ing to say to one "who had so disgraced the family | and had made such a fool of himself"; indeed, beyond the tie of blood there was no affinity between the brothers. Their ideas and tastes, pursuits and society, were not only different, but entirely opposite; and the strong preference shown to John by both parents would alone have precluded much intimacy between the brothers; for even in carly days, he, presuming on their indulgence, was overbearing and insulting to William. Thus five or six years passed on, William gradually rising in his profession and becoming distinguished in the literary world, though unrecognized by the family. late him; Eastwood remained; so he went down there, arranged with his mother that she should stay there till he brought his bride home, and was on the point of leaving her there, when his lawyer appeared in person, bearing a tale of horror which he broke gradually to the unfortunate young man. "Are you aware of the law of Borough English?" said Mr. Sheepskins. "No," said the captain; "I don't know anything about law. Why?" 64 Estates," said the mellifluous lawyer, "estates which are not entailed go to the eldest son, when the possessor dies intestate." "Just so," interrupted John, "therefore here I am; it's little enough I have got." "But," continued the placid man of law, "there is another law to which some estates are subject by their title-deeds; and which law can be nullified only by a will devising it otherwise. By this law, called the law of Borough English, the estate goes to the youngest son. To this law, my dear sir, Eastwood Park with its demesnes and appurtenances is subject; consequently you see, my dear sir —” "The devil!" cried young Williams. Sheepskins, it's impossible! It can't be true! It's nonsense! I don't understand you! tell me again." Carefully did the lawyer repeat the too true tale, -how that, in looking over the title-deeds since Sir John Williams's death, he had discovered that the estate was subject to the law of Borough English, whereby (in default of a will devising otherwise) it became the property of the youngest son. There was no mistake, no eluding it. Mr. Sheepskins was the family lawyer and knew that there was no will existing. John was now quartered at Brompton and was paying his addresses to the only daughter of Owen Evans, the owner of enormous Welsh copper-mines; it was necessary, indeed, that he should secure the heiress, for he was in great difficulties, despite the liberal allowance from his father, who had moreover twice paid his debts, - Lady Williams pleading for her son and softening down the irate father, who however told John that, if ever called on again to meet his creditors, he would pay the debts out of the capital to be left to his son. But, alas! John was compelled to exceed his income: money must be spent to keep him in that position which poorer men held by their birth and gentle breeding: and a lavish expenditure did obtain for him a certain class of friends who were not too proud to sponge on, and yet laugh at, him, — and who led him into habits creditable neither to the gentleman nor soldier. So when creditors again became pressing, he had no choice but to resort to the money-lenders, with whom he found it so easy to arrange that in the course of a few years he had anticipated nearly all his expectations, including Eastwood, which, not being entailed, was considered by the Jews a bad security, and a heavy interest was put on accordingly. With all these difficulties, John found it It was now Mr. Sheepskins's turn to raise his revery necessary to secure Miss Evans and the copper-spectable hands in astonishment, for he had no more mines. He was successful in his suit, - father and idea of this than the departed knight had had. For daughter consented; and his own parents were de- once the young man was honest, and told his lawyer lighted with the proposed match: the settlements the true state of his affairs; from which it was obwere grand in prospect, neither of the old gentle-vious that, be the creditors ever so merciful, he men knowing that every penny and every inch of ground John would have left him were already promised to the money-lenders. But this mattered little to the expectant bridegroom, who was as hapunder the circumstances as any man could possibly be; for now he would be able to retrieve his fortune; or at least when the storm should burst he would be able to hide his head deep in his wife's copper-mines and disappoint his creditors by paying them their dues. Only let him secure the heiress, and then no matter how soon the discovery would Py be made. But now when all was promising so well, by a piece of ill-fortune there came a slip between his expectant lips and the anticipated cup. The wedding-day, which was fixed, was unavoidably postponed by the death of Sir John Williams, who was killed by a fall from his horse. "No matter," thought the new squire of Eastwood, "three months won't make much, and it is the Jews' interest to keep quiet till I have secured the copper-mines." But his father's death did make a difference; for he had died intestate, having destroyed his old will three months before, without having made a new one; consequently the money would be equally divided between himself and his brother. This was a serious blow, but one which did not quite annihi I am a beggar," was all John could say. "Nay, nay, you