sort of rapture-a laboured demonstration of joy at the sight of the young leaves, and the resuscitation of nature from her wintry desolation. I watch the flowers in my garden from my window, and mark them gradually unfold themselves-I see throughout creation a memento of golden times, and mark with melancholy feelings the beautiful sunsets of the season. I stand at my door and inhale the breeze after a genial shower, and feel it penetrate to the very springs of life and revivify all of my frame that time has not indurated against its influence. Nature was perhaps never dearer to me. I still pluck the early primrose, and listen to the bird's matin song, as the sun begins to march up the sky-for I have ever been an early riser. He who is not, knows but half of nature. At such moments I call up long-buried sensations. Youth and love mingle in my reminiscences, for a moment, with the present time. I fancy the broken images of the past are present realities, stretch my hand to grasp them, and discover I am a weak old man, whose last Spring will shortly take wing after departed Youth and Love.

J.

PETER PINDARICS.

Patent Brown-Stout.

A Brewer in a country town

Had got a monstrous reputation;
No other beer but his went down.
The hosts of the surrounding station,
Carving his name upon their mugs,

And painting it on every shutter;

And though some envious folks would utter

Hints, that its flavour came from drugs,

Others maintained 'twas no such matter,

But owing to his monstrous vat,

At least as corpulent as that

At Heidelberg

and some said fatter.

His foreman was a lusty black,

An honest fellow;

But one who had an ugly knack
Of tasting samples as he brewed,

Till he was stupified and mellow.
One day in this topheavy mood,

Having to cross the vat aforesaid,
(Just then with boiling beer supplied,)
O'ercome with giddiness and qualms he
Reel'd-fell in-and nothing more said,
But in his favourite liquor died,

Like Clarence in his butt of Malmsey.

In all directions round about

The negro absentee was sought,
But as no human noddle thought

That our fat Black was now Brown Stout,
They settled that the rogue had left
The place for debt, or crime, or theft.
Meanwhile the beer was day by day
Drawn into casks and sent away,

Until the lees flow'd thick and thicker,
When, lo! outstretched upon the ground,
Once more their missing friend they found,
As they had often done-in liquor.
See, cried his moralizing master,

I always knew the fellow drank hard,
And prophesied some sad disaster;
His fate should other tipplers strike,
Poor Mungo! there he welters, like
A toast at bottom of a tankard!
Next morn a publican, whose tap
Had help'd to drain the vat so dry,
Not having heard of the mishap,
Came to demand a fresh supply,
Protesting loudly that the last
All previous specimens surpass'd,
Possessing a much richer gusto
Than formerly it ever used to,
And begging, as a special favour,
Some more of the exact same flavour.

Zounds! cried the Brewer, that's a task
More difficult to grant than ask.—

Most gladly would I give the smack
Of the last beer to the ensuing,

But where am I to find a Black,

And boil him down at every brewing?

York Kidney Potatoes.

ONE Farmer Giles, an honest clown,
From Peterborough had occasion

To travel up to London town

About the death of a relation,

And wrote, his purpose to explain,
To cousin Jos. in Martin's-lane;

Who quickly sent him such an answer as
Might best determine him to dwell

At the Blue Boar-the Cross-the Bell,
Or some one of the caravanseras
To which the various coaches went,
All which, he said, were excellent.
Quoth Giles, "I think it rather odd he
Should write me thus, when I have read
That London hosts will steal at dead
Of night to stab you in your bed,
Pocket your purse, and sell your body,-
To 'scape from which unpleasant process
I'll drive at once to cousin Jos's.

Now cousin Jos. (whose name was Spriggs)
Was one of those punctilious prigs

Who reverence the comme il faut ;

Who deem it criminal to vary

From modes prescribed, and thus "monstrari
Pretereuntium digito."

Conceive him writhing down the Strand
With a live rustic in his hand,

At once the gaper and gapee,

And pity his unhappy plight

Condemn'd, when tête-à-tête at night,
To talk of hogs, nor deem it right
To show his horrible ennui.
Jos. was of learned notoriety,

One of the male blue-stocking clan,
Was register'd of each Society,
Royal and Antiquarian ;

Took in the Scientific Journal,

And wrote for Mr. Urban's Mag. (For fear its liveliness should flag)

A thermometrical diurnal,

With statements of old tombs and churches,
And such unreadable researches.

Wearied to death one Thursday night,

With hearing our Northampton wight

Prose about crops, and farms, and dairies,
Spriggs cried-A truce to corn and hay,-
Somerset house is no great way,

We'll go and see the Antiquaries."

"And what are they?" enquired his guest;
"Why, Sir," said Jos. somewhat distress'd
To answer his interrogator,—
"They are a sort-a sort-a kind
Of commentators upon Nature"-
"What, common 'tatoes!" Giles rejoin'd,
His fist upon the table dashing,

"Take my advice-don't purchase one,
Not even at a groat a ton,-

None but York kidneys does for mashing."

H.

"Love your neighbour, but don't pull down your own hedge."

PROVERBS.

FIGARO has remarked, that it is not necessary to possess a thing in order to talk of it; and this I suppose is the reason why so much has been said of friendship. Wits, poets, philosophers, and parsons have written "about it and about it," in all sorts of ways, ethically, satirically, farcically, sententiously, religiously, politico-œconomically, critically, and hypocritically; and yet, as some think, it still remains to be proved whether the thing itself be a reality, or only a philosophical whimsey, a "dagger of the mind," or, in plain English, an absolute nonentity. Judge Hales, I believe it was, considered witchcraft as proved by the fact that laws were made concerning it; and such a reasoner might be tempted to take friendship for granted, on the mere ground that poets have painted it. But then, on the other hand, if friendship really exists, some one must have met with it, some one must have been able to speak of it, not on hearsay, which, you know, is not admissible evidence, but from autopsia, or actual inspection; and in failure of this, the axiom of" de non apparentibus," must be taken as conclusive against it.

