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it; but I'll uphauld this threip, that syne the days of Moses, the Prophets, and King Solomon, there has been mony waur given to the public, and mair sang made about their merits than I mean to mak about mine. "Ae thing will be apparent to the meanest capacity, tho it were that of a modiewort, quhilk is, that my book disna contain ony wicked allusions or profane ballatry—and that gif it does no good, it will, like the doctor's potion of cauld spring well water, flavoured with peppermint-do no harm to either beast or body, or sooking bairn-the whilk is a negative virtue of some consequence in this sin-laden and unregenerate age.

But Solomon, when he delivered his opingyon anent book.manufacturing, with some thing mair of bitterness than a body could expeck from ane that has written meikle and no leetle himsell, has not stated his balance-sheet fairly; for ye see he has lost sicht of the credit-side of the account a'thegether. He has forgot to balance the weariness of the flesh, with the pleasour whilk every sensible mind feels when, day by day, and page by page, it beholds the works of its individual hands prospering and increasing; and the images, and creations, and visions of the brain assuming a tangible shape, whereby they can influence and direck other minds, and be as eternal finger-posts in the paths of learning and virtue for generations after generations, to guide them in their search after the wells of divine truth and universal benevolence. It does not come well aff ane like me to differ with a greater and and a better man than mysell-ane that was a crownit king, and ruled over a powerful and singular people ; and ane wbase name rang frae the outermost ends of Ethiopia to the farest bounds of Assyria, marching, as I would jalouse, with the Chinese dyke ; as renowned for natural wisdom and acquired knowledge, while I, at the heichest pitch of my eartbly dignity, was naething mair than the first Baillie of a great manufacturing and intelligent town, and wauked and sleeped for full twa yeirs with a gowd chain, significant of authority, about my neck—and my name and reputation was soundit nae farrer nor Glasgow or Embro, Manchester, or, aiblins, Lunun. I needna say, aiblins, regarding Lunun ; for the late King kent me full weel, I having had the pleasour and honour to kiss bis Joof, and welcome him to bis auld kingdom of Scotland, when he cam to Embro in the year twentytwa, as will be seen in the papers and records of the day, and as is mair fully detailed in an ensuing chapter-weel, I was saying, it was na decent for me to differ with King Solomon on speculative points; but, nevertheless, I maun be bonest aneuch to say, that his sentence anent the manufacture of books has an unco strong taste of the weariness and peevishness of auld age, and a mortified speerit. For the present, we shall insist upon this point nae farder, till I hear what my good friend Dr. Kittletext (of whose kirk I am an unwortby vessel, having been an elder thereof for ten years bygane, of the whilk office mair in its proper place hereafter) has to say, in his ain yedifying, and pleasing, and soul. refreshing manner. I may just hivt, however, that I think the Doctor, honest man, will side with me; for be writes books and pamphlets himsell as fast as a mill shills groats; but they are all ower good, as he assures me, to sell weel in the market, which is undoubtedly a desperate pity.

Having couped the creels ower King Solomon and his glory, I may now shortly state the solid and substantious reasons which weighed with me in this great concern. And, first, ye must ob. serve, tbat tho I am or have been a Bailie, a Councillor, a Commissioner of Police, a Director or Manager of various public establishments, and have kis:t the King's loof, and been muckle thocht of here and elsewhere ; yet, at the outset of life, I was as puir ant humble as my neibours, and bad a weary and lang faucht to fecht afore I got my neb abune the water, and then as sair a strussle to soom to dry land, to beik upon the banks in the sunsbine of prosperity. The fack is, and I take pride in telling it, I raise frae naething to something by the sweat of my brow and the lawbour of my twa hands. Step by step I muntit the ladder of fortune, till I speelit up to the beicht I now enjoy ; for I may tell ye that I am neist bore to the Provostship. When that dignity is put in my offer, I dinna think I will accept it; for I feel myself growing downwards like hawkie's tail-cauld in the blude, and a wee thocht ower auld; and am really no quite sae gleg and whippy as I was sax years syne, quilk, nae doubt, is but piper's news to the feck of the world : for, though I say it mysel, Baillie Pirnie bas been gayen kenspeckle in his day. Weel, ye see, getting on frae little to mair, and frue mair to muckler things, and instead of doing business in a wee way, but upon a graund scale with augents here, and there, and every where, and with correspondents and merchants ower the haill face of the country, it must be acknowledged that my progress thro life, with all its ups and downs, must serve as a good example to the young and an incentive to the thochtless, to try and tread in my footsteps. It will pruve a moral lesson to mau in ilka station of life-high or low, rich or poor ; which, if learned and pondered upon, must conduce to their weelfare and happiness in particular, and thereby contri. bute to the general good of society.

