summer, as I waited for the diligence, I found Anthony at his usual post, exerting his lungs, and bawling incessantly his accustomed form of petition-"For the love of heaven bestow your alms on a poor man -Messieurs, Mesdaines, the smallest trifle will be gratefully received."

While Anthony was in this manner pouring his exclamations into the ears of every one who came within the reach of his voice, a middle-aged man of respectable appearance joined me. He had a pleasant expression of countenance, was very well dressed, and it might be seen at a glance that he was a man in good circumstances. Here was a fit subject for the beggar, who quickly made his advances, proclaiming in a loud voice his poverty, and soliciting relief. "You need not be a beggar unless you please," replied the gentleman, " when you can have an income of ten thousand crowns." "You are pleased to jest, sir," answered Anthony. "By no means, said the gentleman; "I never was more serious in my life. Listen to me, my friend. You perceive that I am well dressed, and I tell you that I have every thing that a reasonable man need desire." "Ah! sir, you are a fortunate man." "Well, but, my friend, I would not have been so if I had sat and begged as you are doing." "I have no other means of gaining my living." "Are you lame?" "No, sir." "You are not blind, or deaf, and you certainly are not dumb, as every passer-by can testify. Listen: I shall tell you my history in a few words. Some fifteen or twenty years ago, I was a beggar like yourself; at length I began to see that it was very disgraceful to live on the bounty of others, and I resolved to abandon this shameful way of life as soon as I possibly could. I quitted Paris-I went into the provinces-I begged for old rags. The people were very kind to me, and in a short time I returned to Paris with a tolerably large bundle of rags of every description. I carried them to a paper-maker, who bought them at a fair price. I went on collecting, until to my great joy my finances enabled me to purchase rags, so that I was no longer forced to beg for them. At length, by diligence and industry, I became rich enough to buy an ass with two panniers, and this saved me both time and labor. My business increased, the paper-makers found that I dealt honestly by them; I never palmed off bad rags for good ones; I prospered, and see the result-in place of being a poor despised beggar, I have ten thou

rag

sand crowns a year, and two houses in one of the best streets in Paris. If, then, my friend, you can do no better, begin as a merchant, and here," he continued, "is a crown to set you up in your new trade; it is more than I had; and in addition, please to take notice, that if I find you here another Sunday, I shall report you to the police." On saying this, the old gentleman walked off, leaving Anthony and myself in a state of great surprise. Indeed, the beggar had been so much interested in the history he heard, that he stood with open mouth and eyes in mute astonishment, nor had he even power to solicit alms from two well-dressed ladies who passed at that moment. I could not help being struck with the story, but] had no time to comment on it, as the di gence had arrived, in which I seated myself and pursued my way. From that period lost sight of the beggar; whether the feal of the police, or the hopes of gaining tel thousand crowns a-year, had wrought thị change, I was not aware; it is sufficieni to say, that from that day forward he wa never seen at the Barrier.

Many years after, it happened that busi ness called me to Tours. In strolling thro the city I stepped into a bookseller's sho to purchase a new work that had mad some noise. I found there four young mer all busily employed, while a stout good looking man was giving them orders, as h walked up and down with an air of impor ance. I thought I had seen the face ofth bookseller before, but where, I couldn for the moment tell, until he spoke, an then I discovered him to be my old frien Anthony. The recognition was mutua he grasped my hand, and led me throug his shop into a well-furnished parlor: lavished every kindness on me; and, final gave me his history from the time we p

ted at the Barrier. With the crown of stranger he began, as he had advised hi to collect rags; he made money; beca the partner of a paper manufacturer; m ried his daughter; in short, his hopes w fulfilled; his ambition gratified, and could now count his income at ten thous crowns. He prayed every day for blessin on his benefactor, who had been the me of raising him from the degraded condit of a common beggar. Anthony is so c vinced of the evil and sin of idleness, of subsisting on the alms of others, th while liberal and kind to those who are v ing to work, no entreaties, no supplicati ever prevailed on him to bestow a si sous on those who would not help themsel

