phers have loved to pass their lives in repose and contemplation. Howett's Book of the Seasons. ADIEU TO THE BIRDS. SWEET poets of the woods, a long adieu! ITALIAN HOAXING. IN the days of Scheggia, Monoco, and Pilacca, (who were choice friends and boon companions, and all three masters in the art of hoaxing), there was one Neri Chiaramontesi, a man of good birth and easy circumstances, but cunning and crafty withal as any in our city in his time; nor was there any who took greater delight in playing off his wit upon other persons. This worthy gentlemen frequently found himself in company with the three before mentioned, at the table of my Lord Mario Tornaquinci, a knight of the Golden Spur, of great wealth and worship; and upon these occasions he had not scrupled to perform divers feats at the expense of his companions, for which they did not dare attempt to take any revenge, although very much to their displeasure-above all, to that of Master Scheggia, who murmured greatly at being made the butt of so many shafts of ridicule. Once upon a time it so happened, that as they all were chirping together round a good fire at the house of this worshipful cavalier, (it being then in the depth of winter), discoursing with one another about this thing and that, says Neri to Scheggia, "Here's a crown of gold for you, if you will go directly to the house of La Pellegrina, (who was a famous courtezan in those days, and had come from Bologna), habited as you are now, but having first besmeared your face and hands with ink, and present to her this pair of gloves, without uttering a syllable." -"And here's a brace of crowns for you," said Scheggia, if you will sally forth, armed cap-a-pie in white armour, with a lance on your shoulder, to Ceccherino the mercer's shop"-(which was at that time a noted place of rendezvous for all the rich young gallants of Florence)." In the name of grace," replied Neri, laughing, "hand me up the two crowns." "Content!" answered Scheggia; "but hear me-I require, moreover, that whatsoever persons are present, you pretend to fall into a furious passion with them, and threaten that you will make minced meat of them all.""Trust me for that," replied Neri; "only let me see the money." Whereupon Scheggia forthwith drew out of his purse two crowns, fresh from the mint, and putting them into the hands of their host, "There they are,' says he, "in pawn, ready to be made over to you, as soon as you have accomplished the undertaking." Neri, full of glee, thinking full surely that the two crowns were his own already, (and, which he valued more highly than any ten he possessed, thinking what a good jest he should have at the expense of one who had parted with them so lightly), began forthwith to harness on his armour-of which there were suits enough in the good knight's mansion to fit out a hundred troopers, he being a great friend of the elder Lorenzo de Medici, who at that time was at the head of affairs in Florence; and, while he was so employed, Scheggia, taking Monaco and Pilucca aside, told them what he would have them do, and sent them about their business. At length, master Neri having laced his helmet, took his lance on his shoulders, and sallied forth in the direction of Ceccherino's shop; but he was forced to move slowly, both by reason of the weight of his armour, and of the greaves being somewhat too long, by which he was very much encumbered in lifting his feet from the ground. Meanwhile, Monaco and Pilucca had gone upon their respective missions-the one to the shop of the haber dasher, the other to Grechetto's fencing-school, (which was then held in the tower hard by the old marketplace) and both affirmed to the by-standers that Neri Chiaramontesi had gone out of his senses, and attempted to kill his own mother, and thrown all his household goods into a well-and that he had at last armed himself cap-a-pie in one of my Lord Tornaquinci's suits, and, with his lance in rest, was driving all the people helter-skelter before him. To which Pilucca (who was at the fencing-school) added, how he had heard him swear a terrible oath that he would go to Ceccherino's shop, to give him a drubbing,-upon which the greater part of the young men who were present ran out of school to see the fun, with so much the greater delight, as that same haberdasher was an object of general dislike, on account of his ignorance and presumption, and having the most cursed and slanderous tongue in all Florence-notwithstanding which, his shop was the resort of noble and honourable gallants, to whom Monaco was at the same time busy in relating various other particulars of the extravagance and madness of Neri. Meanwhile, Neri himself having left the knight's house, (which was near St. Marie Novella), made his progress to Ceccherino's shop, not without much wonder and laughter of all beholders; and on his arrival at the door gave a thundering rap, and bursting it open, entered with furious gestures, in complete armour as he was, exclaiming with a loud voice, "Aha! traitors-Aha! ye are all dead men❞—and forthwith put his lance in rest. They who were present, alarmed by what they