false note, and a very curious effect is produced. I merely write this to give my father some notion of clavier-playing and teaching, which he may at a future time turn to account."

At Mannheim, where he next alighted, he was received lightly by the people. To France he next directed his course, in the strong hope that money was to be picked up in Paris; but he happened to go there at an unpropitious season, and nothing but disappointments followed. The greatest of all his vicissitudes there was the death of his mother, who expired after a fortnight's illness. Soon after he returned to Salz

burg, where he composed "Idomeneo," for the carnival. We conclude the present notice with a brief extract respecting the success of that piece:

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"While Idomeneo' was running its prosperous course, the composer was in great spirits; and, probably thinking that his friends of the Munich orchestra had had enough of passion's solemn tears,' he changed their weeping to a laughing mood by one touch of his wand-the canon '0 Du eselhafter Martin.' In this jovial production he entirely postponed all pretension to the sublime, and seemed bent only on showing how effectively music and words might be combined for a laugh. Of the same date with these varied compositions is the offertorium in D minor, Misericordias Demini,' profoundly ecclesiastical in its style, and uniting the severe school of ancient counterpoint with some of the effects of the day, as governed by his own turn of thought. For the first time, apparently, fully aware of the high destiny of his genius, and of its influence on the amount of human pleasure, he became more and more indifferent as to his own immediate interest, thinking that the favourable hour would come, and that the powerful of the earth could not remain for ever deaf and blind to his merit. Gladly would he have established himself for life with Cannabich, Wendling, and the rest of the old Mannheim orchestra in Munich; and the efforts he made to accomplish this object have been told. It is certain that Count Seau was authorised to express the readiness of the composer to enter the service of the Bavarian court; but the elector made no motion towards this object, and left the archbishop of Salzburg in undisturbed possession of his organist. Again, it is doubtful whether he was truly served by the friend whom he trusted. Greater credulity is required to believe his long train of ill-success the effect of chance than of the jealous alarm of men already in office, and fearful of their prerogative in the society of so gifted an associate. The leave of absence granted by the archbishop was gradually extended from weeks to

months; and by an extraordinary stretch of indulgence, Mozart was permitted to remain at Munich till the middle of March, 1781, when he was commanded to follow the Salzburg court to Vienna."

The Gatherer.

Orthography of Towns.-The name of Mainwaring (Cheshire) is spelt one hundred and sixty-three different ways in the deeds, &c., belonging to the family, and can be spelt in two hundred and ninetyfour different forms.

Daisies.-The word daisy is a thousand times pronounced without our adverting to the beauty of the etymology-" the eye of day."

Malleable Glass.-The Segusian Mercury states that a most marvellous discovery has been made of rendering glass as malleable when cold as when hot.

How to make Leeches bite.-The leech which it is intended to apply is to be thrown into a saucer containing fresh beer, and is to be left there till it begins to get quite lively. When it has moved about in the vessel for a few moments it is to be quickly taken out and applied. This method will rarely disappoint expectation; and even dull leeches, and those which have been used not long before, will do their duty. It will be seen with astonishment how quickly they bite.

could

March of Intellect.-Although the nineteenth century is nearly half passed over our heads, and now recorded in the pages of history, and considering all the improve.. ments that have taken place in our own lifetime, and the great talk which has sometimes been about the schoolmaster being abroad, and the many varied ways of diffusing useful and general knowledge considering all these things, a person scarcely be prepared to see such a notice as the following, in a shop window in a leading thoroughfare in the west-end of London:-"One Shiling a Barsket Cone Taine Pund harf." Such a notice is at present to be seen in the window of a large fruiterer's and greengrocer's shop fronting Church street, Portman-market, Edgewareroad. This notice is written in large let ters, and stuck into several small baskets of foreign grapes. This fully equals the notice lately-exhibited in a shop window in one of the newly opened streets leading from Coventry-street to Leicester-square, which stated, "that this shop will be opened in the course of a few days as a chemist and druggist," which gave rise to the pun of intellectual bricks and mortar.

