they are crowded together and justled in the dust what parsimony is observed in doling out a scanty nook; a gloomy corner; a little portion of earth, to those, whom, when alive, kingdoms could not satisfy and how many shapes, and forms and artifices, are devised to catch the casual notice of the passenger, and save from forgetfulness, for a few short years, a name which once aspired to occupy ages of the world's thought and admiration. tions. lous, yet where every form is so still and gibbering yell of triumph, bursting from disgust and dismay, but of sorrow and me ditation. While wandering about these gloomy vaults and silent aisles, studying the record of the dead, the sound of busy existence from without occasionally reaches the ear; the rumbling of the passing equipagethe murmur of the multitude; or perhaps the light laugh of pleasure. The contrast and it has a strange effect upon the feelings, thus to hear the surges of active life hurrying along and beating against the very wals of the sepulchre. I paused to contemplate a tomb on which lay the effigy of a knight in complete armour. A large buckler was on one arm; the hands were pressed together in supplication upon the breast; the face was almost covered by the morion; the legs were I passed some time in Poet's Corner, crossed in token of the warrior's having which occupies an end of one of the tran- been engaged in the holy war. It was the septs or cross aisles of the Abbey. The tomb of a crusader; of one of those milimonuments are generally simple; for the tary enthusiasts, who so strangely mingled lives of literary men afford no striking religion and romance, and whose exploits themes for the sculptor. Shakspeare and form the connecting link between fact and Addison have statues erected to their me- fiction; between the history and the fairy mories; but the greater part have busts, tale. There is something extremely pictu-is striking with the deathlike repose around: medallions, and sometimes mere inscrip-resque in the tombs of these adventurers, Notwithstanding the simplicity of decorated as they are with rude armorial these memorials, I have always observed bearings and gothic sculpture. They comthat the visitors to the Abbey remain port with the antiquated chapels in which longest about them. A kinder and fond- they are generally found; and, in consider- I continued in this way to move from er feeling takes place of that cold curi-ing them, the imagination is apt to kindle tomb to tomb, and from chapel to chapel. osity or vague admiration with which with the legendery associations, the roman- The day was gradually wearing away; the they gaze on the splendid monuments tic fictions, the chivalrous pomp and pa- distant tread of loiterers about the abbey of the great and the heroic. They geantry which poetry has spread over the grew less and less frequent; the sun had linger about these as about the tombs of the wars for the sepulchre of Christ. They poured his last ray through the lofty winfriends and companions; for indeed there are the reliques of times utterly gone by; dows; the sweet tongued bell was summonis something of companionship between the of beings passed from recollection; of cus-ing to evening prayers; and I saw at a disauthor and the reader. Other men are toms and manners with which our's have tance the choristers, in their white surplices, known to posterity only through the me- no affinity. They are like objects from crossing the aisle and entering the choir. dium of history, which is continually grow- some strange and distant land, of which we I stood before the entrance to Henry the ing faint and obscure; but the intercourse have no certain knowledge, and about which Seventh's chapel. A flight of steps leads between the author and his fellow-men is all our conceptions are vague and visionary. up to it, through a deep and gloomy, but ever new, active and immediate. He has There is something extremely solemn and magnificent arch. Great gates of brass, lived for them more than for himself; he awful in those effigies on gothic tombs, ex- richly and delicately wrought, turn heavy has sacrificed surrounding enjoyments, and tended as if in the sleep of death, or in the upon their hinges, as if proudly reluctant to shut himself up from the delights of social supplication of the dying hour. They have admit the feet of common mortals into this life, that he might the more intimately com- an effect infinitely more impressive on most gorgeous of sepulchres. mune with distant minds and distant ages my feelings than the fancied attitudes, Well may the world cherish his renown; the over-wrought conceits, and allegorical for it has been purchased, not by deeds of groups, which abound on modern monuviolence and blood, but by the diligent dis-ments. I have been struck, also, with the pensation of pleasure. Well may posterity superiority of many of the old sepulchral be grateful to his memory; for he has left inscriptions. There was a noble way, in it an inheritance, not of empty names and former times, of saying things simply, and sounding actions, but whole treasures of yet saying them proudly; and I do not wisdom, bright gems of thought, and golden know an epitaph that breathes a loftier conveins of