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ILLUSTRATIONS OF HUMANITY.

the pressure by withdrawing his own person from the mass, There is, however, an advantage to be derived from the utterance and reiteration of the complaint, if not by those

No. XXXIII.-THE OLD GENERAL GOING already in the press, at least by those who are still happily clear of it.

TO A LEVEE.

A ROYAL levee is an imposing and a splendid spectacle, and is regarded with peculiar veneration in all monarchical countries. To be presented at a levee to the reigning sovereign, is the very highest distinction to which many persons aspire.

The first appearance of a party at a levee is usually made on that party having performed some great public service, received some marked distinction from the crown, or been appointed to some important office. But when having once had the honour of being introduced to the monarch of the realm, the party may afterwards introduce any friend he pleases. Precautions are, however, as a matter of course, taken, to prevent the introduction to majesty of any improper person. The principal precaution is, that of requiring the names of all persons intended for presentation, to be forwarded to the palace some days before the ceremony takes place, in order that the proper inquiries may be made as to the fitness of the party aspiring at the honour of kissing hands with his

sovereign.

Officers who have acquired distinction in the army, are particularly fond, on their retirement from active service, of appearing at court. The publication of their names next day in the Court Circular and the daily papers, as having had the honour of being in the royal presence, affords them a gratification of no common kind. They imagine the announcement of the incident is regarded by their countrymen as the most interesting intelligence which the journals contain. Their happiness for the moment is complete.

Our artist has caught a glance of an Old General fully equipped for being ushered into the presence of royalty. We at first imagined that our artist had seen him in the very act of making his obeisance to his sovereign; but that could not be, as artists are not permitted to obtain stolen glances of what is going on in the presence of royalty. Our artist must therefore have only seen the Old General when on his way to the palace. See how prim, self-complacent, and halfdandified he looks, notwithstanding his advanced age! Depend upon it, he is a man of far more consequence in his own estimation, than any one of the many hundreds of distinguished persons, who are to be presented, or are to present others, on the same occasion.

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under the sun, but this evil of professional redundancy There are many "vanities and vexations of spirit” seems to be one of very great magnitude. It involves not merely an outlay of much precious time and substance to no purpose, but in most cases unfits those who constitute the "excess" from applying themselves afterwards to other pursuits. Such persons are the primary sufferers; but the community at large participates in the loss. It cannot but be interesting to inquire to what this tendency may be owing, and what remedy it might be useful to apply to the evil. Now, it strikes me that the great cause is the exclusive attention which people pay to the great prizes, and their total inconsideration of the number of blanks which accompany them. Life itself has been compared to a lottery; but in some departments the scheme solute gambling to purchase a share in it. So it is in the may be so particularly bad, that it is nothing short of abprofessions. A few arrive at great eminence, and these few excite the envy and admiration of all beholders; but they are only a few compared with the number of those who linger in the shade, and, however anxious to enjoy the sport, never once get a rap at the ball. profession as a provision for their children. They calculate Again, parents are apt to look upon the mere name of a all the expenses of general education, professional educa tion, and then of admission to "liberty to practise;" and finding all these items amount to a tolerably large sum, they conceive they have bestowed an ample portion on the son who has cost them "thus much monies." But unfortunately they soon learn by experience that the elevation of a profession, great as it is, does not always possess that homely recommendation of causing the "pot to boil," and that the individual for whom this costly provision has been made, cannot be so soon left to shift for himself. Here then is another cause of this evil, namely, that people do not adequately and fairly calculate the whole cost.

Of our liberal professions, the army is the only one that yields a certain income as the produce of the purchase money. But in these "piping times of peace," a private soldier in the ranks might as well attempt to verify the old song, and

"Spend half-a-crown out of sixpence a day," as an ensign to pay mess-money and band money, and all other regulation monies, keep himself in dress coat and epaulettes, and all the other et ceteras, upon his mere pay. The thing cannot be done. To live in any comfort in the army, a subaltern should have an income from some other source, equal at least in amount to that which he receives through the hands of the paymaster. The army is, in fact, an expensive profession, and of all others the least agreeable to one who is prevented, by circumscribed means, from doing as his brother officers do. Yet the mistake of venturing to meet all these difficulties is not unfrequently admitted, with what vain expectation it is needless to inquire. The usual result is such as one would anticipate, namely, that the rash adventurer, after incurring debts, or putting his friends to unlooked-for charges, is obliged after a short time to sell out, and bid farewell for ever to the unprofitable profession of arms.

