that there was to be a continuation of the work. The round each other, (in them 'ere fiery latitudes they're present volume is a fulfilment of the promise then made; over ceremonious,) and he spinning her some yarn, wit and we are happy to state, that in varied interest and ex- his lips so close, that his breath as he spoke fanned ber tensive usefulness, it will not be found inferior to its pre-cheek, and slightly lifted her long and lovely locks, while decessor. In the department of this work now before us, the author has treated of the natural history of the two first seasons of the year, spring and summer, in a manner which will please every one who takes an interest in the wonderful and beautiful works of creation in earth, air, sea, and sky. A considerable number of engravings illustrate the volume. old. life. WELL, you must know, that about fifty years ago, 1 was bound 'prentice aboard the Saucy Nan. I was then but a whippersnapper of a little chap, about twelve years 'Twas the first voyage I ever made, and I got enough of it to make me remember it all the days of my We were bound to the Spanish main, but first to touch at St Domingo, to take in more hands there. We set sail from the Thames on a Friday, and arrived quite safe at St Domingo. But what's begun on a Friday never turns out well. We carried eighteen guns and a hundred men, and were going to make a cruize on the Dons, as I suppose you've all guessed. The skipper went ashore at St Domingo, and in a few days sent off all the hands we were to get. My eyes! they were a queer set,-blacks, whites, copper-coloured, and all sorts! The skipper soon came after them, bringing such a neat little girl with him as I've never What top-lights she had!—and such a foot, just as if it was cut out on purpose to trip a deck. She seen since. was as beautiful a little hooker as ever came off Nature's stocks. Every one of her timbers all light, fore and aft, from stem to starn. Then such rosy lips!—and when she opened them, what a set of ivories she showed! I'm blowed if there was a single chap aboard that wouldn't have flung himself right off the maintop into the sea for a kiss of them! I being so young, and a handy little fellow, the skipper promoted me from cabin-boy, to be lady's maid to Miss Elrisa, of which I was prouder than if I'd been made a reefer in the service. (What are you laughing at, you ill-mannered land-lubberly swab? Wasn't I the only young 'un aboard, and think you he'd have mnade a 'fore-mast man lady's maid? 'Twould have been a rum sort of a job, I lay.) The skipper called her his wife, but we all knew better, for we'd eyes, and were pretty pos she hadn't a clargyman's commission of matrimony about her; for you see, I being lady's maid, had to sleep in a small cabin a little for ard of the skipper's, and at times I've heard her crying, and saying to him, "Oh, if I was only spliced to you, Harry, I could then be happy!" and I told this for'ard among the men. I gathered, too, that she was some planter's daughter, who'd run away, to make a voyage with our skipper. 'Twas nat'ral that she should wish to be 'mong Christian whites, instead of a pack of black heathenish rascals that were about her father's. Well, as soon as they came aboard, we made all sail, and stood away to the sow-east. All went on well between the skipper and madam. Who so loving as they? Many a time, in the cool of the evening, just as the sun was setting, and the sea looking like gold, and the breeze so delicious, you might have fancied 'twas wafting the scent of a thousand spice-trees on its wings, have we seen them two sitting just aft the wheel, with their arms she with her lips half-parted, and her eyes fixed steadily and fondly on him, hung upon every word he said, plainly telling us all that her whole life was his, and that in him all her happiness was placed. He usedn't to mind me at all, or the man at the wheel; but if he caught any of the rest with their eyes turned aft, blow me. they'd get it! You must know, that the mate was a very good-looking young fellow, and very much liked by us all, and wouldn't have harmed any living soul, if he could help it. Yet, for all that, he was the cause of the very devi being played with the hooker. The skipper fell ill witi what they call the yellow fever, if I recollect right, and was obliged to keep close coiled up in his berth; and while he was in the bilboes of the fever, I've seen Elrisa and the mate sit and read, and talk to him for a whole watch at a time. Then he'd make them go upon deck to get a mouthful of fresh air. Some days went on in this way, and the skipper was beginning