JEWS IN ITALY. It is said that the only honest tradesmen here (in Italy) are the Jews, who are therefore unpopular amongst other dealers: these unfortunate people fall between two stools—in England they are hated because they are not honest enough-in Italy because they are too honest. Their mode of dealing is perhaps always the same; it only appears different when compared to different things; contrasted with that of all other nations, it seems dishonesty, but with that of the Italians it is honesty. It is said that there are no Jews in Scotland; that this is the only country in the world from which they cannot extract a livelihood: the Jews can live upon as little or less than any other people, but not upon less than a quarter per cent.; if the average profits of trade fall below that rate, the Hebrews withdraw; a Jew must have his quarter per cent., and not finding that in Scotland, he cannot live. Others explain the phenomenon differently; they say that the children of Israel derive their nourishment from second-hand clothes; that this trade is in many countries attended with great sufferings and hardships; but that in Scotland, from the peculiar habits of the people, it would be so intolerable, that even Abraham himself would not follow it for a fortnight.-London Magazine.

CONSOLATION.-There is positively no wholesome food but mother's milk. There is poison in sweetmeats for the child, poison in the wine-cup for old age, and poison in all our meats and drinks for all sexes, ages, and conditions. If the boy leaves his coloured sugar-plums, and takes to bread, there he finds alum tightening and corroding the fibres of his stomach, and, without escaping pain, is made sooner old. If, terrified by the arsenic with which wine is clarified, the man takes refuge in beer, he is then dosed with coculus indicus, or nur vomica; and if he then resolves to drink nothing but

water, he finds it contaminated with lead in almost every town in Europe, and can no where drink it pure but as it is formed from snow in the mountains of Switzerland, and there it produces that most hideous of all maladies, cretinism.

THOUGHTS ON CELIBACY.-Among the numerous shapes of wretchedness and misery under which human nature presents herself to our minds, we find none more wretched and miserable than the condition of a bachelor; that name, like a tomb, is always surrounded with gloom; the very sound of it, like the cries of a solitary owl, wounds our hearts, and fills our minds with ominous ideas. Oh! how wretched must he be, who, rather than live and flourish in the bowers of connubial groves, wanders and pines beneath the cypress-like shade of single life! Wretched he, who toils along this road of woe, without the consoling help of a partner, to soften or to share the weight of his misery!

Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend!"

Man had already been placed in the terrestrial paradise, where he reigned absolute sovereign over an unbounded empire of pleasure and delight; yet, it was not good for him to be alone: even there something was wanted to his felicity; and it was not until the woman was created and given to him, as the partner of his joys and the companion of his days, that he was, even in the eyes of his own Maker, deemed completely happy. If woman was the last, she was also the best of heaven's gifts. By her are endeared to us the blessings of existence," and the beauties of nature. Ever flowing source of a delight ever new, of a pleasure ever sweet, woman was kindly left to fallen man as a

U

compensation for the numerous evils attached to his mortal destiny. The power of reproducing ourselves is a noble prerogative. By it we survive the dust of the grave; by it we almost become immortal on earth! Oh, sweet and consoling hope! eternal infamy light upon the slothful wretch whom thou dost not animate with a wish of multiplying his species! The reproduction of beings is a necessary and primary law; all nature implicitly obeys it-the bachelor alone resists it. He defeats the very purpose of his creation; he shuns that which all nature seeks; and whilst the whole of this universe works to give or preserve life, he seems to exist only to propagate death. Oh, bachelor! blush to live inert and barren in the midst of a world where round thee life blooms on every bough, and shoots from under every step. Blush! for the Almighty himself came forth from the sanctuary of his holy repose, manifested his attributes in the glorious works of nature, and breathed a faint likeness of himself on the majestic face of man. In the state of matrimony, the tender offices of a wife, the filial love of children, continually call forth our dearest affections; by that practice of mutual kindness and gratitude, our heart naturally and gradually rises to an universal benevolence, it vibrates to the farthest part of the social horizon; whereas in the state of celibacy, forsaken and forgot, our soul naturally contracts and narrows; sensibility lies dormant for want of proper objects to awaken its power. Within the gloom that surrounds a single object, we become indifferent to every thing but to ourselves; every avenue leading to our feelings is stopped; we are a link cut off from the chain of the living, and, like a tree whose dried roots can receive no nutriment from the surrounding ground, we lie a useless burthen on the earth that bears us. The death of a bachelor is in every respect suitable to his wretched life. On that barren ground which never was cheered by a ray of bliss, the bachelor suffers, and no heart re-echoes his

groans! he calls, and no voice answers to sooth the tortures of his misery! Death strikes, and the hand of affection neither softens nor repels the blow! He is thrown into the grave, and the earth that covers his unpitied remains is neither ennobled by a monument of conjugal love, nor sanctified by the tears of filial piety!-The bachelor dies, and, like the wind that blows, leaves no trace behind him!--the bachelor dies, and, worse than the dull weed that vegetates and perishes on our shores, sinks into the tomb, without leaving upon earth even a grain of his dust!

THE DUCHESS OF QUEENSBURY.-The duchess was the patroness of Gay, and being fond of the company of his brother wits, invited a party, consisting of Addison, Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot, to dine with him at her table. Addison talked little, and what he said was with such embarrassment that he could hardly finish a sentence. Pope was the orator of the company; his voice was shrill, and he made many tart observations. Swift was in one of his odd humours, and was determined to teaze the duchess; so as soon as the company were seated at dinner, he complained he had left his snuff-box behind him, and requested one of the servants might be sent for it. He soon after complained of the want of his tooth-pick case, and a second servant was dispatched for that, which he described as an indispensable requisite to his comfort. He then complained of the want of his pocket-book, and a third servant was sent for that: in short, he contrived to have so many different wants, that not a single servant was left in the room. The duchess looked around, and seeing no servants," Gentlemen," said she, "we are reduced to such a state that we must wait upon ourselves. If I want a piece of bread or a clean plate, I shall rise and help myself, and you must do the same." Swift, finding his scheme of putting the duchess out of humour had

failed, sat in sullen silence; but Gay, a fat jolly figure, threw himself back in his chair in an immoderate fit of laughter, delighted at his mortification. I am now fully convinced," said he, " of what I have often heard, that her grace, our noble hostess, is the best-natured woman in the world."

CONDUCT WORTHY OF IMITATION.-During the disastrous retreat of General Moore's army from Spain, an officer of one of the British regiments, overcome with fatigue and hunger, had dropped behind, He espied a tuft of trees in a field adjoining the road, towards which he crawled with the view of resting his weary limbs secure from the sabres of the pursuing enemy. On his coming near to the trees he perceived a woman, seemingly a soldier's wife, stretched upon the ground, and a little infant lying near her. He approached to administer such assistance as was in his power. It was too late; the hand of death was upon her, and she was scarcely able to utter these words "God bless you! it is all over," when she expired. The officer sat down beside her; he felt her hand; it was clay cold; he had nothing to succour her with: a brook was near; he filled his hat with water, and besprinkled her face and hands: all was in vain, and he was convinced she was utterly gone. Having rested himself so as to be able again to go on, he tied the little infant in the poor woman's handkerchief, and having fastened it to his back, he pursued his march in this condition, procuring what sustenance he could for himself and the little orphan, he at last, after a long and wretched journey, reached the port of Vigo, which at that time happened to be unoccupied by the French; there he got on board of a transport, and reached at last England with his little charge. His regiment (or rather the remnant of it) had arrived before him, and he joined it, still accompanied by the infant. He has it (it is a boy)