Ah! if instead of bolt and bar,

The maiden had but known
The kindly look,-the gentle word,-
She never would have flown.

tree

In floods of glory shine:-
To wander in the shady lanes,
Or in the greenwood stray-
To me it is the loveliest hour

Throughout the live-long day.
But father, when the darkening sky
Sheds gloom upon the earth;
When the birds are silent in the boughs,
And the loathsome bat comes forth.
When the owl is shrieking from her hole
In the ivy-mantled tower,

I tremble as I walk alone

In that dull and dreary hour.
Father, you know the dark-eyed youth
Who came from distant lands,
To soothe his grey-haired mother's age,
By the labour of his hands;
Sometimes I've met him in the way,
As I've trembled in the gloom,
And with a gentle brother's care

He has brought me safely home.
Father, the moon and stars have shone
In the sky above my head,
As together we have moved along
By the path where I have led.
And oh, the wond'rous tales he tells
Of the billows' wanton sport!
I have ever thought, as we wandered on,
That the way was very short.
Father, he says that there are lands
Where the girls are very fair;
And wear rich jewels on their arms,
And pearls amid their hair.

But though they must have looked like
queens

In such gaudy garments drest,
Yet still he says that he loves the girls
Of his own poor village best.
Father, he is a pious son,

So all the neighbours say,
And as civil as the other lads,
Though he's been so far away.
He often lends a helping hand
With my pitcher at the well,
Or bears my basket when I go
With your dinner to the dell.
Father, you are no longer young,
And I cannot bear to see

How very hard you're forced to work,
To support yourself and me.

I often wish you had a son

Who could share your heavy task,
While you might, at our cottage-door,
In the ev'ning sunshine bask.
Father, a stout and willing heart
Should stand in lieu of gold;
For industry will prosper still,
As we are often told.

I know of one would gladly share
Your labour, but he's poor-
May he not tell his tale himself?-
Father, he's at the door!"

Our patriotic feelings are too strong to
suffer us to pass over the song bearing the
name of "The Sea-shore." The author is

Charles Swain, esq., a name quite new to
us, but his strain is creditable both to his
talent and his feelings.

"The ships! the ships of England! how
gallantly they sweep

By town and city, fort and tower-defenders
of the deep.

We build no bastions 'gainst the foe, no
mighty walls of stone:

Our warlike castles breast the tide-the
boundless sea's their own.

The ships! the ships of England! what

British heart is cold

From quench'd Armada's vaunted power, to
glorious Trafalgar:

From Philip, to Napoleon-when set Bri

tannia's star?

The ships! the ships of England! where'er
the surges roar :

Along the dark Atlantic, by the wild East

Indian shore

Where icebergs flash destruction down, or
sultry breezes play-
The flag of England floats alone, and triumphs
on her way!

Then wake your songs of gratitude to those who brave the sea,

And peril life, that ye may live, and still prove fair and free.

Amid your harvest-fields, oh bid this earnest prayer prevail

God guard the ships of England o'er whatever sea they sail.

We observe, in several of the Annuals, contributions by a writer of the name of Hollings, they have much merit. The "Spring Nosegay," is among the prettiest articles in the volume before us; and we abstain from extracting it simply because we have not room.

The outside of an Annual being of some consequence, we are bound to say that the exterior of the Amulet is remarkably dowdy.

Heath's Picturesque Annual: Travelling
Sketches on the Sea Coast of France,
with beautifully finished Engravings,
from Drawings by Clarkson Staufield,
London:
esq. By Leitch Ritchie, esq.
1834. Longman and Co.
THIS volume commences with a bold speci-
men of the puff direct. It is not usual, we
believe, in respectable publications, for the

