The Naturalist's Diary,

For OCTOBER, 1820.

(Continued from our former Numbers.)

Among the flowers which are still usually in blow in this month, is the holy-oak, Michaelmas daisy, stocks, nasturtian, marigold, mignionette, lavender, wall-flower, red bips, China rose, Virginia stock, heart's ease, laurustinus, rocket, St. John's wort, periwinkle, &c. But chiefly the dahlia, a flower not much in cultivation till of late years, exhibits its majestic and brilliant splendour of stars above its dark green stalks and leaves. The hedges are now ornamented with the wreaths and festoons of the scarlet berries of the black briony; and now and then, that last "pale promise of the waning year," the wild rose, meets the eye.

above water, are generally very deep, and, con- and after remaining, perhaps, some ages, has again sequently, the waves roll against the land with retired of its own accord, or been driven back by great weight and irregularity. This rising of the the industry of man. The country round the Isle waves against the shore is called the surf of the of Ely, in the time of Bede, about ten centuries sea, and, in shipwrecks, is generally fatal to such as ago, was one of the most delightful spots in the attempt to swim on shore. In this case, no dex-kingdom. It was not only richly cultivated, and terity in the swimmer, no float he can use, neither produced all the necessaries of life, but grapes also, swimming girdle nor cork jacket, will save him: the that afforded excellent wine. The accounts of that weight of the superincumbent waves breaks upon time are copious in the description of verdure and him at once, and crushes him with certain ruin. fertility; its rich pastures, covered with flowers and Some few of the natives, however, have the art of herbage; its beautiful shades and wholesome air. swimming, and of navigating their little boats near But the sea, breaking in, overwhelmed the whole those shores, where an European is sure of imme- country, and totally destroyed one of the most ferdiate destruction. tile valleys in the world. Its air, from being dry In places where the force of the sea is less violent, and healthful, from that time became very unwhole or its tides less rapid, the shores are generally seen some; and the small part of the country, that, from to descend with a more gradually declivity. Over being higher than the rest, escaped the deluge, a these, the waters of the tide steal by almost imper- soon rendered uninhabitable, from its noxious va ceptible degrees, covering them for a large extent, pours. This country continued thus under water and leaving them bare on its recess. Upon these for some centuries; till the sea, at last, by the same The principal harvest of apples is about the be-shores, as we have observed, the sea seldom beats caprice which had prompted its invasion, began to ginning of this month; and the counties of Here- with any great violence, as a large wave has not abandon it, and bas continued, for some ages, to refordshire, Worcestershire, Somersetshire, and Devon-depth sufficient to float it onward; so that here are linquish its former conquests. Of inundations of shire, are busily employed in the making of cider to be seen gentle surges only, making calmly toward the like kind, concerning which history has been and perry. Herefordshire is particularly famous as land, and lessening as they approach. As the sea, silent, we have numberless testimonies of soother a cider country. October is the great month for in the former description, is generally seen to pre-nature, that prove it beyond the possibility of doubt. brewing beer, whence the name applied to very strong sent prospects of tumult and uproar, here it more we allude to those numerous trees, that are found beer of Old October. In this month also is the usually exhibits a scene of repose and tranquil buried at considerable depths, in places which the great potato harvest. The corn harvest being over, beauty. Its waters, which, when surveyed from sea, or rivers, have accidentally overflowed. the stone-pickers go out again. the precipice, afforded a muddy greenish bue, arisThe sowing of wheat is generally completed in this ing from their depth and position to the eye, when month: when the weather is too wet for this occupa-beheld from a shelving shore, are the colour of the tion, the farmer ploughs up the stubble fields for sky, and seem rising to meet it. The deafening winter fallows. Acorns are sown at this season, and noise of the deep sea is here converted into gentle the planting of forest and fruit trees takes place. murmurs; and, instead of the water dashing against the face of the rock, it advances and recedes, still going forward, but with just force enough to push its weeds and shells by insensible approaches to the shore.

REFLECTIONS ON THE SEA.

The revolutions produced upon the earth by the sea, form an interesting object of contemplation. It is every day making considerable alterations, either by overflowing its shores in one place, or deserting them in others; by covering over whole tracts of country, that were cultivated and peopled at one time; or by leaving its bed to be appropriated to the purposes of vegetation, and to supply a new theatre for human industry, at another.

In this struggle for dominion between the eartb and the sea, the greatest number of our shores seem to defy the whole rage of the waves, both by their height, and the rocky materials of which they are composed, which defend the land, and are only interrupted here and there, to give an egress to rivers, and to afford to our shipping the conveniences of bays and harbours. In general, it may be remarked, that wherever the sea is most furious, there the boldest shores, and of the most compact materials, are found to oppose it. There are many shores several hundred feet perpendicular, against which, the sea, when swollen with tides or storms, rises and beats with inconceivable fury,

There are other shores, which have been either raised by art to oppose the inroads of the sea, or, from its gaining ground, are menaced by immediate destruction. The sea being thus seen to give and take away lands at pleasure, is, without question, one of the most extraordinary considerations in natural history. In some places it is seen to obtain the superiority by slow and certain approaches; or to burst in at once, and overwhelm all things in undistinguished destruction: in other places it departs from its shores, and, where its waters have been known to rage, it leaves extensive fields covered with verdure.

