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another step in the ladder of ambition; at this very moment, the table of the professional epicure is covered with all that is recherché in the annals of gastronomy; at this very moment, the bride of yesternight takes her place of honour, for the first time, at the table of her rich and titled husband. Alas! there are traitors at the statesman's board; there is poison and disease within the silver dishes of the epicure; and there are silent but sad memories of days past away for ever strewed like withered flowers round the heart of the young bride! But before you is a living garland, still blooming unconscious of the thousand cankers of earth and air.

Yet the dark arrow is on the wing-the barb hath already singled out its victim, and I see it advancing through the shadows of futurity. In a few months the golden tresses of that bright-eyed boy will fall in lank and matted strings over a cold, damp brow. He is one of many, yet is he not loved the less by his own fond parents. Many a long night will they watch by his feverish couch, and clasp his little burning hand in theirs, and gaze with full hearts-too full for speech-upon the fading lustre of his face. Yet will his young manly spirit still struggle against the grasp of pain. With the pure and confiding affection of childhood, he will throw himself into his father's arms, and look up into his face, and smile, and prattle cheerfully of his innocent hopes and pleasures. One morning the sun will shine through his curtains, yet will his eyelids remain unclosed,——the bird, whose glad carols waked him to life and happiness, will sing unheeded. His pale cheek moves not on his pillow,

-his feeble hand is stretched unconscious by his side. Not a sound is in the darkened room but the frequent sobbing of his almost broken-hearted mother, and the soft steps of his little rosy-faced brothers and sisters, who, with fingers pressed on their lips, steal to his bed and gaze, for the first time, on death. A few days more, and they lay him in the earth, and the unseen power of decomposition seizes greedily on his prey. Few knew the happy boy, and none loved him but his parents; the temporary blank in their affections is soon filled up by the survivors, and, ere a year elapses, his merry smile and voice of gladness live but faintly in the memory. To the busy world, his existence was unknown and his absence is unfelt; and the wonder rather is, not that he is now no more, but that he should have ever been. And where art thou, young spirit of delight? Hast thou passed away like a foam-bell on the waters, or shall we meet with thee again, wandering among the unfading flowers of yonder golden planet?

On the whole, I am not sure that strawberries ought to be eaten when any one is with you. There is always, under such circumstances, even though your companion be the dearest friend you have on earth, a feeling of restraint, a consciousness that your attention is divided, a diffidence about betraying the unfathomable depth of your love for the fruit before you, a lurking uneasiness lest he should eat faster than yourself, or appropriate an undue share of the delicious cream; in short, there is always, on such occasions, a secret desire that the best friend you have in the world were at any distant part of the globe he might happen to have a liking for. But, oh! the bliss of solitary fruition, when there is none to interrupt you-none to compete with you-none to express stupid amazement at the extent of your godlike appetite, or to bring back your thoughts, by some obtrusive remark, to the vulgar affairs of an unsubstantial world! Behold the milky nectar is crimsoned by the roseate fruit! Heavens! what a flavour! and there is not another human being near to intrude upon the sacred intensity of your joy! Painter -poet-philosopher-where is your beau-ideal-happiness? It is concentrated there! and, divided into equal portions by that silver spoon, glides gloriously down the throat! Eat, child of mortality! for June cometh but once in the year! cat, for th re is yet misery in store for thee! eat, for thy days are numbered! eat, as if thou

wert eating immortal life!-eat, eat, though thy next mouthful terminate in apoplexy!

