Ir being one of those cold gusty peevish April days incident to our climate, I hurried home so soon as the school I attended was dismissed. The games which were wont to eke out the half hour which intervened before the city clocks announced the hour of dinner, were this afternoon dispensed with, and I hence reached my father's house a little before my usual time. On entering, I was told by the servant that my mother wished to see me, and, obedient to the call of one who was the fondest and most amiable of parents, I immediately hastened to her apartment.

She

My mother had been long confined to bed, and still longer an invalid. Consumption, that baneful blight which of all other diseases attacks more particularly the sensitive and the beautiful, which, while the eye still beams with fire and the cheek yet glows with rosy freshness, is insidiously undermining health, and slowly but resistlessly gnawing at the vitals-which frequently, even unconsciously and without pain, pilots the soul into heaven, and always preaches a more impressive sermon upon death than any that ever fell from the eloquent lips of a Bossuet or a Massilon;— Consumption was the blight which had fallen upon my mother-the disease which proved the immediate cause of me becoming an orphan! She had already passed through the whole varied course of this fitful complaint, and had exhibited all the delusive and melancholy phases which it invariably assumes. was now perfectly emaciated and exceedingly weak— her mild expressive eye was still clear but deeply sunk her fine Grecian nose was almost cutting the skin-her face was of the most pearly whitenes, while two bright hectic spots occupied the seat where once the carnation bloomed. The room where my mother breathed her last, I shall never forget-I remember it even now to its smallest piece of furniture. The spacious bed with its many cushions and pillowsthe little round table covered with the physician's prescriptions the large lounging chair that occupied the side of the fire-place-the quarto Bible that was ever and anon consulted-the active, attentive, silver-tongued nurse who watched the every look, and anticipated the every wish of the invalid. I see all these now distinct before me, and although six-andtwenty summers have fled since last I saw them, they are still as fresh as if they had only been gazed upon yesterday.

On reaching the door of my mother's apartment, I cautiously opened it, and slipt round on tiptoe to the front of her bed. At that moment, her eyes were fixed upon the quarto Bible, and her thonghts appeared absorbed in the things of heaven. Her abstraction was in fact so great, that though I stood pretty close to her couch, she did not for some moments observe me-not indeed till I faultered out "My dear mama! how do you feel yourself to-day?"

"Oh, Harry, darling, is that you? your poor mama

is no better, no better;" while she added, in whispers that were apparently meant not to reach my earnor ever will be-poor little innocent!" Then raising her voice she continued, "you are just from school are you, Harry-attentive I hope to your lessons. I trust you never forget what I have always told you—to be diligent in youth-you will be rewarded for it in old age."

"I do all I can, mama" said I," and I have this day got to the top of my class."

Blessings on you, my dear boy," said my mother, with evident tokens of satisfaction, while, after a short pause, she added in a whisper-" Oh, that I could have lived to see you a man, to have experienced a mother's pride in a dutiful and an intelligent son. But where am I going-why should I arraign the will of the Almighty. May heaven forgive this worldly wish of a poor frail mortal! Why indeed should I repine? -How few, how very few, have experienced so much true, so much unalloyed happiness in this nether sphere; an adoring husband-the emblem of tenderness, of gentleness, of Benevolence-one who has never drawn a tear from these eyes, which ever looked to his for comfort and consolation-one whonever voluntarily wounded a heart which gave up all, and would have given up tenfold more had it possessed it, for his sake. And then, my children, my little prattlers. how many hours of speechless bliss have I enjoyed in gazing at your gambols. With these, what was the wide world to me? Nothing! nothing! I cared not for its pleasures nor its pomp. I had a better world -a heaven at home-in my husband, my children, and my God! Oh, Harry! put not thy confidence in the giddy world, nor look for enjoyment from its gaudy glories. Trust to other and better hopes of happiness, and, above all, do not forget the blessed author of all happiness-the God of heaven and of earth, in the contemplation of whose works there is endless joy. Oh, my dearest boy! what has all this world to bestow, compared with the hope of a blessed immortality. What can pour balm into the sorrows of a dying hour save this-save the well-grounded assurance of a Saviour's love! With this to rest upon, well, indeed, may the christian exclaim, Oh! Death, where is thy sting? Oh! Grave, where is thy victory?' Ponder, my beloved child, these things well; ponder what has been the only consolation of your dy--"

on.

