consequence of this decree a day was appointed for their marriage, and Orlando accompanied by a splendid retinue, repaired to the house of Camiola, whom he found decked out in the customary magnificence of silks and jewels. But Camiola, instead of proffering the vows of love and obedience which the haughty prince expected to hear, told him she scorned to degrade herself by a union with one who had debased his royal birth and his knighthood by so foul a breach of faith, and that she could now only bestow on him, not her hand, of which he had proved himself unworthy, but the ransom she had paid, which she esteemed a gift worthy a man of mean and sordid soul; herself and her remaining riches she vowed to dedicate to heaven.

No entreaties availed to change her resolution, and Orlando, shunned by his peers as a dishonoured man, too late regretted the bride he had lost, and falling into a profound melancholy, died in obscurity and neglect.

A SPECIMEN OR TWO OF EXISTING PERSIAN MANNERS. FROM SIR HARFORD JONES BRIDGES' MISSION TO PERSIA (just published.)

A great Minister on his Travels.-In two or three days afterwards, Meerza Bozurg and I set out for Tauris, which was little more than twenty miles distant from the camp. Nothing could be more simple than the manner in which the Meerza travelled. He rode a mule, the trappings of which were perfectly à la derveishe. He had a servant, who carried a cloak-bag, and his calean (pipe). He had a groom who led a sumpter mule, that carried some articles of refreshment, and common small carpets; and he had his own favorite personal servant, who was at once his secretary, his amanuensis, and humble friend. The Meerza's con versation on the road was delightful; it was a constant effusion of portions of history, anecdote, and recital of beautiful poetry, much of which was from the poems of his late uncle, Meerza Hossein. The country we passed through fully justified a recollection of those lines of Shakspeare, in the second part of Henry the Fourth:

"I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire;
"These high wild hills, and rough, uneven ways,
"Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome;
"And yet our fair discourse has been as sugar,
'Making the hard way sweet and delectable."

About two o'clock we reached the village of Bosmeech, at the end of which there is a little grove of Lombardy poplars, along one side of which, or rather at the foot of it a beautiful little stream of the purest water passes. Here the Meerza said, What say you to dismounting and resting ourselves and our beasts under the pleasant shade of these trees?" It was so agreed, and after pitching on a beautiful spot for spreading the carpets, there appeared in a very short time from the Meerza's sumpter mule a nice cold collation, consisting of partridge, excellent cheese, fruit, fine bread, and water-cresses gathered fresh on the spot; and added to this, I must the Meerza's coffee, say, and the tobacco of his calean, were exquisite. There was a degree of devotion in the Meerza's grace before he began to eat, and an expression of thankfulness and thanksgiving in that which he uttered after, that were particularly striking, and knew him so well, I may say affecting; and it was to me, who in perfect keeping with this, that whilst we were smoking our caleans, he began to say how little he wanted in this world, and how much he thanked God for having taken from his eyes all love of wealth; to which circumstance alone he ascribed his having been able safely to weather all the dreadful political storms he had met with. When we had finished our caleans, he stretched himself out at his length on the carpet, and fell fast asleep. I do not envy the man who could contemplate such a spectacle as this with indifference. Here was a great Minister of a great Empire, who could command

"The perfum'd chambers of the great, "The canopies of costly state, "With sounds of sweetest melody, "And all appliances and means to boot," sleeping, and sleeping soundly, with just the same "appliances" that were enjoyed by the commonest servant of our train. It was not long after my friend had fallen asleep, that the villagers of Bosmeech, having heard where the Great Man was, came out in a body to compliment him, and to beseech him to honor the village with his presence. I acquainted the principal person of the procession, that the Meerza was asleep, and they immediately postponed their visit till the evening was far advanced, and the Meerza awoke. When this happened, it was the time for the Prayer of Asser, and I was rather surprised to see his servant lay for him one of the most beautiful prayer carpets I ever saw in my life. The Meerza saw I looked rather astonished, and he said, "this is the only luxury I indulge in; this carpet is spread before God. perfectly halaul, for it is purchased with money It is earned by my own hands."

An Awful Present.-Mohammed Nebee Khan, a Persian Ambassador to one of the Indian Presidences, sent Mr. Duncan, the Governor, a copy of the King of Persia's Poems. Mr. Duncan was rather puzzled what *Meats and other things, according to the Mohammedan religion, are divided into Halaul and Haram, (i. e lawful and forbidden.)

present to make the Ambassador in return; after some reflection, he sent him a large paper copy of Denon's Travels in Egypt. This the Ambassador returned, and intimated to Mr. Duncan, that the present he had made him of the king of Persia's poems could not be esti mated at less value than 100,000 rupees, which was a pretty broad aris au lecteur, that his Excellency expected to receive something very different from Denon's Travels, however highly the work might be valued by the literary world in Europe. Mr. Duncan, perceiving the scrape he had got into, sent to assure the Ambassador, that being now aware of the value of the present which had been made to him, he could not think of robbing the Ambassador of a thing he so highly prized, and, therefore hoped the Ambassador would allow him to return it. To consent to this was no part of the Ambassador's game, and he gave Mr. Duncan to understand, that to return the poetry of the king of Persia, would be an affront of sufficient magnitude to endanger the amicable intercourse between the two states; the farce therefore ended by Mohammed Nebee obtaining from Mr Duncan a present in money, equal to about one-fifth of the price at which he had valued his sovereign's poetical effusions.