My dream of strawberries hath passed away! the little red rotundities have been gathered from the surface of the globe, and man's insatiate maw has devoured them all! New hopes may arise, and new sources of pleasure may perhaps be discovered ;-the yellow gooseberry may glit ter like amber beads upon the bending branches--the ruby cherry may be plucked from the living bough, and its sunny sides bruised into nectar by the willing teeth-the apple, tinted with the vermilion bloom of maiden beauty, may woo the eye, and tempt the silver knife-the golden pear, melting into lusciousness, soft as the lip, and sweet as the breath of her thou lovest most, may win, for a time, thy heart's idolatry-the velvet peach, or downy apricot, may lull thee into brief forgetfulness of all terrestrial woe-the dark-blue plum, or sunbeam coloured magnum bonum, may waft thy soul to heaven,—or, last of all, thy hothouse grapes, purple in their bursting richness, may carry thee back to the world's prime, to the faun and dryad-haunted groves of Arcady, or lap thee in an Elysium of poetry and music, but still the remembrance of thy first love will be strong in thy heart, and, pamper thy noble nature as thou wilt, with all the luxuries that summer yields, never, never, will the innermost recesses of thy soul cease to be inhabited by an immortal reminiscence of "Strawberries and Cream!"


WITH the single exception of visiting the sick and the dying, there is no part of a clergyman's duty, which, if properly and judiciously discharged, is more productive of friendly feelings and beneficial moral results, than the annual visitation, as it is termed, of his parish. In fact, what was formerly termed, and discharged as a diet of examination, has now merged and softened down into the less imposing, but, in fact, more useful duty, because better fitted to the times,-of visiting and conversing, exhorting and praying, from house to house, and street to street. At the time, indeed, when Presbytery was originally established, and for centuries afterwards, examination, close, frequent, and without exception of persons, was of essential necessity and benefit, amidst a people comparatively uneducated, and requiring to be informed upon, as well as confirmed in, the leading and distinctive articles of the Presbyterian faith; and this for the same reason, that the reading of the line, in psalm-singing in churches, was deemed necessary, and enforced; but times are now altered, and whilst the presumption is, that all church-going worshippers can read the line, as well as sing it, it may with equal propriety be presumed, that our Scottish peasantry require less to be informed on matters of faith and duty, than to be exhorted to obedience and practice. Besides, at the time when annual clerical examinations were in vigorous and useful practice, those distinctions which now exist in families had not arisen. The gudeman associated, in work, in relaxation, and at meal-hours, with the servants of his household, and the children of the cottars were in no respect distinct or se parated from those of the tenant. In such circumstances, when the household of a farm town had assembled at the intimation, and around the person of the minister, man, wife, and wean, were naturally ranked without distinction on the same floor, and subjected to the same scrutinizing inquiries on religious subjects. The pride and distinction of circumstance had not then created that false shame which made the landlord blush at his ignorance in the presence of his man-servant, or the mistress feel her attthority at stake when the housemaid appeared to more advantage than herself. Things, however, are now ma terially altered, and altered, in some points of view, for the better. The gudeman has now become the master, the gudewife has been metamorphosed into the mistress,

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with all the accompanying distinctions of bens, bed-rooms, dressing-closets, and parlours; and a thriving farmer who attends markets on horseback, and dines with the laird or his factor on rent-day, would necessarily feel degraded er injured in the eyes of his household, were his ignoC rance or awkwardness to be exposed in the presence of ¿ that household, over which it is incumbent upon him to preside with more of distance and authority, than his forefathers found necessary. It is on this ground that I would → venture to recommend visitations as preferable to examinations, and exhortations as better than all the levelling and awkward discipline of questioning and answers; and this not on theoretical principles, but from experience exclusively.



When I first set about examining my parish, and giving from the pulpit public intimation of the particular districts through which I would pass, I found a very scanty attendance indeed. The Master and Mistress of the family were generally in the way, and prepared to receive me with 1 all cordiality and respect, but nothing would induce the ploughboy or the housemaid to stand fire. As I ascended the brae, or came into view from the head or the foot of a glen, I could see a general turn-out of lounging, retiring figures, which melted away with wonderful celerity, like Roderick Dhu's men, into jungle, den, and braken bush, and became entirely invisible during the rest of the evening. The landlord and landlady I never could muster confidence to call to the floor, and over the few half-grown boys and girls which remained, a kind of visible terror reigned, to the entire confusion of their intellectual faculties, and memory in particular. I must confess, that there is something, as Cowper says, in the putting of a question, exceedingly disconcerting. To be set up without table, chest, or any thing whatever to lean upen, and with a full couple of arms and hands to dispose of, immediately opposite to the minister—to him who is necessarily endowed with all manner of wisdom and knowledge, on religious subjects in particular,—to mark leisurely the thoughtful brow, the stooping serious posture, eye prophetic of the coming enquiry, and the mouth forming into articulation and enunciation-to hear the same question elongated, altered, new-modelled, turned over and over on all its sides; and yet, on every side, and in every position, equally incomprehensible to your mortified and concussed brain, all this is indeed exceedingly perplexing, and in no way calculated to leave behind it any other impressions than those which accompany our escape from drowning in a river, or breaking our neck over a precipice. One rejoices in the escape, but the river and precipice are ever after objects of aversion and unpleasing recollection.


