or bridegroom, a fine is levied, which constitutes a fund for filling the cogue. The allekays and envoys now deliver up their ribbons to the bride-maids, for which they are entitled to the remuneration of a kiss, generally paid without reluctance. You, Mr Editor, and such of your readers as have never witnessed a si milar fete, are doubtless imagining that the scene last described is the finale. Not so fast, if you please. On Monday evening, just about gloamin, the husbands and wives of the village assemble at the house of the newlymarried couple, to celebrate the welcome hame, by a good drink and funny crack. If ever the wives and grannies exhibit any approximation to being tipsy, amidst all the comings and goings of these festivities, this is the time. The mind is not only free from care, but is in a certain degree expanded by good humour and the social affections; no strange eye is looking on, and the whole is a scene of domestic cheerfulness. In such a situation, every one knows that the animal spirits are very susceptible of the excitement produced by strong liquors. A stoup is made for them, and the newly inarried wife, in which the carles join, and the quegh is handed about, till all present forget that they are old, by talking of subjects which indicate that they still imagine themselves young. Such are the features and incidents of a country penny wedding, and, although "The rich deride, the proud disdain, These humble pleasures of the lowly train," yet they are an agreeable relaxation from their constant toils, and calculated to promote that social intercourse so congenial to the nature of man. Let the city belle who shines at a birth-day assembly, amidst a profusion of silk, and pearl, and lace, before she censure the dress or manners of the rustic maiden, reflect how she herself languishes to catch the eye of a peer, how willingly she would flirt with a baronet, or even take a moonlight walk under his escort, were she not restrained by etiquette rather than inclination. And let the honourables, the knights, and the squires, whom racy port and sparkling champagne inspire with lofty thoughts, suppress the smile of scorn that wrinkles their upper lip, when they see the poor man forgetting his cares, and for a moment elevated into the regions of imagina tion. With the rich and the idle every day is a holiday, while those of the humble labouring peasant are, "like angels' visits, few and far he tween."-I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, AGRESTIS. THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. MR EDITOR, I SENT you some time ago a few Waterloo relics; and as you kindly inserted them," I venture to offer you another piece of a different sort, though connected with the same e vent. In my rambles near this city, it has been my lot to scrape acquaintance with Corporal Underwood, late of the Foot Guards, who lost his left arm on the memorable 18th of June. The Corporal, however, won the heart of a fair Belgian, and is now the sonin-law of a respectable farmer, with whom he resides between this place and St Nicholas. Having listened always with attention, and sometimes with interest, to Mr Underwood's anecdotes of the battle, I at length gained his entire confidence. With blushing modesty he avowed himself a poet, and owned that the height of his ambition was to see his favourite production appear in print. I inclose it to you, hoping you will be able to oblige the gallant Corporal, without disobliging your readers. And am your's sincerely, Brussels, Aug. 11, 1818. C. N. And long and weary was the way, till just as dusk began, We pitched our bivouack upon the heights of Mont St Jean. And O, that night was stormy still with lightning and with thunder, As if the very vault of heaven would split itself asunder. And there we lay all cold, and thought, if not in fear, in sorrow, Of those that we had left at home, and of the dark to-morrow. No sunbeam shone upon that morn, but dark and dull it rose, And seemed to scowl upon the earth as foes do on their foes; And there we saw the French drawn up upon the other height, With long dark lines of men in blue, and bayonets shining bright. Our centre was at La Haye Sainte, in front of Mont St Jean, Just where the road from Charleroi that leads to Brussels ran; Our left flank rested on Smouhen, our right upon Merke Braine, And in the centre 'twas the same; for there upon La Haye, The Frenchmen made a desperate charge and almost won the day; The Hanovers fought well, and when their shot was all expended, They fell as soldiers ought to fall, on the spot they had defended. So the French dragoons they gained the hill; but Picton met them there, And the deadly push of the British steel the rascals could not bear ; And the gallant Greys they leaped the hedge, and then those cocks of game, With the 92d, made the French run faster than they came. The ground was strewed with