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Luminous Landscapes-Animal Sagacity.

[VOL. 2 are, a carbine held by a thong which and bring it parallel with the right: they passes over the shoulder, a large hunting have thus turned half round; they have knife, and a staff three ells and a half only to repeat the movement, if they long, and an inch and a quarter in wish completely to reverse their direcdiameter, pointed with iron, and set in tion."" iron to some small distance upward Among the juvenile sports of winter from the point. This last serves chiefly may be named, the rolling up a gigantic to check the rapidity of a descent; the snow-ball, the making a snow-man, and skater then puts it between his feet, and running mazes in the snow till they are so drags it, or he drags it by his side; he twenty yards across or more, like Shakuses it also to push himself forward speare's 'quaint mazes in the wanton when he has to go up hill. It may green.' serve, besides, as a rest for his firelock, when he has a mind to let fly. But indeed the Norwegian peasants hold their guns free when they fire, and scarcely ever miss their mark.

The pleasure of social enjoyments and family comforts' at this season are prettily delineated in the following lines:

When the wind bleakly blows,
When it rains or it snows,

"It might be supposed the skaters And all nature seems freezing and shiv'ring with cold;

would find a great difficulty, from the

When the herds seek the shed,
When the birds droop the head,

length of their wooden equipment, in And the flocks chill and cheerless crowd into the fold;

turning themselves: but this is not the case. They draw backward the right

Then-in love what a charm!
Then-true friendship how warm!

foot with its shorter board, and place it In domestic endearments what exquisite bliss!

at right angles with the long one wielded

Though the wind bleakly blows,
Though it rains, or it snows,

by the left; then they raise this latter This, this is the season of social delight.

VARIETIES:

CRITICAL, LITERARY, AND HISTORICAL.

From the Literary Gazette.
LUMINOUS LANDSCAPES.

NATURAL HISTORY.

From the Sporting Magazine, Sept. 1817. ANECDOTE OF THE ELEPHANT.

of light on the various parts of the engraved picture, and which, being seen THE HE powers of the pencil and of the by the spectator in a darkened room, graver have already been rivalled will possess a vividness of colouring that by those of the needle, in the delineation may perhaps be superior to any hitherto of Landscape and History; but we un- known effort of the pencil or the needle. derstand that it is proposed to introduce It is proposed that the colours employed a new mode of Painting, if it may be so shall be from the combustion of chemical called, the effect of which must un- substances, aided, perhaps, by the voltaic doubtedly be most exquisitely brilliant, flame. as well as true to nature. The principle on which it is founded, is the extreme facility with which colour, in consequence of very recent chemical discoveries, can be given to flame. For instance-when On Friday morning Sept. 5, a person, Cuprane, or Protochlorid of copper, is who was viewing Gilman & Atkins's exintroduced into the flame of a candle or hibition of wild beasts, gave the elephant lamp, it affords a peculiar dense and a piece of bread. The animal instantly brilliant red light, tinged with green and swallowed it, and with his trunk soon blue towards the edges-and thus with petitioned for more. The man then thrust other chemical substances. On this at his trunk with some violence a spiced principle, then, the landscape or picture nut, which he also swallowed; but wheis to be engraved on a sheet or sheets of ther the plain and simple taste of the elethin copper, each stroke being cut through phant was disgusted with the inflammatoso as to admit the passage of light. At ry spices contained in the composition, or the back of this an apparatus is fixed the rudeness of the donor, he watched an which throws different coloured streams opportunity while the man was in close

VOL. 2.] Horse turned Thief-Sheridan-Falls of the Rhine.

397

conversation with another person and though I think him but a shabby sort of snatched off his hat with surprising dex- fellow, I would vote for any one rather terity, and threw it with great accuracy than that rascal Sheridan.""Do you and violence into one corner of his cara- know Sheridan ?" asked the stranger.van. The animal then picked it up with "Not I, sir," answered the gentleman, his proboscis, and laid it down in the "nor should I wish to know him." The front of his caravan; but observing the conversation dropped here; but when owner of the unfortunate beaver had the party alighted to breakfast, Sheridan nearly hold of it, he very gradually remo- called aside the other gentleman, and ved it till completely out of his reach. In said-"Pray, who is that very agreeable this situation he leisurely surveyed it and friend of your's? He is one of the pleasthen placing his ponderous foot upon it, antest fellows I ever met with, and I crushed one side of the crown; he next should be glad to know his name."turned that part of the edge towards "His name is Mr.T.; he is an eminent lawhim which still retained some marks of yer,and resides in Lincoln's Inn Fields." the shape given to it by the maker, and crushed this in like manner. He then pulled out the lining of the hat, which he actually swallowed,and very likely would have done the same by the felt, piecemeal, had it not been now rescued by one of the keepers, and restored to the owner more in the shape of Membrino's helmet than in that of a modern beaver.

