past me with a truly aristocratical most unforgiving of her sex; that air. Within it sat a lovely creature Wears thy rich virgin hues, delicious May !" at which a single glance appears suf- sex on which I was now showering ardent meditations on the attractions vertently to obstruct her progress. Those arms swelled and flaming, her countenance coarse and bloated "Like silvery moonbeams on the nighted deep and red with intoxication and anger, When Heaven's blest sun is gone.' She was drawing on one of her gloves, and my eye rested for a moment on her white and polished arm, encircled by a bracelet of precious stones; I saw the graceful bend of her slender, snowy throat, the fresh bloom of her cheeks, "Painted, 'tis true, by the same hand that throws It's brilliant colours on the blushing rose,”the pure gloss of her light ringlets, from which all dust and tarnish seemed banished by irreversible decree; above all, I remarked that noble port, that indefinable expression of native dignity, which told of a long line of high-born fathers, and of mothers chosen from the fairest of the land. This lovely apparition set my imagination in a glow; and most sincerely do I wish that every lady of my acquaintance could at that moment have read my thoughts. If ever, in an hour of spleen, I had been negligent and ungallant, ever too idle to dance, too preoccupied to admire, too reasonable to approve caprice, too sincere to praise imperfections, my present train of ideas would have furnished a Palinodia sufficiently ample to appease the her triple chin, huge sinewy throat, and most unseemly neck, her swaggering gait and dirty attire, her air of unshrinking daring, of vice, vulgarity, and wretchedness, produced a whole of almost terrific effect. I hurried on to escape the disgusting spectacle, and woman seemed to fall in a moment from the high pinnacle of honour on which my devotion had so lately placed her. She, to whom I had been attributing so many charms, whose very nature I had felt inclined to deify, and to whom all that was fair, and lovely, and gentle, seemed essential and necessary accompaniments, appeared now to be indebted to chance alone for her advantages; to be the sport circumstances and accidents, a Helen or a Hecate, an angel or a demon, as these may happen to decide. Naturalists will tell us that the oys ter-wench was only a variety of the fair sex, as a flower planted in a coarse soil loses the delicacy of its form and brilliancy of its colours; and will try to induce us to believe that the difference between the lovely daughter of nobility and the female fury from whose presence I had fled with loathing, was only pro of duced by a dissimilar habitat. Yet this difference comprises every outward circumstance, every inward feeling, not only language, appearance, clothing, food, abode, but the ideas, pleasures, and wishes of the one would be totally incomprehensible to the other; the memory of one a gay bazaar of all that is bright and delicate, of fineries, fêtes, and pleasures, of elegant amusements and refined pursuits, of gentle sorrows soothed by tenderness, and fleeting cares dispersed by wealth and indulgence, while the mind of the other must be a dark and fearful chaos of ignorance, wretchedness, and crime. Perhaps it would be nearly impossible to select a circumstance which would excite the smiles or tears of both these beings; a viand which would be equally pleasing to both their palates. How would one shrink from raw onions and gin! how insipid would the other find omelettes and Moselle! How useless would it be to read Byron and Pope to the oyster-woman! and with what horror would her fair sister close her offended ears to the ribaldry which convulsed the former with laughter! Each, indeed, shrinks from pain, each eats to satisfy hunger, and drinks when she is dry; but in these particulars there is no closer resemblance than exists between cows and sheep, and other animals to which distinct specific appellations are given on account of their wide dissimilarity in other respects. Surely in this age of precise classification, when genera in botany and entomology are divided and subdivided, on account of a notch in the leaf of a calyx, or an additional joint in an antenna, some steps will ere long be taken towards a more accurate arrangement of the human race. We must at first be contented with broad and conspicuous lines of separation, divisions comprehensive as the types of Cuvier; but as the infant science gaius strength, it will become gradually more precise, and the student in Anthropology, on returning from an entertainment, will be able to con vey to his absent friends the most lively and distinct idea of the company, will enumerate rapidly the various genera present, state which were the predominating species, and what varieties sat next him at dinner, or were his partners in a quadrille. Some few difficulties might be occasioned by the human animal consisting of both body and mind, and requiring in consequence two different classifications according to the constitution and qualities of each; but these would be removed by time and