native seat, and the author's happy success approved his wisdom. "I know not," says the author, "of any better way to rectify this casual disorder than by collecting together all the ridiculous circumstances that have occurred for 30 years past, whether in writing, conversation, or action, whereby the publick have for a time been diverted, and for ever after ashamed of; such a work, well digested, and illustrated with suitable cuts, would probably answer the same end here, as Don Quixote did in Spain, our follies would then stare us so eminently in the face, and the reflection of our own weakness strike us so keenly, as must go a great way towards rooting out this national evil, and at the same time guarding us for the future against such like vicious affections." At this time, viz., in part of the 17th century, education was asleep, or only to be obtained at a great cost. An accidental circumstance occurred at this period which eventually laid the foundation of that library in the British Museum, which is now second to none other in Europe. Dr. Johnson, after many vain attempts, obtained permission of the King, George III., to visit the Royal Library at Windsor; and while he was intent on some volume of extreme interest, His Majesty entered the library, and, walking up to the Dr., said "Well, Dr. Johnson, what do you think of the man who has such a library as this?" The Dr., without lifting his eyes off the book, and of course not dreaming it was the King who asked the question, replied, "I think he is a d―d fool for keeping it locked up." This occurrence, trifling in itself, was productive of great national good; for when the circumstance came to the ears of the Prince Regent, he declared to Lord Yarmouth "that whenever he became king, he would present that library to the nation ;" when George IV. he did so, and it became the nucleus of the National Library, which is now in the British Museum, and is the depository of every work on Literature, Science, and the Arts. In his reign education awoke from its slumber, and began to shed its lustre on the fast increasing population of the country. Sir Walter Scott first engrossed the attention of the public by associating, in his works, history with romance: other authorsLord Macaulay, Ainsworth, &c., followed his example, and produced such a thirst for literature amongst the people, that their great patron, Lord Brougham, assisted by others, founded mechanic's institutes and literary societies, from which issued the cheap and useful literature designed for the purpose of diffusing knowledge amongst the people, which is now, however, carried to such extremes by various authors that we are sorry to remark, "much which is published is absolute trash." Mr. Charles Dickens, however, by his incomparable style of depicting character in his works of fiction, produced a literary revolution, and what are now termed sensational works and sensational entertainments, are the fashionable productions and amusements of the day; in fact the penny readings, at this time patronised by the public in general in preference to lectures on scientific subjects, and which are so ably supported by literary gentlemen and others, whose readings are intended for instruction as well as to afford amusement to the class of persons for whom they were originally intended, are crowded by persons anxious to progress with the stream of knowledge, whilst the grand system of education, based on sound classical, mathematical, and theological knowledge, is fully and effectually carried out in our great schools, universities, and colleges, the theological part being founded on that inspired volume, to which we are, above all others, indebted for the preservation of literature, which is of such transcendant beauty, in almost every kind of composition, that, had every other book been destroyed, it would itself have been sufficient to have taught wisdom to empires, to give laws to government, and to teach both morals and manners to the whole world. To its influence on our national morals and manners we owe our great progress in everything excellent, and our superiority amongst the nations of the earth-in religion, politics, history, and the arts and sciences, and those principles of justice and truth, which are the foundation stones of that glorious constitution under which we live, and by which our society is governed. The advancement of Literature is in a state of continuous progression, not only in our own country but in France, &c. We extract from the speech of the Emperor of the French, on opening the Chambers, a short time since, the following recommendation to his Senators "Let us spread instruction among all classes of society and so elevate the mind and body of our nation.” Formerly the magazines and periodicals were a necessity; on the Ist of the month they were anxiously expected; the booksellers' shops were besieged, and the new number read with avidity-and no wonder, for penny periodicals and newspapers had then no existence, railways had not superseded coaches, the electric telegraph was unknown, the daguerreotype unthought of, photography had not been discovered, nor had the wonders of the stereoscope dawned on the world of science. Machines are Science and the Arts have also progressed. made for building boats in five hours and a half, which formerly took ten days, another for microscopic writing, another to work quadrations and calculate logarithims up to seven plans of figures, another for measuring one-millionth of an inch; indeed inventions, by the adaptation of Science to Art, are also legion. Let us reflect on the 66 constant communication with all nations of the earth by means of steam, and how rapidly every discovery in Science and the Arts is communicated through its agency-its wonderful effects on the population of towns and villages, and how it has set the literati themselves in motion, the British Association" for instance now travelling by steam from country to country and town to town, communicating with those living masses of literature-the Professors of the Universities-imparting and imbibing knowledge which would otherwise have remained hidden from the world. The late Prime Minister, Earl Russell, in addressing the Association for the Advancement of Literature, Science and Art very recently, to prove our progress, said "The improvements in the analysis of light have led to an unexpected insight into the material