metaphor from the science of mathematies, I would call this error a surd. -For, gentlemen, as the root of that quantity which is denominated a surd, can never be extracted, so it is impos sible to eradicate error from the minds of those unenlightened individuals who have given themselves up to the study of logic.-Gentlemen, a facetious poet of our own country has drawn two lines, I beg pardon, has written two lines, which, if they be not precisely true, are, at least, pretty nearly so. I mean the poet Hudibras, who says,― For all the rhetoricians' rules Teach nothing but to name their tools.' (Here the worthy Doctor was accustomed to laugh, and I eagerly seized this opportunity of giving vent to my risibility. I would have given the world to have been allowed the same indulgence when he came to his ab surd metaphor.) "And, Gentlemen," (the Doctor was accustomed to continue,) that I may not seem to advance anything without good and sufficient proof, I pledge myself to prove anything, no matter how absurd, by the syllogisms of logicians. For instance, gentle men, A bullock has a liver,.. Therefore, I am a bullock.' Can anything be more ridiculous? Gentlemen, I have no patience with a science or an art that can be thus prostituted to the indiscriminate defence, right and wrong, of truth and falsehood. With much less equanimity can I look upon those men whose judgments are so shamefully perverted, that they feel no shame in asserting that for its ingenuity at least, if for nothing else, the art is not to be despised.-Ingenuity indeed !-Why, if logic be ingenious, much more, then, are mathematics ingenious. Shew me the logician who, with all his boasted ingenuity, can prove that "one equals two."-Now the mathematician can prove it. I can prove it, Gentlemen; I will prove it. = "Let ar, then a x-x2-now, take a2 from each side of the equation; then a x-a2x2-a2, that is, a (x-a) = (x+a) (x−a); divide both sides by -a, then aa+a, that is, a=2a, (for a); and, therefore, 12. Q. E. D. "This, Gentlemen, is no jeu d'esprit -no punning, quibbling proof, but a true, incontrovertible algebraical proof. Admire, Gentlemen, admire the glori ous and omnipotent science of Alge bra, which can prove so much-which can demonstrate, by the use of a few letters, that which the uninitiated in its mysteries would pronounce to be impossible. But I have not done yet. By the same science, I can prove that 6 NOTHING divided by nothing equal two. No one can dispute that a2x2 a. This is quite clear. a-x This was too much, and I really felt myself called upon to make some reply to the " ingenuity" and "excellence" of a science, which was thought to be so much superior to logic, be cause the latter could be "prostituted to the indiscriminate defence of right and wrong." I interrupted the worthy Tutor, by remarking, that, as he had before proved one to equal two, nothing divided by nothing must, of course, equal one. He hesitated for a few minutes, and then replied, "Sir, I like an inquiring spirit, but I must not be interrupted in my lecture. For the present, however, let me observe, that you will have greater cause for wonder yet:-we have a quantity, sir, in algebra less than nothing." I closed my book in consternation and despair. And now, worthy reader, I wish to leave off for the present, and yet I do not exactly know how to accomplish the same without appearing somewhat abrupt. I almost wish that I had been confessing rapes, murders, treasons, and so forth, that I might here" sink back exhausted at the bare recollection of my crimes," after the laudable example of the heroes of many tales of horror now extant. Then I could perhaps persuade Mr Ebony to suffer his compositor to close with divers little asterisks, as is the custom with the Minerva press authors. But unfortunately I have no deeds of blood to atone for; and I shall therefore conclude with endeavouring to put my readers in good humour at parting, by relating a favourite illustration of the doctrine of ratios, which our Tutor, who sometimes did the facetious, was in the habit of favouring us with. Talking of ratios, he was accustomed to say, "Gentlemen, in finding the ratio between any proposed quantities, it is absolutely necessary that these quantities should be in some measure rela ted to, should have some affinity with, each other. For instance, Gentlemen, it would be ridiculous for any one to ask me how far it was from the foot of Westminster Bridge to the first of April." Au revoir, gentle reader, I really must conclude for the present. A SUMMER EVENING'S LOVE STORY. COME, Harriet, sit a while; this July eve Than this green closet,-not by gardener's shears Those dangling boughs, which, tent-like, close us round A tale of hapless love-the place, the month, For that kind heart which throbs at others' woes. Here in this grassy circle, underneath This roof of living thatch, while spring was young, With heart-shaped leaves, and the brown honey-bees As if for once she had forgotten thrift, Here, then, these innocent lovers met once more, 4 E When hope was lost, to snatch a last adieu, They had been early playmates; and when time And spread its leaves to th' sun, till, all unthought of, And know no fruitage. Reginald D'Arcy was Of ancient English blood, a house that kept The living gospel was again declared The only rule of life; when Pope and Monk Of name, and fair possessions, rivall'd not Of a fair scholar, who, abandoning Of Smithfield were enkindled by Rome's breath, And slaked with English blood-their blood who fought The fight of Faith, and died the martyr's death. For the good name of Gandolyn appears Shrined in the piteous annals which record With those of varying worship having been Connived at by his kindred,) thought to find He, therefore, wooed The fair, not altogether openly, Nor yet clandestinely it was a young And timid love, that brook'd not others' eyes They took and gave their trothplight, each to each, Casts all its hopes, designs, joys, griefs, and cares, This sudden resolution-nought availed, That the poor lovesick youth betrayed the ties Which held his honour gaged, his heart enthralled, The peace of all his future wrapt in them. Right to the mark. Remonstrance from his son Dared not exhibit her to poverty And all the hardships which must fain ensue On an illicit marriage. In despair An hour of groans, and blood-shot vacant looks, It was an eve like this; the lime was hung For Lydia will'd that he should leave her there, Of two young hearts while breaking,) she remain'd A handful of those bunches-frail mementoes Of this sad meeting-sickly in their hue As her now bloodless cheek-and soon to be As sere as her lone heart! She caught them up And what their farther lot? Dispart those boughs, To die Consumption's victim. 'Twas not so- And deadly malady-she died in peace. Would you know more of Reginald? Climb the Alps, As guest, accept the hospitality Which the monastic brotherhood extend To all who travel by St Bernard's walls, And you will find him there. Not long did he His eyes tow'rds England's cliffs, and when he reach'd Which bears St Bernard's name, he then made known That he would take the cowl, and cord, and gown, |