with those with whom they had already undergone that ceremony. Kean and Young in Othello; "The Douglas and the Percy both in arms." Dance of actors from both theatres: foot it and hey" contrary sides:" Mr. Liston and Miss Stephens still only underlined. "The ery is still they come." Diabolical attempt to poison a whole family at breakfast, in Lombard-street, by putting Paine's Age of Reason under the tea-pot providentially none of the family could read. Growing civility of sweeps, dustmen, and patrols: plainly denoting that the era of Christmasboxes is at hand. Boys arm-in-arm and three a-breast aping manhood along Fleet-street, with Cossack trowsers and bamboo canes. Grave papas, usually seen about without an accompaniment, were met dragging along children in couples, and occasionally stopping to peep into toy-shop windows. Premature twelfth-cakes stealing behind confectioners' counters: striplings of sixteen walking half ashamed arm-in-arm with maiden THE COURT OF ALDERMEN AT FISH- (From the New Monthly Magazine.) Said Alderman Birch; I take it for herring, Said Alderman Perring. This jack's very good, Said Alderman Wood; But its bones might a man slay, I'll butter what I get, Said Alderman Heygate. Said Aldermen Smith. Said Alderman Brown; Said Alderman Glyn. Said Alderman Waithman : Said Alderman Atkins. Said Alderman Brydges. ables: Yes, in a box, Said Alderman Shaw: Said Alderman Flower; Said Alderman Garret. SINGULAR BIOGRAPHY. Seathwaite church yard, in Westmoreland, "In memory of the Reverend Robert Walker, who died the 25th of June, 1802, in the 93rd year of his age, and 67th of bis curacy at Seathwaite. "Also of Anne his wife, who died the 28th of January, in the 93rd year of her age." This is the pastor alluded to in Mr. Wordsworth's Excursion, as a worthy compeer of the country parson of Chaucer. A brief memoir of his life, extracted from the same writer, may perhaps be acceptable. My lord,—I have the favour of your's of the 1st inst. and am exceedingly obliged on account of the Ulpha affair. If that curacy should fall into your lordship's hands, I would beg leave rather to decline than embrace it; for the chapels of Seathwaite and Ulpha annexed together, would be apt to cause a general discontent among the inhabitants of both places; by either thinking themselves slighted, being only served alternately, or neglected in the duty, or attributing it to covetousness in me; all which occasions of murmuring I would willingly avoid." Concluding, as he did in his former letter, that it was his wish "to live peaceably with all men." The year following, the curacy of Seathwaite was augmented again: and, to effect this augmentation, fifty pounds had been advanced by himself. Scanty as was his income, the offer of much better benefices could not tempt Mr. W. to quit a situation where he had been so long happy, with a consciousness of being useful. and pattern of an indulgent parent. Your ROBERT WALKER was born at Under Crag, in Seathwaite, in the year 1709, and was the youngest of twelve children. His eldest brother died at Under Crag, aged 94 years. Robert was a sickly child, and his health continuing delicate, it was deemed best to breed him a scholar; for it was not likely that he would be able to earn his livelihood by bodily labour. At that time few of the dales were furnished with school houses; children were taught in the chapels; and in the same building where he officiated so many years, he received the rudiments of his Having given to one of his sons a college edueducation. After some time he became school- cation, in the year 1775 he requested the Archmaster at Lowes-water; and, by the assistance bishop of York to ordain him: concluding his of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, he ac- letter thus. "Divine Providence, assisted by quired, at leisure hours, a knowledge of the liberal benefactors, has blest my endeavours, classics, and qualified himself for taking orders. from a small income to rear a numerous family; Upon his ordination he had the offer of two and as my time of life renders me unfit for curacies of the same value, viz. five pounds per much future expectancy from this world, I annum but the cure of Seathwaite, having a should be glad to see my son settled in a procottage attached to it, as he wished to marry, mising way to acquire an honest livelihood for obtained the preference. The young woman on himself. His behaviour, so far in life, has been whom his affections were fixed, though in the irreproachable; and I hope he will not degenecondition of a domestic servant, had given pro-rate, in principles or practice, from the precepts mise, by her virtuous disposition, that she was worthy to become the help-mate of a man entering on such a