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ing them before her, the little creatures are said to
have placed themselves across her path, to receive the
impulse; and when projected some yards in advance,
they ran onwards until she overtook them, when
they alternately adjusted themselves for a second

ed by a tempest, and the Griper waited seven | forward, until she effected their escape. In throw-lor, who was pursued on a field of ice by a bear, days for the Hecla at the rendezvous in Shetland; but the latter suffered so much damage, as to be compelled to steer directly for Leith. They are now both at Dept-throw. ford.

"We hear that a vessel fit for the service has already gone into dock, to be made ready for another voyage of discovery next

season."

The Gleaner.

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

THE GREENLAND BEAR.

(From Captain Scoresby's Arctic Voyages.)

The Polar, or Greenland Bear, the sovereign of
arctic animals, is powerful and courageous; savage
and sagacious; apparently clumsy, yet not inactive.
His senses are extremely acute, especially his sight
and smell. As he traverses extensive fields of ice,
he mounts the hummocks and looks around for
prey; on rearing his head snuffing the breeze, he
perceives the scent of the decayed whale at an im-
mense distance. A piece of kreng thrown into a
fire draws him to a ship from the distance of miles.
The kreng of the whale, however offensive to others,
is to him a banquet. He seems to be equally at
at home on the ice as on the land. He is found on
fields of ice, above 200 miles from the shore. He
ean swim with the velocity of three miles an hour,
and can accomplish some leagues without much
inconvenience.
He dives to a considerable depth,

though not very frequently.
He may be captured in the water without much

Several instances of peculiar sagacity in these animals have been observed.

A seal, lying on the middle of a large field of ice, with a hole just before it, was marked out by a bear for its prey, and secured by the artifice of diving under the ice, and making its way to the hole by which the seal was prepared to retreat. The seal, however, observed its approach, and plunged into the water; but the bear instantly sprung upon it, and appeared about a minute afterwards, with the seal in its mouth.

it

The captain of one of the whalers being anxious to procure a bear, without wounding the skin, made trial of the stratagem of laying the noose of a rope in the snow, and placing a piece of kreng within it. A bear, ranging the neighbouring ice, was soon enticed to the spot by the smell of burning meat, He perceived the bait, approached, and seized it in his mouth; but his foot, ar the same moment, by a jerk of the rope being entangled in the noose, he pushed off with the adjoining paw, and deliberately retired. After having eaten the piece he carried away with him, he returned. The noose, with another piece of kreng, being then replaced, he pushed the rope aside and again walked triumphantly off with the kreng. A third time the noose was laid, but excited to caution by the evident observation of the bear, the sailors buried the rope beneath the snow, and laid the bait in a deep hole dug in the centre. The bear once more approached, and the sailors were assured of their success. But Bruin, more sagacious than they expected, after snuffing about the place for a few moments, scraped the snow away with his paw, threw the rope aside, and again escaped unhurt with bis prize.

danger; but on the ice, he has such powers of re-evidently very unhappy, became, at length, in some

sistance at command, that the exprriment is hazardous. When pursued and attacked, he always turns upon his enemies. If struck with a lance he is apt to seize it in his mouth, and either bite it in two, or wrest it out of the hand. If shot with a ball, unless he is struck in the head, the heart, or in the shoulder, he is enraged rather than depressed, and falls with increased power upon his pursuers. When shot at a distance, aud able to escape, he has been observed to retire to the shelter of a hummock, and, as if conscious of the styptical effect of cold, apply snow with his paws to the wound.

Though possessed of courage and great means of defence, be always, unless urged by hunger, retreats before men. His general walk is slow and deliberate; but when impelled by danger or hunger, he proceeds by a galloping step; and upon ice, can easily outrun any man.

Bears, though they have been known to eat one another, are remarkably affectionate to their young. The female, which has generally two at a birth, defends them with such zeal, and watches over them with such anxiety, that she sometimes falls a sacrifice to her maternal attachment. A pleasing and very extraordinary instance of sagacity in a mother bear was related to me by a credible and well informed person, who accompanied me in several voyages to the whale fisheries in the capacity of surgeon. This bear, with two cubs under its protection, was pursued across a field of ice, by a party of armed sailors. At first she seemed to urge the young ones to an increase of speed by running before them, turning round and manifesting, by a peculiar action and voice, her anxiety for their progress; but finding their pursuers gaining upon them, she carried, or pushed, or pitched them alternately

when at a considerable distance from assistance, preserved his life by throwing down an article of clothing, whenever the bear gained upon him, on which it always suspended the pursuit until it bad examined it, and thus gave him time to gain some advance. It this way, by means of bat, jacket, and a neck-handkerchief, successively cast down, the progress of the bear was cousiderably retarded, and the sailor escaped from the danger that threatened him in the refuge afforded him by the vessel.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR-The following is taken from a Swiss Journa and appears to me well adapted for your Literary Mirror; if you think the same, I shall feel obliged by your inserting it.

