position of the several stones which compose it;-and yet I must confess to a secret feeling of disappointment; but it was all my own fault; I either had forgotten, or did not correctly know, their true size; and foolishly expected, I believe, to find each particular stone as tall as a church tower. I speedily reasoned myself, however, into a proper mood, and disappointment then gave place to continually increasing admiration. For the remainder of the three miles we kept it in full view, still growing and growing, as we gained upon it, till at last we quitted the beaten road, and driving over the short dry turf, stopped immediately beneath it.

may be adopted in practice. We fully a well established and legal practice both that I could plainly discern the form and concur with him in the observation which in England and in this country. In this he makes in his Preface, that the law on this Commonwealth it is expressly authorized subject cannot be settled by statutes; "that by statute even in so important an instrua volume of laws might be enacted on this ment as a will. If we were to use the same single branch of jurisprudence, and still liberty with Mr Chipman that he has taken leave the system imperfect;-the law must with the ancient English judges, we should be settled by a course of judicial decisions." guess, that his secret reason for assailing Before we conclude, we think it our duty this practice was a little infection of the to animadvert upon one passage in this fondness for legislation with which, in his book, which is wholly gratuitous, and which remarks upon the case of Weld vs. Hadley, we were very sorry to see. It occurs on he charges his fellow citizens of Vermont. We hope the author will meet with the pages 22, 23, and is this: success that he deserves, and be encouraged to write other essays as clear and logical as this, upon the subjects which he enumerates in his Preface. Though not intended for the profession, we doubt not that in their hands they will be most useful; few people can afford to purchase law books at the high price which they must necessarily bear; and we hope the picture of an ignorant lawyer, which is drawn by Mr Chipman with so much force in his Preface, is not a picture of a majority of the profession in Vermont; we are sure it will represent very few indeed in Massachusetts.

I know it is very common for a person who can write to request a by-stander to put his name to a note; but such trifling with written instruments ought not to be permitted; it is a practice wholly unknown to the common law. Written contracts, in law and reason, hold a higher place than mere verbal contracts, not only as to the certainty of the precise terms of the contract, but as to the degree of certainty that the contract was entered into by the parties. But set aside the evidence of hand writing, and written contracts would fall below verbal contracts as it respects the certainty of their execution. Admit as proof of the execution of a note, that the defendant directed a by-stander to put his name to it, and proof of a consideration is dispensed with, as also proof of the contract on which the note was given, and should the witness be guilty of perjury, it could not be easily detect ed; beside, men are distinguished by their hand

writing, with the same degree of ease and certain ty, as by their countenances; hence, a higher degree of certainty in the proof of hand writing than in the proof of a verbal contract. The law does not, therefore, admit evidence that a third person was directed to put the defendant's name to the note, to be substituted for the more certain evidence

of the hand writing of the defendant. There is no necessity for the admission of such testimony, for if the plaintiff fail of proving the execution of the note, yet if he can prove the contract on which the note was given, he may still recover his demand.

With great deference to Mr Chipman, we must be permitted to state, that we thought the practice which he reprobates quite well known to the common law, so well indeed, that a maxim supporting it had been established from time immemorial, to wit, "Qui facit per alium facit per se." Mr Chipman admits that this is a common practice, which, alone, would, we think, be an argument in its favour. He urges the danger of perjury, and the superior certainty afforded by the evidence of handwriting. If the note were signed by an agent with his own name and the promissor's, which Mr Chipman allows to be valid, is the evidence of handwriting greater or the danger of perjury less? In such case parol proof must be given of the agents authority, which is exactly the danger against which he wishes to guard. It is not necessary in declaring on a promissory note to aver that the hand of the promissor is subscribed thereto; but in one case it was so declared, and the evidence being that it was signed by a third person in the presence and by the direction of the person whose name was written, Lord Ellenborough was inclined that the proof was sufficient to support the declaration, though if it had purported on the face of the instrument to have been signed by an agent, the variance would have been fatal.* We believe that this is

So many of the stones have fallen, that the whole seems at first sight to be a confused assemblage of enormous masses of rock; bnt after a while you discover three concentric circles of upright stones, and in the centre a single stone lying imbedded in the ground, which is called the altar. The most remarkable of these circles is the interior one, composed of huge blocks about twenty feet high, seven feet wide, and three feet thick; every two of which formerly We ought perhaps in justice to state,-a supported a third, of nearly the same size, remark which we are sorry to say is equally which has been called the impost, and which applicable to many of our modern law is rudely fastened to its two supporting pilbooks, both English and American,-that lars by a ball and socket joint. The three toneither of these works is free from typo. gether, have received the appellation of graphical errors, which offend the eye, trilithon. In this circle there are only though few of them obscure the sense. This two of these trilithons remaining entire. is the more to be regretted in the first of them, The second circle is composed of stones which are no more than seven feet high, as the typography is eminently beautiful. and are separate pillars. But in the outward circle they rise to the height of fourteen feet, and are again formed into trilithons, several of which are standing and perfect.

