Even in this short extract the reader will perceive the licence of which the writer speaks. The volume abounds with of equal beauty and equal singularity. To can do little more than announce the appear-vindicates such experiments, would require examine how far the genius of the author ance of this truly important work in our more space than we can afford; and we must FROM the crowded state of our columns, we lator, which we do with equal sincerity and plea sure. When this work first appeared, France could boast with truth, that she alone in Europe exacquirements in abstract science; it is now the hibited the example of a statesman combining first-rate political knowledge with the highest present number. It throws even more light dismiss the poet with the hope, that when pride of England, that the first of her statesmen on the interesting struggle between aristocracy and democracy in the Roman republic than its predecessor, and is, at least, equally as creditable to the zeal and fidelity of the translators. We hope hereafter to give a fuller account of the work. Caractacus; a Metrical Sketch, in twelve parts. London, 1832. Kidd.' OUR sympathy in English History can reach no farther than the days of Alfred: nay, the reign of that monarch is to us the wall between the Forth and Clyde, which extended so far among barbarians that the Romans retreated behind their second wall in a more civilized district. In like manner, we have long had thoughts of limiting our nationality to the period of the Conquest, and of sternly refusing to cast a moment's regard on any characters, real or fictitious, whose date reaches higher than the battle of Hastings. What, then, shall we say of Caractacus in twelve books!-it would be easy to write that it is a work of a national kind--that it is divided regularly into twelve parts-that it has its vicissitudes of peace and war, of sorrow and love-that the Britons, victorious one day, are overcome by the Romans on the next-that Druids worship and speculate their among of oak, and that the verse groves is sometimes musical and sometimes rough, abounding with passages of natural beauty, and with sonorous names of natives and Romans, all of which run smooth on the even road of blank verse. This summary mode of criticism is neither according to our own nature, nor would it be courteous towards an author who has evidently studied much to please the world and win a name in song; we shall therefore allow the poet to speak for himself: and this is the more necessary, inasmuch as he says he has exceeded even the ordinary licence of poetry in the unequal length of his lines, and in occasionally burthening such words as various and every with a treble accent. The character of Caractacus shall serve as an example :— Now the Silurian king, Caractacus, The hope of Britain, and her tough right arm, Swart as her own brown oaks, scarred like the pine Blasted by light-bolts, ranged the rude hills Of western Britain-Cambria's lesser Alps. His voice, his look, his attitude, his strong And hard-knit joints, broad breast, and sinewy limbs, Abashed the Roman that confronted him. Oft when his hardy followers drooped and died, Like lilies in the frost by winter slain; Or like the ripe rose killed by summer suns, next we meet him, the subject of his song will be of later date, and that it will be the pleasure of his muse to avoid, unless her wings be grown stronger, any hazardous flights in the harmony of numbers. Cl. Claudiani Opera; Corn. Nepotis Vitæ. Bipontine Edition. London, 1832. Treuttel, Würtz & Co. THE Bipontine editions of the Classics, are honourably distinguished by superior purity of text and simplicity of annotation. They extend to seventy-seven volumes of Greek, and one hundred and fifteen of Latin authors, well printed, on good paper, and at a very moderate price. The authors, of whose works the reprints are before us, furnish a curious example of the instability of fame: in the days of Chaucer, Claudian was regarded as the rival of Virgil, and Nepos more highly honoured than Plutarch; but now, the former is fallen into neglect, as unmerited as his ancient elevation was extravagant; and the latter is never seen, but by the boys of the lowest form. Messrs. Treuttel & Würtz deserve great praise for the care they have taken in supporting the merited character of the Bipontine series, in the new editions of those works, of which the impression was exhausted and alas! we must add, that we fear their work will retain its pre-eminence, for the English publishers are not likely ever to get up a classical series, that will have the slightest pretensions to compete with the Bipontine. We almost hope that the attempt may never be made, for we have witnessed the lamentable deficiency of judgment, and almost of common sense, displayed in the only three great classical undertakings that we have witnessed in England. We shall, perhaps, at some future time, take an opportunity of calling the attention of the public, to the gross absurdity of the entire system of classical education in this country, and more especially to the deficiencies in most, if not all, of the editions of classical authors, now used in English schools. Passages from the Diary of a late Physician. With Notes and Illustrations by the Editor. 