plan of life as he had marked out for himself. By her frugality she had stored up a small sum of money, with which they began house-keeping in 1735. About twenty years afterwards his living had been augmented, for in a letter to a friend, he says, "the annual income of my chapel, at present, may amount to about £17 10; of which five pounds are in cash from the bounty of Queen Anne, £5 from the lord of the manor, and £3 from certain inhabitants as a rent charge. The house and gardens I value at £4 yearly, not worth more; and the surplice fees and voluntary contributions may be worth £3, but, as the inhabitants are few in number, and the fees very low, this lastmentioned sum consists merely in free-will offerings. I am situated greatly to my satisfaction with regard to the conduct and behaviour of my auditory, who not only live in happy ignorance of the follies and vices of the age, but in mutual peace and good will with one another; and are seemingly, (I hope really too) sincere Christians, and sound members of the established church, not one dissenter of any denomination being amongst them all. I got to the value of 40 for my wife's fortune; and though my income has been but small, and my family large, yet, by a providential blessing upon my diligent endeavours, the kindness of friends, and a cheap country to live in, we have always had the necessaries of life." About the time when this letter was written, the Bishop of Chester recommended a scheme of joining the curacy of Ulpha to the contiguous one of Seathwaite, and the nomination was offered to Mr. Walker; but, an unexpected dif The same man who was thus liberal in the education of his family, was even munificent in hospitality as a parish priest. Every Sunday were served, upon a long table, messes of broth, for the refreshment of those of his congregation who came from a distance, and they usually took their seats as parts of his household. It seems scarcely possible that this custom could have commenced before the augmentation of his cure. His generosity in old age may be still further illustrated by a little circumstance relating to an orphan grandson, which I find in a copy of a letter to one of his sons: he requests that half a guinea may be given to "little Robert for pocket money," promising to make him the like allowance annually. The conclusion of the same letter is so characteristic that I cannot forbear transcribing it. "We," meaning his wife and himself, "are in our wonted state of health, allowing for the hasty strides of old age knocking daily at our door; and threateningly telling us, we are not only mortal but must, ere long, take leave of our ancient cottage, and lie down in our last dormitory. Let us hear from you soon, to augment the mirth of the Christmas holidays. Wishing you all the pleasures of the approaching season, I am, dear son, with lasting sincerity, your's affectionately, Robert Walker." He loved old usages, and in some instances stuck to them to his own loss: for having had : a sum of money in the hands of a neighbour, when long course of time had raised the rate of interest, and more was offered, he refused to accept it. From the vice of cupidity he was quite free. He made no charge for teaching his school such as could afford to pay, gave him what they pleased when very young, having kept a diary of his expences, the large amount, at the end of the year, surprised him; and from that time, the rule of his life was to be economical not avaricious. At his decease he left no less a sum than £2000; and such a sense of his various excellences was prevalent in the country, that the epithet of WONDERFUL is to this day attached to his name. There is in the above sketch something so extraordinary as to require further explanatory details but these must form the subject of a future number. : MATHEMATICS. Tread-Wheel applied to Canal Navigation.-The object is to obviate the necessity of employing horses in drawing barges on canals. The apparatus is made light, and separable from the barge: two men can propela barge by it at the rate of five miles an hour. The saving in the expense of horses and towing-patbs promises to make this an important application of human power. M. Van Heythuysen is the person who has adopted this apparatus. Improvement in Metallic Casting.-Iron and metallic casts are said to be very much improved by subjecting the metal, when in the moulds, to pressure. This is done by making a part of the mould of such a form as to receive a piston, which, on the metal being introduced, is made to press on it with any required force. It is stated that castings obtained in this way are not only free from the common imperfections, but have a peculiar soundness of surface, and closeness of textare; qualities of the utmost importance in ordnance, flatting; cylinders, &c. The improvement belongs to Mr. Hollingrake, who has obtained a patent for it.Journal of Science. Mathematical Prize Question.