to get better, when, one evening, the mate and Elrisa went on deck as usual. She was a little merryish or so, owing to the skipper's getting better, and they began to jest a bit, and then act a scene out of some play-book, that the mate was much fonder of reading than the log. I was standing on the forecastle, when, suddenly turning round, who should I see but the skipper himself at the head of the companion. as pale as death, and grinning most horribly. put it into his head to come upon deck, blow me, if I know; but there he was, and there were they with their What had backs turned to him. The mate had hold of her hand, and was laughing away as he spoke, and so was she, and then he kissed her hand. As soon as the skipper saw this, he turned still paler, and bolted down to the cabin like a shot. I ran aft to tell them what I'd seen, thinking there might perhaps be mischief, but the skipper was up again afore me, with a cutlass in his hand; and what did he do, but, before you could say Jack Robinson, he ran it smack through the mate, crying out, “ Take that, villain !" Down dropped he, and down dropped she in a faint; but the skipper hoisted her on his shoulders, and was down the cabin like lightning, leaving the mate lying there, and bleeding like fury. You may be sure I sung out most lustily, and away aft all the men ran. doctor soon came, too, out of the galley, where he had been, and when he see'd him, says he, " I'm afraid 'tis all up with him his mittimus is made out for the next world." However, he wasn't quite right. The mate wasn't dead, but had got a swinging cut right through his breathers, and no one ever thought he'd get over it. Yet, by a marcy, he righted, and came to again; but 'twas a long time first. The You may be sure the skipper wasn't liked a bit the more by any of us. In a day or two, he gave out that Elrisa wasn't well, and couldn't be disturbed, and sent me for'ard among the men, swearing, if ever he caught me aft the mainmast again, he'd give me a good rope's ending. Elrisa got worse, but he wouldn't let the doctor go near her at all; and, blow me, what a kick-up we'd every day upon deck! He wouldn't let the men be idle one moment, what with making all sail on the hooker one minute, and then taking in again. Sometimes he'd have the fire-roll beat in the dead o' the night, and this » was to keep the men in practice, and larn 'em their duty. We didn't so much as get the sleep of a dog-watch out and out. You may be sure there was plenty of grumbling among us all for'ard. The doctor had got the mate in his own cabin, and so was at hand to tend him always, and he was beginning to come round fast. One night, I recollect it well, we were becalmed; there wasn't a breath of wind, and the sea was as smooth as a lady's looking-glass. We'd all our light duck up, and "I've very rag we could hoist, either alow or aloft. But the he came, shivering with fear, and as pale as death. Well, he took her up, and flung her out of the win- Well, the calm still continued, and there we lay like a log on the water. About the third night after this happened, a young fellow, named Brown, had been skylarking up in the maintop, when, all of a sudden, down the voice." Let fall, and be d-d t'ye!" said the skipper.. THE DRAMA, all. and a flew the HAVING now seen Fanny Kemble in all her characters, and having had a whole fortnigh to make up our mind concerning her, we shall state, in very few words, what our matured opinion is. Mi s Kemble is not at this moment a great actress. There is, of course, a vagueness in the term, "great actress," and we can explain it only by referring either to Mrs Siddons and Miss O'Neil, or to that correct conception of what "great acting" ought to be, which exists, or w ay exist, in the mind of every man of cultivated taste, A great actress takes a house by storm,-makes all the passions of their nature leap up within the breasts of her audience, and moves the boards almost lj' ke a thing of awe, calling forth at will the loud involuntary plaudits, and the gushing tears, of an assembled multitude. Miss Kemble cannot do this;she is pleas' .ng, and sometimes affecting, but the impression she produces is not deep, or lasting, or intense. We give her, at the same time, full credit for possessing a more than cơ mmon share of genius; she has done what few young ladies, at her age could have done, and she has all at once, sort of coup de main, achieved a popularity never bee attained by so young a candidate for histrionic hoours, all the brightest ornaments of the profession having previously served a long and tedious apprenticeship. But popularity