Up! up! my heart and walk abroad, fling cark and care aside,

Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful waters glide; Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal tree,

Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky, in rapt tranquil lity.

"The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to the hand, And, like the kiss of maiden love, the breeze is sweet and bland;

The daisy and the butter-cup are nodding courteously, It stirs their blood with kindest love to bless and welcome thee:

And mark how with thine own thin locks-they now are silvery grey

To suck once more in every breath their little souls away, And feed my fancy with fond dreams of youth's bright sum

mer day,

When, rushing forth like untamed colt, the reckless truant boy

Wander'd through greenwoods all day long-a mighty heart of joy!

"I'm sadder now, I have had cause, but oh! I'm proud to think

That each pure joy-fount lov'd of yore, I still delight to drink. Leaf, blossom, blade, hill, valley, stream, the calm unclouded sky,

Still mingle music in my dreams, as in the days gone by. When summer's loveliness and light fall round me dark and cold,

I'll bear indeed life's heaviest curse--a heart that hath wax'd

old!"

It was not likely that persons who could write thus, should long continue to write in the Paisley Magazine.

The Elgin Literary Magazine is a little periodical, which goes on very modestly and unpretendingly, and, we have no doubt, adds to the amusement of that portion of the inhabitants of this country who have taken up their residence along the shores of the Murray Frith. The papers, entitled "Half Hours," are cleverly written; and it ranks among its poetical contributors the celebrated Mrs Richardson of Dumfries.

Thoughts on the Salvation of Infants, occasioned by some Passages in the Memoir of the late Isabella Campbell of Fernicarry, Roseneath, in a Letter to the Rev. Robert Burns, D.D., &c. By John Thomson, jun. Esq. Glasgow. 1830.

THIS is a sensible brochure, and lashes with becoming severity the gross heresies of Mr Story of Roseneath, a clergyman, who presents the anomaly of belonging to the established church, though certainly not to the established faith. It appears that this same Mr Story, like a ridiculous goose as he is, has found out, among other things, that all little children are as full of guilt, and as worthy objects of wrath, as the most hoary-headed votaries of depravity. To waste words in answering such doctrines as these, is a mere loss of time. They are the indications of a hard heart, and an empty head.

History of France and Normandy, from the Accession of Clovis to the Battle of Waterloo. By W. C. Taylor, A. B. London. Whittaker and Co. 1830. Pp. 404. MR TAYLOR is the author of a work lately published,

gay.'

"There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of yon sky, But hath its own wing'd mariners to give it melody. Thou see'st their glittering fans outspread, all gleaming like red gold,

And hark! with shrill pipe musical, their merry course they hold. God bless them all! these little ones, who far above this earth,

Can make a scoff of its mean joys, and vent a nobler mirth.

"But soft! mine ear up-caught a sound, from yonder wood it came,

The spirit of the dim green glade, did breathe his own glad

considerable degree of approbation. He now presents us with a concise, lucid, and correct History of France, which, in our opinion, is well adapted for the use of schools. The eventful days of Napoleon, although a hackneyed enough subject, are run over with considerable tact and skill, and afford a clear and distinct view of those stirring times. This work is likewise rendered more useful, by a Genealogical Table of the French Kings, a Chronological Index, and a neat Map of France, engraved by that prince of modern map-engravers, Sidney Hall.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

A CHAPTER ON CHIMNEYS, WITH A FEW
REMARKS ON CHIMNEY-SWEEPS.

By the Author of the "Traditions of Edinburgh."
CHIMNEYS have characters! I am convinced of that.

They are a people, and have minds, dispositions, temperaments, and passions, like other folks. They have also diseases, like the human species, and do not want for their "doctors!" They are affected by east winds, moreover,

just as much as any of us, and have their own inexplicable fits of the sullens, and are fully as testy, when coutradicted, as ourselves.

