There are fewer unpleasant objects or circumstances at Florence than in any city I have been in, the towns in England not excepted. Naples is just the reverse, but very fascinating at first. I prefer Rome to both, on account of its interest. If I might have my choice of one statue, it should be the Venus, whose attraction ever heightens by contemplation. Of all the paintings I have seen, I should prefer to possess Raphael's Madonna della Seggiola in the Grand Duke's palace. It is a representation of the Virgin; and the painter has made her of that merit, which is above all modes and fashions, and which would equally become a palace or a cottage. Existence here, under the most favourable circumstances, is certainly much superior to existence with us. The climate throws a charm round everything, which is quite indescribable. I can only give you some idea of the brilliancy of the atmosphere, by saying that it is more different from ours than the light from wax is from that from tallow. The sensations too approach much nearer to something exquisite; or as Moore expresses it,—

"And simply to feel that we breathe, that we live,

Is worth the best joys life elsewhere can give."

Virgil attributes the same superiority of atmosphere to Elysium, that Italy seems to me to have over England; and a charm, indeed, it is, that almost compensates for the many advantages, which, in other respects, we enjoy.

No. XIII.-WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 12, 1835.

ARISTOLOGY, OR THE ART OF DINING. ACCORDING to the lexicons, the Greek for dinner is Ariston, and therefore, for the convenience of the terms, and without entering into any inquiry, critical or antiquarian, I call the art of dining Aristology, and those who study it, Aristologists. The maxim, that practice makes perfect, does not apply to our daily habits; for, so far as they are concerned, we are ordinarily content with the standard of mediocrity, or something rather below. Where study is not absolutely necessary, it is by most people altogether dispensed with; but it is only by an union of study and practice, that we can attain anything like perfection. Anybody can dine, but very few know how to dine, so as to ensure the greatest quantity of health and enjoyment-indeed many people contrive to destroy their health; and as to enjoyment, I shudder when I think how often I have been doomed to only a solemn mockery of it; how often I have sat in durance stately,

to go through the ceremony of dinner, the essence of which is to be without ceremony, and how often in this land of liberty I have felt myself a slave!

There are three kinds of dinners-solitary dinners, every-day social dinners, and set dinners; all three involving the consideration of cheer, and the last two of society also. Solitary dinners, I think, ought to be avoided as much as possible, because solitude tends to produce thought, and thought tends to the suspension of the digestive powers. When, however, dining alone is necessary, the mind should be disposed to cheerfulness by a previous interval of relaxation from whatever has seriously occupied the attention, and by directing it to some agreeable object. As contentment ought to be an accompaniment to every meal, punctuality is essential, and the diner and the dinner should be ready at the same time. A chief maxim in dining with comfort is, to have what you want when you want it. It is ruinous to have to wait for first one thing and then another, and to have the little additions brought, when what they belong to is half or entirely finished. To avoid this a little foresight is good, and, by way of instance, it is sound practical philosophy to have mustard upon the table before the arrival of toasted cheese. This very

omission has caused as many small vexations in the world, as would by this time make a mountain of misery. Indeed, I recommend an habitual consideration of what adjuncts will be required to the main matters; and I think an attention to this, on the part of females, might often be preventive of sour looks and cross words, and their anti-conjugal consequences. There are not only the usual adjuncts, but to those who have anything of a genius for dinners, little additions will sometimes suggest themselves, which give a sort of poetry to a repast, and please the palate to the promotion of health. As our senses were made for our enjoyment, and as the vast variety of good things in the world were designed for the same end, it seems a sort of impiety not to put them to their best uses, provided it does not cause us to neglect higher considerations. The different products of the different seasons, and of the different parts of the earth, afford endless proofs of bounty, which it is as unreasonable to reject, as it is to abuse. It has happened, that those who have made the gratification of the appetite a study, have generally done so to excess, and to the exclusion of nobler pursuits; whilst, on the other hand, such study has been held to be incompatible with moral refinement and elevation. But there is a happy mean, and as upon the due regulation of the appetite assuredly depends our physical well-being, and upon that, in a great measure, our mental energies, it seems to me that the subject is worthy of

attention, for reasons of more importance than is ordinarily supposed.

PREFERMENT TO PLACE.

I have often wondered, both in reading history and in observing my own times, that there are so few examples of the worthy employment of patronage. It might be supposed the glory and the influence that would result from it to men in high place, would have made that the rule, which unfortunately for mankind is but the exception. "He that seeketh to be eminent amongst able men," says Lord Bacon, "hath a great task; but that is ever good for the public. But he that plots to be the only figure amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age." Of all the talents that could be possessed by men in power, surely that would be the noblest and most useful, which would enable them to avail themselves of the talents of others. It is marvellous that the feeling of responsibility, that the consciousness of the destiny of millions being in their hands, that the love of the approbation of the wise and good, do not outweigh in the minds of kings and ministers all lesser considerations. It is natural to think that the very circumstance of being placed on what Bacon calls “the vantage ground to do good," would of itself inspire lofty ideas and comprehensive views; as grandeur of position in the physical world creates a corresponding elevation of mind, and a total forgetfulness of self. The influence of one man, however high his station, can but be trifling except through the medium of those below him, and his influence will be great and beneficial in proportion to the worthiness of the channels through which it flows. Nothing would so effectually excite honourable ambition as the conviction that the road to preferment lay open to merit alone, and that every place would be bestowed, without other consideration, upon the person most fitted to fill it.

