And hence is haunted with a rhyming rage-
Fear'd like a bear just bursting from his cage.
If free, all fly his versifying fit,
Fatal at once to simpleton or wit:

Objectos caveæ valuit si frangere clathros,
Indoctum doctumque fugat recitator acerbus.

But him, unhappy! whom he seizes,—him
He flays with recitation limb by limb;
Probes to the quick where'er he makes his breach,
And gorges like a lawyer or a leech.

Quem vero arripuit, tenet, occiditque legendo,
Non missura cutem, nisi plena cruoris, hirudo.

some thirty pages, I omit, particularly as M. Grouvelle observes, “La choss
est bien remarquable, aucune de ces diverses interpretations ne parait être la
veritable." But, by way of comfort, it seems, fifty years afterwards, "Le
lumineux Dumarsais" made his appearance to set Horace on his legs again,
"dissaper tous les nuages et concilier tous les dissentimens; " and, soune
fifty years hence, somebody, still more luminous, will doubtless start up and
demolish Dumarsais and his system on this weighty affair, as if he were no
better than Ptolemy or Tycho, or comments of no more consequence thaa
astronomical calculations on the present comet. I am happy to say, "
longueur de la dissertation" of M. D. prevents M. G. from saying any more
on the matter. A better poet than Boileau, and at least as good a shear 18
Sevigué, has said,
"A little learning is a dangerous thing,"

"Dfficile est proprie communia dicere.”—Mde. Dacier, Mde. de Sevigne, Boileau, and others, have left their dispute on the meaning of this passage in a tract considerably longer than the poem of Horace. It is printed at the close of the eleventh volume of Madame de Sevigué's Letters, edited by Grouvelle, Paris, 1806. Presuming that all who can construe may venture an opinion on such subjects, particularly as so many who can not have taken the same liberty, I should have held my "farthing candle" as awkwardly as another, had not my respect for the wits of Louis the Fourteenth's Augustan siecle induced me to subjoin these illustrious authorities. 1st, Boileau: "I est difficile de traiter des sujets qui sont à la portée de tout le monde d'une manière qui vous les reude propes, ce qui s'apelle s'approprier un sujet par le tour qu'on y donne." 2dly, Batteux: "Mais il est bien difficile de donner des traits propres et individuels aux éties purement possibles." adly, Dacier: "Il est difficile de traiter convenablement ces caractères que tout le monde and by this comparison of comments it may be perceived how a good des peut inventer." Mde. de Sevigné's opinion and translation, consisting of may be rendered as perilous to the proprietors.

Athens, Capuchin Convent, March 17, 1811.
*SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,
Along Morea's hills the setting sun;
Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light;
O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws,
Gilds the green wave that trembles as it glows;
On old Egina's rock and Hydra's isle
The god of gladness sheds his parting smile;
O'er his own regions lingering loves to shine,
Though there his altars are no more divine.
Descending fast, the monntain-shadows kiss
Thy glorious gulf, unconquer'd Salamis !
Their azure arches through the long expanse,
More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance,
And tenderest tints, along their summits driven,
Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven;
Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep,
Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep.

On such an eve his palest beam he cast
When, Athens! here thy wisest looked his last.

The lines with which this satire opens, to "As thus, within the walls of Pall.us' fare," are repeated, with some alterations, at the commencement of the third canto of the Corsair.

How watch'd thy better sons his farewell ray,
That closed their murder'd sage's* latest day!
Not yet-not yet-Sol pauses on the hill,
The precious hour of parting lingers still;
But sad his light to agonizing eyes,
And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour,
The land where Phoebus never frown'd before;
But ere he sunk below Citharon's head,
The cup of wo was quaff'd-the spirit fled;
The soul of him that scorned to fear or fly,
Who lived and died as none can live or die.

But, lo! from high Hymettus to the plain
The queen of night asserts her silent reign; †
Hides her fair face, or girds her glowing form.
No murky vapor, herald of the storm,
With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams play,
There the white column greets her grateful ray,

Socrates drank the hemlock a short time before sunset, (the hour of exs cution,) notwithstanding the entreaties of his disciples to wait till the sun went

down.

