am about to relate. Alas! I scarcely know how to do so! You know, uncle, I was always a decidedly plain girl, and he was a passionate admirer of beauty: he forgot his engagement to me, and they pronounced him dishonoured when he married an obscure individual, whose virtuous conduct and fascinations of person formed the only excuse for so rash and imprudent an act. Disinherited by his own father, who died soon after, and utterly discarded by mine, who never forgave the slight, Cecil Trevor disappeared from the world altogether; and I heard that he had accepted a distant curacy, obtained through the kindness of a college friend, which barely afforded support for his family. Thither former clamorous creditors followed; debts and difficulties unceasingly harassed and oppressed him; and in six years from the date of his marriage, this high-spirited and gifted being sunk broken-hearted into the grave. On his deathbed he wrote to my father, who was then insensible, and on the eve of dissolution, imploring his interest on behalf of the widow and four children, who were left utterly destitute and unprotected. A few weeks afterwards, I made my way to poor Cecil's grave, and clasped his orphans to my heart. Mrs Trevor never recovered the shock of her husband's loss, to whom she had been tenderly attached, and continued ill health prevented her from making any personal exertions. It was impossible to separate Mary from her afflicted mother, so that her education has been much neglected; but she is an apt scholar, and a docile, affectionate child; and when she lost her surviving parent a few months ago, and came to reside with us, through the kind permission of my sisters, I felt as if some long-lost happiness had arisen within me, for now she is all my own. Cecil, my eldest son (you smile, dear uncle), is at college; he has shown a decided predilection for the church, and as I wish to give his brothers the same advantages, I am rather straitened for means sometimes. Now, can you understand my impertinent speech, dear uncle, and why I desire your assistance some day? Ah! could you but see my three boys, how good and beautiful they are, you too would love these fatherless ones!' And is it possible, Jenny,' said Mr Dynevor, that you have done all this for the children of him who slighted and rejected you? Either your Christian charity must be perfect, or you must have loved Cecil Trevor to an extraordinary degree.' This is indeed true love, Jenny!' exclaimed Mr Dynevor; and you are a noble creature. You must introduce me to your adopted sons; little Mary is my pet already, you know. Ha, ha! and so the old uncle has found a family ready made for him, with plenty of calls on his purse it would seem!' Mr Dynevor embraced the earliest opportunity of informing his elder nieces that he was acquainted with the facts of Geneviève's story from her own lips: those worthy ladies added still further information, for they expatiated on their sister's generous conduct, how she had entirely devoted her time and fortune to comfort and support Cecil Trevor's widow and children; they dwelt on her self-denial, utter self-forgetfulness, her serenity, and uncomplaining cheerfulness of disposition. These were themes which the Misses Dynevor never wearied of; and although they did not speak of the conduct of the disinherited' in the same extenuating terms as Geneviève did, yet they allowed that he had died a humbled and a penitent man. He never was worthy of our sister,' softly ejaculated Miss Rosabel. It would be difficult to meet with any one who was,' peremptorily added Miss Dynevor; to which assertion her uncle cordially assented. Mr Dynevor never again was at a loss how to dispose of his riches; and when surrounded, as he frequently SNAKES IN AUSTRALIA. MANY emigrants who arrive in Australia entertain exaggerated notions respecting the dangers arising from snakes. It is true all are of a venomous nature; but comparatively few persons suffer from them. The most common species are of various shades of brown, black, or slate colour; and in size they range from 12 or 14 inches to as many feet in length. It is believed generally that the smaller varieties are the most venomous; but there are scarcely grounds for this supposition, for I have known death to have repeatedly resulted from bites inflicted by the larger kinds. They differ in many points from the serpents of other countries, nor is there any representative of the rattlesnake family in Australia. They in general frequent certain localities in preference to others, and it is dangerous to walk in the bush in some places without particular caution; and no one should sit down upon any fallen half-decayed tree without a previous inspection of the spot. Twice in one forenoon, during a shooting excursion, did a gentleman, in stepping over fallen timber, very nearly place his foot each time upon a large brown snake, although he walked very circumspectly; and on the borders of a swamp near George's River I have known a dozen to be killed in the same space of time. The largest kind is, I believe, a species of boa, called by the colonists in general the diamond-snake,' from the shape of the spots marking its skin: the names given to the different varieties are, however, conflicting, and vary in different localities. It sometimes attains to the length of 12 or 14 feet, but in general is much smaller. Respecting one of these, the following incident lately occurred:-A youth of ten years one day took a stroll in the neighbouring