Here my mother was suddenly seized with a severe spasmodic cough. The long harangue had brought it The nurse ran to her aid, raised her up, and held her in her arms. I hid my face in my hands, and trembled in every limb. When the paroxysm was over, I whispered softly, "dearest mama, you must not exert yourself so much-you cannot bear it-do, take a little drop of this cordial," presenting her with something which she was in the habit of taking to allay her cough.

"My dearest boy," faultered my mother, I thought that my hour had come-that cough was the worst I have yet had-but I feel much better."

"I hope you will get yet much better, when the weather becomes warmer. It is still cold-very cold indeed-but the summer will soon be here."

"Ah! Harry, I shall see no more summers-poor fellow." And here my mother secretly wiped away a

tear from her cheek, and after pausing for some time, she said, "Oh, God, let me not be found guilty of arraigning, in the least degree, thy wise and inscrutable providence! Harry, darling-do you ever pray for me -for your poor afflicted dying mother. It is of no use to conceal the truth-yes, my son, I feel the hour of my departure is at hand!"

My heart, at this solemn and tender appeal grew full, and falling upon my knees by her bedside, and clasping my hands together, gazed up in her face, and as it were, craved her to convey the sentiments of my soul to the throne of the Most High.

With an expression of joy and satisfaction which I never saw equalled, she turned round, raised her hand, gazed upon me, and clasping my hand in her's, she cast her eyes to heaven. Oh! I shall never-never forget my mother's look at that moment-it was angelic -it was the embodied feeling of a heavenly confidence, mingled with a heavenly love-an unspeakable gratitude, combined with a parent's yearning for a heavenly blessing on her child. For some moments we remained silently in this position, at length my mother broke the silence in these words, "God of heaven and of earth, I thank thee that thou hast answered my prayer. Oh! be the God and the guide of this, my dear son, keep him from the evils of a wicked world, from the nets which the sinful fowler lays for innocence. Oh! be his God and his guide even unto death, and for the sake of him whom thou lovedst and gavedst for the sins of the world, bring him into that blessed realm of the just, where there is no more tears, and no more suffering, to that realm where, through thy mercy, a dying mother may again behold her darl-"

My mother stopped, and gave a long sigh. I opened my eyes which had been closed in the act of joining my parent in prayer. I found that her head had fallen back

that a deathlike hue pervaded her features. I leapt up and gave a piercing cry, the nurse was at the bedside in an instant, and immediately seized my mother's hand. At that moment too my father entered the apartment, and softly said, "what Harry is the matter with you?" and receiving no answer, quickly approached my mother's bed. "Mary-my dearest wife-what -art thou-" the words stuck in his throat. 66 Harry! said the nurse," you had better into another room go -go, dear, as soon as possible."

I immediately quitted my mother's bed-room, and hastened to the nursery, where I found my sisters busy with their usual childish vocations. I had scarcely answered a few common questions about the school, when my father entered the room; he appeared deeply affected-silently he approached the fire-place. We all gathered round him as we were wont. My little sister then said, gazing steadfastly up in his face, "my dear рара, what is the matter with you?" "I am deeply grieved," faultered out my father, and then said, "my little dears, come give me each a kiss and I will go." After taking each of us in his arms and kissing us, he burst into tears, and turning to the servant maid, and saying, in as firm a tone as he could command-" Margaret-take care of the children-their mother is gone;" he rushed from the apartment.

GOD'S PROVIDENCE APPARENT.

"Be still, and know that I am God."

