contentions of the crowd; men who love to see the human countenance distorted with passion, and stained with crime; unless such can be found, none can be said to appreciate the beauty of pleadings, the jerk of a rejoinder, the wit of rebutter, or the knock-down argumentativeness of the sur-rebutter. These, unhappily, are but Greek to the heroes of the battles fought under their golden flags; and if victory crowns the combat, (for there are conflicts that may be fought over and over again, and at intervals of years, without being decisive,) the vanquished stares in stupid wonder at his defeat; while the victor scarce believes his own good fortune. This is but a sorry view of litigation, but we see not how it can be charged to the profession, who are by no means accountable for the usages and musty processes which have been handed down, enveloped in all the mysterious majesty of antiquity.

We say nothing more of the importance of the profession of law, than that it will be necessary as long as the strong endeavor to oppress the weak; as long as men strive to worry and devour each other; but as long as the cause of injured innocence is to be pleaded, this profession will furnish bright examples of disinterested exertions, chivalrous eloquence, and fearless disclosure of truth, whatever be the consequence.

But we come now to the important influence of lawyers, in matters separated from the technicalities of their art. It is the privilege of the bar to hold a high station in society, and to come under customary respect, as men endowed with learning and eloquence. Cicero was a lawyer. Cæsar was a lawyer, as well as general. The great names of England belong to this profession, and in our own country, great men have been trained at the bar. We are by education prepared to think favorably of a man's intellect, when we hear that he belongs to this profession, and with reason; for there is enough in a course of legal study, to make a great mind. The history of law, the reasons of decisions, the feudal system, embrace the history of the world, politically and morally. The right study of law embraces all other learning, and distinguished judges have even made themselves familiar with the mechanical arts, to assist them in deciding cases involving them. Parsons, of reported memory, is said to have set a shipbuilder right in some nice examination regarding his business, in a trial; and such instances have not been rare. We look to the bar for leaders in important matters. They are the patrons of literature, the forwarders of great movements in political economy, and the advocates of most of our public concerns. However good and sound may be the views of other men, the practice of the lawyer in courts, his familiarity with the forms of business, and the details of affairs, qualify him to speak publicly, when bodies of men are to be addressed; and here is a noble field for the enlargement of his influence, and the generality of his fame. Another advantage is, that its pursuits are entirely of an intellectual nature. There is enough constantly to practice his ingenuity, to keep fresh his information, and to enlarge it. The lawyer is not a solitary student, bending his mind for learning's sake; he lives in the very bustle and strife of mankind. He is acquainted with all the conspicuous men of his time; his rank admits him to the highest society when abroad; he is equally spurred on by

interest and pleasure. He never flags, and says it is all stale, flat, and unprofitable, for he meets encouragement at every step, in the suggestions of fame, money, and competition. The effect in society of this profession may be most salutary, its merits most conspicuous. Brougham has not thought penny magazines beneath his notice; much more has he given his influence to the higher order of literary societies. He finds time, amid the arduous duties of many stations, to act his part well in great and little concerns; acknowledging the principle, I presume, that they who do not attend well to their smaller duties, will probably neglect their larger ones. We have been speaking of law pursued as a science, and unless so pursued, of course none of the effects we have mentioned, will follow.

