large families cannot fail of getting on well, for in America children are more precious than gold. In finishing this account of my ramble, I cannot help being struck with the meagreness of my acquisitions. I kept no diary, however; I was a hard-working pedestrian, and allowed the scenes of my travels to find their way into my mind as they could, and thoughts stowed in such hidden places are only brought to light by chance. Even now, as I am laying down my pen, a hundred persons and things rise up like spirits to reproach me for having omitted mention of them; and I can only hope that two or three more corners may be allotted me in these pages, for a sketch of some isolated scenes and characters peculiar to the humble life of America, and unlikely to present themselves to the book-making traveller. MEN OF THE WORLD. [Abridged from 'Literary Leaves,' by D. L. Richardson.] THERE is a great difference between the power of giving good advice and the ability to act upon it. Theoretical wisdom is perhaps rarely associated with practical wisdom; and we often find that men of no talent whatever contrive to pass through life with credit and propriety, under the guidance of a kind of instinct. These are the persons who seem to stumble by mere good luck upon the philosopher's stone. In the commerce of life, everything they touch seems to turn into gold. of contempt. In the great majority of cases, nothing can be more ridiculous and unjust. In the list of the prosperous, there are very few indeed who owe their advancement to talent and sagacity alone. The majority must attribute good fortune; and there are many who are still more intheir rise to a combination of industry, prudence, and debted to the lucky accidents of life than to their own character or conduct. Perhaps not only the higher intellectual gifts, but even the finer moral emotions, are an encumbrance to the fortune-hunter. A gentle disposition and extreme frankness and generosity have been the ruin, in a worldly sense, of many a noble spirit. There is a degree of cautiousness and mistrust, and a certain insensibility and sternness, that seem essential to the man who has to bustle through the world and secure his own interests. He cannot turn aside, and indulge in generous sympathies, without neglecting in some measure his own affairs. It is like a pedestrian's progress through a crowded street; he cannot pause for a moment, or look to the right or left, without increasing his own obstructions. When time and business press hard upon him, the cry of affliction on the road-side is unheeded and forgotten. He acquires a habit of indifference to all but the one thing needful-his own success. I shall not here speak of those by-ways to success in life which require only a large share of hypocrisy and meanness; nor of those insinuating manners and frivolous accomplishments which are so often better rewarded than worth or genius; nor of the arts by which a brazen-faced adventurer sometimes throws a modest and meritorious rival into the shade. Nor shall I proceed to show how great a drawback is a noble sincerity in the commerce of the world. The memorable scene between Gil Blas and the archbishop of Toledo is daily and nightly re-acted on the great stage of life. I cannot enter upon minute particulars, or touch upon all the numerous branches of my subject, without exceeding the limits I have proposed to myself in the present essay. We are apt to place the greatest confidence in the advice of the successful, and none at all in that of the unprosperous, as if fortune never favoured fools nor neglected the wise. A man may have more intellect than does him good, for it tempts him to meditate and to compare, when he should act with rapidity and decision; and by trusting too much to his own sagacity, and too little to fortune, he often loses many a golden opportunity, that is Perhaps a knowledge of the world, in the ordinary aclike a prize in the lottery to his less brilliant competitors. ceptation of the phrase, may mean nothing more than a It is not the men of thought, but the men of action, who knowledge of conventionalisms, or a familiarity with the are best fitted to push their way upwards in the world. forms and ceremonials of society. This, of course, is of The Hamlets or philosophical speculators are out of their easy acquisition when the mind is once bent upon the element in the crowd. They are wise enough as reflecting task. The practice of the small proprieties of life to a observers, but the moment they descend from their soli- congenial spirit soon ceases to be a study; it rapidly betary elevation, and mingle with the thick throng of their comes a mere habit, or an untroubled and unerring infellow-creatures, there is a sad discrepancy between their stinct. This is always the case when there is no sedentary dignity as teachers and their conduct as actors; their labour by the midnight lamp to produce an ungainly stoop wisdom in busy life evaporates in words; they talk like in the shoulders, and a conscious defect of grace and sages, but they act like fools. There is an essential diffe-pliancy in the limbs; and when there is no abstract rence between those qualities that are necessary for success in the world, and those that are required in the closet. Bacon was the wisest of human beings in his quiet study, but when he entered the wide and noisy theatre of life, he sometimes conducted himself in way of which he could have admirably pointed out the impropriety in a moral essay. He knew as well as any man that honesty is the best policy, but he did not always act as if he thought so. The fine intellect of Addison could trace