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    BEAUTIES OF BYRON . ko . an . "CHOSE HABOLD . " We tMnk -we may appropriately introduce the following beautiful stanzas , as bibok ' s sight thoughts . * Tis night , when meditation bids us fed We once liave loved , though lore is at an end : The heart , lone mourner of ite baffled zeal , Though friendless now , will dream it liad a friend . Who with the weight of years would wish to bend , When jouth itself Mirrivts young lore and joy Alas ' , when mingling souls forget to Vlena , Death hath but little left him to destroy ! Ah J happy jears I once more who wonia Jidlte a W ?

    Thus bending o ' er the ressel ' s laving side , To gaze on Dian's wave-reflected sphere , The soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride , And flies unconscious o ' er each backward year . Xone arc so desolate but somelliing- dear , Bearer than self , possesses or possess'd A thought , and claims the homage of a tear ; A flashing pang ! of which the weqry breast "Wonld still , albietin rain , the heavy heart divert * To sit on rocks , to muse o ' er flood and fell . To slowly trace the forest ' s shady scene , Where things that own not man's dominion dwell , And mortal footbath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountains all unseen , "With the wilJ flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o ' er steeps , and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; ' tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms , and riew her stores unroll'd .

    Bat , 'midst the crowd , the hum , the shock of men , To hear , to see , to led , and to possess , And roam along , the world ' s tired denizen , With none who bless us , ' none whom we can bless ; 3 Iinions of splendour shrinking from distress ! Sone that with kindred consciousness endued , It we were not , would seem to smile the less Of all that flatter'd , followed , songht , and sued , Shis is to be alone : this , this is solitude ! 31 ore West the life of godly eremite , Such as on lonely Athos may be seen , Watching at eve upon the giant height ! . Which loots o'er waves so blue , skies so serene , That he who them at such an hour hath been " Will wistful linger oa that luillcnv'J spot , "Then slowly tear him from the Bitching scene , -Sigh iorth one wisl that such had been his lot , Then turn to hate a world he had almost forgot .

    The following stanzas open tlie story of tlie " Ghilde ' s" pilgrimage through Albania : mark how surpassingly beautiful is the first stanza : — Dear Uature is the kindest mother still , Though always changing , iu her aspect mild ; from her bare bosom let me take my fill , Her never-weaned , though not her favour'd child . Oh ! she is fairest iu her features wild , "Where nothing polished dares pollute'her patU : To me by day or night siie ever smiled , Though I have mark'd her when none other hath , And sought her more and more , and loved her best in wrath .

    Land of Albania I where Iskander * rose , Theme of the young , and beacon of the wise , And he his namesake , whose oft-baffled foes Shrunk from his deeds of chivalrous Clliprize : land of Albania if let me bend mine eyes < Ju tuee , thou rugged nurse of savage ' men ! The cross descends , thy minarets arise , And the pale crescent sparkles in the glen , Through many a cypress grove within each city ' s ken . Ckilde Harold saUM and pass'd the barren spot Wiierc sad Penelope o ' erloof d the wave . J And onward view'd the mount , not yet forgot , The lover ' s refuge and the Lesbian's grave . Dark Sappho ! could not verse immortal save That breast imbued with such immortal fire ? Could she not live who life eternal gare ! If life eternal may await tiie lyre , That only Heaven to which Earth ' s children may aspire

    Ilere the red cross , for still the cross is here , Though sadly scoff * d at by the circumcised , Torgets that pride to parauerM priesthood dear ; Churchman and votary alike despised 1 ' oul Superstition ! howsoever disguised Idol , saint , vigin , prophet , crescent , cross , Tor whatsoever symbol tliou art prized , Thon sacerdotal gain , but general loss ! Who from trne worship ' s gold can separate thy dross ! Asibracia ' a gulf behold , where once was lost A world for ireinsa , lovely , harmless thiug I In yonder rippling hay Ihidr naval host Did many 3 ltouian chief and Asian king To dvuhiiiil couilict , certain slaughter bring : j look where tlie second Gcsars trophies rose ! How , like the hands that rear'd them , withering , Imperial aanrclis , doubling liuiuan woes ! Soil . ' was thy glolie ordanAl for such to win and lose ?

    Oh' where Dodona ! is thine aged grove , 1 ' ronhetic fount , and oracle divine ? What ¦ valley echoed ihe response of Jove ? "What trace renjaiuetli of tlie Uiun 3 erer ' s shrine 1 AH , all forgotten—and shall man rapine That fcis fcril bends mi Meeting lifearetivokc ? Cease , fool 2 the fate of gods may well be thine : "Would ' st thou survive the inavble or the oak ? When nations , tongues , and worlds must sink beneath the stroke ! We are compelled to pas 3 by the stanzas , perhaps equally as beautiful as the above , descriptive of Albanian life , and the poet ' s interview with the famous and terrible Ali Pacha , Forthe " beauties" of these juctunsque stanzas , including tho semi-brigand song commencing TumbourgU TamoourgH thy larnm afar Gives hopes to the valiant , and promise of war :

    we must refer tlie reader to the poem itself ; from the notes to \ yliicli they will also glean much interesting information concerning the country of Albania . lixBos was attended by two Albanians for a consideralle time , ac <] , speaking of their fidelity , he says , men "more faithful in peril or indefatigable In service" he never found . When in tlie Morea , in 1 S 10 , tlie poet was seized [ with a dangerous fever , and these two men nursed him "with an attention which would have done honour to civilization . " The one was a Turk { Mahometan ] named Dervish . Tahiri ; the " other an Infidel [ Christian ] named Easilius . The poet thus describes his leave-taking with these attendants ;— ¦

    When , ptcparations -were made for my return , my Albanians were summoned to receive their pay . Basilius took his with an awkward show of regret at my intended departure , anil marched away to his quarters with his lag of piastres . 1 sent for Derrish , but for some tune he was not to he found ; at last lie entered , just as SignorXogotheti , £ ither tc the ci-devant Anglo-consul of Athens , awl some other of my Greek acquaintances , paid me a visit . Derrish took the money , but ou a sudden dashed it to the ground ; and clasping his hands , which lie raised to his forehead , rushed out of the room weeping bitterly . From that moment to the hour of my embarkation , lie continued his lamentations , and all our efforts to console him only produced this answer— - "He leaves me . " Signor Logotheti , who never wept before for anything less than the loss of a para ( about the fourth of a

    ferthing ) , melted ; the padre of the convent , my attendants , inv visitors—and I verily believe that ei-en Sterne ' s " ioolish fct scullion" would have left her "fish-kettle" to sympathise with the unaffected sorrow of this barbarian for my own part , when I remembered that , a short time before my departure from England , a noble and most intimate associate had excused himself from taking leave of me because he had to attend a relation " to a milliner ' s , " 1 felt no less surprised than humiliated by tlie present occurrence and the past recollection . That Dervish would leave me with some regret was to be expected ; when master and man have been scrambling over the mountains of a dozen provinces together , they are unwilling to separate 5 l > ut his present feelings , contrasted with his native ferocity , improved my opinion of the human heart .