Secondly, it must be self-evident that one who has, like me, come thro' sundry vicissitudes of good and evil fortune, and has been reckoned hy the public as a man of steady, moral, and religious habits, that in his ain person has filled many onerous offices of trust and dignity, and kept a sic! outlook upon all that was acting or transacting around him, far or near, here or beyond, for the better half of a century, cannot fail, in the natural coorse of

things, and under the favour of Providence, to have gathered much useful and practical knowledge, and made many weel-grounded observations anent occurrents, worthy of remembrance to all after times, as weel as of great good to the rising generation, which is unco uppish, and apt to sneer at the wisdom and calin ways of jogging through life, familiar to their elders.

And, thirdly, having jotted doun, in an old ledger, which was only half used when I gave up business and retired upon a competency, to enjoy, as my sin, Tummas, says, (wha is bred for the kirk, and is this year in the Hall,) my otium cum dignitate, every thing remarkable in my life, accompanied with moral reflections and precepts for after guidance, I thocht it would be a pity not to make all mankind welcome to the fruits of my matured experience, that they might be made better and wiser by scanning the omissions or commissions, and the errors of bead or beart, of ane of themsells.

And, fourthly, and lastly, I will confess that my ain gratification has had no inconsiderable weight with me in becoming an authour. Books are a sort of passport to worldly immortality. Bairns may keep up a dame, but they cannot maintain the fame of ane that has actit his pairt like a man in this theatre of the world. I have liked weel to hear poets and sang writers express themsells feelingly on this natural passion of man's heart. Really, without a sark to their back, a bite in their belly, or a saxpence in their pouch, I have heard, in my time, some othem speak like emperors about the way they wud be idoleezed by after ages. Puir creatures, my heart bled for them and their dreams, and aften hae I stappit a sma tritie intil their loof, just that they micht not die of downright starvation. They aye received it as a lend, and lookit as proud as gin they had obleegit me by taking it ; however, their term day never came roun, and I didna mind, as the sillar was never posted in ony ither way in my books, than as “inci. dents disbursed." But some of the words of these flichty creatures stuck to my memory; for, fou or sober, they had aye some glimpses of a deep-searching wisdom into human nature and feelings, very profitable for a man of my understanding to ponder upon aster warebouse hours, and the cares of the day were bye. There is anither observe wbich I think I am enteetlit to mak, and that is, that it is an uncommon fine thing in itsell, for a man, in the fall of his days, to ineditate upon his bypast life, and the uncos thereof, its lichts and its shadows, and all its turnings and windings. For my ain individual pairt, I may well repeat, as I have before observed, that, meikle bave I seen, and meikle have I learnied, in this idle stramasb, aad that, being of an observing turn, my hope is, that every change in the crook of my lot has not owerslided without improvement.

It has been my constant endeavour to sook the marrow of reflection out of every circumstance and accident of life; and, as weel as I could, to preserve, above all, an even mind and a resigned speerit. Fiery tempered bodies get aye into a carfuffle about tritles; but I never saw ony good come of losing temper about what it was out of the power of man to mend or prevent. “ To jouk and let the jaw gang by,” is an auld proverb, though it may not be in Davie Lindsay; and, “what cannot be mnendit suld be sune endit," is abither. My puir faither, that's deid and gane, and laid in the mools mony a year syne, was a deacon at proverbs, and, saving some pickles of warldly wisdom of that sort, education I never bad, till I wrocbt to put mysell to the schule, when I got on like a house in tire, and ran thro' the wee spell like a lam plichter, which was an uncommon thing for a bairn of my years.

But, as I was saying, I ayo keepit an easy turn of mind, and that, in my opingyon, is a great lengthener out of a bodie's days in this weary warld, and helps wonderfully to eik out the silly thrums of life. Were it not for this quiet contentment in ilka situation it pleased an owerseeing and divine Providence to place

will not say I would be living and life-like at this moment of time, pleasantly occupied in endyting my ain life, in my cozie back parlour, whilk looks into a pleasant bit garden, weel plenished wi' vegetables, sic as leeks, cabbage, green kail, turnips and carrots, forbye pinks, sweet Williams, roses and lillies, and other savoury herbs, and sax grosset busses as round as a bee's skep, and, without leeing, ilka ane the bouk of a rick of hay, wi' twa apple trees, a pear tree, a geen tree, and some ither bornje things that needna be named, over and above a fine sun dial, standing in the centre of the middle walk, the whilk is nicely laid wi' gravel and white chuckey-stanes, and bordered with bachelor's buttons, daisies, boxwood, spearmint and rosemary, the smell whereof is very pleasant and refreshing in the callerness of morning, or the saftness of the gloaming.

