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WHERE burns the lov❜d hearth brightest,

Cheering the social breast?

Where beats the fond heart lightest,

Its humble hopes possess'd?

Where is the smile of sadness,

Of meek-eyed Patience born, Worth more than those of gladness

Which Mirth's bright cheek adorn ?— Pleasure is mark'd by fleetness,

To those who ever roam;
While grief itself has sweetness
At Home! dear Home!

There blend the ties that strengthen
Our hearts in hours of grief,
The silver links that lengthen
Joy's visits when most brief:
There eyes in all their splendour,
Are vocal to the beart,

And glances gay or tender

Fresh eloquence impart :
Then, dost thou sigh for pleasure?
O do not widely roam;
But seek that hidden treasure
At Home! dear Home!

Does pure religion charm thee

Far more than aught below? Would'st thou that she should arm thee Against the hour of woe? Think not she dwelleth only

In temples built for prayer; For Home itself is lonely

Unless her smiles be there: The devotee may falter,

The bigot blindly roam; If worshipless her altar

At Home! dear Home!

Love over it presideth,

With meek and watchful awe, Its daily service guideth,

And shows its perfect law; If there thy faith shall fail thee, If there no shrine be found, What can thy prayers avail thee

With kneeling crowds around? Go! leave thy gift unoffer'd, Beneath Religion's dome, And be her first-fruits proffer'd At Home! dear Home!'

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(Euro. Mag.)

MR. BOWDICH, THE AFRICAN TRAVELLER.

THAT the world which we inhabit at present is not worth enjoying, unless it lead to a better and a holier habitation, requires no argument to prove. We live here for a moment, and there is an end to us, so far, at least, as regards temporal or material existence. If then, the termination of this life be the term of all our hopes and expectations, what are these hopes and expectations worth? From the highest to the lowest circle of society, pleasure and pain seem to be equally divided; and if so, why cling to a planet which is not worth enjoying, or rather where enjoyment is more than recompensed by its attendant pains. If we be mere mortals, if there be nothing etherial, nothing celestial, nothing immortal about us, what advantage do we possess over the irrational brute; nay, over that clod of earth whose nutriment sustains us, and to which, in this case, we owe, if not our origin, at least the short span of our existence? What avail those sublime emotions, those aspirings after immortality, those feelings and sympathies which raise us, or, at least, seem to raise us, above inanimate existence? Is there a God? If there be, why give us these eternal cravings after a better, a happier, a sublimer, a holier, a more angelic, a more celestial state? But why say more angelic, pore celestial? The comparison has unwittingly escaped us; for here there is nothing angelic, nothing celestial

There is a something within us, it is true, that aspires after immortality, something that perceives the imperfections, the weaknesses, the worthlessness of our present state, and that leads us to hope that we are only the ruins of a sublimer and more etherial order of beings to which our own conduct may once more restore us; but if we be deceived, if the span of earthly be the span of human existence, if the little virtues which we possess be intended for no better purpose than that of preventing us from destroying each other, and extinguishing our race upon earth, why, then, let earth and its enjoyments pass away, and let us, who are the mere bubbles of its creation, re

turn as soon as possible to our original nothingness.

Let us not be ambitious of that life which an elephant enjoys longer than we do; but let us court that eternal silence which equally cancels our virtues and our crimes, and which makes no distinction between the moral and the impious man.

These reflections have been suggested by the death of Mr. Bowdich, a young man of great ambition, and of great virtue. All the anticipations of the former are vanished; let us hope, and we do hope, that all the fruits of the latter remain, and that, though the ardent spirit of adventure which marked the leading features of his charac ter--a spirit that prompted him to measures, which, if successful, would tend to promote the immediate interests of his own country, and, perhaps, remotely those of Europe-a spirit which forsook him not even in his last illness, and the restless energies of which are thought to have accelerated his untimely fate,--let us hope, we say, that though this spirit existed without accomplishing the objects for which it seemed to have been given, it is not, however, without its reward in that undiscovered clime whence no traveller returns.

Mr. Bowdich was born in June, 1793, at Bristol. His father was a respectable manufacturer, and at one time a wool-merchant. He received the elements of his education at the grammar school of that city, whence he was sent to Corsham, in Wiltshire, and placed at a classical seminary of great reputation. After leaving Corsham, he became attached to one of the halls, though we are not certain that he was regularly matriculated.

He entered into the matrimonial state at a very early period, and, having taken a share in his father's business, enjoyed, in the amiable object of his affections, and partner of his cares, all the happiness which that state is calculated to impart. His mind, howe ever, wanted that exercise which it required, and accordingly prompted him to enter into a more ample field, where it might display those energies of which

it felt itself conscious. Having a near relative who filled an important situation on the gold coast, he obtained an appointment as writer in the service of the African Company. He arrived at Cape Coast Castle in 1816, and was shortly afterwards joined by his wife, who took a part in his scientific labours. It having been resolved to send an embassy to the interior kingdom of Ashantee, Mr. Bowdich sought permission to lead or accompany it; and he was accordingly appointed to the perilous enterprise, and happily succeeded in accomplishing all the objects of the mission. On this occasion Mr. Bowdich displayed the greatest prudence; but his intrepidity always kept pace with his caution and reserve.

