ger; I must try my pen against this vulgar plebeian. As such an essay is out in the Imperial, our trade may be considerably deteriorated; the waltzing may be abandoned; the jigging given up, so that all the innocent, elegant, rational, and useful art of which I am the erudite professor, may fall to the ground. Alas for the dancing

school!"

I can next conceive him proceeding to some classical friend, perhaps one of the Patres conscripti of some neighbouring academy :

ner.

66

66

My dear friend," says PHI, (for I must put the initial in plain English,) 'you must understand, that a grovelling soul has written against dancing, he has said such things of it; would you believe it, he has called it a cursed system? aye; what do you think of that?" The scholar drew himself up to his full height, stretched out his leg, and extended his arm, in what he thought a peculiarly classical man"It is all envy," said he, "envy that withers at another's joy, and hates the excellence it cannot reach." "Bravo!" says Phi. My dear friend," said our academic, write." "So I intend," said our hero. Put in some awful sentences of Latin or Greek," 'twill frighten them; some ignorant fellow this, who never ranged o'er the verdant hill of Parnassus, nor drank of the golden Helicon. "I'll tell you what I've been thinking," | said Phi; "let us put a Greek signature, that will shew that I understand Greek, but am not pedantic enough to put in much; but if they do rouse me, by the bridge of my fiddle, I'll do such deeds!" Send them to the dwelling of night," said the scholar. "Yes," said our hero, interrupting, and I've been thinking that this is some puritanical sort of a being; therefore if we can torture a passage or two from the bible, to convey our ideas, and to stop his mouth, I think it will be a good plan. You know a great deal about it, I'll warrant; I've heard some story about seventy men being shut up in the Old Bailey, or somewhere, and that there they wrote the bible in Greek. You've read it through, of course; as for me, I've not read the bible for many years. My old grandmother, poor soul! used sometimes to make me read it, when her eyesight failed; but she, alas! is gone: but you know all about it, with

out doubt." "No," said the scholar, "I never read the bible, and seldom hear it, except when I go to church; however, we'll try what can be done in that way." You know what Virgil says: It may indeed be applied to you,

"Qui novus hic nostris successit sedibus hospes,

Quem sese ore ferens! quam forti pectore et armis."

Phi did not know any thing about it, but went off as well satisfied, thinking of a grand flourish, like a semibreve on his fiddle, with which he would commence the said essay.

As one evidence of the correctness of Mr. Burchell's idea, Phi informs us, that from his infancy he has been the friend of dancing. Then he gives us the fine period to which I have before alluded. In this, however, he is very much out of tune, playing one note on a sharp, another on a flat, &c. whereas, to have corresponded in key with the rest of the piece, the whole should have been flat.

"I am induced," says he, "to enlist under your imperial banners, (that's a la militaire,) and to mingle with the crowd of candidates (something in the boroughmongering line,) which will flock to your standard, and contend for promotion (here again is the warlike) to an honourable situation under your government, (board of excise,) during the election of the ensuing month, (very parliamentary.)" In this essay, Phi has spoken like a man of the world, he has no doubt made friends among the young and thoughtless, and has the support of those who are lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God; and while his production will dwell with pleasure in the minds of many, mine will only survive in the small corner it occupies in this Magazine, and in my own collection of loci communes; and the public, for whose benefit I write, will allow it to float down the stream of forgetfulness, to the ocean of oblivion.

I have a task peculiarly thankless, which I will fulfil as philosophically as I can, and so arm myself with honesty, that all my opponent's threats

66

may pass by me as the idle wind, which I respect not." Phi allows that the young are surrounded by temptations, and that it is necessary that care and watchfulness should be used.

But let us examine what are Phi's modes of using care and watchfulness. First, he would furnish them with ornamental dress; his motive here would be to increase their modesty and humility: secondly, introduce them into the ball-room; this would be to impress on their minds the vanity of the world, and the necessity of seeking mental enjoyment: next he would associate them with mixed company, for the purpose of informing them that they should be select in their acquaintance: then, he would allow them to dance for several hours; this would be to instruct them in the value of time: and, lastly, while they were in a high state of perspiration, he would lead them into the open air, to shew them the necessity of taking care of their health. Let us, however, examine the subject, and ascertain whether this exercise does conduce to health.

