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Mr. J. L. Crowley about this time resigned the Professorship of Mathematics at the Cadet Academy, at Woolwich, and Dr. H. after a strict examination, became his successor. His talents were now displayed to advantage, and occasioned his election to the Royal Society. On the resignation of Dr. Horsley as Secretary to this body, Dr. Hutton was elected one of the Council and Latin Secretary; but on the appointment of Sir Joseph Banks to the Presidentship, a misunderstanding arose, and Dr. H. went out of office. 1807 he retired from his Professorship at Woolwich, and obtained a liberal pension from Government.

In

Besides the works already mentioned, Dr. Hatton published The Diarian Miscellany, 5 vols. 12mo;—a Selection of useful and entertaining Parts from the Ladies' Diary, of which he was for a long time editor; Elements of the Conic Sections, 8vo. 1777; Tables of the Products and Powers of Numbers, folio, 1784;

Mathematical Tables (Logarithmis,) 1785-five editions to 1811; Tables of Interest, 8vo. 1786; Tracts Mathematical and Philosophical, 4to. same year; Compendious Measurer, 12mo. id.; Mathematical and Philosophical Dictionary, 2 vols. 4to. 1796; and many other Treatises on Mathematics, Projectiles, and Philosophy, translations from Despian, Ozanam, and Montucal; and (in conjunction with Drs. Shaw and Pearson) an Abridgement of the Philosophical Transactions, to which he was a valuable contributor, in 18 vols. 4to.

Dr. Hutton was exceedingly cheerful in his conversation and manner, and deliberate in expressing himself. His voice was agreeably clear and firm, with a slight northern accent.

"In the spring of the year 1822 (a gentleman writes) I called upon Dr. Hutton at his house in Bedford-row. After the Doctor's usual kind reception, I told him my object in the visit was twofold,-after the pleasure of paying my respects, to take the opportunity of requesting his assistance in procuring either a mathematical master, or school, for a young friend to devote his time exclusively to that branch of study, preparatory to his joining the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich, as a cadet.

"I prefaced by saying, the lad was the son of a deceased Royal Engineer Officer, and it was on behalf of the widow that I solicited the Doctor's recommendation. Yes, Sir, (was the reply,) I know a good many mathematical schools, and more mathematical masters; before I specify either, tell me what the widow can afford to pay, that expense may regulate us in our choice.' I replied, I could not answer that question without reference to the widow. 'Well, Sir, perhaps then the shortest way will be, (for you will have my say to make to the widow, and doubtless the widow will again have her say to make back to me,) to send the lady herself to me, when it can at once be despatched; that will leave us now, Mr. ➖➖➖➖➖➖ the agreeable opportunity of talking upon some more interesting subjects.'

"After a short pause, and looking to the centre of the room, I observed to the Doctor, 'You have there, Sir, a very fine and interesting portrait of Sir Isaac Newton-bas it not lately come into your possession?'

Yes, Sir, it is a very fine, and as you say, interesting portrait of that illustrious individual, Sir Isaac Newton, and it has lately become mine. That picture, Sir, was the last for which Sir Isaac sat to any painter; it was painted by and in the very last year of Sir Isaac's life-he was then in his eighty fifth year. The picture was executed for the grandfather of the present Earl Stanhope. When the late Earl Stanhope died, a few years since, he kindly remembered me in his last will, and bequeathed me that picture, which I greatly value. It was always deemed a fine and good likeness of Newton, and a pleasing resemblance it is.' After a few words more, I observed the Doctor's eyes were directed (and as I thought evidently with a wish of attracting mine also) to a print hanging by the fireplace, a portrait of Mr. Charles Hutton, from Cosway's well-known and admired picture of that gentleman, dressed in black, with a three-cornered hat upon his head, and an ear-trumpet in his right hand. Looking immediately at the print, the Doctor said, Doubtless, Mr. you know the picture from which that print was taken; it was done by Mr. Cosway. Charles Hutton, Sir, was a man of very considerable abilities -he was a relation of mine; and you shall hear a

story most flattering to myself. Charles Hutton's mother, Sir, and my mother were sisters; and his grandmother and the mother of Sir Isaac Newton were also sisters. So you see, Sir, (pointing to the print, and looking at the picture of Newton,) through that man I am myself connected with that great and extraordinary person whose effigy we are contemplating.' The solemn earnestness with which the last sentence was uttered, and the complacency of his countenance, strongly marked the Doctor's great and inward satisfaction.

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Referring to the pictures, I said. I hope, Sir, you will leave to the world some such memorial of yourself, which our posterity may admire with as much gratification. I do not know, Sir, if I ever shall be admired in this way after I am dead; but you shall see what Gahagan has done for me,' uncovering a bust on a corner table. He continued: There, Sir, is a bust of me by Gahagan ;-my friends tell me that it is like me, but that it is too grave for me, though gravity For the likeness and expresis part of my character. sion I cannot myself be the judge; but I can vouch for the accuracy, for I have measured it in every point with the callipers.'

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Upon my taking leave, the Doctor insisted he would accompany me to the door in the street of Bedford-row. I remarked to him the place was broad, light, and very airy. He stepped two or three paces on, and pointing to the end of the street, said, Yes, it is a very agreeable place to walk in. From the chair in my study to that post at the corner is just forty yards; and from that post to the post at the other end of the Row is exactly the eighth part of a mile so that when I come out to take my walk, I can walk my eighth part of a mile, the quarter of a mile, half of a mile, or my mile, as I choose. When I return to my seat, I know what exercise I have taken. I am in my eighty-sixth year, and, thank God, have my health in a remarkable way at such an age. I have very few pains, but am a little deaf.'"

BACHELOR'S FARE.

Funny and free are a Bachelor's revelries,
Cheerily, merrily passes his life;
Nothing knows he of connubial devilries,
Troublesome children and clamorous wife.
Free from satiety, care, and anxiety,

Charins in variety fall to his share;
Bacchus's blisses, and glauces of misses,
This, boys, this is the Bachelor's fare.

A wife, like a canister, chattering, clattering,
Tied to a dog for his torment and dread,
All bespattering, bumping, and battering,
Hurries and worries him till he is dead;
Old ones are two devils haunted with blue devils,
Young ones are new devils raising despair,
Doctors and nurses combining their curses,
Adieu to full purses and Bachelor's Fare.

