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THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. BY CHARLES DICKENS (BOZ). The first and second numbers of this amusing periodical have reached us. In acute, caustic observation, and hu- morous exaggeration, of all that renders our species ridiculous, either in mind or manners, the present work will fully sustain the reputation to which the writer is so emi- nently entitled. After having written so much, and so well, and pourtrayed, in elaborate and indiscriminating quiz, every trade and profession under the sun, Boz the inimitable Boz-is now in the field, apparently as fresh to amuse and delight as if the present was the first creation of his teeming brain. What or who Martin Chuzzlewit is, is more of the author's business to say than ours. We are not sufficiently ill-natured to spoil a capital joke by telling the secret to our pensive public," and by an un- friendly anticipation of the fact, take from the pleasure the reader is sure to receive by a perusal of it. Without any very serious violation of the confidence reposed in us, we may be allowed occasionally to exhibit such samples of the work as will pique curiosity without satisfying it. We will not withhold our readers from the pleasure and surprise of an introduction to a gentleman, whom the world terms- SHABBY GENTEEL." The gentleman was of that order of appearance, which is currently termed shabby-genteel, though in respect of his dress he can hardly be said to have been in any extremities, as his fingers were a long way out of his gloves, and the soles of his feet were at an inconvenient distance from the upper leather of his boots. His nether garments were of a blueish gray-violent in its colours once, but sobered now by age and dinginess-and were so stretched and strained in a tough conflict between his braces and his straps, that they appeared every moment in danger of flying asunder at the knees. His coat, in colour blue, and of a military cut, was buttoned and frogged up to his chin. His cravat was, in hue and pattern, like one of those mantles which hair-dressers are accustomed to wrap about their clients during the pro- gress of the professional mysteries. His hat had arrived at such a pass, that it would have been hard to determine whether it was originally white or black. But he wore a moustache-a shaggy moustache too nothing in the meak and merciful way, but quite in the fierce and scornful style, the regular sort of thing--and he wore, besides, a very great quantity of unbrushed hair. He was very dirty and very jaunty; very bold and very mean; very swaggering and very slinking very much like a man who might have been something better, and unspeakably like a man who deserved to be something worse." n. n Here is another sample of MR. TUGG'S PHILOSOPHY. "'Oh, Chiv, Chiv!' added Mr. Tugg, surveying his adopted brother with an air of profound contemplation after dismissing this piece of pantomime. You are, upon my life, a strange instance of the little frailties that beset a mighty mind. If there had never been a telescope in the world, I should have been quite certain, from my observation of you, Chiv, that there were spots on the sun! I wish I may die, if this isn't the queerest state of existence that we find ourselves forced into, without knowing why or where- fore, Mr. Pecksniff! Well, never mind. Moralise as we will, the world goes on. As Hamlet says, Hercules may lay about him with his club in every possible direction, but he can't prevent the cats from making a most intolerable row on the roofs of the houses, or the dogs from being shot in the hot weather if they run about the streets unmuzzled. Life's a riddle a most infernally hard riddle to guess, Mr. Pecksniff. My own opinion is, that like that celebrated conundrum, Why's a man in jail like a man out of jail V there's no answer to it. Upon my soul and body, it's the queerest sort of thing altogether-but there's no use in talking about it. Ha! .hal' R CHINESE POLICE.—So summary is the mode in which the object of the police is effected in Canton, that it is no light matter to be once in their hands. The Chinese emphatically express their sense of this unfortunate condition by the popular phrase The meat is on the chopping block." Not unfrequently, in minor cases, a man receives the punishment, and again goes free, the same hour in which he commits the crime. The forms of trial are simple. There is no jury, no pleading. The criminal kneels before the magistrate, who hears the witnesses, and passes sentence J he is then remanded to prison, or sent to the place of execution. Seldom is he acquitted. When witnesses are wanting lie is sometimes tortured until he gives in evidence against himself. There are four jails in Canton, which together contain hell, or literally earth's prison." All capital offenders suffer without the southern gates, near the river. Hundreds die there annually. When brought to the fatal spot, they kneel with their faces towards the Emperor's court, and, bending forward in the attitude of submission and thanksgiving, suddenly expire beneath the bloody sword of the executioner. MUSIC A STIMULANT TO MENTAL EXERTION.—Alfieri, often before he wrote, prepared his mind by listening to music. Almost all my tragedies were sketched in my mind either in the act of hearing music or a few hours after"—a circumstance which has been recorded of many others. Lord Bacon had music often played in the room adjoining his study. Milton listened to his organ for his solemn inspira- tion, and music was even necessary to Warburton. The symphonies which awoke in the poet sublime emotions might have composed the inventive mind of the great critic in the visions of this theoretical mysteries. A celebrated French preacher, Bourdalon or Masilon, was once found playing on a violin, to screw his mind up to the pitch, pre- paratory to his sermon, which, within a short interval, he was to preach before the court. Curran's favourite mode of meditation was with his violin in his hand for hours toge- ther would he forget himself, running voluntaries over the strings, while his imagination in collecting its tones was opening all his faculties for the coming emergency at the bar.—V'Israeli on the Literary Character. LIFE IN DUBLIN LONG AGO.-Life in Dublin, at the time I write of, was about as gay a thing as a man can well fancy. Less debarred than in other countries from partaking of the lighter enjoyments of life, the members of the learned professions mixed much in society bringing with them stores of anecdote and information unattainable from other sources, they made what elsewhere would have proved the routine of intercourse, a season of intellectual enjoyment. Thus, the politician, the churchman, the barrister, and the military man, shaken as they were together in close intimacy, lost individually many of the prejudices of their caste, and learned to converse with a wider and more extended know- ledge of the world. While this was so, another element, peculiarly characteristic of the country, had its share in modelling social life that innate tendency to drollery, that bent to laugh with every one and at everything, so eminently Irish, was now in the ascendant. From the Viceroy down- wards, the island was on the broad grin. Every day fur- nished its share, its quota of merriment. Epigrams, good stories, repartees, and practical jokes, rained in showers over the land. A privy council was a conversazione of laughing bishops and droll chief justices. Every trial at the bar, every dinner at the court, every drawing-room, afforded a thme for some ready-witted absurdity; and all the graver business of life was carried on amid this current of unceasing fun and untiring laughter, just as we see the serious catastrophe of a modern opera assisted by the crash of an orchestral accom- paniment. —Jack Hinton.

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