The following legend is offered to our readers, not only on the score of its intrinsic merit, but as being the undoubted source from which Geoffrey Crayon drew his kip Van Winkle.

This story of The Goatherd is to be found in Büsching's Popular Tales, page 327, where it is followed by a second legend on the same subject; both have reference to the celebrated Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, who, in fact, is the subject of many a winter's tale amongst the Germans, but all springing from one and the same source. According to this primal story, the Emperor once took refuge, with a party of his followers, in the Kyffhäusen mountains, where he still lives, though under the influence of magic. Here he sits, with his friends, on a bench before a stone table, supporting his head on his hands, and in a His red beard has grown state of apparent slumber. through the table down to his feet, while his head nods and his eyes twinkle, as if he slept uneasily or At times this slumber is interwere about to wake. rupted, but his naps are, for the most part, tolerably long, something about a hundred years' duration. In his waking moments, be is supposed to be fond of music, and amongst the numerous tales to which his musicians, who thought proper to treat him with a magic state has given rise, there is one of a party of regular concert in his subterranean abode. Each was rewarded with a green bough, a mode of payment so offensive to their expectations, that upon their return to earth, all flung away his gifts, save one, and he kept the bough only as a memorial of the adventure, without the least suspicion of its value; great, however, was his surprise, when, upon showing it to his But even the first tale of the Emperor's prolonged wife, every leaf was changed into a golden dollar. slumber can hardly be deemed original; and perhaps, to speak it fairly, is nothing more than a popular version of The Seven Sleepers, not a little disfigured by tine and the peculiar superstitions of the country. It is, indeed, surprising how small a stock of original matter has sufficed for all the varieties of European legend; the sources are remarkably few to him who has sufficient knowledge of the subject to follow up the various streams to their fountain head; and it is a task which, if ably executed, might prove both curious and instructive.

PETER KLAUS was a Goatherd of Sittendorf, and

tended his flocks in the Kyffhäusen mount ins; here
he was accustomed to let them rest every evening in
a mead surrounded by an old wa, while he made his
muster of them; but for some days he had remarked
that one of his finest goats always disappeared some
flock till late watching her more attentively, he ob-
served that she slipped through an opening in the wall,
time after coming to this spot, and did not join the
upon which he crept after the animal, and found her
in a sort of cave, busily employed in gleaning the oat-
grains that dropped down singly from the roof.
that now fell down upon him, but with all his enquiry
could discover nothing. At last he heard above, the
looked up, shook his ears amidst the shower of corn
stamp and neighing of horses, from whose mangers it
was probable the oats had fallen.

SIR,-The inscription of Mr. Jeremy Antiq. in of the Danes, as we find Alfred the Great captured appears in many Scientific works of the first celebrity,

circumstance, to make particular enquiry respecting
them, and am informed, that the said Church never
had more than one bell. I imagine the welcome peal The lines To a gossipping Apothecary,' will be thought per-
would be rung, if ever rung, when his army arrived
here; now it is a curious circumstance, that at the
time when the first division of the rebel army came
to Manchester, they marched into the Square, and the
said bell was tolling a mournful peal for the soul of the
Rev. Joseph Hoole, who died November 27th, 1745,
several of the officers came to the grave side, took off
their bonnets, and behaved with the greatest attention

FOR THE IRIS.

ON THE FATE OF GENIUS.

Calliope longum cœlebs car vixit in ævum?
Nempe nihil dotis, quod numeraret erat.'
'Why did Calliope live so long a maid ?
Because she had no dowry to be paid.'

SATURDAY, MARCH 16, 1822.

WHEN we take a view of former times, and turn over the pages of history, recounting their progress, how often do we find cause to regret the clouds which have hung over, and burst with almost unceasing rigour upon the sons of literature. If the research be continued to the present period, our grief is heightened,-not, perhaps, that the lives of ancient literary characters have been less subject to misfortune than those of modern days,-but that our accounts of the latter are more correct and particular than of the former. Were it possible that the records of time could be fully revealed to us, we should, doubtless, find the distress of genius very little, if any thing, different.

