A LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC MISCELLANY. This Paper is Published Weekly, and may be had of the Booksellers in Manchester; of Agents in many of the principal Towns in the Kingdom; and of the News-carriers. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1822. THE mind of man is a theme which has long engaged, and must ever baffle, the speculations of philosophy. The attempts which have been made to define the boundaries of the human soul are many and unsuccessful: nor have its energies ever been fully developed. Upon this particular subject we must confess, as Socrates once did with reference to truth in general, that we are sure of nothing but our own ignorance.-Nihil se scire nisi id ipsum. It is a great deep unfathomed by the line of metaphysical profundity; a sea without a limit; an expanse which the penetrating eye of philosophy has in vain attempted to explore. Nor is it by its profundity alone, that we are deterred from the discovery of the nature and powers of the human mind. Its contradictions are not less discouraging. It often seems to be a compound of absurdities; a chaos where the elements jar in ceaseless confusion. Wisdom and folly, knowledge and ignorance, alternately predominate in the same individual: and the man who to-day astonishes by the greatness of his genius, to-morrow will excite our ridicule by the apparent want of common understanding. Grandeur of conception is often linked with meanness of expression, and boldness of design with weakness of execution. One faculty of the mind is healthy and vigorous, another is diseased and lifeless; whilst one part is paralyzed, the other is free from any symptoms of indisposition. A PRICE 3 d. rounded by thousands; abstracted from the busy with a celebrated scholar: when asked upon what Those who have ever seen the man will here recognize the character of Richard Roberts Jones. Yet this very man, whose garb and gesture would warrant the conclusion that he has broken loose from the confinement of a mad-house; who is so destitute of common sense as to be continually ridiculed, duped, and plundered by those around him; who is a perfect stranger to the blessings and comforts of civilized life; who lives in a state of filthiness not easily described; this very man whose aspect betrays, whose speech acknowledges nothing but the madman, is distinguished for the amazing grasp of his intellect, and for the perhaps unequalled, extent of his acquirements. He is master of fifteen languages;* and is daily adding to their number. Whether you would converse with him of Homer's Iliad or Calvin's Institutes; of Rabbinical legends or classical fables; of the writings of Moses or of Cicero, he is equally at home. Some of the classic authors of Greece and Rome are often concealed about his person; and he is seldom without his Hebrew Bible.-In short, this poor half-starved wretch, whose life has been one continued struggle against adversity, is scarcely to be equalled for the extent of his learning, by the most diligent and successful student, with all the advantages of a University education. If I am not mistaken-for the work is not at present before me-the author of his Memoirs,' favours the general opinion, that the mind of Jones has ever been in its present disordered state. For this conclusion there are not, I think, sufficient grounds. That such indeed may have been the case, cannot be denied; the powers of the human soul, even in its dilapidated state, being almost unknown to us. But an opinion more consistent with general experience, and therefore with sound philosophy, will be, that the mind so noble, so majestic, in ruins, was once a perfect model of strength and grandeur. He who cannot now discover the necessary and immediate connection between cause and effect; to whom proofs strong as holy writ' are unsatisfactory because unintelligible, has, probably, in his youthful days, possessed a mind in every respect most vigorous and comprehensive. The continued pressure of poverty, the ill usage he sustained in his youth,-with perhaps many other Should the reader wish for a more circumstan- causes, have conspired to render him the deploratial account of this extraordinary man, I must ble character he now appears. The lover who is refer him to a work entituled "Memoirs of driven to insanity through the violence of an illRichard Roberts Jones, of Aberdaron, &c. ;"-requited passion, never ceases to dwell upon the a work which will interest him no less by the elegance of its style, than by the strange adventures of the individual whose history it records. In the streets of Liverpool may occasionally be seen a man whose character gave rise to and will perhaps illustrate the foregoing observations. His appearance is grotesque and forbidding. His garments-taken from the stores of the oldclothes-man-are ill adapted to his shape. cumbrous coat hangs down to his heels; from the pocket holes of which an old volume or two may be seen peeping out, as if anxiously enquiring how to From several conversations had with Jones, escape from their confinement. A hat-often with- I am fully convinced, that his mind is now in a out a crown-scarcely serves to cover his huge state of insanity; that this (and not the whims misshapen head. His locks