"My dear friends, the terrible disaster which I am now about to relate to you, is, perhaps, one of the most extraordinary circumstances that has happened to the lot of man. Dreadful and appalling in it's effects, the impression it has made upon me, time has in vain endeavoured to efface. The adventure of which I speak, took place as I was returning home from a visit at a friend's. My road homewards led through a deep shady lane at the edge of my friend's park,—it was a stormy night-the gusty wind rushed violently through the tangled trees, and roared along the deep avenues of the park. The branches crackled and swung against each other, and ever and anon, at some biast wilder and stronger than the rest, clashed and re-choed with all the noise of a violent clap of thunder. It was towards the latter end of Autum. The sear and red leaves already fallen, and those which, the evening before, had hung quivering and trembling in expectation of the next gust carrying them away, were whirled and dashed about in the air, in wreathes of various forms. The road was muddy and splashy, and the heavy rain fell in tremendous showers at short intervals. My friend had wished me to stay all night, but particular business requiring my attendanc very early the next morning, I set off in despite of all their kind ent eaties. My servants preceded me with lanteras, but the wind was so boisterous that it soon extinguished the light, and they were rendered useless. The storm now began to abate, but the hollow piping wind roared on unceasingly The noise that it made was unlike any sound I had heard before, it was worse than the rude chafing and boiling of the breakers against a rock; louder than the rushing of the strongest cataract lashing itself to fury. My servants now came to me; they were certain they heard deep groans at a little distance; I myself thought I heard something, but whether it was the wind that made the noise, for it indeed howled strangely, or the groans of a human being, I was unable to conjecture. The place we had now arrived at, would indeed of itself, have been, at such a time of night, sufficient to alarm many a stout bosom. It was close bordering the ruins of the old abbey, This, proverbially, was haunted, and few durst stray near it's limits after the edge of dark. It was now midnight, and the fitful blasts were whistling through the sombre trees that skirted its ruins. We listened in fear to the terrible sound. The lightning, which had before gleamed athwart the gloomy sky at distant intervals, now shot down in frequent and repeated flashes, and revealed to me the blanched and pallid countenances of my companions. The deep voice of the thunder became deeper and louder, as it rolled in tremendous peals over our heads. The whole heavens seemed in a commotion; vast rifting clouds rolled along, lighted up by the brilliant flashes of lightning that passed through them. The flickering forms of the waving trees, that nodded their gloomy heads at the will of the blast, the shrieking and screaming of the disturbed rooks, and the roar of the tumbling river at a distance, completed the scene. Ever and anon the moon might be partially visible, as the dense clouds were rent open, and then she appeared of a fiery red colour; the stars were completely obscured;-the vast clouds curtained up and shrouded them completely. Our way lay through the abbey. I confess it was no pleasant undertaking, but we were now necessitated to it. We proceeded slowly, for the road was rugged and uneven something whirred past us with a screaming noise ;--oh, how my heart bounded-still we kept on: we had not arrived where the largest pile of ruins lay. A many dark deep chambers, choked up with weeds, brambles, and crumbling stones, lay beside us. A deep groan now burst upon our ears, and rivetted us to the spot,-it seemed to proceed from one of the vaults near us ;—we listened breathlessly;-it was repeated from a different quarter; we were almost chilled with horror, and fear rooted us to the place ;-presently we heard the clanking rattling noise of chains, and a figure, swathed in the mouldering habiliments of the grave, issued from one of the recesses. My servants gave a convulsive scream, and fell senseless on the earth. I was in a much worse condition: a clammy cold sweat burst from my brow,-my mouth became as dry as dust, and my tongue clove fixedly to my palate. I could not stir;-my eyes were turned with a strong gaze on the spectre but I could not move-every faculty was absorbed in the contemplation of this dreadful object, and I remained rooted to the spot. But the worst was yet to come. The spectre was of a gigantic size-and flashes of fire darted from it's eyeless scull, as it waved it's lean gaunt arms to bid me depart, the blast blew aside it's blood-stained garment and revealed what appeared, in the dimness, to be human bones. A smothered diabolical laugh burst from it-it began to move towards me-but I could not stir-when a terrible stream of fire burst from the aperture from which it had arisen. I was amazed at this, and expected to be swallowed up every instant. Two men now sprung up behind the spectre, and they all three took to their heels with a roar of laughter. 