had just heard, as no less than by what they themselves saw and witnessed, were soon seized with a perfect panic, and fled away in all directions-some to the counting-house, some behind the counter, or under chairs and tables-some shouting, some threatening, some praying-in short, the uproar was quite prodigious. Scheggia, who had followed close at his heels all the way, no sooner saw him entered, than he ran off full speed towards Portarossa, where dwelt his uncle, Agnolo Chiaramontesi, (an old man, one of the woollen trade, and a citizen of fair credit and reputation), and told him, quite out of breath, that he must make all haste to the shop of Ceccherino the mercer, where he would find his nephew, who was raving mad, and with lance in hand laying about him, so that it was to be feared great mischief might ensue. Whereupon Agnolo, (who, having no children of his own, entertained great affection for his nephew) exclaimed, "Alas! alas! alas! what is this you tell me!"-" Only the exact truth," replied Scheggia; and added, "Come, come away quickly; and bring with you some four or five of your workmen, to seize and bind him, and convey him, bound, to your house; and when you have kept him three or four days in the dark, without any body to speak to, it may be hoped that he will be brought back to his senses." Having no reason to disbelieve a statement made with so much apparent sincerity, the old gentleman immediately arose, and calling half-a-dozen of his woolcombers and carders together, all stout young men, and telling them to provide ropes, they all went to Ceccherino,s, where they found every thing in the terror and confusion already described, and Neri himself crowned with triumph at the effects of his prowess, and still laying about him with his lance in every direction where he thought he could add to their consternation, without doing any actual mischief.. His uncle having observed for a while his mad actions, crept slowly towards him from behind, and suddenly laying firm hold on the instrument of fancied destruction, cried in a loud voice, "stand firm there!-What, in God's name, are you doing, nephew?"-Then turning to his followers, "Make haste," he said, "disarm him-throw him on the ground, and bind him as fast as possible." These directions were no sooner given than followed; and before he had time to recover from his amazement, they had him stretched on the ground, some holding him by the arms, others by the legs, and in spite of his exclamations of "What are you about?—unband me, villains-I am not mad—unhand me!" soon finished their work, binding him hand and foot, in such a manner that he was unable to move a limb, and then laid him on a litter which they had brought with them for the purpose, and tied him down, so that he could not roll off, or slip away from them while they were carrying him. Meanwhile, Scheggia, hearing him howl and roar and blaspheme at this violent treatment, could not contain himself for joy, but was ready to leap out of his skin; and the poor terrified gentry who had fled from his fury, crept out of their hiding-places, and by their slow and timid advances towards the late object of their terrors, now in vile durance, shewed how vehement had been the alarm he occasioned them. Imagine, then, if Neri, proud as he was by nature, and fierce in his temper, did not burn inwardly, and if he did not cry out, and threaten, and swear, and curse without ceasing, while his uncle calmly ordered his men to take the litter on their shoulders, and, throwing a cloak over him, to convey their load back to his own house, where Monaca had already been before them to prepare his mother for their reception; and when the good old lady, accordingly, met them in tears at the door, and having, with the uncle's assistance, laid him on a bed in the best chamber, left him there, bound as he was, with intent not to speak a word to him, nor give him any thing till the morning, and then to call in physicians, and conduct themselves by their advice as might appear to be needful. And in so doing they were guided in like manner by the directions of Scheggia. Meanwhile, the rumour of this affair was noised throughout Florence, and Scheggia, with his companions, rejoicing, went to find their good host, the Cavalier Tornaquinci, to whom they related all things as they had happened, and from which he received delight and gladness unspeakable; and, it being already on the stroke of four, they sat down to supper with so much the greater pleasure, as they knew that Master Neri was safely locked up, and could not come to disturb them with his impertinence. Now when Master Neri found himself alone in the dark, tied to his bed as if he were a maniac, his helmet and greaves only being removed, and all the rest of his armour left upon his back, he lay still a good while thinking over the events that had befallen him, and soon fixed upon Scheggia as the contriver of the whole plot, by the result of which he had come to be reputed mad, not only by his mother and uncle, but by all Florence; and this reflection gave him so much pain and displeasure, that if he had at