Such are a few of the digested reasons which bave promuved me to turn authour in my auld days; and, having told the public who I am and what I mean to do, I shall cease my labours for the present, and, in my second chapter, enter at ance into particulars, like a man of business habits.

me,

LITERARY GEM.

Quoth Tom, my book is full of fire,

sparkles like a jewel, Yes, cries his friend, that's truth entire,

It is the best of fuel.

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* The Day will turn out a Week,” cried my gouty uncle, and he looked for applause to the indifferent joke. " Excuse me,” said my Eliza,” it has already become an Epoch."

After the Manner of the Americans.- -“ Lack a day !" exclaimed the fair Fanny, as her lover seized her band to kiss it, “ Lack a day! Lack a day !" " That is unnecessary, my charmer,” cried he," for you can make it up by subscribing at Wylie's Circulating Library, who also engages to coinplete Numbers amissing."

LONDON THEATRICALS. From our London Correspondent.

Since my last, the Operatic play of “ My own Lover," bas been brought forward, with tolerable success, at Drury Lane. The music, as well as the dialogue, is the composition of Mr. George Rodwell, and, upon the whole, is creditable to his talents. The Drama is not so much remarkable for a plot as it is for all the ingredients essential to the support of one. It owes its origin, essentially, to the ingenuity of Le Sage, but the plagarisms have been so judiciously made, and so admirably improved upon, that the author of this Drama may lay claim to a inerit tantamount to originality.

I am happy to inform you, that Mr. Kemble resumed his professional labours at Covent Garden Theatre on Monday last, in the character of Mercutio, assisted by his daughter in that of Juliet, and other worthy people in their respective parts. The only novelties I hear of, at Covent Garden are, the tragic play of Lord Leveson Gower, yclept Catherine of Cleves, is to be, after all, launched, as Forbes calls it, iminediately—that Lord Fife has been chasse'd by Miss Cawse, and that the Romeo of the theatre has, in consequence, become " a free and accepted mason."

It is rather a rare thing in this city to hear any real good harmony. Solo singing we are frequently treated to, but a trio or a quartetto, well given, is indeed a rara avis in terris. The requisites and the practice necessary to produce this peculiar species of Vocal Music, are, in fact, seldom ever found in this country. It is to Germany, which may be said to be the cradle of this noblest branch of the Musical Art-Harmony—that we owe both the best compositions of this kind, and the persons who are best able to execute them. Among the people of that land, the mysteries of counterpoint are not limited to a few Maestri, nor the execution of a difficult chorus, to the elite of a King's Theatre. There, music is really studied, practised and worshipped by every one from the peasant to the prince, affording, as it ever does, the most hal. lowed delight of the one, and the most jovial pastime of the other. The boor, on finishing his daily labour, retires to the bosom of his own family, to enjoy after bis beer and black bread, a glee or madrigal; the citizen in the evening burries to the Wirtshans, not to discuss politics and fret about taxation, but to meet a set of gossips, who can join in the choral music of “ Am Rheinam Rhein !" or who, over a glass of Kaltschal, can pour out a loud burst of harmony in praise of Crambamboli, while the Student amid the misty atmosphere, produced by his Meerschaum, and the fantastic visions resulting from the intoxicating weed Caprioles, and modulates on his harpsichord, or practises his Solfeggi, in all their direct and inverted intervals.

The Germans, of all people, are gifted, by nature, with most correct ears. Tune, to use Phrenological language, is, in fact, most peculiarly developed in a Teutonic head, and, among the Germans, in none so great as those of the Bobemians. We are led to make these remarks from having attended the concert given, on Friday evening, by four natives of this circle of Germany, and, it is only justice to say, that we have scarcely ever heard, in any quarter of the musical world a greater treat of its kind. We expected to have beard something, nearly akin, to the Tyrolese ; but the music of the Bobemian Brothers is of a higher and more scientific description, while their voices are not only individually splendid, but the ensemble is altogether electrifying. The Soprano is quite unique both in volume of tone and in facility of execution, while the Basso is more like the delicious tones of the late Mr. Holmes's bassoon, than any thing we bave heard. In some future number we shall, probably, enter into particulars—in the meantime, we would counsel all the real lovers of music to hear these foreigners. After hearing them they will perhaps be taught to understand the reason why music is so much a ruling passion in Germany,

ANOTHER COMPLAINT OF A SEMPSTRESS.