There is a set of people who pretend to "cure" chimneys. But who ever heard of a chimney being cured? Nobody! The truth is, a chimney's disorders generally proceed from its original physical constitution, and one might just as well talk of expelling a hereditary disease from a human being, as one of this sort from a smoking The only way is to destroy the chimney altogether, and create it anew. A "doctor" will speak to you of "old wives," and of "cans," one-mouthed, two-mouthed, and poly-mouthed; but put no faith in smoke-doctors. You might just as well expect a human doctor to cure you, when on your death-bed, by ordering you a new nightcap.

one.

But the maladies which affect chimneys often proceed from their situation in life. Circumstances govern us all, and chimneys too. A chimney of my acquaintance once testified this in a remarkable manner. It was a very young chimney, in the New Town, and belonged to a house three stories in height. Now this chimney was as well-behaved and well-regulated a chimney, as one could have seen in a summer's day; and had a juvenile vivacity, which could not be repressed by the east wind itself. At last, however, it became, all of a sudden, very irregular in its conduct, and seemed to have lost all its former health and spirits. Doctors were called in, who examined the patient, and prescribed cans, old wives, &c., which were speedily got. All would not do, however; instead of recovering, it became worse, and seemed, by the increased vehemence with which it repelled the advances of its friend the smoke, to indicate that the doctors did not understand the nature of its trouble. Alas! it was not the body, but the mind of the chimney, that was diseased! It might have addressed its officious physicians in the words of Macbeth :

"Canst thou minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow?" &c.
"Then throw physic to the dogs,
I'll none on't!"

My sensitive young friend was affronted at the very idea of these fellows attempting to cure its grievances by commonplace applications. A full convocation of all the smoke-doctors in town (including the Canongate) being at length called, and their deliberations being assisted by some experienced builders, it was discovered that the cause of all its woes was the tall and over-topping gable of a contiguous house, whose chimneys carried their heads at least twenty feet higher than that of the afflicted chimney in question; so that envy-sheer envy alone, was the occasion of all its ailments. This was proved to my full satisfaction, by what happened afterwards; for the patient being, as it were, continued into the tall gable, and allowed to carry as high a head as its neighbours, never gave its masters any more trouble; and when I last went to see how it did, I thought the smoke which issued so freely and complacently from its mouth seemed to say, "You see I have at length gained my point, and am content!"

Though I allow that chimneys may be jealous of each others' heights, and sometimes look with an evil can at the honour or prosperity of their neighbours, I do not think that they are in general a democratic people. Many a chimney do I know of very humble height, and even unadorned with cans, and yet very decent, quiet chimneys

for there are kings among them. There is the tall, red, regal chimney of the Coal Gas Work at the Back of the Canongate, which, on state occasions, wears a splendid crown of gas light, and stands pre-eminent over all the chimneys in the Old Town, like Saul among the people. No one can doubt that this is the King of Chimneys, whether for the importance of its avocations, or the grandeur of its appearance. The tall chimneys at Portobello and Pinkie are two solitary monarchs without subjects. The shorter, but sturdier and equally royal, chimney of the Waverley Gas Work in the New Town, is as yet in the same condition, but will soon, I hope, be at the head of an extensive and numerous population of chimneys.

That chimneys are sentient beings, nobody can dispute. Le Sage, an author of no little discernment, says that they can speak. I must confess I never heard them pronounce articulate words, or carry on conversations; but there is one thing of which I am certain,—they can howl! I have heard them howl in a high wind, in a very sensible style-almost like speaking-only the sentences not connected. In these cases, however, I consider them to be only expostulating or quarrelling with their enemy, the wind. I remember that my father's house at had two chimneys, one at each end of the house. Upon these my childish fancy often speculated. I thought I could discern a sort of appearance of comradeship or companionship between them. They inclined in towards each other, in a friendly way, as it were; and it seemed to me as if one resembled Mr Kerr, the other Doctor Brydon, two of our neighbours who often dined together. I am sure these vents were intimate acquaintances. It so happened that one of them was at length honoured with a can. The other was not envious, but seemed still to maintain the same kindly inclination towards his preferred companion as ever-perhaps considering, with justice, that he really required what he had got, on account of his greater exposure to their common foe, the east wind.

