and ill-scavengered apparently from indifference. The newer streets have rushed up as building speculations, without any system of draining and paving being enforced. Thus both classes of streets are bad. The reporter from Manchester, Dr R. B. Howard, expresses, however, his belief, that the "human miasms" generated in over-crowded and ill-ventilated rooms, are a more frequent and efficient cause of fever than the malaria arising from collections of refuse and want of drainage. "I have been led," he says, "to this conclusion, from having remarked that fever has generally prevailed more extensively in those houses where the greatest numbers are crowded together, and where ventilation was most deficient, although the streets in which they are situated may be well-paved, drained, and tolerably free from filth, than in those where there was less crowding, notwithstanding their being placed in the midst of nuisances giving rise to malaria." On this point, we should like to ascertain if the latter were not the more free from destitution; for it is pretty well made out, that sufficient food and exercise fortify, to some extent, against the effects of impure air, while a deficiency in these respects form predisposers to those diseases of which the impure air is, in our opinion, the proximate or most immediate cause. On the subject of over-crowding, many facts are presented in these volumes. For instance, an Irishman employed as watchman at Mr Walker's silk-mill at Patricroft, near Manchester, and who had a house of three small rooms, was asked by his master if he could give a temporary lodging to a few new hands. Paddy regretted that he had not room, and added, "Faith, I turned out thirty of them to the mills this morning!" The reporter from Norfolk and Suffolk, Mr Twisleton, describes four classes of cottages as prevailing among the rural labouring people. The first are of one apartment, generally occupied by not more than two persons. The second, which are a very extensive class among labourers, consist of two rooms, one above the other, the lower being a kitchen and parlour, the upper a bed-room for the whole family, a system of things of which it is unnecessary to particularise the evil results. The next, or third class, have the addition of a small out-house behind, where washing and some other domestic duties are performed, and which of course tends to make the front low room more clean and decent. The fourth class have two rooms below and two above, which may be considered ample accommodation, unless where the family is unusually large. There are instances where labouring families, no way superior to their neighbours, occupy the better sort of cottages; but, generally, it is found that having a tolerable house accommodation is favourable to the moral condition of that class of people. Mr Lowe, of Marston, Stafford, draws this contrast, which is sufficiently instructive : "If we follow the agricultural labourer into his miserable dwelling, we shall find it consisting of two rooms only; the day-room, in addition to the family, contains the cooking utensils, the washing apparatus, agricultural implements, and dirty clothes, the windows broken and stuffed full of rags. In the sleeping apartment, the parents and their children, boys and girls, are indiscriminately mixed, and frequently a lodger sleeping in the same and the only room; generally no window; the openings in the half-thatched roof admit light, and expose the family to every vicissitude of the weather; the liability of the children so situated to contagious maladies, frequently plunges the family into the greatest misery. The husband, enjoying but little comfort under his own roof, resorts to the beer-shop, neglects the cultivation of his garden, and impoverishes his family. The children are brought up without any regard to decency of behaviour, to habits of foresight, or self-restraint. They make indifferent servants; the girls become the mothers of bastards, and return home a burden to their parents or to the parish, and fill the workhouse. The boys spend the Christmas week's holiday, and their year's wages, in the beer-shop, and enter upon their new situation in rags. Soon tired of the restraint imposed upon them under the roof of their master, they leave his service before the termination of the year's engagement, seek employment as day-labourers, not with a view of improving their condition, but with a desire to receive and spend their earnings weekly in the beershop; associating with the worst of characters, they become the worst of labourers, resort to poaching, commit petty thefts, and add to the county rates by commitments and prosecutions. On the contrary, on entering an improved cottage, consisting, on the ground-floor, of a room for the family, a wash-house, and a pantry, and three sleepingrooms over, with a neat and well-cultivated garden, in which the leisure-hours of the husband being both pleasantly and profitably employed, he has no desire to frequent the beer-shop, or spend his evenings from home; the children are trained to labour, to habits and feelings of independence, and taught to connect happiness with industry, and to shrink from idleness and immorality. The girls make good servants, obtain the confidence of their employer, and get promoted to the best situations. The boys, at the termination of the year's engagement, spend the Christmas week's holiday comfortably under the roof of their parents; clothes suitable for the next year's service are provided, and the residue of wages is deposited in the saving's bank; a system of frugality is engrafted with the first deposit, increasing with every addition to the fund. They are gradually employed in those depart ments of labour requiring greater skill, and implying I have selected an extreme case, to show more fully nature may have endowed them with in such a way as to raise them from their existing grade." But in Kilmarnock, "we continually see enterprising clever journeymen saving a little money, forming partnerships, entering upon small manufacturing businesses on their own account, and not only raising themselves to respectable positions in society, but, by their example, affording such inducements to others to indusCleaning, draining, cottage-building, are objects for try, sobriety, and carefulness, that the whole class of society, or benevolent and affluent persons. But the the manufacturing population is elevated to a higher poor are shown to have much in their own power also. status than in Ayr. Besides rendering themselves The colliers of East and Mid-Lothian, with compara- expert in the manual operations of their trades, they tively large wages, are described in several reports as acquire a knowledge of the mechanical and chemical generally living in very wretched filthy dwellings, principles of the manufacturing processes in which while the agricultural labourers of the same counties, they are engaged, and the modes of transacting genewith much less gains (never exceeding L.25 per an- ral business; so that, with a little money and a liberal num), have clean smiling cottages, which it is a plea- credit, they experience no difficulty in conducting sure to enter. The difference lies in the moral and similar works for themselves. The operatives of Ayr domestic habits of the two classes, the colliers being are decidedly their inferiors in intelligence, enterprise, too often given to liquor, and their wives lazy and im- and ambition; and I attribute this inferiority to the provident, while the farm labourers are the very want of local manufacturing establishments. In Kilreverse. Dr S. Alison, who practised at Tranent, says marnock, the poorest operative, and the most opulent that he never got fees from the well-paid colliers, but manufacturer, are linked together by an uninterrupted always from the poorly-paid farm servants. He adds, chain. A constant intercourse is kept up amongst that at Pencaitland collieries, where no liquor is the several classes of society; and whilst the increased allowed to be sold, the men are strikingly superior in intelligence and cultivation that obtain amongst the conduct, and have better dwellings and better ap- operatives are, no doubt, met by a lower state of repointed families. Mr Twisleton says "The cleanli- finement, and less fastidiousness in the manners and ness of a cottage bears no direct proportion to the tastes of their superiors, than in more aristocratic earnings of the inmates. The earnings of a family communities, even this is not without its advantages; may amount to 17s. or 18s. a-week; but if the man is because, when a mechanic raises himself by successful a drunkard, or the wife has slovenly and tawdry habits, enterprise to an equality with his hitherto more oputhe children look neglected and dirty, and their cot-lent townsmen, he finds that there is no great barrier, tage presents the most repulsive aspect." This gentle- from difference of education and habits, to prevent an man states, that in his district (Norfolk and Suffolk) unrestrained intercourse with the social circle of which some of the dwellings of even "the paupers with small he has now become a member. At the same time, allowances are exquisitely clean and neat. 