hangs upon the eye with weariness and pain: when one has wound up his resolution to become a wanderer and an exile,when with a tear on his cheek, but no word on his tongue, he has looked a long and a last adieu to all that were dear to him; any cause of delay is borne with impatience, and he could almost wish his beloved isle transported to a more remote quarter of the Northern hemisphere.
8. PLEASURES OF EXILE.—But let him not despond,he has,from the weighing of the anchor, enrolled himself as a citizen of the world, and carries his home and all its associations like the penates of the ancients, encased in his bosom. He will find that these will protect him in all his wanderings, that exile is not so bad a thing as he anticipated; nay, that the exile has an enjoyment of his country, that the gentlemen of England who live at home at ease know nothing of. The hospitable man who would gain most upon the good opinion of his guests, places before them some national dish of cookery; the favourite picture in the drawing room of the amateur is some homely landscape, descriptive of the days of his boyhood; the most admired character at a fancy ball is some old costume of the bygone time. I have seen the man who was indifferent to the higher compositions of music, struck with delight at hearing a pet bird whistle six or eight notes (being