WEEKLY.

PRICE 3 d.

I am aware that as there are exceptions to every rule, so are there to the subject on which I have been treating. There have been authors whose lives and works have been equally propitious, and which latter, will be esteemed by the latest posterity.

appeared with brilliancy, then quickly vanished and | ductions methinks I am conning red letters instead
are now forgotten. If they could at the outset intro- of black ones,-such a stain do I fancy they bear,
duce themselves to the notice of some potentate or
on them.
statesman, they immediately became the oracles of
their age, and their efforts were cried up, not because
of the judgement, beauty or sentiment displayed
therein, but because of the patronage gained, the
stratagems of intrigue, the prejudice of faction, or the
servility of adulation. If the great man said that
such effusions possessed merit, they soon attained
perfection, and were dispersed by his flatterers and
dependants, whose interest it was to repeat their
master's opinion, not regarding truth so much as a
show of reverence towards his affectedly pre-eminent
wisdom. The popularity of these works is common-
ly limited to their author's lives and not unfrequently
to a shorter date, when they experience a total neg-
lect.

Those authors, however, whose labours now, and
will hereafter, shine with increasing lustre,-

Whose mortal being only can decay;
"Whose nobler parts, whose fame shall reach the skies,
And to late times with blooming honours rise;"
have been suffered to be

Of authors it has been justly observed, that they
had the whole world to contend with, and were des-
titute of any to plead in their favour. Though pos-
sessed of all the learning possible, they must have
kept it to themselves, have lived in bare esteem,
and famished, instead of being rewarded for the
pains they bestowed in endeavouring to enlighten
their illiterate contemporaries. Learning was scorn-
ed by the wealthy, and the warrior despised it as
being beneath him, and incompatible with his pro-ed, and the fire of their genius extinguished.
fession. In the feudal æra they seemed to have had
a sort of contention amongst themselves who should do
most injury to literature, and to have striven to com-

-blown with restless violence round about
The pendant world,'

and to pine away in obscurity, when probably a soli-
tary dollar might have purchased for them wherewith
to have satisfied nature. How many have taken a
distinguished part on the theatre of life, who with all
the talents fitted to guide or to instruct mankind, have
from some secret misfortune, had their minds depress-

What a difference though, in the condition of authors, do we notice in these times. The publishers of Lalla Rookh' gave three thousand guineas for the copyright of that poem, which, with all its beauties, and they are numerous, is certainly not worth one single book of Milton's Paradise Lost.' The great Scottish novelist, as it is reported, netted nearly £100,000 by his works. Nor is this liberality confined to any particular branch of literature; a successful tragedy, for which, in the days of Tonson, fifty pounds was thought a sufficient remuneration, will now produce the author from six to seven hundred pounds.

So little are literary men in our day in danger of starving, that, if to true talent they add an ordinary portion of prudence and industry,' and they can raise themselves above the often too severe lash of the critic, there is scarcely any class of men that has less to fear from the caprices of fortune. The announcement of a work from the pen of at least a dozen of our living authors, excites nearly as much interest as the news of a great battle; and for every poem of a few hundred stanzas, London or Edinburgh sends back what the lottery agents call a golden shower, to refresh, with all the luxuries of life, the retirement of a Scott, a Campbell, a Moore, or a Crabbe; or, peradventure, to furnish the noble minstrel with a large letter of credit on some Greek or Italian banker. 'How small to others but how great to me,' But for this happy revolution in the republic of letters, the literati of the present age are in a great measure patrimony. Yet the laurel has always been account-growth of taste, like the progress of liberal opinions, were proverbial, as also that poverty was the muse's indebted to those who have gone before them. The with which it is inseparably connected, is uniformly, slow and gradual; and had not the Paradise Lost' sold for the paltry sum of ten or twenty pounds, and the Task' and some other works presented as a gift to the publishers, Lalla Rookh,' The Lady of the Lake, or even a single canto of Childe Harold,' never could have been purchased at the extraordinary price of three thonsand guineas.

