to the Catholic faith, was a constant object of the Pope's hostility, while the heretic Elizabeth, Queen of England, was a character he warmly admired, and never mentioned without enthusiastic admiration.

Speaking of her, on a certain occasion, to an English Catholic who visited Rome, he observed, "a Queen like yours deserves to reign; she governs her kingdom with energy and wisdom; respected abroad, and loved or feared at home, her subjects enjoy the benefits of a vigorous and successful administration. If such a woman were to become my wife, we might people the world with a race of Scipios, Cæsars, and Alexanders."

Yet, in his public capacity, as head of the Catholic church, he found it necessary to publish a bull of excommunication against Elizabeth, when Philip meditated an invasion of England with his invincible Spanish Armada.

At the same time, he privately informed her of the proceedings and intrigues of Philip against her, earnestly recommending her Majesty to prepare for a vigorous defence.

The subsequent defeat and disappointment of the Spanish King in this attempt, commenced with so much threatening arrogance, and carried on at so enormous an expence, is known to most readers, and was highly gratifying to Sixtus.

The imprisonment and execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, an event which produced a strong and universal sensation through Europe, has, in modern times, excited a long and animated controversy. Various have been the opinions on the justice of Elizabeth's proceedings.

As weak states, in contests of a more important kind, find it necessary sometimes to call in the aid of powerful allies, I may be permitted to observe, that the Pontiff Sixtus was often heard to say, "Had I been King of England, I would have acted precisely in the same manner."

When he was first informed that the unfortunate Mary was beheaded, he rose suddenly from his seat, and traversed the apartment in much apparent agitation, but not the agitation of regret, for, throwing himself into a chair, he exclaimed, "O happy Queen of England! how much art thou to be envied, who hast been found worthy of seeing a crowned head prostrate at thy feet!"

These words were evidently spoken with reference to Philip King of Spain, whose name was never mentioned in his presence without producing angry looks.

Sixtus could never submit with patience to a ceremony annually performed by the Spanish Ambassador; this was the presenting a Genet to his Holiness by way of acknowledgment that his master held the kingdom of Naples of the Pope.

On one of these occasions, rising hastily from his throne, he said in a loud voice, to Count Olivarez, "Our predecessors must certainly have been in a very complaisant mood, when they agreed to accept from your master's ancestors a poor pitiful hack, in return for a rich and flourishing kingdom. I hope soon to put an end to this mummery, and to visit the kingdom of Naples as its lawful sovereign."

But circumstance and situation were not favourable to his executing this purpose, which was the fond wish of his heart.

Such was Sixtus the Fifth, who directed the officers of his palace to give audience on every occasion to the poorest man in his dominions; who listened with condescension to the unfortunate, the widow, and the orphan: but punished with enexorable severity criminal delinquency, respecting neither person, rank, nor wealth; who was moderate in his enjoyments, of pure morals, and correct in private life. The revenues of the state, almost annihilated by the rapacious anticipation of his predecessors, he restored to more than double their former nominal amount. In the public treasury, which was exhausted at the time of his election, his successor found five millions in gold; his personal expenses were trifling, but his private charities amounted every year to a considerable sum; on these occasions he sought for and generally found patient, meek, and unassuming merit struggling with adversity; the perverse and importunate mendicant who begged by day and thieved at night, he ordered out of the city with reproof and frequently with stripes; so salutary were his edicts, and so undeviating and rigid the impartiality with which he enforced them, that his judges and police officers confessed that their places were become sinecures. Such was Sixtus the Fifth who, if the qualities we describe are the first and most indispensible duties of a monarch, deserves to be classed with the first and most glorious of kings, and to be numbered with the greatest benefactors of mankind.

THE WEEK.

From Wednesday the 17th to Tuesday the 23d December.

MUMMING, AN OLD CHRISTMAS SPORT.

