the greatest astronomers of modern times, was originally a player in the band of a Hanoverian regiment. General Hoche, who commanded an expedition against Ireland in 1796, began life as a stable-boy. The Joan of Arc, who by her heroism delivered France from the English, was born of poor parents, and supported herself in early life by keeping sheep, and taking care of horses at a country inn. Samuel Johnson was the son of a bookseller at Lichfield, and attempted to support himself by keeping a school: before he became known, and was patronised by the crown, he had to endure severe pecuniary difficulties. Henry Jones, a poet and dramatist of last century, was born of poor parents at Drogheda, and was bred a bricklayer.

La Harpe, a French dramatist, poet, critic, and miscellaneous writer, was the son of a Swiss officer, who died in poverty, and left him an orphan in such destitute circumstances that he was supported by the Sisters of Charity, and it was by their recommendations that he was gratuitously educated. Lannes, Duke of Montebello, and a marshal under Napoleon, who esteemed him highly for his bravery, was born of poor parents, and was at his outset in life a common dyer. David Levi, a Jew of considerable literary talent, and author of a variety of works, was first a shoemaker and next a hatter, but contrived to acquire a respectable portion of learning. Leyden, the author of some beautiful Scottish poems, and a person of refined sentiment, was the son of a shepherd in Roxburghshire. Maitland, the historian of London and Edinburgh, began the world as a travelling-dealer in hair. Benjamin Martin, who flourished as a writer on science at the beginning of the last century, was originally a farmer's labourer, but by dint of perseverance he acquired sufficient learning to become a schoolmaster, and afterwards a lecturer on experimental philosophy. Matsys, an eminent Dutch painter, was originally a blacksmith, and his love for the daughter of an artist is said to have been his inducement to study painting. Molière, the eminent dramatist, was the son of a valet-de-chambre of the

French king. Murat, one of the most intrepid of the French marshals, was the son of an innkeeper at Bastide. Ney, the bravest of the brave,' was the son of an

artisan.

Samuel Richardson, the author of Sir Charles Grandison,' and other works of fiction, was the son of a joiner, and had a very scanty education: he was bound an apprentice to a printer, and by his genius and perseverance rose in his profession, and became an eminent literary character. Rousseau, one of the most eminent French writers, was the son of a watchmaker; and being apprenticed to an engraver, he was so ill-treated by his master, that he ran away before he was sixteen: his education was totally neglected, and for years he wandered as a vagabond, seeking a precarious subsistence, yet by his natural abilities he brought himself into notice and fame. Ruyter, the famous Dutch admiral, began the world at eleven years of age as a poor sailor-boy. The illustrious Shakspeare was the son of a dealer in wool, and such was the poverty of the young dramatist, that he employed himself first as a prompter's call-boy; other accounts represent him as holding gentlemen's horses at the door of the playhouse. Shield, the famous English violinist and musician, was the son of a singing-master, who, in his ninth year, left him fatherless: his early years were spent as an apprentice to a boat-builder, but his genius led him from this occupation to that of music, in which he was eminently successful. Jeremy Taylor, an eminent theologian and prelate of the seventeenth century, was the son of a barber. Toussaint L'Ouverture, who was appointed governor and president of the free black republic of St Domingo, was born a slave, in which condition he remained till the revolution in the island brought forward his abilities and courage. Wallenstein, a celebrated German general, began life as a page to the margrave of Burgau, a situation almost equivalent to that of a footboy to an English country gentleman. Webbe, who has been so celebrated of his musical compositions, especially his glees, was originally a poor

destitute boy, who gained a meagre subsistence by copying music, but by dint of incessant study he became an excellent composer.