New Duties of a Secretary.-General Gardanne, on his introduction to Mohammed Ally Meerza, had presented him with a very fine pair of rifle-barrelled pistols,

made at Paris, the barrels of which the General assured

twenty

of the wild and the adventurous, the commonplaces of life were to me inexpressibly tame and joyless. And yet indolence, which belongs to the poetical character, was more inviting than that eager and uncontemplative action which can alone wring enterprise from life. Meditation was my natural element. the noon reclined by some shady stream, and in a half I loved to spend sleep to shape images from the glancing sunbeams; a dim and unreal order of philosophy, that belongs to our nation, was my favourite intellectual pursuit. And I sought amongst the obscure and the recondite the variety of emotion I could find not in the familiar. Thus constantly watching the operations of the inner mind, it occurred to me at last, that sleep having its own world, but as yet a rude and fragmentary one, it might be possible to shape from its chaos, all those combinations of beauty, of power, of glory, and of love, which were denied to me in the world in which my frame walked and had its being. So soon as this idea came upon me, I nursed, and cherished, and mused over it, till I found that the imagination began to effect the miracle I desired. By brooding ardently, intensely, before I retired to rest, over an especial train of thought, over any ideal creations; by keeping the hody utterly still and quiescent during the whole day; by shutting out all living adventure, the memory of which might perplex and interfere with the stream of events that I desired to pour forth into the wilds of sleep, I discovered own, and utterly distinct from the life of day. Towers at last, that I could lead in dreams a life solely their and palaces, all my heritage, rose before me from the depths of night; I quaffed from jewelled cups the Falernian of imperial vaults; music from harps of celestial tone filled up the crevices of air; and the smiles of immortal beauty flushed like sunlight over all. Thus the adventure and the glory, that I could not for my waking life obtain, was obtained for me in sleep. I wandered with the gryphon and the gnome; I sounded the horn at enchanted portals; I conquered in the knightly lists; I planted my standard over battlements huge as the painter's birth of Babylon itself.

"But I was afraid to call forth one shape on whose loveliness to pour all the hidden passion of my soul. I trembled lest my sleep should present me some image which it could never restore, and, waking from which, even the new world I had created might be left desolate for ever. I shuddered lest I should adore a vision which the first ray of morning could smite to the grave.

might not be possible to connect dreams together; to "In this train of mind I began to ponder whether it supply the thread that was wanting; to make one night continue the history of the other, so as to bring together the same shapes and the same scenes, and thus lead a connected and harmonious life, not only in the one half of existence, but in the other, the richer and more, glorious, half. No sooner did this idea present itself to me, than I burned to accomplish it. I had before taught myself that Faith is the great creator; that to believe fervently is to make belief true. So I would not suffer my mind to doubt the practicability of its scheme. 1 shut myself up then entirely by day, refused books, and hated the very sun, and compelled all my thoughts rection, the direction of my dreams, so that from night (and sleep is the mirror of thought) to glide in one dito night the imagination might keep up the thread of action, and I might thus lie down full of the past dream and confident of the sequel. Not for one day only, or it zealously and sternly, till at length it began to sucfor one month, did I pursue this system, but I continued ceed. Who shall tell," cried the enthusiast,-I see him now with his deep, bright, sunken eyes, and his wild hair thrown backward from his brow, "the rapture I experienced, when first, faintly and half distinct, I perceived the harmony I had invoked dawn upon my dreams. At first there was only a partial and desultory connection between them; my eye recognized certain shapes; my ear certain tones common to each; by degrees, these augmented in number, and were more defined in outline.

At length, one fair face broke forth peared mixing with them for a moment and then vanishfrom among the ruder forms, and night after night aping, just as a mariner watches in a clouded sky the moon curiosity was now vividly excited, the face, with its lusshining through the drifting rack, and quickly gone. My trous eyes and seraph features, roused all the emotions that no living shape had called forth. I became enamoured of a dream, and as the statue to the Cyprian was my creation to me; so from this intent and unceasing passion, I at length worked out my reward. more palpable; I spoke with it; I knelt to it; my lips My dream became were pressed to its own; we exchanged the vows of love, and morning only separated us with the certainty that at night we should meet again. Thus then" continued my visionary, "I commenced a history utterly separate from the history of the world, and it went on alternately with my harsh and chilling history of the day, equally regular and equally continuous. And what, you ask, was that history? Methought I was a prince in some southern island that had no features in co mon homely or squalid forms passing before me; the sky with the colder north of my native home. By day I looked upon the dull walls of a German town, and saw was dim and the sun cheerless. Night came on with fruits hung from the trees in clusters of gold and purple. her thousand stars, and brought me the dews of sleep. Then suddenly there was a new world; the richest Palaces of the quaint fashion of the sunnier climes, with spiral minarets and glittering cupolas, were mir. rored upon vast lakes sheltered by the palm tree and

banana. The sun seemed of a different orb, so mellow and gorgeous were his beams; birds and winged things of all bues fluttered in the shining air; the faces and garments of men were not of the northern regions of the world, and their voices spoke a tongue, which strange at first, by degrees 1 interpreted. Sometimes I made war upon neighbouring kings; sometimes I chased the spotted pard through the vast gloom of oriental forests; my life was at once a life of enterprize and pomp. But above all there was the history of my love! I thought there were a thousand difficulties in the way of attaining its possesion. Many were the rocks I had to scale, and the battles to wage, and the fortresses to storm in order to win her as my bride. But at last," continued the enthusiast "she is won, she is my own! Time in this wild world, which I visit nightly, passes not so slowly as in this, and yet an hour may be the same as a year. This continuity of existence, this successive series of dreams, so different from the broken incoherence of other men's sleep, at times bewilders me with strange and suspicious thoughts. What if this glorious sleep be real life, and this dull waking the true repose? Why not? What is there more fanciful in the one than in the other? And there have 1 garnered and collected all of pleasure that I am capable of feeling. I see no joy in this world-I form no ties, I feast not, nor love, nor make merry,-I am only impatient till the hour when I may re-enter my royal realms and pour my renewed delight into the bosom of my bright ideal. There then have I found all that the world denied me; there have I realized the yearning and aspiration within me; there have I coined the untold poetry into the felt-the seen!"

