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POETRY.

TO MY DAUGHTER,

On the Morning of her Birth-Day.

(BY LORD BYRON.*)

Hail, to this teeming stage of strife
Hail, lovely miniature of life!
Pilgrim of many cares untold!
Lamb of the world's extended fold!
Fountain of hopes, and doubts, and fears!
Sweet promise of ecstatic years!
How fainly would I bend the knee,
And turn idolater to thee!

'Tis nature's worship-felt-confessed
Far as the life which warms the breast:
The sturdy savage, 'midst his clan
The rudest portraiture of man,

In trackless woods, and boundless plains,
Where everlasting wildness reigns,
Owns the still throb-the secret start-
The hidden impulse of the heart.

Dear babe! ere yet upon thy years
The soil of human vice appears-
Ere passion hath disturbed thy cheek,
And prompted what thou darest not speak
Ere that pale lip is blanched with care,
Or from those eyes shoot fierce despair,
Would I could meet thine untuned ear
And gust it with a father's prayer.

But little reck'st thou, oh my child!
Of travail on life's thorny wild,
Of all the dangers, all the woes
Each loitering footstep which enclose---
Ah! little reck'st thou of the scene
So darkly wrought, that spreads between
The little all we here can find,
And the dark mystie sphere behind!
Little reck'st thou, my earliest born!

Of clouds that gather round thy morn,
Of arts to lure thy soul astray,
Of snares that intersect thy way,
Of secret foes, of friends untrue,
Of fiends who stab the hearts they woo-
Little thou reck'st of this sad store!
Would thou might never reck them more;

But thou wilt burst this transient sleep,
And thou wilt wake, my babe, to weep-
The tenant of a frail abode,

Thy tears must flow, as mine have flowed-
Beguiled by follies, every day,

Sorrow must wash the faults away;
And thon may'st wake perchance to prove
The pang of unrequited love.

Unconscious babe! though on that brow
No half-fledged misery nestles now-
Scarce round those placid lips a smile
Maternal fondness shall beguile,
Ere the moist footsteps of a tear
Shall plant their dewy traces there,
And prematurely pave the way

For sorrows of a riper day.

Oh! could a father's prayer repel

The eye's sad grief, the bosom's swell!

Or could a father hope to bear

A darling child's allotted care

+ This is authenticated to us as an unpublished poem of

Lord Byron's.-Museum.

Then thou, my babe, should'st slumber still,
Exempted from all human ill;

A parent's love thy peace should free,
And ask its wounds again for thee.

Sleep on, my child, the slumber brief
Too soon shalt melt away to grief-
Too soon the dawn of woe shall break,
And briny rills bedew thy cheek-
Too soon shall sadness quench those eyes-
That breast be agonised with sighs;
And anguish o'er the beams of noon
Lead clouds of care-ah! much too soon.

Soon wilt thou reck of cares unknown,
Of wants and sorrows all their own,
Of many a pang, and inany a woe,
That thy dear sex alone can know-
Of many an ill, untold, unsung,
That will not, may not find a tongue ?
But kept concealed without control,
Spread the fell cancers of the soul!

Yet be thy lot, my babe, more blest-
May joy still animate thy breast;
Still midst thy least propitious days,
Shedding its rich inspiring rays!
A father's heart shall daily bear
Thy name upon its secret prayer;
And as he seeks his last repose,
Thine image ease life's parting throes.
Then hail, sweet miniature of life!
Hail to this teeming stage of strife!
Pilgrim of my cares untold!

Lamb of the world's extended fold!
Fountain of hopes, and doubts, and fears!
Sweet promise of ecstatic years!
How fainly could I bend the knee,
And turn idolater to thee!

IMPROMPTU.

FASHIONS FOR MAY.

MORNING DRESS.

A round dress, composed of batiste; the bottom of the skirt is embroidered in a running pattern of pensées in yellow silk, surmounted by a wreath of the same flower disposed in a wave. High body, to fasten behind, and with a little fulness at the bottom of the back the bust is plain, and is cut moderately high on the shoulder; the waist the usual length Long sleeve, very tight, and finished by a pointed cuff; the points turn upwards, and are edged with yellow satin. Full epaulette, cut in slashes, which are filled with satin, to correspond with the trimming. A very full ruff, composed of Urling's lace, completely envelopes the throat. The head-dress is a demi cornette, nade of blond monti, and trimmed with yellow gauze ribbon the form is remarkably simple and elegant. Black kid shoes, and gloves to correspond with the trimming of the dress.

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FULL DRESS.

Round dress, composed of tulle, over a white satin slip the bottom of the skirt is finished by a garniture of tulle intermixed with pearls; this is surmounted by a trimming composed of tulle, chenille, and pearls, disposed in alternate wreaths of corn-flowers and roses: this trimming has a striking and elegant effect. The corsage is cut low, and in such a manner as to give considerable width to the chest: it is tight to the shape. Three falls of tourterelle points go entirely round the bust. Sleeve composed of tulle over white satin; it is short and full, and ornamented with points to correspond. The front hair is dressed in light full ringlets, which fall very low at the sides of the face. The hind hair is arranged in bows somewhat higher than it has lately been worn. Head dress, a very full plume of white ostrich feathers, and a pearl sprig. Necklace and ear rings, pearl. White kid gloves, and white gros de Naples shoes.

