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Thermo-micrometers, with engraving, 46, 51.
Theatre, Liverpool, notices of, 4, 12, 20, 29, 40, 44, 53,
58, 65, 65, 68, 73, 81, 83, 101, 125, 128, 136, 143, 152,
193, 212, 280, 404, 413, 424, 424, 440.
Theatrical notices, 223.

Theodric, by Mr. Campbell, 327.

Thoroughfares, or right of road, 39.

"Thou art lost unto me," &c. (verses) 428.

Though tears may dim, 336.

Thrush, lines to a, by G., 420.

Townshend's sonnet, lines after reading, 4.

Trade-see Iron.

Wealth, national, Mr. M'Culloch's lecture on, 406.
Wealthy commoners in England, 287.
Webbe, Mr. prize Catch, by, 269.

Week, explanation of the days of the, 250.

Weights and measures, alterations in, 63, 163, 821—Ori-

ginal letters respecting, 190, 191.

Wet feet, precautions against, 343.

White, Henry Kirke, lines by, 380.

Tick and Sheridan, 337.

Vandenhoff, Mr. remarks on, 128, 223.

Wife, right of, to a dower, 287-How to choose a, 428.
Will, curious, 107.

Time, voice of, by G., 44-Sonnet on, by G., 80-Epi- Vapour bathing recommended for the poor, 384, 384-see Wilson, the Rev. Mr. speech of, at the meeting to establish
gram on the loss of, 80.
Tippling females, or sham poison, 364.
Toads, or frogs, in solid rock, 100, 176, 184, 291.

the Liverpool Mechanics' Institute, 438.

Wine, compound, 35-And Bark, versified, 352— Pars-
nip, 363.

Tom (blind) curious biography of, 374.
Tooth-ache, recipes for, 147, 335, 371.
Touchard's coffee-house, 350.

Winds, lines by G. on, 52.

Traill, Dr., address of, at the opening of the Liverpool

School of Arts, 430.

Translation, original, of an entire French work on geo-
logy, natural history, &c.-see Earth.-Whimsical, 67
-see French verses-see Latin.
Translations expressly for the Kaleidoscope from L'Her-
mite en Italie, 1, 8, 17, 25, 41, 57, 69, 77, 105, 113,
121, 129, 145, 153, 161, 169, 177-From the German,
18, 26, 33, 42, 50, 58, 70, 121, 135, 154, 161, 170, 238,
322.

Translation, Il Grasso, the cabinet-maker, 397.
Translations, original, paper on, 227, 231, 239, 250.
Travelling six thousand miles for a guinea, 211.
Travelling, ancient and modern, 90.
Tree, immense American, 358.

Watt, the late Mr. speech of Mr. Jeffrey, respecting, 34.

Whale, enormous, stranded, 388, 395, 401.

Trees, how to make names grow upon, 79-Subterrene, Wayte, Thomas, Esq. biographical notice of, 347, 351.
189 Remarks upon planting, 189.
Trials, ludicrous, 91.
Truth, by G. 328.

Whale found in a moss in Scotland, 189.

Whalebones (burlesque lines) 200.

Tuscany, festivals of, 57.

""Twas but a moment" (verses) 428.
Twist, Dr. Timothy, letter from, 24.
Typographical punning, 80.

V.

Vacuum, pneumatic, engine, 64.
Valentine of a sailor, 284.

Bathing.

Vegetable phenomenon, 67, 152, 192, 192.
Vermin, destruction of, 47.
Verona, journey to, 17.
Vesuvius, eruption of, 273.

Viginti and Nonaginta,conversation (in verse) between, 38.
Virtue, lines to, 200.

Walnuts recommended as medicine, 147.
Warning, giving, to a wife, 253.

Water, glass of, how to invert, without spilling, 287.
Waters of the ocean, on the mass of, 385, 393.

W.

VIVE LA BAGATELLE-Solution of conundrums, puzzles,
enigmas, &c. 7, 14, 24, 33, 40, 220, 228, 232, 244, 256,
264, 272, 277, 289-see also Gymnasia.

Volcanoes, 265, 273.
Voyages of discovery, 174, 274, 315, 399, 405, 436-see Worms, cure for, 335.
Parry and Franklin.

Wages and population, 328.

Wakes, country, and rush-bearings, 324, 328.

Winter cautions, 231-see Latin verses.

Wolves harnessed to a carriage, 439.
Woman, the essentials in a, 54.

Wood, subterraneous, in Scotland, 189.
Worcester, Marquis of, Century of Inventions, a reprint
of the whole, beginning at page 21, and continued each
week.

Year, dying, by G. 216-Retrospect of the last, 285.
York Assize week (verses) 353.

Zinc plates for engraving, 235.
Zodiacal signs-see Astronomical Signs.

Printed and published by E. SMITH and Co. 75, Lord-street, Liverpool,
and may be had gratis of their Agents in town and country.

No. 210.-VOL. V.

Kiterary and Scientific Mirror.

this familiar Miscellany, from which religious and political matters are excluded, contains a variety of original and selected Articles; comprehend ng Literature, Criticism, Men and Manners, Amusement, Elegant Extracts, Poetry, Anecdotes, Biography, Meteorology, the Drama, Arts and Sciences, Wit and Satire, Fashions, Natural History, &c. &c. forming a handsome Annual Volume, with an index and Fitle-page.-Its circulation renders it a most eligible medium for Literary and Fashionable Advertisements.-Regular supplies are forwarded weekly to the Agents, viz. LONDON-Sherwood & Burslem-S. Brougham; Co. Booksellers; E. Marl- Bury-J. Kay: borough, Newsvender; Carlisle-3. Jollie: 4share, Derb.-W. Hoon: Chester-R. Taylor; 4shton-T. Cunningham; Chorley-R. Parker; Bilston, S. Bassford; Clithero-H. Whalley; Birmingham-R.Wrightson Colne-H. Earnshaw; Bos-Kell; Brandwood; Congleton-J. Parsons; Blackar-T Rogerson; Dublin-De Joncourt and Bradford-J. Stanfield; Co. Geurl. Post-office; Bernizy-T. Sutcliffe; and the Booksellers.

