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THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM.

TO THE EDITOR

Mr. H. apparently thinks himself possessed of the same
prerogative as the mock Doctor, and is marvellously ex-
pert "à changer tout cela."

Mr. Hamilton, at the conclusion of his epistle, seems
to have some doubts and misgivings on his mind, and to
fancy I may possibly be offended, because he has not said
enough. Those apprehensions are perfectly unnecessary;
for I am willing to give him credit for having said all that
he had to say, and no man can do more.
to assure him, that I think his letters are exactly such as
I also beg leave
an adversary would wish him to write. Hoping that this
frank declaration will set his mind at rest, I remain, Sir,
your most obedient servant,
Preston, Feb. 24, 1825.

VERBEIENSIS.

Correspondence

PANORAMA OF ALGIERS, TARLETON-STREET.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR,-I beg leave to return my best thanks to Mr. Hamilton, for the compliment he has been pleased to pass on my facility and purity of style. I wish I could, in return for his courtesy, allow him the credit of being able or willing to understand what I say; but this does not appear to be the case, for he has most grievously misrepresented my meaning in almost every sentence of his last letter. He appears, indeed, to have interpreted several of my statements by the rule of contrary, and to have supposed me to write on the principle laid down by the gentleman in the French comedy, "Quand je dis ouic'est à dire non." He says, for example, that "I gave the French sentence as my own, as the French of to-day; that I claim a perfect knowledge of Hebrew, Arabic, Persian, and six or seven other languages; that I admit that no such grammars and dictionaries as are now in use existed with the Greeks and Romans." All these things SIR,-Your correspondent, W. I. D., in your last, in I flatly deny, and I defy the most ingenious special pleader passing his encomiums on the Diorama, perfectly coincides to extract any such meaning from my words. Mr. H. with my own opinion, and I am equally a detestor of and his friends are welcome to impute as much ignorance editors allowing a single sentence to be inserted in favour to me as they please: if it is really so glaring as he says, of an exhibition when undeserving; but when any thing it must be a very easy task for him to expose and refute of superior merit appears, it behoves every person who my statements, which, however, he has not attempted to is a judge to give his opinion of it fearlessly. I, as do, except by mere assertions, without proof. His cautious a brother artist, have inspected every panorama, (if reserve on these points, coupled with the prevailing tone such a name may be given to what under that denoof his last communication, will probably remind your mination has been exhibited here for years past,) and I readers of a certain defendant at Lancaster assizes, who have really begrudged that their authors should ever had no defence to make, but instructed his council to take have been benefitted by my mite; for I considered, in care and abuse the attorney on the opposite side. His every instance, they were very inferior: but such is not letter affords such ample scope for criticism, that I must the cause with Algiers. I was, from motives of my usual reserve the discussion of it for a period of greater leisure; curiosity, led to inspect it, and I candidly pronounce it a but I promise that you shall hear again from me shortly, painting of superior merit, and, as such, I consider it fair and I trust that Mr. H. will have no cause to complain of to introduce it to those who feel pleasure in witnessing what my leaving any material part of his last communication may be termed a work of art of a very high order: the unnoticed. I shall just observe at present, that with re- water is by far the best executed of any thing I ever spect to the identity of the elementary sounds of all lan- saw as a Panorama; the grouping of the ships and the guages, Mr. H. has rather shifted his ground. In his figures are also excellent, but, above all, the fire is very first letter he says most positively-"the simple sounds of superior, and it was by a repetition of visits that I found all languages are the same"-but in his second he intro- it was not transparent. In the last view of the city duces the convenient saving clause--" with few excep- in ruins, the broken piles and architecture altogether tions!" This is so truly an Hibernican method of getting is finished with as much taste as the Diorama itself, with over a difficulty, that I suspect it has been borrowed from the exception of the one being a stationary, and the old Thady, in Castle Rackrent, who informs us, that "of other a moving picture. I am alike unknown to both the forty-five lawsuits, Sir Murtagh never lost one-but seven-proprietors of those exhibitions. I leave the critique of teen." In imitation of this figure of speech, I would re- my friend to serve the one, and in candour to my own commend Mr. H. to say, in future-" The simple sounds of all languages are the same, except that there are scarcely two languages in which they do not vary:" and though this would sound rather oddly, it would be nearer the truth than any thing which he has yet said on the subject. I will also remark, that, in my enumeration of sounds not in our language, I purposely omitted a number, for the sake of brevity, with which I am ready to furnish Mr. H. whenever he pleases to ask for them. To the French u, for instance, I could have added the nasal n, or m, and this would give us two sounds not found in English, instead of only one.

opinion state, that Algiers will not leave Liverpool with-
out most handsomely remunerating the proprietor, as
every person, from the cabin-boy to the highest circles,
will find it is rather under than over the mark, which I have
stated. I detest puffing as much as W. I. D., but I should
feel the greatest pleasure, should this meet the eye of
Mr. Laidlaw himself, along with your numerous circle of
readers, to shew him that I, as an artist, feel a pride in
inspecting his beautiful Panorama, and of giving the
public such an idea of it as it is well deserving of.
I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

THE DIORAMA.

T. R. S.

Though I knew that Mr. H. had some very peculiar ideas on literary subjects, I must confess that I was as much staggered with what he says about Milton and Cervertantes, as Géronte in "Le Médecin malgré lui" was The following article relates to two distinct pictures, when told that the heart is on the right side, and the which were exhibiting at the same time and in the same liver on the left. I had always imagined, in the plenitude building in London. The interior of Canterbury Cathe of my ignorance, that, if there ever were any works gene-dral is now exhibiting here to the astonishment and derally allowed to be standard compositions, Don Quixote light of the town. The Valley of Sarnen, which we have in Spanish, and Paradise Lost in English, deserved that not yet seen, will be exhibited, we understand, in due time, character; but it seems I was mistaken. Mr. H. will when the view of the Cathedral is withdrawn. perhaps say with Sganarelle-" Aye, it was formerly the case, mais nous avons changé tout cela." This, of course, would be quite unanswerable; and I will beg leave to add, that, in deciding upon points of history, grammar, and criticism, and stating the arguments of his opponents,

[From the Evening Star.]

as a curious example of the astonishing pitch to which the
This new Exhibition is, indeed, a very superb, as well
power of pictorial illusion may be carried.

