This has happened in the instance of Civicus, a gentleman possessed of a handsome competency, who lately removed from the metropolis to a small town in Yorkshire, where, in conse. quence of adhering to his London hours and London habits, he has been the talk and entertainment of the whole neighbourhood. He never goes to bed till the clock has struck twelve; i. e. several hours after all the other inhabitants of the place have betaken themselvet to rest. Then, his time of rising is very late, so that before his breakfast is over, many of his neighbours are going to sit down to their dinners. These late hours are certainly not well adapted to the country, and have given rise to some awkward incidents. Thus, a day or two after his arrival at his new residence, Civicus sent word to the shoemaker to come the next morning to measure him for a pair of shoes, without mentioning the hour when he was to come. Now the word morning was interpreted according to the usage of the place, and as the clock struck seven there was a loud ring of the door-bell. In the course of the preceding day, Civicus had received a letter from London, conveying the melancholy intelligence that his brother lay dangerously ill of a fever, and that if his disorder should not abate, they would let him know by express, as his presence would then be required. This letter had kept Civicus awake all night; and the moment he heard the sound of the bell, he jumped out of bed, called all the family up-but without waiting for his valet, ran to the window to lift up the sash, and in his hurry and fright thrust his hand through one of the panes, and cut his wrist severely. On inquiry, "Who's there?" he was answered, "John Morgan-come to measure the gentleman for a pair of shoes."—"I'm very glad 'tis you, Mr. Morgan, tho' you've made me cut myself badly-but pray don't come another time so soon. I never see any body on business till twelve or o'clock in the day-so go home, and come again at that time-but, halloo! my wrist is bleeding very fast-so I wish you would first of all run for he surgeon, and tell him to come to me mmediately."-This adventure was the ubject of much merriment among the nhabitants-they all said it would not one have happened, if he had got up at a proper time. The wound in the wrist was not the only unpleasant occurrence that happened to Civicus soon after he entered upon his new residence. One day, when he was rather later than usual at his breakfast, sitting in his dressing-gown and slippers and reading the newspaper, the rector and his wife approached the house, and knocked at the door. Not wishing to be seen in his undress, Civicus rose from his seat the moment he saw them coming (the breakfast room being in front of the house), and ran out of the room, shutting the door after him, and ordering the footman to say he was not at home; but, in walking across the room, he was seen by Mrs. K. the rector's wife. They left their cards; and while they were walking away, Mr. K. said to his wife, "Why, my dear, you told me you saw Mr. Civicus in the breakfast-room."-" And so I did, I'm certain of it."-" Why, then, what barefac'd story-tellers he and his footman are!" exclaimed the Rector; "I hate these London fashions.". At this moment he turned round, and saw the room in a blaze.-" Do you go home, Mrs. K.-I'll run back, and alarm the people in the house." Accordingly, he knocked again at the door, calling out, "Fire! Fire!”— Civicus, who had gone up stairs, was in the act of descending while these words were uttered, and was so much agitated that his foot slipped at the upper part of the stairs, and he fell down with such violence as to break his arm-In the mean while, the flames were spreading over the breakfast-room. -It appeared that Civicus, in the hurry of making his escape, had dropped his napkin over the fender with the newspaper near it-that from the napkin the flames had communicated to the newspaper, and from thence to the tablecloth, which was entirely consumed, together with a part of the arm-chair and the table itself. By the assistance of the neighbours, however, the fire was soon extinguished. Having condoled with Civicus on his distressing accident, the rector returned home, saying to his wife, "The fire is out, but Mr. C. has broke his armThis comes of fashionable story-telling I hope it will put a stop to it in future." Magazinefors made to the public of one of the plans for calculating interest which is practised in this concern; but as the rate of interest has varied much since that period, and £. as that formula was limited to 5 per days, at 4 per cent. per annum. Your's truly, Finishing Academy, Cateaton-street. W. TATE. To find the interest of any sum of mo ney for number of days, at any rate any per cent. per annum. 850 by 90 I 12- 76500 I 10. 6375 637 318 8,3830 £.8 7 8 To find the interest of any sum of money, for any number of days, at 3 per cent. per annum. Multiply the principal by the number of the days, and that product by 8, and add to it 1-5th of the first product, with 1-10th of that 5th, and divide the amount by 100000; abating one farthing in every 127. of interest, or one farthing from 6l. to 121. &c. Multiply the principal by the number of the days, and this product by twice the given rate per cent.; to the last product add its 1-3rd, with 1-10th of that 3rd, and 1-10th of that 10th, and divide the amount by 100,000: observing, that I farthing should be abated in every 101. of interest, or 1 farthing days, at 3 per cent. per annum. from 51. to 15/. &c. Example. To find the interest on 8501. for 90 days, at 4 per cent. per annum. £. 850 by 90 76500 by 8 -- 612000 -- 204000 18.