SSSjlleJ; AMUSEMENT OF VARIETY & VOL, V.— NO. 52 LONDON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8. 1842 No. 260. THE RE ATHER AND SON. SON JONATHAN.— Ah, Father, happy to embrace yer once more, I calculate. ( Aside.) D— n'd old gull, 1 guess. FATHER BULL.— Ah, my dear lon$ lost son, our love and friendship ha* once more leturned. ( Aside). The Jim Crow Humbug! SON JONATHAN.— We'll never part again, dear old father. ( Aside.) I should like to give him a good larruping. FATHER BULL.— And united we will defy the world. [ Aside.) I should like to clip bis wings for him. THE RETURN FROM SCOTLAND. Hollo, Joe Muggs, vy vere ar yer been to, yer and yer good hooman ? MCGGS.— Vy, Bob, my boy, ve had a itch for travelling, and ao started off to Scotland to join her Majesty, and ve've just come \ back. Ve at fust thought ov coming back along with the Kerveen. in vun of the steamers, but really ve did'nt like the sort ov company on board, and so ve thought it more respectable to come home by the land rout in our own wehicle. An, I say, old feller, ve . have got the real Scotch fiddle, and no mistake. The Mysterious Murder, A GERMAN TALE. The shades of evening had descended over the city of ' Prague, ere Leopold Rosenwold entered his quarters. He v,< a stranger, and the occasion of his arrival of a melan- choly nature. He had been ordered to take the duty in consequence of the sudden death of the only officer of the regiment with whom he had ever been ui- on intimate terms" The place of his abode was the same which had been assigned to Capt. Vanostrode, a government build- ing, situated in one of the most unfrequented streets. It looked exceedingly dismal, by the dim light of a lamp which burned before a shrine of the Virgin, in its imme- diate vicinity ; and the interior was still more gloomy than even the outer appearance indicated. A wide, daik staircase and a long gallery ushered the young hussar into a suite of large lofty apartments, scantily furnished. The house would have accommodated the whole regiment; but a few soldiers, whose barrack rooms looked another way, were the only tenants besides himself. Memorials of his friend met him, at every step; his sash still formed a festoon over the ample fire- place, be- tween a brace of pistols; and his books and musical in- struments scattered, in different places, through the apart- ments. The recollecsions which they produced in, pressed Leopold's heart with a deeper shade of sadness. There is scarcely anything more depressing to the spirits than the feeling of perfect solitude, in the centre of a crowded city. Leopold was often, hy choice, alone; but, now, he would have given much for a companion. The evening was cold and unpleasant; and, s . mewhat fatigued by the exertions of the iay, he felt disinclined to wander abroad in search of amusement. He strolled to the window; a high dark building re^ reiits frowning walls on the opposite side of the narrow" street! but all was silent and deserted He sit down by tfce'fire of green woed which blazed feebly on the hearth, a d-.^ azed upon vacancy, untiHie almost fan- cied that he could" see the pale face of Ins friend, dimly shaped in the dreary void. He stretched out his hand for a book, and si rove to beguile the weary hours « ith its con- tents. The volume was filled with wild tales ! of human beings who had brought sin and misery upon their heads by dabbling in forbidden arts,— fearful mysteiies by which the enemy of man might he summoned at need; tales of vampires, thrusting their unhallowed bodies into the as- semblies of the living; and of the murder of infants, slaughtered for the purpose of securing some horrid charm. The clock struck elevui, and, throwing away the booK, he sought his couch. He went to sleep, but not to rest; his dreams were troubled and feverish. The form of Vanostrode, re- peatedly, tlitted before him; and he walked through damp church yards, where the yawning graves disclosed moulder- ing bones and putrid fragments of the dead. Unrefreshed by° such disturbed slumbers, he awoke in the morning, and found the scene little less dreary by day- light than it had b en the preceding night. Long grass grew in the street i„ to which his windows looked. The opposite house had an air of jrandeur in decay, and bore, like his own, symp- toms of being tenanted by a much smaller number ot per sons than it was calculated to contain. Captain Rosen- wold was not a Bohemian by birth; family misfortunes had obliged him to enter a foreign service, and,— associated for a considerable period with a set of men whose licen- tious manners inspired him with disgust,— he had con traded a habit of living very much alone; which would have rendered his present situation less irksome, but for the cheerless aspect of his residence, and tie painful re- miniscences which it produced. He did not possess a sin gle letter of introduction to an-; of the inhabitants of Plague, and his sojourn in the capital promised to be « f the mo- t disagreeable description, he rode out through the environs of the city, during the morning, and walked in the streets, after dinner. Still, there w> re many hours to be spent, over a book, in his desolate apartments. Weary with reading, he often, involuntarily, stayed to the window; for, though there was seldom any thing to be seen, the light alone attracted him. Oae day, when thus listlessly employed, he observtd the old domestic who occasionally hovered about the pttmues, " I1 "| T ** i ii » • holding open the massy gates of the opposite portal, as If to give some approaching person entrance. Leopold cast his eyes down the street; they rested upon a female, tall, graceful, and too finely proportioned to be disguised by the black garments which enveloped her form. A sudden gust of wind— happily, as the soldier thought— caught her veil, and, blowing it aside, disclosed a pale and lovely countenance. The accident occasioned a moment's delay; but hastily re- arranging the flowing drapery, she went into the house, and the door closed upon her. Leopold was, now, never tired of standing at his lattice. A small square, in one of the heavy stone- framed windows of the opposite mansion, had been frequently left open without exciting his attention. He, now, contrived to exalt himself in a manner which permitted him to look down the aperture ; and, in this way, he often gained a view of the lady,— either pacing up and down the apartment, or sitting, in a pensive attitude, at a table, with her fair head lesting on a delicate white hand. Inexpressibly interested by his beau: tiful neighbour, he inquired her name and family; and learned that she was a widow, her husband having died an hour after the solemnization of his marriage. It was said that she had been forced into a union which she dis- liked ; and there were not wanting those who whispered that the glass of poisoned fly- water, which he drank in mistake, had not been left upon the side- board by acci- dent. Nothing however, had transpired, at the time, to criminate hf. r; and, the heir having disputed her right to the property for which she had been sacrificed, the house she inhabited and a small jointure a one remained. She lived in strict seclusion,— partly from choice, and partly because she was shunned by the relations of her husband, people of constqtience in the city ; and, others following their example, she had little inducement to emerge from retirement. Kosenwold discovered that she never left home, except to go to church. The sacred edifice which she had chosen for her orisons immediately became his haunt; and, placing himself ill a spot concealed from her view, he had, fre- quently, the happiness of seeing the black veil removed, which, too often, obscured the fairest face in Prague. At last, the lady observed that she was an object of attention to the young soldier; and she went out no more. The window, too, was closed ; and Leopold was left to gaze upon the cold dark walls which shut an angel from his eyes— for, not for a single moment, did he entertain the shadow of a doubt as to her innocence of the crime which the malevolence of some evil tongues had imputed to her. Leopold was in despair. Fascinated to the spot, yet less able than ever to endure the gloom that surrounded him he became restless and unhappy, romantic and im- passioned. Existence s emed valueless, when deprived of the object of his soul's mad idolatry. He had hoped that some fortunate chance would have enabled him to urge his suit to one who had awakened the tenderest senti- ments in his heart; and he could scarcely brook the di » ap- pointment of his wishes. The street in which he lived terminated in an arch- way, leading to ar ancient monastery. The arch was situated at the end of the barracks ; and, over it, was a large room, appropriated to the guardianship of military stores. Ro- senwold, being called upon to inspect the delivery of some new accoutrements to his soldiers, espied a door at the farther extremity, in the direction of Alexa's abode. He made no inquiry concerning it; but, being in possession of the key of the apartment, he returned in the evening; and, withdrawing the bolts of this newly discovered portal, found himself at the top of a narrow stair, which conducted him to a second door below, opening into a piece of waste ground— formerly a trim bowling green, when t he barrack was the residence of a Prince of the Blood, but now overgrown with weeds, and entirely disused, in a corner of this wilderness stood a fanciful building, of three stories in height, intended for an observatory ; and from the summit of this edifice, he obtained a complete view of the fair widow's garden. It was of considerable extent, and gracefully planted with linden trees. The soft turf was bordered with beds of flowers, and bowers of roses and honeysuckle shaded rustic seats from the mid- day sun. It was here that the beautiful Alexa spent the THE INCOME TAX. To the Editor of the Morning Advertiser. SIR,— In looking over the contents of an old drawer the other day, I found on a piece of paper the following, copied from Baldwin's Weekly Journal of the 6th of January, 1804 : " A. B.' s RETURN or INCOME. " I, A. B., do declare, I have but little moiey to spare. I have 1 little house, 1 little maid. 2 little boys, 2 little trade; 2 little money at command; Rather 2 little is my little all To supply with comfort my little squall, And 2 little to pay taxes at all. By this you see I have children three Dependent on me, *' A. B." I remain, vonrs, respectfully, J. S, Lambeth, Sept. 26. J1842. KILRUSH PETTY SESSIONS.— IRISH LOGIC. iten couch, which was lie, lest it should sink Jie of the dust- covered ' its capability of sua- i it, in the hand writing • friend had been en- nself; and, suddenly, f,— always singular and Ire differed widely from miction of his murder largest portion of her time. Here she walked, and read, and sung, and tended the blooming treasures of the luxu- liant so*. Here, too, were her birds; and Leopold's ad miration increased, as he watched her pursuing her inno- cent employments, dressed in tasteful yet simple attire, and divested of those cumbrous Jtfds which had hidden half her charms. Debating whether he should speak, or write to her, he regretted that he did not possess the poetical talents of Vanostrode, who had excelled in the composition of tender ve'se. Fearful that his letters might fail to make an im- pression upon her heart, he pond- red on the means of ob- taining a private interview; and prep - red a ladder of ropes, by which he could have easily descended into the garden, notwithstanding the height of the tower- But he was re- strained by the fear of offending ; and determined to con- tent himself with the pleasure of looking at her, until some favourable opportunity offered for the disclosure of his passion. One day, a sudden storm of thunder and rain drove the lady into her house, and obliged Leopold to take shelter in a lower apartment. Believing tlist the storm could not be of long continuance, and certain that the moment it was over Alexa would return, he resolved to remain where he was until the sky cleared. Always eager to repair to his accustomed station,— the spot vhich overlooked the garden,— he had never before taken any notice of the in- terior of the observatory. He, new, amused himself by examining the faded decorations. The furniture was of the most antique description, and % t dropping to decay. He feared to sit down on a worin- i' placed before an old fashioned under his weight. Pulling away cushions, to scrutinize more clo: staining him, he observed a small slipped behind it; and, upon unfoljpng it, was struck with astonishment and dismay, by sejfng a pencil sketch of Alexa, with a verse written beneal of Vanostrode. It was clear tb* l gaged in the like adventure with the manner of that friend's deat suspicious,— appeared to him to the general surmise. The ci flashed, like lightning, through hij^ irain There had been too many instat\ j> - of jjiicide, iu persons even less likely to lay violent ha'f? k upon themselves, for Leopold to doubt the possibility fit Vanostrode's commit- ting the act universally attribute! to him, when first the fatal catastrophe was bruited abrtf d. He had been found bathed in blood, in his bed, with his own sword lying by his side. But now, when he jierceived the facility with which his body might have been conveyed from the place of his secret haunt, to his sleeping apartment, he became jealous of foul play. His frame shook with liorror, and he looked round, expecting to be confronted by the grim face of an assassin, glaring in at him, from the open door. Was Alexa so perilous a creature, tha: death overtook the wretch lured by her fatal beauty? He juddered at the thought. The nature of his late studies— tl: e tales of demons passing into human forms— of fearful ( jo. npacts, spells, and l » ve charms, to be sealed by the life blood of some devoted being, had rendered him liable tc receive superstitious im- pressions ; and, in the dark mystery which now enveloped him, he was almost inclined to believe that such things might be. The melancholy circumstances of Vanostrode's decease had already, in a great measure, subdued the cheerfulness of his youthful mind; and now, they hung like a dead weight upon his heart for, in despite of all his efforts to rtpreis the painful idea, he feared to starch deeply into the cause, lest it should criminate the woman he adored. In his anxiety to secure her from the scandal of any pry- ing neighbour, he had always taken the most rigorous pre- cautions, in passing to and fro from the barracks to the ob- servatory, to avoid being seen. A thick hedge of yew which bordered the bowling green, not being sufficiently high, in one or two places to screen him from view, he in- variably bent his body as he pi ssed these gaps ; and, when at the summit of the tower, never permitted his head to appear above the parapet. He, now, determincd. tojmake his approaches with redoubled vigilance; for he felt that danger lurked within the apparently deserted precinct. Stealing cautiously down stairs he observed fresh traces his poems were written upon the walls; and in an ob of Vanostrode, in the centre apartment. Passages from scure corner, he found a military glove. It bore his friend's initials, and was stained with blood. The floor was covered with tapestry of so dark a colour, that it could not betray the crimson dye, which had been most probably poured out upon it; but the stairs were marked in several places as if the wood had heen scraped, for the purpose of obliterating spots that would not wash off. Passing down still lo ver, to the ground floor, Upon strict examination, he perceived that an aperture had bien made in the wall, sufficiently large for a man to pass threugh into Alexa's garden. The breach was carefully conccaled, by a panel placed against it on the insid e; and Leopold knew that it must be effec- tually shadowed, by the clustering evergreens which en- circled the wall of the outer pleasure grounds. Hitherto. Rosenwold's visits to the observatory lutd been limited to day- light; but, now, he determined to re- pair thither in the evening's close - to surprise Alexa- - and gain, from her own lips, the confirmation, or the removal of his suspicions, ere he proceeded further in the scrutiny which he determined to institute respecting his friend's death. Unexpectedly called away, upon military business, he was detained from his quarters till past twelve o'clock He thought the hour too late for any chance of finding the lady up; but, notwithstanding the peril which environed him, he could not refrain from visiting the place, so fatal to the unfortunate Vanostrode. Listening, to ascer- tain that no one else was abroad, he proceeded, with a cautious step, through the yew walk. All was silent » s the grave ; not a leaf, stirred, nor was there a single nlght- il of paper, which had . bird on the wing. He passed the aperture,— emerging from a dreary waste of tall flags and tangled weeds, into Alexa's fair and stately garden. Every thing, there also, was calm and still; and a light from a distant summer- house, assured him that she whom he sought had not re- tired to rest. He approached the spot,— a shriek smote his ear 1— another, and another 1— He rushed forward, burst open the door, and arrived in time to rescue his belove 1 Alexa from the grasp of a ruffian. Leopold seized the villain by the throat;— the garments which he disgraced proved him to be a member of the church,— it was the prior of the adjoining convent. Threatened with immediate de » th, he mac J a full disclosure of his crimes. Alexa h « d; " long, beloved herself to be under tlve Influence of some malignant star. A horrid destiny attend; ? those who sou< ht her affection. She had been mysteri- ' ously warned not to receive the addresses of a second lover, lest he should be cut off like the first. The crafty monk hoped, by this means, to work upon " the mind of a timid woman, and deter her from seeking the protection of a husband. He it was who pronounced her nuptial benedic- tion ; and it was by his contrivance that the glass of poisoned water reached the bridegroom's lips. The prior's endeavour to penetrate into the devoted lady's garden was prevented, by Vanostrode s persevering gallantry. He had found out the way to the observatory, and almost lived in it. The jealous monk feared that Alexa viewed the hand- some hussar with a favourable pje. and he resolved to remove him out of the way. Lying in wait, in the centre apartment, he stabbed him as he passed down stairs. The stroke was mortal,— Vanostrode placed his hand upon the wound, threw off his glove, but expired ere he could draw his sword; and the monk, wrapping his victim in his own vestments, carried the body into the barracks,— where, after stripping it ofthe garments which would have betrayed him, he laid it in the bed, artfully contriving to make it appear that the murdered man had fallen by his own hands. It was some time, however, ere the assassin dared renew fcis design upon Alexa. Rosenwold's extreme watchful- ness had preserved him from suspicion; and the monk, belii- ving that he alone was acquainted with the secret entrance into the lady's garden, made the bold attempt, so happily prevented by Leopold's opportune app- arance. The monk suffered the penalty of his crimes ; and the young soldier received the hand of the lovely creature to whom he had been so deeply and so ardently attached. " More power to your elbows," said Mike Donovan, as he was ushered before the three knowing looking magis- trates Of the Kilrush Petty Sessions. *' Aisy, aisy,— and what's the matther ? " inquired the under officer, a sort of magistrates' clerk. " Matther, matther, mavournir.," squalled an Irish widow, pressing forward. " Cushla ma chree. Could you but see, How the rogue chated me. There now, gintlemen— hear me ; ever since me own poor boy, Dennis Macarthy, died, its mesilf is kept a bit iv a sthore. I sould butthermilk, and praties, and whiskey, and the loaf, and such likes iv it. ( Laughter). Well, gentlemin, Mr. Mike comes in, and he ses to me, ' Mother Donovan,' ses he, ' how much will the big little loaf I see there, come to?' ' Tuppince,' ses I, ' honey.' ' And how njuch the noggin of whiskey, darlint?" ' Tuppince,' ses I, ' mavoyrnin.' ' Both tuppince,' ses Mike Donovan. ' Yes, both tuppince,' ses I, ' as I'm an honest woman.' ". Magistrate.