really believed they might be of some slight use to the present generation of young men. Of their general sincerity I have no doubt, though a passage here and there occurs in which the author seems to have got up the feel ing for the sake of writing about it. You will judge whether they are suitable to your journal.

Jan. 2.-I foresee this will be a remarkable year in my life, and I am determined to record its progress. The years I passed at college were barren-how could they be otherwise? What were mathematics to me, and what was I to mathematics? What even were the more genial studies which are encouraged in these ancient foundations? Interesting, no doubt, to a certain extent; for it is true, though Mr. Campbell says it, that distance does lend a sort of enchantment to the view, but nowise germane to the matter, nowise connected with the feelings and sympathies of which, as a citizen of this age, I am conscious. And then, all our social intercoursehow much it partook of the same character! How little it savored of reality, and yet how desperately we struggled to give it that taste! There was none of the imaginary quietness of the cloister,-for, to the best of our ability, we were men of the world; and nothing of the genuine bustle of society, for our attempts to mimic it, though very praiseworthy, were eminently unsuccessful. Henceforth the course of my life will be different. Stiff breezes, of course, frequently; sometimes real storms; now and then a raking fire from some hostile vessel; but still it will be a straight, steady, onward course, a conscious progress; not that miserable tossing which brings with it the sensation of sickness, though we know all the while that we are only in

"A painted ship Upon a painted ocean." My studies henceforth will mean something; my converse with men and- -no, I did not mean women, though, by your smiling, Sir, you seem

to say so will all tend to something; and, come what will, that is a satisfaction. I will arrange my plans at once, (what delight in being able to arrange my plans for myself, without the interference of tutors and statutes!) and adhere to them. Let me see-to law's grave study-umph!—how much must one give to that? Will six hours do? Say seven; then there will remain seventeen. Give seven to sleep, and five to nature; the deuce is in it, if one cannot make something of the other five. Political economy? Yes, that is a good practical study, particularly belonging to this age. I begin with Mill's "Elements" tomorrow. That will occupy, say two hours. Two from five and there remain three: an hour and a half of this will do for metaphysics,-an hour and a half still on hand. Hang it, I shall have too much time. Well, one will want so much for odds and ends :poetry, novels, and now and then a little history; and, perhaps, a new language.

Jan. 5.-Law studying is very unfairly abused. Blackstone is very pleasant reading: I was quite annoyed to break off much earlier than I intended to-day, in consequence of an engagement to visit the National Gallery with some ladies. It is very hard that these public institutions are not open at more convenient hours. To this, in fact, may be attributed nearly all the idleness of young men. Dined out: a sad interruption to one's general studies.

Jan. 7.-Have cut all the pages of Mr. Mill's work, and read the first chapter. It is a very wonderful book. What a model of a style! each sentence a light post carriage, fitted up for accommodation of one idée nette, as the French call it, and with none of the heavy baggage of clauses and qualifications. And a safe style; you are so sure that it is not tricking you; every word has been filtered half-adozen times through a logical sieve, till it is perfectly free of all figurative particles; and no thought is admitted which is not willing to take the form

of a dilemma. He disgusts me with the vagueness and intangibility of the law books.

Feb. 1.-Law is an intolerable study. No plain general principles; nothing clear, nothing demonstrable; all a loose collection of facts and formalities. That I should submit to such drudgery! It is dry, disagreeable; and is it quite right? am I not destroying the powers of my mind by doing so? and is not this a crime, the greatest that can be committed? And what valuable time-time wanted for so many other studies-is consumed in these ruinous occupations! Five hours have I buried this morning in "Preston upon the Quantity of Estates ;" and, when one has made due allowance for eating, sleeping, talking, walking, and visiting, five hours really constitute a very considerable majority of all that belong to me. I will take the subject into my serious consideration.

March 3.-What a glorious relief! I have thrown off the incubus of a profession, and henceforth shall find, as Solomon did, a time for all things. There is a glorious satisfaction in the sacrifice I have made. To strictly meditate the thankless muse, instead of laboring to get on in the world! How I despise-no, that is not the word-how I pity the poor slaves who are still toiling night and day in the service of Mammon, grinding at his mill, trembling at his frown, or quailing beneath his lash! And it is not the mere luxury of freedom either, though that were much-there are the solid, tangible advantages. What a host of hours have I now at my disposal, which will yield a miserable return, if I get less than cent. per cent. out of them in the increased length of days, which wisdom confers on us; for Crichton died an octogenarian at thirty, and Newton was an older man than Methusalem. All my day to myself! How shall I dispose of it? Political economy-By the way, it is very strange, that, perfect writer as Mr. Mill is, his book has made less

