Which scented all the air; whose blossoms gay Were rife with birds, and musical with bees; And danced in beauty in the seaward breeze; While o'er the grove ascended Elvar Tower, A mark by land, a beacon on the seasWith fruit trees crowned, and gardens hung in flower, Dropt round with fairy knolls and many an elfin bower.

But though all we have quoted is beautiful, we do not consider it as characteristic of the poem. The Maid of Elvar' is essentially Scotch-purely pastoral-full of home scenes of humble life, brought as vividly before the reader as in the substantial realities of a picture; and it is rich in those natural, dramatic transitions-those simple touches of pathos and humour-which, if it may be permitted to us southerns to offer an opinion, has been the distinguishing peculiarity of the national poetry of Scotland, from the Gaberlunzie Man and the Jolly Beggar to the Gentle Shepherd and the glorious works of Robert Burns. These scenes, however, are so natural-the manners of the people so simple-that it is possible our readers may prefer what they have read to what we shall now extract; yet what a reality is there about the Sabbath morning -the church-evening prayers-the harvest home. Here is the dance:

A brimming cup young Eustace brings, The crouder takes it-drains it to a dropA new soul now seems sounding in the string; Each heart leaps light as starts the music up; The rooftree trembles with its grassy cope, From hole and crevice mice in wonder peep; The hoary bandsmen nod each bonnet top, Dance with their knees and regular measure keep, Adown their ancient cheeks the drops of gladness dreep.

Now Eustace leads the fair young Sybil outHer feet beat witchcraft as she heads the dance; Lads, like a garland, hem her round about, While love rains on them from her dark eye glance: The maidens near her, tittering, take their stance, And on her swan-white neck and snowy arms, Her small and nimble feet, they look askance; The hoary fiddler, as he listens, warms, And draws a lustier bow, and gazes on her charms. But when the music's full infection stole Throughout her frame, and kindled up her veins, She shook her curls, and through her eyes her soul Sent such a shower of rapture, all the swains Stood gaping as the parched flower when it rains. She sailed along, and, like a sorceress, flung Her own sweet spirit o'er the crouder's strains; Her feet had language, such as hath been sung, That spoke to every heart as plain as with a tongue.

All eyes were sparkling and all hearts were light, Waved many a hand and bounded many a foot; Old men of past and youths of present might Smiled gladsome, and with whisper, smack, and shout,

Through reels in dozens swept the dames about; The barn-roof wagged to its remotest raft: Light, mirth and music gushed in gladness out, Far o'er the lea: old men looked on and laugh'd, Cried, weel done Jock and Jean, then deep of brown ale quaff 'd.

We shall leave the supper untouched, for we have no relish either for “damasked haggis,' "a singed sheep's head," or "bracksha, best of food," although we can play a most musical knife and fork upon occasions; and the worthy people themselves fall to with an irreverence that has promise in it :

Amid the grace the haggis on the platter
Raised such a steam, the douce laird of Drumbreg
Could not endure't-his month was in a water.
"Ha'done, ha'done," he said, a jocteleg

He snatched, and cut: far gushing o'er the peg There came a reeking deluge, rich and savoury. "Take this now, Marion-and take that now, Meg; This is a food unknown in lands of slavery." Dames smiled, but dreading drops, quick gathered in their bravery.

Living in a "land of slavery," we read of these free-born suppers with an abasing wonderment. This "bracksha," with us, rivals in mystery the black broth of the Spartansit is a charmed thing-a mystery Scotchmen are sworn never to reveal. Of the two hun

66

dred and odd thousands that have kindly come here to take charge of us, for our "goods"-and "chattels," not one could we ever prevail on to give us the least insight into the real nature of this "best of food." We had hopes, indeed, from the open generous nature of the Ettrick Shepherd, and congratulated ourselves, when we first heard that he had left the capital of his country for this capital of his countrymen; and accordingly, after due libation of whisky-toddy, we once ventured to bring round the conversation to this interesting subject: but, no sooner was "bracksha" mentioned, than such "a stour of tongues" bewildered us-there was such a volley of superlatives poured out from every Scotchman's mouth-that, for any information we got, this "best of food," may be a collop from a dead hog, or dog, or mountain sheep, or shepherd.

But instead of digressing, we must think of bringing this article to a close. One other scene, however, we shall transfer-a scene that would have been characteristic of England when it was "merry England,"--and that, we fear, is hardly characteristic of Scotland now,-a scene of innocent mirth and revelry, lit up, not, indeed, with "antique masque and pageantry," but the "jig" of

our ancestors :

There is no want of gladness and great mirth;
The harper with a merrier hand the strings
Sweeps, and the pride of blood and lordly birth
Is slumbering with all other slumbering things.
Loud joy hath lost its feet and found its wings;
Where Lady Sybil dances in the hall

The old men gaze, young men lean round in rings;
The portraits of her lineage on the wall
Seem touched with sudden life, rejoicing one and all.

And she hath called to mind an Interlude

Or rustic play, where Waste makes war on Thrift. Forth to the floor there steps a peasant shrewd, Who of each national drollery knows the drift. With lighted torch he sings and dances swift; Soon by his side a maiden o'er the floor

Moves grave, and scarce her foot at first can lift; She bears a distaff in her hand, and sure Draws out the thrifty thread, and sings a song demure.

