TO THE EDITOR.

SIR,-The translation which I inclose was made from the French by an ingenions and excellent Lady for her own amusement, and put into my hands by a friend, with permission to use it as discretion might direct. The simplicity, piety, and feeling, with which this little sketch is drawn, render it, in my view, a beautiful piece of biography; whilst the character pourtrayed, is assuredly of that rare and admirable class, which it imports the best interests of society should have all possible publicity given to it. It is on these grounds that I offer it for insertion in your agreeable publication.

according to the custom of the society, some ministers came to make what is called a family visit; the house seemed then altered in appearance, every one became grave, and every thing bore the impression of this holy visit. Elizabeth Gurney was particularly struck at this time, with the evangelical instructions which she received. In a soul like hers, religious impressions could not be transient. Too pious and too enlightened to content herself with an useless devotion, she proved her faith by her works; and very soon afterwards she requested her father would allow her to change one of the drawing-rooms, at Eastham, into a school-room. She received eighty poor children there. Every day she passed Translated from Mad. Du Thor's history of the some hours with them, in reading and ex

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MRS. FRY.

Quakers.

"Courage may be praised, glory may be extolled, but when we talk of piety, virtue, and humility, we should make use of other language; and it would not be understanding Mrs. Fry to give her one of those cold, formal, academical phrases, which apply to all the world, because they express no sentiment. Here, my task is easy; 1 have but to relate, and am only afraid that the truth may appear an exaggeration. Admitted to Mrs. Fry's intimacy, a sort of diffidence hinders me from betraying her domestic virtues; but her public character will declare what I must conceal.

"Elizabeth Gurney, third daughter of John Gurney, of Eastham Hall, in Norfolk, was born in 1780. She lost her mother early, and was then left very young to herself. Her father, though a member of the sect of Quakers, was not a very strict one, and allowed great liberties to his children. Elizabeth Gurney, brought up in the world, enjoyed all the advantages which birth, fortune, and education can give, She was taken to Lo London, where she wished to see every thing, partock, of all the gay diversions, and returned into Norfolk-she was then seyenteen, A short time after her return,

plaining the Bible to them. She adopted the simple dress of the Quakers, and renounced the dissipated pleasures of the world. In '1800 she married Mr. Fry, whose generosity and goodness justified the preference she had shewn him. Instead of opposing her charitable endeavours, he assisted her in them; giving her the means of relieving the unfortunate, by settling a considerable annual sum at her disposal, which she spends entirely on the poor.

46

The life of Mrs. Fry is a series of good actions-her time is divided amongst daily acts of charity-she makes no distinctions-the unhappy are brethren, whatever difference there may be in country and religion. Grief is every where the same; benevolence should therefore be universal. Mrs. Fry is equally the physician of the mind and body-she comforts, she feeds; she gives the Bible and clothing; and thus practically explains the doctrines which she teaches. She refuses not her assistance to the guilty; she treats vice like an illness, and never avoids the sick.

"Always employed about the unhappy, and endeavouring to do them good, Mrs. Fry having heard of the deplorable state of the female prisoners at Newgate, resolved to visit them. She addressed her

WEEKLY.

PRICE 3.

self to the governor for permission to be admitted-he answered, that it would be really dangerous to go into such an asylum of vice and disorder, and that he himself did not dare to do so;-that the conversation she would bear, and the horrors she would witness, would disgust her, and he thought it his duty to dissuade her from such an undertaking. 1. Mrs. Fry said, she knew very well to what she was exposing herself, and only asked for leave to go into the prison. The governor advised her not to take either her watch or purse: Mrs. Fry's answer was, $1 thank thee, I have no fears, I shall keep both my watch and purse.' She was taken into a room of the prison in which there were about 160 women-those that were condemned, and those that were not tried, all mixed together. Children, brought up in this school of vice, hearing and uttering nothing but blasphemy, added to the horror of the scene. The prisoners eat, dressed their victuals, and slept in the same room. Newgate resembled a den of wild beasts. Mrs Bry was not discouraged; the grace of God is infinite; the true christian never despairs. Notwithstanding her delicate state of health, (at that time particularly so she persevered in her pious design These women listened, and looked with astonishment at the calm serenity of her fine figure, which seemed to soften their ferocity. It has been said, that if virtue would shew herself, she would be irresistible and it is from this cause that explain the extraordinary ascendant which Mrs. Fry gains over every one." Yes, virtue is vi sible; she inhabits the body of that benevolent woman who, like prayer, is the support and consolation of men. ur tong

f

"Mrs. Fry thus addressed the pri soners. You appear to be unhappy'; you are in want of clothes would you not wish for a friend to attend to you, and to relieve your wants? Certainly, said they, we should desire nothing better; but nobody cares about us, and where should we meet with a friend? 6 I came from the wish of being of use to you,

said Mrs. Fry, and I think if you will assist me, that I may be so.' She then spoke words of comfort to them, and gave them rays of hope. She did not talk of their crimes-the minister of a

persevering virtue.