language. sciousness of family worth and honourable From Poet's Corner I continued my stroll lineage, than one which affirms, of a noble towards that part of the abbey which con-house, that "all the brothers were brave, tains the sepulchres of the kings. I wan- and all the sisters virtuous." Along the sides of the chapel are the dered among what once were chapels, but In the opposite transept to Poet's Corner lofty stalls of the Knights of the Bath which are now occupied by the tombs stands a monument which is among the richly carved of oak, though with the gro and monuments of the great. At every most renowned achievements of modern tesque decorations of gothic architecture. turn I met with some illustrious name; or art; but which, to me, appears horrible On the pinnacles of the stalls are affixed the cognizance of some powerful house rather than sublime. It is the tomb of Mrs. the helmets and crests of the knights, with As the eye darts Nightingale, by Roubillac. The bottom of their scarfs and swords; and above them into these dusky chambers of death, it the monument is represented as throwing are suspended their banners, emblazoned catches glimpses of quaint effigies; some open its marble doors, and a sheeted skele- with armorial bearings, and contrasting the kneeling in niches, as if in devotion; others ton is starting forth. The shroud is falling splendour of gold and purple and crimson. stretched upon the tombs, with hands pious- from his fleshless frame as he launches his with the cold gray fretwork of the roof. In ly pressed together; warriors in armour, dart at his victim. as if reposing after battle; prelates with affrighted husband's arms, who strives, with the sepulchre of its founder, his effigy. She is sinking into her the midst of this grand mausoleum stands i croziers and mitres; and nobles in robes vain and frantic effort, to avert the blow. with that of his queen, and coronets, lying as it were in state. In The whole is executed with terrible truth tuous tomb, and the whole surrounded by glancing over this scene, so strangely popu- and spirit; we almost fancy we hear the lofty and superbly wrought brazen railing. On entering, the eye is astonished by the pomp of architecture, and the elaborate beauty of sculptured detail. The very walls are wrought into universal ornat encrusted with tracery, and scooped isto niches, crowded with the statues of saints and martyrs. Stone seems, by the cunning labour of the chisel, to have been robbed of its weight and density, suspended aloft as if by magic, and the fretted root achieved with the wonderful minuteness and airy security of a cobweb. a extended on a sump ご dually prevailing around, gave a deeper and incongruous mementos had been gathered more solemn interest to the place: For in the silent grave no conversation, There is a sad dreariness in this magnificence; this strange mixture of tombs and together as a lesson to living greatness?trophies; these emblems of living and asto show it, even in the moment of its piring ambition, close beside mementos proudest exaltation, the neglect and diswhich show the dust and oblivion in which honour to which it must soon arrive; how e all must sooner or later terminate. Nosoon that crown which encircles its brow thing impresses the mind with a deeper feelmust pass away; and it must lie down in ing of loneliness, than to tread the silent Suddenly the notes of the deep labouring the dust and disgraces of the tomb, and be sad deserted scene of former throng and organ burst upon the ear, falling with trampled upon by the feet of the meanest pageant. On looking round on the vacant doubled and redoubled intensity, and rol- of the multitude. For, strange to tell, even stalls of the knights and their esquires; and ling, as it were, huge billows of sound. the grave is here no longer a sanctuary. on the rows of dusty but gorgeous banners How well do their volume and grandeur There is a shocking levity in some natures, that were once borne before them, my accord with this mighty building! With which leads them to sport with awful and imagination conjured up the scene when what pomp do they swell through its vast hallowed things; and there are base minds, this hall was bright with the valour and vaults, and breathe their awful harmony which delight to revenge on the illustrious beauty of the land; glittering with the through these caves of death, and make the dead the abject homage and grovelling sersplendour of jewelled rank and military silent sepulchre vocal!-And now they rise vility which they pay to the living. The array; alive with the tread of many feet in triumphant acclamation, heaving higher coffin of Edward the Confessor has been and the hum of an admiring multitude. and higher their accordant notes, and piling broken open, and his remains despoiled of All had passed away: the silence of death sound on sound. And now they pause, their funeral ornaments; the sceptre has t had settled again upon the place; interrup-and the soft voices of the choir break out been stolen from the hand of the imperious ted only by the casual chirping of birds, into sweet gushes of melody; they soar Elizabeth, and the effigy of Henry the which had found their way into the chapel, aloft, and warble along the roof, and seem Fifth lies headless. Not a royal monument and built their nests among its friezes and to play about these lofty vaults like the pure but bears some proof how false and fugitive pendants-sure signs of solitariness and de-airs of heaven. Again the pealing organ is the homage of mankind. Some are plunsertion. When I read the names inscribed heaves its thrilling thunders, compressing dered; some mutilated; some covered with on the banners, they were those of men air into music, and rolling it forth upon the ribaldry and insult-all more or less outscattered far and wide about the world; soul. What long-drawn cadences!