Through such folly days once sweet holidays
Soon are embitter'd by wrangling and strife;
Wives turn jolly days to melancholy days,
All perplexing and vexing one's life,
Children are riotous, maid-servants fly at us,
Mammy to quiet us growls like a bear;
Polly is squalling, and Molly is bawling,
While Dad is recalling his Bachelor's fare.-

When they are older grown, then they are bolder grown,
Turning your temper, and spurning your rule,
Girls through foolishness, passion or malishness,
Parry your wishes, and marry a fool.-
Boys will anticipate, lavish and dissipate,

All that your busy pate hoarded with care;
Then tell me what jollity, fun, or frivolity,
Equals in quality Bachelor's Fare?

THE HOUR-GLASS.

(FROM THE LATIN OF AMALFI.) The dust that here, with motion true, In silence tells the waning hour, Once glowed with vital heat, and knew The pride of honour, wealth, and powerWas one, who, lost in pleasure's maze, Relentless beauty's charms admired; but withered in the gaze, He saw, And in a fatal flame expired. Still in this glass his ashes move, Proclaiming to each pining breast, That he, who knows the pangs of Love, May never, never, hope for rest!

INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF A SOMNAMBULIST.

(Concluded from our last.)

"The Somnambulist directs himself with unerring certainty through the most intricate windings, and over the most dangerous precipices; and, without any apparent assistance from the organs of sense, has been known to read, write, and compose." BISHOP PORTEUS.

The next day, while Negretti was yet awake, the Marquis received company in his chamber; a circumstance which rarely happened. As the visitors increased, so increased the demand for chairs. Negretti, having in the mean time fallen asleep, rose up, after a short nap; and, after blowing his nose, he paid his respects to his tobacco box, and hurried away in search of chairs. What is the most remarkable, is, that while he held one chair with both hands, he came to the door, which was shut, when, instead of knocking at it, he let go one hand from the chair, opened the door, took up the chair as before, and carried it to the very place where it ought to be. This done, he went to the beaufet, searched for the key, and seemed vexed that he could not find it: he took a candle, and examined every corner of the apartment, and every step of the staircase, walking about with great quickness, and groping with his hands in hopes of finding the lost key. The valet-de-chambre slid it into his pocket, and Negretti, soon after putting his hand there by accident, found the key. Enraged at his folly, he then opened the beaufet; when, after taking out a napkin, a plate and two rolls, he shut it again, and went into the kitchen there he dressed a salad, producing from a closet every thing necessary for that purpose, and when he had done, sat down in order to eat it. This dish they presently took from him, and in its place, gave him one of cabbage, highly seasoned. Of this he eat freely; and for cabbage they afterwards substituted a cake, which he swallowed in the same manner, without appearing to know any difference; a circumstance which leads one to think that he had not relished the salad by the organ of taste, but that the soul alone enjoyed this sensation without the intervention of the body. While he ate, he now and then listened, thinking he was called; and once persuaded himself that he actually was. Accordingly he went down in great haste to the hall; and finding no one, he stepped into the ante-chamber, and asked the servants if he had not been wanted. Rather peevish at being disturbed, he returned to his supper in the kitchen; and having finished it, he said, in a half whisper, that he should like to go to the next public house to have a draught, if he had any money; and he examined his pockets, without success at length he rose from his seat, saying he would go, however; that he would pay the next day, and they would not scruple to trust him. With great alacrity he ran to the public house, which was at the distance of two gun shots from the house. He knocked at the door, without trying whether it was fast, as if he had known, that at so late an hour, it necessarily must be so. On gaining admission, he called for half a pint of wine; instead of which the landlord gave him the same quantity of water; this he drank, insensible of the difference, and, at his departure, said he would pay for it on the morrow. With all haste he returned homeward, and, on entering the antechamber, asked the servants if his master had wanted him. He then appeared in high spirits,

and said he had been out to drink, and was the better for it. On this, a person forcibly opened his eyes, and he awoke.

In his sleep, one Friday evening, he recollected that the family tutor had said to him, that if he was seized with somnambulency that night, and would bring him a basin of soup, he would give him some drink money. On this he arose, while fast asleep, and said aloud, that he would plan a trick for the tutor. He accordingly went down to the kitchen, and repairing thence to the tutor's chamber, as directed, he reminded him of his promise. The tutor gave him a small piece of money; on which, Negretti taking the valet by the arm, earried him along with him to the public house, and, as he drank, related to him in a very circumstantial manner, how he had duped the tutor, whose money he thought he had received when he was awake. He laughed heartily, drank repeatedly to the tutor's health, and returned all life and spirits, to the house.

Once, while Negretti was in this state, a person hit him on the leg with a stick: he imagining it to be a dog, grumbled; and, as the person continued to strike him, he went in search of a switch, (and pursued the suppose dog,) brandishing it about with all his might. At length he fell into a rage, and in despair of finding the cur, he poured forth a load of abuse. He then produced a morsel of bread from his pocket, called the dog by a name, and kept the switch concealed; a muff was thrown down, which he took for the dog, and upon it he discharged his fury. Mons. Pigatti, in the course of his repeated observations upon Negretti, remarked, that every night he did something new. He likewise observed, that while his fit lasted, he did not perfectly enjoy either the sense of seeing, hearing, smelling, or tasting. We have seen that he would eat victuals of different sorts, without perceiving the change; he heard no noise, however great; he perceived no candle, though it was held near enough to scorch his eye-lids; he felt no feather, though his nose was tickled with one; yet his touch was sometimes tolerably acute, but at other times exceedingly dull.

DINNER COMPANY TO LET.-A CARD. Messrs. Clack and Caterer respectfully invite the attention of the dinner-giving department to the following statement of facts.

