me.' but where shall you find other irregular verse in the read-as an outlaw from their tribe. The good to result from ing of which you never stumble, though the number of my project will not be the less, because vain and shallow syllables in the line is continually changing-increasing minds that cannot understand it are diverted at it and at and diminishing often with a strange celerity? We are inclined to attribute this very much to the principle indicated in the quotation given in our former paper from the preface, viz., that of keeping the number of accents in the line always the same. From the Ancient Mariner we should gladly have given some quotations illustrative of its rugged wildness, its strange fable, and its abrupt and terrible sublimity. But as it is the best known of the productions of Coleridge, and as its merits are generally acknowledged, we shall pass it over to give a brief quotation from the Sybiline Leaves, amid which will be found, scattered here and there, some of the finest specimens of blank verse in the language:— 'Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, The spirit with which Coleridge cultivated poetry is finely indicated in the concluding paragraph of the preface to his Juvenile Poems. Our object in penning the present article will be gained if it contribute at all to diffuse a taste for perusing them in a corresponding spirit, and with it all related advantages: I expect neither profit nor general fame by my writings; and I consider myself as having been amply repaid without either. Poetry has been to me its own exceeding great reward;' it has soothed my afflictions; it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; it has endeared solitude; and it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good and the beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me.' We have lingered in these enchanted gardens greatly insensible to the lapse of time; but we must leave. It may be complained of Coleridge that he has written but little poetry. True: of the three small volumes before us one is entirely occupied with the translation of Wallenstein, and the larger part of another with Remorse and Zapolya, of which it was not our purpose to speak, as, whatever may be their merits, they are not adapted to make any such Or this, which has been often quoted, but cannot be too impression as those pieces to which we have more particu often: 'Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, This brief but graphic sketch is scarcely less remarkable 'Thoughts that lie too deep for tears' have chastened into more ethereal tone. Their audience larly adverted. The remaining contents of these volumes is not large, and yet not a fifth part of them will produce any permanent effect on the minds of men. Reader, do not be prepared with a depreciatory exclamation. If you know what impressive or beautiful thought and imagery are, you will be satisfied that such a proportion were large. Of how many writers will it be found true, that even the fiftieth part of what they have written shall have taken hold of the mind of a susceptible reader with the irresistible grasp of a great thought, a distinct originality! Think of this, and cease from the ineffable folly of measuring the productions of genius by the quantity of paper they may cover; another test will try their real amount as well as their effective value. Not only are we ready to admit that the original verse of Coloridge covers comparatively little space, but that much is absolutely unreadable, and that not a little baffles all attempts at resolution, being projected on stilts beyond the all that posterity will care to remember of the poetry of Colevisible diurnal sphere.' A very small tome may contain ridge, but one which it will prize and treasure, as it has done in another department of art, the portraits of Titian or the cartoons of Raphael, to be studied and gazed on with increasing marvel and delight. tion. 6 Of his character as the projector of a philosophical system it is not our purpose at present to speak, farther than to say, that we cannot accord to him the honour claimed for him by a few devoted and admiring disciples. latter portion of his life he appears to have been of a difOn his poetry his fame must ultimately rest. During the author and his readers have been at issue on such a quesferent opinion himself; but it is not the first time when an On his poetry, we say, his fame must rest, and the basis is solid and sufficient. As the leader and expounder amongst us of a Germanised philosophy, he has already been deserted for Carlyle. Indeed, he was unfit to have been a leader even in a better cause, unless for a few minds of corresponding idiosyncrasy. His speculations and disquisitions are disjointed, fitful, and fragmentary to a singular degree; and ever and anon, in the midst of a profound or obscure discussion, he will fly off at a tangent on some verbal crotchet. Indeed, language with him often assumes the importance rightly attachable only to the things which it represents, if it do not sometimes threaten to supplant these altogether. In his prose works, however, there are isolated passages of great eloquence, much