THE TWO FOSCARI. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1822. THIS tragedy contains more interest in its plot, but less beauty in its poetry, and less skill in the management of its action, than Sardanapalus. A father sitting in judgement on his son (whose chief crime is love for his country) and condemning him to the torture from political necessity;-with a wife's distress, and the sudden death of both father and son, from the violence of their feelings,-seem materials that promise a most powerful display of passion. The reader, however, finds, that all this produces much less effect, than he could possibly have expected, and is surprised to reflect on the indifference with which he has perused the tragic fates of father and son. Both characters are in fact, cold, tedious, and unnatural, and their deaths have a studied artificial effect which does not excite the sympathies of the reader. This piece labours under another disadvantage, in comparison with its predecessor, in the interest being divided between two characters, the father and son; and his lordship has not the powers requisite to support a variety of character, (as I have before observed,) and only excels in a sort of monodrama, or (at least) when all the subordinate characters are quite subservient to the principal one. Francis Foscari' the Doge, is presiding in council, while his son, Jacopo,' is undergoing the torture, when the wife of the latter Marina' forces her way into the council chamber;-the different feelings of this group are thus described by a spectator : And the deep agony of his pale wife, And the repress'd convulsion of the high And princely brow of his old father, which Broke forth in a slight shuddering, though rarely, Or in some clammy drops, soon wiped away In stern serenity; these moved you not?' is the query addressed to the bitter enemy of Foscari, who stalks away in silence, on which the querist observes 'He's silent in his hate, as Foscari Was in his suffering; and the poor wretch moved me All the personages in this drama, are painted with a repulsive chilliness of deportment, excepting Ma PRICE 34d. rina, whose grief shews itself in unfeminine taunts, | inflexible despair, or a boisterous, declamatory sorloud boisterous declamation, and sarcasms on the row, mixed with invectives against destiny. misrule of this world; by which, though his lordship may delight in it, certainly the interest and the beauty of the female character, cannot be heightened. Marina is one of the least interesting, I may say, most repulsive of all his lordship's females; and in plain prose, would be called a shrew. I should suppose, Xantippe consoled Socrates much in the same style, in his last confinement. On visiting her husband's father, after taunting him with much bitterness on his want of feeling, she asks him Are you content? DOGE. I am what you behold. MARINA. And that's a mystery. DOGE. All things are so to mortals; who can read them Save he who made? or, if they can, the few And gifted spirits, who have studied long That loathsome volume-man, and pored upon Those black and bloody leaves his heart and brain, But learn a magic which recoils upon The adept who pursues it: all the sins We find in others, nature made our own; All our advantages are those of fortune; Birth, wealth, health, beauty, are her accidents, And when we cry out against Fate, 'twere well We should remember Fortune can take nought Save what she gave-the rest was nakedness, And lusts, and appetites, and vanities, The universal heritage, to battle With as we may, and least in humblest stations, Where hunger swallows all in one low want, And the original ordinance, that man Must sweat for his poor pittance, keeps all passions Aloof, save fear of famine! All is low, And false, and hollow-clay from first to last, The prince's urn no less than potter's vessel.'" -'nothing rests Upon our will; the will itself no less Depends upon a straw than on a storm; And when we think we lead, we are most led, And still towards death, a thing which comes as much Without our act or choice, as birth, so that No one of the characters speaks of hope of a future state of enjoyment, as a compensation for the miseries they endure in this; there is no calm resignation, no patience in suffering,-but a stiff, stern, The characters are all drawn from a standard which becomes repulsive from its unvarying gloom, and tiresome from its monotony. Jacopo's love for his country seems to be his only crime, and this love, though founded in fact, yet is so exaggerated in the narrative, so far removed from any sympathy of the reader's, that when the whole interest of the piece revolves upon it, it is no wonder that dullness and want of interest are complained of. When his wife tells him that he must no more be tortured, but sent back to Candia, he thus answers her. 