TRANSLATOR.

In the early part of my life, I once visited Eng. land, and, during my abode there, took the oppor tunity of seeing the lakes in Westmoreland, fed for the resemblance they bear to the Swiss scenery, It was in the month of August when we approached the vale of the Grassmere. We bad ascended the hill which overlooks the lake, when the postin stopped the carriage that we might behold its beauty To describe my feelings at this moment would & impossible. The calm unruffled surface of the met which reflected on its unsullied bosom the surround ing scenery, rendered doubly beautiful by the va riegated tints of the trees in their autumnal spice dour, could only be compared to an ingen mind whose every feeling may be traced on th countenance, and the appearance of the villag church, with its antique towers, surrounded by fa majestic pines, and the music of whose bells, wafe by a gentle breeze, announced the celebration of rustic wedding, conspired to, make the scene even more lovely and interesting than my native ceustry

In the middle of the lake is seen a beautifalisind, romantically formed and well-wooded, on which is built a cottage, the residence of a recluse, whe abjured the world, and bolds no intercourse with as fellow-creatures. He had once moved in the tra circles of society: disappointment in love, and the ingratitude of a false friend, were the cause of retirement.

At the head of the lake stands Helm Cragg, NV

In the month of June, 1812, a female bear with two cubs approached the ship I commanded, and was shot. The cubs, not attempting to escape, were taken alive. These animals, though at first measure reconciled to their situation, and, being tolerably tame, were allowed occasionally to go at large about the deck. While the ship was moored to a floe, a few days after they were taken, one of them, having a rope fastened round his neck, was thrown overboard. It immediately swam to the ice, got upon it and attempted to escape. Finding ing its majestic head above the neighbourings itself, however, detained by the rope, it endeavoured tains. It is formed of one solid rock, and ex an appearance of indescribable wildness. At to disengage itself in the following ingenious way: near the edge of the floe was a crack in the ice, of a foot of the mountain, lie the remains of the s considerable length, but only 18 inches or 2 feet King of Cumberland. He is buried under an wine, and 3 or 4 feet deep. To this spot the bear mense pile of stones, which were placed above bi returned; and when on crossing the chasm, the bight after the battle, as his rude monument. Several of the rope fell into it, he placed himself across the tique swords and armour, similar to those used in opening; then suspending himself by his hind feet, the Romans, have been discovered here. He with a leg on each side, he dropt the most part of Cragg is the seat of many a legendary story, one of its most remote caverns, there is a rude to bis body into the chasm, and with a foot applied on each side of the neck, attempted for some minutes raised to the memory of two brothers, who unfort to push the rope over his head. Finding this scheme nately perished there. Their death was most lames ineffectual, he removed to the main ice, and running table. One of them was attached to an interes with great impetuosity from the ship, gave a remark-girl in one of the neighbouring valleys, and, in able pull on the rope, then, going back a few steps, visits to her, was in the habit of crossing this se he repeated his jerk. At length, after repeated at- pendous mountain. He was overtaken by tempts to escape this way, every failure of which he which is here very frequent, and in descending the precipitated bead announced by a significant growl, he yielded to his almost perpendicular cliffs, was hard necessity, and lay down on the ice in angry and long, and literally dashed to pieces. He was dis covered by his brother after seven days search, and sullen silence. A bear which was attacked by a boat's crew, in by his side stood his faithful dog-His brother's the Spitsbergen sea, made such a formidible resist. grief was too great to bear. He pined and ded ence, that it was enabled to climb the side of the The dog did not long survive them. On the ro boat, and take possession of it, while the intimidated which fronts this cavern, in rade letters, is engraved crew fled for safety to the water, supporting them the word “ Friendship.” seives by the gunwale and rings of the boat, until by the assistance of another party from the ship, it was shot as it sat innofensively on the stern. And with regard to narrow escapes, I shall only add, that a sai

Such a combination of interesting events which are recorded of this valley, made an impression e my mind never to be effaced. The remembranc will ever give me pleasure. Adieu,

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Written by a friend of the correspondent, at whose them may be enumerated the violent and irrational request it is inserted. )

Surely the curse of the Almighty is upon the land! Some modern Job must have incited the cupidity of our mortal enemy, and the eternal Deity have given leave to visit him with fire and smoke, and make his paradise a desert.

