those solitudes when he has wandered out to his labour, and left one dear to him hovering between life and death; and he all day working and wondering, and watching omens, and breathing heavily under the imagined misery which his superstitious fancy portrayed. But then he had not fortified his mind with that knowledge which he afterwards gleaned from the Scriptures. He was then a stern man, one who would have either shrunk from or struggled with death; but he carried not his murmurings home; he vented them among the woods, and after-years of deep thought, and silence, brought him stern resignation. His is now no disaffection, no wishing for death; although, in the language of Byron, he might exclaim

""Tis solitude should teach us how to die

It hath no flatterers."

Abraham's mind seems to have taken its tinge from the scenes amid which he has dwelt; sometimes it resembles one of his own glades, open, and bright, and sunny; then again it partakes of the darkness of the deepest scenery that surrounds him, is still, and solemn, and unearthly, mingling with superstition and thoughts of death. But over all there hangs a resignation mighty, and deep, and beautiful, as the shadows sleeping upon the forest grass. A stranger would say he was stern, that his aspect was forbidding, that there was something awful in the deep tones of his voice; complain that he spoke not, only to answer their question, and even then in a brief abrupt tone. But let them meet him often, and remember that for years he has had no companions but those hoary trees and his own thoughts; let them catch the sober hues of his mind, send their thoughts into those deep channels into which his own flow, and they will soon find that the old Woodman has

"Thoughts too deep for tears:"

that he is sensible of the beauty reigning around him, and only looks upon himself as one of his own trees, which must fall whenever the grim woodman, Death, comes with his uplifted axe. His thoughts are mostly of another life; he has outlived all that drew his affections earth-ward, and will hold but little converse on matters that are not as serious as his own nature.

66

THE COUNTRY JUSTICE.

Then the Justice,

In fair round belly, with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut;
Full of wise saws and modern instances.

SHAKSPEARE.

IMPORTANT persons were those Country Justices in the olden time; men who, like Robert Shallow, Esq. were gentlemen born, and wrote " armigero to any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation; men whose estates were goodly and rich;" who had always in readiness" a few young pigeons, or short-legged hens, with a joint or two of mutton," or any other "kickshaw," which William the cook could soon dress; possessors of fruitful orchards and shady arbours, where they could treat their guests

to a last year's pipping of their own grafting; with a dish of carraways, and so forth." But we have no Justice Shallows now, who in their younger days "heard the chimes at midnight,” sung the tunes that they "heard the carman whistle,” and had “lain all night at the Windmill in St. George's Fields;"-perhaps within a few yards of where I am now sitting to write this paper. No! they are gone !-Old Jane Nightwork has also long been dead; she will never again be " angered to the heart" by Robert Shallow, never more hear the watchword of "Hem! boys," or be knocked up at night to let in the roystering blades of Clement's Inn; old Silence has sung his last song. Time has, however, left their merry doings unimpaired, and their memories will still be fresh and green in the pages of the immortal Shakspeare, when we, who now laugh at their mad pranks, are forgotten.

Then there is old Justice Clement, still sitting in magisterial dignity in the pages of "rare Ben Jonson;" and exclaiming "My chair, sirrah," before proceeding to business. A man who could "smell mischief," and would never be seen without his sword when a soldier appeared before him; who would call for a "bowl of sack," and for a sentence make his prisoner quaff a cup of it; who knew how to teach a knave a trick for saying "he must;" and when the trial was over, was the first to propose that the night should be spent in "love and laughter."

Who that has read "A New Way to Pay Old Debts," can forget Justice Greedy? that true lover of good living, whose "mouth run over" at the mention of a pipe of rich Canary; who took the cook by the hand, and could give thanks for the "larded pheasant," and was ready to prove that any commission might be put off for a good dinner; who could" even cry" when it was delayed, and would not stir a step without "a corner of that immortal pasty."

He was the man who grew eloquent while describing the "state of a fat turkey;" and all the "grandeur and decorum which he marched with." He "honoured a chine of beef," and "reverenced a loin of veal;"-ate often, and gave thanks, until his "belly was braced up like a drum," and that he "called justice." He raised the very house when the cook refused to stuff the fawn "with a Norfolk dumpling;" and would have gone "stark mad" had he not prevailed upon him to "dish out the woodcocks with toast and butter." Rare fellows were these old Country Justices!

We have in our day had many a "hair-breadth escape" from these surly summoners, when we unconsciously trespassed upon some forbidden ground, or made our way through some huge gap, which the fox-hunter had first burst open. Nay, more than once have we been called upon to find bail for traversing old woods, keeping suspicious-looking dogs, and many other similar misdemeanours, to which we were compelled to plead guilty. Crimes these might be, but they have left no pangs behind; their remembrance awakeneth no pain, nothing but a regret that they cannot be committed again, to bring back all the pleasures of former punishment.

Dear old Justice B- ! what a pleasure it was to be summoned before thee!—to look on thy rubicund face and Bardolphian nose that blazing beacon which was toasted through drinking Tory toasts, and had flamed through fifty elections for town or county. To see thee red with passion, whilst exclaiming, "Silence, sirrah!" and ere thou hadst had a couple of pinches from that old silver snuff-box, turn round and exclaim, "What case next? You may go home, sirrah."

Ah, well did we know the mood that thou wert in by watching the ponderous pigtail which hung half-way down