with a grateful recollection of the threefold strength with which your successive unions might have enabled you to discourse most eloquently in the defence of our much calumniated sex."-" Madam," rejoined the Doctor, "I dorejoice, yes, verily, and I will glory in the happiness of mylot-to your Ladyship Ileave, then since it must be so, the justification of those women who have debased their holiest interests, and brought disgrace upon their sex, misery upon their husbands, dishonour upon their families, and infamy on themselves. But before your Ladyship avow yourself the patroness of such accumulated guilt, I beg to call your reflection to one certain result of its frequency, in which you may perhaps be induced to admit some consciousness of personal concern. A flippant levity before marriage is not unlikely to throw suspicion over those views which it has long been the custom to conclude are the most prominent in the honest expectations of every spinster; and it is not an uncommon thing for men who would make good husbands to confess that it is a quality in a single woman which to them always acts with a repulsiveinfluence, however it may serve to catch the more unwary flutterer among those who mistake assurance for fashion, and impertinence for wit. "I cry your mercy, good Doctor!" exclaimed Lady S-, with her large eyes unusually extended in an affected stare of astonishment; "I forgot that the sententious cynics of the age have lately been nibbing their pens a-fresh, and adding a larger portion of gall to their ink, for the profound purpose of proving that vice is vicious and guilt criminal; but I was not before aware, until I had heard it pronounced by the lips of one of those tender-hearted gentlemen, that vice is to be attached to views not expressed, or guilt attributable by inference to what has not yet taken the character of criminality. The wise men of Gotham, who mistook the reflected image of the Moon for a. cheese at the bottom of a river, were Solomons to such sapient censors, who, filled with the gross imagery of their owngrovelling imaginations, would rake even the virgin beams of Luna herself to obtain food for their hungry malignity." -At this rejoinder, the Reverend opponent of Lady S erected himself into the whole length of his form, and as the cobra di capella raises itself from its folds, prepared to make its ve

nomous attack upon some hapless intru der, so rose the Doctor with equal menace to reply; but the Poet perceiving the meditated mischief, hastened to rescue the destined victim from its baneful effects." Tantæne animis carlestibus ira! I implore a parley be tween the conflicting powers. Lady S-, we must admire the poignancy of your repartees. And for you, Reve rend Sir, we must be equally sensible of your wisdom and charity, which called them forth: but allow me to remind you, that the tale has been stopped in its progress, and I am willing to hope, that in its continuance we may enjoy something not less amusive than what your talents at disputation can furnish. I would, therefore, with the permission of the company, request Mr. L- to go on with his relation." -" Most certainly," said the Lecturer, "I am entirely at your service; but I must plead my claim to your attention, and your guarantee from farther interruption, otherwise I fear that, like Sterne's tale of the King of Bohemia and his Castles, my story will not get farther than the beginning, before it will be time to separate. Arrived at his quarters, Col. V found a letter brought by a soldier from the General of his division, requesting to see him as early in the morning as possible. The picquet guard had taken the surviving bravo to the next in command, in the absence of Don Alonzo; the man had made a confession of the whole affair, and the officer had thought it incumbent upon him to send him to the general, who, understanding that Col. V - had attended the Lady Lady to her family, sent for him that he might be made acquainted with the circumstances, and regulate his conduct accordingly. At break of day, therefore, the Colonel hastened to headquarters; for as he intended to repair to Don Emanual Fodeya's house in the morning, he was anxious to lose no time in the interval; besides, he felt an irresistible curiosity to be made acquainted with the cause of an event that as yet appeared to have no clue of developement. As soon as he joined the General, the latter ordered the prisoner to be brought in. There was a savage air about the fellow which well accorded with his employ-a scowl of horrible malignity spoke the disappointment. of his design. There was a settled indignation in his eye while he beheld Colonel V, that shewed he was not

abashed at the remembrance of the deed which he meditated; and the stedfast features of his sallow countenance, from which he deliberately cast back his matted black hair, proved that the trade of murder was familiar to him. Prisoner,' said the General, I command you to repeat the confession which you made to me last night' - You are welcome to all that I know about the business,' replied the fellow; 'for as I have been fool enough to suffer your friend there to defeat my designs, instead of shooting him at once when he first came up, I care not what is known, or who knows it.'

(To be continued.)

RECIPES.

No. XVI.

CHOLERA MORBUS.

