and the fact cannot be too extensively known, that it
is not requisite for a person to be aiding or assisting
in a riot or tumultuous meeting to make him an ac-
complice in its acts. Voluntarily lending the sanc-
tion of his presence to an unlawful mob makes him
guilty of participating in all the crimes it may com-
mit; and from which criminal participation he can
only defend himself by proving that his presence was
accidental, or an unavoidable entanglement in the
crowd. Women are equally liable with men. A pri-
vate person, without warrant or magisterial sanc-
tion, may endeavour to suppress a riot; he may dis-
perse those assembled, and prevent others who are
coming up from joining the rest. If the riot be ge-
neral and dangerous, he may even arm himself against
the evil doers, to preserve the peace.*

On these laws we shall offer no commentary. Our
purpose has only been to make them known, so that
no person, without being aware of the danger he in-
curs, may be innocently involved in their punishments.
That such penal consequences may be avoided, it will
be the object of another article to establish, first, by
showing that discussion and publicity do, in the exist-
ing state of society, mostly effect the meliorations
which mere physical force did formerly; and next,
by proving, from some singular examples of the last
fifty years, both the futility and hurtfulness of any
class seeking the redress of grievances by violence.

Assaults reach the highest pitch of criminality when coupled with the intention to rob, to murder, or violate the person. Theft, which is privily carrying off, with a fraudulent intent, the property of another, without the owner's consent, does not amount to robbery, unless accompanied with violence. Actual violence to the person, however, or even the exciting of fear in the mind, is not always necessary to constitute a robbery. For if a man, with a sword or pistol, demand and obtain the money of another without touching his person, it is robbery; though there is no consciousness of fear in the party robbed, only an expectation that violence will be resorted to, if the robber be refused or resisted. It is, doubtless, robbery for a mob to enter a house, shop, or warehouse, demanding bread or provisions, provided they are surrendered to them from fear (if they be refused) of violence to the person, property, or habitation. The value of the article taken is immaterial; a penny, as much as a pound, forcibly extorted, makes a robbery. Security of the person and of the public peace form the chief elements of the social state. The laws, therefore, for the maintenance of general tranquillity, will next claim a brief notice; and, as under the head of assaults, we shall commence with the lesser offences. Merely to challenge to fight, either by word or letter, or be the bearer of such challenge, is an indictable offence, punishable with fine and imprisonment. If two or more persons actually fight in any public place (in a private place it is only an assault), then they are guilty of an affray. Affrays may be suppressed by private persons; but a constable may break open WAKES are merry-makings which occur annually in doors to suppress an affray, and apprehend the af- various parts of rural England, sometimes on Sunday, frayers. We thus perceive that the grand object of sometimes on one or several of the ordinary days of the law is to compel all parties whatsoever to refrain the week, and are much like fairs in Scotland, except from the self-redress of wrongs, to keep the peace; and that this peace will be as much broken by ing that no business is transacted at them. Origitwo persons beating each other, or attempting to in-nally, they were religious festivals, appropriate in each jure each other, by mutual consent, as by one person case to the eve of the day of that saint to whom the attacking another without his consent. Hence, duel- parish church was dedicated; but they have long lost ling, though done with the consent or challenge of all trace of their pristine character, excepting their both parties, is a breaking of the peace, and may be occurrence on the same day as in ancient times. The prevented by peace-officers; while the duellists, and vulgar revels by which they are marked give occasion all parties immediately concerned in fomenting and to the assembling of vast numbers of people from the abetting the quarrel, are liable in severe punishment. country round-who may, on the morning of any When breaches of the peace are of a more serious particular wake, be seen pouring to its scene, on foot, kind, they are denominated an unlawful assembly, rout, and in all sorts of humble vehicles. In Lancashire, or riot. An unlawful assembly is, when three or more wakes flourish in full vigour, and the nature of the persons meet with a confederated purpose to do some amusements may in part be judged of by the following act against the peace with force or violence, or to the bills of fare, copied from advertisements posted on the manifest terror of the people.* It is not necessary walls, and referring to places within a few miles of they should execute, or advance towards the execu- Manchester:tion of the act for which they have met; it is sufficient, if they meet with the intent of violating the peace, or in a manner tending to cause alarm in beholders, to render the assembly unlawful.

If, after meeting, they move towards the execution of such act, whether they execute it or not, then the unlawful assembly becomes a rout. Or, according to Hawkins, if the act be executed, a riot.

Mere numbers only, if numerous enough to excite general terror, is sufficient to make an unlawful assembly; the legal climax being, that numbers constitute force, force terror, and terror illegality.

If an unlawful assembly amount to twelve persons, or more, then the offence is greatly aggravated; and the riot act prescribes a summary and sharp process for dispersing and apprehending the offenders. This process consists in any sheriff, justice, mayor, bailiff, or other head officer, coming among the rioters, or as near to them as he safely can, and with a loud voice enjoining silence, while he reads, or causes to be read, the following proclamation :

"Our sovereign lady, the queen, chargeth and commandeth all persons, being assembled, immediately to disperse themselves, and peaceably to depart to their habitations, or to their lawful business, upon the pains contained in the act made in the first year of king George, for preventing tumults and riotous assemblies.-GOD SAVE THE QUEEN !" Continuing together one hour after being so commanded to disperse, subjects the offenders to transportation for life, or fifteen years, or imprisonment for three years. Trying, by force, to hinder the reading of the proclamation, subjects to a like punishment; and persons, knowing of such hindrance, and not dispersing, are equally criminal. If a riotous assemblage actually begin to destroy any building, mine, or machinery, then the punishment is transportation for a term of not less than seven years.t

It has been recently asserted by high authority,‡

* Burns' Justice of the Peace, vol. v., p. 18, 25th edit.

Till a very recent alteration of the law, this crime was

punishable with death. Although transportation is mercifully substituted in this and many other cases of punishment of crime, it should not be imagined that this mitigated infliction will fall lightly on the heads of offenders. There are some loose notions on the subject of transportation, doubtless arising from the past laxity of the infliction, that seem to require correction. Tran

sportation is now to all intents and purposes equivalent to going

into slavery. The felon condemned to be transported loses, for the time, his civil rights. Torn from his family, his home, and

his country, he is placed at the disposal of the crown and its functionaries; can be put to any kind of labour, however repugnant to his feelings; dressed in the most degrading apparel; chained like a wild beast, if refractory; and, on the commission of any new and grave offence, while in this state of servitude, he 1s liable to a punishment so summary and severe as to make death almost preferable. It might almost be said that no man in his senses would voluntarily expose himself to the risk of so terrible an infliction as that of transportation, even for the limited period of seven years.

Chief Justice Denman, York Assizes, Sept. 2, 1842.

THE LANCASHIRE WAKES.