On his return to England to solicit the means of extending his researches, he published a quarto account of his mission, and received a marked and flattering attention from the most eminenf literary and scientific characters. His high spirit and patriotic zeal led him to expose those abuses in our African settlements that led to the suppression of the African company by government. But his own services were left unrewarded, and the employment arising from his successful exertions were given to another. We are told that he afterwards repaired to Paris, with the view of perfecting his knowledge in the physical sciences, by the means with which that city abounds. His reception there was as generous as it was flattering: Humboldt, Cuvier, Biot, Denon, in short, all the savans, bestowed on him the most distinguished attention; a public eloge

was pronounced on him at a meeting of the Four Academies of the Institute, and an advantageous appointment of fered by the French government. Too much an Englishman, however, to accept this offer, Mr. Bowdich continued in Paris a considerable time, endeavoring to obtain, by his own industry, the means of pursuing the object of his fond ambition; and having at length effected the necessary arrangements, he took his departure from Europe, accompanied by his wife and two children, hoping, by further achievements in the field of science, to establish a stronger claim upon society at large.

The first intelligence received of Mr. Bowdich is, that he has died a martyr in the cause to which he has dedicated himself, leaving an accomplished and amiable widow with three children totally unprovided for. Our limits will not allow us to do justice to Mr. Bowdich's talents and acquirements: they were, however, of a very high order.— He was a profound classic and linguist, an excellent mathematician, well versed in most of the physical sciences, in ancient and modern history, and in polite literature.

Mr. Bowdich was a member of many of the learned societies of this country and the Continent; and, besides the very interesting account of his mission to Ashantee, was the author of several scientific works. In the death of such an individual, combining, as he did, so many valuable qualifications for a traveller, the cause of science has sustained a loss not easily to be repaired.

(New Mon.)

THE LAST ROSE.

THE Rose of the summer is gone,
The fairest and loveliest one,
Of mortals an emblem how true!
While the leaves yet are lying
All under the tree where it grew,
As if sweetest in dying,
Their odour would waft not away
With the sigh that is breathed in decay."

Alas, if the brightest of eye

And the warmest of heart are to die,
If all we love truest and best,
Whom in absence we cherish,

Shall go to the home of their rest;
Like those roses that perish,
Their memory will cast a perfume
O'er the silence and night of the tomb.

Lamented through many a year,
If time e'er can hallow the tear
That fond recollection will give
For those we adore so,
Shall their virtue direct us to live,

And cease to deplore so ;

For they know neither sorrow nor pain In the land where we soon meet again.

ADVISERS.

(New Monthly, July.)

THERE is a family named Partington, that has lately commenced its residence in Upper Harley-street. It consists of a father, a mother, two sons, and two daughters. The father is a sturdy, red-face, good sort of man, and the mother is a slender, sallow, good sort of woman. John, the elder son, is with his father in the wine and spirit line, in America-square: Charles, the younger son, is in the law: the two girls expect to be married. There is at present a great deal of Advice stirring about London, and the Partingtons have given and received more than their due proportion of it. It has often astonished me why so much of that commodity has been, and continues to be given nobody thanks you for it :indeed, nine people out of ten tell you, in pretty plain terms, to keep your advice to yourself—yet still we continue to give it. Never was benevolence more gratuitous than ours!

Hardly was old Partington well settled in Upper Harley street, in a most commodious situation, inasmuch as it commanded a corner view of the outside of the Diorama, with a peep at the little statue of the late Duke of Kent at the top of Portland-place, when he received a visit from his crony Mr. Chapman, of Devonshire-square, Bishopsgate-street, who called to give him some advice as to his recent proceedings. Mr. Chapman commenced his harangue in one of the accustomed forms: "Now, Mr. Partington, I am sure you have too much good sense to be offended at what I am about to say:" Mr. Partington, assured him, in answer, that he had a great deal too much good sense; whereupon the adviser, in reply, began to descant upon the extreme folly of Mr. Partington, in quitting his city residence to sojourn in Upper Harleystreet. The adviser reminded the advisee of those happy days when, Bedlam being then standing upon London Wall, they used to walk up and down Moorfields in front of the iron gates of that edifice, for half an hour before dinner to get an appetite. A needless ceremony, but persisted in notwithstand ing. Mr. Partington owned, with down

