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facilitate the cultivation of the country; but in times of danger they retire to the mountain, the highest summit of which, called Tripa, can afford refuge to ten thousand men. The first thing the Pacha did was to occupy the plain. The four villages were deserted as he advanced, and the inhabitants carried all their corn with them. Having thus made himself master of the country without resistance, Ali ordered Giavella to be brought into his presence, and told him that, if he would give him the information requisite for gaining possession of the mountain, he would not only spare his life, but load him with favours, and appoint him to an important post. Giavella feigned a willingness to forward the views of the Pacha; he promised, if Ali would give him his liberty, to ascend the mountain, and to prevail upon his adherents, or at least one half of the inhabitants, to submit to him, and turn their arms against Bogia. Transported with this prospect, the Pacha complied, but not without demanding a hostage. This hostage was the only son of Giavella, to whom he declared that, in case of any deception on his part, the life of the youth should be sacrificed to his revenge. Giavella agreed to this condition, sent for his son, delivered him into the hands of the Pacha, and departed. No sooner had he reached his home, than he addressed to him the following letter:

"Ali Pacha, I exult in having deceived a traitor. I am come hither to defend my native land against a robber. My son will suffer death, but I will fearfully avenge him before I fall my self. Many a one, and you Turks in particular, will say that I am a cruel father, because I sacrifice my son to my own safety; but to this I reply, that if you had taken the mountain, my son would have perished together with the rest of my family and compatriots, and I should have had no opportunity of revenging his death. I know the sentiments of my son; but if he could have hesitated to sacrifice himself for the welfare of his country, he would have been unworthy to live and to bear my name. Come on, traitor! I long for revenge. I am thy sworn enemy, GIAVELLA."

Giavella's son, a boy of twelve years, was present when the Pacha received this letter. Ali had sufficient self-command to moderate the first transports of his rage; and instead of ordering his

instant death, he sent him with secret commands to Janina, where his son, Velim Bey, was invested with the administration of affairs in his absence. I knew a person who saw him arrive, and was present at his first interview with Velim. He displayed a courage and boldness which extorted universal admiration. "I am only waiting till I hear again from the Pacha," said Velim, "to order thee to be burned alive." "I fear thee not," replied the boy; "my father will treat thy son or thy brother in the same manner when he gets them into his power."-He was thrown into a dark dungeon, where his only food was bread and water.

The Pacha commenced the execution of his plan of attack. He had assembled a numerous army, and been joined by most of the Arnaut leaders who served under him. I have seen several of these leaders, and only regret that I had no opportunity of meeting with the most remarkable of them, named Soliman Ciapar. The latter, according to the testimony of persons of unquestionable veracity, was a man of gigantic stature, eighty-five years old, but nothing about him announced his advanced age except his beard of extraordinary whiteness. He was attended by eleven of his sons, from thirty to sixty years old, and all of them as tall and robust as himself. On account of their strength and valour they were regarded as so many heroes. They never separated, that if one should fall, the others might be at hand to revenge his death. It is the general practice of these tribes to go out in families together to war, and to wreak their vengeance upon the enemy, if one of their number should be slain. A more accurate observation of the manners of

these people, who in so many respects resemble Homer's heroes, would greatly facilitate the labours of the commentators of the Iliad.

Ali's troops at first gained some advantages. A detachment of eight hundred Arnauts took, without difficulty, a tower which stood upon one of the first lines of defence; they advanced to a/ second, in which Bogia was posted, and took that also. Flushed with confidence, and conceiving that Bogia was their prisoner, they pursued their march to a third tower, whence they hoped to reach the summit of the mountain. The Pacha's army, perceiving the Arnauts advancing in this manner without resistance, and apprehensive of losing its share of the booty if it delayed, any

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longer to support them, put itself in motion with loud shouts of victory. In a short time more than four thousand men had passed the tower in which Bogia was. That chieftain then ordered a bell to be rung, as the preconcerted signal for a general slaughter. The Sulliots, stationed in several very advantageous posts, the avenues to which were known only to themselves, immediately opened a most tremendous fire of musketry on their enemies; while the women rolled down upon them, from inaccessible heights, prodigious stones, which had long been kept in readiness for the moment of danger. In vain did the Turks attempt to retreat; Bogia had no difficulty to prevent them, and all perished excepting one hundred and forty men, who laid down their arms, and were made prisoners. Among them was one of the sons of Soliman Čiapar. Of the Sulliots only fifty-seven were killed and twenty-seven wounded. Giavella was among the slain. As he could not doubt that his son had been put to death, he had, to revenge him, performed prodigies of valour, and at length, covered with wounds, precipitated himself amidst the assailants, who dispatched him.

