That an over-attention to the adornment of the person is a barbarism all must allow; but that the pride which prompts the Esquimaux to stuff bits of stone through a hole in his cheek, is a jot less refined than that which urges the dowager-duchess to thrust coloured crystals through a hole in her ear, certainly requires a peculiar kind of mental squint to perceive.  Surely there is as great a want of refinement among us, in this respect, as among the natives of New Zealand.  Why rush for subjects for civilisation to the back woods of America, when thousands may be found, any fine afternoon, in Regent-street?  Why fly to Biddy Salamander and Bulkabra, when the Queen of Beauty and Count D’Orsay have equally urgent claims on the attention and sympathies of the civiliser?

On the subject of civilisation, two questions naturally present themselves—­the one, what is civilisation?—­the other, have we such a superabundance of that commodity among us, that we should think about exporting it?  To the former question, the journal especially devoted to the subject has, to the best of our belief, never condescended a reply; although, like the celebrated argument on the colour of the chameleon, no two persons, perhaps, have the same idea of it.  In what then, does civilisation consist, and how is it to be generally promoted?  Does it, as Sir E.L.  B——­ would doubtlessly assure us, does it lie in a strict adherence to the last month’s fashions; and is it to be propagated throughout the world only by missionaries from Nugee’s, and by the universal dissemination of curling-tongs and Macassar—­patent leather boots and opera hats—­white cambric pocket-handkerchiefs and lavender-water?  Or, does it consist, as the Countess of B——­ would endeavour to convince us, in abstaining from partaking twice of fish, and from eating peas with the knife? and is it to be made common among mankind only by distributing silver forks and finger-glasses to barbarians, and printing the Book of Etiquette for gratuitous circulation among them?  Or, is it, as the mild and humane Judge P——­ would prove to us, a necessary result of the Statutes at Large; and can it be rendered universal only by sending out Jack Ketch as a missionary—­by the introduction of rope-walks in foreign parts, and the erection of gallows all over the world?  Or, is it, as the Archbishop of Canterbury contests, to be achieved solely by the dissemination of bishops, and by diffusing among the poor benighted negroes the blessings of sermons, tithes, and church rates?  Christianity, it has, on the other hand, been asserted, is the only practical system of civilisation; but this is manifestly the idea of a visionary.  For ourselves, we must confess we incline to the opposite opinion; and think either the bishops or Jack Ketch (we hardly know which we prefer) by far the more rational means.  Indeed, when we consider the high state of civilisation which this country has attained, and imagine for an instant the awful amount of distress which would necessarily accrue from the general practice of Christianity among us, even for a week, it is clear that the idea never could be entertained by any moral or religious, mind.  A week’s Christianity in England!  What would become of the lawyer, and parsons?  It is too terrible to contemplate.