— But what has all this to do with us, Mrs. Macarthy ? " Whist," said Mrs. Macarthy ; * both tuppince,' ses I, and then ses he, ' hand me both iv ' em.' " And sure enough its both I put down on the ctAinther." [ Roars i. f laughter. J JJfrV'Hwid me th" noggin. n" whiskey se » lie. ' Thue,.- . iiwliat,' ses I, • fn » l to the top iv it.' So he drank off the. whiskey, and ses he, ' take back the loaf.' ( Laughter.) ' What for, honey ? ' ses I. ' Why,' ses he, ' and don't it pay for the whiskey? both tuppince you said, honey 1'" ^ Roars of laughter.) Magistrate.— Close reasoning indeed,— go on, Mrs. Ma- carthy. " I will, yer hannar. ' Take back the loaf,' ses he, ' and that pays for the whiskey;— tuppince the loaf, and tuppince the whiskey, so me jewel, take back the loaf.' ' But you hav'nt paid me for the loaf!' ses 1. ' Sure tl. en,' ses Mike Donovan,' you wouldn't have me pay for what I never ate.'" ( Immense laughter.) Magistrate.— Did you say both were twopence ? Mrs. Macarthy.—( Curtseying.) Both tuppince, ses I, as I'm honest woman; and so he drunkt off the whiskey, and tould me to take back the loaf. In the true spirit of Irish justice, the magistrates agreed that it was impossible to make a man pay for what he never eat, and so did the logic of Mike Donovan prevail over the just claim of the Widow Macarthy. IRISH LEGEND. THE ROADS THS PLATES WENT. At some distance trdra Castle Tailor, in the county of Qalway, is a round fort called the Palace of Dunderlass, where it is said Goora, king of Connaught, resided ; there • a not, however, the least vestige of ;„, y uwilling place; this palace was near a celebrated ci'y called Adraban- It • s nnw but a village; tradition, however, iue i. t or « it nave been formerly very extensive. If the road, leading to the town, can enable us to form any idea of its extent, • he remains of that which led to this, wbutd induce us to >> elieve that it was twice larger than the present ro< d; ex- cept that there was an avenue of trees planted on each tide, it is not easy to determine to what use it was con- verted. Tills road is called in Irish, Buhtrlan da itaa miat — the road the plates went; and the story from which the uanve originated is odd enough. Saint Macdaugh, the king's brother, had rttired to the mountains to pray with a triar; when they had remained two days there, the friar was not so much occupied by de- votion, fiut he felt the grumblings of his stomach, from time to time ; tbi « made him murmur, an. i he » aid to the saint, ' l* pf, y_ 9vir Samtship'a pardon, but 1 believe you brought me here todie. o^ hunger; your brother Goora fives a feast to his coHrt to. dax ; 1 had rather be there than Oh! man oflittle faith,' .. replied the S& ict, ' c( o you • niuk I brought you here to die otf- bungft- V' And im- mediately began to pray n. ore ft.- Vfctr^ f otn cm. On a sudden the friar was » gree3Wy"" ourp> ii,>. ri to t, ee an excellent dinner before him. And wue'n King Goor « and his nobles leturned from bunting, very hungiy, they were very much > urprised at seeHig their plates and tables 8y away. I Oa this occasion, they did what every person might do whosaw Uia dinner fly away ; the cook with his spit, the servants and grooms, the dogs and cats, accom. panied- the king and bis court, either on foot or horseback, and ran as fast as they could after the plates. The dinner, however, arrived an entire quarter of an hour before them, and the friar, who had just begun to sa- tisfy his appetite, was terrified at seeing such a crowd ready to « » * tch the bit from his mouth He coiuplaiwed to the saiut agaiu, telling Ui ® jt were belter to give him nothing to eat, than to get him Tmovn^ i ... me uead by the hungry attendants of the court of Gooia. ' Oa, man of little faith,' siid the Saint,' Jei theai come.' They soon arrived, and when they got wltiyp thirty paces of the friar, the Saint put them in the mi ,-> d, 6. agreeable situation any people ran be in: he made iheir < eet slick to the rock, and obliged them to look on at the friar's repast* Tney sun show in the rocks the marks of the horses hoofs, of the men, dogs, & c , and even of the lances which were also stuck in the roek, for fear they should take it in their heads to throw them at the friar. As these ruaiks are visible, there can be no doubt of the truth of the story, and since this time, the road has b « « n and is still tailed ' The road the plates went.' CLEAVE'S GAZETTE OF VARIETY. The Robber Captain. OB, THE SPIRIT OF THE CASTLE. A ROMANCE. ( Continued from, our last.) CHAPTER XIII. A few more days now passed at the chateau of La Gran- geueuve, the harmony of the party not being disturbed by any occurrence, natural or supernatural, when a letter was received by the Marquis, brought by a messenger frorp Paris, informing him that the banditti which had infested the forest of Ardennes were dispersed by a party ® f the king's troops, composing an escort whom they had the temerity to attack, and several of them, togefter with their leader, taken prisoners, and brought to Paris, charged with treason. The letter concluded, therefore, with, a request from the judges of the • Chatelet, to whom tlie af- fair was committed, to the Marquis, to repair to Paris, for the purpose of adding his testimony to the evidence al- ready against them, as it was known he had made an at- tack upon them in their concealment, and it was considered the escape was effected ; all I can relate is, th^ t a Monk 1 template lift companion with m « cheo m pi a eency, Xotijore to speak, * id Leonora appearing absorbed - in reflection;'- Olliurl Dllcrii- last night demanded admission to the - prisoner, and not conceiving myself authorised to refuse a holy man, who said he had business with the prisoner of the utmost im- portance, I directed my assistant/* who now stands by my side, and then waited for nay orders ip the business, to ad- mit - him and sufficiently remark hifll, that no trick might be played by means of which the prisoner might escape ; my assistant must tell, the remainder.' l ' Please ye, my Lprds,' said the goaler's assistant, ' the Monk went into the prisoner's apartment, and had not been there a minute, before he pame running aloftg the passage in a great fright, and cried out, let me out! O let me out! the devil! the devil! and I looked up, my Lords, and there was a great t^ U apparition eight or nine feet high, with a terribly eountenauce following of him ; I was so frightened, and in such a tremble, 1 did not know what I was about; and the Monk, taking the key out of my hand, epened the gate, and ran away as fust as ever he could, the apparition came towards the gate, and I ran as fast as I could into a little room just by, and fell upon the floor quite out of my senses; and when I came to myself, please you my Lords, I peeped out at the door of the room, and seeing nothing stirring, I ventured at last to go to the gate, though with much shaking and trembling, NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. he could give some material evidence against them ^ Rejoicing at the capture of the banditti, who had ren- aad j found it ] oc| je( j. an( j j recollected then his rever- dered themselves extremely formidable, the Mirquis did i enc6i t| le Monk, ] lai( j taken the key from me to let himself not hesitate to comply with the request contained in the out. and j suppo8ed in his fright had locked the gate and letter, and mounting his horse, attended by two domestics, ( aken the key wjth hIm_. commenced bis journey the same day, leaving the Chera-. < But w], at have you to say ab,, ut the escape of th lier to take care of the ladies in his absence. • -. .. .... . . . Terrified at the thought of being alone, the Marchioness requested Cecilia to sleep with her during the absence of her Lord, which the latter readily complied with, a » d they retired early to rest, Cecilia was yet awake, and it wanted some time of mid- night, when the noise she heard before again assailed her ear; it seemed to be the hurried footstep, and the quick breathing of some one running in haste. Highly terrified, she started up in affright, and listened, with palpitating heart, whilst the Marchioness, who was likewise half awake, arose at the same time, and, leaning against Ce- cilia, seemed more affrighted than herself. The noise at length ceased, and they were both some- what recovered, when it suddenly returned with more vehemence than before. ' This is too much !' said the Marchioness, in a low tre- mulous voice, and immediately fainted away. Cecilia was nearly in a state of insensibility, and wholly incapable of affording assistance to her companion. At length, however, all was again silent, and Cecilia gradually recovering, now turned her attention towards the Marchioness. Terrified at perceiving her pale and wholly insensible, she knew not what she did, and had run to the door for the purpose of. calling Agnes to h « r assistance, when the sound of the Marchioness's voice ar- rested her steps, and, running back to the bed, perceived she had opened her eyes. ' 0 Cecilia,' said the Marchioness, as soon as she per- ceived her, • never quit the straight and undeviating path of virtue for the sake of any temporary advantage, how- ever brilliant or splendid, for you wijl sunely, instead of the pleasure you seek for, meet only with misery and pain.' ' My dear lady,' replied Cecilia, ' compose your spirits; you are not yet recovered from the effects of your fright.' The words, however, uttered by the Marchioness, sunk deep into the mind of Cecilia, and convinced her there must be some direful secret attendant upon the house of La Grangeneuve, which was, no doubt) the rfsuise of the gloom of the Marquis, and the pensive nrntmercof his lady, and which she could not help thinking was connected with the strange and mysterious noise she had heard prisoner ? ' said one of the Judges, sternly interrupting the man, ' let us have no more of this absurd story, but come to the point; you have connived at his escape, villain, and invented this ridiculous tale to impose upon us. Officers, take him into custody.' In vain protesting his innocence, the man was immedi- ately taken into custody, and the goaler proceeded :—' My assistant, my Lords, having told me the tale he lias just related to your Lordships, I ran down to the gate, and finding it really locked and no key to be had, 1 began to fear some conspiracy, and immediately took measures to secure the prisoners myself, and prevent any plot from being executed ; it was then, please your Lordshipi, that I discovered the escape of the captain of the banditti; but being myself a prisoner in the prison I superintended in consequence of the key being gone, I had no means of giving the alarm, and being late at night, it was some hours before we cOuld get assistance and break open the gate; and it was then too late, for we could not discover any tiaje ( if him.' The appearing to be the only criminal, the goaler was dismissed with a reprimand for his inattention, and the former ordered to be kept a close prisoner in a dif- ferent goal, to which he was immediately conveyed, not- withstanding his repeated protestations of innocence and so- lemn asseverations concerning the apparition. Intelligence was immediately sent to the King of the es- cape of the most material prisoner, who ordered, in con- sequence, a general pursuit, and offered a large reward for his apprehension. The judges, however, determined to proceed in the ex- amination of the Marquis, as his evidence murht still be of use; and it at length being finished, the Marquis deter- mined to return immediately, by easy journies, to his chateau ; the story of the apparition in the meantime be- came the general talk, and whilst a few applauded the in. genuity of the scheme, a far greater number were con vinced the devil had conveyed away the unfortunate cap- tain ; and that it was a real apparition which appeared to the turnkey ; or else, as some still more sagaciously con- cluded, the very devil himself. „ - , Returning towards his mansion, the Marquis met with Gradually recovering, the Marchioness at length became no material occurrence until the last sta^ e qf his journey, more calm, whilst Cecilia held one of her hands, and where stopping at an inn for refreshment and to change watched over her with the utmost tenderness. She asked horses, he was informed by the landlord, that a man of If any assistaj. ee should be called, but that the Marchioness I rank, who was travelling that way with his daughter, was positively declined, and declaring hera# lf to ba perfectly suddenly taken ill, and not being able to proceed, was recovered, requested Cecilia to compose herself to sleep, S confined to his chamber at the inn. Tho latter, however, ayowfc/ i her disbsijef ^ f the Matvjl <; hione. v\' s perfect recovery^ and determined to relhafr some time longer, for the purpose of attending upon her. Thanking her for her care in the most affectionate man- ner, the latter endeavoured to sink into the arms of sleep ; and as Cecilia watched her with anxious care, and contem- plated her lovely countenance with all the amiable traits that diffused themselves over it in mild and placid beauty, * Surely,' thought she, ' this cannot be the face of an ac- complice in crime! It is utterly impossible!' Again opening her eyes, the Marchioness insisted upon Cecilia's retiring to rest; the latter perceiving her to be much better, complied with her request, and they both endeavoured to forget their terror, and enjoy a refreshing sleep. Some time, however, elapsed, before either could sufficiently tranquillize her mind, and it was not till to- wards the morning that sleep came to their aid. It was late before they awoke, and dressing themselves in a hurry, they immediately repaired to the breakfast table, where the Chevalier had been long waiting for them. ' So, ladies,' said the latter, ' it seems you are indebted to the Marquis for early rising, and not to your own love for it.' ' Don't be so severe, brother,' replied the Marchioness, ' if you had experienced the terror we did in the night, perhaps you would not have been an early riser this morn- ing any more than ourselves.' ' What terror, my dear sister ? ' said the Chevalier. ' Zounds ! there is nothing but terrors to be experienced in this house!' ' Not such a terror as you experienced the other night,' said the Marchioness to him, ' arising from a dream, but a real supernatural noise, the same which you heard one night when you slept in an apartment near us!' * I am very glad,' replied the Chevalier,' I was out of the way of it; I think I will keep to the ghost's chamber, for I have experienced no supernatural disturb- ance sincethe nightwhenthat strange occurrence happened, which I suppose must have been a dream; and the haunted room seems in truth to be the freest from terror.' The Marchioness sighed and seemed extremely pensive, whilst Cecilia was too much absorbed in melancholy re- flections to make any effort to raise the spirits of her com- panion. The Chevalier, however, had now regained all his vivacity, and endeavoured to amuse them by every means in his power. In some degree he succeeded, and several days passed without the occurrence of any circum- stance capable of causing a recurrence of terror, CHAPTER XIV. Pursuing his journey towards Paris, the Marquis met with nothing on the road worth relating ; and at length arriving in that metropolis, he immediately caused his ar- rival to be notified at the chatelet, and requested that whatever related to hfei might be dispatched with all pos- sible expedition. The bustle of a crowded city, and the pleasures of the metropolis, were by no means congenial with the gloom that hung over the mind of the Marquis, and incapable of deriving any enjoyment from what was h « » iij- passing around him, he anxiously wished to be gone, and to be again immersed in the solitude of his chateau. Paying every attention to his request, the