Ali, still surrounded at the foot of the mountain by numerons troops, durst not, however, renew the attack. The multitude of dead bodies thrown down from the rocks served to increase the panic of his soldiers. The Pacha thought of nothing but his retreat, which he conducted with such precipitation, that the greatest part of his baggage, and all his ammunition, fell into the hands of the Sulliots. Two horses

dropped down dead under him during his flight. On his arrival at Janina he made overtures for peace through the medium of a bishop. It was apparently for the purpose of using them on such occasions, that he tolerated ecclesiastics of the Greek church in his dominions. Whenever he shall cease to have formidable neighbours, it is to be feared that he will make martyrs of those whom he has hitherto employed as messengers of peace. Such apprehensions too might reasonably be entertained by the Parganiots, who are warmly attached to their religion.

The first condition insisted upon by the Sulliots was the release of Giavella's son. The father had too heroically retrieved his error-he had too severely atoned for the imprudence by which he had involved his country in danger; the son yet lived, and he was sent back unhurt. Ali was obliged to submit to many other sacrifices; he yielded to necessity, calculating upon one day having an opportunity to revenge himself. So long as the French remained masters of Corfu, their connection with the Sulliots, and the love of independence cherished by the latter, prevented the execution of his design; but a more favourable period occurred for its accomplishment, and he at length succeeded, by means of bribes, in dividing this proud people, which previously formed but one family, and which he was unable to subdue by force.

There still exists a mountain in Sulli to which the Turks, in memory of their sanguinary defeat, have given the name of Caco Sulli―the unfortunate, the fatal Sulli: but the Sulliots are no more!

INTELLIGIBLE ODES, CHEERFUL ELEGIES, GAY SONNETS,
DECENT EPIGRAMS, AND TALES OF NO WONDER.
Virginibus Puerisque Canto.-Hor.

VERSES WRITTEN AT HOME.

What tho' my chairs are walnut, and my desk

So plain, that you may call it 'picturesque:' Tho' no Egyptian sofas, which may cope With those so lately publish'd by T. Hope, Support my wearied limbs, in gay repose, Where the Miss Sphinxes smile at modern beaux :

No lamps that shine with truly classic light,
Such as enchant thy learned eyes, O Knight.
My garden, tho' 'tis small, is very rough,
Yet Uvedale Price might like it well enough.
Alas! my shelves, so bare of books, would
raise

From Dr. Gosset not one look of praise.
And then, no paintings on my walls appear,
To make a virgin blush, an old man leer;

No ancient baubles do my closets fill,
Such as of yore were seen at Strawberry-hill,
Nor such as lately, to content the law,
At WC- fill'd the bailiffs' paw.
My MSS. are neither old nor rare,
But all receipts, and fil'd this present year.
PAUL EASY, Gent.

THE GARRETTEER AND THE TWO CATS.

A hint to Sonnetteers.

Once on a summer's night, two cats,

Spite of the moon, stood caterwauling ; Near in a garret, broiling sprats,

A poet heard their hideous squalling. Zounds! quoth the hungry angry bard, What tho' you feel love's pains and labours,

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AN ODE TO SNUGNESS.

Goddess! I hail thy placid air,
Thy neat attire, thy mod'rate cheer:
The light of freedom cal.nly gleams
From thy blue eyes, and plainly seems
To mark thee of celestial breed,
Unknown to earthly cares which lead
To noise and nothing. Bless my lot,
And be my patron-I ask not
For gifts that greedy worldlings prize,
But for that calm repose which lies
Within thy breast: not that which dwells
In cold and damp monastic cells,
To soothe the friar in his cloister,
Or his dull cousin, the rock oyster ;
Nor that, which nestling in a rug,
Beatifies a flea or bug;
But what, I safely may aver,
Becomes a true philosopher,
Who is not one step more inclin'd
To seek a distance from his kind,
Than what may guarantee his life
From worldly cares and worldly strife.

ON SEEING A VOLUME OF DULL POEMS
SUPERBLY BOUND AND GILT, &C.
How fine! what book-collecting elf
Pants not to place it on his shelf-
The cover all of Russian red,

No book-worm dares to shew its head :
The sculptures on the back must please,
And then it opens with such ease;
Oh, what a glorious type! indeed
So large, that who can run may read;'
The margin liberally wide,
The paper is hot-press'd beside;
The poetry-no doubt each sonnet
Answers the cost bestow'd upon it-
In truth the author had been kinder,
Had he left these all to the binder.

ODE TO HAPPINESS.

O Happiness! tho' known to few,

I must proclaim you a coquet :

Who courts your smiles the hours must rue That forc'd him to implore and fret. "Tis to the careless, and the gay,

Who scoff at sorrow, jeer at woes, You shew the snug and private way That leads to pleasure or repose. Ambition's sons the path mistake, Tho' led by enterprises bold;

The rich man dreams that he can take,
And seize you by the power of gold;
But dreams in vain: nor less in vain
The plodding scholar, and the sage,
Of your retiring steps complain,
And seek you in a future age.
Yon calm philosopher, who ne'er
Sought thee awake, or in a nap,
Finds thee with mild and smiling air,
Quietly seated on his lap.