of the sun and the fixed stars. High microscopic power, subtile mechanical apparatus for the polarization of luminous rays, have in combination led to the detection of the characters of substances, which in a state of incalescence, emit the rays of light. Thus knowledge has been gained into the metallic constitution of the sun, and thus Science on a wing that never tires, has pursued her flight from the times of Galileo to our own time. We may mention also the material advantages to be derived from Oersted's experiments with his small magnets, voltaicpile and bits of copper wire, from which, and the discoveries springing from these phenomena, has come the electric telegraph, first practically applied by the inventive faculty of Wheatstone; and in August, 1858, 2,000 nautical miles of which connecting Ireland with Newfoundland were laid down, and in 35 minutes the following telegram was sent from Ireland to Newfoundland : : 'Glory to God in the highest, good will towards men.' 6 This cable was not lasting; but August, 1866, has witnessed the transmission of messages by the Electric Telegraph Cable between her Majesty Victoria and the President of the United States, auguring On earth peace, good will towards men.' Sir John Bowring mentions a curious fact relative to the electric telegraph. When it was first introduced into China, the Chinese said, 'We are certain you have had communications with infernal spirits, for what you do could not be done unless the devil came to your aid.'' The age of Poetry also has not passed away, but is progressing by illustrating domestic events and pictures of real, not imaginary life, although it was said the age of Poetry ended with the death of Pope. Did our time and space admit, we could point out many other illustrations of Progress, by which the ingenuity of man has rendered both wind and tide subservient to his will-by which time has been defeated, space abridged, and labour reduced-but without intruding further on the patience of our readers, we will conclude the subject of Progress with the following lines: "Yes, fire, wind, and water, are our slaves, O'er earth's wide round, our will a moment sways." I How I Spent my First of September. AM now an old man of fifty, but, thank Heaven, am still enjoying good health, and look forward to the First of September with as much pleasure as ever, although not quite so active as in my younger days. This year, however, my patience has been most severely tried by an attack of the gout, which seized me towards the end of August, so that for the present, at least, I am kept from indulging my slaughterous propensities towards the unlucky partridges, thousands of which ere this have doubtless seen the deadly flash and heard the loud report of the instrument of death. Any of my readers who happen to be sportsmen, and I flatter myself I am as enthusiastic a one as most persons, will imagine my feelings, I only hope they may not know them from experience of the same sad fate, at being confined to the house on the First of September. I heaped the most dire maledictions on the Demon of the Gout, but all to no purpose: there was my great toe as swollen and as discoloured as ever, and once, when in the height of my ire I happened to put my foot to the ground, it gave me such a twinge, as even now I shudder to recal it. Under these circumstances, then, submitting myself to necessity, I philosophically determined to bear my misfortune as well as I could, and to use vulgar parlance, "make the best of a bad job." In vain, however, through the day, did I try to fix my attention on anything; my heart, at any rate, was in the turnip fields, if not my body, and all day long I could hear that confounded Smith, whose land joins mine, blazing away interminably: his breech-loader at any rate must have been in pretty good order. After dinner, how ever, I felt somewhat more resigned, and listening to the exhortations of my dear wife, who to do her justice had been most assiduous in her attentions to my gouty limb and endeavours to console me, I leant back in my favourite arm chair, and sought to drown my care in oblivion. Whether the port wine, of which I had partaken sparingly though with utter disregard of the doctor's injunctions, (but who could let the First of September go by without celebrating it in some way or another?), acted as a soothing draught, I am unable to say, but in five minutes I was fast asleep, and soon visions of my younger days began to arise, and I seemed once more to be an impetuous young man of twenty. What I dreamt was as follows: It is a few days before the First of September, 1836, and I am taking my breakfast in my solitary lodgings previous to going to the office of Messrs. Raymond and Steele, the well-known attornies, of Lincoln's Inn, to whom I stand related in the enviable position of "Articled" Clerk, when in the midst of my meditations as to what I shall be doing on the First, a letter is brought me from my uncle which, wondering what it could be about, I hastily opened, for letters came but seldom in those days, nor did my worthy relative often honour me with his correspondence. The contents were as follows: -- "Hazletowers, August 15th, 1836. "Dear Jack,-I intend having a shooting party on the First of September, which, as you know, is Lilian's birthday, and shall be glad to see you then. There will be a ball in the evening, which no doubt you won't think the worst part of the day's sport. So no more at present, from "Your old uncle, "LIONEL HASTINGS. "P.S.-Lilian sends her love, and hopes you will come." My uncle was a baronet of good property, who lived on the old family estate in Hampshire, and a finer truer-hearted Englishman never breathed. Once before I had paid him a visit on the First of September, and well remembered his genial hospitality and kindness, so that I was in no way loth to accept the invitation, and the sight of the postscript at once decided the matter. Lilian was the baronet's second daughter, and had been an old playfellow of mine, though I had not seen her much of late, and my heart leapt with joy at the thought of meeting her again. Hastily scribbling a line to my uncle, and thanking him for and accepting his invitation, I went as usual to my office. Somehow, dingy and dirty as it usually seemed, a brighter atmosphere pervaded it this morning, and the old law books had never seemed more interesting, though my thoughts kept wandering |