Singers may be hired at so much a-head: every body
knows, to an odd sixpence, the price of "Non nobis,
Domine," "Hail, Star of Brunswick," "Glorious
Apollo," and "Scots wha ha." Good set speakers for
charity dinners may also be obtained, by inquiry at the
bar of the tavern. These latter go through the routine
of duty with a vast deal of decorum. They call the
attention of the company in a particular manner to the
present charity, leaving a blank for its name They
ascribe half of its success to the worthy treasurer, and
the other half to the noble chairman, whose health they
conclude with proposing, with three times three: and
the accuracy of their ear enables them to cry "hip,
hip, hip," nine times, interlarded at the third and sixth
close with a burrah! aided by a sharp vell which
Messrs. Clack and Caterer have never been able to

distinguish from the yelp of a trodden lapdog. All

this is very well in its way, and it is not the wish of
the advertisers to disparage such doings. Far from
it; "live and let live" is their maxim. Many gentle-
men by practice qualify themselves for public speakers;
but good private dinner company is still a desideratum.

Impressed with this truth, Messrs. Clack and Caterer,
at a considerable expense, have provided, at their ma-
nufactory in Leicester-square, a choice assortment of
good diners out, of various prices, who, in clean white
waistcoats, and at the shortest notice, will attend to
enliven any gentleman's dull dinner-table. Messrs.
Clack and Caterer are possessed of three silver-toned
young barristers, who have their way to make in Lin-
coln's Inn. These gentlemen respectively and anxiously
enquire after the health of any married lady's little
Charlotte: ask when she last heard from Hastings;
think they never saw curtains better hung in the whole
course of their lives; tenderly caress the poodle that
occupies the hearth-rug; and should its front teeth
meet in their forefinger, will, for an additional trifle,
exclaim, "Pretty little fellow! I don't wonder he's
provided with two unbeneficed clergymen, who have
such a favourite." Messrs. Clack and Caterer are also
guaranteed a short grace, and undertake not to eat of
the second course. These gentlemen tell a choice col-
lection of good jokes, with a rigid abstinence from Joe
Miller. They have various common-places at hand,
which they can throw in when conversation flags. The
one of them remarks that London begins to look dull
in September, and that Waterloo-place is a great im-
provement; and the other observes, that Elliston has
much beautified Drury-lane, and that Kean's voice is
This kind of talk is
apt to fil him in the fifth act.
not brilliant, but it wears well, and never provokes
animosity.

Messrs. Clack and Caterer beg also to acquaint the nobility and gentry, that they have laid in a couple of quadrillers and three pair of parasites; who take children upon their knees in spite of tamarinds and Guava jelly; cut turbot into choice parallelograms; pat plain children on the head, and assure their mamma that their hair is not red but auburn; never meddle with It happens in London, every day, that gentlemen the two long-necked bottles on the table; address half mount to sudden wealth by Spanish bonds, fluctuations of their conversation to the lady of the house, and the of English stock, death of distant relations, and what other half to any deaf gentleman on their other side, not. When this event occurs, a carriage is bespoken, who tilts his ear in the hollow of his hand. Should the ladies go to the Soho Bazaar, the father takes a either of these personages be so far forgetful of his house in Baker-street or Connaught-place, and the sons duty as to contradict a county member, introduce agriget blackballed at all the new clubs in the environs of cultural distress, or prove the cause of the present low the Haymarket. Yet still something is wanting. Like prices; wonder what happened at Verona, or who the Greek or Persian king (Messrs.. Clack and Caterer wrote the Scotch novels; gentlemen are requested to will not be precise as to the nation) who pined to death write "bore" upon his back with a piece of chalk in the midst of plenty, gentlemen thus jumping into (which the butler had better be provided with), and high-life, from the abysses of Lower Thames-street then to return the offender to the advertisers, when the and Saint Mary Axe, lament the lack of good dinner money will be paid back, deducting coach-hipe. Cheap company. If they rely upon coffee-house society, their goods rarely turn out well. Some dinner-giving gensilver spoons are in jeopardy; and if they invite their tlemen have hired diners out at an inferior price; and own relations, they are ruined: nobody will come what was lately the consequence at a Baronet's in twice to such society. An uncle with an unpowdered Portland-place?-A Birmingham article of this sort pigtail, who prates of pepper and pimento: an aunt in entered the drawing-room with a hackney straw adhera brown silk gown, who drinks every body's health;ing to one stocking, and a pedicular ladder ascending a son from Stockwel', who is silent when he ought to talk, accompanied by a wife, who talks when she ought to be silent, compose a species of society which may do very well at Kensington or Camden-town, but which, Messrs. Clack and Caterer confidently predict, can never take root west of Temple-bar. The consequence is that gentlemen thus circumstanced must "cut" their own relations, or nobody else will "come again."

the other. He drank twice of champagne; called for
beer; had never heard that the opera opened without
Angrisani; wondered why Miss Paton and Braham did
not sing together (forgetting that all Great Russel-street
and a part of the Piazza yawned between them); spilt
red wine on the tablecloth, and tried to rectify the
error by a smear of salt and Madeira; left the fish-
cruets as bare as the pitchers of the Celides; and com

mitted various errors, which Messrs. Clack and Caterer scorn to enumerate. All this proceeds from not going to the best shops and paying accordingly.

Messrs. Clack and Caterer beg likewise to acquaint a liberal and candid public, that they have an unexceptionable assortment of three-day visitors, who go by the stage to villas from Saturday to Monday. These out-of-towners know all about Webb Hall and the drillplough; take a hand at whist; never heat their host at billiards; have no objection to go to church; and are ready to look at improvements on being provided with thick shoes. If up hill, or through a copse of the party's own planting, a small additional sum will be required. For further particulars enquire at the warehouse in Leicester-square. If Messrs. Clack and Caterer give satisfaction, it is all they require; money is no object. Letters, post-paid, will be duly attended to.-New Mon. Mag.

