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insignificant acquisition as compared with their varied knowledge of public affairs, which, in many cases, is truly wonderful. Their position, too, is most favourable to the indefinite extension of their general information, from their compulsory regularity in Parliament, and the necessarily minute attention they are compelled to pay to men and measures as they come before the house, and, through their agency, before the public.

before alluded to. Take Macaulay, for instance: | report in detail, their mere short-hand becomes an he cannot be condensed; if he is abbreviated, it is only by mutilation! The great efforts of Disraeli, Lord John Russell, and others, may be placed in the same category. While every idea suggested and every fact uttered during a speech of half an hour, by some members, have often been clearly expressed in one third of a column, and even less, half an hour of Macaulay, the other night, made more than two side columns of the small type in the morning paper with which we have the honour to be connected. To judge of the labour involved in such a "turn," an attempt should be made to transcribe one of these columns-a task which few would have the patience to complete, how eloquent soever might be the speech selected for transcription.

Between these two extremes, there is a class of speakers whose observations, although they cannot be entirely recast and condensed, may yet be briskly pruned with great advantage. In fact, these shades of difference are so minute and varied, that, to do justice to the merits of the speaker, and, at the same time, to have a due regard to the value of space-this constitutes the grand difficulty of the parliamentary reporter. Then there is the fact staring him in the face, that he has no time to weigh the matter; he must have ability enough to dash it off as fast as he can put pen to paper; and to crown all, he remembers that there will be five other papers to compare with his before he leaves his bed the next morning. If he published at the end of the week, or even a few hours after his contemporaries, he could avail himself of their labours; but they all appear at the same hour, and he has probably two more "turns" of equal difficulty, to prepare for which he must plunge at once into the chaos of his hieroglyphic note-book, while an inky little satellite of the printer rushes off with each individual slip of paper the moment it is

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Under the pressure of the multifarious difficulties here imperfectly suggested, a charitable view must be taken of the numbers of clever and excellent men who have distinguished themselves on provincial papers by the accuracy of their reports and their general ability in newspaper work, but who, on coming to London and entering our gallery," have completely failed. Many a man, eminent in general reporting, has given up a lucrative appointment on a country paper, on a chance presenting itself of getting into that branch of the profession which is justly considered the summit of a reporter's ambition, but who has signally failed; and, of late years, the peripatetic professors of new systems of short-hand have added largely to the number of these disappointments by their extravagant pretensions as to the brevity and legibility of their systems, and the rapidity with which they are falsely said to be acquired.

After the peep within the veil which we have endeavoured to afford in these remarks, the reader will be prepared to hear that the mere knowledge of short-hand forms a very small portion of those acquirements which are essentially necessary to the successful reporter. This is especially true with reference to parliamentary reporters, as, from the vast diversity of the subjects they are called upon, now to express briefly, and anon to

If you look down into the body of the house, you will see the Rt. hon. Benj. Disraeli, ex-chancellor of the exchequer, Mr. Maguire, and Mr. M Mahon-all these, and probably several others unknown to the present writer, have occupied seats in "our gallery" at the commencement of their respective careers.

A recent alteration in the House of Commons deserves notice. There is no gas-lamp anywhere visible, the house being lighted wholly from the roof, at the top of which are large square panes of figured glass, through which, by the aid of a large number of jets of gas and powerful reflectors, a strong light is cast down into the house. The process is very ingenious, no doubt, yet it is any thing but agreeable to the eyes of the reporters, as may easily be imagined. The members have the advantage of being at a greater depth from it, and by generally keeping their hats on, their brims serve as a sort of protection. So strong, however, is the light in our gallery, that we cannot distin guish sometimes even personal friends in the strangers' gallery, at the opposite end of the house.

