very. An anecdote is related concerning the effects of this display of eloquence, which we believe to be strictly true. Two hours be fore its conclusion, just as the speaker beautifully apostrophised the luminaries of the French Revolution, the lights in the clubroom expired in their sockets, and a motion for a fresh supply was negatived on a suggestion of the treasurer, that the exchequer was empty. It was then carried by acclamation, that physical illumination was an unnecessary addition to the blaze of eloquence, and the peroration was wound up in utter darkness. Mr. M'Guffie's papers of this date exhibit a singular miscellany. Essays on "The Sovereignty of the People," and the Miseries of Taxation," are intermingled with expostulary notes for sundry small sums, addressed to him by fashioners of coats, and menders of shoes, and a milk-vender's bill is indorsed with some pithy observations on "The Necessity of Annual Parliaments and Universal Suffrage." From these documents, and other trust-worthy sources of information, we feel justified in stating, that Gideon M'Gaffie, at this stage of his life, was in purse a pauper, and in politics a Radical Reformer.

The next epoch in his history finds him under more prosperous circumstances, with his zeal for reformation considerably abated. He was now an operative no longer, but had mounted to the rank of a master manufacturer upon a small scale. His quarters were removed to one of the streets leading immediately to "The Causeyside," in which he secretly indulged the hope of yet securing a footing. His habits and opinions began gradually to assume an altered aspect. The club ceased to enrol him in the ranks of debate: its members who had rapturously hailed the developement of his oratorical powers, were received but coldly by their old associate. Tom Paine was discarded; and as his wardrobe improved, Gideon occasionally visited the City Churches. When workmen made ‘a strike,' he refused his accustomed co-operation as Secretary; talked of the illegality of such combinations, and exclaimed against the folly and injustice of striving against capitalists. Parliamentary and Burgh Reform still appeared to him desirable objects, but he insisted that they should be accomplished in a moderate Constitutional way. He deprecated the horrors of Revolutionary movements, denounced Cartwright as a visionary, and toasted Charles James Fox. In forming his acquaintance, he evinced a solicitude to ascertain the precise amount of their income, and regulated his advances accord. ingly. Most people considered him a thriving man: his business gradually expanded, while his expences continued to be regulated by severe economy. Retrenchment in all departments of the State became his favourite theme. In Burgh affairs he was, right or wrong, a decided opponent of the civic authorities, reprobated the hole-andcorner system, and proved the impossibility of any good resulting from "the old jade self-election." On the Liberty of the Press he declaimed in exalted terms. Gideon M'Guffie was now noted as a person of substance, and a thorough Whig.

After the lapse of a number of years, in which Fortune had uniformly favoured him, the subject of our narrative appears before us as the head of a family, and a topping manufacturer, with a warehouse in "The Causeyside," and a mansion in one of the most creditable streets. His person remarkably attenuated in his younger days, had waxed symbolical of luxurious living, the hollows of his sallow cheek were filled with rosy and succulent flesh, and it was no longer in the power of malice itself to dub him a long-winded orator. A change not less remarkable was evident in the inner man. The whole fabric of his primal sentiments had given way, and he seemed to have undergone a political New Birth. Radicals were his dread, and Whigs his aversion. At the celebration of royal birth-days, his hip-hip-hurra! was heard above the loudest, and to place his loyalty beyond dispute, he learned to chaunt a stave of " God save the King," and " The Pilot that weathered the storm." He reciprocated dinners with the Clergy and the Authorities: sleeping or waking, no Sunday or Fastday witnessed his absence from Church, where he at length appeared in the capacity of an elder. In the Coffee-room he was always surrounded by a large circle of admirers, amazed at his profundity as he descanted on the leading article of the Courier or John Bull. A few visits to London gave him the last finish as a man of the world. By the solicitations of his spouse, he ventured on the purchase of a noddy, and a villa in a romantic part of the coast. It was clear that he had recanted the reforming heresies of his youth. After much coquetry with "The Council," he received intimation that his admission on the next election was fixed and certain. He was at this time an individual of consequence-an avowed Tory worth eight thousand pounds, with the prospect of bequeathing to his posterity the proud recollection that they were the sons and daughters of Baillie (perhaps Provost !) M'Guffie. [Here let the historian pause to caution those who are indulging in the lap of affluence, to beware of Fortune's fickleness, and the melancholy mutability of human affairs.] Riches take to themselves wings and flee away," a quotation which applied but too closely to Mr. M'Guffie, from this period onwards. It serves no purpose to specify particulars; it is sufficient to state, that loss succeeded loss so rapidly and heavily, in his hitherto prosperous trade, that instead of being elected to a place in "The Council," the only publicity his name received was the unhappy notoriety of the Gazette. By the help of sundry odds and ends, and credit, the poor man's last shift, he again commenced business, but with a subdued and soured spirit. He ceased to reciprocate dinners with the Clergy and Authorities-abandoned the Coffee- Room, the Courier, and John Bull-read the Morning Chronicle, at secondhand, and by stealth-became a severe member of the eldershipcanvassed for Commissioner of Police, and was defeated-assumed a discontented expression of face-retrenched his annual expenditure for inexpressibles-grumbled something about altered times-and relapsed from the state and pomp of Toryism into the vinegar home

