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in their charges, nor very accommodating in their house, as we have observed; and between the trades of hiring out gigs and sociables, boats and warm-baths, of jewellery, stationery, watch-mending, &c. no wonder, that the article of books (which should seem to be a main one in a library) is comfortably neglected. The other libraries are, to use a favourite technicality of the Stock-Exchange, "a shade better."

The market is little less than execrable; the fish-market consists of one shop; fish are at present very scarce, and abundantly dear. If you go to 3 butcher's, and fix upon a tolerable looking piece of beef, you are told--"that is for Lord Henry" (Seymour). If you flatter yourself that you are going to buy a fine looking fish, you are told, "that is for the Castle," (Mr. Lash's); and if, by some accident you only look hard at a lobster, the watchful tradesman anticipates your purpose by exclaiming with breathless haste, "that is for Sir John" (Beresford). In short, except you are one of those witless travellers whose heavy purses and light train are in an inverse ratio, you stand no chance of living tolerably at West Cowes, except you can put up with the accomodations of the inns there.

The rage, however, is to pay three guineas and a half a week for an ill furnished sitting-room, and a most inconvenient bed-chamber, in "a private house;" where you are sure of a bad dinner, with cookery to match; and a host of addenda, in the shape of charges tacked on to your weekly bill. "So fashion wills," as Belinda says. The Isle of White is very pleasant; but really extortion "hath her seat" at Cowes; and it is no satisfaction to look out on the sea for some amends for a purse which they will leave nothing in to be looked at.

THE MASON AND HIS SON.

THE following fact occurred at Clagenfurt, in Carinthia, when the French army occupied that town. The thunder had much injured the point of the very high steeple of the principal church; and a mason and his son were employed to repair it. A crowd of inhabitants assembled at the place to witness this perilous operation. The father, a man of fifty years of age, still vigorous and active, ascended first; his son followed him; they almost reached the summit; the spectators tremblingly counted their steps, when they saw the son suddenly lose hold of the ladder and fall to the

ground. A cry of terror arose. Al crowded towards the unfortunate man who lay shattered upon the pavement without a sign of life. In the meantime the father continued to ascend, performed his task, descended with sang-froid, and appeared with a melancholy but composed air before the spectators, who immediately surrounded him. All endeavoured to console him; but they soon learned with horror, that the fall of his son was not accidental, for that he himself had precipitated him from the top of the steeple. Heavens! exclaimed they, is it possible? What fury! what madness!—Listen to me, replied the father, without emotion:

In our trade, there are certain rules and customs. The oldest and most experienced ventures into danger the first: the younger follows. According as one ladder is secured by cords, another is raised, which is at first fastened at the bottom to the top part of the other. Then the eldest ascends this ladder which is only steadied at the bottom; and assisted by his companion, who supplies him with cord, he proceeds to fasten it at the top. This is the work of greatest danger. As I was occupied at the highest extremity of the ladder, I suddenly heard my son exclaim below me, "Father, father, there's a cloud before my eyes; I know not where I am." I instantly raised my right foot and gave him a kick, which struck him in the forehead, and he fell without utterring a word.

Infamous wretch! monster! what dæmon could have urged you to such a crime? Softly, gentlemen; I am assuredly to be pitied, much to be pitied; but I am far from believing myself guilty. In our trade it is well known that if the head turns giddy in a dangerous position, where there is no means of assisting one's-self and of taking time to recover, that man is irretrievably lost, Now such was the case of my son. From the moment that his sight was gone, there was no hope for him in two or three seconds more he must necessarily have fallen; but before that, and in his last agonies, he would undoubtedly have grasped at the tottering ladder where I was placed; he would have dragged it away, and we should have both fallen. In an instant I foresaw this inevitable result, and I prevented it by dealing him the blow which precipitated him, and which-saved me, as you see.Now tell me, you who call me a monster, if I had killed myself at the same time with him, who would have supported his unfortunate wife and children, who hence.

FRENCH MANNERS,-DETAILS.

forward have nothing to look for, but my labours? To die for him would perhaps have been the duty of a father; but to die along with him without any utility, is, 1 believe, what neither religion nor justice require.

During some moments a profound silence reigned throughout the assembled crowd; but the clamours re-commenced; the mason was arrested, and delivered over to the tribunals. He there displayed the same firmness he had shewn before the people. The judges, like the multitude, could not resist a first impulse of horror; but, upon reflecting on the situation in which he was placed, and the motive he had assigned for his conduct, they acknowledged that his reasoning, however horrific, was just, and exhibited a presence of mind to which, though with shuddering, they could not refuse their admiration.