just criticism, and many weighty thoughts tersely and happily expressed. It is matter of sincere congratulation that this singular man, amid much that was whimsical and erratic to the end, long before his death, gratefully recognised the highest truths of Christianity as the only resting-place of his troubled spirit. In these latter, and, as to the condition of his moral and spiritual nature, by far the happiest years from the water; the tops of marine mountains similar to of his course, he was not ashamed to sing 'God's child in Christ adopted-Christ my all. What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, rather The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death; THE CAVE OF DOONMINALLA, SOME time ago we gave an extract from a volume lately published by Curry & Co. of Dublin, entitled Sketches in Erris and Tyrawly,' one of those indescribable gossiping sort of books, which, when the mind feels indisposed for reading of a more instructive description, somehow or other, although a douce-looking 12mo., always peers over the shoulder of the stately folio or the embossed and gilt 8vo. In one of these moods lately, we again laid our hands on the work, and as it may not be known to many of our readers, we feel tempted to transfer to our pages the following interesting description of a visit to the Cave of Doonminalla: I had visited this cave on a former occasion, and under circumstances very different indeed from the present; it was then in the very worst period of the most inclement autumn that has been remembered in Ireland; and by the fortuitous circumstance of the wind blowing off the land, I was enabled, even in stormy weather, to get an entrance into this cave, whose accessibility had been denied to many that have sought it, and that for months together. I was now privileged to visit it again, under the most favourable circumstances, and I am glad that I was able to see the whole scene under such different aspects. Now the entrance was effected without any difficulty, in the midst of calm and sunshine, and we had an opportunity of admiring in this great cavity the magnificent contrast of light and shade, and the soft harmonious sigh of the sea, as it breathed out its gentleness along the distant recesses of this hall of Neptune: there was now nothing within that was alarming or repulsive. On a former occasion, the cormorant, driven in from the foaming sea, despairing of its supper, was flapping its dark wing, and uttering its uncouth shriek as our boat scared it from where it stood brooding. Now the nasty bird was far away, fishing; no sound was heard to break upon the ocean murmur, but the cooing of the pigeon, as it courted its mate on the ledges of the lofty dome. And then, what a look out! If ever any one wishes to look forth upon a glorious prospect, let him betake himself to a cave, stand back far from its entrance, and then observe. I wish I had some Turner with me now, not a mere draughtsman-black lead wont do, I must have a colourist-I must have one who can catch tints, and make the varying bloom and blushes of nature his own. What a glorious picture he might here create! The interior cavern, with its ledges, recesses, and buttresses, relieved or shaded; its swelling dome, decorated with the wild fretwork and fantastic tracery of nature, coloured with ochres, lichens, and marine parasites; and these, moreover, whitened and yellowed, and made to look similar in colour and form by the absence of light; here sparkles of crystal, there white masses of quartz rock; even the very exuvia of the sea-birds as they stained the strata, adding to the variety, and making a portion of the harmonious keeping of this great visible obscure; and then to look out from under the distant dark arch, it cutting on the serene azure of the sunny sky, the streak of the evening sun, a line of molten silver on the green ocean, the magnificent Stags of Broadhaven, seven in number, seen just at hand, the cavern acting as a sort of picture tube to bring them near and add to their distinctness. See, how they rise like cones the reeks of M'Gillicuddy at Killarney, or the pins of Benabola in Connemara, all so like and yet so differentall exposing their manifold and contrasted stratifications as they rise in different inclination from the sea level-here a white line of milk quartz, there a black streak of shale or basalt. There are no sea rocks I have ever seen, and I believe I have seen all around England, Ireland, and a great part of Scotland, to equal in beauty of form, elevation, and singularity of grouping, the Stags of Broadhaven. And turn your boat a little to the right side of the cave, and you will catch a view of Kid Island, very elevated and varied in its outline, and you may, on this rarely frequented and dangerous sea, observe the sun just sparkling on the rigging of a vessel so far off that its hull is down, and she knows she has no business, no not in serene weather, near this ironbound coast. But enough of the Cave of Doonminalla. I have seen it in weather rough and smooth, and comparing it with every other sea-worn cavern, it is decidedly the grandest, because in height, breadth, and capacity, it is