Like the burning mountain of the Persian poet, all is fire. The bills blaze in countless volcanoes, and the valleys vomit fire and flame. It is the *Valley of the Shadow of Death" realised. All is dense, turbid, and sombre.

rack the mind's recollection to the visitation of God pon the lands of Sodom and Gomorrah; while rom the very blaze around flashes the conviction, bat this too is a land of sin and iniquity.

of his magic poetry.

alteration of the original, which thwarts Shakspeare's play in almost all its essential purposes, which obstruct his plot, and deaden the influence Mr. Vandenhoff, though his part suffers from the causes which are here mentoned, bad less of the interpolated trash to repeat than most of the characters. This was most fortunate for him, as his taste is more effectually excit ed, to proportion to the strength and beauty of the language. It is to the credit of his understanding that he failed in the substituted rant, and that he was quite successful in all the lofty passages of the The rays of the sun scarce penetrate the mantle. His voice is of a defective character, both as to strength and depth of tone. If the great size of vapours which overspreads the earth. Its genial of the theatre be taken into consideration, it will warmth is spent upon the clouded atmosphere, and not be imputed to him as a fault, that in most of it comes over us in gusts, like the pent-up blasts of the level passages he failed to impart the fullest Is a furnace. We inbale a poisonous gas; the lungs effect of which they are capable. He was decidedly are distended; breathing is difficult; the skin be comes parched; hectic overspreads the frame; and excellent, however, in those which result from the more dire and heartfelt emotions, His first bursts decline, consumption, and asthma are the recruiting of rage were full of deep pathos, and his curses on fficers of Death, whose banners are spread abroad, Goneril were delivered with a frankness of baffled od carry off thousands and tens of thousands. With night come thicker horrors. That which dignation terribly natural. His irrepressible grief day was smoke, is then a cloud of fire. To look broke forth in irregular volleys of groans and shattered articulation, which fell upon the feelings of found and see nought but fires upon fires, is to the audience, without waiting for the sanction of their judgments. He was premature in the full display of mental agony, as some of the effect should bave been reserved for the distress which precedes the conclusion. His voice wants more modulation; it was too much convulsed and broken in the stormy passages, and too weak and indifferent in the calm ones. Some of his delivery in both instances was powerful. The address to the elements, and the mad conversation with Edgar, may be specified as examples. His deportment was in strict conformity with the character throughout, and his figure and appearance were sufficiently regal and imposing. Upon the whole, the performance was a spirited effort, abounding in proofs of sound judgment and a refined taste, the few drawbacks upon it being the result of accident or negligence, and by no means attributable to defective sense or accomplishments He was enthusiastically applauded throughout. At the falling of the curtain Mr. C. Kemble came for ward to announce the performance for Monday night, but the audience drowned his voice with cries of "Vandenhoff!" The latter gentleman came forward after a few minutes had elapsed; the greater part of the pit rose, and standing on the seats saluted him with acclamations, waving their hats and handkerchiefs. Silence being restored, he anounced King Lear for repetition, and retired amidst the same tumultuous approbation with which he had been received.

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To venture within these regions of the damned; listen to the reverberations and sullen hiss of the team boilers; the monotonous fall of the hammer, nd the low crackling of the iron ore; to hear the anguage of imprecations of the cylops of the place; tread upon the burning land which blazes under he feet; to pass the flaming mouths of the furnaces, nere streams of fire rush, like fallen spirits, from heir prison-house to expand in air, and visit once ain the scene of their mortal probation and eternal : to view all this with apathy or indifference; suffer these impressious to escape unrecorded on he mind, were to confess a soul alive only to self. nterest and gratification, but dead to every sense Mankind are but murderers; they have murdered the beautiful ideal of Nature, and her bowels strew the land, while the vultures of gain glut their Cravings after her hidden stores, to furnish keener gests for destroying, and accumulated means for

of what is beautiful and harmonious in nature.

destraction.

Would they but see how this deep diving after fross entails misery, ruin, and destruction on the Buman race: would they but see how man becomes demoralized; how his frame alters, till be is scarce bunan; how his mind gets callous to every impres#os of religion, seeking no higher rationality than qurses and imprecations, but lies buried under a pass of corruption, like the ore he seeks, darkling, its native mines: Oh! would they but see all his, they would for ever stop the mouths of their saverus, which, like the Hell of Daute, should have, written at their entrances, "Whoso entereth here, abandoneth hope."

Brama.

MR, VANDENHOFF'S FIRST APPEARANCE

IN LONDON.

Our Liverpool readers will be gratified by the following article, which is copied from the Globe of

The London critics will find themselves mistaken on this point.

Miscellanies.

EXTRAORDINARY VISIT OF A HORSE TO THE
KITCHEN OF A VETERINARY SURGEON.

