ed stupidity, are
still reasoning beings--what they once were, it is hard to say.

But I take the man who, for some infraction of the law, is suddenly
carried away from his home and friends--the man of mind, of reading,
and reflection. Imagine him, day after day, beholding the everlasting
saddle of mutton--the eternal three chickens, with the tongue in the
midst of them; the same travesty of French cookery that pervades the
side-dishes--the hot sherry, the sour Moselle: think of him, eating
out his days through these, unchanged, unchangeable--with the same
_cortege_ of lawyers and lawyers' wives--doctors, male and
female--surgeons, subalterns, and, mayhap, attorneys: think of the old
jokes he has been hearing from childhood still ringing in his ears,
accompanied by the same laugh which he has tracked from its burst in
boyhood to its last cackle in dotage: behold him, as he sits amid the
same young ladies, in pink and blue, and the same elderly ones, in
scarlet and purple; see him, as he watches every sign and pass-word
that have marked these dinners for the long term of his sentence, and
say if his punishment be not indeed severe.

Then think how edifying the very example of his suffering, as, with
pale cheek and lustreless eye--silent, sad, and lonely--he sits there!
How powerfully such a warning must speak to others, who, from accident
or misfortune, may be momentarily thrown in his society.

The suggestion, I own, will demand a much more ample detail, and
considerable modification. Among other precautions, for instance, more
than one convict should not be admitted to any table, lest they might
fraternize together, and become independent of the company in mutual
intercourse, &c.

These may all, however, be carefully considered hereafter: the
principle is the only thing I would insist on for the present, and now
leave the matter in the hands of our rulers.

A NUT FOR THE OLD.

Of all the virtues which grace and adorn the inhabitants of these
islands, I know of none which can in anywise be compared with the deep
and profound veneration we show to old age. Not content with paying it
that deference and respect so essentially its due, we go even further,
and by a courteous adulation would impose upon it the notion, that
years have not detracted from the gifts which were so conspicuous in
youth, and that the winter of life is as full of promise and
performance, as the most budding hours of spring-time.

Wal