judges of the chatelet requested his attendance early the next morning. Obeying their summons, the Marquis was proceeding in his evidence relative to what he knew concerning the ban- ditti and their leader, when a man ran into the court pale and breathless, and in an agitated manner, jnfoimecl them that the captain of the band"" » * « escaped. The judg « ! were Pre8ent> immediately ordered this man, who was One of the goaler's assistants, to be made a prisoner; and suspending the examination of the Marquis, immediately dispatched officers to take the eoaler Mmself into custody, and bring him thither to an- swer for the escape of his prisoner. Curious to hear how the captain had escaped, the Mar- quis remained upon the spot; and shortly afterwards, the goaler was brought thither in the custody of the officers sent for the purpose, attended by one of his assistants, whom he said could give material evidence concerning the escape. J. Being sharply interrogated respecting it, the goaler re- plied, ' I am wholly ignorant, my Lords,; in what manner iaffl^ « comfortably situated at an inn, where the accommodation Compassionating the situation of a nobleman thus un- was so extremely inferior to what he had been accus tomed, the Marquis, without making any further inquiry, immediately sent a note by the landlord, offering to the nobleman and his daughter all the accommodation his chateau could afford them, until the father was sufficiently recovered to pursue his intended journey. The nobleman immediately requested the favour of the Marquis's company, and thanked him in the warmest terms for the offer, which he immediately accepted; but expressed fears of being unable to travel over the short distance required to the Marquis's mansion. Seeming too much indisposed to talk, and not impart- ing his name, the Marquis forbore to make any inquiry, and immediately made preparations in his carriage to ac- commodate the sick nobleman, who was soon after con- veyefl into it, and his daughter and the Marquis having entered, the latter ordered the pcstilion to drive extremely slow, and the nobleman, having with some difficulty sup- ported the journey, they at length arrived at the chateau of Grangeneuve. Hurrying to the apartment, in which were the Marchi- oness, Cecilia, and the Chevalier, the Marquis just saluted them, and then briefly stating the occurrence he had met with, they all immediately descended to the assistance of the nobleman; and summoning several domestics, pro- ceeded to the carriage from whence the nobleman's daughter immediately descended, at the sight of whom Cecilia started with surprise, for it was no other than Leonora du Quesne, the destined bride of Henri. Leonora was equally surprised, but each concealing their emotions, joined the rest in assisting the nobleman, who was Leonora's father, the Count du Quesne, into the house. Conveying him into the bed- chamber, which the Cheva- lier had quitted, the best medical assistance that was to be had was immediately procured, and every attention or- dered by the Marquis that he thought might alleviate the Indisposition of the Count, whose title he was now in- formed of by Cecilia. Assiduously attending upon her father, Leonora could scarcely be persuaded to make one at the Marquis's table to dinner. Thither, however, she at last repaired, and frequently contemplated Cecilia, the Marquis, his Lady, and the Chevalier, with scrutinizing attention, whilst Ce- cilia could not avoid often looking at her in return, or sometimes sighing, when she reflected that the female be- fore her was destined to become the possessor of the affec- tions of Henri, whom she yet loved, in spite of all her effartj to coaquer that unfortunate passion. 1 Returning to her father's chamber as soon as the repast was finished, she attended upon him the remainder of the afternoon, and signified her intention of remaining with him during the night. ' No, my dear Leonora,' said the Count, ' I will not suffer that, one of my domestics cm sit with me, and I insist upon your retiring to rest, parti- cularly as I feel myself beirer.' Complying at length with the urgent request of her father, but only on condition of being iustantly called if he became in any degree worse, Leonora looked into the adjoining apartment, and, perceiving one which she was told was oscupied by Cecilia, immediately adjoining to that which her father inhabited, sho immediately des- cended, and oamcetljr requested Cecilia would permit her to steep with her. Not much inclined to have such a companion, Cecilia could not however refuse the request, to which, to the no small gratification of Leonora, she immediately agreed. Joining the party for a short time, much gaiety pre- vailed, aud Cecilia, determined that Leonora should not triumph over her sorrow, exerted herself with a forced vivacity to entertain the company, whilst the Chevalier was all mirth, and diffused an exhilaration around, which the Marquis caught, and in a great measure forgot his for- mer gloom and melancholy, whilst the Marchioness wanted not a stimulus to that cheerfulness which the return of her husband inspired. CHAPTER xv. Having at length unanimously agreed to retire, Cecilia and Leonora repaired to the chamber of the former, where Cecilia being usable, in spite of her philosophy, to con. likewise remained silent." Some time having passed in silence, Leonora at length interrupte| it, and expressed her surprise at meeting with Cecilia so far distant from her former home. The lattjr concluding her rival had been acquainted with the circumstances which induced her to quit the mansion of the Count D'Autereche, was somewhat em- barrassed, and merely returned a general evasive answer, > that her residence at the Chateau of the . Marquis la Grangeneuve was to be attributed entirely to accident. Leonora darted her sparkling black eyes with a scruti- nizing glance upon Cecilia; ' I did hear,' said the former ' of your suddenly quitting the house of the Count, D'Auteroche, and was anxious to know the cause of that event; the Count, however, gave me one highly injurious t< i your reputation, which I could not believe, and with respect to which I was undeceived by Emilia, wh$ con- vinced me of its falsehood, but she positively refused to inform me of the true reason, though it appeared as if she was well acquainted with it - r and from these circumstan- ces, my dear Cscilia,' said Leopora smiling, ' I dp shrewdly guess the real reason for your quitting the Count's chateau, and much as I admire the nobleness of your conduct, I assure you I am not in the least indebted to Iyou brk' _ .. _ Hearing with the utmost surprise this address of Leo- nora, Cecilia knew not what answer to return, and looking stedfastly at her companion, still remained silent. Resuming the discourse, however,' you seem in doubt,' said Leonora,' what construction to put upon my words ; but now I wiil tell you frankly and plainly, that if Henri had ran away with and marrietl you, it would have been much more gratifying to me than your running away from him.' ' Is that possible, my Lady?' said Cecilia, whilst her eyes sparkled with joy, yet still displayed some portion of doubt. ' Very possible,' said Leonora, ' and an actual fact I as- sure you; and the joy that sparkles in your eyes, my dear Cecilia, convinces me how agreeable he is to you.' Cecilia blushed deeply, and Leonora continued ; ' to tell you the truth, I have not the least affection for Henri, and I never will marry a man whom I do not ardently love.' The frankness of Leonora interested Cecilia, and chased away all doubt and suspicion from her mind. ' But will not your father, Leonora,' said Cecilia sighing, ' compel you to marry Henri, upon whom I know compul- sion will be exercised.' ' No, my deal,' replied Leonora, ' I have talked much with my father upon the subject, and it being his ardent wish that we should be united, he expostulated for some time with me relative to it; but at le igth perceiving my determination to be immoveable, and having a sincere af- fection for me, he consented to allow me to act according to my own inclination.' ' Is the Count D'Autefoche acquainted with this ?' said Cecilia. ' Not wholly I believe; a marriage between me and Henri was a measure long agreed upon between him and my father, and the latter had not resolution enough to im- part to him my determination, sanctioned by his own con- sent, but he dropped somtrhints, which created considera- ble surprise in the mind of the Count D'Auteroche, and my father expecting he would request an explanation, which he had not resolution sufficient to give, pleaded sudden business of importance, and immediately com- menced a tour, for the purpose of getting rid of the bu- siness, if possible, or at any rate avoiding a personal ex- planation.' A new train of reflections now arose in the mind of Ce- cilia, and she regretted she had not returned to this man- sion of the Count D'Auteroche, instead of persisting in absenting herself, and concealing the place of her retreat, but still it seemed probable, knowing the avaricious dis- position of the Count, that he would seek out for another heiress, whom Ills soft m% ht lead to the hymenial altar, and had she returned, it might only have been to be still more enchained by the fetters of love and rendered more miserable than she was at present, by being compelled to yield up its object. Leonora perceiving the thoughtful manner of Cecilia, smilingly said,' you need not despair, Henri will still be your's.' ' My dear Leonora,' said Cecilia.' I am much indebted to you for all that you have said ; I will confess that Henri is not indifferent to me, and that he ardently loves me I am fully convinced ; this formed the reason for my quit- ing the house of the Count D'Auteroche, which you have rightly guessed, was gratitude towards my benefactor; still, alas, I fear, the Count's avarice forms an inseparable barrier to our union, for never will I yield to the intreaties of Henri, unsanctioned by the consent of his father; I hope, however, my dear Leonora, you will be more fortu- nate, and become united to the man of your heart, who- ever he may be.' Blushing deeply, Leonora thanked her companion for the wish she had expressed. ' Now,' said Cecilia, smiling, ' I can retort upon yon, your blush betrays yo » ^ ' It does, my dear Cecilia, but do not think that, because I am the sole heiress of a wealthy nobleman, I am there- fore privileged any more thau yourself to become united at pleasure with the object of my affections.* ' Are you then unfortunate, my dear Leonora ? ' * I am afraid so,' repBtd Leonora, sighing, * I was riding on horseback one day il the neighbourhood of my father's mansion, and insensibly approached the forest of Arden- nes ; my horse unfortunately taking fright, I was thrown to the ground with considerable violence, and remained some time in a state of insensibility. When I opened my eyes, a Cavalier of elegant appearance, and most interest- ing countenance, was banging over me, and appeared to be watching my recovery with the most anxisus and tender solicitude. ' Recovering sufficiently to thank him, which I did in the warmest terms, he r^ Jtied, with the utmost pcliteness, and a sound of horses bsSng now heard, immediately took his leave very politely, though in a hurried manner, leaving me entirely ignorant of his name and quality, as he was likewise of mine, ind rather surprised at the same time at the haste with which he quitted me. ' His fine form, howevet-, his Uterestingfeatures, and the elegant tenderness of hi/ manner, became forcibly im- pressed upon my recollection, and I remained lost in a deep reverie, and without the inclination to move from the spot, until I was aroused by a voice, and turning round, perceived my servant at my side. Hastily inquir- ing why I had not seen him before, he informed me, that he too was thrown from his horse at some distance from the place where we now were, a circumstance which I had not perceived, and as soon as he recovered, which did not take place till after some time had elap3ed, he hastened along the road, which he supposed I had taken, and at length luckily perceived me.' ( To be continued.) A. A. A.— The sketch under consideration, 1. LUCY.— We shall endeavour to make room for the vtjses; and hope, as it is the first attempt, you will, lite a good scholar, go on improving. P. R.— The Essay is not suited to our columns. T. N.-— The Charades shall be attended to; the answers to the former came too late. J. W.— The poet you mention shall be ipcludef in the general review we are making. A. R.— The outline of the story furnished is too meagre ; it requires some flesh and blood ere it can appear in our pages. ,# PUNCH'S HORNPIPE.— Have our readers heard the new tune, whistled' by the hoys in the streets' If they have, it is Punch's Hornpipe. If they have not, they will find it duly noted doirn in " The Musical Bee," Ns. 3. We ire glad that somethiag lively in the shape of a dashing tune or two, is likely to herald in Old Christmas, which is now close upon our heels. Punch's Hornpipe is a fine, bold, active, vigorous, keep- moving, slap- up melody, that throws the blue devils slick in the rear, and gives the hearer an idea of the immortal " Punch'' in his merry moments. Just Published, price One shilling, No. 7, of f g^ HE UNION ; a Monthly Record of Moral, Soeial, 8 and Educational Progress. CONTENTS : National Difficultly, their Causes and uemedj— Dioaenes and Alexander— Touch'd in the Head, Part V.. The Story of Molly Parsons, by the Author of" Remembrances of a Monthly Nurse "— Legislation : What it can and caunot do— So- ciety and its PrejiHics— Fine Art: Article VI„ The present state of popular t'a> te in the Arts, and the causes thereof, con- sidered in combination— Tho Cottage Harden and Allotment System— The Christianity of our Criminal Jurisprudence— Monthly Register, The Steam Power Victims, the Queen's Visit to Scotland, & e.. & c., & « . ' London: Sherwood and Co., Paternostei - row. C LEAVE'S GAZETTE OF VARIETY. SKETCHES OF MODERN BRITISH LITERATURE. THE POETS— KIKKE WHITE. GOOD EXAMPLE Think not, Sultan, that in the se- questered vale alone dwells virtue, and her sweet com- panion, with attentive eye, mild, affable benevolence'. no ; the first great gift we can beitow on others, is a good ex- ample.— Sir Charles Monell. CONVERSATION OF MEN OF GENIUS.— The great Colbert paid a pretty compliment to Bulean and Racine. This minister, at his villa, was enjoying the conversation of our two poets, when the arrival of a prelate was announced ; tumiDg quickly to the servant, he said, " Let him be shown everything except myself."— D'Israeli's Curhsities of Literature. POSSIBILITY.— Those things are to be held possible, which are to be done by some person, though not by every one ; and which may be done by many, though not by any one; and which may be done in succession of ages, though not within the hour- glass of one man's life; and which may be done by public designation, though not by private endeavour.— Bacon. Though we must strike a somewhat lower note of praise, while dwelling on the subject of the present sketch, than that employed in depicting the genius of Cowper, there still remains much entitled t<> admi- ration— great talent, considerable genius, goodness of heart, and amiability of disposition, with an unquench- able thirst after knowledge and distinction, which no- thing but death could stay. There can be no dispute that Kirke White excelled every young writer of his time ; for though we hold him inferior to Bloomfield in original genius, his uuceasing perseverance in the cultivation of the mind enabled him much to ex- cel in poetical execution the author of the " Fanner's Boy." When we bear in mind that Kirke White died in his 21st year, and that some of his principal poems were written while he was just emerging from boy- hood, the productions of his mind are truly wonderful. Had he reached a more mature age, and had health been spared him, he would no doubt have occupied a very prominent position both as a poet and a prose writer, though it is questionable whether he would ever have attained the first class. For though his poems, taking age into account, are so remarkable, compared with the productions of other writers under similar circumstances, it generally happens that your precocious geniuses turn out in after life much infe- rior to their early indications, while the greatest minds often give but faint evidenoe of their powers 4mtH the full period of manhood. The overworking of the brain, ere the proper development of the physical powers, often blights the greatest promise of youth, and shrouds in comparative dullness the afternoon of the day, over whose morning had arisen the brightest sun. His poems exhibit little originality, and none of them are of great length, or display much ingenuity of construction. There is but little brilliancy; few extraordinary thoughts or passages that strike the mind, like the immortal sayings of Shaksperc, and never are forgotten ; yet notwithstanding, there is often considerable good sense, great sweetness of ver- sification, and occasionally very correot and forcible descriptions ef nature. Sublimity he has none, and but little pathos or strong feeling; hut he exhibits an elegant and cultivated fancy, and a polished taste The most disagreeable qualities in his writings are the morbid melancholy, and austere religious feeling which pervade the whole. His ill health and strong religious excitement, are written in almost every line, and the reader is continually pained by the presenta- tion of dull and desponding images, and gnostly re- flections, unrelieved by any bursts of sunshine and cheerfulness. Ttiere is, however, one thing certain about the subject of our sketch which, cannot lie often said of the greatest geniuses. lie received from his contemporaries the full meed of praise due, and in some instaces more than what was due. As proofs of this we need only refer to the eulogies of Byron and Southey ; which notwithstanding the high charac- ter 6f the authorities, must be pronounced by the im- partial judge of literature as rather overdrawn. Ren- der to all what is due, but