certain to secure the affectionate esteem of
such of their own countrymen as will have the
manhood to be open with them, and to trust
them,—that a whole people should be judged
by, and made to answer and suffer for, the most
degraded and most miserable among them, is
a principle so shocking in its injustice, and so
lunatic in its absurdity, that to entertain it for
a moment is to exhibit profound ignorance of
the English mind and character.  In
Monomaniacs this may be of no great significance,
but in Members it is alarming; for, if
they cannot be brought to understand the
People for whom they make laws, and if they
so grievously under-rate them, how is it to
be hoped that they, and the laws, and the
People, being such a bundle of anomalies,
can possibly thrive together?

It is not necessary for  us, or for any decent
person to go to Westminster, or anywhere
else, to make a nourish against intemperance.
We abhor it; would have no drunkard about
us, on any consideration; would thankfully
see the child of our heart, dead in his baby
beauty, rather than he should live and grow
with the shadow of such a horror upon him.
In the name of Heaven, let drunkards and
ruffians restrain themselves and be restrained
by all conceivable means—but, not govern,
bind, and defame, the temperance, the industry,
the rational wants and decent enjoyments of
a whole toiling nation! We oppose those
virtuous Malays who run a-muck out of the
House of Peers or Exeter Hall, as much as
those vicious Malays who run a-muck out of
Sailors' lodging-houses in Rotherhithe. We
have a constitutional objection iu both cases to
being stabbed in the back, and we claim that
the one kind of Monomaniac has no more
right than the other to gash and disfigure
honest people going their peaceable way.
Lastly, we humbly beg to assert and protest
with all the vigour that is in us, that the
People is, in sober truth and reality, something
very considerably more than a Great
Baby; that it has come to an age when it
can distinguish sound from sense; that mere
jingle,  will not do for it; in a word, that
the Great Baby is growing up, and had best
be measured accordingly.

TWO DAYS IN RIO DE JANEIRO.

IF there be one luxury in this world
greater than another, it is that of coming to
some fine tropical country after a dreary sea-
voyage; and if there be one sea-voyage more
dreary and  monotonous than another, it is that
across the South Pacific from Australia round
the Horn. A voyage into the Arctic regions
may be more savagely cold, but it has more
variety. You have, at least, bears, seals,
icebergs, and northern lights to vary your views;
but the long five-thousand-mile track from
Australia to the Horn has often none of these.
Sometimes you are treated to a few icebergs
slumbering, as it were, in a sublime isolation
in that vast solitude, but at others you do not
even catch a glimpse of these imposing
anchorites of the ocean. You sweep on day
after day, week after week, without the sight
of ship or land, the very fish refusing to rise
and divert your tedium with their gambols,
or their inconceivable speed. A flock of
pursuing sea-birds and the antarctic cold are
your only companions by day; the moon,
and stars, and clouds, by night.

With what delight, therefore, do you catch
the first glimpse of land, as you advance into
more genial latitudes. How airy and inviting
look those mountain chains and peaks, that,
at length, sever themselves from the delusive
mockeries of cloudland,and firm and real in
their azure distance, kindle your imagination
with visions of new aspects of nature, and
new forms of human life! How the sea
changes under your prow from the intense
blue of mid ocean to the green of shallower
soundings; how bland breathes the air from
land charged with spicy odours; how the
naked tawny cliffs skirting the ocean grow
and grow upon you, and the slender palms
lift, here and there, solitarily, their leafy
crowns into the clear air; assuring you that
you are on the threshold of Indian lands, on
the native shores of the palm, the cocoa, the
plantain, and the pine.

There is no place that more frequently
greets, in this cheering manner, the weary
traversers of the ocean than Rio de Janeiro.
There are none that are more calculated to
delight them. A splendid climate, bright
skies, a magnificent bay,  the white walls
and lofty towers of a great city,
surrounded by most picturesque mountains, by
lovely villas, and plantations of plantain and
banana, orange and cocoa-nut palm, and by
a vegetation new and luxuriant, receive you
from your sea-prison to all that is beautiful
and exhilirating.

The first point of land that we caught sight
of was Cape Frio, a lofty bluff on which
stood a light-house, and the white cottage of
the keeper. As we drew nearer nothing
could exceed the fineness of the approach to
this capital of the Brazils. Bold ranges of
mountains in extremely varied forms, and
lovely islands studding the ocean at their
feet, with palms showing themselves on their
ridges, welcomed us to land, and made us
think of the wonder and enthusiasm with
which the first discoverers must have
approached these shores. As we glided along
on a splendid day, beautiful peeps of country
at the feet of the hills, with villages, and solitary
cottages, and country houses built in a
quaint and antique style, raised every moment
our desire for a further acquaintance with
these elysian scenes. The entrance to the
bay was guarded as it were, by islands right
and left, and by rocky hills of a most bold
and abrupt character. To our left lay two
remarkable islands, Rodonda, so called from
its very rouud form, and Raza, on which