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In order lo bring the present Volume to a completion, two Numbers of the PORTFOLIO are issued this day: the latter Sheet containing EIGHT Engravings' the TITLE and INDEX to Vol. III, and a variety of original and interesting matter
..We alluded in our last to the kindness and partiality with which the activity and exertions of the present Conductors of the PORTFOLIO have been rewarded. What has been done, however, may merely be viewed “ as an earnest” of our intentions to use every exertion to maintain and increase the “popular applause" we have” endeavoured to merit.
Having, by the publication of No. 84, concluded the present Volume, two objects have been effected. First, we are not bound precisely to“ tread in the steps” of: our predecessor, We can now adopt mure energetically the improvements that our Correspondents have pointed out, and which our own experience corroborates. On this point we promise, that the pages of the PORTFOLIO shall be made as valuable and as interesting as will be commensurate with the rising SPIRIT OF THE AGE. The second object is simply this - That our additional Subscribers may coinmence a Fourth Volume, which will certainly be consecutive with the three preceding ones, but in no other respect connected.
· Our friends Messrs. Knight and LACEY announce that the third volume of the Mechanics' Magazine will be greatly improved in its paper, printing, and embellishments; as it is unrivalled in its circulation and usefulness, so it will' in future be the endeavour of the proprietors to make it in appearance ; and state Dr. Birk. beck's opinion, that their work is “the most valuable gift which the hand of Science has ever yet offered to the artizan;" WE ARE DETERMINED TO IMITATE THEIR INDUSTRY.
Although we are devoted more amusement of our readers, than the actual advance of SCIENCE, MECHANISM, and the ARTS, it will be seen that a portion of our sheets will be devoted to these subjects, and under the head of “ Mechanics' Oracle," a column of such matter in the PORTFOLIO, it is hoped, will always be found valuable. For this purpose, A CELEBRATED ENGINEER AND MECHANIST has been engaged occasionallý to supply the PORTFOLIO with original scientific matter. This gentleman is not limited in expence to secure such articles as his kuowledge deems worthy a place in our pages, and our liberal and active Publisher has promised that suitable Engravings shall always be supplied to illustrate his articles.
An article and embellishment from this gentleman will be given in the ensuing Number : it will, we think, not disappoint our readers, but afford that gratifying pleasure which always accompanies the revelation of useful knowledge. This Number will also contain FOUR OTHER ENGRAVINGS FROM THE HAND OF THE CELEBRATED BEWICK; AND A PLENDID FULL-LENGTH ENGRAVED COPPER-PLATE PORTRAIT OF MISS M. TREE.
The other arrangements of our work, viz. I. The Flowers of Literature; II. The Spirit of the Magazines ; III. The Wonders of Nature and Art; IV. The Family Physician and Domestic Guide ; will be supported by all the talent that the ramification of the periodical and established literature, and our original communications, supply. We conclude these observations by repeating, that the PRINCIPAL OBJECT OF THE PORTFOLIO IS, TO COMBINE NOVELTY WITH PERMANENCY, AND AMUSEMENT WITH EDIFICATION :-FOR THESE DESIRED ENDS, THE CHOICEST FLOWERS OF LITERATURE ARE PLUCKED FROM THEIR EVER. TEEMING BEDS, – THE SPIRIT OF THE MAGAZINES IS CAUGHT BEFORE IT EVAPORATES, AND A NEVER-FAILING SUPPLY OF ORIGINAL CONTRIBUI -FORM A COMBINATION AT ONCE VARIED, INTERESTING, AND USEFUL.
LONDON:-WILLIAM CHARLTON WRIGHT, 65, Paternoster
Row, and may be had of all Booksellers and Newsmen.
THE FLOWERS OF LITERATURE.
