do you know he is my poet of all poets?" And before they had gone the round of the garden, the sage and the soldier had repeated almost the whole of the second book of the Georgics; and now, having begged and obtained a flower as a memento of his visit, the officer took his leave, with the promise of soon returning and bringing with him his brother.

"If all republicans," said Bernardin, "were like these two brothers, the republic would be heaven, and I need not so long to die."

And with fresh impulse, and an interest increased by the sympathy of his visitor in his love of flowers, Saint Pierre turned to his labours. The second part of his Harmonies de la Nature was finished, and he was now engaged upon the last division of his great work "The Harmonies of Human Nature," when one day a knock at the door of his library made him raise his head to see, as he believed, the face of one of his two friends in the Italian army, though whether the elder or the younger he could not at once distinguish. On nearer survey, he discovered, to his great perplexity, that neither the one nor the other stood before him. The uniform of this third officer was exactly the same, he had the same masses of black hair, the same eyes, but though a little older than the first, and younger than the second of his former visitors, he seemed to bear more traces than either of the struggle and the vigil; and his brow was graver and more thoughtful. Still the triple resemblance was most striking, and for a moment Bernardin scarcely knew whether he was to greet him as a stranger; but before he could speak, the visitor introduced himself as the brother of the two officers, the kindness of whose reception had encouraged him to pay his respects to the friend of Jean Jacques Rousseau, to the illustrious author of the Etudes de la Nature, and to venture to offer the admiring homage of a blunt soldier.

Was it those lips with their Attic cut, and firm grace, which smile and threat seemed alike to become, or was it the deep voice, the piercing eagle glance, or his already high reputation as the greatest captain of the age, that riveted the attention of the philosopher upon this last of the three brothers, and indeli bly impressed upon his memory every word of the conversation which now ensued?

But this third brother and the poet spoke not of scenery, nor stars, nor sun, nor streams, nor flowers. They spoke of human nature, of the universal brotherhood of mankind, of philosophy, and patriotism. They spoke, too, of the present evil days, the old man with some little bitterness and much indulgence, the young man with hopes aspiring and daring as his conquests; and while laying open future prospects with almost prophetic clearness, he showed the certain and impending destruction of all parties by each other, and the consequent and near approach of peace.

"God grant it;" cried Bernardin de Saint Pierre. "God grants all to the firm will and the determined purpose," was the answer,

Some expressive pauses made breaks in a conversation which was less an interchange of words than of thoughts. Vainly did Bernardin several times attempt to introduce the subject of the campaigns in Italy, as an opening for some complimentary tribute to the courage, the presence of mind, the clear mental vision, the resolute powers of action, of his visitor; the latter as constantly evaded the subject, for with all the exquisite tact which was his great characteristic through life, he guessed the philosopher could accord but a reluctant homage to any triumph of the sword, even when not drawn in the service of ambition. He felt, too, that the warrior should be like a fortress, from whose strong, silent walls, is heard only in time of war the booming of its artillery.

Thus, therefore, ran the dialogue :

'Italy is on fire with your name."

"I have founded chairs of philosophy, of history, and oratory, in most of the conquered cities." "Montenotte will ever be one of the most glorion monuments of French valour."

"I have pensioned all the savants of Bologas, Florence, and Milan."

"You have rivalled the renown of the immorts! generals of antiquity."

"Whenever a city was taken, my first care was to command public monuments and private property to be respected, and to prohibit under pain of death al outrage to women, and before I allowed guards to be planted at my own door, I took care sentinels were at the gates of every church and hospital."

"How you must have longed for repose, were it only to indulge the bright dreams of the future.”

"The actual and the real for me. I like best to shut myself up in my quarters to pursue my favourite studies of mathematics and history."

Struck with enthusiastic admiration of such simplicity, and such wise moderation, Bernardin ceased any longer to pay forced compliments to the military prowess with which he had no sympathy, and now poured out his whole heart in homage to his nobla qualities as a legislator and as a man. Could he de less than read to him some few pages of his "Harmonies "the winding-up of his "Harmonies of Nature." To one of the three brothers worthy to comprehend the sublimity of the science of Heavea, he had shown the stars; to another, tender as Rousseau, the flowers; and now the graver pages of his book to a third-graver, wiser than either as wise as Marcus Aurelius; " nay, wiser," said Bernardin, "for I am sure he never would consent to be made emperor."