luxuriate upon his so commonly attendant upon men of genius) is shoulders, or flutter in the wind His counte- the cause of his grotesque appearance, and nance is forbidding: his eye (for he has but one) unusual habits; and, am inclined to believe, that is scarcely seen beneath the masses of hair which his mental faculties, when he first acquired a taste overhang and conceal his forehead. A pair of for literary pursuits, were in a sound state. The mustaches which curl into his mouth, and a first of my positions is easily proved. The disbeard of patriarchal growth complete the disgust-order of his mind must be evident to all who ing picture. His hands and face are buried under the accumulated filth of many a year, for he is a total stranger to the purifying effects of soap and water. have conversed with this literary phenomenon.- • These be informed me (and I have neither reason to doubt, nor power to prove, his veracity) were-Greek, Latin, Hebrew, French, Italian, Chaldean, Syriac, Persian, Ethiopic, (these two last he professes to have forgotten) Arabic, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, English, and Welsh. cause of his misfortune. The impression it has made is too deep to be erased-too vivid to be forgotten. Thus, it is probable, the mind of Jones was engrossed with the pursuits of literature, so as to become indifferent to all around it: and it is well known that this is, of itself, a sufficient cause of lunacy. The cord was so stretched that it lost its elasticity. The idea was so firmly rooted that it could never be removed, and this man now takes the same pleasure in acquiring the knowledge of languages, that other maniacs do in recurring to, and dwelling upon, the causes of their respective maladies. I cannot conclude better than by warning those engaged in literary pursuits by the example of Richard Roberts Jones, not to suffer their zeal to • What do you think of the divinity of Christ? was he not the son of God? Answer. It is a lie! Was not Paul a learned man ? Gamaliel was wiser.-His prejudice against the doctrines of the Christian religion arises from a belief that the Scriptures have been corrupted by the Jesuits! against whom he frequently expresses his indignation. outstrip their prudence. He who acquires the THE AUGUSTAN AGE IN ENGLAND. (See page 243.) It may, perhaps, be considered strange that we have yet made no mention of SIR WALTER SCOTT's poetry-but we do not think it likely to add much strength to our hypothesis. As a poet, indeed, we do not think that Sir Walter's name will be much known to posterity. The taste for his writings was one of those public manias, which rise with violent rapidity, and as rapidly decline. The rage for Master Betty began about the same time as that for quarto ballads,' and both have now equally passed away. Seriously, we always considered Sir Walter Scott's poems to be immeasurably overrated. We looked on them as interesting stories told in a lively and agreeable manner-but not as poetry. Great facility of verse-a peculiar skill in making use of names-much antiquarian knowledge plea-, santly worked into the composition-and, above all, perfect novelty-these appear to us to have caused the extraordinary success of the Lay of the Last Minstrel and its successors. But for the fire of poetic composition-for the rapidity and energy of impassioned writing-we should in vain look in any of them. The fancy for these works has now gone by-the novelty wore away, and their attraction ceased. Accordingly by the time his last poem appeared, Sir Walter Scott found that his hold over the public mind was lost, and he wisely ceased to publish. Who read Harold the Dauntless? We have said that we do not think Sir Walter's name will be much known hereafter as a poet. If, however, he be the Author of Waverley,' as he is so confidently said to be, his name will live, and that in the highest roll of literary fame. But of these works we shall speak when we come to our living prose writers. Neither do we think that our claim of pre-eminence for the present age will gain much from the Lake School. Mr. WORDSWORTH, a man of real poetical genius, and decidedly the first of this class-has lost the world for an hypothesis, and been content to lose it. His preface to the Lyrical Ballads, and the expectation of bringing poetry to conform to it, remind us of the building the city of Washington without there being any inhabitants to people it. Mr. Wordsworth, accordingly, has kept toiling all his life to support his hypothesis, and has consequently produced no poetry which any but himself and his confraternity can read. Our limits do not permit us to make quotations, and we have for that reason abstained from doing it throughout this paper-otherwise we could produce an infinity of passages which any person of sound intellect, untinged with the idiotcy of Lakism, would pronounce to be downright drivelling and (second) childishness. We have known some of Mr. W.'s own poetry decried as an absurd and nonsensical imitation of him. Did any body ever read the White Doe of Rylstone? Some doubtless have attempted it; and let those unhappy persons call to mind the poetry -poetry!