They were all so weak and emaciated, having their limbs broken out in ulcers, owing to the continued action of salt water for eleven long days, that they were unable for weeks, even with every attention, to pursue their perilous vocation; being mostly strangers in Liverpool, and having lost all but the remnants on their backs, they were in a most destitute condition. Owing to a law (instituted we believe by underwriters, as an inducement to mariners to abide by their vessel to the last) they did not receive one farthing of their wages; although such a law, in a case like this, "would be more honoured in the breach than the observance." These circumstances loudly appeal to the benevolent in behalf of such poor fellows, belonging to a class of men, who in war are the safe guard of their country, and in peace pursue a hazardous employment, to administer to our comforts and our luxuries. The survivors were twelve in number. Among these was Joseph Caldwell, son of Mr. William Caldwell, of Frodsham, conveyancer. The captain left a wife and five children to deplore his loss: some of the crew also left families.

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small cotton-spinner residing in a neighbouring town. This honest tradesman, as he grew rich, grew ambitious. He built a handsome square mansion, which he (being of Cockney origin) christened, "The All;" and he turned an oak fence round six acres of meadow, which he dubbed "The Park." He rode likewise in his coach and four, and agrceably to the dictum of Mons. Cottu, got himself enlisted on the Grand Jury. Certain pecuniary obligations conferred Jurisprudence d'Angleterre.

by old Twist upon my friend Blackacre enforced an invitation of the former to the manor-house, which has since grown, not without substantial reasons, into an intimacy; and though old Twist is himself as dull as a post, yet has he discovered to the Blackacres a mine of wit and fun, which in their whole previous lives they "had never dreained of in their philosophy."." Twist All" stands very high, and commands an extensive prospect: on the very first visit, the Blackacres were called on to admire its cityation; and ever since it has been a standing joke in the family, to make old Twist recur twenty times a day to the cityation of his house, the cityation of public affairs, or the cityation of any thing else, that can press into the service the ill-fated, but obsequious polysyllable. The eldest Miss Twist has likewise an unfortunate predilection for the French word naivetté, though two hundred per annum spent during six years at a French boardingschool failed in purchasing its right pronunciation. Sometimes she admires navette in the abstract; sometimes she praises her sisters for their great navieté ; but most frequently she gives herself credit for an extraordinary share of navitie;-so ingeniously does she go wide of her mark! This little bit of slip-slop is the source of inextinguishable mirth to the Blackacres; the girls take off" the Twists" in every possible mode of malaprop accentuation; and the father invariably brings up the rear with a customary doubt of the genuineness of the article; affirming that the lady is as cunning as a fox, and that her navietie is, in plain English, nothing more than mere knavery. In this manner has the spectacle of the inferiority of the Twists, roused the Blackacres to a sense of their own wit and spirit. The lapsus lingua of the manufacturers keep the tongues of the agriculturists in incessant activity. The incongruities in their dress and furniture preserve their gentle-blooded neighbours in perpetual good humour with themselves; and old Twist's mismanagement of his land, which he will farm himself at a loss of thirty per cent, has almost reconciled Blackacre to the idea that the ground is no longer his own.

Twist, though at bottom a good fellow enough, of plain, strong sense, and bearing his budding honours with reasonable meekness, has nevertheless a taste for show and expense, that might have proved distressing to the less opulent country gentlemen, whom he throws into the shade, (and that might, in such a case, have been the means of sending his family to Coventry; or in other words,

consigning them to the society of those townsfolk, from whose second-hand gentility the father had retreated into the Grand Jury room)-but that envy does not necessarily take away the appetite. If the best wine is the wine which is drunk at another man's expense, Twist's claret might on its own merits have been deemed the second best, even though it still stood on the debtor side of your account with the wine-merchant. Twist also keeps a man-cook, who, though as ill-tempered as fire can make him, is still " your only peace-maker," and reconciles many a reluctant cub, of estated conceit, to his master's-vulgarity. If Twist's conversation is not good, his turtle uniformly is; and whatever may be the quality of his wit his champaign is always sparkling, and never ropy. But best of all, Twist's three young ladies, each with thirty thousand pounds—to her fortune, clinch the business, and render their father the most popular man in the county. For their sake, a Twist was never omitted in an invitation. Every body drinks wine with them, every body dances with them, and every body flatters them; and though this has given some offence to three portionless Honourables, who, for their sake, were sometimes "left and abandoned by the velvet friends" of their own grades ;-yet the forgiving souls overlooked it all for the sake of the Master Twists, their thriving, and therefore truly-amiable brothers.

