the business, and the exchanges; or, let him look at home, every thing is wrong, every thing wants improving a part of his house is misbuilt-his walks are badly laid out, or a clump of trees spoils his prospect. These are mended, and this gives rise to new wants, and fresh improvements. So he goes on, and dies at last amid all the mighty bustle attendant on the planting of an orchard-the cutting of a canal, or the building of a greenhouse. Perhaps the best personification of contentment is a fat London Alderman, seated, after a plentiful dinner, in his easy chair-his wine before him-his pipe-his optics half closed, and not an idea in his brain of either past, present, or future. It is rather to be remarked that it is always confined to " 'fat, gross men." Contentment and corpulency go hand in hand. There is no analogy between it and leanness. A thin contented man is quite a paradox. Now look at its effects upon human nature. Where is it that all your bold, fiery, active, daring, enterprising spirits are to be found? Is it among your men of bone and muscle, or your men of fat and oil? how many fat men are there on record that have ever done a daring deed? Cæsar disliked Cassius for his want of the aldermanic characteristics. "That Cassius is too thin," he exclaims-and again, "although I fear him not, would he were fatter."

Had Milton been a contented man, think ye the world would have been in possession of Paradise Lost. Had Byron been so, would he have written Childe Harold? Would a contented man have painted the Cartoons: or, had Columbus been so, would he have been the discoverer of America? No! were contentment to become in any degree general, its benumbing influence would spread itself over all the active principles of our nature. Can it be supposed that such a lethargic thing and the lofty aspirations of genius could exist in the same person? No! the nonsense of contentment and a cottage is prettier in the pages of poetry than it would be useful in actual life. Look at it its effects upon nations. Was the free and fiery Spartan, or the noble Roman, famed for it? Or, to come to modern times, is it not notorious that it is to be found in the greatest degree among the degraded serfs of a Russian autocrat? there is not in the world a more contented class of men, or who have less wish to change their situations

than the Russian peasantry. It does and can only exist with ignorance, and where man is free and in possession of his active faculties, it flies from him.

WILLIAM COX.

THE CAVALRY DRILL.

A COMIC MILITARY SKETCH.

A squadron of horse is a beautiful sight, when it is seen in the perfection and glory of its "pride, pomp, and circumstance." The gallant bearing of the cavalier, who bestrides his courser, as if, centaur-like, they formed but one body, and were guided by but one volition; the well-trained paces of the steed, and the gorgeous panoply and trappings of horse and rider, always impress the mind with an idea of irresistible strength, the dread beauty of the field, and those feelings are aptly called certaminis gaudia. It is amusing to turn from such a scene, and to pursue this splendour of equipment, and exquisite discipline and regularity of movement, to their first principles; to examine out of what elements such perfect symmetry is produced, and by what preliminary steps they come at last to "witch the world with noble horsemanship." How all this is brought about may be gathered from the following sketch of a cavalry ridingschool in the British army,-the conclusion of which we reserve for our next.

Riding-master.-Cornet Waddle, per. mit me, sir, to wish you joy in having, with whole limbs, surmounted the dangers of the minor drills.

Cornet Waddle.-If you do, si, it's more than I do; besides, see, my shins have been literally skinned, toe-nails torn off, bones sprained ;~but, sir, I do not wish to complain.

Riding - master. Complain, sir !— there's no such section in the whole code of military law. What! I see you have got your old friend, Bouncing Billy.

now,

Cornet Waddle. Yes, sir; finding myself master of him, I have purchased him as a charger.

Riding-master.-Master of him, did

you say?

Cornet Waddle-O yes, sir, I flatter myself so, or any horse in your regiment.

Riding-master.-Good news! glorious news! I have made many good horsemen. Sergeant Squint, take a peep through the ranks, and see if you cannot

get a horse that will break Cornet Waddle's neck; no, no, I do not mean your neck; but, but

Cornet Waddle. But, what, sir? Sergeant Squint.-I see the Parched Pea is here, a good 'un to larn to ride on; if Cornet Waddle can keep on him, it's sure-it's more than any man in the regiment can. Why, sir, that's the same horse that kilt Cornet Noddle-broke seven ribs of Cornet Shanks-smashed the thigh - bone of Sergeant Crook shanks, and has sent many a good man to his grave!