bush. He was walking along the margin of a swamp, when he espied a large diamond-snake lying coiled up in a pretty deep hollow, formed by the uprooting of a tree, and a little watching assured him of its being asleep. Not at all afraid, he cut a large stick with his pocket-knife, and sharpened one end, for he had noticed that the reptile lay with its head flat to the ground, and he did not wish to bruise its skin, for he had a brother who was studying medicine in Scotland, who had expressed a wish for specimens of natural history, and he considered this a good opportunity of securing a very fine one. He thought he could manage to pin it down by the neck, and then cut its throat with his pocket-knife, keeping it all the time in the hole it was then lying in, where he had it at advantage. He crept up, and succeeded cleverly enough in doing the first; but the last was no easy task: he had never before seen so large a snake, and had no conception of its strength. It was fortunate that the stick was strong and sharp, for he thus kept its head down, though, owing to the softness of the soil, he did so with difficulty; but he speedily found that instead of cutting its throat, he would be lucky if he could cut his new acquaintance in any way; for in spite of his precautions, the snake got its tail partly hooked round one of its assailant's legs, and the danger was imminent if more of the body should coil round. After many minutes' hard fighting, he managed, by a dexterous jerk, to cast off the portion entangled, and then threw the end of the pole from him, and the snake shaking himself free, would have made off; but his antagonist was determined not to lose him, and being now not so particular about the skin, a few blows from the heavy stick soon settled the business. He hung him over a low bough, and went for aid to carry him home; but on his return, it was discovered twined amongst the topmost boughs. The visitor, however, mounted, and uncoiling the folds, jerked him down, as it was now powerless for mischief. It measured more than 10 feet in length, and was of considerable thickness. It was thought a bold act for so young a lad to attack alone so formidable a reptile. In large towns there is seldom any chance of danger arising, although I have sometimes known carts, sent into the bush to collect firewood, to be the means of bringing snakes into Sydney; the wood selected being decayed, and often hollow, affording the opportunity of the reptiles' conveyance. A gentleman in that town once lost a valuable dog from the bite of one thus introduced into the yard where the animal was kept. Upon one occasion a man who was collecting fuel had a very narrow escape; he displayed great presence of mind; had it been otherwise, he in all probability would have been bitten. He had raised a large log upon his shoulder, and was about to carry it to the cart, when suddenly a snake glided over the wood close to his face and slipped off at the instant he flung the log from him. With the same movement he looked down, but no reptile was there; the ground at that spot was quite bare, and could not have concealed it; nor was it hidden in anyway by the wood. In short, he instantly became aware of the unpleasant fact, that the snake was in his pocket! He had on, besides his shirt, a pair of loose trousers, fastened round his waist by a leathern belt, the right pocket of which was large, and its flap hanging wide open; and into its open mouth had the reptile slipped on falling. For some time he stood, expecting every moment to see the head thrust out; but it kept still. With a quiet and gentle hand, therefore, he unbuckled the belt of his trousers, and slowly drew his feet together; and then gradually lowering the garment to his ankles, he cleverly freed his feet from the folds, the latter process being the more dangerous, as his bare legs might have suffered had the reptile then protruded its head. He then drew the trousers along by one leg, and shook out and killed it. One variety is called the 'carpet-snake,' from the peculiar pattern formed by the colouring of its skin. These are fatally venomous. A party in an orchard were once much alarmed: one of their number having ascended a peach-tree to procure some of the fruit, had nearly grasped the folds of a carpet-snake, which was coiled up amongst the leaves. The fright of the discovery caused him to fall to the ground, though luckily without much injury in consequence. This snake was killed, as was also another by the same party, as it swam across the Nepean river; indeed I believe that most snakes can swim well, and that many errors have arisen by persons describing water serpents, which were in reality common land snakes. The banks of rivers, and particularly the margins of small creeks, are favourite places of resort for them in very hot weather. Some of the smaller varieties are beautiful. One day, at a villa a few miles from Sydney, a lady stepping out from the window of the drawing-room on to the lawn, observed lying on the gravel walk a small crooked stick, finely covered with different-coloured mosses, as she thought. She stooped to pick it up, and examine it narrowly. It was a small snake!