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accord fell to embracing one another, and called ali the world their brothers, and vowed they would talk away the misunderstanding between themselves and neighbours; they would not shed blood, they would not go to war.

And this was ever after called the peace of the bishops.

The second deliberative assembly was called the House of Workers. No man could be one of these, who had not made known to the world his wisdomhis justice-his worship of truth for truth's sake. No worker was returned upon the mere chance of his itness. He must be known as an out-door worker or the good of his fellow-men, before he could be sent, an honoured member, to the House. The duty of the assembly was to make laws; and as these were to be made for all men, it was the prime endeavour and striving of the workers to write them in the plainest words, in the briefest meaning. They would debate and work for a whole day-they always assembled with clear heads and fresh spirits every morning at nine-to enshrine their wisdom in the fewest syllables. And whereas, here with us we give our children “Goody Two Shoes ” and “Jack and the Bean Stalk," as the easiest and simplest lessons for their tender minds to fasten on, in As-youlike the little creatures read the Abridgement of the Statutes for their first book; so clear, so lucid, so direct was it in its meaning and its purpose.

Nevertheless, as there were some dull and giddy folk, who, arter all the labour of the House of Workers, could or would not know the laws, there were certain meek and loving-kind professors called goodmen guides, answering to our attorneys, whose delight it was, for the very smarfest imaginable sum, to interpret and make known the power and beauty of the statutes. And whereas among us, physicians and surgeons-may the spirits of chastity and peace consecrate their firesides!—set apart a portion of the day to feel the pulse of stricken poverty, to comfort and solace the maimed and wasting poor-so in Asyou-like, did these goodmen guides give a part of their time to the passionate and ignorant, advising them to abstain from the feverish turmoil of law: showing them how suspense would bake their blood and eat their heart, and wear and weigh down man's noble spirit. And thus these goodmen guides would, I say, with a silken string, lead men back to content and neighbourly adjustment. When men could pay for such counsel, they paid a moderate cost; when they were poor, they were advised, as by the free benevolence of the mediator.

The people of As-you-like had, a thousand years or so before, waged war with other nations. There could be no doubt of it, for the cannon still remained. I saw what at one time had been an arsenal. There were several pieces of artillery; the swallows had built their nests under their very mouths. As I will not disguise anything, I own there were a few persons who when a war was ta ked of, the war so hip

pily prevented by the bishops, strutted and looked big, and with swollen cheeks gabbled about glory. But they were smiled at for their simplicity; advised, corrected by the dominant reason of the country, and, after a time, confessed themselves to be very much ashamed of their past folly.

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Perhaps the manner in which the As-you-likeans transacted business was very strange; it may appear incredible. I was never more surprised than when I first overheard two men dealing for a horse. One was a seller of horses, the other seemed a comfortable yeoman. That is a pretty nag of yours," said the yeoman. Pretty enough outside," said the horse-dealer. "I will give you ten lumps for it," said the farmer (the lump signifying our pound). No, you shall not," answered the horse-dealer, “ for the nag shies and stumbles, and is touched a little in the wind. Nevertheless the thing is worth four lumps." "You have said it?" cried the yeoman. "I have said it," answered the horse-dealer. Understand that this is the only form of oath-if I may so call it-in As-you-like. "You have said it?" "I have said it." Such is the most solemn protestation among all people, from the king to the herdsman.

The shops in As-you-like are very beautiful. All the goods are labelled at a certain price. You want, let us say, a pair of stockings. You enter the shop. The common salutation is "Peace under this roof," and the shopkeeper answers," Peace at your home." You look at the stockings, and laying down the money, take the goods and depart. The tradesman never bends his back in thankfulness until his nose touches the counter; he is in no spasm of politeness; not he; you would think him the buyer and not the seller. I remember being particularly astonished at what I thought the ill-manners of a tradesman, to whom I told my astonishment. What, friend," he said, “ should I do? My neighbour wants a fireshovel-I sell a fire-shovel. If I ought to fling so many thanks at him for buying the fire shovel, should he not first thank me for being here with fire-shovels to sell? Politeness, friend, as you call it, may be very well; but I should somehow suspect the wholesale dealer in it. Where I should carry away so much politeness, I should fear I had short weight." A strange people, you must own, these As-you-like