Riding-master.-Poh! poh! poh! sergeant what are these trifles to do with Cornet Waddle? Do you suppose Cornet Waddle is to be intimidated by such common incidents as those ?-Bring out the Parched Pea.

Sergeant Squint.-Yes, sir. Riding-master.-That said horse can bound twenty feet like an antelope, walk upon his hinder extremities like a dog, kick the moon, and tumble with any showman in the kingdom; but that is not all; for, when he has thrown his rider, he will eat him into the bargain.

Cornet Waddle.-Sir, permit me to return you my most grateful thanks for your solicitude in endeavouring to make me a good horseman; but do you not think I had better make my will before I risk my precious limbs on that delectable animal-cannibal, I mean?

Sergeant Squint.-Sir, here is the horse.

Riding-master. Cornet Waddle, there is an eye for you!-there's a form --symmetry itself! Cornet Waddle, come, sir, mount him: don't go near his heels, or he will lend you a shoe in a moment. Take care, sir, he don't bite you.

Cornet Waddle.-Now, riding-master, don't you think I should be a madman to get upon that mad brute! why, sir, a man had better be lashed to the horns of a wild buffalo than have his brains kicked out, or be eat alive. Look, sir, three men cannot hold him!

Riding-master.-Yes, sir, all spirit, -no vice, sir; quiet as a lamb, I assure you, sir; he is only anxious to begin his work.

Cornet Waddle. That is more than I am.

Riding-master.-Come, sir, mount; I cannot keep the squad here all day. Cornet Waddle.-Wo! wo! he won't stand still, sir.

Riding-master.-Never mind, sir, as long as your head is not in it. Heads up-heels out-bend the small of your back-steady. Cornet Gravely, what horse is that you are on?

Cornet Gravely.-Sky Rocket; the horse that broke the leg of Corporal Shin.

Riding-master.-A real good one. Come next to Cornet Waddle; you must keep your eyes on that horse.

Cornet Gravely.-How can I, sir, when I have got only one left.

Riding-master. Well, then, keep your eye on him, or he will give you one of his affectionate embraces. Squad, attention! Every eye to the front, not a muscle to move: steady, gentlemen! Cornet Gravely, keep your spurs out of your horse's sides; he can kick fast enough without your assistance. Pray, Cornet Waddle, do keep that horse steady. Draw swords! Why don't you draw your sword, Cornet Waddle?

Cornet Waddle.-Because I have no hand to spare; I can hardly keep on this wriggling beast with both hands; he is like an eel under me. Stand still, you brute!-what, you won't, won't you? -then take those in your side. Riding master.-Cornet Waddle, you are down.

Cornet Waddle.-No, sir, I have just got up; and if I again get on that horse, may I never get down again. Why, sir, a man may as well soar upon the rolling clouds.

Riding master. - Cornet Gravely, do pray jump off Sky Rocket, and mount this wonderful horse, and shew them how to ride. No laughing, Cornet White; it is highly improper, indecorous, and in direct violation of military discipline, to laugh at the misfortunes of a newcomer. Cornet Gravely, what's your tongue doing in your cheek? Cornet White, what are you winking about?-no elbowing, Cornet Skinner. Gentlemen, if I see any more of this tittering, I shall be under the disagreeble necessity of sending the whole of you to the awkward squad. Steady! Well done, Cornet Gravely, this is the way to mount. Let him kick, he will soon get

that is the way to sit; watch how right up his body is!

Cornet Waddle.-Yes, sir; and if I was there I should be soon right down. Riding - master. Cornet Waddle, mount Cornet Gravely's horse; he is quite quiet, only now and then takes a fit of pitching a sumerset in the air, and occasionally indulging himself on his next neighbour, should he be crowded. Therefore, keep him well in hand. Well mounted! Indeed, sir, "Richard is himself again.' Now, gentlemen, we will try a little trot. Body square to the front, stirrup-irons lightly touching. Trot! Halt! Upon my honour, Cornet Waddle, you are incorrigibly bad. If you hang back, sir, you will get your brains knocked out: come up in the front rank; and you, Cornet Gravely, keep him in his place. Trot!-faster faster! Canter!-faster-faster! Cornet Waddle put your spurs in him, and keep him in his place..

Cornet Waddle.-I cannot find my legs, much more my spurs. Oh dear! I am jammed here as fast as a wedge, and I don't think my horse's legs have touched the ground these two hundred yards!

Riding-master.-So much the better; they will last the longer-faster!

