EPITAPH.

Stitched in his winding sheet, and cold-press'd in Boards HERE RESTETH

the body, (waste or refuse) of

of M

Bookseller, Stationer, Bookbinder, and Printer.DISEASE

made many small stops (,;) in his career, and ye of DEATH

put a period to his early page of existence on ye 28th day of April, 1823.

His qualities were as various as bis callings, and each had given a particular tone to bis thoughts & actions. As a BOOKSELLER

though conversant in an eminent degree, wh literature, yet his knowledge of

"Divinity, Medicine, ye Arts and Sciences, Auctores Classici," &c. &c. was merely titular; but he had higher attainments in "Poetry, Plays, Works on ye Drama, Facetic, or books of Wit, Drollery, or Imagination.

THE CATALOGUE

of his virtues is not "extensive," but the few which he possessed were select, and on inspection would be found to be complete and perfect.

His vices were more numerous-but judge not harshly, "gentle reader," for whom is there that has not some inferior works in his collection?-However, he loved virtue, and it obtained from him a note of admiration (!) as much in the duodecimo as in the largest folio-in the peasant as in the lord.

As a STATIONER and BOOKBINDER, his acts were of very different colours, sometimes dark and sometimes light; yet they all bore a peculiar glare and polish.Though never an agriculturist, yet he would occasionally put his hand to the plough; he could sew also. He was never clasp'd in the bands of matrimony, consequently was unique, and denied the pleasure of folding one small copy of himself to his breast, of forwarding it in this world, or of finishing it for that which is to come. Just, as well as affectionate, he would have beaten his own child, had he deserved it.HIS TALENTS

were worth more than a Foolscap, being of a Demy or Medium ratio.

THE JOURNAL OF HIS LIFE

was never blotted by the entry of a mean action, nor was he ever a tool to any one. Poor fellow ! Yet did he "not escape calumny," for he had many enemies, who frequently took him to pieces-these, he always regarded as light as a wafer, and was wont to laugh and say, "they might go to Pot," convinced that they looked at his outside only. But his inside, or heart, was good and kind, nor was he cross-grained, for, before he died he forgave them, trusting they would forget their malice when he was (in the parenthesis of a coffin) under the cold marble. It is supposed he did not travel much, though his favourite residence was in the West of England, as appears from many of his letters and papers being stamped “Bath.”,

His exterior was not handsome, not being ornamented with much gold or brass-his dress perfectly consistent with his calling, namely, half-calf and sheep.

As a PRINTER

Here must be mentioned his descent from an Old English family.

man of

In this capacity he was most known as a letters," being well acquainted wh the Greek, ROMAN, ITALIAN, EGYPTIAN, and German characters. His compositions in these languages are numerous, yet strange to say, he never was an AUTHOR. There are many other things in his career, equally as paradoxical, for instance, though he was never in the Navy, yet was he a Press-man; and without the aid of magic did he "pull the devil by the tail." He never cut a for he was poor; therefore always content with a pocket ADdition; in his greatest

riches he never was possessed of a Diamond or a Pearl.

STRANGER

such were the various qualities of the person who sleeps in the grave below-there let his remains rest until that great day when he shall come out in a new form, in the joyful hope of receiving a royal and imperial crown.-(Super-royal, because it fadeth not away

"Reader! as gazing on this letter'd stone,"
Thou see'st my fate-regard not less thine own;
If on my virtues thou should'st sometimes think,
Or on my vices (though as black as ink)
May one call forth a note of admiration!
The other to thy soul interrogation?
Remind thee for one moment at the most
Of that long sleep, to which thou soon must post.
Yes! thy reflections may be grave as Sturm's
For men like books are eaten here by worms!
Ay! to such reptiles I am serv'd for meat
Who spread for table-cloth my winding-sheet :
Each day on me they sumptuously dine,
Quaffing my blood (to them the richest wine !)-
Then should this sheet in future days be found
By some old Sexton, digging up this ground
The relic to a Stationer convey-

"Tis antiquarian" he will quickly say
And prize it for a brother chip long dead
Last of his alphabet the letter Z.

My years just like these lines are two and twenty,
Go passenger! ere this you've had quite plenty.

LITERATURE.

ENGLISH LYRICS.

