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Jannes. This is all very good and Ed. Yes, here are two or three edifying to be sure, but have you no pieces for you, all we can afford at poetry to-day? among the Rajpoot mothers the murder The state of Indian manners forbids feof female infants is universally practised. males to be placed under the tuition of Mothers among other casts, in fulfilment men. It may be difficult to overcome preof a vow to obtain offspring, are seen sa- judices among the natives against female crificing their first child in the Brūm hū education, but they will gradually subside, pootrü and other sacred rivers. Many and we shall soon witness the triumph of females drown themselves. Capt. saw these humane exertions in the delightful one morning, while sitting at his own win- appearance of a state of society in India, dow at Allahabad, sixteen females, under rewarding the benevolent exertions of the the influence of superstition, drown them- British ladies.* selves at the junction of the Jumna and It further appears, by a recent commu. the Ganges. And there are now in Lon- nication from Bengal, that the Calcutta don copies of official documents, which School Society is at this time extending its prove that, in the year 1817, under the views and operations to the education of Presidency of Bengal, not less than 705 female children in Calcutta, to which their females, British subjects, voluntarily im. attention has been directed by the sentimolated themselves, by being burnt or buried ments of some of the principal natives, one alive with the dead bodies of their husbands. of whom has even undertaken to publish

No parallel case of such direful effects an extract from authentic Hindoo writings, of ignorance appears to exist in human his. in furtherance of this object. It is there tory. Never in the most savage state have fore proposed that a subscription be raised fires like these been kindled, or similar for the express purpose of promoting the graves been dug. Never were such appal- education of female natives of British InJing consequences of ignorance'exhibited to dia, by sending out a well-qualified misthe civilized world.

tress, to be at the disposal and under the In these circumstances, to whom shall direction of the Calcutta School Society. the appeal be made ? Is it not manifest, The fund so contributed will be received that the ladies in Britain are the natural by the Coinmittee of the British and Foguardians of these unhappy widows and reign School Society, and applied as before orphans in British India? Is it possible, mentioned in connection with the Calcutta that our fair countrywomen, ladies of School Society. This society was establishrank, of influence, of the most refined sen- ed in 1818, under the direction of the Hon. sibility, the patrons of every charity, of all Sir Anthony Buller, John Herbert Harthat is distinguished and benevolent in our ington, Esq. late senior judge of the Na. country, can, after knowing the facts con. tive Court, and various other respectable tained in this circular, continue unmoved persons, with a number of natives of Inby the cries issuing from these fires, and dia who are Hiudoos, and who have an from the thousands of orphans which sur- equal influence in the Committee. round them, witnessing the progress of these It is computed that about L. 400 will flames which are devouring the living mo- be required for the outfit passage and supther, and consuming her frame to ashes ? port of a proper person to superintend a This appeal cannot be made in vain ; such school for training native teachers. The a tale of woe was never before addressed to object is earnestly recommended by the the hearts of British mothers. Let every Ladies' Committee of the British aud Folady of rank and influence in the United reign School Society, and the following Empire do her duty, and these fires cannot ladies will thankfully receive subscriptions : burn another twenty years.

Lady Johnston, 19, Cumberland Place ; Next to the wise and gradual interposi- Lady Bell, Dean Street, Soho ;-Mrs H. tion and influence of a benevolent govern. Gurney, 24, Gloucester Place, Portman ment, female education forms the most Square ;-Miss Bradshaw, Stoke Newingprobable and effectual means of putting an ton ;-Miss Hanburgh, Plough Court; end to this deplorable state of iemale so. Mrs Hagen, Peckham ;-Miss Jane Har. ciety; and could funds be raised by a dis. ris, Walworth ;-Miss Shewell, Stockwell; tinguished association of ladies in London, -Mrs Millar, 45, Museum Street ; with auxiliaries in the country, for this ex- Miss Phené, Watling Street. press object, schools taught by native fca males might be immediately established. There is a class of females in India, the It appears from the reports of the daughters of our countrymen, who are ac- London Missionary Society, that exertions quainted with the native languages, and have been made with some success in some from whom a wise selection might be made, parts of India, particularly the native who, after receiving proper instruction, schools for females of Tamul and Travanmight, as local mistresses, become thc core, of which more minute accounts may greatest possible blessings to India. soon be expected.

present. First, here is a fine wild The open gate, and smoking fires,
sketch called “The Storm-beat Maid,” Which cloud the air so thin,
an early production of a lady of great And shrill bell tinkling from the spires,
genius, whose name well may we Bespoke a feast within.
guess, but dare not tell.”. Then fol- With busy look, and hasty tread,
lows our excellent and amiable friend The servants cross the hall,
Pringle’s Farewell to his Native Coun- And many a page in buskins red
try. You know he went to the Cape Await the master's call.
with several of his brothers, their fair streaming bows of bridal white
wives and families, and his old fa- On every shoulder play'd ;
ther at their head quite in the style And clean in lily kerchief dight
of the transit of Jacob and his sons Tripp'd every household maid.
into Egypt.-Jambres shall read the She asked for neither lord nor dame,
one, and Jannes the other.

