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THE GLEANER'S PORTE-FOLIO.
is not given to every one to dip their pen in ed? Why this malediction on one half of the rainbow ; but those writers who have the human race? Every woman of an age not the genius of Diderot, must be content to please and to persuade, ought to carry to throw over each line the dust on the butter- this question to the sittings of the Chamflu's ving, which certainly ought to be suf- bers; as, heretofore, the Roman dames, ficient to empower us to speak very agree-couducted by the daughter of Hortensius, ably of women.
carried to the senate their eloquent repreMontaigne speaks sweetly of women sentations. Our best orators might be where he says,
puzzled to answer these. “ Women are more willingly, as well as more
We find in the letters of Balzac, an au. glorionsty chaste, when they are beautiful.” thor vow almost forgotten, a remarkable
In the last century, as well as in the pre- | passage on women, which ought to be read sent, people have been declaiming conti- by every young person. I cannot termitinually against prejudice, and, in parti- vate this article better than by quoting it: eular, agarust that attached to birth; “ There are women, who, provided they which, excluding the middling and lower are but chaste, think they are privileged classts from every post of consequence, de
to do barm; and believe that, if exempt prived the state of a considerable store of from ove vise, they have every virtue. I useful talents. But no one has ever yet confess, that the loss of honour is the worst takeo upen bimself to examine if it is true,, misfortune that can happen to a woman; that women, in the full prime of life, what
but it does not foilow because she has preever may be their merit or information, served it that she has done an heroic acought, for the good of their country, to tion; aud I see nothing to admire because confine themselves merely to the couduct- she did not choose to live unhappy and dising their household affairs ? Would it not graced. I never heard it said that a person be difficult to prove that it is vexatjous for deserved praise for not having fallen into a superior talent to be buried in the son of the fire, or for avoiding a dangerous prea cobbler, and that it is not equally lost in cipice. We condemn the memory of a a woman? The wite of every private in. suicide ; but there is no recompence given dividual is declared incapable of occupying to those who do not kill themselves. And the most trifling public employment, and, thus a woman who glories in being chaste, notwithstanding, in every kingdom of the glories in not being dead, and for having a world, except in France, when they are of quality, without which she would have no royal race, they are judged capable of go- rank in the world, and where she would verning kingdoms; and these kingdoms go only remain to assist in the punishment of op like the rest-sometimes wrong, some
her name, and to see the infamy of her times right.
memory. An honest woman ouglit not so As, in general, women are not gifted much to consider vice as evil, but as imwith large hands and broad shoulders, it is possible; nor so much to hate it, as not evident they were never intended for war; to understand it. And if she is really vir. and we regret, on their account, the melan-, tuous, she will sooner believe that there are choly empire of the Amazons. But their ' griffius and centaurs, than liceutious fegentleness, the charms of their behaviour, males ; and will rather believe that people their conciliating spirit-do not they ren-' are slanderers, and common fame a liar, der them particularly suitable to some em than that her neighbour is not true to her ployments ? For example, in negotiations! busbaud. She will pity those who are Since the time of the Marechale de Gué- abused by others; and when she is told of briairt, several have been entrusted with a woman committing a crime, she will sasecret missious, and have acquitted them- tisfy herself with calling her unfortunate." selves with success. We have lately wit. - Translated from Mudame de Genlis's DicDessed one (universally regretted) who, of tionnaire Des Etiquettes, &c. &c. ber own accord, happily employed her active mind in this kind of way, with as much success as glory. Why, then, this Pride is the most detestable of all vices, formal exclusion, so obstiuately maintain. when it is carried to excess. When, with
DISGUISE AND NO DISGUISE.
