the historians of the day-the strange demeanour of a man in a yellow domino, early in the evening, excited attention. This mask, who showed nothing remarkable as to figure, though all rather, and of robust proportion, seemed to be gifted with an appetite, not merely past human conception, but passing the fancies even of romance. i us, for not paying his abominably long bills, said, in a rage, in the cockpit before us all, that, after having tried his son in half a dozen professions, without any chance of success, he was now resolved, as a last resource, to make a midshipman of him! This sarcasm was uttered during the short peace of Amiens, when we first visited Halifax; a period when the mids had so little real business to attend to, that they seized eagerly upon any opening for a joke. As soon, therefore, as the tailor had quitted the ship, it was resolved to punish him for his uncourteous speech. It had not escaped the notice of his tormentors, that this vulgar fraction of his species prided himself, in a most especial he was a bibler-a mere fool to this stranger of the yellow degree, on the dignity of a very enormous tail or queue, which reached half way down his back; and it was resolved, in secret council, that this appendage should forthwith be docked. Nothing, I must fairly own, could be more treacherous than the means devised to lower the honour and glory of the poor tailor. He was formally invited to dinner with us; and, being well plied with grog, mixed according to the formidable rule for making what is called a Northwester, which prescribes that one half of each glass shall consist of rum, and the other half of rum and water, our poor guest was soon brought under the table. Being then quite incapable of moving, he was lifted in noisy triumph out of the berth, and placed in the tier, across the bends of the small bower cable, where, after many a grunt and groan at the rugged nature of his couch, he at length ell asleep. His beautiful tail, the pride of his life! was presently glued, by means of a lump of pitch, to the strands of the cable; and such was the tenacity of the substance that in the morning, when, on the daylight gun being fired immediately over his head, poor snip awoke, he could no more detach himself from the spot on which he lay than Lemuel Gulliver in like circumstances. His noddle was still so confused, that he knew not where he lay, nor what held him down. After tugging at his hair for a minute or two, he roared out lustily for help. One of the mids, seized with the brilliant idea of making the tailor the finisher of his own fate, hurried to his assistance, and, handing him a knife, roared out, "by all means to make haste, as the devil had got hold of him by the tail!" The poor tradesman, terrified out of his wits, and in great horror at his mysterious situation, instantly did as he was desired, and cut away lustily, little dreaming that his own rash hand was shearing the highest and most cherished honours of his house! On turning round, he beheld with dismay the ravished locks which, for half a century and more, had been the joint delight of himself and his tender partner Rebecca. As the thought of returning tail-less to his home crossed his half-bewildered brain, he exclaimed, in an agony of spirit, to his malicious tormentors, "Oh, Lord! oh Lord! I am a lost man to my Becky!" The revenge of the malicions middies was now complete; and this expression of being a " lost man to one's Becky" became a by-word in the ship for many years afterwards, to denote the predicament of any one who got into a scrape, and came out of it with loss.-Hall's Fragments. THE YELLOW DOMINO. In the latter part of the reign of Louis XV. of France the masquerade was an entertainment high in estimation, and was often given at an immense cost on court days and such occasions of rejoicing. As persons of all ranks might gain admission to these spectacles, provided they could afford the purchase of the ticket, very strange rencontres frequently took place at them, and exhibitions almost as curious in the way of disguise or assumption of character. But perhaps the most whimsical among the genuine surprises recorded at any of these spectacles, was that which occurred in Paris the 15th of October, on the day when the Dauphin (son of Louis XV.) attained the age of The dragon of old, who churches ate, domino. He passed from chamber to chamber from table to "I have seen bat one-and, by Heaven! he is here again," exclaimed the party to whom the query is addressed. The yellow domino spoke not a word, but proceeded straight to the vacant seat which he had just left, and again commenced supping, as though he had fasted for the half of a campaign. At length the confusion which this proceeding created, became universal; and the cause reached the ears of the Dauphin. "He is a very fiend, your Highness!" exclaimed an ok nobleman-"saving your Highness's presence-or wants but a tail to be so!" Say rather he should be a famished poet, by his appearance," replied the Prince, laughing. "But there must be some jnggling; he spills all his wise, and hides the provisions under his robe." Even while they were speaking, the yellow domino entered the room in which they were talking, and, as usual, proceeded to the table of refreshments "See here, my Lord," cried one -"I have seen him do this twice!" "I thrice!""I five times!"