2 vols. 1832. Edinburgh, Blackwood; London, Cadell. THE extensive circulation of Blackwood's Magazine, made these papers known far and wide; and to the general commendation with which they were received, we may attribute their being thus collected. It therefore, only remains for us to announce the republication in two very neat volumes. Carnot's Reflections on the Infinitesimal Analysis. Translated by the Rev. W. R. Browell, M.A. Oxford, Parker; London, Whittaker & Co.; Cambridge, Deighton. A laborious dissertation on the metaphysical principles of the calculus, would be sadly misplaced in any periodical not wholly devoted to science; and in the case of a work so extensively known, and so deservedly celebrated as that of Carnot, all criticism must be superfluous. It only remains to bear testimony to the zeal, fidelity and judicious discrimination of the trans him in that more valuable knowledge, which yields not to Carnot in science, and far surpasses teaches how to provide for the real happiness and true prosperity of a country. Tour in Germany, Holland, and England. By a German Prince. Vols. III. & IV. London, 1832. E. Wilson. OUR copious translations from the original work, make it impossible for us to do more for this clever translation, than announce the publication. Analysis of the Seven Parts of Speech. By the Rev. C. J. Lyon, M.A. 1832. Edinburgh, Oliver & Boyd; London, Simpkin & Marshall. WE agree with Mr. Lyon, that the neglect of 'Tooke's Diversions of Purley' is very discreditable to the taste of this perverse generation, and that most of the works called 'English Grammars' are very wretched productions. Though by no means satisfied with the cogency of all his arguments, or the truth of all his conclusions, we can safely recommend his own book to all who have a taste for grammatical disquisition. It exposes many popular errors, and brings to light many new and interesting facts respecting the peculiar structure of the English language. The Classical Scholar's Guide. By Richard Carr. Published for the Author by Foster, Kirkby Lonsdale; and Richardson, London. THIS is a very useful treatise on classical pronunciation, a subject that has been too much neglected by English scholars. But the author strangely overrates its interest and importance; he favours us in his preface with a dissertation on criticism, particularly in its application to his book, which would scarcely be justifiable were he ushering into the world a new system of the universe; but which, prefixed to a compilation from the writers on Latin Prosody, is perfectly ridiculous. The book is disfigured by some other marks of pedantry, but they are over-balanced by the ability and meritorious industry displayed in systematizing the rules regulating pronunciation. The essay on the translation of Greek names into Latin is not likely to prove of much value, since the world has at length become enlightened enough to learn, that all translation from Greek into Latin is exquisitely absurd. Equally absurd is the system of writing in the barbarous jargon of easily and more usefully in their own language. Except for the purpose of obscuring knowledge, we can discover no reason for Mr. Carr giving his treatise on grammatical figures, and his system of rhetoric, in bad Latin, rather than good English. The book concludes with a new system of Mnemonics, not one whit better or worse than the scores of similar inventions which have been published since the Memoria Technica. To all such we have a decided objection, the cultivation of irrational memory is injurious to the mental faculties to make students learn what is either scholastic Latin, what students could learn more unintelligible or nonsensical, is to teach them to become contented with parrot-knowledge-to be satisfied with the sound and regardless of the sense. ORIGINAL PAPERS ITALY. O, Italy! I've breathed thy skies, That flashed from Cæsar's roofs of gold. Wrap thee in sackcloth, Italy! Strew ashes on thy brow; Thou hast but Roman memory, And Roman bondmen now. Oh, Land of Gods!-what! quailed and dumb Thou first of Nations!-Thou? O could thy Scipio see thee now, By monarchs spoiled, by priests befooled, Yet wonder not thy sky is dim, Thou queen of sunny climes! The eulogistic chimes Of all that hymn thy Roman praise, O, thou hadst quaffed, to drunkenness, And triumphed, till no lip could bless From Egypt to the Rhine; What lessons-ruined Conqueror!- And mocking, with its mournful state, The hero fool of Macedon Might parallel with thee; O'er thee! the earth's resistless lord And He! some unmemorial'd sod The mighty madman! O how soon He had ambition's utmost vow- And yet, O, Italy! 'mid all The evil thou hast done, Men wail and wonder at thy fall, They wonder, when the east and west Mingling their voices as they come, O, thou wilt come! In freedom's hall O, join, the nations on thee call, Up! tyrants are the glorious spoil;- Up! share with us that gift divine, Our fathers' sons have won from thine. Belfast. J. K. B. How much THE WALNUT TREE. "A brave tree that, master! in the span, now? Sound at the heart, no doubt. Indeed-(and the speaker glanced at the tree from top to stem)-a pretty piece of timber!" The owner of the tree, an old, hale man, was leaning over the quickset hedge that fenced his garden: his rugged, ruddy face seemed kindling up in the sunset of a July evening; and as he watched the declining light, burning through a row of distant elms, there was a cheerful composure in his look -a thoughtfulness becoming the features of a patriarch. He heard the speaker, and, with a slight movement of the head, acknowledged his praises of the walnut-tree, which grew at the side of a little white-walled cottage, and flung out its giant arms above the roof. its root. When she had finished, she told me that, when she was dead, that tree would always keep her in my mind ;—and so it has. "Twas the last piece of work she did, for the next day she sickened, and the next, -for I don't know how it is, but your poor folks are never so long dying as your rich ones, she died. Well, the tree grew and grew; and it's a foolish thing to say, but there seemed to me a something of the old woman in it. Even now, in the dusk sometimes,in a sort of day-dream, d'ye mind, as I lean with my back against this hedge,-I see there a little child in petticoats holding a twig, and an old dame shovelling up the earth. But this, as I say, is in the evening, when work's done, and we think of a thousand things we never heed at labour. I am seventy-five, Sir; and though it is a good age, I often wonder, when I look on that tree, how soon I have grown old." "Shocking times, these, my master," observed the stranger, at length making the old man an attentive listener;—"bad times!" | "Yes, Sir. Wheat has gone up two shillings a quarter. Last harvest was the worst within my memory; and my sickle has glittered amongst the corn for the last sixty years." "Aye, I believe the harvest wasn't so good but I meant the war; though, to be sure, the last accounts were more favourable. Five thousand Frenchmen were killed by our brave veterans!" "Poor souls!