To the honour of his native isle, to the death-title-page to announce that the engravings
which ornament the work are "beautifully
finished," or to bestow upon them any other
commendatory epithets. Why the pub-
lishers of the Picturesque Annual have
departed from the established usage: why
they have distrusted the proverb, that "good
wine needs no bush," we know not; but we
hope that the example which they have set
will find no followers. The engravings are
however well executed, and are not unde-
serving the description volunteered by Messrs.
Longman and Co.; and, as we have no in-
terest in the work, perhaps the reader will
be better satisfied with our praise than that
of the publishers'. To the genius of Stan
field it is quite unnecessary to add our tes-
timony. The announcement that the draw-
ings are from his pencil, is sufficient.
Much of it is
The literary part of the work is scarcely
worthy of the pictorial.
uninteresting; but, as we wish to quote a
favourable specimen, we shall extract the
description of the fatal wreck of the vessel
which bore the son of Henry I. of England
and his bride, which is picturesque and
spirited.

Where sweeps the wind, or swells the wave,
our vessels glad the view;
The wondering savage marks their decks, and
stays his swift canoe :

The Greenlander forsakes his sledge to watch
our distant sail

Pass like a spirit of the deep beneath the
moonlight pale.

Oh! wives that love your cottage homes!
oh, maids that love the green!
And youths, in whose firm fearless limbs a
free-born grace is seen--

Give honour to the noble ships that fame and

freedom lend,

And bid your songs of gratitude from hill
and dale ascend.

What horrors of the midnight storm our reck-
less seamen know,

When thunders rattle overhead and billows
plunge below-
When howls the long ferocious blast, like

some funereal strain,

And fast and far the vessel drives along the

dreadful main.

How oft the cannon of the foe hath struck
their dauntless breast,

While ye smiled by the social fire, or found

the balm of rest.

How oft the shriek of drowning men the

startled vulture caught,
When ye had closed your doors in peace, and
home's sweet pleasures sought.

Henry I. surnamed Beau-clerc, on account of his love of letters, inherited much of the talent, but no part of the territories of the Conqueror, of whom he was the third At the death of his father he and last son. found himself rich in gold, but with only the power over men's spirits which gold can purchase, while his elder brother reigned in Normandy, and the other sate on the throne of England.

"The landless prince, however, possessed a keen eye as well as a bold heart. His brothers were quarrelling about their respective heritages, and Robert of Normandy (surnamed Courte-heuse,) was glad to obtain an ally by selling Henry the Cotentin. Here he sate down gazing eagerly at the rest of

entered Rouen in triumph, with his de- in the still waters, like wild beasts sleeping
throned brother at his heels. He then put in the sun. In the distance the royal bark
out the eyes of his victim, in order to de-appeared like a speck in the horizon. The
stroy effectually the duke without committing vessel flew along the deep with undiminished
fratricide, and sent him to Cardiff, in Wales, force.
where he died in his prison.

"Beware of the Raz de Catte!' cried a voice of alarm. The caution was received with a laugh of derision, for the reef was still distant. The next moment the rushing bark struck against a sunken rock, which tore her from stem to stern. It is said that the shriek which arose was heard by the king.

this noble inheritance, which his mess of pottage had been unable to purchase. Robert in the meantime carried an army into England, and his rival brother ran to meet him with thirty thousand men. The Norman prince was beaten; and, two years after, his visit was returned by William the Red, who "Behold then this youngest son, this wrested from him the country of Caux, and landless prince, on the throne of England obtained by treaty some of the most impor- and Normandy, and one of the most powertant places in Normandy. Among others, ful kings in Europe! He married his daughMont St. Michel and Cherbourg, in the ter-ter Matilda to the Emperor Henry V.; and, ritory which had been sold to Henry. In after sustaining victoriously on the continent those days it was necessary to take by force a war with the King of France, contracted what was ceded by policy; and the duke a marriage between his son William and the "The shock was so violent, that the crew and the king, uniting their armies, marched daughter of the Count of Anjou, and pro-and passengers were thrown here and there, against their brother. Henry held out posed to return to England. one upon the other, without the slightest stoutly in the fortress of Mont St. Michel, power of directing their own motions. The but at last surrendered, after being so much young prince found himself, as if by a special distressed by thirst, that he sent to ask a interference of providence, in the little skiff drink of water from his brother Robert, who which had been attached to the vessel. Incomplied with the request. stead of making for the land, however, he remained gazing franticly on the drowning