The English Lyrics, by W. Smyth, Esq. Professor of Modern History, in the University of Cambridge, being so well known and universally admired, it is really matter of surprise that the Editor of the Sheffield Independent should now present his readers with a series of extracts from that work, and introduce them by the following original article:

"In 1797, a small volume of Poems was published [anonymously] at Liverpool, under the above unassuming title. At the time it appeared, it was understood to be the production of an Irish gentleman-a supposition which some of the rhymes have a tendency to confirm. [Notwithstanding this quizzical insinuation, our readers do not need to be informed, that the Author of English Lyrics is a native of England.] The dif ferent pieces, however, which compose this little volume, have, on the whole, great poetic beauty,and it is our intention occasionally to select a flower from this charming bouquet."

The English Lyrics, in two Parts, with the Author's name, was afterwards printed in London, and has passed through two or three editions. The work has also been reviewed in the

Edinburgh Review, and in most of the English Literary Journals.

An original Poem, never before printed, by Professor Smyth, was inserted in a former number of our publication; and we should feel obliged to the correspondent who favoured us with a copy of that Poem, for any other original composition, by the same Author.

THE DRAMA.

MANCHESTER DRAMATIC REGISTER,
From Monday May 5th, to Friday May 9th, 1823.
Monday.-For the Benefit of Mr. Browne.-The Way
to Get Married: Bombastes Furioso: and Of Age
To-morrow.

Wednesday. For the Benefit of Messrs Foster and
Porteus. Guy Mannering with Tekeli.
Thursday.-Wheel of Fortune: with No Song no
Supper.

Friday. For the Benefit of Mr. Andrews.-The Castle of Andalusia: with The Broken Sword.

FASHIONS FOR MAY.

WALKING DRESS.

Cloak or mantle of Levantine silk, of flamme de ponche colour; at the bottom are four narrow satin rouleaus, and also round the hood, which is drawn with white satin ribbon ; small square standing collar. The cloak is lined with white sarsnet, and for cool mornings and chilly evenings will be found appropriate and comfortable. The dress is of English ̧. twilled sarsnet of pale primrose colour, made high; the body full, but drawn to fit the shape by several longitudinal rows, and fastens behind; the epaulette and cuff are full, and arranged en bouffants by the drawings, at the bottom of the skirt is a trimming of gauze, formed into bouffants by perpendicular satin stripes.

EVENING DRESS.

Dress of bright Spanish green tulle, trimmed with the same material and with satin, and worn over a satin slip of the same colour. The corsage is made plain, with a Farinet tucker of white tulle; the folds tastefully confined by six small rosettes of satin ribbon, equi-distant, one being placed in the centre of the bosom, another at the back, and the remainder at the front and back of the shoulders; the band is of satin, and the waist is rather short. The sleeve is moderately long, and very full, and has four satin rouleaus, ornamented half way with a circlet of French folds, where the fulness of the sleeve is collected. At the bottom of the skirt is a very full trimming of tulle, in reversed plaitings, set in a satin frame; to the band are. attached satin spikes, which extend rather more than half way.

BALL DRESS.

Over a gossamer satin slip is worn a dress of Urling's patent lace, beautifully finished at the border with large puffings of net, confined in bias wavings by straps of white satin; above this, light and novel trimming, which forms a combination of richness and simplicity, is a full rouleau of white satin en

twined with heading; and next the hem is a row of lace, with points a la Vandyck next the shoe. The corsage is of whitesatin, and is made in the Anglo-Greek style; the antique robings on each side of the stomacher finished by net puffings, to correspond with the border of the petticoat: the bust finished by a falling tucker of Vandyke lace. The sleeves. short, but not quite so full as they were worn last month; they are ornamented to answer the other parts of the dress,

WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM, UNDER A DRAWING
REPRESENTING A WEEPING FEMALE WATCH-
ING A CHILD AT PRAYER.

That dewy eye, whose fringed lid
Just shades its beautious orb of blue,-
That upturn'd forehead, almost hid

By glossy locks of golden hue,—
Those rosy hands with fervour prest,

And stretch'd devoutly tow'rd the sky-
That quivering lip-that heaving breast,
Which throbs in holy ecstasy,—
Tell that the spotless innocent
Breathes a petition to his God,
While angels' wings are kindly lent
To bear it to their blest abode.

