they have been sacrificing; and if their motives are just and spirited, let them have their glory! but we cannot help contemplating with a more pleasing kind of admiration this intrepid man, dying in an attempt to save his fellow creatures from destruction.

A MILKMAID; BY SIR T. OVERBURY. A fair and happy milkmaid is a country wench that is so far from making herself beautiful by art, that one look of hers is able to put all face-physic out of countenance. She knows a fair look is but a dumb orator to commend virtue, therefore minds it not. All her excellences stand in her so silently, as if they had stolen upon her without her knowledge. The lining of her apparel, which is herself, is far better than outsides of tissue; for though she be not arrayed in the spoil of the silk-worm, she is decked in innocence, a far better wearing. She doth not, with lying down in bed, spoil both her complexion and conditions ; nature has taught her, too immoderate sleep is rust to the soul; she rises therefore with Chanticleer, her dame's cock, and at night makes the lamb her curfew. In milking a cow, and straining the teats through her fingers, it seems that so sweet a milk-press makes the milk whiter or sweeter; for never came almond-glore or aromatic ointment on her palm to taint it. The golden ears of corn fall and kiss her feet when she reaps them, as if they wished to be bound and led prisoners by the same hand that folled them. Her breath is her own, which scents all the year long of June, like a new-made hay-cock. She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with pity; and when winter evenings fall early, sitting at her merry wheel she sings defiance to the giddy wheel of fortune. She doth all things with so sweet a grace, it seems ignorance will not suffer her to do ill, being her mind is to do well. She bestows her year's wages at next fair, and in choosing her garments, counts no bravery in the world like decency. The garden and bee-hive are all her physic and surgery, aad she lives the longer for it. She dares go alone, and unfold sheep in the night, and fears no manner of ill, because she means none; yet, to say truth, she is never alone, but is still accompanied with old songs, honest thoughts and prayers, but short ones; yet they have their efficacy, in that they are not palled with ensuing idle cogitations.-Lastly, her dreams are so chaste, that she dare tell them; only a Friday's

WITTY

EXPEDIENT OF ESOP.

Esop, once by his wit, extrinted his master from a difficultly, into which the excess of wine had thrown him. Xanthus being at a feast with his disciples, and the wine beginning to mount into his head, he betted, on the proposition of one of them, that he would drink the sea, consenting to forfeit his estate if he did not perform it. He gave his ring in pledge, and the student gave his. The next day having entirely forgot what had happened on the preceding, he was astonished to find that he had not his ring. Æsop having related to him the circumstances, he felt completely mortified and vexed, naturally judging what he had undertaken to perform was a perfect impossibility. In this per plexed affair he had recourse to sop, begging him to use all his wit, all his address, all his subtilty, and all his ex perience, to get him out of this affair, and to recover honourably the pledge which he had given. Esop conceived this plan, which the philosopher put in practice. When the day arrived for the decision of the wager, all the people of Samos were assembled upon the seashore, to see in what manner the philo sopher would draw himself out of this embarrassment. The philosopher arrived, and a carpet being spread, and a table covered, he ordered his servants to present him with a cup of water out of the sea, and holding it up in his hands, he asked of his adversary,in a loud voice, what were the terms of the wager? He answered, that he had engaged "to drink all the water out of the sea." Then turning himself to the assembly, he said, "Inhabitants of Samos, you know perfectly well that the rivers and rivulets discharge themselves into the sea, now I engaged to drink the water of the sea only, and not that of all the rivers which run into it, therefore my disciple must first prevent the rivers from running into the sea, and when he shall have done that, I will drink it." This invention entirely succeeded. The scholar threw himself at Xanthus's feet, confessing that he was conquered, and begged him to dissolve the wager, which was readily acceded to, to the satisfaction of all the people, who could not sufficiently admire the readiness of Esop's wit.

THE SCHOOL BOY'S COMPLAINT.

"The curse of Cain is on me." 1 love my Master, and my school full well, But cannot bear to read, to write, or spell; I strive at both, but, alas! I try in vainBut still more zealous strive to shun the cane,

When, if by chance my hands do get a stain,
Up I am sent to have them washed with cane;
Or if an apple munch-or sideways chance to
look,

Confound the cane, I catch it-such my fatal luck.

If slate-string lose-or pencil chance to drop,
Up I am sent-the cane will never stop;
To stiris treason-speaking worse than death,
There's no escape from cane, while I have
breath.

Oh! curse the cane, I wish the burning sun Had parch'd the ground, and it had brought forth none;.

Had we no weapon on our England's plain
But we must cross the ocean for a cane?

Oh! Friends believe me, hear me speak my mind

Before I know my fault, I'm seiz'd-confin'd, Dragg'd like a felon—I plead-alas! in vain, And all I get for pity is the cruel cane.

Oh! what a sufferer, when shall I be freed?— Is there no other art to teach mankind to read? Oh yes, there's Lancaster-friend of hapless youth,

Without a cane can guide mankind to truth.

I'll go to him, for he's a man of peace,
And in his school the war of cane shall cease;
I went, and found, to finish my mishap,
Instead of cane, a supplement call'd-strap.
Oh! wretched me! how oft I've wish'd in vain,
Some friend in pity would destroy the cane;
But now I wish the cane and strap together,
Sunk in the ocean, and both lost for ever.
J. BABINGLEYCREEK.

GENIUS.

What is Genius? 'tis a flame, Kindling all the human frame ;"Tis the ray that lights the eye, Soft in love-in battle high ;"Tis the lightning of the mind, Unsubdued and undefin'd; "Tis the flood that pours along The full clear melody of song; "Tis the sacred boon of Heav'n, To its choicest favourites given;They who feel can paint it well, What is Genius? Byron tell.