'I could endure my dungeon, for 'twas Venice; We certainly acknowledge the justice of the lady's reply. This love of thine Loredano, the bitter foe of the Foscari, is one of the most repulsive, cold-blooded villains, in the whole course of the drama; and excites no sensation but unmixed disgust; he pursues his victims till he has glutted his eyes with both their deaths, and then enters in his tablets, pointing to the Doge's body, That he has paid him.' Jacopo dies from the excess of his grief, on being compelled to leave his country, which grief he thus forcibly expresses. 'Never yet did mariner Put up to patron saint such prayers for prosperous And pleasant breezes, as I call upon you, Ye tutelar saints of my own city! which Ye love not with more holy love than I, To lash up from the deep the Adrian waves, And waken Auster, sovereign of the tempest! Till the sea dash me back on my own shore A broken corse upon the barren Lido, Where I may mingle with the sands, which skirt The land I love, and never shall see more! MARINA. And wish you this with me beside you? ing to leave his prison. The Doge his father is deposed, and on hearing the tolling of the bell for his successor, he becomes violently agitated, and after walking a few steps, stops and says After this he becomes faint, and dies on attempt- [ Clerk, of Pennycnick, Bart. His birth occurred in the year 1681 or 2, and eventually he was designed by his parents for the bar, being a youth of brilliant intellect. However, the bent of his genius and application lay in painting, and he first sought improvement by repairing to London, to study under Sir John Medina, a painter of high reputation at the commencement of the last century. After which he took a tour, first visiting Rome, where he made some stay to perfect his practice. He then visited Constantinople and Smyrna, and again arrived in London, and shortly after returned to his native country, with the patronage of John Duke of Argyle, and other 'I feel athirst-will no one bring me here A cup of water?' -Loredano gives him one, on which he talks of an old legend, which says, that if aught of venom touches Venetian crystal it will burst;' certainly a very inconsistent remark from one who believes religion to be a cheat, and whose previous character had been principally marked by general scepticism. His agitation encreases, and thus is terminated. BARBARIGO. Scottish Noblemen. In the course of three years, after painting many portraits with an ability highly reputable, he returned to London to pursue his professional avocations; at •He sinks!--support him!-quick-a chair-sup- the same time he embraced the study of the sister port him! Arts of Poetry and Music, and became with ardour the Muses' friend. Mr. Aikman brought Allan Ram DOGE. "Dear to the good and wise, disprais'd by none, Here sleep in peace, the Father and the Son, John Aikman has etched two or three plates which consist of three or four busts introduced into each plate; some of these are selected or copied from prints or etchings by Vandyke. These essays are touched in with spirit, and evince an emulation to attain to the perfections of that renowned artist from which they are borrowed. Manchester, Feb. 1822. SEA STORIES; T. D. London, introducing the latter, not only to the first Many excellent portraits of eminent characters of the day, and more particularly of contemporary poets and persons of high distinction emanated from his pencil. Mr. Vertue highly commends the portrait of Gay the poet. From this picture a print has been engraved in mezzotinto by Francis Kyte. In addition, portraits of the following persons have been engraved from Mr. Aikman's pictures; of Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun; etch'd by the Earl of Buchan: of Wm. Carstairs, S. T. P. Edinburgh; by Richard Cooper of John Duke of Argyle, in Birch's lives; by J. Houbraken of Charles Lord Cathcart, in armour; by W. Werdler: of Thomas Hamilton, Earl of Haddington; in mezzotinto, by John Smith; a singular inscription is prefixed to this fine print, namely, "Simon the Dutch Skipper:" of Sir Heu Dalrymple of North Berwick, President of the Court of Session; by R. Cooper: of Allan Ramsay, the poet; in mezzotinto, by G. White: of James Thomson, the poet; venet. : No. I. "The sails are filled-the anchor weighed, -I took my pas In the summer of the yearsage in the Squalldriver; we were bound forand I spent the first part of my voyage most delightfully. The view of the vast and boundless expanse of waters, may, to many, be tiresome and monotonous, but with me it has quite the contrary