1008, 12

lace

the se

difice.

uite

go out much before eight o'clock, in the longest days, you will find most of the shutters closed, except these of the gin palaces, and their more humble auxiliaries. Between eight and nine, you will find access to most of the shops and counting rooms, and from that time to a late hour in the evening. This habit of our good kinsmen, who live so much nearer sunrise' than we do, is not at all in their favor. But the shop keepers there have one custom, which might be adopted elsewhere, with great advantage. They almost always sell her at fixed and invariable prices. In their shop windows, many of which are very large, emre you will see a great variety of articles, with the prices attached to them, for your inspection. If you step in, you will find every upe thing marked at the price which you must agpay for it, if you take it. This is the way top of doing business, not only in London, but camin Liverpool and Birmingham, and everywhere, I believe, throughout the kingdom. It is useless to spend your time and breath Win asking, whether the article cannot be sad afforded a little cheaper. There it is, for so much, and you may take it or leave it, just as you please. Now might not the same system of trade be adopted, to the great advantage both of buyers and sellers, in this country? I am aware that it is Cacted on already, by some of our thriving shop keepers; but in general, when you inquire what is the price of an article, you are not certain that it is put as low as it can be afforded, at a fair profit. If I am *not mistaken, many of our respectable merchants feel constrained by the prevailing custom of chaffering, and by the pressure of competition, to act upon a system, which they dislike. Were we,' say they, 'always to name the lowest price, however cheap and favorable it might be to the buyer, not a few of our customers would leave us at once, because so many of our neighbors permit themselves to be beat down, taking good care to begin so high, that they can well afford it.' All this is doubtless true, and this long talk about a penny, or two, may perhaps sharpen the wits of the parties a little; but sure I am, that it costs a great deal more time and trouble, and conscience, than it is worth. When I call at a shop, and the clerk tells me, without preamble or palaver, what I can have a piece of muslin, or broadcloth for, and lets me go away and inquire elsewhere, without offering it any lower, I take it for granted, that he meant to put it at a fair price, or at least as low as he could afford it. But

If

the moment he falls five, or ten cents in a yard, I suspect he is still too high, and ought to fall at least as much more. there could be a general agreement among our merchants on this subject, such as virtually exists in London, Liverpool, and other parts of England, all parties, I am confident, would be better off; and I suspect, that as it is, those who approach nearest to the up and down method, succeed best in the long run.

Every body who goes to London, must, as a matter of course, visit the Tower. It stands on the north bank of the Thames, not far from a mile and a half below London bridge. Before the invention of fire-arms, it might have sustained something of a siege, and it is now a strong prison; but there is nothing very commanding in its site, or imposing in its external appearance. I went one morning to see the curiosities of the Tower, such as cannon of great length and curious workmanship-the axe with which Anne Boleyn was beheaded -a hall hung round with ancient Saxon and English weapons and armor-another great hall filled with the spoils of the Spanish Armada-another containing a long line of equestrian statues of the kings of England, as large as life, and in the costume and armor of the times in which they lived - and still another immense hall, three hundred feet in length, in which they show you two hundred thousand stand of arms, of fine workmanship, and kept in the most perfect order.

When you have looked at these, you may, if you chuse, by paying a couple of shillings more, feast your eyes for a few moments upon the regalia of this mighty empire, consisting of crowns, and jewels, and scepters, and a golden service of plate, for the holy sacraments of baptism and the Lord's supper. Formerly they were deposited in one of the upper rooms of the Tower; but having narrowly escaped an inglorious abduction, some few years ago, they have been removed for safe keeping to a subterranean apartment, where the light of day never visits them. As your republicanism, however staunch it may be, is not likely just then to eschew the royal penetralia, you follow your Waterloo, or Trafalgar guide, down a flight of stone steps, and soon find yourself in front of the magnificent spectacle. By the aid of lamps, you get a very good view of the whole. Nothing there is quite so superb and extravagant, as the crown of George the Fourth. This bauble' (as Cromwell called the mace, when he expelled the long Parliament,) cost a million of pounds sterling.