-one of the most deadly kind. Luckily she held it so slightly, that its first struggle caused it to slide from her grasp. She wished to have it preserved, on account of its beauty; but the gardener severed it with his spade. Although perhaps there are scarcely any entirely harmless snakes in Australia, similar to those which sometimes inhabit the houses in the West Indies, it is probable that many are venomous, without being necessarily fatally so. Some gentlemen were once shooting in the woods in company with a black native, when one of them was bitten by a snake, which the black fellow fortunately saw before it escaped. The sufferer almost immediately became very ill, sick, and faint; | and naturally concluding he was doomed, he hastily pulled out his pocket-book, in order to leave some dying directions in writing. The black fellow, however, comforted him by the assurance of 'Baal you die yet; only murry yalla, by and by directly'-( You will not die yet; but only turn very yellow soon.') Nor did he die; and he did turn very yellow, although I could not ascertain whether this was owing to any action upon the liver causing retention of the bile, or to some other effect of the virus. He had The inhabitants of Windsor once had an opportunity of witnessing the operation of sucking the wound caused by a snake-bite, as performed by a black fellow. The man bitten was employed in making the three-railed fences which in the colony are the substitutes for the more picturesque hedgerows used at home. stooped to lift a fence from a heap on the ground, and was bitten in the act; he was alone at the time, and had endeavoured to reach the town, which was at no great distance; but his strength had failed, and he was found lying in the middle of the road, vainly endeavouring to drink at a puddle collected there. He was carried into town, and a black fellow immediately summoned. Upon his arrival, making a great parade of the occasion and his office, he called for some salt; and placing a quantity in his mouth, began to suck. He pulled away for a long time, often causing great pain to the patient; and then, indicating that no one was to follow and watch him, he ran off for some distance in the bush. Curiosity induced one or two to creep after; and they approached near enough to observe that he spat with great vehemence, and with wild gestures; and, as they thought, with strange words in his own language. In about a quarter of an hour he came running back at full speed, saying he had not got it all yet; and recommenced sucking with renewed vigour; which he continued doing for many minutes more, and then repeated his former manœuvres. In half an hour he sauntered back quite composed, and told the man he would not die. He did recover. The lady above-mentioned who mistook a snake for a moss-covered stick, was once witness to a remarkable instance of fascination by terror, caused by the unexpected and sudden sight of a large serpent. She was strolling with a female companion in a spot where, owing to the frequent occurrence of little patches of low scrub, they were often slightly separated. Finding herself alone, after walking a little time, Miss B- turned to look for her companion, and saw her standing at some distance, apparently looking fixedly at some object a little way before her. After waiting a few moments, she spoke, but received no answer; and observing that her friend still kept the same posture, which was rather a strange one, she walked towards her, and when near enough to distinguish her features, was quite frightened at her appearance. One hand was placed, as for support, against a young sapling which grew by her side; the other was extended before her, at arms-length, in the manner of repelling; the body was slightly drawn back, the head thrown forward. Her eyes were fixed, distended, and glaring; the lips apart; there was no heaving of the chest; the whole frame was rigid and motionless. Miss B was terri fied beyond measure: she again spoke, but, as before, received no reply: she looked in the direction of her companion's gaze, but saw nothing, the ground for many yards being scattered over with a thin scrub. She moved closer up to her side, and again looked, and for a few moments was almost as much terrified. On the ground, at a few yards' distance, partly coiled, as though ready to spring, with its hideous head erect, and its fiery blasting eyes gleaming with malignity, its fangs exposed, and its forked tongue playing with a quick and tremulous motion-which, in the afternoon's sun, assumed the appearance and coruscations of a minute stream of lightning-was a huge snake. Mrs A- made a movement forwards, as though impelled irresistibly; and this recalled her companion from her momentary trance of terror, who seized her by the arm It must not be supposed for an instant, however, that JOHN FOSTER THE ESSAYIST. JOHN FOSTER, whose essays are justly ranked among the most original and valuable works of the day, was born in 1770, in the Vale of Todmorden, whose serene beauties, and the quiet associations of humble life, may be said to have moulded his retiring habits and vigorous cast of thought. Like Hall, Mr Foster was pastor of a Baptist congregation; and after running his useful course, he died in 1843, at Stapleton, near Bristol, where he had resided for the last thirty years of his life. Further than these few particulars, it is unnecessary to say anything biographically of Foster. The remarkable thing about him was his ardent and pure thinking. If ever there was a man who may be said, in the language of the old paradox, to have been never less alone than when alone, and never more occupied than when at leisure,' that man was John Foster. The exercises of the Christian ministry, in which a considerable portion of his life was engaged, were