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well fitted for the propagation of this fearful report. The whole of the people were impressed, on hearing the story, with a feeling of undefined awe, mixed with horror. The back of a tall figure, in dark long clothes, seen but for a moment! There was a picturesque indistinctness in the description, which left room for the imagination; taken in conjunction, too, with the moan heard at first by the old woman on the stair, and the demise of the sick woman at the very time, it was truly startling. To add to the panic, a report arose next day, that the figure had been seen on the preceding evening, by different persons, flitting about various stairs and alleys, always in the shade, and disappearing immediately after being first perceived. An idea began to prevail that it was the image of Death-Death, who had thus come in his impersonated form, to a city which seemed to have been placed so peculiarly under his dominion, in order to execute his office with the greater promptitude. It was thought, if so fantastic a dream may be assigned to the thinking faculty, that the grand destroyer, who, in ordinary times is invisible, might, perhaps, have the power of rendering himself palpable to the sight in cases where he approached his victims, under circumstances of peculiar horror; and this wild imagination was the more fearful, inasmuch as it was supposed that, with the increase of the mortality, he would become more and more distinctly visible, till, perhaps, after having dispatched all, he would burst forth in open triumph, and roam at large throughout a city of desolation.

This

the eastward, namely, Halkerston's Wynd.
house was, at the time we speak of, crammed full of
valuable goods, plate, &c. which had been deposited in
the provost's hands by many of his afflicted fellow-citi-
zens, under the impression that, if they survived, he was
honest enough to restore them unimpaired, and, if other-
wise, he was worthy to inherit them. His daughter,
who had been seized before it was found possible to re-
move her from the town, lay in a little room at the back
of the house, which, besides one door opening from the
large staircase in the front, had also a more private entry
communicating with the narrower and obsolete turnpike
behind. At that time, little precaution was taken any
where in Scotland about the locking of doors. To have
the door simply closed, so that the fairies could not enter,
was in general considered sufficient, as it is at the present
day in many remote parts. In Edinburgh, during the
time of the plague, the greatest indifference to security of
this sort prevailed. In general, the doors were left un-
locked from within, in order to admit the cleansers, or
any charitable neighbour who might come to minister
to the bed-rid sick. This was not exactly the case in
Sir John Smith's house; for the main-door was scrupu-
lously locked, with a view to the safety of the goods com-
mitted to his charge. Nevertheless, from neglect, or
from want of apprehension, the posterior entrance was
afterwards found to have been not so well secured.

The Barbary physician had administered a potion to his patient soon after his admission into the house. He It happened, on the second day after the rise of this po- knew that symptoms either favourable or unfavourable pular fancy, that an armed ship, of a very singular con- would speedily appear, and he therefore resolved to restruction, and manned by a crew of strangely foreign-main in the room in order to watch the result. About looking men, entered Leith harbour. It was a Barbary rover; but the crew showed no intention of hostility to the town of Leith, though at the present pass it would have fallen an easy prey to their arms, being quite as much afflicted with the pestilence as its metropolitan neighbour. A detachment of the crew, comprising one who appeared to be the commander, immediately landed, and proceeded to Edinburgh, which they did not scruple to enter. They enquired for the provost, and, on being conducted to the presence of that dignitary, their chief disclosed their purpose in thus visiting Edinburgh, which was the useful one of supplying it in its present distress with a cargo of drugs, approved in the East for their efficacy against the plague, and a few men who could undertake to administer them properly to the sick. The provost heard this intelligence with overflowing eyes; for, besides the anxiety he felt about the welfare of the city, he was especially interested in the health of his daughter, and only child, who happened to be involved in the common calamity. The terms proposed by the Africans were somewhat exorbitant. They demanded to have the half of the wealth of those whom they restored to health. But the provost told them that he believed many of the most wealthy citizens would be glad to employ them on these terms; and, for his own part, he was willing to sacrifice any thing he had, short of his salvation, for the behalf of his daughter. Assured of at least the safety of their persons and goods, the strangers drew from their ship a large quantity of medicines, and began that very evening to attend as physicians, those who chose to call them in. The captain-a man in the prime of life, and remarkable amongst the rest for his superior dress and bearing-engaged himself to attend the provost's daughter, who had now nearly reached the crisis of the distemper, and hitherto had not been expected to survive.

