The Philanthropist. SAFETY SHIPS, STEAM-BOATS, &c. There never was any suggestion for the improvement of science or morals which had not, at first, to encounter opposition or ridicule. We remember that the notion of gas-lights, for any extensive utility, was once deemed a most wild speculation; and we recollect, that when the Liverpool Floating Bath was building, many persons, and amongst them some who ought to have known better, predicted that she would sink, as they contended that it was absolutely absurd to suppose that a vessel, into which three hundred tuns of water was to be admitted, could do otherwise than go plump to the bottom. Gas-lights, however, and the Floating Batlı, have both been proved to be excellent things in their respective way. Aware, as we are, that all innovations must be thus subject to cavil or discouragement, we are not at all surprised that the plan lately suggested for preventing ships from foundering at sea, should have shared the common fate of all useful projects. One objection raised to Mr. Watson's copper tubes, independent of the expense, is, that when a vessel is lost upon a lee shore, she generally goes to pieces, and that the copper vessels would be destroyed, or sent adrift. Without making pretensions to any knowledge of seamanship, we shall venture to assert, that vessels constructed upon the plan recommended, would not be so subject to this fate as ordinary ships, and we think we can assign a very sufficient reason for the assertion. When a ship is driven on shore, in a leaky state, in a storm, the first thing the crew do is to provide for their own safety, by leaving the ship to her fate, aware, as they are, that the longer they remain on board, the greater risk they must run of being lost. Ships are, therefore, abandoned long before their timbers separate, as a hole in the bottom is a sufficient hint to the crews to take to the boats. But if a vessel were fitted up with such buoyant apparatus as has been recommended, the crew would remain on board while there was any chance of recovering her, as they would know they were safe as long as she held together. It is not violating probability to suppose, that not half the ships lost at sea are actually dashed to pieces, as one of our contemporaries imagines. Accidents from leaking, running foul of each other, and upsetting, are sufficiently numerous to entitle any plan for their prevention to our serious consideration. We have had very little personal experience of storms; but we have witnessed their effects upon our own shores, where, after violent gales of wind, we have seen the hulls of ships, which had been abandoned, remaining entire. Such vessels might, probably, have ridden out the storm had the crew remained with the ship, which they were, however, not likely to do, when under the apprehension of her foundering immediately. We think, if we could consult the requisite documents, we should find, that half the shipwrecks which have taken place might have been avoided, by the adoption of the means we have been recommending. We shall just, from recollection, advert to two or three instances, which appear to us to bear upon the subject.-The Pelican, with a great number of persons on board, was upset in our river, in the east of Williamsburgh. This discovery was communi. cated to the public by the venerable President of William and Mary College, the Rev. Bishop James Madison.(Mitchill.) year 1793, in presence of thousands of spectators from our piers. It is supposed that nearly seventy of those on board perished.-The Royal George, if we recollect aright, foundered from a similar cause.- yet, we have no authentic accounts of there having The loss of the Alert packet, and of the Comet steam-been any discoveries of a similar nature in either of the remaining states, except Florida. Fossil remains of the boat, might also be adduced as cases wherein the mammoth have been found in that part of Florida no buoyant apparatus would have prevented the cala- distinguished as the state of Louisiana. These bones were mity; as none of those vessels were much injured found at the Opelousas, on the farm of M. Nerat ;, a cart load, or more, were disinterred. in the hulls, but were sunk in consequence of beBones of this animal have been found in many different coming filled with water. parts of the island of Great Britain; as in the alluvial soil Leaving sailing vessels, however, entirely out of around London, in the county of Northampton, at Glo cester, at Trenton, near Stafford, Harwich, Norwich, in the question, it will hardly be denied that the appli- the island of Shepney, in the river Medway, in Salibuy cation of the buoyant principle would be most useful Plain, and in Flintshire in Wales, and in the north of in steam-boats, which are now almost innumerable, land.