conducted for the most part in a noiseless manner, and in the shadiest nooks of the field of labour; so that when his now celebrated essays came forth to the public, they were to all, but a few, virtually anonymous publications. No one who has deeply acquainted himself with these admirable productions, will need to have repeated to him that profound laborious thought was the business of Foster's life; and the absence of this mental habitude in others, especially in those who occupied the more conspicuous positions in society, was often lamented by him with a bitterness which might almost have been mistaken for misanthropy. that this unusual copiousness of modifying epithets and clauses arose from that fulness of thought, and consequent necessity for compression, which compelled him, if he must prescribe limits to his composition, to group in every sentence, and around every main idea, a multitude of attendant ones, which a more diffuse writer would have expanded into paragraphs. Hence his writings are not really obscure, but only difficult, demanding the same vigorous exertion of thought in the reader which is exercised in the writer. The observation, therefore, of the late Robert Hall, in his wellknown review of Foster's Essays, appears to be more ingenious and beautiful than critically correct. The error, however, if it be such, might almost have been expected from so perfect a master of the euphonous style as Mr Hall-a writer who, in the words of Dugald Stewart, combined all the literary excellencies of Burke, Addison, and Johnson. The author,' says Mr Hall, has paid too little attention to the construction of his sentences. They are for the most part too long, sometimes involved in perplexity, and often loaded with redundancies. They have too much of the looseness of a harangue, and too little of the compact elegance of regular composition. An occasional obscurity pervades some parts of the work. The mind of the writer seems at times to struggle with conceptions too mighty for his grasp, and to present confused masses rather than distinct delineations of thought. This is, however, to be imputed to the originality, not the weakness, of his powers. The scale on which he thinks is so vast, and the excursions of his imagination are so extended, that they frequently carry him into the most unbeaten track, and among objects where a ray of light glances in an angle only, without diffusing itself over the whole.' Reference has been made to the solitary habits of Mr Foster's life. It must not be supposed, however, that he was, to use his own expression, the 'grim solitaire.' He chose as the partner of his retirement a lady whose talents and force of character he ever held in high and deserved respect. It is generally believed that when Mr Foster proposed to her that union which subsequently took place, she declared that she would marry no one that had not distinguished himself in the literature of his day, and Foster's Essays in Letters to a Friend' were the billets-doux of this extraordinary courtship. It is amusing to recollect that after the first evening which Foster spent in company with his future wife, he described her as a 'marble statue surrounded with iron palisades.' The high walls with which his residence at Stapleton was surrounded, and which permitted not a glimpse of the house or garden, seemed to proclaim inaccessibility, and to say to the visitor, as plainly as walls can speak, No admittance.' No sooner, however, were these difficulties surmounted by the good offices of an old servant, who seemed a sort of natural appendage to her master, than a charming contrast was felt between the prohibitory character of the residence and the impressive but delightful affability of the occupant. His only hobby was revealed by the first glance at his apartments. The choicest engravings met the eye in every direction, which, together with a profusion of costly illustrated works, showed that if our hermit had in other respects left the world behind him, he had made a most self This habit of mind showed itself in a remarkable manner both in his ministerial exercises and in his ordinary conversation. The character of both was such, as to impress upon the hearer the notion that he was merely thinking aloud. There was no physical animation or gesture, none of that varied intonation which commonly graduates the intensity of excitement. He threw out all the originality of his views, and the bound-indulgent reservation of the arts. less variety of his illustrations, in a deep monotonous tone, which seemed the only natural vehicle for such weighty, comprehensive conceptions. This was only varied by an earnest emphasis, so frequent in every sentence, as to show how many modifying expressions there were which it was necessary to keep in distinct view, in order fully to realise the idea of the speaker. It may be added here, though it would be impossible, in a brief sketch like the present, to touch upon such a subject otherwise than in passing, that the same peculiarity is obvious in all his published productions. To a superficial reader their style might seem loaded and redundant, but on closer examination, it will be found But the great curiosity of the house was a certain mysterious apartment, which was not entered by any but the recluse himself perhaps once in twenty years; and if the recollection of the writer serves him, the prohibition must have extended in all its force to domestics of every class. This was the library. Many intreaties to