down for a light-minded trifler, altogether wanting in vital piety'; or conventional worldly dullards, polished inanities, capable themselves of nothing but soft insipidities, or pompous platitudes, standing much upon dignity, and superciliously lifting their eyebrows, as much as to say, 'an eccentric, improper person.'

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There is another class of men, who are a great social nuisance-your formalists, of whom my Lord Bacon somewhere says something to this effect— 'that it is a ridiculous thing and fit for satire, to see what shifts and contrivances these formalists have, what prospectives to make superficies, that hath only length and breadth, appear a solid, that hath also depth.' Among the absurdities of these men, the most ridiculous (if it did not also excite one's spleen) is the way some of them have of imagining they enjoy a monopoly of the gift of prophesying. Propose any scheme, advocate any plan not of their devising, forecast any results, they shake their empty heads, as if nobody's eyes were so good to see into a millstone with as theirs.

"There is something very impressive in solemn silence to those who are impressed by it."

CHAPTER XXVI.

PRELIMINARY TO ANOTHER.

SOME learned man-I forget his name has written a history—I cannot recollect of what country, but I believe it is Iceland-in which occurs a chapter entitled "Of Owls," containing only these words: There are no owls in Iceland."

I wish to devote a chapter to the record of a remark of the Doctor's, which I think is a negative pregnant, of more sententious fulness than even the learned historian's.

I am willing to be considered an humble imitator of the learned man, in the matter of the length of my chapter; but I do not wish it to be thought I have borrowed the title of it from him. I should have put it at the head of my chapter if

he had never written his-for it is the only title the chapter could have with any fitness. It is as much mine as though he had not used it before me.

A learned friend of mine casting his eyes over what is said above-but not, alas! until after the casting of the chapter-tells me that my vindication of my title for the next chapter is needless; for that the learned historian's chapter is entitled "Of Snakes," and declares: "There are no Snakes in Iceland."

Now what to do? Ο στερεοτυπτον στερεοτυπτον -stereotype plates are stereotyped. It is much easier to fill out the blank of this page with a confession of my mistake, than to make the needful alterations in the plate. I do so therefore.

Besides, it is possible my learned friend may be himself mistaken-in which case all that stands above should stand. Let every reader decide, if he can, on which side the error lies; and if he cannot, let him comfort himself with the thought how little it matters-only as, doubtless, the Icelanders would rather be without snakes than without owls, let him hope that I am the one in error: so shall the charity of his spirit be a blessing to himself-which is another comfort. How much good one may get from every thing!

CHAPTER XXVII.

OF OWLS.

"OWLS," said the Doctor, "can do nothing but

look wise."

12

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE DOCTOR SAYS SOME THINGS THAT SOUND VERY STRANGE TO MRS. GARLAND-BAD CHRISTIANS AND GOOD HEATHENS-MR. GRIM-THE NECESSITY FOR A GOOD GOD.

“OPENED Japan to Christianity, have they?" said the Doctor. "What a pity! It did not matter much when the British opened China. The people were already so bad Christianity could not make them much worse. But the Japanese were so much better and better off than they are likely to become now."

"What shocking stuff you are saying," exclaimed Mrs. Garland. She is a friend of Mrs. Oldham's, and was passing the evening at Greystones. The two ladies were sitting on the sofa at the farther end of the library, consulting about an embroidered pincushion, when Mrs. Garland's at