let not every flauuting flower assume the bearing and odour of the rose. The fullwing extract from Cliftm Grove, is a very fair specimen of his descriptive powers. Now pass'd, whate'er the upland heights display, Down the steep cliff I wind my devious way p Oft rousing, as the rustling path I beat, The timid hare from its accustom'd seat. And oh! how sweet this walk o'erhung with wood, That winds the margin of the solemn flood 1 What rural objects steal Hpon the sight! What rising views prolong the calm delight! The brooklet branching from the silver Trent, The whispering birch by every zephyr bent, The woody island, and the naked mead, The lowly hut half- hid in groves of reed, The rural wicket, and the rural stile, And frequent interspersed, the woodman's pile. Above, below, where'er I turn my eyes, Rocks, waters, woods, in grand succession rise. High up the cliff the varied groves ascend, And mournful larches o'er the wave impend. Around, what sounds, what magic sounds, arise, What glimmering scenes salute my ravish'd eyes ? Soft sleep the waters on their pebbly bed, The woods wave gently o'er my drooping head. And, swelling slow, comes wafted on the wind Lorn Progne's note from distant copse behind. Still every rising sound of calm delight Stamps but the fearful silence of the night, Save when is heard between each dreary rest, Discordant from her solitary nest, The owl, dull- screaming to the wandering moon ; Now riding, cloud- wrapp'd near her highest noon; Or when the wild- duck, southering, hither rides, And plunges sullen in the sounding tides. Who would imagine that the subjoined passage from the poem of Childhood, was written by a boy of fourteen. It is full of beautiful and pleasing imagery. At evening, too, how pleasing was our walk, Endear'd by Friendship's unrestrained talk, When to the upland heights we bent our way, To view th » last beam of departing day: How calm was all around ! no playful breeze Sigh'd mid the wavy foliage of the trees, But all was still, save when, with drowsy song, The gray fly wound his sullen horn along; And save when, heard in soft, yet « etry glee, The distant church bells' mellow harmony ; The silver mirror of the lucid brook, That mid the tufted broom its still course took ; The rugged arch, that clasp'd its silent tides, With moss and rank weeds hanging down its sides j The craggy rock, that jutted on the sight ; The shrieking bat, that took its heavy flight; All, all, was pregnant with divine delight. We loved to w^ tch the swallow swimming lugh, In the bright azure of the vaulted sky; Or gaze upon the clouds, whose colour'd pride Was scatter'd thinly o'er the welkin wide, And tinged with such variety of shade, To the charm'd soul sublimest thoughts convey'd. In these what forms romantic did we trace, While Fancy led us o'er the realms of space ! Now we espied the Thunderer in his ear, Leading the embattled seraphim to war, Then stately towers described sublimely high, In Gothic grandeur frowning on the sky Or saw, wide- stretching o'er the azure height, A ridge of glaciers in mural white. Hugely terrific— But those times are o'er, And the fond soene can charm mine eyes no more; For ihou art gone, and I am left below, Alone to struggle through this world of wo. Ilis two longest poems are the Christiad and Time ; neither of which present any remarkable feature, or contain any thing striking enough for quotation. They are both thoroughly religious poems, with a strong doctrinal bias, and little better in construction than the average of that class of productions which generally speaking ( Milton always excepted) reflect little credit on our national literature. Both the poems referred to, are unfinished, and not by any means the best specimens of the author's powers, or largeness ot mind. Many of Kirke White's small poems and sonnets are very beautiful. He appears to excel in that which requires taste anil skill, but little continued exertion while he lags behind when he attempts a Ion" sus- tained flight. His physical debility may in a great measure account for this. We have only room for two other estracis ; they are both short poems, yet in our opinion among the best he has written. The first is a sonnet On hearing the soundt oj an yEoliun Hurp. So ravishingly soft upon the tide Of the infuriate gust, it did career, It might have sooth'd its rujged charioteer. And suuk him to a Zephyr; then it died, Melting in melody ;— and I descried, Borne to some wizard stream, the fcrm appear Of dtuid sage, who on the far- off car Pour'd his long song, to which the surge replied; Or thought I heard the hapless pilgrim's knell, Lost in some wild enchanted fotest's bounds, By unseen beings sung ; or are these sounds Such, as ' tis said, at night are known to swell By startled shepherd on the lonely heath, Keeping his night- watch sad portending death ? The next is To an early Primrose. Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire ! Whose modest form, so delicately fine, Was nursed in whirling storms, And cradled in the winds. Thee when young Spring first question'd Winter's sway And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw To mark bis victory. . < I • > In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance. So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms Of chill adversity, in some lone walk Of life she rears her head, Obscure and unobserved ; While every bleaching breeze that on her blows. Chastens her spotless purity of breast. And hardens her to bear Serene the ills of life. We cannot close this notice of Kirke White with- out retnarkini the utter neglect which the best minds often pay to health and physical development. How many thousands of promising youths have been ship- wrecked like the subject of this article, by neglecting the laws of human nature— from incessant study, and overworking the cerebral organ ; as if men had no brains, nerves, or digestive apparatus, that re- quire training and attention, as well as the attain- ment of University degrees, Kirke White was a mar- tyr to this great error. Study with him was a pas- sion ; for it, exercise was neglected,— sleep abandoned, — pleasure of every kind eschewed; and just when the prize for which he struggled so earnestly was within reach, Death stepped in and prostrated his ambition for ever. From this let other youthiul as- pirants to fame beware how they trifle with the deli- cate structure in which great thought is so o( t enclosed. Let physical and mental culture go hand in hand, and the tree, if it be of the Garden of Genius, will in due time produce abundant fruit, SIGHTS OF BOOKS. The Deformities of the Chest, by WILLIAM COULSON. Lon- don : Thomas Hurst, 65, St. Paul's Church Yard. This is a work from an eminent surgeon, especially addressed to the ladies, exhibiting the deplorable ef- fects of compressing the chest by tight lacing. We recommend it to the perusal of the fair sex, as the ad- vice it tenders, we are sure, if acted upon, will im- prove their beauty; and certainly preserve their health. We may remark, that Mr. Cleave published some time ago, a cheap pamphlet on the same subject, which Mr. Coulson has represented to have been borrowed from his work. From a comparison between the two we have just made, there does not appear to be the least reason for the supposition. We cannot find a single passage taken from the one and inserted in the other; while Mr. Cleave's pamphlet gives its authorities for whatever it extracts from other parties. i The Factory System. Illustrated in a serifs of Letters to the Right Hon. Lord Ashley, M. P. By WILLIAM DODD, a Factory Cripple. London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, This publication is one or the best expositions of the Factory System that has yet appeared ; by one who in early life was a victim of its deteriorating influence. From the high standing of the publisher and the patronage of thebenevolent lord, whose name graces the title page, it is hoped it will circulate widely among the wealthy; and should it startle those in high places, a id induce reflection there, on the workings of one dark department of the present sys- tem, it may te instrumental, ultimately, in leading to a correction of the evils therein narrated. The coun- try that can afford material for such a book, may be called civilized, yet whatever indicates civilization is far removed from the toiling millions, which consti- tute the greatest part of its inhabitants. The system CLEAVE'S GAZETTE OF VARIETY. msy be civilization to the proud and wealthy, but it is barbarism of the direst description to the overtaxed and oppressed producers of wealth. The Ladies' Handbook of Fancy Needle- work and Em- broidery, containing plain and ample Directions, whereby to become a perfect Mistress of those delightful Arts.— London: CLARKE & CO., Old Bailey. Having transferred the task of criticising the above little work to those best qualified tojudge of its merits — the ladies— we have briefly to record the substance of the verdict pronounced. " To those who are not already practically conversant with the various des- criptions of ornamental needle- work described in its pages, The Ladles' Handbook of Fancy Needlework and Embroidery will prove a very valuable assistant; and even to such as are perfect mistresses of these delightful and useful accomplishments, the book will be very useful as a reference, previously to the com- mencement of a new pattern of work, as well as in producing almost endless combinations of designs To any young lady who will attentively peruse its pages, it cannot fail to prove highly advantageous, in ably seconding the efforts of her instructress in orna mental needle- work." The price ( Is.) will no duubt cause it to become a subject for presentation to many a daughter by fond and hoping fathers. The Demon of the Draclienfels. A Romantis Tale, founded on Ihe Drama of that numet now performing with immense success at the Theatre Royal Sadler's Wells. ( CONTINUED ) No sooner had Faust, in the moment of passion, com- mitted this dreadful act, than he was seized with a violent fit of remorse. For the time he lost sight of every consi- deration but the fearful crime he had committed. The utmost confusion prevailed among the company. Cries of murderer and parricide were hurled indignantly at the head of Faust. Some ran to the street, shouting for help, and others to call ir. the officers of the Inquisition. In a few moments the emissaries of the Inquisition arrived. Faust made no attempt to escape. At this mo- ment all the proceedings of his by- gone life came up in review before his mind's eye, and he cursed the day that he was born. Completely overwhelmed with the enor mity of his guilt, he prayed f. r death as earnestly as before he had desired to live. He was on the point of delivering himself up to the officers of the Inquisition, when he was prompted by the demon. ' I can yet save thee,' whispered the fiend. ' Never!* replied Faust; ' I am prepared to die! Think'st thou that a wretch with his father's blood upon His sword— 1 parricide, is fit to exist! I have lived too long already; death cannot now come too soon. Friends,' he proceeded, turning round to the companv, ' leave me to my fate, I am prepared for the worst. Officers of the Inquisition, I am your prisoner; do with me as you will.' He was now seized by the officers and bound; when the demon again addressed him, thus:— ' A't yet resolved ?' • To die,' rejoined Faust. • Wellj since such is your resolution, thou wilt surely at least bid farewell to her who never wronged thee ;— her who doats on thee, and whom thou adorest, but who must now be lost to thee for ever. See, she comes to take a last farewell 1' As the demon spoke, the mysterious female entered the saloon, and beckoned on Faust. At once a complete revolution came over the student. He no longer thought of his father's murder, or the officers of the Inquisition His desire of life returned; and he was again taken pos- session of by the same burning' and uncontrollable passion for the mysterious being that now so urgently called on him to follow. The demon marked with exultation the change; and once more whispered in the ear of Faust. ' It is not too late, I can yet save thee! speak but the word, and thou art free !' ' Be it so,' eagerly replied Faust. ' See, she beckons again ; follow her, and thou art safe. Not one shall have power to harm thee.' With this, Faust rushed out after the mysterious female, followed by the demon. The company attempted to stop him, but were rendered powerless. Their arms became weak and helpless, and their bodies were fined like statues to the floor. Every one present was paralized by some mysterious agency. As soon, however, as Faust was safe outside, their strength and agility were restored them; and now nothing but turmoil and confusion pre vailed. The whole neighbourhood was alarmed. The murder; the strange guest at the banquet; and the mira culous escape, were the only themes of conversation. A pursuit was raised after Fajst; a price set upon his head, and the country scoured in every direction that he might be taken and brought back to justice. CHAPTER VI. THE PURSUIT— THE PUNISHMENT— THE HOUR OF^ OEATH— FEARFUL RETRIBUTION. The same evening all the strange proceedings were going forward, narrated in the previous chapter— found Petreus executing the intention which has been previously intimated. While Hanchen was engaged in some domestic duty arising out of the banquet, she was alarmed by l'etreus rushing into the room she was engaged in, with his hair standing on end, his limbs trembling, and his face depict ing terror and fear in the strongest and most indubitable manner. • O, Hanchen, Hanchen! give me a drink of water or I faint,' exclaimed Petreus, as he rushed forward. ' I have seen the devil, Hanchen! Oh, that cursed book! 1 shall never seek to get rich any more ' ' Why, what's the matter, Petreus?— what have you been doing, that you are so terrified. I never saw you look so wild before! Be quiet, and tell me all about it.' ' Why, you must know,' proceeded Petreus, ' that 1 have been sitting up these two hours reading that pon- derous volume in Faust's study. I was curious to know how Faust had become so rich; and imagined that he got his wealth by some charm in that book; so I resolved to try, to be rich also. Well, I started to read the book, in the best manner I could, though I was unable to un- derstand a word of it. At last, I got into one of the charms or incantations of the book, as I supposed and rightly ; for when I had began it, there was no stopping. I got terrified, and tried two or three times to stay, but in vain; my tongue paid no heed to my fears, but read it would in spite of them. At last, I got to the end, when I heard a loud noise as if the house was tumbling down ; and when I looked up, there was standing before me a huge monster with eyes like two full moons, great horns, and a red hairy body. It was the devil, Hanchen I 1 tried to run, when a hand was laid upon me, and I fell down on the floor. It happened to be against the door leading to the staircase. The door flew open ; down stairs 1 tumbled, head over heels, like a ball descending. By the time I got to the bottom, I had somewhat recovered my scattered senses, though at the expense of a broken head and a bruised body; when up I got, and bounded forth here.' ' Thou hast been dreaming,' remarked Hanchen. ' It is the fumes of the wine that have been playing thee false. I told you they would. You have been asleep, and ima gined, I doubt not, this devil, with long horus and saucer eyes.' ' Aye, but it is too true,' seriously replied Petreus; ' and with your consent, I shall not sleep another night by myself. Let us be wed, Hanchen. The devil, you know, never appears to more than one person at a time. So that if we are always together, both by night and by day, we shall frighten him away altogether. But what noise is that; something wrong is going on. Surely, it is not the devil coming after me. Where shall I hide?" ' Stay your nonsense ; it is something connected with the party up stairs.' ' Surely, the devil has not joined the dance,' proceeded Petreus; ' I shouldn't wonder.' Petreus was stopped short by a number of the guests rushing in, demanding Faust. Petreus and Hanchen could give no information ; they had not seen him; nor as yet were they acquainted with the proceedings at the banquet, which had led to this in- quiry. Having at length learned the facts, Hanchen be- came less sceptical respecting the statements of Petreus; and the latter was now firmly convinced that the whole place was under the influence of the devil. They joined the party in the pursuit of Faust; and every quarter of the building was searched for the parricide, but in va n. Meanwhile, Faust, accompanied by the demon, on leaving the banquet hall, followed the mysterious female in the direction of the churchyard where she had first been seen. Tney entered the precincts of the dead, and pro- ceeded until the female reached the tomb out of which the demon had originally called her, when she disappeared. ' Ha! demon, hast thou deceived me! Where is she gone ' Deceived thee! No! But tliis is not the place to regis- ter lovers' vows; you shall meet her again at the Drach- enfels, where your ardent desires shall be consummated. Your pursuers are on the alert. Let us away to the Drachenfels— to the Dracheufels!' To the Drnche fels they hied. There huge piles of rock, Nature's enduring masonry, rose in fearful majesty over the boiling aud bubbling waters of the Rhine, here nar- rowed by these terrific battlements into half the space required for the due progress of its flowing tide. Vast mountain blocks divested of vegetation, and jutting fear- fully over the rushing waters, rose up many hundred feet above the margin of the river. The eagle was the sole inhabitant of these gigantic precipices, and a few scat- tered pines, like hairs upon the bald head of old age, the only evidence of the vegetable world. It was a scene worthy of the genius of desolation; awful iu solitude— fearful in wildness. A region peopled by the storms. There was but one difficult winding path that led through these