be favoured with the view of this seat of privacy had been silenced by allusions to the cave of Trophonius, and in one instance to Erebus itself, and by mock-solemn remonstrances, founded on the danger of such enterprises to persons of weak nerves and fine sensibilities. At length Mr Foster's consent was ob│tained, and he led the way to his previously uninvaded fastness-an event so unusual, as to have been mentioned in a letter which is published in the second volume of his Life and Correspondence.' The floor was occupied by scattered garments, rusty firearms, and a hillock of ashes from the grate which might well be supposed to have been the accumulation of a winter, while that which ought to have been the writing-desk of the tenant was furnished with the blackened remains of three dead pens and a dry inkstand by way of cenotaph. Around this grotesque miscellany was ranged one of the selectest private libraries in which it was ever the good luck of a bibliomaniac to revel. The choicest editions of the best works adorned the shelves, while stowed in large chests were a collection of valuable illustrated works in which the book-worm, without a metaphor, was busy in his researches. A present of Coleridge's‘Friend'from the book-shelves is retained by the writer as a trophy of this sacrilegious invasion. It will readily be supposed, from what has been said of the secluded habits of Mr Foster, that the intercourse of friendship must have been greatly sustained by means of correspondence. From the frequency of personal and private references in letters, a large proportion of such compositions must in all cases be withheld from the public eye, from ordinary motives of delicacy. Happily, however, without any violation of this decorum, a large body of Mr Foster's correspondence has been given to the world, the perusal of which by those who were not privileged with his friendship, must have mingled a more tender feeling with the admiration excited by his genius. The unrepressed exudation of his nature in these compositions invests them with the same charm which has been noticed as attaching to his conversation which we have designated as thinking aloud.' His accessibility by the young was one of the most beautiful features in his character, and will remind those of Mr Burke, who are acquainted with the more private habits of his life. The exquisite and redundant kindness of his letters to young friends is perfectly affecting, and show how necessarily simplicity and condescension are the attributes of true intellectual and moral greatness. It would be next to impossible to convey to any one who was not acquainted with Mr Foster a correct impression of his personal appearance. His dress was uncouth, and neglected to the last degree. A long gray coat, almost of the fashion of a dressing gown; trousers which seemed to have been cherished relics of his boyhood, and to have quarrelled with a pair of gaiters, an intervening inch or two of stocking indicating the disputed territory; shoes whose solidity occasionally elicited from the wearer a reference to the equipments of the ancient Israelites; a coloured silk handkerchief, loosely tied about his neck, and an antique waistcoat of most uncanonical hue-these, with an indescribable hat, completed the philosopher's costume. In his walks to and from the city of Bristol (the latter frequently by night) he availed himself at once of the support and protection of a formidable club, which, owing to the difficulty with which a short dagger in the handle was released by a spring, he used jocosely to designate as a 'member of the Peace Society.' So utterly careless was he of his appearance, that he was not unfrequently seen in Bristol during the hot weather walking with his coat and waistcoat over his arm. This eccentricity gave rise to some curious mistakes. On one occasion, while carrying some articles of dress, in the dusk of the evening, to the cottage of a poor man, he was accosted by a constable, who, from his appearance, suspected they were stolen, some depredations of the kind having been recently committed in the neighbourhood. Mr Foster conducted the man to the seat of an opulent gentleman, with whom he was engaged to spend the evening; and the confusion of the constable may be easily imagined when he was informed of the name of his prisoner, who dismissed him with hearty praise for his diligence and fidelity. His was one of those countenances which it is impossible to forget, and yet of which no portrait very vividly reminds us. His forehead was a triumph to the phrenologist, and surrounded as it was by a most uncultivated wig, might suggest the idea of a perpendicular rock crowned with straggling verdure; while his calm but luminous eye, deeply planted beneath his massive brow, might be compared to a lamp suspended in one of its caverns. In early life, his countenance, one would suppose, must have been strikingly beautiful; his features being both regular and commanding, and his complexion retaining to the last that fine but treacherous hue which probably indicated the malady that termi nated his life. His natural tendency to solitary meditation never showed herself more strikingly than in his last hours. Aware of the near approach of death, he requested to be left entirely alone, and was found shortly after he had expired in a composed and contemplative attitude, as if he had thought his way to the mysteries of another world. SHOPS. WHEN Charles Lamb was asked his opinion of the Vale of Keswick, and