A gentleman educated for the Church at Magdalen College, Oxford, has in the press, Four Years in France, or Narvative of the Residence of an English Family there during that Period, preceded by a memoir, giving an account of the conversion of the author to the Catholic faith.

Proposals are issued for publishing by subscription, Specimens of the British School of Painting, in a series of highly finished lithographic drawings by Messrs. J. D. Harding and R. J. Lane. The work will appear in quarterly numbers, each containing four subjects, and no more than five hundred copies will be printed.

NEW LOCOMOTIVE BOILER AND ENGINE.

The march of science and art is generally steady and progressive, each accompanying the other onwards to the improvement and happiness of mankind. Sometimes, however, they separate, and it not unfrequently happens that science, plodding on, oppressed with difficulties and obscurities, outstrips its lighter companion; for it is observed, that the floating knowledge of the world, on some subjects, is far in advance of its application to useful purposes. In no case is this more observable than in the phenomena and application of steam.

The power of water when converted into steam under certain circumstances, the peculiar laws by which the change takes place, the cause of its mechanical force, are all matters which science has explained and left behind for several years; but the best means for applying this knowledge to our uses are still very defective. Every day, however, art gains

Perhaps, amongst the rapid advances that have been observed in the arts for the last few years, none is of more importance, or likely to benefit this country so much, as the one we are about to notice.

For all purposes where locomotion is necessary, the present steam-engine cannot be applied without annihilating a considerable portion of its power; the great weight of the machinery having the direct effect of retarding its motion, and, in some cases, destroying its action altogether. We may instance a steam-vessel, and a steam-carriage on common roads, as cases in point. In other cases, again, transportation to situations where steam-engines would be of the greatest value is impossible; for instance, from this country to the interior of Mexico: in other cases, equally important, the present weight of the steam-engine must for ever prevent its employment.

For some time experiments have been made by Mr. Gurney, of Argyle-street, a gentleman well known to our scientific readers, with a view to reduce the weight of the steam-engine. The boiler being by far the most ponderous part of the machinery, and the laws of heat having been his more immediate study, induced him at once to endeavour to construct a smaller and lighter apparatus for the purpose of generating steam. How far he has succeeded our readers will judge when we state, that a boiler, weighing only 230lbs. has been at work for some time, and is at this moment driving an eight-horse engine in the manufactory lately occupied by Mr. Perkins in the Regent's-park. Our readers will recollect, that an ordinary boiler, to do the same work, must weigh from four to five tons. There can be no mistake respecting the properties of this apparatus; the engine is open to public inspection, and the power of the boiler has been carefully

tion to the above, that Mr. Gurney has invented a steam-carriage, which has been successfully propelled by this boiler on the road with apparent ease. This fact is as important as the former; we

a particular description of both the boiler

LINES

On the Death of a Dormouse.

By the late THEODOSIA CANDLER, of Ipswich. GRAY, in harmonious plaintive lays, Once deigned a favourite cat to praise; And three domestic playful hares Were once the gentle Cowper's cares. But neither Tabby's gambols gay, Nor Puss, nor Bess, nor Tiney's play, Philander's Dormouse could excel, Whose fate the youthful Muse will tell. When winter's snows the earth o'erspread, Retir'd within its wooly bed

It long enjoyed a sleep profound,
Nor cold, nor care, nor hunger found.
But spring reviv'd its torpid powers,
And life infus'd for joyous hours;
And then would evening's shades delight,
And lunar beams to mirth incite.
Around its ample cage it played,
And there were nuts and apples laid,
Of dainty food a plenteous store;
And what could Dormouse wish for more?
Whether for friendship's joys it pin'd,
Companions social of its kind-
Or long'd for liberty denied-
The little favourite drooped and died.

Alas! no more its winning play
Shall chase Philander's care away;
Its sports amusing all are o'er,
Its beauteous form exists no more.

STANZAS TO AMANDA. Amanda, mark, where shrinking from the gale,

Its silken leaves yet moist with early dew, That faint fair flower, the lily of the vale, Droops its meek head, and looks, methinks, like you!

Wrapped in a shadowy veil of tender green, Its snowy bells a soft perfume dispense; And bending, as reluctant to be seen,

In simple loveliness it sooths the sense.

With bosom bared to meet the garish day,
The glaring tulip, gaudy, undismayed,
Offends the eye of taste, that turns away
To seek the lily in her fragrant shade.
With such unconscious beauty, pensive, mild,
Amanda charms, Nature's soft, modest child.