The twilight in Greece is much shorter than in our own country; th days in winter are longer, but in summer of less duration.

And bright around, with quivering beams beset,
Her emblem sparkled o'er the minaret:
The groves of olive scatter'd dark and wide,
Where meek Cephisus sheds nis scanty tide,
The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,
The glimmering turret of the gay kiosk,*
And sad and sombre mid the holy calm,
Near Theseus' fane, yon solitary palm;
All, tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye;
And dull were his that pass'd them heedless by.

Again the Ægean, heard no more afar,
Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war;
Again his waves in milder tints unfold

Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold,
Mix'd with the shades of many a distant isle,
That frown, where gentler ocean deigns to smile.

As thus within the walls of Pallas' fane,
I mark'd the beauties of the land and main,
Alone, and friendless, on the magic shore,
Whose arts and arms but live in poets' lore:
Oft as the matchless dome I turn'd to scan,
Sacred to gods, but not secure from man,
The past return'd, the present seem'd to cease,
And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece!

Hours roll'd along, and Dian's orb on high
Had gain'd the centre of her softest sky;
And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod
O'er the vain shrine of many a vanish'd god :
But chiefly, Pallas! thine; when Hecate's glare,
Check'd by thy columns, fell more sadly fair
O'er the chill marble, where the startling tread
Thrills the lone heart like echoes from the dead.
Long had I mused, and treasured every trace
The wreck of Greece recorded of her race,
When, lo! giant form before me strode,
And Pallas hail'd me in her own abode !

Yes, 'twas Minerva's self; but, ah! how changed
Since o'er the Dardan field in arms she ranged!
Not such as erst, by her divine command,
Her form appeared from Phidias' plastic hand;
Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,
Her idle ægis bore no Gorgon now;
Her helm was dinted, and the broken lance
Seem'd weak and shaftless e'en to mortal glance;
The olive branch, which still she deign'd to clasp,
Shrunk from her touch, and wither'd in her grasp;
And, ah! though still the brightest of the sky,
Celestial tears bedimm'd her large blue eye;
Round the rent casque her owlet circled slow,
And mourn'd his mistress with a shriek of wo!

'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.
Survey this vacant, violated fane;
Recount the relics torn that yet remain;
These Cecrops placed, this Pericles adorn'd,*
That Adrian rear'd when drooping Science mourn'd
What more I owe let gratitude attest-

Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest.

That all may learn from whence the plunderer came
The insulted wall sustains his hated name:
For Elgin's fame thus grateful Pallas pleads,
Below, his name-above, behold his deeds;
Be ever hail'd with equal honor here
The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer:
Arms gave the first his right, the last had none,
But basely stole what less barbarians won.
So when the lion quits his fell repast,

Next prowls the wolf, the filthy jackal last:
Flesh, limbs, and blood the former make their own
The last poor brute securely gnaws the bone.
Yet still the gods are just, and crimes are cross'd;
See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!
Another name with his pollutes my shrine:
Behold where Dian's beams disdain'd to shine!
Some retribution still might Pallas claim,
When Venus half avenged Minerva's shame."+

Survey Boeotia; Caledonia's ours.

And well I know within that bastard land ‡
Hath Wisdom's goddess never held command:
A barren soil, where Nature's germs confined
To stern sterility, can stint the mind;
Whose thistle well betrays the niggard earth,
Emblem of all to whom the land gives birth;
Each genial influence nurtured to rest;
A land of meanness, sophistry, and mist.
Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy plain
Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain,
Till, burst at length each wat'ry head o'erflows,
Foul as their soil, and frigid as their snows.
Then thousand schemes of petulance and pride
Despatch her scheming children far and wide;
Some east, some west, some every where but north
In quest of lawless gain, they issue forth.
And thus-accursed be the day and year!-
She sent a Pict to play the felon here.

"Mortal!"-'twas thus she spake-"that blush of Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,

shame

Proclaims thee Briton, once a noble name;
First of the mighty, foremost of the free,
Now honor'd less by all, and least by me:
Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found.
Seek'st thou the cause of loathing?-look around.
Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,
I saw successive tyrannies expire.

