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six hundred to two thousand four hundred francs; the public supply the expense of the illumination of the public buildings, bridges, churches, theatres, and monuments; as well as of houses occupied by men holding public offices. The river is covered by illuminated vessels, which, by their reflexion in the water, produce the most beautiful illusion. The population of Pisa `does not amount to more than 15,000 inhabitants, but it contains during the festival week, at least 200,000 persons, assembled together from distant parts of Italy and even from foreign countries: among them may be seen English and Africans, whose vessels are lying at anchor in the port of Leghorn. The whole of the quay of the Arno, which forms a sort of crescent from the gate of Allepiage to that of the sea, may be discovered at, a single glance, and forms a magnificent coup d'œil.

The Pisans give to these games an origin of great antiquity: the learned of their country affirm that the first ultramontane nations who invaded Italy, introduced there the custom of exercising the youth in feigned combats, vulgarly called in France petite guerre, and that in those remote times, the game of the bridge was established at Pisa. They are fond of boasting of the magnificence and good order displayed at these festivals in 1785, which, say they, excited the admiration of the king and queen of the the two Sicilies, of the Archduke Ferdinand, Governor of Austrian Lombardy, and of all the royal family of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Well may the remembrances awakened by these games be dear to the inhabitants of Pisa; they are all that remain to them of their former grandeur, glory, and wealth. Liverpool.

THE NUT-SHELL.

A. W.

FROM THE GERMAN OF MEISSNER, BY L. MAN, OF LIVERPOOL

[Translated expressly for the Kaleidoscope.]

The threads of the spider and of the silk-worm are very fine, but the threads which compose and connect the web of a man's fate are often still more delicate; and I have now to relate the shame and misery which were caused by the inconsiderate throw of a nut-shell.

a tone to which she had not been used, and which he not like. He had a particular objection to any thing t resembled command; and it struck him, that if the br dared to speak in such a manner, the wife might feel clined to persevere in it: he remained obstinate in his fusal of going forthwith; and he left the room, fort first time, with unpleasant feelings. Arrived at his horr he found, however, that he had been rather too positive that man (being the stronger) ought to indulge the weak creature, and he resolved to comply, on the next da with Amelia's request, provided she repeated it in softened style.

provided she could but dazzle, she cared not by what
means.
Bendorf was long wavering between these two stars;
and he would, perhaps, have had no objection to court
them both; but since it was necessary to make a choice,
his better genius decided at last for Amelia. He became
her declared lover, and it was perfectly understood that
the marriage would take place as soon as his predecessor
in the expected employment should be pleased to make
room for him by death or promotion. This decision was
no sooner known, than a considerable alteration took place
in the behaviour of the young man's acquaintances. The
fathers of marriageable daughters received his visits much The next morning Bendorf was just getting ready to
more coolly, and did not invite him so often to dinner as out, when Amelia's maid brought him a note, in wh
they had done before; the mothers thought that he had the fair one stated, that she was suddenly called out
been rather hasty in coming to a conclusion; the young town by the indisposition of an aunt, and that he m
ladies discovered that his nose was (after all) a little too make haste if he wished to see her before her departu
Roman, his figure too slender, and his conversation too but that she could only allow him to take leave, on
serious: some secret rivals even pretended to have learned express condition of his first settling the disagreea
that his official labours were not approved by his superiors. business of yesterday. This spoiled all: the young
Bendorf observed what was going on without being had been already determined to take the requested ste
much afflicted by it: he lived only for his Amelia; and but startled by this new instance of Amelia's haughtine
as he was soon after fortunate enough to obtain the situa- he set out for Julia's house, but with no very friendly fe
tion for which he had been waiting, his beloved fixed her-ings towards the former. He was forthwith admitted; a
self the time of their union at a month's distance. The the offended lady asssured him that the circumstance b
young man was in raptures, and he spent every spare already been half effaced from her memory before his
moment in the society of his bride. One fine afternoon rival, and that it should now be entirely obliterated.
he found her sitting at the open window, reading, and (at whispered a few words to her servant, and invited
intervals) cracking some filberts, which lay upon the table. gentleman to sit down. The conversation soon tool
He was very well received, and the book was soon laid pleasant turn; for Julia set all the brilliancy of her wi
aside both spoke of their approaching happiness, and work, in order to make herself an agreeable companio
Bendorf became so animated that he hardly knew what he and was the more successful in her endeavours, as Bend
was about: in his ecstasy he threw the nut-shells, one by had not been at all prepared for such a reception.
one, out of the window; but his companion had no sooner situation with Amelia made him moreover particula
perceived it, than she bid him to desist, and represented to anxious to kill a little of his time by a relieving divers
him the impropriety of the proceeding. He looked out of Time passed indeed so quickly, that dinner-hour was
the window, and withdrew his head with every mark of approaching, and Julia's father made his appearan
consternation: Amelia observed it, and anxious to know This was a good-natured old man, whom his only daugh
the extent of the misfortune, took a peep herself; but managed at pleasure, and who had already received i
what was her confusion, when she not only saw Miss Julia cue for the occasion: he was greatly rejoiced at the
Hilmer, with several of her friends, but heard, at the expected visit, and invited the visitor, in the most pe
same time, the following words:-"I am sure, I am very and pressing manner, to join a party of friends, whom
much obliged to you, Mr. Secretary; your gallantries are expected that day.
not very refined; but they may be very fashionable at the
university. Were you afraid of not being conspicuous
enough with your fair companion; and are you so deter-