-"and I fifteen!" This was too much. The master of the ceremonies was questioned. He knew nothing-and the yellow do niño was interrupted as he was carrying a bumper of claret to his lips. "The Prince's desire is that Monsieur who wears the yellow domino should unmask." The stranger hesitated. "The command with which his Highness honours Monsieur is perfectly absolute." Poted to ze? 1 Against that which is absolute there is no contending. The yellow man threw off his mask and doming; and proved to be a private trooper of the Irish dragoons! # “And in the name of gluttony, my good friend, (not to ask how you gained admission,) how have you contrived," said the Prince," to sup to-night so many times ?' "Sire I was beginning but to sup, with reverence be it said, when your Royal message interrupted me." Beginning!" exclaimed the Dauphin, in amazement, “then what is it I have heard and seen? - Where are the herds of oxen that have disappeared, and the hampers of burgundy?' I insist upon knowing how this is!" "It is, Sire," returned the soldier, may it please your Grace, that the troop to which I belong is to day on guard. We have purchased one ticket among us, and provided this yellow domino, which fits us all. By which means the whole of the front rank, being myself the last man, have supped, if the truth must be told, at discretion! and the leader of the second rank, At this fete, which was of a peculiar glittering character-saving your highness's commands, is now waiting outside the so much so, that the details of it are given at great length by door to take his turn." one-and-twenty. TRIMMINGS AND TRAPPINGS OF A MODERN SUCCESSOR OF THE APOSTLES. Our readers will, we doubt not, be as much edified as we have been, with the items of the inventory of goods lately given in by the Archbishop of Paris, in his claims of damage suffered during the THREE DAYS. It is but a selection we give from a pretty long list. ON TRUE HAPPINESS. The desire of happiness in general is so natural to us, that all the world are in pursuit of it; all have this one end in view, though they take such different methods to attain it, and are so much divided in their notions of it. Evil, as evil, can never be chosen; and though evil is often the effect of our own choice, yet we never desire it, but under the appearance of an imaginary good. Many things we indulge ourselves in may be considered by us as evils, and yet be desirable; but then they are only considered as evils in their effects and consequences, not as evils at present, and attended with immediate misery. Reason represents things to us, not only as they are at passion only regards them in their former light; when this governs us, we are regardless of the future, and are only affected with the present. It is impossible ever to enjoy ourselves rightly, if our conduct be not such as to preserve the harmony and order of our faculties, and the original frame and constitution of ful can only result from order. our minds; all true happiness, as all that is truly beauti Monseigneur, then, claims, in the first place, 2,000 francs. For what?-Guess. For valuable manuscript works of the eleventh century?—No, indeed. For a copy, in vellum, of the Decrees of the Council of Trent?-No, not for that. For a copy of the Holy League, signed by the hand of Cardinal Lorraine himself?-No. For the rosary of St Dominque, or a brieviary of Father Letellier ?—No. For original letters of the wise and excellent Fenelon ?-present, but as they are in their whole nature and tendency; Ah! that must be it. No; it is not that either. Guess again; guess a hundred times; a thousand times. Monseigneur claims-Monseigneur claims-two thousand francs forsweetmeats and preserves! What! two thousand? Why he must have supplied the whole church with sweetmeats. How the pastrycooks and preservers must have worked to enable the suffering Church to claim such damages for the mischief done to its dainties! It is true this includes sugar and coffee; but when we look further into the inventory we find that every thing has its turn. Sometimes one would think it was an account of the posthumous effects of the celebrated Brillat-Savarin; for, in coming to the contents of the cellar, we see three hundred bottles of Cyprus wine of the finest quality, 1,000 francs. At other times we might fancy ourselves in the richest magazines of the most approved seamstress or linen-draper, when we observe the profusion of the ribards and blonds which ornamented