gigantic precipices to the bottom of the forge through which the river sped. Down this the demon passed followed by Faust, who made his way with considerable difficulty. Arrived at the noitom of the fearful abyss, Faust looked round, and saw himself encompassed on eveiy side witti immense rocks, shutting out nearly all daylight, and a sense of terror crept over him. At last he brnke silence. Now fulfil your promise! Where is the promised fair one?' ' Ynu shall soon see,' replied the demon; ' she now approaches.' The mysterious female was now teen descending the Datb, and iu a few moments she was by their side. Her face was concealed in a thick veil. Faust was going to embrace her, when he was checked by the demon. ' She is not thine yet. You must do something more to prove yourself worthy of her love' ' Fiend, why tamper with me!' said Faust, angrily. Hive I not done all ?' ' Not yet. That which remains to be done is but a mere trifle. You love her.' ' Most passionately!' exclaimed Faust. ' You would wed her.' ' I would!' ' What pledge canst th> u give of thy affection? Wilt thou swear to love her till death?' I willl Let me but possess her!' As a further proof, wilt thou swear to be even as she is ? To be like to her, and to share the same fate ? If thou lovest so warmly as has been expressed, this cannot be refused.' ' What avails such swearing ?' ' Nay, let us not stop to inquire at trifles. Swear as I have just said, and she is thine at once; refuse, and she is lost to thee' * I swear.' ' That thou shalt be as she is; and share the sams fate,' continued the demon. ' That I shall be as she is, and share her fate. Tnis I swear.' replied Faust. ' Then behold your bride.' AVith this the demon re- moved the veil from the face of the mysterious female, aud the haggard ani shrunken countenance of a corpse was revealed to view. ' O, horrible, horrible 1' shouted Faust. ' Monster! tnou hast deceived me ; grossly deceived me!' ' I did but promise to make her thine, and have I not made good that pledge? How, then, have I deceived thee? Is she not thy bride?' ' I see it all,' wildly exclaimed Faust. ' I have bound myself to the grave— a corpse is to be my bride— the grave my bridal bed.' The earth now opened, and the corpse descended, while Faust gazed on in amazement and horror. He was at last aroused by the demon shouting in a voice like thunder, ' Prepare to follow her!' ' I shall not, demon; nor will I submit further to thy deception.' ' Hast thou not sworn to be as she i?; to take on her nature and become a corpse— an inhabitant of the grave? Retrea', therefore, is impossible; thy oath is irrevocable ! Prepare to follow her!' Faust sunk on the earth in agony and horror at his ap- proaching fate. The demon seized him in his grasp, and bore him aloft. A vast chasm in the rocks was revealed to view, out of which unearthly fires proceeded, aud hor- rible and diabolical figures issued, darkening the air around Into this dread ravine flew Mephistophiles with Faust in his embrace. Fiercer burst forth the flames; more horrible and numerous became the diabolical figures; toads, lizards, and serpents crawled in thousands around the mouth of the pit. The air was filled with horrible and discordant noises, which drowned the dreadful yells and screams of Faust as he descended the infernal aby: s. A few moments, and all was over. The guilty sinner, who had rashly sought counsel of the spirit of darkness, no longer existed among the sons of men. He had paid the terrible penalty of his unhallowed searchings into the dark and inscrutable workings of the spiritual world ; a fearful example to daring spirits, and a warning of the awful consequences which result from misdirected intellect and perverted study. The Fortune Teller, OR THE LOVE. DRAUGHT. A TALE OF THE BARROW- SIDE. Whoever has journeyed along the banks of the river Barrow, in that part of its course which separates the Queen's County from the county of Kildare, must have remarked the remains of Grange- Mellon, the former residence of the St. Ledger family. The long avenue, choked with grass and weeds,— the wooded grounds, stretching along the river's edge,— the dilapidated gate- way and mansion walls,— the loud cawing from the rook- ery — all combined to mark the place as one which ought to furnish some legend of antiquity and romance. Such was surely to be had there for those who would seek it. But Grange- Mellon is only linked to my memory by an humble love story of almost modern date, yet tragical enough, heaven knows, to have had its source in the very oldest days of manic and misery. I can state nothing of the tender dames, or youths of gentle blood, who inhabited the castle before it tumbled quite to decay. The only beings connected with the ex- istence of the place ( and that in the very last stage of its occupation) whom I would at'empt to commemorate, were Lanty the whipper- in, and Biddy Keenahan the dairy- maid Lanty was a kind, frank, honest- hearted lad as ever lived. He was a great favourite with the family and the servants, particularly the females. The whole pack of hounds loved him ; and a cheering word from his voice could keep them together in the thickest cover, even if there were half- a- dozen hares a- foot; when Brian Oge, the veteran huntsman, might tantivy himself hoarse, and only frighten the whelps and vex the old dogs for his pains. Lanty was, indeed, in the words of the ballad, Beloved much by man and baste. But if he was welcomc iu the kitchen and the kennel, as surely he was, how many a thousand times more wel- come was he, wheu he came home from the chase, cheer- ing the tired harriers along, and stopping to say, ' How is it wid you, Biddy ?' or,' What a fine night it is, Biddy!' or some such passing phrase, at the dairy door; where Biddy was sure to be waiting, with a ready answer and a kind look. Ay, welcome indeed was the commonest word which came from Lanty's lips ; and the more so, as not a syllable of a more direct tendency had he ever utteied; although it was plain to every one in the world, that he had been in love with Biddy for full a year and a half. ' Ah, Brine!' said he to the old huntsman, one day when they were returning home after a couple of hard runs, followed by the limping pack, ' Ah Brine I it's no use talking ! It's no nse you see, for I never can bring myself to say the words to her, out and out. I love her little finger betther nor the whole ' varsal world; but, by this Cross- Pathrickl' ( and he put his finger on his whip handle, making a very positive cross] ' its unpossible for me to tell her so.' Brian Oge, who was a regular male match maker, and who thought that ' the b'ys and girls ought to hunt in couples, any how,' was resolved that it should not be his fauit if Biddy Keenahan did not know the true state of the case; or if she did not take proper measures to bring matters to a speedy issue between herself and Lanty. He, therefore ( as he himself expressed it), ' up an'tould her what Linty had said; an' advised her, as the only way of bringin' him to rason, to go straight to Peg Morrin the fortm- teller, at the fut of Migany Bridge, who'd soon give her a charm that'd make Lanty folly her an' spake to the point, as sartin as the rots ( rats) folly'd Terry the rot- catcher ; an' sure enough he could make thim spake too, if he thought it worth his while !' This counsel was too palatable to be rejected by poor Biddy. Her spottesi cotton handkerchief fluttered over her bosom while Brian Oge was giving his advice; and had it been of muslin, the deep glow of delight might have been seen through it. Her face had no covering to conceal its blushes ! a. id her eyes swam in tears. ' Och, then, musha, Brine Oge!' said she, ' it'smjself that's behoulden to you for your good nath'r. Why, then, can it be true what you tell me! Little 1 thought that Lmty cared a thraneen for me, though, in troth, it's my- self that loves the ground he walks on. Why, then, why wouldn't he tell me ? o at oucet? If it wasn't that it wouldn't be becoinin' in a youug girl to spake first, I'd soon tell him what's neither a shame nor a sin, any how But I'll folly your words, Brine Oge: for you'r an ould man, an' a kind one, an' one that knows what's fit for the by's an' the girls, an' that niver stands between thim but to bring them closer to one another; an' here's a noggin of rale crame for you, Briue, jew'l, for its tired you must be, afther the hunt.' While Brian drank off the cream, to which he added something from a leather covered bottle that he had a habit of carrying in his side- pocket, Biddy went on to tell him that she would not lose any time, but would step down that very night as far as Maganyford, and cross over in Tom Fagan the miller's cot, whicn would laud hei at toe very field in which Peg Norriu's cabin stood. Brian, after wiping his lips with the cuff of his faded green hunting frock, gave Biddy a very fatherly kiss : and, wishing that a blessing might be on her path, he left her to make her preparations. When night had fairly set in, that there was little danger of her course being observed, Biddy, having arranged all the affairs of the dairy, put her grey cloak on her shoulders, and drew the hood well over her head. She tied her shoes fast on, as she had a rough path to follow for a couple of miles by the rivet's bank, and pulling her woollen mittens on ber hands and arms, she tlrr V( y slipped out at the back window, made the sign of the cross on her breast, and with a short prayer fervently put up, started on her ex- pedition. She knew her way very well, even had it been pitch dark; but as there was moonlight, and as she stepped buoyantly forward, she reached Tom Fagan's cabin by the river side, without once stumbling, or tripping over stone or bramble. ' God save all here!' said Biddy, as she raised the latch, and entered the cabin, where the miller and his wife were eating their supper by the fire. ' Godsave you, kindly!' replied they; and the next words in both their mouths were expressions of surprise at this late visit from Biddy. ', Why, thin, what's comed over you, Biddy « » « ' « ?' said Molly Fagan. ' Sure, thin, some misfortin it is that brings you to our cabin this time o' night. But it's welcome you are, alanna, any how ; an' the greather your throuble the gladder we are to see you.' ' Thank you, kindly, Molly aithore: but it's no throuble at all; only I'd be after throublin' Tom jist to ferry me a cross the river in the cot, that's all.' ' Wid all the pleasure in life, and heartily welcome, Biddy, my darling,' said Tofti Fagan, a friendly young fellow, who was always ready to do a kind turn, parti- cularly to a pretty girl. But his wife's curiosity was not so easily satisfied. ' Why, thin, the Lord save us, Biddy 1' said she, ' where is it you'd be goin' across the river, into the Queen's County, in the dark night. There's niver a wake nor a weddin' goin' on, nor a dance even, in the three parishes. Where in the world are you goin,' Biddy ?' ' In troth, it's only jist to see j friend, Molly; and Tom'll tell you when he comes back.' Och! is that the way wid you, Biddy ? I see how it is. It's ould Peg you're agoin to; an' all along of Lanty. There's no use in deoyin'it— an mire's the pity, Biddy, agra \ It's t wice you ought to think of what you're about to do ; that's not oncet before an' oncet afther,— but two times both together, Biddy ; for it's a foolish thing, an' one you'll be sorry for, may be. Take my advice' an lia » e nawthin' to do with ould Pegand her grasy pack o' cards. It's bad fortin they'll bring yiju, Biddy, dear, when she's afther tellin' you all that's godd. For your own sake an' poor Lanty's, keep away from her ; an' let thrue love take its own coorse!' This sensible warning had liule effect on Biddy Keena- han. Youth and love were bad subjects to reason with. Backed by Brian Oge's ad+ ice, Biddy was resolved to pursue her adventure. She thought that if Molly Fagan had wanted a husband for herself, she would not have been so averse to a consultation with '• the wise woman.'' But, to satisfy her friend, she put a salvo on her own con- science, and vowed that she ' wouldn't let th' ould pack o' cards be cut or shuffled the night;' for all she wanted was ' a little bit of advice, which no one, barrin' Peg Morrin, could give her.' The moon was smothered in clouds, when Biddy stepped into a little flat bottomed boat, called a cot, and placed herself at one of the pointed ends that might have been called the prow had not the other been quite similar, there being in fact no stern. At this other end, Tom Fagau stood ; and, with a long pole, shoved his fragile canoe a- cross the broad, and at that passage, somewhat rapid stream. The fortune- teller's cabin looked like a black patch on the face of the littlt field, in a corner of which it stood. And, as Biddy threw a fuitive glance at ihe mas- sive bridgeof Magany, with its vaguely defined arches, and thought of the many stones which proclaimed it to be haunied, she involuntarily siuddeied. ' Is it shiverm' you are, Biddy, dear?' slid the com- passionate miller; ' wrap jbur cloak over you, for the night wind creeps up against the sirame, an' stales into one's buzzum, without givin' a word's warnin.' ' It'snot the wind, Tom, agra. It's something that's in- side of the he » rt within me that's tremb. iu'! It's a dreary place you live in, Tom. Plase the Lord I'm doin' the right thing, in goin' to ould Peg!' ' Arrah, niver fear, Biddy! The divil a harm she'll do you. What if she does look on your palm, or cut the cards wid you? Sure, an' it's thrue enough, she told me my fortin afore I married Molly, and every word comed to pass. Don't be turned agin her, by what Molly says. She's a very superstitious woman, Biddy; that's God's thru'. h, an' believes nawthin' but what Father Riee at the Friary tells her. So keep up your heart, like a good girl as you are. Here's the field— an' ther's Peg Morrin's cabin - an' God speed you wid her. I'll wait here till you're ready, an' bring you back all the way home to the Grange. Now, jump over the flagger's— that's it! clivir an' clane— away wid you!' And away tripped Biddy, with a beating heart, though greatly reassured by Tom Fagan's cheering words. She kept her eye on the cabin before her, and neither looked to the right nor the left; for she was in the very field where young William Barrington had been recently killed by Gilespie, in a duel rarely paralleled for ferocity ; and there was not a man nor woman, on either side of the river, that could walk fearlessly through that field of a dark night, much less live in it, except Peg Morrin. But it was well known that she carried a protecti> n about her from all supernatural ills ; and well might she walk or sleep, without fear of hurt or harm. ' The Lord save us!' exclaimed Biddy, with a sup- pressed scream, crossing herself, and clasping her hands together, as a rustling in the large alder bush close to the cabin was followed by a whine; while a pair of fiery eyes seemed to fix themselves on the terrified girl. It was only old Peg's black cat, as Biddy was in a moment con- vinced. In another, she was close to, and tapping gently at— the door. • Come in, Biddy Keenahan ; rise the latch, an' niver mind blessin' or crossin' when you step over the thrash- hold !' muttered the voice of the old hag inside. Biddy started back at hearing her own name thus pronounced ; but she raised the latch and stepped in, being glad of any refuge from the darkness; and she took care not to say ' God save you I' Just as she entered, she received a sharp blow, from some hard but feathery substance above the door. She was afraid to say ' Lord bless us!' but she stooped low, and looked up sideways, and saw a large owl flapping his wing at her, from a nook over the en- trance. CTo be concluded in our next. J THE STORY OF MORGAN JONES AND THE DEVIL. Some twenty years ago, when in retired parts of the country the communication between one place and another was much slower and less frequent than it is now, there was a great deal of horse stealing carried on in the Eng- lish counties on the borders of Wales. These counties were and are very full of pretty little towns and villages; in one or other of which there were fairs for the sale of live stock almost every day of the year, and it was easy to steal a horse from one parish, and carry it away and sell it at some one of these fairs, almost before the rightful owner knew that he had lost it. Well, it so bappeued that about this time lived a lazy, careless, rollicking sort of a fellow, by name, Morgan Jones, who contrived to make a living somehow or other, but how it was nobody well knew, though most people suspected that it was not the most honest livelihood a person might gain. In fact, every body was sure that Morgan was deeply implicated in horse- stealing, and many a time had he been brought be'ore justice on suspicion, but do what they could, nobody could find sufficient evidence to convict him. People wondertd and talked about it for a long time, until, at last, they came to the only natural conclusion— namely, that Morgan Jones must have dealings with the evil one. Now it once chanced, that Morgan and some of his chosen crouies, were making themselves jolly over sundry pots of ale and pipes of tobacco, at a round white, deal, table, iu the cleau parlour of a very neat little ale- house, as all village ale- houses are in that part of the country. And they began to get very happy and comfortable to- gether, and were telling one another their adventures, till at last one spoke plainly out, and told Morgan Jones that it was commonly reported he had to do with the devil. " Why, yes,'' answered Morgan, " there's some truth in that same, sure enough; I used to meet with him now and then, but we fell out, and 1 have not seen him these two months." " Ay I" exclaimed each of the party, " how's that Mor- gan ? " " Why, then, be quiet, and I'll tell you it all." And thereupon Morgan emptied his pot, and had it filled again, and took a puff of his pipe, and began his story :— " Well, then," says he, " you must know that I had not seen his honour for a long time, and it was about two months ago Irom this that I went one evening along the brook shooting wild- fowl, and as I was going whistling along, whom should I spy coming up but the devil him- self? But you must know he was dressed mighty fine, like any grand gentleman, though I knew the old one well by the bit of his tail which hung out at the bottom of his trousers. Well, he came up, and says he, ' Morgan, how are you?' and, says I, touching my hat, ' pretty well, your honour, I thank you.' And then, says he,' Morgan, what are you looking a'ter, and what's that long thing ye're currying with you ?' And, says I, ' I'm only walk- ing nut by the brook this fine evening, and carrying my backy- pipe with me to smoke.' Well, you all know the old fellow is mighty fond of the backy ; so, says he, ' Morgan, let's have a smoke, and I'll thank ye.' And, says I,' you're mighty welcome.' So I gave him the gun, and he put the muzzle in his mouth to smoke, and thinks I, ' I have you now old boy,' ' cause you see I wanted to quarrel with him; so I pulled the trigger, and off went the gun bang in his mouth. ' Puff!' says he, when he pulled it out of his mouth, and he stopped a minute to think about it, and, says he, ' D— d strong backy, Mor- gan !" then he gave me the gun, and looked huffed, and walked off, and sure enough I've never seen him since. And that's the way I got shut of the old gentleman, my boys!'" Such is the ludicrous story of Morgan Jones, who had to do with a proper Welsh devil, without doubt.