the Hills of Ambleside, he frankly acknowledged that there was more pleasure for him in the London shop-windows, when lighted up and full in the frosty evenings before Christmas. This answer, though odd and unexpected, is not surprising. Where, in the wide world, is there such an exposition of artistic wealth and magnificence as is seen daily in the London shop-windows? No doubt some of the shops of Paris and New York rival anything of the kind in the British metropolis; but, taken as a whole, the stock and the array of the London shops are unmatchable. All Orientals and Africans on visiting Europe for the first time are most struck with the splendour of the shops. There was nothing unreasonable in the request of an African king's son, whose tribe had been serviceable to the French settlements on the Senegal, in return for which the young prince was taken under the protection of Louis XIV., and sent to receive an education in Paris. After having seen and been astonished at the French capital, Louis inquired of him what would be the most desirable present for his father, promising that whatever he selected should be sent, when the youth exclaimed, with a look of the most imploring | earnestness, Mighty monarch, let me send him a shop!' There is a curious instance of mistaken politeness recorded of the first Chinese ambassador at the court of Versailles. For the first few days of his residence he never passed the shop-window of an eminent hairdresser without performing the great houto, or ceremony of nineteen prostrations, before the waxwork fashionables it contained, supposing them, as it was at length discovered, to represent the gods of the western barbarians, placed there for public adoration in a richlydecorated temple. Such a mistake was natural for a Chinese. In his country, as well as throughout the whole East, the ornaments and magnitude of European shops are unknown. What may be called the grandeur of commerce is confined to the bazaar, a species of covered market-place, or rather temporary arcade, the greater part of which is composed of mere booths or sheds; and even there the display consists merely of quantities of merchandise, with little arrangement, less accommodation, and scarcely any of that ornamental ingenuity and minute attention to business which renders the shopkeeping of Europe so complicated and remarkable. The money-snaring machinery,' as a late divine called it, with which most of our readers, especially in large towns, are acquainted, is not yet dreamed of by the Orientals. The ample room, the front of plate-glass, the costly fittings-up, and the splendid effects of Bude lights and mirrors; the various functionaries employed, from the card distributor to the recorder of unpersuaded customers; and the innumerable modes of printed advertisement, more or less practised by all our commercial world, merge in Asia into a small dingy room or tent, with a wide door, before which sits the merchant of silks or diamonds, as the case may be-the former article lying in piles around him, and the latter spread so as to display their size and quality to the best advantage on a table before him; while a slave at the door loudly enumerates all, and generally much more than could be found within; and another stands by to assist the merchant in the display of his goods, and show them occasionally, by way of confirmation to the statements of his companion at the door. Such are the establishment and assistants employed by the wealthiest and most enterprising merchants among the primitive Asiatics, with the exception of some camels and their drivers, required for the carriage of goods in the celebrated caravans. These humble accommodations are considered perfectly sufficient; but commerce in Asia, though it occupies a somewhat limited and subordinate position compared with that of Europe, has a species of peculiar etiquette, which, however grotesque it would appear to a London merchant, is regarded by its disciples as indispensable to business. The Armenians, who divide with the Greeks and Jews the entire mercantile department of Western Asia, are accustomed to sit down and weep bitterly when they have sold any article of value, declaring that the purchaser has ruined them. The Jews, on similar occasions, rend their garments, which are said to be worn purposely for the sacrifice, with still louder protestations of ruin. In later years, owing to the influx of European travellers and manners, these demonstrations have become less violent, and are evidently but an Eastern version of the enormous sacrifices and unprecedented bargains' set forth in our British advertisements. The Greek shopkeepers, in most of the Turkish towns, send a crier through the city to proclaim the arrival of new goods and their prices, every announcement being regularly concluded with a declaration that his employer is ruining himself, but must sell. At the great winter fairs of Asiatic Russia, merchants are to be found from the most remote cities of Hindoostan and Eastern Tartary; and travellers who have visited those scenes bring back curious accounts of their commercial fashions. The Mingrelians, who generally deal in the meerschaum pipes so highly prized and frequently imitated in Europe, consider it incumbent on them to absolutely refuse selling their goods to any customer, and the latter is expected to employ himself at least an hour in persuading the merchant to deal with him. Eastern time is not yet estimated according to railway reckoning. But