FRENCH EVENING DRESS.

Dress of gossamer pink satin under fine net; the net covered with chains formed of rouleaux of pink

On a musical Box and China Jar, which fell together satin, the border trimmed with puckerings of pink

from a table and were broken.

As both are lost,' quoth E****d W**tt, The matter can't disturb your quiet, Since, though the Harmony it mar, You see it does not leave a Jar.'

I'M YOUR MAN.

EXTEMPORE LINES IN ITALIAN,

On the first appearance of Mr. Salter in the much admired Tragedy of Virginius, as a Roman father.

Virginio! Virginio! qual mai furore!
Deh! t'arresta! non più! padre dolente;
E misera figlia, amorosa ed innocente.
Barbaro, empio, crudel; mi fai orrore!!

Virginia! or che d'un infelice amore
Preda fosti: d'una passione ardente:
E-Roma si dura morte rammente!
Più non resiste Icilio a tal dolore!
SALTER del tuo agire trasportato!
Tutto ver sembravami! e lagrimai!
E quasi divenni marmo gelato.
Corone d'allori il Popolo grato
Perciò a Te donò nè fia mai
'Da noi (per altrui perfidia) separato.

SINAMI ACYLLS.

We hope for a translation in English, by some of our readers.

crape with points of pink satin, turned up over the puckering, these points are edged with blond: the corsage finished with slashes in the Spanish fashion. sleeves short and full to correspond. The hair arranged in large curls and bows, and ornamented with pink and silver lama gauze. Isis serpent in front, formed of pearls. Ear-rings and necklace of large oriental pearls. White satin shoes, white kid gloves, and carved cedar fan.

Turquoise stones, pearls, and very small brilliants, set together, form a favourite article in jewellery for rings; gold ear-rings in the form of a cone, or of a chrysalis, are among the novelties of the day, as are pendants of topaz and rubies set transparent, in the light Italian manner.

The favourite colours are celestial blue, pink, lavender, and cream-colour.

LITERARY NOTICES.

Lord Byron has, we hear, sent a new tragedy over it is founded on a German story, which has already taken its place in English literature, though not in a dramatic form. Report says that his Lordship has not on this occasion departed from his wonted course.

A Monthly Magazine in the French language is about to be started in London, under the title of Le Musée des Variétés Littéraires.

The Grave of the last Saxon, or legend of the Curfew; a Poem. By the Rev. W. L. Bowles.

Mr. D. Turner, of Yarmouth, is preparing for press 1000 Autographs of most distinguished characters, with a brief memoir of each, and with portraits in some instances.

Sketches of the Life and Character of Patrick Henry. By Wm. Wirt, of Richmond; Virginia. Reprinted from the American Edition.

THE MUSAEID.

No. VII.-THURSDAY, MAY 9, 1822.

Non amo te.-MARTIAL.
Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl,
And from the palm to draw its freshening wine.-
THOMSON.

at the deep full richness of her voice. Tea was far
advanced, when Volatile was ushered into the room,
and it was only among the younger part that he could
attract the least notice, all the elderly ladies being
completely immersed in conversation. Pray, Mr.
Volatile,' said Miss Fairbrow, what has kept you so
long, we had almost ceased to expect you, and were
• But you
abandoning ourselves to disappointment.'

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see I'm here to comfort you; I hope I didn't keep tea waiting, however.' 'Oh, no.' Mr. Volatile,' We drink chocolate.-Coffee is a liquor that we seen Miss relish not.-Tea is a beverage only fit for old maids, said a waxen puny girl, have you washing-women, and cockneys, the genera of humanity Shufflebotham, that the town speaks so much of, I'm sure she is not so handsome as some people say; which we utterly eschew, loathe, and abominate. Why then do we write on a subject so detestable? Mr. Printwell takes great airs about her, but I We answer-we have good reasons :-if any one ask don't think much of her, certainly she is quite the which be they?' We have only to repeat- we have belle of Ardwick, but that's not much, you know. reasons, that we could and would give if we chose, 'Oh fie,' interrupted Volatile, it's very cruel in but not upon compulsion.-We are led perhaps to you to say so you know every body thinks her so beautiful.'Oh,' said Miss Gilhulme, tossing up complain more grievously upon this subject than we her head with the greatest affectation, the foolish ought, because we have always an alternative of one of the two last-mentioned fluids forced down our little chatterbox-d'ye know Mr. Volatile, she has throats when we answer the numerous cards of had her likeness taken by the automaton, and she invitation which rest upon our chimney-piece.-It is makes such a fuss about it-there's no bearingmighty curious indeed to observe how Volatile avoids what d'ye think she says she made Mr. Allknown bringing his lips in contact with these obnoxious such a speech about that portrait-that-' 'For potions-how he seems to sip, and contrives to spill mercy's sake, my dear Miss Gilhulme, do spare Then,' said the unrelenting lady, into the saucer-anon rises-to relieve some lady the poor girl-' there's Miss Potier and her brother Harry, with from her finished cup-then mingling with the chat which prevails on such occasions, delays it to the her fair tresses à la mode de Charles, and her beaudo take tiful sleepy languishing look, and her—' For pity last minute-the servant comes.- now another cup Mr. Volatile' says the lady of the house if not for love, Miss Gilhulme, have a little mercy.' 'And oh-that affected Miss Rind, and her sweet - Volatile is inflexible, the untouched cup is carried away, and his spirits revive-like the drooping bud flirt the juvenile ****** with his odious glass, which after the April shower-and he seems more pleased he so continually bores one with-and his drawling by the departure of the cups rattling upon the tray--impertinences-and then-' here Miss Gilhulme's than the devotees of gunpowder are by the hissing of the entering tea-urn.-Nevertheless there is a something exceedingly inspiring in the mute eloquence of a jingling tea-cup, something which causes the heart even to respond to the insipid prattle which such weak draughts promote; but these delights have been carried to too great an extent and tea parties in general are now become meetings, where scandal and defamation are the principal objects of conversation, and, where the demerits and defects of a neighbour are entered upon with the most rigid and censorious asVolatile where are you going in such a conperity. founded hurry,' said Panacey, as the former was hastily passing him, 'I can't stop,' said Volatile, peevish-❘ Zounds you must, for I've a hundred things to ly, tell you, and yet I won't detain you if you really are so anxious to be gone,' said the Doctor, observing Volatile's impatience; but in the name of petulance | whither are you going,' 'To the, no, no,' said he laughing, 'I'm going to Mr. Ravenhair's, I will see you at ten, I shan't be later.' What, ha, how many quadrilles did you dance at Mr. Give's ball with one part-ner, eh, but;'"Oh you must excuse me now,' said Volatile, and off he went. Now Mrs. Ravenhair and her sister, are in our opinion, very handsome, and very pleasant, and very entertaining, and we do not know whether we love more their good qualities, or admire their beauty; we have also been enchanted by their exquisite singing, and wehave no hesitation in asserting that Miss Fairbrow is much the best singer, in a private room, that we have ever had the pleasure of hearing, indeed we have been absolutely astonished