Nor who the mansion owned,

But straight into the hall she came,

And sat her on the ground. ALL shrouded in the winter snow,

The busy crew all crowded nigh,
The maiden held her way :

And round the stranger stared ;
Nor chilly winds that roughly blow, But still she rolled her wandering eye,
Nor dark night, could her stay.

Nor for their questions cared.
O'er hill and dale, through bush and briar,

“ What dost thou want, thou storm-beat She on her journey kept ;

maid, Save often when she 'gan to tire,

That thou these portals passed ? She stopt a while and wept.

Ill suiteth here thy look dismay'd, Wild creatures left their caverns drear,

Thou art no bidden guest." To raise their nightly yells;

"O chide not !” said a gentle page, But little doth the bosom fear,

And wiped his tear-wet cheek: Where inward trouble dwells.

“ Who would not shun the winter's rage? No watch light from the distant spire,

The wind is cold and bleak. To cheer the gloom so deep,

66 Her robe is stiff with drizly snow, Nor twinkling star, nor cottage fire, And rent her mantle grey, Did through the darkness peep.

None ever bade the wretched go, Yet heedless still she held her way,

Upon his wedding-day.”
Nor feared she crag nor dell ;

Then to his lord he hied him straight,
Like ghost that thro' the glooin to stray, Where round on silken seat,
Wakes with the midnight bell.

Sat many a courteous dame and knight,

And made obeisance meet.
Now night thro' her dark watches ran,
Which lock the peaceful mind;

“ There is a stranger in your hall,
And through the neighb'ring hamlets 'gan Who wears no common mien,
To wake the yawning hind.

Hard were the heart, as flinty wall,

That would not let her in. Nor bark of dog, nor village clock,

" A fairer dame in hall or bower That spoke the morning near ; Nor grey light trembling on the rock,

Mine eyes did ne'er behold, Her nighted mind could cheer.

Tho'sheltered in no father's tower,

And turned out to the cold. The whirling flail, and clacking mill,

“ Her face is like an early morn, Wake with the early day ;

Dimmed with the nightly dew; And careless children loud and shrill,

Her skin is like the sheeted thorn,
With new made snow-balls play.

Her eyes a watery blue.
And as she passed each cottage door, " And tall, and slender, is ter form,
They did their gambols cease ;

Like willow o'er the brook ;
And old men shook their locks so hoar, But on her brow there broods a storm,
And wished her spirit peace.

And restless is her look.
For sometimes slow, and sometimes fast, “ And well her troubled motions show
She held her wavering pace ;

The tempest in her mind :
Like early Spring's inconstant blast, Like the unsheltered sapling bough,
That ruffles evening's face.

Vexed with the wintry wind.
At length with weary feet she came, “ Her head droops on her ungirt breast,
Where in a sheltering wood,

And scattered is her hair;
Whose master bore no humble name, Yet lady braced in courtly vest,
A stately castle stood.

Was never half so fair."

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to you.


Reverse, and cold, the turning blood, Ed. Would not one say there was The bridegroom's cheek forsook ;

a noble promise in this ? The proHe shook and staggered as he stood, mise, we can assure you, has been And faltered as he spoke.

more than amply fulfilled.-0, here “ So soft and fair, I know a maid, is a little poetical sketch by another There is but only she ;

lady who does not profess poetry, but A wretched man her love betray'd, whose moral sensibility gives an iniAnd wretched let him be."

mitable charm to every thing which Deep frowning turned the bride's dark eye, she says or writes. We must read it For bridal morn unmeet; With trembling steps her lord did hie, The stranger fair to greet.

LINES WRITTEN AT ABERFOIL. Tho' loose in scattered weeds arrayed, And ruffled with the storm,

'Twas a calm evening, and the autumn Like lambkin from its fellow strayed, He knew her graceful form.

Pour'd o'er the heath clad hills a purple

light; But when he spied that sunken eye, While the gay valley in its harvest pride, And features sharp and wan ;

Thick interspersed, with many a wooded He heaved a deep and heavy sigh,

hill, And down the big tears ran.

Look'd rich, and happy, with its yellow

store. " Why droops thy head, thou lovely maid, Upon thy hand of snow ?

All nature seem'd to teem with joyous life, Is it because thy love betrayed,

The sporting insects danced upon the That thou art laid so low ?"


The cooing stock-dove pour'd his evening Quick from her eye the keen glance came,

song, Who questioned her to see ;

And bleating lambs, from distant mounAnd oft she muttered o'er his name,

tains, lent And wist not it was he.

