with no direct consciousness, the conqueror
of all their falsehoods and worst prejudices.

"It never rains, but it pours." Good luck,
and ill luck, never come single. The news of
one success is scarcely cool before you hear
of another piping hot; and, on the contrary,
if you meet with a misfortune, the very day
after it you are pretty sure to hear of another.
Receive a note which tells you of the breaking-
down of some profitable arrangement, or
loss of money, and by the next post comes a
bill which you had expressly intended to pay
with the money you have just lost.

"What proof of penetration is it to tell the
hour when the clock strikes?" (Chinese.) In
ridicule of those who prophesy after the event.

"To the connoisseur the smell of salt fish is
never fœtid." (Chinese.) Tastes may be
educated to anything. Nothing is caviare
to the connoisseur.

"Deprived of the harmony of the lute and
guitar, of what importance is the difference of
perfume between the laseras and the vanilla?"
(Chinese.) The "laseras" is the most beautiful
species of mushroom. How exquisitely
Chinese is the suggestion of refined luxury
and delicate discrimination! The peculiarities
of delicious perfumes can only be rightly
appreciated by the aid of romantic music.

"Appearances are deceitful." (Chinese.)
One is fairly surprised at finding these old
familiar proverbs come from most remote
places and times. The above one is accompanied
in China by a little metaphysical
comment, which is deliciously Chinese. "On
opening my eyes, I see very well that he is
not me. But, on starting from sleep, the
question is often asked, 'Who am I, myself? '"

"One fool makes many." A jocular fellow
once laid a bet that he would assemble a large
crowd in the streets of London in ten minutes,
who should all gaze at nothing, and inquire
earnestly about it. Accordingly he stopped
abruptly in Holborn, and pointed with one
finger just over a chimney-pot, following the
tip of his finger with his eyes, most intently.
In the course of five minutes he had set a
dozen people looking in the same direction,
and these dozen acting upon the minds of
passers-by, produced a crowd of fifty or sixty
people within five minutes more, all looking
up, and inquiring of each other what it was.
The same thing applies in politics, in literature,
in the fine arts, in trade, in fashion.
But does the converse hold? Does one wise
man make many? Certainly not; but his
influence is pretty sure at some time or other,
to render many less foolish than they otherwise
would be, and to sow the seeds of future
wisdom in a few.

"Hab' auf Deine Gänse Acht, wenn der
Fuchs den Pfarrer macht; "when the fox
turns preacher, take care of your geese. Most
people would do this, but the difficulty is to
know the fox in his various disguises. He is
seldom found out till too late.

"Birds of a feather flock together." This is
another version of "Show me your company,
and I'll tell you what you are." A certain
man of genius being introduced to a literary
lady, said to her, "Shall we dispense with all
ceremony, and understand each other at
once?" "By all means!" replied the lady.
"Well, then," said he," who are your
philosophers and poets?"

"It is the last feather that breaks the camel's
back." (Arabic). How often do we see an
oppressive conduct continued to the utmost
extent, only just short of the last feather,
so that when the poor drudge dies, no one
can say he was killed by the last feather. His
oppressor simply says he was worn out.
History, both ancient and modern, displays
striking examples of this; the last feather,
however, in these cases, breaking the back of
the people's endurance, and sometimes breaking
the back of the tyranny that overloaded
them. The proverb of "Do not overload the
willing horse," is of the same family as the
above, and may be regarded as a preliminary
caution.

"Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura
dementiæ." (Seneca.) No great genius without
a certain degree of madness. This is just
the kind of saying which pleases commonplace
people, who thus escape the uneasy
sense which superiority so often gives to self-
love. That an intense devotion to some
special development, and the predominance of
certain special faculties, are apt to produce
corresponding characteristics in the individual,
is natural, and, perhaps inevitable; and in this
sense, we suppose, that a certain (or, rather,
an uncertain) degree of what ordinary people
mistook for madness was exhibited by Homer
and Shakspeare, Michael Angelo and
Rembrandt, Bacon and Goëthe; but it does not
appear in their works. We prefer a better
term—inspiration.

PIPE-CLAY AND CLAY PIPES.

I HAVE an eccentric friend, whom I meet
occasionally. He cannot be said to have an
inquiring turn of mind, or usually to busy
himself with the science of industrial economy.
Babbage is an unknown writer to him; and
he has not yet contrived to "get up" any
interest in the recent Reports on Her Majesty's
Customs. In fact, I should not be surprised if
he never opened the interesting volumes in
question. He is a man with an active mind,
nevertheless; but this activity is expended, as
a rule, in eccentric pursuits. He has one
confirmed antipathy—he hates a purpose. Since
he heard that I had written a paper on the
wrongs of factory children, he has treated me
with marked coolness. Yet he is a man with
an excellent heart. Let me at once give the
key to his character. Most people have one
serious object in life, therefore he is opposed
to all serious objects. Lately, I met him
walking briskly on his way homeward, and I
consented to accompany him. Suddenly, he