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that there was to be a continuation of the work. The round each other, (in them 'ere fiery latitudes they're i present volume is a fulfilment of the promise then made ; over ceremonious,) and he spinning her some yarn, wie i and we are happy to state, that in varied interest and ex- his lips so close, that his breath as he spoke fanned be tensive usefulness, it will not be found inferior to its pre- cheek, and slightly lifted her long and lovely locks, while" decessor. In the departmeut of this work now before us, she with her lips half-parted, and her eyes fixed steada, the author has treated of the natural history of the two and fondly on him, hung upon every word he said, first seasons of the year, spring and summer, in a manner plainly telling us all that her whole life was his, and tha: which will please every one who takes an interest in the in him all her happiness was placed. He usedn't wonderful and beautiful works of creation in earth, air, mind me at all, or the man at the wheel ; but if he caught sea, and sky. A considerable number of engravings il- any of the rest with their eyes turned aft, blow m. lustrate the voluine.

they'd get it!

You must know, that the mate was a very good-look. ing young fellow, and very much liked by us all, and

wouldn't have harmed any living soul, if he could bey MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

it. Yet, for all that, he was the cause of the very desi

being played with the hooker. The skipper fell ill wità A QUEER YARN, BLOW ME!

what they call the yellow fever, if I recollect right, ani

was obliged to keep close coiled up in his berth ; and while, Next morning our captain did come upon deck, And thus to all hands he did gloonily speak;

he was in the bilboes of the fever, I've seen Elrisa ang * I tell ye, my hearties, there's murder been done,

the mate sit and read, and talk to him for a whole watch Our ship is in mourning, she cannot sail on."

Old Ballad.

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, Well, you must know, that about fifty years ago, I

and the skipper was beginning to get better, when, onze was bound 'prentice aboard the Saucy Nan. I was then

evening, the mate and Elrisa went on deck as usual. but a whippersnapper of a little chap, about twelve years

She was a little merryish or so, owing to the skipper's old. 'Twas the first voyage I ever made, and I got

got getting better, and they began to jest a bit, and then act enough of it to make me remember it all the days of my la scene out of some play-book, that the mate was much lite. We were bound to the Spanish main, but first to l fonder of reading than the log. I was standing on the touch at St Domingo, to take in more hands there. We / forecastle, when, suddenly turning round, who should I set sail from the Thames on a Friday, and arrived quite | see but the skipper himself at the head of the companion, safe at St Domingo. But what's begun on a Friday

egun on a Friday as pale as death, and grinning most horribly. What had never turns out well. We carried eighteen guns and a

put it into his head to come upon deck, blow me, if I ! hundred men, and were going to make a cruize on the

know; but there he was, and there were they with their Dons, as I suppose you've all guessed.

backs turned to him. The mate had hold of ber hand, The skipper went ashore at St Domingo, and in a few

and was laughing away as he spoke, and so was she, and days sent off all the hands we were to get. My eyes! then he kissed her har

then he kissed her hand. As soon as the skipper saw they were a queer set,-blacks, whites, copper-colour- this, he turned still paler, and bolted down to the cabin ed, and all sorts! The skipper soon came after them, I like a shot. I ran aft to tell them what I'd seen, thinke bringing such a neat little girl with him as I've never

ing there might perhaps be mischief, but the skipper was seen since. What top-lights she had !and such a foot, up again afore me. with a cutlass in his hand : and what just as if it was cut out on purpose to trip a deck. She adhe

did he do, but, before you could say Jack Robinson, he was as beautiful a little hooker as ever came off Nature's

ran it smack through the mate, crying out, “ Take that, stocks. Every one of her timbers all light, fore and

villain !” Down dropped he, and down dropped she is aft, from stem to starn. Then such rosy lips!-aud when

a faint; but the skipper hoisted her on his shoulders, and she opened them, what a set of ivories she showed! I'm

was down the cabin like lightning, leaving the mate lying blowed if there was a single chap aboard that wouldn't