Thrift dances as she sings, and all her strain
Is of domestic gladness, fire-side bliss,
And household rule; nor thought loose, light or vain,
Stains her pure vision of meek happiness;
Religion's comforts, wedlock's holy kiss,
The white web bleached by maiden's whiter hand,
The lisping children in their home-spun dress,
The wealth which gathers 'neath Thritt's magic wand,
The fame of a chaste life amid a virtuous land.

Waste danced, and sang a free strain and a light;
Of young Joy's foot which gaily out can measure
Life's weary way; of Love, whose fingers white
Strew all youth's way with fresh flowers plucked
from pleasure ;

And Laughter loud, who never yet found leisure
To pause and think; and Merriment, who coins
The tears of sadness into current treasure;
And Wantonness, his hot lips moist with wines,
And Pleasure ever gay, with loose ungirded loins.
They danced with many an antique touch and turn,
And like wild levin flashed and flew about;
Waste with his torch strove aye the roke to burn,
While Thrift, as nimble as the starting trout,
When slacks the sharp shower and the sun shines out,
Turned, wheeled, and flew-and there rose such a

This was at a peasant festival at Elvar Castle, and see the thronging hundreds :

The summer flowers with bees Ne'er swarmed more populous than the lonesome glen ;

The swelling hillocks and the lofty trees Are covered less with grass and leaves than men ; For one staid dame I wot are damsels ten, With gladsome eyes, white hands, and sunny brows; The brook clear shadows all their shapes agen; Pure as it runs its tranquil course, it glows With eyes like new-found stars, and cheeks like odorous

rose.

And see the separation of the assembled multitude:

Now the whole multitude dissolved like snow.
Each separate glen received its people back,
The murmuring brooks, which from the uplands flow,
Showed in their streams their children's shadows
black:

Along the moorlands' brown sheep-trodden track,
Maiden and swain hath homeward made them boune.

With talk like this all weariness they wiled Away, and stole some long miles from the road; Lads spoke, maids listened, and, approving, smiledAll that was lovely seemed to be abroad: Dews lay like diamonds showered on every sod; Rills murmured music, torrents rushed less rude: The sky above was brightness-brighter glowed The arched heaven, where mirrored in the flood Lay mingled all her stars, with mountain, tower, and wood.

But down an eerie and a rugged way

Rode Ralph Latoun; through Ruthwell's pine-trees dark

He spurred: the desolate bat and owlet gray Skimmed round; he heard the stealthy weasel's chark;

The lonely glow worm kindled up its spark;
Starr flashed and darted wildly through the night-

But we must have done. The parts we least like, are the supernatural:-Sir Goblin, and the Spectre Bark. To the Faeries we presume not to object, because they are in agreement with the belief of the people, and as certainly made a part of the rustic creed in Scotland, as witches in our own; the cottage tale recording that they left the country only when agriculture had poisoned the ground, and machinery the streams-but we have no sympathies with these worn-out superstitions.

The volume is beautifully got up, and graced with a sweet vignette of the Piping Shepherd-boy, designed by Wilkie and engraved by Burnet.

Klosterheim; or, the Masque. By the English Opium-Eater. 1832. Edinburgh, Blackwood; Cadell, London.

THE wayward fancy and peculiar feeling which made the Confessions of an English Opium-Eater' a story of such enchaining interest as amounted almost to a spell, have not come in their full strength to the aid of the author in his new tale of 'Klosterheim, or the Masque.' We have long been of opinion that the chief charm of the 'Confessions' lay in our belief that the narrative was all true, or that at least it owed its existence less to imagination, speculating on the probable effects of opium, than to the melancholy trial which the author himself had, in an evil hour, made. Whatever powers of creation may reside in the mind of De Quincey, it is plain that the present work must owe its attractions to something else than to splendour of imagination, for there is little of that sort of mastery visible here; and, what is also to be regretted, we have little of what can be called fresh and original in human character. Nevertheless, we have much beautiful writing-we have page following page impressed with that fascinating elegance of style which marked the author's earlier works: we have no want of scenes touching and impressive; and everywhere we see an intimate acquaintance with the leading events and results of the thirty years' war which desolated Germany. Schiller's History, and Wallenstein's Camp,' have made us all acquainted with the character of those eventful times, which peopled Germany with warriors of all nations, and of almost all religions. Knowing this, at least, we

opened the book with the hope of meeting | one or more of our own distinguished countrymen-some of those seven thousand Scots, or three thousand English, whose bravery, and enthusiasm, and devotion, are still remembered by the Protestants of the whole north of Europe. The author has, however, contented himself with materials purely foreign, and raised with them a sort of dark superstructure, which he probably believes unites the picturesque of the German with the science of the English.

