therefore answered, "A man's health is generally in his own keeping: you know the old saying, that at forty every man is either a fool or a physician." "May he not be both, Sir Henry?" replied Lord Stowell, with an arch and pointed smile. But here Lord Stowell had met his match. The physician had his revenge; for some one mentioning to him that Lord Stowell was 66 complaining of his bowels," he drily answered, “Then he is the most ungrateful man upon earth."

The domestic life of Lord Stowell was amiable:* and he has always been considered a sincere Christian, and a conscientious member of the church of his country.

His parliamentary career was little distinguished: and all that need be said of it has been collected by the research of Mr. Townsend.† He was too timid, too sensitive for his reputation, too fearful of the press, to make a great debater. Nor had he the fervid vehemence, ingentis Demosthenis arma, requisite for carrying away with him a popular assembly. Hence, to the courts over which he presided were, for the most part, confined the graces of his eloquence; and the private circle of his friends was alone delighted with the exuberance of his wit.

Over-estimating the dangers of change, he had more than the conservatism of a Tory. Yet, having declared himself hostile to excommunication, as a mode of enforcing the payment of costs incurred in the ecclesiastical courts, he was so pressed by Sir Samuel Romilly to bring in a bill that should correct this deformity in the law, that he could not but consent. When he was drawing the act, § a deputation of proctors waited upon him, to request that he would ingraft some prohibitions, calculated, as they represented, to raise and purify their own branch of the profession. Sir William Scott, when informed of the object of the interview, thus drily addressed the spokesman: "So, now that I've got out my cart, you want to load it with your dirt, do you?" He agreed, however, to introduce the matter desired, and it now forms the eighth clause in the act.

This is not the place to discuss the legal merits of Lord Stowell's judgments; but there is no one so ambitious of eccentricity as to deny them excellence of the highest order. The statesman will find in the Admiralty,|| the moral philosopher in the Consistory Court, his own

* As no descendant of Lord Stowell survives to be pained by the disclosure, we are bound to make one exception to this praise, and to mention a misconduct, which brought, alas, its own retributive punishment. William Scott, his only son who grew to manhood, had formed an attachment that was unexceptionable. His father would not make him a sufficient allowance to enable him to marry. The intemperate habits of the son increased under the disappointment; and he died of a broken constitution about two months before his father.-The title of Lord Stowell is extinct: the riches, which he had heaped up, are gathered by collateral relatives. † No. xxxiii of the Law Magazine, where is a life of Lord Stowell, which, together with other interesting lives of lawyers by the same author, we have good reason to hope will speedily be published in a separate form.

Hansard's Parliamentary Debates, vol. xxi., p. 310, and vol. xxiii., p. 806. Sir Samuel Romilly's Memoirs, vol. iii., p. 6.

Afterwards known as that of 53 George III., chapter 127.

The judgments of Lord Stowell in this court will be found in the Admiralty Reports of Drs. Robinson, Edwards, Dodson, and Haggard. His judgment in the case of the ship" Juliana," in Dodson's Reports, and that in " Ealing Grove," in Haggard's Reports, however high their merits, were not very popular amongst the mercantile body. That on "the slave Grace," also in Haggard's Reports, encountered more extended dissatisfaction.

The judgments of Lord Stowell here will be found in Haggard's Consistory

more appropriate instruction; while the scholar, who may turn to the reports of Lord Stowell's decisions in either court, will wonder at the inimitable felicity of the language on which his judicial thoughts are winged, and will acknowledge that his diction has been formed on the purest models of ancient and modern elegance.

Of Lord Stowell, it has been said by Lord Brougham,* that "his vast superiority was apparent, when, as from an eminence, he was called to survey the whole field of dispute, and to marshal the variegated facts, disentangle the intricate mazes, and array the conflicting reasons, which were calculated to distract or suspend men's judgment." And he adds, that, "if ever the praise of being luminous could be bestowed upon human compositions, it was upon his."

Qualities, then, high and various, such as his judgments possessed, it would be idle to hope to convey by mere extracts; yet with one brief extract we will conclude this chapter.

The ecclesiastical judge is considering whether coffins of iron, or other very durable material, shall be admitted into our churchyards; and, if so, whether at the same burial fees as those of wood.

"It has been argued," he observes, "that the ground once given to the body is appropriated to it for ever-it is literally in mortmain unalienably,-it is not only the domus ultima, but the domus æterna of that tenant, who is never to be disturbed, be his condition what it maythe introduction of another body into that lodgment at any time, however distant, is an unwarrantable intrusion.-If these positions be true, it certainly follows, that the question of comparative duration sinks into utter insignificance.

