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grief which time has indeed assuaged, but not with a Lethan balm. I will tell you what seldom fails, at such an hour as this, to come athwart my lonely dreamings; 'tis a simple tale, but a sad reality of woe. I have a friend who has been dear to me ever since my boyhood. Were you to see him you would augur, from the native dignity of his mien, that he was born for sway amongst men. It is not so: there is some thing so noble in his nature, that he can neither stoop to those paltry meanнesses, nor feign a relish for those ely insipid follies, which are too indispensable requisites in the character of him who would shine a meteor of the world. Destiny has, it is true, placed him on the stage of busy life, and he can act his part on it even with applause. But his soul is not there it loves to take refuge in the more congenial sphere of literary or domestic retirement.

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on the verge of dissolution; yet a little while and she | Nothing could be more dignified than the manly comwill hold communion with kindred angels; to see the posure which beamed on his countenance the next rose of struggling life on that cheek fading fast, very morning. He squoze my hand energetically, and told fast, into the pale lily of death; to see the light of me that his struggle with his wayward passions during of those eyes waning, waning into the darkness of the the night had been severe, but reason and religion had tomb; above all, to see the sufferer so meekly resigned, aided his efforts to master them, and for the future so full of pious hope; only anxious to cheer the bro- he trusted he should bow with befitting submission ken spirit of her wretched husband; only anxious to to the decree of an allwise Providence. give the last tokens of a mother's love to her little innocents, sporting around her, all unconscious what death could do.

Late one evening Henry sent to tell me that Helen wished to see me: I delayed not in obeying the summone, During my walk, I felt my spirits unusually depressed; this I attributed to the langour of the air, for it was the close of a very sultry summer's day, and the sky was glooming from excess of heat. But as I passed through the wood which sequesters the ancient hall where my friends dwelt, my heart beat so strangely, that I could have sworn some evil was impending. fancied the wonted silence of that vesper hour could only be the stillness which attends the ravage of death; even the two weeping willows on the lawn seemed to droop more mournfully than ever before. I knocked softly at the venerable oak door; no one appeared. How my hand trembled as I raised the knocker a second time. The door was opened. To my quick inquiry," How is your Mistress, John?" the old serving-man shook his head too significantly, and only said, "She has been asking for you, Sir," Trushed up stairs to the sick chamber. What an appalling scene was there. At one end of the room a group of weeping domestics. A tear was glistening, too, in the eye of the worthy physician; for custom had not brazed his heart proof to such a scene. On the bed of their dying mother her children were weeping bitterly (they knew not why); in terror rather than in sorrow. Henry could not weep: he stood bending over his expiring wite in the stupor of despair, yet tremblingly alive, did she but move. I drew nigh the couch. Helen smiled on me. Oh! that smile! never, never will it be forgotten. She took my hand; oh! the thrill of that cold touch! she placed it in Henry's, and said "Be to each other always as you have ever beer.. go, beloved Henry, I go. Grieve not, but rather be grateful, that a Merciful Heaven: hath spared you to teach our children that religion which can sooth even my pangs in parting from you and my little ones. Let me kiss my dear babes for the last time." I raised them in my arnis to receive that holy kiss. "Promise me" she continued with energy" that you will subdue your grief, that you will live for the sake of these little ones." " will, I will," burst from Henry convulsively. "Heaven bless you and them. Father of Heaven I die content for thy dear Son's sake." Here her voice faltered, and we only knew from the motion of her lips that she was in prayer. Presently that motion became feebler and feebler, and soon ceased altogether; so gently had her spirit flown that we could not believe, for many minutes, that it was gone for ever.

I

From his youth upward he loved unchangeably one who was in every way worthy of his most devoted love. Can I say more in her praise? Spirit of his sainted Helen, if thou heardest me thou wouldst proudly answer, no! Yet could I prate eternally of the charms of that lovely one. She was so unaffectedly graceful in her form; so charming in her every feature. But her eyes; there the fascination lurked. I never shall forget those lovely eyes; her soul was, in truth, purely imaged in them. They would now and then sparkle with the most delicate vivacity; but their wonted tinge was an expression of such softness, that be who looked on them would feel a divine calm serening all his ruffled thoughts; like as we feel when we gaze on the azure vault of the cloudless heaven. I have seen Henry gaze on those eyes, until the big tears trickled down his cheeks, in the very ecstacy of Fortune frowned on their dawning flame; and a stern, ambitious father forbade their intercourse. But the flame only gathered vigour from this check; and it was not very long ere the honourable industry of Henry won the favour of fortune, and that father's blessing on their union. I had been their confidant, and, perhaps, had, in some measure, hastened this happy consummation. Their gratitude was boundless. Well do I remember how they welcomed me in their little Paradise of Love, the first visit I paid them after their marriage. Helen's eyes were as eloquent as Henry's words. "See how happy we are, all this we owe to you." My heart was full of joy to overflow ing Swiftly fitted a few halcyon years: time did not lessen even the ardour of their love, but linked it to the most perfect esteem. "Each was to each a dearer self." Helen was quite an enthusiast in conjugal affection. She would watch the very looks of Henry when he returned home from that business which procured for them more than an elegant sufficiency; and if she espied a dark cloud lowering on his brow, she did not, she could not, as I have seen some wives do, seek to dispel it by flippant dalliance. No! Helen could not put on the mask of levity when her Henry was sad. She would cast on him a kind inquiring glance, and when he had told what harassed him, she When Dr. R pronounced solemnly "she is dead," would reward his confidence with such serious sym- Henry lifted up his eyes, all glaring with a terrific wildpathy, and yet all the while sooth his care so winning-ness, and exclaimed with an hysteric laugh "Dead? ly, that he would soon clasp her in his arms, and be all Dead? No, no, no!" He then resumed his gaze on ber own again. Meanwhile their home was enlivened the wreck of that shrine where he had treasured up his by a noble little hero (whom they had named Tityrus, heart. Needs must that heart be scathed by the fell in honour of me, his godfather) and a cherub of a blast which had levelled that shrine with the dust. girl, who promised to be decked with all her mother's From that time he spoke not, he wept not, his anguish graces. Oh, how we all doted on these sweet babes! could find no vent; so insensible was he on what he Hitherto had heaven smiled approvingly, and show-gazed, that he suffered me to lead him whither I listed. ered its richest bounties on this virtuous pair. It was for two nights and almost two days, I was fearful his fated they should now exchange this earthly bliss for mind was overthrown. Towards the close of the sean immortal, reward hereafter. Heaven had, in ita cond day, I was mournfully regarding his fallen state, wisdom, doomed that the sacrifice of that bliss should when little Tityrus and his sister rushed into the room, teach a sianing world how frail is the purest happiness sobbing as if their hearts would break. Tityrus ran ca earth; should warn presumptuous man that the up to his father, pulled him by the coat imploringly, joy hand of death nips alike the bud of goodliest pro-and cried, "Papa, naughty man has brought a big box

