castically, "who is so much indebted to all bounteous nature, you seem to know all the various properties of false colours!"

"Oh!" said Mrs. Umfreville," it is my different friends who tell me of them; and a woman of fashion cannot possibly exist at one time or other without these requisite aids. This is the key of your chamber, my Eliza," added she; "I know it well, for I used to sleep there before you came."-" No, madam," said Eliza, in a tremulous voice; "I do not think that is the key,besides—‚”—“Besides what? my dear," said Mrs. Umfreville. "I tell you I know it very well." And as she was putting it to the door, Eliza, almost frantic, though pure as innocence itself, agonised at the idea of the scene that must ensue, said, "Indeed, madam, you cannot get in, the lock, I believe, is broke."

freville suspicious; the room appeared in all its accustomed neatness; she listened, she looked carefully round before she began her toilette operations. Unluckily, Mr. Jefferies had a slight cough; this cough increased to that degree, that the curtain at the head of the bed was agitated with it. She flew to it, and her former suspicions brought conviction to her mind.

She dragg d Mr. Jefferies from the place of his concealment, she smiled malevolently on him; she untied the wreath of ivy which was crossed over her shoulders, and sportively flung it round his neck; "Resistance is vain," said she, "I expose every thing if you offer to make any." And leading him into the adjoining apartment, she scoffingly pointed to || him saying, " Behold, ladies, how I have caught this gentleman of the bed-chamber in my toils!"

Not all the powers of the pen or pencil could do justice to the groupe in Miss Fitz

"All this is very strange," said Mrs. Umfreville, turning the wards, and Eliza screamed, "Pray, madam, desist; let me light you to Mrs. Jefferies' dressing room,-this gentle-warren's dressing-room. Eliza Fitzwarren man and lady will excuse me,—indeed,” added she, in a whisper, "the room is in such a litter, that, that when the door is opened, my friends will see it."—" O no, no, I will take care of that," said Mrs. Umfreville, and rushed into the room.

The agitation of Eliza, rendered Mrs. Um

pale and trembling, had sunk on her chair,
and seemed with the utmost difficulty to sup-
port herself from fainting, and a deep look of
reproach and concern
was depicted on the
countenance of Mr. Hartley, as he struck his
forehead, and took the hand of his sister.

MEMOIRS OF THE LATE ASTRONOMER, LALANDE.

THE elder Lalande, the celebrated Pro fessor of Astronomy, and one of the most extraordinary men of his age, was among the first of the distinguished savans, with whom it was my good fortune to become acquainted. He died during my residence at Paris, and, after his decease, had that justice done to his stupendous powers and acquirements, which, as it happens to many others, was refused to him during the last years of his life. Lalande, if not the most profound and original, was certainly the most learned astronomer of France, and the principal benefactor of the science to which he was 60 passionately devoted. He was remarkable for the most egregious vanity, and for the broadest eccentricities of character, and almost equally emi

nent for the most noble virtues of the heart. By a very singular perversion of intellect, he be came a professed atheist about the commencement of the French revolution; pronounced, in the year 1793, in the Pantheon, a discourse against the existence of God, with the red cap upon his head, and displayed on this subject the most absolute insanity during the rest of his life. This monstrous infatuation be rayed him into the most whimsical acts of extravagance, and particularly into the publication of a Dictionary of Atheists, in which he enregistered, not only mauy of “the illustrious dead," but a great number of his contemporaries, and, among these, some of the principal dignitaries of the empire.