The house of Sir John Smith, the provost of Edinburgh, in the year 1645, was situated in the Cap-andFeather close, an alley occupying the site of the present North Bridge. The bottom of this alley being closed, there was no thoroughfare or egress towards the North Loch; but the provost's house possessed this convenience, being the tenement which closed the lower extremity, and having a back-door that opened upon an alley to

midnight, as he sat in a remote corner of the room, looking towards the bed upon which his charge was extended, while a small lamp burned upon a low table between, he was suddenly surprised to observe something like a dark cloud, unaccompanied by any noise, interpose itself slowly and gradually between his eyes and the bed. He at first thought that he was deceived,—that he was beginning to fall asleep,—or that the strange appearance was occasioned by some peculiarity of the light, which, being placed almost directly between him and the bed, caused him to see the latter object very indistinctly. He was soon undeceived by hearing a noise-the slightest possible-and perceiving something like motion in the illdefined lineaments of the apparition. Gracious heaven! thought he, can this be the angel of death hovering over his victim, preparing to strike the mortal blow, and ready to receive the departing soul into the inconceivable recesses of its awful form? It almost appeared as if the cloud stooped over the bed for the performance of this task. Presently, the patient uttered a half-suppressed sigh, and then altogether ceased the regular respirations, which had hitherto been monotonous and audible throughout the room. The awe-struck attendant could contain himself no longer, but permitted a sort of cry to escape him, and started to his feet. The cloud instantly, as it were, rose from its inclined posture over the bed, turned hastily round, and, in a moment contracting itself into a human shape, glided softly, but hastily, from the apartment. Ha! thought the African, I have known such personages as this in Aleppo. These angels of death are sometimes found to be mortal themselves—I shall pursue and try. He, therefore, quickly followed the phantom through the private door by which it had escaped, not forgetting to seize his semicircular sword in passing the table where it lay. The stair was dark and steep; but he kept his feet till he reached the bottom. Casting, then, a hasty glance around him, he perceived a shadow vanish from the moon-lit ground, at an angle of the

This miserable place possesses an interest of which the most of our readers cannot be aware. It received its name from the circumstance of a brave young man, by name David Halkerstoun, the broving been killed in it in 1544, when defending the town against the ther of the ancestor of the celebrated Hackstoun of Rathillet, haEnglish under the Earl of Hertford.

house, and instantly started forward in the pursuit. He soon found himself in the open wynd above-mentioned, along which he supposed the mysterious object to have gone. All here was dark; but being certain of the course adopted by the pursued party, he did not hesitate a moment in plunging headlong down its steep profundity. He was confirmed in his purpose by immediately afterwards observing, at some distance in advance, a small jet of moonlight, proceeding from a side alley, obscured for a second by what he conceived to be the transit of a large dark object. This he soon also reached, and finding that his own person caused a similar obscurity, he was confirmed in his conjecture that the apparition bore a substantial form. Still forward and downward he boldly rushed, till, reaching an open area at the bottom, part of which was lighted by the moon, he plainly saw, at the distance of about thirty yards before him, the figure as of a tall man, loosely enveloped in a prodigious cloak, gliding along the ground, and apparently making for a small bridge, which at this particular place crossed the drain of the North Loch, and served as a communication with the village called Mutries Hill. He made directly for the fugitive, thinking to overtake him almost before he could reach the bridge. But what was his surprise, when in a moment the flying object vanished from his sight, as if it had sunk into the ground, and left him alone and objectless in his headlong pursuit. It was possible that it had fallen into some concealed well or pit, but this he was never able to discover. Bewildered and confused, he at length returned to the provost's house, and re-entered the apartment of the sick maiden. To his delight and astonishment he found her already in a state of visible convalescence, with a gradually deepening glow of health diffusing itself over her cheek. Whether his courage and fidelity had been the means of scaring away the evil demon it is impossible to say; but certain it is, that the ravages of the plague began soon afterwards to decline in Edinburgh, and at length died away altogether.