Dancing, if used in moderation, in proper places, and at proper times, may, I allow, be useful for the invigoration of the body; but in general it is carried on at improper hours, in crowded places, and to an unjustifiable excess. The consequence is, that many who have practised it are fatigued, and will acknowledge that they feel themselves considerably injured by their pleasure. Let it not be imagined that this is an invention of my own, as I assure you, Mr. Editor, I have had repeated confessions of this kind, not only with regard to assemblies, but also private parties, on which Phi seems to found so much of his argument; for it is notorious, that on such occasions, the company seldom part before the dreary noon of night is passed, and frequently not until the horizon begins to be gilded with the reflected rays of the approaching sun. Phi then inquires, "Does it (dancing) not more frequently enter the family circle, and constitute a prominent feature in the happiness of social life?" No; and the minds whose happiness lies only in a trifling amusement, are not to be envied.

I have been accustomed, like the ancients, to consider the hearth sacred to the lares and penati: my lares are social comforts; my penati, domestic enjoyments; but within this sacred circle, I never yet included dancing. A strong argument against Phi's idea may be gathered from those families where dancing is never practised.

Are they unhappy? No; but, in general, more domestic comfort is distilled from the society of such persons, than from those who practise dancing. Again, if dancing produce domestic happiness, consequently those nations who are most in the habit of dancing, must have most happiness of a domestic kind. The French and Italians must be happier than Englishmen, for assuredly they have more dancing; but Britons will not yield the palm of domestic happiness to the fantastical Italian, or the frivolous Frenchman. Phi pretends to be a very warm hearted being: Is he a patriot? Does he say that the happiness of an Englishman's fire-side consists in dancing? If he does, I fear I must give him up as incorrigible. "Is the village green," says Phi, "entirely deserted by rustic swains and country maids?" I believe that it is, in the county in which I have the happiness to be resident, and yet no bad effects result from this desertion.

Mixed company is an argument, of which I say nothing. As to boardingschools, objections of such weight may be, and have been urged, that many judicious persons have refused to send their children thither.

66

The next paragraph has almost exhausted my patience; Phi compares dancing to printing, to wine, and to the laws of our country. How just! dancing at best but an amusement, printing, as Phi himself says, one of the greatest blessings God ever bestowed upon mankind.' However, if good and evil both result from one thing, balance them, and ascertain which preponderates. Printing has sometimes sent into the world books that have a tendency to unhinge the mind, such as novels, &c. &c. But is it not abundantly oftener, that it excites ambition to follow the paths of heroes, statesmen, or divines; and has it not immortalized the names of men, who have graced the page of history, or the paths of learning? It may have occasionally deluded some with false ideas of science; but has it not opened the eyes of hundreds of others, to behold the true nature of the works of God, and led them to exclaim with the Psalmist, "O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all," Ps. civ. 24. It has sometimes disseminated sentiments of sedition; but has it not abundantly

overbalanced this evil, by dispersing that book over all the earth, which teaches us, that we should "fear God, and honour the king." 1 Pet. ii. 17. It has sometimes been used as a vehicle of infidelity; but has it not a thousand times oftener been the means of inculcating, that "there is one God, and

one Mediator between God and men," 1 Tim. ii. 5. I must beg to refer Phi to the same criterion, with regard to wine, and the laws of our country.

66

Phi then proceeds, as if he thought every one would see the justness of his comparison. Why then abrogate the whole system of dancing, (notwithstanding the numerous benefits which are derived from it,) because a few objectionable branches have been grafted on the upper parts of the stem?" as much as to say, If you destroy this system, you must destroy printing, because it has occasionally sent into the world improper books; wine, because some have been made drunk by it; and the laws of our country, because some have been hanged, who ought not to have been so punished. How sagacious! If, however, Phi's simile about the tree be correct, it goes very much against his own argument, for if there be objectionable branches on a tree, it plainly proves that they grew there, for, as it is well known, those branches which are grafted are of some value, and are so treated that they may be preserved; and who would graft objectionable branches? If, therefore, these branches are the natural offspring of the tree, it plainly proves that the root is not good. (To be continued.)

POETRY.

WINTER.

Borne on the northern winds, stern Winter

comes,

And whiten'd is his brow :-his chilly breath
Causes the Autumn flower to droop and die,
And nips the latest bud upon the stalk;
While fields, where once dwelt Summer's
loveliness,

Are cover'd with the fairest, purest snow,
That at his bidding floats along the air :-
Lock'd in his icy fetters is the stream,
That oft its music issued through the glade;
Depriv'd of life it seems :-the pebbles stand,
Nor roll against each other's bosom smooth:
The trees have chang'd their verdant foliage,
And now are seen dressed in virgin white :-
No. 37.-VOL. IV.