I accordingly modified my practice in the following manner, and to the success of which I can adduce the testimony of several years, and many hundreds of parishioners.

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I visited every house in detail, conversing for some time after my entrance, on matters but indirectly connected with religion-the means of subsistence, the husband's employment, the health of the family, the last letter from a son abroad, or the last visit from a daughter at service a casual compliment to the looks of a favourite child, or a good-natured observation on the natural tendency of all children to idleness and mischief. Such preludes as these brought us to closer and more serious converse on education, its advantages-school and church, their attendance family-breaches, their sanctification,-resignation to God, its necessity and beauty-life, its uncertainty-death, its solemnity-scripture, its hopes, its joys, its admonitions, its doctrines the Saviour of man, his humility, humanity, love, and expiation—the weakness of man, his dependence-prayer, its efficacy, and faith and trust in God, its indispensable necessity. And having arrived at this desirable consummation, and being fully in possession of the attention of the audience, the transition into an actual exhibition of the exercise of prayer, is at once natural and

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called for, and productive of the most solemnizing and heart-warming consequences.

By following the above plan, I soon ceased to be an object of aversion on my annual rounds; on the contrary, there was always a general turn-out, or rather turn-in, throughout every department of authority or of obedience, of age or of sex. And if, in conclusion, a few simple questions were put to the younger part of the company, it was not till their eyes had become accustomed to my presence, and they had ceased to regard me as any thing portentous or supernatural.

It is thus that a minister becomes acquainted with his flock, and that he feels along the varied and ramified lines of his pastoral connexion, with a quick and excited sensibility. It is thus that a flock becomes acquainted with their minister, and that every thing in which he is interested, from his cow to his children, his health to his harvest, becomes to them common interest and common feeling. It is thus that the hearts and the souls of a virtuous population are suspended in kindly and close embrace around the image of their pastor, and that, when he ascends the pulpit-stair on Sabbath, the joyous whisper pervades the house, " It's himsell the day!"

Thus circumstanced, what may not a country clergyman do? He may fish, but not carry a gun; he may dance, at least amongst his own children; he may curl, when the season admits, but the seldomer he dines with the club the better; he may attend masonic processions, but not make speeches during the evening; he may labour in his garden from morning to night, but not without his upper garments; he may read newspapers, and all manner of periodicals, but never on Sabbath; he may conduct pleasure excursions to the tops of hills, and the isles of the ocean, but never on Saturday; he may lie in bed till ten every day, Sundays excepted, and when a friend arrives from the country, he may enjoy all manner of after-dinner potations, from the glass of welcome to the more protracted libation to “ Auld Langsyne;" he may tell queer stories, and laugh himself, as well as make others to laugh at them; in short, there is nothing short of moral delinquency and meanness in which he may not indulge himself, not only with safety, but even with advantage. The people are tired now of your old prigs with their solemn wigs, sombre faces, and adjusted cravats, with their measured steps, poised words, and humdrum wisdom, with their eyes upturned, and their shoes well blackened and buckled, with the all, in short, and the every joint and feature which constituted the "Minister of a Parish" in the year 1767. The times have changed, and with them the popular taste, and with that the minister, who is well known during these latter times to be made not of buckram and binding, but of flesh and blood; not of apathy and unattainable perfection, but of feelings, faculties, and good intentions; not of great pretensions, but of conscientious and efficacious performance. All this is wellkings do not now sit on thrones from day to day, and from year to year-noblemen are often dressed in a black neckkerchief, with gaiters-Wellington walks with an umbrella--and a Scotch minister can preach without gown or band, in the unpretending simplicity of a commissioned messenger of a lordly Master.


