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FAMILIAR LECTURES ON USEFUL SCIENCES.

FAMILIAR LETTERS ON PHYSIOGNOMY.
[Continued from Page 99.]

LETTER VII.

mouth-pleasures of physiognomical observa shall say of this man that he must be a great coxtions-vanity of the physiognomist. When I comb, they will tell me it is a calumny, and that I am fond of teasing; and when I tell them to mistrust such a face, they will exclaim that I am the only one whom they ought not to trust.—I lowed this sentence, to which the hearers seemed must make up my mind to this". A pause folstand it. The reader went on." This man has to affix a deep meaning as they did not underbeen a soldier." Oh! this is for me, cried out my accuser.

the banners of Mars for Vulcan's service." "He "I believe he has left That is a lie, begging your pardon, Captain; says you are a deserter,' exclaimed the officer.

BEFORE I proceed to give you any further instructions relative to the meaning of the different features of the human face, I will relate to you what once happened to me during my abode in France. When the whole population of Paris overflowed into the Champs Elysées and the Bois de Boulogne, on the road to Longchamps, I was carried along by the tide, as well as the wish of studying the numberless countenances with which I should meet. I took my post against a tree by the side of the way at the entrance of the wood, and glanced over the crowds that rolled before me. I was provided with a pocket-bock and a pencil, and had already taken a few notes, when I was struck with the physiog-after fighting for ten years, which is five more than nomy of a man who had stopped, like me, to gaze at the passengers. I fixed my eyes upon sion of quitting the army, and am now an honest the time prescribed, I have obtained the permis him without perceiving that he also observed me, smith in St. Sepulchre's-strect.' and was offended at the marked attention I paid I begged to be allowed to speak, and said, that him. But when he saw me taking out my by the same reason as the officer's profession pocket-book, and writing in it, he lost all pati-ordered him to shed his blood for his country, ence, and rushing towards me, took hold of my the smith's trade to beat red hot iron, my occuarm, and asked me roughly to follow him. Sur-pation led me to observe physiognomies The prised at the vehemence of his action, and awed features of this honest man, I added, struck me by the consciousness of being a foreigner, I could because they still wear a warlike cast, heightened not help obeying him, and was hurried towards by the hale complexion which the heat and vathe nearest watch-house. The dark and threat-pours of the coals have spread over them; and I ening looks which my companion cast upon me judged he was a smith from the blackness of his made me think of the bloody times of the revo-hands, caused by holding iron, the dead colour Jution, and I wished myself in England, far from of his eyes, and the bent of his body, proceeding the grasp of oppression. from the constant habit of blowing and beating the red hot metal.

The firm undaunted voice with which I pronounced this explanation of my conduct answered my expectations; I was looked upon as an oracle, and indeed the bench upon which I stood, and the smoke of tobacco which rose around ine, imitated pretty exactly the Sybil's tripod and the

I held my pocket-book, and pencil in my hand, by the express order of my conductor; who, as soon as we reached the watch-house, enquired for the commanding officer, and accused me of having impudently looked him in the face for nearly half an hour, and after that to have written. At the same time he tore my book from me and gave it to the officer; who, not suf-vapours with which she was surrounded. Every ficiently skilled in the art of reading, or too proud to condescend to examine me himself, told the corporal to peruse aloud its contents. When I saw what was the matter ny fears vanished away, and I dared to smile, which irritated both my accuser and my judge, and I was forbidden to smile. Silence was called for, and the lecture thus began:—“A banker-a crooked

hand clapped my praise, and every one wished to have the meaning of his features explained. At last, after having satisfied them all, I asked the officer the permission of returning home; and he politely offered to send two soldiers with me to see me safe, which I refused. Then bidding him adieu, I glided away among the crowd, but not so skilfully as to evade the search of the smith,

who this time shook my hand heartily, begged
my pardon, and left me with this compliment
"You are a famous man!"

If any of your friends still say that there is no truth in the science of physiognomy, show them the preceding adventure, which really happened to me, and laugh, as I do, at their vain and baseless objections. The next time you hear from

me, I will at least gratify your curiosity, and un-
fold the secret value which nature has stamped
upon every feature, and almost every lineament,
of that sublime and low, wise and foolish, mo-
dest and conceited being-man.
E. R.

[To be continued.]

CULINARY RESEARCHES.

[Continued from Page 105.]

OF CEREMONIES AT TABLE.

