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"The tidings that came next were from
In the harbour of Bombay;
But he said my brother pined for home,
"Again he wrote a letter long,
"I watch'd and watch'd, but knew not then
For very sick he lay the while
In a hospital in Spain.
Ah, me! I fear my brother dear
"And now I watch-for we have heard
And the letter said, in very truth,
Oh! there's not a bird that singeth now
"That self-same eve I wander'd down
Just as a little boat came in
With people to the land,
And among them was a sailor boy,
Who leap'd upon the sand.
"I knew him by his dark blue eyes,
And by his features fair;
And on the shore he gaily sang
A simple Scottish air,
'There's no place like our own dear Home
To be met with any where!'"
Barry Cornwall, Mrs Hemans, T. K. Hervey, Thomas Pringle, Miss Jewsbury, Mrs Hofland, and Mrs Opie, are also among the contributors.
We have seen only three of the embellishments for the Keepsake, but these three are highly finished and very beautiful. That which we admire most is " Francis the First and his Sister," painted by Bonnington, and engraved by that splendid engraver Charles Heath. We could write a volume upon this plate, but we must bridle in our enthusiasm for a space. In a different style, but very delightful also, is "The Castle Hall" by Leslie, of whichas well as of "Zella" by Corbould, that love-lorn but beautiful damsel alone on the shore of the wild ocean
more anon, for we cannot do them justice at the fag-end
of an article.
Life on Board a Man-of-War; including a Full Account of the Battle of Navarino. By a British Seaman.
Glasgow. Blackie, Fullarton, & Co. WE announced this work last Saturday, and we have now received one-half of it in sheets, but too late in the
week to speak of its merits. It seems, however, to be written in a lively and graphic style, and to contain a number of illustrative sketches of the character, manners, and habits of British tars, who form so peculiar and interesting a class of the community. We shall return to the work as soon as we receive a complete copy of it, and, in the meantime, extract the following
ANECDOTES OF THE BATTLE OF NAVARINO.
"We all stood in silent expectation of the order to 'Fire!" and as we were at this time nearly under the heavy batteries, we expected directly to have a dose of the pills the Turks had been preparing for us these ten or twelve days past. We could observe them leaning over their guns, and pointing with the utmost sang froid to the different ships as they made their appearance. The flag-staff they had on their batteries had no colours mounted, and every thing seemed rather to betoken an amicable feeling. A boat pushed from the shore with a Turkish officer on board, and four men, and made for the Asia, that, by this time, was clear of the guns of the forts, and about a hundred yards a-head of us. The officer, I could see, went aboard of the Asia, but did not stop two minutes. On regaining the shore he threw his turban from him, and ran up to a gateway in the fortress, where there was a crowd of people waiting his arrival. As soon as he made his appearance the red flag waved on the battlements, and at the same moment a signal-gun was fired. The word now flew along the decks, 'Stand to your guns there, fore and aft!'-' All ready, sir,' was the immediate reply, as the captain of each gun stood with the lanyard of the lock in his hand, waiting to hear the word Fire!' This was a period of intense excitement. A dead silence prevailed, and the boldest held his breath. for a time.' All the while we were 'drifting on our path,' and now we were clear of the guns of the batteries, and steering alongside of the Turkish line. The Turks likewise:: were at their guns.
"The boat with the Turkish officer, which I had seen, alongside of the Asia at the time we passed under the forts, was sent to inform the Admiral that the Gover nor had no orders from Ibrahim Pacha to allow the allied. squadrons to enter the harbour. The Admiral's answer was said to be, Tell your master that we come not to re ceive orders, but to give them;' upon which the Turk di-. rectly left the ship, and I have related what passed after the boat touched the shore.