-What raged and dishonoured. some tossing upon distant seas; some under solemn sweeping concords! It grows more The last beams of day were now faintly arms in distant lands; some mingling in the and more dense and powerful-it fills the streaming through the painted windows in busy intrigues of courts and cabinets: all vast pile, and seems to jar the very walls- the high vaults above me the lower parts secking to deserve one more distinction in the ear is stunned-the senses are over- of the abbey were already wrapped in the this mansion of shadowy honours; the me-whelmed. And now it is winding up in full obscurity of twilight. The chapels and lancholy reward of a monument. jubilee-it is rising from the earth to hea- aisles grew darker and darker. The effiTwo small aisles on each side of this cha-ven-the very soul seems rapt away and gies of the kings faded into shadows; the pel present a touching instance of the floated upwards on this swelling tide of marble figures of the monuments assumed equality of the grave; which brings down harmony! strange shapes in the uncertain light; the the oppressor to a level with the oppressed, I sat for some time lost in that kind of evening breeze crept through the aisles like and mingles the dust of the bitterest ene- reverie which a strain of music is apt some-the cold breath of the grave; and even the mies together. In one is the sepulchre of times to inspire: the shadows of evening distant footfall of a verger, traversing the the haughty Elizabeth, in the other is that of her victim, the lovely and unfortunate Mary. Not an hour in the day but some ejaculation of pity is uttered over the fate of the latter, mingled with indignation at er oppressor. The walls of Elizabeth's sepulchre continually echo with the sighs of sympathy heaved at the grave of her rival. were gradually thickening around me; the Poets' Corner, had something strange and dreary in its sound. I slowly retraced my morning's walk, and as I passed out of the portal of the cloisters, the door, closing with a jarring noise behind me, filled the whole building with echoes. I rose and prepared to leave the abbey. As I descended the flight of steps which lead into the body of the building, my eye I endeavoured to form some arrangewas caught by the shrine of Edward the ment in my mind of the objects I had been Confessor, and I ascended the small staircase contemplating, but found they were already A peculiar melancholy reigns over the that conducts to it, to take from thence a falling into indistinctness and confusion. isle where Mary lies buried. The light general survey of this wilderness of tombs. Names, inscriptions, trophies, had all become truggles dimly through windows darkened The shrine is elevated upon a kind of plat-confounded in my recollection, though I had y dust. The greater part of the place is form, and close around it are the sepulchres scarcely taken my foot from off the thresha deep shadow, and the walls are stained of various kings and queens. From this hold. What, thought I, is this vast assemnd tinted by time and weather. A marble eminence the eye looks down between pil-blage of sepulchres but a treasury of humiigure of Mary is stretched upon the tomb, lars and funereal trophies to the chapels and liation; a huge pile of reiterated homilies ound which is an iron railing, much corro- chambers below, crowded with tombs; on the emptiness of renown, and the cerled, bearing her national emblem the this- where warriors, prelates, courtiers and tainty of oblivion! It is, indeed, the empire le. I was weary with wandering, and sat statesmen lie mouldering in their "beds of of death; his great shadowy palace; where lown to rest myself by the monument, re- darkness." Close by me stood the great he sits in state, mocking at the reliques of olving in my mind the chequered and dis- chair of coronation, rudely carved of oak, human glory, and spreading dust and forgetstrous story of poor Mary. in the barbarous taste of a remote and fulness on the monuments of princes. How The sound of casual footsteps had ceased gothic age. The scene seemed almost as if idle a boast, after all, is the immortality of om the abbey. I could only hear, now contrived, with theatrical artifice, to pro-a name! Time is ever silently turning over nd then, the distant voice of the priest, duce an effect upon the beholder. Here his pages; we are too much engrossed by epeating the evening service, and the faint was a type of the beginning and the end of the story of the present, to think of the esponses of the choir; these paused for a human pomp and