-Jameson.)-Bones of this animal have be up in Sweden; and Cuvier conjectures that the bas and are daily increasing in number. supposed giants, mentioned by the celebrated Bishop toppidan, as having been found in Norway, are the remung of the fossil elephant. Torfæus mentions a head and of this animal dug up in the island of Iceland. In Russia in Europe, in Poland, Germany, Frand Holland, and Hungary, teeth and bones of this species elephant have been found in abundance. Humb found teeth of this animal in North and South Ameri But it is in Asiatic Russia that they occur in gree abundance. Pallas says, that from the Don or Taniss, Tchutskoinoss, there is scarcely a river, the bank of wh does not afford remains of the mammoth, and these t frequently imbedded in, or covered with, alluvial scil e taining marine productions; the bones are generally persed, seldom occurring in complete skeletons; and s more rarely do we find the fleshy part of the animal p served. One of the most interesting instances on record, the preservation of the entire carcass of this animal, is g by Cuvier, as taken from a report in the supplement Journal du Nord, No. XXX, by Mr Adams, adj member of the academy at St. Petersburgh; for an a of which, the reader is politely referred to Mitchill's e of Jameson's Cuvier, p. 253. We would not excite any unnecessary panic, but it cannot be concealed, and must be known to almost every person, that if a steam-boat spring a leak which cannot be overcome by the pumps, it must founder, owing to the immense weight of the machinery; nor will it be easy to persuade us that it would not be most desirable to provide against such a catastrophe, even if attended with the sacrifice of some convenience of accommodations for passengers, and stowage for goods. Scientific Notices. Comprehending Notices of new Discoveries or Improve ments in Science or Art; including, occasionally, singular Medical Cases; Astronomical, Mechanical, Phi. losophical, Botanical, Meteorological, and Mineralogical Phenomena, or singular Facts in Natural History; Vegetation, &c.; Antiquities, &c. SKETCHES OF THE ELEMENTS OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY, Accompanied with Sketches of a New Theory of the Earth. By J. L. E. W. SHECUT.-Charleston, 1826. (Continued from our last.) Proofs of the Universality of the Remains of Extinct Animals. first in North America in which the bones of the great The soil of South Carolina appears to have been the mastodon have been discovered. Mr. Catesby gives an account of some relics of an animal supposed to be of the elephant species, dug up at Stono Swamp as early as the year 1722. And in digging the Santee Canal in the year 1795, Colonel Senf, the engineer, found several bones of this animal between eight and nine feet below the surface discovered, about four miles distant from the first.-(Dray of the earth. Again, in 1797, others of a similar kind were ton, Ramsay.) (To be continued.) Miscellanies. THE CLUBS OF LONDON. It is invariably our custom, when a work of teresting and valuable character makes its appearan the literary world, to treat our readers with a portion · it, through the medium of the Kaleidoscope. The Ch we, therefore, present our readers with the following of London appears to be a work of this description, extracts: detara ORIGIN OF THE BEEF-STEAK CLUB. Whilst Rich was employed in planning a pantom his atelier (a small room in the theatre) was almost much frequented as Canova's or Thorwaldsen's in him at his interesting labours. days. Every one seemed anxious to be admited t Amongst these several men of rank and wit; for Rich's colloquial d In Kentucky, at the Licks, which, from the circumstance were much relished. The celebrated Lord Peterbo of the extraordinary number of bones found at different then somewhat advanced in years, Hogarth, Sir J depths, from one foot to twenty feet below the surface, has Thornhill, &c. &c. were of the number. At these received the name of the Big-bone Licks. Governor he never intermitted his labours, nor his strain of faceti Clarke, at the especial request of the venerable Mr. Jeffer- remark. Upon one occasion, accident having son, in 1807, caused the soil to be extensively explored, in the Earl's coach later than usual, he found Rich's ch ed, and identified with those of the great American Mam- was two in the afternoon; when he observed the ma which numerous remains of this animal have been detect- chat so agreeable, that he was quite unconscious that moth.-(Jefferson, Mitchill.)