LIBRARY

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iS/# S JZl eM<&<m o J J >

THE

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OF

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, fyc.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. II.

July 1, 1823.

N°- VII.

EMBELLISHMENTS.

1. View of Tabley-Hou.se .....

2. Scene in Tarley-Park .....

3. Ladies' Morning Dress .....

4. Ball Dress .....

5. Chairs ........

C. Muslin Patterns.

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CONTENTS.

MISCELLANIES.

Views of Country Seats. — Tabley-IIouse, the Seat of Sir John Fleming Leicester, Bart ]

Letters from Reginald Filterbrain, of the Inner Temple, Esq 3

Anecdotes, &c. Historical, Literary, and Personal — Rob Roy Macgregor — Kissing; — Ossian's Poems — Sir Ro- bert Douglas — The Industrious Corn. munity — Character of the Russians, by Madame de Stael — Maria I.ec- zinska, Queen of Louis XV. — The Wry Mouth — Discovery of Murder — Curi- ous Theatrical Calculation — Fonte- nelle 5

Ghost Stories. No. !•■ — The Three Bro- thers 9

Recollections of West Mill, Foxearth, the Residence of Robert Lanchcster, Esq ByJ.M. Lacey 15

R-euiarks on the Popular Prejudices against Old Maids 17

Worcester in 1823 20

The Castle and the Farm, or the Foster- Brothers: A Tale 23

The Horrors of a Hackney-Coach . . 28

Discovery of Remarkable Animal Re- mains in the Kingdom of Wirtemberg 30

Remarks on the Condition of the People of India. Extracted from a Letter from an Officer 31

French Female Parliament. — Chamber of Deputies 32

Extract of a Letter from the Captain of a Convict-Ship 34

The Progress of a Fashion 35

The Buccaneers 38

The Eccentric Monitor 41

Gaelic Relics. No. V. — Campa Run, the Field of Secret Combat, in which Epithet the Name of Cameron origi- nated 42

PAG K Anniversary and Rewards adjudged by

the Society of Arts 4fi

Cure of Hydrophobia 49

MUSICAL REVIEW.

Hummel's Arrangementof Mozart's Sym- phonies 50

Moschei.es' Variations on " the Fall of Paris"

L' Aurora d' Italia. No. I

Selection of Songs, &,c. from German Operas

Danneley's " Queen of every moving measure"

M'Murdie's Glee for four Voices . . .

Monro's " The Champion Waltz" . .

Woodward's 'f Orythia," Air Fantasia

Weiibe's Ode to Spring, a Glee . .

Rimuaui.t's Arrangement of Rossini's Overture and Introduction to the Ope- ra of " La Donna del Lago" . . .

Rossini's " In morning's dawn no hope I see"

Ries's " When meteor lights" ....

Bishop's " Home, sweet home" . . .

EINE ARTS.

Exhibition of the British Institution . .

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Morning

ih. 51

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53

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ih. 54 ib.

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Ball Dress

General Observations on Fashion and

Dress

French Female Fashions

Fashionable Furniture — Chairs . .

INTELLIGENCE,

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC . . .

POETRY.

Address to the Five Oaks at Dallwitz

(From the German ofTm-oDORE Korneji) The Fairy Well: An old Ballad . . .

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Printed by I* Harrison, 373, Strand.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical Composers, are requested to transmit on or before the 1 5th of the month, Announcements of Works which they may have on hand, and we shall cheerfully insert them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense. New Musical Publications also, if a copy be addressed to the Publisher, shall be duly noticed in our Review; and Extracts from new Books, of a moderate length and of an interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, will be acceptable.

Had Homo furnished us ivith an address, we should hare returned a private answer : as it is, we can only acknowledge that we have received his hint, which shall receive due attention.

The Letter of Reginald Filterbrain, inserted in the present Number, is the first of a series of six. The others shall follow in monthly succession.

The Pleasures of a Hackney-Coach, and The Wife of a Genius, shall appear in our next Number.

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Month as published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New-York, Halifax, Quebec, and to any part of the "West Indies, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Thornhill, of the General Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-lane ; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Malta, or any Part of the Mediterranean, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Serjeant, of the General Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the East Indies, by Mr. Guy, at the East- India House. The money to be paid at the time of subscribing, for either 3, 6, 9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of Messrs. Aubon and Kkai*, Rotterdam.

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depositor?

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ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, 8$c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. II.

July 1, 1823.

N°- VII.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.

TABLEY-HOUSE, THE SEAT OF SIR JOHN FLEMING LEICESTER, BART.

This elegant and noble edifice is situated about two miles from Knuts- ford in Cheshire. It was built by Sir Peter Leicester, father to the present baronet, and is considered the chef-tVoeuvre of the celebrated architect, Carr. Our view is taken from the south, shewing the fine Doric portico, which is remarkable for the size and beautiful proportions of the columns, each consisting of a single stone, and is certainly the largest in the kingdom. The base- ment story forms a fine and exten- sive saloon, constituting an excellent lounge, or place for in-door exercises when the weather will not permit the enjoyment of the endless variety of amusements which the grounds pre- sent, such as sailing, driving, fishing, &c. A handsome double flight of steps leads to the main entrance and

Vol. II. No. VII.

to the principal suites of apartments, which are numerous, magnificent, and fitted up in a suitable style of splendour. The Picture-Gallery is a superb room, measuring 72 feet by 32, fitted up by Mr. Harrison of Chester, under Sir John's directions, for a portion of his admirable col- lection of paintings. Little need be said of the taste of so munificent, and indeed of the earliest patron of modern art, while this gallery and the superb collection in Sir John's town-house exist. We have taken frequent occasion to pay our tribute to the spirit and liberality of the owner; but all our commendations must fall short of the feelings of an admiring public, who annually have opportunities of enjoying the mental feast afforded by some of the finest works of modern artists. To Sir John B

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TABLEY-IIOUSE.

is due the proud distinction of being the first to form a British Gallery, and with truly patriotic feeling, throwing open these fine specimens of the British school to those who are ca- pable of appreciating them. An ex- cellent catalogue of the entire collec- tion, with etchings, has been, by per- mission of Sir John, executed by Mr. Young, engraver to his Majesty. The pictures at Tabley-House are: Fall of the Rhine at Schaffhausen, by Turner, certainly one of his most splendid pictures.

A Scene in Tabley-Park, by the same artist.

View on the Wye, by the same. Returning from Market, a fine picture by Callcott.

The Calling of Samuel, by Opie. La Fayette in the Dungeon at Olmutz, by Northcote.

Portrait of Lady Hamilton as a Bacchante, by Romney.

Dalmatian Dogs, by Ward. Vulture and Snake, by Northcote. Landscape with Cattle and Fi- gures, by Williamson.

A carefully finished picture of Bull- Baiting, by Ibbetson.

View ofBeeston Castle, Cheshire, by Barret.

There are also several beautiful Landscapes by Sir John, remarkable for their charming tone of colour and breadth of effect.

A few pictures of the old mas- ters deserve particular notice. These are :

A most beautiful portrait of Lady Byron, by Sir Peter Lely, which is a splendid specimen of this master's works.

A remarkably fine portrait by Van- dyke of Lord Byron, attended by a black page leading a charger.

The Adoration, by Carlo Maratti.

King John resigning his Crown to the Pope's Legate, by old Francs. At the end of the gallery is a full- length portrait of the munificent owner, leaning against a charger, in his military habiliments, as colonel of the yeomanry cavalry.

The ceiling of the gallery is or- namented, and from the middle di- vision a superb chandelier is sus- pended. The sofas and chairs are of deep red figured silk and gold, to correspond with the rich hangings and finishings of this splendid apart- ment. The whole of the ornaments are in matt and burnished gold. — Dwarf agate columns, with candela- bra, are placed at intervals, and have a pleasing effect.

The Drawing-Room contains a fine full-length portrait of his Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, by Sir Wm. Beechey ; and an excel- lent portrait, by Northcote, of Tho- mas Lyster Parker, Esq. A num- ber of fine family portraits are dis- tributed in various apartments.

The views across the grounds, from the front of the mansion, which, in- cluding the wings, extends 343 feet, are very interesting; an extensive sheet of water, with its lakes and ma- rine accompaniments, has a pleasing effect from all parts of the grounds, particularly from the house. This lake was formed by Sir John at a considerable expense. It occupies 70 acres, and in many parts is 30 feet deep. A tower rises from a small island in the centre, as may be seen in the annexed view, copied by per- mission from a painting by Turner. This tower contains some good apart- ments adapted for fishing parties. The terrace commands extensive views of the Derbyshire hills. Connected with this lake there is

LETTERS FROM REGINALD FILTERBRAIN.

a second, also seen from the house, nearly surrounded with overhanging woods. It is divided from the for- mer hy a Gothic boat-house and bridge: a considerable and pleasing fall takes place at the centre arch, to supply the lower lake, in the mid- dle of which, on an island, is situat- ed Nether Tabley, a Gothic struc- ture, forming, with the church (now used for the family), which stands beside it, a most picturesque and ve- nerable object. It was the original habitation of that celebrated anti- quarian Sir Peter Leicester, Bart, author of" The Antiquities of Che- shire," &c. It was built in the reign of Richard II. and is preserved with great care. Its highly carved man- tel-pieces, its door-ways hung with tapestiy, its stained glass and old sculptured entrance entwined with ivy, which is so luxuriant as to co- ver the very battlements, combined with its sequestered situation, pro- duce a truly romantic effect. A

small portion of the edifice is appro- priated to the domestic use of the head-gardener. Access is acquired by a simple bridge, which has on the main land its small Gothic portal or keep.

The park contains about 600 acres, is well wooded, and has some excel- lent drives. The main road from Manchester to Chester crosses a por- tion of it at the back of the mansion : the connection is preserved by means of sunk fences.

The pleasure-grounds are well laid out. The gardens are ample, with a considerable extent of wall for fruit, forcing- houses, and green - houses. The stables may be considered as a perfect model, both as to magnifi- cence and convenience. They con- sist of a neat elegant quadrangle, in the middle of which is a spacious riding-house. The offices belonging to the stables, for such they may with great propriety be styled, pos- sess every possible convenience.

LETTERS FROM REGINALD FILTERBRAIN,

Of the Inner Temple, Esq.

Letter I.

" You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all."

All's Well that Ends Well.

BEHOLD,my dear chum, safe arrived at the end Of his perilous trip, your adventurous friend. You, who never quit London, save once in

an age, And then in the Hampstead or Camberwell

stage, No idea can form of the vast undertaking, Of the journey from which my poor bones

are now aching. This morning you started me off, my dear

Billy, In " the Hero," that leaves the White Bear,

Piccadilly. Figg'd out in my coat of stone-blue, from

the hand Of a great dandy-decker that lives in the

Strand.

My trowsers and waistcoat so gaily striped through

With a broad line of piuk and a light one of blue,

Occasioned a blackguard to say, with a grin,

" Yonder gemmau's been dragg'd through a ruling machine."

A pair of brass spurs were screw'd tight in. my heels;

The rowels you slily compar'd to coach- wheels.

My cloak was the wonder of every be- holder,

Most gracefully thrown, d I'Ecosse, o'er my shoulder.

B 2

LETTERS FROM REGINALD F1LTERBRAIN.

But excuse this digression : long trots are

the rage, And we did it in style to the end of the stage; And while there changing horses, a coach

hove in sight With four beautiful chesnuts, and distanc'd

us quite. But our Jehu, remounted, push'd on, for the

sake Of his fame as a whip, which he felt was at

stake ; He came up with his rival in excellent style, And we gallop'd along, neck and neck, for a

mile. Our fair fellow-trav'lers were lustily scream- ing* While I of impending disaster ne'er dream- ing. But highly diverted the contest to see, Rubb'd my hands, and roar'd, " Bravo!''

with infinite glee. But the road growing narrow, the two coaches

met In horrid concussion, and ours was upset. I, who sat on the roof (while I tell it I shiver), Plump'd into a hedge that hung over a river, Where my spurs stopp'd my flight, and I

hung ('tis no fib) Like Narcissus admiring the cut of his jib. The reflection, although interesting and new, I must freely confess I'd no wish to pursue. But my head prov'd too heavy at length for

my hocks, And I felt myself slide like a ship off the

stocks j And just as my nose, like the prow of the

ship, In the treacherous wave was beginning to dip, A barge coming by, I was seiz'd by the poll, And lugg'd in on a cargo of West-country

coal ; Whence arising, instanter, and feeing the

bargeman, J was once more on dear terra firma at large,

man. I soon found the coach, which by this time

had righted, With the passengers round it all sorely af- frighted. No bones had been broken, though some got

a bruising: One over a rent in his doublet wus musing ; One look'd rather grim with his head in a

band ; While another held forth his eye-tooth in

his hand,

And seem'd tiff'd when I said, not intending

to pique, " Pray, allow me to look, sir, that tooth's

a unique." I saw one old gentleman chafing his shin, And another applying a patch to his chin. A prim maiden lady was blushing quite blue, That her knees she'd expos'd to the vulgar

folks' view ; While her neighbour exclaim'd, as he count- ed his sprains, ** She might think herself lucky she'd not

shewn her brains." But each, after a while, in his place rein- stated, We set forward again, though with speed

much abated ; And, without further peril, at length were

set down At the end of our journey, a small country

town, Whence the road to my friend's was through

lanes and bye-ways, So I judged it most prudent to order a

chaise: But to this I soon found there was one small

objection ; They were all swept away by the general

election. As for tramping on foot, all the knaves were

so drunk, There was no one to guide me and carry my

trunk ; And without any guide, in a night dark as

pitch, 'Twas a hundred to one I fell into a ditch. So I rang for the waiter, and order'd a bed ; But I found I might just as well ask for his

head. " So, so," I exclaim'd, " pretty clearly I

see This election has left no election for me." When a voice from behind me, that sounded

not strange, Said, " My dennett shall whisk you to

Priory Grange." I turn'd round— 'twas my friend, to whose

dwelling we sped, And arrived just in time to be shewn up to

bed. But I judg'd for my safety you'd be in a

stew, And could not go to sleep ere I'd written.—*

Adieu!

W. H. H.

5

ANECDOTES, &c. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

ROB ROY M/VCGREGOR.

When the far-famed Rob Roy Macgregor was on his death-bed, a person whom he considered to have done him ill offices came to see him, requesting admission to his cham- ber. He called his sons to his bed- side. " Help me to rise," said the high-spirited son of Alpin, " put on my clothes, and buckle on my arms. An enemy shall not see Rob Roy Macgregor in the posture of defeat.'' His sons implicitly obeyed this order. The stranger had access, and was re- ceived with cold civility. When he departed, Rob Roy desired his sons to call in the piper. The piper with his pipe appeared. The dying man shook hands with him, and recpiested to hear the ancient pibroch, " Cka title mi tuilli" which means, " I shall never return." Rob Roy expired with the " voice of battle" pealing in his ear, and girded with his war- like accoutrements. This true and highly characteristic anecdote is lit- tle known, but it is worthy of a place in the best selection.

KISSING.

Doctor Pierius Winsenius, histo- riographer to their high mightinesses, in his Chronicle, printed at Franeck- ar, in 1622, makes known for the edification of Britons, that the en- dearing familiarity of kissing was un- known in our isle until imparted to Vortigern by the beauteous Ronix, a princess of the Frisick nation. In New-Zealand the pressure of lips is never practised. If aNew-Zealander would fondle his fair-one or child, they touch noses.

OSSIAN S POEMS.

The poems of Ossian have been translated into the Dutch language by a writer named Bilderdyk, and they are greatly admired. He accounts for Dr. Johnson's inveterate preju- dice against the authenticity of those compositions, by observing, that Johnson was ignorant of Highland antiquities, though the multitude be- lieved he knew every thing.

SIR ROBERT DOUGLAS.

At the battle of Steenkirk, Sir Robert Douglas, seeing the colours of his regiment in the hands of the enemy, sprung over a hedge, slew the French officer who was carrying off the standard, and cast it beyond the inclosure into the hands of his own corps. It readied them in safe- ty, and Sir Robert, surrounded by the French, defended himself sal- lantly until he fell covered with wounds. The Roman general Post- humus dashed his colours into the midst of the enemy for his soldiers to retrieve ; but Douglas, alone, un- supported, rescued the banner, and gave his life as the ransom.

THE INDUSTRIOUS COMMUNITY.

A French bishop, on his round of visitations, sent notice to a certain curate, that he would dine with him; but requested to have no entertain- ment beyond simple fair. To his great surprise, he found the apart- ments and viands in a style of ele- gance. The bishop expressed great concern at the expense he had occa- sioned; and the curate assured him the whole charges were defrayed by

a

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

a convent of industrious young dam- sels in the neighbourhood. The bishop said he had never heard of a nunnery in that quarter. The curate begged leave to conduct him thither, and led the dignitary to a thriving apiary. " These laborious damsels," said the curate, " are my providers in every comfort. The income of my curacy I give to the poor."

CHARACTER OF THE RUSSIANS, BY MADAME DE STAEL.

The manner of the Russians is so obliging, that, from the very first day, you might imagine yourself intimate with them ; and probably at the end of ten years you would not be so. The silence of a Russian is altogether extraordinary: this silence is occa- sioned solely by the interest he takes in a subject or design. In other in- stances, they talk as much as you will, but their conversation shews you no more' than their politeness; it betrays neither their feelings nor opinions. They have been frequently compar- ed to the French ; in my opinion with the least justice m the world. The flexibility of their organs makes imi- tation in all things a matter of ease to them. They are English, French, or German in their manners, according to circumstances, but they never cease to be Russians; that is to say, uniting impetuosity and reserve ; more capa- ble of passion than friendship ; more devout than virtuous; more brave than chivalrous; and so violent in their desires, that nothing can stop them when any gratification is in question. Poetry, eloquence, and literature are not yet to be found in Russia ; luxury, power, and courage are the principal objects of their pride and ambition: all other me- thods of acquiring distinction appear

effeminate and vain to this semi-civi- lized nation.

MARIA LECKZINSKA, QUEEN OF LOUIS XV.

This princess, who passionately loved her husband, suffered exces- sively from his first infidelities: ne- vertheless, the death of his mistress, Madame de Chateauroux, whom she had known very young, and who had ever been the object of her bounty, made a painful impression upon her. This good queen had imbibed in her infancy a superstitious dread of ghosts, of which she never could en- tirely rid herself. The first night that she passed after having heard of the death of Madame Chateauroux, which was rather sudden, she found it impossible to sleep, and made one of her women sit up with her. This attendant, at the queen's desire, en- deavoured to lull her to sleep, by re- lating to her such tales as children generally are told by their nurses : for a long time, however, she could not close her eyes; at last, the Jem?ne de chambre fancied she was asleep, ceased to speak, and began softly to move from the side of the bed. The queen, who was only dosing, awoke instantly, and cried out, " Where are you going? Stop, and proceed with your story." It was then two o'clock in the morning: the tired femme de chambre, whose name was Boirot, said with great naivete, " But what is the matter with your majesty to- night ? Have you any fever ? Shall I send for your physician?" — " Oh! no, no, my good Boirot, I am not ill; but that poor Madame de Cha- teauroux, if she were to appear!" — " Good God, madam!" cried the \femme de chambre, who had now I lost all patience, " if Madame de

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AiND PERSONAL.

Chateauroux does come back, you may be very sure it wont be to fetch your majesty." The queen burst in- to a laugh at this speech; her agita- tion ceased, and she soon after fell asleep.

A collection of the thoughts of this princess has been published, among which we find the following: " Contentment rarely travels with fortune, but it follows virtue even in misfortune."

The queen had sent to her father, the dethroned King of Poland, the morning-gown which the king set on fire in standing too near the grate : though dreadfully burnt, the prince flattered himself he should recover from the effects of his dreadful acci- dent. He wished to inform the queen of it himself, and in order to make as light of it as possible, he wrote to her in a tone of cheerfulness, and after relating the accident, add- ed, " What consoles me, my dear, is, that I burn for you." To her last hour, the queen retained this letter, and her women often surprised her kissing a paper which they believed to be it. This was the last letter she ever received from her father.

Although Maria disliked the for- malities of the drawing-room, yet the king's fondness of hunting, and the short journeys that he often took, obliged her to have court-days very often. She received the ambassa- dors, the grandees of her own king- dom, and foreigners of distinction, with an easy grace and an air of sa- tisfaction, that might have induced a belief that she was delighted with a ceremonial to which she merely sub- mitted from duty. Her figure was somewhat against her on these occa- sions, as she was rather undersized ; but this disadvantage was amply com-

pensated by the rest of her exterior. No woman understood better than she did, how to play the part of a queen, or how to secure the suffra- ges of all with whom she conversed. She entered with equal ease and af- fability into the affairs of people of all ranks and professions who were presented to her; had something obliging to say to every body ; and whether she granted, promised, or refused, all retired satisfied with the manner in which they had been treated.