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Denbigh-M. Jones;
Doncaster-C. & J. White;
Durham-Geo. Andrews;
Ellesmere-W. Baugh;
Glasgow-Robertson & Co.;
Halifax-R. Simpson;
---N. Whitley;
Hanley-T. Allbut;
Haslingden-J. Read;
Huddersfield-T. Smart;
Hull J. Perkins;

FRON L'HERMITE EN ITALIE, THE LATEST WORK OF MR. JOUY.

[Translated expressly for the Kaleidoscope.]

a

1 set out on horseback from Spezzia, accompanied by guide, and we soon arrived at Lerici, the ancient Erix, or Portus Erici of Ptolemy. This town, situated at the foot of a range of rocks, is excluded from every view except that of the sea. Its gulf is separated by a narrow beck of land from that of Spezzia. Towards sunset, we reached Sarzana, situated on the frontiers of Tuscany and the territory of Genoa, and separated from Lerici by

mountainous country, about five or six leagues in exent. Sarzana, called by the Latins Sarazana, Sergianum, nd Lama, forms a part of the Genoese territory, and ⚫ eighteen leagues distant from the city of Genoa. It ormerly belonged to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, but le ceded it in the fifteenth century to the Republic of Benoa, in exchange for a small hamlet of fishermen's pits, called Leghorn, a name still retained by the great own which now occupies the same site. Sarzana has a bull uninteresting appearance, and the houses are of a gray dusky hue, like those of most of the old towns in Italy. The most remarkable buildings are the cathedral and public palace. Near Lunenza are quarries containing a sort of marble called by the Latins lapidi lunensi. It is of the purest white, and the grain is exceedingly ine. It is so transparent that it has often been mistaken be Parian marble, the latter being even inferior to it in soklity and whiteness. The house of Benedetti, at Sarzana, built of this marble.

OR,

I passed the night at Sarzana, and the next day hired a parriage, which conveyed me to Pisa, a large and fine city p Tuscany. The quay of the Arno is the finest ornament of Pisa, has even been thought to surpass in beauty the quay the Arno at Florence. It extends in the form of a test from the gate delle Piage to that called del Mare, and presents a magnificent coup d'œil from whatever it is surveyed. Palaces and fine houses are erected this quay, which is also adorned by three bridges ing a communication between the quarters of St. fary and St. Antony. The scene is enlivened by the hermen's barks, and boats laden with merchandise, nually crossing each other upon the river, which es itself into the sea, at the distance of two or three

actars

The grass, which is permitted to grow in many of the streets, gives to the interior of the town a solitary Cismal aspect. The population, which once amounted more than a hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, How reduced to sixteen thousand. This town is very

UTILE DULCI.

Kendal-M.&R. Branthwaite; Newcastle-under-Lyme-J.Mort; Prescot-A. Ducker
Kirkby Lonsdale-J. Foster; Newcastle-u.-Tyne-S. Humble; Preston-P. Whittle;
Lancaster-J. Miller;
-Charnley;
-I. Wilcockson;
Leeds-H. Spink;
-Gisbourne; Rochdale-J. Hartley;
Manchester-Silburn & Co.; Nwich-G. Fairhurst; Sheffield-T. Orton;
J. Fletcher; T. Sowler; No tingham-C. Sutton; Shrewsbury-C. Hulbert;
and B. Wheeler;
Gem-The Postmaster; Southport-W. Garside;
Macclesfield-P. Hall;
Ormskirk-W. Garside;
Stoke-R C. Tomkinson;
Mottram-R. Wagstaff; Oswestry-W. Price;
St. Helen's-I. Sharp;
Nantwich-E. Jones;
Penrith-J. Shaw;
Stockport-J. Dawson;

"Hos parere jubent Alpheæ ab origine Pisa,
Urbs Etrusca solo. Sequitur pulcherimus Astur."

TUESDAY, JULY 6, 1824.

PRICE 34d.

ancient, and is supposed to have been founded by a Greek | tude for a prince, who had, as they said, withdrawn them
colony. The founders came from a city of Greece, of the from the tyrannical dominion of the Florentines. "We
name of Pisa, built on the shores of the river Alpheus, in owe to the French," said they, "our liberty, which is
Elis, a province of Peloponesus.
dearer to us than life, and we are determined never to be

Virgil says, speaking of Pisa, verses 179 and 180 of the separated from that generous people. Our town formerly tenth book of the Æneid:

constituted a part of the Duchy of Milan; we therefore belong to France. Let the king deign to receive us among the number of his subjects, and we will willingly they may be; but let him not abandon us to pitiless submit to the conditions he shall impose, however severe wolves, to inexorable tyrants; to the Florentines, our implacable enemies. If we cannot obtain this favour, let him at least grant us an asylum in his kingom, since we prefer exile and poverty to the horrors of servitude which would await us in our own country."

Pisa was, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a republic no less powerful than that of Genoa. She then made conquests in Africa and the Mediterranean, possessed herself of Carthage, and took from the Sarrasins the Balearic Isles, Corsica, and Sardinia. She sustained long wars with the Florentines and Genoese, to whom she finally owed the destruction of her power.