the vestments of this minister of the Church. We have three aubes (a priest's garment) made of lawn down to the thighs, and the rest of the finest English lace, (dentelle d'Angleterre,) valued at 4,500 francs; and again, three rochets, ornamented in the same manner, 3,000 francs; and another with ribands, 3,000 francs. We will say nothing more of the lemon and apricot preserves but the tulle, the lawn, the lace! We stop short for fear of committing an indis-pointments to sour us, but never the good fortune to satisfy cretion; we fear to embroil Monseigneur with the fair sex, if we show what a monopolist of lace, &c., he has been. What scarfs, what veils, what volans, what trimmings, what head-dresses might have been made out of three aubes and five rochets! We select a few more items out of a thousand of like character : "A cup and a vessel for holy water, in silver gilt, 600 franes. "A very fine and large mahogany billiard-table, and appurtenances, the cloth quite new, 1,200 francs. "A quantity of fine old Bordeaux wine, which orginally cost 1,200 francs, without including the carriage to Paris, or the bottling, 1,200 francs. "A diamond star, as large as the palm of the hand, 7,200 francs. "A dress of figured violet silk, 80 francs. size of life, the frame handsomely carved and gilt, 200 francs. V Well, Gentlemen, have we not quoted enough? If not, to satisfy you, we will take two more specimens:"Full-length portraits of Louis XVIII. and Charles X., While there is a conflict betwixt the two principles of passion and reason, we must be miserable in proportion to the struggle; and when the victory is gained, and reason so far subdued as seldom to trouble us with its remonstrances, the happiness we have then is not the happiness of our rational nature, but the happiness only of the inferior and sensual part of us, and consequently a very low and imperfect happiness, to what the other would have afforded us. If we reflect upon any one passion and disposition of mind, abstract from virtue, we shall soon see the disconnexion between that and true solid happiness. It is of the very essence, for instance, of envy to be uneasy and disquieted. Pride meets with provocations and disturbances upon almost every occasion. Covetousness is ever attended with solicitude and anxiety. Ambition has its disap us; its appetite grows the keener by indulgence, and all we can gratify it with at present serves but the more to inflame its insatiable desires. The passions, by being too much conversant with earthly objects, can never fix in us a proper composure and acquiescence of mind. Nothing but an indifference to the things of this world, an entire submission to the will of Providence here, and a well-grounded expectation of happiness hereafter, can give us a true satisfactory enjoyment of ourselves. Virtue is the best guard against the many unavoidable evils incident to us; nothing better alleviates the weight of the afflictions, or gives a truer relish of the blessings of human life. What is without us has not the least connexion with happiness, only so far as the preservation of our lives and health depends upon it. Health of body, though so far necessary that we cannot be perfectly happy without it, is not sufficient to make us happy of itself. Happiness springs immediately from the mind; health is but to be considered as a candidate or circumstance, without which this happiness cannot be tasted pure and unabated. Virtue is the best preservative of health, as it prescribes temperance, and such a regulation of our passions as is most conducive to the well-being of the animal economy, so that it is, at the same time, the only true happiness of the mind, and the best means of preserving the health of the body. If our desires are to the things of this world, they are never to be satisfied; if our great view is upon the next, the expectation of them is an infinitely higher satisfaction than the enjoyment of those of the present. There is no happiness, then, but in a virtuous and selfapproving conduct; unless our actions will bear the test of our sober judgments, and reflections upon them, they are not the actions, and consequently not the happiness, of a rational being.