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adopting the same course of expediency; and still more in setting himself in opposition to the public feeling. He was the more called upon in prudence to endeavour to as just observed, at all popular; a fact of which he must, of course, have been well aware, as he found it necessary, for his own personal safety, to quit France at the outset of the Revolution; and when he subsequently returned he must also have known that he was mainly indebted to his brother, and then Sovereign, for any share of public approBe-bation. The Comte d'Artois, when compelled to quit France, visited the court of his father-in law, the King of Sardinia, at Turin, and subsequently other parts of Europe, but at length sought an asylum in England, where he resided for a considerable period. Becoming deeply involved in pecuniary embarrassments, and some of his creditors being very clamorous and urgent, it was found necessary to assign him, as it were, a refuge; and Holyrood House, Ed. inburgh, being a privileged place, where the stern ministers of the law could not enter for the purpose of enforcing pecuniary claims, it was fixed upon by the British Government as a residence for the Comte, and some of his family, as he might be there enabled to live without molestation. In this respect also the characters of the two surviving THIS ill-advised and misguided Prince was born the 9th brothers were strongly contrasted-Louis XVIII. contrived October, 1757; he was the youngest of the three brothers, to live at Hartwell, in Buckinghamshire, without being who have successively sat upon the throne of France, (with subject to any of the inconveniences just alluded to, and the short interruption of the nominal reign of Louis maintaining a character which was always considered highXVII.) namely, Louis XVI., Monsieur, afterwards Louisly respectable, whilst his personal conduct conciliated the XVIII., and the subject of the present article, who was styled the Comte d'Artois, and continued to be so called in general, up to the period of the restoration of the Bour-other hand, was by no means liked; there was a hauteur in bons, and the enthronement of Louis XVIII., when, according to the formal and ancient usage of the French Court, he was styled Monsieur, being then the next brother of the reigning monarch.

Granada. In listening to these evening gossipings I have picked up many curious facts, illustrative of the manners of the people and the peculiarities of the neighbourhood. These are simple details of simple pleasures; it is the na-conciliate the people, the Comte d'Artois never having been, ture of the place alone that gives them interest and importance. I tread haunted ground, and am surrounded by romantic associations. From earliest boyhood, when, on the banks of the Hudson, I first pored over the pages of an old Spanish story about the wars of Granada, that city has ever been a subject of my waking dreams; and often have I trod in fancy the romantic halls of the Alhambra. hold for once a day-dream realized; yet I can scarcely cre. dit my senses, or believe that I do indeed inhabit the palace of Boabdil, and look down from its balconies upon chivalric Granada. As I loiter through these Oriental chambers, and hear the murmur of fountains and the song of the nightingale; as I inhale the odour of the rose, and feel the influence of the balmy climate, I am almost tempted to fancy myself in the paradise of Mahomet, and that the plump little Dolores is one of the bright-eyed houris, destined to administer to the happiness of true believers.

BRIEF NOTICE OF OUR LATE ROYAL NEIGHBOUR,
CHARLES X.

The Comte d'Artois was married on the 17th November, 1773, to the Princess Maria Theresa, daughter of Victor Amadeus, third king of Sardinia, and sister to the consort of Louis XVIII., at which period he was only in the 17th year of his age. By this Princess, who died at Gratz, in Hungary, the 2d June, 1805, he had two children-Louis Antoine, Duc d'Angouleme, born the 6th of August, 1775, who, on his father's accession to the throne, became Dauphin of France, and who married Maria Theresa Charlotte, his first cousin, the only daughter and only surviving child of Louis XVI., but by whom he has no issue; and Henry Charles, Duc de Berri, who married in 1818, Maria Caroline, daughter of Francis I., late King of the two Sicilies, by whom he had two children, viz. Maria Theresa Louisa, (called Mademoiselle,) born 28th September, 1819, and Henry Charles Dieudonne Artois, Duc de Bourdeaux, (a posthumous Prince,) born the 29th September, 1820. The Duc de Berri was mortally wounded by an assassin, in Paris, on the 14th of February, 1820, and died the following morning.

esteem of all those who approached him, or in any way came in contact with him. The Comte d'Artois, on the

his manner which was not at all pleasing, or calculated to insure him respect or esteem; and his careless and impre vident habits, especially situated as he then was, were very ill adapted to raise his character. There was much sympathy in England for Louis XVIII. when residing here; but little or none for his brother, the object of the present article.