PARODY ON HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY

To smoke or not to smoke! that is the question:
Whether 'tis better to abjure the habit,
And trust the warnings of a scribbling Doctor,
Or buy at once a box of best Havanna,
And ten a day, consume them? To smoke
to puff

Nay more, to waste the tender fabric of the lungs,

And risk consumption and the thousand ills
The practice leads to; 'tis a consummation
Discreetly to be shunn'd. To smoke to

puff

To puff-perhaps to doze! ay, there's the rub,
For in that dozing state we thirsty grow:
And having burnt the tube up to a stump,
We must have drink-and that's one cause
We modern youth are destin'd to short life.
For who can bear to feel his mouth parched up,
His throat like whalebone and his chest ex-
hausted,

His head turn giddy and his nerves unstrung,
When he himself might drench these ills away
With wine or brandy-Who would live in
smoke,

And pine and sicken with a secret poison, But that the dread of breaking o'er a rule -Prescrib'd by fashion (whose controlling will None disobeys) puzzles ambitious youth, And makes us rather bear those ills we feel And others that the Doctor warns us ofThus custom does make spectres of us all, And thus the native hue of our complexion Is sickly'd o'er with a consumptive cast, The appetite (a loss of greater moment) Pall'd by the weed; and the digestive powers Lose all their action.

NOTICE TO CORRESPONDENTS. We now feel, and ever have done, duly grateful to our friends in the country for their valuable contributions, but W. E. must pardon us if we have had taste enough to reject his favour, notwithstanding the pains and trouble he has evidently bestowed upon it.-Our veto must apply as well to Isabella, S.S., and Caustic. M. will oblige us by a further communication at her earliest convenience.

Received, and "ordered to lie on the table" for perusal, Polybius, P. R., Arsia, Cantab, and Soufpance.

LONDON.-Printed and Published by W KEENE, at the Office, New Church-court, Strand, where all communications for the Editor, and orders for the Portfolio, (post paid) are requested to be addressed: also by DUNCOMBE, 19, Little Queen-street, Holborn, SIMPKIN and MARSHALL, Paternoster-row, and all respectable Booksellers.

"On a close approach to the temples, the eye and imagination are bewildered with the variety of interesting objects that present themselves on every side. The feelings are interested to a degree of awe, wonder, and delight, that at first is painful, and it is a long time before they become sufficiently sobered and calm to contemplate with any attention the surrrounding wonders. The deathlike stillness of the place, the solitude of the adjoining plains, the romantic beauty of the country, and the mountain itself, perforated in every part, all tend to impress the mind of the stranger with feelings quite new, and far different from those felt in viewing magnificent edifices amidst the heavy haunts of man. Every thing here invites the mind to contemplation, and every surrounding object reminds it of a remote period, and a mighty people, who were in a state of high civilization, whilst the natives of our own land were barbarians, living in woods and wilds.

"How many ideas rush into the mind of an inquisitive and thoughtful man at the moment I am now describing! How much delightful narrative might a more able pen than mine give utterance to on the occasion! I will, however, (though Jacking the glowing descriptive powers of some of our modern writers) put the first view in plain language to the reader's imagination.

"Conceive the burst of surprise at suddenly coming upon a stupendous temple, within a large open court, hewn out of the solid rock, with all its parts perfect and beautiful, standing proudly alone upon its native bed, and detached from the neighbouring mountain by a spacious area all round, nearly 250 feet deep, and 150 feet broad: this unrivalled fane rearing its rocky head to a height of nearly 100 feet---its length about 145 feet, by 62 broad---having well-formed door-ways, windows, staircases to its upper floor, containing fine large rooms of a smooth and polished surface, regularly divided by rows of pillars: the whole bulk of this immense block of isolated excavation being upwards of 500 feet in circumference, and, extraordinary as it may appear, having beyond its areas three handsome figure galleries, or virandas, supported by regular, pillars, with compartments hewn

out of the boundary scarp, containing 42 curious gigantic figares of the Hindoo mythology---the whole three galleries in continuity, enclosing the areas, and occupying the almost incredible space of nearly 420 feet of excavated rock; being, upon the average, about 13 feet 2 inches broad all round, and in height 14 feet and a half; while, positively, above these again are excavated fine large rooms. Within the Court, opposite these galleries, or virandas, stands Keylas the Proud, wonderfully towering in hoary majesty---a mighty fabric of rock, surpassed by no relic of antiquity in the known world.

and

"This brief outline will impart to the reader some idea of the Wonders of Elora! and if these temples do not excite in the mind emotions of astonishment and delight, I have quite misunderstood my own feelings. To build the Pantheon, the Parthenon at Athens, St. Peter's at Rome, our own St. Paul's or a Fonthill Abbey, is a task of science and labour: but we understand how it is done, how it proceeds, and how it is finished but to conceive for a moment a body of men, however numerous, with a spirit however invincible, and resources however great, attack a solid mountain of rock, in most parts 100 feet high, and excavating, by the slow process of the chisel, a temple like the one I have faintly described, with its galleries, or Pantheon---its vast area, and indescribable mass of sculpture and carving in endless profusion---the work appears beyond belief, and the mind is bewildered in amazement.

"I think the caverned temples of Elora far surpass, in labour, design, &c. any of the ancient buildings that have impressed our minds with admiration ; nor do I think they yield the palm of superiority to any thing we are told of in Egypt.

"Nothing can be more romantic and interesting than the view down the great hall, or into the large rooms, excavated in the northern and southern sides of the mountains facing you; or, if you wish to quit this gloomy grandeur, only cross the bridges through the small rooms, to the balcony over the gateway, and there is the open country, with beautiful nature robed in all the luxuriance and richness of oriental verdure.

"At the time these astonishing works were begun, the country, far and wide, must have enjoyed a profound peace; its resources too must have been great to have permitted such vast undertakings;