The adoption of such a system would be productive of the double advantage of a higher tone and more efficient service, and would put an end to that race of aspirants who use those arts to prevail which ought to ensure their defeat. Wise institutions and good laws are comparatively of little avail, without able and honourable men in the different degrees of office, and it is only by a regularly just disposal of preferment that the proper standard of purity and zeal will ever be established in the administration of the various branches of the public service. Individual instances of the preferment of the most worthy produce only partial and temporary benefit, and the tone of the class, in the long-run, ordinarily prevails. It is by a species of rivalry in well-doing

that zeal is kept alive, and standing alone becomes wearisome and discouraging. All patronage is a trust; and bestowing preferment unworthily is a violation of a trust, and the greater the unworthiness the greater the violation. It is not enough to prefer those who are fit; the choice should fall upon the most fit. It is not enough to choose from those who apply; the most meritorious should be sought out, and the preferment offered to them, not as matter of favour and obligation, but as something required to be accepted from a sense of public duty. It is true, these are not the doctrines generally received; if they were, patronage would not so openly be made an instrument for creating undue influence, or upholding party; nor would the public service be so often sacrificed for the sake of making provision for relations, friends, and dependents; a system which, strange to say, has many advocates amongst those who think rightly on other points, and who have no immediate interest in perverting the truth. opinion, there is nothing more deserving of reprobation in public men than abuse of patronage; because I think there is nothing more detrimental to the public welfare. It not only discourages existing merit, and prevents a further increase, but it encourages importunity, intrigue, servility, profligacy of principle, and many other base qualities, which spread their pestiferous influence over society. It enables men in power to maintain themselves by other supports than that of public opinion, and surrounds them with a phalanx of hangers-on, who effectually deter the meritorious from even thinking of making their approach. Political reforms have done something, and may do more, towards diminishing the abuse of patronage; but what is chiefly wanted, is a higher moral tone, to scout every appointment that is not made upon the only sound principle of selecting the best fitted.

In my

POVERTY AND PAUPERISM.

I give the following extract from my pamphlet on Pauperism, on account of the distinction drawn between Poverty and Pauperism, and for the sake of correcting certain erroneous notions connected with the two :

"In order to exhibit pauperism in its strongest colours, suppose an extensive and fertile parish, with an unusual number of wealthy residents, with large woods, much game, a facility of smuggling, two or three commons, several almshouses, endowments for distributing bread and clothes, and much private charity; and suppose the rich to take no further concern in parochial affairs, than alternately to grumble at the amount of a rate, or the harshness of an overseer, as application is made to them for their

money, or for their protection. Under such circumstances the spirit of pauperism will be at its height; and yet people who should know better will be found to hold such language as this: 'I don't know how it is the rates in this parish are so high; we are particularly well off for provision for the poor; there are almshouses, and regular distributions of food and clothes; they have all common rights, at least they all take them; they pick up fuel for nothing-I am sure they are never out of my woods; they smuggle almost everything they want; and then private charity is really quite unbounded; and yet I can't say I see much gratitude in return; the damage done to property is immense, and the expense and vexation about game completely destroy all the pleasure of it. I often wish I had not a bird or a hare on my estate. Really it is in vain to do anything for the poor; indeed, I think the more pains one takes, the worse they are. Lord gave them an ox to roast last King's birth-day, and they absolutely pulled down his park paling to make the fire.'* For poverty put pauperism, and for charity indiscretion, and all will be explained. Giving to pauperism is only spreading the compost on the weeds to make them ranker.'

"It is of the utmost importance accurately to distinguish between poverty and pauperism; for by confounding them, poverty is dishonoured and pauperism countenanced. Supply poverty with means and it vanishes, but pauperism is the more confirmed. Poverty is a sound vessel empty, but pauperism is not only empty but cracked. Poverty is a natural appetite, merely wanting food-pauperism a ravenous atrophy, which no food can satisfy. Poverty strives to cure itself-pauperism to contaminate others. Poverty often stimulates to exertionpauperism always paralyzes. Poverty is sincere-pauperism is an arch-hypocrite. Poverty has naturally a proud spiritpauperism a base one, now servile, now insolent. Poverty is silent and retiring-pauperism clamorous and imposing; the one grateful, the other the reverse. There is much that is alluring in poverty, but pauperism is altogether hateful. It is delightful to succour the one, and irksome to be taxed for the other. Poverty has the blessing of Heaven as well as those who relieve it-pauperism, on the contrary, has nothing in common with the Christian virtues. St. Paul has described the spirit of pauperism, and given his decided opinion upon it. 'Neither did we eat any man's bread for naught; but wrought with labour and travail night and day, that we might not be chargeable to any of you, to make ourselves an example unto you to follow us. For even when we were with you, this we commanded-that if any would not

*This actually happened a few years since.