scandal became so loud that Volatile ventured to
solicit her attention to Miss Fairbrow, who wished
to know whether she would take more tea. No
thank ye, my love.' Nay now do oblige me-
Upon my word I have quite finished. Mr. Volatile
you have taken nothing at all, I really wish you
would help yourself to the cake, or bread and butter,
Miss Gilhnlme has prevented you from eating.' 'Oh
no, I can assure you,' said Volatile, I have quite
finished.' John you may take away,' said Mrs.
Ravenhair, I believe we have all finished.'' Mr.
Volatile d'ye sing?' said Miss Fairbrow, as the man
removed the équipage au thé I think you have a
No indeed, Miss Fairbrow, you are
singing face.'

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a bad physiognomist if you think so, upon my honour
I never sung except once, and that was to please an
old aunt of mine-but I have heard so much of your
talents, and have been so well pleased with what
little I myself have had the pleasure of witnessing,
that I hope you will favour us with a song.' What
must it be then,' said she, laughing, and rising she
Oh you best know,' said
took up her music book.
Volatile. We have before spoken of Miss Fairbrow's
singing, and had then no hesitation in giving it our
unqualified meed of approbation, but if the word of
a man may be trusted whom this last effort has dis-
tracted with the concord of sweet sounds, her singing
this evening was the ne plus ultra of harmony.

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was preparing a set for the quadrille, and shall be
happy to accompany you in Les Lanciers,' or Les
Graces, Mademoiselle.' Her fairy steps were lighter
than her angel voice was sweet. Volatile was en-
but his ecstacies may
tranced, enraptured, en—
best be painted by the following delirious effusion of
his muse.

0. ⚫ daughter and image of May,

The zest of each joy, and the balm of each sorrow,
As bright as the radiance that beams in the day,
And as sweet as the hope that beguiles in to morrow.
A star of delight at whose beamy approaching
The signals of triumph are seen in the skies;
The wind's hoarsest murmurs the tempest's reproaching,
Are sunk into breezes, are fallen to sighs.
And while all around (hushed in quiet) reposes,
The voice of creation proclaims in the gales;
Bright queen of the fair, of the lilies and roses,
High priestess of beauty, and wisdom, all hail!
Such shall be for ever the rapturous greeting,

The joy and the harmony wak'd by your tread;
Where pleasure with pleasure, and joy with joy meeting,
Shall break the black bandage of sorrow and dread.
O mighty enchantress! say, where is that fairy
That grac'd every charm which attends in your train?
And which rare as exquisite, fleeting as airy,

Earth ne'er had before, and will ne'er see again.
Tis something compounded of all the lost graces,
Of all the bright beams that ere beauty has cast;
Which in its wide range of perfection embraces,
The blaze of the present, the future, the past.
A spirit, an essence, a radiance, breaking
Around like an halo, that waits on your call,
That fires in your eye-beam, that plays in your speaking,
That glows in each part and yet mingles in all.
The bright emanation diffused from a relic,
Too sacred for earthy or Cyprian shrine;
Diffusing around it that lustre angelic,

The wide circling glory that marks it divine.

A form at whose glance, at one sight of whose motion,
Your joys and your sorrows alike would be o'er;
Your thoughts would be lost like a drop in the ocean,
And leave but behind them the wish to adore.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

What can we say to our correspondents for our long neglect of them? Nothing. What must our correspondents say to us? Nothing, if they please. We know we have behaved very uncivilly, but it will not become them to abuse us. We have indeed had some of the fairest hands disfigured with the hurry of indignation, first, at our unmannerly replications and now at our contemptuous taciturnity; but had they known the gracefulness of silence, they would not have committed themselves in petulance and wrath. Young ladies who are unaccustomed to communications with editors, will no doubt take it grievously amiss that they do not meet the same implicit attention which they usually receive, and to which perhaps their merits may justly entitle them; yet if they could know how it afflicts us to wound them, they would not blame us for delaying the painful sentence of condemnation, or the damning with faint praise,' which we are too often compelled to bestow on their productions.