FRENCH MANNERS. Letter from a Boarding School Girl to her Mother at Paris.

DEAR MAMMA,---How shall I describe my joy, and how great will be your satisfaction! Yesterday the distribution of prizes took place in this school, and I obtained two! Conceive the pleasure that I experience in announcing to you these dazzling proofs of my progress. How your maternal heart will palpitate with pride, when you find that your cares have not been thrown away, and that you have a daughter that will recompense you for all your sacrifices.

At first, I must own, that the ceremony commenced under very bad auspices for me. The prizes for application, religion, grammar, and many others, were distributed without my name appearing; but when the prize for dancing was announced, and the name of Victorine was heard---afterwards the prize for declamation, and again the name of Victorine was repeated--the hall re-echoed with applause, and not being able to support such powerful emotions, I fell fainting into the arms of the under governess, who had the goodness to bathe me with Eau de Cologne.

Our mistress, who is a charming woman, had invited to this performance all the nobility and clergy of the town. After an examination in the Belles Lettres, history, and other inferior parts of education, we played Zaire, with the youth of the college, and I danced La Gavotte with the Mayor. It is apparently to the talents I displayed in these two important branches of education, that I owe the double wreath which graces my brow.

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The Journal of the Department has given an account of this ceremony, and above all of my Gavotte, and my part of Zaire. The editor has had the goodness to say, that I excel in the expression of tender sentiment, and that I knew how to give to the passions all their shades. Madame V***, whom you knew when you were at school, tells me that I am your image, and that at the age of fifteen, you were not less perfect in delineating the tender passions than I was in my part. May I in all things follow so worthy a model. Your affectionate daughter, VICTORINE.

P. S. If you write to papa, say a thousand things for me.*

author, but the facts it contains are very frequent This letter may be a jeu d'esprit of the in France, especially in the boarding-schools of Paris.-[Note of the Editor.]

DETAILS.

THE more I observe the world, the more I believe in the system of compensations. Losses and gains, advancement and retrogradation, discoveries and demolitions, good and evil, all are balanced in the equilibrium of nature and fate. Formerly the substance of things was preferred; now the details are brought to perfection.

Behold how carefully are studied the costumes, the arms, the head-dresses of the most remote ages, for the representation of a tragedy. All this is perfect; but the piece itself is detestable. They bind books with admirable taste; but they write them---God knows how!

They have brought to perfection the art of making colours, when there are no longer any good painters. Versification is improved, and poetry declines. They write with elegance; and their reasoning is what was formerly dotage. What a crowd of excellent journalists! what a scarcity of philosophers! Every where we see good printers, and scarcely find one good writer.

Croesus is a bankrupt; he is ruined himself, and he ruins his correspondents; but his ledgers are kept with the most perfect skill, and his clerks write letters that appear to come from the hands of Morghen. Livius discusses, in a luminous manner, the most difficult questions in political economy, and his steward robs him of half his revenue. Calcas has a magnificent country-house, and he eats no other fruit than what he purchases at Covent-Garden.

We are advancing rapidly, no doubt, in what is called civilization; but would it not be better to run less, and walk with a surer step?

THE FEMALE AUTHOR. SINCE we live in an age that opens to women the doors of literary fame, why shall not I take the place which my talents and the inspirations of my genius have destined for me?-- Yes, I will write; will enter upon that career, formerly 'covered with thorns, but now strewed with roses and laurels.---What is wanting to me to become an author ?---Study, taste, reason, style; but how many authors have arrived at immortality without that heavy baggage.

I take the pen, and I prepare my paper; all is ready. I am in the vein now; let me begin.

But I want a subject. What shall I write upon-Fortunately for me, I have only to look around, and I shall find

an inexhaustible 'source. If I wish to

paint the solitudes of plains, the happiness of rural life, I traverse my saloon, where I have had placed ten or twelve flower pots, which my femme de chambre waters every morning, and which awaken in me the most romantic ideas.---Shall I speak of political economy? No person knows better than my husband the theory of loans and the disadvantages of a deficit--Do the Fine Arts demand my observations? 1 fix my eyes upon the plaister busts which adorn my mantlepiece.--If I prefer chemistry, I have only to examine the vast laboratory of my cook.---And if I wish to plunge into calculations, I will analyse the bills of my milliner, that I have not yet paid.

But no; I will take a bolder flight; I will describe the wanderings of the heart, the tumult of the passions, and the dangers of weakness.--And from whence shall I take my models?

Write, madam, your own Memoirs.

THE MAN-EXHIBITION.

To the Editor.