"About the same time, Sir E. Codrington, willing, if possible, to bring things to an amicable arrangement, sent his boat to the Egyptian Admiral's ship, with instructions, that if he did not fire upon any of the allied flags, not a shot should be fired at him. Mr Mitchell, the pilot of the Asia, having reached the ship, delivered his message, and, having a flag of truce, considered himself and the boat's crew as safe; but, as the boat was leaving the ship, Mr Mitchell was shot, while sitting in the stern-sheets of the boat, and dropt into the arms of the man who pulled the stroke oar. One of the men held up the flag as high as he could with. one hand, pointed to it with the other, and demanded the reason of their firing on it. He received no other answer than another volley of small shot, which, however, had no ing it, a most tremendous broadside was poured into the effect. They pulled for the Asia, and, immediately on reachEgyptian Admiral's ship, that made her reel again. The French and Russians had not yet reached their stations, in consequence of the wind having nearly died away; but, seeing the Asia commence the firing, they attacked the forts as they passed them; and, as they proceeded, they engaged the triple line of the enemy on the opposite side of the bay, consisting of their frigates and sloops of war, some of which frigates carried 64 guns.
"Tom and I were just making our way down from the fore top-sail yard, when the enemy's guns opened upon us. Morfiet, grasping my hand, exclaimed, Don't forget Tom Morfiet, M. Farewell!-to your gun! to your gun!' and, so saying, he jumped down on the main deck, where he was quartered, and I made the best of my way to the lower deck, and took my place at the gun. Lieutenant Broke drew his sword, and told us not to fire till ordered. Point your guns sure, men,' said he, and make every shot tellthat's the way to show them British play!' He now threw away his hat on the deck, and told us to give the Turks three cheers, which we did with all our heart. Then crying out, Stand clear of the guns,' he gave the word' FIRE!' and immediately the whole tier of guns was discharged, with terrific effect, into the side of the Turkish Admiral's
ship, that lay abreast of us. After this, it was Fire away, my boys, as hard as you can!' The first man that I saw killed in our vessel was a marine; and it was not till we had received five or six rounds from the enemy. He was close beside me. I had taken the spunge out of his hand, and, on turning round, saw him at my feet, with his head fairly severed from his body, as if it had been done with a knife. My messmate, Lee, drew the corpse out from the tracks of the guns, and hauled it into midships, under the after ladder. The firing continued incessant, accompanied occasionally by loud cheers, which were not drowned even in the roar of the artillery; but, distincter than these, could be
heard the dismal shrieks of the sufferers, that sounded like death-knells in the ear, or like the cry of war-fiends over their carnage.
"The battle at this time was raging with the most relentless fury; vessel after vessel was catching fire; and, when they blew up, they shook our ship to its very kelson. We sustained a most galling fire from the two line-of-battle ships abreast of us, which kept playing upon us till they were totally disabled, by having all their masts shot away, and whole planks tore out of their sides, by the enormous discharge of metal from our guns. We were ordered to only double-shot the guns, but, in this particular, we ventured to disobey orders; for, after the first five or six rounds, I may venture to say, that the gun I was at was regularly charged with two 321b. shot and a 32lb. grape; and sometimes with a canister crammed above all. On being checked by the officer for overcharging, one of the men replied, as he wiped the blood and dirt from his eyes, that he liked to give them a speciment of all our pills. In the lineof-battle ship that was right a-beam of us, there was a great stout fellow of a Turk, in a red flannel shirt, working a gun in the port nearly opposite ours, and, as he was very dexterous, he was doing us a deal of mischief. One of the marines, observing this, levelled his musket, and shot our bulky antagonist through the head, who dropt back, and hung out of the port, head downwards, but was soon pitched overboard by the one that took his place.
"From the effect every shot had on the finely-painted sides of the Moslem vessels, we expected them to strike speedily, and many were the enquiries whether they had "doused the moon and stars yet? but the Turks were resolute, and not one of them struck colours during the engagement. Pelt away, my beauties,' cried the captain of our gun, a young Irish lad, and a capital marksman; if they don't strike, we'll strike for them.""
A Selection from different Authors, on Religious Subjects.
We love sometimes to retire to our own chamber, to commune with our thoughts and be still; and, at such moments, we love to have a book in our hand like that now before us. Its contents are classed under the following heads :—On Afflictions—Absence of Friends—Humility -Confirmation—Evidences of Christianity-Submission and Contentment-Charity and Gentleness-Love of God-Intercession--Happiness-The Sabbath-Enthusiasm and Superstition-Faith. Here we have poor Cowper, breathing his pensive pious thoughts to his amiable cousin, Lady Hesketh; the learned and amiable Mrs Carter; the meek and elegant Miss Bowdler; Dr Beattie; Mrs Trimmer; Hugh Blair; Mrs Hannah More; and a number of others, who enlisted themselves on the side of truth, and devoted their talents to the good of their fellow-creatures, and the welfare of their souls. From the mild spirit which breathes through this volume, we should guess it to be the work of some gentle lady's leisure hours. It is peculiarly fitted for females of a thoughtful cast of mind, and to such we recommend it.