PSALM xlvi. 10.

"Qua epe denique, ut vivere velait tenebantur si vos eos deseritis." CICERO IN VERREM.

WHEN We reflect upon the vast amount of diurnal reading which, in our time, issues from the British press, and how very rarely it happens that any of the journals of our country (those only excepted which are exclusively devoted to religious objects) contain the slightest recognition of those great principles of human action, which lie at the root of all that is truly excellent in individual conduct, and all that is conducive to national prosperity and

happiness; and, when we consider how much it seems to have become matter of course, to treat the practical business of life upon the footing of mere expediency, and without any reference either to a superintending Providence now, or a day of final retribution hereafter; we are more and more strengthened in our original conviction, that in laying our opinions before the world, we were imperatively called upon to follow a course, if not wholly opposite, at least materially different; adopting, as the foundation of all our endeavours, to instruct and improve ourselves and our countrymen, that Divine record, which is, after all, the only true "guide to happiness" and the dominancy of which, in the hearts of Scotsmen, has long constituted the peculiar glory of our country, and, in spite of her natural disadvantages, has raised her to a high place in the scale of nations.

Such being the state of our feelings, in relation to this most important subject, we cannot but express, in very strong terms, the delight we have experienced in considering the favourable reception which our intelligent and numerous readers have given to the article contained in our last Saturday's number, in which we gave such an exposition of our views, as that no one can possibly misunderstand them. We hold that reception to be a token for good to be equally approbative of the little we have already done, and encouraging to us in our future labours; and we feel proportionately stimulated to persevere in the course we have prescribed to ourselves accordingly.

We have ever regarded it as a most dangerous propensity in man, and one inevitably leading, in its indulgence, to the grossest error, to make any attempt at minutely scanning the ways of Providence, or particularly explaining the intentions of the Deity, from those events which, from time to time, succeed each other in the ever-shifting drama of this present life; and, had any confirmation been necessary, of our views upon this head, we might readily have found it in the conduct of those otherwise highly gifted individuals of our day, who, departing from the sober and legitimate line of enquiry befitting them, have arrogantly arrayed themselves in the attributes of Divinity, and, by an extravagant and unwarrantable abuse of the propensity in question, have turned the grace of God into licentiousness, and made shipwreck of their faith, and of a good conscience. Yet, much as we deprecate any imitation of the conduct of such foolish men, we should esteem it as hardly less culpable to shut our eyes, and our understandings, and our hearts, to those more stupendous events which are occasionally presented to our view, and which, without our daring to give them any specific or particular application, bring along with them an incontestible evidence of their being wrought by the hand of God, as well as of their being intended to accomplish his final purposes in regard to the children of men-purposes, we are well assured, replete with benevolence, and mercy, and love.

We have been irresistibly led into this train of thinking, by our having, at length, had laid upon our table, the authenticated accounts of the existence, in our beloved country, and even in our close neighbourhood, of that direful pestilence, which, for fourteen years, has been a denizen of our globe, and yearly swept its myriads into a premature grave. In imagination we have figured to ourselves the destroying angel, in dread magnificence, and armed with a commission, to decimate the human race-descending upon the Delta of the Ganges stalking in the appalling Majesty of death through the fertile and spacious plains of Hindostan-sojourning, for a time, in the summer regions of Persia and Arabia-scaling the dark declivities of Caucasus-skirting the shores of the Euxine and the Caspian-sweeping across the wide Steppes of Tartary-exploring the darkest recesses of the Russian forest-expatiating, with ghastly pleasure, in the rich cultivated fields and densely peopled cities of Germany-every where mocking the puny efforts of man to arrest his progress, and spreading death, desolation and dismay, in mortal halo, all around and, finally, when satiated with the blood of the old continent, landing upon the still happy shores of our island. Yet have we contemplated all these without either despair or despondency, and we shall now briefly state, for the comfort and the reassurance of our readers, the grounds of our confidence :-First, the disease itself is more inert in its movements in this country, and less virulent in its operation, than on the continent. Secondly, our population, upon the whole, (we do not, of course, speak of those who are already sunk in dirt, debauchery and dis

