interrupted by their unremitting prayers. They also manufactured, independent of other articles, large quantities of fine flannels, the quafity of which was in high request all round the country, and large orders were executed for so distant a market as Bristol.

Mr. Harris died in July, 1773. The produce of their labours was all made over to him without controul, though exclusively and conscientiously applied to their use, and the extension of the establishment. By his will, he bequeathed the whole of his possessions, hereditary and accumulated, to the maintenance of the family for ever, on the strict principles of its foundation. He left two trustees, with regulations for the replacing them, who were to live in the house, receive the earnings of the people, conduct the pecuniary arrangements and devotional services, and in every respect exercise that plenary authority, which he had himself preserved. He was married, and had a daughter, to whom he left nothing, except an apartment in the house on the same terms as the others, if ever she chose to become a member of the family. It is, however, to be observed, that her mother's fortune, not inconsiderable, rendered miss Harris independent of her father, But this independence, and all worldly cares and possessions, she was to relinquish if ever she came to Trevecca. She did not make that election, for she married a gentleman of Brecknock, of the name of Prichard, before Mr. Harris's death, There have been, within the recollection of persons residing at Talgarth, one hundred and forty efficient members of this extraordinary family, besides children: there are now pot more than sixty; but the strict ritual of the place is still preserved; the character of industrious seclusion and eccentric fanaticism is sedulously maintained; and the visitor of Trevecca may see it now, as in the days of the founder. There is service in the house three times a day all the year round,

the time of harvest not excepted: each person is allowed a certain proportion of absences, on the same plan as the attendance of chapel is regulated for the students in college, and if the number is exceeded, the offender loses the benefit of the institution, however reasonable may be his excuse, or urgent the plea of his necessity. The service, though so frequent, is very long; and a numerous attendance is, by these regulations, constantly secured. It were much to be wished that it were better worth attending!

I happened to arrive there, without any previous knowledge of the place or institution, about three o'clock on a Sunday, when a number of decently-dressed and well-behaved people were assembling; with whose manners on the outside of their chapel I was well pleased ; but the inside exhibited such a melancholy exhibition of fanatical fatuity, as, happily for the honour of human intellect, is rarely to be met, but among these jumping enthusiasts. The speaker had his face and head completely muffled with a red pocket-handkerchief tied under his chin. The cause of this might have been candidly ascribed to the toothach, had I not observed at Brecknock and elsewhere, that the preachers of these jumping sects uniformly array themselves in a similar paraphernalia, probably in an ostentatious show of squalid piety. The rest of his apparel was consistently mean; and all his air and manner indicated the lowest ignorance, though I could not judge of his language, that being Welsh. Its effects, however, atoned in power for what it might want in elegance, or the means of rational conviction. The groans of his hearers, sometimes in a solo part, and sometimes in chorus, corresponded with the scarcely human contortions and ejaculations of the preacher, Some stood, some knelt, and some were stretched upon the floor in prostrate humiliation. I did not, however, stay for the animating sound of Glory to the Lamb, lest the forgetfulness of su

VISIBLE beauty, abstracted from all mental sympathies or intellectual fitness, consists in harmonious, but yet brilliant and contrasted combinations of light, shade, and colour; blended, but not confused; and broken, but not cut into masses; and it is not peculiarly in straight or curve, taper or spiral, long or short, little or great objects, that we are to seek for these; but in such as display to the eye intricacy of parts, and variety of tint and surface. The perceptions of visible projection and visible distance are artificial. And hence, smoothness being properly a quality perceivable only by the touch, and applied metaphorically to the objects of the other senses, we often apply it improperly to those of vision; assigning smoothness, as a cause of visible beauty, to things which, though smooth to the touch, cast the most sharp, edgy, and angular reflections on the eye; and those reflections are all that the eye feels, or naturally perceives; its perception of projecting form, or tangible smoothness, being, as before observed, entirely artificial or acquired, and therefore unconnected with pure sensation. The reflections from the polished coats of very sleek and pampered animals are harsh and angular, and the outlines of their bodies sharp and edgy: wherefore,

whatever visible beauties they may possess do not consist in their smoothness.

The picturesque has a character distinct from that of the sublime and the beautiful, and equally independent of the art of painting, though it has been pointed out by that art, and is one of its most striking ornaments. The name is not material. There are certain qualities which uniformly produce the same effects in all visible objects, and even in objects of hearing, distinguishable as a class from all others. These qualities are variety and intricacy; the latter of which, in landscape, is that disposition of objects, which, by partial and uncertain concealments, excites and nourishes curiosity.Roughness, therefore, sudden variation, and a certain degree of irregularity, are ingredients in the picturesque; as smoothness, gradual variation, and a certain degree of uniformity are in the beautiful.