-The Beauties of Franklin. PROGRESS OF KNOWLEDGE IN INDIA. **. In yourself, and, what is still worse, deceives them whom you serve. IV. Preserve your fidelity; for a faithful servant is a jewel, for whom no encouragement can be too great. V. Adhere to truth; for falsehood is detestable, and he that tells one lie, must tell twenty more to conceal it. VI. Be strictly honest; for it is shameful to be thought unworthy of trust. VII. Be modest in your behaviour; it becomes your sta tion, and is pleasing to your superiors. VIII. Avoid pert answers; for civil language is cheap, and impertinence provoking. IX. Be clean in your business; for those who are slovens and sluts, are disrespectful servants, X. Never tell the affairs of the family you belong to; for that is a sort of treachery, and often makes mischief; but keep their secrets, and have none of your own. XI. Live friendly with your fellow-servants; for the contrary destroys the peace of the house. XII. Above all things avoid drukenness; for that is an inlet to vice, the ruin of your character, and the destruction of your constitution. XIII. Prefer a peaceful life, with moderate gains, to great advantage and irregularity. XIV. Save your money; for that will be a friend to in old age. you Be not expensive in dress, nor marry too soon. XV. Be careful of your master's property; for wastefulness is a sin. XVI. Never swear; for that is a crime without excuse, as there is no pleasure in it. No. 5. of Periodical Accounts of the Serampore Mission," supplies some interesting intelligence respecting the progress of knowledge in India. It may be proper to mention, that Serampore is a missionary station, about 15 miles North of Calcutta, originally established by the Danes, about 1800. The first newspaper in the vernacular language of Bengal, the Durpun, was commenced here in 1818, and was patronized by the Marquis of Hastings, then Governor-General. It is a weekly paper, originally in four, but now in eight pages; and recently, the editor has begun to print it in parallel columns of Bengalee and English, so that it serves as teacher to the natives who wish to learn the latter language. It travels as far as Delhi, 960 miles westward, passing everywhere under a small charge for postage, which in general is about three halfpence, and for the greatest distance, only three-pence. The example set at Serampore was soon followed at Calcutta, where there are now eight newspapers in the eastern languages, namely six in Bengalee, and two in Persian. One of these papers is published twice a-week; the other seven, weekly; and the price of the latter is one rupee per month, or two shillings. They contain intelligence respecting the proceedings of the Governor-General, the Supreme Courts, the Police, the Civil and Criminal Courts, and news from Britain, France, and other distant countries, as well as India. 1825, the subscribers to the six papers were calculated at from 800 to 1000, (Query-to all the papers, or to each ?) and five readers to each paper. Since then they have greatly increased; and from the best information, says the Durpun, in Jan. 1830, "we are led to believe that the number of subscribers to native newspapers has been doubled with in the last twelve months." These papers contain intelligence from Europe and other parts of the world, of which a few years ago, the Hindoos did not even know the name. The first work printed in Bengalee for the natives, appear- XIX. Rise early; for it it difficult to recover lost time. ed only sixteen years ago. Since that time, thirty-six other XX. The servant that often changes his place, works works, great and small, have been published, chiefly, how-only to be poor; for "the rolling-stone gathers no moss." ever, upon the Hindoo religion; but as knowledge spreads, XXI. Be not fond of increasing your acquaintances; the demand for science and literature will arise. Among for visiting leads you out of your business, robs your masfourteen publications in English, printed by natives, in ter of your time, and often puts you to an expense you can English, in 1829, it is curious to find," Remarks on the not afford. And above all things, take care with whom Influx of Irish Poor, during the season of Harvest ;"" the you are acquainted; for persons are generally the better or Early Life of Lord Liverpool;" " A Self-Guide to the Eng- the worse for the company they keep. lish Language, in Bengalee and English," &c. But native efforts now begin to take a higher range. The Darpun states, that an edition of the Shah Namah, or great Historical Poem of the Persians, in the original language, was completed by Captain Mahon, in 1829; and printed at the expense of the King of Oude. This poem consists of 110,408 lines, and is therefore about seven times as long as the Iliad. It contains all that remains in the East of the history and antiquities of Persia, from the earliest times to the Mahometan conquest; and served almost solely, we believe, as the basis of Sir John Malcolm's History of Persia. Mill's History of India, we observe, is printing at Serampore, in the Bengalee language. The study of lish by the natives has made prodigious progress these ten years. "It would be easy to point out between one and two hundred native young gentlemen in Calcutta, to whom English is quite as familiar as their own tongue." RULES FOR SERVANTS. I. A good character is valuable to every one, but especially to servants; for it is their bread, and without it they cannot be admitted into any creditable family; and happy it is that the best of characters is in every one's power to deserve. II. Engage yourself cautiously, but stay long