I HAVE just been reading Lockhart's Life of Burnswith what interest and satisfaction, it is not necessary to mention to any one who knows the character of the poet, or of his biographer. I shall never forget the interest with which, as a schoolboy, I first read a manuscript copy, for I had not then access to a printed one, of "Death and Dr Hornbook." It was beneath the shade of an old beech-tree, upon the lettered trunk of which the initials of some generations of schoolboys had been carefully and fancifully carved. I had the copy, imperfect as it was, from a school-fellow, long since numbered

with the greater proportion of my early compeers; and as I was limited in time, and out of the way of ink and paper, I fairly committed the whole narrative to memory. I never see the moon rise to this hour, without looking for her horns, and the distant hills of Cumnock; nor can I think of a country laird, without connecting him with the "bats, or some curmurring." The figure of Death, with his long beard, and still longer scythe, and "threetaed leister," are as vividly before me at this moment, as if the "clauchan yill" had made me canty, and I had taken some lee-ward lurches, or "bickers," on my return from dinner.

It may therefore be readily guessed with what interest I heard, one Thornhill fair day, that Burns was to visit the market. Boy as I then was, (in Autumn 1793,) an interest was awakened in me respecting this extraordinary man, which was sufficient, in addition to the ordinary attraction of a village fair, to command my presence in the market. Burns actually entered the fair about twelve; and man, wife, and lass, were all on the outlook for a peep of the Ayrshire ploughman. It was from beneath the corner of a shepherd's plaid that I took my first view, in the midst of a throng, of poet Burns. Every feature of his countenance, and the whole outline and bearing of his person and presence, remain still indelibly impressed upon my memory; and without attempting to do, what I might attempt in vain, I may refer to the original likeness of Burns in the Kilmarnock edition of his poems, as exceedingly faithful; only he was more robust and country-looking, but one remove separated, in air and cast of countenance, above the strong Dandie Dinmont looking person with whom he was conversing. As Satan glowered from his winnock bunker on a very different scene of the bard's own creation, so did I gaze, with unsatisfied and increasing eagerness, upon the author of "Death and Dr Hornbook." I could have wished to have seen him under the influence of the clauchan yill, to have identified the individual before me with the poet of the poem. I expected to hear him speak in numbers, for he was manifestly past lisping, but, to my astonishment and mortification, his talk was sufficiently prosaic, and the subject was ale licenses.

At this time Burns had, by the wrath of God, and the neglect of some person or persons, who shall be nameless for the present, been converted into a "gauger," and he was holding converse, as I afterwards understood, with a superior or supervisor of the same unpopular profession with himself. They separated, however, after a few sentences, and I carefully dogged Burns from stand to stand, and from door to door. An information had been lodged against a poor widow woman of the name of Kate Watson, who had ventured to serve a few of her old country friends with a draught of unlicensed ale, and a lacing of whisky, on this village jubilee. I saw him enter her door, and anticipated nothing short of an immediate seizure of a certain greybeard and barrel, which, to my personal knowledge, contained the contraband commodities our bard was in quest of. A nod, accompanied by a significant movement of the forefinger, brought Kate to the door-way or trance, and I was near enough to hear the following words distinctly uttered :--" Kate, are ye mad? D'ye no ken that the supervisor and me will be in upon you in the course of forty minutes. Guid-by t'ye at present." Burns was in the street, and in the midst of the crowd, in an instant, and I had access to know that his friendly hint was not neglected. It saved a poor widow woman from a fine of several pounds, for committing a quarterly offence, by which the revenue was probably subjected to an annual loss of five shillings. I have heard it said, that ere the infamous Clavers and his Lambs visited the retreats of the poor persecuted Covenanters, a friendly bird gave song of warning on the preceding evening. Burns's mission was of similar import, with this difference, however, that in the voice of the friends of the Covenant, the voice of the warner and that of the

approaching foe were not the same; when, as in that of which we are speaking, they were completely identified. Burns-the man-gave note of the approach of Burns, the guager.