more like the dome of a great temple. Leaving the cave, we had time to look about the exterior of this great headland, which, as its name Doonminalla denotes, is a natural fortress that might be made even more impregnable than Gibraltar, and no doubt it was used as a retreat in old times-a refuge and a rallying point for the Vikingyr, or Sea Kings. In the year 1798, a Protestant gentleman, holding property in Erris, and fearing that he was obnoxious to the people, retreated to this promontory, which was accessible only at a single spot, and by a single person at a time; and he, not to say climbed, but scaled, what from below appears a perpendicular precipice. Up here he lifted his family; up here he hoisted some furniture and utensils; he made himself a sort of boolie or sheeling under the shelter of a rock, and here he remained for upwards of six weeks (it was well for him that the weather of that year was so invariably fine), a poor Roman Catholic schoolmaster, who was his fosterer, coming occasionally to him with provisions and news, and watching over his safety with all the devotedness that has so often marked that connexion, almost peculiar to Ireland, not of blood, but of the human bosom. This headland, besides being excavated by the large opening which I have just now attempted to describe, has more caverns, all which, it is probable, may in process of time be united. There is one called 'The Kitchen,' at the back of the Grand Parlour,' with which it is said there is already a communication. Having doubled this headland, being desirous to ascend Benwee, the highest precipice that overhangs the ocean here, and after having taken our views from the sea-level, now see what a thousand feet higher would do for us. We pushed into a cove surrounded on all sides but one by precipices, and, dismissing our boat's crew to return to Portnacloy, undertook to ascend the cliffs, and a pretty ascent it was, on a day the most broiling of any that had shone on Ireland for two years. Reader, I wish you a good pair of lungs, as well as legs, when you would climb an almost perpendicular cliff of five hundred feet elevation. I wish you also a good draught of sherry and water when you get half way up, and a still larger swig when you get to the top; for, rest assured, that not a small quantity of your animal liquids will bid you a farewell, in your exercise of hands, feet, and lungs, as you struggle upwards. But who would not waste a little of their animal moisture for the sake of seeing the whole north-western coast of Ireland? and this is the very point the left shoulder-knot, if I may so say, of the island, and you can see the long range of coast southward, as well as what trends eastward and by north. Well, we are landed on the rough beach, where huge granite, greenstone, and quartz rocks have undergone the rubbing process for thousands of years, and are almost as smooth and as round as marbles. Then here, as you ap proach the natural wall that rises in our face for two or three hundred feet, you see it sparkling with crystals, presenting their multitudinous facets to the sun, and you are down on them, and making eagles the subject of our chat, observed, that they sometimes attacked Christhens;' and he told of a woman near Mount Nephin, who not long ago went to dig potatoes in an adjoining field, and carried along with her the babe she was nursing; and preparatory to her work, she laid her child down on the sunny side of the ditch and there left it, as she thought, quite safe. But while engaged in her task, an eagle pounced on the little one; but luckily, instead of plunging its talons into its head, they struck through, and were entangled in its flannel frock; and thus fastened, though the bird had not power of wing to soar at once aloft, it would every now and then rise from the ground, and passing on a little would touch the earth again, and so the child was half-carried, halfdragged along. In this perilous predicament, the mother rushed across the potato ridges, and spade in hand (for what will not a mother do?) boldly attacked the spoiler, and not only succeeded in recovering her infant, but in killing the bird. This scene would be a fine subject for a could with great fidelity of grouping, and force of colouring, depict a young Connaught woman, handsome, and yet fierce, in the severity of her maternal feeelings, battling with the ravisher of her little one. disposed to linger here to strike off specimens, and bring home for the ladies some of the curiosities of Benwee. But whether successful or not, it is not my task to tell. So, up we go clambering; and the mouth of a cave opened about eighty feet from the sea-beech, and we entered and found it curious, not for any beauty or for size-for it does not enter far in-but it runs like a perpendicular pipe upwards, some fifty or sixty feet, and the walls of it are all white, or rather cream-coloured, and it is full of a fine sand, the deposit of the decomposed quartz rock. In fact, this is only the vein of a soft portion of the surrounding silicious formation, and the percolation of water has loosened it and carried portions of it away, and so formed this cave -in dry and warm