-The following is proposed by the class of mathematics of the Royal Academy of Sciences of Prussia :-- To give a complete Solution of No. 53, by Mr. Jones, Chorlton Row.mathematical theory of the luminous or colored circles First, draw the line CAB; then with centre C and radius CA, and centre C and radius CB, describe two concentric circles;-through FCH draw a diameter to the two circles, and parallel to this diameter draw the chord IB.---from A draw AG perpendicular to IB. The depth of the well will then be represented by AB, and the latitude of the place by the angle BCH. Now, the difference between the circumferences described by the points B. and A. in one revolution of the earth upon its axis is 2BG x 3.1416; bat, BG = AB multiplied by the cosine of the angle BCH or GBA, AB X cosine of 51° 32" 248.825 feet. Hence, the difference between the spaces described in 24 hours by the points A and B is 248.825 × 2 × 3.14161563.7314 feet. And the time the body would fall through 400 feet is equal to 4005 seconds. Therefore, as 24 hours 5 seconds: 1563.7314 feet 1.086 inches; the distance the body wonld fall east of the perpendicular. Jack at a Pinch favoured us with a solution similar to the one above;---most of our other correspondents seem to have misunderstood the question. Question No. 58, by Mr. John Hill. Required the value of x, y, and z, when (403 — x') X (2x2 - 23) X (xy — y2) is a maximum. 57. We beg to call the attention of our mathematical friends to Questions No. 46, 47, 50, 51, 54, 56, and To these questions we have not yet received any correct solutions, excepting such as have been furnished by the respective proposers of the questions, and some that have been sent to us by our able correspondent Jack at a Pinch. SCIENCE, ETC. NEW THEORY OF THE BLOOD.---Sir Everard Home in an introductory lecture on the physiology of the blood, advances a new theory, from a discovery made by him in 1808. Observing the growth of a grain of wheat through a microscope, he saw a blob, and then a tube passing from it; the blob was the juice of the plant, and the tube was formed by the extraction of arbonic acid gas. By analogical reasoning he was led to examine a globule of blood, in which he found similar tubes, aud which he injected under the exhausted receiver of an air pump. Hence, he concludes that carbonic acid gas exists in the blood in the proportion of two cubic inches to an ounce, and that it is given out in considerable quantities from the blood after a full meal, and very little from the blood of a feverish person. which form around the Sun and Moon; and such an Porcelain Clay-Gold in Cheshire.-A superior clay, A tailor his family honourably; a thing at that time sufficiently remarkable, and which in the present age might pass for a prodigy! But his grateful country recompensed in the children the virtues of the father. The parliament granted a perpetual annuity of four thousand pounds stirling to the family of Chatham, besides paying twenty thousand pounds of debt, which the late Earl had been compelled to contract, in order to support his rank and his numerous household. No individual until that time, except the duke of Marlborough, had received in Eugland such high and liberal rewards. The Earl of Chatham was no less distinguished as a great orator, than as a profound statesman, and immaculate citizen. He defended with admirable eloquence before parliament, those resolutions which he had maturely discussed and firmly adopted in the consultations of the cabinet. Some, it is true, blamed in his speeches the too frequent use of figures, and a certain pomp of style much savouring of the taste of those times. But this great minister surpassed all the rulers of nations of his age, in the art of exciting, even to enthusiasm, the zeal of the servants of the state, civil as well as military: a talent which heaven confers but rarely, and only upon privileged individuals. In a word, he was a man whose name will never be pronounced without encomium, and the resplendent glory of whose virtues will eternally recommend them to invitation." ADVERTISEMENTS. EDUCATION.THE REV. G. BROWN, A. M. in his Private Establishment at Chadderton, (pleasantly situated on the Irwell, five miles from Bury,) has at present a few vacancies. The number of Pupils is limited to sir or eight; they have the use of a valuable select Library, and are treated in every respect as part of the family. Terms.