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Away, ye highly fam'd poetic class,
Cried Momns, as he rais'd the sparkling glass;
With wine elate he grasp'd his doggrel pen,
And thus a daring rhapsody began:
"Ye worthless scribblers of poetic lore,
Pollute the peerless Permessus no more;
Pope, Milton, Byron, Waller, all depart,
Nor move the passions-nor inform the heart.
Hence poor plebeians-fly this sacred land,
Nor dare the efforts of my muse withstand;
She, far beyond thy vulgar herd shall rise,
And nobly soaring pierce the distant skies:
If in mid-air, her progress should incline
To yon bright comet of the northern sign;"
Round his devoted head, her shafts shall fly,
And hurl him lawless through the yielding sky.
Then o'er the clouds, by Pegasus swift led,
To where Pernassus rears its lofty head,
The sacred nine, ber spirit shall inspire,
And warm a kindred soul with epic fire;
Touch with promethean hand, her colder clay
And call each latent faculty to day!
Eclips'd-the paltry bards of ancient days,
Shall shrink to dust, and hide their feeble rays;
Virgil and Horace,-Homer,-all will die,
And their dull works in one sad ruin lie!
Yet, her bright page will not condemn them all,
From mem'ry, and the roll of time to fall;
But as the noble lion spared the hound,
Which whin'd for mercy, as it licked the ground;
Embrac'd the trembling caitiff as his friend,
Until the luckless hour that brought its end ;-
So shall my muse extol great Tully's fame,
With verse sublime immortalize his name;
In doleful epigram his end deplore,
And bold him forth, till time shall be no more."
'Twas thus our ranting hero tuned his string,
Whilst thus a rival rhymster 'gan to sing;
"And art thou, mighty Momus-rapt, inspir'd?
Is thy dull sconce with admiration fir'd?
Has Rome's great genius-Tully's flow'ry page
Filled thy exalted soul with Grub-street rage?
Forbear-forbear, that meddling hand employ,
To beat the booby-or to cane the boy ;+
Leave panegyric to some abler hand,
Nor join the legions of the scribbling band.
Curb thy aspiring muse, nor let her soar,
To foreign skies unknown to thee before!
Should borrow'd pinions lift her high in air,
And her dark merit's prejudice declare,
Some truth, to check her progress will be found,
To dash th' aspiring mimic to the ground.
Let truth's bright fascinating form appear,
It strikes the bolder muse with panick fear;
Nor can smooth-tongu'd deceit prolong her stay,
With shades of night, she murm'ring shrinks away.
Offspring of heav'n, fair equity! descend,-
From caustic calumny my name defend;
Aid my just cause-nor let ambitious pow'r,
Oppress the weak-or o'er the helpless tow'r!
For thy strong band detraction can restrain,
Or slander check,-the source of all my pain;
Stem the foul current of calumnious lies,
Or shoot the swift wing'd falsehood, as it flies!
Alas! nor heav'nly truth-nor justice can
Convince of error self-approving man;
Still through the mask of candour is descried,
The child of passion, and the tool of pride,
Whatever plausive forms are framed to hide!

A contemporary bard.

+ Momos is a schoolmaster.

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How then would mighty Momus quake with shame
And shrink beneath the terrors of her name:

"How long (she'd cry) vile creature wilt thou brave
My potent arm,-and haunt the Stygean cave;
Must I through all thy mazes still pursue,
Nor hold thy vices up to publick view?
No-vilest being of the vilest race,
Go-and thy path to Radamanthus trace;
He will consign thee to Tartarian gloom,
Ordain thy punishment, and fix thy doom!
Tho' slow my pace-what once I seize is fast,
Tho' long in coming-yet I come at last;
And thou vile caitiff-even thou shalt feel,
If lead my sandals-still my hands are steel!"

CANTO SECOND.

Now did our hero, to enrich his rhyme,
Attempt Parnassus' flow'ry steep to climb;
And straight determined, by presumption led,
The confines of the sacred groves to tread,
Like thirsty Satan, vaulting o'er the bounds,
Spurn'd at the gate that opens to the grounds:
Vampyres, and harpies, now inspire his strain,
A thousand furies hover in his train.
Scared by his discord,-startled at his cry,
Peace, friendship, happiness and virtue fly;
His murd'ring instrument he boldly draws,
To furnish morsels for his mighty jaws !
Wide op'ning these emit with horrid roar,
A rabid poison from augean store ;
The vip'rous squall cuts every social tie,
Whilst fame and reputation, wounded lie;
Dryads, and nymphs, affrighted quit the floods,
Distracted sylvans tremble in the woods;
And all bright tenants of the holy place,
Momus avoid, and fly before his face.
He eager stoops his ample paunch to fill,
With purest water from the limpid rill.

Now frown the skies, with darkness dire o'ercast,
In horror dumb our hero stands aghast;

Forked light'nings play-the dreadful thunders roll,
And shake the misty air from pole to pole;
Hoarse deaf'ning peals, throughout the hill resound,
The caves re-echo-and the rocks rebound:
Not the fell wolf can greater terror feel,
Who trembling lies beneath impending steel,
Than seized our hero's perturbated frame,
His vaunted courage shrunk into a name :
Congealed his blood-and fix'd his vacant stare,
Upraised with dread, appear'd his horrent hair;
When arm'd majestic, issued from the wood,
A guardian genius of the sacred flood;
And, slow advancing, with indignant look,
Thus to the panick-stricken Momus spoke;
"Presumptuous mortal!-offspring of the shades,
Why with thy furies thus disturb our glades,
By what satanic power hast thou been led,
To thus defile, with sacrilegious tread,
These hallowed groves, from all the world confin'd,
Except the friends of genius and mankind?
Hence, monster hence-thy impions thirst restrain,
Nor with foul demon touch our spring profane;
Or by Alcides' arm shalt thou be hurl'd,
To seek for rivers in the nether world.
To haunt the gloomy borders of the Styx,
Where kindred harpies on thy soul shall fix;
Inflate thy breast with pandemonian pride,
And make thee pant for truth, yet truth deride :
Teach thee to cherish passions that deprave,
And make thee frequent the stygean cave!-
There, dark Alecto reigns in murky state,
And rules thy destiny, and guides thy fate!-
She-not the nine-thy barren genius fires,
And each mad bantling of thy pen inspires!
The hiss of Hydra from the Lernæan strand,
When great Alcides sinote with igneous brand;
The crash of battle echoing from afar,
And fierce Pelides thund'ring to the war;
When from the camp the Grecian stentor goes,
To bid defiance to the trembling foes;
The blinded Polyphemus on the shore,
When 'gainst Ulysses, he the rocks up-tore;
The raging Titans, when they Pelion inove,
And hurl Olympus 'gainst the angry Jove;
When from their hans, the pond'rous mountains rise,
And cleave with vengeance through the liquid skies;
Those hideous sounds commixed are not so dire,
As frightful din of thy discordant lyre;
Nor the rough bark of Cerberus more hoarse,
Than the harsh torrents of thy doggrel verse;
Hence, babbler hence ;-nor dare presume t' implore;
Haste thy vile progress to the stygean shore;
Else my strong arm shall hurl you from the light,
To realms of chaos and eternal night!"
Thus spake the guardian form with mien severe;
And frowning vengeance, seized a massive spear:
With awful front in stern position stood,
To thrust the monster from the sacred flood:
When as some thirsty pard in bloodshed bold,
Fearful of brave defenders of the fold,

