being put upon half-allowance, or of being reduced altogether; of this we complain, in unison with the poor. We like to see old English countenances and customs; we love all orders of good people, and we wish to draw them nearer together; we pray for that equality of taxation, which may leave to the land. holder and agriculturist the means of entertaining his neighbours cordially and generously, without being out done or run down by the man of funded property, who has none of the ties of time and neigh bourhood, and to whom the land can only be dear in proportion to the price of his acres, and the profit which he can draw from them. Re move from us those who are stran gers in their estates, and smile not on the merry faces of their tenantry.

We yet enjoy the sight of the red berry ornamenting the surloin, and the misletoe suspended from the oaken beam. The heart of oak is still dear to us; nor is Betty, running away from an innocent kiss beneath the druidical branch, a person be, neath our friendly notice; and we mourn when we contemplate the" deserted village," the Lord or Squire's home shut up at this season, the non-resident's mansion barricaded against the traveller or visiter, and the glebe edifice untenanted by him who reaps all its advantages; and, above all, when we cast a glance at the Green Isle, whose numerous, athletic progeny, pine from hunger at such a time, whilst others revel in plenty, and whose nobles and landlords abandon the half-ruined pile erected by their more patriotic ancestors. It must be matter of grief and affliction to all good hearts to count the lengthy list of absentees spending their fortunes on the Continent in such times as these, and yearly es

tranging, more and more, their posterity from those feelings, amities, and relations, which Providence and nature wisely produced, and would promote were the duties to be paid to each, not neglected and lost sight of.

"Christmas comes but once a year," is the vulgar adage of old England: happy they who feel the truth of the remark, and the one time so marked by benevolence and felicity, by charity and good cheer. But can the poor children of Erin join in this assertion? Will it come once in a lustrum, or in a session of parliament? Will a birthday or a coming of age of the Lord of the Manor or County produce a substitute, for it? We know not;we doubt, and we regret; but whilst we still have ringing in our ears

"Gunpowder treason and plot,
Which never can be forgot,"

"Yet let us bope again to hear,

Christmas comes still once a year."

The poetry of the two last lines is not a bit worse than that of the forsentments, but to awaken the slummer; the sentiment is not to foster rebering social principle. Let us then not give up the hope, that the weak and fying touch of kindness and of comweary heart may feel the revivifort; and that the New Year and its antecedent feastings and ceremonials, may never become so much out of vogue, as to leave but a tear or a sigh to commemorate them; or that sentiment, or phrase, a song, or a they may be merely recorded by a quotation; and that the last may not be a truism at the same time, going off together

"With a hie ho! to the green holly, All feigning is friendship, most love's a mere folly."

Eur. Mag. Dec. 1823.

3 S

SIR CALEB CAXON was an opulent ironmonger. He succeeded his honest father in the business, and carried it on for half a century. His stock in trade was valuable, and his customers numerous and substantial; yet the large capital of which he found himself possessed arose more from his father's perseverance and temperate habits than from any enormous profits, extensive commerce, or lucky hits in the way of business. He never speculated, not even in the funds, but saved and put by, and put by and saved again. He rejected many offers of putting out his money at high interest, and was contented with the receipts from the shop, and the legal interest of his country. He held monopolists and usurers in abhorrence; and often ob'served, that it was a toss up with such men, whether they were to make a fortune or a bankruptcy. The same principles he taught his son, and the same success attended his exertions.

Old Roger Caxon was florid and corpulent, good-natured and plain dealing, sober and industrious; so that his neighbour, Mr. Cheshire, a rich cheesemonger and vender of pork, thought him worthy of his only daughter, to whom he gave fifteen hundred pounds in marriage, which the ironmonger then considered a handsome portion. At Mr. Cheshire's demise Mr. Caxon found a new increase to his capital, arising from, the stock sold off, money for the good will from the successor in the cheese, butter, and bacon line, houses in Newgatestreet, and cellars and counting houses, advantageously let, in Elbow-lane, Bride-lane, Petticoat-lane, yea, and in Amen-corner, the whole forming a valuable property. Instead of living up to his income, leaving off trade, or changing his habits, he never changed a guinea idly, and kept to his stingo as his only treat, or a bowl of punch on high days and holidays. When he

The Rosciad.

paid the debt of nature he left no other debt unpaid, but was "removed from over the way" amidst the regrets and good words of all his neighbours.

