been intimate. Naturally anxious to know more of so celebrated a
personage, I asked many questions. I was told much to interest me, and,
among other little anecdotes, they said that Miss Martineau used to sit
down surrounded by the young ladies, and amuse them with all the
histories of her former loves. She would detail to them "how Jack
sighed and squeezed her hand; how Tom went down on his knees; how Dick
swore and Sam vowed; and how--she was still Miss Martineau." And thus
would she narrate and they listen until the sun went down, and the
firefly danced, while the frogs lifted up their voices in full concert.

And I said to myself, "Who would have supposed that this Solon in
petticoats would ever have dwelt upon her former days of enthusiasm and
hope, or have cherished the reminiscences of love? How true it is that
_human nature is the same everywhere_."

Once more:--

I was conversing with a lady at New York, who informed me that she had
seen a letter from Miss M, written to a friend of hers, after her return
to England, in which Miss M declared that her door was so besieged with
the carriages of the nobility, that it was quite uncomfortable, and that
she hardly knew what to do.

Thinks I to myself, I recollect an old story.

"Oh! Grandmother," cried Tom, running in, out of breath, "there's at
least a thousand cats in our garden."--"No, no, Tom," quickly replied,
the old lady; "not a thousand, Tom."--"Well I'm sure there's five
hundred."--"No, nor five hundred," replied the old lady, not taking her
eyes off her knitting.--"Well, then, grandmother, I'm sure there's
fifty."--"I don't think there _are_ fifty, Tom."--"Well, at all events,
there's _our cat and another_."--"Ah! Tom," replied the old lady, "that
_may_ be."

I believe that the carriage of Lord Brougham is occasionally to be seen
at the door of Miss Martineau.

But when I heard this I was pleased, for I said to myself, "So, then,
this champion of democracy, this scorner of rank and title, is flattered
by the carriages of the nobility crowding at her door;" and, again I
said to myself, "_human nature is the same everywhere_."

But the Reviewer, in his virulence, has not been satisfied with
attacking me; he has thought it necessary to libel the whole profession
to which I have the honour to belong. He has had the folly and
impertinence to make the following remark: "No landsmen can have been on
board of a ship a week, without coming to the con