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THIS is an interesting and excellent volume, and a decided improvement, we think, upon its predecessor. Its contents are more varied, and more uniformly excellent, and there is scarcely a poet of any eminence who has not been laid under contribution. "In collecting into one focus," says Mr Watts, "a large body of poetry, extracted, for the most part, from sources of a temporary or fugitive character, the Editor desires to assume no other merit than that of having diligently examined a great number of works, and extracted from them such productions as seemed best calculated to exhibit the description of poetical talent by which they are distinguished, or as appeared worthy of being circulated in a more permanent form than that of a newspaper or magazine. In pursuance of this object, however, care has been taken to refer every poem, the source of which could be ascertained, to is proper origin; a duty which would seem to have been studiously neglected by the Editors of all similar publications. Many poems which have excited little or no attention in the pages in which they were originally pub

lished, are here reprinted in a collected form; and whilst they will satisfy the poetical reader of the wealth of the various sources from which they have been derived, will present him with a concentration of their sweets, in a more popular and portable form." That the selection is made judiciously is sufficiently guaranteed by the Editor's acquaintance with the "gentle craft;" for he who can write good poetry himself is best able to appreciate the merits of others. The volume is handsomely printed, and is embellished with a spirited vignette by Westall, the subject of which is, Sappho making an offering of her lyre on the altar of the god. The work is appropri ately dedicated to Mrs Hemans. It is unnecessary to make any extracts.

An Historical Essay on the Magna Charta of King John; to which are added, the Great Charter in Latin and English, &c. &c. By Richard Thomson. London. John Major and Robert Jennings. Royal 8vo. Pp. 612.

THIS is a very costly and beautiful work, including not only a full account of the Magna Charta of King John, but also a general view and explanation of the whole series of English Charters, with accounts of the events, principal persons, and historical documents and illustrations, connected with them. It would be difficult to appreciate too highly the great mass of antiquarian information which the work contains, and the labour which it must have cost to collect and arrange it. The highly decorative character of the volume is an interesting and novel feature; and the numerous illustrations and embellishments which so liberally adorn its pages, throw a flood of light upon the subjects of which it treats. These embellishments consist chiefly of tombs, monumental effigies, armorial ensigns, seals, and fac-similes of the char ters of liberties. The whole is calculated to furnish familiar and correct views of one of the most famous events in the annals of England. It has been, we believe, between and eight and nine years in passing through the press; reflects the highest credit on the research and abilities of its Editor, Mr Thomson, the author of the "Chronicles of London Bridge," ‚” “Tales of an Antiquary,” and other popular works.

It is, perhaps, worth mentioning, that it appears by this work Sir Walter Scott has committed a slight mistake in "Ivanhoe," when he makes Cedric in 1194-the year Richard I. returned from his imprisonment in Austria-speak of a wood being " disforested in terms of the Forest-Charter," since it was not till the year 1217 that the first Forest-Charter was issued.

Richard's Universal Daily Remembrancer; comprising a Correct Diary for Memorandums, Appointments, Bills Due, Receivable, or Payable, &c. and a variety of es thentic and useful information. London. C. Richards. Edinburgh. Constable and Co. 1830. 4to.

THIS is the largest and best book of the kind for the ensuing year we have yet seen. Besides a large and wellarranged Diary, extending to 211 ruled pages, there are thirty-six lists and tables, giving information on a variety of matters, highly useful to the merchant, banker, lawyer, persons in public offices, military men, tradesmen, travellers, and private gentlemen. The work is cheap, and we have no doubt will find an extensive circulation.

A Few Practical Hints relative to the Purchase, Manage ment, &c. of Horses. Edinburgh. Waugh and Innes. 1830. 32mo, pp. 48.

An excellent waistcoat-pocket companion for all gentlemen who buy horses.


Eighteen Maxims of Neatness and Order; to which is fired, an Introduction. By Theresa Tidy. 20th Edi

tion. London. J. Hatchard and Son.