• The kiosk is a Turkish summer-house; the palm is without the present walls of Athens, not far from the temple of Theseus, between which and the tree the wall intervenes. Cephiaus' stream is indeed scanty, and Illiesus has no stream at all.

As dull Boeotia gave a Pindar birth;
So may her few, the letter'd and the brave,
Bound to no clime, and victors of the grave,
Shake off the sordid dust of such a land,
And shine like children of a happier strand;

• This is spoken of the city in general, and not of the Acropolia in partio ular: the temple of Jupiter Olympus, by some supposed the Pantheon, wa finished by Hadrian; sixteen columns are standing, of the most beautifu marble and architecture.

↑ His lordship's name, and that of one who no longer bears it, are carved conspicuously on the Parthenon; above, in a part not far distant, are the torn remnants of the basso reli-vos destroyed in a vain attempt to remove them, "Irish bastards," according to Sir Callaghan O'Brallaghan.

As once, of yore, in some obnoxious place,
Ten names (if found) had saved a wretched race."

"Mortal!" the blue-eyed maid resumed, "once
Bear back my mandate to thy native shore. [more
Though fallen, alas! this vengeance yet is mine,
To turn my counsels far from lands like thine.
Hear then in silence Pallas' stern behest;
Hear and believe, for time will tell the rest.

"First on the head of him who did this deed
My curse shall light, on him and all his seed:
Without one spark of intellectual fire,
Be all the sons as senseless as the sire:
If one with wit the parent brood disgrace,
Believe him a bastard of a brighter race:
Still with his hireling artists let him prate
And Folly's praise repay for Wisdom's hate;
Long of their patron's gusto let them tell,
Whose noblest, native gusto is-to sell:
To sell, and make-may Shamc record the day!
The state receiver of his pilfer'd prey.
Meantime, the flattering, feeble dotard, West,
Europe's worst dauber, and poor Britain's best,
With palsied hand shall turn each model o'er,
And own himself an infant of fourscore.

Be all the bruisers cull'd from all St. Giles',
That art and nature may compare their styles;
While brawny brutes in stupid wonder stare,
And marvel at his lordship's 'stone shop't there.
Round the throng'd gate shall sauntering coxcombs
creep,

To lounge and lucubrate, to prate and peep;
While many a languid maid, with longing sigh,
On giant statues casts the curious eye:

The room with transient glance appears to skim,
Yet marks the mighty back and length of limb;
Mourns o'er the difference of now and then :
Exclaims, These Greeks indeed were proper men!
Draws sly comparisons of these and those,
And envies Lats all her Attic beaux.

Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid,
Or break the compact which herself hath made;
Far from such counsels, from the faithless field,
She filed-but left behind her Gorgon shield:
A fatal gift, that turn'd your friends to stone,
And left lost Albion hated and alone.,

"Look to the East, where Ganges' swarthy race
Shall shake your tyrant empi to its base;
Lo! there Rebellion rears i ghastly head,
And glares the Nemesis of native dead;
Till Indus rolls a deep purpureal flood,
And claims his long arrear of northern blood.
So may ye perish !-Pallas, when she gave
Your free-born rights, forbade ye to enslave.

"Look on your Spain !-she clasps the hand she
hates,

But boldly clasps, and thrusts you from her gates
Bear witness, bright Barossa! thou canst tell
Whose were the sons that bravely fought and fell.
But Lusitania, kind and dear ally,

Can spare a few to fight, and sometimes fly.
Oh glorious field! by Famine fiercely won,
The Gaul retires for once, and all is don :!
But when did Pallas teach that one retreat
Retrieved three long olympiads of defeat?