And now, who were these three officers of the Italian army?

The first officer, who wooed the stars and the dewy morning, and who had no ambition, was Louis Buonaparte, afterwards King of Holland.

The second officer, who delighted in flowers, and in floral dials, was Joseph Buonaparte, afterwards King of the two Spains and of the Indies.

The third officer-the brother of the two otherswho was a republican, a philosopher, a philanthropist, a lover of peace, and who had no ambition, was Napoleon Buonaparte, afterwards Emperor of the French, and King of Italy!

What an eclogue for Bernardin de Saint Pierre,— Two Kings and an Emperor !

HOW EVERY WORKING MAN MAY SAVE TWENTY SHILLINGS A YEAR.

If we weigh a pound of bread as it comes out of the oven, and weigh it again at the expiration of twentyfour hours, we shall find that it has then lost nearly two ounces (the difference being fractional). This is especially the case with wheaten bread, prepared with yeast or any (legitimate) chemical ferment; and this is the first considerable saving, by purchasing bread one day old, as it is to be obtained in almost every shop. But, besides this collapse of the bread caused by the mere mechanical process of evaporation, time produces in this alimentary substance another, a chemical change. Several of its compounds (starch, gluten, &c.) solidify by time and exposure to air, which can be easily ascertained by twisting a piece of fresh bread between our fingers, when a ball almost resembling paste will be obtained. Performing the same operation after the bread has been baked twenty-four hours, it will not yield to the former extent; it is therefore obvious, that by keep

ing bread one day, it becomes mechanically and chemically another substance, more compact, freed from moisture (water), and its chemical ingredients more collapsed and coagulated; in fact, it may be said that bread, after being taken out of the oven, and kept for some adequate time, undergoes another supplementary chemical process which, if eaten warm or new, is performed in the stomach; thence, it is a well-known fact, that such bread is unwholesome. Concluding with economical inducements for eating stale bread, we cite the fact, that an adult labouring person will be quite capable of consuming one pound of new bread for breakfast, whereas, if only kept twenty-four hours, ten to twelve ounces will be the utmost one can possibly use. Children especially are attracted by the soft, spongy nature of new bread towards eating more than they really want. If bread twenty-four hours old be toasted, the chemical process of a further condensation and coagulation of the chemical ingredients will take place: thence toasted bread is more nourishing and more wholesome than when eaten in its natural state. Some people avoid using stale bread because, if not consumed in proper time, it gets too stale, and useless; this can be easily prevented by keeping bread (after it has been baked twenty-four hours) in some thick cloth, a serviette, napkin, or the like; this will prevent any undue further evaporation of moisture; in fact, stale bread may be revived, so to say, by wrapping it in a wet cloth. Bread too stale has the opposite defects of new bread: the process of evaporation and condensation of its chemical ingredients has proceeded too far; but it has not, after all, lost any of its nourishing properties. There is no necessity in any household for wasting even the stalest bread, because, if soaked in hot water, milk, or broth, it will expand again, like dried fish or meat, and be equally savoury and nutritious as heretofore. By calculating all these savings, effected one way or other, we are not saying too much, that every adult working person can save, in 365 days, the sum of twenty shillings (ten gilders), which, taken in the aggregate of several years makes a sum by which many of us "sink or rise in the world.--From the Austrian National Almanack.