ALL ceremony should be banished among epicures, especially at table. This is a truth, which we shall never cease to repeat; the reason is not difficult to define. In the first place, when epicurism is thoroughly established among people who meet for the first time, a close intimacy soon succeeds, for no formality can long exist between real lovers of the table. A similitude of tastes is ever acknowledged the best basis for friendship to rest on; real epicures also are seldom known to quarrel; they leave coolness, and dissentions to lovers, and live together like true children of Epicurus.

It has also been clearly proved that ceremony at table is always detrimental to an entertainment, for while superfluous compliments are passing, the viands are not improving. However as they are not yet entirely banished at the hour of dinner, we think it necessary to say something on the subject, and to lay down a few instructions, which may perhaps reconcile civility with epicurism; and we are very desirous that they should be universally adopted, as we are certain of their suiting every kind of appetite, from the greatest to the smallest.

He who said that exactness was the sublimity of fools, was certainly far from a man of sense. We on the contrary deem it a virtue, which all those who know the value of time must possess, and as for fouls we shall not honour them so far as to range them in that class. An epicure is, or ought to be, a punctual man, for it is easy to prove that of all uncivil acts, that of making a dinner wait is the greatest. An affair, let it be of ever so much consequence, may be put off for a few hours; but a joint at the fire, a stew-pan on the stove, or a pie in the oven, must only remain a stated time, and if exceeded, they must dry up, and be infallibly spoiled without any remedy.

Then the epicure, and all those who aspire to this noble appellation, should repair to a feast

exactly at the hour which the invitation mentions; but it is the Amphitryon's duty also to be very precise, and to arrange it so that the first course may be on the table exactly fifteen minutes after the time mentioned.

It is of importance here to make an observation respecting the various manners of announcing the hour of a dinner. There exist in Lon|| don three ways of interpreting it, which it is of service to be acquainted with, so as not to arrive neither too early nor too late. Thus, when it is marked on the invitation five o'clock, it always means six; five o'clock precisely, half past five; and dinner on the table at five, bears its own meaning. Attending to this invariable rule, we shall never be deceived, and never spoil an entertainment. The first salutations among epicures should be laconic, and instead of the usual question, How do you do? should be substituted, how is your appetite to-day? The most general rule is, half an hour after the time mentioned, for the butler to enter and announce dinner.

Then he who is placed nearest the door, should silently lead the way to the dining-room, followed in procession by the rest, without allowing any thing to make them halt even for an instant; the Amphitryon should close the march, to accelerate those who are inclined to loiter.

Anecdotes, maxims, and reflections, interspersed with principles of politeness, and good living.

An epicure, really worthy of that name, so often usurped by those who have no right to it, may be always distinguished at table, because he never fails to take his soup boiling hot. Happy he who can boast of a palate which combines delicacy with strength to withstand the burning heat!

It is a received maxim that steel should never approach fish; as soon as it makes its appearance on the table, gold and silver are the only metals worthy of dissecting it,

The greatest pain you can inflict on an epicure is to interrupt him in the exercise of his jaws. Thus it is greatly transgressing against good breeding to visit a man when he is eating. "Tis interfering with his enjoyments, and preventing him from reasoning with his mouthfuls.

It is scarcely less uncivil to arrive an invited guest to a dinner, when the company have taken their seats; when this happens the person should refrain from entering, even should he be compelled to fast the remainder of the day as a punish ment for this want of punctuality.

A real epicure never makes himself be waited for.

A master of a house ought to be well acquainted with the principles of the art of carving. This in times past formed a prominent feature in the education of well bred people; and formerly a carving master, was as common as a dancing

master.

The Germans in this respect possess a great advantage over us. With them it is the butler who always carves; as soon as a dish appears on

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the table he removes it to the side-board, and cuts it up with inconceivable quickness and dexterity; he then hands it round the table, and each person serves himself according to his taste. This is what may be justly denominated a confortable repast.

The first study of an Amphitryon when st | table, is to be well acquainted with the state of each guest's plate; it is a constellation, on which his eyes should be incessantly fixed; his first duty then is to keep them always well replenished, as well as when the cloth is removed the glass well filled. H should ever hold emptiness in detestation.

Digestion is the affair of the stomach, and indigestion that of the faculty.

The most delicate morsel of a roast fowl is the wing; that of a boiled one, the leg, especially if it be white and plump. Some people are partial to the rumps of poultry, in partridges the breast is unanimously esteemed the most favourite part. [To be continued.]