DIALOGUE RECITED AT GREENSIDE WAKES.

"Tis Greenside Wakes, we're come to the town
To show you some sport of great renown;
And if my old wife will let me begin,
I'll show you how fast and how well I can spin.

Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell 0.”
"Thou brags of thyself, but I don't think it's true,
For I will uphold thy faults are not a few;
For when thou hast done, and spun very hard,
Of this I'm well sure, thy work is ill mar'd.

Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell 0."
"Thou'rt a saucy old jade, and pray hold thy tongue,
Or I shall be thumping thee ere it be long;
And if that I do, I shall make thee to rue,
For I can have many a one as good as you.

Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell O.” "What is it to me who you can have?

I shall not be long ere I am laid in my grave;
And when I am dead you may find if you can
One that'll spin as hard as I've done.

Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell O."
"Come, come, my dear wife, here endeth my song,
I hope it has pleased this numerous throng;
But if it has missed, you need not to fear,
We'll do our endeavour to please them next year.

Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell O."

The most picturesque observance at wakes is the rush-cart with its noisy retinue. The practice of gathering rushes, and conveying them in rustic pomp through the village, had a religious origin. In earlier times, the churches being as destitute of wood or stone floors as they were of pews, it was usual to strew them with rushes; and the providing of these, in the decline of the year, was regarded as a sacred duty. They were gathered by the inhabitants, and taken with much ceremony to the church, where they were kept and used. The occasion has passed away, bearing too profitable a thing to allow of its becoming but the custom remains. The publicans find the rushextinct; and in this, as in most other popular amusements in Lancashire, they are the moving cause of the ceremony, and the love of beer seems the sole inducement of the actors. In order to spend an evening or two in the gratification of the lowest appetites, they degrade themselves into buffoons, and toil up and down the street or village till compelled to stop from mere exhaustion. We lately witnessed one of these exhibitions. A landlord had provided the cart and rushes, in return for which the party were all to make his house their quarters till the end of the festivities. Two men had been appointed by him as masters of the ceremonies, who hired a band of musicians, provided banners, &c., paying all and receiving all, and finally accounting to the landlord, whose servants they were. In the procession, these two men led the "Failsworth and Newton Wakes.-The public are way, dressed in plain clothes, with the exception of respectfully informed, that the above wakes will com- their hats, which were decorated with blue ribbons; mence on Sunday the 21st of August 1842, and con- each carried a small mahogany box to receive contritinue the three following days at the Thomas Chatter- butions. Next came two men bearing a large banner, ton's Bull's Head, Failsworth, where they will meet which, from its devices, appeared to belong to some with a choice selection of wines, spirits, home-brewed club. Three men followed, each carrying an elegant ale, porter, &c. N.B.-Teetotallers will be supplied ornamental frame-work made up of coloured paper, with the above with the strictest secrecy. On Sunday, ribbons, and flowers. Then came the band, consisting the original Lancashire bell-ringers will be in attend of eighteen performers, dressed in a military garb. ance, and will ring a variety of English, Irish, and After the band were the morris-dancers, no less than Scotch airs, changes, &c. On Monday, the sports will twenty in number, who looked at a distance like so commence with a game at cricket, by boys under eigh- many moveable masses formed of ribbons, flowers, and teen years of age, for a new Guernsey and a straw hat." coloured papers. During the time they spent in dancAnd so on with sack races, matches at eating hasty-ing, one grotesque-looking mortal remained almost pudding, apple-diving, &c., during the other days, the motionless, who, in answer to our inquiries, informed whole to conclude with a ball. us that, from time immemorial, he had borne the office of fool, that he did business on his own account, and should commence his performances when the others had finished theirs. If we may judge from the sound and appearance of his two ample pockets, his folly is better repaid than the wisdom of most of his fellows. His cap was of the true cut, and bore the usual bells. Round his waist was a crimson silk scarf, from which hung two large tassels of the same material. A broad blue ribbon passed over his breast, having a large medal suspended from it. One leg of his trousers was of a bright pink colour, the other yellow. The sleeves of his jacket were slashed scarlet and green. In his hand he bore the skeleton of an immense umbrella. The cart followed, newly painted for the occasion a bright scarlet, and drawn by four very fine horses, with blue nets over them, and white nets on their ears, glittering with their brass ornaments and bright ribbons. Two drivers, one on each side, dexterously handled and slashed their whips, which were bedecked with white bows. On the top of each horse's head was a tastily-framed ornament, about two feet high, jingling with brass bells. The rushes are piled in the cart in a very peculiar manner, and have a beautiful appearance. They are framed into something like a sugar-loaf, cut down the middle, and having its two flat sides turned outwards. On the top were seated three men holding banners. The side of the rushes in front of the cart is hung with white drapery, presenting, suspended, all manner of little valuables, collected and borrowed for the occasion, such as silver spoons, plated cups, brazen candlesticks, &c. The back part of the rushes was decorated with the letters V. R., beautifully formed of dahlias and African marigolds. The lofty and heavy mass of rushes was kept in its place by six men, three on each side, holding and supporting it with ropes. In some instances rival trains of rush-bearers come into conflict, and confusion and bruises are the consequence. The day is spent in parading wherever there is a hope of levying contributions on folly or good nature, and at night the drinking and revelry which continued through the day are consummated in intoxication.

The next bill, which we copy entire, is headed by
an invitation to tippling in doggrel verse :—
"My beer-butts are full of Sherry-strong beer,
And my cellars are stored with very good cheer;
My servants are nimble to wait on you all,

With meat, drink, or music, whenever you call.
Bradford wakes will commence at the Steam-Engine
Tavern, on Monday, October 18, 1841, when the morn-
ing will be ushered in with the joyous sport of a don-
key race for a new bridle; the best of heats; and no
ass will be allowed to enter the lists unless he be a
strong, staunch, steady, sound, stout, safe, serviceable,
smart, sprightly, spirited, sure-footed, spunky, well-
skinned, well-shaped, and of superlative symmetry-to
start at eleven o'clock. A quoiting match for a prime
leg of mutton; best of twelve quoits, at nineteen
yards' distance. A foot race for a new stuff hat; the
best of either colliers, printers, rich men, poor men,
ploughmen, or cads to run. In the interval, between
the above sports, will be a race by ladies, for a new
gown. A sack race for one pound of best tobacco.
Bumble Puppy for a purse and sweepstakes; no per-
son, except the bowler, to stand within half a yard of
the table. Grinning through a horse collar for ale.
Treacle-loaf eating for various rewards. Smoking
matches, apple-dumpling eating, wheelbarrow races,
and a succession of other gambols and sports of the
old English school. To conclude each night with
a select band of music; country-dancing, quadrilling,
and drinking hot punch and ale. By order, Done
Sprightly, mayor of Bradford."

