"A greater number of journals are published in German, a fact which is accounted for by that language being spoken in several provinces of the empire. There are no fewer than 20 German journals. Four more are published in the Lette language-three at Riga, and one at Mittau.

"There exist no circulating libraries, except in the capitals and other large cities; the readers, therefore, who wish to know the merit of a work before they buy it, are in the habit of carefully consulting all the journals, in which they expect to find the necessary information to enable them to judge of its merits. The journals are thus invested with a sort of magistracy and a confidence, which their interest, as well as reputation, make it a point with them to deserve.

"The Northern Bee' is the journal most esteemed, on account of its criticism; and the Literary Library' the most dreaded, because of the severity of its judgments and the sarcastic style of its writers. The Literary Library' is the representative in Russia of English ideas. It endeavours as much as possible to treat matters with a view to public utility, and generally avoids philosophical abstractions. The Son of the Country,' on the other hand, is the partisan of German ideas. It belongs to no particular school, but it indulges in metaphysical speculations, and takes a philosophical view of all the questions it examines."

ANECDOTES OF PORSON.

MANY men, remarkable in their time, whose merits or whose fame have excited wonder and admiration,-whose talents or success have been sources of emulation or envy,-whose society and correspondence have been sedulously courted and anxiously sought after during their lives, and their praises celebrated after their deaths,-do soon, after all, pass into a kind of oblivion. Their biographies may be too meagre for standard literature-their works may not be adapted for Family Libraries - yet, may they not be popularly exhibited once or twice at least in a century, if it were but to say, such men have been? Saving an occasional stray anecdote or passing remark, many who deserve a better fate are allowed to pass away with the generation they left behind them. Cannot a revival of their virtues still confirm the old, or an exhibition of their follies be yet a warning to the young? How many good names might be preserved from obscurity if it were but by stringing together a few anecdotes of them, and thus, as it were, now and then making them write their own lives! Of Porson, who has been dead thirty years, little more is known to the tyro of the present generation than that he was merely a Greek Professor, a learned man, a profound scholar, and an eccentric character all his lifetime. There are some incidents in his history, however, that may be read with interest at any time. A few anecdotes of him may not now be unentertaining.

That he was born on Christmas-day, 1759-that he early found a patron who sent him to Eton, and afterwards to Cambridge, where he became Greek Professor-that he died in London on the 19th of September, 1808, in the 49th year of his age, while Librarian of the London Institution, a sinecure situation he had for some years enjoyed-and that he was buried with academic honours at Cambridge-may soon be disposed of. The leading features of his character may be gathered from what follows:

Although his parents were poor, they were persons of sound sense. As soon as young Richard could speak, his father began to tutor him in reading and writing by means of a piece of chalk, or with his finger in sand. This exercise delighting his fancy, an ardour of imitating whatever was put before him was excited to such a degree, that the walls of the house were covered with characters which attracted notice from the neatness and fidelity of delineation, and excellence in penmanship was ever after one of his accomplishments. His father likewise taught him arithmetic without a slate, up to the cube root, before he was nine years of age. His extraordinary memory soon developed itself; he was noticed by several gentlemen in Norfolk, who kept him at school, where he made rapid progress, and read and retained everything that came in his way. The same kind friends sent him to Eton, and subsequently to Cambridge.

At Eton, as he was going to his tutor's to construe a Horace lesson preparatory to the business of school, one of the senior boys took Porson's Horace from him, and thrust into his hands some English book. The tutor called upon him to construe, and the other boys were much amused in considering the figure he would make in this emergency. Porson, however, who had Horace by

heart before he went to Eton, knowing where the lesson was to begin, began without hesitation—

Mercuri facunde, nepos Atlantis

and went on regularly, first reciting the Latin, and then giving the Latin and English, as if he had really the author before him. The tutor, perceiving some symptoms of astonishment as well as mirth among the other boys, suspected there was something unusual in the affair, and inquired what edition of Horace Porson had in his hand. "I learned the lesson from the Delphin," replied his pupil, avoiding a direct answer. "This is very odd," replied the other, "for you seem to be reading on a different side of the page from myself. Let me see your book." The truth was, of course, then discovered; but the master, instead of showing any displeasure, wisely and kindly observed to the others, that he should be most happy to find any of them acquitting themselves as well in a similar predicament.

