son of a lord ruminates over a colony till the very crows cannot find a
dinner in it; and there again, a duke or a minister, himself and his
family, having first "supped full of horrors," casts a diocese to the
side-table, to be mumbled at leisure by his son's tutor. The town is
occasionally very indignant and very noisy against the gouls of
Surgeons' Hall, because they live upon the dead carcasses of their
fellow-creatures; while, strange to say, it takes but little account of
the hordes of wretches who openly, and in the face of day, hunt down
living men in their nefarious dealings as porter brewers, quack doctors,
informers, attorneys, manufacturers of bean flour, alum, and Portland
stone; and torture their subjects like so many barbacued pigs, in the
complicated processes of their cookery.--_New Month. Mag._

* * * * *

SIGNS OF THE TIMES.

"They say this town is full of cozenage,
As nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like libertines of sin."
SHAKSPEARE.

+Caveat emptor+! This is the age of fraud, imposture, substitution,
transmutation, adulteration, abomination, contamination, and many others
of the same sinister ending, always excepting purification. Every thing
is debased and sophisticated, and "nothing is but what is not." All
things are mixed, lowered, debased, deteriorated, by our cozening
dealers and shopkeepers; and, bad as they are, there is every reason to
fear that they are "mox daturos progeniem vitiosiorem." We wonder at the