"Think, too, of the multitude more, who, on the strength of a half-hour's acquaintance over a dinner-table, expect to be received as the familiar friends of an editor, if they choose to trouble him with one of their insupportable visits. Oh, my dear sir,-talk of the miseries of authorship! they are nothing to the miseries of editorship! An author may go where he likes, and writes where he likes, but an editor is for ever at work in the same spot, like a squirrel in a cage-or an author in a treadmill."

"A very pretty comparison."

"Very, and then to have to deal with men of the same trade is of itself a misery; to have to judge their work is yet worse, to say nothing of reading it—but if you are an author, and are to judge the work of authors-the most irritable creatures on earth, your misery is complete."

"Upon my word, Mr. C. H., you appear to feel every word you say."

"I do feel every word I say. An author has no bowels for an editor. If the editor is an author, like Mr. Campbell, for example, he is thought to be guided by jealousy whatever he may do, when it is fifty to one, that being aware of what may be said of him by a brother chip, he would go out of his way to speak more favourably of him than he deserved. And if he is not an author-like Mr. Jeffrey, for example--they regard him as not qualified to judge. Write a book yourself, Sir, they say, before you pretend to judge of our books.'

You are making out a good case for the people that I have hitherto regarded as the very drones of literature.'

"And then, my dear Sir-to have to be answerable for the vices and errors, not only of yourself, but of every body who may happen to write for you-"

“And with a perfect knowledge, that if a blunder be made by the author, he will never speak of it, while made by you, he will be sure to proclaim it wherever he goes; and that if by one of your allowed emendations-a very ticklish thing for you to make by the way, if your man be much in favour with the public, or if you are disposed to do more than cross a 1, or dot an i for him-you have got him out of a scrape, or have made him say a very brilliant, a very wise, or a very beautiful thing, which had never entered his head but for you; he will be sure to have the credit of it, and equally sure to drop never a word about your agency; while if you should happen to mistake a favourite word of his, or spoil a joke, or mismate a bad antithesis or two, whether in reading the proof or in spelling the manuscript, you know that if you should live a century, you would never hear the last of it.'

"Preserve me from all editorship!"

"Very well, said I-and then to have to read so much that you have read forty times before, so much that you are pleased with, you know not why-when you come to see the proof-and so much that you are weary of, you know not why, till you are called upon to pay for it. And then, after all, to be pursued by disappointed authors, and bored by successful ones-to say nothing of the neuter people, who are accepted occasionally, just enough to keep them in a state of perpetual bad humour with you; and then to be obliged to say civil things on a bit of paper not five inches square, to every body that you refuse to trade with, lest he may call you out, or attack you in some blackguard paper of the day, or show you up in a book--or throw himself into a horse-pond for your sake-oh, you have no idea, I tell you again, of the miseries of editorship."'

Had we not been already sworn in, these awful revelations would have made us as coy of office as were Prince Leopold and the Duke of Nemours of the "round of sovereignty." But we have "screwed our courage to the stickingplace," and we'll" not fail." Worthy Contributors, you. perceive that the paths of power are overrun with their equitable proportion of thorns. It being our royal purpose, among the first acts of our reign, to elevate you above surrounding contemporaries, so as to render you the envy of all who range themselves under the banners of other potentates, we venture to express a paternal hope that you will demean yourselves as dutiful and loving liegemen, ever piously treasuring in your affectionate memories the fundamental principle of OUR free Constitution, that the KING CAN DO NO WRONG. Thus shall your horn be exalted.

It will afford us sincere pleasure to have frequent opportunity of holding a colloquy with the genius of John Neal. We respect the man for his hearty

identification with his country, and his good-humoured adoption of national distinctions, irritating to minds less confident of their strength. They who would arrive at a satisfactory conception of the bent and force of his talents, must advert to his works. Among British writers none can be pointed out as his model. Diverging from the smooth and crowded highway, he has hewed his solitary track through the untrodden wilderness, and if he sometimes wander in obscurity, or exhibit the waywardness of one who hath chosen to walk apart, he anon bursts through his entanglements, emerges into the farextended prairie, and casting an exulting glance above and around him, displays the high bearing of a Freeman of Nature, standing face to face with the Poet's Queen where she keeps her state, begirt with a body-guard of everlasting oaks, lacqueyed by the winds of heaven, heralded by the thunder-cloud, and piped to repose by the deep bass of the down-dashing cataract.

THE THREE HOMES.

"WHERE is thy home?" I asked a child
Who, in the morning air,

Was twining flowers most sweet and wild

In garlands for her hair;

My home," the happy heart replied,
And smiled in childish glee,

"Is on the sunny mountain side

Where soft winds wander free."

O! blessings fall on artless youth,
And all its rosy hours,

When every word is joy and truth,
And treasures live in flowers!