IN a paper read at the Society of Me

dicine, at Paris, by M. Gallereux, of Tonnere, the following mixture is represented to be very beneficial in this disease.

Take of infusion of the flowers of the red poppy, and orange flower water, of each one ounce; ipecacuanha powder, 18 grains; sulphuric ether, ten drops. Mix.

To be taken in doses of a table-spoonful every half hour, drinking freely after cach dose any demulcent fluid, acidulated with syrup of vinegar.

ON DRUNKENNESS.

drunkard; and you will most assuredly triumph.

If you are determined to be poor, be a drunkard; and you will soon be ragged and pennyless.

If you would wish to starve your family, be a drunkard: for that will consume the means of their support.

If you would be spunged on by knaves, be a drunkard; and that will make their task easy.

If you wish to be robbed, be a drunkard; which will enable the thief to do it with more safety.

If you wish to blunt your senses, be a drunkard; and you will soon be more stupid than an ass.

If you would become a fool, be a drunkard; and you will soon lose your understanding.

If you wish to incapacitate yourself from rational intercourse, be a drunkard; for that will render you wholly unfit for it.

If you wish all your prospects in life to be clouded, be a drunkord; and they will soon be dark enough.

If you would destro your body, be a drunkard; as drunkenness is the mother of disease.

If you mean to ruin your soul, be a drunkard: that you may be excluded from Heaven.

If you are resolved on suicide, be a drunkard; that being a sure mode of destruction.

If you would expose both your folly and secrets, be a drunkard; and they will soon run out while the liquor runs in.

SHAKSPEARE. All the crimes on earth do not destroy so many of the human race, nor alienate so much property, as DRUNKENNESS

LORD BACON,

you wish to be always thirsty, be a drunkard; for the oftener and more you drink, the oftener and more thirsty you will be.

If you seek to prevent your friends raising you in the world, be a drunkard; for that will defeat all their efforts.

If you would effectually counteract your own attempts to do well, be a drunkard; and you will not be disappointed. if f you wish to repel the endeavours of the whole human race to raise you to character, credit, and prosperity, be a

If you would get rid of your money without knowing how, be a drunkard; and it will vanish insensibly.

If you would have no resource when past labour but a workhouse, be a drunkard; and you will be unable to provide any.

If you are determined to expel all domestic harmony from your house, be a drunkard: and discord, with all her evil train, will soon enter.

If you would be always under strong suspicion, be a drunkard: for, little as you think it, all agree that those who steal from themselves and families will rob others.

If you would be reduced to the neces sity of shunning your creditors, be a

If you like the amusements of a court of conscience, be a drunkard; and you may be often gratified.

If you would be a dead weight on the community, and "cumber the ground," be a drunkard; for that will render you useless, helpless, burdensome, and expensive

If you would be a nuisance, be a drunkard; for the approach of a drunk. ard is like that of a dunghill.

If you would be odious to your family and friends, be a drunkard; and you will soon be more than disagreeable.

If you would be a pest to society, be a drunkard; and you will be avoided as infectious.

If you dread reformation of your faults, be a drunkard; and you will be impervious to all admonition.

if you would smash windows, break the peace, get your bones broken, tumble under carts and horses, and be locked up in watch-houses, be a drunkard; and it will be strange if you do not suc

ceed.

Finally, If you are determined to be utterly destroyed, in estate, body, and soul, be a drunkard; and you will soon know that it is impossible to adopt a more effectual means to accomplish your-END.

DRUNKENNESS expels reason-drowns the memory-defaces beauty-diminishes strength-inflames the bloodcauses internal, external, and incurable wounds-Is a witch to the senses, a devil to the soul, a thief to the pursethe beggar's companion, a wife's woe, and children's sorrow-makes a strong man weak, and a wise man a fool. He is worse than a beast, and is a selfmurderer, who drinks to other's good heaith, and robs himself of his own.

Fly drunkenness, whose vile incontinence Takes both away the reason and the sense, Till with Circean cups thy mind possest, Leaves to be man, and wholly turns a beast.

Think, whilst thou swallow'st the capacious bowl, Thou let'st in seas to wrack and drown the soul****

***Quite leave this vice, and turn not to't again, Upon presumption of a stronger brain : For he that holds more wine than others can,

I rather count a hogshead than a man. RANDOLPH.