above the water. Whose? With the hereditary daring of his race, he seized the oar and plunged his skiff among the gasping wretches. The result may be imagined. The frail vessel was literally torn down into the deep: and in another moment three heads only, out of more than two hundred, were seen above the surface. One of the survivors was the captain of the BlancheNef. He had been dragged under the water by the crowd, but, familiar with the element, rose again like a cork.

"On this William, his only legitimate son, the hopes of Henry, rested. Breathing at last, after so many years of turmoil, he saw himself, in imagination, the continuer of the proud race of the Conqueror, and the "Robert then carried an army into Asia, father of a line of kings. The blood he had to fight the infidel. He performed prodigies shed was not too much for this; his treach-crowd. In the midst a female head se of valour, led the forlorn hope at the assault eries, his cruelties might be pardoned, with of Jerusalem, and refused the crown of the such a goal in view. The Red King was no new kingdom, which was offered to him. Ou more; Robert was languishing in blinduess his return to Europe affairs had changed. The and solitude in a dungeon; his great enemy, Red King was dead, and his younger brother and France, had become his friend, and her vassal, Henry, by one of those sudden changes stoutest partizan his son-in-law: his daughin the great drama of history, which look like ter shared the throne of an emperor! Henry the fantastic tricks of the stage, sat upon prepared with a swelling heart for the emhis throne. Robert would have flown to as- barkation of his court, consisting of the sert his rights of primogeniture, but was de-flower of English and Norman chivalry, and tained for some time on his way by the dark of this precious son, who was the key-stone eyes of an Italian damsel called Sybilla, of his wonderful fortunes. whom he married. Then came a literal "The weather was calm: there was not “Where is the prince?' said he, looking wound of a more deadly nature; he was a cloud in the whole expanse of the heavens,round on the desert sea. struck by a poisoned arrow, and lay at and not a ripple on the rast bosom of the the point of death, there being no possi-channel. The proud barge of the king, in bility of cure, except by the sacrifice of ano- the midst of cheers that seemed to read the ther life, as the poison could only be ex-very sky, left the harbour of Barfleur; and, tracted by being sucked out of the wound by as the monarch looked back to see the the lips. Sybilla seized the moment when prince's vessel follow in his wake, the idea her husband was asleep to perform an act of no doubt occurred to his mind that the very holy and beautiful devotion. She sucked elements of nature were now his friend. the wound, and died; or, according to the chronicle of Normandy, lived. We would take the word of the chronicle of Normandy for a thousand pounds!

"Another cup,' cried the gallant lords on the pier: 'shame to see our king thus leave the shores of his own Cotentin!" Aud, as a deep health was drank, another shout "Robert at length reached his duchy; and, arose from the multitude, which rolled like finding his subjects still faithful, raised an thunder among the cliffs of Barfleur. army, and landed at Portsmouth. Henry, "Drink, mariners, drink with us, for as crafty as he was brave, flew to the rendez-❘ we are brothers of the sea.' And the mavous, prepared to receive his brother eitherriners drank. with a sharp sword or a wheedling tongue. He chose the latter instrument. An iuterview was brought about; and the result was, that the crown of England and the Co-prince!' tentin in Normandy were secured by treaty to Henry, while Robert returned to his dismembered dominions with a pension of three thousand marks.