Stockport-T. Claye
Ulverston-J. Soulby
Wakefield-Mrs. Hurst;
Warrington--J. Harrison
Welchpool-R. Owen;
Whitchurch-R. Parker;
Wigan-Lyon and Co.;

J. Brown;
Wrexham-J. Painter;
York-W.Alexander.

Pisa is situated in a vast, richly cultivated, and popu-
lous plain. The marshes which once infected the purity
of the air, have been drained, and its climate is now
esteemed one of the finest in Italy, the extremes both of
heat and cold being less frequent than at Florence.

Snow never falls there, and the frost does not continue
above eight days in the year. It is usual, in the months
of December and January, to dine with the windows open,
and the mild spring weather begins as early as the month deavouring to persuade the people to submit by promises

Whilst the captains, affected by this appeal, were en

of February. The heats of summer are constantly tem-
pered by the sea winds.

to alleviate the severity of their fate, the gates of the hall
were thrown open, and five hundred young girls, dressed
in white, and with dishevelled hair, entered, conducted by
feet of the two envoys, conjured them to remember the
two venerable matrons, and throwing themselves at the
solomn oath they had taken, on receiving the order of
chivalry, to be the defenders of the fair sex, and not to
abandon them to the brutality of their enemies. Arbou-
ville and Mortemar bent their eyes to the ground, much
embarressed, and attempted to withdraw, but these young
girls, surrounding them, dragged them before an image
of the Virgin, and would not allow them to depart, until
they had moved them to tears by the earnestness of their
entreaties.
loaded with presents, and related what they had seen and
The envoys then returned to their camp,
heard.

A village of the name of San-Pietro is built upon the land formerly bathed by the waves of the ancient port, w ich fell in o ruin, when fortune and the Mediterranear deserted it. A large loose stone, in the middle of the nave of the parish church, designates the spot, where, according to tradition, Saint Peter landed and fastened the anchor of his vessel, when he visited Pisa, one of the first towns where Christianity was established. The Florentines deprived the inhabitants of Pisa of their liberty and government in 1406. Charles the Eighth, at the time of his journey into Italy, assisted them in recovering both; but, in 1609, they again lost them; and have, from that time, remained in the power of the Grand Dukes of Tuscany.

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In 1500, Lewis the Twelfth, in conformity with his promise to assist the Florentines in their attempts upon Pisa, lent them 6,000 good infantry and a large body of cavalry. Determined to allow the inhabitants of Pisa no quarter, the Florentines insisted upon choosing their general themselves, and demanded of the King of France Hugh de Beaumont, as a man whose stern and inflexible character rendered him a fit instrument of their animosity.

a people who opposed to them arms like these, but though It was difficult for an army of French soldiers to attack the principal officers wished the assault to be deferred until further orders were received from the king, Beaumont persisted in his resolution to invest the town. He could not, however, prevent a friendly intercourse from being established between the besiegers and the besieged. All the French soldiers who presented themselves at the gates, either during the day, or in the night time, were hospitably entertained, and often dismissed with wine and meat for their comrades in the camp. When the attack was commenced, the inhabitants pointed out to them the places upon which the cannons of the town were to fire, in order that they might avoid them. Some assaults were made, but little slaughter was committed. The soldiers by degrees abandoned their posts, until the desertion became so general, that Beaumont was obliged to retire with his Having arrived before Pisa, Beaumont sent D'Arbou- army in the night time, leaving the sick and wounded at ville and Hector de Mortemar, two of his principal cap-the mercy of the besieged. The inhabitants of Pisa, attains, to summon the inhabitants, in the name of the tracted by the groans uttered by the disabled soldiers upon king, to return to the yoke of their former masters. The seeing their comrades depart from them, came out from magistrates received the envoys with great ceremony, and the gates of the city, carrying torchies, and removed these led them to the town-hall. They there shewed them the wretched men into the town, where they bestowed upon portrait of Charles the Eighth, honourably placed under them every care necessary for the re-establishment of their a canopy, and surrounded by the emblems of their grati- health. They then permitted them to return to Milan,

,nd furnished them with money for their journey, still expressing to them their desire to belong to France.

We

must do Napoleon the justice to own that less entreaty was necessary to induce him to grant a people the honour of forming a part of the great empire.

My mind continued occupied with these remembrances a I passed through the streets. I at length alighted at an inn, situated on the quay. The bridge is said to be of marble, which does not answer to the descriptions given of it. The surface of its free-stone parapets is covered to the height of at least twelve feet with pieces of marble, joined together. The inhabitants, taking a part for the whole, boast that their bridge is built of marble, and as the causeway and pavement are composed of flags of common stone, much resembling, at the first glance, unhewn marble, the deception is not easily discovered. At one extremity of the quay, near the gate of Lucca, is an immense square, part of which is occupied by the dome, baptistry, Campanile, or steeple, and, Cumpo Santo or cemetery. These four buildings are very lofty, and of great extent. They are entirely composed of white mar ble, and surrounded on the outside by antique columns of different orders, incrustated with marbles of various colours, and adorned by gothic sculptures. The Campa nite, a circular building, situated at the western extremity of the dome, is the most deserving of attention. It is a hundred and ninety feet high, and its summit inclines from its base more than forty feet; it is ornamented by seven rows of pillars. The interior staircase is so easy of ascent, that it is said to be practicable to a man on horseback. The inhabitants call this 9 Torre Rotta. Some assert that the architect sported w. his art, when he gave this tower so marked an inclination; others maintain, that after having been regularly constructed, it gradually assumed an inclined position, as the soil sunk under its weight.

The interior of the Metropolitan church is majestic; it is ornamented by seventy-six pillars, numerous basso-relievos, and paintings by the first masters. I remarked particularly a Saint Agnes, of Andrea del Sarte. The pavement is of Mosaic; the choir rises in the form of an inverted half globe, and is composed of a substance having the appearance of painted glass, penetrable to the light, and in which the rays of the sun are refracted. At the bottom of this half sphere is observed an image of the Almighty, of gigantic size, painted several centuries ago. The doors at the bottom of the church are of bronze, and covered with numerous figures moulded with them, which the inhabitants pretend to have been brought from Jerusalem by their ancestors in 1070. These figures represent traits in holy writ. The lateral doors possess nothing remarkable.