power; here it was lite- characters and anecdotes that gave interest ime, and all was hushed. The stillness, rally but a step from the throne to the se- to the past; and each age is a volume thrown he desertion and obscurity that were gra- pulchre. Would not one think that these aside to be speedily forgotten. The idol of to-day pushes the hero of yesterday out of our recollection; and will, in turn, be supplanted by his successor of to-morrow. "Our fathers," says Sir Thomas Brown, "find their graves in our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be buried in our survivors." History fades into fable; fact becomes clouded with doubt and controversy: the inscription moulders from the tablet; the statute falls from the pedes tal. Columns, arches, pyramids, what are they but heaps of sand; and their epitaphs, but characters writen in the dust? What is the security of a tomb, or the perpetuity. of an embalment? The remains of Alexander the Great have been scattered to the wind, and his empty sarcophagus is now the mere curiosity of a museum. "The Egyptian mummies, which Cambyses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth; Mizraim cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for balsams." What then is to insure this pile which now towers above me from sharing the fate of other mausoleums? The time must come when its gilded vaults, which now spring so loftily, shall lie in rubbish beneath the feet; when, instead of the sound of melody and praise, the wind shall whistle through the broken arches, and the owl hoot from the shattered tower; when the garish sun-beam shall break into those gloomy mansions of death; and the ivy twine round the fallen column; and the foxglove hang its blossoms about the nameless urn, as if in mockery of the dead. Thus man passes away; his name perishes from record and recollection; his history is as a tale that is told, and his very monument becomes a ruin. LEPROSY. There is near to the walls of Morocco, about the northwest point, a village, called the Village of Lepers. I had a curiosity to visit it; but I was told that any other excursion would be preferable; that the Lepers were totally excluded from the rest of mankind; and that, although none of them would dare to approach us, yet the excursion would be not only unsatisfactory but disgusting. I was, however, determined to go; I mounted my horse, and took two horse guards with me, and my own servant. We rode through the Lepers' town; the inhabitants collected at the doors of their habitations, but did not approach us; they, for the most part, showed no external disfiguration, but were generally sallow. Some of the young women were very handsome; they have, however, a paucity of eyebrow, which it must be allowed, is somewhat incompatible with beauty; some few had no eyebrows at all, which completely destroyed the effect of their dark animated eyes. They are obliged to wear a large straw hat, with a brim about nine inches wide; this is their badge of separation, a token of division between the clean and the unclean, which, when seen in the country or on the road, prevents any one from having personal contact with them. They are allowed to beg, and accordingly are seen by the sides of the roads, with their straw hat badge, and a wooden bowl before them, to receive the charity of passengers, exclaiming Bestow on me the property of God:" "All belongs to God!" reminding the passenger that he is a steward, and accountable for the appropriation of his property; that he derives his property from the bounty and favour of God. When any one gives them money, they pronounce a blessing on him; as "May God increase your good," &c. The province of Haha abounds in lepers; and it is said that the Arganic oil, which is much used in food throughout this picturesque province, promotes this loathsome disease.-Jackson's Morocco. Oh, most delightful hour of man Experienced here below, The hour that terminates his span, Worlds should not bribe me back to tread To see again my day o'erspread He was a man, among the few, And all his strength from Scripture drew, That rule he prized, by that he feared, But when his heart had roved. And evil felt within ; But when he felt it, heaved a sigh, Call'd up from Earth to Heaven, His joys be mine! each reader cries, They shall be yours, my verse replies, MISS BRIDGET ADAIR. Miss Bridget Adair lived up one pair of stairs, And, though lovely and fair, had seen thirty years, But it happened one May-day (the morning was fine), She heard in her passage a tread ;' It was just as the clock of St. Ann's had gone nine, The tread it drew nearer, the knocker it stirr'd, What! for me does he die,' said the love-stricken mail, She adjusted her gown, put a cap on her head, At length he address'd her in this killing strain, And here are the silks which you sent me to stain, Of a beautiful mazarine blue." Ah me! disappointed, and nearly in tears, Standing still, with a gape and a stare, You would hardly have thought, had you known her fore The mystery which has so long enveloped the rai person of this great genius, continues to exist withe any satisfactory elucidation. Sir Walter Scott, from h known connexion with the celebrated novels written by the author of