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affembled here every Sunday, and were inftructed by the Rev. Mr. William Jones, a man of great refpectability and excmplary character.”

RUINS.

"The fun was setting when we approached the ruins of Valle-Crucis Abbey, and shed a rich but softened light over the pile; a deep repofe reigned around, and not a found was heard to disturb the reflections which a scene fo folemn tended to infpire.

"No man, I believe, who is not entirely divested of feeling and tafte, can contemplate a religious ruin without fentiments of ferioufnefs and awe. The peculiarities of Gothic architecture are in themselves extremely striking; the pointed termination and light tracery of its figur'd windows; the variety and number of its niches, receffes, and arches; the elegance of its clustered shafts, and ornamented capitals; and the gloomy perfpective of its " long-drawn ailes, and fretted vaults." The folemn purposes for which the edifice was orinally defigned, will alfo naturally occur to the mind, followed by a recollection of the impreffive forms of Roman-Catholic worship; its mufic, torches, and proceffions; its high maffes, and nocturnal rites. But above all, the reflection that we are treading on ground, ftored with the dust of the departed, of thofe who like ourfelves were once engaged in the hurry of bufinefs, or the pursuits of pleasure, and the conviction that we must shortly be reduced to the fame filence and dishonour, will unavoidably combine to produce fentiments of a serious catt, and, for a time at least, abafh the infolence of pride, the thoughtleffness of levity, and the effrontery of vice."

CURIOUS RECEPTION.

"The rain now began to fall in heavy drops; we therefore haftened on to Wigmore, through miferable roads, and reached the Castle inn, the public-house of the village, wet, dirty, and tired, at eight o'clock. The looks of our landlord, who opened the door to us, afforded no favourable idea of the welcome we fhould receive. In truth, we foon difcovered we

were not to expect very hofpitable treatment. To our queftions, whether we could be provided with fupper and beds, a fullen no was returned by the deep voice of the hoft, which

the

the thrill pipe of his wife (who fpoke from the kitchen) very audibly confirmed. After a parley, however, of fome length, in which we defcribed our fituation and fatigue, together with the impracticability of our proceeding further to-night, we gained admiffion into an ordinary parlour, as well as an unwilling promise that something fhould be provided for our refreshment. We now found that our appearance and mode of travelling had excited fufpicions no way favourable to our honesty; for fcarcely had we feated ourselves by the fire, when a maid, entering the room, proceeded to a corner cupboard, and flyly conveying into her apron three or four filver fpoons, and a small filver cup which had hitherto formed the fplendid ornaments of the parlour, removed them from a fituation in which our hoft and his wife evidently conceived it was dangerous to allow the family plate to remain. Notwithstanding this proof of their want of confidence, I was not without hopes of bringing them to their accustomed cordiality; nor have I been disappointed in my endeavour. Oh! courtefy, how wonderful is thy power. Thy gentle influence ftealing foftly to the heart, fmooths every afperity, fubdues each unkindly emotion, and by a gradual metamorphofis, changes the gloom of fullenness into the smile of complacency. The curled brow of our landlord at length relaxed, and affumed its wonted ferenity; his wife also became lefs peevifh and ill-natured; we have gotten an excellent fupper, and are provided with two comfortable, well-aired beds."

Lordon, or an Abridgment of the celebrated Mr. Pennant's Defcription of the British Capital, and its Environs. 2d Edition, by John Wallis. 35. Symonds. MR. Pennant is well known to the world as an in

ftructive and entertaining writer, not only by his travels, but alfo by his refearches into Natural Hiftory. When a writer therefore of his inquifitive genius turns his attention to the metropolis, we have reafon to expect a variety of entertaining particulars. Accordingly his quarto volume abounds with interefting facts and curious difquifitions.

But

But the fize and confequent price of the work confines its circulation. Thirty Shillings is a fum not easily afforded in thefe times of general fcarcity, efpecially for a work which, however valuable in its kind, pretends only to gratify curiofity. The tenth part of that fum will not be deeply felt, and in the perufal of this abridgment the curiofity of the Reader will be amply gratified. The objects defcribed are almoft endlessly various, and on every topic fomething is advanced tending to promote our entertainment. We have not long ago perufed the original quarto volume, with which we were much amufed. On this account we are the better able to form a judgment refpecting this analysis of the work. We therefore declare that it is a faithful abridgment, and recommend it as a book replete with inftruction to the rifing generation.