It would be painful to dwell upon the situation of those who enter other professions without being duly prepared to wait their turn of employment. It is recognised as a poignantly applicable truth in the profession of the bar, that "many are called but few are chosen ;" but with very

few and rare exceptions indeed, the necessity of biding the time is certain. In the legal and medical professions there is no fixed income, however small, insured to the adventurer; and unless his circle of friends and connexions be very wide and serviceable indeed, he should make up his mind for a procrastinated return and a late harvest. But how many from day to day, and from year to year, do launch their bark upon the ocean, without any such prudent foresight! The result therefore is, that vast proportion of disastrous voyages and shipwrecks of which we hear so constantly.

Such is the admitted evil-it is granted on all sides. The question is, what is to be done?-what is the remedy? Now, the remedy for an overstocked profession very evidently is, that people should forbear to enter it. I am no Malthusian on the subject of population: I desire no unnatural checks upon the increase and multiplication of her majesty's subjects; but I should like to drain off a surplus from certain situations, and turn off the in-flowing stream into more profitable channels. I would advise parents, then, to leave the choice of a liberal profession to those who are able to live without one. Such parties can afford to wait for advancement, however long it may be in coming, or to bear up against disappointment, if such should be their lot. With such it is a safe speculation, and they may be left to indulge in it, if they think proper. With others it is not so. But it will be asked, what is to be done with the multitudes who would be diverted from the professions, if this advice were acted upon? I answer, that the money unprofitably spent upon their education, and in fees of admission to these expensive pursuits, would insure them a "good location" and a certain provision for life in Canada, or some of the colonies; and that any honourable occupation which would yield a competency ought to be preferred to "professions" which, however "liberal," hold out to the many but a very doubtful prospect of that result.

It is much to be regretted that there is a prevalent notion among certain of my countrymen, that "trade" is not a “genteel" thing, and that it must be eschewed by those who have any pretensions to fashion. This unfortunate, and I must say unsound state of opinion, contributes also I fear, in no small degree, to that professional redundancy of which we have been speaking. The supposed absolute necessity of a high classical education is a natural concomitant of this opinion. All our schools therefore are eminently classical. The University follows, as a matter of course, and then the University leads to a liberal profession, as surely as one step of a ladder conducts to another. Thus the evil is nourished at the very root. Now, I would take the liberty of advising those parents who may concur with me in the main point of over-supply in the professions, to begin at the beginning, and in the education of their children, to exchange this super-abundance of Greek and Latin for the less elegant but more useful accomplishment of "ciphering." I am disposed to concur with that facetious but shrewd fellow, Mr. Samuel Slick, upon the inestimable advantages of that too much neglected art neglected, I mean, in our country here, Ireland. He has demonstrated that they do every thing by it in the States, and that without it they could do nothing. With the most profound respect to my countrymen, then, I would earnestly recommend them to cultivate it. But it may perhaps be said that there is no encouragement to mercantile pursuits in Ireland, and that if there were, there would be no necessity for me to recommend "ciphering" and its virtues to the people. To this I answer, that merchandize offers its prizes to the ingenious and venturous much rather than to those who wait for a 66 highway" to be made for them. If people were resolved to live by trade, I think

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THE FAIR MAID OF LUDGATE. THE reign of King Charles the Second of England was marked by two great public calamities: the first of them, that memorable plague which devastated London; and then followed that deplorable fire which destroyed such a large portion of the same devoted metropolis.

It happened shortly before the pestilence, that the king had a design to serve in the city; wherefore he rode that way on horseback, attended only by the Lord Rochester, and one or two gentlemen of the court. As they were riding gently, in this manner, up the hill of Ludgate, towards St. Paul's, the earl observed that the king stopped short, and fixed his eyes on a certain casement on the right hand side of the way. The gentlemen, turning their heads in the same direction, immediately beheld a young and beautiful woman, in a very rich and fanciful dress, and worthy indeed of the admiration of the monarch; who with sheer delight stood as if rooted to the spot. The lady for a while did not observe this stoppage, so that the company of courtiers had full time to observe her countenance and dress. She wore upon her head a small cap of black velvet, which fitted very close, and came down with a point upon her forehead, where at the peak of the velvet, there hung a very large pearl. Her hair, which was of an auburn colour, and very abundant, fell down on either side of her face in large ringlets, according to the fashion of the time, and clustered daintily about her fair neck and bosom; several of the locks, moreover, being bound together here and there by clusters of fine pearls. As for her boddice, it was of white silk, with a goodly brooch of emeralds in the shape of strawberry leaves, which were held together by stalks of gold. Her sleeves, which were very wide, and hung loose from the elbow, were of the same silk; but there was a short under-sleeve of peach-blossom satin, that fastened with clasps of emerald about the mid-arm. Her bracelets were ornamented with the same gem; but the bands were of gold, as well as the girdle that encircled her waist. Thus much the company could perceive, as she leaned upon the edge of the window with one delicate hand: at last-for in the mean while she had been stedfastly looking abroad, as in a reverie-she recollected herself, and observing that she was gazed at, immediately withdrew.