"Where is thy home?" I asked of one
Who bent with flushing face,

To hear a warrior's tender tone
In the wild wood's secret place;
She spoke not, but her varying cheek
The tale might well impart;

The home of her young spirit meek
Was in a kindred heart.

Ah! souls that well might soar above,
To earth will fondly cling,

And build their hopes on human love,
That light and fragile thing!

"Where is thy home, thou lonely man?"
I asked a pilgrim grey,

Who came, with furrowed brow, and wan,

Slow musing on his way;

He paused, and with a solemn mien

Upturned his holy eyes,

"The land I seek thou ne'er hast seen,

My home is in the skies!"

O! blest thrice blest! the heart must be

To whom such thoughts are given,

That walks from worldly fetters free;
Its only home in heaven!

BIANCA.

NAPOLEON'S TOMB.

BY A VETERAN.

I SPENT all save the dawning of a long day of hard service, far from the din of European strife, under the scorching skies of the East. Even amidst the forests of Nepaul the name of Bonaparte sounded like a spell. While his ambition was condemned, his genius was admired, his misfortunes deplored; often have I wished to encounter him face to face; the closest approach, however, that fortune enabled me to make to him, was by a pilgrimage to his tomb.

When at St. Helena, I started one morning with a small party of brother officers, to survey the spot where the remains of the world's agitator are deposited. The peculiarities of the locality have been laid before the public so often and so amply, on canvass and on paper, that further description is needless. The character of the scene is profound and awful loneliness-a dell girt in by huge naked hills-not an object of vegetable life to relieve the general aspect of desertedness, except the few weeping willows which droop above the grave. The feeling of solitude is heightened by an echo, that responds on the least elevation of the voice. With what singular emotions I took my stand upon the slab, which sheltered the dust of him for whom the crowns, thrones and sceptres, he wrung from their possessors, would of themselves have furnished materials for a monument! There the restless was at rest; there the Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, Grand Master of the Legion of Honour, reposed with almost as little sepulchral pomp as the humble tenant of a country church-yard.

"After life's fitful fever he sleeps well."

I withdrew my foot-removed with my handkerchief the traces it had left upon the stone, and gave a tear to the fate of the exile. I also was a soldier of fortune-our party quitted the place with dejected faces, and scarcely a word was spoken until we reached our quarters.

On the following morning a French frigate arrived from the Isle of Bourbon, having on board a regiment of artillery. The officers solicited and obtained permission to pay a tribute of respect to their old leader's ashes. I accompanied them to the ground, and rarely have I witnessed enthusiasm like theirs. On the way not an eye was dry, and some who had served immediately under "the Emperor," wept aloud. As they drew nearer to the spot, their step became hurried and irregular, but the moment they saw the tomb, they formed two deep, and advanced with uncovered heads, folded arms, and slow and pensive pace. When within five or six yards of their destination, they broke off into single files, and surrounding the grave, at uniform intervals knelt silently down. The commander of the frigate and the others in succession, according to their rank, then kissed the slab; when they arose every lip was fixed, every bosom full.

In a few days subsequently, the officers of both countries met at Soliman's table, and after dinner the first toast proposed by the French commodore was "The King of England-three times three;" I really thought that the “hip— hip-hurra!" of our ancient enemies would never have an end. An English gentleman returned thanks, and proposed "The memory of that Great Warrior, Napoleon Bonaparte." The pledge went solemnly round, each wearing, in honour of the mighty dead, a sprig of his guardian willow. The evening was spent in concord, many patriotic toasts were reciprocated, many good things were said, and the blunt sincerity of military friendship presided over our parting.

HOME IMPROVEMENT v. TRANSPORTATION OF
PAUPERS' BILL.

To the Editor of the Englishman's Magazine.

SIR,-Pauper emigration, and the means of providing prudential employment for the poor, especially those of the agricultural class, are at present most important subjects of inquiry. As these subjects have been under recent discussion in the House of Commons, I am induced to offer a few remarks, in the hope that, as the result of long experience, they may perhaps serve to elucidate some parts of the question under consideration.

*

With regard to pauper emigration, I assume, first, that it is unnecessary; and, secondly, that it is not practicable to any useful extent, even though it were expedient to attempt it. I believe emigration to be unnecessary, because there is not, in my opinion, any surplus population. It does not follow that, because there are more labourers now in the market than are productively and profitably employed, that there is no other remedy to be found than that of transferring them to our colonies. Let any practical farmer, of good sense and intelligence, be consulted upon the matter, and I think his answer would be, that if the farmers generally had more capital, they would employ more men; and that the present state of the cultivated land throughout the kingdom, is not that which is calculated to give satisfaction either to the occupier of the soil, or to the intelligent and practical investigator. Without having recourse to any forced or unusual improvements, the common course of good and efficient husbandry would, in my opinion, soon call for the services of all the unemployed agricultural labourers, provided the occupiers of the land possessed sufficient capital, or that they were relieved from the excessive burthen of high rents and high tithes. If the poor man also were relieved from taxes on articles which comprise the principal necessaries of life, he would then be enabled to procure a comfortable subsistence, without requiring higher wages than the farmer could afford to pay him.

