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to do), and to marry them to whom they pleased. But Mr. took upon him the power of being Pope for once, in giving the two ladies a dispensation from their vows, and married them the day after they declared themselves Protest ants. From the time of their escape, till they were married, they continued in the lodgings of their two lovers; but the doors and windows of the room where they lay, were sealed up every night, before the priests, and opened before them in the morning, in order to satisfy their relations that these gentlemen had, no communication with them. When their marriage put an end to this ceremony, dreadful was the outcry; for their relations thought that there was more occasion for shut doors than ever; and they never will look upon them in the light of these gentlemen's wives. The unmarried lady was put in the Master of -'s house, under the care of his lady, where she immediately got a crowd of admirers, and was married in a month's time to another officer.

It is not to be conceived into what a

ferment this adventure threw the whole island. All their relations, (which are the best families in the place), all their magistrates, and all their clergy, were constantly harrassing the General, complaining of the sacrilege that was committed, and petitioning, that they might either be returned back to their convent, or delivered up into their relations' hands; they did not say, to put them to death; but doubtless that would have been their fate, if either of these demands had been granted. When they found that they could not succeed with him, they laid a scheme of making reprisals, and of carrying them off: for one evening, taking advantage of one of the gentlemen being abroad, and having bribed one of the servants, his wife's mother, and some of her relations, came into his house and carried her away by force. Their design was to have sent her in a boat to Majorca, which was but a very little way from this island, and there put her into the Inquisition. The gates of the town being immediately shut, and guards placed to suffer nobody to go out, a search was made for two days, but to no purpose: and, till orders were issued to put all those concerned in carrying her off in prison, and they were threatened with death, they would not produce her. At last, fear compelled them to deliver her up. They kept her in bed all the time she was among them, and would not suffer her to put on her clothes, lest she should run away from them, or get to the windows, and call out to any of the

English ; but did not use her any otherwise ill, knowing it would have been retaliated upon them. They brought a priest to re-convert her, whose endeavours were all in vain; she had tasted too much of: the sweets of liberty, to think any more of convents and cells.

One of the ladies made a Spanish song upon their coming out of the nunnery, which a gentleman turned into English, to the tune of, By Jove I'll be free.

N. B. Mr. A. L. says, that the third line of the song, Leave your cords, &c. "Alludes to a cord which the nuns tie about their middle, to keep their habit together; one end of which hangs down to their toes, full of knots, with which they ought to whip themselves, by way of mortification. But the mother abbess, fearing they do as Sancho Pança did, whip the trees instead of their backs, has an old surgeon, who comes twice in a month, and physics and bleeds all those who have too much health, or too good a complexion."

Copy of a Letter from a Country Actor, sent with an Old Hat to the Hatter's.

DEATH and destruction to Beaver Toppers! Silk this castor, you varletfor you shall know, and so shall the world,

"What his charity impairs,
He saves by prudence in affairs."
-N. B.

I mean to economise,
So prithee modernize
The rim just as it should be:
And, by the bye, understand, shallow
skimmers are fashionable,—

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." But fashion's "Fickle as the wind still changcing,"-" "Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands,"

"Breathes there a man whose so ul so dead, who never to himself has said,

muse

These hatters can "Change shapes with
Proteus for advantages,"" O for
on fire,”—“ I will a tale unfold," how my
last new chapeau (" as some tall cliff that
lifts its awful form"), whose lustre scarce
theDew of Heaven" has dimm'd, must

now, through this all-ruling fashion, be,
"The proud man's contumely"—"That
to be hated needs but to be seen," and
worn with "All its imperfections on his
head,-"For who would bear the whips
and scorns of Time"-" To you I speak,

with words far bitter than wormwood"-say, shall I doff the ignoble sign ("Think of reflection's stab!")"It must be so."-" Plato, thou reasonest well,"

THE CUTS BY THE CELEBRATED BEWICK.

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No. VII. THE EMPRESS.

And all the inhabitants of the Earth are reputed as nothing: and he doeth according to his will in the army of Heaven, and among the inhabitants of the Earth. DANIEL, iv. 35.

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IN the midst of a pompous march, in the court of a great palace, Death, who seems here to do the office of a gentlemanusher, leads this princess to the brink of the grave, and shews her the bounds within which all her grandeur is to be

confined.

A correspondent of the Liverpool Kaleidescope, in a note to the editor, gives the following specimen of historical research, worthy of being classed with the good things uttered by Cowslip, in O'Keeffe's farce of the Agreeable Surprise: "I am somewhat in the predica ment of the auctioneer, who, at a sale of antiques, put up a helmet with the following observation: "This, ladies and gemmen, is a helmet of Romuls, the Roman founder; but whether it was a brass or iron founder, I can't tell.

