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this is venomous. The families of ranunculus or thing that might produce changes in them, and anemone are as beautiful as they are nu- which (like the black colour assumed by mushmerous, they are, however, for the greater part rooms when they are boiling), might indicate their noxious,
noxious qualities, though the criterion of veThe same may be said of the disagreeable nomous mushrooms is not yet sufficiently estasmell of plants, which is taken for a diagnostickblished. of the poisonous quality, and which sign is An easy method is therefore required by equally uncertain with the preceding.
which any individual, not having the least The colour of the laurel is very agreeable, || knowledge of botany, may de:ect venonious while the orache, chenopodium vulraria), an plants in a short time, at a small expence, and minocent and even salutary plant, is of a very manner perfecily decisive. disagreeable smell; the odour of the coriander is The prize is one hundred Dutch ducats, and disagreeable to many persons, yet of a very salu- the precise time, after which no memuir can be tary nature.
admitted to the competition, is the 1st of July, The umbellifluous plants, whiclı grow in damp | 1808. and inundated situations, have the reputation The academy invites the learned of all nations, of being poisonous ; notwithstanding this, the without excluding its honorary members and sium (le berle), and all its species, the rison in- | correspondents, to investigate this ma'ter; there undatum et salsur, the phellandrium aquaticum, are none but those academicians who are called the angelica sylvestris, the aegopodium podagra. to exercise the functions of judges, who it is ria, plants which thrive in marshes, contain no thought ought to be excluded. poison. It is plain, therefore, that neither the The learned who contend for the prize are not pale colour, disagreeable smell, or growth in 10 put their names to their works, but merely a marshy places, can furnish us with certain and sentence, or moto, with sealed notes added to indisputable signs of the presence of venom in them, which will have the same motto outside, plants,
and the author's namé, quality, and place of reThe pretended repugnance of animals to per- || sidence inside. The note of the piece which is nicious plants, is evidently as little infallible; || determined to the prize shall be opened, and the the division of plants made by botanists into rest shall be burnt unopened. classes, orders, and families, according to their The tracts should be written in legible chanature, is not more efficient in recognizing those raclers, either in Russian, French, English, Gerthat are venomous; to be convinced of this we man, or Latin, and must be addressed to the have only to observe, that among the principal permanent secretary of the academy, who shall genus of the night shade, so suspected, is found | deliver to the person appointed by the author, a the potatoe, (colanum tuberasum), and also capsi- receipt marked with the same number and moito cum, (le piment des jardins) which has the virtue which was inscribed on the piece. of exciting and destroying the pernicious principle The successful memoir is to be the property of in the narcotic plants.
the academy; and, without whose formal permisIn consequence of this want of an exterior sion, the author shall not print it. and natural certain sign, by which venomous The rest of the tracts may be received back plants might be immediately detected, it would from the secretary, who will deliver them at St. be desirable to find out some easy method of ex- Petersburgh to any person commissioned by the amiuing them; such for instance as an eudiometre, author to apply for them.
In happier times, how brightly blazed
He dreamt of his house, of his dear native bowers, The hearth with ponderous billets raised,
And pleasure that waited on life's merry mom, How rung the vaulted halls,
While Memory stood sideways, half covered with When smoaked the feast, when care was drown'd,
flowers, When songs and social glee went round,
And restored every rose, but secreted its thora. Where now the ivy crawls.
Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide, 'Tis past! the marcher's princely court,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise; The strength of war, the gay resort,
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, In mouldering silence sleeps ;
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. And c'er the solitary scene, While Nature hangs her garlands green,
The jessainine clainbers in flower o'er the
thatch, Neglected Memury weeps.
And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in The Muse too weeps :-in hallowed hour
the wall; Here sacred Milton own’d her pow'r,
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch, And woke to nobler song;
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. The wizarel's baffled wiles essayed, Here first the pure inajestic maid
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight: Subdued the enraptured ibrong.
His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm
tear; But see! beneath yon shat:ered roof
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite What mouldy cavern, sun-beam proof,
With the lips of the maid whom his boson With mou:h infectious yawas?
holds drar. O! sight of dread! 0! ruthless doom! On that deep dungeon's solid gloom
The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, Nor hope nor daylight dawns.
Joy quickens his pulsamall his hardships seem Yet there, at miduight's sleepless hour,
o'er, While boisterous revels shook the tower,
And a murmur of happiness steals through his Bedewed with damps forlorn,
rest The warrior captive pressed the stones,
“ Oh God! thou hast blest me, I ask for no And lonely breathed unheeded moans,
more." Despairing of the morn.
Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts ou That too is past-unsparing Time,
liis eye? Stern miner of the tower sublime,
Ah! what is that sound which now larums his
ear? Its night of ages broke, Freedom and peace with radiant smile
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the Now carol o'er the dungeon vile
sky! That cumb'rous ruins choak.
