was equal to that of the tribe of bakers-whether there was more sense in the Carpenter's Company than in the Mercer's-or whether the aggregate of soul in a troop of infantry was equal to the aggregate in a band of policemen. Yet, these are attempts to compare beings of the same sex-of similar physical organizationliving in similar circumstances--and for the most part, exposed to similar influences; and still it fails. But again, it has been argued on the other side that the mind of woman is distinct in character, in scope, in tendency, from that of man. I am at liberty to adopt this argument, and, in doing so, I establish my own position upon the basis furnished by those gentlemen who maintain the contrary opinion. For if this distinction really exists, it has become not merely unfair-not merely difficult-but absolutely impossible to make the comparison at all! What critic would ever dream of comparing Homer's Iliad with Newton's Principia-the mind which produced the one with the intellect which gave birth to the other? Who ever asks whether the author of the Essay on the Human Understanding was inferior in intellect to the author of Roderick Random? Or, is it a fair question for discussion, whether there was an equality of mind between the writer of the Critique upon Pure Reason and the author of the History of Gargantua and Pentagruel? We are conscious of some strange absurdity in such questions, although, let it be remarked, they refer to persons placed on the same terms as to sex, physical powers, &c. If, then, there is a difference between the sexes in respect of education-of natural character of original destination, as we have heard it asserted, I would ask, is it fair-is it reasonable-is it possible to compare them?

This is the only view which I am anxious to submit to the attention of the Class; but I may be allowed to say, that I cannot look at the doctrine of woman's INFERIORITY without great impatience. I object to it as a somewhat invidious conclusion, the possibility of which ought never to be imagined, whilst the diversities of masculine intellect are so great. I object to it as a fanciful speculation, for which, it seems to me, there is neither sanction in reason nor foundation in fact. I protest against it as a relic of barbarism, which ought long ago to have vanished from our sunnier latitude of modern civilization. In the name of mothers, sisters, wives, daughters of those whom we love dearest, and prize most highly-I protest against it! In the name of that humanity whose joys and sorrows, whose hopes and fears, they partake-whose burdens they share, whose pleasures they enhance— I protest against it! In the name of that Power who made them with us-whose image they bear, whose children they are-I protest against it! As an offence against reason as an attack upon our peace-as a subversion of our natural relations as a calumny against our dearest friends-as a contemptuous depreciation of our Creator's best gifts-I protest against it! (Loud and long-continued cheering.)

Mr. JACKSON entirely agreed with the last speaker, that the question was a most improper one; and he would therefore move the adjournment of the debate sine die. (Loud cries of " Oh, oh !")

This motion being decided to be irregular,

Mr. PORTER rose to reply. He warmly vindicated the introduction of the question, and said, that the brilliant debate the Class had witnessed fully justified its discussion. He then proceeded to comment, with much spirit, upon the speeches of his opponents, respectively_analyzing and replying to the remarks of Mr. JAMES SMITH, Mr. MARCH, Mr. LLOYD, and Mr. F. DE YRIGOYTI, displaying considerable humour and force of expression. He also noticed the speech of Mr. HARGREAVES, which he characterized as a masterly effort, and as one of which the other side had great reason to boast. Mr. PORTER concluded by thanking the meeting for the courtesy with which they had listened to him, and committing his question to the right-thinking of the Class. (Loud cheers.)

The Chairman (Mr. W. S. HINTON, Jun.) then put the question; but on the show of hands the numbers were so equal that he could not decide. On a second show of hands, however, he declared the affirmative of the question to be carried by a majority of 4.

This decision was received with loud applause, and the meeting dissolved.

"Ha! does the old man scorn thee then,

Thou basest, wiliest, worst of men."-SIR W. SCOTT.

WHEN an active and energetic mind is bent upon a certain course, it is surprising how frequently the most common place events are turned to account, and the most insignificant personages made of importance, in the attainment of a favourite object. This was eminently the case with Wyliehart. No circumstance was too trivial, no individual too obscure, to be pressed into his service, if it appeared at all possible" to make anything of them ;" and with these feelings in his mind, and with the determination to be affected as little as possible by the shadows of passing events, he bent his steps towards the house of Mr. Job Popkins, the beadle of the church in which he had taken sittings.

"Now Mr. Popkins," said he, holding out his hand in a familiar manner, as that worthy ushered him into his little parlour, "I have somewhat against thee, Popkins."

"Well, Sir, what is it?" said the little fat beadle, rubbing his little fat hands, for Mr. Popkins was short in stature, albeit not wanting of the dignity of rotundity.