Porson used to say that he learnt little at school. Though he would not own it, he was obliged to the collision of a public school for the rapidity with which he increased his knowledge, and the correction of himself by the mistakes of others.

He was in the habit of having the last word, and of seeing everybody and everything out.

He communicated information in a plain, direct, straightfor ward manner; and used to say, "whether you quote or collate, do it fairly and accurately, whether it be Joe Miller, or Tom Thumb, or the Three Children Sliding on the Ice."

text.

On one occasion he said, "I never remembered anything but what I transcribed three times, or read over s.x times, at the least; and if you will do the same you will have as good a memory." He has often said that he had not naturally a good memory, but that what he had obtained in this respect, was the effect of discipline only. His recollection was really wonderful. He has been known to challenge any one to repeat a line or phrase from any of the Greek dramatic writers, and would instantly go on with the conThe Letters of Junius, the Mayor of Garratt, and many favourite compositions, he would repeat usque ad fastidium. Porson by no means excelled in conversation: he neither wrote nor spoke with facility. His elocution was perplexed and embarrassed, except where he was exceedingly intimate; but there were strong indications of intellect in his countenance, and whatever he said was manifestly founded on judgment, sense, and knowledge. Composition was no less difficult to him. Upon one occasion he undertook to write a dozen lines, upon a subject which he had much turned in his mind, and with which he was exceedingly familiar. But the number of erasures and interlineations was so great as to render it hardly legible; yet, when completed, it was, and is, a memorial of his sagacity, acuteness, and erudition.

Porson had a very lofty mind, and was tenacious of his proper dignity. Where he was familiar and intimate, he was exceedingly condescending and good-natured. He was kind to children, and would often play with them; but he was at no pains to conceal his partiality, where there were several in one family. In one which he often visited, there was a little girl, of whom he was exceedingly fond: he often brought her trifling presents, wrote in her books, and distinguished her on every occasion; but she had a brother, to whom, for no assignable reason, he never spoke, nor would in any respect notice. He was also fond of female society, and though too frequently negligent of his person, was of the most obliging manners and behaviour, and would read a play, or recite, or do anything that was required. He was fond of reading the Greek physicians; and, when he lived in the Temple, slept with Galen under his head: not that Galen was his favourite, but because the folio relieved his asthma.

There were blended in Porson very opposite qualities. In some things he appeared to be of the most unshaken firmness; in others he was wayward, capricious, and discovered the weakness of a child. Although, in the former part of his life, more particularly, he would not unfrequently confine himself for days together in his chamber, and not suffer himself to be intruded upon by his most intimate acquaintance, he hardly ever could resist the allure. ments of social converse, or the late and irregular hours to which they occasionally lead.

That he was friendly to late hours, and generally exhibited Dr. Johnson's reluctance to go to bed, might naturally arise from the circumstance of his being from a child a very bad sleeper. He frequently spent his evenings with the venerable Dean of Westminster, with Dr. Wingfield, with Bennett Langton, and with

DISCOVERY OF AUSTRALIA FELIX.

"We had at length discovered a country ready for the immediate reception of civilised man, and fit to become eventually one of the great nations of the earth. Unincumbered with too much wood, yet possessing enough for all purposes; with an exuberant soil under a temperate climate; bounded by the sea-coast and mighty rivers, and watered abundantly by streams from lofty mountains: this highly interesting region lay before me with all its features new and untouched as they fell from the hand of the Creator! of this Eden it seemed that I was only the Adam; and it was indeed a sort of paradise to me, permitted thus to be the first to explore its mountains and streams-to behold its scenery-to investigate its geological character-and, finally, by my survey, to develop those natural advantages all still unknown to the civilised world, but yet certain to become, at no distant date, of vast importance to a new people. The lofty mountain range which I had seen on the 11th was now before us, but still distant between thirty and forty miles; and as the cattle required rest, I determined on an excursion to its lofty eastern summit.