:

Bendorf was a rash but deep-feeling youth, with strict notions of religion and rectitude; constant with male friends, but a little given to flirtation with female ones. He had just returned from the university with a well-mined to bring your intimacy into notice ?" furnished head, and a heart open to every thing good Bendorf had, since his engagement, renounced almost and beautiful. His candour in conversation, the origi- all female society except that of his betrothed; and Julia nality of his expressions, the elegance of his manners, and had been avoided by him with particular care; either behis courage in bidding defiance to prejudice, brought him cause he had no great confidence in his own strength of soon into notice. His male acquaintances (particularly mind, or because he had observed some slight seeds of the elder ones) sometimes shook their heads, and pro-jealousy in the otherwise very indulgent character of phesied him not much good; but there were others who Amelia. Julia, on the contrary, ever surrounded by adwould now and then encourage him with a half-whispered mirers, could not brook the idea of quietly giving up that bravo. With the ladies he was an acknowledged favou-solitary rebel Bendorf, and had tried all the arts of corite; and many great gentlemen, with richly-embroidered quetry to draw him into her snares: what wonder that she coats, were less listened to than the supernumerary young now looked upon his act as an intentional insult? Amelia Secretary: his criticisms were repeated by young females, was in despair; and her lover attempted, in vain, to tranand even the elder ones allowed that there was sense in quillize her with the trite maxim, that "whatever has what he said. He might have paid his addresses almost once happened cannot be undone." The affair became any where with hope of success, but two objects claimed still worse by the report of the servant, who had accihis particular attention. Amelia Mildau, amiable, hand-dentally been at door, and who had heard all the biting some, young, and rich, rivalled Julia Hilmer, who was remarks which had been produced by the dropping of a equally wealthy, and much handsomer, but less good-nut-shell on the pretty nose of a rival. Amelia foresaw natured.

Amelia seemed to be most fit for a happy domestic life, whilst Julia had all the qualities calculated to render her attractive in society; her sparkling wit displayed itself in almost every word she uttered, and her expressive mien supplied what little might have still been wanting in the poignancy of her remarks. She would have had talents to govern a country, and to ruin it too, had her charms attracted the notice of its prince. Amelia had more friends, but Julia had more admirers; the former was oftener praised, but the latter was oftener spoken of; and,

all the consequences of the event, and how bitterly Julia
would try to avenge herself, if she could not be persuaded
of their innocence. Bendorf admitted the correctness of
her statement; and he intended to seize the first opportu-
nity to make an apology, and to bring about a reconci-
liation: but all would not do. The alarmed belle insisted
on his going immediately, and she urged him to do so in
In Germany, young people are called bride and bride-
groom as soon as they are formally engaged to each other;
but the appellation does not extend beyond the day of mar-
riage.

Bendorf, however, now recollected Amelia and speedy departure; he thanked him for the intended civil but urged the absolute necessity of his waiting upen bride before she left town. Julia rallied the over punctuality of the faithful shepherd, questioned the rea of the mentioned excursion, and finally persuaded hir put off his farewell visit until after dinner. The exper guests arrived, and the company was as numerous as chosen: the dinner was good, the wine excellent, Bendorf, having Julia for his neighbour, soon forgot e thing but present enjoyment: he so well availed him of his neighbour's advances, and repaid them so liber by his refined compliments, that one of the other la asked him, in a whisper, how he would like a fait report of his behaviour to be sent to Miss Amelia Mild He became embarrassed at the malicious question, bu mustered up sufficient courage to reply that he did care. The remark had, nevertheless, the effect of rem ing him that it was high time for him to take his le and he firmly refused joining the company in an at noon's walk. Julia was obliged to content herself his promise of calling again, as soon as he should b liberty. He hastened to Amelia's house, and four chaise at the door: the servant told him that her mist had long been waiting for him, and that it would be fault if they had now to travel by night. He few stairs, and found Amelia walking to and fro with h steps; his awkward attempts at an apology were rece with a forced smile of indifference, and he was remin of his former glowing protestations, which his pre conduct did not at all verify. This remark confirmed in the already half-formed design of concealing the tr and he had the weakness to commit an unpardonable f