Clarinda would not have written to 'demand some notice of her verses from Mr. Volatile,' nor have expressed herself 'amazed, at his want of gentlemanly propriety,' had she been aware that it was his high sense of 'gentlemanly propriety,' which forbade him to tell a lady that her verses were very silly verses: nor would Fannia bave 'thought that the editors might long since have found space for her sonnet in some number of the Musaeid,' could she only have imagined that it was her measure, and her numbers which were in fault.

But briefly, dear Correspondents, Juliet, Aminta, Kate, Jane, and Olivia, your ratings are lost upon us; we wont even tell you what we think of your Communications, but not one of them shall be published.

F: is wrong. We were not ashamed of meeting her in the Square the other day, but we saw her point us out to her friend and we hate to be attacked about the Musaeid. Delia wants to know how she must spend her time? Prófitably.

Mrs. Matadore's account of Miss Spadille's tea party will be inserted, but we cannot promise when. We heard the secret of the wedding long before Matilda sent it to us: we know the day too, which, we dare say, she does not, and the Millineries, which are ordered, from Mrs. Bean, that's the name we believe.

When Miss Fairbrow had finished Miss Gilhulme attempted to renew her pertinacious babbling, but Volatile would not attend to her. Though I cannot sing I can dance,' said he to Miss Fairbrow, who Tax EDITORS of the MUSAEID at the IRIS OFFICE.

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WEEKLY DIARY.

MAY.

REMARKABLE DAYS.

together, stalking halfe as high again as the rest of the world, for courtezans or the citizens may not weare choppines, but cover their bodies and faces with a vaile of a certaine glittering taffeta or lustreè, out of which they now and then dart a glaunce of their eye, the whole face being otherwise entirely hid with SUNDAY, 12.-Rogation Sunday. it; nor may the common misses take this habit, but go abroad barefac'd. To the corThis day takes its name from the Latin term ners of these virgin-vailes hang broad but flat rogare to ask; because, on the three subsequent tossels of curious Point de Venize; the mardays, supplications were appointed by Mam-ried women go in black vailes. The nobility ertus, Bishop of Vienna, in the year 469, to be weare the same colour, but of fine cloth lin❜d offered up with fasting to God, to avert some wth taffeta in summer, with fur from squirrels particular calamities that threatened his dio-in ye winter, which all put on at a certaine day girt with a girdle emboss'd with silver; the vest not much different from what our Bachelors of Arts weare in Oxford, and a hood of cloth made like a sack, cast over their left shoulder, and a round cloth black cap fringed with wool, which is not so comely; they also weare their collar open to shew the diamond button of the stock of their shirt. I have never seene pearle for colour and bignesse comparable to what the ladys weare, most of the noble families being very rich in jewells, especially pearles, which are always left to the son or brother who is destined to marry, which the eldest seldome do. The Doge's vest is of crimson velvet, the Procurator's, &c. of damasc, very stately. Nor was I lesse surprised with the strange variety of ye severall nations which were seen every day in the streetes and piazzas; Jews, Turks, Armenians, Persians, Moores, Greekes, Sclavonians, some their targets and boucklers, and all in their native fashions, negotiating in this famous emporium which is always crowded with stran

THURSDAY 16.-Ascension Day. From the earliest times, this day was set apart to commemorate our Saviour's ascension into heaven: all processions on this, and the preceding rogation days, were abolished at the Reformation. In London, on this day, the minister, accompanied by the churclavardens, and a number of boys, with wands, walk in procession, and beat the bounds of the parish. But this is not always practised, nor in every

year.

Mr. Evelyn's description of the manner in which Ascension Week was passed in Venice, in his time, (1645) is extremely curious, as affording a faithful picture of the then flourishing state of this once emporium of commerce, and a vivid delineation of the strange and fantastic costume of the Venetian ladies of that period. It was now Ascension Weeke, and the great mart or faire of ye whole yeare was kept, every body being at liberty and jollie.gers.'-(Evelyn's Memoirs.

The noblemen stalking with their ladys on choppines; these are high-heel'd shoes, particularly affected by these proude dames, or, as some say, invented to keepe them at home, it being very difficult to walke with them; whence one being asked how he liked the Ve netian dames, replied, that they were mezzo carne, mezzo ligno, half flesh, half wood, and he would have none of them. The truth is, their garb is very odd, as seeming alwayes in masquerade; their other habits also totally different from all nations. They weare very long crisped haire, of several strakes and colours, which they make so by a wash, dischevelling it on the brims of a broade hat that has no head, but an hole to put out their heads by; they drie them in the sunn, as one may see them at their windows. In their tire they set silk flowers aud sparkling stones, their peticoates coming from their very arme-pits, so that they are neere three quarters and half their sleeves are made exceeding wide, apron ; under which their shift sleeves as wide, and commonly tucked up to the shoulder, shewing their naked armes, thro' false sleeves of tiffany, girt with a bracelet or two, with knots of points richly tagged about their shoulders and other places of their body, which they usually cover with a kind of yellow vaile of lawn very transparent. Thus attir'd they set their hands on the heads of two matron-like servants, or old women, to support them, who are mumbling their beades. 'Tis ridiculous to see how these ladys crawle in and out of their gondolas by reason of their choppines, and what dwarfs they appear when taken down from their wooden scaffolds; of these I saw near thirty

with

Some beautiful reflections on the fallen state opening of the fourth Canto of Childe Harold, of Venice are given by Lord Byron, at the when he represents himself as standing upon a bridge, and indulging in the following train of meditations, naturally excited by the decaying splendour, unexpected desertedness, and antient glories of this romantic city:

I stood in Venice on the bridge of sighs
A palace and a prison on each hand:

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I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her han-

dred isles!

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was ;-her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs pattook, and deemed their dignity in-
creased.

In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear;
Those days are gone-but Beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade-but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy

TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,

FORTY YEARS AGO.

arrived in the very nick of time; my twe It was a lovely morning; a remittance had horses were in excellent condition; and I resolved, with a College chum, to put in execution a long concerted scheme of driving to London, Tandem. We sent our horses forward, got others at Cambridge, and tossing algebra and Anacharsis "to the dogs," started in high spirits. We ran up to London in style, went ball-pitch to the play-and after a quiet breakfast at the St. James's, set out with my west end of the town. We were turning down own horses upon a dashing drive through the the Haymarket, when whom, to my utter horror and consternation, should I see crossing to meet us, but my old warmhearted, but severe and peppery, uncle, Sir Thomas-?

and two carriages behind, made us stationary; To escape was impossible.-A cart before, and I mentally resigned all idea of ever succeeding to his five thousand per annum. Up he came. "What! can I believe my eyes? George; what thedo you do here; Tandem too, by" (I leave blanks for the significant accompaniments which dropped from his mouth, like pearls and rubies in the fairy tale, when he was in a passion.) "I have it," thought I, as an idea crossed my mind which I resolved to follow. I looked right and left, as if it was not possible it could be me he was addressing. "What you don't know me you Why, Sir,-in the name of common senseyoung dog? don't know your own uncle? Pshaw! you've done with that.-Why in— name an't you at Cambridge?" "At Cambridge sir?" said I. "At Cambridge, sir," he repeated, mimicking my affected astonishment; bridge! Oh! you young spendthrift; is this the "why, I suppose you never were at Camthe way you read hard? You young profligate! manner you dispose of my allowance; Is this you young-you"--Seeing he was getting energetic, I began to be apprehensive of a scene; and resolved to drop the curtain at once. "Really, sir," said I, with as brazen a look as I could summon upon emergency, “I have not the honour of your acquaintance"His large eyes assumed a fixed stare of astonishment--"I must confess you have the advantage of me. Excuse me, but, to my knowledge, I never saw you before."-A torrent, I perceived, was coming.-"Make no apologies, they are unnecessary. Your next rencontre will, I hope, be more fortunate; though your finding your country cousin in London is like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay.-Bye bye, old buck." The cart was removed, and I drove off'; yet not without seeing him, in a paroxysm of rage half frightful, half ludicrous, toss his hat on the ground, and hearing him exclaim--" He disowns me! the jackanapes! disowns his own uncle, by."

Poor Philip Chichester's look of amazement at this finished stroke of impudence is present, at this instant, to my memory. I think I see his face, which at no period had more expression than a turnip, assume that air of a pensive simpleton d'un mouton qui rêve, which he so often and so succesfully exhibited over an incomprehensible problem in "Principia.""Well! you've done it.--Dished completely. What could induce you to be such a blockhead?" said he. "The family of the Blockheads,

my dear Phil," I replied, "is far too creditably established in society to render their alliance disgraceful. I'm proud to belong to so prevailing a party." "Pshaw ! this is no time for joking. What's to be done?" " Why,

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CORRESPONDENCE.

Iris was your reply, and I can assure you it gave

DEAR SIR,-The first thing I perused in the last

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'ill-humour" that I

who is resolved to think for himself, who has cou-
me great pleasure. Every one admires the man
rage to question the theories which he doubts. Upon
my honour it was not with real
answered your second letter, it was assumed, and I
thought you would understand it as such. Should
we ever appear again as antagonists in the pages of
the Iris, I hope it will be with that mutual good-
temper which ought to distinguish philosophical con-
troversies. After receiving this communication, you
pute. I will not provoke a reply if I can avoid it.
will doubtless see the propriety of dropping this dis-
Sufficient has been said to encourage the young phi-
losopher to study this branch, of those laws which
the Almighty has instituted, for the preservation,
and the pleasure, of animated beings.

