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er, he took his gun, repaired to her house, and deliberately shot her dea d The misguided man is to be tried at the next assizes. He acknowledges the act of which he was guilty, but declares that he shot the devil under the form of the wicked hag.

SIR FRANCIS BULLER

while pupil to Mr. Coulthard, uncle to the Graham of Lincoln's Inn, having bought a fiddle, was addressed as follows by the special pleader just alluded to:-"I would advise you, young man, to part with your kit, for music is so enticing, that, if you take to it, you will never endeavour to comprehend Coke upon Littleton." Mr. Buller took the hint ; and became a judge!

GASCON'S DINNER FOR A WEEK. Are you Frenchman enough to know bow a Gascon sustains his family for a week :

Dimanche, une esclanche ;
Lundi, froide et salade ;
Mardi, j'aime la grillade ; -
Mercredi, hachee;

Jeudi, bon pour la capillotade;
Vendredi, point de gras;

Samedi, qu'on me casse les os, et les chiens creveront des restes de mon mouton.

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he should not have thought of their use.--Among several, he may mention three inplaster of the London Pharmacopoeia have stances in which the opium and cumin proved conspicuously serviceable. first, a case of obstinate rheumatism, fixed upon the large mass of muscular fibres that are connected with the movements of the back and lower limbs; the second, one of chronic inflammation of the membrane

lining the bowels; and the third, an instance of atrophy, in which the prevailing irritation was so great as imperiously to require opium, while the idiosyncracy of the patient was such as to forbid its internal

use.*

Now, in these examples of beneficial result, what has been the modus operandi? Is a warm and anodyne plaster to rheumatic muscles a mechanical support to their fibres? If so, one should anticipate the cutaneous nerves, or the cutaneous aban equal effect from mere bandage. Are sorbents, parts of the series through which the mitigation of pain or the subduction of irritation are brought about? In that case, what becomes of our theory, that the outer skin whilst unabraded forms a barrier against the admission of things from without? And why cannot we effect the same good through the media of the stomach and internal absorbents? The fact is, that vital circumstance, either in orderly manifestation or irregular display, presents us with a constant puzzle to ingenuity and employment of thought; and we are apt, by entering with too much eagerness into seeming openings for solution, to pursue less speculation. their tract into confusing labyrinths of use

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Bingley's Roman History, 12mo. 7s.World in Miniature, (South Sea Islands,) 2 vols. 18mo. 12s.-Natural History of Quad

System of Education, (French,) 2 vols. rupeds, 12mo. 4s.-Black's Paidophilean 12mo. 6s 6d.-Stocker's Alteration in the London Pharmacopoeia, Svo. 5s.-Graham on Epilepsy, 8vo. 2s. 6d.

* All practitioners of medicine will occasionally have met with these peculiar susceptibilities to certain drugs, and indeed to articles of diet. Many individuals, even with a powerful stomach generally, can never eat with impunity of some kinds of meat, which are abstractedly easy of digestion; and to some persons the smallest conceivable quantity of opium proves absolutely poisonous.

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Ten years ago, ten years ago,

Life was to us a fairy scene;
And the keen blasts of worldly woe

Had sered not then its pathway green.
Youth and its thousand dreams were ours,
Feelings we ne'er can know again ;
Unwither'd hopes, unwasted powers,
And frames unworn by mortal pain.
Such was the bright and genial flow
Of life with us-ten years ago!

II.

Time has not blanch'd a single hair

That clusters round thy forehead now: Nor bath the cankering touch of care

Left even one furrow on thy brow. Thine eyes are blue as when we met, In love's deep truth, in earlier years; Thy cheek of rose is blooming yet,

Though sometimes stain'd by secret tears;
But where, oh where's the spirit's glow,}
That shone through all—ten years ago?
III.

I too am changed-I scarce know why-
Can feel each flagging pulse decay;
And youth and health, and visions high,
Melt like a wreath of snow away;
Time cannot sure have wrought the ill;
Though worn in this world's sick'ning strife,

In soul and form, I linger still

In the first summer month of life;

Yet journey on my path below,
Oh! how unlike-ten years ago!

IV.

But look not thus-I would not give
The wreck of hopes that thou must share,

To bid those joyous hours revive

When all around me seem'd so fair. We've wander❜d on in sunny weather,

57 ATHENEUM VOL. 1. 2d series.

Wordsworth.

