mitive abodes: they found themselves settled in quiet sylvan scenes, rich in all the luxuries of life, and endowed with the perfect loveliness of Arcadian beauty. But from the hills of this favoured land, and even from the level grounds as they approached its western border, they still look out upon that fearful wilderness which once beheld a nation in agony-the utter extirpation of nearly half a million from amongst its numbers, and, for the remainder, a storm of misery so fierce, that in the end (as happened also at Athens during the Peloponnesian war from a different form of misery) very many lost their memory; all records of their past life were wiped out as with a sponge-utterly erased and cancelled: and many others lost their reason; some in a gentle form of pensive melancholy, some in a more restless form of feverish delirium and nervous agitation, and others in the fixed forms of tempestuous mania, raving frenzy, or moping idiocy. Two great commemorative monuments arose in after years to mark the depth and permanence of the awe-the sacred and re verential grief with which all persons looked back upon the dread calamities attached to the year of the Tiger-all who had either personally shared in those calamities, and had themselves drunk from that cup of sorrow, or who had effectually been made witnesses to their results, and associated with their relief; two great monuments, we say; first of all, one in the religious solemnity, enjoined by the Dalai Lama, called in the Tartar language a Romanang, that is, a national commemoration, with music the most rich and solemn, of all the souls who departed to the rest of Paradise from the afflictions of the Desart: this took place about six years after the arrival in China. Secondly, another more durable and more commensurate to the scale of the calamity and to the grandeur of this national Exodus, in the mighty columns of granite and brass, erected by the Emperor Kien Long, near the banks of the Ily: these columns stand upon the very margin of the steppes; and they bear a short but emphatic inscription* to the following effect :— By the Will of God, Here, upon the Brink of these Desarts, Pathless, treeless, waterless, For thousands of miles-and along the margins of many mighty Nations, Under the shadow of the Chinese Wall, And by the favour of KIEN LONG, God's Lieutenant upon Earth, Wandering Sheep who had strayed away from the Celestial Empire in the year 1616, Into the fold of their forgiving Shepherd. Hallowed be the spot for ever, and Hallowed be the day-September 8, 1771! Amen. This inscription has been slightly altered in one or two phrases, and particularly in adapting to the Christian era the Emperor's expressions for the year of the original Exodus from China and the retrogressive Exodus from Russia. With respect to the designation adopted for the Russian Emperor, either it is built upon some confusion between him and the Byzantine Caesars, as though the former, being of the same religion with the latter (and occupying in part the same longitudes, though in different latitudes) might be considered as his modern successor; or else it refers simply to the Greek form of Christianity professed by the Russian Emperor and Church. THE BARBER'S SUPPER. THIS is the age of speculations; but however promising they may be (and there is no lack of promises in any of their prospectuses that we have encountered), there is always a certain bitter in the midst of all their sweets, -always a lingering fear that their end may not be quite so flourishing as their beginnings, and that the dropping of the curtain may find the bubble burst, and the unfortunate speculator in jail. The absence of absolute downright certainty in any undertaking is a great drawback on its desirableness. How gladly would we pawn our last shred of property, yea, the very greatcoat we have borrowed of our landlord, to realize money enough to become a shareholder in the jointstock company for the working of the gold mines lately discovered in the mountains of the moon; or for the creation of antediluvian elephants by means of muriatic acid as discovered by Mr Crosse; if we could only be certain that the gold would be plentiful and the elephants fit for work. Yet amidst all this uncertainty, it is very satisfactory to know that there is one speculation in which it is impossible to go wrong,-and which it requires nothing but a little observation and the use of one's own judgment to render quite as money-making a concern as a general balloon navigation company to all-except the original proposers. This speculation is-to fail; and there is but one art and mystery in it-to fail at the right time; not for a few paltry pounds, which are rigorously taken from you, but for a good slapping sum at once, enough to strike your creditors with reverence for your greatness, and respect for your misfortunes. At the very worst they will allow you a comfortable maintenance out of their own money, and perhaps present you with a silver dinner set in token of their