THIS WRY MOUTH.

Renard, a physician of Paris, piqued himself on his extraordinary sharp-sightedness. One day on call- ing to visit a patient, he found an old abbe playing a sober game at piquet with him. " What are you doing here, Monsieur l'Abhe?" exclaimed Renard : " go home, and get bled immediately. You have not a mo- ment to lose."

The abbe was so terrified by this address, that lie was unable to stir : he was, therefore, conveyed home and put to bed. Renard followed him, and directed that he should be bled three or four times; he then prescribed an emetic, and every time he called, he found the abbe worse and worse.

On the third day, the patient's brother was summoned from the country. He hurried to town, and was informed that his brother was dying. Renard was in his chamber when he entered. " For God's sake," said he, " what is the matter with my brother ?" — " He has had a vio- lent attack of apoplexy, without be- ing aware of it," replied Renard. " Fortunately I met with him at a patient's where I called, and disco-

8

ANECDOTES, &C. HISTORICAL, LITERARY, AND PERSONAL.

vered it by his mouth, which was drawn awry." — "Good heavens!" re- joined the brother of the supposed dying abbe, " my brother has had a wry mouth these sixty years." — " Why was I not told so before?" ex- claimed Renard; " it would have saved me much trouble and him much unnecessary expense. 'Tis no fault of mine."

DISCOVERY OF MURDER.

On the banks of the Lake of the Four Forest Towns in Switzerland, the following tradition is current :

A musician once went with his daughter, seven years old, to a pub- lic-house near the lake, where boat- men frequently land when the wind proves unfavourable. He had play- ed all night to a party of dancers, without paying any attention to his child, which fell asleep with hunger and weariness. In going home, she asked him for bread. " You shall have some," said he, " if you answer me three questions: In the first place, what is softer than down?" — " A mother's bosom," replied the girl. — " What is sweeter than ho- ney?"— "Amother's milk."— " What is harder than stone ?" — " A father's heart." Incensed at this answer, the father seized the child by the legs and dashed out her brains against the rocks. Overwhelmed with horror at the crime he had perpetrated, he hur- ried to Schwyz, and enlisted in a Swiss regiment that was raising for the service of Spain. The bloody trade of a soldier stifled for some time the voice of conscience. Seve- ral years had elapsed, and he was sitting with some jovial companions over their cups, when the conversa- tion turned upon stories of murders. One of his comrades maintained,

that every crime is discovered soon- er or later, and receives its just re- ward . " That is not true !" cried the murderer; and to prove his assertion, he related his own story, and thus betrayed himself. He was put in irons, and sent back to Schwyz, where he paid the penalty of his unnatural atrocity upon the scaffold.

CURIOUS THEATRICAL CALCULATION.

A regular frequenter of the the- atres of the Boulevards at Paris has for his amusement made a calculation of the melodramatic crimes and mis- fortunes of the principal performers of those theatres. According to this calculation, Tantin has been stabbed 1 6,302 times. Marty has undergone 11,000 poisonings with variations. Frenoy has been put to death 27,000 times in various ways. Mademoiselle Adele Dupuis has been innocently seduced, carried off, drowned, or otherwise disposed of, 750,000 times. Madame Levesque has been tried for her life 64,000 times ; and Made- moiselle Olivier, who has been but a very short time on the stage, has al- ready emptied the chalice of guilt and vengeance 1600 times. Here then are 869,902 crimes to be divid- ed among five persons, who never- theless enjoy excellent health and universal respect.

FONTENELLE.

A friend who once called to see Fontenelle, found the old man, who was usually extremely cheerful, in a very ill humour. He inquired what was the matter. " The best tempered person," rejoined Fontenelle, " must in the end lose all patience if he is treated as I am. Only think, I have but one servant, and yet I am as much neglected as if I had twenty."

9

GHOST STORIES.— No.

THE THREE BROTHERS.

I.

On a calm autumnal afternoon, the serenity of which formed a cheering contrast with the boisterous morning, while the dark blue sky bade fair to obliterate all recollections of the equinoctial squalls of the preceding days, a cabriolet drew up at a coun- try pot-house, near St. Servan in Brittany, dignified by the imposing- title of IS Hotel des Trots Empereurs. The pause of wheels was here any tiling but the signal for the agitation of feet. No innkeeper bustled to the door, no visitors gathered to scrutinize the new-comers, and it re- quired the utmost extent of the lungs of a fat bon-rirant, who held the reins, to draw forth a tottering old man in a blouse or smock-frock, who, on reaching the door by the aid of a crutch, doffed his greasy night- cap, and begged to be honoured with their commands. " The road to St. Malo, grand-papa ?" — " Ah ! gentlemen!" rejoined the old man, screwing up his mouth with all the prefatory symptoms of a long dis- course, but appearing to recollect himself, he hobbled into the house, leaving the two travellers in the gig- to their patience, and the enjoyment of a superb prospect of the sea. Whether he had gone to make far- ther inquiries, or did not think com- pany, who only asked for the road, worth his attention, seemed for some minutes doubtful, till his reappear- ance with a ponderous volume, the leaves of which bore evident marks of constant reference. " Zounds!" exclaimed the charioteer, " do you want a post-book to tell the road to St. Malo, which cannot be a league distant?" — "A moment if you please;

Vol. II. No. VII.

I am only looking for the moon's age." — " The moon's age, you luna- tic!" retorted a meagre-faced mon- sieur on the farther side of the ca- briolet, " are you going to take a lunar observation by way of directing us?" and, boiling with impatience, hailed a respectable-looking peasant who was advancing towards them. More fortunate in their present ap- plication, the pedestrian offered them the choice of two roads. " One will satisfy us." — " Eh Men, your short- est lies across the Grere, which, at low water, is equal in strength to any par^ • but at this moment the tide has not ebbed sufficiently to permit your passing till after the gates are shut."—" Well, the other then?" cried the charioteer impatiently. — " Ah dam! that is not much bet- ter, for you must make the gros tour of the Sillon, the circuit of the bay, the worst road in all Brittany ; and to look at your beast, I much doubt whether the animal will be able to drag you a couple of leagues up to the axle in sand." — " I do not," replied the other ; " a cauchois will get through any thing." — " Cau- chois! cauchois /" exclaimed sneer- ingly his meagre-faced companion, " you would make an excellent Pa- risian cabriolet-driver, who, in prais- ing his horse, thinks he cannot say more than il est cauchois." Their Cicerone here interposed with ano- ther " dam," an exclamation con- stantly and unmeaningly employed by the good Bretons, in the style of the American 7" guess, but divested of the blasphemous attributes of its relation on our side of the Chan- nel. " Whatever your horse may C

10

THE THREE BROTHERS.

be equal to, dam! your gig, although it has apparently weathered the re- volution better than perhaps many of its masters, will assuredly remain en route. Take my advice, put up your vehicle, and wait for the dili- gence from Rennes, which must be here in half an hour." To the ob- servation that it ought to have long passed, as it left Rennes at three in the morning, he replied: " Quite the reverse; 'tis a diligence aVaise, and a league an hour is with them capi- tal travelling: you had, therefore, better wait for it, and you may fetch your cabriolet to-morrow morning ; although, dam! I doubt whether you will find space sufficient to turn it in St. Malo."

After some vivacious deliberation as to the increased expense, our tra- vellers determined to adopt the pro- posed plan, and commenced uncord- ing their packages, which, in a few minutes, were placed, with their own- ers, in the salle-a-manger, cuisine, salon, or what you please to term the principal apartment of a French ca- baret, destined to every purpose, not excluding sleep. The travellers ap- peared each about forty, but here their resemblance terminated, as M. Hyacinthe Lemaire, a wine - mer- chant, or rather keeper of a wine- shop at Nantes, presented a rosy full face, and a corresponding embon- point of figure: a profusion of black curly whiskers gave no contemptible idea of his martial appearance, when, as a sapeur, with a beard descending to his breast, a polished hatchet on his shoulder, and a white leather apron, he headed a regiment of the ex-guard, throughout its glorious campaigns. Whether, from his con- tinual connection with gunpowder and its fiery concomitants, he had

become impregnated with a supera- bundance of caloric, I cannot state, but certain it was, that Monsieur Hyacinthe was never known to com- plain of cold; on the contrary, even in winter he was hardly ever seen but in a perspiration. His dress suited his constitution, and generally consisted, in these peaceable times, of a pair of trowsers made of thin bed-ticking, a coat of blue linen, si- milar to that used in the manufacture of smock-frocks, and a yellow Mar- seilles waistcoat, which, by innume- rable visits to the blanchisseuse, had dwindled into a pale buff. In this costume he might be seen at Christ- mas, as at Midsummer, with the trifling difference, that at the latter period the waistcoat and shirt were invariably thrown open. Cravats, nay even stockings, were seldom con- sidered by him as necessary portions of apparel ; and a small straw hat, more by way of decency than use, crowned his bull's head, in manner similar to the worsted coronet of a blue-coat boy. His brother Mathieu, who now accompanied him, present- ed another example of the proverb, that " extremes meet." Without a warlike particle in his composition, he had, during the reign of Napo- leon, been attached to the droits re- utiis; and on the restoration, had ef- fected so sudden and so satisfactory a change in his opinions, that he was retained, as it were, in his former sphere as a sous-comptrolleur des contributions indirectes at Angers. As meagre and pale as his brother was fat and rosy, his size appeared even lessened by a faded olive great coat, which, although worn in the modern style, a la Brunswick, with- out a body-coat beneath, was fully capable of concealing the dozens of

THE THREE BROTHERS.

11

waistcoats wliich the peasant in his frolic dispossesses himself of in the ride of Astley's Amphitheatre. Its sleeves were of sufficient length to preclude the necessity of a muff or even gloves in the severest weather; from a continual junction of the cuffs his hands were seldom perceptible, and it required an affair of moment to derange this elegant position. On the present journey, a black silk nightcap, saturated with grease and perspiration, was covered by the green leathern cap worn by most artisans and mechanics in Belgium and many parts of France.

These were the travellers who now occupied the Hotel of the Three Emperors, a sign originating in the fraternal greetings of Napoleon, Francis, and Alexander; but, since the abdication of the former, it would require the presence of the Empe- ror of Morocco, or Iturbide of Mex- ico, to complete the trio. Their bag- gage consisted in the civilian's valise, and two or three cartons, or band- boxes, appertaining to his brother, who, imagining that his effects re- quired as little covering as himself, had confided them to the capricious protection of pasteboard. A chopine of Bourdeauxwas quickly demanded by the soldier, while Mathieu, in- veighing against intemperance, par- ticularly when travelling, ordered a glass of water, which he qualified by the addition of a lump or two of su- gar, the pocketed remnant of their breakfast at St. Pierre. Yielding, however, to his brother's remon- strances, that he ought to give some benefit to the house, he called for a biscuit or sponge-calce, and over this simple refreshment his mind wan- dered in forming estimates and ap- propriations of a relative's property,

the division of which formed the object of their journey. Monsieur Hyacinthe amused himself by cursing the roads of Brittany between each goblet, and fervently praying that Louis XVIII. mightbe forced, every day during the next fortnight, to tra- vel from Rennes to St. Malo; an ex- ercise which he had little doubt would improve both his health and the roads. A rumbling noise, simi- lar to distant thunder, echoed by repeated cries of " La diligence! la diligence /" broke off these lu- cubrations, and summoned the bro- thers to the continuation of their journey. 'Twas a vehicle well cal- culated for the roads, and as un- wieldy, in comparison with the gene- rality of public conveyances in France, as the latter when contrast- ed with those of England. The ma- jority of its passengers had alighted at St. Servan, as the respectable merchants of St. Malo have little else than their counting-houses in town, while their menage generally occu- pies a campagne in the neighbour- hood: this circumstance, added to the influx of about a thousand fo- reigners, chiefly from the western counties of England, has raised St. Servan from a small village to a bourg of considerable importance. A fare of twenty sous each was now de- manded, and instantly acceded to on the part of Hyacinthe; but Ma- thieu, who preferred, as he stated, the top of the coach on account of the view, obtained, after much bar- gaining, a passage for half the mo- ney. " Allans, messieurs! montess, monies /" cried the conducteur, and in a few minutes the machine began ploughing through the sand its de- scent towards the sea, till reaching that portion which had been covered C 2

12

THE THREE BROTHERS.

at high-water, it rolled on as smooth- ly as the cars on the Montagues Beaujon. In the caisse, or the in- ,sidc of the 'diligence, Madame Mar- tin, a shopkeeper's wife, betrayed immediately a particular regard for the sapeur, in explaining the various features of a superb marine view which then presented itself; the town of St. Malo in the centre of the picture; its peninsular rock rising in shape like a large cake from the sea ; its towering and perpendicular ramparts forming the side of the bonbon ; while the elliptical line of chimneys and house-tops might be assimilated to a profusion of decora- tion, surmounted by a central orna- ment furnished by the dwarf stee- ple of the principal church. To the right the Sillon, an extensive dyke, connected the town with the conti- nent, and afforded the only road to Normandy, and even to the south, when the inlet, or as it is there term- j ed, the Greve, is impassable. In the j late gales, the greater portion of the parapet of the dyke was washed down, when a similar fate threatened j the windmill, the only object which ! breaks the monotonous line of this breakwater. To the left of the town, the eye, in its progress towards the sea, is constantly arrested by an ar- chipelago of rocks and forts, offer- ing the miniature representation of a marine city, and rendering the har- bour difficult of access in peace as in war. This description of madame was soon interrupted by a hue and cry after the diligence, proceeding from an express from the Three Em- perors, who, on coming up with the conveyance, peevishly demanded one .90/ for the two biscuits with which Mathieuhad indulged himself to his eau sucrL The sous- comptrofflseikr

had, however, fallen asleep amidst the straw of the Imperial, leaving the view, the pretended object of his elevated situation, to the enjoyment of the inside passengers. He was, nevertheless, quickly made sensible of his omission, and obliged to com- ply with the demand, venting a curse on the cupidity of the Bretons with every Hard that he drew forth in sa- tisfaction of the claim. A warm al- tercation ensued between the bro- thers on this non-payment, and Ma- thieu would have chanted an end- less string of variations on their ex- tortion, as he termed a charge of li- ards, had not the fumes from his op- ponent's pipe, lighted at the particu- lar request of madame, who ex- pressed a vast predilection for tobac- co, in their ascent from the window, enveloped his head in smoke, when- ever he inclined over the roof to give additional force to his arguments.

The splashing of the horses' hoofs speedily drew their attention to the expanse of water they were now be- ginning to ford, and which, notwith- standing the serenity of the evening, was considerably agitated by the morning gale. They continued their aquatic progress for several minutes, till the water dashed against the axletrees; and yet, according to ma- dame, they were not in the deepest part. A row of wooden posts indi- cated their course, and although of- ten an uncomfortable passage, with common prudence, accidents were barely possible. The saline fluid, nevertheless, began oozing through the crevices at the bottom of the coach, and Hyacinthe, at madame's request, bellowed to the conductor to stop. On general consultation, it was universally admitted, that half an h'var must elapse ere they could

THE TIIHEE BROTHERS.

1;3

pursue their route; and the conduc- tor, who here acts equally as postil- lion, immediately detaching one of his leaders, returned to St. Servan, leaving the diligence, its three pas- sengers and horses, half sects over, to amuse themselves in such manner as they might think fit. The lofty situation of the Imperialist began, in his opinion, now to lose much of its attraction. Disturbed in a comfort- able nap, and fatigued with bawling after the conductor, who, in a few minutes, was seen galloping on shore, a fit of shivering attacked him, that obliged him to request his brother to permit and assist, by opening the door, his descent from the roof into the body of the machine. A few formal civilities followed his entrance, till madame, anxious to learn the object of their journe)', offered the services of herself and of Monsieur Martin in any commercial affairs they might have to transact at St. Malo. " We have no commercial business there," exclaimed Mathieu peevish- ly.— " Oh ! you are of course then about to embark for the West In- dies?"— "Neither. I have enough salt water at present to satisfy me for my life-time." Madame paused, and while planning the continuation of her interrogatory, Hyacinthe, in spite of repeated hints from his bro- ther, gratuitously informed her, that they were journeying to St. Malo in consequence of the death of a bro- ther, whom about that time they had expected to have shaken hands with. Unfortunately, on his return from Guadaloupe he had fallen overboard, and they had received notice to meet his correspondent at St. Malo, with the view of coming to some settle- ment in regard to his property, esti- mated at perhaps 100,000 francs. " Bah!" cried Mathieu angrily, " pro-

bably not half the money." — " Fifty or a hundred," rejoined the other, " I had much rather be on my journey to meet him alive." Mathieu was evidently screwing up his mouth for some sarcastic reply, but was inter- rupted by the lady requesting the name of their correspondent. " I have his letter with me," replied Hy- acinthe, who forthwith began analyz- ing a mass of torn and dirty docu- ments, many of which had been im- memorial tenants of the pocket of his linen coatee. " Were papers ever kept in such disorder?" ejaculated his brother: " passports, bills of ex- change, and bills of the play, all alike, and as a bit of paper, by him equally preserved." — " Here it is, nevertheless, and I request you will read it, as I have packed up my spectacles in one of the bandboxes:" but the tax-gatherer, anxious to avoid any exposure of his personal affairs, excused himself, alleging that, as the evening was far advanced, he might spoil his eyes. Madame, however, unwilling to let slip any opportunity of gratifying her curiosity, instantly offered her sen ices, and read as fol- lows :

St. Malo, Sept. — , 182— .

To Messrs. Hyacinthe and Mathieu Bernard. Gentlemen,

I inform you that your brother, M. Adolphe Lemaire, was accidentally drowned on his passage from Guadaloupe to this port. As I have become the de- positary of his papers and property (about 100,000 francs), I invite you to repair to this town on this day fortnight — [" Namely, to-morrow," interrupted Hyacinthe] — as particular business re- quires my presence at a neighbouring port till that period.

Accept the assurances of my high con- sideration, and believe me,

Etienne pe Vallery.

14

THE THREE BROTHERS.

" All, messieurs, you have here one of the first houses in St. Malo. M. de Vallery will do you justice — impossible to be in better hands." In refolding and returning the letter, it seemed as if madaine had something- farther to insinuate, which she hesi- tated to express. Hyacinthe urged her to favour them with any farther information, assuring her how grate- ful he felt already for her courtesy. " It is not that I can be of any far- ther assistance to you; but, sir, you have it in your power to render me a most essential service." — " Com- mand me, madame," cried the wine- merchant in all his military gallantry. " You appear an admirer of tobac- co, sir; so is my husband: but the trash that we get at St. Malo is a disgrace to the government, who, ne- vertheless, oblige us to give up, at a certain rate, every leaf we cultivate, and then, after undergoing God knows what preparation, a miserable compound is retailed at the debits de tabac, which would quickly cure any penchant for smoking; and mes- sieurs the douaniers are so strict, that the introduction of a better sort is a matter of difficulty. Might I request you to take a few hands of leaves in your pocket? They seldom or ever search the person of a tra- veller, and if they do, the quantity will be so small as to preclude any- unpleasant consequences." — " With the greatest pleasure," replied the son of Mars, whose acme of glory in these peaceable days consisted in cheating an exciseman or any officer of the Bourbon government. " You see, sir," continued Madame Martin, " I am fully provided;" and opening her pelisse, discovered some hun- dreds of leaves falling from the waist, in the maimer of a Peruvian kilt, and

sufficient for a twelvemonth's con- sumption of no ordinary smoker. Taking a farther quantity from a small basket, she turned to Mathieu, who had remained a passive but at- tentive observer, and begged to know whether she might also trouble him, remarking, that he had sufficient space to conceal a myriagramme, without the remotest chance of de- tection. " I never defraud the re- venue," growled the cynic in reply ; but after a few moments' reflection, he consented, out of regard for his brother, to take a small portion. Ma- dame Martin had completed the par- tial transfer of her property, when, uttering a loud shriek, she gathered together the remaining leaves with the utmost precipitation. Hyacinthe raised his eyes and beheld at the win- dow the face of his deceased bro- ther. The features of the phantom were somewhat different from what he recollected them at their separa- tion, but a fiery atmosphere which enveloped the head left no doubt in his mind of a supernatural agency. He could only exclaim, " 'Tis he! 'tis he !" and sunk back in the coach. The attentions of Mathieu, who was ignorant of the cause of this scene, from having at the first alarm sought the other window, assisted by the lady's jiacon of eau de Cologne, suc- ceeded shortly in producing a copi- ous perspiration, which afforded considerable relief. With his looks still bent on the window, he could for some time only articulate, " My brother!" and the anxiety of madame for his recovery made her forget for the moment her fears of having been surprised, and information laid at the custom-house by the indivi- dual whose impertinent curiosity had been the cause of her shriek. 'Twas

RECOLLECTIONS OF WEST MILL.

