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HENRY BROUGHAM AT SCHOOL.—Brougham was not in the class with me. Before getting to the B.ectoes class he had been under Luke Fraser ; who in his two immediately-preceding courses of four years each had the good fortune to have Francis Jeffrey and Walter Scott as his pupils. Brough- am made his first public explosion while at Fraser's class. He dared to differ from Fraser, a hot but goodnatured old fellow, on some small bit of Iatinity. The master, like other men in power, maintained his own infallibility, pun- ished the rebel, and flattered himself that the affair was over. But Broughani reappeared next day loaded with books, returned to the charge before the whole class and compelled honest Luke to acknowledge that he had been wrong. class, made Brougham famous throughout the whole school. I re- member, as well as if it had been yesterday, having had him pointed out to me as " the fellow who had beat the master."—Cockburn's Memorials of his Time.
DEFENCE OF MARLBOROUGH AGAINST MACAULLY.—Many cireumstances, we think, should have led Mr. Macaulay, in Marlborough's case, to feel misgiving as to the marvellous anomaly he has imagined. That man could not well have been consciously and ingrainedly a villain, lost to all shame, and dead to all noble and honourable feelings, whose patience and forbear- ance under the severest mortifications were as remarkable as his " serene and placid hardihood " in the midst of the most bewildering dangers ; whose humanity, even to his enefnies, was unusual in those days ; whose unfailing friendship with Prince Eugene was never clouded for one hour by the faint- est thought of jealousy or envy-, but who loved and cherished the fame and success of his friend as if it had been his own ; and whose troops almost adored him. That man could have been no desperate or grasping miser who could refuse sixty thousand a year and a post eminent enough to flatter the most insatiable ambition, for fear of giving umbrage to his allies and mar- ring the .prospects of the alliance. Nor could that man be a mean and vul- gar profligate who, in an age of unequalled and unbounded licence at a court noted for filthy language and stall filthier deeds, married early and never incurred suspicion of his conjugal fidelity, who abhorred and repressed all licentious conversation, and whose camp was a model of decency, disci- °, and order. The riddle of Marlborough's character, like the riddle of Bkeon'a, has yet to be read; and Mr. Macaulay is not the subtile analyst to decipher either.—North. British Review.
SCOTCH JUDGES REFRESHING.—At Edinburgh, the old Judges had a practice at which even their barbaric age used to shake its head. They had always wine and biscuits on the bench, when the business was clearly to be protracted beyond the usual dinner-hour. The modern Judges—those I mean who were made after 1800—never gave into this ; but with those of the preceding generation some of whom lasted several years after 1800, it was quite common. Black bottles of strong port were set down beside them on the bench, with glasses, caraffes of water, tumblers, and biscuits; and this without the slightest attempt at concealment. The refreshment was generally allowed to stand untouched, and as if despised, for a short time, during which their Lordships seemed to be intent only on their notes. But in a little, some water was poured into the tumbler, and sipped-quietly as if merely to sustain nature. Then a few drops of wine were ventured upon, but only with the water ; till at last patience could endure no longer, and a full bumper of the pure black element was tossed over; after which the thing went on regularly, and there was a comfortable munching and quaff- ing, to the great envy of the parched throats in the gallery. The strong- headed stood it tolerably well, but it told plainly enough upon the feeble. Not that the ermine was absolutely intoxicated, but it *as certainly some- times affected. This, however, was so ordinary with these sages that it really made little apparent change upon them. It was not very perceptible at a distance ; and they all acquired the habit of sitting and looking judicial enough, even when their bottles had reached the lowest ebb. This open- court refection did not prevail, so far as I ever saw, at circuits. It took a different form there. The temptation of the inn frequently produced a total stoppage of business; during which all concerned, judges and counsel, clerks, jurymen' and provosts, had a jolly dinner ; after which they re- turned again to the transportations and hangings. I have seen this done often. It was a common remark that the step of the evening procession was far less true to the music than that of the morning.—Glickburn's Memorials of his Time.
