THE OLD GENTLEMAN IN THE SNUFF.

COLOURED COAT.

Why, or for what reason, I first commenced the profession of an amateur author, is a question which I have frequently asked myself, and never have yet received a satisfactory reply-probably from this very good cause, that none could be given. The common excuse for either writing a play, (according to Sir John Denham,) or for falling in love, (according to Ovid and Theophrastus)—namely, that of "having nothing else to do," (an idea beautifully made use of in the O'Brallaghan theory of the origin of star-light,) is not applicable, Heaven knows! in my case. In fact, after mature deliberation, I can attribute my "cacoethes scribendi" to no other source than a remarkable adventure, which befel me in the Irish metropolis many years ago:

I distinctly remember, on that memorable occasion, while strolling one night through the streets which lie in the classic locality of Temple-bar, being attracted by the remarkable appearance of an individual, who, with a bell in one hand, and a paper lantern in the other, elevated on a six-foot pole, hospitably invited all passers-by to "step in,"a request with which I immediately acceded, and soon found myself in the centre of a bookseller's auction-room. The apartment was lit with gas, and was particularly crowded; and, as the sale had not yet commenced, I amused myself by an examination of the individuals around me, and indulged in various excursive speculations on their probable characters and occupations. The assembly seemed principally to consist of those retailers of literature, whose stands in the vicinity of the Four Courts and College offer so many advantages to those lawyers and students whose pockets cannot afford to meet the charges of more respectable sellers, and who willingly receive at a reduced price the different books of their professions, to use the vender's phrase, "better than new." There might be, here and there, a portlylooking personage looking out for a "Virgil cum notis variorum" for a son beginning the troubles of school life; and three or four listless figures, smelling villanously of tobacco, whom I set down as young surgeons or students. These, and one strangelooking gentleman, who seemed to have slept in his hat the preceding night, and was now indulging in a doze, stretched full-length on a form, made up the "entire strength of the company.'

I had, in this manner, mentally decided on the occupations of nearly all the audience, before the business of the night had commenced-I say, nearly all; for there was one little, old fellow, clad in a surtout coat, whose position (he was standing immediately under the lamp that diffused its beams through the apartment) prevented me from examining his features. The coat I could perceive was of a light brown, approaching to a snuff-colour, and seemed, like its master, to have seen better days. There was something about this figure which struck me; yet I cannot even now define what it was. Whether it was that nameless spell, which attends on faded gentility, or the caustic remarks he passed during the auction on every modern author put up to sale, I know not; but I felt my curiosity excited, and my whole attention became rivetted on this individual. I certainly never saw a man take snuff with such emphasis, or give a greater intonation to that simple monosyllable "Pshaw!" and, in truth, very few authors that came

before him but felt its effect.

During these cogitations, the auctioneer, with an appropriate remark on each, had disposed of sundry books, whose appearance not only promised much

reading, but also a quantity of paper; at last he came, after divers pamphlets, magazines, statistical surveys, blue-coloured novels, and dog-eared plays, to a little, square, odd looking book, decidedly not of English manufacture, whose large red letters on the title page, (it had no cover,) and Greek characters, made it altogether a very mysterious-looking volume_so thought the auctioneer, and his audience fully conanother looked at the end. Here, a long, lank man, curred in the opinion. One glanced at the beginning; whose profession I knew to be that of a book-binder, scanned its pages, and reprobated its stitching: there, a knot of youths, whose white neckcloths prooaths, declared, in a mixture of the clear Kerry claimed them scions of Trinity, after sundry quaint accent and the soft" Bocca Corkana," that "they knew nothing about it, as it was not in the course:' and thus, passing from hand to hand, it reached the old gentleman at last. Before this, I felt not the slightest interest in the matter; but when I saw the intense eagerness with which he regarded it, I thought it had really an odd look; and some dim idea of its being a treatise on " Glamourie," or a disquisition on The Cabala," took possession of me.

After glancing for a moment over its pages, and giving an approving "Hem!" he returned it to the auctioneer. Never yet was approbation better expressed than by that sound; simple as it was, it spoke volumes of praise.

The book was offered for sale-he bid for it: another offered-he bid again, somewhat testily; and, yet, there was a trembling cadence in his voice, that seemed to bode it as his last.

There was a pause, and a deep silence. He felt it, and tried to look unconcerned; but the gleam of anxiety that sparkled in his eye belied the effort. "Going, gentlemen, for five shillings!" cried the auctioneer, with a graceful wave of his hammer"quite a sacrifice!" He repeated, with a more extended flourish-"Positively, gentlemen, going for five shillings!-the third and last time!" Still no bidder was heard; but, ere the fatal "Gone!" was pronounced, and as the old gentleman, with a hand that trembled with eagerness, stretched for the book, Six shillings!" was loudly bid from the corner of the room where my friend with the hat lay.