The conclusion of this singular traditionary story bears, that the provost's daughter, being completely restored to health, was married to the foreigner who had saved her life. This seems to have been the result of an affection which they had conceived for each other during the period of her convalescence. The African, becoming joint-heir with his wife of the provost's vast property, abandoned his former piratical life, became, it is said, a douce Presbyterian, and settled down for the remainder of his days in Edinburgh. The match turned out exceedingly well; and it is even said that the foreigner became so assimilated with the people of Edinburgh, to whom he had proved so memorable a benefactor, that he held at one time an office of considerable civic dignity and importance. Certain it is, that he built for his residence a magnificent land near the head of the Canongate, upon the front of which he caused to be erected a -statue of the Emperor of Barbary, in testimony of the respect he still cherished for his native country; and this memorial yet remains in its original niche, as a subsidiary proof of the verity of the above relation.

THE DRAMA.

Ix forming an estimate of the general respectability of the Edinburgh company, two things are to be taken into consideration; first, the present state of the British stage; and second, the comparative rank which, as belonging to a provincial theatre, our company ought to hold. To put these two things out of view, and then to launch forth into pompous commonplaces, which tend to prove that our resident performers are not the very best under the sun, and that a considerably better corps dramatique is to be met with in the metropolis of the country, is merely to state, under the pretended garb of impartial

criticism, what must be apparent to the meanest capacity, and what none but a frothy nincompoop would ever be at the trouble of gravely setting down on paper. We love to pry into abuses as much as most men,-it is flattering to our own discrimination to make them apparent, and to have them rooted out; and as all mortal managers are fallible creatures, it will be a long while before any of them find us telling them that we can see nothing about their establishment which demands improvement. Nevertheless, surly, rough, and sturdy though we be,—— continually snuffing out hidden imperfections with all our three noses,—we have a touch of a softer nature about us ; and we are well aware that no man is entitled to attempt criticism, who has not an eye as apt to perceive merit, and a heart as ready to feel it, as a tongue and pen prepared and willing to expose blundering imbecility, and check presumptuous ignorance. Criticism is not the art of finding fault ;-it is the art of nicely discriminating between what is good and what is bad,—of praising the former, and of deprecating the latter.

On the whole, we are decidedly prepared to support the present management of our theatre. There is, occasionally, a little humbug in the system, and perhaps rather too great a leaning to parsimony,—a certain timidity and caution in the finance department, which leaves more room to laud the prudence than the spirit of the patentee ; but take it for all in all, and we can state safely, and from some experience in these matters, that it would be difficult to point out a provincial theatre,—especially one which is not over-liberally encouraged,-better regulated in all its departments. To make this the more apparent, let us recur, for a moment, to what we stated at the outset. At present the stage over the whole country is at a low ebb. If we except a few respectable comedians, and these almost exclusively of the male sex, whom have we to boast of? Kean is a man of genius, but his own follies render that genius little to be counted on ;--Young is falling into the sear and yellow leaf ;---Charles Kemble was always pleasing and graceful, but rarely any thing more;-Macready is good only in a very few characters; -Wallack, Ward, Cooper, Pemberton, Vandenhoff, are, at the best, only dii minorum gentium. With the exception of the two last named, all these persons belong to some of the theatres in London; and there is scarcely such a thing as provincial celebrity, either in England or Ireland. But even in London we have at Drury-Lane no Othello but Young, who is quite unfit for the part now, and no Iago but Cooper, who never was fit for it at all; and at Covent-Garden, when "Venice Preserved" was performed the other evening, the character of Pierre was sustained by Mr C. Kemble, and that of Jaffier by an unknown individual named Cathcart. As for a Belvidera, there is confessedly no such thing upon the stage— for Miss Phillips is merely respectable, and Miss Smithson seems to be a failure. Now, this being the state of matters in the metropolis, with what kind of justice are we entitled to accuse a provincial manager of having no tragedians of eminence, or of great ability, in his company? We presume a provincial manager cannot make tragedians as Dutch potters make images. And if he cannot make them, where is he to find them? Before we get into a

rage with deficiencies of this sort, let us point out an evident method by which these deficiencies might be supplied. We do not know of one tragedian worth having out of London, with the single exception, perhaps, of Vandenhoff-and even in London, there is scarcely one we would go much out of our way to see. And all last season the worst houses here were invariably on the nights on which Vandenhoff performed; which showed, either that the people had got tired of him, or that, in these light fantastic times, tragedy was considered a drug. Vandenhoff was, therefore, not re-engaged this season; but, if our citizens wish it, we take it upon our responsibility to promise that he shall be brought back next,-that is to say, if he will come; for it is a remarkable fact, too little

known to the vulgar crew of mere grumblers, that actors have sometimes a will of their own, and will not be entirely swayed by the wishes of any particular manager.