-In Indiana, bones of the pantomime spreading a cloth, then coaxing his fire in same animal were found in July, 1817, in the east branch a clear culinary flame, and proceeding with great gra Pennsylvania, svelar remains have been discovered near steak sent up a most inviting incense, and my Lord of the White River, a stream emptying in the Wabash. In to cook his own beek-steak on his own gridiron. Bedford. In New York, at Chenango, at Goshen, the re- not resist Rich's invitation to partake of it. A furthe gion watered by the Walkill; in the county of Rockland, supply was sent for; and a bottle or two of excel 30 miles north of the city of New York; and at New An- wine from a neighbouring tavern, prolonged their discours have been found, some of the entire animal, of which the his entertainment, that, on going away, he proposed th trim, 11 miles west of the latter place, numerous bones to a late hour. But so delighted was the old Peer one in Peale's splendid Museum at Philadelphia is an ex-newing it, at the same place and hour, on the Satur ample of the species of this extinct quadruped. On the following. He was punctual to his engagement, dug up, which, according to Dr. Hayden, differs from the pleasure about town," as Mr. Bayes would cared eastern shore of Maryland, the grinder of an elephant was brought with him three or four friends," men of wit a grinders both of the African and Asiatic elephants. In and so truly festive was the meeting, that it was prope the district of Columbia, the rib of a very large animal of that a Saturday's club should be held there, whilst the the elephant species was dug out of the bank of the Poto- town remained full. A sumptuary law, even at this early In Virginia, in 1811, the remains of a mammoth period of the society, restricted the bill of fare to bit. were found on the bank of York River, about six miles steaks, and the beverage to port wine and punch. This mac. the corner stone of the Sublime Society was laid. But | Venus, Captain Thompson-or, I think it was the Eliza, | All the demons of frost, and the spirits of the storm, were the original gridiron, upon which Rich had broiled his Captain "It does not matter, Mr. Linley, what the laid by the potent spell. A charm this in these northernselitary steak, being insufficient in a short time for the ship was, or who commanded her. Pray let's have the climes which needed not the aid of superstition to enforce supernumerary worshippers in the temple of Beef and epigram.' "You shall have it presently, Mr. Moore; it. Then comes the feast, and dance, and song-and then Liberty, the relic was enshrined as one of the tutelary and but I have not yet come to it. Well, Sir, this Captain the grave reflect of the glorious occasion; and then rejoice ousehold divinities of the club. Fortunately, it escaped Brown, of the Minerva, or Capt. Thompson, of the Ve- with mirth and gladness, and gifts, on the solemn festival he fire which consumed Covent-garden a few years since, nus, was a surly, ill-behaved fellow; and used Mr. She- which commemorates the day that gave to man a Saviour nd now presents itself, encircled with its motto, and ridan, and my sister, very shamefully. They were detained-freedom to the slave'.' uspended from the ceiling, to every eye, which can spare by contrary winds, and there was not a morsel to eat or wondering glance from the beef-steak smoking before it. drink on board. So, Sir, Sheridan was determined that A person of the name of Bradshaw was, at one time, a the fellow should suffer for it ;-so he wrote an epigram ember of the Beef-steak Club. He was vain of being upon him, which is the severest thing I ever saw; it did scended from the regicide of that name. He was one for him completely." "Ay," said Moore, who was beon his favourite topic, boasting of his ancestor's ginning to be impatient-"now for the epigram." riotism, when Churchill exclaimed, "Ah, Bradshaw, be sure," continued Linley," it was the happiest hit that ft crow! The Stuarts have been amply avenged for ever was-it did not spare the fellow, I assure you."loss of Charles's head, for you have not had a head Here a pause ensued, during which the reciter of the epiour family ever since." gram was biting his lips in an apparent agony to recover it. "The epigram, the epigram, Mr. Moore-why-by G-, I have forgot the epigram!" nce, when the Fescennine license of the Beef-Steak was taken!" How you would laugh to see the junior member of the ef-Steak Clab emerging from the cellar, with half a jen bottles in a basket! I have seen Brougham emyed in this honourable diplomacy, and executing it the correctness of a butler. The Duke of Leinster, in turn, took the same duty. With regard to Brougham, st