1818.] Anecdote of Professor John.-Fouche.-Doctor Garth. 231 returning from collecting, and had only 130 franks about him, of which he was robbed, as well as of his watch, and ring. The charge of the gun was rammed down with a written paper. This had been carefully taken up, and carried away with the body. The writing was still legible. On this piece of paper there were expressions which are used in glass manufactories, and a date of near fifteen years back. Upon this single indication, the Judge went to the owner of the glass manufactory at Bilguy, examined his books, and succeeded in find ing an article relative to the delivery of some glass, of which the paper in question was the bill of parcels. The suspicion immediately fell on the son-in-law of this individual the latter had been out of the country for ten years. Order was given to arrest the person suspected. When the officers came to him, he was on his knees, praying. In his fright, he Confessed the deed on the spot, and even shewed where the watch and ring were, which were indeed found under the thatch of his house. Anecdote. The following anecdote of Professor John, in Berlin, whose system for making youth perfect in gymnastic exercises, has given rise to endless disputes in Germany, is highly characteristic. When the French were in Berlin, John went with his scholars to exercise on the heath out of the city. On his return he took it into his head, to ask a boy who loitered under the Brandenburg Gate, "What used to stand at this gate?" "The Victory!" "What is become of her?" "The French have carried her to France!" "What do you think of it?" "Nothing at all!" Upon this, John gave him a hearty box on the ear, with the serious admonition, "She was there, and may be fetched back again, if every one help!" The school never forgot it, though the citizens of Berlin, thought the Professor mad, because he required that a boy should think something at seeing the gate without the Victory, while thousands passed through it every day without thinking any thing. Anecdote of Fouche. The well known poet Raynouard once read his tragedy of Charles I. to a large company, in which Fouche was present. All eyes were fixed on him, yet his features remained unchanged. The reading began; still he remained unmoved, though at many allusions the scrutinizing eyes of the hearers were turned upon him. When at last the minister of Charles I. defending his master, exclaims, "Le jugement d'un Roi n'est qu'un assassinat," the company were going to express their approbation aloud, but they were prevented by the presence of the minister. This did not escape him, and seemed to embarrass. him for a moment. When the reading was finished, every one went away, except Fouche. After some general remarks upon the plan, and the characters of the piece, he added, "in respect to that verse, I utterly despise it." In Raynouard did not answer, but Fouche walked up and down with long strides, and said, "the political part of your tragedy is very weak; you stand upon the tower of Notre Dame, instead of penetrating into the interior. politics every thing has a different point of view. Circumstances-you do not know the effect of circumstances." Raynouard interrupted him by repeating the verse; "le jugement d'un roi n'est qu'un assassinat," and Fouche left the room. Anecdote of Doctor Garth. Doctor Garth, who was a great frequenter of the Wit's Coffee-house (the Cocoa Tree, in St. James's-street,) was sittingthe re one morning conversing with two persons of rank, when Rowe, the poet, (who was seldom very attentive to his dress and appearance, but still insufferably vain of being noticed by persons of consequence,) entered, and placing himself in a box nearly opposite to that in which the Doctor sat, looked constantly round, with a view of catching his eye; but not succeeding, he desired the waiter to ask him for his snuff-box, which he knew to be a valuable one, set with diamonds, and the present of some foreign prince; this he returned, and asked for so repeatedly, that Garth, who knew him well, perceived the drift, and accordingly took from his pocket a pencil, and wrote on the lid the two Greek characters P (phi rho,) which so mortified the poet that he quitted the room.— -Literary Gazette. BY LORD BYRON. There was a time I need not name, Confess'd a love which equall'd mine, To think how soon that love hath flown; But transient in thy breast alone. And yet my heart some solace knew, When late I heard thy lips declareIn accents once imagined true, Remembrance of the days that were. Yes, my adored!—yet most unkind! Though thou wilt never love again, To me 'tis doubly sweet to find Remembrance of that love remain. Yes! 'tis a glorious thought to me, Nor longer shall my soul repine; Whate'er thou art, or e'er shalt be, Thou hast been dearly, solely mine! On hearing the notes of a Flute re-echoed by the strings of a Harp. When from the flute's melodious voice Distils the liquid note, Doubting it seems to float; Long time in vain we rove to find And when, at last, the friend we meet MOTTOS FOR A SUPPER. BY THE LATE M. G. LEWIS, ESQ. 1. E. This is not proper! Take another, He's blind of one eye-and squints with the 2. How ill-Miss Gig was drest last night! 3. Pert minx! she puts me in a flame! Pray Sir take care!- That fellow's always guzzling. He spills the wine, And spoils my bran new muslin. 14. What shall I do? I've left, I find, Do me the favour, Sir, I pray, The comfort of my nose secures,— To let me have a blow on yours! Sir, if you catch me making faces, 1818.] Original and Select Poetry. [The following verses, which are now print- O White! for gold still fondly yearning, Their high descent emblazon. Ne'er prest their ample basis; His gorgeous helm 'ere won in fight, THE PARTING. (From the German of Breuner.) Paused on the promontory's head, All there was still-the shouts had past, NEW MONTHLY MAGNO. 57. A surgeon barber wore, And doubtless, too, these stirrups prized, By fell magician's skill disguised, The recreant artist bore. 233 To vulgar eyes, the golden gleam Or in thy great Museum shewn Makes the dread privilege of birth. Rolled on-she gazed upon the main ; THE HEART OF SORROW. I knew a heart-its texture such But still in upright deeds appearing, A pride which even Angels love;— But claim'd affiance with the dove. Yet bled it freely from each smart Of Hatred's bow, and Slander's dart; Tho' giant Pride, in strength appearing, Mark'd the tear through many a furrow, Still-oh! still-devoid of fearing Boldly beat that Heart of Sorrow. The reeking ruins of that heart. Grief drew the bow its peace to sever, Rent, whene'er the arrow flew; But Hope still whisper'd-woe forgetting Will yet light up that Heart of Sorrow. [Oct. 1, With her due Hymn to the Virgin, I have turn'd Even from the glory of her eye, to weep, With sudden keenness of delight. Those tears, On earth I weep no more-She's in the grave! ODE TO THE MEMORY OF A YOUNG LADY. Ultimi flos prætereunte postquam CATULLUS, Car. II. Fair was thy thread of life, thou gentle maid, But quickly by the envious sisters shorn, E'en as the rosebud from its stem And like that flow'ret too, which tho' it fade, And odorous in death: So, tho' on earth thy form no more can wear, The wonted semblance of its winning grace, Vanish'd are now thy flattering dreams of bliss, Alike insensible to joy or pain; A wakeless sleep thou sleep'st Still we may envy thee that peaceful rest, STANZAS. A. A. W. The soul that was shrouded in sorrow's dark night A peace-promising beam woke to gladness and light; And the lute that so long, lorn, and tuneless had hung, Once more with the wild notes of harmony rung! Ah! why did that beam only shine to beguile, Ah! why did it teach the fond mourner to smile? Why faithlessly grant him a seeming reprieve, Then, leave him in sadness still deeper to grieve? The light is gone by-and the music is o'er, And the feelings so lovely-are lovely po more That soul once again its dark vigils is keeping, ERRATA-In our last Number, in the" Sonnet to ****" line 6, for gift read debt and in the " Sonnet written at the Chateau de Clarens," line 13, for each read such. |