mise, and the leaf that is searest.

The little girl could just lisp, "Papa," which her mamma had taught her, being fondly anxious that it should be the first word her child should learn to utter, when Helen's good old mother sickened and died.In discharging too zealously the last duties of filial affection, Heleu neglected her own precious health, she took cold, and from thenceforth death marked her as his victim. A consumption preyed quickly on her vital frame. The aid of medicine, the prayers of the agonized Henry, were all vain; heaven had willed her death. Oh it was a heart-rending, an awful sight, to cee one so good, so beauteous, and so young, lingering

to carry mamma away in; he sha'nt take her away; don't let him, papa.' His papa heeded not, and it was not until the boy had repeated again his tale of woe, that he hearkened to it. That appeal could not but touch his gentler feelings. He clasped his darling to his heart, his little Helen, too, his only Helen now, Those and deluged them with an ocean of tears. burning tears were the healing dew of Heaven to his wounded spirit. I did not neglect the opportunity to remind him of his promise, pledged to his dying Helen, that he would live for the sake of her little ones. He heard me with deep attention. Indeed from that auspicious hour he was quite himself again,

Nobly has he kept this Christian resolve. Not that the waters of affliction have abated one jot in freshness, but they glide now in a more gentle current, flowing on, flowing on, and, as they flow, diffusing the most delicious verdure over the dreariest spots of life. Perhaps the scorner will sneer at his fond devices to hallow the memory of her who is now his tutelar angel. The music room, the pensive grove, where their happiest hours were passed together, he hath consecrated to the remembrance of those hours, A portion of each day is set apart to meditation in that room, that grove, or on the green turf 'neath which his buried love lies, for it was one of his phantasies to spurn the idea that a cold stone should press heavy on Often does he that heart which was once so warm. assure me, that the hours which he thus spends are not only the most delightful but also the most instructive of his existence. They nerve him to tread cheerfully the rugged paths of duty, for they teach him that these paths will lead to the eternal embrace of his Helen. What churl would deny him this harmless, this holy

solace. Yet this is what

"Men of interest deem Romance." TITYRUS QUILLET.

Liverpool, August 3, 1820.

[From a Correspondent.]

A HINT TO THE FAIR.

On the Journals of the Medical Society in Paris, the following case stands recorded :—

"A most promising young man fell most desperately in love with a fine lady; just as it will now and then happen in other countries. The beloved was not at first unusually cruel, and both wandered for some time undisturbed on the rosy path of mutual affection: but Heaven knows what demon got betwixt them; they quarrelled and could not be re

conciled!

The youth, indeed, left nothing untried; and, as they were not yet married, he thought it of course his duty to be the most active: he was not discou raged by a first or second fruitless attempt, but even risked a third and a fourth, which were equally un'successful; Princess Flint was not to be moved by any thing.

Once more, however, he tried the whole force of love, by surprising his cruel charmer on a solitary walk; he fell at her feet, and there he sighed and wept, and wept and sighed again: all in vain.Suddenly his love changed into fury; but, still venerating the fair barbarian, he turned his rage merciy against himself, and bit, half senseless, in the middle finger of his own hand: on the following day, not only the finger, but the hand and the whole arm were swollen; he suffered indescribably, and the pain soon mounted to the head; he became delirious, had trances, convulsions, and, in short, showed all the symptoms of hydrophobia; he refused every nourishment, offered to bite the bystanders, and dica on the fourth day, in the utmost agony.

It is to be hoped, that the fair ones will take warn ning at this awful example, and that after bestowing a sympathetic tear on the unhappy sufferer, they will firmly resolve, never to let it come so far that any lover of theirs should be induced to bite his finger.

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Professional men have of late gone very far, in finding out a remedy for regular madness; but who can foresee to what such an irregular offspring might lead, when the very parent acts already in such an unaccountable manner?