Of the medical profession, I hardly dare speak. It offers much room for real and justifiable reproach, at the same time that it numbers in its ranks some of the brightest names of the age, past and present. But it is yet a question whether the profession itself is not to blame for not long ago freeing the public from the incursions of imposters in science, by adopting a more easily-understood phraseology. The very constitution of the human mind makes it a ready prey to impositions, in cases where health and life are concerned. A drowning man will catch at a straw. Else who pays for the long and weary recountings of wonderful cures in our newspapers, the patent nostrums, the life-giving cordials, the redeeming cosmetics, the preservers of beauty, the renewers of youth, the cure-alls (more properly denominated the kill-alls,) who pays for all this trash? We answer, the very persons who think themselves too poor to call a regular physician; who think health is bought by the ounce, and the more medicine, the more health; who sometimes get ahead of the doctor, with a vengeance, as in the case of a poor family, who, calling a physician, happened to discover after his departure, that he had left some medicine; after contemplating the charm for some time, in astonishment, and wondering what it could be, they concluded to divide the stuff, and each to take a dose. It was done with greedy satisfaction, but it turned out to be sticking salve, and nearly cost them their lives. This is fact, and not fiction, and proves our assertion, that effort should be made to disabuse the public mind of any idea of charms and love-powders. It belongs to the profession of medicine itself, to do away with these ridiculous notions. Some have pretended to raise the dead; and we see the astonishing credulity of the public mind, in the fact, that even a regular physician jumps into an extensive practice by one unexpected cure; a cure which, after all, was effected by removing all medicines out of the reach of the patient, and giving nature fair play. Let us not be understood as speaking slightingly of the healing art; it is as necessary, in our day of unnatural habits, as the prop which supports the overladen tree; but we are taking the liberty to object to the unnecessary obscurity that is thrown around the subject, by terms and phrases. In a matter so near to the interest of every one, people should know things by their right names, that they may have the privilege of taking a little care of themselves. I am objecting to mystery, which makes the poor and ignorant an easy prey to quacks and pretenders. People generally have now few tests by which to try a physician, because the whole art is clothed in a language they can.

not understand. I am aware that upon some subjects, scientific phra seology is necessary; but we need an Abernethy in our country, who will reduce the subject to a little more common sense standard.

The profession of medicine opens a wide field for the exercise of philanthrophy and charity. The poor are its subjects, for the most part, particularly in cities, where a large portion of the laboring population, debarred by their necessities from paying any attention to causes of disease, contract chronic disorders of inveterate strength. We say debarred: perhaps we should rather say, the evils of poverty, the miseries of vice, the pressing necessities of the hour, being the present great evil, they are insensible to the hints of nature, so easily discovered by those who have little to do but to think of their com fort and convenience. Here the physician has room to exercise all his charities, and they are not wanting. In times of epidemics, of the most malignant character, they are a bold, fearless, and philosophical class of men. At such times, often are they called to perform all the offices of nurse, doctor, minister, and undertaker; and hardly a sickly season has occurred of late, without depriving us of many of these most valuable men. Living as we do in what is called a refined state of society, which often means nothing more than dressing better, consuming larger quantities of food, and deeper goblets of sparkling wine, it would be hard to look for an alternative in the medical profession; and the fact that it draws its support from the miseries and sufferings of the world, is no objection to its respectability. Indeed, what profession is there, that does not draw its support from some suffering, necessity, or disability, unless it be that of the mountebank, who, after all, may be said to draw his support, too, from a suffering state of mind; a state of emptiness, we suppose, as unpleasant as hunger is to the body. The advantages to be derived from this walk in life, are few, in comparison to those of many others. In cities, many, to be sure, amass much wealth, but elsewhere, few acquire much property, as physicians merely. In its effect upon the mind of the individual, the natural result would seem to be, a hardening process. It cannot well be otherwise, than that the constant sight of pain, and disease, and death, should lead to philosophical inquiry, and these lead to theories calculated to stifle the feelings, and deaden the sensibilities. Here, however, a distinction is to be drawn between physical insensibilty of nerve, and moral sensibility. A man may acquire great strength of nerve, and yet possess great tenderness of heart. We usually find those young men enter upon the study of medicine, after the discipline of a college life, who have evinced a love for the physical sciences, a taste for natural inquiry, while the aspiring, the turbulent, the lovers of pleasure and fame, the moot court debaters, the gallants, the club-men, choose the law. The quiet, meek-eyed student, the poetic dreamer, the elegant bellelettres scholar, the man who loves solitary walks in the woods, or by the river's side, who gazes at the stars, not as the astronomer, but in mute wonder, and boundless awe, seeks the more retired labors of the divine, and kindles the lamp of his inspiration at the source of all knowledge.

Thus far, we have confined our remarks to those who labor in what are called the professions. In another and concluding number, we shall dwell upon the occupations of the mechanic trades.

A VISIT TO THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS.

