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try to the south of the city, and the green pastoral plains of Fingal to the north; the low villa-spotted shores of the bay, and the more solitary and magnificent coastscenery of Howth and Killiney; the island-cliffs of Dalkey and Ireland's eye. In short, it is almost impossible even to enumerate, within our limited compass, the various beautiful objects which, on every side of Dublin, are presented to the eye, and that may be visited in a drive of an hour or two. Nor is our vicinity less rich in the various objects interesting to the naturalist, the botanist, or the geologist, and which should not be wholly unfamiliar to every inquiring mind. In the memorials of man in by-gone times, it is equally well stored: the rude Druidic tomb or altar; the Cairn; the Rath or Moate; the simple oratory of the earliest Christian times; the Round Tower so peculiar to our island; the Abbey; the baronial castle, and the old venerable triangulargabled mansion of the resident squire of former days:— all these are to be sound dispersed over its surface, and, with their traditions, supply food for pleasing contemplation and instructive thought. Notwithstanding, however, this profusion of attractions to tempt us to the purest and most purifying, the cheapest and most valuable of all enjoyments—the pleasures derivable from the charms of nature—we are of opinion, that the great majority of the inhabitants of Dublin have as yet but very imperfectly learned to appreciate the treasures of this kind which they possess, and we are quite sure that they do not enjoy them as they should. We know, indeed, that they pour forth in thousands, to indulge in the unhealthy excitement of the bustle and dust of the drive to Kingstown; but this is mere fashion, habit, or call it what you will,—it is not the sober and quiet enjoyment of nature. The more solitary and sublime scenery of the country is wholly deserted, or o known to the musing spendthrift of time, the angler. his want of feeling for the enjoyment of nature's beauty we deeply regret, in the poet's word's,

“Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, so lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The heart that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfishmen,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.”— Wordsworth.

Other causes, arising out of the want of cultiva on of intellectual tastes, we shall apply ourselves earnestly to remove. With this object, it is our intention shortly to commence a series of walks in the vicinity of Dublin, directing the attention of our readers to the various objects to be met with, either of picturesque or historic interest, and occasionally illustrating our subject with illustrations. We have been led into these observations, on looking at our prefixed wood engraving, which represents a subject of no common sublimity and grandeur, and which notwithstanding is, we are persuaded, but little known to our fellow-citizens. Such a scene, if it happened to be a hundred miles off, would be visited, at least by our aristocracy, to show their sashionable taste and disregard of expense; but within the short distance of an humble pedestrian walk, it offers no such gratification, and consequently remains unknown or disregarded. It is a view of the Light-house of Howth as seen from the shore, through a vista between the two remarkably pointed rocks on the south side of that beautiful promontory, popularly known to mariners by the name of “the Needles,” or sometimes, “the Candlesticks.” These singular features are the remains of a rocky headland worn into these fantastic forms by the action of the powerful element to whose fury they are exposed. Nothing can be more picturesquely imagined than the situation

of the distant Pharos, placed upon alofty and precipitous conical rock, almost insulated, and connected with the land by a bridge;—standing out boldly among the waves, and commanding both the southern and eastern iron bound cliffs of the great promontory with which it is connected, it seems predestined by nature for the purpose to which it is applied. This rock is popularly called the Baily, a corruption of Bally, (Ballium, a habitation,) a name originally applied to the ancient circular fortress which crowned its summit previous to the erection of the present buildings. This fortress was traditionally said to have been the work of the Danes. The Light-house is a building of very modern date, erected by the Ballast Board, the older light-house having been found inefficient from the greater loftiness of its situation, which rendered it subject to be obscured by clouds and mists. It is now disused. The light in the present structure is produced by a set of reflectors ground to the parabolic form, in the foci of which large oil lamps are placed, according to the system now generally adopted by the Trinity-house. The scenery of the south side of Howth, of which our illustration forms a part, presents a succession of beautiful and picturesque features, but which can only be properly enjoyed by the pedestrian, as the road, for the greater part, winds too far away to allow of their being seen. And it is only from these bold crags that the beauty of our bay can be fairly appreciated, as they command the whole of its spacious marine amphitheatre, and the entire range of the Dublin and Wicklow Mountains. Dublin Penny Journal.

