ripides,' The gastronome of miserly habits or deficient | thoughts, I now recollect that the passage is in Eu- A SCENE IN REAL LIFE. A FRAGMENT. saddle. When the old gentleman arrived at his A SLIDE. Near the top of Mount Cenis, there is a spot where adventurous travellers sometimes descend to the town of Lans le Bourg upon a sledge, in the short space of seven minutes; whereas it takes two hours and a half to ascend in a carriage or on a mule. The precipice is really frightful, yet the English travellers frequently adopt this mode of conveyance during the winter. EXTRACTS FROM LACON. Oft have I felt delight in sharing the pleasures of his fire-side. His wife and two lovely children formed his domestic circle, and to these It is well known, that the professor's memory was would he retire after the labours of the day. retentive in an extraordinary degree; the following No duels are palatable to both parties, exHis house neatly furnished, his concerns managed with economy, he wanted for nothing him- instance of it, we believe, is not yet recorded. While at Eton, he composed a farce of harlequinade, in three cept those that are engaged in, from motives of revenge. Such duels are rare in modern self, and his friends were welcome to the fare acts, which was performed by the head boys on the times, for law has been found as efficacious which was provided for his own daily consump-foundation (of whom himself was one) in the Long for this purpose as lead, though not so expetion; happiness seemed to reign mistress over Chamber, or dormitory. Porson's dame (the lady in the little community, and each day brought with whose house he lodged) hearing of this performance, ditious, and the lingering tortures inflicted by it content and plenty. With difficulty do I tell requested a copy; the application was several times parchment, as terrible as the more summary the rest; I have since called,-found the house fruitlessly repeated, owing, we suppose, to the cha- decisions of the pistol. In all affairs of horacteristic indolence of authorship; till one day,nour, excepting those where the sole motive inhabited by strangers. The story is brief:my old friend had been unfortunate, had lost being alone with him in her parlour, she insisted that is revenge, it is curious that fear is the main his all, and more, he had become involved; his he should not leave the room till he had performed ingredient. From fear we accept a challenge, his promise; on which he seated himself, and at one and from fear we refuse it. From the false wife had fallen sick, and was with her friends-his children were divided, and himself. It sitting transcribed the whole from memory. We fear of opinion we enter the lists, or we decline have seen a copy of this dramatic curiosity; but all, to do so from the real fear of danger, or the was with difficulty that I found him in a garret. or nearly all that we remember of it, is the following moral fear of guilt. Duelling is an evil that His remorseless creditors had pursued him item in the Dramatis personæ : " Punch, MR. POR- it will be extremely difficult to eradicate, beuntil he sunk under the weight of his engage-SON!!" cause it would require a society composed of ments; he was pale and dejected; his few books such materials as are not to be found without lay before him, but beyond these scarce a fragment remained of his furniture or effects. He admixture; a society where all who are not was writing a moral lesson for his son when I christians, must at least be gentlemen, or if entered. The thoughts of his different situation neither-philosophers. forced a tear, and he sat down overcome with recollections of his former happiness and present misery. He in a few words recounted his adventures-his friends had forsaken him, he was no longer invited to the festive board, and it was obvious that he had been the object of envy among his acquaintances, and was now the victim of internal disease. I acted as an old friend, I might have said a fellow-creature, and left the scene contemplating the fickle mind of fortune, who dealt out riches and honors as by lottery-heaped favours upon the worthless -but I must not rebel. and the ignorant, while VARIETIES. | CASIMIR, KING OF POLAND. Casimir, second King of Poland, received a blow from a Polish Gentleman, named Kanarski, who had lost all he had while playing with this Prince. Scarcely was the blow given, when, sensible of the enormity of his crime, he betook himself to flight, but was soon apprehended by the king's guards. Casimir, who waited for him in silence amid his courtiers, as soon as he saw him appear, addressed him as follows: My friends, this man is less culpable SPORTING. We often read in the news-papers of the mighty exploits of our sportsmen at the battus