I DO NOT THINK, my dear sir, that any one will call you "illiberal," yet must I break a lance with you on the subject of some remarks of yours, at page 190. You there say, that the lamentable existing "deformities in the minds of females are in a great measure attributable to the unrestricted perusal of Novels and Tales of Fiction." I really think this is an incorrect judgment of yours; and it requires some explanation.

Had your remark been confined to the class of romances and similar masses of impossible absurdities to be found in the CHEAP PUBLICATIONS of the present day, your condemnation of them would have been more deserved. In my opinion, you should blame not the novels, but the style of education, which not merely permits but encourages their perusal. We should then arrive much nearer to a radical truth..

The reading of the low class of books to which I allude, is not the cause of the deformities of mind which you and all who love the sex so much condemn. It is merely one of the effects of the imperfect education of the female mind, so paramount in the present day. A woman's mind would, if properly cultivated, soon discard every species of common-place trash- sending it to the tomb of all the Capulets.

I am not a novel reader, or a novel writer; but I freely admit having oftentimes derived not only pleasure and amusement, but much valuable information and instruction from the perusal of some works of fiction. They are written by persons of no inconsiderable pretension to education and talent; and amongst them, that great moral philanthropist, Crabb, may be numbered. From such writers, nothing objectionable can well emanate; and their works cannot have the demoralizing effects you attribute to them.

On the contrary, I feel sure that (as an auxiliary to education,) lessons of filial tenderness, and guides to the development of the human mind into channels that could not fail to lead to love and respect-are to be often found firmly portrayed in the majority of good novels; when any such lessons would be sought in vain elsewhere. You, natural philanthropist as you are,

would say "Nature is the best teacher;" but be reasonable, my dear sir. Tell me what sort of figure a natural (strictly natural) young lady would cut in the world, in the present day. No, no; if we cannot have them what we wish, it appears to me to be wiser to train them into that path which is best calculated to carry them through the world with credit to themselves and advantage to those about them.

To do this satisfactorily, let the mind of the fair sex—and not their figure, be made the first object of cultivation. I would try to make them believe that

"Comforts, yea! joys ineffable, they find

Who seek the prouder pleasures of the mind." I would see them taught to "think" then, rely on it, their own judgment would very soon prevent them from reading any work owing its origin to a mind less cultivated or less elevated than their own. They could not enjoy such a work; nor need you fear turning them loose into any circulating library. They would not be long in culling the flowers, and leaving the weeds.

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How this much-to-be-desired improvement in education is to be attained, is, I admit, a matter of no ordinary difficulty; for one evil has grown upon another until it has become almost insurmountable. The fact is, plishments" are so much sought after, that even in the education of those intended to become "teachers," little else is thought of. Do we ever hear of a mother in want of a governess who troubles herself to ask any thing of her qualifications-beyond music, French, and, perhaps, drawing? All else is a matter of indifference; if not deemed absolutely needless. Thus it may not be unfairly assumed, that by far too many of those who usurp the title of governess in the present day know little or nothing of the branches of education which would assist their pupils in the formation of their minds,-storing them with those rich fruits which would tend to render them cultivated beings, instead of, as now, mere dolls.

The desire on the part of the middle classes for " private education" (so called), is one of England's besetting sins. We must be "apeing our betters." The value of emulation is lost sight of in the desire to be able to repeat, after my Lady Noodle, "we have a private governess." But where, may I ask, is the value of emulation to be found, better than at a seminary? Take any twenty of the men who have become known in this country for talent,-no consequence from what class you select them, whether in politics, medicine, law, or literature. Now, you will not find that any one of them owed the development and cultivation of his talent to a private tutor; but simply to that emulation which, whether at asc hool or in a college, is unavoidable.

Who can doubt that the mind of a female is open to the same influences, and that girls at school are just as susceptible of early impressions as boys? Why, then, should a different system be observed? and why, in a family, should the boys be sent to school to become useful members of society, and the girls kept at home to be turned into pretty ornamental toys?