Our metropolis is the wonder of the world! To know fomething of its origin and progrefs must be defirable. No British youth fhould be unacquainted with its hiftory; it is connected with the hiftory of the island; it is replete with information which adminifters to our

entertainment.

Malvern Hills. A Poem. By Jofeph Cottle.

Longman.

(Concluded from page 324.)

2s. 6d.

On the ruins of Branfil Castle, the following appro

priate reflections occur :

A mufing melancholy fills the mind
As we behold where Branfil turrets ftood*:

*A part of one of the walls of Branfil Castle is the only veftige remaining. It once was a venerable structure, and fortified with a double ditch faced with stone. It cannot at prefent be discovered by whom it was built, though it is generally fuppofed to have been the Britons, foon after the Romans left this ifland.

How

How are the days gone by! how chang'd the scene
Since circled by a vast and rich domain,
Its towers arofe; majestic, moated round,
And made to bear the ruft of ages! now

The neighbouring shepherd scarce can point the place
Where once it stood !-fignificant of Man!
Where are the countless generations past?
Earth's boafted lords? her lofty minifters ?
Once fear'd throughout the world her valiant hofts?
Prais'd in their day! her captains? and her chiefs?
Where are the men-the great and mighty men!
The potentates that rul'd a crouching world,
Who call'd the earth their own, and proudly fway'd
The fceptre of dominion?---Where are now
Empires once famed? Affyria! where art thou?
Thou Babylon! the mistress of the world?
Media? and Perfia? Greece! thy boafted power?
And thine? victorious Rome! Nations and States,
Ye are for ever gone! The fpoiler Time,
Hath o'er your greatness past, and at each step
Your proudest Temples levell'd with the ground-
Your brazen Monuments, your Towers of ftrength;
Save one-a Pillar of majestic height*

That bears your names;-there he the conteft yields,
Secure it stands, immoveable, ordain'd

To teach Mankind, the great, the folemn truth,
What shades they are, what shadows they pursuet".

Of war, the poet speaks with honeft indignation, and pours forth fentiments which every feeling heart muft approve :

"Man corrupts

The natural world, made like its Author good!
He facks the town, lays wafte the fertile plain,
Calls Famine from her halls of nakedness,

Beneath, whence, upward springs the fleshless hag,
And gorging on the fruits for man ordain'd,

Leaves but herfelf to mourn.

* Hiftory.

+ Burke.

VOL. IV.

Na

Του

Too long has life

Suftain'd a load of anguish-needlefs-vaft.

A tyrant few, in every age, have feized

The wrathful fword, and deem'd mankind their flaves;
Made them refign their wills, fubmit to death,
Afflict, deftroy their fellows, nor, for what,
Heeding! How pliable is man!-like clay
Moulded to any form, and trufting all
Hypocrify declares-fenfelefs and blind:

Or would fuch mad tormentors watte the earth?
Such wars prevail? that hide the face of day
With fteam of murder; bearing to high heaven,
On each accufing particle, a prayer

That fhall bring down perdition on the murd❜rers.
If man, proud man, were other than machine,
Would he in every age and country rush
To raife the hoftile ftandard at the beck
Of each enfanguin'd chief? in every cause?
Oh ye, at whofe command fuch deeds are done,
Take heed! ye have a long account to clofe,
When each that was untimely flain shall rise,
And with heart-fhaking words, and fixed eye,
Sternly proclaim, "You were my murderer!"
May ye find mercy at that trying hour,
Altho' on earth ye knew it not, but faw,
Soul-fatisfied, your minifters of blood
Reel o'er their flain.

Power was not made for man:
It faps his little virtue, and the world

Will foon, from fad experience, learn to fay-
"Power ftecls the heart to every tender tie.
Humanity reveres, and, long enjoy'd,
Creates the Tyrant and confirms the Slave."

The avaricious and selfish character is well delineated and justly reprobated, in thefe lines :→→→

"Who is that man on yonder pebbled shore Picking up grains of gold, and poring deep, Down-bended mid a waste of fand and mirë? Now by his fparkling eye, and by the smile

That

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