that moment been at liberty, he would certainly have done either himself or others a mischief. So he remained sleepless, and in an agony of rage, till past midnight, when the pains of hunger began to assault him vehemently; whereupon he cried out lustily, with all the voice that he was able to collect, and never ceased from calling, now upon his mother, now upon her maid-servant, to bring him somewhat to eat and drink; but it was all in vain, for they were determined not to hear a word he uttered. At last, about the hour of two in the morning, his uncle came to him, accompanied by a cousin-german of his, who was a brother of St. Mark's hospital, and two physicians, the first at Florence in their time; and, having opened his chamber door, they entered, preceded by his mother bearing a light, and found him laying in the same place and posture as they had left him, but so weak and exhausted with his endeavours to make himself heard, and with want of food, that he was become as tame and gentle as a lamb; at whose approach he lifted up his head, and in the most courteous manner saluted them, and then entreated that they would be content to listen to him while he said a few words, and to attend to his arguments. Whereupon Agado, and the others, with like courtesy, answered, that he might say what he pleased, and they would listen to him with all due attention; and, thus encouraged, he related to them all that had taken place respecting the wager, affirming that Scheggia was he who had betrayed him, and had caused him to be bound hand and foot for a madman; adding, that if they wished for better evidence, they might all go to the Cavalier Tornaquinci's, where they would find the two crowns, still held by him as a deposit. The uncle and the physicians knowing Scheggia well, were disposed to give credit to all that Neri uttered. However, to be quite certain, some of them went to the cavalier's according as he had desired them, and found not only that every thing was strictly true, but that Scheggia and his companions had wound up the frolic by supping together, and enjoying themselves with the heartiest laughter imaginable. Upon receiving this information, the uncle was covered with shame and confusion for the affront so mistakenly put upon his beloved nephew; and, returning with all the speed he might, presently relieved Neri from all remaining bondage, and begged his pardon with the greatest remorse and humility. But Neri, wholly unable to recover his spirits or to forget the disgrace he had sustained, caused a good fire to be lighted, and, after taking leave of his medical attendants, and the rest of his uncle's followers, he sat down to supper, where he made himself all the amends in his power for the pri vation he had been so undeservedly put to. By this time the whole matter was noised abroad throughout Florence, not only by means of the authors of the joke, but also by the physicians who had been in attendance, so that it came at length to the ears of "The Magnificent," who sent for Scheggia to make himself acquainted with all the particulars; and no sooner was Neri made acquainted with this consummation of his disgrace, than it plunged him into a fit of actual desperation, during which he swore, that he would lay upon them all, but most of them all upon Scheggia, such a mountain of bastinadoes, that they should remember him the longest day of their lives. Reflecting at length, however, that he had been himself the aggressor, he began to fear, that if he attempted such revenge as his anger prompted, the tables might even yet he turned upon him; and so he prudently determined to adopt a plan quite different: to the which end, without apprizing any living person of his intentions except his mother, he forthwith left Florence, and went to Rome, and thence to Naples, where he hired himself as mate to a vessel, of which he afterwards became master; nor did he ever go back to Florence again till he was quite an old man, when all memory of the transaction had perished. Meanwhile, Scheggia having received the two crowns which had been left in pawn with the cavalier, laid them out in good cheer for himself and his comrades, who partook of it most joyfully, not the less so, as they were thus quit for ever of the intrusion of their disagreeable visitor. Translated from the Novels of Lasca. A DRAMATIC SKETCH. BY LOUISA H. SHERIDAN. Scene-a Fruit and Vegetable Stall. Miss MARY GOLD, a priestess of Pomona. Abraham. Clo, clo, any old cloes. Mary. I wish people would come and buy some fruit: they deserts me, I think, instead of letting me give them their desserts: I will shut up the shop A. [Cloes, cloes, cloes.] Heigho-there sits that sweet young creature, Miss Mary Gold, selling of fruits and wegetables, looking as new to the world and as fresh as-[Old cloes, cloes, cloes.] M. Oh, I see a helegant lady coming ater some 'taters, and, here's that tiresome Abraham with his worn-out-clothes and his everlasting-suit: now I'll give him a grand look with my eyes like [Taters, Mem' redeyed taters, to day, or the purple-nose kind, like what your gentleman has in the country?] What do