Their vocal offering to the passing breeze. Full hard against his writhing brows, Fair was the scene, when fill'd with thankHis clenched hand he pressed ;

sul praise, Full high his lab'ring bosom rose,

We trod the path that skirts the churchAnd rent its silken vest.

yard green, “O cursed be the golden price,

There delving deep, a grey hair'd sexton That did my baseness prove;

plied And cursed be my friend's advice

His busy task. Skulls strewn 'mong ghastThat wild me from my love.

ly heaps

Of mouldering bones garnish'd the dark * And cursed te the woman's art,

grave's side, That lured me to her snare;

While near it stood, with meditative eye, And cursed be the faithless heart,

A Highland boy, in plaided garments clad. That left thee to despair.

His cheek was flush'd with health, and “ Yet now I'll hold thee to my side,

clust'ring fell

The flaxen hair that curl'd around his brow. Tho' worthless I have been, Nor friends, nor wealth, nor dizened bride, He wondering gazed at this grim wreck of Shall ever stand between.

things “ When thou art weary and depressed,

That once were human ; and methought I'll lull thee to thy sleep ; And when dark fancies vex thy breast,

Glisten'd with grief, to think that one he

loved, I'll sit by thee and weep.

His aged grandsire, tenant of this grave, " I'll tend thee like a restless child, Must soon be like the fragments scatter'd Where'er thy rovings be;

round. Nor gesture keen, nor eye-ball wild, We passed away, but that mild summer's Shall turn my love from thee.

“Night shall not hang cold o'er thy head, And all its recollections, still remain.

Aberfoil, 6th September 1820.
And I securely lie ;
Nor drizly clouds upon thee shed,

What is this? A sonnet on which And I in covert dry.

we have accidentally laid our hands, “I'll share the cold blast on the heath,

and which has long puzzled us. It 1+1 share thy wants and pain ;

was sent us as a translation from the Nor friend, nor foe, nor life, nor death, Italian, but we cannot discover the Shall ever make us twain."

original. Some old love tale must

his eye



hang upon it, which seems unfathom- every nook in the kingdom. Perhaps able. The lover cannot be Petrarch this may be a tuneful cobler, or apo - he appears of a more Platonic cast thecary, orbut we shall read it. still-besides the verses bear internal evidence of having been written since

MR EDITOR, the Gierusalemme of Tasso. I shall I am a writer's clerk ! [So, so !) read them to you, before Jannes gives Nay, more, I am a writer's clerk in a us“ Pringle's Farewell.”

country town. [Better still.] This

confession, I fear much, will have the SONNET FROM THE ITALIAN.

effect of making many of your fashion" Vergine bella, la cui beltade, la terra,” able readers stop short at the very &c.

first sentence of my communication, Maiden more beauteous to my Fancy's and, like the lovers in Dante, “ read

no more.”

But then, Sir, I am a Than aught beheld on Earth, or dreamt of poet, at least so all my friends here Heaven,

tell me, and I believe them ; [poor Have I offended, not to be forgiven ? And canst thou think this bosom heaves no that I shall be able, with your leave,

lad!) and, moreover, have little doubt Years roll along--and yet beneath the sky

to bring over the judicious part of Breathes not a wretch with heart more torn

readers to the same opinion.

your and riven ;

My only fear is, that, in the plenitude Or if black thoughts, by loftier aims are

of your benevolence, you may be indriven

disposed to give me any encourage Off for a time-alas ! they do not fly! ment in my ardent pursuit of literary Yet deem not my offence was from the fame, under the erroneous impression heart;

that I am one of those weakling youngDeem me as “one perplex'd in the ex- sters, who, conceiving themselves to treme,”

have abilities and attainments of no Who might not love, all-lovely as thou art! ordinary kind, look down with conWhat matchless power were thine in holier tempt on the trammels of a profes

theme, Wouldst thou to glory speed thy Christian sion, and break their parents' hearts

, and ruin their own prospects, by knight, Not lure him (an Armida!) from the fight! spending their time in inditing sickly

ballads and sentimental sonnets, to Jannes. What a poor hypocritical the total neglect of their proper avorascal this must have been !-I sin- cations. But I can assure you, Sir, I cerely hope he has been dead and bu- am quite a different sort of personage ried for centuries, and that there is no from these unfortunate youths. I fellow of the same kidney now alive. may say, without vanity, that I am He wishes, you see, to keep up a sick- now, and have been ever since I enly sentimental flirtation, without any tered on my apprenticeship, most atmore serious views, with some kind- tentive to business, and have all along hearted girl, włosc only weakness seems given the greatest satisfaction to my to have been, throwing away a thought employers. (Well, well!!] It is only on such a fantastic puppy.