"The city of London has voted Mrs. Gad of love, she went there to console, Fry its thanks, and there is not an Euand to pray, and not to judge and con-glishman who does not bless her name. demn. When she was going away, these But is there any country except England, women crowded round, as if to detain where a woman, who did not possess the her, saying, you will not return any religion of the state, would have been more to us; but Mrs. Fry promised to allowed to interfere with the prisons, and come again, which she did very soon. to make rules for them? Every where She entered the prison with the intention else, party feuds, and private animosity, of passing the day in it-the doors were would have been offered to the success of shut upon her, and she remained alone with the prisoners: You cannot think,' said she, that I came here without having an order to do so. This book, (she held a bible in her hand) the guide of my life, led me to you: it commands me to visit the prisoners, and to have pity on the poor, and the afflicted. I am ready to do all in my power, but my efforts will be vain, if you will not second me.' She then asked if they would wish her to read some passages out of that book, which had sent her to them. They con

6

"As useful to her sect, as she is to Newgate, Mrs. Fry shews in her evangelical ministry, the indulgence which Proceeds from real piety, and a pure conscience. Her eloquent morality impresses so strongly, that you feel better, or at least, that you may become so by listening to her. She is loved, not feared; and is the example of all her precepts. What interesting details I could give! but I must conclude this little sketch, happy

THE CLUB.'

No. IV.-Friday, March 15th, 1822.

"Let me see wherein

The letter of An Observer,' which appeared in the

last number of the Iris, has naturally engaged the attention of the Club,' and was the first subject of conversation at our meeting this evening.

Our friend the Schoolmaster, who was in the chair, begun by remarking that it was much to be lamented that the writer of the letter had not devoted that time to the study of English grammar, which he appeared to have spent in learning the rudiments of Latin. ' If'

continued he, gravely, the parents of this gentleman had confided him to my care, even for a very short period, his composition would have been the better for it; for I think, I may say without vanity, that-F have not a boy, who has been six months in my grammar-class, who would have made so many blunders in the use of pronouns as are to be found in the first pa

ragraph of this gentleman's letter.'

The rest of the members could not forbear smiling

the professional importance with which Mr. Observer's violations of grammar, were noticed by thế chairman. We reminded him that some of the most

Such is MAD. DU THOR'S account of the life and

sented. Mrs. Fry chose the parable of the householder, in the 20th chapter of St. Matthew, and when she came to those that were hired at the eleventh hour, she said, the eleventh hour is now striking for you; the greatest part of your lives has been lost, but Christ came to save sinners. Some asked who Christ was?' labours of MRS. FRY,-which bears internal evi-| others said, that surely he did not come dence of its fidelity, and, in all that has relation for them; that the time was passed, and to the public, enjoys a testimony as glorious as it they would no longer be saved.' Mrs. is undisputed. Who, that reads this sketch, joins Fry replied that Christ had suffered; not in the hope expressed by the writer, that such a that he was poor also, and that it was life and such labours may long be continued to the specially to save the poor and the afflicted world! Those who remember the visit of this exthat he came into the world.' Mrs. Fry traordinary woman to MANCHESTER, and are aware procured the establishment of a school in of her truly christian anxiety to do for the inmates of the prison itself, for the religious instruc- our crowded jail, what she had with so much admition of the children; the prisoners, not-rable prudence effected in Newgate, may be pardonwithstanding their own disorderly lives, ed for a natural solicitude to know why that rare and seized with eagerness the idea of improv- benevolent talent, which gained the grateful thanks ing their children: this was gaining a of the city of London, and the cordial sanction of great point. When Mrs. Fry had made its highest authorities, was not permitted to exert the rules for the management of the pri- itself here? With all the reverence which is due soners, a day was fixed, when the Lord to magistrates (and none can be more disposed than Mayor and Aldermen being present at the writer to pay it) we are not debarred, I hope, Newgate, she read them aloud; asking from expressing a respectful wish to know the the prisoners if they would follow them; grounds of a proceeding, in which the public have in which case they were to hold up their an interest so deep and general. It is understood hands as a sign of approbation. This was that the answer returned to Mrs. Fry's application, done unanimously; so great was the res- was to this effect; that'there was no occasion for pect and confidence which Mrs. Fry had inspired them with. Thanks to her perseverance, and the years she devoted to it, the prison has changed its appearance -the influence of virtue has softened the horrors of vice-Newgate is become a school of penitents.