effect. Hours could I linger luxuriously reclining over the keel, which was rapidly ploughing it's way through the foaming waves, gazing upon the tumultuous billows as they sparkled and foamed up, and then sunk again, as the vessel cut through them. There is nothing more delightful, nothing which renders the mind so pleased and satisfied with itself, as the view of this mighty element in it's peaceful mood; and nothing more awful and terrific than to see it raging in all the wild and grand majesty of a storm. One evening, as I was carelessly reclining over the by Basire: of Wm. Kent, the architect; by Ra-side of the ship, I witnessed a most lovely and pleasing scene. As far as the eye could extend, all was calm and still, and the tiny undulating waves played and rippled (as if in disport) round the almost motionless ship. The last faint quivering rays of the sun SIR,-If it should prove in any way interesting to the perusers of your Miscellany to introduce documents connected with Arts and Artists, I shall feel happy occasionally to furnish you with a few Biographical notices of such persons, and more particularly Of Mr. Aikman's practice in the calcographic art, those, who have in any way exercised their genius or the only existing example that can be traced, is an professional talent in the Calcographic Art. Engrav- etching of the portrait of George Edwards, a celeing is an art in which its fruitful resources do interest brated naturalist. This portrait is within an oval, in a greater or less degree, persons of every quali-encompassed with feathers, birds, &c. &c. and is fication in society; who seek in this mirror of nature, signed W. A. fe.-Small 4to. those subjects that tend either to heighten or cultivate their refinement, or to add to their intellectual amusements; by which the most pleasing and durable reflections are impressed on the faculties of those who seek the gratifying results of its communication. For the present I shall present you with a BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF WILLIAM AIKMAN, And notice his Son John. Wm. Aikman was the only Son of Wm. Aikman, of Cairnes, Esq. by Margaret, daughter of Sir John There are impressions from this plate to be met with prior to the insertion of the name of its representative. shone upon the clouds, which appeared reluctant to part with them, and the moon, the usurper of his sta us. tion, sat encircled with her bright companions shining around her, and shed her purest beam of beauty upon The light soft evening breeze which had now arisen, and whose coolness (for it had been a very A portrait of W. Aikman is in the celebrated work sultry day) was inexpressibly grateful, began to crisp entitled Museum Florentinum.' Mr. Aikman had an only son, named John, who pursued the profession of his father, but who died at a very early age, a short time preceding the demise of his parent. Their remains were conveyed to the Grey-friars' cemetery, in Edinburgh, and laid in the same tomb; which bears this Epitaph from the pen of Mallet. slightly the beautiful mirror which lay expanded before me; to make a soft, melancholy, and, as Byron would term it, wordless music,' through the furled up canvas, and to die away in gentle murmurs upon the tremulous waves, which it kissed with all the amorous playfulness of the breath of June. The silvery and beautiful reflection of the heavens, given a moment before, so truly in the waters, was now all in motion, and the sea appeared one glistening sheet of tinizing his neighbour's appearance, for want of a liquid silver. better employment, the Captain thus addressed us :— 'The story I am now going to tell you, is as true as the history of Jonah's whale, and may the eternal d—l seize me, if I tell you a single lie from beginning to end.' Then was my soul alive to all the inexpressible but pleasing associations, which such a soene calls forth. Each little sparkling billow that rose higher than it's fellow, appeared to me the residence of some Naiad; then did I expect to behold emerging from the deep, Rather surprised at so promising an outset, which the fair streamy dripping locks of a beautiful Mer-premised indeed that the tale he was about to narrate maid, the curled tube of some scaly Triton, or the dark and awful countenance of old Neptune himself. I was roused from this reverie, by hearing a low mellow voice, sing in a plaintive strain, as near as I ⚫an recollect, the following words. SONG. Adieu! adieu! my dear domain, O'er roaring seas, to realms remote, But in whatever region placed, Back, on the wings of fancy borne, I'll see it's smoke-wreaths rise, Adieu! adieu! thou dear domain, But in whatever region placed Shall live those scenes so fair. He