"Look last at home-ye love not to look there
On the grim smile of comfortless despair:
Your city saddens: loud though Revel howls,
Here Famine faints, and yonder Rapine prowls.
See all alike of more or less bereft ;
No misers tremble when there's nothing left.
'Blest paper credit,'* who shall dare to sing?
It clogs like lead Corruption's weary w
Yet Pallas pluck'd each premier by the ear,
Who gods and men alike disdain'd to hear;
But one, repentant o'er a bankrupt state,
On Pallas calls, but calls, alas! too late:
Then raves for **; to that Mentor benas,

When shall a modern maid have swains like these! Though he and Pallas never yet were in ends.
Alas! Sir Harry is no Hercules !

And last of all, amidst the gaping crew,
Some calm spectator, as he takes his view,
In silent indignation mix'd with grief,
Admires the plunder, but abhors the thief.
Oh, loathed in life, nor pardon'd in the dust,
May hate pursue his sacrilegious lust!
Link'd with the fool that fired the Ephesian dome,
Shall vengeance follow far beyond the tomb,
And Eratostratus and Elgin shine
In many a branding page and burning line;
Alike reserved for aye to stand accurst,
Perchance the second blacker than the first.

"So let him stand, through ages yet unborn,
Fix'd statue on the pedestal of Scorn;
Though not for him alone revenge shall wait,
But fits thy country for her coming fate:
Hers were the deeds that taught her lawless son
To to do what oft Britannia's self had done.
Look to the Baltic-blazing from afar,
Your old ally yet mourns perfidious war,

• Mr. West, on seeing the "Elgin Collection," (I suppose we shall hear of the “Abershaw" and "Jack Shephard's " Collection,) declared himself "a mere tyro" in art.

↑ Poor Crib was sadly puzzled when exhibited at E-House; he naked if it was not a stone shop?"-He was right; it is a shop.

Him senates hear, whom never yet the heard,
Contemptuous once, and now no less absurd.
So once of yore, each reasonable frog
Swore faith and fealty to his sovereign 'log.'
Thus hail'd your rulers their patrician clod,
As Egypt chose an onion for a god.

"Now fare ye well! enjoy your little hour;
Go, grasp the shadow of your vanish'd power;
Gloss o'er the failure of each fondest scheme;
Your strength a name, your bloated wealth a dream
Gone is that gold, the marvel of mankind,
And pirates barter all that's left behind.t
No more the hirelings, purchased near and far,
Crowd to the ranks of mercenary war.
The idle merchant on the useless quay,
Droops o'er the bales no bark may bear away?
Or, back returning, sees rejected stores,
Rot piecemeal on his own encumber'd shores:
The starved mechanic breaks his rusting loom,
And desperate mans him 'gainst the common doom.
Then in the senate of your sinking state,

Show me the man whose counsels may have weight

• "Blest paper credit ↑ last and best supply,
That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly !"-Pope.
The Deal and Dover traffickers in specie.

Vain is each voice where tones could once command; [But know a lesson you may yet be taught,

E'en factions cease to charm a factious land;
Yet jarring sects convulse a sister isle,

And light with maddening hands the mutual pile.

""Tis done, 'tis past, since Pallas warns in vain,
The furies seize her abdicated reign:
Wide o'er the realm

wave their kindling brands,
And wring her vitals ith their fiery hands.
But one convulsive struggle still remains,
And Gaul shall weep ere Albion wears her chains.
The banner'd pomp of war, the glittering files,
O'er whose gay trappings stern Bellona smiles;
The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum,
That bid the foe defiance ere they come;
The hero bounding at his country's call,
The glorious death that decorates his fall,
Swell the young heart with visionary charms,
And bids it antedate the joys of arms.

With death alone are laurels cheaply bought:
Not in the conflict Havoc seeks delight,
His day of mercy is the day of fight.

But when the field is fought, the battle won,
Though drench'd with gore, his woes are but begun
His deeper deeds as yet ye know by name;
The slaughter'd peasant and the ravish'd dame,
The rifled mansion and the foe-reap'd field,
Ill suit with souls at home, untaught to yield.
Say with what eye along the distant down
Would flying burghers mark the blazing town?
How view the column of ascending flames
Shake his red shadow o'er the startled Thames ?
Nay, frown not, Albion! for the torch was thine
That lit such pyres from Tagus to the Rhine.
Now should they burst on thy devoted coast,
Go, ask thy bosom who deserves them most.
The law of heaven and earth is life for life,

And she who raised, in vain regrets the strife."