he belongs to a common genus, and it is only among this genus that Jones' forte lies.-For low life, in all its different grades and phases,—whether in happy or adverse circumstances, whether comic or grave,—whether a YorkBut now that we have seen what it is impossible shire clown or an Irish bog-trotter, we are perfectly that the Edinburgh Theatre could be in the present state willing to rest content with STANLEY; for we are satisfied of the stage, let us look for a moment to what it is. We that he yields but little to either Edwin or Rayner.— have already said that it is a Provincial Theatre, and that We never thought PRITCHARD a great actor; but it is neas such it must be judged. The question is, are its cessary that every provincial theatre should have a reperformances conducted in a style calculated to give a fair spectable actor of all work,—one who can turn with willestimate of the existing capabilities of the provincial stage, ingness and ease from tragedy to farce, from comedy to and are they such as, considering how dramatic matters melo-drama, and from opera to pantomime. We do not now stand, the Edinburgh public have a right to expect? know where we could, in this respect, find a substitute We can see little difficulty in replying that they are; only for Pritchard-certainly neither in Dublin nor Liverstipulating, that we shall be understood as speaking of pool.-MASON is often a very facetious old man; and he the company as it has existed for several years back, keep- makes, besides, an excellent starved apothecary, and a ing out of consideration one or two defections which have very mirth-exciting tailor.-In a Scottish theatre, nothing taken place towards the fag end of the present season, could be more desirable than one or two actors who can and which there can be no doubt it is the manager's de- do justice to Scottish parts, and this desideratum is very termination fully to supply before the commencement of completely supplied in Messrs MACKAY and DENHAM. It his next campaign. Did we see cause to entertain a mean is true, that the powers of neither of these deserving actors opinion of our stage, we should feel sore both for our- are limited to the delineation of national character; but it selves and other dramatic critics who have not scrupled, is in this department that they both excel. Sir Walter for a considerable period back, to bestow the best of their Scott, by linking Mackay's name with one of his own iniabilities in criticisms, both on the pieces produced here, mitable creations, has unquestionably made the actor imand on the manner in which they were performed. We mortal; and we need only add, that all this performer's should feel sore, too, for the enlightened inhabitants of Scotch parts are delightfully true to nature, whether we this city, who have so long permitted themselves to be see him in “Rob Roy,” in “ Guy Mannering,” in “St gulled into an enjoyment of theatrical representations al- Ronan's Well," in "The Heart of Mid Lothian," in together unworthy of them. It is true that a Cockney, "The Fortunes of Nigel," in "Cramond Brig," or in whose whole ideas of terrestrial grandeur vibrated between" Mary Stuart." __ Denham, in the same walk, is not inCharing Cross and Hyde Park Corner, might assure us ferior; and the Dandie Dinmont of the one is as firmly that our little Theatre was altogether contemptible; or a established in popular favour as the Bailie Nicol Jarvie very empty and conceited goose, dressed in a little brief of the other.-Though his voice is scarcely strong enough authority, by having it in his power to print nonsense to enable him to gain much eclat as a public singer, gratis, might wish to show his own inconceivable supe- THORNE possesses a cultivated taste, which secures our riority, by turning up the ugly point of his pedantic nose always listening to him with pleasure; and though we at our homely enjoyments; but we should be as much often wish that he could do more, we are sure to be safe amused by the Cockney's attempt at ridicule-poor thing! from the annoyance of his attempting too much. So long -as at the human frog's gigantic efforts to puff himself as he had MISS NOEL's powerful support, together with into an ox. We should hand them both over to Donald the MISS TUNSTALL'S still remaining assistance, we do not boxkeeper, advising him to administer to them a little of think we had any right to complain of the want of opethat wholesome chastisement, the application of which ratic force in the company. Miss Noel, it is true, has would be facilitated had they the sense to wear kilts, and now left us; and her place has yet to be supplied.—We the receipt of which might possibly send them back to might allude to more members of the establishment—estheir respective places of abode, wiser and better men. pecially to MRS STANLEY and MRS NICOL;-but the list we have already given is sufficient to show that, for the performance of those pieces which are now the most popular-light comedy, melo-drama, opera, and farce,—than which, nothing else appears to go down-capabilities are to be found in the Edinburgh Theatre of the most respectable kind. We do not say that a better company may not be found in London, but we do say, that a better company will not be found out of London; and further, that the Dublin Company, which, in proportion to the size of the city, ought to be better, is not so good. At the same time, as we have already hinted, we think Mr Murray has a good deal to do, before he commences another season, in the way of repairing some holes which we could, at this moment, pick in his coat. To these we have already alluded on a former occasion; and, trusting that his own good sense will show him the propriety of our hints, we shall say nothing further of them at present.

