ured me of his conviction that the
slight acquaintance previously existing between us would now be ripened
into intimacy, and informed me of his intention to lodge at the same
hotel with me. He had come to Philadelphia to see about a plate for his
sixteenth number, which was to surpass all its predecessors, and of
which he would let me have an early copy, that I might _notice_ it as it
deserved.

* * * * *

"Never," said Southey, writing to his friend Bedford, "shall child of
mine enter a school or a university. Perhaps I may not be able so well
to instruct him in logic or languages, but I can at least preserve him
from vice."

From the Kings's College Magazine.

BIOGRAPHIES, LIVES, MEMOIRS, AND RECOLLECTIONS.

Innumerable biographies, innumerable traces of human life that is now
life no longer, may be met with in every walk. One lovely day, now some
time ago, we had been taking a walk in a part of England of which we had
little knowledge, and we came up to the gate of what appeared to be a
large hospital. It was covered with trees, and the beauty of summer was
luxuriantly displayed. The grayheaded porter at the gate, a very
communicative and happy old man, aged eighty-eight years, soon gave us a
history of the institution. This hospital had been built by a man who
was much renowned. He had been once a poor shopboy, but he wandered to
London, was very industrious, and at length became one of the greatest
merchants of the imperial city. He realized the visions of Whittington;
for he was twice Lord Mayor, was exceedingly wealthy, was honored with
the friendship of King William the Third, and was universally respected.
Age coming on, he retired to his native place, built and endowed this
hospital, became famous for his deeds of kindness and charity, always
kept with reverence the day on which the Prince of Orange landed on
English ground, and, full of years and honors, sunk into his long
repose. The charitable institution was situated amid the most beautiful
scenery. No place could be more fitting for the old men who sat basking
in the sun to spend the quiet evening of their lives. This was the
biography of the great city merchant. It was not written in many
volumes; his good deeds were not ostentatiously displayed, and he now
sleeps peacefully and well.

But this was not all. On returning through a magnificent park, as the
sun was setting, the haymakers returning from their la