M. Fr. Kaufmann, of Dresden, bas invented a new musical instrument, which unites the tones of the flute and piano. He has given it the name of Chordaulodion. He has also completed his famous automaton trumpeter.

No. VIII. THE QUEEN.

Rise up, ye women that are at ease; hear my voice, ye careless daughters; give ear unto my speech. DANIEL; xxxii. 9.

DEATH, arrayed in the habits of folly, drags away violently this young Princess, just as she is coming out of her palace to enjoy the pleasure of walking. With terror painted in her countenance, she is making the air resound with mournful cries; the maid of honour, who accompanies her, agitated with the most violent despair, is imploring the aid of Heaven, while the buffoon is making vain efforts to defend her against Death, who holds aloft his glass, to shew that the fatal hour is come.

7

A BEGGAR'S LEGACY.

The ex

A beggar, whose constant station was at the door of the church of San Carlo, at Milan, left as a legacy to the canons of the church, a hat which he was always in the habit of wearing, for the purchase of four paintings as altar pieces to the church, which were to be executed by four great Italian masters. ecutor to the will was in doubt whether he should present the whimsical legacy, when a friend of the deceased, entering, seized a pair of scissors, and on making an incision in the old castor, out dropped eight hundred pieces of Florentine gold, which had been ingeniously imbedded in the lining. This man, before turning beggar, had exercised the profession of the law in the Cisalpine republic.

DER FRIESCHUTZ. By this time all the world has, or ought to have, heard of that most extraordinary, grand, and of course successful opera, called, and known by the name of Der Freischutz, or it is not the fault of the manager of the English Opera House; for in all the the annals of puffing (and we live in a puffing age), never was any piece more powerfully and less deservedly puffed than this. Every superlative in the English tongue has been lugged into the play bills of the day; and to use the words of the inimitable Matthews, every man must, nolens volens, believe this to be a pretty, particular, uncommon good production.

Recalling to mind the pleasure we had experienced from the representation of Frankenstein, we had some hopes of a repetition of that pleasure from this production of Webers. We were also to be "electrified" by the overture, an overture which never had a parallel, which by the way is true enough, for it is like nothing on carth, in the heavens above the earth, or in the waters under the earth: never can the overture to Der Freischutz be called a fine composition, until noise and confused sounds pass for harmony. Instead of being electrified," we were well nigh being frightened, for we know of nothing that this overture will come in comparison with, except it be a storm at sea, and even here the simile will not altogether suit, as there was all the horror, hurry, and bustle of "hazy weather," as a seaman would express it, without one symptom of the grandeur, the terrific majesty of a tempest. The screaming and squalling of the women, the crying and sighing of the children, and the hoarse vulgar voice of the sailor, were all exemplified; but nevertheless, all these attendant circumstances on a storm, which tend to impress the mind with awe, and awaken the soul to a poetical though terrible sense of the warring of the elements,-all these were omitted.

Now all the instruments "strike up together," each striving to make a greater noise than its neighbour, and all certainly noisy enough; now they degenerate, (happily enough for the ears of the audience,) into a low, murmuring, grumbling key; and now they emit a sound so much like the cackling of a hen, that we are by turns frightened, displeased, and laughing at the manifold absurdity of this precious overture. We have spoken of the pleasure we experienced at the representation of Frankenstein; that had then something in

tellectual about it, but in this there is character likely to arrest attention, the nothing to interest the mind. The only Devil, is seen but three times, and then transiently, and he is heard but once. The incantation scene is, however, very imposing indeed; but we observed one half the audience laughing at it; the old witch, the little boys dressed like frogs and toads, and the shouting of the little devils, remind us strongly of a "bogles," which when in childhood we were very fond of talking about. Satan's invisible world discovered in miniature the operations of the devil, his agents, and friends, and all the warlocks, wizards, and witches in England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, since the reign of the Norman bastard. But after all, the piece is well adapted for a mixed audience: the incantation scene and the devil will amuse the children, and the songs will amuse the adults; but for the other parts, we really must beg pardon for saying they will amuse nobody.

hearing an overture without music, and The penance which we endured in witnessing a representation without any plot, or well marked character in it, was forgotten in the pleasure with which we saw the "Reign of Twelve Hours," aud the inimitable Miss Kelly; and had the first piece been equal to the last, we should not have had the very unpleasant task of condemning it to eternal perdition. But, perhaps, it may be asked, what is the success, or rather the endurance of this shocking and hideous made, and as easily answered :—To the drama owing to? A question easily exquisite acting, the excellent scenery, and though last, not least, the delightful singing by Braham and Miss Nicholes ; and Now we shall not be at all surprised at the piece acquiring even a respectable Stephens, has lent her powerful aid to it. name, as that sweet-tongued syren, Miss

DESCRIPTION OF

HIGHLAND MANNERS. THE following sketch by Dr. Maculloch is highly descriptive of Highland manners and entertainment: "When you hear Peggy called, as if the first vowel was just about to thaw, like Sir John Mandeville's story, and when you hear Peggy anwser, co-ming, you must not prepare to be impatient, but recollect that motion cannot be performed without time. you are wet, the fire will be lighted by the time you are dry,-at least if the peat is not wet too. The smoke of wet peat is wholesome; and if you are not used to it, they are, which is the same thing.