In the present state of the question, however, though I have my own opinion, I should hold myself very blameable to dogmatize either pro or con, or to knock my adversary flat, in failure of good argument, with a quicunque vult, for not being as much a philo, or a misophiliac as myself. But thus far all are agreed, that if there is, or ever was a parte reali, any such feeling, affection, passion, disease, or hallucination as friendship in existence, it is, and always has been, at least as rare as a black swan, or a phoenix, a sea snake, a craken, a mermaid, a Queen Anne's farthing, or an "honest attorney."

"Rien n'est plus commun que ce nom,

Rien n'est plus rare que la chose."

LA FONTAINE.

It cannot therefore, be a matter of surprise, that, like all our other hypotheses, our theories on friendship are mere moonshine. To hear the fellows talk, indeed, you would imagine that they were in full possession of their subject; had touched it, eyed it, tasted it, experimented upon it in all sorts of ways;-in short, were as familiar with all its modifications, attributes, and accidents, as Jack Ketch with a felon's neck, or a Methodist parson with the Devil,-and familiarity can go no farther. But what is the result of all this, I beseech you?-in the words of the strolling actress, "chaise horse (chaos) is come again."— Inconsistency and contradiction form the sum total of our knowledge on the matter: and, as in all other instances of overburthened science, where authority passes for argument, and hard words for facts, nothing useful can be effected, till the rubbish is cleared away, and a fair ground made for the re-construction of a newer and better edifice.

To take a few examples of error at hazard;—what axiom is more confidently advanced than that amicus certus in re incerta cernitur, and what more practically false? Does not all experience shew that this is precisely the circumstance under which a true friend is never found? "Viri infortunati, procul amici," is a known proverb, and decisive on the subject. All the world indeed acknowledges, that the prosperous and the wealthy alone have friends, and that

"Raise but the beggar and denude the lord;

The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.”-

Again, that Kings rarely know the pleasures of friendship, is another mistake. I say nothing of Pylades and Orestes, because (as the sailor said on another occasion) the thing happened in a far distant country and a long time ago, and therefore perhaps it is not true. But, even in our own memory, the whole British nation was divided between "the King's friends" and "the Prince's friends;" and, which comes to the same thing, "the Minister's friends" are to this day a very bustling, active set of men, whose friendship will never be found wanting, as long as the minister is minister. But we know by the concurrent testimony of many competent witnesses, that ministerial bounty has no bounds; and that a true friend of a minister, "though he got all Ireland from the premier for his estate, would still ask for the Isle of Man for a cabbage-garden."

Voltaire has somewhere said that "les hommes vertueux ont seuls des amis ;" and Isocrates, if he affirms the contrary, admits that the friendships of the wicked have no long duration. But this is an evident mis

take; else how could "usque ad aras" ever have become a proverb? for good men's friendships would not require such a stretch of affection. Besides, if the prosperous alone have friends, these are very rarely to be found among the good. Do we not likewise hear of "the friends of Radical reform," and "the friends of Opposition ?" yet if you will believe the Courier and the John Bull, these personages are no better than they should be; while, on the other hand, the Holy Alliance, which is religion, goodness, and paternity personified, has hardly a friend left, who is not well paid for his attachment.

:

La Rochefoucauld, who was a great dogmatizer in this matter, (dogmatism, indeed, is of the very essence of your makers of aphorisms,) says that friendship is nothing but "un ménagement réciproque d'intérêts, un échange de bons offices, ce n'est, enfin, qu'un commerce, où l'amour propre se propose toujours quelque chose à gagner" and in this opinion Tacitus agrees, for he deems an act of bankruptcy fatal to the commerce. Hence, perhaps, it happens, that though there is no friendship in money matters, there is much of money in friendship; in so far, that the lending a man money is the surest means of losing his friendship. The common opinion derives "amicitia" from "amor." But, according to this commercial system, it should rather "come of" amicior— because people put on and put off their affections as they do their clothes and as on stormy nights men wrap themselves in a great coat, so on ticklish contingencies they endeavour to shelter themselves under a great man. Agreeably with this notion it may be observed, that men are said to contract habits of friendship; and when their habits don't suit they are apt to cut. To this point also tend such expressions as warmth of affection, casting off old acquaintances, and a thorough-stitch friendship. By a similar figure, it may be said of a gamester that "chartis amicitur ineptis"— —or he is wrapped up in cards, and attached to nothing but the four kings. If, however, there be something in this etymology, still friendship belongs to the belly as well as the back. In truth, it has been observed, that all animals are tamed by their stomachs, and why not man with the rest? A dinner of ceremony, consisting of three courses, with removes, a desert, ices, champaigne, hock, and hermitage; given once a week, or a month, if a person can afford it, will accommodate him with as many friends as he pleases.-Accordingly Cicero has " amicitiam alicujus appetere," to have an appetite for a man's acquaintance. If this be so, veritas odium parit" must be translated, "plain cooking is detestable."

"What need," says Shakspeare," we have friends, if we should never have need of them? They were the most needless creatures living, should we never have use of them." This passage is put in the speaker's mouth at the moment of going to table, which shews that the chief use of a friend is, as Nong-tong-paw has it, with him to "breakfast, dine, and sup." Hence the proverb, "salem et mensam ne prætereas," and the inviolable faith of the Arab when he has tasted your salt, or you have partaken of his hospitality. Not only is friendship, or the union of man and man, but charity also, or the attachment of man to his species, very generally subordinate to good living. For (all-religious as we are in these times) a charity dinner helps the poor's funds much better than a charity sermon; and it may reasonably be doubted whether the dignity and authority of churchwardenship