MELCOMBE.--A SKETCH. soon after disbanded) when my time was
expired, I was not considered entitled to ONE Evening last Winter near twelve be placed on the half pay list. o'clock, as I was passiug through one Thus I laboured for some time under of the small streets at the West End of the accumulated miseries of poverty, the Town, I was suddenly accosted by despondency of mind, and what appeared a female figure enveloped in a long cloak to the world, designed dishonesty, all of who in a foreign accent and a faint and which were produced by the most detremulous voice, said “ For God's sake, structive of vices -gaming,—whilst my Sir, follow me, and render meassistance. health gradually decreased, and “grim This was spoken in such an evidently despair" seemed to have enveloped me agitated manner, that it deprived me of in his uorelenting arms. the power of hesitation; and I involun. As one morning, I was promenading in 'tarily followed her. She walked before the garden of the Tuilleries, in a melanme in the most profound silence, till we choly mood, I observed an old lady aparrived at a neat house, the door of proach, whó suddenly stopped as she which she opened, and requested me to gọt near me, and said in a particular enter; I did so. A candle on the stair- tone, Sir, I beg pardon, but I believe case, nearly burnt to the socket, gave your name is Melcombe?" I answered a glimmering light, which enabled me in the affirmative " and mine," says she, to see that my conductress was over Wis Guichard." “Guichard," said I, whelmed with grief, and suffused in “Madam you have a son that-" “I had tears as she said ~ Walk up Sir, may God one" said she, with a sigh, “but he is bless you.” When we got upon the attic now in the grave, a premature death was storey, she pushed open the door of a the consequence of his excesses, would to room, which I entered, and where on a Heaven he had followed that advice, mean bed without a coverlid, lay a man, which you (tho' incapable of attending emaciated and feeble in the extreme, in to) so kindly and sincerely gave him, every feature of whose face Death was but on his death-bed he made it his last visibly pourtrayed. He endeavoured to request, that should I ever meet with raise himself as I entered, and said in a you, I would give you fifty louis'dors, low voice,“ This, Sir, is very good, very as a token of remernbrance and gratitude kind.” no sooner heard him speak, for your friendly counsel,'which though than I knew him to be an old friend of unheeded by him, he felt grateful for." the name of Melcombe, who was for. “* And Sir," says she, “if no prior en. merly in the same regiment, and in the gagement prevents your dining with me same mess with myself in the Peninsu. to day I shall be very happy of your lar war, but whom, I had not seen for company.” I assured her I was diseusome years, and should not now have gaged, then” says Madam G. " as I recognized his countenance; so much dine early, we will walk to the Rue Mout had distress and illness allered him. Af- Matre immediately." We accordingly ter our mutual surprize was over at our went, and it was there that I was introvery singular as well as unexpected meet. duced to my Amelie, the veice of Ma. ing, especially under snch inauspicious dame Guichard. I shall not enter into circumstances, I asked him how long he 'any description, before my Amelie of had been ill, and with the liberty of a , those personal charms, and mental acfriend, the cause of his distressed situa- quirements, which made so great ou imtion. He said the tale would be rather pression on me; it will be sufficient to Jong, but if I had got patience to listeu say, that in a short time we were to oúr he would try and relate it, he accordiug- mutual delight united by them by the ly began as I drew near his hedside,“ you most irrevocable of ties. remeinber after you left me at Cambray, We passed a few months in the most on your return to England, that I pro- . perfect state of felicity that this transicured leave of absence from my régiment tory world will admit of, living with the for the purpose of returning to Paris, Aunt of Amelie who had an income adat which place upon a former visit, I equate to support us all comfortably, had picked up some very fashionable ac- but not splendidly; for my Amelie had quaintances, also admirers of the very no portion (and none did I want) being fashionable vice of gaming. But better dispossessed of it when young by the wonld it bave been for me, had I never baseness of a relation. returned to tbat resort of fashion and At last Madame Guicbard died, and so folly, for in a few weeks I was entirely suddenly, that'she was prevented makbereaved of all the cash I had of my own, ing a Will; and consequently her proas also of a considerable sum that was perty went to her brother, as the nearest left in my care by a brother officer. relation; a man of most insatiable avaDeserted by my fashionable friends as rice, whom she had not seen for, at least soon as they ascertained my cash was twenty years before her death, and wbo exhausted, I was reduced to the greatest took possssiou of every thing that bemisery and distress, and having no meaus longed to her without reservation. A. of returning to my regiment, (which was melie,
and myself were therfore
led to get together (for sale) those arti- welcome! I am going to where my Melcles that we could call our own, for the combe is gone, and there only shall I be purpose of reaching London, where I happy.” had determined on coming, to make an
"! Congenial to the soul is love, application for my half pay.