The Masque' is the story of a German Prince, whose father was murdered, and his patrimony usurped by a neighbouring chief, during the days when Gustavus conquered, and Tillie and Picclomini fought; on the death of those leaders, and when the fortunes of Sweden began to decline, the young disinherited prince appeared, first, as a student in his native place, and gained the regard of his countrymen, and next, as a man in a mask, to the horror of the Usurper, who imagined that he beheld in this mysterious being the spirit of the prince whom he had murdered. We cannot, however, give anything like the outline of a story so sinuous as this we have plots of all complexions; secret meetings; midnight musterings; wanderings above ground and below; tapestried chambers; concealed doors; ready dags and daggers; dark lanterns; sealed packets; martial-law; robber-law; resolutions suddenly formed, and as quickly abandoned; a hero who escapes being murdered because the assassin mistook him for a ghost; a heroine who only escapes death by being murdered by proxy;-in short, we have a succession of love-makings, assassinations, and masquerades, till the fated day arrives, which hurls the usurper from his seat, and restores and marries the rightful heir. We can afford room only for the appearance of the masked Prince in the presence of the Usurper.

"There stands he that governs Klosterheim by night!' thought every cavalier, as he endeavoured to pierce the gloomy being's concealment, with penetrating eyes, or by scrutiny, ten times repeated, to unmasque the dismal secrets which lurked beneath his disguise. There stands the gloomy murderer!' thought another. There stands the poor detected criminal,' thought the pitying young ladies, who in the next moment must lay bare his breast to the Landgrave's musketeers.'

"The figure meantime stood tranquil and collected, apparently not in the least disturbed by the consciousness of his situation, or the breathless suspense of more than a thousand

spectators of rank and eminent station, all bending their looks upon himself. He had been leaning against a marble column, as if wrapped up in reverie, and careless of everything about him. But when the dead silence announced that the ceremony was closed, that he only remained to answer for himself, and upon palpable proof-evidence not to be gainsayed-incapable of answering satisfactorily; when, in fact, it was beyond dispute that here was at length revealed, in bodily presence, before the eyes of those whom he had so long haunted with terrors, The Masque of Klosterheim,—it was naturally expected that now at least he would show alarm and trepidation; that he would prepare for defence, or address himself to instant flight.

"Far otherwise!-cooler than any one person beside in the saloon, he stood, like the marble column against which he had been reclining,

upright-massy-and imperturbable. He was enveloped in a voluminous mantle, which at this moment, with a leisurely motion, he suffered to fall at his feet, and displayed a figure in which the grace of an Antinous met with the columnar strength of a Grecian Hercules,-presenting, in Jupiter. He stood-a breathing statue of glaits tout ensemble, the majestic proportions of a diatorial beauty, towering above all who were near him, and eclipsing the noblest specimens of the human form which the martial assembly presented. A buzz of admiration arose, which in the following moment was suspended by the dubious recollections investing his past appearances, and the terror which waited even on his present movements. He was armed to the teeth; and he was obviously preparing to move.

"Not a word had yet been spoken; so tumultuous was the succession of surprises, so mixed and conflicting the feelings, so intense the anxiety. The arrangement of the groupes was this: at the lower half of the room, but starting forward in attitudes of admiration or suspense, were the ladies of Klosterheim. At the upper end, in the centre, one hand raised to bespeak attention, was The Masque of Klosterheim. To his left, and a little behind him, with a subtle Venetian countenance, one hand waving

back half a file of musketeers, and the other

Tales of the North-west; or, Sketches of Indian Life and Character. By a Resident beyond the Frontier. Boston, Hilliard & Co.; London, Kennett.

THE ends of the earth are, in these latter effected an entire revolution in all our ideas days, met together. Half a century has of time and space; and the editor, who now sits down, in the heart of London, to minister to the public intelligence, through the channel of a weekly publication, should have a range of vision supplied by all the resources of some spiritual Dollond, and a wing like the "tricksy" Ariel's, able to "put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes." The fabled glass of Pythagoras, by which he was enabled, through the medium of the moon, to communicate with lands the most remote, has been almost realized, in its spirit, by the power of modern invention; and the public expect to find on the "disk" of any periodical, setting itself up to be a luminary to them, something like a faithful reflection of the achievements of intellect, throughout the whole circle of its domains, without any regard to obstacles of mere mensuration. They can hear now, without any expression of surprise, and without setting him down as, therefore, a conjuror, that the same sage appeared, at one and the same time, in the distant cities of Crotona and Metapontum ; -and refuse to be any longer put off, even

"Surrender!' was the first word by which silence was broken; it came from the Landgrave.

"Or die!' exclaimed Adorni.

"He dies in any case,' rejoined the Prince. "The Masque still raised his hand with the action of one who bespeaks attention. Adorni he deigned not to notice. Slightly inclining his head to the Landgrave, in a tone to which it might be the head-dress of elaborate steel-work that gave a sepulchral tone, he replied,

"The Masque, who rules in Klosterheim by night, surrenders not. He can die. But first he will complete the ceremony of the night, he will reveal himself.'

"That is superfluous,' exclaimed Adorni; 'we need no further revelations.-Seize him,

and lead him out to death!

'Dog of an Italian!' replied The Masque, drawing a dag+ from his belt, die first yourself! And so saying, he slowly turned and levelled the barrel at Adorni, who fled with two bounds to the soldiers in the rear. Then, withdrawing the weapon hastily, he added, in a tone of cool contempt, 'Or bridle that coward's tongue.'