Nor all the luxury and brilliancy of this fascinating capitol, of whose intoxicating pleasures I had drank deeply enough, could reconcile me to the thought of being compelled to abandon a visit to the great catacombs, which undermine the south-eastern quarter of the city. I had, when a child, got possession of an old Galignani, which a connexion had brought from Europe, in those days when to have travelled beyond the Atlantic was a distinction for life, and my boyish fancy was deeply worked upon by the mysterious terrors of that subterranean city of the dead. Those long walls of leg and arm bones, piled with such curious regularity, with their layers of sculls at regular distances - ghastly ornaments in this architecture of death still to be seen in the clumsy engravings that adorn the twentieth edition of the 'Guide,' filled my imagination with inexpressible terror. And though, at the period of my residence in Paris, these vaults had long ceased to be opened to the public, and consequently, to figure among the great curiosities of the capital, the desire I had always felt to explore them myself, retained as strong a

hold upon me as ever. I communicated my wishes to a gentleman,

then the Vice Consul of the United States,* and I was not a little discouraged on hearing that he had been, for several years, in vain soliciting permission to visit them himself. This favor, though so long denied, I have reason to believe, was at last accorded to him. An acquaintance I had fortunately formed with a gentleman holding a very high office under the government, in the engineer service, was the means of procuring me the leave I was so anxious to obtain. As a precaution against the danger of being lost among the intricate and intersecting passages of which this vast labyrinth is composed, and to guard against the possibility of a whole party being destroyed, for the want of the means of sending for relief, in the event of the sudden sinking of any part of the irregular archworks which supports the ground above the excavations, I was informed that it would be necessary to procure several persons to accompany me, in addition to the guide. To prevent confusion, the number was limited, the person deputed to accompany us having received instructions to admit a party of eight. I was told it would be necessary to descend by night, to avoid attracting attention, or giving any unnecessary publicity to our visit. It was generally understood that the dangerous condition of the catacombs, which had been excavated with little skill, or attention to render them secure, was the reason which led the government, several years before, to prohibit the admission of visiters; and that a large number of workmen were constantly engaged, under the direction of the engineer department, in repairing and strengthening the walls and pillars which sustain the portion of the city built above. Much uneasiness had been felt among the inhabitants of that quarter of the capitol, in consequence of one or two alarming accidents; and it was hoped that, by entirely closing them to the public, the alarm would sooner subside. The apprehensions of the people were not entirely unfounded. The sudden sinking of a house, some seventy feet under ground, an occurrence which left a fearful impression on the public mind, was a more real cause

*THIS amiable and accomplished young gentleman, Mr. BRADFORD, of New-York, had, greatly to his own credit and the public benefit, acted for some time as Consul, previously to the appointment of Mr. BRENT, the present popular officer; he subsequently discharged the duties of the office of Vice Consul. His untimely death, (which occurred during the last winter,) will be long regretted by the large circle of friends, composed of Americans from every quarter of the Union, which he had formed during his official residence in Paris. His attentive politeness and unaffected kindness of heart, will not be the less gratefully remembered, for its contrast with the rudeness, heartlessness, and vulgarity, which, I blush to confess, has but too frequently disgraced our own agents and ministers abroad. Lest this language should appear unwarrantably harsh, I will, at the risk of extending this note beyond the patience of the reader, mention one of many circumstances of a similar character, which have come within the limited sphere of my own knowledge. A young American, an artist, of small means, but of great worth and promise, was in - prosecuting the study of his profession. Some accident unexpectedly reduced him to the most distressing want. While waiting for remittances from his friends in this country, his slender resources became entirely exhausted; he was reduced to his last frauc. A few dollars were sufficient to relieve him. In this state of almost literal starvation, he applied to the American Chargé for temporary assistance. His character was unblemished, and his connexions of the most respectable character, and affectionately attached to him, as the letters in his possession abundantly proved. The reply he received, from one who should be, officially, the friend of every American abroad, was, 'that any man who couldn't make his own living, ought to throw himself in the -,' and with this recommendation he was turned from his door. To those who are aware that every American sailor has a right to demand assistance from any consul of his own country abroad, whenever he may find himself in want, and who know how frequently the nets which are dragged through this river bring up the bodies of men who have sought death in one form only to avoid it an another more terrible, that reply will exhibit in a far more atrocious light the spirit of this wretched agent, than it can appear to persons who have never lived but in our own abundant country. The refusal of assistance was niggardly and disgraceful, but the language in which it was conveyed, was more than inhuman- it was brutal.