and sailors' magazine. This said hut, which I am quite in a vein for writing; but that is has entirely the form of a cabin, holds all the no reason that my letter should be as long as merchandize, and is exclusively reserved for a German drama. I must conclude, that the that use, in every small boat in the larger post may not go out without your hearing ones it is divided in such a manner, that the|| from me.—Let me soon have news of yourself, smaller divisions may serve as lodgings to the and believe me ever, &c. &c. crew. : (To be continued.) MRS. GREEN'S NEW NOVEL-" GOOD MEN OF MODERN DATE." PUBLISHED BY T. TEGG, CHEAPSIDE. THIS evening Mr. and Mrs. Jefferies promised to attend their friends the following week to a masquerade. Mrs. Umfreville was also to be of the party, and Eliza, who had never witnessed this species of entertainment, which she had long desired to participate in, hoped to be recovered sufficiently to join the festive party; but having dined below the following Sunday, she caught a fresh cold, was remanded back to her own apartment, and strictly forbade mixing with the motley groupe on the day fixed, which was the Thursday after. She amused her mind with contriving the dresses of Mrs. Jefferies and Mrs. Umfreville, and in the promised pleasure of hearing from them a faithful description of the divertisse ment of the evening. Mrs. Jefferies again appeared a beautiful Thalestris, though not so young as when she captivated her fickle lord, who in the youthful charms of Eliza Fitzwarren, found much more attraction than in the maturer beauties of his wife.-Mrs. Umfreville made a very beautiful Bacchante, crowned with grapes and ivy; and Mr. Jef. feries very gallantly presented her with a pair of amethyst earrings, representing each a cluster of grapes; she waved the thyrsis gracefully in her hand, wished the admiring Eliza pleasant dreams, and the smiling girl saw them depart with all the longing wish natural to youth to accompany them. The whole party set off at ten to proceed first to the house of a lady who received masks previous to their entering the Opera-house. A note was brought to Miss Fitzwarren by the servant, telling her the bearer waited for an answer. The note contained Mr. Hartley's best respects, was sorry that his absence from town had prevented his being among those who were allowed the honour and happiness of congratulating Miss Fitzwarren on her re covery, but that he rejoiced no less at it than the most sincere of her friends; that his sister and himself dined in her neighbourhood, and if Miss Fitzwarren would permit, and was not likely to be retired to rest, they would call in their way home, and pay their respects to her for a few minutes at about eleven. The note of Hartley was read with the most pleasurable emotion over and over again; she knew not before that he had a sister; how flattering to her was the wish of the brother to introduce her to that sister! She changed the elegant morning cap she had on for one more becoming, and fond expectation riding on the wings of hope, gave to her cheek the delicate tint of the palest rose of blushing hue. When first she received the note from Hartley, she was deeply engaged in perusing a new and interesting publication. Now it had lost all its powers of beguiling the lonely hour, and all her efforts to fix her attention again on it were in vain, she scarce knew a single word she read. She sat leaning her head on her hand, while her eye sparkled at the reflection, how fortunate it was that she missed going to the Opera-house, when she heard a kind of contention on the stairs, between Sir Theodosius Stanmore and the waiting-maid of Mrs. Jefferies; he rushed past her and was instantly at the fect of Eliza. The first words which he addressed to her were:-"O save me, save me, most adored of women! It is in your power to render a distracted being, from a most miserable wretch, the happiest of mankind. Oh, my beloved Miss Fitzwarren! the only woman who could ever gain a decided conquest over my heart, angelic Eliza, listen to me!' "Sir Theodosius," said she rising, while he endeavoured to detain her by the gown, "I entreat, I supplicate, that you will leave me, or explain the reason of this your frantic and unwarrantable behaviour."-" I will die," replied he, a thousand deaths, my dear Miss Fitzwarren, sooner than offend you; but here will I kneel until you promise to grant me a few minutes attentive hearing, then you will judge what a wretched being I am likely to become if you will not nobly consent to save me. O hear me, for time presses; by con. senting to become my wife, you will save me from a detestable and ill assorted union; wedded already 1 caunot marry another, and my uncle will be brought to relent; O Miss Fitzwarren suffer me—. Ah! what is that? my uncle's footstep!"-" Impossible," replied Eliza, "he is at the masquerade;"-though her cheek became palid and her frame tremb ling from her being well assured that it was Mr. Jefferies, whose foot they heard on the stairs. "If my uncle sees me here," said Sir Theodosius, "I am undone: where, oh! where can I retreat? I must," added he, taking hold of the handle of Eliza's bed room door, "I must conceal myself in this chamber." Mr. Jefferies knocked at the door as Eliza was saying, in a low voice to Theodosius:"Sir I cannot, must not permit it." But Theodosius had glided into the chamber as his uncle repeated a knock on the outside door-With a faultering voice she said, "Come in." Mr. Jefferies presented himself; he beheld her evident perturbation, kindly and tenderly inquired if she did not yet find her spirits free from agitation, and in the softest manner imaginable expressed the kindest wishes towards her. "This state of life is not suited for you, charming Miss Fitzwarren," said he; you must allow me to be the happy arbiter of your destiny; and be assured, loveliest of women, I will settle the half of my ample fortune on you, if you will only in return afford me but a tenth part of that ardent love I feel for you." "Did you, Sir," said Eliza, with much displeasure, "visit me this evening, in the absence of your lady, with a purposed determination of insulting me?"