practice, and the quick, experienced eye of a real lover of the study would soon learn to detect a curious species oppressed by the customs and comme il fauts of fashionable life, with the same rapidity with which the botanist spies a rare plant half concealed among the coarse and tangled luxuriance of a hedge-row. Society, too, would probably be improved by this new science: a general ambition would be excited to assemble different species and curious varieties in our parties: it would no longer be the fashion for every one to do his utmost to look, speak, and think like the rest of the world; and it would not be considered more absurd or tasteless to have nothing but cockles in your cabinet of shells, no flower but balsams in your green-house, or "toujours perdrix" for dinner, than to fill your rooms with only the flirts and coxcombs of the human race. the beginning of the science many mistakes would be made, and much wrong classification occur from the cameleon properties of mankind, which render the same individual tomorrow so unlike what he seemed to be yesterday. Take, for instance, our young Guardsmen, many of whom are to me inexplicable anomalies which baffle all previous calculation, make me doubt the axioms of the wise on the power of habit, and suspect that his delay at Cannæ had little influence on the fate of Hannibal. Behold their foppish dress, effeminate air, and affected manners; see them loiter away the day in triding In pursuits, sit long and late at the most recherché dinner, discuss with fastidious criticism every foreign dish, spend half the night in simpering with pretty women, or yawning at the opera; their greatest excitation is found at the gaming-table, their deepest study in perusing a vapid novel. Is it possible to imagine a mode of life more likely to generate effeminacy and cowardice, to make a Sybarite of Mars himself! Yet let a war arise, and send these perfumed fops to join our armies, they shoot at one start from puppies into heroes; hardships are unheeded, dangers courted, death despised; they are ready to march all day and watch all night; they sleep where and when they can, feed like dogs, fight like devils. 1 remember to have seen a colonel of the Guards, perhaps the most complete specimen of a fop who ever existed, a few hours after he had landed at Portsmouth on his return from the battle of Corunna; and young and inexperienced as I then was, nothing could exceed my astonishment at the unaffected carelessness with which he spoke of all he had done and suffered; his easy unconcern under the most unusual accompaniments of a torn shirt, a soiled coat, and dishevelled hair, and his complete transformation from an affected, delicate, scented coxcomb, whom it was impossible not to despise, into a hardy, undaunted, daring soldier, whom I was compelled to admire and respect. A few months afterwards I saw him again completely restored to his former self, but I could not again enjoy the satisfaction of unhesitating and supreme contempt, nor have I ever since then met in society any of his brethren in arms, and in folly, without thinking it likely that, in the midst of their grimaces and absurdities, they might suddenly choose to throw off their monkey disguise, and turn into men. Specimens of this description would doubtless puzzle our natural philosophers, but uncertainties of the same kind are to be found in all departments of Zoology; the hen-pheasant will occasionally. assume the plumage of the male; the maggot, from which in ordinary states of the bee-republic a common worker would proceed, will, in seasons of difficulty, produce, a queen, and from the chrysalis out of which we expected to see a timid moth emerge, will sometimes fly a fierce and cannibal Ichneumon. Other difficulties would arise to the Anthropologist from the more permanent but scarcely less surpris ing changes which time and society produce in our minds, dispositions, habits, and opinions. When we have "skipped from sixteen years to sixty, and turned our leaping-time into a crutch," it is not upon our persons only that time has exercised its influence, and a looking-glass for the mind would reflect far greater dissimilarity in character and feelings than in complexion and feature, Some would shrink from and loathe the mental image of their youth, while others would have reason to regret that its warm affections, its open-hearted confidence, its openhanded generosity had fled, and that no maturer virtues had taken their place. One would look in vain for the fruit so fondly prophesied by those who had seen with delight that "the blossom of all manly virtues made his boyhood beautiful,” and another would perceive that the licentiousness and selfishness which had once been excused to himself and the world, by sprightliness and good-humour, had outlived the gay foliage by which they had formerly been decked and disguised, and that "All that gave gloss to sin, all gay Here too would be a deep and curious study for the admirer of our new science, and, in conjunction with the phrenologist, he might hope, by patient investigation and repeated experiments, to