among the fashionable réunions in the 'Morning Post,' a paragraph to the following effect :

'Yesterday, Colonel and Mrs. Crawley entertained a select party at dinner at their house in May Fair. Their Excellencies the Prince and Princess of Peterwarachin, H.E. Papoosh Pasha, the Turkish Ambassador (attended by Kibeb Bey, dragoman of the mission), the Marquess of Steyne, Earl of Southdown, Mr. Pitt, and Lady Jane Crawley, Mr. Wag, &c. After dinner Mrs. Crawley had an assembly, which was attended by the Duchess (Dowager) of Stilton, Duc de la Gruyère, Marchioness of Cheshire, Marchese Alessandro Strachino, Comte de Brie, Baron Schapzuger, Chevalier Tasti, Countess of Slingstone, and Lady F. Macadam, Major-General and Lady G. Macbeth, and (2) Misses Macbeth, Viscount Paddington, Sir Horace Fogey, Hon. Sands Bedwin, Bobbachy Bahawder,' and an etc., which the reader may fill at his pleasure through a dozen close lines of small type.

How the Crawleys got the money which was spent upon the entertainments with which they treated the polite world was a mystery which gave rise to some conversation at the time, and probably added zest to these little festivities. Some persons averred that Sir Pitt Crawley gave his brother a handsome allowance; if he did, Beckey's power over the baronet must have been extraordinary indeed, and his character greatly changed in his advanced age. Other parties hinted that it was Beckey's habit to levy contributions on all her husband's friends: going to this one in tears with an account that there was an execution in the house; falling on her knees to that one, and declaring that the whole family must go to gaol, or commit suicide, unless such and such a bill could be paid. Lord Southdown, it was said, had been induced to give many hundreds through these pathetic representations. Young Feltham, of the -th Dragoons (and son of the firm of Tiler and Feltham, hatters and army accoutrement makers), and whom the Crawleys introduced into fashionable life, was also cited as one of Beckey's victims in the pecuniary way. People declared that she got money from various simply disposed persons, under pretence of getting them confidential appointments under Government. Who knows what stories were or were not told of our dear and innocent friend? Certain it is,

that if she had had all the money which she was said to have begged or borrowed, or stolen, she might have capitalised, and been honest for life, whereas—but this is advancing matters.

The truth is, that by economy and good management—by a sparing use of ready money, and by paying scarcely anybody -people can manage, for a time at least, to make a great show with very little means: and it is our belief that Beckey's muchtalked-of parties, which were not, after all was said, very numerous, cost this lady very little more than the wax candles which lighted the walls. Stillbrook and Queen's Crawley supplied her with game and fruit in abundance. Lord Steyne's cellars were at her disposal, and that excellent nobleman's famous cook presided over her little kitchen, or sent by my lord's order the rarest delicacies from their own. I protest it is quite shameful in the world to abuse a simple creature, as people of her time abuse Beckey, and I warn the public against believing one-tenth of the stories against her. If every person is to be banished from society who runs into debt and cannot pay—if we are to be peering into everybody's private life, speculating upon their income, and cutting them if we don't approve of their expenditure-why, what a howling wilderness and intolerable dwelling Vanity Fair would be. Every man's hand would be against his neighbour in this case, my dear sir, and the benefits of civilisation would be done away with. We should be quarrelling, abusing, avoiding one another. Our houses would become caverns and we should go in rags because we cared for nobody. Rents would go down. Parties wouldn't be given any more. All the tradesmen of the town would be bankrupt. Wine, wax-lights, comestibles, rouge, crinoline petticoats, diamonds, wigs, Louis-Quatorze gimcracks and old china, park hacks and splendid high-stepping carriage horses-all the delights of life, I say, would go to the deuce if people did but act upon their silly principles, and avoid those whom they dislike and abuse. Whereas, by a little charity and mutual forbearance, things are made to go on pleasantly enough : we may abuse a man as much as we like, and call him the greatest rascal unhung-but do we wish to hang him therefore? No; we shake hands when we meet. If his cook is good, we forgive him, and go and dine with him; and we expect he will do the same by us. Thus trade flourishes-civilisation advances;

peace is kept; new dresses are wanted for new assemblies every week; and the last year's vintage of Lafitte will remunerate the honest proprietor who reared it.—Thackeray.

108. ENGLISH DWELLINGS IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

It is an error to suppose that the English gentry were lodged in stately or even in well-sized houses. Generally speaking, their dwellings were as much inferior to those of their descendants in capacity as they were in convenience. The usual arrangement consisted of an entrance passage, running through the house, with a hall on one side, a parlour beyond, and one or two chambers above; and on the opposite side a kitchen, pantry, and other offices. Such was the ordinary manor-house of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, as appears, not only from the documents and engravings, but, as to the latter period, from the buildings themselves, sometimes, though not very frequently, occupied by families of consideration.