The following epistle has been just received, it will speak for itself :

Dear Mr. Day.- Since you have so readily attended to the “ complaint" of sister Letitia,* touching the miss-demeavours of certain seamstresses, t you surely cannot refuse bestowing on me the same gallantry, by inserting my complaint-touching the man-æuvres of nearly the whole tribe of the Puppy-race. I dare say you smoke me, as the phrase goes. Well, then, 'tis of the cigar smokers, who infest our streets, that I wish to speak; for, do you know, that as Letitia was “shocked” at exposing her baby-linen to the view of “several gentlemen!" so am I like to be choked by the fume that issues from the mouths of these fire-brands! If they will make a public parade that they can smoke a cigar, why don't you, in virtue of your office, pronounce the “order of the Day,compelling them to keep the iniddle of the street, in place of strutting on the pave, to the great annoyance of Your no less ardent admirer,

AMELIA SEMPSTRESS ? Curlton Place, Saturday evening.

P. S.--I expect to have the pleasure of seeing you, i. e. The Day,” to breakfast, to-morrow morning.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. The communication of “ T. S. P.” has been received, and will be submitted to the judgment of the Board.

“ Queen Scio" is under consideration.

The letter from “ Victor Vitruvius, M. G. D. S.” will appear some day this week.

“ The Present State of Parties” will appear to-morrow.

* Won't some of your odd friends, one of these Days, bestir themselves in inditing an Ode entitled, “Letitia's Complaint ?" Nous verrons.

+ You must know, that the Sempstresses and the Seamstresses, are quite distinct families. The former adopt the needle as a pastime, the latter apply to it for a livelihood.

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LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. A new French and English Pronouncing Dictionary, on the Basis of Nugent, with many new words in general use, in two parts, I. French and English, II. English and French, to which are prefixed, Principles of French Pronunciation, and an Abridged Grammar, by F. C. MEADOWES, M. A. of the Uni. versity of Paris, will be published immediately.

Mr. Charles MACFARLANE proposes to publish, by subscription, a Description of the Present State of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor, to be illustrated by seven etchings, by Mr. Thomas Kuox, from Views taken on the spot.

A new Novel, to be called Stanley Buxton, or the Schoolfellows, is preparing by Mr. Galt.

“ The Double Trial, or the consequences of an Irish Clearing,” a Tale of the present Day, by the Rev. C. Lucas, is nearly ready.

“ The Chameleon brought to the Light of Day," is in the Press, and will be published this week.

GLASGOW: Published every Morning, Sanday ex

cepted, by Joux WYLIE, at the British and Foreign Library, 97, Argyle Street, Glasgow : STILLIES BROTHERS, Librarians, High Street, and Thos. STEVENSON, Edinburgh: DAVID Dick, Bookseller, Paisley : John Hislop, Greenock; and J. Glass, Bookseller, Rothsay.-And Printed by Johx GRAHAM, Melville Place.

THE DAY

A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.

CARPE DIEM.

GLASGOW, TUESDAY, JANUARY 24, 1832.

THE PRESENT STATE OF PARTIES.

ter in dispute, so much as of its collateral effects.

The African traders were averse to the extinction of In a former number, we offered a few remarks on the the slave traffic, and persuaded themselves—re duce origin and position of the different political parties. bat a halfpenny less on the pound of sugar was a good We shall now attempt to trace the effects of party moral ground for continuing a commerce which was a spirit on social life.