We take a proper and honest interest in our own national Theatre, and should be sorry to see it traduced. This has never yet been done, so far as we know; and, considering the histrionic talent connected with it, the task would be at once an unthankful and malignant one. It is needless to repeat here what has been so often said already, and what is known and confessed in London no less than in Edinburgh, that, as a comedian of most exquisite finish and tact, the stage cannot boast of any performer superior to MURRAY, and we sincerely believe that, in several of his favourite parts, it has none equal to him. As a manager, we know it to be universally allowed by his brother-managers, that his system is such as to secure a regularity like that of clock-work in all his greenroom arrangements, and to make it impossible that any thing can go egregiously wrong, either before or behind the curtain. The manager's sister, MRS HENRY SIDDONS, does not appear to us to be destitute of faults as an actress, but our own opinion coincides with what we know to be that of the most talented female dramatist of the day, that there is no lady now upon the stage equal to her either for versatility or intensity of power.-We are willing to admit, that between Mr Murray and his sister and any of the rest of the company, there is a considerable interval; but still much merit remains. For the fine gentleman, and similar parts, we could desire no better performer than JONES. It is true that his personifications are seldom very varied, and that he rarely goes far out of himself, as it were; but neither does the fine gentleman;

The Theatre closes this evening for about three months. It is probable that it will re-open, towards the latter end of September, with the German Company who have been recently performing in London, and who will bring out upon this stage the original editions of the "Freischutz," the " Zauberflote," the "Swiss Family," and other German operas. They are to be succeeded by Madame Vestris, who, we doubt not, will draw good houses; and we are happy to be able to add, that Kean has promised to visit Edinburgh about the same time.

Old Cerberus.

THE POET SHELLEY.

THERE has recently been put into our hands a manuscript volume, which we look upon as one of the most remarkable literary curiosities extant. It is a poem in four cantos, by the late poet Shelley, and entirely written in his own hand. It is entitled "THE WANDERING JEW," and contains many passages of great power and beauty. It was composed upwards of twenty years ago, and brought by the poet to Edinburgh, which he visited about that period. It has since lain in the custody of a literary gentleman of this town, to whom it was then offered for publication. have received permission to give our readers a farther account of its contents, with some extracts, next Saturday; and it affords us much pleasure to have it in our power to be thus instrumental in rescuing, through the medium of the LITERARY JOURNAL, from the obscurity to which it might otherwise have been consigned, one of the earliest and most striking of this gifted poet's productions, the very existence of which has never hitherto been surmised.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

STANZAS.

We

From "Eldred of Erin, or the Solitary" a MS. Poem by Charles Doyne Sillery, Author of "Vallery, or the Citadel of the Lake."

TELL me, ye midnight voices, where are they-
They who began life's pilgrimage with me?
Some are asleep in death; some far away
Beyond the billows of the boundless sea,
Never to meet but in Eternity!

They are all severed-long forgotten-fled-
Like wintry leaves wind-scattered o'er the lea ;—
Time walked between with swift and silent tread,
Making alike unknown the living and the dead.
And yet mid them there smiled my earliest friends;
The sharers of my innocence and joy :-
Ah! how the rush of years to manhood tends
Our purer, perfect pleasures to destroy!
Who would not wish again to be a boy?