We wish our gifted author would abandon Germany for ever and aye, and set up the standard of his genius once more on English ground. He is strong at home and weak in a foreign land. What has he made of his long-promised romance of 'The Page, a Tale of Marston Moor'? Let him hang the garlands of his genius on legends of his native

land.

+ A sort of pistol or carbine.

cuse, so long suffered to pass current, that a man cannot be in two places at once, barring he was a bird." They know better; and will not accept of intelligence from one place, as any apology for the absence of news from its antipodes. Our readers cannot have failed to observe, that we have, for our own parts, eschewed all such subterfuges; and, that the Athenæum is, in the literary sphere, what the moon was anciently to Pythagoras, a medium for the inter-communication of mind between all the points of its circumference. Seriously, we have been enabled, while we kept our subscribers au courant du jour, in all matters connected with intellectual exertion at home, to afford them many glimpses of the literary and scientific proceedings of the rest of the world. France and Germany have yielded up their treasures to us, pleasant and welcome. From America, we have gleaned something, and have yet more housed than we can display-and, not long since, we introduced our readers to the first-born of invention in Van Diemen's Land. The tales before us, are of no very high pretension as tales. They are of very slight construction, and somewhat monotonous, as all unembellished pictures of savage life (where the modes of thought and action are few and primitive) must be, after the novelty of our introduction to those modes is exhausted. Notwithstanding that they deal in wholesale murder, to an extent which would be a fault if it were anything but a truth, their interest is not highly wrought, nor their excitement anything like intense. But, they are wholly free from that picturesque exaggeration with which the subject of aboriginal character in America has been invested; and which, in the hands of genius, has given a charm to the subject, not resident in itself, and fatal to the truth of the portraiture. The author states, that he has derived his knowledge of Iadian habits and feelings from

personal observation;-"not such as may be made while travelling through the Indian country at the rate of a hundred miles per diem; and still less the knowledge that may be acquired by a residence near the degraded race, that a constant intercourse with the frontier settlers has made miserable." It has been impossible not to perceive, in the many pictures of savage life, (from those of Chateaubriand to Cooper,) with which the press of both continents has furnished us, for some years back, that the traits were chosen for dramatic effect, the qualities elevated to the dramatic tone, and all the characters made, like those of old Greek tragedy, to wear the dramatic mask ;-that, in fact, the aborigines were put into attitudes, and made to speak in language, which were too constrained and artificial to represent the modes of ordinary life, anywhere under the sun,though they might be true enough as occasional records of excited passion or formal exhibition. The sense of the ideal and imaginative, was gratified by such works; although the sense of the natural and probable, was no more satisfied, than if we had been assured that the natives chose, at all times, to put themselves to the great inconvenience of walking upon stilts. It would be impossible, in such case, not to feel that, although they might delight in the occasional, or even frequent, displaying of such dignified feats, there would be times (such as those of weariness or danger) in which they must act upon the impulses of an undistorted nature, and condescend to the extemporaneous and unincumbered use of the faculties which God had given them. Our author's remarks on this subject are so sensible, that we cannot do better than transcribe them. He says,

"If the works above alluded to may be considered a criterion, it seems to be the commonly received opinion, that the aborigines are all heroes; that they are all insensible of fear, and strangers to weakness. It would appear that their strongest passions are hourly called into exercise; that their lips never part but to give utterance to a sentiment, and that glory and honour are to them all, as the breath of their nostrils. Is this their true character? No; the author's experience teaches him that they are neither more nor less than barbarous, ignorant men. Their passions, when excited, are more furious than ours, because unrestrained by principle; and explode with more violence because they are instructed from early childhood to repress and conceal, till it may be safe to indulge them. There are wise and good men among Indians, but they are few and far apart, as in civilized nations, and about in the same proportion to their numbers.

"They have as many of the vices and follies of human nature as other people, and it is believed, no more. An Indian may be dishonest as well as a white, and is about as likely to forgive an injury; if it be not such, as, according to the customs of his tribe, must be expiated with blood. The heart of man beats neither slower nor faster under a blanket than beneath a coat and waistcoat.

"The key to much that appears strange in the character of the aborigines may be found in one word-inconsistency. No certain judgment can be formed of an Indian's future conduct, by the past. His behaviour in all probability will not be the same in the same circumstances. He is the child of nature, and her caprice will dictate his course. Thus he may steal from his neighbour one day, and return him fourfold the

next.

When suddenly attacked he may fly;

yet when he has made up his mind to fight, no one shows more courage. He has no laws, but he has customs which have the force of laws; yet sometimes interest, or the instinct of selfpreservation, prevails over pride and shame,

and he evades their observance.

in the language of poetry on all occasions. It Another error is, that he is supposed to speak is thought he

cannot ope

His mouth, but out there flies a trope. In consequence, those writers who introduce our savages into their works make their discourse a farrago of metaphor and absurdity. This folly had its origin in speeches delivered in councils. Such effusions are not extemporary, but studied efforts, in which the speaker purposely obscures his meaning with parables and verbiage, often not understood by his brethren, and not always by himself. The author has frequently seen the half breed interpreters completely at a loss; unable to comprehend their mother tongue thus garbled. By a very natural mistake, these orations are taken for specimens of ordinary Indian discourse; a most lame and impotent conclusion. In truth, nothing is more flat and common-place than their common conversation. They speak with as little circumlocution, and as directly to the point as any people. Some figurative idioms may indeed be found in their several tongues, as the matter short, if any man were to address an Indian in such language as is put into his mouth by the novelists, he may as well speak Hebrew." p. v-viii.