་ ་

But if the domestic buildings of the fifteenth century would not seem very spacious or convenient at present, far less would this luxurious generation be content with their internal accommodation. A gentleman's house containing three or four beds was extraordinarily well provided; few, probably, had more than two. The walls were commonly bare, without wainscot, or even plaster, except that some great houses were furnished with hangings, and that, perhaps, hardly so soon as the reign of Edward IV. It is unnecessary to add that neither libraries of books nor pictures could have found a place among furniture. -Hallam.

109. THE DOG-SHOW AT ISLINGTON,

Cowper complained that for the merry music of a pack of hounds his destiny gave him no ear; and undoubtedly the bard of Olney was far from singular in his non-appreciation of canine melody. . . . Collect fourteen hundred noble animals under a single roof, lacerate their tenderest feelings by separating them from their masters and mistresses, vex the honest pride of some by associating them with plebeian puppies, and excite the envy of others by placing them in disadvantageous juxtaposition to curled and silken darlings of the boudoir, and the inevitable

result will be a chronic chorus of dissatisfaction. In tones both loud and deep the canine tribes will bewail their imprisonment. ... No one can wonder if their tender remembrances inspire a pathetic and continuous lament; and, writing at a distance from merry Islington, it is natural to feel a certain sympathy for the dogs. It would, however, be scarcely fair to expect that this feeling can be shared by those British householders whose lot it is to be awakened in the middle of the night by a sudden outburst of barking, howling, yelping, and moaning from a vast host of four-footed serenaders. . . Fresh from intricate applications of mental arithmetic pertaining to his daily work, the exhausted man of business has but just dropped off into his quiet slumbers, when his gentle dreams are rudely broken by the interruptions in question. Answering to the call, the cats of the neighbourhood add their quota to the clamour, and bright chanticleer, knowing that it is too early for him to proclaim the dawn, but anxious to take part in so general a concert, crows with a strength peculiar to the poultry of Cochin-China.—Daily Telegraph.

...

IIO. THE ASSAULT OF BADAJOS.

The columns moved out of the parallels at the same moment in silent order, and darkness canopied the city. Led by their steady guides, the columns destined to storm the breaches no sooner crowned the glacis, and came upon the ditch, than a light brighter than that of day, but of another sort, illumined all things, and they could see distinctly the armed walls and the ready foe. A line of levelled muskets and the cannon of the ramparts, already pointed, vomited forth a deadly fire. The men advanced; they leaped into the covered way where the palisades had been destroyed by the batteries. Bags filled with hay were cast into the ditch; ladders were lowered, and the brave assailants hurried down the counterscarp into the ditch. It was soon crowded with troops. Suddenly an incredible number of fougasses, shells, and other combustibles, which had been laid along the foot of the breach and in the ditch, were fired by the garrison. They exploded with an appalling effect. The destruction was terrific, and the confusion unavoidable; yet there was no pause in the attack. The main breach was

found strongly intrenched planks, studded with iron spikes, like harrows, had been laid down after dark, and chevaux de frise, formed of sword-blades, were fixed strongly along the summit. The boldest hearts, the strongest arms, were unable to force a way past obstacles like these. Volleys of musketry were showered upon the troops from the ramparts, and they all fell slain or disabled upon the rubbish.-Moyle Sherer.

III. THE GREENLAND GLACIER.

There is an unusual dearth of birds and seals; everything around us is painfully still, excepting when an occasional iceberg splits off from the parent glacier; then we hear a rumbling crash like distant thunder, and the wave occasioned by the launch reaches us in six or seven minutes, and makes the ship roll lazily for a similar period. The glacier serves to remind one at once of time and of eternity-of time, since we see portions of it break off to drift and melt away, and of eternity, since its downward march is so extremely slow, and its augmentations behind so regular, that no change in its appearance is perceptible from age to age. If even the untaught savages of luxuriant tropical regions regard the earth merely as a temporary abode, surely all who gaze upon this ice-overwhelmed region, this wide expanse of 'terrestrial wreck,' must be similarly assured that here we have no abiding place.' Some attempts to cross the glacier in South Greenland have failed, yet, by studying its character and attending to this remark, I think places may be found where an attempt would succeed.—Captain McClintock.

112. THE DOWNFALL OF BONAPARTE.

The downfall of Bonaparte is an impressive lesson to ambition, and affords a striking illustration of the inevitable tendency of that passion to bring to ruin the power and the greatness which it seeks so madly to increase. No human being, perhaps, ever stood on so proud a pinnacle of worldly grandeur as Napoleon at the beginning of his Russian campaign. He had done more, he had acquired more, and he possessed more, as to actual power, influence, and authority, than any individual that