- 20400 2040 8,38440 £.87 8 To find the interest of any sum of money for any number of days, at 4 per cent. per annum. Multiply the principal by the number of the days, and to the product add its Bull breed, and has no cross of the cur in him. He always travels with me; and t'other day, in my journey through Cornwall, we stopped to get a little refreshment at Penryn, in our way to Truro. Bull was sleeping at my feet as I was reading the Cornwall Gazette -the verses which I send you met my eye, and I was so much pleased with them, that I read them out to a traveller who was eating his mutton-chop in another part of the coffee-room. At the first verse, Bull raised himself upon his hind-quarters;-at the second, he rose and shook himself heartily ;-at the third, he wagged his tail;-and at the last sent forth one of the most musical howls I have ever heard from his deep toned throat.-Whether the dog has an ear for rythm-or a taste for poetryI don't pretend to determine; but at all events, I took up pen and paper, and copied the verses, and now send them with Bull's " Imprimatur;" and am, Mr. Editor, The ooze, to shew what coast the sluggish carrack Might earliest harbour in ? HERE is nothing so insupportable THE to the heart of man, as that of melancholy in excess it is a spirit, which, if we indulge, will imperceptibly steal upon us, like eating time, and weaken the active and rational springs of life. How weak and imprudent is it for mankind to indulge silent and pensive grief, since it is far more prejudicial to the constitution than the most turbulent passions, and so dan gerous, when once it becomes habitual, that it is often attended with fatal consequences.-Were we to exercise our reason, as is incumbent upon us, we should never suffer sable and sulBULL'S MASTER. len melancholy to enter into our mortal tabernacle, but resist and oppose it with a becoming fortitude, and Christian-like courage. Your's, THE CANINE PATRIOT. THE factious that Cur could adore, The hand that was stretch'd out to save In this they see something so fine, So much constitutional rancour, They mean to invite him to dine E'er long at the Crown and the Anchor." And Mister Hunt placed in the Chair, The President's part to perform, And Watson will have the same honor, The beautiful Roger O'Connor; And that too without being twisted, T'other sought but a lick at his feet; At the base borough-mongering logs, While man is under this despicable and unhappy condition, the fugitive hours will drag heavily upon him, nor will he have an adequate or perfect idea of the Almighty, the universe, and himself; and instead of having a just idea of things, every thing on this and on the other side of the grave will bear to him a tremendous and dismal aspect, till slow and lingering grief departs from him. Beneficent Providence never ordained man to pass through this transitory valley of life, in a state of that unremitting perplexing solitude that is consequent to despair, or her dejected sister melancholy, nor to tread in the paths which lead to irrecoverable perdition; but that we might live in full enjoyment of that peace and tranquillity that virtue ever meets with, and with the full possession of the balmy hopes, that ever enlivens her, of enjoying, hereafter, uninterrupted felicity in the mansions of her merciful God. FALSEHOOD. In the dark catalogue of human vices, there is not, perhaps, any one so universally regarded with contempt as falsehood. Yet, paradoxical as it may seem, there is not, I believe, any other which spreads its contagion through so large a proportion of the human species. While with one voice it is universally reprobated, still is everywhere, with different modifications, and with illusive denominations, invented to screen its deformity; so numerous are those who indulge in some favourite kind of duplicity, and fondly vindicate the one species of falsehood to which they are individually prone. The effects of this contemptible vice in the moral world are similar to those of some trees in the vegetable creation; it has qualities that are fatally destructive to every generous principle, where its influence is allowed to predominate, in the same manner as those are said to poison every wholesome plant over which they extend their shade. ON PRIDE. Pride, in a greater or lesser degree, is almost a universal passion: the dominion it exercises over the human mind is more general and more absolute than may be ascribed to any other principle of equally blameable tendency. To acquire what are the symptoms by which it is known, and to learn the methods of removing or subduing this odious passion, is highly expedient. I do not know that creature living, however conscious of its own imperfections, however in principle submitted to the will of its Creator and Governor, that is not, in some unguarded moment, surprised and misled by this insidious foe to human peace and happiness. Which is the quality too insignificant, which is the merit too slender, or the degree of distinction too small (in the opinion of their possessors), to countenance the pride resulting from selfpartiality? Nothing is more ingenious than pride in magnifying the most trifling qualifications, nor more active in seizing the minutest advantage to favour its pretensions. It is blind to our weaknesses, and often represents them as virtues: by overrating our worth, we actually lessen our real desert; and by claiming undue respect, we expose ourselves to contempt: such are the general consequences of indulging in pride. SELF-CONSEQUENCE. Almost every man is of consequence with himself, and wants to be thought so by others. In whatever light a man's own opinion places himself, he expects that the world should look upon him in the same; and if it should be blind to his merit, or to his importance, he is always