A METAMORPHOSIS (NOT IN OVID.)
Shewing how some Women are called old Cats.
Clara, who once could boast such charms,
That rous'd the world of beaux to arms,
Now mourns her features all deranged,
Her golden locks to silver changed;
Her roses all transform'd to pimples,
To wrinkles all her pretty dimples;
Now hobbling on two legs of lath,
Seeks the decoy-pools here at Bath.
Her back and shoulders cloth'd with fur,
With visage grave she seems to pur:
Not one of all the feline race

Can shew such whiskers in her face.
And lo! her yellow eyes, how keen!
On yonder pool intent are seen.
Her paws extended long and quick,
To catch her prey she knows each trick,
And shews that like poor puss' she wishes
To riot in this pool of fishes.

New Rooms, Bath, 18-.

6

CAPT. SAUNTER.

TO AN OLD MAID, WHO WISHED ME TO
WRITE AN EPITAPH ON HER CAT.

Dear Ma'm, you know the world's, alas! sick
Of passages from authors classic,
And cries, No doubt, you mean to gull us
With stale quotations from Catullus;
Yet first of all, the story goes,

You turn the poet into prose.'

Then, Ma'm, your cat (tho' now he's dead)
Had once nine lives upon one head;

And that's a life for every Muse,
Fresh reason why I should refuse.
Then ask some sonnetteer, not me,
To tell your sad catastrophe.
A sonnet, every reader knows,
Is a full catalogue of woes!!!

THE TABLES TURNED, OR A CAUTION TO
THE FAIR.

When the poor whining luckless swain,
To Chloe tells his tale in vain,

'Midst oaths, and sighs, and tears,
To rocks as hard as Chloe's vows,
To groves as darkling as her brows,
His secret griefs he bears!!'

But should fond Chloe grant his prayer,
In luckless hour he quits the fair

Who did his wishes crown:
Proud of his conquest, now no more
He seeks the grove, the rock, or shore,
But tells it all the town.

• Quadrille parties.

THE HORKEY; A PICTURE FROM LIFE.

"Here once a year distinction low'rs its crest,
The master, servant, and the merry guest,
Are equal all."
Bloomfield.

Of all the evils of the present day, and according to the statements of our moralists and politicians they are almost innumerable, there is none which appears to me so destructive to good feeling in its progress, and so fraught with ruin in its consequences, as that rapid obliteration of old customs, and daily increasing confusion of ranks, which is occasioned by the eager desire of the middling classes to ape manners and habits inconsistent with their pursuits, inimical to their interests, and dangerous to their happiness. Nor is it to the capital alone, or even to large towns, that this folly is confined.

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Down into scenes still rural; but, alas!

Scenes rarely graced with rural manners now."

And surely, if affectation and folly can be more disgusting in one place than another, they must appear most especially so when exhibited amid scenes hallowed by the graceful simplicity of Nature herself, and avocations which are inseparably associated in the human mind with ideas of industry, cheerfulness, and contentment.

The early part of my own life was passed in the country, at a time when roads had not become familiar with coaches, and when consequently the importation of a new fashion, or a new folly, from the metropolis into a distant county, was a matter of too much trouble and contrivance to be entered upon at the mere caprice of the moment; and when even Fame herself, with her wide-spreading wings and her hundred tongues, often failed to impart her rumours to the sequestered village, or quiet market-town, until long after the period fixed for their fulfilment had passed harmlessly away. Methinks at this moment when I am writing, a distance of time including nearly forty years, that I see the imposing, though old-fashioned figure, the fine eyes and benevolent countenance of my good and kind-hearted maiden aunt, who managed a farm of some hundreds of acres, which my father made his recreation from professional pursuits, as much to the satisfaction of her brother, as the admiration of her neighbours. Her favourite seat was at a window which looked into the farm-yard, and enabled her to see that NEW MONTHLY MAG.-No. 82.

the cattle and poultry were served at their accustomed hours, and that the labourers went to their work at the time prescribed to them. There, with her account-books before her, and her spectacles on her nose, she sat in the afternoons, when her more active superintendence of the kitchen was over, the terror of the idle, the delight and hope of the industrious and unfortunate; nor had ever birth-day belle a more devoted attention paid to every glance of her eye, and every bon-mot that might escape her lips, than my maiden aunt commanded in the circle around her, wherein her will was considered as law, and her maxims were repeated as oracles.