gratitude for your allowing them to recover a shilling in the pound. And in circumstances like these there is always this comfort, that the remaining nineteen shillings enable you to fill the silver dishes with turtle and venison, and all things else in a concatenation accordingly. In to the east of the Land's-end, and the north of the Isle of Wight, a merchant of the name of Stephen Whiffle, who, although he did not figure in the Red Book, had that very excellent and lucrative possession—a good name. those days there were none of those multitudinous branch banks which now overshadow the land, but Stephen, with a desire to oblige that made him popular in all the neighbourhood, undertook to supply the place of one. He received all the savings of his friends and neighbours, and some were so delighted with this mode of investment, that they converted all their property into money, and gladly placed it in his hands. In fact, it was thought a great favour on the part of Stephen when he accepted the sums offered to him, and, of course, the favour was the greater the larger the amount. At last there was not a shilling in the town but what was in the custody of Stephen; the people returned almost to a state of pristine security; no door was bolted at night, there was nothing left to tempt the cupidity of thieves. The golden age revisited the borough town of Heckingham, and hogsheads of beer were quaffed every night by the happy inhabitants of the modern Arcadia to the health and happiness of Stephen Whiffle. But while all went gaily as a marriage-bell, and when the felicity of the population had reached to such a height that the tap-room of the Golden Lion could scarcely accommodate the ale-imbibing worshippers of the bestower of all this joy, and the pump in the market was forsaken as a uscless implement, there came what is now called a crisis in the money market, but which we shall continue to call by its old name-a crash. Good gracious! can it be possible! The house of Osbaldiston and Tresham was a joke to this! Stephen Whiffle was a bankrupt; his property was found. to be scarcely worth the dividing; his strong-box empty, his creditors brokenhearted, and the pewter mace, which on high days and holidays was carried before the mayor, was ordered by that official to be enveloped in crape in sign of the general lamentation. SteThere was once in a country town phen, however, continued to live in his old house; and the only change visible was an increased devotion and a marvellous tendency to grow fat. His attendance at chapel was regular as clock-work; his groans were heart-rending in the extreme, and no one could possibly help feeling compassion for his misfortunes when he began himself to adorn the pulpit, and preach on the perishableness of all earthly treasures. One consolation, however, remained to him, he used often to say in his discourses, and that was, that through the agency of his failure the Lord had turned the hearts of many from the Golden Lion, and opened their eyes to the superiority of the pump. The increase of sobriety was indeed remarkable, and the landlords of the different inns were untiring in their efforts to obtain a diminution of the duties on beer; the malt they did not care about, as having little connexion with it in the way of their business; but if the Bonifaces were untiring, the Chancellor of the Exchequer was unremitting, and so there was a Temperance Society established in the borough, on the most strictly involuntary principles. Among all those who owed the blessing of sobriety to the philanthropic and reforming proceedings of the devout Whiffle, the person who seemed least grateful to his benefactor was one John Piper, the corporation barber. This ingratitude in John was extremely sinful, as he had not only to thank Mr Stephen for having weaned him from strong ale, but also for the inestimable blessing of an appetite which might safely be called never-failing, seeing that he never had now the means of satisfying its demands. This unerring sign of health also was extended to his wife and six or seven children, so that John's obligations were certainly of the most powerful kind. But instead of looking with an eye of favour on Mr Whiffle, he actually grudged that respectable gentleman every pound of flesh that adorned his ribs; his enormous breadth of back he considered a fresh theft of his property, and when a third chin began to develope itself, the indignation of the barber could no longer be restrained-his rage found vent in words, and he claimed the additional protuberance as his own. His claim was logically enounced the produce of my money is mine; that chin is the produce of my money; ergo, that chin is mine. In the mean-time Mr Stephen had a life-interest in it as well as in all the other goods, chattels, and hereditaments of which he had so sagaciously possessed himself. But Stephen, though very devout, was not a little ostentatious; a combination you may perhaps have remarked on similar occasions if you are a person of