kind enough to endeavour, at least, to open its eyes. This passion is undoubtedly to be reckoned amongst the useful gifts of nature, as it was originally intended to make us exert those talents in the pursuit of what is praiseworthy, and to distinguish ourselves in society by serving mankind. But if we cannot conceal our fondness for distinction, or if we claim it upon insignificant considerations, or upon a pretence to that consequence which we have not, we shall not only miss what we aim it, but meet the ridicule we would avoid. SUPERSTITION. As it was first introduced, in a great measure, by policy and fraud, it has been constantly supported by these methods, as artful and designing men have found occasion for the use of it, who having themselves, too often, no fixed principle of religion, have never scru pled to impose on the ignorance and credulity of others, or to fall in with any popular prejudices and errors, as often as they imagined the public utility required it, or when necessary to gratify their ambition and pride, or when it appeared to them any security from their authority, grandeur, or power. A false religion is every way applicable to their views, is tractable in its make, perpetually shifting and varying its form, as circumstances may chance, is consistent with any kind of expedients that the intricacies of states, or the pride and pleasure of arbitrary princes, may render necessary; and, in a word, it is as flexible to all the designs of political craftsmen as they themselves can desire it to be. SELECT SENTENCES. We are never so ready to praise as when we are inclined to detract; and often has one man, nay one nation, been flattered by the commendations of a writer, who really meant no more than to fix a stronger censure upon another. Nothing is so easy as to keep up an established character of sense by conversation, nothing so difficult as to ac quire one by it; at least, a conversation superior to that which keeps it up may not give it. Pleasure is a game for which it will be in vain to try:-it must start before you, or you will never find it. To the Editor of the European Magazine. SIR, Mhave some memento of my having ANY of my friends requesting to paid this month a verdict for 1007. obtained against me in a Welch Court of Justice, whilst I resided in a foreign country; to comply with such entreaty, I, enclosed, hand you the original bill remitted from Holland, with indorsements thereon, proving the above payment, and request you would insert the same in your impartial Journal.—I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, J. B. WIENHOLT. "1001. Rotterdam, Aug. 18, 1817. "At Three Days sight, please pay "Major W. H. Thomas, of the Caermar"thenshire Militia, or his Order, one "Hundred Pounds, being the amount allow me to state, that the 100 verdict obtained against me for horsewhipping this Major of the Caermarthenshire Militia, has never yet been demanded; but to avoid any further misrepresentation of this worthy officer, I have already remitted to my Solicitors, Messrs. Blunt and Bowman, 1007. now over due, and which (if not already done) will be forwarded to him on application. "All further opinions on this subject agree, that I could not, without totally comprimising my character as a gentleman, return the fire of one who had submitted to receive such public chastisement from me, although his aspersions rendered it necessary for me to receive his Your obedient servant, "J. B. WIENHOLT. "Rotterdam, Aug. 28, 1817. BIOGRAPHICAL REGISTER OF EMINENT PERSONS RECENTLY DECEASED. MR. RAYMOND. AMES GRANT RAYMOND, or <<of a Verdict obtained against me former JAMES GRANT, as Raymond "horse-whipping him, after first challenging and then refusing to meet This without further ad me. "vice. INDORSED "Pay the within to Messrs. Morris, Bankers, Caermarthen, or "their Order, as per advice, from my Attorney, John Williams, Esq. "Caermarthen.-I have publicly "vindicated my character against "the calumnies of the Drawer, and am very happy to find that he feels much mortification and chagrin "at having been foiled in all his "manœuvres to avoid payment of "the money. "W. H. THOMAS." The following letter was inserted in the Morning Post, of Sept. 4, 1817:To M. Phillips, Editor of the Caermarthen Journal. "SIR,-Although you objected to insert Mr. Hill's statement of the meeting between me and Major W. H. Thomas, of Langharne, I had yet to learn your objections to insert a reply to the various aspersions from him, and which have appeared in your Journal. Through the medium of this respectable paper, Europ. Mag. Vol. LXXII. Nov. 1817. appears to be a stage name, was born on the 29th March, 1771, in Strathspey, in the Highlands of Scotland, within a short distance from Culloden Moor, well known as the scene of the decisive battle between the partisans of the House of Stuart and the English forces under the Duke of Cumberland. His father claiming to be a descendant of Ludovick Grant, an ancient Highland Chieftain (and the head of one of the oldest and most powerful clans in that part of Scotland), was an officer in the army, and lost his life near Charlestown, in South Carolina, during the latter part of the American war. The widow being left with five children, the eldest of whom, James, had not attained his ninth year, removed with her young family from their small paternal residence in the Highlands, to the village of Inverkeithen, in the County of Banff, where James was placed at a classical seminary, and intended for the clerical profession, not as a minister of the Kirk of Scotland, but of what in that country is called the Chapel, an episcopal es tablishment, differing very little in doc trine and ceremonies from the Church of England. 3 K |