To tread the fields with light and bounding heart;
When no rough blasts, no hardships could annoy :
Our home our Heaven-simplicity our art;
When every various scene new rapture could impart.
Ah me! and those bright sunny days are gone!
Their very memory warms my weary soul:
Yet can they charm, though age apace comes on,
To cut "the thread" and "break the golden bowl."
Yes; years must change, and fleeting seasons roll,
And I fall off, as I had never been,
Hurried along to lingering life's last goal:
Yet shall I ne'er forget those days serene,
The lovely long-lost hours mine infancy has seen!
Lone be the place of my eternal rest;

May no vain marble mock my mouldering clay-
No" storied urn" weigh heavy on my breast,
To lure the passing Pilgrim from his way,
Or tell aught of the being fled for aye :-
But when soft twilight steals o'er purpled skies,
May some lone warbler lull me with her lay;
And while the pale flowers o'er my ashes rise,
May winds and waters mix in melody and sighs.
Oh! I do hate their vanity and pride;
I'm sick of all man's ostentatious show:
Will not his empty pomp be thrown aside

When life hath ceased to burn-life's blood to flow?
When the frail form is laid for ever low,
Will man yet bear his folly to the grave?
I would not have your chiselled scrolls-Oh, no!
O'er me alone let silent willows wave:

And take, my God in Heaven, take back the soul you

gave.

How sweet is death! no sorrow clouds the tomb ;How still is death! no voice breaks on his rest ;How calm is death! no troubles there can come ;How fair is death! the sunshine of the bless'd;Peace to the dead, whose souls are on the breast Of their Redeemer. O! 'tis sweet to die When Jesus calls, with wearied hearts oppress'd, The rough race run, serenely down to lie, And feel the ebbing soul expand into the sky! THE ROVER'S RETREAT. By Thomas Atkinson. My stride is again on the deck of my bark,

And my bark rides once more on the crest of the sea, And I care not though round my track storm-clouds lour dark,

While the breeze swells my sails thus with boisterous glee!

And I've learn'd, as the hurricane tempest hath swept, That to bend to the bounding is firmest to stand; And through my last peril as now I have stept,

Till my foot was as free as 'tis here, on the land! But when next the broad deck of the Osprey I leaveIf it be not the guerdon of beauty to winMay the billows that now my glad spirit upheave,

Never greet my dull ear with their soul-rousing din; For the home of the Rover's the timber-where floats The red flag of defiance to coward or churl; And while these hold together, away with the thoughts That would point to the hour when that banner we'll furl!

Then her head to the wind and her breast to the wave, The bright west is before us, though clouds close be

hind!

In one moon the warm waves of the tropics shall lave
The prow that now points from a shore so unkind.
But yet, ere its bleak cliffs night veils from our view,
One look-but a proud one-Old Albyn, to thee;
If we turn for a moment to bid thee adieu,
In the next we'll exult in the cheers of the free!

LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES.

We are informed that a New Monthly Periodical is to be publish. ed in September next, to be entitled, "The Edinburgh Journal of Natural and Geographical Science." It will be conducted by an association of Naturalists, and is to embrace all the departments of Natural History and of Geography, both physical and descriptive; and while it will be quite scientific, it will at the same time be written in a popular style.

We understand that the Rev. A. G. Carstairs, minister of Wester Anstruther, is preparing for publication a volume containing the whole of the Scottish Communion Service, according to the usual form of the Presbyterian Church, including the services for the Fastday, and the Saturday before and Monday after Communion.

The Life of Hernan Cortes, including a complete History of the Conquest of Mexico, and a faithful Account of the state of that Empire at the time, and the Life of Francis Pizarro, with an Account of the Conquest of Peru, &c., by Don Tellesforo de Trueba y Cosio, author of "Gomez Arias," "The Castilian," &c. are preparing for speedy publication in Constable's Miscellany.

We understand that Mr Derwent Conway, whose works must be well known to our readers, and whom we have the pleasure of ranking among the contributors to the LITERARY JOURNAL, is at present engaged with a poem, which will appear some time in the course of the present year, to be entitled the Chronicle of the Flowers.

Observations upon the Condition of Negro Slavery in the Island of Santa Cruz, and some Remarks upon Plantation Affairs; with a Notice of the Danish West India Islands, is announced.

The MS. note-books of the Rev. Gilbert White, the author of the Natural History of Selbourne, containing many curious observations not hitherto published, are at present in the possession of Mr Murray, of Albemarle Street, who will issue in a few days a cheap and elegant edition of that work.

The author of Reginald Trevor has a new novel in the press, entitled, Lawrence Mertoun, or a Summer in Wales.

A Life of Sir Walter Raleigh, by Mrs A. T. Thompson, authoress

of the Memoirs of the Court of Henry the Eighth, is announced for early publication.