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Taxation was light, for there was no man idle in As-you-like. Indeed, there was but one tax; it was called the truth-tax, and for this reason: Every man gave in an account of his wealth and goods, and paid in proportion to his substance. There had been no other taxes, but all these were merged into this one tax, by a solemn determination of the House of Virtues. "Since Providence has given to us the greatest measure of its gifts, it has thereby made us the chancellors to poorer men." Upon this avowed principle, the one tax was made. "Would it not be the trick of roguery to do otherwise?" they said. Should we not blush to see the ploughman sweat

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ing at his task, knowing that, squared by his means, he paid more than we? Should we not feel the robbers of the man-not the Virtues banded together to protect him?" And thus, there was but one tax. In former ages there had been many; for I was shown in the national museum of As-you-like, several mummies, dry and coloured like saddle-leather, that in past centuries had been living custom-house officers and excisemen.

There were prisons in As-you-like, in which the idle and the vicious were made to work, and taught the wickedness, the very folly of guilt. As the state, however, with paternal love, watched, I may say it, at the very cradles of the poor,-teaching the pauper as he grew, a self-responsibility; showing to him right and wrong, not permitting to grow up, with at best, an odd, vague notion, a mere guess at black,there were few criminals. The state did not expose its babies-for the poor are its children-to hang them when men.

So dear were the wants of the poor to the rulers of As-you-like, that on one occasion, in a year of scarcity, the monarch sold all his horses-the beautiful cattle went at seventy thousand lumps-and laid out the money in building school-rooms and finding teachers for pauper babies.

And the state, believing man to be something more than a thing of digestion, was always surrounding the people with objects of lpviiness, so that a sense of the beautiful might be with them even as the colour of their blood, and thus might soften and elevate the spirit of man, and teach him true gentleness out of his very admiration of the works of his fellow. Hence, the museums and picture galleries, and abbeys and churches, were all thrown open to the people, who always seemed refined, subdued by the emanations of lovliness around them.

There were very many rich people in As-you-like, but I never knew them to be thought a bit the better off for their money. They were thought fortunate, no more. They were looked upon as men, who, having put into a lottery, had had the luck to draw a prize. As for the poor, they were always treated with a softness of manner that surprised me. The poor man in As-you-like seemed privileged by his property. He seemed to have a stronger claim to the sympathies of those in worldly substance over him. Had a rich man talked brutally, or domineered over, or ill-used a pauper in As-you-like, he would have been looked upon as we look upon a man who beats a woman. There was thought to be a moral cowardice in the act that made its doer despicable. Hence, it was as common in As-youlike to see the rich man first touch his hat to the poor, as with us for the pauper to make preliminary homage to wealth. Then, in As-you-like, no man cared to disguise the smallness of his means. To call a man a pauper was no more than with us to say his eyes are grey or hazel. And though there were poor men, there were no famishing creature, no God's

image, sitting with his bony, idle hands before him, like a maniac in a cage-brutalized, maddened, by the world's selfishness.

THE BACHELOR'S THERMOMETER.

JAMES SMITH,

ÆTATIS 30. Looked back, through a vista of ten years. Remembered that at twenty I looked upon a man of thirty as a middle-aged man; wondered at my error, and protracted the middle age to forty. Said to myself, “Forty is the age of wisdom." Reflected generally upon past life; wished myself twenty again; and exclaimed, “If I were but twenty, what a scholar I would be by thirty! but it's too late now." Looked in the glass; still youthful, but getting rather fat. Young says, "A fool at forty is a fool indeed;" forty, therefore, must be the age of wisdom.