sight, you would not set him down as having a ral and prompt alacrity for the style of humour that fails amongst us. aber, and it is a remarkable instance of the peculiar But Brougham is an excellent ences of this peculiar society on the human character. took him just as the schools of philosophy, the bar, senate, had made him. Literary, forensic, and parementary habits are most intractable materials, you will to make a member of the Beef-Steaks. Yet no man imbibed more of its spirit, and he enters into its occaal gladiatorship with the greatest glee. I believe him a most sincere and benevolent being. As a public he is sometimes betrayed into acrimony; but it is he is thwarted by mean impediments, or teazed with grovelling exceptions.-But who would fetter, by se rules, the generous impulses of our nature, or bind ranoble enthusiasm to its good behaviour?-Brougham questionably a great man. How sublime was his de the other night, how lofty and commanding his ation, when he rebuked Hume for putting his pounds, Tags, and pence, into the scale against the honour and of a nation, whose honour and faith have ever been ulwarks of her greatness! and well did that rebuke Late the immeasurable distance between the moral portions of an enlarged policy, and the paltry calculaof vulgar arithmetic. Tom Moore once applied to Linley for some particulars Pecting Mr. Sheridan, whose life he was then writing. b! Mr. Moore," said he, as soon as the purpose of Visit was opened, "I am exceedingly happy to find you have undertaken the task of writing the life of brother-in-law, Mr. Sheridan, I say my brother-in(Will is minutely circumstantial in narration,)" for know that he married my sister." "I comprehend perfectly," said the other. "Oh, Mr. Moore, I must tell you an admirable epigram written by Sheridan, after his marriage, whilst it is fresh in my recollection. so poignant, and so witty, that I would not have you ni it on any account." "Now, then, let me have it," Laimed the biographer, taking out his note-book. CHRISTMAS CEREMONIES. (From an American paper.) "England was merry England, when A poor man's heart through half the year." "To At the present season, it may not be uninteresting to the The mince pie and the Christmas pie, those "favourite give it you presently, Mr. Moore;-but I must first tion the circumstance in which it originated, that you y enter completely into its spirit. Why, you must The mention of the "Christmas log" will kindle the mow, Mr. Moore, that Mr. Sheridan, just after his mar-feelings of every New Englander, as another well known age, was determined to take a trip to the Continent with feature of this joyous festival. It was in Old England the his wife, my sister. For this purpose, they took a small great indispensible, to have a "huge heaped-up, overvesel at Harwich, which was bound to Rotterdam. It heaped-up, all-attacting fire," and the larger the log, the was the Minerva, Captain Brown-stop, stop, it was the merrier the defiance which was given to the cold without. Turkish Cannon.-It is singular that in our conflicts with barbarians, or with half disciplined troops, we generally sustain a heavier loss than in our battles with veteran and well organized armies. Whether this arises from our contempt of the enemy inducing us to attack them at greater odds, or at closer quarters, or that such foes are stimulated by the fiercer passions of untamed nature, we cannot determine, but the fact is well worthy of consideration. In our battles with the Americans last war, our loss was always heavy in the extreme. Our attack on Algiers was attended with a loss of life nearly equal to any thing we had ever sustained on board of a fleet; and if we include the numbers killed on board the Russian ships at Navarino, we shall find the total number of killed and wounded to be nearly as great as in any of our battles last war. With respect to the Turks, this may arise from the extremely heavy cannon which they generally use. In our ships, and, we believe, in our batteries, we seldom use a heavier gun than a 32-pounder. No man-of-war carries any cannon of a larger calibre, but the Turks make use of even 800-pounders. When Sir John Duckworth passed the Dardanelles to attack Constantinople, in 1807, his fleet was dreadfully shattered by these immense shot. The Royal George (of 110 guns) was nearly water; another cut the mainmast of the Windsor Castle sunk by only one shot, which carried away her cutnearly in two; a shot knocked two ports of the Thunderer into one; the Repulse (74) had her wheel shot away, and ship saved but by the most wonderful exertions. One of 24 men killed and wounded by a single shot, nor was the those guns was cast in brass, in the reign of Amurat; it chamber, its breach resting against a massy stonework: was composed of two parts, joined by a screw at the the difficulty of charging it would not allow its being fired more than once; but, as a Pacha once said, that single discharge would destroy almost the whole fleet of an 1,100lb., and he loaded it with 330lb. of powder. He enemy. The Baron de Tott, to the great terror of the Turks, resolved to fire this gun. The shot weighed says, "I felt a shock like an earthquake, at the distance of eight hundred fathoms. I saw the ball divide into three pieces, and these fragments of a rock crossed the Strait, and rebounded on the mountain."