-God help them! But what, Sir, is all this war about-what is it for?" "For! Why, for the king's honour and glory, and—and all that! So it stands to reason, that every loyal subject should assist his king's gracious majesty. Now the army want stores. You wouldn't like to sell that tree, would you? If 'twere sound all the way up, I don't know that, as an honest contractor, I might not offer fifty guineas." "Fifty guineas!" Aye, and, in my poor judgment, I think they'd sound better to your ears clinking in your pockets, than do those boughs creaking in the wind. Come, is it a bargain? But first tell me how old the tree is." "Seventy years ago, next February, that tree-and he'd have long arms that could clip it about-was no thicker than my little finger. I was just five years old when 'twas put into the ground." "That's some time back to remember." "Remember!—why, it's in my mind as though it were but yesterday. My old grandmother-I see her now-turned up the mould, just there, with the spade, and giving me the tree to steady straight; I held it in the hole whilst she heaped the earth about "I dare say," replied the contractor, who, during the speech of the old man, had continued to observe the tree with a smug, professional look, as though, in his day-bookand-ledger eye, he was parcelling out its beautiful trunk into lots; "I dare say--all that is so like nature; but fifty guineas, you see, are a good round sum;—and then, you know, to serve your king, and to help to beat those rascally French, who live upon live frogs, and wear lignum vitæ shoes;-well, shall I count out the money?" And the contractor drew from his huge coat pocket a leathern bag, and, untying it, suffered some of its glittering contents to meet the eye of the old cottager. "But, as to serving the king, how can my walnut-tree do good to his majesty?" "Don't I tell you, the army want stores." "Stores ?" "Yes. I've contracted to supply some. I've already bought five hundred pieces of live timber, and I want, among the rest, your grandmother's walnut-tree, to cut for our brave troops into musket stocks." The old man left the hedge, and closed the wicket-gate. He did not answer a syllable; -but, had Demosthenes made an oration on the old man's disgust, he could not have spoken with more significance, or with greater emphasis, than, struck by the fingers of the J. cottager, did the wooden latch. BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF ROME,-No. IX, A word or two of Rome itself, and I have done. Rome is the most imposing city I have ever seen: how far feeling may influence judgment I know not; but I intend to speak of it independent of association and its fame and history. I know no city that impresses you so strongly with a feeling of architectural magnificence as Rome, when you first enter at the Piazza del Popolo and drive down the Corso. Notwithstanding its irregularity, and the paltry shops and stalls that seemingly disfigure it, I think the Corso is the finest street in Europe. It is narrow, but this gives height to the buildings; and there is not any street, I doubt if there be any city, that contains so many palaces of the same nobleness, variety, grandeur, and architectural pomp; and the intermixture of churches, palaces, shops, and stalls, take away all feeling of the court end of a city-of the one spot that is fine and showy. This strange association of magnificence and beggary is : of, I was unfortunately too late to be introduced to a woman who had not long before stabbed a man to death with the bodkin which she wore in her hair. I have seen several portraits of her, and a fine head she has; but, under all its beauty, there is a demoniacal passion, that made me shudder. I met just such another--the same, for anything I know-in some obscure and remote paths between the Villa Spada and S. Pietro in Montorio. I was strolling about, when, whether I was intruding into some haunt, and this creature was set to watch me, I know not, but ten times at least did she cross my path. At first, I made no other observation than on the fearful expression of her face, but from the crossings and recross common in Rome, and, contrary to what I should have expected, it impresses you with a notion of magnificence, and not of beggary. Rome is studded with palaces; in the most obscure, the most vile, the worst situation, will be found sumptuous and noble palaces, that are unequalled by the best in London-but indeed we have none in London. If Rome can be said to have a court end, it must be, I suppose, the Quirinal, where the Pope actually resides and certainly, when we stand on Monte Cavallo, with the Palazzo Pontifico on one hand, the gardens of the Colonna on the other, the Rospigliosi and the Consulta before you, and pass from hence to the Quattro Fontane, and look down on S. Maria Maggiore, with palaces on both sides, there is no intrusion of "baserings, and meetings at every turning, I thought matter." But the noblest palaces are not in it questionable if I