selfishness of the times. Had LAURIE
been born to hide his ears in a coronet, he could not have more strongly
displayed the social insensibility of the day. The prosperous saddler, and
the wretched, woe-begone tailor, are admirable types of the giant
arrogance that dominates--of the misery that suffers.

There is nothing more talked of with less consideration of its meaning and
relative value than--Life. Has it not a thousand different definitions? Is
it the same thing to two different men?

Ask the man of independent wealth and sound body to paint Life, and what a
very pretty picture he will lay before you. He lives in another
world--has, as _Sir Anthony Absolute_ says, a sun and moon of his own--a
realm of fairies, with attending sprites to perform his every compassable
wish. To him life is a most musical monosyllable; making his heart dance,
and thrilling every nerve with its so-potent harmony. Life--but especially
his life--is, indeed, a sacred thing to him; and loud and deep are his
praises of its miracles. Like the departed ROTHSCHILD, "he does not know a
better;" certain we are, he is in no indecent haste to seek it.

Demand of the prosperous man of trade--of the man of funds, and houses,
and land, acquired by successful projects--what is Life? He will try to
call up a philosophic look, and passing his chin through his hand--(there
is a brilliant on his little finger worth at least fifty guineas)--he will
answer, "Life, sir--Life has its ups and downs; but taken altogether, for
my part, I think a man a great sinner, a very great sinner, who doesn't
look upon life as a very pretty thing. But don't let's talk of such dry
stuff--take off your glass--hang it!--no heel-taps."

Ask another, whose whole soul, like a Ready Reckoner, is composed of
figures,--what is Life? He, perhaps, will answer, "Why, sir, Life--if you
insure at our office--is worth more than at any other establishment. We
divide profits, and the rate of insurance decreases in proportion," &c.
&c.; and thus you will have Life valued, by the man who sees nothing in it
but a privilege to get money, as the merest article of commercial stock.

Inquire of many an Alderman what is Life? He will tell you that it is a
fine, dignified, full-bellied, purple-faced creature, in a furred and
violet-coloured gown. "Life," he will say, "always has its pleasures; but
its day of great delight is the Ninth of November. Life, however, is
especially agreeable in swan-ho