At Greenside, in Droylsden, four miles cast from Manchester, a custom prevails, which those who practise it affirm they brought from Ashton-under-Lyne some twenty-eight years since. During the wakes, two persons fantastically habited, the one as a male, the other as a female (both are men), appear in the village on horseback engaged in spinning. As they spin, they conduct a rustic dialogue in limping verse, and gather contributions from the spectators.

* Chief Justice Tindal, Bristol Commission, Jan. 2, 1832.

The wake of the parish of Manchester was put down by a local order in 1579, and allowed quietly to pass into disuse; but in the neighbouring parish of Eccles, the observance has, under the influence of gentlemen in the vicinity, been converted into horse-racing and a fair, though the place retained, longer than most others, the peculiar attributes of the wakes of former days. The church of Eccles is dedicated to the Virgin Mary, at or near whose festival-namely, on the first Sunday in September, and the three following days-the wakes are celebrated.

Gyst-ale, or guising, was a custom which once prevailed in Eccles, consisting in processions and revelry at the end of the season for marling and manuring the land. Those who took part in those festivities were gaily and grotesquely dressed, and were accustomed to display all the finery and valuables they could command for the occasion. With their neighbours of Barton, the guisers of Eccles were wont to maintain a species of rustic emulation, which almost became a feud. On one occasion, it appears that the parade connected with the silly contest cost Barton £644, and Eccles £1881, which sums were gratuitously contributed by persons of substance in the neighbourhood.

Crying, “Buy now, or toss," which the bull chanced to spy, Jaques. His wife, a tidy, round-faced, pretty matron,

Gave his basket a toss, for he chose not to buy.
Chorus. I thought to the wakes

There were coming with cakes
Confectioners down from the sky.
Next followed the race for a leathern prize;
Tits enter'd the field amid bustle and noise;

"Now, Bobbin!" "Now, Short!" "Now, Ball!" was the

For to keep up the wakes,

Among wenches and fine country beaux.

According to the song, there were, on the present oc-
casion, not a few "dressy work-folk from Manchester,"

well nigh ten years younger than himself to appearance, made me welcome with a degree of ready warmth which highly gratified me. She seemed just the very person for an invalid to quarter himself with; and so I found it to be. But enough of myself -to my story.

In passing occasionally between the cabaret and the cottage of Jaques during the few days of my residence there, I had an opportunity of hearing the hostess and Jaques repeat their significant banter, once or twice, regarding promise-keeping. It seemed to be a standing joke between them of a venerable age. This excited my curiosity; and I one day asked Monsieur Jaques if it meant anything particular which it was proper to tell me. "Oh, yes; proper enough to be told," said Jaques with a laugh; "but it is a long story, and I fear would weary your honour." "No fear of that," said I ; « I am an untirable story-seeker."

which now wears a dreary and unpicturesque aspect, but the majority were from the neighbouring villages/Thus encouraged, Jaques related to me his history.

and hamlets, many of the girls with white frocks, blue
stockings, and clogs; while the young men were, for
the most part, in velveteen jackets and scarlet waist-
coats, adorned with pearl buttons and other elegancies

to match.

In proceeding to Eccles to view what is still called the wakes, we passed by the old May-pole at Pendleton, stripped, as it is, of all its honours, and rising, like a solitary, sad, and blighted monument of the past. Our course lay in a direction west from Manchester, for Eccles, the object of our visit, lies between that town and Liverpool, and is the first place which you pass on the railway which runs between these two cities. Taking the road to the left, some small distance from PenHorse-racing appeared to be a prime element in the dleton Pole and Church, we passed through a turnpike, amusements of the day; and on the course we found a having caught an extensive view of a flat but emi somewhat superior order of persons on foot and horsenently rich country, and entered on a well-made road, back, engaged as onlookers or in betting on favourite adorned on both sides by the grounds and mansions horses. Gambling, indeed, may be said to be the of some of the wealthiest manufacturers and gentry. grand business of the Eccles Wakes. The means for On our left we saw Bride Hill, the seat of Sir Tho-indulging in games of chance prevailed in every quarThose who had but a penny to lose might lose mas Potter, the first mayor of Manchester, whose that penny, and those who had the command of luxuriant and well-stocked fields show that their owner hundreds were encountered by corresponding temptations. Booths for the monied gamblers were on a large scale, with every expedient for secrecy, and every precaution against detection. lost and won, to the injury, in either case, of those needless to add, that much money must have been who yielded to the temptation. The amusements in

ter.

It is almost

"I was drawn for the conscription," said he, "in my nineteenth year. That was no very advanced age, sir; yet, before that time, I had contrived to imagine myself in love, and to make all sorts of weighty vows of fidelity to a pretty little cousin of my own, who had then just reached her fifteenth year. Well, I was drawn for the wars, as I said; and, though man enough to be a soldier, I was child enough to cry, with great earnestness and sincerity, when I came to We had no help part with my pretty cousin Marie. for it, however, so we promised to be faithful as never

two were before, and we separated.

The emperor (continued Jacques, touching his hat as if his living master had been before him to receive the salute)-the emperor was at that time fighting all the world, and beating all the world, and I followed him for many a long day, without ever seeing home, and without ever hearing a word from liking the occupation very well after I had once got home that could be depended on. Through all Italy and Germany I followed the heels of my master,

has not lost, in the press of business, the agricultural
tastes which his early breeding led him to form, and
which, indeed, the discerning observer can still dis-
cover traces of alike in his general manner and in his
conversation. On our right lay Claremont, the ele-
gant residence of Sir Benjamin Hey wood, whose name
is permanently linked with the history of Manchester, other parts of the wakes were such as require no de. accustomed to it. The thing that kept us comfort-

scription, and it is enough to know that they were all able, sir, was, that we never had any fears of being
such as ministered to the gross tastes of an uneducated beaten while the emperor was with us. But though
population. On quitting the scene, I could not help not beaten, one can be wounded; and so it was with
me sometime before the emperor entered Berlin. I
lamenting that the providing for popular amusements
did not go into hospital, however, but preferred going
should lie almost exclusively with publicans, itinerant about with my comrades, concealing my hurt, though
players, and generally with those who live on the I
harmless recreations be regularly provided for by the
vices and degrading pleasures of the people. Until
respectable classes, and a better example be set, the
wakes, with all their vitiating tendencies, as a matter

of course, will continue.

