cellent.

"The old king was an honest, upright man; his very obstinacy was a virtue; it had been impressed on him early, that he had a certain line of duty before him, and that to swerve from it was to wound the constitution. The constitution was his idol; and, in his sight, even its imperfections had something sacred in them.

"The duke of York was an excellent prince. I was on terms of intimacy with him for many years: he opposed the catholics from principle, because he respected his father's prejudices, and really thought the influence of the pope was very great. In his office he was the most punctual man in the world; he had no partialities; and (strangest of all) he never showed the least jealousy of Wellington, on whom so many places were conferred, which his royal highness might have been as well qualified to fill."

STATE OF PUBLIC OPINION AND MUTUAL FEELINGS BETWEEN GREAT-BRITAIN AND THE UNITED STATES OF NORTHAMERICA.

Ir has been asked, "Why do our late colonists cherish such animosity against the parent state?" We answer, "Because they were treated with shameful injustice by a courtly parliament." But let us hear what captain Basil Hall says on the state of feeling between the countries in question.

"The artificial structure of society is so dissimilar in the two countries, and the consequent difference in the occupations, opinions, and feelings of the two people on almost every subject that can interest either, is so great and striking, even at the first glance, that my surprise is not, why we should have been so much estranged from one another in sentiment and in habits, but how there should still remain-if indeed there do remain-any considerable points of agreement between us. It will place this måtter in a pretty strong light to mention, that during more than a year that I was in America-although the conversation very often turned

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on the politics of Europe for the last thirty years-I never, but in one or two solitary instances, heard a word that implied the smallest degree of sympathy with the exertions which England, singlehanded, had so long made to sustain the drooping cause of freedom. It will be obvious, I think, upon a little reflection, how the same causes have not operated in America to keep her so entirely ignorant of England, as we in England are of America. Nearly all that she has of letters, of arts, and of science, has been, and still continues to be, imported from us, with little addition or admixture of a domestic growth or manufacture. Nearly all that she learns of the proceedings of the other parts of the world also comes through the same channel, England, which, therefore, is her chief market for every thing intellectual as well as commercial. Thus, in a variety of ways, a certain amount of acquaintance with what is doing amongst us is transmitted, as a matter of course, across the Atlantic. After all, however, say what they please, it is a very confused and confined sort of acquaintance which they actually possess of England. There was, indeed, hardly any thing in the whole range of my enquiries in the United States, that proved more different from what I had been led to expect, than this very point. At first, I was surprised at the profundity of their ignorance on this subject, though I own it is far short of our ignorance of them. I was also provoked at this sometimes, till I recollected that an opinionated confidence in our own views, all the world over, is the most prominent characteristic of error. The Americans, of course, very stoutly, and I am sure with sincerity, assert their claims to infallibility on this point; and accordingly they receive with undisguised incredulity the more correct accounts which a personal familiarity with both countries enables foreigners to furnish. I learned in time to see that various causes were in action in America to render England as ungrateful a topic with them as America is undeniably with us. The nature of the monarchical form of government with its attendant distinctions in rank, we may suppose is nearly as repugnant to their tastes as democracy is to ours. The eternal recollections, too, of all the past quarrels between us, in which they indulge not only as an occasional pleasure, but impose upon themselves as a peri

odical duty, and celebrate, accordingly, with all sorts of national rancor, at a yearly festival, render the revolutionary war in which they succeeded, nearly as fertile a source of irritation to them, with reference to poor Old England, though the issue was successful, as its disasters formerly were to us, who failed. But there is this very material and characteristic difference between the cases :-we have long ago forgotten and forgiven all that has passed, and absolutely think so little about it, that I believe, on my conscience, not one man in a thousand amongst us knows a word of these matters, with which they are apt to imagine us so much occupied; whereas, in America, the full, true, and particular account of the angry dispute between us-the knowlege of which ought to have been buried long ago-is carefully taught at school, cherished in youth, and afterwards carried, in manhood, into every ramification of public and private life. If I should be asked to give my countrymen an example of the extent of the ignorance which prevails in America with respect to England, I might instance the erroneous, but almost universal opinion in that country, that the want of cordiality with which, I grant, the English look upon them, has its source in the old recollections alluded to; and I could never convince them, that such vindictive retrospections, which it is the avowed pride and delight of America to keep alive in their pristine asperity, were entirely foreign to the national character of the English, and inconsistent with that hearty John-Bull spirit, which teaches them to forget all about a quarrel, great or small, the moment the fight is over, and they have shaken hands with their enemy in testimony of such compact. At the same time, I cannot, and never did deny, that there existed amongst us a considerable degree of unkindly feeling toward America; but this I contended was ascribable, not by any means to past squabbles, recent or remote, but almost exclusively to causes actually in operation, in their full force, at the present moment, and lying far deeper than the memory of those by-gone wars, the details of which have long been forgotten, even by the few eyewitnesses who remain, and about which the English of the present day are either -profoundly ignorant, or (which comes to the same thing) profoundly indifferent. Be the causes, however, what they may,