You

Sir, how singular!"-" Singular! I wonder at perjury no longer, for my part. I would have gone into any court of justice, and have taken my oath it was you. I never saw such a likeness. Your father and the fellow's mother when does a man want a joke, Phil, but when were acquainted, or I'm mistaken. The air, he's in trouble! However, adieu to badinage, the height, the voice; all but the manner, and and hey for Cambridge instantly." "Cam-damine, that was not yours. No-no, you bridge?" "In the twinkling of an eye--never would have treated your old uncle so." not a moment to be lost. My uncle will post "How rejoiced I am, that- "Rejoiced! there with four horses instantly; and my only so am I. I would not but have been undechance of avoiding that romantic misfortune ceived for a thousand guineas. Nothing but of being cut off with a shilling, is to be there seeing you here so quiet, so studious, surrounbefore him." ded by problems, would have convinced me. Ecod! I can't tell you how I was startled. I had been told some queer stories, to be sure, about your Cambridge etiquette. I heard that two Cambridge men, one of St. John's, the other of Trinity, had met on the top of Vesuvius, and that though they knew each other by sight and reputation, yet never having been formally introduced, like two simpletons they looked at each other in silence, and left the mountain separately and without speaking;--and that cracked fellow-commoner, Meadows, had shewn me a caricature, taken from the life, representing a Cambridge man drowning, another gownsman standing on the brink, and exclaiming, Oh! that I had had the honour of being introduced to that man, that I might have taken the liberty of saving him! But,-it, thought I, he never would carry it so far with his own uncle never heard your father was a gay man," continued he, musing; "yet, as you sit in that light, the likeness is" I moved instantly You say that the wearied retina, throwing itself "But it's impossible, you know, it's impos-into opposite or spasmodic action, is to you a new sible. Come, my dear fellow, come! I must hypothesis: I can assure you it is a well known one. get some dinner. Who could he be? Never mortal work, The See the works above quoted, and Dr. Darwin's imZoonomia, or the Laws of Orwere two people so alike!" ganic Life."--In the latter you will find many experiments which prove, and numberless analogies which support that very hypothesis which you state to be "unauthorized by experiment, and unsupported by have never once referred to the ear. How many kinds, or degrees of motion, is the tympanum ca

Without settling our bill at the inn, or making a single arrangement, we dashed back to Cambridge. Never shall I forget the mental anxiety I endured on my way there. Every thing was against us. A heavy rain had fallen in the night, and the roads were wretched. The traces broke-turnpike gates were shut; droves of sheep and carts impeded our progress; but in spite of all these obstacles, we reached the college in less than six hours."Has Sir Thomas-been here?" said I to the porter with an agitation I could not conceal. "No, sir." Phil" thanked God, and took courage." "If he does, tell him so and so," said I, giving veracious Thomas his instructions, and putting a guinea into his hand to sharpen his memory. "Phil, my dear fellow, don't show your face out of the college for this fortnight. You twig! God bless you."--I had barely time to get to my own room, to have ny toga and trencher beside me, Newton and Aristotle before me, optics, mechanics, and hydrostatics, strewed around in learned confusion, when my uncle drove up to the gate. "Porter, I wish to see Mr- "said he; "is he in his rooms?" "Yes sir; I saw him take a heap of books there ten minutes ago." This was not the first bouncer the Essence of

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I will now say a few words in reply--observe, I› do not intend to formally reply to your objections, though the materials for such crowd upon me. say that my term "spectrum" is unphilosophical; it is nevertheless appropriate, for doubtless nearly every spectre, that has been seen for ages past, has (not that they are infallible) have thus made use of been nothing more than a spectrum. The learned the word many years, and have not yet rejected it. This you will find by having recourse to the LXXVI vol. of the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society, and to the 5th number of that very Philosophical Publication, the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal. I must, therefore, continue to use the word in this sense, till you, or some other person, substitute a better.

Truth, as Thomas was known through college, had told for me; nor the last he got well paid fty," he generously gave me a draft for three analogy." What shall I say to you? You surely

for. "Ay! very likely. Reads very hard, I
dare
"No doubt of that, I believe,
say ?
Sir," said Thomas, as bold as brass. "You au-
dacious fellow! how dare you look in my face
and tell me such a deliberate falsehood? You
know he's not in college!" Not in college!
Sir, as I hope---” None of your hopes or
Shew me his rooms- -If two
hours ago I did not see--- See him,-yes,
I've seen him, and he's seen the last of me."

fears to me.

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He had now reached my rooms; and never shall I forget his look of astonishment, of amazement bordering on incredulity, when I calmly came forward, took his hand and welcomed him to Cambridge. "My dear Sir, how are you? What lucky wind has blown you here?"--"What, George! who-what-whyI can't believe my eyes!"-" How happy I am to see you!" I continued; "How kind of you to come! How well you're looking!" How people may be deceived!My dear George, (speaking very rapidly,) I met a fellow, in a tandem, in the Haymarket, so like you, in every particular, that I hailed him at once. The puppy disowned me--affected to cut a joke--and drove off. Never was I more taken off my stilts! I came down directly with four post-horses, to tell your Tutor; to tell the Master; to tell all the College, that I would have nothing more to do with you; that I would be responsible for your debts no longer; to inclose you fifty pounds, and disown you for ever."-"My dear

We dined at the inn, and spent the evening
together; and instead of the fifty, the last
times the amount. He left Cambridge the
next morning, and his last words were, as he
entered his carriage, My brother was a
handsome man; and there was a Lady Some-

body, who, the world said, was partial to him.
God bless you! Read hard you young dog;
She may have a son. Most surprising likeness.
remember. Like as two brothers!" I never
saw him again.