The king watched a minute or two at the window, after she was gone, like a man in a dream; and then turning round to Rochester, inquired if he knew any thing of the lady he had seen. The earl replied instantly that he knew nothing of her, except she was the loveliest creature that had ever feasted his eyes; whereupon the king commanded him to remain behind, and learn as many particulars as he could. The king with the gentlemen then rode on very thoughtfully into the city, where he 'transacted what he had to do, and then returned with the same company by Cheapside, where they encountered the earl.

As soon as the king saw Rochester, he asked eagerly, "What news ?" Whereupon the latter acquainted him with all he knew. "As for her name," he said, "she is called Alice, but her surname is swallowed up in that of the Fair Maid of Ludgate-for that is her only title in

these parts. She is an only child, and her father is a rich
jeweller; and so in faith was her mother likewise, to judge
by this splendid sample of their workmanship."
"Verily I think so too," returned the monarch; "she
must come to court." And with that they began to con-
cert together how to prosecute that design.

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Ralph Seaton, my heart is brimfull of thanks to you for this tenderness towards me; but you have a mother and sister for your care."

And doubtless the Fair Maid of Ludgate would have been ensnared by the devices of that profligate courtier, but for an event that turned all thoughts of intrigue and "They are safe, Alice, and far from this horrible place." human pleasure into utter despondency and affright. For "Would to God you were with them! Dear Ralph now broke out that dreadful pestilence which soon raged Seaton, begone; and the love you bear towards me set so awfully throughout the great city, the mortality increas-only at a distance in your prayers. I wish you a thousand ing from hundreds to thousands of deaths in a single week. At the first ravages of the infection, a vast number of families deserted their houses, and fled into the country; the remainder enclosing themselves as rigidly within their own dwellings, as if they had been separately besieged by some invisible foe. In the mean time, the pestilence increased in fury, spreading from house to house, and from street to street, till whole parishes were subjected to its rage. At this point, the father of Alice fell suddenly ill, though not of the pest; however, the terrified domestics could not be persuaded otherwise, than that he was smitten by the plague, and accordingly they all ran off together, leaving him to the sole care of his afflicted child.

On the morning after this desertion, as she sat weeping at the bedside of her father, the Fair Maid heard a great noise of voices in the street; wherefore, looking forth at the front casement, she saw a number of youths, with horses ready saddled and bridled, standing about the door. As soon as she showed herself at the window, they all began to call out together, beseeching her to come down, and fly with them from the city of death; which touched the heart of Alice very much: after thanking them therefore, with her eyes full of tears, she pointed inwards, and told them that her father was unable to rise from his bed. "Then there is no help for him," cried Hugh Percy. "God receive his soul! The plague is striding hither very fast. I have seen the red crosses in Cheapside. Pray come down, therefore, unto us, dearest Alice, for we will wait on you to the ends of the earth."

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"Hugh Percy," she said at last, "if it be as you say, the will of God be done; but I will never depart from the help of my dear father;" and with that, waving her hand to them as a last farewell, she closed the casement, and returned to the sick chamber.

On the morrow, the gentle youths came again to the house on the same errand, but they were fewer than before. They moved Alice by their outcries to come at last to the window, who replied in the same way to their intreaties, notwithstanding the fond youths continued to use their arguments, with many prayers to her, to come down, but she remained constant in her denial; at length, missing some of the number, she inquired for Hugh Percy, and they answered dejectedly, that he had sickened of the plague that very morn.

