but cause them to be read-think less of the ignorant heathen abroad, and more of the debauched heathen at home-labour less to convert foreigners, and more to civilize their

own countrymen.

There is a matter which we would strongly press on the attention of the exalted and opulent part of our lovely countrywomen. Very many servant girls are annually driven to prostitution in the metropolis by want. They lose their places, perhaps, from no fault of their own-they are often refused characters, when those who ought to give them are more blameable than themselves-they have no friends-they go into lodgings, pawn their clothes, get into debt, and are then forced on the town. We speak of that which is not rare, but which occurs continually. It is useless to say they have parishes, because they will not, and often cannot, go to them. If the ladies, to whom we speak, would form an establishment for providing female servants out of place with board, lodging, and needlework, on their producing reasonable evidence of their virtue and honesty, we are sure it would be highly beneficial to society. It would be the more beneficial, if open to all young females of such character in want of employment.

To a large extent, marriage is now dispensed with among the lower orders of the metropolis. The mechanic must have his mistress as well as the gentleman; and great numbers live together as man and wife, without being married. We mention the evil, and leave it to others to provide a remedy.

With regard to the attendance of these orders at divine service, much might be done by the following means:-1. Masters might stipulate for it with their workmen; a man thinks it necessary to send his domestic servants regularly to church, although their general conduct is always under his eye; but he makes no effort whatever to send his workmen and their families thither, although a large part of their conduct is free from his inspection. This gross inconsistency ought to be abandoned.

2. Benevolent assistance to individuals and families, might be given on ‹ the express condition, that those re

ceiving it, should regularly attend some place of worship.

3. Regular attendance at divine service, might most properly be required of all persons receiving parish relief. This would be highly instrumental in making such attendance habitual among the lower orders.

If ladies of rank and opulence were to form themselves into societies, for the purpose of distributing twice, or only once, in the year, articles of clothing to the wives and children of the more needy labourers, it would be highly beneficial. They might restrict their bounty to women of good morals, and regular attendants at a place of worship. Such ladies are extremely charitable, but they do not use their gifts as a means of promoting morals. To a large extent, the wives of the labouring classes in the metropolis are about as partial to liquor, and as irreligious, as their husbands. When this is looked at, with reference to the charge which rests on them in regard to their children, every one will admit that it calls loudly for remedy. Who is so fitting to administer such remedy as the more exalted part of their own sex?

In all this, do not look at the metropolis as a huge undivided whole. If the magistrates of Westminster be in many respects grossly inefficient, why not give it a corporation, on a proper model, for the purpose of supplying it with competent ones? If need be, why not do the same in Southwark? After giving to each grand division a local government, strong in both physical and moral power, give one to each parish; and where the parishes are too large, divide them into districts, and give one to each of the latter.

Nothing is of greater importance to society than good parish government, and few things are more neglected. Select vestries have been in many matters beneficial, but they have become such a source of division and contention, that they perhaps now produce more evil than good. A few active executory officers, invested with proper powers, seem preferable to a parochial parliament. The great deficiency of parish government at present is, it pays scarcely any attentiont o morals. If each church had acertain

number of surrounding streets assigned it as a district, and it were made the duty of the clergyman, and a few individuals appointed to act with him, to keep the district free from low brothels, &c.-enforce proper conduct in places of public resort -watch the morals of the barbarous streetsrepress drunkenness and Sunday labour-cause the lower orders to attend divine worship,&c. &c., this would yield the greatest advantages. The latter would be largely increased, if the wealthy inhabitants of the district would combine for the purposes we have described. By thus breaking the population into small parts, it might, as a whole, be kept in the best state of moral and political feeling, and also in the best circumstances.

This would be highly serviceable in procuring the requisite knowledge of applicants for parish relief, although the large parishes should not be thus divided in respect of the Poor-rates: it would give to every parish full knowledge of the character and circumstances of its poorer inhabitants individually, and thereby prevent much imposition and abuse. Our conviction is, that it would diminish the Poor-rates materially.

