There will be an end to the Finish, and no gentle"who is a gentleman," will "go with his eye out," or think of singing "all round his hat," man, instead of a table. No Paul Pry will seek to worm out our family concerns, by asking a gentleman who has arrived at years of discretion "whether his mother knows he's out?" much less think of questioning his domestic expediences by enquiring "whether his mother has sold her mangle ?" Slang will be as scarce as black-letter, and become a dead-letter in decent society. Then the Inns of Court will be quite out-of practice. Lawyers will keep no terms with their clients; their deeds will be invalid, and themselves invalided—entirely out of office, and all their tin canisters will go to the dogs, while their dirty deeds will be turned inside out, and be reduced to threadpapers. Then will Lincoln's Inn change its sombre hue to Lincoln green. There will be no conveyancers, i. e. no thieves, no pickpockets. No private estates-for all property will be in common. Hence merchants will keep no ledgersbankers no cheques. We shall have no debts; no Christmas-bills to pay; no Duns; no Waits at our doors!" think of that Master Brooke." But, hold! I must stop short of what's to come, lest my Readers exclaim, with Sheridan's sapient Governor "The Spanish fleet thou canst not see- Certes, these desiderata cannot be at once brought to bear. Rome, we are told, was not built in one day, and, indeed the fact seems borne out by probability; neither can every headlong delinquent of the present time expect to be all at once converted into a deliberate madman, let him have his wits ever so much about him; No; Time-that whirligig, which, like the ancient figure in the good old contre danse, turns all round in its course, will have its circuitous and wilful way. Poco e poco-little by little-step by step-by degrees - great heights must be attained, and it is for us of the present day to work manfully up the steep and make it level and easy for those who come after. We must sow, that others may reap; delve; weed; tear up the tares that have choked our own paths, and leave them those of pleasantness to our successors. From individual care will ensue universal ease, and present toil lay the germ of henceforth rest. But the French proverb discreetly warns us that "Le secret d'ennuyer est celui de tout dire." Taking the hint, I shall briefly conclude that we live in "a Mad World my Masters," peopled with Monomaniacs, who are all entitled equally to a share in public sympathy. We are each insane upon some point or other, and deluded by some object over which, in the pursuit, we are apt to stumble, and sometimes fall. It is a mental intoxication which affects different men according to their differing constitutions. It is the strength of the weak, and the weakness of the strong. It supports some and enfeebles others; yet none walk straight or securely under its influence at all times; each seeks a point of support on which to lean with safety; and while "One reels to this, another to that wall; X MURDER AND MYSTERY. AN INCIDENT. "Let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work, To know it further."-Macbeth. WITH a rashness that partook of recent fever's wild delirium, I rushed from the scene which had closed upon my happiness; for I had a pride in grief that urged me to shun the observation of those who were the authors of it, and my wounded spirit longed to "flee away and be at rest." But where might rest be found to a heart pierced and lacerated like mine? Reason, it was true, had not altogether abdicated her throne; but she kept her uncertain tenure with little more power than to brood sullenly over the ravages made in her empire by an insidious and cruel foe. I quitted England. "I will seek elsewhere," I exclaimed, as I hurried onward, "the peace I have lost. Cheerfulness may at least be once more mine; I shall find it on the favoured soil wherein that blessing has spontaneous growth, and distils her precious balm on all who need its benefits. I will profit by its healing efficacy." Alas! how soon I discovered the fallacy of my aim! I found myself, for the first time, in Paris; alone -socially alone-with a body worn and debilitated by suffering, and a mind utterly incompetent to any healthful exercise. It followed that, as soon as the haste and excitement of my journey were past, I became prostrate in spirit, passive in action, and so abjectly wedded to my melancholy, as to render all the gay surroundings I had sought, indifferent-nay, hateful—to my feelings. In effect, I was unbenevolent. The enjoyment of others, heretofore a portion of my own to witness, seemed impertinent and unfeeling to an unjoyous spirit; and I was disgusted with every thing that did not tend to feed and nourish my despondency. Wherefore my sadness remained, unmitigated-unmitigable. I sought not, thought not of, alleviation to feelings that promised to make up the whole sum of my future existence; and I wandered about in the loneliness I had mentally made the condition of my flight, isolated among thousands of my fellowcreatures. Even the faithful attendant, who had grown with my growth, had been denied to be taker of my self-imposed exile;-even he, though par |