Waverley, from the character of his mind and conversation, and various other circumstances, ba been considered in Europe to be able without doubt remove the curtain of concealment. Mr. Scott, however always, we hear, denies the credit of being the auther of the works in question; and even his own family know nothing certain upon the subject. The Reviews and other periodical publications in England and Scotland familiarly prefix his name to the novels, though he refuses to do it himself. Some years ago, reports were circulated with conf dence, that the author of Waverley lives in Canada, 2 that he is a brother of Walter Scott, and that "his bag This Gentleman is paymaster of a British regiment sometimes stationed at Kingst tismal name is Thomas." and sometimes in other parts of Canada. The tran atlantic confessions, mentioned by the British Quarter Review, in an article on Old Mortality, and other Tales of My Landlord, referred to the supposed admission of some of Mr. Thomas Scott's family, that he was the mighty magician, so long sought for in vain. If that article, and it was so asserted, were written by Sir Walter Scott himself, there can be little doubt of the truth of the supposition, respecting his brother. The following extracts of letters from a very respectable gentleman in Canada, to his friend in the United States, have recently been put into our hands. They are evidently written with carelessness, but may serve to throw some light upon this subject of curiosity. We can assure out readers, there is no doubt of the genuineDess of the extracts. We have published these paragraphs, just as we reeived them, for the satisfaction of our friends, and the pr question is, can the relation contained in them be accurate? To deny this, involves the difficulty of supposing that one or two gentlemen have intended to deceive mankind by a false account. The confession of Mr. Thomas 12 Scott, that he wrote the Antiquary, and the assertion of he writer, that he saw the work in manuscript in this country, at once establish the author of Waverley, for the Antiquary on the face of its title page was written by the author of Waverley. If such should be the conclusion of any one, perhaps it may be reasonable to suppose Mr. Thomas Scott the author of Waverley, Guy Mannering, the Antiquary, Ivanhoe, &c. while Sir Walter Scott may have amused the world with writing the Tales of My Landlord. THE WANT OF A PENNY. (From a French journal.) "York, 12th December, 1818. "With respect to those new publications, Rob Roy &c. I have no hesitation in saying I believe them to be the production of the Scotts. I say the Scotts, because Mr. Thomas Scott (who wrote the principal part of them) to conceive the vexations to which one may be exposed For want of a penny in one's pocket, it is impossible was often assisted by Mrs. Scott, and the works were in all places, but certainly no where more than in Pagenerally revised by his brother Walter, before going to ris. Nothing can plead more forcibly in favour of ecopress. The Antiquary I can answer for particularly, be-nomy than the following narrative, which we extract from a French journal, for the benefit of those who cause Mr. Thomas Scott told me himself that he wrote it, visit Paris. a very few days after it appeared in this country. Any "Anxious to find the minister, from whom I was person who had the least intimacy with the Paymaster about to solicit a favour for my best friend, I left home would at once recognize him as the author of those ce- Pont-des-Arts*, however, soon reminded me of my in a hurry, and forgot my purse. The keeper of the lebrated works. The same native humour, the same cast neglect; and, as mere civillty is not accounted good of expression, and that intimate acquaintance with the payment there, more than elsewhere, I turned back, Scottish manners and Scottish annals, which are in almost in order to pass over the Pont-neuf. One of those artists who take their station on the boot-path, proevery page of those works, could be traced in his own posed to brush the dust off my boots for a penny. I conversation, by any person of the least observation.-passed on, and pretended not to hear him. On reach Besides this, I have often heard Mrs. Scott dascribe the ing his Excellency's house, I learnt that he had set out very originals from whom the principal characters are just while I was going round by the Pont-Neuf. My for his country seat about five minutes before, namely, drawn. The Antiquary himself was an intimate ac-friend was anxiously waiting his appointment! Vexed quaintance of the Paymaster; his name I have now for- by this unlucky accident, I mechanically sought for gotten, but he lived in Dumfries: and that finely-drawn something to divert my spirits. I drew out my snuffcharacter, Dominie Sampson, was an old college ac-box; but, to my mortification, it was empty, and I am not in the habit of running in debt at the tobacquaintance. Flora M'Ivor's character was written en- conist's. tirely by Mrs. Scott herself. I have seen several of the manuscripts in Mr. Scott's possession, of his other works; but I do not recollect seeing any of the novels in ma * With the school and my studies, my time is so takennuscript except the