TUESDAY, 19.-Shrove Tuesday. This is called 'Fastern's E'en' and Pancake Tuesday. In Yorkshire, and the northern counties, this and the preceding day are called Collop Monday and Pancake Tuesday: the latter is a noted holiday; the pancake bell rung in the forenoon, not only announces the hour for commencing the frying of Pancakes, but proclaims a jubilee for children, apprentices, and servants. On this day, the Carnival at Rome terminates by a most singular illumination immediately after the horse-race. Not only all the houses are illuminated, but all persons on foot or in their carriages hold lighted tapers; and sit or stand, in the cold and wet, with their fingers dripping with wax or tallow, ac cording to the ability of the illumination. After the lapse of an hour, on the progressive march of the troops down the Corso, light after light suddenly disappears, amidst peals of laughter and lamentations of regret; till the sounds of the horses' feet die away, the crowd disperses, and darkness and solitude succeed. WEDNESDAY, 20.-Ash Wednesday. Formerly Lent began on the Sunday after Quinquagesima, i. e. our first Sunday in Lent, and ended at Easter, containing in all 42 days; and subtracting the six Sundays which are not fasts, there remained only 36 fasting days, the tenth part of 360, the number of days in the ancient year, then considered as a tythe of the year consecrated to God's service. To these 36 fasting days, however, of the Old Lent, Gregory added four days more, to render it equal to the time of our Saviour's fasting, causing it to begin on Ash Wednesday, three days after Quinquagesima; and thus it has remained ever since. CORRESPONDENCE. TO THE EDITOR. SIR,-As your Miscellany appears to be open to every thing useful, instructive, and entertaining, I beg to address you. Having for a short time devoted my leisure hours to the study of Heraldry, I have lately met with a term which I am at a loss to explain, viz.-In the work entitled "Ahiman Rezon," the author says, that the arms of the an⚫ient Free and Accepted Masons, as given by the learned Hebrew Architect and Brother Rabbi Jacob |-till the fancy sleeps,-till the zest diminishes, and Manchester, Feb. 5, 1822. TO THE EDITOR. SIR, Those beautiful verses, beginning "That so sweetly were forsworn;" &c. L. SIR, Those who are acquainted with any thing of what is called Life,' as at present exhibited, cannot but have observed, and most probably with regret, the practice, so common in the entertainments of certain classes, of encouraging a ruinous excess in wine. My complaints, on this subject, are not those of a whining sectary, or a religious enthusiast, but the regrets of a man, not averse to the true enjoyments of life, and anxious, by a sober and moderate use, to increase and preserve them. In the days of original simplicity, it was thought sufficient, if, at a social entertainment, each person took that quantity which warmed his blood, gave a kind impulse to the circulation in his veins, and enlivened his imagination; upon which effects it is, that all the praises of wine, bestowed by poets and orators, must legitimately be founded. The custom of which I complain, is the reverse of this; glass after glass is quaffed, till reason is stupified sonable being. If this conduct proceeds from a wish that all the company should enjoy themselves, it is pardonable, though only to be excused by an imbecility of the judgement; but, if it is the result of a concerted scheme, to involve the guest in the wretched state of drunkenness, and to take advantage of the unshielded exposure which such a state affords, it is a villany revolting to the genuine ideas of hospitality. In this latter view it presents a picture as foul and execrable, and as much to be disclaimed by every good and honest man, as that of the Fiend who exults in the degradation of humanity. If the motive be, as I said, the desire of all enjoying themselves, how much does the entertainer mistake his means, when he presses what his acquaintance declines and loathes. The true means of giving pleasure is to permit each to follow the dictates of his inclination there is no pleasure to which a want did not lead, since pleasure is but the gratification of a want. For every want that stimulates the breast, Every gratification ceases to be such, when com pulsion is interposed: it depends on the tender and delicate construction of the human will, than which nothing is more susceptible or more easily alarmed. In these mistaken revelries, there are some who, in the general spirit of debauchery, lend their assistance to the governor of the feast, to promote intoxication: who make it their care to enforce the injunction of the reiterated bumper,-betray the temperate, and erect themselves into the trustees of each other's reason. You, Sir, by virtue of your office are a trustee for the public; every Editor, who undertakes the conduct, of a publication, is, ipso