The groupes and incidents in the streets will amuse the spectator. There is _Policinel_--the eternal Punch--with his audience, a short distance from the Cathedral. All over Europe, the most enlightened portion of the world, is this little _Motley_ to be seen frolicking with flashes of satire; the motto for his proscenium should be _hic et ubique_. One of the beauties of this Panorama is the masterly effect of _the Italian_ sky. There are fewer cloudless days in Italy than the stranger may imagine, but Mr. Burford was fortunate in his season. * * * * * SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS. * * * * * CHIT CHAT OF THE DAY. There is a good share of pleasant patter in the following abridged from the _Metropolitan_. "Every one says that I am an odd person; I presume I am, and so is every one else taken singly. I can prove that by Cocker. One and one make two--two is even, one is odd, I am but one. There's logic for you. I am also a rambler by temperament. I ramble my person at my own free will, and my mind rambles quite indifferent as to its intimate connexion with the former. I look at the stars, and my thoughts are of women--I look at the earth, and my thoughts run upon heaven--I frequent the opera, and moralize upon the world and its vanities--I sit in my pew at church, and my thoughts ramble every where in spite of my endeavours and those of the parson to boot--I live in town all the year, because it's the fashion to be here in the season, and because I prefer London most when I can walk about where there is nobody to interrupt me. In the season, I am allowed to walk into every body's house, very often get an invite to fill up an odd corner, and as there generally is an odd corner at every party, and I do not stand at a short notice, I eat more good dinners than most people. I am not a fool, and yet not too clever, so that poised in that happy medium, I hear all, see all, know a great deal of what is going on, and hold my tongue. When people inhabit their town houses, I spend the whole day going from one to the other. I consider a house the only safe part of the metropolis. Were I to frequent the street during the season, I am so apt to fall into a brown study, that I'm certain to be jostled until I am black and blue--I have found myself calculating an arithmetical problem at a crossing, and have not been aware of my danger until a pair of greys sixteen hands high in full trot have snorted in my face--I am an idler by profession, live at a club, sleep at chambers, and have just sufficient means to pay my way and indulge my disposition. But I've not stated why I particularly like town when it is empty. It is because I feel relieved of all the fashionable et ceteras. By the time the season is over I am tired of dinners, of wine, of the opera, the eternal announcement of visiters at parties and balls, the music, the exotics, the suppers, the rattling of carriages,