Antiquary. I am pretty certain that up that you must excuse the shortness of this letter. Besides those occupations, I am engaged every evening at Mr. Scott's, in superintending the education of the two young ladies. Never was there a more amiable family. Mrs. Scott is a woman of the first accomplishments: I do not mean those trifling, superficial accomplishments, acquired at the generality of boarding schools, but those solid literary acquirements of which few women can boast the possession. It is said (and from what I can observe I think with truth) that she wrote a great part of Guy Mannering. To her and her husband, we are without doubt indebted for Waverley also. He has read to me several of his poetical productions, little inferior, in my opinion, to his brother's. You may suppose I am quite delighted as well as improved by such society. Manners improved and polished in the first circles of Britain, and a personal acquaintance with almost every poet and literary character of modern date, must make their acquaintance universally sought after. But their society is quite circumscribed, for reasons well known to any one, who had any acquaintance with the Kingston gentry. The daughters are just following the steps of their mother, and have not their equal in this place or in any other part of Canada, I think, for literary acquirements." "York, 10th July, 1817. "Have you read Scott's last work, The Antiquary? I have the happiness of being intimately acquainted with the author, and his amiable family, and it is to me of course doubly interesting. It is inferior, however, I think, to Waverley and Guy Mannering, but in some of its scenes, far before any work of the kind that I have ever read. The funeral at the fisherman's hut, for instance, nothing can surpass Many of its characters are drawn from real life, and with the original of the Antiquary, Mr. Scott was intimately acquainted. I think it is the last work of the kind we shall have from him. He is now only the "ruins of a noble frame," the wreck of what he was. He used to talk of beginning a work, the scenes of which were principally to be laid in this country. No one could better succeed. I am going to Niagara soon, where he is now stationed with the regiment. I will find out whether there is any probability of its being finished. it his own hand-writing. I had not heard that these works were imputed to any other person until you mentioned it." The Philanthropist. MRS. FRY. "I walked slowly on, and a miserable picture soon attracted my notice. A wretched family, stretched on them a single penny. Alas! I was even poorer than the street, in a state of starvation, implored me to give they. Raising my eyes to heaven, I discovered a slight degree of darkness. I was about to enquire the cause, when a little boy begged me to look at the eclipse through his smoked glass for a penny. In spite of my curiosity I walked on, and postponed for twenty-seven years, the pleasure which I might have enjoyed at the present moment. "Plunged in melancholy reflections, my attention was soon attracted by a man running, out of breath, and roaring Voila la liste! I recollected that I had ventured to purchase a ticket in the lottery; but unluckily I could not, at that moment, conveniently ascertain whether or not, Fortune had ceased to perThat practical Christian, Mrs. Fry, of London, to secute me. I continued to walk on, but was soon whom humanity is so much indebted for her works of stopped by a real Carbonare, who was sweeping the benevolence, visited Liverpool during the past week, unable to fulfil the second condition, I was resolved to streets; passez, payez, he exclaimed. Being totally and renewed her attentions to the unfortunate prisoners evade the first; and I escaped with a hearty splashing. in our jails. On Sunday she attended, as usual, the publication of the new ordinance relative to sub-pre"Meanwhile an uproar in the street announced the meeting-house of her fellow-christians, the Society of fects, in which one of my old college-companions was Friends. Her intention of being there had been ru- deeply interested. I was all anxiety to learn the parmoured throughout the town on the preceding day, and ticulars; but what was my mortification when the felwe are gratified in stating, as a fact highly honourable low whe was selling the ordinance roared out, with Stentorian lungs, that its price was only one penny. both to the fair philanthropist and to our enlightened Vexed beyond all endurance at these successive disaptownsmen, that the crowded congregation which as-pointments, I entered a church, where I hoped to sembled to hear her, comprised many of the mostjoy a little rest, while, at the same time I fulfilled respectable and opulent families of Liverpool, of all pious duty; but I had not been there more than five minutes, when I recollected that there was to be a colreligious denominations. In the afternoon she proceeded lection for the benefit of the poor. I immediately left to Warrington. We would willingly say a few words the church. The museum was at hand: I proceeded on her ministry, her eloquence, and her remarkable voice, thither; but was informed it was necessary to leave which, in the less impassioned parts of her preaching, that when determined to postpone my pleasure till tomy stick at the door. It may naturally be supposed exceeds in sweetness any thing we ever heard; and we morrow, my passion for the fine arts easily accomwould notice, too, the impressive exertions of Mrs. Wat-modated itself to the ill fortune I had experienced son, of Waterford; but as we do not, in the Kaleidoscope, enter into particulars of this kind respecting any religious persons or communities, we must content ourselves with adding, to the respect manifested by our townsmen towards Mrs. Fry, this record of our unfeigned esteem for one who so truly does "Honour to God and good to man." Negro Asylum.