The early habits of the Comte d'Artois were very decidedly at variance with that fervour of religion, or rather of devoteeism (if such a word may be used) that seems to have seized him in advanced life, and which has been even more injurious to him than his former conduct, though both decidedly showing the weakness of his mind, or that total want of prudence that unites disregard of expediency, which is an evidence of a deficiency in wisdom, more espos cially in individuals of high station. For the follies of youth, there is of course an excuse; but for those of age, in the teeth of experience, there none, except one can be

found in imbecility or perverseness of mind.

It was reserved for the Comte d'Artois, who, previously to the Revolution, (we, of course, mean the old Revolution.) incurred great public odium, by setting himself against the popular feeling, and who mainly contributed, by his conduct, to excite a feeling of dislike towards his whole family, to profit nothing by upwards of forty years' experience, and to pursue a precisely similar course (as to effect,) after being himself, in the order of succession, called to the throne, thereby rendering the French nation so decidedly hostile to his family that they are doomed to another exile, never to return.

The Comte d'Artois was never favourably spoken of with reference to his domestic relations. On the contrary, he acquired a character for dissipation and extravagance, which rendered him highly unpopular, especially when contrasted with the conduct of Louis XVI. and of Monsieur; for though the unfortunate monarch just mentioned fell a victim to revolutionary fury, his character, as a man, was not The residence of the Comte d'Artois in England, of course. only untainted, but was highly estimable. Monsieur, also, affords but very scanty materials for biography, as there (afterwards Louis XVIII.,) though somewhat luxuriously was little or no variety, nor any event of importance to deinclined, had conducted himself in a way which secured to scribe. His forced sojourn at Holyrood House was, of nehim considerable public respect, whilst the ease and affabi- cessity, rather monotonous; but, some arrangement having lity of his manners contributed to render him highly popu- been effected with his creditors, he was subsequently enabled lar. He was enabled, in consequence, to brave the first to live at Hartwell, with his brother, Louis XVIII. But storm of the revolution, and it was only when its dema- here there was very little difference between one day gogues hurled their insane fury against the very name of and another, except what was afforded by an occasional royalty, that he took refuge in flight. The amenity of his journey to London, or to other quarters, and these very manners, and the prudence with which he at times yielded rarely. They lived pretty much a retired life, nor could it to popular opinion, subsequently served to sustain him firm- be otherwise; and indeed, for a considerable period, their ly upon the throne, till his final summons from this terres-prospect with reference to restoration, seemed so shrouded trial scene; and that conduct materially contributed to show in gloom, that they might have almost calculated upon by contrast the weakness and folly of his successor, in not passing the remainder of their lives in this country.

One of the incidents, however, that occurred, whilst here, to the Comte d'Artois, deserves to be recorded, namely, the loss by death of a favourite mistress, as it is said to have altered the frame of his mind, and to have brought on that sort of gloomy moroseness which marked some parts of his subsequent conduct. We can scarcely persuade ourselves of the truth of this statement, it being by no means unfrequent for a weak mind to swerve from one extreme to another from gaiety, and recklessness, and frivolity, to gloom, and melancholy, and a feeling bordering on despair; but even supposing it to be true, it is only an additional proof of the want of strength of mind, and the absence of that intellectual stamina which befits an individual for high station. It is not the possession of great talents, or splendid attainments, which is requisite, but merely that good sense which enables a personage so situated to do what is right, and proper, and expedient, and thus to secure himself a high place in popular opinion. It was in this respect that the Comte d'Artois, in whatever station, was lamentably deficient, and not possessed of, or contemptuously purning, that tact of which his brother Louis XVIII. so successfully availed himself. He lost a throne which common prudence might have enabled him to retain and secure for his family.