HORSE TURNED THIEF.

"I am Mr. T." said the gentleman."AndI am Mr. Sheridan," was the reply.

Breakfast over, the party resumed their seats in the coach: soon after which Sheridan turned the discourse to the law. "It is," said he, "a fine profession." Men may rise from it to the highest eminence in the state; and it gives vast scope to the display of talent; many of the most virtuous and noble characters recorded in our history have been lawyers. I am sorry, however, to add, that some Friday, the 5th inst. Sargent, a consta- of the greatest rascals have also been ble of St. George's, inade a complaint be- lawyers; but of all the rascals of lawyers fore the sitting Magistrates (Messrs. Ben- I ever heard of, the greatest is one T nett and Markland), at Shadwell Police who lives in Lincoln's Inn Fields." Office, against a horse for stealing hay.-The constable said, that the horse came regularly every night to the coach stand in St.George's, ate as much as he wished, and would then gallop away. He defied the whole of the Parish Officers to apprehend him, for if they attempted to go near him while he was eating, he would throw up his heels and kick at them, or run at and bite them.-One of the Magistrates-"Well, Mr. Constable, if you should be annoyed again by this body in the execution of your duty, you may apprehend him, if you can, and bring him before us to answer your complaints."This novel case caused no little diversion.

From the New Monthly Magazine, October 1817.

SHERIDAN.

The jest was instantly seen,they shook hands, and instead of voting against the facetious orator, the lawyer exerted himself warmly in promoting his election."

From the Literary Panorama, October 1817.
ARTIFICIAL NAVIGATION.

active utility is strongly evinced by an
The tendency of our age to works of
offer contained in the Zurich journal,
the fall of the Rhine at Schaffhausen, at
namely, to destroy that wonder of nature,
an expence of from 3 to 4,000 florins, in
the course of two years, by digging a
subterraneous canal, and to make a free
passage for boats up and down the river.

COGNOSCENTI PUZZLED.

"As Mr. Sheridan was coming up to When the great Michel Angelo had town in one of the public coaches, for the finished his fine statue of the Drunken purpose of canvassing Westminster, at Bacchus, which is now in the Louvre, the time when Paull was his opponent, he buried it in the earth; but previously, he found himself in company with two he broke off the right arm in the middle. electors. In the course of conversation He then contrived to have it dug up, as one of them asked the other to whom he if by chance; and it was shewn to the meant to give his vote? When his friend Cognoscenti, who one and all pronouncreplied, "To Paull, certainly; for ed it to be truly antique, and far superior

398 Buonaparte's MSS.--Franklin's Correspondence-M. Hardouin, &c. [VOL.9

to any thing he could have done. Michel Angelo then produced the arm, which being applied to the corresponding part, conveyed at once an answer to their science and injustice.

From the Literary Gazette, Nov. 1817.

Napoleon Pient par lui-même ; ou Extraits du véritable Manuscrit de Napoleon Buonaparte.--Our readers will naturally be curious to hear some particulars respecting this forthcoming work: we are enabled to state that the MS. was transmitted from Leghorn, with assurances that its perfect authenticity might be depended on. The editor, in his preface, says, "A singular circumstance placed these papers in my possession in June 1814. An American, who was travelling for his pleasure, came to visit me at Leghorn. His extreme curiosity to become acquainted with Buonaparte, inspired him with an earnest wish to go to the Island of Elba, and I procured him the means of doing so. He was a man of considerable knowledge, and very engaging manners, and seems to have pleased Napoleon much. He had several interviews with him, and was allowed to peruse his manuscript memoirs, from which he privately took extracts of the leading parts. His conversations with Buonaparte were of a very singular nature. These he also noted down every day, as they occurred. On his return to Leghorn he communicated to me his notes; I found them so extremely interesting, that I entreated the permission to take a copy of them, with the view of their being published. After much hesitation, he at length consented to my request. The singular manner in which the notes were taken, may perhaps throw a shade of doubt over the facts cited, whether they happened exactly as they are related, or whether there was not some connivance between Buonaparte and the American. Be this as it may, I consider the manuscript as a curious historical document, and one of the most authentic relative to Buonaparte."