The disposition of the light is managed with great an and produces the happiest effect. We understand that is the invention of a French artist, and has been exhibite in Paris with success.

of Canterbury Cathedral. The first is one of the t
The Views consist of the Valley of Sarnen, and Interie
beautiful and romantic spots in Switzerland. It com
hends a circle of about three leagues, and is characteri
by every thing which can render it delicious, In
pleasant scenery.
village of Sarnen, with a cottage, high road, and
painting, we have immediately before us, the skirts of

the protection of the wooded hills which surround
Further on is the beautiful lake, sleeping placidly s
which are covered with verdure and wood up to their s
mits. In the distance are the lofty peaks of some of the Sw
Alps, covered with eternal snows. All the different par
of this prospect are wrought with up with singular shill
The various accidents of light and shadow are
by the artificial distribution of natural light, a to desire
the spectator into the conviction that he is ping po
real prospect.

The view of the Cathedral is more marvellous nificent edifice, stand out in their natural cleanes and effects. All the architectural parts of this lofty and proportion.

The painted window

66

are beautifully painted, and the rich Gothic pillars,
Richly dight,
"Casting a dim religious light,"
and tracery works, are in their full and imposing in
sions. In the front of the picture (it is quite a man
our senses to call it a picture) are the steps which a
them, and some planks are left lying carelessly
up to the nave.
Their truth is magical. The spectators are in a p
The workmen have just been rep
contrived gallery, which turns round at stated intere
present the different views to the spectators.
that the building itself (which is a very large and
together with the paintings, &c. have cost ani
as "the triumph of perspective, and the ne
sum of money. Altogether the Diorama may be
of pictorial illusion."

To Correspondents.

FASHIONABLE VULGARISM.-If T. A. M. had not informe

that he is a very young man, we should have discover fact by a certain pettishness in his note, whichevinesi he has not only misconceived our meaning, but p tirely wrong construction upon the motive which h us to advise him to correct a palpable grammatical en fore his verses appeared in the Kaleidoscope. It is pronoun you or thee that we find fault with; it is the noun I, which is in the wrong case. We need hardy T. A. M. that the preposition between governs the aces case, and not the nominative; the sentence, then ought to be "between you and me," or "thee and ma conceive it more poetical. We repeat that it is a shionable vulgarism, on the stage and in common car tion, to say " between you and I;" but nothing em will perceive

such a glaring inaccuracy.-T. 4. Mother couplet;

have not presumed to substitute

are disappointed that he has not furnished another as the lines are very good.

THE NARRATIVE OF AN EXCURSION TO LOCH LONGE which we were favoured some time since, shall be ed forthwith. We wish somewhat more painsh stowed upon the style, which is rather careles cursion will not fail, however, to gratify the maj readers, as the scenery described is some Britain.

CHATTERTON.-The verses of S. T. relating to Chatter other subjects are in the hands of our printers

The great length of several of the articles in this Kaleidoscope, viz.-The Letter on the Reformation, Floods in Holland, the Essay on Satire, the article on and Vapour Bathing, and the Naturalist's Diary, has us to postpone, till next week, the monthly List of P the Chess Table, a notice of Mr. Vandenhoff, at Ellak Juvenis, a paragraph respecting the Chess Clubs of and Scotland, and several other articles, including as ginal Walts, by a Lvierpool gentleman. HENRY BELL.The letter of our Glasgow corresponde this interesting subject shall be inserted next week.

Printed, published, and sold, EVERY TUESDAY

E. SMITH & CO. 75, Lord-street, Liverpool

OR,

Literary and Scientific Mirror.

UTILE DULCI."

sfamiliar Miscellany, from whichreligious and political matters are excluded, contains a variety of original and selected Articles; comprehending Literature, Criticism, Men and Manners, musement, Elegant Extracts, Poetry, Anecdotes, Biography, Meteorology, the Drama, Arts and Sciences, Wit and Satire, Fashions, Natural History, &c. &c. forming a handsome Annual lume, with an Index and Title-page.—Its circulationrenders it a most eligible medium for Literary and Fashionable Advertisements.—Regular supplies are forwarded weekly to the Agents.

0.246.-VOL. V.

Natural History.

LETTERS

IN THE REVOLUTIONS OF THE GLOBE.

BY M. ALEX B

TUESDAY, MARCH 15, 1825.

PRICE 3d

the time when the chalky formation was at the surface of although very considerable when compared with the ordi-
the soil, were the most elevated points, are not so now; nary period of our existence, form merely a point in the
and the inequalities of the ancient soil have no corres-duration of the globe we inhabit.
pondence with those at present existing.

The chalk must have remained bare during a long period of time, since it is incontestably proved by the result

a legère couche de vie, qui fleurit à la surface du globe, ne of many observations, that it had time to grow solid beere que des ruines-Paris: printed, 1824.

malated expressly for the Kaleidoscope from a recent French work.

LETTER VIII. CONTINUATION OF THE MINERAL CRUST.

the chalk which forms the bottom of the gulf or basin bich are deposited the layers composing the land adat to Paris, is a formation much more ancient and ortant than was for a long time supposed; it is found any different places, and is every where covered by or five distinct formations, which are certainly posto it, and consequently prove it to be of very great uity. It must not, however, be placed in the rank se most ancient layers of the soil of deposition; there in fact, in several places (at Honfleur, for example) of this soil evidently anterior to the chalk, and conng fossil crocodiles. Now, as these crocodiles live in certain rivers and upon their shores, their presence ese lower layers proves evidently, that in the places they are found fresh waters and dry land must have eded the formation of the chalk.

his is not the case in the basin of which we are speak. the chalk of the neighbourhood of Paris is separated the primitive soil only by a single formation (comcalcareous earth) containing no fossils, and appears wwe succeeded it without any retreat of the waters, merely in consequence of a change in the nature of iquid.

fore it was again inundated by the sea, which formed
above it entirely different productions.

