manner that decency forbids us to describe. The fate of Kolkittoch was amply avenged: at the Restoration, his death and sufferings formed some

of the most serious and fatal charges against the Marquis of Argyle. Coll's execution took place in 1647.

BY M. DE JOUY.

A Native of one of the small German principalities, I belonged to the superior order of the bourgeoise. My mother was related to the celebrated Wieland; and perhaps it was the early perusal of his works that first inspired my fondness for literary pursuits. But the situation of my father was such as to preclude my devoting to them the time required for more serious employ. The eldest of a numerous family, I felt both example and exertion were to be required from me. I gave myself up to the study of the law, and leaving the University at the age of twenty, I commenced my professional career. Not all the vivacity, not all the buoyancy of expectation, so vivid in youth, can alleviate, or at least alleviate but very slightly, the bitterness of a first separation from the home where indulgence has made the happiness of your childbood. I felt it most painful; but there was no farewell like my farewell to Amelie, the companion of my boyhood, and the idol which every thought and hope worshipped; whose naive tenderness and gentle sweetness were even more endearing than her perfect beauty. Our families had been long intimately connected. Already Amehe's mother called me her son; but Amelie was as yet only fifteen, and a few years, usefully employed, would lay the sure foundation of the beautifal but uncertain visions of early life. I left them, and applied to the duties of my profession with all the ardour of a young lover, who knows that the accomplishment of his wishes depend on himself. Perhaps there is no security to a young man's principles, or such an incentive to his efforts, as a deep and early attachment. What charm can Licentions pleasure have for one whose imagination is filled with all that is exalted and refined? or what stimulus can be like that which to him involves the happiness of his life? Early mar

riages are too often productive but of mutual misery ;-often rashly formed and ill assorted. Of necessity deficient in experience, what else can be expected? But an early engagement, while it involves none of the more serious cares and most harassing duties, yet fills up the heart, leaving no vacant space for less pure feeling; and we all know how animating it is to look forward, and how delicious it is to hope. Amelie wrote to me constantly; and it was something more than delight to mark how in every letter her understanding developed itself, and her character gradually acquired solidity, yet without losing its so natural grace. I had been indefatigable in my exertions, and exertion was in my case, as it usually is, crowned with success. In six months I was to return home, to family, and friends, and, more than all, to Amelie. It was at this period that I received intelligence of her mother's death. I felt not only grief, but my heart died within me with vague apprehensions of impending evil; and this feeling was any thing but allayed when I heard that an aunt was to take the place of Amelie's parent, for I was not ignorant that, as the widow of a general officer, she had access to the court of our little principality, and that, naturally given to dissipation and intrigue, her character had not always been free from reproach. But Love and Confidence are twins, and I loved Amelie too well not to confide in her. Six months soon passed, and I returned to my native city, where for a few weeks I was unutterably happy, -as happy as success, competence, and affection, could make. Amelie, changed but in added loveliness, was all I had hoped, and her birth-day was fixed for our marriage. Our fathers settled between them all those necessary arrangements so tedious to a lover; and while they were settling the mar

COLUMBUS.