weather a quiet and cool place to rest in, and look out on the magnificent and melancholy sea, and hear no sound but its solemn moan, except the passionate challenge of the eagle, as he stands on his rockperch, and, as it were, demands why his dominion is disturbed. But we are at the top, having stripped coat and waist-picture. I should think there is an artist in Ireland that coat to grapple with it-and no water to be had-and it is the hottest sun that has shone on Ireland for two years! The ragged sheep are lying panting under the boggy banks of the mountain; the cliff-crow has his red bill open as he perches, oppressed with this unusal sunbeam, on the ledges of the precipice, and he has his wings loose from his body, as it were to gather air around his beating heart. I scarcely ever felt the sun so powe ful, or its intensity of light so great-for the rocks reflected it, the sea reflected it from every wavelet below, that answered to the gentle ruffle of a passing air-stream, and became a mirror to reverberate it upwards. All around, indeed, was in splendid repose. I had thought, when rowing along this sublime coast, that nothing could exceed the view upwards from the sea-level; and now I considered again, when on the top of the cliff, and just at the place where we had reached the high land, that the sight was finer; for here, in the centre of a crescent, of which Doonminalla formed the right horn and Benwee Head the left, was the whole semicircle between the two headlands, composed of the most shattered, broken-down, ruined cliffs that can possibly be imagined; just as if the mountain had been blown up with gunpowder, and masses of huge ruins of rock lay tumbling all around. Here crack behind crack, going back into the mountain, and presenting long parallel chasms, similar to what I had seen on Sheve Crohan, in Achill. Here a piece of the mountain had slipped down along the inclined plane of a smooth stratum, and what once formed an upper peak, was now some hundred feet half-way down, presenting most pic|turesquely its broken continuality. It is, indeed, a slip of singular interest and grandeur. Below, the green, pellucid, beryl sea, with its everlasting sigh, which comes up here in solemn cadence, a sea which is never seen to such advantage as from a great height, and especially as when here, many fathoms deep, its varied bottom can be observed, covered with its luxuriant vegetation. But now we must ascend Benwee, the highest point of this cut-down mountain-range of North Mayo-and we did so. A glorious eminence it is, indeed! The face of the precipice, as you looked downwards, seemed perpendicular, except that here and there was a dark streak, denoting a ledge, on which you could see young eaglets on their nests, and the old birds either soaring or perching near at hand. I never saw so many of these birds at a time, except at Horn Head, in Donegal. Mr H said, that though eagles were, no doubt, a good accompaniment to a scene of such grandeur as that we were now looking out on, yet they were extremely mischievous. Not content with their exploits at sea, and along the bays and rivers, where they pounce on the mackerell or the salmon, they hunt the hares on the mountain-side, destroy the grouse, carry off the lambs, sometimes kill, and in collected numbers devour the sheep. In fact, they have rendered Erris, which to all appearance should be one of the finest districts for game in the British islands, one of the worst for the sportsman that can be imagined. One of the men in our company, while we were looking This fact of the Tyrawly woman gave rise to a conversation on eagles, and Mr Henri remarked, 'A few days ago, I saw a hare shot, and the gun was scarcely discharged, when an eagle suddenly appeared and seemed very much disposed to dispute the prize. Indeed the boldness,' said he,' of these birds at times, when compared to their general wariness, is surprising, and I am almost disposed to believe that they not only know the effects of a gun, but that, by some sense, they ascertain whether it is loaded or not. My friend, Lieutenant Sterne, of Ballycastle, told me the following circumstance, which came lately within his knowledge. He had gone across Killala Bay to hold a court of inquiry at Pullackenny (county of Sligo), where he was shown a very large claw of an eagle, that was killed in the following manner: A young lad, whose father is a coastguard-man, shot a sea-gull on the shore, and was on the point of picking it up, when, to his astonishment, an eagle disputed possession of it, and seized him by the arm with his talons. The young fellow then drew his knife from his pocket, opened it with one hand and his teeth, and succeeded in dispatching his assailant. And here's for another yarn on the subject, with this difference-it occurred at home. Having not long ago heard an extraordinary story of one Marcus M'Grath, of Caryatyge (a village near me), having caught two full-grown eagles, I sent my servant, Owen, to hear the particulars, which were as follows: M'Grath, while on his way to Ballycastle, perceived on the mountain, inside Porturlin, two eagles fighting, who, after many struggles in the air, fell nearly