H. A. Burstall, Printer, 2, Tavistock-street, Strand

A thwytel, or whittle, was a knife such as was carried about the person so late as the times of Charles I."

Though this ancient town has ceased to make iron heads for arrows, it still produces many band heads of another description; and some of these, wisely judging that the industry and prosperity of Sheffield must be promoted by whatever advanced scientific knowledge and rendered more clear the laws of nature, resolved eleven or twelve years ago to establish a botanical garden, and the useful and important establishment, the subject of our cut, was the consequence of that resolution. It consists of an area of eighteen acres, presenting a varied surface, with a southeastern aspect; it is to the west of the town, distant some two miles from its

centre.

No visitor should leave Sheffield without viewing the interesting and beautiful scene which has here been formed by the combination of skill and judiciously employed capital. We cannot do better than copy the description furnished of the details by an able and popular contemporary:

"The garden is surrounded by a substantial stone wall, and the whole of the ground was laid out at once. Besides the necessary trees and shrubs required for shelter, a collection of hardy trees and shrubs was procured from the Messrs. Loddiges, of Hackney; these were disposed in natural groups throughout the garden, partly with the view to general effect, but chiefly with respect to scientific arrangement: they were also so arranged that, when fully grown, the entire space which it would be desirable to devote to the growth of trees should be fully occupied without the aid of duplicates of any kind. An expensive and handsome entrance lodge, a dwelling-house for the curator, a secondary lodge, with an extensive range of glass, were all commenced and completed at the first formation of the garden. The purchase of the ground, the laying out of the garden, the erection of stoves, entrance lodges, and curator's house, were all completed at a cost of £18,000 or £19,000. The accompanying engraving presents a perspective elevation of the range of glass, which is very extensive, the entire length being three hundred feet, and the width at the narrowest part twenty feet: the centre, which is a lofty stove for tropical plants, is about thirty feet in width, and thirty-five or forty feet in height; the other portions are less lofty, and are appropriated to the use of stove and greenhouse plants. This is a complete, and, for the time it was erected, a comparatively capacious range. Economy, however, in the first erection, led to the introduction of a greater number of opaque walls than is consistent with

successful and superior cultivation; but now that the reduction of the duty on glass has effected a favourable change in the price of this article, we hope the society will soon be enabled to throw down these opaque divisions, and substitute glass in their place. Whenever this can be done, and the range of glass extended backwards, but without opaque walls of any kind higher than the ordinary tables or shelves upon which the plants are placed, this will then form one of the most imposing botanical ranges of glass in the country. This society has recently undergone an entire renovation, and its constitution is completely altered. Owing to the depression of trade and other causes, it became involved in debt; a new company was formed, consisting in part of the original proprietors, and others, who were anxious for the preservation of the garden. A valuation of the latter was agreed upon by the old proprietors, and a transfer of the property was thereby mutually arranged for the sum of £8,000 (?). In the present constitution of the society the original shares are valued at £5 each, bearing an annual payment of 10s. upon every share; by this plan it is calculated that a revenue of £1,000 will be raised annually for the support of the garden."

That Sheffield with its immense popula. tion and large capital should prove so wanting in spirit as to suffer such an ornament to fall from neglect to decay, would be a disgrace to the age. Of such a result those who best know the town have no apprehensions, and the probability is that it will rise from year to year in general estimation from experience of its utility.

MILITARY EXECUTIONS.

To ordinary minds the idea of a violent death is dreadful. By reflection, many have apparently conquered all dread of it; but seldom has a sufferer appeared so perfectly indifferent to his melancholy fate as was the subject of the present notice.