Sweet boy! pour forth thy guileless pray'r
And let its incense mount to Heaven;
For sure to one so pure and fair
No harsh refusal can be given.
Oh, might his infant orison

Find grace before the Alrighty throne,
Oh, might the virtues of my son

For all his mother's faults atone.
With hopes of heavenly bliss elate,
In welcome death I'd close my eyes,
Sure that we here should separate
Only to meet in Paradise.

BEAUTY-A PORTRAIT;

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

Every body thinks the pretty Mrs. D→→→ agreeable, except her husband; and he, good man, to do him justice, and not to speak of beauty too lightly, resisted conviction with all becoming obstinacy and gallantry. Every charm of his wife's face and person supplied him in its turn with weapons, sword and shield, against every effort she made to disenchant herself. Her eyes served him for many a day as a sure artillery against all that she chose to say, or not to say. She had no tastes or feelings in common with him; but then her complexion! It required almost six months to convince him, that this was not an excuse for her falling asleep when he was reading Guy Mannering to her. He took shelter behind her legs, for I know not how long, against an idle habit she had of never being serious, except when called upon to understand a joke. He found an answer to his wit in her ancles; her foot was a repartee for a month; and after heavy weeks of unmitigated dulness and empty trifling, he still looked upon her lips as eloquence. She drove him at length, however, from all his positions and defences, and he is now certified that his wife is a fool.

Now an ill-conditioned countenance, accompanied, as it always is of course, with shining abilities, and all the arts of pleasing, has this signal compensation; that it improves under observation, grows less and less objectionable the more you look into it and the better you know it; till it becomes almost agreeable on its own account-nay, really so-actually pretty: whereas beauty, we have seen, witless beauty, cannot resist the test of long acqaintance, but declines, as you gaze, while in the full pride of its perfection; fades on the eye, and palls upon the sense," with all its bloom about it. Talents bribe and bias the judgment in favour of ordinary features, in the same manner that it is sometimes bewitched by beauty in behalf of folly; with this distinction, that in the first case the error, once formed, knows no change; and in the other is but a passing dream-the mistake of a month-the fascination of a honey-moon.

I may illustrate this point, I hope, without the charge of irreverence, by some notice of our sentiments with regard to brute animals, who, whatever may be their own convictions, are, in our opinions, distinguished by great personal contrasts, many gradations of comeliness, and striking differences of feeling and intelligence. I went the other day to visit a collection of wild beasts, which had just arrived in a retired country town, where, being quite new to most of the people, they were received with eager curiosity. The first word uttered by every one on his entrance into the place of exhibition, was some expression of sudden and irresistible disgust at the elephant-that monster of matter, and miracle of mind, as Buffon calls it-an animal that nature seems to have only half made; the sketch, the rough-draught of a brute; a mass of deformity rendered hideous by a resemblance only to life-like the sculptor's statue just visible in the block; or some creature that a child might scrawl upon paper. Look at his clubbed, post-like legs! What a foot and ancle! And then his tail!if ever a tail were ignominious, it is his: and mercy!-his carcase!mean with all its magnitude, his hogged back -sneaking haunches and rugged, sooty, stony, hidea hay-stack set upon piles, or the waggon that incloses him, might as soon be mistaken for a living being. Loathsome! frightful! dreadful! such was the style of comment