Why, I gave you five-shillings several months ago, you rogue, and I begin to think I made a bad bargain of it!"

"No Šir, excuse me, I dont think you have," said Mr. Popkins, smiling and bowing; "I am sure you have had good interest for your investment."

"How so? how do you make that out?"

"In this way, Sir," said the beadle, clearing his throat, and marching across the room with a slow and measured tread, throwing up his head, to make the most of his height, and holding one little red hand forward, as though grasping a wand. This was too much for Wyliehart's gravity, and he burst into a roar of laughter, in which he was heartily joined by the merry beadle.

"Upon my life," said Wyliehart; "it may be all very true, but I can't see how all that pantomimic exhibition is to pay the interest of my invested capital, as you call it."

"Lor, Sir, how dull some people are," said he; "it always spoils a joke to my mind to explain it. Why isn't that the way I walk before you at church all along the aisle, as slow as possible, till I open your pew-door very wide, and shut it with a great noise?" and the little beadle rolled his eyes towards his auditor, to mark the effect

VOL. I.

Y

of his speech. But all was at present a blank, for Wyliehart could not yet see the drift of the communication.

"Still at sea, Popkins," said he; "how can that do me any good?"

say

"Goodness me, Sir, I thought you were sharper; I did, upon my word, Sir. Why isn't that the very thing that makes people stare at you, and 'Who's that?' and, then, don't people answer and say it's Mr. Wyliehart, the doctor;' and isn't that as good as an advertisement?" and the little beadle thrust his head forward and opened his eyes as wide as possible.

"Well," said Wyliehart; "that's a good idea-very good-but you see five-shillings is too much for that. Now I tell you what it is, Popkins, if you don't get me a good case of fits or fainting before long, I shall make you refund it!" Popkins winked, pointed into his mouth, crossed his hands behind him, and muttered something about getting butter out of a dog's throat.

"Well you are a comical dog," said Wyliehart, laughing; but you are not going to fun me out of my money.'

"Now, really Sir," said Popkins; "it's too bad; it is upon my word, Sir. You don't expect me to make the fits for you, sure-ly, and you know we don't have them this cold weather at our church. There's no pretence now for the girls to faint, they can't say it was the heat or the crowd."

"No, that's true, the congregation has fallen off very much lately, I think I shall look out for another church."

"No, Sir, now don't do that, it's too bad; it is upon my word, Sir. I shall lose all the five-shillings that you are going to give me, and have nobody to call to the fits except that 'ong-faced Mr. Hamilton. Now, look here, Mr. Wyliehart, can't I do anything in the way of fetching you out of church in a great hurry?

No, Popkins, it won't do-dreadful stale trick, that everybody laughs at it."

There you go again. Why that's the very reason you may do it. Wouldn't everybody say you really must be wanted, because nobody would do such a stale trick."

"Good again, Popkins, I didn't think you had so much in you. I will be called out next Sunday."

"Well, but Sir, about the fits. I know I am doing myself an injury in what I am going to say, but we've never had a fit in our church, never since I've been there, that's nine year come Midsum

mer."

"Why how is that, Popkins? Come you're a sensible man, tell us how it is."

"Why to my mind its this," said he, with a serio-comic expression of countenance; I don't know a church where they do have'em. It's in chapels, and theatres, and them hot places where the fits are. I went once to-aye, Mr. Wyliehart that's the idea for you, it's worth a guinea, it is upon my word, Sir, and he patted his pockets in a patronizing kind of way, as if asking them playfully how they should like so valuable a deposit.

"It's of no use, Popkins, I tell you, not another sixpence will you get out of me unless you earn it first."

"Well then here it is, Sir, but it's too bad, it is upon my word, Sir," and he shook his head and sighed. Then as if suddenly revived, he opened his eyes, drew in a long, very long breath, advanced slowly towards his auditor, laid his fat little hand upon Wyliehart's shoulder and said in a determined tone of voice, " Mr. Wyliehart you must go to Irving's!" The light shot at once into the young surgeon's mind, he grasped the idea in a moment-and a fine idea it was. If report spoke truly, the chapel occupied by the Rev. Edward Irving and his congregation was frequently the scene of the most intense and violent excitement. Young females of hysterical and nervous temperaments, were so wrought upon on these occasions, as to be, in some instances, thrown into convulsions of a terrific description, while others would rise into a species of temporary insanity, and utter the most unintelligible jargon, interspersed with long and fearful screams. Yes, he would most assuredly go to Irving's. While these thoughts were passing through his mind with his gaze fixed on vacancy, Mr. Popkins was eyeing him with the greatest anxiety, and wondering why he did not express his astonishment at the goodness of the idea. At length he said, "Well, Mr. Wyliehart, what do you think of that ?"

