NATURE AND ART.

"Dost thou not love, in the season of spring,
To twine thee a flowery wreath,
And to see the beautiful birch tree fling
Its shade on the grass beneath?

Its glossy leaves, and its silvery stem,
Dost thou not love to look at them?"

HAVING been, for four months, or more, "in populous city pent," it is impossible to describe the pleasure we felt, one day, last week, in leaving, for a short time, the good town of Glasgow, and betaking ourselves to a rural walk. When last we visited the country, the howling winds of November had deprived the trees of their leaves, and Nature, bare, chill and shuddering, was timidly awaiting the approach of the wintery storms; but, now she is bedecked with her mantle of green, her trees are putting forth the young and the yellow leaves, and the snowdrop proclaims the triumph of spring to be achieved.

Our readers know the anxiety we feel, to cherish the fine arts, and, to say the truth, we have, under the modest name of amateur, more than once attempted to gain their applause by our contributions to the annual exhibition; but we mention this, at present, merely for the purpose of stating that, ere we proceeded on our ramble, we provided ourselves with some of the celebrated Keswick pencils, and a supply of thick drawing paper, materials which always afford us a source of pleasing occupation, since we delineate most of the picturesque objects we meet with, and, at times, have had not a little reason to be proud of our success.

It is acknowledged by all, that this elegant accomplishment has many advantages. It improves the taste, by enabling it to enjoy, with more exquisite relish, the highest and most elevated specimens of art. It improves the mind, by embuing it with the beauties of nature, and, by studying her in her varied characters of the picturesque, the beautiful and the sublime. It assists the memory, by recalling scenes to the eye, that otherwise would have been forgotten, and which words cannot describe, and it liberalizes the disposition, by the artist affording pleasure to those who delight in his art, although they may be unable to practise it. As a female acquisition, drawing is invaluable, and we think there is something peculiarly graceful, in the young and innocent heart, conversing with nature in her 'sylvan bowers, and receiving, from her romantic scenes, impressions so suitable for an uncorrupted bosom. We hope to sce art, far more extensively diffused in Scotland than hitherto, and that it shall be considered more essential, that a lady should be able to sketch from nature, than that she should know the characters of the "last new novel," or be familiar with the poetry of the Lover's Magazine.

In every country, eminent for art, there has generally been what may be termed an Augustan age, an era, not of very long duration, in which her character for taste was acquired, and in which her most distinguished artists flourished. In Greece, Phidias was almost immediately succeeded by Praxiteles, and how much of its glory in art do they absorb? Leonardi da Vinci and Michael Angelo extinguish all the lesser names in the Florentine school, whilst Raphael bears away almost the whole honours of the Roman. The very natural question therefore arises, has the Bri

tish school yet arrived at the zenith of its fame, has it passed the period of its highest honours, or is it likely to advance in its career, and to arrive at a height and renown which, hitherto, it has not been destined to attain? To investigate this subject fully would lead us into a disquisition far beyond either our limits or our inclination. We state, however, without hesitation, that the public taste is not yet qualified for a proper appreciation of the most elevated works of art, and that, consequently, we have not arrived at our most distinguished era in them; for fame lights up and patronage keeps alive the fire of genius, and to cherish it in any other way is ineffectual. The Raphael of Great Britain is, at this moment, unknown, probably unborn, and, if he who might have been her Phidias, be really alive and amongst us, he is, undoubtedly, prevented, by the temper of the times, from exercising his powers on those classical and congenial subjects which he would naturally have preferred. That a country like Great Britain-rich in the most varied and beautiful landscape scenery, renowned for the lofty character and high bearing of her sons, and the gracefulness and loveliness of her females—renowned for her bards, her historians, her orators and her warriors should not have a Claude in landscape, nor a Raphael in historical painting, is a proof that she has only seen the first ray of her morning in art, although that ray may have shone on the names of West, Barry, Fuseli, Wilson, Gainsborough and Turner.