'Sir,' said common feelings and interests still connect him with a pauper of this class to me, when I was praising her his quondam fellow-operatives, amongst whom are to for the neatness of her cottage, if I had not a morsel be found his nearest relatives; and whilst they receive of bread to eat, as long as I can move about, I will from him their daily wages, their histories, circumkeep my house sweet and clean.' It is easily under-stances, characters, habits, and wants, are familiarly stood that such instances are not very numerous, but known to him. Hence, when distress assails a labourstill they occur sufficiently often to prove that dirt ing family, they are not merely regarded as objects of and filth are not the necessary companions of poverty, compassion, from being fellow-creatures in affliction, and they may tend to put benevolent persons on their but they receive the full flow of sympathy due to guard, who might be inclined to infer unmerited pri- brothers and friends, who are only separated from vation and suffering from the neglected and squalid their more fortunate neighbours by events of recent appearance of a dwelling." To this we can add a occurrence, and capable of being easily traced." In somewhat remarkable illustration of the same point, Ayr this pleasing condition of things does not exist, which has just come under our notice. At a recent though it is acknowledged that the affluent classes in distribution of prizes by a society in Edinburgh, for that town are remarkably bountiful to the poor. the tidiest and cleanest houses among the humbler classes, the first prize was awarded to a poor blind female, who sits in George Street playing upon a small hand organ for her bread. .The report from Kent and Sussex touches upon a certain want of proper feeling, which we do not remember seeing adverted to before, though we have known many instances of it. It is attributed by the reporter to the effects of the old poor-law, but such things exist where that law never prevailed. "I have seen," says he, "an old man come with tottering steps before a board of guardians petitioning for relief, whose grandson was at that moment mayor of one of the largest towns in the south of England. I have seen a chairman of a board produce a note from a lady living in a handsome house in the union, and enjoying an income of L.400 a-year, which note was to induce him to use his influence with the guardians to allow her brother, aged 70, a weekly allowance from the rates. I have seen an aged woman, in the extremest destitution, having lived several nights in barns, brought before the guardians; yet she had at that moment two unmarried sons, one earning 16s. a-week, and the other L.1: 1s., both of whom had refused to contribute anything to her support. I remember a farmer, who rented 180 acres of land, coming before a bench of magistrates to be excused poor's rates, on the ground that the guardians had insisted that he should keep his aged mother, who, under the old system, had been supported out of the rates. He seemed to have no idea that it was his duty to do so, but thought that the keeping his mother should be fairly considered as a set-off to his rates. In another union, an aged couple had a son earning 20s. a-week, and who was ascertained to be in possession of L.500, yet he refused to give a farthing to his parents, and resisted to the utmost a magisterial order to pay them 28. a-week. I remember another case of an old woman, past 80, seeking refuge in a work-house, whose son was a farmer living in another part of the county, to whom the guardians wrote, requesting him to support his mother; the answer was, I received your letter, and am sorry to hear of my mother's distress.' He then refused to do as requested, but at the conclusion of the letter, as if seized by a sudden impulse of affection, adds, when I see her, I am not against giving her a shilling.' She, however, died in a few days, and thus released him from a burden he was so unwilling to bear." THE GOSSIP.-A TALE. MRS THOMPSON was a widow lady "without incumbrance." At the death of her husband, who had been a functionary in a public office, she was left with nothing save a small annuity, resulting from her husband's carefulness. On this pittance she contrived to exist, renting a small house in the outskirts of the town, and keeping up an acquaintance with those families who had known her in better circumstances during the life of her husband. Her house-rent and clothes absorbed the greater portion of her small income, and, for the rest, she leant considerably on her friends, the greater number of whom received her at their table or fireside, more from sympathy and benevolence than from personal regard. She nevertheless endeavoured to make herself agreeable and acceptable, by recounting whatever occurred to her in her peregrinations from house to house; and the day of Mrs Thompson's visit to those who favoured her with a general invitation, was looked upon as a day to be set apart for a general and perhaps amusing gossip. It was never supposed by those who entertained Mrs Thompson, that, in the indulgence of her gossipping propensities, she had any desire or intention to injure those whose conduct was the subject of her animadversion; but going about as she did, day after day, she found it necessary to have something to say, and if that something was of a nature calculated to excite surprise, so much the better; her visit was then more likely to go off with eclat, and she had a greater certainty of being well received on a future occasion. The opening of our story finds Mrs Thompson at the house of Mrs Darsie, one of those whose house and table were at all times open to the "widow and such as are oppressed," and from whom Mrs Thompson had received many benefits. After a day well spent in that kind of conversation for which Mrs Thompson had a peculiar gift, she felt nearly exhausted, and feared she would be under the necessity of taking leave, when a new chord was happily struck, by her addressing herself to Mrs Darsie, and asking, as if by the bye, whether she had seen Miss Halling who had come to town for the purpose of getting "her things" for her approaching wedding. "Oh yes," replied Mrs Darsie; "I called to see her yesterday, at her aunt's." "And what do you think of her ?" again inquired Mrs Thompson; "I hear various accounts of hersome say she is very pretty, while others again call her rather plain in appearance." Amongst the other points of a novel nature brought out in these reports, we find one of a striking nature in that from Ayr. This town, we may premise, is one of about 18,000 inhabitants: it is a genteel county "I think," answered Mrs Darsie, "that hers is a town, without native manufactures, but a large la- countenance depending greatly upon expression for bouring class, mainly composed of colliers and its beauty. It will depend very much upon the weavers. Kilmarnock, twelve miles off, has as many humour she may be in at the moment whether she be inhabitants, but is eminently a manufacturing town. thought pretty or otherwise. To me she appeared to In the one place, the working-people "have scarcely possess great sweetness of disposition, and a gentleany means of applying those mental qualities whichness of manner which is extremely pleasing; but I remember her mother too well not to have made comparisons between her and her daughter, which I confess were not altogether flattering to the latter." "Oh, by the bye, Mrs Halling was a friend of yours, I think, before you were married," said Mrs Thompson. "Yes, she and I were most affectionate companions at school, and our intimacy continued until she was married; but she went to reside, you know, in a remote part of the country, and we gradually ceased to hear much of each other, and latterly we have been entirely estranged; but when I heard of the daughter of my old friend coming to town on an occasion so interesting, I was most happy to call and offer my congratulations." "And was Mrs Halling really so good-looking as a girl?" pursued Mrs Thompson. "She was, in my opinion, the finest looking woman I ever saw-I mean the handsomest in person, and the most distinguished in features and general appearance: there was a grandeur in her look, if I may so express it, that I have never seen equalled." "Then the daughter does not resemble the mother?" said Mrs Thompson. "Oh no," replied her hostess, warming as she continued to speak of the chosen friend of her youth: "There was a dignity of manner, a character, about her mother, which Miss Halling decidedly wants." "My dear, take care what you say," jocularly interposed Mr Darsie, who was sitting quietly by the window reading the paper, and whose ear caught the last sentence uttered by his wife. "It is not