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course as an antidote for the dullness of a long evening. This blessing indeed, which is by no means the least society can boast of, and is a peculiar characteristic of this country, is accessible to every class of society, the poor enjoy it with the rich; nor is the labour of the day a little alleviated by the recollection that the evening brings with it its repose, when the humble labourer, surrounded by his family, can crowd round the blazing hearth, and in their temporary seclusion from the world forget its troubles and banish its cares.

As the winter had already set in when I arrived at London, we regularly after dinner formed a circle round the fire. My aunt was usually seated in a venerable arm-chair, which had for years been in the possession of the Pliant family, and was looked upon with no small degree of respect, as it served to testify the ancient honours of her ancestors, and had the arms of the family engraven on the back. I occupied the opposite corner, and my two cousins sat in the middle. The conversation would sometimes turn on the memory of my father, on which we dwelt with unfeigned pleasure, as his natural goodness of heart had left behind him too many mementos of his worth to suffer it to be passed over in silence. At other times we would indulge in the general topics of the day, and talk of the fates of kingdoms and princes with as much sang froid as if they were actually at our own disposal, though the latter was very rarely the case, unless Mr. Plausible was present, who was as fond of political or any other argument, it was the same with him, as his life.

But the evening rarely passed over without some instruction being blended with our amusement.-It was a maxim of my father's, "That even all our recreations should be regulated so as not to cause us to blush for them in our most serious moments:" and this remark was not lost upon my aunt, who was a perfect enemy to idleness, and never encouraged it in her actions. As soon, therefore, as the day disappeared, the evening brought with it its accustomed occupations. My aunt generally amused herself with her needle, while Louisa gratified us with some harmonious straiu upon the harp, on which instrument she particularly excelled. Maria employed herself, when she was not engaged at the needle with

her mother, in drawing; and I, a silent spectator of the whole, surveyed the scene of industry, and longed to become a busy actor in it. An employment was, however, soon found for me; and though I could neither use a needle, handle a brush, or produce sweet sounds, contrived to render myself of some importance in the domestic arrangements; in short, I was deputed to be orator-general; and when the harp was silent, or, what was of more consequence, the ladies' tongues, ransacked the library to produce some entertaining work to be read aloud. In this manner we spent our evenings, which were always harmless; and if we could not affirm that our exertions had been productive of any material good to society, we could, at least, say, that our conversation was always free from scandal, and that the arguments carried on in the chimney-corner were never mingled with illiberal reflections or ill, natured sarcasms.

We were seated in our usual manner one evening, and I had taken down the adventures of Don Quixote for perusal, when a note from Mr. Plausible signified bis intention of calling on us in the course of an hour, to accompany us to the theatre, as he had procured a box for the evening. This proposal was highly relished, and the ladies prepared themselves accordingly; but as some time was still remaining on our hands, I continued the adventures of the eccentric knight, and had brought him back to his mansion in the deplorable situation which his first adventure reduced him to, and had already proceeded to his library in company with the curate, the barber, and the housekeeper, when our disposal of the books was rather disconcerted by the arrival of Mr. Plausible, who was greeted on his entrance by the exclamation of the housekeeper to the licentiate; viz. "There, Mrs. Housekeeper, throw him first into the fire, and let him serve as a foundation for the bonfire we intend to make."-"Very much obliged to you, Sir," said he, taking these words humorously to himself," but I had much rather remain where I am-especially as I am not accustomed to such warm receptions-but come,” said he, "joking aside, we have no time to lose"-So swallowing a hasty dish of tea, we ordered a coach, and drove to the theatre.

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since I last visited one, I anticipated a great deal of amusement. and entered the house with a full determination of being pleased. When we were seated in our places, I cast a survey over the "tout ensemble," and was at a loss how to express my admiration. display of fashion and beauty which the boxes exhibited was rather a novel sight to me, and I whispered to Mr. Plausible, who sat behind me, my suspicions that many came not only to see but to be seen. He confirmed my opinion, and afforded me much pleasure by his description of several of the audience, whose faces and characters he knew by frequently meeting with them. You see that stern personage," said he, pointing to a gentleman in the pit, leaning his head upon his hand, "he is now in deep thought, and preparing the criticism which by to-morrow's dawn is to hurl destruction on the unassuming production which is this evening to be represented. He lives by the exercise of his pen, which he employs in wantonly sporting with the feelings of those who are so much his superiors, and by debasing the office of a critic with mingling the rancour of private prejudice in the sentence he passes on the merits of a work he has not talent enough to execute himself. A little beyond him you may discover one who contributes no less to the same purpose, but by different means; and regardless of the consequences his conduct entails upon those to whom his vengeance is directed, comes, perhaps, determined to damn the efforts of a man whose sole support is derived from his endeavours to amuse the public-But let us pass over them in contempt, and leave them to enjoy the reward of their unmanly conduct, which, if they have any feeling at all, must sometimes cause sensations of an unpleasant nature.