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For upwards of two thousand years has poor Xantippe been held up in this wicked world as the pattern of a bad wife, and her name has become proverbial as such: but it is never too late to vindicate the character of one who has been calumniated, and we are fully authorized to think so on consideration of the following facts. She was of an honest, but not wealthy family in Athens, and Socrates married her without a dowry. It is not necessary to expatiate on his pugnose or his little grey eyes, for although Plato does certainly not draw a very flattering portrait of the philosopher, it is, after all, only the moral physiognomy which decides in the married state, and which deserves

attention.

Socrates strolled about in the streets from morning till night, stopping all the passengers, and pursuing the very mechanics into their shops, for the sake of telling them that they were a set of ignorant people, and when any one dared to dispute his words, he called him a blockhead, demonstrating and fighting all the while with his hands in the most ridiculous manner, occasionally tearing his hair, when agitating an important question. His disciples admired all this; but by others he was laughed at and despised, nay, kicked now and then; and in such cases would quietly assure them, that he minded it no more than the kicking of an ass. It is but natural to suppose, that such philosophical pastimes could not much amuse a lady of spirit; and a woman who has got such a husband, may well be allowed to show a little bad humour: but as soon as she became angry, he looked down upon her with contempt, and even provoked her through many satirical remarks. Xantippe was not very fond of show; but she possessed good manners, and very properly maintained, that one should either invite no friends, or else receive them decently; and what can be more reasonable? Yet Socrates invited once several Athenians of distinction, and provided hardly as much as would have served one-third of the company, besides getting provisions of the most ordinary kind. His wife said of course, that it would not do; but her philosophical husband replied very dryly, that-if his guests were moderate, there would be enough, and if they were not, he cared nothing about them. Had not the woman a right to say, in this case, that he should have inquired into their appetites and dispositions before he invited them.

fect of nature, viz.: her voice was none of the sweetest; It is true that Xantippe laboured under a trifling debut did this entitle her ungallant spouse to compare her to a goose, and to say, that just as geese were kept for the sake of their eggs, so he suffered her cackling for the sake of her children? Would any lady put up with such usage? Or is it not very clear that she was more sinned against than sinning?

Correspondence.

THEATRICAL COINCIDENCES.

(Continued from our former Numbers.)

TO THE EDITOR.

You must know, Sir, that I am very fond of reading to my family, while at tea, those interesting paragraphs which occur in most of the periodical publications of the present day, and I never omit the theatricals, of which I am very fond, but more particularly of local ones, as more immediately interesting, for perhaps they are treating of the merits or defects of some piece I and my family have witnessed, which serves to bring the subject again before us, and to promote conversation, both of which tend to pass on the time very agreeably, so that I hope you will not prevent us some future hours' conversation by withholding those interesting topics.

I once saw, in a periodical publication, an interesting way of appropriating the names of Farces to the names of a certain number of Plays, which were mentioned; as for instance, The Iron Chest was given, to which was fixed the farce of The Padlock, which certainly bears a great analogy to the Iron Chest. I immediately introduced the plan at my own table, and from the diversion it has afforded me, I am highly pleased with it. I will give you a short sketch of a theatrical conversation, which took place at my house the other evening. Having a few friends to tea, among whom were a cynical old bachelor, a thin old maid, a fat widow, and a young lady and gentleman, who entertain a strong partiality for each other; the lady rather sanguine though modest, and the gentleman rather witty though slow. My wife, who scarcely ever says any thing without maturely thinking on it, and myself, whom you may call what you please. I introduced my theatrical list, and the company being perfectly well-acquainted with the plan, I commenced with The World. Botheration, said the old bachelor. Well, said I, then a Cure for the Heart-ache. The Wedding Day, said the young lady, looking rather significantly across the table at the young gentleman. The Old Bachelor, begging my friend's pardon, who sat opposite me. fat widow, which was the first time I knew she enterThe Dead alive, said the tained a partiality for my friend. The Travellers. Not at home, said the widow again. I should think you were, The Citizen, said the young gentleman, who seemed to be said the old bachelor, retorting. The Man of the World. waiting for an opportunity. Rather The Liar, said the old bachelor, feelingly, having lately lost £200, which he lent to a gentleman of the ton, on no other security than the gentleman's honour.-The School for Scandal. The Boarding House, said the old maid. Much ado about Nothing. Three Weeks after Marriage, said the widow, looking at the old bachelor. It shan't be so with me, said the old gentleman.-Rob Roy, said I. The Falls of Clyde, said the young gentleman.-Man and Wife. Matrimony! exclaimed the widow.-The Rival Queens. The Devil to pay, to be sure, said the old bachelor.-Who wants a Guinea? The poor Soldier, said the young gentleman; they've had enow, 'od rot 'em, said the old one.-The Soldier's Daughter. My Grandmother, said the antiquated lady.-The poor GenA battle of an extraordinary and unprecedented na- Likely enough, said the old batchelor.-Thirty thousand. tleman. Raising the Wind, said the young gentleman. ture took place, lately, in the house of Mr. Collins, a The Prize, said the widow.-The Honey-moon. A Day respectable innkeeper at Naul, Ireland. The parties after the Wedding, said the old lady. Nay, it mostly concerned were, a hen of the game species, and a rat of ends on the Wedding Day, said the old bachelor.-As the middle size. The hen, in an accidental peram- I had not given the young lady an opportunity of speakbulation round a spacious room, accompanied by an ing for some time, I gave The Kiss. Animal Magnetonly chicken, the sole surviving offspring of a nume- ism, said the young gentleman. I would rather call it rous brood, was roused to madness by an unprovoked The agreeable Surprize, said the young lady, looking attack made by a voracious, cowardly rat, on her un- very earnestly at the young gentleman.-Jane Shore, suspecting, chirping companion. The shrieks of the The fair Penitent, said the young lady again. But I beloved captive, whilst dragging away by the enemy, here reminded her, I must have a Farce, for this reason, excited every maternal feeling in the affectionate bo- such a coincidence never took place in a play bill. Well, som of the feathered dame; she flew at the corner The Child of Nature, said the widow, for I like to have whence the alarm arose, seized the lurking enemy by a fellow-feeling for my sex.-The provoked Husband. the neck, writhed him about the room, put out one of The Deuce is in him, said the fat widow again.-The his eyes in the engagement, so fatigued her opponent Way to get married. Trip to Scotland, said the by repeated attacks of spur and bill, that in the space gentleman.-As you like it. Try again, said the young of about twelve minutes, during which time the con- lady, very quickly.-Wives as they were. Modern Anflict lasted, she put a final period to the nocturnal in tiques, said the old bachelor.-The Way to grow rich. vader's existence; nimbly turned round in wild tri-'Tis all a Farce, said the cynical old gentleman, while umphant distraction to her palpitating nestling, and there are so many rogues in the world!And thus, Sir, hugged it in her victorious bosom. we carried the conversation to a much greater length