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raised him to a level with the nobles of the land; by na-
ture, if not by birth, he was the peer of Byron. I knew
one, and I have seen both; they rose by the force of their
wrote from a love, and the other from a scorn, of man-
genius, and they fell by the strength of their passions; one
kind; and they both sang of the emotions of their own
hearts with a vehemence and an originality which few
have equalled, and none surely have ever surpassed.
was tall and of a manly make, his brow broad and high,
The first time I ever saw Burns was in Nithsdale; he
and his voice varied with the character of his inimitable
tale; yet, through all its variations, it was melody itself.
He was of great personal strength, and proud too of dis-
playing it; and I have seen him lift a load with ease,
which few men would have willingly undertaken.
The first time I ever saw Byron was in the House of
Lords, soon after the publication of "Childe Harold."
He stood up in his place on the opposition side, and made
a speech on the subject of Catholic freedom. His voice
was low, and I heard him but by fits; and when I say he
luntary mirth of the benches, as from what I heard with
was witty and sarcastic, I judge as much from the invo-
my own ears. His voice had not the full and manly me-
lody of the voice of Burns; nor had he equal vigour of
frame, nor the same open expanse of forehead. But his
face was finely formed, and was impressed with a more
delicate vigour than that of the peasant poet. He had a
singular conformation of ear; the lower lobe, instead of
being pendulous, grew down and united itself to the cheek,
and resembled no other ear I ever saw, save that of the
Duke of Wellington.

When Burns died I was then young, but I was not insensible that a mind of no common strength had passed from amongst us. He had caught my fancy and touched him laid out for the grave; several eldern people were my heart with his songs and his poems. I went to see with me. He lay in a plain, unadorned coffin, with a linen sheet drawn over his face; and on the bed, and around the body, herbs and flowers were thickly strewn, somewhat by long illness; but death had not increased according to the usage of the country. He was wasted the swarthy hue of his face, which was uncommonly dark and deeply marked-the dying pang was visible in the lower part, but his broad and open brow was pale and serene, and around it his sable hair lay in masses, slightly touched with grey, and inclining more to a wave than a curl. The room where he lay was plain and neat, and the simplicity of the poet's humble dwelling pressed the presence of death more closely on the heart, than if his bier had been embellished by vanity and covered with the blazonry of high ancestry and rank. We stood and gazed went, and others succeeded us-there was no jostling and on him in silence for the space of several minutes-we crushing, though the crowd was great-man followed man as patiently and orderly as if all had been a matter of mutual understanding-not a question was asked-not a whisper was heard. This was several days after his death. The multitude who accompanied Burns to the grave went step by step with the chief mourners; they might amount to twelve thousand. Not a word was heard; and though all could not be near, and many could not see, when the earth closed on their darling poet for ever, there expressed. It was an impressive and mournful sight to was no rude impatience shown, no fierce disappointment see men of all ranks and persuasions and opinions mingling as brothers, and stepping side by side down the streets of Dumfries, with the remains of him who had sang of their loves and joys and domestic endearments, with a truth and could, indeed, have wished the military part of the proa tenderness, which none, perhaps, have since equalled. cession away, for he was buried with military honours. His fate has been a reproach to Scotland. But the reproach comes with an ill grace from England. When we and Chatterton's poison cup, we may think that we stand can forget Butler's fate, Ötway's loaf, Dryden's old age, alone in the iniquity of neglecting pre-eminent genius.. I found myself at the brink of the poet's grave, into which he was about to descend for ever; there was a pause among the mourners as if loath to part with his remains; and earth sounded on his coffin-lid, I looked up and saw tears when he was at last lowered, and the first shovelful of on many cheeks where tears were not usual. The volunteers justified the fears of their comrade by three ragged and straggling volleys. The earth was heaped up, the green sod was laid over him, and the multitude stood melted silently away. The day was a fine one, the sun gazing on the grave for some minutes' space, and then was almost without a cloud, and not a drop of rain fell from dawn to twilight.

from the Browwell of Solway; he had been ailing all
The last time I saw Burns in life, was on his return
spring, and summer had come without bringing health
with it; he had gone away very ill, and he returned worse.
He was brought back, I think, in a covered spring cart,
and when he alighted at the foot of the street in which he
door with difficulty. He stooped much, and there was a I
lived, he could scarce stand upright. He reached his own
visible change in his looks. He was at that time dressed
in a blue coat, with the undress nankeen pantaloons of the
volunteers, and his neck, which was inclining to be short,
shovel hats of the episcopal clergy. He was not fastidious
caused his hat to turn up behind, in the manner of the
about his dress; and an officer, curious in the personal
appearance and equipments of his company, might have
questioned the military nicety of the poet's clothes and
arms.