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    THE PURGATORY OF SUICIDES , A ? kison Rhtue js Tes Books . By Thomas Cooper , the Chartist . London : J . How , 132 , Fleet-streeK ( Continued from Hie Star of SqtUmher 8 th . ) The following purely poetical and truly beautiful stanzas , forming the exordium to the fourth , book , appear to have been suggested by the singing of a robin ou the window-grating of the poet-prisoner ' s cell : — "Welcome , svrcetRobin !—welcome , cheerful one ! "Why dost thou slight the merry fields of corn , — . The sounds of human joy , —the plenty strown Prom Autumn ' s teeming lap , —and , at gray morn , Ere the sun wakes , sing to the things of scorn And infamy and want and sadness whom Their stronger fellow-criminals have torn From freedom and the gladsome light of home-So aueBdi the noUer spark within , in anngeon'a "loom * TOiy dost thou choose , throughout the live-long day , A prison rampart for thy perch , and sing As thou would ' st rend thy fragile throat ! Away ! My little ficiend , away , upon light wing , Awhile , —beyond this house of suffering ! Away . and I will watch for thy return , — Thinking , meanwhile , how , by the silver spring Mantled with golden lilies , thou dost turn Thy pretty head awry , so meaningly , and yearn ,

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    From out thirt beaming look , to know what thoughts , Within the barb-leaved hart ' s-tongue dwell—The purple eye petalled with snow , that floats So gracefull y : —dost think the damosel , Young Hope , Jdrtled with Chastity , there fell Into ths stream , and grew a flower so fair ? Afc isVill thou linger ' , while I , dreaming , tell Of pleasures I would reap , if free I were , — Like thee , —to breathe sweet Freedom ' s balmy air . Away !—for this is not a clime for thee—Sweet childhood ' s sacred one . ' The hawthorns bend With ruddy fruitage - . tiny troops , with glee Plundering the mellow wealth , a shout will send Aloft , if they hahold their feathered friend , Loved "Robiu Redbreast , " mingle wiih ihcii joy ! Lid tt ey not watch thy tenderlings , and wend With eayer steps , when school was o ' er , a coy And Wistful peep to take—lest some rude rutlian boy ,

    With sacrilegious heart and hand , should rob Thy nest as heathenly as if ' Heaven's bird " "Were not more sacred than the vulgar mob Of pies and crowi ? Plee , —loved one : —thou hast heard This dissonance of bolts and bars that gird Old England ' s modern slaves , until thy seuse Of freedom's music will be sepulchred : — Hie to yon jocund band of innocence , And , 'mid ibeir rapture , pour thy heart ' s mellifluence I Still linger'st thou upon that dreary wall Which bars , so enviously , my view of grove , And stream , and hill , —as if it were death ' s pall ? O leave this tyrant-hold , —and , joyous rove-Loved bird of Home , —bird of our father ' s love , — Where the thatched cottage , clad with late-blown rose , And sweetbriar , and rosemary , thickly wove With the dwarf-vine , its nectared garland shews Unto the amorous bees that ' midst its sweets carouse .

    Hasten , dear Homn!—for the aged dame Calls thee to gather up the honeyed crumb She scatters at her door ; and , at thy uanie , The youngsters crowd to see their favourite cosie . Fear not Grimalkin J—she doth sing " three-thrum , ' With happy half-shut cjes , upon tho warm Soft cushion in the corner-chair : deaf , dumb , And toothless lies old Growler : —fear no havm , — , Loved Robin!—thou shalt banquet hold without alarm Ah ! Chanticleer hath eyed the dainties spread For thee , and summons his pert train the prize To share . Lo ! how the children ask with dread , Of the old grendame with the glazed eyes , " Why Robin does not come % " The pet one cries , Because he sees thee not , —unpacified , Bv'n with the apple tinct with vermeil dyes , The first-born offers with a kiss ! Abide Uot here , expected one , —lest woe the cot betide !

    If thou return not . Gammer o ' er her pail Will sing in sorrow , ' neath the blinded cow , —• And Gaffer sigh over his nut-brown ale , — While evermore the petlings , with sad brow , Will look for thee upon the holly bough—Where thou didst chirp thy signal note , ere on The lowly grunsel thou didst light , and shew , With such sweet confidence , —thou darling one !—Thy Mythesomc face , —and , on thee , all cried "benisou !' The thought strikes the poet that the robin has abjured his former haunts because the happiness which once existed there , exists no longer : —

    Alas ! I mind me why thou linger'st here : — My country ' s happy cottages abound No longer J—where they stood and smiled , uprear The " Bastile" and the gaol!—and thou hast found Such refuge , Robin , as—upon the ground Where Alfred reigned , andllampdeu fought aud bled—Where Milton sung , and Latitncr was crowned With glorious martyrdom—is portioned Unto our fathers' sons—who win with tears their bread . Bread!—nay , devour with greed the grovelling root , As recompense of labour for their lords;—Or , spurned , when begging to have , like the brute , Fodder for toil , and coerced into hordes Of miduight spoilers—swell the black iccortla Of cruelty and crime . " This dear , dear land " Is dear no longer : its great name affords Thoughts hut for curses ! Aye , where the brave baud Sacg in the flames—lit by tlie brood of HUuebrsmil;—•

    Where strode the iron men of Runnymede , And quelled the tyrant;—where Hypocrisy And Lawlessness , though sprung of royal seed . And sceptred , paid stem forfeit by decree Of broad-day justice unto Liberty;—Where noblest deeds were done ; upon this isle —« " This precious stone set in the silver sea , " Men talk of England as of something vile ; And wish they could forget her , In some far esile I The cottage b ;; bes are mourning , did I say , For that the threshold their loved visitant Presented not ? Alas , poor bird ! Thy lay And all its sweetness is forgot : their want 0 / bread hath banished thoughts of Iiobin's cliaunt : The children plenty know no more ; and Love And Gentleness Lave fled from Hunger's haunt : — Fled is all worship for fair tilings that rove Among fair flowers—worship in young hearts sweetly wove .

