of affections to exist with such diversities of taste. For ourselves, we must confess, that while Reason has secured our esteem, Rhyme has run away with our hearts; we have sometimes thought with Jonathan, but we have always felt with Charles. THE UNCALLED AVENGER. AN AUTHENTIC ANECDOTE, RELATED BY M. OLDECOP, shoulders, and the wide-open bloody jaws of an enor- of the monster draws the woman backwards—ber arms less, she drops the reins, and continues her journey, The return of the victorious Russian army which had conquered Finland under the command of General Bux- Meantime the forest grows thinner, and an insulated hövden was attended with a circumstance which, it is farm-house, to which a side road leads, appears at a true, has at all times been usual in the train of large moderate distance. The horse, left to itself, follows this armies, but which naturally took place to a much greater new path it enters through an open gate; panting and extent in these high northern latitudes, where the hand foaming it stands still ; and amidst a circle of persons who of man has so imperfectly subdued the original savage- crowd round with good-natured surprise, the unhappy ness of the soil. Whole droves of famished bears and woman recovers from her stupefaction, to throw herself, wolves followed the troops on their return to the south, with a loud scream of anguish and horror, into the arms to feed on the chance prey afforded by the carcases of of the nearest human being, who appears to her as a guarthe artillery and baggage horses that dropped on the road.dian angel. All leave their work---the mistress of the In consequence of this, the province of Esthonia, to house the kitchen, the thresher the barn, the eldest son which several regiments directed their march, was so of the family, with his axe in his hand, the wood which he overrun with these animals, as greatly to endanger the has just cleft---to assist the unfortunate woman; and with safety of travellers. Hence, in a single circle of the a mixture of curiosity and piety, to learn by a hundred government, no less than forty persons of different ages enquiries, the circumstances of her singular appearance. were enumerated, who had been devoured during the Refreshed by whatever can be procured at the moment, winter by these ravenous beasts. It became hazardous the stranger gradually recovers the power of speech, and to venture alone and unarmed into the uninhabited parts ability to give an intelligible account of the dreadful trial of the country; nevertheless an Esthonian country woman which she has undergone. The insensibility with which boldly undertook a journey to a distant relation, not only fear and distress had steeled her heart, begins to disapwithout any male companion, but with three children, pear: but new terrors seize her---the dry eye seeks in the youngest of which was still at the breast. A light vain a tear---she is on the brink of boundless misery. sledge, drawn by one horse, received the little party; But her narrative had also excited conflicting feelings in the way was narrow, but well beaten, the snow on each the bosoms of her auditors; thougn pity, commisseration, side deep and impassable, and to turn back, without dismay, and abhorrence, imposed alike on all the same danger of sticking fast, not to be thought of. involuntary silence. One only, unable to command the overpowering emotions of his heart, advanced before the rest---it was the young man with the axe: his cheeks were pale with affright---his wildly-rolling eyes flashed ill-omened fire. What! 'he exclaimed; three children The first half of the journey was passed without accident. The road now ran along the skirts of a pine forest, when the traveller suddenly perceived a suspicious noise behind her. Casting back a look of alarm, she saw a troop of wolves trotting along the road, the number of which her fears hindered her from estimating. To escape by flight is her first thought; and with unsparing whip she urges into a gallop the horse, which itself snuffs the danger. Soon a couple of the strongest and most hungry of the beasts appear at her side, and seem disposed to stop the way. Though their intention seems to be only to attack the horse, yet the safety both of the mother and of the children depends on the preservation of the animal The danger raises its value; it seems entitled to claim for its preservation an extraordinary sacrifice. As the mariner throws overboard his richest treasures to appease the raging waves, so here has necessity reached a height at which the emotions of the heart are dumb before the dark commands of instinct; the latter alone suffers the unhappy woman to act in this distress. She seizes her second child, whose bodily infirmities have often made it an object of anxious care, whose cry even now offends her ear, and threatens to whet the appetite of the blood thirsty monsters-she seizes it with an involuntary motion, and before the mother is conscious of what she is doing, it is cast out and-enough of the horrid tale! The last ory of the victim still sounded in her ear, when she discovered that the troop, which had remained some minutes behind, again closely pressed on the sledge. The anguish of her soul increases, for again the murder-breathing forms are at her side. Pressing the infant to her heaving bosom, she casts a look on her boy, four years old, who crowds closer and closer to her knee: But, dear mother, I am good, am not I? You will not throw me into the snow, like the bawler?' And yet! and yet!' cried the wretched woman, in the wild tumult of despair-' Thou art good, but God is merciful!