for the sake of hiding a venial one. He stammered someating about an invitation, which it would have been impossible to refuse; and when Amelia repeated the imposk with emphasis, he named one of his superiors in efice, whom he pretended to have met at his leaving Julia the morning, and who had invited him to dinner for the sake of having a long conversation on business. Having once said so much, he launched out into a description of the man's remarkable irritability, and of the great injury which the anger of such an individual might do to his future prospects; but Amelia stopped him short, by first sarcastically inviting him not to set up for a rival of La Bruyere in the drawing of characters; and then asking him whether he did not think it the greatest offence imaginable, when one person attempted to make another believe an absolute falsehood. The young man stared; but the lady told him very coolly, that she was already informed of his having dined at Julia's, and of his having been the life and soul of the whole company: she added, that she would bave forgiven it, if he had made an honest confession; but that, after what he had done now, she could only request him to leave her house, and never to trouble her again in any manner whatsoever. She left him after these words, and bolted the door after her. Bendorf made some vain attempts to get admittance; and, whilst he was still addressing his entreaties to the empty room, he heard the chaise setting off, and perceived that the irritated fair one had taken her egress through a cabinet which opened towards the stairs. He became angry in his turn, and resolved not to bear such treatment; he rushed out of the house, and hastened to get out of town, in order to dissipate his grief a little in the open air: he ran on without looking at any body, and was not a little astonished at his being suddenly stopped by some female hands, whilst loud bursts of laughter saluted him from all sides. He found himself in the midst of the very company which he had been invited to join before. The ladies now took formal and forcible possession of his body, and would not allow him to say a word in defence of his liberty. Perceiving that resistance would be useless, he submitted quietly to his fate, which, after all, did not appear to be so very hard; for his recent quarrel with his bride added new lustre to the charms of Julia, who immediately joined him, and engaged him anew in so lively a conversation, that he would not even have remarked the chaise, by which they were overtaken, if his fair companion had not herself ordered him to wave his hat and cheer his Dulcines. He stood motionless, like a boy who is caught in the very act of playing truant. Amelia had been de- His good humour was unruffled, and his wit never for- A few select friends and admirers followed Lord Byron tained by a friend, who was to accompany her, and she sook him. He looked to one of his fellow volunteers with to the grave. His coronet was borne before him, and We likewise surprised at finding her discarded beau so said, "John, don't let the awkward squad fire over me." a smile, as he stood by the bedside with his eyes wet, and there were many indications of his rank; but, save the quickly consoled; but she mustered up as much contempt He was aware that death was dealing with him; he asked conformity to a singular practice of the great, a long train' "assembled multitude, no indications of his genius. In her naturally soft features could express, to congratulate a lady who visited him, more in sincerity than in mirth, of their empty carriages followed the mourning coaches, kum, sneeringly, on his good fortune, and to remind him what commands she had for the other world. He re- mocking the dead with idle state, and impeding the of the request which she had had the honour of making: them he had lived long enough. As his life drew near a Where were the owners of those machines of sloth and pressed, with a smile, the hopes of his friends, and told honester sympathy of the crowd with barren pageantry. the then urged the postillion to drive on, and Julia ex- close, the eager, yet decorous solicitude of his fellow- luxury? Where were the men of rank among whose dark daimed, "How is this? have you been quarrelling? I townsmen increased. He was an exciseman, it is true,- pedigrees Lord Byron threw the light of his genius, and hope it was not on my account? and yet, when I consider a name odious, from many associations, to his country- gave the brows of nobility a halo to which they were stranAmelia's jealousy, and your stay with us this afternoon, men-but he did his duty meekly and kindly, and re-gers? Where were the great Whigs? Where were the ilsurdly it must be so, and I am very sorry." "So am not I, pressed, rather than encouraged, the desire of some of his lustrious Tories? Could a mere difference in matters of fretorted Bendorf, who felt extremely provoked at the fore much beloved; and the passion of the Scotch for above all, where were the friends with whom wedlock had companions to push the law with severity; he was there- human belief keep those fastidious persons away? But, publicity of the reprimand he had received,) I have for poetry made them regard him as little lower than a united him? On his desolate corpse no wife looked, and Rever been in a better humour," he continued; and he spirit inspired. It is the practice of the young men of no child shed a tear. When the career of Burns was actually endeavoured to make good his assertion by enter-mission from labour, and by these means I had an oppor- helpless sons; they came into the streets in their mourn. Dumfries to meet in the streets, during the hours of re- closed, I saw another sight-a weeping widow and four ang with full spirit into the amusements of the evening, tunity of witnessing the general solicitude of all ranks ings, and public sympathy was awakened afresh. I shall and by rendering himself as agreeable as he possibly could. and of all ages. His differences with them, in some im- never forget the looks of his boys, and the compassion [To be continued.] portant points of human speculation and religious hope, which they excited. The poet's life had not been without were forgotten and forgiven; they thought only of his errors, and such errors too as a wife is slow in forgiving; genius, of the delight his compositions had diffused; and but he was honoured then, and is honoured now, by the they talked of him with the same awe as of some depart- unalienable affection of his wife-and the world repays ing spirit, whose voice was to gladden them no more. His her prudence and her love by its regard and esteem. last moments have never been described; he had laid his attendant reminded him of his medicine, and held the cup head quietly on the pillow, awaiting dissolution, when his to his lip. He started suddenly up, drained the cup at gulp, threw his hands before him, like a man about to swim, and springing from head to foot of the bed, fell with his face down, and expired with a groan.

