in the garden, and dressing them out in any remnants of black we could find for weepers, made a procession to the grave where it was buried. This little divertissement quite took their fancy. The next day one of the youngest came up to me and said, "Oh Papa, when will you die?"-A strange question, thought I, quite forgetting the procession of the day before. Why do you ask, my dear ?" Oh, because it will be such fun burying you." "Much obliged to you, my love."

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66

There is much more intellect in birds than people suppose. An instance of that occurred the other day, at a slate quarry belonging to a friend from whom I have the narrative. A thrush, not aware of the expansive properties of gunpowder, thought proper to build her nest on a ridge of the quarry in the very centre of which they were constantly blasting the rock. At first, she was very much discomposed by the fragments flying in all directions, but still she would not quit her chosen locality; she soon observed that a bell rang whenever a train was about to be fired, and that, at the notice, the workmen retired to safe positions. In a few days, when she heard the bell, she quitted her exposed situation, and flew down to where the workmen sheltered themselves, dropping close to their fect. There she would remain until the explosion had taken place, and then return to her nest. The workmen, observing this, narrated it to their employers, and it was also told to visitors who came to view the quarry.

The visitors naturally expressed a wish to witness so curious a specimen of intellect; but, as the rock could not always be ready to be blasted when visitors came, the bell was rung instead, and, for a few times, answered the same purpose. The thrush flew down close to where they stood, but she perceived that she was trifled with, and it interfered with her process of incubation; the consequence was, that afterwards, when the bell was rung, she would peep over the ledge to ascertain if the workmen did retreat, and, if they did not, she would remain where she was, probably saying to herself, "No, no, gentlemen; I'm not to be roused off my eggs merely for your amusement."

Some birds have a great deal of humour in them, particularly the raven. One that belonged to me was the most mischievous and amusing creature I ever met with. He would get into the flower-garden, go to the beds where the gardener had sowed a great variety of seeds, with sticks put in the ground with labels, and then he would amuse himself with pulling up every stick, and laying them in heaps of ten or twelve on the path. This used to irritate the old gardener very much, who would drive him away. The raven knew that he ought not to do it, or he would not have done it. He would soon return to his mischief, and when the gardener again chased him (the old man could not walk very fast) the raven would keep just clear of the rake or hoe in his hand, dancing back before him, and singing as plain as a man could," Tol de rol de rol! tol de rol de rol!" with all kinds of mimicing gestures. The bird is alive now, and continues the same meritorious practice whenever he can find an opportunity. If he lives long enough I fully expect that he will begin to pun.

June, Steam-boat Princess Victoria. Ir certainly appears that the motion of a steam-vessel is more opposed to the peristaltic motion than that of a sailing-vessel. People are more unwell, and appear to suffer in some degree in proportion to the power of the engines. This is very easily accounted for, as the vibration of the vessel increases in the same proportion.

We are now in a vessel of two hundred and fifty horse power, and the consequence is, that the passengers are as sick as two hundred and fifty horses. The vibration of the after part of the vessel amounts to the ridiculous in its effects.

When dinner was put on the table we had no occasion for a bell to announce it, for every glass on the table was dancing to its own jingling music. And when the covers were taken off it was still more absurd— everything in the dishes appeared to be infected with St. Vitus's dance. The boiled leg of mutton shook its collops of fat at a couple of fowls which figured in a sarabande round and round-roast beef walked about its dish to a slow movement—a ham glisséed croisée from one side to the other-tougues wagged that were never meant to wag again -bottles reeled and fell over like drunken men, and your piece of bread constantly ran away and was to be pulled back into its proper place. It was a regular jig-a-jig-a country-dance of pousette, down the middle, and right and left.

The communication of motion was strange; the whole company seated on long forms were jig-a-jigging up and down together-your knife jigged and your fork jigged, even the fragment which was put into your mouth gave one more jump before it descended-a new version of the Dance of Death. However, we jigged it to some purpose; for, in eighteen hours and a half, we passed from London to Antwerp.