with subtlety and truth all the proprieties of social and of public life, but he was himself deplorably inefficient both as a companion and as a statesman. A more delicate and accurate observer of human life than the poet Cowper is not often met with, though he was absolutely incapable of turning his knowledge and good sense to a practical account, and when he came to act for himself, was as helpless and dependent as a child. The excellent author of the Wealth of Nations could not manage the economy of his own house. People who have sought the advice of successful men of the world, have often experienced a feeling of surprise and disappointment when listening to their commonplace maxims and weak and barren observations. There is very frequently the same discrepancy, though in the opposite extreme, between the words and the actions of prosperous men of the world that I have noticed in the case of unsuccessful men of wisdom. The former talk like fools, but they act like men of sense; the reverse is the case with the latter. The thinkers may safely direct the movements of other men, but they do not seem peculiarly fitted to direct their own. They who bask in the sunshine of prosperity are generally inclined to be so ungrateful to fortune as to attribute all their success to their own exertions, and to season their pity for their less successful friends with some degree thought or poetic vision to dissipate the attention, and blind us to the trivial realities that are passing immediately around us. Some degree of vanity and a perfect selfpossession are absolutely essential; but high intellect is only an obstruction. There are some who seem born for the boudoir and the ball-room, while others are as little fitted for fashionable society as a fish is for the open air and the dry land. They who are more familiar with books than with men, cannot look calm and pleased when their souls are inwardly perplexed. The almost venial hypocrisy of politeness is the more criminal and disgusting in their judgment, on account of its difficulty to themselves, and the provoking ease with which it appears to be adopted by others. The loquacity of the forward, the effeminate affectation of the foppish, and the sententiousness of shallow gravity, excite a feeling of contempt and weariness that they have neither the skill nor the inclination to conceal. A recluse philosopher is unable to return a simple salutation without betraying his awkwardness and uneasiness to the quick eye of a man of the world. He exhibits a ludicrous mixture of humility and pride. He is indignant at the assurance of others, and is mortified at his own timidity. He is vexed that he should suffer those whom he feels to be his inferiors to enjoy a temporary superiority. He is troubled that they should be able to trouble him, and ashamed that they should make him ashamed. Such a man, when he enters into society, brings all his pride, but leaves his vanity behind him. Pride allows our wounds to remain exposed, and makes them doubly irritable; but vanity, as Sancho says of sleep, seems to cover a man all over as with a cloak. A contemplative spirit cannot concentrate its attention on minute and uninteresting ceremonials, and a sense of unfitness for society makes the most ordinary of its duties a painful task. There are some authors who would rather write a quarto volume in praise of woman, than hand a fashionable lady to her chair. The foolish and formal conversation of polite life is naturally uninteresting to the retired scholar; but it would, perhaps, be less objectionable if he thought he could take a share in it with any degree of credit. He has not the feeling of calm and unmixed contempt; there is envy and irritation in his heart. He cannot despise his fellowcreatures, nor be wholly indifferent to their good opinion. Whatever he may think of their manners and conversation, his uneasiness evinces that he does not feel altogether above or independent of them. No man likes to seem unfit for the company he is in. At Rome, every man would be a Roman. * * * The axioms most familiar to men of the world are passed from one tongue to another without much reflection. They are merely parroted. Some critics have thought that the advice which Polonius, in the tragedy of Hamlet, gives his son on his going abroad, exhibits a degree of wisdom wholly inconsistent with the general character of that weak and foolish old man. But in this case, as in most others of a similar nature, we find, on closer consideration, that what may seem at the first glance an error or oversight of Shakspeare's, is only another illustration of his accurate knowledge of human life. The precepts which the old man desires to fix in the mind of Laertes are just such as he might have heard a hundred thousand times in his long passage through the world. They are not brought out from the depths of his own soul; they have only fastened themselves on his memory, and are much nearer to his tongue than to his heart. No one is surprised at the innumerable wise saws and proverbial phrases that issue from the lips of the most silly and ignorant old women in all ranks of life, in town and country, in cottages and in courts. In the conversation of the weakest-minded persons we often find, as in that of Polonius, both matter and impertinency mixed.' His advice is not that of a philosopher, but of a courtier and man of the world. He echoes the common wisdom of his associates: Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.' He is indebted to his court education for this mean and heartless maxim. To listen eagerly to the communications of others, and to conceal his