—which they there met with. Can they believe it possible, that the author of that tissue of infantine absurdity has been reckoned by some the first poet of his age-the nearest of all writers ¡ to Milton? He may be so on the principle of there possesses considerable poetical beauty. But it has all Mr. Southey's usual faults-irrepressible verbosity, extreme and tedious length, and a heaviness over the whole, which makes it quite a task to wade through it, even for the beauties with which you are repaid. If Mr. Southey had never written any thing but this and Kehama, his name would have stood deservedly high; as it is, these works of real merit are overlooked among the multitudinous absurdities of the laureate odes, and the leadenness of the departed epics. As a Mr. COLERIDGE is more a metaphysican than prose writer, Mr. Southey is correct and commona poet, and in neither capacity very pre-eminent. place; he has little melody in his verses, and still Metaphysics are necessarily difficult of expression, less in his prose style. He is somewhat unfortubut they need not be totally unintelligible. Locke, nate, too, in his choice of subjects. Who does Reid, and Stewart do not, like him, leave here he think is to read through three gigantic quartos and there a lacune in their chain of reasoning, on the Brazils? We are free to admit, however, from a chapter or an essay being withheld as in- that the Life of Nelson is a valuable work. But comprehensible. But it is a false metaphor to what adds greatly to Mr. Southey's defects is that talk of the chain of Mr. Coleridge's reasoning outrageous egotism to which we have alluded. it it be a chain, it is a jack chain, which always That sort of thing will scarcely pass, even from revolves into itself-and is enveloped in smoke persons of the most transcendent genius; and we and obscurity. As a poet, Mr. Coleridge is au- can assure Mr. Southey that he is, by no means, thor of Christabel; and that piece of miserable of a class which authorizes these impertinences. absurdity would be sufficient to sink any poet This is a hard word; but what else can we call into derision and contempt, even if he had Para- the never-failing "Envoy," which is always ap dise Lost or Childe Harold to oppose it-a mid-pended to his books in some shape or other, and dling tragedy, and a lyrical ballad or two will tells us that he is the first of all poets, dead or scarcely do to weigh against it. alive, and that his works cannot fail to go down to the latest posterity? We shall conclude our remarks on Mr. Southey by the following admirable description of him, which we met with in a pamphlet which lately fell under our hand"; "It is quite evident that he thinks himself Milton, and Thucydides, and Clarendon, and Dryden, and Jeffrey, and Plato, and Tom Moore, and Burke-all in one.” | Letter to Lord Byron from John Bull. The pamphlet possesses generally but little merit. THE ROCKY LABYRINTH OF ADERSBACH, Mr. SOUTHEY is the other great name of the Lake school; and as if to shew that the bathos is totally bottomless, and that even Christabel can be outdone, he, last year, gave us the Vision of Judgment. We scarcely ever remember to have seen a piece of more contemptible impertinence, than this soi-disant poem. The Lakers in general, and Mr. Southey in particular, are notorious for the most disgusting system of self-praise; and the Vision of Judgment displays it in a very eminent degree. In the first place, it tells us half a dozen of times that Mr. Southey is the inventor of English hexameters: we beg to assure him that he is no such thing;-not that we regard it as a thing to be vain of, for we look upon them The village of Adersbach, in Bohemia, situated as mere pedantry;-but Mr. Southey is vain of in a valley, at the foot of the Giant Mountains, it-and, as is usual, his vanity has no sort of at the extreme confines of Silesia, is celebrated foundation. Next, according to his custom, he for the extraordinary groups of rock which rise claims a monopoly of all virtue, genius, and wis- in its environs, and extend, though with frequent dom, for himself and the few friends to whom he interruptions, as far as Heuscheuer. The village distributes a small share of them respectively: all borders on a most beautiful mead, watered by a those who have, in any way, incurred his displea- small rivulet, which has its source in the midst of sure are sent to pass an eternal moment or so this rocky labyrinth. It is bounded on the south in hell." while the friends aforesaid, and-risum by large masses of rock which stand upright, teneatis-Mr. Southey himself are born to regions contiguous to each other, and separated only by of eternal bliss! And this mummery, clothed in crevices of different widths. The greater number the fantastic frippery of English hexameters, is of them are one hundred feet high or upwards, seriously put forth in the nineteenth century by a and present forms which are singularly diversified. poet laureate, who affects to revive the lost digni- Some of them resemble works of art, as columns, ty of the office! Why, Eusden and Cibber would walls, towers; some are bounded at the top by have been ashamed of this. Of Mr. Southey's irregular curve lines, though their sides are as epics it is scarcely fair to speak; they are so long perpendicular as if they had been cut by a level. since dead and