as a desert, and as vast as an antre-and thus on we go, alternately labouring like an ant, and relaxing, in the sunny air, like a dragon-fly, enamoured of extremes-impatient only of mediocrity, leading the life of a comet one day, of a planet the next, and of a fixed star, perhaps, the third, never wearied of shining, yet avoiding all sameness even in our lustre—our motions often eccentric, no doubt, and irregular; but any thing, as you know, better than standing still,-the only fault we ever had to find with the Sun, but which we are happy now to understand cannot fairly be laid to his charge, as our whole solar system-nay, fixed stars and all, do, we are credibly informed, keep "moving altogether, if they move at all;" and, although they journey fast, and have been journeying long, have a far way before them yet stretching untravelled through the Universe.

The Old Lady is clear for a great deal of exercise, and, of course, fresh air. Fresh air has been exhausted by so many writers, that we shall confine our few concluding remarks to exercise alone. "Leaping," she informs us, "among the ancients, was confined to distance-but in modern times extended also to height."—Strange that the ancients did not discover high leaping!"One Ireland, a native of Yorkshire, in the eighteenth year of his age, by a fair spring, without any assistance, trick, or deception, leaped over nine horses, standing side by side-and a man seated on the middle horse." He also, according to this old woman, "jumped over a garter held fourteen feet high!!!" Now, neither Ireland, nor any other man on record, ever leapt seven feet in height without a spring-board, and none but a fool would talk of fourteen. The nine horses were thin narrow animals-not fairly placed-and Ireland leapt from a spring-board-two feet above the level on which they stood. It was a great leap for Ireland was the prince of leapers,-but not more than twenty-three feet on level ground-which we ourselves have done-on level ground or nearly so-in presence of a thousand spectators. That by the way; but far leaping is to people in general an unsafe exertion—as all intense exertions must be—and ought to be taken in moderation. Nor should any man leap at all after five-and-twenty. It is only for light elastic lads to leap more than twice their own length. Elderly gentlemen, from twenty-five to thirty, should become archers-and old men of

forty and upwards, golfers. Indeed, various Golf-clubs-here and at St Andrews-are most amiable associations of old men. Such spindleshanks you may nowhere else see as on those links-and even Galen and Cornaro themselves, and old Admiral Henry, would look juvenile among the shadows slowly moving from Tee to Tee.

The Old Lady likewise approves of walking, which she tells us is of two kinds, "either on plain ground, or where there are ascents." But "walking against a high wind is very severe exercise, and not to be recommended." Persons who are kept much within doors, "ought as much as possible to accustom themselves to be walking about, even in their own houses." No doubt they have a right to do so if they choose, and do not occupy an upper flat. But stair-walkers with creaking shoes must be disagreeable husbands and fathers. She advises also to change the place where we walk, "for the same place constantly gone over, may excite as many disagreeable and painful sensations as the closet or the study." An agreeable companion, too, she has discovered, contributes much to serenity of mind; but unless the mode of walk is similar, as well as the taste and character congenial, it is better to walk alone-as either the one or the other of the two companions might be subjected to some constraint;" and, finally, she says, that "to read during a walk is an improper action, highly detrimental to the eyes, and destroys almost all the good effects that can be derived from the exercise."

Riding, or, as the old lady has it, riding on horseback, is next strenuously recommended to those who earnestly desire to "live long and comfortably;" but there is not a word dropt about Fox-hunting, almost the only kind of riding, besides Racing, that in our opinion deserves the name. O Lord preserve us! of all amusements, riding on horseback along the highroad by oneself, especially in miry weather, is the most deplorable! We seriously pity every man who keeps a horse -standing at livery. The animal must be ridden-regularly too-if you do not wish him to break your neck. You come at last to be afraid to look out of the window, in case he should be there-pacing up and down the street-with the saddle all wet probably-and the long dangling stirrups, with their vacant irons, summoning you to come down, and take a gallop through the glaur. The brute often falls unaccount

ably lame-first in one foot, and then in another—giving you the air of a cadger-caves with his head, though the frost has killed all the flies long ago-keeps starting, boggling, and stumbling, every ten yards-and, once a-month at the least, comes down on his nose, without ever so much as once touching the ground with his knees, which nevertheless have been broken long ago, while the hair, having grown on white, gives them the appearance of being padded. We could not have heart to wish our worst enemy to keep a horse through the winter in a town. Then, what riders are our Edinburgh youth! It is the fashion now to take lessons—and every prig of an apprentice you see on horseback seems to have two cork legs. Out they jut in one immovable position—just as if the ostler had hoisted the young adventurer on, and then screwed his cork legs to the sticking-place-with a positive injunction not to attempt shifting them till they come home and have themselves dismounted. They seem to have no joints-either at hip, knee, or ankle-and then look at the way they hold the bridle! That is riding à la militaire! The quill-driver thinks himself a cavalry officer-and has the audacity to ride past Jock's Lodge. This Pain is expensive-and purchased Pain is by idiots for a while thought Pleasure. But we have an article on "Riding" lying by us-which shall be forthcoming in an early Number-by a gentleman lineally descended from John Gilpin.