WITHOUT a habit of neatness and order, all the comfort of social life is at an end. We recommend these Maxims, therefore, to the especial attention of all young ladies and gentlemen, who may not be sufficiently aware that upon one occasion,

"For want of a nail, the shoe was lost,
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost,
For want of a horse the rider was lost,
(Being overtaken and slain by the enemy)
And all for want of care about a horse-shoe nail."

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No. I.

SCENE-A Gothic Chamber, with antique Statues ranged in niches along its sides; in the back-ground, hangings concealing a recess; the stage darkened.

Enter the SORCERER, bearing a lamp, followed by ADRIAN. Sorcer. WELCOME, my young scholar, to this retired room, the scene of your initiation; and welcome to the presence of its sole witnesses-those marble effigies of the poets of old, whose shadows, cast from our one lamp, mark out a fanciful avenue on the stone floor beside us. Yonder vaulted cell, with the veil drawn over it, conceals the stone, the instrument of my art.

Adr. And what does that art profess?

Sorcer. To wed poetry to painting, and chain both as captives to the chariot of Virtue and Reason: to embody to the sight the fleeting phantasms of thought, and give to the hopes and fears of the human heart an apparent form and living energy; in fine, to transmute superstitious and vague terrors into a pure awe and devotion redolent only of good.

Adr. Is your science new?

Sorcer. No; but its legitimate end has been but lately made known. The globe of alabaster on which my emblematic pictures are formed, has existed in its present shape since the times of the Alchymists. It is the identical stone commemorated in the mad, but singularly interesting, dream of the astrologer, Dr John Dee. With the progress of opinion it became unpopular, and finally disappeared till the beginning of the present century. It was then discovered by the Author of Waverley among the ruins of Melrose Abbey, who again introduced it to the world, now to become the means of diffusing virtue and knowledge, purified from the degrading fears and subtleties which had so long disfigured and obscured it. Adr. Let me behold it.

Sorcer. You shall. Place our lamp on the slab behind the third statue. (Adrian places the lamp. The Sorcerer waves his hand, and the veil rises, and discovers the sanctuary, and the magic globe on a lofty pedestal.

Adr. How exquisitely beautiful! It blazes through the width of this dim chamber, like one of those ancient

carbuncles we read of, which diffused a red light like evening through every aisle of the temple of a god. Sorcer, Turn your back on the stone, and look at me. Adr. (Turns.) I see you not : we are in utter darkness. Where is the lamp I but now placed above us?

Sorcer. It has gone out. We are in the world of thought; and before the glories of that sacred region, fires fed by the grosser aliments of matter, flicker and die


Adr. Let us turn back, then, to the light which will not fail us. I can yet perceive none of those figures which you have described to me as appearing on the sphere. I see only a rack of dusky shadows, sailing slowly across the globe, and tinged, like the eastern side of a morning cloudlet, by the hues of the lucid body before which they move.

Sorcer. And this, too, has a meaning. What wish you to see?

Adr. I have heard, that ye who hold commerce with supernal natures, have each some master whom ye must serve. Who is yours? If it be permitted, I would behold your lord..

Sorcer. I have a sovereign: and though herself you cannot see, her likeness shall pass before you. Look firmly on the stone.

On Adr. The darkness is melting from around it. its face are tossing and whirling the fragments of a beautiful landscape, like the reflection of woods and cliffs in a river-pool, which the otter's plunge has disturbed, as he dives to his bed beneath the root-twisted bank. It becomes still and connected, and seems now to be the image of one of those ancient paradises of the earth, lighted up with a shadowy splendour, like that of the first morning sun that rose from the new-formed sea. Divine resemblance! By the tears which stand in mine eyes, I have seen this before!

Sorcer. Thou hast not. Already thou mayest have learned that beauty always seems to have existed with us in the past; and therefore it is that true poetry is ever melancholy. But look again. The scene has its inhabitant.

Adr. The wood-embosomed lake! the awful cave! the enchantress! speak, for I cannot.