In thus giving to the clergyman powers and duties in all things relating to religion and morals, it would be better to separate him from other parts of parish government.

What we have said touching the metropolis, is equally applicable to all large places. Great manufacturing and trading towns have sprung up in all directions since the founding of corporations ceased; and they have nothing worthy of being called local government. On the one hand, there are vast combined masses of the working classes in a great measure independent of their employers; and, on the other, a high constable or bailiff, a few magistrates, perhaps hired ones, and a police, destitute of moral weight, and ruling only by coercion; religion and morals are disregarded-the mass of the poor cannot enter a church-private charity is little attended to revolutionary newspapers are about the only sources of political instruction-Sunday labour is made almost necessary by hunger-the lower or ders are separated and estranged

from the better ones-and peace, saying nothing of order, is only maintained by brute force. This is a local tyranny; its fruits are vice, demoralization, turbulence, barbarism, disaffection, and every thing that can produce a general tyranny.

With regard to country places, we will only say a word. In the North of England the unmarried servants board and lodge, and the married ones board, in the house of the farmer. This is invaluable, in the first place, for giving them instruction; in the second, for placing their moral and general conduct under proper control; and, in the third, for uniting them with their betters. What flows from it? A virtuous, peaceable, well-affected, and, to a very large extent, religious peasantry. In the South of England, the servants, single and married, do not board and lodge with the farmer; they never enter his house to gain knowledge, and they are, saving what relates to their labour, independent of him in conduct. What is the fruit? A vicious, barbarous, disloyal, and criminal peasantry. We need not dwell on the lesson this supplies; but we will say, it proves abundantly, that if there be not moral, there must be tyrannical, govern

ment.

The country is now called on to decide between popular government and the contrary-between self-government, and a virtually independent Executive-between the government of opinion, feeling, habit, and influence, and that of flinty law and hired mercenaries. Let it be assured, that if it select the new system, the local tyranny will very speedily create a general despotism. The trusting of every thing to restrictive law and police, must, in the nature of things, separate the lower classes still more from their superiors, and sink them deeper in irreligion and barbarism. Bad as the present generation of them has become, it was reared in better times, and it received instruction and feelings which it cannot wholly get rid of; but what is to be expected from the next? The question, what kind of men and women will the children of these classes be? ought to make every friend of the empire tremble.

Let us, then, like our fathers, live

without this disguised martial law, these spies, informers, and sub-tyrants. Like them, let us be ruled by morals and feelings, by the virtues of all classes, and by keeping the poor in friendly communication and union with their superiors.

But where is the ground for hope? Previously to late years, when the government was really a popular one, a new law was at once repealed, if it were injurious or distasteful to public feeling; in proof, we may point to a new marriage law, and to many others. But the laws fabricated in these days, are declared to be, like those of the Medes and Persians, unalterable. A new system or statute operates destructively, and is condemned by the mass of the population; but no matter, Parliament has adopted it, therefore it must be preserved. The main defence of all pernicious legislation now is, Parliament voted certain resolutions in one year, and sanctioned certain principles in another; the public interests and feelings must be disregarded. Public men and Parliaments are now in their own eyes infallible; and one of them must not, if even the salvation of the empire depends on it, undo what another has done. This is one of the most despotic and detested violations of the spirit of the constitution which modern times have seen; and it is absurd to say, that where it prevails, there is popular government. Of course, the establishment of the New Police will, we imagine, be pronounced a sufficient reason for retaining it.

ciency of the precious metals, when the country has for years had an unexampled excess of them; and far be from us the greater folly of believing that the corn law is an evil, and that the taxes form the only obstacle to a free trade in corn; and far be from us the worse than folly of leaping, in the course of a few months, from one set of opinions to another. Judging from the debate on Lord Wynford's motion for enquiry, the present Ministry is now the only party of character willing to save what is left of property and subsistence.