STORY OF A SOLDIER.

as one of its wisest, most steady, and most consistent
benefactors. Passing other mansions, we came to a part
of the road which would have been entirely devoid of
interest, but for one or two cottages, that owe their at-
tractions to the trees and flowers which grow in their
front; caught a sight of the tower of Eccles church,
and soon found ourselves at the end of our ride. The
village is little more than a long double row of houses,
and possesses few objects worthy of notice. "Eccles
cakes," indeed, seem to be a favourite dainty. We
had seen these tempting compounds of flour, treacle,
lard, and currants, displayed in many places, and were
now made conscious that we had reached the spot
whence they took their origin and name. In the
manufacture of the article, rivalry appeared to have
gone beyond the bounds of propriety; for we read, em- IN travelling some years ago in the south of France,
blazoned on the front of a shop on the left hand, "The it chanced that I was one day compelled to leave the
old established Eccles cake-maker removed from the op- diligence in which I had just started to return from
posite side;" while a sign threw out its fierce defiance, Montpellier towards Paris. My health had been for
standing over against the other, and affirming itself to some time unsettled, and the journey was undertaken
be "The old established Eccles cake maker never re- somewhat rashly, particularly as neither friend nor
mored." Leaving the antagonists to settle for them- personal attendant was with me at the time. The
selves their rival claims, and rejoicing to learn that consequence was a stoppage to my travel.
there was business for both, we found the place encum-
borne up for a time at the cost of much suffering, but
bered with carriages of all descriptions, and crowded
was forced, when about thirty miles on my way, to
with persons of every age and many conditions in take advantage of my arrival at a small neat-looking
life. The public houses were full, and in these, accord-village, and make a halt. The cabaret before which
ing to the Lancashire custom, women sat mingled with I landed was very clean and promising in its appear-
the men, performing their full share in smoking and ance, and I flattered myself that, if necessitated to
brawling, if not in drinking. Songs, in which the stay a few days, all would be right and comfortable
vulgarity of the sentiment was equalled by the harsh in such quarters. But I was disappointed in my ex-
dissonance of the voices, were heard on every side. pectation of getting these quarters. The only two
One of these ditties, squeaked by a limping ballad- beds in the house fit for an invalid were taken up by
monger, which I had the curiosity to purchase, was strangers.
entitled "The Humours of Eccles Wakes," and ran
as follows:-

In August last being holiday time,

And being myself a young lad in my prime,
To see Eccles wakes it was my intent,

So I dressed in my best and away I went.

Chorus twice.-With Ned and a few men,
And Robin the plough-man,
And Sally, and Alley, and Mall.

Each lad took his lass as we passed along,
And when we came there it was wonderful throng;
There were some crying" Eccles," some "Banbury Cakes,"

For the lasses and lads that attended the wakes.
Chorus.

So Ned treated Sally,

And Bob treated Alley,

And I bought a Banb'ry for Mall.

Yon fine dressy work-folk from Manchester town,
They strutted as if the whole wakes were their own;
Putters out, warpers, yea cutters and all,

I had

"What is to be done, then, good hostess?" said I; "here I must remain, sleep where I may." "I know not what to do, sir," was the reply; "though it is possible that one of the strangers may give up his bed to you." "I should not like to be troublesome; but"- The hostess interrupted me by calling to an elderly man who sat on a bench at the door in conversation with another person. "Jaques," cried she, "come hither. Here is a gentleman wishes to have a bed. We have no spare one; can Bertha put him up ?" The individual to whom these words were addressed was a fine hale-looking man, about fifty or so. He had that uprightness of deportment which at once marks the veteran of war. "I doubt not but Bertha can give him quarters for a night or two, if he wishes it," said Jaques in a cheerful tone; and he looks ill, too; but Bertha will take care of him, I "Well, well; show the gentleman the way to your cottage," returned the hostess; "but Jaques, don't promise too much. You are not famous for keeping promises!" "Ma foi, nor are you !" retorted Jaques; and the pair showed their teeth at once in a peculiarly broad and hearty laugh. "You will find everything

Dress'd like masters and dames, jeer'd both me and my Mall. promise him, if he can get her to take him in charge."

Chorus.-I ne'er saw their fellows,

They spread their umbrellas

Ere rain from the elements fall.

The Bellart ere long tied the bull to the stake,

The dogs were set at him some pastime to make;
He jostled about, gave a terrible roar,
Tossed the dogs in the air, and the folk tumbled o'er.
Chorus. Such squeaking and squalling,

Such pulling and hauling,

I ne'er in my life saw before.

*Race-a term in fustian cutting.

suffered much; but in Potsdam all this sort of work when the emperor moved on and entered Berlin, I was came to an end. I was quartered in the town; and unable to follow. My wound- it was in the arm, sir became so bad that I could not move; but I had fallen

into good hands.

The house in which I was lodged certainly promised little to appearance. It was the humble home of a poor woman, who, as the widow of a Prussian sergeant, received a small pension, upon which she and her daughter subsisted." The widow was aged and feeble; and when I was laid on a sick-bed in the house, poor Bertha had two couches to attend.. But she was born to do kindnesses; she was the best of nurses. You have had a little experience of that, sir?" continued Jaques, interrupting his story to address me. I nodded assent, and he went on. "I had not precisely forgot Marie by this time, sir, though constant employment and absence had certainly done something to banish her from my thoughts. She might have been dead long since, too, for aught I knew. Hence it was, that there was little to stand out against the impression that Bertha's good looks and kind nursing were calculated to make upon me. However, I never told her that I loved her, though I believe she saw it. Nor did she ever tell me, in her pretty broken French, that she loved me; but I confess that I thought she did. But all this came to a crisis. I recovered the use of my arm, and was obliged to move on to Berlin. With tears in our eyes, Bertha and I parted by the side of her poor sick mother's couch; and with some convalescent companions who had been left at Potsdam with me, I mounted a baggage-waggon for Berlin.

We had yet some of our companions left at Potsdam in a bad state. That circumstance had an important effect as regarded me. Three or four days after I had reached Berlin, one of these invalids came up with us, and soon after sought me out. I have a token for you,' and he gave me a lock of hair, which I soon saw to be Bertha's. A girl came and gave me this for you,' continued my comrade, and bade me tell you that her mother was dead.' This information produced a strong effect upon me. Bertha was now alone in the world; she had no one to protect or care for her; her mother's pension would cease; what would become of her? These questions, which I asked at myself, threw me into a state of inexpressible agitation; and finally, to be brief, sir, I mounted my horse (for I had been early transferred from a foot to a dragoon regiment), and contrived to make my way back to Potsdam. I say contrived; for, had my purpose been known, I should have been prevented most assuredly. But I did make my way to Potsdam ;

and when I returned, it was with Bertha, my wife, as I had made her, behind me.