own thoughts, is the first lesson that a courtier learns. Let us quote another specimen of his paternal admonitions: Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.' Polonius might have picked up this marvellous scrap of prudence in some petty tradesman's shop; not, however, in a pawnbroker's, for the sign of which it would form a very forbidding motto. There are a few precepts in the parting advice of Polonius of a somewhat higher character; but they are only such as float about the world, and are repeated on occasion by all well-intentioned people. They are not of that high and original cast which Shakspeare would have put into the mouth of Hamlet, or any other thoughtful and noble-hearted personage. It seems paradoxical to affirm that men who are out of the world know more of the philosophy of its movements than those who are in it; but it is nevertheless perfectly true, and easily accounted for. The busy man is so rapidly whirled about in the vast machine, that he has not leisure to observe its motion. An observer stationed on a hill that overlooks a battle can see more distinctly the operations of either army than the combatants themselves. They who have attained success by mere good fortune, are particularly ill-fitted to direct and counsel others who are struggling through the labyrinths of life. A shrewd observer who has touched the rocks, is a better pilot than he who has passed through a difficult channel in ignorance of its dangers. The extent of a person's knowledge of mankind is not to be calculated by the number of his years. The old, indeed, are always wise in their own estimation, and eagerly volunteer advice, which is not in all cases as eagerly received. The stale preparatory sentence of, When you have come to my years,' &c. is occasionally a prologue to the wearisome farce of second childhood. A Latin proverb says that 'experience teacheth.' It sometimes * Opinion. does so, but not always. Experience cannot confer natural sagacity, and without that, it is nearly useless, It is said to be an axiom in natural history, that a cat will never tread again the road on which it has been beaten; but this has been disproved in a thousand experiments. It is the same with mankind. A weak-minded man, let his years be few or numerous, will no sooner be extricated from a silly scrape, than he will fall again into the same difficulty in the very same way. Nothing is more common than for old women (of either sex) to shake with a solemn gravity their thin gray hairs, as if they covered a repository of gathered wisdom, when perchance some clear and lively head upon younger shoulders has fifty times the knowledge with less than half the pretension. We are not always wise in proportion to our opportunites of acquiring wisdom, but according to the shrewdness and activity of our observation. Nor is a man's fortune in all cases an unequivocal criterion of the character of his intellect or his knowledge of the world. Men in business acquire a habit of guarding themselves very carefully against the arts of those with whom they are brought in contact in their commercial transactions; but they are, perhaps, better versed in goods and securities than in the human heart. They wisely trust a great deal more to law papers than to 'the human face divine,' or any of those indications of character which are so unerringly perused by a profound observer. A great dramatic poet can lift the curtain of the human heart; but mere men of business must act always in the dark, and, taking it for granted that every individual, whatever his ostensible character, may be a secret villain, they will have no transactions with their fellow-creatures until they have made assurance doubly sure,' and secured themselves from the possibility of roguery and imposition. They carry this habit of caution and mistrustfulness to such a melancholy extreme, that they will hardly lend a guinea to a father or a brother without a regular receipt. They judge of all mankind by a few wretched exceptions. Lawyers have a similar tendency to form partial and unfavourable opinions of their fellow-creatures, because they come in contact with the worst specimens of humanity, and see more of the dark side of life than other men. all classes of men, perhaps the members of the medical profession have the best opportunity of forming a fair and accurate judgment of mankind in general, and it is gratifying to know that none have a higher opinion of human nature. It is observable that men are very much disposed to 'make themselves the measure of mankind;' or, in other words, when they paint their fellow-creatures, to dip their brush in the colours of their own heart. All seems infected that the infected spy, As all seems yellow to the jaundiced eye.' On the other hand, a frank and noble spirit observes the world by the light of its own nature; and indeed all who have studied mankind without prejudice or partiality, and with a wide and liberal observation, have felt that man is not altogether unworthy of being formed after the image of his Maker. ticular professions to indurate the heart and limit or warp Though I have alluded to the tendency of some parthe judgment, I should be sorry, indeed, if the remarks that I have ventured upon this subject should be regarded as an avowal of hostility towards any class whatever of my fellow-creatures. I should be guilty of a gross absurdity and injustice, if I did not readily admit that intellect and virtue are not confined to one class or excluded from creatures of circumstance; but there is no condition of life another. Men are, generally speaking, very much the in which the soul has