We say, who can trust a Whig Ministry? because the past affords no ground for trust-because the Whigs have a bad character to get rid of, and a good one to establish. We tell the new Ministers that they are not trusted; and yet that all men are anxious to trust them, provided they will prove by their conduct that they deserve it. In this anxiety we share, and grieved shall we be, if they give us cause to oppose them. But to gain that confidence which the community at large wishes to bestow on them, they must look at something more than abstract doctrine. Instead of floundering about in vague generalities touching the precious metals, bank-notes, and machinery, they must go to work like men of business; they must ask the farmer separately what he finds in his market to prevent his getting proper prices, not only for his corn, but also for his cattle, wool, tallow, and other produce; in like manner, they must ask of every producer separately, what he finds in his market to cripple his trade, and grind down his prices. By this they will soon discover causes and remedies.

But who can trust a Whig Ministry? It is not from hostility to the present Cabinet, that we put the question. We, at least, think it the best amidst the bad, and more trust-worthy than any other party. Far be from us the folly of believing that public distress flows from a defi

principles and systems, the work of predecessors, and their own past sanction-and that they must remove loss and suffering, or lose office to themselves, and the monarchy to the country. The times are perilous infinitely beyond what the Legislature seems to dream of; and, alas for all! if remedy be again refused until extorted by insurrection.

THE TURNED HEAD.

HYPOCHONDRIASIS, * Janus-like, has two faces-amelancholy and a laughable one. The former, though oftener seen in actual life, does not present itself so frequently to the notice of the medical practitioner as the latter; though, in point of fact, one as imperatively calls for his interference as the other. It may be safely asserted, that a permanently morbid mood of mind invariably indicates a disordered state of some part or other of the physical system; and which of the two forms of hypochondria will manifest itself in a particular case, depends altogether upon the mental idiosyncrasy of the patient. Those of a dull, phlegmatic temperament, unstirred by intermixture and collision with the bustling activities of life, addicted to sombrous trains of reflection, and, by a kind of sympathy, always looking on the gloomy side of things, generally sink, at some period or other of their lives, into the "slough of despond"-as old Bunyan significantly terms it-from whence they are seldom altogether extricated. Religious enthusiasts constitute by far the largest portion of those afflicted with this species of hypochondria-instance the wretched Cowper; and such I have never known entirely disabused of these dreadful fantasies. Those, again, of a gay and lively fancy, ardent temperament, and droll, grotesque appetencies, exhibit the laughable aspect of hypochondriasis. In such, you may expect conceits of the most astounding absurdity that could possibly take possession of the topsyturvied intellects of a confirmed lunatic; and persisted in with a pertinacity-a dogged defiance of evidence to the contrary-which is it self as exquisitely ludicrous, as distressing and provoking. There is generally preserved an amazing con

sistency in the delusion, in spite of the incipient rebuttals of sensation. In short, when once a crotchet, of such a sort as that hereafter mentioned, is fairly entertained in the fancy, the patient will not let it go! It is cases of this kind which baffle the adroitest medical tactician. For my own part, I have had to deal with several during the course of my practice, which, if described coolly and faithfully on paper, would appear preposterously incredible to a non-professional reader. Such may possibly be the fate of the following. I have given it with a minuteness of detail, in several parts, which I think is warranted, by the interesting nature of the case, by the rarity of such narratives, and, above all, by the peculiar character and talents of the well-known individual who is the patient; and I am convinced that no one would laugh more heartily over it than he himself-had he not long lain quiet in his grave!