ROBERT BURNS AND LORD BYRON.

(From the London Magazine.)

I have seen Robert Burns laid in his grave, and I have George Gordon Byron borne to his. One was a pea St and the other was a peer; but nature is a great leveller, and makes amends for the injuries of fortune by the richness of her benefactions: the genius of Burns

untimely death, Dumfries was like a besieged place. It
From the day of his return home, till the hour of his
was known he was dying, and the anxiety, not of the rich
and the learned only, but of the mechanics and peasants,
exceeded all belief. Wherever two or three people stood
together, their talk was of Burns, and of him alone; they
family-of his fame, and of his untimely and approach-
spoke of his history-of his person-of his works-of his
ing fate, with a warmth and an enthusiasm which will
ever endear Dumfries to my remembrance.

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Burns, with all his errors in faith and in practice, was where he resided; no one thought of closing the churchlaid in hallowed earth, in the church-yard of the town gates against his body, because of the freedom of his poetry, and the carelessness of his life. And why was not Byron laid among the illustrious men of England, in Westminster Abbey ?

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GENTLEMEN, A few evenings ago I chanced to cast my eye over a jeu d'esprit, entitled "Address to the Echo," which appeared, I believe, originally, in the London Magazine of this month, and has thence found its way into a multiplicity of our public journals. It may be the height of presumption to criticise any composition, emanating from the literary galaxy of the metropolis, and it is, therefore, with fear and trembling that I presume to offer it as my humble opinion, that the aforesaid address to Echo is not absolutely perfect. The nymph, who has condescended to reply to the interrogatories of the rhyming lover, must have been that identical Irish echo, who, when asked "How do you do?" replied "Very well, thank you!" To my ear, at least, such a response is fully as legitimate as the following, selected from the dialogue under consideration-Celibacy, silly Bessy!-Common dressed, come undressed-Property, proper tie-Seize her, you'd see, sir, &c.

It may be the fault of my ear, but I cannot, for the life of me, reconcile those accomodating responses; as all the echoes I have conversed with are most scrupulously faithful in replication.

Well, Gentlemen, after reading, or, I believe, in the very act of reading, the jeu d'esprit in question, I fell asleep, and had a strange dream, which I shall briefly relate.

Methought I was sauntering by moonlight in a romantic wood, in which there was a remarkably fine Echo, when I perceived a female pass into the most shady part of the grove. She entered into a dialogue with Echo, which, as it was very brief, I was enabled to transcribe after I awoke. The damsel, although I could not very clearly distinguish her form, must have been of low degree by her provincial accent, and the rustic names of her admirers. With this preamble, I shall proceed to narrate the dialogue, which was as follows:

Sweet Echo, no longer I single will tarry,
Of all my admirers, pray which shall I marry?

ECHO-Harry.

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Strange! Echo, that thus you should still thwart my whim,
Pray, would you advise me to marry young Tim?
ECHO-Him?

And why not? for Tim has the good ready penny;
Of my lovers, who's better, pray, out of the many?
ECHO-Any.
What say you to John? An estate he has got,
And none in profession of love is as hot.

ECHO He's a sot. Then, there's Hodge, and there's Roger, and Lubin, and Joe, Shall I turn a deaf ear to them all, and say, no?

ECHO-Say, "No."

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The piece alluded to in the preface to the foregoing, is subjoined.

AN ADDRESS TO THE ECHO.
(From the London Magazine.)

If I address the Echo yonder,
What will its answer be, I wonder?
Echo I wonder !

O wondrous Echo, tell me, bless'e,
Am I for marriage, or for celibacy?
Echo Silly Bessy!

If then to win the maid I try,
Shall I find her a property?
Echo-A proper tie!

If neither being grave nor funny
Will win the maid to matrimony?
Echo-Try money!

If I should try to gain her heart,
Shall I go plain, or rather smart?

Echo-Smart!

She mayn't love dress, and I again then
May come too smart, and she'll complain then!
Echo-Come plain then!

To please her most, perhaps 'tis best
To come as I'm in common dress'd?
Echo-Come undress'd!

Then if to marry me I teaze her,
What will she say if that should please her?
Echo-Please, sir!

When cross and good words can't appease her,
What if such naughty whims should seize her?
Echo-You'd see, sir!

When wed, she'll change, for Love's no sticker,
And love her husband less than liquor?
Echo-Then lick her!

To leave me then I can't compel her,
Though every woman else excel her?
Echo-Sell her!

The doubting youth to Echo turn'd again, Sir,
To ask advice, but found it did not answer.