When the conqueror of great part of Continental Europe was himself in turn conquered, and the pleasing sound of restoration reached the ears of the Bourbons, no time was lost by them in setting out for the promised land, and our late Monarch, then Prince Regent, was foremost on the beach at Dover in loudly cheering Louis XVIII. on his departure for France to take possession of the throne of his ancestors. This restoration took place in 1814.

The Comte d'Artois, then called Monsieur, accompanied his brother, and, of course, as the heir presumptive to the throne, became a personage of high importance; but though exalted at Court, he was by no means popular in the city,

or in the country.

his deceased relative.

may serve to account for the speed and the rapidity with which the new Revolution was effected, its progress and termination having been calculated upon and arranged.

Monsieur, the Comte d'Artois, succeeded his brother as King of France, by the title of Charles X., and made his public entry into Paris on the 27th of September, 1824. Had he then formed a resolution to be in reality a constitutional sovereign, and adhered to it permanently, the greetings of the people with which he was then hailed might have lasted during his life, and all might have been well; but his devotion to priestly influence got the better of whatever sense he had, and thus was gradually brought on the catastrophe. Had he, indeed, at any time, from the period of his accession, to Wednesday the 27th of July when his ordonnances were in their effect deluging Paris with blood, shown a bona fide intention of governing according to the Charter, and in unison with the principles of rational freedom, he might have preserved the crown upon his head; for even on the day alluded to, had he shown himself, and revoked the fatal ordonnances, there is every reason to believe that tranquillity would have been restored, and his reign continued.

But here was evinced the real weakness of his mind. He had resolved to possess absolute power without having the talent to command the means; and, failing in his attempt, Charles and the crown of France were for ever severed. It would be useless to recount the acts of the short reign of Charles X. (not quite six years), or the measures of his government; matter of recent history, they are subjects of public notoriety. He had to contend with a considerable party hostile to his rule and to his house, but instead of adopting measures of a soothing and conciliatory nature, his conduct was so irritating and exasperating that he alienated many of his friends, and at last converted into enemies very nearly the whole French nation; whilst as his real power decreased he fancied it had become considerably augmented, and thus he became the dupe and the

victim of his own delusion.

When his constitutional rule was at an end, and when all that remained the power of mere physical force-was at its last gasp, he imagined it was great enough to overawe France, and only awoke from his dream when he found himself a fugitive, condemned to hopeless exile.

He had played a desperate game, in which common pru

purpose was seen through, and the ruse failed. Had he been content with his power as a constitutional king, he

Again driven, for a time, from the throne, Louis XVIII. and his family were obliged to take refuge at Lille, in conBut the sequence of the return of Bonaparte from Elba. latter being compelled to abdicate, in consequence of the splendid victory obtained over him by the Duke of Wellington, at Waterloo, on the 18th of June, 1815, the Bourbons were again restored. Louis XVIII. remained in quiet possession of the throne till his death, on the 16th dence might have whispered him, that he had every thing to lose, and nothing to gain. He had set his all upon the of September, 1824. He had hoped that the birth of a hazard of a die, without even the chance of a cast in his male heir, in the person of the Prince who was subsequently styled Duc de Bourdeaux, and who received the favour; and when, acting probably under the instigation of name of Henry, so popular in France, would have secured evil counsellors, he had thus provoked civil war, and dyed the earth with the blood of the French people, he then, in the succession in the family of his brother; and there cer-keeping, as it were, with the terrific sketch he had pourtainly seemed every probability of it; but the extreme trayed, endeavoured, as a last resource, to throw the apple of folly of that brother was destined to mar the prospect, discord among the French people, to prolong civil war, and though he was himself still more deeply interested in securto cause a prodigal expenditure of the blood of his late subing the succession to his own immediate descendants, than jects, as he seems vainly to have imagined, by abdicating In the conduct of the Comte d'Artois, or Monsieur, sub-in favour of his grandson, the Duc de Bourdeaux. But his sequent to the second restoration, whilst he was the heir presumptive, there was nothing particularly striking or remarkable; but he never enjoyed any popularity at all approaching to that which was conceded to his brother, his sentiments being known too much to approximate to the exploded dogmas of the old regimé, and his manners and deportment, though polite and courteous, betraying evidence of great constraint, and evincing that he was more playing a character which he had assumed, than speaking Whatever might or acting from the bottom of his heart. have been the real sentiments of Louis XVIII. he so effectually disguised them (if they were at all hostile to the existing order of things,) that the people placed confidence fn him; but in his brother they never trusted; on the contrary, they always suspected him of being hostile to the new institutions, and their suspicions being confirmed by his ordonnances, they rose as it were en masse, and drove him from the throne. There is little doubt that the Duke of Orleans, (now Louis Philippe I.) had been looked to as the eventual occupant of the throne, in case of the arbitrary conduct of Charles bringing on a crisis; and this