SIR,

TO THE PUBLISHER.

ing great praises of Mrs. H.'s dancing, (she was famous for birthnight minuets in the latter end of the I AM a country gentleman of a midland county. last century,) I unbooted and went to a ball at the I might have been a parliament-man for a certain countess's, expecting to see a country dance, or at borough, having had the offer of as many votes as most, cotillions, reels, and all the old paces to the General T. at the general election in 1812. But I newest tunes. But, judge of my surprise, on arriving, was all for domestic happiness; as, fifteen years to see poor dear Mrs. Hornem with her arms half ago, on a visit to London, married a middle-aged round the loins of a huge hussar-looking gentleman maid of honor. We lived happily at Hornem Hall I never set eyes on before; and his, to say truth, till last season, when my wife and I were invited by rather more than half round her waist, turning the Countess of Waltzaway (a distant relation of my round, and round, and round, to a dd see-saw spouse) to pass the winter in town. Thinking no up-and-down sort of tune, that reminded me of the harm, and our girls being come to a marriageable Black joke," only more "affetuoso," till it made (or as they call it, marketable) age, and having be-me quite giddy with wondering they were not so. sides a Chancery suit inveterately entailed upon the By and by they stopp'd a bit, and I thought they family estate, we came up in our old chariot, of which would sit or fall down :-but, no; with Mrs. H. 3 by the by, my wife grew so much ashamed in less than hand on his shoulder, "quam familiariter,”* (as a week, that I was obliged to buy a second-hand Terrence said, when I was at school,) they walked barouche, of which I might mount the box, Mrs. H.

says, if I could drive, but never see the inside-that

My Latin is all forgotten, if a man can be said to have forgotten what place being reserved for the Honorable Augustus he never remembered; but I bought my title-page motto of a Catholic priest Tiptoe, her partner-general and opera-knight. Hear- for a three shilling bank token, after much haggling for the even sixpence.

• State of the poll, (last day,) 5.

I grudged the money to a papist, being all for the memory of Perceval and "No popery," and quite regretting the downfall of the pope, because we can't burn him any more.

about a minute, and then at it again, like two cock-Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young hussar, chafers spitted on the same bodkin. I asked what The whisker'd votary of waltz and war, all this meant, when, with a loud laugh, a child no His night devotes, despite of spur and boots; older than our Wilhelmina, (a name I never heard but A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes: in the Vicar of Wakefield, though her mother Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz !-beneath whose banners would call her after the Princess of Swappenbach,) | A modern hero fought for modish manners; said, "Lord! Mr. Hornem, can't you see they are On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's* fame, valtzing!" or waltzing, (I forget which ;) and then Cock'd-fired and miss'd his man-but gain'd his up she got, and her mother and sister, and away they aim;

went, and round-abouted it till supper-time. Now Hail moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast that I know what it is, I like it of all things, and Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest. so does Mrs. H. (though I have broken my shins, Oh! for the flow of Busby, or of Fitz, and four times overturned Mrs. Hornem's maid, in The latter's loyalty, the former's wits, practising the preliminary steps in a morning.) In-To "energize the object I pursue," deed, so much do I like it, that having a turn for And give both Belial and his dance their due! rhyme, tastily displayed in some election ballads, and songs in honor of all the victories, (but till lately I Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine, have had little practice in that way,) I sat down, and (Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine,) with the aid of W. F. Esq. and a few hints from Dr. Long be thine import from all duty free, B. (whose recitations I attend, and am monstrous And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee; fond of Master B.'s manner of delivering his father's In some few qualities alike-for hock late successful "D. L. Address,") I composed the Improves our cellar-thou our living stock. following hymn, wherewithal to make my sentiments The head to hock belongs-thy subtler art known to the public, whom, nevertheless, I heartily despise as well as the critics.

I am, Sir, yours, &c. &c.

HORACE HORNEM.