While beauty acts by relaxing the fibres somewhat below their natural tone, and is accompanied by an inward sense of melting and lan, guor, the effect of the picturesque is curiosity, which keeps the fibres at their full tone.

If we examine our feelings on a warm genial day, in a spot full of the softest beauties of nature, the fragrance of spring breathing around us, pleasure then seems to be our natural state; to be received, not sought after; it is the happiness of existing to sensations of delight only; we are unwilling to move, almost to think, and desire only to feel and to enjoy. How different is that active pursuit of pleasure, when the fibres are braced by a keen air, in a wild, romantic situation; when the activity of the body almost keeps pace with that of the mind, and eagerly scales every rocky promontory, explores every new recess ! Such is the difference between the beautiful and the picturesque.

One principal effect of smoothness is, that it gives an appearance of quiet and repose; roughness, on the contrary, a spirit and animation:

hence, where there is a want of smoothness, and consequently of repose, there is less beauty; and where there is no roughness, there is a want of stimulus and spirit, and consequently of picturesqueness. We might illustrate this distinction in a variety of visible objects; in buildings, in water, in trees, in animals, in men, and in pictures. And in music, however like a solecism it may be to speak of picturesqueness, yet movements which abound in sudden, unexpected, and abrupt transitions; in a certain playful wildness of character, and an appearance of irregularity, are no less analogous to similar scenery in nature, than the concerto or the chorus to what is grand and beautiful to the eye.

For the Literary Magazine.

ITALIAN PIETY.

A GREAT many years ago, so many that nobody can tell the exact number, the people of Florence began to build a church; but whatever advance they made in the day, like Penelope's web, was destroyed in the night. Upon this ill success, they determined to take two young unbroken steers, and yoke them to-, gether with a great stone hanging down between their necks; and, setting them off, wherever they should stop, to erect there the church. In this they did very right, for the worship they intended was certainly fitter for the judgment of beasts than of men. But to my story. The place at which the animals became tired was about seven miles from the city, among some prune trees belonging to the family of the Buondelmonti. Here they set to work to clear the ground, and dig the foundation, when a lamentable voice struck their ears from below. On this, one of the workmen threw away his pickaxe; and moving the loose earth more lightly, found the image of the Virgin Mary in terra

cotta (a species of baked clay), with a child in her arms, and a scar on her forehead that had occasioned the aforesaid cry. This wonderful discovery made them proceed with great alacrity in their work and she had soon not only a large habitation, but a new order was constituted to her honour and service, with great and unusual privileges annexed to it. And, upon all general calamities ever since, she is conducted with great pomp into the city of Florence, and remains in the Duomo till, upon frequent prayers and remonstrances, she is so good as to remove or remedy the evil. An inundation of the Arno (says a female traveller in 1741) being the occasion of her present coming among us, her entry was preceded by all the religious orders, two and two; the gentlemen and others carrying lighted flambeaux. On each side the guards were drawn out; the streets, made clean, were crowded with the common people; and the windows were adorned with tapestry, damask, &c. and filled with ladies. In a large box, about the size of a woman, covered with seven rich mantles, having as many candles stuck before, and a canopy over it, passed the Dama incognita; for as this image is only a tile, the priests very justly fear that it would rather raise contempt than veneration if it was seen, and therefore have spread amongst the people a notion that whoever sees it is immediately struck blind. She still remains at the cathedral; whither all the great vulgar, and the little, go to pay their devotions. But the weather, having not at all mended since her arrival, they have deferred her return till the sun shines, that it may be attributed to her; and in the mean time they find out people possessed with devils, that she may divert herself in driving them out. She was followed in her march by the senate of forty-eight, in their crimson robes, with all the officers of justice.

I remember, when I was at Lucca (says the same observer), a knight of

Malta who led me about the cathedral which is a very ancient one, perceiving that I looked at what appeared to me a better sort of sentry box, standing on one side of the middle aisle, told me that it was the repository of the Volto Santo; and perceiving, by my manner of answering, that I did not understand what he meant, he told me that a great sculptor having designed a crucifix, and not being able to perform it to his mind, went to bed very much discontented; and on the next morning this was brought to him by angels, ready made, from heaven. I asked of what material it was formed? he answered, of wood; and I very gravely replied, I did not know before that trees grew in heaven. He said (believing me really surprised at my new discovery), that God hath a mind to show his power. This, once a year, and once only, is exposed; at which time, they say, people are so eager to see it, that, crowding in, many break their limbs, and some lose their lives: yet at the same time their glory is to admit no Jews, jesuits, nor inquisition in their territory.

For the Literary Magazine.

SKETCH OF ST. HELENA.

THE island of St. Helena has been in the possession of Europeans during three hundred years; it has been visited by men of science, and is a refreshing station for the shipping of the greatest trading company in the world; yet it has remained so long without its own historian; a circumstance, which, considering the rage for making, and publishing, and reading accounts of voyages and travels, is somewhat inexplicable.