ing well from the face, and meeting in that delicate bracket which seems lightly to sustain the weight both of nose and forehead, yet also open and instinct with life, for the breath of man resides in them. Any nose that stands out well, be it large or small, is compatible with beauty, because strictly human; but the nose couchant, as approaching the animal, must be inadmissible in the heraldry of good looks. Yet, however assuming and capricious the nose, it is the mouth which is the real ruler. Every portrait-painter knows that till this is safe the closest likeness of the other features goes for nothing; it is the lawgiver to the countenance in every sense, for the lips, even when silent, overflow with the fulness of the heart. As to form, a small mouth is pronounced a beauty, and a large one a blemish; but this rule is often reversed. The truth is, that in neither the small nor the large size lies the true human character of the mouth; this consists chiefly in the shape of the line formed by the junction of the lips, a line in which the human autograph is unmistakeably written. The mouth of an animal has but few actions; it opens and shuts merely in the quality of a trap-door, through which grist is supplied to the mill within; this done, the door closes, and looks exactly what it is—a dumb thing. But the lips of man are emphatically the portals of speech-(the Greeks designated him as sound-dividing animal ")—and not the speech of the voice only, but that of the heart before it becomes articulate. Their delicate springs are set in movement by every passing thought; they partake of every emotion, of every mood; they tell the tale, even though it contradict the very words they utter. The lips of the young especially are seldom quiet, or it bespeaks a self-restraint beyond their years if they For an action thus incessant that perfect ease of movement was necessary which the innumerable acting and counteracting muscles round the mouth have provided; and not ease alone, but the appearance of ease, and therefore the waving speaking-play of the line at which the lips fall together, or rest instantaneously apart, corresponds exquisitely in idea with the frequency of the movement, and is in itself a real attribute of humanity.-Quarterly Review, Dec. 1851.

are.

the

PHYSIOGNOMY OF NOSE AND MOUTH,

The nose is a member of very independent habits, and trifles, often selfishly, with the countenance in which it plays so conspicuous a part. No feature seems to change its mind so often in the course of formation, or surprises us more with its final resolve; thus frequently a highly composite style is met with, which defies all order and precedent. But these eccentricities may account in some measure for a peculiar fact which meets us in the natural history of no other feature: we allude to our great sensitiveness and reserve on the subject of our noses.

The nose

Nor

is the feature where all the mauvaise honte of our nature seems embodied; its plainness on our faces amounts to a proverb, and yet we prefer to ignore its very existence. We care not what it is like, so that it do but elude observation, and can even better bear to hear our eyes consigned to everlasting perdition than the slightest personal allusion to our nose. do its waywardnesses and irregularities interfere much with our modern ideas of beauty; there are pretty and good faces with every variety of snub, hook, bulb, boss, and potatoe. A beautiful nose is too rare an object for our pleasure in a face to be dependent upon it, nay, when it does occur, it is caviare to the million. Without pretending to the symmetry of the antique, it may be said that a nose should be long and straight, with the nostrils small and fine, spring

FEMALE BEAUTY.

Power, the celebrated sculptor, in a letter to a friend says, with satirical humour, of his favourite work, “Eve is an old-fashioned body, and not so well formed and attractive as are her granddaughters, at least some of them. She wears her hair in a natural and most primitive manner, drawn back from the temples, and hanging loose behind, thus exposing those very ugly features in woman. Her waist is quite too large for our modern notions of beauty, and her feet, they are so very broad and large! And did ever one see such long toes! they have never been wedged into form by the nice and pretty little shoes worn by her lovely descendants. But Eve is very stiff and unyielding in her disposition; she will not allow her waist to be reduced by bandaging, because she is far more comfortable as she is, and besides, she has some regard for her health, which might suffer from such restraints upon her lungs, heart, liver, &c. &c. I could never prevail upon her to wear modern shoes, for she dreads corns, which she says are neither convenient nor ornamental. But some allowance ought to be made for these crude notions of hers, founded as they are in the prejudices and absurdities of primitive days. Taking all these things into consideration, I think it best that she should not be exhibited, as it might subject me to censure and severe criticism, and these, too, without pecuniary reward.”

[At the earnest request of many readers, whose means are not equal to the price of Hood's published works, we extract the following beautiful poem from Moxon's admirable and cheap edition.]

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

BY THOMAS HOOD.

"Drown'd! drown'd!"Hamlet.

One more Unfortunate,

Weary of breath,

Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

Who was her father?
Who was her mother?

Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one

Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!

Oh! it was pitiful,
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly,

Feelings had changed:

Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence;

Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light
From window and casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from Life's history,
Glad to Death's mystery,
Swift to be hurled-
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly,
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran,-
Over the brink of it,
Picture it-think of it,
Dissolute Man!
Lave in it, drink of it,
Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care,
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair:

Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,
Decently,-kindly,-
Smooth, and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!

Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fix'd on futurity.

Perishing gloomily,
Spurred by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,
Into her rest.-

Cross her hands humbly
As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,
Her evil behaviour,

And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour!

A HYMN TO OLD AGE WANTED!

Many a poet has sung laments over departed youth; did any ever sing, or chant-for it would be like a psalm-the peace, the joy, the comfort of growing old; of knowing passions dead, temptations conquered, experience won, individual interests become universal, and vain fantastic hopes merged into sublime strong-builded faith,-faith which makes of death its foundation-stone, and has for its summit Eternity? The "Hymn to Old Age" would be one not unworthy of a great poet; who will write it ?-The Head of the Family.

DIAMOND DUST.

THE knowledge of what is and of what ought to be are the two opposed wings upon which the poetic mind rises, and the breadth of pinion at each side must be equal if the flight is to be sustained.

No condition so low but may have hopes, and none so high but may have fears.

A PROMISE is a just debt which should always be paid, for honour and honesty are its security.

ANGER wishes that all mankind had only one neck; love, that it had only one heart; grief, two tearglands; and pride, two bent knees.

THE mind is weak when it has once given way; it is long before a principle restored can become as firm as one that has never been moved.

THE less wit a man has the less he knows he wants it.

THERE is a large and fertile space in every life, in which might be planted the oaks and fruit-trees of enlightened principle and virtuous habit, which, growing up, would yield to old age an enjoyment, a glory, and a shade.

AN Irishman fights before he reasons, a Scotchman reasons before he fights, an Englishman is not particular as to the order of precedence, but will do either to accommodate his customers.

It is only hatred, not love, that requires explanation.

AGE is surrounded by a cold mist, in which the flame of hope will hardly burn.

ONE of the strongest characteristics of genius is the power of lighting its own fire.

CONFRONT improper conduct, not by retaliation but by example.

To forgive and forget is something of a difficulty, but to forget and forgive is the easiest thing in the world.

LITTLE disputes before marriage are great ones after it; as northerly winds, which are warm in summer, blow keen and cold in winter.

A TRUE poet, a man in whose heart resides some effluence of wisdom, some love of the Eternal Melodies,' is the most precious gift that can be bestowed on a generation.

REMORSE is the poison of life, and repentance its

cure.

THE consciousness that we have, by our own misconduct, brought our sorrows upon ourselves, is an immense aggravation to their misery.

Now ready, price 28. each, postage free,

TWO NEW SONGS, Words and Music by ELIZA COOK, "THE RING AND THE KIRK,"

AND

"THE WEDDING BELLS."

Also, the SECOND EDITION, price 28., postage free,
DEAD LEAVES,

A BALLAD; the Words and Music by ELIZA COOK. Published by Charles Cook, at the Office of the Journal, and may be had of all Music-sellers.

Printed by Cox (Brothers) & WYMAN, 74-75, Great Queen Street, London; and published by CHARLES COOK, at the Office of the Journal, 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street.

THE BREED OF ENGLISHMEN.

Apropos of Mr. Worsaae's book on "The Danes in England."

"BRED in the bone," is a common enough saying among us. We all believe in the influence of what is "bred" in men. The son "takes after" the father, and is but a "chip of the old block." As with individuals, so with peoples. Character is hereditary among nations, as it is among families. Races have, indeed, a history of the most interesting kind. Into whatever nations they may be grouped, their essential characteristics remain the same. Thus, the Frenchmen of this day are almost identical in character with the inhabitants of ancient Gaul, as described by Cæsar some half a century before Christ. The Germans are but modernized Teutons. The Jew is still a Jew, though no longer a member of a great nation: he is only one of a race. The modern Irishman is but a copy of the Irishman of a thousand years ago. It is the same with all races: their peculiar qualities are "bred in the bone."