in your place, for long service shows worth-as quitting a good place through passion, is a folly which is always lamented of too late. III. Never undertake any place you are not qualified for; for pretending to what you do not understand, exposes XVII. Be always ready to assist a fellow-servant; for good nature gains the love of every one. XVIII. Never stay when sent on a message; for waiting long is painful to your master, and a quick return shows diligence. XXII. When out of place, be careful where you lodge; for living in a disreputable house, puts you upon a footing with those that keep it, however innocent your are your self. XXIII. Never go out on your own business, without the knowledge of the family, lest in your absence you should be wanted; for "Leave is light," and returning punctually at the time you promise, shows obedience, and is a proof of sobriety. XXIV. If you are dissatisfied with your place, mention your objections modestly to your master or mistress, and give a fair warning; and do not neglect your business nor behave ill, in order to provoke them to turn you away; for this will be a blemish in your character which you must always have from the last place you served in All who pay a due regard to the above precepts, will be happy in themselves, will never want friends, and will always meet with the assistance, protection, and encour ragement of the wealthy, the worthy, and the wise. The population of the United States, according to the last census, is over twelve millions; and the increase in 1831, including the negroes and the emigrants, exceeded 500,000 souls; so that at the same rate the country might have, in twenty-five years, a population of twenty-five millions. The emigration this year to the ports of the Atlantic has not been so great as the last; but thousands of emigrants have spread from Canada through the States of New York and Ohio, and particularly through the territory of Michigan, which is to be incorporated a State next year. THE great road from England, in former times, skirted. he Firth of Solway, pursued its wild and extraordinary way brough one of the deepest and most dangerous morasses in cotland, and, emerging on the Caerlaverock side, confered on the Kirkgate of the good town of Dumfries the rank nd opulence of a chief street. Commanding a view of the rinding and beautiful river Nith on one side, and of the reen stately hills of Tinwald and Torthorwold on the ther, with their numerous villages and decaying castles, : his street became the residence of the rich and the far-decended-numbering among its people some of the most ncient and potent names of Nithsdale. The houses had 1 general something of a regal look-presenting a curious ixture of the Saxon and Grecian architecture, blending himsically together in one place, or kept separate in all #their native purity in another; while others of a different, ut no less picturesque character, towered up in peaked and rnamented Norman majesty, with their narrow turret tairs and projecting casements. But I mean not to claim or the Kirkgate the express name of a regular street. Truit trees frequently throwing their branches, loaded with he finest fruit, far into the way, and in other places antique orchways, shaded deep with yew-tree, took away the reroach of "eternal mortar and stone," and gave the whole retired and a sylvan look, The presence of an old bhurch, with its thick-piled grave-stones, gave a gravity of leportment to the neighbourhood; the awe inspired by a religious place was visible on the people. There was a eriousness mingled with their mirth; a reverential feeling poured through their legends and their ballads. Their laughter was not so loud, nor their joy so stormy, as that of men in less hallowed places. The maidens danced with something of a chastened step, and sang with a devotional grace. The strings of that merry instrument which be witched the feet of the wisest men, when placed under the left ear of a Kirkgate musician, emitted sounds so perfectly in unison with devotion, that a gifted elder of the kirk was once known to sanction and honour it, by measuring a step or two to the joyous tune of "An' O to be married an' this be the way." Over the whole street, and far into the town, was breathed much of that meek, austere composure, which the genius of ancient sculptors has shed on their divine performances. r of It was pleasant to behold the chief street of this ancient border town in its best days those times of simplicity and virtue, as one of the town bailies, a barber by trade, remarked, when every woman went with a cushioned brow and curled locks, and all the men flourished in full bottomed wigs. But the demon who presides over the abasement of streets and cities entered into the empty place which the brain of a sheriff ought to have occupied, and the road was compelled to forsake the side of the Solway-the green fields of Caerlaverock, and the