I cannot let the messenger go without congratulating you on the prospect confirmed to us by the opening of the session. Our first battle was previous to the address, on the subject of the return for Westminster. The enemy chose to put themselves on bad ground, by moving that two Members ought to have been returned, without first hearing the High-Bailiff to explain the reasons of his conduct. We beat them on this by 283 to 136. The High-Bailiff is to attend to-day, and it will depend upon the circumstances stated whether he will be ordered to proceed in the scrutiny, or immediately to make a double return, which will bring the question before a committee. In either case I have no doubt of Fox being thrown out, though in either there may be great delay, inconvenience, and expense, and the choice of the alternative is delicate. We afterwards proceeded to the address, in which nothing was objected to but the thanking the King expressly for the dissolution. Opposition argued everything weakly, and had the appearance of a vanquished party, which appeared still more in the division, when the numbers were 282 to 114. We can have little doubt the progress of the session will furnish throughout a happy contrast to the last. We have indeed nothing to contend with but the heat of the weather and the delicacy of some of the subjects which must be brought forward.'

We close this volume with the earnest hope that it may not be the only one of its class to come before us. Every succeeding day, as it bears us further from the era of Pitt and Fox, removes more and more of the few who yet lingered amongst us, the contemporaries and friends of those illustrious men. Only last year we saw depart the sole surviving cabinet colleague of Pitt in his first administration; only last month. the devoted widow of Fox. But Time should not all destroy; and while, on the one hand, it breaks the remaining links of living affection, so, on the other hand, it should cast aside the ties of official reserve-it should unlock the most secret scrutoire-it should draw forth the most hoarded paper. The words 'private" and most private' on the cover need be no longer spells to restrain us. We may now, without any breach of public duty-without any wound to personal feelings-explore the hidden thoughts, the inward workings of those two great minds which stood arrayed against each other during twenty-three stormy and eventful years. We may trace them in their boyhood, and inquire whether it was in part through careful training, or all by their endowments at

birth, that each of them inherited his father's gift of geniusthat rarest of all gifts to inherit from a parent—as if, according to the fine thought of Dante, the Great Giver had willed to show that it proceeds from himself alone:

:

L'umana probitade, e questo vuole

Quei che la da, perche da lui si chiami.' (')

We may, perhaps, by the journal of some secretary or some trusted friend, pursue them in their country retirement, and their familiar conversation. We may walk by the side of Pitt along the avenue that he planted at Holwood, or sit with Fox beneath the wide-spreading cedar at St. Anne's. We may see the blotted notes from whence grew the elaborate oration still perused with delight; we may trace in some hasty sketch the germ of some great enactment by which we continue to be ruled. We may follow the rival statesmen in their far divergent paths through life, until their final resting-place, under the same stately roof, and within a few paces of each other: and thus, while such stores of information as the present volume supplies come gradually to light, both Pitt and Fox will no doubt become far better known to the present generation than they could be to the great mass of those amongst whom their own life was cast.

(QUARTERLY REVIEW.)

(') Purgat., lib. vii., verse 121.

MY HONEY-MOON;

OR, DOMESTIC BLISS.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE COMIC LATIN GRAMMAR.»

I HAVE ofter heard the complaint, that whereas almost all comedies and novels end with a marriage, which is supposed to be the beginning of a state of exquisite happiness, the world, (that is the single portion of it), is left in a state of ignorance as to what that happiness consists in. I purpose, in the following pages, to do something at least towards affording satisfaction on this point to those who stand in need of it, by giving them a sample of my own experience as a Benedict.

It is a twelvemonth to-day-this worked silk night-cap (affection's offering) which I now for the first time put on, reminds me of the fact-since my Laura made me the happiest of men. From the gay and festive scenes of the Metropolis, where the nuptial knot was tied, we hastened down to a delightfully snug little cottage, situated on the banks of the majestic Thames.

Never shall I forget those blissful emotions which I experienced when, on the second day of our joyful union, Laura and I, our morning meal (consisting of new-laid eggs, homebaked bread, fresh butter, delicious cream, fragrant Mocha, and some exquisitely-flavoured ham) having been despatched, walked forth into the morning sunshine down the gravel-path

of our little garden. The buds were coming out, and so (to speak of them as singers) were the little birds-the aerial goldfinch, the blackbirds in the gooseberry-bushes, and the lark on the plum-tree in its bloom. We walked together in a manner which we always adopt when nobody is looking at us. It is this. I take Laura's right hand in mine, and pass her arm around my left; then I do not let go of her hand, but continue to hold it, sustaining at the same time my own left hand with my right arm. In this way we wandered up and down the paths, and among the flowerbeds. At first we did not say much,-that is, we did not talk much; but when our eyes met, there was a mutual exchange of eloquence which no words, I am sure, could ever have effected. We looked at each other, then smiled, then sighed, then looked up into the clear blue sky, as if to ask what happier beings might dwell there. At length, after a long, but most expressive silence, my Laura spoke.

« Tootsicums!" she whispered, communicating to my left side the slightest possible impulse with her elbow. The endearing epithet which she applied to me was one with which affection had just enriched her vocabulary. She had read it in no book, culled it from no dictionary but that of the heart. Soft word!-it suited well her silvery tone« Tootsicums! » she said.

Kitsy, Kitsy, Kitsy, I replied, with a smile of fondness. "What shall we have, dear, for dinner?» she inquired.

«Well, sweet, shall it be a leg of mutton? But what do you like best, Tibby? (I sometimes call her Tibby, as she calls me Tootsicums,) I asked. The affectionate creature, with a movement of feigned impatience, looked up, with one of those peculiar glances which always had such an effect upon me, into my face for an instant, and then fixed her eyes on the ground. There was no mistaking her meaning. Nay, I said, my soul's treasure, I meant, what do you like best to eat?»

VOL. IV.

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29

"Oh! she replied, there are so many nice things, dear. There's fricandeau of veal, you know."

"Yes, and veal-cutlets."

Yes, and curried chicken. »

«Yes, and haricot mutton. »

群

Oh, yes! and-Law! oh, Tootsicums, what say you to a

leg of pork-boiled, you know? With peas-pudding?

Oh, yes!-with peas-pudding,» cried the delighted girl.— "It will be so nice-I am so fond of it. »>

Now don't talk so, sir," said the playful creature; "you mustn't-if you do, I shall beat you."

«Kitsy, Kitsy, Kitsy," was my reply to this pretty threat, imprinting as I thus expressed myself-but it is not fair, even for a husband, to kiss and tell.

Don't, said dear Laura; see how you've bent my bonnet!» She said « don't» in a tone which converted « don't into « do, with the addition of you can't think how it gratifies me.» Beautiful example of affectionate irony!

I'll never do so any more," said I, rubbing my eyes, and pretending to cry like a little boy.

"You are sure, now? »

I answered by repeating the offence forthwith; at which Laura exclaimed, in her little bewitching way, Oh, you naughty story!» slapping me at the same time on the shoulder, but also allowing her hand to remain there, which, if she had hit me ever so hard, would have taken all the pain away. Hereupon my arm almost unconsciously encircled her delicate form, and her hand continuing where she had placed it, we, as it were, instinctively began to waltz. We waltzed in and out of the flower-beds, up and down the gravel-path, all around the green, and then back again down to the summer-house. As we were whirling along, my dressing-gown happened to catch in a gooseberry-bush, and down I came, with dear Laura too, of course. My falling first, however, saved her; but as to myself, I fell backwards, and received an unpleasant bruise, and, what was worse, tore my new trowsers.

Jim! dear Jim!» almost shrieked my affectionate Laura