-A society has been formed in the republic of Hayti, for the purpose of aiding the free people of colour in the United States, in removing to, and settling in that island. This society is sanctioned by the President, and proposes to raise a subscription for the purpose, and to correspond with the American colonization, and with any other societies, religious or benevolent, which are disposed to aid the object, and provide an asylum for these distressed individuals, throughout the day. Three ladies of my acquaintance alighting, when immediately four flower women thrust their baskets under my nose, and begged of me to buy the ladies a boquet, for only one penny. Like a skilful general, I turned the position, and accompanied my arrived at the door in a coach. I ran to assist them in three friends as far as the vestibule, whence I returned only to fall a prey to the persecutions of the officious fellow who had opened the coach door and let down the steps. However, I soon got rid of him, by replying, with the air of a Cræsus, that I had no change, and the by-standers little suspected the full truth of the assertion. "I now hastened home; and, taking the necessary sum, flew to the saving-bor (equivalent to our excellent saving banks) where I deposited the little capital which will secure to me a revenue of five centinies per day, being, by sad experience, too well convinced of the inconveniences that may arise from the want of a penny." Scientific Records, [Comprehending Notices of new Discoveries or Improvements in Science or Art; including, occasionally, singular Medical Cases; Astronomical, Mechanical, Philosophical, Botanical, Meteorological, and Mineralogical Phenomena, or singular Facts in Natural History; Vegetation, &c.; Antiquities, &c. &c.; to be continued in a Series through the Volume.] pages, LANGUAGES IN THE KNOWN WORLD. PLUMS. Anecdotes. SPIDER TAMED. The Abbé d'Olivet, author of the Life of Pelisson, inserts the following passage: An historical account of fruits has been lately published, in which the author says, "Plums of all kinds are considered more agreeable than wholesome, but like the pear, they lose their bad qualities by baking." Plums in general are moistening, laxative, and emollient, except the bullaces and sloes, which are astringent. They are cooling, quench thirst, and create appetite, and the light of day only penetrated through a mere slit, "Confined at that time in a solitary place, and where therefore agree best with hot constitutions; but they do not sit easy with those that have weak stomachs. In having no other servant than a stupid and dull clown, years that plums are very plentiful, and consequently pipes, Pleisson studied by what means to secure hina basque, who was continually playing on the bag. much eaten, fluxes generally abound; hence it appears that they ought always to be eaten very moderately, and self against an enemy, which a good conscience alone then they should be quite ripe and sound. He states cannot always repel; I'mean the attacks of unemployed M. Frederick Adelung, counsellor of state to the "the green gage to be not only the most agreeable, but imagination, which, when it once exceeds proper Emperor of Russia, has lately published in 153 the most wholesome of all the plums." This plummits, becomes the most cruel torture of a recluse i "A View of all known Languages and their (says Philips) was called the Reine Claude, from having ceiving a spider spinning her web at the spiracle me dividual. He adopted the following stratagem:-Pe Dialects." In this View we find in all, 987 Asiatic, Francis I. of that country, but it now bears various tiened above, he undertook to tame her, and to fre been introduced into France by Queen Claude, wife to 587 European, 276 African, and 1,264 American names in different parts of France. It is often called this, he placed some flies on the edge of the opening, languages and dialects enumerated and classed: a damus verd; at Tours it is named abricot verd; at while the basque was playing on his favourite bag pipe, total of 3,114. This remarkable publication, is Rouen, where it grows abundantly, they call it la verte guish the sound of that instrument, and to run from The spider, by degrees accustomed herself to de only the introduction to a Bibliotheca Glottica, on bonde. This plum received the name of Green Gage which this indefatigable philosopher has been long from the following accident: the Gage family in the her hole to seize her prey; thus, by means of air employed. See Journal of Science, xix. p. 201. last century, procured