exhausted close beside him. On perceiving him, the birds endeavoured to make off, but either through weakness or want of wind, they were unable to rise on the wing, and so, after a short race, he stunned one with a blow of his stick, and having secured it by throwing his coat over it, he pursued the other, and succeeded after a time in knocking it down also. He then attempted to carry his birds along, but finding it rather too tough a job, he pulled out their wing feathers, and left his prizes behind him, proceeding onwards to Ballycastle. On his return five days after his capture, strange to say, he fell in with his birds many miles asunder, and secured them. He sold them afterwards to a person of the name of Glennan, for five shillings, who sent them to his father, an eminent bird-preserver in Dublin, but either from starvation, or despair from having the feathers pulled out, by which alone they could soar on high, they died on their passage to Dublin. Perhaps this is a solitary instance of the capture of two full-grown eagles at the same time by one man. Shall I go on?' says Mr Henri; 'for I have other anecdotes.' 'Oh, by all means.' 'Well, here I go. When I first came to this country, a respectable old gentleman, then living, told me, and pledged his word to the truth of his statement, that for three weeks he daily had a fresh herring for his breakfast, obtained in the following singular way: One of his tenants every morning watched an eagle's nest on the adjoining cliff, and immediately on observing the old ones leave the nest, he descended to the ledge where the young birds were, and tied a woollen string tight round the necks, and then hid himself. The old ones on returning with a fish, and observing their children unable to eat it, immediately flew away to get another, supposing that the young rascals were capricious, and they must indulge them with a herring more to their liking. On the soaring away of the old birds, the fish was taken away and the string removed, and so the old master got his fresh-herring breakfast.' On hearing this I could not help smiling. 'Why do you smile?' said my friend. of field-sports and other habits of life, which perhaps depend as much upon the structure of society as upon climate; but it certainly appears to me that the same difference in favour of England is observable among the commercial and labouring classes, the former of which must be equally the sedentary, the latter pretty equally the reverse, in all countries; or, at least, if there be a difference, that difference is attributable to climate, and may fairly be set down among its advantages. A very able and intelligent traveller, Mr Laing, who is well acquainted with continental Europe, remarks, that such men as form our household troops and the grenadier companies of our regiments of the line, hardy, muscular, broad-shouldered, well-limbed men, are hardly to be met with abroad; and my own observation, both there and in America, induces me to agree fully in his 'For the reason,' said I; 'did you ever read my 'Sketches view. In America, particularly, no man who can help it in the South of Ireland?'' 'No, indeed, I did not.' 'Perhaps it is well for your character, as a true storyteller, you did not; for therein it is related that the wife of O'Sullivan Bear, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, was supported by a fosterer, who resorted to a trick of the very same nature to despoil the eaglets of their due, and convey it to his mistress.' 'Well,' says Mr Henri, both events may very well have occurred, but still there is a difference. What the Kerry fosterer did for necessity's sake, the Erris follower did out of curiosity, to have it to say that his master's breakfast was supplied by eagles. And really the more I have considered the habits of these birds, the more I am struck with their sagacity; and with respect to them and their doings, it is hard for me to draw the line between instinct and reason, both which qualities appear (to use a geological phrase) to pass into each other, and that so gradually, as to make it difficult to ascertain where one begins and the other ends. In proof of my assertion, I need only mention, that a servant of mine, a full-grown young woman, about twenty years of age, was some few years ago lying, face downwards, on the edge of a cliff, about six hundred feet in height, looking out for some lambs beneath, when, to make use of her own words, she thought that a cloud had suddenly fallen on her,' and, to her great dismay, found that her head was grasped by the talons of an eagle, that had cut her scalp deeply on either side, which, when she succeeded in driving off the bold bird, bled profusely. Now, as instinct would have taught the bird (I presume) what it could lift, and as it never could have been vain enough to think it could fly off with nine stones of bones, blood, and blue veins, it struck me at the time, that the feathered philosopher reasoned thus: Here's a tit bit poised nearly at her centre of gravity on the top of a cliff; and if I can only assist her, by alighting on and adding my weight to her head in getting to the bottom, what glorious pickings I shall