Te potatoes, is to leave them, after digging, exposed to the sun and air, until they are dry. This exposure generally causes them to have a bitter taste, and it may be remarked, that potatoes are never so sweet to the palate as when cooked immediately after digging. I find that when potatoes are left in large heaps or pits in the ground, that a fermentation takes place, which destroys the sweet flavour of the potatoes. In order to prevent that fermentation, and to preserve them from losing the original fine and pleasant flavour, iny plan is (and which experience proves to me to have the desired effect), to have them packed in casks, as they are digged from the ground, and to have the casks, when the potatoes are piled in them, filled up with sand or earth, taking care that it is done as speedily as possible, and that all vacant spaces in the cask are filled up by the earth or sand. The cask thus packed holds as many potatoes as it would was no earth or sand used in the packing; and as the vacant spaces of the cask of potatoes so packed are filled, the air is totally excluded, and cannot act on the potatoes, and consequently no fermentation can take place.

HE usual mode at present pracpreserve

I sailed from New York to St. Bartholomew's, and brought with me two hundred barrels of potatoes, packed in the above manner. On my arrival at the island, I found, as I expected, that the potatoes had preserved all their original sweetness of flavour; in fact, as good as when first dug, having undergone no fermentation, nor in the slightest degree affected by the bilge or close air of the ship. Some barrels of the potatoes 1 sold there, and at the neighbouring islands, for four dollars per bushel, and at the same time potatoes taken out in bulk without packing, and others that were brought there packed in casks which had not been filled up in earth, sold only for one dollar per bushel, they being injured in the passage by the bilged air and fermentation, being bitter and bad, whilst mine were perfectly sweet and dry as when dug. What remained, I shipped from St. Bartholomew's to Jamaica, where

they arrived in equal good condition, and sold at a higher price than they had brought at the former island. Some of these casks of potatoes were put into a cool cellar by the purchaser at Jamaica, and on examining them when I was leaving the island, two months after, I found that they had, in a very small degree, sprouted, but that all their original flavour was preserved.

Reflecting seriously on this discovery, it suggested to my mind the idea of proposing to the British nation a mode of supplying their West India colonies with a good and wholesome food for the negroes, and also for the white people, and which would find an additional market for the farmer at home, a valuable freight for the merchant, and a more extended market for the lumber of the North American colonies; viz. of Canada, Nova Scotia, &c.

It is well known that our ships in the West India trade, in general, go out in ballast, or not more than one-third freighted, carrying out some small quantity of European commodities; but the bulk of their freight consists of empty casks, and materials for making casks. It is also well known how valuable a food potatoes are in the West Indian islands; and how much they are prised there, no one acquainted with the West Indies and its commerce but must be aware how much labour of the unfortunate negro is at present employed in making casks, punchcous, &c, for bring ing home the produce, and of immense value casks are there at, timber imported from our North American colonies to be made into casks, hogsheads, rum-puncheons, coffee barrelis, &c. &c. &c. let these be filled in my mode, as described with potatoes, I contend, that the value of the casks which bring out potatoes, will more than compensate for their freight, and the earth will keep the casks perfectly sweet and ready, without any labour to bring home any produce. The potatoes must come cheap to market; the ship-owner can afford cheap freight-having now none, or next to none, for his outward bound vessels.

The farmers on the sea coast can easily supply more than two hundred thousand tons of potatoes, and the population of the West India islands would consume more than that quantity.

Any overplus required may be readily supplied in like manner in Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, Canada, &c. The food of

the negro is at present Indian corn and meal, which, with a small quantity of potatoes now used in the islands, was formerly principally supplied by the United states, who received in return, in cash and produce, nearly ten millions of dollars. Potatoes and fish, together with the produce of the islands, will give a much more wholesome food in a greater abundance, and at a more reasonable rate.

The policy of our legislature, surely, should be to encourage the parent state and the colonies, supplying each other in every possible manner, and to discourage aliens from reaping advantages from British capital, industry and exertion, more particularly so when by judicious arrangement both the Colonies and the mother country can have their wants supplied better from their superabundant productions than from foreign states, proper encouragement for the fisheries of Newfoundland with settles. ments for those employed in that part of the service on the coast of our settlements in North America, is indispensably necessary. Markets there are in abundance for the employment of more ships and seamen than we have now in that trade..

