the extreme susceptibility of your feelings. Your sensibility and the frankness of your disposition will find many admirers; but to pull your own hair has at best but an affected and theatrical look. The practice common to many of the choleric--that of taking off their hats, flinging them at the first object they see, and then kicking them, regardless of expense--is one that seems to have arisen out of an instinctive feeling, but until lately it was to be condemned as ruinous to those who fall very frequently into a passion; it is less exceptionable now; the cheap hats are immense conveniences to the choleric. It is better however to snatch a friend's off his head, and set your foot upon it, taking care to pick it up immediately, tenderly putting it into shape a little, brushing its injured nap, and returning it with your unfeigned regrets. I should not omit to mention one ingenious expedient, which is sure to produce a speedy relief to over-excited feelings. It is recommended on authority, as infallible. You should first lock the door of your sitting-room, and then lie down on your back upon the rug before the fire--taking at the same time one of the long bell-ropes in either hand. In this position you will find a little violent pulling very pleasant. But don't leave off, merely because everybody in the house comes rattling at the door, desiring to know, not for their own, but for Heaven's sake, what's the matter. Keep on tugging at both bells, until the door is broken open--you will then come-to quite comfortably. The great have some advantages over the humble, but they lack the luxury of giving a loose to rage at all seasons; they cannot storm and rave at their own sweet will; while the lowest creature committed to prison by the magistrate can always spring from the grasp of the constable and break a window or two. This may seem a poor relief; not so; there is, doubtless, an exquisite satisfaction in knowing that nothing less than a large county must pay the damage. Suppose you only shatter a dozen panes, or effect other wilful injury, is there not something grand in being revenged upon Middlesex, or venting your fury on all Yorkshire? Great or humble, Rage is sweet to all. Anger, not Love, is the universal emotion. The mildest and most even-tempered man I ever met, let out the secret of his fiery disposition the other day, and betrayed the violent passions that sometimes seize him. Complaining of the extreme smallness of his new library, in a figurative style, at once emphatic and elegant, he said, "It isn't large enough to swing a cat in," adding, (evidently with a reference to his habits when under the influence of passion) "_which is very inconvenient_!" Cats are useful animals in a house. Is it doubtful, when Sir Anthony Absolute had stormed at the Captain, and the Captain in consequence had raved at Fag, and Fag in due succession had pummelled the footboy, that the footboy went forthwith and kicked the cat? L. B.