15

long ere Hyacinthe could, with tears in his eyes, assure them that he had beheld the figure of his brother who had recently been drowned. " Bah !" cried Mathieu, " your expectations of his property have turned your brain : but at any rate, do not in fu- ture vaunt the courage so much, ■which trembles at the sight of a dou- anier; for I have no doubt Madame Martins suspicions are better found- ed."— " There are no custom-house officers where he is," was all Hya- cinthe's reply, and, heaving a deep sigh, he mustered resolution to look out in search of the vision; but the

sun had just set, and a fog was steal- ing over the waters, which by this time had considerably abated: a horse's step at length caught his ear, and after straining his eyeballs, the return of their conductor replunged him into a profound melancholy, and relieved the rest of the party from their unpleasant situation. To the various inquiries, whether he had heard or seen any thing pass the wa- ter, he declared it almost impossible. A few minutes now carried them on to dry land, and soon after they drew up at the gate of St. Malo. (To be continued.)

RECOLLECTIONS

Of West Mill, Foxearth, in the County of Essex, the Residence of Robert Lanchester, Esq. and its immediate Vicinity. Written in the month of Sep- tember 1822.

By J. M. Lacey.

Mem'ry! I court thy power, thy wondrous

pow'r, That takes us back to any by-gone hour; To any scene, or terrible or fair, Oue instant of thy influence brings us there : Then aid me, Mem'ry, while my pen shall

trace Each recollection of a well-lov'd place, Where I have linger'dmany a happy day, Call'd anddetain'd by Friendship's charmful

sway. And first, the house, of plain and simple

form, Yet modern, and defying every storm Without, while all within of comfort tells; Its style appears to say, u Here plenty

dwells." And then its inmates: if a strife they find, 'Tis how they best shall welcome, best be

kind ; And with unwearied zeal, beyond controul, Feast not the body only, but the soul.

The garden, stretching by the river's side, Its choice fruits hanging o'er the gentle tide, Invites the mind, where poesy has pow'r, To thought, while loit'ring in the leafy bow'r; Or, in bright youth with beauty there to

rove, Might teach a Stoic's heart the pow'r of love;

Or, if deep sorrow had destroy'd man's

peace, Here Contemplation's calm might bid it

cease, If but Religion came with balmy pow'r, To bless the thoughtful, solitary hour. I need not here describe its plants, its roots, Its fish-pond, or its trees, its flow'rs, its

fruits ; Useful and sweet indeed they were to me, As oft I wateh'd the curious, busy bee Seeking its hive with far-fetch'd honeyed

store, Or leaving it, again to gather more.

Wonderful insect! teaching still to man How insignificant his mightiest plan, When close compar'd witli labours such as

thine, Who buildest without compass, rule, or line, Beginning at the top thy wondrous dome, And working downwards till complete tliy

home; Filling each waxen cell with nectar sweet, Which cruel man forbids that you should

eat : He, when autumnal, flow'rless hours shall

come, With sulph'rous fires will visit thy sweet

home,

Id

RECOLLECTIONS OE WEST MILL.

Doom a whole race to death, and take thy

store, To give his appetite one lux'ry more !

The lazy Stour, that winding- creeps along In serpentine seclusion, wakes the song From me, an angler, who has dar'd to hlame Others for cruelty, yet seeks his game ."Beneath the surface o? the silver tide, And finds in it a pleasure and a pride: .Such is weak man, to his own failings blind, But prone another's fancied faults to find.

Yet, gentle Stour, along thy grassy bank, Fring'd with the salix, and with wild weeds

rank, I've wander'd many an hour, with rod and

line, Mature and silent contemplation mine ; Have gaz'd upon the distant wood-crown'd

hill, Where stood the farm-house or the busy

mill; Or watch'd the shepherd at the upland fold, Where lately wnv'd a crop of living gold; Till on the zephyr's breath was gently borne The distant summons of the signal horn, Warning me, that the mid-day meal was

spread, When homeward I return'd with hasty tread. At other times a walk was deemed good, rcrehance an up-hill stroll to Aldham's

wood, Which rears on high its green fantastic

crown, And seems to look majestically down On all the beauteous vale that spreads below, When lighted up by morning's fervid glow. Here, at its highest point, I've paus'd to

gaze, Sercen'd by an oak from Sol's too potent

blaze, And sent my fancy forth along the vale, As wild and blithesome as the summer gale. There, Fancy said, nor want nor woe can be ; So sweet a spot from sickness must be free : Here man's worst passions ne'er can find a

home; Where so much peace prevails, crime cannot

come ! Alas ! Truth dissipated Fancy's thought, And in a whisper, with conviction fraught, Shew'd me that man, where'er he rears his

cot, Will soon or late find mingled with his lot, All that my fancy with delight so keen, Had deein'd could never visit such n scene. Another day, a ride was thought the best To break the tedium of too long a rest; for gentle exe-rciM- we ever find Invigorates the body and the mind.

Gives to the stomach all its healthful play,

And drives the demon ennui away.

But our best ride was that when Sunday

came, The day of rest and peace, whose holy claim Alike should call the affluent and the poor To seek with humbleness the sacred door, Whether of village church with lowly tow'r, Or proud cathedral rcar'd by pomp and

pow'r; There to pour forth in penitence and pray'r Their inmost hearts for God's all-gracious

care. Foxcarth ! thy humble fane has no vain

show, To bid the mind extraneous feelings know ; No fretted roof, no painted windows smile, No gaudy gildings decorate the aisle ; No pictur'd altar-piece is found, to share With God's commandments ev'ry idler's

stare. The congregation comes not there to gaze, . Cut to put up its mingled pray'rs and praise ; To hear from one, who in his secret soul Appears to feel the Godhead's great con-

troul ; From one, whose life from vice and envy

free, Is what a pastor's life should ever be ; The gospel, word of love, and grace and

peace, That bids all ruder passions sink and cease. So have I heard, and better'd by the theme, Have gone away, of higher tilings to dream, Than earth's bright baubles and intruding

care, Which all, the had, the good, the great must

share. Nor shall the singers pass without a line: What though no brilliautsemiquavers shine The lowly troop of choristers among, Nor organ, trumpet-tongued, help out their

song, Their humble hymn of praise, to give it zest; Let letter singers think these do their best; And, let me ask, what more could Br aha m do, Or all the tone-dividing, trilling crew ? This may offend the ear where taste is giv'n, But is as welcome at the throne of heav'n. But ere I cease, let Foxearth's simple- street, Its cottages so plain, and jret so neat, Their gardens stretching to the pathway's

side, Gardens that seem to be their owners' pride, With graceful poplars nodding o'er the way ; All these in Fancy's ear full plainly say, That much of comfort, 'mid domestic eare, With, all their poverty these people share:

REMARKS ON THE POPULAR PREJUDICES AGAINST OLD MAIDS.

17

Otic reason is, that search the parish round, No inn nor humbler alehouse will be found. West .Mill, farewell! friends of my heart,

adieu ! In London's crowded haunts I'll think of

you;

Think of your scenes of peace, your quiet

hours, Your gentle stream, and all its leafy bow'rs ; Your friends, your church, your preacher's

pious strain, And not without a hope to see them all again.

REMARKS ON THE POPULAR PREJUDICES AGAINST

OLD MAIDS.

There is scarcely a character in life which has been so much the sub- ject of illiberal animadversion as that of an old maid. It has been the ob- ject at which contempt hath ever pointed the finger, vulgarity the jest, and wit its sarcasm.

That a proportion of those who come under this denomination have presented but too fair a mark for the attack, it is not attempted to be denied. Praise or censure, however, when applied to any particular cast or description of persons, is too in- discriminate to be just in its applica- tion to many individuals of it; and this observation applies, with pecu- liar force, to the subject of the fol- lowing remarks.

Did we but use half the diligence in finding out the excellences of those around us which we employ in scru- tinizing their defects, in how many instances might we trace a life of ce- libacy to motives and principles which should excite rather our admiration and applause, than censure or con- tempt ! Much has been said of the fickleness of woman's disposition, but examples of constancy the most de- voted are by no means rare among them; and how numerous are the in- stances of women who, having once fixed their affections, have known no second love! Untoward circumstan- ces may have divided her from the object of her regard ; parental autho- rs. II No. VII.

rity may have forbidden their union ; the chill blast of poverty may have passed over them ; but though it wi- ther the blossom of her love, it cannot destroy the tree, for that is rooted in her heart. Finally, perhaps the grave opens between them, and the being she most loved is become as the " clod of the valley." But this does not change her; his memory is still cherished, though its nourishment be tears. The idea of another filling his place is a kind of profanation from which her mind revolts. No, her feelings are changed in name on- ly; they are essentially the same, springing from the same source, and pointing to the same object, which still exists, although in another re- gion. Let the opponents of the doc- i trine of a future state say what they j may, the ideas of death and annihila- I tionarenot naturally associates in the human breast, and in none less than i in that of affection mourning over its departed object. The anticipation of a meeting hereafter is still cherish- ed, and although that hope will be vague or definite, in proportion as the mind which indulges it is im- bued with religion, it still exists, and in sufficient force to preclude the de- spair consequent upon worldly losses and disappointments of any other na- ture.

Another case may be cited as not improbable, although, it may be urg- D

IB

REMARKS ON THE POPULAR PREJUDICES AGAINST OLD MAIDS.

ed, of rare occurrence. A woman, possessed of the finest and most deli- cate feelings, may have placed her affections on one who may not return them, and that so strongly, that the conviction of the utter hopelessness of her love may not annihilate it. She is too generous and too amiable to entertain either envy or jealousy, in- habitants only of little minds. This is a case combining all the wretched- ness of the preceding one, without any of its consolation. The heart- sickening anguish of " hope defer- red" falls infinitely short of this. In what a variety of instances, were the truth known, might to such a cause be traced the pale cheek and the wasted form, which have baffled the skill of the physician, who knew not that the disease was seated in her " heart of hearts," — " mcdicab'dh ?udlis fierbis,"

It is with shame and a blush for my own sex that I add another case, I fear of more frequent occurrence than either of the former. A woman may have yielded her heart to one whom she imagined to be all that was ex- cellent and amiable in man. She may have exalted him into the very idol of her heart, loving him with all a woman's fondness, and trusting him with all that generous confidence that characterizes a virtuous woman's love. He proves unworthy of her affection, lie slights her in the wan- tonness of a fickle heart, or, in the baseness of a sordid one, he quits her for another. It is true, she casts from her the viper which the warmth of her bosom had fostered, but the venom of its tooth is yet rankling in her heart. It has been asserted of the females who form the subject of this paper, (hat they are railers against the other sex. Ought it, 1

would ask, to excite either our cen- sure or surprise, if a woman, in the bitterness of such a disappointment, or in the remembrance of it, which would accompany her to the tomb, condemn the whole sex for the in- jury she has sustained from one? " Ex uno disce btntie&" is a motto which we are but too ready in ap- plying to the class to which she be- longs, and she may with equal justice apply it to us.

Now, in each or any of these cases, it may happen that, however keen their mental sufferings may be, a na- tural strength of constitution may have protracted them to advanced years ; but the feelings which reflect- ed honour on their youth are equally honourable to their age : for it is a new doctrine, that the permanency of a good motive or principle detracts from the valup or the merit of it.

It is often asserted, that celibacy among women is attributable either to an insensibility to the passion in themselves, or the inability to excite it in others: of many this may he true, but the foregoinc; cases would so far to prove, that the same effect is often produced by the very opposite cause.

With regard to the general ridi- cule or reproach which appears to attach to the class of women who are styled" old maids," it may be true of them, as it is of many other descrip- tions of persons, that the bad conduct of a few has brought disgrace upon the many; and in endeavouring to de- pict one of such individuals, I shall not make any selection either from the old or the ugly.

Has the reader never seen a being of the class of " old maids" on whose face the traces of departed beauty yet linger, and on whose clouded brow the tempest of ungoverned passion,

Rl'-.MAUKS ON THE POPULAR PREJUDICES AGAINST OLD MAIDS.

19

or the habitual indulgence of ill-hu- mour, has planted many an untimely furrow? Take her history from me. Nature had bestowed upon her all those external graces which in wo- man are so attractive, and which, having early discovered the power of them, she resolved to bring, in the true mercantile sense of the word, to the best market.

Possessed of a cold heart, she could coquet without danger, and in the course of her gay but calculating pursuit had slighted or betrayed many a fond heart that would have truly loved her. But love was not the commodity for which she sought; a suitor's purse, and not his merit, was thrown into the scale against her own imagined value ; and, vanity be- ing always ready with the false ba- lance, they were weighed, and ever found wanting. As a natural conse- quence, to use a homely but most appropriate phrase, she overstood her market. Her charms after a time began to fade, but it was long ere she made the discovery: her mir- ror, like the prophetess of the devot- ed city, though it spoke the truth, was not believed ; nor was she awak- ened to a sense of the decline of her once boasted beauty, until the fail- ure of the attentions and admira- tion which followed it indicated the change. A few ineffectual attempts were made to regain the homage she had lost. Art was resorted to where nature had failed; the man- ners and the dress of her youthful days were affected; but every arti- fice was over, and the faded beauty was neglected by all. To mix in the gay circles where she once reigned II with such absolute sway is now but to encounter mortification and defeat, j She finds the glittering toys which it

has been the grand employment of her life to secure, and to which she eagerly clung to the last, one by one elude her grasp, and she is left a lone being in the world, without one mental resource or a single valuable friend. Sympathy she finds none. The shafts of ridicule and satire fly fast and thick around her, and no one pities her. She has the addition- al mortification of beholding many of her acquaintance, the humility of whose views she once despised, the mothers of happy families. This excites her envy, and when envy en- ters the bosom, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness but too quickly follow. Having now no motives or inducement for restraining or con- cealing them, her naturally violent passions and untoward temper break forth, and all around her are her prey. Woe to the unhappy being whom fortune has made dependent upon her bounty, or subject to her controul! Busy to discover, and ea- ger to magnify, the errors and im- perfections of others, a tale of scan- dal, or the story of " an erring sis- ter's shame," is the highest gratifi- cation to her malevolent heart. In a word, she lives a plague to her rela- tives, a nuisance to her neighbours, a scourge to her servants, and a tor- ment to herself.

That such characters, hideous as is the picture, do exist, there is but too little reason to doubt; but, while we pray they may be £e\v, we have the consolation of knowing that there are others, who, coming under the same general denomination of old maids, are as amiable as these are the reverse ; and from my own expe- rience I will appeal to that of others, and inquire if, when they look around them, thev do not behold many of D %

20

WORCESTER IN 1823.

this class of females exercising all the charities of life, administering to the wants of the necessitous, as if, having no families of their own, they had adopted those of the poor and the friendless.

In conclusion, I would apply to this subject a rule equally applicable to many others in which popular pre- judice is concerned; namely, that we

should never judge of any particular class or denomination of persons, by the conduct of one or two individu- als who form part of it, or of indivi- duals by the class to which they be- long; but to estimate every man <per se, without reference to his nation, rank, or profession, or to any other circumstance equally beyond his con- troul. W.II.H.

WORCESTER in 1823.

You wish, my dear Tarleton, that I would give you some account of Worcester; and tell me that, rattle as I am, I must have seen as much of it in three months, as some would in seven years : I therefore attempt to gratify you in as brief a manner as I can, although such a task re- quires all my resolution to achieve it.

If you enter Worcester from the London road as I did, and on a wet day, you will wish yourself once more in our great city : but if you come from Malvern, cest tout autre chose; you then arrive at this city through a charming broad turnpike road, over a very handsome stone bridge; but the magnificent hills of Malvern will be behind you. You will, however, view the fine cathe- dral, injured indeed in appearance, as it seems to rise from a row of red houses : on the left is the elegant tall spire of St. Andrew's, surrounded by various other church-steeples: you then enter a handsome street called Bridge-street, and thence proceeding to the High and Foregate-street, you are in the city of Worcester. If the visit be on a Saturday, or in the hop season, you may almost fancy your- self in Cheapside.

The principal lions in Worcester are the cathedral and the porcelain-

works. The cathedral is in the pointed style of architecture; C. will not let me call it Gothic, so great an enthusiast is he in that style of build- ing. It is kept in what I thought capital order, being thoroughly neat and clean ; but again C. objects to this: he says, that in whitewashing the building so frequently, much of the beautiful tracery and the finest mouldings are injured; and I dare say he is right. Well, and what does he gain by it? Why, he grum- bled all the time we were going over the building, while I was delighted. I attended there also on Sunday last, and can bear witness to the order and decorum which was observed during the whole of the service, even to the singing-boys, one of whom brought me a book as soon as I entered ; and this attention C. said it was that has made me the eulogist of this place. It cost our friend Brevet half-a-crown on his entrance: he went with his military boots on, consequently spur- red, when an urchin in a white sur- plice told him he must pay him a forfeit. B. applied to the verger, but it is a custom here, which the young rogue who claimed the fine insisted upon, and he ran off with his boot}', for the voluntary was com- mencing.

WORCESTER IN 1823.

21

Here is an exquisite monument by Roubillac to the momory of Bishop Hough, which forms of itself a host of attraction. He is represented rising from a sarcophagus, his hands clasped, and his eyes raised towards heaven. It is a great pity, as C. says, that any thing unholy in art is per- mitted to come near it, for it is in the grandest style of art. Independent of blubbering boys, there are indeed one or two sad abortions of art, whose only apology seems to be, that they are executed by native artists, one in particular, where is represented a lady seated. This is equal to that by Roubillac, but only in its size. There is, however, a very respecta- ble monument to the memory of Sir Thomas Street, by Wilton. I had nearly forgotten one or two rather pretty things by the younger Bacon, one lately erected to the memory of Colonel Ellis: but this is nothing, where the finger of Roubillac is seen on the wall. Gallant soldiers falling into the arms of a lady called Victory, or Mesdames Glory and Concord weaving wreaths, are but feeble personifications. The tomb of our King John, whose figure is so ably depicted in poor Stothard's mo- numental effigies, lies near the com- munion-table in the cathedral, and will much interest you, if you view it as I did, warm from the novel of Ivanhoe : nor must the cathedral pulpit be forgotten.

But come, let us leave the cathe- dral, for it is cold amusement in these buildings. Allons for the porcelain- works: these will afford you amuse- ment for the rest of the day. Here you would be at home, and yet not be ready to cry for every toy you saw, as I almost was. How delight-

ful to behold the forms which the clay takes from the plastic hand of the workman! and how interesting to watch each process, till the burnt materials arrive at a fit state for the painter ! I am certain you would be for trying your pencil, in spite of the smell of the colours. I scarcely know which to commend most, the richness of design by winch the se- veral vessels were adorned, or the politeness with which we were re- ceived by Messrs. Barrs, the pro- prietors. I have generally felt an unpleasantness, on the reflection of the shortness of my purse, when I go to view only productions by which the displayer gets his livelihood ; but here I found myself perfectly at ease, for the proprietors of this house ap- pear to take such pleasure in the delight you receive, as almost to make you believe you are conferring a favour, instead of receiving one. Your uncle much admired a vase exquisitely painted by a deceased artist of the name of Baxter : he was an exhibitor at the Royal Academy, and, according to C. author of a work on Grecian Costume.

At Chamberlain's porcelain-works we saw a model of the Warwick vase in biscuit, but they' have omit- ted the masks. The younger Chamberlain is himself an artist, and paints heraldry beautifully. Having dropt a douceur into the " workmen's box," we will, if you please, stroll up the Foregate-street, for it is getting on for three o'clock, and four is the latest hour of dining here; indeed after two the streets are as forsaken as if the plague had depopulated the place. In this city they copy their betters in London in the prac- tice of promenading in the streets,

99

WORCESTER IN 1823.

instead of the fields or park. At about one you will see all the beauty and fashion of Worcester; and you may tell Eliza, if you please, some very pretty girls too, and as merry souls as ever danced quadrilles.