There is a mysterious place of resort over our rooms, in which ladies peep down upon the house through a pretty floriated grating. One might be years in the body of the house, and perhaps months even in our gallery, without being cogni zant of this interesting fact. Nothing appears to be generally known of this gallery, except that it seems impossible to find out who is there, and difficult to know how they get there. We should be sorry to be so ungallant as to interfere with the fair ones; but the cold air sometimes rushes down from their gallery most uncomfortably upon our heads. So disagreeable did this become a short time back, that several of us were compelled,! in self-defence, to be so impertinent as to protect our heads from the sudden check of cold air by the adoption of unique and variegated skull-caps. This singular expedient had its effect, and we are now rarely troubled in the same direction. The fair ones, in spite of the libellous charge of garrulity which is often brought against them, gene rally keep very quiet; but we often do hear a word or two, from that interesting quarter, where the speakers are invisible; and it certainly is enough to disconcert the most placid old stager, to have his attention cut short in the middle of a long and brilliant peroration from Macaulay or Disraeli, by a tittering feminine whisper of," Oh! do come here, Amelia!"

THOUSANDS in their last hours have acknowledged the annals of our species, who has bequeathed it to us, as his vanity of the world; but who is that individual, in the last testimony, that religion is a vain thing, or that it is possible to be too religious?

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"MURDER WILL OUT."

THE following remarkable incident, which we copy from a daily journal, is worthy of being placed upon permanent record, as affording a fresh illustration of the retributive justice which, even in this world, so generally tracks the footsteps of the evil-doer. The crime to which we are about to refer took place in Russia.

"In the month of May, 1851, a schooner was despatched from the village of Soroka, near the town of Kemi, to Spitzbergen, with orders to remain the winter over in the latter place. The schooner was commanded by a captain, by the name of Ivan Goosdaroff, and having under him a mate, by name Jacob Isakoff, and seven sailors. Some time after the vessel had arrived at Spitzbergen, the mate and the greater number of the crew became desirous of returning home, and demanded that the captain should accede to their wishes, before winter set in. The captain, however, refused, telling them that they were bound to obey him, and to fulfil the engagements they had entered into; and, in consequence, the mate, in particular, was very much incensed against him.

One day, when the captain had gone on shore, with two of the men, Ivan Sinej and Andrei Kulikin, to shoot wild fowl, it appears that the men remaining on board, having consulted with each other, had come to the determination of sailing away and leaving the captain and the two abovenamed men to their fate; for when the captain, who was the first to give up the sport, came down to the seashore and called for a boat, a long time elapsed before his order was attended to. At length the mate and a sailor, by name Gregori, came with a boat, both having their guns with them. When the captain expressed his displeasure at their want of promptitude in obeying his orders, the mate told him that unless he fired off his gun, he would not take him back in the boat. The skipper complied; but instead of allowing him to get into the boat, the mate now ordered Gregori to shoot him down. Gregori immediately obeyed orders, but missed his aim, and the captain was about to fly, when the mate, rushing forward, caught him and held him fast. The skipper now implored the men to spare his life, but finding them inexorable, he at length bared his breast, begging them not to torture him but to put him to death at once. Unmoved by his submission, the mate fired, and the captain fell, a ball having passed through his heart; and the murderers, taking his gun with them, hurried off to the ship, set sail, and directed their course homewards.

From some heights behind the scene of action, the two men who had accompanied the captain on shore had been witnesses of the dreadful deed, and when they arrived on the beach, they found the skipper's corpse, which they buried on the spot. Ivan Sinej, who knew how to write, then immediately scratched on the stock of his gun a succinct narrative of what had taken place, as also the name of the murderer; and as they feared that they might starve to death in this desert spot, the two men then went to a place seventy wersts from thence, where they hoped to meet with some of their countrymen; but when, after a most fatiguing

journey, they had reached the spot, they found nothing but a little empty hovel.

As long as they had powder and shot they supported life with the game which they killed, but which they were obliged to eat raw, as they had no fuel wherewith to make a fire. When their provision of ammunition was exhausted, nothing remained for them but to die. Andrei Kalikin died at the end of four weeks, and Ivan Sinej having recorded this event with the others on the stock of his gun, added that he also was very weak, and felt the approach of death, which probably ensued after a short while.

