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and were led with a white chariot, crowned and consecrated to the same god. We also sacrifice horses, but in a different manner-in matches against time. It is quite time such matches should be prevented.

The four bronze horses of Lysippus have been as great travellers as if composed of bone and muscle; for they were first forced from Greece to adorn the church of St. Sophia, at Constanti nople; they were thence conveyed to the shrine of St. Mark, at Venice, in 1206; then they adorned the imperial palace of the Thuilleries; and when Buonaparte was outmastered and the plunder of nations restored to their right owners, the horses found their way back to Venice.

It was very ingenious in Miss Jane Porter, making her sentimental hero, Thaddeus of Warsaw, so very partial to his horse. Thaddy was, however, outdone by Algernon Sidney, who, when in France, being one day hunting with the king, and mounted on a fine English horse, the form and spirit of which caught the king's eye, he received a message, that he would be pleased to oblige the king with his horse as his own. He answered, he did not choose to part with him. The king, determined to have no denial, gave orders to tender him a sum of money, and to seize the horse; which being made known to Sidney, he instantly took a pistol, and shot him dead, saying, that his horse was born a free creature, had served a free man, and should not be mastered by a king of slaves! Would Charles the Second, a pensioner of France, have dared to speak and act thus ?

Behold a remarkable instance of the fidelity of a horse. Dio Cassius tells us, that when Severus disbanded the prætorian guards, granting them their lives, but commanding them to quit their horses, and retire one hundred miles from Rome; one of the horses followed his old master, throwing down and trampling under foot all those who endeavoured to stop him; insomuch that the unhappy soldier, finding his horse would not, by any means, leave him, killed him, and running himself through with the same sword,

fell dead by him. The same historian adds, that the faithful horse betrayed a kind of joy in dying by his master's hand.

The following anecdote, extracted from some unpublished Memoirs, will expose the folly and the rage of calembourg. Many such anecdotes will not, however, cure the evil, which appears indigenous in this country:

"The Marchioness of Antremont, afterwards known as the Baroness de Bourdic, was one of the handsomest women in France; when the smallрох, which attacked her in her 25th year, threatened her life and entirely destroyed her beauty. As she recovered from the cruel malady, and beheld in her faithful mirror the frightful change, chagrin nearly terminated a life which disease had spared. Madame d'Antremont retired to the solitude of a distant chateau, and vowed she would never more expose her person to human observation. She had been the point of attraction in the most brilliant assemblies; how dare she again appear, to be slighted and shunned! Her conversation had been the charm of society; but now her voice was cracked, harsh, and insufferable. Her husband, who esteemed and pitied, but not loved her, died. This circumstance roused her, and she determined to combat the despair which the loss of her beauty had occasioned. Her efforts were successful, and her wit regained all its brilliant and fascinating ascendency. She was again sought in marriage, and the Baron de Bourdic became her husband. He was opulent and sickly, and in his will, which wanted only his signature, he made his wife sole heiress of all his property. After five years of attentive nursing and calm enjoyments, he fell into a state of extreme languor, and it required all the friendly ingenuity of his Lady to persuade him that his sufferings were only accidental and temporary. M. de Bourdic was proprietor of the Clos du Patron, near Nismes, famous for its exquisite wine, and the object of attraction of numerous visitors. One day he was attacked by an accès of his disorder, and with his usual delicacy, with

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out saying a word to the Baronne, he signed his will. The same day some neighbouring Seigneurs arrived, at the Chateau on their way to the chace, and from the steps they cried out to the Baronne, Voici, an army come to drink the wine du Patron.' The Baronne, who had a rage for calembourg, replied with a playful smile, A little lower, gentlemen, if you please-le patron est à fond de cale'-(the patron is in the hold.) The generous invalid overheard through a door accidentally left open this poor joke, uttered without any malicious intention, but which pained him to the heart. Such a calembourg, made in such a situation, convinced him that, ou fonde de cœur, his wife detested him. His fever increased, and his last hour approached. He ordered his will to be brought,-he tore it in pieces, and enclosed the fragments in an envelope, on which his trembling hand wrote these last words Le Baron de Bourdic avait destiné tous ses biens à celle que, pendant cinq ans, il avait crue son amie. Le patron n'a connu son erreur que lorsqu'il a été à fond de Cale. Comme il faut étre just avant tout, il a détruit son testament." Thus for a miserable piece of wit, a jeu de mot, a good wife and a clever woman lost the brilliant inheritance which an affectionate husband had destined for her enjoyment."