"It was inconvenient, however, to pay this pension; and Robert, about a year after, paying a visit to his brother, with his usual gallant thoughtlessness, was laid hold of, and condemned to give up either his money or his freedom. He returned to Normandy, which he found in the midst of a civil war, kindled no doubt by the agents of Henry. Henry himself appeared in the scene as a pacificator. He conquered Normandy, and

"And now a goblet for the prince!'
"No: for the bride!'
“‘One for the bride, and another for the

“A third for them both!' cried the jolly
captain; for they two are one.'
“And now, here is a good voyage!" And
when the last toast was drank, and the last

shout shouted, the rowers took their places,
and the youthful bride nestled close by her
youthful husband in the stern, and the
Blanche-Nef darted like an arrow from the
land.

66

Songs and laughter filled the air as the joyous party glided along the crystal sea. The hearts of some were merry with wine, and those of others intoxicated with love. The rocks of the Raz de Catte lay to the right

"He is drowned,' replied the swimmers, as they made for the land.

"Malheur a moi!' cried the captain; and he sunk once more, and disappeared for ever.

"It is said by historians that a smile was never more seen on the face of the King of England."

Here we take leave of this volume, observing only that the binding is positively disgraceful.

Friendship's Offering and Winter's Wreath,
a Christmas and New Year's Prisent.
Loudon 1834. Smith, Elder, and Co.
FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING contains some agree-
able prose
- some pretty verse- and some
good engravings. It is moreover hand-
somely bound; and these qualifications are,
we presume, all that can reasonably be ex-
pected in an Annual. The veteran Cole-
ridge is among the contributors, and to
him belong the following verses :

MY BAPTISMAL BIRTH DAY.

Lines composed on a sick Bed, under severe
bodily Suffering, on my spiritual Birth-
day, October 28.

"Born unto God in Christ-in Christ my all!
What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply,
rather
Than forfeit that best name by which we call
The HOLY ONE, the Almighty GOD, OUR

The heir of heaven, henceforth I dread not
death,

In Christ I live, in Christ I draw the breath
Of the true life. Let sea, and earth, and sky,
Wage war against me: on my front I show
Their mighty Master's seal! In vain they try
To end my life who can but end my woe.
Is that a death-bed where the CHRISTIAN
lies?
Yes!-but not his: 'tis Death itself there dies.
In this Annual we have Mrs. Norton again;
and we care not how often we meet with
her. What a happy combination of poetical,
womanly, and maternal feeling, must there
have been to produce the stanzas

"TO MY CHIld.

They say thou art not fair in other's eyes,
Thou who dost seem so beautiful in mine;
The stranger coldly passes thee, nor asks
What name, what home, what parentage are
thine,

What a change! And even here the beauOf the embellishments, we most like "My First Love," because we can persuade our-tiful line, that which speaks most to the selves that it bears a resemblance (and a heart, in the above passage, distant one will do,) to our own "first love;" and that's a very good reason for liking it.

The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott,
Edin-
Bart. Vol. VII. "Marmion."
London :
burgh, 1833: Robert Cadell.
Whittaker and Co.

66

"Mine own romantic town," was no less than twice in danger of being aside in favour of

'Dun Edin's tower and town;" as will appear to any one who takes the trouble of examining the lithograph.

Again, the original of the magnificent Or all Sir Walter Scott's works, "Marmion," in our opinion, and in that of most of his battle-piece at the conclusion of "Marcontemporary poets, is by far the most bril-mion," was at first no more than this— liant. It exhibits all the characteristics of "Ever the stubborn spears made good his genius in their highest perfection. His Their dark impenetrable wood; descriptive powers, his chivalrous feelings, Each Scot stepp'd where his comrade stood, The instant that he fell, his heraldic and antiquarian lore, his historic Till the last ray of parting light, knowledge, and it is doubtless the best Then ceased perforce the dreadful fight, And sunk the battle's yell. specimen of his peculiar metrical style. The Lay of the Last Minstrel," which preceded The skilful Surrey's sage commands But carelessly, as though it were by chance, it, was constructed on the model of Cole-Drew from the strife his shatter'd bands. Bestows on thee an unadmiring glance. ridge's" Christabel." In the "Lady of the Lake," which followed, and the succeeding Art thou not beautiful? To me it seems As though the blue veins in thy temples fair-poems, he abandoned the ballad-metre almost The crimson in thy full and innocent lips The light that falls upon thy shining hairThe varying colour in thy rounded cheekMust all of nature's endless beauty speak. The very pillow where thy head hath prest Through the past night, a picture brings to