General.

was not an absolute outrage on decency, it was, at all events, a very coarse and vulgar trick, and presents but a melancholy view of the theatrical taste of the metropolis.-Drury Lane closes for the season this day, and Covent Garden on the 24th. We are informed, by au

A poem, intended to recall to the attention of the public the son of Bonaparte, has just appeared in Paris. It is entitled, "Le Fils de Homme," and has been seized at the instance of the King's AttorneyThe Courier Francois is undergoing a prosecution before the Tri-thority on which we can rely, that the new plays which Mr Price, bunal of Correctional Police of Paris, for an attack on public morals, the religion of the state, and the mode of worship legally recognized. In speaking of the picture of the King's Coronation, by Baron Gerard, it had said, "The immortal picture of the Supper, those of the Transfiguration and of the Communion of St Jerome, will remain master works of art, even when Christian creeds will be completely abolished, if their frail materials could last so long."

Proposals have been published, at Jassy, for a political and literary journal, in the Wallachian language, to be called the Wallachian Bee. The editors express a hope that this journal may tend to the cultivation of a language spoken by four millions of people, and which derives its origin from the Romans.

The Marquis of Hereford, now residing in Rome, and a munificent patron of the fine arts, has purchased the famous Spada Pompey for 24,000 Roman scudi, upwards of L.5100! This is the statue at the base of which Cæsar was assassinated in the Senate-house; and besides the interest attached to it from this circumstance, it possesses intrinsic value as a specimen of ancient sculpture.

ETON MONTEM.-This ceremony, the object of which is to obtain a collection for the head-scholar on the foundation, preparatory to his removal for the university, by laying all the spectators and passengers under a contribution, demanded as money for "salt," for which a ticket is given, with the motto of " Mos pro lege," took place on Tuesday. It was witnessed by a large number of visitors, and produced a larger sum than on any previous occasion. The King

sent a contribution of one hundred guineas.

NEW HIGH SCHOOL.-This fine building is to be opened, with all due ceremony, upon Tuesday next; and a public dinner, commemorative of the occasion, is afterwards to be given, at which the greater part of the literary talent of Edinburgh will be present.

PHRENOLOGY.-We observe that the sensation excited by Mr Stone's recent attack on Phrenology has not yet subsided, and that the attempts made to rally by the Phrenologists have called forth a good deal of discussion in the public journals. We revert to the subject simply to state, that after all that has been said both pro and con, we remain fixed in our opinion, that Mr Combe has been decidedly unsuccessful in his "Answer" to Mr Stone. At the same time we think it right to mention, that one ingenious Phrenologist has directed our attention to several weak points in Mr Stone's pamphlet, to which Mr Combe has not adverted, and to which we believe Mr Stone would find it more difficult to make a "rejoinder." -We cannot, however, give a place to any more controversy upon this subject, because we do not conceive it sufficiently interesting to the general reader. Talent may be elicited upon any subject under the sun, and it certainly has been elicited upon Phrenology; but the soi-disant science is, at the best, a harmless delusion, and its disciples are trifling with a phantom.

THE NEW DIORAMA.-The Diorama of the Valley of Sarnen has been succeeded by a View of the Ruins of Holyrood Chapel by Moonlight. It is by far the finest specimen of pictorial art and mechanical ingenuity in this department of painting which has yet been exhibited here. The illusion is perfect, and the effect quite magical. The spectator is supposed to be in the interior of the Chapel, looking out upon the starry heavens through the ruined window in the east. The moon is seen slowly rising, and her light tips with silver all the projecting points of the ruins, and, in the most enchanting manner, streams in among the mouldering tombs and pillars. Occasionally, clouds pass across its disc, or what a less romantic imagination might conceive to be a sudden puff of smoke from the Old Town. The admirable manner in which the whole scene is managed cannot fail strongly to impress upon the mind the many historical associations— the brightest and the darkest in Scotland's annals-with which these Ruins are connected; and thus, the exhibition not only delights the eye, but is calculated to produce a moral effect upon the mind. The introduction of some subdued and pensive music, executed by an unseen minstrel, is a great addition. The tout ensemble is so delightful, that we scarcely have it in our heart to object that the stars are too

large and brilliant, that too many of the first magnitude are crowded within a certain space, and that they represent no known constellation; or that the moon, like most theatrical moons, is not quite round; or that the woman, standing motionless, with a lamp burning before her, is an unnatural and disagreeable figure. We easily forgive these imperfections; for, in the fascination of the scene, with the gentle moon gliding through the air before us, and shedding her lovely light upon the walls, shafts, and shattered architrave, we forget that they exist.