QUEEN Asian's AUGUSTAN AGE.—A while ago this used to be spoken of as the golden or Augustan age of English literature. We do not talk in that manner now. We feel that when we get among the authors of the times of Queen Anne and the First George, we are among very pleasant and very clever men, but by no means among giants. In coming down to this period from those going before it, we have an immediate sensation of having left the region of "greatness" behind us. We still find plenty of good writing, characterized by certain qualities of trimness artificial grace and the like to a degree not before attained ; here and there also, we discern something like real power and strength breaking through the prevailing element ; but, on the whole, there is an absence of what, except by a. com- promise of language, could be called "great." It is the same whether we regard largeness of imaginative faculty, loftiness of moral spirit, or vigour of speculative capacity, as principally concerned in imparting the character of " greatness" to literature. What of genius in the ideal survived the seventeenth century in England, contented itself with nice little imagina- tions of scenes and circumstances connected with the artificial life of the time ; the moral quality most in repute was kindliness or courtesy; and spe- culation did not go beyond that pouit where thought retains the form either of ordinary good sense, or of keen momentary wit. No sooner, in fact, do we pass the time of Milton, than we feel that we have done with the sub- liraities. A kind of lumbering largeness does remain in the intellectual gait of Dryden and his contemporaries, as if the age still wore the armour of the old literary forms, though not at home in ; but in Pope's days, even the affectation of the "great" had ceased.-Xasson's Biographical and Critical Essays.
MODERN FRENCH HISTORY rn THE TILL.-I was much pleased alto- gether with the little I saw of Paris. One episode was rather amusing. I went with a friend to buy a pair of gloves. In paying for them, she wanted as change one of the new five-franc pieces which had been lately struck. It was not easy to find one : the shopkeeper emptied his till, and there tumbled out Kings of France and Kings of the French, Emperors and Re- publics, a motley company. I could not help saying, after he had found the one wanted, with Louis Napoleon's head, "What next ? " The man smiled, but said nothing.-Luneer, or Smyrna and its British Hospital.
HENRY COCKBURN Izr Homn.-InMarch 1811 I married, and set up my rural household gods at Bonaly in the parish of Colinton, close by the North- ern base of the Pentland Hills ; and, unless some avenging angel shall ex- pel me, I shall never leave that paradise. I began by an annual lease of a few square yards, and a scarcely habitable farm-house. But, realizing the profanations of Auburn, I have destroyed a village and erected a tower, and reached the dignity of a twenty-acred laird. Everything except the two burns, the few old trees, and the mountains, are my own work, and to a great extent the work of my own hands. Human nature is incapable of enjoying more happiness than has been my lot here; where the glories of the prospects and the luxury of the wild retirement have been all enhanced by the progress of my improvements, of my children, and of myself. I have been too happy, and often tremble in the anticipation that the cloud must come at last. 'Warburton says that there was not a bush in his garden on which he had not hung a speculation. There is not a recess in the valleys of the Pentlands, nor an eminence on their summits, that is not familiar to my solitude. One summer I read every word of Tacitus in the sheltered crevice of a rock (called My Seat) about eight hundred feet above the level of the sea, with the most magnificent of scenes stretched out before me.- Cockburn' s Memorials of his Time.
THE FAITHLESS PERSIAN.-We brought with us to Constantinople' all the way from Tehran, two Persian men-servants and a Persian nurse. One of the former was engaged to be married to the nurse, who was a widow, on their return to Tehran. Next door to the hotel where we resided lived a fa- mily of Perotes, among whom were several young ladies remarkably well- looking. They spent several hours daily in walking up and down before their door, without bonnets or shawls, gaily attired in nicely-fitting dresses. They completely absorbed and bewildered our two Persians, who devoted the day to gazing on these houris, and in lamenting they could not take wives like these back to Persia. The nurse was forgotten ; and she became exces- sively angry, abused her betrothed, and said she could never bestow another thought on such a fool as he proved himself to be.-Lady Shell's Life and Manners in Persia.
A SOLDIER'S AVERSION TO Droorma.-The British soldier is always ready enough with his bayonet. If there is anything in the way of hard fighting to be done, commend me to full Private John Smith, as the very best man I could get for the purpose ; but when it becomes a matter of dig- ging and delving, and that, too, in a dark night, when it is difficult to de- tect skulkers, Private John Smith ceases to be a paragon of excellence. He diqlikes the work most cordially ; added to which' he does not consider it soldierlike ; and so, whenever he can find an opportunity of shirking it, he does so without hesitation. I have more than once, when remonstrating -with a defaulter on this subject, met with some such reply as the following, "Share, now, I didn't 'list for this here kind o' work. When I tuk the shillen, it was to be a sodger, and take me sentluy go right and proper, and use me baynet when I was tould to ; but I never dhieamt o' nothen o' this kind. Shure, one o' the very raisins why I listed was because I hated spade-work ; and the Sargent as tuk me swore by St. Pathrick that I should laver see a spade agin ; and yet, no sooner does I come out here, than I gits a pick and shovel Jint in me hand, just as bad as iver it was in Ould Ire-
' land."-Porter's Life in the Trenches.