given by noble and great land proprietors; they do not, however, eclipse former achievements in the field. In the year 1758, the Emperor Francis 1. hunted for eighteen days successively on the estates of Prince Colloredo, in Bohemia. Besides the emperor and his son, there were present three princesses, and twenty of the principal nobility, With 116,200 shots they killed 1710 wild boars, 3216 deer, 132 foxes, 13,243 hares, 29,545 partridges, 9499 pheasants, 746 larks, 9353 birds. ANECDOTES OF PROFESSOR PORSON. Porson was once travelling in a stage coach, when a young Oxonian, fresh from college, was amusing the ladies with a variety of talk, and amongst other things, with a quotation, as he said, from Sophocles. A Greek quotation, and in a coach too! roused our slumbering professor, from a kind of dog sleep, inquails, 1967 snipes, 513 wild turkeys, and 117 other a snug corner of the vehicle;-shaking his ears, and rubbing his eyes, I think, young gentleman,' said be, you favoured us just now with a quotation from Sophocles; I do not happen to recollect it there.' Oh, sir,' replied our Tyro, the quotation is word for word as I have repeated it, and in Sophocles too; but I suspect, sir, it is some time since you were at college.' The professor, applying his hand to his great coat, and taking out a small pocket edition of Sophocles, quietly asked him if he could be kind enough to show him the passage in question, in that little book; after rummaging the pages for some time, he replied, upon second ABSENCE OF MIND. The Reverend Mr. Reynolds (father of Sir Joshua Reynolds), whose moral and learned character was accompanied by so much simplicity and innocence of manners, that he was called a second Parson Adams, was remarkable for his absence of mind. Once, when he set out to pay a visit to a friend, about three miles distant from his house at Plymton, he rode in a pair of gambadoes, boots of a very peculiar make, extremely heavy, and open at the outside, so as to admit the legs of the rider, and which were attached to the CORRESPONDENCE. TO THE EDITOR, SIR," C. A." in page 96 of your 12th Number, wishes to know, why Grocers place Grasshoppers over their doors? to trace the origin of placing them in those situations is perhaps difficult to most persons, and for want of authentic record to demonstrate to the enquiring reader-conjecture ventures sometimes to state the probable causes. I, for my own part, have heard the question asked frequently, but never heard it satisfactorily explained: seeing C. A.'s request, I am induced to state my humble opinion, that the grasshopper was taken as an ornamental emblem by the grocers, in compliment to Sir Thomas Gresham, it being the crest of that most eminent merchant, who laid the foundation stone of the Royal Exchange, June 7th, 1566, and finished it November, 1567; which structure was called simply the Bourse, until the 23rd January, 1570, when Queen Elizabeth, after dining with Sir Thomas, caused it, in his presence, to be proclaimed by herald and trumpet, "The Royal Exchange." Upon the roof at each corner was two grasshoppers upon pedestals: this fabric was destroyed by the great fire in 1666, and on the 23rd October, 1667, the foundation stone of the present magnificent structure was levelled by Charles II. It is said that Sir Thomas was originally a grocer, and that by industry and proper application of talent he arose to merit the appellation of the "Royal Merchant." The grasshopper of itself is very symbolic and most apropos to grocers, whose stocks are generally produced from vegetables or plants, of which species the grasshopper may be considered as an animated production. Tradesmen generally take for ornamental signs the crest of some incorporated Company, and following this, the crest of the Grocer's Company, (a camel, Or. bearing a pack, ermine corded gules, with a bridle of the last,) would bave been applicable to those of that business, unless the grasshopper was substituted from the reasons above stated. Amongst the Athenians they were so much esteemed, that gold ones were wore in the hair, to denote their national antiquity, and the Egyptians took it for their hieroglyphic of music. I should be glad to see its origin authenticated by some of your readers. L. Manchester, May 1, 1822. P. S. Will some of your correspondents say, why do chimney sweepers adorn their signs with some of the most public buildings?