— From the Foreign Quarterly Review. THE PREJUDrCED.— The prejudiced are apt to converse but with one sort of men, to read but one sort of books, to come in hearing but of one sort of notions; the truth is, they canton out to themselves a little Goshen in the intel- lectual world, where light shines, and as they conclude, day blesses them: but the rest of the vast expanaum they give up to night and darkness, and so avoid coming near it. They confine themselves to some little creek, not venturing out into the great ocean of knowledge, to sur- vey the riches that nature has stored other parts with, no less genuine, no less solid, no less useful, than what is to be found within their own little spot.— Barrow. NEW MUSIC. TO PIANO- FORTE PLAYERS AND SINGERS. THE PIANISTAis published Monthly, at the price of One Shilling per number, for the express pur- pose of giving to the public, for one- sixth, and in many instances for one. tenth, of the music seller's charges, jJl those beautiful Songs, Quadrilles, Waltzes Overtures, and Pieces, which by their excellence have become popular in London. The most eminent poets and musicians of the day are also engaged in writing Ori- ginal Pieces and Songs Jfor the work, amongst whom the publie will recognise as high favourites — Thomas Moore, Esq., Miss Costello, Laman Blauchard, Esq., Barry Cornwall, John Barnett, Charles Horn, Henry Russell, Thomas Cooke. Esq. ( musical di- rector to Drury Lane Theatre), and Douglas Jerrold, Esq. As a specimen of the ba< k uumbers, the follow ing for the present year are submitted. Each number Is., or by post Is. 4d. 13. For January, 1842, contains six airs from Norma; two new songs; Maide. i, arise! serenade, by Laraan Blanchard, Esq., and, I Weep for Thee. ( This number is a very popular one.) Double Supplement to No. 13, containing the whole of the Overture and line Introduction to Norma, anil three Songs and Duets in Norma. ( Five editions have been sold of this double supplement.) 14. For February, contains new song, I saw her dance, words by Laman Blanchard, Esq., music by Baraett; the Royal Christening Quadrilles; and a March. 15. For March, contains the Acis and Galatea Quadrilles; Sony sung by Miss Romer, As when the Dove, in Acis and Gala' tea; the Royal Cradle Sous, and a March. ( This numbe. gives the words, gratis, of tne whole opera of Acis and Ga- 16. Good night, love, good night,— the popular and copyright song, the words by Douglas Jerrold, Esq., the music by Thomas Cooke, Esq, sung in Mr. Jeirold's new play, The Prisoner of War. The celebrated Sonnambula Waltzes, and a March. 17. This number contains three copyright songs, and are all becoming popular; namely, one, by B « ry Cornwall, entitled Love me if I live ; one entitled The Butterfly ; and the other sung by Madame Vestris in the Easter piece, the White Cat, and entitled the Gypsy or Pic nic Sonn. This number ( 17) likewise'eantatns a beautiful set of Waltzes and a March. 18. For June, contains the Bal Masque music as danced at Her Maj. sty's erand Ball— namely the Hero of Cressy Quadrilles, and the Queen Philippa Waltzes ( both perfect sets) ; new sang by Laman Blanchard. Esq , 1 mav not believe her. and a March. This music would cost lis. 6d. at a music- seller's. 19. For July, contains God save the Queen, with Beethoven's very beautiful variations. No. 19 also eontains a new song entitled The Spirit of Beauty ; and a complete set of Waltzes by Strauss. For August eontains ROSSINI'S STSBAT MATBR I'.! the creat- est musical novelty for the last ten years. Tl. is is given in a double number for 2s.. post price, 2s. 6d. All other Editions of the Stabat Mater are 12s to 14s. No. 21. for September, contains the vocal edition of Rossini's 20. Staba' Mater, with the original Latin words, and fi r the first time) with English wordsadded. Price 2s. Iwhich comp- isesall the sones and Duo). By post free 2s. 6d. No. 20 of the Pianista is for Piano Solo. No- 22 contains- Beethoven's five Variations and Coda to ' Rule Britannia;' anew song entited ' The Skylark ;' and Labitsky's most popular set of five Waltzes. The whole for One Shilling; by post, One Shilling and Fourpeilce. Any number of the pianista can be had for Is., or the whole of them Twhich contains nearly nine pounds' worth of music] can be sent post free to any part of the kingdom for Is. 4d. per numbers and when six are taken, for Is. 3d. per number. The enclosure of stamps to the value is solicited, as being less troublesome than sending cash, and more safe. The address is, Editor of ; Pianista, • 23, Paternoster Row, London. The Pianista is a charming work and as cheap as it is charming* THE TIMES. we have been a subscriber from the first to the last number of this talented work, and we can truly say. that no piano- forte player or singer ought to be without it.— WBBiLV CHEOWIOLK. MELODIES FOR THE MILLION. THE MUSICAL BEE, NO. 3, contains the following sixteen beautiful tunes for FOUR PENCE! which is just one farthing each, the chief of which are copyright. 34. Punch's Hornpipe!! ( copy- right) 35. The Wave ( copyright! Woodman spare that tree Aurora Waltz 41. My beautiful Rhine 42. By dimpled Brook 43. Chorus from " Le pre » " 44. All things love thee 45. Chorus Semiramide 46. Fortnna Galop 47. Old English Gentleman 48. Danois Quadrille 49. Finale to fie " Barber." TRUE NATIONAL SPIRIT. TESTIMONY OT AN ENLIGHT- ENED FRENCHMAN TO THE MERITS OF ENGLAND AND GER- MANY.—- The true greatness of a people does not consist in borrowiug nothing from others, but in borrowing from all whatever is good, and in " perfecting whatever it appro- priates. I am as great an enemy as any one to artificial imitations; but it is mere pusillanimity to reject a thing for no other reason than that it has been thought good by others. With the promptitude and justness of the French understanding, and the indestructible unity of our national character, we may assimilate all that is good in other countries without fear of ceasing to be ourselves. Placed ill the centre of Europe, possessing every variety of cli. mate, bordering on all civilized nations, and holding per- petual intercourse with them, France is essentially cosmo- politan ; and indeed this is the main source of her great influence. Besides, civilized Europe now forms but one great family. We constantly imitate England in all that concerns outward life, the mechanical arts, and physical refine 1 eats; why, then, should we blush to borrow sone- thing from kind, honest, pi » us, learned Germany, in what regards inward life and the nurture of the soul?— Victor Cousin's Report on the State of Public Instruction in Prussia. A MODERATE FOOD. - HOW hard is the case of the poor foreigner amoug us, who often with a sentiment on his lips that elicits our applause, draws down our laughter, perhaps in spite of us, by an unconscious violatian of the king's English. The French and Italians are ceitainly more amiable ihin we are in this respect; they can listen with an imperturbable thoughtfuluess of allowance; but we appeal to the candid reader, whether the following would not have been irresistible with most of us. An English- man talking with a German friend, a man of a remarkable philosophical cast of mind, and fond of clothing his senti- ments iu the graces of classical allusion, the discourse happened to turn upon the mortifications to which those sui ject themselves who seek after the vanities of this world. Our friend was for stoical independence, and had Diogenes in his eye. " For mine self," he exclaimed with lising enthusiasm, " I should be quite contentment for to live all my days in a dub, eating no- ting else but unicorns I" ( acorns) jj 37 38. Is she not passing fair ( co- pyright) 39. March Pomposo 4i). O 1 the hanks of Allan Water *.* Nos. I and 2 of the " Bee" contain Thirty- three Airs, amongst which are * The Light of other days," " Jem along Joscy," " Goodnight," & c. & c. & c. The whole of the above for 4d , or sert post free to any part of the kingdom by enclosing 6d., or the value in stamps, to the Edi- tor, 23, Paternoster Row. Hawkers would find this a very desi- rable work. A liberal discount. All the tunes in The Musical Bee can be played by Flute, " Violin, Cornopeon, or any other in- strument. Published Monthly by Messrs. Sherwood and Co., 23, Pater- noster Row, Loudon ; Gange, 19, Poultry ; and Templeman, 248, Regent Street. ALL DEPENDS ON THE STOMACH. TN a paper read by Sir Henry Marsh, Bart,, at the last e- union of the King and Queen's College of Physicians, Dublin, he states the brain sympathises with remote parts, and with the digestive organ) in particular, and we feel to what ex- tent our reasoning powers and memory are influenced by the state of the stomach, and attributes the disasters of Napoleon im- mediately antecedent to the battle of Leipsie. and the loss of that battle, in a great degree, to a mess of greasy soup eaten by him a few days before the battle, whioh produced a great derangement of the stomach. For all disorders of the stomach. STIRLING'S PILLS are particularly adapted, being prepared with the sulphate of quinine, extract of camomile flowers, and the most choice stomachic and aperient drugs of the Materia Medica. These Pills were patronized by the late SirW. B.' izard and many other emi- nent medical men, who knew their composition, and strongly re- commended them, not only for their general efficacy in cases of sudden illness, but likewise for their invaluable properties in all stomach and liver complaints, and for peisons of a plethoric habit subject to drowsiness, dimness of sight, loss of memory, giddiness* Sc. ; and as a preventative of apoplexy, paralysis. & c. Children and persons of all ages may take them at any time, as they do not contain mercury, nor any ingredient that requires confinement, or restriction of diet. Many healthy aged individuals, some o't them upwards of70 and 8n years of age, take them two or three times a week, by which they remove the causes that produce disease, and keep off the infirmities of age, retaining, in a sur- prising degree, the energy, vivacity, aud cheerfulness of their i outhful days Prepared only by Stirling, Pharmaceutical Chemist, 86, Whitechapel. Sold in boxesat 131d., 2s. 9d., 4s 6d . and lis. each. Ask for Stirling's Stomach Pills, aud be sure the name is engraved on the stamp. HEALTH, STRENGTH, AND LIBERTY. OLD MAINWARING says " Health is that which makes your meat and drink savoury and pleasant: wbicli makes your b- d easy and your sleep refreshing ; which dresseth you up in Nature's richest attire, and adorns your face with her choicest colours; which nukes exercist a spurt, and walkin" abroad the enjoyment of liberty ; which makes the mind fertile" the wit acute, and the memory retentive. But view yourself when it deserts your company ; sleep is broken into pieces; the night which seemed short becomes long, and the bed presseth against the bones ; exercis.'-.- iis then toil, and walking abroad the carrying of aburthen; eating and drinking a hard task aud slavish custom. YOU THAT KAVK HEALTH, MBAD McDOUALL'S MEDICAL TREATISE, AND TRY TO PBBSSRVB IT. TOO THAT HAVE LOST IT, PURCHASE McDOUALL'S FLORIDA MEDICINE, AND TRY TO REGAIN IT. It is sold in boxes at Is. lid at 1, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street London, and by numerous agents throughout the kingdom. VOLUNTARY TESTIMONIALS. Mrs. FORD, 23. High Row, Knightsbridge, London, slates that she has been afflicted, during 12 months, with Nervous Debility Her insi e, she describes, has been in a continued violent trt m bting, accompanied with a dreadful pain between the shoulders and a troublesome cough, which prevented her gainin- repose night or day. A disagreeable phlegm ran from the mouth and her general health was in a deplorable condition. Sne ' read McDoualts Medical Tract, and determined to try the Florida Medicine. She purchased une box, and when she had taken half a dozen pills, she experienced great benefit ; she hu not taken more than 16 pills, and is now in the enjoyment of perfect and continued health. She is quite willing at anv time to confirm he above to any one who will call upon her at her residence. John Verity, 3, Market Street, Newport Market, London states — that he is 74 y ears of age, and has been afllicted with a complaint in the kidneys, which caused excruciating pain, and great debility from loss of blood, and other symptoms whii- h need not be pub lished. He had been advised to try McD. mall's Florida Medicine" and bad not taken many doses before he experienced grateful relief. He has not taken the whole of his brat box of pills and yet he declares that he never was in belter health in his life'. Mr. Verity requeued a lady residing in the same house [ who desires the name notto be printed but referred to], afflu led with bilious attacks and indigeslion, to use ihe Florida Medicine which she did, and now feels perfectly free from all the symptoms of her tbtesome complaints. CLEAVE'S GAZETTE OF VARIETY. Poets' Corner. ANNA BELL. A TALE. Poor Anna Bell! Hear you that sound that floats along the seas, And mingles with the murmur of the breeze ? It is her knell- Sit down by me upon the mossy seat, And listen whilst her story I repeat. Once she was fair, Aye, fair as you, with eyes that sparkled bright, A graceful form, and steps that bounded ligat; Dark glossy hair la silken tiuglets played upon her brow; Bright eyes, fair face, alas! what are they now ? Beauty mast die— And she was beautiful, but proud as fair, flattery l » er food, and conquest her chief care; A lover's sigh Swelled her ynung heart; and many lovers sigh'd, But Anna Bell repaid their love with pride. Among the train Was one who loved her wfU; a noble youth, Worthy a maiden's love— he loved with truth. But loved in vain ; For her the choicest fruit, the fairest flower. He cull'd, to please her taste, to adorn her bower. Her heart was moved, But yet his care and tenderness she slighted ; And he who fancied all his fond hopes blighted By her he loved, Left his dear kindred and his happy home, With other friends in other climes to roam. Silent she stood. And heard him say farewell— but not a sigh Escaped her lips, no tear bedewed her eye ; It is not good That vanity should play so base a part. And shroud each gen'rous feeling in the heart. Months passed away, But this fair girl no longer joined the dance, Or graced each sport with her bewitching glancc, Day after day She seemed to droop, until you scarce could tell The once enchanting form of Anna Bell. Homeward he camc; The youth now gro » n a man, with knowledge stored, Aad with him brought a wife to grace his board, And bear his name; To take a part in all his hopes and fears, And be the solace of his future years. When Anna Bell Was told of his return, she smiled;— a smile,' To look upon, would make you weep the while! And that deep knell With mournful sound proclaims her death I— sad token 1 The heart that ne'er would bend, alas! is broken. Plymouth, August 20th 1842. JOHN COLLKY. alteration in his conduct and manners, as well as health, was a bitter disappointment to those Cirdinals who, to serve their own purposes, had assisted in the elevation of Montalto, who now assumed the name of Pope Sixtus the Fifth. It was not merely his refusing them the least share or appearance of authority ; it was not only the loss of patro- nage and influence they hid to lament; but the mortifica- tion of being over reached and defeated by the old nun did not quit the apartment till ha saw the Spaniard brough forth and suspended; he then retired from the window and went to dinner, repeating with a loud voice a favourite pissafee from the Psal ms:—' / shall soon destroy all the ungodly in the land, and ' 0) 1 out evil- doers from the citu of the Lord." Such was the conductof the little peasant of the Ancona when elevated to supreme power. He became a rigid but im- partial censor of public defaulters and private transgressors. who for more than fourteen years had been the object of \ He ordered the public functionaries throughout his domin- their ridicule and contempt; he had met them on their own ground, and conquered them with their own weapons. ions to send him, eicli of them, a list of every person in the neighbourhood who was notorious for debauchery, If at any time they hesitated in concurring with the vi- i drunkenness, or other vicious habits ; first, inquiring into firniif ari A ualntarv mnacurpj af Viic nnirnrnmont anrl « •!,.. „ c ;„ f,„ t_ _ _. _ j. e. .. . i • . I SONG:— THE SPIRIT OF BEAUTY. ( The following beautiful Song is set to music in No. 19, of rht Pianistu; with piano- forte accompaniment.) I have been to the woods, 1 have trod the green dell, And the spirit of beauty was there; I saw her fair form in the snowdrop's white bell; I heard her soft voice in the air ; Wherever I rov'd, over vale, wood, or hill, The spirit of beauty vrouU follow me still. She danced in the aspen, she sighed in the gale. She wept in the shower, ( he blusbed in the vale, Her mantle was thrown o'er the misty brake, Her splendour shone on the sparkling lake; Wherever I rov'd, over vale wood, or bill. The spirit of beauty would follow me still. Not the buz of an insect, or carol of bird, Not an echo or sound in the valley was heard, Not a violet opened its leaves of blue, Not a plant, nor flower, in the valley grew, Not an ivy caressing the rock, or the wall, But the spirit of beauty was over them all. THE THREE SLEEPERS. 