have half the money, £30,000." "Which," sighed the young man, "must all go to the Jews." would not have enough left to purchase Eastwood from his brother, supposing he would part with it. He requested the lawyer to take counsel's opinion whether or not it would be worth while to litigate the estate with his brother; and suggested at the same time to sell his commission, and then try to compound with William. "William has not a bad heart, I believe," said John, "though he is such a fool. Anyhow, Sheepskins, if you can but keep my head above water till I have secured the copper-mines, I can face the storm afterwards." Everything that could be done honorably the lawyer undertook. His first business was to inform William of the intestacy of his father, and of the equal division of the money, also of this peculiar law whereby Eastwood became his property. William's astonishment was intense; such an event had never entered the dreams of his philosophy. Suddenly, after a long struggle to keep love inside the window when poverty had entered the door, he was raised to ease and wealth. But he was not thrown off his balance; he examined very closely into the tenure and title-deeds of the estate before he would allow his fancy to recognize himself as the owner of Eastwood. When this fact was ascertained, then came the more difficult question of 66 "legality versus truth." The estate was certainly ent expenses; and was on the point of recklessly his by the law of the land; but was that the highest litigating the estate with his brother, when he relaw which he recognized? Should not his partic- ceived letters from William and from Mr. Sheepular duty to his father take precedence of the gen- skins to say that William gave him the estate, feeleral obedience due to legal intricacies? Since his ing it his duty to do so, and also that he begged his father could no longer enforce his wish by word of brother to accept the ten thousand pounds which it mouth, was it not doubly incumbent on him to at- was their father's intention to give to the eldest son. tend to that wish? So he made up his mind at This was another and most wonderful change in once to give it to John. He told Mary of the whole the aspect of affairs. John scarcely apprehended it affair, adding instantly his intention of restoring the at first; he fancied himself restored to wealth and property to his brother; but rapidly as he had told respectability," for the happiness was too great, and the tale, it was not quick enough to prevent Mary the complication of his affairs too puzzling for him from running up an air-castle in which she figured at once to understand his new position. One thing, as mistress of Eastwood. So that her husband's however, was prominent in his mind. William was oracular announcement that "of course it was either a downright fool, or he was what? The John's, just the same as if the will had been forth- alternative was at first beyond John's range of percoming," fell on her as a disappointment. She said ception; but slowly it dawned on him that his nothing just then; but a few hours afterwards, when brother was an honest man. Having once perher husband was dressing for dinner, she came in, ceived this, William's conduct acted on him as the sat down, and opened her mouth. sun does on mists and fogs; it chased away (with "William! about Eastwood; -I certainly think, the help of the severe winds of misfortune) his own with you, that you owe a duty to your father's mem-selfishness and dishonesty, and worked such a marory: that is one duty; but you owe six duties to vellous change in him that he went to William, and, your six children. Since Providence has given you grasping his hand, he said, this estate and money, have you any right to reject them?" William was at that moment putting a stud into his shirt; the stiff front was crushed as he impatiently turned round. "Mary! Is that you speaking? Is it not enough that I have been fighting all day with twenty devils suggesting such follies? Must you also turn right into wrong, true into false? How could I sit in my father's chair at Eastwood knowing his intention was that John should be there? How could you and I look each other in the face afterwards? Higher than any legal claim is the call of honor, for it is a moral law. No, no, Mary dear; I dare say you, like me, have had your dreams to-day of all the pleasant flatteries of living in wealth at Eastwood; but it cannot be. You must still manage, dear wife, to drudge on in London, independent and honest, which we should not be if we kept possession of Eastwood." So William directed Mr. Sheepskins to announce to John that William wished to relinquish the estate to him, and bade the lawyer prepare a deed of gift accordingly. But before this could be done the affair had got published, unfortunately for John; for having consulted counsel, some time elapsed before a decision was received, and during that time the news of the case spread far and wide. It was an unusual incident, and caused much sensation, and soon came to the ears of John's creditors, who were wild with rage when they heard they could not claim the property, and they felt what fools they had been to lend money on the security of an unentailed estate. Mr. Owen Evans also heard of it, and requested his son-in-law to purchase the estate of his brother. John could not do so; and now the storm burst on his