'Is that all,' said the captain. ANECDOTE OF THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE. A laughable story was circulated during the Duke of Newcastle's administration, and which, with whatever scepticism the reader may be disposed to regard it, is too amusing to be past over in silence. At the election of a borough in Cornwall, where the ministerial and opposition interests were so equally poised that a single vote was of the utmost importance, a person not expected to give his suffrage in favour of the aristocratical side of the question, suddenly altered his mind, and by his apostacy turned the tide of affairs completely to the satisfaction of the Duke, whose friend and dependant was elected, and the contest put an end to by the possessor of the casting vote. In the warmth of gratitude for aid so gratuitous and unexpected, the Duke poured forth many acknowledgments and professions of friendship in the ear of the vacillating constituent, and frequently begged to be informed in what manner he could serve him, and how he could repay an obligation he was pleased to acknowledge so important. The happy voter, who was a farmer and petty landholder in the neighbourhood, thanked the Duke cordially for his kindness, and told him that the supervisor of excise was old and infirm, and if he would have the goodness to recommend his son-in-law to the commissioners in case of the old man's death, he should think himself and his family bound to render government every assistance in their power on any future occasion.' My dear friend, why do you ask for such a trifling employment?' exclaimed his Grace; your relation shall have it at a word speaking, the moment it is vacant.' But how shall I get admitted to you, my Lord; for in London I understand it is a very difficult business to get a sight of you great folk, though you are so kind and complaisant to us in the country?' The instant the man dies,' replied the premier, used to, and prepared for the freedoms of a contested election, the moment he dies, set out post haste for London; drive directly to my house, by day or night, sleeping or waking, ill or well; thunder at the door; I will leave word with my porter to shew you up stairs directly, and the employment shall be disposed of according to your wishes without fail.' The parties separated, and it is probable that the Duke of Newcastle in a very few hours forgot there was such a worthy as the Cornish voter in existence. Not so with the place-anticipating elector; his memory, cumbered with a less perplexing variety of objects than the Duke's, turned out to be the most retentive of the two. The supervisor yielded in a few months afterwards to that most insatiable and scrutinizing of all gaugers, Death; and the ministerial partizan, rely ing on the word of the peer, was conveyed to London by the mail, and having ascended the steps of a large house (now divided into three) at the corner of Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, thundered at the door!' It should in this place be premised, that precisely at the moment when the expectation of a considerable party of a borough in Cornwall were excited by the death of a supervisor, no less a person than the king of Spain was expected hourly to depart; an event in which all Europe, but more especially Great Britain, was materially interested. The Duke of Newcastle, on the very night that the proprietor of the decisive vote was at his door, had sat up, anxiously expecting dispatches from Madrid; wearied, however, by official business, he retired to rest, having previously given instructions to his porter not to go to bed, as he expected every minute a messenger with advices of the greatest importance, and desired that he might be shewn up stairs the moment of his arrival. His Grace had just fallen asleep, when the loud rap of his friend from Cornwall saluted his ear, and effectually dispelled his slumbers. To the first question of Is the Duke at home?' (it was two o'clock in the morning) the porter answered, 'Yes, and in bed; but has left particular orders that come when you will you are to go up to him directly. God for ever bless him, a worthy and honest gentleman!' exclaimed the mediator for the vacant supervisorship, smiling and nodding with approbation at a prime minister's so accurately keeping his promise. How punctual his Grace is! I knew he would not deceive me let me hear no more of lords and dukes not keeping their words-I verily believe they are honest as well as other folk.' Repeating these words as he strided up the stairs, the burgess of Cornwall was ushered into the Duke's bed-chamber. Is he dead?' enquired his Grace, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awaked from dreaming of the King of Spain, Is he dead?' Yes, my Lord,' replied the eager expectant, delighted to find that the election promise was so fresh in the minister's recollection. When did he die?' The day before yesterday, exactly at half-past one o'clock, after being confined three weeks to his bed, and taking a power of doctor's stuff; and I hope your Grace will be as good as your word, and let my son-in-law succeed him!' The Duke, by this time perfectly