not sometimes asserted her independence of all adventitious distinctions; and there is no trade or profession in which we do not meet with men who are an honour to human nature. THE RATIONALE OF RAILWAY CHARGES. Another point in dispute is the treatment of third-class passengers. There is no one matter on which a greater display of pseudo-humanity is made than on this. Many persons do not like to confess that they travel in thirdclass coaches to save their money, and, moreover, they very naturally wish the third-class carriages should be made as comfortable as possible. Now, if people, by ma * There are some few professions, indeed, in which success is a pretty certain indication of learning or of genius. nifesting great humanity to the poor, can at the same time save their own money, and make themselves more comfortable, the display of tenderness is likely to be abundant. Third-class carriages, which certainly are more comfortable than outside seats on coaches, are called 'pig-boxes,' in order to teach the poor man that he is insulted' by being told to get into one. Having carried his bundle a couple of miles (for poor people do not employ porters), he is 'contemptuously treated' when desired to put it into the wagon. At one time there had been several accidents from trains being run into from behind, and practical men entertained conflicting opinions as to whether there was most danger to be apprehended from this source or from the engine running off the rails. On those lines where the speed was very great and the gauge wide, accidents to slow trains from collision from behind seemed the most probable, and the passenger-carriage was therefore placed in front of the train. This was represented as a scheme for preventing people using that carriage at all, and was called a disgraceful and monstrous plan of intimidating the poorer class of passengers.' If the directors had really wished to compel passengers to use the dear instead of the cheap carriage, they would have easily attained it by the very simple expedient of taking off the third-class carriage altogether. But where authors are engaged in pandering to the passions of the multitude, they prefer imputing to individuals the most incredible and useless wickedness, rather than admit a commonplace explanation. The coaches between London and Bristol were fourteen hours on the road, the stage wagons two and a half days; the much-abused slow trains on the Great Western perform the same journey in nine and a half hours. The injury and indignity shown by the railway company to the poor consists, then, in enabling them to perform this journey in two-thirds of the time formerly required by the rich, and one-sixth of the time they themselves would have spent. Yet, in defiance of these facts, we hear those who had neither sense nor enterprise to forward these great undertakings now turning round on their benefactors, and describing as an insult and injury one of the greatest boons ever conferred on the poorer classes. As to the outside of a coach in bad weather, that is, nine times out of ten, it was one of the most disagreeable modes of locomotion ever devised, an American stage over a corduroy road being the worst. After some winters spent in Sweden, Mr Laing declared that he had never suffered so much from cold as when travelling in England on the tops of coaches. It is all very well for authors to describe in glowing terms the miseries and insults to which third-class passengers on railways are exposed. The reality is quite the reverse. Otherwise how should we hear at railway meetings the reiterated and piteous complaints of directors that the rich will persist in going into these vehicles; merchants, bankers, dignitaries of the church, members of parliament, gentlemen who have no predilection for being miserable, and no notion at all of exposing themselves to insult, button up their coats (and pockets), and ask for third-class tickets. There is nothing more impossible than to provide for the poor those comforts which the wealth of the rich enables them to command; there is a higher agency concerned in this than even railway directors. There are some gentlemen who advocate very strongly the propriety of covering over third-class carriages, and others who comment pretty severely on the inhumanity of directors in exposing the poor to the merciless severity of the blast of winter. If this reasoning is sound, why is it not applied to the proprietors of stage-coaches? Is Mr Purcell a wretch, because he does not provide a covering for his outside passengers? or is Mr Croal a brute, because he does not find inside places for those who pay outside fares? Deck passengers in a steamer on a rough night are worse off than third-class passengers on a railway. They are never invited into the cabin with cabin passengers, and yet the St George Steam-packet Company divide their gains, without fearing a leading article in the Times. There is nothing on railways different from this, that all the rules of trading should be reversed, and that people should argue that the poor man who pays 2s. 6d. should receive the same accommodation as the richer man who pays 3s. 6d. For civility, punctuality, and general regularity, the railway system is far beyond anything ever known.