extraordinary talents, it is found in high would be, to him, an insupportable burplaces, it is the cause of many public cala then ; his youth is passed in disputes, agimities; yet, at the same time, of many tation, and discontent of every kind. Hated, splendid actions. In order to be acquaint calumniated, turned into ridicule, he finishes ed with all its misery and deformity, we by throwing himself into bad company, must behold it in the ordinary situations of and there be fixes, because it is only there life: it has then no illusion to ennoble it, that he finds sycophants and flatterers. He and it becomes as puerile as it is hateful. becomes factious, wicked, and a misanWhen it aspires to the conquest of the thrope; he grows old without attachment, world, it may appear imposing; but how without friends, without heartfelt interest, stupid and hateful does it appear in society; || without consideration or respect; a victim where a person wishes to shine, not by of that frightful vice, the consequences of wit, talents, or virtuous actions, but by which are so fatal, and which caused even horses, carriages, clothes, shawls, &c. &c.; the angels to fall. who renders himself insufferable by his pre. There is another species of pride, or, tensions, his susceptibility, arrogance, and | rather, self-love, carried to a great extent, importance attached to trifles; by gossip which the world often confounds with virings, bickerings, disturbances, and dis. || tue, because its result is almost the same. putes, which are the inevitable result of It is that desire of shining, not by trifles, such things. Pride corrupts alike the beart' but by the performance of good actions, or and understanding; it renders all our judg. the possession of great talents, and wbich ments false. Pride only esteems its ad- aspire only to deserved success. This noble mirers; it despises all knowledge and ta- kind of self-love gives ardour to labour, lents, as well as all qualities, not belonging and aims at the result with perseverance, to itself. It renders a person blind to him the attainment of the empire over ourselves, self as to others, making him not only in. which makes us triumph over every peurile sensible to bis own faults, but often causes inclination, and even over those passions him to exaggerate them into virtues, and to which might keep us from the end to which deny the worst injuries he inflicts, because we wish to attain. It is this that has often he does not feel them himself; he becomes, caused a brilliant fortune to be employed necessarily, envious, and a stranger to the to the most worthy purposes; but in this pleasure of admiring another; be is, how case, if, at first, we are only guided by vaever, sufficiently punished by the secret nity, we may be said, in the end, to have vexation that the success of others gives to no other motive than pure benevolence.his heart. It is impossible for a proud man Generous men are always humape; a great to be grateful; he thinks every favour is his mind, therefore, often becomes added to a due; and, moreover, that great benefits good heart.-Ibid.
DISGUISE AND NO DISGUISE; A TALE.
(Concluded from Page 21.)
Whilst the Chevalier remained ab In fact, the part he was preparing to act, sorbed in thought, and in silent extacy at was attended with po small difficulties ; for the prospect that opened before him, Ma- | he would have at once to be thought a thilda, far from manifesting the least resent. woman, and to make himself agreeable as ment, exulted at the ingenuity of her sis a man. However, determined to avail himter's conception; and it being a settled self of the preliminaries which Caroline point between them that it now rested had so skilfully adjusted, he departed the with Adolphus alone to bring his affairs to very same evening, with no other attend. a happy conclusion, they earnestly com ant than Mathilda's confidential old sermenced a course of lectures on the counte- | vant, his own not being able to ride post as nance and behaviour he was to assume, the
a courier. better to be mistaken for a female.
Caroline was too well acquainted with
the ardent disposition of Adolphus, to ques- , that we are by ourselves." _“I can never tion bis acquiescence to her plan the mo forget whom I am speaking to."_“ Neiment she should make it known to him; a ther can l; and I verily believe, that, in communication which she deemed it ad- || order to be quits with you, I must apply visable to postpone, till the expected invi to my brother, who may easily be pretation arrived; and, accordingly, no sooner vailed upon to do justice to the merits of received the Baroness's letter, than, before || Mathilda de Rabar. Let me advise you, the above-stated conference taking place, by-the-bye, to warn your servant to be sbe sent word to her friend, that Mathilda
more on his guard ; for I have heard him, received her invitation with thanks, and occasionally, calling you Madame (which would set off as soon as she received the the good old fellow had really done through clothes she had bespoke of a fashionable | absence, thinking of his mistress); which tailor, as she delighted in the idea of mak- might be conducive to the detection of a ing the excursion, and of being treated as a secret, that I have hitherto beld sacred."gentleman by a fair lady.