may soon blow past, and accidental circumstances may have raised Miss Kemble upon stilts, which may, ere long, walk from under her feet. She must either rapidly improve, or she will soon cease to be an object of so much attraction as she is at present. by for D So much for what Miss Kemble is. The next enquiry must be-What is she likely to become? This is a question more easily asked than answered. At the same time, we hesitate not to say, that we have excellent distinction between genius and mere talent, however suc hopes of her. She is a girl of genius, else she could not cessfully cultivated,-between delicate perception and have made the progress she has already made. When she clever performance,—in short, between the genuine elebecomes more like a woman, and when her face and fi-ments of first-rate excellence, and the most finished exegure consequently acquire more power and expression,- cution of second-rate acting. The newspaper press of when she can throw a greater volume of sound into her Edinburgh conveys an impression upon the whole unfavoice, and send forth more passion from her eye,-when vourable to the professional reputation which Miss Kemble she can make her audience feel that she has ceased to be acquired in London; but the objections which have been merely a young lady in her teens, and that, in the full urged do not warrant this arbitrary reversal of the judgpossession of every feminine endowment, her own bosom ment awarded by our southern neighbours. One critic may have been agitated, in the various relations of life, does indeed find out that the lady is too young for many even as is painted in the mimic scene,-we are inclined of her characters--another discovers that she wants dig. to hope that then Miss Kemble will, with propriety and nity of stature-a third quarrels with her face—and a grace, take her station at the very head of her profession. fourth is greatly scandalized with her pronunciation of On one condition alone, however, do we think this like- the vowel o; now, all these criticisms may be perfectly ly that she concentrate all her powers on that depart- just without much affecting the only question in which ment of the art to which the natural bent of her own ge- the public at large is greatly interested, viz. is Miss nius led her originally, and in which she is much more Kemble, as a dramatic character, of first-rate genius, or is calculated to shine than in any other. No great per- she only a very clever actress? former ever rose to equal eminence in both tragedy and The truth is, Miss Kemble is not, properly speaking, comedy. Who talks of Mrs Siddons or Miss O'Neil ex- clever at all. Her style of acting is not, in itself, calcu cept as tragedians? Let Miss Kemble beware of frit-lated to astonish a crowd-she has nothing of the dash, tering down her mind by attempting to represent the mere elegancies and trifling distresses of genteel comedy. She has no turn for it. We have seen her both in Lady Townly and in Portia, the only parts of the kind she has yet played since her first debut, and she is very inferior in both. Her face and figure tell much more against her in comedy than in tragedy; her upper row of teeth, in particular, which are unfortunately a great deal too large and conspicuous, are enough of themselves to ruin any Lady Townly. But in truth, genius and cleverness are too different things, and Miss Kemble, we trust, has too much of the former to make a good depicter of fashion able life. It is to tragedy that she owes her reputation, and let her stick to tragedy, for it is the steed that must bear her on to the mountain's top, if she is ever to reach it. If she gives up tragedy, she takes her seat on an ambling pony, and may canter smoothly enough on in the train of Miss Ellen Tree and Miss Mordaunt; but her ambition should be made "of sterner stuff." Whilst we thus estimate Miss Kemble's present powers, and talk of her future prospects, it is but fair to confess that there are some others, and men of good judgment too, who are disposed to go considerably farther in the praise of this young lady. Their arguments do not alter our opinions, yet it is proper that they should be heard; and as the Literary Journal offers "freedom to him that would write," we have the editor's assurance, that he willingly gives a place to the following communication, which is at once temperately and ably expressed : and less of the rant, which calls down the clamorous applause of the galleries-and her personal appearance is prepossessing only from its simple modesty. To what cause, then, are we to ascribe the crowded houses which she draws, and