THE BACHELOR'S STORY.

[ORIGINAL.]

"Perdi una hija donzella

Que era la flor desta tierra
Cien doblas dava por ella

No me las estimo en nada."-Moorish Ballad.

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When we were fast

Zenophon, Tully, Herodotus, Homer, Virgil, Plato, Cato, and the whole host of Romans and Greeks marshalled in battle array on the tablet of my memory, but the utile was quite forgotten. Of our own history I knew little or nothing; whether the Normans conquered the Saxons, or the Saxons the Normans, I was quite ignorant. Geography was put aside; astronomy ne'er enlightened my mind; the Black Sea might unite with the Baltic, and the Wolga with the Ganges, for all that I knew about the matter: the course of the celestial bodies might have attracted my I was born in London, in the year 1775, just about the attention, but to believe that the earth moved round the breaking out of the American war. My father was re- sun, seemed to me too large a draft on my credulity. I putably established in life as a tallow-chandler, and was will not tire you with an account of my school pranks, considered by many as a man of property. He loved me, they were like those of others, and if I was a little more and I loved him, and never shall I forget the kind manner in daring than the rest of my competitors, I generally sufwhich he used to make me a small present for my own use, fered in a proportionable ratio. At sixteen I was taken though he certainly had a very queer way of tacking to from school, and homewards bent my way. My father his gift this phrase there, and don't make a beast of was then getting old, and even my mother's vast mind" yourself." He was not much informed, but was what the had fallen considerably away. By dint of diligence and world call an easy man; easily imposed upon he was, 'tis economy my father had now amassed a very handsome true; but then, he could not help mankind being vil-fortune, and one morning as I passed him on the stairs, he lains, and if he was more unfortunate than his neighbours, called after me to come up into his own room,. for I why, he could not help it-so there it might end." My want to speak to thee, my lad, about thy future welfare," mother, be it known, was completely different; in oppo- said he, with a laugh upon his face. sition to my father's corpulency, she was slim and lengthy ened up (for he had a great dislike to an open door) he in her person, and possessed what she termed a "vast commenced his harangue thus:-" Will, my boy, I am mind." This vast mind" of hers was, however, only filled old, and have scraped together more than thou'lt spend, so with scraps from badly selected novels; and armed with I don't see why I should go on in business, wasting myself every quotation from the last romance, she assaulted my for nothing-I'll shut up shop, and we'll live in some father with a vigorous display of her transcendant talents. comfortable place in the country, and thou, my lad, shall Some one had told her that every clever woman was ab- be a gentleman." Of course I did not dissent from such sent and thoughtful; she, too, would therefore be absent, a proposal; for, to tell the truth, I had a natural aversion and would frequently, in some of her reveries, overturn to business: I answered as became a dutiful child, "that the tea urn with her arm, or upset the whole tea equipage their will was mine." So the shop was shut up, and every with her foot, and she could not be brought back to her thing sold, and away we posted to our country-house, my herself, but by the cups and saucers clattering about her mother quite delighted with the change, and I myself not feet; and after being wet and scalded in every direction, less so. We had purchased the manson of a gentleman she just found out that she was not in the midst of a near the pleasant town of -, most charmingly situated, wood, but sitting down with her clump of a husband," and commanding a fine view of the river. --- as it swept as she called him, at the odious tea table. She would sit along with its rapid current. Mr. F, the gentleman up all morning, poring over the lettered page," and from whom the house was purchased, had once been feasting herself and her "vast mind" on the rich stores a very considerable merchant, but owing to a reverse of the impenetrable secret, or a romance of the sixteenth of fortune, he had been obliged to sell his estate, and live century, she would exclaim—“ Oh that I should be wedded in a more retired manner at a small house in the neighto a tallow-chandler" bourhood. The mansion had been uninhabited for some time, for the grass was on the walks, and the trees were scattering their wild branches in every direction, but still it was evident that the whole had been planned and executed in an elegant and tasteful manner.

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My father bore all this with patience (but as in my own story I should wish to adhere to truth, so in that of others the same principle ought to be observed.) I must inform you that he was rather henpecked, and feared my mother's vast tongue a great deal more than her "vast mind." They lived, however, as happily as a literate wife could live with an illiterate husband, and if they The Campo Santo, or cemetery, is about a thousand often quarrelled, they did, to do them justice, very often feet in circumference. It is rendered interesting by the agree: one point they did differ on, and had they lived to paintings, in fresco, which adorn the whole extent of its eternity, would have still differed on,-this was politics. interior walls. The figures are of the thirteenth and My father was a tory, my mother was a whig; he loved fourteenth centuries, and represent the historics of the peace, she loved war; he was contented with the then Old and New Testament, and views of Paradise, Purga-present state of affairs, she railed against thein; he sided tory, and Hell. The latter are particularly worthy of study. On one of the walls is painted the celebrated picture of Vergogna, or Modestina, who, to avoid seeing her father Noal, extended near her, naked and intoxicated, covers her eyes with her hands, the fingers of which remain separated. The dampness has spoiled most of these paintings. Copies of them may be found in a collection of engravings published by Morghen, in 1810, and the years following.

The inhabitants of Pisa affirm that the reddish earth of this cemetery, in which their dead are interred, was brought from Mount Calvary, near Jerusalem, in the twelfth century, and that it consumes the body in the course of twenty-four hours.