'Twas a check! The outstretched arm fell, and the old man's hopes with it: there was a half sound upon his lips, as if he was going to bid again; but the consciousness of his poverty checked the tone, and he was silent.

There are times, when trivial circumstances will affect us more for the moment, than all "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" ever did-when the heart will feel lonelier, and the soul sadder, from some passing pang, than from whole years of suffering. It might be so with him: he might have thought of happier days and brighter prospects; and I turned away from him. I am not anatomist enough in human feeling to calmly trace on a man's brow the marks of bitter reflection. I bid for the book; none opposed me; I was declared the purchaser : when I again turned to where the old man stood he was gone!

I rushed to the street; but still I saw him not: it was a fine moonlight night, and the shadows of the houses were long and dark; by these means he must have escaped my search. There came upon me a strange thrill of batlled curiosity and uneasy feeling. I turned homewards, and, on my passing by the portico of the Bank, I thought I perceived a figure stealing by its pillars; and, rushing forward, nearly met the bayonet of the sentinel with my breast. After many other equally ridiculous adventures, I got to Russell-place at last, and soon found myself in my bed-room.

My first object was naturally to glance at the mysterious volume that had caused me so much trouble; and Sir William Deloraine never viewed the wizard's tome with the awe I perused its musty pages. In doing so, I thought my candle cast a very dim light, and, raising my head, to ascertain the cause, I beheld the old gentleman's visage gazing intensely on me: I coughed; but, still, he glared at me, with his burning eye fixed on mine. I looked at him sideways, and tried to whistle; but the sound died on my lips, and I felt a choking sensation in my throat, which mocked the attempt. "Pshaw!" said I; "tis mere imagination." "Pshaw!" was echoed from the corner! I grew frightened, and seemed to rise from the floor and approach the ceiling. The chairs and furniture whirled round me, and everything grew dim and misty. I looked at the book, and it seemed to be written in characters of fire: as I did so, he raised his hand in a threatening manner, and, approaching me, pointed to its leaves. In an agony of terror, I roared out, and fell upon the floor. On recovering my senses, I found the table overturned; and, on looking for the book, saw, alas! nothing but a heap of charred and burnt paper!

I have, since that momentous night, been a constant attendant at the auction-room, in the vain hope of either seeing the old gentleman or his book; but all my exertions have been without success-all my inquiries useless. Many a snuff-coloured coat have I since examined-many a "Pshaw!" have I listened to "oh! how unlike my Beverly's !"-but never again did I lay eyes on that mysterious stranger, or see another copy of his equally mysterious book!

ADIEU.

Adieu!-yet at that sorrowing tone
What varying passions swell—

It says that friends must now be gone,
Tho' loved and cherished well.

It seems to say in accents low,

Perhaps we ne'er may meetYet, ah! remember me, although Your face I ne'er may greet. And covered by a simple guise,

It steals into the heart,

And brings a tear to dim the eyes
In anguish ere we part.

It speaks of many a painful thought-
It tells of coming sorrow,

That tho' to day's with pleasure fraught
With pain may be to-morrow.
Farewell! through all life's varied page,
And changeful it may be,
May pleasure ripen with thine age—
From care and sorrow free.

Should aught then come thy grief to move,
Or care to cloud thy way-
May it but then a prelude prove

To many a bright'ning day!

MISS EDGWORTH.

If we have ourselves been useful in communicating knowledge to young or old; if we have succeeded in our hopes of promoting virtue and goodness; and more especially if we have, even in a small degree, attained our great purpose of advancing the welfare of our country, we owe at least much of the desire to do all this to the feeling derived in early life from intimacy with the writings of Miss Edgworthwritings which must have formed and strengthened the just and upright principles of tens of thousands, although comparatively few have enjoyed the high privilege of treading, no matter at how large a distance, in her steps. Much, too, we have owed to this estimable lady in after life. When we entered upon the uncertain, anxious, and laborious career of authorship, she was the first to cheer us on our way, to bid us "God speed," and to anticipate that prosperity of which we would speak only in terms of humble but grateful thankfulness.-Mrs. S. C. Hall.