CatskiLL MoUNTAins.

This is the name of a range of mountains in the northern part of New York, and branching into Canada. They are broken through by the Hudson about fifty miles above the city of New Y. Their eastern sace is steep, and displays an immense number of precipices of great extent. They appear encircling the mountains like enormous bands, and from their summits we have the most grand and delightful prospects of the great valley of the Hudson, and of the distant mountains of Connecticut and Massachusetts.

“From these summits,” says a traveller in those regious, we behold at dawn of day, a scene of unrivalled splendour. The sun rises in dazzling brightness over the distant Tagkannac mountains, but the immense valley of the Hudson is still clad in the shades of night. As the sun advances, objects in the valley are gradually and dimly disclosed. Here and there appear white fogs, resting on the waters; soon these are raised and expanded into clouds by the warmth of the sun, and, tinged with gold and purple, sail away far below, brushing the mountains with their dewy wings. “The eye now wanders over a vast expanse like a world in miniature. The Hudson, many miles distant, appears at the base of the mountains diminished in appearance to a rivulet. From the Highlands to Albany, every town and village on its banks can be discerned; ships with all their canvass spread appear dwindled to boats. The rising sun gleaming over the rivers and on the lakes of mountain and valley, renders them like crimson floods of fire. “The mountains of Lake George, the Green Mountains of Vermont, and the lofty ranges of Massachusetts and Connecticut are in view, and their blue cloud-like summits seem mingled with the distant sky. The val: ley of the Hudson appears an immense plain chequered with groves and corn fields. Sometimes the valley is filled with clouds, resembling a boundless ocean, while the insulated summits are in the sunshine and clear sky. When put in motion by the wind, the clouds of the valley rols like the waves of a tempestuous sea, and storms are often seen sweeping far below, shrouding a part of the landscape in midnight darkness. You hear the thunder roll, and see the lightning play beneath your feet, while the mountain heights around you are in a calm and cloudless sky.” The Pine Orchard is a spot upon these mountains about seven miles from the Hudson, where a road winds upwards to the height of 2.274 feet. At this spot, upon a small plain scattered over with forest trees, stands an elegant hotel, called the Catskill Mountain House. In summer this is the general resort of visitors. The prospect from the place embraces some of the grandest views which the mountains exhibit.—Parley's Book of Curio

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we are sond of life, and desirous, as far as we can, of extending the short span alloted to us on earth. For this purpose, health, which forms a large ingredient in human happiness, must be promoted; and whatever tends to health, tends also to old age. When, therefore, we meet with persons who have reached their eightieth or ninetieth year, or read of those whose age has amounted to a hundred and upwards, it is no less instructive than interesting to observe the means which, under Providence, have led to their arriving at such an advanced period of life. It will generally be found, on inquiry into such cases, that certain modes of living have been adopted, which may be called some of the conditions of longevity; and the tables which have been given of the respective ages and residences of certain very aged persons, with some sketch of their history, establish this fact, with few exceptions. They have, almost all, been born of healthy parents, and have been early accustomed to exercise, temperance, and simplicity of food. To these may be added, in the greater number of instances, early rising, and a due regulation of those passions which are bestowed on man for good and wise ends; but which, when abused, invariably hasten on his decay. With these remarks, which we trust may prove acceptable to some of our readers, we have prefaced a likeness and short account of the celebrated Thomas PARR, or, as he is called, in a portrait of his own time, “The old, old, very old man, of Winnington, in the parish of Alderbury, in Shropshire, who was born in the reign of King Edward the #. in the year 1483. He lived 152 years, 9 months, and odd days, and departed this life at Westminster, November 15, 1635.” There is but little mentioned of his life; but perhaps the most remarkable incident in it was the occasion of his being brought from his native village to London. Thomas, earl of Arundel and Surrey, earl marshal of England, was visiting some manors which he held in Shropshire; and, hearing of Parr's great age, he proposed to him a journey to London. The earl accordingly provided a litter and two horses for him; and, with some difficulty, in consequence of the crowds of people who pressed to see the old man, got him safe to London, where he was well entertained at his lordship's cost.