"I found," continued Trevylyan, "that this tale was corroborated by inquiry into the visionary's habits. He shunned society; avoided all unnecessary movement or excitement. He fared with rigid abstemiousness, and only appeared to feel pleasure as the day departed, and the hour of return to his imaginary kingdom approached. He always retired to rest punctually at a certain hour, and would sleep so soundly, that a cannon fired under his window would not arouse him. He never, which may seem singular, spoke or moved much in his sleep, but was peculiarly calm, almost to the appearance of lifelessness; but, discovering once that he had been watched in sleep, he was wont afterwards carefully to secure the chamber from intrusion. His victory over the natural incoherence of sleep had, when I first knew him, lasted for some years; possibly what imagination first produced was afterwards continued by habit.

I saw him again a few months subsequent to this confession, and he seemed to be much changed. His health was broken, and his abstraction had deepened into gloom.

I questioned him of the cause of the alteration, and he answered me with great reluctance

-

"She is dead," said he, "my realms are desolate! A serpent stung her, and she died in these very arms. Vainly, when I started from my sleep in horror and despair, vainly did I say to myself,-This is but a dream. I shall see her again. A vision cannot die! Hath it flesh that decays? is it not a spirit-bodiless -indissoluble? With what terrible anxiety I awaited the night. Again I slept, and the dream lay again before me-dead and withered. Even the ideal can vanish. I assisted in the burial; I laid her in the earth; I heaped the monumental mockery over her form. And never since hath she, or aught like her, revisited my dreams. I see her only when I wake; thus, to wake is indeed to dream! But," continued the visionary, in a solemn voice, "I feel myself departing from this world, and with a fearful joy; for I think there may be a land beyond even the land of sleep, where I shall see her again,- -a land in which a vision itself may be restored."

And in truth, concluded Trevylyan, the dreamer died shortly afterwards, suddenly, and in his sleep.

There are singular varieties in life," said Vane, who had heard the latter part of Trevylyan's story; "and could the German have bequeathed to us his art-what a refuge should we not possess from the ills of earth! The dungeon 'and disease, poverty, affliction, shame, would cease to be the tyrauts of our lot; and to sleep, we should confine our history and transfer our emotions."

"But most of all," said Trevylyan, "would it be a cience worth learning to the poet, whose very nature sa pining for the ideal-for that which earth has not— for that which the dreamer found. Ab, Gertrude," whispered the lover, "what his kingdom and his bride were to him, art thou to me!"

LEGENDS OF IRELAND.

[From the third number (just published) of "Lays and Legends of Various Nations," a welcome monthly publication; which increases in value as it proceeds. The present number contains several original communications from Mr. Crofton Croker and others.]

MIND YOUR OWN FAULTS.

A gentleman riding along the road, passed by a knock, (a field of furze) in which a man was stubbing; and for every stroke he gave with his hoe, he cried out in a reproachful tone, Oh! Adam! The gentleman stopped nis horse, and calling the labourer to him, inquired the reason of bis saying 'Oh! Adam!'

Why, please your honour,' said the man, only for Adam I would have no occasion to labour at all; had he and Eve been less curious, none of us need earn our bread in the sweat of our brow.'

'Very good,' said the gentleman; 'call at my house to morrow.'

The man waited on him the next day, and the gentleman took him into a splendid apartment, adjoining a most beautiful garden, and asked him would he wish to live there? The son of Adam replied in the affirmative. Very well,' said the gentleman, you shall want for nothing. Breakfast, dinner, and supper of the choicest viands, shall be laid before you every day, and you may amuse yourself in the garden whenever you please. But mind you are to enjoy all this on one condition, that you look not under the pewter plate that lies on the table.'

Per

The man was overjoyed at his good fortune, and thought that there was little fear of his forfeiting it by looking under the pewter plate. In a week or two, however, he grew curious to know what could be under the plate which he was prohibited from seeing. haps a jewel of inestimable value, and perhaps nothing at all. One day, when no person was present, he thought he would take a peep-there could be no harm in itno one would know it: and accordingly, he raised the forbidden plate-when lo! a little mouse jumped from under it; he quickly laid it down again, but his doom was sealed Begone to your hoeing,' said the gentleman next day, and cry oh! Adam! no more, since like him, you have lost a paradise by disobedience.'

THE ROAD THE PLATES WENT.

At some distance from Castle Taylor, in the county of Galway, is a round fort called the Palace of Dunderlass, where it is said Goora, king of Connaught, resided; there is not, however, the least vestige of any dwelling place; this palace was near a celebrated city called Adrahan. It is now but a village; tradition, however, mentions it to have been formerly very extensive. If the road, leading to the town, can enable us to form any idea of its extent, the remains of that which led to this, would induce us to believe that it was twice larger than the present road; except that there was an avenue of trees planted on each side, it is not easy to determine to what use it was converted. This road is called in Irish, Boherlan da naa mias-the road the plates went; and the story from which the name originated is odd enough.

Saint Macduagh, the king's brother, had retired to the mountains, to pray with a friar: when they had remained two days there, the friar was not so much occu pied by devotion, but he felt the grumblings of his stomach, from time to time; this made him murmur, and he said to the saint, "I beg your Saintship's pardon, but I believe you brought me here to die of hunger; your brother Goora gives a feast to his court to-day; I had rather be there than here."

"Oh! man of little faith," replied the Saint, "do you think I brought you here to die of hunger?" And he immediately began to pray more fervently than ever.

On a sudden the friar was agreeably surprised to see an excellent dinner before him. And when King Goora and his nobles returned from hunting, very hungry, they were very much surprised at seeing their plates and tables fly away! On this occasion, they did what every person might do who saw his dinner fly away; the cook with his spit, the servants and grooms, the dogs and cats, accompanied the king and his court, either on foot or horseback, and ran as fast as they could after the plates.

The dinner, however, arrived an entire quarter of an hour before them, and the friar, who had just begun to satisfy his appetite, was terrified at seeing such a crowd ready to snatch the hit from his mouth. He complained to the saint again, telling him it were better to give him nothing to eat, than to get him knocked on the head by the hangry attendants of the court of Goora.