ancient Kirkgate, and approach Dumfries through five miles of swamp, and along a dull, and muddy way, which all travellers have since learned to test under the name of the Lochmaben-gate. From that hur, the glory of the old chief street diminished. The giddy and the gay forsook a place where the chariot of the anger, with its accompaniment of running lacquies and de mounted grooms, was no longer seen; and the ancient i habitants saw, with sorrow, their numbers gradually lessen, and their favourite street hastening to decay. A new and a meaner race succeeded-the mansions of the Douglasses, the Dalzells, the Maxwells, the Kirkpatricks, and the Herrieses, became the homes of the labouring man, and the mechanic. Tapestried halls, and lordly rooms, were profaned by vulgar feet; and for the sound of the cithern and the rebeck, the dull din of the weaver's loom, and the jarring clamour of the smith's steel hammer, abounded. With this brief and imperfect notice we shall bid fare well to the ancient splendour of the Kirkgate-it is with its degenerate days that our story has intercourse; and the persons destined to move, and act, and suffer, in our authentic drama, are among the humblest of its inhabitants. The time, too, with which our narrative commences and terminates, is a season somewhat uncongenial for descriptive excursions. A ruinous street and a labouring people, on whom the last night of December is descending in angry winds, and cold sleets and snows, present few attractions to dealers in genteel fictions; and few flowers, either natural or figurative, for embellishing a tale. With all these drawbacks, we have one advantage, which a mind delighting in nature and truth will not willingly forego; the tale, humble and brief as it is, possesses truth beyond all power of impeachment, and follows conscientiously the traditional adorn it in those vain and gaudy embellishments with and accredited narrative, without staying to array it and which fiction seeks to encumber a plain and simple story. The night which brings in the New Year to the good people of Dumfries, has long been a night of friendly meetings, and social gladness and carousal. The grave and the devout lay aside, for the time, the ordinary vesture of sanctity and religious observance; the sober and self-denying revel among the good things of this life, with a fervour, perhaps augmented by previous penance; and even some of the shining lights of the Scottish Kirk have been observed to let their splendour subside for the evening, that, like the sun, perhaps they might come forth from darkness with an increase of glory. The matron suspends her thrift, and arrays herself in her marriage mantle the maiden, and the bond-maiden, flaunt and smile, side by side, in ribbons and scarfs, and snooded love-locks, all arranged with a careful and a cunning hand, to assist merry blue or languishing black eyes in making mischief among the hearts of men. Each house smells, from floor to roof, with the good things of this life-the hare caught in her twilight march through the cottager's kaleyard, or the wild duck shot by moonlight, while tasting the green herbage on some lonely stream bank-send up, stewed or roasted, a savour the more gladsome because it comes seldom; while the flavour of smuggled gin and brandy is not the less acceptable, because the dangers of the deep sea, and the terrors on shore of the armed revenue officers, were in the way of its gracing once a-year the humble man's supper board. Amid the sound of mirth and revelry, and shining of lamps and candles in porch and window, there was one house, covered with humble thatch, and of altogether a modest, or rather mean exterior, which seemed not to sympathize in the joys of the evening. A small and lonely candle twinkled in a small and solitary window; and no sound proceeded from its door, save now and then the moving of the slow and aged feet of the mistress of this rude cottage. As the more roving and regardless youths passed the window, they "what words have escaped from thy lips superstitious were observed to lower their voices, regulate their steps, and smooth down their deportment to something approaching to devotional. Within the window sat one who, ungracious in the outward man, and coarse in his apparel, and owner only of a bed-stead and couch, and a few controversial books, was nevertheless a man of note in those days, when things external were of little note in the eyes of a Presbyterian minister. Indeed, had one of the present generation glanced his eye through the coarse green glass of the low-browed window, and seen an old man, whose silver hairs were half concealed by a night-cap, not over pure; whose bent shoulders bore a plaid of homely chequered gray, fastened on the bosom with a wooden skewer, while over his knees lay a large old Bible, clasped with iron, on which his eyes were cast with a searching and a serious glance; our youth of Saxon