the curious fact of our mutual ignorance is indisputable. At least so it appears to me; and I have good reason to believe, that such is the opinion of almost every foreigner, continental, as well as English, who has visited America. We however, in England, frankly and fully admit our very small acquaintance with that country, whereas the Americans, probably with as much sincerity, proclaim their perfect acquaintance with England.The conclusion is odd enough: both parties are satisfied-they are convinced that they know all about us; and we are perfectly conscious that we know nothing about them. While, therefore, I may perhaps indulge myself in the expectation of being able to furnish some slight information to people on this side of the water respecting that country, I have had far too much experience of the hopeless nature of the converse of the proposition, to attempt changing the opinions of the Americans as to what is passing in England. On this topic, indeed, to use the words of Burke in speaking of another nation, the inhabitants of the United States are, it is to be feared, pretty nearly -reason-proof."

A HAPPY TRANSITION FROM COOKERY TO

LITERATURE.

WE lately noticed, with due commendation, the culinary researches and gastronomic skill of Louis Eustache Ude, whose fame is so high among aristocratic epicures. It now appears, that, in a new edition of his work, he has substituted literature for cookery, and has shown that he is as able in one department, as in the other," armed for either field." We confess that we have not seen his system of literature, but trust to the authority of a grave writer in the Athenæum (we hope not a satirical wag), who has favored us with the following extracts from the preface of the learned cook.

"I have published (says M. Ude) a book of cookery. Of the indirect effect of that work on the morals, manners, and opinions of England, it is not for me to speak. I leave to others to proclaim that what mechanics' institutes and infant schools are slowly accomplishing for the lower classes, has been at once achieved for the higher by a single volume. It has sufficed for me to contemplate with silent satisfaction the sure predominance of truth over error, of a philosophic spirit over

vulgar and confused empiricism; of knowledge complete and harmonious, over the blind guesses of ignorance, and the rude and inconsistent experiments of semibarbarous kitchens. I have exulted, with a tranquil and modest triumph, in the inevitable success of my labors; and it has been to me no slight testimony of the superiority of my favorite art over every other mode of human activity and intelligence, that while years of hostility, and month after month of nightly contest (fatal alike to sleep and eating, to the enjoyment of the bed and the suppertable,) were hardly enough to settle the Roman-catholic question, one retired student brought about by a single volume a revolution of far higher importance and more lasting benefit. The distinctions of sects are partial and transitory. But every man to live must eat, and, to all who eat, cookery is of paramount interest. "These reflections might have been sufficient for the happiness of many men. To mine they were not so. No sooner had I finished my labors in one department, than I began to turn my eyes to another; and I speedily determined that I would write a book on literature. My views were directed in this line by the following considerations. All that men can know relates either to their bodies or their minds. The material and the spiritual world are the two spheres in which the region of humanity is appointed. Cookery is the highest of physical arts, and literature of metaphysical. For a man who has laid down the boundaries and laws of the one, it will be a new triumph to develope to the utmost the nature of the other, and to arrange its results in a lucid order. He will thus, as it were, have legislated for both the kingdoms of human nature; and all the phanomena of existence will find their explanation and their rule in one or other of his systems. I foresaw with a rapt and prophetic eye the time when, by my intervention, the twin stars of literature and cookery shall reign over all the host of heaven, and govern by their subtile influence the movements of every thing on earth. If any one shall seek to determine the respective value of these powers, I will answer that a comparison between cookery and literature is not so fruitless or erroneous in its conclusions as unphilosophical in its design. Let us imitate the wise caution of Rousseau, who has left it uncertain whether Julie was more

admirable as a beauty, a letter-writer, or an epicure. By the constitution of human nature we necessarily look at the pen and the fork, as different in their essences no less than in their objects; and to attempt to estimate the relative values in the system of the universe of ink and soup, is to forget that nature has unchangeably decreed the gall-nuts to grow in the forest, and the ox to wander in the meadow. Neither is it allowable to imitate the later Platonists of letters and gastronomy, and to trace the ascending series of dishes, until they lose themselves insensibly in the lower regions of literature. The two must be considered as necessarily parallel, and not as possibly one continuous line, We must compare the respective portions of each, look at an entremet side by side with an epigram, study a rump of beef, cooked in the Flemish way, with regard to a tragedy from the German, and dis cover the hidden relation between Tongue à la Maintenon, and Mr. Canning's speeches.