* See 2 Camp. 405, Helmsley vs. Loader, and 5 Esp. 180, Levy vs. Wilson,

MISCELLANY,

A VISIT TO STONEHENGE.

that huge pile (from some abyss
Of mortal power unquestionably sprung)
Whose hoary diadem of pendant rocks
Confires the shrill-voiced whirlwind, round and
round

Eddying within its vast circumference,
On Sarum's naked plain.

Wordsworth's Excursion.

September 11, 1820. STONEHENGE lies about eight miles from Salisbury; and it would have been a pity and a shame if I had left this part of the country, without visiting so remarkable an object. So this morning I jumped into a post-chaise for the purpose.

Our course was to the northwest, and soon brought us to a wide, chalky, desert tract, called Salisbury Plain. The day was hot, and the atmosphere clear; and from one of the undulating eminences which alone diversify this barren waste, I could plainly distinguish, at the distance of five miles, what I knew must be Stonehenge. The appearance was like a number of small black dots, or like a flock of sheep when they are at the distance of a mile or so from the spectator. I then lost sight of it; but from another rising in the ground, which the post boy said was three miles from it, I caught it again. It was now so distinct

There have been many theories started with respect to the purpose and origin of this monument, a number of which have been collected together and printed at Salisbury in a small pamphlet. The two most prevalent are, the one, that it is a military trophy of the ancient Britons, and the other that it is a Druidical temple. But the truth is, that there is no authentic history relating to it; and it is next to an impossibility that any thing should ever be ascertained of its design or erection; but there it stands, the gloomy monarch of this lonely plain-the hoary record of an age that has no chronicle-the mighty work of nameless men-the scene and the witness of events that have long since gone down to oblivion;-there it stands, and there it has stood, while centuries of suns have poured their fiercest beams upon it, and winter after winter has brought the driving snow, and the pelting rain, and the sweeping wind, to help time on to its destruction;-but there it stands, and there it will stand, a wonder and a monument, when our histories, like its own, are forgotten.

At the distance of fifty or sixty yards to the northeast of the main structure, and leaning towards it, is a large single stone, sixteen feet high, called the Friar's heel. This name is connected with the popular

and traditional account of the erection of
Stonehenge-not the most learned or prob-
able, perhaps, but certainly the most amus-
ing. It seems, according to this account,
that the stones which now compose Stone-
henge, were once the property of an old
woman in Ireland, and grew in her back
yard. The famous necromancer, Merlin,
having set his heart on possessing them,
mentioned the affair to the Devil, who
promised to obtain them for him. For this
purpose, assuming, which he did without the
least difficulty, the appearance of a gentle-
man, he visited the old woman, and pouring
a bag of money on her table, told her he
would give her as many of the pieces for
the stones in her ground, as she could reck-
on while he was taking them away. Think-
ing it impossible for one person to manage
them in almost any given time, she closed
with his proposal immediately, and began
forthwith to count the money; but she had no
sooner laid her hand on the first coin, than
the old one cried out, Hold! for your stones
are gone!' The old woman ran to her win-
dow, and looking out into her back yard,
found that it was really so-her stones
were gone. The Arch Enemy had, in the
twinkling of an eye, taken them all down,
tied them together, and was now flying
away with them.
As he was crossing the
river Avon, at Bulford, the string which
bound the stones became loose, and one of
them dropped into the stream, where it still
may be seen; with the rest, however, he
arrived safe on Salisbury Plain, where, in
obedience to Merlin's instructions, he be-
gan to set them up again. The work, in
the hands of such a builder, went on swim-
mingly, and the Devil was so well pleased
with it, that as he was placing the last
stone, he declared, with an intention, no
doubt, of teazing the restless curiosity of
mankind, that no one should ever know
where the pile came from, or how it came
there. In this part of the business he was
disappointed; for a Friar, who had lain
concealed about the work, loudly replied,
That is more than thou canst tell, Old
Nick.' This put the Devil in such a rage,
that pulling up the nearest stone by the
roots, he threw it at the Friar, with the de-
sign of crushing him; but the Friar was
too nimble for him-the stone only struck
his heel; and thus he gave it its present
name, and escaped to let the world know
who was the architect of Stonehenge.