safe to speak of ladies wanting characters." "Oh, you know in what sense I mean the word to apply to Miss Halling," answered Mrs Darsie. "I repeat, there was a something about Mrs Halling, a distinction, which I can call by no other name than character, and I am sure her daughter has no claim to the title; but she is an amiable, gentle girl, and I am sure I wish her all manner of happiness in her new position, both for her own sake and for that of her good mother." The subject of Miss Halling, after a few other remarks, soon died away, and Mrs Thompson found herself at last obliged to take leave of her kind friend Mrs Darsie. Time, which is, or which should be, considered the wealth of the poor, was of no further consequence to Mrs Thompson, excepting that it required some degree of tact and management as to its disposal in a social point of view, so that she might not go too often to the same house; so she determined to spend the next day with Mrs Hewitt, a widow lady, with whom she had been long on terms of intimacy, and who had a family of grown-up sons, fine young men, who were all doing well in the world. When the young gentlemen came home to dinner, George, the eldest, who was head clerk in an insurance office in town, laughingly addressing his mother, said, "Mother, I deserve an extra allowance of the good things to-day, for I have been doing double duty at the office, and I am sadly worn out; Mr Hamilton, our manager, has been absent, and I have been interim manager,' besides clerk." "Oh," cried William Hewitt, one of the younger lads, "I saw him two or three times to-day with Miss Halling; I suppose they had been shopping. What a nice mild-looking girl she is, and what a luck she has had in getting such a match as Mr Hamilton." "Ay, he's a fine fellow," said George; "and, from all I hear of his choice, she seems deserving of such a husband." Mrs Thompson's face all at once became as it were condensed, and every feature seemed to perk out with the importance of what she had to communicate, but she was evidently at a loss how to bring it forth. An opportunity soon occurred, by one of the young men asking her whether she knew Miss Halling. "No, indeed!" she exclaimed; "I have never seen her, but I have heard a good deal about her; only yesterday, I heard a lady remark that she was somehow or other not altogether a person of character." "A person of character!" repeated all the lads at once; "surely, Mrs Thompson, you are mistaken as to the lady of whom we are speaking; you must mean some other Miss Halling, surely." "I don't think I can be mistaken as to the person," persisted Mrs Thompson, "seeing that the lady who spoke of her to me had been at one time the most intimate friend of Miss Halling's mother; perhaps I am wrong in saying anything about it; but of this I am certain, that Miss Halling-the Miss Halling you mean was spoken of as being decidedly a person of doubtful character." This appeared conclusive testimony to the young men, whose wonder was excited in no small degree by the statement of Mrs Thompson; and it is needless to state, that before many hours had elapsed, at least a dozen of their young acquaintances had been made aware that Mr Hamilton was about to marry a young lady of doubtful character. Some mornings afterwards, Mr Hamilton was sitting in his lodgings at breakfast, when the postman's knock was heard at the door, and a letter was handed in. He broke the seal, and commenced reading; but before he had got half way through the first page, his handsome face glowed with indignation, and then became deadly pale: he glanced at the foot of the second page, but the epistle was nameless, save that it purported to have come from "a friend;" the contents, however, appeared to be perused in anything but a friendly humour, for, in a paroxysm of irrepressible passion, he tore it across; then, as if all at once recollecting himself, he looked over it once more, and sitting down at his desk, exerted his ingenuity in patching the paper together again; and, folding it up carefully, he placed it in his pocket-book, seized his hat, and walked out. Miss Halling sat at the window of her aunt's drawing-room, every now and then looking at her watch, and wondering what had become of her lover, who had promised to be with her very early in the forenoon, that they might walk out together for the purpose of selecting some important articles of furniture for their new home. It was now one o'clock, and still he had not arrived, and she determined to punish him for his apparent neglect, by exhibiting a little anger, when she all at once heard the welcome sound of his voice in the lobby below, and the petulance she had tried to assume was entirely forgotten. With the solicitude which ever accompanies true affection, Miss Halling, on looking upon the face of her lover, at once detected that something had occurred to discompose him; and with the most earnest anxiety she besought him to tell her what had happened to him since they parted the evening before, when he was all cheerfulness and animation. "I see, Eliza,” he replied, "I am a bad hypocrite. I would fain have concealed from you the cause of my present annoyance, but it has pressed so heavily upon me, that I find I cannot all at once shake it off. Here is a letter," he continued, taking the anonymous epistle from his pocket, "which I received this morning; but, before you read it, I beg to satisfy you thus far, that I do not believe one word of its contents, and would have treated it with the scorn which all such communications deserve. My indignation alone, not my suspicion, has been roused, and could I only get hold of the villain who thus dares to slander you, I fancy I should make him repent of having subscribed himself' my friend.'' The contents of this precious letter it is unnecessary to repeat; its tenor will at once be understood as bearing upon the character of Miss Halling, who sat with it in her hands, as if she did not fully compre hend what had been but now said with reference to its contents. While her eye wandered from line to line, the expression of her sweet face underwent a thousand changes, and her beautiful swan-like throat became suddenly distended with the violence of an internal emotion, which she apparently could neither utter nor suppress; all at once it broke forth in a fit of wild hysterical sobbing, every heave of which seemed of itself sufficient to rend asunder a frame which was by nature extremely fragile. Her unhappy lover, whose distress was more than ever apparent, though now it proceeded from a very different cause, stood with the agitated girl in his arms, endeavouring, by every soothing and endearing term, to arrest the extraordinary violence of her grief, but her mind seemed incapable of receiving any consolation; in this state she was conveyed to bed, where she lay for several hours under the influence of this excited state of feeling. Feverishness came on during the night, and next morning the envied, pretty, gentle Miss Halling, was labouring under an attack of brain fever of the most virulent kind, the victim of false witness. not contemplated the possibility of such serious re sults following the information she had given at the table of Mrs Hewitt; and it was with shame and confusion she referred Mr Hamilton to Mrs Darsie, who had been, she said, her informant. To Mrs Darsie Mr Hamilton immediately proceeded, wondering, as he went, where this was to end; for the more he sought to find the origin of his misery, the farther did he seem to be from tracing it to its source. On entering the drawing-room of Mrs Darsie, he found that lady alone; and it was with no small degree of perturbation that he asked her if she had ever made any remarks derogatory to the character of Miss Halling. The truth all at once flashed on the mind of Mrs Darsie, from the associations called up at the mention of the word character; and she at once repeated the conversation which had occurred in presence of Mrs Thompson, adding, that she had no doubt whatever that that had been the fabric from which the whole had been raised. She deeply regretted that she had not taken more pains to make her application of the important word character clearly understood by the simple woman with whom she was conversing; but yet it seemed, as even Mr Hamilton acknowleged, most unlikely that her real meaning could have been mistaken. On learning the sad condition to which the young lady had been reduced, nothing could exceed her distress, and she flew to make what reparation she could by the humblest apologies, to the friend of her youth, Mrs Halling. Meanwhile, the fever of poor Eliza approached the crisis which was to favour or blast for ever the hopes of her anxious and affectionate friends, who watched every movement and every respiration of the unconscious sufferer with an eagerness and anxiety which testified how deeply they were interested in the result. Though she was at length declared out of danger, it was soon apparent that