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fectly inacessible: this spot is truly romantic and beautiful. Here under the shade of vines and fig-trees, in company with some intelligent engineer officers, with a fine beach and rolling sea in our front, and in our rear the cliffs of this mighty rock, on the sides of which several monkeys were playing their fantastic tricks,' we dined in refreshing coolness, although it was sultry, hot on the other side of the rock.

The marble of Gibraltar is very beautiful, and admits of a fine polish shells and petrified fish are frequently found in it.

The inns in the town, without being very clean or comfortable, are excessively dear; but there is one to which I would recommend the traveller of pleasure to go, equal in neatness and comfort to any in England, standing in an enchanting situation a little above the dock-yard and Europa Bay.

The musquitoes commit sad havoc upon strangers, for which reason, and the usual effects attendant on a change of climate, an officer is seldom put on duty for a fortnight after his arrival. The society is here altogether gloomy, for want of more females. The theatre is execrable. One of the few amusements is spearing of fish by torch light. The market is well supplied with vegetables, now, from Spain as well as Barbary. At night a passenger is sadly annoyed by the challenges of the numerous sentinels who are stationed in and near the town. Every one not in uniform must carry a lanthorn. To the eye of the stranger the town presents a natural masquerade of people from various countries in the diffe rent costumes, of whom the chief are Moors. The Spanish character forms a striking feature. Spaniards from all parts are to be found here.

Gibraltar, is indeed well worthy of a voyage to be seen; and when its numerous and astonishing fortifications, its town, barracks, docks, arsenals, country-houses, and population, sometimes amounting to sixteen thousand souls, distributed on one side of a rock, whose circumference does not exceed seven miles, are all brought within the eye's and mind's view, it may justly be rank. ed amongst the greatest of natural and artificial wonders.



CATHERINE II., harboured a deep resentment against Gustavus of Sweden, and could not forgive him the war which he carried on against her: she composed an opera, which she ralled "The Unskilful Warrior." The design of this perform

ance was obvious. The Empress showered down ridicule upon the object of her hatred. She spared nothing to render the representation of this dramatic work splendid and brilliant. Martini composed the music. The ballet cost twenty thousand roubles to get up. The scenery, the dresses of the performers, the decorations of the house, would cost at least double the sum. Catherine wanted to have her play performed at the grand national theatre : Potemkin highly disapproved of this idea, and was not afraid of stating his disapprobation. He thought it would only serve to exasperate the king of Sweden, and to perpetuate the war. "I am," added he, "neither a judge nor a critic, but I could wish the Empress had chosen any other amusement." Out of regard for his opinion, the performance was postponed till after his departure; and the play was acted at the theatre of the Hermitage, where the public were not admitted.

Although we have never read "The Unskilful Warrior," yet we recollect a passage from one of this Imperial dramatic writer's pieces, which will evince the delicacy and taste with which she conducted her dialogue:

"Tantine.-Marton informs me, niece, that you have passed a bad night; what's been the matter?"

"Rosalie.-Why, aunt, the fleas prevented me from sleeping!"

This piece entitled La Rage aux Proverbes, was played before the Court at the Hermitage, and was, of course, received "with unbounded applause." It shows not only the manners of the higher Russians, but also the comforts of a Russian bed; it also confirms the accounts of those travellers who have related instances of mutual attention paid by Russian Princesses, in hunting the vermin of each other's heads, at their palace windows.

This tenderness of Potemkin was certainly remarkable, particularly when we reflect on the mild orders this fellow issued relative to the poor subjects of the same king of Sweden.

"The Russians," said he, "must penetrate into Swedish Finland, depopulate and ravage that country, and render it so uninhabitable, that the fiend of mankind himself would not be tempted to make it his residence." Three thousand Bashkirs were sent for from the borders of Tartary to be employed in the execution of the bloody decree against unhappy Finland. The Russians, however, had soon occasion to repent employing those half-savages, for they treated Russian Finland as unmercifully as that part which belonged to Swe den, sacking, plundering, and assassinating friends and foes indiscriminately. Life of Potemkin.

The following is an instance of the same mode in a warmer country.

"A FRIEND of mine who visited Madrid in more tranquil moments than the present, while in that city went to the presentation of a new play. Love was not omitted in this piece. The scene drew up and discovered the enamoured pair embracing and kissing each other with no inconsiderable degree of passion. The modesty of the audience was shocked; and such a universal expression of disapprobation was evinced that the acting was stopped. But the night following, the same play was again brought forward, and proceeded very quietly unto the critical scene. The curtain rose, and presented the lovers; but differently employed. The lady was journeying through the ravines, between the long locks of her beloved, and taking thence their affrighted little residents. At this sight peals of applause rung throughout the house; and the remainder of the piece went off with the loudest acclamations. So much for the most delicate testimony of Spanish tenderness! Where, my good friend, are all the ethereal loves of the Don Ferdinands and Donna Seraphinas of our romances, when we behold such spectacles !"