-"What insult, adorable creature," said Mr. Jefferies, "can there be in telling you I love you better than life itself?"" Much, Sir," said Eliza, "when you consider your situation and mine-however, we will now, if you please, Sir, wave all argument; I request your absence,-I expect a lady here in a few minutes, and I desire I may be left alone." "Dearest Eliz," said Mr. Jefferies, "I wish you well; do not then be so much your own enemy as to slight offers, which, be assured, are not to be met with every day: I will make you happy, independent, and you may set the world at defiance." He then endeavoured to press the hand of Eliza to his lips, when she burst into tears, and again insisted on his leaving the room; his infamous proposals she found so cruel an insult, that deprest with bodily weakness and mental agony, her tottering frame would scarce suffer her to reach the cordon of the bell, as she said to Mr. Jefferies, "Leave me, Sir, and to-morrow I will for ever quit your house, much as I esteem and respect your injured lady. I should be loath, for her sake, to expose you to your servants, but be assured I will instantly ring for them to turn you out, if you do not immediately quit my apartment." "I do not fear your quitting my house, while my nephew is in it," said Mr. Jefferies, very spitefully, nor am I to be told that he visited you alone this evening—that you deemed no transgression." "Neither do I deny, Sir," replied she, "that Sir Theodosius has been here this evening; he visits me almost every day."—" Aye, aye, take care of him," said Mr. Jefferies; when a well known voice was heard on the stairs— "Oh! do light me up stairs to Miss Fitzwarren's dressing room. I never was in such a crowded atmosphere before, as that abominable Opera-house." "Oh! shield me Miss Fitzwarren,” cried Mr. Jefferies, " from that infernal Proserpine! I am a ruined man, by Heaven, if she finds me here;" and instantly he flew to the same retreat as his nephew, who seizing his uncle by the lapel of bis coat, and dragging him into the chamber, said:" Aye, uncle, you told Miss Fitzwarren to take care of your nephew, but now the nephew will take care of the uncle." So saying, he locked him in, threw the key of the door on the little table on which Eliza leaned.—“This is a prime affair,” added he, without considering the consequences it might entail on his beloved Eliza; "there will be rare sport, by and by, with angry Letty. Come, old girl," said he to her, as he rushed by when she entered the room, "in with you, good night.” Mrs. Umfreville as yet thought nothing; but the evident confusion of Eliza, and the tremor she was in, convinced the beautiful Bacchante, that the visit of the young Theodosius was not of that indifferent nature, as those morning calls of inquiry which he had made in her company, or when with his aunt and uncle he visited the fair invalid. She was not displeased at the discovery she imagined she had made; she knew that she herself must give up all hopes of making a couquest of the handsome Theodosius; and she now resolved, if possible, to gain the confidence of Eliza, and determined, also, kindly to assist her. She was not blind to the tenderness Mr. Jef feries evinced for her; and if the governess was married and fairly out of the way, Mr. Jefferies would again be all her own. She laid down her mask, took up the key of Eliza's chamber, twirling it round her finger, while she looked archly in the face of the poor distressed and embarrassed girl. "Come, come, I know what this love is; trust in me, who am ever your friend; it is in your power to make an amiable young man, who is become an absolute fool of fashion, every thing that is amiable and excellent. I know Theodosius loves you-Jefferies is a fool, a downwright || money loving dolt, to think of sacrificing such a sweet fellow as Theodosius to that milk and water, sallow looking, muddy eyed thing, Miss Plevithren, whom I know he hates." Just in the midst of the lady's harangue, the servant ushered in Mr. Hartley and his sister. The young lady was more genteel and interestNo. XXX. Vel, V.-N.S. ing than handsome, nor did she bear the least resemblance to her brother. Eliza endeavoured to collect herself, and advancing towards the lady, said, how much she esteemed herself honoured by this visit from Miss Hartley. The sister and brother exchanged a smile. Emma," says he, has teized n.e to death to introduce her to you."—" And yet, indeed,” said the young lady, "I once hoped to have been the person who would have had the pleasure of introducing Miss Fitzwarren to you; mamma has often talked of her."—Eliza had never, to her knowledge, seen the mother of Hartley; she did not visit at Mr. Jefferies', and she was wondering at the words of Miss Emma, when Mr. Hartley said:"Pardon my interrupting you, sister, we are all guilty of neglect; permit me, Emma, to introduce to you Mrs. Umfreville, the prettiest bacchante that ever was seen." "Did you not find, madam," said Miss Emma, on whose intelligent countenance there appeared not much admiration of the lady just introduced to her, "did you not find the amusement what you wished, that you quitted it so early?"