you want, Mr. Abraham? A. [Old cloes] Heigho! I wants to renew my suit, Mary: I'm hired to cry cloes :'-but I can't (weeps)-I can't cry,-for my tears! M. That's a crying cheat, Abraham. [Have some of this sparrowgrass, my Lady; its quite young, and no more seedy than-] A. [Old cloes!] I am glad that woman is gone: Mary turn your lovely eyes towards here, for they are in my opinion nearly equal to M. [Red and green gooseberries oh! large gooseber ries ho!] I protest, Mr. Abraham, I wish you'd hact like me, putting vine-leaf on those fruits. A. How's that? [Old cloes.] M. Why I leaves them, Mr. Impudence; do you M. [Currants, large currants, clear currants!] A. Down my full pale cheeks in pailfuls: [any old handkerchiefs?] I thought of the darling little even teeth of you for all the world like M. [Fine black cherries, black, round and sound, and done up in rows.] A. Like the pearl's mother, Mary: and your most elegant nose, that hasn't an equal in London, except--M. [Red beetroot, here, large and soft red beet-root oh,] Nonsense Mr. Abraham, dont go on describing my face, for I'm not going to give you my countenance. A. Your heart is as cold as hice, and it's M. [Just out of the hot-house, I warrant my lady, for I cut it out with my own scissors: shall I put it in the carriage Mem? A. Now I'll be firm: Mary, am I ever to hope for possession of your taper hand, that with its slender fingers seems like beautiful-- M. [Thick carrots, fine yellow carrots, five to the bunch.] A. [These dont make a pair, Sir, the right one's an odd one I think; good morning, Sir.] Oh, Mary if I'd the wealth of the Ingees, I give you a— M. [Fine plum, golden yellow plum,] well, I like to hear of presents,---tho' yours are absent; what would you give me? A. I'd give you the best half, and dress you in [any sort of old cloes, cast cloes,] I'd dress you in--M. [Fig leaves would you like, mem? they are the coolest, and they garnish so pretty.] A. master But I have only a guinea a week from my A, They're to be married the day after tomorrow, and he said to me, speaking of you (tho' I don't like to be a tell.tale 'cause they-- M. [Peaches oh, oh, peaches,] 'Cause tell-tales tell stories: but says he, 'dont you marry Miss Mary Gold'-- M- [Meddler, a fine kind of meddler, Mem; I'm sure you'll find those unsound at the heart; shall I hang 'em up a few days, Mem?] A. But I dont mind him, so now there don't weep; oh fie, Molly! M. Abraham you've mollified me at last and your perseverance has worn me out, like-- A. [Old clo, clo, clo, cloes,] Oh happy dear! my heart feels all of a glow, scorching like a-- M. [Cucumber, here, all green and cool cucumber oh,] I scarce know what to say, for I fear you men are all [new walnuts, try 'em before you buy'em my lady:] you men are all so unconstant when you've gained the hearts of us poor damsels, [damsons, here, beautiful damsons; put 'em in jars and bury them Mem, and you'll preserve the bloom for a sentry,] If I'd be jealous I'd go mad! A- You should have no [cloes, cloes, cloes] cause to go mad [Young man will you part with your tight waistcoat?]---to go mad with jealousy of my-- M. [Rosy cheeked Eves, and Nonpareils I've to to give you sixpence Mem.] A. You would admire my constancy, Mary. M. Oh Abraham dear, I want change! just run over the way, will ye? [I've sent the young man, Mem, away for change how tiresome it is to be always without change.] A. Mary I felt quite bashful in asking strangers.. M. Why didn't you get more copper? 'tis most useful [thank you maʼam, pray don't let me stain your beautiful-- A. [Old cloes, worn out cloes.] Well I can't stay any longer, Mary, so have pity on me, and fix the day; shall it be to-morrow?. M. I dont care if it is; 'twill spite Mr. and Missus Sweetwilliam, [Nice thyme, best thyme, here:] my only fear is when we'er married, you'll be tired of me, and throw me off like A. (going away) [Old cloes, cast clocs!] M. (half crying) Here's plenty of rue, ma'am, but I got no balm! From the Comic Offering for 1834. THE DRAMA. THE TWO GREAT HOUSES.-The coalition of the Drury Lane and Covent Garden establishments, under one superintendence, has given rise to much discussion among theatrical critics, and much recrimination between the manager and several of the public. writers; the consequence of which has been in several cases a withdrawal of the usual free admissions. Without entering into the merits of the "system" about which the double manager appears so sensitive, we cannot but NO. XXXV.