1 ( From Tail's Magazine. J Saw ye the rose in its beauty born With leaves as bright as the orient morn ? How it open'd its breast to the west wind's play, Thenshut it again at the close of day, To dream, perchance of bliss Then pass'd a spirit upon the breeze Sweet as the gale that ripples the seas— Ye may read by the blush on the rose's face That it lies in that spirit's close embrace ;— Know ye that spirit's name It is not of earth— it comes from heaven ; And to it by mortals no name is given 1 Yet it bath a brother, of this world sprung For ever fair and for ever young— And bis name, I trow, is Hope, But by there came another sprite And itlapp'd them both in its arms one night Upon them it fell like a gentle shade, Flitting across the moonlight glade— That spirit's name is Death And the rose, I deem, was a sprite itself— A light- heart, gladsome, joy- wing'd elf; Than the others more bright, and far more fair Can the fancy's eye not distinguish there The image of fairy Love. In the lonely glen, where no sound is heard, Save the shrill, sweet lay of the singing bird— And wild flowers scent the air with their breath These sleepers three— Love, Hope, and Death, Recline in each other's arms. A. Romance of Real Life. THE PKASAMT BOV THAT BECAME A POPE. ( Concluded.) The moment was chosen, Montalto threw away the staff on which he had hitherto supported himself, th « u sud- denly raised his head, and expanded his chest, he surprised everyone present by approaching at least a foot taller. Coming forward with a firm step, an erect and dignified air, he thanked them for the high honour they had con- ferred upon him, the duties of which, with God's good grace, he would to the utmost of his power conscientiously perform. As he passed from the conclave, the people exclaimed ' Long live the Pope— Plenty, Holy Father, Plenty— Jus- tice and large loaves.' ' Pray to God for Plenty, and I will give you Justice,' was his answer. Impatient to exercise the rights of sovereignty, he or- dered his triple crown to be immediately proiuwd, and placed it on a velvet cushion in the room where he sat; he was also desirous of being immediately crowned and en- throned ; but being informed that his authority and pre- rogatives were in every respect as firmly established and as extensive before as after the ceremony of coronation, he reluctantly consented to a short delay, for the necessary preparations. The humility and complaisance he had for so many years assumed, immediately vanished ; those predominat- ing passions, which had been suppressed by interested views and political dissimulation, regained their ascen- dancy, and burst forth with augmented fury. So great an gorous and salutary measures of his government, and ventured to expostulate and represent the inconsistency of his former conduct and professions, he instantly si- lenced them, and observed: ' That feeling himself much improved in health and spirits, he was able, by God's as- sistance, and would endeavour to govern the Church without their help or advice; that he was their sovereign, and would be obeyed.' The day before his coronation, the governor of Rome and the keeper of the castle of St. Angelo waited on Six- tus to inform him that it had been the custom for every new Pope to grant an universal jail delivery, nnd a free pardon to all otteuders; they wished to know his pleasure. He eagerly asked for a list of the malefactors in custody ; they gave him a paper filled with names, ai, on these oc- casions, expecting what would take place, the prisons were crowded with a number of miscreants, who, 1u cou- sequence of murder, robbery, and other crimes, had the word of the law hanging over their heads. By surrendering themselves, they all hoped and ex- pected, according to long established- custom, to procure indemnity for putt offences, and security, on being re- leased, for persevering in their criminal courses. ' Mercy on us!' exclaimed his Holiness, 1 what a nest n' villains have we here! but are you not aware, Mr. G • vernor, and you, Mr. Jailer, of the glaring impropriety of your conduct in pretending to talk of pudon ami acts of grace ; leave such matters to your sovereign. Depending on your never repeating this impertinent interference with my powers and prerogatives, I, for once, will paidon it; but instantly go back to your charge and see that good care be taken nf those you have in prison, for, as 1 hold my trust from God, if one « f your prisoners escape, I will ' ang you on the highest gibbet I can procure. 1 It was not to protect delinquents, and encourage sin- ners that Divine Providence placed me in the chair of St. Peter; to pardon men notoriously knd fl igrantly wicked, who glory in their crimes and only wait for liberty ihat they miy agtin practice their enormities, would be to share their guilt. I see you have four criminals under sentence of death for abominable crimes, aud in whose favour I have applica tionsand petitions from all quarters; their friends, 1 have no doubt, think they are doing right, but I must not for- get my duty. ' It is therefore my pleasure,' continued Sixtus in an ele- vated tone, and with a severe look,' it is my will and plea- sure that to- morrow, at the hour of my corouati. n, two of them suffer by the axe, and two of them by the hiiter, in different quarters of the city; we shall then do an act of justice pleasing to the Almighty, end take off many of those idle and disorderly people who, at public ceremonies, generally occasion so much riot and coniusion.' His orders on this occasion weie literally obeyed. The day after the ceremony, many of the nobility and gentry waited on the Pope to congratulate him, but lit Slid, ' his was a post of toil and duty— that he had no time for compliments,' and with these words he was on the point of retiring, but the master of the ceremonies informed him that a crowd of cardinals, nob'es, ambassadors, sena- tors, and wealthy citizens demanded an audience. Tiie greater part of them having relations, friends, or dependents, who, in consequence of their crimes, had fled from justice and joined a banditti, but had lately surren- dered themselves on the protpect and probability of a general and universal liberation; their expectations in this respect were disappoii t; d as the Pope had positively declared that not a single offender should te pardoned. The deputation represented to Sixtus in strong language the indecency of so sanguinary a proceeding, at a season which had been generally devoted to mirth and rejoicing, and were proceeding with further arguments in the hope of prevailing on him to retract his resolution. But the person they addressed could restraiu himself no longer; commanding silence on pain of his displeasure, he thus addressed them with angry looks and in a hud voice: * I am surprised at the insolence of your representations, and your apparent ignorance of theoi- edience which ought, in all caseB, to be paid to the orders of the sovereign prince. When the government of our holy Church was committed to Saint Peter by Christ, it surely was not his design that the succe- sors of the holy apostle should be tutored and di- rected by their subjects. ' But if you do not, or will not do your duty, I am re- solved to practise mine ; I hope and trust I shall uot, like my predecessors, suffer law and justice to sleep; by which m; ans the ecclesiastical states have been rendered, and are notoriously become, the most debauched, and, in every re- spect, the wickedest spot en the surft. ee of the globe— a bye- word to the scorner and the heretic— a reproach- to the faith we profess. ' Retire ( raising his arm and voice as he repeated the word, seeing the cardinals did not appear to move),— r . tire, and instead of wishing to obstruct law and justice, endeavour to co- operate with me in cleaning this filthy Augean stable ; for, as to the criminals in question, no mo- tive of any kind shall ever induce me to pardon one of them; each offender shall undergo, without fear, favour, partiality, or resentment, the punishment attached by law to the crime he has committed, and I shall make strict in- quiry after all those who have patronised aud eucouraged them, whom I cannot but consider as participators in their guilt, and will also punish. The different prisoners suf- fered the sentence of the law. They departed in silent dismay; and a few months after, as his Holiness was re- pairing to St. Peter's on the day of ajpublic festival, a crowd, as was customary, assembled to see him pass; the people on this occasion « as so numerous, and pressed s i closely, that the Swiss guards, who always attend the Pope, were under the necessity of making way with their halbeits. Among the multitude, there happened unfortunately to be the son of a Spanish Grandee, who having arrived only that morning at Rome, had not time nor opportunity to secure au unmolested spot for viewing the procession. This gentleman, standing foremost, was pushed back somewhat rudely. The enraged Spaniard, followed the poor Swiss into church, murdered him as he fell on his knees j at the foot of the altar, and endeavoured lo fly for refuge to the house of the Spanish Ambassador ; he was pursued by two comrades of the deceased, and taken into custody. Intelligence of this barbarous and sacrilegious act quickly reached tlie ears of Sixtus. After the service of the day was concluded, the Governor of Rome also waited on his Holiness, as he was going to his coach, to know his pleasure, and wait for instructions how to proceed. ' Well, sir,' said Sixtus, ' and what do you think ough to be done in the « se of flagrant murder, thus committed before my face, and in the house of God ?' ' I have given ordeis,' said the officer,' for informations being taken, and a process bein g commenced.' ' A process!' replied the l'ope; ' what occasion can there be for processes in a crime like this, committed before hundreds of witnesses?' ' Ithought your Holiness would choose to observe due form of law,' answered the Governor; ' particularly in this instance, as tbe criminal is the only son of a person of consideration, in high favour with his Catholic Majesty, and under the protection of his Ambassador.' ' Say not a word to me of consideration and protection. Crime levels every distinction; his rank and education should have taught him better. It is our pleasure that he shall be hanged before we sit down to dinner.' The trial of the prisoner being soon gone through, and a gallows erected in the interval, on a spot where tbe Pepe could see it from the saloon in which fie was sitting, he the truth of their informition, he sent for aud privately i reproved them ; but if this warning was not attended to, j he severely punished the otfeuder. Hiving deeply im- pressed a conviction of his inexorable regard to justice, persons exercising authority under him performed the du- ties with scrupulous exactness. The various remarkable instances in which this extraor- dinary man exerted his powers in suppressing vicious enormity, would, if introduced in this place, extend our present article to a length inconsistent with the nature of this oublicition. With respcct to women, a violation of their chastity, by force or by fraud, with or against their consent, he never pardoned; and even a [ slight deviation from public de- corum did not go unpunished; a subsequent marriage, on either of these occasions, he did not consider as a satisfac- tion to justice. This delicacy so scrupulously severe, he carried to ex- cess in many instances, inconsistent with human infirmity, or the wishes and often the happiness of the injured wo- men, who in several instances hid tUeir luisbinds torn from their embraces and committed to the gallies for follies and indiscretions onimitted before marriage. In the furi- ous licentiousness of stimulating passion. He determined to put a stop to a depraved custom then generally prevalent in his dominions among the elevated and wealthy class of society, that of mairying a mistress to a dependent, for the purpose of procuring an ostensible parent for their illegitimate offspring, aud carrying on se curely an adulterous intercourse. The first example of this kind was that of a person from whom his Holiness had experienced many acts of kindness, before he was created a Cardinal. After a momentary struggle he sent for' his former friend privately, and warmly censuring him for his conduct, he warned him of th£ consequence ot persevering in the unlawful connexion ; and assured him that his duty as a magistrate was para mount to his feelings as a friend, and advised him either to remove the female, or to quit his dominions. A few months after, Sixtus ordered secret spies to watch the parties, and finding that the person he had reproved still continued the criminal attachment, probably presuming on the indulgence of former friendship, he ordered the offend- ers, the huibind and wife, to. be hanged without delay; three domestics, acquainted with the illicit proceeding, he or- dered to be publicly whipped, for not giving informitiou. It had been usual for the people t> exclaim '- Long live the Pope" whenever he passed, but fiuding that this mode of acclamation prevented his dropoing in unexpectedly at the courts of justice and public offices, he forbad the cus- torn; on two unlucky rogues, who. from obstinacy or in- ai'vertancy, disobeyed tli's injunction, he ordered the strapaudo to be inflicted on the spot; this effectually pre- vented a repetition. Assassinations and duels hid disgraced tbe re'gns of all his predecessors, and rendered Rome, and Italy unsafe. To arrest, and, if possible, remove an evil productive of public danger, and private distress, he published an edict, forbidding, on pain of death, any persons, whatever their rank, drawing a sword or even having in their possession any instrument of death as they passed the striets, except his own magistrates and officers. ] Bystanders who did not prevent, and seconds who encouraged duelling, he instantly sent to tbe gallies. A few instances of rigid severity effectually removed the grievance. Anything like revenge or bearing malice he would n > t endure. A barber quarrelling with one of his neighbours, held up liis hand in a threatening manner, and, with a significant motion of his head, had been heard to say, " It ever he comes under my hands I will do his business." This being repeated to the Pontiff, he ordered the speaker of the obnoxious words lo be taken into custody, then di- recting all the barbers in Rome to be collected iu one ef the squares, the offender underwent a long and severe whippine before them. His Holiness observing that tradesmen suffered seriously and often became bankrupts, in consequence of long credit and bid pay, to the great injury of commerce, and fre- quently of the public revenue, he quickly produced an important reformation on a point which loudly calls for amendment in Great Britain and Ireland. A hiut to his officers that he wished to collect inform- ation on the subject was sufficient. A tradesman, in all probabi ity previously instructed, made complaint, that having applied to a person of distinction for payment of a debt which had been long due, and of which he stood in urgent need, the debtor had violently resented it, with- drawn his own custom from the poor man's shop, and persuaded many others to do'tlie like, telling the person he had injured, in an insolent manner, " That gentlemen paid their debts only when they pleased." Sixtus sent for both putts, ordered the money to be instantly paid, with interst from the time of its being due, and committed the fraudulent debtor to prison. At the sauie time a proclamation was issued, directing all the merchants and trad « smen to send his Holiness a list of their book debts, with the names of those from whom the money was due; he d'rectiy paid the whole, Scots, an event which produced a strong and universal sensation through Europe, has, iu modern times, excited a Ions; and animated contrnvenay. Various have been the opinions on the justice of Elizabeth's proceedings. As weak states, in a contest of a more important kind, find it necessary sometimes to cill in the aid of powerful allies, I may be permitted to observe that the Pontiff Six- tus was often heard to say, ' Had I been King of England, I would have acted precisely in the same manner.' When he was first informed that the unfortunate Mary was beheaded, he rose suddenly from his seat and traversed the apartment in much apparent agitation, but not tbe agitation of reeret, for, throwing himself into a chair, he exclaimed, ' O happy Queen of Englaud '. how much art thou to be envied, who hast been found worthy of seeing a crowned head prostrate at thy feet!' These words were evidently spoken with reference to Philip, King of Spain, whose name was never mentioned iu his presence without producing angry looks. Sixtus could never submit with patience to a ceremony annually performed by the Spanish Ambassador; this was the presenting a Gen't to bis Holiness by way of acknow- ledgment that his master held the kingdom of Naples of tbe Pops. On one of these occasions rising hastily from his throne, he said in a loud voice, to Count Olivarezt, ' Our prede- cessors must certainly bave been in a very complaisant mood, when they agreed to accept from your master's an- cestors a poor pitiful hack, in return for a rich and flourish- ing kingdom. I hope soon to put an end to this mummery, and to visit the kingdom of Naples as its lawful sovereign.' But circumstance and situation