"Alas! gentle kind friends," she cried, "let this be your warning, and depart hence in good time. It will make me miserable for ever to be answerable for your mischances; as for myself, I am resigned entirely to the dispensation of God." And with these words she closed the window, and the melancholy youths went away slowly, except one, who had neither brought any horse with him, nor joined in the supplications of the rest. The disconsolate Alice, coming afterwards to the window for air, beheld him thus standing with his arms folded against the door.

farewells in one word-but, pray, begone." And with that,
turning away, with one hand over her eyes, she closed the
casement with the other, as if for ever and ever.
The next morning the young men came for the third
time to the house, and there was a red cross but a few
doors off. The youths were now but three or four in num-
ber, several having betaken themselves to the country in
despair, and others had been breathed upon by the life-
wasting pestilence. It was a long while before Alice came
to the window, so that their hearts began to sink with
dread, for they made sure that she was taken ill. How-
ever, she came forth to them at last, in extreme distress,
to see them so wilful for her sake.

"For the dear love of God!" she cried, "do not come thus any more, unless you would break my heart! Lo! the dreadful signal of death is at hand, and to-morrow it may be set upon this very door. Do not cause the curses of your friends and parents to be heaped hereafter on my miserable head. If you have any pity for me in your hearts, pray let this be the uttermost farewell be tween us."

At these words, the sad youths began to shed tears; and some of them, with a broken voice, begged of her to bestow on them some tokens for a remembrance. Thereupon she went for her bracelets, and after kissing them, gave them between two of the young men; to a third she cast her glove; but to Seaton she dropped a ring, which she had pressed sundry times to her lips.

The day after the final departure of the young men, the ominous red cross was marked on the jeweller's door; for as he was known to be ill, it was supposed of course that his malady was the plague. In consequence, the door was rigorously nailed up, so that no one could pass in or out, and moreover, there were watchmen appointed for the same purpose of blockade. It was the duty of these attendants to see that the people within the suspected houses were duly supplied with provision; whereas, by the negligence of these hard-hearted men, it happened frequently that the persons confined within perished of absolute want. Thus it befel after some days, that Alice saw her father relapsing again, for the lack of mere necessaries to support him in his weakness, his disorder having considerably abated. In this extremity, seeing a solitary man in the street, she stretched out her arms towards him, and besought him for the love of God to bring a little food; but the bewildered man, instead of understanding, bade her "flee from the wrath to come,” and with sundry leaps and frantic gestures, went capering and dancing on his way.

Her heart at this disappointment was ready to burst with despair; but turning her eyes towards the opposite side, she perceived another man coming down the street, with a pitcher and a small loaf. As soon as he came under the window, she made the same prayer to him as to the former, begging him for charity, and the sake of her dear father, to allow him but a sup of the water and a small morsel of the bread.

"It is for that purpose," said the other, "that I am come."

And as he looked upward, she discovered that it was Seaton who had brought this very timely supply. "You may eat and drink of these," he continued, "without any suspicion, for they come from a place many miles hence, where the infection is yet unknown."

The heart of Alice was too full to let her reply, but she ran forthwith, and fetched a cord, to draw up the loaf and the pitcher withal, the last being filled with good wine. When her father had finished his repast, which revived him very much, she returned with the pitcher, and let it down by the cord to Seaton, who perceived something glittering within the vessel.

"Ralph Seaton," she said, "wear that jewel for my sake. The blessing of God be ever with you in return for this precious deed! but I conjure you, by the Holy Trinity, do not come hither again."

The generous Seaton with great joy placed the brooch within his bosom, and with a signal of farewell to Alice, departed without another word. And now her heart began to think again of the morrow, when assuredly her beloved parent would be reduced to the like extremity; for during all this time the negligent watchman had never come within sight of the house. All the night hours she spent, therefore, in anguish and dread, which were still more aggravated by the dismal rumbling of the carts, that at midnight were used to come about for the corpses of the dead.

In the middle of the night one of those coarse slovenly hearses, with a cargo of dead bodies, passed through the street, attended by a bellman and some porters, with flaming torches, unto whom the miserable Alice called out with a lamentable voice. The men, at her summons, came under the window with the cart, expecting some dead body to be cast out to them, the mortality admitting of no more decent rites; but when they heard what she wanted, they replied sullenly, that they had business enough of their own to convey away all the carrion, and so passed on with their horrible chimes.

The morning was spent in the same alternations of fruitless hope and despair,-till towards noon, when Seaton came again with the pitcher and a small basket, which contained some cold baked meat, and other eatables, that he had procured with infinite pains from a country place, at a considerable distance. The fair maiden drew up these supplies with great eagerness, her father beginning now to have that appetite which is one of the first symptoms of recovery from any sickness; accordingly he fed upon the victuals with great relish. The gentle Alice, in the mean while, lowered down the empty basket and the pitcher to Seaton, and then again besought him not to expose himself to such risks by coming into the city; to which he made no answer but by pressing his hands against his bosom, as if to express that such errands gratified his heart; whereupon she made fresh signs to say farewell, and he departed.