ceased, and I remained fixedly gazing on the songster. Never had I seen so handsome, or so expressive a countenance. He was leaning, like myself, pensively gazing on the peaceful deep. Melancholy had deeply marked his features, and the traces of sorrow sat upon his beautiful brow. Perceiving that I was looking intently at him, he turned his head towards me, and regarded me with that confused and burning blush of shame, which grief betrays, at being exposed to the observation of a careless intruder. He turned away, and with a heavy heart descended into the cabin. I followed him as quickly as possible, resolving, if I could manage it, to enter into an acquaintance with him; for I was very much prepossessed by his external appearance. When I entered the cabin I found he had joined a group, which had formed round the Captain, who was entertaining them with some marvellous tales of some of his own exploits. He (the captain) was a tall well made man, dark complexioned, and possessed that short crispy curled hair, which is usual to persons distinguished with his complexion. He had a fierce and somewhat lording expression continually playing in his dark eye, and an unfortunate twitch, which every now and then, convulsed his face, rendered his appearance, at first sight, rather unprepossessing. The female part of our crew now entered, and the evening's provisions being discussed, while we were sitting round the table, each one staring at, and seru was of the marvellous kind,-we listened in mute expectation of it, and were not long ungratified. TALE I. The Captain's Story. 'When I was,' said the Captain, one of Vanderbrugget's men, we staid near the coast of Spain to take in some water; for that belonging to our ship, owing to some impure substance having fallen into it, had turned bad, and we were obliged to replenish our casks. 'One night, as I was endeavouring to swing myself to sleep in my hammock, that feverish and restless inquietude came upon me, which we generally find precedes danger. I could not sleep; I closed my eyes, and endeavoured to rock my thoughts away, but all would not do. I determined to dress myself, and see whether the cool night breeze would have any better effect in calming my perturbed imagination. 'I went on deck, all was calm and tranquil, and the light winds blew mildly around me. I perceived a man advancing, he approached me cautiously and with almost noiseless steps. I started, for I apprehended some treachery. He lifted one hand to his lips, and with the other pointed to the stern of the vessel. There I saw, dimly stealing along, a figure with a dark heavy burthen in it's arms; it stood over the rudder: it pondered for a moment on the silent deep, and then let fall it's load. The splash startled me: all had before seemed like a dream, from which I could awake when I chose, but this noise jarred in upon it, and brought me back as it were to reality. My companion and I looked at each other in mute surprize, we waited but for a moment, and then darted to the other end of the vessel, but the figure had vanished. At a little distance in the sea floated the dark object, which we had observed it carry. The boat with two barrels full of fresh water was alongside of the ship, and we lost not a moment in descending into it, and if possible to get possession of this, whatever it might be, which the mysterious figure had committed to the waves. • But before we had loosed the ropes, which fastened the boat to the ship, it had got a considerable way towards the land, for the tide, which was now coming in, had washed it in that direction. 'We gained perceptibly upon, and at last had almost reached it, when we found ourselves drawn along with irresistible violence. The dark object too seemed to be agitated in the same manner, for it rolled onwards with surprizing velocity towards a huge pile of rocks that towered perpendicularly above the sea. We found that we were drawn onwards by a strong land current, and all our exertions to stop the boat were unavailing. 'We threw down our oars and gave ourselves up for lost, inwardly cursing that foolish curiosity, which had brought us into this dangerous situation. 