-FORTY GUINEAS per annum, including washing, and every charge, except school books and stationary.Address, the Advertiser at "Chadderton, near Bury, Lancashire." Chadderton, Jan. 16th, 1823. INTERESTING LECTURES, on EXPERIMEN TAL PHILOSOPHY, with superior apparatus, iliustrated by a great variety of pleasing Experiments, which will be explained in the most familiar manner, and suited to every Capacity, will be delivered on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, the 20th, 21st, and 22nd of January, 1823; precisely at 7 o'Clock each Evening, by Mr. T. CLARKE, in the Large Room, Mr. DODD'S REPERTORY, No. 28, King-Street, Manchester. Tickets for the Three Lectures, Front Seats, 5s.-A single Admission, 2s.-Back Seats and Children, 1s. 6d.-N.B. Good Fires kept.-Syllabuses may be had at the Room. NOTICE. Mr. H. F. JAMES takes the earliest Electro-Magnetic Effect of Lightning.-A violent thunder-storm occurred on the 22d of June last, at Toulouse, when the lightning passed by various metallic pipes through a house, and gave occasion to observe its strong powers of magnetization. Just under the roof, a part of the floor was completely destroyed by the lightning, and a piece of iron that had belonged to it had become so strongly magnetic, that it was able to lift a table-knife. Small iron tools were magnetized by the iron, but it lost its power in 36 hours. was sitting on a chair near the conductor through which the lightning passed; he felt no shock, but next day, on taking a case of needles from his pocket, he found them so strongly magnetized, that they hung six or seven together. Another case, containing five needles, was lying on a chimney-piece 20 feet from the conductor; they also were magnetized. There were fourteen or fifteen persons in the house, none of whom felt the electricity. It may be presumed, therefore, that the whole went through the conductor. In the present he hopes will be continued to his Son.-He has further to state of electro-magnetic science, it is easy to understand the effect on the needles and neighbouring pieces of iron. The case resembles those quoted by Sir H. Davy, from the Phil. Trans., and is an illustration of the process he recommends for the formation of powerful magnets by lightning-rods.-Ann. de Chim. WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.--- "This man, whether for his genius, his virtues, or opportunity, after his recovery from a very severe and long illness, to announce to the admirers of the FINE ARTS, that the RESTORATION of INJURED PAINTINGS, which has heretofore been carried on by HIMSELF & SON, jointly, will, in future be conducted by his Sos alone; whose experience and extensive practice has rendered him fully competent to do justice to that branch of the profession; in addition to which, his Son will continue to give lessons in DRAWING, PERSPECTIVE, and COLOURING from NATURE, as before. Mr. H. F. JAMES begs leave to return his sincere acknowledgements to those Gentlemen who have honoured him with their patronage since his residence in Manchester, and which announce that, in future, he will devote himself, (exclusively), to the LITHOGRAPHIC DEPARTMENT. Ridge-Field, Dec. 31st. 1822. TO SUBSCRIBERS. The TITLE-PAGE and INDEX for Vol. I. are now ready, and may be had GRATIS. The Manchester Xris: A LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC MISCELLANY. This Paper is Published Weekly, and may be had of the Booksellers in Manchester; of Agents in many of the principal Towns in the Kingdom; and of the News-carriers. No. 52.-VOL. II. REVIEWS. BY THE AUTHOR OF Peveril of the Peak. 1822. SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 1823. to a plain belt of buff, or of black leather. One or Sir Geoffrey Peveril (descended from an illegitimate son of the Great Norman) of the Peak, is a cheerful, loyal, old cavalier of the sevenThese worthies were ranged against the wall, each teenth century; who with royalists generally, is much embarrassed in bis fortune by the oppressive measures of the long Parliament. in his ancient, high-backed, long-legged chair; neither Ralph Bridgenorth, is a Presbyterian, who bene- looking towards, nor apparently discoursing with each fits by the prevailing policy; nevertheless, being other; but plunged in their own reflections, or awaita neighbour, an old school-fellow, and a liberaling, like an assembly of quakers, the quickening kind of man, he lives in friendly habits with power of divine inspiration. Sir G. and renders hin many services. PORTRAIT OF FENELLA. This little creature, for she was of the least and PRICE 3 d. There simile too dignified to express that vile race, who, by Sir G. has an only son, Julian Peveril; Mr. B. by a series of misfortunes finds his family slightest size of womankind, was exquisitely well pigeon rather than the rook-but at heart the same reduced to an infant daughter, and the care of this little motherless child is solicited by, and granted to, the Baronet's Lady. Julian and Alice, (the name of Miss B.) grow in sincere attachment and become lovers, each remarkable for high and virtuous principle.