We are at present insufferably stupid here. I do not deny that, in general, we are of a rather respectable grade of dulness, but our worthy and staid habit of heaviness may be carried too far. We may become even too ponderous, and, I fear, are at present in a predicament altogether the reverse of the man in the Arabian Tales, who found himself grow, day by day, more and more addicted to levity, till at length, like some people, who, however, fancy themselves very big, he had no weight whatever in society. The soaking weather of the last month has damped all our summer thoughts, as well as light waistcoats; and the rise in the steam-boat fares has "tethered" us wofully. Last season, five thousand people went once a-week to some part or other of the coast, who paid, on an average, 4s. each for going and returning. Some of the fares were certainly unconscionably cheap; but will the combined proprietors of steam-boats this year "nett" any greater profit, when only one thousand go at an average of double the money? Last year, it was alleged by the thirsty they might have cleared a thousand pounds a-piece by the ginger beer they could have sold !

Till our fair week, when numerous other booths for mountebanks open, Alexander's, which he calls the MIxoa THEATRE, from its attractions being for children, and its arrangements exhibiting a lack of discretion, I presume, is the only resource on a wet night, when "The Shakspeare" is crowded, "The Boot" filled up till it be too tight, and "The Vine" can cover no more with its shadow. All its wit is generally exhibited in the lobby, where its "Great Lessee" is as fond of giving examples of his oratory as upon the stage. Mackay has, however, drawn respectable houses for a few nights; but the rest of the corps dramatique are far inferior to a troop whom I had lately the pleasure to see performing so far north as the pleasant village of Doune, and scarcely so good as a rival corps who recently delighted the lieges at the Bridge of Allan, and were shown up in a felicitous style of burlesque, seldom met with in a provincial paper, in the Stirling Advertiser.

We all regret to see that Jones has taken leave of the stage. He was held in extraordinary favour and esteem herewhere, to see a gentleman on the boards, is such a rarity. There have been what are called "Fashionable Nights' in Alexander's, to be sure, when a few dressmakers' apprentices and men-milliners were beguiled of eighteen pence for a half-price seat in the boxes; but of course not a soul from any spot west of Bun's Wynd was visible. The dwellers in the region of civilisation preferred on the fine evenings to imitate your promenaders in the Queen Street Gardens the Botanic Garden here being the point of re-union, and the "fairer flowers" the attraction, who, in spite of strait corsets, are illogically beautiful. Some male wretches were wicked enough, however, to say that they merely went to hear the charming band of the 4th, or King's Own-which is led by an accomplished musician, named De Sauzay, whose cara sposaa dark-eyed Italian-was to my mind as beautiful an example of the brunette as were any of the native beauties present of the blonde. The regiment is extremely popular here; and when they were reviewed the other day, they were loudly cheered by more than the mob. Apropos of cheers-it was one of their manœuvres to charge cheering, in one line, as was done at Waterloo. It was magnificent! Never was the music of a crowd of human beings more thrilling, nor the admiration of a regular soldiery so likely to become most unradically enthusiastic. One felt truly ashamed of the state of the in

The sneers of envy, and, to me, much worse,
The truckling plaudits of the prostrate crew
Who know me not, yet barter for my smiles
The worthless homage of their selfish praise.


scription on Nelson's Pillar, as they passed it on their return to the city. It has been mutilated in a barbarous manner, and—will it be believed?—the first sacrilegious hand was that of a naval officer--but not of the R.N. Mentioning monuments leads me to remark, that every body is wondering when we are to have Watt's statue. I wish Chantry would not delay his works so long, especially as we are much in need of some ornamental structures at Glasgow, as was remarked the other day at a public meeting by a speaker, who said he was disinterested instead of uninterested. I suspect he but mistook a syllable; for, to a spectator, the struggle at present going on here between two parties, to take "the town' westward, or to bring it back to its old quarters, must appear marvellously like a contest--fair enough, perhaps --of nothing nobler than self-interest. The meeting alluded to was an imposing, but rather bungled affair-the resolutions being given to some of their movers apparently as lottery tickets are drawn--from a hat on entering the As an example of the magnifying influence of local associations, however, the copy of one of the speeches I send you is curious. I question whether the affair will result, however, in adding any thing so ornamental to Glasgow as the rocky height, known as the Merchant's Park, might become, if a suggestion, made by your servant a few years ago, to turn it into something similar to the cemetery of Père la Chaise, were followed out, as it is said is now intended. The talk about monuments has naturally led me to this grave subject. If the Glasgow authorities make the place what it is capable of being, you will say, surely the suggester will get six feet of space in it!