Recently, a horse in harness, just returned from the country, started from the door of its owner, Mr. Roofe, of Colchester, at full speed, up the High-street, passing the Angel, towards the top of the town. When near Mr. Wallis's, it got upon the flat pavement, upset an apple stall, and dashed the gig to atoms against the portico of the New Corn Exchange; continued its career with the shafts along the portico, crossed the top of North-hill, in a straight line, and came against the door of Mr. Baker, veterinary surgeon, which flew At Covent Garden on Saturday night was pre-open, and, in a moment, the horse, shafts and all, sented the tragedy of King Lear, in order to intro- went down the passage into the kitchen, to the great duce Mr. Vandenhoff, a gentleman of great pro- alarm of Mr. Baker's family. Fortunately no one was vincial fame in his profession, to a London audi- hurt. A boy was thrown down, but received no injury. ence. The difficultits attending such a perform ➡Chelmsford Chronicle..

the 11th inst.

QUAKERS.

Among no class in our country are fewer instances of extreme poverty and distress to be found than among those persons denominated. "Friends, or Quakers." Scarcely do we recollect among these social communities one instance of that absolute indolence which demoralizes the individual, and produces such distress in his family, as not unfrequently renders life a burden to its members. If we look for the reasons why this class of persons are generally in better circumstan ces than others of their fellow-citizens, we shall find them in their persevering industry, and that spirit of rious living. To the former, in particular, may be ateconomy which discourages from extravagant and luxutributed their success as merchants, mechanics, and farmers. Industry, in every calling or profession, is requisite to advancement. With the importance of this moral virtue the Quakers are early impressed in youth; it makes a part of their education, and becomes in life habitual. It is earnestly to be wished that we could see their industry and economy in every domestic circle. Then would much of that pecuniary distress, in which absence of one of its greatest causes. many are involved, disappear from among us, by the

The late Mrs. Jasper Leigh Goodwin, of Hoddesdon, in Hertfordshire, lately left by will the following sums to the undermentioned benevolent institutions: To the Clergy Orphan Society. To the Bristol Infirmary....

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Correspondence.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR In reply to your correspondent C. R I beg to observe, with regard to his first question' that people, having lost any thing, will look in places where they have no idea of finding it, (after having looked in places where they had any an idea it might be,) but if they gave themselves time for reflection, they might be sure that the lost article could not possibly be there.-The second question is of a more complex nature, and admits of being taken in dif. ferent ways. First, if a person goes to seek a thing (as expressed in the question), we must, suppose that he is not sure of finding it, and, therefore, cannot properly be said to go for it but if a thing is left at any certain place, where he has nothing to do but go and receive it, then he certainly goes for the article, and not to seek it, there being no doubt as to where the article may be found. Thus, the difference between going for a thing, and going to seek a thing is, that one is a certainty, and the other an uncertainty.

Yours, &c.

MICHAEL SCOTT.

COKE.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR-In a letter from your correspondent OBSERVER, about the Coke at the Liverpool works, another important consideration occurs to him, which he wishes may be added in a

POSTSCRIPT.

thusiasm of soul, which carries away, as a torrent, demanded to see the lad.-The cook, for such was the both the poet and his reader. His reasoning is calm, occupation of this terrific monster, then held him up by eloquent, and convincing, rather than noisy and his feet. He appeared to be about fourteen years of age overpowering; and his ideas flow in smooth, rather and was about half roasted. Mr. Leigh returned to the than rapid succession. Habitually of a melancholy village, where he found several hundreds of the natives Gass-disposition, this temperament pervades the whole of seated in a circle, with a quantity of coomery (a sort of his poetry; of which, when you have read a few body of the youth. In this company were shown to sweet potatoe) before them, and waiting for the roasted pages, you become acquainted, intimately acquaint him the parents of the child, expecting to share in the ed, with the author, who introduces you to himself horrid feast. After reasoning with them for about half The Coke is bought at the Gass-works by poor in the most pleasing manner; unfolds the feelings an hour on the inhumanity and wickedness of their con people, who get it at a cheaper rate, and as a sub- that animate, and the troubles that distress him; duct, he prevailed upon them to give up the boy to be atitute for coal: and amongst the various ways of and long before you have perused the volume, you interred, and thus prevented them from consummating conveying it home, the method above described is become not merely the reader of his poetry, but the the most cruel, unnatural, and diabolical act of which one adopted. Another danger arising from the use confidential friend of Cowper. His style is smooth human nature is capable. of the coke, which these poor people and all persons and copious, without that fire and animation, which should be acquainted with, is, that unless the room is now so much admired, and yet engages the where the coke is burnt is thorougbly ventilated-fancy, while it cultivates the taste of the reader; unless there is a free draught for the fumes arising his similes, which are used very sparingly, are just from the burning coke very serious consequences and beautiful; and never was author freer from may ensue. Persons of an asthmatical constitution bombast. When he exclaims and young children ought, especially, to avoid an atmosphere so impregnated: and if any one should be so unfortunte or imprudent as to go to bed in an apartment not well ventilated, were coke is burning, they may go to sleep, not to wake again in this world.