6

They who still persist in giving no credit to the Friar's information, have been exceedingly puzzled in endeavouring to account for the elevation of such huge columns, in an age which must have been so rude and ignorant. The solution given by Rowland has the merit of ingenuity, although it cannot be determined that the method suggested by him was that employed by the real builders. I give it in his own words. "The powers of the lever, and of the inclined plane, being some of the first things understood by mankind in the art of building, it may be well conceived that our first ancestors made use of them; and we may imagine, that in order to erect such a prodi

gious monument as Stonehenge, they chose
where they found, or made where such
were not fit for their hands, small aggeres,
or mounds of firm and solid earth for an
inclined plane, flatted and levelled at top;
up the sloping sides of which, with great
under levers upon fixed fulciments, and with
balances at the end of them to receive into
them proportioned weights and counter-
poises, and with hands enough to guide and
manage the engines, they that way, by lit-
tle and little, heaved and rolled up those
stones they intended to erect on the top of
the hillock, where laying them along, they
dug holes in the earth at the end of every
stone intended for column or supporter, the
depth of which holes were equal to the
length of the stones, and then, which was
easily done, let slip the stones into these
holes straight on end; which stones, so sunk
and well closed about with earth, and the
tops of them level with the top of the mount
on which the other flat stones lay, it was
only placing those incumbent flat stones
upon the tops of the supporters, duly bound
and fastened, and taking away the earth
from between them almost to the bottom of
the supporters, and there then appeared
what we now call Stonehenge."

trinkets, &c. As companions to Stonehenge, these barrows add much to the effect of the scene, and heighten the feelings of contemplative solemnity which are wrought up in the bosom of the beholder. There is nothing modern near the place for miles;-here is the vast and venerable monument, and scattered here and there about it, are the primitive graves of men who were doubtless familiar with its mysteries, but whose knowledge sleeps with them, as soundly as they do. It seems as if there must be some old and mighty sympathy between these remnants of a vanished age; as if in the deep silence of the sultry noon they might meditate together on the departed glories of their time; or, when the midnight storm was high, might borrow its exulting voice to talk of their well kept secrets, of battle and of victory-while every human ear was distant, and the sailing clouds, and the glancing stars, alone looked on at their solemn dialogue.

In returning to Salisbury, I took a different road from that which brought me to Stonehenge, and at the end of two miles came to the village of Amesbury. While the postillion stopped here to refresh himself and his horses, I walked out, and passing a small, but old and pituresque church, entered the grounds of Amesbury House, a mansion belonging to Lord Douglas. The building was designed by Inigo Jones, and is a handsome looking house, but fast going to decay, as the present possessor has not inhabited it for years. The walls are defaced, \the windows boarded up, and the glass broken. The grounds are as desolate as the dwelling; the banks of the Avon, which winds through them, are overgrown with long grass and bushes, and its stream is choked with mud and reeds; a bridge, with a summer-house in the Chinese fashion built upon it, is made almost impassable by its own ruins; the path is strewn with dead leaves and withered branches; the dial stone is overturned, and there is not even

Concerning the origin and derivation of the name Stonehenge, there is as much diversity of opinion as upon any other circumstance relating to it. Inigo Jones says, "This antiquity, because the architraves are set upon the heads of the upright stones, and hang as it were, in the air, is generally known by the name of Stone-Henge." "The true Saxon name," says Gibson, in Camden's Britannia, "seems to be Stanhengest,-from the memorable slaughter which Hengist, the Saxon, here made of the Britons. If this etymology may be allowed, then that other received derivation from the hanging of stones, may be as far from the truth, as that of the vulgar Stone-edge, from stones set on edge." An anonymous writer, about the year 1660, who calls his piece "A Fool's Bolt soon shot at Stonage," appears to me to be gravely quizzing the antiquaries and etymologists;-if he is not, he is himself the most ridiculous of the whole fraternity. He pretends to have discovered every thing concerning this pile, the when, the how, the why, and the wherefore, and divides his article into twelve particulars, the second of which relates to the contested derivation. Hear it! "2. My second particular is, that a bloody battle was When I returned to the inn, I found the fought near Stonage. For the very name chaise waiting for me. The sun was now very Stonage signifies Stone-battle; the last syl-powerful, and its rays, by being reflected lable age coming from the Greek ay, a from the chalky road, were rendered doubly furious battle, &c.; so that all that have burning. Neither was there any thing in built their opinion of this monument on any the scenery to refresh the spirit and cool other foundation than a bloody battle, have the blood;-the harvest was over, and the built Stonages in the air."-But enough of fields were all dry stubble;—not a cottage this. was to be seen, nor any living thing, excepting a shepherd whom we met, with his coat stripped off and thrown over his shoulder, covered with dust, and driving a flock of panting sheep over the heated downs.