Caleb, his only child, was no chicken when the honest citizen took his leave of the shop and of the world together; he had drudged for twenty-four years with the old man, and felt inclined to go on twenty more, being at this time turned of forty. He was single, but not without his sympathies. Dolly Do-allthings, who was housekeeper, cook, butler, and slut, had cast a wicked hazle eye upon him, and be felt that he was under the wand of the enchantress. At the same time she despised the shop-and there was only one little dirty boy, called boots, a scruitures des scriatures of male appearance in the dark premises. Caleb, now the head of the house, soon found that it was a pity to work Dolly so hard, and two assistants were forthwith procured. Dolly began to look more and more captivating, but was so highly puffed that Master Caxon's widow could not help thinking that the girl was getting above herself, The old lady, however, not long surviving, Dolly became governess of domestic concerns, and was on a friendly and familiar footing with Master, from which a little accident arose, natural enough in such cases; but the bells of St. Brides silenced all slanderous reports, and the neighbours could not misdoubt (the lady's own words) that all's right. Master Caxon, now first kept an open shay, and had a lodging at Hackney, where his spouse presented him (at a very early period) with Miss Mariar Caxon. The next year she wished to have fresh hair, so she removed to Islington, where a house was taken; and upon her producing a male heir she prevailed upon "my spouse" to set up a snuff-coloured coach, with red wheels, and to have an iron-grey livery, turned up with orange of a

rusty appearance, but not sparingly laced with gold, and with an ironbound hat, which put the beadle of St. Martin's-le-Strand to the blush. Notwithstanding all this greatness Master Caxon laboured on in his counting-house, and kept a severe eye upon the ledger; so that, as money makes money, the age of iron became the age of gold. Ten years of fagging, quill-driving, and attending to the shop, now raised Caleb Caxon, Esq., citizen and ironmonger, to all the civic honours in succession. The Mayoralty was a heavy burden (honours were 80 thrust upon his plain and homely habits); and but for the senior Sheriff, who was an intelligent man, and used to good company, the worthy high magistrate would never have got through his operate duties, which, however, were very flattering to the Lady Maress (so she used to subscribe her name). At this lucky juncture an address was to be presented; and our late venerable Monarch, who was nothing slack at knight-making, put the sword on the brawny shoulders of the ironmonger, and he with difficulty arose, Sir Caleb, as large as life. He now felt his weighty duties more than ever; and but for his colleague, the Sheriff, an active magistrate and a gentlemanly man, Sir Caleb might have been upon his marrow bones until now. His was, indeed, a friendly lift. On his return home he found Lady Caxon intoxicated with greatness and arrack punch; and, in the delirium of her felicity, she persuaded the Mirror of Knighthood to pack up his wardrobe (the robe or gown not the least essential), and to occupy a house in Bloomsbury; but that being, as she said, "too nigh Oburn," she moved him again to Harley-street, and, lastly, to St. James's-square. The fatigues of office brought ill health on the Lord Mayor; and, as soon as a new one was elected, he, for the first time, visited a watering place, Ramsgate, where Mariar Dorothear, (who added Ma's name without an act of Parliament) first made her debut. Master Caxon was sent to Eton, and thence to college; and they both of them now began to be ashamed of Pa' and of the irontrade. Lady Caxon was determined

to strike a stroke; and priming the Ex-Lord Mayor with wine, to which he was not much accustomed, she carried her point, and made him promise to give up business. Never did Phoebus more heartily repent the promise, extorted from him by his thoughtless son Phaeton, than Sir Galeb did the moment de tendresse, which wrung from him his iron treasure. She might be compared to Le Chanteur, who tira de Lucifer des soupirs des sanglots et des larmes de fer. But the reproach of," You, a Gentleman and a Knight, and not keep your word!" carried the day. A valuable consideration was given for the business by his foreman, with an annuity for my Lady's life; and she triumphantly exclaimed, "Sink the shop."