SIR-I am an invalid of the state, and I enjoy very poor health, with a retired pension, and a place in the hospital. I have served ten years in the wars, and can produce better proofs of it than the best certificates: the greater part of my nose and my right eye I left on the field of Hohenlinden; I lost my right leg at Marengo; and whilst they were charitably carrying me to the hospital, an Austrian bullet disposed of my left arm. Upon the petition made in my behalf, the Minister of War, of the time, freely consented to allot a place in the

hospital of invalids, to the surviving portion that remained of your humble

servant.

me

what is called the esplanade of the
I was walking the other day, upon
Invalids: two persons approached and
invited me to partake of a bottle: after
some ceremonies I agreed. When seated
in the tavern, they proposed to
a plan, by which I could gain forty sous
Parisian speculators in an enterprise.
a day, and my board, in aiding some new
There was nothing to do, they said, but
to remain all day in a Bazaar open to
the public. I consented, permission was
obtained for me from my governors, and

I entered the Bazaar.

The following is what is required of speculation takes possession of my perme: Every morning a member of the

son.

(the uniform of the hospital) for a very He first exchanges my wooden leg handsome iron one, properly ornamented with varnished leather, and for the construction of which a patent has lately been obtained. He afterwards fastens on a mechanical arm, adorned with a very commodious hand, which is covered with a glove without seams. removes the bandage which I wear on This done, he my left eye, and inserts a glass eye made to perfection. I have the misfortune to want all my teeth, and they supply them with a set of ivory ones, which put nature to the blush. silver nose yields its place to a turned up My one, which gives me a knowing air, and He afterwards adjusts, upon the hind is made, I am told, upon a new invention. part of my remaining leg, a calf of quilted cotton, made upon the model of those worn by the opera dancers.-But

this is not all: I have a fustian vest for rheumatisms, drawers of leather for aches, an improved corioclave slipper, a spatterdash for the gout, gloves of health, a silk wig, and a whalebone hat.

Now every one of these articles, from the eye to the leg, is properly ticketed with the price affixed! and to earn my money, i have only to walk in the Bazaar, and take care to make myself conspicuous. This attention to sale is carried so far, as to fill my snuff-box with Spanish snuff; my pockets are filled with twenty sorts of chocolates; I am continually chewing cashoo; I have pustile of all qualities; and lastly, with my remaining hand, I hold prospectusses, ` which I distribute to the curious.

L. P. M. Invalid, called the

Man-Exhibition.

• AN EXTRAORDINARY CHARACTER, &c.

AN EXTRAORDINARY

CHARACTER.

THERE is a being who is a citizen of the world, who travels incessantly. The air is not more subtile; water is not more fluid. He removes every thing, replaces every thing. He is mute, yet speaks all languages, and is the most eloquent of orators. He appeases all quarrels, all tumults, and he foments and cncourages all laws and law-suits. He excites courage, and instigates cowardice braves all seas, breaks down all barriers, and will never sojourn anywhere, He diminishes all geographical distances, and increases all moral ones. He makes rougher all social inequalities, or levels them. He has power over all trades. He procures repose, and banishes sleep. He is the strong arm of tyranny, and the guarantee of independence. Virtue despises, and yet cannot do without him. His presence gives birth to pride; his absence humbles it. He is audacious, imperious, and impudent: he is benevolent, and willing to relieve. He is the best of friends, and the most dangerous of enemies; the wisest, and most fatal of advisers. At the voice of the prodigal, he transforms his land and house into dust which may be given to the winds; and he assists the provident man to heap up his savings. Innocent himself, he corrupts innocence. He provokes all crimes, protects all vices, and attacks all virtues. He is not less the idol of universal worship. Nations, individuals, contend for his exclusive possession, although he is their mutual and necessary interpreter. He causes pleasure and satiety. He is equally serviceable to caprices and wants, as to tastes and passions. He gives nourishment and toys to infancy; and he is nourishment and toys to old age. He conveys bread to the mouth of the paralytic, and daggers to the hand of the assassin. He is deaf to the poor who implore him; and he forces himself upon the rich who prostitute him. He is the maker of all marriages, and the divider of all families. His natural disposition is to travel unceasingly. He is fit for every kind of service, but withal a wanderer. If he it is but to leave you. If comes to you, you retain him, he is good for nothing, he sleeps. Take care that he returns, for he knows how to do every thing; he is successful in all. If you want employments, orders, titles, honours, or even absolutions, address yourself to him; he knows all the magazines; he has all the keys. Are you weak, or powerful? No matter, he will make you either a Croesus