the unbounded applause with which she has been night after night received? To her genius, unquestionably—to that admirable conception of her part in which she excels every actress we have seen, and to the severity of judgment which makes her anxious to be, rather than ambitious to act, her characters. I have often heard mere declamation better given, but I never have seen a character sustained throughout with more truth and dignity than by Miss Fanny Kemble; and wherever the poet has given occasion, either in situation or sentiment, for nice developement of character or for genuine passion, her action, every tone of her voice, every feature of her countenance, become eloquent, and speak directly to the heart. This is the evidence and the triumph of true genius. Perhaps in none of her characters has she displayed this power more strikingly than in her Isabella. Your own" CERBERUS" has done justice to one noble part of her acting; but the whole character is one of the very finest conception and most felicitous execution; and you will readily acknowledge how much it owes to the genius of the actress, when you remember that the poet is indeed rich in situation, but exceedingly meagre in the filling up of his characters, and that even of his heroine he has merely sketched a happy outline. Miss Kemble is, perhaps, the only actress at present on the stage whose mimic grief fairly cheats us into sympathy. For my own part-and I know my case is far from being singular-I have often bestowed on Mrs H. Siddons and Miss Jarman, my warm and most sincere applause, but Miss Fanny Kemble alone has commanded my tears. this young lady merely a very clever actress she might draw crowds and create a sensation for a season, nay, perhaps she might even obtain the favourable suffrages of the critics, and, after all, sink into that neglect which very clever actresses have sometimes experienced. But this is MR EDITOR,-In my theatrical experience, which I not her character. She has already, by the mere force ef confess to be rather limited, I have observed that the he-high intellectual endowments, attained a more elevated roes of the stage, like those of real life, form two distinct classes, viz. those who have souls, and those who have Among the latter will frequently be found individuals of respectable talents and considerable attainments, who have risen to some eminence by patient industry, by personal attractions, and a happy art of profiting by accidental circumstances, and sometimes by the real merit of their performances, and a distinguished cleverness of execution; but to the former class belong exclusively the higher orders of intellect. In estimating Miss Fanny Kemble's merits as an actress, I think our Edinburgh critics have not sufficiently attended to this MISS FANNY KEMBLE. To the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journal. Puff. O, dear ma'am, you must start a great deal more than that 'Sdeath and fury! Gadslife! sir! madam! if you go out without the parting look, you might as well dance out. Dangle. You will not easily persuade me that there is no credit or importance in being at the head of a band of critics, who take upon them to decide for the whole town. noge. The Critic. Were station than any of her contemporaries; but she has much to learn: she must learn much before she can take her place by the side of the Mrs Siddons, and she will learn it all. Even now, she possesses all the essentials of greatness, but art must yet be called upon to contribute its share; in many minor points, she is still unschooled, but she already betrays the possession of those noble powers which are beyond the reach of art. And, after all, her partial deficiency in these minor and easily-attainable graces seems to be the principal reason for that caution with which our critics have spoken of Miss Kemble. They are, forsooth, afraid of committing themselves by ven turing any decided opinion on the merits of a Bucephalus till they have seen him exhibit his paces at Astley's! Such conduct may be prudent, but it is not magnanimous -it is not just; and even putting Miss Kemble's claims out of the question, it is not honourable to the critic himself, nor fair towards the public. Crowded audiences of the best society in Edinburgh, including some of the most distinguished literary characters in Europe, have, night after night, honoured this wonderful creature with their presence, and still more, by their plaudits and their tears; and yet, were I to hint that these have a right to expect that their sentiments should be echoed aloud by the press, I suppose your critic would complain