“ From what I know of your brother, I The Chevalier de Rabar being announced, I would rejoice if he were to pay his adthe Baroness came to meet him, and, with | dresses to Mathilda."-" And from the great presence of mind, stretched out her knowledge I have of that amiable girl myband, which he was going respectfully to self, it would make me happy tom" kiss
, when recollecting, on a sudden, the Here they were interrupted by the arrival lessons he had received, he folded her in of a gamekeeper from a neighbouring nohis arms with all the familiarity of a female bleman, with the intelligence that the friend. Whether the salute was quite in Count d'Ullois was engaged in a shooting character, the Baroness was at a loss to deo and a bunting party that would keep him termine ; but the Count entering the apart. abroad for a few days, and that he accordmeut immediately after, the graceful bow ingly wished his valet, with proper articles of the supposed Mathilda made it appear, of wearing apparel, and a groom, with a that, when required, she was not forgetful couple of hunters, to go and meet him. of what she owed to herself, or of the part The Chevalier was too anxious to resume she was performing
a conversation which he thought might If the situation of the Chevalier was lead, perhaps, to a discovery of the Barontruly novel, that of the Baroness was not ess's real sentiments, not to seize the first much less so.—"The compliments which opportunity. He could never believe that pou lavish upon me, in the presence of my she intended to persevere in a resolution brother," would she often say to the Che. ' which he ascribed to a former disappointvalier, “1 dare not find amiss. I know ment in love: if she had loved once, it from what motive they are uttered: but I proved her not being destitute of a sensible must tell you, candidly, that I deem them heart; and, therefore, when he should find quite out of character when repeated in his ber in a proper mood, he might venture a absence. If the truth were known, it declaration with some hopes of it being might be imagined, they are reflections on Jistened to. Hazardous as the attempt my want of those qualifications which you must be, yet it must be made ; besides, a pretend to praise."—“But if they were formal denial could hardly cause greater spokeu from my heart,” said the other, in pangs than the state of suspense and unreply, “who would presume
put an op- li certainty in which he seemed condemned to posite construction on my meaning ?". live. Such were the thoughts that agitated " Forbear, my lovely friend, lest I should the unhappy lover's mind; but, notwithdoubt your sincerity. Allow me to indulge standing bis impatience, he imagined it a partiality which must bave originated would be advisable, previously to a nego. from ny iutimacy with your sister, and ciation of so much importance, to collect which, I must own, I felt the first sight | his ideas; to effect which, he betook himof you alone would have created. But, 1 self to the park, where he sought a solitary beg of you, once more, forbear compli- walk, that led to a pavilion. He, to his ments.”—“They are your due; and I will utmost surprise, though not utter disapmaintain it at my peril."_“You forget now 1 pointment, there found the Baroness, who
did not appear in a more quiet situation of inany of my female friends, who cannot mind than himself. They both remained || but be smitten at the sight of the most capsilent for some moments; but the Chevalier | tivating young man, in appearance only, at length began apologizing for his intru that ever was seen."" What! do you besion : “ most unintentionally, Madame," || lieve that such au impression could have added he, in a tremolous voice, “ have taken place?"_“I will not protest but I injured the happy mortal who was the ob- | might have been caught myself in the ject of your solitary cogitations, though share, had I not been apprized that
so envious of his lot."_" Those “I shall abide by the iusinuation."words," returned Clementina,“ speak you “ Avd resume your real character."“ So to be totally unacquainted with my disposi. I will."_" Now, then, I shall be at full tion.”—“Am I to infer that indifference?" || liberty to embrace my friend, my beloved _"No, indeed, I am far from being in- || Caroline's"_“ Brother," interrupted different and unfeeling; Caroline kwows, "he, kueeling before her, "who adores you. and can tell you that I am not. My sincere If a single glance at your image has been friendship for ber, and what I feel for you.". capable of producing such an impression, “Oh! that I were certail"_“Your you may judge of the effect of a personal doubts wrong me: yet, perhaps, I have, in acquaintance." some respect, given rise to them myself. The Chevalier said much more, which I You, most likely, would have felt grievously need not repeat.
All who have either offended, if I had informed my brother ' loved, or been loved, will be qualified to who you really are. In justice to him, I fill up the chasm. ought to have done so before now. I con An explanation of Caroline's contrivance fess," contime she, with a faiut smile, “it naturally took place; and the Baroness would be cruel to divest you of a dress so easily forgave the trick which made her a uncommonly becoming ; but am I not happy wife. equally culpable for exposing the peace of
DESCRIPTION OF THE GLACIERS IN THE ALPS.