well as in those of civilized nations; but to cut

When we say that these tales are an illustration of the above reasonable and clever observations, and are, we suspect, valuable, as furnishing plain and just views of Indian manners, we have no doubt our readers will think it worth their while to turn to the volume. We had intended here to have extracted for their entertainment, an AmericoIndian love-tale, which, (besides exhibiting a dandy of the Western Forest,) displays the passions brought into action, and the manner of their action; but we find it too intimately interwoven to admit of judicious abridgment, and too long for extract: we must therefore confine ourselves to a short anecdote, gathered from the adventures of a certain Pinchon, whom the author describes as a sort of Canadian Rob Roy, but who appears to have been, at all events, a very distinguished and adventurous scoundrel:

"One more of his exploits, for its almost incredible temerity, we shall relate, and then make an end of our story. When his boat arrived at the portage of the Wisconsin, on his return to the Sioux country, it was necessary to dry a part of the cargo, which had been wet by a shower, the night preceding. The canvass mentioned in a former sketch, as used to cover Macinac boats, was spread upon the ground to dry. While he and his men were engaged in eating, an enormous rattle-snake crept out of the grass, and stretched himself in the sun upon the canvass; thinking, it is probable, that it was placed there for his reception. It is well known that this reptile is a generous enemy, never doing any injury unless molested, nor then, without giving warning. When Pinchon and his comrade returned, they perceived the individual in question.

"Le Duc seized a stick to kill it, but Pinchon held his arm, while the serpent regarded them with the utmost indifference. Joe Le Duc,'

666

Despardieux! no! I will fight the Indians with you, as long and as often as you please, but I will not fight such an enemy as that.'

"Well, then, it shall never be said that I feared man or beast. If you will not catch him, I will.'

"Disregarding all remonstrance, the desperado laid himself down within a few feet of the reptile. He moved his hand towards him as slowly as the hand of a clock, while the snake raised his head, and looked him steadily in the eye, without offering to strike. When he had advanced his fingers within six inches of the serpent, he snatched it up by the neck, as quick as thought, and sprung upon his feet, holding it out at arm's length! The reptile, after a few revolutions of its tail, fixed it firmly round the man's neck, and began to contract his body. Though one of the strongest of men, he felt his arm bend, in spite of all the force of his muscles. Still his iron nerves remained firm. He grasped his right wrist with his left hand, and resisted with all his might; but the snake was too strong for him; when, at last, he saw its white fangs within six inches of his face, his courage gave way, and he cried to Le Duc to come with his knife. The snake was severed in two, and Pinchon cast the part he held from him. The animal had attained the full growth of its species, and had thirty-two rattles." p. 258-259.

Travels in Malta and Sicily, with Sketches of Gibraltar, in 1827. By Andrew Bigelow.

[Second Notice.]

In our extracts we shall avoid those subjects which, like Mount Etna, have been described till the description wearies, and select some topics which are less hacknied, and will be more amusing to our readers.

The following account of the fortifications on (and in) the rock of Gibraltar, is very interesting

:

"The first object of peculiar interest which meets us is an old Moorish tower. It seems to stand as a war-worn sentinel, to the dark and fearful passages in the mountain-bosom, which stretch beyond. By whom the tower was erected is not ascertained. It probably is a monument of the first successful descent of the Moors, in 711.

Taking up the line of march, we enter a subterranean path leading under the wall of the garrison, and soon come to the first passage within the solid crust of the rock. It is a vaulted horizontal shaft, of one hundred and fifty feet in length. We emerge from it to enter another called Wyllis' Gallery. The length of this is something more than a hundred yards, and its breadth from three to five. It is dimly lighted through the embrasures for cannon; and what with this dubious sort of day and the nature of the objects displayed around,-heavy ordnance reposing on iron frames, piles of balls, bombs, and other terrible missiles, and doors communicating ever and anon with inner chambers filled with warlike stores,-the feelings excited by the survey are anything but cheerful.

"Mounting still higher, we come to a longer and more extraordinary excavation, called the Windsor Gallery. It extends very nearly a tenth of a mile; and, like the former, has been entirely blasted by powder. Enough of the rock on the outer side remains to serve as a parapet, or shield, impervious to ball, even could cannon be brought to bear against it. But its elevation places it above the reach of the longest

shot; so that those who serve its guns in times of siege, are perfectly secure from the reach of assailants. They have only to pour down upon the defenceless heads of invaders showers of grape and shells.