Sorcer. You behold the ruler of life, her who sways our human spirits, as the whirlwind tosses the mountain's sands. You behold her in her mystic cave of fear, encircled by her phantom train; those etherial and delightful shapes, and those others of sterner aspect, that twine round her in unceasing and varied dance, till the sorceress half believes in the creatures of her own thought, and smiles,-with the stony smile of awakening fear! Adr. Let them pause. I am giddy.

Sorcer. At thy wish the picture grows dim. Thou hast seen our mistress. Canst thou tell her name? Adr. She is IMAGINATION.

Sorcer. Then in her name invoke her subject-visions; and at the sound of that spell they will come trooping to thy call.

Adr. I do invoke them. By the power beneath whose magic rod ye spring into being, rise before me, ye children of change and thought! Pass visibly by me, ye fancies of the heart, before whom the mind bows down to fear and worship! Let life come before in all its shades, from the first tears of the cradled infant, to the last sigh of broken and weary age.

Sorcer. We can do more: we can gaze beyond the dark river of death, and walk in the world which lodges our spirits before their earthly existence is begun. Let us look on one of these.

Adr. It is very strange. Pale and unsubstantial forms seem restlessly to wander through a dark and misty clime, whose waters are black as though their gulfs were bottomless, and its dimly-discovered mountains seem clothed with storm-struck and lifeless pines. Methinks thin weak voices swell in the air, as of deep and hope

less lamentation uttered by lips unwarmed by mortal blood.

Sorcer. These are human souls waiting in the unseen state, for the hour that is to call them into the body.

Adr. And they mourn because they are doomed to live! My master, their grief is prophetic! I will see no more of life. But let me witness its conclusion,-the jubilee of sad humanity!

Sorcer. Behold it as you desire. The face of the stone presents a sequestered valley, canopied by the thin grey cloud of night; while above yon steep and wooded mount, which, like a rude and mossy temple, rises in the centre of the dell, the shroud is slowly parting, and disclosing one narrow streak of sky. It comes!-up into that river of deepest blue is sailing the fairest of the barks of heaven, the evening-star of beauty and of love; the only lamp of that delightful earth, the only wanderer of that placid heaven!

Adr. Yes, yes! this is death! Even as that star has burst from its cloudy prison, the spirit soars from the gloom and sorrows of earth. And as the bright planet which shines on this blessed scene, yet looks, too, on the valleys it may have left behind that jutting hill, so may the soul, from its regained birth-place in heaven, gaze still on the spot where once it sojourned on earth.

Sorcer. And if this be true, may we not, far more than the sage of Greece, wish to die, and be with those who were once great and beloved, before and among us? Adr. The wise man of Greece, the mighty of old! There are words which work as strong enchantments as your mirrored sphere, and give life to phantasies not less vivid or sublime. Let the stone exhibit to me some emblem of that elder world, which we in weaker days so love to contemplate.

Sorcer. You have your wish, and more. In that extended plain, you see, far distant, cities and towers, rivers and retiring hills; all faintly seen, as if the autumn sun had an hour ago sunk from heaven: while, in the foreground of the picture are grouped, men in a strange and ancient garb, building with toil, a gigantic and marble altar.


Adr. Enough in this likewise am I disappointed. There is too much of reality there.

Sorcer. Nay, do not turn away, but keep silence for awhile. Now, look to the stone again, and view that same scene when the footseps of a thousand years have broken it, and uncounted generations have consecrated it with their scattered tombs.

Adr. A spirit's hand has touched it; and now my beloved day-dreams are truly before mine eyes. Earth is yellow with the glow of sunset, blending in the distance with the rosy and purple lights of coming eve. The cities are ruined and silent-the woods are old and stately in their vales—and the altar itself, the genius of the place, has suffered decay and change. Its grey and massive walls gleam out from robes of green grass and lichens; and the statue which crowned it, thrown down from its ivytwined pillar, lies, overgrown with moss, by the driedup fountain's brink. And before that relic of death stands a solitary man, musing over the ruin, with such wonder as if he believed its immense frame the work of gods, and such awe as if its every stone to him were holy. But it has more power for him. Let it appear to him in its hour of might,-in night and darkness. Like thought it rises. The wanderer sleeps on the grassy mound, beneath the lonely pine-tree of the spot, and the pale moonshine tinges the ground with broader shadows and softer and more airy hues. And they descend around him, the world-forgotten dead hover in the air above, while their awful forms seem to bend forward from their cloud, to bless the worshipper who feels their power, the power and divinity of Time and Death!