there, and bleeding like fury. You may be sure I sang have Hung himself right off the maintop into the sea for

out most lustily, and away aft all the men ran. The a kiss of them! I being so young, and a handy little

doctor soon came, too, out of the galley, where he had fellow, the skipper promoted me from cabin-boy, to be

been, and when he see'd him, says he, “ I'm afraid 'tis lady's maid to Miss Elrisa, of which I was prouder than

all up with him : his mittimus is made out for the next if I'd been made a reefer in the service. (What are you

world.” However, he wasn't quite right. The mate laughing at, you ill-mannered land-lubberly swab? Wasn't

wasn't dead, but had got a swinging cut right through I the only young 'un aboard, and think you he'd have

his breathers, and no one ever thought he'd get over it. inade a 'fore-mast man lady's maid ? 'Twould have been

Yet, by a marcy, he righted, and came to again ; but a rum sort of a job, I ay.)

'twas a long time first. The skipper called her his wife, but we all knew bet-! You may be sure the skipper wasn't liked a bit the ter, for we'd eyes, and were pretty pos she hadn't a clar- | more by

more by any of us. In a day or two, he gave out that vyman's commission of matrimony abont her ; for you see, | Elrisa wasn't well, and couldn't be disturbed, and sent I being lady's maid, had to sleep in a small cabin a little

me for’ard among the men, swearing, if ever he caught for'ard of the skipper's, and at times I've heard her

me aft the mainmast again, he'd give me a good rope's crying, and saying to him, “ Oh, if I was only spliced

ending. Elrisa got worse, but he wouldn't let the docto you, Ilarry, I could then be happy !" and I told this

tor go near her at all; and, blow me, what a kick-up for’ard among the men. I gathered, too, that she was some

we'd every day upon deck! Ile wouldn't let the men be planter's daughter, who'd run away, to make a voyage

idle one moment, what with making all sail on the hooker with our skipper. 'Twas nat'ral that she should wish to

one minute, and then taking in again. Sometimes he'd be 'mong Christian whites, instead of a pack of black have the fire-roll beat in the dead o' the pight, and this heathenish rascals that were about her father's

was to keep the men in practice, and larn 'em their duty. Well, as soon as they came aboard, we made all sail,

We didn't so much as get the sleep of a dog-watch out and stood away to the sow-east. All went on well be

and out. You may be sure there was plenty of gramtween the skipper and madam. Who so loving as they?

bling among us all for’ard. The doctor had got the Many a time, in the cool of the evening, just as the sun mate in his own cabin, and so was at hand to tend him was setting, and the sea looking like gold, and the breeze always, and he was begi

always, and he was beginning to come round fast. so delicious, you might have fancied 'twas wafting tbe

One night, I recollect it well, we were becalmed; there scent of a thousand spice-trees on its wings, have we wasn't a breath of wind, and the sea was as smooth as a seen them two sitting just aft the wheel, with their arms lady's looking-glass. We'd all our light duck up, and

every rag we could hoist, either alow or aloft. But the he came, shivering with fear, and as pale as death. “ I've Bibee skipper, seeing 'twas no good, and that she wouldn't move seen it, mateys,” he cried. “Seen what ?" we asked. bor a jot, piped all hands but the watch below. A some-" Why, it. When I was up in the top, presently some

thing, I don't know what it was, came over me, and thing came smack agen my cheek.” (But I forgot to was