liness of uncompromising Whiggery. Thus ended another epoch in his political existence.

A Whig he continued during various vicissitudes, elevating or depressing his notes, according to the rise or fall of silks. At last adversity came with " one fell swoop," and reduced him to utter and irremediable beggary. He was once more immersed in the poverty of his youth, with the additional afflictions of a wife and children, habits of indulgence, and approaching old age. Thus situated, he returned to operative industry, resigned the eldership, and resumed Tom Paine, and the loom found him closing, as he commenced life, in purse a pauper, and in principles a Radical Reformer.

Such was Gideon M'Guffie whom we propose to follow as our political model. All his views were regulated by circumstances, and emanated from the state of his pocket. We know of no party in the nation that can cope numerically or substantially with his followers; and assured of the fact, we beg to include ourselves among its adherents. While we can muster a good dinner, and a bottle of generous wine, by all means let the existing order of things be perpetuatedbut the moment we are reduced to cold water and a mouldy crust, the sooner a change arrives the better. Gentle Reader! in the modest compass of this article, we have revealed to you the whole Philosophy of Politics, and withdrawn the gauze from all that is mysterious in Statesmen and State matters.-Reflect, and be thankful!

THE TWO GLADIATORS.

It was a holiday in Rome; the last of a series given by the Emperor Claudius, in honour of his easy victories in Britain. The vast amphitheatre was crowded at an early hour, by an immense multitude from the various classes of human beings, contained in the Great City. All ranks and sexes-the highborn and the beautifulpatrician, equestrian, and plebeian, congregated there. Wild-looking strangers ambassadors from Germany, Parthia, and Armenia, were assembled to witness the proud display of Imperial magnificence. Claudius himself, affecting an air of unaccustomed dignity, and accompanied by the abandoned Messalina, favoured the entertainment with his presence. Expectation sat upon every brow: the choicest and most popular of Roman games was to be exhibited. Extraordinary exertions had been made to give the exhibition an interest surpassing every thing of the kind that had preceded it. Foreigners, or as it was the fashion to call them, barbarians, of tried courage and activity, and even persons of noble families, were the actors selected for the occasion. The very excitement created in the assembly by

the preparations for the sport, pronounced its character; and no one who had once witnessed such a display, could doubt, on looking around, that he was again on the eve of beholding a fight of Gladia

tors.

Among those who were to try their fortune in the game of life and death, were two Britons, from whose approved skill and desperate courage, the lovers of the shew anticipated much amusement. They had been chiefs of petty states in their own country, and having, from mutual animosity, refused to coalesce against the common enemy, were defeated successively by Aulus Plautius, and sent prisoners to Rome. Their exploits in the amphitheatre had already attracted the notice and approbation of the Emperor, and he condescended to inform them, that if they acquitted themselves according to expectation on this occasion, they should not only be liberated, but dismissed with honours and rewards. To men hopelessly exiled from home and kindred, such a prospect afforded sufficient temptation to exertion the most perilous, and they swore by the Gods of their father land, that they would never submit to live another day, if they failed to realize it. Neither chief knew of the captivity of his countryman and foe, and the hope of yet prosecuting their schemes of personal vengeance, mingled in the dreams of these savage warriors as they contemplated their return to their native shores.