Sorcer. He dreams; and so do we. Are you satisfied? Adr. Can you not bring up before us the thoughts and passions of the human soul?

Sorcer. Not to the novice. Another time, when your eyes have been further strengthened to look on our mys terious pageant, and your mind gifted to pierce more deeply into its hidden philosophy, you shall visit our chapel again. In the meantime, our stone must be veiled. Its surface is already dark. (The veil drops before the globe and its cell.) And now, from the turret at our side, look out upon the night.

Adr. It is truly lovely. Almost could I persuade myself that I still gaze on the unearthly spectacle you last presented to my sight. The valley round our rocky dwelling is bathed in the snow-like moonlight, whose setting beams are quivering on our willow-fringed lake.

Sorcer. It is well; now, witness the last wonder o my place of art. Come hither open that western window, and let the light revisit our dark room. (d rian throws back the casement.)

Adr. Hark! Hark! (Soft music.) A strain of harmo ny, wild and pathetic as a phantom's hymn. Whence comes it? from above us, or beneath? Sorcer. Trace the moon's rays which you have just admitted. Where do they fall?

Adr. Full on that statue, on the very harp which the poet bears.

Sorcer. And with those strings the light makes music. For, as you have heard of the eastern statue, which sounded under the first beams of morning, so do the marble harps of those ancient masters of melody discourse to me delightful music, when touched by the fine essence of the cold lamp of night. Neither is this without a more solemn import.

Adr. It has ceased, even while we spoke of it. Sorcer. And is in this like mortal pleasure: it stays not to be questioned.

Adr. At your last words a thought has struck me. Are not your representations gloomy?

Sorcer. They ought to be so, if they would work on man. The howling of the November wind along the crumbling wall, and the hush of the leaves which fall at his feet, will go at once to the heart of him, around whom spring would twine her roses, without exciting a feeling or a thought.-But we must retire, and leave our chamber and its treasure to its lifeless and beautiful occupants, soon, very soon, to visit them again. [The curtain drops.]



WHATEVER the working classes do, of their own accord, for their improvement in useful knowledge, must always be regarded with great satisfaction; because, in every thing which tends to promote their true interest, the maxim inculcated by an Edinburgh Reviewer will be found equally just and applicable-that, “what others can do for them is trifling indeed, compared with what they can do for themselves." To the remarks, therefore, which we recently made upon Mechanics' Institutions in general, and which we know to have been perused with interest by many of our readers, we are anxious now to add something of a more specific nature.

What the City of Edinburgh chiefly desiderates in respect of popular education, seems to be, an intermediate institution between the Sessional School and the School of Arts, for enabling the advanced students of the latter to exercise themselves, under no constraint, in chemical and philosophical manipulation; and to refresh their memeries by becoming the gratuitous instructors of such journeymen and apprentices as earnestly desire to learn, but who may be withheld from the Sessional School by that feeling of reluctance which adults can rarely overcome, to mix with children already far before them in acquirement. Upon this plan of mutual instruction, with the aid, perhaps, of a few voluntary lecturers from among

the better classes, may be taught, and most effectively, let our mechanics give the experiment a fair trial; and many of the more humble branches of useful knowledge if they succeed, as they are sure to do, let them print an not embraced by the arrangements of the School of Arts, annual report of their progress, and assume to themselves but which are, nevertheless, indispensably requisite before the appropriate name of THE EDINBURGH MECHANICS' any substantial benefit can be derived from that institu- INSTITUTION. tion, to say nothing of their own practical value. illustration of the sort of institution we mean, we beg to submit the following programme, which, of course, might be modified according to circumstances :—


1. Reading, writing, and common arithmetic-bookkeeping and tradesmen's accounts-practical geometry, with every description of artificer's measuring-use of the tables, nature and application of logarithms.