At the present moment, when commercial prosperity increases faster than the power of enjoyment, and capital is at so low a value that you can scarcely get three per cent. for your money, the encouragement of upstarts is quite a national concern. The paltry extravagance of the mere estated spendthrift, cannot waste and dilapidate half fast enough to keep industry in employment. It is the upstart alone who can spend like a gentleman, and prevent money from becoming as little in demand as air or water. If all the jewels and plate which ornament the houses and persons of city upstarts, were circulating on 'Change, those who live by the interest of their capital might beg in the streets; and if these useful personages preserved in their prosperity the penurious practices by which they rose to wealth, half the shops in Bond-street would fall to ruin, the seats in a certain nameless assembly would not fetch the price of an election dinner, and the monsters of the Heralds' Office would cease to breed. In the indirect taxation of the country, the most fatal diminution would soon be discovered; the imports would rapidly fall

off, and (what would have puzzled the economists of the last generation) the exports would share their fate: insomuch, that it is chiefly to the useful corps of upstarts that we are indebted for our present exemption from the income-tax.

After this enumeration of the various utilities of an upstart, need it be added, that the dislike of so meritorious a class, is a positive proof of littleness of mind? If the puffed-up conceit of some of the weaker vessels be a stumbling-block in the way of their less fortunate associates, who have been left behind in the race, it is only because an equal portion of vanity and pride lies rankling in the bosoms of the undistinguished, ready to burst forth on the first puff of Fortune's favouring gale; and Plato's reply to Diogenes, if they had ever heard of it, would be the best defence of the calumniated. D'ailleurs, when a man spends his income like a prince, it is rather hard that he may not be as whining and as insolent as a prince likewise; and be it moreover observed en passant, that if your upstart places a wide distance between himself and his former equals, nobody has a better right to know what he is doing, since he has himself painfully traversed the interval in person, and must be able to tell its length to a fraction.

Whatever France may have gained by her counter-revolution, she is evidently a loser in the downfall of her upstarts the parvenus, who have sunk to a sad discount in consequence of that event. In their place a specious and degenerate breed have been forced to the surface, with all the faults and few of the virtues

of their great originals. After suffering a thirty years' eclipse in the garrets of half the cities of Europe, they have suddenly cast the slough of their crysalide condition, and now flutter through Paris in a new-furbished splendour, (to borrow an image from sign-board technicalities) just like the "old hog in the pound new revived." From the gardens of the Tuilleries, they look down with disdain on the few stragglers remaining of the genuine breed; and equipped with a douillet and an umbrella, they regard with an equal contempt, the marshal who assisted in conquering half the world, and the financial roturier, who has swallowed and consumed the better portion of the fruits of his victories. It is, however, in the country towns, that these modern antiques shine forth in the full brilliancy of their revivification. Under the denomination of mayors, prefēts, and sous préfets, they rule the people with a rod of iron, and are indeed "viceroys over" the king and his ministers.

Beware," gentle reader, "of counterfeits, for such are abroad." But let them not bring the condition of an honest upstart into contempt. Let the false pretenders act as they may, the "true sort" will ever be regarded by the judicious as a worthy, innocent, and useful portion of the community; and even should a Twist get into parliament, and have the ill taste to oppose national rights and liberal sentiments, and to set himself against every concession to the people from whom he sprang, however much you may pity or condemn the individual, still I pray you, remember that his being there, is an encouraging prospect for industry, a feather in the national cap, and a practical triumph over the absurd principle, which regarding mankind as divided into the two species of natural lords and natural slaves, marks out for derision the industrious architect of his own fortune, by affixing to him the senseless and reproachful appellation of Upstart.—New Monthly Magazine.

HAMPSTEAD HEATH.-A

SKETCH.

IT is the recollection of our youthful hours, which dwells upon our minds in all the vivid colour of reality which imparts a pleasure no earthly power of ill can throw a gloom over. The enraptured fancy often reverts to the scenes which we loved in youth, with all the ardent pleasure of infantine simplicity, to the long remembered spots which return upon the mind loaded with remembrance of boyish pleasures, and childhood's fancies, with unmixed feelings of delight. If such be the delights of recollection, what will not the scenes themselves recal? those scenes which, in life's young hours, we most dearly prized, most fondly loved. Standing on the spot where ours

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------" was the gay sunshine of the breast," those feelings once more glow in all the brightness of renovated joys. Such scene to me is Hampstead Heath, with all its wildness, all its rugged paths, and all its cherished, bright associations; its pits its mounts-its purling streams and emerald plains here and there varied by a thicket of trees, enamelled with flowers the modest daisy-the retiring violet, or the blooming heath-bell. Sometimes I have thought with pleasure upon the hours when I have wandered in that delightful solitude, searching for the wild anemonies, safely sheltered beneath the spreading branches of the wild-rose briar; when I have culled the emblem of innoence, a lily, glittering in the dew-drons

of the morning, or, after a day of intense heat, reviving in the coolness of the evening twilight. Those hours, long passed those scenes long left, have become endeared to the memory-we know not why, but that they were our homes, and the days of our childhood. We see other scenes, which, in comparison with our beloved homes, are but as a desert, wild, savage, and unadorned: but those scenes have not the charm of home. The spot we first knew seemed a paradise to our infant eyes the idea grew with us, and continues with us. When I returned last to this scene, I thought of Scott's lines, beginning