First, Is our prison really in that high state of moral discipline as to make the labours and assistance of such a person unnecessary?

Second,-If it be, would it not be a high gratification to the public, to have this certified to them in a regular report, and are they not entitled to the

Fridays are the public days on which the prison is visited; when Mrs. Fry satisfaction? reads the bible to the prisoners, and often

IMLAC.

has taken his notions of our dragon from his acquaintance with the Boa Constrictor, which, in Blackwood's

magazine, is said to be capable of swallowing a Rbi

noceros! Now, if this is the case, we entreat per. mission to undeceive him. We do solemnly protest that our dragon never intended to eat the club of which Mr. Observer is a member; nor did we ever purpose to destroy either that or any other association. How, indeed, could either we, or the dragon, hope for

POETRY.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR,-I send you an old French Epigram by the Chevalier d'Aceilly, who died in 1674: with a translation of it: after reading which, it may perhaps be a question with many, which ought to be considered most venomous, the serpent, the lady, or the writer.

EPIGRAMME.

Un gros serpent mordit Aurèle.
Que croyez-vous qu'il arriva?
Qu' Aurèle mourut? bagatelle !
Ce fut le serpent qui creva.

TRANSLATION.

A monstrous serpent bit Miss Prue.

What think you did from that ensue? The lady's death.-You quite mistake! Her stronger venom kill'd the snake. February, 1822.

[ORIGINAL.]

THE LOVER TO HIS HEART.

I find, my heart, thou art not mine,
Thou dost not care about me;

Those sensibilities of thine,
To serve me once did all combine,
Now move and feel without me.

Methinks I know whose heart thou art,
No hard thing to discover;
When forced from Lucy to depart,

T. V.

SONNET.

FRANCESCO REDI.

'Era 'l mio animo rozzo e selvaggio!' My mind was like a rugged soil that lay With thick and cloudy darkness overspread, Which chilling skies and iron seasons made A sterile waste, with their ungentle sway. Warm'd in the light of Beauty's genial ray, Its icy bands were loosed, its rigour fled, And many a budding flow'ret rear'd its head, As blooms the meadow in the prime of May. Then came Love's gentle summer breath, to form Flowers into fruit: and soon his fostering care Had to a golden Autumn led the way;--But ah! fell Jealousy's untimely storm Stirr'd by my lovely foe, soon fill'd the air, And swept the harvest of my hopes away.

TO A LADY.

I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair,

And I might have been brought to love thee,

But that I found the slightest prayer,

That breath could make, had power to move thee;
But I can leave thee now alone,
As worthy to be loved by none.

I do confess thou'rt sweet, but find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind
That kisseth every thing it meets :
Then since thou canst with more than one,
Thou'rt worthy to be kissed by none.

The virgin rose that untouch'd stands,
Arm'd with its briars, how sweet it smells!
But pluck'd and strain'd thro' ruder hands,
Its sweet no longer with it dwells,

But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves drop from it one by one.
Such fate ere long will thee betide,
When thou hast handled been awhile,
With sear flowers to be thrown aside :
And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
To see, thy love for every one
Hath brought thee to be lov'd by none.

THE AUTOMATON ARTIST.

Among the various novelties that occasionally lay claim to the curiosity and admiration of our readers, we may class this unique specimen of mechanism, with the highest efforts of human ingenuity. Where a connexion by machinery, however complicated, exists between an Automaton and the effects produced, conjecture may come near the causes; but when it achieves, as this little mechanical man does, a task, in which living genius frequently fails,- that of producing a fac-simile of the features, although at a distance from any contact with the countenance, the circumstance becomes truly interesting, and baffles the acuteness even of scientific enquiry: nor can we withhold the praise of perfect liberality from the young gentleman, since to all his visitors he gives, what they no doubt deem a handsome equivalent for the admission-THEMSELVES.

STEAM ENGINES OF ENGLAND.