Some of the chimneys at were very strange-looking figures, especially those upon thatched houses. There were some thatched houses near the school, with chimneys of this sort. My heart is smitten when I remember how cruel we were to these grotesque but inoffensive chimneys. There was one belonging to the cottage of a poor old widow woman, at which our scorn and our stones were particularly directed. It was constructed of turf, upon a frame-work of upright sticks-the whole so dilapi dated, that there was scarcely any thing but the sticks left. Most unfortunately for the chimney, it was not altogether of an upright character, but inclined a little to one side, and seemed to look down upon us school-boys with open mouth, inviting our attacks. We assuredly did not spare it; for every day, we employed the whole quarter of an hour previous to the opening of the school in throwing missiles of any sort we could lay our hands on, at and down its gaping crater; and not a day passed without old Luckie coming into the school-room, complaining of our wickedness, and exhibiting the melancholy fragments of black cutty pipes and little black tea-pots, which, she said, had suffered from our stones, while lying innocuously by her fire-side. As to the immense quantities of soot which we shook down upon her kail-pot, as it simmered above her little fire, no account was ever taken of that; for the poor old mumbling body had fortunately lost the taste of her mouth, and never discovered the plenteous accession of ingredients which we made to her spare and simple diet.

I remember hearing a traditionary account of one being cleared of its venerable soot by the goodman, who had accomplished his singular task by going head foremost into a sack, and ascending by a ladder to the rannle-tree, where he stood and rubbed the sides of the chimney all round with his shoulders! This custom might be practised with effect in the cure of lum-bag-o !

66

Speaking of chimney-sweeping, we come to chimneysweeps, who, by the by, are a very noticeable set of men. A friend of mine, in guarding against contact with them on the streets, calls them angels of darkness, in contradistinction to bakers, whom he denominates angels of light, though I consider the one tribe to be fully as great annoyances as the other. When I pass a chimney-sweep on the street, I myself wearing light-coloured clothes at the time, I may say, Conjuro te, Diabole !” and avoid being rude to his person; but in my heart I envy and admire him. Chimneysweeps see and explore a part of the world which nobody else can see and explore. They surpass the prodigal son in the "Vicar of Wakefield," who saw the outside of the best houses in Amsterdam, for any body may see that; but to chimney-sweeps alone is it reserved to see the roofs of the best houses. They walk in glorious pre-eminence over the heads of the rest of mankind; and cast their eyes over the surface of an upper world, which none of us children of the ground shall ever see. I have heard them tell strange and wild stories of the dangers they have passed, and the roofs of the lands they have seen, like sailors returned from distant voyages; and, what is very strange, there is scarcely a chimney in the town, of which they do not know the whole nature and character, as well as the owner of the house himself. Nay, I have often been surprised, on calling a chimney-sweep to administer unto a moody or diseased vent, to observe how familiar he was with its history and peculiarities. How they acquire this wonderful knowledge, it is impossible to conceive. I suspect that they talk to each other of nothing but the various chimneys which have come under their hands, and so, each communicating to his neighbour the results of his experience, the whole become, as it were, universally acquainted. I remember once calling an old chimney-sweep to a very strange chimney in my premises, which, before ascending the gable, went across the ceiling of an adjoining shop, and, indeed, was all at right angles. Before commencing operations upon this outré specimen of the crooked tribe of chimneys, he frightened me into the offer of a double fee, by some dreadful traditionary recollections of boys being smothered in it forty years ago, when he was a climbing-boy himself, and of plummet-balls in later times being dispatched down its unimaginable angularities, in order to discover the bottom, and being never more heard of by their disconsolate owners, whose damages were of course made good by the then proprie