-The heaviest shot which struck our ships was of granite, and weighed 800lb., and was two feet two inches in diameter. One of those huge shot, to the astonishment of our tars, stove in the whole larboard bow of the Active; and having thus crushed this immense mass of solid timber, the shot rolled ponderously aft, and brought up abreast the main hatchway, the crew standing aghast at the singular spectacle. Tom Moore, Lord Strangford, and Lady Caroline Lamb. Most of our readers may remember that, a few years The following answer to our correspondent's query will, ago, it was very currently reported that Lady Caroline we trust, be intelligible-Suppose the black to have ad- Lamb had, in a moment of passion, struck down one of wanced his pawn to E 4, and the white moves his pawn her pages with a stool. When Tom Moore was told of from F2 to F4; the black may permit it to remain on this natural for a literary lady than to double down a page." this by Lord Strangford, he said, "Oh, nothing is more square, or take it in its passage, by placing his pawn upon. I would rather," replied his Lordship, "advise Lady Caroline to turn over a new leaf." relax our efforts during the week; and if we do not re it in time for our next publication, we will readily the postage from Hereford, if our correspondent will f us with a second copy. MELROSE ABBEY.-The trip of Eupolis shall appear in our publication. The Sailor's Funeral, by J. G. R. Is reserved for next week. BAGATELLES-If our correspondent Adolescens has access our third volume, and will turn to pages 208 and 213 will find a little engraving, which explains the manter which five shillings or sixpences may be so placed that th shall all be in contact. It is an excellent little problem Inconnu's communication is of too political a cast for Kaleidoscope. The letter of T. R. of Alnwick shall be introduced in our Sophia is respectfully informed that we have received answer to her query, which we shall publish next week It is from Theon, whose prescription is very rational, likely to prove successful. Let or fac Printed, published, and sold, every Tuesday, by B. SMIT and Co., Clarendon-buildings, Lord-street. OR, Literary and Scientific Mirror. 66 UTILE DULCI." his familiar Miscellany, from which all religious and political matters are excluded, contains a variety of original and selected Articles; comprehending LITERATURE, CRITICISM, MEN and MANNERS, AMUSEMENT, elegant EXTRACTS, POETRY, ANECDOTES, BIOGRAPHY, METEOROLOGY, the DRAMA, ARTS and SCIENCES, WIT and SATIRE, FASHIONS, NATURAL HISTORY, &c. forming & handsome ANNUAL VOLUME, with an INDEX and TITLE-PAGE. Persons in any part of the Kingdom may obtain this Work from London through their respective Booksellers. LONDON-Sherwood and Blackburn-T. Rogerson; Clithero-H. Whalley; Co. Booksellers; E. Marl-Bradford-J. Stanfield; Colne-H. Earnshaw; borough, Ave-Maria-lane; Bristol-Hillyard & Mor-Congleton-S. Yates; T.C.Smith, 36, St. James- gan; J. Norton; Street. Burnley-T. Sutcliffe; Burslem-S. Brougham; R. Timmis : Bury-J. Kay; Carlisle-HK. Snowden; mingham-R. Wrightson; Chester-R. Taylor; on J.Kell; Brandwood; Chorley-C. Robin borne, Derb.-W. Hoon; Mo-T.Cunningham; doa-S. Bassford; b. 392.-Vol. VIII. The Traveller. Denbigh-M. Jones; Glasgow-Robertson and Co.; Macclesfield-P. Hall; TUESDAY, JANUARY 1, 1828. Prescot-A. Ducker; Ulverston-J. Soulby; St.Helen's-I.Sharp; Stockport-T. Claye; son, Bookseller; Wrexham-J. Painter; York-W.Alexander & Son PRICE 3d. the impenetrable darkness of the more retiring parts; of the tracery. It does, indeed, amply verify Sir ELROSE ABBEY AND THE EILDON HILLS. the Gothic windows, or illuminated the higher parts "If thou wouldst view fair Melrose right, TO THE EDITOR. SIR,-Who has perused the works of the celebrated thor of my motto, and not eagerly desired to behold le reality of that magnificent scene which he has so ithfully, so beautifully described? Who has not nged to behold the shafted oriels, and the ivy1.antled towers of the once