A French writer, M. Dupin, gives the following illustration of the labour of these machines. The great pyramid of Egypt required for its erection above 100,000 men for 20 years; but if it were required again to raise the stones from the quarries, and place them at their present height, the action of the steam-engines of England, which are at most managed by 36,000 men, would be sufficient to produce this effect in 18 hours. If it were required to know how long a time they would take to cut the stones, and move them from the quarries to the pyramid, a very few days would be found sufficient. The volume of the great pyramid is 4,000,000 cubic metres, its weight is about 10,400,000 tons, or 10,400,000 kilogrammes. The centre of gravity of the pyramid is elevated 49 metres from the base, and taking 11 metres as the main depth of the quarries, the total height of elevation is 60 metres, which, multiplied by 10,400,000 tons, gives 624,000,000 tons raised one metre. Thus the total of the steamengines in England represents a power of 320,000 horses. These engines moved for twenty-four hours, would raise 862,800,000 tons one metre high, and consequently, 647,100,000 tons in 18 hours, which surpasses the produce of the labour spent in raising the materials of the great pyramid.

THE MUSAEID.

No. I. THURSDAY, MARCH 21, 1822.

-Sibi quivis Speret idem: sudet multum, frustraque laboret Ausus idemHOR.

Others may try, but, spite of fuss, They'll never write as well as us.

Where's Volatile?' said Tacit, when we had scarcely sat down at the Parson's. Where is Volatile,' said the Doctor, he came with me to the door!' Where can he be gone?' said the Trio. We can do nothing without Volatile,' said Orthodox. I think,' said Tacit, this silly scheme of his will expose us.' Expose us to what?' said the Doctor. All the ladies approve it,' said the Parson: I heard it finely laughed at,' said Tacit: Laughed at, by whom?' said the Doctor. How I hate that fool!" said Volatile, bursting into the room. Hush!" said Orthodox. I tell you Parson he's the most intolerable "Who is?' said the Doctor. 'Frank Prattleloud-I just ran up to Smiths' for the letters and O! well thought on, did you find any,' said Tacit: Will. laid the letters on the table. 'Let us proceed to business,' said Orthodox, Well! what have you done? Nothing,' said one, Nothing,' said two, Nothing,' said three, Nothing,' said Orthodox, in answer to himself. What have we been doing,? said Tacit. 'Nothing, it seems,' said VoJatile. What can we do,' said the Doctor. Nothing of ourselves, can we Parson,' said Volatile. Hush!' said Orthodox. But something must be done,' said Tacit. We are pledged,' said the Doctor. Each take paper and write,' said Volatile, I've began something myself'-taking some scraps from his pocket.

MAY YOU LIKE IT,' by a Country Curate.-We have read this little volume with peculiar satisfaction, and have no hesitation in recommending it fully to our friends. The stories, which it contains, are simple and affecting and their moral of an elevated and religious character. Some of the poetry is sweet.

We should not, however, do strict justice to our opinion, if we were to conceal that we think there is something too much of imagination infused into the religious parts of the book. Not that we object to religion in poetry but that we do not like poetry in religion. The characters are highly wrought: they act upon principles too pure for the generality of mankind to estimate, and must consequently lose much of their effect. The childhood of Charles Spencer is a beautiful tale and we quite love Rosine.

There are many people, we know, who will laugh at the simplicity of the stories: we cannot wish to be of their number. The sentiments may be too exalted for the common apprehension, still they are proper sentiments; and our pleasure in them may be taken as the test of correspondent feelings in our own hearts. In this view, we say, of this book, to our friends, may you like it' for your own sakes.

The Doctor was inclined to be witty on what he called Tacit's sentimentality,' but the Parson reproved him. You have recommended,' said he to Tacit, a very interesting book, and you have done so judiciously. A class of publications has lately been too prevalent among us, from whose false fire' an imaginary glow of piety has been caught but which is destitute of the cherishing and kindly influence of true religion. If this fierce glare has been sometimes mistaken for the true light, it need not be wondered if the pure and lambent flame be, itself, occasionally mistaken for the other. The speculator of this world may scoff alike at both-but we trust that he who seeketh for the right will not long be deceived.'