devoted head, for his creditors would no longer be silenced, and issued their writs against him. Of course, when Mr. Evans heard of this, he broke off his daughter's engagement, making it quite clear that if she chose to run away with the captain, she would never receive a halfpenny out of the copper-mines. Thus John found every man's hand against him, and was unable any longer to deceive friend or foe. Brought in this manner to bay, he tried three modes of escape. He sued Miss Evans for breach of promise of marriage; he sold his commission, to meet pres 66 Brother, you are a brick, and I am a scoundrel! The fact is, I can't make you out! Why do you give me the estate? Don't you believe it is really yours? I can't find any flaw in your right of claim to it. Why do you give it up? Is it really because of our father's wish?" Why, what else should it be for?" answered William. "Don't you think that his wish is law? Would not you have done this yourself, had you been in my place? 66 No," said John, "I certainly should have done nothing of the kind; and I must say, William, that you are either an angel or a fool." "I don't think I am either. But now, all we have to do is to sign a deed of gift, and then you will be all right, though not so wealthy as I could have wished; I had no idea, John, that you were so heavily in debt as I hear you are. Why, what's the matter, John? he exclaimed, as John's face suddenly gathered blackness; and he rose hastily to leave the room. Stop a bit, my dear fellow," said John, "I'll be back in half an hour; wait for me." He rushed out of the house, and took a cab to his lawyer's. "Sheepskins! Mr. Sheepskins, the world is certainly going mad; for here is William making a present of Eastwood to me, and I am going to give it him back again, or, rather, I won't take it! Did you ever hear of such generosity as that?" John spoke excitedly, and it was some time before the placid lawyer could draw from his client an explanation of his words, which was to this effect, "That as he had raised money on the expectation of having Eastwood, and as he was not able to meet his creditors, they would, of course, seize the estate directly he came into possession. Consequently, if William gave it to him, it would immediately pass from his hands into that of the Jews." Now, Mr. Sheepskins," continued John, “ William may just as well have it as the Jews; in fact, a deal better. I am nearly at my wits' end; and really William's honesty puzzles me much more than all the chicanery I ever met with. Come with me, and let us make him keep it." 66 Arrived again in William's house, John left it to the lawyer to explain this new idea. But, strange to say, having made up his mind to relinquish the Saturday "£20,000 at least, including the ten per cent interest; but of course they claim a higher interest, and bring it up to about £60,000 or 70,000; so that if you thrust Eastwood upon me, it must pass Do keep it, there's a good fellow even Sheepskins thinks with me." on to them. "Give me time to think about it," said William, "give me two days before I decide." The first thing he did was to look closely into the details of John's debts. Mr. Sheepskins showed him that really all lawful and ordinate demands of the creditors could be satisfied by £30,000; and that the best way to assist his brother, and the most substantial kindness to him, would be to stand for the present on the law of Borough English, to claim and keep Eastwood and the money. "I should rather enjoy," continued the passionless lawyer, "seeing the Jews balked of their unrighteous usury, and yet fairly paid; both of which ends will be accomplished by letting Mr. Williams take the consequence of his extravagance by declaring himself bankrupt, and by allowing his creditors to have the £30,000. And then (after he is whitewashed) you can satisfy all the demands of honor by giving your brother the extra £10,000, now yours by your father's intestacy, but which Sir John meant him to have." Never had William passed such anxious hours as he now did, whilst cogitating what course he should pursue. His father's wish, justice to the creditors, and kindness to his brother, had all to be taken into consideration. He soon perceived that the first and last of these three items were the same in result. Whatever would be most beneficial to John would best fulfil his father's wish; and as regarded the creditors, William had to choose between just and unjust claims, or, rather, what he considered just and unjust demands. His thoughts resulted in the following conclusion, which he announced to his wife: 66 William agreed to this decision, with one exception, rather an important one. He could not keep Eastwood permanently, he said; though he would not mention this at present. So he settled with his brother that he would retain both the money and the estate till after John had cleared himself of his debts. There was no escape from the Bankruptcy Court; Philosopher William had strong ideas of justice, and he felt that, though the sinner were his own brother, sin must be allowed to be its own avenger. John himself quietly acquiesced in this plan, so in a few weeks his name appeared in the Gazette. His After this William felt himself at liberty to restore the money and the estate to his brother, on whom the strange vicissitudes of the last few months had taken a great effect, and had worked