Still there are charms in Winter to be found.
Saw ye the robin perch'd upon the snow?
Nor fears he man, but stands, and looks, and
begs;

And saw ye rosy Health just skip along, Cloth'd in the fleece of sheep that bleating roam'd,

now;

And sought their food, but who are captives For 'tis the time she mostly holds her stay?— Were there no other charm-this-this alone Would now suffice for me the first, the best : And though dark clouds will sometimes lower, Still when they flee, and nought obscures the sky,

So bright, so clear it is, one wondering, sees, Or fancies that one sees, the stars increase :And then we leave the world" at earlier hour,

Than when warm-breathing Summer walks

abroad;

And we can read by clear and sparkling fire The poets whom we love,-communion hold With friends and children, who had else been

out,

Wandering in rapture o'er the Summer scene:
Yes, Winter has charms to those who live
Winter, as well as Summer, fills the mind
aright;-
With grand ideas of Him who rules the whole;
Who in the northern blast, or western breeze,
Speaks to his creatures, at whose nod the

winds

And snows shall cease, and Spring again return.

Acton-Place, Walworth.

M. M.

TO THE MEMORY OF CHATTERTON.

Now strike ye slow the trembling lyre,
Now pour ye wild the plaintive strain,
Mute is the poet's muse of fire,

And dead the youth on yonder plain.
Oh strew ye flow'rets on his grave

Yet wet with many a briny tear, And thou, blest streamlet, gently lave The bard to musing fancy dear! Whilst yet shall glow the solar beam,

And line the rolling globe with gold,
The blue-eyed Fays from wood or stream
Shall deck with leaves thy hallow'd mould
For thee the hoary moss at eve,

For thee the balmy dew they bring ;
For thee the songs of pity weave,
And sweep with little hands the string.
M

AMIDST the watches of the night,
When darkness veils the face of light,
Save where the waning moon doth shed.
A transient gleam around my bed,
And yonder star emits a ray
Across the Tonely trav'ller's way,
I startle from my anxious sleep,
And wake to ruminate and weep.

The curfew long hath ceas'd to ring,
And vespers now no more they sing,
The wretched find, in sweet repose,
The joyous solace of their woes;
And nought appears to intervene
Amidst the stillness of the scene;
But the lone rust'ling of the trees,
That quiver to the passing breeze.
But hark! I heard the death-bell toll
The knell of some departing soul,—
The dreary echo seems to cry,

.

Prepare, for thou must also die.' And now perhaps some holy nun, Whose vital thread is almost spun, With calm suspense begins to wait Her passport to a better state; The sister saints, a pious band, Around the sinking Christian stand, To wipe the tear-drop from her eye, And soothe her passage to the sky. The pow'r of vision waxes dim, And fainter grows the fading gleam; The stream of life but feebly flows, The flame is quiv'ring at the closeThe trembling life-the languid cheekThe pains of dissolution speak

She breathes-it is her parting breath-
She sleeps-it is the sleep of death-

Oh! 'tis a solemn thing to tread
The silent mansions of the dead,
To walk among the mantled gloom,
And on each monumental tomb
To read our own eventful doom;
And soon perhaps my youthful head
Must slumber in that lowly bed,
And yonder melancholy bell
My exit from this world shall tell.

LINES,

Most respectfully inscribed to the Royal Patron and Patroness, and noble Supporters of the National Benevolent Institution, founded by Peter Herve, Esq.---Written in the year 1816.

LET noble bards in high exalted strains Rehearse the fame of heroes, and of kings! Let them record the arduous deeds atchiev'd On the Iberian and Germanic plains!

Let them invoke the sacred Nine, and raise Thy deathless fame, immortal Wellington!

Be it thy task, my gentle muse, to sing The godlike virtue of Benevolence! Offspring of mercy, source of gratitude,Of gratitude not easily defin'd;

ર

It glows with speechless rapture in the heart, And rears an altar in the aching breast, Where burns incessantly the lambent flame, A flame that with superior lustre shines When virtuous Herve's name salutes the ear.. Hanway, the friend of infancy distress'd, Howard, the prisoner's advocate and friend, Are call'd to their reward.-But Herve lives The philanthropic friend of helpless age!

How blest are they, who, having pow'r and will,

Wipe from the eye of wretchedness the tear,
Soothing the anguish of the sorrowing soul,
When the weak miserable worn-out frame
Bends tottering o'er the margin of the grave!
Thrice bless'd is He who form'd the great
design

To rescue hoary age from keen distress,-
From houseless want and chilling penury,
When dark adversity's destroying blast
Has banish'd Hope, and plung'd them in de-
spair,

If then Benevolence extends her hand,
She smooths the downward passage to the
tomb.

This heav'n-inspired plan shall flourish long, By Princesses illustrious patroniz'd, And shed its benign influence far and wide.