'We were now almost upon the rocks, when the black object was sucked under a small cavern which just appeared, and down which the water rushed with whelming force. We threw ourselves instinctively flat in the boat, and the next moment we were swal lowed down the dreadful cataract. What horrible sounds then smote my ears. The roaring and boiling of the water in the tremendous basin beneath, the rolling echoes of the hollow rocks returning the sound, penetrated my senses, and almost congealed me with horror. I had been thrown, on my first arrival into this house of terror, out of the boat, and hurled down headlong with the stream, which had left me almost senseless, and sorely bruised upon a rock, that jutted out into the water. There I lay, with the cold spray of the impetuons waves dashing upon me, almost unable to distinguish: any object, for there was a cloud of mist arising from the rushing fall of water, that concealed every object for awhile. My brain now began to grow giddythe dreadful appalling and continued sound of the. stream-the hazy mist which enveloped all—and the damp and petrifying coldness of the place, deprived me nearly of my reason. All now began to swim around me-the rocks that protruded through the hovering clouds of mist, appeared like demons grin. ning in mockery at me; the deafening roar of the cataract appeared like the voice of some vast giant, groaning and endeavouring to rend asunder his eternal chains. The rock, upon which I lay, seemed to spin round, and at last crack and gape to swallow me: in the attempt to avoid this I thought I fell again into the waves: then was I again dashed against the rocks, and again my body was torn and mangled against the sharp shingles. I struggled-I screamed-and exerted myself against this ideal death, and was at last relieved by a friendly swoon. When I recovered from this trance, I found that I had indeed been washed, considerably down the cavern, and part of my body was immersed in the water; how I escaped this second time from destruction, I cannot conceive, but there I was. 'I now perceived, high over my head, at one side of this tremendous cave, a faint glimmering of light, which shone down like a star upon me. It was as sweet to me, at that moment, as the first glimpse of the shores of America, to the eye of Columbus ;-as sweet as the sight of land to the tempest-tossed mariner. Hope, so long dead, was now re-awakened in my bosom, my stiffening limbs, almost frozen with cold and terror, seemed to imbibe fresh elasticity, and the warm blood gushed to my heart. 'I now crept back, as far as I could, along a ledge of rocks, to observe how large the opening was; and found it was a chink or fissure in the rock, sufficiently wide to permit the body of a man to pass through :-and with feelings of joyful gratitude, I perceived, that if I could get on to some overhanging rocks which formed a kind of platform, I might crawl from one to the other, and at last pass the opening. But how to attain this, was now the great difficulty; at last I thought of an expedient which, in the end, answered all my intentions. I took my dripping coat and trowsers, and having cut them into broad strips, sufficiently strong to bear my weight, I knotted them at intervals, and with the addition of my stockings formed a rope long enough for my pur pose. This I now slung over the rock, and, being naturally agile, by laying hold of both extremeties, soon gained the first place; I crawled on to this and was almost at the summit of my wishes. I however paused not a moment-I passed the next ledge-the third, and the opening appeared wider and brighter. The clear flood of day shone direct upon me, and I was almost stupified. With redoubled vigour I now pushed onwards-I came to the aperture-I gazed at it a moment, and then pushed myself through. POETRY. LINES On the death of Maria Rathbone, a little girl 8 years old; who was lost on the 20th December last; and found on the 14th January lying under a willow in a field about 400 yards from the Crown Inn, Lower Peover, Cheshire. She had been sent by her mother, who resides at Henbury, near Macclesfield, on an erraud; and, as it appeared on the The place where I had now arrived, was a green slope on the side of a mountain, and I had come through an opening almost concealed with over-hang-inquest held over her body, must have lost her way on return ing briars. What my sensations then were, I feel myself quite unable to describe. I laughed I danced -and then sat myself down to weep. My limbs ached excessively, and smarted with the many wounds I had received, but notwithstanding this, I fell into a sound sleep, undisturbed by any visions but those of felicity and bliss. When I awoke, I found myself in a small bed, in a neat comfortable cottage. been found by some peasantry, who had humanely taken care of me; from thence I got into a ship, bound for England, and by my good luck have become what you see, the captain of this ship. I had 'But there is one circumstance, which I must not forget to relate; one, which has a reference to that infernal chest-for it was one, so astonishing and mysterious, that when I think upon it, my blood eurdles with horror; and if it is in the night time, I can never get a wink of sleep after. As