Oh, man of little faith," said the saint, "let them come." They soon arrived, and when they got within thirty paces of the friar, the saint put them in the most disagreeable situation any decent people can be in: he made their feet stick to the rock, and obliged them to look on at the friar's repast.

They still shew in the rock the marks of the horses hoofs, of the men, dogs, &c., and even of the lances which were also stuck in the rock, for fear they should take it in their heads to throw them at the friar. As these marks are visible, there can be no doubt of the truth of the story, and since this time, the road has been and is still called "The road the plates went,"

Oh, mighty saint, Macduagh!" adds the narrator, a French gentleman, whom the revolution had compelled to emigrate, and who wandered through the United Kingdoms, recording his adventures with his national gaiety-a gaiety by which touches of true pathos can be alone conveyed; "Oh, mighty Saint Macduagh, how much I should be obliged to your saintship, if you deigned to repeat this miracle from time to time in favour of a poor pilgrim like me!"

THE WISE WOMEN OF MUNGRET.

About two miles west of the city of Limerick, is an inconsiderable ruin, called Mungret. This ruin is all that remains of a monastic establishment, said to have contained within its walls six churches, and, exclusive of scholars, fifteen hundred monks.

Of these monks, five hundred were learned preachers -five hundred more were so classed and divided as to support a full choir day and night-and the remaining

five hundred, being the elders of the brotherhood, devoted themselves to religion and charitable works.

An anecdote is related of this priory, which is worth preserving, because it gave rise to a proverbial expression, retained in the country to the present day, as wise as the women of Mungret.'

A deputation was sent from the college at Cashel, to this famous seminary at Mungret, in order to try their skill in the languages. The heads of the house of Mungret were somewhat alarmed, lest their scholars should receive a defeat, and their reputation be lessened-they therefore thought of a most humourous expedient to prevent the contest, which succeeded to their wishes. They habited some of their young students like women, and some of the monks like peasants, in which dresses they walked a few miles to meet the strangers at some distance from each other. When the Cashel professors approached and asked any question about the distance of Mungret, or the time of day, they were constantly answered in Greek or Latin; which occasioned them to hold a conference, and determine not to expose themselves at a place, where even the women and peasants could speak Greek and Latin.

THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. ABSTRACT OF THE LIFE OF HIM BY LORD WOODHOUSELEE.

JAMES CRICHTON was born in the year 1561. He was the eldest son of Robert Crichton, of Eliock, who filled the important office of Lord Advocate of Scotland, first to Queen Mary, and afterwards to King James. The mother of Crichton was Elizabeth Stewart, daughter of Sir James Stewart of Beath. His family was noble, and high in various offices.

The young Crichton having received the rudiments of his grammatical education at Perth, or according to another authority at Edinburgh, was sent to improve himself in philosophy and the sciences at St. Andrews, at that time the most celebrated and learned seminary in Scotland. The rank and fortune of his father enabled him to give his son, who was already remarkable for the early maturity of his talents and the beauty of his person, the instruction of the most learned men of the time. His masters were Rhutherford, Provost of St. Salvator's College, Hepburn, Robertson, and, at a later period, Buchanan, one of the most illustrious scholars at that time in Europe. The progress of Crichton was suitable to the eminence of his instructors, and to the celebrity which he was afterwards destined to acquire. In the year 1573, when he had hardly passed his twelfth year, he took his degree as bachelor of arts; and in two years afterwards, such appear to have been his high attainments in the different branches of scholastic knowledge, that he received his degree, as master of arts, at the very early age of fourteen.

It

The different students in the University of St. Andrews were at this time, previous to their taking their degrees as masters of arts, divided into what were termed circles, according to the talents and proficiency which they exhibited in the examinations which preceded the taking their degrees. The first circle comprehended those of the very highest attainments in the University. The second, those whose proficiency, although eminent, was not so comparatively conspicuous, and so on through the different divisions of talent. is a remarkable circumstance, as it establishes the great and early endowments of Crichton, that at the age of fourteen he takes his degree of master of arts in the first circle, being the third in the circle, that is being in talents and attainments the third scholar at that time in the University; a circumstance which, if we consider the early age of Crichton, sufficiently proves the strength and precocity of those talents which were afterwards to figure so conspicuously upon a wider field in Italy.

Having evinced this extraordinary proficiency, Crichton does not appear to have imagined that his labours were to finish with the honours he had there won, or that the period of study was in any respect concluded. His success only increased his ardour; and the labours of those early and boyish years were repaid, as in the case of Pascal and Clairault, by attainments which would have been remarkable in a scholar of the most advanced age, and the most laborious application. He soon accomplished himself in the various branches of the science and philosophy of the times; and, by the force of natural talents, assisted, as they must have Leen, by intense application, acquired the use of ten different languages. At this period, and, indeed, tili a much later date, it was the custom for our Scottish gentlemen to finish their education by foreign travel, to acquire, in the army, and in an intercourse with foreign camps and courts, that military and political knowledge, which might afterwards render them serviceable in the wars and the councils of their country. Crichton was accordingly sent by his father to the continent, at a very early age, probably in his sixteenth or seventeenth year. The purpose of his ging abroad was, not only to improve himself by the sight of different countries, and to display, as was the custo n in these times, the extent of his erudition in the public disputations which were then extremely common in the universities of the continent, but also to finish his education in the schools of Franc and Italy.