almost, without knowing it, I found myself alongside the tell you, that Elrisa had a custom of putting ber hand mizen. All was still. There wasn't a word to be heard on the skipper's mouth whenever he began to swear.) from the cabin. I crept softly down the companion, and“ Well," as Brown said, “smack agen my cheek it came found the door a little ajar. I peeped in, and saw him once more; and so I, thinking 'twas some of you making looking out of the starn windows, and she sitting on one fun of me, cried out, Belay there with your tricks, and of the chairs, sobbing, ready to break her heart; and, be d-d t'ye! Lord, I'd no sooner got the words out blow me, if I could help piping myself when I see'd” it. o' my mouth, than bang 'twas closed with a hand all 'Twas a little duskish, though not so much as to hinder blood, and all cut about the fingers, with never an arm me from seeing pretty well. Says I to myself, “If 'the to it, as if it had been cut off at the wrist. You may be skipper catches me here, I'll get it; and he's pretty sure sure I didn't wait to see any more ; and may I be d d to do so, if I wait till he comes to shut the door.” So if ever I go up that 'ere top again !"_" Oh !” said one of with that I found myself creeping in. Hang me, if I the men, “ Brown's fallen asleep, and dreamed all this, and

hardly knew what I did that night. I was a little fel has awoke by hitting his head 'gainst the mast, and so ime * low then, and could creep or climb like a cat. There believed it all true.” He'd bardly spoke, when a voice

was a sofa to the starboard of the door, under which I from the maintop sung out plain enough, “ On deck, popped myself, and made so little noise, that neither of there !” We were all a little startled at this; but we

them ever heard me. Well, after he'd stood looking out counted, and found all hands on deck except the skipper, De o' the windows for some time, he flung the middle one the doctor, and the mate. “ On deck, there !" sung out the of right open, to let in air as I thought, and then began to voice again; and then there was such a hooting, and yell

walk up and down like mad. Then he seemed to tire of ing, and shrieking, as if Davy and bis crew bad come to 1. that, for he went and locked the cabin door. So, when anchor in our tops. Well, the skipper, hearing the noise, . *he'd done that, he goes up to Elrisa, and takes hold of came upon deck, and then the voice sung out again, “ Ons 4L6 her, and pulled her into the middle of the room, saying, deck, there !"-" Hilloah !” roared the skipper, running 32' “ Thou false wench, what bast thou got to say for your for’ard to the mainmast. “ Stand from under !” roared :

self, that I shouldn't send you to keep company with the the voice. “Let fall, and be d—d t'ye!” said the skipper. . e sharks ?”—“ Oh, Harry," said she, Ainging her snow- Blow me, but it came with a vengeance. Down dropped/ & white arms round his neck, “ I never was false to thee!” | a bloody hand, and directly it touched the deck, it started

-“ You were !” he answered. “ My good cutlass has up, and fixed itself right on the skipper's lips. He done for thy minion the mate, and you shall go seek ran up the rigging like a madman into the top, where another in the deer.”_" Spare me ! spare me! Harry!” | the yelling still kept up; but he wasn't there a porn

-“ Never !" and then he dragged her to the window ; before he gives a jump, and goes right overboard ; sind no * and says I to myself, “ He's agoing to fling her over sooner did he reach the water than all was, silent and a dyp board, and if he finds me here, he'll fling me too.” I was heavy squall arose that moment, and away few the si in a most awful predicament, and kept my very breath hooker like lightning through the waves :: And if that isn't cut in for fear.

what I call a queer yarn, blow me--that's all. Well, he took her up, and flung her out of the winet dow with all his might; but she clung so tight, that he ho was nearly after her, and there she hung by his neck.

THE DRAMA, I saw him take and tear her arms from round his neck en with a madman's fury, and Aing them from him ; but HAVING now seen Fanny Kemble in all her characters, $$ she caught, with her right hand, the window-beam, and and having had a whole fortnigb' to mak

ur mind while clutched it so tight, that he couldn't make her fingers let concerning her, we shall state, in very few words, what het go their hold ; and there she was, looking up so calmly

our matured opinion is. Mi s Kemble is not at this modi and sweetly into his face, as if she was content to take ment a great actress. There is, of co

ment a great actress. There is, of course, a vagueness in pin even death from his hands. Her love was great. When the term, “great actress," an