    Fair Nature charms not : fellowship with song And beauty—germs from which grow , for the good Reverence , and for the frail—though wrong-Pity and tenderness;—all these , the rude Chill breath of AVant hath stilled in the bud ; And beggar quarrels for their ssauty crust Uow fill the bosoms of the lean , dwarfed brood , The peasant father—sprung from sires robust—Beholds at home , and Irishes he were laid in dust ! Ah ! darling Robin—thou wilt soon behold Ko homes for poos men on old England ' s shore : — So homes but the vile gaol , or viler fold Reared by new rule to herd tho " surplus poor "Wise rule which unto Pauperism ' s foul care—The rich man ' s purse-plague ' s core—shall penetrate : Paupers shall multiply their race no more Ex-apt Jftcy lite In palaces . ' Dobate Upon the rule they may : but—the slaves bear their fate

    Slaves—abjtct , bloodless , soulless , sneaking slaves !—Your fetters are perfected , now ! Tug , strain , Toil , sweat , and starve , and die!—For , whoso raves For larger pittance from his lords humane—Or , malcontent , dares from hard toil refrain-He shall be Sastiled ! Ills wise lords say well—Such grumbling slaves might nurture bold disdain lu their serf-offspring : better 'tis to quell , At once , andj in the germ , creatures that might rebel ! Cowards—why did ye suffer knaves to forge These eunuch-fetters—and to bind them on Your limbs!— Beshre w this rising in my gorge To think that others ' neath their fetters groan , And do not break them !—Wear I not my own ? Aye—and must wear them , while my tyrants choose . "Well : let me bide my time ; andj then , atono Tor lliat real crime—the failing to arouse Slaves against tyrants : —I may—yet—before life ' s close

    In this book ( which is much superior to the second and third ) we are introduced to Chattektox , Sappno , and Luceeiius . Of the first of these 1 YC ni'C told-A stately burthen , couched in antique tongue And magic rhyme , unto his mystic shell With tuneful voice , the unseen minstrel song . But , suddenly , his lofty harpings fell To dirge-like melody—for smit by spell Of memory , the bard his fated toil On earth—his breath of hope hushed by the knell Of early death , sung sadly . Dull recoil His harp seized , next—as if it shrunk from overtoil .

    The sorrow-broken songster , soon , to wake Its chords in wailful cavatioa strove : — lie sung of the proud , slighted bosom ' s aclie—Of soul-consuming fires more fierce than love Or jealousy—of restless hopes that move Their young possessor to aspirings wild—Of disappointment ' s gall when frowns disprove His smiling day-dreams—till the draught defiled—The deathly chalice—tempts the scorn-stung Poet-child ! Sobbings , that heaved as they would renil the heart , Succeeded—and the lyre was dumb ! Then passed The shade of fated Chatterton athwart My path—sad , mournful , slow , with eyes downcast , And visage ye might emblem by a waste Of over-prurience , or tropic field Where luscious fruitage springing thick and fast Expires of hasty ripeness , ere can yield T » th . ' taste its sweets , or their rich value he revealed . —

    The picture of Sappho is beautiful : — A monumental form , that meekly glowed . With softest radiance , sadly o'er an urn Sepulchral , ' neath a lofty cypress , boned , Midway , along this sombrous pathway . Lorn It droop'd , and , voiceless , seemed to tell , "I mourn With more than mortal grief ; " jet , was such grace Celestial by that drooping statue worn , That one desired for ever in that place To stay and gaze upon its spiritual face . Enwrapt to ecstasy , I gazed till life Began to fill its breast , and passion shone Through its unmarbled eyes ! Death a vain strife Essayed , with chilly grasp around her zone , To hold in sculptured grief that ardent one . Lo ! high immortal Love breathed vital power On her fan : limbo—and , with a gentle moan , She raised her head—a . monument no more Of Borrow—but , for love , a peerless cynosure !

    Her islet shell the burning Lesbian took From sad repose upon the urn that feigned To hold the image of her grief , and strook The matchless chords as one who pain disdained ; Then , proudly , though with tears , she thus complained Of slighted tenderness—vowing to feed Her fruitless flame till , spirit disenchained From torture , her deep constancy its meed Should find in some West state for souls by gods decreed . Fhaon ! beloved , unloving Phaon ! thee The maid enamoured hymns—by pain unchanged In Hades , as by scorn on earth : on me Let angry Jove , the Torturer , be avenged .

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    For slighted life , and order disarranged Of his stern government : woe shall not wrest Thy imago from its throne : never estranged Shall be her love from Sappho ' s faithful breast : She can love on—unloved , despised , ache-doomed , uu blest ! * # * # Fidelity to Nature ' s impulses Shall bring , at length , ineffable reward : They who , all unsubdued , ' gainst miseries Of human scorn and death and woe have warred Shall meet their guerdon : droam 9 of gifted bard And visions of gray seer shall be fulfilled : Torture that long the universe hath marred , Shall end : of Love and Hate the combat wild Shall cease : the discords of tlio soul for aye be stilled .

    it canuot be that with the Beautiful Deformity shall ever , envious , blend : Iferoy divine , shall demon Wrath annul , Love conquer Hate—and glorious Goodness bend Her iris over life till it transcend The power of Evil , and auuihik ' te Its stiugfoi ever!— Ardent Lesbian , end Thy dreams—nor dare Futurity and Fate To fix , by thy fond wish , in fancied happy state!—Thus broke upon mv spirit aoeouts stevn ,

    Haughty , abrupt;—and , forthwith , stood beside Sappho ' s soft form a spirit eold and dern Of aspect , but whose stately , seemly pride Outspoke the tuneful Rumau suicide Who wooed tho IIuse to leave her wonted hill , And tread the plain with philosophic sti-ide— f And , slighting toys , with manly themes to fill The soul—of its own Liberty , Fate , Good , and 111 . For the dialogue between the Lesbian poetess and the Roman philosopher , we must refer the reader to the poem .

    In the "Notes" to this boolc the poet tluis speaks of Sappho : — Ancient and modern critics without number—Lojiginus , Dionvsiut of Halicarnassus , Horace himself , Yossius , Hoffman , Addison , &c . &C ., have paid the hig hest tribute to the poetical excellence of the fair suicide of Lesbos ; but , perhaps , a more finished and eloquent eulogy on her lyric worth is not to be found in the compass of a few werds , than the following extract from the Oth vol . of the Encyclopedia Jfetropolitana : — " Thero are few intellectual treasures , the loss of which is more deeply to be regretted than that of the works of this poetess ; for the remnants which have reached us

    certainly display genius of the highest order ; they are rich even to exuberance , and yet directed by the most exquisite taste . In these most delicious of love-songs the tide of passion seems Jeep and e . xliaustless ; it flows rapidly yet gently on , while the most sparkling fancy is ever playing over it ; and the words themselves seem to participate ia the sentiments winch they develope . It is a mistake to imagine that the fragments of Sappho arc nothing more than the eloquent expressions of amatory feeling ; they are really verses of high imagination , which renders them as beautiful as they are intense , and , in the opinion of some writers , raises them even to the sublime . "