In the mean time, her case cannot serve as a precedent in justification of modern shrews; because it is well known, that now-a-days husbands are never in the wrong; and that philosophers in particular, are now acting on infallible principles.

HEN versus RAT.

young

than my limits will permit me to detail. Then, at last. by the way of winding up, I gave The constant Couple, Well, said my wife, I think that's My Spouse and I Thus Sir, we amused ourselves till Past Ten q'Clock, at which time we broke up.

If, Sir, any of your readers feel inclined, I here subjoin a list, to be answered in the Kaleidoscope on the next day of publication.

1. Speed the Plough-2. The Country Girl.-3. The
Foundling of the Forest.-4. Smiles and Tean-
5. The Wheel of Fortune.-6. Romeo and Juliet.
7. The Jovial Crew.-8. The Castle Spectre.-9. Bel-
lisarius.-10. The Mirror-11. She stoops to conquer.
12. The Curfew.
I remain, Sir,

Liverpool, Aug. 4, 1820.

yours, &c. CHARLES DANGLE.

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introduced into your amusing and interesting paper the
Kalciodoscope, I think will become a very interesting
SIR,-The game of Coincidences, which you have
which are rapidly approaching. I conceive that if the
amusement, and assist in beguiling the long evenings
younger branches of families were to adopt this Game,
have sent you better answers to the Dramatic Coinci
it would be of more utiliiy than those recreations which
are generally resorted to. If none of your correspondents
dences, the following are much at your service. The
answers I have numbered to correspond to the queries
proposed, in the last number of your Kaleidoscope.
Yours respectfully,

J. W. P.
No. 1, answers to The Padlock, or Lock and Key.
2,
What next?

3,

4,

8,

Dead Alive.

Bombastes Furioso.

Honest Thieves.
All in good Humour.

The Camp.

Three Weeks after Marriage.

SENSITIVE NERVES.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR,-There certainly are people so dull, so slug gish, and with so little music in their souls, that the horn of the newsman, the knock of the milk woman, and the ringing of the baker's bell, sound in their Bœtian ears as the most charming trio.

and the sensitive; but treat their remarks as the They have no consideration whatever for the nervous mere fancies of modern effeminacy, and refer to the olden times of good Queen Bess, &c. &c.

been men of more refined feelings than the rest, and But let such scoffers be told that there have always let them remember the poor Sybarite of antiquity, who positively could not sleep when one of the rose leaves upon which he rested, happened to be doubly folded.

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The Drama.

THE ANTIQUARY.

[As performed at Drury Lane.]

The story commences with Lovel's arrival at Monkbarns, to visit Oldbuck, the Antiquary, where he also meets Sir Arthur Wardour, Isabella, Grizel Oldbuck, and Mary M'Intyre. The quarrel of the Baronet and the Antiquary then forms a part of the play, and Sir Arthur and his daughter take their leave, to return by the path along the beach. The expenditure of scenery on the striking incident of Isabella's danger is prodigal, and after successive views of the sea and the shore, the eye is led to the catastrophe. The stage represents the sands with the rising tide, as Sir Arthur and his daughter recede towards the cliffs, the waves roll after them, the fugitives ascend from rock to rock, and the sea swells with stormy rapidity, till the shore is covered lar with billows Isabella, her father, and Ochiltre, were seen hurrying from rock to rock, till they were stopped just above the waves, and when lights gleamed from the higher cliffs, and voices were heard through the gale, and Isabella was at length borne up to the summit of the cliff, the applause was renewed, and redoubled till the curtain fell. As this is the noblest piece of description in the original, it was the first effort of the machinist in the play. The story proceeds in close adherence to the novel: Lovel and Hector M'Intyre quarrel, and Hector is wounded in the duel which ensues; Sir Arthur is rained, and his affairs are retrieved by Lovel's liberality; Lovel is recognised as Lord Glenallan's son, and marries Isabella; and Oldbuck, his stately sister, and his submissive niece, are restored once more to the undisturbed enjoyment of Dulce Domum.

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To the bright sunshine of the feeling breast.
O! blest Benevolence! when urg'd by thee
To healing acts of heav'n-born charity.