But this is sad joking, and so I'll conclude in another vein. A certain would-be bibliopole, desirous of emulating the Constables, Boyds, and Colburns of this century, lately opened a couple of windows at Johnston, and exhibited the beautiful woodcuts on the title-page of the Shorter Catechism to the wondering amateurs of the fine arts there with so much success, as to induce him to become printer as well as publisher. Forth with he set to throwing off an impression of a thousand copies--he was fond of round numbers-of a work "on Indwelling Sin." It threatened to be an indwelling sore in his shop; and he set off to Campbelton to sell a few in that pious place. A tobacco-seller and grocer gave him a cask of whisky for the lot--which, on his return, he disposed of to a popular publican; and now, when the wags of the place seek to wet their whistle, they gravely call for "a gill of indwelling sin!"—Adieu.



By Henry G. Bell.

On! I have never done what I can do,
And what I yet will compass. I look back
On all the childish efforts of my mind
With bitter self-abasement-scorn-hot tears ;-
They are as foam-bells on a summer sea;
And though they glitter in the idle eye,
A thousand gallant vessels tread them down,
Or in unconscious triumph pass them by,
To burst unheeded in their far-off wake!

Words are but words; and hundreds have aspired
As I have done,-yet " died, and made no sign."
But stern resolve, in secret foster'd long,—
Self-knowledge, chasten'd by maturer years,--
The fresh thoughts of my nature, intermix'd
With much that books and much that men have taught,-
The ardour of my boyhood, not extinct,

But less the slave of impulse,-these, and more—
Far more than these the quenchless thirst to be
One of the mighty-the undying few-
Nerve me to bear the dull routine of life,

Praise!-'tis a mockery that wounds my ear;
I seek not praise, but IMMORTALITY!
The common driveller in the common herd,———
Even he whose shallow mind is all pour'd forth
In one small channel-a base trickling rill--
May gain within his paltry sphere-his day
And generation--the poor meed of praise!
Better a thousand times to die unknown,
And rot in peace, beneath a grass-green sod,
Than share with such the littleness of fame!

Hear me, Eternal Spirit!-Strike me dead,
Now while I gaze upon thy midnight skies,
And long for life, that I may work therein
My being's aim,-great Spirit! strike me dead,
But chain me not to mediocrity!
The dull dead level of ignoble minds,
Who dare not climb the sunlit hills of God!
I claim, for I deserve, a better fate;
The spirit thou hast breathed into me wakes;
I will not trifle longer with the crowd;
I call unto myself the morning's wings,
That I may mount yon empyrean height !
Through clouds and mists the blazing sun ascends,
Why not the soul far o'er the gloom of earth?




UNSTRING that lyre! no gentle hand like thine

Should sweep its strings; their loftiest accents take
Their rise in passions that tumultuous shake
The human soul: thy spirit more divine
Should blend itself with quietness, and shine
As a bright sun on life's unquiet sea;

Oh! let its notes in all their passionate zeal
Arise unto, and not, alas! from thee.

Let it deep feelings tenderly reveal,
And thou wilt as a listening angel be;

Descend to touch it, and the charm is gone
That hovers round thee, ay, and most beguiles;
If thou wouldst give reply, be it alone
With loving-kindness and affectionate smiles.