Before commencing our ramble, the above remarks were suggested by the perusal of Allan Cunningham's fifth volume of the lives of the painters. If we have read this volume with less admiration than those that have preceded it, it is not because we think Mr. Cunningham has been less desirous to please, but that the lives he has selected are not calculated to excite interest. Of the English artists, there is not one we should name as entitled to rank with the first British painters, and as to those of Scotland, with the exception of Raeburn, less interesting memoirs we have never perused. Of that entitled a life of Jamesone, more than half the paper has as little reference to the artist, as to any other subject, and contains a sketch of the state of art in Scotland, during the reign of the Stuarts, whilst our other countryman Ramsay, appears to have been a cautious and successful pursuer of wealth, but altogether deficient in the characteristics of commanding genius.

We conceive that the biographer, will, generally, be most successful, when his memoir either refers to a character distinguished for talent in the age he lived, or when celebrated for his peculiarities alone, and the biographer has an opportunity of presenting them to his readers, in all their aspects, both public and private. We attribute the charm which pervades the life of Raeburn, in Mr. C.'s volume, to the minute particulars which he has been able to select, regarding this distinguished artist, and we object to almost nothing in his placid history, but the name which Mr. C. would apply to him, that of "the Scottish Reynolds,"-Henry Raeburn requires no such appendage. We also differ from Mr. C. in some of his remarks regarding Raeburn's uniform success, in pourtraying individual character. The life of

Bonington requires to be particularly attended to, and we shall reserve the rest of this paper for it. A work,* which ought to be better known in Scotland than it has hitherto been, enables us to give some emendations, along with Mr. Cunningham's memoir, and we shall leave our readers to exercise their own judgment on the subject.

Mr. Cunningham remarks, "that Bonington's father directed his studies, made him familiar from his cradle with works of art, guided his hand in sketching, and bade him study the pasture hills, the ruined towers, &c." page 296. But, saith the Library, "so far from his father taking every opportunity of leading him to the arts as a profession, he never considered the subject at all; and the whole training and pupilage of the

son

was left to his affectionate and accomplished mother. It is true his father practised as a portrait painter, but it was more in the name than the principle, and, even if he had possessed the talent, sufficiently for directing his son's abilities, his inclinations withdrew him to other scenes and pursuits. When he ought to have been in attendance on his family and establishment, he was enacting the political mountebank in some part of the town. It was during one of these performances in the market place at Nottingham, when a vast assemblage were listening to the orations of Mr. Bonington that young Bonington and his friend happened to pass. The latter said, look at your father,' ah!' replied the other, with tears in his eyes, this is all I get by it,' at the same time taking a solitary penny bun from his pocket, to eat for his dinner, as symbolical of his then lowness of fortuue."

With some of Mr. Cunningham's criticisms on Bonington's works we cannot agree. Is he consistent with himself?" When, in after life he had an opportunity of comparing his conceptions with the truth of actual nature, he found that he had seized the grand and leading features, but had missed those subordinate charms which lend such allurements to landscape." Does not such a description indicate breadth of style as forcibly as language can speak, and yet Mr. C. asserts afterwards-that "it cannot be denied he wants vigour and breadth." Let our readers look to W. Miller's engraving from Bonington's picture of a coast scene, Cornwall, which appeared about a year ago, and decide.

There are still two lives to which we hope to see Mr. Cunningham direct his attention-the one, that of W. H. Williams, and the other of Sir Thos. Lawrence. Mr. C.'s note, regarding the former, will not do. We cannot allow him to decline this task for the cause he mentions. A life of Williams is not perhaps to be derived from biographical dictionaries, and notices and memoirs already printed, but he yet lives in a hundred hearts, and his taste and feelings are recorded not only in his Grecian Tour, but also in numerous private letters, all of which would be at Mr. C.'s disposal, were he to make personal application to the artist's friends. With the influence of Chantry, and of Lockhart, which he can command, and his own admirable taste in combining his materials, we should have a life of Lawrence altogether unrivalled. We are anxious Mr. Cunningham should undertake this honourable office, because we are unacquainted with any person capable of doing it so well.

A REAL FRIEND.

(From the German of Herder.)