a farmer was passing a certain mountain where a wild stream gushes from beneath a rock, he perceived' Here the captain was interrupted, in his account of this curious chest, by a jolt of the vessel, which had thrown a maiden-lady's glass of brandy and water full in his face. A strong gale had caught our ship on the lee side and occasioned the shock, which had produced this unfortunate disaster. A CANDID CANDIDATE. I The following address was really written by a very honest gentleman, who was a candidate for the office for which he here solicits the suffrages of his fellow citizens: Gentlemen-I offer myself a candidate for Sheriff; I have been a revolutionary officer; fought many bloody battles; suffered hunger, toil and heat; got honourable scars, but little pay. will tell you plainly how I shall discharge my duty, should I be so happy as to obtain a majority of your suffrages. If writs are put in my hands against any of you, I will take you if I can, and unless you can get bail, I will deliver you over to the keeper of the jail.-2nd. If judg ments are found against you, and executions directed to me, I will sell your property as the law directs, without favour or affection; and if there should be any surplus money, I will punctually remit it.-3rd. If any of you should commit a crime (which God forbid) that requires capital punishment, according to law, I will hang you up by the neck, till you are dead!!!-American Journal. ing. The Verdict of the Jury was, that she died through hunger, fatigue, and the inclemency of the weather. Poor little hapless wand'rer, say Why thus forsaken dost thou roam? With man's unfeeling selfish kind. I stray'd to yonder distant farm, The tears, the anguish, of my mother; As cheerful as the lark in spring This morn I left my father's cot, List! list! It seem'd some friendly voice, 'Twas only fancy: none is near. How keenly bites the bitter blast, It penetrates thro' every pore, 'Tis too severe, it cannot lastSweet home! shall I ne'er see thee more. O help me father, mother dear, I'm seized all o'er I can't tell how; My head swims round, 'tis dark and drear, O save your poor Maria now. Then sinking down upon the ground Beneath a weeping willow-tree, Benumb'd and drowsy soon she found An end to all her misery. And ever and anon the wind, Sigh'd thro' the branches of the tree, Who marketh e'en a sparrow's fall, T. V. In her wanderings she called at the House of James Cash, of Woodend Farm, about four o'Clock, and informed Mrs. Cash that she had lost her way; was the daughter of John Rathbone, of Henbury, and wanted to go home. It appears prevented by her own mother, who said, let her go, thou that Mrs. Cash would have taken care of the child, but was hast children enongh of thy own.' Before she left the fartn yard she repeated her tale to two men who laughed at her; and she went away crying. From this house she went three taking shelter under a holly hedge; and at the close of the day, was seen again for the last time, in a lane near Plumbley or four miles further from home--was seen by several persons Moor, from whence she wandered to the place where she was found.-Macclesfield Courier, January, 1822. REPOSITORY OF GENIUS. TO THE EDITOR. SIR, The Solution of A. W. G.'s. Enigma in your The beginning of Eternity, Solution of the Question in our last. To square any number ending with 5.-To the square of 5 prefix the sum of the other figures and their square. Thus to square 45.-To 25 (the square of 5) prefix 4 added to 4 times 4 (or 20)The result is 2025. To square 75.-To 25 prefix 7x7+7=56, which makes 5625. To square 125. To 25 prefix 12 × 12+12=156=15625. This may be of considerable practical utility, as in every case where the number to be squared does not exceed 125 it may be done by inspection in shorter time than it can be described. Somewhat analogous to the above is the following property of certain numbers. Multiply together any two numbers whose difference is 2, and the product will be one less than the square of the intermediate number. Thus the square of 8 is 64, but 7 times 9 is only 63. The square of 45 is 2025, but 44 times 46 is 2024. The square of 400 is 160,000, but 401 x 399 is=159,999. ENIGMA. R. B. G. In storm and tempest I reside, A poetical reply is solicited by VERAX. Salford, Feb. 13th. VARIETIES. AGREEABLE READING. Mr. Hogg, in his Life, tells us this anecdote of a man of Eskdale-muir. He had borrowed Bailey's Dictionary from his neighbour, and on returning it, the lender asked him what he thought of it. I dinna ken, man,' replied be, I have read it all through, but canna say that I understand it; it is the most confused book that ever I saw in my life!' ANECDOTE. The late Rev. R. Imrie, of