Talking of quadrilles puts me in mind of the town-hall, where they are danced. It has an exterior suf- ficiently sombre to try criminals with- in; and this Inigo Joncs-is/t building is surmounted with bandy-legged .statues: but inwardly this edifice is commodiously elegant, and bears vi- sible marks of a visit paid to this city by our late revered George III. But the Foregate - street and the promenade; aye, why it is the finest street I ever saw out of London. It was near the back of this street that the grandmothers of the -present ge- neration swept the lawn in saques and j// Ho rees, hoops and farthingales. In Foregate-street you enjoy plenty of air, for it is almost as wide as Bedford-row, and as respectable in its tout-ensemble. The theatre has but a sorry exterior, although the Kembles and the Sidjdonses, the Keans and the 0'Neils,have strutted and fretted their hour on its stage. Booksellers' shops are not wanting ; you may read the paper, or skim the last new novel by the author of AVaverley. They have also an ex- cellent public library.

The parties here are very delight- ful: we have had much card-playing and dancing; but as all do as they like, there is much conversation as well. Public and private concerts are not unfrcquent, at which many amateurs assist; and I was very much delighted with some airs I heard sung by a gentleman of this city, whose name I forget, but it Mas

something like Clinton : he and his wife gave us their parts in the Mil- ler's duet beautifully.

Here are likewise two papers pub- lished. My uncle takes in one, which he is very fond of; it is called Bcr- roivs Worcester Journal. "Berrow's paper," says my uncle, " does not give us any original article, and therefore those who are fond of what you call strong writing, will not per- haps approve of it; but you may take the word of an old clergyman, when he says, that you will find as much in it of real matter of met, and as early intelligence too, as in any provincial paper; and what's more, you may put it into the hands of any of your family without the least fear of contamination; and that is saying a great deal now-a-days," concluded the old gentleman: not but that its fellow paper is also re- spectably conducted.

A gentleman here, I am told, some time since established an ex- hibition of art, which proved highly creditable to this city, its professors and patrons: but, alas! the election of a member radically wrong lea- vened nearly the whole lump — one, one only was faithful found — and in a moment, although rich in pecuniary and professional gain, the members dissolved themselves, like the base- less fabric of a vision, leaving the unfortunate amateur no praise for his exertions. We saw some very pretty views by Thornycroft; land- scapes by Doe, Smith, Young, &c; and some excellent game and horses by Pittman : the latter a self-taught artist of real excellence.

During my stay here I have been introduced to an extraordinary old lady, who is very deaf, but she has

TIIF. CASTLE AND THE FARM.

23

something of the gift of the impro- visafori. I send you one of her productions: remember, it is the work of a lady nearly eighty years of age, and surely unique as to subject.

THE ADVANTAGE OF DEAFNESS. That deafness prevails, I need not declare; It will by conversing plainly appear: To fret would be vain, to grieve do no good, For facts so well known, by my friends un- derstood. I love not to dwell on subjects that vex, Or why my ears fail, my brain much perplex: Still, as in all there's a good and a bad, We'll try to discern the good to he had ; Which, it must be owned, is of negative

kind, And which some wiser heads it may puzzle

to find: Yet, as it positive ills may prevent, My time may in tracing them not be misspent.

On rising I'm told, there happen'd last night An alarm in the town : " We were waked in

a fright; The rattles were sprung, the engines drawn

by,

And Fire! lire! fire! was the terrible cry. 'Twas morning before we gain'd any rest; Hut not to wake you we thought would be the best."

When thunder rolling with its awful pow'r Breaks the soft slumbers of the midnight

hour; While trembling nerves, oppress'd with sla- vish fear, May deemsome heavy judgment to be near; Or rushing winds the looscn'd tiles o'erthrow, And spread them clattering on the path

below, Which, to have heard, might reason strong

appal, Such serious mischief might attend the fall: Should thus confusion o'er the house prevail, I unmolested sleep, nor fears assail.

Were women all perfect, men mostly right; Was converse just held to improve or delight; In heat of discourse, did we never say ought But would bear the ti st of a cool after- thought ; Was all what it should be, my case might

seem hard, To be from a general converse uebarr'd : But as the best are at all times led aside, By humour perhaps, or by passion or pride, I'll take the right way, nor vainly lament, Enjoy my own thoughts, be more than con- tent : Still the advantage, I freely must own, Of deafness, must long be felt to be known.

The proximity of Worcester to Cheltenham and Malvern causes an intercourse with much beauty and fashion. It partakes also of the pic- turesque scenery of Wales ; the mag- nificent Severn running through its rich pastures, lost behind its hills, and again appearing in its valleys ; while the grand outline of the Mal- vern hills meeting the eye at every turn, blue and misty in the twilight, or gilded by the. noontide sun, are grand features. Were I not a Lon- doner born and bred, gladly would I reside in Worcester. Tell Robert, who is a bit of an antiquarian, that Worcestershire abounds also in an- tiquities ; that it was the seat of war between Charles and the Parliament ; and that it is rich in minerals and pic- turesque beauty.

And now, wondering at my own industry, having tired you and my- self, I remain, dear Tarleton, your affectionate cousin,

M. P.

THE CASTLE AND THE FARM,

Or the Foster-Brothkrs: A Talc. Towards the end of the 17th ceil- one of his estates in the environs of

tury, the Marquis de Blainmore, an officer of rank in the French army, quitted the service, and retired to

Toulouse, with the intention of pass- ing the evening of his days in the tranquil enjoyment of rural :

24

THE CASTLE AND THE FARM.

The pride of birth was a leading- trait in the character of the marquis, but it was softened by a natural kindness of heart: never was he known to make an unjust use of the power which lie possessed over his vassals ; he treat- ed them as men, not as slaves, and he was in return loved by them as a fa- ther, and revered as a master. The marquis was a widower, and, to his great regret, childless. As, however, he was not quite fifty, he determined to try whether a second marriage would not give him an heir; and ac- cordingly he paid his addresses to the Comtesse de St. Julian, a widow of good birth, pretty, and still young, at least comparatively so, for she call- ed herself thirty : it is true she might have added some half dozen years more, but the marquis was contented to take her word. He prosecuted his suit with vigour, and the fair wi- dow, though she had scarcely thrown oft' her weeds for a husband whom she had adored, soon yielded to his prayers, and pronounced at the foot of the altar that irrevocable yes which linked her destiny to his.

As the marquise had not, any more than her spouse, a taste for the plea- sures of the great world, she readily consented to remain at the Chateau de Blainmore, where before the end of the year she presented the mar- quis with the so much-desired heir. Ah! with what joy did he clasp the little stranger in his arms ! how ten- derly did he thank its mother for the inestimable gift she had bestowed up- on him ! " Heaven be praised !" cried he, " my family, one of the most an- cient and illustrious in France, will not now sink into oblivion." The marquis forgot how frail must be our dependence on an infant's life; but what man, who is for the first time a

father at nearly fifty, does not do the same? Already did he in imagination see the sons of this infant filling posts in the army and the ministry : such are frequently the projects of fathers for their children, but seldom indeed are they realized.

The wife of one of the marquis's farmers, a young woman, who had recently lain -in of her first child, was engaged as a nurse to the young heir, to whom his parents gave the name of Charles, and added to it the title of Comte de Beausejour, from an estate of the marquis's.

The young and comely nurse, who was little more than eighteen, re- ceived a thousand charges from the fond parents to be careful of their darling. She immediately weaned her own son, then about four months old. The marquis and his lady were delighted with the healthy and robust appearance of this child, as it gave them the greatest reason to hope that theirs would thrive equal- ly ; and indeed in the very frequent visits which they made to the farm, they had the greatest reason to be satisfied with the care of his nurse.

When Charles was about six months old, the marchioness received a letter from St. Domingo, which acquainted her with the death of a rich uncle, whose heir she was. This event obliged the noble couple to make a voyage to St. Domingo: they parted from their boy with great re- luctance, for he was too young to accompany them. They gave Mar- garet a thousand charges to be care- ful of him, accompanied with pro- mises of reward if they were satisfied with her. They entreated also some friends, in whom they could confide, to have an eye upon the child ; and having taken all the care they could

THE CASTtK AND THE FARM.

25

to prevent his suffering by their ab- ' sence, they set sail with heavy hearts to take possession of the splendid property which awaited them in St. Domingo.

Mindful of her many promises to the marchioness, Margaret never re- laxed in her attentions to the young heir, who grew a very fine child. Margaret devoted her time princi- pally to him and his foster-brother. Sometimes she would amuse herself by dressing the children in each other's clothes; and on these occa- sions, she could never sufficiently admire how much her Frederic be- came the habit of the little comte. Her husband, who was many years older than herself, was much dis- pleased with this childishness. — " What harm is it?" cried Margaret; " is Charles the worse for wearing, during a few minutes, the clothes of his foster-brother?" — " No," answer- ed Maurice, " but if any friend of the marquis should chance to come in and report it to them, I am sure they would be angry: I desire there- fore, wife, that there may be no more of this folly." Margaret promised that there should not, and kept her word for a day or two ; but the re- membrance of Frederic's beauty in Charles's clothes soon overcame her prudent resolutions, and satisfying herself that her husband was not likely to return and interrupt her, she set about decking her darling in the finery of the little comte.

While she was sinking to the child in the gaiety of her heart, the door opened, and a young man of noble appearance announced himself as the friend of the Marquis de Blainmore. Poor Margaret was thunderstruck : already she thought she saw the

Vol. II. No. VII.

prediction of her husband complete- ly verified ; her folly would no doubt be soon reported to the marquis, and she should lose her nursling, and, what was worse, incur the anger of the family. While she stood stupi- fied, the stranger began caressing the child. " This is a lovely crea- ture," cried he ; " is he the son of my friend?" — "Oh! yes, sir," cried the bewildered Margaret. — " He i3 wonderfully grown for his age." — " Yes, sir," again repeated the trem- bling Margaret. — " Well, I shall have a good account to send to my friend ; the boy does you great cre- dit, and I dare say you love him as if he was your own." A third " Yes, sir," had hardly passed the lips of the nurse, when a servant-girl burst into the room, carrying a screaming child, whom she presented to Mar- garet, with a declaration that the little lord was certainly killed, but it was not her fault.

No language can paint the situa- tion of the poor detected culprit. Volmar began to address her in a voice of thunder, but suddenly checking himself, he snatched the child, in order to examine where the hurt was, commanding the girl, at the same time, to tell him how it had happened. Her account was, that she had climbed a haycock with the child in her arms; the house- dog had snatched at her petticoat in play as she was getting up, and in trying to disengage it, she had let the child foil upon a rake which hap- pened to be under the haycock : the teeth of this instrument had entered his thigh and part of his leg.

This account, and the sight of the blood, reduced Margaret to utter despair : while she did nothing but E

26

THE CASTLE AND THE FARM.

cry and wring her hands, the vis- count sent to summon the village surgeon, and, previous to his arrival, washed the blood from the wounds of the screaming infant. Happily the hurts were not dangerous ; even the surgeon, much as he wished to make a job of it, had not the confi- dence to predict any fatal catastro- phe. He applied a little salve, con- gratulated Volmar on the young comtes falling into the hands of a man of his own extraordinary skill, and allowed, that he should be able to complete the cure in eight or ten dressings at most. He then took his leave ; and the nurse, who by this time had recovered some degree of recollection, threw herself at the feet of the viscount. " Ah! sir," cried she, " for heaven's sake have pity upon me ! If you betray what has passed, we are ruined for ever. It is the first time that I have ever trusted Charles to the care of an- other, it shall be the last; and from this moment, I swear to you, sir, that I never again will be guilty of the folly of exchanging the children's clothes: it was that circumstancewhich induced me to tell you the falsehood I did, though, heaven knows, with no ill intention. You do not answer me ? Ah ! sir, is it possible that you will be so cruel as to draw upon me the hatred of my generous lord and lady r

At this moment Maurice entered the room: the sight of his wife in tears, and kneeling to a stranger, together with her last words, had given him a clue to her secret ; but the reproaches with which he began to load her were stopped by the Viscount Volmar, who, touched with the excess of her penitence, pro- mised to conceal the past, though he

did not fail to lay great stress upon the future; and plainly assured her, that he would cause a strict eye to be kept upon her motions, and that the least failure in her duty to the child would occasion him to reveal what he had seen to the marquis and his lady. Margaret did not fail to promise liberally, and Volmar quit- ted her with a declaration that he would soon see her again. Circum- stances, however, prevented him from keeping this promise: he was then on his way to Marseilles to meet a young lady, to whom he had long been engaged, and whom he soon afterwards married.

The marquis and his lady found their affairs much more difficult to arrange than they had expected : two years passed before they had put them in order ; they then began to make preparations for their return, when the marchioness was taken very ill, and this occasioned a delay of some months more. At last she re- covered sufficiently to undertake the voyage, and they set out on their return to France. Let us leave them prosperously pursuing their way to their native country, and see how the family at the farm are going on.

Alas! a sad change has taken place there since the visit of Viscount de Volmar. Maurice was troubled with a complaint in his eyes, and impa- tient at its long continuance, had the imprudence to use a quack medi- ij cine, which, in a short time, render- ed him totally blind. This was a heavy blow, but Maurice met it with resignation: not so Margaret; her grief was extreme, and it was some time before the religious arguments and gentle soothings of her husband could rouse her from despondence. The children throve equally, but

THE CASTLE AND THE FARM.

27

Charles was much the stoutest of the two. Frederic, though four months older, was not his equal in strength and activity. They lived like bro- thers, and this circumstance was now Margaret's only comfort. Often did she repeat to her husband, " If the parents of Charles should not return for a few years, he will then grow so fond of our son, that he will not bear to be parted from him." By degrees her imagination converted the possibility of this event into a certainty, when all at once her hopes were crushed by a letter announcing the speedy return of the marquis and marchioness.

" Ah! my God," cried she, burst- ing into tears, " we shall then be ruined ! They will take Charles home, and as you cannot now manage the farm, it will be given to another, and we shall no longer have a home to shelter us, or bread to eat." — " Wife," cried Maurice in a severe tone, " how often must I remind you that God will never forsake those who trust in him? He has hitherto preserved us from want ; why should you doubt that he will continue to do so? or why think that our master, one of the best and most humane of men, will abandon in misfortune those who have been parents to his child?" At these words, Margaret, trembling, cast herself into the arms of her hus- band, and wept upon his bosom. — " Come, come, wife, cheer up!" con- tinued he; " I dare say you are thinking of Charles's unfortunate ac- cident ; but, thank God, he is not a suf- ferer by it, and in all other respects you have done your duty well by him." — " But," interrupted Marga- ret eagerly, " do you think that M. de Volmar has really been silent about that?" — " To be sure I do ; he

is an honest man, and no doubt would keep his word." — " Then," cried Margaret, " all may be well : the scar is now quite worn out ; at least if one did not know what had happened, one would not perceive it." — " Very well then, cease to tor- ment yourself about that. Have you kept carefully the money I put by for our rent?" — " Oh! yes, it is untouched." — "So much the better; our generous master, who has alrea- dy sent us so much, will see that we do not want to abuse his bounty."

The marquis and his lady arrived in safety, and were transported with joy at the sight of their healthy, har- dy boy, who was very evidently the spoiled pet of his nurse. His dot- ing parents, however, found in his rudeness, obstinacy, and petulance, only indications of a high spirit and a noble soul, and Margaret was thank- ed again and again for the care with which she had formed the temper of their charming boy. But thanks were not all that the generous couple be- stowed upon the tender nurse and her worthy husband : sensibly touch- ed by the misfortune of the latter, the marquis returned to him every shilling of his rent, installed him and his wife in a pretty house and gar- den close to the chateau, and settled upon them a pension, sufficient not only for the necessaries, but for the comforts of life. Margaret was be- side herself with joy. Maurice did not say much, but he thanked his benefactor with tears, which the mar- quis perfectly understood. " My good friend," cried he in a kind tone, " I am serving myself in assisting you." — " Impossible, my lord !" — " Not at all: you are an experienced farmer, and though you can no longer work, you are not the le^s capabfe E 2

28

HORRORS OF A HACKNEY-COACH.

of directing the operations of hus- bandry. I intend to turn farmer my- self; you shall tell me how I ought to act, and the money I shall gain by your advice will be much more than the little you receive from me." It was thus the marquis strove to lighten the load of obligation which he had conferred : happy would it be for mankind if such generosity of sentiment were more common.

A few days after the arrival of M. de Blainmore, he received a letter from Marseilles. Margaret, who happened to be at the castle at the moment of its arrival, delivered it to him; but she turned pale as death when she heard him say to the mar- chioness, " It is from our friend Vol- mar." — " Ah!" thought Margaret, as she quitted the room, " now all will put." She listened in terror at the

keyhole, but, to her great delight, the letter did not contain a syllable of what she dreaded. It was merely to congratulate the De Blainmores on their return, and to inform them that the viscount was the father of a little girl.

Margaret was now satisfied that the vicomte would keep her secret : she had, shortly after the accident happened, turned away the servant- girl who had witnessed it; and being now settled near the chateau, she broke off all connection with her former neighbours in the village. Thus every thing seemed to preclude the possibility of a discovery, and Margaret, now easy and happy in her circumstances, dismissed the dread of it from her mind.

(To be continued.)

THE HORRORS OF A HACKNEY-COACH. TO THE EDITOR.

Sir,

I am the husband of one of the best women in the world ; she is a perfect dab at pickling and pre- serving (Heaven preserve her for it) ; she is an excellent housewife, and manages all my matters most admi- rably; is genteel but not extrava- gant, sensible but not affected; was famous for drawings of beautiful children till she had two of her own ; played charmingly on the piano-forte to my singing till the arrival of the aforesaid children, who now lay her under contribution for all her stock of old jigs, waltzes, &c. that they may dance to them.

All these, and many more, good qualities belong to her; but, alas! sir, there is one drawback: she is

very nervous in a hackney-coach ; and as she is not strong enough to take long walks, I am often obliged to employ one of those very civil gentlemen, vulgarly called Jarveys; and I can assure you, that the varie- ty of her fears are such during a ride of a couple of miles, that, how- ever fearless I may be when I get in- to the coach, I am almost as nervous as herself at the end of the journey, and quite as glad to get out.

Sometimes she thinks the driver is too young, and then she says, " My love, that boy can never understand driving, we shall certainly be over- tnrnedr If he chances to be very old, then she is afraid that he can neither see, nor hear, nor have strength enough to avoid danger, and

HOlinoitS OV A HACKNEY-COACH.

29

then she assures me that we shall certainly be overturned. If the man is a smart natty fellow, and the horses good (and you do now and then meet with such, though it is a rare matter), and shews off a little in driving, turning the corners to an inch, and twisting and twirling most dexterously in and out of the almost inextricable intricacies of the city high-road navigation, if I may so call it, she colours up, and really works hard in pulling at, and holding by, the straps inside of the vehicle ; and is either most dismally silent, or gives occasionally a most interesting " Lord have mercy upon us ! we shall certainly be overturned ,•" but if her lips are silent, her eyes at such a mo- ment look unutterable things. If he is a slow dull Jehu, and has to drive about mid-day down Fish-street-Hill, over London-bridge, and along that delicious avenue, the narrow part of the Borough, as it is called; then, al- though the driver seems careful and deliberate enough, yet she is pro- phesying every five minutes, that we shall certainly be overturned by a brewer's dray, overwhelmed by a waggon-load of hops, or have a wheel taken off by one of those nasty Greenwich coachmen, who always drive to the eighth of a hair. Cer- tainly some of these matters are enough to shake the nerves of any man, and I do think that if Phaeton himself could contrive to take this drive in a shaky old rattler (an- glice, hackney-coach), he would be almost as much alarmed as when he overturned the chariot of the Sun, and set the world on iire. One odd fancy of my good lady's is, that it would be a very awkward thing if Waterloo, or any of the other bridges, should give way just as she was pass-

ing over it, and she is consequently additionally uneasy till we are fairly across them.