"In support of them it seems to be assumed, that the tenant himself is imperishable; for, surely, there can be no inextinguishable title, no perpetuity of possession belonging to a subject which itself is perishable. -But the fact is, that 'man' and 'for ever' are terms quite incompatible in any state of his existence, dead or living, in this world. The time must come when ipso periere ruinæ,' when the posthumous remains must mingle with, and compose part of, that soil in which they have been deposited. Precious embalmments and costly monuments may preserve, for a long time, the remains of those who have filled the more commanding stations of human life; but the common lot of mankind furnishes no such means of conservation. With reference to them, the domus æterna is a mere flourish of rhetoric; the process of nature will speedily resolve them into an intimate mixture with their kindred dust; and their dust will help to furnish a place of repose for other occupants in succession."

Q.

Reports, and Phillimore's Ecclesiastical Reports, which latter contains also the judgments of Sir John Nichol, who flourished contemporaneously with Lord Stowell, and occupied the chair of the three courts of the Archbishop of Canterbury; namely, the Court of Arches, and that of Peculiars, and the Prerogative Court of the see of Canterbury.

* In the notice of Lord Stowell in the "Historical Sketches of Statesmen of the Time of George III."

† Gilbert v. Buzzard.-Haggard's Consistory Reports, p. 351.; in which case he decides that iron coffins are admissible, but that the difference of the duration of coffins ought to make a difference in the terms of their admission.

NEW YEAR'S DA Y.

BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. TWELFTH NIGHT.

66

THIS is the day of Anticipation, as yesterday was of Retrospection. A new volume lies before us, pure and unwritten still," like a new album, which no hand has yet profaned. Like such a book, the coming year will be diversified by many a remarkable scene, by the record of many a strange event; the noble actions of some, and the evil deeds of others, will alike find a place in it; and when it draws to a close, like the self-same volume, its brightness and its blots will leave it scarcely distinguishable from any of its fellows.

Let us, if we

But it is not the province of Hope to anticipate evil. can, cheat ourselves into the belief that this year is fraught with much coming good ;—let us boldly prophecy a better order of things, "a more renewed existence," not politically,-for with politics the New Monthly has nothing to do, but in all that brings gladness to our hearths, and sheds its influence on society; cheering those whose career is yet to be run, and rewarding such as have long laboured towards the goal. Each class has its especial advocates: our advocacy, with a kindly feeling to all, is more particularly enlisted in behalf of the struggling sons and daughters of literary toil, in the earnest wish that before the dark day comes when hope ceases to gild the future hours of their mortal existence, the reward of their exertion may not have been withheld. But we are merging into a serious vein, when our intent was solely to beguile the few first hours of the New Year of whatever bitterness the remainder may have in store, though of all difficult tasks, perhaps, the hardest is that of endeavouring long to separate the twin children, mirth and sadness. New Year's Day is, or ought to be, a great day of rejoicing. We are in the midst of the great holiday of the year. Our situation resembles that of Hannibal's army, "Before us is Twelfth Night, behind us Christmas Day." We have survived the good cheer of the latter, let us manfully encounter the Capuan luxury of the former. Not that we consider these events as very serious hardships, but if the world be willing to suppose that we deem them so we are content to earn the reputation of martyrs.

It behoves us, in the first place, to speak of creature comforts.

At this masticating season how many new qualities are called into existence, how many dormant ones revived! The hue of each man's sentiments may be classed under a new denomination. A little week since and his talk was of railways and politics-his thoughts were on the fluctuations of scrip or the embarrassments of ministers; now, like Sir Andrew Aguecheek, he had "as lief be a Brownist as a politician;" provided the Champagne rises in his glass he cares nothing how the speculations-of others-subside. If you ask him "who are in" he gives you the names of the people he expects to meet at dinner; if the question be of those who are "out," he is directly non-plussed; dining out is the one thing uppermost in his thoughts, and if you don't want to know any thing about that he wishes you good-day and a better digestion.

"When drouthy neebor, neebor meets," the phrase is not now, as at other times, about the weather of all, or the health of some, but has reference to

the appetite of each. The "when" and "where do you dine?" rattle about one's ears like small shot in the pheasant covers of October; we dwell amid a perpetual clatter of dishes,-a constant jingle of glassesan uninterrupted din of knives and forks. The primest of beef, the most gigantic of turkeys, the most piquant of chines, the most ponderous of plum-puddings, encounter our glance whithersoever we turn. "Feed and be fat"-the counsel of ancient Pistol-is now the motto of the whole world whom a perfect furor edendi enthrals.