As Christmas is coming, and we intend on many
accounts not to let it pass without notice, we thought
we might as well anticipate its arrival by some pre-
vious instructions, and, among others, by an extract
or two from good old holiday books. We do not re-
collect whether Mr Hone, in one of his many zealous
and entertaining volumes, has given the following
passages from Brand's Popular Antiquities.' Most
probably he has; but if the noticers of such subjects
avoid all which he has taken, we hardly know what
would be left them; and repetition, like that of the
sports themselves, is excusable in due season,

The latest notice of Mumming that we are aware
of, is in the memoirs of the most jolly and holiday-
making Pepys, who, in the Diary which he kept with
so extraordinary a mixture of preciseness and anti-
preciseness, recordeth that, at some Christmas meet-
ing (we forget the place), he and some friends of his,
male and female, played all sorts of pranks, after the
fashion recorded in our extract, and, among other
things, "did black their faces like devils."

Mumming (says Mr Brand) is a sport of this festive season, which consists in changing clothes between men and women, who, when dressed in each other's habits, go from one neighbour's house to another, partaking of Christmas cheer, and making merry with them in disguise.

Mummer signifies a masker, one disguised under a vizard; from the Danish Mumme, or Dutch Momme. Lipsius tells us in his 44th Epistle, Book III, that mornar, which is used by the Sicilians for a fool, signifies, in French, and in our language, a person with a mask on. See Junij Etymolog. in verbo.

It is supposed to have been originally instituted in imitation of the Sigillaria, or Festival Days added to the ancient Saturnalia, and was condemned by the Synod of Trullus, where it was agreed that the days called the Calends should be intirely stripped of their ceremonies, and that the faithful should no longer observe them; that the public dancings of women should cease, as being the occasion of much harm and ruin, and as being invented and observed in honour of the gods of the heathens, and therefore quite averse to the Christian life. They therefore decreed that no man should be clothed with a woman's garment, nor any woman with a man's.

The author of the Convivial Antiquities,' speak-
ing of Mumming in Germany, says, that in the

ancient Saturnalia, there were frequent and luxurious
feastings among friends: presents were mutually sent,
and changes of dress made; that Christians have
adopted the same customs, which continue to be
used from the Nativity to the Epiphany: that feast-
ings are frequent during the whole time, and we send
what are called New Year's Gifts; that exchanges
of dress, too, as of old among the Romans, are com-
mon; and neighbours, by mutual invitations, visit
each other in the manner which the Germans call
Mummery. He adds that, as the Heathens had
their Saturnalia in December, their Sigillaria in
January, and the Lupercalia and Baccanalia in
February, so, amongst Christians, these three
months are devoted to feastings and revellings of

every kind.

Stowe has preserved an account of a remarkable Mummery, A.D. 1377, made by the citizens of London, for disport to the young Prince Richard, son to the Black Prince.

"On the Sunday before Candlemas, in the night, one hundred and thirty citizens, disguised, and well horsed, in a Mummerie, with sound of trumpets, sackbuts, cornets, shalmes, and other minstrels, and innumerable torch-lights of wax, rode to Kennington, beside Lambeth, where the young Prince remayned with his mother. In the first ranke did ride fortyeight, in the likeness and habit of esquires, two and two together, clothed in red coats and gowns of sey, or sandall, with comely visors on their faces. After them came forty-eight knights in the same livery. Then followed one richlie arrayed, like an emperour; and after him some distance, one stately tyred, like a pope, whom followed twenty-four cardinals; and, after them, eight or ten with black visors, not amiable, as if they had been legates from some forrain princes.

'He was deficient it must be confessed in the mild "These maskers, after they had enterred the man-
acts of gentle persuasion; he was a stranger to the nor of Kennington, alighted from their horses, and
suaviter in modo; but to such a pitch was the wick- enterred the hall on foot; which done, the Prince,
edness and enormity of his subjects carried, that a his mother, and the Lords, came out of the chamber
governor of a mild character would have been dis- into the hall, whom the Mummers did salute, shew-
obeyed and despised. But he possessed a qualificationing, by a paire of dice upon the table, their desire to
more essential and exactly calculated for the times in
which he lived, the fortiter in re; an eagle-eyed
accuteness to search after and to see criminality
and fraud, however concealed or disguised, together
with unabating energy and an unconquerable resolu-
tion to resist and punish them.

play with the young Prince, which they so handled,
that the Prince did alwaies winne when he caste
them.