fair abbey of Melrose, ich the pens of a hundred authors, the pencils of undred artists, have combined to depict as the 1nd central point of British architectural beauty, the noblest remnant of monastic splendour, and finest specimen of modern ruins? What a field there presented for the antiquarian to pursue his searches amongst the mouldering arches and dilalated columns, beneath whose bases repose the les of the great and noble,-the haughty abbots, anciently exercised almost unlimited sway thin these very walls, and some of Scotland's ptered kings! It was with feelings similar to these that I apoached the village of Melrose, at the close of a try day, just as the breeze of evening was beginto dispel the unpleasant, oppressive heat, to tich I had been exposed as I sauntered slowly along unshaded path, under the scorching beams of a ridian sun. On my left, the river Tweed wound ently through the rich and fertile plain, whilst my ew, on the right, was bounded by the three peaks of he Eildon Hills. Before me lay Melrose, in all its eauty, with its venerable abbey just appearing above trees, and behind lay numerous gentlemen's ats, and amongst the rest, Abbotsford, the princely ansion of Sir Walter Scott. I had one companion, and on our arrival at the illage our party was augmented by another indifidual. After taking some refreshment, our trio set ut for the abbey, and were admitted by the person who usually shows it to strangers. We entered at a Lofty gateway, and high as our expectations had been raised, they were not disappointed, but greatly surpassed. Though we did not see it by moonlight, yet we saw it at a time which I should imagine to surpass the most lovely night view. There were not, it is true, the strong contrast of light and shade, the silvery refulgence of the projecting buttresses, and of the building with an effulgence which amply compensated for the absence of the "Queen of the starry night." It had, moreover, the advantage that we were able to observe and examine the most minute beauties, which, in the other case, would have been concealed from us. To see Melrose Abbey in its most picturesque point of view, visit it "When the broken arches are black in night, but to see it as a traveller ought to see it; to be able to examine its minor beauties; to view it with an antiquarian eye, and, at the same time, to admire the solemn loveliness of the scene,-visit it when it is enlightened by the last rays of a cloudless summer's sun, and when the brilliance of day has, in some measure, yielded to the more sober tints of evening. "Spreading herbs and flowerets bright, Nor herb, nor floweret glistened there, But was carved in the cloister arches as fair." After spending a considerable time in this fascinating spot, we adjourned to the house of the guide, who was a very intelligent man, and seemed well acquainted with all the local traditions. He had drawn and etched many different views of the Abbey, and was busily engaged in fitting up a room with casts of the most remarkable pieces of sculpture. We asked him if he had been brought up to the arts-but although the question was more than once repeated, he always contrived to evade it. This led us, afterwards, to make some inquiry concerning him, and then the mystery of his reserve was unravelled—he had been brought up a tailor. He foolishly considered that as a disgrace which should have been his proudest boast, that he had raised himself, by his industry and genius, to a more intellectual employment than the one he had originally followed. The next morning I resolved to attempt the ascent of the Eildon Hills; and, accordingly, set out alone The first object which attracted our attention on before breakfast, and passing over a small burn, by entering was an uncouth figure of stone kneeling at means of a piece of slender lattice-work, serving for the head of a tomb, which, by a reference to our a bridge, I entered into a thick wood, and soon ar cicerone, we learned, marked the burial-place of the rived at a small green patch of open ground, but far-famed warlock, Michael Scott. We then passed surrounded by trees. Crossing this hastily, and on to the high altar, which now has little to attract plunging again into the wood, I soon found myself notice, since, stripped of all its magnificent embellish on some arable land on the side of the mountain, over ments, it presents nothing to the spectator but damp which there was a footpath leading upwards. After mouldering walls. All along this side of the build-leaving the fields I came to where one loses sight of ing runs a series of aisles, separated by walls, in which all tracks up the mountain-and here I paused awhile