'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the
sphere! Proud relic of the mighty dead! Be mine with shuddering awe to tread
He springs from his hammock-he flies to the Thy roofless, weedy hall,
deck; And mark, with Fancy's kindling eye,
Amazement confronts him with images dire, The steel clad ages gliding by
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a Thy feudal pomp recall.
The masts fly in splinters,—the shrouds are on Peace to thy stern heroic age!
fire! No stroke of wild unhallowed rage Assail thy tottering form!
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell, We love, when smiles returning day,
In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to In cloudy distance to survey
save; The remnant of the storm,
Unseen hands.of spirits are ringing his knell,
Oh sailor boy! woe to thy dream of delight ! In slumbers of midnight, the sailor boy lay,
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss, His hammock swang loose at the sport of the Where now is the picture that Fancy touch'd wind,
bright, But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honey'd And visions of happiness danced o'er bis mind.
WRITTEN IN A CHURCH-YARD.
Oh sailor boy! sailor boy! never again
Oh lead me, sweet Sylphs! by your magical Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay;
spells, Unbless'd and unhonoured, down deep in the To wander your heaths and your mountains main
along, Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall Guide my feet where the rill murmurs flow thro' decay.
your dells, No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
And breathe on my ear your wild musical song, Or redeem form or frame from the merciless
Ah! these are the scenes where your presence surge, But the white foam of wave shall thy winding
Thro' the rock-skirted valley your footsteps I And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy || Down the pine-coverd walk, musing pensive, dirge!
alone, On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be I list to the sound of your wings on the gale.
laid, Around thy white bones the red coral shall Oh, deck these lov'd scenes with your choicest grow;
of flowers, Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And teach the clear stream o'er its current to And every part suit to thy mansion below.
mourn; Days, months, years and ages shall circle away,
Bid the songsters of nature enliven these bowers,
And each moss-covered rock their sweet echoes And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern for ever and ayeOh sailor boy ! sailor boy! peace to thy soul! | When the sun streaks the west with his red
Or paints the grey morn with his pencil of gold, LINES,
When the planet of night thro' the dim valley
And the gems of the sky their bright bosoms When Nature starts from Winter's sleep,
unfold. And hails the dawn of genial spring, The breezy fragrance wakes old age,
When the dew drops hang trembling and nature And tunes life's haste discordant string.
is mute, The dappled, jocund morn presents,
Save the beetle's dull horn, or the plaint of In op'ning youth, th' exulting sight;
the rills; Whilst growing day expands the view,
Or when to night's ear Pity's soul-soothing lute, In full-blown blooming manhood's height. Steals in pauses inelodious along the blue bills. As Spring to Summer's ray recedes,
When Spring's jocund season of youth and deSummer to Autumn's mellowing gleam;
light, So thus is youth ingulph'd in age,
When Summer's warm Suns, or when AuAnd backwards seems a baseless dream.
tumn's bower For now no more the fragrant breeze
Are lost in the chaos of Winter and Night, Can life, or health, to these in part;
And the seasons of love and enjoyment are To me 'tis momentary ease,
o'er; Yet, ah! it fails to heal the heart.
Dora. Still, still, oh ye Sylphs, in bright visions attend,
And hover around me when musing I stray;
And when the dark tempests of life o'er me bend, ADDRESS
Pour the radiance of Hope o'er my careTO TNL GUARDIAN SPIRITS OF RURAL RE
Then, calm as the Sun, when the storms cease Ye Spirits, who make these lov'd shades your
to rage, delight,
Reposes his beams on the ocean's clear breast, Ye who hover around when the white bosoma When the fervour of youth is extingui h'd in age, spring,
Bear me safe on your wings to a mansion of Advances, enrob’d in a mantle of light, And distils rosy health from her dew dropping
TO A FRIEND,
In nature's handsome plumage dress'd,
Like rainbow's varied hues;
By an Officer under sentence of Death, for absent.
ing himself from his Regiment. START not, my friend, to trace the well-known
hand, Nor feel your cheek the crimson dye of shame; Still am I worthy of that sacred eye,
Tho' branded with a base deserter's name. Can you forget our vows of early yoush?
Ah, no! I know your generous soul too well; Say, will you brave my dungeon's horrid gloom,
To bid me then one long, one last farewell ? Come, then, the test of love and friendship prove,
Justice demands, with stern relentless pow's, This feeble frame must for my crime atone;
Oh! kindly soothe me in the parting hour. When the deep bell shall warn me it is near,
And my breast heare in a convulsive sigh, Support my fortitude, and cheer my soul,
Bid me remember I should nobly die! 'Tis not the thought of death or silent grave,
Religion bids me all those fears controul; 'Tis scorn and infamy, alas! I dread;
"Tis these that thus distract my sinking soul. The proud contempt that marks each soldier's eye,
The muffled drum and th'ignoble bier;
And o'er my fate not one will shed a tear!
