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&c. &c. &c., whether most to their discomfort or my own, it would be difficult to determine.

My happy father meantime was delighted with these exhibitions, and never suffered me to refuse a request to favor the company with some music, lest I should incur the charge of affectation, and only laughed at my squeamishness, as he termed it, when I endeavored to convince him that my ready compliance was attributed to forwardness. But I began to grow callous to the petty malice of a country town; I contrived to conciliate the young ladies by playing quadrilles for them to dance to through the winter; and though the young men still thought, if they did not politely declare, that music was a great bore, the little of their conversation which I was permitted to hear quite satisfied me for the loss of the remainder; and, the due visits and compliments paid and returned, I hoped that in time I should have some respite, as a wonder cannot last forever.

did I not think his punishment merited for his hypocrisy. One gentleman indeed there is, a very pleasant young man, that is, heir to a considerable estate,-who seems never tired of his post.

He is an amateur, to my curse; and, having few ideas or occupations of his own, is literally most happy when turning over the leaves of my music-book, or accompanying me on his leaden flute. I wish he were in reality a musical automaton, and then I need not be civil to him!

But my misfortunes do not end here: whilst I could escape being chained to the piano, only to be placed at the card-table, or to take my seat in a committee of fashions and scandal, it was endurable; but latterly a family has settled in our vicinity,oh! how unlike the rest of our neighbors!-intelligent, well-informed people, who have lived some years abroad;

visited France, Switzerland, Italy, Greece ;-and who, without retailing to every stranger the diary of their voyages, possess a fund of amusing and delightful conversation. "Alas! in vain to me the accents flow;" pent up at my usual station, with my tootoo-ing persecutor by my side, I am tantalized with seeing the group collected round the entertaining travellers, at the farthest end of the apartment, and occasionally hearing a few catching words, such as-Lake of Geneva, Simplon, Vatican, Miserere. but In vain I attempt to pause, pretend to be in search of some stray book-my aunt is immediately at my elbow"Go on, my dear, you don't interrupt the conversation in the least."

Fresh torments, however, awaited me, through the mistaken kindness of my aunt an elderly maiden lady, who, on my mother's death, came to superintend my father's domestic concerns. Aunt Deborah has no more ear than the china figures on her chimney-piece; but she is extremely partial to music; partly because it relieves her in some degree from the labor of entertaining the company, chiefly because, like the poet, she considers that "Music is the food of love," and in the vain hope of my captivating some simple swain; for to see her niece happily established is, just now, the main object of her ambition. Accordingly, she bids me

play on," till even the most persevering beau must be weary of the never-ending strain. Often should I pity some unfortunate youth, who from excess of politeness, (not the usual foible of the present age, certainly,) or in hope of ingratiating himself with my aunt or me, stands sentinel at the piano, whilst his wandering eyes betray his absent thoughts,

"No, aunt, but I should like to hear it!"—"Oh, Mr. Merton is only giving an account of something he saw or heard in Italy; you may read all about it at your leisure in the books your father had down for you; besides, my dear, (in a half whisper,) you could not be so rude as to leave Mr.

to play by himself!"-Driven to the last resource, an appeal to Mr.

-'s generosity,-I suggest that probably he would have no objection to joining the company and conversa

tion." Who, I? no faith! I never had much turn for that sort of thing; to my mind, now, music's the best thing in the world to keep one awake of an evening; so if you please, Miss Rondeau, we'll lose no more time; I've found the book you were looking for"—and down I am obliged to sit, unless I would openly set at defiance my aunt's authority.