are one or two small apertures, sufficiently large, how-to survey the beautiful scene behind me, for it was, ever, for the body of a man to pass through. These indeed, one of the most lovely I ever beheld. In the are, or rather were, distinguished by different names, distance I had a view of Dryburgh, with its ruined and the last is called the Silverless Aisle. The object Abbey and its enchanting variety of wood and water; of this arrangement was, that penitents had to pass nearer to me, and at the foot of the hill, lay Melrose, through the apertures in succession, giving a contri- with its gray ruins illuminated by the beams of the bution at each; so that the last one, either from the rising sun; and on the other side of the Tweed was individual giving up all he had remaining, or else the village of Gattonside, which appeared like a vast from his having generally little or nothing to give, orchard, laden with fruit—and, occasionally, a little received its appropriate title. But I shall not at-whitewashed cottage, just peeping from amongst the tempt to enter on a description of this magnificent ruin, though I cannot forbear alluding to the beautiful sculpture in the cloisters. There is a narrow border, running all round, divided into square compartments, and in each of these are carved a trefoil, a quatrefoil, scallop shells, or some similar ornament; and though there are hundreds, I may almost say thousands, of these divisions, yet there are no two patterns alike, and so exquisite is the workmanship, that straws may be easily interlaced with the figures trees. My path had hitherto been comparatively easy, but now it became much more difficult: my progress was continually interrupted by bushes of furze, and I frequently encountered extensive beds of loose stones, which, sliding from under me as I advanced, caused me much inconvenience. Often was I carried several feet downwards by this treacherous footing, and as often I re-ascended, till, at length, having surmounted every obstacle which opposed my course, I triumph antly stood on the summit of the highest of the rated the vessels. Hardly could the damaged galleys After remaining on the summit for some time, 1 commenced my descent, which I performed without difficulty, and very soon arrived again at the village EUPOLIS. of Melrose. The Bouquet. "I have here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own but the thread that ties them." THE GHOST SEER. waves. Translated and abridged from the German of the cele-accomplished, whether Antonia became the wife of Lo 64 brated Schiller. (Continued from our last.) "The affair was as follows:"Lorenzo, being the youngest son of the Marquis, had been destined for the church. The family estates were to devolve to the eldest. Jeronymo, which was the name of the latter, had spent many years on his travels, and had returned to his country about seven years prior to the event which I am about to relate, in order to celebrate his marriage with the only daughter of a neighbouring Count. This marriage had been determined on by the parents during the infancy of the children, in order to unite the very large fortunes of the two houses. But, though this agreement was made by the two families, without consulting the hearts of the parties concerned, the latter had mutually engaged their faith in secret. Jeronymo del M and Antonia C-- had always been brought up together, and the little constraint imposed on two children, whom their parents were already accustomed to regard as united, soon produced between them a connexion of the tenderest kind. The congeniality of their tempers cemented this intimacy; and, in riper years, it matured insensibly into love. An absence of four years, far from cooling this passion, had only served to inflame it; and Jeronymo returned to the arms of his intended bride, as faithful and as ardent as if they had never been separated. The raptures of this re-union had not yet subsided, and the preparations for the happy day were advancing with the utmost zeal and activity, when Jeronymo disappeared. He used frequently to pass the afternoon in a summer-house, which commanded a prospect of the sea; and was accustomed to take the diversion of sailing on the water. One day, when he was at his favourite retirement, it was observed that he remained a much longer time than usual without returning, and his friends began to be very uneasy on his account. Boats were despatched after him. Vessels were sent to sea in quest of him; no person had seen him. None of his servants could have attended him, for none of them were absent. Night came on, and he did not appear. The next morning dawned; the day passed,-the evening