WHY MIDDLE-CLASS ENGLAND MAY LOVE MONEY.-The reasons are so many. and so obvious, why the middle classes in England should desire monied miduence, apart from mere miserly considerations, that there is scarcely an excuse for the charge of sordidness so frequently hurled at their heads. The smallest and thinnest honour legally recognized usually waits upon a monied qualification ; and when you approach the better-fed and rebuster dignities, there is always something stronger than a begging- box at the door. And yet it was not by a party of commercial usurers that the property qualification of Members of Parliament was fixed. But the golden chain which bars the House of Common is light compared with that which guards the integrity, of the Peers. And if to be a peer be an honour- able thing-if to be elevated to aristocratic position, the position of the best men, be desirable-and if this can be done by money principally-who can consistently declaim against the pursuit of money for that purpose ? It may be said peers are not often created on account of their wealth, but they are never created unless they are wealthy ; and only recently a great lawyer has been snubbed by their Lordships because his comparative poverty made him look apprehensively upon hereditary honours and desire their exceptional disuse.--Ifanehester Papers.
ADVICE TO A Tom% PHYSICIAN.-Let me strongly forewarn you against one frequent error. Young physicians often dream that by extending the circle of their private acquaintances, they thus afford themselves the best chance of extending the circle of their private patients. In following out this chimerical view, much invaluable tune is frequently lost, and, what is 'worse, habits of pleasure and indolence are often, with fatal effect, substi- tuted for those habits of study and exertion that are above all price. No man will in any ease of doubt or danger intrust to your professional care the guardianship of his own life, or of the life of those who are near and dear to his heart, merely because you happen to boon terms of intimacy with him. The self-interest of human nature forbids it. To have professional faith and confidence in you, he must respect you in your calling as a physician, and not merely in your character as a social friend and companion. The qualities for which he might esteem you in the latter capacity are often the very reverse of those which would induce him to confide in you in the fomter. The accomplishments which may render you acceptable in the drawingroom are not always those that would make your visits longed for and valued in the chamber of sickness and sorrow. I repeat, therefore, that
if you, dream of making patients by making friends, you will utterly delude yourselves and damage your own prospects. By your undivided devotion to your profession, labour to create for yourselves a sound and just medicat reputation, and that reputation will create for you patienta.-Simpsotes Physicians and Physic.
AN ALEENE SLIP.-When we were crossing a narrow ridge of ice between the crevasses, one of our party who happened to be second in the line suddenly disappeared in the crevasses to our right. As Hudson was first, he had for the moment more than his proper share of the weight to support; but quickly recovering himself, he quickly disengaged his head and shoulders from the strap to which the rope was attached, and gazed down into the azure vault. The third in our line instantly drew the rope tight, and dropped with one knee on the snow. The jerk dragged his hand eight or ton inches through the soft surface, but receiving without delay the ready support of those behind, and finding that Hudson relieved him of half the tension, he easily kept his position. In the mean time we were in some anxiety, for although we felt his weight, we know not whether some injury might not have been sustained in the fall. For a second or two we listened breathlessly to the sounds of the falling axe as it rebounded from side to side. But there was no cause for anxiety. The rope was tough, and those above knew that they could extricate a single individual. Our friend, per- fectly calm and collected, desired us to lower him a couple of feet, that he might obtain standing-room on a ledge of ice. While we were on the point of complying with his request, he changed his tactics, and told us to raise him about a yard ; this accomplished, he was enabled to rest his feet on a projecting block of ice, and lean his back against the opposite side. A hachet was then handed to him, in lieu of that which he lost in the fall ; and putting his feet into the steps which he cut, he was enabled with the help of our trusty woe to regain the surface in safety.-Ascent of Mont Blanc with- out Guides.
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