What of the modern English? Of what race are they? It is difficult to tell. They are of anything but "pure" blood. Indeed, all the races of Europe have gone towards forming the human mixture called "Englishman." In his veins run the blood of the Celt, the Roman, the Saxon, the Dane, and the Norman. As De Foe said, there is no such thing as

a

"true-born Englishman." From all that can be learnt from history, the race which in olden times held possession of England was purely Celtic. They could not hold their country against the Romans, who conquered it, and occupied it for many centuries. But the Roman legions were recalled, doubtless leaving settlers and offspring behind them, and the country was again left to the ascendancy of the native race, the ancient Britons.

Then came the Saxons, swarming over from Jutland, from Saxony, and from the territories about the Elbe, in North Germany. They came to help the native Britons to beat back the wild Scots and Picts, who swarmed across the border. But the Saxons liked the goodly land of England; and when they had beaten back the Scots, they set themselves down there as its inhabitants and owners. Many a stout battle was fought for the ownership of England. But

[PRICE 14d.

fresh swarms from Jutland kept pouring into the country. The ancient Britons were beaten; they were dispossessed of the rich lands lying along the southern and eastern coasts, and of the fertile midland counties; they were pushed back, as it were, into the mountainous, sterile, and comparatively inaccessible parts of the country,-into Devon and Cornwall, into Wales, and the counties thereabout, and into Cumberland and Westmoreland, and the hilly parts of Lancashire and West Yorkshire.

So the Anglo-Saxons settled down in the country as the English people, planting their Teutonic institutions, which contained in them the germs of so much of our English constitutional liberties. They were a hard-working, plodding people, these AngloSaxons; fond of rude comfort; eating well and drinking well; on the whole, heavy livers. A solid, phlegmatic race, shrewd, practical, and sagacious; not quarrelsome, but ready enough to stand up for their "rights," when they were assailed. Thus was the Saxon element duly infused into the English nation.

But the admixture was not yet complete. Another important element was wanting. Neither the Celts nor the Saxons were good seamen,-they never went out of sight of land if they could avoid it. If they went to sea at all, they crept along the shores. To this day, the Celts have an aversion to a seafaring life. Look at the unfished coasts of Ireland, for instance. Few of them are either fishermen or sailors. But around the sea-beaten coasts of Denmark and Norway dwelt a thoroughly maritime race,-fond of the sea, who were never more at home than when on the deep,-who loved the ocean, and laughed at its storms; laying their hand upon its mane, and breasting it as a steed that knew its rider. in good time, came the Danes and Norwegians, swarming over upon the English coasts in their warships. The Danes, for full three centuries, were the terror of England; indeed they swarmed all along the coasts of the North Seas. They invaded France, and took possession of Normandy; they invaded Scotland and Ireland; planted colonies in Iceland, the Faroe Isles; passed over to Greenland, and discovered America. In fact, they were the British of those days; and it was their seafaring spirit, their maritime daring, which has made Britain what it is.

So,

Whole Danish and Norwegian fleets, under their

bold Vikings, roved the seas for glory, for gain, for plunder. The earth was lawless then, and power and dominion were the lot of the strongest. These rovers were nursed in hardships and dangers; the severe cold of the north hardened their sturdy frames, steeled their courage, and braced them for war. The opening of the famous Danish and Norwegian national song bespeaks the temper of that old race; it begins, "King Christian stood by the high mast, enveloped in mist and smoke." All the early heroes of both these nations were seamen ; and we are not prouder of our Nelson than they were of their Niels Juel.

The Danes and Norwegians were devoted Pagans in those days, and bore deadly hatred towards those branches of their race, the Teutons of Germany and of England,-who had been converted to Christianity. They shed the blood of priests with pleasure ; plundered tombs and altars of their gold and precious stones; and littered their horses in the chapels of palaces. They either killed their prisoners on the spot, or dragged them into slavery. When they first appeared on the coasts of England, they came in small fleets, anchored their ships at the mouths of rivers, or lay under the islands about the coasts. Or they would sail up the rivers,-up the Thames, the Ouse, or the Trent, -or up the Tees, or the Tyne,— suddenly land, mount on horseback, scour and plunder the country, burning and slaughtering as they went, and then back to their ships again, and off for Norway. When they had thus wasted some Christian territory, they would chaunt in derision, "We have sung the mass of lances; it began at dawn of morning and lasted till night." Then they launched on the deep, singing, "The force of the storm is a help to our rowers' arms; the hurricane is in our service; it carries us the way we would go."