66 I don't see a great deal in it myself," said he, with affected indifference; "the idea is not worth much; but call at my house, Popkins, in a day or two, and we'll talk matters over."

fist

"Oh," said the beadle, "I expected a handsome present."

"What for! No, no, Popkins, it won't do, indeed; you'd fleece me, you would, you rogue;" and impressing the size and shape of his upon the fifth rib of the worthy little beadle, he glided gaily from the room, and finally from the house. Popkins gently closed the door after him, saying, "There goes the stingyest, meanest, cunningest" and some more words not at all proper for a beadle to utter" rogue that ever tried to steal a man's ideas. I wonder what his mother fed him on !" The last sentence was pronounced in a tone of the most ineffable scorn. Mr. Popkins was certainly in a passion, but then he considered himself wronged and robbed, without the power to help himself, or even to call after the robber, "stop thief." Yet Mr. Popkins was not passionate man; even his own wife bore testimony to this fact, for she, tall, raw-boned creature, that she was, would lecture him by the hour together; while he, poor soul! made no reply, but sat smoking his pipe and sipping his gin-and-water, as though it was nothing but the wind blowing about his ears. And then the little boys might stand within a dozen yards of the church-gate, to see Sir Charles Bagshot's ladies alight from their carriage, without Mr. Popkins even shaking his stick at them, although he was in his silver-laced livery suit, and with his cocked hat in his hand. Then he did not detest charity-boys, as all other beadles do. You never heard of Mr. Popkins peeping round a corner to catch one of them alone, and then thrashing him for nothing on earth but because he was a charity-boy. No, Mr. Popkins used to reason thus: "These young varmint will one day become grown up men; if I whallop them while the 're young 'uns they won't forget it afterwards. Goodness knows what some of them may rise to; and then, perhaps, they won't forget the good-natured beadle." Mr. Popkins was not a passionate man-he was a reasonable creature, and a philosopher.

Y 2

When Wyliehart reached his home he found a letter waiting his arrival. No doubt Harry Wilde had twisted and turned it, and bent it this way and that, and peeped into it, and held it up to the light — for there was a very suspicious look about it—and it was, moreover, covered with marks of little dirty fingers.

"Who has been prying into this?" said Wyliehart, as he took up the letter; but recollecting that he had no positive proof that any one had, and besides, being in a great hurry to read its contents, he slamm'd the surgery door after him, and shut himself up in his little back parlour.

"Who's been prying into this!" repeated Master Wilde, with a sneer, Why, I have, if it's any consolation to you to know; and what's more, I only wish I could have read it. There's something in the wind, I know; but I'll find it out, see if I don't ;" and he began to whistle desperately.

Wyliehart knew the crest on the seal of the letter, and gave a tolerable guess at its contents; yet his hand trembled more than usually as he opened it and read the following:

"SIR,---I inclose the letter you sent me yesterday: this is my only answer; and I beg you to consider it final."

"G. F. SANDON."

"The contemptuous old fool!" exclaimed Wyliehart, and he crumpled up the letters, thrust them nervously into his pocket, and returned to the surgery.

"I'll tell you what it is, Master Henry," said he, looking very fierce towards that unoffending young person, "I'll not have you idling away your time in this manner. Why don't you find something to do?"

Master Wilde turned towards his governor, with a gentle and innocent expression of countenance-" Please, Sir," said he, "why don't you set me something to do?"

"Set you something to do, Sir! what do you mean? Have I not told you, over and over again, that when you are not otherwise engaged, you should dust the bottles and clean out the drawers, and polish up the windows; yet there you stand, with your hands stuck down into the bottom of your pockets, whistling like a perfect maniac. I don't like the look of it, Sir; it's a very idle habit."

"Oh, but I'm tired of doing nothing but dusting. Sir, if you please, perhaps you'll have the kindness to give me something to doa little more professional."

"Professional!-what! a lad like you? No, Henry Wilde, while you show the propensities you do the love of mischief and idle habits-it is not likely you will apply your mind to the abstrusities of medical science. When you learn to value its advantages, I may, perhaps, allow you the use of my library. At present you have not sufficient application."

"Why, Sir, the books you lent me I read completely through." "No wonder! Gulliver's Travels and Don Quixote. No wonder you read them through."

"They are the only books you ever lent me, Sir;" and he turned away, opened and shut a drawer with great violence, and, notwithstanding the presence of his master, began whistling, as that master truly described it, like a "perfect maniac."