He now directed my attention to a young man, dressed in the height of fashion, who was rendering himself conspicuous in the front of the boxes, by his attention to some ladies of bigh life. —“ There,” said he, "you perceive at Once an epitome of folly and generosity. His name is Sir Edward Courtly, of a good family and considerable property, but which is falling fast before an accumulation of extravagant sallies, which daily tend to undermine it. I became acquainted with him from having some law-business to transact, which I ma

naged so much to his advantage, that I secured him a considerable sum of money, which he would probably have lost but for my timely precautions. He was proceeding in his description; but Sir Edward having disengaged himself from the ladies, and recognizing Mr. Plausible, came towards our box; and as we had room enough for him, he joined our party.

The general tenor of his conversation soon convinced me that Mr. Plausible was right, for I found it replete with those unmeaning expressions and peculiar phrases which are thrown into fashionable conversation by way of ornament, but which only clog it and destroy its beauties. However, I heard but little at first, as the rising of the curtain secured the general attention, and exempted me for a time from lis tening to it. The entertainment proceeded, and gave me considerabie satisfaction; but Sir Edward's manœuvres so often disconcerted me, that I was unable to pay the attention I wished. His glass was continually at his eye, and exploring every female face that presented itself; and more than once, in the most interesting part of the piece, he distracted my attention, by suddenly declaiming on the beauty or dress of some of his fashionable acquaintances: in short, I was at a loss to tell whe-, ther he paid most attention to the company before the curtain or the company behind. The conclusion of the entertainment, however, rid me of his affectation, and I sat quietly the remainder of the evening, till my aunt and cousins began to think of retiring home.. We were met on the stairs, Ifowever, by the young Baronet, who insisted on our using his carriage for returning; and as he was urgent in his demand, we stepped into it, and arrived home in a few minutes, highly gratified with the entertainments we had witnessed.

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second term is equal to the sum of its three lineal dimensions; the coefficient of the third term equal to half the sum of its six surfaces; and the last term equal to its solid content. -Therefore it is plain, that the three roots of the equation, x3-3x2+160x 3360), will be the three lineal dimensions of the solid in the question. -Now, as the roots must all be real and even positive quantities, there is "evidently no necessity to apply the com'plex rule of Cardan; therefore, by Sir Isaac Newton's method of divisors, the roots are found to be 12, 7, and 4; consequently, 12, 7, and 4 feet the length, breadth, and thickness, of the solid. W. W. R.

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AD Johnson written nothing more H than the Lives of the English Poets, that work alone would have transmitted his name to the latest posterity, containing, as it does, a copious store of critical acumen, sound judg ment, and classical diction. Yet, like every human performance, that work is not equally admirable or perfect in all its parts. If the rays of Johnson's light-diffusing intellect beam upon us with unrivalled brilliancy in some places, they shine with a faint and diminished lustre in others. It could not but be so with an author who engaged in a work of such magnitude and variety, when he was almost seventy years old, and was constantly harassed with bodily disease. of compulsion, and was frequently im Besides, he wrote under some degree portuned to proceed in the undertaking, when he felt himself tired, and averse to exertion. To this circumstance is, doubtless, to be imputed the contemptuous and ill-humoured

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cerning some of our poets.

"The

Dyer is one of these. In a wearied and fretful moment he condemns" The Fleece," because, in his opinion, the subject itself is unpoetical. woolcomber and the poet," he says, "are such discordant natures, that an attempt to bring them together is to couple the serpent with the fowl.”— Again :-"the meanness naturally adhering, and the irreverence habitually annexed to trade and manufactures, sink the poet under insuperable oppres

sion."

But is there not more of prejudice than of good sense-more of sarcasm than of just criticism, in these remarks?