"These were some of the views with which I began my labors: I had the satisfaction of finding, on farther examination, that the method which had been so valuable in the study of cookery, might be applied with equal success to literature. I have read the books of my day, and I have published this treatise. With my two volumes in my hands, I will boldly present myself at the tribunal of posterity; and, if any man can assert that he has done more than I have accomplished for the developement and gratification of the intellect and the palate, I consent that his name shall be written above mine in the Temple of Memory."

A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MR. TERRY.

THE death of a theatrical performer may be considered as a public loss. We do not affirm, as Dr. Johnson said when he had lost his friend Garrick, that the decease of Mr. Daniel Terry has "eclipsed the gaiety of nations." That would be an hyperbolical remark in the present case; for Mr. Terry was not a first-rate actor, though he undoubtedly possessed considerable merit. He was, we understand, born at Bath about the year 1780. He was intended by his parents for an architect, for which purpose they placed him under Mr. Samuel Wyatt, with whom he remained five years; but, having early conceived a passion for

the Thespian profession, he abandoned one mode of "drawing houses" for the practice of another mode more congenial to his inclination. His first dramatie essay is stated to have been Heartwell, in the farce of the Prize-a part affording little scope for the display of histrionic talent. In 1803 he was at Sheffield, playing Tressel in Richard III., Cromwell in Henry VIII., and other minor parts experimentally; but, whether disappointed in his expectations of eminent success, or from some other cause, he reverted to his original pursuit. Of this he again became weary in two years, and joined the corps dramatique of Mr. Stephen Kemble, then performing at the principal towns in the North of England. With this company he remained until its dissolution in 1806, and gained considerable experience as an actor, by varied and laborious practice. He then went to Liverpool, where he made slow but sure steps in public favor, and continued there until 1809, when he was engaged by Mr. Henry Siddons to lead the business at Edinburgh, on the secession of Mr. Meggot. Whilst he resided there, he made the acquaintance of Mr. Ballantyne, and was by him introduced to Sir Walter Scott, who ever afterwards remained with him on a very friendly footing, and manifested toward him and his family, on more than one occasion, substantial proofs of regard. He was at length induced, by the offer of an engagement at the Haymarket Theatre, to take leave of his friends and the stage at Edinburgh, to court-what is ever the ultimatum of an actor's ambition-the favorable testimony of a London audience. He accordingly made his debut in the metropolis, on the 20th of May, 1812, in the character of Lord Ogleby, and was favorably received. He continued, during this and the next season, to play in succession a variety of old and new parts, with undiminished success. At the expiration of the second season he joined the Covent-garden company, where he continued until some disagreement about remuneration induced him to go over to the rival establishment, then under the management of Mr. Elliston. Here he remained until 1825, when, in conjunction with Mr. Yates, he purchased the Adelphi Theatre; and this is one of the occasions alluded to when

Sir Walter proved himself a "friend indeed," becoming, it is said, his security for the payment of his part of the pur

chase-money. This speculation was looked upon as a good one, and that theatre continued to thrive for two seasons, under their joint management. About this time, unpleasant rumors of pecuniary embar rassments on the part of Mr. Terry, (totally unconnected with Mr. Yates or the theatre) began to attract so much public notice, as to render a dissolution of partnership necessary. This was accomplished, and he compounded in a handsome dividend with his creditors. After the settlement of his affairs, he was engaged at Drury-lane Theatre, and appeared there in the characters of Sir Peter Teazle and Peter Simpson, on the opening night of the season of 1828-29. On this occasion, his acting evinced a considerable decline of his accustomed powers; his limbs seemed to be nearly paralysed, and his memory imperfect. He relinquished his engagement from ill-health, and lingered until the 23d of June, when he expired. He was a lover of literature, and a tolerable classical scholar. conversational talents are highly spoken of. He was the author or adapter of Guy Mannering and the Antiquary, which still keep possession of the stage, and also of the Heart of Mid-Lothian. He also wrote many songs, and annexed biogra phical sketches to a set of theatrical portraits. Whilst in Edinburgh, he was married to Miss Nasmyth, a daughter of the celebrated landscape-painter. By this lady, who has also the talent of an artist, he has left children, to whom, as well as to the player himself, some property was bequeathed by his half-brother.

