hit off her character to a hair-be wise, witty, fanciful, or foolish, love or hate, contemn or admire. But all the shrewdness in Glasgow, all the learning in Oxford, all the subtlety of Sorbonne, all the dark depths of Germany, where truth lies hidden in a well, inscrutable to mortal sense, could not enable you to do any one of these all-important things one atom better than your natural gifts admit of.

But here, we fancy ourself to hear some one ask; is it then to be concluded that all philosophy is but a fiction got up between the pedant and the publisher to impose upon the purses of mankind. No such thing-the publishers know better and so do the pub. lic. No one is imposed upon but the luckless wight who has wasted his life in trying to be wiser than the rest of the world. Few will be found to believe fewer to read, and fewest to buy. The world will infallibly write him down an ass-without troubling itself to stand one single instant puzzling about the matter.

We are ourself not quite so uncharitable, having, if it must be confessed, when very young, been once betrayed into such readings; and it excited our admiration to notice how much labor and time were so curiously wasted in searching for what every body knows, or what has no existence-and is at the very highest a grain of wheat in a bushel of chaff. We may indeed sum the whole of our discoveries in these sage books, in the Poet's just and admirable maxim which should be inscribed in golden letters over the gates of all universities in Europe

"And thinking but an idle waste of thought." Having discoursed thus far, upon this unprofitable study, we must now, with like distinctness, explain that which we propose to substitute for it. It is then, our opinion, that all such knowledge as can be usefully brought to bear on life, must be derived from the observation of its phenomena. Instead of commencing, like some well-known authorities, with the oyster, and elaborately tracing from this simple stage of animal existence, to the more complex combinations of two-legged unfeathered humanity, we take our stand at once among the visible and audible scenes of life; the street-the fire-side-the assembly-and, like the Athenian, bring down philosophy from the tenth heaven, into the haunts of men. Uniting the sagacity of Socrates, the shrewd

sarcasm of Diogenes, the pathos of Heraclitus, and the laughter-moving drollery of Democritus, as occasion may require, we shall then develope our stores of accumulated observation into a well-digested philosophy. This we promise, shall be as a faithful mirror in which the moving world shall be reflected, and to which every one may come to take a peep at her own lovely face.

As we are most especially anxious to avoid being for an instant confounded with that class, whose utter absurdity we have so precisely demonstrated, we shall take care to be as unlike them as possible in all things. And as it has always been the custom for these gentlemen to discuss the most insignificant absurdity, as if it were matter of the most solemn importance; we shall, on the contrary, settle the profoundest questions, and irrefragably establish upon immortal foundations, the most vital truths, with the most apparent unconsciousness of being more deep than our neighbours. We shall use our wisdom, as Newton is said to have used his fluxionary calculus : having by the deepest reasoning discovered our conclusious, we shall explain them by a simpler method to the rest of the world. We shall vary at every page from the sublime to the closely bordering limit of the grotesque

from the laughable to the patheticfrom the light to the profound: as the subject may require we shall be poetically luxuriant or dryly sententious. One thing we must seriously promise, that every reader must not expect to find our whole meaning always quite apparent on the surface-this would obviously be inconsistent with having much meaning. It must be ever recollected that reality has its depths as well as invention its obscurities. It is therefore to be recommended to our more youthful students; however frivolous a remark may seem, to trust that it means more than meets the ear of inexperience, and patiently to read on to the end of the next page. If he should not find it there, we assure him that when he is a few months older, a second perusal will change his mind. If this will not do, we must refer him to posterity; which, it is presumed, will always appreciate rightly what the present age cannot understand.

The person who pretends to be wiser than the rest of mankind, has no business with the affectation of superior modesty. Yet, strange to say, the

most inordinate pretenders are those who have affected this virtue the most. We utterly reject this impudent pretension-this nolo episcopari of authorship. We have no notion of dressing our philosophy in the blushing attire of self-convicted folly, and hanging our heads before those we offer to instruct.

We must, therefore, in concluding this introduction, endeavour to convey some distinct notion of our qualifications and personal character.

If the reader is a frequenter of public places he has of course often particularly noted a tall, slight-built, darklooking gentleman, with a pale and sallow, but singularly expressive faceof whom it might be said with truth, that being once seen, he cannot easily be forgotten. This is ourself. We commonly walk the streets, having our head bent a little forward, and very slightly (for we avoid exaggerations) inclined towards our right or left shoulder, our lip yet quivers with the movement of some recent emotion, or is compressed with the energy of tacit thought our eye betrays the quick observer. At moments a smile, indicating shrewd, but not ill-natured remark, stands tiptoe on our cheek, or plays with unsettled purpose round the corners of our mouth and last, a slight triple furrow between our brows,

marks that habitual intensity of intellectual concentration, which must belong to one who looks through and through the deeds of men. In a word, by thinking of the "lean and hungry Cassius," the reader may do us justice in many respects.

Such is the semblance of our outward man. Our study is the world: men and women are our books; our ponderous folios and our light, ornamented octavos-our sermons and jestbooks; our tragic volumes and gay romances, all written in the same old universal language, which pedant cannot teach, or dull pretender read.