Nor

A desire to recal the tranquil and innocent enjoyments of my youth, contrasted as they have been ever since with the cares attendant upon a residence in one of the noisiest and busiest parts of London, has led me to seek all my occasional recreations in the country: but deeming no place within the contaminating influence of the smoke of the metropolis worthy of that name, I was not to be satisfied with gazing on St. Paul's from Islington, or eating cheesecakes at Highbury-barn. could I wander on the banks of the Paddington Canal, and fancy the coalbarges painted gallies, or lose myself to my own satisfaction in the mazes of the Regent's Park, or stand rapt in wonder beneath the Highgate Tunnel, or feel myself a recluse at Hornsey-wood House, or the " child of liberty" on Hampstead Heath, eulogized as it has been by Mr. Leigh Hunt; and yet he is poet enough to persuade me into most things, when he lets me have a peep at his genius without that thick veil of affectation in which he too often hides it as effectually, though not as wisely, as Nature wraps the treasures of her bosom during winter in a mantle of snow. No; my ideas of the enjoyments of the country were inseparably associated with the employments of the country; and a house close by the road-side, with verandas in the front, and city beaux and belles standing in them on a Sunday, dressed out in all the extreme finery of the fashions, to look at the coaches as they go by, gave me no more VOL. XIV. 3 R

idea of rural life, such as I had known it, than I should have of the spiritual world were I to be guided in my speculations concerning it solely by the ladies with large white wings, and white gowns, and red cheeks, that are suspended at the doors of village ale-houses, as specimens of the "angelic host," or rather of the hostess. Taking therefore a wider range, I used often to avail myself of some of the invitations, which a variety of circumstances connected with business procured me in abundance, to visit several respectable farmers in the counties of Surrey, Middlesex, and Essex. With as much truth as poetry does Milton say, that

-"One who long in populous city pent,
Where houses thick, and sewers annoy the air,
Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe
Among the pleasant villages and farms
Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight:
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine,
Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound."

And certainly, during the course of the journey itself, all these sources of pleasure I enjoyed to the utmost; but arrived at its end, I generally found my satisfaction damped, and all the restraints and anxieties of town-life intruded again upon my mind by the awkward imitation of its manners that awaited me.

I was once asked to spend a couple of days at a farm-house in Essex, about thirty miles from London; on the express condition that I should be treated exactly the same as one of the family. I consented; and the more willingly as my friend Mr. Clayfield, though a man of comfortable property, was far from being in such circumstances as might make him fancy himself above looking after his own affairs. As I dearly love to take the wings of the morning, even on matters of business, and still more on matters of pleasure, I set off at six o'clock, resolving to breakfast at Brentwood; a place which always appears very inviting to me, on account of its cleanly and cheerful aspect, and the fine country by which it is surrounded. I calculated that I should then just have time enough, after giving my horse a good rest, to jog on leisurely to a one o'clock dinner, which I supposed was the family hour of mine host, as that when his presence among his labourers would be best dispensed with. I found, however, on my arrival, that I was quite out of my reckoning. Instead of dinner, a sandwich-tray was introduced, and the lady of the house, who could

not be accused of any vulgar old-fashioned excess of welcome, informed me that her husband was walking in the grounds, but that he would be in to lunch. Accordingly, in a few minutes he made his appearance, accompanied by a young man dressed in a dandy frock coat, with a waist like a wasp, and a neck like a goose, and who, Mrs. Clayfield informed me, was studying agriculture with her husband; in other words, learning to farm, or rather, to keep horses and dogs, as he seemed to think the stables and kennel the only part of the farming business that really required any attention. Our conversation over the sandwich-tray was confined entirely to field-sports, and the news of the day; for I found all allusion to crops or cattle as carefully avoided by the gentlemen, as the poultry-yard or dairy were by the ladies of the family, and I was therefore heartily glad when a walk was proposed. Instead, however, of being shewn the farm-yard or orchard, either of which I should have had a pleasure in seeing, I was dragged through thin shrubberies, and forlorn plots of flowers, which, by their neglected condition, shewed that after all they were of very secondary consideration, as belonging merely to the ornamental department. Before the house was an oval piece of water, which looked uncomfortable enough; for it was scarcely large enough to suffice a thirsty team of cattle, and yet conveyed an idea, that if any urchins were to fall into it on their faces, they might manage to require the coroner's opinion as to how they came there. I did not, however, like to criticize it, because I thought it was probably placed thus immediately before the windows in order that Mrs. Clayfield and her children might have the pleasure of seeing the ducks swim about in it; and, in good truth, I have stood many a half hour to watch them at the edge of a scrubbier pond even than this. I made some remark to this effect to one of the young ladies, a pale-faced girl of fourteen, who had reluctantly laid down Lord Byron's poems to accompany us; but she looked at me with somewhat of contempt, and coldly replied, "We have no ducks, sir; nor, indeed, any poultry whatever. Mamma does not like the noise they make. She intends getting a couple of swans for this sheet of water; but pa has been so busy making improvements, that he has not had time to order them from the mangerie."—" Well, but," said I,

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