The Goddess of Curiosity led Columbus by the nose a much greater way than ever she led a much greater fool, viz. myself. Nevertheless, I had enough of his inquisitive disposition to draw me, last week, from my "bed of asphodel” (in plain English, my soft bottomed ottoman) towards that part of America which has just been translated to Piccadilly. The importance into which the Mexican empire is now rising seems to have been deeply felt and duly weighed by Mr. Bullock. He has consulted his own interest in the public gratification, and I have no doubt will even tually fill his own pockets quite as full as our heads, by means of his exhibition. Amongst the many nongratuitous establishments of the same kind within the metropolis, Bullock's Museum, in my mind, certainly holds the first place: there is a spirit of philosophy embarked in it which raises it far above the standard of a common exhibition. We are introduced neither to a painted city or a solitary landscape, to an army of soldiers or a company of wild beasts, to a giantess or a dwarf, but to the natural world itself, as it exists, or at least to a fac-simile of it, as palpable and familiar as art can make it. I know of nothing short of a bonafide dishumation of the city of Mexico, and its suburbs, from their place among the Andes, carrying with them, at the same time, their live and dead stock, together with their overhanging firmament and surrounding scenery, which could represent these objects so effectually as an exhibition constructed on the plan of Mr. Bullock's. Some time ago I

had the pleasure of descending into the Catacombs of Egypt in my way to Hyde-park, and shortly after took a morning's walk to the Esquimaux, returning in time for dinner to my lodgings at St. James's. Thus, for a few pence, I was enabled to satisfy my curiosity, without either travelling to Grand Cairo, like the Spectator, or making a voyage to the North Seas, like Captain Parry. This power of changing our horizon without changing our latitude we owe to Mr. Bullock; and I sincerely hope he will live long enough to give us a view of every thing worth seeing on the habitable globe, until it may be said that the whole world has shifted, piecemeal, through the two great rooms in Piccadilly.

Upon entering these chambers, last week, I appeared to have left the Old World outside the door; I had taken a " Trip to Mexico" without even the ceremony of asking Neptune for a soft wave, or Eolus for a fair wind; I had, in fact, stepped from Burlington-arcade into the middle of America. Every thing was new; nothing reminded me of Old England,-save and except that I had to pay half-a-crown for a couple of sixpenny catalogues, whereby my voyage to Mexico cost me nearly double what it ought. This forcibly reminded me that I could not be very far from Westminster-abbey, and that Great Britain's local deity, Mammon, in the shape of a door-keeper, was still close at my elbow, picking my pocket. However, even Charon expects a penny for rowing us over the Styx,-and why should not Mr. Bullock receive forty times as much for taking us over more than forty times as wide a water--the Atlantic Ocean?

Upon walking into the upper room, which contains the reliques of Ancient Mexico, I was mightily struck by the close resemblance many of them bore to the antiquities of Egypt. There was a Zodiac of Denderah, under the title of the Great Kalendar Stone of Mexico, and otherwise known to the Indians by the name of Montezuma's Watch. It weighs five tons, and I cannot help remarking, that if Montezuma's breeches pocket was proportional to his watch, and Montezuma himself proportional to

his breeches, Montezuma must have been a very great man indeed. In the centre of the stone is the Sun, round which the Seasons are represented in hieroglyphics, outside of which again are the names of the eighteen Mexican months of twenty days each, making up a year of 368 days. It would appear from this that the Mexicans had made some advances in astronomy, when Cortez and his priests reduced them by civilization to their primitive state of ignorance. Then there is the statue of an Azteck Princess; the lady is represented sitting on her feet, her hands rest on her knees, and give her the appearance of the front of the Egyptian Sphinx, to which the resemblance of the head-dress greatly contributes. A bust of a female in lava looks very like the Isis of Old Nile, with a crown of turretry on her head. Canopus, also, the round-bellied divinity of the East, stands here in the shape of a stone pitcher; and some hieroglyphical paintings of the Ancient Mexicans, on paper of Maguey, or prepared deer-skin, add considerably to the circumstantial evidence afforded by the other objects. But the most remarkable proof in support of the hypothesis that the Mexicans and Egyptians were formerly but one people, is the existence of the pyramids in the valley of Otumba, about thirty miles from Mexico. One of these is higher than the third of the great pyramids at Ghiza. They are called Teocalli, are surrounded by smaller ones, consist of several stories, and are composed of clay mixed with small stones, being encased with a thick wall of amygdaloid, just in the manner of the structures at Cairo and Saharah. Taking the above hypothesis as established by these resemblances, the much contested question concerning the purpose for which these artificial mountains were constructed is at once set to rest, by the Mexican tradition, which assigns them as the mausolea, or burialplaces of their ancestors. A miniature pyramid, about four feet high, in a corner of the room, gives the 'spectator a good idea of these monstrous types of human vanity.-At the west-end of the same (which is fitted up so as to convey some notion of the Temple of Mexico) is a colossal Rattle-snake, in the

room

act of swallowing a female victim; this Idol of the people is confronted by another amiable figure, at the east-end, representing Teoamiqui, the goddess of war. Her form is partly human, and the rest divided between rattle-snake and tiger. The goddess has moreover adorned her charms with a necklace composed of human hearts, hands, and sculls; and before her is placed the great Sacrifi cial Altar, on the top of which is a deep groove where the victim was laid by the priest. This, and many other objects in the room, are sculptured with a degree of precision and ele gance, the more surprising as the use of iron was unknown to Mexico, when invaded by the Spaniards.