Often have we stood in the marketplace-and while, to vulgar eye, we seemed to be pondering the merits of a cauliflower-in reality read off whole chapters of moral truth, such as might well astonish the deepest academic into the confession of helpless ignorance. Still more frequently are we seen in crowded theatre, or thronged exhibition, observing nature, not art, and intently watching the play of feeling or thought upon the surrounding galaxy of bright eyes. Philosophy, as Lord Brougham has observed, has its pleasures as well as its advantages. Of this we shall have to exhibit numberless illustrations in the progress of our discourse.

J. U. U.

Ir was on a splendid morning in the autumn of the year 181-, the Howard transport, with four hundred of his Majesty's 4-th Regt. dropped anchor in the beautiful harbour of Cove; the sea shone under the purple light of the rising sun with a rich rosy hue, beautifully in contrast with the different tints of the foliage of the deep woods already tinged with the brown of autumn. Spike Island lay "sleeping upon its broad shadow," and the large ensign which crowns the battery was wrapped around the flag-staff, there not being even air enough to stir it. It was still so early, that but few persons were abroad; and as we leaned over the bulwarks, and looked now, for the first time for eight long years, upon British ground, many an eye filled, and many a heaving breast told how full of recollections that short moment was, and how different our feelings from the gay buoyancy with which we had sailed from that same harbour for the Peninsula; many of our best and bravest had we left behind us, and more than one, native to the land we were approaching had found his last rest in the soil of the stranger. It was, then, with a mingled sense of pain and pleasure, we gazed upon that peaceful little village, whose white cottages lay dotted along the edge of the harbour. The moody silence our thoughts had shed over us was soon broken the preparations for disembarking had begun, and I recollect well to this hour how, shaking off the load that oppressed my heart, I descended the gangway, humming poor Wolfe's well

known song

"Why, soldiers, why

Should we be melancholy, boys ?" And to this elasticity of spirits, whether the result of my profession, or the gift of God-as Dogberry has it-I know not, I owe the greater portion of the VOL. IX.

happiness I have enjoyed in a life, whose changes and vicissitudes have equalled most men's.

Drawn up in a line along the shore, I could scarce refrain from a smile at our appearance. Four weeks on board a transport will certainly not contribute much to the "personel" of any unfortunate therein confined; but when, in addition to this, you take into account that we had not received new clothes for three years-if I except caps for our grenadiers, originally intended for a Scotch regiment, but found to be all too small for the long-headed generation. Many a patch of brown and grey, variegated the faded scarlet, and scarcely a pair of knees in the entire regiment did not confess their obligations to a blanket. But with all this, we showed a stout weather-beaten front, that, disposed as the passer-by might feel to a laugh at our expense, very little caution would teach him it was fully as safe to indulge it in his sleeve.

The bells from every steeple and tower rung gaily out a peal of welcome as we marched into "that beautiful city called Cork," our band playing "Garryowen"

for we had been originally raised in Ireland, and still among our officers maintained a strong majority from that land of punch, priests, and potatoesthe tattered flag of the regiment proudly waving over our heads, and not a man amongst us whose warm heart did not bound behind a Waterloo medal. Wellwell! I am now-alas that I should say it-somewhat in the "sear and yellow;" and I confess, after the experience of some moments of high, triumphant feeling, that I never before felt within me, the same animating, spirit-filling glow of delight as rose within my heart that day, as I marched at the head of my company down George'sstreet.

L

First of all, we were dined by the citizens of Cork-and, to do them justice, a harder drinking set of gentlemen no city need boast; then we were feasted by the corporation; then by the sheriffs; then came the mayor solus; then an address, with a cold collation, that left eight of us on the sick list for a fortnight: but the climax of all was a grand entertainment given in the mansion-house, and to which upwards of two thousand were invited. It was a species of fancy ball, beginning by a dejeunè at three o'clock in the afternoon, and ending-I never yet met the man who could tell when it ended; as for myself, my finale partook a little of the adventurous, and I may as well relate it.

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After waltzing for about an hour with one of the prettiest girls I ever set eyes upon, and a tender squeeze of the hand as I restored her to a most affable-looking old lady in a blue turban and a red velvet gown, who smiled most benignly on me, and called me "Meejor," I retired to recruit for a new attack, to a small table, where three of ours were quaffing "ponche a la Romaine," with a crowd of Corkagians about them eagerly inquiring after some heroes of their own city, whose deeds of arms they were surprised did not obtain special mention from "the Duke." I soon ingratiated myself into this well-occupied clique, and dosed them with glory to their hearts' content. I resolved at once to enter into their humour; and as the "ponche" mounted up to my brain I gradually found my acquaintanceship extend to every family and connexion in the country.

"Did ye know Phil. Beamish of the 3-th, Sir" said a tall, red-faced, redwhiskered, well-looking gentleman, who bore no small resemblance to Fergus O'Connor.