Whilst the chalky soil was uncovered, it became the
bed of collections of sweet waters, which left upon it their
precipitations. The matter of these formations is distin-
guished by the name of plastic clay, because it has the
property of easily receiving impressions, and of retaining
them a long time; it is unctious and tenacious, and is
used, according to its different qualities, to make china,
or coarse earthenware; crucibles and red crockery are also

made of it.

This layer, though very deep in some places, diminishes in others to the thickness of a few inches. This circumstance is easily accounted for by the inequality of the masses of water by which it was deposited.

No fossil body has yet been found in the lower layers of this clay: but the upper layers contain a large quantity of wood, the remains of plants, which, without doubt, grew upon our soil towards the end of the period of which we are speaking. In the upper layers of the same clay there are also found some marine bodies, which, when the sea returned, must have been mixed at the bottom of its waters with the productions of sweet water buried in the clay while it was still soft.

This first formation of sweet water, deposited above the soil of chalk, did not very perceptibly change its surface; but the sea, which inundated it during a very long period of time, left depositions of much greater importance in every respect; they form the soil known by the e species called belemnite is the characteristic fossil of name of coarse marine calcareous earth, and contain the t; that in our neighbourhood contains teeth of the stones used for the construction of our edifices. In geolous, a marine animal. In some other places, tortoises, gical works this soil is called coarse calcareous earth of the several reptiles of the order of saurus are found in environs of Paris. It consists of a succession of layers of All these, however, are animals living in the sea, so considerable thickness, containing numerous shells, of we cannot entertain the least doubt respecting the very remarkable appearance; they are all, in fact, like he origin of the chalky formation. those found in la Touraine, in so excellent a state of preter the retreat of the sea, which had deposited the servation, that their most delicate edges and sharpest points the aspect of the country round Paris was very dif- are often uninjured. They are found in an horizontal t, in every respect, from that which it now wears. situation, as if they had been purposely placed there, and gine, Madam, a vast extent of white chalk, not pre- several of them preserve their pearly lustre. Another ciring an even surface, but hollowed out in the form of a cumstance, not less important to be observed, is the vab, rugged at the bottom, and diversified by consider-riety of the species contained in the different layers: I do elevations, with smooth steep sides. These elevations not mean to say, that all the species deposited in each e not, like those which have replaced them, all of layer are entirely different from those of the layers in rly equal height, but differed widely from each other which it is inclosed; but that a species very common in his respect. Most of them were, in fact, very low, one layer, becomes less so in that immediately above it, 1st others, like the hills of Meudon and Calvaire, were whilst in the latter there are found some individuals of a h enough to remain constantly above the level of the new species. The next layer contains a greater quantity that have since invaded our country. The former, of this new species: thus, the first species disappear by refore, are covered with the layers of soil deposited by degrees, and are replaced by others, so that it is easy to se seas, whilst the protuberances of the latter still ex- trace the variations occasioned in the animals living in the >it the chalk, in its primitive state, almost bare, and fluid, by the gradual change of its nature. A long space ning islands in the midst of the soil by which it is of time was, without doubt, requisite to produce these difrrounded. ferences; but Nature, in the accomplishment of her works, In general, those parts of the environs of Paris, which, at regards not the progress of time. A few thousand years,

As for me, the present order of things appears to me momentary, when I reflect that it has existed only fifty or sixty centuries at the most: twelve or fifteen times the number of years that an oak can live, or fifty or sixty times the length of life usually attained by men, would lead us beyond the period when the human race first appeared upon the globe. We are so young upon the earth, that we have not yet had time to become acquainted with the small portion of its surface ceded to us by the ocean. However mortifying this conviction of the novelty of our species may be to our vanity, it at least gives us reason to indulge hopes of a future state of perfection. We are yet too young to have learned wisdom; and our descendants will, perhaps, with justice, attribute to the ignorance and inexperience, inseparable from the infancy of the world, our foolish prejudices, our ridiculous institutions, our rage for destroying one another, and our fatal inclination to measures of violence, so contrary to the dictates of humanity and reason. But let us return to our shells.

In the last layers, their number gradually diminishes, and they at length entirely disappear. The first layers do not lie immediately above the plastic clay, but are separated from it by a layer of sand of various degrees of thickness. It has been remarked, that some quantity of sand is always placed between two different formations.

The gross shelly calcareous earth, extended over the plastic clay, corresponds, also, in the form of its surface, with the inequalities of the soil of chalk; but it renders them less abrupt, as it is somewhat more abundantly diffused in the valleys than upon the extremities of the elevations. We learn this from our observation of the cavities dug in our neighbourhood for the construction of wells, and for the working of quarries. We also perceive, by the same means, that the elevations of the soil of chalk do not, in general, penetrate the layers of gross calcareous earth, which are accumulated upon their declivities, and, in some places, are even thicker upon their summits than elsewhere.

The sea, after having inundated our country during a very long period of time, and deposited there, the important formation, of which I have just been speaking, retreated thence, and was succeeded by vast basins of fresh water, whose productions are very remarkable, because they contain the only remains of terrestrial mammalia that have yet been discovered. Tortoises, crocodiles, and other animals of the class of reptiles are, in fact, found in the chalk, and even in the layers under the chalk: the shelly calcareous earth incloses, in certain places, bones of the manati, and the phoca, which are marine mammalia: but the terrestrial mammalia are found only in the layers of soil deposited by fresh water, upon which we shall now make some observations.

The layers of this soil, found in the basin of Paris, are not extended over its whole surface; but they are deposited in detached portions. This is the necessary result of their mode of formation. They are divided into several kinds.

1. That, designated by the name of silicious calcareous earth, supplies the stones, commonly called millstones,

which are used for the purpose of grinding. It is the characteristic of this formation to contain no fossil; and this circumstance, for a long time, rendered its nature dubious.