A LESSON FOR DUELLISTS.

Two friends happening to quarrel at a tavern, one of them, a man of a very hasty disposition, insisted on the other's fighting him the next morning. The challenge was accepted, on condition that they should breakfast together, previous to their going to the field, at the house of the challenged. When the challenger arrived the next morning, according to appointment, he found every preparation for breakfast, and his friend, his wife, and children, all ready to receive him. Their repast being over, and the family withdrawn, without any hint of the fatal purpose having transpired, the challenger asked the other if he was ready to attend. 'No, Sir,' replied he, not till we are more upon a par; that amiable woman, and those six innocent children, who just now breakfasted

with us, depend solely upon my life for their subsistence; and till you can stake something equal, in my estimation to the welfare of seven persons dearer to me than the apple of my eye, I cannot think we are equally matched.' "We are not, indeed!" replied the other, giving him his hand, and they became firmer friends than ever.

An Absent Man.-A rich individual resiChange, went home, his mind occupied ding in the Chausée d'Antin, leaving with the transactions of the morning. Finding the doors wide open, he ascended the stairs, passed thro' the ante-chamber, and the table covered, and the plate exposed at arrived in the dining-room, where he found the mercy of the first person who might enter as he had, but with different intentions. "The rascals !" muttered he, " the doors One might take away the house!" These all open my plate exposed to pillage! last words inspired him with the idea of giving a lesson to his servants. Our distrait gathered up the plate and filled his pockets the bottom of the room, and a lady and with it. At this moment a door opened at gentleman, seeing the man disposing of the plate in the manner just described, began to call " thieves" with all their might. The house was instantly in a bustle; the sergentleman, who then perceived his mistakę. vants ran and laid hold of the astonished He had been deceived by the resemblance of the apartments to his own. His confusion may be imagined; and his neighbours. subject for joke and laughter.—Exam. Aug. found in this instance of abstraction only

SOMNOLENCY.-A singular affection has the Infirmary of Mentz. This man slept been observed in a mendicant, aged 79, in without waking 80 days; a little wine or broth was poured down his throat at intervals On the eightieth day he expired.

Paris, Aug. 4.-All Paris yesterday poured its thousands towards the Champs de Mars, where Mademoiselle Garnerin was parachute. At half past 8, the parachute

to ascend in a balloon, and descend en

and basket were suspended; and Mademoiselle G. a woman about 40 years of age, dressed in white, took her seat in the baswards St. Denis. It was not without diffiket, and the balloon went off beautifully toculty that we could trace her progress, as it was nearly dark when she had been away 10 minutes: but with a glass I was able to see her release the parachute, and descend The number of spectators in the Champ de near St. Denis, at a distance of 3 leagues Mars alone might be 20,000, and in the environs more than 100,000. The day was excessively hot, and the price of a glass of water upon the ground was at one time 25

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[We are indebted for the following sweet lines to the Author of the Duke of Mantua, a Tragedy. It is pleasing to receive such an acknowledgment of anonymous regards. The first three verses are an imitation of the Bard of Ayr.-Lit. Gaz.]

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MARY.

Each cheering smile thy cheeks had worn, Then linger'd but for me;

But now the mask's thrown off, 1 scorn

To waste one thought on thee,-Mary.
Thine image once came o'er my heart
Like sunshine 'mid the storm;
But now its light must hence depart,
That beam no more can warm,-Mary.
No more thy smile around me plays,
And darkness turns to light,-
As soon might yon dull meteor-blaze
Dispel the gloom of night,—Mary.
That rosy smile, to others given,

My heart esteems no more;
Its hue, pure as the blush of heaven,
No power can e'er restore,—Mary.

It falls upon my withered breast.
But cannot cheer it now;

The fondest love we once confess'd,

Now leaves no quickening glow,—Mary.

And yet as bright, as sunny still,

Those smiles break o'er the soul;
But, oh! 'tis darkness visible,—
They round my bosom roll,-Mary.
Passion's wild burst-the stormy brow,
Their wrath I'd sooner brave,

Than sunny smiles that mock my woe,

Like flowers that deck the grave,—MaryOh, hadst thou still to me been true,

As once thy lips confess'd,
No power had torn-as now I do—
Their inage from my breast,-Mary.
But thou art false-inconstant thou-
The rest I need not tell;
Another's arms await me now-
For ever fare thee well-Mary.