were to return without this quarter: the Borghese, the Farnese, the being tickled under the ribs with this bodkin Spada, and many others, are situated close a bare bodkin," if you please to laugh, to the Tiber in some of the most obscure and but let me assure you, it is very like a dagdirty holes in Rome; the Corsini, the most ger;-and such was the terrible power of her sumptuous of all, the Salviati, and others, scowl, and the enervating consciousness of are on the other side the Tiber, to say nothing her being a woman, that I thought at the of the Vatican itself. moment, and think still, that if we were to have had a brawl, I would willingly have exchanged her for any two men in Rome. I have heard of a Spanish proverb, but I think it must be Roman, "never do to-day what you can do to-morrow:" I confess, the quiet, deliberate indifference of the people at Rome, is a little vexatious to a hasty traveller. I tried half-a-dozen times to get admission into S. Stefano Rotunda, before I succeeded: I asked several persons each time where to apply, or when to come, and not one could inform me. S. Maria Navicella opposite, I have not seen, nor the tomb of the Scipios, nor twenty other places that are not worth twenty several applications. At S. Maria della Pace, we succeeded, after some difficulty, in finding out the residence of the Sacristan. He was taking his siesta, and on no consideration, neither for love, nor money, nor ill-humour, would the servant consent to disturb him. We must come again. But why are people to be annoyed and inconvenienced, because you are in a hurry? Very true, but if these people did not rouse your spleen, you are more of a philosopher than I take you for. By some strange perversity, you are never right in your applications-an hour too soon, or an hour too late-it is a holiday-or the custode is gone out. If it be not open to-day, you had better come to-morrow. Will it be open to-morrow? That never struck them-they don't know. No one at Rome is acquainted with the forms and regulations of how to gain admission anywhere. The people are civil and obliging, but never stir a foot to direct you. It is of no consequence to them, nor, in their opinion, to you, whether you find what you seek or not. I think there can be very little scandal at Rome, for no one seems to interest themselves about you. At our hotel we pass in and out without a question. I have never yet seen either the master or mistress. The Piazzas are numerous, but not large; the Piazza Navona is the best. The Fountains have a very delightful effect; the supply of water is really grand; that at the Fontana Paola is situated so high, and runs in such quantities as to turn several mills, after leaving the bason of the fountain: but those in front of St. Peter's are the only ones in Rome that are beautiful. These are so simple and elegant, that you know them from drawings as well as if you had seen them; but you can never feel their beauty till you have stood in that noble court, surrounded by those magnificent corridors, in front of that grand temple, and seen their falling waters silvered by a Roman moon. All the rest, including the hieroglyphic in the Piazza Navona, and the huge absurdity at the Fountain Trevi, are bad, and bad in proportion to their cost, their labour, their pretensions, and their fame. I would willingly have thought otherwise of the latter, for the sake of Corinna, of its noble rock work, and its fine stream of water. Rome has the character of being a very dirty city, and it deserves it. I have been here in fine weather, but the filth accumulated in the most public places (the noble flight of steps leading to the Trinita de Monti, in proof), and the scandalous abuse of the door-ways, which are all open, would have satisfied me it must be so, if rain had not fallen in time to convince me of it. In fact, Rome has all the dirt, but none of the busy stir of a trading city-all the external pomp of palaces, without the brilliant gaiety of a court. It must be a dull city to all whose happiness is in society: but students, artists, and retired men, never can be dull here. Of the people I know nothing. There seems to me a more uniform expression in the faces of the women, more of family likeness, than I should have expected in so large a city, subject to such changes as Rome has been. But Roman beauty is not of the highest order. You meet not unfrequently with fine expressive heads, like Pasta's; but the expression is not pleasant; and their figures are broad and square. The finest women are dignified and stately, with something of the voluptuous, nothing of the pleasurable, in the face; a great deal of passion, but nothing of playfulness. At the studio But I have done. If I have not conveyed to you what my feelings have been on visiting this memorable city-this glory of ages if I have not given you a good general idea of what you would feel on visiting Rome, I have failed from no neglect. These letters have cost me many weary hours. D. W. MUZIO CLEMENTI. He now MUZIO CLEMENTI was certainly no ordinary man. A brief memoir of him, for which we shall be partly indebted to the Harmonicon, will not, therefore, be unacceptable to our readers. He was a native of Rome, and successively, a pupil of Cordicelli, Santarelli, and Carpini, in harmony, vocal composition, and counterpoint. When only twelve years old, he composed a mass, which evinced great promise of future eminence. About this time, the late Mr. Beckford, then on his travels in Italy, induced the youthful genius to accompany him to England, and to reside with him; and, during such residence, Clementi acquired a generál knowledge of literature and science, a considerable proficiency in both the dead and living languages, and devoted daily several hours to the study and practice