-also, the origin of the barber's pole! TO THE EDITOR, SIR,-Your correspondent, subscribing himself "A Friend," is surprised at my comment upon his reply to my Query, and appears to consider his first address a sufficient answer to my enquiry to me, however, it was not satisfactory; and I therefore addressed to you the note inserted in the twelfth number of your Publication: what your correspondent finds in that note, that is so "surprising," so "captious," or, so jeering," as to occasion the ill-humour, with which he appears to have had so violent a struggle, I cannot imagine; if, however, it does contain any objectionable expression, I, too, "humbly beg pardon," and would now request his attention to a few remarks upon his last communi cation. Your correspondent doubts the accuracy of my observations; since the publication of his last address, I have repeated the experiment, and invariably find the yellow image, or spectrum, (as your correspondent unphilosophically terms it) supplanted by a green one, whose colour, becoming gradually deeper, gives place at length to a blue, which ultimately subsides into a deep violet. I am sorry to find, that in my original Query I expressed myself so vaguely, as to leave room for a doubt respecting the object of my enquiry; I did not imagine that any one would affix to it so ridiculons an idea, as the supposition, that I expected to be informed how the sensation of colour is communicated to the mind; I supposed it would be evident, that the Phenomenon proposed for explanation was simply that of the successive appearance of the prismatic colours. "an In your correspondent's solution of this Phoenomenon he states, that the optic nerve, wearied by the repeated impression of the yellow rays, seeks relief by spontaneously throwing itself into opposite sort of action," whereby a change in the colour of the image is effected. This is, to me at least, a perfectly new hypothesis: Sir Isaac Newton supposed variation of colour to originate in difference of magnitude in the various particles of light; and Euler maintained it to arise from difference in the velocities, with which the different rays cause the optic nerve to vibrate; but no where do I remember to have met with the theory advocated by "A Friend." Ingenious, however, as it is, two objections naturally present themselves, the removal of which is desirable. Printed for HURST, ROBINSON, and Co. London: and ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & Co. Edinburgh; and sold by Robinson and Ellis, and T. Sowler, Manchester. ⚫. Besides the advantage of a careful revision of the text, to itself; the notes abound in interesting and curious matter, and a new Life of Cervantes, this edition has claims peculiar and there are numerous original Translations of some of the rarest Ballads of Spanish Chivalry. This Day is Published, In the first place, I do not understand what is implied by "the different sorts of action" of the optic nerve. I am aware of the impossibility of ascertaining the precise method, in which the optic nerve BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. is affected; nor am I desirous of proposing an objection, arising from the limitation of our means of observation; but I cannot admit assumptions, evidently erroneous. I conceive the optic nerve to be elastic, and consequently capable of extension and contraction, as well as of vibratory motion; but I cannot conceive it possible to impart to it the seven different kinds of motion, necessary, according to your correspondent's hypothesis, for the production of the different prismatic colours. The elasticity of bodies is brought into action by extension and contraction; and by the alternate operation of these agents, vibratory motion may be produced; but the assertion, that the optic nerve is capable of seven different kinds of action, appears to me a mere petitio principi: unauthorized by experiment, and unsupported by analogy. No. LXIII. For April, 1822. Contents:-I. Colonel David Stewart's Sketches of the Highland Regiments.-II. Sketches of Scottish Character. No. 10. "Zachary Meldrum."-III. Stanzas on an Infant.IV. A Spanish Tale.-V. " Sufficient unto the Day is the Evil thereof."-VI. The Anglo-Florentine.-VII. Sea-Side Sketches. The Shipwright's Yard.-VIII. Calcutta. Chap. 1. The Landing. Chap. 2. Writers and Writerism.-IX. Letter from Odoherty.-X. Mr. Allan's Picture of the Death of Archbishop Sharpe.-XI. On the Drama. Ducis' ShakeXIII. Letter from Paddy.-XIV. Hints for a Young Author, speare, and Jouy's Sylla. XII. Critique on Lord Byron.from a very Old One.-XV. Domestic Politics.-XVI. Letter to Christopher North, Esq. from a Volunteer, with an Address to the Yeomanry Cavalry of Manchester.-XVII. Noctes Ambrosianæ. No. 2.-XVIII. Works preparing for Publication.