In the evening, when we happen to ride, if every thing goes on qui- etly, and there is no stoppage in the streets, then she is sure to fancy the coachman is drunk, and cannot per- suade herself but that he is reeling on his box at every jerk of the coach : certainly this is far from an impossi- ble occurrence, but then I tell her, by way of consolation, that if the man is drunk, the horses are gene- rally very sober, and know what they are about too well to get into any danger. If it happens that we are returning at night from any short distance in the country, then, as there can be no possible danger of running against any thing but a turn- pike gate, she amuses herself with fears of robbers. " Only think, my dear, suppose the fellow should be in league with highwaymen? Lord! we shall be robbed and have our throats cut!" I believe she has read of some such thing in an old New- gate Calendar: to be sure, this is only an out-of-town fear, and when we reach the gas-lights, it gives place to one of her London fears. The cabriolets have been out so short a time, that we have not yet tried them; but I do not expect she will get into one, for she has decided (and I think properly), that no lady can ride in them, because of having to sit in complete contact with the driver.

These, and many other matters, serve to alarm my wife almost to dis- traction inside of a hack ; but there is another desperate thing which an- noys her excessively, and that is, if I should happen to have a dispute about the fare with Jarvis when we

30

DISCOVERY OF REMARKABLE ANIMAL REMAIN'S.

get out : she cannot bear it, and I have often given them the overcharg- ed sixpence or shilling, rather than have a row with them in her compa- ny. The other day, when I knew a fellow had cheated me of a shilling, I just ventured to hint to him, that I knew where the Hackney-Coach Of- fice in Essex-street was, and might perhaps trouble him to walk before the commissioners; upon which he very coolly d d Essex-street, tak- ing especial care not to d n the

commissioners; and I, fearful of a volley of the same sort of thing, pocketed the affront, and walked off.

I do not know any great good that my complaining to you will produce; but it always makes one's heart light- er to vent one's grief; and, therefore, hoping for your commiseration and that of your readers, I remain, sir, yours, &c.

Rkuben Ridkadout.

DISCOVERY OF REMARKABLE ANIMAL REMAINS IN THE KINGDOM OF WIRTEMBERG.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sir,

Your scientific readers will probably be gratified by the commu- nication of a few particulars relative to the discovery made a few weeks since of some animal remains of ex- traordinary dimensions. These re- mains were dug up on the Kahlen- stein, near this city, and seem to have belonged for the most part to a sin- gle individual of the extinct species, to which modern naturalists have agreed to give the name of Mam- moth. When found, they were not connected together, but lay scattered about. The first thing that was brought to light was a decayed tusk, 13 feet 7 inches long, the hollow part of which, towards the root, v/as wanting. Several vertebrae of the back and ribs, a large piece of the pelvis, a tooth, one of the molares, and some fragments of the hinder part of the head, were next dug up. During the last week there have been found the upper bone of one of

the fore-legs, which, at the thick end, is a foot in diameter, and a piece of a tusk, 7 j feet long, and one foot in diameter, the two ends of which are wanting.

All these bones were imbedded in clay mixed with river sand, 17 or 18 feet below the surface of the hill, and 82 feet above the level of the river Neckar; and they surpass in magni- tude all the specimens of fossil bones found in Wirtembcrg, and preserv- ed in the cabinet of natural history of this city.

It is presumed, that the spot where these relics of the antediluvian world were disinterred, contains other re- mains not yet discovered. Should the conjecture be verified, and this communication prove acceptable, you shall be furnished with such far- ther particulars as can be collected

by

A Naturalist

Stittgaup, April 20.

REMARKS ON THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE OF

INDIA.

Extracted from a Letter from an Officer.

I AM going to treat you with a few paragraphs of travellers' wonders, and

I give you the honour of a Gael and a soldier, that the marvels I shall relate are not more strange than true.

This is the season when Hymen kindles his torch among your pine- clad hills; and how numerous the provident arrangements that must precede the advance to his altar ! what a load of cares will ensue ! A house and furniture and clothing and food — what awful considerations for a young couple beginning the world, without any fund beyond the earn- ings of their youthful years! Had they the genial heats of India to be- friend them, they might, as thou- sands do here, shelter themselves several months under two bamboos cut from the hedge and covered by leaves, while they are working to get enough to pay for a more permanent residence. A few rupees will erect a habitation and supply moveables, with as much comfort as that sum multiplied by the number twelve could procure in Great Britain ; and should the family increase, and be- come too large for the dimensions of the cottage, individuals can sleep in the open air without sustaining any inconvenience or injury. I have seen in the streets of Calcutta hundreds of the natives enjoying sweet repose at the doors of their parents or em- ployers.

This, by the way, lets you know that I am an early riser, and I find real pleasure, not unmixed with im- provement, in the habit of leaving my pillow before " the busy hum of men" distracts the attention. Bv

employing morning hours to some ad- vantage, I may propitiate Hygeia by soft slumbers at noon.

An Indian will travel with the ce- lerity of your best roadsters beneath the meridian sun, though the heat is perhaps at 120 degrees by Fah- renheit's thermometer; and while thus scouring along the ground, he holds a single arum-leaf as a shelter for his pericranium: but he is not encumbered by a cloth coat and mi- litary accoutrements, which leads me to another chapter of Hindoo and Mahomedan economy.

The Hindoo sircar and the Mos- lem trader, when they go out on bu- siness, put on a turban, as indicative of respectability, and to afford a se- cure place for cash or jewels with which they carry on their traffic ; but the turban, being used only in pub- lic, will last several years, and the simplicity, the unchanging form and the singleness of their vestments re- duce the cost to a trifling amount. Nor is their apparel of necessity thrown aside by the caprice of fa- shion, or despised because it has been often seen, as you know to be- the case among communities far from opulent, within the boundaries of the most enlightened people upon earth. But I am growing cynical, and shall quit the subject, after telling you that a shoemaker's bill, so formidable in a large family of English, Irish, or Scottish domicile, will never impair 1 the finances of an Asiatic pater-fa- milias. In short, if the sable race of Bengal had the religion and po- litical constitution of Great Britain, they would find a terrestrial paradise

32

FRENCH FEMALE FARLIAMENT.

in their lot. It is in these inestima- ble blessings that you receive abund- ant compensation for the rigours of a variable atmospl<ere ; and I am sure

that I never prized them so much a> since I have seen other countries.

W. G.

FRENCH FEMALE PARLIAMENT.

CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES.

Paius, June 10.

Madame Belle-Taille rose to call the attention of the Chamber to the subject of fashions. She thought it highly necessary that some striking alteration should take place in even- ing dress: it was now a long time since either the materials or the form of grand costume had varied consi- derably; and it was a duty impera- tive upon that Chamber, to whom all Europe looked for fashions, not to let the present session go over without devising some that would uphold the high estimation in which French taste was universally held. She rose therefore to move for a re- vival of the naked drapery worn by the Roman ladies, a costume which was at once light, elegant, and appro- priate, particularly for the ball-room; and would be found so strikingly novel, that it could not fail to meet with the entire approbation of all amateurs of the science of dress.

Madame la Bavonne Tres-Go- th'tquc could not help observing, that hi the honourable member's zeal for French taste, she had forgot a little what was due to French modesty; and it struck her also, that the styl- ing a very old fashion a striking no- velty was what an Englishman would call a bit of a bull: however, she might perhaps be mistaken, and if so, the older a fashion was of course the more novel : therefore she beg- ged to propose the revival of one more ancient still ; she meant the fig-

leaf apron first introduced by Ma~ dame Eve.

Madame Belle- Taille in reply de- scanted with great bitterness on the illiberality of spirit evinced in the observations of the last speaker, whose ideas must be very confined indeed, if she could consider it a de- rogation from French modesty to fol- low the example of some of the most illustrious Roman dames. She hoped to find a more liberal spirit in the majority of the members; since it was evident, from the present state of full dress, that the naked drapery would reveal very little more of the form than was at this moment dis- played. As a confirmation of her assertion, she begged the noble mem- bers would look at the gowns which were cut half way up the leg, and halfway down the bust, with a sleeve not larger than a shoulder-strap. No- body could deny that such was the present costume ; and could any la- dy, who had liberality of sentiment enough to adopt it, object to a dress so much more graceful and becoming, as the Roman costume, particularly too when it might be rendered ex- tremely decent, by adopting a tight vest and pantaloons of flesh-coloured silk underneath?

Madame la Marquise de Parve- nue seconded the motion, with the amendment.

Madame Court-Epalsse could not agree to the motion, however it might be modified. It might be a very suitable costume for those ladies

VltF.NOII VEMAl.K PARLIAMENT.

33

whose tall slender figures would bear such an outrageous display ; but pray what was to become of the dumpy order? She, for her part, thought that legislators should always have an eye to the interests of the people at large; and therefore she must vote against the introduction of a fashion which she was sure could never be generally becoming.

Madame la Comtesse Trts-Vio- lente admired the patriotism of the last speaker, though she could not say much in praise of her consisten- cy; for she had been the warmest supporter of a fashion quite as un- becoming to the dumpy order as the naked drapery could possibly be. " I allude," continued the honour- able speaker, " to the robes flounced up to the knees, which were first brought into fashion by Madame Lotigues- Jambes, and which were universally adopted by the dumpy order, and by no part of it more ea- gerly than by the honourable mem- ber."

The fair orator was here inter- rupted by Madame Courte-Epaisse, who rose in her place, and began with great indignation to repel the charge of her belonging to the dum- py order. As it is contrary to the rules of the Chamber for any mem- ber to speak except in the tribune, this circumstance created a good deal of confusion, for it was some time before Madame la Comtesse would descend ; at last perceiving that there was no chance of her being heard, she quitted the tribune, which was im- mediately taken by Madame Courte- Epaisse; but she was so much ex- hausted, partly by passion, and part- ly by mounting in a great hurry, that she was nearly inarticulate: all we

Vol. II. No. VII

could catch were a few disjointed sen- tences : " Middle size — best height — I of the dumpy order! — impudent falsity '.—insolent Maypole !" Cries of indignation from the whole of the leftside, and vain calls from Madame la Presidente to order. The tumult at last became so serious, that the President, finding her voice could no longer be heard, put on her bonnet. This act of authority recalled the members to reason, and order beinjr re-established, Madame Sens-Com- mun* mounted the tribune, and after some handsome compliments to the classical taste of the honourable mem- ber who proposed to introduce the naked drapery, lamented that she was obliged to oppose the motion upon grounds which she was sure that lady herself would allow to be just. She believed that that worthy individual, and indeed the whole of the honourable Chamber, would con- cur with her in opinion, that the grand object of dress was to secure ad- miration— (cries from different parts of the Chamber, "Very truer) — but, unfortunately, the methods lately pursued, and which would be car- ried still farther if the present mo- tion passed, were the last in the world to procure so desirable an end. Men were such strange, prying, in- quisitive animals, that they always wanted to have something to find out; and even the perfection of love- liness, freely exposed to their view, never excited more than a momen- tary admiration, which was always sure to be succeeded by indifference, and too often by disgust. " We need, "continued the honourable mem- ber, " no other proof of this truth, than the nonchalance with which the * This lady is of die right centre. F

;U

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM THE CAPTAIN OF A CONVICT-SHI I'.

loveliest bosoms and arms in the world are daily regarded by those to whom we display them. Do they not gaze on this living snow, moulded in the proportions of the Grecian Venus, with as much apathy as they would look on a box of pearl-pow- der? And why? Because it leaves no room for the exercise of their ima- gination. The ungrateful wretches, instead of being obliged by the pains we take, and the risk we run of catching our deaths, to treat them with a sight of our charms, would find more pleasure in gazing on our double handkerchiefs and long sleeves, and drawing, according to their own fancy, the pictures of what was concealed by them. Not that I mean to recommend such dowdy co- verings in full dress ; no, I will rea- dily admit that they are entirely in- compatible with grand costume: but surely a short sleeve of moderate length, and a tucker or tippet that would partially conceal the bosom, might be admitted with the utmost propriety, and would certainly do more towards exciting admiration, thaji bare necks and arms, or even the naked drapery itself."

The honourable member then de- scended the tribune amidst mingled cheers and murmurs of disapproba- tion; and the motion of Madame Belle-Taille was put to the show of hands, and negatived by a majority of ten, most of whom, to the sur- prise of all Faris, are of the extreme left*.

The sitting closed at half-past four o'clock.

* Note by the Reporter of the Debates. — As tins defection of so many members of the cote gauche upon such an import- ant occasion has excited much specula- tion, and as it lias even been whispered that those members are likely to secede entirely from their party, we think it our duty to contradict this report, which we have every reason to believe is false ; it having been imparted to us confidential- ly, that these honourable members were influenced merely by considerations of a private nature, as they are all corpulent, some under-sized, and one or two a little bandy. We pledge ourselves for the truth of these facts, which we consider it necessary to state, in order to exonerate the fair liberals from a suspicion so inju- rious to their political celebrity.

EXTEACT OF A LETTER FROM THE CAPTAIN OF A

CONVICT-SHIP.

The F.LizA,.on her way to New .South Wales, commenced Aug. 23, 1822.

Bear H .

I commence this letter in the middle of the N. E-trade-wind, hop- ing to have an opportunity before crossing the line to forward it to you. We sailed, as you know, on the 2d of August from the Downs, and when off Portsmouth, as some of my pas- sengers cannot exist without milk, or stir-about, I was induced to send Mr.

F. on shore by a pilot-boat, to pur- chase a cow, which business he ac- complished, and got on board again with his bargain without the least loss of time.

On Sunday morning a little spirt of fair wind caused us to be very bu- sy in the forenoon, crowding all the canvas possible, and consequently in- terrupted the usual routine of the day. However, we are rather too staunch Christians to suffer trifles to

THE PROGRESS OF A FASHION.

OO

sot aside our devotions : as therefore public service could not be perform- ed in the morning, it was held in the afternoon. Now it so happens that our surgeon, being a Scotchman and a Presbyterian, is unacquainted with the church service, and of course unqualified to officiate as minister, which it is otherwise his duty to do. Picture to yourself then your humble servant enveloped in a white dressing- gown, borrowed for the occasion, placed behind the poop-ladder, co- vered with the union jack, for a pul- pit, and with becoming gravity going through the service of the day. I must confess as I proceeded I felt powerfully influenced for the promo- tion of this sort of worship, by the very cordial manner in which many of the convicts appeared to offer up their prayers to the Father of Mer- cies, and which gave me sufficient confidence to proceed through the whole service with an audible voice, assisted by Mr. F. as my clerk, to whom I must give the greatest praise for his assiduous attention to that part of his duty, which requires the

concluding of each prayer with an Amen.

During the ensuing week we thought it prudent, as there was little chance of escape, surrounded as we were by a boundless ocean, to knock off the irons of some of the prisoners, particularly those who had evinced a good and cleanly disposition, to the number of about thirty. The follow- ing morning I was presented by one of the men thus released with the fol- lowing lines on double-iron emanci- pation:

Hail ! happy, happy morn, from fetters free, Old England's glorious boast, sweet liberty ! Oh ! may I strive, and not in vain, to please Those friends who've given my legs their

wonted ease ! Whilst memory remains, I'll ne'er disown, Or e'er forget this humane favour shewn ; And may the earth from its lix'd centre

move, Ere 1 ungrateful for th' indulgence prove ! Samuel Houatio Douglass Holloway.

A frigate is now in sight bearing down to us, and I am sorry to be obliged to conclude my letter just now. We are in lat. 11° 30' north ; long. 23° 5' west, on the 29th of August.

THE PROGRESS OF A FASHION.

Denique per multas aditum sibi sa^pe figuras Reperit Ovid. Met.

At length in various shapes it finds access.

lib.

It is not unworthy of remark, that whilst all ranks of people are on the alert to catch and to adopt the new- est modes, a fashion is longer mak- ing its way from the court to the eastern extremity of this huge me- tropolis, than it is in traversing the six thousand miles of sea which fluc- tuate between us and the continent of India ; and by the time that it reaches Wapping or Rotherhithe, it is so metamorphosed and misapplied,

that it retains as little of its pristine shape, as a snow-ball would after being rolled over the same ground. It is amusing enough to observe its successive wearers, at the same time that they pride themselves upon be- ing in the height of the fashion, put- ting on, and putting up with, the most preposterous devices with a most unsuspecting complacency. The fact is, that every neighbourhood has its idol, its standard of fashion-, F 2

36

THE PK0UKESS OF A FASHION.

which is regarded with as much de- ference, as the real leaders are by the beau monde: so that instead of passing directly from one end of the town to the other — as it might in a few days if those who would be fa- shionable were to read the Reposi- tory— it has to encounter a multi- tude of impediments, and to run through an infinity of circles. The last in each superior circle are not slow in transmitting it to the first in the next inferior; but during the time consumed in debating upon it, and in the admiration and attainment of it, its progress is in danger of be- ing totally arrested.

When first long waists were re- vived, with tight zones and buckles, I beheld, while walking in Pali-Mall, an elegant little figure of a countess alight from her chariot, with an air graceful beyond description. Her figure being slight and symmetrical, shewed to no little advantage in a mode which, from its apparent frank- ness, must be extremely inimical to projecting backs and aspiring shoul- ders ; and the inimitable ease of her movements completely stifled every rising apprehension as to that long- train of maladies said to be incidental to tight lacing. After gazing as long- as I could — that is, as long as her ladyship was in sight — I walked on- ward, scarcely deigning to glance at the short waists, high shoulders, and vast circumferences, which had their day at the West end, I know not how many summers ago, and which seem- ed to require a pavement of double the width necessary for the accommo- dation of the present compact gene- ration. From that time forth I open- ly avowed a decided aversion from short waists, to the no small displea- sure of my female acquaintance, who

fancied, that in too curious specula- tions upon the abstract principles of beauty, I had got entangled in some wild theory, totally repugnant to the established order of things. In truth, I was set down as a wilful heretic in matters of ton, and an irreclaimable apostate from the true taste. For the sake of peace, it became expe- dient to yield the point, and to en- dure with as little wincing as possi- ble what appeared to me a perfect monstrosity. In the course of three months I was honoured with a card for a rout at my friend Dick Ite- quete's, who holds a snug place — no sinecure I protest — under govern- ment. The grand attraction of the evening was to be a young lady of unquestionable fashion, the grand- daughter of a privy-counsellor. Her entre was looked for with breathless expectation; manners, dress, con- versation, and every thing else were to be studied from her, who catches them of her mamma, who has them from her mamma, who goes to court. What was the surprise of the whole party, what was my own exultation, when, on her appearance, it was dis- covered that her bust was — at least three inches lower than any other in the room; and that in lieu of the dandyzette poke, she actually held up her head, and suffered her shoul- ders to be where, and as, they should be; while the gentle curve of the back where her sash was tied, gave a meaning, a play, and an interest to her whole figure ! On calling a day or two after, I found that Dick's " womankind'' had received some new lights upon the subject: they now clearly perceived the weight of my objections against wearing the waist upon the shoulders; indeed, they were prepared to go much great-

THE PROGRESS OF A FASHION.

37

er lengths in the other extreme than I had ever recommended, and were too anxious for arrivals from the | dress-maker's to listen with any show of patience to my admonitions re- specting moderation in all things, " always having an eye to the due proportions of the human form," as indicated in the most celebrated sta- tues of antiquity.

From that time the revolution of waists began to gain ground through- out the environs of Charing-Cross. At first, to be sure, it was confined to a select few, but the novelty of then* example, and the straight-for- wardness of their carriage, soon at- tracted the attention of looser cha- racters, who seemed willing to atone for their former laxity and short- comings by the strictness of their lacings and the elongation of their corsets. The commercial aristocracy in the squares north of Holborn held out with considerable pertina- city, but being overpowered by au- thorities, and alarmed at the rapid strides made by the retainers of the nobility, they yielded almost simul- taneously, and tightened and length- ened with great expedition. The progress through the Strand was ra- pid and uninterrupted. At Covent- Garden little remained to be effect- ed, for the market-women, to do them justice, were all along in the mode, their waists having remained nearly stationary from the days of Hogarth to our own. But at Tern- pie-Bar the career had well nigh terminated, owing to a serious differ- ence between the meagre aspect of this fashion, and the strong predi- lection of the citizens for rotundity and every other token of good liv- ing; and when at last " an equitable adjustment" seemed to be agreed up-

on, the press of pads and fulnesses — not all artificial — towards the west, for a time precluded even the slim- mest of the new regime from gliding easily into the city. However, the fashion did succeed in gaining an en- trance, though it passed down Fleet- street in a very spiritless manner, being only welcomed by such as con- sidered it likely to afford them an op- portunity of displaying a good figure. Its reception at New Bridge-street was exceedingly favourable. The black sweeper at the corner girt his tattered jacket as tight as he could, and in less than a month the fashion was in a fair way for the Surrey- road. At St. Paul's it made a pause, as if undetermined which side of the cathedral to take, but it presently made a dash into Cheapside, and after meeting with various success, found its way to Aldgate about a year and a half after I had seen the be- fore-mentioned countess.