awake, was staggered at the impossibility of receiving intelligence from Madrid in so short a space of time, and perplexed at the absurdity of a king's messenger apply. ing for his son-in-law to succeed the King of Spain. Is the man drunk or mad? where are your dispatches?' vociferated his Grace, hastily drawing aside the curtains of the bed; when, instead of a royal courier, he recognized the fat, good-humoured countenance of his friend from Cornwall, making low bows, with hat in hand, and hoping my Lord would not forget the gracious promise he was so good as to make in favour of my son-in-law at the late election.' Vexed at so untimely in interruption, and disappointed of his important dispatches from Spain, the Duke frowned for a few seconds, but chagrin soon gave way to mirth at so singular and ridiculous a combina tion of apposite circumstances, and he sunk on the bed in a violent fit of laughter, to the entire discomfiture and confusion of the pliant and obsequious farmer, who very probably began to conjecture, that lords and dukes were not in the habit of testifying that profound respect at the sight of their friends which he thought consistent with their nobility of de portment. However, though his Grace could not manage to place the son of his old acquaintance on the throne of his Catholic Majesty the King of Spain, he advanced him to a post which some persons might consider not less honourable-he made him an exeiseman. TO THE EDITOR. pay due attention to this interesting subject, and JEREMY ANTIQ. THEB. OD YOFBEN. JAM INFRAN KLINP RINT. ERLI. KETHEC. overo S.C.O.N TENTSTOR. NOUTANDS TERIN. GANDGIL. DINGLI ESHEREF. O. ODFORT (a) ET THEW. ORKITS ELFS HALL NOTBEL. OSTFO. RITS=HALL (c) ASH* EBELI. EVE. SAPPE (d) E INAN. E. WAND TIFU. LEDI (f) TION. COR. REC. TE DAN. DREVIS (g) EDBYT HE. AUT. HOR SIR, AS I doubt not but many of your readers are well versed in antiquarian lore, in which I confess myself to be a mere novice, I beg leave to send you an inscription which some years ago fell in my way, but which I have not found any one, in the limited eircle of my acquaintances, able to explain. I took it to our Parson, in the hope that he would read it for me; but, although I believe he is a very learned man, having studied three years at Oxford, where he was made a Bachelor, (by the bye, I am no friend to the Bachelor system,) he was obliged to confess that it was beyond his comprehension. He declared at once that it was not Latin, which I myself, indeed, had shrewdly suspected, before I consulted him. suggested to him that perhaps it was Greek, as I had been informed that some of the characters of that language are very similar to ours, only with different powers; (poor ignorant beings! they mistake a P for an R, and after laying M flat on one side they call it S!) but he satisfied me that I was mistaken by comparing some of the characters in question with those in an alphabet contained in an old Greek grammar which he produced, in which nothing like several of the letters in my MS. was to be found. As none of the characters are materially different from those of our common English alphabet, except in their antiquated cast, we concluded that the inscription was written in some European tongue either ancient or modern. Our family doctor, having once been an assistant-surgeon in the army, possesses a little smattering of several of the continental languages. I,jecture is, that in the language in which this inscription is therefore, next had recourse to him. He examined my MS. with great attention, (for the benefit of the young folks who occasionally peep into the Iris, it may be proper to say that MS. means Manuscript, and MSS. Manuscripts, that is, something written by the hand, not printed; see Bailey's Dictionary,) and he consulted several vocabularies and dictionaries or worden-boecks, (as he told me the Dutch call them,) which he had collected during his residence on the continent. But the uncouth words of my. inscription had obtained no place in any of them. It was certain the inscription was not French; (do you think young Boney has any chance of being King of France?) for the terminations -ent and -oir do not occur in any part of it. Italian it could not be; for it could lay no claim to the soft melodious sounds of that effeminate language. It might be Russian, although this was doubtful. But after all I am disposed to think that it is a dialect of the Gothic or Anglo-Saxon, as I think I can trace some resemblance between several of the words, and the specimens given of those languages in the etymological part of Bailey's Dictionary, a work which I hold in the highest esteem, notwithstanding the ill-natured remark of the stupid carle of Eskdale-Muir, of whom you speak in the 21st page of the Iris, as it gives me more insight into erudite subjects, than any book which I ever met with. Encyclopædias, they say, are useful, but I do'nt know, and they are very dear. (Pray is not Bailey's Dictionary the principal class book at Oxford and Cambridge?) Having now detained you so long, I shall transcribe the inscription to which my researches have been so studiously directed. You have no characters in your printing-office which will exactly correspond to the original; but you will come sufficiently near the truth to prevent any misapprehension, by employing the small black sort of letter, with the strokes all of a uniform thickness, with which vou print the titles of the different departments of your paper. Hoping some of your learned correspondents will We could not conveniently comply with the wish of remy Antiq.