a wonderful change. Adverse circumstances alone, like unchecked prosperity, would have only driven him from bad to worse. The legal justice of the world would have hardened him; but his brother's extraordinary conduct in giving, knowing he could receive nothing again, in pursuing a course so contrary to his worldly interests, and in obeying a code of honor higher than that generally recognized, had done more good than all else to John. misfortunes had taught him the unreality of his former life, pursuits, and friendships; and his brother taught him the reality of honesty and the power of truth, for the love of which William had striven (to his own detriment) to carry out the wishes of a parent, who, to say the least of it, had been harsh and unkind to him, and had thus benefited one who had shown himself neither a friend nor a brother. So deeply had this wrought upon John that it had awakened in him feelings which had hitherto lain dormant; always impetuous, he was now as anxious to do right as he had formerly been headstrong in folly. So he went to William, and said, — William, I take the £10,000, because otherwise I should be a beggar; but I neither can nor will accept the estate. If you give it me I shall relinquish it to my late creditors." But William would not consent to keep it. He Mary, I have been plaintiff and defendant, completed the deed of gift, which, in the course of judge and jury, in my own person, about this matter a month, was forwarded to John, who had gone to of Eastwood. Now, my dear, will you please to Scotland. He accepted it now quietly and unresistrepresent a committee of her Majesty's Privy Coun- ingly, to the private astonishment of Mr. Sheepskins, cil, as a higher court of appeal. I will not go over and to Mary's bitter disappointment at John's "rethe ground you already know, but will call your lapse," as she called it. She held her husband's lordships' attention to the following facts. If I carry silence to be acquiescence in her opinion. John out the letter of my father's wish and give the estate wrote, courteously and formally thanking William to my brother, it will be instantly seized by the for the gift, after which they heard nothing of him creditors. Now I conclude that my father would for a long time. Some four months after he called rather even I should possess it than that the Jews on the lawyer, but forbade him to mention his visit should. So on that plea I would keep it; but - to his brother. He was so changed in manner and the creditors must be treated fairly. I am dubious appearance that Mr. Sheepskins hardly recognized if I am doing justice by them if I balk them of their him; quiet, self-contained, and reserved, all his preprey, although I am told by the lawyers that £30,000 tentiousness and overbearing manner had left him; will meet their just claims. This is the first point. and though less boisterously cheerful, he was obThe second is simpler. Sir John left £60,000, in-viously much more happy. He went several times tending that I should have £20,000, and John the to the lawyer, and at last, one evening, made his apremaining £40,000. Now, as my father left no pearance at his brother's. After a little conversawill, the money is equally divided between us; tion on his visit to the Highlands, he said, £30,000 each. Question of her Majesty's Privy Council to decide: What shall I do?" William, can you go down with me to Blackwall to-morrow? 99 'Well, if another day would suit you, I should be glad, as I have an engagement to-morrow. Will the next day or Friday do for you? 66 Scarcely," said John; for the fact is I am going out to Queensland. I have a fancy for farming, and I sail to-morrow. Come, there's a good fellow?" Neither Mary's volubility nor William's tender | purpose which had induced him so quietly to accept silence could elicit more from him than this, that he it from his brother, and which had taken him pricould not settle down idly in England, and that vately to Mr. Sheepskins. The change in his therefore he meant to make work for himself in thoughts, likes, and pursuits was so great that he felt Australia; and after an hour's chat, he left them, he could not settle in England, where he could not promising to call for William next day. As soon as quite free himself from old associates, so he deterthe door was shut on him, Mary, with a courtly rev-mined to emigrate. But when on board -his great erence, went up to her husband, saying, "All hail, my lord; hail to thee, Thane of Eastwood!" Mary, your wits are going, from your hankering so much for those fair acres. What do "O, nothing," she said, poutingly. "I was only prophesying." purpose achieved he sank into a silent condition; he did not appear unhappy, but soon prostration of the body followed on that of the mind, and he died before the ship reached its destination. Doubtless all was well with him. He had during the last four months striven to repair the evils of his youth. As far as he could, he had worked justice on himself; and now he could begin again in a country less known to him than Queensland even, and where it is hoped he would make use of the experience so dearly bought in this world. But the news of his death, a few months afterwards, gave William a melancholy assurance that he was really the rightful owner. The next day John did not appear as he had promised, but sent to fetch his brother to his hotel, By