We are at length gratified by some authentic details relative to Columbus. They proceed from his native city, Genoa, where it was lately determined to publish the collection of Documents and Memorials relative to his life, which he himself caused to be transmitted to his native city for preservation. "Christopher Columbus was born at Genoa. An agreement, (published by the Genoese academicians,) concluded in 1489, proves that Domenico Colombo possessed a house and shop, well and garden, nella contrada di porta S. Andrea, (in the street of St. Andrew's gate.) The year of his birth most have been either in 1446 or 1447. He was the eldest of the sons, and was probably named Christopher after a Columbus of that name who was living at Genoa in 1440, as has been observed in some manuscript notices, found among the papers of the celebrated senator Frederici, The second son was named Bartholomew, and the third, Giacomo, who was afterwards called Diego in Spain. The name of a sister, who was married to Giacomo Bavarello, a cheesemonger, has not reached us. Christopher had such an education as might be expected from a poor woolcarder. He learned reading and writing, and the first elements of arithmetic; and, in the occupation of carding wool, along with his brother Bartholomew, his early days passed in obscurity. At fourteen years of age he went to sea, and continued in the profession of a sailor until his death. In the year 1472 he went to Savona, to which city his father Domenico had, two years before, transferred his residence and woollen manufactory. Christopher became captain of a ship of war, in the service of Réné d'Anjou, Lord of Provence, and King of Naples. About 1475, Columhos commanded a squadron of Genoese ships and galleys. He repaired to Lisbon, where his brother Bartholomew, an able cosmographer, found employment in the preparation of sailing-charts for navigators. Columbus did not remain long idle; but set out immediately on a very arduous voy. age, during which he went, in February 1477, as far as the 73d degree of north latitude, or, as he himself expresses it, 100 leagues beyond the Thule of Ptolemy, then called Friesland, and by the moderns, Iceland. He undertook several other voyages, especially to Guinea, to England, and to the islands possessed by Spain and Portugal in the western ocean. He drew maps, and made globes; and, in proportion to the number of his acquirements, his thirst for every thing extraordinary gained strength; to the activity of his enthusiastic mind the ancient hemisphere appeared too narrow, and the navigators of his own time too timid. Columbus, being acquainted with the works of the best geographers, and the narratives of voyages left by preceding navigators, and knowing how many

degrees there were from China to the meridian of Greenland, had no difficulty in reckoning how many degrees there remained to traverse. And not only the degrees, but the miles; as we learn from his letter, published by Morelli, that he had calculated the degree to the equinoctial line of the sun, at 56 2-3 miles (Italian). Consequently, as he was certain that the form of the earth was spherical, when he had calculated the number of miles from the meridian of Greenland, which he knew, to China, nothing remained for him to do but to commit himself to the waves. At the period when he first proposed the attempt, he was laughed at, and regarded as a fool, or a man whose intellects were deranged. His first thoughts were turned towards Genoa, his native country; of this we are assured by Peter Martyr, his friend, and the histolian of America. He therefore repaired thither, and submitted his plan to the senate; but he did not find the republic disposed to embrace the ideas of a man, who was only

A poor pilot, the promiser of kingdoms. Columbus next determined to apply to the Venetians; and went to the court of France, and from thence to that of England; and, meeting with no favourable encouragement from either, he at last returned to Portugal. King John, even while he professed to be attentively considering the proposals of Columbus, by the advice of a certain Doctor Calsadiglia, - - - - equipped a caravel with great despatch and secrecy; and, under the pretence of sending her with provisions and assistance to some of his people who were in the Cape de Verd islands, ordered her to sail in the direction which the admiral had proposed to go. As soon as Columbus was informed of this attempt, he became so indignant against the Portuguese, that, taking with him his young son Diego, at the end of the year 1484, he quitted Portugal secretly, and went to Spain." Such is the early history of this great man, and the rest is known, though this new biographer determines many circumstances hitherto in doubt. Besides the documents, which as authentic are highly curious, two autograph letters are annexed, by which we are brought into a sort of personal contact with this great man. Altogether, we have not for a long time opened a more curious volume.

MUMMY.

A young Egyptian princess, carefully cmbalmed, and preserving all her original freshness, although it is conjectured that about three thousand seven hundred years have elapsed since that operation was performed on her Highness, has lately been brought to Bruges. An embalmed cat was found in the same case with the lady. At that period an old cat was considered a great favour, although at present it would perhaps bear another construction, and appear ridiculous enough.

AN ALARM CLOCK, WHICH ALSO

LIGHTS A CANDLE,

has been invented by. Mr. T. George, of London, whereby the more certain and punctual awakening and rising of persons who have night business to attend, is secured.

WATER-PROOF MUSLIN.

Mr. Mackintosh, an eminent muslinmanufacturer, has been exhibiting in London specimens of water-proof muslin, and water-proof fabrics of various descriptions. He lays two breadths together, and interposes a thin laminae of caoutchouc, dissolve ed in oil of turpentine. The muslins thus prepared are light, and not distinguishable from others; they wash well; and they can be afforded at an inconsiderable advance of price. Silks, woollens, linens, &c. are treated in like manner, and even leather, with some improvements to moisture. Of course such a discovery is of very extensive application, and of great importance to commerce, manufactures, and the arts. Mr. Maberly, M. P. is understood to have engaged in its introduction south of the

Tweed.