gone, that even the remembrance Others are bent in all directions, and their craggy of them is almost faded. "Where's Nicholas summits, which hang in the air, threaten to desVedder?" said Rip Van Winkle. "Oh! he's cend every moment from their perilous abode. dead and gone these eighteen years," answered a Some of them stand upon an immense base, and little old man, with a thin piping voice; "there diminish as they rise, while others retain the same used to be a wooden tomb-stone in the church-yard uniform dimensions from their bases to their sumthat told all about him; but that's rotted, and mits. The bases of many of them are rounded gone too." Thus has it fared with Mr. Southey's by the action of the waters. The most remarkaepics-Joan of Arc, Madoc, and even Thalabable of these rocks is that commonly called the have long disappeared from the world, save in the inverted sugar loaf, an appellation which suffivicinity of Grasmere-where, we are credibly in- ciently designates its singular form; and many formed, the worthy laureate keeps all his ponder- isolated pillars which, though only a few feet in ous manuscripts, handsomely bound, for his own diameter at the base, elevate themselves and their private edification. These works have passed compeers, like a range of chimnies. through the gulf of oblivion, and even their wake has closed behind them. We admit that Roderick is a superior poem to all these that it has many passages of solemnity and grandeur, and here and The moment we enter this labyrinth, we perceive on all sides groups of rock, which surprize us the more, because we are not in a situation to examine their height and extent, They encircle a beautiful mead, which may be considered the vestibule of the labyrinth. An old honest forester generally serves as guide to those, whose curiosity leads them to explore this romantic labyrinth. They follow a path which is covered, in many places, with sand and rubbish formed from fragments of the rock. This path, which is sometimes twenty feet wide, and sometimes not more than two, continues its course through innumerable windings between the perpendicular groups, and those masses which, like walls, enclose them on the right and left. A person is frequently obliged to crawl across the intervals, above which the rocks lean one against the other. The imagination of the old conductor has discovered in the most irregular masses resemblances to a palace, a church, a monastery, a pulpit, and an infinity of other objects. By this happy discovery, he hopes to render them more worthy the observation of the curious. In this labyrinth, a person is obliged to go continually zigzag, one time he walks on the naked sand, at another on the moss and flowery turf: at one time he passes under low saplings, at another, he pursues the course of little rivulets, whose smooth and limpid waters follow the multiplied sinuosities of their course. These little streams are, in many places, provided with little bridges, or crossed by planks, for the convenience of those who explore this little mysterious world. After journeying about a league and a half, the traveller arrives at a place, extremely cool and agreeable, ornamented with saplings, hung with all sorts of mosses and plants, and closed up, on all sides, by tremendous rocks. The loud murmuring of a rivulet, which precipitates from a sort of basin, adds an inexpressible charm to the delights of this solitude, Underneath two lofty saplings, near a fountain as cool aud transparent as imagination can conceive, stands a table, a bench, and some seats formed out of the rock. This place is frequently rendered the scene of festive happiness, and is frequently greeted by morning visitants who come to breakfast there. The repast is rendered delicious by the agreeable coolness of the place, which invigorates the animal faculties in a surprising manner. Frun this resting-place there is an ascent by a narrow opening. The way is difficult, as it leads over heaps of sand, produced by the wrecks continually falling from the rocks, and which are as friable as the ashes near the crater of a volcano, for at every step the traveller loses his feet, and sinks in the uncertain sand. But when he arrives at the top, he is more than recompensed by the sight of a cascade which precipitates from the summit of the rocks. The water falls, in its first descent, from a height of twenty feet, on a rock which impedes its perpendicular course, glides afterwards down a gentle descent, and completes its course by flinging itself into the lower basin. Near this stream the rocks have formed a dark and lofty vault, which presents a most majestic and terrible aspect. It is a work of many days to traverse all the different paths which cross this labyrinth, but next to the natural beauties which we have already described, is an ancient castle in ruins, situated in the midst of those masses of rock, and which, in all probability, served as an asylum for robbers. The guide, before he takes leave of his company, generally fires a pistol near the narrow opening by which it is entered. The sound, which reverberated and encreased by the distant echoes, resembles the rumbling sound of thunder. The learned are generally agreed as to the origin of the singular forms of these