The young Crichton had not, as we have already seen, been ungrateful to nature for those early talents with which he was intrusted. He had laboured to increase,

by every effort of his own, his acquisitions in knowledge and science; and nature had, in return, been prodigal to him of those gifts, which no individual exertion can command. She had given him a form, which, while it was active and powerful, was remarkable for its admirable symmetry and proportion; and a countenance which, from the account of all who had seen him. was a model of manly and intelligent beauty. To these endowments was united a most remarkable quickness and aptitude in the acquirement of all the elegant ac complishments which were fitted to exhibit his person to the greatest advantage, and in which the young Scottish nobility of the day were educated. The same ardent desire of excellence, and enthusiastic perseverance of cultivation, which had led him on to eminence in his severer studies, contributed to render him equally superior to his youthful compeers in all the martial exercises of that chivalrous age. The science of the sword was, at this time, most sedulously cultivated, both in our own country and on the continent. It was the weapon to which all appeals of honour were made; and its professors (for to this high appellation its teachers aspired) affected to elucidate its different branches, and demonstrate its various rules and evolutions, by the application of geometrical principles. Crichton became one of the most expert and fearless swordsmen of his time. He rode with consummate grace and boldness; and in the gentler accomplishment of dancing, upon excellence in which, even in our own days, (if we may believe a noble author), so many grave and serious consequences depend, he is recorded to have been a very admirable proficient. To these various attractions there was added still another, which, in the pleasure it was calculated to bestow, was not inferior to any that has been mentioned-a strong genius for music. He had, from nature, a sweet and finely modulated voice; and had attained to great excellence in performing upon a variety of musical instruments. They who are enthusiastic in this delightful science, and who have felt the deep and inexplicable influence which it possesses over our nature, will not be at a loss to estimate the power which his skill in music must have given to the young and handsome Crichton, in attracting esteem and commanding admiration.

Thus fairly and excellently endowed, Crichton set out upon his travels, and directed his course first to Paris, eminent, at that period, not only for the distinguished learning of its public professors and scholars, but for the splendour and gaiety of its court. It was the custom in those days, both in France and in other continental countries, to hold public disputations, in which the learned men of the age contended with each other on the most abstruse questions of the science and philsophy of the times. To Crichton, no fairer opportunity could be presented than what these public disputations offered, for obtaining distinction. He had already accomplished himself in the studies which furnished the topics of discussion. He had acquired the use of many both of the dead and living languages; and he possessed the manners and figure, not of a pedant who had immured himself in the cloisters of his college, but of a finished gentleman, who had made books not so much his task as his recreation. Soon after his arrival in Paris, he, accordingly, in obedience to the custom of the times, affixed placards, or challenges to literary and philosophic warfare, on the most conspicuous parts of the city, engaging that, at the expiration of six weeks from the date of the notice, he should present himself at the College of Navarre, to answer upon whatever subject should be there proposed to him, "in any science, liberal art, discipline, or faculty, whether practical or theoretic; and this in any one of twelve specified languages. A challenge of this nature, from so young a person, to dispute with the most profound and learned scholars in France, could not fail to excite astonishment; and it was pretty generally expected, that the stranger would decline the contest, under the pretence that his challenge was nothing more than a pasquinade against the University. The disputation, however, took place. Crichton, in the presence of an immense concourse of spectators, presented himself in this eminent seminary, encountered in argument the gravest philosophers and divines, who had assembled on the occasion, acquitted himself to the astonishment of all who heard him, aud received the public praises and congratulations of the president and four of the most eminent professors in the University.

But what seemed particularly to increase his triumph, and to embitter the defeat of those who attempted to cope with him, was the light and easy negligence, and the utter contempt of preparation, which he evinced before the contest. The court of Henry the Third of France was, at this time, one of the most gay and gallant in Europe. In the midst of national distresses, which might have sobered any reflecting monarch, and civil commotions which embroiled the country, the whole mind of the sovereign seemed to be occupied in the invention of the most expensive shews, and the arrangement of the most magnificent public festivals. Tourneys, where the knights jousted against each other, -courses at the ring,-tilting against the Saracen, and many other gallant amusements, accompanied with all the pomp and circumstance of chivalry, were at this time the favourite occupations of the king; and it is easy to imagine how acceptable such public shows must have heen, to the genius and disposition of Crichton. In the feats of arms which there led to distinction, he was calculated, both by the natural beauty of his figure, and the uncommon skill which he had acquired, to outstrip most of his competitors; we need not therefore wonder,

if, instead of betaking himself to his study, he shone pre-eminent in all the gay amusements and elegant accomplishments of the age. He was to be found in the ball-room, in the hunting-field, in the riding-house; and, the day after that in which he had astonished the most learned and able professors, by a display of such universal talent and erudition, he appeared, with all the fire and freshness of youth, at a tilting match in the Louvre; and here, with consummate skill and address, in presence of many of the ladies and princes of the court of France, he carried off the ring from every competitor, and remained victor in that martial accomplishment which was then so ardently cultivated in this country of chivalry.

He became now anxious to accomplish himself as a soldier; and for this purpose, although his design of travelling to Italy rendered any long continuance in it impossible, he entered into the French service, where he became, after serving for two years in the civil wars, which at that time depopulated France, an experienced officer, and rose to an honourable command in the French

army.

After two years residence in France, Crichton determined to continue his travels into Italy, at this time the centre from which all that was most remarkable in philosophy, in literature, and in the fine arts, had emanated throughout Europe. He first travelled to Rome; where, emboldened by his success in France, and in obedience to the manners of this age of literary rivalship, he took an early opportunity of publishing a similar challenge, to that which he circulated in Paris: and, on a day appointed, in presence of the Pope and many of the different cardinals, with a numerous audience, amongst which were many of the most learned men of the times, he presented himself to vindicate the pledge which he had given; and, as we are told by his biographer, again astonished and delighted the spectators, by the display of the most universal talents.

