listened to him, an' he made me a fool an' a disgrace to my people; and he listened to the devil, an' spilt his masther's blood for the lucre ov gain; but the judgment's come at last. I was a dacent, innocent girl, when first I met him that's there-look at me now, an' see what he's made me-but that's not what I want to talk about. It's now eleven years, last Michaelmas, sence him an' I were livin' in the sarvice ov Mr. Daly, a farmer, and a kind masther he was; an' there come a girl out of the County Mathe into the same sarvice, an' she wasn't in it two days, when she come in the morning in a thrimble ov fright to Miss Daly, and tould her that she dhramed that the masther an' misthress were murthered in bed by a man that she knew the face ov well, and that the dhrame was too sharp a dhrame, not to come for a warning. Miss Daly was walkin' out ov her room an' goin' on to the kitchen all the time, never mindin' a word the girl was sayin', for she had a bould heart an' didn't mind dhrames no more nor if she was a Jew. In the kitchen were the laborin' men all at breakfast, an' him," pointing to the corpse, "along wid the rest; an' as the girl passed through after Miss Daly, the moment she saw him she screeched, and ran out as fast as a hare from the dogs; an' when Miss Daly axed her what ailed her to make her behave that way, she tould her the murtherer she saw in her dhrame was sittin' in the kitchen, an' iv he wasn't turned off that instant minute she'd lave the service that very day. An angry girl Miss Daly was to hear her talk that way, an' tould her to go as fast as she liked, and go she did. Three nights afther that the dhrame come thrue, and the masther and the misthress were killed in their bed Oh! the kind misthress that never closed her eyes on her pillow with an angry thought agin mortal breathin'. Am I belyin' ye?" said she, stepping fiercely up to the corpse, "Didn't I curse ye on my bended knees, when ye wakened me up wid your bloody

hands to tell me what ye had done? Didn't I tell ye that bad loock an' misfortin' id stick to you an' yours to ye're grave, an' that nothin' that touched ye id thrive? An' isn't the curse come thrue ? Where's my child, my beautiful boy, that sickened from that very hour, as if he was sthruck wid an evil eye? Where's my ould father, that died ov a broken heart wid the shame ye brought upon me and where, oh, where is the innocent thoughts that used keep me singin' for joy the live-long day, an' I listenin' to the birds in the threes, an' lookin' at the deer in the park, an' gatherin' the flowers on the hill, an' thinkin' nothin' that wasn't good and happy? An' where is that quiet sleep that never come near me from the day I knew ye, an' never will till I'm laid in my grave an' the sooner that blessed hour comes the betther, for there I'll be quiet at last. Ye've seen an awful sight, Sir, an' ye've heard an awful story, an' iv it's a warnin' to ye, gentleman as ye are, that company lades to ruin, I'm glad ye come any how it was kindness made ye stay, an' God 'ill bless ye for it. There's the day breakin', an' the wimin 'ill be comin' here to lay him out wid the first light, and the sooner ye go, the betther for both."

It was with the utmost difficulty that I could prevail upon this extraordinary woman to accept of a trifling sum, which I pressed upon her she said that "she had done nothing to desarve it," and it was only through fear of offending me by a refusal, that she took it at last. An hour and a half of sharp walking, brought me to the village of Delganny, and though the scenery in that neighborhood is of a most romantic and picturesque character, you must excuse me from describing it after the events of the night. About two miles from Delganny, I got on board a fishing-boat bound for Dublin, and a bright and tranquil evening found me at anchor in the harbor of Kingstown, "a sadder and a wiser man" than I was the day before.

[We copy the following remarks on the relative popular feelings of England and America towards each other, from Captain Basil Hall's "Travels in North America," a work which has been looked for with no small degree of interest on both sides of the Atlantic. This passage is selected rather as a specimen of the author's style of writing and his manner of speaking of our country, than from our conviction of the truth of his observations, or from anything noble and striking in the feelings and views which they express.]