    ( To U Continued . ) TIIE WANDERING JEW . By Euobxh Sue . People ' s Edition . Part I . London : Clark , Warwick-lane , Paternostcr-roWi We have not before noticed this clever and universally popular romance ; it is therefore necessary that in introducing Mr . Clark ' s edition to our readers we should make a few explanatory remarks as to the plot of the story , and the principal Devsonagcs who h ' gure therein . . " TJic title of the work appears to have been given to it almost solely for the purpose of effect , for the famous , though fabulous Juif Errant has really but little to do with the story . " Tho Jesuits Unmasked" would have been a more appropriate title ,

    for the whole story turns upon the intrigues of the Perc d'Amgrigny and the Ptn Rodin of the society of the Jesuits , to deprive the rightful heirs of one Jaqim ifcnnepont of property to the amount of 240 millions of francs ( about ten millions sterling ) , which they ave entitled to divide amongst them , with all its accumulations , one hundred and fifty years after his death . The Jesuit intriguers are represented in the story to have induced one of the heirs of the Renuepout family , Gabriel Renncponthy name , to become a priest and a member of the order of the Jesuits , and to abandon all his rights in the inheritance to ills

    order . The objects therefore of the Jesuit conspimtorsare to get Gabriel Reuncpont to the place where the inheritance is to be surrendered to the representatives of the family , and thus , through him . to obtain it for themselves , and to keep ail the other members of the family absent from Paris until after the division of the property . To effect this latter object , these priestly conspirators are described in the story as having recourse to all manner of fraud ,, falsehood , and intrigue ; hesitating not to commit ahveities , at the recital of which the hair of the reader ' s head almost stauds on . end , " like quills upon the fretful porcupine . "

    The first of the heirs , or rather heiresses of the house of itoancpont introduced to the reader , are two young girls named Hose and Blanche Simon , the daughters of a Bonapartist Field-Marshal Simon , who , soon after the close of the last war , had married the daughter of a French refugee , belonging to the family of Rennepont , at Warsaw , and who almost immediately after the marriage had been banished from Poland , owing to the intrigues of the Jesuits . On his return to France , having , become involved in a military conspiracy , he is obliged again to fly , and proceeds to India , where he heads the natives , and gains several victories over the English—romance victories , of course ! Iu India hu becomes acquainted with a certain Prince Djalma ,

    the son of a native prince by a French lady , also one of the heirs of the ltennepont family . Marshal Simon ' s still mere unfortunate wife had been sent to Siberia , where she gives birth to two daughters , Msc and Blanche . These children , at her death , she leaves to the care of an okl French soldier , a follower of Marshal Simon , named Francis Jiaudoin . This veteran of the Empire ( who bears the nickname of Dagobert ) , is first introduced to the reader at a coantry inn , near Lcipsie , where lie amvea late in the evening , with Jlosc and Blanche , both mounted on his faithful steed , and is accompanied by his faithful dog . There he has the misfortune to fall in with an emisiavy of the Jesuits , sent tor tlie express purpose of stopping his course , in the person of Morok , a religious impostor , aud tan \ er of wild beasts , who is travelling about the country , exhibiting his . lions , Cain and Judas , and bis black panther of Java , bearing the terrible name of " La Mori" ( Death ) .

    By this miscreant Morok , poor Dagoberl ' s horse is destroyed , the poor creature being torn to pieces by " La Mort . " The recital of the poor animal ' s death is painfully horrible . Dagobert is further robbed of his passport , and he is at last delvvwadintotlwi hands of justice , on a charge of assault and vagabondism , Fortunately , however , Dagobert escapea , and after a variety of adventures , reaches Hamburgh , where he embarks in a steamer with Rose and Blanche . In a terrible storm the steamer is wrecked on the coast of France , but the three escape tbe destructive sea , and take refuge in the chateau of Mademoiselle de Cardo . ville , another heiress of the family of Ilennepont , just as the Rev . Father liodin , the most finished miscreant of the whole Jesuit confraternity , is on a visit there . By him the Pere d'Aingrigny is informed of the landing of Rose and Blanche—Haying said thus much explanatory of some of the leading characters—others we shall speak of at a future timewe give the following extract : —

    TUB DESPATCHES . * Morok , the brute-tamer , having deprived Dagobert of his horse , and rofobea him of his papers and money , concluded he would be unable to continue his journey . lie had accordingly , previous to the arrival of the burgomaster , sent Karl to Leipsic with a letter , which he was ordered to carry to the post-office immediately . The address of this letter ran thus : — " MoKSuea Robin , "Rue duMilieu des tTrsins , " Paris . " About the middle of this retired and little known Street , titnatcd below the luvel of the Quai Napoleon , on which it opens not far from the Hue St . Landry , there stood at that time a house of modest appearance , built at the farther end of a gloomy court yard , separated from the street by a small building , forming a kind of facade , having an arched doorway and two casement windows protected by thick iron bars .

    The interior of this quiet dwelling waB of the simphest description , as will he evident from a description of the furniture of a large room on the ground floor of the principal building . Old grey wainscotting covered the walls ; the tile-paved flooring was painted red , then waxefl , and carefully polished ; and white calico curtains were suspended before tbe windows . A globe , about four feet in diameter , mounted on a pedestal of massive oak , stood at one end of the room , opposite the fire place . On this large glolie might be seen very many small red crosses scattered over all the quarters of the world ; from tlie north to the south , from the east to the west ; from the most savage regions and distant isles , to the most Civilised countries , including France itself : there was no land , in short , which had not places marked with these

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    httlo red crosses , evidently serving as si gn * of indication , or poinu of reference . Before a table of black wood , crowded with papers , with its back to the wall near th « fire , stood an empty chair ; further on , between two windows , was » large nulnuCU'ee bureau , surmounted fey shelves bearing pasteboard boxes . Towards the end of the mouth of October , 1835 , about eight xii the morning , a man sat writing at this bureau , lhat man was II . Bodin , the correspondent of MoroV , the brute-tainer . He was fifty years of age , and wore ail old threadbare olive great coat , with a greasy collar ; & cotton pocUet-liundta rchiefserved him as a cravat , and his trousers and waistcoat of black cloth had long since lost every particle of nap : his feet , shod with large greased shoes , rested on a small square piece of green carpet

    placed on tho red and shining floor . His gi'ey hair combed flat and straight ovce the temples , crowned his bald brow . His eyebrows were scarcely perceptible , and the upper eyelids , limp aud falling like the membrane which half veils the eyes of reptiles , almost concealed his small , bri ght black eyes . His thin and colourless lips worn not distinguishable with the pale complexion of lus lean visajje , sharp nose , aud pointed chin . This livid and almost lipless face had a still more strange appearance from its sepulchral immobility ; but for the rapid movement of M . llodin ' s lingers , as , leaning over the bureau , lie scribbled away wlik hispea . ti * might have been taken for a corp 3 e . With the aid of a cypher ( or secret alphabet ) he transcribed in such a manner that they would be unintelligible to any one not possessing the key , some pasages from a long written paper .