A RICH merchant had an only son, whom he loved most affectionately. He educated him with the utmost care and employed every means to improve and cultivate his mind. At length, when he grew up to be a youth, his father called him before him and thus addressed him:-" My son, I have taught thee all that becomes a man of thy situation and calling, to Library of the Fine Arts.

know. But, above all things, standest thou in need of that prudence which can only be acquired by much intercourse with the world, and by studying, attentively, the many and varied characters of our fellow-mortals. Therefore is it, that I wish thee to spend several years in foreign countries. Travelling gives experience, and the more that we see of mankind, the better do we know how to live with them. The world is a great book, from which an attentive reader may derive much valuable information; it is like a mirror, which shews us mankind stripped of all disguise. Look attentively, my son, into this glass, and learn, in particular, that prudence, by means of which, a wise man obtains the greatest blessing of life; I mean a friend. If thou findest even one in the course of thy life, so wilt thou possess the most beautiful, as well as the most lasting of all earthly possessions, of which death alone, can deprive thee. Riches and happines are subject to a thousand mishaps; but no human power can rob them of this treasure. Search, therefore, on thy travels for such a jewel, and hesitate not to sacrifice even thy all to obtain possession of it."

BENEFITS OF RAIL-ROADS.

The following extract has been selected from a very popular and clever work—Arnott's Elements of Physic:

In reviewing the history of the human race, we find every remarkable increase in civilization, to have taken place, very much in proportion to the facilities of intercourse offered in particular situations. First, therefore, civilization grew along the banks of great rivers, as the Nile, the Euphrates, and the Ganges, or along the shores of inland Seas and Archipelagos of Greece; or over fertile and extended plains, as in many parts of India. When the situation thus bound a great number of individuals into one body, the useful thought or action of any one unusually gifted, and which, in the insulated state, would soon have been forgotten and lost, extended its influence immediately to the whole body, and became the thought or action of all who could benefit by it, besides that it was recorded for ever, as part of the growing science of art of the community. And in a numerous society, such useful new thoughts and acts, would naturally be more frequent, because the persons feeling that they had the eyes of a multitude upon them, and that the rewards of excellence would be proportionally great, would be excited to emulation in all the pursuits that could contribute to the well-being of the society. Men soon learned to estimate aright these and many other advantages of easy intercourse, and, after having seized with avidity all the stations naturally fitted for their purposes, they began to improve the old, and to make new stations. They created rivers and shores and plans of their own, that is, they constituted canals, and basins, and roads, and so artificially connected regions, which nature seemed to have separated for ever. In the British Isles, the advantages arising from certain lines of canal and road, first executed, soon led to numberless similar enterprises, and, within half a century, the empire has been thus intersected in all directions; and it seems as if the noble work were now to be crowned by the substitution of level railways, for many of the common roads and canals. Several rail-roads of considerable extent have already been established. If we suppose the progress to continue, and the price of transporting things and persons to be reduced by them to a fourth of the present charge-and in many cases it may be less-and if we suppose the time of journeying with safety, also to be reduced in some considerable degree—of which there can be as little doubt -the general adoption of them would operate an extraordinary revolution and improvement in the state of society. Without in reality changing the distances of places, it would in effect bring all places nearer to each other, and would give to every spot in the kingdom the conveniences of the whole-of town and country, of sea-coast and of Highland district-crowded and unhealthy parts of towns would scatter their inhabitants into the country; for the man of business could be as conveniently at his post from a distance of several miles, as he is now from an adjoining street! The present heavy charges for bringing distant produce to market,

being nearly saved, the buyer every where would purchase cheaper, and the producer would be still better remunerated. In a word, such a change would be effected, as if by magic, the whole of Britain had been compressed into a circle of a few miles in diameter, yet without any part losing aught of its magnitude or beauty. All this may appear visionary, but it is less so than seventy years ago, it would have been to anticipate much of what has really come

to pass.

CHRISTIAN UNITY.

To the Editor of the THE DAY.

SIR,-Having observed in some of the earlier numbers of The Day, several communications from different persons on the above subject, allow me to transmit the following narrative, which appears to me, in some measure to realize the wishes of your correspondents. AMICUS.

General Union of Ministers and Congregations in Newcastle and Gateshead.