Yet no gaze follows thee but mine. I fear
Love hath bewitched my eyes-my only dear.
Beauty is that which dazzles-that which
strikes-

That which doth paralyze the gazer's tongue
Till he hath found some rapturous words of
praise

To bear his proud and swelling thoughts
along;

Sunbeams are beautiful-and gilded halls-
Wide terraces-and showery waterfalls.
Yet are there things which through the gazing

eye

Reach the full soul, and thrill it into love,
Unworthy of those rapturous words of praise,
Yet prized perchance the brightest things
above;

A nook that was our childhood's resting-place
A smile upon some dear familiar face.
And therefore did the discontented heart
Create that other word its thoughts to dress,
And what it could not say was BEAUTIFUL,
Yet gained the dearer term of LOVELINESS.
The loved are lovely-so art thou to me
Child, in whose face strange eyes no beauty
see."

altogether, to put in its place the octosyllabic
couplet, which had seldom before been used
in serious, far less in romantic poetry of any
length, and of which the very name, as
usually applied, was the Hudibrastic. "Mar-
mion" came between, before the poet's ear
had lost its ballad relish, and after he had

escaped from the peculiar modulation of
Coleridge, in which no one has succeeded
except Coleridge himself, in the few stanzas
with which he has thought proper to fa-

vour us.

This edition of "Marmion" is singularly
curious, on account of its supplying several
various readings. Some of the most splendid
passages in the poem were after-thoughts:
for instance, in the passage which is very
judiciously lithographed as a specimen of
his handwriting, (alas! how different from
the handwriting of his later days!) What
can be more remarkably superior than the
second conception is to the first. "Dele,
(says Sir Walter Scott) the last two lines of
the last stanza last sent." We must print
the preceding verses, as well as those which

are marked to be "deled."
"Tis better sitting still at rest,
Than rising but to fall;
And while these words they did exchange,
They reached the camp's extremest range."

In place of these we have the following:
"Still on the spot Lord Marmion staid,
For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd.

When sated with the martial show
That peopled all the plain below,
The wandering eye could o'er it go,
And mark the distant city glow

With gloomy splendour red;
For on the smoke-wreaths huge and slow
That round her sable turrets flow,

The sun his beams had shed;
And tinged them with a lustre proud,
Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud.
Such dusky grandeur clothed the height,
Where the huge castle holds its state,
And all the steep slope down,
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky,
Piled deep and massy, close and high,
Mine own romantic town!

Their loss his foemen knew;
Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,
They melted from the field as snow,
When streams are swoln and south winds blow,

Melts from the mountain blue.
By various march their scatter'd bands,
Disorder'd, gain'd the Scottish lands.-
Day dawns on Flodden's dreary side,
And show'd the scene of carnage wide:
There, Scotland, lay thy bravest pride!"

There are fine verses here, no doubt; but we beg leave to compare them with what has grown out of this germ. Here is the finished battle, as it now appears.

"The stubborn spear-men still made good
The dark impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood,

The instant that he fell.

No thought was there of dastard flight;
Link'd in the serried phalanx tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well;
Till utter darkness closed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded king.
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shatter'd bands;
And from the charge they drew,
As mountain-waves from wasted lands

Sweep back to ocean blue.
Then did their loss his foemen know;
Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,
They melted from the field as snow,
When streams are swoln and south winds blow,
Dissolves in silent dew.

Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash,
While many a broken band,
Disorder'd, through her currents dash,
To gain the Scottish land;
To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale,
To raise the universal wail.
Tradition, legend, tune, and song,
Shall many an age that wail prolong:
Still from the sire the son shall hear
Of the stern strife, and carnage drear,
Of Flodden's fatal field,
Where shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear,
And broken was her shield!