were not favourable to his executing this purpose, which was the fond wish of his heart. Such was Sixtus the Fifth, who directed the officers of his palace to give audience on every occasion to the poorest man in his dominions ; who listened with conde- scension to the unfortunate, the widow and the orphan ; but punished with inexorable severity criminal delin- quency, respecting neither person, rank, nor wealth : who was moderate in his enjoyments, of pure morals, and correct in private life. Tne revenues of the state, almost annihilated by the rapacious anticipation of bis predeces- sors, be restored to more than double tbeir former nomiuil amount. Iu the public treasury, which was exhausted at the time of his election, his successor found five millions in gold; his personal expenses were trifling, hut his private charities amounted every year to a considerable sum: on these occasions he sought for and generally found pitient, meek, and assuming merit struggling with ad. versity; the perverse and importunate mendicant who begged by day aud thieved at night, he orderered out o' tbe city with reproof and frequently with stripes; so salu- tary were his edicts, and so undeviating and rigid the impartiality with which he enforced them, that his judges and police officers confessed that their places were become sinecurcs. Such was Sixtus the Fifth, who, if the qualities we describe are the first and most indispensible duties of a monarch, deserves to be classed with the first and most glorious of Ijings, and to be numbered with the grea'. tsl benefactors of mankind. He was deficient it must be confessed in the mild acts of gentle persuasion : he was a stranger to the suaoiier in viodo ; but to such a pitch was the wickedness and enor- mity of his subjects carried, that a governor of a mild character would have been disobeyed and despised. But he possessed a qualification more essential and exactly oal cula'ed for the times iu which he lived, they'orfiter in < e ; au eagle- eyed acuteness to search after and to see crimi- nality and fraud, however concealed or disguised, to- gether with unstinting energy, and an unconquerable re- solution to resist aud punish them. nlHE PEOPI E'S F. DITION OF THE WORKS OF _ BURNS. Kml) elliih> d by no less than THiRtv THRHE fine PlateS, ( after Wright and ether Arti- U,) Illustrative of the prin- cipal subjects of his Poems. With a new Life of Hnrug. am) Rx- plmatnry Notes prece I" g ea » li Put- m, by ALL. AN CUNNINGHAM. — In one handsome Volume, super- royal octavo, cloth extra, price ISs. Tliis will be found the most complete and best edition of tlie Works of Bums yrt offered lo Ibe public, and the < uly one edited by and published under tlie immediate suptriutendance of Mr. Cunningham. London-.— GEORGE VIHTUE. and Sold by a'l Booksellirs. 63T" Be careful to order the • People's Edition.' Now Publishing Price Two- pence, Formerly published atts. 61. WAT TYLER. A Dramatic Poem in Three Acts|; By Robert Xouthey, Esquire, PoetLaurelte t., Her Majesty. " F. rery Lover of his countr> and of her youihful population, should aid in diffusing this splendid drama."— PATKUIT. BYRON AND SOUTHEY! Now Publishing, in a Neat Wrapper, price 3 i , Tut VISION OF JUDGMENT— BY UKtO BYRON. Comprising: - Celestial scene after the Waterloo Carnage ; Trial of George the Tliird ; Neutral Space in the Spheres; The Cloud of Witnesses : W iikes and Junius; Southey the Reneitado ; Dispersion » f the Myriads ; together wllh a Preface, and copious Notes by ihe Noble Author; including the speech of W. Smith. Esq., : M. P., in the House of Commons, on the Poein ol Wat Tyler ; Lm- i on Martin the Kegtcide ; Criticisms of the Eclectic Review, and Blackwood s Mag.; Landor's Prinee Gebi'; Southey s Satanic School, and Lord Eluoii'a Judgment. Also, printed uniformly with the above. The VISION OF JUDGMENT— BY R. SOUTHEY L. L. D. Poet Laureate 10 Her Majesty Containing; The Trance— The Vault— I he Awakening.— The Gate of Heaven.— The Accusers — The Absolvers.— The Beatifi- cation.— I'he Surer'igns.— The K'der Worthies.— The Worthies of the Georgian Age.— The Young Spirits.— I'lic Meeting. * e* These two " Villous" may also be had, neatly stitched together, iu a thick cover, price Sixpence. Ask for Cleave's editions. Now Publishing, price Sixpence, neatly and closety printed, AMERICA AND ENGLAND CONTRASTED; or. the Emigrant'- Handbook aud guide to the United Stales • c-> mp'isiu « information as to the best lietds for Agricultural and Manufacturing Employment. Wtges, Climat-, Ships, Sbiiminij, Far West, wi h Letters from actual settlers, fce Ac. " This Sixpenny wmk abounds with information ; indeed, with every thing a > Euiigiant can seek to know. Every enquirer about the States shoulu possess him- clf of it. To praise this little w ork too highly were impossible."— MOKNINO ADVRRTISBK. Now Publishing, price One Penny only, PRINTED ON A LARGE BROAD SHEET, ASTER HUMPHREY S SECOND SIGHT AFJ- M - 1N \ CK for 1813 j containing a large engraved HIERO- GLYPHIC and Prognostications for ihal eventful year, with a carefully compiled t aienUar. including Weather Table, founded on Astronoiricai and Meteorological Calculations; Remarkable D. iys. ar. d a Mass ol highly valuable anil original Tables not to be found iu any oiher Almanack.— Liberal Allowance to Vendors. M NUl'S TO CRACK. taking the debts on himself, which, iu consequence of the general alarm, were quickly discharged. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that tbe subject of our present article exercised a rigid aud inexorable despotism: I but exerting it in most instances with impartial justice, , and for salutary purposes, his power wis submitted to j with less reluctance; he is c . lled, by a writer of that j period, a tcror and a scour^ but it was to evil doers, to | the profligate, the incorrigible, and the corrupt. Most rational men, I believe, would prefer living under an ab- \ solute monarch of such a cast, than under the easy sway of a lax moralist, a generous libertine, orone of those d vilish good kind of fellows who a'CjjO'nm itly described as * 1 man's ' enemy but their own ; a character which cannot eaiif — as it is impossible he can be a friend to others who is in u slate of constant hostility with himself. At all events ihe grtar. interests of society's public luppiness and private peace are most effectually preserved by a priuce like Montalto. In his transactions with foreign princes, Sixtus uni- formly preserved a dignified firnuuss, fiom which he never relaxed. Very eaily in his te'^ n, he was involved in a dispute withPu lip the Secind. K'iigo S ain, who, though the most superstit oas of bigott to the Ca holic faith, was a constant object of the Pope's hostility, while the heretic Elizabeth, Queen of England, was a character he warmly admired, and never mentioned without enthusiastic ad- miration. Speaking of her, on a certtin occasion, to an English Catholic who visited Rome, he observed, ' a Queen like yours deserves to reign ; she governs h- r kingdom witta energy and wisdom ; respected abroad, and loved or feared at home, her subjects enj - y the benefits of a vigorous and successful administration. It such a woman were to be- come my wife, we might people the world with a race of Scipios, Caesars, and Alexmders.' Yet, in his public capacity, as head of the Catholic church, he found it necessary to publish a bull of excom- munication against Elizabeth, when Philip meditated an | stanza! invasion of Eugland with his iivincible Spanish Armada. " At the same time, he privately informed her of the pro- ceedings and intrigues of Psilip against her, earnestly recommending her Majesty to prepare for a vigorous de- fence. The subsequent defeat and disappointment of the Span- ish King in this attempt, commenced with so much threat- ening arrogance, and carried on at so enormous an expence, is known to most readers, and was highly gratifying to Sixtus. The imprisonment and execution of Miry, Queen of CHARADB I. I am a word of twelve letters ; my » 6 11 3, is a well known plant: my 1 2 8, is the name of a tree : my 4 11 6 4 5, is a very wholesome vegetable; my 10 7 3 I 12 10, is the name of a certain description of property; my 12 6 9 10, when lost can never be recovered; my 7 11 4 5 10, is very productive in the noith of England ; my I 7 9 12 S 1, is the name of a fatal disease; my 9 1 12 10, is the name of ar. officer oil board of a ship; my 8 1 12, is an article of clothing ; my 10 1 7 8. is the most remarkable quarter of the universe ; my 9 4 12 8, is the name of ail insect; my 12 10 11, is an even number; my 9 1 7 3, is part of a ship; my 9 4 7 10 2 is the name of the greatest man in the Jewish history; my 12 10 1, is the name of a very useful plant in Asia; and my whole is what we are all subject jto, on hearing anything unex- pectedly. G. P— s. CHARADE It. A word I am, composed of letters six, Most people on me their attention fix; All persi. us I hope can 6 5,3,4, 5,1,4,2 6. will a tree explore; My 6.2 4, a colour bright I own ; 4.5 3 1, a noted sea- port town ; 1,5,3,4, a metal brings to view, Rivers my 1,5,3, and 4,5 2; With 4,5,2,6, pirks are often graced, And on my head 5,3 6, is placed; My 1,3 4.1.5, for punch we keep, And 4,2,3, G. really is uot cheap ; My bonny 1,3,4, do you 1 ive fish. Go take my 2,5 1, arid fill your dish; But should it h< pp- m that your fish is dry, Then take 1 3,6 4, and have a fry, Use not much 3 1,5, for tales it tells, And my whole trausposed is one who buys and sells : But now my pen is weary, I must conclude, 1 hope gentle reader you don't think me rude. TRUE IDEA OF POETRY.— Poetry, were it the rudest, so it be sincere, is the attempt which man makes to render his ex! stence harmonious, the utmost he can do for that end; it springs, therefore, from his whole feelings, opi- nions, activity, and lakes its character from these. It may Also Price one Penny. rpHE EVILS OF STAYS AND TIGHT LACING: ( with engraved i'lnstrations ) « , « " Every young womau should lead this really interesting tract."'— BRITISH REVIEW, Just Published, Price id., 33 Pages. ' I^ HE LAliOUR'NG CLASSES.— By O. A. Brown- I sou, of America, t his is a Spirit- stirring Address, well cal- culated to Rouse the Fillings, and Direct ihe Enrrgits of the Mind to a successful determination. Every Man ought to Buy this Pamphlet. Ne w Kdition, Price 8< I., J5o Pages, 12mo. ROUSSEAU'S SOCIAL CONTRACT, or Principles of 1 olitical Ilight. Price 3il. AN ORATION ON POLITICAL INDEPENDENCE. Delivered in tlie State House of Philadelphia b) Samuel A dams. " Oh I save my Country, Heaven! shall be my last." Now publishing, Price Two pence, THE STATE top THE QUESTION Between the PEOPLE, the MIDDLE CLASS KS, and the ARISTOCRACY Al- o Price One Penny. AWORD ON PROPERTY ; addressed to the LORDS and the COMMONS. CLEAVE'S MOTTO- WAFERS, For the FRIENDS OF FREEDOM AND TEMPERANCE These Mottoes are beautifully PRINTED 011 TINTED Adhe- sive Paper, and are sold at the exceedingly cheap rate of a penny per hundrod, consisting of 50 different sorts.— Persons enclosing Sixpence in a prepaid letter to the Publisher of this Work, will receive FOUR HUNDRED by return, post free. iiton's celebrated Speech on Unlicensed Printing 0 t » *' A composition not more remarkable throughout for splendid eloquence than for powerful reasoning."— Printing Machine. New Laws relating to Landlords, Tenants, and Lodgers 0 6 " In every situation of life, whether as landlord, tenant, or lodger, a know- ledge of the laws relating thereto is indispensable, and must prevent litigation and useless expense."— Weekly Herald. Person's Catechism for the Swinish Multitude 0 2 Robin Hood and Little John, by Pierce Egan, jun 7 Rousseau's Inquiry into the Nature of Social Contract 3 Self- Culture, by Dr. Channing o This reptint is very cheap, * nd does great credit to the publisher. Standard Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, parts at 4d.. complete 7 Short Hand Made Shorter, by J. Curtis 0 " The title of this book is a happy one, and what ia more an honest one; for the thing promised is realised. It ia an admirable work."— Times. Tal « « of Pirates, Smugglers, & c. of all Nations, in 11 parts at C Tales of Travellers, in numbers at 0 The New Black List; a comparative Table of Allowances to Rich and Poor Paupers 0 . The Poor Man's Guide to Pawning 0 4 " This is a complete Book of Useful Knowledge, for the unfortunate." The Drunkard's Cloak and Coat of Arms, with au engraving of a Drunkard's Liver 0 I The Likeliest Means to remove Hirelings out of the Church, by John Milton ,.... 0 6 The Peopling of Utopia 0 1* The Sequel to the Peopling of Utopia 0 1$ These tracts are earnestly recommended to the friends of the llational System for extensive circulation. The Post Captain, in parts at 6d. or complete for 1 g " Unquestionably, an able and a talented ocean- novel; and if the book- be not, as tne cant phrase goes, so ' pregnant with thrilling incidents,' as some productions of its class, it has at eut the merit of being piquant, lively, and cw at times highly eloquent. . . Wc will freely avow that we have not derived more pleasure from the perusal of any work of fic- tion, since the bright days when the Great Unknow* was'in tne zenith of his mvsterious glory."— Sunday Times. The Sam Weller Scrap Sheet, containing 40 Portraits of all the Pickwick Characters 0 2 The Twist & Nickleby Scrap Sheet, with 24 splendid Portraits 0 2 The Horrors of Transportation, with a Description of Van Diemen's Land, by one of the Dorchester Labourers... .0 4 The Political Pilgrim's Progress o 6 The Political Almanack, with the whole of the Pension List. .0 2 44 This important sheet should adorn every cottage and mansion through- out the length and breadth of the land."— Weekly True Sun. Wat Tyler, a dramatic poem by R. Southey, esq. poet laureate 0 44 Every lover of his species should make an etfert to circulate tl e this splen- or specie* s did and truly invaluable poem."— Patriot. William Tell, or Switzerland Delivered, by the Chevalier de Flori& n, with a short account of Tell 0 C 44 Go to the land where Tell drew Freedom's bow, And in the patriot's country thou shalt find A semblance ' twixt the scene aud his immortal mind."— Campbell. A. Heyw. oU, oo, oiutia u- si., » « ; in'oii stt- r. J. cleave. I, j? noe- - - - , . , r L • I ... J VU, wv, wiuun II- Obe, ••"" Vii OKI • Kita't, >, t- uue- be called the music ot his whole manner ot being: J ana lane, Fleet- st.; H. H t'- rrin. Mo , 10, Wine Office- court, Fl- et- st.; historically considered, is the best test ho* far music or i J * at on. city- road; and G. Porkess, Old C « mptoii- » t. Soho, freedom existed therein; Uow far the feeling of love, of L': n£ u"'• s'ar ° Jfi', e- { f^ J- Oue^^ ir- . j » • , , • ... . i mighani; W « t< s, Snow* hill. Birrangham: lli. bt son, Gree- iside- beavry, and dignity, could be elicited from that peculiar 9t j EdinHMr^ h ; Paton & Lave, Glasgow, and all venders in the situation of his, and from the views he there had of life United Kingdom, and nature, of the universe internal and external — Thomas Ca'lyle THE PLANT PHYSICIAN -— In the Irish Gardener's Maga- zine it is said, not only that decoctions, or the leaves dried and pondered, of the comnron camomile, Anthemis nobilis. will destroy insects, but that nothing contributes so much t'i the health ot a garden as a number of camomile plants dispersed through it. No green house or hot house should be without camomile in a green or in a dried state; either the stalks or flowers will answer. It is a singular fact, that if a plant is drooping and appa » ently d> it. g, in nine cases out of ten it will tecover, if you place a pUnt of camomile near it. Have any of your readers tried the camomile in any way as a remedy for umtcis in Eugland ? — John Brown, IV'esterham, Kent, Feb. 1834.— Gardeners' Magazine, 49. SPENSER'S STANZA.— It is somewhat remarkab'e that, notwithstanding Dr. Johnson's objections to the Spense- rian stanza, and his presumption of its unfitness tor popu- larity, the best poems of the best poets since that dictum was delivered, have been written in that same despised I need only mention ' Childe Harold," 44 Ger- trude ef Wyoming," and 41 The Revolt of IsUm " Others might be enumerated, as Burns's < 4 Cotter's Saturday Night;" Shensioue's exquisite " School- mistress," which will keep his name alive; and Beattie's 44 Minstrel," which, as long as there are young aud romantic minds, will find admirers,( or it is beautifully descriptive of the yearn- ings and smugglings <> f young intellect. Added to these again are Keat&' s 44 Eve of St. Agnes,'' written in the very spirit and warmth of Shakespeare's " Romeo and Juliet.;" Wordsworth's noble Laodamia," and Jvhu Clare's " Vil- lage Minstrel."— C. W. ' TK) those afflicted with U « > U l\ RHUBMA X rtSM, LUMBA( K), *( 1 \ TICA, T1C- DOLOUREUX, PAINS iu the HE\ D aad FACE, often mistaken for the TOOTH- ACHF., * c. & c. There is no medicine to whosf praise higher and more numerous testimonials have been given, than to BLAIR'S GOUT AND RHEUMATIC PI LL8,— fr mall parts of the Kingdom, and ever? rank in society, their > rreat efficacy is acK. nowledjed The recent case of the Chevalier de la Garde, Chamberlain to Stanislaus, late King of Poland, is one of the most convincing proofs of their great and extraordinary virtues. Similar effect were also ex- perienced by the Rev. Or. 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And while its edicacy is unparalleled for the fore- going diseases, it must br consolatory to the afflicted with Gout, te bf assured that it possesses the property of preventing the disease flying to the brain, stomach, or the vital parts. Sold by Thomas Prout, ii9, Strand, London ; and, by his ap- pointment, by all resoectable Medieiue Venders throughout the Kingdom, Price 2s. Ski. per box.— Ask for Blair's Gout aud Rheu- matic Pills, and observe the name and address of44 Thoman Prout, 229, Strand, London," impressed on the Government Stamp affixed to parh ' in* ofthfOonii'n" MuHWwk London: Published by JOHN CLEAVE, Shoe, ane, ( one door from Fleet- street), where all the cheap publications are con- stantly on sale.— R. E. LEE, Printer, Craven Yard, Drury- l& ne.