amounting to no more than this-that, being weary of one plaything, he has taken up another.-COWPER.

GENIUS.-I never knew a poet, except myself, who was punctual in anything, or to be depended on for the due discharge of any duty, except what he thought he owed to the Muses. The moment a man takes it into his foolish head that he has what the world calls genius, he gives himself a discharge from the servile drudgery of all friendly offices, and becomes good for nothing, except in the pursuit of his favourite employment.COWPER.

NASEBY FIELD.-The old hamlet of Naseby stands yet on its old hill-top, very much as it did in Saxon days, on the northwestern border of Northamptonshire, some seven or eight miles from Market-Harborough in Leicestershire, nearly on a line, and nearly midway, between that town and Daventry. A peaceable old hamlet, of perhaps five hundred souls; clay cottages for labourers, but neatly thatched and swept; smith's shop, saddler's shop, beer shop, all in order; forming a kind of square, which leads off, north and south, into two long streets: the old church, with its graves, stands in the centre, the truncated spire finishing itself with a strange old ball, held up by rods; a "hollow copper ball, which came from Boulogne in Henry the Eighth's time,"which has, like Hudibras' breeches, "been at the siege of Bullen.* The ground is upland, moorland, though now growing corn; was not enclosed till the last generation, and is still somewhat bare of wood. It stands nearly in the heart of England. Gentle dullness, taking a turn at etymology, sometimes derives it from Navel; "Navesby, quasi Navelsby, from being," &c. Avon Well, the distinct source of Shakspere's Avon, is on the western slope of the high grounds; Nen and Welland, streams leading towards Cromwell's Fen-Country, begin to gather themselves from boggy places on the eastern side. The grounds, as we say, lie high; and are still, in their new subdivisions, known by the name of "Hills," "Rutput Hill," "Mill Hill," "Dust Hill," and the like, precisely as in Rushworth's time; but they are not properly hills at all; they are broad, blunt, clayey masses, swell

ing towards and from each other, like indolent waves of a sea, sometimes of miles in extent.

It was on this high moor-ground, in the centre of England that King Charles, on the 14th of June 1645 fought his last battle; dashed fiercely against the New-Model army, which he had despised till then, and saw himself shivered utterly to ruin thereby. "Prince Rupert, on the king's right wing, charged up the hill, and carried all before him ;" but Lieutenant-General Cromwell charged down-hill on the other wing, likewise carrying all before him, and did not gallop off the field to plunder, he. Cromwell, ordered thither by the Parliament, had arrived from the association two days before, "amid shouts from the whole army:" he had the ordering of the horse this morning. Prince Rupert, on returning from his plunder, finds the king's infantry a ruin, prepares to charge again with the rallied cavalry; but the cavalry too, when it came to the point, "broke all asunder,”— never to re-assemble more. The chase went through Harborough, where the king had already been that morning, when in an evil hour he turned back to revenge some "C surprise of an outpost at Naseby the night before," and gave the Roundheads battle....

The parliamentary army stood ranged on the height still partly called "Mill Hill," as in Rushworth's time, a mile and a half from Naseby; the king's army on a parallel "Hill," its back to Harborough, with the wide table of upland now named Broad Moor between them, where indeed the main brunt of the action still clearly enough shows itself to have been. There are hollow spots, of a rank vegetation, scattered over that Broad Moor, which are understood to have once been burial mounds, some of which have been (with more or less of sacrilege) verified as such. A friend of mine has in his cabinet two ancient grinderteeth, dug lately from that ground, and waits for an opportunity to bury them there. Sound effectual grinders, one of them very large, which ate their breakfast on the 14th of June two hundred years ago; and, except to be clenched once in grim battle, had never work to do more in this world!-THOMAS CARLYLE.

THE RABBLE, AND THE PEOPLE.-In the summer of 1754, Henry Fielding, the great author of "Tom Jones," left England, never to return, having been ordered by physicians to Lisbon for recovery of his broken health. He has written a most graphic journal of this voyage, full of striking pictures of our social condition ninety years ago. We select the account of his embarkation at Rotherhithe :

"To go on board the ship it was necessary first to go into a boat, -a matter of no small difficulty, as I had no use of my limbs, and was to be carried by men who, though sufficiently strong for their burden, were, like Archimedes, puzzled to find a steady footing. Of this, as few of my readers have not gone into wherries on the Thames, they will easily be able to form to themselves an idea However, by the assistance of my friend Mr Welsh, whom I never think or speak of but with love and esteem, I conquered this difficulty, as I did afterwards that of ascending the ship, into which I was hoisted with more ease by a chair lifted with pulleys. I was soon seated in a great chair in the cabin, to refresh myself after a fatigue which had been more intolerable, in a quarter of a mile's passage from my coach to the ship, than I had before undergone in a land-journey of twelve miles, which I had travelled with the utmost expedition.