Grannum next addresses herself, on the subject of Exercise, exclusively to men of letters-and we cannot help thinking has ourselves more particularly in her eye, which she cocks leeringly at Old Christopher. She recommends us to have "dumb-bells and a couple of flesh-brushes always at hand, that we may steal a few moments from our studies to exercise the superior extremities with the former, and the inferior limbs and the head and neck with the latter." Dumb-bells we have never used since Jack Thurtell attempted to murder his friend Wood with a pair-and as for flesh-brushes, why, our skin is as clear as amber, and our flesh as firm as marble. She tells us, further, "to use the flesh-brush for fifteen or twenty minutes regularly every morning on first getting out of bed-and to pursue the same practice also at night." this rate, the flesh-brush would never be out of our hands— and we should be afraid of "establishing a Raw." Let mangy

At

and scurvy people scrub their superior and inferior extremities with the flesh-brush, to their own and the Old Lady's heart's content. But commend us to a good stiff, hard, rough, yarn towel that makes our body blush like a Peony, and glow like a Furnace.

Literary men are also told "for a change to run briskly up and down stairs several times, or to use the shuttlecock,' "or fight with their own shadow,"-an exercise described, it seems, by Addison in one of his Spectators. When the worst has come to the worst, we shall fight with our own shadow; -but that will not be till not a blockhead is left on the face of the whole earth for us to bastinado-not till we observe that we are positively the Last Man, shall we have recourse to that recreation.

We are finally told to read aloud and loudly, "out of any work before us"-"to promote pulmonary circulation, and strengthen the digestive organs." We know a much better exercise of the lungs than that, and one we frequently practise. It is to thrust our head and shoulders out of the window, and imagining that we see a scoundrel stealing apples in the orchard, or carrying off a how-towdy, to roar out upon him as if it were Stentor blowing a great brazen trumpet, "Who are you-you rascal-stand still or I will blow you to atoms with this blunderbuss !" The thief takes to his heels, and having got a hundred yards farther off, you must intensify your roar into a Briareus-even unto the third remove- -and then the chance is, that some decent citizen heaves in sight, who, terrified out of his seven senses, falls head-over-heels into the kennel-when you, still anxious "to promote pulmonary circulation and strengthen your digestive organs," burst out into a guffaw that startles the Castle rock-and then, letting down the lattice, return to your article, which, like the haggis of the Director-General, is indeed a Roarer.

Cetera desunt.

ON EARLY RISING.

IN A LETTER TO MR NORTH.

[DECEMBER 1821 1

MR NORTH,

I HOPE that you are not an early riser. If you are, throw this letter into the fire-if not, insert it. But I beg your pardon, it is impossible that you can be an early riser; and, if I thought so, I must be the most impertinent man in the world; whereas, it is universally known that I am politeness and urbanity themselves. Well then, pray what is this virtue of early rising, that one hears so much about? Let us consider it, in the first place, according to the seasons of the year-secondly, according to people's profession-and thirdly, according to their character.

Let us begin with Spring-say the month of March. You rise early in the month of March, about five o'clock. It is somewhat darkish-at least gloomyish-dampish-rawishcoldish-icyish-snowyish. You rub your eyes and look about for your breeches. You find them, and after hopping about on one leg for about five minutes, you get them on. It would be absurd to use a light during that season of the year, at such an advanced hour as five minutes past five, so you attempt to shave by the spring-dawn. If your nose escapes, you are a lucky man; but dim as it is, you can see the blood trickling down in a hundred streams from your gashed and mutilated chin. I will leave your imagination to conjecture what sort of neckcloth will adorn your gullet, tied under such circumstances. However, grant the possibility of your being dressed-and down you come, not to the parlour, or your study -for you would not be so barbarous-but to enjoy the beauty of the morning, as Mr Leigh Hunt would say, "out of doors." The moment you pop your phiz one inch beyond the front