"Then the Mummers set to the Prince three
jewels, one after another, which were a boule of gold, a
cup of gold, and a ring of gold, which the Prince wonne

at three castes. Then they set to the Prince's mother, the Duke, the Earls, and the other Lords, to every one a ring of gold, which they did also winne. After which they were feasted, and the music sounded, the Prince and Lords daunced with the Mummers on the one part, which did also dance; which jollitie being ended, they were againe made to drinke, and then departed in order as they came."

"The like," he says, "was donne to King Henry the Fourth, in the second year of his reign, hee then keeping his Christmas at Eltham; twelve aldermen and their sonnes rode a Mumming, and had great thanks."

We read of another mumming, in Henry the Fourth's time, in Fabyen's Chronicle,' edit. Pynson, 1516, fol. 169, “ in whiche passe tyme the Dukys of Amnarle, of Surrey, and of Exceter, with the Erlys of Salesbury and Gloucestyr, with other of their affynte, made provysion for a Dysguysynge or a Mummynge to be shewed to the Kynge upon and all thinge readie for the same. Twelfethe Nyghte, and the tyme was nere at hande, Upon the sayde Twelfethe Daye came secretlye unto the Kynge the Duke of Amnarle, and shewyd to him, that hee, wyth the othere lordys aforenamyd, were appoynted to sle hym in the tyme of the froe sayd Dysguysynge." So that this Mumming, it should seem, had like to have proved a very serious jest,

In the tract intitled Round about our Coal-fire, or Christmas Entertainments,' 8vo. Lond., I find the following;-"Then comes mumming or masquerading, when the Squire's wardrobe is ransacked for dresses of all kinds. Corks are burnt to black the faces of the fair, or make deputy-mustachios, and every one in the family, except the Squire himself, must be

transformed."

This account further says:-" The time of the year being cold and frosty, the diversions are within doors, either in exercise or by the fire-side. Dancing is one of the chief exercises, or else there is a match at blindman's buff, or puss in the corner. The next game is Questions and Commands,' when the commander may oblige his subjects to answer any lawful question, and make the same obey him instantly, under the penalty of being smutted, or paying such forfeit as may be laid on the aggressor. Most of the other diversions are cards and dice."

SISTERS OF CHARITY.

:

WE extract the following notice of this admirable institution from the New Year's Gift for 1835,' edited by Mrs Alaric Watts, a very attractive number of that periodical. We regret we cannot give the plate which accompanies it, presenting a Sister in the costume of the Society; but all who can afford to purchase the book should get it for their children, were it only for the plate and this article; and there are very good things in it besides. We had the pleasure of seeing a few of the Sisters of Charity once, in passing through the city of Lyons, albeit the glimpse presented us with little more than the skirts of their dress, for they were turning the corner of a street, we believe, in procession. We have nevertheless treasured up the sight in our memory, as a moral counterpart to that of the shining and heavenly top of Mont Blanc, which we saw from a road in the neighbourhood. Both sights seemed the nearest heaven of any we ever beheld.

"Oh! what a singular dress that young lady has on, and how thoughtful she looks," was the observation of Blanche Wilson, a lovely girl of ten years old, as she drew from a portfolio the engraving which may be seen on the opposite page.

"That lady, my dear," replied her mother, "belongs to a community whose lives are past amidst scenes of suffering and distress. It would not therefore be surprising if sympathy with the afflicted should have given a sedate expression to features lovely as those before you."

"Oh! do tell me her history," exclaimed the little girl eagerly, "where you first saw her, and why she wears that singular costume? I long to know all about her."

"I will answer your query first," replied her mother. "She wears that dress simply because it is the habit of the charitable order of which she is a member-an institution peculiar to the Roman Catholic Church, at once its highest boast and its greatest

fulfilment, but boundless in their importance and gulations of the Society; and their service to the

Storm in Harvest,' however, we cannot concede the attribute of novelty; nor can we, unassisted by any enlightening text, divine the occasion of its being introduced in an Annual, at this time of day. It has certainly many points of merit; but it loses much by being in so confined a space; and, at the best, is not a very expressive design; the subject is not suited to Westall; the artificiality and supercivilization of his style are totally unfit for rustic subjects, or the representation of powerful feelings. gentleman's name before, which possibly is our inad

are of various interest and merit; we have mentioned the most remarkable. They are generally carefully and skilfully executed; and the getting up of the work is altogether handsome.

ence of society, and that these circumstances in our own country extend over the whole field of penal conviction, will be capitally punished, or transported jurispudence. I have been robbed the offender, on in a state of servitude. Shall I prosecute him? Not if self-regarding prudence is alone to be my Elegy written in a Country Church-yard: by Thomas counsellor; for her counsel would be-Add not to Gray. John Van Voorst. the loss inflicted by the robbery, the further loss inflicted on you by the prosecution. Not if I consult benevolence, for she would say-The punishment is too great for the offence. And such is the response which, in the knowledge of everybody, and especially when the punishment of death is menaced, frequently determines a man's conduct.