A vast gallery, contained in the cemetery, is bordered by ancient tombs, of which the sculpture attests the great antiquity. The inscriptions are unfortunately for the mest part illegible.

with the n.inisters, the opposed them. Amidst this clash of
opinions no wonder there were sparks; but my mother got
the better in the argument, if argument it could be called,
and in the whirlpool of liberty, rights of man, privilege
of women, tyranny, and oppression, my poor father was
lost. The only resource he had was his shop; to that he
hastened as his "sanctum sanctorum,” for there my mother
would not condescend to enter; and, shrouded in its gloom,
he dipped on in peace and quietness. Whether my father
had suffered enough from his own ignorance, or wh. ther
he imagined that the knowledge of Latin and Greek would
prevent me from enduring the yoke which he so quietly
bore, I could never determine, but he took great pains to
select for me a school where these necessary accomplish-
ments to a man of any pretensions to ability were most
completely of the greatest importance, and where every
thing else but the classics were quite neglected. I went
through the usual routine of a classical education; had

Sheltered from the northern blast by a row of stately firs, our garden bloomed in the severest weather. The ranunculus, the hyacinth, the modest lily of the valley, and the blushing anemone, were scattered in profusion over the ground. Rose trees innumerable shed their fragrance in the air; but one in particular attracted my attention: this was close under one of the windows, and, from its height and beauty, seemed to have received no common care. In a few days my father set to, got the garden cleared of its incumbrances, and again brought it into its original state. Being myself fond of exercise, I frequently (for want of better employment) busied myself in digging around the different trees, not forgetting my favourite one. I had been occupied thus one evening, and had left the earth perfectly level round the root of the finest, when, on returning in the morning to view its opening beauties, I was surprised to find the prints of feet about it. Robinson Crusoe could not have been more agitated when he saw the marks of footsteps on his barren and desolates shore, than I was then; for, upon examining them more particularly, from the size, I discovered them to be those of a female!" Perhaps 'tis the servant's?-no, no; we had but one female, and she had never such a foot as this Perhaps 'tis my mother's ?-oh, Lord, said I to myself, her foot would make six of these! Then whose could it be?-a stranger's-that's certain. But when could she come? not in the morning, for I was an early riser, and

should bave discovered her; then at night it must be, and at night I'll watch." I was communing with myself in this manner, when my father rapped me on the back, shouting in my ear, "Will, my lad, breakfast's ready."

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I immediately followed him, though curiosity had quite taken away my appetite. After breakfast I lounged up and down, just to while away the time until evening: at last, with sleeping, eating, and walking, I brought the day to a close. To put my plan into execution, I retired to bed early, and, without undressing, threw myself upon it, waiting till the fast-coming shade should deepen the gloom around me. All who know what an evening in July is, when in the country, must have observed with delight this necessary repose of nature. In the present case I felt the serenity and peace of the landscape before me come over my heart like the sweet south wind over a bed of violets;" for as I watched the yellow moon rise with her full round orb, shedding her mild lustre on the tops of the large black firs that almost surrounded our manvion, I felt a glow of pleasure and ecstacy of feeling that belongs not to this world, its cares, or its troubles. As I stood surveying this enchanting scene, my eye instinctively fell on the rose tree below me; but how my heart palpitated, and my pulse throbbed, when I beheld by the side of it a female! Just then a slight cloud passed the moon, partially obscuring her from my view; but soon the "watery veil" was withdrawn, and I had a good opportunity of viewing her figure. She appeared to be not more than seventeen or eighteen, and from the lightness and elegance of her form I judged her to be handsome. For a few minutes she remained in a pensive attitude, seemingly quite absorbed in comtemplation, but afterwards directed her attention to the rose tree, which she bent over in the most affectionate manner; then, as if something had alarmed her, she suddenly cast her eyes upon the very window in which I stood, riveted to the spot, and almost incapable of stirring a fibre. As quickly as I could I retired, hoping to escape observation, but I was deceived, for, on returning, I found she had fled.

Had she sunk in the earth, had she melted in air, "I saw not, I knew not, but nothing was there."

(From the Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle.)

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and desired, in case of his death, I would send home what "On the morning of his leaving Benin, he called me, articles could not be sold in the country, by your vessel. requested he would have the goodness to sign a few lines and he afterwards felt well enough to copy the whole himto you on the subject; I wrote them down to his dictation, self. He then wrote to his agents, Messrs. Briggs and Brothers, and was going to write to his wife, but his strength failed him. However, he desired me to bear wit

ness that he died in the fullest and most affectionate remembrance; and begged I would write to her, with this ring he then wore. He was perfectly collected, and spoke certain, and declared, when he had finished, that he was with calm fortitude of his approaching death, as an event satisfied, and committed his life and spirit to the will of