Sir Caleb now hoped to enjoy retirement and quiet, but my Lady, prevented his projects. A vis a vis was first set up; the livery changed to crimson; four huge wasteful footmen hired; two of whom, with long canes, like Cane and Able, always followed my Lady. Cares increased with Sir Caleb's notoriety, and peace fled from Eglantine Villa, the Knight's country seat. Every thing perplexed the worthy citizen,-dislocated from the neighbourhood of the Old Bailey, and transplanted into the region of fashion. To furnish his Villa Madam stopped at no expense; yet neither herself nor her partner could compass the matter. In order to keep up the ball she first named a billiard table; it was got;-and young Caleb's collegian acquaintances eat up the Alderman, picked the son's pockets, and disturbed the repose of the whole family by gambling at it all night. But my Lady insisted on their games going on because there was an honourable Edmund of the party, and it was right that her son should form high connections, and she had Miss Mariar to get off her hands. libary, or library, was the next object: Sir Caleb bought books as he would have purchased iron, by the hundred weight; and he had them highly gilt on the back, and bound in morocco (calf would have been more of a piece with the man); but then there were niches for eight busts, and he was sadly put to it to

The

fill them up with great men, ancient and modern. He got as far as Shakspeare, Milton, Rousseau, and Voltaire. My Lady named William Tel. "Tell!-the devil!" answered Sir Caleb; "why, I tell you, he was a republican."-" He was no publican at all," sharply retorted Lady C-. "He was," replied the Ex-Lord Mayor; "a republican, a publican, and a sinner." The idea of malt suggested another idear to her Ladyship: "Mr. Whitbread!"-" He's not high enough," quoth the Knight, you might as well have Muster Whitbread, the baker."-" Cæsar!" exclaimed my Lady. Sir Caleb shook his head. "Cicero !"-"That will do (he wiped his face). Well, there's five of them. "Locke!" said Miss Mariar." No, no, my dear; that smells of the shop."- "Lord Bacon!" said my Lady. "No-that would be a personal reflection on your grand-mother," replied the Knight, with a sigh. "Some king," guessingly articulated Mariar; "for instance, Charle Magne, or Henri Quatre."-"No," observed Pa, we must not put kings among the commons; we'll have William Pitt, Earl of Chatham; there's six of 'em, and I will write to the Ex-Sheriff, who is a man of letters, for the other two names." Lady Caxon submitted to his consideration that this would be betraying his ignorance, so she thought a little, and then proposed Admiral Lord Hawke and Sir Christopher Wren, who were approved of nem. con. Touching this same nem. con., Miss Mariar asked M'a one day the difference between nem. con. and crim. con. Her Ladyship, who knew neither, told her that it was time enough for her to learn that, and that they did not suit the like of her. The next embarras de richesses was the pictures. Mariar Dorothear was for the Italian and Flemish schools, but her Lady - mother broke out with, "E feekin,

66

pretty taste indeed! We should soon have a Flemish account of Pa's money if it went that way. How many bars, and bolts, and hoops, and" Hinges," introduced the Knight with a groan, for he saw upon what the argument hinged.' No," recommenced my Lady; we will buy bargains. I'll have nothing but full-lengths. Generals, Admi

rals, Bishops, and Nobles with stars on. My stars and garters! Lord, our wisitors will be dumfounded when I introduces them as our old hancestors-the heads of the family

and they will be ourn, for we shall have bought and paid for them; a nice distinction at the rest end o' the town!" The idea delighted the whole family; and this would have been the first tranquil night that Sir Caleb had enjoyed since he left off business, if his son had not arrived unexpectedly from Trinity College, in a tandem, with a drunken companion, and had not broken the parfour windows by way of raising the family. My Lady, however, was soon put out of pain by seeing a dasher of fashion, as she called him, with young Caleb; and she said, "Never mind the vinder, that can be mended; but let us put up the pie ters as soon as possible."