Is Mr John Martin who signs the preface, the Mr Martin? "We merely ask for information," and that we may know to whom we are to be obliged for a very elegant and interesting edition of this popular poem. Every stanza is illustrated with an appropriate wood-cut, and many of the designs are truly beautiful, particularly the Sunset,' by Copley Fielding; the Dawn,' by Constable; the Father's Return,' by Stothard, though not of his best, is very pleas ing; the little 'Village Hampden,' by Callcot is good; Mulready's Young Author,' waiting in the hall of his rich patron, is truly excellent-with the milliner, all trimming and cap-box, the sleeping porter, the "pampered menial" lounging insolently at the door. The book is not without defects, but the only one of any magnitude is a ludicrous misconception on the part of a Mr F. Howard of his author's meaning. It is in illustration of the stanza beginning" Here rests his head upon the lap of earth" accordingly, we see a genteel young man in black, dressed like Mr Charles Kemble in Romeo, reclining by a rivulet, whereas the lines speak of a man who has received decent Christian burial.

BENTHAM ON ANGER. [FROM his posthumous work, intitled ' 'Deontology,' from which so many excellent passages have been extracted in the LONDON JOURnal.]

LET the passion of anger be analysed, and its consequences traced. When under its influence a man is suffering pain-pain produced by the contemplation of the act which has excited the passion, an immediate consequencee is, a desire to produce pain in the breast of the party who has excited the anger. Anger, then, has in it two constant ingredients,pain suffered by the angry man, and a desire to give pain to the person by whom he has been made angry. And now to the question of virtue and vice. As there is no anger without pain, the man who draws pain upon himself without the compensation of a more than equivalent pleasure, violates the law of prudence.

Next comes the desire to produce pain in the breast of the object of anger. This desire cannot be grati

fied without malevolence and maleficence. Here is an obvious violation of the law of benevolence. And here we have an exemplification of the relationship between passion and pain and pleasure; between passion and virtue and vice.

Cannot anger then be indulged without vice in both its shapes, without imprudence and without maleficence?

It cannot! It cannot, at least, whenever it rises to the height of passion. And here a more remote but more mischievous result presents itself to view, as a violation of the law of self-regarding prudence.

The passion cannot be gratified but by the production of pain in his breast by whom the anger has been excited, and pain cannot be produced there without a counter desire to retaliate the pain or greater pain on him who has produced it. To the pain in the breast of the angry man there is a termination, and most commonly a speedy termination, but to the remote pain, which may be considered a third link in the chain of causes and effects, who can put a limit? Anger may have had what is called its revenge, but the exercise of that revenge may have created the durable passion of enmity, to whose consequences it is impossible to affix a boundary.

Since anger cannot exist without vice, what is to be done? Can a man exist without anger? Without anger can injuries be averted, can self-defence, can self-preservation be provided for?

But, were the matter rightly considered, the response, it might be said, would be-Yes, prosecute; for the good of the community requires that neither the suffering of the offender in the shape of punishment, nor the suffering of yourself, the prosecutor, in the shape of vexation and expence, should be grudged. Good! But I can ill afford it: the pecuniary burden to me will be greater than that uncertain, unestimated, and remote benefit which will grow out of the prosecution and its results. Again, the responses of benevolence have no influence with Be they ever so decisive, they have not a preponderant weight in my mind.

me.

In this case, neither prudence nor benevolence will produce action; and yet, if action were not produced, the security of society would suffer a serious shock-a shock serious in proportion to its frequency; and, if constant, security would be wholly destroyed, and the general ruin of property would immediately follow. The supposed virtue in both its forms is sufficient to preserve society, and anger, however dissocial its character, is indispensably

necessary.