ease) is much better fitted, both by constitution and habit, to resist the disease, than that of any other country under the sun. Thirdly, our general means of prevention and cure are, out of all sight, more complete and abundant than they have been any where else. Fourthly, the season of the year is in our favour. Fifthly, we have an army of the most able, intelligent, and enthusiastic medical men that ever adorned any country-men who, in the furtherance of the cause of humanity and of science, are ready to undertake any duty, and to face any danger. Sixthly, we have, among us, a bright galaxy of philanthropists, ready, at a moment's warning, to pour forth the fruits of their honourable industry for the benefit of their less fortunate brethren. Lastly, we have our faith fixed on Him who, as he

"Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm,"

has likewise in his hands the issues of life and death, and has promised, in the midst of merited wrath, to remember mercy.

Reverting, however, to some of our previous remarks, we beg to call to our Readers' most serious attention, the fact-a fact established upon evidence, perfectly irresistible-that this disease is peculiarly the scourge of the vicious, debauched, and the licentious sensualist; and, without meaning to retract or impugn a single word of what we have already written, we put it to every man's conscience whether he ought not to consider this circumstance as an express admonition, to observe, in his own person, and to promote the observance by all those who are under his controul, or likely to be influenced by his example, that temperance and self-denial which, as they are the best security for health and happiness here, are, so far as practice is concerned, the best preparations for the enjoyment of heaven hereafter.

We cannot close our remarks without urging, on all our Readers, the duty of contributing, each according to his ability, to the fund which is raising in Glasgow for the prevention or suppression of the disease in question, and of the other little-less fatal malady which, at present, infests our city; and, in the spirit of what we have already written, we would stimulate them to this deed of charity by a recollection of the Divine assurance, "forasmuch as ye did it to the least of these my brethren, ye did it likewise unto me."

METAPHYSICAL DEFINITIONS.

THE following definitions are well worthy of the perusal and study of our readers. They are as elegantly as they are justly given, and do honour to the mind of our correspondent:

GENIUS.-Genius is vastness of conception, originality of thought, brightness of ideas, and the application and concentration of these to useful purposes. Genius paints every thing it touches, elucidates every thing it examines, and, in letters of gold, impresses its image upon its productions.Genius is of no country; the world is its native home, and the mind is the throne of its temple. Ignorance retreats, superstition vanishes, and misery in

its thousand forms, is disarmed and vanquished, when genius is seconded by industry. Genius is as a river rushing over a precipice, bold, rapid, beautiful, and sublime in its descent, and, like its rolling stream, disseminates blessings in its course.

TRUTH.-Truth is the unclothing of all disguises, unveiling all defects; it is a proper regard to virtue a proper disregard to vice. Truth is the criterion that regulates society, assigning to its members their proper situation, and considers their importance under every circumstance. Truth is the only road to improvement, to happiness, and to perfection. It can perform no second part in the drama of life, for upon it the success of the representation depends; we must judge every thought, action, and event by truth alone. Aristides the Athenian, and Petrarch the Italian, knew its value, and guided their lives by it; for this noble homage to the majesty of truth, their names have become immortal! WHAT IS TRUTH? was the question of a Roman Governor; and who would not wait for an answer? Truth may be likened to a spring of water covered with snow, which, though deep and solid, gives way to its silent and almost imperceptible influence; again, truth may be considered as a planet careering through the illimitable expanse of space, and diffusing a resplendent lustre over its chaotic gloom.

COUP D'OEIL AT THE LATE RELIGIOUS PUBLICATIONS.