I do believe that I never was content to remain in any one place but for a very short period. As a child I was never at rest-a plaything lasted me five minutes, and then my inquiring mind induced me to analyse it, that is, break it all to pieces to ascertain what it was made of. I have been reflecting whether I can recollect, in my whole life, ever to have been three months in one place, but I cannot, nor do I believe that I ever was-not even when sent to school, for my restlessness would never allow me to remain there so long, my desire of change induced me to scale the walls and run away; and I was punished for my dislike to learning when, in fact, I was only obeying the dictates of my peculiar organization. And then I was off to sea; there I had my wish, as Shakspeare says, wrapped up in clouds and blown with restless violence about the pendent world," north, south, east, and west; one month freezing, the next burning; all nations, all colours, white, copper, brown, and black; all scenery, from the blasted pine towering amidst the frost and snow, to the cocoa-nut waving its leaves to the seabreeze. Here, there, and everywhere, eager to see all, and tired when once seen. Every year administering to my desires, and, as my desires were satisfied, adding to the difficulty of finding fresh food for them. And now that all—that is, all within reach-has passed before me; now that I cannot find something new, but the very novelty is disappointment from comparison with what I have seen. No one is tired of everything, that is impossible; but that of my appetite for novelty is more eager than others; and in proportion to its eagerness, so is

the avidity with which it feeds, and the rapidity with which it is satiated, No one can enjoy more than I do, in anticipation or upon possession; when I first behold a new scene I am delighted with it, and imagine that I could live there for ever; but this soon passes away, and in a month I wonder how any one could live in such a hole. With my fellowcreatures it is the same. I am too confiding at first. Not all the treachery I have experienced will act as a warning. I continue to think of men not as they are, but as they ought to be; and it generally ends in my being again deceived. Is this a happy or unhappy disposition? Happy, most assuredly; for I am ever in pursuit, and that is mundane happiness. I take no warning, although deceived; and this proves that my disappointments fall but lightly upon my buoyant disposition. If our years were not numbered I might indeed break down before my pilgrimage was over; but in this short space of existence I require not new worlds, nor to shake hands with the inhabitants of the moon.

That this species of restlessness is more or less a component part in every mortal is undoubted. The enlightened feel it in their thirst for more knowledge-the simple and weak from curiosity.

That it should be strong in the English nation is not to be wondered at; they have always been the travellers of the world; and their pursuit of commerce has always sent many forth, who have returned and imbued others with the desire of visiting other countries.

That the English nation should, therefore, after having, by a succession of long wars, been cooped up in their own island, be desirous to visit the continent, is not only natural but praiseworthy; but that they should make the continent their residence-should expatriate themselves altogether, is, to me, a source of astonishment as well as of regret.

The excuse offered is the cheapness. It is but an excuse, for I deny it to be the fact; I have visited most places with and without a family, and I will positively assert, not for the benefit of others who have already expatriated themselves, but as a check to those who feel so inclined, that they will discover too soon that, at less expense, they can command more good living, and substantial comforts in England, than in any part of the continent they may fix upon as their habitation.

Let us enter a little into the subject: first, as to the capitals, Paris, Brussels, &c.

Let it first be remembered that we have no longer war prices in England, that almost every article has fallen from thirty-five to fifty per cent. It is true that some tradespeople who are established as fashionable, keep up their prices; but it is not absolutely necessary to employ them, as there are those equally skilled who are more moderate; but even these are obliged, to a certain degree, to lower their prices, and their present prices will most assuredly die with them.

Everything will, by degrees, find its level; but this level is not to be found at once. Five years from this date will make a great alteration in every article, not only of necessity, but of luxury; and then, after having been the dearest, England will become the cheapest, residence in the world. House rent in capitals is certainly as dear, if not dearer, abroad than it is in England. There are situations more or less fashionable in every metropolis; and if you wish to reside in those quarters, you pay accordingly. It is true that, by taking a portion of a house,

you, to a certain degree, indemnify yourself; a first, second, or troisième étage, with an escalier commune, loaded with dirt and filth; but is this equal to the comfort of a clean English house, in which you have your own servants, and are not overlooked by your neighbours? If they were to let out houses in floors in England as they do in Paris and elsewhere, a less sum would be demanded. You may procure a handsome house in a fashionable quarter, well furnished, in London, for 300/. per annum. Go to the Place Vendôme, or those quarters styled the English quarters, at Paris, and which are by no means the most fashionable quarters, and you will pay for a handsome front floor 700 francs per month, so that for one floor of a house in Paris you will pay 3361. per annum, when in London you will obtain the whole house for 3001. The proprietor of the Paris house therefore receives much more by letting his floors separate than the English do. The common articles of necessity are as dear, if not dearer abroad; the octroi duty upon all that enters the barriers raising the price excessively. Meat at Paris or Brussels is as dear as in London, and not so good; it is as dear, because they charge you the same price all round, about 5d. per lb., and more dear, from its inferiority, and the villanous manner in which it is cut up. Our butchers only butcher the animal, but foreign butchers butcher the meat. Poultry is as dear; game much dearer; and so is fish. Indeed, fish is not only dear, but scarce, and bad. Horses and carriages are quite as dear abroad, in the capitals, as in London. Clothes are in some respects cheaper, in others dearer, especially articles of English manufacture, which are more sought after than any others.