tress, and we can explain it only by iti he saw he couldn't make her let go, he took up a hatchet, referring either to Mrs iddons and Miss O'Neil. - which was lying by chance on the floor, and with one that correct conception of what « great acting” ought to blow severed her hand from her arm. A heavy fall on be, which exists, or ir a

exists, or ay exist, in the mind of every man the water, a stifled shriek, a gurgle of the closing wave, of cultivated taste. Å great actress takes a house by

said all was over with her. But there he stood, with the storm,-makes all the passions of their nature leap up - hatchet still uplifted, gazing on the hand which was fixed within the prea' ts of her audience.--and moves the there convulsively in the death grasp, and all hell seeined boards almost lj' ken thi

ke a thing of awe, calling forth at will * to be imprinted on his features, so horrible and ghastly the loud invol,

untary plaudits, and the gushing tears, of od was their expression. However, this didn't last long. an assembled

o multitude. Miss Kemble cannot do this ;

m He took and cut away the hand by pieces, for its grasp she is pleasing, and sometimes affecting, but the im was fixed so firm in death, that he couldn't unloose it. sion she produces is not deep, or lasting, or intense. We Ile then flung water over it, to wash out the stains of | give her, at the same time, full credit for possessing a more the blood, and rushed out of the cabin upon deck. Ithan common share of genius; she has done what few young followed him, more dead than alive. “ All hands, ahoy!" ladies , at her age could have done, and she has all at once, be sung out; “man the boat there ; cut away, every mo- | by a sort of coup de main, achieved a popularity never bether's son of ye--- Elrisa’s flung herself overboard !” You for e attained by so young a candidate for histrionic homay well suppose she was never found. He pretended to ours, all the brightest ornaments of the profession habe half mad at her loss ; but he couldn't make the men be- lving previously served a long and tedious apprenticelieve but that he knowed more about her than what he said. I ship. But

at he said. ', ship. But popularity may soon blow past, and accidenI crept away to my hammock, shivering with fear. Not tal circumstances may have raised Miss Kemble upon a wink of sleep did I get that night, and I was too fright-stilts, which may, ere long, walk from under her feet. ened to say any thing about what I'd seen.

She must either rapidly improve, or she will soon cease Well, the calm still continuerl, and there we lay like to be an object of so much attraction as she is at present. . a log on the water. About the third night after this So much for what Miss Kemble is. The next en. happened, a young fellow, named Brown, bad beea sky-quiry must be- What is she likely to become ? This is larking up in the maintop, when, all of a suddep, down question more easily asked than answered. At the



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same time, we hesitate not to say, that we have excellent distinction between genius and mere talent, however suchopes of her. She is a girl of genius, else she could not cessfully cultivated, between delicate perception aud have made the progress she has already made. When she clever performance,-in short, between the genuine ele. becomes more like a woman, and when her face and fi- ments of first-rate excellence, and the most finished eregure 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 fed 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 judg. possession 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 criticisins may be perfectly ly—that she concentrate all her powers on that depart-just without much affecting the only question in wbich 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, calcucept as tragedians ? Let Miss Kemble beware of fritlated to astonish a crowd-she has nothing of the dash, tering down her mind by attempting to represent the and less of the rant, which calls down the clamorous apmere elegancies and trifling distresses of genteel comedy. plause of the galleries—and her personal appearance is She has no turn for it. We have seen her both in Lady prepossessing only from its simple modesty. To what Townly and in Portia, the only parts of the kind she has cause, then, are we to ascribe the crowded houses which yet played since her first debut, and she is very inferior she draws, and the unbounded applause with which she in both. Her face and figure tell much more against has been night after night received ? To her genius, unher in comedy than in tragedy ; her upper row of teeth, questionably—to that admirable conception of her part in in particular, which are unfortunately a great deal too which she excels every actress we have seen, and to the large and conspicuous, are enough of themselves to ruin severity of jndgment which makes her anxious to be, raany Lady Townly. But in truth, genius and cleverness ther than ambitious to act, her cbaracters. I have often are too different things, and Miss Kemble, we trust, bas heard mere declamation better given, but I never have too much of the former to make a good depicter of fashion. seen a character sustained throughout with more truth able life. It is to tragedy that she owes her reputation, and dignity than by Miss Fanny Kemble; and wherever and let her stick to tragedy, for it is the steed that must the poet has given occasion, either in situation or senti. bear her on to the mountain's top, if she is ever to reach ment, for nice developement of character or for genuine it. If she gives up tragedy, she takes her seat on an passion, her action, every tone of her voice, every feature ambling pony, and may canter smoothly enough on in of her countenance, become eloquent, and speak directly the train of Miss Ellen Tree and Miss Mordaunt; but to the heart. This is the evidence and the triumph of her ambition should be made “ of sterner stuff."