SERMONS by the late Rev. EDWARD PAYSON, D.D., Pastor of the Second Church in Portland, in the United States, 8vo. pp. 498. The life of this eminent Divine was of such a character as to create a particular interest in any thing he has written. Decision of character was one of the strong traits of Dr. Payson's history through life, and we find, in the discourses before us, that there is scarcely a sentence which is not associated in the mind with the spirit of one of the boldest and most successful reprovers of sin in the age in which he lived. We regard the Sermons of the late American Pastor as, in fact, among the happiest specimens of the pointed and direct mode of assailing the human conscience-of driving the guilty sinuer out of every refuge of lies, and, for this reason in particular, we would recommend them to the serious attention of the rising ministry.

THE CHILD'S MONITOR.-This is a little volume of texts and verses which has been compiled by a lady who has had great experience in the education of youth, and is well adapted to the capacities of children. The poetry is, invariably, an exact illustration of the passage of Scripture introduced.

RELIGIOUS NOVELTIES.

Mr. J. B. B. CLARKE, M. A., of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Chaplain to his R. H. the Duke of Sussex, has nearly ready for publication, "A concise View of the Succession of Sacred Literature," in a chronological arrangement of authors and their works, from the invention of alphabetical characters to the year of our Lord, 1300.

"The Christian Servant, or Spiritual Exercises of Elizabeth West," is in the press, corrected by R. SтODHART, Minister of

Mulberry Gardens Chapel. To which is added, "the Dying

Experience of Mrs. Jane Stodhart, the substance of her Funeral Sermon, preached by the Rev. John Rees.' Also, "The Dying Experience of Mr. William Stodhart and Mrs. Mary Davis, of Brighton."

ORIGINAL POETRY.

ON THE DEATH OF AN ORPHAN.
No sighs were heard-no tears were shed—
No friendly one wept o'er his bed,
Or marked the hour his spirit fled
From life's sun-setting sphere.
No farewell parting such as this,
No mother's tear, nor sister's kiss,
No father's pray'r, nor brother's bliss,
His last lone hour to cheer.

No father, clad in garb of gloom,
No brother weeping, to the tomb,
Did follow to his last bed-room,

To see the sod happ'd o'er him.
Tolls for him no funereal knell,
No requiem sad o'er him doth swell,
No friend to breathe a last farewell,

As in the grave they lower him.

But there was One who watch'd that bed,
Who caught his spirit as it fled,
And bore it from th' neglected dead,
Beyond the world's bleak shore.
Unsullied by woe's sigh and tear,
Far from the pangs that pierced him here,
He finds a home in heaven's bright sphere,
And greets his friends once more.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

T.S. P.

"BEAU BRUMMEL" must have observed, that his communication has been forestalled. We will be glad to hear from him again upon some topic where he may more tenderly exhibit his "bowels of compassion for his shivering countrymen." "The Memoirs of a Paisley Baillie" will appear early next week.

The communication from our friend in Gayfield Square, Edinburgh, has reached us. We hope to hear from him soon in a shape somewhat more in accordance with his former paper.

Our fair friends are, really, overkind in the way of heaping verses upon us. It is a sad tax upon our time even to read them, far less to dress them for the " Day."

"Ode to Bacchus" has not quite enough of spirit for our columns.

"Soul of the Drowned" is quite soul-less. We really do not want mere rhymes. These we can get in our rhyming Dictionary.

"P. L." is capable of something even better than what appears to-day; and we hope, by hearing from him soon, to find that he takes our hint.

FEMALE INFLUENCE ON RELIGION.

By MRS.

WOMAN IN HER SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC CHARACTER. JOHN SANDFORD. London, Longman & Co. 1831. WHAT a beautiful and instructive little Work is this by Mrs. Sandford. The title is singularly interesting, and what it leads to assuredly does not belie it. There is a pure and precious feeling running through the whole of the tiny volume, which cannot fail to make it be perused with satisfaction and advantage by the young, the middle-aged, and the old. How beautifully has the authoress represented woman in that most interesting of all situations, her "Social and Domestic Character;" more especially in that where she is seen clothed with the chaste garment of Religion, whether that be displayed by the tender daughter, the affectionate wife, or the devoted mother! What, indeed, can better recommend that best of all philosophy for the fair sex-the true Christian religion-than the character that is here so ably and so elegantly pourtrayed?