The following amusing anecdote is told of him. His three leases of 21 years each, making 63 years, being expired, he took his last lease of his landlord, Mr. John Porter, for his life, with which lease he lived more than fifty years. But he wished, for his wife's sake, to renew his lease for years, which his landlord would not consent to ; upon which Old Parr, who had been long blind, and was sitting in his chair by the fire, being told by his wife that young Mr. Porter, the landlord's son, was coming towards the house to call, “Is he so,” said Parr, “I prithee, wife, lay a pin on the ground near my foot, or at my right toe,” which she did; and when young Mr. Porter came, the old man said, after the usual salutations, “Wise, is not that a pin that lies at my soot 1" “Truly, husband,” quoth she, “it is a pin indeed!” so she took it up, and Mr. Porter was amazed that the old man had recovered his sight again; but it was quickly found to be “a witty conceit, thereby to have him suppose him to be more lively than he was, because he hoped to have his lease renewed for his wife's sake.”

The longevity of Thomas Parr seems to have descended as an heir-loom to his posterity : as his son lived to the age of 113, his grandson to 109, and his great grandson to 125 !

Perhaps the most extraordinary instance on record of liveliness such as is shown in the anecdote above, at an extreme old age, is that of the Countess of Desmond, who died 140 years old. Her death happened at the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, it was said at the time, ... by a sever occasioned by a fall from a walnut-tree!”

London Saturday Magazine

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IT seems to be the fate of the Belles Lettres, an ingenious French writer observes, that they break out in all their splendour during some ages, and then are again doomed to decline into total neglect.

Athens long preserved a correct taste in Eloquence, in Philosophy, and in Poetry. At the same time, the Fine Arts flourished in all their beauty; but a frightful barbarism soon succeeded the resincinent and the science of this ingenious nation.

The Romans having vanquished the Greeks, awakened the Muses from their lethargy; and the Augustan age was for Italy what that of Pisistratus had been for Greece. The decline of that empire soon occasioned that of the Belles Lettres; and the invasions of those people who dismembered the Roman empire, threw all again into barbarism and ignorance. Charlemagne attempted to revive the sciences: he rewarded the learned, and he established schools in the principal cities of the empire. It was his command, that a number of volumes should be transcribed, to be dispersed throughout the kingdom.

Our illustrious Alfred began the same reformation in England. Engaged as he was in one continued war with the Danes, nothing could disturb the designs he had formed for the restoration of letters. He laments the ignorance of the times, with all the indignation of a philosopher, and the resentment of a patriot prince.

The attempts of those great monarchs availed little: the clash of arms taught a melancholy silence to the Muses. Since those times, as the monarchical government became more firmly established, the Belles Lettres insensibly revived.

But it was chiefly under the pontificate of Leo the Tenth, that munificent patron of literature, that they sprung up in all their richest luxuriance. Assisted by the art of printing, which had been discovered some time before, they made those immense progresses, and formed those heroes of literature, which so forcibly claim our warmest admiration.

Curiosities of Literature.

My tears, O Ryno" are for the dead : my voice for those that have passed away. Tall thou art on the hill; fair among the sons of the vale, l'ut thou halt fall like

Morar; the mourner shall sit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in the hall unstrung !

Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a roe on the desert, terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the storm. Thy sword in battle as lightning in the field. Thy voice was as a stream after rain; like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm; they were consumed by the flames of thy wrath. But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow ! Thy face was like the sun after rain; like the moon in the silence of night; calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid.

Narrow is thy dwelling now ! dark the place of thine abode " With these steps I compass thy grave. Othou who wast so great before | Four stones, with their heads of moss, are the only memorials of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan.—Ossian.