The combat began. It was not on this day the humour of the audience to spare the unsuccessful, and the arena was speedily soaked with blood. Arrangements had been privately made that the Gladiators, victorious in their respective divisions, should be matched against each other, and that the conquerors in this trial should be again divided and opposed, until at last the struggle for pre-eminence terminated in a single combat. Man after man bit the dust to the infinite delight of the spectators. Sport so excellent the walls of an amphitheatre had rarely witnessed. Claudius joined heartily in the acclamations. The loveliest dames of Italy acknowledged with their sweetest smiles the stolen glances of their admirers, as they turned to express approval of a powerful thrust or dexterous evasion. Messalina, regardless of her besotted lord, fixed her scorching gaze upon the massive forms of the combatants as they passed to their death-play, and could willingly have interceded for more than one Adonis of swelling muscle and gigantic frame.

Noon was past, and evening coming on. The brief resting-time allotted to those who survived the morning struggle, was followed by fierce impatience both in themselves smarting from wounds, and worn with fatigue, and the crowd who urged them to deeds calculated to rouse the jaded appetite for carnage. No blow was parried in this encounter-recklessness of life answered the general craving for slaughter, and in a short space there remained, of all the stately human creatures, every motion of whom might have afforded a lesson to the sculptor, only two capable of continuing the combat. One of these was of the class called Secutores, who are armed with a helmet,

a shield, and a sword or leaden bullet; the other was of the Retia rii, who, without defensive armour, carry a net for entangling the adversary by casting it over his head, and a three-pointed lance for dispatching him. In consequence of the singular intrepidity displayed by these men, Claudius commanded the amphitheatre to be cleared of the wounded and dead, and water to be supplied, that they might act unimpeded, and free themselves of blood and dust, ere they terminated singly the festivities of the day. Leaning against pillars on opposite sides of the arena, with their heads averted from the multitude and each other, they submitted to the ablution offered by the attendants, and moved at the signal with steps slow but firm to the centre of the amphitheatre. As the Retiarius prepared to cast his net, the eye of his antagonist fastened full upon him. An exclamation, in a tongue unknown to Romans, burst from both. The exiled chiefs of Britain knew, for the first time, that they had suffered the same captivity, and survived the same strife; and now the death of one or both was to seal the recognition. Each rested his weapons upon the ground, and surveyed his opponent in silence. Their picturesque attitudes, their valour already signalized, and the mortal determination exhibited in the settled gloom of their countenances, imparted a strange interest to the scene, and for the moment made the mighty concourse of spectators as still as the sheeted dead that crowd the subterranean sepulchres of Egypt. It was but for a mo ment, however-patrician beauties and court minions grew weary of delay, and a hoarse murmur, like the growl of receding thunder, evinced the universal solicitude for the fight.

They looked on the multitude, and then again exchanged glances -those island warriors who, enemies from their youth, were brought by destiny to wash away the remembrance of mutual wrongs for the sport of their haughty captors. Amidst the swell of Italian voices, the echo of their own hung upon their memories, and the burning hate of years expired in thoughts of Britain, of their wives,, and their children the place they once held among their people, and their present degradation. Their features interpreted their feelings--neither spoke a word, nor moved a limb. They wept the Gladiators the barbarous and hostile Gladiators wept!

It is not in the nature of the populace to forego their pleasures lightly, and the cry rose loud against them when they showed no sign of commencing the desired struggle. Their apathy exasperated Claudius, who was resolved that, without a combat, they should not reap the honours and rewards he promised, if they pleased him in the games. He gave command that they should be slain, if they persisted in declining the encounter. The whole amphitheatre was in confusion, as the imperial mandate passed from lip to lip. A band of Thracian slaves rushed to its execution but they arrived too late. The two Gladiators had fallen by their own hands.