disgrace to our common nature ; and the abolitionists of One of the most evident consequences, of the free- the present day quote Scripture to prove, that acts of dom of the press in this country, is the diffusion of Parliament are not worth waste paper, and that a mapolitical intelligence, and the conversion of all orders jority in the House of Commons will compensate for of men into political reasoners. At one period in the colonial ruin and alienation. Now, as regards politics, history of the world, and that not very remote, politics nothing can be more certain than that for one man was called a science, and its deductions were thought who, by his talents, studies, or opportunities, is qualito be somewhat recondite and subtle, though it be fied to pass a sound opinion upon a great state quesmore than questionable, whether any purely abstract po- tion, ten thousand, at least, are not so; and yet, in litical principle has ever been discovered, in which time these times, nothing would be more bopeless than an has not rather tended to diminish, than to increase our attempt to render this an acceptable article of belief in confidence. This, however, is not the general opinion, common life. The great object of the leaders of the and, as the masters of the public press (the only real press has been—not to set forth the truth, or what tyrants, by the way, of whose existence we know any they esteemed to be such—but the dogmas of their thing in these islands,) have a direct interest in upbold respective factions; and, as men of imperfect informaing an opposite belief, it is not very likely that it will tion are not only prone to take up general views, howspeedily prevail. By the majority who derive theirknow- ever little these may be warranted by their premises, ledge of abstract truths from the daily and weekly cater- and as it saves both time and trouble to adopt readyers for the general appetite, it is not demanded whether made conclusions, instead of searching out the grounds the oracles who generously take the trouble of think- on which these could be made by ourselves, it is not ing for the community, have really any principles of wonderful that, on political subjects, the tendency their own to support, much less to inculcate. The should be towards extremes, not towards means. To constantly recurring tergiversations, and the obvious a man who attempts to estimate the causes which paralogisms of the mighty men of the fourth estate, are, influence the prosperity of states, and the rise and for the most part, unnoticed and unknown. The reason- downfall of nations, nothing seems so difficult. At ings of one week are followed by the counter-reason- every step bis progress is embarrassed by so many ings of another, and the entire mass of sophistical rub- cross and intricate considerations, that certainty in his bish, volventibus annis, finds a common tomb, where it results becomes unattainable. A glimpse of the truth sleeps as profoundly as if it had been dipped in the he may occasionally get, but a full view of it he never waters of Lethe. The good-natured thing called the can; and it may always be observed, that the conclu. public, however, makes no exceptions to all this mum- sions of a philosophical mind on points of this kind are mery. It requires a certain quantity of reading on both cautiously given, and guardedly worded. But, if you sides of the question, and so long as this desire lasts, ask a political weaver what he thinks of these matin good sooth, it were a pity not to gratify it. Though ters, he has no difficulties at all. The whole thing political parties be virtually extinct in Great Britain, is as patent to his vision as the sun in the firmament; therefore, it never can happen that all appearance of and, with the confidence of thorough conviction, he unopposition shall subside. The passing topics of the ravels the mysteries with the same ease as King Gorday will always afford abundant materials for difference dius's knot was cut asunder by Alexander's sword. It of opinion; besides, political quietism would starve an signifies not what the subject is. The Corn-laws-Free interesting and sleek class of gentlemen, who know trade-Colonial policy-Reform—are alike indifferent full well the value of a little well-timed agitation, to the disciple of the march-of-intellect school. The and would induce something like a torpor of the nation- fears and scruples of statesmen he treats with utter al mind. Under the empire of reason and moderation, scorn, as the squeamish misgivings of weak minds; vulgar ambition would be repressed, and the wretched and, it is obvious from the whole bearing of the man, compound of buffoonery and bombast, misnamed elo- that one idea is predominant in his mind, namely, that quence, would be totally extinguished. Public dinners he, and be alone, should be at the head of affairs. would fall into desuetude, and, in the general ruin, the

ene To some minds, this preposterous folly may seem a muddled orators, who resemble Demosthenes in nothing light thing; to our view, however, it is much otherbat in speaking thick, and the spruce persons who do wise. No man, who is conversant with the present the ancient office of tapsters, would be involved. Na- state of feeling in the West of Scotland, can fail to tional bankruptcy and revolution are the lesser horrors, know, that the melancholy delusion which we have and will doubtlessly be preferred. This being so, let binted at is not confined to a corner. It is the comus inquire in what shape we are benefitted in our social mon and popular creed of the country, and that it has capacities, by a love of political discussion, and the led, and is leading, to much mischief cannot be doubtperpetuation of political animosities.

ed. We say nothing of the absurdity of the thing We think it will not be denied to us, that an itself; but, in looking at its consequences, we feel the exclusive and invincible attachment to one mode of deepest uneasiness.

deepest uneasiness. In the first place, it tends to belief, on any subject whatever, the merits of which create imaginary causes of discontent, and to increase are still open to discussion, is necessarily significant the interval which separates the wealthier from the of personal interest or of ignorance—not of the mat- poorer classes of society; and, in the second place, by

are

diverting the attention of a man of huinble rank from tendencies, which, we need not remind them, his proper avocations, it leads direotly to the aoquisi