-The variable policy of the times, and the clashing views of the two families occasion their separation, and subject the lovers to various vicissitudes, in the course of which they meet, and ultimately are united. The licentious court of Charles the Second, and the dilemma of the Monarch himself, are strikingly depicted; particularly the character of the duped, unprincipled, Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. Many designing and perfidious, some passable and romantic, and several amiable and worthy personages, as well as a most active, extraordinary little being, are exhibited by the masterly hand of this excellent writer. His incidents are interesting, and should we at any time feel disposed to nod, he re-excites our vigilance, by the promising motto, that should particularly dull, he" at any time" prove we may be assured there is a design under it." A meeting of Presbyterian religionists, at the residence of Bridgenorth is somewhat ludicrously described ; 66 It was now lighted up for the reception of company; and five or six persons sat in it, in the plain, black, formal dress which was affected by the formal Puritans of the time, in evidence of their contempt of the manners of the laxurious court of Charles the Second; amongst whom, excess of extravagance in apparel, like excesses of every other kind, was highly fashionable. Julian at first glanced his eyes but slightly along the range of grave and severe faces which composed this society-men, sincere perhaps in their pretensions to a superior purity of conduct and morals, but in whom that high praise was somewhat chastened by an affected austerity in dress and manners, allied to those Pharisees of old, who made broad their phylacteries, and would be seen of men to fast, and to discharge with rigid punctuality the observances of the law. Their dress was almost uniformly a black cloak and doublet, cut straight and close, and undecorated with lace or embroidery of any kind, black Flemish breeches and hose, square-toed shoes, with large roses made of serge ribbon. Two or three had large loose boots of calf-leather, and almost every one was begirt with a long rapier, which was suspended by leathern thongs, formed in all her limbs, which the dress she usually tenance resembled a most beautiful miniature and around her. : The pretty mute was mistress of many little accom plishments which the Countess had caused to be taught Shelley, and other masters of the pen, whose copy- The little maiden had, besides these accomplish- cation. THE DUKE OP BUCKINGHAM'S LEVEE. We must now transport the reader to the magnificent such like, were the morning attendants of the Duke of of the horse-leech, whose cry is, Give, give.' But the levee of his Grace contained other and very differ- Jockey, my Lord, from Newmarket.-Let him ride to the devil-he has a horse of mine, and spars of his own. Any more?'-The whole ante-chamber is fall, my Lord-knights and squires, doctors and dicers.'The dicers, with the doctors in their pockets, I presume. Counts, captains, and clergymen.'-' You are alliterative, Jerningham,' said the Duke, and that is a In this entertaining little volume we recognise an old friend or two with which amongst others we were favoured several months ago by the kindness of the author. We also find The proof you are poetical. Hand me my writing things. Falls of Ohiopyle," a tale which, without know ing the author, we highly admired in the July No. of that amusing and very superior Miscellany-the London Magazine. -Getting half out of bed-thrusting one arm into a brocade night-gown, deeply furred with sables, and one foot into a velvet slipper, while the other pressed in primitive nudity the rich carpet-bis Grace, without thinking farther on the assembly without, began to pen a few lines of a satirical poem; then suddenly stopped -threw the pen into the chimney-exclaimed that the humor was past-and asked his attendant if there were any letters.-Jerningham produced a huge packet. What the devil!' said his Grace, do you think I will read all these ?—I am like Clarence, who asked a cup of wine, and was soused into a butt of sack. I mean is there any thing that presses? This letter, your Grace,' said Jerningham, concerning the Yorkshire mortgage. Did I not bid thee carry it to old Gatheral, my steward?'-'I did, my Lord,' answered the other; but Gatheral says there are difficulties.'Let the usurers foreclose, then-there is no difficulty in that; and out of a hundred manors, I shall scarce miss one,' answered the Duke. And hark ye, bring me my chocolate.'