After a short residence at Rome, he next repaired to Venice, where he made the acquaintance of Aldus, the famous printer. At Venice he astonished every body as he had done elsewhere. The following is an account of him by an anonymous native author:

"The Scotchman," says this unknown writer, "whose name is James Crichton, is a young man of twenty years of age upon the 19th of August last. He is distinguished by a birth-mark, or mole, beneath his right eye. He is master of ten languages. These are, Latin and Italian, in which he is excellently skilled; Greek, in which he has composed epigrams; Hebrew, Chaldaic, Spanish, French, Flemish, English and Scotch; and he is also acquainted with the German. He is deeply skilled in philosophy, in theology, and in astrology; in which science he holds all the calculations of the present day to be erroneous. On philosophical and theological questions, he has frequently disputed with very able men, to the astonishment of all who have heard him. He possesses a most thorough knowledge of the Cabala. His memory is so astonishing, that he knows not what it is to forget; and, whenever he has once heard an oration he is ready to recite it again, word for word, as it was delivered. He possesses the talent of composing Latin verses, upon any subject which is proposed to him, and in every different kind of metre. Such is his memory, that even though these verses have been extempore, He will repeat them backwards, beginning from the last word in the verse. His orations are unpremeditated and beautiful. He is also able to discourse upon political questions with much solidity. In his person he is extremely beautiful. His address is that of a finished gentleman, even to a wonder; and his manner, in conversation, the most gracious which can be imagined. He is, in addition to this, a soldier at all points, (soldato a tutta botta,) and has, for two years, sustained an honourable command in the wars of France. He has attained to great excellence in the accomplishments of leaping and dancing, and to a remarkable skill in the use of every sort of arms; of which he has already given proofs. He is a remarkable horseman, and breaker of horses, and an admirable jouster, (giostratore singolare). His extraction is noble; indeed, by the mother's side, regal; for he is allied to the royal family of the Stuarts. Upon the great question of the procession of the Holy Spirit, he has held disputations with the Greeks, which were received with the highest applause; and, in these conferences, has exhibited an incalculable mass of authorities, both from the Greek and Latin Fathers, and also from the decisions of the different councils. The same exuberance is shewn, when he discourses upon subjects of philosophy or theology; in which he has all Aristotle and the commentators at his finger ends (alle mani.) St. Thomas and Duns Scotus, with their different disciples, the Thomists and Scotists, he has all by heart, and is ready to dispute on either side; which talent he has already exhibited with the most distinguished success: and, indeed, such is his facility upon these subjects, that he has never disputed, unless upon matters which were proposed to him by others. The Doge and his consort were pleased to bear him; and, upon doing so, testified the utmost amazement. He also received a present from the hands of his Serene Highness. Upon the whole, he is a wonder of wonders; in so much so, that the possession of such various and astonishing talents, united in a body so gracefully formed, and of so sanguine and amiable a temperament, has given rise to many strange and chimerical conjectures, He has, at present, retired from town to a villa, to extend two thousand conclusions, embracing questions in all the different faculties, which he means, within the space of two months, to sustain and defend in Venice, in the church of St. John and St.

Paul;-not being able to give his attention both to his own studies and to the wishes of those persons who would eagerly devote the whole day to hear him." At Padua, Crichton flew in the face of the University, and dismayed it. From Padua, he proceeded to Man

tua.

"There happened, at this time, to be at the court of Mantua, a certain Italian gentleman," saith the quaint Urquhart, of a mighty, able, strong, nimble, and vigorous body; but, by nature, fierce, cruel, warlike, and audacious, and superlatively expert and dexterous in the use of his weapon.' Elated by his uncommon skill, and rendered haughty by continual victory, this gentleman had chosen for himself a very singular profession -that of a travelling gladiator, or bravo. His custom was, on his arrival in any city, to challenge all who chose to try their skill with him in single combat; he himself laying down a certain sum of money, and his opponent the same, with the proviso, that the united purses should be the meed of the conqueror. On his arrival at Mantua, three gentleman had speedily accepted bis challenge; and such was the uncommon skill of their opponent, that all had paid the penalty of their rashness with their lives. Their deaths were the subject of universal regret at the court of Mantua; and this feeling became the more poignant, on account of the ungenerous exultation of the Italian; in whom, contrary to what we generally find in brave men, there appear to have been united the three extremes of courage, cruelty, and insolence.

Crichton, disregarding the danger he underwent, unappalled by the fate of his precursors in the enter prize, and perhaps confident, from having witnessed their attempts, of his own superior skill, determined to exchange the peaceful encounters in which he had atonished the Italians, for a combat of a more desperate kind. He, accordingly, sent a challenge to this formidable antagonist, and encountered him, before the assembled court of Mantua. It is easy to imagine, when we take into consideration the extraordinary popularity of this young foreigner, his amiable manners, and various and uncommon endowments, the very high interest which such a single combat must have excited. It was the struggle of the brutal courage of a professional duellist, against the high-spirited and chivalrous bravery of an accomplished gentleman; and the result was equally glorious to him here, as upon all other occasions. After a contest, in which he, at first, acted on the defensive, and evinced the most consummate skill in foiling the attacks, and at length completely exhausting the strength of his antagonist, he dexterously seized the advantage, became the assailant, and obtained an easy victory putting the Italian to death, by thrice passing his sword through his body.

In consequence of this achievement, and the high reputation he had required in Italy, the Duke of Mantua engaged him as the companion and preceptor to his son, Vincenzo di Gonzaga, a young man who had evinced a strong passion for literature, but was otherwise of a passionate temper and dissolute manners.

Dramatic entertainments were the rage at the court of Mantua, and Crichton was not behind hand here. For the entertainment of his pupil, the prince, and the whole court, Crichton composed a sort of satirical monologue, in which he himself performed fourteen different characters.