-Away! The dreadful deed was done. To escape the furies that raged within her, the woman exerted herself, with powerless lash, to accelerate the gallop of the exhausted horse. With the thick and gloomy forest before and behind her, and the nearer and nearer tramping of her ravenous pursuers, she almost sinks under her anguish; only the recollection of the infant that she holds in her arms-only the desire to save it, occupies her heart, and with difficulty enables it to bear up. She did not venture to look beher. All at once, two rough paws are laid on her thy own children! the sickly innocent, the imploring the magistrates, who caused the uncalled avenger to be arrested and brought to trial. He was of course sen- SCIENCE, ETC. NEW POWER. An apparatus has been invented for the manufactory of space of more than four-foot square. In many purposes it may be more applicable than steam. COLOURING MATTER IN CRABS, LOBSTERS, &c. M. J. L. Lassaigne, that crabs, lobsters, &c. contain a It appears, from a series of experiments made by red coloring principle, which may be extracted by means of Alcohol.--That this colour is not formed by the action of heat, but developed in the shell by the impulsion of that fluid. That there exists in that class of animals a highly coloured membrane, which appears to be the source of the colouring matter, which is insoluble in cold or boiling water, but soluble in sulphuric Ether, and pure cold Alcohol. IMPORTANT DISCOVERY. A young chemist has invented a new mode of tanning leather, by which raw hides are made perfect leather in less than six weeks, instead of lying twelve months in the tan-pit as heretofore. The expence too, is less than one-half by the new process. The gentleman who has bought the discoverer's invention, is a noted opposition Member and Contractor; and, from the terms of his stipulation with the fortunate chemist, we may form some judgment of the probable magnitude of the results. He has paid him £10,000 down: he has given him obligatory deeds, secured him £5,000 on the 1st of January; £5,000 per annum for the four years next succeeding, and afterwards £11,000 a-year for life! The young man thus raised to affluence, and, indeed, to consequence in society, by his own merit, is about twenty-six years of age. It is expected that the price of a pair of boots will not exceed eight shillings; and that a corresponding fall will be produced in all articles of leather manufacture.-(Globe.) A LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC MISCELLANY. This Paper is Published Weekly, and may be had of the Booksellers in Manchester; of Agents in many of the principal Towns in the Kingdom; and of the News-carriers. No. 34.-VOL. I. THE CLUB. No. XVII.-FRIDAY, SEPT. 13, 1822. Oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din WORDSWORTH. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1822. MR. ADDISON has, in his Dialogues concerning the use of antient Medals, imparted so much interest to the subject, that no man of taste can read his treatise without imbibing some of the spirit of an antiquary. It is to be regretted that the same author did not say something respecting collections of portraits; a subject which is, to say the least, quite as amusing as the other, and not inferior to it, perhaps, in point of utility. PRICE 34d. what subject a book is written, the countenance of the author is sure to recommend it. Publishers seem to know pretty well the value of the expedient, and we find the works of Sir Isaac Newton, and of Dr. Hallett, with the head of the author opposite to the title-page." recommend it even to those who have no taste for R. H. The president approved of every thing which the antiquarian had said, except his indirect sarcasm against females. He thought the examination of portraits a very pleasing amusement for The tradesman, who had paid much attention young ladies, and was glad to find that his daugh- to the conversation, declared, that he had no idea ter preferred it before the idle games which are that so much could be said in favour of portraits. One of the junior members purchased, a short now so fashionable. It was, he thought, of much He had formerly looked upon them as things of time ago, a handsome illustrated copy of Shakes- assistance in the study of history. When we exa- no value; and had often felt sorry for persons peare's plays, which he shewed to the chairman mine a portrait, we naturally enquire in whose who made collections of them, because he thought at our last meeting. "I am pleased to see that reign the subject of it lived, and thus acquire they were thus sinking money which would never you have got a fine portrait of the author," said some historical information relative to that period. bring them in any interest! He now, however, the old gentleman. "How strikingly," he added, This information recurs to us every time we see thought differently. As he intended his eldest "may the genius of the great dramatist be seen the same portrait, and thus becomes fixed in the son for his own business, he thought he could in his countenance." "And his propensity to mind. When we meet with a portrait of Morti- not do better than to buy him some portraits of deer-stealing, too, I presume," remarked the doc-mer, we recollect the character of his protectress, tradesmen, who had raised themselves in life by tor, jocularly. "I feel a contempt for the idle and the consequences of her profligacy and her industry and economy, and become, in the end, lord reveries of physiognomy. This doctrine is one of intrigues: when we look at portraits of the Medici, mayors of London, or, at least, city aldermen. the many illusions which credulity has borrowed we think of their patronage of learning, of the Öther members made remarks upon