31. Read in the Morning Chronicle that a watchmaker in Paris, aged thirty-one, had shot himself for love. More fool the watchmaker! Agreed that nobody fell in love after twenty. Quoted Sterne, “The expression fall in love, evidently shows love to be beneath a man." Went to Drury lane; saw Miss Crotch in Rosetta, and fell in love with her. Received her ultimatum; none but matrimonians need apply. Was three months making up my mind (a long time for making up such a little parcel), when Kitty Crotch eloped with Lord Buskin. Pretended to be very glad. Took three turns up and down library, and looked in glass. Getting rather fat and florid. Met a friend in Gray's Inn, who said I was evidently in rude health. Thought the compliment ruder than the health.

32. Passion for dancing rather on the decline. Voted sitting out play and farce one of the impossi bilities. Still in stage-box three nights per week. Sympathized with the public in vexation, occasioned by non-attendance the other three: can't please everybody. Began to wonder at the pleasure of kicking one's heels on a chalked floor till four in the morning. Sold bay mare, who reared at three car. riages, and shook me out of the saddle. Thought saddle-making rather worse than formerly. Hair growing thin. Bought a bottle of Tricosian fluid. Mem. "a flattering unction."

33. Hair thinner. Serious thoughts of a wig. Met Colonel Buckhorse, who wears one. Devil in a bush. Serious thoughts of letting it alone. Met a fellow Etonian in the Green Park, who told me I wore well; wondered what he could mean. Gave up cricket-club, on account of the bad air about Paddington; could not run in it without being out of breath.

34. Measured for a new coat. Tailor proposed fresh measure, hinting something about bulk. Old measure too short; parchment shrinks. Shortened my morning ride to Hampstead and Highgate, and

wondered what people could see at Hendon. Determined not to marry; means expensive, end dubious. Counted eighteen bald heads in the pit at the opera. So much the better; the more the merrier.

35. Tried on an old greatcoat, and found it an old little one; cloth shrinks as well as parchment. Red face in putting on shoes. Bought a shoe-horn. Remember quizzing my uncle George for using one; then young and foolish. Brother Charles' wife lay-in of her eighth child. Served him right for marrying at twenty-one; age of discretion too! Hunting-belts for gentlemen hung up in glover's windows. Longed to buy one, but two women in shop cheapening mittens. Three gray hairs in left eye-brow.

36. Several gray hairs in whiskers; all owing to carelessness in manufactory of shaving-soap. Remember thinking my father an old man at thirty-six. Settled the point! Men grew old sooner in former days. Laid blame upon flapped waistcoats and tiewigs. Skated on the Serpentine. Gout. Very fool. ish exercise. only fit for boys. Gave skates to Charles' eldest son.

37. Fell in love again. Rather pleased to find myself not too old for the passion. Emma only nineteen. What then? Women require protectors; day settled: devilishly frightened; too late to get off. Luckily jilted. Emma married George Parker one day before me. Again determined never to marry. Turned off old tailor, and took to new one in Bond street. Some of those fellows make a man look ten years younger. Not that that was the reason.

38. Stuck rather more to dinner-parties. Gave up country.dancing. Money-musk certainly more fatiguing than formerly. Fiddlers play it too quick. Quadrilles stealing hither over the Channel. Thought of adding to number of grave gentlemen who learn to dance. Dick Dapper dubbed me one of the overgrowns. Very impertinent, and utterly untrue.

39. Quadrilles rising. Wondered sober mistresses of families would allow their carpets to be beat after that fashion. Dinner-parties increasing. Found myself gradually Tontincing it towards top of table. Dreaded Ultima Thule of hostess's elbow. Good places for cutting turkeys; bad for cutting jokes. Wondered why I was always desired to walk up. Met two school-fellows at Pimlico; both fat and redfaced. Used to say at school that they were both of my age; what lies boys tell!

40. Look back ten years. Remember, at thirty, thinking forty a middle-aged man. Must have meant fifty. Fifty certainly the age of wisdom. Determined to be wise in ten years. Wished to learn music and Italian. Tried Logier. 'Twould not do. No defect of capacity, but those things should be learned in childhood.