"Phil. Beamish !" said I. Indeed I did, Sir, and do still; and there is not a man in the British army I am prouder of knowing." Here, by the way, I may

Why, as to the company, that was remarkable enough!" said I, quaffing off a tumbler of champagne, to assist my invention. "You know it was about four o'clock in the afternoon of the 18th that Napoleon ordered Grouchy to advance with the first and second brigade of the Old Guard and two regiments of chasseurs, and dislodge the position occupied by Picton and the regiments under his command. Well, Sir, on they came, masked by the smoke of a terrific discharge of artillery, stationed on a small eminence to our left, and which did tremendous execution among our poor fellows-on they came, Sir; and as the smoke cleared partially away we got a glimpse of them, and a more dangerous looking set I would not desire to see: grizzlebearded, hard-featured, bronzed fellows, about five-and-thirty or forty years of age; their beauty not a whit improved by the red glare thrown upon their faces and along the whole line by each flash of the long twenty-fours that were playing away to the right. Just at this moment Picton rode down the line with his staff, and stopping within a few paces of me, said, "They're coming up: steady, boys; steady now: we shall have something to do soon. And then, turning sharply round, he looked in the direction of the French battery, that was thundering away again in full force, "Ah, that must be silenced," said he. "Where's Beamish?"

Says Picton!" interrupted Fergus, his eyes starting from their sockets, and his mouth growing wider every moment, as he listened with the most intense interest. "Yes," said I, slowly; and then, with all the provoking nonchalance of an Italian improvisatore, who always halts at the most exciting point of his narrative, I begged a listener near me to fill my glass from the iced punch beside him. Not a sound was heard

as I lifted the bumper to my lips; all were breathless in their wound-up anxiety to hear of their countryman who had been selected by Picton-for what, too, they knew not yet. And, indeed, at this instant I did not know myself, and nearly laughed outright, for the two of ours who had remained at the table had so well employed their interval of ease as to become very pleasantly drunk, and were listening to my confounded story with all the gravity and seriousness in the world. Where's Beamish ?" said Picton. 'Here, Sir,' said Phil. stepping out from the line, and touching his cap to the General, who, taking him apart for a few minutes, spoke to him with great animation. We did not know what he said; but before five minutes were over, there was Phil. with three companies of light-bobs drawn up at our left; their muskets at the charge, they set off at a round trot down the little steep which closed our flank. We had not much time to follow their movements, for our own amusement began soon; but I well remember, after repelling the French attack, and standing in square against two heavy charges of cuirassiers, the first thing I saw where the French battery had stood was Phil. Beamish and about a handful of brave fellows, all that remained from the skirmish. He captured two of the enemy's field-pieces, and was 'Captain Beamish' on the day after."

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Long life to him," said at least a dozen voices behind and about me, while a general clinking of decanters and smacking of lips betokened that Phil's health with all the honours was being celebrated. For myself, I was really so engrossed by my narrative, and so excited by the "ponche," that I saw or heard very little of what was passing around, and have only a kind of dim recollection of being seized by the hand by "Fergus," who was Beamish's brother, and who, in the fuluess of his heart, would have hugged me to his breast, if I had not opportunely been so overpowered as to fall senseless under the table.

had been put there by another, I know not, but it certainly cut a droll figure. The room we were in was a small one, off the great saloon, and through the half open foiding door I could clearly perceive that the festivities were still continued. The crash of fiddles and French horns, and the tramp of feet, which had lost much of their elasticity since the entertainments began, rang through my ears, mingled with the sounds "down the middle," "hands across," "here's your partner, Captain," What hour of the night or morning it then was, I could not guess; but certainly the vigour of the party seemed little abated, if I might judge from the specimen before me, and the testimony of a short plethoric gentleman, who stood wiping his bald head, after conducting his partner down twenty-eight couple, and who, turning to his friend, said, "Oh, the distance is nothing, but it is the pace that kills."

The first evidence I announced of any return to reason, was a strong anxiety to be at my quarters; but how to get there I knew not. The faint glimmering of sense I possessed told me that "to stand was to fall," and I was ashamed to go all-fours, which prudence suggested.

At this moment I remembered I had brought with me my cane, which, from a perhaps pardonable vanity, I was fond of parading. It was a present from the officers of my regiment-many of them, alas, since dead-and had a most splendid gold head, with a stag at the top, the arms of the regiment. This I would not have lost for any consideration I can mention; and this now was gone! I looked around me on every side; I groped beneath the table; turned the sleeping sots who lay about in no very gentle fashion: but, alas, it was gone. I sprang to my fect, and only then remembered how unfit I was to follow up the search, as tables, chairs, lights, and people seemed all rocking and waving before me. However, I succeeded in making my way, through one room into another, sometimes guiding my steps along the walls; and once, as I recollect, seeking the diagonal of a room, I bisected a quadrille with such ill-directed speed, as to run foul of a Cork dandy and his partner who were just performing the en avant: but though I saw thein lie tumbled in the dust by the shock of my encounter-for I had upset them—I still held on the even tenor of my way. In fact, I had feel