of music. At eighteen, he not only surpassed all his contemporary pianoforte players, in execution, taste, and expression, but had composed his celebrated Opera 2— a work, which by the consent of all musicians, may be considered as the basis, on which the whole fabric of modern pianoforte sonatas has been founded. quitted the roof of his English patron, and was engaged to preside at the piano, at the King's Theatre. In 1780, he made a tour on the Continent, and was received everywhere, with the patronage of sovereigns, the admiration of his brother musicians, and the enthusiastic applauses of the public. Accustomed to the measured, and somewhat cold plaudits of an English audience, the first hurst of Parisian enthusiasm so astonished him, that he frequently afterwards jocosely remarked, he could hardly believe himself the same Clementi in Paris, as in London. In Vienna, he became acquainted with Haydn, Mozart, Salieri, and many other celebrated musicians, then resident in that city. He returned to London in 1784, and pursued his professional career with increasing reputation, as a teacher, composer, and performer. He, subsequently, however, and more than once, visited the Continent; and on the last occasion, when called to Rome by the death of a brother, so completely had the war interrupted all communication, that, being disappointed of remittances from London, he pledged his snuff-boxes and rings, presented to him in his tour; and it was only after many hazardous attempts, that he reached his adopted country, in the year 1810. His return was hailed with delight, by the profession, and the musical public, in the hope of enjoying his performance, and benefiting by his instruction: all, however, were alike doomed to disappointment, for he had determined, neither to take pupils, nor to play in public. Clementi was one of the founders of the Philharmonic Society, and he generally conducted a concert each season. To this Society he presented two of his MS. symphonies, the first of which was performed in 1819, and a grand overture, in 1824. In the same year, he conducted also the performance of one of his symphonies, at the Concert Spirituel, and on the 17th of December, the élite of the professors in the metropolis gave him an entertainment at the Albion Tavern. On this occasion, he indulged his assembled friends with a last proof that his fancy was unfettered by age, and his finger unpalsied by years. He extemporized on a subject from Handel's first Organ Concerto, in a style, in which those who had been his contemporaries or pupils, immediately recognized the undiminished powers of their old friend or instructor; and at which those, who for the first time heard the more than septuagenarian artist, could scarcely find terms to express their delight and surprise. It was, he declared, the proudest day of his life; and it was a proof of the respect and reward, which, to the last moment of protracted life, attend upon a youth spent in temperance and virtuous industry, and a manhood guided by honour. THE LATE CAPTAIN ABERCROMB TRANT. As merit is peculiar to no age or station, so may it be displayed in all situations; and, however interest or policy may influence the elevation of persons of rank who are not distinguished, or of hoary heads who are not veterans, final justice is the reward of merit. March 22.-The Rev. Dr. Buckland, Vice President, in the chair.-The reading of a paper, entitled 'An Account of Observations and Experiments on the Torpedo,' by John Davy, M.D., F.R.S., was commenced.--The following gentlemen were proposed Fellows-viz. Charles Purton Cooper, Edward Ayshford Sanford, and Decimus Burton, Esqs. [The paper read at the meeting on the 15th, on 'A Method of deducing the Longitude from the Moon's right ascension,' was by Thomas Kerigan, Esq., and not Rerigan, as stated in our former report.] ROYAL INSTITUTION. Captain Trant, the only son of Major-General Sir Nicholas Trant, although only in his 28th year, and having entered His Majesty's army since the termination of the last general European War, had seen service in India, and was March 15.-Mr. C. Wheatstone gave a lecsubsequently employed in the lonian islands; ture On the Vibrations of Columns of Air in his gallantry and exertions more than once cylindrical and conical Tubes.' After enumeratbrought him into notice. But it is as the authoring the various modes by which columns of air of two works, Two Years in Ava,' and 'A Journey through Greece,' that he is entitled to this notice. He died on the 13th inst., we believe from the effects of service, at the house of his only sister, the vicarage of Great Baddow. Brave, talented, honourable, his family have to regret a relative, whose qualities endeared, and whose ability was valuable; whilst his companions have lost a friend, and the service an officer, who cannot easily be replaced. OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP ON LITERATURE AND ART. POETRY seems to be taking something of a devout turn: Mr. Robert Montgomery has advertised a poem, to be called the Messiah,' in six books, dedicated to the Queen; and we have this moment received an illustrated volume of devotional verses, by Miss Landon. Mr. Rogers, we hear, has made considerable progress in the embellishments of a second volume of his poems, to be a companion to his splendid poem of Italy'; and one in whose taste we have full confidence, assures us, that the landscapes, by Turner, are the very finest things of the kind produced by that eminent artist. A poem, in twelve parts, called 'The Maid of Elvar,' from the hand of Allan Cunningham, is in the press; the scene is on the border, the time is the early part of the reign of Queen Mary-it is of the narrative kind, and gives a national and domestic picture of the people in the days