that I wished to interfere with his independence. Such is not my wish. My quarrel with your contemporaries is not that they think less highly of Miss Fanny Kemble's histrionic powers than I do; I know not exactly whether they do or not-or if they do, they may be right; at all events, it need be no ground of quarrel between us. What I blame in them is, that they do not give us that full, discriminating, and decided opinion of her character which the interest excited, even in our remote provincial towns, with regard to the merits of this young candidate for theatrical honours, seems to call for. If they are honestly of opinion that Miss Kemble does not possess the capacity of a first-rate actress, let them say so at once; if, again, they think that her powers require only to be matured by a little cultivation and experience, let them point out her faults and deficiencies; but, at the same time, let the public have a hint both of her present excellence, and of what we have a right to expect in future from so highlygifted a mind. Ingenious strictures on a questionable emphasis, or petty sin against orthoepy, are somewhat mistimed at present, when the theatrical world is engaged in deciding whether or not this new candidate for fame is entitled to assume at once the very highest place in her profession. Even your own "CERBERUS," and my favourite "ACRIS," have not done their duty in this case. It may, indeed must, be inferred from what they have said, that they consider this young lady as belonging to a much higher order of intellect than the common run of heroines; still this is only to be inferred-they have not fairly spoken out; and I have no doubt that many who, like myself, would be prepared to receive the decided opinion of these critics with respect, shrink with dissatisfaction from the task of analysing, balancing, and guessing at ambiguous expressions. Perhaps Miss Kemble does not come up to some high standard of dramatic excellence which they may have formed in their own mind, and therefore they think themselves bound to qualify their praise; but this, though an intelligible, is a very unfair, canon of criticism. When does human exertion realise ideal excellence? and even when we adopt a more rational standard, and look back upon the triumphs of Siddons and O'Neil, we must remember that they come to us mellowed by distance, and aggravated by the sweet delusion which ever attends the retrospect of pleasures which are lost to us for ever. Let us compare Miss Kemble with her own contemporaries; but here is no room for comparison,-she towers above them all as much in kind as in degree of merit: let us then judge of her by herself by what we hear, and see, and feel, when the distress of Mrs Beverley, the girlish passion of Juliet, or the love-sick grief of Isabella, stands personified before us, is she not a glorious creature-the very child of genius? "Jam nova progenies calo dimittitur alto," worthy of the highly-gifted family of Kemble. She is even now decidedly the ablest actress on the stage. She has already achieved more than ever actress did at her age, and on so short probation; and we are fairly entitled to expect that she will add another living name to the splendid trio, Pritchard, Siddons, and O'Neill. I am, Sir, CTESIPHON. In reference to the allusion which the author of the We above communication makes to us, we hope he will allow that we have to-day spoken out pretty decidedly. were unwilling to do so before, lest it should be premature. In some things "Ctesiphon" and we are at one. We both think that Miss Kemble possesses genius, and has a right to know that the eyes of the country are upon her, in the expectation that she will become a great actress. But we do not think with “ Ctesiphon," that she already "towers above her contemporaries," and is “decidedly the ablest actress on the stage." Mrs Henry Siddons and Miss Jarman are, in many respects, her equals in tragedy; and Mrs Henry Siddons, Miss Jarman, Miss Ellen Tree, and others, are much her superiors in comedy. Old Cerberus. Dost thou kneel down and pray to God for me? Thou lov'st me more than thou dost care to tell, To me there comes an echo of thine own. Within my breast a spirit caught from thee, And at the hour that thy wing'd wishes go Up to the stars, there resteth tranquilly A deep devotion that surpasseth showA light, by thee call'd down from heaven, on me! H. G. B. ROBERT THE BRUCE. By William Wilson. He sat alone on a mossy cairn, And leant on his bloody brand, While his look grew vengeful, dark, and stern, With thoughts of his injured land. Where is the plaided warrior host, He