If

DESCRIPTION OF HIGHLAND MANNERS.

:

There is neither poker nor tongs; you can
stir it with your umbrella: nor bellows;
you can blow it, unless you are asthmatic
or what is better still, Peggy will fan it
with her petticoat. "Peggy, is the sup-
per coming?"
In time comes mutton,
called chops, then mustard, by and bye a
knife and fork; successively, a plate, a
candle, and salt. When the mutton is
cold, the pepper arrives, and then the
bread, and lastly the whisky. The water
is reserved for the second course. It is
good policy to place these various matters
in all directions, because they conceal the
defects of Mrs. Maclarty's tablecloth. By
this time the fire is dying; Peggy waits
till it is dead, and then the whole process
of the peats and the petticoat is to be gone
over again. It is all in vain. "Is the
bed ready?" By the time you have fallen,
asleep once or twice, it is ready. When
you enter, it is damp: but how should it
be dry in such a climate? The blankets
feel so heavy, that you expect to get warm
in time. Not at all: they have the
property of weight without warmth,
though there is a fulling millat Kilmahog.
You awaken at two o'clock very cold,
and find, that they have slipped over on
the floor. You try to square them again,
but such is their weight that they fall on
the other side; and at last, by dint of
kicking and pulling, they become irreme-
diably entangled, sheets and all, and sleep
flies, whatever King Henry may think, to
take refuge in other beds and other blankets.

"It is vain to try again, and you get up at five. Water being so contemptibly common, it is probable that there is none present; or if there is, it has a delicious flavour of stale whisky; so that you may al most imagine the Highland rills to run grog. There is no soap in Mrs. Maclarty's house. It is prudent also to learn to shave without a looking-glass; because if there is one, it is so furrowed and striped and striated, either cross-wise, or perpendicularly, or diagonally, that in consequence of what Sir Isaac Newton might call its fits of irregular reflection and transmission, you cut your nose if it distorts you one way, and your ear if it protracts you in the opposite direction. The towel being either wet or dirty, or both, you wipe yourself in the moreen curtains, unless you prefer the sheets. When you return to'your sitting-room, the table is covered with glasses and mugs, and circles of dried whisky and porter. The fire-place is full of white ashes; you labour to open a window, if it will open, that you may get a little of the morning air; and there being no sash-line, it falls on your fingers, as it did on Susanna's Should you break a pane, it is of no con.

315,

sequence, as it will never be mended again. The clothes which you sent to be washed are brought up wet, and those which you sent to be dried, smoked.

"You now become impatient for the breakfast; and as it will not arrive, you go into the kitchen to assist in making the kettle boil. You will not accelerate this, but you will see the economy of Mrs. Maclarty's kitchen. The kettle, an inch thick, is hanging on a black crook in the smoke, not on the fire, likely to boil tomorrow. If you should be near a forest, there is a train of chips lying from the fire-place to the wood-corner, and the landlady is busy, not in separating the two, but in picking out any stray piece that seems likely to be lighted before its turn comes. You need not ask why the houses do not take fire, because it is all that the fire itself can do, with all its exertions. Round this fire are a few oat cakes, stuck on edge in the ashes to dry'; perhaps a herring; and on the floor, at hand, are a heap or two of bed-clothes, a cat, a few melancholy fowls, a couple of black dogs, and perchance a pig, or more, with a pile of undescribables, consisting of horse collars, old shoes, petticoats, a few dirty plates and horn spoons, a kilt, possibly a bagpipe, a wooden beaker, an empty gill and a pint stoup, a water bucket, a greasy candlestick, a rake, a spinning wheel, two or three frowsy fleeces, and a shepherd's plaid, an iron pot full of potatoes, a never-washed milk-tub, some more potatoes, a griddle, a threelegged stool, and heaven and earth knows what more. All this time, two or three naked children are peeping at you out of some unintelligible recess, perchance contesting with the chickens and the dogs for the fire, while Peggy is sitting over it unsnooded, one hand in her head, and the other, no one knows where, as she is wondering when the kettle will not boil; while, if she had a third, it might be employed on the other two. But enough of Mrs. Maclarty and her generation; for I am sure you can have no inclination to partake with me of the breakfast which will probably be ready in two hours."The Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland.