This circumstance led to an occurrence in

the Institute, which that body will not soon lande, nor was any savant ever rewarded, durforget. At an extraordinary sitting of all the ing so long a course of years, with so many classes convoked for the purpose, when La- scientific honours, or feasted with more inlande was present, a letter from the Emperor toxicating homage. Before the age of twentywas announced, and read aloud, in which it five, he was admitted into almost all the declared that M. de Lalande had fallen into learned academies of the world, and pensioned a state of dotage, and was forbidden to publish by the principal monarchs of the Continent. thereafter any thing in his own name. The He travelled through nearly all the states of old astronomer rose very solemnly, bowed low, Europe, and was every where received with and replied, that he would certainly obey the demonstrations of the most enthusiastic reorders of his Majesty. His atheistical absur- spect, not only by the learned of every descripdities, deserved no doubt, to be repressed, but, || tion, but by all who were most distinguished besides the singularity of this form of inter- in rank and fortune. In Italy, upon which he diction, there was an unnecessary degree of wrote the best book of Travels now extant, severity in it, as the end might have been at- he was overwhelmed with attentions by Cletained without so public a humiliation. Lament XIII. and pursued, from the remotest lande was notoriously superannuated, and not extremities of that country, by its most distherefore a fit object for this species of punish- tinguished ornaments in every department ment. Some consideration, moreover, was due of knowledge and taste. He found his bust in to his many private virtues, to his rank in the most of the observatories in Germany, and was scientic world, and to the large additions greeted with the surname of the God of Astrowhich he had made to the stock of human nomy in some of the cities of the North. His knowledge. His atheistical opinions arose, reception in England was of the most flatternot from any moral depravity, but from a ing kind, and in fact all his journies were but positive alienation of mind on religious topics. a continued succession of brilliant triumphs. He was not the less conspicuous for the most Before he had passed the age of thirty, he disinterested generosity; for warm feelings of numbered among his correspondents and his humanity; for the gentleness of his manners; private friends, some of the reigning Princes for the soundness of his opinions on questions of Germany, and almost every author or of science, and for a certain magnanimity with savant of note in Europe. His works would regard to the merit of his rivals and detrac- embrace more than sixty ponderous volumes, tors. The extravagance of his opinions and and correspond, by their learning and utility, his manners during his dotage, rendered him to the high reputation which he enjoyed. It an object of universal derision in Paris, and is not therefore much to be wondered at, if the subjected him to the most cruel and in- circumstances of his early life produced that decent mockery. It became fashionable, even delirium of vanity, if I may be allowed the among those who had derived their knowledge expression, which marked his character in the from his lessons, and experienced his bounty, last stage of his career. to depreciate his merits, both as an astronomer and as a man. Lalande had the misfortune of living to see a maxim verified in his⠀quently saw occasion to admire both the brilown regard, which has been exemplified in every age and country-hat some disciples may become superior to their masters. But he was, nevertheless, at all times, among the Juminaries of science, and to him astronomy was indebted for more substantial and unremitted services, than to any of his contemporaries.

In the conversation which I had with him, not many months before his death, I fre

liancy of his imagination, and the copiousness of his knowledge; but it was imposible to confine him, for any length of time, to a rational strain of discourse. His mind reverted incessantly to his favourite theory of atheism, and to his own personal merits, upon which he expatiated with a complacency that would have been irresistibly ludicrous, if it had not No person of the last century made so bril exhibited so melancholy a proof of the imbeliant a debut upon the world of science as La-cility of human nature, even when most emi

rently gifted. When he spoke, however, of republican institutions and of this country, he displayed a liberality of sentiment and an ardent attachment to the cause of freedom, which, with me, made full amends for his egotism. His passion for astronomical studies never deserted him. Until the moment of his dissolution, he was engaged in deep calculations, and in the most elaborate researches. He was at all times lavish of his fortune, in favour of the interests of science, and gave to the Institute, in the year 1802, a considerable sum in perpetuity, the interest of which, was to be allotted to the person who produced the best work on Astronomy, or made the most important discovery in that science, in the course of the year.

I was present at his funeral, which was attended by his brethren of the Institute, and rendered particularly solemn by the discourse pronounced over his grave. Dupont de Nemours, now one of the most prominent of the literati of Paris, and who, as you may recollect, resided at New York a few years ago, stepped forth from the crowd, with the tears flowing rapidly from his eyes, and, in the course of a very touching panegyric on the deceased, recited acts of benevolence, which had fallen under his own observation, that would have done honour to a Howard. He made one strik ing observation, in which his whole auditory "that Lalande appeared to acquiesce at once; had more religion than he was conscious of possessing."

Lalande was below the middle size, and exhibited one of the ugliest faces that I have ever seen. He was, however, not a little vain of his person, and extremely fond of narrating the conquests which he had achieved, in his youth, over the hearts of half the Princesses of Europe. The egotism which completely vanquished his judgment in his old age, blinded him to the absurdity and falsehood of the recital on this head, which he never failed to make, even to his casual visitors. He fancied that he had arrived at absolute perfection, and published at various

|| least to deduct that of modesty." His manners
were exceedingly engaging, and his conversa-
tion was enlivened by brilliant sallies, and
by a singular degree of candour and naivette.
Lalande addressed a delineation of himself to
a lady who had promised to write his life. I
cannot resist the temptation of transcribing
it for you, as it exhibits an amusing specimen
of the superlative vanity, and for the most
part, a very just picture of the character of
this extraordinary man.

"I am," says he, "an enemy of show and ostentation; my amour propre (and every one has his share) has but one object-literary glory. My patience and temper can withstand any vexations arising either from sickness, disappointment, or injustice.