facto, an implied censor of the morals of the people, and a guardian of the talent and learning of the country. In aid then of your exertions, allow me to press the grounds of my complaint: my subject is a strong one, and the impression on my own mind is deep; and I am resolved not to quit the subject, till I impress the feeling as strongly on the great body of your readers. But these Bacchanalians are inconsistent with themselves, if they profess to adopt the principles of Epicurus; since the pleasure experienced, is certainly less the farther they proceed. When the draught is repeated to a degree of infatuation bordering on insanity, and with a disregard to the suggestions of reason and experience, the spirit of enjoyment flies-the body sinks into composure-the imagination, the wit is deadened, the liquor palls,-and the fulness. active sense of social fellowship is buried in forget- | eation, is an article signed W. in the first number of ed a considerable sum for my education: but judg your work, in which the prospective pleasure of hold of his disappointment and sorrow when he found me ing forth on a public speech day is painted in glow-destitute of almost every thing of which he considered ing colours; while graver studies, and studies of the education to consist. I could not distinguish, in plain highest importance, are thrown into the shade, and English, between a substantive and a verb; and to represented as calculated to excite only feelings of have given any thing like a tolerable account of the horror and disgust. difference between an adjective and an adverb, except in the ipsissima verba of my grammar, (which might as well have been written in the vernacular tongue of the Cherokee Indians, for any thing that I knew of its meaning,) would have cost me the ineffectual labour of many an hour. It was not thus that the elegance of Horne shone, that the heart of Walpole expanded, that the eloquence of Burke glowed,-that the wit of Beauelere sparkled, that the periods of Johnson flowed, and that inspiration imparted itself to the thoughts and diction of the mighty ancestor from whom I have the honor indirectly to derive my name. No. But, it was this that deadened the genius of the poet Butler, -and this that overcame the politeness and the elegant conceptions of the great Porson himself. Nor will it be matter of wonder, if, by progression in this degrading practice, we find the wit and talent of the country vanish ; and that, in another generation, our children, sprung from the lees of fermented wine, should be more degenerate and insensible than their fathers before them. Why should the thoughts of lessons or of exercises be suffered to disturb the peace, and tranquillity' of our minds? Why is a school spoken of in such repulsive terms? and why should the noted Tuesday' be remembered with a sigh of regret, when the tasks are once more resumed, and the lexicon again is elevated to its wonted station.' The routine of a classical education, according to the mode in which it is too frequently pursued, I am well aware, is insupportable drudgery to many an ingenuous mind. But is it not possible to render the tasks, even of a grammar school, in some degree pleasurable, and the variety of its exercises a relaxation to the mind? I speak from experience when I say that it is. But that I may not be tedious, I shall only further state that I was afterwards placed under the care of a gentleman whose first object is, if possible, to make his pupils understand every thing which they do, Under his tuition my father thinks I have made wonderful improvement. For my own part, I know that education is no longer the drudgery it formerly was, nor do I creep like snail unwillingly to school.' I begin to taste the sweets of classic lore, and to relish the beauties of the effusions of ancient genius. Being directed to a judicious course of private reading, and having had the advantages of mental culture, most impressively set before me, my mind now begins to ex I was placed at an early age under the tuition of a master who had acquired considerable fame as an instructor of youth; but his endeavours to make me drink the ambrosial draughts of ancient lore were in-pand, and to lay up a store of useful and solid erudieffectual, because he never failed to mix them up with copious doses of the nauseous oil of birch. And instead of writing his instructions on the tablet of my understanding, he laboured with no small assiduity to delineate on my sensorium (which alas! proved to obdurate for his stylus,) a collection of rules and of precepts, expressed in such a jargon of sounds, as could be intelligible only to such paragons of learning as my sapient tutor, or his no less sapient ushers. My learning being thus rendered so disagreeable and irksome, you need not wonder that, like many a youth of fair promise, I deceived the fondest hopes of my parents, and, for six long