The poet and his garret,

it so much so that he waved the crown, which his two
and twenty shilling pieces bore for the impression of
a laurel on his twenty shilling ones. This did not
escape the notice of the wits of his time.
A wag
passed the following jest thereon; that poets, being
ever poor, bays were rather the emblem of wit than
wealth, and this appeared more plainly, since king
James no sooner began to wear them, than he fell two

pletely exterminate it. When the Goths overwhelm-
ed different parts of the learned world, they destroyed honourable. Our pedant king, James I, esteemed
ed all the literary stores they met with. We are
told of one, who, when his countrymen came into
Greece, and would have burnt all their books, ex-
claimed against it, by all means' said he, 'leave
them that plague, which, in time, will consume all
their vigour, and martial spirit;' and in the dark and
obscare of our own country, no person durst in-
age
troduce improvements in any art, or science, lest he
should be persecuted, or accused of being a sorcerer.
As light began to dawn, the schoolmen likewise, fan-
cying themselves pre-eminent in knowledge, allowed
no work to possess merit, unless constituted of the
same dogmas and intricacies as their own. When
Aristotle was beyond their comprehension they decried
his philosophy, and what they were conscious they
had not ability to understand, they pretended to being the utmost praise, frequently do I picture to
no longer worth studying.

'A second delage learning thus o'er-ran, And the Monks finished, what the Goths began.' We read of authors indeed, upon whom, whilst living, fortune smiled; and who were courted and caressed by an obsequious multitude. But, as of such their works were works of a day;-like a meteor they

shillings in the pound in public estimation.' It is
related that pope Urban VIII, founded an hospital
for decayed authors, and called it the retreat for in-
curables; intimating that it was equally impossible to
reclaim the patients from poverty or from poetry.
nished with productions of intrinsic value and deserv-
As I enter into a library, and look at its walls fur-

myself the countenances of their authors. Some
would be covered with rays, whilst a death's head
would be concealed underneath, grinning at the prize
it was about to make;-some would be debilitated
with disease, or groaning under the frowns of book-
sellers, and others would be confined in prison, or be
in a state of starvation. Whilst reading these pro-

'Genius, in fact, must precede taste; and, conse quently, the early writers, who dealt in a commodity of which not one man in ten thousand understood the value, were sure to find themselves in the predicament of those who let down buckets into empty wells, and spent their days in drawing no water. But this evil despite of poverty and privation, the natural bent of has at last worked its own cure. By indulging, in their minds, men of genius have at length enlarged the circle of readers; and having created a demand for the beauties of literature, have placed it within the reach of their successors to amass fortunes by their skill and address in supplying it. In a word the fathers of literature in a country may be compared

I have heard it sold for £5 only.

dom aimed at as an ornament by the erudite scholar,
who rests satisfied with his store of learning, though
for want of this accomplishment, they lie unheeded or
unknown. Some are prone to think, that, if they can
string together a few common-place expressions,
though, perhaps, without any order, or talk a long
time though they tire the patience of their hearers,
they have acquired this highly useful art; but it is
not an attainment so cheaply purchased, it can only
be obtained by determined perseverance, and will
yield only to resolution. Let those who wish to be
distinguished by this talent, consider the celebrated
example of Demosthenes, and they will see how far
perseverance alone may carry them in the improve-
ment of their elocution, even in opposition to the
strongest natural defects: his life will at the same
time afford a suflicient lesson to demonstrate the im-
portance of eloquence in the most momentous affairs.