ON THE ART OF DRAWING.

[Continued from Page 149. Vol. II.]

this work by the universal approbation with which it has been received. But the public has

other thought or design, but to make viewsunder correction, to make money; in which objects are introduced or omitted ad libitum, distant hillocks are elevated into mountains, approximate mole-hills are magnified to magnificence; in which lights and shadows, impossible in nature, are performed in print, to entertain or mislead the uninformed, and to divert or offend all that know any thing of the matter. This is a curious but certain fact; but shall such representations depreciate the merit of a genuine copy of nature,

SOME wise artists are truly ingenious in, The public opinion has stamped a just value on screening any deficiency which the hurry of business may have occasioned; liberties from this cause are often taken bordering on licentious-likewise encouraged publications made with no ness. A little caution is requisite in producing views of well-known places, but scenes from remote countries give ample scope for this species of ingenuity. Who will travel to India to ascertain the truth of a drawing? But let it here be remembered, to the eternal honour of the late Captain Cooke, that the drawings made under his direction for illustrating the narrative of his voyage, the engravings from which are a national ornament, he carefully compared with the objects delineated, from the precise points in which they were taken; nor would he suffer the intro-of a legitimate work of art? forbid it taste, science, duction or alteration of any object, however it genius! Let the ingenious youth, by patient might have been insisted that it would assist the assiduity, labour to acquire that knowledge which general or particular effect, but such as were ab- will enable him to copy faithfully, not servilely, solutely on the spot. Captain Cooke was no the features of nature. Where then shall he picture maker, no modern draughts-man, he had begin? to what prime object shall we direct his not been initiated, else what glorious opportuni- attention? You have described the beauties of ties for introducing accompaniments that must nature as so pleasing and universal, that if we have improved these scenes to the most consum- walk into the fields we shall meet with innumer mate idea of the truly picturesque. Who wouldable objects to draw from; true, but their mulvisit Otaheite, or Owyhee, to examine that tiplicity and variety render it impossible for a scenery, which might so easily have been pro-learner to copy them, without having previously duced at the small expence of truth and reality? studied, and made himself well acquainted with

the artificial methods of representing them. The student must copy drawings made from these objects with diligent perseverance, till he acquires a correct eye, and a free, firm, masterly hand, before he can make his pencil translate the language of nature. Look over the port folio, and select some simple subject; copy it carefully, closely, and repeatedly. Here is a simple scene; that porch of an ancient temple, with overhanging trees, a distant maill, and still more distant view of Tivoli ;-delightful, nothing can be more beautiful, more simple. Pause a moment; consider that is a picture, a composition, a Claude. Can you conceive you could make such a pic ture before you knew how to draw any of the parts? Can your school-fellow, who has not learned subtraction, multiplication, and division, work a sum in the rule of three? Thus, it should seem, a child may be convinced that it is proper for him to begin with those objects which are the least intricate, complex, and difficult; but it has been asserted by some whose taste and genius are universally acknowledged, that the readiest way to improve a scholar is to set before him excellent and difficult drawings for his imitation. That they ought to be good, that is correct, must be admitted; but not difficult, that is, not complex. The argument for this mode is highly ingenious, and merits consideration. The following is penned solely from memory, and by no means does justice to the acumen of the thoughts, but will serve, though imperfectly, to convey the ideas entertained by some intimately conversant with every topic of the arts.

To the uninformed and uninstructed every subject must be equally difficult, for we will suppose him entirely ignorant of every subject, considered as an object for imitation. Emulation will impel him to exert his utmost efforts to produce a good resemblance of his example, and

every seeming difficulty will soon be overcome with the instruction of his master. The scholar will then feel that satisfaction which the ingenious mind enjoys from the acquisition of some useful discovery, or from surmounting some formidable obstacle; consequently every subsequent trial will be made with greater facility, and the progress of his improvement will keep pace with the excellence of the subject proposed; whereas by fixing the youthful attention to regular figures, and making him go through the drudgery of copying things that produce him no entertainment, the genius is cramped, the mind is disgusted with the pursuit, and no benefit can be derived from all the labour and expence.