-Nay, my Lord, Gatheral does not say it is impossible-only difficult.' And what is the use of him if he cannot make it easy? But you are all born to make difficulties,' replied the Duke. Nay, if your Grace approves the terms in this schedule, and pleases to sign it, Gatheral will undertake for the matter,' answered Jerningham. And could you not have said so at first, you blockhead?' said the Duke, signing the paper, without looking at the contents. CENSURE OF THE KING UPON BUCKINGHAM. Now, Heaven forgive thee thy hypocrisy, George,' said the King, hastily. I would rather hear the devil preach religion than thee teach patriotism. Thou is the soul of every thing that emanates from| give a mysterious awe to this ultima Thule of We are not frequently tempted to peruse a Romance; but, in this instance having some knowledge of the gentleman from whose pen they came, we began to peruse the December Tales with avidity, nor were we disappointed. Those who delight in terrific and well told tales ghost story to while away a December evening,' "of the supernatural, and who love a good will do well to read "the Sea Spirit," and "the Wanderings of an Immortal;" "the Falls of Ohiopyle," and " Mary Stukely," will have many admirers; and the more grave will find something to their taste in the "Recollections." Our limits this week will not permit us to devote as much space to this work as we intended; but we hope to resume it again, and give a further notice. In the mean time we give as a speci men THE CHURCH-YARD. That spirit is never idle that doth waken Among my stated rambles there is one which I retread with pleasure, unalloyed by repetiknowest as well as I, that the nation is in a scarlet tion;-it is a path which leads to a church-yard; fever for fear of the poor Catholics, who are not two men to five hundred; and that the public mind is so barassed with new narrations of conspiracy, and fresh horrors every day, that people have as little real sense of what is just or unjust, as men who talk in their sleep of what is sense or nonsense. I have borne, and and here I have lingered for hours, unwearied, occupied by the reflections produced by surrounding objects. The spot of which I speak is situated on an eminence, which commands a lovely prospect. I have been seated on my favourite seat, a large mossy stone, over which a spreading beech throws its shade, when the close of day was approaching :-there was the stone church, with its sombre, ivy-grown walls and steeple; the thick leafy grove, with its part of a Sovereign, and save my people from doing and the little murmuring rivulet, that wandered music-breathing inhabitants; the green hill, injustice, even in their own despite.' borne with it-I have seen blood flow on the scaffold, fearing to thwart the nation in its fury-and I pray to God that I or mine be-not called on to answer for it. I will no longer swim with the torrent, which honour and conscience call upon ne to stem-I will act the Death is your only sure balance in which to weigh the real worth or importance of indivi duals; the magic girdle, that fits none but those whose deeds have been pure-the wild steed, that none can manage, but those who encounter him undismayed-the infallible touchstone of greatness or power; he is like the gust, which blows away the thistle-down of splendour and vanity, and exposes the nakedness which lies beneath; he is the best of friends, who relieves us from our cares-our greatest enemy, who bereaves us of that we love best-our life; in short, he is the most paradoxical of things, who is every day present, but never seen-the most unwelcome of visitors, who, whenever he comes, is an unwished-for guest. I am fond of a church, particularly an old one; it is, as it were, the home for the soul; the refuge from the world; and I am fond of its venerable antique gloom-its painted windows its monuments, which speak of "the dead and their house, the grave"-and of its music: there is an awful, solemn beauty in church music, which stills each unhallowed thoughteach wish that speaks of earth-and throws its calm of holiness over the mind: the deep roll of the organ-the thrilling, enthusiasm-creating sound of human voices, trembling to the throne of eternity, which, when I think of, I reflect with complacency upon the abodes of monkish superstition Those deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heavenly, pensive Contemplation dwells, And ever-musing Melancholy reigns--and could almost wish that I had been an inhabitant of them. Blest with peace, and undisturbed with vice and folly-Pshaw! pshaw! I am dreaming: and these are the dreams of a poet, doomed to wake an essay writer. But there is another ornament