Broker's shops were searched by Sir Caleb for old moth-eaten portraits, and he bought them a great and rare bargain: amongst which were Sir Cloudsley Shovel, Admiral O'Hara, the Duke of Cumberland of the year 45, and the Duc de Biron taken in execution, Cardinal Mazarine and an obliterated Mareshall, Duc de Nivomois, a mildewed Louis XIV., and a Duke of Richmond without a head. A vamper and var nisher was sent for, who soon turned the Duke of Cumberland, who had formerly hung up on a sign-post, into Sir Caleb's great grand-father in a black wig and a suit of rich brocade. Sir Cloudsley was made an Alderman of. The Admiral's nose was rubbed over, and an exact resemblace to Sir Caleb was effected, so as to pass him off for a grand uncle. The Duke of Biron was introduced as a noble friend of the family, and the Cardinal was transformed into a Common Councilman, and presented to strangers as my Lady's relation. The Mareshall, Duc de Nivomois, was passed over as a foreign connection. Louis XIV. was now dressed in the uniform of the Royal Artillery Company, and shewn as a city cousin; whilst the Duke of Richmond was converted into a Lady, and pointed to as the Lady of Sir Walter de Caxon, Knight, who came over with William the Conqueror; but at last the

vamping and varnishing, and the geneaological touches cost so much, that the great bargains became heavy concerns; and, ere they were finished, Paddy O'Brush, the performer, a handsome County Cork private gentleman, brushed off with Miss Mariar, and extorted five thousand pounds from Sir Caleb to restore her, with the addition of him self, Larry O'Brush, and the pictures. A cottage was now to be taken for my son-in-law.

The want of occupation soon brought on a variety of complaints upon Sir Caleb Caxon, as he was neither an agriculturist or sportsman; and he got so corpulent that the vis a vis could no longer admit of his being thrust in opposite his dear spouse. He bought a low pony, which threw him upon a dunghill. Young Caleb got deeply in debt, and resolved upon travelling: his creditors were paid, and he started for the Continent: arrived at

Venice, and falling out of a gondola when half seas over was drowned. Sir Caleb had no shop to amuse him: the game was up at his billiardtable: his books only set him a sleep, for he could not read any thing with attention, save only a waste book or a newspaper. Lady Caxon proved unfaithful for want of something better to do, and the Knight died of a broken heart

"Qui fit Mæcenus ut nemo quam sibi sortem?

Seu ratio dederit, seu sors objecerit, illa

Contentus vivat."

Let the reader make out the rest. Let the moralist give what lesson he please, and the philosopher discant on the source of that vanity and vexation of spirit to which worthy Caxon was a victim. I, for my part, shall merely advise the tradesman to beware of ambition;-the end of which must be, misery and disgrace.

WITH these words Counsellor Lambert concluded a very afflicting letter to President von Dornfeld, who was formerly his bosom friend, but who now persecuted him as a foe, They had been play fellows at school, and friends at college. It seemed that they could not exist apart from each other. Dornfeld's sterner and more selfish character separated them for a single hour only; Lambert's amiable temper and forgiving disposition immediately restored the brotherly compact. Friendship accompanied them from the university into busy life, and in this path, also, continued their faithful attendant for ten years. Dornfeld, though far his

inferior in merit, quickly raised himself above his friend by the lever of riches. Thousands saw the injustice of this; Lambert, however, rejoiced at the good fortune of his friend, whom he loved better than himself.

They had already attained the age of five and thirty, when love threw the apple of discord between them. In the selfsame hour they both saw the beautiful and sprightly Amelia; and left, with captive hearts, the house where they had become acquainted with her. Sleep fled them both alike the succeeding night, and left them plenty of leisure for the resolution to pay