"I exercise the most liberal indulgence with regard to the faults or follies of others. I find every thing good. I can bear pleasantry, sarcasm, or even slander, but I know how to rally in my turn. I dislike the common plea sures of this world. I cannot endure gambling, shows, or feasts.

"I never go to the play: study, and the converse of intelligent persons, particularly of well-informed women, are my only amusements. Such have been for me, in regular succession, the meetings of Madle. Geoffrin, du Bocage, du Defante, de Bourdic, de Beauharnais, de Salem, &c. In frequenting their societies, I always go on foot, and sometimes take long walks; my object in so doing is to encounter mendicants, and I take pleasure in relieving them.

"I have often lent, and my money has been rarely returned, but I have never reclaimed it. My honesty of speech often degenerates into rudeness. I have never been able to dissemble the truth, even when it was calculated to of fend. I have often fallen out with old friends, in consequence of refusing them my suffrage at academic elections. I never could bear the

weight of hatred on my mind; I have made many enemies by my candour; but I never hated, and I have always endeavoured to conciliate them. I love whatever contributes to the

what contributes to their amusement.

times a notification to the world," that he perfection of mankind, and care very little for possessed all the virtues and good qualities of human nature." A wit of Paris very earnestly requested him on one of these occasions, "at

"Gratitude is so deeply implanted in my heart, that I weep involuntarily whenever Ire

collect the proofs which I have either given or received of this feeling. The numerous instances of ingratitude which I have experienced, have never diminished the warmth of my acknowledgment for favours.

"Among the numerous men who have honoured me with their friendship, I recollect with pleasure, Montesquieu, Fontenelle, J. J. Rosseau, Dalembert, Clairaut, Maupertuis, La Condamine, Voltaire, Reaumur, Euler, Barthelemi, Raynal, Macquer, &c.

"The last wished me to marry his daughter. I refused her from a motive of friend

ship to the family; she deserved a better

match.

"I am reproached with speaking too often of myself. I acknowledge this defect, and have no other excuse to offer but my natural sincerity and my love of truth. I maintain that it is treason against the community to be silent in relation to the vices of others. It

terfered with my studies. They have never made me pay a morning visit. I have sometimes said to handsome women, 'It only rests with you to make me happy, but it is not in your power to make me miserable.' They tell me that I have never truly loved-granted; if to love truely it be necessary to turn fool.

"I am rich, but I have no caprices nor wants. I have but few servants, and no horses; I am temperate and simple in my habits; I never ride: I can sleep any where. Great opulence or rank would be useless to me. "I am well prepared for death. When I write a note or a memoir, I say to myself perhaps this is the last; but it is a great grati. fication for me to render an additional service to astronomy, and to add another stone to the edifice of my reputation.

"I am satisfied not only with my physical constitution but with my moral being, with my philosophy, with my sensibility, with my disposition to stigmatize vice, although it has made me many enemies: I enjoy therefore all the happiness of which humanity is capable. I am one of the most contented men on earth, and I can say, as Bayard did, that I feel my soul glide away from me satified with her

is sacrificing the good, from a mistaken charity
to the bad. I love my family. I have given up to
them the enjoyment of my income, even during
my life time. I have loved women much;
I love them still. I have always endeavoured
to contribute to their improvement; my
passion for them has always been reasonable; | self."-Travels of an American.
they have never injured my fortune, nor in-

THE NEW SYSTEM OF BOTANY,

WITH PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF FLORA, &c. &c. &c.

THERE is no country in the universe, on the same scale of temperature, to which nature may be said to have been more unkind than to that of England; as far, at least, as regards spontaneous, or rather indigenous productions. Yet if she has acted as a step. mother with regard to vegetable gifts, she has been bountiful in a race of men whose talents, enterprise, perseverance, and industry have not only drained the insalubrious marsh, and clothed the naked rocks with verdure, but have also naturalized to the English climate both the useful and the elegant of the botany of almost every clime. Many of these have been so long familiarized to our view, that the first introduction is forgotten, and we consider

them as in their nature habitat; and amongst these we may rank the

JASMINE,

or jessamine, of whose native country modern botanists seem uncertain, though there is no doubt that the common white jessamine has been cultivated in this kingdom for three centuries; for in the reign of Queen Elizabeth it was in high esteem both for the elegance of its appearance, and the fragrance of its florets, and is then stated by Gerarde, who wrote in 1597, to have been very common in most parts of England. The rich cultivated it with care in order to form their arbours, and to wreath its tendrils round their garden banqueting-houses,