THE ministers and others of different evangelical denominations in Newcastle and Gateshead, deeply lamenting the depravity and irreligion prevailing in these towns, and, fearful of a deficiency in the piety and zeal of many professing Christians have formed themselves into a union for the purpose of promoting a revival of religion. The union consists of twenty ministers and fourteen congregations of Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist, and independent denominations. Any measures which may be deemed likely, under the divine blessing, to promote a diffusion of vital Christianity, will be adopted. A tract has been published, entitled, "An Affectionate Address to the Inbabitants of Newcastle and Gateshead, on the present alarming visitation of Divine Providence, in the fatal Ravages of the Spasmodic Cholera;" twenty thousand copies of which have been distributed. Monday, the 26th of December, was set apart for humiliation and prayer, under the awful judgments with which the town was then visited. Monday, the 30th of January, was also observed as a day of special prayer for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, when the different congregations united in devotional exercises. A prayer meeting took place in the Baptist Chapel, New Court, at eight in the morning, and another in the Secession Chapel, Campbell Place, at twelve In the evening a meeting was held in the Methodist Chapel, Brunswick Place, addresses on a revival of religion were delivered by the Rev. Richard Pengilly, of the Baptist Chapel, Tuthill Stairs; the Rev. Alex. Reid, of the Independent Chapel, Postern; and the Rev. Valentine Ward, the Superintendent of the Newcastle Circuit of Wesleyan Methodists. The Rev. James Pringle and the Rev. John Lockhart (Presbyterians,) and the Rev. George Sample (Baptist,) engaged in prayer. A montbly meeting for prayer and the communication of intelligence regarding revivals of religion has been instituted, which it is intended shall be held alternately in the Chapels of the different ministers composing the union, on the evening of the second Friday of every month. The ministers intend connecting private consultation and prayer with the public services, and they affectionately entreat their respective flocks to co-operate with them in the diligent and zealous use of all proper means for the furtherance of the gospel.

at noon.

THE DUKE OF SUSSEX'S EVENING PARTIES.

As President of the Royal Society, his Royal Highness has, with great condescension and urbanity, opened his residence in Kensington Palace for the reception, on certain appointed evenings, of individuals distinguished by rank and station, or by their connexion with the literature, the arts, and the sciences of their time. The second of these meetings took place last Saturday, when a brilliant assemblage of about five hundred persons of the description alluded to, foreign and English, were gratified by the kind and courteous attentions of their royal host. Having always been of opinion that the intercourse among enlightened men, engaged in all the varieties of intellectual pursuit, which is promoted by such means, is of very high importance, we cannot but congratulate them and the country on the liberal example thus shewn by a Prince of the blood royal, at the head of one of our foremost national institutions, and well able, by his own great attainments, his comprehensive knowledge of books and men, his intimate acquaintance with the progress of philosophical improvement, as well as the refinements of the age, to appreciate the claims of others, and establish so meritorious a practice by the sanction of his au

thority. It is not for us, in newspaper phraseology, to catalogue the names, and proclaim the endowments of the celebrated personages who formed the majority of this company. It is enough to say of them, that it was delightful to witness the eminent of all parties and classes mingling in polite and friendly union together, and discoursing on subjects which possess an interest for every rational and well-informed mind in civilized society. There was neither Whig, nor Tory, nor Aristocrat, nor Radical, nor Reformer, nor Anti-Reformer, in the rooms: all who were there were lovers of literature and science, well-wishers to the progress of human amelioration. Cabinet and ex-cabinet ministers; peers

not jealous of their order, and "liberal" commoners not thinking of innovation; physicians forgetting the questions of cholera and contagion; bishops who will vote for the second reading, and whose palaces have been burnt for the first; astronomers, including the first names in the Astronomical Society and Europe; naturalists of similar rank in their study, with the President of the Linnean Society; members of distinction belonging to the Royal Academy, the Geographical Society, the Royal Society, the Society of Antiquaries, the Geological Society, the Society of Arts, and other bodies of the same nature; besides private characters, whose labours had attracted the public regard—all were mingled in a fusion very pleasant to behold, and the effect of which, it requires but a slight notion of the slight strings which lead to great results, to prognosticate are calculated to be far more momentous than their apparent cause. An introduction, a recommendation, a hint, a word, on such an occasion, may produce much good; but were nothing produced, the mere satisfaction of bringing (all the grades between being equally amalgamated,) the ingenious mechanic, the inventor of a new power, and the illustrious inheritor of that other power of patronage, together, is a proud and laudable office. Long may His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex fill and enjoy it. He may believe us, there is no popularity to be compared with it.-Athenæum.

MISCELLANEA.

Bone is a tissue of cells and partitions, as little solid as a heap of empty packing boxes.