the shock had been too great for one so gently formed by nature. Instead of bending to the blow, her mental energies had been prostrated at once and for ever; she recovered only her bodily health; in mind, she had become a helpless, hopeless, though harmless imbecile! Who shall presume to describe the affliction caused by this event through a wide circle of sorrowing friends! Her father and mother wept in silent anguish over the wreck of the cherished idol of their home and affections; while the grief of the bereaved lover spent itself in alternate bursts of sorrow for his less and indignation against those by whom it had been caused; and bitterly did he reproach himself for his want of caution, in having allowed his gentle mistress to gain a knowledge of the contents of the letter which had proved so destructive to her happiness and peace of mind. charge to the home which had, until then, been Mr and Mrs Halling returned with their helpless cheered and gladdened by her presence; but what a change had been produced on her, the object of their fondest solicitude, during the short interval of her absence! She had left them an amiable intelligent woman, animated by the prospects of happiness which were opening up to her. She returned externally the same; but the intelligence was gone; instead of a source of perpetual pleasure, she had become a living sorrow, though one in which all who knew her were deeply interested. Mr Hamilton never married; and it was his custom once every year to visit his gentle mistress, who always appeared gratified by his presence, though she otherwise manifested no consciousness of the relation which they had once borne towards each other; nor was it ever apparent that she had any recollection of the reverses which had befallen her. How sudden and painful are the reverses to which even the purest and best of God's creatures are every moment liable in this world, where all is mutable! Here was an amiable, innocent woman, reduced, in a few hours, from a state of happiness as perfect as one Mrs Thompson, who, from no evil purpose compacould desire, to a condition of abject, helpless imbeci-rable to the event, but merely through a culpable lity, involving not only her own safety, but the peace love of gossip, had wrought all this woe, met with and comfort of all those who regarded her with affec- what was to her a severe punishment; for the tragedy tion and respect. And from what cause reduced? By of Eliza Halling closed many doors against her, and no fault of hers either in word or deed. She had done she was thenceforth obliged to spend most of her days nothing to bring about her own destruction; nor at home, where, we will hope, a proper spirit of recould it be said that she was the victim of any malig-pentance mingled with the vexation arising from the nant or vindictive passion in others. She fell a prey to loss of her friends. a chain of circumstances having their origin in ignorance, and that love of telling something wonderful, which forms so conspicuous a feature of common discourse, especially among those who have little occupation of a proper kind for their minds. The illness of Miss Halling assumed so alarming an aspect, that it was deemed necessary to summon her parents from the country, and to them Mr Hamilton reluctantly confided the story of his griefs. The vigorous mind of Mrs Halling immediately suggested the propriety of adopting means to discover, if possible, the writer of the letter which had produced effects so baneful to the health and peace of her beloved daughter. Mr Hamilton had already tried every method he could think of to find out the origin of all his sufferings; but his mind had been in a measure paralysed ever since he had witnessed the distressing scene with Miss Halling, above related. Backed, however, and roused from this state of torpidity by the energetic suggestions of Eliza's mother, he set about his task with a resolute spirit, and after the most painful investigations, which it is unnecessary to follow, he succeeded in tracing the letter to a young man, a friend of William Hewitt, from whom he had had the information, and he, in his turn, referred the unhappy lover to Mrs Thompson. The consternation and dismay of this person, when Mr Hamilton called upon her, was extreme. She had DR TURNBULL'S TREATMENT OF THE EYE. A FEW weeks ago, an extract from the Literary Gazette gave our readers a brief notice of some interesting experiments of Dr Turnbull for the cure of blindness, the agent employed being the vapour of hydrocyanic or prussic acid applied to the defective organ of vision. Since that time, Dr T., it appears from the following communication to the Lancet, has been engaged in investigating the action of bisulphuret of carbon, not only for the cure of blindness, but as a remedy for deafness. It will be understood, that we present no opinion on the reality or value of the alleged discoveries, but simply do a duty to the public in laying before them the letter of Dr Turnbull in the form in which it has appeared in the Lancet and other medical works. SIR-In October 1841, I gave an account of the action of the vapour of hydrocyanic acid upon diseases of the eye. Since that period, I have been engaged in investigating the action of various other bodies on the same organ, and under the same form. One reason why I did not rest satisfied with the great effects produced by the hydrocyanic acid was, that its action, like that of all other medicines, decreased in power by continued application, thereby rendering it necessary to have occasional recourse to a medicine. other medicines, in order to insure a more speedy recovery. Another reason was, the reluctance of many individuals to submit the eye to the action of so potent The first medicines to which I shall refer, and which I have employed with some success, are the chlorocyanic acid and sulphuretted chyazic acid. The plan I pursue is that of putting a drachm of one of the medicines into a bottle (containing a small piece of sponge) of about two-ounce size, having a mouth precisely fitted to the eye, and with a ground-glass stopper. The action of these medicines is very different from that of the hydrocyanic acid, in as far as they both stimulate the eye, and produce much greater warmth and irritation, with less dilatation of the pupil. Few, however, can bear the chlorocyanic acid to be applied longer to the eye than half a minute, though, in a minute after its application, all irritation is removed, and the eye feels perfectly at ease. The next medicine which I have employed in the form of vapour was the chloruret of iodine. This medicine produces very little warmth or uneasiness to the eye, if continued for the space of two minutes or upwards; but a sensation of irritation, accompanied with a flow of tears, takes place on its removal. It contracts the pupil, and in no case have I seen it dilate it. Its vapour rises very readily, and does not leave the yellow disagreeable colouring on the skin produced by the vapour of iodine, when uncombined, which is a great drawback in the use of iodine in diseases of the eye. The last medicine which I have employed is the bisulphuret of carbon, which is so volatile, that the application of it to the eye, when the bottle is held in a warm hand for a few seconds, is as much as can be borne, in consequence of the intense pricking heat and flow of tears which it occasions. Owing to this fact, I generally use it by causing the patient to shut the eyelid during its application, which can then be continued for a minute or two with the same beneficial effect upon the eye, and without inconvenience to the patient. It generally contracts the pupil, and very seldom dilates it. ret of carbon. I used to employ iodine by putting it into the same bottles, and immersing it in hot water, and in its state of vapour applying it to the eye; but I now find it answers much better when dissolved in the bisulphuIt is my intention, shortly, to give a full account of the action of these medicines upon the various forms of disease to which the eye is subject, and also what particular disease each medicine is best calculated to remove. At the same time I shall state such instances of failure as have occurred in my experience, in order that a just estimate may be formed of the value and importance of each medicine. It may not be out of place here to state, that I have employed, with great success, the bisulphuret of carbon to enlarged indurated lymphatic glands. In the first instance, I rubbed equal quantities of the bisulphuret of carbon and alcohol upon the parts affected, but without any effect upon the glands. But as its effects were so great when its vapour was confined to the eye, I was led to apply it in the form of vapour, and by means of glass bottles similar to those I have described. By these means, I excluded the action of the medicine from the external air, and thereby prevented its speedy evaporation. When it had been applied about one minute, the patient