    . V . , "P k'"sant spectacle to behold tbatman , with his rigid ,, frozeu" features , writing , in mysterious characters , m Hie dead silence of a dull aud gloomy day , which increased the cheerless look of that cold and naked room . The clock struck eight . The knocker of tbe outer gate fell heavily , a bell rung twice , several doors opened aud shut , and a second person entered tbe apartment . if . Rodin rose on his entrance , still holding the pen between his lingers . He bowed with profound humility , then resumed his task without saving a word Mr . liodin , the stranger ' s secretary , continued writing . " Have you finished tbe examination of the foreign correspondence ? " inquired Rodin's master . ¦ - " Here is the abstract . "

    " Have the letters always reached the required addresses in envelopes , aud been afterwards brought here according to my directions ?" "Always . " " Ke ' aa your abstract to me ; if there are any I ought to answer myself , I will tell you . " And llodin ' s master began to pace theroom with his hands crossed belaud him dictating remarks , which the secretary carefully noted down . The secretary took a voluminous draft , and thus began : — "Don Ramon Olivarez acknowledges from Cadiz the receipt of letter No . 19 ; he will observe what it enjoins , and will deny all participation in tho eloperaent . " "Nothing to file 2 " "Count Komanofde Riga is in a state of pecuniary embarrassment . "

    " Tell Duplessis to send him a remittance of fifty louis . I once served as a captain in tlie Count ' s regiment ; helms since given excellent information . " " Tlie first parcel of the History of France , expurgated for the use of believers , has been received at Philadelphia j and these being sold , there is a demand for move . " " Jfake a memorandum , and write to Duplessis . Go on . " "li . Sp ' mdbir semis from Nanrar the secret report con . aernlng SI . Ardouin , " , ' " Make an abstract of it . " " Doctor Van Ostadit , from the same town , sends a confidential note respecting Messrs . Spindler and Ardouin . " ' "Comparethem . Goon . " " Count JlfolipiGri'i , of Turin , sends word that the donation of 300 , 000 francs is signed . " " Inform Duplessis of that . Well ?"

    " Don Stanislaus has started for tlie baths of Baden with Queen Maria Ernestine . He says her Majesty will receive uitli gratitude the information , and reply to it with her own hand . " "Take anote of that , I will write to the Queen myself . " While liodin made a few notes on the margin of the paper lvJiioli lie held , his master , ia iho course of his promenade through the length and breadtli of tlie chamber , drew near the globe marked with small red crosses . lie surveyed it thoughtfully for a moment . Rodin went on : —" Oiving to the state of mind prevalent in some parts of Italy , lather Orsini writes from Milan , where some agitators ave turning their eyes towards Prance , it would be useful to circulate widely through the country a little book calumniating the French , our countrymen , as impious and debavmclied plunderers , and blood-sheddevs . "

    " Tlie idea is capital . ' It would be easy to dvess up cleverly the excesses wo committed in Italy during ' the wars of tho republic . Wemustgivo the task of writing this book to Jacques Dumoulin ; that man is full of bile , gall , and venom—the pamphlet will bo terrible . I will furnish some hints to him , but Jacques Dumoulin must not bepaid till 2 ie lias delivered the manuscript . " " To he suvenat . Pay him beforehand , and he will Toe dead drunk for a week , in some vile haunt or other . Owing to that , you wore obliged to pay him twice for his virulent tract against the pantheistical tendency of Professor Martin's philosophical system , " 11 Make a note , aud proceed . " " Tho merchant sends word that tho clerk is about toreake the banker render his accounts to the person who by right " Uttering these words with strong emphasis , liodin said to liis master— - "Do you understand V

    " Perfectly , " said the other , with a shudder ; " they are the expressions agreed on . Proceed . " "But the clerk , " resumed the secretary , " is restrained by a last scruple . " After a moment ' s silence , during which his eotmtcnanco contracted painfully , Rodin ' s master resumed : — " Continue to act on the clerk ' s imagination by silence and solitude ; then make him read again the list of eases of absolved and authorised regicides . Go on . " " During three years , two servant girls of Atnbvosius , who was sent to the little parish iu the mountains of the Valais , have disappeared and never been heard of . A third has just shared the same fate . The protestants of the district begin to whisper ; they talk of murder , attended with horrible circumstances . " "Let Ambrosius be defended against the infamous calumnies of a party that never scruples to adopt the most monstrous surmises , until there be complete and evident proof of liis guilt . Go on . "

    " Thompson , of Liverpool , has secured for Justin the place of steward to Lord Stewart , a rich Irish catholic , whose intellect is daily growing weaker . " " When this fact is proven , send Thompson fifty louis as a gratuity . HaUe a note for Dupleasis , and go on . " 11 The Cardinal Prince Almafi will conform to tlie first three points of the memorial , He wishes to make some reservations on the fourth . " "No reservations—full and absolute assent . If not , war—and , observe particularly , desperate wai—no pity for himself nor for his creatures , Go on , " "l ' r . i Paolo announces that the patriot Boccari , the head of a very extensive secret society , in despair at finding his friends accuse him of treason , in consequence of suspicion instilled into their minds byPra Paolo , has committed suicide . " "Loecai-H Is it possible ? Boccari J Hie patriot Boccari ! That eminently dangerous foe ! " cried Rodin ' s master .

    "The patriot Boccari , " repeated the imperturbable secretary . " Tell Duplcssis to send an order- to Pva Paolo for twenty-five louis . Make a note of that , " " Ilausmann announces that the French danseuse Albertine Ducomet , ib the mistress of the reigningprince : she has an absolute influence over him : by her instrumentality the proposed design might be effected ; but , in her turn , Albertine is devotedly under the influence of her lover , who is condemned for forgery in Trance , and she does nothing without consulting him . " "Desire Ilausinanu to communicate with this man , and if his demands arc reasonable , let them be complied with ; let Jiim inform himself also whether this girl has any relatives in Paris . " «< The Due d'Orbano sends word that the king , his master . will authoriso the proposed establishment , but on conditions already notified . "

    ' < No conditions , positiveadherence or positive refusal ! That is the way to know friends from foes . The more untoward circumstances appear , the more necessary it is to show firmness and self-reliance . " "lie also wiites that all the diplomatic corps support the father of the Protestant girl , who will not leave the convent in which she has taken refuge , unless it be to marry her lover , to whom her father objects . " " So the diplomatic body perseveres in claiming her in the name of the father V " Yes , they persevere , " "Then continue to roply , that the spiritual power has nothing in common with tlie temporal power . " At this moment two loud knocks were heard at the door .

    " See who it is , " said llodin ' s master . Kodin rose and went out . His master continued to pace the room pensively . His steps having again led him . near the enormous globe , he paused . Por some time he contemplated , in profound silence , the numerous little crosses which seemed to cover all the countries of the earth like the mesli ^ a o £ an . immerae net . ^ Reflecting , flOUbfleSS , ( Ml tlie invisible action of his power ,, which seemed to pervade the world , that man ' s features grew animated : his large grey eye dilated and glistened ; his nostrils expanded , and his

    masculine countenance took an incredible expression of energy and audacity , with » lofty brow and disdainful Up he drew near tho globf , and placed his viporons hand on the pole . Prom his powerful grasp and imperious movement , itsecmed as iC this man thought he ruled tht globe he looked down on , and upon which , he placed his hand with such haughty , such daring mastery . But he did not smiltt . His large brow became fearfully knit , and his look threatening ; aiiartistwisltfngtopaiutthedeinon of pride mid tyranny , could not have chosen a inoro fearful model . When Rodin re-entered , liis master ' s countcaance had resumed its usual expression .

