Sable Island, dreary and inhospitable though
it be, was hailed and passed with pleasure.
Sambro' light was a welcome signal; the pilot,
who came on board in the grey of the morning,
was a messenger of glad tidings; and the
beautiful harbour of Halifax a joyful sight
after seven weeks' confinement in the "Eliza
Biggleswade."

To land with far more regularity than they
had embarked—shake hands with their
comrades, who had preceded them—to march up
the hill to barracks, with the air of men who
had already seen some service, and were
prepared to see more—and to know that they
were in a new hemisphere, with no aspect
materially altered of things they had been
accustomed to behold—were matters on which
the young soldiers congratulated themselves
with no small degree of internal satisfaction;
and no one amongst them more readily than
Maurice Savage, heretofore the unwilling
pupil of Corporal Rattler, but now by no
means the least active or efficient of the light
company in the Regiment.

His further and final progress will be told
next week.

"JUDGE NOT!"

MANY years since, two pupils of the
University at Warsaw were passing through the
street in which stands the column of King
Sigismund, round whose pedestal may
generally be seen seated a number of women
selling fruit, cakes, and a variety of eatables,
to the passers-by. The young men paused to
look at a figure whose oddity attracted their
attention. This was a man apparently
between fifty and sixty years of age: his coat,
once black, was worn threadbare; his broad
hat overshadowed a thin wrinkled face; his
form was greatly emaciated, yet he walked
with a firm and rapid step. He stopped at
one of the stalls beneath the column,
purchased a halfpenny worth of bread, ate part
of it, put the remainder into his pocket, and
pursued his way towards the palace of General
Zaionczek, lieutenant of the kingdom, who,
in the absence of the Czar, Alexander,
exercised royal authority in Poland.

"Do you know that man?" asked one
student of the other.

''I do not; but, judging by his lugubrious
costume, and no less mournful countenance, I
should guess him to be an undertaker."

"Wrong, my friend; he is Stanislas
Staszic."

"Staszic!" exclaimed the student, looking
after the man, who was then entering the
palace. "How can a mean, wretched-looking
man, who stops in the middle of the street to
buy a morsel of bread, be rich and powerful?"

"Yet, so it is," replied his companion.
"Under this unpromising exterior is hidden
one of our most influential ministers, and one
of the most illustrious savans of Europe."

The man whose appearance contrasted so
strongly with his social position, who was as
powerful as he seemed insignificant, as rich
as he appeared poor, owed all his fortune to
himself—to his labours, and to his genius.

Of low extraction—he left Poland, while
young, in order to acquire learning. He
passed some years in the Universities of
Leipsic and Gottingen, continued his studies
in the College of France, under Brisson and
D'Aubanton; gained the friendship of Buffon;
visited the Alps and the Apennines; and,
finally, returned to his native land, stored
with rich and varied learning.

He was speedily invited by a nobleman to
take charge of the education of his son.
Afterwards, the Government wished to profit
by his talents; and Staszic, from grade to
grade, was raised to the highest posts and the
greatest dignities. His economical habits made
him rich. Five hundred serfs cultivated his
lands, and he possessed large sums of money
placed at interest. When did any man ever
rise very far above the rank in which he was
born, without presenting a mark for envy and
detraction to aim their arrows against?
Mediocrity always avenges itself by calumny;
and so Staszic found it, for the good folks of
Warsaw were quite ready to attribute all his
actions to sinister motives.

A group of idlers had paused close to where
the students were standing. All looked at
the minister, and every one had something to
say against him.

"Who would ever think," cried a noble,
whose grey moustaches and old-fashioned
costume recalled the era of King Sigismund,
"that he could be a minister of state?
Formerly, when a Palatin traversed the Capital,
a troop of horsemen both preceded and
followed him. Soldiers dispersed the crowds
that pressed to look at him. But what respect
can be felt for an old miser, who has not the
heart to afford himself a coach, and who eats
a piece of bread in the streets, just as a
beggar would do?"

"His heart," said a priest, "is as hard as
the iron chest in which he keeps his gold; a
poor man might die of hunger at his door,
before he would give him alms."

"He has worn the same coat for the last
ten years," remarked another.

"He sits on the ground for fear of wearing
out his chairs," chimed in a saucy-looking
lad, and every one joined in a mocking laugh.

A young pupil of one of the public schools
had listened in indignant silence to these
speeches, which cut him to the heart; and
at length, unable to restrain himself, he
turned towards the priest, and said:—

"A man distinguished for his generosity
ought to be spoken of with more respect.
What does it signify to us how he dresses, or
what he eats, if he makes a noble use of his
fortune?"

"And pray what use does he make of it?"

"The Academy of Sciences wanted a place
for a library, and had not funds to hire one.