broad-cloth and French ruffles would have thought of something much more humble than the chief elder of the old kirk of Dumfries. It was, indeed, no other than William Warpentree, one of the burning and shining lights of the Ancient of Days, when serious prayers, and something of a shrewd and proverbial cast of worldly counsel, were not the less esteemed that they pertained to a humble weaver. His consequence, even in this lowly situation, was felt far and wide; of the fair webskirk standard of forbidden luxuries. What say you against which came from the devout man's looms, let the long-plotted, par-boiled, shorn small, with slice of broiled the crushed heart of the kindly corn-a singed sheep's head linsey-woolsey garments of the matrons of Dumfries, even at liver ground to powder, and a dozen of onions sliced like this day, bear witness-garments which surpass silk in wafers, powdered with pepper, and showered owre with beauty, while many a blythsome bridal and sorrowful bu-salt; the whole mingled with the fat of the ox, and stowed rial bore token, in their fine linen vestments, of the skill of in a bag as pure as burnbleached linen, and secured with a William's right hand. Indeed, it was one of the good-peg that would make seven spoolpins. I'll warrant it will man's own practical proverbs, that there was more vanity spout to the rannel-tree when ye stick the knife in it. My in the bier than the bridal.' Though sufficiently conscious certie will't." of those gifts, he wished them to be forgotten in the sedate and austere elder of the kirk; and long before the time of our tale, he had become distinguished for the severity of his discipline, and his gifts in kirk controversy. But the influence of ancient times of relaxation and joy, of which he had been a partaker in his youth, had not wholly ceased; and an observer of human nature might see, that amid all the controversial contemplations in which he seemed involved, the jolly old domestic god of Scottish cheer and moderate hilarity had not yet yielded entire place to the Crumb of Comfort, the Cup of Cold Water to the Parched Spirit, The Afflicted Man's Best Companion, and Boston's Fourfold State. He lifted his eyes from the page, and said, "Marion, even before I proceed to matters of spiritual import, let me know what thou hast prepared for the nourishment of the bodies of those whom we have invited, according to the fashion of our fathers, to sit out the Old Year and welcome in the New. Name me the supper dishes, I pray thee, that I may know if thou hast scorned the Babylonian observances of the sister Church of England in the matter of creature-comforts. What hast thou prepared for supper, I pray thee?-no superstitious meats and drinks, Marion, I hope, but humble and holy, and halesome things, which nourish the body without risk to the soul? I dread, by thy long silence, woman, that thou hast been seeking to pamper the Episcopalian propensities of our appetites by ceremonious and sinful saint-day dishes. "Ah! William Warpentree," said his douce spouse Marion, covering an old oaken table as she spoke, with a fine-pattern'd table cloth, wove by no other hand than that of the devout owner of the feast himself; "Ah!" said she, placed the book from his knee, placed his hand on his At this description of the national dish, the old man diswaistcoat, where time and daily meditation had made some spare cloth, and rising, paced from side to side of his humble abode, with a look of subdued and decent impatience. "I wonder;-wonder is an unwise word," said he, checking himself, "for nought is wonderful, save the divine presence, and the divine works; but what, in the name of warp and waft-a mechanical exclamation of surprise, and therefore not sinful-what can stay Deacón Treddle, my aîn dear door neighbour; and what can keep Bailie Burnewin! ! hope his prentice boy has not burnt his forge again, and made the douce man swear.""Saul to gudeman, but ye feu ill." "But we have all our times of weakness-even I myself," he muttered, in a low and inaudible tone, "have matters to mourn for as well as the wicked; I have buttered my own breakfast with the butter, which honest men's wives have given me, for anointing their webs. I have worn, but that was in my youth, the snawwhite linen purloined from many customers in hanks and cuts. And I have looked with an unrighteous eye after that dark-eyed and straight-limbed damsel, Mary Macmillan; even I, who rebuked her and counselled her before the session, and made even the anointed minister envy the fluency and scriptural force of my admonishment. But, in gude time, here comes auld Burnewin," and extending his hand as he spoke, it was grasped by a hand protruded from a broad brown mantle, and tinged by exposure at the forge into the hue of a tinker's travelling wallet. "Whole threads, and a weel-gaun loom to thee, my douce auld fere," said the Bailie, removing a slouched hat as he |