It was at this period that, being invited to meet some India acquaint- ances at a common-councilman's in that neighbourhood, I was introduc- ed to Dorothy his wife and Clarissa his daughter, both of whom exhi- bited an unparalleled longitude of waist, encompassed with zones of red morocco, each apparently of the same dimensions, though the matron was endowed by nature with nearly twice the bulk of her daughter. I felt ra- ther piqued at the stiffness of their deportment on receiving me, but a moment's observation was sufficient to explain the real cause of their seeming indifference. The worthy hostess was so terribly hampered by her new fashion, as to labour like a ship in a storm, her every turn being accompanied with the creaking of stays and the straining of cordage.

Til!' BUCCANEERS.

If her sufferings in performing the honours had not been too visible, the variety of pretty affectations she re- sorted to, in the vain attempt to ap- pear at ease, would have been highly diverting ; but as it was, they were enough to make " a gap in the feast" of any feeling man: for who could find pleasure in the most costly fare, if assisted to it at the manifest pain of the mistress of the banquet 1 As a good dinner is at Aldgate too weighty an affair to be interrupted by frivolous conversation, it was long before any one could find leisure to talk; but in an interval between the courses, a lady who had just return- ed from Calcutta, took occasion to express her surprise, with more can- dour than discretion, that the ladies of the house should strap themselves up in that uncomfortable manner, now that it was out of date all over the world. '; Out of date 1" ex- claimed mother and daughter with one voice. " Why," continued Miss Clarissa, " it was sported for the first time only last Sunday at church by Miss Model, our deputy's ward." — " I know nothing of Miss Model," resumed the lady, " but before I

quitted the presidency, that sort of thing had arrived from England, and being adopted by the highest female authority among us, had run for a whole month at the time of my de- parture. But really, my dear, your own sense must have told you, that those odious girdles of red morocco were never received any where as full dress." — " No, it didn't," said our host; " but /told them enough upon that score. Oh! the frightful tilings! they make the women look for all the world as if they had been broken in halves, and were just strap- ped up to save them from falling to pieces." The mortification of the ladies who had so unsparingly tor- tured themselves, the elder in parti- cular, into the fancied calibre, on finding so much pains and labour thrown away, was truly pitiable. A sigh escaped the mother in concert with a loud crack, which threatened to release her at once from the pe- nance of her own infliction ; and for my part I was afraid to turn the con- versation by a joke, lest, in the laugh- ter which ought to have ensued, the poor ladies had been both undone.

0 <t>.

THE BUCCANEERS.

No productions of the press have so variously and essentially benefited the fair as periodical publications. They have disseminated useful know- ledge and exhaustless amusement to thousands, who, without the sti- mulus and assistance they afford, would never, perhaps, escape beyond the limits of ignorance and frivolity. If knowledge operates as a guide to the personal sensations; if mistakes and errors in conduct can be pre- vented or corrected by furnishing

clear lights to the understanding, it is certainly a most important vehicle of information, which presents his- torical and physiological facts, puri- fied from all grossness, and abridged from tiresome prolixity, imbuing the mind with delightful and salutary ex- citations of feeling, and laudable mo- tives of action, even in early youth, to an amount far exceeding what all the observations and incidents of a whole life could amass for persons v, ho have neglected the rapid acces-

TUP. BUCCANEERS.

39

sion of ideas that may be acquired by reading. A few brilliant extracts from standard books, some passages in history or biography, or a de- scription of the rich and splendid gifts of nature to other countries, may create a relish for more circum- stantial intelligence, and open to the fair rich sources of entertainment, which age and infirmity cannot rob of their powers to delight; and com- paring with their own, the modes of existence in which multitudes have proceeded from the cradle to the grave, they may adopt the practices they approve, commiserate the dis- tresses from which they have been exempted, and raise their hearts in gi'atitude to Providence for their hap- pier destiny.

When ladies shudder with horror and repugnance at recitals of the cruelties perpetrated by Barbary cor- sairs, they should be also aware, that only two centuries have elapsed, since hordes of adventurers from civilized Europe were marine robbers, stained with crimes never surpassed by bar- barian monsters of atrocity.

The splendid successes of the Spa- niards in the New AVorld awakened the cupidity of desperadoes from Eu- rope. They fitted out armed ships, to lie in wait for the galleons wafting treasures from Peru and Mexico to the parent country; and to secure supplies of food and water for their crews, they exterminated a Spanish garrison at Hispaniola, where they made a formidable settlement, and employed in hunting the wild cat- tle every interval of relaxation from their maritime expeditions. They soon thought upon the expediency of dividing their force into portions, go- ing in rotation to scour the ocean, and attending to cultivate the fertile

soil, or to pursue the numerous herds that retreated before them in the woods. Le Grand, a Norman pi- rate, induced many daring men to join from the new-formed West In- dia colonies, and continued for twen- ty years to infest the American seas. The legends of romance can hardly parallel their valorous exploits, or the profusion and extravagance which soon dissipated the spoil obtained by the most perilous exposure of their lives. Pierre Franc, a native of Dun- kirk, and Bartholomew, a Portu- guese, performed prodigies of per- sonal prowess. Montbar, a gentle- man of good family from Languedoc, while yet a child, panted to emulate those wondrous achievements; but the high-souled, high-born champion soon sunk into the ferocious pirate, through the influence of debauched and ruthless associates. Francis l'Olonois succeeded to Montbar in distinction; and Henry Morgan, ge- nerally designated Sir Henry Mor- gan, became more famous than ei- ther. When a boy, he eloped from his father, and went to Barbadoes. His master treated him ill, and in a few months sold him into bondage. During his servitude, he heard much of the gallantry, the wealth, and won- derful exploits of the Buccaneers; and resolved to join them whenever he could regain his liberty. He soon eclipsed all his predecessors in the extent, difficulty, and prosperity of his undertakings against the Spanish settlements in South America. A predatory warfare at sea could not satisfy his ambition. He attacked fortresses, and was seldom repulsed. In the capture of a garrison on the coast of Panama, a lady of high rank and dazzling beauty became his prize. She had lately arrived from Spain

40

THE 1UJCCANF.F.US.

with her father, and was destined for the arms of an old grandee. Mor- gan was young, superlatively hand- some, and a conqueror enriched by immense booty: he offered her his heart and hand ; but the pure mind of the lofty Iberian sickened with repugnance to an alliance with spoli- ation and every vicious passion. She had inspired Morgan with sentiments that seemed to refine and dignify his nature. He treated his captive with every mark of respect, avowing, with ardent professions of esteem and love, that in her he revered a soul which no adverse fortune could degrade, and that she should be his guardian angel, the implicitly obeyed dictatress of all his future conduct. He as- signed to her a separate house, a re- tinue of servants, with every homage he could pay to her rank and tran- scendent merit : but he persisted in a determination to engage her affec- tions ; or if she still refused to par- ticipate in his fate, to carry her away as his most precious and irreclaima- ble right. He prolonged his stay at Panama until the men grew impa- tient of inaction. Still, he could not so far. surmount the restraints impos- ed by genial love, as to urge his suit with alarming importunity. He pre- vailed on his lawless bands to under- take a small expedition, giving over to them his share of the plunder. He remained with the lady, endeavour- ing by artful encroachments to relax her scruples of delicacy. His people returned victorious. They spent a week in riot, and again were clamor- ous for a return to their own island. Worked almost to phrenzy by con- flicting passions, Morgan attempted liberties that roused all the heroine in the bosom of his intended victim. " Morgan!" said she, in a tone and

manner that checked his desperation, " your behaviour since I fell into your hands does honour to manhood and to your country. Repress your vehemence, and compel me not to change my opinion." He withdrew abashed and overawed at the majes- ty of virtue ; but soon returned, furi- ously bent upon overcoming his own better feelings. The lady was pre- pared for the worst emergency.

" Infamous man !" said she, " this dagger shall be my protector. I will not send thee to thy last account. I am ready to die in defence of my ho- nour, and the most dreadful of all tremendous chastisements must fall from the hand of the Almighty on thee, if thou leavest me no alternative between suicide and a calamity more horrible than the most agonizing death."

Morgan, enraged by disappoint- ment, ordered the lady into confine- ment, under pretence that he had detected her in a correspondence With his enemies. All his persecu- tions could not shake the fortitude of this Spanish Lucretia, and Divine Providence interposed for her relief. A few of Morgan's men proposed to him to get all the treasure on board of his own ship, and to set sail for Jamaica, leaving the rest of the Buc- caneers to shift for themselves. While occupied by this perfidious scheme, Morgan became less vigilant in watch- ing his fair prisoner. She escaped to the woods, and though the Bucca- neers kindled a conflagration at Pa- nama, she rejoined her father in safety.

Vanhorn, a Dutchman, was elect- ed leader of the Buccaneers whom Morgan had deserted. He was a person of signal intrepidity. In the heat of the engagements he ranged

THE ECCENTRIC MONITOR.

41

over his ship, putting to death every man who betrayed any signs of fear. This savage discipline deterred the faint-hearted from entering his ser- vice, but made him the idol of the brave, with whom he shared his spoils or convivial merriment in a li- beral frankness. He was joined by Grammont, Lawrence de Graff, Jonque, and Godfrey, whose cou- rage and conduct are celebrated in predatory annals. They pillaged Ve- ra Cruz, and projected an invasion of Peru ; but instead of acting in con- cert, they separated, ravaged many rich towns, and then giving them- selves up to debauchery, allowed the Spaniards time to collect against them a force they could not resist. Grammont besieged Cam peachy. The citadel, after holding out with resolute pertinacity, was abandoned by its defenders, except one gun, which continued to annoy the pirates. Grammont knew how to appreciate such undaunted fidelity. The piece

was served by an Englishman, who resolved to die at his post. Gram- mont, with a flag of truce in his hand, expostulated with the valorous foe, represented the madness of throwing away his life, and assured him of liberty and permission to car- ry off his effects, to which he added valuable gifts. The affair happened to engage the attention of Wil- liam III. of England. He had the wisdom and humanity to convert the misapplied talents of the Buccaneers to beneficial purposes, He gave em- ployment to the most distinguished commanders in the colonies. Other nations followed his example, and the scourges of land and sea became peaceful subjects. In many instan- ces, the abused capacities of unfor- tunate high-spirited merit might be rendered valuable to the community, by similar encouragement to reclaim their conduct,

E.G.

THE ECCENTRIC MONITOR.

The celebrated French comedian Preville, who died in 1799, made his first appearance on the Paris boards in 1753, as Crispin in UHeritier universe!, and St. Germain in La Famille extravagante. He obtain- ed the most unqualified applause ; but he had previously performed in many provincial towns, and especially at Rouen, where he had received such lessons as might be useful to many an actor.

Preville was the favourite of the public at Rouen: he never appeared upon the stage but he was greeted with the loudest applause, and all who had any pretensions to taste

Vol. II. No. VII.

coincided in the general commenda- tions. Amidst all these testimonies of approbation, he frequently observ- ed among the spectators an elderly man, in black, who seemed desirous of attracting his notice. He looked at Preville with a smile of pity, shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, raised his right hand, and seemed to threaten with his fore-finger; after which, without uttering a word, he mingled with the other spectators.

Preville at first laughed at this sin- gular conduct of the man in black, but as the latter always repeated his gestures, the actor's curiosity was ex- cited to learn the motive of his con- G

42

CAMPA RUN.

duct. He therefore took an oppor- tunity of addressing the stranger, and inquired what he meant by his extraordinary motions. " Sir," repli- ed he, " you possess all the talents requisite for becoming an eminent ac- tor; but without great care you will not rise above a common buffoon." He then entered into an analysis of the parts which Preville had been accustomed to perform: he pointed out to him where and how his acting had deviated from the truth of the character represented, and where he had violated decorum by the intro- duction of clap-traps, by which he had indeed won the obstreperous plaudits of the multitude, but drawn

upon himself the just censures of persons of sound judgment and re- fined taste.

Preville was modest and sensible enough to profit by the criticisms of this Aristarchus. The latter, an old procurateur, had from his youth che- rished a decided predilection for the stage, and still seized every opportu- nity of riding his favourite hobby. From this time Preville cultivated the friendship of his candid monitor, and consulted him on all occasions. He corrected the defects which his friend pointed out, and which, had they once become second nature, would have degenerated into gross faults.

GAELIC RELICS. No. V.

CAMPA RUN, The Field of secret Combat ; in which epithet the name of Cameron originated.

The poems of Ossian have been translated into several languages of the Continent, and received with fer- vent admiration. The highly co- loured contrast presented to the ima- gination between the warrior, the hunter, the heroine, and huntress, and the commonplace qualities of modern refinement; the splendid generosity of their chivalrous deeds; the East- ern grandeur of style in which those deeds are related; the similes and figures of speech, few, but striking; and the variety of lights in which the same comparison illustrates a sub- ject, gratifies at once the feelings, the taste, and the love of simplicity and novelty inherent in every well- constituted mind.

The clan Cameron, through a long series of ages, have been eminently conspicuous for valour in the field, and for rigid honour in all their in-

tercourses. Sir Ewen Cameron, the unconquerable opponent of Crom- well's tyranny over the Highlands,and Colonel Cameron, who " in the fight of steel, died like the offspring of Lochiel" at Waterloo, continued " the unbroken line of fame" to our day. The castle of Innerlochy, the ancient abode of the chieftains of Lochiel, was a residence of the kings of Scotia when Gaelic was the lan- guage spoken at court ; and though that spacious fabric has not been ha- bitable these five hundred years, the remains were in sufficient preserva- tion to afford a model for the castles of Inverary and Taymouth. Colo- nel Stewart's Sketches of the High- land Character have given many au- thentic particulars concerning the fa- milies of Cameron and Macdougal,

who figure in this relic of olden time.

CAMPA RUN.

45

Songs of joy in the halls of Alba will send to future years for ever the fame of Campa Run na Ceartnach Don*. Her eye was the bright glance of the mountain falcon; her cheeks, j the blushing berry of the woods; her lips, the clustering rowan of the j rocks; her smile, the dew of morn- ; ing on buds of hazel or opening bios- ! soms ; her speech, an early sunbeam on a green-headed hill. Her steps overtook the deer with his feet of wind, and, bending her crooked yew, she laid low his branchy horns. She trained her white hands to the sword and spear ; and, chieftain of Lome ! feeble in gathered years ! thine was the strength of a mighty virgin heart, as a shield covering thy thin gray locks from the blustering voice and sidelong gusts of Appin. Innerlo- chy's chief met her oft at the chase of roes; and when the sea darkly tumbled over rocks, groaning to the blast, her light hand trembled over the harp, as falling snows wreathing upon a little tree, and the kindled soul of the chieftain of her love flies to meet the sound. But her pride is in the pointed steel ; for he that should lead her people lies bound among the surly sons of Lochlin.

" My sire moulders as a leafless oak," said the maid of lofty mind ; " but I grow with all my branches thick around me, to shelter him from the storm."

The lord of Innerlochy, chieftain of a race of renown, heard her words of wisdom, and his rising love swelled high at her fame. The chief of Appin, gloomy in years, seeks the prize of beauty, and she is promised to him that is dark to her soul; for in feeble thoughts age dwelt around the chief of Lome. The moon alone, pale changing daughter of the sky,

* The brown-haired heroine.

the moon alone beholds the Ceart- nach Don in her grief. Her red cheek is wet with tears; but, as a sunbeam struggling through a misty valley, her bosom escapes from the crowding steps of dismay. Her ma- ny-coloured fears and sinking cou- rage were no more than the bow of a shower. One moment it bends with all its tints over the heavens : it is gone ; the sun spreads abroad with brighter rays, and awakes the birds to their song.

u Go in haste," she said to Fair- gear, rider of the currents ; " go, wrap the son of Muime* in the dis- guise of a southern, and say to the chief of Appin, the plunderer of a bark distressed must come forth to combat with the lord of Glentin- nar."

Fairgear goes and returns. His light ship skims the billows for Alnu- maght of Erin, and the Ceartnach Don prepares to measure lances with him that dared to frown on her fa- ther. As a moonbeam wading through flaky snow was the face of the he- roine, covering her deep thoughts with smiles of mirth ; and the smile of loveliness on her lips shewed how her soul grew in danger. Guanag, that cheered the aged lord of Lome with pranks of childhood, observes the shirt of mail, plumed helmet, and studded three-cornered buckler, in j the bower of the virgin, and hies j over hill and glen to Innerlochy. ! Breathless with speed, his beckoning | hand quickens the approach of the j chief, landing on his own shores with his warrior vassals, after a conquest over the coast of tall pines and icy waters. The lord of Innerlochy at a distance knew the wavering steps of Guanag f. Behind a rock lash-

* Muime, nurse. f Guanag, volatile or crazy.

44

CAMPA RUH.

ed by tumbling surges, Guanag draws near, whirling in dance, as the foam- ing ocean tossed by contending tides.

" Campa Run na Ceartnach Don !" he sung, fast turning on his heels, though beaten sore with rapid travel, until the chief, by a mighty grasp, fixes him to the spot, and presses from him all that hung in broken ed- dies over his restless spirit.

The lord of Innerlochy knew the false heart of Appin. He and his hidden men at arms take the field before the joy of his dreams. She comes in all her awful beauty, and leans upon her beamy spear. The chief of Innerlochy glides among trees, to stand between her and the foe. She sees him not ; for the ter- rible rejoicing of a first fight wraps her soul. Appin comes forth on a steed prancing as the steed of the stranger; his arms glittering in the sun. His sounding horn calls from the nodding rushes a host to seize the southern challenger; but the chief of Innerlochy and his warriors spring as flames of fire from the dell of underwood. The rage of battle bursts on every side, and the spear of Appin has gleamed behind the chief of Innerlochy, when a shaft, that never failed from the hand of the Ceartnach Don, pierces his treacher- ous heart. He yells a thousand curses, and, fierce to the last, he dies as a wild boar of the desert.

The lord of Innerlochy, chief- tain of a race of renown, has saved the daughter of Lome, and as the star of his love, she sparkles in his towers. Their people are glad in the ever -open halls of Innerlochy and his heroine — every eye brightens in their presence, and strangers forget their own land at this board of mirth. As beautiful flowers of the wood,

their children grow around them; and their foes are scattered as leaves of autumn before a gale of the cliffs. But the herald of Scotland, on eagle wings, summons the chosen warriors of king Duncan to drive the heavy clubs of Lochlin from the south. The sons of the mountains lift the spear and bend the twanging bow for the flat dull vales ; and wild roes feed where heroes trod in their might.

" Who comes to Innerlochy in the folds of disguise ?" By the fire of va- lour in his full dark eye, her long- absent brother is known to the Ceart- nach Don. Her snowy arms are clasp- ed on his neck.

" My heart beats high," he said, " my heart beats high to behold the castle towers of our fathers."

" My young brother," replied the spouse of Innerlochy, " the awful voices of other times warn us to co- ver the flame of our souls with the skirts of wisdom. But lately freed from the bonds of Lochlin, a more deadly danger haunts thy return to Lome. The next heir of our house accuses lagging death that spares the gray-haired chief, sunk low in a dim- sighted mist of years. The powers of Innerlochy, and of thy far-de- scended race, spread the light of re- nown over the south. My hero will come back in the fame of his battles, and join his arms with the brother of his spouse."

" Can I calm my burning soul?" answered the youth. " As a stag worn out by many winters, shall I hide in a hollow to shun the storm? No, give me to meet the sons of Lochlin. Their black prows are man- ned for St. Columba, and the sons of peace shall fall beside their domes of prayer. Are there no aged sinews I of war, no boys of growing soul, to

CAMP A RUN.

43

follow the young chief of Lome in the fight of steel:1"

" Nor aged beam of valour, nor boys of growing soul, tread along our hills; they all followed my hero to the south," said the Ceartnach Don: " but daughters of Argathela, with souls strong in danger, shall save from the followers of Loda the Isle of Holy Vigils. Our hands are train- ed to the bow, our boast is in the spear. We shall scatter the rovers of icy waters as snow-flakes before a rustling gale."

The Ceartnach Don sends blazing brands by fleet - footed damsels through every hill and glen ; and the daughters of the chase attend her call from shaggy mountain and green narrow vale throughout all the lands. They ; steer many-oared berlins to follow the star of Innerlochy, a guid- ing light in the course of fame. The ascending joy of a first fight shines in every glance of the young chief of Lome, as he leads the dames and virgins of Innerlochy to their ships. The thick woods of Lochyside are lighted by the streaming blaze of their arms, and as meteors shooting over the blue main, or sea-fowl pur- suing the finny tribes, their bound- ing war-barks stretch swiftly to the Isle of Holy Vigils. The sons of rapine are on the beach.