true genius. Perhaps in none of her characters has she Whilst we thus estimate Miss Kemble's present powers, displayed this power more strikingly than in her Isabella. and talk of her future prospects, it is but fair to confess Your own“ CERBERUS” has done justice to one noble part that there are some others, and men of good judgment of her acting ; but the whole character is one of the very too, who are disposed to go considerably farther in the finest conception and most felicitous execution; and you praise of this young lady. Their arguments do not alter will readily acknowledge how much it owes to the genius our opinions, yet it is proper that they should be heard ; of the actress, when you remember that the poet is ioand as the Literary Journal offers “ freedom to him that deed rich in situation, but exceedingly meagre in the fill. would write,” we have the editor's assurance, that he ing up of his characters, and that even of his heroine be willingly gives a place to the following communication, has merely sketched a happy outlive. Miss Kemble is, which is at once temperately and ably expressed : perhaps, the only actress at present on the stage whose

mimic grief fairly cheats us into sympathy. For my MISS FANNY KEMBLE.

own part-and I know my case is far from being singeTo the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journul.

lar-I have often bestowed on Mrs H. Siddons and Miss

Jarman, my warm and most sincere applause, but Miss Puff: o, dear ma'am, you must start a great deal inore than that " 'Sdeath and fury! Gadslife! sir! madam ! if you go out

| Fanny Keible alone has commanded my tears. Were without the parting look, you might as well dance out.

this young lady merely a very clever actress she might Dangle. You will not easily persuade me that there is no credit or

draw crowds and create a sensation for a season, nay, importance in being at the head of a band of critics, who take upon perhaps she might even obtain the favourable suffrages of them to decide for the whole town.

The Critic.

the critics, and, after all, sink into that neglect which very

clever actresses have sometimes experienced. But this is Ma Editor,—In my theatrical experience, which I not her character. She has already, by the mere force of 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 station than any of her contemporaries; but she has much classes, viz. those who have souls, and those who have to learn : she must learn inuch before she can take her place no:e. Among the latter will frequently be found india by the side of the Mrs Siddons, and she will learn it all. viduals of respectable talents and considerable attain. Even now, she possesses all the essentials of greatness ments, who have risen to some eminence by patient in- but art must yet be called upon to contribute its share; dustry, by personal attractions, and a happy art of profit in many minor points, she is still unschooled, but she ing by accidental circumstances, and sometimes by the already betrays the possession of those noble powers which real merit of their performances, and a distinguished are beyond the reach of art. And, after all, her partial cleverness of execution ; but to the former class belong | deficiency in these minor and easily-attainable graces exclusively the higher orders of intellect. In estimating seems to be the principal reason for that caution with Miss Fanny Kemble's merits as an actress, I think our which our critics have spoken of Miss Kemble. They Edinburgh critics bave not sufficiently attended to this are, forsooth, afraid of committing themselves by rea