to a churchthe greatest, perhaps, in my estimation-its bells-its organs of speech, with which it calls together fellow-worshippers. at its bottom, over its pebble-gemmed bed, dashing its light spray over its violet banks; December Tales. London, Whittakers, 1823. the white-washed cottage and barn, with the horse-shoe nailed over the door, the lingering Many of our readers have, no doubt, perused relic of drooping faith in demonology; the with infinite amusement Mr. Hogg's delightful spreading fields, and clump of trees, and thinly volumes-the Winter Evening Tales; and many scattered habitations; and, farther on, the mamore may have dwelt upon the wild and power-jestic windings of the river, beyond which dim fully imagined "Sea Stories," attributed to Mr. hills raised their eternal barrier, to close all John Howison, which appeared in Blackwood's further view; and, most beautiful of all, the I love these eloquent inanimations-these Magazine. If either of these have afforded them deep, gentle shade of evening, sinking and red-metallic tractors of the soul, whose vibrations pleasure, we can recommend the little volume dening on hill, and plain, and valley-it is call up into view the past, which is fled; the before us to their notice as being upon the model then that the soul, emancipated from earthly present, which dies in its existence; and the of Hogg and Howison. We do not here mean thoughts and earthly hopes, holds closer symfuture, which will fade away like its predecesto say that it is an imitation of these two "great pathy with the scenes around, and holier vision- sors that simple stroke of two pieces of metal story tellers," but it is upon the same model, ings fit before the mind; and what spot could gives me an infinity of ideas-the burst into life, and by one of the same school, and we think better harmonize with such thoughts than the and quick sinking into nothing-the reiteration the author may take his seat beside them. The one I have described? of the strokes, one succeeding another, in meaTales which it contains are varied and rather A church-yard is, of all places, the one most sured intervals-all speak of the mutability of unequal, but there is an ease, flow, and richness calculated to call up those feelings which, ab- every thing earthly, and the rapid succession of in the diction, and a depth and intensity of feel-stracted from the pleasures, are uncontaminated beings, which bloom, and perish, and are foring displayed throughout, with which we do not gotten. often meet. Let those who have been delighted with the genuine English goodness of heart which is displayed in the writings of Charles Lamb, turn to one of the Essays (for there is an occasional Essay or two) and they will find the same philanthropical and liberal spirit which with the evils, of the world: in the evening, Lake a demon thing, I cannot admire the Mahometan custom of employing the human voice as a substitute for bells: methinks the invitation, which calls to such exercises of devotion, should be addressed to the mind in some sound which may awaken suitable thoughts, not spoken in the every-day dialect of business and pleasure. An English steeple will continue, in my thinking, to be very preferable to a Turkish minaret. And what is it that lends this magic to so simple a music?-what is it but that which lends beauty to every thing-the fertile power of association? It is the connexion which subsists between it and the inward workings of the soul the relation which it bears to the operations of life and of death, which renders it thus pleasing, It is this principle of association which is the vivifying soul of matter, which gives interest and beauty to inanimate objects-which engages the soul through the medium of the senseswhich is the spirit of poetry;-it is not the mere sentiment, conveyed by the words of the poet-it is the flood of sweet and gentle reminiscences which starts upon the reader, varied, as it must of necessity be, in different individuals, as their respective views, characters, situations, and mental organizations differ, from which is derived the highest pleasure of poetical compositions. I am not young; I am, indeed, approaching to the period when I shall cease to indite those dotings of age; but in these recurrences to the feelings of past days, consists my fondest pleasure these, and a few other loved associations, linger in my memory, and shall sink with me to my peaceful bed. It was a saying worthy of Pope, that he should not care to have an old stump pulled down which he had known in his childhood. I am deeply imbued, I might say saturated, with such feelings. I have a piece of an oak, which grew by the school where I was educated, and has long since fallen a prey to the