ECHOES.

SOUND leapt from the tower, and quiver'd

in air,

For the sexton his dreaming had started; He tapt at a window like one for his fair,

For his chemical breath
Was not melted in death,

Or his fond reminiscences parted:
Didst thou call for thy bride?
His sweet Echo replied;

And she ask'd it so gently and like him :

The clapper upwent,
Like a spirit intent,

And Fancy said-Music shall strike him.

Music struck him aloud, and he sought the sweet spot

That had given him life and affection; And he call'd for his Echo, but answer'd

she not :

Like a mourner he mourn'd!
But no Echo return'd!

For the air had exchanged its direction.

Art thou hid in the cave,

Or delay'd on the wave,

Soft mimic, and lady? he sounded.
Ah! no comfortress hung
On the questions he sung,
And Silence his essence surrounded.

So a youth will go forth on the wings of his hope,

And wander abroad in his leisure;
His heart is elated, and ventures its scope
Till he catches the eyes

He would claim as his prize,
And promise abundance of pleasure :
But Hope is like Sound,
Which his Echo hath found,

But loses when pleading to bless her;
For he cannot renew
Love's last gentle adieu,
Of his vanishing lovely possessor.
J. R. PRION.

Islington, July 1, 1823.

NEW WORKS.

Costumes of Sweden, folio, 31. 38.-Ouseley's Travels in the East, vol. 3. 4to. 81. 13s, 6d.--Dibdin's Cassano Library, with Index to Bibliotheca Spenceriana, imperial 8vo. 11. 1s. large paper 11. 16s.-Watt's Bibliotheca Britannica, Part 9, 4to. 21s.-Quin's Visit to Spain, 8vo. 12s.-The manuscript of 1814, written at the command of Napoleon, 8vo. 12s.-James's Naval History of Great Britain, vol. 3, 8vo. 14s.-Historical Illustrations of Quentin Durward, post 8vo. 78.-Ellen Gray, by Dr. Macleod, 8vo. 3s. Sherwood's Lady of the Manor, 12mo. 78.

-Tytler's Life of Sir Thomas Craig, 12mo. 9s.-Pott's Charge, 1823, 8vo. 7s. 6d.Della's Sermons on the Lord's Prayer, 12mo, 4s. 6d.-Irving's Four Orations, &c. 8vo. 12s-The Christian Armed against Infidelity, by the Author of Body and Soul, 12mo. 5s.-Welbeloved's Three Letters to Wrangham on Unitarianism, 8vo. 88. 6d.— Swan's Inquiry into the Action of Mercury on the Living Body, 8vo. 4s.-Swinton's Considerations on the Questions of Law, 8vo. 48.-Damm's Greek Lexicon to Homer and Pindar, Part 1, 4to. 10s. 6d. 8vo. 78. 6d.

SPIRIT

OF THE

ENGLISH MAGAZINES.

BOSTON, OCTOBER 15, 1823.

POPULAR TALES AND ROMANCES OF THE NORTHERN NATIONS.*

(Literary Gaz.)

THIS is one of the most original and pleasing contributions to our legendary lore which has lately been given to the public; for though few of the incidents which compose the stories are absolutely new, they are drawn from unaccustomed sources, and there is an air and manner about them which throws them into a distinct and separate class from the common run of ghost and fairy tales.

"These tales (says the translator in a preface) do not pretend to be a picture of human nature or human manners; they are either imitations of early traditions, or the traditions themselves, amplified by some modern writer, and must be judged of in reference to such origin. Stories of this kind form an important feature in the literature of the Germans, who seem to be the authenticated historians of Satan in all his varieties of name and attribute. Of such tales, no small portion has been derived from the Harz Mountains; nor is this to be wondered at,-the belief in supernatural agents has its native home among mountains, and deserts, and snows, and in short wherever society is broken into small masses, and detached from the frequent intercourse of the general world. Scepticism is the inhabitant of cities as credulity is of solitude; and the man who was an unbeliever of all things amidst crowds, 7 ATHENEUM VOL. 14.

will become a believer of all things in loneliness.