After having viewed the monument itself, the attention is attracted to the numerous barrows, or sepulchral mounds, by which it is surrounded. Several of these have been opened, and have been found to contain cinerary urns, metal and glass beads, weapons of brass and iron, cups,

"One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk, To mark where a garden had been." Feelings more deeply sad and sorrowful are perhaps inspired by scenes like this, than by the remains of a more distant age;-decay is premature, and ruin has come before its time; the traces of desolation are marked upon familiar things, and the effects of many years have overtaken the workmanship of yesterday.

Within two miles of Salisbury, and at a short distance from the road, are the ruins of Old Sarum. The only dwelling near it

silver streams glide silently toward their centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their waves, and turned them into foam."

is a humble pot-house, at which we stopped. | colours do to the eye, a sensation of re-shall take my leave of it with the followA path through its little garden leads out pose, after the contemplation of glaring ing: upon the ruins. They are very inconsidera- and offensive hues. "Look! under that broad beech tree I ble; an irregular mound of earth incloing The Complete Angler is in the form of sat down, when I was last this way a fisha space of two thousand feet in diameter, a dialogue between a Fowler, a Hunter, ing. And the birds in the adjoining grove and a yard or two of crumbling stone wall; and a Fisher, who meet together by acci- seemed to have a friendly contention with yet this place sends two members to par- dent and enter into a discussion of the an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live liament, that is, the proprietor of the land merits of their respective pursuits. The first in a hollow tree near to the brow of that sends them. Horne Tooke was once re- speaker is the Fowler, from whose pane- primrose hill. There I sat viewing the turned from this thoroughly rotten borough. gyric on his vocation, and every thing conTwo lads were ploughing immediately un- nected with it, I would make one extract. der the ramparts. "But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth.”

durus arator

Et te
Vertet, et, Urbs, dicet, hæc quoque clara fuit.
Sannazarius.

A ride of fifteen minutes more brought
us to Salisbury.
F. G.

ISAAC WALTON.

ALL the world has heard of Isaac Walton's "fascinating little volume" for all the world has read the Sketch Book-but few in this country have ever read it. Although it has passed through many editions since its first publication in 1653, it has for many years been comparatively a rare book, and I think you may have readers who will be amused by some account of the work and its author. The edition which is now before me* is in a less expensive form, than the former ones have usually been. All the engravings are omitted, which deprives the work of one charm, that the author seems to have made no small account of, observing that "he who likes not the book should like the excellent picture of the trout, and some of the other fish, which I may take a liberty to commend, because they concern not myself." The author of this celebrated treatise was born at Stafford, in the year 1593; and,

to judge from the style of his literary per

formances, must have received a good English education. Some time before the year 1624 he settled in London as a sempster or linen-draper, which employment he continued to follow till 1643, when he retired from business and spent the remainder of his life, which was protracted to the advanced age of ninety," mostly in the famihes of the eminent clergymen of England, by whom he was much beloved." He wrote the biography of Sir John Donne, Sir Henry Wotton, and other eminent persons; but the present work is the one to which he has owed his celebrity. It is chiefly remarkable for the tone of simplicity, benevo lence, and gentleness, that breathes through the whole. We feel ourselves acquainted with the author; and when we contemplate his quiet cheerfulness and primitive morality and charity, and remember that he lived through the stormy periods of the reign of Charles I., the protectorate of Cromwell, and the licentious days which succeeded the Restoration, we cannot wonder that he was, as he is said to have been, "well beloved of all good men." Amid the turmoil and vices of the time, the character of

Walton affords to the mind, what certain

*The Complete Angler of Isaac Walton and

Charles Cotton. Chiswick. 1824.

own times.

ask you a pleasant question; do you hunt
"Pisc. I pray, honest Huntsman, let me
a beast or a fish?"