Cornet Shins.-Oh dear! oh dear! Riding-master.-Halt!-what is the matter, Cornet Shins?-what have you lost?

Cornet Shins.-Only one of my boots and spur.

Riding-master.-Where is it?

Cornet Shins.-Sticking in Cornet Waddle's leg, I see. Cornet Waddle, I shall trouble you for that boot and spur when perfectly convenient. Ha! ha! ha!

Riding-master. Sergeant Squint, take Cornet Shins to the awkward squad for seven years.

Sergeant Squint.-Years, sir? Riding-master.-No, days. Cornet Shins.-Waddle, good bye, I never expect to see you again.

Riding-master.-Ha! ha! he! Gentlemen, no laughing, or I must send you to Cornet Shins. Now, gentlemen, we will try the charge, if you please.

Cornet Gravely.-Please, sir! I am delighted.

Riding-master. No talking in the ranks, Cornet Gravely. Are you not -well, Cornet. Waddle?

Cornet Waddle. Indeed, sir, I am very unwell!

Riding-master.— -I am sorry to hear it, sir. What is the matter?

Cornet Waddle.- Why, sir, in the first place, I find the rowel of Cornet Shin's spur still in my leg; two buttons of my pantaloons sticking in my knees; my legs squeezed as flat as pancakes; my mouth full of sand, my eyes full of gravel; one heel of my boot gone, spur and all; lost my cap and sword, reins broken, and one stirrup gone; my head going round at the rate of a wind-mill, my blood boiling hot, my heart in a full gallop, and I am as blind as a bat; and all these disorganized materials mounted on the back of a horse, mad as a March hare. Why, sir, he is worse than the Parched Pea; he made such a bound when we were charging, that his head must have touched the skies. Do, pray, sir, permit me to dismount.

Riding-master.-What, sir? for those trifles? When you have a limb broken or dislocated, an eye knocked out, or your teeth knocked in, or your neck broken; then, sir, you may have cause to complain. Gallop!-faster-faster! Charge! Halt! Well done, gentlemen well done, indeed. Where is Cornet White?

Cornet Gravely.-Yonder, sir, he goes, like the wind.

Cornet Waddle.-Yes, sir, and if ever I trust my precious carcass on a horse again, spit in my face, and call me horse: that is all, sir. Why, sir, a man stands as good a chance of his life when turned off at Newgate, as on those mad horses. Sir, I tender my resignation. Ride again I positively will not. See, I am as battered as an old tin-kettle that has been tied to a dog's tail and hunted through a whole regiment.

Riding-master.-Poh! poh! Cornet Waddle! Why, sir, you have not a single bone broken yet.

Cornet Waddle.-That is not quite so clear to me; this leg seems rather rickety.

Riding-master.-Poh! poh! poh! sir! mere sciatica, sir. Why, that sergeant, now the best rider in the corps, when he began his riding drills, suffered ten times as much; had a hundred more accidents: tell the cornet, for his consolation, what befel you, Sergeant Squint.

Sergeant Squint. Certainly, sir. (The sergeant, having made his apologies, thus began).—The first morning I attended squadron, the same, Cornet Waddle, I had eleven falls; broke the splinter-bone of my right leg, dislocated my right shoulder-bone, fractured my left arm, lacerated my right leg, sprained my right thumb, had two black eyes and a bloody nose; and that was not all, sir, for, a week after, complaining to the doctor of a pain in my side, he discovered half a dozen ribs broken, besides other external and internal injuries. You see, sir, this nose has never been straight since, this arm in its place, or this thumb put right.

Riding-master. I hope this catalogue of trifles will prove consolatory to you, and induce you to be resigned to your fate, and not to fly from the glorious profession of arms for a mere trifle.

Cornet Waddle.-Sir, I am now with. out a crooked nose, dislocated bones, or sprained thumbs, on terra firma, and if I again put my foot in the stirrup of one of those mad horses, I richly deserve a crooked nose, crooked limbs, and a crooked life, too.

He was carried home in a palanquin; exchanged from the dragoons to a foot regiment. When I saw him, some few years after, it is true he had not either a broken nose or limb, but bunnions and corns studded his splaw foot, and he waddled like a duck; when a little courage would have carried him through all his earthly difficulties, and he might have been a bright cavalry officer, instead of an infantry one.