power to peruse the work, we shall present our readers "On the morning of the 2d, he begged of me, as a last
with the following sketch from a cotemporary.—Ed. Kal. request, that I would send him down to Gato, and thence
to Bolee, in the hopes of the sea breeze having a beneficial
"We are happy to announce the re-appearance of this sented, believing that a change of air might possibly have
effect; to which, although most reluctantly, I at last con-
great luminary above our northern horizon; and if his orb, some good influence, although I had but little hopes. I
in its last passage over the meridian, suffered a partial,
and but a partial obscuration, it shines forth now in full accordingly got the people ready, and sent him off at
splendour. The apprehension which from time to time eight o'clock, by R. E. Srith, intending to follow him
myself the moment the hammock bags returned from Gato.
involuntarily arises, that this extraordinary mine must at
They reached that place late at night: on the path the flux
last be exhausted, is again completely refuted. The au-arated, and on his arrival, Mr. B. although much fatigued,
thor has broke up an entirely fresh vein. Redgauntlet, conceived himself better, and appeared in very good spirits.
Peter Peebles, the blind fiddler, Joshua, and even Nanty He ate a piece of bread, and drank a cup of tea, after
Ewart, are all originals, scarcely owning among their pre- which he slept until four o'clock, when he awoke, with a
decessors any class to which they belong. The publica- dizziness in his head and coldness of the extremities, with
tion having got the start of us by a week, it could serve
familiar to nine-tenths or our readers.
no purpose now to give extracts from what must be already and continued in a quiet state until his death, suffering
a rattling in his throat. He drank some arrow-root gruel,
We cannot help, but little pain, apparently.
however, calling their attention to the boldness, spirit, and
interest of the whole work, and to the vigour with which
the characters are drawn. Old Redgauntlet, though in a
very opposite attitude, reminds us somewhat of Burley:
his readiness to support it by every engine, either of good
in the same stern and deep devotion to a lost cause, and
or of evil. There is something almost supernatural in the
deep mystery of his movements, in his dark and lofty
demeanour, even in those pacings, back and forward,
"whose funereal slowness seemed to keep time with some
current of internal
and
Poor Peter Peebles we find considered by many as the
prime ornament of the book; but though we trust our-
selves not insensible to the extraordinary merits of Peter,
particularly in some of the dialogue, yet he really appears
to us somewhat too crazy and worthless. We think, if an
upon lawsuit, been turned half crazy on this one point, it
honest, reputable, otherwise sensible person had, by lawsuit
would have had a better effect. It is understood, indeed,
that Peter is a real personage, well remembered by those
who, twenty-five years ago, were accustomed to pace the
boards of the Parliament House; but this is not to be
admitted as a full excuse; for a writer of fancy ought not
to adhere servilely to his model, but to expunge, modify,
or soften, as suits his purpose. The blind strolling fiddler
appears more perfect and pleasing. Who but must admire
that lofty pride in his art, which, even in such humble
circumstances, rises superior to any views of interest, and
makes him disdain to admit of any sssociates, however
gentle or bountiful, whom he deems unworthy to perform
along with him? His legend of Sir Robert Redgauntlet is
a wonderful flight of fancy. Then, as to Nanty Ewart,
though we do not, so much as some, admire the author's
merry scoundrels, yet a remorseful and broken-hearted
ruffian has something in it very original. There are some
fine images of the scenery of the Solway, particularly its
rapid and fearful tides, which, after the hero had been
rescued from them, were heard advancing behind, like
the roar of some immense monster defrauded of his prey."
writer flies off from letter to narrative, from narrative to
journal, and from the journal of one person to that of
another, at least it would not do for any other writer;
but as our present author is not one from whom much of
method or order was ever expected, if it keeps him better
tion to his taking such little liberties."

God.

"I arrived at Gato on the afternoon of the 4th. Mr.

Smith had already prepared the body for interment, and I went and arranged with the Governor, to bury it under the large tree that you and I cleared away last year, for a cool feet deep; it was finished at nine o'clock, when we comWe made the grave six mitted his remains to the earth, paying every mark of respect the situation and time permitted. I read the Church Service, and after the conclusion, my canoemen fired three volleys of musketry over his grave.

retreat from the heat of the sun.

"Thus finished, my dear Sir, the career of this celebrated and intrepid traveller, in the flower of his age, and enterprise, with the fullest prospect of reaching, in a shot every arrangement made for his setting out on his daring period, that famed Timbuctoo and Houssa, which have been the object of so many travellers, and in which they

have been hitherto unsuccessful and unfortunate.

I had considerable difficulty in allaying the King's jealousy, and more particularly that of the rascally Emigrams and Fieddors (that is, nobles) but at last succeeded in recovering them-got the King's messenger, the boatmy factory, and Rob and Two, to accompany

Nothing more could be done, so I jumped into bed, but not to sleep, for I had caught a glance of a dark black eye, and a raven tress on a neck of snow, which were quite sufficient to drive the drowsy god from my eyelids. I tried in ten thousand ways to account for her appearance: to find out who she was, and what she was, now became of We cannot exactly approve of the manner in which the Mr. Belzoni as far as Houssa-to wait there his return from

importance; but 'twas in vain; morning broke, and found me equally puzzled. After breakfast I set out into the village of, to make some inquiries about Mr. F-, and amongst others I called upon the gardener, who had

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swain of

Timbuctoo, and bring letters for myself and his friends in Europe, on the receipt of which I was to give my note for ing to the report the letters should give of his conduct.a fine present to the King, and to pay the messenger accordThis was the plan I mentioned to Mr. B. on his first com

lived with him prior to his reverse of fortune. From him in the spirit and trim of the story, we have really no objec-ing into the river; and on no other could he have got for

I got this information-that Mr. F- had a daughter: but I did not wait to hear any more, being quite satisfied in my own mind that she was the visitant of the rose [To be continued.]

tree.

Literature, Criticism, &c.

REDGAUNTLET.

We do not identify ourselves in any degree with the following brief critique of the last work of the Great unknown" as the author of Waverley is sometimes styled. We are certainly amongst the admirers of the extent and versatility of his talents, but we are also aware that it is too much the fashion to laud most extravagantly every thing which proceeds from his pen. Such indiscriminate and often unmerited eulogy renders it hazardous to identify ourselves with any critiques upon what are called the Scotch Novels, especially if such critiques, as in the present instance, proceed from gentlemen on the other side of the Tweed. However, as curiosity is on the alert on the subject, and as we have not yet had it in our

Biographical Notice.

THE LATE MR. BELZONI.

The following letter, containing an account of the illness and death of this celebrated traveller, was addressed to Lieut. Scott, of his Majesty's brig Swinger, by Mr. Houtson, a British trader at Benin :

"Galo, December 6, 1823. distress that I announce to you the death of our illustrious "MY DEAR SIR,It is with feelings of the deepest friend, Mr. Belzoni, who paid the debt of nature at Gato, on the 3d inst. at fifteen minutes before three p. m.

