Che Spirit of the Magazines. -00 THE PIRATE. A YOUNG gentleman of Ireland having squandered a good estate, escaped from his creditors on board a vessel bound for the West Indies. Unacquainted with any condition except the gay and the dissipated, he entertained sanguine hopes that a relation in Jamaica would soon put him in the way of retrieving his fortune; but he was too late convinced of his own incapacity to earn what he deemed a tolerable livelihood. He could not undertake the profession either of a lawyer, physician, or surgeon; and though his friends might have procured for him a clerical living, he had no education suitable for a divine, and he reflected in bitterness upon his negligence at school and at college. He could not even write a legible hand; his knowledge of arithmetic was superficial, and of book-keeping he was quite ignorant. Of what use to him were now his elegant dancing; his fine performance on the violin, flute, and clarionet; his graceful manners and high fashion? These accomplishments served but to unfit him for the drudgery of a bookkeeper; yet to that toil and humiliation he must submit, or sink into utter destitution. He passed three months attending the field negroes, without any alleviation of his despondency, excepting a ray of selfcomplacency afforded by an exercise of humanity to the beings so entirely at his mercy; and even this was mixed with inquietude, as the overseer, a turbulent despotic clown, blamed his lenity for every error committed by the slaves. He was unhappy; his self-respect and all finer feelings were impaired; yet his soul would have revolted at the turpitude to which, within the space of twelve months, he became familiarized. A few steps in folly may lead to crimes. Such were the consequences to Mr. Rodnam; and, on the other hand, one great effort in returning to the path of honour extricated him from profound degradation. Sunday was the only time he could obtain any relaxation from his field duties, including the charge of giving out provisions for the slaves, which he was likewise obliged to attend to at certain daily periods. Sunday he would gladly have given to convivial pleasures, if the want of gentlemanly habits in his only associates had not filled him with disgust: he therefore strayed alone to the sea-shore, fixed his eyes upon the great Atlantic Ocean, and thought of dear little Ireland, the scene of youthful joys. About the end of three months, the overseer rudely reprimanded him for sparing the whip, and made some gross allusion to the silly womanish tenderness of poor gentlemen. Mr. Rodnam's Hibernian spirit flashed out in the most pointed yet indirect ridicule of plebeian brutality. He saw that the overseer appropriated the derision to himself, and was aware that he could and would avenge it. Stung by wounded pride, and not without strong presentiments of more insufferable insult, he wandered to his accustomed solitude. Transported by vehement emotion, he sometimes wrung his hands, beat his forehead, or sat woefully ruminating upon the misery of a civilized mortal, removed from all with whom he could assimilate, and subject to the tyranny of a savage. In these agonies, or melancholy reveries, time imperceptibly elapsed; he had walked along the beach unheeding how far, and when he looked at his watch, the last relic of better days, he saw that his time had been outstaid by two hours. He reprobated his own imprudence in giving the overseer such advantage against him; and while occupied by this idea, a stout man, with a weather-beaten visage, accosted him in a high Irish accent with much kindly warmth, expressing his sorrow to observe a fine young gentleman so troubled in mind. The voice of a countryman, the effusions of sympathy so long unheard, dismissed from the mind of Rodnam the little caution which he began to learn from the severe lessous of experience. He frankly related his former errors, his present mortifications, and his foreboding of added indignities from the rugged Overseer. The stranger bade him take heart; there was good help at hand. He commanded a ship, which lay at a small distance; his barge was in a creek hard by, and would receive his jewel of an Irish lad then, or late in the evening; but it would be wisest to go back to the plantation, take away his things, and come to the easternmost point as the sun went down. A few years in trade to the East Indies would make him richer than any Creole of the West. Mr. Rodnam accepted the proposal, and ratified the agreement by shaking hands with Captain Monaghan. t On returning to the plantation, he had the satisfaction of hearing that the overseer had been absent all day, and was not expected till very late; he began to hesitate upon throwing himself entirely under the power of a stranger; but recollecting his unconditional engage. ment, he determined not to break it. He was taken on board, and with horror discovered that he was involved with pirates; but each had a story to tell in palliation of his opposition to the laws that formerly aggrieved him in partiality to the powerful and wealthy. Rodnam regarded their offences as the effects of just resentment; and living in luxury and ease, he falsely concluded, that the pirates were really better men than the oppressors of the sable race, who never shared with him their abundant gratifications. To divert the crew with instrumental music and singing, to go on shore as spokesman, for which he was admirably qualified by his handsome figure, and his polite insinuating address, were all the duties required of him. In deed, he was also deputed to attend the nocturnal balls so frequently held by people of colour, and to entice away Mulatto girls. After being detained on board, leading the most dissolute life, those wretched victims were sold to the highest bidders on the coast of Spanish America. The pirates made several prizes, and Rodnain silenced the remonstrances of conscience by calling to remembrance the manifold wrongs alleged by the crew against traders in general; and he said to himself, that it was reprisal, not piracy, since no bloodshed, no cruelty, accompanied the seizure. This last quietus was of brief duration. A vessel made determined resistance: the pirates boarded, and by numerical superiority vanquished her