We own that it is, in a great measure, useless to reprint this; because all who feel an interest in poetry must have it by heart; but still our readers may not be the worse for having it in their power to contrast the passages, and to compare the original conception

certain stalls in the markets he may get shew-up of that luckless wight, Baron | approach, he laid his hands on them, and potatoes, eggs, fish, cold meats, pattées, &c., d'Haussez. We were the first to expose the stroked and pursued their pains from place and dine for ten or twelve kopeks. Black folly and pretension of this ex-minister of to place till they went out of them."'" bread generally costs about three kopeks the marine. The three principal Quarterlies But Ireland must yield the palm to France, pound, and is never higher than five kopeks. have since done him justice. We amused and Greatrakes to Mesmer. He was a great White bread sells at eight to ten kopeks per ourselves with a few shots at him, and the genius. Thus did he enjoy himself: pound. A Russian prefers rye bread at din-heavy dragoons of literature have now ridden ner, as being the most solid. If he wishes a him down. Egyptian antiquites are learnluncheon, he can get a small pie with fish edly discussed in the next paper; and this or meat in it for three or four kopeks. This is followed by one of a lighter description,

is the living of a common labourer in the city or towns; but, if you take a peep into his cottage or izba, at home, in the bosom of

a review of the seventh volume of the "Me-
moirs of the Duchess d'Abrantes. Pellico's
Tragedies receive a very fair and candid

notice; after which we find a very amusing
article on "Animal Magnetism." The his-
tory of this curious imposture is traced from
a very early period. One of the oldest prac-
titioners in this way was a Mr. Valentine
Greatrakes, of whom the reviewer thus
speaks:

"The house which Mesmer inhabited was delightfully situated; his rooms spaicous and coloured blinds shed a dim religious and sumptuously furnished; stained glass light; mirrors gleamed at intervals along the walls; a mysterious silence was preand occasionally the melodious sounds of served, delicate perfumes floated in the air, the harmonica or the voice came to lend their aid to his magnetic powers. His salons became the daily resort of all that was brilliant and spirituel in the Parisian fashionable world. Ladies of rank, whom indolence, had filled with vapours or nervous affections; voluptuous indulgence, or satiety of pleasures,

his family, his domestic comforts are not to be despised. He has his own beef, butter, eggs, milk, &c. The clothing of his family is all made at home, from his own wool and flax, when winter covers the ground with snow, and agricultural labours are suspended. He has no delicacies, but he certainly wants for nothing that is wholesome, good, aud "He was an hypochondriacal Irishman, nourishing. Should he feel inclined, he who, after some years of active service under makes beer and mead, for hops and honey Cromwell, having given himself up to indo-men of luxurious habits, enervated by enare abundant throughout Russia. His gar-lence and gloomy meditations, began to have joyment, who had drained sensuality of all

den is well stocked with potatoes, turnips, carrots, onions, and cabbages. Of the latter he always lays in a large stock salted for winter, cured after the Dutch manner, and is a very healthy food. Thus far for his physi

cal wants."

And well they are supplied.

Pray is the author of this pamphlet any relation of the celebrated Don Carlos de

Silva?

THE PERIODICALS.
[Continued.]

visions, and was at last impressed with what
he calls an impulse or strange persuasion'
that there was bestowed on him the gift of
curing the king's evil. He mentioned this
to his wife, who told him he was a fool;
but, not being content with this explanation,
he determined on a trial of his skill, which
accordingly he made a few days after on one
William Maher, of Salterbridge, in the parish
of Lismore,' who had the king's evil very
grievously in his eyes, cheek, and throat.
On him Mr. Greatrakes laid hands and
prayed, and with such happy effect, that in
three days the eye was almost quite whole,
and the node, which was almost as big as a

pullet's egg, was suppurated, and the throat
glory I speak it,) within a month discharged
strangely amended; and, to be brief, (to God's
itself quite, and was perfectly healed; and
so continues, God be praised.'