marshall'd at morning tide? On the battle-field, with banner lost, They are slumbering side by side! And he, like a hunted felon, flies To the hills of his native home, In mountain shepherd's lowly guise, Through the wilderness to roam. "Oh, for the sword of the Wallace now, With its lightning flash of doom, As the stern avenger's angry blade "Then rung fair Scotland's rousing hurra, As she waved her bonnet blue, While o'er her warriors' thick array Her proud lion banner flew ; Then rose to heaven young Freedom's hymn, And the broad claymore 'mid victory gleam, "Then from her trance shall Freedom wake, Of your true, though outcast, child, And her bleeding wrongs avenged, Unsheath'd shall remain the Bruce's sword, And his deadly hate unchanged!" STANZAS FOR MUSIC. By James P. Brown. WHEN the voice of the minstrel is mute, And the hand that brought melody forth From the simply-strung lyre, or the lover's soft lute, Lies cold in the bosom of earth Will ye think of the minstrel then? When the songs that he waken'd are sung To the sweetly-sad strains that he loved When his harp, o'er his grave, on a dark cypress hung, By the spirit of music is moved— Will ye think of the minstrel then? When the flowers, in their rich summer bloom, While their odours are cast on the air round his tomb As balm from the islands of Bliss- Will ye think of the minstrel then? Will ye sigh when ye know he is gone- If his songs in your hearts have awaken'd a tone Will ye think of the minstrel then? Aberdeen, May, 1830. A RESOLUTION. I'LL never spin a line again,- Some new and rather striking thought For though I can at times compose The thing may have a sweetish sound, I'm tired of endless mournful songs And "broken hearts," and "early death," I vow 'tis affectation all, The worst that e'er was heard! And only meant to conjure up An interest in the bard. "He writes such very lovely things, I wish his name I knew; And melancholy, too! Oh dear! I wonder if he has 'Tis sweet, no doubt, to Poet's soul, Though Fortune smiles upon his path, "His hopes are crush'd," "his heart is sear'd,”— 'Tis pretty to be sad! I'm wearied, too, of rural strains That tell of" streams and flowers," And little birds that "tune their songs" In "groves" and "garden-bowers;" And lines about the "sunset eve," And "gold clouds in the west," And starry nights, when "not a breath I'm tired of hearing, when they gaze That minstrel bosoms often feel Of childhood's home "across the sea," Or friends" that they have lost," Or "dreams of bliss" that " youth had nurst," As if, forsooth, their hair was grey, And years had made them blind, When all the time they're gay and young, In truth, ye willow-wearing bards, Unless new thoughts should chance to rise, GERTRUDE. LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES. THE Cabinet Album, in a handsome volume, containing pieces selected from the popular fugitive literature of the day, is nearly ready. A work, entitled Norrington, or the Memoirs of a Peer, is in the press. Dr Nares' laborious and useful undertaking, a Life of Lord Burghley, the first volume of which was published in 1828, is now completed. Mr Britton has announced a Dictionary of the Architecture of the Middle Ages, including the words used by old and modern authors, in treating of Architectural and other Antiquities. Among other novelties announced for immediate publication are the following:-1. Southennan, a novel, by John Galt, Esq. the author of "Lawrie Todd, or the Settlers in the Woods," &c.-2. Travels to the Seat of War in the East, through Russia and the Crimea in 1829, with Sketches of the Imperial Fleet and Army, &c. by J. E. Alexander, K. L.S., 16th Lancers, M.R.A.S. &c.-3. The Turf, a Satirical Novel, 2 vols.-1. The Revolt of the Angels, by the author of "Cain the Wanderer," &c.-An octavo edition, considerably improved, with numerous illustrations, of Travels in Sicily, Greece, and Albania, by the Rev. T. S. Hughes, B.D. of Emmanuel College, Cambridge.-And, 6. Clarence, a Tale of our Own Times, 3 vols. NEW MEZZOTINTO STYLE OF DRAWING.-We have examined a number of very beautiful drawings executed by Mr and Mrs Cruikshank, exhibiting the Mezzotinto style which has recently been introduced into this city by these ingenious artists. One characteristic feature of this style of drawing, is its remarkable softness, which, in sea-pieces and landscape designs, has a more pleasing effect than the pencil alone could accomplish. We recommend this accomplishment to the attention of those of our readers who patronise the Fine Arts; and we may add, that we are given to understand it may be learned with great facility. |