ITEMs of NEws.

A treaty has been concluded with the Dutch Government, and thus is the Belgic question at length put to rest. A treaty of peace has been concluded between Ibrahim Pacha and the Sultan, whereby the storm of war has been allayed in the east. A letter from Havana states that the Cholera is still prevailing in that city, and is again making dreadful ravages at Guanebacoa, about two leagues distant. In the lower grounds and along the rivers, both in that vicinity and at Matanzas, the colored population were said to be o, moured dourn. The Cholera is raging at New-Orleans. A letter from that place, dated June 13, estimates the number of deaths daily from 100 to 180; though this is probably too high an estimate.

ONE HUNDRED AGENTS

Could be advantageously employed in different sections of the Uniou, in obtaining subscribers for this Magazine. It is not of a local character, but is calculated for general circulation; and hence subscribers may as well be obtained in one part of the country as another. Good encouragement will be given to agents, and a number to the amount of one hundred at least, could be surnished by us with profitable employment.

PUBLIS litei) At 22:2 Wii. Li AM STREET. o

To re. Ms. ONE Doll. An AN1, FIFTY CENts PER ANNUM, IN AdvancE.

Should an order for the Magazine be received, unaccompanied by advance payment, one number will be sent, showing our terms; after which, no more will be forwarded till payment shall have been received. Companies of four individuals, sending rive poli.ARs, current here, free of postage, will be furnished with four copies for one year. Companies of ten, sending ten dollars as above, will bo o with ten copies. As the sum of $1 50, which is the price of the Magazine to a single subscriber, cannot conveniently be sent by mail, it will be necessary that two subscribers at least send payment in a letter together. II; Schools adopting the Magazine will be supplied at one pol.1. A R per annum; for each copy. The postage on the Magazine is 3-4 of a cent under one hundred miles, and 1 cent and 1-4 for any distance over. We would have it distinctly understood, that our terms are not published as a mere matter of course. We shall adhere to them to the very letter. Experience has taught us their necessity. credit system is the bane, the ruin of periodicals. Prompt payment is absolutely indispensable to their prosperity, nay, to their very existence. Scattered as is their patronage over a wide extent of country, their proprietors, for the want of promptitude on the part of their subscribers, are compelled to resort to loans, and to purchase their paper and hire their printing at a heavy advance. And not unfrequently are they forced to wind up their concerns altogether. Now we view our object to be altogether too important to be jeoparded thus; and we shall therefore require payment in all cases in Advance. Our expenses are heavy, and those who have our paper must pay them, seeing we have no money to throw away. o, reasonable man will at once perceive the porpriety and necessity of these terms. ** 1.etters should be addressed thus: Editor of the Family Magazine. 2: Willia in Street, New York.

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H IS TO R Y. WE will continue our extracts from the “Ancient Fragments” mentioned in our last. They are rare documents, and, in a literary point of view, are a most valuable acquisition to this department of our work. The next extract which we shall make is from Sanchoniatho. It relates to the mystical sacrifice of the Phoenicians, and is as follows:– “It was the custom among the ancients, in times of great calamity, in order to prevent the ruin of all, for the rulers of the city or nation to sacrifice to the avenging deities the most beloved of their children as the price of redemption: they who were devoted for this purpose were offered mystically. For Cronus, whom the Phoenicians call Il, and who after his death was deified and instated in the planet which bears his name, when king, had by a nymph of the country called Anobret an only son, who on that account is styled Jeoud, for so the Phoenicians still call an only son: and when great dangers from war beset the land, he adorned the altar, and invested this son with the emblems of royalty, and sacrificed him.” The next is likewise an extract from Sanchoniatho, relative to the serpent, as follows. “Taautus first attributed something of the divine nature to the serpent and the serpent tribe; in which he was followed by the Phoenicians and Egyptians. For this animal was esteemed by him to be the most inspirited of all the reptiles, and of a fiery nature; inasmuch as it exhibits an incredible celerity, moving by its spirit without either hands or feet, or any of those external members by which other animals effect their motion. And in its progress it assumes a variety of forms, moving in a spiral course, and darting forward with whatever degree of swiftness it pleases. It is moreover long-lived, and has the quality not only of putting off its old age, and assuming a second youth, but of receiving at the same time an augmentation of its size and strength. And when it has fulfilled the appointed measure of its existence, it consumes itself, as Taautus has laid down in the sacred books; upon which account this animal is introduced in the sacred rites and mysteries.” We come now to Berossus, the Chaldean, a Babylonian by birth, who flourished in the reign of Alexander the Great, and resided some years at Athens. Being a priest of Belus, he possessed every advantage which the records of the temple and the learning and traditions of the Chaldeans could afford. He appears to have sketched his history of the earlier times from the representations upon the walls of the temple; from history and tradition; and from mythology:—whence the strange medley contained in his writings. With these remarks, we will proceed to our extracts. “Berossus, in the first book of his history of Babylonia, informs us that he lived in the age of Alexander,the