"Besides these passages, there are several other galleries lined with artillery, and wrought with extraordinary toil within the outer shell of the massive rock. Staircases occasionally occur, hewn with great regularity; also flues and perpendicular shafts for ventilation and other purposes. Of the magazines, there seems no end. "There are two or three spacious and lofty apartments, which altogether in boldness of design, and beauty of finish, perhaps, surpass the other wonders of these interior constructions. The most remarkable of these is called Saint George's Hall. It is a stupendous excavation from the heart of a turreted crag, which juts naturally from the surface of the mountain. Externally, it has much the appearance of an artificial tower. Within, an apartment forty yards in circuit, and proportionably lofty, has been hewn with incredible labour. The rock forming the walls and flooring has been perfectly smoothed. But half a dozen yawning port-holes, and a circular funnel leading through the roof for the escape of smoke, sufficiently indicate that other purposes than those of mere beauty were consulted in this curious structure. cannon of tremendous calibre (sixty-four pounders,) are stationed here, ready to discharge their thunders on any daring besieger by land or flood. They are so nicely poised as to be capable, with a little exertion, of being pointed in any direction.

Six

"Some idea of the extent of the excavations may be formed from the fact, that they are sufficient to receive at once the entire garrison of Gibraltar; and the troops composing it are never less than five thousand. Not only in the galleries would the latter be completely covered from an enemy's fire, but also in passing along the few open paths edging the surface of the rock, and which communicate between one subterranean post and another. For these paths are all guarded by high parapets of solid masonry, so that even the movements of the soldiery along them, or the carriage of their munitions, could not be perceived by assailants at the foot of the rock." 44-5.

Aqueduct at La Valetta.

"We came in sight of the noble aqueduct which supplies La Valetta. The route lay along it for several miles, and I had an opportunity of surveying and admiring that most useful construction. I have omitted to observe that though the houses of the city and suburbs are all provided with private cisterns,-every drop of rain-water being carefully preserved by means of pipes, conducting from the terraced roofs to the proper reservoirs,-yet the supply of water was found by no means adequate to the wants of a large and increasing population. Much inconvenience, and at times actual suffering, was the consequence. To provide against such scarcity, Vignacourt, a grand master of great public spirit and munificence, commenced, in an early period of his administration, the aqueduct just alluded to, and finished it, entirely at his private cost, in 1616. By this conveyance an unfailing supply of salubrious water is brought from a central spot of the island called Diar Chandal, over a line of many thousand noble arches extending not less than thirteen miles, and terminating in a grand reservoir in palace-square. Conduits are thence made to take the fountain water into all the public and private tanks of the city. The work being partially decayed, the grand master Roahn undertook its repair about the year 1780; and the whole now displays perfect solidity. Such a costly structure shows the riches which must

have flowed into the private coffers of the Grand Masters of the order of St. John." p. 120.

Archimedes.

"The memory of Archimedes appears to be universally venerated at Syracuse. From him, he seems to have belonged to an age as the familiar but respectful mention made of

recent as that of Franklin; and one is almost tempted in meeting with an aged Syracusan to ask if he did not remember seeing the philosopher in his youth. At any rate, the impression left by his name here is more vivid, apparently, than that associated by us with Franklin. The walls of the conversazioni room are covered with pictures of his mechanical exploits. One is very spirited, and represents his lifting, with his famous levers and grapples, the galleys of Marcellus from the water, and then sinking, or dashing them against the rocks.

"The road winding up a gentle slope at length intersected another, called the Street of Sepulchres, from its leading in a narrow defile between

hills faced on either side with ancient tombs. Near the entrance of this passage, and about one hundred yards from the spot traditionally remembered as the place of the Agragian Gate, stands the tomb of Archimedes. The locality agrees very well with the description given of it by Cicero. The ancients were in the habit of burying their dead without the walls of their cities; and the sepulchres of Syracuse came up to its very gates on this quarter. There is,' says the Roman orator, 'close by the Agragian port, a vast number of tombs. Examining them with care, I perceived a monument a little elevated above a thicket, whereon was inscribed the figure of a cylinder and sphere. Immediately I said to the Syracusan nobles who attended me, That this must be the tomb of which I was in search.'

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"We alighted to take a nearer view of it. In front, is a narrow strip of cultivated, unfenced ground; and just at the entrance a few brambles and rank weeds were growing. The tomb is excavated from a native bed of rock, the face of which, naturally projecting, is shaped about the opening into a rude Doric front, with pilasters and a pediment. No traces of the inscription are visible, nor is this to be wondered at, for even in the time of Cicero, the characters were partially worn away. The entrance of the tomb is sufficiently high to allow a person of full stature to walk in without stooping. The interior is of moderate dimensions. It is truly the dark and narrow house.' In a recess on the right, large enough to receive a modern lead coffin, the remains of the philosopher are supposed to have been laid; but the sarcophagus, if any there were, has long since disappeared. On the opposite side are full-length receptacles for bodies; and fronting the entrance there are smaller depositories, cut like the others from the solid rock, and adapted for urns, or the coffins of children. The tomb appears to have been the family sepulchre of Archimedes; but the ashes of the human forms, which once filled its niches, have for ages been dispersed to the four winds.

"The hill, at the foot of which this tomb has been opened, is a vast ledge of rock slightly covered with shrubs and grass. Following the path at its base, I perceived a great many other tombs yawning from its sides, the 'magna frequentia sepulchrorum,' spoken of by Cicero."

a sort of boulevard, is carried directly over it. The spot is not farther from the sea, in a straight line, than twelve or fourteen yards. The current pours over a rocky ledge into a circular pool, whence it issues by a winding course, tumbling and foaming as it goes, till reaching the seawall, when it leaps headlong into the briny deep. The waters at their source are exceedingly clear and fresh, but they are not permitted to retain their purity even to the end of their short and rapid course. Anciently, it was venerated with divine honours, and a company of nymphs was specially set apart to guard it. Now, it is daily profaned by another set of personages, the common laundresses of Syracuse, who make no scruple to wash their lots' of clothes in its waters.