The consequences of the present state of things are, that the land is imperfectly cultivated; and the evil results of parsimonious husbandry, are doubled upon the farmers in the compulsory payment of high wages in the form of poor's rates, a species of outlay unproductive of return. It requires no great degree of prescience to foretel that all must soon become poor together, and in the end the whole population of the kingdom, as well as the classes alluded to, must suffer both in means and morals, to a degree that cannot long be endured without subverting the whole fabric of society.

The farmer is deprived of the means of employing as great a number of labourers as is necessary to keep his land in a proper state of cultivation, and it is thence erroneously assumed that the number of unemployed poor proves that there is a redundant population. The means of production, and the actual amount of produce from the soil, are thus annually decreasing at the moment when the natural, or rather unnatural, increase of population demands

* The writer of this article, in addition to ample agricultural experience in England, possesses a fund of practical knowledge, derived from the management of the affairs of the Australian Agricultural Company. He founded the Company's Settlement at Port Stephen; and, in a lately published work, gave an account of his stewardship in New South Wales, distinguished by a judicious spirit of observation and highly philanthropic views.-ED. E. M.

a condition of society diametrically the reverse. It is quite clear, therefore, that this cannot long continue. The amount of rents paid by the occupiers of the soil is, and will remain, matter of private arrangement between landlord and tenant, and must of course be left to adjust itself. The landed proprietors would best consult their ultimate interests, however, by fixing such a rent only as in the present state of affairs may appear strictly equitable. What this should be will be best ascertained by proprietors if they seek the advice of disinterested and competent agriculturists, on whose experience, judgment, and character, they can implicitly rely, instead of leaving so momentous a question, as is generally the case, in the hands of law and other agents who reside at too great a distance to pay that attention which the state of landed property requires, and who, in general, are otherwise ill qualified to conduct negotiations between landlords and tenants.

If a proprietor do not himself understand what is right regarding his tenants, or if he be prevented from residing on his estate, it is surely incumbent on him to employ some trust-worthy person to manage his affairs. If he be called upon to perform any duty towards his tenants or to society, surely, in the present state of the country, this is one of the first importance, and yet it is one which is in general less attended to than almost any other. Let the tenantry of England, and amongst them the poor cottagers, be heard upon the subject, and this truth will soon be promulgated. They will tell how much they have been oppressed and degraded, even under landlords who, in every other respect, stand high for the virtues which are most estimable both in public and private life, and who would be shocked on receiving information of the state in which some of their tenantry have been allowed to remain. How many proprietors are there too, who have no other knowledge of a great portion of their estates than that which is conveyed to them by a map, or by perusal of their rent-roll!

Solicitors, and other persons equally unqualified, are frequently entrusted with the charge of large estates. For the proper management of these, in which are involved the comfort and happiness of many human beings, these agents attend twice a year to receive the rents, and employ sub-agents or bailiffs to act for them in their absence; so that in fact the real details and patronage of noblemen's and gentlemen's lands, are frequently in the hands of low-minded and prejudiced men, (sometimes their gamekeepers), whose favoritism and tyranny are alike disgusting and mischievous, and whose chief merits, with their legal employers, consist in the activity displayed in collecting petty arrears of rent, and in working the machinery at the least possible expense. Such proprietors as know little of their own concerns are apt to imagine that because they receive the full amount of their rents their tenants are prosperous, or at least not poor; little knowing the sacrifices that are frequently made to meet the periodical payment, or the comfortless state of their indigent cottagers, with scanty gardens, and dwellings which, although fair to the eye, are often the crazy abodes of poverty and wretchedness. The distressed holders of these paltry tenements have but too often yielded up a grinding rent, at a sacrifice approaching almost to starvation. The first cause of all this misery is the cruel, although frequently unintentional, neglect of the proprietors. I am convinced, however, that the feeling of the great proportion of this class, is of a liberal tendency, and that the majority of them are desirous of performing their duty, when the circumstances which require it, are properly explained to them; and I am aware also, that there are many exceptions to the state of things I have pointed out. Their greatest errors have consisted in appointing improper agents, and in neglecting, whoever may be their agents, to pay periodical visits to their estates once in two or three years at the least, to inspect personally the condition of their farms and buildings; the interior as well as the exterior of their cottages; the extent and management of the cottage gardens; and to converse with and encourage their poor and humble occupiers. They who persist in neglecting such