"The promotion of religious feeling is one of the greatest blessings of female influence. Yet the more qualified women are to adorn and recommend piety, the more important is it that they should not mistake or misapply their power. They may be really useful, they may, by their gentle persuasion, enforce truth,-they may cause religion to be loved for their sake;-how necessary, then, is it that they should study the means by which they may be the honoured instruments of doing so much good? How unhappy that they should ever mistake their line, bring a prejudica on their profession, and mar their own acceptance!

"Religion is peculiarly their province; and never is their influence so well employed as iu recommending it. Never is woman so truly delightful as when she is the alvocate of piety, and when, by a consistent and holy conversation, she exemplifies the principles which she wishes to enforce.

"Her influence, indeed, is chiefly in example. This is her best persuasive. By witnessing the effects of religion in her, men learn to appreciate its value. If it makes her more domestic, more self-denying, more kind, more contented, and more agreeable, they will, at least, respect it.

Experience proves the efficacy of this silent appeal. How often has it prevailed when a more direct one has been unsuccessful. And it is peculiarly appropriate to woman. None can find fault with her for consistency or virtue. None can blame her because she is more meek, more forgiving, more benevolent, more courteous, than others who are less religious. On the contrary, these graces secure to her an influence, and often pave the way for the reception of her opinions, If, in the early dawn of Christian light, woman was often honoured as its harbinger,-if, even in the imperial palace, the apostle found in her no feeble advocate, and, at the semi-barbarous court, the missionary hailed her as his kind and fostering friend,-was it not by her personal character that she mainly recommended truth, and advocated the doctrines she had herself learnt to prize?

"And so it is now. Women may often outlive prejudice. They may be so exemplary in their discharge of social duty, so pious towards their parents, so affectionate to their husbands, so devoted to their children; they may so grace and enliven the family circle, that their religion, which at first might have been considered their only defect, is at length valued, and perhaps, even adopted. Many a pious son has recorded his debt of gratitude to a Christian mother, many a Christian mother has sown, like Monaca, the seed in sorrow, and, like Monaca too, has had reason to rejoice when it has returned sevenfold into her bosom. "And the influence of a religious woman may extend far beyond her own home. She may be the Priscilla, or the Lydia, or the Dorcas, of a village, sympathising with the necessities of the poor, denying herself to relieve them, and availing herself of the access thus obtained to their affections, to lead them to the one only source of consolation."

"Religion was, perhaps, never more talked of than it is at present. Not only is it the heart-enlivening topic amongst Christian friends, but serious conversation is often the passport to society, and the means of elevating individuals above their natural rank in life. There are thus many temptations to spurious piety, and there are many, too, to female vanity; for a slight proficiency in religious knowledge renders women fluent, and they may mistake mere facility of expression for real feeling.

"And have we not reason to deplore the errors into which they are, in this way, occasionally betrayed? Do we not sometime see even young women arrogating to themselves the right, not merely of private judgment but of dictation,-descanting on the conflicting questions which agitate the religious world, or enouncing with unhesitating confidence some new conceit, to which the caprice or ignorance of modern empiricism has given birth? And, at length, do we not see them become the tools of some interested fanatic, or the disciples of some scarcely less culpable, though more honest, zealot, to whose keeping they have delivered their consciences, whose varying opinions they are pledged to adopt and to support,

and whom they credulously and emulously follow through all the phases of his eccentric orbit?"

"Pity it is that the symmetrical form of true religion should be ever obscured by the misshapen image of fanaticism, and that the prominence assumed by the latter should conceal her perfect features. But it is no wonder that it should be so; for fanaticism is ever bold, and courts display. She walks unveiled, she tells her tale in the street,-she runs to rich and poor, to learned and unlearned, proselytising some, alarming others; and raising, at least, the cry of party, either for or against herself.