But let us listen for a moment to the inimitable language with which this story is clothed by Sir Thomas Urquhart. O, with how great liveliness did he repre sent the condition of all manner of men! how naturally did he set before the eyes of the beholders the rogueries of all professions, from the over-weening monarch to the peevish swain, through all the intermediate degrees of the superficial courtier, or proud warrior, dissembled churchman, doting old man, cozening lawyer, lying traveller, covetous merchant, rude seaman, pedantic scholar, amorous shepherd, envious artizan, vain-glorious master, and tricksy servant! He did with such variety display the several humours of all these sorts of people, and with so bewitching energy, that he seemed to be the original, they the counterfeit; and they the resemblance whereof he was the prototype. He had all the jeers, squibs, bulls, quips, taunts, whims, jest, clenches, gybes, mokes, jerks, with all the several kinds of equiVocations, and other sophistical captions, that could properly be adapted to the person by whose representation he had intended to inveigle the company into mirth; and would keep, in that miscellany discourse of his, which was all for the spleen, and nothing for the gall, such a climacterical and mercurially digested method, that, when the fancy of the hearers was tickied with any rare conceit, and that the jovial blood was moved, he held it going with another new device upon the back of the first, and another, yet another, and another again, succeeding one another, for the premoval of what is a stirring into a higher agitation, till, in the closure of the luxuriant period, the decumanal wave of the oddest whimsy of all, enforced the charmed spirits of the auditory (for affording room to his apprehension) suddenly to burst forth into a laughter; which commonly lasted so long, as he had leisure to withdraw behind the screen, shift off, with the help of a page, the suite he had on, apparel himself with another, and return to the stage to act afresh; for, by that time, their transported, disparpled, and sublimated fancies, by the wonderfully ope rating engines of his so'acious inventions, had, from the height to which the inward screws, wheels, and pulleys of his wit had elevated them, descended, by degrees, into their wonted stations, he was ready for the personating of another carriage, whereof. to the number of fourteen several kinds, (du ing the five hours' space, at

the duke's desire, the solicitation of the court, and his own recreation, he was pleased to histrionize it,) he shewed himself so natural a representative, that any would have thought he had been so many several actors, different in all things else, save only the stature of the body. **-First, he did present hims If with a crown on his head, a sceptre in his hand, being clothed with a purple robe, furred with ermine; after that with a mitre on his head, a crosier in his hand, and accoutred with a pair of lawn sleeves; and thereafter, with a helmet on his head, the visor up, a commanding stick in his hand, and arrayed in a buff suit, with a scarf about his middle. Then, in a rich apparel, after the newest fashion, he did shew himself like another Sejanus, with a periwig daubed with Cypress powder; in sequel of that, he came out with a three cornered cap on his head, some parchments in his hand, and writings hanging at his girdle, like chancery bills; and next to that, with a furred gown about him, an ingot of gold in his haud, and a bag full of money at his side; after all this, he appears again clad in a country jacket, with a prong in his hand, and a Monmouth-like cap on his head; then, very shortly after, with a palmer's coat on him, a bourdon in his hand, and some few cockle shells stuck to his hat, he looked as if he had come in pilgrimage from St. Michael; immediately after that, he domineers it in a bare unlined gowne, with a paire of whips in the one hand, and Corderius in the other; and in suite thereof he honderspondered it with a pair of panner-like breeches, a montera cap on his head, and a knife in a wooden sheath, dagger-ways, by his side; about the latter end he comes forth again, with a square in one hand, a rule in the other, and a leathern apron before him; then, very quickly after, with a scrip by his side, a sheephook in his hand, and a basket full of flowers to make nosegays for his mistress: and now, drawing to a closure, he rants it, first, in cuerpo, and vapouring it with jingling spurs, and his arms a-kenbol, like a Don Diego, he struts it, and, by the loftiness of his gait, plays the Capitan Spavento; then, in the very twinkling of an eye, you would have seen him again issue forth with a cloak upon his arm, in a livery garment, thereby representing the serving man: and lastly, at one time, amongst those other, he came out with a long grey beard and pucked ruff, crouching on a staff tipt with the head of a barber's cithern, and his gloves hanging by a button at his girdle."

Crichton's brilliant career was, however, brought to an untimely, and most premature conclusion. When walking one night through the streets of Mantua, returning from a visit which he had paid to his mistress, and playing, as he went along, upon his guitar, he found nimself suddenly attacked by a riotous company of persons in masks, whom, with that skill and activity for which he was so remarkable, he soon foiled and put to flight. Before this, however, he had disarmed and seized the leader of the party, and upon unmasking him, discovered that it was the Prince of Mantua, to whose court he belonged. Crichton, although he had been attacked in the meanest manner, and had only disarmed his master, in defending himself, was yet affected by the deepest concern, upon this discovery. He instantly dropped upon one knee; and taking his sword by the point, with romantic devotion, presented it to the prince, his master. Vincenzo naturally of a revengeful and treacherous temper, was at this moment inflamed with wine, irritated by defeat, and perhaps by jealousy.* Certain it is, that it will require the presence of one or all, of these dark and conflicting passions, to account for the act which followed. He received Crichton's sword, and instantly, with equal meanness and brutality, employed it in piercing his defenceless, and injured benefactor, through the heart.

Thus died the Admirable Crichton, in the twentysecond year of his age; preserving, in this last fatal encounter, that superiority to all other men which rendered his life so remarkable; and then, only, conquered, when his romantic ideas of honour had made him renounce the powers and the courage which, upon every other occasion, had so pre-eminently distinguished him.

The absolute amount of Crichton's abilities has been latterly much disputed. Attempts have been made to show that he was a mere impostor in literature. There appears no reason however to doubt his being a man of extraordinary cleverness and accomplishment. He was the intimate and esteemed friend of some of the first eminent men of his day; his pupil, Vincenzo of Gonzaga, was the patron of Tasso. Scaliger bears testimony to his amazing talent, while his censure testihes to his impartiality. "I have heard." says the author, "when I was in Italy, of one Crichton, a Scotchman, who had only reached the age of twenty-one, when he was killed by the command of the Duke of Mantua, who knew twelve different languages,-had studied the fathers and the poets,-disputed de omni scibili, and replied to his antagonists in verse. He was a man of

*I have said that the prince was inflained by jealousy, because other historians have represented the whole of this transaction as the result of a midnight brawl, in which Crichton, who was then in company with a lady to whom he had secretly paid his addresses, and who was also admired by the prince, was attacked by the latter and his attendants, in a fit of jealousy, and killed upon the spot. I have given the best authenticated and most probable account of this mysterious event. It seeins, how. ever, still uncertain whether Crichton owed his death to an accidental renconnter, or to a purpose of premeditated assassination. But all bis biographers agree, that whatever may have been the particular circumstances accompanying this calamitons event, he fell by the hand of his own master, Vincenzo, Prince of

Mantua. His death, as was to be expected from the impression inade by his uncommon talents, occasioned great and universal lamentation.-Lord Woodhouseice.