His death which happened a few months
afterwards, in consequence of his being bit in
a bet, contracted when he was a "little eleva-
ted," left me the heir to his fine estate! I wish
I could add, to his many and noble virtues. I
do not attempt to palliate deception. It is
always criminal. But, I am sure, no severity,
no reprimand, no reproaches, would have had
half the effect which his kindness, his confi-
dence, and his generosity wrought on me. It
reformed me thoroughly, and at once. I did
not see London again till I had graduated;
and if my degree was unaccompanied by bril-
liant honours, it did not disgrace my Uncle's
liberality or his name. Many years have
elapsed since our last interview; but I never
reflect on it without pain and pleasure-pain,
that our last intercource on earth should have
been marked by the grossest deception; and
pleasure, that the serious reflections it awak-
ened cured me for ever of all wish to deceive,
and made the open and straightforward path
of life, that of

AN OLD STUDENT.

pable of?

Again, you say, that if, as I contend, the retina has the power of spontaneously falling into action, it must have the power of spontaneously refusing to act. This is certainly a very strange assumption. And then you say that," according to this hypothesis, each individual has entire command over his own optic nerves; can throw them into any kind of action he pleases," in other words, that falling into action "of its own accord," is the same as falling into action at the command of the will. Thus you sanction the following conclusion, that spontaneously falling into action, is the same thing as not spontaneously falling into action. Nothing else can be made of

your paragraph.

With regard to spectra being divided into direct and inverse, nothing is more easy of solution. To medical men, these are small difficulties.

The following quotations will convince you that I, have very great authorities for the opinions I have stated. From all these experiments it appears, that the spectra in the eye are not owing to the mechanical impulse of light impressed on the retiua, . nor to its chemical combination with that organ, nor to the absorption and emission of light."-" By the following observations it appears, that a similar cir

cumstance obtains in the organ of vision; after it neously falls into the opposite kind." Sect. III. has been fatigued by one kind of action, it spontaThe motions of the retina demonstrated by experiments."-See the works above quoted.

From the experiments which I myself have made, and from the researches of others, I have every. reason to believe what I have advanced to be cor

not.

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reception of the waters of the deluge: if you believe, that the Deity created the Dilavian Waters, it surely requires no great stretch of credulity to believe, that he also destroyed them, when it became desirable to withdraw them from the surface of the earth.

rect. The objections stated by you are easily removed, I must therefore still cherish these doctrines; you can please yourself whether you admit them or You surely will not condemn them before you have made yourself acquainted with that information which the above works so abundantly supply. No In the fourth paragraph of your letter you say, person holds in greater veneration than myself the that "if a central fire be allowed, one part of such illustrious Newton; but since his time, discoveries an immense globe of caloric might be hotter nnd more have been made in his favourite sciences of which he expanded than another!!!" Proh pudor! What is had no idea. I shall pass over your attempt at ridi-heat but calorie? In a body of caloric, it is evident, cule, confident that that "unphilosophical way of that, were such a case possible, that portion would objecting was forced from you by my words, " cap- necessarily be the hottest, not where the caloric was tions, jeering, &c." which I am sorry for having the most expanded, but where it was the most conused. I must now take my leave of you. I shall densed. But to return:-it is ascertained, that the rejoice to see you again in the Iris, on any other pressure of fluids is the same in all directions, and it subject. I shall myself sometimes trouble our kind is therefore impossible, that the expansion of any Editor with a lucubration. portion of this central globe of caloric should affect one part of the earth, more than another; the least expansion in any portion must necessarily affect the whole, and produce a simultaneous eruption at all its vent-holes.

Most respectfully I subscribe myself,
A FRIEND.

Pendleton, May 8th, 1822.

TO "LAPIS,"

VOLCANOES.

SIR, You are surprised, that I reject a doctrine so generally assented to, as that of the existence of a central cavity :-mere universality of assent, however, adds little to the value of speculative opinions; every body once thought, that the sun moved round the earth; and he, who first asserted a contrary opinion, was despised as a fool, and punished as a heretic:-let us, then, examine how far I am justified in denying the existence of a central cavity.

You acknowledge it impossible to conjecture how this central cavity was produced, but persist in maintaining its existence, and quote a passage from the Book of Genesis, viz. " the earth was without form and void," in support of your assertion. To this evidence I object, first, that it is inadmissible; and, secondly, that it has no connexion with the point in question. In the first place, an attentive examination of the first four or five chapters of the Book of Genesis will convince you, that they were not composed by Moses internal evidence, not unsupported by external coincidence, proves them to consist merely of a collection of national traditions; the first of which, referring to events, which preceded the birth of man, is no better authority than the traditions of the same events, which have been preserved by other nations, and by which the Mosaic account of the creation is contradicted the evidence, therefore, of such traditions is evidently of no authority, and therefore inadmissible. But supposing Moses to have been the author, the inspired author of this history of the creation, and supposing our translation of that history to accord with, and convey exactly the ideas of the original, as composed by Moses, yet does the passage quoted afford no support to your argument. That a cavity should be formed and maintained in the centre of an uncondensed nebule of heterogeneous matter;-that any natural cause should so teract the operation of the universal law of gravity, as to prevent the different atoms from coming within a certain distance of their common centre of attraction, is a supposition evidently absurd: your translation of the term "void" is therefore incorrect, and the passage in question can have no reference to the existence of a central cavity.

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By this view of the subject we moreover prove, that earthquakes do not originate in the expansion of this supposed central globe of caloric; for, while a passage is afforded by existing volcanoes, the superabundant caloric will never exert itself to form fresh vent-holes.