years, in which I was It is not unusual for the several members of a party, to swallow the contents of a bottle and a half, or two bottles each; a quantity so excessive, so revolting in idea, and so disproportioned to the natural wants, or the natural capabilities of a human being, that it would be surprising if the health were not injured, and the faculty of reason blunted. Such immoderate potations recal to our recollection the times of Athelstan and our Saxon Ancestors, and the gormandizers of the 13th and 14th centuries, who lived and laboured with no other object than to eat and drink; who wasted over nature ten times the quantity necessary for her support, and who realized the description of Horace, Fruges consumere nati.' I rejoice, however, to learn, that the more refined societies of the present day, (superior to their ancestors in politeness, if not in virtue,) have justly exploded a practice, which is as much disgraceful as pernicious. When fashion is linked in hand with propriety, one feels a pleasure of an unusual nature, which is the more lively as the occasion of it is rare. I trust, Sir, that those who aspire to wear a re-professedly a student of the language of Rome, I respectable appearance in the eyes of society, will be alive to the advantages and recommendations of this fashion; and that the absurd and vicious custom which I have exposed, will soon be regarded as un⚫ becoming a gentleman, and fit only for the frequenters of taverns and clubs. 12th February, 1822. TO THE EDITOR. CHATHAM. sorted to every artifice which youthful ingenuity tion. In composition I strive to imitate the elegant models which are set before me. How far I have succeeded, I leave you, from the present specimen, to form a judgement. This production of my pen may perhaps be advantageously contrasted with a genuine copy of such letters as I was accustomed to write, till within a year and a half of the present period. I give it at the bottom of the page. I had then no more idea of varying a single expression in my monthly epistles to my 'Honoured Parents,' (except on the approach of the holydays, when it was necessary to mention the time I expected to have the pleasure of being locked in their embrace) than I now have of repeating the Pater noster backwards, or attempting to walk on the crown of my head. I could with pleasure expatiate on the virtues and erudition of my respected instructor; but should this paper meet his eye, he, worthy man, would note it as the language of fulsome flattery, and I would be in danger of falling several degrees in the scale of his good opinion, which I am ever anxious to retain. DISCIPULUS GRATUS. Feb. 6th, 1822. I am very well, and I hope you are so too, the rest of the family. Give my best love to my Brothers and Sisters, Thus till I was 12 years of age, my memory was burdened, without one attempt to inform my judgement, or improve my understanding. I had no more idea that the rules of my grammar were capable of a meaning, than the man in the moon; and although I was taught to apply a few of them mechanically when pars-and SIR,-You will possibly deem it sheer presumption ing my Cesar or my Tully, yet their bearing on the in a young jackanapes, who has but just entered point was never perceived, because it was never his 14th year, to attempt to address you in your offi-pointed out; and I was kept completely in the dark, cial character; and you will hardly be disposed to as to the possible utility of any of the studies in which give me credit when I say, that puerile vanity has I was engaged. Had I been set down to accounts, had no influence in leading me to make this feeble I would have had some notion of their utility, in seeattempt. I write purely in the hope that an account ing their application to the business of the lowest of the mode in which my studies are now directed, shop-keeper in the village; but the utility of classical contrasted with the manner in which they were for- studies was far beyond the reach of my comprehension, merly conducted, may not be altogether without its unless haply, it were to occupy a few years which use to some of your juvenile readers; for I should might otherwise have been employed in mischief, or be the last person in the world to endeavour to unto line the pockets of some needy individual who had dermine the credit or influence of a single individual no other means of making his bread. of the respectable society of schoolmasters. What has suggested the subject of this communi At length, however, my father was induced to inquire into my progress in learning. He had expend Honoured Parents, Your affectionate Son, CLOCK WORK MACHINERY. (From the New York National Advocate.) There are now exhibiting at Mr. Vogel's in Broadway, several wonderful pieces of clock work machinery, which, perhaps, equal the masterly ingenuity of the auto mata of Vaucauson, or of Albert the Great. The first is a