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or an Irus. Are you a Racine or a Cavois, a Rochefoucault, or the Jew Samuel? No matter, he will open to you the pavilions of the Tuilleries. Are you the niece of Mazarine or of Villars, of Isaac or of Praslin ? No matter, he will make you a duchess. He is indispensable: without him, princes would be obliged to make their own shoes; the ugly Martha would bave remained unmarried; Bouvard would he a mechanic; and Rhodope would be a modest woman, He is in the midst of all good and all evil. He burned Copenhagen, and built Petersburgh. He is inactive, and yet the universal mover. He is inanimate, and the soul of the world. In the plenitude of his power, would he bestow health, he sends Hippocrates; would he defy death, he raises pyramids. Lastly, sprung from the dirt, he is regarded as a divinity. But of whom or of what are you speaking? of Money!

STANZAS.

(From the Italian.)

Yes! pride of soul shall nerve me now,
To think of thee no more;
And coldness steel the heart and brow
That passion swayed before!
Thinks't thou that I will share thy breast,
Whilst dwells a fondlier cherished guest
Deep in its inmost core?

No-by my hopes of Heaven! I'll be
ALL-ALL-or nothing unto thee!

Thy hand hath oft been clasped in mine,-
Fondly, since first we met;
My lip hath e'en been pressed to thine-
In greeting wild;--but yet,
Lightly avails it, now, to tell
Of moments only lov'd too well-
Joys I would fain forget,

Since MEMORY's star can ill controul
The moonless midnight of my soul!
But I'll reproach thee not;-Farewell!
Whilst yet I'm somewhat free,
'Twere better far to break the spell
That binds my soul to thee,
Than wait till Time each pulse shall lend
A strength that will not let it bend
To Reason's stern decree :
Since Fate hath willed that we must part,
'Twere better now to brave the smart.
Not seldom is the soul depressed,
Whilst tearless is the eye;

For there are woes that wring the breast,
When Feeling's fount is dry;-
Sorrows that do not fade with years,
But-dwelling all too deep for tears-
Rankle eternally!-

Such now as in my bosom swell,
Read thou in this wild word,-FAREWELL.

OIL GAS is beginning to make some progress, but vegetable oils are found to answer much better than fish oils, both as to intensity of light and ultimate economy. It seems to be surprising that the vege table oils of France are not adopted in England, the lamps of Paris being equal to the best gas-light of England.

[graphic][merged small]

BALLAD OF CRESENTIUS.

I look'd upon his brow,-no sign
Of guilt or fear was there,

He stood as proud by that death-shrine
As even o'er Despair

He had a power; in his eye

There was a quenchless energy,

A spirit that could dare

The deadliest form that death could take,
And dare it for the daring's sake.

He stood, the fetters on his hand,
He raised them haughtily;
And had thai grasp been on the brand,
It could not wave on high
With freer pride than it waved now.
Around he looked with changeless brow
On many a torture nigh:

The rack, the chain, the axe, the wheel,
And, worst of all, his own red steel,
I saw him once before; he rode
Upon a coal-black steed,
And tens of thousands throng'd the road
And bade their warrior speed,
His helm, his breastplate, were of gold,
And graved with many dint that told

Of many a soldier's deed;
The sun shone on his sparkling mail,
And danced his snow-plume on the gale.
But now he stood chained and alone,
The headsman by his side,

The plume, the helm, the charger gone: The sword, which had defied"

A

No. XXXVI.-THE COUNSELLOR.

Whoso stoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself, but shall not be PROV. xxi. 13, The rich and wealthy readily

heard.

To suitors rich give ear,
Yet scorn the poor and needy man,
Nor deign his suit to hear:

But when themselves, in their last hour,
To God shall earnest cry,
Their anxious prayers he shall reject,
And their request deny.

The mightiest, lay broken near;
And yet no sign or sound of fear
Came from that lip of pride;
And never king or conqueror's brow
Wore higher look than his did now,

He bent beneath the headsman's stroke
With an uncover'd eye;

A wild shout from the numbers broke
Who throng'd to see him die.
It was a people's loud acclaim,
The voice of anger and of shame,
A nation's funeral cry,
Rome's wail above her only son,
Her patriot and her latest one.

Blackwood's Mag.

A VIRTUOSO.

AT Inspruck is to be seen a boot which it is said belonged to Charles XII. This boot is the property of an exciseman, who attaches to it the greatest value. An Englishman offered to fill it with guineas to become its possessor. This boot was wanting to his pedestral collection. He possessed, he said, the babouches of Mahomet II, the sandals of Caracalla, the slippers of Charles IX, and the boot-straps of Cromwell.

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