Cornet Shins, having been pulled off by the horse of Cornet Waddle, returned to his rooms time enough for dinner, where he got finely roasted. Cornet

Waddle kept his bed until he was sufficiently recovered to throw off the saddlebags, and put on the knapsack. Oh! poor Ensign Waddle!

A SINGLE BOTTLE OF WINE.

MANY years ago a Mr. Halket, a most respectable but eccentric personage, was Grammar schoolmaster at St. Andrew's. During one of Lord Kinnoul's (the Chancellor) visits to the university, Mr. Halket invited a party of the professors and others, with his lordship at their head. His lordship offered many excuses for not going, none of which Mr. H. would accept : so, at length, he fairly told him, as they were on the best terms, that he knew his circumstances would not admit of such an entertainment as his

hospitable disposition would induce him to give; but that he would be of the party provided they were not allowed to drink more than one bottle of wine among them. This was agreed to after much discussion, being the only terms on which Mr. Halket could obtain his lordship's attendance. The guests came, and dinner was got over; when Lord Kinnoul reminded his host of the one bottle and no more. The servants upon this were summoned to bring in the bottle, when in came Jenny and in came Kirsty, bearing between them one bottle to be sure, but that large enough for even the Senatus Academicus with the chancellor at their head. carboy! (the large globular green glass bottle in which bleachers keep the sul phuric acid), containing about ten Scotch gallons of excellent old port!

JOHN GILPIN.

A

Henderson, the actor, in his public readings, first brought into notice the humorous tale of John Gilpin, which he recited with such spirit and effect, that it drew public attention to the poems of Cowper in general, which, excellent as they are, particularly "the Task," were but little known at the time, though they are now so justly in universal estimation.

SLIGHT MISTAKE.

Colonel Kemyss, of the fortieth regiment, was remarkable for the studied pomposity of his diction. One day, observing that a careless man in the ranks had a particularly dirty face, which appeared not to have been washed for a twelvemonth, he was exceedingly indignant at so gross a violation of military propriety. "Take him," said he, to the corporal, who was an Irishman; "take the man, and lave him in the waters of the Guadiana." After some time the corporal returned. "What have you done with the man I sent with you?" inquired the colonel. Up flew the corporal's right hand across the peak of his cap: and plase y'r honnur, and didn't y'r honnur tell me to lave him in the river; and sure enough I left him in the river, and there he is now, according to y'r honnur's orders." The bystanders, and even the colonel himself, could hardly repress a smile at the mistake of the corporal, who looked innocence itself, and wondered what there could be to laugh at.

PREJUDICE.

"Sure

"When we begin to form a better opinion of one against whom we had conceived a strong prejudice, we seem to discover in every featnre, in his voice and manner, fresh marks of good disposition, to which we were before strangers.

Maître Thibault Gaulmin was a missalilluminator, dwelling at the sign of the Grand Saint Nicholas in the Rue des Ecrivains. When, at the beginning of the year 1416, he established himself in this shop, which he vacated only for another and a better world, folk ran from all quarters of Paris, from the porte-auxPeintres even to the porte-de-Bucy, to admire the splendid sign that he himself had so freshly painted. The hand of a skilful illuminator was at once recognised in the radiant glory with which St. Nicholas was crowned, and in the glittering cross held by his left hand, whilst with the right he bestowed his blessing upon three children, with hair so light and beauteous flowing around their rosy features, that every great lady at a glance conceived the desire of having a missal illuminated by Maître Gaulmin: it was

the handsomest marriage-present that could be made, the prettiest fête-day gift, the most elegant gage d' amitié to present at the hôtel Saint Paul, or to grace the bower of Madame Isabeau.

Maître Thibault loved his art; of which the perfection he had acquired in it was a proof. He delivered himself up to it with ardour, with devotion, and the word is not altogether misplaced here; for the exercise of his craft was really a work of piety to him. It was a frequent remark of his, that it seemed to him as if he were entering a church when he began to illuminate a missal, and aptly compared his art to that of a glass-stainer, who covered with resplendent emblazonries the windows of St. Jacques-la-Boucherie, his parish church: when the sun shone upon their vivid colours there streamed over the altar, the pillars, the marble pavement, a daylight so deliciously tinted, a blue so celestial, a carnation so delicate, that Maître Gaulmin could only compare it to the reflection of his flower and foliage work, of his interlacements and illuminations of azure and vermilion upon the white