the subfrom fancy." "Your opinion can only be owing advantages which have flowed from it, of the cha-ject, but as these did not excite much interest, to your not having well considered the subject," racters of some of their contemporaries, and are it is not thought necessary to trouble our readers with them. observed the antiquarian. "Few persons" conti- not very likely to forget their erudite and accomnued he, "can admit all the principles of Lavater, plished biographer. for some of them are very fanciful; yet fewer persons, I am sure, can reject the science altogether, because many of its deductions are consistent with experience. The examination of portraits, I have, for many years, found to be a very pleasing occupation during my leisure hours; and I shall always recommend it as a study in which pleasure and improvement are combined. When I am examining the features of a great inan, I sometimes fancy I can discover those traces which exhibit his mental character. In the portrait of Lord Byron, for example, we perceive much capacity in his lofty forehead, and much imagination in his sleepy eye, and in the general outline of his features. No one who has ever seen a portrait of the Earl of Chatham could be so dull as not to discover that it represented more than an ordinary man. A person who has any turn for physiognomy, will observe in the countenance of the late Mr. Fox, those qualities of mind which Sir Walter Scott has so well deseribed, the -Genius high and lore profound. And feelings keen, and fancy's glow, to which he owed distinction much more than to his birth." "There is, apart from physiognomy, one eircumstance in favour of the study of portraits," said the antiquarian with a smile, "which might "I have observed,” said the President, “in most persons of education, a natural curiosity to see the features of departed genius. This is an inclination which it is desirable to cultivate in young persons in particular. It assists them very much in the study of human nature. They acquire a habit of observation in the examination of portraits, which they may be instructed to transfer to other objects. It will generally be found that portraits of distinguished men excite, in well disposed minds, an inclination to imitate excellence. I recollect having heard of a great man, whose name I have forgotten, being so much struck with the sight of a portrait, that he resolved to follow the steps of the person whom it represented; and by doing so for some time, the practice of study became quite habitual to him, and he ultimately made so much progress, as to surpass the individual whom it had been his early ambition only to imitate." "A portrait," said the antiquarian, "has a great effect in promoting the sale of a book. A friend of mine, a bookseller in the country, who is a man of much shrewdness, had a mind some time ago to increase his trade, having married a farmer's daughter, who brought him fifty pounds. He accordingly wrote to his agent in London, desiring him to send a collection of the best works, the choice of which he left entirely to his agent's judgment, after he had stipulated that each book should have at least one portrait. He succeeded very well in the speculation, and continues to attribute his success, in more senses than one, to the heads of the authors. It matters not upon THE AUGUSTAN AGE IN ENGLAND. (Concluded from page 259.) We now come to our living prose writers. On a first view, this age does not seem so rich in them as in poets; but we think, on examination, this will not be found to be the case. The first and principal cause of this is the number and excellence of our periodical works. Writers of the first eminence in science-in art-in literature-take this mode of publishing; and the consequence is, that these works engross a great mass of talent which would otherwise find vent in independent publications. We may, indeed, bring in support of our hypothesis the existence of works of this kind. No former age could boast of a periodical and certain supply of admirable writing as the present value of our journals enables us to do. As the epitome-we may say the founder of this species of composition, we may name Mr. JEFFREY. We consider his style the perfection of English prose writing. It has that exact degree of conciseness which attains perfect vigour, without becoming dry or dissonant. It possesses the eloquence and euphony of florid style, united with all the energy of condensed expression. We have always regretted that the nature of Mr. Jeffrey's productions should necessarily render them anonymous. How many have dwelt with delight upon his writings, to whom his very name is unknown. It is from this cause that i are delightful compositions. Mr. Hazlitt is a most subtle thinker-a most acute and logical reasoner. He often starts from false premises, but his deductions are always justly drawn. In the Lectures, however, his paradoxical turn of thought can find, as we have said, no place. His comments on Shakspeare are worthy of their subject; they are poetical and enthusiastic. His writings on poetry and literature in general are marked with the utmost taste and discrimination; and we may notice that his praises are always more warm than his condemnations are severe. He has a most happy peculiarity of phrase, which has the power of setting before you a whole train of thought by the felicitous imagery of a single word. We know no works which we should so willingly put into a foreigner's hand, to give him a due opinion of our literature, as Mr. Hazlitt's. authors, immeasurably inferior, have acquired a comprehensive mind entitles him to distinction higher fame; for, from his name not being before among