With all due deference to the above elegant writer, I must observe, that in my opinion, he has censured Pliny without sufficient reason. I allow that no painter can represent the eyes look ing at the spectator, standing in one place, but they will also have the same direction to him standing in any other, and the cause of this, he has, I think, justly assigned to proceed from the nature of a plane. Yet it is certain, that there are some portraits which do, and others which do not, seem to look at us,-and as the painter regulates this by a little artifice, I conceive Pliny's encomium to be on the man who first discovered it. I speak now only of what are technically termed three quarter faces; (for in completely full ones I do not recollect the effect ;) —in these, then, if the nose and eyes have a similar direction, as is most natural, they will in no place appear to look at the spectator,-but if they are turned in opposite directions, then, whereever they may be viewed from, they will appear to return our regards. This is so ingenious an optical delusion, that I cannot but agree with Pliny, in praising highly the painter who first discovered it. Nor is it merely on the score of science, that he claims our thanks. Let those who have hung delighted over the portrait of a deceased or absent friend, lover, or parent-who have fancied, in the fond returning gaze they met, that the canvass had started into life,-let these ap

preciate, for they only can,-the value of such a discovery; and such sensations, I confess I have myself felt, nor do I envy him who has not;-yet I own that at these times, I never checked my pleasure by enquiring to what cause, or to whom, my gratitude was due; for of these exquisite joys, I agree perfectly with the almost too-sweet Anacreon of the present day :

"No, Science! to you

I have long bid a last and a careless adieu:.
Still flying from Nature to study her laws,
And dulling delight by exploring its cause,-

You forget how superior, for mortals below,

Is the fiction they dream, to the truth that they know.
Would ask how we feel it, or why it is sweet;

How rays are confused, or how particles fly

Through the medium refined of a glance or a sigh !

Is there one, who but once would not rather have known it,
Than have written, with Harvey, whole volumes upon it ?"

That one,-if one there be,-certainly am not I!-yet, did I know the name of him to whom I am thus indebted, he should receive my warmest gratitude, and hold in my estimation a far higher place than Apelles, Zeuxis, or any other master of the graphic art.

AN AMATEUR.

BIRTH-RIGHT TO STEPNEY PARISH.

SIR,-Being naturally interested by being myself a native, I have lately enquired rather particularly into the origin and truth of a very generally received opinion, that all persons born in this country (Bengal) of British parents, belong to the parish of Stepney. This is continually asserted with confidence; and not only in our behalf, but that the benefit extends to all British children born at, or beyond, sea. I have vainly, however, sought for any authority in support of this. Stow, Maitland, and Pennant, in their several accounts of the place, are silent on the subject, which silence is, of itself, conclusive against the fact.

But there are still stronger grounds for classing it among vulgar errors: Mr. Barrington, in his "Observations on the more Ancient Statutes," affirms the opinion, though a very prevailing one, to be erroneous,—and on such a subject, the assertion of so learned a judge must be considered as decisive. The belief in it may have originated thus ;-Stepney was formerly an extremely large parish, and included within its limits Wapping, Limehouse, Poplar, and several other places on the

Thames, which, from having been always the almost exclusive residence of seafaring men, may have given rise to the popular opinion, that all born at sea belong to that parish.

A NATIVE.

LETTER ON THE IRISH REBELLION.

MR. EDITOR, You will at once perceive the nature of the following jeu d'esprit,-it is certainly at present somewhat out of date, but, as it has never appeared in print, and may prove amusing to your readers, you may, perhaps, choose to give it admission.

Yours, &c.

A GATHERER.

"MY DEAR SIR,-Having now a little peace and quietness, I set down to inform you of the dreadful bustle and confusion we are in, from these blood-thirsty rebels, most of whom, are, however, thank God, killed and dispersed. We are in a pretty mess, can get nothing to eat, nor any wine to drink, except whiskey; and when we sit down to dinner, we are obliged to keep both hands armed; whilst I write this letter, I hold a

sword in one hand, and a pistol in the other. I concluded, from the beginning, that this would be the end of it, and I see I was quite right, for it is not half over yet; at present there are such goings on, that every thing is at a stand. I should · have answered your letter a fortnight ago, but I only received it this morning. Indeed, hardly a mail arrives safe without being robbed. No longer ago than yesterday, the coach, with the mails from Dublin, was robbed near this town; the bags had been judiciously left behind, for fear of accidents, and, by good luck, there was nobody in the coach but two outside passengers, who had nothing for the thieves to take.

Last Thursday, notice was given that a gang of rebels were advancing hither under the French standard, but they had no colours, nor any drums, except bagpipes. Immediately every man in the place, including women and boys, ran out to meet them death was in every face, but to it we went, and by the time half of our little party was killed, we began to be all alive. Fortunately the rebels cutlasses, and pikes,

had no guns, but pistols, and as we had plenty of muskets, and other ammunition, we put them all to the sword: not a soul of them escaping, except some that were drowned in an adjoining bog; and, in a very short time, nothing was to be heard but silence. Their uniforms were all of different colours, but mostly green. After the action, we went to rummage a