When winds were low, and flowers in bloom, And hand in hand have kept together,

And still will keep, 'mid storm and gloom ; Endear'd by ties we could not know When life was young-ten years ago!

V.

Has Fortune frown'd? Her frowns were vain,
For hearts like ours she could not chill;
Have friends proved false? Their love might wane,
But ours grew fonder, firmer still.

Twin barks on this world's changing wave,
Stedfast in calms, in tempests tried ;
In concert still our fate we'll brave,
Together cleave life's fitful tide;

. Nor mourn, whatever winds may blow,
Youth's first wild dreams-ten years ago!
VI.

Have we not knelt beside his bed,

And watch'd our first-born blossom die?
Hoped, till the shade of hope had fled,
Then wept till feeling's fount was dry?
Was it not sweet, in that dark hour,

To think, 'mid mutual tears and sighs,
Our bud had left its earthly bower,
And burst to bloom in Paradise?
What to the thought that sooth'd that woe
Were heartless joys-ten years ago!

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(Mon. Mag.)

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BRIDAL.

That she was lovely, aye, and lov'd as ever,

HE Night before the Bridal, a
"THE
Spanish Tale, and other Poems, And spread his arms to fold again her form

To his false heart, and riot in each charm;
But she sprung from his grasp, and answer'd “ Never!

o never,-so heaven witness me !—shalt thou
Thy perjur'd arms, thou base one, round me throw.”

She stood,-oh! how shall I describe her!—how
Pourtray her bearing, as she towering stood,
With eye of lightning, brow to which the blood

Rush'd vengeful red,-high breast and swelling vein,
Lip mute with its unutterable disdain.

*

*

*

*

He shrunk beneath the vengeance of her eye,
There was nought earthly like to it. A cry,—
A craven cry,-escap'd him: he had met
His foe undaunted, so would meet him yet ;
Defied, and even woo'd, the frown of fate;
But he had never brav'd a woman's hate;
And that subdu'd hím. Never till that hour
Had he felt fear come o'er him: he had need,

Had fac'd the battle in its darkest lower,

by Catherine Grace Garnet," rises far above the common class of poetical productions with which the press is teeming. The versification, if not remarkable for its elegance, is never tame and insipid, and the story is well imag. ined. A young Sevillian lady is doomed from her infancy to become the resident of a cloister; she even takes the vows,-but still remains in her father's house until he departs for the wars. In the mean time, Helena (the name of the heroine,) becomes acquainted with a young cavalier of the name of Leontio; they become lovers although there is no lawful hope for either the consequence of this is, that Helena yields herself to Leontio's guilty passion the very night before he sets off in company with her father: Merciful God! ah no, not on his breast, she is immediately immersed in her convent. Don Miguel, her father, falls in battle. Leontio returns,-falls Around her form,-nor mov'd, nor look'd, nor in love with a young rich heiress, of the name of Inez,-woos her, and is accepted. Helena hears of this, and, maddened at the news, sends a letter to her seducer, entreating him to meet her, the night before the bridal, in the deserted house of her deceased parent. He comes, and sees her in all her charms, seated in a magnificent apartment: his heart at first seems to soften, but it soon regains its wonted tone :

How could he chide her kneeling there, so full
Of grief, and shame, and unabated love;
With her white arms, so long and beautiful,
Wound closely round him? How could he reprove
That fondness which, if it, alas! had grown
To crime, had sinn'd for him, and him alone?
Yet he did chide her, and ignobly strove
To cast all guilt from his unmanly soul,
And heap on her the infamy of the whole.
He has not deem'd she own'd a heart so frail,
He thought her shielded by a vestal's veil;
What was his crime? Love in her bosom burn'd,
And mutual passion he for hers return'd.
'Twas idle now against the past to rail,
'Twas but a youthful error, and no more;
Hush'd in their hearts, 'twould pass all silent o'er;
The world would hear nought of it,-why then waste
One precious hour in grieving o'er the past?
He swore to her,-cold sensualist! how he swore,-

For she had nerv'd her sinews for a deed,-
How shall I write it forth from her dark vest
Flash'd the bright steel,-'twas rais'd,-'twas aim'd,
-it fell.

But to the earth. Her heart was woman's still,-
The thought was murd'rous, but she could not kill.
The conflict past, she fell,-her dark hair wreath'd

breath'd.