NATURE'S UNIVERSAL THEME, "FORGET ME NOT."

By J. M. LACEY.

"Forget me not!"what magic sounds! Nature, throughout her mighty bounds, Disowns them not:

Each vocal tenant of the grove
Seems warbling to a god of love,
"Forget me not!"
The flow'ry gems that deck the plain,
Or harvest-field of golden grain
In some lone spot,

With piety seem bending there,
And fancy well might deem the pray'r
Of each, "Forget me not!"
When tempests roar 'midst winter's cold,
Each trembling tenant of the fold,
By man forgot,
Crouches and bleats in bitter tone,
And seems to say in ev'ry moan,
"Forget me not!"

And shall not man-in whom we find
God's image in the godlike mind-
In court or cot,

Join Nature in her gen'ral cry,
And let one chorus fill the sky,
While this shall be its minstrelsy,
"Forget me not?"

THE MEED OF VIRTUE. From the German of SCHILLER. To Virtue's meed two ways are given To mortals by indulgent Heaven: The fortunate by deeds attain it; By suffering the patient gain it. Happy the man whose mortal days Are mark'd by both these different ways.

If a "Clandestine Marriage," what then? "Isabella," if willing, "The Stranger" will cheer,

And make him the happiest of men. If "Three Weeks after Marriage," "The Honeymoon" o'er,

"Lovers' Quarrels” begin to appear; Then 'tis "All in the Wrong," peace deserts from their door,

While the high "Road to Ruin" is near. That sometimes "Such Things are," is, alas! very true,

And give grief to some fair "Mourning

Bride;"

Or to some "Provoked Husband" give good

cause to rue

That in wedlock he ever was tied.

ON WHAT IS CALLED "LOVE AT
FIRST SIGHT."

(From "The Judgment of Babylon, the Siege of Masada, with other Poems, by JAMES CAMPBELL," just published.)

No, never from a transient glance

Can genuine pure affection spring;
Passion or fancy may perchance,

But love-oh no!-'tis no such thing!
Beauty of form hath charms, 'tis true;
And he that with indifference can
Its fascinating witchery view

Must be or more or less than man.
But lovely features, beaming eyes

Of purest blue or brilliant jet,
Cheeks which the blooming rose-blush dies,
Love's genuine flame ne'er kindled yet.
Thousands by beauty's charms deceiv'd,
Have to the treacherous idol bow'd,
Its power love's influence have believ'd,
And deathless constancy have vow'd.

Too soon, alas! the spell which bound
Their captive souls in willing chain,
Dissolves in air-no more is found-
Indifference and disgust remain.
True love is gendered by esteem;
True excellence its growth supplies;

Unlike fierce Passion's feverish dream,
Such love endures-it never dies.
Hence though no feature of the face
Is cast in beauty's perfect mould;
Though in the form few lines we trace,
Such as in sculpture we behold:
Yet sense combined with sweetness may
The soul subdue, the heart engage,
And love inspire, which no decay

Shall feel from youth to withering age: Whose steady flame shall brightly shine, Undimm'd by sorrow's wintry blast; Whose glow shall cheer life's last decline, When all the fire of youth is past; Whose light shall triumph o'er the gloom Of death-then rise to worlds above, And Heaven through endless years illume, Foster'd by him whose name is Love!

ΤΟ ΑΝΝΑ.

Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
Aud waste my soul with care;
But, ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair!

Yet in thy presence, lovely fair,
To hope may be forgiven;
For sure 'twere impious to despair
So much in sight of heaven.

ADDRESS TO THE BUTTERFLY, On PLATO's Personification of Psyche freed, or the Soul released from Mortality. From the German of MATTHISSON.

O beanteous sylphid, flutter still
From rose to rose, and in the rill

Gaily thy flower-like form display;
Drink th' ethereal breath of spring,
Then rest from mazy flight thy wing
Oh myrtle spray.

Glad may thy short existence seem,
Like a bright flitting May-day dream;
Henceforth may no ill-natured bee
Presume to chase thee from thy store
Of sweets, and Venus' doves fly o'er,
Nor injure thee.
When Orchus bids thy fluttering cease,
On Plato's brow thy shade in peace

May rest; his doctrine first decreed,
That after death the soul, like thee,
Released from earthly veil, shall flee
As Psyche freed:

That, like thy renovated birth,
Bursting its chrysalis of earth,
The eternal spirit upward flies;
No longer check'd by the controul
Of gross mortality, the soul

Shall seek the skies.