On the 12th of June, in the year 1830, Debuire, a French soldier, convicted of murdering his serjeant, was executed. The coolness with which he perpetrated the crime, and finally expiated it, were the subject of much conversation. At first he refused to appeal to the court of cassation, which, however, he at length did, saying, "I shall live forty-eight hours longer by it, and should be guilty of a sort of suicide did I not." On the evening of Friday (the day before he suffered) Debuire was made acquainted with the rejection of his appeal. "I am glad of it,” said he, “ although I do

not wish to anticipate my last moments; my affair will soon be finished." He had a brief interview with his sister and her husband. "Do not stop long," said he; "I have only a very few hours to live, and must prepare." A change of linen was brought to him at eight o'clock in the morning, which he accepted with thanks. "It is more necessary than ever," said he, "for this is an important day to me. I shall be more an object of attention than ever I was in the course of my life. My poor comrades of the 50th!" said he, some moments afterwards, "they will have this day a melancholy job, and what is worse, they will get a wetting in performing it." At nine o'clock the captain rapporteur (of the court martial) repaired to Abbaye, and announced to Debuire that the sentence of death would be carried into execution at two o'clock. He saluted the officer respectfully, and immediately on his retiring, recommenced reading the "Imitation of Christ (Thomas a Kempis)," a book which he had perused with much attention during the period of his imprisonment, although in the intervals he amused himself with playing and singing, which, being innocent relaxations, he said "he considered by no means sinful."

At ten the chaplain repaired to the prisoner's apartment, and found him deeply occupied by the religious work above mentioned. Debuire, when aware of the chaplain's presence, advanced, and with a smile thanked him. "I have not been unmindful of your exhortations, monsieur l'abbé," said he. "I had resolved on suicide, but you have caused me to forego my intention. See (said he, approaching his bed and unfolding a knife that he had concealed in it), I had the means of committing it." When the clock struck half-past one he was told the time for his departure had arrived. He said he was ready, and in passing by the turnkeys divided among them some small money that still remained on his person, observing to one who showed some reluctance at accepting it, that he had no further use for it. He then, in a brisk voice, said to the gendarmes, who were in attendance, "Allons! Messieurs en avant! Marche!" The gendarmes led the way. The prisoner followed with a steady step, entered a fiacre that stood at the foot of the steps, preceded by two gendarmes, and followed by the chaplain. The escort proceeded at a quick pace to the place of execution. From time to time he put his head out of the window of the coach, and looked earnestly at the immense crowd that lined the whole road to the place of execution. The chaplain, fearing he was allowing himself to be distracted, remonstrated. The prisoner immediately withdrew his head-begged pardon, "he

had been only viewing with wonder the eagerness of the people to witness his sufferings, and be present at the death of a fellow creature." Then, in token of sincerity, he kissed the crucifix tendered to him by the priest, and attended to his words. At the barrier l'Ecole Militaire, situate beyond the Champ de Mars, "No. 4, ' on the wall, marked the place fixed upon for the execution. A few steps in the rear of the road stood a dozen men of the 50th regiment. These were to be the executioners. They were all sub (non-commissioned) officers—serjeants, corporals, and fourriers, and (the prisoner being a voltiguer) were all of the elite companies (grenadiers or light infantry.) They were viewed with great interest, and appeared to suffer from the public gaze; but one of them, a fourrier, a man of fifty years of age, whose fair mustachios were slightly silvered, was much more affected than the rest. His yellow tuft and epaulettes indicated the cause; he belonged, like the prisoner, to the voltigeur company, and was, probably, his old friend; for Debuire had served thirteen years. There could not have been fewer than fifty thousand persons present, among whom were a vast number of females. A tap of the drum summoned the troops to "attention." It announced the approach of the prisoner. Immediately upon his reaching the first soldier of the line, the drums of the several regiments beat (and continued to do so until his arrival at the fatal spot) a salute. The moment the carriage stopped the preparations commenced. "This is the place," said the confessor, when the fiacre stopped. "Eh bien !" said the prisoner; que la volunté de Dieu soit faite! J'attendrai !" (Well! the will of God be done! I shall await it!) The gendarmes then quitted their seats, and descended from the carriage. Debuire followed. He looked round, and seeing the picquet drawn up before the spot above described, "Ah," said he, "that is my place;" and immediately proceeded to it. Recognising among the fatal platoon the old fourrier mentioned above, Debuire took off his cap, and bowed to him with great appearance of regard. He was asked to kneel, which he refused, and placed himself in the position of a soldier without arms, but in the ranks. A clerk read the proceedings of the court-martial, commencing with-"By the King." At these words the prisoner took off his cap, and listened to the reading of his sentence with the utmost resignation. When it was finished he turned to the chaplain, kissed the proffered crucifix once more, and kissed also his confessor on both cheeks, thanking him for his kindness. "One moment more," said he, "and I am ready." He then took off his capote, and threw it aside