felt the part very cold, but immediately after a gradual heat, accompanied with great prickling-the heat increasing the longer the medicine was kept in contact with the part, until it could no longer be endured. On removing the glass, the part was red to an extent two or three times greater than the part enclosed. In a few days the change in the size of the glands was very great; and by its daily repetition, a complete and speedy removal of the disease was effected. I also find that its action upon diseased glands is more decided if the surface of the skin is well moistened with water previous to the application of the bottle to the part. The water, in fact, not only prevents the escape of the vapour between the glass and the skin, but assists the imbibition of the carbon; a point of the highest importance, inasmuch as all its action on the part depends upon the exclusion of the atmosphere from the vapour. I may here observe, that these applications occasion no injury whatever to the skin. I have also found the bisulphuret of carbon and the chlorocyanic acid valuable medicines in the removal of deafness, depending upon a want of nervous energy and deficiency of wax. The mode of its application is substantially the same as that which I employ in diseases of the eye, with this difference only, that the bottle is formed with a small neck and stopper adapted to the size of the orifice of the ear, and held close to the organ until a considerable degree of warmth is produced. in those parts of the body to which arterial blood, and expressed the greatest joy in finding him of so Does not the action of medicines containing so large I have submitted these observations under the con- A HIGHLAND CHIEF OF THE SEVENTEENTH trouble on that account." When, after the battle of Worcester, Cromwell's deputy, General Monk, reduced the Lowland parts of Scotland, the Highlands remained obstinately opposed to his power, and maintained a partisan warfare of the most sanguinary kind against his troops. Our young chief now found excellent opportunities of showing his valour. He joined the Earl of Glencairn, who acted as commander, with seven hundred Camerons, and soon became remarkable for taking the lead THE Abbotsford Club, an association of gentlemen 1652, when Glencairn lay at Tullich, in Braemar, the in every dangerous enterprise. Towards the end of who print for their own private use old manuscripts Camerons held a post at a little distance, between the illustrative of our national history, have within the royalists and the republican troops. The latter adlast few weeks completed the impression of one of an vanced to give a surprise, but were warmly received unique nature-a memoir, to wit, of Sir Ewen Came- by Locheil, who defended the pass against them, until ron of Locheil, a distinguished Highland chief of the Glencairn had drawn off to a place of safety. In the seventeenth century. We call it unique, because no hurry of retreat, the earl forgot to give any orders for Highland chief of past time ever had the honour of so the retirement of Locheil's people, who accordingly, extensive a biography. The work was composed, it with blind devotion to duty, stood opposed for hours is believed, about the year 1740, by John Drummond to the whole advancing force, and, but for the advanof Balhadie, who may be supposed to have had all tage of ground, must have been cut to pieces. As it possible advantages in compiling it, both as far as was, the carrying of that pass cost the English very family papers and family traditions were concerned, dearly. On this occasion, we find that one half of the since he was either a grandson or a great-grandson of Camerons were armed with bows, with which they Cameron. As a minute and faithful piece of personal sorely galled the English cavalry. In the campaigns history, it is a highly curious production, and it throws of considerable light upon some unusually obscure portions of our national annals. Nor can we doubt that the hero is worthy of such an epic; for, though some may be inclined to smile at the idea of any importance being attached to the leader of a Highland clan of two hundred years ago, the fact is, that Sir Ewen Cameron was a man of very admirable character. In majesty of personal appearance, he is said to have coped with his contemporary Louis XIV. Some of his exploits in the resistance to Cromwell call up the recollection of Wallace, Tell, and Kosciusko. And throughout a life of ninety years, though he might often have been called rebel, no one could ever attribute to him what would pass before a jury of candid men as a dishonourable action. Indeed he was a remarkable instance of the concentration of the finest qualities that belong to the peculiar rank and state of society in which his lot was cast. The Camerons occupy a considerable territory in the district of Lochaber, in Inverness-shire, and were, in the time of Charles I., a clan capable of sending from seven hundred to a thousand armed men into the field. Ewen Cameron, born in 1629 to the unquestioned rule of this tribe, was brought up under the care of the Marquis of Argyle, the chief of the anti-royalist party in Scotland throughout the civil war. He received little school learning, but much instruction from the conversation of men, and became a proficient in all manly and warlike exercises. Never was master less successful in impressing his mind upon a pupil than was Argyle with young Locheil. All the effect of the example and tutelage of years was effaced by one conversation which the youth obtained clandestinely with the royalist Sir Robert Spottiswood, the day before his execution. Sir Robert gave him such a view of the politics of the period, that he became, from that hour, a steady royalist, notwithstanding all the opposite arguments of his tutor. Little did the venerable Spottiswood think what a weapon he was leaving for the revenge of his death upon the party who ordered it. Not long after this event, CameThe following quotations from Professor Liebig, in ron, succeeding by the death of his grandfather in his work on "Organic Chemistry," sufficiently to the chiefship, went home to his people, who met prove the correctness of this position:-" It is only The action of these medicines, which contain so large a share of carbon, arises from the carbon in the vapour permeating the cuticle, and coming in contact with the oxygen in the vessels, which is conveyed through every part of the frame by inspiration and otherwise, and thereby forming carbonic acid gas, which evolves heat in the ratio of the quantity consumed by the oxygen. him at the distance of a day's journey on the way, 1653 and 1654, Locheil took an equally conspicuous part, and it was found necessary, among other expedients for reducing the Highlands, to establish a garrison at Inverlochy, mainly for the purpose of overawing the Clan Cameron. The chief beheld with rage a great colony of Sassenach soldiers planted near his domains, and prowled round it for some days, but was unable to make an attack. He had dismissed all his men to their homes, excepting about thirty-five, most of whom were dunny-wassels, or gentlemen, when two vessels containing large detachments of the garrison were observed sailing into Loch Eil, their design being to gather wood and provisions on the hostile lands. One of the vessels discharged its company on the side where Cameron was stationed, and he determined on attacking them, though they were four or five times his number. Some of his friends, men who had been accustomed to the intrepid doings of Montrose, objected to the rashness of the scheme, but were persuaded to join in it nevertheless, only demanding that Locheil and his brother Allan should remain apart, as the hopes of the clan depended entirely on them. Locheil agreed as to his brother, but not as to himself, and the young man was accordingly bound to a tree, to make sure that he would not engage; yet he, after all, prevailed on a boy to cut his bonds, and went off to join the fight, where he arrived just in time to save his brother's life, by shooting an English soldier who was taking aim at him. The English soldiers met the assault not unpreparedly, and with the greatest firmness, but in their arms and mode of fighting, they were no fair match for the Highlanders, who, having first poured in upon them a destructive fire of musketry, and then taking to their broadswords, put them at once upon the defensive. To save themselves from the blows of the broadsword, they held their muskets across their foreheads; the Camerons then struck below. Some took to their swords, but these the Highlanders warded off with their targets. Some thrust with the bayonet; but, the point once received in the Highland target, both musket and bayonet were useless. Their ranks were soon thinned, but still they fought with resolution, and when they did retire, it was with regularity. hospitably entertained, they found him as courteous sword, with the intention of knighting him. The