MR MARSHALL'S EXHIBITION, ILLUSTRATIVE OF
THIS is too much. Our self-taught artists, with their representations of low life, are getting rather too nume
rous upon our hands, and some check must be given to their increase a duty which will be best performed by exposing, in the first place, the sources of their popularity.
The number of individuals in this country who have any knowledge of art, or even any sense of its beauties, We do not think that this is to be is very limited. accounted for, either by the greater dulness of our senses, or the grosser medium through which the impressions of external nature are conveyed to them. It was, of course, to be expected, that art should spring up and ripen most rapidly in the more genial climates of Greece and Italy; but the experience of nations in the same latitude with ourselves, and the success of some of our own countrymen, have shown that the plant is hardy enough to flourish even The cause of our less-cultivated taste must be here. sought for in the bias which circumstances have given to The barbarous the developement of the national mind. state of the community, when literature was first introduced at the Reformation,-the constant succession of theological and political discussions since, necessarily tend ed to give an undue preponderance to the growth of those intellectual and imaginative faculties, which embody themselves most fitly in words. This tendency was strengthened and confirmed by the want of works of art, which might, by their very presence, have awakened a love for their excellences, and a wish to produce something of the kind. The consequence has been, that while, in the severer labours of science, we stand rather before than behind the rest of Europe, and while we can boast of orators and poets equal to those of any nation, in all that relates to the Fine Arts we are far behind. We do not speak of the artists which this country has produced, but There is a coldness of the national feeling towards art. --an unsusceptibility to its charms-lingering like a last relic of barbarism, amid all our refinement.
We are aware that this is a wide statement; and we know that, in descending from the imposing annunciation of general principles to the comparative littleness of a specific instance, we immediately lay ourselves open to cavil. We must, however, run the risk, for we should We have to add, otherwise perform only half our task. then, in more direct and specific terms, that the noise made at present about the Fine Arts, although it is a noise made more by the press than by the country at large, only proves how little the subject is understood. It is much talk, and little meaning;—it is the incessant chattering of an ignorant person, serving but to show the extent of his ignorance; it is the sound of a barrel, loud in proportion to its emptiness. Painting and Sculpture address themselves to the mind and heart through the medium of the eye; and, in order to appreciate them aright, we must begin with the education of that organ. All the rules and principles of both arts, no doubt, rest on and proceed from just and refined feeling, being without it but empty words. Just and refined feeling, however, is always connected with sound taste, and is very different from quick and wayward emotion, or mere natural susceptibility. With few exceptions, they who undertake to criticise paintings and statuary, are but little conversant with works of art. They are many of them men of talent, but their notions, when they have any more solid than the vague and transient thoughts awakened in them by contemplating a work of art, are the fruit of reading, not of expe rience and examination. There is a hollowness, there fore, in all they write; and the greater energy with which they express themselves-the more vivacious their fancy, and the more capable they are of adorning their commonplaces,—the more they mislead their readers. When we thus take into consideration the wide-spread ignorance in matters of art, and the insufficiency of those who think to remove it, we shall cease to wonder at the crude and unsatisfactory notions on the subject that are current among us. It is the old parable of the blind leading the blind. These remarks are applicable to the whole island,
but in a more especial manner, we regret to say, to Scotland.