might have transmitted it to his grandson in a constitutional manner; but he had himself, like our James II., broken the link of legitimate succession; and, like the convention Parliament of England, the representatives of the French nation determined to fill the vacant throne, without delay, (and delay would have been highly dangerous,) with a Prince of their choice, of the late reigning house.

It was

At the age of 73, Charles X. might have thought himself too old to go upon his travels; and had he only uttered a few words to the purpose, or issued a few short sentences to a similar effect, he might have saved himself the humiliation of a compulsory banishment. once said of James II., when in exile in France, and that, too, by an ecclesiastic, "There goes a pious gentleman, who gave up three kingdoms for a mass ;" and something similar may be said of Charles X. Had he attended more to the sound advices of patriotic statesmen, and less to the insidious suggestions of crafty and designing priests, he might still have been King of France.

SOCIAL LIFE IN GLASGOW.
BY JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART, ESQ.

But there would be no end

thing about the west country.
of it were I to tell you all, &c.
rently for forty people rather than for sixteen, which last
"The dinner was excellent, although calculated appa-
number sat down. Capital salmon, and trout, almost as
rich as salmon, from one of the lochs-prime mutton from
Argyleshire, very small and sweet, and indeed ten times
superior-beef of the very first order some excellent fow's
in curry-every thing washed down by delicious old West
India Madeira, which went like elixir vita into the re-
cesses of my stomach, somewhat ruffled in consequence of
my riotous living at Edinburgh. A single bottle of ho ck
and another of white hermitage, went round, but I saw
plainly that the greater part of the company took them for
perry or cider. After dinner, we had two or three bottles
of port, which the landlord recommended as being real stuff.
Abundance of the same Madeira, but, to my sorrow, no claret
the only wine I ever care for more than half-a-dozen
glasses of. While the ladies remained in the room there
was such a noise and racket of coarse mirth, ill restrained
by a few airs of sickly sentiment on the part of the hostess,
that I really could not attend to the wine or the dessert;
but after a little time, a very broad hint from a fat Falstaff,
near the foot of the table, apparently quite a privileged
character, thank Heaven! set the ladies out of the room.
The moment after which blessed consummation, the butler
and footman entered as if by instinct, the one with a huge
punch bowl, and the other with, &c.