"I wrote to you from this place on the 2d, and on desfound Mr. B. much worse, with every symptom of conpatching your canoe, set off for Benin. On my arrival I firmed dysentery: from the first day of his arrival at Benin, he lost his wonted spirits, and told me the hand of death was on him: on receiving the medicine chest from Gato, on the 28th, he took large quantities of castor oil, but calomel combined with opium, until a slight salivation without any benefit. I strongly recommended a course of should be effected, but he declined it, as too hazardous in his so weakly state.

ward.

"I am still of opinion this is the only practicable path to Timbuctoo. I know the point of departure must be from some powerful King in the Gulf of Guinea, as the distance is not great, and the communication is frequent. Dahomey to Lagos, Jabos, and Benin, although less to Benin than the former. But the King's name is feared and respected to the borders of Houssa, so that I should consider myself perfectly secure, going and returning with his messenger.-I am, yours,

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LINES

"THE LOVE THAT CANNOT DIE,"

and these, in their turn, do fawn and lie and flout, and Our thanks are due to the managers for engaging Mrs. flout and fawn and lie, until one becomes disgusted out- Ogilvie, whose appearance amongst us we ha:l with a most right with their sacred majestics' most royal morality. unfeigned welcome. She is a goodly portly dame, ay Then there is the significant murmuring of the coming faith, of a pleasing look, and a most noble carriage;" indrum, which doth so affright the brave citizens of Angiers, comparably superior to any tragic actress we have seen that they straight hit upon a pretty matrimonial expedient from London, during the last three years. Immediately to save at once their boasted city, and allay the furor of on her entrance as Lady Constance, it occured to us, that incensed majesty. Blanch and the Dauphin are on the she was not an entire stranger, and we now remember hav. instant betrothed, the wily John with his hectoring per- ing witnessed her earlier efforts, once on occasion of Mr. WRITTEN AFTER READING C, H. TOWNSEND'S SONNET, ENTITLED jured brother, Philip of France, enter Angiers trium. Vandenhoff's benefit, we think, about five years since; it phantly, where all goes swimmingly on in amity, till a was consequently erroneous in us to announce the evening of busy meddling Cardinal pounces upon this loving brace this day se'nnight for her debut on our boards. Mrs. Ogil of Gud's annointed, and, by his threats and excommuni- vie's reception was extremely flattering, but not unwar cations, sets them by the ears again. To it they go in rantably so; for she certainly personated Constance, in a good earnest, the pope-loving Philip is worsted, Prince manner highly creditable to herself, and every way deserv Arthur taken prisoner, and conveyed by John to Eng-ing of the warmth with which she was greeted throughout. land; where his affectionate uncle makes especial provi. Her person is above the middle stature, well-propor sion for him-in the tower. Nav, so very paternally is tioned, and dignified; her style of acting lofty and com John concerned for his hopeful nephew, that he resolves, manding. She possesses a countenance susceptible of in mercy, to rid him of all roval cares, and concerts, with much and deep expression, particularly of the sterner kind; magnanimous Hubert "his cutting of" Hubert, however, and a voice of considerable volume and intonation, but after consenting to be his liege lord's instrument in this somewhat defectively modulated. While her face is better unholy villany, suddenly becomes humane; and, wrought calculated for the imprint of strong impassioned emotion, upon by the boy's affecting prattle, assigns the Prince an her elocution seems more adapted to the pathetic; and asylum secure from further mischief. Here the unoffend hence the reason why she pleases less in the delivery of ing urchin might have awaited in patient safety his cut such speeches as that to Austria, commencing throat relative's death, but he was of regal blood, and could brook no delay; and must needs, therefore, in attempting to save his little highness' life by flight, fall from the battlements and dislocate his roval neck. Refractory Barons, an invasion on the part of France, instigated by his holiness the Pope, and domestic broils thus fermented, at last bring John to his senses. He ackowledges again the authority of holy church, manifests some quaims of conscience, recants his errors, and is at length poisoned by a good-natured Monk; a "resolved villain," as Hubert styles him, who, we dare say, thought the King aweary of his life, and kindly undertook, with the sacrifice of his own (for he was, on this occasion, taster to the King, and "his bowels suddenly burst out") to ease his Majesty of so trou blesome an incumbrance. As he lived, so he dies-ingloriously; leaving not behind him one unsullied spot on his escutcheon, or the recollection of a single virtue to embalm his memory,

"War! War! no peace! peace is to me a war," than in the one to the Cardinal

"O, father Cardinal, I have heard you say,

That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat his bud, And chase the native beauty from his cheek, And he will look as hollow as a ghost; As dim and meagre as an ague's fit: And so he'll die; and rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, I shall not know him: therefore, never, never Must I behold my pretty Arthur more." "The Merry Monarch" was repeated on Tuesday, and went off with great eclat. Mr. Kemble's King Charles, The still gloom of a malignant monarch sits not easy Miss Kenneth's Lady Clara, Miss Cramer's Mary, and upon Mr. Vandenhoff, nor does he effectually embody the Mr. Andrew's Captain Copp, are each entitled to very quiet dignity of regal repose. He mustride the whirl respectful notice. Miss Cramer, especially, exhibited a wind and direct the storm;" the gentle zephyrs of a gaiety and archness in her acting, and an attention to the summer passion comport not with his potent agency. After general business of the scene, which hold out no small what we have seen of him, he will always appear to compromise of future excellence. Mr. Hooper is a favourite parative disadvantage in the part of King John; if we ex- of ours, and we should certainly take great pleasure in cept the scene with Hubert, where he accomplishes, with adding his name to the list of those who aid in the success such artful dexterity, his design of bringing that pliant of this favourite piece; but, truth to say, this gentlemen gentleman over to his murderous purposes, together with wofully disappointed us in his assumption of Rochester. the last final effort of struggling nature, when he enters, He either totally misconceived the part, or miserably poisoned, upon the stage. Here, in the orchard of Swin- failed in exemplying his conceptions, we know not which. stead Abbey, he was, indeed, awfully great, exhibiting an We allude more particularly to the scenes at Court; anatomically correct picture of what he described himself where his appearance was unpolished, his delivery of the to be. text vulgar, and his whole demeanour utterly irreconcileable with the manners and accomplishments of that pink of genteelity and wit he should have been. An apt scholar would have profited, we should think, from coming so closely in contact with the graceful negligence and dignified ease of Mr. Charles Kemble.