that Thom wanted, and yet he produces, after all, something of the same class. All the objections that can be brought against Thom's works tell against Marshall's, whilst none of the apologies tell for them. Although we admit, therefore, that the three jolly companions show their designer to be possessed of a considerable acquaintance with the structure of the human frame, a happy knack at catching a likeness, and some power of expression, we must inevitably blame one, who ought to have known better, in the first place, for his choice of a subject; and, in the second place, for the manner in which he has treated it. We blame him for the choice of his subject, not because it is simply humorous-for many fine statues of Silenus, Fauns, &c. show how capable sculpture is of expressing some kinds of humour-but because it ties him down to the exact representation of a certain homely form and costume, which are gratifying to the eye neither in themselves nor by association. Similar subjects have been successfully treated in painting; but that is because painting admits of arrangements of colour, which present a medium of beauty for the conveyance of the story, that atones for the deficiencies of form. But the abstract character of sculpture affords no such compensation for vulgarity and meanness. Form is its sole medium for the expression of beauty or dignity, and the choice of a form, incapable of receiving this expression, excludes the work from the domains of art. We blame Mr Marshall, in the next place, for his treatment of the subject; because, though Thom, who knew nothing of sculpture, was pardonable for forming two isolated statues, and thinking that placing them side by side was grouping them, Marshall has no such apology.
Having given this sketch (however superficial and incomplete) of the state of public feeling with regard to art, it will be a comparatively easy matter to trace the rise and progress of the evil to which we alluded at the outset, and which we would fain cure. We doubt not our readers will remember to have heard during the last three years, from time to time, of wonderful productions of unaided genius-works of self-taught sculptors. There were, among others, a statue of the Duke of York, of Mr Canning, of the King; and that huge, goggle-eyed monster on the top of Melville's monument belongs to this class. But as all of these have excited their nine days' wonder, and already passed from the memory of man, we feel no inclination to recall them from oblivion. We shall rather take up our tale with Thom's statues. Notwithstanding the concourse of people who crowded to see them, we are not aware that any sane person ever pretended to call them works of art, in the proper acceptation of the term. The workman's story had reached Edinburgh before him. He was said to be a young man, who, without any better education than falls to the lot of all our Scottish peasantry, without having seen any finer specimen of sculpture than the Sir William Wallace, who "keepeth watch and ward" over the "Back of the Isle" in the ancient burgh of Ayr, at the sole suggestion of his own fancy, and with no better implements than the tools of a common mason, had embodied, in the first materials that came to hand, one of the most genial creations of Burns. There was something of romance in this story that awakened curiosity; and all who visited the works of the untaught genius, confessed that they were replete with feeling and character, and displayed (when his want of all instruction, and even of the common mechanical aids, were taken into consideration) a wonderful eye for form. Still they were but sculpture in its infancy-the first abortive efforts of unaided genius-indications of capability not yet matured into power, and without any claims to a place among the products of an art which has been the slow growth of cen-ditional remark, that the number of figures, and the space turies, and every professor of which is anxious to be enriched and strengthened by the experience of the genius which has preceded him. They wanted not only the mechanical dexterity, but the high and refined feeling which the pursuit of art engenders. It is most probable that the great mass of visitors, standing on the same level with the sculptor, were attracted by merits of that broad kind which speaks to all, while the deficiencies were such as they could not feel. But to those who understood the matter, it appeared but as a promise of what might yet be, and which could be attained only by the rejection of much which the vulgar counted beauties, but which, in the eye of taste, were defects. Mr Thom's success laid two courses open to his choice. He might endeavour to learn that art, for which he had shown such capacity; or he might content himself with remaining what he was, and making hay while the sun shone. He seems to have preferred the latter, and we have no right to quarrel with his choice. There, however, we leave him, and proceed to notice the effects of his success upon others.