Al- during my few leisure hours, and parthough he talks in rather a loftier ticularly on the Saturday afternoons, tone, I think he must liave been a that I have been in the habit of de cold blooded monster, like your fa- voting myself to the worship of the vourite Swift, who did not hesitate to Muses, [We hope his worship on the sacrifice two uncommonly amiable wo- Sundays is not to the same Deities,] men to his weak and capricious va. and to the indulgence of those sacred nity—the high-minded and generous emotions which were first kindled in Stella, and the passionate and fasci- my early youth, amid the lovely

scenes nating Vanessa! What do you say to of this delightful country. Of late that, Mr Editor ?

years I have had more opportunities Ed. Why, there is much to be said than formerly of making myself in upon both sides. We confess a great some measure acquainted with the lipenchant for Swift, and—[Enter a terature of the times in which I live, servant with a letter. ]— A letter with by means of the periodical works the Lanark post-mark upon it! We which are at present so much in vogue, have correspondence with votaries of and, above all, by the constant peruthe muses of all conditions, and from sal of your invaluable Magazine.


[Some sense in this fellow!] You

THE BOWER O' CLYDE. can have but a faint idea, Mr Editor, of the intense interest which is create In toun thair wonnit ane dame, ed in my mind by the sight of your Ane dame of wondrous courtesie ; green covered numbers, as they month- An' bonny was the kindly flame

That stremit frae her saft black ee. ly reach this ancient burgh-how eagerly I seize upon them-run over the Her saft black ee, 'mid the hinney dew, table of contents, and proceed to de That meltit to its tender licht, vour those articles which are most Was bonnier farre than the purest starre congenial to my taste. ((Jannes aside) That sails thro' the dark blue hevin at

-What an ass!] Alas! Sir, I earnest nicht. ly wish that this pleasure were of

If ony culd luke and safely see longer duration, or more frequent re

Her saft saft cheek and her bonny red currence; but we are here miserably ill off for books. We have, to be sure, Nor seek to sip the dew frae her lip, a public library, but it consists only

A lifeless lump was he I trow. of about 50 volumes, and our funds are so low, that there is little chance But it wuld haif saftened the dullest wicht, of any very speedy increase to our

If ae moment that wicht might see small stock. i find, however, that I Her bonny breast o' the purest snaw,

That heavit wi' luve sae tenderlie. am wandering from the object which I had most particularly in view in in. An' dear dear was this bonny dame, troducing myself to your notice. I

Dear dear was she to me, have told you, Sir, that my friends An' my heart was tane, an' my sense was have taken up the idea that I have a gane, considerable talent for poetry, &c. At ae blink o' her bonny black ee. Cand so he goes on, and then says he An' sair an' saft I pleadit my luve, sends us a poem.] If the verses

Tho' still she hardly wuld seem to hear, which I now send you shall appear An’ wuld cauldly blame the words o’ flame to you deserving of insertion, co

That I breathit so warmly in her ear. yes! we shall print his poem for him! ( Jambres) Whut! without having Yet aye as she turned her frae my look, read it?] 'I shall take a speedy op. And aye as she drew back her lily han’

Thair was kindness beamit in her ee, portunity of endeavouring to give you

I faund that it tremblit tenderlie. some account of my early life, and of the progress of my mind. Nor do ! But the time sune cam, the waesome time, think, Sir, that this will be altogether When I maun awa frae my dear, useless or uninteresting. It can never An' oh! that thocht how aften it brocht be a useless task to trace the effect of The deep-heavit sigh an' the cauld bitcircumstances and peculiar events ter tear! upon a young mind, and I think, Sir, that even the early feelings and youth- Then socht I my luve, her cauld heart to ful loves of a writer's clerk in a couns

Wi' my tears, an' my sighs, an' my try town may afford some insight into human character, and human feel. And I gaed by her side doun the banks o'

prayers, ing, which may not be unworthy of the notice of such as attend to the An' the hours stal awa unawares. workings of nature, wherever they manifest themselves.

'Twas a still simmer nicht at the fa'ing o' The verses I send form the first

licht, part of a pretty long tale, which I

At the gloamin's saft an' schadowie hour, wrote sometime ago, and of which i An’ we wandered alane till the day-licht

was gane, shall send you the remainder, if the

An' we cam to a sweet simmer bour. portion I now transmit shall meet your approbation. It is the first, and, The mune was up i' the clear blue skye, indeed, the only attempt I have made

The mune and her single wee starre, to write in the Scottish dialect, and The winds gaed gently whisperin' bye,

Thair was stilness near an' farre. you will, I trust, judge of it accordingly. I am, Sir, with great respect, Alane we sat i' the green simmer bour, your humble servant, J. M.

I tauld her aw that was kind and dear, Lanark, 30 Nov. 1820.

An' she did na blame the words o' flame Here followeth the poem.

That I breathit sae warmly in her ear.



the Clyde,


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