"There is a Dr. Smith, of whom my friend, the Duchess, has been telling me wonders ?" "A Dr. Smith?" hesitates the fashionable apothecary.

"Dr. Hamilton Smith."

"Oh! Dr. Hamilton Smith!-Exactly!-A highly respectable man,-lives in George Street, Hanover Square, and drives a pair of handsome bays, with a theory of his own upon digestion. He has written a pamphlet or two.-A most highly respectable practitioner."

"Dr. Smith attends Lord Lansden's family, and the Lambtons, and Grevilles; in short, he is very highly spoken of. Supposing we call him in ?"

"Why, really, but here is Sir Richard Colchicum's carriage!" ejaculates the apothecary, brightening. "Most punctual man, Sir Richard Colchicum! Just as the clock is striking! No one with whom I like better to attend, than Sir Richard Colchicum! Good morning, Sir Richard, good morning!"

"Good morning! Your Ladyship's most obedient. What news to-day of my patient?"

"Nothing can be worse! Lord Casserole neither eats, drinks, nor sleeps," replies her Ladyship drily.

"Pulse low, appetite failing," appendixes Camomile.

"Quite right. Just as we expected," cries Sir Richard; "the effect of the last change of medicines. His Lordship is going on as well as possible. We don't want him to eat,-we don't want him to drink,—we don't want him to sleep. We only want him to recover."

"But when I tell you, Sir Richard," "Tell me nothing, Madam; tell me nothing. Sir Jacob will be here in a minute; (just struck two by St. James's!) and then, with your leave, we will visit our patient."

"But it is necessary you should know, Sir Richard,"

"All that is necessary for me to know, Madam, I can inquire of Lord Casserole's own man. Brown is always on the spot; and Very strange that Sir Jacob don't make his appearance. "I know Sir Jacob has just now a very arduous attendance on Lady Jemima Lullaby," insinuates Camomile. "She has several sick children; and will scarcely let our friend escape out of her nursery."

"Then he shouldn't make appointments in other people's drawing-rooms. I must be in the Regent's Park by half after two."

"Then do you really think, Sir Richard, that I need undergo no immediate uneasiness on Lord Casserole's account? I should be sorry, you know, that people had reason to talk of my being seen every night at balls, or the opera, if there were any immediate danger."

"Go where you like, ma'am. What good could you do by staying at home? Lord Casserole appears to be accustomed to the services of his own man."

"And Brown is such a kind attentive creature!"

"I would as soon have Brown sitting up with his Lordship, as sit up with him myself," cries Camomile emphatically.

"Damned strange that Sir Jacob can't keep his time!" cries Sir Richard, dragging out something resembling a watch, by something resembling a drag-chain. "I must be off in ten minutes."

"I saw by this morning's papers that the Duke of Lancashire is suffering from a slight catarrh; and Sir Jacob is probably detained at Lancashire House," interposes the benignant Camomile.

"Then, with your leave, Mr. Camomile, we will proceed at once to Lord Casserole's room, for my time is precious," growls Colchicum.

Certainly certainly, Sir Richard. And whatever instructions you may think proper to leave, I shall be most happy to stay and report to Sir Jacob. Ha! I think I hear a carriage?"

"It has stopped next door, at the General's! Sir Jacob is always so late!" cries Lady Casserole, peevishly. "Really these Consultationdays make me quite nervous!"

"Ah! there he is at last!" ejaculates Camomile. "I know his footman's knock."

"If My fellow were to make half as much noise, I would knock him down," says Colchicum. "My rule is, When you see straw in the street, ring!"

"An excellent regulation."

"Can't conceive how it can take a man all this time to make his way up one pair of stairs! I must be off in five minutes."

"My dear Sir, we must make allowances! Our friend Sir Jacob is not quite so young as he was," insinuates Camomile, with a knowing smile.

"Sir Jacob Gemini!" announces the solemn butler, while a gorgeous footman throws open the door; and in glides, with serpent-like sinuosity, the most courtly of modern leeches.

"Ten thousand, thousand pardons, my dear Lady Casserole! I must throw myself upon your Ladyship's forbearance, though I have actually been forced to tear away a button in escaping from the Duke of Lancashire, in order to keep my appointment here. Your Ladyship knows his Grace's little foible? Quite impossible to get off, when once he fastens himself upon you! Sir Richard, your kindness will, I am sure, excuse Camomile, my good fellow, how are we going on up stairs? How does poor dear Lord Casserole find himself, since I had last the pleasure of meeting you here?"

me.

Why, I fear, not quite so well."

"Ah! just what I was anticipating with Lady Jemima Lullaby; who, I do assure you, my dear Lady Casserole, takes the warmest interest in his Lordship's melancholy position. Not a day passes that she does not say to me, ' My dear Sir Jacob, what is your real opinion of poor dear Lord Casserole ! Do you think him likely to go off suddenly, or not?'"