rocks. They imagine that the whole space which they cover was formerly a mountain of sand, and that a vio lent irruption of water, forcing a passage through the parts which were less compact, carried them away, and left, consequently, deep spaces between the solid masses. Such is the general opinion, but it is still doubtful whether the effect has proceeded from a sudden irruption, and whether it may not be more naturally traced to that slow but unremitting action of nature, which metamorphoses every thing after a certain lapse of time, though its immediate agency excites no attention. The old ship lately discovered in the bed of the river Rother, has now been completely dug out and put in motion for London, there to be exhibited. It is supposed to be a Dutch or Danish vessel wrecked in the great teinits present channel. The utensils found in it, and its own pest of 1286, which diverted the river from its ancient to build, certainly do not sanction a more remote antiquity. ELOQUENT PLEADER. The mountain known by the name of Heuscheuer, or Heuschaar, forming the southern extremity of this chain, is in Silesia, in the county of Glatz, about two miles and a half north-east of the town of this name, and a mile and a half Metastasio having a lawsuit in his hands for part of to the north of the little town of Reinerz. In the possessions bequeathed to him in Naples by his early approaching the mountain in this direction, a most patron Gravina, applied to the princess Belmonte, for delightful meadow opens at its feet. It is difficult her interest with the judge; a practice by no means unto reach it on this side, though considerable efforts frequent in that country. She told him, if he would were made in 1763, to facilitate the access. The first make her mistress of the subject, by pleading his traveller passes constantly over ledges of rocks own cause himself, all' improvista, and convince her that which are detached and laid one over another, injustice was on his side, she would use her utmost influall directions. Some of them are ence in his favour. He at first excused himself, on acas large as houses, others equal churches in magniconnt of want of practice in a profession which he had tude, nor can imagination give its creations a greater diversity of form than these rocks present. The greater part of the rocks are naked, but at a considerable height we meet a space which has been called the garden, and which contains trees and plants of various kinds. The rocks lift themselves all around, piled one over another. On the summit of Tafelstein, which is one of the most elevated, there is a most interesting and romantic prospect. discontinued for many years. The princess insisted on her wish, as the only condition on which she would interest herself in the business; he at length began, and pleaded his cause in a song, with such lively and insinuating expressions, that he soon drew tears from his patroness. While he was in the act of incantation, other visitors came in, who became equally affected by the magic of his eloquence, The next day the Princess Belmonte applied to the jude, related not only the merits of the cause, but the MONTESQUIEU AND CHESTERFIELD. extraordinary talent of her client, entreating him to be The rock on which it is fixed, is cut perpen-astasio was desired to repeat his pleadings to a new audipresent at a similar exhibition. A day being fixed, Metdicular, like a wall at a depth of many hundred feet, and extends through various windings along without repeating a single verse of what he had sung ence, in the palace of the princess; he consented, and the frontiers of Bohemia. A balustrade has been before, such were the elegance and touching enthusiasm erected there, in consequence of its being ho- of his numbers, as left not a dry tear in the room. The noured with a visit by the Prince of Prussia. This cause was soon afterwards determined in his favour. balustrade leads to the very extremity of the rock, where the spectator may contemplate with security the delightful prospect which opens before him, in all directions. Under his feet he beholds the mountains extending south and west, and presenting summits which are sometimes rounded, and sometimes terminated in a point. The extensive prospect carries the eye of the spectator over the distant Branau, Nachod, and a great number of other places in Bohemia, immortalized by the annals of the thirty, and of the seven years' war. The traveller has some difficulty however, in believing that he has Bohemia actually before him, for at this immense height, the mountains, which separate the towns, castles, villages, and convents, disappear from the sight, so that he imagines he perceives nothing but a level and extensive plain. VARIETIES. DEEP STUDY. Budæus, one of the most learned men of the sixteenth century, and the librarian to Francis the First of France, was engaged in deep study in his library, when his servant came running to him in a great fright, to tell him that the house was on fire. 66 Go," said he, with perfect calmness, and hardly raising his eyes from his book, "and inform your mistress; 'tis her concern, you know I never interfere in domestic matters." LITTLETON'S DICTIONARY. When Littleton was compiling his Latin Dictionary, he