means for conducting the processes so as to raise the least dust possible. 4. Boarding off the mills and sieves, I had been too long away on this occasion for my so as to prevent the escape of the smaller particles. absence to have passed unnoticed. In fact, I was imme-5. Requiring of the workmen engaged in the processes diately seized and thrown into confinement as an in- where there is lead dust, or any other injurious dust sustending or actual deserter. What, then, did my poor with a handkerchief slightly moistened. 6. Subjecting pended in the air, that they cover the nose and mouth Bertha do, sir? She had the courage to go to the Little the workshop to occasional medical inspection, in order Corporal himself; she found access to him; she threw to prevent the intensity of any maladies that break out; herself at his feet, and told all that I had done-out and with that view to examine the workmen from time of gratitude, she said, for her care of me. And he to time, to detect any symptoms of disease, and to oblige (continued Jaques, again touching his hat at the men- the workmen attacked to abstain from work until the tion of his hero's name)-he, who had then on his medical officer declares that they may resume it without hands the affairs of empires, he condescended to listen inconvenience. 7. Obliging workmen to wear frocks or to her to hear the whole story of his poor soldier. blouses, which they should leave in the workshop when He sent her away without a positive answer; and they quit work; and these blouses should, from time to though he spoke in a kindly way, poor Bertha was time, be washed. 8. Sending away from the workshop dreadfully frightened. But on that same evening the every workman who gives himself up to debauchery or emperor's own surgeon came to examine my arm, is, workers in lead) to form the habit of drinking every drunkenness. 9. Endeavouring to get the workmen (that and next day I received my discharge, with a pension. day, on leaving the workshop, a little hydro-sulphureted In the hurry and excitement of my feelings through- water, to neutralise the effects of the lead that may have out this entire business, I had entirely forgot poor been taken into the stomach. All these regulations, Marie; but as I returned slowly towards my native with the medical attendance for the purpose of prevenvillage with Bertha, you may be sure that I thought of tion, would be greatly below any charge of insurance to little else, and began to look on myself as something of the individual workman for procuring medical attenda rascal. I daresay Bertha then feared that she had ance and remedies when thrown out of work by sickness. got a sulky bargain of me; for many a time and oft In some of the trades, scattered instances of attention she questioned me about my low spirits. At length to cleanliness and measures of prevention are found-for we got home-to this village, sir. I stopped at an example, amongst the journeymen painters. In answer inn; nobody knew me. There was a question on my to a question put by Dr Mitchell to Mr Tomlins, the tongue which I wished, but found it difficult, to utter. clerk to the Painters' Company, whether painters suffer I did not wish that Marie might be dead, but I so much as formerly from the disease to which they are heartily prayed that she might be married. Alas! formerly. This has been ascertained by a charity adpeculiarly liable, the clerk says: Not so much as when I asked the question, of a villager, the answerer ministered at Painters' Hall to men labouring under not only told me that she was still unmarried,' but, sickness. Formerly, they would throw their clothes seeing me to be a soldier, added, that she was en- on their beds, and go to their meals without washing gaged to her cousin, a soldier who had been long at their hands. A large proportion of the journeymen the wars.' As there existed a necessity, however, for now carry a working-dress to their job with them, and coming to explanations, I left Bertha at the inn, and, when they quit work at night, they exchange and put covered by the shades, moved, with rather slow steps, on clean clothes which are free from paint. This applies towards the home where I expected to find my mo- more particularly to the westward of Temple-bar. One ther, my brother, and my sisters. I found them all master painter of my acquaintance, Mr Thornton of safe and well, and with them none else but Marie. Doctors' commons, keeps a pail of solution of potash in his shop, in which the men wash their hands, and Everybody welcomed and embraced me, Marie among which takes off every particle of paint; and it is worthy the rest. 'Al' thought I, as I returned her emof remark, that only two men in twenty years have been brace, poor thing, she loves me yet, and little knows afflicted with paralysis in his employ. This is taken from what a rascal I have been! But out it must come.' fifteen men constantly employed on an average for seven So I asked her, with a stammering voice, if she reyears." membered our engagement. Marie answered ' 'Yes,' in a low tone, and covered her face with her hands. My brother Michael, too, said, rather tartly-'Oh, we remember that childish engagement.' I made no answer, but went on, in a very stuttering way, to tell how much I had been obliged by one, when far from home; and finally, got out that I was-married! Marie had never taken her hands from her face while I spoke; and imagining that she was going to give way to an awful explosion of grief, I was about to close my confession with some penitent and consoling words, when suddenly the hands were removed, and a face more full of smiles than tears was disclosed to me. Oh! Jaques, tell me, are you really married?' 'Yes', said I, amazedly, thinking she must be going into hysterics. Oh! you dear Jaques! you dear Jaques cried she, while at the same time my brother Michael came up to me, and, with most extraordinary warmth, shook me again and again by the hand. 'We have been both alike,' exclaimed Marie; 'but we thought you dead.' It proved, indeed, to be the case that Marie, as she grew in years, had forgotten her childish attachment, and that my brother Michael and she loved each other with something of a real and serious love; but they would not marry till they heard some tidings about me. My arrival, a

6

married man, solved the difficulty to their great delight. Go, bring Bertha to us,' cried Marie; I am dying to embrace her!' I was not long in bringing

Bertha to her friends.

My brother Michael is landlord of the little inn over the way, sir, and you may guess who his wife is, and why we rally each other about broken promises. Now you have my story." Jaques was a happy man.

PRECAUTIONS IN THE DUSTY TRADES."

THE following highly useful observations on the best
means of preserving the health of operatives employed
in what are termed the "dusty trades," occur in the late

Report on the sanatory condition of the labouring popu-
lation, and are well worthy of attention.
In some of the" dusty trades," the excessive amount of
premature mortality is so great as to justify interference,
defensively, as against the charges which, from the neglect
of sanatory measures, fall neither upon the employer nor
upon the consumer, who directly benefit by the produce
of the industry, but upon rate-payers, to whom the
manufactory itself may be a nuisance. In the instance of
such trades, personal cleanliness is so far requisite as to
justify an additional rate of insurance where it is ne-
glected. Yet the regulations preventive of disease are
by no means onerous, either in their cost or their inter-
ference with the processes. Some of the noxious manu-
factures, and especially those in lead, have been the sub-
ject of examination by the "Conseil de Salubrite" of
Paris, and the preventive rules they prescribed were as
follows:-1. The establishment of a good ventilation in
the workshops or manufactories. 2. Exacting from the
workpeople close attention to personal cleanliness, oblig-
ing them to wash the hands and face before dining and be-
fore leaving the workshop; forbidding them taking any of
their meals in the workshop, and, by reasoning and infor-
mation, directing their attention to the dangers by which
they are surrounded. 3. Employing the practicable