"The murderer and his companions had in the meanwhile arrived at Berlevaag, in East Finmark, having, as they pretended, lost two of the crew on their way from Spitzbergen, and one man died after their arrival in Berlevaag, and was buried there. Having hired two Norwegian sailors to make up their loss, they proceeded to Vardo, where a Russian skipper allowed them to take two of his crew in lieu of the Norwegians, and with these they returned to Soroka. Here they reported that the captain and the rest of the crew had perished on a whaling expedition at Spitzbergen, but as suspicions were entertained against them, they were placed under arrest. However, no evidence could at that time be brought against them, and they were therefore soon again liberated.

"But the crime was not long to remain unavenged. In the month of March, last year, a vessel from Hammerfest, in Norway, happened to anchor at Spitzbergen, near the spot where Ivan Sinej and Andrei Kulikin died. The corpse of the latter was found outside the cabin, that of the former in the cabin, and at its side the gun with the portentous inscription. The Norwegians buried the corpses, and carried away with them the gun, which on their return to Hammerfest was despatched by a Russian ship to Archangel, and delivered into the hands of the governor there. The murderers were in consequence immediately seized and examined. On seeing the tell-tale gun, they at once confessed their guilt, and confirmed all the facts stated there as far as they were acquainted with them. They further confessed that as Gregori, who had first fired at the captain, had subsequently laid claim to assume the chief command of the vessel, they had thrown him overboard, and that later still, when, during the course of their voyage, one of the other men expressed remorse at what had been done, they had also thrown him overboard, for fear of his betraying them. The man who died on their arrival at Berlevaag had also, in a manner, been put to death, for as he expressed excessive joy at the thought of meeting countrymen on shore, they thought this portended evil, and availing themselves of his inordinate love of brandy, they induced him to drink to such an excess that he died in consequence.”

EIGHT USEFUL DIRECTIONS.-1. Let not the wisdom of the world be your guide.-2. Let not the way of the world be your rule.-3. Let not the wealth of the world be your chief good.-4. Let not the cares of the world enyou.-6. Let not the crosses of the world disquiet you.cumber you.-5. Let not the comforts of the world entangle 7. Be not too fond of life.-8. Be not too fearful of death.

Varieties.

A WALL OF FIRE OR WALL OF SNOW. It was dur

MAXIMS TO GUIDE THE YOUNG.-Keep good company or none. Never be idle. If your hands cannot being the campaign which brought the allied armies to Paris, usefully employed, attend to the cultivation of your mind. Always speak the truth. When you speak to a person, look him in the face. Never listen to loose and infidel conversation. If any one speaks evil of you, let your life be so virtuous that none will believe him. When you retire to bed, think over what you have been doing during the day. Never speak lightly of religion. Abhor sin if you would be happy.

The shortest and surest way to live with honour in the world is to be in reality what we appear to be.

You may glean knowledge by reading, but you must separate the chaff from the wheat by thinking. Persevere in every thing that an enlightened conscience tells you is honest and right, and you need not fear the result.

One hour a day gained by rising early is worth one month of labour in a year. The difference between rising at five and seven o'clock in the morning, for the space of forty years, supposing a man to go to bed at the same hour at night, is nearly equivalent to the addition of ten years to a man's life.

Nothing begets confidence sooner than punctuality.
Great talkers are generally small doers.

He who anticipates calamities, suffers them twice over. Death is like thunder in two particulars: we are alarmed at the sound of it: and it is formidable only from that which preceded it.-Colton.

Witty sayings are as easy lost as the pearls of a broken string; but a word of kindness is seldom spoken in vain. It is a seed which, even when dropped by chance, springs up a flower.

The more ideas a man has of other things, the less he is taken up with ideas of himself.

Happiness consists in the gratification of the desires; to make their attainment probable, they should be reasonable; to make their enjoyment lasting, they must be virtuous.

Wit loses its respect with the good when seen in company with malice.

Every virtue communicates a proportionate degree of felicity, as may be instanced in that of honesty, which gains confidence; the exercise of judgment gains estimation; prudence, respect; courtesy and affability, affection; temperance gains health and fortitude, that peace of mind which adversity cannot disturb.

Lay it down as a rule, never to smile, nor in any way show approval or merriment at any trait in a child which you would not wish to grow with his growth, and strengthen with his strength.