observation; if not, take our advice, and watch, and you will see that the carriages of pious people who have abjured the world are always as gaudy as a lord mayor's coach. This rule is without exception. Stephen, we say, was ostentatious; but this vain-glorious spirit did not display itself in the trappings of his carriage, seeing that he contented himself with an occasional hire of a gig, but in the equally tangible form of a larder stuffed to the very roof; parcels of fish arriving every week from London, and the evolutions of a jack before the kitchen fire, which one might almost have fancied a specimen of the perpetual motion. One morning a sound as of the battle of Waterloo had alarmed half the town; deep groans and then high shrieks had filled the atmosphere for many yards around; there was neither earthquake nor eclipse; but when at last the horrific sounds had ceased, and "a solemn silence held the listening air," men looked at each other with faces that showed they knew the cause of the hurly-burly, and that Stephen had killed his pig! Such an enormous pig had never been fattened in Heckingham before by the ingenuity or the meal of man. Its sides swelled out like the mainsails of a three-decker in a stiffish breeze; its throat was imperceptible quasi throat, being rather a continuation of the prodigious body, and instead of being a narrow isthmus connecting two continents, it might have passed very well for a continent itself. Vanity indeed in such a possession was excusable in any one, and in Stephen the desire to show the lovely monster to his townsfolk was altogether irresistible. He therefore had it placed on the floor of his kitchen, which was visible to all the passengers, while he himself sat at the top of the stair which led down to it, to enjoy the wonder and admiration of the behold ers. Oh, it was a sight worth seeing, the worthy Stephen Whiffle and his pig. At the first glance they might have passed for brothers; but a closer inspection, though it did not destroy the family resemblance, enabled one to perceive the different styles of beauty by which each was distinguished. Stephen had the ruddy glow of satisfaction diffusing its purple light over the vast expanse of his chops-face we mean; whereas the other had that mild expression peculiar to the defunct of that species, which Lord Byron has called "the rapture of repose." Besides, what's the use of any more descriptions of the points wherein they differed? Stephen sat full-dressed like a worthy gentleman in his chair, whereas the other lay full length with his bristly coat around him on the kitchen-floor. Wherever a sight was to be seen, of course all the barbers of a town must be there to see it, and as our friend John Piper was the principal professor of the shaving art in the town of Heckingham, he came, saw, and cursed the proprietor with all his soul and with all his strength. On returning home, and reflecting on all the distress he owed to Mr Whiffle "how it was all along of he," as he expressed it, "that very few people could now afford the luxury of a barber; that one of his best customers had put down his wig and his onehorse-chay the week after the failure; that baldness had become fashionable among the old; and long beards and moustaches among the young, ever since that eventful incident; when Piper, we say, reflected on all these things, he broke a good many of the commandments, among which we will only particularize the third and the tenth. What a wonderful thing hunger is! How it sharpens the wits! how it teaches us logic, rhetoric, and philosophy!-how it makes us write books, or, at all events, publish them! Yes, hunger makes us do a great many curious things; and if you will wait for a very few minutes, you shall see what it induced the exasperated Piper to perform. It was indeed irresistible. Here was an opportunity to gratify at once his appetite and his revenge. "Wife!" he said, with a voice that portended strange things; "'tis past bearing, and I'll bear it no longer.' "What is it, dear John?" answered his helpmate, who was the most obedient wife that ever fell to the lot of a barber. "What is it?-ugh-it chokes me. Why that infernal villain-that rascal, Whiffle, has killed the most beautiful pig I ever saw. The greedy, fat, dishonest, d-d intolerable beasttwenty score if he's an ounce-the cursed red-faced, pot-bellied, doublechinned impostor-besides liver and lights!" "What is all this about?" enquired Mrs Piper, who, in the strange jumble of her husband's ideas, could not exactly make out whether his descrip. tions were intended for Whiffle or the pig. "I tell you 'tis mine! No power on earth shall persuade me that every inch of fat on both their carcasses is not my just and lawful property; and I'll have that pig this night as sure as my name's" "Steal it?" "What do you mean, woman, by talking such nonsense? Steal! Isn't it my own? Haven't I paid a hundred and three pounds seventeen and twopence for it?