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is something sublime in being out of humour with the whole world. Discontent against an individual is called anger; that against the many, misanthropy. There is a great deal of poetry in an epithet. Lorraine indulged in the latter mood of mind for a week. His brother called—he was denied: a first conciliating note from Mr. Delawarr was unanswered—the second met a cold but bitter reply. Both grew angry, and public dispute ended in private dissension. It is a curious fact, how violent people get upon political questions, particularly if they are