world. Locheil then committed a great mistake, by sending an ambuscade party to the rear to give them the notion that their retreat was cut off, the consequence of which was, that they turned and fought with more vigour than ever. They now clubbed their guns and fought like madmen, but all was in vain; in the end, they had to fall back to the lake, leaving the greater number of the party dead and wounded on the field. It was now that an incident occurred which Sir Walter Scott has introduced into his "Tales of a Grandfather," and which we shall here give in the words of Mr Drummond. "It was his (Locheil's) chance to follow a few that fled into the wood, where he killed two or three with his own hand, none having pursued that way but himself. The officer who commanded the party had likewise fled thither, but concealing himself in a bush, Locheil had not noticed him. This gentleman, observing that he was alone, started suddenly out of his lurking-place, and attacked him in his return, threatening, as he rushed furiously upon him, to revenge the slaughter of his countrymen by his death. Locheil, who had also his sword in his hand, received him with equal resolution. The combat was long and doubtful; both fought for their Early in 1657, Locheil wedded a daughter of Sir lives; and as they were both animated by the same James Macdonald of Sleat, under circumstances of fury and courage, so they seemed to manage their unusual festivity, the wedding being attended by genswords with the same dexterity. The English gentlemen from great distances, and among the rest by tleman had by far the advantage in strength; but "a cousin of the bridegroom's, the young Laird of Locheil exceeding him in nimbleness and agility, in Glenurchy, who was already conspicuous for that prothe end tripped the sword out of his hand. But he found judgment, penetration, and capacity, that afterwards acquired him so high a character, and advanced was not allowed to make use of this advantage; for him to the peerage, in the reign of King Charles II., his antagonist flying upon him with incredible quick- under the title of the Earl of Breadalbane." The ness, they closed and wrestled till both fell to the clan presented their chief with a sum equal to the ground in other's arms. In this posture they struggled, wedding expenses, and a Highland bard spouted an and tumbled up and down, till they fixed in the chan- extempore epithalamium, which was not perhaps the nel of a brook, betwixt two strait banks, which then, less flattering, that he desired the chief's influence in by the drouth of summer, chanced to be dry. Here regaining three cows that had been stolen from him. Locheil was in a most dismal and desperate situation; (The poet, we learn, got from Locheil and his comfor, being undermost, he was not only crushed under pany three cows instead, and three hundred merks to the weight of his antagonist (who was an exceeding boot. "It was unlucky for him that he did not menbig man), but likewise sore hurt, and bruised by many tion more of these gentlemen in his verses, for those sharp stones that were below him. Their strength he omitted were not so liberal as the rest.") was so far spent, that neither of them could stir a Locheil spent the remainder of the interregnum in limb; but the English gentleman, by the advantage peace, and it is a curious proof of the designs of Monk of being uppermost, at last recovered the use of his in his march southward, that he was accompanied by right hand. With it he seized a dagger that hung at this incorruptible Highland loyalist. Locheil withis belt, and made several attempts to stab his adver- nessed the entry of Charles II. into London, and by sary, who all the while held him fast; but the narrow- the favour of Monk, might, if his modesty had alness of the place where they were confined, and the lowed, have held the king's stirrup as he alighted at posture they were in, rendering the execution very his palace, for which another and less deserving perdifficult, and almost impracticable, while he was so son was well rewarded. It is sad to relate, that to straitly embraced, he made a most violent effort to him, as to many other sufferers in the royal cause, the disengage himself, and in that action raising his head, Restoration brought no advantages. On the contrary, and stretching his neck, Locheil, who by this had his the faithful Locheil was harassed with law proceedhands at liberty, with his left suddenly seized him by ings respecting many transactions of the time of the right, and with the other by the collar, and jump- trouble; and where Monk would have protected him ing at his extended throat (which he used to say God by a single line of writing, the present government put in his mouth), he bit it quite through." In this allowed him to be impoverished on account of acts extraordinary way he put an end to his adversary. done in its own behalf. His greatest annoyance arose Disengaged from this adventure, Locheil found his from a claim of the Laird of Mackintosh for a part of men chin deep in the lake, pursuing the remnant of his estate, which Locheil offered in vain to compound the English party to their ship. He immediately or- for by a sum of money. The reader will be surprised dered his men to give quarter to the enemy, who to learn, that so lately as the reign of Charles II., when delivered themselves up to the number of thirty-five Milton was writing his "Paradise Lost," and Barrow men; but one of the number, either not having under- and Tillotson were preaching, a litigant party in the stood this arrangement, or unwilling to submit to it, same island was furnished with letters of fire and sword proved the destruction of the whole, for, having fired against the defender; that is to say, a power of killing at the chief, and nearly killed him, the Camerons were and spoiling all he found on the estate of his adverso incensed at the act, as to fall upon the rest without sary. In the autumn of 1665, these two chiefs had mercy, so that only two of the whole party escaped. actually drawn up their forces to fight out the dispute, It is related that, while the conflict was drawing to a when the Earl of Breadalbane interposed, and brought close, a soldier having taken a very deliberate aim at about a settlement of the plea, exactly three hundred Locheil, his foster-brother, with the self-devotion com- and sixty years after it had been commenced. mon to the character in that age and country, threw himself before, and received the shot in his breast. Locheil carried the generous youth on his own back three miles to a burial ground, and interred him with all the honour it was in his power to bestow. At the close of this fight, it was found that only five of the Camerons had fallen; but almost every one of the rest was bruised or wounded. The bodies of the slain bore, as usual, strong testimony to the power of the Highland sword. | Other troubles followed these; but it is not our intention to enter into them, further than to relate a remarkably characteristic circumstance which occurred when Locheil was settling some dispute of long standing with the Earl of Argyle at Inverary, in 1675. Locheil had, it seems, for some days neglected to get himself shaved, which the earl observing, offered him the services of his French valet. While Locheil was undergoing the operation, the earl observed two of his men standing up at the door with a peculiar look of jealous watchfulness, of which, when the business was done, his lordship asked an explanation. The chief, who had not observed the men, inquired what they had meant by their conduct, and learnt that, knowing he had had a dispute with the earl, they feared treachery, and had resolved, if their suspicion proved true, first to kill his lordship and then the valet. "But," said the earl, "what do you imagine would have become of yourselves, if you had done such a thing?" "That we did not think upon," said they, "but we were resolved to revenge the murder of our chief." The earl praised their zeal for their chief's safety, gave each of them money, and so dismissed them, telling Locheil that he believed there was no prince in the world that had such loving and faithful A royalist party was maintained in the Highlands till March 1655: it had no more zealous member than Locheil, who distinguished himself in so many skirmishes with the troops of the commonwealth in different parts of the country, and inflicted so many severe chastisements on the garrison at Inverlochy, that his name at length became noted. Even after General Middleton gave up the appearance of a resistance on behalf of the royal family, this single chieftain still held out, and that powerful government which caused France, Spain, and Holland, to bow to it, was treated with open contempt, and held at defiance, by a power residing on the banks of Loch Arkaig. But this could not long continue. A commission of three colonels of the army at this time visited Argyleshire on some public business. While