original thinkers, and the lively polish of the general public, the pronouncing it does not his fancy, and exquisite purity of his taste, renpronounce that indescribable effect which arises der him one of the first of eloquent prose-writers. from those to which genius has given an hallowed Other metaphysicians appear greatly deficient in sound. We trust that Mr. Jeffrey will, at some copiousness of thought, in liberality and hightime, collect those parts of his writings which mindedness, when compared with Stewart. We relate to general subjects, and publish them with are not disposed to admit that metaphysics can be his name. We think that he owes this to him- of much direct utility; a smattering of them does self; and we are sure that no literary gift of but administer to vanity, and is frequently pernigreater value could be presented to the public. cious; while to enter deeply into their study reThe position we are arguing to prove has the quires more time and abstraction than ought, in inestimable aid of 'The AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.' general, to be devoted to what is not more pracTo be able to enrol his mighty name in the list tically useful. But Mr. Stewart is the most useof living writers is almost sufficient of itself to ful of his class; and, although he may rate his establish our claim of pre-eminence for the pre- favourite study more highly than it deserves, still sent day. No author has been so much praised- we must acknowledge that his works cannot be and yet no eulogy has exceeded his merits. To read without great benefit. His reasoning is at talk lightly of the era which possesses this colossal once subtle, cautious and profound. He excites Besides these authors of distinguished name, mind does appear to us the very height of pre- a keen and aspiring curiosity; and, while he there are many single compositions which have judice, or ignorance. Where are the writings raises our admiration for the dignity of the human acquired, and will retain, a prominent station in which have administered an equal degree of de- mind, he ably demonstrates the true limits of its literature. And here again we feel the disadvan light with his? Where are the writings, the power. His warm and steady belief in the final tage of pitting modern productions against estaimages of which have become so absolutely part prevalence of truth and justice-his high expec-blished names; for some that we would gladly of our minds? We know of none-Shakspeare tation of the progressive improvement of society cite are of so recent a date, that though we are himself is blemished by the faults of the barba-fill the heart with pleasure; and, while the confident they will be confirmed in their present rous age in which he wrote. His quibbles-his imagination is agreeably excited, the understand- fame, that fame is yet too green to allow us to occasional indecency-his frequent obsoletenessing is rigorously satisfied. His style is meta- call it in aid of our argument. ANASTASIUS may are faults, not of himself, but undoubtedly of his phorical; yet it possesses an easy flow and calm now, however, be considered as exempt from writings. The Author of Waverley, on the con- simplicity which are peculiarly suited to philoso- this exception; and we do, we must say, look on trary, has the inestimable advantage of living at phical subjects. His eloquence is solemn, and it as a splendid addition to the literary rank of a time when the development of his genius meets rolls majestically on, like some fine river, whose the present age. We do not wonder at its having with no impediment. The language is perfected deep bed so contains its copious waters, as to been attributed to Lord Byron. It has all the and fixed; and the taste of the times prevents allow it the rapidity, without the turbulence or profound thought, rapid description, and burning his offending by the faults which Shakspeare noise, of shallower streams. He warms us with energy, of his compositions: and as the gentlecommitted to please. We look on him as what a philosophical benevolence which keeps up the man who was first whispered as its author was Shakspeare would have been, had he written at ardour, while it does not disturb the serenity, of unknown in the literary world, it was natural this time of day. In all the attributes of com- the mind. His critical taste-his pure admiration enough to doubt the rumour till he confirmed it position he is scarcely his inferior. In pathetic of genius-and his keen sense of poetical beauty, by the publication of his name. By this splendid and passionate writing-in description-in hu- would have constituted him one of the first of work he has acquired at once a distinguished mour-he is as admirable as if each were his own writers on belles-lettres, had he more frequently niche in the literary temple of his country. Inpeculiar style. He has sailed round the world given to the world such productions as his admir- stantly-and, beyond doubt, deservedly he has of the heart, and touched at every port in his able essays on Taste and Beauty, or as his Life been placed by the side of the foremost in intel voyage. We feel towards him less as an author of Dr. Robertson-which is more allied to elegant lectual reputation, The name of Hope has been for whose works we are grateful, than as a friend and philosophical criticism than to biography. joined in fellowship with those of the authors of in whose exquisite conversation we take infinite But, in reading the works of Stewart, highly as Childe Harold and of Waverley. delight. The works of this author are so univer- we admire the author, we can never forget the sally known, that it would be needless