assist our pen, in our description of this curiosity. Although of the same genus, there are two or three different species of the remex Tamesis, which we will describe separately, as they appear upon the scene.

The time is a fine evening in July, the place Simmon's Boat Yard, decorated with the flags of a dozen clubs, and-enter rowers. Their appearance leads us to imagine that they have been indulging in a spurt from the railway station, that adorns the ancient High Street, as their flushed faces and disarranged apparel indicate some recent exertion. No Regent Street loungers these ; all hearty, fresh-coloured, earnest men, each with muscles and sinews fit to tackle Hercules himself, all enthusiastic in their pursuit of the pleasures of rowing, and glorying in the friendly strife they wage with antagonistic clubs. These are specimens of the river remex enthusiasticus. Now, there

is nothing extraordinary in their appearance, but wait a few minutes, until they become visible again after their short stay in the dressing-room, and then note the change. Not from chrysales to butterflies: no, by Jove! it is the other way, and in this witness of one of the peculiarities of the Putneyans. This fellow who, when he entered the yard, bore some distant resemblance to a Christian; what is he like now, except one of the remex tribe. Now look at him-a terribly seedy straw hat, of no particular shape, but apparently cosmopolitan in its ideas, as it combines the styles of every head-dress in Europe, and some in Asia, shades his massive brow; a large coarse woollen guernsey envelopes his body, and a pair of (to use a mild expression), very much soiled flannels, conceals his legs, but being, we hope, ashamed of the dirtiness of these last (flannels we mean, not legs), he endeavours to expose as little as possible, to the view, by covering the upper part with his guernsey, none too clean either, while the lower is tucked up to his knees, thus exposing his manly calves to the evening breeze. (He has been known on one occasion to promenade the town in this light and airy costume on a Sunday evening, just after the service was over, but this, we must beg you to observe, is an exceptional instance.) His crew is not complete, so he whiles away the time until they arrive, by sucking energetically a meerschaum, from the mouth of which issues a cloud of smoke. By this you may discover, gentle reader, that our friend is not in training for a match; it is death without benefit of clergy, for a man engaged in any forthcoming rowing

contest, to be seen near a tobacco shop even. Heaven only knows the punishment decreed to the man who is discovered inhaling the smoke of the fragrant weed.

The gentleman in the guernsey, who is entirely unconscious of the personal remarks we have been making, contemplatively watches the rings of smoke, as they ascend, for a few moments, and then joins a knot of his friends, with, if possible, still dirtier trousers, who are congregated round a post that ornaments the entrance to the yard. They resemble each other very strongly, all these men, especially as regards the wonderful shapes of their hats; in fact, we believe, it to be a point of honour for a rowing man not to wear a hat that a scarecrow would condescend to accept as a head covering. Now is the rowing man in his glory, exposed to the admiring (?) gaze of those ladies who may have the temerity to dare the perils of the passage through the crowd, in order to reach the green banks of the river farther up. "Jones's new outrigger," "the form and speed of the London Eight," "our chance of winning the Metropolitan Cup," occupy their time, until their respective crews are complete, when after carrying their boat down to the river, the least agreeable part of an oarman's functions, we are told, and launching her, they take their seats, not, however, without some little (we are sorry to say), swearing from the coxswain, who wishes to be off, as they are late. This last-mentioned personage, though a shrimp în size, compared to his crew, rates them in no measured terms, for their slowness; he wears a very imposing pea jacket, which looks as though it had been thoroughly wetted, rolled in feathers, and retaining a large portion of fluff, dried by the simple process of sitting upon it. Listen to him. "Now, bow, are you going to be all night altering that stretcher.' “Look alive, No. 5, can't you see the other boats are waiting to get off." Now, are you ready? Get forwardpaddle all." No sleeping now; no need to urge the men to be brisk. See how the boat bounds forward from the strokes of eight oars, moving as one, and all the strength of eight as fine fellows as you would meet on a summer's day. The waves rush in little ripples along the sides, as the boat darts along, and leaves a bright silvery track behind. "Over your toes, 7, get well forward, and pull it through," the little coxswain shouts, as seated in the stern, he holds the reins of office. We watch her until she

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is out of sight, creeping under the bank. Never mind our laughing, old fellows, at your extraordinary dress, and queer ideas of the proper length of your lower garments, we are proud of you, nevertheless; representing as you do, the mass of men who prefer working like horses for the honour of your club, and the glory of rowing, to spending your time leaning on the rails in the park, and endeavour to derive nutriment from the handles of your canes, as is the custom of the loungers. Though we laugh at you, we reserve the right of defending you against the laugh of any people not "of us."