employed an amanuensis. One day he announced the word concurro to the ready scribe, who thinking he could translate it himself, said, "Concur, I suppose;" to which the Doctor peevishly replied, "Con-cur! con-dog!" When Montesquieu was travelling in Italy, he met Lord Chesterfield, with whom he was very intimate. They agreed to pursue their route together. When arrived at Venice, Montesquieu, curious and active, was accustomed to rise early, and to sally forth, to examine every thing worthy of notice, whether relating to public edifices, the government of the country, or the customs of its inhabitants. On his return home, he used to write down the most minute details of all he had seen or heard, He had one morning nearly completed his remarks, when and be daily read his observations to Lord Chesterfield. a stranger requested to speak to him in secret. When introduced, the unknown spoke much of his attachment to the French nation, which attachment was, indeed, the cause of his mysterious visit. He came, he said, to warn M. Montesquieu, that the Inquisition had for some time been alarmed by his researches; and that they had at length' determined to send and seize his papers, in which, should there be any remarks on government, the consequences might be fatal to him. Montesquieu, intimidated by this intelligence, was profuse in his acknowledgments to the friendly stranger, whom he dismissed with a handsome present; and having first committed his apartment, to relate to him his misfortune. Lord Chesprecious papers to the flames, he hastened to his friend's terfield, having heard the tale, in the most phlegmatic manner answered, "You have acted, no doubt, with much wit. But had you had but a little good sense in considering the business, you would have seen how improbable it was, that a stranger should take so great an interest in your affairs, as to have, at the risk of his own life, or at least of his liberty, revealed to you the secrets of the state. And, besides, you would have seen how very unlikely it was, that a man in a low situation of life should be acquainted with the measures of the Inquisition; a tribunal, the secrets of which, M Montesquieu had himself in his journal said, were impenetrable." Lord Chesterfield then confessed that he had sent the man himself. POETRY. MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. Thou great first cause! thou everlasting God! Dims the bright lustre of the smiling day, Extend thy piercing, bat forgiving eye; Listen, great master, to a suppliant's cry, Oh! dry the tear, accept the heartfelt sigh. In time of need, oh God! stretch forth thy hand, A kind protector through life's varied scene; Teach me to bow at thy divine command, In ev'ry action, let thy work be seen; I ask not, Lord, for greatness, wealth or power! The silv'ry stream, that gently glides along, And when at length, great Father, 'tis thy will That I should mingle with the throng no more, When thou shalt here tife's little chalice fill, And Death shall tell me nature's scene is o'er, Oh! grant these eyes be closed by one I love, The last dear office, ere we meet above. August 28th, 1822. SONG. I saw that eye when it was bright H. B. P. I saw that smile when it was warm The vigils of worn hearts are mine: I seek not, ask not, for relief, But bending low at Memory's shrine I pour a gush of living grief. STANZAS. Oh, come to me! my heart is sick With fear, and sorrow, and remorse; The pulse of thought beats fierce and quick, And o'er my brain dark fancies course, "Oh, come to me, my unseen love! Dear shadow, soothe me into rest! Like a sweet breeze from Heaven above, Descend, and wander o'er my breast! Divinity in stone! yet glowing A sign, we cannot see, but feel! Thoughts the young spirit would respire ; Yet, passionless themselves, they wake In us that feeling's tender strife, Of which the sister Graces make A busy, brilliant span of life! When erring Woman doom'd our fall! And left his Heaven to live with her. SCRAPIANA. No. VII. From the common-place book of a Lancashire Clergyman who flourished upwards of a century ago. (RESUMED FROM PAGE 189.) Gramarians can decline other nouns in all cases, God is the cause of nothing but what he loveth. Gospel institutions own one holy day, no holy place, two holy Sacraments, four holy Cannons (1) let all things be done in charity (2) in order (3) to edifying (4) to ye glory of God. God keep us from our friends, and we will do what we can to keep ourselves from our enemys. Ital. Prov. Grindal endowed a school at St. Bees in Cum berland. Gratia non est gratia ullo modo, si non gratuita omni modo. Gratia gratiam postulat. Growth of grace like ye growth of plants, which we perceive rather crevisse quam crescere. Germanicus reigned in ye Romans' Hearts, Tiberius only in their Provinces. Gratior est Pulchro veniens de corpore Virtus. Gentiles say God gave man but one tongue, yet two ears, that he might hear more and speak less. Good Noah found an Ark, but Lott found none; Į We are safer in God's hands than in our own. Gold may be bought too dear. Grace is special bail against death. Golden images there will be where there are wooden Priests. Galea, a shield for ye head; Lorica, for ye breast. Golden sentences always measured-suavitybrevity. Good design can