If the reasons I have before pointed out, are not
sufficient inducements to lead to its study, it will, I
fear, be totally useless to mark the disadvantages re-
sulting from its neglect: but I shall, notwithstanding,
distinguish a few of them. Frequently are men of
the greatest talent, deprived of that influence which
they ought to have in society, from a want of elo-
quence; often do they make themselves appear ridi-
culous, by their uncouth manner of expression, and
a deficiency of language in which to clothe their
ideas. And this we even find to be the case with
men, who are able to write in the most nervous and
eloquent style; yet when they are called upon to ex-
press the same sentiments in public, forfeit, in a great
measure, the good opinion they may by their writings
have obtained. How often does the monotonous ca-

to excite the enervated Athenians to arms, and long oppose the power and ability of Philip;-by which Cicero acquired for himself that unfading reputation, to which his character does not altogether entitle him ; and by which, our immortal Chatham awed and commanded the British senate. This may, perhaps, be in some measure attributable to that reservedness of disposition attendant on the character of an Englishman, which generally leads him to avoid appearing conspicuous, or intruding upon the attention of others, Though this disposition is fast wearing away by the diffusion of education, and our continued intercourse with foreign countries, yet still we seldom find the English adopting those means which are most likely to conduce to its attainment. We have no such inducements amongst us, as parties for conversation, where we may enjoy the feast of reason in the mutual communication of sentiment. No, ours are dinnerparties, tea-parties, card-parties, or drinking-parties, or any kind of parties but rational ones; in them, the sole object is to pass away time, not to improve it: not to enjoy our mental faculties, but to gratify our sensual appetites, How often have I, in societies of this nature, been nauseated with the frivolity of our pursuits, and lamented hours passed in scenes of dissipation, which might have been much more usefully employed in the cultivation of the mind, by the discussion of literary and scientific subjects. The English rank first in real and sterling genius, but then they too frequently let their talents lie dormant, satisfied with the consciousness of possession, nor endeavour to make them useful. Nothing can more tend to make our knowledge useful, than reducing it into practice; by imparting his acquisitions in learning, every man indeed encreases his however beautiful may be his composition, or in- store of wisdom, and becomes a benefit to society. structive his discourse. How little are the best No means can, in my opinion, be so efficiently remoral discourses attended to, unless dressed in refined sorted to for increasing the effect of learning and language, and delivered in an impressive manuer. wisdom, as cloquence in writing and speaking. In parliament, how impotent is the voice of the in- art of writing is more boundless in its application, elegant orator; and at the bar, how trifling the busi- by the invention of the press; but the art of speakness of the barrister who is deficient in eloquence. ing is far more effective in the limited circle to which Nothing indeed, tends more to prejudice us against it extends; it makes a deeper impression on the another on his first appearance, than a want of address, mind, and may be more frequently applied to useful by which we may properly understand a deficiency of purposes. One is a talent, which may be applied to expression. Is it not therefore incumbent upon us, such purposes every day, hour, and minute, without if we wish to obtain the good opinion of the world, any expence or labour to the individual: the other to cultivate this admirable talent? not that we should can only be brought into exercise occasionally, rebe continually making speeches upon every trifling quires more labour in the composition, and is more occasion, though at the same time, upon every occa- subject to animadversion and censure. sion, to be able to express ourselves in neat and never feel the same delight in reading the speech of a appropriate language. For a man to congratulate a celebrated orator, as his auditors must have experienfriend when he finds him in good health, by entering ced in listening to it ;-nor in reading the drama, even into an elaborate dissertation on the blessings derived of Shakspeare, as in listening to its recitation by our from its possession, the means of preserving it, and O'Neill, Kemble, and Kean. In the closet we may the debt of gratitude due for so great a favour, admire both, but if our hearts must be affected, we would be ridiculous and absurd: yet it would be ought to hear the orator and actor. The eultivation gratifying to the friend, to have such congratulations of the art of speaking with eloquence and propriety, conveyed in a feeling manner. If a man really feels will naturally lead to the art of writing with elewhat he wishes to impress upon others, he will al-gance and perspicuity, but I much doubt whether ways find himself more competent to express his ideas | any study of the latter talent, would ever make a upon those occasions, than when he is uninterested in man speak eloquently. the subject. It divests him, in a considerable degree, of that diffidence which he might otherwise feel, and increases his confidence. The attempt once successfully made, all future endeavours are pleasing and gratifying to the mind, and every future flight adds to the improvement of the art. Like that of the unfledged bird, the first attempt is made in fear, but encouraged by success, man feels the powers of his tongue; that which was at first an object of terror, becomes a most pleasing source of enjoyment, and we then wonder at our first sensations. If a man resolves to attain the art of speaking, let him use diligence and perseverance, and he will seldom fail in