It

very wonderful genius; more worthy of admiration than of esteem. He had something of the coxcomb about him, and only wanted a little common sense. is remarkable that princes are apt to take an affection for geniuses of this stamp, but very rarely for truly learned men."

Crichton did nothing for philosophy. He invented nothing. He was not a teacher; he was only a specimen of what a man may be taught. He appears to have possessed great beauty, great personal adroitness, a quick power of perception joined to a most prodigious memory; and added to these, the ready address that naturally resulted from a confidence in his own resources. This last faculty alone would have ensured a triumphant career in debate, even though his reason were not of a profound order. His memory, however, appears to have been the most remarkable thing about him. He could recollect a discourse word for word after once hearing it. Sir Walter Scott (a real genius) partook of this faculty. Magliabecchi, the Florentine librarian, could recollect whole volumes, all in fact that he read.-He once supplied an author from memory with a copy of his own work, of which the original M.Š. had been lost. Magliabecchi however does not appear to have been other than a dull man. Could we imagine him adroit in mind, and adroit too in person, we immediately have a second Crichton; and it is not great stretch of imagination. The philosophy of the schools in Crichton's time was very cut and dry; reduced to heads and sections, and the motions in argument as much reduced to rule, as a game of chess by Sarratt or Philidor. Crichton then had a mind to learn, address and person to execute; a coincidence of faculties neither difficult to imagine, nor improbable to exist. He was perhaps, without vastness, profoundness, or even originality of intellect, the cleverest man that has appeared. It must be remembered too, that from the prematurity of his death, his was rather a life of promise than performance; and, in spite of the proverb, promises are not always made to be broken.

A MASONIC EXHORTATION. Oh, un-in-one-breath-utterable skill!

BEN JONSON.

IF your soul be not too drony,
Go and hear the great Masoni!
Scarce Napoleon (nicknam'd Boney)
Was more wondrous than Masoni:
'Pollo's pet, Euterpe's crony,
Is the exquisite Masoni.

All the sweets that live in honey
Are concentred in Masoni,
And more swift than fleetest pouey
Run the triplets of Masoni.
Utterly himself unknown he
Should be, who not knows Masoni!
E'en from Greece Colocotroni
Ought to come, to hear Masoni.
That heart must be ultra-stony
That is touch'd not by Masoni,
Fiddler rich and rare, and
toney
Soul-enrapturing Masoni!
Money without ceremony
Should be shower'd on Masoni.
Oh, ye marvel-seekers, on'y
Go and hear the great Masoni!

use what name suits best with his own views of the matter] This man of office dined in style that would have won him fame at any civic board in the worldthat of Quanty Chanty Qua, or what else they call him, the Lord Mayor of Madagascar excepted; for putrid fish would have heightened his stomach into his skull and he would never have got it out again. By the way he would not have been the first with the stomach there; and therefore when Pliny describes the men with "heads below their stomachs," he slily satirizes many a Roman gourmand.

But to our man of office. He could play cribbage, and I think whist; draughts, but I am certain not chess; and he could laugh at the speech of any man, greater (in wealth and office) than himself, whether there happened to be any wit in it or not.

One thus gifted, in other respects, was of course proportionally gifted in the article of ears; and thus he could not but hear who were the wags of the day, and could not choose but be of their company, when opportunity served.

In the month of -, the snow fell deep, and lay long, the mails were stopped, and the whole city thrown upon its own resources; and one evening our official gentleman met two of the prime artificers of fun. Night was closing in, and the frost was such as to turn the breath to ice within a quarter of an inch of the lips. In such cases and such countries, there is but one resource -to beat the breath till it can thaw for itself a passage through the ice-hardened atmosphere. Some one says that there is no getting radical heat but through the medium of radical moisture," and so the trio adjourned to the tavern, whose portal was invitingly new. In they went, seated themselves in the best parlour, with the little horse shoe table between them and the fire: below which, their toes could have defied the frost of Boothia, or Melville Island. The man of office was placed in the middle, like a royal scutcheon between two supporters" id est, rampant beasts of fury. The bottle-I rather think it was a jug, but n'importe"passed and returned;" and the "middle man" bumpered with right and with left, the adulation of his supporters falling sweet the while upon him. He was Adonis; he was Solon, he was-but I was to mention no modern name. In the last of these characters, he played the orater, till the manual plaudits made glasses and jug dance again, as if they had been inspired by the alloverpowering bounds. When he could play the orator no longer, he was woke to glory in the histrionic art: now comedy, and then tragedy, till he fell in the field of Bosworth in a style, which Kean could not have outdone-for it was nature itslf.

"

There he lay quiescent as Cæsar a year after the stab of Brutus; and then began the "practical joke." The dining tables were ranged in the middle of the apartment; and covered with the purest linen. The hero was stretched on them, with crape cap and ruff, and covered with the same. Candles in pairs were placed at the head, the shoulders, the knees, and the feet, and a silver salver bearing a silver salt-cellar was set on the breast. The room was festooned with extempore drapery; the candles were lighted in the sconces; the casements where thrown wide open; and the fire was extinguished. One part of the arrangement I bad almost forgotten to mention; a pile of rummers and wine-glasses was placed on the upper cloth nearly in contact with the hero's elbow, and the carpet was removed from the floor.

Having made these arrangements, the other parties adjourned into another apartment, where they could readily hear any sound uttered in that which they had left. As their share of the carouse had not been half a glass to the official man's bumper, and as they nad used no superfluous viands that could fermert their potation, they were in a condition for resuming it after supper while they waited the result; but they occasionally peeped through the clink of the door which was left ajar, and fortified sitting-head-high by a

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