when reform in religion, and hostilities with England, rendered Scotland the scene of many a romantic exploit. The Annuals, it appears, have not been so productive as formerly, and it is said, some of them will be relinquished. The Juveniles of Westley and Ackermann are to be united, under the superintendence of Mrs. Hall. We hear that no less than seven Lords have had works accepted or bespoke by one bookseller. We anticipate some sport with these star and garter authors. It is in contemplation to celebrate the may be put into sonorous vibration, and which constitute so many classes of wind instruments of music, the lecturer proceeded to detail the principal results of Bernoulli's Theoretical Investigations. When a column of air in a cylindrical tube, open at both its ends, produces the lowest sound it is capable of rendering, according to this theory, the motions of the particles of air are made in opposite directions, alternately to and from the central point or node, where the variations of density are greatest. Mr. Wheatstone gave the following new and decisive experimental proof of this theoretical deduction. He took a tube bent nearly to a circle so that its ends were opposite to each other, with a small space between them; he then took a glass plate, capable of making the same number of vibrations as the air contained within the tube, and causing it to sound by drawing a violin bow across it, placed it at equal distances between the two orifices, so that the impulses of the vibrating surface were made, at the same instant of time, towards one, and from the other end of the tube; as might be expected from the theory, these effects neutralizing each other, no resonance took place, and the air in the tube remained at rest. But when (the two halves of the tube moving round each other by means of a joint,) the orifices were brought opposite to different vibrating parts of the plate, so that the impulses were made at the same instant towards or from both the orifices, the column of air powerfully resounded. He then proceeded to show, that, when a column of air sounded any other than its fundamental note, it did so in consequence of a division of the column into parts of equal length separately vibrating, in the same manner as the harmonic sounds of a string have been explained: that the air may vibrate when divided into any number of aliquot parts, and the corresponding sounds are as the series of natural numbers, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, &c.: that, at the limits of each vibrating part, a communication may be made with the atmosphere, by an aperture, or any injury to the sound: that, in each mode of even by entirely separating the tube, without division in which there is a node in the centre, (i. e. in each alternate mode,) a solid partition may be placed at the centre of the tube, dividing it into two equal parts, each giving the same sound as the entire tube when the partition was removed: and that, consequently, a tube stopped at one end gives a series of sounds corresponding to the progression 1, 3, 5, 7, &c. of a pipe double its length and open at both ends. After verifying these established results, the lecturer proceeded to show the erroneousness of the prevailing opinion, stated by Chladni and others, "that the end at which a tube is excited into vibration, must always be considered as an open end, even if it be placed immediately to the mouth, as in the horn and trumpet." He showed that a cylindrical tube gave the same fundamental sound and the same series of harmonics, when it was excited as a horn, or with a reed, at one end, the other end being open, as when it was excited like a flute or flageolet, at one end, the other end being shut. In proof of this, he adduced the cremona pipe of the organ, which is a cylindrical tube, one-half the length of the open diapason pipe, which gives the same note; and the clarionet, which is also a cylindrical tube, (the conical bell which terminates it, being merely an useless appendage,) giving a fundamental sound, and an octave below that of a flute of equal length, and the series of harmonics of a tube closed at one end. He then adverted to the circumstance, that, in all cases of the production of sound at the closed end of the tube, the tone is invariably more powerful, than when the sound is produced at the open end of the same tube; and explained, that in the one case, the impulses are made at that part of the air where the condensations and dilatations are greatest, and in the other case, where these variations of density are least. This point was illustrated by some experiments with the flame of hydrogen gas, by which means a column of air can be excited into vibration at any point, between the open end and the node, with a corresponding alteration of inten sity. At the orifice of the tube, the smallest possible flame is sufficient to excite the sound, which, however, ceases, if the flame be made to move towards the node (i. e. the centre of a tube open at both ends, or the closed end of a tube stopped at one end); but if, at the same time that the flame is advanced in the tube, it be also enlarged in volume, the sound continues, and with increased intensity; by continuing to move the flame towards the node, and at the same time, to proportionally enlarge the volume, the sound progressively increases in loudness, until it attains its maximum at the node. By analogous experiments on the sounds produced by the flame of hydrogen gas, in tubes of different diameters, Mr. W. showed, that the loudest tone is produced in tubes of the smallest diameter, (when a certain limit is not ex ceeded), which is exactly the reverse of the generally-adopted opinion; and he stated the following, to be the general results of numerous experiments: that the