" Draw your white arms from the bossy shield," said the young chief of Lome; " let not your weapons appear to the song of Lochlin. Let them be ensnared by your floating robes."

The sons of snow expect an easy prey of beauty. They plunder the halls of St. Columba to spread a feast of mirth, and moved by the soft voices of the lovely strangers, they spare the lives of the sons of peace.

The smooth blooming face of the boy-chief of Lome, in female vest- ments, awakens no thought of the child they held years in bondage; and the eye of the Ceartnach Don guides the youth while he seems to command the array. The banquet is spread. The gladdening shell cir- cles round. As flies of evening be- fore a summer shower, so flitted the hosts of Lochlin in wildness of mirth. The smiling strangers take their clubs as in sport. The dubs are reared in piles, to shelter the cheek of beauty from the breeze of night. Unseen, the chief of Lome kindles the piles. They flame. The pole- axes and clubs are consumed. The Ceartnach Don gives a voice to her silver horn. The arrows of Arga- thela fly thick and fast. Lochlin re- treats to the shore. The mild sons of prayer join in deathful strokes to aid the heroines of Argathela. Heaps of dying foes are on the rock of St. Columba. Songs of thanksgiving swell in every church, and the hero- ines of Argathela are blessed by holy lips.

The chief of Innerlochy returns in the far-spreading name of renown. In the fire of a mighty soul he hails the spouse of his love, the heroine that saved the Lie of Holy Vigils.

" By the Campa Run I won the he- roine of Lome from her father," he said, " and lovely was her fame among virgins. No dark deed stain- ed the pure light of her bosom, though the aged chief promised the sun of his race to gloomy Appin. Now the blaze of her steel is like the orb of noon, when his beams are on every hill, and his heat is felt in ca- verns of the deep. The sons of the mountains have slain or chased from valleys of the south the frowning

46

SOCIETY OF ARTS.

riders of stormy seas ; and mothers, daughters, sisters, and spouses of the great in arms, have stood as a ridge of hallowed fire, to save from pro- fanation the dwellings of the saints. Blessings from the Highest shall flow on them through all generations; and the song of bards shall mix the

renown of the Ceartnach Don with the mighty tempests of war. My race shall be known by the Campa Run. In the name of her first fight they shall brighten among the vali- ant through all generations, and ga- ther renown in the foremost ranks of war." B. G.

ANNIVERSARY AND REWARDS ADJUDGED BY THE SOCIETY OF ARTS.

The anniversary of that useful in- stitution, the Society for the En- couragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, was held as usual on the 28th of May. The great number of applications for admission to the interesting spectacle of the presentation of the rewards adjudg- ed by the Society, has for some years past pointed out the propriety of per- forming that ceremony in some more capacious building than the Society's house in the Adelphi. It was held this year at the King's Theatre in the Haymarket, and was attended by upwards of four thousand spec- tators of the first respectability. The whole of the arrangements produced a spectacle, which, for grandeur, far surpassed every former exhibition of the kind.

The rewards were presented by the Royal President, the Duke of Sussex, in the following order : IN AGRICULTURE & RURAL ECONOMY.

Lieutenant-Colonel Wildman, Newstead Abbey, for planting 500 acres with forest trees — gold Ceres medal.

Messrs. Cowley and Staines, Winslow, Bucks, for preparing I431bs. of opium from poppies grown in England — thirty guineas.

J. W. Jeston, Esq. Henley-on-Thames, for his improved mode of collecting the juice of the opium poppy — large silver medal.

W. Pyle Taunton, Esq. Cheam, Surrey, for early horse-beans — large silver medal. IN CHEMISTRY.

Mr. James Marsh, Rush Grove -place,

Woolwich, for a portable electro-magnetic apparatus — large silver medal and thirty guineas.

Mr. H. Marshall, Newcastle-on-Tyne, for improved melting-pots for brass-founders and steel-makers — large silver medal.

Mr. J. T. Cooper, Lambeth, for his im- provements in the apparatus for analyzing vegetable and animal substances — large sil- ver medal.

The same, for an hydrometer for saline solutions — gold Vulcan medal.

G. Gurney, Esq. Argyll-street, for an oxy- hydrogen blowpipe — gold Vulcan medal. IN POLITE ARTS.— Original Oil Paintings. Mr. G. Hilditch, jun. for a landscape — gold Isis medal.

Mr. R. H. Hilditch, for a landscape — large silver medal.

Miss Eliza Anne Drummond, for an histo- rical composition — silver Isis medal.

Mr. Philip Simpson, for a portrait — gold Isis medal.

Mr. J G. Middleton, for a portrait — large silver medal.

Mr. Jos. Miles Gilbert, for a marine paint- ing— silver Isis medal.

Mr. H. Pearsall, for a landscape — silver Isis medal.

Mr. F. W. Watts, for a landscape— large silver medal.

Mr. J. Porter, for an historical composition — silver Isis medal.

Miss Rose Emma Drummond, for an his- torical composition — large silver medal. Copies in Oil. Miss Jane Drummond, for a portrait- silver Isis medal.

Mr. H. Johnson, for a portrait— large sil- ver medal.

Mr. F. Rochard, for an historical subject — silver Isis medal.

Mr. S. Drummond, for an historical sub- ject—large silver medal.

SOCIETY OF ARTS.

47

Original Paintings in Water-Colours.

MissRobson, for a composition of flowers— silver Isis medal.

Miss Mary Willis, for a composition of flowers— large silver medal.

Mr. T. Richmond, for a portrait — silver Isis medal.

Miss M. Ross, for a portrait — large silver medal.

Miss Frances Eddy, for a composition in flowers — silver Isis medal.

Copies in Water- Colours.

Mr. James Hamilton Lawson, for a por- trait— silver palette.

Mr. T. Baynton, for a landscape — silver Isis medal.

Miss Matilda Smith, for a portrait — large silver medal.

Miss Mary Jane Hull, for a portrait — sil- ver Isis medal.

Miss Mary Willis, for a flower-piece — sil- ver Isis medal.

Mr. Frederick Rochard, for a portrait — silver Isis medal.

Mr. G. R. Ward, for a portrait — large sil- ver medal.

Original Drawing in Chalk.

Mr. J A. Cahusac, for a drawing of the musk-ox— silver palette.

Copies in Ink, Chalh, Pencil, fyc.

Mr. C. Horatio Bunning, for an historical subject — silver palette.

Mr. T. Barrett, for an historical subject — silver palette.

Miss Ann Hopkins, for a landscape— silver palette.

Miss Rowe, for an historical subject— silver Isis medal.

Miss Eliz. Clarke, for an historical subject — large silver medal.

Mr. W. Baker, for an historical subject — silver Isis medal.

Mr. Ebenezer Stalker, jun. for a land- scape— silver Isis medal.

Miss Louisa Mary Vully, for a head — sil- ver Isis medal.

Drawing in Outline from a Statue.

Mr. I. Solomon, for the Laocoon — large silver medal.

Finished Drawings from Statues and Busts.

Miss Sarah Cox, for a drawing from a bust — silver Isis medal.

Miss Jane Stalker, for a drawing from a bust — silver palette.

Mr. Evan Williams, for a drawing from a bust — silver Isis medal.

Mr. Phil. Corbet, for a drawing from a sta- tue—large silver medal.

Mr. P. H. Desvignes, for a drawing from a bust— silver palette.

Mr. J. Padgett, for a drawing from a bust

— large silver medal.

Mr. Ebenezer Stalker, for a drawing from a bust — silver palette.

Mr. T. Fairland, for a drawing from a fi- gure— large silver medal.

Mr E. Williams, for a drawing from an entire figure — silver Isis medal.

Mr S. W. Cecil, for a drawing of an ana- tomical figure — large silver medal.

Original Models in Plaster.

Mr. Ed. Edwards, for a group, Ulysses and Calypso— gold Isis medal.

Mr. Ed. G. Physick, for two single figures, Telemachus and Narcissus — large silver medal.

Models in Plaster, Copies.

Mr. Mich. Teasdale, for a head— silver palette.

Mr. Jos. Deare, for a model of a Bacchus

— silver Isis medal.

Mr. Ed. Edwards, for a model in the round from a group — large silver medal. Architecture.

Mr. P. H. Desvignes, for a drawing of a Corinthian capital — silver Isis medal.

Mr. C. Purser, for an original design for a British Museum — gold medallion.

Mr. Henry Basset, for an original design for a British Museum — gold Isis medal. Carving in Wood.

Mr. Nicholl, for a carving in wood of a figure — gold Isis medal,

Mr. Henry Bailes, for an original carving of flowers — silver Isis medal.

Mr. James Harris, for a syringe to preserve oil-paint in — large silver medal and ten guineas.

C. Warren, Esq. for his improvements in the art of engraving on steel-plate — large gold medal.

W. Brockedon, Esq. for a rest for painters — silver Isis medal.

Mr. W. Deeble, for his method of taking casts of leaves and foliage — silver Isis medal.

Mr. G. Mills, for the new die of the Vul- can medal presented by him — gold Vulcan medal.

IN MANUFACTURES.

Mr. W. V. Shenton, for an improved en- gine for tramming silk — silver Vulcan medal.

Mr. W. Cobbett, for plat from English grass — large silver medal.

IN MECHANICS.

Mr. C. A. Siebe, for a tap for hollow screws — silver Vulcan medal and five guineas.

48

CURE Ol' HYDROPHOBIA.

Mr. E. Pechey, for a mangle — silver Vul- can medal and ten guineas.

Ed. Speer, Esq. for his centrifugal check- hooks — silver Vulcan medal.

R. W. Wilkinson, Esq. Captain R. M. for a marine arm-chest — large silver medal.

J. Amesbury, Esq. for an apparatus for fractures of the lower limbs — gold Vulcan medal.

Mr. W. Raynes, for a cap for fractured patella— silver Vulcan medal and ten guineas.

Mr. James Jones, for a kiln for drying grain — large gold medal.

Mr. Jas. Dennett, for an apparatus for baling ships — large silver medal

C. C. Dansey, Esq. Captain Royal Artil Jery, for a kite for effecting a communica- tion between a stranded ship and the shore — gold Vulcan medaL

Mr. J. Evans, for his method of equaliz- ing the strain on tackles — large silver medal.

Mr J. Elliott, for his apparatus for the use of dry-grinders — gold Vulcan medal

IN COLONIES AND TRADE.

Mr. J. F. Donovan, Aberdour, Fifeshire, for exporting British cured herrings — fifty guineas.

Mr. Gregory Blaxland, for wine, the pro- duce of his viueyard in New-South Wales — large silver medaj.

The Society have also directed, that the fol- lowing performances in the class of Polite Arts be exhibited, on account of their me- rit, with those to which premiums have been awarded : A finished anatomical drawing, by Mr G.

Simpson.

An original painting of flowers, by Miss

Bowley.

A copy of a miniature, by Mr. Edwin

Dalton.

A finished drawing of the Gladiator, by

Mr. J. Padgett.

A drawing of the altar-screen of St. Sa- viour's church, Southwark, by Mr G. Gwilt,

jun.

A copy in oil, from the bust of Homer, by

Mr. Philip Corbett

A copy of a miniature, by Miss Mary- Anne

Hale.

The Society have also voted their special thanks

To Captain Hawkins, for his plantations of forest trees, near Kingsbridge, Devon.

To Mr. T. Jones, for his guard to the wheels of waggons.

Since the last distribution, one hundred and twenty-five new mem- bers have been elected.

CURE OF HYDROPHOBIA.

We have received from a gentle- man at Berlin, the following import- ant statement of the mode of cure practised in the Ukraine for the bite of a mad dog. It is translated from the Berlin State Gazette (No. 20), of the 14th of February, 1822, and does certainly seem entitled to the fullest consideration of all medical practitioners.

" When Mr. Marochetti, an ope- rator in the hospital at MoscoMr, was in the Ukraine in 1813, in one day fifteen persons applied to him for cure, having been bitten by a mad dog. Whilst he was preparing the remedies, a deputation of several old men made its appearance, to re-

quest him to allow a peasant to treat them, a man who for some years past enjoyed a great reputation for his cures of hydrophobia, and of whose services Mr. Marochetti had already heard much. He consented to their request, under these conditions — 1st, that he, Mr. Marochetti, should be present at every thing done by the peasant; — 2dly, in order that he might be fully convinced that the dog was really mad, he, Mr. Maro- chetti, should select one of the pa- tients, who should only be treated according to the medical cures usu- ally held in estimation. A girl of six years old was chosen for this purpose.

CUKE OF HYDROPHOBIA.

49

" The peasant gave to his four- teen patients a strong ' decoction' of the tops and flowers of yellow broom (about a pound and a half daily), and examined twice a day un- der the tongues, where, as he stated, small knots, containing the poison of the madness, must form themselves. As soon as these small knots actually appeared, and which Marochetti him- self saw, they were opened, and cau- terized with a red-hot needle; af- ter which the patient gargled with the decoction of broom. The re- sult of this treatment was, that all the fourteen (of whom only two, the last bitten, did not shew these knots,) were dismissed, cured, at the end of six weeks, during which time they drank this decoction. But the little girl, who had been treated according to the usual methods, was seized with hydrophobic symptoms on the seventh day, and was dead in eight hours after they first took place. The persons dismissed as cured were seen three years afterwards by Mr. Marochetti, and they were all sound and well.

" Five years after this circum- stance (in 1818), Mr. Marochetti had a new opportunity in Podolia of con- firming this important discovery. The treatment of twenty-six persons, who had there been bitten by a mad dog, was confided to him : nine were men, eleven women, and six children. He gave them at once a decoction of broom, and a diligent examination of their tongues gave the following result : — five men, all the women, and three children, had the small knots already mentioned ; those bitten worst, on the third day, others on the fifth, seventh, and ninth, and one woman, who had been bitten but very super- ficially in the leg only, on the twenty- first da\\ The other seven also, who

Vol.' II. No. TIL

shewed no small knots, drank the decoction six weeks, and all the pa- tients were cured.

" In consequence of these obser- vations, Mr. Marochetti believes that the hydophobic virus, after remain- ing a short time in the wound, fixes itself for a certain time under the tongue, at the openings of the ducts of the sub-maxillary glands, which are at each side of the tongue-string, and there forms those small knots in which one may feel with a probe a fluctuating fluid, which is that hy- drophobic virus. The usual time of their appearance seems to be be- tween the third and ninth day after flie bite ; and if they are not opened within the first twenty-four hours af- ter their formation, the poison is re- absorbed into the body, and the pa- tient is lost beyond the power of cure. For this reason Mr. Marochetti re- commends that such patients should be immediately examined under the tongue, which should be continued for six weeks, during which time they should take daily one pound and a half of the decoction of broom (or four times a day the powder, 1 drachm pro closi). If the knots do not appear in this time, no madness is to be apprehended ; but as soon as they shew themselves, they should be opened with a lancet, and then cauterized, and the patient should gargle assiduously with the above- mentioned decoction.

" We hasten to communicate to our readers this important disco- very (which we borrow from the 'Petersburg Miscellaneous Treatises in the Sciences, for 1821,') which certainly deserves the full attention of all medical practitioners ; and which, if confirmed by experience, may have the most beneficial results." H

50

MUSICAL REVIEW.

Mozart's Six Grand Symphonies, arranged for the Piano-forte, with Accompaniments of Flute, Violin, and Violoncello, by J. N. Hum- mel, Maitre tie Chapelle to the Duke of Saxe-Weimar. Nos. I. and II. Pr. 8s. 6d. each ; with- out Accompaniments, Gs. — (Print- ed and sold for the Proprietor by Chappell and Co. New Bond-st.) When a composer of such talents and celebrity as Hummel undertakes the arduous task of adapting the most classic of Mozart's symphonies for the piano-forte, we are warranted in expecting a work of a superior stamp ; and such was our impression when we saw the first promise of the pub- lication. But we candidly own, with all the high opinion we entertained of Mr. H. we did not anticipate the excellence, the absolute perfection, which we behold in every page, we may say in every line, of this arrange- ment. We are astonished, we are filled with admiration ! The present piano-forte extract does not consist of a mere sprinkling allotment of the principal notes in the score : it shews, at the first view, that the adapter ab- solutely analyzed and dissected his original, and remodelled the whole mass into the more contracted mould into which he had determined to cast the materials. It is equally obvious, that in the accomplishment of this design, the utmost care and diligence were not the only assistants that guid- ed the pen; a constant exercise of sound musical judgment and science is every where apparent. In fact, Mozart's symphonies may here be said to have been converted into a species of piano-forte concertos, in which harmonic combination and ful-

ness, rather than passages of execu- tion, constitute the points of interest and difficulty. An arrangement like this we never saw before, and we doubt whether it will be our good fortune to behold the like hereafter. It will form a feature in the history of the art, and will ever remain a model for similar undertakings.

The three accessory instruments are less strongly charged than we expected. This no doubt was inten- tionally done. Their parts are there- by rendered more easy ; and, what is of greater moment, the piano- forte has by that means been ena- bled to dispense with the accompa- niments. The two numbers before us consist of the two grand classic symphonies in D major and G minor. Mr. Hummel, we are informed, is at this moment employed in arrang- ing the piano-forte concertos of Mo- zart in a manner similar to these symphonies. By so doing, he will accomplish what has long been a pi- ous wish of amateurs, inasmuch as the limited circulation these incom- parable concertos have hitherto en- joyed, is owing to the obligato na- ture of the accompaniments, which rendered it impossible to perform them satisfactorily without the assist- ance of a full orchestra. Grand Variations on " the Fall of Paris" for the Piano-forte, by Ignace Moscheles. Pr. 6s. — (Boo- sey and Co. Holies-street.) The circumstance of our noticing these brilliant and universally favour- ite variations at so late a period af- ter their first publication, is attended with some advantage. We need not waste many words in their recom- mendation. They have since made

MUSICAL REVIEW.

51

their way with surprising rapidity into the musical library of almost every amateur of any pretension in this country, and have been played by Mr. Moscheles himself on seve- ral occasions at public concerts, and at the last oratorios. Half the town has thus heard them with expressions of rapture never bestowed, in an equal degree, upon the best piano- forte performances. These varia- tions really are masterly and delight- ful. As a further distinguishing fea- ture, we may mention the beautiful " Tutti," which intervene between each variation. Although originally written for piano -fortes of the pre- sent extended scale, and so printed here, additional staves are given in this edition, which not only confine the execution between the ordinary range of six octaves, but, in other respects, render it less difficult. L' Aurora. d'Italia, osla Scelta rac- colta dei Pezzi favoriti delta Mu- sa Italiana Moderna per esempio degli Signori Rossini, Caraffa, Coccia, General!, Mercadante, Mosca, Pavesi, §'c. per il Canto, con Accomp. di Piano-forte. No. I. Pr. 8s. — (Boosey and Co.) Messrs. Boosey and Co. state the object of this work to be the publi- cation of original manuscripts by the above-mentioned eminent mas- ters, or of such of their compositions as have been highly applauded in Italy, and are unknown in this coun- try; at the same time not neglecting the operas performed at the King's Theatre. Each number is to con- tain thirty pages; its price 7s. to subscribers — to non-subscribers, 8s. Although " La Donna del Lago" is by this time well known in Lon- don, few will find fault with the pub- lishers for devoting the commencing

number to that opera, and proposing to continue it in the next. There is a peculiar charm and sweetness in the melodies, and more originality than Rossini is in the habit of allot- ting to a single opera of his. Hence the music has increased in attraction on every performance at the King's Theatre.

In the present number we trace every thing that is worth having in the first act (except the beautiful quintett " Crudele Sospetto," which appears to be intended for the second number); viz.

" Oh mattutini Albori." — Cavatina. " Scendi nel pieeol legno." — Duet. " Elena, oh tuch' io chiamo." — Cavatina. " Vivere io non potro." — Duet. " Quanto a quest' alma amante." — Ter- zctt. (Finale.)

The introduction to the opera, al- though it is scarcely vocal, is so fine and original a composition, that it might without impropriety have been included. As to the arrangement, we are warranted in pronouncing it so skilful, complete, and effective, that we can only express a wish that equal care may be employed in the progress of the work, the object, ele- gance, and reasonableness of which, bid fair to give it a very extended circulation. We could wish the time were metronomically marked; the right tempo is so essential in vocal music.