In course of time, these scourges of the English coasts began to build intrenched camps and military posts, to cover their return; and the next spring saw larger fleets than before,-commanded by valorous chiefs and sons of kings, making for the English havens, landing there, and repeating the old game; but now determined to settle down as colonists in this goodly land. And they made good their footing.

Thus it happened that the Saxons were pushed towards the south and the west of England, as the ancient British had been before them. The Danes were thickest along the coast. They almost peopled Northumberland and Yorkshire, as the dialect of the people, the features of the inhabitants, and the names of places to this day, serve to prove. They also spread southwards, and extended themselves inland as far as Derby and Chester. As they extended themselves southward, however, they came into violent collision with the Anglo-Saxon population, which chiefly inhabited the rich southern counties. The Great Alfred, King of the West Saxons, after being more than once routed by the Danes, at length rallied his subjects, and overcame them in battle. Then a truce was formed; and it was agreed that Watling-street,—the old Roman road extending through England from north to south,should be the boundary between the hostile races. But the truce was a hollow one. The war again broke out, and the Danes were defeated; until fresh hordes of their countrymen from Norway and

Denmark, under the terrible King Sweyn, landed in England, overran the country from York to Southampton and Bristol; and Sweyn assumed the title of King of England. He was succeeded by Canute, who called himself "Emperor of the North,"-one of the boldest and most successful of the old sea-kings of Denmark. At his death, the disputed succession of his sons caused the old feuds to break out, and after half a century of more wars, the Anglo-Saxon rule was again established, only to be overturned by the Normans under "William the Conqueror," these Normans being only another branch of the same warlike breed of Northmen from the rugged coasts of Norway and Denmark.

But although the Danish rule was at an end, a large infusion of Danish blood into the English nation had been effected by means of these repeated invasions from Denmark and Norway. They settled down on the land as tillers of the soil, and planted themselves along the seacoasts as fishermen. They preferred living in towns, especially in the seaports; from whence commercial enterprise soon extended over the whole world. The old Danish breed lives among us yet; the Danish valour, daring, fearlessness of death, contempt for danger. The old Dane " crops out" from time to time in English history. Admiral Nelson was a pure Dane in breed, in daring, and in name. Nielsen is a name in Denmark to this day. Cook, Drake, Blake, Pellew, and such like, are only old Danes come alive again. The Napiers are all full of the same old spirit. Those districts in England where the Danes planted themselves the most thickly, are precisely those which furnish the chief supply of seamen to the British fleet. Northumberland and Durham, with the towns along their coasts,-where the Danish corls, or earls, for so many centuries held undisputed sway over men of their own race,-are the chief nurseries of sailors now.

common

We have been led into these remarks through reading an interesting book just published on the subject, by Mr. Worsaae of Copenhagen.* He seeks up the remains of his countrymen, and brings them to light in many places where we would scarcely expect to find them. The names of most of our headlands and bays, and of many of our towns, are Danish; such as Sheerness, Dungeness, and all words ending in ness, from naes, the Danish word for promontory. The fleets of the Danish Vikings often sailed up the Thames, plundering the country on both banks, and at length they occupied the city itself. As they became Christianized, they built churches there, and dedicated them to their favourite saints. Hence, we have the churches of St. Clements Danes, St. Olaf (now Olave), St Magnus, and others, favourites with the Danes and Norwegians.+ To the Danes, also, we owe our Hustings, the highest tribunal in the city. Long, indeed, after the Danish rule had been overturned in England, the number of Danes in London was said to be so great, that they could at times even turn the scales at the election of a king.

"We may truly assert," says Mr. Worsaae, "that the Scandinavian spirit is still clearly to be discerned, not merely in separate districts, but throughout England. The love of the English for bold adventures, especially at sea; their apparent coolness during the most violent emotions; and their proud

* An Account of the Danes and Norwegians in England, Scotland, and Ireland. By J. J. A. Worsaae. Murray: 1852. + The famous Tooley Street, in Southwark, where the three tailors drew up their petition, beginning, "We, the People of England," is but a corruption of St. Olave's Street,which was the original name.