emollire mores. tion of habits of the most winous kind. The state of In conolusion, we would indulge the hope that the the country now, as compared with what it was twenty splendid subscriptions which have been collected within years ago, when we were the carriers of the world, is a few weeks, to provide for the wants and diseases of not taken into consideration ; neither is the necessity the poor, will satisfy the discontented among that of preserving public credit, on which our existence, as class that, whatever political quacks inay say to the a nation, depends; but, every thing connected with contrary, the monied men of Glasgow, of all parties, the effects of foreign rivalry, excess of population, and are deeply sensible of the claims which their less of over-productive power, is ascribed to acts of mis- amply provided brethren have on them; while we government, which, were trade brisk, would never be suggest to the members of the community generally, heard of; and, to remedy all imperfections, some ge

whether it would not be becoming, at this particular neral panacea is proposed, which, like the balm of time, when the scourge of pestilence is hanging over Gilead, is a cure for all diseases. Nothing, certainly, the land, to suspend party passions, and allow the can be more distressing to a humane mind, than the benevolent sympathies of the heart to have free and condition to which the manufacturing population is at

full issue. present reduced; and the statement which lately appeared in a contemporary print, (Glasgow Chronicle)

BERLIN DURING THE CHOLERA. of the sufferings of the poor in a neighbouring town, must have affected every sensible heart with the deep- Berlin is not a whit changed since this sickness came among us. est sorrow : still, political mania, and impotent politi- If you walk out in the morning, at mid-day, or in the afternoon, cal nostrums, will not eure this state of things, the there is still the usual stream of human beings along the Linden, causes of which lie deep in the bosom of society, and

and in the Königstrasse, people do not hurry faster than before seem, unfortunately, to be inseparably associated with

aloog the bustling Frederick Street, nov move on at a slower pace the general elements of our national prosperity. But,

through the quiet and spacious Leipsic Street. They stop and enif a working man once persuade himself that his own

ter into conversation just as willingly as ever; and where two or depression is owing to the unjust acts of the general

three are met together at a corner, in an instant, they are joined government, his mind becomes seared against all convic,

by a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth ; and we soon have what we Bertion to the contrary. Like the madman in his phrenzy,

liners call a crowd-a crowd, as usual, no one knows what who fancies himself a king, and who hugs bis delusion

about. so firmly as to demand the homage due to royalty, he

People are just as fond of joking as they used to be they joke can think and speak of nothing else. Others, he finds,

now even about death. are similarly predisposed. They meet—they talk

They still, as before, delight to talk on the topic of the day-they adjourn. The miserable earnings of the most

the one fashionable topic-which is discussed as zealously, and at grinding labour, are consumed in discussing questions quite beyond the reach of their knowledge. Habits as great length as ever ; in the streets, in society, at the Theatre

, of intemperance and profusion are engendered—wives you bear the same subject—and, for the present, this subject is and ehildren are neglected—and a deserted family, or

the Cholera. Even now, as before, wen wish the endless theme a murdered friend, closes the career of ruin, which were exhausted, and something new in its place. political passion entails on its victim! Let no man say In Berlin we have had witticisms on all subjects on the this picture is overcharged. We know that it is not; Horse- Artillery Barracks

on the turn-out of the tailors on the and, did we desire a striking proof of the fact, we Sonntag- and on the departed Diebitsch ; so much wit, that a book might refer to the fate of the unfortunate person who might be printed on every separate subject. We still are un. suffered on Wednesday last, in this city, and the cause changed. A book of smart sayings might be collected under the of whose melancholy death was a scuffle brought on the title of “ Cholera Wit.” And is there, then, nothing changed? by a discussion on the Reform Bill.

The gentlemen now wear cloaks, though the weather is yet So far as the upper ranks are concerned, we consider

warm; and at night they hold a handkerchief to their mouth. the introduction of party politics, in a mixed society, as Besides, there are conversations on Cholera belts and worsted impertinent. When men meet together at the board of a

stockings on the bad effects of night-air, and what we should eat common friend, there should be no invidious ground of

and what abstain from. distinction instituted, which must ensue, if party politics

There is another notable change. The poor have now on their tabe discussed. In all arguments on these knotty points,

bles the rejected food of the rich—melons and costly fish ; poor we have invariably remarked that passion and voci

people-poor indeed; for labour is now as low as every thing feration

pass

for proof. No truth is elicited, and no information gained, but much angry and disagreeable

else : but that is nothing new-every year complains of low

prices. feeling is excited. At present, it is a melancholy fact

In my walk, I remarked yet one greater change than all these. that many men, who have a sincere respect for each other, dare not venture into society, from a conscious

People are now become so kind and friendly in their intercourse! ness that something would occur which might dimi