With pare and holy flame, We arrived safely in London, where It savours of the joys above, I had not been a week, before I was at
Eternal and the same.” tacked with a nesvous fever, which from In five minutes after her gentle spirit my want of pecuniary means to procure had taken its flight to another world.-the advice of the Faculty, and a feeling Thus/died a fond and devoted wife, whose of pride that prevented
me from disclosing my situation to a Charitable Insti: pure and ardent love could not bear the
loss of her only friend and consoler on 'tution, has brought me to my present earth, who to her was her only support, state of wretchedness and from which'I and without whose fostering and attenam confident that Death only will soon relieve me.”
. tive care, she must, slie did die.
In this manner closed a night in which Thus ended my friend's narrative, the by circumstances as singular, as advenJast words of which were spoken in such
titious, I had seen the death of a brave, 'a melancholy and emphatic tone, that I honorable, and generous man, with an was exceedingly affected as I endeavour
amiable and lovely woman, his exact ed to assure him (though contrary to my
counterpart in the feminine and softer inward sentiments) that there was no virtues-a night the heart rending ocreason for dreading such an event at currences, of which will be present to present, wbilst Ainelie, who had hither
me till the latest hour of my existence. to sat silent," dropping å sea of melting
HENRI. pearl, which some call tears," suddenly rose and exclaimed as she walked to his bedside “No my Melcombe, we must not part yet." and then kissing his pal.
THE WISH TU. lid cheek whilst a forced smile played on her lips, said, “ Live a little longer for my sake,'' But grim Death had seiz. O! with thy joys may no disquiet blend, ed his victim too firmly to quit his iron No bittǝr gall thy cup of bliss atteud, grasp.
May youth be void of anguish, void of Amelie's grief now became excessive fears, and affecting—as one moment she would And calm contentment smooth thy riper turn her fine expressive eyes streaming with tears towards Heaven, in a suppl. And when death's cruel, death's unpitycating manner, her graceful attitude ing dart, even appearing to implore his life, and Severs each tie that's dearest to thine the next moment bending in the most a
heart; gonized manner over her beloved hus. May friendship's balm compose thy band, who regarded her in a way that
troubled breast, plainly shewed the concern he felt for Allay thy grief and charm thy soul to her pitiable situation.
Resi : A short time longer elapsed when a 0! may the man exalted by thy love, sigh from Melcombe, scarcely audible, A tender. constant partner ever prove, announced that
May he possess truth, honour, virtue, *His spirit had to other regions fled.'
A cheerful' heart a moderate compeSuch was the unfortunate and prema tence; ture death of my brave and honourable May lisping Prattlers new delights crefriend, whoseword had guaranteed thou
ate, sands, and who had kept the honor of a And all their parent's virtues emulate; soldier inviolate, whether in the field, May all the blessings which kind Heaor in the camp, in public transactions, ven e'er grants, orin private affairs; but in consequence Prevent thy wishes and preclude thy, of an unhappy predilection for play
wants;t. died distressed, and by half the world May each day happier than the last apunpitied.
pear, On going to the assistance of Amelie, And peace and plenty crown each rollI found that she too alas ! would soon
ing year. sleep with her Melcombe in the "silent tomb." As I held her drooping form in my arms, she cast her eyes upon me with *This quotation, as well as the preceding a serenity of expression which appeared one, is taken from an elegant little volume to say," I am sensible of your kindness, of poems, lately published by Mr. A. Becbut it is of no avail” whilst an angelic kett, Student of Lincoln's Inn, smile that played on her lips, seemed to
+ Anticipate Pope. utter in gentle accents, "Death thou art
THE DANCE OF DEATH.