The formation of new lands, by the sea continually bringing its sediment to one place, and hy the accumulation of its sands in another, is easily conceived. Many instances of this are recorded, which we have not room to recapitulate. One alone will suffice: the whole country of Holland seems to be a conquest from the sea, and to be rescued, in a manner from its bosom. The industry of man, however, in the formation of dikes, must here be mentioned; for the surface of the earth, in this country, is still below the level of the sea.

Hence, therefore, we may conceive how the violence of the sea, and the boldness of the shore, may be said to have made each other. When the sea meets no obstacles, it swells its waters with a gentle intumescence, till all its power is destroyed, But as the sea has been known to recede from by wanting depth to aid its motion. But when its some lands, so it has, by fatal experience, been progress is checked in the midst, by the prominence known to encroach upon others; and, probably, of rocks, or the abrupt elevation of the land, it these depredations on one shore may account for dashes with all the force of its depth against the its dereliction of another: for the current which obstacle, and forms, by its repeated violence, the rested upon some certain bank, having got an egress abruptness of the shore which confines the impetu-in some other place, no longer presses upon its forosity. Where the sea is extremely deep, or very much agitated by tempests, it is no small obstacle that can confine its rage; and for this reason we see the boldest shores projeted against the deepest waters; all smaller impediments having long before been surmounted and washed away. Perhaps, of the inundations of the sea, and of its burying whole all the shores in the world, there is not one so high provinces in its bosom. One of the most consideras that on the west of St. Kilda, which is 600 fa-able of these, is that which happened in the reign of thoms perpendicular above the surface of the sea. Henry I. which overflowed the estates of Earl GoodHeae, also, the sea is deep and stormy; so that it win, in Kent, and formed that celebrated bank, requires great force on the shore to oppose its vio-called the Goodwin Sands.

mer bed, but pours all its stream into the new en-
trance; so that every inundation of the sea may be
attended with a correspondent dereliction of another
shore.

However this be, we have numerous instances of

lence. In many parts of the world, and particularly There are some shores on which the sea has made in the East Indies, the shores, though not high temporary depredations; where it has overflowed,

But the influence which the sea has upon its shores is nothing to that which it has upon that great body of earth which forms its bottom. It is at the bottom of the sea that the greatest wonders are performed, and the most rapid changes produced. It is there that the motions of the tides and currents have their whole force, and agitate the substances of which their bed is composed. But these are almost wholly hidden from human curiosity: the miracles of the deep are performed in secret; and we have but little information from its abysses, except what we receive by inspection at very shallow depths, or by the pinm. met, or from divers, who are known to descend from twenty or thirty fathoms.

The eye can reach but a very short way into the depth of the sea, and that only when its surface is glassy and serene. In many seas, it perceives thing but a bright sandy plain at bottom, extending for several hundred miles, without an intervening object. But in others, particularly in the Red Sea, it is very different; the whole body of this extensive bed of water is, literally speaking, a forest of submarine plants, and corals formed by insects for ther habitation, sometimes branching out to a great es tent. Here are seen the madrepores, the sponges, mosses, sea-mushrooms, and other marine prod tions, covering every part of the bottom. The bed of many parts of the sea, near America, presents a very different though a very beautiful appearance this is covered with vegetables, which make it look as green as a meadow; and, beneath are seen thou. sands of turtles, and other sea-animals, feeding thereon.

With the following noble reflections on the sea, by
Lord Byron, we close this interesting subject.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep SEA, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

The remaining verses of this sublime apostrophe were inserted in our present volume, No 8, page 60.

Surrey, killed from his own double-barrelled gun, o Extraordinary Sport.-Mr. Spenstone, of Harley-hil' the 1st September 32 head of game, namely 11 brace of birds and 10 hares. He started from Blackwater at day-break, and shot until five o'clock to two brace of dogs.

3

fame

The Drama.

IR. KEAN AND MR. MACREADY'S
RICHARD THE THIRD.

scene, also, I think, though not without some little
doubt, that Mr. Macready has the mastery. His
portraiture of the various emotions of terror, re-
morse, and desperation, which mingle there, is more
vivid, and he gives to each a more distinct com-
plexion.