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    " He was Lockkd Up . " —Who was locked up ? - ^ - jvlmtwas the culprit ' s sin against society ? What iniquity had he—" a poor sickly bov , aqo ut fifteen years oi ago "—committed , that tiic awful Mr . Combe , sitting zn his magisterial chair at Clerkenwell , should punish the prisoner ( who had not 2 s . 6 d . to > pay a line ) with haul captivity ! " What ( nshs the moralist ) was his evil-doing ? " " Listen , and sigh orer tins wickedness of humanity . 'Die " sickly boy" had obstructed " the foot-path and carriage-way fa Chapel-street . St . Pancras , with his basket of fruits

    for sale ! " The audacious malefactor , " with tcava in Ins eyes , said lie had no other way to live ; " and the offeiidiii ! , ' , destitute wretch was ' therefore—locked up!—Punch . The Smallest Improvement thankfully Receivkiv —The dil-Heulty , it seems , with railways is to invent a whistle that shall give intimation to another train , of approaching danger . We arc sure .. the publicwould be too grateful for any improvement ol tho kind , especially as they now find that , if they ioset their lives on a pleasure excursion , it is paying rather too dearly for their- whistle . —Ibid .

    THE AKDOVEB W&R-80 SQ . [ "They ( the adherents , or tail , of the Chairman of the Aiidover Union Board ) talto up the case in the spirit of partizunship : the Chairman is their leader , suit ) their warcry is 'We wunt be beat ! "Wo mint bo beat ""—» IlejioH in Times . Wq wunt be beat I We wuntbe ' oeati Don ' c talk to we—for we wunt sec't—Talk to a pooast , or a log , Goo argify wi'hos or liog . \ ic be resolved ouv side shall win , Vor which we'll goo drouth thick and thin , What do we care what paupers eat 1 IVe wunt be beat ; We wunt bo beat !

    We wunt be beat i »' e wunt be beat . ' W ' a wunt be pj-aehed to , we repent ; We don ' t care wliat tlie truth may be , 'Xis all the one , vor that , to we . What we ' ve made up our minds to do , That zame we manes to carry drough : You may as well a mulu entreat ; We wunt be beat ! We wunt be beat . ' We wunt be beat ! We wunt be beat . ' On we will goo , and wunt retreat . No ; by our Chairman we will stand , 'Gin all tlio rasoii in the land . We've got no ears for paupers ' groans , What zignitics their knawun' bones % What matters what be Workus meat ! We wunt be beat ! We wunt be beat !—Ibid .

    Fcxcirs Political Dictioxahy . —Allotment System —the practice of allotting little bits of ground to agricultural labourers to diminish their grounds of complaint , and by employing them on small plots of earth preventing them from entering on plots of a more dangerous character . The system is said to have worked well , anil ihe } abourers have worked well , wherever it has been adopted . Ambassadora sort of ticket-porter , by whom messages and pareels are carefully delivered from one sovereign to another . An ambassador must furnish his country men with passports and protection ; so that he Is not only a porter , hut a policeman as well , for he must

    defend those who apply to him for assistance , and enable them to " move on" when travelling . Au ambassador is called " his Excellence , " though he may excel in nothing but short whist and diplomatic cunning . An ambassador is free from all process , so that , after dealing with tradesmen to a large extent , lie may cut , or play any other odd trick that a Jackin-office , if he happens to be a lcnave , would disgrace himself by practising . Amendment—a word roillCtimes applied to the tinkering of an Act of Parliament . It is called amendment from the Greek a , which signifies not ; and mendment , which is the old Saxon term for mending .

    Spirited Pkoceedisg at Cologxe . —Her Majesty , with that liberality to foreigners for which she , is unfortunately so distinguished , " presented the above city with « f 500 towards the works of the cathedral . A meeting was got up in order to refuse the royal bounty , and request her Majesty to give it to the poor Irish , or to the Anglican church ; but those finger-ends of office—the police—dispersed the meeting , before any resolution had been come to . Wo arer glad it ended so . Had these gentlemen passed their ' humane resolve , tlicy would have had the bitterness of disappointment for their labour . Her Majesty—God bless her!—when an Englishman or Irishman , is concerned , would rather take than give . —Ibid .

    On Dear Me . —It has been privately reported that a certain great personage , since the mighty fuss some goths have kicked up about tho slaughter of game at Uotha , has lamented that she had not been at home in the royal nursery listening to her dears tallin ? , instead of being present at the deer-stalkhig abroad . —Ibid . A Oiiurciiwakden's Mistake . — -A large farmer , who is churchwarden of a parish near Aylesbury , recently received by liis carrier a bottle of spirits , and some letters and parcels , one of which was a list of voters to be stuck on the Church door . On Sunday morning the congregation were amused and surprise ! to find on the Church door a bill to the following effect : — Mr .. Bought of Henry Gulliver , 2 gallons best brand ) ' 30 s £ 3 Paid same time . Please return the bottle .

    In the afternoon the list of voters covered thiscurious notice . SffKAUixo . Books . —Flaw Extraordinary . —At the Ennistymon petty sessions on Monday , Michael Droucy , gamekeeper to Major Macnamava , summoned two men lor hunting and killing a hare withtwo greyhounds and a beag c , on the 13 th of August . Tlie case having been proved against them a dismissal , was called for , on the ground that the information was not sworn on the Holy Evangelists , but on a l ' rotostant prayer book . The swearing-book ( which was stated to be tUe same used for the last thirteen years ) was examined , and declared not to contain the Holy Evangelists , aud the court therefore dismissed the case , [ Olose inspection would often detect similar MormuiitLcs ia English Courts . ]

    Johnny DAitBYSiimE , a Primitive Quakeu . —Oh his way to his regular meeting he had to pass through , a toll-bar ; and being on Sundays exempt by lavr from paying at it , it may be supposed that the bar--keeper did not llhig open the gate often with the best grace . One Sunday evening , however , Johnny Darbrshire had , from some cause or other , stayed late with his friends after afternoon meeting . When he passed through the toll-gate he gave his usual nod to the keeper , and was passing on ; but the man called out to demand the toll , declaring that it was n » longer Sunday night , but Monday morning , being past twelve o'clock . ' Nay , friend , thou art wrong , " said Johnny , pulling out his watch : " see , it yet wants a quavtov . " — " No , I tell you , " replied tlie

    keeper , gruffly , "it is past twelve . Look , there is my clock . "— ' Ay , friend , but thy clock like thrseli * doesn't speak the truth . Like its master , it is a little too hasty . I assure thee my watch is right , for I just now compared it by the steeple-house clock ia the town . "— " I tell you , " replied the keeper , angrily , " I ' ve nothing to do with your watch : I go by my clock , and there it is . "— " Well , I think thou arttoo exact with me , my friend . "— " Will you pay me or not V roared the keeper ; "you go through , of tea enough in the devil ' s name without paying . "" Gently , gently , my friend , " replied Johnny ; 1 ' there is the money : and its really after twelve o'clock thou sayst ?"— "To be sure . "— " Well , very well then for the next twentv-four hours I can go through