THE CUTS BY THE CELEBRATED BEWICK.
No, XIX.-THE ADVOCATE. sia No. XX.-THE MISER. A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be hideth himself; but the simple pass on, required of thee; then whose shall those and are punished... PROV. xxii. 3: things be, which thou hast provided ! THE example of the Jud - seems to
LUKE, xi. 2. authourize the Advocate to get himself
THE character of the Miser is very well paid for his prevarication, and even forcibly expressed in this sketch. Shut in the presence of his poor client, whose up in a vault, which receives the light wretched condition would raise compas only through a wicket, secured with a sion to any breast less obdurate than double grate of thick iron bars, heisen that of the lawyer. But Death will a- tirely taken up with his beloved treasure venge the oppressed; he is pouring in a considerable part whereof Death is to the hands of the Advocate money in snatching up before his eyes. This loss abundance, of which he will have little excites in him all the symptoms of the use, for he is at the same instant, shew- most violent desperation, and it plainly ing him, with an air of insult, his sand appears that his gold is an hundred run out,
times dearer to his heart than his life. LINES,
STANZAS TO SYLVIA,
In joy and sorrow, life and death,
While that my pulse of life has breath
'Twill breath sole love for thee,
The cruel Fates may crush ;
Yet still the cheering smiles of you
My ruffled soul shall hush.
of thy young mother's beating breast; Dispair may banish far each joy,
And stamp each brow with gloom,
Yet never shall't my love destroy,
No that shall ever bloom.
(rise. Or wreck'd in sorrows seed; As alt'nate hope, fear, joy or sorrows Tho' woes on woes unnumber'd ap'd Sleep gently on; for O! no more
Should pour their weight on me :
Still love would fondly play;
Of manhood wakes thee up to weep. And lighting up each day.
THE CUTS BY THE CELEBRATED BEWICK.
a collar mad
No. XXI.-THE WAGGONER.
No. XXII.-THE COUNTESS. But when they to their trouble did turn unto the Lord God of Israel, and sought
What I shall we receive good at the hand him, he was found of them.
of God, and shall we not receive evil? 2 CITRON. XV. 4.
JOB, ii. 10. WE see Death here venting his ca.
She is wholly taken up with the care pricious fury on a cart of wine that a of her dress, and is receiving with eager. poor Waggoner is conducting. Without ness, from the hands of one of her maids, doubt, the man himself will
soon come, a very rich robe with a gold chain. Death in his turn, to be the sport of his caprice; comes to derange her toilet, and has aland the sanie cause that has now pro- ready, without being perceived, slipped duced, will ere long effectually finish round her neck a collar made of small
bones, his despair. A Summer Night in the Country.' At the shrill screeching of foreboding
owls, Stretch'd on his homely bed, the wea Deck'd with unrivall'd beams, the silver
ry'd hiud, Now sleeps secure; no cares disturb his Has wheeld her rolling orb, to night's mind;
pale moon, No use of. dram or opiate drugs he Temp'riug the darkness with so bright knows;
a ray, His wholesome labor gives a sweet re
As might almost compare with that of pose.
day; The beasts and birds are now retir'd to While thousand lesser lights with her rest,
combine, Those to thin grassy couch, these to And all in one united splendour shine. their pest
Nor Heav'u alone those radiant beautics 'The winds too are asleep, and scarcely Each bush with num'rous living spanThro’ the still horror of the gloomy Diffusing all around a lustre far,
gles glows, grove. Now pearly dews refresh the gelid air,
Such as might guide the wand'ring tra. And kindly nature's vital juice repair.
veller. All's húsh'd and universal silence reigns As if a show'r of stars from yonder sky. Save where the mournful Nightingale Had fall'n, and earth desigu'd with complains;
heav'n to vie, Or where the wakeful dog affrighted