-Ed. CNOFBEL OSTFO RITS-HALL, I translate d Are not these the Christian names of some of the weird e I opine that this is the name of one of the ardent ad- TO THE EDITOR. SIR, The recommendations prefixed to the Lectures on Astronomy, which concluded last evening, could not fail to rouse the attention of the literary and scientific; for if the shadow of the genins of a Playfair or a Brewster were to be revived, we were not to be diverted by any casual circumstance, from the intellectual feast. The attendance was, therefore, flattering at the very outset; and it is due, both to the oratory and philosophy of our Lecturer, to concede, that the number of his pupils has been retained, though with considerable variations, to the close of the scene. Whether this circumstance will induce our philosopher to insert the name of Manchester in his recommendatory preface, after the august cities of London, Edinburgh, and Dublin, I have not heard, nor do I know whether it would so far affect the credit of our town in the literary world, as to warrant our solicitation of the favour. With all the charm of these Lectures upon me, you will readily perceive, that I am not enthusiastic in my plaudits; and surely, the consideration of the authority which attends them, will awe my strictures to bare lightly as they roll. No parent need regret accompanying his child to such instructive exhibitions; for here, science descends to the capacities of all, and imposes upon the notice of the idle and perverse. The half-untutored mind may here be escorted along the outer boundaries of creation, may fearlessly drive the chariot of the sun,-may dance with a comet athwart the heavens,-play with planets as with marbles, and ascertain its own position to be but one mind, in one world, of one system, amidst the myriads of systems floating in immensity. It is hard to tell the thirst for science and the sublimity of sentiment which such a method of instruction might create, in spirits that now grovel on the earth; if, in connexion with a steady and unerring apparatus, every body and its motion were elucidated in a neat and unhesitating manner; and all conjectural theories, long since exploded, were to pass nearly unnoticed. But while there was much to amuse, there was much to bewilder, in the evenings that I spend at the Exchange. If at any time I was annoyed with a false and insonorous intonation,-or surprised at a novel and ludicrous emphasis,--or diverted by the frequent recurrence of a word,-or touched by a burst of eloquence, simultaneous with the Demosthenes of Scotland, though others might enjoy the sallies of imagination over the amplitude and beauties of the universe, my mind, alas! was loaded as with fetters, and, as by a more fearful fatality, could not envy those that did rise. We were not of course compelled to yield to every statement, as correct; or, to confide in every prominent theory, as precisely conformable to the Copernican or Newtonian system. We were favoured with the hypothesis of the more celebrated philosophers, and left, I presume, to chuse for ourselves. There were however a few philosophical adventures, which forcibly struck me as original. Not to trouble you, Sir, with a list of these, I will merely introduce one instance to the notice of your readers, who may probably throw over it an additional light. The reason why the moon appears so much larger when it verges to the horizon, than when it is more elevated, was accounted for (if my memory does not deceive me) from our comparing it, in the one case, with other objects around us; and in the other, from having nothing intervening with which to compare it. This was more plainly illustrated, by referring us to the difference of the real and apparent size of the ball on the top of St. Paul's, the spectator having, in the one case, other objects around him; but in the other, views nothing but the ball itself. Previously, I had imagined this sensible variation dependant upon the density of the atmosphere, which is always more apparent at the horizou, and renders the sun or moon less bright than when immediately above us. need only look at the object, in either case, through a tube, so as to exclude all intervening objects, and the phenomenon still remains to be accounted for. TO CORRESPONDENTS. ZENO. THE WAY TO LIVE.