There are pieces of delightful poetry
scattered through the volume; the fol-
lowing is a favourable specimen. I have
seen it lately published in a journal as the
property of an English poetess, who flour-
ished about eighty years after Walton
died. It has been accredited to divers old
authors; but is attributed by Walton him-
self to Hubbard.

And this description of the mode of cooking a pike [pickerel], which is sufficiently appetizing,

"But if this direction to catch a Pike thus do you no good, yet I am certain this direction, how to roast him when he is caught, is choicely good; for I have tried it, and it is something the better for not being common. But with my direction you must take this caution, that your Pike must not be a small one, that is, it must be more than half a yard, and should be bigger.

a

The Hunter follows, with appropriate praise of his favourite amusement, and the Fisher concludes the debate with a long dis"First, open your Pike at the gills, and course on the pleasures of angling, which if need be, cut also a little slit towards the makes a convert of the former. The Fowl- belly. Out of these take his guts; and er soon leaves them, while the Fisher goes keep his liver, which you are to shred very on through the remainder of the book, to in- small, with thyme, sweet marjoram, and a struct his new disciple in the best methods little winter-savory; to these put some of catching and cooking the various fish pickled oysters, and some anchovies, two which inhabit the streams and ponds in or three, both these last whole, for the anEngland. In the course of their walk they chovies will melt, and the oysters should meet with a party engaged in hunting the not; to these you must add also a pound of otter. On this occasion the Angler puz-sweet butter, which you are to mix with zles the Huntsman with a question near the herbs that are shred, and let them all akin to one, which has worried wiser heads be well salted. If the Pike be more than than his, even the learned in the law of our yard long, then you may put into these herbs more than a pound, or if he be less, thus mixed, with a blade or two of mace, then less butter will suffice: These, being must be put into the Pike's belly: and then his belly so sewed up as to keep all the butter in his belly if it be possible; if not, then as much as you possibly can. But take not off the scales. Then you are to thrust the spit through his mouth, out at his tail. And then take four or five or six split sticks, or very thin laths, and a convenient quantity of tape or filleting; these laths are to be tied round about the Pike's body from his head to his tail, and the tape tied somewhat thick, to prevent his breaking or falling off from the spit. Let him be roasted very leisurely; and often basted with claret wine and anchovies and butter mixed together; and also with what moisture falls from him into the pan. When you have roasted him sufficiently you are to hold under him, when you unwind or cut the tape that ties him, such a dish as you purpose to eat him out of; and let him fall into it with the sauce that is roasted in his belly; and by this means the Pike will be kept unbroken and complete. Then, to the sauce which was within, and also that sauce in the pan, you are to add a fit quantity of three or four oranges. Lastly, you may the best butter, and to squeeze the juice of either put it into the Pike, with the oysters, two cloves of garlick, and take it whole

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,
for thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,

and thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie;
My music shows you have your closes,
and all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives,
But when the whole world turns to coal,
then chiefly lives.

beautiful extracts from this little work,
I might select for your readers many
but would much rather, for their sakes,
they should seek them for themselves; and

out, when the Pike is cut off the spit; or,
to give the sauce a hogoo, let the dish into
which you let the Pike fall be rubbed with
it; the using or not using of this garlick is
left to your discretion.
M. B.
"This dish of meat is too good for any
but anglers, or very honest men; and I
trust you will prove both, and therefore I
have trusted you with this secret."
Very sensitive readers may be occasionally
surprised with a kind of professional hard-
heartedness, which mingles oddly enough
with Walton's general benignity and ten-
derness; as when, in giving directions
touching the catching of pickerel, he or-
ders his pupil to bait the hook with a living
frog, and especially requires him to pass
the barb through the struggling reptile
"as tenderly as though you loved him."

The work of Cotton, which is added to that of Walton in this edition, is a sort of imitation or continuation of it, being intended to supply the deficiencies of the latter in the particular of fly-fishing, and the manufacture of artificial flies.

AMERICAN SCHOLARSHIP.