You could scarcely look on N without laughing. There was a sorry sort of humorous expression in his odd and ugly features, which suggested to you the idea that he was always struggling to repel some joyous emotion or other, with painful effort. There was the rich light of intellect in his eye, which was dark and full

you felt when its glance was settled upon you:-and there it remained concentrated, at the expense of all the other features;-in the clumsy osseous ridge of eye-bone impending sullenly over his eyes-the Pittlike nose, looking like a finger and thumb full of dough drawn out from the plastic mass, with two ill-formed holes inserted in the bulbous extremity-and his large liquorish, shapeless lips-looked altogether anything but refined or intellectual. He was a man of fortune-an obstinate bachelor-and was educated at Cambridge, where he attained considerable dis

&c.

tinction; and at the period of his introduction to the reader, was in his thirty-eighth or fortieth year. If I were to mention his name, it would recall to the literary reader many excellent, and some admirable portions of literature, for the perusal of which he has to thank N. The prevailing complexion of his mind was sombrous-but played on, occasionally, by an arch-humorous fancy, flinging its rays of fun and drollery over the dark surface, like moonbeams on midnight waters. I do believe he considered it sinful to smile! There was a puckering up of the corner of the mouth, and a forced corrugation of the eyebrows-the expression of which was set at nought by the conviviality-the solemn drollery of the eyes. You saw Momus leering out of every glance of them! He said many very witty things in conversation, and had a knack of uttering the quaintest conceits with something like a whine of compunction in his tone, which ensured him roars of laughter. As for his own laugh-when he did laugh-there is no describing it-short, sudden, unexpected was it, like a flash of powder in the dark. Not a trace of real merriment lingered on his features an instant after the noise had ceased. You began to doubt whether he had laughed at all, and to look about to see where the explosion came from. Except on such rare occasions of forgetfulness on his part, his demeanour was very calm and quiet. He loved to get a man who would come and sit with him all the evening, smoking, and sipping wine in cloudy silence. He could not endure bustle or obstreperousness; and when he did unfortunately fall foul of a son of noise, as soon as he had had "a sample of his quality," he would abruptly rise and take his leave, saying, in a querulous tone, like that of a sick child, "I'll go !" [probably these two words will at once recall him to the memory of more than one of my readers]-and he was as good as his word; for all his acquaintances-and I among the number-knew his eccentricities, and excused them.

Such was the man-at least as to the more prominent points of his character-whose chattering black servant presented himself hastily to ny notice one morning, as I was

standing on my door-steps, pondering the probabilities of wet or fine for the day. He spoke in such a spluttering tone of trepidation, that it was some time before I could conjecture what was the matter. At length I distinguished something like the words, "Oh, Docta, Docta, com-a, and see-a a Massa! Com-a! Him so gashly-him so ill-ver dam badhim say so-Oh lorra-lorra-lorra! Com see-a a Massa-him ver orrid!"

"Why, what on earth is the matter with you, you sable, eh?-Why can't you speak slower, and tell me plainly what's the matter?" said I, impatiently, for he seemed inclined to gabble on in that strain for some minutes longer. "What's the matter with your master, sirrah, eh?” I enquired, jerking his striped morning jacket.

"Oh, Docta! Docta! Com-aMassa d-n bad! Him say so!— Him head turned! Him head turned"

"Him what, sirrah ?" said I, in

amazement.

"Him head turned, Docta-him head turned," replied the man, slapping his fingers against his forehead.

"Oh, I see how it is, I see; ab, yes," I replied, pointing to my forehead in turn, wishing him to see that I understood him to say his master had been seized with a fit of insanity.

Iss, iss, Docta-him Massa head turned-him head turned !-d-n bad!"

"Where is Mr N, Nambo, eh?"

"Him lying all 'long in him bed, Massa-him d-n bad. But him 'tickler quiet-him head turned”—

"Why, Nambo, what makes you say your master's head's turned, eh? What d'ye mean?"

I

"Him, Massa, self say so-him did-him head turned-d-n.” felt as much at a loss as ever; it was so odd for a gentleman to acknowledge to his negro-servant that his head was turned.

"Ah! he's gone mad, you mean, eh-is that it? Hem! Mad-is it so?" said I, pointing, with a wink, to my forehead. "No, no, doctor-him head turned!-him head," replied Nambo; and raising both his hands to his head, he seemed trying to twist it round! I could make nothing of his gesticulations, so I dismissed him,