Franklin's Correspondence. ---The Public will be pleased to hear that the Octavo Edition of these interesting Letters is now published. The Monthly Reviewers do but justice to the writer when they say, that by the publication of the present volume, the elevated reputation of Franklin for virtue, for knowledge, for probity, and for talents, will suffer no diminution, since it bears ample testimony to the fidelity of his mind, to the solidity of his judgment, to the justness of his views, to the amenity of his manners, and to his ardent desire for promoting the happiness of mankind. Some characters appear great only when contemplated at a distance, and on a nearer inspection excite only derision or contempt; but the character of Franklin will bear the distant and microscopic view. We may follow him from the great Theatre of Politics, where he discussed the destiny of nations, to his domestic fire-side, where he conversed with his friends, and trifled with his grand-children, without any deduction from our reverence and esteem. --Nothing artificial appeared in his character, and he was never indebted for his sanctity to

a mask.

A Translation of Mr. Ellis's Journal of the Embassy to China, is already publishing in Paris, in two octavo volumes.

Jean Etienne Hardouin, the translator of Young's Night Thoughts into French verse, died at Paris, on the 25th of June last, at the advanced age of eighty-two. He also paraphrased Fenelon's Telemachus; translated the fragment of the 91st book of Livy, discovered by Paul Jacques Brunt in the MS. library of the Vatican; and published a collection of Anacreon's poems in the original Greek text, with a glossary, and translations into Latin prose and verse, and French prose and verse,

A new Tragedy, from the pen of Mr. Shield, the author of the Apostate, is in rehearsal at the Theatre.

The history of England, from its earliest Period to the Death of Elizabeth, is in the press; by the Rev. T. MORELL, author of

Studies in History," to which this will form an additional volume. The concluding volume of the Series, in which the History of England will be brought down to the present period, will follow as quickly as possible.

The Rev. INGRAM COBBIN, A. M. announces Philanthropy ; a Poem.

The Lyrical poetry of the language has hill to a mountain; yet there exists no gen swelled, within the last century, from a mole eral collection of the exquisite pieces which constitute that species of poetry. The best is by Aikin containing about two hundred songs;

and there are two or three others, but none of them containing above three hundred songs. The Aviary, printed in 1773, contained about eleven hundred songs, decent and indecent; but it has long been out of print, and copies have sold at ten times the original cost. It is proposed, therefore, to stereotype a collection of from 2,200 to 2,500 pure, elegant, and popalar songs, under the title of the Vocal Library.

The first volume of M. Jouy's Hermite en Provence is in the press. His fertility in painting the Manners of France seems inexhausti ble. This is the fourteenth or fifteenth volume under the various titles.

French Institute.-In its last sitting, the Royal Academy of Sciences of the Institute

chose for the successor of the celebrated mineralogist Werner, whose death left a vacant place for a foreign associate, M. Piazzi, a Sicilian astronomer, who discovered in 1801, the planet Ceres, and led the way to the dis covery of those of Pallas, Juno, and Vesta, successively, by Messrs. Olbers and Harding. The foreign associates are now, Sir Joseph Banks, one of the companions of Captain Cooke; the astronomer Herschel, who in 1788, discovered the motion of the planet Uranus; Dr. Jenner, who discovered Vaccin ation for the small pox, the most important ever made for humanity; Mr. Watt, an able mechanic, who bas invented so many ingenious applications of steam; Count Volta, the inventor of the famous Galvanic pile; the anatomist Scarpe; the astronomer Piazzi, and Baron Humboldt, so justly celebrated for his travels. The first four of these Scavans belong to England, the three next to Italy, and the last to Prussia.

Miss Smith, of Adwick Hall near Doncaster, has announced a publication of “Studies of Flowers from Nature," in ten monthly numbers. This, it is presumed, will be an elegant work for young ladies; as, besides the example of beautiful coloured engravings, it will contain observations on the principle of colouring.

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ROUND Monn's Isle the billows sleep,
And sparkles bright the dancing spray,
As each wild rock and craggy steep,

Is silver'd by the moon's soft ray.
Light floats the sea-gull on the tide,
The wearied fisher sinks to rest;
And not a cloud is seen to glide,

Reflected on the ocean's breast. But o'er the skies, so calm, so fair, What sounds of melting music flow, That, rising o'er the midnight air,

Pours the soft notes of love and woe? No mortal voice such notes can raise,

As float along these moon-light skies, Whose sounds the ocean's breath obeys, And hush'd beneash its influence dies.