bravé crew. Her cargo was the most valuable they had taken since Rodman joined them; but the life-blood of the captors and captured streamed along the deck, and the heart of our Hibernian died as it were within him when the dialect of Great Britain saluted his ear. His courage in boarding had drawn huzzas of applause from his intrepid messmates; but at that moment the encomiums of ruffian spoilers and murderers were odious, as the guilt of several had the aggravation of being committed to the injury of their country. men. (To be continued.) NAPLES, AND ITS INHABITANTS. "A peculiar feature which strikes me in the character of the Nea politans, is their seeming indifference to the opinion which strangers may entertain of their countrymen. The first expressions I heard from the natives on my entering the harbour, and which I have since heard frequently repeated, were violently abusive of their own nation, accusing their countrymen of want of honour, faith and charity. A Neapolitan will often express his disdain of his own countrymen in the presence of strangers, so as to puzzle these about the manner how to behave on such an unexpected occasion.-The only explanation of this phenomenon seems to be, that these people being really persuaded of the inferiority of their moral state, by the daily experience they have of it in their intercourse with their countrymen, and by comparing their behaviour with that of the numerous strangers who visit their country, cannot help expressing what they feel on the subject, with all their natural vivacity. Shame, the last lingering attendant of virtue, seems to be lost in the general corruption, and patriotism to have fled from the soil. There is a strong prejudice in other parts of Italy against the Neapolitans; many of the latter seem to be so convinced of this, as to appear unwilling, when abroad, to acknowledge themselves as such.-Decency and delicacy are not conspicuous in the manners of the inhabitants of this country. Every thing is done in public; the conversation runs upon the most extraordinary topics, and with as little disguise as possible. Boys are running about the streets, especially near the sea, in a state of nakedness, or nearly so. The entrances and stairs of the houses and palaces are filled with every kind of nuisance. The windows and balconies are generally left open, so that every thing is to be seen which is going on in a neighbour's house. Neapolitans of almost all classes, when they come home, during the summer, that is to say, six months in the year, take off their coats and neckcloths, and sit down to dinner with their shirt sleeves tucked seen up to their elbows. This takes place also at the restaurateurs or eating-houses. Ladies perform their toilet with the doors of their dressing rooms ajar, in sight of servants and visitors. All this, however, admits of some excuse, as the heat of the weather is in a great measure one of the principal causes of such indelicate customs. The greatest familarity prevails between masters and servants. The former often joke and laugh with the latter, and talk confidentially of their affairs and intrigues before them; some even play at cards with them: it is natural, therefore, to expect no reverence nor subordination from domestics who are the confidants of all their master's foibles or vices. This renders Neapolitan servants perhaps the very worst in the world. They are dirty, lazy, and careless; insolent and unfaithful. They are in general notoriously dishonest, so as to the world. Still the difficulty of au unwelcome monitor, and whatever they do is marked with thoughtlessness and want of foresight. If a funeral passes by, although it be that of a friend, "salute a noi," "long life to us," they exclaim, shrugging up their shoulders with undisguised selfishnesss. If they are in want of cash they contract debts which they have not the means of ever acquitting, without reflecting that this course will lead them ultimately to prison, or to an hospital. They eat as if they were taking their last meal; it is a commòn occurrence on Christmas eve among poor people to pledge or sell their clothes, their seanty furniture, and even their beds, to be able to fegale themselves on the following day. A want of decorum and good breeding is observable in their manner. They are noisy and disorderly in their parties, indiscreet in their questions and reflections, indelicate and vulgar in their language, vain, boastful, and exaggerating. Their broad stare in the streets is peculiarly offensive to a stranger. From what I have said, it will appear that I look upon Naples as one of the most corrupt cities in Europe. It is, however, a corruption different from that of other capitals, such as Paris or London; it is a mixture of the rudeness of a people half savage, for such is the state of the lower classes, with the vices of luxury and civilization fostered among the upper ones. Hydrophobia is the word with our quidnuncs and sages, Who declare canine madness so terribly rages, That all dogs and puppies should be immolated, Aud to Pluto's grim regions be instantly translated. Indeed, my dear Sam, this crusade against dogs, Is as wise as that made by the Turks against hogs; But perhaps you may think, to account My Lord Mayor and the rest may have THE tower of Tillietudlem stood, or perhaps yet stands, upon the angle of a very precipitous bank, formed by the junction of a considerable brook with the Clyde. There was a narrow bridge of one steep arch, across the brook near its mouth, over which, and along the foot of the high and broken bank, winded the public road; and the fortlatice, thus commanding both bridge and pass, had beeu, in times of war, a post of considerable importance, the possession of which was necessary to secure the communication of the upper and wilder districts of the country with those beneath, where the valley expands, and is more capable of cultivation. The view downwards is of a grand woodland character; but the level ground and gentle slopes near the river form cultivated fields of an irregular form, interspersed with hedgerow trees and copses, the inclosures seeming as it were to have been cleared out of the forest which surrounds them, and which occupies, in unbroken masses, the steeper declivities and