It has been said there would be no more wars in the world, if every Sovereign would visit his military hospitals the next day after a battle.

Industrious habits are a far better inheritance for children than large estates.

The day has been considered as an image of the year, and the year as the representation of life. The morning answers to the spring, and the spring to childhood and youth; the noon corresponds to the summer, and the summer to the strength of manhood. The evening is an emblem of autumn, and autumn of declining life. The night with its silence and darkness shows the winter, in which all the powers of vegetation are benumbed ; and the winter points out the time when life shall cease; with its hopes and pleasures.

PROLIFIC SUBJECTS.-Wilderson has 152 lectures on the 51st psalm, and 108 lectures on the 8th of John.

Vanity inclines us to find faults any where rather than in ourselves. He that reads and grows no wiser, seldom suspects his own deficiency; but complains of hard words and obscure sentences, and asks why books are written which cannot be understood.

MDLLE. TAGLIONI.-We regret to learn that this lady is dangerously ill, from a severe accident; while in the act of flying as a sylph at a considerable height, she fell to the stage-surgical assistance was promptly had, and she was twice bled, but remains in a dangerous state.

Dr. Johnson being asked his opinion of the title of a small volume, remarkable for its pomposity, replied, that it was similar to placing an eight-and-forty pounder at the door of a pig-sty.

THE TEAR.

THE following beautiful lines have been ascribed to the youthful muse of Thomas Moore, Esq.

On beds of snow, the moon beam slept,
And sullen was the midnight gloom;
When, by the damp grave Ellen wept-

Sweet maid! it was her Lindor's tomb.

A warm tear gushed-the wintr'y air
Congeal'd it as it flow'd away:
All night it lay, an ice drop there-

At morn, it glittered in the ray.

An angel, wand'ring from his sphere,
Who saw the bright, the frozen gem;
To dew-eyed pity brought the tear,
And hung it on her diadem.

GLASGOW REMINISCENCE.

THE following story is still preserved of a Glasgow merchant of the old school long since dead. He was at one time charged with a fraud upon the revenue, and the case became the subject of an exchequer trial. It was then customary for the Crown to pay the jury, provided a favourable verdict was returned; but, if a verdict was returned for the defendant, the Crown paid nothing. A most reprehensible custom also prevailed, which was that, the Counsel for the Crown stated this very important fact to the jury at the close of his opening speech. We do not mean to say that this was done for the purpose of biassing the jury, but we merely state the fact that such was the case. Mr. was present at the trial in which he was involved, and he heard the counsel conclude his address, by saying, "Gentlemen, I have farther to inform you, that, if you find in favour of the Crown, you are entitled to half-aguinea each, and, should you find for the defendant, you receive nothing." The indignant merchant on hearing this, instantly started to his feet, and looking to the jury, called out, "Gentlemen, if you fin' for me, I'll gie ye a guinea the piece." The wigs of the Lawyers were variously agitated at this rather extraordinary address: the Chief Baron instantly ordered him to sit down, and angrily asked him, if he meant to bribe the jury. "Weel, ma Lord," said the defendant "if I should, it was that man that began first; and I'll double't wi' him ony day."

LITERARY NOTICES.

press,

"The

MR. P. AGAR of Trinity College, Oxford, has in the City of Tombs," an Egyptian Tale, and other Poems. We understand that the Earl of Mulgrave is about to give the world a tale of high life, entitled "The Contrast," a New Story of Nature and Art."

It is also said, that the Author of "Granby" is about to publish a New Novel, to be entitled, " Arlington."

Among the host of cheap periodicals, which our example has summoned into existence, in the West Country, we understand there is a weekly periodical about to be started in Lanark! In the course of a few days, we hope to be able to announce to the lovers of literature and taste, the appearance of the "Camlachie Chatterer," the "Partick Pettifogger," and the "Gorbals Growler."

FESTIVALS OF THE LUTHERIAN CHURCH.

To the Editor of THE DAY.

SIR, I have no doubt that an explanation of the terms noted below, will be both useful and acceptable to a portion of your readers. Should you be of the same opinion, you would do me a favour, by inserting them in the your popular work. Yours, &c. LUTHER.

March, 1832.

Epiphany. A festival observed to commemorate the appearance of our Saviour to the Wise men.