It is to me a matter of surprise, that mankind in general should not endeavour to acquire the art of Eloquence; more especially, that it should be neglected by those gentlemen who are brought up to any of the learned professions, for certainly there is no acquirement which goes farther in gaining the good opinion of the world. How often do we find a man of inferior judgement, leaving behind him competitors at the Bar, by the mere force of Eloquence;-a minister of the Gospel attracting by his elocution crowded congregations, though his doctrines be repugnant to many of his auditors! A senator commands the attention and respect of his opponents by this all-powerful art. In religion, legislation, and law, how strongly is exemplified the great utility of this acquisition: we find its possessors obtaining the esteem, admiration, and respect of society; rising to the most elevated stations in the empire, and acquiring immense riches. In every situation of life has it a pervading influence; under all circumstances does it command attention. Not only in public characters, but in every private individual, is it considered as a most enviable acquisition. Not alone in the pulpit, senate, or at the bar, but in the social inter-dence of the preacher full his congregation to repose, course of life does it obtain for itself pre-eminence and distinction, for how gladly do we listen to, and hang on the words of the eloquent. It is a talent which displays itself in the most momentous affairs, and can descend even to the lowest. How capable are the eloquent of insinuating themselves into the favourable regard of those whom it is their wish to please, even when possessed of no outward advantages, bat loathsome to the eye; yet they overcome the prejudices or dislike of their hearers, and command their esteem-of all the talents possessed or acquired by man, there is none which has led to such important results, or so much agitated or influenced the opinions of the world. Though often, alas! too often applied to the promotion of evil, yet how easily may it be rendered productive of good; for what can be more advantageous to its spread than the eloquence of its advocates, by which truths divine, come mended from their tongues; what can make instruction more beneficial or acceptable, than coming clothed in a pleasing dress; virtue, more lovely, than when described in the glowing language of feeling;- or what can more influence, or operate upon, the passions and motives of man! It is adapted to promote every great and noble design, to command the attention of listening senates, and rule the fate of empires; to lead us to the love and practice of virtue, to defend the innocent, and punish the guilty. And, if we descend to meaner considerations, we find it a most powerful assistant in acquiring for its owner, a reputation to which his natural talents may not entitle him, for superficial observers (of which class consist the majority of mankind) are ready to allow to those who please them, more merit than they deserve. They generally estimate every man's abilities by his conversation; and, as that is more or less splendid, do they rank him in their opinion; and his title to learning, or knowledge, will rise or fall in their estimation, as he is distinguished by this acquirement.

Eloquence being of so much importance, why then should it be so generally neglected? Are we to attribute this to a want of capacity in mankind, or from what other cause does it proceed? I, for my own part, ascribe it to our viewing it as being of less importance than it really is, for we see that no efforts are made to acquire it, unless absolutely required by particular professional pursuits, and even then no greater degree of excellence is usually sought, than is necessary to prevent obloquy and derision. It is sel

its attainment.

Of all nations, however, the English seem to me most defective in this necessary quality. Not but that our country has produced orators, who, for eloquence, may vie with the finest models of antiquity, and far surpass them in the strength of reasoning yet, taken as a people, I think it must be admitted, that we are deficient in this most important talent: that talent by which Demosthenes was enabled

Manchester, Feb. 19, 1822.