TABLE TALK.

Exquisite Rhyme.-(Butler, speaking of an apothecary):

Stored with deletery medicines,

Which whosoever took is dead since.

- POETRY, PHILOSOPHY, RELIGION, are united in the spirit of Love. By that spirit, expanded and elevated, Intellect and Imagination create within themselves conceptions and emotions of the sublime and beautiful, the spiritual and the everlasting. Poetry is the produce of Love in its delight-Philosophy of Love in its wonder-Religion of Love in its gratitude-and thus, in all higher moods, the Three are One. Love broods on the wonders of its own delight, and Poetry is solemnized into Philosophy. Love is instructed in the first cause, and Philosophy is sanctified into Religion. Then sings the philosophical pious Poet his hymns and odes on Nature and Nature's God, and the tongues of men are as Angels.'-Essays on Spenser in Blackwood's Magazine.

A Secret of Longevity.—Admiration and light contemplation are very powerful to the prolonging of life; for they hold the spirits in such things as delight them, and suffer them not to tumultuate or to carry themselves unquietly, and waywardly. And therefore all the contemplators of natural things which had so many and so eminent objects to admire (as Democritus, Plato, Parmenides, Apollonius,) were long lived; also Rhetoricians which tasted but lightly of things, and studied rather exornation of speech than profundity of matter, were long lived (as Gorgias, Protagoras, Isocrates, Seneca,) and certainly, as old men are, for the most part, talkative, so talkative men doe often grow old: for it shews a light contemplation; and such as does not much straine the spirits, or vex them. But subtill, and acute, and eager inquisition shorten life; for it tireth the spirit, and wasteth it. Bacon's History of Life and Death.

The Poor of England.-The poor deserve all the attention we can give them; they are grateful and respectful to their superiors, and most kind to one another. Contempt, or neglect, they will resent it, and they have a right to do so; but let any one manifest an interest in their concerns, address them kindly, assist them with discriminaton, refuse, when necessary, with mildness, and reprove with temper, and he will never find reason to complain. As the almoner of public charities, I have been brought into contact with thousands of them of all grades, from the respectable artizan down to the imprisoned felon. I have never been treated with disrespect; and have far more frequently had reason to blush at the excess of their gratitude, than to reproach them for unthankfulness. Their kindness to one another in their distresses is most exemplary and affecting. When pleading for a neighbour, they will indeed urge the absence of every claim upon themselves, and their inability to afford any assistance; but after the aid they have been soliciting has either been obtained or denied, they will cheerfully divide their But, it may be said, there are circumstances in morsel, and perform voluntarily and gratuitously which not only pain-the natural effect of angerevery service. Their faults are on the surface, and pain purposely produced, but anger itself, the passion are often nothing more than that coarseness of manner of anger, is useful and even necessary to the exist- which belongs to their station; but whoever will

Certainly not without the production of pain to him who has inflicted the injury. But to the production of this pain anger is not necessary. Anger is no more necessary than to the surgeon by whom, to save suffering or life, a painful operation is performed. No anger is excited in his breast by the view of the agony he inflicts, or by the contemplation of the greater evil which would follow but for his interference. That anger should never have place is not possible it is not consistent with the structure of the human mind. But it may be said, and that on every occasion, and without any exception, that the less there is of it the better; for whatever pain is needful to the production of the useful effect, that pain will be much better measured without the passion than by it.

.

study them thoroughly will be compelled to admire their general character, and will feel it an enviable it is impossible not to sympathize, and to place them privilege to be enabled to relieve distresses in which generally in circumstances which shall afford scope and encouragement to their virtues.-Mr Osler, in Communications to the Poor-Law Commissioners.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

F., who writes to us on a point in our Supplement connected with Northumberland House, shall have an explanation in our next. He is quite mistaken respecting the intention of the passage.

The Sonnet to F. M. W. will be inserted with pleasure.

ALANNENSIS and C. P. J. have our best thanks; but they will have seen that their communication was anticipated.

We respect J. D. for the way in which he consoles his misfortunes.

We congratulate A. N. on his happiness. EVA shall be attended to, as soon as we have done, our duty to 'Christie's Will.'