How warmly they salute and squeeze your band, and lock tennish their mutual regard ; nor is it uncommon to find

derly upon you-wish you a very good morning, and a happy father and son, and even brothers, at issue on politics at

meeting again! How conversation flies along! One, would this moment. This is a dreadful state of matters, and,

think all the world had become intimate friends. 'Tis but yesdid we not feel that the excitement must soon wear

terday the same men kept out of each other's way, grudged a saitself out, would necessarily create great uneasiness. lute if they met, and tried to pass without speaking-grumbling, We sincerely hope, however, that a return to modera- each to bimself, God be praised, the wearisome fellow has not fas. tion will speedily take place, and that men of educa- tened upon me! Has Cholera, then, banished all bores from the tion, and of polished manners, will see the folly of de. world? That were no bad thing in Cholera ! secrating the sacred altar of private life, by the noise You may now smoke on the street, and yet no house takes fire. and nonsense of party politics. May we beg of them It seems our police and gens-d'armes have a sipecure. to remember that a period of great national depression and commotion is not the time which wise men • The above article is translated expressly for The “ Das," should choose for creating or increasing paltry feuds. from the last Number of the Berlin Conversation's Blatt, which The elements of society are, at this moment, in a

has reached this country. We may mention, that we have made state of unusual agitation; and now, probably, more

arrangements to present our readers with the latest Literary Inthan at any period in the history of Great Britain, is

telligence from Germany, and to favour them occasionally with

the most interesting papers that appear in the German Journals, it peculiarly, incumbent on persons who have enjoyed whicha Mr. John Reid, of this city, receives regularly from the the benefits of liberal instruction, to shew their practical Continent,

Besides this smoking and these friendly greetings, another cbange struck me--something quite new. A fair-haired boy was amusing himself—making figures of soft clay, and cutting a piece of wood. That is nothing strange; but what do you think he was making ?-A coffin !-and with all the glee in the world he cried, “ Şister, I must now have a dead man, and then all will be ready ;" and to work he set with his clay, and in a minute had the dead man. I went a little fartber, where some bigger children were at play. One wheeled the other in a barrow, and the lad in the barrow was swaddled about with handkerchiefs, and lay most demurely quiet. “ What game are you playing at ?" cried I.* We are playing Cholera," was the answer. "This, to be sure, was new in Berlin.

THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL AT PARIS.

learn music, dancing, and all the other accessories of the dramatic art, in a theatre which they have themselves constructed. This hospital was the first to which Napoleon sent a guard, on the very evening of his entrance into Moscow.

“ In France, scarcely have the foundlings passed the age of childhood, when they are dismissed from the hospital. They are dispersed, whether they will or not, among the lowest classes, with the present of an imperfeet education ; and if one of them should, under his homely garments, feel the thrill of genius, and try to wrench off the belot's collar, bis choice would still be confined to the alternatives of a plane, a spade, or starvation.

“ If I were to say, that not one-half grow up to reap this in. heritance, poor as it is, and that the remainder die from the privation of a mother's milk, the uncertainty of science, and the infection of loathsome diseases, I should be far within the mark. At the present day, nearly three-fifths of the foundlings die in their first year. A fourth of the newly-born children perish during the first five days, and more than two-thirds after the first month. Five years after the day on which eight children had been depo. sited at ihe hospital, only three of them would be found alive. Extend the time to twelve years, and there is only one survivor. It is lamentable to think, that the efforts of art and those of administration are powerless in averting this deplorable mortality. It is, however, some consolation to learn, that the number of deaths decreases daily, and that the mortality of the hospital, at present, bears no proportion to what it was forty years ago ; a single fact will prove this. Now-a-days, convenient carriages bring nurses to Paris from the country, and each department has its foundling hospital. But can it be credited that, prior to the revolution, the hospital in the metropolis was the only one in the kingdom, from all parts of which children were brought to Paris to receive a life ticket, wbich oftener turned out a certificate for death! A porter walked through the proviuces, carrying upon his back a padded box containing three newly-born babes placed upright in it, supported by wadding, and breathing through a hole in the lid. This man quietly wended his way towards Paris, careless of dust, mud, the mid-day sun, or the bustle of inns. Now and then he stopped to take his meals and make his young companions suck a little milk, On opening the box, he sometimes found one of them dead. When this happened, he would throw the body by the road side and continue his journey with the remainder. On his arrival, he got a receipt for the goods delivered, without being answerable for accidents on the road."

ORIGINAL POETRY.