-XIX. Monthly List of New Publications→→→ XX. Monthly Register. Printed for WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, No. 17, Prince'sStreet, Edinburgh; and T. CADELL, Strand, London; and Sold by T. Sowler, St. Ann's-Square, Manchester. LIBRARY of the late REV. JOSHUA BROOKES, consisting of nearly SIX THOUSAND VOLUMES. DODD, at his AUCTION REPERTORY, No. 28, KINGSTREET, MANCHESTER, on Monday, May 13, 1822, and nine following days, Saturday and Sunday excepted. To commence precisely at half past ten in the Forenoon, and at three in the Afternoon of each day. In the second place, your correspondent states that "the nerve, having suffered so severely, spontaneously fell into a spasm, or opposite sort of action, and produced a blue spectrum;" from which it appears to be his opinion, that the retina can, of its own accord, throw itself into such a kind of action, To be SOLD by AUCTION, by MR. THOMAS as to produce the sensation of a particular colour : from this assumption it is a fair inference, that the retina, which is thus capable of exciting the sensations, which we term blue, green, &c. has also the power of resisting those sensations. According to this hypothesis, each individual has entire command over his own optic nerves; can throw them into any kind of action he pleases; can make the moon appear green, and have the proof of ocular demonstration, This interesting Collection of Books is replete in the most valuable works in Divinity and Ecclesiastical History, Classics, Lives, Memoirs, History, and Important Events, Magazines, Reviews, Tracts, and a profusion of MiscellaVoyages, Travels, Tours, Poetry, Education, Bibliography, neous Facetia of the most enlivening and entertaining description, abounding in Prophetic Admonitions, Solid Remarks. 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The Books may be viewed on Thursday, May 9th, and previous to the Days of Sale, when Catalogues may be bad, at One Shilling each. Manchester: Printed, Published, and Sold, by the Proprietors, HENRY SMITH AND BROTHERS, St. Ann's Square, to whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed. Sold also by all the Book sellers in Manchester and the neighbouring towns. FOR THE IRIS. ON STUDY. Il ne s'agit pas de faire lire, mais de faire penser. MONTESQUIEU. The most delightful path of life, is that which leads through the avenue of Literature and Science. HUME. SATURDAY, MAY 11, 1822. weakness. Hence the advantages which a person of education, whose mind has been invigorated and enlightened by study, possesses over others placed in dissimilar circumstances. If study be at first irksome, habit will render it agreeable; and as soon as it is pursued for the pleasure it affords, it is probably a source of the highest delight of which the human mind is susceptible. The enjoyments of the voluptuary are always transient; those of the student permanent. The pleasures of ON the great importance of study in early. the former are precarious, and are almost life, when the faculties are forming, and when invariably succeeded by remorse; those of the the energies of the human mind are easily latter are certain, and are always reflected roused, it is not necessary to expatiate. Ex-upon with satisfaction. The one may have his perience shews us, that the most splendid ta- circumstances; the other is not dependant on only thread of delight broken by extraneous fents cannot compensate for the want of ap- contingencies, but like the spider, carries in plication; and that, well directed assiduity, not only supplies the place of genius and himself the materials for his web. invention," but enables the possessor of moderate abilities, to surpass others favoured by superior natural endowments. Nothing tends in a greater degree to facilitate the progress of the student, than method and regularity. A proper adherence to a well formed plan of study, saves more time and labour than is generally supposed. He who studies a little, regularly and often, will soon surpass another who makes great efforts at distant intervals. The advantages of study are numerous and important. In a civilized country it is generally found to be the principal avenue to advancement. By assiduous study, and a moderate share of natural talents, many persons have deservedly risen from comparatively low situations, to the first ranks in society. Probably no sort of elevation is so gratifying to the human mind, as that which a man is conscious he owes to himself. The prosperity which is purchased by personal merit has in it nothing derogatory; "it blesses him that gives, and him that takes" it serves to support the possessor better than the imbecility which is propped by the proudest ancestry that heraldry has recorded. Study leads to knowledge; and knowledge is the most honourable of possessions. Without it the wealthiest, and most powerful individuals are but little respected while living, and soon forgotten after they are dead but the man of superior intellectual attainments is always regarded with respect; and when he lives only in the visioned eye of memory, his