Septuagesima.-Supposed to be so named from being about 70 days before Easter.

Sexagasima. Supposed to be so named from being about 60 days before Easter.

Quadragesima. First Sunday of Lent.

Lent. A solemn period of fasting before Easter.
Passion Week.—The last week in Lent.

Ash Wednesday. The first day of Lent-the name probably connected with the ancient penance of "Sackcloth and Ashes." Annunciation or Lady Day.

Palm Sunday-The sixth Sunday of Lent-so called from our Saviour's triumphant entry into Jerusalem." The people took branches of palm trees and went forth to meet him."-St. John, xii. chap.

Good Friday.-In memory of the Death of the Saviour. Easter Sunday-In commemoration of the Resurrection. Rogation Week.-Preceding Whitsunday, from the number of petitions and prayers offered.

Ascension Day.-In memory of our Saviour's ascension to heaven.

Whitsunday.--A solemn festival commemorative of Pentecost. Trinity Sunday.-A festival in honour of the blessed Trinity. Advent Sunday. The approach or coming on of the feast of the Nativity.

LONDON FASHIONS FOR APRIL.

HATS AND BONNETS.-Moire bonnets have not yet wholly displaced velvet ones, but they will before the end of the month. Most of the new ones, whether hats or bonnets, are of the bibi shape, and in general trimmed with feathers, or rather we should say, with a single feather to correspond in colour with the hat; it may be placed either from the right to the left, or else quite upright, with the tip bending over the crown of the hat. In the latter case the feather must be shorter than in the former.

OUT-DOOR COSTUMES.-A few Spring shawls have already appeared of a novel material, and very elegant patterns, the material is white, it resembles cachemirienne, but is still lighter, though not demi-transparent. The border is embroidered in very rich patterns in different coloured silks, some of the most elegant have rosaces at the four corners and in the centre. As yet those shawls have hardly appeared, but before the end of the month they will be very generally adopted. At this moment cachemires are more worn, and are indeed more appropriate to demi-saison costume. Among the novelties in preparation, but which have not yet appeared for carriage dress, are shawls of black China crape, embroidered in gold at each corner. Spring pelisses begin to be seen. A good many are open in front. The only novelty in their form is the excessive width of the skirt, and its extraordinary fulness round the waist, Moire is the favourite material for pelisses, the fashionable colours for them are emerald green, pearl grey, and nut brown. This last colour is in particular favour for dresses and bonnets, as well as pelisses. It seems likely to succeed aventurine. BALL DRESS. Gauze de Turin is the only novel material, it is worn plain and embroidered; and we must cite two dresses which are particularly in favour of very young ladies. The one

is of crape, the corsage cut low and square, is full round the bottom of the waist, and trimmed round the top with a single row of plain tulle, quilled very full, which falls over. Bèret sleeves surmounted by three rows of tulle forming a jockey. A very broad ribbon borders the skirt, and mounts in front from the right to the left nearly as high as the knee, where it is attached by a light bouquet of wild flowers. The other dress is of white gauze, a Grecian corsage bordered with a narrow blond lace, which stands up round the bust. The sleeves are trimmed with small coques of gauze ribbons on the shoulders, ends of different lengths fall from them, and form jockeys. The trimming of the skirt consists of a very broad satin striped gauze ribbon, which descends from the ceinture, and is retained at the hem by a rose with buds and foliage; the ribbon turning back remounts to the ceinture, where a similar bouquet attaches it to the left side.

THE ART OF BOWING.

"PLACE your left foot behind your right, keeping your body erect and your head inclining a little to the right shoulder. Then, when you have completed your position, bend your neck till half an inch of your chin is hid in your neckcloth, and throw your elbows a little forward, gently and gracefully, if you can." This is the beau ideal of a bow, and, if you will go to any dancing master in Paris, London, or Glasgow, he will teach you the first rule of politeness in nearly the same words which we have used. It is a point upon which there are no diversities of opinion entertained by pragmatical disputants, and no darling theories cherished by conceited pedants. The first principles of the bow are as universally acknowledged as any axiom in Euclid, and the manner of teaching it in England and upon the continent, differs no more than the system of Mathematics in this country from that of the French. In both cases the same results are evolved; the method of attaining them is not strictly similar, but, in the fundamental laws upon which they depend, there is no difference whatever.