small elegantly wrought gold cage, surmounting a musical clock work. In this cage is a fountain, and a bird not larger than a bee, which sings, flutters its wings, and flies from one part of the cage to another. The base of the second is also occupied by a musical clock work; it represents a group of quadrupeds around the basin of a fountain, where a goat drinks, and performs a variety of movements. In front is a basket with a pear in it: the moment the pear is touched, a dog on the other side gnashes his teeth, barks, and shakes himself till the pear is replaced, while a monkey behind threatens him with a stick, and in the mean time munches an apple. A butterfly rests on a pillar above the fountain, and moves its wings and feet. The back ground to this group is a mass of rocks, from among which, now and then, a fox makes its appearance. Above these rocks there is a small patch of blue sky, and the sun turning on his axis, and also accomplishing his diurnal revolution. This is a remarkably complicated piece of machinery, none of the figures being more than an inch in length. the answer, which is always appropriate. | a roar.---The minute shades of her bye-play, and the The last is called a perpetual motion; THE DRAMA. MANCHESTER DRAMATIC REGISTER. Monday, Feb. 11th.-The Hypocrite: Cantwell, Mr. The third is a cage, very large and highly ornamented. On the top is a black man who beats time to the chiming of several satyrs and two monkeys, one of whom grins quite ludicrously. But the most wonderful things are two Canary birds that sing the natural notes of these birds, flutter and flap their wings, and spring from one perch to another. In >this cage is a fountain, which falls by several stories; and the artificial arrangeSIR.I trust to your candour for inserting the folments of pieces of glass represents so na-lowing in a corner of your entertaining miscellany, in turally the sound and glitter of falling water, that both the eye and the ear may be deceived. The fourth is a park with two country seats, out of which come two ladies, who exchange mutual salutations, and bow to the company. Attracted by the sudden flight and song of a bird in a grove beside them, they turn and listen. The bird, not larger than a bee, sings and flutters for some time, and then flies away among the trees. Upon this, the ladies repeat their bows and curtsies to each other and to the company, and withdraw into their houses. On the top of the dome above, is a large butterfly, which closes and expands its wings and moves its feet in a perfectly natural manner, This and indeed all the machinery play a variety of tunes. The fifth and sixth are two magicians, the French and the American. There is a set number of questions to each; and on any one of these being placed in a drawer for the purpose, the magician goes through a variety of ceremonies and gives TO THE EDITOR. answer to the very liberal and candid remarks signed How "Miss Clara Fisher, a child of apparently between "The little Richard, Miss Clara Fisher, was through- "But we must record the brilliant success of the great Lord Flimnap, Prime Minister of the Lillipution The above extracts (out of the many that followed her first appearance in London, all equally favourable) will, I trust, convince nine-tenths of your readers of the fallacy and ill nature of the learned remarks of your Correspondent: and I have no doubt the greatest success will attend Miss C. Fisher's next appearance on these boards, and will again delight a Manchester Audience, whom " Jack Bunce," very politely terms "Barren Spectators." Craving indulgence for so long trespassing on your columns, I am, Sir, A FRIEND TO REAL MERIT. Manchester, February 12th, 1822. FOR THE IRIS. CAIN, A MYSTERY. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1822. IN pointing out the aberrations of a splendid intellect, and the self-degradation of genius, I disclaim all those petty motives of malice and envy which so frequently excite the anathemas of the critic. I admire the genius of Byron; I lament its degradation. But still it should be remembered, that he is so far above the host of petty scribblers who criticise his works, in intellectual greatness, that it becomes us to point out the excellencies and defects of his productions, with the utmost modesty, when they do not affect the cause of religion and of morality; but when they are assailed, every honest man, and every christian, ought loudly to enter his protest against the assailant, however dignified his rank, or exalted his genius. It must grieve every true admirer of poetry to see the course which his lordship has lately taken; to see that genius, which had it been devoted to the interests of religion and morality, (which even he himself acknowledges to be the highest aim of poetry), would have rendered the name of Byron, a blessing to the nation and to posterity, as it now is and will be-a curse! That genius