in the morning, and drank his bottle of wine after dinner. Upon one occasion he invited a large party to meet his son, who had become Lord Chancellor, when the whole company sat late except the latter, who took his leave at the decorous hour of twelve. "Come," said the aged earl, "now the old gentleman is gone, we can manage to take another bottle.”

TRANSFORMATIONS.

Some would trace the pope himself, with his triple crown on his head, and the keys of heaven and hell in his pocket, to our old acquaintance Cerberus, with his three heads, who kept guard as the custos of Tartarus and Elysium.

Be this as it may-the pun of Swift is completely realized. The very same piece, which the Romans adored, now, with a new head on its shoulders-like an old friend with a new face--is worshipped with equal devotion by the modern Italians; and Jupiter appears again, with as little change of name as of materials, in the character of the Jew, Peter. And, as if they wished to make the resemblance as perfect as possible, they have, in imitation of the

Centum aras posuit, vigilemque, sacraverat ignem

of his pagan prototype, surrounded the tomb of the Apostle with a hundred ever-burning lights. It is really surprising to see with what apparent fervour of devotion, all ranks, and ages, and sexes, kneel to, and kiss the toe of this brazen image; for there is certainly

nothing in the "christened Jove" of St. Peter's, as a piece of sculpture, to palliate the superstition of its votaries. They rub it against their lips, with the most reverential piety. I have sat by the hour to see the crowds of people, who flock in to perform this ceremony, waiting for their turn to kiss; and yet the catholic would laugh at the pious Mussulman, who performs a pilgrimage to Mecca, to wash the holy pavement and kiss the black stone of the Caaba-which, like his own St. Peter, is also a relic of heathenism. Alas, poor human nature! The catholic laughs at the Mussulman—we do not scruple to laugh at the catholic-the deist laughs at us-and the atheist laughs. at all. What is truth? We must wait for an answer. But though all must wait the great teacher— Death, to decide between them, let us repose our hopes and fears, with humble confidence, in the promises of Christianity; not as it appears disfigured and disguised at Rome, but as it is written and recorded in that sacred volume, which, in the words of Locke, has "God for its author, salvation for its end, and truth without any mixture of error for its matter."--Matthews.