that escaped from the mouths of men and ing conscience-a preposterous shadow,lengthenwomen, as they cast a hasty and scornful glance ing in the noon-tide of your prosperity,—an unupon this wise brute of the east. They then welcome remembrancer, a perpetually recurcrowded about the dens of the other beasts, and ing mortification,-a drain on your purse,—a nothing was heard but exclamations of delight most intolerable dun upon your pride,—a drawand admiration at the grand mane of the lion, back upon success,-a rebuke to your rising,the rich spotted skin of the tiger, and the daz- a stain in your blood,—a blot on your scutcheon, -a rent in your garment,-a death's head at zling stripes of the zebra. It was curious to observe how soon this feeling subsided, how your banquet,-Agathocles' pot,-a Mordecai soon the interest of mere colour and form was in your gate,-a Lazarus at your door,-a lion exhausted, and lost in satiety-indifference in your path,- -a frog in your chamber,-a fly disregard. In the mean time, a little group in your ointment,-a mote in your eye, a trithat have recovered from the hurry of their first umph to your enemy, an apology to your impressions, and are in a state to receive the friends, the one thing not needful, the hail in truth, assemble about the poor patient piece of harvest,-the ounce of sour in a pound of sweet, overgrown awkwardness, whom we have just so the bore par excellence. He is known by his knock. Your heart telmuch abused the calumniated elephant. He begins to be found out-he has had time to un-leth you "That is Mr. ———.” A rap, between fold himself, and his party every moment in- familiarity and respect; that demands, and, at creases now a deserter from the lion, and now the same time, seems to despair of, entertainHe holdeth out his hand to shake, and-draweth a turn-coat from the tiger, come over to his ment. He entereth smiling, and-embarrassed. it back again. He casually looketh in about to go away, seeing you have company-but is dinner time-when the table is full. He offereth induced to stay. He filleth a chair, and your visitor's two children are accommodated at a side table. He never cometh upon open days, when your wife says with some complacency, "My dear, perhaps Mr. will drop in today." He remembereth birth-days-and profess seth he is fortunate to have stumbled upon one. He declareth against fish, the turbot being small

yet suffereth himself to be importuned into a slice against his first resolution. He sticketh by the port-yet will be prevailed upon to empty the remainder glass of claret,-if a stranger press it upon him. He is a puzzle to the servants, who are fearful of being too obsequious, or not civil enough, to him. The guests think "they have seen him before." Every one speculateth upon his condition; and the most part take him to be-a tide-waiter. He calleth you

side, till at last the whole company, who had so lately combined to vilify him, are jostling and and share his notice. No one talks of his unelbowing one another, to witness his sagacity sightliness now; his intelligence, his gentle manners, and kind, communicative, eye, have won all hearts: he is the sole favourite the pet of the show. The miracles of his trunk-exercise alone are worth all the lions in the world, and the zebras to boot. Observe with what mixed propriety, handiness, and grace, he turns, and curves, and curls, that wonderful instrument, which can knock down a house, or pick up a pin! See with what politeness and tenderness he gives his keeper the wall!-a horse would tread upon your toes and say nothing; but he knows his own weight and your worth better. Look at him! a lamb in every thing but littleness-like Elia's giantess, "he goeth mincingly"-being nine thousand six hundred pounds weight. And is this a creature to be despised for his hide? No, no-the women now are patting his iron sides, and think him by your Christian name, to imply that his other "really not so very ugly," they coax him, and is the same with your own. But for his familiarjoke, and laugh with him, and pull out their ity, he might pass for a casual dependent; with halfpence ungrudgingly, to buy him cakes, and more boldness, he would be in no danger of see him eat them. Now, ma'am, observe," being taken for what he is. He is too humble says the keeper-and straight he pokes a biscuit for a friend, yet takes on him more state than into that droll little puckered mouth of his, like befits a client. He is a worse guest than a a letter into a letter-box-and that is all you country tenant, inasmuch as he bringeth up no have for your penny. And now a mother trusts rent-yet 'tis odds, from his garb and demeanour, her infant to his keeping; he cradles it in a bend that your other guests take him for one. He is of his trunk, and stands motionless, like a figure asked to make one at the whist table; refuseth of patience and paternal love. The child on the score of poverty, and-resents being left screams, and he hears and understands; nay, out. When the company break up, he profferfear not, he would not, his eye swears to you eth to go for a coach-and lets the servant go. he would not, harm it, for his liberty. There He recollects your grandfather; and will thrust is no standing this-bursts of applause "noble in some mean, and quite unimportant anecdote brute"-" generous animal"-"tender soul"-of-the family. He knew it when it was not came quick from all tongues; nay, as a climax to his triumph, even pretty creature," is not spared, so true it is that, "handsome is, that handsome does." To pursue the parallel to the utmost of its bearing on my subject, I may state that this affectionate admiration was not more lively than it will be durable. The good folks will soon forget the lion's mane and the zebra's stripes; but their interchange of kindly thoughts and kindly acts with the elephant, are matters of the head and heart, and are not to be forgotten.-Lond. Mag.

POOR RELATIONS.