M

The

We can

S.

ACCOUNT OF A GREAT AND EXTRAOR-
DINARY CAVE IN INDIANA.

In a Letter from MR. BENJAMIN ADAMS to JOHN

H. FARNHAM, Esa. of Frankfort, Ohio*.

THE cave is situated in the north-west quarter of section 27. in township No. 3. of the second easterly range in the district of lands offered for sale at Jeffersonville.

The above is the title of a very curious paper, published as an Appendix to the first volume of the Archæologia Americana, which we have just received from the American Antiquarian Society. Mr. Adams, the author of the letter, is the proprietor of the cave.-DR. BREWSTER.

to crawl ten or twelve feet into the next
large room. From this place to the
PILLAR,' a distance of about one mile
and a quarter, the visitor finds an alternate
succession of large and small rooms, va-

The precise time of its discovery is diffi-
cult to ascertain. I have conversed with
several men who had made several tran-
sient visits to the interior of the cave about
eleven years ago, at which time it must
have exhibited a very interesting appear-riously decorated; sometimes mounting
ance, being, to use their own phraseology, elevated points by gradual or difficult
covered like snow with the salts. At this ascents, and again descending as far be-
period some describe the salts to have low; sometimes travelling on a pavement,
been from six to nine inches deep, on the or climbing over huge piles of rocks, de-
bottom of the cave, on which lumps of an tached from the roof by some convulsion
enormous size were interspersed, while of nature, and thus continues his route,
the sides presented the same impressive until he arrives at the pillar.
spectacle with the bottom, being covered
with the same production. Making liberal
allowances for the hyperbole of discover-
ers and visitors, I cannot help thinking
that the scenery of the interior, at this
time, was highly interesting, and ex-
tremely picturesque. I found this opinion
upon conversations with General Harri-
son and Major Floyd, who visited the
cave at an early period, and whose intel-
ligence would render them less liable to
be deceived by novel appearances.

The hill, in which the cave is situated, is about four hundred feet high from the base to the most elevated point; and the prospect to the south-east, in a clear day, is exceedingly fine, commanding an extensive view of the hills and valleys:bordering on Big Blue River. The top of the hill is covered principally with oak and chesnut. The side to the south-east is mantled with cedar. The entrance is about midway from the base to the summit, and the surface of the cave preserves ingeneral about that elevation; although I must acknowledge this to be conjectural, as no experiments have been made with a view to ascertain the fact. It is probably owing to this middle situation of the cave, that it is much drier than is common.

After entering the cave by an aperture of twelve or fifteen feet wide, and in height, in one place, three or four feet, you descend with easy and gradual steps into a large and spacious room, which continues, about a quarter of a mile, pretty nearly the same in appearance, varying in height from eight to thirty feet, and in breadth from ten to twenty. In this distance the roof is, in some places, arched; in others a plane, and in one place, particularly, it resembles an inside view of the roof of a house. At the distance above named the cave forks; but the right hand fork soon terminates, while the left rises by a flight of rocky stairs, nearly ten feet high, into another story, and pursues a course, at this place, nearly south-east. Here the roof commences a regular arch, the height of which, from the floor, varies from five to eight feet, and the width of the cave from six to twelve feet; which continues to what is called the Creeping Place, from the circumstance of having

The aspect of this large and stately white column, as it comes in sight from the dim reflection of the torches, is grand and impressive. Visitors have seldom pushed their inquiries farther than two or three hundred yards beyond this pillar. This column is about fifteen feet in diameter, from twenty to thirty feet in height, and regularly receded from the top to the bottom. In the vicinity of this spot are some inferior pillars, of the same appearance and texture. Chemically speaking, it is difficult for me to say what are the constituent parts of these columns, but lime appears to be the base. Major Warren, who is certainly a competent judge, is of opinion that they are satin-spar.