6

"Lord Casserole eats very little, and scarcely sleeps at all," observes the disconsolate lady.

"Exactly the condition of our poor friend, the Dowager Lady Bronchia," says Sir Jacob, in a confidential aside to Camomile; turning round to Lady Casserole to add, "Her ladyship has swallowed only half a Naples biscuit soaked in punch jelly, since Sunday morning; and her dame de compagnie, Miss Twaddle, assured me, last night, that they had not been able to get the old lady to sleep, although she had read through to her, twice over, the whole last number of the Quarterly Review. Poor soul !"

Supposing we go up to Lord Casserole ;-I must be off in a minute," growls Sir Richard Colchicum.

"With all my heart! Lady Casserole will, perhaps, do us the honour to accompany us. If any thing could tend to animate the spirits of our poor patient, it would doubtless be a visit from her Ladyship! Must I show you the way, Sir Richard? Camomile, my good fellow, pray precede us, that we may not break in unannounced. Ha! little Fido,-good dog,—down Fido,-down, Sir! The handsomest spaniel in London; a King Charles, of course? Lady Casserole, pray allow me to congratulate you, en passant, on this little bit of Dresden. Quite a bijou! Rittener's, I presume? Charming staircase! The Carlton Terrace houses boast the easiest staircases in town-and such a view! Sir Richard, have you ever noticed the Surrey hills from that window? Camomile, may we come in ?"

66 Well, Mr. Brown, how is Lord Casserole today?" inquired Sir Richard.

"Bad as he can be, Sir; has not opened his lips these fourteen hours."

"Will your Lordship give me leave to feel your pulse?" says Sir Jacob, extending his own hand with amenity, and taking out a Bregnet watch at the same moment.

"The Doctor is asking you, my Lord, to put out your arm," whispers Brown to the sick man. "Ugh! ugh! ough! ough! ough !"

My Lord don't seem to have much sense of what is going on," rejoins Mr. Brown, much affected.

"Never mind, don't disturb him," says Sir Richard.

"Is your Lordship aware of any change of symptoms?" mildly expostulates Sir Jacob, speaking in the patient's ear.

Ough! ough ugh ugh ugh!" gasps the

sufferer.

"Ah! I see exactly. His Lordship's articulation is bad; but his skin is much more moist, and his complexion brighter. He is going on better than I had anticipated."

"Going on?-going off !"-murmurs poor Brown, as the scientific phalanx at length followed Lady Casserole out of the sick man's chamber. "Thank God, I shall never be great, or rich enough to be cursed with the best attendance of the first physicians!"

"You will find paper, and a standish, Sir Jacob, on the writing-table in the back drawing-room," says Lady Casserole, in a tone of

plaintive sentimentality, after having escorted down stairs the three gentlemen in black. “I am sure poor Lord Casserole's case will receive every attention at your hands."

"My dear Madam, you must not allow yourself to despond," whispers Sir Jacob in her Ladyship's ear, as he bows her out of the room; pressing her hand at the door, to enable her to deposit in his own a two guinea fee, in its wrapper of silver paper.-" Rely upon our giving his Lordship's state our most deliberate investigation."

And out sailed Lady Casserole ; and the door closed gently after her,—and, lo! the consultation commenced.

"I have not seen you this age, my dear Colchicum!" cries Sir Jacob, in an altered voice. "What have you been about?"

"Spending Easter, at my place in Buckinghamshire."

"And what did you do with His Royal Highness?"

"Persuaded him he was well, and did not want me."

"And with Lord Flamborough ?"

"Died last week."

"And the rest of your patients?"

"Made them over to Camomile here; who gave me plenty to do on my return. Eh! Camomile? Ha ha! ha!"

"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"

"And how are the birds this season?"

"Most abundant. That week's hard rain in the month of March, did considerable harm in the low-lying lands; but my preserves are in capital order."

"Would you like the shooting over the Duke of Lancashire's farms? I am sure he would give you the deputation. Shall I ask him?” "Thank you."

"Anything doing in the House last night?" Nothing particular,-only the leather tax. Sir Semi Colon made a tolerable speech." "That man is getting on. I am confidentially assured that the King thinks very well of him."

"The King-thinks !"

"By the way, you see Lord Grey, every day. What is his story about Sir Robert? Is he to get his peerage?"

"Not if they can get him without it!" "They say his wife has been interfering.Women,-always women !”

"Always women!-So Lady Sanctify is gone off at last!"

Lady Sanctify! with whom? One of her pet saints of the Lock Chapel ?”

By no means,-a Cornet in the Tenth!-a lad of eighteen!"