Indeed Mr.

air opportunity has now been afforded to these It would be an absurdity, however, to attempt to astrionic heroes, for the manifestation of their form a correct judgment of these two performances, firal powers. The arena for the contest has been by the opposition of isolated excellences. Except the same; "the appliances and means to boot," the the tent scene, there is hardly one individual part Yet I question whether, after all, they be fit where a doubt is admissable which has the vanobjects of comparison. So very distinct are their separate claims to the palm; as distinct, as genius age; either Mr. Kean or Mr. Macready has always the superiority, beyond compare. alose, unaided, fully confident of its own powers, is Macready seems scrupulously to avoid such a comfroma talent, invigorated by the moderation of exqui-petition; and, rejecting the prominent minutia site judgment, that each spectator will naturally which Mr. Kean delights in, he seeks out a wider give the preference to the one, or to the other, ac-range for his own thunders. For instance, the quescording to his peculiar bias in general matters of tion to Stanley, "well as you guess," which is so admirably fraught by Mr. Kean with such an intensity of meaning, Mr. Macready passes over in a mere colloquial style, and reserves his energy for the invectives and threats which follow: these he robes in a terrible majesty.

Taste.

I should lack candour, did I not, before I advance further, freely avow myself again, as I have already done in my notice of Virginius, to be a partizan of Mr. Macready; though, I trust, not one so bigoted as to be blind to the great merits of Mr. Kean.

Mr. Kean's

Estimating each of these representations as a
whole, I would say, that Mr. Kean's is a rapid suc-
cession of brilliant flashes, which shed a dazzling
glare on the intermediate barrenness; Mr. Mac.
ready's is as a flame burning more chastely, more
steadily, and expanding as it burns.
execution is perhaps as masterly as Mr. Macready's,
but I much prefer Mr. Macready's conception. My
reason for this preference is, because he infuses
somewhat of a Macbeth into that "bloody dog," for
whom we have hitherto been wont to feel as little
sympathy as for a Tyrrell.

119

lamb-like style in which Mr. D. personated the Lord
Mayor on Monday evening, the crimes of those two
gentlemen would have dwindled into insignificance. I
have always been of opinion that our comedians repre-
sented the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs of London in a
style of low vulgarity, quiteat variance with probability,
and not at all warranted by Shakespeare. Mr. D. on
this occasion, however, "out-heroed Herdod." He
slaked his tongue, rolled his eyes, and exhibited most
odious distortions of countenance. Is it possible he
I think he could not. He re-
could be sober?
ceived, certainly, a severe reprimand by a general hiss
Kean's performance of Richard the Third. He must,
from the respectable audience assembled to see Mr.
however, be told as others have been told, that such
practices are not to be quietly tolerated. If, by a pros-
titution of comic power, he cause some half dozen to
laugh, he should always be aware that he may lose
more both in pocket and in fame, if he cause some scores
of the more judicious to grieve.
Yours, truly,

The Philanthropist.

LOCO.

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.

Few subjects can possess more interest with the Philanthropist than those which we have so frequently brought to the notice of our readers under this head; and for which we refer them to the following pages in the two volumes of the Kaleidoscope, Vol. old series. Vol. I. pages 10, 17, 28, 48, 122. II. pages 26, 69, 80, 89,

A REMARKABLE CASE OF CONSPIRACY.

The character of Gloster must rank as one of the richest emanations from the mind of Shakspeare, f we only consider the variety of intonation exhibited, the coruscations of new light elicited, by each successive Roscius, in the adaptation of it to the compass of his own capabilities. I cannot, however, think it a less flagrant perversion of talent in Mr. Macready, to put on the hump of a Richard, than it was in Mr. Kean to affect the "lip and eyes" of a Coriolanus. For the personation of Richard, the very defects of Mr. Kean are subsidiary; but as to Mr. Macready, it is impossible to believe that he, We do not loath and detest Mr. Macready's with his form (malgré all stuffing), with his voice, Gloster, as a ruthless monster of unnatural cruelty. was born only "to snarl, and bite, and play the dog;" No; we even yield him some portion of our pity. We every swelling muscle of that form, every thrilling view him as once endowed with noble feelings; with A few years ago the Green of a rich Bleacher, in tone of that voice, proclaims a nobler purpose. Nor a sensibility too keen, a heart too proud to brook do we believe him, when he tells us that he "can the glance of the scorner on a form "curtailed of its the north of Ireland, had been constantly robbed at smile, and murder while he smiles:" there is no fair proportion." We pity him as one driven by the night to a very considerable amount, notwithstandfiend lurking in his smile; a loftier spirit is in him, scorn of man, an outcast from all the warm affec-ing the utmost vigilance, the utmost efforts of the which no control can disguise; it will burst forth tions which link man to man. We pity him as one proprietor and his servants to protect it, and without the slightest clue, even to a suspicion, who the from such an unworthy prison-house as the mis-driven by that scorn to retort hate for hate, to perrobber was. shapen trunk of the crook-backed Richard. petrate the most atrocious crimes, but not utterly Effectually and repeatedly baffled by the ingenuThe result is as we might readily anticipate, that, reckless the while he plunges his soul in eternal perin the scene where old King Harry is sent "DOWN dition, his memory in eternal shame. This new halo ity of the thief or thieves, the proprietor at length TO HELL" in the wooing of Lady Aun; and, in we may trace throughout, diffusing a degree of ten-published a proclamation, offering a reward of one short, throughout all the most arduous parts of the derness, which, blending with our admiration of his hundred pounds for the apprehension of any person three first acts, where the well dissembling of looks truly royal courage and deportment, takes such or persons detected robbing the green. avails most, Mr. Kean, by the aid of his Protean strong hold of our sympathies, that, in the inortal features, has the decided superiority. Not that Mr. combat, after the death blow is given, when his Macready's countenance is at all deficient in ex-whole body dilates, as though he was struggling to pression, but it accords better with the ebullitions of high sentiment, than the visible suppression of the hateful passions of a stern homicide.