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OUR readers will no doubt remark a degree of similarity between the letter from Hezekiah Treacle, which appeared some time ago in the Club,' and that which makes so considerable a part of our paper to-day. Both these letters relate to the domestic unhappiness of the writers, but the cause of that unhappiness is, in the two cases, extremely different. The complaints of Mr. Treacle are occasioned by the alledged want of order and method in his wife's conduct; while those of Mr. Dimity result from the absurd, yet expensive education, which had been bestowed upon his spouse. Mr. Dimity is so fully aware of this difference, that his letter was accompanied by a request, that we would introduce it by some remarks on the folly of those persons who give to their daughters an education too expensive and fashionable for their circumstances. We omit to do so for no other reason, but because we think the subject too important to be dispatched in a few sentences; and shall probably, before long, consider it more at large.

The publication of Mr. Treacle's letter has considerably increased the number of our female correspondents; and we take this opportunity of assuring them, that, even before we were favoured with their letters, we were fully convinced that the ladies, generally speaking, had much more reason to complain of domestic infelicity than the gentlemen. Some of the details which have been sent to us, and which we shall certainly publish, will place this fact in a very striking and affecting light; and will, we hope, have a salutary effect upon certain persons whom they particularly concern. The writers of these accounts must, however, excuse us if we do not immediately present them to the public, but appear to give a preference to such communications as those of Mr. Treacle and Mr. Dimity. Had we no other reason for this apparent preference, than a wish to render the loveliest part of the creation still more amiable, that alone would be sufficient to account for our hastening to acquaint them with every particular in their conduct, which it is desirable they

should amend.

We shall not any longer detain our readers from the perusal of Mr. Dimity's letter, except to observe that the unstudied, and somewhat abrupt manner, in which it is written, is, in our opinion, precisely that which would be adopted by a plain man, not accustomed to composition, when writing upon a subject in which he was personally and deeply interested.

MR. MEDIUM,

SIR,-My father was a respectable tradesman in this town, and bestowed upon me, his successor in business, an education which, although not so liberal and expensive as parents are now accustomed to give their children, he considered sufficient to qualify me for my station in life.

In our conversations upon the subject of marriage, his advice was, that I should not look too high for a wife, but marry a female of my own rank, as he judged it probable I should find such an one more capable of domestic management.

I married as I fondly thought, according to these directions. My wife was the daughter of a tradesman. Her parents had lavished money with unsparing hand upon her education, but it proved to be more expensive than useful-more glittering and shewy, than solid and substantial. She was mistress of every polite accomplishment, and in addition, I supposed her to possess those domestic qualifications which gain the esteem of all, and which, in particular, render home more attractive to the married man. Vain supposition! my hopes have been completely disappointed, and the relation of my case is perhaps all the consolation I have now left.

The first years of our marriage were passed over without any occurrence of material consequence We had discovered faults in each other, which we formerly fancied had no existence. This is undoubtedly the case with all married persons, but there exists in the human mind a capability of gradually becoming so accustomed to unpleasant objects or emotions, that they no longer produce uneasiness, and the faults, formerly so dreaded, become, from their frequency, scarcely noticed. The defect in my wife's education, became, however, in a few years, too apparent to be concealed. It was seen by every visitor possessed of common observation. Surrounded by a young and numerous family, instead of devoting her time and attention in endeavouring to contribute to their immediate comforts and pressing wants, her object has always been avowedly opposite. She entrusts them to the care of a hireling, to one who is destitute of maternal affection, or solicitude: apparently careless of their treatment, if they are kept from intruding upon her privacy. I contemplate the result of this treatment with the most unpleasant feelings. The children are so awed by the tyranny of the nurse, that they are afraid to give way to those lively and winning caresses which render childhood so attractive. Their look is demure and prim, totally unlike the unconstrained and joyous expression which is at their age so natural and pleasing; and I regret to add, that they have imbibed many vulgar prejudices which are common among the ignorant and uninformed. My remonstrances are urged in vain; my wife, I am sure, possesses maternal feeling, but her misdirected education, renders her insensible to the baneful effects of thus abandoning her children to mercenary care; and she declares she will not sacrifice her ease and pleasure to what she terms my ill-judged complaints, and I have, therefore, no other than the melancholy prospect, that the minds of my children will become imbued with low-minded prejudices, which will hinder them from acquiring those liberal principles which, in adult age, should form the basis and support of their conduct, and which should stimulate them to the performance of honourable and virtuous actions.

Other grievances also occur. My wife possesses a taste for reading, which she indulges in an immoderate degree. This taste, by being diverted from its proper and correct channel, has become vitiated. Historical books, or those upon general literature, have no attraction. Works of fiction alone, possess irresistible charms, and engross a great portion of her time; she peruses a new novel with all the avidity of a girl of sixteen, and sometimes de

prives herself of sleep, in order to ascertain the curiosity. Perhaps, from the time of his creation, this catastrophe, or concluding incident of these, pernicious works.

is the first time that one of his species has ventured so near the abodes of inhospitable man, and this solitary

THE CONCENTRIC FRIENDS.

MR. EDITOR,--The Liverpool Concentric Friends are grateful for your very polite private communication; and, as soon as the different cor

If not occupied by studies of this kind, she is either engaged in paying and receiving formal visits, or in accompanying a friend to lounge it, and met with the reward of his more celebrated pre- responding members can be apprised of the in

away her time, in the Square, or at an auction. This produces serious inconveniences. Mercers bills pour upon me from all quarters, which I am obliged to discharge, lest my credit in the market should be injured. The adage "Buy what you have no need of, and ere long you shall sell your necessaries," has no effect. If an article is in her estimation cheap, it must be bought, for cheapness is, with her, the most convincing argument for the purchase. It is in vain for me to declare, that I could buy it much cheaper, for she constantly tells me that I am prejudiced, and that I am determined never to give her credit for judgment in any thing.

