ed, and has been carried to great perfection, in Germany. Aloys Senneselder, a singer in the theatre of Munich, was the first who observed the property possessed by calcareous stones of retaining lines made by a thick ink, and of transmitting them in all their purity to paper, applied with a strong pressure to the surface of the stone. He observed besides, that the same effect may be repeated by moistening the stone, and applying to the same lines a new dose of printing black. In 1800, he obtained from the King of Bavaria an exclusive privilege for the use of his process during the space of thirteen years; and, in concert with the Baron d'Aretin, he formed at Munich a lithographic establishment, where music, and collections of models of different kinds, are still engraved.

This invention has made few proselytes in Paris, and would perhaps be still unknown there, but for the efforts of M. Engelmann. It would be too tedious to describe the whole process, but the following are the principles on which it depends:

1. A line traced with a crayon, or a thick ink, upon stone, adheres so strongly, that mechanical means are necessary in order to efface it.

2. All the parts of the stone not covered with this substance receive, preserve, and absorb water.

3. If, over the stone thus prepared, there be passed an oily and coloured substance, it will attach itself to the lines drawn by the ink or crayons, and will be repelled by the moistened parts.

In a word, the lithographic process depends on this, that a stone moistened with water repels ink, while the same stone, covered with an oily substance, repels water, and absorbs ink. Thus, when a sheet of paper is pressed upon the stone, the greasy and coloured lines will be transferred to it, and will present a copy of the design drawn upon the stone.

10,457 484 10,941

Of which there are in Vienna

Prague

898 103 1001 1119 25 1144

This was transmitted, by the Archduke John, to Dr Duncan, Junior, as the best periodical work published at Vienną.

VERSES

Suggested by a Tragical Event which lately occurred in a Highland Glen.

"Twas noon-and not a cloud let fall
A shadow on the mountains tall

That yon sweet lake embay;
And not a wandering breath of air
Wrinkled its placid forehead fair;
But like an evening sky unrolled,
Or a broad plate of burnished gold,
The sparkling mirror lay;
And all its lonely margin round,
No sight of living thing, or sound,
The gazer turned away,

From where, within its bosom bright,
The heavens reposed in diamond light,
And mimic banks of freshest green,
And oak-clad hills abrupt were seen,
Inviting still the unsated gaze,
Like fancy's dreams of future days,-
And as sincere as they!

Amid the deep light slumbering,
A bark has spread its idle wing,
But sleeps as motionless and still
As snow wreath on a frozen rill.

It seems a self-suspended thing
Between the heavens that laugh above,
And the fairy world and downward sky,
That fair beneath it seem to lie,
In smiles of answering love.

Why dips not the rower his slender oar,
Nor longer wait the breeze?
His friends expect him on the shore,
All gaily convened at his cottage door
Embowered 'mong yonder trees.
The pipe has waked its briskest note,
And o'er the green the dancers float;
The mountain nymph, with broach of gold,
And sash with many a silken fold,
Trips by her swain so true and bold,

All in their best array;

For young and old are banded there,
The spousal feast, and glee to share,
Of Angus' bridal day.

His mother's heart is light and glad,
And his little sister wild with joy,
And his father blesses his wandering boy,
Dear to his heart when far away,
And boasts of his favourite lad.

For Angus has a traveller been,
And many a tedious year has spent,
And looked on many a foreign land,
Since he bedewed his native green
With salt tears as he went.
But still where'er he roamed, this strand
Was pictured in his mind;
The richest climes had nought for him;
The regions of the sun were dim;

His heart was wedded to this glen,
And home the word that pleased him then,
And those he left behind.

In dreams he walked these scenes among,
Or joined his Mary's evening song;
Or in his pinnace skimmed along

The breast of the glassy lake.
Then her lovely form would beckon him o'er,
And as the light keel struck the shore,
He sprang to her arms,-and she melts away
Like a shadow touched by the finger of day-
He starts, and weeps awake!
Now feels he, like a burning thirst,

The love of home; in every thought, In every prayer, that word is first;

It seemed to parch his tongue with
drought-

Home, home was raging in his brain,
And swelled his very throat with pain.

Returned, he scarcely knew the spot!
"Twas not the image in his mind:
He comes a stranger, half forgot

By the dear friends he left behind : He almost weeps to see the change

That time has on his playmates wrought; Their looks, their very souls are strange, And truth a mocking vision seems To the fond exile, when he sought

The substance of his foreign dreams.

But to thy father's home repair,
Though thou art changed, no change is
there :

That reverend face is still the same,
And her's that to her bosom prest
Thee parting, ere she sob thy name,
Or weep upon thy thrilling breast,
Gives back the picture worshipped many
a day,

Which filial love had fashioned far away.

"But Mary!"-Scarce the word is said,

When, bounding like a hunted fawn,
He sees his own, his chosen maid,
In loveliness undreamed arrayed,
Spring breathless o'er the lawn.

Sweet Mary! ne'er a truer heart

Beat in a warmer breast than thine, And since the hour that bade you part,

And sent thee back alone to pine, This earth so fair, these heavens so bright, Seemed a foul dungeon void of light. Slow creep the moments clogged with woe, When expectation dims the eye, And sickens at the heart; the snow Descending through a frozen sky, Falls not more chill upon the breast Than those dark days of joyless rest. Poor lone forsaken thing! I see Thy light form glide by fount or treę,

And Thou, amidst thy leafy wood,
Art all so lovely, pure, and good,
That it might seem heaven's solitude,
And thou an angel there, Mary!

Give me these fragrant birchen woods,
These mountain glens, and falling floods,
These wild sequester'd solitudes,

To roam with love and thee, MaryGive me, within thy hallowed grove, To live with thee, my life, my love! I'll dream-that in the bowers above An angel dwells with me, Mary!