have. Now, sir, should you, or any other person, be disposed to differ with me on this subject, you may visit the same eminence at Cranbay, and observe, as you readily may, a brace of eagles cruising in company; then listen to their barking-see their sudden pouncings at the banks beneath, evidently intended to start their game; and when the hapless hare is driven by fright from its form in the sand-hills, just mind how knowingly one bird keeps in the rear to take advantage of the turn! and if you, or any other gentleman, are not converted to my opinion, I give up my position as untenable.' CLIMATE IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. The more I travel the more reconciled I become to our own much-abused climate, both because it permits (as Charles the Second said) out-of-door exercise for more hours in the day and for more days in the year, on an average, than any other, but also because I feel sure that its temperate, moist character is more favourable to the production of a vigorous robust habit of body. If the superiority in breadth and depth of chest, strength of limb, and general development of muscle, which distinguishes the upper class in England from that of other countries were peculiar to that class, one might attribute it to the practice ever walks to any distance, and very few ride on horseback. You see young men driving about in carriages and waggons everywhere, both in town and country, and nothing surprises them more than the proposal of a long walk, either for purposes of sport or exercise. In summer the weather is too hot and relaxing; in winter the cold is too great, and the snow is on the ground, which makes walking, except on beaten roads, disagreeable; and in spring the country is all cut up with rain and melting snow; so that the latter part of the autumn is the only season of the year which really suits for active exercise on foot.| Godley. NATURAL HISTORY OF BRAZIL. The Brazil-wood-tree, from which the country takes its name (Casalpinia Brasiletto), called by the natives bri pitanga, is the same as the Sapan-wood of the East Indies. It is a government monopoly, and, owing to the improvident manner in which it has been cut down, is becoming scarce. Other species of trees yielding valuable dyes, forest-trees of all descriptions, some furnishing beautiful woods for cabinet work, others timber for shipbuilding, abound in the low lands. The prevailing character of the forests is a magnificence, arising from the infinite diversity, richness, and luxuriance of the vegetation, of which the untravelled European can have no conception. The various tints of a Brazilian forest are described as ranging from a light yellow green to one bordering on blue, mingled with red, brown, and deeper shades approaching to black. The silver-tree is of a brilliant white; the rose-wood-tree bears large golden blossoms, which beautifully contrast with the dark green of the double-feathered leaves; the Brazil-woodtree puts forth large flowers of a purple hue; the head of the mangoa is brown; and here and there, the dark brown of a Chilian fir appears among the lighter foliage, like a stranger amid the natives of the tropics. The effect of the flowering parasitical plants, which entwine about the foresttrees, and sometimes form, by interlacing, an almost impenetrable barrier, is compared to that of gay parterres in the air. The flora of Brazil is peculiarly rich. Nor is the animal kingdom less distinguished by its variety and profusion. Butterflies, rivalling in splendour the colours of the rainbow; myriads of the most brilliant beetles, sparkling like jewels on the leaves and flowers; birds of the most splendid form and superb plumage; above all, the various species of humming-birds, rivalling in beauty and lustre, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires; lizards and serpents of scarcely less brilliant colours; squirrels and troops of gregarious monkeys, with a variety of the gallinaceous tribes, toucans, fly-catchers, wood-peckers, and different kinds of the melodious thrush, are among the winged or creeping tenants of the forests; and even the campos or mountain plains abound with birds, reptiles, insects, as well as deer, tapirs, and pecaries.-Josiah Conder. Printed and published by JAMES HOGG, 122 Nicolson Street, Edinburgh; to whom all communications are to be addressed. Sold also by J. JOHNSTONE, Edinburgh; J. M'LEOD, Glasgow; W. CURRY, jun. & Co., Ireland; R. GROOMBRIDGE & SONS, London; W. M'COMB, Belfast; G. & R. KING, Aberdeen; R. WALKER, Dundee; G. PHILIP, Liverpool; FINLAY & CHARLTON, Newcastle: WRIGHTSON & WEBB, Birmingham; A. HEYWOOD and J. AINS WORTH, Manchester; G. CULLINGWORTH, Leeds; and all Booksellers. No. 62. EDINBURGH, SATURDAY, MAY 2, 1846. FIRESIDE MUSINGS. 