-Fraser's Magazine. [This is a just and praiseworthy defence of the railway proprietors. The difference between railway and stage coach travelling is nearly all the difference between civilisation and barbarism. In the one case, a passenger feels that he is under the care of the most enlightened class of his fellow-creatures; what he too often feels in the other case, it is needless to specify. And this is simply because railway travelling arrangements are on such a large and liberal scale, as to allow of a superior class of officials being employed. What is said here about third-class trains is perfectly true. The shabby rich, by the disposition they show to make use of these trains, are the sole cause of their being made less comfortable than they otherwise would need to be. We have been astounded to hear that men worth scores of thousands have not scrupled to use thirdclass carriages on the Greenock Railway: some have even purchased camp-stools on which to seat themselves in these carriages. It should be held up to universal contempt, as a practice not only mean in itself, but inhumane, as it tends to deprive the poor of comforts that otherwise would flow to them.] METALLIZATION OF WOOD. Of the several patented processes for rendering wood thoroughly impervious to rot, the ravages of insects, and the action of fire, that of Mr Payne is considered by competent judges as one of the most effectual. The merit of the invention-according to the Polytechnic Magazine, from which we take the substance of our notice-consists in the circumstance, that it does not merely impregnate timber with metallic preparations, but by means of chemical decomposition actually fossilizes, so to speak, the substance acted upon; and by a combination of agencies, all of them quite inconsiderable in point of cost, creates of the wood an entirely new insoluble, durable, and uninflammable matter. If these results can be obtained at a small expense and in a short period, and the metallized wood be rendered elastic or non-clastic as required, and be so granulated externally and internally as to adapt it with perfect safety for pavements and other purposes, a complete revolution may be reasonably anticipated in some of the most important branches of industry. For instance, it would be of immense utility in countries where houses are built of wood; it would greatly diminish casualties by fire, increase the value of timber-forests in the vicinity of railways and other similar undertakings, and indeed affect the modus operandi of every profession connected with engineering, ship-building, and carpentry. The process consists in placing the timber to be operated upon first in a vacuum in a solution of sulphate of iron, which is made thoroughly to saturate it by exhaustion and pressure. A similar mode is then followed with a solution of the muriate of lime, and within the pores of the wood there is thus created, by decomposition, an insoluble sulphate of lime. It therefore appears that the principle acted upon by the inventor was, that the source of decay exists in the very nature and properties of the wood itself, and that a complete change must be effected in its structure by the permeation of a substance capable of resisting external influences and arresting internal decay. By previously-discovered processes, various metallic oxides (the expensive ones of mercury and copper) and alkalies had been, by means of exhaustion and pressure, introduced into the cells of the wood; but it was reserved for Mr Payne to overcome an objection common to all these processes; namely, the liability to a disunion of the solutions. This difficulty is met by the introduction of certain saline substances which prevent any such disunion taking place; and herein consists much of the merit of the patent. The most porous, the softest, and consequently the cheapest woods, continues our authority, under this process, are rendered equal, in point of usefulness, durability, and strength, to the hardest and best descriptions of timber. Not only is the beech rendered equal to the oak, but made to partake of metallic qualities even more lasting than timber which at present is threefold its price. Wood so prepared--even deal---becomes susceptible of the finest polish; and moreover, by the use of certain solutions, can be stained throughout with any variety of colour. In shipbuilding and in house-building it would come into advantageous use, with the peculiar recommendation that the inferior woods of home and colonial growth would become at once more valuable in the market. Perhaps the most important fact connected with Paynized timber is its applicability not only for railway sleepers, but actually as a substitute for iron rails, for which purpose it is now being tested on several lines, and so far as experiment goes, promises to be preferable to iron, offering nearly as little friction, and presenting a better bite to the wheels, which enables the engines to mount inclinations impossible on an iron railway. The discovery has also attracted the attention of the Commissioners of Woods and Forests, under whose direction a set of experiments are now being made, with a view to the adoption of the metallized timber in the various works executed under government. THE ARBORETUM AT DERBY. Amidst the benefactors of the human race, none stand more conspicuous than the late Joseph Strutt, Esq. who, with an effective liberality and determined kindness, was spared to commence, carry on, and complete this (emphatically speaking) garden of the poor. I visited it on Sunday evening, the 21st of April last-the gardens being open only in the afternoon. I observed a happy seriousness on the countenances of the visitors-a subdued enjoyment which spoke volumes in favour of the judgment of the nobleminded man who had thus provided the means of bringing the works of the Almighty under the eye of those who all the week are busily engaged in earning their daily bread. Parents, with their children of various ages, might be