Now sailing round yon lofty tower,

Is heard the sweet, the solemn strain;
It swells o'er beauteous Bertha's bower,
Then dies in murmurs o'er the main.
Can minstrel's harp those notes repeat,
Or bard in loftier numbers tell,
What was that song so strange, so sweet,
That breath'd that wild, that sad farewell?
To minstrel's harp it ne'er was given,
To pour a pure celestial strain;
To catch the song that flows from heaven,
Must loftiest bard essay in vain.
Then thou!--the lowest of that race,---
The vain, the fond attempt forego;
Contented through life's vale to trace,

The varying scenes of bliss and woe.
Now rose the morn, and o'er the tide

Is spread the bright, the smiling ray; And swift the bark is seen to glide,

That bears the Lord of Colonsay. The breezes swell the snowy sail,

And foams the wave around the oar;
The lover chides the languid gale,

And anxious views the distant shore.
High swells his heart with love---with pride
United,---can those passions reign?
Ah! there is seen his beauteous bride,
And round is spread her wide domain,---

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Hold o'er the passions a benignant reign.
Is 't hard the harmonious summit to attain,

Is 't hard to hear the Muses' silver voice?
Did ever mortal mount the steep in vain,---
Did ever mortal hear and not rejoice?
Yet talk not of the Muses' mild controul.--
The blessings lavish'd on the girl I love,
Her youth, her beauty, and her unstain'd soul,
The song,---the lyre,---the voice of fame,---the
Impart to me a blessedness above

whole

Of thy enjoyments in the Muses' grove.

From the European Magazine.

G. F. M.

THE HALL OF FLOWERS.

AN IRISH LEGEND.

[By the Author of Hohene!m,Love's Visit, Legends of Lampidosa, &c.]

HE Spirit of Kevan's sainted cave

Came darkly over the deep blue wave,
While the Baalfires blaz'd in Monona's dells;-
And ev'ry spirit that loves the night
Was there to gladden the jocund rite,
But Glorvine sigh'd, as she wing'd her flight,

64

Why was I not call'd to the Feast of Shells?
"The blue-cy'd daughter of Lir is there,
And the sister-virgins with golden hair,

That watch the fires of Kildarna's shrine:
Would my sandals of dewy moss profane
The shining track of so fair a train?
Or fear'd they the fires of their boasted fane

Would shrink from a step so rude as mine ? "O! they gleam but in Pleasure's noon-tide hour,

Like the meteor-spark of the yellow flow'r,
Which flashes when summer-sunbeams glow:
But flow'rs as bright for me shall rise,
Without the bounty of summer-skies,
Ere the eaglet from Kevan's eyrie flies

O'er the waters of gloomy Glendalough."
Alone by those waters Fingal stood,
While the grey mist hung over field and flood,
And he thought of his bride's far distant
bow'rs:

Ere he look'd again, the mist was fled;
A roof of garlands above him spread,
And the blossoms that meteor-brightness shed,
Were the living lamps of thisHall of Flow'rs,
And a thousand arches seem'd to lean
On pillars of cluster'd osiers green,

With those starry wreaths around them
hung;

The purple moss of Senana's cave,
And the lilies that float on Kevan's wave,
Were mingled the verdant ball to pave
Where the lady of beauty sat and sung.
Far heard at eve on the silver sea,
The wandering sea-maid's melody,

When the pilot sleeps and his home is near,
On the hunter's dream by the lonely rill,
Or the sweets the spirits of night distil
Were not so soft as the syren's trill'

That melted and dwelt in Fingal's ear.

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The rust was brown on the warrior's shield,
The roe had slept on the battle-field,

Ere he thought of his love's forsaken bow'rs;
Then the lady of beauty said, and sigh'd,
"Return and smile on thy blue-ey'd bride,
But take this living lamp to guide

Thy steps again to my Hall of Flow'rs."
The Chief has sought his father's hall,
But where is the pomp of the banner'd wall
That frown'd over lofty Inistairn?
The thistle on Fingal's hearth has grown,
The wild doe sleeps on his altar stone---
But a voice like the harp of Tara's tone

Came sweetly from the moss-green cairn. "Thy brow is furrow'd---thy veins are cold! Thrice a hundred years have roll'd,