Her household duties are equally neglected. The entire management of the culinary department is given up to the servants, who act quite independently, and by their ignorance and carelessness, either waste or spoil most of the articles entrusted to their care. Remonstrance is here, also in vain; she has never been aecustomed to manage the affairs of the kitchen, and she will not, therefore, interfere with the servants.

adventurer pays his life as the forfeit. This sub-marine Columbus went in quest of a new world; he has found decessor-persecution and ingratitude. Shakespeare was right when he said, that there are more things in heaven and earth than were ever dreamed of in our philosophy.

FASHIONS FOR FEBRUARY.

EVENING DRESS.- Pomegranate colour crepe lisse dress: corsage to fit. The stomacher is composed of double rouleaus of satin, rather more than an inch apart, and is continued over the shoulder to the bottom of the waist behind, and is trimmed

with fine blond, the same as the tucker. The band, or sash, is of crepe lisse edged with satin, and the ends of the rosette small festoons of crepe lisse, edged with satin and blond. The skirt is decorated with an elegant net-work of pomegranate and

trimmed with blond. The sleeve is formed of three rows of

white chinelle, surmounted with a row of steel beads; a steel bead is introduced at each angle of the net; beneath is a taste

ful trimming of crepe lisse in double reversed plaitings, intersected with ornamented semicircles of satin, united by a circlet between each; a broad satin rouleau at the bottom of the dress. Urling's lace is adopted in almost all dresses.

composed of four satin rouleaus, with a row of small steel beads

HEAD DRESSES.-1. Bolivar hat of black velvet; the brim narrow and equal width, is continued from the right side above the satin band of the crown, forming a double front, which is finished on the left with a small gold tassel; the centre is tassel.

led: small gold beads entwine the edge, and form an elegant spiral ornament. On the left side is placed a panache noir Aladdin, which falls gracefully to the right.

2. Cap of tulle; the crown covered with three satin tulipleaves, edged with a small roulean and double crepe lisse and each leaf is generally introduced a demi-wreath of fancy flowers blond beginning with a satin bow on the left side; between of a ruby or cherry colour.

3. Circassian turban of silver muslin, with a bird of Paradise,

left side. beneath which is a rich ostrich feather falling very low on the

4- Bonnet of ponceau velvet ; round the front is a rouleau of gros de Naples of the same colour; the velvet trimming is also

edged with gros de Naples, and interspersed with variegated roses. This bounet is very fashionable in black velvet and satin, with pomegranate-blossoms.

I have repeatedly represented to her the necessity of strict economy, and the importance of adopting plans more suitable to her station. I have pleaded the uncertainty of my present trade, and the gloominess of the future prospect, the enormous expense of housekeeping which such conduct has caused, and the exposure which must unavoidably be made, should my efforts in business prove unsuccessful, but all appears useless; she ridicules my arguments; insists upon the necessity of keeping up a gen-front is of lavender colour, and very full, but confined by four teel appearance, and with peculiar pertinacity, continues in her usual career. As a last resource, I have therefore adopted the expedient of Hezekiah Treacle, and hope that this public appeal will prove more successful than my private remonstrances. I remain, Sir,

Your obedt. Servant,

JOHN DIMITY.

NATURAL HISTORY.

LEVIATHAN. The strange New Jersey monster,

5. Bonnet composed of gros de Naples of two colours; the crown, which is round, and rather low, is of lemon colour; the

flat straps, which are continned withinside, which is plain, and has a bunch of ranunculus on the right side. A high trimming with a satin rouleau, as are also the three large puffs or bouil of lavender colonr nearly surrounds the crown, and is edged tons in the front.

MATHEMATICS.

Solution of No. 58, by Miss Agnes. First, suppose each quantity variable and the rest constant:-then will, ay- 2yy=0, or y = ; also

which was taken by the citizens of New Jersey, deno-x2; — 3z2; =0, or 2 = 寿

minated a fish, has arrived in Baltimore, for the

2

examination of the curious. What strikes us with Let n = 40; and substitute in the given equations these values of y and z, and we shall have (a3 — x3)

X

=

2x3

31/3

x2 a3x-x8 X = 4 64/3 Hence, in fluxions, 5a3x

a maximum by the

8x20 and 5a3x4

a 3

8x7, or 5a3 =8x3; therefore, x=

/5; and y

2

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Neat solutions have been received from Amicus; Mr. Jones; Mr. Williams and Mr. Hill.

peculiar surprise are the two legs, terminating with claws from the palms, and situated near the tail. They appear to be not much larger than a man's arm, and the question is, what they could be intended for, so question. little capable as they must have been to support a weight so unwieldy. An intelligent friend has suggested, that this animal must have derived its sustenance from the bottom of the sea; that these legs would serve to propel the body forward, where the water was too shallow for his fins. On sach points conjecture is endless, and often so totally various from fact, that it only serves to confuse and perplex, instead of illuminating the subject. The six rows of teeth, with which the mouth is fortified, are remarkably small, but sharp. It has likewise five gills, folding one over the other, from which it has beeu conjectured, that the animal could live a long time under water. The body is perfectly free from scales, encompassed with a rough skin, somewhat resembling that of the seal. We shall not undertake to describe this phenomenon; it may well be remarked, how little we still know of nature, notwithstanding all the researches of science. This animal is welcomed by the scientific world, as a stranger, whose habits and properties we have yet to learn, and who appears amongst us just to excite, without gratifying,

Question No. 60, by Arithmeticus.

Two travellers, A and B, 100 miles distant from each other, set out to meet. A travels 3 miles in the first hour, 4 in the second, 5 in the third, and so on, increasing each hour's journey by of the distance gone in the preceding hour.

B sets out 3 hours later than A, and goes 10 miles in the first hour, 9 in the second, 8 in the third; decreasing each hour of the distance gone in the preceding hour. Where will these two travellers meet?

tention of publishing their papers through your Miscellany, you shall, agreeably to your desire, receive a parcel every other week. At present, I merely premise, that punctuality is a characteristic of the Concentric Friends; and that at their appointed meetings, epistolary communications are uniformly considered, before any other matters can be entered upon. I am authorised to furnish you with a report of the last meeting; and such of the subjects enumerated, as may be permitted by the respective writers, shall be Occasionally forwarded. A few stanzas of my own, penned on hearing of the demise of the never-to-be-forgotten Jenner, are enclosed; they have no connexion with the Concentric Friends, but are purely the effusion of a grateful individual.