-M-S. and several other favours shall, if possible, appear in our next. ROB ROY has our thanks for his good wishes, but we must We perfectly agree with the remarks contained in the letter Manchester: Printed, Published, and Sold, BY HENRY SMITH AND BROTHERS 14, St. Ann's-Square. We resume our account of this book without any prefatory remarks. The progress of the story has now brought us to the Prefect's Hall of Justice, where Diodotus, Charinus, Calanthias, and other Christians, are led forth to answer the charge which is against them as guilty of the Galilean faith.' Their offence is summed up in the common accusation against the first disciples of Christianity. ye serve not in our temples; Crown not our altars; kneel not at our shrines; And in their stead, in loose and midnight feasts Ye meet, obscuring with a deeper gloom Of shame and horror night's chaste brow. The answer is exceedingly applicable and just. Wrest the idle thunderbolt from amorous Jove, Nor does Diodotus shrink from giving a reason of the hope that is in him,' but, though he pleads with something of the spirit of St. Paul, Olybius is not 'almost persuaded' to believe. Charinas defies him with pride and presumption. At this juncture a veiled maiden is brought in, who, in company with a man, has been seized pouring upon the still and shudd'ring air their hymn to Christ.' OLYBIUS. I seem to see What cannot be before me-Margarita ! Answer, if thou art she. CALLIAS. Great Judge! great Prefect! It is my child-Apollo's gifted priestess! Within that holy and oracular cave Her spirit quaff's th' absorbing inspiration. Lo, with what cold and wandering gaze she looks On me, her sire-it chokes her voice-these men These wicked, false, blaspheming men, have leagued To swear away her life. OLYBIUS. Callias, stand back. CALLIAS. Wizard! Sorcerer! What hast thou done to witch my child from me? What potent herbs dug at the full of the moon. What foul Thessalian charms dost bear about thee? Hast thou made league with Hecate, or wrung From the unwilling dead the accursed secret That gives thee power o'er human souls? Speak, virgin: wherefore wert thou there? with religion, with the most affecting and impressive eloquence. whom? Now where is he? by all the Gods Renounce thy frantick faith, and live for him; This is a generous-a noble trait-the consummation of Roman virtue. It is, however, no fortunate rival of Olybius, for whom, Margarita has scorned her father's gods,' and who is now dragged before the Asiarch's throne. It is the old and venerable Fabius. OLYBIUS. Hehe! that man with thin and hoary hair, Bow'd down, and feebly borne on tottering limbs ! Ye gods-ye gods, I thank you! The very soldiers lean their pallid cheeks Charinus again challenges their punishment in haughty and defying language, and is reproved by Fabius. The following sentiment, however, is excellently urged. What, Heathens, shake ye at an old man's voice? What will ye when the archangel trumpet thrills Upon your souls. The morrow is appointed for their deaths, and the Christians depart, bymning a hallelujah. The next scene is Margarita's prison: her father enters to her. He breaks forth into lamentations for the fate of his daughter, not unmingled with some reproaches of her apparent insensibility to his sufferings. MARGARITA. My father, I could have better borne thy wrath, thy curse. CALLIAS. Alas! I am too wretched to feel wrath: closes with the evening song to Apollo which is heard in the distance. Margarita is next found in a splendid, illuminated palace. Am I brought here to die? My prison opened And is it thus ye would enamour me chambers Where all would soothe to sleep, but that to sleep There's some one comes Is it the ruthless executioner? OLYBIUS. Fairest it is MARGARITA. Lord Prefect, it becomes The dying Christian to be mock'd in death; He comes with the temptation of power and pleasure and with the persuasive tenderness of love, if possible, to seduce the faith of Margarita and to reclaim her to the world and to himself. There is much fine and exalted poetry in this part, in a subsequent interview with her father who finds her in the palace and thinks that she is there to become Olybius' bride, in a soliloquy of Olybius and in another of Margarita, as also in a chorus of Heathen maidens in praise of Apollo, which is replied to by the Christians in one to the glory of God. But we must pass abruptly over various passages which would tempt us to quote, in order to come at the concluding scene. Premising however that Olybius and Macer have devised a plan for saving Margarita, by delaying her execution to the last, thinking that the sight of her brethren's tortures and sufferings will shake the firmness of her purpose. The multitudes are assembled: The statues of the Pagan deities are brought in triumphant procession to witness the vengeance which is about to be executed on the mockers of their rites.— Callias appears. All true, and real all: My sleep is fled, but not my hideous dreams. Ah! there they stand, their baskets full of flowers, The censers trembling in their timid hands, All, all the dedicated maids, but one. CITIZEN. Why doth he gaze around? he seems to seek What he despairs of finding. CALLIAS. No, there's none That taller than the rest draws all regards; And if they touch their lyres, they will but wake, With all their art, the memory of that voice Which is not of their choir. CITIZEN. Ah, poor old man! CALLIAS. What! who art thou that dost presume to pity I tell thee, insolent! even beside the stake ANOTHER CITIZEN. Would I were like him! Ah,-no-no, my child! Olybius comes on and ascends the throne The captives are brought forth to hear their doom. Last then