2. The formation called gypsum is, as well as the silicious calcareous earth, placed above the gross calcareous earth. The soil containing it may be considered to consist of three masses, of which the most superficial, and, consesequently, that, last formed, is the most important. This mass is every where called by workmen the first, because it is that which they first meet in digging. It incloses many bones and sometimes whole skeletons of the paleoterium and the anoplatherium, which are the most an cient terrestrial quadrupeds of the globe, and now no longer in existence. They lived upon the shores of the waters by which this soil was deposited, and did not, without doubt, appear before the end of the period of its formation, since they are never found in the two lower masses. Their race must, however, have existed during a long time in our country; since some parts of the mass containing them are twenty metres in thickness.

3. Above the gypsum are placed banks of marl of two kinds. The beds of this marl contain, besides animal fossils, some trunks of palm-trees petrified in flint. This circumstance tends to prove, that, during the period, when the palæotherium lived upon our soil, the temperature was much more elevated than it is now.

[To be continued.]

church witnessed the singular spectacle of three Popes cil of Florence in 1442, to the appearance of Luther all reigning and exercising the pontifical functions at the nearly a century passed without any further attemp same time. Each declared his own election canonical, at the reform Mr. Butler would have us to suppo each stood firm in his own infallibility, and the dread the Catholic church was so eager for. The council sunwords of excommunication passed between the three and moned at Pisa in 1511, by Louis XII. was merely a pe the followers of each, with all the rapidity of a shuttle.litical inquiry to forward his success in the war he w To put an end to this monstrous exhibition, and to repress carrying on with Julius II., as that, on the other hand, the heresies of Wickliffe and Huss, a council was called, assembled in opposition, by Julius, in the Lateran, w by the interference of the Emperor Segismund, at Con- no more than a political counteraction to the one at Pas stance, and commenced its sessions in 1414. Now it can- -(Sismondi, 14, 137.) not be denied that the extinction of this schism in the During all this time no examination of importance, ne church was the primary and main cause of the assemblage, attempt to remedy ecclesiastical abuses was made. All the heresy of the Bohemians secondary, and the reform schism had ceased in the church; the Popes were elected of abuses little more than contingent. Accordingly, the without opposition, in the quiet, regular manner; and the attention of the prelates was directed, in like proportion, whole Roman ecclesiastical government appeared, as if by to these several objects. The schism was healed; John general consent, to run on with a smoothness and reguis Huss, in spite of the implied pledge of the Emperor and rity it had not enjoyed for a very long period. The re the assembly, and Jerome of Prague, his companion, forming spirit, which was partially aroused in the first were burnt alive; but as soon as they commenced the half of the fifteenth century, had sunk into a state of ininquiry into the abuses of the orthodox, the council was sensibility and indifference; and corruptions remained dismissed by the very Pope itself had elected, under the connived at or uncared for. Though the abuses and promise of a continuation at a more convenient season. general profligacy of the clergy increased rapidly towards This Martin contrived, by shuffling, to put off from time the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the siste to time, and it was not until a third attempt that a meet- century, no universal, and scarcely' an individual, call ing was assembled at Basil, in 1431. At first the council was made for a change. Almost all the talent of ly appeared in good earnest, and several wise regulations particularly the literary portion, was connected, by were made; but the successor of Martin soon becoming tie or other, with the Papal church, either as actual ene alarmed at these encroachments, called an opposition as-siastics or dependants of the higher prelates, or as drawing sembly at Ferrara, afterwards transferred to Florence, and a pecuniary support from some benefice, clerical office, tr excommunicated that of Basil. An anti-pope was elected fund. The abilities of all these charities were, of cum, by the latter council, and the whole church was again in enlisted against the least attack or innovation on the MR. BUTLER'S OBSERVATIONS ON THE REFORMATION. arms. Of course no further act of the ecclesiastics at of the Roman Pontiff. Divinity and theological sadis Basil was recognised by the Popes, and even their conduct were almost unattended to by those whose chief time, was so disapproved of by the Sovereigns of Europe, that cording to their profession, should have been dem the anti-pope they had created saw himself forced by pub. them. The sober, plodding ecclesiastic was the shat d lic opinion to resign.† From the suspension of the coun- ridicule, amongst the younger and more distinguished p lates; who, inoculated with the prevailing cla and taste for elegant literature, found more pleasure Ciceronian turning of a period, or the polishing a to a favourite mistress, than in poring over tomer fragable and angelic doctors, or examining the cance the church for the purpose of reform. Indeed, ha Luther appeared, it is extremely doubtful whether form would ever have been attempted; for, the p who could view the fifteen or twenty years before the breaking out of the Reformation, without any universal d might easily have permitted any subsequent enormaya pass unnoticed. A reform, however, did at last take plat forced upon the Catholics by the Protestants, as clea one event can be said to produce another. But with reluctance, what shrinking, was it brought about! T the clergy at Constance had decreed that general co for the welfare of the church, should be held every years, they were not held; though Julius, on his tion (not to mention other instances) had taken

Literature, Criticism, &c

(Concluded from our last.J

TO THE EDITOR.