In this manner several weeks passed away, the gallant youth never failing to come day after day with fresh provision, till at last the old jeweller was able to sit up. The gracious Providence preserved them all, in the mean time, from any attack of the pestilence, though many persons died every day, on both sides of the street, the distemper being at its worst pitch. Thus the houses became desolate, and the streets silent, and beginning to look green even, by the springing up of grass between the untrodden

stones.

The prison-house of the Fair Maid of Ludgate and her father, soon became, therefore, very irksome, and especially when the latter got well enough to stir about, and to behold through the window these symptoms of the public calamity, which filled him with more anxiety than he had

ever felt, on account of his dear child, whose life was not secure, any more than his own, for a single hour. His alarm and disquiet on this account threatening to bring on a relapse of his malady, the tender girl found but little happiness in his recovery, which seemed thus to have been altogether in vain. And truly, it was a sufficient grief for any one to be in the centre, though unhurt, of such a horrible devastation; whereof none could guess at the continuance, whether it would cease of its own accord, or rage on till there were no more victims to be destroyed. The plague, however, abated towards the close of the year, when the king, who had removed with his court to Windsor in the midst of the alarm, felt disposed one day to pay a visit to the metropolis. Accordingly, mounting on horseback, he rode into town, accompanied by the lord Rochester, and the same gentlemen who had been his attendants on the former occasion.

The monarch was naturally much shocked at the desolate aspect of the place, which from a great and populous city, had become almost a desert; the sound of the horses' hoofs echoing dismally throughout the solitary streets, but bringing very few persons to look out at the windows, and of those, the chief part were more like lean ghastly ghosts than human living creatures. In consequence, he rode along in a very melancholy mood of mind, which the pleasant earl endeavoured to enliven by various witty jests, but without any effect, for they sounded hollow and untimely, even in his own ear.

At last arriving at the Hill of Ludgate, and the image of the Fair Maid coming to his remembrance, the king looked towards the house; and lo! there frowned the horrible red cross, which was still distinct upon the door. Immediately he pointed out this deadly signal to Rochester, who had already noticed it, and then both shook their heads, meaning to say that she was dead; however, to make certain, the earl alighted, and knocked with all his might at the door. But there was no answer, nor any appearance of a face at any window. Thereupon, with very heavy hearts, they rode onwards for a few doors farther, where there was a young man, like a spectre, sitting at an open casement, with a large book, like a Bible, in his hands. The king, who spied him first, asked of him very eagerly whether the Fair Maid of Ludgate was alive or dead, but the ghostly man could tell nothing of the matter, except that the jeweller had been the very first person to be seized by the plague in their quarter. Thereupon the king made up his mind that the fair Alice had perished amongst the many thousand victims of the pest, and with a very sorrowful visage he rode on through the city, where he spent some hours in noticing the deplorable consequences of that visitation.

Afterwards, he returned with his company by the same way, and when they came towards the jeweller's house, in Ludgate, there were several young men standing about the door. They had been knocking to obtain tidings of the Fair Maid, but without any better success than before; so that getting very impatient they began, as the king came up, to cast stones through the windows. The earl of Rochester, seeing them at this vain work, called out as he passed,

"Gentlemen, you are wasting your labour! The divinity of your city is dead; as you may know, by asking of the living skeleton at yonder casement."

At these words, the young men, supposing that the earl had authority for what he said, desisted from their attempts, and the two companies went each their several ways; the king with his attendants to Windsor, and the sad youths to their homes, with grief on all their faces, and very aching hearts, through sorrow for the Fair Maid of Ludgate.

As for the gallant Ralph Seaton, he had ceased to come beneath the window for some time before, since there was no longer any one living within the house to drink from his pitcher, or to eat out of his basket. Notwithstanding, he continued now and then to bring a few pieces of game, and sometimes a flask also, to the father of Alice, who lived under the same roof, for the elder Seaton was a good yeoman of Kent, and thither Ralph had conveyed the old citizen as soon as he was well enough to be removed. The old jeweller outlived the plague by a score of years; but the Fair Maid of Ludgate, who had survived the pestilence, was carried off shortly afterwards by marriage, the title which had belonged to her in the city being resolved into that of the dame Alice Seaton.