---VOL. III. express our conviction that in no former instance have we seen the campaign opened with so apparent a want of resources. The company, with few exceptions, are not equal either as to talent or numbers, to what we have a right to expect for a single establishment.Though the theatrical operations commenced in the first instance on alternate nights, there have since been performances not only on the same evening, but even tragedies as first pieces at both theatres. Should this continue we shall have to deplore the unfortunate lot of our great national theatres, where rivalry has hitherto generally had the effect of procuring something worth seeing. We hear that Mr. Bunn is shortly about to make a grand effort with some novelty that is to be productive of very general interest-we must conclude that it is at the same time his intention to add to the strength of his company. What has yet been produced has been in few instances worth notice-The Tempest by Shakspeare Dryden and Co., and the bombastic and clap-trap tragedy of Pizarro, have been already presented for our entertainment. In the part of Rolla, was introduced, for the first time to a London audience, Mr. King, a gentleman of good personal appearance (which by the bye, we have been informed of in the public prints very officially for some time past) who has as yet given no striking indications of superior talent. Mrs. Sloman who has also been highly extolled previous to her revisiting the London boards, has proved herself a clever actress with great stage-experience, but possessing none of the commanding genius requisite for the undertaking of characters such as she has engaged in. Her style of acting far from possessing any striking originality, is studied and artificial-she must descend from the proud eminence she has assumed. It gives us great pleasure, after so dreary a retrospection, to notice Mr. Macready's personation of Cardinal Wolsey, which can be spoken of in no other terms than those of the highest commendation-His was in every respect a fine conception of the character of the "proud prelate:" so faultless a performance it has not of late been our good fortune to witness. Mr. Macready received but miserable support from the other performers; to see him alone, however, amply repays the trouble of a visit. The Mayor of Garrať" has been revived, in which Dowton, and the original and long-lost S. Russel appeared, through their exertions principally, it went off with great spirit, and was well received. 66 THE HAYMARKET is under very spirited guidancea talented company and quick succession of good pieces well suited to the performers, constitute attractions of of no ordinary description. They have had the "Steward," (re-christened the "Deserted Daughter"), with Farren as Item.---" Love in a Village"---Miss Paton made a delighlful Rozetta.--The song Cupid, god of sweet persuasion," was sweetly sung by Miss Cawse." Uncle John," a clever and spirited farce, with Farren as Uncle John, was warmly applauded: Strickland in the part of an old man, evinced talent only secondary to Farren's. "My Wife's Mother" has had a long run. THE ADELPHI has brought out a domestic drama called "Grace Huntly;" It is of that peculiar interest which cannot fail to rivet the attention, and contains an excellent moral lesson. X The writer must consider himself greatly indebted to to the performers for the able manner in which they acquitted themselves. 66 VICTORIA.--This excellent theatre is conducted with still greater spirit than before. “Shylock,” “ Hamlet,” "The Provoked Husband," and Sheridan Knowls's admirable play of the 'Hunchback," and "The Wife," in both of which he appears; have been successfully brought out. The entertainments have been varied by the grotesque performances of two German posture masters whose evolutions are extraordinary--one of them personates a windmill. OLYMPIC.-Madame has been as usual on the alert to introduce as many novelties as practicable, and has succeeded in pleasing her audiences. They showed a great want of gallantry a few evenings back, in grumbling at her absence, through indisposition; she however soon made friends with them on her re appearance. One of the recent novelties "Mind your Letters," with Keeley as Slop, gained much approbation. At SADLERS WELLS, the most attractive piece of late has been "The Knights of St. John." The management have spared no pains to render it attractive, and their exertions have generally been crowned with success. LITERARY REVIEW. "Méthode Marcellienne, or Méthode Naturelle Théorisée," by M. Annibal Marcel.-(2nd Notice). WE introduced the subject of Mr. Marcel's system of tuition in the last number, at the same time urging our readers to an attentive examination of its merits.It now remains to detail the peculiarities, as well as point out the principal features which serve to distinguish it from the most popular of the systems generally adopted. To those acquainted with the usual school routine, (our present allusion extends only to the acquisition of living language, without entering on the general question of education), the disappointments resulting from the ordinary course of instruction must be familiar: those who have been accustomed to the book-systems of Dufief, Hamilton, or Jacotot, must have at last perceived their inadequacy to impart a perfect knowledge of the conversational language. All must have found one dernier resort, inevitable-a sojourn in the French capital, or a constant communication in this country with natives of France.-Hence, a system founded on principles so novel, adopting aural means of communication-not writen ones; words in a state of combination, or phrases, first offered to the learner,-not isolated words to learn by rote; and thirdly, the method of decomposition," or varying the combinations of words in every possible form; instead of the old mode of parrot-learning a string of idioms, afterwards found inapplicable.