SONNET TO

ART thou some spirit from the realms above

That wanderest here to human ways unknown,

Wooing the shade of flowery limes alone, And, when a mortal views thee, fliest the grove?

To meet her longing mate no feathered dove

On swifter pinions flies, than thou hast flown,

Soon as thy glory on my eyes had shone, And waked my soul to wonder and to love. Ah! thou art fled, and yet thou wert so nigh,

That o'er my cheek, warm with the breath of May, Thy shadow passed, and waked my half.

shut eye.

thee.

Königsberg, July 25, 1817.

ON FRIENDSHIP.

(From the Spanish of Lope de Vega.) I SAY, have said it, and will ever say, That friendship is the height of earthly joy;

But where the spot of Spain, or Greece, or Rome,

Can give the friend true and without alloy? I praise, and reverence, and love, and bless, The mortal, to whom heaven supreme above

Has given that greatest good, a faithful friend;

Nor scanty here, I own, to me its love.

To have a perfect friend, with whom to share

The very soul, and every weal and woe, Is truly bliss supreme to man on earth; -Yet grant not me this choicest boon below:

For though to have, indeed, be matchless gain,

Yet ah! to lose is too, too, bitter pain.

SONG.

THE Soothing shades of gloaming
With gladsome heart I see,
When by the streamlet roaming
To meet, my love, with thee.
Oh! then each floweret closing
Seems fairer than by day,
It tells, by its reposing,

Thou wilt not long delay.
Each bird, its vesper singing,
Delights my listening ear,
It tells the hour is bringing
My fairest angel here.
Methinks, more brightly beaming,
The stars look from above;
Each like a fond eye, gleaming

With joy, to see my love.

Oh! come then, love, nor linger,
For day has gone to rest,
And night, with dewy finger,

The woods in grey has drest.
The moon has sought the fountain,
Thy shadowy form to see,
And the cloudlet on the mountain
A curtain spreads for thee.

We have great pleasure in announcing to our readers, that Professor Leslie is at present engaged in a series of very curious and important experiments, which will throw new light on the constitution and phenomena of our atmosphere. In the prosecution of his views, he has been led to construct a delicate and powerful instrument, on which he has bestowed the name of Ethrioscope.

Dr Thomas Thomson, author of the System of Chemistry, which, with other works, has deservedly ranked him with the first of modern chemists, has, we are happy to understand, been appointed to fill the situation of Chemical Lecturer in the University of Glasgow.

Mr John Bellamy has now finished his twenty years' labour on the Hebrew Scriptures. The first portion is about to be printed, and will be delivered to the subscribers at one guinea per copy, before the conclusion of this year. We need not inform our theological and bibliographical readers, that, important as are the ancient books of divine revelation, they have not been presented to the Christian world since the second century, except through the medium of translations, made from other translations. It is believed, for example, that the first authorized English version was made for the most part from Luther's German translation, which was itself made from the Latin Vulgate. "Were a version of the Bible," says Bishop Newcomb, "executed in a manner suitable to the magnitude of the undertaking, such a measure would have a direct tendency to establish the faith of thousands-let the Hebrew and Christian prophets appear in their proper garb: let us make them holy garments for glory and for beauty.""Innumerable instances," says Dr Blackwall, "might be given of faulty translation of the divine original."--And Dr Waterland admits, that, "Our last English version is undoubtedly capable of very great improvements."" Nothing," says Bishop Louth, "would more effectually conduce to remove objections, than the exhibiting of the Holy Scriptures themselves in a more advantageous and just light, by an accurate revisal of our vulgar translation.”"The version now in use," says Dr Durell," does not in many places exhibit the sense of the text, and mistakes it, besides, in an infinite number of instances.". "Whoever," observes Professor Symonds, "examines our version in present use, will find that it is ambiguous and incor

rect, even in matters of the highest importance."-We need not multiply opinions to the same effect, because it is well known, that the most eminent critics have been uniformly of the same opinion. In his modest prospectus, Mr Bellamy has submitted to the public a few passages, taken at random from his proposed New Translation, and the importance of his corrections will be evident to every one who will take the trouble to compare them with the authorized version.

The Dramatic Works of the late Mr Sheridan, prefaced by a correct life of the author, derived from authentic materials, are preparing for publication, by Mr T. Wilkie, of Paternoster-row. The long subsisting connexion between the illustrious author and the Wilkie family, is a guarantee to the public of the genuine character of whatever work appears in which their names are topographically united.

Mr Richard Hand, glass-painter, proposes to publish, by subscription, a Prac tical Treatise on the Art of Painting on Glass, compiled and arranged from the original manuscripts of his late father, Richard Hand, historical glass-painter to his Majesty. The discoveries of modern chemistry, which have brought to our knowledge various new metals and oxydes, which produce by vitrification many beautiful colours necessary for painting on glass, and which were unknown to the ancients, will be duly noticed, to correct an erroneous idea that they excelled in the art; and, in opposition to the mistaken notion, that the art has been lost, it will be clearly shown that it has been continued to the present day, and that in former times it was never brought to the perfection it has now attained. The mistaken grounds on which the ancients are supposed to have excelled in the art will be pointed out, and such positive proofs of their inferiority be adduced, as will leave no further room for erroneous misconception on the subject.

A pamphlet has lately been printed in London on the subject of the Herculanean manuscripts; and M. Millin, of Paris, has published in the Magazin Encyclopedique some account of the same. It appears that a Dr Sickler, a Hanoverian, conceives he has invented an improved mode of unrolling them, and that he is to be patronised in his plan. Mr Hayter was, in December last, at Paris, with a view to unrol the six manuscripts given by the King of Naples to the Emperor Napoleon; but, being obliged to make use of the ancient method,