Auchterarder, in North Britain, exhibited through life a great fondness for paradoxical language. The consequence was, that much obscurity pervaded his pulpit exhibitions; and, through his pertinacity to particular modes of expression, which none of his hearers and few of his brethren understood, his sentiments were often believed to be the reverse of what they actually were; and he was first suspended, and afterwards deposed as an obstinate abettor of heterodoxy, while competent judges were of opinion, that the sole difference between him and his orthodox brethren, was in the language in which they severally chose to clothe their ideas. This predilection for paradoxical language existed from his childhood, of which the following is given as a specimen :- Observing a country clown riding into the town of Perth, he very gravely accosted him by saying, Man, your horse's tail is loose.' The poor credulous fellow immediately dismounted in order to ascertain what was the matter, as he apprehended that his horse must have sustained some injury of which he had not been aware. Finding, however, that all was as it ought to be, he was about to pronounce a severe philippic on the young urchin for diverting himself thus at his expense, when he was restrained by this comical answer; I said your horse's tail was loose, but it is loose only at one end.' Journal of Science. CANINE SAGACITY. [ORIGINAL.] The following anecdote I had from a friend to whom the proprietor of the dog is personally known, and who, though in humble circumstances, is a woman of honest principles and strict veracity. She lives in a cellar, containing two apartments; the anterior is a little shop, and the other the eating, as well as bed-room of the family. In the shop the dog's kennel is situated, and near it a cupboard, containing provisions, &c. One evening the cupboard was accidentally left open, and a quantity of black-puddings thereby exposed: this attracted the cat's attention, who was proceeding to make an attack upon them, but was repulsed by the dog, who signified his displeasure by growling, which was occasionally repeated, in spite of orders from the inner apartment to be quiet. At last the noise ceased, and in the morning the dog was found watching the puddings, which he had removed from the cupboard into the interior of his kennel, for their greater security from the furtive propensities of pussy, who was quietly seated at a little distance. On examining the puddings they were found uninjured, and were given to their trusty guardian, as a reward for his integrity. COLLECTOR. MR. EDITOR,-We, the undersigned, having often heard that a person would be lighter after dinner than before, and also having lately read an anecdote showing the truth of the story, were induced to try the experiment, and found it false, as each gained 2lbs. TEYLOS and LAPIS. Feb. 13th, 1822. MR. EDITOR,-Passing through the streets of Manchester, I observed a placard posted up, entitled A reply to the address to the labouring classes of Manchester and Salford, by the Rev. J. Scholfield, V. D. M.' and being ignorant of the titles meant to be conveyed by the letters V. D. M.' I shall feel particularly obliged by some one of your numerous readers giving an explanation through the medium of the Iris. ANTONINUS. CHARACTER OF Mr. BURKE. By the Rev. Robert Hall. are immense. THESE are the views which distinguished the political writings of Mr. Burke, an author whose splendid and unequalled powers gave a vogue and fashion to certain tenets, which from any other pen would have appeared abject and contemptible. In the field of reason the encounter would not be difficult, but who can withstand the fascination and magic of his eloquence? The excursions of his genius His imperial fancy has laid all nature under tribute, and has collected riches from every scene of the creation, and every walk of art. His eulogium on the Queen of France is a masterpiece of pathetic composition; so select are its images, so fraught with tenderness, so rich with colours, dipt in heaven,' that he who can read it without rapture may have merit as a reasoner, but must resign all pretensions to taste and sensibility. Burke's imagination is in truth only too prolific: a world of itself, where he dwells in the midst of chimerical alarms, is the dupe of his own enchantments, and starts, like Prospero, at the spectres of his own creation. His intel- . lectual views in general, however, are wide and variegated rather than distinct; and the light he has let in on the British Constitution in particular, resembles the coloured effulgence of a painted medium, a kind of mimic twilight, solemn and soothing to the senses, but better fitted for ornament than use. |