51 ATHENEUM VOL. 1. new series.

cast eyes, that such had been their practice; but alleged in his defence, that nobody lived in the city at present,-66 even Bedlam has deserted it,” exclaimed he, with a sigh. “True," answered the adviser," and if you had removed your quarters to St. George's Fields, I should not have so much wondered; but what the deuce could draw you up to Upper Harley-street? Why, now, there was last Thursday, you gave us a dinner; the party consisted of Tom Jackson, Chatfield, Shuttleworth, Newman, and myself. Jackson lives in Watling-st Chatfield in Crutched Friars,Shuttleworth in Barbican, Newman in Siselane, and I in Devonshire-square. We came, as you may remember, in a hackney-coach together, and we talked you and your family over all the way, from Cheapside to the corner of Cavendish-square. We each of us agreed to give you some good advice with respect to coming back again to the city: but, somehow, when it came to the push, nobody was bold enough to begin. Let me now advise you as a friend: if you have not yet signed and sealed, declare off, and come back again. We have dined with you once in the way of friendship; but, my dear Jonathan, when you could have us all to dinner in a ring fence, within one hundred yards of the Royal Exchange, what could put it into your head to drag us four miles off, to cut your mutton in Marybone parish ?" Mr. Chapman now retired, and Mr. Partington took his advice as children take physic, by canting it out of the window the moment the apothecary's back is turned. The lease was executed that very morning, and Mr. Partington, notwithstanding a strong internal aversion to the hot chalky dusty corner of the Portlandroad, became tenant of the house in Upper Harley-street for twenty-one years, from Christmas day then last past.— Men in the spirit line are not to be advised with impunity.

Whilst this affair was transacting in the small back apartment behind the dining-room (the only one in the whole house which a married man can call his own, and even this is apt to be in vaded by hats, canes, and umbrellas

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out of number), advice was going on at a great rate in the front drawing-room up stairs. Mrs. Chambers was full tilt at Mrs. Partington, advising her how to manage her family. My dear Mem, (for to this diminutive is our French madame humbled since the Revolution)-my dear Mem," said this matronly Mentor," only conceive that you should never have heard of Doctor Level. I've got three of my girls down under his hands, and I hope to get Julia down the moment she comes from school."-" Down! Mrs. Chambers, I don't quite understand you."-"No! only conceive how odd! By down, I mean down flat upon their backs upon their sofas. Dr. Level says it's the only way to bring up girls straight. All depends upon the spine: nerves, bile, tooth-ache, asthma, and every thing of that kind: all springs from the spine."-" Well! but, Mrs. Chambers, is not horse exercise a better thing? my girls ride in St. James's Park now and then, with their brother Charles as a make-weight. I can assure you, several young men of very considerable property ride there; and, according to my calculation, men are more apt to fall in love on horseback than on foot."-"Horseback! only conceive how dreadful! Doctor Level won't hear of it: he says girls should be kept quiet-quite quiet now you know Anna is short and rather thick in her figure: the poor girl burst into tears on reading that Lord Byron hated a dumpy woman: I was quite in despair about her only conceive! no more figure than my thumb! I spoke to Doctor Level about it, and he said, 'It's no matter, she must have long gaiters.' "Long gaiters, Mrs. Chambers! a very pretty appurtenance to a grenadier, but surely for a diminutive young lady."-" Oh, Mem, I beg your pardon; it's the best thing in the world: let me advise you as a friend to try the long gaiters.* I'll venture to say, that in six years he would make little Crachami as long as the Queen of the Sandwich Islands. How he manages it I don't know but there are two long straps that keep down the shoulders and flatten the ankles; then he turns a * Qu. Elongaters? Editor.

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sort of screw, under the sofa, which sets the straps in motion, and pulls out the body just for all the world, as if he were rolling out paste for a gooseberrypie crust. Well, my dear Mem, would you believe it? we have already gained two inches; and Doctor Level promises me, if I keep Anna quite quiet for three years and seven months, she may get up quite a genteel figure-Jemima and Lucy are rather better figures: I hope to have them up and about in a twelvemonth."--" Poor girls, don't they find it very dull ?"" Oh no; I left them this morning with Irving's Four Orations,' and Southey's History of the Brazils.' Plenty of amusement, that's my maxim! Let me advise you as a friend to follow my example.” Mrs. Chambers was qualified to give all this advice from living in Lower Grosvenor-street, which gave her much more knowledge of the world, (especially on a fine Sunday) than could be possessed by an inhabitant of Upper Harleystreet. Mrs. Partington, for the same reason, was bound to take it in seeming thankfulness.

Most fortunate was it for the two Misses Partington, that their mamma was advised as a friend. But for those soul-revolting expressions, Mrs. Partington might have been indu ced to call in Doctor Level to bind her daughters' back bones over to their good behaviour: and the two Misses Par tington, in lieu of cantering under the back-wall of Marlborough House, and kicking up as much dust as a couple of countesses, might, at this present writing, have been flat on their backs, in the back drawing room in Upper Har ley-street, like a couple of Patiences on a monument, smiling at a whitewashed ceiling!

The trunk of the family-tree of the Partingtons is not the only part of that venerable fabric destined to be assailed by advice. The branches have suffered considerably by the same tempest. John Partington, the eldest son, is suspected of entertaining a penchant for Fanny Smith, a figurante at the Coburg Theatre. The affair has been long whispered in the family, and his aunt Isabella has lately thought it her duty to give him a little advice. "Nephew John," said aunt Isabella, " sit down by

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