ELATERIUM

is one of those medicinals respecting the efficacy of which no reasonable doubt can possibly be entertained; and, if in these papers repetition be employed in advocat ing its powers, the reiteration must be taken in proof of the writer's conviction that its virtues, however highly, are not sufficiently appreciated. In rheumatism, in gout, and in inflammatory affections of the brain, the Reporter constantly employs this potent drug with the happiest results; and dropsical effusion it meets and vanquishes with gigantic expedition and ease. If this disorder (dropsy) returns to its strong holds, after having been driven out by elaterium, it is because no power is any longer available to effect a more than temporary good. Where visceral derangement is not present, even advanced age forms no impediment to its free and full employment. The Reporter has just taken his leave of a lady who is seventy-six, and upon whom a radical cure to all appearance has been operated by a combination of medicines, of which the one in question constituted the master ingredient.

Of the presence or absence of visceral disorganization, it behoves the medical watchman to take especial cognizance, inasmuch as both prognosis and practice require to be sedulously regulated accordingly. In dyspeptic ailments, for instance, how different are remedial demands and probably results from the moment mere stomach affection becomes structural derangement. It is, however, the time and mode of the actual transition with which the physician must familiarize himself; for it is only before the change becomes com plete that an interposition of art can promise more than temporary alleviation of pain. Medicine, after all, is rather preven

tive than curative. We cannot regenerate or reorganize.

In the paper immediately preceding the present, reference was made to the principle of combination, as opposed to abstraction, in medicinals. On this subject an interesting communication has been received, which the Reporter will take the liberty to transcribe, merely premising, that the good which resulted from the change of physician and plan seems rather in harmony with, than in opposition, to the principle inculcated; not to say any thing respecting the warm-bathing, and the confidence of the patient in the last prescriber. The ailment appears to have been a particular kind of inflammation, seated on the membrane which lines the external surface of the bones, and to have constituted a species, if it may be so called, of partial hemi

crania.

"I am now fifty-four years old, and, about ten or twelve years since, I was afflicted with a violent intermitting pain on the right side of the scalp, just above the forehead. This pain used to come on in the day-time, usually about twelve or one o'clock, and to continue for two or three hours with such violence, that I can compare it to nothing but the idea we should entertain of rats gnawing the bone; for the bone itself was the seat of the complaint, as is to this day palpable on touching the part, which appears to be depressed and rugged, compared with the surrounding bone. This complaint continued for fifteen or eighteen months, notwithstanding I was under the hands of one of the most eminent medical surgeons in London, without receiving the slightest benefit from the many prescriptions which he wrote for me. Till at last I was really reduced to despair, and almost wished myself dead. The medicine which I took most of, and on which in the outset my medical adviser seemed to place the utmost confidence, was sarsaparilla in powder combined with natron; the copious use of which for a long time had no more effect upon the disease than if I had taken nothing at all. At this he seemed very much disappointed and puzzled; and very reluctantly gave it up at last for other medicines, which I have now forgotten (one of them I believe was the cicuta,) and which proved equally inefficacious. Tired out at last by these repeated failures, as a last effort I applied to Mr and, without telling him (from motives of delicacy) whose care I had been under, I described to him as well as I could the history of the case, together with the medicines I had taken, and concluded by desiring him to tell me candidly if he thought it was in his power to cure me. Upon which he instantly told me, in the most frank and confident manner, that he could; which assurance was more like a reprieve to a man under sentence of death than any thing else I can compare it to. In conclusion he wrote for me, and, when I looked at the recipe, I was not a little surprised to find

that his remedy was the compound decoction of sarsaparilla with the extract, taken about three times a-day, together with the use of the salt-water bath, at a temperature of 97, two or three times a-week. The operation of this remedy was truly magical. I had no sooner begun to take it, than I felt its beneficial effect; and in about a month or five weeks I was as well as ever I had been in my life, and remain so to the present day, so far as relates to this complaint. Now, sir, does not the foregoing statement prove, that a medicine taken in substance for a particular complaint may be without effect; when the very same medicine taken in another form or preparation may effect a cure? It is obvious that the sarsaparilla in substance combined with the natron, never got into the system, or, if it did, that it was utterly incompetent to perform a cure; whereas, in decoction, the same medicine instantly went to the seat of the disease, and performed the wonders which I have related to you. I have often thought that the relation of my case in some public way might be of use, and, under that impression, I hope you will pardon this intrusion."