But here comes an individual for whom we have no sympathy, and in whom cannot pride ourselves. Cry havoc, then, and let slip the dogs of ridicule. This is the man, who, with all the failings of his species, all the looseness of appearance and dirtiness of apparel, does not unite one of its virtues. Making a point of arriving at the boathouse an hour after all the working men have started, he lounges about trying to induce any novice who may be lingering about to row him out, promising his victims the benefit of his good advice and coaching, while he reclines luxuriously in the stern, handling lazily the rudder lines. He a coach. May the Gods preserve us from the benefit of his instructions. He certainly can talk well, but as to his ever putting his impossible theories into practice, as soon expect Magog to nod.

When the boat that first started comes in after a paddle up to the Eyot and a good spurt down, he will accost one of the men

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Hallo, Smith! your fellows are not half up to the mark to-night; saw them coming round the point regularly done up-No. 4 hadn't a breath left in him, and the others were all out of time-weren't pulling an ounce; you'll have to work them up, or you won't stand a shadow of a chance." This from a man who never did a real stroke of pulling in his life, and has about as much knowledge of real rowing as a sea-bear has of trigonometry. He is punctual at all the meetings, and certainly does more than his share of the talking, to counterbalance his doing considerably less of the work; but as to his taking part in the rowing matches with other clubs, that he is so enthusiastic in forwarding, beyond shouting and criticising, catch him at it. On the day of the race he will be certainly most busy, offering suggestions that no one takes, and making important

remarks that no one heeds, and thus he fulfils his obligations to the club that he boasts so much of, and the colours he does so much to uphold. This, readers, is the remex simulatus.

There is one more specimen we wish to introduce before we close the paper, and here he comes with two ladies nautically attired. The remex lenis, ladies and gentlemen. Mark the contrast in his appearance to the two samples already submitted. This is the dandy rower. Note the cleanliness of his apparel, the whiteness of his trousers, the pristine elegance of his pea jacket, and the glossy brownness of his boots; his riband has not passed through the holy baptism of

sun.

;

water; bright the colours shine, as if they had just left the loom. Superior to the remex simulatus he has to yield the palm to the others. No long pulls up to Kingston or down from Oxford for him not for him the honourable masks of labour in the noble cause; his hands are never blistered by the rough handle of the oar, or his brow burnt by the scorching He does his spiriting gently, and dreads a blistered, scarred hand as he would the marks of leprosy. The height of his ambition is certainly a laudable one from a feminine point of view; but the remex tribe, not being composed mainly of the weaker sex (although there are a few of these wandering about), he is not regarded in the favourable light he thinks he deserves to be looked upon in. It is pleasant to paddle about for an hour with a boat load of ladies, and to be lionised as a member of the club, "that won the challenge cup at Henley, you know;" but it is not rowing, and the gentleman is like the jackdaw, strutting about in borrowed plumes and reaping the benefit of the exertions of those men he is not man enough (we are compelled to say it) to assist.

Daintily he grasps the sculls as after assisting the ladies he takes his seat in the boat; grasps them by the tips as if he were afraid of them, and then, wiping them carefully with a white cambric handkerchief, commences the arduous task of pulling about half a mile, which he accomplishes in half an hour, and then pleading fatigue, allows the boat to drift home, taking great care on landing that he does not soil his spotless boots. He is of about as much use to his club as the last mentioned, though he certainly is more ornamental, but compared to our unclean friend, the remex enthusiasticus,

he is as a Balaclava dragoon to a Horseguard blue; in fact a regular feather-bed warrior.

We must not omit to mention, however, a greater attraction to visitors than any we have yet touched upon; one that we had intended to reserve as une derniere ressource. if the inducements already offered. and to be offered, proved insufficient to effect our purpose, but we think an account of the amphibious inhabitants of Putney would be incomplete without a word of a crew who are a credit to our town and their sex, and upon whom may Neptune shower his brightest smiles.

Many an oarsman's heart

Beats quickly as their azure barge shoots by, Propelled by the fair and rounded arms That pull the oars with measured sweep in time. Their drooping flag that dips with every stroke Bears on its cluster'd folds the sea bird's name, And carries devastation far more vast Into men's hearts, than ever raven bore Though waving o'er the ships of fierce Norsemen. "The Charming Crew" they are christened; and they do charm and enliven our river, and our prayer is that they may long continue to grace it. If this, the picture we have drawn, does not draw visitors in shoals we will confess ourselves disappointed, but will endeavour, nevertheless, in another paper to continue the list of Putney attractions.