STANZAS.

And was it but a fleeting shade,
A mocking form of bliss,
In garb of loveliness arrayed,
Resembling happiness?
And was it but a meteor light,
An ignis fatuus ray,-

A vision of the dreamy night,
That filed with opening day?

It was no more!—and mortal love,
And friendship, scarce less dear,
Alas! what is it? sent to prove

How false are all things here!

And earthly hopes, like human weal, Though dazzling bright they be, Will still from our embraces steal, Treacherous as summer sea!

And all that round the heart entwines,
And bids it cling to life,

The severing hand of Time unbinds,
With keen, unpitying knife.

And happy they, whose hopes are fixed
Beyond the reach of change;
And, contemplating joys unmixed,

Through bowers of light can range.
But not the poet's fragile bower
Of glittering Arcady;
Ah, no! more firm in stormy hour,
The soul's support must be:

And blessed they, thrice-blest their lot, Who, weaned from earthly love, Repose on that which altereth not, Secure in realms above!

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THE FATHER'S LAMENT WHILST KEEPING WATC OVER HIS DEAD INFANT'S BODY.

He came he look'd around, and died:
Sweet little innocent!

His Father's hope, his Mother's pride,
His Sister's merriment!

He turned his little eyes to heaven
As to a place well-known;
As if his spirit there had thriven,
And down to earth had flown.
Sorrow and he were not akin

He smiled e'en from his birth:
But that to say so were a sin,

He seem'd too good for earth!

Two months he liv'd in happiness,
No tear his eye-balls shed;
What sweetness did his smile express!
But now that smile is filed!

If that thou wert of Cherubim
Come down to visit earth,
Thou chauntest now the holy hymn,
In realms of bliss and mirth!
But no! I doat! that could not be !
Thou wert of mortals born;
Short-lived was thy mortality!

Ah! brief thy young life's morn!
Soon thou art gone, my lovely child!
Where all would wish to go;

I hear the night wind's whistle wild
Mocking a Father's woe!

Oh, could I melt my soul to tears,
Within thy coffin shed,

And bid adieu to pains and fears,
To share thy grassy bed.

Ah, happier far than here to dwell,
Left, my sweet child, by thee!
Down, thought engender'd in the depths of Hell!
Oh, God, pray pardon me!

Farewell! my child-to-morrow's sun

Will shine upon thy sod!

Thy mortal part it's course has run,
Thy soul returns to God!

Oh, Lord! be my past sins forgiven!
And grace upon me pour!

So may I meet my boy in Heaven,
And meet to part no more!

LEIGH WALDEGRAVL

TO THE EDITOR

SIR,-Should the following find favour in your eyes, the insertion of it in the Kaleidoscope (with which a few little attempts of mine have been lately honoured) will oblige A SCHOOL BOY.

EPIGRAM.

Δακρύει Φείδων ὁ φιλάργυρος, εχ ὅτι θνησκεί, ̓Αλλ ότι πεντε μνῶν την σορον επρίατο.

TRANSLATION.

The miserly Phidon is crying,

But it is not because he is dying,

But because he has just now been buying

A coffin:-and zounds!

It cost him five pounds!

So the miserly Phidon is crying.

SONNET,

FROM THE ITALIAN OF PETRARCH.

Beautiful bird! that in the twilight singing,
Strayest beneath the dark and wintry sky,
Mourning the dreams around thy spirit clinging
With the reflected light of days gone by;
Oh! could'st thou know my griefs, in secret springing,
Even as thine own, how swiftly would'st thou fly
Here to this desolate heart!--some solace bringing
Each, by dividing what in each may lie:

I know not, if the lots would equal be,
For she may live that draws thine inward tears,
Which envious heaven and death deny to me;
But the dear season, and the day's decline,
With memory of sweet and bitter years,
Invite
my soul to sympathy with thine.

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The Philanthropist.

(From the Liverpool Mercury.)

HYDROPHOBIA, REAL OR IMAGINARY, AND THE
MEASURES ADOPTED IN CONSEQUENCE OF THE
PREVAILING PANIC.

"Their manner of knowing whether a dog be mad or no, somewhat resembles the ancient European custom of trying witches. The old woman suspected was tied hand and foot, and thrown into the water. If she swam, then she was instantly carried off to be burnt for a witch, if she sunk, then Indeed she was acquitted of the charge, but drowned in the experiment. In the same manner a crowd gather round a voted animal on every side; if he attempts to stand upon the defence and bite, then he is unanimously found guilty, for a

dog suspected of madness, and they begin by teazing the de

mad dog always snaps at every thing; if, on the contrary, he strives to escape by running away, then he can expect no compassion, for mad dogs always run straight forward before them."-Goldsmith's Citizen of the World.