"Breathes there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said--Whose heart has ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wand'ring on a foreign strand?" 'Twas my home-'twas there the short season of my school life was past. When I returned, after a long absence, to the Heath, the glittering spire seemed like an old friend over whom time had drawn his lines, but had left the character of his features still unchanged. My delighted memory found a friend in every leafy bough, in every elm-tree's hollow trunk, ivy bound and knotted grown. As one who returns to the bosom of his native glen, after a long pilgrimage through life's thorny paths, he finds that some are gone, that some remain-but all are changed; those that were then infants,

are now men-and of those that were then

men, some are gone and all are decaying, surrounded by those ivy twigs of mankind, their children's children. I visited the old school-room: the tables were the same, but knives had been busy since I last saw them. The shelves stood still unpainted. I could point out the spot, on one of them, where I had traced out, in ink, a grotesque face. I remember the task which it gained me from the master-and the silent glances of applause from the boys. The master was a man fitted for his profession-mild, kind, and persevering; seldom put out of temper by the obstinacy of his pupils, ever willing to gratify them, and never inclined to flinch from his duty. Often, since, have I regretted the thoughtlessness of mind which led me so often into errors, regretted as soon as committed, and which never gave me any pleasure. Good old man! remembrance has through my life fondly clung to your memory; and, as long as you tarry a sojourner in this vale of sorrows, I can never cease to regard you with gratitude and affection. In the play-ground, the old shed still continued. In many a snower, I have passed my time

beneath its sheltering roof, and joined in the games of youth which suited its narrow bounds. I sat on the seat, and heard the bell ring again which has so often broken in upon my sports; and I almost, after so long a lapse of time, involuntarily rose up to answer its summons.

After dinner, I wandered forth into the green meadows whither, on halfholidays, I have been with the school to rove about in all the luxury of temporary liberty. The scene, how was it changed! -London seemed like a monster stretching itself even to my very feet. But the view into Berkshire-Surrey-nay, even to the Hog's Back, was still unimpeded. Kilburn, which I knew a little hamlet, had now become a town :-it has its own coaches-its chapel-and, for what I know, its theatre. I had determined to revisit all my old haunts could I neglect my fir-trees? Oh! no! there was something connected with them, which was warmly shedding its bright prospects in my heart, and which was glowing in my memory-with a thrilling sensation of exquisite delight, beyond all other recollections: there was the soul-entrancing remembrance of my early love-the feeling, of all others, dearest to the human heart. Though so many years have elapsed since then, I can still dwell with unmixed pleasure on the moment when I first saw there, she who in after life threw so many rays of joy upon my fleeting hours. Yes, Susan! this tribute to thy worth is but the overflowings of a heart fondly beating with the consciousness of your virtues. I sat upon the rough hewn seat; it was the very spot where I first saw her; well do I remember the moment when she approached, leaning on her brother's arm. He was a day-boy, and the friend of my heart. To him all my griefs were related-and from him I sought for advice and consolation. To him all my joys were imparted, and he was called upon to rejoice with me. Through life our bond of friendship has continued unbroken: our prospects our pursuits have been different; but in trouble, and in joy-in light and in shade— friendship's beam has still shed the same splendid light over our fast flowing tide of life. This was the spot where I passed many happy hours with beloved Susan with nothing to think of but anticipated pleasures, which sometimes withered-in the moment we hoped to grasp them, and in the delightful gratification of the purest and most endearing affection. In life's dreary path, she had been the sun which shone in those hours, which would otherwise have been to me a dark and gloomy solitude, a heart-wounding season of sor

row and disappointment! But those glooms have passed—and now the sun of my life promises to set in an unclouded sky.

I had, one evening, in moonlight, cut the initials of our names in the bark of one of the trees. The trunk had much increased in size, and had almost closed up the incisions I had made: but I could trace the letters, though with difficulty; and so, thought I, in time, will the remembrance of me fade from the world? And in what are we benefitted by the remembrance of the world? Our name (four or five letters) lives in the breath of fame for a few more years, and then is forgotten. What avails a monumental stone ? Like the inscription on a tomb, the initials on the tree have been, perhaps, read a thousand times; and of all who read, how few would know for whom they were meant? and who could judge of us by such a frail memorial? On earth the best monument a man can raise is that which his good deeds set up, and which preserves in heaven's registry a memorial which no storm can destroy, no enmity can sully. These are the fond feelings which have played about my heart when I have before returned to thee, dear spot of my youthful days, when the sun shone only on hopes of joys, and the moon rose on nights of peace. Once more I have returned to thee; I find thee blooming and smiling as when I first left thee: thy heath, thy ponds, thy walks, the same. It is true, where once the path was soli. tary, now often are met a happy group of children, riding on the most honoured, though most despised, of animals. How long has that unhappy race laboured under the charge of obstinate stupidity!