Thus far in favour of the above argument, and this method undoubtedly may succeed with those who, before they receive instruction, exhibit a quick conception, and produce commendable copies by their own unassisted endeavours; but no such method will suit the general class of learners, nor enable them to proceed in any thing like an easy path, to gain such a tincture of the principles of drawing as will sink deep into the memory, or be found useful, and tending towards improvement in their future progress. Let it be considered how many particulars, each different from the other, are requisite to be known to produce a picture even the most simple. A cottage cannot be correctly drawn without some little idea of proportion and perspective; the trees around it demand a different kind of study, and cannot be executed at all without considerable practice. The water reflecting every form inverted to the eye, the road leading through the wood, the distant glimpse of the country, and the broken masses that occupy the fore ground of the piece, each of these is an object that requires a peculiar kind of knowledge.

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ELLEN. AN ELEGY.

DEEP thunder in peals roll'd in dreadful succession,

Blue sulphureous lightning illumin'd the sky, When Ellen, the victim of sad indiscretion, Fled swift o'er the heath, for no cover was nigh.

Forsaking the arms of her titled seducer,

She hasten'd, yet dreaded her parents to meet; No danger could tempt, no persuasion induce her To rest, till forgiveness she'd begg'd at their feet.

Alas! hapless Ellen! too late's the endeavour! Too long you've neglected their pardon to crave!

Heart-broke by your flight, you have lost them for ever!

Their sorrows are hush'd in the cold darksome grave!

But who to thine ear shall unfold the sad tidings? What tongue will but falter the tale to impart ? Ah! how wilt thou bear the rude scorn and the chidings

Of those who can't feel for the deep-wounded heart?

May the pow'r you've offended accept your contrition,

And strengthen the virtue which dawns in your breast,

May his goodness relieve your unhappy condition, And soon in the tomb may your woes be at rest! As despairing she wander'd, alone, unprotected, How throbb'd her sad heart as she drew near their door!

At that instant a flash, by Heav'n's mercy directed, To earth struck her down, and she never rose more!

THE SICK PLANTER AND HIS SLAVE.

A PLANTER, near Jamaica town,

Was sick beyond the art of healing; He was a man of high renown,

And rich in every thing-but feeling.

Vasa, his slave, a faithful lad,

Was somewhat in his master's graces;
And, as one day the fool look'd sad,

He took him to his kind embraces.
Quoth he "Good fellow, I've a thought
To leave thee free, with store of money."
Blacky the notion quickly caught,

And sobb'd-"Sweet massa, tank you honey." "And when you die, that you may rest "Near him whose bounty thus conferr'd is, "I'll have it in my will exprest,

"That in my vault your corpse interr'd is."

"Oh; my good massa-never care,"

The slave return'd-" Me no disgrace you; "Me satisfy de gold to share:

"Your own relations me give place to." "How!" said the Planter in a pet,

Trembling, the boy replied, "Dear massa, Me fear old Devil may forget,

And, 'stead of you-may take poor Vasa."

AURELIA AND THE SPIDER. THE muslin torn-from tears of grief, In vain Aurelia sought relief; In sighs and plaints she pass'd the day, The tatter'd frock neglected lay. While busied at the weaving trade, A Spider heard the sighing maid; And kindly stopping, in a trice Thus offer'd (gratis) his advice :"Turn, little girl, behold in me, "A stimulus to industry;

"Campare your woes, my love, with mine, "And tell me who should most repine? "This morning, e'er you had left your room, "The chambermaid's remorseless broom, "In one sad moment that destroyed, "To build which thousands were employed; "The shock was great, but as my life "I sav'd in the relentless strife, "I knew lamenting was in vain, "So smiling went to work again; "By constant work, a day or more, "My little mansion will restore; "And if each tear that you have shed "Had been a needle-full of thread"If every sigh of sad despair "Had been a stitch, with proper care, "Clos'd would have been the luckless rent, "Nor thus the day have been mispent."

ODE TO MISS M. A-
OH! Marianne! in amorous pain,
With spirit wild and glowing vein,
I've languish'd on thy throbbing breast,
And look'd and sigh'd my soul to rest.
Full often there in dreams of bliss
I've snatch'd a fond unconscious kiss,
'Till the ripe lips of her I lov'd
Against my own in union mov'd,
Then rousing from my trance, o'erjoy'd,
Again I've press'd, again I've toy'd!

Oh! Marianne! those hours have pass'd,
Like scatter'd leaves on autumn blast!
No love-beam looks invite me now,
But sullen frowns invest thy brow.

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