"It is a curious fact that another copious spring rises from the bottom of the harbour, at some distance from the shore, with so much force that the water retains its freshness almost to the very surface. The position is marked by little eddies and bubbles always distinguishable in calm weather; and even when the harbour is ruffled with winds, the water which is drawn up from a little beneath the surface, and just over the site of the spring, is found sufficiently pure for drinking.

"As the second fountain lies in the direction towards Greece, it has been seriously thought by many to justify the poetical conceit of the ancients, that the river Alpheus, after flowing through Elis in vain pursuit of the coy Arethusa, then disappearing under the sea and continuing his course for five hundred miles, rises in this place to join the fugitive nymph. For it is deemed equally heterodox to dispute the tradition, either that the submarine fountain is the Grecian Alpheus, or that the Syracusan Arethusa is the same with that of Elis. In support of these opinions it is alleged, that leaves and flowers, natives of Greece, have risen on the surface of the Sicilian spring; and that a golden cup, won at the Olympic games, and thrown into the Elian Arethusa, was afterwards brought up by this at Syracuse. Strabo devoted a page to a grave discussion of the philosophy and likelihood of the tale." 294-6.

The Earthquake of 1783 at Messina. "The earthquake of 1783 was fraught with horrors which, even at this distant day, it is shuddering to contemplate. Memorials of its disasters are still visible in different parts of Messina. A portion of the beautiful Marina,—all of which was either shattered or destroyed,-retains the effects, only partially disguised, of that tremendous visitation. There was scarce a structure in the city which was exempt from some injury. The edifices which have since arisen are built more firmly, and generally not so lofty as before; and their beams are made to protrude through the walls to prevent any sudden dislodgement by the violent oscillation of the ground in future shocks. How far the precaution will avail, there has been no opportunity of determining hitherto by conclusive evidence.

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"The earthquake,-I should rather say, the series of earthquakes, of 1783, gave no sign nor prelude of its approach. Stories are told of the domestic animals having had a premonition of the event; and it is affirmed that the howling of dogs in the streets of Messina was so violent that they were ordered to be killed. But it is difficult to comprehend by what sense they could have received an intimation of such an evil impending; and admitting the fact, it is certain that the citizens suspected nothing in the portent. The onset of the earthquake was sudden as the explosion of a mine,-nay, instantaneous as the lightning's flash. It commenced on the 5th of February, and exclusive of the shocks of that day, there were others particularly appalling on the 7th of the same month, and again on

the 28th of March, besides innumerable minor shocks.

"Dreadful as was the catastrophe to Messina, the city was only the first to encounter the brunt of a calamity which was destined to involve a whole province in ruin. The seat of the earthquake was transferred to the opposite shore, and its greatest energies appear to have been concentrated near the centre of Calabria. But the effects were felt far and wide. It rocked the whole breadth of the peninsula, and extended its ravages north and south over a space of ninety miles. Forty thousand inhabitants perished; and the number is almost incredible of the towns, villages, and separate edifices which were shattered, if not totally demolished. Of some not a vestige remained, for the ground opened and swallowed them up. History records no earthquake, which,-taking into view the vehemence and destructiveness of the shocks, the length of their duration, and the vast field of their operations,-may be deemed a full parallel with this. Others there have been,— mighty, desolating, terrific ;-but the earthquake of 1783, in the entire combination of its horrors, stands unexampled." p. 450-2.

Account of New Brunswick, with Advice to Emigrants. By Thomas Baillie, Esq. London, Rivingtons.

Sketch of a Plan for the gradual Extinction of Pauperism. By Rowland Hill. London, Simpkin & Marshall.

Letters from Poor Persons who have emigrated to Canada from the Parish of Frome, in the County of Somerset. London, Longman & Co. ALL writers seem agreed that emigration on a large scale would be beneficial to Britain. Our island is at present too productive in three important things: our machinery produces more goods than we can find a market for-our authors produce more books than readers seem willing to purchase--and our ladies produce more sons and daughters than the country can maintain. For each of these sore evils remedies have been proposed, but nothing satisfactory has yet been settled. As our business is at present with the latter evil-the surplus population-we shall confine our inquiry to that alone; and that of itself has perplexed many clear considerate heads. When bees grow too numerous for their hive to hold, the youthful portion of the community swarm off to a new hive, either near or distant: in like manner that prudent people, the Scotch, pour their swarms of young men to the east, west and south: the Irish follow their example; while the English alone long resolved to adhere in beggary to the soil on which they were produced, and endure all evils rather than forsake their native fields. Education, however, has begun to open the eyes of the lower orders of England: they are making themselves acquainted with the manifold resources of other lands; and for the last two or three years workmen and labourers of all classes have, in vast numbers, emigrated to our possessions in the Canadas, or to New Holland,

In the present distressed condition of the people, it is the duty of the government to encourage emigration to our colonies: they must, however, take care not to encourage away the rich only and the able bodied. We shall see what they are doing by looking at the first work on our list.