mailed men in iron and in brass, And as the chargers passed, their hoofs rung on the fallen cuirass; Then Picton fell in glory's arms with a bullet through his brain, I knew Sir Thomas Picton well, for I served with him in Spain. At half-past six Napoleon made his last severe attack, With Hougoumont in front between the With double columns of his guards, whe hills upon the plain. So the French went round and round the house, and roared and cursed and fired; And the guards they fired back on them, till both were fairly tired; And the court-yard blazed, and the grapeshot flew like mad through wall and wood, But stout Lord Salton and the guards still made their footing good. Then General Foy with the steel clad horse, that the French call cuirassiers, Dashed on and charged the hollow squares of the guards and Brunswickers. We did not care so much for them; but the French artillery It played point blank and swept the files of our squares most dismally. So on they came, guns, cuirassiers, and column after column; The oldest men from Spain looked queer, and thought it rather solemn. But still our lads they kept their ground, and stood both stout and stiff; While the French drew back like the broken wave from the foot of Dover cliff. drove our light troops back; They never yet had met their match, so they thought the victory sure, And they shouldered their arms, and march ed along, shouting Vive L'Empereur. But our cannon checked their march a bit, and when they gained the height, They stood stock still, for there in front they saw an ugly sight,The guards were getting on their feet, the Duke was at their head; "Up guards and at 'em!" was the word'Twas done as soon as said. "Twas in this charge I lost my arm, but little of that thought 1, When I sat and saw the English guards doing so famously. The fight was won; for on the left old Blucher's cannon thundered, Napoleon swore 'twas Grouchy's corps, in which he sadly blundered. But Blucher soon shewed who he was; for on Napoleon's right He poured pell mell, and fixed at last the fortune of the fight. And Wellington deployed his squares, and led them on in line; And the sun himself looked out from his clouds, and at length began to shine. "Twas worth his while, for such a sight he ne'er again may see, When down the hill like lightning whirled the horse artillery; And the line advanced, and the light dragoons they scoured across the field, While the few of the French that still remained, stood but to die or yield. We took 150 guns, the Prussians as many more, And 40,000 French lie there, that shall follow the drum no more. A grape shot split my arm; and so with others I was sent, And put into the Doctor's hands, at the hospital of Ghent. They amputated me, and now I'm doing very well; But I do not grudge the loss of an arm, when I've such a tale to tell. And now my noble countrymen, 1 needs must hope that you Over your wine will spare a toast to the men of Waterloo. ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOGNOMY. Not very many years ago, the study of physiognomy was rendered popular by the writings of Lavater; or, perhaps, I ought only to say, that, by means of these writings, the attention of the public was strongly directed to that study. At present, however, it is almost forgotten; and the transition from general notice to general neglect, has been so sudden as to deserve some consideration. If this has proceeded from physiog nomy being in itself undeserving of regard, or incapable of being pursued with advantage, it were then extremely improper to attempt the revival of its study; but if the neglect has arisen from the imprudence of its friends, or the injustice of its enemies, it will, in some degree, be meritorious to bring it again into view. And that the present indifference to the subject has arisen from the latter causes is, in my opinion, altogether undeniable. Lavater was a man of the most amiable dispositions, and by no means destitute of genius; but it is equally true that he was an enthusiast who magnified the importance of his favourite study, and who, by attempting to make it rank with some of the more exact sciences, brought it not unfrequently into ridicule. His vulnerable positions were assailed and demolished without mercy; and so much was thus overthrown that many weak minds, who had been friendly to the cause, began to doubt the stability of the whole fabric; while those who VOL. III. might be considered as bystanders only, among whom are to be classed the greater portion of society, came all to agree that it had never rested on any solid foundation. The sketch of its history for a few years may perhaps account for the present degraded state of physiognomy, even although it may really merit consideration; and whether it does so, or the contrary, will be the subject of the following observations. It is now an established maxim, both in natural and moral philosophy, that