    again without paying ?"— "lo bo sure ^ everybody knows that . "— " Very well , then I now bid thee farewell . " And with that , Johnny Darbyshiret jogged on . The gate-keeper , chuckling at having afc last extorted a double toll from the shrewd Quaker * went to bed , not , on that quiet road , expecting further disturbance till towards daylight ; but , just as he was about to pop into bed , he heard some one ride up and cry , "Gate ! " Internally cursing the late traveller ,, he threw on his things and descended to open the gate , when he was astonished to see the Quaker returned . " Thou sayst it really is pasfc twelve , friend ?"— " To be sure . "— " Then open the gate : I have occasion to ride back again . " —Tha gate flew open , Johnny Darbyshire trotted back , towards the town , and the man , with double curses in his mind , returned up stairs . This time he was

    not so sure of . exemption from interruption , for he expected the Quaker would in a while be coming back homewards again . And he was quite right . Just as he was about to pat out his candle , there was a cry of " Gate . " lie descended , and behold the ( Jua lcer once more presented himself . — " It really Et past twelve , thou sayst ?"— " Umph V * grunted tho fellow . — " Then , of course , I have nothing more to pay . I would not , however , advise thee to go to bed to-night , for it is so particularly line that I propose to enjoy it by riding to and fro here a tew hours . 'The fellow , ' who now saw Johnny Darbyalnre ' s full drift , exclaimed , " Here , for God s sake , sir , take your money back , and let me get a wiuk of sleep . "But Johnny refused to receive the money , observing , " if it was after twelve , then the money is justly thine ; but I advise thee another time not to bo too exact , " and with that he lode off . —flcfinfoivaJi Talcs .

    DaxBeat at Last . —Ihe Irish papers are all immortalizing a most wost wonderful kitten , which , surpassing Mr . O'Connell himself , has been born , afc a place called Hose Oarberry , with "twotails , " while the Liberator , so far , has only whimd . we .

    F Oetrp*

    f oetrp *

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    * Islander is the Turkish word for Alexander , i Albania comprises part of Macefienkjmyr iajChaoma , and £ ( iirus . t Ithaca . I The battle of Astiuffit

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    * Lucretius . I "In reading the rules of the order of tlie Jesuits , under the title 'De Formula Scribendi' ( Institut . ii ., M ., p . 125 . 129 , the development of the eighth part of the Cor , , stitutions ) , we are astonished at the number of letters , relations , registers , ana -rcritinss of all kinds preserved in the arcnives of the Society . "A system of police , much more exact and better iufonned than that of any government , is here brought to light . The Venetian Government itself was surpassed by the Jesuits . 'When that state expelled them in 1000 , it seized their papers , and censured their extreme and

    intolerable curiosity . Their police system ( that secret lnqvusition ) , carried to such a degree of perfection , explains the power of a body so well-informed , so persevering in i * projects , so powerful through unity , and ( as the Constitutions themselves express it ) the union of its members . It is easy to sec , also , what immense ascendancy the governtnentof this society acquired ; and how truly tlio General of the Jesuits was enabled to say to the Duke of Brissac : ' Prom this chamber , sir , 1 govern not only Paris , but China , not only China , but tt \ e wh «\« wvli i « , v ioes twj one know how it is done . ' "—Constitutions of the Jesuits , with the declarations . latin Text , from the Prague Edit ., p . 47 Gto 478 . Paris , 1834 .

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    TXlT'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE -Ooiodeb . Edinburgh : Tait . London : Simpkin aud Marshall . The opening article of this month ' s number of Tait is on the " Present State of Politics , " from the penot J . A . Roebuck , M . P . This article will , no doubt , claim tho attention of our Whig Radical contemporaries , and may possibly elicit their praises . For ourselves the subject lias ' no interest , and only the curiosity to iviiow what the honouvable and waspish member for Bath would be saying now , could have prompted us to read a page of his dissertation . His comment on the ministerial doings of the Whigs during their reign from 1 S 32 to 1 S 41 is an ott-told talc , ami from sheer repetition has become flat , weary , stale , and unprofitable . " ' ¦ His

    estimation ot Teel and his position is , however , on the whole , lair and correct . " Monastic Studies , Jests , and Eccentricities , " is an interesting review of a work lately produced by the Rev . S . R . Maitlaso , on " Ihe State of Religion and Literature in the ninth , tenth , eleventh , and twelfth centuries . " _ " The Picture Collector , " by Putek Paul Palette , is a capital article , intended as a companion to tlie clever sketch of the ^ l'icturo-rffafej ' , which appeared in this magazine , from the same hand , some time ago ; a more racy and amusing article wo have not read for a long time . Next we have a gossiping sketch of Derbyshire's famed watering place , " Buxton . " Thon follows " Job Svkca ' s Stow . " bv

    that excellent sporting writer John Mills . The annual " Feast of the Poets" appears in this months number , and to our mind is inferior to most of the preceding "Feasts . " Scottish Peasant Life , the Birth of William the Conqueror , and the Invincible Armada , arc the three best pieces in the present " Feast . " The Ekglish Opium Eateb contributes an article on " The Temperance Movement of Modern Times ; " and a most singular and interesting article it is . No tee-totaller should neglect to read this curious article , and , indeed , all men , whether water-drinkers or otherwise , may glean most valuable information from the experiences and reminiscences of the English Opium Eater . We give the

    following extracts : — IKDIGESTIOtf . Past counting are the victims of alcohol , that , having by vast efforts emancipated themselves for a season , are violently forced into relapsing by the nervous irritations of demoniac cookery . Unhappily for them , the horrors of indigestion are relieved for the moment , however ultimately strengthened , by strong liquors ; the relief is immediate , and cannot fail to be perceived ; but the aggravation , being removed to a distance , is not always referred to its proper cause . This is the capital rock and stumbling-block in the path of him who is hurrying back to the ciimps of temperance ; and many a reader is likely to misapprehend the case through thtt habit he has acquired of supposing indigestion to lurk chiefly amongst luxurious dishes . But , on tlio contrary , it is amongst the

    plainest , simplest , and commonest dishes that such misery lurka , in England . Let us glance at three articles ol" diet , beyond all comparison of most ordinary occurrence , viz ., potatoes , bread , and butcher ' s meat . Tho art of preparing potatoes for human use is utterly unknown , except in certain provinces of , our empire , and amongst certain sections of the labouring class . In our great cities—London , Edinburgh , &c . —tlie sort of tilings which you see offered at table undor the uame and reputation of potatoes , arc such that , if you could suppose tlie company to be composed of Centaurs and Lapitluc , or any other quarrelsome people , it would become necessary for the police to interfere . The potato of cities is a very dangerous missile ; awl , if thrown with an accurate aim by an angry hand , will fracture any known skull . In volume and consistency it is very like a paving-stone ; only that ,