Hence it is, that Mr. Macready only begins in the 4th Act, "to be himself again." But the glorious developement of his powers, in that and the last act, amply requites for their partial obscuration. From the moment that his brow is decked with the diadem, his heart seems to swell with the very soul of royalty; and, when that soul is roused by the trumpet of rebellion to take "fiery expedition as its wing," it sors transcendently.

Nothing can be more magnificent than the style in which he delivers the fine exhortation to his fol. lowers:

one

*Fight, Gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head; Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;" would fancy it must inspire their hearts with a Courage that cannot fail to bring down victory on their helms. It is strange that Mr. Kean should glide over this fine passage in the hurried mono- | famous way he does; to my car, there sounds much

artial music in it.

Amidst the tumult of the battle, from the whole aring both of Mr. Kean's and Mr. Macready's Richard we feel, he needs not tell us, that he hath this life upon a cast; but Mr. Macready makes s feel that it is the life of a sovereign.-In the tent

A few days after this proclamation, the master was at midnight roused from his bed, by the alarm of a faithful servant," there was somebody with a lantern crossing the green." The master started from his bed, flew to the window-it was so; he hurried on his clothes, armed himself with a pistol, the servant flew to his loaded musket, and they cautiously followed the light. The person with a lantern (a man) was, as they approached, on "tiptoe," distinctly seen stooping and groping on the ground; he was seen lifting and tumbling the linen. The servant fired-the robber fell. Exultingly and fearlessly now the man and master proceeded to examine the spot. The robber was dead-he was recognized to have been a youth of about 19, who resided a few fields off. The linen was cut across, hundles of it were tied up; and upon searching and examining SIR.-I am a play-goer, but no critic. I take great further, the servant in the presence of his master, pleasure in witnessing a good dramatic exhibition, and am free enough to state in common conversation what picked up a penknife, with the name of the unhappy pleases me, and with what I am displeased; and al-youth engraved upon the handle. The evidence was though I never entertain any idea of giving my private conclusive, for in the morning the lantern was acopinions to the public, yet there are vulgarities exhi- knowledged by the afflicted and implicated father of bited on our stage that call on every one to mark the boy to be his lantern. Defence was dumb. The faithful servant received the hundred pounds them with disapprobation, either at the theatre or by means of the press. Many persons have a strong dis-reward, and was, besides, promoted to be the coninclination to express any kind of disapprobation in a fidential" overseer" and "care-taker," of the estabtheatre; and to such your improved miscellany affords a ment. good medium of publicly condenining what is offensive in this way. Last week, Mr. B. and Mr. T. received a very severe, but, at the same time, a very just, censure. I was at the theatre on the two evenings alluded to by T. K.; and can bear witness to the justice of his remarks. But had your correspondent seen the low and

This faithful servant-this confidential "care

taker" this vigilant "overseer," was hanged shortly after at Dundalk, for the murder of that robber, alias that innocent, that unsuspecting, that luckless youth.

With matchless ingenuity, with matchless perfidy, did this villain contrive his case-did he prepare the circumstantial evidence of the guilt of that murdered youth-did he get up a robbery, did he contrive to furnish a robber.

It appeared, upon the clearest evidence, and by the | Your honours wants to see Any of my work, yule go dying confession and description of the wretch him- any day to Jameses Church-yard, yule see there a headself, that all this circumstantial evidence was precon- Stone leatly put over One Mr. hanks, with death on certed by himself, that all was a couspiracy, not only one side and time with his hour glass and sithe in the to escape from the imputation of all the former robberies, but to get the hundred pounds reward-that other, i did Death and tim did time.————and I defie he, this "faithful servant," was the perpetrator of aney man in dublin to doo them better. i ave as Nise all the former robberies. a Block of black stone, the same as Mr. Smith did them cherrips Heads with upon the outside of the castle chappel where I worked mysel and Tim for 3 months and where id be yet yet if it wasent that i was beelyd, bad lock attend them same that dun it to Mr. Johnstone but its no matter il be up to them yet, and as i think Tim and i could have dun it any How in a week say thirty shillings for myself and a Guinea for tim, thats 21. 12s. 9d. and say two more for the block (which is as cheap as bog-Water) that would make it in all 4. 18. 3. which is cheap enuff in all conshince, if your Honours approves of the proposial plase to send to me to No. 13, Patrik Clothes-(Patrick's close) 3 pare back, and if I and tim bees out, Mrs. Casee a very dacent woman that myself and tim diets with, will take any message for your honours humble servant to command.