THE artificial structure of society in the two countries is so dissimilar in nearly all respects, and the consequent difference in the occupations, opinions, and feelings of the two people on almost every subject that can interest either, is so great, and so very striking, even at the first glance, that my surprise is not, why we should have been so much estranged from one another in sentiment and in habits, but how there should still remain-if indeed there do remain-any considerable points of agreement between us. It will place this matter in a pretty strong light to mention, that during more than a year that I was in America—although the conversation very often turned on the politics of Europe for the last thirty years-I never, but in one or two solitary instances, heard a word that implied the smallest degree of sympathy with the exertions which England, single-handed, had so long made to sustain the drooping cause of freedom. It will be obvious, I think, upon a little reflection, how the same causes have not operated in America to keep her so entirely ignorant of England, as we in England are of America. Nearly all that she has of letters, of arts, and of science, has been, and still continues to be, imported from us, with little addition or admixture of a domestic growth or manufacture. Nearly all that she learns of the proceedings of the other parts of the world also comes through

the same channel, England-which, therefore, is her chief market for everything intellectual as well as commercial. Thus, in a variety of ways, a certain amount of acquaintance with what is doing amongst us is transmitted, as a matter of course, across the Atlantic. After all, however, say what they please, it is but a very confused and confined sort of acquaintance which they actually possess of England. There was, indeed, hardly anything in the whole range of my inquiries in the United States, that proved more different from what I had been led to expect, than this very point. At first I was surprised at the profundity of their ignorance on this subject; though I own it is far short of our ig norance of them. I was also wellnigh provoked at this sometimes, till I recollected that an opinionated confidence in our own views, all the world over, is the most prominent characteristic of error. The Americans, of course, very stoutly, and I am sure with sincerity, assert their claims to infallibility on this point; and accordingly they receive with undisguised incredulity the more correct accounts which a personal familiarity with both countries enables foreigners to furnish. I learnt in time to see that similar causes to those already stated, though different in degree, in addition to ma ny others, were in action in America to render England as ungrateful a topic with them as America is undeniably with us. The nature of the monarchical form of government, with its attendant distinctions in rank, we may suppose is nearly as repugnant to their tastes as democracy is to ours. The eternal recollections, too, of all the past quarrels between us, in which

probably for want of any other history-they indulge not only as an occasional pleasure, but impose upon themselves as a periodical duty, and celebrate, accordingly, with all sorts of national rancor, at a yearly festival, render the Revolutionary war in which

they succeeded, nearly as fertile a source of irritation to them, with reference to poor Old England, though the issue was successful, as its disasters formerly were to us, who failed. But there is this very material, and, I take the liberty of saying, characteristic, difference between the two cases: we have long ago forgotten and forgiven-out and out-all that has passed, and absolutely think so little about it, that I believe, on my conscience, not one man in a thousand amongst us knows a word of these matters, with which they are apt to imagine us so much occupied. Whereas, in America, as I have said before, the full, true, and particular account of the angry dispute between us-the knowledge of which ought to have been buried long ago-is carefully taught at school, cherished in youth, and afterwards carried, in manhood, into every ramification of public and private life. If I were asked to give my countrymen an example of the extent of the ignorance which prevails in America with respect to England, I might instance the erroneous, but almost universal opinion in that country, that the want of cordiality with which, I grant, the English look upon them, has its source in the old recollections alluded to. And I could never convince them, that such vindictive retrospections, which it is the avowed pride and delight of America to keep alive in their pristine asperity, were entirely foreign to the national character of the English, and inconsistent with that hearty John Bull spirit, which teaches them to forget all about a quarrel, great or small, the moment the fight is over, and they have shaken hands with their enemy in testimony of such compact. At the same time, I cannot, and never did deny, that there existed amongst

us a considerable degree of unkindly feeling towards America; but this I contended was ascribable, not by any means to past squabbles, recent or remote, but almost exclusively to causes actually in operation, in their full force, at the present moment, and lying far deeper than the memory of those by-gone wars, the details of which have long been forgotten, even by the few eye-witnesses who remain, and about which the English of the present day are either profoundly ignorant, or-which comes to the same thing-profoundly indifferent. Be the causes, however, what they may, the curious fact of our mutual ignorance is indisputable. At least so it appears to me; and I have good reason to believe, that such is the opinion of almost every foreigner, continental, as well as English, who has visited America. We, however, in England, as I have said before, frankly and fully admit our very small acquaintance with that country; whereas the Americans, probably with as much sincerity, proclaim their perfect acquaintance with England. The conclusion is odd enough; both parties are satisfied

they are convinced that they know all about us; and we are perfectly conscious that we know nothing about them. While, therefore, I may perhaps indulge myself in the expectation of being able to furnish some slight information to people on this side of the water respecting that country, I have had far too much experience of the hopeless nature of the converse of the proposition, to attempt changing the opinions of the Americans as to what is passing in England. On this topic, indeed, to use the words of Burke in speaking of another nation, the inhabitants of the United States, are, it is to be feared, pretty nearly— reason-proof.

In the wild sands and on the summit hoar?