son of Philip. And he mentions that there were written

accounts, preserved at Babylon with the greatest care, comprehending a period of above fifteen myriads of years: and that these writings contained histories of the heaven and of the sea; of the birth of mankind; and of the memorable actions which they had achieved. “And in the first place he describes Babylonia as a country situated between the Tigris and the Euphrates: hat it abounded with wheat, and barley, and ocrus, and

sesame ; and that in the lakes were produced the roots called gongae, which are fit for food, and in respect to nutriment similar to barley. That there were also palm trees and apples, and a variety of fruits; fish also and birds, both those which are merely of flight, and those which frequent the lakes. He adds, that those parts of the country which bordered upon Arabia were without water, and barren; but that the parts which hay on the other side were both hilly and fertile. “At Babylon there was (in these times) a great resort of people of various nations, who inhabited Chaldaea, and lived in a lawless manner like the beasts of the field. “In the first year there appeared, from that part of the Erythraean sea which borders upon Babylonia, an animal destitute of reason, by name Oannes, whose whole body (according to the account of Apollodorus) was that of a fish; that under the fish's head he had another head, with feet also below similar to those of a man, subjoined to the fish's tail. His voice too, and language, were articulate and human; and a representation of him is preserved even to this day. “This Being was accustomed to pass the day among men, but took no food at that season; and he gave them an insight into letters, sciences, and arts of every kind. He taught them to construct cities, to sound temples, to compile laws, and explained to them the principles of geometrical knowledge. He made them distinguish the seeds of the earth, and shewed them how to collect the fruits; in short, he instructed them in every thing which could tend to soften manners and humanize their lives. From that time, nothing material has been added by way of improvement to his instructions. , And when the sun had set, this Being (Oannes) retired again into the sea, and passed the night in the deep; for he was amphibious. After this there appeared other animals like Oannes, of which Berossus proposes to give an account when he comes to the history of the kings. ... Moreover Oannes wrote concerning the generation of mankind, and of their civil polity; and the following is the purport of what he said: “There was a time in which there existed nothing but darkness and an abyss of waters, wherein resided most hideous beings, which were produced of a two-sold principle. There appeared men, some of whom, were furnished with two wings, others with four, and with two faces. They had one body but two heads; the one that of a man, the other of a woman; and likewise in their several organs both male and female. Other human figures were to be seen with the legs and horns of goats: some had horses' feet; while others united the hind quarters of a horse with the body of a man, resembling in shape the hippocentaurs. Bulls likewise were bred there with the heads of men, and dogs with four-sold bodies, terminated in their extremities with the tails of fishes: horses also with the heads of dogs: men too and other animals, with the heads and bodies of horses ana the tails of fishes. In short, there were creatures on which were combined the limbs of every species of animals. In addition to these, fishes, reptiles, serPento, with other monstrous animals, which assumed each other's shape and countenance. Os." which were prejed delications in the temple of Belus, at Babylon. “The person who presided ovo them was a woman named Omoroca, which in the ‘ 'haldaean language ls Thalath, in Greek Thalassa, the sea, but which might equally be interpreted the moon. All things being in this situation, Belus came, and cut the woman asunder: and of one half of her he formed the earth, and of the other half the heavens, and at the same time destroyed the animals within her. All this (he says) was an allegorical description of nature. For, the whole universe consisting of moisture, and animals being continually generated therein, the deity above-mentioned took off his own head: upon which the other gods mixed the blood, as it gushed out, with the earth, and from thence were formed men. On this account it is that they are rational, and partake of divine knowledge. This Belus,