Theatrical Gossip.-"The Beggar's Opera" has been performed at Covent Garden with the characters reversed,-that is to say, the male parts were sustained by females, and the female by males. If this

the manager of Drury Lane, announced lately for next season, are from the pens of the late Mr Maturin, author of "Bertram," &c., and Miss Mitford, author of "The Two Foscari," "Rienzi," &c., one by each.-As we have occasionally mentioned Miss Smithson somewhat harshly, we think it right to quote the following passage from the letter of a London correspondent :-"I am sorry to see that you select the harshest opinions of the London papers concerning Miss Smithson. There are many who estimate her highly; and one thing is certain, that however she might rank with Mrs Siddons or Miss O'Neil, she is infinitely superior to Miss Phillips, Miss F. H. Kelly, or any other Miss or Madam on the boards of this great city, as a tragic actress."-We see it mentioned in the Atlas that Sontag requires £350 per night to visit Edinburgh or Dublin! It is quite impossible that Sontag can be such an idiot. The house here, at the fullest, does not hold one-half the sum; and were she to ask £20 per night, she would be asking a great deal too much. She is no doubt a very fine singer, but we have heard Pasta, Catalani, and Caradori, and would not break our hearts though Sontag should retire forthwith into some Hungarian solitude with her reputed husband, Count Clam.-Catalani is at Belfast, and Madame Vestris in Dublin.-Poor

Terry has had a stroke of paralysis, and is said to be dying.-The Haymarket has opened in considerable force.-Although Denham's powers are certainly not equal to the doing full justice to Virginius, he sustained the character with great respectability at his benefit on Tuesday last.-Caradori, who delighted us so much in the "Beggar's Opera," appeared last night in "Love in a Village," too late of course for any criticism of ours this week. She repeats the part this evening. -The new piece we announced last Saturday,-" Willie Armstrong, or Durie in Durance,"-has been very favourably received, and deservedly so. Its author is Dr Poole, who has no reason to be ashamed of his bantling, and who, we hope, will favour us next season with something still better; for, in writing for the stage, as in every thing else, practice makes perfect.-We have been much pleased with the neat manner in which the Caledonian Theatre is now fitted up; but we are sorry that we cannot speak very highly of the merits of most of the performers. Mr C. Bass himself we have not yet seen; we hope he plays fully better than his better half. "Anne of Geierstein" is being dramatised for this Theatre.

SAT.
MON.

TUES. WED.

WEEKLY LIST OF PERFORMANCES.

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THURS. FRI.

Married and Single, Do., & Bottle Imp. Love in a Village, & Gilderoy.

TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS.

"REMINISCENCES of former days-My first interview with Sir Walter Scott,"-by the Ettrick Shepherd, will appear in our next. The learned and able reviewer of Dr Walker's Sermons has our best thanks: his communication will appear next Saturday.-The interesting article on St Fillan's Spring is in types. We regret much that the tale of " Marina and Jacopo" is too long for our pages, but shall be glad to hear again from its talented Authoress.-The short article, by "A Friend," shall have a place.— Q. Q." of Glasgow says, "Give me an answer next Saturday, although it should be a very ill-natured one; I have very little patience." We have a good deal, but it will cost us all we have, unless "Q. Q." pays the postage of his next letter: as he seems to be rather a good sort of person, we forgive him this time.-We have to thank our Correspondent at Kirkaldy for his suggestion.

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The Sonnet, by our friend " G. H. G." of London, shall have a place in our next.-Our Leith correspondent shows very distinctly. that in his Pilgrim's Progress, Bunyan has in one or two instances copied from Shakspeare.-The Scotch Ballad, beginning,

"The crabbit auld farmer cam hame at e'en,
An' a sour an' grewsome visage had he;
The body a' day at the pleugh had been,

An' he was as hungry as hungry could be,"

is rather too coarse in some of its stanzas; but we shall be glad to ability about him.-We regret that the verses by "A. P."-by "C_ hear again from its author, who has a good deal of native humour and N."-by" J. B."-and by "S. N." of Inverness, will not suit us.

Several of our poetical friends must be content to wait a short while longer, like Peris, at the gate of Paradise; but their time i coming.

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