THROUGH Woodland paths at evening's crimson'd hour,
A wanderer from the mountains loves to stray ;-
The music of the woods, when twilight grey
Obscures in filmy gloom each leafy bower,

Where sweet birds chant the dying hymn of day,-
The stream meand'ring on its foam-lit way,
Past village, grove, and ivy-mantled tower,---

The spotted deer, resting their antlers gay
'Neath shady boughs,—the dews on leaf and spray,—
And incense breathed from every halcyon flower,
Wake dreamy hopes in his ideal heaven!
From earliest youth to meditation given,
Unlike most idlers in this vale of tears,
He deeply feels all that he sees or hears.



THE grave is terrible in its deep rest;

For when the mystic veil of time is torn,
As the night yields to a succeeding morn,
Another life will dawn, and every breast

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We understand that the Bannatyne Club have nearly ready for circulation a very interesting volume of autobiography, by Sir James Turner,—the prototype of Sir Walter Scott's Captain Dalgetty. The Memoirs extend from 1633 to 1670-comprising a full narration of the Insurrection in Scotland in 1666. We are glad to learn that the work will not be limited to members of the Club, as it is intended to print a few copies for sale.

A new edition of White's Natural History of Selborne will form an early volume of Constable's Miscellany. Although the title of this work seems of a local nature, it is well known to be in reality an epitome of the Natural History of England, written in a pleasing and popular style.

Dr Wardlaw, of Glasgow, has a volume of Sermons in the press. Captain Dillon is preparing for the press a Narrative of an Expedition in search of La Perouse.

Captain Mignar, of the East India Company's Service, announces "Travels in Babylonia, Chaldæa," &c. The work will be illustrated with numerous engravings, and is said to contain many new and curious details respecting the once renowned cities of Babylon and Ctesiphon, and to elucidate many extraordinary predictions of Holy


The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly are about to be published in two volumes.

Bishop of Calcutta, for publication, interspersed with Memoirs of his Life.

The Life, Times, and Writings of Daniel Defoe, by Walter Wilson, Esq., in three volumes octavo, is announced.

Mr Alaric Watts is about to publish a second series of the Poetical Album, brought down to the present time.

NEW ANNUALS.-The new Annual, called "The Offering," is to be edited by Thomas Dale. We understand that, under the auspices of Messrs Hurst & Co., a Comic Annual is to be published, edited by Thomas Hood. "The Landscape Annual" is also announced.

The New Bath Guide, edited by the celebrated antiquarian Mr Britton, and embellished by George Cruickshank, is announced.

Theatrical Gossip.-Miss Kelley (not Miss F. H. Kelly, who is à piece of vulgar fudge,) has made her first appearance this season at the English Opera-house, in a new Drama, by Baynim, the novelist, called "The Sister of Charity." Both the actress and the thing acted have been received most favourably.-A farce called Manoeuvring," by Planchè, is having a run at the Haymarket.-The taste for masquerades appears to be reviving in this country, judging from the eclat attending that given a few nights ago at Drury Lane, The Fifth Part of Illustrations of Ornithology, by Sir William which was the second of the season.-It is said that Sontag is about Jardine, Bart. and P. J. Selby, Esq. has just appeared; and we shall to be lost to us for ever; and Madame Malibran has slightly hurt her probably have something to say of this splendid work next Saturday. elbow, which makes it extremely difficult for her to sing at present! We are informed that Captain Brown has in the press a work to -Matthews and Yates, the Castor and Pollux of the Drama, are be entitled "Biographical Sketches and Authentic Anecdotes of about to visit Paris.-Miss Smithson is playing in a quiet way at Horses;" with an Historical Introduction, and an Appendix on the Cheltenham. It is to be feared that this lady will sorely repent haDiseases and Medical Treatment of the Horse. It is to be illustrated ving risked in this country the extraordinary reputation she had by figures of the different breeds, and portraits of celebrated or re- gained abroad.-The Misses Tree (Ann and Ellen) are at Liverpool. markable horses; these are to be engraved on steel by Mr Lizars, in-We understand that the Patent of the Theatre-Royal here has been his best style. This work is intended as a companion for the work renewed for twenty-one years. A correspondent says, that L.2000 on dogs, by the same author, recently published, which has deser- of annual rent may be got for the Theatre here. If this be the case, vedly met with so favourable a reception. it is evident, that under the present system something handsome may be made of it if spiritedly conducted. We sincerely hope that Mr Murray is not idle at present. What would he think of bringing Miss Graddon here, (if he can get her) with the view of her becoming a permanent member of the company, in the place of Miss Noel, should she be liked?—The Caledonian Theatre, under Mr Bass, seems to be thriving;-a recent importation which he has made of tal