TO THE EDITORSMITH.

SUR,-Oy sumtoimes reeds that ere youg noosepayper o'thoyne wi sick a kweer neame, wic in moy moynde thees inwented thoysel, kawse az 'ow oy konna foynde it ith bigg dixnary, and eye nose theres no K in Latto, wic meaks mea suspeact az how its Wellsh, and oye opes thee'n tell un neckst weak wot thee means boy it.

But oyse goin to tell thee, Measter Kallideuscope, thatt oyse meade hup moy moynde to kum owt, may be yu dozent no wot oy meuns by kummin owt, but its wot the pleyer foak caw the furst toyme a yong backtur hacks. Oize desprit clivir, as you mun think wheu oy says that oise too yards and a kwarter eye, and a full formd mon in all sheaps, tubby shure oye bin a bit nokneed, tho' oyse no need o káocks, for mi hed was batterd to a hare puddin last neet boy a red hot pigg driver, bekawse eye tripped mysel over sum of his live bakon, and shure as sixpence eye nearly bounst ith Dry Dock, where eye mit ha bin drowut you no. Moy kuzzen Kate sais as ow eye skwints, butt dunna you beleever; whees a swindzjin loyar. Now eye nose as ow u kan sett me ou moy leggs if you'll only pitch mee in a gude wurd to the hammatuer foke, as eyes toud there a dasent sett, and oyse shure to suck seed in a'm let alone.

Yores at kummande,

LONG ROSCIUS.

Boy way of rekkommendashon, eye sarvd four yeres in the Local Millisha.

HORE OTIOSÆ.

No. I.

COWPER.

Although Cowper has acquired great celebrity and many admirers, it has been by far different means from those made use of by the popular poets who preceded him, or by those who now captivate the world. He aimed not at popularity; his poems are evidently the production of a man, more anxious to amuse his intimate friends, and himself, than to captivate the mass of mankind. His feelings appear to have been those of a man with whom the opinion of the world weighed but little He does not aim at dazzling the reader by the brilliancy of his thoughts, or the lively turn of his imagination; and he neither felt, nor aimed at inspiring that en

Oh! for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more!

For I am sick

it is evident that this is no rhetorical flourishing.
such was the language of his heart. Indeed, through
the whole of his poetry, the feeling of sickness at the
vices and follies of the world runs; and to the ha-
bitual, yet pleasing melancholy of the author, we
are perhaps indebted for the most beautiful parts of
his poetry. And, whatever may be the opinion of
the world at large, this "morbid sensibility" as they
term it, is infinitely preferable to the boisterous and
unfeeling gaiety, which is only to be purchased by
plunging headlong into folly and vice.

Cowper appears to have been enthusiastically at
tached to the country. Some of his most beautiful
turps of thought are occasioned by rural objects.
Such is his description of the village bells:

How soft the music of those village bells,
Tolling at intervals upon the ear,
In cadence sweet; now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still;
Clear and sonorous as the gale comes on.
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept; wherever I have heard
A kindred melody, the scene recurs,

And with it, all its pleasures and its pains.
Your reader cannot fail to notice the powerful
ideas which these lines present, of bells heard at a
distance. When Cowper tries sarcasm, it is of the
most generous kind; never degenerating into scur.
rility or invective, and always aimed at characters
well deserving it.

Liverpool, December, 1820.

CANNIBALISM.

M.

Mr. Leigh, a missionary recently returned to England, relates the following story of cannibalism, which occurred during his residence of six weeks at New Zealand: "One day, while Mr. Leigh was walking on the beach, conversing with a native chief, his attention was arrested by a great number of people on a neighbouring hill. He inquired the cause of such a concourse; and being told that they were roasting a lad, and had assembled to to ascertain the truth of this appalling relation. Being eat him, he immediately proceeded to the place, in order arrived at the village where the people were collected, he asked to see the boy. The natives appeared much agitated at his presence, and particularly at his request, as if conscious of their guilt; and it was only after a very urgent solicitation that they directed him towards a large fire at some distance, where they said he would find bloody spot on which the head of this unhappy victim him. As he was going to the place, he passed by the had been cut off; and on approaching the fire, he was not a little startled at the sudden appearance of a savage looking man, of gigantic stature, entirely naked, and armed with an axe. Mr. Leig, though somewhat intimidated, manifested no symptoms of fear, but boldly

To Correspondents.