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A young man, a corporal of his own regiment, with tears in his eyes, then approached him from the flank of the pic quet, and showing him a handkerchief, told him he was ordered to bandage his eyes. Debuire refused very firmly. The other then looked at his officer, and receiving a nod, pressed his request. The poor fellow again refused His captain then said, "Retire, corporal, and do not disturb his last moments." Debuire took off his stock, and laid it on his capote, opened his shirt collar, and retook his position. With his head erect and his eyes firmly fixed on the platoon, he awaited (and but for an instant) his fate with fortitude and resignation. The platoon fired, rather irregularly, and with it gave the coup de grace, it was supposed, for no more was seen. The troops were marched past him, as is usual on those occasionshis own regiment first, and the principal part of it unarmed; after which the body was placed in the wagon, and carried off for interment, guarded by gendarmes.

"Insist on no such thing, sir, with captain Sarson, but should you receive the evidence of yonder officers," glancing at Peake and Higgs, with contempt, "then swear them by all the oaths that are binding on such creatures; for they will lie-it is their vocation."

Captain Sarson then gave a brief and correct account of all that had transpired on the evening of the landing of the smugglers. The magistrate asked if he could identify the person in the boat to be the fisherman he met on the cliff; captain Sarson replied in the negative; but affirmed that the size of the man in the boat corresponded with the height of the fisherman on the beach of Dover.

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Will you swear they are one and the same person, and that that individual was Mr. Cumlin?"

"I decline to do so."

Peake was then called, and sworn, and after having related the substance of Sarson's evidence, stated that he had been deceived by the non-arrival of the cutter, when the boats of the smugglers were within gunshot of the shore, and the men were perceived laughing at the efforts of his men

to induce them to land. He then descried a skiff which sailed out from Rowndown, and joined the boats of the smugglers; that the helmsman in the largest boat was, he thought, Cumlin; that from the flash of a pistol on the beach at Dover he saw it was Cumlin that fired. He had been to, Dover that day, and the fisherman Hamel had deserted the cottage. This was the substance of Peake's evidence.

"You saw Cumlin in the boat as helmsman off Folkstone?" interrogated Mr. Barnard.

"I did."

"Now then inform the bench whether the person you saw at the helm in the smugglers' boat, and the person you saw on Dover beach is present??

"Yes, sir; that is the man," pointing to Cumlin, whose back was turned to him. "How was he dressed?"

19 'I swear it is the same.'

"Please, sir, turn your face to Mr. Peake."

The accused did so; when Peake looked lost in astonishment. Such an alteration had taken place, that he doubted the evidence of his own senses. He was no longer Cumlin, but a different being. Peake was then requested to sign his evidence, but he refused.

"What," cried Sir Michael, "you refuse?"

"Yes," muttered Peake; "he is a devil, and not a man. That is not the countenance I saw in the boat, and on the beach in Dover bay."

"Then we must dismiss the case; but inform the bench-admitting that this man was on the beach, or in a boat, and without contraband goods-would you feel justified in seizing him?"

I would." "What! without property in his possession?"