surface of the earth, the polar star appears to a perTHE LATITUDE.-In consequence of the spherical son travelling due north or south to ascend or descend in the heavens in proportion to the space passed over Upon this fact a most important principle in geography is established-namely, that the latitude of a place in the northern hemisphere always corresponds to the altitude of the polar star; and hence, to ascertain our distance from the equator, in the Atlantic Ocean for instance, we have only to take the altitude of the polar star, and our latitude is determined. If the polar star, for instance, is 10, or 20, or 53 deg. above the horizon, we may conclude, with perfect certainty, that our distance from the equator is 10, or 20, or 53 deg., as the case may be. To make this perfectly clear-suppose we were at the north pole of the earth, our distance from the equator, or latitude, would be 90 deg., and the distance of the polar star from the horizon, or its altitude, would be 90 deg. also; for in that position it would appear in our zenith, or right above our heads, and, consequently, 90 deg. above the horizon. Now, suppose we travel 10 deg, in the direction of the equator, or due south, our distance from the equator would be diminished from 90 to 80 deg. and the polar star would appear to have descended in the heavens in the same proportion, that is our latitude and its altitude would be each 80 deg. If we travel 20 or 30 or any number of degrees under ninety due south from the pole towards the equator, our latitude and the altitude of the polar star will be found to decrease in proportion. Half-way between the pole and the equator, for instance, our latitude will be 45 deg., and the altitude of the polar star 45 deg. also; and if we travel to the equator, there will be no latitude, because we are no distance from it; neither will the polar star have any altitude, for it will in this case be on the horizon. This simple and beautiful principle in geography not only enables us, even in the middle of unknown seas, to ascertain our position on the earth's surface with regard to the equator, but it also furnishes us with the means of measuring the surface and determining the magnitude of the earth.-Sullivan's Geography.

be easily understood. The inventor hopes to arrive at such a point of pefection as to bring his machine to pronounce all the words of the best operas.

THE CLOSE CONNECTION BETWEEN

REASON AND INSTINCT.

On Friday evening, Nov. 11, we attended the first meeting of the session of the Dublin National History Society, and were highly delighted with a lecture delivered by the Archbishop of Dublin on the subject of Instinct. This society is essentially AN IRISH ONE, containing a well-furnished museum of the natural curiosities of Ireland, and it is very generally patronised. Gentlemen of every profession are among its members; and if philosophical subjects, as well as those connected with Irish natural history, be steadily adhered to, it cannot but prove most invaluable. We subjoin some very striking observations of the lecturer on the above heading, feeling as we do that, in many respects, the beasts of the field appear to act more reasonably than man, and that it is not always easy to distinguish between reason and instinct. The truth of the poet's dictum is very telligible

"Reason raise o'er instinct as we can,

In this 'tis GOD that works-in that 'tis man."

The lecturer, after a few preliminary observations, proceeded to say that a treatise upon the subject of animal instincts was a desideratum. He had seen in many books interesting descriptions of different instincts, curiously illustrated by well-authenticated facts; he had seen minute details of important and interesting characteristics of instinct, but he never saw anything like a philosophical or systematic view of the subject, nor had he ever heard a distinct and satisfactory answer to the question-" What do you mean by instinct?" It seemed, therefore, however far advanced they might be in a dictionary on the subject of instinct, a grammar was a thing very much required. When he spoke of animal extinct, it should be remembered that he included man. He presumed that they had all learned that man was an animal although it was a fact frequently forgotten by many; and what he desired to convey was, that man possessed instinct in a lower degree than almost all the animalsand in a lower degree in proportion to his superiority in other respects; and he would add, that, as man possessed instinct in a lower degree than the brutes, so in a lower degree than man, brutes-at least the higher brutes-possessed reason. He was advancing little by little towards the question, the answer to which he did not presume to give with anything like a decisive voice; but what he meant was, that as some things felt and done by man were allowed to be instinctive, so many things done by brutes-at least by the higher description of brutes-would be (if done by man) regarded as resulting from the exercise of reason. He meant to say, that the actions of the brute sprung from the same impulse as those of man. A man built a house from reason-a bird built a nest from instinct. He did not want to say that the bird had reason, but that man not only did the same things, but did them from the same species of impulse, which should be called instinctive either in man or brute; and that several things were done by brutes, not only the same action, but done from the same impulse. He would not say that several things which were allowed by every one to be acts of reason when done by a man, were done by brutes manifestly under a similar impulse He meant such things as brutes learned to do by their experience, and that they seemed to combine, more or loss, the means of accomplishing a certain end, from having learned by experience that such and such means so applied would conduce to it.