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SIR, Mr. Butler again endeavours to show there was no It is, perhaps, not very wise to moot this contested point ground for the Reformation, on the plea of the unwil-in a note; I cannot, however, refrain from saying a word or lingness of the Popes and the Catholics in general, to ad- two respecting it. The Catholics acknowledge a safe-conduct mit of any reform in the church. Several pages are em- was given to Huss, by the Emperor, to and from the council; ployed in proving, that from the remotest times there had but, says the supporter of the reservation system, his safety was not ensured while at the council; others, less jesuitical been frequent acknowledgments and calls for the corand fairer reasoners, contend it was understood that Huss, rection of abuses, and that during the fifteenth century if he did not clear himself of the charge of heresy, was to abide several councils were assembled by the Popes and the Ca- by the decision of the assembly; and that this meaning was tholic clergy, for the purpose of putting a check to the comprised in the clause of the safe-conduct, salvá justitiâ, enormities which, Mr. Butler freely confesses, pervaded saving justice. I think, however, a much greater degree of protection was intended than the Catholics allow; for, first, the establishment. It would have been not only a mournit is evident, that had Huss proved himself a true son of the ful, but a surprising occurrence, if, through so many cen-church, and been acquitted, there would have been no need turies, there had not been some who remained unspotted of a passport back from the council: he would have been reand free from infection amidst the general contagion, or ceived with rejoicings, and protected by every one. This who had not the courage and the piety to raise their voices part of the pledge, in such a case nugatory, implied thus, that his return would be equally attended with danger, which against the glaring corruptions, and insist loudly on a could only happen in case he still retained his heretic opiremedy. Amongst the worst of religious, and the most nions; and that such return was contemplated by him: for faulty people, it is to be hoped there is always some small which a pledge of protection was given. It appears, secondly, "remnant" existing, animated with a love of virtue, and that a general opinion prevailed, that the pledge had been broken, in some manner or other, for the council, to allay a detestation of vice. It is only to be regretted, that in these rumours, formed an express decree, that though a oath, under pain of perjury and anathema, to hold Sovereign shall have promised and given, during a certain period, security for full protection, whatever may occur, still his pledge shall not interfere with the rights and judgment of the church, if the accused individuals are convicted of heresy "the person who shall have promised them security shall not, in this case, be obliged to keep his promise, by whatever tie he may be engaged." Such a doctrine could only have been asserted by those who had some breach of faith to excuse. It is next said the council was not guilty of his execution, but left his sentence to be determined by the civil power. These are mere words. It makes but little difference, whether an ecclesiastic actually lighted the pile, or caused it to be lit. The main offence of Huss was a religious one, viz. heresy: the laws against which proceeded from the Church, and the manner of death was that inflicted on heretics. The least motion of the council would have saved his life, and it is absurd to suppose the civil power at that time was not entirely submissive to its will. This note is already too long; I will only add, whoever is desirous of seeing how the energy of the mind can bear up under the most horrid bodily sufferings, may turn to a most interesting account of the death of Jerome of Prague, by Poggio Bracciolini, who was present at the execution, in Shepherd's Life of that celebrated Scholar. †The celebrated Aneas Sylvius Piccolomini had written

the purest of worships there were not more, who, posses. sing the will, possessed the power, to put their laudable intentions into execution. Reform and amelioration, in all matters of religions as well as civil polity, are effected by a majority; and so long as abuses exist in a religion which ought never to swerve, through any worldly motive, from its one and only aim, the present virtue and future happiness of man, so long is it a proof they are per. mitted and countenanced by the greater part of the people who profess that religion. Now, until the corrections of the Council of Trent, forced upon it by the reformers, the Catholic religion was but very little amended by all their individual efforts, however commendable, or by all the exertions of the antecedent councils of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, however highly their labours and designs are extolled by the learned gentleman. As he has laid so much stress on the motives for summoning, and the exertions exhibited in these meetings, it will perhaps be as well to examine if his praises are correctly bestowed. At the beginning of the fifteenth century the Roman

:

cil at the end of two years, he had not hesitated
his oath. The Reformation then arose. The d
which the Catholic church was threatened was
strongly in favour of the proceedings of the Basi asal
On being chosen to the papacy in 1458, under the t
Pius II., he issued a brief, declaring his intention of
St. Paul and St. Augustine in their repentance, and expre
the sorrow he felt at his former conduct, in persecti
church of God. He moreover declared, that all be ha
ten in his character of Aneas Sylvius was the products
damnable heretic; but, as Pius II., he was an orthodox fa
*Erasmus, in one of his witty tracts, entitled "Cicy &
has justly satirized these tasteless imitators of the B
orator. The Cardinal Bembo has been frequently repre
for his reprehensible servility in this particular. In
the sacred name of God, he generally uses the classic e
sion, dii immortales-excommunication is, aqua qu
dictio-the Virgin, diva-and so on. His Italian son
take in the same way of the conceits and verbal expres
of Petrarch, without his beauty or feeling. Indeed, Be
an excellent sample of the polite ecclesiastic of the das
talents, unquestionably, were great, but not always as
became a dignitary of the church and religion.

And here we must return to the other half of the tra

vellers, who, after the hasty council of war, replunged through the river with the view of returning to the village of Bowness. The guide was amongst them, but what with the ringing of bells, the blowing of horns, and the shouts of distress that were every where raised, he became, it is said, as deaf as a post and the most bewildered man of the whole. Different routes were tried and abandoned, and so little was known of their real situation that some of them followed as closely the course of the stream as if they had been anxious to meet, rather than flee from the coming tide. But the church bell at last proved a sort of beacon, and after different persons had ventured with lights to the rivers' edge, the whole party were attracted to the spot, and conveyed to a comfortable home for the night.In this way no accident occurred, but the chances were ten to one against them, and we have been rather particular with the above narration, in the hope that it may prove a serious warning. No man who has read the spirited sketch given in "Redgauntlet" requires to be informed of the danger of the Solway, and one thing we would strongly recommend-and that is, that every guide should be furnished with a pocket compass by day, and both a compass and lantern by night. The articles in question are easily carried, and it is painful to reflect that many brave men selves or others of one cardinal point of the compass.— should have perished from the wilful ignorance of themDumfries Courier.