better than half the venison we see in London-veal not

MANY of our readers must have just seen COBBETT's account of Edinburgh and Glasgow, which stares us in the face in every newspaper, so frequently and familiarly, that we forbear to repeat much of him. Mr. Lockhart's picture of his native city is now comparatively rare, and it was always racy :"Mr. asked me to dine with him next day, and appointed me to meet him at the coffeeroom or Exchange, exactly at a quarter before 5 o'clock, from which place he said he would himself conduct me to his residence. My rendezvous is a very large, ill-shaped, low-roofed room, surrounded on all sides with green cane chairs, small tables, and newspapers, and opening by glass folding-doors, upon a paved piazza of some extent. This piazza is in fact the Exchange, but the business is done in the adjoining room, where all the merchants are to be seen at certain hours of the day, pacing up and down with more or less importance in their strut, according to the situation of their affairs, or the nature of the bargains of the day. I have seldom seen a more amusing medley. Although I had travelled only forty miles from Edinburgh, I could with difficulty persuade myself that I was still in the same kingdom. Such roar ing! such cursing! such peals of discord! such laughter! such grotesque attitudes! such arrogance! such vulgar disregard of all courtesy to a stranger! Here was to be seen the counting-house blood, dressed in box-coat, Belcher hand"A considerable altercation occurred on the entrance kerchief, and top-boots, or leather gaiters discoursing the bowl, the various members of the company civilly e (Edepol!) about brown sugar and genseng! Here was to treating each other to officiate, exactly like the "Elders" be seen the counting-house dandy, with whalebone stays, in Burns' poem of the Holy Fair," bothering from side to stiff neckcloth, surtout, Cossacks, a spur on his heel, a gold-side" about the saying of grace. A middle-aged gentleman headed cane on his wrist, and a Kent on his head-mincing was at length prevailed upon to draw "the china" before primly to his brother dandy some question about pullicate him, and the knowing manner in which he forthwith be handkerchiefs. Here was to be seen the counting-house gan to arrange all his materials, impressed me at once with bear, with a grin, and a voice like a glass-blower. Here, the idea that he was completely master of the noble science above all, was to be seen the Glasgow litterateur, striding of making a bowl. The bowl itself was really a beautiful in his corner, with a pale face and an air of exquisite ab- piece of porcelain. It was what is called a double bowl, straction, meditating, no doubt, some high paragraph for the that is, the coloured surface was cased in another of pure Chronicle, or perchance, some pamphlet against Dr. Chal- white net-work, through which the red and blue flowers mers! Here, in a word, were to be seen abundant varie- and trees shone out most beautifully. The sugar being ties of folly and presumption-abundant airs of plebianism melted with a little cold water, the artist squeezed about a -I was now in the coffeeroom of Glasgow. dozen lemons through a wooden strainer, and then poured

liquor goes by the name of sherbet, and a few of the connoisseurs in his immediate neighbourhood were requested to give their opinion of it-for in the mixing of the sher bet lies, according to the Glasgow creed, at least one-half of the whole battle. This being approved by an audible smack from the lips of the umpires, the rum was added to the beverage, I suppose, in something about the proportion of one to seven. Last of all, the maker cut a few limes, and running each section rapidly round the rim of his bowl, squeezed in enough of this more delicate acid to fla vour the whole composition. In this consists the true tourde-maitre of the punch-maker. Upon tasting it, I could not refuse the tribute of my warmest admiration to our ac complished artist-so cool, so balmy, so refreshing a com pound of sweets and sours never before descended into my stomach. Had Mahomet, &c.

"My friend soon joined me, and observing, from the ap-in water enough almost to fill the bowl. In this state the pearance of my countenance, that I was contemplating the scene with some disgust, My good fellow,' said he, you are just like every other well-educated stranger that comes into this town, you cannot endure the first sight of us mercantile whelps. Do not, however, be alarmed; I will not introduce you to any of these cattle at dinner. No, sir, you must know that there are a few men of refinement and polite information in this city. I have warned two or three of these rare aves, and depend upon it, you shall have a very snug day's work. So saying, he took my arm, and observing that five was just on the chap, hurried me through several streets and lanes till we arrived in the, where his house is situated. His wife was, I perceived, quite the fine lady, and withal a little of the blue-stocking. Hearing that I had just come from Edinburgh, she remarked that Glasgow would certainly be seen to much disadvantage after that elegant city. Indeed,' said she, a person of taste must of course find many disagreeables connected with a residence in such a town as this; but Mr. -'s business renders the thing necessary for the present, and one cannot make a silk purse of a sow's ear-he, he, he!' Another lady of the company carried this affectation still further. She pretended to be quite ignorant of Glasgow and its inhabitants, although she had lived among them the greater part of her life and, by the by, she seemed to be no chicken.vering of minds keenly alive to the ridiculous, and thereI was afterwards told by my friend, the major, that this damsel had in reality sojourned a winter or two at Edinburgh, in the capacity of lick-spittle, or toad-eater, to a lady of quality, to whom she had rendered herself amusing by a malicious tongue; and that during this short absence she had embraced the opportunity of utterly forgetting every