-a good price-and haven't I a right to bring it home?" The good woman shook her head and sighed. John paused in mid career, and casting his eye mournfully round the room on the beds where all his children were sleeping "They will ask us for something in the morning, Letty, and we have nothing to give them :—no more credit any where! The little ravens are fed in the fields, but we have nothing to put in the mouths of these little ones when they open them for food. Oh, cursed be he that cheateth his neighbours, and fattens his pig at other people's expense !" Letty looked mournfully round, but said nothing. "Only think, wife," continued John, "in half an hour we could have the pig here;—a slice done on the gridiron would be delightful before going to bed. I would pawn some of my razors to buy some bread; we would waken the two elder ones to give them a taste, poor dears!--and to-morrow I would sell some of the bacon, and tell the rascal, Whiffle, I would give him a receipt for the value of the animal as part payment of his debt-eh! Letty?" Letty could resist no longer. Her bonnet was on her head; the light truck brought noiselessly from the back-yard to the door, and off the two set through the now deserted streets, for the clock had struck ten, and the watchmen had been asleep for an hour. CHAPTER II. The day that Stephen Whiffle presented his fat pig to the admiring eyes of his townsmen was the happiest day of his life. His heart swelled with pride and exultation to such a degree, that he burst two of the buttons of his waistcoat. In a chair, conspicuously placed in the passage, in such a way as to command a view of the object of his admiration on one side, and the street on the other, with a pipe breathing perfume, and his ears wide open to hear the criticisms of his neighbours, from morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve, did Stephen labour, as we have said, without intermission in his effort to astonish the natives; aud so persevering had been his labours, that his appetite on this occasion was increased to a pitch of sharpness that would have made an alligator ashamed of himself. But Dinah Prim, who on week days was his housekeeper, and on Sundays his fellow-worker in edifying the rebellious, in so far as she invariably groaned louder in her devotions than any of the unconverted have a right to do, had prepared a more than usually abundant supper, as if in anticipation of the exciting effects of her master's unwonted activity. An immense dish of stewed beaf-steaks, accompanied with hot potatoes, and garnished with sundry pickles, sent up their savoury steams; a huge tankard, crowned with a diadem of foam, rested its precious cargo of exquisite homebrewed, at Stephen's dexter hand; Dinah Prim smiled with her sweetest smiles directly opposite; and a kettle "weaving its song of potatory joy," and breathing vows of ardent devotion to a pot-bellied bottle of gin which stood on the table, gave symptoms of an intention on the part of Mr Whiffle to prove himself a patriotic subject by increasing the amount of the excise. But it is not to be imagined for a moment that Stephen had sat all day exposed to the fresh air without some refreshment. Dinah had performed various voyages to the cellar, and returned laden with profound beakers of ale which her master had magnanimously tossed over the vast abysm of his throat with redoubled relish when he perceived that his happiness was witnessed by some hapless wretch to whom the flavour of John Barleycorn was one of the pleasures of memory, for Stephen was one of those Lucretian individuals to whom his own happiness was very much enhanced by a comparison with the misery of others. Supper at last was over; the tankard emptied; the gin poured into his tumbler, and over the huge expanse of Whiffle's countenance, now nearly blue from the quantity he had eaten, wandered an expression of self-complacent satisfaction that only the good can feel. "What an excellent thing, Dinah, is a good conscience," snorted the almost somnolent Stephen, "and a contented mind. Them is the only things as is worth the search. All else is wanity and wexation." 66 Truly; and if all blessings is used with moderation." "What do you mean to hinsinivate? That I ain't moderate?—Is not all things allowed to me as has repented ?— Mayn't I heat a few beefsteaks?—" "Yes, with humility-" "Humble enough too for one as has reached such degrees as I have.But you are yet at the houter wall.You don't know nothink of true 'oliness, and that ere beef steak hadn't half enough of innions.—So hold your tongue." While this and similar conversations went on, the bottle got rapidly exhausted;-short broken grunts were all that proceeded at last from the meek lips of Mr Whiffle, and with his head lean't back upon his chair, his nostrils wide distended, and his legs stretched out before him-to the eyes of one of the unconverted the immaculate Stephen might almost have had the appearance of being what the Gentiles call drunk. The unprofane would have considered him in a trance. There is no saying what visions were |