I am, yours, &c. Liverpool, Feb. 4, 1823.

C. MAN, Sec.

In the Reading Room, precisely at six o'clock, P. M. were assembled, F. Medicos, President,C. Man, Secretary, and, H. Constant,-P. Paradox,-and C. Trueman, Members. Simon bury Frivolous, assigning as the cause of his Lightfoot arrived with a note from Friend Ashnon-attendance-"A dangerous cold already indicating influenza." At ten minutes after six

THE DELIBERATION CHAMBER

was entered, and letters and packets presented from corresponding Friends N. NOL,-L. REVIL, and E. BURGH.

The communication of Friend BURGH related to the Theory and Practice of Physic; and, by mutual desire, was handed to the President for his particular opinion against the next meeting. That of Friend REVIL contained a hint for the getting up of four sixpenny tales, each of which should possess a greater portion of Historical fact, and prove more interesting in incident and narration, than the entire Peveril of the puffing Sir Walter! And Friend NoL transmitted a monthly parcel of strictures. Viz ;—a few upon some of the last year's papers of the Green Dragon Club,-a few upon Matrimony,-several upon the comparative merits of the Manchester Iris for 1822, and a lengthy article upon Mr. Abernethy's wish for certain facilities towards the practical study of Human Anatomy.

C. MAN, Sec. Deliberation Chamber, Feb. 3, 1823.

LINES TO JENNER.

Jenner! Immortal Jenner! how

Shall we our gratitude proclaim? Before thy shrine shall nations bow,

And sound to Heav'n thy hallow'd name ?Thy name already spread afar,

O'er sickly realms a healing star!

Shall we the sculptur'd marble raise ?→
By Chantrey's art and skill, combine
Thy form, thy country, and thy praise,
Thy infinite and blest design-
Giving to countless myriads, health!-
To friends, delight!-to Kingdoms, wealth!
Shall we thy portraiture suspend

From infant breasts, and teach them how-
Illustrious Jenner was their friend-
To lisp thy name with rev'rent bow-
And when matur'd, the same to do
With all their young-redeem'd by you!
Yes! on the scroll of time behold
Thy honours and thy deeds sublime
Emblazon'd with the molten gold,
Radiant and durable as time!
With mankind only to decline,
And then but for a crown divine!

C. MAN.

WEEKLY DIARY.

FEBRUARY.

REMARKABLE DAYS.

TUESDAY 11-Shrove Tuesday. Shrove Tuesday (observes a lively writer) is a relic of the carnival, and is more properly called, in some parts of the country, Pancake Tuesday, the shriving or confession of sin taking place in the Shrovetide or Lent, which follows it. It was the interval between flesh-eating and fish-eating, and so they judiciously filled up the time with pudding. The making of the pancakes used to furnish as much amusement in the kitchen as their mastication did in the parlour, the operators piquing themselves on tossing them skilfully in the pan.

WEDNESDAY 12.-Ash Wednesday.

FRIDAY 14.-Saint Valentine. The custom of choosing Valentines is of very long standing, and, like many others of a popular nature, is no more than a corruption of something similar that had prevailed in the time of Paganism. At the celebration of the Roman Lupercalia, amidst a variety of ceremonies, it was the custom to put the names of several young women into a box, from which they were drawn by the men as chance directed. The pastors of the early Christian Church, who endeavoured to eradicate the vestiges of Pagan superstition, substituted, in the present instance, the names of particular saints, instead of those of the women: and, as the festival of the Lupercalia had commenced about the middle of February, they appear to have chozen Saint Valentine's Day for celebrating the new feast.— The following amusing article, on this day, is extracted from the London Magazine for the present month :—

VALENTINE'S DAY.

Where is the village to which Valentines are unknown?

What terra incognita is there-what Ultima Thule (barren of love) to which the sun that rises on this day brings no joy-where the postman's double knock was never heard?

The air may no more be free from birds or summersporting flies, than the earth from its gay and gaudy missives (its butterflies) the February-haunting Valentines.

When letters shall cease to be written (but not till then), when love shall be no more,-then shall this amorous holiday darken and grow common: then shall it be a mere vulgar root (now, how full of rare and sweet flowers!) in the wilderness of days-a grain in the deserts of time,-Valentines pervade all space, like light.

Good-morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day! Thus singeth the mad daughter of the wise Polonius. That a wise man should have a mad daughter! 'Tis odd, and smacks of human infirmity. Not the madness, though, that savoureth of the infirm, but the madness coming from the wisdom, the tainted current from a clear source. What say the rills to this, the springlets, the founts, the ever-noisy ever-talking brooks? Is it not contrary to good descent, to effect and cause, to the lex nature, and so forth ?-But hear her, the pining and mad-melancholy maid :

Good-morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day,
All in the morn betime,

And I a maid at your window
To be your Valentine.

And thou shalt be mine, Ophelia; and I will gather pale snowdrops and the sweet-smelling violet for thee. Thou shalt have a fair nosegay of winter flowers, thou rose of the northern desert; and, if they can be had, daisies (but not the rue), fennel and columbines, as of old; and, if thou wilt, the willow.

Yet this day was meant for merrier things, perhaps. It is a red-lettered day, half-holy; no feast, no fast; bat held free of care by a gentle charter, invested with a rich prerogative, the power of giving pleasure to the young. If the tradition be true, that on this day each bird chooseth his mate, what work bath the carrier pigeon! What rustling of leaves; what chattering and singing in the woods; what billing by the clear waters!Methinks, on this day should Romeo have first seen the gentle Capulet. On this day should Orlando have first glanced at Rosalind; Troilus at the fickle Cressid; Slender (oh! smile not, gentles) at Ann Page. The jealous Moor should have told his first war-story to-day; and to-day Prospero should have broken his spell, and made holiday in his enchanted isle, and crowned the time by giving to the son of Naples his innocent and fair Miranda. Fain would I have Valentine's Day the origin of love, or the completion, an epoch writ in bright letters in Cupid's calendar, a date whence to reckon our passion, a period to which to refer our happiness.