A ROUND dress of citron color gros de Naples, the skirt of an easy fulness, ornamented with rouleaux to correspond, placed at regular distances. Corsage croisée, and long sleeve à la Marie. Ceinture of wrought silk to correspond with the dress, fastened in front by a gold buckle. Fichu of white lace, with an antique collar, which stands up round the throat. Chapeau of gros de Naples, color bleu d'Haiti, trimmed with nœuds of gauze riband to correspond, intermixed with bouquets of corn flowers and bunches of unripe wheat. White kid gloves; citron kid shoes.

Explanation of the Print of the Fashions.

PUBLIC PROMENADE DRESS.

A JACKONOT muslin round dress; the corsage is made up to the throat, and disposed in deep longitudinal plaits, long sleeve of rather more than the usual width. The skirt is ornamented with two deep tucks, each surmounted by embroidery. A sultana of rose colored gros de Tours, figured with black, is worn over this dress. The corsage is open before and behind, and falls over on the shoulders in the pelerine style; the sultana is open in front, and simply trimmed round with a rouleau of the same material. Chapeau composed of crape of the darkest shade of vapeur; the inside of the brim is orna

mented with a mixture of satin points and white blonde lace; a fall of blonde is disposed in drapery round the crown, and two esprits are placed to the left side. The brides are of broad gauze riband, to correspond with the hat. A broad black riband, to which is attached three gold ornaments of an antique form, encircles the dress round the throat, and descends to the ceinture. White kid shoes; yellow gloves.

EVENING DRESS.

A dress of crêpe aerophane over satin to correspond; the color is the The deepest shade of bleu du Roi. corsage is cut extremely low, ornamented round the bust with a light trimming in crêpe, and marked in the centre of the bust and back with a narrow satin rouleau. The sleeves are extremely short and full. Satin ceinture fastened behind in short bows without ends. The skirt is of an easy fulness, and finished by a broad biais of the same material, on the upper edge of which is a very rich embroidery in floise silk of the same color. The hair is arranged in a profusion of full curls, which fall low on each side of the face, and in full bows on the crown of the head. A demi guirlande goes round the back of the head, and terminates in a small bouquet of fancy flowers on the right side. Diamond ear-rings; white kid gloves; white gros de Naples sandals ; plaid crape scarf.

JOHN LOCKE IN HOLLAND.

THE following is a pleasing specimen of the playfulness and good humor of the celebrated John Locke. It is part of a letter, dated Cleves, 1665, to a friend, and is from "Lord King's Life of Locke," just published in London. "You must not expect anything remarkable from me, for I have spent the whole week in getting a pair of gloves, and think, too, I have had a quick despatch. You will perhaps wonder at it, and think I talk like a traveller; but I will give you the particulars of the business. Three days were spent in finding out a glover; for though I can walk all the town over in less than an hour, yet their shops are so contrived, as if they were designed to conceal, not expose, their wares; and though you may think it strange, yet, methinks, it is very well done, and 'tis a becoming unodesty to conceal that which they have reason enough to be ashamed of. But to proceed: the two next days were spent in drawing them on-the right-hand glove (or, as they call them here, hand shoe), Thursday, and the left hand, Friday; and I promise you this was two good days' work, and little enough to bring them to fit my hands, and to consent to be fellows, which, after all, they are so far from, that when they are on, I am always afraid my hands should go to cuffs one with another, they so disagree. Saturday we concluded on the price, computed, and changed our money; for it requires a great deal of arithmetic and a great deal of brass to pay twenty-eight stivers and seven doits; but, God be thanked, they are well fitted with counters for reckoning: for their money is good for nothing else, and I am poor here with my pockets full of it. I wondered at first why the market people brought their wares in little carts, drawn by one horse, till I found it necessary to carry home the

price of them; for a horse-load of turnips would be two horse-load of money. A pair of shoes cannot be got under half a year: I lately saw the cow killed out of whose hide I hope to have my next pair. To be serious with you, they are the slowest people, and fullest of delays, that ever I have met with, and their money as bad."

UNIVERSITY of halle.

The number of students in the University of Halle, in the half-year between Michaelmas 1827, and Easter 1828, amounted in the whole to 1185; in the half-year from Easter to Michaelmas 1828, the numbers were in the whole, 1316. In the last halfyear the number amounted to 1330, of whom 944 were students of divinity, 239 of law, 58 of medicine, and 89 of philosophy, philology, mathematics, &c. The foreigners were 355, the Wurtemburgers 975. Those who have already passed their examination and taken their degrees, although continuing to profit by the instruction given in the University, are included in this statement. A new building for the University is about to be erected on the site of the present theatre, formerly the church of the garrison and University, and the Lutherian gymnasium. 40,000 dollars were ordered by the king to be assigned for the purpose in 1827. The designs are now in a state of forwardness.