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evening commenced, and, giving its due weight to the bal "The punch being fairly made, the real business of the samic influence of the fluid, I must say that the behaviour of the company was such as to remove almost entirely the prejudices I had conceived in consequence of their first appearance and external manners. In the course of talk, I found that the coarseness which had most offended me was nothing but a kind of waggish disguise, assumed as the cofore studious to avoid all appearance of finery—an article which they are aware always seems absurd, when exhibited by persons of their profession. In short, I was amongst a set of genuinely shrewd, clever, sarcastic fellows, all of them completely up to trap-all of them good-natured and friendly in their dispositions and all of them inclined to

take their full share in the laugh against their own pecuHarities. Some subjects, besides, of political intent, were introduced and discussed in a tone of great good sense and moderation. As for wit, I must say there was no want of it, in particular from the privileged character' I have already noticed. There was a breadth and quaintness of humour about this gentleman which gave me infinite delight; and, on the whole, I was really much disposed, at the end of the evening (for we never looked near the drawing-room) to congratulate myself as having made a good exchange for the self-sufficient young Whig coxcombs of Edinburgh. Such is the danger of trusting too much to first impressions. The Glasgow people would, in general, do well to assume as their motto, Fronti nulla fides;' and yet there are not a few of them whose faces I should be very sorry to see things different from what they are."-Peter's Letters.

as a master workman in any trade, unless he is admitted as a freeman or member of the craft; and such is the stationary condition of most parts of Germany, that no person is admitted as a master workman in any trade, except to supply the place of some one deceased, or retired from business. When such a vacancy occurs, all those desirous of being permitted to fill it present a piece of work, executed as well as they are able to do it, which is called their master-piece, being offered to obtain the place of a master workNominally, the best workman gets the place, but in reality, some kind of favouritism must generally decide it. Thus is every man obliged to submit to all the chances of a popular election whether he shall be allowed to work for his bread; and that, too, in a country where the people are not permitted to have any agency in choosing their rulers. But the restraints on journeymen in that country are still more oppressive. As soon as the years of appren

man.

PORTRAIT OF AN INTELLIGENT AND VIRTUOUS ticeship have expired, the young mechanic is obliged, in the

ARTISAN.

BY ELLIOTT OF SHEFFIELD.

ALAS! Miles Gordon ne'er will walk again!

But his poor grandson's footsteps wakes thy tear,
As if indeed thy long-lost friend were near.
Here oft, with fading cheek, and thoughtful brow,
Wanders the youth, town-bred, but desert-born;
Too early taught life's deepening woes to know,
He wakes in sorrow with the weeping morn,
And gives much labour for a little corn.
In smoke and dust, from hopeless day to day,
He sweats to bloat the harpies of the soil,
Who jail no victim, while his pangs can pay
Untaxing rent, and trebly taxing toil,
They make the labour of his hands their spoil,
And grind him fiercely; but he still can get
A crust of wheaten bread, despite their frowns;
They have not sent him, like a pauper yet,
For workhouse wages, as they send their clowns;
Such tactics do not answer yet in towns;

Nor have they gorged his soul. Thrall though he be
Of brutes who bite him, while he feeds them, still
He feels his intellectual dignity;

Works hard, reads usefully, with no mean skill
Writes; and can reason well of good and ill.
He hoards his weekly groat. His tear is shed
For sorrows which his hard-worn hand relieves.
Too poor, too proud, too just, teo wise to wed,
(For slaves enough already toil for thieves,)
How gratefully his growing mind receives
The food which tyrants struggle to withhold!
Though hourly ills his every sense invade,
Beneath the cloud that o'er his home is rolled,
He yet respects the power which man hath made,
Nor loathes the despot-humbling sons of trade.
-But when the silent Sabbath-day arrives,
He seeks the cottage bordering on the moor,
Where his forefathers passed their lowly lives,
Where still his mother dwells, content, though poor,
And ever glad to meet him at the door.