might have produced images of purity and excellence, which would have been fondly cherished in the choicest recesses of our memories; which has been expended in administering to the basest and most degrading of passions, in a tale which can only he openly shewn and acknowledged in a brothel; and whose images can only be cherished by those whose every better feeling is lost in brutal sensuality; and in the production now before me, which can only excite unmixed feelings of pain in the mind of the christian, and of a sullen triumphant feeling of savage joy in the infidel. verts and misapplies his talents: all ranks of society are influenced by such an example, and its demoralizing effects spread from one circle to another, until they pervade the whole. This is not idle declamation, as every one who has traced the retrograde movements which his lordship's muse has made from morality, from Childe Harold down to Beppo, Juan, and Cain, will most readily allow. He has now arrived at the ne plus ultra' of libertinism, illiberality, and infidelity; and whatever may succeed can only be the variations on the preceding subjects, unless his lordship takes Burn's advice to his Satanic majesty, 'Oh would thou tak a thout and mend.' and dedicate his pen to the service of that morality which he has mocked with his praise, and insulted with his practice. And wherefore pluck'd ye not the tree of life? Ye might have then defied him! the former. The attacks of such men as Hone and Carlile, upon the institutions which we venerate and adore, are puny and impotent, and can only affect the unAfter a short conversation Cain is left alone and educated and uninformed; but when the Herculean-Lucifer enters. His approach is thus described by powers of a Byron assail them, we tremble, not for fear of their destruction, for they are imperishable; but for the temporary injury which may be occasioned, by misleading the minds of the unthinking and unreflecting. It is a national calamity, when one of the great master spirits' of the age, so per 'Whom have we here?-A shape like to the angels, WEEKLY. PRICE 3 d. Before the gates round which I linger oft, If I shrink not from these, the fire-arm'd angels, A conversation ensues, in which the bold discontented spirit of Cain is powerfully wrought upon, by the subtlety of Lucifer, in whose character, all the metaphysical doubts and speculations, which have agitated the minds of men for ages, are concentred, and expressed with a boldness which startles, and with a subtlety which cannot fail very much to injure minds, which are not previously well fortified against such attacks. I shall only make one or two extracts of this nature, by way of shewing the justice of my remarks. Lucifer speaking of himself and Cain, says, that they are— 'Souls who dare use their immortality- As he saith-which I know not, nor believe- Cain's feelings, on the subject of death, are thus forcibly and beautifully expressed. although I know not what it is, Yet it seems horrible. I have look'd out In the vast desolate night in search of him; And when I saw gigantic shadows in The umbrage of the walls of Eden, chequer'd By the far-flashing of the cherubs' swords, I watch'd for what I thought his coming; for With fear rose longing in my heart to know What 'twas which shook us all-but nothing came. And then I turn'd my weary eyes from off Our native and forbidden Paradise, Up to the lights above us, in the azure, Which are so beautiful: shall they, too, die?' Lucifer leaves him, after having fill'd his mind with fresh matter for gloomy and discontented thoughts, which he communicates to his wife Adah, who endeavours to sooth him. A little glimmering of kinder feeling occasionally breaks out from the gloomy darkness of Cain's soul, for instance, speaking of his ⚫hildren. My little Enoch! and his lisping sister! Lucifer returns, and requests Cain to accompany him, on which Adah endeavours to prevent him, and Lucifer, to entangle her in the web of metaphysical speculations. In the course of this dialogue, Adah makes the following exquisitely poetical comparison, between the angels of the Lord and Lucifer. his angels, who are like to theeAnd brighter, yet less beautiful and powerful In seeming as the silent sunny noon, All light they look upon us; but thou seem'st Like an etherial night, where long white clouds Streak the deep purple, and unnumber'd stars Spangle the wonderful mysterious vault With things that look as if they would be sans; So beautiful, unnumber'd, and endearing, Not dazzling, and yet drawing us to them, They fill my eyes with tears, and so dost thou. Thou seem'st unhappy; do not make us so, And I will weep for thee. The last sentiment is exquisitely feeling and feminine, and endears the character of Adah to us more than any elaborate description could have done. In the Second Act, Lucifer takes him through the abyss of space, and again enters deeply and