West, the American painter, had many difficulties to contend with at his outset, but, like many eminent artists, he overcame them all by his perseverance. With him skill truly led to fortune. Jarvis Spencer, a miniaturepainter of last century, was originally a valet, or menial servant. Hanam the painter was at first the apprentice of a cabinetmaker. Richard Wright and Lawrey Gilpin were originally ship-painters. Barry, an Irish painter, was originally a working-mason. Sir Thomas Lawrence was the son of an innkeeper at Bristol, and such was the poverty of his parents and his own natural genius, that, when a mere boy, he supported the family by painting. Giotto, the reviver of painting in Italy, was the son of a peasant, and he himself kept sheep while a boy. Ghret, the famous drawer of botanical objects, was the son of a working-gardener. Canova was the son of a stonecutter, was left an orphan, and raised himself entirely by his genius. Taylor, the water-poet, was a waterman. Antonia Bianchi, an Italian poet, was a gondolier. Allan Ramsay was the son of a workman at Leadhills, and began life as a barber. Stow, the author of the 'Survey of London,' and Speed, the author of the 'History of Great Britain,' were originally tailors. And Anthony Purver, a selfinstructed man of learning, and a preacher; Joseph Pendrell; Bekman, the German; Holcroft, the novelist; Bloomfield the poet; Lackington, who rose to such eminence as a bookseller in London; and Drew the metaphysician, were all originally members of the 'gentle craft' of shoemaking.

After perusing this long catalogue, who would despair? With trust in God, and with diligence in his calling, let the young aspirant shun mean indulgences, and aim at success. Then, if he reach not fortune, he will at least have the blessed consciousness of having deserved it.

THE MASKED BALL.

IN the centre of the city of Berlin stands a building, which, probably from its massive proportions, has been styled the Colosseum. It is at present entirely devoted to purposes of gaiety and amusement for the less wealthy classes of that city-balls, concerts, and theatrical exhibitions being there given at a very moderate charge. During the more gay periods of the carnival, in particular, masked balls are given in this extensive building. Upon such occasions, the immense dancing-saloon is crowded to excess; and the galleries, which entirely surround it, are likewise filled with the spectators of the moving panorama below. Although females of the higher orders never venture into the motley throng, a portion of the gallery is railed off and fitted up for the reception of the ladies of the royal household, whence they may at leisure survey the pleasing and lively scene around.

On one of the evenings set apart for these masquerades, I accompanied two officers of the regiment of guards to this scene of merriment, we being all carefully equipped for the occasion. To my companions the concealment of their persons was essentially necessary, since their recognition as officers of the army would have compelled them to forego the pleasures of the dance. Upon entering, we found the music had already commenced, and the sets for the contre-danse which was to open the ball already formed. In order more perfectly to enjoy the scene, we pressed our way through the supper-room, up stairs, and succeeded in gaining a position in the gallery which commanded a full view of the exhilarating spectacle. The young girls were generally dressed in some fancy garb, which, though far from being rich or magnificent, yet displayed much taste in the adornments and selection. There was not that brilliancy and variety in the costumes which might dazzle and gratify the eye,

but the mind might well feel charmed at the contemplation of that very simplicity, which at once bespoke the grade and the modesty of the unpretending wearers. The throng which pressed upon the dancers was kept back by a dapper little master of the ceremonies, who, having at length marshalled his forces to his liking, stepped into the middle of the vacant space, and, clapping his hands, gave the signal to the musicians, who, instantly ceasing the overture which had been reverberating through the hall, turned to the buoyant air of Lot ist todt, and at once set loose the feet of the impatient multitude. Now the scene was at its height, for the stirring music helped on to a vivacity which it was impossible to resist.

Conceive this spirit-stirring dance to be ended, and the floor of the saloon again crowded and confused. The deafening hum of voices now ascended to our ears in place of the exciting music, whilst all seemed on the move, as if to inspect more narrowly the different figures of a picture so vast and animating. But we had scarcely time to survey the features the scene had now assumed, before the work was again commenced of clearing the centre for dancers; and the director of the ball, who seemed in every respect disposed to exert his power for the benefit of those who might be called more peculiarly his own subjects, had again sounded the directions, and given the watchword 'Polonaise,' which shot like an electric spark through the frames of all, and produced an instant bustle for partners and places. We determined to remain in our seats, since it was almost useless to attempt a participation in the more active feats on the 'light fantastic toe,' as the crowd was so exceedingly dense. The Polonaise, as given on the confines of Poland, is a much more stirring and varying dance than what is tripped in England under that name. In one of the manœuvres which belong to it, each lady in her turn is led to the centre, where she is danced around by the gentlemen; whilst she, holding a handkerchief in her hand, at length tosses it in the air, and she becomes the