Britannia! yes-tho' 'tis thy splendid boast
To have seen thy hanner wave on every coast,―
Thro' the four quarters of the world to have heard
Thy accents echo'd, and thy power rever'd :-
On Glory's plain tho' high thy trophies rise
In pyramidal triumph to the skies,
Yet heaven's own trumpet shall through Time proclaim
Thy social virtues brighter than thy fame,
This the fair field in which, almost divine,
Thy honour, name, and praise unrivall'd shine.
Is there a sufferance in this world of woe
Disease inflicts or helpless man can know,
For which thy healing hand and fostering care
Has not been prompt the balsam to prepare?
Turn where we will, the rising domes we see
And open doors of sacred Charity!
The aged, the lame, the speechless and the blind,
Youth, strength, sight, voice, in thee protection find!
Disease and Want the pallid look forego,
And, from thy healing bounty learn to glow.

When clad in storms, the Giants of the Frost
Condense the waves, and stride from coast to coast,
O'er realms aghast the darkening tempests roll,
And bring the Nations nearer to the Pole,
While shivering want and houseless nakedness
Shrink from the blast in agonised distress,
Direct to Heav'n the half-congealing eye,
And only ask the direful boon-to die;
"Tis thine to mitigate th' inclement rage,
And dark despair's excruciate pang assuage,
The sheltering dome, the cheering hearth provide,
And bid the agonies of want subside.

We have, however, not yet named Emery as Edie Ochiltre, the Blue gown Beggar; nor Blanchard, as Oh! still the glories of this race pursue, Caron, who were both admirable, though the latter And keep the brightest goal of heaven in view! bad but little to do; but Edie was the real hero, Let Ocean's Queen the Ocean's wealth dispense and received applause accordingly. We had also nearly omitted mentioning Mrs. Faucit's Elspeth. In Charity's divine munificence; The author of Waverly obviously finds an old wo-To houseless want her sheltering care impart, man indispensible, at least in his novels, and Elspeth And clasp the social virtues to the heart. is Meg Merrilies grown deaf, blind, and only not And though those social virtues now must claim dumb. Mr. Faucit played it with singular impres-One patron less among the first in name, siveness; but the fault of the play is, that it has Let mourning myriads mingle with the tear no leading character, and that the interest is borne Which strong emotion sheds upon his bier, by the incidents, not by the characters. Lord Glenallan is insipid and uninteresting, when he The generous aim to emulate his worth, might have been a most powerful agent, and Douster- Whose ample soul gave lustre to his birth, swivel is entirely left out; need we say that Miss And made him first,—divine Philanthropy ! Stephens sang most sweetly, or that Liston acted | In every patriot toil devised by thee. excellently? both are unnecessary, as the play was most favourably received. On the falling of the eurtain, "God save the King," and "Rule BritanDia" were sung by the whole operative corps, and previously to the play, Mr. Abbott delivered the following Address, written for the occasion by John Thelwall, Esq. The performance was for the benefit of the houseless and destitute.

Ask you where most Britannia's glory shines ?—
Tis not in treasures of her Indian mines;
Nor that her flag, by Neptune's self unfurl'd,
Wafts her proud commerce o'er the admiring world;
Tis not that, thundering o'er the fields of war,
Bellona like, she drives her conquering car;
'Tis not that Arts and Science o'er her isle
Diffuse the lustre of their radiant smile;
Nor that the Muse upon the rolls of fame
Inscribes a Milton's and a Shakspeare's name.
No, all that valour, wealth, and genius boast,
In one bright glory of her reign is lost:
For what are valour, genius, wealth, and fame,
The victor's laurel, or the poet's name,
Or all on glory's record e'er imprest,

LIVERPOOL THEATRE.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR,-Your correspondent G. N. in his observations on the performance of Henri Quatre, has laudably eulogized the managers for their taste and liberality, and, should he have witnessed the representation of the Antiquary, will, most assuredly, again have occasion to contribute his meed of approbation; indeed they are not alone entitled to his plaudits and support, but deserve them alike from every true friend to the drama-from every one who duly estimates the value of the stage.

due, to them he owes a vast debt of gratitude, and to them, not to himself, I ascribe almost all the pleasure I derived from my visit to the Theatre on Wednesday evening last. Had the author, or I should perhaps rather say, the compiler, done as much justice to the performers as the performers did to the author, he would have been more deserving of their exertions, and they more deserving of my applause; it is however, impossible to convert a bad character into a good one, therefore, where I cannot praise, I will not censure.

actress.

Mrs. M'Gibbon has often delighted me in a variety of difficult characters, but I never entertained the remotest idea that nature had been so uncommonly lavish in her gifts, as to bestow upon the inimitable representative of fair Imogine, the requisites necessary to personate the old, decrepit, care-worn Elspeth; such however is the fact and great as is the contrast, it is not greater than the When we see Imogine we may forget Elspeth, but when we see Elspeth we cannot forget Imogine. Her sitting attitudes were replete with all the characteristics of aged infirmity, and her execution of the part altogether, was the nearest approximation to life I can recollect having seen in characters of this description; if she could give to her utterance a less apparently artificial tone of voice, it would add considerably to the other beauties of this discriminating and highly finished piece of acting. One would almost imagine that Miss Hammersley was really the offspring of Apollo and Euterpe, nursed by Venus and the Graces, and by them sent down from high Olympus to charm us mortals here on earth. With such a person for Isabella Wardour, the songs could not possibly lose one iota of their influence and effect, but the dialogue was rendered almost useless, which is the more blameable, because Miss H. is by no means deficient in judgment and correct feeling. She generally speaks with too much rapidity, without sufficient modulation of voice and sometimes reads indifferently; none of which faults are defects of the mind, but result merely from negligence and timidity. I have also frequently thought her too inattentive to the business of the scene, and beg leave to apprize her that when she ought to be singing to the persons on the stage, it is not necessary to do so to the audience instead. Miss Isabella Wardour will likewise be pleased to remember, that few persons, except herself, would have appeared at breakfast, arrayed in the identical dress in which they have been rescued from a watery grave only a few hours preceding. Mr. M'Gibbon might profit by this hint. Miss Hammersley must permit me to enumerate her imperfections as well as her perfections, and should she by any chance peruse my remarks, she may rest assured they emanate from one actuated by no other motive than an ardent desire to promote her welfare.