Selection of Songs, Duets, §c. from

the most admired German Operas,

ivit/i English Words, by Thomas

Campbell, Esq. Nos. I. and II.

Pr. 2s. each. — (Boosey and Co.)

Each of these numbers contains a

piece from the German opera " Der

Freyschiitz," of which some account

was given in our preceding Number.

Not being in possession of the ori-

H 2

52

MUSICAL REVIEW.

ginal words, we cannot give an opi- nion as to general correctness of the English translation, which after all is a consideration of minor import- ance in the present publication. At all events, Mr. Campbell's verses are worthy of his name, and suitable to the general import of the musical periods. In No. I. we find a little chorus of rather a light musical tex- ture. No. II. contains an air in four flats, of greater pretension, and of considerable interest and originality of idea. The English words accord well with the melody, although there are some exceptions, which are less to be attributed to the poet than to the adapter of the music, if any adapter existed for the English text. In p. 3, for instance, the line " The hour that bids us part," is musically scanned, " The hour that," &c. An- other line, " And death seems in the word farewell," sits also rather awk- wardly under the music, the quicker notes having too many words allotted to them.

In adaptations of this kind, it is not sufficient that the poet should furnish his translation strictly cor- respondent with the metre of the original. The music generally re- quires some slight further qualifica- tion as to accompaniment and syllabic arrangement, giving, taking, &c. — This seems to have been wanting here in some instances at least, and we advert to the circumstance by way of hint for the future num- bers.

" Que e 71 of every moving measure" the Words by Warton, composed, and dedicated to Eliza Fontaine, by J. F. Danneley. Pr. Is. Gd. — (Chappell and Co.) This song is written in a vein of chaste feeling, which, independently

of its accessory merits, cannot fail to charm the ear of good taste. The principal motivo is conceived with tender pathetic simplicity; the ac- companiment is rich and diversified ; and some short connecting phrases are highly interesting. A second strain in E minor, p. 3, also calls for distinct and favourable mention. Be- sides its melodic attraction, it exhi- bits some modulations of no common order. The 13th bar of p. 2 we deem objectionable; the chords C», 3 and 13, 3 », as here treated, leav- ing an impression of consecutive fifths on the ear. In the triplet accompa- niment the melodic notes of the voice might have been less closely followed. We had almost omitted to speak of the rhythm, the regularity and ge- neral propriety of which add greatly to the value of the composition. Glee for four Voices, written by W. Sheperd, composed, and dedicated to Dr. Crotch, by J. M'Murdie, Mus. Bac. Oxon. Pr. 3s.— (Cle- menti and Co.)

Want of space prevents us from entering into an analysis of this glee, which contains many beauties de- serving of special comment. It is altogether a manly, highly interest- ing and scientific composition; in fact, it exhibits, more or less, every at- traction we seek in a vocal quartett of this class. The melodies in F minor and F major are good, and uncommonly well adapted to the text : the arrangement of the parts, their fundamental harmony, their oc- casional canonic treatment, their in- dividual melodic progress, demand our unqualified approbation. In short, the whole glee exhibits a union of taste and matured science, which greatly elevates it above the usual productions of this description.

MUSICAL UK VIEW

5.3

" The Champion Waltz" Rondo for the Piano-forte, composed, and dedicated to Miss Fleet, by J. Monro. Pr. 2s. — (Monro, Skin- ner-street.)

This is not Beethoven or Mo- scheles, nor meant to be such ; but it is a sensible, and, we may add, a very pretty thing. The melodies are good, fresh, attractive, and facile ; the treatment clear, unaffected, and intelligible; the digressive portions in character and good keeping; and the harmonies correct, adequate, and effective. In short, the Champion rondo is just such a piece as we would wish to place before a pupil of eight or twelve months' training, although such as are further ad- vanced could not help being pleased with it.

" Orythia," Air Fantasia for the Piano-forte, composed, and dedi- cated to Miss Bulwer, by E. Woodward. Pr. 2s. — (Monro, Skinner-street.)

Likewise a waltz subject, cast into the form of a rondo, with a Scotch tune intervening. Amidst several commendable and pleasing concep- tions, we observe some ideas of an awkward and heterogeneous com- plexion, and some hard-featured pas- sages, such as the bottom lines of p. &

In general, the different melodic thoughts seem to want connection ; they do not naturally arise out of each other, are not children of the same family, as it were. Some of the modulations are forcible and striking, such as 11. S and 7 in the 4th page, and the author winds himself through with credit. If this rondo is an early essay, we should augur well of future efforts, as further experience would tend to smooth the style and prune

| some of the extraneous and Avild | shoots of fancy which here present ! themselves. Ode to Spring, a Pastoral Glee; the Words by R. Gooch, Esq. of St. Johns College, Cambridge, composed by Saml.Webbe. Pr.2s. — (Hodsoll, High-Holborn.) Viewed as a composition in a style which, although now nearly obsolete, maintains its admirers, this glee claims considerable attention. Its melodies, in the solos, duets, and parts a trc, are, generally, of this description; and some of these, al- ! though not of modern complexion, J are clear, natural, and appropriate. j Of this nature is the duet p. 4, and more particularly the f movement j fa tre), pp. 8 and 9, which presents melodic periods of unquestionable interest, and is supported by a very clever accompaniment. To the alle- gretto, p. 6, and especially the bass solo, we cannot profess great parti- ality. The melody of the latter is uninteresting in itself, and certainly too stern and hard for the lightsome and joyous text.

The harmonic arrangement exhi- bits many features of science and skilful contrivance, good imitations, and passages of considerable contra- puntal artifice.

Rossini's much admired Overture and Introduction to the Opera of " La Donna del Lago" perform- ed at the King's Theatre, arrang- ed for the Piano-forte, with Ac- companiments for a Flute, Violin, and Violoncello (ad lib.), by S. F. Ilimbault. Pr. 8s.; without Ac- companinents, 2s. — (Hodsoll.) " In ?nor /ling's dawn no hope I see" the popular Cavatina sung by Sig- nor Cnrioni, with the Harp Ac- companiment in " La Donna del

54

EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

La go" composed by Signor Ros- sini. Pr. Is. — (Hodsoll.) The above introduction to La Donna del Lago (overture it cannot be called) is one of the happiest pro- ductions of Rossini's pen, full of spi- rit, good melody, and harmonic com- bination. Mr. Rimbault's arrange- ment is unexceptionable ; it has pre- served every interesting feature of the original. We recommend it, therefore, strongly to our readers, not hesitating to pledge our credit with them, that they will be delight- ed with the piece.

The vocal cavatina is a free and pretty fair translation of " Aurora che sorgerai," of which the Italian words are likewise given. It is a lovely little jewel, and always encored at the King's Theatre. The arrange- ment being satisfactory, we may also well recommend this shillings-worth to favourable notice. " When meteor lights" German Air from " the Melodies of various Nations," arranged by H. R. Bi- shop, with Variations for the Pi- ano-forte,- composed, and dedicat- ed to Miss Stamforth, by Ferdi- nand Ries. Op. 105. No.3. No. 34. Var. Pr. 3s.— (Goulding & Co. Soho-square.)

The above numbers and sub-num- bers of Mr. Ries's works proclaim

the fertility and assiduity of his pen. It has of late been rather too much devoted to variation-writing; but, as artists of any class cannot always work for fame, we must content our- selves with what Mr. R. dispenses, so long as it is not altogether unwor- thy of his name. This is the case with the present variations, the theme of which is a simple and very origi- nal German air, particularly noticed in our review of the work quoted in the title. The merit of the subject seems to have exerted an advantage- ous influence on the variations. They are extremely interesting, of very diversified character, and certainly not of appalling difficulty. Excel- lent practice.

" Home, sweet home" sung by Miss M. Tree in " Clari, or the Maid of Milan" at the Theatre Royal Covent - Garden, composed, and partly founded on a Sicilian Air, by II. R. Bishop. Pr. Is. 6d.— (Goulding and Co.) This air is likewise taken from " the Melodies of various Nations," above referred to. It is a sweet sim- ple tune ; but the English text here assigned to it, requires some manage- ment to bring it smoothly under the authentic melody: it certainly was never intended for the musical me- tre of the air.

FINE ARTS.

EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

The present Exhibition at the British Institution is composed of a fine selection from the pictures of Sir Joshua Reynolds, with some dis- tinguished works of the Italian, Spa- nish, Dutch, and Flemish schools.

The Directors of this excellent and patriotic establishment, in the preface to their catalogue, hint at the propriety, for the improvement of our artists, of a periodical exhibi- tion of Sir Joshua Reynolds's pic-

EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

55

tr.res. With great deference to the judgment of so many distinguished patrons of art, we confess our ina- bility to comprehend the advantage of carrying such an intention into effect, even if a careful selection could be made : for although no per- son can doubt the great obligations due to Sir Joshua, for his restora- tion of British art from the state of dry insipidity and mere mannerism in which he found it, and for the dignity, respectability, and independ- ence which his moral worth shed upon the profession of which he was so great an ornament; yet the nature of his practice, which so exclusively confined him to portrait-painting, the inequality of his paintings, the fre- quent tendency to experiment in the executive application of his materials, laudable at the time, but, in most in- stances, eventually ineffectual, would, we think, present many obstacles to the practical fulfilment of the hopes cherished from such an exhibition. The students in art cannot fail to derive improvement from the contem- plation of Reynolds's works, which the industry of his meritorious life distributed so generally throughout the country, as to be easily accessible, without being exposed to the risk of making copies indiscriminately from periodical Exhibitions. Sir Joshua himself would not have recommend- ed such a course; on the contrary, his recommendation to the eccentric Bar- ' ry, at Rome, was to study the princi- I pies by which that stupendous great- i ness of style, which predominated in the sublime works of the Capella Sistina, was produced, in preference to copying the St. Cecilia in the Bor- ghese, or the Herodias of Guido, ' ;~h, he adds, " may be copied to without contributing one jot

towards making a man an able paint- er." The Discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds at the Royal Academy contain invaluable information on all subjects connected with the study of art, and the unerring principles up- on which that study should be pur- sued.

There are sixty-four of this great ! artist's works in this Exhibition, by j far the greater number of course por- traits. Engravings of nearly all have rendered them familiar to the public. Sterne's Portrait, from Lord Hol- land's collection, was first exhibited in 1761 at the Spring-Gardens Room. The Death of Dido and the fine Por- traits of the Ladies Waldegrare were in the Royal Academy in 1781 ; the Cupid and Psyche were in it in 1789. The Portrait of the late Duke of Orleans (from the collection of his Majesty, who is a munificent contributor to this Exhibition,) is that which was placed over the chair of the illustrious but unfortunate origi- nal, at the grand dinner given to his presentMajesty previous to the open- ing of the Royal Academy Exhibi- tion in 1786. This was a favourite portrait of Sir Joshua, who remark- ed how few persons appear with grace and ease when the arms are wholly unemployed, and that he ne- ver saw any man stand in such a po- sition so well as the Duke of Or- leans. The Ugolino in this Exhibi- tion (from the Duchess of Dorset's collection) is, notwithstanding the various criticisms upon its merits, an eminent example of pathos and force of expression. The same ob- servation applies to the Death of C or- dinal Beaufort. These works in general convey an adequate idea of the taste of Sir Joshua Reynolds, of the breadth and freedom of his pen-

56

LONDON FASHIONS.

cilling, and richness and brilliancy of his colouring, notwithstanding the occasional failure of his attempts to attain that exquisite tone acquired by the old masters.

The other pictures are by Ru- bens, Both, Teniers, Mctzu, Ostade, Wouvermans, Rembrandt, Vandyke, Claude, Cuyp, and the other princi-

pal masters who distinguished them- selves all over Europe after the re- vival of painting. Most of them have been already exhibited, and they are undoubtedly fine specimens of the respective styles of the artists whose names they bear, and well cal- culated to preserve the high reputa- tion of their talents.

FASHIONS.

LONDON FASHIONS.

MORNING DRESS.

Dress of plain jaconot muslin ; the corsage made high, close to the shape, and fastened behind. The elegant fa- shion of ornamenting the front of the skirt has become very prevalent; that in our print has a pagoda trimming formed by bands edged with cord, and narrow trimming of work de- scending gradually and regularly till it reaches the bottom, where there are four narrow worked flounces, each headed by flat corded bands, the upper one surmounted by a row of delicate insertion-work, the same as is introduced on each side of the pagoda trimming. The corsage is nearly covered with similar bands, corded, trimmed and arranged on clear book muslin, narrow at the waist both in front and back, but extend- ing the whole width on the shoulder: falling collar of worked muslin leaves ; long sleeve, nearly tight; worked ruf- fle, and small pagoda trimming at the wrist, where it is tied with primrose- colour ribbon drawn through a nar- row pufling of book muslin : the epaulette is divided in the centre, and tied at the top in a bow, and trimmed with a row of puffed book muslin and narrow work.

Round morning cap of sprigged net satin, and primrose-colour gauze ribbon; border of British Mechlin lace, plain in the front, and in large puffs on each side. Primrose -colour kid shoes and eloves.

BALL DRESS.

British tulle dress worn over a white satin slip: the corsage compos- ed of white satin bands, branching from the front; each band corded and trimmed with narrow blond ; two bands continue over the shoulder, and renew the same trimming at the back: the sleeve is of the melon form, with sprays of satin confining the tulle ; in the centre is a circular space, occasioned b; the omission of the sa- tin, and a cluster of China roses is in- troduced, which has a novel and ele- gant effect. The tucker is of fine blond, surmounting a satin band of French folds ; from the wrist descends a succession of small oval baskets of tulle, edged with white satin, each containing a China rose and leaves : three rows of the same light taste- ful baskets are continued round the bottom of the dress, which '''^SiAfbi- edwith a. broad white s?',' 1#ltis'a pic-

GENERAL OBSERVATION* GN FASHION AND DRESS.

57

white satin sash, with double how he- hind.

Milanese head-dress, composed of thirteen pins, two stationary and one pendant ball; the pins are of gold, with the heads of patent pearl, and are stack circularly in a plaited band of the hind hair: this is a very pret- ty novel head-dress, and accords with the grace of feminine beauty and youthful fancy. Necklace, ear-rings, and bracelets, of embossed gold and pink topazes interspersed. White kid gloves, with a quilling of blond at the top ; white satin shoes, and a rose-bud introduced in the centre of the white satin rosette.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.

Notwithstanding the warmth of the weather, plain promenade dress has a heavier appearance than is usu- al at this time of year, owing to pe- lisses and high silk dresses being so much in favour. Leghorn and plain and fancy straw are the materials most used for bonnets, but the latter article is not much in estimation.

Carriage or dress promenade cos- tume is extremely light and tasteful; but we have noticed only one decid- ed novelty, that is, a spencer a laji- chu: it is made in white lace over peach-blossom coloured satin, fastens in front with lozenge buttons to cor- respond in colour, comes up to the neck, but without a collar, and is fi- nished round the throat by a deep lace frill: a double pelerine, pointed behind and at the ends, and having the upper part more shallow than the under, is disposed round the back in a bouillonne, fastened from distance to distance by lozenge buttons, and the ends hang loosely from the point .

Vol, II. No. VII.

of each shoulder, a little below the waist. The sleeve is made an easy width, and finished at the hand with bouillonne intermixed with peach- blossomed gimp. The ceinture cor- responds in colour, and is fastened either with a gold or silver buckle.

We have noticed also a carriage pelisse of sprigged net, with the shape of the corsage marked out by letting- in lace : this is rather an advantage- ous style of corsage for a fine figure, but it has something of a formal air. The trimming of this pelisse is very pretty ; it consists of a bouillonne of net formed by branches of bright green satin leaves, laid on from dis- tance to distance in a bias direction : this trimming goes only round the bottom, the front being fastened up by bows of bright green satin, to correspond with the trimming and lining of the pelisse. The epaulette corresponds with the trimming of the skirt.

There is a good deal of variety in the shape of bonnets: they are all, however, of a moderate size ; indeed in some instances rather small, par- ticularly those of the cottage shape. Flowers are much in favour, and down feathers equally so : the latter either correspond with the bonnet, or have an intermixture, as rose and white, blue and white, &c. &c. The prettiest among the transparent bon- nets are those in blond net, embroi- dered in floss silk round the edge of the brim and on the crown: these bonnets are always adorned with flowers and gauze ribbons.

Cambric muslin is more used than it has been for several seasons in morning dress. Open robes, with petticoats worked to correspond, are more in favour than flounced dresses.

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FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

Jaconot muslin gowns embroidered in colours are very fashionable in half-dress: some are trimmed with flounces lightly embroidered round the edge; others are worked at the bottom of the skirt in a large snowy pattern : the ground of the dress has usually a small sprig to correspond in colour. The bodies are made tight to the shape, in some instances half high, and always with long sleeves. The favourite colours for these dress- es are, mignonette-green, lilac, rose, and straw colour.

Full dress is at present simple and tasteful, rather than rich: the fa- vourite materials for young ladies' dresses are, gauze, tulle, and net, over white, or in some instances co- loured satin. The trimmings consist of an intermixture of satin with the

material of the dress, or else a boiril- lonnt mingled with flowers, gauze ribbons, or satin shells. The cor- sage usually fastens behind, and the bust continues to be much ornament- ed. Waists are still very long, backs narrow at bottom, and short sleeves very full. The hair continues to be dressed low behind, and full on the temples. Flowers are much in fa- vour for the hair in full dress, but jewels we think more so. Pearls in- termixed with coloured stones are very much used. Indian and Turk- ish turbans are in favour with ma- tronly belles: they are ornamented with feathers, and sometimes with jewels.

Fashionable colours are, pale blue, mignonette-green, lilac, rose colour, bright green, and straw colour.

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

Paris, June 18.

My dear Sophia,

Silk is now very little seen in the public promenades, gowns being either of bareges, coloured muslin, or cambric muslin. The bareges are such as I have before described : the coloured muslins have always a white ground nearly covered with a run- ning pattern. Citron, green, and li- lac are the colours most in favour ; these are likewise the favourite co- lours for bareges: the latter are a good deal trimmed with satin tucks, triangles, and deep flounces of the material of the gown. The deep tucks at the bottom of some cambric muslin blouses have been superseded in some measure by entre-deux of embroidery, placed between clusters of small tucks, put five or six toge- ther. Waists are something longer. Scarfs, &c. continue to be of the

light kind I described in my last, with the addition, however, of China crape scarfs, which now begin to be as fa- shionable as those of lace or bareges. Bonnets are mostly of gauze, crape, or rice-straw : we see, however, still some in silk and cotton straw : these latter are adorned with bands of the same material, and finished by trian- gles of alternate red and green satin. The newest promenade chapeau is the gleaner's hat; it is of the gipsy form, and composed partly of straw and partly of satin: this hat is always trimmed with ears of ripe corn, of which there is a bouquet round the crown, and some also scattered round the edge of the brim, and even un- der the edge. Rice-straw hats are frequently adorned with a bareges scarf twisted round the crown, and tied at the side. Some transparent hats are embroidered in coloui'ed

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

59

silks : the favourite ornament of this description is a garland of ivy round the brim. There is so much variety in the trimmings of hats, that it would be difficult to say what is most in favour ; flowers, bareges scarfs, gauze ribbons, ripe corn, and down feathers, being all worn.

Crepe lisse, figured gauze, and white bareges, are all in favour in full dress. The sultane is still very much worn, but if the dress is long, it more than touches the ground. The corsage continues to be finished in the stomacher style with satin, blond, &c. A good many dresses have the bust cut in the form of a V, which is certainly advantageous to the shape. Gowns are cut very low round the bust; the skirts are moderately trim- med. Flowers and embroidery are more used than any thing else for trimmings: the embroidery is ex- tremely beautiful ; it is done in floss

silk, with a mixture of satin, chenille, or pearl beads. The ceiniure is worn very broad : sashes and girdles are equally in favour. The hair, ex- cept for youthful belles, is a good deal covered in full dress. Toques, turbans, and dress caps are all worn, as well as dress hats with small brims, which have a lining in the form of a fan. These hats are adorn- ed with ostrich-feathers, one half of which is white and the other colour- ed, or else with white or corn-colour- ed marabouts. I see that in speak- ing of promenade costume, I have forgotten to tell you, that our fa- shionable shoes are brun solitaire, or violet leather, or black Turkish sa- tin.

Fashionable colours are the same as last month. Adieu, via chere So- phie! Ever your