seen quietly sitting on the many substantial seats provided for them under the shade of trees, or strolling on the walks admiring the early flowers on the shrubs; all the shrubs have a name attached to them, very conspicuous, yet not so as to be offensive to the fastidious eye. It was amusing to see the children of ten years trying to read, no doubt to them hard names, and puzzling their little heads to make them out. I remarked the good behaviour of those 'children of the poor,' as, amidst the many hundreds that were in the garden, I only observed one instance of rudeness, in two boys throwing stones at each other. It was instantly checked by the elder people, and the boys slunk away ashamed of their conduct. The garden was, as is generally known, laid out by the late Mr Loudon, and the execution of his task does credit even to him. Broad substantial walks lead down the centre, branching off diagonally, and returning up each side in a serpentine form. They are hid from each other by raised mounds of various forms, sufficiently high to prevent persons seeing over. The named specimens stand singly on the grass, at such a distance from each other as their various habits as to size and form will require when fully grown. They are, consequently, conspicuous objects, and draw attention even from the most heedless. In the ground, previously to its being laid out, there were some larger trees; these are judiciously preserved, and seats are placed under them. It is, I think, however, an oversight that these our common trees are not named. That the people pay attention to the names, was evident from the fact, that the early flowering shrubs, such as ribes, prunus, &c. were crowded by even well-dressed elderly persons, who were reading the names, and, in some instances, copying them. I would just observe, en passant, that the labels contain the botanical name, English name, native country, and year of introduction. As a means of refining the manners, elevating the taste, and subduing evil propensities, giving the lower orders an innocent and rational amusement, and even instruction, the Derby Arboretum is much to be admired. I came away delighted at the good effects it had produced even already, although it is scarcely three years since the gardens were completed. -Correspondent of Gardeners' Chronicle. THE FOLLIES OF MANKIND. I have observed one ingredient somewhat necessary in a man's composition towards happiness, which people of feeling would do well to acquire a certain respect for the follies of mankind; for there are so many fools whom the world entitles to regard, whom accident has placed in heights of which they are unworthy, that he who cannot restrain his contempt or indignation at the sight, will be too often quarrelling with the disposal of things to relish that share which is allotted to himself.-Mackenzie. DOMESTIC GAS-APPARATUS. Scientific journals notice, among their novelties, an apparatus for the production of gas from any fire which is kept in constant use, such as a common kitchen grate, a steam-engine or other large furnace. The invention is the property of Messrs Cordon and Smith of Nottingham, who have recently obtained a patent for the apparatus, which is described as exceedingly simple and manageable, and capable of generating an abundant supply of gas at little or no expense beyond the original cost. We have slight hopes, we must confess, of every household becoming its own gas manufacturer; but if the promise of the invention be fulfilled, there can be no doubt of its adoption in factories and other establishments having furnaces at their command, and requiring an almost constant supply of this now necessary article of illumination. EFFECTS OF DRAINAGE ON HUMAN LIFE. The Rev. Professor Buckland, at a public meeting lately held in Oxford, said that in the parish of St Margaret, Leicester, containing 22,000 inhabitants, it appeared that one portion of it was effectually drained, some parts but partially so, and others not at all. In the latter, the average duration of life is thirteen years and a half, while in the same parish where the drainage is only partial, the average is twenty-two years and a half, thereby showing the frightful effects of a bad atmosphere. VALUE OF CEREMONY. All ceremonies are in themselves very silly things; but yet a man of the world should know them. They are the outworks of manners and decency, which would be too often broken in upon, if it were not for that defence which keeps the enemy at a proper distance. It is for that reason that I always treat fools and coxcombs with great ceremony, true good-breeding not being a sufficient barrier against them.-Chesterfield. SONNET TO A POETICAL YOUNG FRIEND. BY S. W. PARTRIDGE. POETICAL and poor! Ah, hapless friend, And Fame's twin brother, Famine, with him wend. NOTE. In the brief article which appeared in No. 12, under the title of 'A Dishonesty in a High Walk,' the Metropolitan Life-Assurance Society, enumerated in the honourable list of offices which reject the depraved plan of giving commission as a means of obtaining business, was described as a mixed proprietary. This we find to be a mistake, for which the only ground was, that the Metropolitan, while substantially a mutual-assuring society, acts as a company in insuring such persons as prefer lower rates with no prospect of a division of profits. We are the more disposed to rectify this error, as public opinion has now-justly, we think-set in so strongly in favour of mutual assurance. END OF FIRST VOLUME. Printed and Published by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh. Sold by W. S. ORR, Amen Corner, London. |