HOUSELESS POOR.-As we have reason to believe that there are destitute beings to be found wandering our streets at this season, who have no means of procuring shelter from the inclemency of the weather, we hope to meet the co-operation and countenance of our b benevolent and active townsmen, in the immit establishment of a refuge for such sufferers, on the o nomical and effectual plan, which was so succesfully resorted to during several of the last winters. We shall be happy to communicate with those who feel interested upon the subject, whom we shall be ready to meet any day, at our office, between the hours of twelve and two.

Miss M'Avor's WONDERFUL TOUCH!-Dr. RE WICK, in his recent work on the miraculous powend the late Miss M'Avoy, has not treated his incredulos antagonists with much ceremony. We agree with FAIRPLAY, that his book is fair game; and we par pose at an early day to take such notice of it, conceive it deserves; at the same time, avowing our readiness to hear both sides of the question. We ticipate some interest in the pursuit of a subjet which we thought had been set for ever at rest; but there are, it seems, learned men, besides Goldsmith's pedagogue, of whom it may be said,

"For, e'en though vanquish'd, they could argue still." FRENCH CRITICISM.-When we commenced the b ject, we did not anticipate that so numerous arr progeny would arise from "Mon père et ma net. We should have introduced GUILLAUME, and W. our readers this week, had we not already devoted t column or two to original criticism. We shall, there Since we wrote the foregoing paragraph, we have fore, keep back the reply to J. B. J. until next wed ceived further letters on this same subject; the one signed S. and the other S. M.

Y. Z.'s original commentary on the works of Man, &c. are also very welcome, and shall appear week.

There can be no question upon the point alluded to by Y. Z. who, be it understood, is not the correspondent whose physiological paper appears in this day's Ko leidoscope.

We particularly request that the translator of the lis entitled THE SCHOOL MASTER, would inform

who the writer is. There can be no objection, v
presume, as no unauthorised use shall be made of the
information.

Next week, or the following week, we purpose to attend
to the favours of HENRICUS-COADE LAMBETH-
The CONNOISSEUR is suitable enough for our colunt
H.-J. M. G.-A.-J. H. and a Friend.

of selections.

The HAPPY PAIR is under consideration.

We have already corrected the mis-statement noticed by A WARM ADMIRER, and shall refer him to the num• ber of the paper in our next.

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

OR,

Literary and Scientific Mirror.

No. 26.-NEW SERIES.

Fine Arts.

ON COLLECTING PRINTS.

LETTER I.

to the edITOR.

Be mine to bless the more mechanic skill,
That stamps, renews, and multiplies at will,
And cheaply circulates through distant climes,
The fairest relics of the purest times.

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ing the merits of the different schools, or admiring the
beauties of their varied specimens ?

Liverpool, 1820.

PRICE 3 d.

AN AMATEUR.

Literature, Criticism, &c.

TO THE EDITOR.