The storm scene is, without exception, the finest production of art I ever saw it reflects equal credit upon the talents of Messrs. Harrison, Goore, and Thomas; and, exclusive of every other attraction attached to the Antiquary, must insure to the ma nagers a long succession of crowded houses. It our scene-shifters do not shortly become more expert, I shall be under the necessity of handling them rather severely.

Sir John Tobin would render his play-going friends a most essential service by ordering a few police officers to attend in various parts of the Theatre, to preserve peace and quietness among a very low species of the dandy tribe, who generally infest the pit, to the great annoyance of all To enter into a minute detail of the plot or the sober-minded people. Having had the misfortune incidents of a play deriving its origin from a work to be seated near two very noisy, but worthy scions so justly admired, and so universally read, as the of this hermaphroditish race, I am desirous, if poss Antiquary, would be superfluous and uninterest-sible, to avoid being so unpleasantly situated in fuing; suffice it therefore to observe, that the piece itself possesses very little merit, and owes its principal interest to the scene-painters, machinists, and a good singer or two. To these auxiliaries, as the author may perhaps term them, all his thanks are

ture, which I cannot do unless the evil be effectually removed by authority, or a reformation in the ma ners of the enemies to the enjoyment of

Yours, truly, DRAMATICUS,

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Time is the most undefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present becomes the past, even while we attempt to define it, and like the flash of lightning, at once exists and then expires. Time is the measurer of all things; but is itself immeasurable, and the great discloser of all things, but is itself undisclosed. Like space it is incomprehensible, because it has no limit, and it would be still more so if it had. It is more obscure in its source than the Nile, and in its termination than the Niger; and advances like the slowest tide, but retreats like the swiftest torrent. It gives wings to pleasure, but feet of lead to pain, and lends expectation a curb, but enjoyment a spur. It robs beauty of her charms, to bestow them on her picture, and builds a monument to merit, but denies it a house; it is the transient and deceitful flatterer of falsehood, but the tried and final friend to truth. Time is the most subtle yet the most insatiable of depredators, and by appearing to take nothing, is permitted to take all, nor can it be satisfied, until it has stolen the world from us, and us from the world. It constantly flies, yet overcomes all things by flight, and although it is the present ally, it will be the future conqueror of death. Time, the cradle of hope, but the grave of ambition, is the stern corrector of fools, but the salutary counsellor of the wise; bringing all they dread to the one, and all they desire to the other; but like Cassandra, it warns us with a voice that even sages discredit too long, and the silliest believe too late. Wisdom walks before it, opportunity with it, and repentance behind it; he that has made it his friend, will have little to fear from his enemies; but he that has made it his enemy, will have little to hope from his friends.

NATURAL CURIOSITY.

Orthographical Transmogrification (a fact.)-A blacksmith, in the vicinity of Maidstone, lately made a few weeks ago, in lighting her fire, threw down a large putting steel to the iron points of the instrumentsCatharine Makepeace, Quarry Hill, near Brancepeth, out a bill against one of his customers, in which a charge was intended to be made for steeling two mattocks, i. c. piece of coal for the purpose of breaking it into more convenient pieces, and in gathering them up, observed But the son of Vulcan, who had been more used to upon one of the fragments something about the size of a wielding a sledge-hammer than studying Doctor Johnsparrow's egg. She had the curiosity to make a small son, and who used more chalk than ink, actually wante opening into this oval substance, when she was astonish- the following item :-" to stealing two mad ducks, 2 ed to find that it contained a living creature. Whenrather an extraordinary charge for an honest pas. her husband came home, they examined it farther. The taking blacksmith. hole which she had made was already closed up with a whitish membrane. The husband made a larger open- within the last six months, whose ages, when united, Longevity. At Coniston, there have six persons died ing, and took the animal out of its imprisonment upon amount to 515.-George Bowness, 88-Bridget Woodhis hand. He described it as having feet, and resem-end, 91-Elizabeth Robinson, 82-George Dixon, 78bling a glow-worm. This was nearly a month ago. Jane Hunter, 86-Isabella Parker, 90. This morning, in our presence, the animal was again taken out of its covering, by a medical gentleman, in Lately, at Norton-St.-Philip's, James Rose, who is whose possession it now remains. If the man's descrip- quite blind, beat William Collier, whose sight is per tion was correct, the animal has undergone a consider-fectly good, in the race of a mile on the turnpike-road, able change. The hind half is one crust of an oval to the surprise of a numerous assemblage of spectators. shape; the fore half composed of five or six circular horny rings connected by moveable membranes, is of a Iconical shape. The animal, when touched, moves its conical part to any side, and is thus capable of rotatory motion. Beside the animal, we saw an envelope covered with hair, and shrivelled so that it would be difficult to say what it had been. This, however, we think, justifies the description which the man gave of its first appearance. Application has been made for information to the first Naturalists of the present day, so that the public may expect shortly a more enlightened account of this aged inhabitant of the earth. The coal of about twelve fathoms. Our opinion, in the meanwas taken out of Woodey-field coal-pit, from the depth time, is, that this creature had wrapped itself up in the this forest had been inundated and covered by one superAntediluvian forest of Woodey-field for a winter, that incumbent stratum after another, and that the winter, against which the animal had sheltered, lasted for ages; where it enjoyed the merest life, far removed below the world's racket.Durham Chronicle.