Oh, with what rapture he prepares to fly

From streets and courts, with crime and sorrow strewed,
And bids the mountain lift him to the sky!
How proud to feel his heart not all subdued!
How happy to shake hands with solitude!
Still, Nature, still he loves thy uplands brown,
The rock that o'er his father's freehold towers!
And strangers hurrying through the dingy town,
May know his workshop by its sweet wild-flowers,
Cropped on the Sabbath from the hedge-side bowers.

CRAFTSMEN OF GERMANY.

THE different crafts in Germany are incorporations recognised by law, governed by usages of great antiquity, with a foud to defray the corporate expenses; and in each conrable town a house of entertainment is selected as the use of call, or harbor, as it is styled, of each particular craft. Thus we see, in the German towns, a number of averas indicated by their signs, as the Masons' Harbor, the Blacksmiths' Harbor, &c. No one is allowed to set up

phrase of the country, to wander for three years. For this purpose he is furnished, by the master of the craft in which he has served his apprenticeship, with a duly-authenticated wandering-book, with which he goes forth to seek employment. In whatever city he arrives, on presenting himself with his credential, at the house of call, or harbor, of the craft in which he has served his time, he is allowed, gratis, a day's food and a night's lodging. If he wishes to get employment in that place, he is assisted in procuring it. If he does not wish to get employment, or fails in the attempt, he must pursue his wandering; and this lasts for three years before he can be anywhere admitted as a master. It is argued, that this system has the advantage of circulating knowledge from place to place, and imparting to the young artizan the fruits of travel and intercourse with the world. But, however beneficial travelling may be, when undertaken by those who have the taste and capacity to profit by it, to compel every young man who has just served out his time to leave his home, in the manner I have described, must bring his habits and morals into peril, and be regarded rather as a hardship than as an advantage. There is no sanctuary of virtue like home. Many of the German stories, which are of a more homely cast than ours, turn upon the circumstances of the wanderings of a young mechanic, who, if he is to turn out well, comes home at the conclusion to his native city, an adept in his trade, and either marries his master's daughter, or some young maiden to whom he had been affianced before he set out on these dangerous travels.

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Irish Evangelical Society..

Home Missionary Society.

.£81,700

48,200

48,700

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34,500

.9,800

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British and Foreign Seamen and Soldiers' Friend Fociety.. Religious Tract Society..

5,0 0

3,300

3,000

4,000

2,700

2,700

2,500

1,900

700

600

440

340

390

240

Naval and Military Bible Society...................................
Prayer Book and Homily Society..

British and Foreign School Society..
Continental Society...

Port of London Society..

Christian Instruction Society..

Ecelesiastical Knowledge Society..

Sunday School Society......

London Itinerant Society..

Society for the Observance of the Lord's Day...

The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, the Society for Promoting Religious Knowledge among the Poor, the Baptist Missionary Society, and various other minor institutions, not making up their annual accounts in May, are not included in the above summary. If these were added, the gross amount contributed voluntarily in this country, for the support of religious institutions for general purposes, would exceed L.300,000 annually

COLUMN FOR THE LADIES.

THE SPINNING WHEEL SONG.
BY MISS MITFORD.

FAIR Janet sits beside her wheel

No maiden better knew

To pile upon the circling reel

An even thread, and true.
But since for Rob she 'gan to pine,

She twists her flax in vain ;

"Tis now too coarse, and now too fine,
And now 'tis snapt in twain.
Robin, a bachelor profess'd,

At love and lovers laughs,
And o'er the bowl, with reckless jest,
His pretty spinster quaffs;
Then while, all sobbing, Janet cries,
"She scorns the fickle swain,"
With angry haste her wheel she plies,
And snaps the thread again!

MY COACH ACQUAINTANCE.
BEAUTIFUL girl! although I may never
Behold shining on me again thy fair face:
Though short our acquaintance has been, yet for ever,
Thy form and thy tones in my heart shall have place.
The coach has now stopt-and alas! I must stop, too,
And the spell thy sweet spirit has cast over mine,
I must tear away-and my trunk from the top, too—
And start off in a route quite different from thine.
Blest be the fortune that brought us together;

And blest be the showers that drove me inside; Guard, that's my trunk-that one covered with leather, And that's my umbrella stuck there by its side. With all that pass'd by as I've quizz'd and I've shouted,

Said soft things, and all things I thought would please thee; Good by; a safe journey-when you think about it, O, join with the thought some remembrance of me. C. M.