*

*

Inez, on her bridal morn, anxiously awaits the coming of Leontio; but he does not appear. At last she is informed by a menial that his body, covered with wounds, had been found near the towers of Alcazar: she instantly falls lifeless. Seville is in an uproar on account of this murder: Leontio had been seen the preceding night to enter the gate of Don Miguel: thither rush the crowds, they seek Helena :

And there she sat ! the dying lamp gleam'd faint
Upon her figure; language cannot paint
Her marble look,-her desolate despair;
Nor their transfix'd amaze to find her there,
Like tenant of the tomb; she whom they had

thought

To have found there with guilt and shame o'er-
wrought.

They trac'd no sign of fear,-but guilt, deep guilį,
Glared all around her: at her feet there lay
That gleaming poniard, jewell'd at the hilt,
But bloodless; that avail'd not, there it lay:
Was it fit instrument for maiden's hand?
Upon the board that silver cup did stand,
As he had drain'd it: winę and viands rare
In house of mourning spread,-what did they there'

She is siezed, and brought to trial, where she vehemently asserts that she is intirely innocent of the deed: her protestations, however, avail her not,— she is condemned and executed. Many years pass away, till one night the priest who attended her in her last moments, is called to visit the couch of a dying man, and to hear his confession :-

He lay in slumber, if such could be call'd
A frightful sleep that every eye appall'd;
His blue lips mov'd, his glassy eye-balls roll'd
And his hand grappled with the curtains' fold.

He confesses himself to be a noble of the first rank, who had aspired to the hand of Inez, but, being supplanted by Leontio, he in revenge caused him to

be murdered.

I 'scaped the vengeance of the laws,—one fell Of my foul crime the victim innocent.

But that guilt clung to me where'er I went,
Making my soul its own fierce burning hell.
Is there no hope for me? O father, say.
The priest had turn'd in sickening ear away,
And o'er his brow his shrouding garb had flung,
Still on his ear the dark confession rung ;

He thought on that yet well remember'd day,

And on the parting words of Helena ;

How to the last she had asserted clear

Her innocence. He turn'd him,-what lay there? The murderer's corse stretch'd on its gorgeous bier. Loud roll'd the storm; one broad sulphureous flame Flash'd through the chamber, and then redly came Full on that couch. The features of the dead Glared in the light one moment,-then were spread O'er them those pale and livid hues that come

Faintly to show the secrets of the tomb.

Thus ends the poem: the specimens which we have given of it speak for themselves; they require no panegyrist, and cannot fail to recommend the entire work to universal favour.

THE OWL.

BY BERNARD BARTON, THE QUAKER POET.

BIRD of the solemn midnight hour!
Thy Poet's emblem be;

If arms might be the Muse's dower,
His crest were found in thee:
Though fippant wits thy dulness blame,
And Superstition fondly frame

Fresh omens for thy song:-
With me thou art a favourite bird,
Of habits, hours, and haunts preferr'd
To day's more noisy throng.

Are not thy habits grave and sage,
Thyself beseeming well,
Like hermit's in his hermitage,
Or nun's in convent cell?
Secluded as an anchorite,
Thou spend'st the hours of garish light
In silence and alone:

(Eclectic Review, July.)

'Twere well if nuns and hermits spent
Their days in dreams as innocent,
As thine, my bird, have flown.
Are not the hours to thee most dear,
Those which my bosom thrill ?
Evening-whose charms my spirits cheer,
And Night, more glorious still.
I love to see thee slowly glide
Along the dark wood's leafy side,

On undulating wing,

So noiseless in thy dream-like flight, Thou seem'st more like a phantom sprite, Than like a living thing.

I love to hear thy hooting cry,
At midnight's solemn hour,
On gusty breezes sweeping by,

And feel its utmost power:
From Nature's depths it seems to come,
When other oracles are dumb;
And eloquent its sound,
Asserting Night's majestic sway,
And bearing Fancy far away

To solitudes profound;

To wild, secluded haunts of thine,
Which hoary eld reveres ;
To ivied turret, mould'ring shrine,
Gray with the lapse of years;
To hollow trees by lightning scath'd;
To cavern'd rocks, whose roots are bath'd
By some sequester'd stream;

To tangled wood, and briery brake,
Where only Echo seems awake

To answer to thy scream.

While habits, hours, and haunts so lone

And lofty, blend with thee,

Well may'st thou, bird of night! be prone
To touch thought's nobler key;
To waken feelings undefin'd,
And bring home to the Poet's mind,
Who frames his Vigil-Lay,
Visions of higher musings born,
And fancies brighter than adorn

His own ephem❜ral day.