The dupe, the victim, he chose for his diabolical purpose, was this youth; he was artless, affectionate, he was obliging.

This boy had a favourite knife, a penknife, with his name engraved upon its haudle. The first act of this fiend was to coax him to give him that knife as a keepsake. Unconscious of the bloody intention, he gave it to him.

On the evening of the fatal day appointed for this mercenary murder, this miscreant overseer prepared his bleach-green, the theatre of this melancholy tragedy, for his performance. He tore the linen from the pegs in some places, he cut it across in others; he turned it up in heaps; he tied it up in bundles, as if ready to be removed, and (deep laid and diabolical treachery) be placed this favourite knife, this keep,sake, in one of the cuts himself had made.

The stage being thus prepared, he invited the devoted youth to supper, and as the nights were dark, he expressly bid him to bring with him the lantern to fight him home. At supper, or after, with hellish art, this host turned the conversation upon the favourite knife, this keepsake, which he affected with great alarm to miss, and pretending that the last recollection he had of it, was using it on a particular spot of the bleach green, described that spot to the obliging boy, and begged of him to see if it was there. He lit the lautern, his father's lantern, which he had been desired to bring with him to light him home-to light him to his grave! and with alacrity proceeded upon his fatal errand.

As soon as this monster saw his victim was com. pletely in the snare, he made his alarm, and the horrible, the melancholy crime described was the result. Could there possibly be a stronger case of cireumstantial evidence than this? The young man seemed actually caught in the fact. There was the knife, with his name on it-the linen cut, tied up in bundles; the lantern acknowledged by his father. The time, past midnight. The master himself present, a man of the fairest character-the servant of unblemished character-all, all seemed quite conclusive.

THE FINE ARTS!!!

STATUARY EXTRAORDINARY.

"James Meary.

"N.B. If any other offers to do the Gob chaper mayby sumthing else mite be in your honours way. I would be glad to make a Head Stone or tom stone for any of your honours. direct as above."

WATER IS PUREST AT THE FOUNTAIN'S HEAD.
AN ANECDOTE.

and all the Lords of that family were Roman Catholics, At a time not very remote, when the Duke of Gordon, a Protestant, not unknown to his Grace, rented a small farm under him, near Huntley Castle, and, from whatever cause, had fallen behind in his payment. A vigilant steward, in the Duke's absence, seized the farmer's stock for arrears of rent, and advertised it by the parish crier to be roured, that is, sold by auction, on a fixed day. The Duke happily returned in the interval; his tenant, who knew his road, made the best of his way rupted, but forwarded in it by the servants, who cononward to the Duke's apartment, and he was not intercluded he came by appointment. "What is the matter, Donald?" said the Duke, as he saw him enter melancholy. Donald told his sorrowful tale in a concise, natural manner: it touched the Duke's heart, and produced an acquittance in form. Staring, as he chearily withdrew, at the pictures and images, he expressed a cuThese," said the Duke, with great condescension, riosity to know what they were, in his homely way. are the Saints who intercede with God for me." 13 66 'My bord Duke," said Donald, "would it not be better to apply yourself directly to God: I went to muckle Sawney Gordon, and to little Sawney Gordon; but if I had not come to your guid Grace's self, I could not have got my discharge, and baith I and my bairns had been harried."

66

The subjoined letter is a genuine copy of one pre-once got a painter to paint his own portrait, and that of Anecdote.-The celebrated German bard, Gleim, sented to the Committee appointed by the Dublin Li- his friend, the poet Jacobi. Happening to dine about

brary Society, for erecting a bust of the late Mr. Kir-
wan, the Naturalist, who had been President of the
Society:-
:-

"To the Committey appointed to see Mr. Kirwan's
" Bust dun by the Dublin liberary Society.

"Please your Honours,

"I see an advertisement in the freeman's journal airyesterday, as I get it every mornin and pays sixpence per week for the readin it, setting fourth that all statuaries should send in their proposials for dooing a bust of one Mr. Kirwan that died lately it seems, in this Now's there's near a man in Dublin that could doo it cheaper nor neather than myself, and Why, Bekase i ave a Boy That's almost out of his time, his name is one tim Slattery and can work nighhand as well as myself, to help me with it. and if

Town.

this time with the Dean of
a nobleman in the
company, who was the friend of both, said to Gleim,
"I hear you and Jacobi have had your portraits painted,
I suppose at full length.' No," replied Gleim,
"that is only for knights, that we may see their spurs ;
we have no occasion for this; for with us the head is the
chief thing."

To Correspondents.

GENERAL APPEAL. Our portfolio is so crowded with communications of various kinds, in prose and verse, original or selected, that it is very possible we may occasionally fail in making our due acknowledgments to some of our numerous correspondents. In the interval between this and our next publication, we intend to institute a minute search, for the purpose of detecting any oversight of our own: in the mean time, we beg to assure our friends, that it is our anxious wish, as. it is our obvious interest, to act with perfect impartiality.