Sanction'd by Royal Kent, this virtuous
work

Shall draw down blessings on our native isle :
Approv'd of heav'n, and foster'd by the good,
It adds new lustre to the radiant list
Of Albion's almost countless charities!

Children of misery in future time (Invoking blessings on the founder's head) With tearful eyes shall clasp their trembling hands,

And muse with silent rapture on his name.

S. H.

*The Patronesses were, Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, and her royal daughter; it was the first public charity the Princess Charlotte patronized.

† Duke of Kent was the first Patron.

SONNET.

How sweet the thoughts of days gone by! How sweet to cast a retrospective glance, And,-back to the varied hours of infancy, With contemplation's eye, revert for once. "Tis sweet to view what never can return,

The thought itself is pleasing in the extreme; To mark of life the first approaching morn,

When the gay world appear'd a gayer
dream;

For them I know tis useless e'er to mourn;
I likewise know, to wish them back, 'tis vain,
Yet in the bare idea, there's a thought
With such delicious sweetness fraught,
That ere I'm hurried to that unknown bourn,
In mind I'd even be a child again. H. D.

INSCRIPTION,

"To the Memory of the Rev. Thomas Fawcett, Minister of Oldham Church 43 years, who departed this life January 19th, 1818, aged 74 years."

“OH! could this verse his bright example spread,

And teach the living, while it prais'd the dead:
Then, reader, should it speak his hope divine,
Not to record his faith, but strengthen thine;
Then should his every virtue stand confess'd
'Till every virtue kindle in thy breast,
But if thou slight the monitory strain,
And he has liv'd to thee, at least, in vain,
Yet let his death an awful lesson give,
The dying Christian speaks to all that live;
Enough for him that here his ashes rest,
"Till God's own plaudit shall his worth at-
test"*

*The above lines were found among his papers after his death, and are engraved on a brass plate, which was affixed over his grave, but is now removed into the church. J. S.

MORNING.

By a young Lady, late of Penzance, Cornwall. Now the rosy-fac'd morning appears,

And the graces attend in her train; So bright is the charm that she wears,

It communicates charms to the plain. Now the birds raise their voices on high, Like nature delighted and gay; The blessings they owe to the sky Their sprightliest song shall repay. How fair is the aspect of morn,

When she visits these blooming retreats! The landscape intent to adorn,

She replenishes nature with sweets. The lily, the pink, and the rose,

To salute her are gracefully spread; And bright are the tints they disclose, And sweet is the fragrance they shed. But quickly the morning recedes,

And is presently follow'd by noon;
So to spring the gay summer succeeds,
And with equal celerity's flown.
Thus we wake in the morning of life,
All gladsome, delighted, and gay;
Our joys unimbitter'd by strife,

Our pleasures untouch'd by decay.
But much too delightful to last,
So swiftly the moments flow on,
That ev'ning approaches us fast

Ere the morning appears to be gone.

ACUPUNCTURATION.

THE following article has been handed us by a correspondent, whose initials it bears. It refers to a treatise, which prescribes for acute pains, of a certain description, a mode of cure but little known in Europe, and which, perhaps, from its novelty and peculiarity

of operation, many will hesitate to adopt. Of its efficacy and effects we do not presume to have any knowledge. Practice is founded on experiment, and experiment always implies adventure. It is only by trial that knowledge can be obtained. There was a time when the most permanent principles, derived from practice, were in their infancy: this is now the condition of the operation recommended. Professional gentlemen acquainted with the anatomy of the human body, must judge of the danger connected with the attempt, and by this, no doubt, their conduct will be regulated.

EDITOR.

MR. EDITOR. SIR,-There has lately issued from the press a little work which appears to have excited the curiosity not only of the medical world, (to whom it is addressed,) but also a great interest in the breasts of the public at large. It is a treatise on the method, adopted from time immemorial by the Chinese and Japanese physicians, in all diseases of the abdominal cavity and viscera, such as colic, tympany, and in all complaints attended with acute and settled pain. They, the Chinese, term it Zin-King, which is rendered by us, Acupuncturation. The operation simply consists in forcing a needle, of an inch or inch-and-half in length, into the part affected, once, or oftener, as the acuteness of the disease requires, thereby causing an instantaneous revulsion in the region of disease, which is alleviated, or it entirely ceases,on the introduction of the needle.*

So far as the actual practice has extended in this country, it appears to have succeeded beyond the most sanguine expectation; and during the short space of time elapsed since its introduction, there seems not the shadow of a doubt remaining in the mind of the praiseworthy individual,† who has thus introduced it into his prac