leaving the estate to his nephew, and by givwhence they went down together to the ship. They ing his brother only a life interest in it, John prewere both rather silent, though John assumed a light-vented William from getting rid of it on any plea. heartedness in talking of his prospects. As the hour drew near for William to leave the vessel, he wondered that his brother had no last words to give of directions about his property. "John," he said aloud," of course you have put all your affairs into Sheepskins's hands? I ask, because with your sudden departure I shall be glad to know that your property is in good care." "O yes, Sheepskins knows everything I want done." At the last moment, as William was leaving the ship, John called to him, "O William, give this parcel to your eldest boy as a remembrance from his uncle." And thus the brothers parted. William did not return home till after the children were in bed, so he laid the parcel on the table; of course Mary took it up and looked at it. "Open it, William, open it," she said, impetuously. "Nonsense, my dear! Laurence shall have the pleasure of opening it himself to-morrow." No, no," she said, dancing round her husband, you must open it! William, if you don't, I will. O, do open it!" Thus it was that the youngest son of Sir John Williams became "William Williams, Esq., Q. C., of Eastwood Park, County Herts." -- The question is left to the reader to answer, Was it by mere chance that these circumstances occurred, or was there an overruling Intelligence at work, who out of confusion brought order, and made contradictory laws subservient to one great end? A LOST ART. AMONG the many wrongs that I suffered during my school-time a period which it is only the poets who venture to misrepresent as agreeable—I set down as the most mischievous this wrong, that my handwriting was ruined. The seminary at which I was a pupil was unfortunately a Classical or Fashionable one. No young gentleman was supposed to be in a position that so vulgar an accomplishment as caligraphy could possibly become necessary to him in after-life. If you gave them the ideas and She spoke with such wild excitement that he un- a dictionary, there were few of us who had not did the outer string and paper, after which he came the "faculty divine" of constructing Latin verses; to an inner cover sealed. Then even the philosopher but as for the hand in which they were transcrib became puzzled as he opened a large piece of parched, you might think it had been an ingenious ment. What excited him seemed to quiet Mary. She sank on a chair, gasping out, "Read it!" He read it to himself, so she got up to look over him. There was a long pause, and then William cried for the first time since he left the nursery. "The noble fellow, the poor, noble-hearted fellow! Mary, we never did him justice! This is another deed of gift. John has hereby given the estate to our eldest boy; but I am to enjoy it during my life; or as he has worded it, he has given Eastwood in fee to Laurence with an usufructuary interest to me for life.' Wife, there is a stronger will than mine at work in this matter." It is needless to tell the reader that a letter, expressing William's appreciation of his brother's generosity, was sent to John by the next mail; but it never reached him. The great vicissitudes of the past year, the changes in his circumstances (greater within than even without) working on a frame weakened by years of hard living, had been too much for him. As long as the excitement of returning the estate to William lasted, he kept up. This intention of dispossessing himself of Eastwood was the effort of our little toes. In a school preparatory for Eton, however, such learning as how to write was no more to be expected than the art of book-keeping by double entry, and therefore parents and guardians were not disappointed. Once in a term, indeed, we each indited an epistle to our friends at home, under the surveillance of Dr. Swishem and his crew of ushers; but it was felt on all hands to be a very unsuccessful affair. The composition, it is true, was elaborate and ornate, and about as unlike what a boy would write, if left to himself, as can be conceived. MY DEAR [M. or P.]-I write to inform you that the school-term will be completed on the 29th inst., upon which day please to make arrangements for sending for me, if you can conveniently. Dr. and Mrs. Swishem request me to convey to you their best compliments. Hoping you are in good health. I remain, dear [M. or P.], your Affectionate Son. It would not be credited by Messrs. Piesse and Lubin, perfumers, how execrably those holiday letters" were permitted (in so fashionable a seminary) to smell of india-rubber. But the fact is, that Every Saturday, March 31, 1866] A LOST ART. case of a very flagrant outrage,swigging the Docnot only had the parallel lines, without which our communications would have been more or less diag-tor's table "ale" (it never wore Mr. Bass's triangle, onal, to be rubbed out, but also an immense amount I am certain) upon the sly, I say, in the case of of dirt, produced by tears, perspiration, jacket-cuffs, that depraved young gentleman, Maltworm minor, and other matters all incident to this tremendous I have known an imposition of Two Thousand Lines There was not much in common between Dr. ordeal; not to mention that half a dozen blades of of the poet Virgil to