The higher animals, of course, showed more of instinct than the lower; but there were many instances of its existence in domesticated animals. The dog was regarded as the animal most completely man's companion, and he would mention a slight specimen of the species of instinct to which he referred as exhibited in a dog, the incident connected with which was upon record, and of which he had no doubt, although it did not come under his own personal observation. This dog being left by his master, who had gone into a boat, upon the bank of a river, attempted to join him. He plunged into the water; but not making allowance for the strength of the stream, which carried him considerably below the boat, he could not beat up against it. He landed and made allowance for the superior strength of the river, by leaping in at a place which was at a distance higher up from the boat. The combined action of the stream and his swimming carried him in an oblique direction, and he at last reached the boat. Having made the trial and failed, it was quite clear he judged, from his failure of the first attempt, that his course was to go up the stream, make allowance for its strength, and thus gain the boat. He did not vouch for the accuracy of this anecdote; he had seen it recorded, but it had not come within his experience. He believed it, however, to be a fact, and was sure that other persons could adduce similar instances of animal instinct. But there was another instance of this nature which did come under his own observation, and was more worthy of being recorded, because the actor was a cat-a species of animal which was considered generally very inferior to a dog. The cat lived many years in his mo ther's family, and its feats of sagacity were witnessed It was known not by her, his sisters, and himself. merely once or twice, but habitually, to ring the parlour bell whenever it wished that the door would be opened. Some alarm was excited on the first occasion that it turned bell-ringer. The family had retired to rest, and in the middle of the night the parlour bell was rung violently. The sleepers were startled from their repose, and proceeded down stairs, armed with pokers and tongs, to interrupt, as they thought, the predatory movements of some burglar; but they were agreeably surprised to discover that the bell had been rung by pussy, who frequently repeated the act when she wanted to get out of the parlour. Here were two clear cases of actions done by a cat and dog, which, if done by a man, would be called

reason.

Every one would most readily admit that the actions were rational-not, to be sure, proceeding from a very high exertion of intellect; but the dog, at least rational, jumped into the stream at a distance higher up from the boat into which he wished to get, because he found that the stream would thus carry him to it instead of from it; and the cat pulled the parlour bell, because she had observed that when it was rung by the family the servant opened the door. It was quite clear that if such acts were done by man, they would be regarded as the exercise of reason. These were called acts of reason when done by man, and he did not know why they should not be called the same when performed by brutes. Upon the other hand, hunger and thirst were as instinctive in man as in brutes. The invalid did not act upon instinct when he eat without a desire to do so he acted upon reason, which told him that unless he eat, his strength would not support him through the disease under which he laboured; but the man who eat when he was hungry, and drank when he was thirsty, acted as much from instinct as the new-born babe when it sucked. He laid down the proposition, that brutes possessed a portion of reason-man a portion of instinct. Then the question naturally arose, which was one he proposed, but did not presume to answer "What is the difference

The

between man and the higher brutes ?" He had hinted with respect to one single step just thus far, what he considered it not to be. It was not that brutes were destitute of the power of exerting reason or understanding; it was clear they had that power, and innumerable instances analogous to those he stated might be produced to prove the fact. It was not a difference in mere degree, but in kind. An intelligent brute was not like a stupid man. intelligence and sagacity shown by the elephant, monkey, and dog, were something very different from the lowest and most stupid of human beings. It was a difference in kind, not merely in degree. It struck him that all the instances in which brutes displayed reason-all the intellectual workings of mind, seemed to consist in the combination of means to an end. The dog who swam into the water to save his master; the cat who rang the bell to call the servant; the elephant, of whom he had read, that was instructed by his keeper, off hand, to raise himself from a tank into which he had fallen, by means of bundles of vegetable materials thrown to him by his keeper, with which the elephant constructed an inclined plane, and thus raised himself from the pit, and from which all the windlasses and cranes in the Indian empire could not have extricated him; the monkey in the zoological gardens who used to possess himself of a nut placed without the reach of his paw, by doubling a straw and casting it round it, by which means he was enabled to draw it towards him, and many other similar instances of sagacity and instinct, led him to think that the great difference between man and the higher brutes was the power of using signs arbitrary signs-and employing language as the instrument of thought.