A truly lenten entertainment,' said the Doctor, 'but if you mean to cater for the public you must pay no attention to fast-times.' Thou art an irreverent fellow,' said Orthodox, and lackest grace; but I believe in this respect thou art right.' 'I don't see,' said the Doctor, what grace is wanting for our purpose, unless it be one of the lovely three, who might all indeed be fit companions of the heathen

nine we have chosen for our patronesses: and as to spirit-Hush,' said Orthodox, and the Doctor, who saw he was going too far, thanked him for the check. But bless me,' said he, do look at Volatile, he's surely making experiments on the contractility of muscle.' At this moment there was indeed an infinite diversity of contortions working in the visage of Volatile, and an abstract speculation in his eye' which shewed that be was far above the distractions of this sublunary sphere, though evidently not a little affected by the confusions of that which he had reached. The Doctor pept over his shoulder. Poetry,' said he,fair Heroics by Jupiter!' 'Now d--n Doctor-(Hush,' said Orthodox,) thou hast cut short the finest series of imaginations that ever mortal was inspired with.' So you jumped at the conclusion,' said the Doctor, who was unusually sharp this evening. Pray let me look at the paper,' said Tacit. Read it, read it,' said the Parson and Doctor. Volatile gave them the verses with a thousand protestations that they were really not fit to be published.' Then why did you make them,' said 'They came,' said Volatile. Then inspired,' said the Parson. PERCY AND HELEN.

the Doctor. they must be

PERCY.

Our path shall be in harmony: a choir
Of heav'nly numbers charm our way of joys;
Where we would linger ever, but still on
Some sweeter bliss salutes us. We will be
World of each other.

We with the stars will commune, not with men,
Planets shall be companions, and the moon,-
The beauteous moon that governs ocean shall
Be our preceptress;

The sun shall shine,--not as a sun to us,
For we will have the day within our hearts,-
A deity of brightness, that shall teach
Our soul perceptions of the eternal God;
We will make earth the school of Heav'n, and learn
High things to serve us for eternity.
Mankind shall know us but as not of them:
We will have undiscoverable retreats
In our own bosoms, where our thoughts shall find
Converse of holiness. Our joys shall be
Pare beams of heav'nly hope converg'd in self:
We will be hallowed from mortality.
HELEN.

O! these are dreams and fantasies, romanc'd
To tell to other's, not to feel ourselves:
Shew me some surer ground of happiness.

PERCY.

O! in thyself is center'd every source

What then is reason, if this madness be?
I would not change it for philosophy.
"T hath been my life to love thee, and my love
Created me in some celestial state.

O! I have watch'd thee silently, until
Spirits have play'd around thee shedding charms,
On that which was too beautiful before.
Oh! I have gaz'd until it hath been pain
To gaze on thee in silence, yet my tongue
Forbade its office, lest a sound should break
The spell that bound so tenderly to earth,
That which seem'd all of heaven: and thy smile!
Oh! I have shudder'd at thy smile, for there
Were quiver'd deaths that man would seek: thy lip
Was bow'd in beauty as it shot them forth;
And when thou spak'st, all things breath'd musie
round thee;

For thy voice murmured in earthless accents,
So sweetly and so delicately tun'd,
That e'en the air, intangible, unseen,

Echo'd its melody. When thou hast fled,
Then have I stood entranc'd, nor lost thy form,
For it was painted on my vision's orb;
But soon, apace, the fantasy dissolv'd
As if thou pass'd to æther in my sight.

While Tacit, the Parson and Doctor were reading over his poetry, mingling each sentence with exclamations of beautiful,' sublime,' exquisite,' Volatile was quietly proceeding with the examination of the correspondence, seemingly indifferent to the ridicule with which they treated his labours. At last a loud laugh from the whole party caused him to look up, and the confusion of his mind was visible in the blushes which deepened on his cheek. What do you mean,' stammered he. Pray which of our guardian nine made such poetry as this come,' said the Parson. There's something besides a rhyming dictionary and ten fingers to this,' said the Doctor. There's no rhyming dictionary at all, its blank verse,' said Volatile, trying to be dogged. Tacit walked to the fire and played with a card on the chimneypiece. Volatile attempted to snatch the paper from Orthodox, who persisted in publishing the lines. The Parson gave them to the Doctor, who walked out of the room. And this is the way the first Musaeid was completed.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

St. Agatha's questions have been submitted to our reverend coadjutor, Homily Orthodox, and he has promised to give the subject his earliest attention.-We are not aware of any canonical injunction to preach in white Kid Gloves. Mrs. Cecilia Circumspect is respectfully assured that we participate most fervently in the indignation which she expresses against Mr. Hayley. Several of his works are ju dicious and elegant, but his essay on Old Maids is abominable. We shall certainly take up cudgels in behalf of the venerable Sisterhood.

Sweet Ann Page may depend on our breaking a lance in her we carry her glove in our crest. Such Butterflies