flame is required to be larger, as the length of the tube is greater, as its diameter is less, and as the point of excis tation is nearer the node. The lecturer went on to give an exposition of the laws of the vibrations of the air, in coni. cal tubes, and explained, that the air in a tube of this form, excited into vibration, at its closed end, or the summit of the cone, gave the same fundamental sound, and the same series of harmonics, as a cylindrical tube open at both ends. To this similarity of effect, he ascribed the general error, of considering all wind instruments as tubes open at both ends. To illustrate this subject, he showed that the trumpet, French-horn, and hautbois pipes of the organ, all being conical tubes, gave the same sound as the cremona pipe (a cylindrical tube, excited precisely in the same way), which is only one-half their length. He compared, also, the hautbois, which is a conical tube, with a clarionet, which is a cylindrical tube of the same length, and proved that, in the former, the fundamental sounds were the same, absolutely and relatively, as in the flute (a tube open at both ends, of the same length); and that, in the latter, they were the same with those of a stopped pipe of the same length. The lecture concluded with a variety of experiments on the sounds of isolated portions of conical tubes, the situations of their nodes, &c., with reference to their practical applications; which we cannot spare space to detail. LINNEAN SOCIETY. March 20.-A. B. Lambert, Esq., in the chair.-William Bentley, John Downes, T. E. Smith, Esqs., and Lieut.-Col. Sykes, were elected Fellows of the Society.-A paper by Mr. William Yarrell, 'On the Organ of Voice in a new species of wild swan, the Cygnus Buccinator of Dr. Richardson's Fauna Boreali-Americana,' was read by the Secretary. A new species of Parrakeet, from New Holland, was also exhibited and described; and Mr. D. Don's paper, descriptive of several new species of composita, was concluded. A small species of reptile from South America, was exhibited, in its form supplying a link between Lizards and Snakes; and the owner very handsomely offered the use of this interesting specimen to Mr. Thomas Bell, by whom it will be described and figured. A collection of dried plants presented by the Hon. East India Company, and various other donations, were on the table. HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. March 20th.-A paper, by the Rev. L. Vernon Harcourt, was read, entitled, "Considerations upon some of the more important vital functions of Plants." It appears that the view the author has taken of these matters "leads him to dissent in some measure from the opinions expressed by Mr. Lindley," in his "account of a remarkable instance of anomalous structure, in the trunk of an exogenous tree,' which article appeared some time last year, in the Journal of the Royal Institution; amongst other positions, to which Mr. Harcourt cannot reconcile his mind, is that which attempts to establish the fact, that the numerous systems of vegetation, of which every plant consists, are absolutely independent of the plant itself. It was announced from the chair, that medals would be bestowed, on the 3rd of April next, for the best collections of Camellias, which might be exhibited at the meeting on that day. Joshua Stanger, Esq., J. W. Sutherland, Esq., and Joseph Dobinson, Esq., were elected Fellows of the Society. MEETINGS FOR THE ENSUING WEEK. Royal College of Physicians.. Nine, P.M. MONDAY, Royal Geographical Society... Nine, P.M. Medical Society.. Eight, P.M. Medico-Botanical Society .Eight, P.M. TUESDAY, Institution of Civil Engineers.. Eight, P.M. Medico-Chirurgical Society.... p. 8, P.M. Society of Arts, (Evening WEDNES. lustrations). (Geological Society ...... {Society of Arts THURSD. Royal Society FRIDAY, SATURD Eight. P.M. . p. 8, P.M. p. 7, P.M. p. 8, P.M. Society of Antiquaries..... Eight, P.M. Royal Institution . p. 8, P.M. Westminster Medical Society..Eight, P.M. FINE ARTS EXHIBITION OF THE SOCIETY OF BRITISH YESTERDAY the Society of British Artists opened their fine galleries in Suffolk Street to the friends and patrons of art; it was what is called the private view; and the pleasure received could not be little, for near one thousand works, many of them of high merit, were exhibited. This is perhaps one of the best exhibitions of the Society: and the interest of the scene is not a little heightened by the absence of all works of overwhelming dimensions, and by an agreeable intermixture of portrait and landscape-scenes from fancy and from nature. There is, indeed, an uncommon variety of subjects; there is little of what is commonly called the historical, and, what we wondered at, less portraiture than usual; fewer windmills after life, or cow-houses after nature-an abatement in the amount of stall-fed oxen, and a falling off in the staple commodity of three-acre parks, painted and framed, and called landscapes. But there is an increase in works of fancy and feeling: domestic history and social songs furnish more topics than usual for the pencil; poetic landscape has risen two or three degrees in the scale of excellence-studies from nature, of the heads of children, and groups of rustics abound, while over some of our baronial or ecclesiastical ruins the charm of colour and exquisite drawing is thrown:-on the whole, in purity of conception, and elegance of handling, we think the Society is gradually rising. It would be doing great injustice if we imputed this ascent entirely to the male members of the Society; no one can look along the walls of the galleries without perceiving that to female hands they owe much that is natural in colour, and beautiful in conception-nor do we think that we go too far when we say that some of the fairest works in the exhibition are from the easels of ladies. We shall now proceed, and point out a few of those which we have marked for approbation: and we shall name them according to their numbers, reserving for next week such as we cannot now make room for. 8. 