"This latter fatigue was, perhaps, somewhat heightened by an indignation which I could not prevent arising in my mind. I think, upon my entrance into the boat, I presented a spectacle of the highest horror. The total loss of limbs was apparent to all who saw me, and my face contained marks of a diseased state, if not of death itself. In this condition I ran the guantlope (so I think I may justly call it) through rows of sailors and watermen, few of whom failed of paying their compliments to me by all manner of insults and jests on my misery. No man who knew me will think I conceived any personal resentment at this behaviour; but it was a lively picture of that cruelty and inhumanity in the nature of men which I have often contemplated with concern, and which leads the mind into a train of very uncomfortable and melancholy thoughts. It may be said that this barbarous custom is peculiar

to the English, and of them only to the lowest degree; that it is an excrescence of an uncontrolled licentiousness mistaken for liberty, and never shows itself in men who are polished and refined in such a manner as human nature requires to produce that perfection of which it is susceptible; and to purge away that malevolence of disposition, of which, at our birth, we partake in common with the savage creation."

Luxury of the Roman Nobles.

AMMIANUS MARCELLINUS.

[AMMIANUS MARCELLINUS lived in the fourth century, and wrote a history of the emperors, from the accession of Nerva to the death of Valens, A. D. 378. The earlier part of the history is lost. Gibbon, in the 31st chapter of his "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," has translated with some freedom the passage which we now extract. He says, "Ammianus Marcellinus, who prudently chose the capital of the empire as the residence best adapted to the historian of his own times, has mixed with the narrative of public events a lively representation of the scenes with which he was familiarly conversant."]

The greatness of Rome was founded on the rare and almost incredible alliance of virtue and of fortune. The long period of her infancy was employed in a laborious struggle against the tribes of Italy, the neighbours and enemies of the rising city. In the strength and ardour of youth she sustained the storms of war, carried her victorious arms beyond the seas and mountains, and brought home triumphant laurels from every country of the globe. At length, verging towards old age, and sometimes conquering by the terror only of her name, she sought the blessings of ease and tranquillity. The venerable city, which had trampled on the necks of the fiercest nations, and established a system of laws, the perpetual guardians of justice and freedom, was content, like a wise and wealthy parent, to devolve on the Cæsars, her favourite sons, the care of governing her ample patrimony. A secure and pro

senate.

found peace, such as had been once enjoyed in the reign of Numa, succeeded to the tumults of a republic; while Rome was still adored as the queen of the earth; and the subject nations still reverenced the name of the people and the majesty of the But this native splendour, (continues Ammianus,) is degraded and sullied by the conduct of some nobles, who, unmindful of their own dignity and of that of their country, assume an unbounded licence of vice and folly. They contend with each other in the empty vanity of titles and surnames; and curiously select or invent the most lofty and sonorous appellations, Reburrus or Fabunius, Pagonius or Tarrasius, which may impress the ears of the vulgar with astonishment and respect. From a vain ambition of perpetuating their memory, they affect to multiply their likeness in statues of bronze and marble; nor are they satisfied unless those statues are covered with plates of gold; an honourable distinction first granted to Acilius the consul, after he had subdued, by his arms and counsels, the power of King Antiochus. The ostentation of displaying, of magnifying perhaps, the rent-roll of the estates which they possess in all the provinces, from the rising to the setting sun, provokes the just resentment of every man, who recollects, that their poor and invincible ancestors were not distinguished from the meanest of the soldiers, by the delicacy of their food or the splendour of their apparel. But the modern nobles measure their rank and consequence according to the lofti. ness of their chariots and the weighty magnificence of their dress. Their long robes of silk and purple float in the wind; and as they are agitated, by art or accident, they occasionally discover the under garments, the rich tunics, embroidered with the figures of various animals. Followed by a train of fifty servants, and tearing up the pavement, they move along the streets with the same impetuous speed as if they travelled with post-horses; and the example of the senators is boldly imitated by the matrons and ladies, whose covered carriages are continually driving round the immense space of the city and suburbs. Whenever these persons of high distinction condescend to visit the public baths, they assume, on their entrance, a tone of loud and insolent command, and appro