Amusements are said to be cheaper; but I very much doubt it, for, if cheaper, the places of amusement are oftener resorted to, and in consequence as much money is spent abroad as in England. It is true that there are an immense number of theatres in Paris, and that most of them are very reasonable in their charges for admission; but be it recollected that there are not above three of them which are considered fashionable, if even respectable; and there the prices are sufficiently high. If people went to Sadler's Wells, the Coburg, Astley's, &c., as they do to the Theatres St. Martin, Gymnase, et Variétés at Paris, they would find no great difference in the prices.

What then is there cheaper? Wine. I grant it; and, it is also asserted, the education of children. We will pass over these two last points for the present, and examine whether living is cheaper on the continent, provided you do not live in any of the metropolises.

That at Tours and other places in the south of France, at Genoa, at Bruges, in Belgium, you may live cheaper than in London, I grant; but if any one means to assert that you can live cheaper than in the country in England, I deny it altogether. People go abroad and select the cheapest parts of the continent to live in. If they were to do the same in England, they would find that they could live much cheaper and much better, for instance, in Devonshire, Cornwall, and Wales, and indeed in almost every county in England.

The fact is, it is not the cheapness of the living which induces so many people to reside abroad. There are many reasons; and as I wish to be charitable, I will put forward the most favourable ones.

In England, we are money-making people, and we have the aristocracy of wealth, as well as the aristocracy of rank. It has long been the

custom for many people to live beyond their incomes, and to keep up an appearance which their means have not warranted. Many, especially the landed proprietors, finding their rentals reduced from various causes, have been necessitated to retrench. They were too proud to put down their carriages and establishments before the eyes of those who had perhaps looked upon them with envy, and whose derision or exultation they anticipated. They therefore have retired to the continent, where a carriage is not necessary to prove that you are a gentleman. Should those return who have emigrated for the above reasons, they would find that this striving for show is hardly perceptible now in England. Those who have remained have either had sense enough, or have been forced by circumstances, to reduce their expenditure. In proof of which, look at the arms upon the carriages now driving about London, and you will find that nine out of ten belong to the nobility, or have the widow's lozenge on the panels; the jointures of former days enabling the latter to keep their carriages, while their sons and daughters avoid an expense which their circumstances will not permit.

Another cause is the easy introduction into what is called good society abroad, on the continent, but which is in reality very bad society. Certainly there are a sufficient number of Counts, Viscounts, and Marquesses to associate with; but the value of a French title, if duly weighed, will be found to be far below that of an English gentleman. This society may certainly be entered into at a much less expense than that of England, especially in the metropolis; but, depend upon it, it is dear at almost any price.

With respect to education of children, that boys may receive advantage from a continental education I admit; but woe be to the mother who intrusts her daughter to the ruin of a French Pension; but allowing that boys may benefit by their being sent abroad, that is no reason why a whole family should emigrate.

Neither is education cheaper': what are termed accomplishments may be but this rage for accomplishments has changed many an interesting girl into a pert coquette.

When it is considered how much valuable time is thrown away upon teaching music to those who have no ear, and singing to those who have no voice, and that these accomplishments, as they are termed, are the cause of that love of display so injurious to the female character, and usually have the result of being an annoyance to those who are compelled to listen to them, it is devoutly to be wished that such a tax was put on all musical instruments, as to occasion their more limited abuse.

The education in England I admit to be bad; and, in most instances, the higher the terms, the worse is the teacher. There are many excellent schools in the country as cheap and cheaper here than on the continent; but the schoolmasters in England, generally speaking, are ruining themselves by their adherence to the old system, and their extravagant terms. The system of education on the continent is very superior to that of England, and the attention to the pupils is greater: of course there are bad schools abroad as well as in England; but the balance is much in favour of those on the continent, with the advantage of being at nearly one-half the expense. A great alteration has taken place in modern education; the living languages and mathematics have been found to be preferable to the classics and other instruction still adhered to in the English schools.