By my plan of preserving potatoes, a wholesome food will be provided for the West India islands, much better and cheaper than they possess at present, and a valuable freight for our outward bound shipping, which they now want. This plan will in some measure enable the merchant to have his return freight. cheaper, and thus we do away with the idea of having our islands dependant on the American states for food, we save an immense sum of money annually given to foreigners, and to the man of human feeling it must be a source of gratification to see that by this mode the severe labour of the poor black is much lightened, his condition ameliorated, and by having less occasion for his labour, aiding to abolish that horrid traffic of the Slave Trade. We find a market never before discovered for our agricultural exertions, giving healthful and beneficial employment to many families at home and abroad, and a saving to the nation at least of five hundred thousand pounds annually.

CHARLES WHITLOW. New York Coffee-house, Feb. 12, 1816. P. S. Carrots may be preserved during the winter months in the same manner.

MR. KEMBLE.

FROM the length of the State Trials

and other interesting papers, even although we gave 48 additional pages, we were not enabled to insert the following ADDRESS, which may be acceptable to our readers as an interesting document, among the many relative to Mr. KEMBLE'S Retirement from the Stage.

COPY OF THE ADDRESS

presented to J. P. KEMBLE. Esq. in the Theatre on the night of his Farewell. (Wrillen by particular request, for the occasion, by WM. CAREY.)

SIR,

AFTER having so long received from the display of your eminent abilities the greatest degree of gratification and instruction which the highest class of Histrionic representation could bestow, we think upon the near approach of your intended farewell to the Stage with sentiments of deep concern, and, if possible, an increase of respect. In justice to the interests of the Drama, and our own feelings, we would fain postpone the moment of a separation so paioful. Fitted by the endowments of Nature and by classical acquirements, by high association and the honourable ambition of excellence, you have, for upwards of thirty years, dignified the profession of an Actor, by your private conduct a and public exertions in the British Capital. We beheld, in your personification, the spirit of History and Poetry united. In embodying the characters of Shakspeare and our other Dramatic Writers, you were not contented to revive an outward show of their greatness alone. The splendour of an antique costume-the helmet and armour-the crown and sceptre-all that pertains to the insignia of command, are easily assumed. When you appeared, the habit and the man were as soul and body. The age and country, in which we live, were forgotten. Time rolled back a long succession of centuries. The grave gave up its illustrious Dead, Cities and Nations, long passed away, re-appeared; and the elder Brothers of renown, the Heroes and Statesmen, the Sages and Monarchs of other years, girt in the brightness of their shadowy glory, lived, and loved, and fought, and bled, before us. We beheld in you, not only their varying looks and Europ. Mag Val. LXXII. July 1817.

gestures, their proud march and grandeur of demeanour; but the elevated tone of their mind and the flame of their passions. We mean not here to enume

rate the various characters in which you have shone as the light of your era: but we may be allowed to say that you excelled in that which was most excellent; that wherever the grandeur of an exalted mind was united with majesty of person: wherever the noblest organ was required for the noblest expression; wherever Nature, holding up the mould of character, called for an impression from the most precious of metals, there she looked to KEMBLE as her gold; there you shone with pre-eminent lustre. In the austere dignity of Cato, the stern patriotism of Brutus, the fiery bearing of Coriolanus, and the mad intoxication of Alexander, you transported your audience in imagination, alternately to Greece, Rome, or Babylon. Seconded. by the well-painted illusion of local Scenery, you seemed every where in your native city, every where contem porary with the august edifices of the ancient world. In you, some of those great characters lived; and we cannot conceal our apprehensions, that, when you withdraw, we shall lose sight of them for a long time, and, as life is short, perhaps for ever. In expressing this sentiment, we feel a warm respect for every Actor of genius. A mind like yours would be wounded by any compliment that was not founded in the most liberal sense of general desert. It is an additional merit in you to have obtained distinction in an age of refinement, and from a public qualified to appreciate your powers. A small light. shines in darkness; but you have flourished amidst a circle of generous Competitors for fame, whose various abilities we admire; and in whose well-earned applause we proudly join. They behold, in the honours which your country pays to you, the permanence of that celebrity which they have already so deservedly acquired, and a sure pledge of the future honours which await upon the close of their professional career. We, therefore, earnestly entreat, that you will not at once deprive the Public of their gratification, and the stage of your support. We entreat of you not to take your final leave on the night named for your last performance. All we ask, is, that you will consent to per-, form a few nights each Season, so long as

D