loss is thought of with regret, and his name spoken of with kindness. The mind is at first always feeble. Exercise is necessary to give it strength. When but little exerted it retains much of its pristine that of the second is honourable, and valuable, The life of the first is degraded and useless; not to himself only, but to his friends, and not to his friends only, but to his country, and the world. The pleasures of the student admit of sufficient variety. He experiences none of those vacant moments which he knows not how to occupy. His own reflections are to him a he may impart information, and receive it, source of perpetual enjoyment. In company he may digest that which he has already acWhen alone he may add to his knowledge, or quired. I can discover, unless when it is carried to an Study is attended with no disadvantage that improper degree. But this objection applies equally to every human virtue. Charity may degenerate into silly profusion; mercy into criminal weakness; and religion into idle surature or science may induce a man to neglect perstition. In like manner the study of litethe pursuits of his trade or profession; it may render a mind naturally surly still more unsociable; or, when pursued without proper of health. But if we would find any thing intervals of relaxation, it may be destructive against which captious ingenuity can discover no objection, we should seek for it in vain. ON FRIENDSHIP. J. W. NOTHING is more conducive to man's happiness, and more capable of easing his mind, when oppressed with cares and anxieties, than the society of a faithful friend, to whom he may fly for relief, and into whose WEEKLY. PRICE 3 d. bosom, the receptacle of every virtue, he may pour forth the lamentations of his heart. The operation which friendship has upon man, is greater than that of any other passion; he reflects with heartfelt satisfaction upon the pleasure, as well as the advantages which re sult from this soft soother of sorrow. It fits the soul for the performance of those duties and purposes for which it was created, and by the strict observance of which, it hopes to obtain that blissful immortality which is prepared for it in a future state; and when transplanted from the earthly mass which it animates into the paradise of its Maker, it will shine forth with increased splendor. detestation, behold the various abuses which Who can, without the greatest sorrow and are daily practised under the sanction of this sacred name! It is truly lamentable that so infamous purposes, and used as a cloak to sublime a passion should be prostituted to such conceal the blackest crimes. At the same time, we pity the man who possesses so great a share of credulity, and whose honour forbids him to entertain suspicions of another's fidelity, until his own accomplished ruin convinces him of his fatal and misplaced confidence. Under the specious title of a friend, the Many an innocent victim has been sacrificed most glaring actions have been perpetrated. of his fortune by the false insinuations of the to the crafty designs of an artful villain, bereft pleasing satisfaction of having expended his left entirely destitute: he cannot enjoy the base deceiver, his family involved in ruin and fortune in the service of an honourable man, but of an ungrateful wretch, who even exults in his ruin, and, without remorse, beholds a father meditating with the most poignant. which his children are reluced. No person anguish of soul, upon the wretchedness to who possesses any tender feeling can reflect upon such an instance of misplaced confidence, without partaking of the afflictions of the untear of pity upon the recollection of his unhappy sufferer, and dropping the sympathetic merited misfortunes. It was the custom of certain Greek Philosophers to dissuade their disciples from entering into any strong attachments, as unavoidably creating supernumerary disquietudes to those who engage in them, strange infatuation! that they should disdain the greatest blessing which man obtains! Without a friend all the wealth of Attalus could not render man happy, and adversity would be almost intolerable. "De amicitiâ omnes ad unum sentiunt, sine amicitiâ vitam esse nullam." The man who would wish to obtain that perfect state of happiness to which mankind aspire, must be very circumspect in the choice of a friend; for upon this single circumstance depends his happiness or misery. He must discover the peculiarities in the disposition of the person he wishes to honour with the sacred title, and judge whether such a disposition be congenial with his own, for without a perfect uniformity of temper friendship cannot exist,-hatred and dislike must necessarily ensue. Such are the blessings of friendship, that mankind, animated by it, would