A Woman's Farewell.

And has it come to this at last?
And you, with passive face,
Can calmnly tell your perjur'd tale—
My doom and your disgrace;
Can calmly utter words, whose pain
Burns deep into my very brain.

And after all that you have been
To me, and I to you;

After those whispered words and oaths,
Can it be-is it—true,

That you and I must both forget,
And live as if we had not met?

You bid me banish from my heart
Thy memory and thy love;
That love that lit my being up,
Like sunshine from above;
That love I strove so hard to win,
And which my whole soul gloried in.

Think you that women love men thus?
Think you that I can tear
From out my heart, the treasur'd truth,
So long has rested there?
That with a few fond sighs and tears,
Caanf de the hopes and love of years?

Alas! such bonds as held us two
Are not so lightly lost;
And in my heart's drear, aching void,
I find it to my cost,

That only to me now remain
Long torturing days and nights of pain.

You tell me that "the old, old love, Winds round your heartstrings still; No other touch, no other voice,

Can ever make them thrill; But that the heartless world's decree Dooms us to endless misery."

Call you that love, that shrinks when pride

Uprears its fiend crest? That weighs the verdict of the world Against the soul's unrest? Call you that love? I only know That we, we women, love not so.

God's made a weapon of my love
To scourge me for my sin,
As, more than in my hopes of heav'n,
Thy love I gloried in ;

And now, amid thy ner veless doubt,
My sin at last has found me out.

Farewell! I will not bid you stay,
Nor keep you from the strife;
Go forth into the world, and boast

You've wrecked a poor girl's life; And while they you with laurels crown, Forget the heart you've crushed down."

THE Metropolitan regatta was inaugurated on Tuesday the 14th inst., at Putney, and gave every satisfaction to the promoters, the spectators, and those engaged in the races. The prizes were the most magnificent ever offered to rowing men, and were presented on board the "Maria Wood, at the close of the regatta, by Alderman Gabriel in consequence of the Lord Mayor being attacked by illness. In the October number we will give a full account of the proceedings, as we are pressed for space in this

number.

A TESTIMONIAL was presented to the Rev. J. Byng, of Twickenham, on the occasion of his marriage, which took place on August 4th. It consisted of a massive silver salver and a purse of one hundred sovereigns, subscribed for by his parishioners, by whom he is universally esteemed. The salver bore a suitable inscription, and was beautifully chased; and the whole formed an elegant testimonial to the reverend gentleman, who, on receiving it, expressed the gratification its presentation afforded him, as bearing witness of the good feeling with which he is regarded by his flock.

COMMON SENSE.

To have common sense among its articles will readily be allowed to be an advantage to a magazine at any stage of its progress, but especially at that critical moment of its existence when it is making its first claim on the attention of the reading public. The wide circle of subjects treated of in the literature of the day-the heights scaled, or attempted to be scaled-the depths sounded or attempted to be sounded-the abstractions into which writers are led in their efforts to seize what is above ordinary apprehension, orto give a wide basis to narrow party views, are a prolific source of that aberration from common sense, which if applicable mainly to common subjects, may, as we shall have occasion to observe, be applied to much that is above the common. As it is not our purpose to attempt anything to which the sense of the community at large cannot be applied we are able to sing the praises of the valuable quality in question with far less fear of losing sight of it, than if embarked on those theories and speculations, in which philosophers sometimes lose themselves and bewilder their readers.

What is implied in the term "common sense, may be more easily conceived than described. We have a general idea of it as reasoning and acting from experience, as an adherence in everything to what is known to be true, and is palpable to the senses. As the faculty, in a word, which every one employs in the common affairs of life when it is his interest to arrive at a right conclusion. But it is apt to be regarded as dealing too exclusively with common subjects, and as inappropriate to any other, as being an infinitesimal part of the higher faculties, but too deficient in power to be of any service in the topics. whereon they are employed. We would place it on higher grounds, and regard it as differing from the finer sense in nature, rather than degree, and as having a perfection of its own, totally distinct from that of genius; but applicable to the same class of subjects. We would define it as the faculty of applying general knowledge in particular directions, as the native power of judgment, sharpened by observation, and applied even to questions on which it has no

technical knowledge. This view of the subject may seem to involve a contradiction, inasmuch as it assumes common sense to be an arbiter on matters which are above common comprehension. But we are assuming that there may be a difference between common sense and the sense of common people. The power to judge deep questions is, indeed, uncommon; but just as we might say that arithmetic is the commonest of all sciences, but that there is not one in a thousand who can be called an arithmetician, so may we say that the application of knowledge which consitutes common sense, is the most universal of all mental operations, but that not one in a thousand can carry it into any but common subjects.