peared in an English dress. I shall have occasion to mention others in my future letters. For the present, The portfolio is the proper accompaniment of the Sir, I conclude, and subscribe myself an admirer of drawing-room as well as the library; it is unexception-your Kaleidoscope, and your friend, able in a music-room, and even in a card party, that never-failing amusement of old and young, it is always a fund of gratification and delight to those who are not participating in the game, more especially to the younger branches of society, whose minds, although apparently on the pursuit of pleasure only, thus imbibe instruction and cultivate their taste, while they appear Rogers. to be merely enjoying an amusement. Referring more SIR,-Since the lamented dispersion of the celebrated immediately to the use of prints, it may be justly said flection of our enlightened townsman, Mr. Roscoe, that they afford instruction to youth from the lively SIR,-If my health and leisure will perhas often been a subject of regret with me, that in impression they make on the imagination; the lessons mit me, and, above all, if the approbation sepulent and liberal town of Liverpool, so tew, so they offer are quicker, stronger, and of longer duration of readers should encourage me, it is your ry few individuals are to be found who possess col- than those given by words. If you wish a child to tions of Engravings. It appears to me, Sir, that learn effectually any event of history, amuse him by my present intention to offer them a brief ere wealth abounds, and where taste and a liberal the representation of that event, explaining to him the critical analysis of some of the less-known couragement of the arts and literature are acknow-subject, and he will rarely ever forget the effect made iged to exist, a fondness for the works of the en- upon his youthful mind by the characters of those who plays of Marlow, Ford, and Massinger. aver must exist also. I can therefore only attribute are actors in the scene. Prints also furnish to old However unequal I feel myself to this task, • great coldness and neglect with which the finest age an agreeable amusement, by recalling ideas and I yet am somewhat confident, that the ductions of this kind treated, even by the ad- events which time had effaced from the memory. beauty of the quotations from these celefrers of the arts in general, here, to the diffi- They represent to us distant transactions as if they brated authors, will make ample amends for By, or supposed difficulty, of making a systematic were before our eyes; they bring home to us the most the many imperfections in its execution. rangement of their specimens. This difficulty early remote countries, and make them as familiar as our resents itself to those who intend to form collections, own; we profit by and enjoy the beauties of these But should it, notwithstanding, be received ad I most fully allow that it offers no trifling obstacle countries, which otherwise we could have no know- kindly, I shall be abundantly recompensed their progress; for, without arrangement, the pos-ledge of. They make us cotemporary with the greatest for my labour, and shall implore the gentle tor of a collection of prints, instead of a treasure, men of former ages, with whom, from their exact Lan incumbrance, and instead of enjoying the de- resemblance, we seem to live. Had the ancients pos-reader to apply to me, if he can do so with hts and advantages of regularity, he suffers all the sessed the advantages of engraving, we should have justice, the benevolent maxim of Horace. sations of confusion. It is my wish, Sir, through been familiar, by means of prints, with all their beaumedium of your interesting miscellany, to offer a tiful and curious possessions: the temples and palaces remarks on the facility of arranging a collection; of which so much is said in history, the so much dif, by so doing, I can induce some of my fellow boasted monuments, the labours of the Egyptians, the wasmen to become collectors, or can give to those Greeks, and the Romans, of which description gives us to possess collections any useful hints as to their ar- but a faint idea. Those most celebrated statues, of igement, my purpose is answered. which the sad reliques are, at this day, at once the admiration and regret of all connoiseurs: in short, all the marvelous works of antiquity would have been trans- of our literature: it was the age of Shakmitted to posterity, and thus we should have become speare, Ford, Marlow, Beaumont and the inheritors of their riches. Fletcher, and Massinger: names that have shed a lustre over the dramatic literature of England, which that of no other age or country has ever yet attained. But with them its glorious sun has set, and it has only now and then arisen since, to illume us with a faint, partial, and glimmering light Their immediate successors, departing from such models, and conforming to the meri tricious taste and licentious manners o. their times, have derived the principal inte

Before I proceed in my attempt, allow me to offer a
→ words on the advantage and pleasure of collecting

Ints.
Looking at the satisfaction of possessing a collection
prints, it is surprising that we have found so few

Lo have turned their inclinations that way. A
owledge of them is easily acquired; and as their
nge in the arts embraces subjects of so many different
nds, they readily become objects of interest and

ility.

Nothing is more proper to form our taste than prints: they give us a feeling for the fine arts; they help us to a knowledge of pictures (of this more hereafter); in short, there is no one, of whatever age, country, or station he may be, who may not derive instruction and amusement from the productions of the graver, which have so multiplied to the present hour, as to afford to us almost every species of knowledge.

With what delight will a cultivated mind of any age,
- of either sex, turn over the contents of a well-
ranged portfolio? Can the hours of relaxation, I am indebted, Sir, for several of these observations,
orded to a man engaged in the ardent pursuit of as well as for much valuable information on the subject
>mmerce, or the mental fatigues of the learned proof prints, to the pen of M. Huber, the able author of
sions, be more rationally occupied than in observing Notices générales," and of the " Manuel des arts et
e progress of art from the earliest ages, compar-des amateurs," works, which I lament have not yet ap-

Non ego paucis
Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura.
Yours, &c.

Y. Z.

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If she refuse,

The Stygian damps breeding infectious airs,
The mandrake's shrieks, the basilisk's killing eye,
The dreadful lightning that does crush the bones,
And never singe the skin, shall not appear
Less fatal to her, than my zeal made hot
With love unto my gods.

ter, it would be uncandid not to mention his chief defect-a defect which deforms the dramas of most of his cotemporaries, and even of Shakspeare himself: I mean the introduction of obscene characters into

his plays. The prevailing taste of the times may certainly be alleged as an excuse for the practice; and Massinger wrote for bread as well as fame. But it is surely not less astonishing that a poet who could unfold with such delicate taste the most