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turing any decided opinion on the merits of a Bucephalus above communication makes to us, we hope he will allow till they have seen him exhibit his paces at Astley's! that we have to-day spoken out pretty decidedly. We Such conduct may be prudent, but it is not magnanimous were unwilling to do so before, lest it should be prema-it is not just; and even putting Miss Kemble's claims ture. In some things “ Ctesiphon " and we are at one. out of the question, it is not honourable to the critic him- | We both think that Miss Kemble possesses genius, and self, nor fair towards the public. Crowded audiences of has a right to know that the eyes of the country are upon the best society in Edinburgh, including some of the most her, in the expectation that she will become a great acdistinguished literary characters in Europe, have, night tress. But we do not think with “ Ctesiphon," that she alafter night, honoured this wonderful creature with their ready “towers above her contemporaries," and is " decipresence, and still more, by their plaudits and their tears; dedly the ablest actress on the stage.” Mrs Henry Sidand yet, were I to hint that these have a right to expect dons and Miss Jarman are, in many respects, her equals that their sentiments should be echoed aloud by the press, in tragedy; and Mrs Henry Siddons, Miss Jarman, Miss I suppose your critic would complain that I wished to Ellen Tree, and others, are much her superiors in cointerfere with his independence. Such is not my wish.

medy. My quarrel with your contemporaries is not that they

Old Cerberus. 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,

ORIGINAL POETRY. it need be no ground of quarrel between us. What I blame in them is, that they do not give us that full, dis. criminating, and decided opinion of her character which

TO JULIANA. the interest excited, even in our remote provincial towns,

For me! with regard to the merits of this young candidate for Dost thou kneel down and pray to God for me? theatrical honours, seems to call for. If they are honestly 0! then thou loy'st me! if thy thoughts do dwell of opinion that Miss Kemble does not possess the capacity | In heaven for one so little worthy thee, of a first-rate actress, let them say so at once ; if, again, Thou lov'st me more than thou dost care to tell, they think that her powers require only to be matured | And I am happier than I hoped to be ! by a little cultivation and experience, let them point out Thrice happy! that each morn and eve there rise her faults and deficiencies; but, at the same time, let the Thy gentle prayers to great Creation's throne; public have a hint both of her present excellence, and of For if to thine no seraph's voice replies, what we have a right to expect in future from so highly- To me there comes an echo of thine own. gifted a mind. Ingenious strictures on a questionable | And in the gold of morn, and when the light emphasis, or petty sin against orthoepy, are somewhat Falls grey and sober o'er the far-spread scene, mistimed at present, when the theatrical world is engaged | I feel within my heart thy spirit's might, in deciding whether or not this new candidate for fame

And half become what I have never been; is entitled to assume at once the very highest place in her | More full of high resolves, and firmer faith, profession. Even your own “ CERBERUS," and my fa- And deeper trust in the eternal law vourite “ Acris," have not done their duty in this case. That leads to life through the dark gates of death, It may, indeed must, be inferred from what they have Where dwell the sights which holiest prophets saw. said, that they consider this young lady as belonging to And this it is to love-that there doth glow a much higher order of intellect than the common run of Within my breast a spirit caught from thee, . heroines ; still this is only to be inferred-they have not | And at the hour that thy wing'd wishes go fairly spoken out; and I have no doubt that many who, / Up to the stars, there resteth tranquilly like myself, would be prepared to receive the decided A deep devotion that surpasseth showopinion of these critics with respect, shrink with dissatis

A light, by thee call'd down from heaven, on me! faction from the task of analysing, balancing, and guess

H. G. B. ing at ambiguvus expressions. Perhaps Miss Kemble does not come up to some high standard of dramatic excellence which they may have formed in their own mind,

ROBERT THE BRUCE. and therefore they think themselves bound to qualify their

By William Wilson. praise ; but this, though an intelligible, is a very unfair, He sat alone on a mossy cairn, canon of criticism. When does human exertion realise

And leant on his bloody brand, ideal excellence? and even when we adopt a more ra While his look grew vengeful, dark, and stern, tional standard, and look back upon the triumphs of Sid