"We now travelled over a country quite open, slightly undulating, and well covered with grass. To the westward, the noble outline of the Grampians terminated a view extending over vast open plains, fringed with forests, and embellished with lakes. To the northward, appeared other more accessiblelooking hills, some being slightly wooded, others green and open to their summits, long grassy vales and ridges intervening: while to the eastward, the open plain extended as far as the eye could reach. Our way lay between distant ranges, which, in that direction, mingled with the clouds. Thus I had both the open country and the hills within reach, and might choose either for our route, according to the state of the ground, weather, &c. Certainly, a land more favourable for colonisation could not be found. Flocks might be turned out upon its hills, or the plough at once set a-going in the plains. No primeval forests required to be first rooted out here, although there was enough of wood for all purposes of utility, and adorning the country just as much as even a painter could wish. One feature peculiar to that country appeared on these open downs; this consisted of hollows, which, being usually surrounded by a line of yarra' gum-trees, or white bark eucalyptus, seemed, at a distance, to contain lakes, but instead of water, I found only blocks of vesicular trap, consisting, apparently, of granular felspar, and hornblend rock also appeared in the banks enclosing them. Some of these hollows were of a winding character, as if they had been the remains of ancient water-courses; but if ever currents flowed there, the surface must have undergone considerable alteration since, for the downs where these hollows appeared were elevated at least 900 feet above the sea, and surrounded on all sides by lower ground. There was an appearance of moisture among the rocks in some of the hollows; and whether, by digging a few feet, permanent wells might be made there, may be a question worth attention when colonisation extends to that country."-Major Mitchell's Expeditions.

SPEAK THE TRUTH.

The worthy Sir Henry Wotton incurred the displeasure of King James, by a facetious sentence of innocent meaning, that was capable to be interpreted in favour of falsehood-" An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good of his country." Besides, it is an argument of a cowardly poor spirit, and though it may chance to serve a present turn, yet it enhances the guilt of the crime, and when it is detected makes a man look like a pitiful baffled fellow; whereas the brave and magnanimous person does not sneak, but speaks truth, and is bold as a lion; and this is appositely expressed in the counsel of the divine poet :

"Dare to be true, nothing can want a lie ;

A fault that wants it most grows two thereby." Epaminondas and Aristides were so tender in this respect that they would not tell a lie so much as in merriment. Equivocal speeches and mental reservations become none, much less great men. Egyptian princes were wont to wear a golden chain, beset with precious stones, which they styled truth, intimating that to be the most illustrious and royal ornament.

PRINTERS' Devils.

There are two accounts of the origin of this title. One of them says, there was one Mons. Leville, or Deville, who came over with William the Conqueror, in company with De Laune, De Vau, De Val, De Ashwood, De Utfine, D'Umpoding, &c. A descendant of this Monsieur Deville, in the direct line, was taken by the famous Caxton, in 1471, who, proving very expert, became afterwards his apprentice, and in time an eminent printer; from him the order of printer's Devilles, or devils, took their names.-The other account says, if they took it from infernal devils, it was not because they were messengers frequently sent in darkness, and appearing as scoffers would suggest, but upon a very reputable account; for John Faust, or Faustus, of Mainz, in Germany, was the first inventor of the art of printing; which art of printing so surprised the world that they thought him a conjuror, and called him Dr. Faustus, and his art the black art. As he kept a constant succession of boys to run errands, who were always very black, some of whom being raised to be his apprentices, and afterwards raised themselves in the world, he was very properly said to have raised many a devil.—American Paper.

CUTCH AND THE CUTCHEES.