Last year, a pair of swallows came into the porter's lodge, at Newbattle Abbey, near Dalkeith, the seat of the Marquis of Lothian, and built their nest there upon the top bar of a clothes-horse, which was hung up against the wall; the young ones were hatched, and flew away; the nest was suffered to remain, and upon the first appearance of swallows this year, a male bird again entered the apartment, and took a survey of the nest, with which it seemed much pleased; he shortly after returned with another bird, who at first appeared very timid, but soon acquired as much assurance as the mate; they repaired the nest, and the writer of this has seen it with the young ones in it. What renders the above circumstance more remarkable is, that the porter and his wife live and sleep in the same room.-Tyne Mercury.

Two rein-deer were brought last November from Lapland, and are living at liberty at a country scat at Ghent. They bear the difference of climate and the variation of temperature well, and have produced a wellformed female fawn. This is the first example of these animals having become tame, and producing their species so far from their own country.

A match for Caleb Quotem. There is a person resident in a small seaport in Wales, who deserves well of and curious atmospherical phenomena which are occaBeautiful Phenomena. One of those very singular his country." He occupies and discharges the duties sionally seen amongst the Hartz Mountains in Hanover, of the following thirteen offices, with great regularity, and have once or twice been observed on Souter Fell, in and to the satisfaction of all who have occasion to trans- Cumberland, has been seen in Huntingdonshire. About act business with him.-He is, in the first place, clerk to the collector of the customs,-then, clerk to the excise half-past 4 o'clock on Sunday morning, July 16th, the office, and clerk to the justices. In addition to these sun was shining in a cloudless sky, and the light vapours his clerkships, he is parish clerk for the English service, arising from the river Ouze, were hovering over a little -and parish clerk for the Welsh service; clerk to the hill near St. Neot's, when suddenly the village of Great coaches, and clerk to the packets. He also keeps a and its different grass-fields, were clearly and distinctly Paxton, its farm-houses, barns, dispersed cottages, trees, lodging-house; is a notary public,-an auctioneer,-visible in a beautiful aerial picture, which extended from collector of the King's taxes, a sexton!-Caleb was only Quotem; Mr. Owens is Factotum.

A copper mine has lately been discovered near Kirkcudbright, the ore is of a superior quality, and the vein is so extensive, that, although the excavation does not exceed nine feet in depth, about fifty tons were soon raised.

A German journal asserts, that an artist at Cemberg, in Prussia, has constructed a watch which imitates the human voice, and answers questions in German and Polish, besides executing musical airs.

east to west about 400 yards. Nothing could exceed the astonishment and admiration of the spectator as he looked at this surprising phenomenon from a gentle declivity in an opposite direction, at the distance of half a mile, or his regret at its disappearance in about ten minutes. Cambridge Chronicle.

A plant of Lilium Japonicum is at present in flower (for the first time in Scotland) in the garden of Mr. Falconer, of Carlowrie, introduced from China by John Stewart, Esq. of Binny, commander of the Lady Melville, East Indiaman, in 1819.

To Correspondents.

The narrative of A SUBSCRIBER and the verses of A. E. shall appear as soon as possible.

FLOWERY COMPOSITIONS. Solicitous as we feel to afford scope in our columns for the display and expansion of the original talents of our fellow. townsmen, we have devoted a much larger portio of this day's publication to the story of Henry and Helen" than we should have ventured todo under other circumstances; as candour obliges us to express our fear that the extreme length of the narrative will scarcely be compensated, in the opinions of a majority of our readers, by its intrinsic merit or originality. This writer is by no means destitute of talent; but he has much to unlearn; and the pruning-knife of a judicious friend, of mature years,-one, who, to borrow an old figure of speech, does not carry more sail than ballast, might be freely applied with great advantage to the story of "Henry and Helen." In our judgment it is extremely puerile, and betrays bad taste, to interlard any composition such a profusion of quotations, as those to be found in the work under consideration; such auxiliaries ought to be sparingly used, and never adopted, un less they impart peculiar force or significance to the sentiment, in aid of which they are called in. We remember a whimsical farce, in which one character is introduced, who can scarcely speak without taking most unmerciful liberties with the poets: thus he exclaims, "How do you do," as Shakspeare sayi A fine morning," as the divine Milton observes, &c. &c. What we have here said, is in the spi of friendship to the author, and ought to be received in the same spirit; some of our Theatrical Critics might also profit by this hint to TITYRUS QUILLET and, we beg to suggest to DRAMATICUS that his superfine compliment to Miss HAMMERSLEY may be mistaken by the lady herself, and perhaps by the public, for irony. She possesses considerable merit, and ought not to be put to the blush by overcharged

or,

66

encomium.

SWIMMING FEATS.-We regret that the letter of F.Py did not reach us in time for this day's pub. lication.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS'S MEMOIR which has been pre pared a fortnight, is once more postponed, in prefer ence to dividing it between two successive publications. The Friend to whom we are indebted for the interesting original paper, on the "Structure of the Heart, and several prior and valuable communications: will con tinue, we trust, to favour us with his correspondence.