MORAL EVIL MAN'S OWN CREATION. MAN brings upon himself a thousand calamities, as consequences of his artifices and pride, and then, overlooking his own follies, gravely investigates the origin of what he calls evil.

He compromises every natural pleasure to acquire fame among transient beings, who forget him nightly in sleep, and eternally in death; and seeks to render his name celebrated among posterity, though it has no identity with his person, and though posterity and himself can have no contemporaneous feeling.

He deprives himself and all around him of every passing enjoyment, to accumulate wealth that he may purchase other men's labour, in the vain hope of adding happiness to his own.

He omits to make effective laws to protect the poor against the oppressions of the rich, and then wears out his existence under the fear of becoming poor, and being the victim of his own neglect and injustice.

He arms himself with murderous weapons; and on the slightest instigation, and for hire, practises murder as a science, follows this science as a regular profession, and honours its chiefs above benefactors and philosophers, in proportion to the quantity of blood they have shed, or the mischiefs they have perpetrated.

He disguises the most worthless of the people in showy liveries, and then excites them to murder men whom they never saw, by the fear of being killed if they do not kill. He revels in luxury and gluttony, and then complains of the diseases which result from repletion.

He tries in all things to counteract or improve the provisions of nature, and then afflicts himself at his disappointments.

He multiplies the chances against his own life and health by his numerous artifices, and then wonders at their fatal results.

He shuts his eyes against the volume of truth as presented by nature, and, vainly considering that all was made for him, founds on this false assumption various doubts in regard to the justice of eternal causation.

He interdicts the enjoyment of all other creatures, and regarding the world as his property, in mere wantonness destroys myriads on whom have been bestowed beauties and perfections.

He forgets that to live and let live is a maxim of universal justice, extending not only to his fellow-creatures, but to inferior ones, to whom his moral obligations are greater, because they are more in his power.

He afflicts himself that he cannot live for ever, though his forefathers have successively died to make room for him. He repines at the thought of losing that life, the use of which he so often perverts: and though he began to exist but yesterday, thinks the world was made for him, and that he ought to continue to enjoy it for ever.

He desires to govern others, but, regardless of their dependence upon his benevolence, is commonly gratified in displaying the power entrusted to him by a tyrannical abuse of it.

He makes laws, which, in the hands of mercenary law. yers, serve as snares to unwary poverty-but as shields to crafty wealth.

He acknowledges the importance of educating youth, yet teaches them any thing but their social duties in the political state in which they live.

He passes his days in questioning the providence of nature, in ascribing evil to supernatural causes, in feverish expectation of results contrary to the necessary harmony of the world.

AUTOGRAPHS AND NOTICES OF DISTINGUISHED PERSONS.-No. VII. SIR FRANCIS BURDETT.

THE penmanship of the hon. baronet, so long, in the estimation of ultra-reformers, "Westminster's pride and England's glory," has a good deal of the crooked irregular aspect which usually characterises the penmanship of persons of advanced age.

+ Burdett

Sir Francis, though now upwards of sixty-five years of age, is as erect in his gait, and as neat in his general appearance, as if he were only in his thirtieth year; in fact he is still decidedly handsome. His complexion is clear and fresh, and his face is without a wrinkle. His hair is of a snow-white complexion, and very long, though gra dually getting thinner than it used to be. He now very rarely attends the House of Commons, but mingles much in society. There is an impression abroad, that in the advent of Sir Robert Peel to office, he will be raised to the peerage.

LORD HOWICK.

There is, it will be seen, a sort of crookedness about the autograph of the noble lord, who, as the reader is aware, is the son of earl Grey, and is destined to succeed him in his title and estates. He has just been ejected from the representation of Northumberland.

Howick

In the noble lord's case, the theory of a sympathy between the mental character and penmanship of individuals holds good to a certain extent, for he is a crooked-tempered capricious man. He is one of the impracticable class; which is the more to be regretted, as he possesses a highlycultivated mind and great general talents. He is lame on one leg, which causes a marked limping in his walk. He is tall and slender, with a visible stoop about the shoulders. His hair is of a sandy colour, and his complexion pale. His features are hard and thin, and the expression of his countenance is that of a discontented man. He is about his fortieth year.

MR. FOX MAULE.

Mr. Fox Maule, late member for the Elgin district of Burghs, but now the member for Perth, writes a passable

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