I have thus given you an imperfect sketch of the mechanical structure and of the cave. It only remains to mention its productions.

appearance

This neu

The first in importance is the Sulphate
of Magnesia, or Epsom salts, which, as
has been previously remarked, abounds
throughout this cave in almost its whole
extent, and which I believe, has no parallel
in the history of that article.
tral salt is found in a great variety of
forms, and in many different stages of
formation. Sometimes in lumps, vary-
ing from one to ten pounds in weight.
The earth exhibits a shining appearance,
from the numerous particles interspersed
throughout the huge piles of dirt collected
in different parts of the cave. The walls
are covered in different places with the
same article, and reproduction goes on
rapidly. With a view to ascertain this
fact, I removed from a particular place
every vestige of salt, and in four or five
weeks the place was covered with small
needle-shaped crystals, exhibiting the
appearance of frost.

The quality of the salt in this cave is
inferior to none; and when it takes its
proper stand in regular and domestic prac-
tice, must be of national utility. With
respect to the resources of this cave, I
will venture to say, that every competent
judge must pronounce it inexhaustible.
The worst earth that has been tried, will
yield four pounds of salt to the bushel;
and the best from twenty to twenty-five
pounds.

The next production is the Nitrate of Lime, or saltpetre earth. There are vast quantities of this earth, and equal in strength to any that I have ever seen. There are also large quantities of the Nitrate of Alumina, or nitrate of argil, which will yield as much nitrate of potash, or saltpetre, in proportion to the quantities of earth, as the nitrate of lime.

The three articles above enumerated are first in quantity and importance; but there are several others which deserve notice, as subjects of philosophical curiosity. The Sulphate of Lime, or plaster of Paris, is to be seen variously formed; ponderous, crystallized and impalpable, or soft, light, and rather spongy. Vestiges of the sulphate of iron are also to be seen in one or two places. Small specimens of the carbonate, and also the nitrate of magnesia, have been found. The rocks in the cave principally consist of carbonate of lime, or common limestone.

I had almost forgotten to state, that near the forks of the cave are two specimens of painting, probably of Indian origin. The one appears to be a savage, with something like a bow in his hand, and furnishes the hint, that it was done when that instrument of death was in use. The other is so much defaced, that it is impossible to say what it was intended to represent.

ANECDOTE OF GARRICK.

When Garrick visited the continent, he was received every where with the most distinguished marks of

3

took a fancy to act the part-of-a-drunken cavalier.

honour and esteem. Even crowned heads vied with each other in the attentions they paid to him. Neither were those of his own profession slow in profiting by the lessons which she gave them in the dramatic art. him for his master, and looked upon him as a model Preville, the best actor of France, acknowledged for imitation. With this actor, he once made a short excursion from Paris on horseback, when ›Preville Garrick applauded the imitation, but told him he wanted one thing, which was essential to complete the picture he did not make his legs drunk. Hold, my friend,' said he, and I shall show you an English blood, who, after having dined at a tavern, and swallowed three or four bottles of port, mounts his horse in a summer evening, to go to his box in the country.' He immediately proceeded to exhibit all the gradations of intoxication; he called to his servant that the sun and the fields were turning round him; whipped and ed in every direction; at length he lost his whip, his feet seemed incapable of resting in the stirrups, the bridle dropped from his hand, and he appeared to have lost the use of all his faculties; finally, he fell ville gave an involuntary ery of horror, and his terror from his horse in such a death-like manner, that Pregreatly increased when he found his friend made no answer to his questions. After wiping the dust from his face, he asked him again, with the emotion and whose eyes were closed, half opened one of them, anxiety of friendship, whether he was hurt? Garrick, hiccupped, and with the most-natural tone of intoxication, called for another glass. Preville was astonished; and when Garrick started up and resumed bis

spurred his horse until the animal reared and wheel

friend, allow the scholar to embrace his master, and thank him for the valuable lesson he has given him!'

usual demeanour, the French actor exclaimed, My