that it could offer, and gained in return a shattered constitution and premature old age, came in crowds to seek after the delightful emotions and novel sensations which this approached with imaginations heated by mighty magician was said to dispense. They curiosity and desire; they believed because that was required for the action of the magthey were ignorant, and this belief was all netic charm. The women, always the most ardent in enthusiasm, first experienced yawnings, stretchings, then slight nervous spasms, and finally, crises of excitation, acTHE Foreign Quarterly is a publication hommes beaux et robustes comme des Hercording as the assistant magnetisers (jeunes that we are always glad to see. Its office is so important and so well performed, that cules,) multiplied and prolonged the soft passes from the perusal. This journal has now been The emotions once begun were soon transwe are sure to derive both pleasure and profit or attouchemens by which the magnetic influence was supposed to be communicated. before the puplic for several years, a fact of mitted to the rest, as we know one hysteriwhich it may be presumed certain magniloquent weekly critics must be aware. How, "This signal success was of course a all others similarly predisposed in the same cal female, if affected, will induce an attack in with the knowledge of the existence of such great comfort and encouragement, and was a journal, they could affirm that the English followed by a number of other impulses,' apartment. In the midst of this strange public had no means of becoming acquainted informing him in succession that he could scene entered Mesmer, clothed in a long with foreign literature, and announce them- cure ulcers, ague, fever, falling sickness, flowing robe of lilac-coloured silk richly selves as the first persons who had either aches and lameness; and finally, that he could embroidered with golden flowers, and holdcourage or ability to come forward to dispel cast out the devil; which last exploit he per- ing with an air of authority and magic gravity, ing in his hand a long white waud. Advancthis lamentable ignorance, is incomprehen- formed on a hysterical woman, hunting the he seemed to govern the life and movements sible. The Foreign Quarterly may appeal foul spirit up and down her throat with great of the individuals in crises. Women pantto its past volumes as evidence of the spirit perseverance, until at length, with great of its proprietors, and the ability of its con-violence of belching, (which did almost choak ing were threatened with suffocation-they tributors. But it would be idle to refute her, and force her eyes to start out of her must be unlaced; others tore the walls, or calumnies which are issued only in the way head,) it went forth, and so the woman rolled themselves on the ground, with strong of trade, and the value of which is calculated went away well.' spasms in the throat, and occasionally according to the number of pence they are "These supernatural cures attracted the uttering loud shrieks-the violence of the likely to bring in. We pass with pleasure notice of the clergy of the diocese, and Mr. crises must be moderated. He approached, from quackery and presumption to talent Greatrakes found himself cited to appear in traced over their bodies certain lines with The present number of the Foreign Quar-some debate, he was prohibited from laying cold or burning vapours through their entire the Dean's Court at Lismore, where, after his wand; they became instautly calm, acknowledged his power, and felt streams of terly contains several valuable articles. The on his hands for the future-a clear prece-frames, according to the directions in which first is a very elaborate exposition of the dent for the celebrated ordonnance forbidsystem of education adopted in Prussia. There ding any more wonders to be wrought at the is a good deal of general reasoning, upon the merits of which different opinions will be formed. Victor Cousin has furnished the text. "The History of Italian Freedom" carries us back into the interesting period of middle-age history. The third article is a

and intelligence.

tomb of the Abbé Paris. Mr. Greatrakes,
however, like the little monk mentioned by
Voltaire, had got such a trick of working
miracles, that he could not long restrain
himself; but, two days after, seeing two epi-
leptic patients, who fell down in a fit at his

he waved his hand."

On the modern state of magnetism there is some curious information. Alas! poor human nature must be imposed upon; and whether men are magnetised by M. Mesmer, or swallow cartloads of Morrison's pills, or have their backs burnt by Mr. St. John Long,