"Cutch is a small state, under the subsidised protection of the British Government, in the northern extremity of Western India. The Koree, or eastern outlet of the Indus, washes it on the west; the Great Sandy Desert bounds it on the north; and the sea, and Gulf of Cutch, to the south and east. Its length is about 160, and its extreme breadth, 65 miles. The population is estimated at about 400,000. The northern part of the country is an extensive salt morass, called the Runn, flooded during the rainy season. The soil of the more habitable part is clay, covered with a deep sand. There is little wood, except

brushwood and brambles. Cotton is cultivated to a great extent, and is exported in return for grain, of which a sufficiency is not grown for home consumption. "The Cutchees are simple in their habits of life; their common food is rice, parched grain, or a few vegetables, cooked with a little ghee, and eaten with cakes of coarse flour; the better sort of people sometimes indulge in curry and sweetmeats. They profess themselves water-drinkers, but are really addicted to the use of intoxicating liquors, which they distil in all the villages from various vegetable productions. They drink also freely of toddy, which is procured in large quantities from the date and the cocoa-nut palm. Opium is prepared by them, and used, both as kusumba, and in its simple state, in large quantities. It seems less injurious, however, than the Turkish drug, and its effects are less perceptible. The men carry the opium in little boxes about their persons, and take it at all times. With this means of refreshment, they are capable of great fatigue, and can journey long and rapidly without food, smoking as they go, and stopping only for a draught of water from the numerous wells. The Cutchees appear to feel respect for the European character, and are obliging in their intercourse with us. Amongst other notions of our superiority, they believe us all to be astrologers and doctors. In both astrology and medicine, however, they have their adepts, and great men never hazard a journey without choosing a favour. able conjunction of the planets for their departure. There are no fewer than thirty-five hakeems, or medicos, in the city of Bhooj; but unluckily for their fever patients, not one Sangrado amongst them all. In this strait the sufferers apply to a carpenter, who has somewhere learnt the art of phlebotomy, and operates on them with a phlem. They are equally at a loss for dentists, and the absence of a polished key is remedied by the use of a bent and rusty nail, urged against the offending tooth, by an unskilled practitioner. None of the sciences, either curious or useful, is known, even in its simplest elements, to these poor people, yet they show a desire for information, when one wiser than themselves excites their curiosity, which might, ably directed, prove a channel for their general improvement.”—Mrs. Postan's Random Sketches.

THE LAMA.

The lama is the only animal associated with man, and undebased by the contact. The lamas will bear neither beating nor ill-treatment. They will go in troops, an Indian walking a long distance a-head as guide. If tired they stop, and the Indian stops also. If the delay is great, the Indian becoming uneasy toward sunset, after all sorts of precaution, resolves on supplicating the beasts to resume their journey. He stands about fifty or sixty paces off, in an attitude of humility, waves his hand coaxingly towards the lamas, looks at them with tenderness, and at the same time in the softest tone, and, with a patience I never failed to admire, reiterates ic-ic-ic-ic. If the lamas are disposed to continue their course, they follow the Indian in good order, at a regular pace, and very fast, for their legs are extremely long ; but when they are in ill humour, they do not even turn towards the speaker, but remain motionless, huddled together, standing or lying down, and gazing on heaven with looks so tender, so melancholy, that we might imagine these singular animals had the consciousness of another life, or a happier existence. The straight neck, and its gentle majesty of bearing, the long down of their always clean and glossy skin, their supple and timid motions, all give them an air at once noble and sensitive. It must be so, in fact, for the lama is the only creature employed by man that he dares not strike. If it happens (which is very seldom) that an Indian wishes to obtain, either by force or threats, what the lama will not willingly perform, the instant the animal finds itself affronted by word or ges ture, he raises his head with dignity, and without attempting to escape ill treatment by flight (the lama is never tied or fettered), he lies down, turning his looks towards heaven. Large tears flow freely down his beautiful eyes, sighs issue from his breast, and in a half or three quarters of an hour at most, he expires. Happy creatures, who so easily avoid suffering by death! Happy creatures, who appear to have accepted life on condition of its being happy! The respect shewn these animals by the Peruvian Indians, amounts absolutely to superstitious reverence. When the Indians load them, two approach and caress the animal, hiding his head that he may not see the burthen on his back: if he did, he would fall down and die. It is the same in unloading: if the burthen exceeds a certain weight, the animal throws itself down and dies. The Indians of the Cordilleras alone possess enough patience and gentleness to manage the lama. It is, doubtless, from this extraordinary companion that he has learned to die when overtasked.-Foreign Quarterly Review. LOT'S WIFE.