succeeded;-Jeronymo came not. Already they had begun to give themselves up to the most melancholy conjectures, when the news arrived that an Algerine pirate had landed the preceding day on that coast, and carried off several of the inhabitants. Two galleys, ready equipped, were immediately ordered to sea. The old Marquis himself embarked in one of them, to attempt the deliverance of his son, at the peril of his own life. On the third day they perceived the corsair. The wind was favourable; they were just about to overtake him, and had even approached him so near that Lorenzo, who was in one of the galleys, fancied he saw, upon the deck of the adversary's ship, a signal made by his brother; when a sudden storm sepa "He saw that his name might be perpetuated by acting with a little injustice, in consenting to favour his younger son, at the expense of the elder. The fulfilment of his agreement with Count C- required only the change of a name; for the object of the two families was equally renzo or of Jeronymo. The faint probability of the latter's appearing again weighed but little against the certain and pressing danger of the total extinction of the family, and the old Marquis, who felt the approach of death every day more and more, ardently wished to die free, at least, from this inquietude. though at the expense of his love. By his efforts al was the unfortunate victim protected against the arbitra proceedings of the rest of the family. But his er deare were not finally successful. Every victory he gained his passion, rendered him more worthy of Antoria: the disinterestedness with which he refused her, left without an apology for resistance. "Thus were affairs situated when the Chevalier "Lorenzo alone, who was to be principally benefited "Two months were passed in this manner at the It is all over with me,' said he, I must begone; I cannot support it any longer.' "What is the matter with you, Chevalier? Wh befallen you?' Oh! this terrible passion!' said he, starting re chair, I have combatted it like a man; I can resist longer.' And whose fault is it but yours, my dear Chevali Are they not all in your favour? Your father? relations?" "And Antonia ?" said the Prince. "You tell us nothing of her. Could she so calmly submit to her fate? I cannot suppose it." Antonia," answered the Sicilian, "experienced the most violent struggle between duty and inclination, between dislike and admiration. The disinterested generosity of a brother affected her. She felt herself forced to esteem a person whom she could never love. Her heart, torn by contrary sentiments, felt the bitterest distress. But her repugnance to the Chevalier seemed to increase, in the same degree as his claims upon her esteem augmented. Lorenzo perceived, with heartfelt sorrow, the sacred grief that consumed her youth. A tender compassion insensibly assumed the place of that indifference, with which, till then, he had been accustomed to consider her; but this treacherous sentiment quickly deceived him, and an ungovernable passion began, by degrees, to shake the steadi. ness of his virtue: a virtue which, till then, had been unequalled. 666 My father, my relations! What are they to me! want not a union of force, but of inclination. Have I a rival? Alas! what a rival! Perhaps a dead de Oh! let me go. Let me go to the end of the wo must find my brother.' "What! after so many unsuccessful attempts, you still any hope?' 666 'Hope! Alas, no! It has long since vanished heart, but it has not in hers. Of what conseque my sentiments? Can I be happy while there re gleam of hope in Antonia's heart? Two words, my would end my torments. But it is in vain. My must continue to be miserable, till eternity shall break long silence, and the grave shall speak in my, beball' Is it then a state of certainty that would ret de p happy ?' "Happy! Alas! I doubt whether I shall ever ag be happy. But uncertainty is, of all others, the dreadful pain.' "After a short interval of silence, he continued, with emotion less violent, If he could but see my tormers Surely a constancy which renders his brother miserat cannot add to his happiness. Can it be just, that the li should suffer so much for the sake of the dead; tha should fruitlessly pine for an object which Jeronymo, no longer enjoy? If he knew the pangs I suffer, sad concealing his face, while the tears streamed from his era, yes, perhaps, he himself would conduct her to my art But is there no possibility of gratifying your wishes "He started. What do you say, my friend?" "Less important occasions than the present,' said I, He, however, still obeyed the dictates of generosity, middle of the seventeenth century, by the Abbe de Fark |