When government published this little official tract, we laid out our twopence willingly upon it, and proceeded to read it with attention. "It seems desirable," says his Majesty's Commissioners for Emigration, "to define the nature of the assistance to be expected from government by persons proceeding to these colonies." As this was the very information we wanted, we read on, and were not a little surprised to find the "assistance" set forth in the following manner : "No pecuniary aid will be allowed by government to emigrants to the North American colonies; nor after their arrival will they receive grants of land or gifts of tools, or a supply of provisions. Hopes of all these things have been sometimes held out to emigrants, by speculators in this country desirous of making a profit by their conveyance to North America, and willing for that purpose to delude them with unfounded expectations." Now, any one who reads these words would, in the first place, imagine that government, when they talked of assistance, really desired to do something; and, in the next place, that they had determined to do nothing. This, however, is not the case: "Although government,' observes these benevolent Commissioners, "will not make any gifts at the public expense to emigrants to North America, agents will be maintained at the principal colonial ports, whose duty it will be, without fee or reward, to protect emigrants-to acquaint them with the demand for labour in different districts-to point out the most advantageous routes, and furnish them generally with useful advice." Such are the regulations laid down by our government: a line of colonial finger-posts is established to intimate to the bewildered emigrant, that there is fine fishing on Lake Ontario; prime wild turkies in the wilderness of Erie; capital fresh air on the Huron, and wood and water everywhere. The blundering blindness of all this is quite visible. Our country is not suffering from the presence of the rich, and yet, who but a comparatively opulent person is able, without assistance, to emigrate? The land groans under the pressure of a mendicant population, yet it is quite evident, from what we have quoted, that the government has no intention to relieve us from this crushing load. They tell the poor and the needy, the man half clad, half fed, and nigh half distracted, that the sea is open to convey him upon to the Canadas, and that Messrs. Smith, Payne & Smith, will receive from him a deposit of 201., not less, and give him a cheque for the same on the Bank at Montreal. Why, how, in the name of heaven, can they suppose, that a fellow creature, whose wages for the last two years have not averaged eight shillings a week, has gathered such a sum together, or that a person who could save so much in Old England, would leave it in quest of better fortune? We should almost imagine from this, that the government is about to adopt the sarcastic advice of some of their ill-wishers, and encourage the rich and the fortunate to emigrate, and leave the mother country as a portion to the poor and the destitute.

The 'Emigrant's Guide,' by Mr. Mudie, is evidently the work of one whose personal experience in emigration, has gone no farther than a march from the mountains of the north to the valleys of the south: he sees through the eyes, and speaks from the statements of others; yet his book, though a little too diffuse, contains much valuable information, arranged so as to be accessible to all. He collects facts with care, and discusses all matters connected with removal from England, and the final settlement in North America, with candour and sagacity. His description of a good settler-one who will readily strike root in the land and prosper-is

a most correct one :

"From this it immediately follows that no man is fit for being an independent emigrant, or even existing at all in a new country, who is not both able and willing to work. He must have health, he must have strength, he must have perseverance, and he must have more consideration than is necessary in an old country, where ladepartment marked out for him by the general bour is divided, and every man has his little arrangements of society. He must not only be able to turn his hand to many things, nay, almost to everything that he may require, but he must feel that he is in possession of that power, otherwise he will be in a state of perpetual apprehension, and quite unable to get on. Of course this necessity excludes from the list of emigrants all persons who could not, if they had the proper opportunity, support themselves, and also make some little savings in the old country. The maimed, the mutilated, or the silly, ought not to go there, for as there is no person to give them charity, their only fate would be starvation. The idle and the dissolute, even supposing they possess in a high degree those abilities which they neglect, are, in their present condition, very unfit subjects for emigration; and as those are habits which are reclaimed more by the restraints of society than by any other means, it is doubtful whether they would be benefited by the change, how much soever the mother country might be the better for their absence." 40-1.

Martin Doyle has written his 'Hints on Emigration,' with good sense, good feeling, and with no little knowledge of the subject; and all who desire to emigrate cannot do better than put his little tract in their pockets. As the great question is, who are the persons that should be encouraged to go abroad?-we cannot do better than quote this writer's opinion-he coincides with Mudie:

"To those who are favoured with steady employment at home, who possess allotments of land, however small, which furnish them with comfortable subsistence, I say, 'Be contented -make no experiments-remain where you are-and trust that a kind Providence will bring and discord which distract these realms.' order and peace out of the present confusion

"But to those differently circumstanced, emigration is most desirable, and perhaps no country in the world is more critically suited than North America to the Irish and Scotch poor in particular; the very place of all others where those who have not a shilling in their pockets and who are accustomed to vicissitudes of climate and hard work, can live best; where all those who have been bred to farm and handicraft work, if industrious, healthy, and sober, have a moral certainty of succeeding. All such persons after two years find themselves in a thriving condition, and are anxious to have their old country friends with them; but mere adventurersbroken down tradesmen, and scheming shopkeepers, may just as well stay and starve quietly at home-such persons would not live any where. "Nor is North America suited to ladies and