DRAMATIC CRITIQUES. We have appropriated n
ther more space to the Drama in this day's public.
tion, than we wish to devote to one subject. The la
ter of T. Q. would not admit of the pruning k
without deterioration; and as we deem it a very good
specimen in its way, we have given it entire, merely
suggesting to the writer, that if he should favour us
with future strictures, he will endeavour to be some
what more brief. Whilst on the subject of the liver-
pool stage, we cannot restrain the expression of our
surprise, that whilst Kean, Macready, and others have
excited so much attention and applause, litor
thing should have been offered in commendation of
an actress of such undoubted talent as Mrs. M'Gibbon
Some of the characters allotted to that lady during
the engagements of the two actors just alluded t
have been sustained with a feeling, discrimination, and
effect very rarely excelled, and in some instances
scarcely to be equalled by any female on the Bri
stage.

PUNCTUATION.-Our correspondent T. Q. is entitled
to our thanks for the very distinct writing of the
amanuensis, whose pen he occasionally employs in
his communications. The favour of his correspon
dence would, however, be considerably enhance,
if he would take the trouble to revise the M.S
is extremely defective, in what we regard as cre of
the most indispensable requisites of a writer for the
press-we mean punctuation.

A THOUGHTFUL FELLOW next week.

The articles respecting which T. Q. enquires, have regu
larly arrived; and our impression was, that that re
ception had been intimated in our notice to custo
pondents; although they might not have been s
rately specified. If we mistake not, we have bests
these, more than one communication from the same
prolific quarter.

The verses of CORNELIUS were not overlooked; but it
would be tiresome and impertinent to the public, if
were perpetually explaining the motives by which se
The letter of J. T. of Manchester, if not objected
are influenced, in our choice of time and place for the
appearance of every correspondents' favour.
by the writer, shall be inserted in the Mercury
Friday. The critique is unexceptionable, but it
litates against our plan, to indulge in political al
sion. We stand pledged to the public to absta
from such topics.

M. G. if a reader of the Kaleidoscope, must know
that politics, in any shape, do not come within the
range of our work,

We refer R. D., AMICUS, and A. L. to who.

have urged above under the head of General Apology, and shall probably notice them more at length

in our next.

Printed, published, and sold
BY EGERTON SMITH AND CO.
Liverpool Mercury Office.

Evans, Chegwin and Hall, Castle-street; Mr. Thos
Smith, Paradise-street; Mr. Warbrick, Public
Library, Lime-street; Mr. G. P. Day, Newsman,
Dale-street; Mr. Lamb, Hanover-street; and Mr.
John Smith, St. James's-road, for ready money only.

which she was in the habit of letting out of its cage
Singular Interposition.-A lady had a tame bird.
every day. One morning as it was picking crumbs of Sold also by John Bywater and Co. Pool-lane; Messrs.
bread off the carpet, her cat, who always before showed
great kindness for the bird, seized it on a sudden, and
was much alarmed by the fate of her favourite, but on
jumped with it in her mouth upon the table. The lady
turning about, instantly discerned the cause. The door
had been left open, and a strange cat had just come into
from her place of safety, and dropped the bird without
the room! After turning it out, her own cat came down
doing it the smallest injury.

Messrs. J. K. Johnson & Co. No. 1, Eden Quay, Lower

AGENTS FOR DUBLIN:

Sackville-street.

No. 16.-NEW SERIES.

OR,

Literary and Scientific Mirror.

Literary Notices.

THE AUTHOR OF THE SCOTCH
NOVELS.

In the 10th number of the new series of the

any influence upon our minds, believing as | been excited in consequence of our remarks, we do, that an author is not always bound although we cannot at present justifiably to acknowledge his productions, or, ac- mention any other names, we feel no hesi cording to our great prose moralist and tation in gratifying the curiosity of our philosopher (Dr. Johnson), to withhold an readers by informing them, that Mrs. Scott, (Continued from our former numbers, pages 41, 57, 73.) absolute negative when he deems it neces-formerly Miss M'Culloch, the Lady of Thosary to use one. mas Scott, Esquire, Paymaster to the 70th "The fact is, these works were written Regiment, ut present in Canada, and brother by a near relative of Sir Walter Scott; to Sir Walter Scott, is the Writer of these they were severally sent to him by that Novels, and not Mr. Thomas Scott himself, relative in an unfinished state, for revision, as lately erroneously stated in the daily correction, and methodizing; nearly the Papers." whole of the poetry is his own composition, as well as many of the descriptions: through his agency the arrangement for disposing of the copyright, and the time and manner of publication, was made; and notwithstanding the continued mystery in which the whole affair is enveloped, it is firmly believed by the parties with whom he has been obliged to be immediately connected, that they are solely the productions of his own pen.

