in ever-recurring works of tenderness and
love. She was so gentle and so modest that
it was only by her absence that her friends
knew how much they needed her.

BOOTS AND CORNS.

"BOOTS !" There is something, to my
thinking, particularly imposing in that simple
monosyllable. It conveys, to my mind,
an idea of solidity, strength, swiftness,
power of endurance, personal capability : it
images all the energetic and active
properties of our nature. There may be other
integuments, equally indicative of manhood,
but there are none of which a male wearer is
so proud as of his boots. To indue the
femoral garment, on one's first entry into
life, is something ; but to be booted is to
have life itself at the point of the toe—a football
to be kicked whithersoever it may please
the fantasy of the kicker. The man walks
not on two legs who has forgotten the joy
and pride with which he put on his first
pair of boots, particularly if he be old
enough to remember the palmy days of
Hessians and Tops, when the natural terminus
of humanity was a shining, well-shaped
boot ; even in the more than half-concealed
Wellington there was a consciousness of stability
and grace which nothing else that was
wearable could impart. Hats and gloves
are temporary adornments ; other articles of
clothing depend, more or less, on the skill of
the tailor, but boots depend upon themselves :
self-reliant, they stand alone.

What a wretched, slip-shod creature a
human being is without boots ! In that
forlorn condition he can undertake nothing ;
all enterprise is impossible ; he is without
motion ; a thing fit only to have his toes
trodden on. But, if the thought flashes
through his brain that he must be up and
doing, what are the first words that rush to
his lips ? "My boots !" Nothing else could
express the fixedness of his new-born
purpose. Suppose he called for his horse or
his arms, what sort of figure, having them
only, would he cut without his boots ? He
could not ride a furlong, or hold his ground
against his foe a single inch. But give him
time enough to draw on his boots, and a
new man starts at once into existence, ready
for anything. You have only to say—
in language that savours rather of blank-
verse or the Elizabethan period—that an
effort is bootless, and the folly of attempting
any adventure without boots becomes at
once apparent.

It was at a very early period of my
existence that I was first smitten by the
magnificence of BOOTS. I was a juvenile schoolboy
at Richmond-on-Thames, which "pleasant
place of all festivity," was at that time still
filled with French emigrants, very many of
them of high degree ; who—to keep the wolf
from the door—gave lessons in their own
tongue. At our school the French master
was a nobleman bearing the title of Count de
Sainte Marguerite, and he fully impressed us
with the idea of his being a count by his
very grand manner, his very high nose, and
his extremely meagre person. Of this last
attribute he appeared to be wholly
unconscious, for he invariably wore Hessian boots,
and close-fitting white web pantaloons.
Surrounded by his class, his natural hauteur
melted into confidence and kindness ; but
when the master of the school—who was a
vulgar-minded man—presumed on their
relative positions, the latent fire of the old
patrician made itself evident, and a few
words usually sufficed to vindicate his offended
dignity. But it is the last straw that breaks
the camel's back, and, arriving a little too
late one afternoon—the numerous splashes
on his Hessians attested how fast he had
walked—he was taken to task so coarsely
that, in the heat of reply, he showed more
independence than was agreeable. One word
begot another, until "pauper" fell from the
lips of the master. It was no sooner spoken
than the Count, white with fury—"methinks
I see him now"—rose from his seat, hurled at
the offender's head the book he had just opened
for our lessons, dashed on his hat, and stood
for a moment glaring, with clenched hands,
as if he meditated following up the attack.
The intention, however, if he entertained it,
passed away : he drew up his spare form to its
full height—we thought him excessively tall,
a common mistake at that age—and with an
expression of the utmost contempt, syllabled
the epithet, "canaille," and strode, boots and
all, from the schoolroom. It was the first
time I had heard the phrase, and though it
has since greeted my ears times innumerable,
the effect has been tame and weak by
comparison. The poor Count could ill afford
to indulge in the luxury of anger, for he
almost wanted the necessaries of life ; not
merely on his own account, but on that of
his motherless children. But I suppose
he found friends somewhere ; for we often
saw him afterwards in our walks, and the
grandeur of his high nose, the purity of his
white-web pantaloons, and the splendour of
his Hessian bools were unabated. A few
years later, a very painful event became
associated with his name; but even when I think
of his fate, the association is always BOOTS.

One of the first plays I ever saw was
Kotzebue's Stranger. But neither the tears
of Miss O'Neil, nor the severe dignity of
Mr. Young, excited such emotions in my
bosom as the boots in which the outraged
husband stalked across the stage. Had he
worn anything but Hessians, I might have
arrived then at the conclusion which I have,
since formed, that the Stranger is, after all,
nothing more than a tremendous sentimental
prig, but each of those boots was, in my
estimation, the very cothurnus of the serious
drama; there was a solemnity about them.