I am aware that in thus discouraging the "manufacture" of governesses, some other opening ought to be found for female occupation. One great-perhaps the greatest impediment to this, is the employment of men in situations which ought to be exclusively filled by women. This is in some measure also the fault of the description of education I have been condemning; for it is not easy to find women sufficiently grounded in rudimental education to qualify them for such situations. If, however, an opening were afforded them for the exercise of such qualifications, their natural quickness would soon prevent this from being an excuse. But whilst so many thousands of young men are allowed to usurp situations which I have always considered degrading to manhood (and which ought to be exclusively filled by females), so long will the present imperfect education of females continue.

In all our light businesses, young women are far better adapted to officiate behind the counter than men. It is a most disgusting anomaly to see (so called) "men" measuring yards of tape, and descanting upon the fall of a lady's dress!-over-grown fellows (perhaps six feet high), who look as though nothing but their dainty fingers prevented them from lifting a plough; but who lend themselves to the inculcation of lectures upon the "fascination of a Moire Antique, and the splendid effect of a French brocade."Ugh!! C. GOODWYN.

TIME AND LOVE.

AN artist painted Time and Love;
Time with two pinions spread above,
And Love without a feather;
Sir Harry patronised the plan,
And soon Sir Hall and Lady Ann
In wedlock came together.
Copies of each the dame bespoke :
The Artist, ere he drew a stroke,

Reversed his old opinions;
And straightway to the fair one brings
Time in his turn devoid of wings,

And Cupid with two pinions. "What blunder's this?" the lady cries; "No blunder, Madam," he replies,

"I hope I'm not so stupidEach has his pinions in his day, Time, before marriage, flies away; And-after marriage, Cupid."

IT IS CURIOUS TO OBSERVE, how Old Wives' Fables and Sayings prevail throughout succeeding generations. They become household words; and are handed down from family to family as truths which must not be argued against or disputed.

"Blind as a Mole," is one of these vulgar errors of speech. We have exposed it at much length, in one of our earlier numbers; and now append a very interesting article, bearing on the same question, which appears in one of the better class of cheap periodicals.* We may observe, en passant, that we wish these said cheap periodicals were (all of them) more wholesome in their tendency,-more impressed with the importance of rightly directing the minds of our rising youth-more free from religious intolerance and sectarian taint.

We understand that the aggregate number of "cheap" weekly periodicals sold, may be counted by millions. What a fearful power then rests in the hands of their respective proprietors!-Editors, of course, there are none. We very frequently glance at some of them; and amongst much that is good, we find, invariably, that the EVIL largely preponderates,—not overtly but covertly. The poisoned barb lurks beneath the tempting bait. Intolerance, infidelity, indelicacy, and grossness, are veiled by what is called "innocent amusement."'

The articles consist, for the most part, of love-tales, romances, Newgate Calendar details of crime, seduction, murder, &c., &c. The miscellanies are made up of good and bad; the latter are usually in the proportion of at least two to one. Then, the "Notices to Correspondents,"--what filthy, impure, and immodest "answers are there given about courtship, &c., to maids, wives, and widows! This, every week, in one of the penny periodicals! Thus are our domestic servants corrupted, our ladies'-maids irretrievably ruined in principle, and other members of our household demoralised,--in thought, if not in action. By the way, the Morning Post has been lately very eloquent on this subject.

Many a father, and many a mother, may be heard in Manchester, Liverpool, and other large towns, cursing with a loud voice the proprietors of these cheap penny periodicals. They have been the means of breaking thousands of hearts, and of causing the transportation of children innumerable. Attracted by the wood engravings-a deep lure

*The Leisure Hour.

a tea-plate, and several other articles; and invariably with the same result. So that the next time a man runs his head against a post, we will try to forget the old saying, as blind as a mole." In pursuit of his prey, we had another proof of our friend's eyesight. A few worms were dropped quietly into the box, out of the mole's sight. They speedily crept into the mould; but, in their perambulations again, saw light at intervals, not unfrequently a few inches before Mr. Mole's nose. Woe betide the unhappy wight who did so! He was carefully watched until an opportunity occurred of getting him endwise into the sharptoothed jaws of his destroyer; when he was quietly munched up, just as a child would munch a stick of barley-sugar. This last fact was one of the most interesting which came under our observation. Why, with his strong jaws and lancet teeth, he would not seize a worm by the side (as I have seen a water-newt do scores of times), and make his own of it, instead of allowing one after another to scamper off from between his very jaws, I cannot understand; but that such is the case, I am well-assured. Our verdict on the eyes of the mole amounts to this,-that the mole does see, but that his range of vision is very limited.