"I must not forget to tell that to Lady Rollick. It will do her more good than all my prescriptions. Do you dine at the Club to-morrow?" "No. I can't stand Willis's wine. I dine with a turtle party at Bleaden's."

"Nothing like Bleaden's lime-punch, Sir Jacob, eh?"

"Or when one is sure of one's dear Camomile to supply one's place, eh! Gemini ?"

"For my part, the last time I dined at the Club"

"I trust, gentlemen, I find your opinion tolerably favourable?" sighs Lady Casserole, gently opening the drawing-room door, and advancing towards the gloomy group beside the fire-place.

"No cause for despondency that I can discover," cries Sir Richard, with admirable presence of mind.

66

"After the maturest deliberation," adds Sir Jacob, we see no motive for any immediate change of medicine. My friend Sir Richard Colchicum and myself have decided that it will perhaps be as well to strengthen his Lordship's diet of chicken broth, with an occasional cup of beef tea; and every second night, previous to his Lordship's night-draught, an almond poultice must be administered about. the region of the chest, an almond poultice, my dear madam, softened with rose water; (Mr. Camomile has promised to be so obliging as to attend and see it

with your Ladyship's permission, at the same hour, we shall have the honour of meeting here, to look in upon his Lordship again. I have the honour, my dear Lady Casserole, to wish you a good morning."

"Lady Casserole, madam, good morning." "Your Ladyship's most obedient," added the several leeches, each pocketing his fee.

"I won't send to Dr. Hamilton Smith till after Thursday: this poultice may perhaps do wonders," mused the Viscountess, as their carriages rolled from the door.

And the poultice did wonders. There was no farther occasion for change of drugs or change of doctors. The Morning Post duly announced that "On Thursday morning last, after a lingering illness, at his house, in Carlton Terrace, the Right Honourable Viscount Casserole departed this life, deeply lamented by his family and friends."

Not a word was added of the lamentations of the gruff Sir Richard and gracious Sir Jacob, on finding themselves under the painful necessity of effacing another name from their list of Consultations.

THE Old Black Crow has printed fast
His foot-mark in my brows at last.
Long he'd waited, I might see,
For a downright dig at me-
Crooked furrows, one, two, three,
Branching wide and blent in one,
Graven to the very bone-

Deeper were never in sand or snow;
A murrain seize the Old Black Crow!

As yesternight in bed I lay, Over the past and care-worn day Brooding, betwixt wake and rest,

The Old Black Crow stood on my breast;

A gaunt and grisly fiend was he

As ever sat on a blasted tree,
With an evil croak and an evil eye,

On the left hand of the passer by.

A creeping chill went through my hair,

As he stood calm and silent there,

Eying me over limb by limb

He look'd at me. I look'd at him.]

Thrice he gaped with open beak;
Thrice I thought he was going to speak.

And "What would'st thou ?" I groaned in dread;
Then spake the Old Black Crow, and said,—

"Thou hast done well-thou hast broken the spell, And the Old Black Crow shall reward thee well. Thou hast learned in the days of thy youth, Much that is, and that is not truth;

But I'll teach thee a chant from the legends of old, That by tongue of mortal was never told.

"In sooth I was a fair young crow Fifty hundred years ago, When Father Time said unto me, "This fair young crow my bird shall be. The wearing hours shall not consume The sparkling gloss of his jetty plume. Summer, winter, autumn, spring, Never shall weary his noble wing;

Through all seasons, and every clime
He shall follow the march of time,

And sit in the boughs of the new-born trees
Heralding all my victories.'

Since the date of that old scene

My master has very busy been;

And I have had enough to do

To trumpet his course the wide world through. Many a proud and powerful thing,

Conqueror, custom, creed and king,

Orator, poet, priest and god,

Have bow'd beneath our iron rod.

Many a wall'd and tow'red town

To the finest dust has been crumbled down.
We have robb'd the mighty deep, and pent
Him straiter within the continent-
While many a green and happy plain,
That once bore wine, and oil, and grain,
A thousand fathom lies under the main.
Such beauty on earth shall no more bloom
As we have spoil'd in the rotting tomb.
Such ravishing of sweet sounds intense,

Such passionate moving eloquence

Shall breathe no more from mortal mould,

As we have hushed in silence cold.

In searchless heaps of stifling dust
We have buried the hearts of the wise and just,
And cover'd away the memory

Of many glorious thoughts and free
From the yearning spirits of after men,
Never to live in the light again.

"Father Time is growing grey;
His scithe is almost worn away;
As he turns the eternal sand,
What a palsy shakes his hand!
But I alone have not yet known
Ailing in sinew, muscle, or bone;
Age has never had power on me

To change one feather that you can see;

I grow neither fat nor thin,

But the warm blood ever runs merry within;

And for me the storm is never too strong,
Nor the night too dark, nor the day too long.