fensive obscenity. But it is in the vivid sketches of passion, in the lucid illustration of human character, in the tender display of pathos, and in the language of the human heart, that the dramatic writers above menmentioned have erected monuments which will never perish. In these qualifications In the construction of his plots he is often combined, Shakspeare is himself alone. confused, and sometimes extravagant. But If the others, however, are far outstripped as this fault has been overlooked in Shak-hidden springs of action, who could pere by him, they are each of them possessed of speare, it may surely be pardoned in Mas-trate into the bowers of pure and innoce peculiar and varied excellencies, which singer. In defiance of the well-known pre- love, and paint with so gentle a pencil its place them far above the dramatic poets of cept of Horace, he is perhaps too fond of ravishments and delights, could so far deFrance, and which rank them with the no- crowding his scenes with a variety of per-part from his natural delicacy of taste as to blest models of antiquity. Beaumont and sons, and in this respect he may be said to draw such obscene characters as Hercias Fletcher are remarkable for wit, humour, fall short of the more studiously correct and Spungius-characters that “blur the and classical imagery: Ford, for sweetness, dramatists of our times. But it is doubtful grace and flush of modesty," and that have pathos, and melody of versification: Mar- whether easy irregularity in the plot, and neither wit, humour, nor nature to reco low, for vivid expression of passion: and varied profuseness in the characters, are not mend them. But it is the lot of humar Massinger for purity of language, elevation to be preferred to exact observance of the to be imperfect, and it is at least refreshing of sentiment, and correct delineation of critical rules of the ancients, and to correct to turn from such disgusting wretches a character. Massinger, in my estimation, sameness and scantiness in the dramatis per- those scenes in which his various beauties deserves to be ranked next to Shakspeare. sonæ. The former are more delightful to burst forth in their full lustre, and of which I shall, therefore, endeavour to give a slight I shall endeavour to give my reader a tatt sketch of his character as a writer, and then in the following selections from the tragedy proceed to make some extracts from one of of the Virgin Martyr. his tragedies.

the taste, the latter to the understanding.
His incidents are often extravagant and un-
natural; such as racks, tortures, and execu-
tions. His employment of dæmons and
evil spirits as agents, is also faulty: they
tend to break up the delusion in the mind

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This drama is designed to record the It was Massinger's good fortune to have triumphs of Christianity. Theoph received a liberal education; and to this zealous persecutor of the Christians, r we are indebted for the beautiful allusions of the reader or spectator, and never fail to Dioclesian, has two daughters, Calista d which adorn, and for the noble sentiments shock or disgust him. In this respect he Christeta, who are sent to convert to P which enrich his dramas. He is the poet of is greatly inferior to Shakspeare; to whose ganism, Dorothea the Virgin Martyr. S sentiment, rather than of passion. If he genius alone it was left to revel in the re- is under sentence of death, but with a pr generally fails, however, in the delineation gions of fancy, and to create an order of mise of pardon if she abjure her rel of the storms of the human heart, he is beings, endowed with the most poetical and embrace Paganism. By her eloc always happy in the description of its qualities. Massinger's style has all the however, they are themselves converd gentler agitations: pathetic in his pictures characteristics of that of the age of Eliza-Christianity. Calista, Christeta, and Dars of its sorrows, and tender in those of its beth: diffuse without weakness, nervous thea suffer death. But the latter has pre loves, he possesses, to a great extent, the without roughness, copious without profuse-viously inspired with a violent passi power of exciting the interests, and melting ness, smooth without feebleness, and po- Antoninus, a young soldier, and so the hearts of his readers. In his develop-lished without study. In versification he is the Governor of Cæsarea. His convers ment of character, he displays much nice varied, majestic, and melodious; as in the and death soon follow. Artemia, the daug discrimination, is seldom inconsistent, and ter of the Emperor, is at first enamour maintains a correct keeping throughout.of Antoninus, but afterwards marries th His pictures of natural objects are fresh, Cæsar Maximinus. Theophilus is likewa glowing, and striking; and although he has converted by a vision sent down from He nothing to be compared with "the moonlight sweetly sleeping on a bank," with "jocund day standing tiptoe on the misty mountain's top," or with the "mole cinque, spotted like the crimson drops i'the bottom of a cowslip," of Shakspeare, he often paints, in a few words, what would require as many lines in a poet of less genius. in the following charming picture:

As

following beautiful passage:

If you love valour,
As 'tis a kingly virtue, seek it out,
And cherish it in a king; there it shines brightest,
And yields the bravest lustre. Look on Epire,
A prince in whom it is incorporate;
And let it not disgrace him that he was
O'ercome by Cæsar; it was victory

To stand so long against him: had you seen him,
How in one bloody scene he did discharge
The parts of a commander and a soldier,
Wise in direction, bold in execution;

You would have said, great Cæsar's self excepted,
The world yields not his equal.

ven, by Dorothea. On these and a fe minor incidents, the chief interest of drama hinges.

The play opens with the triumphant e of Dioclesian into Cæsarea, with the h of Epire, Pontus, and Macedon, prisca But I have room only for part of this s The Emperor thus addresses

scene.

In this sketch of his character as a wri- captives:

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