We no more thought of dedicating a whole page to one Sir PETER LAURIE, than the zoological Mr. CROSS would think of devoting an acre of his gardens to one ass, simply because it happened to be the largest known specimen of the species. But, without knowing it, Sir PETER has given a fine illustration of the besetting selfishness of the times. Had LAURIE been born to hide his ears in a coronet, he could not have more strongly displayed the social insensibility of the day. The prosperous saddler, and the wretched, woe-begone tailor, are admirable types of the giant arrogance that dominates--of the misery that suffers. There is nothing more talked of with less consideration of its meaning and relative value than--Life. Has it not a thousand different definitions? Is it the same thing to two different men? Ask the man of independent wealth and sound body to paint Life, and what a very pretty picture he will lay before you. He lives in another world--has, as _Sir Anthony Absolute_ says, a sun and moon of his own--a realm of fairies, with attending sprites to perform his every compassable wish. To him life is a most musical monosyllable; making his heart dance, and thrilling every nerve with its so-potent harmony. Life--but especially his life--is, indeed, a sacred thing to him; and loud and deep are his praises of its miracles. Like the departed ROTHSCHILD, "he does not know a better;" certain we are, he is in no indecent haste to seek it. Demand of the prosperous man of trade--of the man of funds, and houses, and land, acquired by successful projects--what is Life? He will try to call up a philosophic look, and passing his chin through his hand--(there is a brilliant on his little finger worth at least fifty guineas)--he will answer, "Life, sir--Life has its ups and downs; but taken altogether, for my part, I think a man a great sinner, a very great sinner, who doesn't look upon life as a very pretty thing. But don't let's talk of such dry stuff--take off your glass--hang it!--no heel-taps." Ask another, whose whole soul, like a Ready Reckoner, is composed of figures,--what is Life? He, perhaps, will answer, "Why, sir, Life--if you insure at our office--is worth more than at any other establishment. We divide profits, and the rate of insurance decreases in proportion," &c. &c.; and thus you will have Life valued, by the man who sees nothing in it but a privilege to get money, as the merest article of commercial stock.