more distant banks. The stream, in colour a clear and sparkling brown, like the hue of the cairngorum pebbles, rushes through this romantic region in bold sweeps and curves, partly visible and partly concealed by the trees which clothe its banks. With a providence unknown in other parts of Scotland, the peasants have, in most places, planted orchards around their cottages, and the general blossom of the apple-tree at this season of the year gave all the lower part of the view the appearance of a flower-garden Looking up the river, the character of the scene was varied considerably for the worse. A hilly, waste, and uncultivated country approached close to the banks; the trees were few, and limited to the neighbourhood of the stream, and the rude moors swelled at a little distance into shapeless and heavy hills, which were again surmounted in their turn by a range of lofty mountains, dimly seen on the horizon. Thus the Tower commanded two prospects, the one richly cultivated and highly adorned, the other exhibiting the monotonous and dreary character of a wild and inhospitable moor-land. ON ANGLING. A fool at one end, and a worm at t'other, A Wag describes each jolly bobbing brother; By anxious sportsmen this may be denied, When R t angles, 'tis exemplified. L. H.C. THE DUTIFUL HEIR. OLD Gripus is dead, and is now with the devil! To part with his money, sore grieved the old man; But dutitul Rakely, his heir, is so civil, Is sending it after him as fast as he can. COUNT TOTTLEBEN. COUNT TOTTLEBEN, so celebrated in the history of Germany for his numerous adventures, and the strange vicissitudes of his fortune, was once, while a general in the Russian service, on a journey from Warsaw to Petersburgh. Travelling in a light open chaise, accompanied by a single servant, he was one day overtaken by a violent storm, in the province of Livonia, twelve or fifteen miles from the town where he had intended to pass the night. The season was cold, the evening advanced, and he was himself wet to the skin; the rain contributed to render it still darker. A decent publichouse that stood detached by the roadside very opportunely presented itself to our traveller. He alighted and entered, resolving to set out so much earlier the next morning. room. The people of the house seemed very attentive and obliging. He was shewn into a room up stairs that was clean and neat, was promised a good supper, and, in short, Tottleben had every reason to be satisfied with his accommodation. Accustomed from his youth to a wandering life, he used when in houses of public entertainment to pass very little time in his own apartment, but to associate with the other guests in the public There he entered into conversation with every one, whether a foreigner or a native, was affable, and even humorous; knew how to give and take a joke; told stories, and listened to those of others; and to this sociable disposition he joined prepossessing manners, and a figure distinguished for manly beauty. He seldom met with a man who was not pleased with his company; and still more rarely with a female who was not, at least secretly, interested in his favour. If she betrayed her sentiments of him, he was ready to take the slightest hint, and to avail himself of every advantage. On the present occasion he adhered to his usual custom, and passed an hour or more below in the tap-room. He conversed with the host, who had formerly been in the military service, and still more with the hostess, a young, extremely pretty woman, but now pregnant, and near her time. He offered to stand godfather for her first-born; jocosely enquired how her husband behaved; asked how she liked the marriage state, and predicted that she should have a son, or perhaps two at a birth. In a word, he indulged in that sort of chit-chat, which young females of that condition and under such circumstances are fond of hearing, though they may pretend, that from modesty they cannot raise their eyes from the floor. During this conversation a young servant maid was frequently backward and forward in the same room. The count might possibly not have observed her, but she had taken so much the more notice of him. His handsome figure, the vivacity of his conversation, and even the foreign uniform which he wore, delighted her. She could have listened to him for a day together, but would have been still better pleased to converse with him herself. She was, besides, acquainted with a subject that very nearly concerned him; of which it was necessary he should soon be informed, otherwise it would be too late. His ignorance, his security afflicted her; at the same time her interference was likely to cost her dear. Nevertheless, as often as she looked at him, she thought within herself, "No, he is too amiable!" At length she could refrain no longer; and as she passed him, she pulled him by the coat. Tottleben perceived it. He looked at the girl, and observed her wink at him, but for what reason he knew not. From the usual vanity of his sex, he was not long, however, before he ascribed her conduct to one, which seemed as though it might have admitted a little farther delay. However, the girl was young, and, in his opinion, not a bad figure; there could be no harm in looking at her, and hearing what she had to say. Accordingly, when she had gone away again, he withdrew, under the pretext of taking a little fresh air. She was already waiting for him at the door of the kitchen; she beckoned him to go into the yard, followed him in haste and agitation, and thus addressed him : "For God's sake, sir, take care of yourself! You are not among such honest people as you imagine. They know you have money with you. They intend to-night to rob you not only of that, but also of your life; and for this purpose they have already sent for assistance. Be upon your guard; but for God's sake, do not betray me. If they perceive that I have given you warning, it will cost me my life, that I am sure of: but yet I could not, for my soul, suffer such a brave officer and so fine a gentleman to be cut off in his sins." This address, as may easily be conceived, made a deep impression upon Tottleben. A man of ordinary understanding would immediately have sought the means of escape by flight. He, though he had but a moment for reflec |