be willing to forego their other darling pleasures, if discarding them would conduce to the happiness of a friend; the coward would assume strength in his defence, and the miser (if such a wretched being can possibly entertain so noble a passion) would quit the satisfaction of gazing upon his hoarded wealth, and forfeit them for the advantage of his friend. B. I. T. IT was a fine autumnal afternoon in the year 1764. I was then in all the vigour of youth, and unoppressed with the cares of life; I had experienced many of its pleasures, but as yet knew not any of its solicitudes; a partaker of its joys, but a stranger to the sorrows which all must feel. I was at this time on a visit at the residence of a relative, in a romantic situation, commanding a delightful prospect of, perhaps, the most picturesque scenery in England. In the front was a noble expanse of waters, encircled on every side by fertile fields, some covered with the yellow corn, which ever and anon was waved in the gentlest motion by the cooling breeze--some, already shorn of their rich produce, displayed an agreeable contrast in their whiteness, while in others were seen the careless rustics cheerfully pursuing their annual labour, in all that innocent mirth which accompanies the anticipation and enjoyment of the harvest-home. Behind was a romantic wood; not indeed arrayed in all its summer foliage, but just beginning to yield to the soft touch of time, which bids the bud and blossom to appear, and which destroys them both. It was to me, however, far more agreeable in its partial decay, than it could have been in its richest splendour; for there is no season of the year so congenial to my feelings, as that in which the leaves fall off, and the flowers fade; that which produces the witching twilight, when the sun has set, but left behind him the golden tinge of his departing rays, which commingles with the shades of evening, forming an intermediate state, more lovely than either the broad light of day, or the thick darkness of night. I had been wandering amidst such scenery as this with a young friend, much about my own age. At one time we threaded the mazy windings of the wood, plucking such wild fruit as still remained, and presented itself to our view. Then we wandered along the banks of the lake, pleased with the gentle rippling of It was the funeral of Captain Edward Hau- former possessor. But the most affecting sight was still to come. Next to the body appeared the gallant courser which had carried the young warrior over many a bloody plain, which had shared his glory and his dangers, and which to a soldier is almost as dear as life itself. Slung across the saddle were suspended the hero's boots. The poor animal forgetting his natural fiery ardour, instead of proudly pawing the ground as he was wont to do, appeared conscious that his master was now no more. He walked slowly along, drooping his head, and displaying, more forcibly than words can express, the sorrow which he felt. Noble animal, I exclaimed, thou hast indeed lost thy lord--no more shalt thou experience his kind attention,--no more shalt thou bear him to the battle-plain,-no more enjoy with him the glories of victory, or the comforts of peace; thou wilt shortly be doomed to another master, who perhaps will be as cruel, as thy former was humane. The officers of the regiment closed the military part of the procession, which was followed by a large concourse of the gentry and the peasantry of the place. They soon arrived at the village church, a fine old gothic building. A row of stately elms was planted around the burial ground, which contained the remains of some of almost every person in the parish. Here then, whilst beholding the obsequies of the stranger, they were reminded of the death of those most dear to them. The service was perform ed by the worthy rector amidst the most prevailing silence, and many a rustic face was bedewed with tears. The corpse was committed to the grave, and the minister closed the service, when the last token of military service and respect was performed, the whole body firing three vollies over the house of death. The procession then moved slowly off, in the same order as before, we following them with the eye as they marched along, their arms reflecting the beams of the setting sun, and their plumes waving in the wind, till they were out of sight. Every former thought was now banished from our minds, and reflecting upon the spectacle we had witnessed, we pursued our way Of course this was homewards in silence. the chief topic of conversation there, and many circumstances of Captain Hautrey's life were related. This I learnt was the day which had been fixed for his nuptials, and the amiable object of his love, so affected with grief at