for working out the classic problem-ut cum ratione

insanias.

The trustful faith, however, and the curiosity, of former times had no such convenient arena. With less light, and no less eagerness to be thrusting in the dark, they would grope in every hole and corner, and turn their straining eyes on every side to catch a glimpse of the forthcoming, and challenge every trivial circumstance for a hint of what good or evil luck was at hand. The chirping of a bird or the cawing of a rook was a "voice potential" for weal or woe with them, as the veracious rumours of the Stock Exchange might be with us. But the art of self-tormenting, in which the human race in all ages hath shown peculiar expertness, would have lacked its last refinement if the individual had failed to carry about with him the materials of vexation. Accordingly we find it was not wanting in this particular. Though every external source of luck squared smooth with him, he might yet himself easily mar the prosperous course of things by an unlucky expression—some ominous exclamation, perhaps on that very account ever ready to leap to his lips, in spite of the speaker's repeatedly cuffing it back again. We incline to think an instance of this is furnished by Demosthenes in the opening of his Oration upon the Crown, where, on the point of alluding to the possible adverse decision of his audience, he checks himself, declaring that he would not utter anything ominous at the outset of his harangue. Some such classic recollection was possibly in Milton's mind when he made Belial characterize Moloch's speech as casting "Ominous conjecture on the whole success.” A similar spirit dictated the civilities of the ancients towards those very uncouth damsels, the Furies, who must have iled with grim satisfaction at the flattering epithet of

iles, or the gentle-minded, if, like our good Queen

glorious memory, they clutched at compliment

most eagerly on the precise points where it was least deserved.

This dread of uttering certain phrases, from fear of some unknown consequences thence to arise, would appear to have been pretty prevalent. And our next instance we will fetch from Asia, that land which seems to have stereotyped, the past. Layard, in his "Nineveh and its Remains," (a work which is yet more interesting if possible for its account of living races, than the monuments even of by-gone days,) speaks of the Yezedis as nervously shrinking from the utterance of certain words remotely allusive to the Gentleman in Black. "So far," he says, "is their dread of offending the Evil Principle carried that they carefully avoided every expression which may resemble in sound the name of Satan, or the Arabic word for "accursed." Thus, in speaking of a river, they will not say Shat, because it is too nearly connected with the first syllable in Sheitan, the Devil; but substitute Nahr. Nor, for the same reason, will they utter the word Keitan, thread or fringe. Naal, a horse-shoe, and Naal-band, a farrier, are forbidden words, because they approach to Naal, a curse, and Maloun, accursed."

This we fancy they do with more of reverence, yet with somewhat similar apprehension of consequences, to that which prompted the worthy Wagner's caution to Faust.

"Berufe nicht die wohlbekannte Schaar,

Die strömend sich im Dunstkreis überbreitet,
Dem Menschen tausendfältige Gefahr,
Von allen Enden her, bereitet.

Von Norden dringt der scharfe Geisterzahn
Auf dich herbei, mit pfeilgespitzten Zungen;
Von Morgen ziehn, vertrocknend, sie heran,
Und nähren sich von deinen Lungen;
Wenn sie der Mittag aus der Wüste shickt,
Die Gluth auf Gluth um deinen Scheitel häufen,

So bringt der West den Schwarm, der erst erquickt,
Um dich und Feld und Aue zu ersäufen.

Sie hören gern, zum Schaden froh gewandt,
Gehorchen gern, weil sie uns gern betrügen,
Sie stellen wie vom Himmel sich gesandt,
Und lispeln english wenn sie lügen."

* Prognostics, we trust, do not always work their own fulfilment, and fortunately we live in an age rather sceptical of" winged words," however bodeful in the utterance, ever turning to little imps to plague us in the sequel. Else should we reproach ourselves for the ominous allusion to a possible suspension of our Looking-on functions, with which we concluded the prefatory article of our first number. For, although we are not fallen, we trust, in the evil case of a total standstill, yet are we free to confess that the number of periodicals, that have started up concurrently with us, or were on foot before, do so crowd about us that we feel our respiration thereby greatly impeded. And such an offuscation of our vision withal is the result that we cannot catch a glimpse of our numerous friends, that we know must be thronging in the distance. Nor have we breath enough left to get at them if we could. The consequence of which unlucky posture of affairs is that we must husband our breath to one half our utterance in the former number, and return to sixteen pages. And we fear this is not all. Necessity, that knows no law, compels us to trespass yet further on the indulgence of our friends, and, not only, Sibyl-like, diminish the quantity of our leaves, but advance their price. Our future lucubrations will be charged twopence a number unless we find that sum is considered too high, in which case we shall be reluctantly compelled to take a final leave of our readers.

T. E. COUR.

The remainder of this paper was omitted by the editors, who had asked the writer for an announcement of the change alluded to in it, but, altering their minds, inserted the article without the latter portion, which is restored here to complete what was defective as an Essay on Omens, but well enough for the purpose intended.

V.

MARRIAGE WITH DECEASED WIFE'S SISTER.

[APRIL, 1850.]

MONG the causes, many and complex, which concurrently work the prosperity of a nation, it would be hard, if not impossible, to assign the exact amount of efficiency in each. We shall not, however, greatly err in thinking that England's prosperity and progress, and her comparative immunity from those revolutionary epidemics so dangerous to both, are, under Providence, attributable to no one cause more than to the domestic habits of her people. Home and its influences in this country anchor the individual too fast to allow of his being swept from his moorings by every political blast. The in-door life of the Englishman neutralizes the political fervour with which our Continental neighbours would seem to be so irresistibly borne away. He may lack the vivacity and the lighter social qualities of the gay Parisian, whom his "esprit de société" renders so much more agreeable to strangers-who seeks his amusements rather abroad than at home-who has one set of acquaintances, and his wife another-a want of communion which leaves each more open to external influences, with less to counteract them than here. The pet policy of the moment there penetrates at once into the recesses of private life, unbroken, unqualified, irresistibly; and opinion becomes as centralized as their government, each assemblée fermenting with the political fervour of the day, and each member with that of the assemblée. It was, we believe, at a soirée that the famous Marseillaise was concocted.

The Englishman is the converse of this. He lives out of doors less, and, retaining more of the individual, thinks more for himself, and less through the public. More communion prevails in his family, and he is more the centre round which all moves. Woman's influence is great in both countries, but here it is more peculiarly exerted in its legitimate sphere of action-in private, at home, and in the bosom of her family. And if the operative catch a little of revolutionary fever, over a cup of ale abroad, his good wife at home will, ten to one, on his return, by enquiring what is to come of their children, wean him from violence. The canny Luath of Burns was not so far wrong in his estimate of his biped masters. For after all,

"The dearest comfort o' their lives

Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives;
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a' their fire-side."

Such and so great being the importance of the domestic character of our people, proportionate must be the interest of every question that affects it, and proportionate the obligation of approaching its discussion in a spirit of fairness, and candour, and desire for the truth, without cavilling and without prejudice. Such a question is the subject of this article, and in such a spirit we would handle it, honestly and soberly setting forth our own views, with all respect for those who honestly and soberly arrive at an opposite conclusion.

The effect of the law as it now stands is to place relationship by affinity, and that by consanguinity, on the same footing, as a bar to the intermarriage of persons so circumstanced; or more vernacularly, relations by law can no more marry with one another than blood relations within the prohibited degrees. As, therefore, own brother and sister cannot marry, so neither can a man marry his deceased wife's sister, because he is her brother by affinity.