Last week, we attended a private exhibition of Mr Marshall's statuary. It consists of three figures, intended to represent the party described in Burns's song" Willie brewed a peck o' maut." Mr Marshall is a marble-cutter in this city, and has, we are informed, already executed one or two busts, which have met with approbation. It is evident, from the figures which he is now exhibiting, that he is not similarly circumstanced with Thom,-in the finish of their faces and hands, we recognish a man who has some notion of art. In attempting, however, to vie with the Ayrshire sculptor, and to attract the public by a similar exhibition, he has retrograded. Thom is a man whose unassisted talent has produced something that is wonderful, chiefly because his talent was unassisted. Marshall is a man possessed of all the advantages
The aspirants in this new line of art succeed each other like the shadowy lineage of Banquo, and threaten to be as interminable. To Tam O'Shanter, and Willie of alebrewing memory, Mr Greenshields, a common stone-mason, threatens to add the whole clan of the Jolly Beggars. He thus lays himself open to the strictures we have already made on Mr Thom and Mr Marshall, with this ad
they must necessarily occupy, will place the whole production on a level with a wax-work exhibition. Not having seen any of the figures ourselves, we shall give an extract from a description of them which has appeared in some of the newspapers, as an apt, though melancholy, specimen of the critical talents of a certain class of writers:
"Four only of the group are nearly finished. These are the old soldier and his doxy, whom the poet describes in the second stanza of the cantata, large as life; and to each of whom the sculptor has most successfully given that lecherously amorous fixedness of desire,—as
His doxy lay within his arm,
To the toozie drab' he has given a limb and foot that
This is a highly-finished figure, if we may apply the epithet to the low rascal, with his low profession. He stands erect, in a singing attitude, his mouth more than half open, bawling aloud,
'Here's to budgets, bags, and wallets!
Here's to all the wandering train!
In his right hand he holds the mirth-inspiring bicker, which has lent to his phiz an air of ridicule, scoff, and raillery, and to his eye a tip of the wink,' which seems to be directed to his 'twa Deborahs,' as they sit on each side, listening with deep satisfaction, impatient for the chorus.' His dulcineas are only in model. This, we believe, is the largest group ever attempted by any sculptor,-nay, we are informed that it is the largest upon record, save one.'
to increase the gay appearance of the Admiral's yacht, the many-coloured dresses of the rowing clubs, Corsair and others, and the divers hues of the skiffs they propelled, like arrows up the arrowy stream; and, above all, the fifty thousand people who were spectators of a sight so novel here, where, till recently, no boat save the deadhouse one, and no barge except a dyer's, ever were seen above our bridges.
The dinner for dinner was more than a mere matter of course after five hours of exertion in the bracing airwas well attended, well cooked, well eaten, and, if we may judge from the good-humour of the speakers at it, well digested. Mr May, the croupier, after unwearied personal exertions to promote the enjoyment of the day, These are thy judges, oh Israel ! We do not hesitate opened his purse with a noble liberality towards establishto say, that if Mr Greenshields' works express but one- ing such a holiday annually. His cup is to be called half of what is here attributed to them, more disgusting"The Mayflower Cup." I hope it will soon be "the Lord sins against good taste were never perpetrated. Provost's" also. be a waste of time to enter into an exposure of the ignorance and vulgarity evinced by the critic.
It only remains to say, that, being ourselves no artists, we have not been influenced, in making these remarks, by any esprit du corps; and, that we are not animated by personal feelings, we trust the tone of our article will sufficiently establish. We only wish to raise our voice against a senseless and tasteless fashion which seems to be spreading. We think the cultivation of a nation's taste a matter of sufficient importance to be struggled for, even at the sacrifice of a few men of misdirected talent. Our object is, to serve the artist as long as he conducts himself in a manner worthy of his high vocation,-and, still more, to preserve art itself "against all hands deadly."
LETTERS FROM THE WEST.
You cannot, in happier Edinburgh, conceive how utterly destitute we have for months been of every thing in the shape of amusement. Were it not for the liveliness of the JOURNAL, even Saturday evenings would be dull here, although of old consecrate to merriment, if not to high jinks. The gloomy state of trade is partly the occasion of this; but is not altogether accountable for our sins of stupidity, for, in busy periods of trade we have not time to be amused, although, during its stagnation, we may lack the heart to laugh. I suspect we must, in the spirit of an early and excellent article in Blackwood, put it down to the "backwardness of the season;" for, when sunshine has sanctioned any show, there have been plenty of people ready to turn out to look at it. Even the Western Cricket Club have had no lack of fair spectators to "rain influence" on them, when they had no rain of another kind, a somewhat rare circumstance. They are a race, I think, that could astonish the athlete under the especial guardianship of the Revue Encyclopedique, or even those of the Highland Club. Indeed, I am not sure but some of them would even aspire to plucking a laurel from the crown of a Six Feet Club man. They affect, however, a modest diffidence in not challenging your Edinburgh Cricket Club, which is the senior of theirs; but they are not the less sure that they would beat them, and allege that they only wait a challenge for fifty sovereigns for a Kirk o' Shotts "Spring Meeting!" Verb. sap. Some of them, in sober seriousness, are burly fellows. Is it not a curious thing, that even in the sternest and most stalwart sports, gentlemen of the same nerve and muscle always are over-matches for clowns? Is it their tact that occasions this superiority, or is it that a certain delicacy of touch is necessary to enable a man to measure the amount of effort required to achieve any purpose? This superiority was never more shown than in rowing at our late Regatta, which was really a splendid affair, and more than enough to cancel reproach for a month's dulness. It was quite impossible to conceive that there could be a finer day for the purpose; and it served
It is well such manly sports are in fashion. The influence of the money prizes, too, on our seamen on the coast, may produce a skill even equal to that of the real boatmen. Already, in the Cardross ferrymen, it has. Equal courage they never wanted. Yet, four years ago, after rowing awhile at Eton, I could not get enough subscribed to build a gig, and now there are a dozen on the Clyde. Such is fashion.