    I should say , the paving-stone had the advantage in point of tenderness . And upon this horrid basis , which youthful ostriches would repent of sivalloWng , the trembling , palpitating invalid , fresh from tlie scourging of alcohol , is requested to build t ) icsuperstructure at'liis dinner . The proverb says that three flittings are as bad as a fire ; and on that model I conceive that three potatoes , as they ave found at many British dinner-tables , would be equal , in principle of ruin , to two glasses of vitriol . The same swage ignorance appears , and only not so often , in ttie bread of this island . Myriads of families eat it in that early state of sponge which bread assumes during the process of baking ; but less than sixty hourB will not fit this daugevous article of human diet to be eaten . And those who are acquainted with the yvorks of Parmcnticr , or other learned investigators of bread and of the baker ' s

    art , must be aiwiro tliat this quality of sponginess ( though quite equal to the vain of the digestive organs ) is but one in a legion of vices to which the article is liable . A German ofmuch research wvoteauookoutlieconceivable faults iiv a pail' of shoes , which he found to be about six hundred and sixty-six , many of them , as ho observed , requiring a very delicate process of study to find out ; whereas the possible fauUs in broad , which are nol less in number require no study nt all for tbe detection : they publish themselves through all varieties of misery , llut tbe perfection of bavbarism , as regards our island cookery , is vesevvedfovammalfood ; and the two polus of Oromasdes and Alirimanes are nowhere so conspicuously exhibited . Our insular sheep , for instance , are so far superior to any which the continent produces , that the present Prussian minister at our court is in tlie habit of questioning a man ' s right to talk of mutton as anything

    beyond o . gveat idea , unless lie can prove a resilience in Great Britain . One sole case he cites of a dinner on the Elbe , when a particular leg of mutton really struck him as rivalling any which he had lcnoivn in England . The mystery seemed inexplicable ; but , upon inquiry , it turned out to be an importation from Leith . Yet this incomparable article , to produce which the skill of the feeder must co-operate with the peculiar bounty of nature , calls forth the most dangerous refinements of barbarism in its cookery . A Frenchman requires , as the primary qualification of flesh meat , that it should be tender . IVe English universally , but especially the Scots , treat that quality with indifference , or with bare toleration . What we require is , that it should be fresh , that is , recently killed ( in which state it cannot be digestible except by a crocodile ) - , and we present it at table in a transition state o £ leather , demanding the teeth of a tiger to rend it in pieces , and the stomach of a tiger to digest it .

    SLOPS , MUFFINS , AND SUICIDES . Fifty years ago—and still lingering inveterately amongst nurses and other ignorant persons—there prevailed a notion that " slops" must be tho proper resource of the valetudinarian ; and the same erroneous notion appears in the common expression of ignorant wonder at the sort of breakfasts usual amongst women of rankinthe times of Queen Elizabeth . " What robust stomachs they must have had to suppoi t such solid meals ! " As to the question of fact , whether the stomachs were more or less robust in those days than at present , there is no need to offer an opinion . But the question of principle concerned in scientific dietetics points in the very opposite direction . By how much the organs of digestion are feebler , by so much is it the more indispensable that solid food and animal food should be adopted . A robust stomach may

    be equal to the trying task of supporting a fluid , such as tea for breakfast ; but for a feeble stomach , and still more for a stomach enfeebled by bad habits , broiled beef , or something equally solid and animal , but not too much subjected to tbe action of fire , is the only tolerable diut . This , indeed , is the one capital rule for a sufturcr from habitual , intoxication , -who must inevitably labour under an impaired digestion ; that as little as possible he should use of any liquid diet , and as little as possible of vegetable diet . Buef and a little bread ( at least sixty hours old ) , compose the privileged bill of fare for his breakfast But precisely it is , by the way , in relation to this earliest meal that human folly has in one or two instances shown itself most ruinously inventive . The less variety there is at that meal , tbe more is the danger from any single luxury ; and there is oneknown by the name of " muffins , "

    which has repeatedly manifested itself to be a plain and direct bounty upon suicide , Darwin , in his " Koonomia , " reports a case where an officer , holdiug the rank of lieutenant colonel , could not tolerate a breakfast iu which this odious article -was wanting ; but , as a savage retribution invariably supervened within an hour or two upon this act of insane sensuality , he came to a resolution that life was intolerable with muffins , but still more intolerable without muffins . He would stand the nuisance no longer : but yet , being a just man , he would give nature one final chance of reforming her dyspeptic atrocities . Mufiins therefore being laid at one angle of the breakfast-taUe , and loaded pistols at another , with rigid equity the colonel awaitedthe result . This was naturally pretty much as usual : and then the poor man , incapable of retreating from his word of honour , committed suicide —having previously left a line for posterity to the effect ( though I forget the expression ) , "that a mufiinless

    world was no world for him ; better do life at all than a life dismantled of muffins .. " Dr . Darwin was a showy philosopher , and fond of producing effect ; so that some allowance must be made in construing theaffair . Strictly speaking , it is probable that not the special want of muffins , but the generaL torment of indigestion , was the curse from wbieh the unhappy sufferer sought relief by suicide . And the colonel was not the first by many a million , that has fled from the very same form of wretchedness , or from its effects upon the genial spirits , to the same gloomy refuge . It should never be forgotten that , although some other more ovevt vexation ia . generally assigned as the proximate causfc of suicide , and often may be so as regards the immediate occasion , too generally this vexation borrowed its whole power to annoy , from the habitual atmosphere of irsitation m which tbe system had been kept by indigestion . So tuat iudirsctly and virtually perhaps all suicides maybe traced to mismanaged digestion .

    We are sorry we cannot find room for further extracts but we earnestlv recommend the reader ta turJ"tothe " azi- and « ad fte hta « lf the , «*»» of this valuable article . An elaborate review ot " The Dispatches and Letter * « t Lord Nelson a commenced in this number . Amongst the shortei notices of new works , -we- find the Mowing oathe Purgatory of Suicides : — This epic , which bears dato Stafford Gaol , is by far the most remarkable poem upon our table in the current month ; and we may extend the period . As we cannot , however , at this time , find space to render a reason , either for our approbation of much of its execution , or condemnation of much of its spivit , aad something of Us tendency , we must be content , in the meantime , to innounce to the world this singular production .

    We understand by tlie above that we may expeel next month a fair and full review of Mr . Coor-ER s poem . We hope so , If the critic ' s judgment bids

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    ^ L . n i . i i » ¦ ¦ . — ini % » « -Mii i . . ¦—m i imiiiiii nil" I ¦ ill 11 in M il »—y him praise or condemn , let liim do as bidden , honestly and fearlessly ; but no burking * We have a hfgk opinion of the criticism of this magazine , and shall bff glad to see it brought to bear on the production of our Chartist poet . This is , " take it for all in all , " an excellent number of Tait , and we have mucJi pleasure in recommending it to our readers .

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    ¦ Octobeb 4 , 1845 . THE HOKTHERN STAR , 3

• Citation
  • Northern Star (1837-1852), Oct. 4, 1845, page 3, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ns/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1335/page/3/