to cite man. His virtuous and noble character is so proofs of what we have said; indeed, did our apparent in all his writings, that while we keenly limits permit us to do so, we should refrain, from delight in the beauty of the composition-its glow the conviction that we should not be able to stop, of imagery, and elegance of taste we feel inwhen once we were involved in the maze of his clined to reverence the qualities of the heart, enchantments. Into the question of who is the which we perceive must equal the head which dieAuthor of Waverley,' we shall not enter. The tated the page. external proofs are so strong in favour of Sir Walter Scott, that we suppose we must subscribe to the general belief-though we were very long in doing so, from the extreme superiority of these productions to Sir Walter's avowed works. It is strange how great a proportion Scotland bears in the merit of the present day. To confine ourselves to prose writing, of which we are now speaking, the author of Waverley, Jeffrey, Alison, Mackenzie, and Stewart, all belong to this favoured nation. One name, indeed, which we have mentioned, that of Mackenzie, though it belongs to a living man, can scarcely be said to be that of a living writer. His late appearance In addition to these, may we mention the name of WASHINGTON IRVING? Our language, at least, if not our country, can claim this distinguished writer. That link will ever remain unbroken between us and our brethren of the West; and render us fellow-sharers in one species of glory. Mr. Irving is another instance of that union, formerly so rare, but now so frequent, of The writings of ALISON we look on as among pathos and humour. It is difficult to say whether the first specimens of pulpit eloquence. Never Rip Van Winkle causes us most laughter, or The were the powers of the imagination more strongly Widow and her Son most tears. Perhaps, howbrought in aid of the cause of religion, We ever, Mr. Irving's happiest productions are those think one of Alison's Sermons the most calculated which mingle delicate mirth with melancholy of all things to win a sinner from the error of his feeling, as in his beautiful sketches of our Christways. The beautiful melody of the language mas customs. The shadings by which present the exquisite imagery-the perfect manner, as enjoyment and the pensiveness of regretful rewe have understood, of delivery-and the energy collection become joined with one another are, in of impassioned exhortation-all conjoined in these our view, the excelling merit of this delightful admirable discourses, are pre-eminently fitted, to writer. We know not whether we had the right use his own beautiful expression, "to send us to cite his name, in speaking of the Augustan back to the world with our understandings ele-Age in England; but who that has read this vated, and our hearts made better." We think powerful appeal on the subject, can wish to keep there is no wickedness which would not soften at up any distinction of this kind between his countrymen and our own? as an editor, gives him a claim to be considered a the perusal of the Sermon on Autumn. contemporary; but, otherwise, he must be reckoned an author of the last age. We shall not, therefore, perhaps, be allowed to cite his merits as bearing on the present question; but we cannot suffer the mention of his name to pass without giving our humble testimony to his In speaking of contemporary prose-works, we cannot omit Mr. HAZLITT's criticisms. We rate them very highly. They display the most intense enjoyment of poetical beauty, and the warmest adiaration of intellectual power. In these writings there is no place for that love of paradox which runs away with him in his Essays on general subjects:-though, when this blemish does not appear, we must admit that the Essays also There is yet another class of authors of which we can now boast-of which there was scarcely any example in the other ages of which we have spoken-we mean our female writers. We are not among those who judge of the works of Baillie, Edgeworth, Opie, Holford, with reference to their being written by women :-we try them by their own merits: and, on this ground, we view them as capable of shedding increased glory on our time. We must be allowed-far as those of the present advanced age. Let any perthis article has stretched-to say a few words son well versed in English literature weigh well concerning the merit of two of these authors-all that we have said, and refer as he proceeds, with one splendid exception, the first female to the authors we mentioned-let him free himwriters who have ever appeared. self from the bias which his ear gives him in favour of established names, and against those which are new and unclassical-for to this prejudice we must still recur-let him, in short, judge of all writings on their own merits only and we have small doubt that he will concur with us in calling this 'The Augustan Age in England.' MISS BAILLIE has cramped her genius by adhering to a peculiar line of composition. Developing only one passion in a play, was an impracticable object, and the endeavour to attain it has thrown an air of constraint over her writings. Still they abound with passages of poetry, the merit of which, in all ways, has been scarcely excelled. Pathos, passion, and simplicity, are equally in her command; and she has made use of each in turn with the most powerful and successful effect. Count Basil and De Montford must ever hold a foremost rank in poetry. With the name of EDGEWORTH, most of our childhood's recollections are entwined. From our earliest remembrance up to the present hour, her writings have yielded us delight. The noble ambition of being useful