Kaleidoscope, page 73, we inserted a letter from a correspondent, in which these popular novels are ascribed to Sir Walter Scott's brother, who is paymaster to the 70th Regiment. This letter kas excited considerable attention, even in quarters of the kingdom where we did not know that even the name of our minor publication had ever been heard of. The writer of the article which we are about to transcribe, has transferred the honour attached to these immortal works from Captain Scott to his Lady; although, we must observe, that he does not support his assertion with so much plausibility as may be urged in favour of the opinion of our correspondent, to whose letter we beg to refer our readers, after they have perused the following article, copied from Gold and Northouse's London Magazine,

for October.-Edt. Kal.

“In the Memoirs of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. contained in our 8th number, we stated that we were in possession of facts which justified us in asserting, that the admirable Works of Imagination, under this title, were not from the pen of that distinguished writer. We then said :

"These facts were communicated by the réal author of the novels, to a Colonel in the Army, who is well known, and eminently respected for the gallantry of his services, the powers of his mind, and the extent and depth of his erudition; and we have no doubt that we shall obtain permission from him, previous to the publication of our next number, to set this question for ever at rest, by giving up the name of the real writer of those admirable works of fiction, as well as his own.'

The Gleaner.

"I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's' stuff." WOTTON.

THE SKETCH BOOK

OF

Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.

No. XXIII,

STRATFORD-ON-AVON.

(Concluded from our last.)

It was from wandering in early life among this rich scenery, and about the romantic solitudes of the adjoining park of Fulbroke, which then formed a part of the Lucy estate, that some of Shakspeare's commentators have supposed he derived his noble forest meditations of Jacques, and the enchanting wood"In hazarding this bold assertion, we land pictures in "As you like it." It is in know and feel the responsibility we have "The officer to whom we alluded, had then lonely wanderings through such scenes, voluntarily incurred. We know likewise, recently formed a matrimonial connection that the mind drinks deep but quiet that in stating it in this unqualified manner, with the family of a distinguished Nobleman, draughts of inspiration, and becomes intensely we shall not be justified by any argument and had left town a short time previous to sensible of the beauty and majesty of nadeduced from any fancied internal proof in the publication of the number we have re-ture. The imagination kindles into reverie the works themselves, or from any opinion ferred to; hence, we have been unable to and rapture; vague but exquisite images and we may have been induced to form from procure his permission to use his name, as ideas keep breaking upon it; and we revel mere circumstantial evidence. the authority on which we have made the statement.

Nor do we hold that the pertinacious and perpetual denial of Sir Walter himself ought to have

"However, from the interest which has

in a mute and almost incommunicable luxury of thought. It was in some such mood, and perhaps under one of those very trees before

me, which threw their broad shades over
the grassy banks and quivering waters of
the Avon, that the poet's fancy may have
sallied forth into that little song which
breathes the very soul of a rural voluptuary:
Under the green wood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry throat
Unto the sweet bird's note,

Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Here shall ye see

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

After prowling about for some time, I at park where Shakspeare and his comrades length found my way to a lateral portal, had killed the deer. The lands thus lost which was the every-day entrance to the had not been entirely regained by the famansion. I was courteously received by mily even at the present day. It is but a worthy old housekeeper, who, with the justice to this recreant dame to confess that civility and communicativeness of her or- she had a surpassingly fine hand and arm. der, showed me the interior of the house. The picture which most attracted my The greater part has undergone alterations, attention was a great painting over the fire. and been adapted to modern tastes and place, containing likenesses of a Sir Thomas modes of living: there is a fine old oaken Lucy and his family, who inhabited the hall staircase; and the great hall, that noble in the latter part of Shakspeare's life time. feature in an ancient manor-house, still I at first thought that it was the vindictive I had now come in sight of the house. It retains much of the appearance it must knight himself, but the housekeeper assured is a large building of brick, with stone have had in the days of Shakspeare. The me that it was his son; the only likeness quoins, and is in the gothic style of Queen ceiling is arched and lofty; and at one end extant of the former being an effigy upon Elizabeth's day, having been built in the is a gallery, in which stands an organ. his tomb, in the church of the neighbouring first year of her reign. The exterior re- The weapons and trophies of the chace, hamlet of Charlecot. The picture gives a mains very nearly in its original state, and which formerly adorned the hall of a coun- lively idea of the costume and manners of may be considered a fair specimen of the try gentleman, have made way for family the time. Sir Thomas, is dressed in ruff and residence of a wealthy country gentleman of portraits. There is a wide hospitable fire-doublet; white shoes with roses in them; those days. A great gateway opens from place, calculated for an ample old-fashioned and has a peaked yellow, or, as Master the park into a kind of court yard in front wood fire, formerly the rallying place of Slender would say, "a cane-coloured beard." of the house, ornamented with a grass plot, winter festivity. On the opposite side of His lady is seated on the opposite side of shrubs, and flower-beds. The gateway is the hall is the huge gothic bow-window, the picture in a wide ruff and long stomacher, in imitation of the ancient barbican; being with stone shafts, which looks out upon and the children have a most venerable a kind of out-post, and flanked by towers; the court-yard. Here are emblazoned in stiffness and formality of dress. Hounds though evidently for mere ornament, instead stained glass the armorial bearings of the and spaniels are mingled in the family of defence. The front of the house is com- Lucy family for many generations, some group; a hawk is seated on his perch in the pletely in the old style; with stone shafted being dated in 1558. I was delighted to foreground, and one of the children holds a casements, a great bow window of heavy observe in the quarterings the three white bow; all intimating the knight's skill in stone work, and a portal with armorial bear- luces by which the character of Sir Thomas hunting, hawking, and archery, so indis ings over it, carved in stone. At each was first identified with that of Justice pensable to an accomplished gentleman in corner of the building is an octagon tower, Shallow. They are mentioned in the first those days.* surmounted by a gilt ball and weathercock. scene of the Merry Wives of Windsor, The Avon, which winds through the park, where the Justice is in a rage with Falstaff, makes a bend just at the foot of a gently for having "beaten his men, killed his deer, sloping bank, which sweeps down from the and broken into his lodge." The poet had rear of the house. Large herds of deer no doubt the offences of himself and his were feeding or reposing upon its borders; comrades in mind at the time, and we may and swans were sailing majestically upon its suppose the family pride and vindictive bosom. As I contemplated the venerable old threats of the puissant Shallow to be a mansion, I called to mind Falstaff's enco- caricature of the pompous indignation of mium on Justice Shallow's abode, and the Sir Thomas. affected indifférence and real vanity of the latter :