from the monastery of the Char- calling her out with the same tune, and placing the treuse at Paris, a collection of fruit trees. When these flies nearer and nearer his own seat, after several trees arrived at Hergrove Hall, the tickets were safely months exercise, he succeeded in training the spider so affixed to all of them, excepting the Reine Claude, well, that she would start at the first signal, to wiza bed off in the package. The gardener therefore, being which was either omitted to be put on, or was rub-y at the farthest end of the room, and even on the knees of the prisoner." ignorant of the name, called it, when it first bore fruit, the Green Gage. MAGNETIC DIP. Professor Barlow, of the Royal Military Academy, at Woolwich, lately visited Portsmouth for the purpose of inquiring into the state of the compasses iu store in the Dock-yard at this port, and to determine the dip of the magnetic needle. He performed a number of experiments with a beautiful dipping needle, by Jones, and from the mean of these he found the dip to be 70° 21'. The Conway, Capt. B. Hall, is furnished with every requisite to ascertain the correctness of Mr. Barlow's plan in the Southern Hemisphere.-Plymouth Chronicle. METEORIC STONE. St. Petersburgh, 15th September.-A meteoric stone, weighing 40lbs. fell from the air during a violent thunder storm, at six o'clock in the evening, on the 12th of July, in the village of Listen, in the circle of Dunaburg, and the Government of Witebsk. It penetrated a foot A CASE OF TOENIA SOLIUM. late of the 4th battalion of royal artillery, aged 36, be The Casarean Operation was lately performed at and a half into the ground, whence it was dug up by the There appears to be some omission here; probably a a Mr. J. G. Colbert: This instrument is portable, of the size and general appearance of a timepiece, except that the dial-plate exhibits a semicircle marked with the degrees from 1 to 180. When the index is placed at half or a whole degree, or more, above the heat of the atpiece of stone of the weight here specified may have been mosphere at the time, any increase of temperature beyond the degree indicated, sets the alarum in motion, and thus gives notice of the approaching danger. Hence it is obvious, that the principle of the thermometer has been applied to this instrument, which may be placed in any situation, and is sold at prices varying from five to thirty guineas according to the plainness or elegance knocked off, and sent to St. Petersburg for examination. AGRICULTURE. It has been asserted by experienced agriculturists, that there has been but one harvest equal in all respects to the present since 1787, namely, that of 1805 or 1806. Such a harvest generally happens after a rigidly cold winter; because the temperature of the ground does not arrive at its maximum heat so soon; por is the corn checked in its growth by the late frosts, as in mild winters. of the execution. Grand Map.-On the summit of the mountain of Menilla-horne, in the department of the Meuse, there is at present an establishment of geographic engineers appointed to draw up a grand map of France. At night fires are kindled, which correspond with other points, and serve for the trigonometrical measurement. the funeral of a comedian, in the north of England: The following whimsical circumstance occurred the last duties to their deceased companion, agreed te His brothers of the sock and buskin, willing to pay follow the body to the grave; but, as they were bot the town's people: among the rest, the chief more all possessed of mourning, some of them borrowed of obtained a black coat of a shoemaker: but, as the procession passed honest crispin's house, a large dog tracted, no doubt, by the well-known scent of master's coat) absolutely seized the poor player by the skirt, and would not suffer him to proceed farther. The funeral was obliged to move on with out him; and the solemnity of so tragical an event was instantly changed into comedy: even the clergy. man forgot his gravity, and the whole cavalcade be came "merry mourners:" A plough has been invented for tilling rough land, country, and accustomed him to climb the rugged called the rid-plough. It is so constructed that it prevents the plough from getting choked up before and be- thought to be impregnated with puricles of gold. By and feet bared, even in the severest seasons. Hable A new mineral earth has been lately found in Corsica, his h rocks, nourished him with brown bread, beef, cheese, hind the coulter and in the point of the irons with warped chemical operation, vases have been made of it for table by being thus early inured to hardships, grasses or weeds, fresh sea-ware, straw-yard dung, or services, and it is found to vie in colour and lustre with to go into the army at an age that few other prints even rough stubble in wet weather, and will go as clear the finest vermillion. The name of Corsicarum has quit the nursery. Before he was sixteen he was most through a field of full-grown grain as on a smooth lea, been given to it; it has the property of not discolouring battle of the Hugonots, when he betrayed the utmost Advertiser. most purified and refined. was enabled nalize himself; but he was only permitted to be a spec |