ons the same rule must be adhered to, for,
being read month after month, each separate portion must be considered
as a whole and independents of the other; it must not therefore flag for
one minute. A proof of this was given in that very remarkable
production in "Blackwood's Magazine," styled "Tom Cringle's Log." Every
separate portion was devoured by the public--they waited impatiently for
the first of the month that they might read the continuation, and every
one was delighted, oven to its close, because the excitement was so
powerful. Some time afterwards the work was published in two volumes,
and then, what was the consequence?--people complained that it was
overcharged--that it was too full of excitement--gave no repose. This
was true; when collected together it had that fault--a very good one, by
the by, as well as a very uncommon one; but they did not perceive that
until it was all published together. During the time that it came out
in fragments they were delighted. Although, in this instance, the
writing was overcharged, still it proved, from the popularity it
obtained when it appeared in the magazine, what force and condensation
of matter is required in writing for periodicals.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

I am grave to-day; it is the birth-day of one of my children--a day so
joyful in youth, in more advanced life so teeming with thought and
serious reflections. How happy the child is--and it is its happiness
which has made me grave.

How changed are our feelings as we advance in life!--Our responsibility
is increased with each fleeting year. In youth we live but for
ourselves--self predominates in every thing. In mature age, if we have
fulfilled the conditions of our tenure, we feel that we must live for
our children. Fortunately, increase of years weans us from those
selfish and frivolous expenses which youth requires, and we feel it
little or no sacrifice to devote to our children the means which,
before, we considered so important to the gratification of our pride and
our ambition. Not that we have lost either our pride or our ambition,
but they have become centred in other objects dearer to us than
ourselves--in the race springing up--to whom we shall leave our names
and worldly possessions when our own career is closed.

Worn out with the pursuit of vanity, we pause at a certain age, and come
to the conclusion that in this life we require but little else than to
eat, drink, prepare for a futu