MUSE of the many-twinkling feet!* whose charms
Are now extended up from legs to arms;
Terpsichore too long misdeem'd a maid-
Reproachful term-bestowed but to upbraid-
Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine,
The least a vestal of the virgin Nine.

Far be from thee and thine the name of prude;
Mock'd, yet triumphant; sneer'd at, unsubdued;
Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly,
If but thy coats are reasonably high;
Thy breast-if bare enough-requires no shield;
Dance forth-sans armour thou shalt take the field.
And own-impregnable to most assaults
Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz."

"Glance their many-twinkling feet."-Gray.

To rival Lord W.'s, or his nephew's, as the reader pleases: the one

gained a pretty woman, whom he deserved, by fighting for; and the other has been fighting in the Peninsula many a long day, "by Shrewsbury clock," without gaming any thing in that country but the title of "the Great Lord," and "the Lord," which savors of profanation, having been hitherto applied

only to that Being to whom "Te Deums" for carnage are the rankest
alasphemy.-It is presumed the general will one day return to his Sabine
2; here

"To tame the genius of the stubborn plain,
Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain !"

The Lord Peterborough conquered continents in a summer; we do morewe contrive both to conquer and lose them in a shorter season. If the "great

Lord's "Cincinnatian progress in agriculture be no speedier than the propor. tional average of time in Pope's couplet, it will, according to the farmer's

proverb, be "ploughing with dogs."

Intoxicates alone the heedless heart;

Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,
And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs.

Oh Germany! how much to thee we owe,
As heaven-born Pitt can testify below,
Ere cursed confederation made thee France's,
And only left us thy d-d debts and dances!
Of subsidies and Hanover bereft,

We bless thee still-for George the Third is left!
Of kings the best-and last, not least in worth,
For graciously begetting George the Fourth.
To Germany, and highnesses serene,
Who owe us millions-don't we owe the queen?
To Germany, what owe we not besides ?
So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides;
Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,
Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud:
Who sent us-so be pardon'd all her faults-
A dozen dukes-some kings-a queen-and Waltz.

But peace to her-her emperor and diet,
Though now transferr'd to Buonaparte's "fiat!"
Back to my theme-O Muse of motion! say,
How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way?

Borne on the breath of Hyperborean gales,
From Hamburg's port, (while Hamburg yet had
mails,)

Ere yet unlucky Fame-compell'd to creep
To snowy Gottenburgh-was chill'd to sleep;
Or starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise,
Heligoland! to stock thy mart with lies;
While unburnt Moscow yet had news to send,
Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend,

By the by-one of this illustrious person's new titles is forgotten-it is, however, worth remembering-" Salvador del mundo!" credite, posteri! • The patriotic arson of our amiable allies cannot be sufficiently commended If this be the appellation annexed by the inhabitants of the Peninsula to the-nor subscribed for. Among other details omitted in the various despatches name of a man who has not yet saved them-query-are they worth saving, of our eloquent ambassador, he did not state, (being too much occupied with even in this world? for, according to the mildest modifications of any Chris the exploits of Col. C, in swimming rivers frozen, and galloping over tian creed, those three words make the odds much against them in the next.-roads impassable,) that one entire province perished by famine in the most "Saviour of the world," quotha 1-it were to be wished that he, or any one melancholy manner, as follows:-In General Rostopchin's consummate conise, could save a corner of it-his country. Yet this stupid misnomer, flagration, the consumption of tallow and train oil was so great, that the although it shows the near connexion between superstition and impiety, so market was inadequate to the demand: and thus one hundred and thirtyhr has its use, that it proves there can be little to dread from those Catholics three thousand persons were starved to death, by being reduced to whale(inquisitorial Catholics too) who can confer such an appellation on a Pro- some diet! The lamplighters of London have since subscribed a pist (ef o3) estant. I suppose next year he will be entitled the "Virgin Mary: "if so, a piece, and the tallow-chandlers have unanimously voted a quantity of best Dont George Gordon himself would have nothing to object to such liberal moulds (four to the pound) to the relief of the surviving Scythians—the Aards of our Lady of Babylon. scarcity will soon, by such exertions, and a proper attention to the gusality