they lay in security in a vil-subjects. lage near Inverary, Locheil, attended by the Laird of Macnaughtan, and a few of his men, burst through the hut in which they slept, and took them all prisoners without resistance. They expected nothing but destruction from one whom fame represented as a bloody savage; and their surprise was great when, conducted peacefully to Locheil's country, and there A few years afterwards, an outrage committed by two of his clan, caused Locheil to be summoned to appear before the privy council in Edinburgh. While there, he was received with distinction by the Duke of York at his court, then held in Holyrood House. The duke put many questions to him concerning the adventures of his youth, and in the end requested his Though this weapon could not be more pure of stain than was the mind of Locheil of the least thought of disloyalty, he did not always escape suspicion. When in arms with his elan at Inverary for the suppression the commander, the Marquis of Athole; and a misof Argyle's rebellion, he was subject to the malice of adventure by night, in which his men fell upon a party of friends, taking them for enemies, furnished a handle for injuring him in the eyes of the government. Locheil only saved himself on that occasion by a direct appeal to the king (formerly Duke of York), in which it is odd to find him favoured by Barclay the Quaker, who was his brother-in-law, and a favourite of troubles on account of claims of superiority over his James. He was, however, continually exposed to legal estate on one occasion, law had gone so far against him, that, a writ having been prepared for his arrest in Edinburgh, he would unquestionably have been taken prisoner, if he had not, by a bright thought of his own, retired for an evening into the Tolbooth, or public jail, on pretext of visiting a friend-a clansman, who was clerk to the establishment, favouring his plan. Here we may see a prefigurement in actual fact, of a memorable scene in modern fiction, to which it is only necessary to allude. By the personal favour of the king, Locheil had only obtained a settlement of all his troubles, when he was again thrown upon the losing side by the Revolution. As a matter of course, the old royalist joined Lord Dundee with his clan, and took a hearty share in the endeavour to keep up the ex-king's interest in Scotland. Dundee, who saw in him a kindred spirit, and knew his great experience, trusted much to his advice, and it was by his recommendation that the resolution was formed to engage the troops of King William at Killiecranky. Though now sixty, he was as eager for conflict as ever, yet perfectly cool at all times; insomuch that, while leading on his men, feeling his shoes pinch, he sat down, took them off, and made them easier, and then rejoined his friends in time to fall on along with them. It is evident that, next to Dundee himself, the Highland army could not have had a better commander than Sir Ewen; and we are disposed to wonder that he was not raised to that honour after the death of Dundee, till we recollect that he wanted the self-esteem which forms an almost indispensable requisite for transforming a man into a leader. He escaped all the perils of this campaign, and was amongst the last to give even the most qualified submission to King William. Locheil was now, by three wives, the father of sons and daughters. The anecdote has often been told, of his seeing one of the former in a night bivouac upon snow, making up a snow-ball for a pillow, when Locheil, who was to rest in the same manner, kicked away the snow-ball, telling the youth that he must endeavour to make himself independent of such luxuries. On account of his age, he now gave over the command of the clan to his eldest son John, to whom, in 1696, he likewise transferred his estate, with the reservation of a life-rent only. He continued to keep up a correspondence with the exiled family, and in 1706 a warrant was issued to apprehend him on a charge of high treason, but not carried into execution. Years rolled on, without extinguishing the spirit of the aged chief; but when his son led out the clan in 1715 to fight for the son of his old master, Sir Ewen was nearly bed-rid with the infirmities of age. According to an account obtained by Pennant, in his tour of Scotland, the hoary chief was at last cradled like a child; but the whole extent of the fact seems to be, that, failing in his lower extremities, he had pulleys above his bed, by which he could turn himself from one side to another. In 1716, when he was eighty-seven years old, he had still sufficient strength in his grasp to make the blood spring from another man's hand. He died of a fever, in February 1719, aged ninety, without having ever had the chance, in all his long life, full as it was of perilous adventures, to lose one drop of his own blood, excepting on one occasion, when, by accident, he stepped upon a broken knife. The life and fortunes of an individual are recognised objects of human sympathy; why may not the life and fortunes of a family, which are but an extension of the subject, be so likewise? No one, at least, can well live in Scotland without feeling that a family history may possess much of the interest due to an individual. The grandson of Sir Ewen, the amiable Donald Cameron, "Young Locheil," led out the clan in 1745, and sighed out his life three years after on a foreign strand. Then came forfeiture and dispossession for forty years; but at length a mild and generous government restored the estates to a grandson of the latter, of the same name, whose widow, a daughter of Sir Ralph Abercromby, still survives. The son of the last gentleman is now chief of the Clan Cameron, or Locheil. Colonel Cameron of the 42d regiment, who fell at Waterloo, was a grand nephew of the Locheil of 1745; in consideration of his gallantry, the honour of knighthood was conferred on his father who only died a few years ago, Sir Ewen Cameron of Fassefern. We cannot conclude this notice without a cordial tribute of thanks to the gentleman who has brought forward the memoir, and edited it with so much taste and ability. THE PERIODICALS. THE FOREIGN QUARTERLY REVIEW FOR OCTOBER. THIS periodical continues to sustain a merited reputa- AMERICAN NEWSPAPER PRESS. "The marches off free of damage in public estimation. 66 The writer admits, at the outset, that there is a base newspaper press nearer home; that London has its infamous prints, but that the circulation of these papers is miserably low, and is, at all events, confined to the meanest quarters, and the most dissolute class of readers; such prints, therefore, must in no shape be confounded with the general newspaper press of the United Kingdom, which, in the hands of men of character and education, wages no war with the decencies of private life, and "not unworthily repreWe close with the following emphatic observations. sents a great and generous people." We have much" One of the wisest of the movers of the [American] Repleasure in adding our humble testimony to the truth volution always dwelt on the instability of the laws, as of the reviewer's remarks on this point. The provin- what he feared would prove the greatest blemish in the cial newspaper press of England and Scotland, with character and genius of the American governments.' But all its faults, is a thing of which the nation at large he hoped that the influence of manners would gradually corhas reason to feel proud-it shows that public senti-rect it. Could he have lived till now, we may imagine his ment is healthy at the core.. despair. Laws manners--the great improvers of civilisa"On the other hand," observes the reviewer, "what is tion in every other land that has pretence to either: supit that first occurs to us when we turn to the newspaper and lifting the people that they serve, gently but surely, porting each other, correcting and moderating each other, press of America? If we wish to judge of popular taste in the rank of nations-what is their condition in Ameby the paper in largest circulation, as in London we should ask for the Times, in New York we must ask for rica? We say that neither can co-exist with a newspaper the Herald. This is a paper published daily, in size literature such as we have described; so accessible, so more than a single sheet of the Times, and about a penny supported, and so utterly unchecked by one single enin price. Within the last month, it has boasted of a sale couraging tendency to the literary talent of the country to exert itself in a different direction. We have not deof nearly thirty thousand copies, and strange as it is to detect it in anything approaching to a truth, there cannot scribed it unfairly. There are men of character, and of in this be much exaggeration. It may be presumed, great ability, we know, connected with some of the Amethen, on a fair average to each copy, to have for its rican journals: we gladly recognise, without reference to readers some hundred thousand citizens of the United party