2. English grammar and composition (by far too much neglected)-geography, with the use of the globes, and construction of maps-practical trigonometry and navigation-drawing and planning (very important)—and also the French language, if required.

3. (The discursive department)—Original essays and instructive extracts, to comprise, if possible, a clear elucidation of the plan and principles of friendly societies and savings' banks; and, of course, experiments and illustrations in chemistry and natural philosophy.

Such persons only as have witnessed a monitorial school in operation, can rightly conceive the peculiar facility which working men have of communicating their ideas to one another, and in many of the branches stated above, mutual instruction is all that would be required. To the voluntary lecturers already alluded to we might safely trust for lectures in popular astronomy, geology, and animal and vegetable physiology. Neither is it going too far to predict, that the reading-room and hall of the institution would soon become the chief rendezvous for all well-behaved and intelligent young mechanics, who would find the amusements which science and literature afford, every way preferable to the vulgar and degrading enjoyments of the tap-room and smoking-club. At the same time, we should wish it to be expressly understood, that only a little learning" is the utmost the great mass of the working-people can possibly acquire. Their own common sense leads them to perceive very clearly, that, even did they possess theoretical science in a high degree, it could never compensate men who must live by "the sweat of their brow" for deficiency in that practical knowledge, which, next to good moral conduct, best recommends them to good masters and constant employment. Let the "hard-working men of Athens," therefore, build their little temple of science upon the substantial basis of practically useful knowledge.


No. II.

I SHALL now turn your attention to Parisian theatricals; and first, to the Théatre Français. There is something august in the very name; it is redolent of the good old times of Louis XIV., and "la grande nation." Besides, it is sanctified and set apart for the classical drama;

the impertinent gaiety of the vaudeville, and the noise and glitter of the melo-drama, dare not enter here. No one is privileged to joke here but Moliere, and no one dare aspire to tragic grandeur but Corneille; all the rest are spell-bound by the icy trammels of etiquette. Nor is the building unsuited to inspire feelings of reverence. Its exterior is plain, and not very impressive; but the neatness, taste, and precision which preside over its internal arrangements, are worthy of that dynasty which stamped its own character upon it. Yet even in this sanctum sanctorum have the luckless adherents of classical taste been attacked by the Goths of romance. The sacred stage, the orchestra, boxes, and proscenium, have trembled at the profanation of seeing a play of Shakspeare performed in the Théatre Français; and, what is worse, applauded by at least a part of the audience. Victor Hugo has had the audacity to perpetrate a translation of the old barbarian's “Othello" into French verse; nay, more-Mars, Joanny, and Perrier, have so far forgot themselves as to perform in it; and, worst of all, the Romantics are so shameless as to say it was successful. Five of the few remaining Emigré's, and three antiquated critics, have hanged themselves on the occasion; and tirades, argumentative and abusive, have filled the public prints. The interest of this important question absolutely superinduced a cessation of the vituperations against the ministry for a day and a half.


Closely connected with this quarrel, is the memory of the late English company. It has departed, and need be in no haste to return, for the day of its success is over. Novelty is pleasing everywhere, and the Parisians were contented to sit for a time, and wonder at the unintelligible gestures of a set of people whose language they did not understand. Latterly, however, the seats were abandoned to the use of the English residents in Paris. they attended but poorly, for the one-half thought it would compromise their literary reputation, should they confess that they felt the want of an English theatre in Paris; and the other feared they would find little pleasure in seeing the first line of characters sustained by actors who, they suspected, had come here, because they were not much in request at home. For a week or two, indeed, the establishment did offer an attraction. Mrs West was taken ill, and a Madame St Leon volunteered to supply her place. It was a rich treat to see our fair countrywomen in the boxes sitting convulsed, between their desire to laugh at the ineffable distress of Madame St Leon's Jane Shore, and their native feelings of what was due to politeness.