we know nothing of the essence either of mind or body. Of both we can judge only from the phenomena which they present to our senses, or the effects which they produce in our minds, and with which we become acquainted by consciousness. Of all our senses, the most important is that of seeing. It is true that, when taken alone, and without the aid of our other senses, sight would mislead us more than any of the rest; but after we have exercised this facul ty for a few years in conjunction with the senses of touch and hearing, the other two being comparatively of little value, we are able, by sight alone, to decide on almost every property of the bodies or living creatures with which we are surrounded. Nor can it be disputed, that, to every man arrived at maturity, the sense of sight is by far the most important of the whole, and answers nearly all the purposes of all the rest. From the appearances of the objects which surround us it is that we regulate our conduct respecting them. Pleasure and disgust, love and hatred, dislike, fear and terror, are all excited in our minds by appearances alone; and, if this holds as to nature in general,-if it holds in regard to all the lower animals,-shall we say that the appearance or physiognomy of man, the noblest work of creation, the image of the Creator, is entirely to be disregarded? Not one of us dare answer in the negative; for the physiognomy of man is fraught with meaning, is full of instruction. From the earliest ages the stupidity of the ox has been proverbial, and we may remark, that, in proportion as other animals approach in figure and appearance to the ox, so, in like manner, do they approach to it in stupidity. What a contrast between the heavy, shapeless, mass of the heifer, and the elegant and animated figure of the horse, and how much superior is the latter in sagacity! But it were endless to trace all the instances of correspondence between figure and capacity which might be afforded by the lower animals. It is sufficient for my purpose to observe, that, by a wise law of Nature, there is always found to exist a certain relation between the shape and appearance of bodies animate and inanimate, and their properties and qualities; and were it not so, it would be exceedingly unfortunate for our own species; for, if such relation did not exist, how could we, who cannot pe dental and necessary effects of the several motions of features which are to be found in the several classes of quadrupeds; but we find, besides, several peculiar muscles to which no other office can be assigned than to act as organs of expression, to serve as instruments of that universal language which has been called instinctive, which at least produces something like the effect of innate sympathy." Among those muscles peculiar to the human countenance. Mr Bell, I think, ranks the depressor angulioris, the depressor ala nasi, the nasalis labii superiores, and the descending fibres of the occipitis frontalis. He takes notice, also, of the more minute and fasciculated structure of all the muscles of the lips, all of which, he says, "act where it is impossible to conceive any other object for their existence than that of expressing feeling and sentiment." And he proceeds," It is, in short, with man alone that we can with strict propriety say the countenance is an index of the mind, having expression corresponding to each emotion of the soul." Again he says,"This capacity of expression, this indication of a mind susceptible of great or of tender emotions, has a great share in human beauty, whether in the human countenance or that which the pencil presents. How fascinating when compared with the insipid prettiness and regular features of an inanimate beauty, is that susceptibility which lightens up the countenance and plays upon the features of a woman of sensibility, even chile she is unmoved by any particular affection." netrate to the essence of bodies, regulate our conduct. We should not know an enraged bull from a peaceable, unmeaning, and harmless ox, nor a man in the heat of passion from one whose passions are settled as the ocean in a calm. We should be in danger of marrying an idiot for a wit, and of mistaking a shrew for one possessed of all the benevolence and placidity of an angel. But who will contend that we do not, at once, know an idiot from man of ordinary sense, and a man of at least common ability from a fool? The want of mind, incapacity, animality, of the one, and the open mouth, broad stare, and incongruity of fea ture of the other, make each as certain as if their powers and dispositions were stamped upon their foreheads in legible characters; and what characters, indeed, are more legible than those of folly, and insuperable stupidity? But we need not stop here. Are not the choleric, sanguine, melancholic, and phlegmatic, distinguishable by every one of common penetration? And, if nature