y body; and the Emperor Charles V. urged on the rous-and though again and again, travellers have perish- ed all the danger was one of the densest ever known, and gy the necessity of a change. At length, in 1537, ed amidst the waste of waters, which in certain states of we should here mention the meritorious conduct of Mr. the moon and especially when moved by a south-west Lewis Bell, residing near Dornock, and two other farmers, nty years after Luther's first opposition at Wittenberg, wind, rush up with tremendous violence still such is the whose names we have not yet heard. By crossing a few assembly was convoked at Mantua; but, "by the sug- disinclination to ride 31 miles round by the bridge at minutes earlier, these individuals had weathered the mist, tion of the Prince of Darkness" (some difficulties con- Carlisle, that the passage from Bowness to Whinnyrigg, but on hearing repeated cries of distress, they very huted with the rights of the church arising) the council will always remain the favourite communication between mancly retraced their steps, and joined the wanderers on At the Scotch side much about the same time as Mr. Brough. =put off, and nothing further was done, except a few the time the party started, the night was perfectly calm But, in place of guiding, they required to be guided, and many parts of Cumberland and the Scottish coast. rtive attempts at a convocation, till eight years after- and clear, and though the moon was down, the stars actually shared all the perils of those to whose assistance ds, when the celebrated Council of Trent commenced its shone out so cheerily, that they anticipated both a safe they had so promptly hastened. ngs. The plague appearing the next year but one, it and a speedy passage. In fact, a thought of danger never seized upon by the Pope as a pretext for transferring crossed their minds, until they had proceeded nearly a mile on their way, and were about to ford the united virtually dissolving the council. It was, however, rewaters of the Esk and Eden. And here a thick mist menced in 1551, suspended anew in 1552, and re-obscured the sky, and gradually became so dense and ned so until its re-opening, in 1562, during all which opaque that they literally knew not which way they were , says a Catholic writer, nothing was thought of the moving, and could scarcely see a yard before them. On cil. It finally finished its important labours in 1563. getting through the water, the party halted as it were instinctively, and held a hasty council of war; but their w, from the commencement of the fifteenth century, opinions were various and jarring in the extreme. While e close of the Council of Trent, is there not, appa- some were for putting to the right about, others were for iy, throughout, a wish to keep off, as long as possible, pushing straight forward; but these words had lost their y examination or inquiry; to screen the abuses of the meaning, as no one could tell how the direct path lay, whether he was bound for England or Scotland. Amidst rch, at every hazard, and under the slightest pretexts; their bewilderment, many would not believe that they had extreme sensibility at every innovation; a want of good crossed the Esk, and plunged and replunged into the bed 1; and a high degree of intrigue? all of which of the river, some going up, others down, and describing st that nothing but the greatest and most absolute ne- over and over again, the same narrow circle of ground. ty would have effected what at last was done. It is of In this emergency, Mr. Thomas Johnston, Thornywaite, and Mr. Hetherington, Lochmaben, kept closely together, ise to say the blame should only be laid on some un- and by recollecting that the water runs from east to west, thy Prelates and reprehensible Popes, and not on the and observing how the foam fell from their horses' feet, holic church; for the power of effecting good, or of its they rightly conceived how the shore lay, and moved on ig effected, must have rested somewhere. If it was in in the direction of Annan. But this clue was soon lost, power of a Pope, and a few unprincipled ecclesiastics, and after wandering about for nearly an hour, they apwithstand the remaining virtuous body of the church, little interval they paused to listen to the incessant cries, peared to be just as far from their object as ever. At every ly shows, more forcibly, the falling off of the system of distress and encouragement, that reached the car in all 1 the spirit of pure Christianity, the necessity of Luther's directions-from England, Scotland, the middle of the , and of a total separation. If it was not, it clearly Frith-from every point, in short, of the compass. But es the larger part of the laity and clergy, and, conse- all was confusion worse confounded;" and where there was no system whatever in the signals, the stoutest callers atly "the church," were adverse to, or at least ex-only seemed to be mocked by the mournful echoings of ely negligent in, the reformation of abuses. their own voices. Amidst this confusion, horns were s the remaining observations of Mr. Butler are not so sounded from the Bowness side, and anon the solemn ly connected with the subject of the Reformation as peals of a church bell added not a little to the interest of a receding ones, but appear more personally addressed to scene which, abstracting from its danger, was truly imSouthey, I will conclude my remarks on this portion narrowing the dry land, and should it come roaring up pressive, if not sublime. The rising tide was gradually is work with the hope that something may have been two feet abreast before they escaped from their present successfully, in reply to his accusations, and with an perils, where was the power on earth that could save them? est desire that Mr. Butler, as well as other Catholics, These, of course, were painful reflections, and the two inld bear in mind that it is not the characters or actions dividuals named above, after pushing on quite at random, he reformers, or their doctrines and opinions, which the joyful cry was raised that they had found a guide in fortunately rejoined nine of their companions. And now Protestants exclusively admire, but the PRINCIPLE the person of Mr. Brough, of Whinnyrigg, who hearing e REFORMATION, the liberty of exercising the reason their cries, and knowing their danger, had even at the Creator has given us. We all would say, in the words risk of his own life, traversed the sands in the hope of berehbishop Laud, "If there have been any wilful and ing useful. But greatly as they rejoiced at his presence the danger was not yet over. In a little time even the ges errors, not so much in opinion as fact, that is the nerous guide got bewildered, and literally knew not which e of the reformers, not of the Reformation; and they hand to turn to. Still his advice was that the tide was coming-that they had not a moment to lose that every ong since gone to God to answer it." thing depended on decision and speed. mounted and groped about until he came to some object off at full speed to some other point, and by reckoning the or spot of ground he fancied he knew, and then galloped time it required to get thither, and repeating the experifellow-creatures from the imminent danger in which they ment eight or ten times, he succeeded in rescuing fourteen were placed. Too much praise, in fact, cannot be given to this individual, to whom, as Thos. Johnston justly observed, the party, under God, owed their deliverance. A friend indeed reports, that when wholly at a loss what to do, he accidently stumbled over the trunk of a tree, which some former flood had left indented in the sand, and that, by accurately examining the position of an object he had frequently seen in day-light, he knew at once the bearings of the coast, and thus facilitated the almost miraculous es. cape of the party. But be this as it may, his presence was of the greatest possible use; his local knowledge inspired a confidence that was previously wanting; and, as the event proved, every thing depended on the decision and speed he so strictly enjoined. Though, under ordinary circumstances, twenty minutes may suffice to trot across the sands, nearly three hours had been consumed in zigzagging to and fro; and within a quarter of an hour or less from the time the party touched the beach, the tide ascended with a degree of force which must soon have proved fatal to the boldest rider, the stoutest horse which the treacherous Solway ever ensnared. The fog that occasion

Yours, &c.