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Once, it is said, our "vulgar ancestors draw names on Valentine's eve, and such drawings were considered ominous: as thus-if Jacob Stiles drew the name of Sally Gates, or vice versa, Jacob and Sally were henceforward considered "as good as" man and wife. I can well fancy how the country couple would look, flying at first in the face of the augury: Sally turning to her neighbour Blossom, and exclaiming, mantling and blushing, half proud and half 'shamed, nonsense!"--Jacob, on the other hand, at something between a grin and a blush, leering on his shouting companions, or expanding a mouth huge enough to swallow every written Valentine in the village. him look (for help) from clown to clown; upwards and downwards; he whist'es, he twirls his smock frock, he stands cross-legged, like the nephew of Mr. Robert Shallow, when the maiden Page invited him honsewards. 'Tis all in vain. The prophecy is upon them; and 'tis odds, but the name of Gates will sink and be merged in some three or six months into the cognomen

of Jacob.

I see

The diffusion of learning, and the "schools for all," have done a great deal of good. We are not, I thank my stars, reduced now to these annual or verbal Valentines. We shut up our blushes (with our verses) in a

sheet of foolscap, and trust them to the protection of

the twopenny post. At C- (where I spent some years) good Mrs. Baily used to go to "the box" at stated periods of the preceding evening, and relieve it from time to time of its too great burthen of love. You might see, towards dusk, girls (in pairs) or straggling youths, dropping their indiscretions into the yawning chasm; sometimes this was boldly done, but oftener timorously, and the quickened step of the amorist retreating from the letter-box, or passing, with an air of indifference, onwards, betrayed all he (or she) wished to conceal. Then the next morning! There was an additional postman employed-the ordinary man, grey-headed, and sure, but slow, was deemed insufficient. The "London letters" were not delivered at the accustomed time: and on asking the maid-servant, she would reply, with a tinge on her cheek, that "she believed it was Valentine's Day." Oh! well believed. She was never mistaken. But the postman comes. "Three for Miss L, four for Miss Cseventeen for Mr. Hush! it will never be believed. It cannot be it is a jest-a fable-a monstrous, impossible-It is the truth-or near it. Oh! those were careless days. They were, but they are gone.

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No Valentines come now, as Crockery would I must bid farewell to all those pleasant periodicals the pierced hearts, and the quaint rhymes, which showed my twopence well spent

-Oh! farewell!

Farewell the billing doves and the bent bow,
The gilded arrows, the aye-fuming torch,
The crooked lines, the letters huge and wrong.
And oh! you painted jokes (of man or maid)
Who humblest love's bad spelling counterfeit,
Farewell! Omega's occupation's gone.

The first Valentine I ever opened was at C. I had but lately left school, and was then a fair, younglooking, active boy of seventeen. I had read all the poets, but the style of this love-letter puzzled me. It compared me to the rose, and the violet, and the curling hyacinth (I had always been anxious that my hair

should curl)-my eyes, I was informed, were like a diamond, and my teeth like pearl or ivory. It certainly seemed odd-odd, but agreeable. I was like the bishop who doubted the authenticity of Gulliver's Travels. To say the truth, thought the writer must be somewhat partial. That she was generous was quite clear, from the expense of which she had been guilty. The Valentine was radiant,-all gold and gay colours, red and yellow, and blue, and embossed, and glittering with devices, all of love. It was like a dream,-so fine. I had never seen any thing like it, except the last scene of a pantomime. I was like Belinda, when -if report say true,

Her eyes first open'd on a billet doux.

In short, I was satisfied,-delighted-what is the word? enchanted!

As I received the first Valentine at C, so also wrote there my first Valentine, my first verse. The the paper crumpled; and, so misused, the soft sheet of writing was disguised, the wax was dotted with a fork, "Bath post" was committed to the letter-box. The next day how I laboured to arrive at a look of indifferhovering on a blush when the subject was mentioned. ence. How I hoped and feared, and was perpetually At last, I heard that had received a very

a common one."

"

Miss

Oh! heart, what rich and delicious

pretty Valentine." Indeed?" Yes, and by no means palpitations were thine. I trod on air; I bounded like a fawn: I was wild with joy. I had sent my loveabout seven o'clock. I laid my " verse to my fair neighbour, (at the next door) and thin partition wall, and actually heard part of the verses evening ear to the

recited on the other side.

The advantage of Valentine-writing is, that it pleases giver and receiver, while it becomes both. It is not like a letter of business,-nor that which passeth between a dun and his debtor, or between master and servant, or Editor and Contributor-nor even between lovers on ordinary occasions, for sometimes there is a This, on the contrary, is a prize, a pleasure without fretfulness even in those, a dispute to be made up. alloy.

Who would not have a Valentine? Is there any one so unprofitably wise as to decline it? Let him stay at home and be thankless. Let him rail at the

quick-jarring knocker and the frequent bell. They can have no delights for him. Yet the chiming of the brass is musical to my ear, and the twanging of the wire harmonious. Oh! lads and lasses, and holiday-loving sages, is not this a delightful day,-this day of Bishop Valentine? His diocese is the air, and be, so saith good Dr. Donne (mark, reader, what a fine line I reveal to thee)

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I own that I am somewhat of a devotee. I love to keep all festivals, to taste all feast-offerings, from fermety (or frumety-frumentum) at Christmas to the pancakes of Shrovetide. These things always seem better on those days; as the bread "in the holidays," is ever better than the bread at school, though it come from the same oven. Then it must be the same? By no meaus-to us. Freedom and home plant a different relish upon the tongue, and the viands are transmuted, sublimed.

What is the on a Good Friday's bun,-is that nothing? What is the goose at Michaelmas? What is the regale at a harvest home,-is that nothing? Are the, cups, the kissing, the boisterous jollity, the tumbling on the fragrant hay, the dancing, the shouting, the singing out of tune-nothing?

Why then, the world and all that's in't is nothing;
The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing.

It is WE who make the world. It is our imagination which lifts earth to heaven, and robes our women in the garb of angels. And is this not better and wiser than if we were to measure with the square and the rule, and to fashion our enjoyments by the scanty materials (the clay) before us, instead of subliming them to the uttermost stretch of our own immortal capacity?

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