That scholars are not always, and of necessity, sages, sounds a little too much like a truism to be illustrated at great length. GREAT differences exist between us and Upon this point common opinion may be other cultivated nations, in respect to the adduced as good evidence. The world number and character of our scholars. Our deems it impossible, that a man should be land is not cumbered with literati, so nuone of them, that he should be prompt, merous and so distinguished from all who shrewd, full of resources, conversant with follow other pursuits, as to constitute a class realities and judging wisely about them, by themselves. This fact is often mention- and at the same time a laborious, harded at home and abroad; it has been lament-reading student, a man of vast erudition, ed by Americans, and cast in their teeth by foreigners, as matter of reproach and obloquy. We grant that the circumstance exists, but are disposed to view it in a very different light; to us it appears as a proof and a promise of a better condition of national intellect than has characterized any other people.

and places for the utterance of thought. | own fancy, perhaps to fantastic or false con-
By wisdom we mean something very differ- clusions, unchecked by the restraining in-
ent;-the power of distinctly perceiving fluence of comparison or conflict with other
and rightly using those absolute truths minds. Man is essentially social, because
which should control and may improve man the needs of his nature make him so; and
as a moral and spiritual being; seeing a it is not more true, that did we not congre-
thing not only as it is in itself, but in its gate, cities could not be builded nor the
uses; and of making all attainments, all arts of life be practised, than it is that our
circumstances do service in the forming of thoughts and feelings require, nay imperi-
correct judgments upon the relations, the ously demand, perpetual and intimate asso-
duties, and the hopes which the vicissitudes ciation with our fellows. Solitude and un-
of life may offer. It is obvious,-if the disturbed meditation are often good-but
words are thus rightly used, that learning chiefly if not only good, as they serve to
is only to be valued as the instrument of ripen or store away for use, the fruits which
wisdom; and if it be equally obvious that have been gathered in society. Now the
scholars are not always sages, and that such recluse scholar has not only lost all the ad-
a condition of society, and such habits and vantage, but with the habit perhaps the
tastes as can alone create and supply a nu- power of freely interchanging his opinions
merous class of eminently learned men, and feelings with other men. Again; his
will direct the energies and efforts of the character is injured because he is accus-
finest and strongest intellect towards pur- tomed to value his acquisitions and bis ob-
suits, which lead rather from than to sound jects, by a false test. We are not about
wisdom,then it will be conceded that the to enter upon a disquisition as to the proper
want of such a class should not be lament- objects of effort, or the most useful modes
ed by us.
of employment; they are obvious enough
for our purposes; as it is obvious enough that
he who invents a steam-engine which shall
give to ten men the power of a thousand,
has done a better thing than if his ingenui-
ty were employed in suggesting an original
guess as to the position of a comma or an
accent in some questionable Greek verse.
This is an extreme case, but it serves to
illustrate the principle; and without far-
ther inquiry into the abstract nature of
utility, we would assert, or rather agree,
with what it is the fashion to assert now-a-
days, that the strong, direct tendency of
all things in the present age, is towards
utility. This, men are beginning to look
at as the end of all exertion; and things
are getting to be valued only by their pow-
er of promoting the uses of life. In this
most important respect, this age is beyond
all that have preceded it, and the nation of
which we are a part, beyond all other na-
tions; but the pertinacious industry, the
resolute self-denial, the unwavering devo-
tion of the whole mind, which are needed
to win the scholar's crown, if they are not
stimulated by a miserable and selfish ambi-
tion for empty fame, for honour without ser-
vice, suppose a thorough belief in the vast
and real importance of that which he seeks,
which must be a prejudiced, an absurd be-
lief. He is pale with hard thought and
broken sleep, and his body decays before
the morbid energy of his over-wrought
mind; but he thinks all this well and ex-
ults because he has turned over many vol-
umes and learned what many men have
thought, and written many pages for others
to read, and taken an assured rank by the
side of the "eruditissimi" whom he wor-
ships. This man may have been gifted
with commanding talents, and may have
won a high and far-reaching reputation;
but bring him forth into the concerns of
life; let him teach his weaker brethren to
forego, to neglect or avoid this useless or
evil thing and labour strenuously for that
good one; let him discriminate nicely for
them and for himself between that which is

