what will be the comparison at the end of the next half century, and what will be the burden of the national debt? I will add one more instance of change. A retired hackney coachman, giving an account of his life to a friend of mine, stated that his principal gains had been derived from cruising at late hours in particular quarters of the town to pick up drunken gentlemen. If they were able to tell their address, he conveyed them straight home; if not, he carried them to certain taverns, where the custom was to secure their property, and put them to bed. In the morning he called to take them home, and was generally handsomely rewarded. He said there were other coachmen who pursued the same course, and they all considered it their policy to be strictly honest. The bell at Kensington, the glories of Tavistock Street, and the coachmen's cruises, may all be referred back a little more than seventy years, and afford indisputable and consoling proofs of improvement in security, wealth, and temperance. I like to look at the bright side of things. ITALY. WRITTEN AT VIENNA, IN 1822. "Fair Italy! Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all art yields, and nature can decree.”—Lord Byron. year. I have seen Italy from Pæstum to Roveredo during the most brilliant season of a very brilliant I have seen it and enjoyed it, by sunlight and by moonlight, each hour in the twenty-four, from the dawn of spring to the ripeness of autumn. I have watched the sun set upon "the relics of almighty Rome," and rise upon the bays of Naples and Mola di Gaeta. Floating in a gondola, with the setting-sun behind me, I have seen the full moon illuminating the towers of Venice, and I have wandered in the Coliseum by her light. I have seen her at Florence shining through the most brilliant foliage, with myriads of fire-flies glittering beneath. I have watched her silvery light streaming over the waves in the bay of Naples, before purpled by the setting sun. I have seen vegetation bud and come to maturity, unchecked by frost or blight, and uniting the freshness of spring with the fulness of summer. I have inhaled the powerful odour of the orange flower and the delicate fragrance of the vine, listening to the song of the nightingale on a lovely evening by the bay of Naples. I have seen the vast remains of Adrian's villa, rising in broken masses from amidst the ilex, the pine, the cypress, and the olive, mingled with the blossoms of the peach, the cherry, and the most beautiful shrubs-all canopied by a deep and cloudless azure-crumbling arches, amid sombre evergreens and the gayest garlands of crimson and white-such a contrast and such a harmony! I have ridden a hundred and fifty miles in vigorous health, between Nice and Genoa, with the smooth and beauteous Mediterranean on my right, and the snow-covered, rugged Alps on my left-through olive and lemon groves, with towns and villages, convents, bridges, rocks, and dells, all romantically blended together. I have sailed on the magnificent gulf of Genoa, and the enchanting bays of Naples, Mola di Gaeta and Baiæ. I have seen the lovely gulfs of Villa Franca and la Spezia, and the falls of Terni and Tivoli. I have breathed the gales of spring on the banks of the Tiber, and in the delicious environs of Naples. I have traversed the Lago Maggiore and the lake of Como, and have bathed in the soft and limpid waters of the Lago di Garda. I have gathered the most delicious fruits fresh from the tree, and have passed during the vintage through loaded vines, hanging on trellises or in festoons, for miles and miles. I have exercised during the freshness of morning, enjoyed at my ease the tranquil glow of the mid-day sun, and sat uncovered at midnight beneath the starry azure-feeling simple existence delicious enjoyment. I have visited St. Peter's again and again; I have seen it illuminated in the interior and on the exterior. I have seen the Apollo and the Laocoon by torch-light, and have passed hours before the Venus de' Medici and the master-pieces of Raphael. I have stood upon the Alban Hill, and looked along the Appian Way, a ruin itself, bordered on each side for fifteen miles with ruined tombs. I have wandered many an evening, on foot and on horseback, over the inspiring solitudes of the Campagna di Roma. * Fair Italy! Even in thy desert, what is like to thee? With an immaculate charm, which cannot be defac'd. I have visited the ruins of Pæstum, of Tusculum, and of Pompeii. I have leaned over the crater of Vesuvius in darkness, listening to the fiery storm below. I have explored the stupendous remains of the Palace of the Cæsars, and of the Baths of Titus and Caracalla. I have viewed from Cecilia Metella's tomb the three ranges of aqueducts magnificently stretching across the plain, and once connecting the walls of the "Eternal City" with the distant mountains—now standing in solitary grandeur, broken, and overgrown with ivy and wild flowers. I have descended into the tombs of the ancient Romans, visited the dungeons of their captives, and followed the track of their triumphs. I have wandered over the scenes which Virgil has sung, stood where Cicero harangued, and walked on the very road which Horace loved to frequent. LONDON: IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND. THE ORIGINAL, BY THOMAS WALKER, M. A. TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, BARRISTER AT LAW, AND ONE OF THE POLICE MAGISTRATES OF THE METROPOLIS. PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY AT 12 O'CLOCK, BY H. RENSHAW, 356, STRAND, NEARLY OPPOSITE WELLINGTON STREET. No. IV.] WEDNESDAY, JUNE 10, 1835. [PRICE 3d. PAROCHIAL GOVERNMENT. (Continued.) In the article on government in my second number I have said that the only machinery by which the greatest moral improvement can be effected, must consist of local governments, so ordered that those who are most successful in the honourable conduct of their own concerns would be selected, and being selected, would be willing to give up time sufficient to superintend the affairs of their respective communities. By the most successful in the honourable conduct of their own concerns,—I mean those who by prudence, sagacity, integrity, and industry, attain independence at least, or being born to fortune, exhibit those moral qualities which make fortune a blessing to themselves and to those around them. Now in order to secure the selection of such persons, it is necessary that those who are to select, should have uppermost, or indeed solely in their minds, their own individual well-being; and that being the case, it must follow that they would choose the best qualified to serve their respective communities. This E is a principle which, though probably in some degree anciently in force, has long since fallen into neglect; and the relation between the electors and the elected, in parishes as elsewhere, is now too slight to make the electors sufficiently careful in their choice. For instance, in any parish it is ordinarily matter of indifference, or nearly so, to the parishioners at large, whom they elect to govern them; and if they do interest themselves, it is only on some extraordinary occasion, or for some party purpose; but indifference is the rule. The reason is twofold ;-first because the powers of government are much too small;—and secondly, because the elections are by too large masses. The remedy is also twofold;-first, to divide every parish, if not already small enough, into such districts, that one individual, to be elected by each district, might be perfectly cognizant of its interests;—and secondly, to give him such powers, that those interests would be materially promoted or injured according to his qualifications for using the powers intrusted to him. Then each elector would have the strongest possible inducement to make a judicious choice;-first, because he would be one of a number sufficiently limited to make his vote of decided consequence ;—and secondly, because he would personally and continually feel the good or ill effect of his selection. Now, the fittest persons to preside over the several districts would be also the fittest to be the governors of the whole parish, and therefore the self-interested feeling, which is the strongest and most constant, of each elector, would be made subservient to the interest of his community. This is what I mean, in my former article, by the words " As the electors would come much into immediate contact with the objects of their choice, they would most likely—at least after a little experience—be more careful and discriminating than electors under other circumstances usually are. Mob-flatterers, adventurers, and jobbers would be too nearly in view long to escape detection." Under such a system these characters must either mend their |