to her kind, has been that which has guided Miss Edgeworth's way; and never was ambition more perfectly accomplished. That she has led the inexperienced-confirmed the wavering-reclaimed the erring-are truths to which we nearly all can bear witness, whether as children or as men. To her we individually owe, in great measure, our literary tastes-to her we owe serious benefit on more occasions than we care public to avow. The direct enjoyment also, which we have derived from her works is proportionate with the advantages of which we have been speaking. In her writings, Genius has been made to minister to Virtue-the beauties of literary composition have been considered only as the means of conferring permanent and exalted benefit. We have now gone through the more prominent writers of the present time; but we are conscious that we have omitted many whose names will hereafter stand high, but whose reputation is yet too newly-fledged to allow us to profit by it in the support of our hypothesis We hope that we have established that hypothesis in the minds of many. With some, indeed, we believe all we have said was needless; for we recollect when we once broached to a friend the opinion we have now supported, he said, "Why write on it?-it is a mere truism." Many, however, we know have not thought so: and we trust, at least, that we shall have led them to give some thought to the distinguished claims of our living writers. We are far from putting them in competition with all the rest of English literature; we say only that they are superior to any one age. In the whole of this discussion we have been cramped for want of space, which has prevented us from quoting proofs of many of the positions which may now to some readers appear the most startling. A mere rehearsal, however, of the names of which we have spoken in detail, will serve to shew how pre-eminently distinguished is the present age. In poetry we have named Byron, Crabbe, Campbell, Moore, Milman, Cornwall, Rogers, Shelley, Hunt. Maturin, Baillie,-to say nothing of Scott, Southey, Coleridge, and Wordsworth. In prose, besides the periodical works, we have cited the Author of Waverley, Jeffrey, S ewart, Alison, Hazlitt, Hope, Irving and Edgeworth. Where, we will ask, is an assemblage like this to be found in any other age? If some of the names appear new and strange, take the, wo ks of these authors, and we will fearlessly put them in competition with even those of the Shaksperian era itself. The genius of the writers of those days may have been equal to that of ours, but the very condition of the times prevented their writings from equalling 1 SCRAPIANA. No. VIII. Health ye sugar that sweetens all temporal mercys. 'Tis woe from men, if woe it be. He that enjoys the greatest office, is but a statue made of glass. Hin contained ye quantity of 72 egg-shells. REFORMING A WIFE. Mynheer Van der who in 1796 lived in high style on the Keizer Gragt, in Amsterda.a, had a very modest wife, who dressed most extravagantly, played From the common-place book of a Lancashire Cler-high, gave expensive routs, and showed every disposition Hildebrand first yt finally forbad marriage to ye Clergy. Anselm set yt matter on foot in England. Heaven's hand can only sett a broken heart. Heretical doctrines never more dangerous, then when served up in clean dishes and washen cups by men of blameless lives. Habemus pro mari mundum, pro navi ecclesiam, pro velo poenitentiam, pro gubernaculo crucem, pro nautâ Christum, pro vento Sp. Sanctum. Chrisost. comentarium in Matthæum. Honor transit cum onere. Hebrews when they would commend Women put them in ye Masculine gender: when they would dis-comend men put them in feminine. ye Happy man yt has a true friend at his need, but He that is disposed to kill his dog, tells men he more happy he yt hath no need of his friend. is mad. to squander money quite as fast as her husband gained it. She was young, handsome, vain, and giddy, and completely the slave of fashion. Her husband had not the politeness to allow himself to be ruined by her unfeeling folly and dissipation; he complained of her conduct to her parents and nearest relations, whose advice was of no more use than his own. Next he had recourse to a respectable minister of the Lutheran church, who might as well have preached to the dead. It was in vain to deny elegant, the fascinating wife of the rich Van der her money, for no tradesman would refuse to credit the Involved as the young lady was in the vortex of fashionable dissipation, she had not yet rained her health and reputation; and her husband, by the advice of his friend M-k-r, determined to send her for six months to a Verbatering Huisen, or House for the Reformation of Manners, such as is to be found in most of the towns of Holland. With the utmost secrecy he laid before the wasteful extravagance, and incorrigible levity; added to municipal authorities, the most complete proofs of her which, she had recently attached herself to gaming with French officers of rank, who lay under an imputation of being remarkably expert in levying contributions. She his cashier, a stipulated sum every month, which was was already in debt upwards of thirty thousand florins to tradesmen, although her husband allowed her to take from more than competent to meet the current expenses of his household; while to meet a loss which occurred in play, her finest jewels were deposited in the hands of a benevolent money lender, who accommodated the necessitous, upon unexceptionable security being previously left in his custody. tile wife, of whom he was rationally fond, and at whose Her husband was full twenty years older than his vola reformation he aimed, before she should