DICKENS'S NOTES ON AMERICA.* WHEN Mr Charles Dickens-the immortal Boz-announced his design of visiting the United States, it was universally anticipated that he would produce a work more graphically descriptive of the American people, their manners, and habits, than any writer, however able, who had perambulated the world beyond the Atlantic. Public expectation has had but a brief period to wait. Boz visited the states in the spring and summer of the present year, and while the leaves of autumn are rustling in the breeze, his book has appeared to the delight of all eyes. And what kind of a book is it? is the general inquiry. We fear that, as in other cases in which expectation is too tightly bent, there will be some disappointment. Boz says nothing of his own personal intercourse with society; simply describing the main features of his excursion, he reveals no secrets of private life, pampers no prejudices, emits no sarcasm, and, to use his own words, dedicates his production to those, who, while giving him a friendly welcome, left his judgment free, and who, loving their country, can bear the truth when it is told goodhumouredly and in a kind spirit." There is a straight forward manliness in these sentiments, which all must admire; and not more so than the manner in which the writer acts up to them. He esteems the Americans for many excellent qualities, but he also lays bare the odious features in some parts of their policy, and just the more poignantly from the perfect sense of justice and propriety with which he is evidently guided. It would be impossible, we think, for any man, unwarped by the grossest prepossessions, to take offence at one word he utters. Our pages are limited, and we have little hope of being able to do justice to the force or beauty of Mr Dickens's "notes," excursive as many of them are, but we shall do our best to offer a few random passages to those readers whom circumstances may have prevented from seeing the volumes themselves.

Mr Dickens chose an unpropitious season for his voyage, the month of January, when boisterous weather and all the agonies of sea-sickness might reasonably have been expected. As it chanced, the ocean was in a rather worse humour than usual, and the scene, accordingly, on board the Britannia steam-packet was, as we are told, a happy mixture of the horrible and the ludicrous. Dickens is quite at home in the description, however much he was abroad while on the turbulent bosom of the deep. Hear him :

"It is the third morning. I am awakened out of my sleep by a dismal shriek from my wife, who demands to know whether there is any danger. I rouse myself, and look out of bed. The water-jug is plunging and leaping like a lively dolphin; all the smaller articles are afloat, except my shoes, which are stranded on a carpet-bag, high and dry, like a couple of coalbarges. Suddenly I see them spring into the air, and

* American Notes for General Circulation. By Charles Dickens. 2 vols. London: Chapman and Hall. 1842.

behold the looking-glass, which is nailed to the wall, sticking fast upon the ceiling. At the same time the door entirely disappears, and a new one is opened in the floor. Then I begin to comprehend that the stateroom is standing on its head.

compatible with this novel state of things, the ship
Before it is possible to make any arrangement at all
rights. Before one can say, 'Thank Heaven!' she
wrongs again. Before one can cry she is wrong,
she seems to have started forward, and to be a crea-
ture actively running of its own accord, with broken
knees and failing legs, through every variety of hole
and pitfall, and stumbling constantly. Before one can
so much as wonder, she takes a high leap into the air.
Before she has well done that, she takes a deep dive
into the water. Before she has gained the surface, she
throws a summerset. The instant she is on her legs,
heaving, wrestling, leaping, diving, jumping, pitching,
she rushes backward. And so she goes on staggering,
throbbing, rolling, and rocking and going through
all these movements, sometimes by turns, and some-
times all together, until one feels disposed to roar for
mercy. A steward passes. 'Steward! Sir? What
is the matter?what do you call this?" 'Rather a
heavy sea on, sir, and a head-wind.' A head-wind!
Imagine a human face upon the vessel's prow, with
fifteen thousand Sampsons in one bent upon driving
her back, and hitting her exactly between the eyes
whenever she attempts to advance an inch. Imagine
the ship herself, with every pulse and artery of her
huge body swollen and bursting under this mal-
howling, the sea roaring, the rain beating; all in
treatment, sworn to go on or die. Imagine the wind
furious array against her. Picture the sky both dark
and wild, and the clouds, in fearful sympathy with
the waves, making another ocean in the air. Add to
all this the clattering on deck and down below; the
tread of hurried feet, the loud hoarse shouts of sea-
men, the gurgling in and out of water through the
scuppers, with, every now and then, the striking of a
heavy sea upon the planks above, with the deep, dead,
heavy sound of thunder heard within a vault-and
there is the head-wind of that January morning."

the occurrences within were equally heterogeneous;
While such was the state of matters out of doors,
but they can only be glanced at, "such as the break-
ing of glass and crockery, the tumbling down of stew-
ards, the gambols overhead of loose casks and truant
dozens of porter, and the very remarkable and far
from exhilarating sounds raised in their state-rooms
[cribs little larger than coffins] by the seventy pas-
sengers who were too ill to get up to breakfast." To
vary the delights of the voyage, one evening, about
sunset, when above ten days out, a storm comes on in
fearfully increasing fury, except during a lull of an
hour a little before midnight :-"There was some-
thing in the unnatural repose of that hour, and in the
after-gathering of the storm, so inconceivably awful
and tremendous, that its bursting into full violence
was almost a relief. The labouring of the ship in the
troubled sea on this night I shall never forget. Will
it ever be worse than this?' was a question I had often
heard asked, when everything was sliding and bump-
ing about, and when it certainly did seem difficult to
comprehend the possibility of anything afloat being
more disturbed, without toppling over and going down.
But what the agitation of a steam-vessel is, on a bad
winter's night in the wild Atlantic, it is impossible
for the most vivid imagination to conceive. To say
that she is flung down on her side in the waves, with
her masts dipping into them, and that, springing up
again, she rolls over on the other side, until a heavy
and hurls her back-that she stops, and staggers, and
sea strikes her with the noise of a hundred great guns,
shivers, as though stunned; and then, with a violent
throbbing at her heart, darts onward like a monster
goaded into madness, to be beaten down, and battered,
and crushed, and leaped on by the angry sea-that
thunder, lightning, hail, and rain, and wind, are all
in fierce contention for the mastery-that every plank
has its groan, every nail its shriek, and every drop of
water in the great ocean its howling voice-is nothing.
To say that all is grand, and all appalling and horrible
in the last degree, is nothing. Words cannot express
it; thoughts cannot convey it. Only a dream can
call it up again, in all its fury, rage, and passion."

Fortunately no serious damage is sustained, and the well-managed vessel at last glides smoothly into Halifax harbour, with colours gaily flying-"the sun shining as on a brilliant April day in England; the land stretched out on either side, streaked with light patches of snow; white wooden houses, people at their doors, telegraphs working, flags hoisted, wharfs appearing, ships, quays crowded with people, distant noises, shouts, men and boys running down steep places towards the pier, all more bright and gay and fresh to our unused eyes than words can paint them. We came to a wharf, paved with uplifted faces; got alongside, and were made fast, after some shouting and straining of cables; darted, a score of us, along the gangway, almost as soon as it was thrust out to meet us, and before it had reached the ship-and leaped upon the firm glad earth again!"

