ingham Palace--into the very apartment
of the Queen--the adventurous youth has dared to insinuate himself. No
lady however sends her album to him for some memento of his genius.
His temple is not defrauded of its curls to grace a locket or a
medallion; and his reward, instead of a supper at Lady Blessington's,
is a voyage to Swan River. For my part, I prefer the boy Jones: I like
his singleness of purpose: I admire his steady perseverance; still,
however, he had the misfortune to be born in England--his father lived
near Wapping, and he was ineligible for a lion.

To what other reason than his English growth can be attributed the
different treatment he has experienced at the hands of the world. The
similarity between the two characters is most striking. Willis had a
craving appetite for court gossip, and the tittle-tattle of a palace:
so had the boy Jones. Willis established himself as a listener in
society: so did the boy Jones. Willis obtruded himself into places,
and among people where he had no possible pretension to be seen: so
did the boy Jones. Willis wrote letters from under a bridge: the boy
Jones eat mutton chops under a sofa.

A NUT FOR LEGAL FUNCTIONARIES.

The pet profession of England is the bar, and I see many reasons why
this should be the case. Our law of primogeniture necessitates the
existence of certain provisions for younger children independently of
the pittance bestowed on them by their families. The army and the
navy, the church and the bar, form then the only avenues to fortune
for the highly born; and one or other of these four roads must be
adopted by him who would carve out his own career. The bar, for
many reasons, is the favourite--at least among those who place
reliance in their intellect. Its estimation is high. It is not
incompatible but actually favourable to the pursuits of parliament.
Its rewards are manifold and great; and while there is a sufficiency
of private ease and personal retirement in its practice, there is also
enough of publicity for the most ambitiously-minded seeker of the
world's applause and the world's admiration. Were we only to look back
upon our history, we should find perhaps that the profession of the
law would include almost two-thirds of our very greatest men. Astute
thinkers, deep politicians, eloquent debaters, profound scholars, men
of wit, as well as men of wisdom, have abounded in its ranks, and
there is every reason why it should be, as I have