THE REASON WHY.

In absence of dire war's alarms,
And all its cutting and its slashing,
The soldiers now are up in arms,
Gainst bags and reticules are dashing.
No one must carry bag or bundle,
You'll think that it an omen ill is,
Or through the park a barrow trundle;
That such our great commander's will is;
Be not alarmed, I'll solve it in a crack,-
He must hate bags, who once has had the sack.*
IH.S.
,"—a cant phrase for “ turned

"Had the sack," out of place,"

Spirit of the Magazines.

-00

Mr. HOG'S ACCOUNT OF THE CARNIVAL AT ROME. DURING the carnival, all the inhabitanes of Rome, that can either walk or be driven there, flock in masquerade to the Corso. From the carriages it is the custom to throw handfuls of little white balls, like sugar-plums, at passengers and each other. The most favourite masque

rade dresses are old-fashioned embroidered coats, with wigs, and oldfashioned silk gowns and head-dresses, in such variety, that it appears a matter of astonishment where they all come from. Polichinellos entirely white, mask and all, is another favourite dress. Banditti or assassins, in scarlet and gold, with daggers, boys like demons, &c.

Besides the masquerade in the streets during the day, there is another at night at the large theatre Aliberti, in the Strada Babbuina. On the last day of the carnival, there are horse races for horses without riders. At this period the people of Rome, ecclesiastics and all, seem to indemnify themselves for the want of amusements during the rest of the year.

During the holy week there is so great a concourse of strangers to Rome, that unless you have lodgings beforehand, it is next to impossible to obtain them. On Thursday, the Pope goes in state to St. Peter's. On Friday, in the evening, the church is lighted in the interior by a large illuminated cross, suspended from the centre of the great dome, which, as all the rest of it is in darkness, has a fine, and at the same time, a simple effect, shedding a mild lustre over the whole of the edifice. When the Pope leaves the Quirinal palace on Sunday, to proceed to St. Peter's, it is announced to the people by the firing of cannons from the castle of St. Angelo. His state carriage is an immensely large one, with a profusion of carving and gilding. It was followed by the King of Spain's, and a long train of others.

The church in the interior is lined on each side, as far as the dome, with soldiers, between whom the Pope is carried in his chair to the upper end, higher than the heads of the people. His robe is of white satin, richly embroidered over with crosses of gold, something at a distance resembling flowered brocade, and he wears his tiara with three bands of jewels encircling it. There are two immense fans made of red velvet and ostrich feathers carried over him on each side. He makes the sign of the cross during the whole time. Round th

circle under the dome were high scaffoldings filled with company to witness the solemn ceremony of performing divine service and taking the sacrament, which he does seated, with the cardinals around him. When it is all over, he is carried out of the chancel as before, and shortly after appears at a window with a balcony in front of the building high above the people, who are now assembled on the outside of the church, from whence he bestows his benediction on them, and the ceremony concludes. In the evening St. Peter's was illuminated all over with lamps, and the dome at a distance resembled a glittering bee-bive. Fireworks, the finest I have ever seen, were let off from the circular castle of St. Angelo, and thus ended the day. I confess the whole exhibition was to me rather a singular, though at the same time a grand one, resembling too much, as I thought at the time, the church militant, or rather I should say, the church military. On the following day St. Peter's was again illuminated, as likewise all the streets and palaces of Rome.

THE SLAVE RESTORED TO FREEDOM.

A native of Marseilles, who had just returned from Tripoli, where he had passed nearly ten years in a state of the severest slavery, was lately paraded with great pomp through the streets of his native town. He owed his liberation to the generous exertions of a missionary and certain French merchants. Too high an eulogium cannot be bestowed on the generosity of those who purchased his freedom; but why show the good man about the streets of Marseilles, as if he had been some curious animal?

Notice to Dogs.-In a small town on the western frontier of France, in which German is still the only language of many of the inhabitants, measures of precaution were lately taken, in consequence of the great heat; and a postingbill, written in French, announced that poisoned sausages would be thrown to any stray dogs. Piqued at this bill not being in both languages, the wags of the place circulated a caricature, at the top of which was, "Last notice to stray dogs; who are hereby again informed, that after Tuesday, the 20th July, municipal sausages will be administered to them." Under this proclamation are represented two foreign dogs, the one a German, the other a Fleming, who are mueh embarrassed as to the true meaning of the Freuch notification. The Flemish dog, however, concludes, that it is an invitation to them to dinner; and they both regale on the fatal sausage!

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