circle of twenty miles around the largest and most opulent city in the
world, we thus discover a large quantity of land, which cultivation
would render highly productive, but which, in its present state of
waste, is of little or no value to the public. And this land, situated
in the very outskirts of the metropolis, continues to be utterly
neglected, if not entirely overlooked, at a moment when the whole
kingdom resounds with the groans of those who argue that the population
of this country has outrun the means of subsisting them. As the
traveller advances in his journey from the metropolis, the waste becomes
more extensive, if not more numerous. The English wastes, which amount
to about five millions of acres, are more valuable than those of
Ireland; and these again are more improvable than, the Scotish
wastes.--_Quarterly Rev._

* * * * *

CHINESE NOVELS.

The character of the Chinese novels is the same with that of the better
parts of _Don Quixote, Gil Blas, Tom Jones_, and _Cecilia_. Their
authors address themselves to the reason rather than the imagination of
their readers. The other Asiatic nations, led away by a passion for the
marvellous, have often disfigured the most respectable traditions, and
converted history itself into romance. The Chinese, on the other hand,
may be said to have given their romances the truth of history.--_N.
American Review._

* * * * *

The Canadian Indian females are described as passionately fond of their
children, as submissive slaves, and at the same time affectionately
attached to their husbands. This they evince by _self-immolation_, after
the manner of eastern wives. Among the few poisonous plants of Canada,
is a shrub, which yields a wholesome fruit, but contains in its roots a
deadly juice, which the widow, who wishes not to survive her husband,
drinks. An eye-witness describes its effects; the woman having resolved
to die, chanted her death song and funeral service; she then drank off
the poisonous juice, was seized with shivering and convulsions, and
expired in a few minutes on the body of her husband.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

TWENTY-EIGHT AND TWENTY-NINE.

"Rien n'est change, mes amis!"[2]
CHARLES DIX.

[2] I have taken these words for my motto, because they _enable_ me
to tell a s