never justify a bad action. Grave must be contrived before ye House be builded-A Law among the Thebans. Great letters in a word have no more signification than Lesser-apply'd to great men. Gentleman 3 fold (1) Native (2) Dative (3) Prative. Gentleman jagger-of Gotham, Grantham, Guido. God makes-Apparel shapes. Grows like a cow-tail; downward. Tann: Whalley. Greatest clerks not always the wisest men. Get death into your minds, and it will put life An Anecdote is told upon good authority of Ainsworth the celebrated con piler of the Latin Dictionary, similar to that which we related last week of Dr. Cooper, afterwards Bishop of Lincoln. When Mr. Ainsworth was engaged in bis laborious work, his wife made heavy complaints at enjoying so little of his society. When he bad reached the letter S of his Dictionary, the patience of his female friend was completely exhausted; and in a fit of ill-nature, she revenged herself for the loss of his company, by committing the whole manuscript to the flames. Such an accident would have deterred most men from prosecuting the undertaking; but the persevering industry of Ainsworth repaired the loss of his manuscript, by the most assiduous application. THE CLUB. No. XVI.-FRIDAY, AUGUST 30, 1822. "Oh! born to soothe distress, and lighten care; IT has for some years been the custom of our President to spend some time every Saturday morning in visiting the markets. It must be confessed the old gentleman values himself not a little on his skill in marketing; and, in particular, on the accuracy of his taste in the choice of fruit, vegetables, and fresh butter. Happening to meet him, last Saturday, in front of the Exchange, just as he and his fair daughter were proceeding to Smithy-door; and having no particular engagement, I was glad to offer the young lady the assistance of my arm while she attended her father in his purchases. As we advanced through the crowd, our friend was recognised by several well-dressed females, who pressed towards him, and made the usual enquiries with a mixture of respect and affection, and with a gracefulness of manner, which is never seen but in the deportment of well-educated women. These ladies were either such as had been formerly under his care, or the mothers and relations of his present pupils. I could observe a conscious satisfaction in the countenance of the old gentleman, as he replied, with a grave politeness, to the enquiries of his fair friends; while on their part, it was evident, that his apparent good health, heightened the pleasure which they felt in seeing him. I remarked that the country people were very desirous to obtain our friend's custom, as it was generally followed by purchases on the part of some of his acquaintance. A very clean, elderly woman produced some eggs from a corner of her basket, which she assured him were all new laid, and had been kept on purpose for him. Another exhibited at his approach a quantity of fine Orleans plums, which she begged him to taste; while a ruddy looking man plucked him by the elbow, and whispered that he had some beautiful cucumbers that were very much at his service. The old gentleman received all these attentions like a man who was accustomed to them, and considered them as his due. He preserved throughout the usual gravity of his manner; and, even in making his bargains, had a certain stateliness, which as it was entirely devoid of any thing like ill-humour or sourness, had, I could perceive, no other effect than to raise him in the opinion of those with whom he dealt." I amused myself for some time by observing these little incidents, which were interspersed with occasional remarks addressed by the President to his daughter on the subject of marketing, to which that young lady listened with her characteristic sweetness. But there was another source of most agreeable observation which presented itself to me as we mingled with the busy crowd. I could not but notice the great number of genteel females many of them young, and in the full glow of health and beauty, who were making their purchases in the market, and who appeared to attend to this part of their duty with the most lively interest. beheld with a secret respect the care with which they examined the different articles, and the pru I dence with which many of them appeared to expend their money. As they glided past me in the midst of fruits and flowers, there were not a few who, by their loveliness, and the nature of their occupation, re-called to my memory the description which our great epic poet as given us of Eve, when he represents her as preparing, in Eden, for the reception of the angel Raphael. -“ with dispatchful looks in haste In imagination I followed these interesting females When I visit the old gentleman, I am always peculiarly pleased with the arrangement of his table. Not that his entertainments are ever costly. Indeed all the members of the Club are men of frugal habits, and the President is, in this respect, looked up to amongst us as an example. But his frugality is not meanness, and is, in effect, only the art of abounding in all necessary things, by avoiding such as are at once superfluous and expensive. Rarities never appear at his board, but there is always plenty, and his viands are chosen with such care, and