LIBRA.

After all the exertions of the Council of Trent, one of the t, if not the most, important points in the Catholic reli

was overlooked, and that designedly-the power of the

s. Had its extent been clearly defined, it would have

of more service to the Catholic cause amongst Protesa, than half the other deerees of the assembly. But the

neil dared not enter upon the question; the legates of the se declaring, that for no cause whatsoever should the hority of the Pope be discussed.(F. Paul. Barrow.) Until s point shall be clearly settled by some general council, it

1 always remain a matter of contention of individual opi

n; and the power of the Pope will increase or diminish, ording as the voices for his high or low prerogatives prevail.

Miscellanies.

PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.

On Monday week, the 21st ultimo, upwards of thirty ell-mounted Scotsmen, mostly natives of this county, ho were returning from the horse fair at Wigton, met at owness, procured a guide, and at nine o'clock at night, ft the latter place with the view of crossing to the Scottish de of the Solway. Though few friths are more treache

At times he dis

Early Rising.-There is no time spent so stupidly as that which inconsiderate people pass in a morning between sleeping and waking. He who is awake, may be at work or at play; he who is asleep, is receiving the refreshment necessary to fit him for action; but the hours spent in dozing and slumbering are wasted, without either pleasure or profit. The sooner you leave your bed the seldomer you will be confined to it. What is to be said for the folly of not going out to an evening party, in your visiting-book the name of one good mother, whom until you ought to be going into your bed? Have you you have not heard heartily lament the late hours of the fashionable world as the principal cause of the predominance of the lily in the complexion of her children? Do night conversation cannot be any thing more than the mere menbering after eleven o'clock at night? I dont. Midyou recollect to have ever learned any thing worth recaput mortuum, and the vapid draining of brains collapsed by the continued cogitations of the fourteen or fifteen preceding hours! or the irrational effervesence of the hot and rebellious liquors" which have been taken to revive their Jagging spirits. like the works of a watch, after a certain time wants The machinery of man, till a gentleman is wound up by food and rest, he cannot winding up, or it will go down-when this time comes, talk any better than his watch can tick till that is wound up again.—Dr. Kitchiner.

law officer at Versailles, while talking in the presence of The silent Woman.-Madame Regnier, the wife of a of place though not very important. Her husband repria numerous party, dropped some remarks which were out manded her before the whole company, saying, "Silence, Madam, you are a fool!"-She lived twenty or thirty years afterwards, and never uttered a single word, even to her children! A pretended theft was committed in her presence, in the hope of taking her by surprise, but without effect, and nothing could induce her to speak. When her consent was requisite for the marriage of any of her children, she bowed her head and signed the contract.-Madame Campan's Journal.

Judicial Joke.-It is said that the late Chief Baron Thompson was a very facetious companion over the bottle, which he much enjoyed. At one of the Judge's dinners during the Assizes, there was present a certain Dignitary of the Church. When the cloth was removed, "I always think," said the very Reverend guest, “I always think, my Lord, that a certain quantity of wine does a man no harm after a good dinner!""Oh no, Sir!-by no means,"-replied the Chief Baron,-"it is the uncertain quantity that does all the mischief!"-Note to The Bar, a Poem.

Poetry.

TO THE GENIUS OF POETRY.

Beautiful spirit! a bright halo flinging,
And like, a seraph, airs of heaven aye singing
In cheerless wilds, where still, by fate's decree,
Deprived of every solace, saving thee,

Too oft thy votaries dwell: Life-giving Poesy!
In lightsome hour companion soft and bland,
Revelling at will in bowers of fairy land,
And weaving many a garland, rich and rare,
Wherewith to bind thy flower-wreathed altar fair:
Soul-breathing Poetry! an idol thou,

Ere Care has stamp'd her impress on the brow,
And silver'd o'er the raven locks of youth
With premature decay, the gift of ruth!—
Immortal essence of immortal mind,

In joy delighting; but when roars the wind,
And the tired mourner, on the billows tost,
Weeps by the grave of hopes too fondly nurst,
And, yielding to the influence of despair,

Rends from her brow the rose that lingered there!

Sweet soother of the madly-yelling storm,

'Tis then, indeed, thou com'st in angel form; Speed'st on seraphic pinion from above,

And visits earth,-a minister of love.

Yes! in affliction's wild and stormy hour,

When the wing'd lightning scathes the summer bower,
When kindred coldness, like a poisoned dart,
Pours its dark venom through the wasted heart;
When traitor Love his visor throws aside,

And thorns upspring where grew the garden's pride;
When Friendship with her ignis-fatuus light,

Fades like that exhalation of the night!

When Misery her midnight banner rears,

And Penury her flinty couch prepares;

When frowns the world where erst its witching smile
Did, syren like, the trusting heart beguile;
Then, Poetry, dear Maid! the power is thine
To scatter radiance from thy starry shrine;
Whisper of hope amid surrounding strife,
And win the drooping sorrower back to life!
Yes! angel comforter, celestial friend!
With Time's realities thy dreamings blend;
Still thy own myrtle round the cypress twine,
And bear to far-off regions all divine!
Still, fate defying, seize the sounding lyre,
And sweep it with a master-hand of fire;
Still cheer the heart that joys in thee alone,
And bends a suppliant at thy hallowed throne!
Still wreathe with flowers of hope that never die
The gloomy chambers of mortality;

And thine, but thine! how blest the meanest shed
That ever rose o'er hapless Poet's head!
Liverpool.

FRIEND GErard,

POETICAL EPISTLE.

Your letter griev'd me, yet it gave me pleasure,

G.

This may seem strange, though not more strange than true; How could I but be griev'd beyond all measure,

To find your prospects had not chang'd their hue?
How could I but be pleas'd with such a treasure,
As is to me a kind reply from you?
Yet, on the whole, excuse me if I say it,
Whate'er the pleasure, sorrow doth outweigh it.