-a system exhibiting as this does, 30 bold a striking-out from the old worn track, puts forth claims to examination, sufficient to render it a subject of national interest. " In setting forth his views, we shall chiefly quote Mr. Marcel's own words, as being best calculated to exemplify his views and motives. Mr Marcel lays down as an axiom, that "speaking our vernacular tongue or any other, is the faculty of reproducing sounds and associations of sounds in millions of combinations, not to be acquired in fifty lessons, but from hearing for a length of time. the same sounds and associations of sounds in millions of combinations.' He thus introduces the facts which came to his knowledge relative to the acquisition of language, and the inferences he draws from them. "Seeing, on one side, ignorant men obtain the natural aim that men propose in trying to learn a language; when, on the other hand, persons who had already received some kind of education, obtained but the contrary results, notwithstanding their masters and their books; I began to suspect that theory does not teach practice, in other words, that Grammar, as a collection of rules and exercises, does not teach language; and, also, that books placed at first in the hands of the learners, were the cause of their bad pronunciation. To turn this last suspicion into conviction, I tried some experiments, and found that children and adults could pronounce, after a few attempts, the phrase-comment vous, portez-vous ?-nearly as well as myself, merely from hearing me previous to seeing the phrase written; but that, on the coutrary, it was most difficult for them to obtain the pronunciation, if hearing the master and reading at the same time, and more so still, if reading previous to bearing the master; which is the case when they prepare exercises, translate English into French, and, therefore, look for words in the dictionary." “I found also that three indispensable exercises take place with infants : First: Hearing the spoken language for a length of time, either as a translation of their own language of cries, or as the expression, of the impressions intended to be made on them. Secondly: Attempts at repeating, the consequence of which, from the nature of our constitutive organs, is imitation. Thirdly: The decomposition of the elementary, or primitively acquired phrases, into their simplest elements (the words) not word by word, but by the reproduction of the same words into new associations." "Now, who has not seen that the children of ignorant people, who continually live with their parents, speak as the latter; that genteel children, surrounded by persons who speak their language purely and elegantly, always betray the gentility of their birth by their pronunciation, their expressions, phraseology, and tones of voice, without having had occasion to study grammar.” Several similar instances are here detailed which we omit. "All these facts proved to me that children, at the age of ten, would never say-I is, I goes, I does, who never hear; I is, I goes, I does; and finally that grammar is the fruit of practice and observation, when the models for imitation are correct, and depends and rests upon time the greater master. I have known English persons who knew not a verb from an adjective, and yet could speak English elegantly. I have known others to be quite conversant with the rules and definitions, who could parse any phrase, ́ and yet did not speak better than their neighbours." "After making the many observations, above mentioned, on the progressive development of the maternal language, I then studied the effect of the spoken language, on persons already acquainted with the language of books, by reading aloud to them, and found that those persons who pronounced best, could translate my spoken language, when I spoke slow, but could not when I spoke in natural time; but most of them did not hesitate to say: If you give me the book, I think, I shall be able to translate as well as yourself, but, merely from hearing you read, I cannot. No wonder! They were trying to translate with the memory of their eyes, not of their ears; they tried to read the words as I spoke them. therefore concluded, what accidental experiments had hinted to me before; 1st. That the eyes read associations of letters, which do not paint the pronunciation of a foreign language, except a pronunciation imitated from that of our own. 2nd. That the ears cannot be acquainted with a pronunciation that the eyes have learnt; and, consequently, that if the English learner wishes to pronounce French correctly, he must be made to acquire it from hearing, before he is allowed to read; for, books placed at first in the bands of the learner, will be the cause of a bad pronunciation.” The following instances strongly point out the paramount necessity of the actual presence of a well qualified teacher. "In continuing my observations on the English acquainted with |