Since thy sprit bent to Glorvine's spells;
Thou had'st slept on earth in holy rest,
And the stone of thy fame had here been blest,
Hadst thou welcom'd a weary wand'ring guest,
And call'd me to sit at the Feast of Shells.
"The spirits that feed unholy mirth
Lurk in the painted gems of earth

That darkly in poison'd fumes decay;
And the spirit that rules a maiden's dream
Lies hid in the pearl beneath a stream,
Till touch'd by the cold moon's roving beam,
It rises to aid her changeful sway.
"And those that kindle a warrior's breast
In the bright green emerald love to rest,

Whose ray can the serpent's eye appal;
But the spirit of truth and freedom dwells
In the wild flowers deep among Erin's dells;
She came not to grace thy feast of shells,

Nor sat as a guest in Fingal's hall.

"I bless'd them not, and their pomp is past---
Thy walls have crumbled before the blast,
While I shew'd thee the bliss of my secret
bowers;

I have breath'd on thy soul, and thou art mine!
The living lamp of my throne is thine;
And when Fingal's race shall see it shine,
Thy Erin shall be my realm of flowers.'
The Chief was gone ere the day-star rose---
A thousand crystal columns close

The path he trod on that sainted shore :
And a giant hand from the deep blue wave
Came forth the living lamp to save ;---
The harp still rings over Fingal's grave,
But the mighty lamp is seen no more.

From the Eclectic Review.

TO AN HYPOCRITE.

By Miss D. P. CAMPBELL.

HY heart is hard---thou hast no tear

V.

With pity that it never knew,
And seem all tenderness and passion!
Yes! to thy baser nature true,

[VOL. 2

Thou weep'st, and why ?---it is the fashion!

TO AN OLD MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.
By Miss D. P. CAMPBELL.

WA mournful farewell take,

WHILE some of their fictitious lyres,

Deep tones of sorrow from thy wires,
My trembling fingers wake:

What though thy tones were wild and rude,
Yet oft they pleas'd mine ear,
They charm'd my hours of solitude,
And sweeten'd every tear!
Partner of many a lonely hour,
And soother of its pain,

Farewell!--thy soft consoling power
Shall never charm again!

Then fare-thee-well!--for we must part.---
A lighter hand, a gayer heart

May wake thy notes with better skill ;---
With more of music's art,

A sadder never will!

ON

THE LAST JUDGMENT.

BY J. EDMESTON, jun.

NCE, yet to be, when Time shall quit ais
seat,

His woof exhausted, and his web complete;
When the great wheel of ages shall be stilled,
The spirit-breathing trump of God shall sound,
And all the eternal purposes fulfilled ;---

And all creation with the blast resound;
The sea shall hear, and heave herself distress'd:
The earth shall hear, and rend her sable breast;
And flesh to join its flesh, and bone its bone,
Journey through jarring atoms to its own;
Then Death's cold captives, each one in his
keep,

Bound fast in chains of adamantine sleep,
Shall feel the warm, the conscious tide advance
And inch by inch awaken from their trance.
When Conscience shall resume her sway once

more,

With deeper sting, and deadlier than before;
And Memory assist her to portray

Th' unpardon'd sins of many a far-past day:
How fain would some from God in judgment
then,

Shrink to their sepulchres and worms again!
Yet there are some, who even in that day,
Shall bear no harm and suffer no dismay,
But rise triumphant from a world on fire,
Fresh as the phoenix from her funeral pyre;
Their's is a heavenly throne,a deathless crown;
Their sun of HAPPINESS shall ne'er go down:
But, passing on to glories yet before,
A cloudless and unbounded zenith soar.

Like that which drops from Pity's eye, Aces and ages vanish'd, yet shall be

Her angel voice was never dear,

Nor can thy bosom heave the sigh,
The tender sigh! for others' anguish,---

Then haste thee---to thy pleasure fly,
And leave me here in grief to languish.
Yet thou hast said---perhaps hast sworn-
Thy soul was tenderness and truth!
Go, Hypocrite! thou canst not mourn
O'er a bruis'd heart, and blasted youth,
With'ring away with grief and sorrow!

Or, if thou dost, I fear, in sooth,
'Tis but the semblance thou dost borrow.

Yet thou canst talk, ob, wond'rous well!
Of sympathy and feeling too;
And bid thy changeful bosom swell

But the commencement of eternity;
And that eternity they all shall know
Omnipotence of blessing can bestow.

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