A READER has obliged us in pointing out to our attention the book he speaks of, connected with city history. We shall procure a sight of it.

title; but we presume it would better suit his purThe Tales mentioned by H. H. have a promising pose to publish them elsewhere.

The verses of W. S. S. have good points, but are very unequal.

A communication from our friend, "The Hans Sachs of Dover," shall appear the first opportunity. The elegant selection of French poetry, intitled Fleurs de Poesie Moderne,' published by Messrs Chapman and Hall, has been received, and will have further notice.

W. H. C. appears to have a genuine taste for Poussin.

The kind recommendation of our Bristol friend shall be duly considered.

We had the pleasure of receiving both the letters of our friend W. H. S.

The question between A CONSTANT READER and his friend, respecting our non-notice of Mr Braham in other periodicals, is easily settled. We have had the pleasure of recording our admiration of him (so to speak) a thousand times.

We will make a point of seeing the articles mentioned by Mr A. C., and of taking his proposal into consideration.

The use of the word "domestic" in a national sense, as opposed to "foreign," is certainly not correct in the abstract, since, taken literally, it applies only to domus or the house; yet as all the internal politics of a nation affect people more or less in their

domesticities, and may be said, literally as well as metaphorically, to "come home to men's business and bosoms," and as a strong sense of this identification of national and household interests is shown in a variety of phrases in use, such as "home-consumption," "at home and abroad," meaning out of doors merely, or in another country, &c., it appears to us that custom (a great warranter in itself) has justly determined the question so politely referred to our judgment by Mr C. R.

The Horrors of Atheism,' a Vision from Jean Paul Richter, shall appear speedily.

We should be happy to encourage the ingenuous studies of E. N. who translates from Schiller; but can he not find some shorter passage?

We are obliged to ONE OF THE MILLION for his kind expressions. The edition alluded to is not an edition already existing, but one contemplated. Perhaps ONE OF THE MILLION will find the point in question satisfactorily noticed in an article which will appear in the LONDON JOURNAL next Wednesday.

The communication of our friend BooxWORM next week. His wishes with regard to the printing

shall be attended to.

Mr TEAR'S One Step Further in Stenography' shall be noticed forthwith.

LONDON: Published by H. HoOPER, 13, Pall Mall East. From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.

LONDON JOURNAL.

TO ASSIST THE INQUIRING, ANIMATE THE STRUGGLING, AND SYMPATHIZE WITH ALL.

but

cially as we hope nobody will then want them.
the Bellman's Verses' shall turn to something nobler,
albeit, we have a liking for him; ay, for his very
absurdities; there is something in them so old, so
unpretending, and so reminiscent about him. As
long as the bellman is alive, one's grandfather does
not seem dead, and his cocked-hat lives with him.
Good Bellman's Verses' will not do at all. There
have been some such things of late," most tolerable
and not to be endured." We have even seen them
witty, which is a great mistake. Warton and Cow-
You may
per unthinkingly set the way to them.
be child-like at Christmas; you may be merry; you
may be absurd,—in the worldly sense of the term;
you must write with a faith, and so redeem your
old Christmas reputation somehow. Belief in some-
thing great and good preserves a respectability, even
in the most childish mistakes; but it feels that the
company of banter is unworthy of it.
The very
absurdity of the Bellman's Verses' is only bearable,
nay only pleasant, when we suppose them written
by some actual doggrel-poet in good faith. Mere
mediocrity hardly allows us to give our Christmas-
box, or to believe it now-a-days in earnest; and the
smartness of your cleverest worldly-wise men is felt
to be wholly out of place. No, no; give us the good
old decrepid Bellman's Verses,' hobbling as their
bringer, and taking themselves for something re-
spectable like his cocked-hat, or give us none at all.
We should not like even to see him in a round hat.
He would lose something of the old and oracular by
it. If in a round hat, he should keep out of sight,
and not contradict the portrait of himself at the top
of his sheet of verses, with his bell and his beadle's
staff.
The pictures round the verses may be new;
but we like the old better, no matter how worn out,
provided the subject be discernible; no matter what
blots for the eyes, and muddiness for the clouds.
The worst of these old wood-cuts are often copied
from good pictures; and, at all events, they wear an
aspect of the old sincerity.

upon well-disposed and sympathetic minds by reflec- Modern Philosophy, who could never have been

tions on the season.