That very amusing and industrious writer, D'Israel in the second volume of his Curiosities of Literature, pag 473, relates the following case:

With respect to the connexion between the bite of a dog and the dreadful disease of hydrophobia, were we to declare ourselves sceptics, our opinion can have little weight upon such a subject; we take this occasion, "A man in a burning fever, leaning over his bed-sid however, to observe, that we know medical men, of pointed to the chamber door, begging he might swim i high professional character, superior education, and ex-in that lake, and then he should be cool. The physicia tensive reading and practice, who do not hesitate to humored the conceit; the patient walked carefully abou express their total disbelief in the connexion to which we the room, seemed to feel the water ascend, till he declared have alluded; not that they doubt the presence of those himself perfectly cool, and was so found." dreadful symptoms and spasmodic affections which are generally supposed to be peculiar to hydrophobia :-unfortunately, the melancholy cases of this description are too numerous and too well authenticated to be questioned: but although they feel themselves compelled to acknowledge that a certain effect has been produced, and even that a dog had bitten the individual upon whom that effect was produced, it by no means follows that they must regard the dog and the disease as cause and effect, especially when, as professional men, they are aware, that symptoms precisely similar to those of hydrophobia have accompanied violent inflammations and hysterical fits, where there has not been the slightest suspicion of canine

infection."

If it be true that symptoms of real disease can be re lieved by an effort of the imagination, it is still mor notorious and undeniable, that certain predicated or ant cipated symptoms or results may be brought on also b the imagination of persons even of sane mind. W

Dutch doctors are also of opinion, that certain cases of hy drophobia which have occurred, notwithstanding no in stance of canine madness was ever known on the island may be attributed to climate, and the state of the crust The dread of Hydrophobia was never, in our recollectution as affected by it. The bite of the large Indian ra commonly called the Bandicoot, is supposed to occasion tion, so prevalent and general as at this time. It appears hydrophobia and certain death; an opinion which, I un to have spread simultaneously from one extremity of the derstand, is also entertained on the coast of Malabar. Th kingdom to the other; probably in consequence of the bite of an enraged man is said to be as certain of producing presumed connection between this disease and the prevaWhatever may be thought of the light in which we hydrophobia as that of a mad dog, two cases of which he happened not long before our arrival. One of them being lence of sultry weather, a connection for which there view this subject, our opinions, whether just or ill found-stated by Dr. Le Dulx, in the 5th volume of the Treas does not appear to be any rational foundation, as hydro-ed, can do no possible harm; on the contrary, they are cal-actions of the Batavian Society, a work little known is phobia is wholly unknown in many tropical countries, Europe, I shall use no apology for inserting a translatica where the dogs are very apt to perish from exhaustion of it." occasioned by heat and want of water. We have been informed by gentlemen, who have resided both in Constantinople and in Lisbon, that although dogs are extremely numerous in both those cities, the disease which we call the hydrophobia is altogether unknown there; and Dr. Hunter informs us, that although dogs are more numerous in Jamaica than in any other part of the world, hy. drophobia is never heard of in that island. There is, perhaps, no disease, respecting which so much ignorance prevails as that which is supposed to be communicated by the bite of a rabid animal; and ninety-nine persons out of a hundred believe, that dogs labouring under that ma. lady avoid and loath water, whereas there is nothing which they so eagerly seek for.

The panic so prevalent at present must be our apology for the observations we are about to make upon a subject in which we feel a deep interest, on account of our habitual attachment to dogs, and our regret and indignation at the barbarous mode resorted to in order to annihilate these faithful companions of the human race. We do not intend to convey the slightest reproach to our worthy Mayor in consequence of the orders he has recently issued on the subject; neither is it our present business to question the right of the magistrates to enforce a regulation which has, unquestionably, been adopted for the general good, and upon such evidence of its necessity as left them no alternative. It is the manner in which these orders have been occasionally executed that we have protested against, and still do protest against.

We have, in another column, inserted a letter on this subject from a correspondent. In addition to which, we

culated, as far as our influence extends, to allay, in some
degree, the general panic, which is almost as bad as the
disease, in the apprehension of which it has originated. Our
observations will not have a tendency to relax the precau-
tions against hydrophobia, but they may be the means of
conveying consolation to some of our fellow-creatures la-
bouring under the most frightful apprehensions that can
haunt the human mind. Under this impression, we shall
proceed to state our opinions with all becoming diffidence.
The minute details of the sufferings and deaths of per-
sons afflicted with hydrophobia are so truly terrific, that
it is by no means impossible that the imagination of a
weak person, of bad habit of body, who has been bitten by
a dog, may be so powerfully affected, as to induce all
those frightful symptoms which he has been prepared to
expect as the inevitable consequences of the bite of a rabid
animal. That such consequences may result from mere
apprehension, especially where the patient is labouring
under raging fever, will hardly be pronounced impossible,
or even highly improbable, by those who know how
powerfully the mind acts upon the body; nor is it more
difficult to believe that a disease may be produced by
apprehension, than that it may be cured or allayed by
imagination. Many instances may be adduced of the
latter phenomenon; one of which we shall select in illus
tration of the theory in which we have the presumption
to indulge.†

immersion in mephetic gas, or the effluvia from the pyrolyg-
neous acid works, which may be produced in any quantity at
a very trifling cost.