axe of the spoiler. I remember, as well as I do any thing, the cutting down of the venerable tree; how we crowded about it, and how each busy discipulus was cutting off relics of their old friend. The branches, which were left by the workmen as useless, were gathered up, and, in the evening, made into a bonfire; then, too, we had a feast, and we sat round the glowing embers, with every one his apple, his gingerbread, his nuts, and his glass of currant wine. Then tales of school heroism, and school mischief, were recounted; and still the wit became brighter as the fire decayed-the "mirth and fun grew fast and furious." Ah! those were happy days. I often visit this scene of my infant years ;the school is there, with the stone owl, with its goggle eyes, perched above it; there is the playground; the dark stone walls, with their soft and solemn brownness-but I will write an essay on the school and my school days-there are many faces, too, but they are strange to methose of my time, alas! where are they?-they are scattered over the world-those that survive, at least; there was Zouch; and C, with his bright wit and clear judgment; and Phillips, with his lively sallies of good-humoured mirth; and dozens, whom I could mention. One of them I must mention; 'tis R, the most singular, inoffensive mortal I ever met with. R- - fell in love-a thing of common occurrence and slight moment with most men; but it was otherwise with him: his constitution was delicate, and his feelings sensitive beyond the conception of any but his intimates; to such a being, to love as he loved, was an exertion of energies almost alarming. He succeeded -the object of his adoration loved him-the day was fixed for their marriage-before it came, she died, and R's fond ties were broken. From that hour, all his time was spent in retracing the walks they had taken together. There was a rose tree, which she had planted, and R watched over it with incessant care; for "he was the slave of sympathy." I found it near him one day: he said to me-" You see that tree-I shall live as long as it ; no longer?" He would not be persuaded that it was a mere whim of the imagination. Two months after this, he died. I passed through the gardenthe tree was withered. I am perfectly sensible not half my readers will believe this story. To those who do-who will look upon it as an instance of the strong power of the imagination over the mental and physical faculties-I relate this short notice of a gentle and innocent being. Poor R―! it is an humble stone that covers his remains, in yonder church-yard: his name is unknown, save to a few, but by those it will be long honoured, loved, and wept over. THE ROMAUNT OF LLEWELLYN ; (Continued.) CANTO I-PART III. Leave we, some while, Llewellyn and his songs! The story of a heart with passion's lightning riven! XL. As some bewilder'd bird upon the water, So, may I, like that lonely bird, complain, Alone here sit I by the taper's light, XLV. This is the hour when all is silent,-save The ceaseless tumults of this anguish'd soul; Save the dark thoughts, that, like the ocean-wave, Untamed, untameable, for ever roll! Now reigneth memory without control, The queen of sorrow, weeping o'er the past, The wayward sorceress of joy and dole; And troublous thoughts drive thro' my bosom's waste, As o'er the desert sweeps the Samiel's baleful blast. XLVI. What are my thoughts?-They are of days gone by, And happier years; hopes that have died forlorn; Sad recollections of departed joy, And keen regret for what may ne'er return; The deep, dark, dumb despair I long have worn, That racks my bosom, and wellnigh would weep; But tears come not to eyes that hotly burn: For what are tears, when feelings lie so deep In their sad cell, the heart, where they for age should sleep? XLVII. Low in my bosom lies the secret germe, Whence springeth bootless bale and cureless care, Eating the heart,-as in the bud the worm Feeds on the centre, but doth not appear. There is the well of many a weeping teare; There is the cave of many a sorrowing sighe. Howbe, as I did say, mine eyes are sear At times, and may not weep,-yet sometimes I Allow that sad resource to grief-struck memory. XLVIII. Not alway was I wretched.-There hath bees That time we all have known,-so sweet, so dear; Or seen how often seeming smiles do hide A heartless heart;-or, to our cost, have found, That treachery more than troth doth in this world abound. L. 'Tis then the green and kingcup-decked field, Its glory, then in clouds its brightness did conceal Yet, doth the memory of those sweet days Of boyhood's joys, in many a by-gone year, Alas, poor fool;-how didst thou then neglect LIII. 'Tis a new world meseemeth-far 'ess fair Than that I knew, while yet, in boy,ood's hours, |