"The legends of these volumes have been gathered from various sources,and of course will be found to have charac ters as various. The elegant and playful Musäus has nothing at all in common with the dark, wild fancy of La Motte Fouqué; just as little similarity is there between Veit Weber and the author of the Freischutz and though supernatural agency forms the basis of all, the superstructures vary with the varying characters of the authors. - -

:

"It must however (he truly adds) be allowed that, with the Germans, fancy has had too much sway, for it has seldom been under the guidance of sound taste, and the consequence is, that the multitude of their original fictions is disgraced by the most barbarous absurdities. The same may, in some measure, be said of their modern romance; but at the same time the reader cannot fail to be delighted with the variety and richness of its inventions, diablerie with the Germans being as inexhaustible as the fairyism of the Eastern world."

There are nearly a score of Tales; but the Spectre Barber is so much more amusingly told than any of the others, that we shall abridge from it our exemplifications of these Northern Romances. It thus begins:

3 vols. London 1823.

THE SPECTRE BARBER.

"MANY years ago there lived in the good town of Bremen, a rich merchant, named Melchior, who was wont to stroke his chin and smile scornfully whenever he heard the parsou read in the gospel of the rich man, whom, in comparison with himself, he regarded as a mere pedlar. In those rude times there prevailed a species of luxury as well as at present, though the people then looked more than their descendants to things of solid worth, and Melchior was so wealthy, that he had the floor of his banquetting room paved with dollars. Although the fellow citizens and friends of our merchant were much displeased at this piece of ambitious display, as they called it, yet it was, in reality, meant more as a mercantile speculation, than a mere boast. The cunning citizen was well aware, that those who envied and censured his apparent vanity would serve to spread reports of his wealth, and, by that means, add to his credit. His aim was completely attained; the idle capital of old dollars, wisely exposed to view in the hall, brought a large interest, by means of the silent bond for payment which it gave in all the merchant's undertakings. It became, however, at last a rock on which the welfare of the house was wrecked.

"Old Melchior died suddenly, from swallowing too much or too hastily, of some renovating cordial at a city feast, without being able to settle his affairs; and left all his property to his only son, in the full bloom of youth, who had just attained the age fixed by law for entering into possession of his inheritance. Francis was a noble fellow, endowed by nature with excellent qualities. He was well made, strong and robust, with a jovial, happy disposition, as if old French wine and hung beef had largely contributed to call him into existence.

"Health glowed on his cheeks, and content and youthful cheerfulness shone in his dark eyes. He was like a vigorous plant, which needs only water and a poor soil to thrive well, but which, in rich land, shoots into wasteful luxuriance without bearing fruit. The father's wealth became, as often happens,

the ruin of the son. He had scarcely began to taste the pleasure of being the sofe possessor and master of a princely fortune, when he did all in his power to get rid of it, as if it were a heavy burthen. He imitated the rich man in the scriptures to a tittle, "and fared sumptuously every day."

By this means, like Timon, the hero soon wastes his riches, and is reduced to poverty.

--"At first he was like a drunkard, just awoke from intoxication, nearly unconscious of what had happened to him; and afterwards, like most unfor tunate spendthrifts, he lived on, and felt neither grief nor shame. He had luckily saved a few relics of his mother's jewels from the general wreck of his fortune! and they kept him for a time from absolute want.

"He took lodgings in one of the most obscure parts of the town, in a narrow street, into which the beams of the sun rarely penetrated, but on the very longest days, when they glanced for a short time over the high roofs. Here he found all he wanted in his present circumscribed situation. The frugal table of his landlord satiated his hunger; at the fire side he was protected from the cold; and the roof and walls sheltered. him from rain and wind. From one enemy, however, ennui, neither the roof nor the walls, neither the fire-side, nor the temperate enjoyments of the table, could always protect him. The crowd of worthless parasites had disappeared with his wealth, and his former friends knew him no longer. Reading was not, at that time, a general amusement nor did the people understand how to kill their hours with those brain-sick creations of the fancy, which are usually spun from the shallowest heads. There were neither sentimental, pedagogical, psychological, nor comical romances; neither popular, moral, nor entertaining tales, neither family nor monastic histories, no Robinsons either new or old; and the whole tribe of tiresome, dreaming novel inditers had not then begun to spoil good paper, and impose on printers the ungrateful task of labouring for

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