be carried too far away by the stream of fashionable dissipation. Against his will, she had agreed to make one of a party of ladies, who were invited to a grand ball and supper, at the house of a woman of rank and faded character. Her husband, at breakfast, told her she must change her course of life, or her extravagance would make him a bankrupt, and her children beggars. She began her usual playful way of answer, saying, "She certainly had been a little too thoughtless, and would soon commence a thorough reformation." "You must begin to day," said her husband, "and as a proof of your sincerity, I entreat you to drop the company of, and to spend the evening at home this day, with me and your children." Quite impossible, my dear man," said the modest wife " in reply,," I have given my word, and cannot break it." dressed, to meet that party, remember for the next six "Then," said her husband, "if you go out this day, months these doors will be barred against your return; are you still resolved to go?" "Yes," said the indignant lady, "if they were to be for ever barred against me!" Without either anger or malice, Mynheer Van der told her "not to deceive herself, for as certain as that was her determination, so sure would she find his foretelling verified.' She told him, "If nothing else had power to induce her to go, it would be his menaces." With this they parted, the husband to prepare the penitentiary chamber for his giddy young wife, and the latter to eclipse every rival at the ball that evening. To afford her a last chance of avoiding an ignominy which it pained him to inflict, he went once more to try to wean her from her imprudent courses, and proposed to set off that evening for Zutphen, where her mother dwelt; but he found her sullen, and busied with milliners and dressers, and all the paraphernalia of splendid attire. At the appointed hour, the coach drove to the door, and the beautiful woman (full dressed, or rather undressed) tripped gaily down stairs, and stepping lightly into the coach, told the driver to stop at, on the Keizer Gragt. It was then dark, and she was a little surprised to find the coach had passed one of the city gates; the sound of a clock awoke her as from a dream. She pulled the check-string, but the driver kept on; she then called out, when some one behind the coach told her, in a suppressed voice, that "she was a prisoner, and must be still!" The shock was severe; she trembled every limb, and was near fainting with terror and alarm, when the coach entered the gates of a Verbatering Huisen, where she was doomed to take up her residence. The matron of the house, a grave, severe, yet well-bred person, opened the door, and calling the lady by her name, requested her to alight. "Where am I? I beseech you tell me, and why I am brought here! "You will be informed of every thing, madam, if you will please to walk in doors." "Where is my husband?" said she in wild affright, "sure he will not let me be murdered?" "It was your husband who drove you hither, madam, be is now upon the coachbox!" This intelligence was conclusive; all her assurance forsook her, she submitted to be conducted into the house, and sat pale, mute, and trembling, her face and dress exhibiting the most striking contrast. The husband, deeply affected, first spoke, He told her, "that he had no other means to save her from ruin, and he trusted the remedy would be effectual; and when she quitted that retreat, she would be worthy of his esteem." She then essayed by the humblest protestations, by tears and entreaties, to be permitted to return, and vowed, "that never more, whilst she lived, would she ever offend him. Save me (said she) the mortification of this punishment, and my future conduct shall prove the sincerity of my reformation." Not to let her off too soon, she was shown her destined apartment and dress, the rules of the bouse, and the order of her confinement, during six months! She was completely overpowered with terror, and fell senseless on the floor. When she recovered, she found her husband chafing her temples, and expressing the utmost anxiety for her safety. "I have been unworthy of your affection," said the fair penitent, "but spare me this ignominious fate; take me back to your home, and never more shall you have cause to reproach me." Her husband, who loved her with unabating affection, notwithstanding all her levity, at last relented, and the same coach drove her back to her home; where not one of the domestics (a trusty man servant excepted) had the least suspicion of what had occurred. As soon as her husband led her to her apartment, she dropt on her knee, and implored his pardon; told him the extent of all her debts, begged him to take her to Zutphen for a few weeks, and promised so to reduce her expenditure, as to make good the sums she had so inconsiderately thrown away. Allowing for the excessive terror she felt, when instead of being driven to -'s rout, she was proceeding round the ramparts, outside the city gates, which she could not wholly overcome, she spent the happiest evening of her life with her husband; and from that day abandoned her former career of dissipated folly, and became all that her husband desired, a good wife and an affectionate mother. POETRY. THE LAST REQUEST. When lowly in the cold, damp grave I'm laid, If, at the close of day, thy feet shall stray Gaze but upon me as I shrouded lie, And to thy own sweet lips, these pale oue's press ;— Oh! let them but receive my latest sigh, Let me but calmly sink in thy caress. My picture, lov'd one,---let it find repose, Where I before so oft have slept in bliss, With it, in solitude, thy grief disclose, Perhaps 'twill claim a tear,---perhaps a kiss. Take too the harp in sorrow's darkest hour, For all its wonted radiance still will shine, And in the fullest tide its sweetness pour, Forgetting not, that once, those notes were mine! 