41. New furnished chambers. Looked in new glass; one chin too much. Looked in other new glass; chin stil double. Art of glass-making on the decline. Sold my horse, and wondered people could

find any pleasure in being bumped. What were legs made for?

42. Gout again; that disease certainly attacks young people more than formerly. Caught myself at a rubber of whist, and blushed. Tried my hand at original composition, and found a hankering after epigram and satire. Wondered I could ever write love-sonnets. Imitated Horace's ode, "Ne sit ancilla." Did not mean anything serious, though Susan certainly civil and attentive.

43. Bought a hunting-belt. Braced myself up till ready to burst. Intestines not to be trifled with: threw it aside. Young men now-a-days much too small in the waist. Read in Morning Post an advertisement "Pills to prevent Corpulency;" bought a box. Never the slimmer, though much the sicker. 44. Met Fanny Stapleton, now Mrs. Meadows, at Bullock's Museum. Twenty-five years ago wanted to marry her. What an escape! Women certainly age much sooner than men. Charles' eldest boy began to think himself a man. Starched cravat and a What presumption! At his age I was a

cane.

child.

45. A few wrinkles about the eyes, commonly called crow's feet. Must have caught cold. Began to talk politics, and shirk the drawing-room. Eulo gized Garrick; saw nothing in Kean. Talked of Lord North. Wondered at the licentiousness of the modern press. Why can't people be civil, like Junius and John Wilkes, in the good old times?

46. Rather on the decline, but still handsome, and interesting. Growing dislike to the company of young men; all of them talk too much or too little. Began to call chambermaids at inns " My dear." Listened to a howl from Capt. Querulous about family expenses, price of bread and butcher's meat. Did not care a jot if bread was a shilling a roll, and butcher's meat fifty pounds a calf. Hugged myself in "single blessedness."

47. Top of head quite bald. Pleaded Lord Grey in justification. Shook it, on reflecting that I was but three years removed from the "Age of Wisdom." Teeth sound, but not so white as heretofore. Something the matter with the dentifrice. Began to be cautious in chronology. Bad thing to remember too far back. Had serious thoughts of not remembering Miss Farren.

48. Quite settled not to remember Miss Farren. Told Laura Willis that Palmer, who died when I was nineteen, certainly did not look forty-eight.

49. Resolved never to marry for anything but money or rank.

50. Age of wisdom. Married my cook.

THE SPINSTER'S PROGRESS.

THEODORE HOOK.

At 15. Dimpled cheeks, sparkling eyes, coral lips, and ivory teeth-a sylph in figure. All anxiety for

coming out-looks about her with an arch yet timid expression, and blushes amazingly upon the slightest provocation.

16. Bolder and plumper-draws, sings, plays the harp, dines at table when there are small partiesgets fond of plays, to which she goes in a private box-dreams of a hero-hates her governess-is devoted to poetry.

17. Having no mother who values herself on her youth, is presented by an aunt-first terrified, then charmed. Comes out-Almack's-opera-begins to flirt-selects the most agreeable but most objection able man in the room as the object of her affections -he, eminently pleasant, but dreadfully poor-talks of love in a cottage, and a casement window all over woodbine.

18. Discards the sighing swain, and fancies herself desperately devoted to a Lancer, who has amused himself by praising her perfections. Delights in fêtes and déjeûners-dances herself into half a consumption. Becomes an intimate friend of Henry's sister

19. Votes Henry stupid-too fond of himself to care for her talks a little louder than the year before-takes care to show that she understands the best-concealed bon-môts of the French plays-shows off her bright eyes, and becomes the centre of four satellites who flicker round her.

20.

Begins to wonder why none of the sighers propose-gets a little peevish-becomes a politician -rallies the Whigs-avows Toryism-all women are Tories, except two or three who may be anything gets praised beyond measure by her partydiscards Italian music, and sings party songs-called charming, delightful, and "so natural."