his death, had never recovered her accustomed spirits. She was indeed more than commonly distressed, and a settled gloom First marched the troop, which had been seemed to have taken possession of her heart. under his orders, with their arms reversed-I was much struck with the recital of the nor was there one countenance of these hardy sons of war unaffected with grief--sorrow was pourtrayed upon each manly face, as they for the last time beheld the coffin which contained the earthly relics of their kind commander. Immediately following them was the full band, playing as they went a solemn requiem to the dead. Next was the body of the deceased, borne by six of his sorrowing men; on the pall were deposited his helmet, sword, and spurs, the sight of which inspired a train of mournful ideas,---the weapon which had been drawn against the enemies of his country, and sheathed in many a foeman's heart, had now finished its work of death, and was consigned to its scabbard never more to be used by its Captain's story, and retired from the family The night was calm, not a zephyr blew, And a balmy fragrance breathed around Nor was I mistaken. I heard, indeed, the voice of some unknown fair one, now tuned to a wild cadency, and now sinking so as to be inaudible. Wondering what this could be, I advanced slowly towards the spot from whence I imagined the voice to proceed.Judge of my surprise, at discovering a beautiful female figure reclining against the bank of the lake, evidently pierced to the heart with some secret grief. She was of the middle stature, her features were of the most en gaging loveliness. Her dark black eye shot such wild and melancholy glances, as would have arrested the attention of the most indifferent. Her hair was flowing over her neck and shoulders in the most enchanting disorder, and her dress bore such an air of negligence, as convinced me that I had met with a real child of affliction. I concealed myself so as to escape her observation, and listened to her wild and irregular discourse. At one time she talked in a strain quite incoherent, but at another her voice was tuned to a bewitching melody. Her song was love, of disappointment, and death, and I well remember the following lines: Why shineth so clear the bright moon-beam Down on the still and the lucid stream? Or why hath the air such a magic power? But no-he is gone-such scenes cannot please, Yes, yes, it is so, for my Edward is gone, If my Edward had lived, this cloudless night Here the poor maiden looked wildly around, and again sunk into a settled pensiveness of soul. At length she slowly retired, and left me to reflect upon her melancholy fortunes. I bent my steps toward the hospitable roof of my relation, my mind soothed with the soft scenery which every where surrounded me, and filled with the most solemn and agreeable meditation. I did not mention the affecting circumstance I had witnessed, to any of the family, and soon after bad them farewell.--But though since that time nearly three-score years have passed over my head, ́now silvered o'er with age, during which I have felt the vicissitudes of fortune, the cares and anxieties of life, its sorrows, and its griefs, yet never was erased from my memory the recollection of "THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL." T. C. SCRAPIANA. No. II. From the common-place book of a Lancashire Benè solum cogitare, est benè somniare. Bona throni, bona scabelli,-moveables and immoveables. Better times may we expect, when God gives better hearts. Better saved without a precedent, than damned nable. Berengarius ye disciple of Fulbert, and deacon Fairclough. Benè vixit, qui benè latuit. EPITAPH. Here Browne ye quondam Beggar lies; Some six score winters, and above: Such vertue is in ale. Ale was his meat, his drink, his cloaths, And could he still have drank his ale, Bernardine monks boasted yt ye sun shined Bradford said we must go to ye grammer school Balaam had benefit by a good angel though Beatitudo hominis est Deus. Bona opera via regni, non causa regnandi. Bernardus non vidit omnia. Bonifas pope, when Phocas Emperor. The Benedictio duplex, charitativa, authoritativa. to tarry. Bells in England say, Funera plango; fulmina This reduced gives x, the part A does in 1 hour, consequently he would finish the whole in 30 hours. And (1-3) 12 gives 26, the part B does in 1 hour, he would therefore finish it in 20 hours. Also (1-3) 20 gives, the part C does in 1 hour, hence he would finish it in 60 hours. Solutions to the same question were received from Arithmeticus, J. H. and Messrs. W. M. Laurie; T. Bainbridge, jun., Robert Andrew, and W. Wilson; the solution of J. J. jun. was erroneous. Answer to Charade, No. 15, by S. R. Charade, No. 16, by R. S. My first is the male to a cow, |