Mr Charles Kenible's second performance of Falstaff has confirmed our opinion of its decided inferiority to Dowton's. The part, as played by Mr. Kemble, is a most herculean task, and we will not, therefore, detract from the merit of so much labour by descending to particu larize its demerits: indeed, we have not space, were we even so inclined. Mr. Vandenhoff's Hotspur was wont to be considered one of his very happiest efforts. He has, of late, however, effected so much in character of a higher order, that it cannot now be thus designated. It is, notwithstanding, a finely sketched portrait, with a freshness, dash, and vigour about it strikingly characteristic and effective. Mrs. Vandenhoff presented a fine picture, in costume and appearance, of Lady Percy; as indeed she did of Lady Blanch, in King John; and we were much pleased at the testimony borne by the audience, on he We must say this lad entrance, of their good opinion. always evinces great taste in dressing her parts, and ther is also a respectful modesty in her deportment very pro possessing. On acknowledging the salutation of the au dience on the evenings in question, there was a observable quite in keeping with her assumed character. We had prepared some remarks on the enactment "The Wonder," as well as on that of "The Stranger. which, for want of room, have been reluctantly withdraw THE COUNCIL OF TEN

timidit

5th July.

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Is it the breathings of a mortal lyre?
Or heavenly harp, with inspiration's fire,
That warbles of a love that cannot die;
But in the heart, and in the "tell-tale eye,"
Holds the same language through revolving years
Unchanged; unchanging amid joy or tears;
If fortune smiles, or when her frown severe
Strikes to the soul with withering touch of fear?
Tells it of rays that must for ever shine,
Of ceaseless rivers, and of things divine?
Ah! heed it not; -a visionary strain
Never on earth was yet true passion's reign,
Where pride, ambition, interest, avarice mean,
In phantom semblance of the god is seen;
And pranking, in fantastic mock'ry drest,
Thy shadow, Love, betrays the trusting breast.
There is a love, a love that cannot die,
Born not of rosy cheek, or sparkling eye;
A love that can the maddest grief control,
Sustain the heart, and cheer the sinking soul;
A love defying misery, time, and death;
A love surpassing all the dreams of earth;
But, oh! this love in brighter region lies—
The love of God, the love that never dies.
Liverpool.

The Braina.

THE THEATRE.

"All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits, and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."

G.

It is a source of much gratification to us to be enabled to state, that throughout the whole of last week, numerous highly respectable audiences have frequented, in succession, the representation of KING JOHN, CHARLES II., THE WONDER, HENRY IV. and THE STRANGER; the latter, as the bills aver, for Mr. Charles Kemble's benefit. We rejoice to perceive the bugbear fashion, at length, fairly overcome, and surrendering at discretion. "Time was, when the brains were out," that the great amongst the little great could only visit the Theatre on certain high on nights, whatever might be the attraction as for example, supposing Monday, a fashionable, and Tuesday, an unfashionable evening; TOM THUMB on the one, would secure the attendance of more box beaux and belles, than King Lear, cast ever so strongly, on the other. This same fashion is a most capricious and preposterous thing in general, but more particularly so, when foolishly suf fered to affect taste and common sense. Who would not blush to prefer the symmetry of the crook'd back tyrant" to that of the Apollo Belvidere? and yet, such is the thing's influence, were a strife for pre-eminence to occur, and fashion award the palm to Richard, the decision would be received as proof of holy writ."

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"New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let them be unmanly yet are follow'd."

King John is not, by any means, one of Shakspeare's happiest acting tragedies; for although there are in it, as in all he ever wrote, innumerable passages of great and varied beauty, it lacks the stimulating action of both mind and body, which are necessary to keep alive and wholly absorb the attention of an audience. There is an inactive sameness in the characters that cloys; a deal of sound and fury, signifying nothing." One's ears are ever and anon" dinn'd with the shrill clamour of some two or three discordant trumpets, whose brazen tongues proclaim the approach of kingly imbecility and craft, and forth with inproduce to us the vapouring of two sceptered bullies;"

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"Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow room;
It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust,

I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Do I shrink up."

"And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold."

Faulconbridge ranks with Shakspeare's inimitable sketches of Hotspur and Mercutio, characters of which he appears to have been more than ordinarily enamoured. In Mr. Charles Kemble, the brave blunt wit has an admirable representative. He is an intrepid braggart, an abrupt audacious spirit, whose every look and act proclaim "his high descent, nor shame his noble lineage;" one would swear, intuitively, that he was of the lion hearted race. There is no withstanding his merciless raillery, and the cool sarcastic contempt with which he perpetually taunts the Duke of Austria, is positively beyond all durance: his notable brother Robert, too, comes in for a good handsome share of the "mad-cap" illegitimate's terrible witticisms. Nothing could exceed the free impudent unconcern of Mr. Kemble's bearing throughout the first act; the piquant air, particularly, of bold indifference with which he interrupted his brother's appeal to the King

"Well, Sir, by this you cannot get my land;
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother,”

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