"How different is the quiet step and modest mien of true religion! She does not strive nor cry; but, like her Divine Author when he walked on earth, she shuns the crowd of idle gazers, and stops the garrulous mouth of fame. Few speak of her,-few know her,she is found in the retired village, or in the humble shed,-in the private circle, or in the solitary chamber. She is the guide and friend of her, who, with a single eye, and simple heart, fixes her regard on heaven, and her affections upon God."

The individual who practises the religion here spoken of, may well say that she has acquired the "pearl of great price ;" and, while struggling amid the sorrows and the bereavements of this transitory life, will find comfort and consolation in that faith which assures her of a better and a more enduring existence. This is, indeed, an important little volume for females; and we would, therefore, warmly recommend all mothers to read it, simply because they will there find their duty, clearly, touchingly, and eloquently set forth. Daughters ought to read it; because the maxims which it inculcates will tend to form habits that are useful, and will direct their minds and hearts to the things that will make them happy here and hereafter. To the wife, Mrs. Sandford offers advice which, if followed, is well calculated to retain the affections of him who should be the chief object of her earthly concern-the partner of her pilgrimage ;-while she acacompanies this with so many easy and practical lessous, that no woman may be afraid, if she only follows them, of losing her attractive influence-that influence which age and acquaintanceship, instead of destroying, tends only to increase and perpetuate. In one word, there never was a little volume more richly stored with good counsel for the fair sex, nor more worthy of their serious perusal. Replete with genuine piety, it is a work which every woman may study with advantage to herself and to the community; and we have no doubt that those who really study it, and imbibe its precepts, will find them reflected back upon themselves, and will impart a resistless charm to the "Social and Domestic Character of Woman."

PLAN TO ARREST THE PROGRESS OF VULGARITY ON BLYTHSWOOD HILL.

In the great world-which being interpreted, Meaneth the west or worst end of a city, And about twice two thousand people, bred, By no means, to be very wise or witty;

But to sit up, while others lie in bed,

And look down on the universe with pity.

BYRON'S DON JUAN.

-We have just been favoured with the following epistle on the vulgar plague which is so rapidly ascending the corinthian column of our fashionable community. It is indeed well worthy of the serious consideration of all our fair readers:—

Blythswood Hill, Thursday.

DEAR MR. DAY,-As mama and I breakfast every morning in bed, and so cannot enter into the vulgar enjoyment of reading you at that meal, we generally delay doing so, till the evening, when "pa," who is often obliged to dine in the warehouse, comes home to a cup of tea. So you see, last night, we had a few of our neighbours of "the hill" with us, when your paper, on "door plates" was read, and the great question of the necessary distinction of ranks was introduced, and handled with much ability. I shall at present, only trouble you with the conclusion of the debate, as the whole subject will so soon be brought fully before the public. Miss Matilda Muscovado declared, that "indeed the middling and lower orders were getting so well bred and saucy, that there was no bearing with them, and that by and bye all distinction was in danger of being done away, for," says she, "at last assembly, I repeatedly danced with a very genteel and handsome young man, who wore charming mustachios, à la Blucher,' and whom I looked upon as at the least a captain of dragoons; but how was I horror-struck, when, a few days afterwards, I recognised him at the back of a counter in High Street, brandishing an ellwand over a sample of bombazeen, and serving out cholera-bandages by the dozen?" "O! la," says Miss Dorothea MacDrugget, that was nothing to the insolence of the fellow, and a very sprightly one he was, who squired me home, on an evening, lately from Signor Blitz. He was dressed in a blue Joseph, and sky-coloured tights, and bore as striking a resemblance to the dear departed Lord Byron, as one egg does to another, except in the article of legs, of which he demonstrated his having two, not only by his agility in assisting the juggler, on the evening in question, but two days afterwards, when passing along the Trongate, I was petrified at seeing him start into the guard's seat of the Edinburgh coach, with a bugle in his hand, upon which, so soon as he had mounted, he warbled most charmingly, The Girl I left behind me'." "Dear me," says Mrs. MacTwist, "what will this warl come to,-I hae mind weel eneuch, about forty years sin' syne, whan oor Mungo and me cam' to Glasco, frae the Brig o' Johnstone, whar we had been bred an' born a' our days, that nae honest folks wad hae trusted their dochters, to a dance or a daffin, without some weel-kent nee'bor laud, o' their ain degree; but things are noo, turned sae tapsalteery, that in ilka place o' amusement ye meet wi' cornals and coppersmiths, majors, muntebanks an' mautmen, captains and coblers, a' rinnen throughither, higgledypiggledy, after the lasses; an' for my ain pairt, I dinna ken bit the braw laud that's jist noo courtin' oor