The foregoing simple outline of a mechanics' society is little else than the plan which has been judiciously adopted, and acted upon with gratifying success, by many of the local institutions. That such an institution is required, and would prosper in Edinburgh, there cannot be the shadow of a doubt. A few mistakes would, of course, occur at its commencement; but why should not mechanics, by whom alone we suppose the society to be managed and conducted, derive, as well as others, wholesome instruction from their own blunders ? That such an institution would greatly promote the best interests of the present School of Arts, seems abundantly manifest. We have heard it confidently asserted that it would triple the attendance, and give twofold efficacy to the excellent lectures administered at that valuable seminary. The minor theatres here are much the same as those At all events, for the first year, the use of apparatus from in London. Occasionally you find a good actor lost the School of Arts would not likely be refused; and valu- amidst a crowd; as, for example, Perlet at the Théatre able aid might also be derived from the " Edinburgh Me- de Madame. In the matter of dirt and disagreeable chanics' Subscription Library" already formed. The odours, too, they are worthy counterparts of our Cockney only expense worth mentioning would be, the rent of temples of the dramatic muse. Nor wants there a pretty suitable apartments to meet in; and the money for this frequent row, to make the illusion complete. A catalogue purpose should be raised by the members themselves, for, raisonné of some of the most recently produced pieces upon no account whatever should they accept of pecuni- will give you the best idea of the state of the drama in ary donations: let all such be sent to the School of Arts these establishments.-Some time ago, a most outrageous building fund. The drawing up of a neat code of rules bit of pathos was produced at the Théatre des Nouveautés -and regulations would not cost much trouble. In fine, with great success. "Isaura" is the name of the play,


never have taken place a topic of public animadversion, is to do much more harm than good. In the case of a recent coalition between two rival bodies, many discussions are apt to arise, with which it is neither necessary nor prudent that strangers should be made acquainted. The occurrences of the 11th instant were most unequivocally of this description. It is with regret, therefore, that we feel it indispensable, in correcting some mis-statements that have gone abroad, to give even a general account of what really happened—a regret enhanced by the knowledge, that some member of the Academy must have lent himself to the publication of a garbled statement of the proceedings at the general meeting in the teeth of a pledge to keep silence.

surer; and that they introduced to the meeting two legal gentlemen, not members of the Academy, for the purpose of bearing down all opposition.