The longer I live, says a great writer, the more certain I am that the great difference between men, the great and the insignificant, is energy-invincible determination-an honest purpose once fixed-and then death or victory. That quality will do anything that can be done in the world; and no talents, no circumstances, no opportunity will make a two-legged creature a man without it.

We cannot expect too little from man, nor too much

from God.

God in Christ, as one of old described him, is ". a sea of sweetness without a single drop of gall."

God views effects in their causes, and actions in their motives.

To find God in every thing, is one important means of learning to find every thing in God.

The merely outward irregularities of men bear no more proportion to the whole of their depravity, than the partieles of water which are occasionally emitted from the surface of the ocean do to the tide that rolls beneath.

FULLER.

in 1814, that an aged woman and her grandson, who lived in a small village in Germany, were preparing for their nightly rest. The peasants universally entertained a wellgrounded terror of the marauding Cossacks, who formed the light cavalry of the Russian army, and who, penetrat ing the most obscure solitudes, swept away all on which the subsistence of the poor inhabitants depended. From the position of the advancing troops, these unwelcome visitants were at this time hourly expected in the village. "Grandmother," said the child, when their simple supper was done, "what shall we do if the Cossacks come here?' "We must put our confidence in God," she replied, "for He never forgets any who trust in Him. And now, my child, read the chapter, and let us ask our Heavenly Father to take care of us.' The evening's portion was the second chapter of Zechariah, and the old woman called the boy's attention to the promise in the fifth verse; "I will be a wall of fire round about." "But," said he, with the literal exactness of childhood, " will God really make a wall of fire round us to keep out the Cossacks ?" "I do not say that," replied the grandmother, "but he will certainly protect us in the best way; and if there were no other means of doing so but by fire, even that would not be wanting." They went to bed and slept; the one in the carelessness of youth, the other in the calmness of faith. The night was quiet, and seemed unusually long, till the grandmother-though not a gleam of daylight appeared-desired the child to rise and open the door. On doing so, he found the entrance, as well as the window, blocked up with snow. As there were prisoners: and when on the ensuing day they contrived to provisions enough in the house, they remained contented liberate themselves, it appeared that, during that very night, the dreaded Cossacks had entered the village; and while the terrified inhabitants sought safety in flight, had destroyed some of their dwellings, and plundered all. One cottage only, hidden by the drifting snow, escaped; and there, we may well believe, the aged Christian and young companion devoutly returned thanks to Him who had heard their prayers, and made a wall of snow no less effectual for their protection than one of fire.-Youthful Thinker.

THE REV. PHILIP SKELTON.-The provost of the University was wont to exact from the students, and Philip's indisposition to submit to this soon made the reigning provost his enemy. On one occasion he accused the youth of being a Jacobite, and without heeding Skelton's firm but respectful denial, he said to him: Child, I'll ruin you for ever!" "Will you ruin my soul, sir?" Skel college here.". tou replied. "No," he said; "but I'll ruin you in the "Oh, sir," Philip observed, "that is but a short for ever." The same year in which he took his de gree of B. A., being then at home, in the parish of Derria. ghy, a remarkable circumstance occurred, which he ever afterwards regarded as an instance of the Divine judgment. He was then twenty-one years of age; and since he was eight years old he had never once omitted, morning or night, to offer up his prayers to God, until one morning two or three of his companions broke in upon him while he was in bed, and carried him off with them "to play long bullets." While they were engaged in this exercise, a three-pound ball thrown by one of his companions, hit a stone, and leaping back, struck him above the left eye, flattening the projecting part of the skull. He fell to the ground as one dead, and was taken to the house of a woman who knew something of surgery; she stitched the wound in five different places, and kept him some time at her house. A small splinter of bone came away from the skull before he quite recovered; and he always considered that an originally excellent constitution had been much shattered by this hurt. Connecting this circumstance with the fact that for this morning only, during so many years, he had omitted prayer to God, he always regarded it reverently as a warning judgment and special providence towards him. Kitto's Sunday Readings.

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