'Twill bid thee dream awhile of former joys, And heal the wound which sorrow hath imprest; 'Twill bid the fairest scenes of Fancy rise, Whilst recollection warms thy cheerless breast. Seek too for smiles where wit, and mirth are found, Yet midst the echo of their happy roar, Let but thy heart with fond remembrance bound, My mem'ry claim one sigh---I ask no more! Sept. 12th, 1822. TO M*****. Once more that form has met my sight, I so much wish'd,-yet fear'd to see! Ah! could I close in gloomy night, These eyes thy presence made so bright, H. B. P. Till they again might rest on thee! I think my guardian angel kind, Could the same bond its plaits entwine, TO HOME. R. W. A. Oh! land of my father's, whilst wand'ring a stranger, Oh, Love !---home !---and country, I bid ye farewell! Ab friends of my youth, do ye sometimes remember, STANZAS. I saw a falling leaf soon strew R. W. A. Such is Ambition's foil'd endeavour; The falling leaf is soon at rest, While stars that fall, fall on for ever. PRESTON-GUILD-MASQUERADE. A masquerade is like- -No! a masquerade is unlike every thing else in the world---excepting the theatre; and it is only like the theatre as that resembles the world,--for all the world's a stage.' A masquerade then is like the world itself, and nothing else; and the revellers of its busy scene are all mankind's epitome.' In both life and the masque, the people strive to disguise themselves, to appear what they are not and to conceal what they are; in both the best counterfeit meets with the most applause and the surest success; there are insignificants in one and dominoes in the other; fancy-dresses and inconsistents; and a period happens to both when the visor is to be thrown aside, and the actor revealed. But there is sometimes a kind of sincerity in a masquerade which we rarely meet with in the world, and which, though at best but honesty in indirection, is valuable because it is honesty at all. Thus men, (and women too,) who coop themselves up within the confines of some character which they think proper for their interest to assume; which they resort to from necessity, or perhaps adopt through caprice, on such an occasion, give a loose to their natural inclinations and propensities, and, for a brief hour, breathe, as it were, the pure air of their native sentiments and tempers. And here, without any affec tation, we cannot but admire both the wisdom and good. ness of Providence in having cast our several spheres of action in his world for a single experiment of our own wills must be sufficient to convince us how foolishly we should choose for ourselves. Like the children, in the fable, who were allowed, for one day, the full enjoyment of their desires, we find mortification and disappointment to be the issue. Besides, we have so many dispositions and passions to gratify, that we know not how to fix our election, so that each shall have its due exercise of fruition; and, as they in turn predominate, we resolve, unfix and waver, and eventually decide without reflec tion and determine without choice. : Now we do stoutly deny that there is no use or advantage to be drawn from a masquerade, as some fastidious, parchment-cheeked, straight-locked and narrow-souled cavillers pretend; and we think we bave demonstrated as pretty a scheme of ethics, from this vain, wicked, devilish and damnable pomp, as any man needs to desire. But then replies parchment-cheek, 'morality is a heathenish pride and abomination, a slough of destruetion, yea! the pit of death.' To which we wont answer a word. As bad however are those who never seek for instruction in scenes of festivity and pleasure, but deliver themselves up to their heart's delight, and fulfil the voluptaousness of their souls, without one serious thought or one profitable reflection. These are the abusers of the world; and, in whatever situation they are placed, court nothing but their own ease and worship nothing but their own lusts. Far from painted pomp'‹free from the peril of the envious court' they idly taste the luxury of sweet retirement and feed in listless apathy on the blessings and beauties of the fair creation---cannot Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, We have said thus much by way of declaring our opinion that masquerades, assemblies, and all that sort of thing are by no means valueless, nor so entirely destitute of all good purpose, as some people think proper to represent them bat in well-ordered minds (we have adduced our own as an example), may properly give occasion to many useful, and, we will add, even pious meditations. Dulce est desipere in loco,' quoth Master Horace which is as much as to say, how pleasant it is for a man to play the fool on an occasion. We suppose we are not exempt from the infirmities of our fellows, for, though naturally of assad and grave' a constitution as would fit os for the High-Mastership of Macclesfield School, we had not few tinglings of pleasure when we arrayed ourselves in a hoop and petticoat and a negligé of fine flowered French silk, which belonged to our great grandmother, and ascended nearer to heaven by the altitude of a chopine,' and a head-dress sophisticated with cushions, powder and pomatum, of the most fashionable magnitude of those good old times' from which we are so barbarously de generated. Having squeezed ou rself, with no little digiculty, into a chair, we proceeded to the scene of entertainment, and found there, about ten o'clock, more than seven hundred persons, every one of which looked as |