Debarred every other source of enjoyment, I endeavor to solace myself with the only pleasure permitted me; and, to soothe my irritated mind, take up some crabbed piece which requires my whole skill and attention to master; or perhaps venture on some sublime composition equally beyond the comprehension of the generality of auditors, and succeed in overcoming my chagrin sufficiently to receive, with at least the appearance of complacency, the usual speeches addressed to me on such occasions. "Upon my word, Miss Rondeau, you played most charmingly to-night; but I own that scientific music is quite beyond me!" -"Oh, I hate Beethoven," exclaims a younger lady, "all his things are so difficult, I never have patience to learn them.”—“I never attempt pieces which require so much execution," replies another; "my time is really too precious-besides, simplicity is my idol, a sweet ballad of Moore's for example."-" My dear creature, you must excuse me for deserting you tonight; Mr. Henry Merton was so entertaining, that positively it was impossible not to listen to him, even in preference to you. .”—“ What a charming description he gave us of that lake, somewhere abroad, and that large theatre at Zurich or somewhere-I declare I'm dying to see it."-"I

wonder, Miss Sophy, you had not some curiosity to hear about the fine singing in Italy!-the very land of harmony, you know-but then you can produce such divine sounds yourself!" I reply in monosyllables, and pass for a vain, stupid girl, with no soul for anything but sounds.-As for Mr. Merton, the father, I verily believe he takes me for a mere musical machine : he was heard one day to observe, that it was a pity there was no contrivance for stopping so admirable a piece of mechanism. "She certainly does play delightfully,"-replied one of his sons, who has an agreeable voice, and sometimes joins the party at the piano, making music really a social amusement by taking part in it with spirit"and she would sing extremely well too, were it not for her timidity; I should like to know whether she can converse as charmingly."-" Timidity, indeed!" replied his brother-" I question if she possess any talent but for music, or depend upon it she would not hesitate to display it."

Thus, Mr. Editor, am I derided and despised; and deprived of many opportunities of rational enjoyment and improvement, merely because I am so unfortunate as to excel in one particular accomplishment.-If ever I had a daughter to educate, she should be taught music as a delightful recreation for her leisure hours, and the means of sometimes imparting pleasure to the domestic circle; but never should it be known beyond that circle that she possessed such a talent; lest, like myself, she should have to lament, that, instead of the pleasures it is so well calculated to afford, fate has condemned her to taste only "the pains of music." Yours, G.

SAGACITY, &c. OF DOGS.

ence.

[The Society for the Diffusion of Useful time publishing under their superintendKnowledge have published Part I. Vol. I. of a series of works, to be called the Library of Entertaining Knowledge, on the plan of the Library of Useful Knowledge, which it is well known has been for some

This Part is entitled "The Menageries: Quadrupeds described and drawn from living Subjects." The descriptions are illustrated by wood-cuts, taken from the living animals, chiefly those in the gar

190

Sagacity of Dogs.

dens of the Zoological Society. We copy
the following anecdotes of dogs.-This
"Library" is to be re-printed, we hear, in
this country.]

MANY of the inferior animals have a
distinct knowledge of time. The sun
appears to regulate the motions of
those which leave their homes in the
morning, to return at particular hours
of the evening. The Kamtschatka
dogs are probably influenced in their
autumnal return to their homes by a
change of temperature. But in those
animals possessing the readiest con-
ceptions, as in the case of dogs in a
highly civilized country, the exercise
of this faculty is strikingly remarka-
ble. Mr. Southey, in his Omniana,
relates two instances of dogs who had
acquired such a knowledge of time as
would enable them to count the days
of the week. He says: "My grand-
father had one which trudged two
miles every Saturday to cater for him-
self in the shambles. I know another
more extraordinary and well-authen-
ticated example. A dog which had
belonged to an Irishman, and was sold
by him in England, would never touch
a morsel of food upon Friday." The
same faculty of recollecting intervals
of time exists, though in a more limit-
ed extent, in the horse. We knew a
horse (and have witnessed the circum-
stance) which, being accustomed to be
employed once a week on a journey
with the newsman of a provincial pa-
per, always stopped at the houses of
the several customers, although they
were sixty or seventy in number.
But, further, there were two persons
on the route who took one paper be-
tween them, and each claimed the
privilege of having it first on the alter-
nate Sunday. The horse soon became
accustomed to this regulation; and al-
though the parties lived two miles dis-
tant, he stopped once a fortnight at
the door of the half-customer at
Thorpe, and once a fortnight at that
of the other half-customer at Chert-
sey, and never did he forget this ar-
rangement, which lasted several years,
or stop unnecessarily, when he once
thoroughly understood the rule.