THE DRAMA.-NEW PLAY. The Cataract of the Ganges.—Mr. Elliston having, for some time, given "great note of preparation" at the bottom of his bills, about a fortnight ago produced the mighty Afterpiece, which was to bestride the theatrical world like a Colossus, while the petty theatres were to walk under its huge legs, and peep about for dishonourable pits. Gad-a-mercy! the subject makes us figurative. Indeed, finally to crown the scene, the horses were, in goodness and in numbers, to exceed all previous exhibitions trebly! all these wonders were whispered -and more! But as we are now, like Mrs Brulgruddery, "only foretelling a thing, after it has happened," we shall come at once on this side of the first fall of the Cataract, and describe it as imperfectly and confusedly as it really appeared to us. The rising of the curtain discovered to us a field with a sort of blood-red distance, and men and horses stretched about, after a battle we presume. This occurred about half past nine. Fine men and women from this moment have their exits and entrances before splendid scenery until midnight, when, after a tumult of guns, trumpets, blunderbusses, drums, and thunder, the green curtain once more descends quietly upon the eyes and ears of men. If, like Jaffier, we were threatened with the tortures, unless we "discovered the plot," we must suffer ourselves to be made a foot taller, and to have our thumbs pulled off like lobsters' claws; for we absolutely know no more about it than we do about Mrs. Donatty, or the author of Waverley. We certainly know that one bright scene succeeded and exceeded another, until our eyes seemed dilated and double gilt, like a couple of Waterloo medals--and we also

know that the bridal procession, out of an arch very similar to the one in the Adelphi, was rich enough to shame any eastern mockery! The men were covered with tinsel from top to toe, like their little gingerbread fellow-creatures at Bartholomew fair-and the horses, three or four abreast, drawing a real car with patent axletrees, rolled grandly before the lamps under plumes which made it almost doubtful whether they would tramp or fly. When the stage was full, we only felt anxious to go without the theatre, and see whether the streets were empty of the people. There was one scene very cleverly managed; a cottage was burned as a beacon light in the front of the stage, and shortly this beacon was answered on a promontory far at sea, and the flames reflected over the waves, brightly or faintly as the fire rose or fell.

The performers had little to do, except to talk a sort of cockney-Persian, and to carry about 3 or 4 square yards of gold robe.

The piece, our readers will gather, is an empty, expensive, glittering toy, which the manager knows will catch that great foolish blue-bottle, the public. Not an incidentnot a word of the dialogue is worth remembering! If there be a joke attempting to be heard the horses applaud it by anticipation-and the ear is filled with nothing but excessive hoof! We say little of the horses yet, because we shall presently have to be at a great cattle show at the Covent Garden piece, and we may as well review both of the cavalry corps at once.

We must say the Cataract itself rather disappointed us as a waterfall. It was something like the pouring of a good teapot, only flatter; it was, in truth, no broader than a yard of sixpenny ribband, and, though it was real water, if it had run down with a little spirit, we think the mixture would not, in the gallery's eyes, have been amiss. A lady rode up it on horseback, and, no doubt, astonished the salmon in that quarter of the Ganges. Perhaps she was herself half a fish? And, indeed, as the mermaid has been missing for some time from the Turf Coffee House, might not this have been one of her freaks? We ourselves could have walked up the fall in pumps, and not have wetted the upper leathers. The water, indeed, did not come down in a volume-it appeared in the most miserable of sheets. The piece, itself, has since been published in a similar manner.

Mr. Sinclair, after a six years' sojourn in Italy, has brought his mellowed and accomplished voice back to England, and we hail its sojourn with pleasure, for we have never perceived its good effects of pure air and study so finely manifested as in this gentleman's voice. He is now decidedly a masterly and beautiful singer. All the harshness and uncertainty of his tones are gone, and the music floats on his voice with a gracefulness and a power perfectly delightful. He glides into the falsetto, without suffering you to distinguish where he quitted his natural tones-and his shake is