We have long been of opinion that elocution, or the art of giving musical and attractive intonations to language, is a branch of education too much neglected in Scotland. It is rarely, indeed, that, either in the pulpit or at the bar, or among any of our public or private speakers in this country, we hear common justice done to our mother tongue. A sort of old John Knox presbyterian contempt is by far too common among us for the graces of correct speaking and reading. It is true, we are a thinking people, but it does not therefore follow, that thoughts are every thing, and language nothing. Correct enunciation

makes even a commonplace thought pleasing, and gives to a spirited and original sentiment tenfold energy and effect. This is almost too self-evident a truth to be stated; yet we have only to look around us to perceive that it is everywhere neglected. "I have no desire that my son should either read or speak like a teacher of elocution," says some gentleman of the old school; and all the other gentlemen of the old school, pushing round the portwine with a most emphatic jerk, chime in with the observation, and the point is settled. Now, there are two fallacies implied in this same observation. The first is, that all teachers of elocution are pompous pedants; whereas only those are such who do not understand their profes sion. The second is, that it is not advisable that a young man should read or speak as if he were master of elocution; which is equivalent to saying, that it is not advisable he should be able to put to the very best possible use his organs of speech. From not attending to the proper mode of distributing the emphasis upon words, the simplest sentences are rendered not only ambiguous and unmeaning, but often monotonous, unnatural, and dissonant.

One or two of our largest towns afford a dubious encouragement to one or two teachers of elocution; but in general, both at our public schools, our private academies, and in ordinary life, the matter is entirely neglected. In Edinburgh, Messrs Jones and Roberts seem to take the lead in this department; but we believe the former has been longer established and more successful than the latter. We attended, however, with pleasure, Mr Roberts's Lecture and Readings on Saturday last; and having been since favoured with a perusal of the remarks he then delivered on the study of elocution, we present our readers with the following extract, the sentiments contained in which entirely coincide with our own :

A knowledge of elocution is of incalculable advantage; for a person who is ignorant of its laws, is almost sure to overlook some of the excellencies, and even the most striking beauties, of literary productions. Their merits, so far as the composition is concerned, he may indeed estimate, according to any assignable standard of taste; but great part of their soul or spirit will infallibly be lost to his perceptions, in the attempt to give it utterance. I am sorry to say that elocution, at the present day, is not sought after with that avidity which its great and united powers so justly deserve. This comparative inattention is to be accounted for, either by the fact of its merits being but partially known, or by a scepticism as to the possibility of acquiring a knowledge of the art through the medium of set rules. This last obstacle I could remove, by a reference to those numerous individuals who have actually experienced the advantages of systematic instruction, and now give public evidence of its efficacy. Many, although fully aware of the beauties, and although they have been made feelingly to acknowledge the powers, of such a systematic application,-many have rejected its adoption, because they thought it too theatrical, and because they could not reconcile it to their minds to assume tones indicative of what they did not really feel. To such, we may with great justice reply, that, to pronounce a pathetic subject in the same unfeeling and careless manner we would read the account of a horse-race, or to deliver the nervous harangue of some famed hero to his soldiers on the eve of battle, in the soft, plaintive strain we would do an elegy, because we did not feel the one, nor were identically the other, would be as preposterous as to chant a funeral dirge in the time and manner of a country jig,-or to sing a lively air in the drawling tone of an old penitential psalm, because we happened, on the former occasion, to be in a merry humour, or, on the latter, to be in a melancholy one. In short, to read or pronounce any subject uncharacteristically, would be as absurd as to array the inmate of an almshouse in scarlet and fine linen, or to clothe the king on the throne in linsey-woolsey and tatters.

Mr Roberts himself we know to be a meritorious and useful teacher of elocution; and, from the specimens he gave us upon Saturday, we are satisfied that he reads distinctly, judiciously, and well.

These notes, we are quite aware, are extremely defective. But the most detailed and ratiocinative criticism would be to no purpose without an actual inspection of the works themselves. It is in pictures, not in books, that we must study painting. The chief characteristic of the great Italian school was the union in its productions of the richest and most daring poetical feeling, with the most painful study of the mechanical details of the art.

the unseen emotions which lay far down have been raised to the surface, seldom wait on Young. He is a calm and cloudless moonlight,-not a sudden sunbeam. We like him much; yet there are times when we feel a craving for "sterner stuff," for the flashing lightnings of that splendid little man, Kean, whom Lord Byron said "was a soul;" or for the kindred genius of that prince of living vocalists, Braham, to carry us away to the shipwrecked vessel settling heavily amidst the solitudes of the Bay of

THE DRAMA.