21. Enraptured with her new system-pursues it with redoubled ardour—takes to riding constantly on horseback-canters every day half way to the House of Lords with the dear earl, through St. James' Park by the side of her uncle-makes up parties and excursions becomes a comet instead of a star, and changes her satellites for a Tail, by which she is followed as regularly as the great Agitator is. Sees her name in the papers as the proposer of pic-nics and the patroness of fancy fairs.

22. Pursues the same course-autumn comescountry-house-large party of shooting men-juxtaposition--constant association-sociability in the evening-sportive gambols-snug suppers-an offer.which being made by the only dandy she did not care about in the mêlée, she refuses.

23. Regrets it tries to get him back-he won't come, but marries a rich grocer's widow for her money. Takes to flirting desperately-dresses fantastically tries a new style of singing-affects a taste--lives with the Italians, calls them divine and charming-gets her uncle to give suppers.

24. Thinks she has been too forward-retires, and becomes melancholy-affects sentiment, and writes verses in an Annual-makes acquaintances with the

savans, and the authors and authoresses-wonders she is not married.

25. Goes abroad with her uncle ana a delightfu family-so kind and so charming-stays the year there.

26. Comes home full of new airs and gracesmore surprised than ever that she is still single, and begins to fancy she could live very comfortably, if not in a cottage, at least upon a very moderate scale. 27. Thinks the conversation of rational men infinitely preferable to flirting.

28. Looks at matrimony as desirable in the way of an establishment, in case of the death of her uncle-leaves off dancing generally-talks of getting

old.

29. Same system-still ineffective-still talks of getting aged--surprised that men do not laugh as they did, when she said so a year or two before. 30. Begins to inquire when a spinster becomes an old maid.

31. Dresses more fantastically than ever-rouges a little-country-house not so agreeable as it used to be-goes everywhere in town - becomes goodnatured to young girls, and joins in acting charades and dumb proverbs.

32. Hates balls, or, if she goes to them, likes to sit still and talk to clever middle-aged gentlemen. 33. Wonders why men of sense prefer flirting with girls to the enjoyment of rational conversation with sensible women.

34. Uncle dies-break-up of establishment-remains with her aunt-feels old enough to go about without a chaperon.

35. Takes to cards, where they are played-gives up harp, pianoforte, and singing-beaten out of the field by her juniors.

36. Quarrels with her cousin, who is just married to the prize marquis of the season--goes into Wales on a visit to a distant relation.

37. Returns to London-tries society-fancies herself neglected, and "never goes out "-makes up little tea-parties at her aunt's-very pleasant to everybody else, but never satisfactory to herself.

38. Feels delight in recounting all the unhappy marriages she can recollect-takes a boy out of an orphan-school, dresses him up in a green jacket, with three rows of sugar-loaf buttons, and calls him a page -patronizes a poet.

39. Gets fractious-resolves upon making the best of it-turns gourmand-goes to every dinner to which she is or is not invited-relishes port wine; laughs at it as a good joke-stays in London all the year.

40. Spasmodic- camphor-julip —a little more rouge-fancies herself in love with a captain in the Guards-lets him know it-he not susceptible-she uncommonly angry-makes up a horrid story about him and some poor innocent girl of her acquaint ance-they are eternally parated by her meansshe happy.

41. Takes to wearing “a front”—port wine gets more popular—avows a resolution never to marry— who would sacrifice her liberty?-quite sure she has seen enough of that sort of thing-Umph!

42. Turns moralist-is shocked at the vices of the world-establishes a school out of the produce of a fancy fair-subscribes-consults with the rectorexcellent man-he endeavors to dissuade her from an extravagant course of proceeding which she has adopted—her regard turns to hate, and she puts her." self under the spiritual guidance of a Ranter.

43 Learns the Unknown Tongues, and likes them-sees none of her old friends-continues during the whole season enveloped in her new devotion. Her page, having outgrown his green inexpressibles, is dismissed at the desire of her new pastor.