This island lies in the Atlantic ocean, at nearly a thousand miles south of the equinoctial line, and about as many from the coast of Africa. From its great elevation,

and the purity of the surrounding atmosphere, it is seen at the distance of seventy or eighty miles. On a nearer approach, it assumes a ragged, black, and desolate appearance. Its indented coast measures twenty-eight miles in circumference. Its greatest length is ten miles, and its greatest breadth between six and seven. The hills nearest to the sea are from eight hundred to fourteen hundred feet in height. Those in the interior are still more elevated; and the loftiest peak of the central ridge rises to 2692 feet above the level of the sea. The higher regions abound in verdure and luxuriant vegetation; while the lower hills on the coast, and most of the valleys that lie between them, are not only naked and barren, but, from their mouldering composition, and the decay which has taken place, they have an aspect of rudeness and desolation, which it would be difficult to describe, and not easy to conceive, without having seen them.

The island was discovered by the Portuguese, on the 21st of May, 1508, or St. Helen's day, from which circumstance it derived its name. It was found without any human inhabitant, without quadrupeds, and almost without birds. It has remained in possession of the English since the year 1674.

The sea tortoise, which now frequents the narrow strands and coves about the shore much seldomer than formerly, is perhaps the only creature whose ancient retreat has been disturbed by foreign intrusion. In appropriating and subduing the wastes of nature, only to extend and multiply her productions, in diffusing life, together with the means of supporting and rendering it comforta ble, and in effecting these benevolent purposes without injury or injustice to others, man would exercise a noble prerogative, befitting the rank which he holds in the creation: but it is to be lamented that Europeans have seldom traversed the ocean for the purpose of practising this rare beneficence. The progress of their discoveries,

instead of diffusing the benefits of nature, and communicating the advantages of culture to remote lands and their inhabitants, are marked only by rapine and injustice. From the painful recital of the wrongs committed by them on the opposite shores of America and Africa, we may turn, with a momentary satisfaction, to contemplate the appropriation and improvement of a desolate and barren spot; the rise of an establishment, effected without injury to any one; and a little colony speaking the language of England, in a remote island of the Æthiopic

ocean.

The hills, of which the island is composed, are formed of beds of lava, which vary in their depth, colour, and texture. The predominant rock is a heavy, close-grained basalt, of a flinty hardness, generally of a dark blue or black, though sometimes red, or party-coloured. It is always regularly fissured, and runs in distinct layers, which manifest a visible tendency to regular forms. In a few places, the whole is truly prismatic. The columns are usually perpendicular, but sometimes oblique, and often beautifully curved. The summits and bases of the rocks are frequently marked by cells and caverns: but these last also sometimes occur in the centre of the. mass, and accompanied by a curious circumstance. In a quarry, situated in the interior part of the island, where these blue rocks are dug out, for the purposes of building, and where they readily separate in a regular shape, the stone when broken is found to have many large internal cavities, which contain a pure and wholesome water. They are generally quite filled with this water, which is shut up in the body of a rock, of the closest and most compact texture.

Several of the hills are argillaceous, and composed of horizontal and parallel strata, penetrated by perpendicular veins of loose and broken rock. From their disjointed texture, the vertical strata, which occupy the steep declivities, become

subject to what may be literally termed dilapidation.

In these places, they are seldom observed to be elevated much above the face of the hill, as the fragments separate and tumble down, in proportion as the surrounding soft parts decay, or are washed away: yet on the very summit of the hill, a portion of the stratum frequently remains entire, and rises to an amazing height. There is a singular groupe of these detached masses on the south side of the island, to which the inhabitants have given the names of Lot, Lot's Wife and Daughters. They rise to an astonishing height above the top of the hills on which they stand; and though they seem, at first sight, detached and unconnected masses, they are found, on examination, to form a part of the vertical strata, and probably from their position have resisted the decay which has taken place in the declivities. They are composed of distinct fragments, such as have been described, and have a most striking appearance, surrounded by deep chasms and tremendous precipices, and with clusters of argillaceous hills, the most picturesque and romantic, whose summits are all regularly fashioned; and discover every tint of colour, excepting that of vegetable green. Over all this part of the island, which borders on Sandy Bay, there is a wildness in the surrounding scenery, surpassing every thing which the writer of this has ever

seen.

One feels here, as if transported into a new planet, where every object strikes by its novelty, and is altogether unlike any thing which he has met with before. All the surrounding hills, cliffs, rocks, and precipices are so strangely fashioned, and so fantastically mixed and blended, that they resemble more the aerial shapes, which we see among the clouds, than any thing composed of denser materials.

The whole surface of the island is overspread with loose fragments of the blue basaltic rock, intermixed with light, spongy, and porous stones, of various hues. No sand