—"Horrid !" said Mrs. Umfreville, "the warmth of the place was, I am sure, forty degrees beyond that ever experienced under the torrid zone. Now I never use rouge." Emma looked unbelieving, and Mr. Hartley whose eccentric character sometimes made him forget the precise etiquette of politeness, said with great sangfroid, "I thought you always did." "Pure nature," said Mrs. Umfreville; "but as a bacchante, you know, my face ought to appear of a high red. Now the heat occa. sioned by my mask, in that suffocating place, has entirely deprived me of what little I added to my own natural colour. Eliza, my love, let me go and put on a little in your room; I promised Lady Eglintown to sup with her party at one."-" You will not find any rouge there," said the confused Eliza. "Oh! no, I dare say not, my little rustic," replied Mrs Umfreville; "but I always, on these occasions, carry Madame Martin's tablettes in my bosom, her colours have such a fine effect by candlelight." "For a lady," said Mr. Hartley, rather sarT dif. castically, "who is so much indebted to all | 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 suspicious brought conviction to her mind. bounteous nature, you seem to know all the || She dragged Mr. Jefferies from the place of is 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 ad. joining 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 support 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 so passionately devoted. He was remarkable for the most egregious vanity, and for the broadest ecceutricities of character, and almost equally omi nent for the most noble virtues of the heart. By a very singular perversion of intellect, he became 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 betrayed him into the most whimsical acts of extrava gance, and particularly into the publication of a Dictionary of Atheists, in which he enregis tered, not only many 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 lande, nor was any savant ever rewarded, during so long a course of years, with so many toxicating homage. Before the age of twentyfive, he was admitted into almost all the learned academies of the world, and pensioned by the principal monarchs of the Continent. He travelled through nearly all the states of Europe, and was every where received with demonstrations of the most enthusiastic respect, not only by the learned of every description, but by all who were most distinguished in rank and fortune. In Italy, upon which he wrote the best-book of Travels now extant, he was overwhelmed with attentions by Clement XIII. and pursued, from the remotest extremities of that country, by its most dis tinguished ornaments in every department of knowledge and taste. He found his bust in most of the observatories in Germany, and was greeted with the surname of the God of Astronomy in some of the cities of the North. His reception in England was of the most flattering kind, and in fact all his journies were but a continued succession of brilliant triumphs. Before he had passed the age of thirty, he numbered among his correspondents and his private friends, some of the reigning Princes of Germany, and almost every author or savant of note in Europe. His works would the Institute, which that body will not soon forget. At an extraordinary sitting of all the classes convoked for the purpose, when La-scientific honours, or feasted with more inJande was present, a letter from the Emperor was announced, and read aloud, in which it declared that M. de Lalande had fallen into a state of dotage, and was forbidden to publish thereafter any thing in his own name. The old astronomer rose very solemnly, bowed low, and replied, that he would certainly obey the orders of his Majesty. His atheistical absurdities, deserved no doubt, to be repressed, but, besides the singularity of this form of interdiction, there was an unnecessary degree of severity in it, as the end might have been attained without so public a humiliation. Lalaude was notoriously superannuated, and not therefore a fit object for this species of punishment. Some consideration, moreover, was due to his many private virtues, to his rank in the scientic world, and to the large additions which he had made to the stock of human knowledge. His atheistical opinions arose, not from any moral depravity, but from a positive alienation of mind on religious topics. He was not the less conspicuous for the most disinterested generosity; for warm feelings of humanity; for the gentleness of his manners; for the soundness of his opinions on questions of science, and for a certain magnanimity with regard to the merit of his rivals and detrac-embrace more than sixty ponderous volumes, tors. The extravagance of his opinions and bis manners during his dotage, rendered him an object of universal derision in Paris, and subjected him to the most cruel and indecent mockery. It became fashionable, even among those who had derived their knowledge from his lessons, and experienced his bounty, to depreciate his merits, both as an astronomer and as a man. Lalande had the misfortune of living to see a maxim verified in bis own regard, which has been exemplified in every age and country-that 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 contem. poraries. and correspond, by their learning and utility, to the high reputation which he enjoyed. It is not therefore much to be wondered at, if the circumstances of his early life produced that delirium of vanity, if I may be allowed the expression, which marked his character in the last stage of his career. In the conversation which I had with him, not many months before his death, I frequently saw occasion to admire both the bril 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 in.beliant a debut upon the world of science as La-cility of human nature, even when most emi |