In the lower room is a panoramic view of the city of Modern Mexico, with a copious assortment of the animal, vegetable, mineral, and artificial productions of that kingdom: the aloe, the cactus, the maguey (called by Purchass, the "tree of wonders") the tunnal or prickly pear tree, the cacao, the banana, &c.; humming-birds as small as humble-bees, and frogs as big as lit tle children; Spanish cavaliers in wax, and dolphins of all colours but the true ones; native gold and silver, with many other less attractive valuables. But to me the most interesting object in this collection of foreign curiosities, was a living specimen, of the Mexican Indian,-Jose Cayetana Ponce de Leon,-whose fa mily name, by the bye, being that of the discoverer of Florida, is not a little contradictory of his alleged Indian descent. He is in the costume of his country, has a fine, sun-burnt, intelligent countenance, wears his hair a la mode de sauvage, down in his eyes, and his hat, like a quaker, on the top of his head. He appears sensible, and is very communicative; several pretty women entered into conversation with him while I was there, and he supported the ordeal firmly, notwithstanding the brightness of their eyes and the swiftness of their tongues. If you are fluent in Spanish, Italian, or the vernacular Mexican, go and speak to him your➡ self, in any or all of these languages. For my part, I "can no more (as we say in a tragedy) at present. Your's, my dear Editor,

"

JACOB GOOSEQUILL.

chance has doomed them, by constituting themselves stepmothers unto every child of genius, but who, want ing one faculty of their favorite quadrupeds, that of seeing in the dark, are forced to kindle their wicks from every passing lamplighter, had heard of his acquirements and achievements, and throughout the West End of London for six whole days chaunted the praises of the youthful prodigy. Nothing at all like him had ever been heard of, since the week before. On the strength of his reputation he betook himself to diplomacy; and in those days amongst the dreams of his ambition built up for himself a ladder, at the top of which he was to step into an undersecretaryship. Sometimes too the House of Commons acted a part therein, standing before him like a dim misty vision of Babel, wherein he might hope before he died to add to the confusion of tongues. But long since these aspiring hopes withered and perished. The wear and tear of half a dozen years in an office, and the glitter and fritter' of half a dozen years in literary coteries, have a good deal changed his character and his views. The dust-cloud of his ambition has sunk to the ground, and he is now content to become a fixture at his desk, and to be confined like soda water in its stone bottles, provided he may occasionally explode in a sarcastic or scurrilous article for the Quarterly Review. By such means he brings himself back to the recollection of his ancient patronesses; Hargrave's very clever attack on some enemy to church and state is talked of until the dust begins to tinge the cover wherein it is wrapt; and he has more than once obtained a smile of approbation from the minister whose cause he has been maintaining.

Not that Hargrave was originally hard-hearted, or even ill-natured. In society he is companionable, lively, can toss a jest lightly to and fro, or sharpen the point of a story, and, if he were not somewhat too flippant at times, might be called exceedingly pleasant. But when he takes his pen in hand, the hues of his mind deepen, the tones grow louder and harsher. He feels within himself no consciousness of strength; he cannot therefore be calm; but tries to conceal

He is

his weakness by his violence. afraid that his wit will be blunt, unless it is perpetually drawing blood. There is much too in the circumstances of his life, which has tended to deaden all that ever was kindly about him, and which threatens before long to reduce him unto a state not unlike that of the nettle, when he will sting every body whom he touches, unless he be grasped strongly and somewhat roughly. His occupation is not one that fosters a healthy and genial temperament of the mind; it is without the satisfaction that arises from a free voluntary subjugation of the will under the law of duty, for it is almost without the characteristics of free-agency; it is too menial and too mechanical; no visible, tangible, lasting result brings with it the comfort and delight always felt at the contemplation of that which is our own offspring, a portion of ourselves sent forth upon the waves of time and space. He is ever toiling, but no trace of his toil remains; for he is only one of the least important wheels in the enormous machine whereby the administration of England is carried on. He writes or transcribes what others dictate, and when his task is accomplished, his papers are made over to his neighbour, who turns them to account and then puts them into the fire. No wonder then that Hargrave is delighted to behold himself in print, and when some metaphor or sarcasm of his own meets his eye a month after its issuing from his brain, no wonder he welcomes it as an earnest and promise of immortality.

Add to this that the society, wherewith he is now chiefly conversant, is merely superficial and altogether barren. The never-ceasing friction going on therein grinds all the feelings to powder. His family live in a distant county; his occupations in Downing-street have estranged him from all with whom he had been most intimate at school or college; and it is very rarely that any thing like friendship takes root at a later period of life, unless it be from the participation in some action of moment or some great endurance. But from all such violent influences Hargrave was sheltered; and there is no