'thought-flasher' becomes as generally
available here as it is in America. It is now in real earnest going to
Ireland. A ship has been despatched to fetch Cleopatra's so-called
'needle:' the Panopticon at length has found a local habitation, and
is assuming a tangible form in the shape of bricks and mortar: ocean
steamers are more than ever talked about; and every month a new one,
better than all before, is launched: gold, too, is a favourite topic;
and Australian and Californian mining-shares are plentiful in the
market; so also are those of Irish Waste-Land Improvement Companies,
who, in addition to the reclamation, propose to grow beet-root, flax,
and chicory. At last we have got one or two penny news-rooms--not so
good, however, as yours in Edinburgh; and a project is mooted to
establish reading and waiting rooms combined, in different parts of
the capital. There is talk, too, of central railway termini, of new
bridges, new streets, and of converting Kennington Common into a
park--how soon to be realised remains to be seen.

THE TURN OF LIFE.

From forty to sixty, a man who has properly regulated himself, may be
considered as in the prime of life. His matured strength of
constitution renders him almost impervious to the attacks of disease,
and experience has given his judgment the soundness of almost
infallibility. His mind is resolute, firm, and equal; all his
functions are in the highest order; he assumes the mastery over
business; builds up a competence on the foundation he has formed in
early manhood, and passes through a period of life attended by many
gratifications. Having gone a year or two past sixty, he arrives at a
critical period in the road of existence; the river of death flows
before him, and he remains at a stand-still. But athwart this river
is a viaduct, called 'The turn of Life,' which, if crossed in safety,
leads to the valley, 'Old Age.' The bridge is constructed of fragile
materials, and it depends upon how it is trodden whether it bend or
break. Gout, apoplexy, and other bad characters are also in the
vicinity to waylay the traveller, and thrust him from the pass; but
let him gird up his loins, and provide himself with a fitting staff,
and he may trudge on in safety with perfect composure. To quit a
metaphor, the 'Turn of Life' is a turn either into a prolonged walk or
into the grave. The system and power having reached their utmost
expansion, now begin either to close like flowers a