or to circulation, the claims of such prints as the Washington Intelligencer, the Boston Daily Advertiser, the States. It circulates among all parties, all classes, all New York Evening Post, the New York American; but sects, all sexes.' Its conductor is thus self-described and we also know that in every case respectability has to fight named in a very recent publication: Owner, editor, proprietor, prophet, head man, head saint, head savan, against the want of popularity, and that the most estior head devil, just as you please, J. G. BOf themable and accomplished of these men, like Judge Noah when in that position, have to sacrifice much that in prireported private conduct or character of this accommodating person, it is not our intention to speak. It does vate life they would most dearly esteem. Party-party not interest us, nor would our readers care to know how-party-that is still the cry which drowns every voice many times he has been called dog, spat upon, or beaten. less loud, and to which every consideration less involved Our business is with the broadsheet of lies the journal with daily existence must give way. Such a man as Mr in largest circulation through the Union: with the popu- Bryant would scorn to invent a calumny, but he is driven lar print, in whose columns some fifty or a hundred thou- by his party to give circulation to it; and to the universal sand free Americans enjoy the daily freedom of taking law of universal distrust he is obliged, high-spirited and part in the loathsome slander of the most respected of independent as he is, to make himself a slave. Governor their fellow-citizens: with the organ of public opinion, Clinton made no distinction of the peculiar kinds of which stabs at all that is eminent in station, in sex de- party, when, some years since, he told the New York fenceless, or claiming reverence in age: with, in a word, legislature, that, at their last election, party spirit had the convicted libeller of all that is manly and decent in invaded the tranquillity of private life, had violated the sanctity of female character, had visited with severe that country, from the judge on the bench, to the citizen inflictions the peace of families, had spared neither ele vation nor humility, nor the charities of life, nor distinguished public services, nor the fireside, nor the altar. For, in truth, all this we take to be but the maxim of suspect every body in its worst and most licentious form, which, in its more decent, all papers are driven to adopt. Its highest living embodiment is in the infamous New York Herald, which, worthily followed, as we have seen, by others only less infamous than itself, now traverses the length and breadth of America-read by every one, quoted by every one, patronised by the President, in favour with his government, patted gently by the judges rampant, reckless, triumphant, without one restraint to its unbridled villany." in his private home. To describe in any minute detail a publication of this nature, the reader will readily suppose to be something more than difficult; and to succeed in so describing it, would be certainly less than pleasant. It appears (by means, of course, of its evil gains) to have organised throughout the country a very extraordinary and complete system of correspondence, so that, in every chief city of the Union, it has a resident representative. And these are labourers worthy of their hire, being all such reckless libellers of everything decent, and such impudent dealers in everything vile, that the head devil' himself must be often hard put to it to keep his scandalous supremacy. The cue universally is- Spare no one. Thrust yourselves into whatever home you can get, and everywhere leave your slime. In no direction fail to abuse. Let fly at all; the more eminent your game, the more atrocious the falsehood we want; but fly low as well as high, for the praiseworthy thirst of every free citizen to know his neighbour's affairs, extends to the affairs of every other free citizen, without frivolous social distinction. Never think a scandal can be too malignant. It is to furnish bitterness for a hundred thousand tongues, and what would be anything seant or small towards satisfaction of so many ?'" The prosecution of the person who conducts this mass of infamy is of no use; for laws are a dead letter where public feeling is against them; on conviction for libel, a fine is imposed, which he pays, and then the interior, which I took, and was putting my ticket into my pocket, when my friend M. Poulain told me, in the first place, to read it. For the convenience of travellers, it is written in German and French. I found that I had the fourth place in the coach, and that I was forbidden to change places with my neighbour, even with the consent of the latter. This discipline, altogether military, acquainted me, even more than did the jargon of the postilion, that we were about to enter the possessions of his Majesty Frederick William. I embraced M. Poulain, and at the appointed hour we set off. As I had a corner place, the tyranny of his majesty, the king of Prussia, did not appear altogether insupportable; and I must confess that I fell as profoundly asleep as if we had been travelling in the freest country in the world. At about three o'clock, however, that is to say, just at daybreak, I was awakened by the stoppage of the carriage. I thought at first some accident must have happened; that we were either on a bank or in the mud; and put my head out of the window. I was mistaken regarding the accident, nothing of the kind had happened. We were standing alone upon the finest road possible. I took my billet out of my pocket. I read it once more carefully through; and having ascertained that I was not forbidden to address my neighbour, I asked him how long we had been stationary. About twenty minutes,' he said. And may I, without indiscretion,' I rejoined, 'take the liberty to ask why we are stopping?' And if we arrived before the hour?' He would be punished in like manner." Upon my word, the arrangement is satisfactory.' I bowed in token of assent, for I would not for the "At thirty-five minutes past five.' 'But suppose his watch goes slow ?' "Watches never go slow in Prussia.' "Have the goodness to explain that circumstance to me, if you please.' It is very simple.' Let us see?' 'The conductor has before him, in his place, a clock locked up in a case, and that is regulated by the clock at the diligence office. He knows at what hour he ought to arrive at this or that town, and presses or delays his postilions accordingly, so that he may arrive at Aix-laChapelle exactly at thirty-five minutes past five. 'I am sorry to be so exceedingly troublesome, sir; but your politeness is such, that I must venture on one question more." 'Well, sir ?' 'Well, sir, with all these precautions, how happens it that we are forced to wait now ?' It is most probably because the conductor did as you did, fell asleep; and the postilion profited of this, and went quicker." 'Oh, that's it, is it? Well, then, I think I will take advantage of his delay, and get out of the coach.' 'People never get out of the coach in Prussia.' "That's hard, certainly. I wanted to look at yonder castle on your side of the road."" That is the castle of Emmaburg.' 'What was the castle of Emmaburg?' "The place where the nocturnal adventure took place between Eginhard and Emma.' Indeed! will you have the kindness to change places with me, and let me look at the castle from your side ?' 'I would with pleasure, but we are not allowed to change places in Prussia.' "Peste! I had forgotten that,' said I. Ces tiaples de Franzés il être trés pavards,' [What babblers these French are] said, without unclosing his eyes, a fat German who sat gravely in a corner opposite to me, and who had not opened his lips since we left Liege. What was that you said, sir?' said I, turning briskly round towards him, and not over well satisfied with his observation. Che né tis rien ché tors.' [Nothing-it was a mistake.] "You do very well to sleep, sir. But I recommend you not to dream out loud: do you understand me? Or if you do dream, dream in your native language."" NEAPOLITAN SKETCHES. Passing over several clever articles, we arrive at a review of an amusing work on Naples and the Neapolitans, by a German, Dr Karl August Mayer, in which we are presented with some lively pictures of popular manners in the capital of southern Italy. There priests and preaching friars come in for a share of notice corresponding to their great numbers and inone of these gentlemen. fluence. The reviewer quotes a laughable anecdote of Naples, are to be found men who exercise an astonishing "Among the mendicant friars, or street preachers, of influence over the lazzeroni. Of one of them, Rocco, a Dominican, a posthumous fame is preserved for witty sayings and happy allusions, which, if collected, would fill volumes. He was reckless whom he attacked, and often said things which, upon any one less popular, would have |