The natives of Abdera, as we have been told, did nothing but repeat the name of the god of love in all their streets, till the very pavement echoed with his name. Our echo is more substantial than echoes usually are, and “Dinner" is the word which, like the "Pip-pip-pip," of Pope's applewoman, "resounds along the plain." A traveller in America has observed that if you pause for a moment in any of their mercantile cities, to listen to the conversation of any two Americans, you are sure to hear the word "dollar" many times repeated; in like manner at the present season the thought uppermost in Britain finds instant utterance, and ، dinner” is the word which, resembling the mysterious letters prefixed to certain chapters of the Korân, signifies every thing to the initiated. In that little word how much is contained! The gastronomic science is much, but that is not all. The true definition of dinner, at Christmas, means—all we desire to render our Twelve days and nights superior to the memorable Ten proposed by the Emperor Seged. To adopt another Mohammedan image, that dissyllable contains as much within itself as the great tree in Paradise, which is to furnish every conceivable luxury to the true believer who sits beneath its shade. The Shibboleth of good fellowship is now freely communicated to all; as each man grasps his neighbour's hand the prandial symbol is exchanged, and the freemasonry of roast beef is established. Antipathies now are forgotten; democrats object not to barons (of beef), nor henpecked husbands to ribs ; even a bore's head is deemed admissible by all. We dream of sea-coal fires and sirloins-we revel beforehand in the good things already seething and smoking in our mind's eye; all our thoughts harmonise to the tune of "Roast Beef,”—and the whole universe-the solid globe on which we tread-appears but one vast, one enormous plum-pudding!

Enough of the prospects and enjoyments of gourmandise; let us turn to pleasures that cling closer to our memory as the year comes round.

This is the time for the renewal of friendship and the confirmation of acquaintance. The first is marked by gifts, the second by compliment. In this country “ the giving vein” is fast subsiding, and the complimentary one dwells only on the lips. In France, they order these matters differently; young and old, rich and poor, make ready their étrennes for the new year, and ruin themselves in purse or constitution, by bestowing or devouring sweetmeats; and as to compliment, every one there contrives on New Year's Day to remember that he has acquaintance enough to devote at least one pack of the visiting-cards to their service. Here we are more chary of our pasteboard, and more liberal with our mahogany; we offer suppers instead of sugar-plums, and brawn and barrelled oysters in lieu of bouquets and bon-bons. The heartiness of the season is more observed in England, its gaiety more developed in France. The national characteristic speaks for each country in every thing that belongs to them.

It is said that the English are not a musical nation, but there are many indications of the contrary being the fact. To say nothing of monsterconcerts, which fill nightly, or hint at the amusements of a London season, or even point triumphantly to our two live native_composers, or give any other proof of the welcome accorded to music in England: in what other country of Europe, at mid-winter, with the thermometer below zero, can men be found hardy enough to pass their nights in the streets, tuning their viols and rebecks, and torturing cat-gut into sweet sounds, save in merry, musical England? Who but the mysterious beings, unseen, but not unheard, who enact the mellifluous "Waits," would perform sonatas and waltzes, al fresco, at the witching hour, in weather cold enough to freeze all melody, like the music in Munchausen's horn? But a market cannot be supported without chapmen, and to enable the waits to go on from year to year, as they heroically and pertinaciously insist upon doing, they must be sure of listeners. And it is no fable that individuals do exist who, spurning the warm blanket of security, and casting aside the counterpane of comfort, rush madly to lattices, which they open, and listen in shivering rapture to these hyperborean peripatetics. The guitar and soft serenade beneath a Spanish balcony may win the hearts of black-eyed maidens, who in that sunny clime have little to do but sit and listen; the task, if it endure from midnight until dawn, is but a labour of love, and the pleasure of the performance grows by what it feeds on. But surely those professors of music deserve to be highly considered whose magic is powerful enough to withdraw from comfortable couches fair creatures who have a thousand other occupations, and who, moreover, happen at the time to be warmly and snugly in bed!

It must needs be that the real musicians are young men, very far gone in love, who say with Cloten, "I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate ;" and that those who perambulate the streets during the day, acknowledging the authorship of the persuasive circulars which they exhibit, are simply their delegates, through whose medium they ascertain, by the liberality of the payments made, the effect produced by their nocturnal demonstrations. We recommend parents and guardians to consider this hint when these pseudo sons of Apollo appear to receive the customary reward, hight the Christmas-box, which is one of the agreeable consequences of this merry-making season.

Christmas-boxes are pleasant things to the receivers of them.

Many a man would now gladly exchange his calling for a few days with the postman, the dustman, the turncock, the beadle, or any other of the numerous individuals of whatsoever denomination, who levy black-mail on the householders of their respective parishes. Even charity is now "an enforced gift," for she claims as a right what formerly she received as a favour. She enters our houses, sits by our fire-side, demolishes our larder, drinks our strong beer, wraps herself up in our blankets, carries off our coals, and scarcely refrains from taking possession of our very penates, and, sooth to say, the foray is, for the most part, endured with little grudging, if it is not even welcomed.

"To bear, is to conquer our fate ;" and, as we have nothing left for it, we do bear, and, the holidays not lasting for ever, we eventually gain the day.

From the sublime to the ridiculous there is but a step; from the French-horn to the Pantomime the transition is easy. The mute comedy of kicks and cuffs, though fallen from its high estate, has still some lin