be set in punishment. penknives were used up in the work of erasures. The delicate manner (we called it "gingerly") S. (who was a foolish little round man, given up How our fingers scurin which the second r in "arrangements" (omitted to heraldry) and the bard of Mantua, but they in the original) was inserted by the Doctor himself, were always hereby connected in our minds, and in as good an imitation of the writer's own style as hated with an equal rancor. his sense of propriety would permit, and the final ried over those odious hexameters, until they grew What flourish in which the signature was enveloped, as at stiff and sore, and refused to form the letters! the conclusion of some pyrotechnic display, were How we scratched and scrawled, and dug into the efforts which would have excited our admiration, if paper, with those execrable steel pens! boys had such a tribute to give. They were really strange inventions were made use of (though never wonderful to us, most of whose native hieroglyphics patented) to shorten the cruel mechanical toil - by tying half a dozen pens together, and would have defied the subtilty of Colonel Rawlinson surely almost as bad as the Crank of our model or any other decipherer who had been only accus- prisonstomed to deal with cuneiform inscriptions. I say imputing the vice of repetition where our author In short, although of the positive results of my most of us, because some of us had been very respect- had never been suspected of it before! able writers before we came to Dr. Swishem's, and boast (for I soon forgot how to compose Latin owed our subsequent failure entirely to him and his education at Minerva Lodge I have but little to system. verses), that little was more than balanced by the fact, that my handwriting was utterly ruined by its Imposition system. Excessive speed was the only virtue which it nourished in the way of penmanship; we soon got to write "running-hands." But as for the art of writing, as a means of communicating information to others, it lapsed altogether, and was lost from amongst us, as completely as the method of staining glass is said to have disappeared from the whole human family. I myself, for instance, remember the time in my early boyhood when I could read with tolerable ease any sentence that I had once written, no matter though forty-eight hours might have intervened; whereas, as an adult, such a feat has been utterly impossible. The learned sergeant in the Pickwick Papers, who is described as so indifferent a penman that his best efforts could only be read by his clerk, his moderate ones by himself, and his usual ones by neither, was yet better than I; for after a day and night have elapsed, I can make absolutely nothing Caligraphic Mysof my own writing. It was a tery" long before the Stereoscopic Company patented theirs; and were it not for my wife, to whom the gift of interpretation has been revealed, and who copies out all my manuscripts for the press, the general public would know nothing of their favorite author. But stay, I am anticipating. It was never supposed at Minerva Lodge that any pupil would subsequently so far degrade himself, and it, as to endeavor to make a living by his pen. The possi-to do my revered masbility of such a misfortune never entered into the Doctor's brain. ter justice We were all country gentlemen's sons, and it was hoped that we should remain in that position of life in which it had pleased Providence to start us. -- But even a country gentleman has sometimes to Spirit-hands," to judge from the few specimens of the penmanship of the other world with which we have been favored, are not particularly adapted for are as copperplate setting "copies," and, indeed, much remind one of the wanderings of a spider, recently escaped from an ink-pot; but "spirit-hands specimens of caligraphy compared to my hand. To people who can't spell, a bad handwriting is some advantage; for in cases of doubt-such as, whether the i or the e come first in Believe or Receive they have only to make their customary scrawl, and the possible error becomes undiscoverable; but the nature of my profession has compelled me to acquire this accomplishment (no thanks to Dr. Swishem), There was one person who discovered ground for and I have rarely any occasion for concealment. He was a gentleman who lived a life of leiscongratulation upon this my shortcoming, and only one. The first day upon ure, and he confessed that my letters gave him greater pleasure than those of other friends, because they "lasted him so long." a dozen perusals, a glimmering of what was intended which he received one, he would discover, after half to be conveyed; the next day, some interesting detail would crop out; and by the end of a week, if some sentence did not emerge with a flash which altered the entire complexion of the affair, he found himself (with the assistance of his family, and any ingenious friend who happened to be enjoying his hospitality) in possession of all that I had wished to one. When my wife was unable to copy my deathsay. But this gentleman's case was an exceptional less works, the compositors murmured and rebelled. They only knew English, they said; not Sanscrit. My Essay on the Assyrian Bull, for instance, with 66 erasures some Remarks on its Treatment under Rinderpest, as suggested by Nineveh "Friezes," cost my publisher seventy pounds in printer's charges for |