Should you choose to make any reply to these observations, I shall thank you to inform me, how you suppose this accumulation of caloric in the centre of the globe to be effected; it being a known property of the matter of heat, not to congregate, but to separate ;-not to accumulate, but to spread itself through all surrounding matter, until it has found its equilibrium.

TO THE Editor,

P.

SIR,-Every lover of the drama must feel gratified that the town of Manchester has expressed, in so decided and dignified a manner, its determination to protect deserving performers from the caprice of those, who ought always to be governed by the will of the public.

It is hardly probable that the "gentlemen" managers at Liverpool, will disregard a marked expression of public feeling so much, as to insist on Mr. Salter's dismissal; but are they not likely to be a little embarrassed by their engagement with Mr. Vandenhoff? No one imagines that gentleman will condescend to perform second rate characters, where Mr. Salter occupies the first rank; and, whatever may be the feelings of Mr. S. on the subject, the inhabitants of this town will not suffer their favourite to be thrown into the shade. Under these circumstances, Mr. Salter may be forced to a temporary retirement from the Manchester boards, and, in that case, could any thing be more gratifying to his patrons, than some lasting memorial of his talents, and their approbation; especially, if that memorial could be made the means of profit to Mr. S. and a gentlemen managers," convincing proof to those, that, even without their assistance, the town of Manchester knows how to remunerate those who exert themselves for the public gratification.

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An en

The portrait of Mr. Salter, in the character of Hamlet, drawn by Mr. Minasi, affords an opportuYou say the sensation of increased heat is produced aity for putting such a plau into execution. upon descent into wells, &c. and hence infer the graving from it would be a gratification to the existence of a central fire: some other cause, how- admirers of Mr. Salter, and a source of considerable ever, of this sensation must be sought that the emolument to that gentleman, if he were to publish it temperature of the atmosphere does not become by subscription, and the demand were as great, as the partiality of the public would lead us to anticigreater, as we descend into the earth, has been proved by various experiments; amongst others, Dr. pate. The drawing is, in itself, a chef d'oeuvre, Withering found the thermometer, at the bottom of and an engraving from it, such as a pupil of Bartoa well 84 feet deep, to stand uniformly at 49° dur-lozzi might be expected to produce, would be a ing the year 1798.

You most ignorantly attribute non-combustion in certain wells to the rarefaction of the air by heat: it is ascertained that it is the presence of carbonic acid gas that produces this effect.

You imagine a central cavity necessary for the

proof of the flourishing state of the fine arts in Manchester, as well as of the liberality with which excellence is there patronized.

GIACOMO.

• Mr. Minasi was a pupil of that celebrated Engraver.

BRIEF OBSERVATIONS

On the use of the article a or an, before words beginning with a vowel.

"A becomes an, before a vowel, &c."-Murray's Gram.

Words beginning with the vowel, a, are universally used with an, as, an admirer, an aeronaut, an airgun, an aorist, an auricula, &c.

An, is used before words beginning with the vowel e; when e, is succeeded by a consonant, or

the vowels, a, i, o, or y; as, an echo, an eagle, an eighteenth, an eoliple, an eye; when succeeded by the vowels w, or u; a, is used without exception; as, a ewe, a ewer; pronounced as if written you and your; a European, a euthanasy, a eunuch, a euphony, &c.

I, has no exceptions to the rule, as, an Indian, an iambick, &c.

O, has but one exception, and that is in the word, one; thus we say "such a one;" "a one," which may be easily accounted for; in the pronunciation of this word, w, appears to be understood, as if it were written (won) which does not occur in any other word beginning with o; except, once. All others follow the rule, as, an optician, an oath, an oeiliad, an oilman, an ooze, an outwatch.

U, the last vowel, (for w and y are only vowels under peculiar circumstances), may be comprehended under two rules; 1. When, u, at the beginning of a word is sounded long; a, must be used, as, a union, a university, a unit, &c. 2. When short, an, is invariably applied, as, an underling, an upstart, &c. IOTA.

THE DRAMA.

MANCHESTER DRAMATIC REGISTER.

Monday, May 6th.-For the Benefit of Mr. Browne:
King Richard III.; Chrononhotonthologos; and
Love Laughs at Locksmiths.
Wednesday, 8th.-The Stranger; with Brother and
Sister.

Friday, 10th.-For the Benefit of Mr. and Mrs.
Chapman King Lear; with Valentine and Orsou.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

We have received, during the last week, several letters in which our correspondents complain of their contributions having been passed over without notice. We beg that it may, in future, be understood, that we by no means reject all the pieces to which we do not advert particularly.Were we to answer fully every correspondent, our notices would occupy a considerable portion of our publication.-From our stock of unpublished communications, if the authors will permit us, we purpose occasionally to borrow. We trust this explanation will be deemed sufficient. We are obliged to "B." for his offering; but as we shall decline making use of it, we have chosen the other alternative.

Communications have been received from Dramaticus. Observer.-A Subscriber.-Junius.-X. Y. -Vindex.-B. on Woman.-S-n.-Adam.— Ybznk.-N. K.-J. C.-A Coustant Reader.-and Job.

Manchester: Printed, Published, and Sold, by the Proprietors, HENRY SMITH AND BROTHERS, St. Ann's Square, to whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed. Sold also by all the Booksellers in Manchester and the neighbouring towns.

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