impression upon me than any I ever read. It is strange that a logical grappling-iron should not keep as firm hold of the mind as metaphorical birdlime; but so it is, and, therefore, henceforth I will try Ricardo or some of the Dii Minores of the school-Metaphysicians-Locke, Reid, Berkely, Hume-then a course of Greek philosophy, down all through the later Platonists-then have at the Germans, Kant, Fichte, Schiller, and the rest of them, for which purpose the language must be learnt, but that will be the work of a very short time. Then to history. I doubt whether history is of any use-however, it must be read; so it may as well be done thoroughly. I will read once more through Herodotus and Thucydides, then Diodorus Siculus, and the rest,-then all the Romans, reading Niebuhr to illustrate them then the old Latin-English histories and the Chroniclers-then to France-the old history will not take long-Joinville to illustrate chivalry, Davila because every one reads him; and then Thierry will do the rest. But the Revolution! Heaven and earth! there are ninety-six volumes must be read through, or a friend of mine assures me I shall not know a word about the causes of it, or the actors in it. Well, be it so. Then Italian history, Macchiavelli, Guicciardini; and to cut the matter short, as I have time on my hands, I will read through Muratori. Then there's

only Spain and Germany left, and these will be soon settled. Next comes the literature of the different countries.

But I am very sleepy so this, with my plans for studying physical science, I will resume another day.

April 1.-How very absurd a notion it is, that the mind can gain anything by mere inhaling of all useless habits, simple reading is the most utterly, absolutely useless. We gain more by half an hour's writing than by a whole day of book-worming. This is the most important practical truth I have yet found out; it has saved me a world

of trouble that I had created for myself; by acting upon it, my mind has gained more quickness and energy than it was ever conscious of in any previous part of its existence. The exercise of thought acquired from writing has enabled me to discover the holes in my metaphysical science, the vagueness of my notions on morals, the incoherency of my critical dogmas. The light that has burst in upon me, through the crevice of this one discovery, is dazzling almost to painfulness. I must positively betake myself to some of my old reading habits, in order that I may have a shade against its excessive brilliancy. And

what a difference there is in the actual effect of the two pursuits! To read for its own sake, every one who has read knows and feels to be absurd; whereas, writing, which is the expression of a man's own thoughts, is good simply because it is so. We write, because we have something to say, and all ultimate pleasure is quite needless.

Aug. 3.-A lady asked me yesterday to show her some of my compositions in prose or verse. Ha ha! to suppose that anything could remain in my desk, or that any one would take the intolerable trouble of manufacturing compositions for any purpose except to influence the opinions of the fools called the public; or sell them to the knaves called Journalists! I have believed many delusions in my time; but that was one to which I never yielded-thanks to my good genius. Sept. 1.-This day commenced a novel. It will certainly be completed in six weeks; till that time, I shall seclude myself entirely from society, remove into a small lodging in Austin Friars, rise punctually at three o'clock in the morning, and to prevent any disturbance from without, dispense with a servant, and order the knocker to be muffled. My diet will be, in the morning, dry toast, sopped in weak tea; at dinner, barley-broth, and, now and then, (but rarely,) a potatoe; in 43 ATHENEUM, VOL. 2, 3d series.

the evening, for the purpose of waking early, very strong coffee.

Afternoon.-Have written three chapters. Character of my heroineblue eyes, pale complexion, (mem. "Oh, call it fair," &c.,) capable of intense feeling, and rides a bay filly (given by her uncle, an old East Indian); does not understand Latin or keep an album. A glorious creature! I am quite in love with her myself. What delight there will be in writing about her!

Sept. 4.-Did not rise till ten this morning; for what use can there be in doing so till I remove into my new lodging? The numerous interruptions * * Have just finished an argument with D upon the origin of ideas. I never met with a man so wedded to falsehood. Some of the remarks I made it was quite impossible for him to answer; and yet he would not allow that he was convinced. It is pitiable to see a man of some talent so obstinate and ignorant. I have pinned him down. into my novel. It is always well to strike while the iron is hot; so, for a time, I have interrupted the series of my story to introduce him.

Sept. 12.-Dined out yesterday. Hateful necessity! Emily C— is a beautiful creature, and unquestionably very clever. There was scarcely an observation I made which did not seem to strike her in the same way as it did myself. This has considerably changed my conception of my heroine. Hazel eyes are decidedly preferable to blue. Emily C is fond of billiards, and maintains that ladies have a full right to play with a cue. My heroine shall play with a cue. I will not read Political Economy-that's fixed. I escaped by a miracle from tumbling into an argument after dinner, with old Sir John L—, about the Corn Laws; and if I had, then should I have gone with the Cain-mark of a young doctrinaire upon me for the rest of my life. The change in my plan has occupied me so entirely that I have added nothing to the work

to-day; but my time has been well employed in thinking.

Sept. 8. Saturday.-I have been adding greatly to my stock of characters during the last few days. Have been at eight parties. Society is, after all, the proper field for observation. There is very plausible theory about plotting, meditating on one's own heart, and so on; but what, after all, does it end in ?-self-torment or sleep. I will venture to say, that the man who sits down to think, invariably is either lulled to slumber by the bee-like humming of his thoughts, or kept awake by their hornet stings. In society, on the other hand-[Hiatus valde deflendus.]

November 1.-If I had not heard the controversy which has just taken place between D- and M― upon the old subject of ideas, I could not have imagined that it was possible for a human being to be so utterly deficient in logic as the latter. The views adopted by the former, and the reasoning by which he supported them, were absolutely unanswerable, to one who knows anything of the experience of his own mind; and yet the coolness with which his opponent contradicted him! The more one believes, the more one is a man. M- believes nothing; he is therefore not a man.