"I love to sit on a ruin grey,
In the fading light of a dying day,
Overlooking some kingdom wide,
Desolate now from side to side,
That was peopled once by busy men,

As kingdom will never be peopled again.
In many a mass of mouldering stone,
Pillar and arch lie overthrown ;

And a river, where navies once could ride,
To its very bed is shrunk and dried.

Then I think of the world in the power of its prime,
And croak for my master a hymn sublime,
Saying, "These are the glories of Father Time !"

"I love to mutter a farewell croak,
In the topmost boughs of a falling oak,
One moment before the last axe stroke;
Or to perch on the tottering pinnacle
Of some old church-tower, passing well.
For ages hath the north wind blown,
With all his might on the uppermost stone;
But it struggles well with the stress of the blast,
And, blow as it may, rides firm and fast.
The Old Black Crow just plants his feet,
When over it topples, and into the street;
And away with a laugh and a shout we go,
Crying, Heads below there!-heads below!'

"But the loveliest sight that ever I see, And the sweetest of all pastimes to me, Is to play with a plump and fleshy cheek, Where the red blood runs in a purple streak,

And a sparkling eye and a forehead fair,
That is cluster'd about with good thick hair.
I love to steal at the midnight hour,
Into that slumberer's lonely bower,

To fan his shut eyes with the powerful sweep
Of my wings to a deeper and heavier sleep;
My feet in his richest of curls to twine,
And stamp in his brow, as I'll stamp in thine!"
I could not move even to start,
The blood lay so heavy about my heart,
As over my body the Old Black Crow,
With deliberate steps, came striding slow.
He paus'd a moment on my chin,
With a look between a scowl and a grin,
Then springing up came heavily down,
With a clutch upon either temple bone.
How long there the fiend might stay,
I dare not write, I dare not say:
But every moment seemed to me,
A separate eternity;

For as every separate moment flew,

A heavier weight his body grew,

'Till the feet, with a sharp and stinging pain, Seemed to have trodden into my brain;

And hotly trickling down my face,
Drops, like blood drops, pour'd apace.
Sudden he stooped, and peck'd away

One hair from my forehead! Alas! it was grey.

I could not stir, I could not speak;
The grey hair stuck in his grisly beak,
As away from foot to wing he sprang,
And a fiendish laugh through the chamber rang.
The vision was sped with the morning sun,
But see what the Old Black Crow has done!

IMPORTANT improvements in the state of human society are seldom effected abruptly. The commencement is commonly unnoticed: by degrees the process enlarges, and the alteration ferments through society, until, in due time, the effects are seen, in the new circumstances which arise, and in the novel influences of those circumstances on the motives and objects of the people.

For the last four centuries, commerce and manufactures have, in this way, been giving a different form, and a new life to the various nations of Europe. Feudal influences have been undermined and gradually supplanted, until, in some countries, they have almost disappeared, whilst in others, their decline is going on at an accelerated pace. The modern British system of manufacturing by machinery, and by large numbers of workmen, brought together in a small space for that purpose, commenced only about half a century ago, and already it has effected a revolution in the internal arrangements of society, introduced new maxims for regulating human conduct, and altered habits of thinking on matters of national policy. The greater division of labour, and the consequent extended interchange of its produce, have stimulated to amazing improvements in means of conveyance; and it has been found that with commodities superior knowledge has been distributed through the country. The press, as the most powerful agent in this distribution, has gone on enlarging its sphere of operations, until it has penetrated into the most remote and thinly inhabited cor

ners of the land; whilst in the more populous parts its influence has borne down every other, and reigns triumphant. Two or three centuries since, all the instruction received by the mass of the people, was communicated only from the pulpit:-by degrees books were called in to aid the clergymen; and, as improvements in those books were made, the people became less dependent upon the clergy for instruction. In the present day, periodical publications are, to a considerable extent, superseding both standard books and the services of the Church. And it is curious to observe, that the clergy themselves, contrary to their wishes, are assisting in effecting this alteration. A class of amusing periodicals, not having any particular religious char.. acter, had already made their way to every vil lage and hamlet in the country, and were drawing the attention of their readers to subjects of a merely amusing or temporal nature. To prevent their minds from being thus weaned from religious subjects, periodicals of a more spiritual nature were actively circulated; and, to suit the leisure of the class for whom they were intended, they were published so as to reach their readers on Sunday, with the full attraction of their novelty. Thus, by insensible degrees, and generally in opposition to their Own wishes, circumstances have driven the clergy to forward that proceeding which is reducing their own importance, and increasing that of their formidable rival-the press. these alterations in the internal state of the country, political parties have, from time to time,

From