by whom they signify Jupiter, divided the darkness, and separated the heavens from the earth, and reduced the universe to order. But the animals, uot being able to bear the prevalence of light, died. Belus upon this, seeing a vast space unoccupied, though by nature fruitful, commanded one of the gods to take off his head, and to mix the blood with the earth, and from thence to form other men and animals, which should be capable of bearing the air. Belus formed also the stars, and the sun, and the moon, and the five planets. (Such, according to Polyhistor Alexander, is the account which Berossus gives in his first book.)

MYTHO LOGY.

AURORA.

For the Family Magazine.

The mythological representation of the goddess of the morning was sublimely beautiful. The figure is that of a lovely woman, drawn in a rose-coloured chariot by the celestial horses Lampus and Phaeton. Over her head, which is cinctured with radiance, the morning star is seen. Nox and Somnus, (night and sleep,) two female figures, fly before her. With rosy fingers she raises the veil of night, unbars the gates of the east, pours the dew upon the earth, and causes the slowers to spring out of the same:—then hastens away before a mightier than herself, the ardent Sol.

Although the name of Aurora is seen almost every where in the Grecian and Latin poets, yet but few traits of character apart from her daily avocation are ascribed to her. The best authorities describe her to have been one of the ancient goddesses of the Titans; but she rejoined her rank among the later race of gods. To the Titan Astratus, son of Črius, she bore the winds Zephy* Boreas and Notus, the Morning Star, and the Čonstellations. . The Greeks called her Eos, and regarded her as the daughter of Hyperion and Thia, sister of Sol and Luna—others say o was the daughter of Titan and Terra; and others still, that she was the daughter of Pallas, son of Crius, and hence her name Pallantias.

Notwithstanding her Titanic marriage, she was more than once enamored of beautiful morais. Among these are mentioned Cephalus, Tithonus and Orion. Cephalus had married Procris, the daughter of the king of Athens, whom he loved with an unshaken fidelity. When he could not be seduced from his faithfulness to his wis. by the seductions of Aurora, sho carried him to heaven to

try the influence of celestial attractions. Here she had no better success; and finally sailing in her amorous intentions, she sent him back again to earth to his wise, disguised as a merchant. She gave him a gift, however, with which his earthly peace was slain; it was an arrow that never missed its mark. And when Cephalus, seduced by the success of his shots, spent all his time away from home hunting wild beasts, his wife Procris feeling the pangs of jealousy, hid in the bushes to learn the nature of his absorbing pursuits. In her eagerness to see him she agitated the boughs, and he, thinking that some wild beast was lurking there, shot his too fatal arrow to the heart of his dear Procris. The beautiful Tithonus was the son of Laomedon, and brother to Priam, King of Troy. On account of his singular beauty, Aurora carried him to heaven, married him, and gained for him of the Fates the boon of immortality; but as she had forgotten to ask for him perpetual youth, he soon became an infirm, decrepid old man, to whom death would have been a blessing. He begged of his celestial spouse the power to die; but as the gift of immortality could not be recalled, she changed him into a grasshopper, which is fabled to have the power of moulting when it becomes old, and being young again. Aurora had one son by Tithonus, named Memnon, who figured in the Trojan war, and was killed by Achilles. To his memory, a statue of black marble was set up at Thebes, in Egypt. This statue has braved the storms for centuries, and is still standing. It is said that when the earliest rays of the dawn struck upon this statue, it would give out tones of music as is rejoicing to see its

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