With thoughts of his injured land. dons and O'Neil, we must remember that they come to Where is the plaided warrior host, us mellowed by distance, and aggravated by the sweet He marshallid at morning tide? delusion which ever attends the retrospect of pleasures On the battle-field, with bauner lost, which are lost to us for ever. Let us compare Miss

They are slumbering side by side! Kemble with her own contemporaries; but here is no And he, like a hunted felon, flies room for comparison, she towers above them all as

To the hills of his native home, much in kind as in degree of merit: let us then judge In mountain shepherd's lowly guise, of her by herself-_by what we hear, and see, and feel,

Through the wilderness to roam. when the distress of Mrs Beverley, the girlish passion of Juliet, or the love-siek grief of Isabella, stands personi « Oh, for the sword of the Wallace now, fied before us,-is she not a glorious creature the very

With its lightning flash of doom, child of genius? “ Jam nova progenies calo dimittitur When the battle flush was on his brow, alto,” worthy of the highly-gifted family of Kemble. She

And victory on his plume ! is even now decidedly the ablest actress on the stage. When, like the tornado's wrathful sweep, She has already achieved more than ever actress did at her

He rush'd to the deadly fray, age, and on so short probation; and we are fairly entitled While the foe fell round himn, leap on heap, to expect that she will add another living name to the

As the mower swathes the hay ; splendid trio, Pritchard, Siddons, and O'Neill. I am, And back, like frighten'd deer, they tled, Sir,


Each hwrying rank on rank,

As the stern avenger's angry blade In reference to the allusion which the author of the Gleam'd red on rear and Hauk!

“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,

Like the voice of a thousand waves, And echo caught the strain sublime,

And replied from all her caves. And the lion banner yet shall stream,

Uncheck'd from strand to strand, And the broad claymore 'mid victory gleam,

In each plaided hero's hand !

“ Then from her trance shall Freedom wake,

And her trumpet call be blown, Till haughty English Edward quake

On his lofty tyrant throne. Shades of my fathers ! hear the vow

of your true, though outcast, child, As a vanquish'd, homeless, exile now,

He wanders the trackless wild; Till his land to freedom be restored,

And her bleeding wrongs avenged, Unsheath'd shall remain the Bruce's sword,

And his deadly hate unchanged !"

“ He writes such very lovely things,

I wish his name I knew;
He's young, they say, and very pale,

And melancholy, too!
Oh dear! I wonder if he has

A father and a mother,
Perhaps his early love is dead,

Or married to another !"
"Tis sweet, no doubt, to Poet's soul,

In tender hearts to raise
Desire to know why grief has cast

Its shadow o'er his lays;
Though Fortune smiles upon his path,

And earth and skies are glad, “ 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

Is rippling ocean's breast.”
I'm tired of hearing, when they gaze

Upon the moon and skies,
That minstrel bosoms often feel

Some tender thoughts arise-
Of childhood's home “ across the sea,"

Or friends “ that they have lost,"
Or “dreams of bliss" that “ youth had nurst,"

But age has “rudely cross’d."
As if, forsooth, their hair was grey,

And years had made them blind,
When all the time they're gay and young,

With hearts like summer wind :-
In truth, ye willow-wearing bards,

Your band I will not join;
Unless new thoughts should chance to rise,
I'll never write a line !



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,

Woo the gladsome sunbeams for a kiss, 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

Will ye give to his memory a tear ? If his songs in your hearts have awaken'd a tone Which love and remembrance hold dear

Will ye think of the minstrel then ? Aberdeen, May, 1830.

A RESOLUTION. I'll never spin a line again,

Unless I chance to find
Some new and rather striking thought

Arise within my mind;
For though I can at times compose

A stanza in a minute,
The thing may have a sweetish sound,

But then there's nothing in it!

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,

I'm tired of endless mournful songs

About the “ ills of life,” And “ broken hearts,” and “early death,"

And " this world's gloom and strife ;" I vow 'tis affectation all,

The worst that e'er was heard ! And only meant to conjure up

An interest in the bard.

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