In leaving the great quadrangle, and passing along in front of the tower, upon the quay, my attention was arrested by something like fifty very small brass pieces, not more than two feet in length, shaped like a howitzer, and placed in a line, a few feet apart, and having the appearance of being loaded, and ready to be discharged. It occurred to me instantly that I had often, ❘ when I was a boy, heard of the firing of the Park and Tower guns, and as this was done only on great occasions, I thought they must be very great guns, of course. Upon inquiry, I found that these squibs were to be let off at one o'clock, in honor of the King's birth-day. I do not know that a sense of the ludicrous ever came over me so powerfully as at that moment. However, I congratulated myself upon happening to be in London on the king's birthday, when I was further informed that it was not exactly and literally so, for he was born in the autumn, and not in the spring, and upon further inquiry, I ascertained that it is one of the rare prerogatives of the British monarch, to choose his own birthday, according to his own royal pleasure and convenience. This year it occurred in the month of May. Next year it may happen earlier or later, just according to the high behest of the throne. At one o'clock, I presume, the Park and Tower guns were fired, though I was not so fortunate as to hear them, and in the evening there were splendid illuminations, in St. James Square and other parts of the metropolis. Yours, &c.

NO. XVII.

WOOL WICH ARSENAL.

It was not because I delight in war,' or in looking at its terrible munitions, that I visited this immense armory, which is situated eight miles below London. I was induced to go down and spend a day there, partly by the very cordial invitation of the Rev. Thomas James, pastor of the Independent church in the place, and partly, I confess, to gratify that curiosity which one naturally feels, to see every important institution he can, in a foreign country. Woolwich is a considerable town, finely situated on the south bank of the Thames. You have a good view of it as you come up the river from Margate. The site of the arsenal, near the water's edge, is low and flat; but after you have receded a few hundred yards, the ground swells into a

beautiful and commanding eminence, upon the front of which the town is mostly built. From this elevation, you behold the river, alive with commerce and pleasure, as far as the eye can follow its windings; and beyond it, stretch away the rich and verdant meadows, pastures, and wheat fields, till they meet the distant horizon.

As you enter Woolwich, by the London road, though the town is not fortified, every thing you see and hear, reminds you, that you are coming to one of the favorite seats of Mars. Long rows of cannon are planted perpendicular, instead of wooden posts, by the side walks, in all the streets. Centinels are pacing slowly backwards and forwards before the public buildings. Over them the British ensign flutters proudly in the breeze. The sound of the drum and the bugle begins to be heard. Small detachments of recruits are seen moving in various directions; and the gleaming of polished steel, like the flashes of sun-light through the rents of a thunder cloud, dazzle the eye.

A glance at the main arsenal, from the heights on which the barracks stand, shows you that it is an immense establishment; but so much of it is concealed by the high wall around it, that you can form no adequate conception what a fearful magazine of human slaughter it is, till you are admit-J ted by the proper officer within the enclosure. The first few moments after you pass the gate, are moments of utter astonishment. You had read of the vast parks of artillery in the wars of Bonaparte, and as Woolwich is the principal British arsenal for land service, you had expected to see several hundred, or, possibly, some two or three thousand pieces of cannon, large and small, in the main yard. But instead of this, you behold acres of ground, covered with field pieces, and howitzers, and mortars, lying in rows side by side, as near to each other as they can be placed, with just room enough between the rows for one man to walk, in taking care of them. I shuddered as I passed along, and thought, how all these open-mouthed instruments of death might, and probably would, be employed; and coming up to a small train of fine brass pieces, which were taken at the battle of Waterloo, I asked an officer of rank, who was standing by, how many cannon there were in this arsenal. Twenty-seven thou sand,' he replied coolly. So ignorant was I, in these matters, that I had hardly supposed there were so many in the whole British empire. Yet here they were before my eyes-twenty-seven thousand pieces of