Amid the lack of amusement of which I complain in Glasgow, we, i. e. les disemployés, have much reason to be grateful to the proprietors of the rival newsrooms--the orientalists and occidentalists; for they positively vie in soliciting us to make use of these fine apartments, and all their library conveniences, simply for the honour of our presence. Their rival claims split the city into two fac tions; and really impartial men like myself, who live, as well as think, midway between their extremes, don't know well how to act. I fear, however, we shall fall into less demand; for one of the rival houses will go down--which I need hardly say. To preserve the balance of power, the best scheme I have heard is, to turn the eastern one into a theatre. An excellent letter, on the necessity of having a well-conducted place of amusement in the centre of the city, which appeared in the Chronicle, has drawn attention to this. Meanwhile Seymour, with truly astonishing energy, has, in a few weeks, transferred the old and ugly Riding School, at the opposite extreme of the town, into a " Royal-Theatre," which he opened last Friday with Kean, who, it is whispered, is his partner in this new and bold speculation. The credit of great energy in overcoming difficulties cannot be denied to Seymour. His wisdom in placing his house almost out of town is another matter. However, good acting drew the citizens of London even to Goodman's Fields, and may those of Glasgow to York Street. One of his corps, a Mr M'Carthy, has published an extraordinary example of what a man, evidently of some talent in composition, will write in a terrible passion. It is in reply to a biting article, modelled on the Acris and Cerberus style of sprightly but severe impartiality-using the actual cautery where the sore is gangrenous-that recently appeared, “ On the Public Amusements of Glasgow." The Irishman's respond is as curious a specimen of blackguardism as ever was heard in "the liberties of Dublin."
We are not among the admirers of Madame Vestris, She is a neat, smart chambermaid, and looks very nice in a male dress,-especially as all her male dresses are faites à ravir: but beyond this, we have little praise to bestow. One thing, no doubt, must be taken into account,-that time is telling tales upon her. They say a lady's age is a delicate subject; but with public characters, such as Madame Vestris, we do not feel the necessity of being over and above scrupulous. The London critics (by the by, they sometimes affect to sneer at the Scotch critics,
though, with one or two exceptions, we do not think there amazing condescension which she has been graciously is a regular dramatic critic in all London worthy of the pleased to show towards the Scotch publi name,) the London critics, we say, rave about the elegance A miscellaneous remark or two. Murray's dress as of Vestris' form, and the beauty of her features; nay, it|| Billy Lackaday is “ quite a landscape." We would not is confessedly upon these that a good deal of her popular- give the patch behind for any money. Stanley's tailor, ity depends. We do not pretend to know what they in "Giovanni in London," is the completest thing of the may have ben, but at present, sooth to say, only indiffer- sort we have seen. His Irishman, in the "Invincibles," ent traces of them remain. We, of course, grant that is also exquisite. In his own line of parts he may go aVestris has a pretty enough little figure, and that her eye starring to London whenever he pleases; they have nois soft and rather intelligent; but we look for more in a body like him there. But he would be a terrible loss to star so long held up to us as of the first magnitude. Ves- us were he to leave us. Mrs Stanley played Eugenia, in tris is aware of this; and that we may not be disappoint- "Sweethearts and Wives," the other evening, very sweeted, she stuffs herself out, and paints herself up, in a style ly and prettily. It is a great pity that a person of so which may make "the unskilful laugh, but must make much good sense and cleverness as she is, should not get the judicious grieve." Her costume altogether, from top the better of a taint of affectation in her style of speaking, to toe, from her highest ringlet to the point of her shoe, which