saturated, as it were, with book-knowledge, and altogether an eminent scholar. And the world is right about it, for the thing is impossible. An eminent scholar-we use the phrase as meaning one who would take rank with those whom it would indicate in Europe, one who belonged to the same class and had reached the same grade-an In considering questions of this kind,-eminent scholar can only have become so in forming an estimate of the worth of by a life passed where the best uses of life scholarship and the homage due to learned are well nigh forgotten,-in his closet. men, men are apt to be misled by a common His solitary lamp has not been shining and very influential error;-they too often through the silent watches of many nights, do not understand, or do not recollect, while that he might record his thoughts touching they reason, that knowledge is not wis- the duties or hopes of man, or the science dom. The former we regard as an indis- of mind, or the great mystery of governpensable instrument, as a means of vast ment, or the wise economy of public and inestimable value; but standing by it- wealth-for he is not a philosopher, nor a self, and employed in no uses, it is worth-statesman, nor a politician; he has not less as any other neglected or misused tool. Wisdom is a very different thing; it is the end which science respects, and only so far as it respects this end should science be valued. It has an absolute and momentous worth; and men may well strive for it as for an unspeakable good, and value it in others as a quality which gives a rightful claim to the highest respect. We understand by this word, learning, simply an acquaintance, more or less extensive or accurate, with words and things as they actually are or were; with the literary works of different ages and nations; with the facts, which, together with certain arrangements and nomenclatures, constitute what are usually called the sciences; and with the languages employed in various times

sought the accomplishment of elegant lite-
rature only as it is the fairest ornament of
the mind, nor has he loved its pure pleas-
ures only as an innocent and useful recrea-
tion, for he would call it detraction, or, at
best, a very scant measure of justice, were
one to give him credit for only so much
skill in letters as could be thus acquired.
He is a scholar,-an eminent scholar,-but
nothing more, and therefore the best powers
and efforts of his mind have been wasted in
pursuits almost if not altogether frivolous;
some desirable advantages may result from
his labours, but they are dearly purchased.
The character he has formed, the habits he
has acquired, are not those of most value.
He has been accustomed to think out his
own thoughts and follow the lead of his

and that which is not desirable; let him tavern, where we enjoyed an excellent appeared with a large piece of court-plaishelp them who are busy in supplying the breakfast. We found here an American ter on her face, to cover a wound inflicted needs, enlarging the comforts, and prevent- shipmaster, who saluted Capt. M- much by a missile from the galleries a few nights ing or curing the evils of life; let such be in the same way as he might have done before. I should have been wearied with his task, and his strength is as the feeble- had they parted the day before, when, in the performance but for Miss Stephens, at ness of infancy. Now a character like reality, they had not met, as I believe, for whose exquisite singing I came as near rapthis will his be, generally speaking, whom some years. But sailors soon become citi-tures as was becoming. The nobility and all men call an "eminent scholar;" and a zens of the world, and a few years, or a gentry are now generally in the country, character like this, this age, and especially few thousand miles, appear to them of little and the house was not very brilliant; but it consequence. In the course of the morning was decently filled, or, rather, indecently, this country, ought never to honour. But, we repeat, we are very far from we walked to the Castle, a Saxon building, for, from the dress of some of the ladies, I feeling any contempt for learning; we it is said, of great antiquity, to witness the should have supposed them to be Cyprians; would give to it, and to them who have it, daily parade of the guards now stationed in but P assured us he had seen Countdue honour, and would hold out sufficient Dublin, consisting of light-infantry, caval- esses dressed lower and higher. The folinducements for its due cultivation. Most, ry, and artillery, grenadiers, heavy cavalry, lowing morning we found Mr Rosborough, if not all, of the pursuits of life may be and Highlanders. These last swarm all who treated us in a very gentlemanlike followed with more advantage by him who over the city; their dress is very pictur- manner, examined our baggage slightly, has been taught the rudiments of learning esque; a blue bonnet encircled with a refused any fee, and offered to send it to than by the wholly ignorant; and in many band of red plaid, and surmounted with any place we wished. We thanked him for of them high and valuable success cannot black plumes, a white close jacket to the his politeness in that hearty manner, which be attained without considerable acquaint- middle, and a philibeg, kilt, or short petti- one is apt to use towards any man who gives I have not seen one pretty face yet, ance with literature. In our country there coat, descending just below the middle of a good impression, or removes a bad one. are some, though not yet many, who are the thigh; the limbs below are quite naked, not obliged to belong to any profession, and except shoes and tartan hose, which do not from which it is, of course, reasonable to not disposed to seek or hold public stations; reach to the knee; a goat-skin bag before infer, after the sweeping manner of travelto such it is honourable to love literature; them, adorned with rows of tags or tassels re- lers, that the Irish ladies are not handsome. and their studies, though not perhaps very sembling small shaving brushes, a musket, The general appearance of this city is much directly or largely beneficial, are yet some- and a basket-hilted broadsword swung over superior to that of any I have ever seen, thing more than "strenuous idleness." Let their shoulders with a white leather belt, London not excepted, as well as I recollect. us then have learning, and let us honour it. complete the array of these knights of " the Through the middle of it runs the Liffy, a Let our colleges be supplied with teachers bottomless breeks." It must be a vile dress pretty river, probably about two hundred competent to all the duties of instruction; in winter. On returning from our walk and fifty or three hundred feet wide, quaylet all American productions, indicative of ed or edged on each side with hewn stone industry and ability and useful knowledge, for a mile and a half Irish, or two miles be received with honourable welcome, and English, and crossed by six stone, and one let them who may choose their occupations, cast iron bridge. The quays are surmountand prefer literary pleasures to idleness or ed, through their whole length, sometimes dissipation, be duly respected. But let us not with an open stone railing, at others, with a forget, that only so much learning as is or wall about two and a half feet high. Standing may be used is valuable, and let us especion one of these bridges, one may see nearly ally recognise and seek the most extensive, the whole way, up or down, through the way, he attainable, and important advantages of city. This river is a very convenient guide learning, those which accompany the lessfor strangers; for, if one loses his er degrees of it, and may be enjoyed by alhas only to go north or south, as the case may be, till he reaches it, and follow it to most all in the discharge of all their duties. Let our schools be supported by a persesome known point, from which he may take a new departure. The streets abound with vering, liberal, and enlightened patronage, and every means be actively employed to gentry in slashed sleeves, yea, and slashed secure to the intellect of each one of the breeches too. I saw yesterday the ne plus people of this country so much cultivation ultra of tatterdemalions-the very prince of and knowledge as shall enlarge and correct rags-strolling along with his right hand in his views concerning all his duties and his breeches pocket, and his left in his borights, and supply him with the best mosom, looking as if this fair world was cretives for good conduct. We shall then ated for his sole accommodation. This is have no need to lament that few among our an exceedingly lazy people. About fifty learned can abide a comparison with the rods below one of the bridges are two ferry boats, each rowed by two men, who get a eminent scholars of Europe. good living by carrying those across at a half penny apiece, who are too indolent, or too busy, as the case may be, to walk to the bridge; and one sees persons frequently, whose array would indicate them to be worth some sixpence or thereabouts, paying their mite to save themselves a few rods of walking.