The Waits, that surprise us with music in the middle of the night, evidently originated in honour of the heavenly visitation. They are, unfortunately, not apt to be very celestial of their kind. There is a fellow in particular, that plays the bass, who seems to make a point of being out of tune. He has two or three notes that are correct enough, that enable him

to finish in a style of grandeur and self-satisfaction, but his "bye-play," for the most part, is horrible. However, the very idea of music is good, especially in the middle of the night; and a little imagination and Christian charity, together with a consideration of his cold fingers, will help us to be thankful for his best parts, and slip as we can over his worst. When the English become a more musical people, zealous amateurs will volunteer their services on fine nights, and, going forth with their harps and guitars, charm their friends and neighbours with strains rendered truly divine by the hour and the occasion,Divinely warbled voice

Answering the stringed noise.

(See Milton's ode, as above-mentioned.)

Soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Merchant of Venice.

A Christmas Day, to be perfect, should be clear
and cold, with holly-branches in berry, a blazing
fire, a dinner, with mince-pies, and games and for-
feits in the evening. You cannot have it in perfec-
tion, if you are very fine and fashionable. Neither,
alas! can it be enjoyed by the very poor; so that, in
fact, a perfect Christmas is impossible to be had, till
the progress of things has distributed comfort more
equally. But when we do our best, we are privi-
leged to enjoy our utmost; and charity gives us a
right to hope. The completest enjoyer of Christmas
(next to a lover who has to receive forfeits from his
mistress), is the holiday school-boy, who springs up
early, like a bird, darting hither and thither, out of sheer
delight, thinks of his mince-pies half the morning,
has too much of them when they come (pardon him
this once), roasts chesnuts and cuts apples half the
evening, is conscious of his new silver in his pocket,
and laughs at every piece of mirth with a loudness
that rises above every other noise. Next day what a
peg-top will he not buy! what string! what nuts!
what gingerbread! And he will have a new clasp-
knife, and pay three times too much for it. Sour
also will he suck, squeezing their cheeks into
oranges
his own with staring eyes; and his mother will tell
him they are not good for him--and let him go on.

A Christmas evening should, if possible, finish with music. It carries off the excitement without abruptness, and sheds a repose over the conclusion of enjoyment.

A word respecting the more serious part of the day's subject alluded to above. It is but a word, but it may sow a seed of reflection in some of the best natures, especially in these days of perplexity between new doctrines and old. It appears to us, that there is a point never enough dwelt upon, if at all, by those who attempt to bring about a reconciliation between belief and the want of it. It is addressed only to the believers in a Providence, but those who have that belief, if they have no other, are a numerous body. The point is this, that Christianity, to say the least of it, is a GREAT EVENT. It has had a wonderful effect on the world, and still has, even in the workings of its apparently unfilial daughter,

what she is, but for the doctrine of boundless Deity, grafted upon the elegant self-reference of the Greeks, and the patriotism of the Romans, which was so often a mere pretext for the most unneighbourly injustice. Now so great an event must have been in the contemplation of Providence, one of the mountain tops of its manifestation; and, if we say, even of a Shakspeare and a Plato, (and not without reason,) that there is something "divine" in them, that is to say, something partaking of a more energetic and visible portion of the mysterious spirit breathed into mankind, how much more, and with how much more reverential a love, ought we not to have a divine impression of the nature of Him, who drew the great line between the narrowness of the old world, and the universalities of the new, and uttered to the earth, through the angelical organ of his whole being, life, and death, that truly celestial doctrine "Think of others !"

