One morning, a newly-come English gentleman, of middle age and grave aspect, was looking over the list of arrivals. He was struck by the mysterious letters, as every one else had been.

"F.R.S.," muttered he; "it can't be! yet there the letters are! Who would have thought it ?"

The clerk was called up, and requested to explain. He knew nothing more than that one of the boarders and lodgers had put his name down with that handle attached.

"Show him to me!" said the Englishman, eagerly.

"There he goes now, sir," said the clerk, pointing to our hero.

The next moment "Old Shell" felt his hand grasped by another hand, whilst his arm went through a rapid and vigorous motion, familiarly known as the "pumphandle action." It was the Englishman; his face beaming with cordiality.

Delighted to meet you, sir! Had not the slightest idea of seeing one of our society on this side of the water! When were you a member? My memory is so defective."

"Member of what?" said "Old Shell," half surprised, half angry.

"Oh, don't be so modest, my dear sir!"

Modest! the deuce! What society ?"

"No bashfulness, now! You are a Fellow, I know." "Dash my buttons, stranger!" exclaimed "Shell," thoroughly indignant; "do you call me a fellow ?"

"Fellow of the Royal Society, sir. You mistake my meaning. Fellow of the Royal Society of London."

"I am no Londoner, man; I come from down South, I am an oyster-man, I am.”

I do.

66

Why, what on earth does F.R.S. mean, then, attached to your name?" said the astonished Englishman, science and surprise beaming from his countenance. Well, stranger, I don't care if I do tell you! You see I like oysters, I do; and F.R.S. means adzackly nothing more nor less than Fried, Roasted, and Stewed!"

ON THE GENERALITIES OF LITERATURE AND ART.

THE influence of general principles, and the modes of their development and application, have constituted one of the many curious and puzzling problems connected with the science of mind. From the earliest ages of speculation we find philosophers attempting to solve these knotty questions; and even at the present hour the subject of our abstract-general conceptions is wrapped in great obscurity. We are not going, however, to attempt a solution of these enigmas, nor trespass on the peculiar province of the metaphysician. Our aim is more practical and humble. We only wish to speak of matters within the cognizance of every man who thinks at all of his own inward principles of action. We desire to treat of matters immediately connected with light literature and art. Authors, critics, and artists are just made what they are by the use they make of general rules and principles. These are the tools they are constantly working with. To make a few remarks on the divers ways these are applied, and influence our judgment of men and things, is the chief object we have now in view.

General principles are likewise of great moment in all the branches of scientific and philosophical truth. Indeed, many thinkers have affirmed that all philosophy,

properly so called, whether material or mental, is nothing more than a mode or fashion of collecting or arranging general rules and axioms. On this point we shall not enlarge. The subject would prove too vast and recondite. We shall, therefore, confine our observations to literary works of a biographical, historical, imaginative, descriptive, and critical kind; and in art, to that department of it which goes under the common denomination of painting. In these several branches of mental skill and labour, we shall be able to elucidate many singular phenomena of our intellectual economy, and to point out to the ordinary reader many of the sources of his mental pleasures and acquisitions.

There is a piece of mental machinery set in motion in every individual, which performs its wondrous operations almost unheeded and unrecognized. It may technically be termed synthesis and analysis; or, in more homely terms, gathering together into a heap, and a subsequent separation of parts. Upon the manner this piece of mechanism is worked, rests the degree of merit and effect which belongs to every literary and artistic work. The adroitness and skill displayed in wielding this power determine the share of fame which we render to authors and artists. This standard of value is founded, however, upon some of the most subtile powers or energies of our nature. It can be best illustrated by examples.

Let us take, for instance, a literary work in biography. We write the life of a man. How do we do this? Do we recount every deed or movement of his life? By no means. We first take a glance of his career as a whole, or in the abstract; survey it a little;

look at its totality from various aspects; and then begin to separate, to cull out, and to descant upon particular parts or incidents in the individual's narrative. But in doing all this there is a constant reference to some general end, object, principle, impression, purport, or design. This general thing is perpetually before the mind's eye. It is to us what the line and plummet are in the hands of the master builder. We are always culling, and squaring, and rejecting, and amalgamating our biographical materials so as to effect the grand object we have in view. Perhaps we want to write the life of a friend--a divine of some eminence. Well, we must work up our mass of facts and observations to make him as interesting and amiable as possible. Our materials must be tinted and coloured in conformity to the end we have in the mind's eye. There must be unity and consistency displayed in our workmanship. Hundreds of incidents in our friend's life would not answer this purpose. It would be no use to give a faithful account, were it even possible, of all he had done, eaten, drank, or travelled. All such things, though they make up, with other things, the life of every man, that of the divine as well as others, yet they must nearly all be kept in the background. Should any particular incident be dragged into open day, it must be for the purpose of telling a tale, or pointing a moral, interesting to the world at large. The life of even the most illustrious of the human race, is made up of very low and intrinsically worthless materials; and it is only by putting them through the crucible of generalization, that they can be made transparent and shining, so as to rivet our attention and esteem.