(Lond. Lit. Gaz.)

SIX MONTHS IN MEXICO.

BY WM. BULLOCK.

WE continue our extracts from this interesting volume without furher preface. On the road between

Vera Cruz and Mexico,

"Xalapa, or Jalapa, from which the wellknown drug takes its name, was till within the last century the great mart of New Spain for European goods.

All merchan

dise arriving at Vera Cruz (the unhealthi ness of which prevented merchants from stopping there) was brought on mules to the great annual fair held in this city, and attended by all the mercantile interests of this part of the world. The opening of the grand mart took place amid much form and religious ceremony; prayers and processions were made by the clergy for the success of trade, but they expected some remuneration for this service and the nu. merous churches and rich religious establishments amply attest the liberality of the merchants. The city at present contains 13,000 inhabitants; but at the time of the fair it was crowded to excess. It is probably decreasing in population, though still a very handsome place. It has many two storied houses, built after the old Spanish manner, forming a square, and enclosing a court planted with trees and flowers, and having a well or fountain. The roofs are tiled, and not flat as in Vera Cruz, yet projecting from the sides, sheltering the house from the sun in hot weather, and keeping it dry in the rainy season. Many are furnished with glass windows, and most have an ornamental grating in front of those on the ground floor, which admits a free circulation of air-for the climate is so delightful as seldom to require their being closed. There are still eight churches of a mixed style of architecture; they are kept clean

and the interiors highly decorated with carving, gilding, and painting. The high altar of the Cathedral is of silver, and the walls are covered with gilt ornaments.-There are eleven other altars; and the ser

vice is performed in an orderly and impressive manner. I attended high mass on Sunday, which was very splendid; all the females above the very lowest class wear black, and are dressed alike, with a handsome lace veil over the head, but which is seldom worn over the face; in this respect retaining less of the manner of the mother country than is still to be found in Antwerp and in the Netherlands, although so long a period has elapsed since these countries were subject to Spain. A great proportion of the congregation were Indians, who had come to market, and it was really a pleasing sight to observe with what attention and devotion this simple and innocent people, the descendants of cannibal ancestors, performed their acknowledgements to their Creator. All the convents and religious

houses, except one, are now closed, and

We met yester

will probably remain so. day, it being Lent, a religious procession, carrying a figure of Christ bearing his cross. The streets through which it passed had been swept, watered, and strewed with orange leaves and flowers; and many of the houses had small crosses, 'decorated with flowers and drapery, placed over the doors.

"The shops and warehouses do not make a showy appearance, as nothing is The barbers' exposed in the windows. shops, however, form an exception: they are very numerous, and have a very respectable exterior. Mambrino's helmet is All sported as a sign over their doors. being three or four hundred per cent.above articles of European manufacture are dear, the cost price, and generally of the worst kind. This is probably owing to the policy of Old Spain in compelling the provinces to receive all supplies from the mother country.TM

"Xalapa is justly celebrated for the excellency of its washing: I never saw linen look so well; many of the inhabitants of Vera Cruz send hither to have their washing done. Near one of the entrances is a fountain of the purest water supplying a public washhouse, called Techacupa, in which 144 persons can be employed at the same time. Each washerwoman is supplied with a constant stream, conveyed by pipes to a stone vessel in which the linen is soaked. Added to this, is a flat stone on which they wash, and this constitutes the whole apparatus. The operation is perlinen is rubbed by the hand as in England. formed with cold water and soap, and the I observed that the women had a cut lemon with which they sometimes rubbed the clothes.

"Both men and women in general are very ill-informed with respect to the state of Europe. They believe the continent to be under the dominion of Spain; that Eng

land, France, Italy, Holland, Germany, &c. are only so many paltry states or provinces to which the king of Spain appoints governors, who superintend the manufactories, &c. for the benefit of that country. I found lady asked me where a muslin dress had it dangerous to contradict this flintly. One been made ?" in England;' and bow came it here?' probably through Spain,' the workshop of Spain? Many think that I replied; well then, what is England but the riches of Spain enable the others, and as they call them, the poorer parts of Europe to live.

little as of its general state; and even the "Of the wars in Europe they know as in Xalapa, though they had heard indeed name of Wellington seemed scarcely known of the buccaneers, and spoke of our illus

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