In saying this, we have no intention of begging
the question in favour of any species of false Christi-
anity, either such as is dishonourable to heaven by
its bigotry and other melancholy inconsistencies, or
pernicious to man by its disingenuousness and
worldly use. In thorough and spotless sincerity do
we say it. Would we were as free from blemish in
other respects! But we add this protestation in
order to discrepate our opinion from those who
make "artistical" or " theatrical ones of a show of
Christian belief, very much, we think, to be depre-
cated, and such as the Athenæum' pointed at the
other day in some excellent remarks on a French
book. And the editor of the Kent Herald' will
have the kindness to take it as a reply to his hand-
some comment on our notice of his poetical address
to us, published a few weeks ago in this Journal,
under the head of a • Remonstrance and an
Answer: for it is he, it seems, who honoured us
with the verses; and some perplexity in connexion
with the present subject was, we suspect, at the
bottom of them. We intended to say more, especially
for the sake of the correspondent who writes to us
under the signature of ONE OF THE MILLION; but a
dread of violating our anti-controversial system hinders
us, as well as some other considerations; and we
should apologize for its introduction on this holiday
occasion, did not the holiday itself warrant an alterna-
tion of the liveliest and most serious moods. Luckily,
be serious as we may, there is nothing, thank heaven,
Our
ponderous or gloomy in our seriousness.
notions of Christianity are as universal as the skies,
and as happy as childhood; and our emblem of it, if
we were a painter, and could paint it in one figure,
would be a child with the forehead of a man,—the
meeting of the extremes of innocence and wisdom.

All Great Poets Good Men. - False philosophy, false poetry, and false religion-all arise from selfwilled ignorance, or misconceptions of the intimations Nature gives us of her own laws. "Truth and pure delight" are inseparable, because, cognate; but impure pleasure obscures and confuses those intimations which in their settled brightness are intuitives. Hence all great poets have been good men. In all cases where the physical has disturbed or oppressed the spiritual, poetry in that man's being has languished and died, or shown, by fits and starts, a convulsive strength tenacious of troubled life. And so has it or extinction of "pure delight," whether wrought by ever fared with philosophy and religion-in the decay prideful reason rushing into the dark, or by polluted revel impatient of the ideal, philosophy degenerating into scepticism, and religion into superstition.-Essays on Spenser, in Blackwood's Magazine.

THE SONG OF THE CAT.

[We have taken a liberty with our esteemed correspondent, BOOKWORM, in publishing the following private communication, by way of preface to the good old song with which he has favoured us, but, to say nothing of the commendation with which he sets out, and of which we are willing to avail ourselves, it will save us the necessity of noticing one or two points in other words; and there is something to us so pleasant and straightforward in his style, that we could not help printing the whole of it.]

"DEAR SIR,

"Your admirable ultra-domestic article, The Cat

by the Fireside,' put me in mind of a Scotch song, supposed to be the ruminations of a cat (albeit she is not a ruminating animal), while basking in the sun of a comfortable fire. I have written it down from memory, and transmit it to you, thinking it may perhaps be worthy a place in your Journal. If you deem that it is so worthy, please give directions that it be set up' by a compositor who is a Scotchman, that the Scottish spelling may be attended to. I hope you will excuse this interference, but I have often been vexed with the blunders made by Englishmen in such cases.

"The burthen of the 'sang-Three threeds an' a thrum' is the translation given to the sound of the cat's purring by the Scotch, I suppose from the similarity which exists between it and the 'birring of a spinning-wheel, to which Three threeds an' a thrum' evidently refers.

"In the Hints for Table Talk' which you have, will you be so kind as correct the following error. Talking of chemistry being in the very salutation,' I have derived it from cameo (I think), please alter that to kamai, the sound of the Arabic word signifying to conceal. Excuse this trouble, and believe me yours truly.

"Dec. 6. 1834."

AULD BAWTHRENS' SANG,
AT A SCOTCH INGLE SIDE.

The gudewife birrs wi' the wheel a' day,

Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum,

A walth o' wark, an' sma' time for play,
Wi' the lint sae white, and worset grey,
Work fu' hard she maun, while sing I may

Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum.

The gudewife rises frae out her bed,

Three threads an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum,
Wi' her cozey nicht-mutch round her head,
To steer the fire to a blaze sae red;
Her feet I rub wi' welcome glad,

Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum.

I daunder round her wi' blythesome birr,
Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum,

An' rub on her legs my sleek warm fur;
Wi' sweeps o' my tail I welcome her,
An' round her rin, wherever she stir,

Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum.

The men-folks' time for rest is gye sma',

Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum,
They're out in sunshine, an' out in snaw;
Tho' cauld winds whistle, or rain should fa',
I, i' the ingle, dae nought ava',

Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum.

I like the gudeman, but loe the wife,

Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum,

Days mony they've seen o' leil and strife;
O' sorrow human hours are rife;
Their haud's been mine a' the days o' my life,
Three threeds an' a thrum,
Three threeds an' a thrum.