Peggy, and says he's the son o' a Highlan' laird, may be an affshot o' an Irish trogger." "O gemini!" cries Miss Grace Gingham, "how can ye say that Misses M'Twist. I have known Mr. Donald M'Tavish quite well, since we were in the dancing' together, and I am sure, that his father is really laird of the island of Yontlaw. By the same token, he comes every year, from Dumbarton-muir fair to our house, with six of the young ladies, and stays with papa for three or four weeks, to give an opportunity to all his cousins, settled in business in Glasgow, and I assure you a goodly number there is of them, to eat and drink with him. His son is a very fashionable young man, and when he gets Miss Margaretta MacTwist's tocher to hand, he will take care to support the honour of the family." « Honour here, honour there," quoth Mrs. Anastasia Mac Lappet, "I wad sen' the chiel aboot his business. It's time eneuch for the Glasgow people' to mix their blood wi' that o' the Hieland folk,' when they can spen' saxpence aboot. There's oor Sanders, (a sharper man never clinked cash i' the Candleriggs,) sauld £10 worth o' muslin, six years sin', to MacCash o' Hillsiller, for the waddin' o' his auldest dochter, wha married the laird o' Langcredit; but ne'er a bodle o' the price has ever come to Glasco', although the steamer passes his castle every day, and he ay sends us his compliments." Aye, but," cries mamma, "what's te be dune to stem the torrant o' vulgarity that's setting up the Hill? Unless we can stop it, we may as weel spit an' gie o'er, or at ance put on our auld pinafores, and awa' to the back shop again." "Oh, shocking!" exclaimed Miss Cecilia Cigar, "your alternative, Ma'm, brings on me the same tendency to sickness, which comes on, I feel, whenever I am exposed to the air of Trongate or Saltmarket; but I have a plan to suggest, and that is, that we get Dr. Cleland (a genteel man, and a great admirer of the ladies) to build a high wall, (like that which shuts out the Tartars from the celestial empire,) beginning at the Clyde below St. Enoch's church, running up the centre of Buchanan Street, and ending at the Canal. That this wall shall be garnished with turrets at convenient distances, to be garrisoned by the junior members of the Western Club. That Mr. D—— Bshall be the janitor of the great gate; through which no person shall be allowed to pass to the westward till their pedigree be certified by a committee of the senior members of the Western." "It's done, it's done," cry the united and delighted females. "Hooly, hooly, leddies!" says papa, ye little ken how the warld wags, if ye think to carry a motion that so much concerns the public in a hole and corner. Ye maun get up a requisition to the Lady Provost for a public meeting, where it may be regularly discussed, an' openly an' satisfactorily settled; or, if Councillor C- or Commissioner L get word o't, ye'll better no." “Come,

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Agreed, by all means," cries every one. Miss MacLinen, officiate as Secretary." The proposal was carried by acclamation; and I now perform my duty in sending you the inclosed notice for insertion, which I hope will appear in your next Number.

I am, dear Day, Your faithful servant,

AUGUSTA MARIA WILHELMINA MACLINEN.