dressed with so much skill, that even epicures must confess themselves well treated. There is, at the same time, such an unaffected welcome in the countenance and behaviour of his excellent wife, so much attention to the wants and wishes of all around her, so much politeness, and so little bustle, that a guest is almost instantly at his ease, and feels a secret exhilaration from the unfeigned cheerfulness with which he is received. It is not only in her domestic management, and by her correct deportment, that the wife of our friend is distinguished. She is exemplary in all the duties of a wife and a mother. The friend and comforter of her husband, under all the varying incidents of life. In health the companion of his pleasures; in sickness his tender, skilful, and unwearied attendant. The education of his children, until they are of an age sufficient to enable them to appear in his school, has always devolved upon her, and I have no where seen a numerous family so little troublesome to strangers, or so much a source of delight to their parents. There is, in the conduct of this lady to her children, a rare union of mildness and firmness; nor does she, even when most severe, ever lose the appearance of affection. Her eldest daughter, the young lady of whom I have spoken in the commencement of this paper, is, in every thing but age, the counterpart of her mother. She is accomplished without being vain, and has received from her father an excellent education, without having in the least neglected domestic acquirements. Her affection for her parents is singularly great, and discovers itself by a thousand little attentions, in which she is imitated by the younger branches of the family. She is generally considered handsome, but it is rather that beauty which results from gracefulness of motion, and from the expression of an amiable mind, than any thing peculiarly striking in her features, which attracts the beholder. The President is never seen to so much ad It is vantage as when surrounded by his family. At such times he unbends with a sort of tender dignity, and forgets the gravity of his profession while indulging the feelings of a parent. not wonderful that, with the possession of so much domestic happiness, he should be a great advocate for marriage. He frequently expatiates on the subject in our meetings at the Green Dragon; and never speaks of a man who has grown old in a state of celibacy, but with a kind of pity not unmingled with contempt. His opinions on this subject have had a great effect upon the Club, and (with the exception of the Widower) there is not one of us who has not, in some measure, imbibed the same sentiments. CORRESPONDENCE. TO THe editor, R. H. Iris, is an Anecdote of King James, which is very much SIR,-Among the "Varieties" in last Saturday's calculated to mislead, and, indeed, as it is there told, discovers its own inconsistency. In the book referred to, not the Church of England but the Presbyterian Church of Scotland is defended. It is well known that James. wished to establish Episcopacy, in his Scottish as well as English dominions, and what occasioned his uneasiness was the conviction forced on his mind, that the mode of Church Polity defended by Calderwood was preferable to his favourite scheme, at the same time that he was determined, if possible, to carry it into effect. The following will be found a correct statement of facts. Calderwood's Altare Damascenum, published in 1623, was intended as a refutation of Linwood's "Description of the Policy of the Church of England." It treats, however, not only of the particular subject brought under discussion by that work, but also of the general questions at issue, between Presbyterians, and Episcopalians, and endeavours, by the help of much learning, and many arguments, to demonstrate, that the system of the former rests on a foundation, to which that of the latter has no just pretensions. It attracted great notice when it appeared; and while it gave high satisfaction to those whose opinions it supported, it gave equal uneasiness, and displeasure to those on the opposite side of the controversy, though all united in acknowledging its erudition and ability. King James himself read it, and at once admired it for its lore, and disliked it for its success. A prelate observing him somewhat pensive and surly after perusing it, besought his majesty not to trouble himself, for it would be answered; but the King passionately replied "What the Devil : will you answer, man? There is nothing here but scripture, reason, and the fathers " INDEX. Dionysius, the tyrant, having been informed that a very aged woman prayed to the gods every day for his preservation, and wondering that any of his subjects should be so interested for bis safety, inquired of this woman respecting the motives of her conduct, to which she replied, "In my infancy I lived under an abominable prince, whose death I desired; but when he perished, he was succeeded by a detestable tyrant worse than himself. I. offered up my vows for his death also, which were in like manner answered; but we have since had a worse tyrant than he This execrable monster is yourself, whose life I have prayed for, lest, if it be possible, you should be succeeded by one even more wicked." |