We shall, in a future number, state our opinion as to the condition of society which could create a numerous class of eminently learned men, and as to the character which, it is to be hoped, the scholars of this country will have.

LETTERS FROM A TRAVELLER.
No. II.

Dublin, September 13. ON Wednesday morning, twenty-four days after we embarked, we set foot on the terra-firma of green Erin, and walked up the banks of the Liffy to the Custom House

we were informed that the officers of His
Majesty's Customs, having been offended by
some observations made by the Mate of the
brig, had instituted a very particular
search, and finding concealed in divers parts
of the vessel, articles which they were
pleased to consider contraband, had seized
all the passengers' baggage, trunks, bedding,
&c., and conveyed them away in triumph.
Much alarmed at finding our property in the
claws of such harpies, we hurried down to
the Custom House, to inquire into the affair.
were detained til near two
Here we
o'clock, and then obliged to depart unsat-
isfied. All we could get for an answer
was, that our baggage might possibly be at
Mr Rosborough's on Rogerson's quay. As
this was at some distance, we resolved to dine
upon the business, eating being generally a
matter of paramount importance for some
days to landsmen, after a voyage across the
Atlantic. In the afternoon we proceeded to
Mr Rosborough's, where, after waiting till
six P. M. in vain, as the gentleman was not
at home, we returned in high dudgeon at hav-
ing wasted half the day in this unprofitable
pursuit. In the evening we went to the
theatre, to hear Miss Stephens in 'Lionel
and Clarissa.' The theatre appeared to me
to be a little larger than that in Boston,
and, in general, not much more beautiful.
In one particular it is better, the benches
of the pit are covered and stuffed; both men
and women occupy it. The mode of light-
ing by moon-light lamps, instead of candles,
or common lamps, produces a pleasing ef-
fect. The scenery seemed better painted
and managed. All the lobbies and doors
were guarded by armed Highlanders, to
prevent or suppress riots, which are said
to be not uncommon. One of the actresses

I am amazed at the variety of vehicles here;-tilburies, gingles, sociables, and a long etcetera of indescribable machines to put people in ridiculous situations. If any of you should feel a laudable desire to astonish the natives by sporting a sociable, the following is a recipe: Take a large round hand-basket, wheels of wheelbarows,