Without technical knowledge, it must be allowed that the abstractions of arts and science are beyond its reach; but all true criticism, of which there is so much, that is independent of technical knowledge, is a function of common sense, and in accordance with what has been stated as its nature and method of operation. It may not be able to judge of the highest merits of a picture-imagination, taste, special culture, with none of which it is necessarily connected, are requisite to form the accomplished critic; but how much still remains that may be judged by one accustomed to the observation of nature, though he may know nothing of art.

Common sense may not be able to decide the claims to pre-eminence of poets like Homer and Dante. It has no theory of poetry by which to try their comparative worth; but it has its own, not altogether inaccurate, method of comparison-that of simply taking the effect each has produced on the world, as the measure of its merits. In questions relating to the well-being of life, its influence is strikingly displayed. In medicine, for instance, to what are the great improvements of late years to be ascribed, but to the influence of common sense, that has abolished old-fashioned nostrums and practices, and reasoned on the treatment of the invalid, from general analogy, rather than from the stand point of special science. And while letting light and air into the sick chamber, hitherto inaccessible to those influences, into what other subjects it has let them, it is not our purpose to enquire, for fear of rendering ourselves respon

sible for the deeds of those zealots, who, in their eagerness to let light and air into the structure of special opinion have not been contented with taking down the shutters, but have pulled down the walls.

Specially is common sense applicable to the imaginative literature of the day-to the unmasking the defects, and negativing the evil influences of that portion of it, which, while pretending to give correct views of life, detail events and characters within no one's experience, for the sake of creating a sensation; and which if it contains nothing directly immoral, contains much that is indirectly so-calculated as it is to warp the judgment, and render the mind accessible to worse influences still. Such delineations, falsely claiming to be founded on experience and observation come directly within the jurisdiction of that faculty, of whose operation these are the bases. Unfortunately the functions of common sense are too often suspended while the imagination is excited; and such productions gain the mastery over the mind, in which state, as during sleep, the most fantastic, as well as immoral, thoughts find a free field for development.

One peculiar function of common sense seems to be the pointing out whatever may be absurd, impossible, or inexpedient, in what comes under its notice -the refuting generally whatever is untrue, within certain limits-which limits are co-extensive with the knowledge on which it founds its conclusions. No question, however high or deep, but comes at some time or another under its judgment. All have to pass a preliminary examination before the bar of common sense. It says to the philosopher, or whoever makes a demand on its belief, "I have perhaps but few facts, but they are irrefragable-does your theory contradict them? If it do, you are convicted of unsoundness at the outset." The well established facts by which common sense is enabled to detect falsities, give it immense power, of the negative kind. These facts are its divining rod, which points, not to where gold, but to where only rubbish is concealed in the ground of speculation, and even under these conditions is a valuable instrument in the hands of the speculator, in search of the precious. metal. But as knowledge increases, the sphere of common sense enlarges. It

may yet get beyond rudimentary truths; and through the wisdom acquired by the accretion of facts, arrive at something of a positive power, and becomes itself a discoverer. This positive power it at present possesses in the common business of life-it is only over unsubstantiated theories which it can refute, wherever it can prove them to controvert known facts, that it has not a positive one. By the acquisition of knowledge it comes to act on a higher plain, from which truths become more and more obvious; and are consequently brought more and more within the scope of common sense alone.

It must not, however, be forgotten while dwelling on the praises of common sense, that men actuated by its principles, and adhering to its conditions, according to their lights, have been led into grave errors. Such doctrines as, that the sun goes round the earth, and not the earth round the sun-that the world is flat, and similar scientific absurdities, have been maintained by those who, in times past, adhered to what they saw and believed to be true, and denied all assertions to the contrary. Nor can they be blamed for judging from what was apparently true, and was, and what is still, in a certain sense a truth, before science had shown that appearance and reality are often different things. There may be things even now unmistakably true, according to our percep tion, which science may some day or other show to be delusions; and which we are blameable, not for holding, but for unduly insisting on. With our more advanced knowledge we are enabled to see where those who denied such proved truths went wrong-that they were transgressing the limits of common sense, as at present fixed, by denying scientific assertions, without showing that these assertions contradicted scientfic axioms. Common sense now requires us to judge every question on its own grounds, and can only judge absolutely when the grounds of its judgment are those on which well ascertained truths are founded.

Common sense being a thing of growth, we may hope to arrive at such a perfection of it as neither to assert nor deny anything very wide of the truth. It grows upon fact and by the experience and power derived from the