Proceeding shortly to Boston, Dickens finds much to admire in the handsome appearance and social arrangements of the capital of Massachusetts. The politeness of the custom-house authorities is the first novelty that attracts attention:-"In all the public establishments of America, the utmost courtesy prevails. Most of our departments are susceptible of

considerable improvement in this respect; but the vate carriages-rather of a clumsy make, and not very | Prince Adam, since an exile, was president of the nacustom-house, above all others, would do well to take ex- different from the public vehicles, but built for the tional government during the Polish insurrection in ample from the United States, and render itself some-heavy roads beyond the city pavement. Negro coach- 1830. Josephine was conversant with the history what less odious and offensive to foreigners. The ser- men and white, in straw hats, black hats, white hats, of her country; and the intercourse she now enjoyed vile rapacity of the French officials is sufficiently con- glazed caps, fur caps; in coats of drab, black, brown, with persons whose character she had studied from its temptible; but there is a surly boorish incivility about green, blue, nankeen, striped jean, and linen; and pages, and whose patriotic virtues she had learned to our men, alike disgusting to all persons who fall into there, in that one instance (look while it passes, or it adore, made a strong impression upon her mind. The their hands, and discreditable to the nation that keeps will be too late), in suits of livery. Some southern sight of the venerable prince, over whose grey head such ill-conditioned curs snarling about its gates." republican that, who puts his blacks in uniform, and nearly a century had passed, surrounded by the noble, All travellers arriving in England will concur in the swells with Sultan pomp and power. Yonder, where the learned, and the devoted, the example of the justice of these remarks. that phaeton with the well-clipped pair of greys has Princess Isabella and her daughters, the circle of Mammon, as is well known, is the object of worship stopped-standing at their heads now-is a Yorkshire Polish matrons, who on festive occasions assembled in America, as Title is in this country, and it afforded groom, who has not been very long in these parts, and with their families at Siemiaura, produced a favourMr Dickens no small pleasure to find how much the looks sorrowfully round for a companion pair of top-able effect upon Josephine, and assisted in forming her worst features of pure money-getting habits and as- boots, which he may traverse the city half a year character and confirming her patriotism. She obsociations may be softened by the quiet influence of without meeting. Heaven save the ladies, how they tained an insight into the human heart, its affections literature and intellectual refinement. Acted upon dress! We have seen more colours in these ten mi- and impulses; she acquired a strong sense of propriety by the "gentlemen of learning and varied attain-nutes than we should have seen elsewhere in as many of conduct, and a power of so regulating her demeanments," of the university of Cambridge, at the distance days. What various parasols!-what rainbow silks our, that, without any dereliction of principle, she of a few miles from Boston, the general tone of society and satins! what pinking of thin stockings, and pinch- could steer her course amidst conflicting parties and is greatly relieved from that which would be inciden- ing of thin shoes, and fluttering of ribbons and silk interests, yet neither give offence nor provoke distal to a purely commercial population. Our travel- tassels, and display of rich cloaks with gaudy hoods pleasure. ler's "notes" on this condition of things testify to the and linings! The young gentlemen are fond, you goodness of his heart and soundness of his under- see, of turning down their shirt-collars, and cultivatstanding. The American universities, he observes, ing their whiskers, especially under the chin; but whatever be their defects, "disseminate no prejudices, they cannot approach the ladies in their dress or rear no bigots, dig up the buried ashes of no old super- bearing, being, to say the truth, humanity of quite stitions, never interpose between the people and their another sort." improvement, exclude no man because of his religious opinions; above all, in their whole course of study and instruction, recognise a world, and a broad one too, lying beyond the college walls." With respect to the university above mentioned, it was pleasing to "note at every turn the humanising tastes and desires it has engendered, the affectionate friendships to which it has given rise, the amount of vanity and prejudice it has dispelled. The golden calf they worship at Boston is a pigmy compared with the giant effigies set up in other parts of that vast counting-house which lies beyond the Atlantic; and the almighty dollar sinks into something comparatively insignificant, amidst a whole Pantheon of better gods. Above all, I sincerely believe that the public institutions and charities of this capital of Massachusetts are as nearly perfect as the most considerate wisdom, benevolence, and humanity can make them. I never in my life was more affected by the contemplation of happiness, under circumstances of privation and bereavement, than in my visits to these establishments."

Mr Dickens admires the prevalent practice in America, of supporting institutions wholly or partially by the state, which thus does for the people that which private endowments accomplish in England; but on this point there may be some controversy, and we pass from it to his definitions of the cause of such splendid charitable institutions as England is alone able to boast of. The worrying of rich old relatives, he says, is at the bottom of it. Some immensely rich old gentleman or lady, surrounded by needy relatives, makes, upon a low average, a will a-week. The old gentleman or lady, never very remarkable in the best of times for good temper, is full of aches and pains from head to foot; full of fancies and caprices; full of spleen, distrust, suspicion, and dislike. To cancel old wills, and invent new ones, is at last the sole business of such a testator's existence; and relations and friends (some of whom have been bred up distinctly to inherit a large share of the property, and have been from their cradles specially disqualified from devoting themselves to any useful pursuit on that account) are so often and so unexpectedly and summarily cut off, and re-instated, and cut off again, that the whole family, down to the remotest cousin, is kept in a perpetual fever. At length it becomes plain that the old lady or gentleman has not long to live; and the plainer this becomes, the more clearly the old lady or gentleman perceives that everybody is in a conspiracy against their poor old dying relative; wherefore the old lady or gentleman makes another last will-positively the last this time-conceals the same in a china tea-pot, and expires next day. Then it turns out, that the whole of the real and personal estate is divided between half-a-dozen charities; and that the dead and gone testator has in pure spite helped to do a great deal of good, at the cost of an immense amount of evil passion and misery."

This is in Boz's best style, but is more clever than profound. The worrying may do something towards the charitable bequest; a far deeper principle, however, operates, we verily believe, in ninety-nine cases in the hundred. We allude to the love of posthumous fame. To die worth half a million, and leave it all to erect an everlasting monument to the name of Higgins, is a glory cheaply purchased with a lifetime of toil, anxiety, and possibly the most dire privation.

Getting in due time to New York, the traveller finds the city as hot as an oven. "Warm weather! The sun strikes upon our heads at this open window, as though its rays were concentrated through a burning-glass; but the day is in its zenith, and the season an unusual one. Was there ever such a sunny street as this Broadway! The pavement stones are polished with the tread of feet until they shine again; the red bricks of the houses might be yet in the dry hot kilns; and the roofs of those omnibuses look as though, if water were poured on them, they would hiss and smoke, and smell like half-quenched fires. No stint of omnibuses here! Half a dozen have gone by within as many minutes. Plenty of hackney cabs and coaches too; gigs, phaetons, large-wheeled tilburies, and pri

With descriptions of visits to asylums of various kinds, prisons, and other establishments in New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, the writer gets to the end of his first volume, and there we, for the present, leave him.