'A Cameronian Sunday Evening;' CHARLES LEES.-This is a natural scene-an old greyheaded man is reading his Bible in the open air, his wife is listening demurely to the woRD, and his daughter's eyes are turned aside, perhaps to watch the coming of a lover, or from the vagrant inattention of the young to matters of such gravity. 13. Ruins, a composition;' ROBERTS.-This artist having excelled all his brethren in the art of exhibiting, in picturesque elegance and truth, the ruins of our Gothic churches and cathedrals, has, in this composition, employed the Roman architecture, and we cannot say with less success. He has endeavoured to embody these lines by Mrs. Hemans There have been bright and glorious pageants here, And reeds and lyres their Dorian melody With incense clouds around the temple blending, And throngs with laurel-boughs before the altar bending. The work of the painter more than embodies these fine lines; he has perhaps filled his scene too full of the golden temples and theatres of antiquity-but this will rather be said than felt. 32. Windsor;' CHILD.-The artist has taken his view of Windsor Castle from the Thames bank; time, an autumnal evening. It is not an easy task to paint up to human recollection, any more than it is to equal expectation: we imagine that the castle on Windsor hill stands nearer the sky than it has been the pleasure of the artist to represent it on canvas; this has little, however, to do with the merits of the work, which are very great-the whole is airy and beautiful, and worthy of being the dwelling of a king. 36. 'Poacher's Confederate;' HANCOCK.-The poacher's confederate is a quick-footed sagacious dog, which, in this little clever picture, has run down a hare, and stands, with its prey held gently in its mouth, waiting the coming of its master. 39. 'Mountain Pass near Sorrento;' WATE. A very pretty picture of a scene which dwells on the memory of every visitor. It is seldom that a true copy of a landscape makes a graceful composition. 52. The Town of Menagio, on the Lake of Como;' HOFLAND.-In this picture the sky is serene, the air soft and balmy, the verdure tender and naturally green, and the lake itself lies unruffled as a mirror, showing the hills and sky: like many of the scenes from those sunny climes, it is more soft than we could wish-we like the grand and the severe. 61. View on the Serchio, near the Baths of Lucca;' P. NASMYTH.-This Italian scene seems to have borrowed something of sterile grandeur from the native mountains of Peter Nasmyth, who painted it; it is coarse and vigorous, and perhaps not less Italian because it wears a rougher exterior than what we are accustomed to see in the landscapes of that country. 66. Study from Nature;' INSKIPP.-All the works of this artist are distinguished by an air of originality, both in conception and colour. He deals, too, with the most simple subjects, rarely giving us more than one small figure at a time, and never laying the burthen upon them of labours difficult to perform, or of sentiments too complicated to express. He seems also to have dipped his brush in the self-same colour with which nature has bepainted her eastern brood, called gipsies; and, moreover, he is far from fastidious in the matter of elegant outline, or the grace of just proportion. The vigorousthe wild originality of the man, is a threefold recompense for all this, and, were we called upon to name the artist most to our liking, in his line, we would name Inskipp. 75. The Lady Chapel, Church of St. Pierre, at Caen;' ROBERTS.-This is another of those picturesque things which show how strong the artist is in all that belongs to architecture. 80. Portraits of Lord Trentham and Lady Caroline Gower, Children of the Earl and Countess Gower; HURLESTONE. This is a charming group, easy and natural, with no put-on looks nor assumed graces: we should have liked it the better had the sashes been more delicately blue, and the dresses less snowy.-130. 'Sons of B. Goad,' is by the same hand, and every way equal in beauty and simplicity: the colouring is more subdued. The only rival of Hurlestone, in expressing the sweetness of youth, is Mrs. Carpenter, of whom we shall speak presently. 115. Baptism in the Days of the Persecution;' G. HARVEY.-There is more variety of character in this picture than in any other work in these galleries. The subject was supplied by Professor Wilson's 'Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life' a work abounding in fine pictures. The Covenanters have sought refuge in one of their wild glens, down which a stream is running: sentinels stand armed at the passes, and enclosing the pastor and his people; while young women in white present infants to be baptized. Old men and matrons gaze in silence and without fear; and the minister, taking water from the brook in his hands, calls on his people to witness the admission of a new member to God's people. The artist has acquitted himself with no little skill in this important task: there is, it is true, something like a monotony of character among the heads; yet, on the whole, the scene is impressive, and continues present to the fancy, in spite of all the glowing cheeks and splendid dresses of more showy, but less substantial works, of which there are not a few around. 121.Study from Nature;' MRS. HAKEWILL. -This study from nature is the head of an acquaintance, raised some twenty degrees in the glass of elegance and beauty, by the poetic mind of the fair artist. It is one of the loveliest faces in the room: the hand which performed this |