Having thus declared that our friend has the power of sight, it would be still more satisfactory to find, if possible, his eyes. For this purpose a party of young naturalists sat on his body; while one, with all the sage demonstrativeness of a Cuvier, proceeded with the work of dissection. As our observations on dissection of the head entirely agree with those of H. K. Creed, Esq., of Christ's College, Cambridge, and published by him in the "Naturalist," February, 1852, it will, suffice to give his account. "Having lately," he says, been carefully examining the eyes of the common mole, I find that the little black tubercules

which are seen, on turning aside the hair, on each side of the head, have each an optic nerve communicating with the brain." This is sufficient proof that the reviled little animal in question enjoys the blessings of sight; for surely an Allwise Creator would never form an animal with all the apparatus for vision, and yet deny it the use of it.

Passing now from the eyes to the general structure of the mole, the first thing that strikes us on removing his coat is the extraordinary development of the muscles on the forepart of his body, in comparison with the hinder quarter. The arms, or fore-legs, are short, stiff-looking appendages, and covered with what would seem to be a superabundance of flesh. This, however, is not the case; large as the quantity is, it is firm, useful flesh, giving healthy strength to every action of the body. The chest also is protected by a thick and broad expansion of muscles. But, lacka-day for the hind legs, they are as poor as a rat's. Certain it is, that were the creature divided about the middle into two pieces, it would be difficult to get over the impression that the one part belonged to a larder resident, and the other to a poor halfstarved outcast. The aim in this unequal distribution of flesh is very evident. From the nature of the mole's habits, it requites prodigious strength in its fore-quarters, that it may overcome the many obstacles to its subterranean explorations.

Nor is the difference in the skeleton less marked. The bones of the hind leg exhibit no material difference from the corresponding bones in higher animals, being elongated and cylindrical in shape, as in the legs of a hare or rabbit. In the forelegs, however, we have a structure which almost defies description. Let us begin with the scapula, or shoulder-blade, which, in man and most other mammals, assumes a somewhat triangular form; having two flat faces, one of which is ornamented with an upright ridge. This bone is familiar to every one who has picked the fiddle-bone of a rabbit. In the mole, the scapula loses its expanded form; and appears as a sprismatic club, with three sharp edges, and furrows between them. Collar-bones attach the shoulder-joint to the breast-bone, and are present only in a few of the lower animals,-as monkeys, kangaroos, bats, and two or three others. In shape, it may be said generally to resemble Hogarth's line of beauty; being a long and beautifully curved bone. Next let us look at the humerus. Instead of a fine long cylindrical bone, a shortened, flattened, and sinuated piece of osseous matter is presented; with curves and points, and flats, and depressions, sufficient to puzzle a mathematician. The aim of this wonderful formation of bone is the same as that of the large development of muscle; namely, to give sufficient strength to enable the burrowing creature to overcome almost any difficulties, and resist impending dangers, which would inevitably destroy an animal of another organisation.

It is impossible, in contemplating the anatomy of such a creature, not to feel that it is as perfect in its kind as the gigantic elephant, or the wellproportioned horse; and that it is as forcibly displays the power, wisdom, and goodness of the great and benevolent Maker of us all.

Subjects on natural history, treated thus popularly, and written in so amiable a spirit, cannot but excite attention. How refreshing it would be to meet with many more such specimens; but alas! they are rare indeed!

CHILDHOOD.

OUR youth! our childhood! that spring of springs! 'Tis surely one of the blessedest things

That nature ever invented! When the rich are wealthy beyond their wealth, And the poor are rich in spirits and health, And all with their lots contented! There's little Phelim, he sings like a thrush, In the selfsame pair of patchwork plush,

With the selfsame empty pockets, That tempted his daddy so often to cut His throat, or jump in the water-buttBut what cares Phelim ? an empty nut

Would sooner bring tears to their sockets.

Give him a collar without a skirt,
That's the Irish linen for shirt,
And a slice of bread, with a taste of dirt,
That's Poverty's Irish butter.
And what does he lack to make him blest?
Some oyster-shells, or a sparrow's nest,
A candle-end and a gutter.