Yet, notwithstanding the general understanding which exists upon this subject, certain necessary circumstances render it impossible to act, in every case, in accordance with it. Hence it happens, that the theory of bowing, however beautiful in its elements, becomes useless like many other theories, because it will not apply to practice. It would not do to stop in a crowded street, and go through the motions described above, whenever you met an acquaintance-nor would you even find it convenient to repeat the whole of them before taking off your hat to salute a lady. It is obvious, that there are some occasions where haste requires an abbreviation of the process, and prevents the ceremonial bow from being used, except in such places as the stage or a ball-room. Individuals, therefore, in proportion as they mingle in society, adopt or form for themselves a particular manner of expressing the courtesies of life; so that, in general, they are distinguished as much by their bow, as by any other indication of character. You have seen a man, hurrying along the Trongate, with distended palms, and diving his head into the waistcoat pocket of every one whose face he recognized. You, probably, suppose him a busy-body, and one who thrusts his nose into the affairs of other people. You see another man coming along, kissing his hand to every side, and keeping his head as erect as it was planted upon his shoulders. You analyze him into the essence of vanity. A third struts up with a determined air, and gives such an earnest nod, that you think he has walked out of his way, on purpose to salute you. He is, undoubtedly, not a man who can choose his own society. The next person you meet may pass you with a supercilious noli me tangere signal. No matter though you set him down for a coxcomb.

These illustrations may show what an important branch of education the art of bowing ought to form ; but it is of importance to know, that how to bow is not the only material point, but that the when and where are circumstances of equal consequence. It is not enough to know the particular inclination of the head, which you are to measure out upon given occa

sions; you must, also, be prepared to decide, at a moment's warning, the reasons for and against favouring any individual, with that mark of your patronage or dependence. It is in this, that the difficult secret of fashion consists, and it is by a rigid adherence to it, that one has the only chance of rising to haut ton. In Almack's, and the other resorts of high life, the rule is so well understood, that the most intimate friends, when aware of any impropriety in their being seen together, acknowledge it by mutual consent, and look at one another without the slightest surprise, though neither betray any mark of recognition. Indeed, the practice is founded upon a law, which has its origin in human nature, namely, the desire of pleasing the many, and hence, as long as society exists, on its present footing, it must obtain in every refined community. In Glasgow, as in other towns of Scotland, where the influence of fashion predominates, this desirable accomplishment is practised, though, unfortunately, not always understood. A dandy, of the first water, will lose caste, if he bows to an unknown face, or a broad-brimmed hat; and, it is pretty generally acknowledged, that it is a gentleman's duty to cut his most intimate friend, whenever the latter has trangressed the. most trivial rule of etiquette, and incurred the opprobrium of society.

Perhaps, reader ! you sometimes promenade in St. Vincent Street, yourself, or join those loitering groups which are to be seen, daily, at four o'clock, on the genteel side of the Trongate. In these excursions, you may have had your own decision exercised, in the manner of refusing a nod with civility. You may have turned up your eyes to the sky, when you met a tradesman who had been dunning you for money for a fortnight; and you may have assumed a convenient obliquity of vision, in order to escape encountering a troublesome companion. This you may have repeat edly done with impunity; for a man never thinks of expecting a bow from a gentleman who owes him money, and a fellow who has not the sense to make himself agreeable, must make up his mind to be treated just as it happens to be convenient. With shabby gentlemen, you generally have little trouble; for they are prepared to receive or be denied your courtesies, when occasion requires, and knowing that they can purchase your arm in a crowded street, by a new pair of pantaloons or a London coat, they virtually resign all claim to your favours, when they make their visits to the tailor less frequent than yours. Men of this sort understand the thing, and never ask you why you sometimes pass them without notice, and at others dignify them with a condescending inclination. But there are others whom it is not so easy to satisfy in this respect, as they have such antiquated notions of breeding, that they cannot for their lives conjecture, why you do not always receive them with the same politeness. It would be in vain to attempt explaining to them, that you must occasionally see them without pretending to know it. It is not impossible that they should be so absurd as to construe such an apology into an insult, and demand satisfaction for what is done, in compliance with the rules of fashion.

Some of these fellows are apt to get obstreperous, if you refuse to introduce them to a lady of your acquaint