-Obstinate and stupid! What a libel. Go, if you doubt, and see, as I have seen, these creatures gallop over the heath, lively and tractable as a lady's pony. Witness this, and own, as I have done, how wrong it is to abuse one of the most subservient animals in nature: and may Hampstead Heath give you as much pleasure as it has W. HENRY Lance. -European Magazine.

The Selector;

OR.

CHOICE EXTRACTS FROM NEW WORKS

THE VILLAGE OF BROCK, NEAR AMSTERDAM.

THE village of Brock is so remarkable for the neatness of its appearance, as prohably to be unique throughout the world.

The name, according to my companion,

well skilled in the Dutch language, seems to be a corruption from Broekachtig, a Dutch word, signifying marécageux, or marshy, probably descriptive of the original appearance of the spot on which this whimsical settlement stands.

Remarkable as are the Dutch for the cleanliness of their dwellings, this village, even amongst themselves, is considered as a curiosity, and, in fact, it is nothing short of the burlesque.

On our arrival we put up our carriage at the little inn, and, after a slight refreshment, we set out to take our view.

At the entrance into the village is posted up the ancient lex scripta, requiring that every rider, on passing through, should dismount, and lead the animal by its nose; and that no person should smoke in any part of the village without a guard over the ball of the pipe, in order to prevent the ashes from falling out, on pain of forfeiture of the pipe in question.

Such is the purport of the public notice at the entrance into this little miniature town, but, being written in the Dutch language, I was indebted to my companion for the translation. These and many other similar regulations are, as I was informed, still scrupulously observed by the inhabitants. Not a cat or a dog is to be seen loose in the village; and certainly, during my visit here, I did not see one tobacco-pipe without the required guard, and I may almost venture to say that I saw as many tobacco-pipes as male inhabitants.

With respect to the situation of this village, it is built partly round the banks of a small circular lake; but these are the residences of the wealthier inhabitants, and are ornamented in the highest Dutch fashion, with plenty of green, white, and yellow paint, the favourite colours in the exterior of all Dutch houses. The whole appearance of these buildings bespeaks the most minute attention to neatness; the windows are of unsullied brightness; every thing has a shining air of freshness; and the stranger looks in vain for a grain of dirt, or a particle of dust, for these are scarcely to be found upon the ground.

The houses which form the town are small, low, and detached buildings, in perfect Dutch style; and the streets, (if streets they can be called, for the houses are generally built on one side of the road only,) running in serpentine lines, and being paved in mosaic work, with variouscoloured bricks, small round pebbles, or pounded shells, the whole effect is the most exquisitely neat that can be imagined. Along one side of most of these little streets runs a small stream, in a channel

neatly lined with brick on both sides, and supplied with clear water from the lake. The numerous little bridges consequently required afford plenty of opportunities to these natty people for exhibiting their taste in fanciful devices, and in the intermixture of bright colours.

There is also a little spot of a few yards square, which I suppose may be called the public garden, and where the inhabitants of this little colony have exercised their taste and ingenuity over nature, by turning every small tree and shrub into some green monster of earth, air, or water.

Observing that the shutters to the front windows of most of the better sort of houses were generally closed, I endeavoured to ascertain the cause; but I could learn no other reason, than that it was a practice in general use, for the purpose of excluding dust and dirt. These shutters, however, although in the open air, are kept in a high state of polish, and I observed, in some cases, are richly ornamented. On gay occasions they are thrown open.

But there is another custom here, which, for its singularity, deserves particular notice. Almost every house in the village has two entrance doors; one is the common and usual entrance, the other is opened only on two occasions: one to let in the bride and bridegroom after the cele. bration of the marriage ceremony, the other to let them out on their way to their last home; a somewhat unsentimental idea for the bride, on crossing for the first time the threshold of her new residence, but quite characteristic of this phlegmatic people. This door, opening to mark the two most important incidents to which human life is subject, is generally of a black colour, suitable to the solemnity of

the

purpose, and from the glossy brightness which it presents, is no doubt an object of the housewife's daily and peculiar care. This door is also carved with ornamental designs, apparently according to the wealth or consequence of the owner, but it is placed high from the ground, without any step, and without either of those usual appendages of handle or knocker.

Tennant's Tour through Holland, &c.

TEEN TAL, A MANSION IN HINDOSTAN.

TEEN TAL, or three stories, is a house cut out of a solid granite rock, near the temple of Keylas, at Elora, in India.

If Keylas, from its figure, gallery, areas, and insular situation, stands pre-eminent, Teen Tal, from its immensity of excava