understand not merely separate words Dr. Gall says that dogs "learn to or articulate sounds, but whole senElliotson, the learned translator of tences expressing many ideas." Dr. following passage from Gall's TreaBlumenbach's Physiology, quotes the tise sur les Fonctions du Cerveau, without expressing any doubt of the circumstance :-" I have often spoken intentionally of objects which might mention his name, or make any intointerest my dog, taking care not to his attention. He, however, showed nation or gesture which might awaken be; and, indeed, manifested by his no less pleasure or sorrow, as it might behavior that he had understood the conversation which concerned him. I ris ;-in a very short time she comhad taken a bitch from Vienna to Paprehended French as well as German, of which I satisfied myself by repeating before her whole sentences in both languages." We have heard an instance of this quickness in the comprehension of language which is very remarkable. A mongrel, between the shepherd's dog and terrier, a great favorite in a farm-house, was standing by while his mistress was washing some of her children. Upon asking a boy, whom she had just dressed, to bring his sister's clothes from the next room, he pouted and hesitated. "Oh, then," said the mother, "Mungo will fetch them." of reproach to the boy, for Mungo had She said this by way not been accustomed to fetch and carry. But Mungo was intelligent and obedient; and without further command he brought the child's frock to his astonished mistress. This was an effort of imagination in Mungo, which dogs certainly possess in a considerable degree. He had often observed, doubtless, the business of dressing the children; and the instant he was appealed to, he imagined what his mistress wanted. Every one knows the anxiety which dogs feel to go out with customed so to do. A dog will often their masters, if they have been acanticipate the journey of his owner; and, guessing the road he means to

take, steal away to a considerable The terror which the dog felt at the naked thief was altogether imaginary, for the naked man was less capable of resisting the attack of the dog than if he had been clothed. But then the dog had no support in his experience. His memory of the past did not come to the aid of that faculty which saw an unknown danger in the future. The faculties of quadrupeds, like those of men, are of course mixed in their operation. The dog, who watches by his master's grave, and is not tempted away by the caresses of the living, employs both his memory and his imagination in this act of affection. In the year 1827 there was a dog constantly to be seen in St. Bride's churchyard, Fleet Street, which for two years had refused to leave the place where his master was buried. He did not appear miserable; he evidently recollected their old companionship, and he imagined that their friendship would again be renewed. The inhabitants of the houses round the church daily fed the poor creature, and the sexton built him a little kennel. But he would never quit the spot;-and there he died.

distance on that road to avoid being detained at home. We have repeatedly seen this circumstance. It is distinctly an effort of the imagination, if it be not an inference of reasoning. Linnæus has made it a characteristic of dogs that " they bark at beggars" but beggars are ragged, and sometimes have that look of wildness which squalid poverty produces; and then the imagination of the dog sees, in the poor mendicant, a robber of his master's house, or one who will be cruel to himself-and he expresses his own fears by a bark. A dog is thus valuable for watching property in proportion to the ease with which he is alarmed. One of the greatest terrors of a domesticated dog is a naked man, because this is an unaccustomed object. The sense of fear is said to be so great in this situation, that the fiercest dog will not even bark. A tan-yard at Kilmarnock in Ayrshire was a few years ago extensively robbed by a thief, who took this method to overcome the courage of a powerful Newfoundland dog, who had long protected a considerable property.

SOUTHEY'S NEW WORK.*

A WORK by Robert Southey ought not to pass unnoticed, whatever may be the subject of which it treats. Of the propriety of bringing forward, however, in the present day, a superstitious tradition like that on which the first of these poems is founded, we are somewhat doubtful, and should have been better pleased if the Laureate had chosen some other foundation, on which he might rear a superstructure more congenial to the spirit and wants of the age. This tradition is one of the Greek church, and may be thus summed up. A youth, by name Eleëmon, fell in love with his master's daughter, Cyra, and