Mr. Colman, in his agricultural address last week, illustrated the folly of modern fashionable female education by an anecdote. A young man who had for a long while remained in that useless state designated by "a half pair of scissors," at last seriously determined he would procure him a wife. He got the "refusal" of one who was beautiful and fashionably accomplished, and took her upon trial to his home. Soon learning that she knew nothing, either how to darn a stocking, or boil a potatoe, or roast a bit of beef, he returned her to her father's house, as having been weighed in the balance and found want ing. A suit was commenced by the good lady, but the husband alleged that she was not "up to the sample," and of course the obligation to retain the commodity was not binding. The jury inflicted a fine of a few dollars, but he would have given a fortune rather than not to be liberated from such an irksome engagement. "As well might the farmer have the original Venus de Medicis placed in his kitchen," said the orator," as some of the modern fashionable women." Indeed," continued he," it would be much better to have Lot's wife standing there, for she might answer one useful purpose; she might salt his bacon!"-American Paper.

London: WILLIAM SMITH, 113, Fleet Street. Edinburgh: FRASER AND Co. Dublin: CURRY AND CO.-Printed by BRADBURY AND EVANS, Whitefriars.

have been affected, so have communities. Bad calculation, bad management, and ignorance of the proper and most productive modes of colonisation, have caused the waste of much capital, created much misery, retarded, perhaps for a century, the growth of one settlement, and sometimes extinguished others. The way to look at the question, is to consider the greater portion of British colonisation to have been carried on during the thoughtlessness, ignorance, and folly of nonage. We have now risen to that time of life in the history of our nation, when all that we do should be planned with thought and carried on with prudence; and when the wicked and wanton trifling with the lives and morals of aborigines, the stupid waste of capital and resources, the heedless sacrifice of the natural love of country, and affection for home, should be either utterly abolished, or modified by all the means within our power. The great fact is before our eyes, that Britain MUST be an emigrating and colonising country. This is one of the conditions of our national existence; and upon the manner in which we fulfil these conditions depends much of our national prosperity, and much of the slower or more rapid progress of the world at large.

We have no colonies in Europe. If the Channel islands are considered a portion of Great Britain, then our foreign possessions or dependencies are, the little island of Heligoland off the coast of Holstein; the rock of Gibraltar; Malta and Gozo, in the Mediterranean; and the Ionian islands off the coast of Greece.

On the fatal long extent of the western coast of Africa-a coast whose records present so humiliating a picture of man, when half civilised, as were the Europeans who committed such atrocities, in their greedy eagerness after gold, and the bodies of their fellowmen-we have but a few possessions. The first is Bathurst, on the island of St. Mary, at the mouth of the river Gambia, where there is a population of about 3000: gold, ivory, bees-wax, and hides, are exported to England. Lower down-nearer the equator-is Sierra Leone-the "white man's grave"-with a population of perhaps 30,000; and still nearer the equator are our settlements on the Gold Coast-one of the hottest regions on the globe, and from whence, for nearly a century, upwards of a hundred thousand persons were annually carried off as slaves. Our settlements here are known as Cape Coast Castle and Accra; the fortress of Cape Coast Castle is built on a rock close to the sea. The European possessions on the Gold Coast are limited to a few fortresses, and some houses; in the interior are the great native kingdoms of Ashantee and Dahomey. Below Cape Coast Castle, in that upper portion or curve of the Gulf of Guinea, called the Bight of Benin, is the island of Fernando Po, taken possession of by the English in 1827-considered of some importance, as the Quorra or Joliha, one of the largest of African rivers, falls into the sea by several mouths, opposite the island. Crossing the equator, and standing well out to sea, for it is upwards of 1400 miles from the African coast, is the little speck of Ascension, where we have had a garrison since 1815, which has not only successfully disputed possession with the turtle and the rats, but has been the means of converting what was lately a "desert cinder" into a green and fertile island. Ascension is nearly 700 miles north-west of far-famed St. Helena.