Twe following is an interesting sketch of the Enfans Trouvés at Paris is from the pen of Delries, and is translated from the celebrated volume of the “ Livre des Cent-et-un,” lately published :

“ No public edifice ever presented an appearance more in opposition to the painful reflections its mere existence gives rise to, than the Foundling Hospital. You expect on entering nothing but tears and disgust, and yet you scarcely hear the cries of the newly-born babes—you expect matter for dark philosophical emotion, and you see nothing around you but flowers, good grey sisters, snow-white curtains and crucifixes-to which you may add the fruits of weakness, perhaps of crime. You walk between two rows of cradles, as in a flower garden ; only in the latter, nature gives to the orphan plants their proper nurture.

Here you may see beads with flowing yellow ringlets, angel faces, a room poetically called the crib, a pretty little chapel, and a dissecting room. This editice was formerly a convent of Oratorians; it is now a Foundling Hospital—there are two centuries between these naines. There is nothing remarkable in the building itself; it is like a college, a manufactory, a house in the street, or your father's house. But I had almost forgotten a statue which you salute on entering. Vincent de Paule* keeps watch in the vestibule of his temple; the same Vincent de Paule whose evengelical and philanthropic zeal saved the lives of at least one-fifth part of the popu lation now treading upon his grave. His contemporaries put his name into the Almanack;-Napoleon would have made him a minister of state.”

« On arriving at the outer door, I was struck with a sort of box or cupboard with a double opening, one towards the street, and the other inside the building. It was much like the letterbax at a post office, and the comparison is strengthened when we cou sider that a mother often dropped her child into it as she would a billet-dour, with this sbade of difference, that the billet began the intrigue, and the child ended it. This box or cupboard is no longer used. Formerly the unhappy mother deposited there, mysteriously and at night, her new born babe; then, after ringing the bell to awaken the sister on duty, she disappeared-her tears and her remorse still heard in the surrounding darkness. It is different now-a singular abuse compelled the change. Dead bodies of children were often found in the cupboard, put there either to avoid the expense of burial or to conceal a crime. The Toode of defrauding the guillotine and the undertaker,t no longer exists. A sister sits up all night at the entrance of the parloir, and receives from the band the children that are brought to the hospital during her watch. The cupboard is closed, and its lock rusty--mishaps are thought less of than formerly. Whether the child be born in a boudoir or in a garret, it is now a mere family affair, and amicably adjusted. The infant is taken to the hospital at noon day; it is even recommended to the kind attention of the sisters ; its father's name is carefully repeated, and after a few tears the whole is forgotten. If subsequently the unhappy babe cry, expire, be cut to pieces by the anatomist, and its severed limbs sewn up in a canvas bag, and consigned without ceremony to the earth, no matter ; family honour is safe ; the mother goes either to a ball or to the Salpetrière ;£ civilization continues its progress ; surgical knowledge excites admiration, and we have lectures on political economy at the university. All this is admirable !"

A PRETTY CAP FOR THE PRETTY HEAD WHICH IT FITS

MEETEST.
Could Love impart,
By nicest art,
To speechless rocks a tongue-
Their theme would be,
Beloved, of thee,
Thy beauty, all their song,
And, clerklike, then,
With sweet amen,
Would Echo from each bollow
Reply all day;
While gentle fay,
With merry whoop, would follow.
Had roses sense,
On no pretence,
Would they their buds unroll ;
For, could they speak,
'Twas from thy cbeek
Their daintiest blush they stole.
Had lilies eyes,
With glad surprise,
They'd own themselves outdone,
When thy pure brow,
And neck of snow,
Gleamed in the morning sun.
Could shining brooks,
By am'rous looks
Be taught a voice so rare,
Then, every sound,
That murmured round,
Would whisper, “ Thou art fair."
Could winds be fraught
With pensive thought,
At midnight's solemn hour,
Then every wood,
In gleeful mood,
Would own thy beauty's power.
And, could the sky
Behold thine eye,
So filled with love and light,
In jealous haste,
Thou soon wert placed
To star the cope of Night!

" In London, the education of these orphan children partakes of the Franklin school, and of the hospitality of an industrious people. Correct manners, and even morals, are instilled into them ; wbich is rare with us. I must add that the mothers are obliged to appear, prior to their accouchement, and declare their pregnancy, and although their names escape the dishonour of being registered, the shame of appearing before band, deters all but the most wretched and the most abandoned from availing themselves of the charity. In Russia and at Naples, the natural dispositions of the children are consulted before their future calling is decided upon, and at Moscow there is an hospital where the foundlings

* The founder. + In Paris funerals are a monopoly, termed les pompes funebres, and farmed out by the government.

# A Prison for Cyprians.

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