and its plot is as follows:-A young man, desperate from disappointed love, plunges into the recesses of a forest in the Pyrenees, and is there bit by a mad wolf. Of course he goes mad himself, and bites, in his frenzy, the poor girl who is the innocent cause of his misfortune. consequence is, that she goes mad just as she is about to be led to the altar, and expires in excruciating agonies. This exquisite morceau still continues to draw houses, although a considerable time has elapsed since its first appearance. Mme. Albert, who enacts the part of the young girl with horrid correctness, has gained thereby the highest reputation. Fired by the success of the horrible in the instance of "Isaura,” the theatre at the Porte St Martin is bringing out Schiller's "Robbers ;" and another minor has announced Marschner's " Vampyr." It has been maintained, that the artists formerly conThis strange aberration cannot, however, be expected to nected with the Royal Institution, who lately acceded to hold long. Already the Vaudeville has set itself against the Scottish Academy, have conducted themselves in an the stream, by producing "L'hydrophobe," a trifle meant improper spirit towards one of the leading members of to ridicule "Isaura." It is a vaudeville more laudable that body. The accusation is rested upon two assertions, in its intention than its execution.—A new vaudeville—that they refused to continue him in the office of trea has been produced at the Théatre de Madame, by the indefatigable MM. Bayard and Scribe. It would be utterly impossible for these gentlemen to write any thing completely destitute of interest; and yet in this new piece they are scarcely equal to themselves. It is called "Les Actionnaires," and has been suggested by the mania for Joint Stock Companies, which has had its day here as well as in England. M. Geffart, a gentleman of more talent than morality, sells shares, in a great enterprise not yet projected, to a set of good people who purchase without making any impertinent enquiries about its nature. The time, however, arrives at last, when he is called upon to explain his scheme in a full meeting of the shareholders. He blunders out a thousand impracticable undertakings, all of which are rejected. Just in the nick of time, an honest countryman offers to sell him a wood at a low price, and Geffart, to the great satisfaction of the speculative crew, announces his scheme to be a new and less expensive mode of furnishing Paris with firewood. Some of the situations are amusing enough; but, on the whole, the economical details are given with too much verisimilitude. As in the case of some Dutch painters, the joke is lost in the anxious correctness of the portrait." Le Garde de Nuit," is a trifle which owed its success entirely to the spirit with which Vernet performed the principal character. The prince of some place or another, tired of the sameness of a court life, flies from a grand masked ball, to seek for a frolic among the citizens. He finds Philip, an honest watchman, about to commence his nocturnal rounds, and forces him to exchange his dreadnought for the elegant rose-coloured domino of the prince. The attendants who have come in search of the latter take Philip for him, and insist upon accompanying him back to the ball; when he, without attending to the propriety of time and place, begins to dispense home-truths on all sides, and to announce reforms of rather an alarming character. At this critical moment a plot against the true prince breaks out, and Philip, under his assumed character, is committed to close custody; from which he escapes in time to save his betrothed bride from the amorous importunity of the true prince.

These pieces will serve to give you an idea of the kind of plays which succeed here. Historical dramas, too, there are, but, as you have enough of them at home, it is needless to enter into any detail concerning them.

AFFAIRS OF THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY. WE announced last week our intention of publishing a detailed account of the proceedings at the late general meeting of this body. On second thoughts, however, and upon the principle of " never throwing ashes or any thing hot to windward," we have altered our intention. We are of opinion, that to make squabbles which should

With regard to the election of a new treasurer, it was a step undeniably in the power of the Academy to take and after the dispassionate and full account of the proceedings which we have gathered from different and trust-worthy quarters, we must say, that the measure appears to have been justified by the tone which the unsuccessful candidate assumed to the Society. In regard to the second allegation-the fact is, that some discussion was expected to arise regarding the terms of the award which was the foundation of the union of the two bodies; and, from a desire to prevent unnecessary, and in all probability warm discussions, the arbiter named by the artists of the Institution, and the gentleman who has all along, and gratuitously, officiated as the law-agent of the Academy, volunteered their attendance, in order to explain any doubtful expressions. The offer was accepted, and at the suggestion of the very gentlemen who now complain of it as an undue interference.

We refrain from entering into particulars, and from commenting on the language held on the occasion, because we look upon it as the expression of a feeling of soreness which time will assuage, if left unexcited by comment. But we would beg to impress upon the minds of the academicians, that bygones ought to be bygones that the very existence of their young institution depends upon the cordiality of their union-that wasting their time in petty squabbles must alienate from them the public sympathy-that, above all, appeals to the public upon incorrect statements, by any individual, of what takes place at their meetings, are most unjustifiable and dangerous. Here we are willing to let the matter rest, unless there be a repetition of the offence which has suggested these remarks. In that case, we shall hold it necessary to probe the matter to the bottom. This is no vain threat, for we have ample materials in our hands; neither is it uttered in any feeling of hostility, for we have approved ourselves on former occasions friendly to that portion of the Aca demy whose conduct we are now reluctantly obliged to



CIRCUMSTANCES prevented us from being much at the Theatre last week. Miss Paton's benefit, on Monday evening, was very crowdedly attended, and went off with great eclat. On Wednesday, Mr Macready—an actor of ment. much power and originality-entered upon an engagespondent has favoured us with the following remarks We were not present, but an intelligent corre concerning him:

fore an Edinburgh audience in his favourite character of "On Wednesday evening, Mr Macready appeared be


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