"It is the custom, I believe, in most Catholic countries, but particularly in Spain, for every parish to carry the figure of the Virgin, with all the necessary et cætera. through its principal streets.

"This procession is generally very grand, attended by music and singing boys; which, together with the numerous tapers, carried by those who follow, has a very commanding and soleinn effect, more especially if seen on a dark night. No person is allowed to turn his back upon this figure, neither is it consistent for these Virgins to behave so towards each other, if perchance they meet. It happened, however, one evening, that the processions of two different parishes entered a street at the same time, one at each end, and consequently met. 'Twas here they found themselves perplexed; for, by the regulations of the church, they could neither pass, nor return, as that would be treating each other with disrespect. In this situation they remained for a length of time, undetermined what course to pursue; at length it was mutually resolved to send and ask the Bishop of S******; and a messenger was accordingly dispatched, who soon returning, brought the bishop's directions for each party to walk backwards to the end of the street, and then turn to their respective duties. These instructions were punctually followed, and they parted highly pleased with the good judgment of the bishop, in recommending a plan, which wonderful to relate, they never thought of.

"Would any one, who had not witnessed similar absurdities, credit the existence of such superstition in these days? But such is indeed the case."

HENRIQUE.

DETACHED THOUGHTS.

"We are told by metaphysicians, that the human mind is capable, by long familiarity, of forming a disinterested attachment to any pursuits in which it is engaged, and any objects with which it is connected, which are not absolutely and strongly disgusting, how

ever devoid of attraction they may appear to the rest of mankind. It has been said of the miser, that he ultimately acquires a disinterested love of money. There is no character to which this remark is more applicable, than that of the collector of books, who, if he enter into the full spirit of his pursuit, may furnish, by his eagerness and enthusiasm, a subject not unworthy the pen of Theophrastus or La Bruyere. Independently of the instruction or pleasure which he has experienced, or for which he hopes, from their perusal, the mere sight of books is sufficient to excite in his mind the liveliest perceptions, and a rare specimen or a splendid and extensive collection to exalt him into raptures, in which the uninitiated spectator is so far from participating, that he finds it difficult even to conceive their origin. If compared with other tribes of virtuosi, without treating even the lowest of that order with contempt, it may be allowed, that the lover of books has chosen a province which is next in dignity to that of the truly scientific collector of the interesting objects of nature. A classical and elegant taste is often connected with his pursuit, and the objects of his curiosity are at once the monuments of human genius and wisdom, and of the noblest of human arts. The formation also of extensive collections of the valuable works of literature, public or private, especially if left liberally accessible to the occasional use of men of learning, is worthy of the highest praise."

"It must be remembered, that the works of an orator are designed for immediate effect; he is to consult the passions and prejudices of his hearers, not the taste of a distant reader, or the judgment of after ages. Popularity is, and ought to be, his aim and ob ject; for in proportion as he is popular, he will be useful; and, perhaps, popularity is to be obtained by the very faults which criticism would most condemn.'

"Those geographical philosophists, those wretched reasoners, who would make morality depend upon degrees of latitude, cannot be too severely reprobated. Were the physical fact true, it would overthrow the order of the universe."

A. A. R

"LALLA ROOKH," A POEM, BY T. MOORE, ESQ.

"NO sooner was the flowery crown
Placed on her head, than sleep came down,
Gently as nights of summer fall,
Upon the lids of Nourmahal ;---
And suddenly, a tuneful breeze,
As full of small, rich harmonies,
As ever wind, that o'er the tents
Of Arab blew, was full of scents,
Steals on her car, and floats and swells,
Like the first air of morning creeping,
Into those wreathy red sea shells,

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping:
And now a spirit form'd 'twould seem,
Of music and of light, so fair,
So briliantly his features beam,
And such a sound is in the air

Of sweetness, when he waves his wings,
Hovers around her, and thus sings:-

Light of the Haram.