6 We like a good fire in all its stages-in its infancy, its prime, and its decay. Preserve us from an apology for a fire, in the shape of half-a-dozen pieces of coal stuck on the top of a grate, on a chilly autumnal evening, in what is called a fire-basket-a sort of compromise the mistress of a mansion makes between her love of comfort and her horror of dust. Neither do we approve of a fire composed of one immense block of the jetty mineral, smothered up with dross, with a line of red peeping from under the lower bars of the grate-a fire which, the thrifty housewife remarks, 'might be a good fire all day if people would only let it alone.' Ay, that if! But in walks one of the lords of the creation, up goes the poker, smash goes the coal, and a crackling ensues that does one's heart good. Oh,' cries the lady, don't raise such a dust, if you please; and don't make such a noise-mind my poor head; the fire will do very well.' We have only met with one gentleman, in the course of our experience, who seemed so far to resist the stirrings of humanity within him as never to touch a fire; it might go out before his eyes, but he would not think of noticing it. It could not proceed from motives of economy, for he was one of the most generous of philanthropists; neither could it be the result of good training, for he never had a wife who made the fire her special dominion and the poker a sceptre which none must wield but herself. We framed various theories on the subject, all of which were dismissed as unsatisfactory, when it occurred to us to ask an explanation of the anomaly; what before had been mysterious was now clear as noonday-he never felt cold. Many are the trains of meditation into which we have been seduced by a habit of fire-gazing contracted in youth. When a fire gets a little sobered down, then it appears to us as a mirror of the past; in it the present assumes a softened aspect; nay, we even try to send through it an inquisitive glance into the future. We can trace in it countenances, some, alas! of which can only be the subjects for memory, and others which we fancy to be laughing at us for the long faces with which we regard them. Wordsworth has said, and most people have felt, that there are thoughts too deep for words,' so we could not, if we would, give an account of all the imaginings, pleasant and cheerful as a wedding party, or grave and solemn as a funeral procession, that have passed along the highway of our mind while studying the embers of a fire, which has assumed a shape not unlike the picturesque ruins of an ancient cathedral. One night lately, while thus engaged, we fell in the course of our musings into a mood of comparison, so to PRICE 14d. speak, of which Men and Coals formed the subject. At first sight it may appear that there are few points of resemblance between them, but a little consideration will show that it is otherwise. Both may be divided into two great classes, the good and the bad; and among the good of both bad individual members may be found, and so also with the bad classes of both. In coals, one bad piece will not only not burn itself, but will prevent the rest from giving forth their caloric. There the obnoxious piece lies; you may stir and smash it till your patience is exhausted, but unless you make an effort, and forcibly eject it, the fire will never burn to your satisfaction. It is the same among men. Some individuals, without intending it, operate upon society with the withering influence of what either is or used to be termed in Scotland 'ghaists' in fires. The friends of such persons may reason, threaten, and entreat by turns. It will be all in vain. The men, without being worse, are, however, stolid. Nothing but ejection will do; and when this is accomplished, you set matters to right. The bad piece removed, lay the coals properly together and they will burn clearly and steadily, giving a bright, cheerful light; and bring a number of good common sense men together, and they will plan and consult for their own and the general benefit, the result of their benevolent efforts soon making itself apparent. Some coals, however, though very good, require to be often broken and knocked up to make them burn, while others require only a gentle touch, and others again do best when left entirely to themselves. Thus it is with men. Some are very excellent men, and would wish to do all the good in their power, but then they are very diffident; they think anything they could do would have but little effect; they would willingly leave others to exert themselves who are more capable; or they are indolent, and it is so much trouble to attend meetings, and form societies, and make speeches, they would rather be excused-these require to be constantly stirred up, they need the influence of active spirits to keep them at their duty. Members of another class need only to be drawn out to bring all their powers to bear for the general good; while others, both from principle and temperament, are, independent of any extraneous impulse, always diligent in good works. Again, there are coals which blaze and crackle away delightfully, but it is soon over and they fall to ashes, while those which have promised little at first rapidly brighten up and manifest their sterling worth. Here also the analogy holds good. There are parrot men as well as parrot coals-those who enter on a course of action with a great deal of noise and bustle. You are continually hearing of what they have done, are doing, and intend to do; but when the force of the impulse which set them agoing is expended, they relapse immediately into a state of |