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She questioned him of it.

do

He quite laughed at the notion. Dangers! said he; you then fancy I run into real ones? Should I have died think you, had you not have loved me? and would you, par example, be silly enough to die, if I were indeed to leave you? Bah!

She replied not a word she blushed, then grew pale, and could hardly refrain shedding tears.

He wrote to her saying, "he had altered his mind-it was a thing common enough, and for her part what could she do that was better?"

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She could no longer weep now.

He wrote to her once more "I am convinced you can never exist without loving; but am I the only man in the world?-try to love somebody else, and, prithee! do live."

She reflected upon it for about half a day, and-did live.

Now, gentle reader, and without presumption, let me ask you" Who's the Dupe 2" F. E.

A GOOD WOMAN.-Extract from the Statistical Account of the Parish of Whithorn, by the late Dr. Isaac Davidson." Mrs Macmillan, widow of Bailie Anthony Macmillan, late of this burgh, died this year (1794) in her hundredth year. She lived in this parish, and near neighbourhood of it, all her life, and was connected with some of the best families of the county. Her age is well authenticated. She left two sons, one of them a present magis. trate in the burgh, and two daughters. Upon inquiry, I have found that Mrs Macmillan was blessed with a good natural temper, and was always the friend of peace; that she enjoyed an easy and uniform flow of spirits, and was greatly esteemed by her neighbours as a person of the best moral character. She was remarkable for cleanliness in her person, at her table, and in her house, and to the end of life shewed great attention to her dress. To all her other accomplishments she added those of religion, the duties of which she performed with an attention and zeal highly worthy of imitation. Religion appeared in her with a smiling countenance, guided her honourably through the different stages of life, and ministered to her joy in its evening. Her sense of duty led her to industry; and her religious principles and feelings bestowed upon her contentment, and cheerful trust in God. She lived like a saint, and died like a Christian heroine."

COBBETT ON EDINBURGH.-I now come back to this deing in its heights and Clifton and its rocks and river, was lightful and beautiful city. I thought that Bristol, takthe finest city in the world; but it is nothing to Edinburgh, with its castle, its hills, its pretty little seaport, conveniently detached from it, its vale of rich land lying all around, its lofty hills in the background, its views across the Frith. I think little of its streets and its rows of fine houses, though all built of stone, and though every thing in London and Bath is beggary to these; I think nothing of Holyrood House; but I think a great deal of the fine and well-ordered streets of shops; of the regularity which you perceive everywhere in the management of business; and I think still more of the absence of all that foppishness, and that affectation of carelessness, and that insolent assumption of superiority, that you see in almost all the young men that you meet with in the fashionable parts of the great towns in England. I was not disappointed: for I expected to find Edinburgh the finest city in the kingdom. Conversations at Newcastle, and with many Scotch gentlemen for years past, had prepared me for this; but still the reality has greatly surpassed every idea that I had formed about it. The people, however, still exceed the place; here all is civility; you do not meet with rudeness, or even with the want of a disposition to oblige, even in persons in the lowest state of life. A friend took me round the environs of the city; he had a turnpike ticket, received at the first gate, which cleared five or six gates. he had it. It was sufficient for him to tell the future gate-keepers that When I saw that, I said to myself," Nota bene: Gate-keepers take people's word in Scotland; a thing that I have not seen before since I left Long Island." -Cobbett's Register.

THE PLEASURES OF EXPECTATION. A drunken fellow, at a late hour in the night, was sitting in the middle of the Place Vendome. A friend of his happening to pass, recognised him, and said, "Well, what do you do here, why don't you go home? The drunkard replied, "My good fellow, 'tis just what I want-(hiccup)—but, the place is all going round-(hiccup)—and I'm waiting for my door to go by."

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