March 9.-And so Louisa Mordaunt is dead! How well I remember the cheek that I saw two months ago so very pale and transparent, covered all over with the rosiness of childhood. Good heavens! it is not ten years since the time when I used to cultivate her youthful ambition for climbing trees, and to tease her by pulling down her long tresses, till they almost reached her feet, when she was summoned to show off in the drawing-room, and to row about on the lake, taking care that she should be well splashed at landing, all which she paid off by a hundred girlish wiles, worth a thousand of mine for cunning and wit. Only ten years! and during that time I have read-no, not much of that either, but changed the whole of my

opinions at least six times. And what of that what have I had ever to do with these loose gloves, that I have stripped off so easily whenever they pinched my hand or became wet, or went out of fashion? Nothing! nothing! If they had belonged to me, they would have adhered. I cannot throw a leg or an arm to the winds whenever I get dissatisfied with them; they are mine, and so were those hours of childhood! They have passed into my character, and they will not perish! Louisa! you were worth all the French and English and German philosophers that ever flung dirt into the well from which truth is never to be drawn up.

April 7.-L

says, he believes nothing but what is revealed to him through his senses: two months ago, I should have despised him for the assertion; now I envy him. Believe only what he perceives by his senses! Would to God I could believe as much! The paper on which I am writing, the ink which stains it, the hand which holds this pen, would to God that I could believe in them! I ask not for a faith in unseen realities; the things around me are too impalpable for my grasp. I remember once in a typhous fever, while I was lying awake at night in that exquisite torture of weakness which takes hold of every separate limb and of the entire frame, I saw a form walk into my room and seize the light, and place itself at the foot of my bed. And then it put out the light,-for there was no need of it,and gazed at me with two gory eyes that were bright enough to illuminate the whole room. And then with its long thin fingers with which it was pointing all the while at me, it plucked out those eyes and pelted me with thein. And I looked, and for a moment there was merely the hollow open sockets; but soon I saw starting into them other eyes more gory and bloody than those which it had cast away, and again it hurled them at me, and again they grew up more red and horrible. Oh! that I could see the men and women about me with only one

which that scene presents itself to me in my sleeping and waking dreams!

Many leaves are torn out here: in a loose piece of paper, I found the following, written in a paler ink than the rest. Leonatus Posthumus was a liar. The being who embodies all that is contradictory and false in creation; the being with whose nature all discords are in harmony, and everything that is barmonious in discordance; that being is not a woman, but a young man, between the ages of nineteen and twen

is his, and yet he is consistently selfish; mawkishness is his, and yet he endures the mawkishness of no one but himself; he is indifferent, yet not tolerant; he does not contemplate, yet he never acts; he hates everything, and here is his solitary praise; because in that everything is included the one thing that deserves to be hated-himself. Oh! that I were a lawyer again! The ruin of my mind, indeed! Ha ha ha! that joke will be the death of me.

ALL associations between animals of opposite natures are exceedingly interesting; and those who train animals for public exhibition know how attractive are such displays of the power of discipline over the strength of instinct. These extraordinary arrangements are sometimes the effect of accident, and sometimes of the greater force of one instinct over the lesser force of another. A rat-catcher having caught a brood of young rats alive, gave them to his cat, who had just had her kittens taken from her to be drowned. A few days afterwards, he was surprised to find the rats in the place of the drowned kittens, being suckled by their natural enemy. The cat had a hatred to rats, but she spared these young rats to afford her the relief which she required as a mother. The rat-catcher exhibited the cat and her nurslings to considerable advantage. A somewhat similar exhibition exists at present. There is a little Menagerie in London where such odd associations may be witnessed upon a more extensive scale, and more systematically conducted, than in any other collection of animals with which we are acquainted. Upon the Surrey side of Waterloo Bridge, or sometimes, though not so often, on the same side of Southwark Bridge, may be daily seen a cage about five feet square, containing quadrupeds and birds. The keeper of this collection, John Austin,

states that he has employed seventeen years in this business of training creatures of opposite natures to live together in contentment and affection. And those years have not been unprofitably employed. It is not too much to believe, that many a person who has given his halfpenny to look upon this show, may have had his mind awakened to the extraordinary effects of habit and of gentle discipline, when he has thus seen the cat, the rat, the mouse, the hawk, the rabbit, the guinea-pig, the owl, the pigeon, the starling, and the sparrow, each enjoying, as far as can be enjoyed in confinement, its respective modes of life, in the company of others,-the weak without fear, and the strong without the desire to injure. It is impossible to imagine any prettier exhibition of kindness than is here shown. The rabbit and the pigeon playfully contending for a lock of hay to make up their nests; the sparrow sometimes perched on the head of the cat, and sometimes on that of the owl,-each its natural enemy; and the mice playing about with perfect indifference to the presence either of cat, or hawk, or owl. The modes by which this man has effected this, are, first, by keeping all the creatures well fed; and, secondly, by accustoming one species to the society of the other at a very early period of their lives. The ferocious instincts of those who