discover not only the present disposition and character of his fellow-mortals, but the em bryo, and as yet undeveloped traits which time will eventually unfold, as the botanist foresees the poisonous fruit which some fair flower will produce, or the entomologist glories in the radiant butterfly, while its beauties are still concealed within the dull unsightly chrysalis. Then, indeed, would Boileau's words be true, that "Jamais, quoi qu'il fasse, un Mortel ici-bas Ne peut aux yeux du monde etre ce qu'il n'est pas." Then would hypocrisy commit felo de se in a fit of despair, and then a course of Anthropology would be the indispensable preparative of every prudent person for the state of matrimony. But alas! the science which is to produce such important effects is not even in its infancy; it is yet unborn; centuries will be requisite fully to develope and mature it, and it is but too probable that during my short life I may never be able to obtain the warrant of philos sophy and custom, as well as that of feeling and reason, to give a different zoological denomination to the most disgusting virago who issues from a cellar to disfigure and disgrace our streets, and the fair and gentle being who is the theme of poetry, the darling of our fancy, and the delight of our eyes. NATURE'S FAREWELL. BY MRS. HEMANS. "The beautiful is vanished, and returns not."-COLERIDGE's Wallenstein. A YOUTH rode forth from his childhood's home, "Knew'st thou with what thou art parting here, Long would'st thou linger in doubt and fear; Thy heart's free laughter, thy sunny hours, Thou hast left in our shades with the Spring's wild flowers. "Under the arch by our mingling made, On rode the youth-and the boughs among, Thou art leaving for ever thy joy in our lay! "Thou may'st come to the Summer woods again, A change must pass o'er thee-Farewell, farewell!" On rode the youth; and the founts and streams "Listen but once to the sound of our mirth; Never again wilt thou find in its flow The peace it could once on thy heart bestow. "Thou wilt visit the scenes of thy childhood's glee, "Thou wilt bear in our gladsome laugh no part; Thou wilt bring to the banks of our freshest rill, "Farewell!-when thou comest again to thine own, Yet on, fiery dreamer!-Farewell, farewell!" And a something of gloom on his spirit weigh'd, THE GERMAN GIBBET. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes.-RICHARD III. T was evening, towards the latter end of autumn, when the warmth of the midday sun reminds us of the summer just gone, and the coolness of the evening plainly assures us that winter is fast approaching; that I was proceeding homewards on horseback, fortified by a strong great coat against the weather without, and refreshed with a glass of eau-de-vie, that I might feel equally secure with in. My road lay for some time along an extensive plain, at the extremity of which there rose a small and thickly overspreading wood, which the road skirted for some distance; and, on a slight eminence, at an angle where the last rays of the setting sun threw their gleam across the path, were suspended the remains of a malefactor in chains. They had been hanging there at least ten years; the whole of the flesh was consumed; and here and there, where the coarse dark cloth in which the figure had been wrapped had decayed, the bones, bleached by the weather, protruded. I confess I am rather superstitious, and certainly did push on, in order that, if possible, I might pass the place before the sun should have set; to accomplish which, I put my horse upon a fast trot, which I afterwards increased into a hand gallop. The sun, however, had set, and twilight was fast changing into darkness as I rode up. I could not keep my eyes off the spot, for the figure swung slowly backwards and forwards, ac companied by the low harsh creaking of the irons, as it moved to the breeze. What with exertion, and I may add fear, or something very like it, the perspiration fell in large drops from my forehead, and nearly blinded me, so that I could not refrain from imagining that the white bony arm (hand it had none) of the figure, relieved against the dark wood behind, was beckoning to me, as it waved in the wind. On passing it, I put my horse to full speed, and did not once check his pace, or look around, until I had left the German Gibbet (for so it was called) a good mile behind. It was now a fine, clear, moonlight night, and I had not gone far when I heard the sound of horses' feet at a little distance behind, and about the same time began to feel myself unusually cold. I buttoned up my coat, but that did not make much difference; I took a large comforter from my pocket, and put it round my neck. I felt still colder; and urging my horse forward, I hoped that exercise would warm me; but no, I was still cold. However fast I galloped, I still heard the sound of horses' feet behind, at apparently the same distance, and though I looked around several times, I could not see a living soul! The sound got faster and faster, nearer and nearer, till at last a small grey pony trotted up, on which sat a tall, thin, melancholy |