mars every thing she does. Why does she not alis as much a piece of art as the costume of a wax doll. ways talk in her own natural tones, without clipping and The great test of a fine woman is to see her in dishabille. twisting her words into what she thinks fine English ?Heaven forbid that we should ever see Vestris before she Williams is going to turn out but a poor addition to the had made her morning toilet! Some people may think company: but M'Gregor, who has returned to us after this is not legitimate criticism, but they are wrong. We some years' absence, is a smart fellow, and will be useful. wish to show that Vestris is altogether a piece of art, We are glad to see that Taylor shows a good example to nursed in the hot-bed of London, and that they, conse- the supernumeraries in his picturesque manner of dressquently, who look for the free fresh graces of nature, (anding inferior parts. Mr Larkin is not a first-rate singer ; where should they be found, if not in woman?) will be why has not an opportunity been given us of ascertainwoefully disappointed. There is a total want of hearting the extent of Mr Hart's voice?—Is Miss Fairbrother about her style of acting, which continually annoys us. to continue to dance to us?-Has Mrs Renaud no claim She goes through her parts carelessly, easily, elegantly; to be put upon the retired list of the Theatrical Fund? but she never utters a word that she seems to feel, and Old Cerberus. consequently they slip out of the memories of her audience, as the flickering of a lambent light upon a dead wall. She does well enough with the Londoners,— who see every thing at a distance-who are thrown into convulsions by the twist of Liston's nose, and who applaud to the echo all the Cockney trash about a blue bonnet or a bit of tartan, that is palmed upon them as a Scotch song; but here we look closer into the affair, -we are accustomed to cabinet acting-to the quiet deep humour of Murray, or the refined grace of Mrs Siddons, and we consequently cannot get into raptures with Vestris' immense developement à posteriori, (her dress-maker knows something about it,) or the two blotches of rouge upon her cheeks, or the very peculiar ruby tint of her lips, or her French curls, or the somewhat remarkable expression of her teeth. Nevertheless, as we said before, she is a smart chambermaid, and a dashing enough looking manikin, when she wears breeches, and "to this conclusion must we come, Horatio." She sings also, and sings well too; but then her songs are all of that light, unimpressive kind, which please and are forgotten, such as, "Love was once a little boy," "What can poor maidens do?""Love and Reason," or "The Banners of Blue," the words of which are pure Cockney, beginning
"Strike up, strike up, Scottish minstrels so gay!" Things such as these are all the trifles of an hour; they come as shadows, and so depart. They are well enough in their way; and we should not be so angry with them as we are, were it not that people make so mighty a fuss about them, whilst it is our humour to call them by
their right names.
Vestris has a younger sister, ycleped Miss Bartalozzi, rather pleasant to the eye, being a tolerably well-arranged piece of flesh and blood; but the poor girl appears to be eaten up with conceit and affectation. Her style of singing and acting is as if she were conferring the greatest honour in the world on the audience; and on the night of her first appearance, because there was a slight noise in the house, she chose to take the pet (pretty dear!) and would not go on, forsooth, with her part. She seems to think herself a singer, too, but she squalls abominably; and as for her acting, it is the most heartless mummery we ever witnessed.. We have no particular desire, therefore, to see a great deal more of Mademoiselle Bartalozzi; we are quite willing to decline any farther exertion of that
THE NEGLECTED WIFE.
By Mrs Embury, of New York.
Beloved one, beloved one, when on thy brightening cheek
Will yet arrive, when peace shall shed o'er both her pity
Beloved one, beloved one, whene'er thy soft caress
O'er all my life's pale, wither'd flowers, their freshening
Beloved one, beloved one, I know thou lov'st me not,
I know thou'st learn'd to look almost with loathing on