"AROUSE thee! arouse thee! my brave Swiss boy!"let us give the public a small jog. They are beginning to fall asleep over the old legitimate drama, and the glory of their presence is departing out of the Theatre Royal. Certes, for the last month the Management has not been much in pocket. Sages have been consulting the stars to find out the causes, but they lie nearer home. Firstly, in the early part of the season the theatre was patronised to a more than ordinary degree, and there is now a slight reaction;-secondly, Vandenhoff is not quite so great a favourite here as he once was, which is partly his own fault ;-thirdly, Young is liked and admired, but, being too well known, he lacks variety ;—fourthly, the number of evening parties at this present writing is altogether overwhelming,-February has actually groaned under them, -nobody has been in bed o' nights, and March does not promise to be a much more sedate month ;-tenthly, and to conclude, it is a melancholy fact, that tragedy is not popular in Edinburgh. Black bugles and velvet inexpressibles appear to have no charms for us modern Athenians; we take little interest in white cambric pocket-handkerchiefs; and, if the truth must be told, the "Oh!" of a gentleman or lady dying in the presence of the lamps, does not appear to awaken those sensations which it ought to produce upon well-regulated minds. All these things are to us and our excellent friend, the Manager, matter of deep regret; but to attempt to better the affair by talking of it, would argue a weakness of intellect, totally inconsistent with our naturally shrewd and penetrating character. All we shall do in the meantime is, to give the public a hint, that as soon as they have enjoyed themselves as much as they possibly can out of the theatre, its doors are open, and something or other to amuse them is always going on within. Let them enter or not, just as they please,-it is quite "hoptional,”—only if they stay away it is their own loss. We are humbly convinced that this is the best mode of dealing with the public. They are a capricious set;-try to force them into a thing, and they won't budge; appear independent of them, and they will flock to you in crowds.

It is difficult to say any thing new of Young. All the world knows that he is a fine polished actor, with a sound judgment, a cultivated taste, and a most melodious voice. All he does is the result of careful thinking, and of correct, though not impassioned feeling. Hence we do not speak of the genius of Young ;--he is a man of talent, but nothing more, In parts which do not require the exertion of any violent passion, he is, perhaps, without a rival. His lago, a cool, deliberate, calculating villain, is the very man,—his Brutus, a patriot upon principle, rather than upon impulse, is collected and impressive, his Lord Townly, a man of high honour, and steady but subdued feelings, is a representation which it must do all husbands good to see. Young, in short, in what we may call the less difficult developements of mind, is always at home. His chief faults are, that beyond a certain point he cannot go, and that we may always calculate, with the most unerring certainty, on the manner in which he will perform any given part. Those sudden bursts of applause that shake a theatre to its foundation, indicating that the deep

Nevertheless, let it not be forgotten that as, in an ancient Grecian temple, the effect does not so much depend upon the beauty of any individual part, as upon the harmonious arrangement of the whole, so there is a completeness about Young's personifications, a never-flagging accuracy and refinement-not the less likely to be long remembered or worthy of being highly appreciated, that they do not take your feelings captive at once, but gradually win over your approval and admiration.

Of Vandenhoff, we shall not at present speak. We think he has benefited somewhat by our hints, but not yet to the extent we could wish. His Edgar, in " King Lear," was, in many respects, a spirited performance; but why that piece of most unnecessary declamation, as he leads Cordelia into the hut for shelter? Vandenhoff is too fond of saying ordinary things as if they were not ordinary, and of always going off the stage with a flourish.—The part in which Miss Jarman has most distinguished herself, during Young's visit, is that of Beatrice, in " Much Ado about Nothing." We know of no actress who could have so completely identified herself with this character, infusing into it a degree of animation, and an exuberance of comic talent, which carried every thing before it, and kept the audience in a perpetual state of delightful excitation. Were we not an old, hackneyed, and crabbed critic, " for lady's love unfit," we should ourselves indite a sonnet, or some similar vanity, to Miss Jarman; but we must leave this to younger and gayer men. Old Cerberus.