NOTICES IN ZOOLOGY.

His

Effects of Discipline and Education among a Variety of Animals.-There is a little menagerie near London, which exhibits harmonious associations of such quadrupeds and birds as are naturally disposed to disagree. "John Austin, the keeper of this collection (says the compiler of the Library of Entertaining Knowledge), states that he has employed seventeen years in the business of training creatures of opposite natures to live together in content and affection. And those years have not been unprofitably employed! It is not too much to believe, that many a person who has given his halfpenny to look upon this show, may have had his mind awakened to the extraordinary effects of habit and of gentle

discipline, when he has thus seen the cat, the rat, the mouse, the hawk, the rabbet, the Guinea-pig, the owl, the pigeon, the starling, and the sparrow, each enjoying, as far as can be enjoyed in confinement, its respective modes of life, in the company of the others--the weak without fear, and the strong without the desire to injure. It is impossible to imagine any prettier exhibition of kindness than is here shown. The rabbet and the pigeon are playfully contending for a lock of hay to make up their nests; the sparrow is sometimes perched on the head of the cat, and sometimes on that of the owl, each its natural enemy; and the mice are playing about with perfect indifference to the presence either of cat, or hawk, or owl. The modes by which this man has effected this, are, first, by keeping all the creatures well fed; and, secondly, by accustoming one species to the society of the other, at a very early period of their lives. The ferocious instincts of those who prey on the weaker are never called into action; their nature is subdued to a systematic gentleness; the circumstances by which they are surrounded are favorable to the cultivation of their kindlier dispositions; all their desires and pleasures are bounded by their little cage; and, though the old cat sometimes takes a stately walk on the parapet of the bridge, he duly returns to his companions, with whom he has so long been happy, without at all thinking that he was born to devour any of them. This is an example, and a powerful one, of what may be accomplished by a proper education, which rightly estimates the force of habit, and confirms, by judicious management, that habit which is most desirable to be made a rule of conduct. The principle is the same, whether it be applied to children or to brutes."

Friendship between a Bird and a Dog. -A partridge and a spaniel were domesticated in a lady's family. The dog was an old parlor favorite who went by the name of Tom. The partridge was more recently introduced from France, and answered to the name of Bill. It was rather a dangerous experiment to place them together; for Tom was a Lively and spirited creature, very apt to torment the cats, and to bark at any object which roused his instinct. But the experiment was tried; and Bill, being very tame, did not feel much alarm at his natural enemy. They were, of course,

shy at first; but this shyness gradually wore off: the bird became less timid, and the dog less bold. The most perfect friendship was at length established between them. When the hour of dinner arrived, the partridge invariably flew on his mistress's shoulder, calling with that shrill note which is so well known to sportsmen; and the spaniel leaped about with equal ardor. One dish of bread and milk was placed on the floor, out of which the spaniel and bird fed together; and, after their social meal, the dog would retire to a corner to sleep, while the partridge would nestle between his legs, and not stir till his favorite awoke. Whenever the dog accompanied his mistress out, the bird displayed the utmost disquietude till his return; and once, when the partridge was shut up by accident during a whole day, the dog searched about the house with a mournful cry which indicated the strength of his affection. The friendship of Tom and Bill was at length fatally terminated. The beautiful little dog was stolen; and the bird from that time refused all food, and died on the seventh day, a victim to his grief."

The Spring-Bok.-This quadruped derives its name from its extraordinary springs or leaps. "In these bounds (says Mr. Burchell) the animals rise.with curved or elevated backs high into the air, generally to the height of eight feet, appearing as if about to take flight. Some of the herds moved by us almost within musket-shot, and I observed that, in crossing the beaten road, the greater number cleared it by one of those flying leaps, although, as the road was quite smooth and level with the plain, there was no necessity for their leaping over it." A peculiarity in the exterior of this animal, is the very long white hair lying flat along the middle of the back, nearly concealed by the fur on each side, except when the animal takes its great leaps, when it becomes expanded.

The migrations of the spring-boks, in numerous herds, are curious and remarkable. The following account was comnunicated by Mr. Pringle, to whom it was addressed by captain Stockenstrom, chief civil commissioner at the Cape of Good Hope.

"It is scarcely possible for a person passing over some of the extensive tracts of the interior, and admiring that elegant antelope the spring-bok, thinly scattered