We recommend to the attention of our readers an ingenious pamphlet, just published, entitled "Thoughts on the Liquidation of the Public Debt, and on the Relief of the Country from the Distress incident to a Population exceeding the Demand for Labour."

NEW PERIODICAL.-We have received the first number of the Elgin Literary Magazine, which is a neat little work, prettily ed, and amusingly written. We daresay it will secure a respectable provincial circulation.

print-let-dancers from London, has been a hit. Mesdames Vedy and Albert

are really worth seeing. We warn Mr Bass, however, that if he intends remaining during winter, we do not propose patronising him unless the histrionic strength of his company be very greatly increased, and his selection of minor pieces more judicious.-Mackay is at present starring it in Glasgow, with Alexander, and seems to be enchanting the whole population of that city.-Ryder, we believe, has been performing in the good town of Kirkaldy, with a pretty de

centish company.

Lieutenant Hardy, who has been sojourning for several years in Mexico, is engaged in writing an account of his travels, which will illustrate the state of society, and the manners and customs in that capital.

The Loseley Papers-a collection of original letters and other MS. documents, chiefly of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, preserved at the ancient seat of the More family at Loseley, in Surrey, edited with connective and incidental notes-are announced by that valuable contributor to our ancient lore, Mr A. J. Kempe. This work contains curious documents relative to the period of Henry VIII.

The publication has been gravely announced at Paris of a Treatise raisonne on the education of the domestic cat, preceded by its philosophical and political history, and followed by the treatment of its disorders. The author's name is ominous-Monsieur Raton! ANIMAL MAGNETISM.-The late experiments in Animal Magnetism appear to have turned the heads of many of the Parisians; and proposals are already handed about for the formation of a Company, who are to erect Baths, in which the supposed advantages of Animal Magnetism and Electricity may be obtained. Something of this kind was tried in Vienna, more than 40 years ago, and, for a time, the scheme was much in vogue; but, at length, some of the leading physicians wrote against it, and it fell away gradually, until nothing more was heard of it.

ROYAL PHYSICAL SOCIETY, 7TH JULY, 1829.—Mr James Murray read an interesting paper on animal heat, of which we regret that our space prevents our giving any analysis. An Essay was next read by Mr Mackeon, on habit. Among other things, the author noticed many of those instances of the force of habit, which daily present themselves to the medical practitioner. He showed that the animal system would become habituated even to swallow as much poison as would kill from four to six persons unaccustomed to its use, especially of opium, tobacco, and ardent spirits. He mentioned a person who accustomed himself to take half a gallon of ardent spirits daily; which in course of time brought on some dreadful diseases, for which no remedy afforded relief but that which produced the disease. Amongst many other changes produced by habit on our system, he also alluded to the remarkable one connected with the use of hearing. It is well known, that people unaccustomed to the noise of a cotton or flax spinning mill, when they enter it, cannot hear words which are roared into their ears, whilst all the workers are con versing amidst the deafening noise, with as much ease as in the open air. It takes some weeks to become accustomed to such sounds. The word hiss can, with greater facility than any other, be heard in a room which is filled with any kind of machinery in motion.


THE EDITOR IN HIS SLIPPERS, No. III., and Poetry by Charles Doyne Sillery, and others, in our next.

We are obliged to postpone our second notice of Captain Hall's Travels in North America till next Saturday.

We shall probably find a place for "The Laird's Bride."—" F. H." writes to inform us that he had committed an error in his card of the previous day, but his card of the previous day never reached us."The Song of the Spirit-From an Unpublished Tragedy," is rather Mrs Heber is cccupied in arranging the Correspondence of the late mystical.-"Plagiarism" in our next CHIT-CHAT.

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