A mark'd example to the worst of men; Some gen'rous few may sigh to hear the tale,
The good shall pity--while the bad condemn.
Destroyer of the reptile class,
Most hurtful to the soil ;
They prov'd his welcome spoil.
A wand'ring cat espies;
Heart"rending shrieks, and cries.
The bloody deed is done;
agony poor Pewet dies,
The cat is fled, and gone.
No more I'll see thee strut;
Stopt by the murd’ring cat.
While guilty victims 'scape;
Tho' in another shape.
The deep and mournful sighs ;
And often where he lies.
LINES TO A YOUNG LADY,
WITH A PRESENT OF A SMELLING BOTTLE.
ON THE DEATH OF A PEWET.
'Twas in the dead of sable night,
Couch'd 'neath an evergreen;
Or glow-worm could be seen.
Increasing mist around;
A melancholy sound.
A thieving murd'rous race,
Resound in every place.
Or clearish glassy rill;
Fair nature hush'd and still.
Whilst thousands round to Folly's temples
If such thy name, accept then from a friend,
A hapless bird in sweet repose,
(Apparently secure,) Had crept beneach the spreading boughs
To 'scape the chilling air,
PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS FOR SEPTEMBER.
Therese. Ursule is fond of scandal and discord;
she thinks herself a wit, and it is easy to fancy MAIDS TO BE MARRIED).
that other people have the same tastes as our
selves. [Continued froin Page 110.]
Pauline. The truth of this we have proved Act II. Scene I -AGATHE, PAULINE, THE- | to-day, Therese; you are right to refresh out RESE, LEDOUX, and CORSIGNAC.
Therese. First you, Mr. Ledoux, try to lead Therese. I told you how it was; the blow came from Ursule.
back to us Mr. Sainville, as you have been led Corrignac (to Pauline). Do not let me suffer || by Mr. Corsignac, for the offence of your friend.
Ledoux. Only give me the power to act, and
I'll work wonders. I am naturally cunning and Pauline. You are forgiven. Ledoux (to Aguthe). Do not compel me to
wily, and will tell hin What shall I tell
Mr. Sainville? run away a third time.
Therese. That it is very wrong in him to have Agathe. You may stay.
thus fursaken an old friend, and that he ought to Pauline. How wicked if Ursule make my sister
have excused my father's iinpetuosity. put on her riding dress.
Corsignac. Stay; I have the whole plan in my Agathe. And to incite Pauline to put a ro
head, and will direct its execution. But Ursule mance in her ridicule.
is cunning as well as Mr. Ledoux. She will susCorsignac. And to made such a mixture of truth and falsehood, so as to compromise my
pect both you and me. She is fund of scandal, innocence.
and consequently curious.
Therese. She is. Therese. You will find that she has told some
Agathe. How often we have surprised her other story to Louise. Agathe. But how came she not to fear lest | listening to our conversation, and waiching our
actions. we should reveal to each other the bad advice she gave us ?
Corsignac. Oh! she is in the habit of listening! Therese. What does she care for this, now she
excellent! The whole now is to get her back has bred a quarrel between my father and Sain
here with Sainville; and this I will attempt ville?
to perform, assisted by the abilities of Mr. Le
doux. Pauline. I have been told that Mr. Sainville has been seen going to visit Ursule's mother.
Ledoux. Thank you for the honour you confer Therese. You see, she draws him into her net.
upon me, by choosing me for your ally in this im
portant negociation. Let us lose no time.-I Agathe. God knows with what colour she will adorn our portraits.
go- hasten.-(To Agathe.) Too happy if I could
but obtain your approbation. Therese. The first condition she will impose upon him will be, never to see us again.
Corsignac. Let us lose no time, as you righly Corsignac. And my poor friend is so easily led. said; follow me. Therese. Don't affect sorrow; you are happy.
[Exeunt Corsignac and Ledoux. I, therefore, will give you little credit for your | Corsignac means :o do. But, where is my fa.
Therese. I do not know exactly what this Mr. demonstrations of grief. It is my sister alone,
ther? my good Louise, whom I pity-and if I could,
Pauline. Gone to scold his workmen. would assist. But stay-Oh! I have it! She deceived us with false representations and perfi
Therese. No doubt of it; for when he is in a dious counsels, let us make use of the same
passion, every one must seel its effects. weapon.
Agathe. Hush! Here he is. Corsignac. I understand you; you may rely
Enter JAQUEMIN. upon me.
Ledoux. As for me, I cannot boast that I do; Jaquemin. Here you are all at last. but will always be ready to help you.
Agathe (to Pauline). Is his anger gone? No, XXII. Vol. III.