A Poor Relation is—the most irrelevant thing in nature, a piece of impertinent correspondency,- -an odious approximation,-a haunt

quite so flourishing as "he is blest in seeing it now." He reviveth past situations, to institute what he calleth-favourable comparisons. With a reflecting sort of congratulation, he will inquire the price of your furniture; and insults you with a special commendation of your window-curtains. He is of opinion that the urn is the more elegant shape, but, after all, there was something more comfortable about the old tea-kettle-which you must remember. He dare say you must find a great convenience in having a carriage of your own, and appealeth to your lady if it is not so. Inquireth if you have had your arms done on vellum yet; and did not know till lately, that such-and-such had been the crest of the family. His memory is unseasonable; his compliments perverse; his talk a trouble; his stay pertinacious; and when he goeth away, you dismiss his chair into a cor

There is a worse evil under the sun, and that is a female Poor Relation. You may do something with the other; you may pass him off tolerably well; but your indigent she-Relative is hopeless. "He is an old humourist," you may say, "and affects to go threadbare His circumstances are better than folks would take them to be. You are fond of having a character at your table, and truly he is one." But in the indications of female poverty there can be no disguise. No woman dresses below herself from caprice. The truth must out without shuffling. "She is plainly related to the Ls; or what does she at their house." She is, in all probability, your wife's cousin. Nine times out of ten, at least, this is the case. Her garb is something between a gentlewoman and a beggar, yet the former evidently predominates. She is most provokingly humble, and ostentatiously sensible to her inferiority. He may require to be repressed sometimes-aliquando suffluminandus erat-but there is no raising her. You send her soup at dinner, and she begs to be helped-after the gentlemen. Mr. requests the honour of taking wine with her; she hesitates between Port and Madeira, and chooses the formerbecause he does. She calls the servant Sir; and insists on not troubling him to hold her plate. (Written on seeing Sharpe's Picture of the Covent The housekeeper patronizes her. The children's governess takes upon her to correct her, when she has mistaken the piano for a harpsichord.Lond. Mag.

peare; his Malvolio is bad, his Sir Andrew worseand his Lancelot and his Launces are but middling. Even any stock part is not fit for him. His Acres his Tony Lumpkin-are but so-so ; but then bis Liston! Truly that makes up, and more than makes up, for all. See him in Nicholas Twill-in Lubin Log-mere variations on the thema Liston-species of the genus Liston. See him in Lord Grizzle, which he, not Fielding, has made; see him in these-his property-his creations ;-see him in these, and you will acknowledge, with the rest of the world, that Dryden's line ceases to be paradox and fustian; in very truth, none but himself can be his parallel."!

A little farther back, and more to the right of the picture, is an exquisite portrait of Mrs. Davenport, as the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet. I have already wished that Shakspeare could rise from the dead to hear Miss Stephens sing he ought to see Mrs. Davenport play the Nurse, also. It is no mean praise to say of any performance, that it embodies, in the most exact and perfect manner, a conception of Shakspeare. It shews a deep insight into the minutiae of his meaning, that argues no common order of mind in its possessor. And nothing can, by possibility, be more admirable, than the manner in which Mrs. Davenport plays this part; -nor this alone, but every part I ever saw her inbut I cite this in particular, both from her being drawn in it, and from its being her great Shakspearian effort. Nothing is so easy as to play Mrs. Davenport's line of characters tolerably-nothing is so difficult as to play. them finely. I am not sure whether the indescribable touch of genius is not more strongly shewn by making that which is bearable when middling, exceedingly. fine-than it is in higher and more ambitious matters. I do not use the word "genius" lightly-but I am not one of those exclusive persons who would confine it to one narrow and peculiar class of things. Comic but it is genius still. What makes people so rarely genius is, I grant, of an inferior order to tragic genius, think of applying the word to comedy, is, that exceedingly good comic acting and writing may be reached without any genius at all, while tragic writing and acting, without genius, is abominable. Nobody, I think, who can discern genius, will deny its strong display in Mrs. Davenport's Mrs. Malaprop-in her Mrs. Heidelberg-in short, in any part where the auing; but perhaps its very perfection makes her merit thor gives room for it to work. All delight in her actless loudly acknowledged than it should be, from herself being so totally kept out of view,so completely sunken in the assumed character. I was delighted to hear, not long ago, a gentleman in the same box with me, exclaim on her going out, after having played a scene in the first style-"Egad, she's Garrick in. petticoats!"-Albums bir had adr it 10000