THE dramatic art is cultivated in Tonquin: but it is in following a very different method from that practised in Europe. The greater part of their serious dramas are merely versified recitals of national events; there is no distinction of acts, and the scenes are of very unequal length: there is neither art in the dialogue, nor regular intrigue, nor any gradual interest; they speak more to the eyes than to the understanding or feeling. The comic pieces are in general merely farces. They introduce a kind of merry fellow, whose jokes consist principally of obscenities, supported by ridiculous and unnatural pantomimic gestures-many of their dramas are taken from the Chinese theatre; one of them most in vogue at present has for subject what occupies generally the theatres of all countries, love, and the libertine attack against the conjugal compact. A female who has a lover, not finding a better expedient to elude the attention of her husband than that of assassination, seizes the moment when he is in bed (which is placed on the stage) and despatches him by a dreadful cut in the head with a hatchet. Her husband

on receiving the blow leaps from his bed, and walks up and down the stage with the hatchet firmly fixed in his scull, uttering the most lamentable cries, while the blood flows in torrents down his face, and he at length expires in the utmost agonies and convulsions. His cries having brought the neighbours in—a mandarin is sent for, who examines the woman, finds her guilty, and condemns her to be skinned alive, which is performed behind the scenes-but, after this execution, she reappears on the stage, and sings a few tender airs to the mandarin to engage him to be satisfied with her punishment, and to give her a full remission of her crime, in order that in the other world, where she is going, she may not carry with her the title of a guilty person.

We recommend this exhibition to Mr. Charles Kemble, for translation, as it certainly would make a very fine Tonquin German-Anglo melodrame, and give great stage effect-if the hatchet be managed adroitly.



AMONG the curiosities of this district may be properly included a very extraordinary power displayed by one of its natives, in controling and subduing the refractory disposition of horses. What I am about to relate will appear almost incredible, and is certainly very hard to be accounted for; but there is not the least doubt of its truth; many of the most respectable inhabitants have been witnesses of his performances, some of which come within my own knowledge. He was an awkward, ignorant rustic, of the lowest class; his name James Sullivan, but better known by the appellation of the Whisperer; his occupation horse-breaking. The nick-name he acquired from a vulgar notion of his being able to communicate to the amimal what he wished, by means of a whisper; and the singularity of the method seemed, in some degree, to justify the attribute. In his own neighbourhood, the notoriety of the fact made it appear less remarkable, but I doubt if any instance of a similar subjugating talent is to be found on record. As far as the sphere of his control extended, the boast of veni, vidi, vici, was more justly claimed by James Sullivan than by Cæsar, or even Buonaparte himself.

How his art was acquired, or in what it consisted, is likely to remain ever unknown, as he has lately left the world without divulging it. His son, who follows the same trade, possesses a

small portion of the art, having either never learned the true secret, or being incapable of putting it in practice. The wonder of his skill consisted in the celerity of the operation, which was performed in privacy, and without any apparent means of coercion. Every description of horse, or mule, whether previously broke or unhandled, whatever their peculiar vices or ill habits might have been, submitted, without show of resistance, to the magical influence of his art, and in the short space of half an hour became gentle and tractable. The effect, although instantaneously produced, was generally durable. Though some were more submissive to him than others, they seemed to have acquired a docility unknown before. When sent for, to tame a vicious beast, for which he was paid more or less, according to distance, generally two or three guineas, he directed the stable, in which he and the object of the experiment were placed, to be shut, with orders not to open the door until a signal was given. After a tête-à-tête of about half an hour, during which little or no bustle was heard, the signal was made, and, upon opening the door, the horse appeared lying down, and the man by his side, playing familiarly with him, like a child with a puppy dog. From that time he was found perfectly willing to submit to any discipline, however repugnant to his nature before.

I once saw his skill tried on a horse, which could never before be brought to stand for a smith to shoe him. The day after Sullivan's half-hour lecture, I went, not without some incredulity, to the smith's shop, with many other curious spectators, where we were eye-witnesses of the complete success of his art. This too had been a troop-horse, and it was supposed, not without reason, that after regimental discipline had failed, no other would be found availing. I observed that the animal appeared terrified whenever Sullivan either spoke or looked at him; how that extraordinary ascendency could have been obtained, it is difficult to conjecture..

In common cases this mysterious preparation was unnecessary -he seemed to possess an instinctive power of inspiring awe, the result, perhaps, of a natural intrepidity, in which, I believe, a great part of his art consisted, though the circumstance of the téte-à-tête, shows that, upon particular occasions, something more must have been added to it.

A faculty like this, would, in other hands, have made a fortune; and I understand that great offers had been made to him for the exercise of this art abroad-but hunting was his passion. He lived at home, in the style most agreeable to his disposition; and nothing could induce him to quit Duhallow and the foxhounds.

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