a still more extraordinary custom prevails among the merchants of Thibet, famous for bringing the celebrated Cashmere shawls, the best quality of which is known to be manufactured in their country, a regular stand-up fight being required to take place between the seller and the purchaser on the disposal of any considerable quantity, the former obstinately rejecting the price to which he has already agreed, and the latter as resolutely forcing it upon him. Nor is it considered business-like to settle matters till a few blows have been exchanged on both sides, after which they peaceably shake hands, and the bargain is concluded. The Chinese carry on commerce more regularly than any other nation of the East; but those who come with tea to the Siberian fairs never transact business with their Russian customers till after what they designate a polite silence of half an hour, during which the parties sit looking at each other, chewing green ginger and tobacco; and their shopkeepers, whether at home or abroad, have a habit by no means unknown in Britain -namely, that of asking twice the amount they expect to receive. Such are the courtesies and attractions of Oriental business; nor does it greatly differ in either appearance or practice from that of ancient Europe. From the scattered and scanty observations left us by old authors, it appears that the shopkeepers of the classic world were in the habit of standing in their doors, extolling the quality and cheapness of their goods to the passerby, swearing by Jupiter they had no profit on every article they sold, and placing their entire stock and premises under the protection of Mercury, the reputed god of thieves. Their mercantile accommodations in some respects corresponded to their habits. Even in Rome, when it was called the metropolis of the world, the richest shops were front apartments of small houses, the back-rooms of which the owner and his family inhabited; and the greater part of them were subdivisions of the ground-flats of houses belonging to the wealthier classes, from whom they were rented at no small valuation, as shops were reckoned among the sources of income by the nobility of Rome; and Cicero states in one of his letters that his had become so ruinous, as neither to be occupied by mice nor men. The earliest and best-preserved specimens of ancient shops were discovered by excavations made at Pompeii. The description of one of them, supposed to have been a cook's, is thus given by a writer on the subject: The whole front was entirely open, excepting in so far as it was occupied by a broad counter of masonry, into which were built four large jars of baked earth, their tops even with the surface of the counter; behind were two small rooms containing nothing of importance. The traces of a staircase indicate that there was an upper floor. At night the whole front was closed by shutters, sliding in grooves cut in the lintel and basement-wall before the counter and by the door. There was an oven at the end of the counter farthest from the street, and three steps on the left, which were presumed to support different sorts of vessels or measures for liquids.' Another of better description was of the same form; but the interior was gaily painted in blue panels, with red borders, and its counter was faced and covered with marble. The dimensions of the Pompeiian shops may be guessed from an inscription found among their ruins, which states that Julia Felix, probably a lady of rank, owned no less than nine hundred of them; and the excavators remarked that no entire house appeared occupied with business. In those times commerce was in every sense conducted on a low and limited scale, and the pursuit of it seems to have been regarded, as it is still in the East, a somewhat inferior calling. Neither Greece nor Rome could boast those merchants, princely in character and fortune, by whose enterprise and liberality the maritime kingdoms of Christendom have so largely benefited. During the ninth and tenth centuries, when Europe was in a state of complete anarchy and barbarism, owing to the dissolution of Charlemagne's empire, the Mohammedan invasions from the East, and the continual incursions of the northern Sea-kings, the only remnants of commerce that existed were in the hands of the Lombards, a Gothic people, who, having settled in Northern Italy, hence called Lombardy, on the ruin of the Roman power, were, after centuries of possession, driven out by Charlemagne for making war against the Pope; and being of the Arian faith, none of the Catholic princes would allow them to settle on their lands. The Lombards therefore betook themselves to traffic; and their style of conducting it was highly characteristic of the period. Their shops, or rather warehouses, were situated in the most solitary parts of Flanders and Lower Germany, built in the fortress fashion, with donjon keep and battlements, surrounded by a moat, which could be filled or emptied at pleasure by means of sluices; but there was no drawbridge allowed, all goods and customers being drawn up by a basket and pulley to the main entrance, a narrow stone-cased door about half way up in the building. Here the merchants lived in a kind of monastic society, bound by the strictest vows of celibacy and secrecy regarding the mysteries of their trade, and venturing forth only in well-armed companies-the military exercises being part of their daily avocations-for the purchase and transfer of goods from distant cities; on which occasions |