HYPOCHONDRIA. Of all diseases, chronic or acute, there is none to be compared to this. Every man will of course insist that his own peculiar malady is the most heinous, and he the most exemplary of sufferers. Taken with its huge train of evils, which besiege aud vanquish the body and mind at once, there is nothing which at all approaches the terrible Passio Hypochondriaca." It is the curse of the poet-of the wit; it is the great tax upon intellect the bar to prosperity and renown. Other ills come and pass away, they have their paroxyms, their minutes or hours of tyranny, and vanish like shadows or empty dreams; but this is with you for ever. The phantom of fear is always about you. You feel it in the day at every turn; and at night you see it illuminated and made terrible in a million of fantastic shapes. Like the bag of the merchant Abudah, it comes for ever with the night, in one shape or another-giant or hideous chimera; or it is an earthquake, or a fiery flood or a serpent twining you in its loathsome folds; or it sits on your heart like an incubus, and presses you down to ruin!

ANCIENT CUSTOMS.-In the Northumberland household book for 1512, we are informed that a thousand pounds was the sum expended in housekeeping: this maintained 166 persons; and the wheat was then 5s. 8d. per quarter. The family rosé at six in the morning-my lord and my lady had set on their table for breakfast, at seven o'clock in the morning: a quart of beer-a quart of wine-two pieces of salt fish-half-a-dozen red herrings-four white ones, and a dish of sprats! They dined at ten-supped at four in the afternoon. The gates were all shut at nine, and no further ingress or egress permitted."

LOVE OF SOCIETY.-This is occasioned in a great measure by the love of ridicule; we commit so many follies, that we are glad to look amongst our fellow creatures for something still more absurd, to keep us in good humour with ourselves.

OSSIAN'S POEMS.

EPISODE OF MORNA.

FROM THE FIRST BOOK OF FIAN MACOUHL.

(Translated from the original Erse.)

[ARGUMENT-Cuthullin, General of the Irish in the absence of Fian, musters his army previous to giving battle to Swarren, king of Denmark, who had invaded the country. He misses two of his chiefs, and inquires the eause of their absence, which introduces the episode.]

Fergus advanc'd with slow and lingʻring pace; A cloud of sorrow hung upon his face, And sad and downcast was the warrior's look. Cuthullin mark'd the change, and kindly spoke"What shades thy soul, thou foremost in the war? Say where is Cathbat, and brave Duchomar, Friends of my youth, and leaders in the field When swords were shiver'd on the sounding shield?" They sleep in peace!" the pensive warrior said; "These hands have laid them in one narrow bed; No more to chase the swiftly-flying deerNo more against the foe to raise the spear; And four grey stones mark out the lonely spot Where they repose-their jealous feud forgot. They both lov'd Morna; but her secret sigh Arose for Cathbat of the dark-blue eye; He was the light she lov'd to look upon, More glorions to her vision than the sun! But when Cuthullin, at thy high command, The fiery signal pass'd throughout the land, When Cathbat left her side, with Duchomar, To aid thee in the coming storm of war, The maiden sought the desolate recess That frowns on heathy Branna's wilderness, Within its lonely cave to sigh and mourn, Till her heart's joy victorious should return. "The rivals met, dark as the sombre cloud That wraps the lightning in its airy shroud! And then the storm burst forth !-their swords they drew, And on the earth their shining bucklers threw, And clos'd in mortal strife on Branna's dell, And long they fought ere noble Cathbat fell. The victor, with his blood-stain'd sword, passed on, And sought the cave of Morna all alone. 'Morna! thou lovely sunbeam of the west! Morna! thou fairest inaid, and lov'd the best!' Duchomar said- why dwell'st thou thus alone Within that cavern, sleeping on the stone? Is it for thy soft form the rock was spread? Is adamant fit pillow for thy head? How fearful in that cave must be thy dreams! Thou wak'st to hear the roar of angry streams, And the oak's groan, when stormy winds arise. And darken'd clouds are hurried thro' the skies; But, midst the storm, thou still art bright and fair, And like the mist of Cromla is thy hair, Which on its rocks in radiant curls is roll'd, When summer suns set in a sea of gold!' Nov. 14, 1842.

BAZIERE.

LOSS OF AN INDIAMAN.-The Reliance East Indiaman, laden with teas, bound from China to London, was wrecked near Boulogne, on the night of the 11th Nov., 1842. There were on board 75 Englishmen, 27 Chinese, and 20 Dutchmen-total 122 of which number 116 were drowned! Among the survivors is W. O Neill, of Kingstown, Ireland. The quantity of tea she had on board amounted to 1,884,748lbs. The vessel was insured for £195,000-of which the British offices are responsible for about £15,090.

FOLLY AND MALICE OF MANKIND.-This is discovered by the intemperance of friends-by their tenderness of advice by their fears for your reputa tion by the care with which they tell you iil-news, and conceal from you any flattering circumstance.

LEAD. Forty thousand tons of lead, it is estimated, are obtained annually from the mines of Great Britain.