would be depopulated, and the country squire, the curate, the exciseman, and the barber, and many others, would lose those golden opportunities of appearing so very wise as they do.
A Newspaper may also be compared to the Seasons.

Its information varies on the roll of Time, and much of it passes away as a Winter, giving many a bitter pang of the death of a relative or hopeful lover; it is as a Spring, for, in the time of war and civil commotion, its luminary, the editor, like the morning sun, leads Hope forward to milder days and happier prospects--the smiles of peace; it is the heart's Summer calendar, giving news of marriages and births for heirs and patrons; it is the Autumn of joy, giving accounts of plenty, and guarding the avaricious against the snares of self-love, and offering arguments in favour of humanity.

It is more; a Newspaper is one of the most faithful lessons that can be represented to our reflections, for, while it is the interpreter ~214~of the general economy of nature, it is a most kind and able instructress to improve ourselves.
What are our lives but as the ephemeral appearance of an advertisement?
Our actions but as the actions of a popular contest?
Our hopes, fears, exultations, but as the cross readings of diurnal events?
And although grief is felt at the perusal of accidents, offences, and crimes, which are necessarily and judiciously given, there is in every good Newspaper an impartial record, an abstract of the times, a vast fund of useful knowledge; and, finally, no person has reason, after perusing it, to rise without being thankful that so useful a medium is offered to his understanding; at least, this is my opinion." "And now you have favoured me with this opinion," rejoined Tallyho, "will you be kind enough to inform me to what fortunate circumstance I am indebted for it ?" "The question comes very apropos," continued Tom--"for I had nearly forgotten that circumstance, so that you may perhaps be inclined to compare my head to a newspaper, constantly varying from subject to subject; but no matter, a novelty has just struck my eye, which I think will afford us much gratification: it is the announcement of an exhibition of engravings by living artists, under the immediate patronage of his Majesty, recently opened in Soho Square, through the public spirited exertions of Mr.Cooke, a celebrated engraver--And now I think of it, Mortimer and his Sister intend visiting Somerset House--egad! we will make a morning of it in reviewing the Arts--what say you ?" "With all my heart," returned Bob.
"Be it so, then," said Tom--"So-ho, my boy--perhaps we may meet the love-sick youth, poor Sparkle; he has certainly received the wound of the blind urchin--I believe we must pity him--but come, let us prepare, we will lounge away an hour in walking down Bond Street--peep at the wags and the wag-tails, and take Soho Square in our way to Somerset House.

I feel myself just in the humour for a bit of gig, and 1 promise you we will make a night of it." The preliminaries of their route being thus arranged, in half an hour they were on their road down Bond Street, marking and remarking upon circumstances and subjects as they arose.
"Who is that Lady ?" said Bob, seeing Tom bow as a dashing carriage passed them.
"That is a Lady Townley, according to the generally received term." "A lady of title, as I suspected," said Bob.
"Yes, yes," replied Tom Dashall, "a distinguished personage, I can assure you--one of the most dashing demireps of the present day, basking at this moment in the plenitude of her good fortune.

She is however deserving of a better fate: well educated and brought up, she was early initiated into the mysteries and miseries of high life.