The glaciers are sometimes, very im. from the tops of the neighbouring moun. properly, denominated mountaius of ice. tanus into the bottom of the valley, where Those enornious masses are amongst the they collect, as in a basin, in very compact most remarkable objects in the Alps.- 1 beds, several bundred feet thick. It may Whatever may be the figure or situation of rasily be conceived, that a similar mass the glaciers, they all, without exception, I cannot possibly get thawed thoroughly originale in a buge heap of spow, mixed || during the summer; so that, at the return with water; which, being frozen during ll of winter, it has assuined the aspect of a the winter, does not entirely melt in sun beap of frozen show, composed of small mer time, and thus continues iill the return rains, which are united together, and inof the winter season. It is exclusively increased in volume, by means of the water the most elevated vallies of the mountains filtering, and penetrating from the surface that all the glaciers have been tormed; loto the interior of the mass. those even the ramifications whicreof de PROGRESSIVE
THE GLAscend into the most fertile vallies. Very fen are to be seen in the direction from There is no valley throughout the Alps easi to nest; and all are surrounded by but the soil of which is in a slope. Thus, loft; inoubialus, whose shade considerably when the upper part of a vale is occupied weake'us the etect of the sun during the by a glacier, whose bulk and extent inthree summer mouthis. For an interval of crease annually, in proportion to the ad. nine months the snows will accumulate in ditional cold which it occasions itself; from those elevated regions. Lavanges of snow, such a state of things, the result must, unof an enorulous weight, incessautly fall ) avoidably, be a strong pression of ice to
CIERS TOWARDS THE LOWER VALLIES.
wards the lower part of the vale, which is that new heaps of ice have produced the the only part that opposes no resistance. necessary degree of pression for the action During the hot season, it is on the sides of to be felt at the lower extremity. the glaciers, and on their inferior surface, NATURE OF THE SURFACF:-The surwhich lays on the mountain, that the face and figure of the glaciers are deterlargest quantity of ice will melt; the mined by the kind of ground on which streams produced by the thaw form ex they rest. In such vallies as are level, and tensive vaults; the blocks of ice that are very little sloping, they are also level, and stopped by the angles of those vaults, are show but few chinks. On the reverse, fioally carried off by the waters collected when they desceud along a rapid slope, at their basis; and the air, confined in the and op a very uneven ground, their surface cavities of the glacier, breaks down part of is covered with crevices and eminences from the props which support these vaults, that fifty to one huudred feet high, the aspect it may be in equilibrium with the outward of which hears a resemblance to the waves air, when a change in the weight of the at
of the sea . If the slope be upwards of mosphere happens to take place. The thirty or forty degrees, the beds of ice will combination of those circumstances lessens break, move, accumulate, and assume the the number of the points of contact, and most diversified and fantastic figures. The the resistance of the friction. The impul surface of a glacier is more or less iutersect. sive power of the superior part, overcomes ed with chinks, some of which are often the efforts which still impede its action, and
several feet wide, and above one huwdred the whole mass is carried forward. To fine, feet deep. The extreme cold, the sudden wben the ice has completely filled up the change iv the temperature of the air, and upper valley, it is forcibly brought towards a sloping ground, are the principal causes the defile, where it finds an issue, and from of those chinks; the bottom whereof is of thence, by degrees, into the fertile valley, a dark-blue colour, and the borders, angles, where a higher degree of heat, checks, in and points, of the finest light green. Dursome measure, its further progress.
ing the winter season, profound silence INCREASE AND DIMINUTION OF
reigns along the glaciers; but as soon as GLACIERS.—The glaciers will sometimes the air begins to grow warm, and as long decrease for several consecutive years; that as the summer lasts, from time to time a is to say, the lower extremity of the glacier, tremendous roaring is heard, attended with situated in the fertile part of the valley, loses dreadful shakes, which cause the whole such a quantity of ice in consequence of the mountain to tremble; whenever a crevice thaw which takes place in summer, that it is formed, it is with a roaring like that of leaves part of the ground it occupied, when thunder. When those kinds of detonations ever the mass is not brought sufficiently
are beard several times in the course of a forward to replace that loss. On the other day, they are to be considered as the forehand, there are years in which they in ruvners of a change in the weather. The crease, and descend further into the valley, crevices are formed, and vary, not only and thus cover cultivated hills and mea every day, but at every hour, which occadows. However, there is nothing regular
sious the glaciers being so dangerous for in those orcurrences that depend entirely travellers. on the duration and severity of the winter
WINDS OF THE GLACIERS, TORRENTS, on the quantity of the snow—and on the Wells.—This phenomenon evinces the temperature of the summer It is generally agitation undergone by the air confined in the spring that the glaciers increase; beneath the glaciers, and inside of their and wlien, during the course of one year, inward cavities. The sudden change in they have advanced much farther than the atmosphere will sometimes occasion to Usual in the interior of a valley, they are
issue from the crevices in the glaciers, curcommonly seen to diminish for several years rents of air insufferably cold, which carry successively. It is probable that the extra away with them an icy dust, which they ordinary increase liath cleared the upper scatter afar like snow. Inside of the glavalley, so that several years are required ciers is heard, from all parts, the loud murbefore it is entirely obstructed again, and 'muring of the streams that work their way