JOSEPHINE SZYRMA.

THE virtues of private life have seldom any record
beyond that which is left in the respect and affection
of friends and relatives. Many of the most estimable,
and perhaps the most valuable, women, have acquired
no wider fame. Content to fulfil their duties humbly,
though ardently, their difficulties, their struggles, their
devotedness, and their usefulness, have been known to
few. Their unobtrusive virtues, however venerated
in their own circle, have made no claim upon public
attention, and thus the world has little acquaintance
with their simple but instructive biography.

The subject of the present memoir was a native of
Poland, and distinguished for her earnest and faithful
devotion to the duties of life amidst severe trials and
reverses of fortune. Her patient endurance and active
fortitude never appear to have forsaken her; nor did
her own privations ever render her indifferent to the
calamities of others, or chill her benevolent exertions
in the behalf of her fellow-sufferers. The political
condition of Poland, struggling for independence and
deliverance, involved all ranks and conditions in the
troubles attendant upon foreign tyranny and internal
discord. Many women, whose habits inclined them
to the privacy of domestic life, were forced by the cir-
cumstances of the times into public scenes of action.
It was Josephine's lot to be so placed, and her short
history proves that a woman may be a patriot, yet
in no way forfeit feminine character, or sacrifice the
duties of a wife and mother.

Josephine's maiden name was Dziergowski: she was born in 1804, in the palatinate of Rowa, in Masovia. Her family was noble, but, like many others in Poland, had been impoverished by the invaders of their country, who, when unsuccessful, never failed to leave ruin and devastation behind them. Josephine was sent at seven years old to one of the first ladies' schools in Warsaw, where she pursued the usual studies (under an improved system of education) in science, history, and art; and, besides a complete knowledge of her native tongue, she acquired the German and French languages, speaking and writing them fluently and correctly. She gained the affections of her companions, and retained their regard in after years, when these early friendships were cemented by still stronger ties. Josephine's education commenced in 1812, when Napoleon's army marched to Russia, and the Poles anticipated the probable restoration of their ancient monarchy. One portion of Poland was, in 1815, erected into a kingdom, and obtained a constitution. Although these political arrangements fell far short of the nation's hopes, yet there was enough of promise in the events of the period to excite the imaginations of the young and ardent. Emotions, common to the nation, were shared by the young in their schools and seminaries, added strength to friendship, and inspired with enthusiasm and devotion both individual sentiment and public feeling.

On the death of the prince in 1823, his court-the last left to Poland-dispersed. Josephine retired with the family, amongst whom she had hitherto resided, to their estate in Podlachia. There she received an offer of marriage. At this conjuncture, the most important of a woman's life, Josephine was spared the sweets and pangs which usually attend upon the course of love. The person who asked her hand had not exchanged ten words with her before he made his proposals, and she accepted his offer, for the sole reason, that he possessed the esteem of all who knew him. M. Szyrma had just returned from a tour in Germany, France, and England. Literature was his profession: he had obtained academical honours in the university of Warsaw, and was then a candidate for the vacant chair of moral philosophy, which he succeeded in obtaining. His moral and patriotic qualities decided Josephine to accept him for her husband; respect for these rather than love influenced her choice. Josephine Szyrma had now completed her twenty-first year. She was of the middle size, well proportioned, and graceful. Her demeanour was dignified, and she was distinguished by the peculiar expression of benignity with which she bowed; her eyes beamed with intelligence and benignity; in her own country, such eyes were called "eyes of wisdom" her features were characterised by modest decision, tinged with thoughtful

ness.

A newly-married couple are always subjects for speculation. On their arrival at Warsaw, resemblances and differences between the bride and bridegroom were sought and found; their tempers, characters, ages, &c., were discussed; the conclusions drawn were in their favour; and it was decided they possessed a remarkable similarity in the most important points, and even that they resembled each other in person. The promotion of so young a man to the chair of moral philosophy had excited some envy amongst a few individuals; but the feeling was dissipated by a remark made by one of the professors, that the young philosopher, in choosing such a wife, had surpassed Socrates himself in wisdom. It was goodhumouredly determined that, for the future, the philosophy of the other professors should be tested by their discernment in avoiding a Xantippe.

Madame Szyrma possessed the tact of appearing with singular propriety under all circumstances-dignified in the assemblies of the great, interesting to the learned, and pleasing to all: she was also known as the active housewife and the indulgent mistress. She trained her domestics to her service. The culinary art in Poland is far from simple; and some patience is needed in dressing the various dishes and delicacies of the table, as well as in giving instructions for their preparation. On one occasion, at the commencement of Josephine's duties as the mistress of a household, a refractory cook objected, that her mistress was too young to understand the management of a house better than she did this reply reaching the ears of M. Szyrma, he discharged the servant as a necessary mark of respect to his young wife. The woman refused to quit the house; nor would she leave a

:

mistress to whom she was really attached, until removed by the police. Madame Szyrma, however, blamed her husband for an exhibition of aristocratic feeling and manner, which, she said, he had brought with him from England, jestingly adding, "for this cause she could not love him." After training her domestics to useful and regular habits, she usually interested herself in seeing them well married, and never ceased to take an interest in their welfare and happiness. Their attachment to her was unfailing; and in one instance a servant voluntarily quitted her husband to accompany her former mistress when leaving her country as an exile. Madame Szyrma, however grateful, could not conceal from the woman that this proof of attachment was at variance with her duty.

Josephine left school in her sixteenth year, and became an inmate in the family of Prince Czartoryski's physician. She was six or seven years older than the doctor's two daughters, and stood rather in the relation of their sister than of their governess; they all studied together under the parent's direction. At Siemiaura, the principal seat of the family of Czartoryski, Josephine was frequently a guest: she may be The beginning of married life is full of importance. said there to have made her entrance into the world. Madame Szyrma possessed the qualities most favourThe court of the prince was the resort of natives and able to a happy commencement. She had seen enough foreigners of birth and distinction: he was himself of the world to give her a relish for the seclusion nedistinguished for his literary attainments, as well as cessary to her husband's occupations, yet she could for his patriotism, hospitality, and splendour. The still adorn and enjoy society. Having had the opporestate was of great extent, comprising towns and vil-tunity to look upon the present as it is, and upon the lages. The princess was very attentive to the wants of her poor neighbours, and sought to place herself on easy and familiar terms with them. The eldest son,

past as history represents it, her judgment was of a practical kind, and her sentiments possessed a masculine strength, tempered by feminine delicacy. Accus