per pound for all that is seized, a reward which is the more attractive to the officers on the frontiers for the reason that it is paid down and without any discount.  Formerly the confiscated tea was sold at public auction on the condition that the buyer should carry it over the frontier; Russian officers were appointed to take charge of it and deliver it in some Prussian frontier town in order to be sure of its being carried out of the country.  The consequence was that the tea was regularly carried back again into Poland the following night, most frequently by the Russian officers themselves.  In order to apply a radical cure to this evil, destruction by fire was decreed as the fate of all tea that should be seized thereafter.  Thus it is that from 20,000 to 40,000 pounds are yearly destroyed in the chief city of the province.  About this the official story is, that it is tea smuggled from Prussia, while the truth is that it is usually nothing but brown paper or damaged tea that is consumed by the fire.  In the first place the Russian officials are too rational to burn up good tea, when by chance a real confiscation of that article has taken place; in such a case the gentlemen take the tea, and put upon the burning pile an equal weight of brown paper or rags done up to resemble genuine packages.  In the second place, it is mostly damaged or useless tea that is seized.  The premium for seizures being so high, the custom-house officers themselves cause Polish Jews to buy up quantities of worthless stuff and bring it over the lines for the express purpose of being seized.  The time and place for smuggling it are agreed upon.  The officer lies in wait with a third person whom he takes with him.  The Jew comes with the goods, is hailed by the officer and takes to flight.  The officer pursues the fugitive, but cannot reach him, and fires his musket after him.  Hereupon the Jew drops the package which the officer takes and carries to the office, where he gets his reward.  The witness whom he has with him—­by accident of course—­testifies to the zeal of his exertions, fruitless though they were, for the seizure of the unknown smuggler.  The smuggler afterward receives from the officer the stipulated portion of the reward.  This trick is constantly practiced along the frontier, and to meet the demand the Prussian dealers keep stocks of good-for-nothing tea, which they sell generally at five silver groschen (12-1/2 cents) a pound.”

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More of Leigh Hunt.[1]

Although a large portion, perhaps more than half, of these volumes has been given to the world in previous publications, yet the work carries this recommendation with it, that it presents in an accessible and consecutive form a great deal of that felicitous portrait-painting, hit off in a few words, that pleasant anecdote, and cheerful wisdom, which lie scattered about in books not now readily to be met with, and which will be