painfully, into the often-agitated and never-settled question, of the origin of sin. He shews him worlds present, and the shadows of past worlds, and among others the world which preceded this, and was far greater, and more glorious; and when Cain asks, 'Wherefore did it fall?' And unimaginable ether! and Oh God! Oh Gods! or whatso'er ye are! How beautiful ye are! how beautiful Cain's love for Adah is thus expressed by him. The sun's gorgeous comingHis setting indescribable, which fills My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold Him sink, and feel my heart float softly with him Along that western paradise of cloudsThe forest shade-the green bough-the bird's voice The vesper bird's, which seems to sing of love. All these are nothing, to my eyes and heart, Like Adah's face: I turn from earth and heaven To gaze on it.' Cain returns to his family, and pours out the bitter moanings of his restless and discontented spirit over his sleeping child, and in the presence of his wife. I would fain transcribe many passages here of great pathos, but I have already far exceeded my usual limits. Abel enters, and proposes making a sacrifice to the Deity on two altars which are adjoining, and, after some altercation, Cain consents. Abel kneels, and with an humble prayer offers the firstlings of his flocks. Cain stands, and in a speech of insulting, sneering mockery, offers the fruits of the earth. Abel's offering is consumed in a bright flame, while that of Cain is thrown by a whirlwind to the ground. Upon which he resolves to throw down the altars, but is opposed by Abel, to whom he says, 'If thou lovest thyself, Stand back till I have strew'd this turf along Its native soil :-else ABEL (falls). They all leave him but Adah, who still adheres to him whom she loves, though guilty, with a melancholy attachment. The angel of the Lord enters and sets a mark on Cain's brow, and pronounces the judgement of heaven on him. After a short dialogue with Adah, they prepare to depart-and Cain expresses his melancholy desponding feelings over the body of Abel, with considerable force. I Can never meet thee more, nor ever dare After a perusal of this strange 'Mystery' what painful feelings are left upon the mind, to think that a genius so splendid, should be employed to render mankind, as miserable as himself; to endeavour to wrest from them, that belief, which is their prop, their stay, their support, under all the trials and sorrows of this world; a source of happiness to many, of hope to nearly all. duction of Byron's, for fear of the morals and creed of Does not every Father dread to hear of a new pro his children? does not every mother shudder, lest her daughters meet with some impure thoughts, or naked image of pollution? Oh! what a noble mind is here o'erthrown.' THE CLUB. NEMO. No. II.-Friday, Feb. 15th, 1822. At the meeting of the club this evening, most of the What hast thou done, my brother? members were at the Green Dragon before seven o'clock; and when the president took the chair, not one was absent. CAIN. Brother! As the sign, which hangs just below the middle After a long pause, looking slowly round, Cain window of our club-room, is above twenty years old, exclaims, 'Where am I? alone! Where's Abel? Abel! I pray thee, mock me not! I smote Adam, Eve, Adah, and Zillah, enter, and Eve with great and unnatural ferocity, taxes Cain with the murder, and curses him. It would have been more natural for the authoress of all this evil, to have mourned over the guilt of her first-born, than to have cursed him: (at least that is my humble opinion.) Adam's conduct is much more feeling and consistent. ADAM. Speak, my son! Speak, and assure us, wretched as we are, That we are not more miserable still. ADAH. Speak, Cain and say it was not thou! and has never been altered, (except to substitute the christian name of the present landlord for that of his father,) it has for some time been no easy matter to make out what animal it was intended to represent, and the Green Dragon has more than once been taken for the Brown Cow, or the Gaping Goose. For our parts, satisfied with the civil behaviour, and excellent liquor of our worthy host, we have never been very solicitous about his sign. Indeed one of our members, who is fond of antiquities, has repeatedly declared that the beautiful obscurity of the sign, was one great recommendation of the house; and that it was, in his opinion, far preferable to a tawdry picture, all green and gilding, which every ignorant fellow would know at first sight to be intended for a dragon. It is perhaps owing to the condition of the sign, that, although the lodge of odd fellows, at the George and Dragon has been subjected to some enquiries, only one person has yet succeeded in discovering the Green Dragon. This was a young gentleman whom the landlord, from something which he let fall about libels and damages, took to be an attorney's clerk, |