T. HOOD.

THOUGHTS ON SOMNAMBULISM.

WHAT A REMARKABLE THING is somnambulism! How mysterious in its operations; how very singular in its effects! I have been led to notice this subject, from having very recently had an opportunity of making some observations on a case of the kind. The individual to whom I allude, had been under my notice for five or six weeks. He was of the phlegmatic temperament, and about twenty years old. He had been accustomed to the habit of walking in his sleep from childhood; though the habit had increased with his age. One other member of the same family, I may remark, was also subject to it.

Its mode of manifestation was by midnight wanderings, whilst in a state of sleep. The somnambule would go into nearly every room in the house which was accessible; there busying himself in moving about or arranging various articles which were in the way. These peregrinations took place nearly every night; and everything that was "remarkable generally commenced at a certain hour (between twelve and one).

This person would sometimes do the most extraordinary things; things which would appear almost incredible, although wellattested. He would go out of doors, and after crossing two or three fields, and a narrow plank over a bridge, he would return. He also performed various domestic duties, such as usually require some little skill; viz., lighting a fire, unlocking and unbarring a door, wrapping up parcels, &c.

When we remember that these things were done without the assistance of the eyes, and by the sense of touch only,-does it not appear marvellous? The individual referred to was sometimes watched while in this state, and followed; when, if addressed, he would reply to any questions asked.

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were, of course, frequently malàpropos; and appeared to have reference to some imaginary circumstance that had taken place.

Another remarkable peculiarity in this case was, that on the following morning there was a recollection of what had taken place the previous night, although it only left the shadowy impress of a dream! In most cases I have read of, the persons affected were unconscious of it. It is very difficult, I should imagine, to cure their mania; for, when the doors have been secured, certain somnambulists have been known to make their exit from the windows. It is just possible that constant watching of the person, and rousing him on any attempt to quit the apartment, might lessen its effect. Somnambulism has excited many speculations. It is evidently of a different nature

to talking and muttering in one's sleep, which is not very uncommon. Shakspeare says "There are a kind of men so loose of soul, that in their sleep will mutter their affairs." I am not enough of a physiologist to explain the cause; possibly, there is some peculiarity in the conformation of the brain, which induces this species of delirium; there is evidently an unequal effect on the senses; for while part of them are in a state of torpor the rest are unweariedly active. A phrenologist might perhaps ascribe it to an undue excitement of the organ of ideality; or probably the organ of memory may be deficient.

Somnambulism has very likely been the cause of many of the ghost stories which have been propagated in all ages. Let us suppose a case as above; where an individual is in the habit of promenading, dressed only in his robe de chambre. If seen by any person not acquainted with the circumstance, the latter imagines he beholds an apparition. Too terrified to approach, and examine the cause, he becomes convinced of the reality of " spiritual appearances;" and spreads terror amongst his neighbors. Something similar has been introduced by Shakspeare in his tragedy of Macbeth, where Lady Macbeth repeats the circumstances of the murder

committed. It is also the basis of the popular opera La Somnambula, wherein the heroine, Amina is first disgraced but afterwards vindicated by means of a similar denouement. The doctor in Macbeth remarks, "I have known those who have walked in

their sleep, who have died holily in their beds." May this prove true of all who are thus afflicted !—CERURA.

SUMMER-ADIEU!

Good bye to thee, Summer, I bid thee adieu!
For the leaves of the forest are faded and few;
And night is fast creeping on beautiful day.
The breath of Old Winter hath silvered the spray,

Good bye to thee, Summer, in woodland and dell
The flowers have bade thee for ever farewell;
The smile of thy coming their race will restore,
But they, dearest Summer, will meet thee no
more!

Good bye to thee, Summer; our parting doth seem
To me as the close of a beautiful dream,
Which fancy hath wreathed in radiance so bright,
And broken her spell in the darkness of night.
Farewell, oh farewell then, and thou wilt away:
I ask not why hurry, nor bid thee to stay,
Nor vainly repine-chilly Winter must reign-
But hope, dearest Summer, to meet thee again.
Good bye to thee, Summer, I bid thee adieu!
For the leaves of the forest are faded and few;
The breath of Old Winter hath silvered the spray,
And night is fast creeping on beautiful day.