has, in these instances, established such a perceptible correspondence between certain features of the face, and certional to conclude, that a similar agreetain mental dispositions, is it not ra ent exists in other cases, which, at first sight, is not so obvious? Extremes are always most easily discernible; but though the gradations of feature corresponding to the degrees of wisdom or folly, ardour, and indifference, are not so easily distinguishable, it does not follow that patient attention shall not, in the end, aecomplish, even here, what it seldom fails to accomplish in other branches of study. Many will ask, with a sneer, are we then to judge of the capacity and good qualities of each other from the length of a nose, or the breadth of a forehead? Are our characters thus to be placed at the merey of every fool who shall imagine himself to be a physiognomist? To such questions I would answer by putting a few more. I would ask, are you not in the habit of daily deciding on the qualities and tempers of individuals from their appearance only? Do you not say, I like this person,-I am not fond of that,-I am perfectly indifferent to another,-merely from the impression made upon you by their appearance. If asked how this happened, you will probably say, that you do not know; but is it more foolish to say, that there is fire, genius, or malice in this eye, taste or want of taste in that nose, meekness or sensuality in this mouth; firmness or incapacity in that chin, on account of certain specific appearances in each, than to inform us that you see all or each of these qualities in such and such persons, but whence this arises, or how it af Physiognomy must, it is plain, increase our detestation of vice, and our love of virtue; for, in proportion as we recede from the one, we approach and admire the other. But what is the object of all well-directed education but to accomplish these desirable purposes? And, if physiognomy seconds the best ends of education, and serves to confirm our virtue, it is well deserving of our study and attention. BY CALEB QUOTEM, ESQ. "Fleas are not lobsters, damn their souls." PETER PINDAR. MR EDITOR, fects you, you cannot tell? In short, ON SWEaring. It was a favourite maxim with some ancient philosophers, that the majority are wicked; and if this be really the case, as some moderns have agreed in thinking, it will not be difficult to account for the outcry against physiognomy. For the wicked, the passionate, and the foolish, must always lose the more, the more they are known. Malice and envy will generally be seen in the eye, and in their effects on the smaller muscles of the lips and around the mouth; and of this the malicious and envious may easily satisfy themselves by examining their faces in a mirror, when their malevolent affections are at their height. In the same manner may pride and discontent be detected. And no man can habitually indulge any passion to a considerable degree, without fixing the marks of it in his features. These marks may not be equally conspicuous to all, or may not be seen by any for some time; but they will soon be remarked by him who studies mankind, and in the end will become visible to all. For who mistakes the decided drunkard, rake, or sensualist? or who finds much difficulty in discovering the ill-concealed working s of petty malice, pride, or vanity AMONG the improvements in language to which the progress and intercourse of society have given rise, there is perhaps none of more importance than that mode of speech which certain privileged orders have denominated profane swearing. You may have observed, Mr Editor, as indeed every one who mixes with the world must have observed, the growing importance of this department of expression,-its general, I had almost said universal, use by every class of society, and the wonderful spirit and force it has infused into a language hitherto accounted monotonous; and I dare say it has surprised other inquirers besides myself, that modern grammarians have not yet given it a place in their arrangements of the integral parts of our language. Deeply impressed with the importance of the subject, connected as it is with all our notions of rank and affluence, and aware of its forming the most indispensable part of fashionable conversation, I shall beg your indulgence, and that of your readers, while I offer a few thoughts on the present system of swearing; deferring the more particular examination of the subject in all its bearings, and withholding many of my illustrations, till the publication of my quarto volume on this branch of education. In the meantime, however, I should be glad to suggest to Mr Lindley Murray, that, in the next edition of his English Grammar, it might be worth while to insert Imprecation in his list of the parts of speech, and make a small addition to the adjectives derived from oaths, under the title of ultra-adjectives. In |