We do not now recollect the name of the gentleman
who saw the dog put under the cart-wheel; but if this note
should meet his eye, we request he will communicate his ad-

dress, and if he would verify the fact to our respectable chief
magistrate, it will probably be the means of preventing the
recurrence of a similar outrage.

It is marked

usual

in the

"On the 17th March, 1789, information was laid be fore the court of justice that the writer, Balthazar Va Vliet, in a fit of madness, had plunged a knife into his bowels. The court proceeded to the place without delay. attended by the town surgeon, Lombart, where they found the patient, by direction of the surgeon attending him, bound, and in strong convulsions, particularly of the eyes. The family, being interrogated as to the origin of his complaint, related, that, four or five days previous a the act, the patient had a quarrel with a friend, which proceeded to a furious scuffle, when his antagonist, finding himself not a match for the patient, in the moment of rage bit him in the arm. The wound was bound dreadful consequences which a bite thus made, in the beat way, without the least idea being entertained of the of passion, was capable of producing. Three days after this happened the patient was attacked with fever: bat still no particular regard was had to the wound. The s geon who attended him observed that he was in a state continued delirium; that he had a great antipathy to every kind of medicine; and, in particular, a strong aversion water. On the fourth day the surgeon, on entering apartment, found him stabbing himself repeatedly with knife. With some difficulty they seized and bound b down on a sofa. On the town surgeon being sent for, he offered him a spoonful of water, which he refused; on being told it was gin, he endeavoured, with great culty, to swallow it. When a glass of water was presented to him, the most ghastly spasmodic convulsions were h servable in his face, and over his whole body, accompari with such a degree of terror, that he exclaimed, "We Oh! Jesus, have mercy on me!" His terror increased c wiping his bloody hands with a wet napkin, when, in cor vulsive agonies, he called out, "Oh! God; wal! Perceiving clearly that hydrophobia had supervened fr the bite received in anger, we resolved to treat him acc ingly; but he died in the afternoon of the same day."

can state, on very good authority, that one of the rufflans engaged as a dog-butcher, after having beaten a poor animal in the most wanton and savage manner, actually In many circumstances the Tetanus bears a considerable put its head under the wheel of a cart which was pasresemblance to Rabsès, and has doubtless been mistaken for sing along, and thus despatched his victim. It may be said that it was an act of mercy thus to put an end to the sufit. This, most violent of all diseases, is most frequently ferings of the poor animal, and this may be true; but we conoccasioned by slight wounds, especially about the hands and It seldom appears till after some tend that it is disgraceful to civilized society, and highly detri- other tendenous parts. mental to the public morals, to permit such scenes to be wit-time has elapsed, and the wound has healed. nessed in the public streets: neither can the necessity for the by paroxims of violent general spasms, beginning in the act be contended, as the object for which the recent orders neck and throat, and accompanied by difficulty of swallow-feeder of cocks, who, being pecked in the hand by one have been issued, might be accomplished in another manner. ing, &c.-Recs's Cyclopedia. When the dogs are captured they might be removed to some convenient place of security, to be claimed by their respective owners, upon payment of a certain fine, and producing a certificate that the dog-tax had been paid; the owner of the dog to be subject to a heavier fine if his dog was found abroad

a second time. At all events, if dogs found at large must be destroyed, they ought to be put to death in the most merciful way; and a very effectual and instantaneous mode would be

+ The subjoined extracts from Barrow's Cochin-China are so much in point, that we have transcribed them, in order to show that hydrophobia exists in countries where canine madness is unknown:

To this relaxed state of the body may certainly be attributed the fatality attending many disorders which in Europe are not considered to be dangerous. The prick of a pin or a needle will sometimes occasion a lock-jaw. The

That the bite of a man is attended with very mahe nant symptoms was a doctrine which prevailed in ancient times. Pliny classes it among the very worst of wounds given in this manner. Morsus hominum inter asperrima quoque numeratur. And it appears to be a well authenticated fact, that many animals, beside dogs, when highly errared, become morbid, and acquire the power of communicating the infection by their bite. Dr. Le Dulx mentions, in t same paper, several instances of hydrophobia succe to the bite of enraged animals, as the case of a boy bit a duck which he had disturbed in its amours; and of these animals, in separating it from its antagonist, die under every symptom of hydrophobia and madness. The bite of the common domestic cat, rendered furious by p vocation, is well known to produce hydrophobia. In what manner this extraordinary state of morbidity in the ant mal body is generated remains yet an arcanum in arin pathology; but it is pretty evident that the poison is creted by the salivary glands, and conveyed into the c culation with the spittle of the morbid animal."

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