:

long essayed to win the consent of the father to certain proceedings nowise disagreeable in the view of the fair damsel herself. Eleemon prayed to virgin, and saint, and martyr, and in vain: he then turned to the heathen authorities, not as yet quite exploded in Cappadocia, and with equal ill success besought the aid of what one of our Cockney bards calls " Apollo, and Mercurius, and the rest." There remained one chance more-namely, the old gentleman, as he is generally denominated in polite society. Eleëmon accordingly goes to the devil, who consents to manage that Cyra shall forthwith be Mrs. E., provided

* All for Love; or, the Sinner well Saved and The Pilgrim to Compostella; or, a Legend of a Cock and a Hen. By Robert Southey, Esq. L.L.D. Poet Laureate, &c. 12mo. pp. 220. London, 1829.

the said Eleëmon consents to have a little red mark put on his breast, over against his heart, being the outward and visible sign of his having sold his soul, this world's goods past and gone, to his satanic majesty. The bargain is struck, the seal is stamped, Cyra is married to Eleëmon, and to all outward view they are a most happy couple. But Eleëmon, the honeymoon once over, cannot away with the "damned spot." "" Much of the conduct of the story is beautiful and pathetic. His secret is extorted from him by his affectionate wife, after a second marvellous dream, and by her revealed to the holy Bishop Basil, who receives the confession and contrition of the sinner who has sacrificed All

for Love. He gives godly counsel;

and now comes a beautiful touch of monastic imagination - the spot is washed out by the tears of Eleëmon and his Cyra.

We present a few extracts only. The first describes Eleëmon's visit to Satan, when he has exposed himself to the execution of the diabolical contract.

"The rising moon grew pale in heaven
At that unhappy sight;

And all the blessed stars seemed then
To close their twinkling light:
And a shuddering in the elms was heard,
Though winds were still that night.

He called the spirits of the air,
He called them in the name
Of Abibas; and at the call
The attendant spirits came.

A strong hand which he could not see
Took his uplifted hand;
He felt a strong arm circle him,
And lift him from his stand;

A whir of unseen wings he heard
About him everywhere,
Which onward, with a mighty force,
Impelled him through the air.
Fast through the middle sky and far
It hurried him along :
The hurricane is not so swift,
The torrent not so strong:
The lightning travels not so fast,

The sunbeams not so far:
And now behind him he hath left
The moon and every star.
And still erect as on the tomb
In impious act he stood,
Is he rapt onward-onward-still
In that fixed attitude.

But as he from the living world
Approached where spirits dwell,
His bearers there in thinner air
Were dimly visible;
Shapeless, and scarce to be described
In darkness where they flew ;
But still as they advanced, the more
And more distinct they grew;
And when their way fast-speeding they
Through their own region went,
Then were they in their substance seen,
The angelic form, the fiendish mien,

Face, look, and lineament.

Behold where dawns before them now,
Far off, the boreal bay-

Sole daylight of that frozen zone,
The limit of their way.

In that drear realm of outer night,
Like the shadow, or the ghost of light,

It moved in the restless skies,
And went and came, like a feeble flame
That flickers before it dies.
There the fallen seraph reigned supreme
Amid the utter waste;
There on the everlasting ice
His dolorous throne was placed.

Son of the Morning! is it then
For this that thou hast given
Thy seat, pre-eminent among
The hierarchies of heaven?

As if dominion here could joy
To blasted pride impart ;
Or this cold region slake the fire
Of hell within the heart!

Thither the evil angels bear
The youth, and rendering homage there
Their service they evince,
And in the name of Abibas
Present him to their prince :

Just as they seized him when he made
The sorcerer's mandate known,
In that same act and attitude
They set him before the throne.

The fallen seraph cast on him
A dark disdainful look,
And from his raised hand scornfully
The proffer'd tablets took.

Ay,-love!' he cried. It serves me well.
There was the Trojan boy,-

His love brought forth a ten years' war,
And fired the towers of Troy.

And when my own Mark Antony
Against young Cæsar strove,
And Rome's whole world was set in arms,
The cause was,-all for love!

Some for ambition sell themselves,

By avarice some are driven; Pride, envy, hatred, best will move Some souls, and some for only love

Renounce their hopes of heaven.

Yes, of all human follies, love, Methinks, hath served me best. The apple had done but little for me If Eve had not done the rest.

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