Printed, published, and sold

BY EGERTON SMITH AND CO.

Liverpool Mercury Office. Sold also by John Bywater and Co. Pool-lane; Messrs. Evans, Chegwin and Hall, Castle-street; Mr. Thos Smith, Paradise-street; Mr. Warbrick, Public Library, Lime-street; Mr. G. P. Day, Newsman, Dale-street; and Mr. John Smith, St. James's-road, for ready money only.

1

No. 8.-NEW SERIES.

OR,

Literary and Scientific Mirror.

Literary Notices.

TALES OF MY LANDLORD.

SIR WALTER SCOTT DECLARED NOT TO BE
THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY, &c.

☞ la addition to the article on this subject, given

in the sixth number of our New Series, we now lay before our readers the following letter address. ed to the editor of the Champion.

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the works were fit for publication several years before they made their appearance; which may account, in some measure, for the unexampled rapidity with which they followed each other from the press. If you deem these observations, Mr. Editor, worthy of a place in the Champion, they perhaps may be regarded as useful to those who think the gratification of a natural curiosity relative to such as have contributed to their instructive amusement, not without the pale T. H.

Biographical Notices.

MEMOIR OF THE LATE
RIGHT HON. SIR JOSEPH BANKS, BART. G.C.B.
PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY.

Sir Joseph Banks is said to have been descended from a noble Swedish family; but, whatever truth

there may be in this assertion, it is certain that he did not trace his pedigree higher than the reign of Edward III. when his ancestor, Simon Banke, marNewton in Yorkshire. By this marriage, the manor ried the daughter and heir of Caterton, of Newton, in the wapentake of Staincliffe, came to

of

the family of Banke, with whom it remained until it was sold in the middle of the seventeenth century.

But I hope the difficulty will cease, when I mention the name of one who was so eminent in the Church, and in the Republic of Letters, being a colleague with the late Dr. Blair, in the High Church, Edinburgh (but a much younger man), and who was, SIR,It seems now taken for granted also, at the same time, Professor of Natural that Walter Scott is the author of these Philosophy and Rhetoric: a man of very of utility. admirable Romances, the Tales of my Land- superior talents and attainments, and highly lord, and the subsequent works of a similar esteemed by all who were acquainted with kind, which are all attributed to the same him. Literary men of his standing, and pen. But, so far as I have heard, Sir W. some of his pupils who are now in London, Scott has not directly owned it, but is either can bear witness of this. About twentysilent, or evades the question when it two years ago he left Edinburgh, and has is asked. Occasionally he has denied it. ever since been in retirement. Although Once, in particular, Sir W. Scott having he has lived in privacy so long, he has not dined in company with the Prince Regent, been inactive, which the Reviews and his when the toasts were going round after anonymous works might amply testify. Havdinner, the Prince observed that Sir Walter's ing no official duties to occupy his time, his glass was not full. and pointing to it, said, mind, from intense study on abstruse subthat is not the Tapet Hen. Sir W. Scott jects, would occasionally turn for relaxation being thus particularly noticed, considered to lighter themes. When he was engaged himself called upon to say something, and, in the composition of the celebrated Tales with some preface and apology, denied that of My Landlord, and his other popular he was the author of the recent Romance works, he visited privately the south and from which the allusion was taken. If Sir west of Scotland, and also the parts of W. Scott refuses the honour, who then, it England where some of the scenes are laid, suitable preparatory education, he was sent to study Sir Joseph was born December 13, 1743. After a may be asked, is the author? Some have to obtain a more accurate knowledge of at the Univeristy of Oxford. In every branch of gone so far in his praise, as to assert roundly, some facts on which history is either silent liberal knowledge, he made great proficiency: natuthat no other man in the present day is ca- or obscure. Out of the materials thus col-ment, and at a very early age he conceived an ral history in particular engaged his fondest attachpable of producing such works, and with lected, his fertile imagination and great li- ardent ambition to promote this great science, by such facility, too, as Walter Scott. On the terary skill has produced, for the amuse-industry alone are capable. those eminent exertions of which genius, fortune, and other hand, many men (and no mean men ment, gratification, and instruction of the either) assert as boldly, that he never wrote public, works far surpassing those of any of sentence of them. It shall be my endea- his contemporaries. our to show who really is the author, In short, without further preface, I shall without in the least intending to detract venture to assert, without much fear of From the great merit of Sir W. Scott. I contradiction, that the mysterious author maware that it will not now be an easy Waverley, Rob Roy, and the Antiquary, of task to persuade the public to transfer their the Tales of My Landlord, Ivanhoe, &c. preconceived opinion from Sir W. S. in is no other than Dr. Greenfield. Some of England, collections had been formed, which were

of

From this Simon Banke, Sir Joseph was the Joseph Banks, Esq. was High Sheriff of Lincolnshire eighteenth in lineal descent. His grandfather, in the year 1736, and some time Member of Parliafortune, which was inherited by the subject of this ment for Peterborough. He possessed an ample memoir.

At the time when Sir Joseph Banks began to cultito emerge from that neglect into which the exclusive vate the study of natural history, it was beginning

pursuit of natural philosophy bad, for the last hunit an arrangement, and a nomenclature; and his dred years, thrown it. Linnæus had produced for pupils were travelling as naturalists, into every region of the earth, with an ardour not less zealous and intrepid than if they had gone to propagate a new religion, or to rifle the treasures of Mexicau monarchs. In France, Buffon was beginning to render the study of natural history fashionable. In

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