For, where's the man, so destitute of heart,

Can look upon misfortunes like your own, Without, at least, a wish he could impart

Some healing balm, to sooth a brother's moan; Yet Chatterton, the dearest child of art,

Was doom'd in penury and want to groan:
Shame on thee, Bristol! that unmov'd could see,
A son, and such a son, in misery.

What! of the thousands wrung from blood of man,
Not one poor sous* a fellow man to save
From ills, that, choking up life's little span,
Soon laid their victim in an early grave?
But his proud spirit was not of your clan,

He never was, he never would be slave;
He could not crouch and truckle to the great,
He would not lie a beggar at their gate.
He'd perish first: and oh! sad truth to tell,
He did so perish. Not a friend was near,
The parting anguish of his soul to quell,
Or o'er his death-couch shed one friendly tear.
Ill-fated boy!-poor outcast, fare thee well!
And though no trophy decks thy lowly bier,
Thou hast a nobler than can art invent;
Thy name-thy best, thy proudest monument.
But thou hast one memorial, and of stone,
E'en in the place that did deny thee bread;
Nay, good Bristolians, but 'twas cheaply done,
For one so dear. What better can be said?
Look on yon venerable pile, where oft, alone,

The youthful bard would commune with the dead, And in deft strains of "auntiente mynstrelsie" Awake the memory of days gone by.

"Look in his gloomed face, his sprighte there scanne;
How woe-begone, howe wither'd, for wynde, deade!
Haste to thie church-glebe-house, asshreived manne!
Haste to thie kiste, thie onlie dortoure bedde
Cale as the daie whiche will gre on thie hedde
Is charitie and love aminge highe elves;

Knightis and barons live for pleasure and themselves.”
Yon sacred fane, which he would oft explore,
As if to shame the niggards of his race,
Now he is gone, uprears its head no more,

But stands as 'twere chief mourner of the place,
And vain the attempts its beauty to restore;
For, to perpetuate the sire's disgrace,
The son's renown, forth burst the awful flame,
And heaven's own altar rises to his name.

I would, friend Gerard, thou hadst been with me,
When first I visited that sacred spot;
None would delight more feelingly than thee,
In scenes connected with his hapless lot:
The very chests may there be seen, whence he
Drew the materials of his wondrous plot.

I marvel that ere this they were not sold;
A proof they're deemed here worth but little gold.
Of all the evils that afflict mankind,

Or what mankind are pleas'd to think are evils,
Though whether for our good or ill design'd,
Is quite above our comprehension's levels,
There's nothing half so irksome to my mind
As those same mortal plagues, they call blue devils.
I say, they may be sent us for our good;
Though this I cannot say-I wish I could.

But let philosophers this knot unravel,

Or not, I care not, it is nought to me;
My path of life I've often known 'em grave,
And I but speak of what I hear or see;
And when I had 'em, I resolved to travel,
As thinking that a remedy might be;
And so I found it, as you too will find,
So my example please to bear in mind.

Some folks are wittiest when they least intend it,

To wit, Dean Swift's friend, when he praised his horse For carrying such a head, and, then, to mend it, Said 'twas aforehand that he meant, of course:

A case as pat befel me, and I penn'd it;

Two sawyers quarrell'd till they grew quite hoarse; At last quoth he above to him below—

"You are a cut above your business, Joe."

You are, I think, a connoisseur in beer,

And love the subject "warm" your powers t'exert on; You are to know, as Walton says, that, here,

The first is best, though bad, and very dear;

They sell three several sorts-Beer, Ale, and Burton.

The Ale in strength will surely never hurt one; He who takes Ale for Beer, a fool is thought,

Since Beer is sixpence-Ale is but a groat.

Poor sous. This is incorrect: they gave him a DENI-er.

I thought, as very likely you may think,
That Burton meant what doth its name imply;
Namely, true Burton Ale, the best of drink,
And that which Burton only can supply;
Whereas 'tis no more like the thing than ink,
As you'll admit if the receipt you'll try:
Take then a pint of Beer, one ditto Ale,
Now you've a quart of Burton At for sale.
That's Bristol Burton, how do ye like it, eh?
Just ask my brother, and he'll tell you more;
For when we took to Pill a walk that day,
We likewise took the mixture as before
Related; and they called it as I say,

And for each pot they added 5 to th' score,
Meaning that 5d. was the price per pot,
Which strikes me, strikes an average, does it not?
You'll be so good as pardon all digression;

My letter but a hodge-podge I must call, But if a bard can't use his own discretion He'll make but sorry work out after all. For me, I scruple not to make confession, I'll follow Byron, let what will befal, Though at a distance so immensely great, You'll think that vanity has turn'd my pate. Byron, the soul of poetry, is dead

The mighty master-spirit of the age;
How mourn'd the nations when that spirit filed!
One common theme of grief all hearts engage.
Achaians weep! for he, your heart and head,
No more the battle of the just shall wage.
May his example long inspire the free
To fight the glorious fight of liberty.
You told me that the song I sent to you,
To the Kaleidoscope had found its way.

I do not say your story is not true,
Or mean to give the lie; I only say
It never yet has come within my view;
And I read regularly every K-

It must have been into the Mercury,
Not the Kaleidoscope you cast your eye.
Bristol, Sept. 8. 1824.

P. S.-I've just receiv'd the last Kaleidoscope:
Pray, signify to Mr. Smith the same.

I would not be too sanguine; still I hope
The thing will take, when once it gets a name:
Not that we Bristol folk with you would cope;
We like to play a safe and cautious game;
For we have found, whether you have or not,
That threepence-halfpenny's sooner spent than got.

I need not say how great was my surprise,
To read my rigmaroles to you in print:
In truth, I scarcely could believe my eyes,
To see the paper, and would merely hint-

I dont object thereto, with this provis.
O, that you'd put your answer likewise in't.
So shall the world hear both sides of the story,
And bane and antidote be both before ye.

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