"Falstaff. You have here a goodly dwelling and

rich.

a

Shallow. Barren, barren, barren: beggars all, beggars all, Sir John:-marry, good air."

"Shallow. Sir Hugh, persuade me not: I will make a Star-Chamber matter of it; if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, Esq. Slender. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace,

and coram.

Shallow. Ay, cousin Slender, and custalorum. Slender. Ay, and ratalorum too; and a gentleman born, master parson; who writes himself Armigero in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, Armigero. Shallowe. Ay, that I do; and have done any time these three hundred years.

Slender.

All his successors gone before him have
they may give the dozen white lures in their coat.
done't, and all his ancestors that come after him may:

Shallow. The council shall hear it; it is a riot.

the sword should end it!"

a

Whatever may have been the joviality of the old mansion in the days of Shakspeare, it had now an air of stillness and solitude. The great iron gateway that opened into the court-yard was locked; there was no show of servants bustling about the place; the deer gazed quietly at me as I passed, there is no fear of Got in a riot; the council, hear you, Evans. It is not meet the council hear of a riot; being no longer harried by the moss-shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear troopers of Stratford. The only signs of riot; take your vizaments in that. domestic life that I met with, was a white Shallow. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, cat stealing with wary look and stealthy pace towards the stables, as if on some Near the window thus emblazoned, hung nefarious expedition. I must not omit to a portrait by Sir Peter Lely of one of the mention the carcase of a scoundrel crow Lucy family, a great beauty of the time of which I saw suspended against the barn Charles the Second; the old housekeeper wall, as it shows that the Lucys still inherit shook her head as she pointed to the picthat lordly abhorrence of poachers, and ture, and informed me that this lady had maintain that rigorous exercise of territo- been sadly addicted to cards, and had rial power which was so strenuously mani- gambled away a great portion of the family fested in the case of the bard, estate, among which was that part of the

niture of the hall had disappeared; for I
I regretted to find that the ancient fur-
had hoped to find the stately elbow chair
of carved oak, in which the country Squire
of former days was wont to sway the scep
tre of empire over his rural domains; and
in which it might be presumed the redoubt.
ed Sir Thomas sat enthroned in awful state
when the recreant Shakspeare was brought
before him. As I like to deck out pictures
for my entertainment, I pleased myself
the idea that this very hall had been the
scene of the unlucky bard's examination on
the morning after his captivity in the lodge.
I fancied to myself the rural potentate,
surrounded by his body guard of butler,
pages, and blue-coated serving men with
their badges; while the luckless culprit was
brought in, bedroofed and chapfallen; in
custody of game-keepers, huntsmen, and
whippers-in, and followed by a rabble rout
of curious housemaids peeping from the
of country clowns. I fancied bright faces
half-open doors, while from the gallery the

Bishop Earle, speaking of the country gentleman of his time, observes, his housekeeping is seen much in the different families of dogs, and serving men attendant on their kennels; and the deepness of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A hawk he esteems the true delighted with the sport, and have his fist gloved with burden of nobility, and is exceedingly ambitious to seems his jesses." And Gilpin, in his description of a Mr. Hastings, remarks," he kept all sorts of hounds that of all kinds, both long and short winged. His great run buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and had hawks hall was commonly strewed with marrowbones, and full broad hearth paved with brick, lay some of the choices of hawk perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. On a terriers, hounds, and spaniels.