44. Renounces the Oly Oly Bom school of piety, and gets a pug and a poodle-meets the man she refused when she was two-and-twenty-he grown plump and jolly, driving his wife and two great healthy-looking boys, nearly men; and two lovely girls, nearly women-recollects him-he does not remember her-wishes the family at Old Nickcomes home and pinches her poodle's ears.

45. Returns to cards at the Dowager's parties, and smells to snuff if offered her.

46. Her aunt dies.

47. Lives upon her relations; but by the end of the season feels assured that she must do something else next year.

48. Goes into the country and selects a cousin, plain and poor--proposes they should live together -scheme succeeds.

49. Retires to Cheltenham-house in a row near the promenade — subscribes to everything - takes snuff and carries a box-all in fun-goes out to tea in a fly--plays whist--loses-comes back at elevencamphor-julep, and to bed--but not to sleep.

50. Finds all efforts to be comfortable unavailing, vents all her spleen upon her unhappy cousin, and lavishes all her affections upon a tabby cat, a great, fat, useless Tommy, with a blue riband and a bell round its neck. And there, so far as I have traced it, ends my Spinster's progress up to fifty.

THE HALL OF EBLIS
WILLIAM BECKFORD-"VATHEK."

A deathlike stillness reigned over the mountain and through the air. The moon dilated on a vast platform, the shades of the lofty columns which reached from the terrace almost to the clouds. The gloomy watch-towers, whose number could not be counted, were covered by no roof; and their capitals, of an architecture unknown in the records of the earth, served as an asylum for the birds of night, which, alarmed at the approach of such visitants, fled away croaking.

The chief of the eunuchs, trembling with fear,

besought Vathek that a fire might be kindled. "No," replied he, "there is no time left to think of such trifles: abide where thou art, and expect my commands." Having thus spoken he presented his hand to Nouronihar, and, ascending the steps of a vast staircase, reached the terrace, which was flagged witn squares of marble, and resembled a smooth expanse of water, upon whose surface not a blade of grass. ever cared to vegetate. On the right rose the watchtowers, ranged before the ruins of an immense palace, whose walls were embossed with various figures. In front stood forth the colossal forms of four creatures, composed of the leopard and the griffin, and though but of stone, inspired emotions of terror. Near these were distinguished, by the splendor of the moon, which streamed full on the place, characters like those on the sabres of the Giaour, and which possessed the same virtue of changing every moment. These, after vacillating for some time, fixed at last in Arabic letters, and prescribed to the Caliph the following words: "Vathek! thou hast violated the co... ditions of my parchment, and deservest to be sent back; but in favor to thy companion, and, as the meed for what thou hast done to obtain it, Eblis permitteth that the portal of his palace shall be opened, and the subterranean fire will receive thee into the number of its adorers."

He scarcely had read these words before the mountain against which the terrace was reared trembled, and the watch-towers were ready to topple headlong upon them. The rock yawned, and disclosed within it a staircase of polished marble, that seemed to approach the abyss. Upon each stair were planted two large torches, like those Nouronihar had seen in her vision, the camphorated vapour of which ascended and gathered itself into a cloud under the hollow of the vault. . .

The caliph and Nouronihar beheld each other with amazement at finding themselves in a place which, though roofed with a vaulted ceiling, was so spacious and lofty that at first they took it for an immeasurable plain. But their eyes at length growing famil iar to the grandeur of the surrounding objects, they extended their view to those at a distance, and discovered rows of columns and arcades which gradually diminished till they terminated in a point radiant as the sun when he darts his last beams athwart the ocean. The pavement, strewed over with gold-dust and saffron, exhaled so subtle an odor as almost overpowered them. They, however, went on, and observed an infinity of censers, in which ambergris and the wood of aloes were continually burning. Between the several columns were placed tables, each spread with a profusion of viands, and wines of every species sparkling in vases of crystal. A throng of genii and other fantastic spirits of either sex danced lasciviously at the sound of music which issued from beneath.

In the midst of this immense hall, a vast multitude was incessantly passing, who severally kept their

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