to thee, fair Priestess! Art thou still To love-but not of man, Oh! pardon me, once For rites unholy, since to strew the graves OLYBIUS. Beautiful! what mean'st thou ? Why dost thou look to yon bright heaven? what seest, That makes thy full eyes kindle as they gaze, While sleep the folded plumes from their white From all the harping throng Like the unceasing sounds of cataracts pouring, That faintly echoing down to earthly ears, Hath seem'd the consort sweet of the harmonious spheres. Still my rapt spirit mounts, Of flowing light Christ's chosen Saints reclining; Their palm crowned heads they raise, Their white robes even through that o'erpowering lustre shining. Each in his place of state, Long the bright Twelve have sate, Again I see again The great victorious train, The Martyr-Army from their toils reposing: Even their immortal limbs, the signs of wounds dis- Oh! holy Stephen, thou Art there, and on thy brow Hast still the placid smile it wore in dying, Beyond! ah, who is there O'er him the rainbow springs, And spreads its emerald-wings, The Christ!-the Christ commands us to his Jesus, Redeemer, Lord, we come, we come, we come! 43 here we must conclude our account of persons. The members, however, paired off so rapid- Ha! God's blessing on his head! OFFICER. He gave it to another. CALLIAS. And OFFICER. CALLIAS. It fell. blood! Off let me loose. There are many faults in this poem which, if we had opportunity we would point out the work however sustains little injury from slight defects, and not to know some trifles is a praise.' X. THE CLUB.' perience and knowledge of the world, gave us at a The first club which excited the notice of our friend He was next admitted into a Blue-Stocking-Club, He some time after associated himself with a Debating-Society, at which, however, notwithstanding his ardour in what he undertakes, he was not a very conspicuous member. Some of the members, to display their knowledge of language, used many hard words with about the same propriety as my aunt Tabitha in 'Humphrey Clinker;' and others, to shew the extent of their learning, introduced topics in no respect connected with the subject under discussion, which it was evident they did not understand, and in which they expressed themselves with all the elegance and perspicuity which might have been expected! Our friend finding that there was but little pleasure or imafter he had been at a few of the meetings. provement to be gained by his attendance resigned called the Kit Cat Club, in which he expected, from He was also once introduced to a tavern society, the representations of one of the members, to be highly entertained. He was, however, woefully disappointed. Instead of rational conversation, or improving discussions, he was surprised, after a good deal of wrangling about rules and fines, to see one of the members, with a strong Northern accent, get up to give the company Cato's Soliloquy, after the manner of Kean, which the members pronounced to be an excellent imitation. Another member sang 'When he who adores thee, &c.' to a tune something like that of Nancy Dawson, and was much applauded. I shall advert at present to only one more club which be visited. This was an association which had no name, and to which, indeed, it would be difficult to give one. The favourite member was a young the frequent praises of the rest. man who assumed no small degree of confidence from to a paradox in the fancy of this inveterate logician. to utter the most notorious truism without giving rise It was impossible has gravely promised the club a theory which, after He is so much given to investigating causes, that he much labour, he has lately invented, to explain why a black cat is more prolific than a tabby, and another which will shew, why red-haired persons are more amorous than those whose hair is of a different coopinion of his sagacity that they have no doubt he will lour. The members in general entertain so high an in natural history. I must not, however, omit to soon be able to clear up these important mysteries mention that there has been in this club, from its commencement, one young man in whom very superior learning and talents shine through the veil which a graceful modesty has thrown over them. a Our informant was connected with a Jockey-Club, Book-Club, and a number of other clubs before he Bachelor-Club, a Card-Club, a Charity-Club, a was introduced at the Green Dragon. Of his peredancing at the Book-Club, and the eating at the grinations, from one place to another, with the Charity-Club, (by which circumstances these two institutions were most particularly distinguished) we paper. He is a person of some humour, and much shall perhaps give a further account in some future observation; and, though rather taciturn at first, he is, after a glass or two, exceedingly agreeable. He has gone through so many scenes, and played a part on so great a variety of occasions, that an astrological of his birth, under the persuasion, that some singular friend of ours is desirous to examine the horoscope planetary configurations shed their mingled influence upon his fortune, and, by their position in a moveable sign, gave him his rambling propensity. C. La |