coran, the difficulty and uncertainty will still remain, if we consider how many metaphors, allegories, and other figures of speech,-how many obscure, ambiguous, intricate, and mysterious passages are to be met with in this infallible book, --and how different are the opinions, expositions, and interpretations, of the most subtle doctors and learned commen. tators on every one of them. The only sure way, then," add they, "to come to the certain knowledge of the truth, is to consult God himself, wait His inspirations, live just and honest lives, be kind and beneficent to all our fellow-creatures, and pity such as differ from us in their opinions about the authority, integrity, and meaning of the Alcoran."-What a contrast does the charitable and Christian-like feeling of these Moammarites afford to some of our own unchristian fanatics, who, setting themselves up for stewards of the mysteries, affix their own meaning-often a very revolting one-to "the letter that killeth ;" and if we hesitate to receive their interpretations, immediately begin to "deal damnation round. the land!" 1 ALDERMAN—A ventri-potential citizen, into whose mediterranean mouth good things are perpetually flowing, although none come out. His shoulders, like some of the civic streets, are "widened at the expense of the corporation." He resembles Wolsey; not in ranking himself with princes, but in being a man "of an unbounded stomach." A tooth is the only wise thing in his head, and he has nothing particularly good about him, except his digestion, which is an indispensable quality, since he is destined to become great by gormandising, to masticate his way to the Mansion-house, and thus, like a mouse in a cheese, to provide for himself a large dwelling, by continually eating. His talent is in his jaws; and like a miller, the more he grinds the more he gets. From the quantity he devours, it might be supposed that he had two stomachs, like a cow, were it not manifest that he is no ruminating animal. ALMS-To this word there is no singular, in order to teach us that a solitary act of charity scarcely deserves the name. Nothing is won by one gift. To render our bounties available, they must be in the plural number. It is always wise to be charitable, but it is almost peculiar to my friend L that he is often witty in his bounties. He was about to assist with a sum of money a scribbler in distress, when he was reminded that he had on more than one occasion been libelled and maligned by the intended object of his bounty. "Pooh," said L-, "I have so long known all his slanders by heart, that they have quite gone out of my head." 66 ALPHABET-Twenty-six symbols which represent singly or in combination, all the sounds of all the languages upon earth. By forming letters into words, which are the signs of ideas, we are enabled to embody thought, to render it visible, audible, perpetual, and ubiquitous. Embalmed in writing, the intellect may thus enjoy a species of immortality upon earth, and every man may paint an imperishable portrait of his own mind, immeasurably more instructive and interesting to posterity than those fleeting likenesses of the face and form entrusted to canvass, or even to bronse and marble. What myriads have passed away, body and mind, leaving not a wreck behind them, while the mental features of some contemporary writer survive in all the freshness and integrity with which they were first traced. Were I a literary painter how often should I be tempted in the pride of my heart, to exclaim with the celebrated artist, "Ed io anche sono Pittore." Although the word be derived from the two first letters of the Greek, every ALPHABET now in use may be traced with historical certainty to one original-the Phenician or Syriac. "Phenicia and Palestine," says Gibbon, "will for ever live in the memory of mankind; since America, as well as Europe, has received letters from the one and religion from the other." One of the earlier French princes being too indolent or too stupid to acquire his alphabet by the ordinary process, twentyfour servants were placed in attendance upon him, each with a huge letter painted upon his stomach; as he knew not their names, he was obliged to call them by their letter when he wanted their services, which in due time gave him the requisite degree of literature for the exercise of the royal functions. AMBIGUITY-A quality deemed essentially necessary to the clear understanding of diplomatic writings, acts of parlia ment, and law proceedings. AMBITION-A mental dropsy, which keeps continually swelling and increasing, until it kills its victim. Ambition is often overtaken by calamity, because it is not aware of its pursuer and never looks behind. "Deeming naught done while aught remains to do," it is necessarily restless; unable to bear anything above it, discontent must be its inevitable portion, for even if the pinnacle of worldly power be gained, its occupant will sigh, like Alexander, for another globe to conquer. Every day that brings us some new advancement or success, brings us also a day nearer to death, embittering the reflection, that the more we have gained, the more we have to relinquish. Aspiring to nothing but humility, the wise man will make it the height of his ambition to be unambitious. As he cannot effect all that he wishes, he will only wish for that which he can effect. AMBLE-Of this indefinite and intermediate pace, which, (to adopt the Johnsonian style) "without the concussiveness of the trot, or the celerity of the canter, neither contributes to the conservation of health, nor to the economy of time, nothing can be pronounced in eulogy, and little therefore need be said in description." To those elderly gentlemen, nevertheless, who are willing to sacrifice the perilous reputation of a good seat for the comfort of a safe one; an ambling nag has always been an equestrian beatitude. Such was the feeling of the Sexagenarian, who took his horse to the ménage, that it might be taught the “old gentleman's pace.” As the riding-master, after several trials, could not immediately succeed in his object, the owner of the animal petulantly cried out-"Zooks, Sir, do you call this an amble ?"-" No, Sir,”` was the reply, "I call it a pre-amble." ANCESTRY 66 -66 They who on length of ancestry enlarge, "Produce their debt instead of a discharge." They search in the root of the tree for those fruits which the branches ought to produce, and too often resemble potatoes, of which the best part is under ground. Pedigree is the boast of those who have nothing else to vaunt. In what respect, after all, are they superior to the humblest of their neighbours? Every man's ancestors double at each remove in geometrical proportion, so that after only twenty generations, he has above a million of progenitors. A duke has no more; a dustman has no less. A river generally becomes narrower and more insignificant, as we ascend to its source. The stream of ancestry, on the contrary, often vigorous, pure, and powerful at its fountain head, usually becomes more feeble, shallow, and corrupt as it flows downwards. Some of our ancient families, whose origin is lost in the darkness of antiquity, and into whose hungry maws the tide of patronage is for ever flowing, may be compared to the Nile, which has many mouths, and no discoverable head. Nobles sometimes illustrate that name about as much as an Italian Cicerone recalls the idea of Cicero. It is a double shame to a man to have derived distinction from his predecessors, if he bequeath disgrace to his posterity. "Heraldic honours on the base, Do but degrade their wearers more, ANCIENTS-Dead bones used for the purpose of knocking down live flesh. Every puny Sampson thinks he may wield his ass's jaw-bone in assaulting his contemporaries, by comparing them with their predecessors. If architects attempt anything original, they are ridiculed for their pains, and desired to stick to the five orders. This is the sixth order of the public. If artists follow the bent of their own genius, they are tauntingly referred by their new masters to the old masters, and desired not to indulge their own crude capriccios. Authors are schooled and catechized in the same way; but when either of the three conform to the instructions of their critics, they are instantly and unmercifully assailed as servile imitators, without a single grain of originality. Whether, therefore, they allow the ancients to be imitable or inimitable it is manifest that they only exalt them in order to lower their contemporaries, and that their suffrages would be reversed, if the ancients and moderns were to change places. With a similar jealousy we give a preference to old wine, old books, and an old friend, unless the latter should appear in the form of an old joke, when he is treated with the utmost scorn and contumely. As this is equally reprehensible and inconsistent, I shall endeavour to cure my readers of any such propensity, by habituating them to encounters with some of their old Joe Miller acquaintance. ANGER-Punishing ourselves for the faults of another; or committing an additional error, if we are incensed at our own mistakes. In either case, wrath may aggravate, but was never known to diminish our annoyance. "I wish," says Seneca, "that anger could always be exhausted, when its first weapon was broken, and that like the bees, who leave their stings in the wound they make, we could only |