three bonnets. The agony of the respective
owners of these elegancies need not be dwelt
upon. But, perhaps the most melancholy lot
in the Government Bazaar was a packet of
pamphlets, "weighing one hundredweight,
two quarters, twenty-one pounds," according
to the catalogue, to be sold for the "benefit of
the Crown." This direct appeal from the
Commissioners of Customs to the
trunkmakers of the country, cannot be contemplated
by any lover of literature with other than
feelings of strong antipathy. Various old
trunks, boxes of old clothes, hundreds of
tattered volumes, hundreds of pairs of
dice, clocks innumerable, countless watches,
rivers of wine spirits, tons of tobacco, may
be added to our list of the stock which
Her Majesty has periodically on sale. On
the particular occasion to which we have
been all along referring, three hundred gross
of lucifer matches figured in the Bazaar,
besides several acres of East India matting;
forty-nine gallons of Chutney sauce; eighteen
gallons of curry paste; thirty millions of
splints; seventy-seven hundredweight of slate
pencils; sixty-eight gallons of rose-water; one
package of visiting cards; one ship's
longboat; and "four pounds" of books in the
English language!

Truly, the gentlemen who test the prices of
these various articles of commerce—who can
hit upon the precise value of slate pencils
and caviare, dolls' houses and fat liver
patties—must have extraordinary experience!
That they are, after all, human, and are
subject to mistakes like the rest of us, is
indisputable.

The Queen's Bazaar is a specimen of the
profitableness and policy of the whole system.
Smuggling, of which it is the parent, is not
looked upon by the community with much
horror; on the contrary, by some, as rather a
meritorious means of making bargains. "To
pretend to have any scruple about buying
smuggled goods," Adam Smith tells us,
"would in most countries be regarded as one
of those pedantic pieces of hypocrisy which,
instead of gaining credit with anybody, serve
only to expose the person who pretends to
practise them, to the suspicion of being a
greater knave than the rest of his neighbours."

The danger of maintaining laws which
it is held by many well-meaning persons,
not inglorious to break, has forced itself
upon the governments of most countries; and
it may be safely stated that the reduction of
duties on foreign goods has done more to put
down smuggling than fleets of revenue cutters,
armies of coast guards, and the quick eyes
of searchers. It is now believed that "whenever
duties exceed thirty per cent ad valorem,
it is impossible to prevent a contraband trade."
The experience of the present time points to
this conclusion, and further tends to show
that, economically, high duties are less
productive to the revenue than low duties;
inasmuch as to levy high duties, a large protective
force must be maintained, whereas, with
low duties, smuggling sinks to a losing game,
and is quickly abandoned. In 1831, Lord
Congleton estimated the cost of protecting the
revenue, at from seven hundred thousand to
eight hundred thousand pounds. In 1832,
upwards of one hundred and eighty-one
thousand pounds were expended in building
cottages for the officers and men of the Coast
Guard in Kent and Sussex. Yet, while duties
are imposed, however paltry in amount,
people of an economical turn will do a little
smuggling on their own account—as much
for the popular glory of defrauding the
revenue, as for the irresistible impulse of
saving a few shillings.

LIKENESS IN DIFFERENCE.

THERE was a tale of feeling,
   Told at eve, in a stately room,
Where the air was an odour stealing,
   And the light was a gorgeous gloom;—
And there was a story whispered,
   At a window, whose only blind
Was of wet vine-leaves, that glistered
   And shook in the swaying wind:
Two tales that were diverse spoken,
   Yet their import one, I knew,
And the language of each was broken—
   And both were true!

There was a maiden queenly,—
   Through bright halls gliding came,
Which grew brighter, as still serenely
   She smiled o'er an unbreathed Name:
And there sat a maiden lonely
   On the hearth, striving, line by line
By the light of the embers only,
   To spell out a Valentine.
Two hearts that were keeping duly
   One time and one tune in each breast,
Both true-loved and loving truly—
   And both were blest!

A CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.

CHAPTER II.

THE Romans had scarcely gone away from
Britain, when the Britons began to wish they
had never left it. For, the Roman soldiers
being gone, and the Britons being much
reduced in numbers by their long wars, the
Picts and Scots came pouring in over the
broken and unguarded wall of SEVERUS in
swarms. They plundered the richest towns,
and killed the people; and came back so often
for more booty and more slaughter, that the
unfortunate Britons lived a life of terror.
As if the Picts and Scots were not bad
enough on land, the Saxons attacked the
islanders by sea; and, as if something more
were still wanting to make them miserable,
they quarrelled bitterly among themselves
as to what prayers they ought to say, and
how they ought to say them. The priests,
being very angry with one another on these