We are now in the southern hemisphere, and about to make the passage of the Cape of Good Hope. How beautifully transparent is the atmosphere! how brilliant is the sky at night! The naked eye can perceive stars of two degrees less magnitude than in the northern hemisphere, and Jupiter and Venus shine out with startling refulgence. As we turn round the promontory, we may perceive that one of its three mountains has the shape of a lionone of nature's colossal carvings. On the northern side of Corsica, close to Bastia, there is another lion of nature's making, but on a much smaller scale than the one at the Cape-it is a rock which has the distinct appearance of a lion in repose. The colony of the Cape of Good Hope, though it has increased greatly in interest and importance, is of an awkward extent-stretching over

about ten degrees of longitude, and about two degrees of latitude, or containing an area of more than a hundred thousand square miles, with a population of only about one hundred and sixty thousand. Leaving the Cape, we must stretch across the phosphorescent waters of the Indian Ocean, where, in an expanse of about 1800 miles long and 2000 broad, only a few islands break the watery continuity, amongst which are our possessions of the Mauritius, with a population of nearly a hundred thousand. As we draw near the shores of India, may we not ask, Is not that vast empire to many of us in England little more than a NAME? Here, on the eastern extremity of that great peninsula, is ancient Ceylon, with its fragrant cinnamon and its pearl fisheries. It was known to the Greeks and Romans, visited and praised by Marco Polo and Sir John Mandeville, and now, in the hands of the British, is exemplifying what the powers of civilisation, rightly directed, will effect, in triumphing over the supposed immobility of the East. For the British have done and are doing, in Ceylon, more than the Romans did in Britain. They have interposed the hand of gentle authority between the natives and that cruel and ignorant native despotism which ground them to the earth; they have abolished pernicious native monopolies, and set free the labourers of the soil; they have opened the island, by penetrating it with roads, which are now covered with the vehicles of commerce; introduced a savings bank; effected economical reforms; and improved the administration of civil and judicial affairs. Ceylon is in extent of surface somewhat less than Ireland; when it is properly cultivated, and drained, and its jungles cut down, it will become, not merely more fertile than it is now, rich and exuberant as is its natural character, but it will become a very healthy island-perhaps as healthy as England. Its area is supposed to contain upwards of 24,000 square miles, and its population approaches a million and a half.

Shall we venture on the neighbouring continent? That empire is not a colony, and it is too large for us to glance at. Strange, that there should not be above forty thousand British subjects, to govern and regulate between eighty and ninety millions of people, spread over half a million of square miles. And not only so, but there are tributaries, allies, and independent states, to control, check, and keep in awe, whose population raises the entire number more or less in connexion with us to upwards of one hundred and thirty-four million souls! It is a tremendous responsibility!

We may relieve ourselves from a consideration almost painful by hastening across the ocean to the great island-call it a continent rather of Australia. Surely this is destined to be the seat of a new empire, where all the elements of civilisation will enter into fresh, if not new, combinations. Is it not vexing to think that we should have begun such an empire, by laying down an infected root! New South Wales has thriven by convict labour, in spite of its horrible immorality-but it requires no sage to tell that that prosperity contains a cancer within it, which must be cut out, or death will ensue. Here, on the southern shores, is that new colony, whose progress we are all so deeply interested in, for every friend of humanity is deeply interested in the working of any experiment, which is professedly endeavouring to show what may be the result of a right adaptation of human powers and resources. On the boundaries of the South Australian province lies Major Mitchell's newly discovered paradise, Australia Felix. "We traversed it in two directions," he says, "with heavy carts, meeting no other obstruction than the softness of the rich soil; and in returning over flowery plains and green hills, fanned by the breezes of early spring, I named it Australia Felix, the better to distinguish it from the parched deserts of the interior country, where we had wandered so unprofitably and so long." But opinions differ as to the general capabilities of Australia, taken as a whole. "Our present knowledge," says the "Colonial Gazette," "of the immense Australian Continent does not extend to onesixth part of its surface; and, how little it has hitherto been made available for colonisation appears from the fact that, of 694,969 persons who emigrated to all the British Colonies in the