Crowded her streets-ah! then the hand
While th' admiring world
of Pride

Sow'd imperceptible his poisonous weed,
Which crept destructive up her lofty
domes,

If agriculture be a fit subject for poetry, subject of Tyre, at the end of the 2nd why not manufactures also? Who ever book! objected to the Georgics of Virgil, because he chose to introduce into the first book a description of the implements used in farming? As little reason is there for holding "The Fleece in contempt, because it contains a description of the loom and of the machinery used in the woollen-manufactories, which description, after all, constitutes but a small part of the poem. Agriculture, it may be granted, is a better subject; but it does not therefore follow, that trade and commerce may not be embellished by poetry.

That which is a primary source of wealth and power to a great nation, cannot, when viewed by unprejudiced eyes, appear to be mean; and it is quite erroneous to state, that Dyer laboured under insuperable oppression, seeing that he has displayed, in "The Fleece," the best talents for description, and is distinguished throughout for animated and truly poetical diction. In corroboration of these remarks, we would refer to the description of sheep-shearing and its accompanying festivities in the 1st book; to the description of the argonautic expedition in the 2nd book; to the description of the journey from Petersburg to Pekin; and of Anson's stormy voyage round Cape Horn, in the 4th book:

Perils and conflicts inexpressible
Anson, with steady undespairing breast
Endur'd, when o'er the various globe he

chas'd

rous'd

His country's foes. Fast gathering tempests
Huge Ocean and involved him all around

Whirlwind and snow and hail and horror:

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Asivy creeps around the graceful trunk
Of some tall oak. Her lofty domes no
more,

Not e'en the dust they sunk in; by the
Not e'en the ruins of her pomp, remain ;

breath

Of the Omnipotent, offended, hurl'd
Down to the bottom of the stormy deep:
Only the solitory rock remains,
Her ancient site; a monument to those,
Who toil and wealth exchange for sloth and
pride.

On the whole it may be asserted, in opposition to the coryphæus of English critics, that "The Fleece" is a performance which possesses much originality in regard to plan, and many beauties in regard to composition; and that, supported by these recommendations, it will, unto distinct ages, secure to its author a respectable rank among our native poets.

LOR

THE WANDERER.
Chapter IV.

ORD TREVAYNE was a states. Iman, filling a high situation in the government of the Country, every feeling of his mind was devoted to politics, and he had suffered this propensity to attain so great an influence over him, vial, he would plot, and counterplot, as that in every transaction however trithough the welfare of the nation depended on it with him every thing was reduced to a system, and from continually guarding against fancied impositions, he was frequently duped by those means which his caution had furnished.

With naturally a large share of haughtiness, this disposition had increased his pride and hardened his heart, and I believe, the protection he held out to me, was rather a sacrifice to his pride, than an impulse of natural affection. However, I was hardly of an age to make nice distinctions, and certainly not in a situation to do so.

I had been treated with so much tenderness by my late grandfather, that I felt for him all the affection and veneration which it was possible for my soul to conceive, and I knew so little of mankind as not to have anticipated that any difference could exist in my new oneIL E

4

and I had prepared myself to transfer all that affection to him. But, the first interview I had with Lord Trevayne dispelled all these emotions, and, perhaps, happily for me, for it it spared me the mortification which in after life I bit, terly experienced, of having placed my affections where I had cause to repent of it.

Upon arriving at his lordship's house, 1 was with some formality ushered into his presence, and was running up to him with the embrace which was usual with me, but was stopped by his lordship's bolding out his hand and coolly shaking mine; this effectually checked the ardour with which I was prepared to meet him. After some common-place consolations on my grandfather's death, be condescended to inquire as to how my time had been passed, and the progress I had made in my education, with which he seemed satisfied. He told me that he bad arranged for my going to a public school, in order to continue the course of my studies, and after staying with his lordship some short time further, he asked me if I was fatigued with my journey, and would wish to go to bed I very gladly answered in the affirmative, and retired to rest to dream over the disappointment I had met with in my new grandfather..

In consequence of the recommendation of my grandfather, Lord Trevayne had determined to retain our servant, Andrew, who now attended me to my room, where we compared notes as to the difference of our present and our late situations-Andrew asked me how I liked his lordship? I said I knew he was so grand that I was afraid to like him a great deal-and that I could not like him so well as my grandfather"No," said Andrew, as he left me for the night, "I fear you will find few people left whom you can love so well as my old master."

During the few days which I staid at Lord Trevayne's, previous to my going to school, I was introduced to some of my honourable cousins, the children of the elder branches of Lord Trevayne's family, which was very numerous-they all looked on me as an interloper, and their manners being of the higher order, they amused themselves greatly with my ustic appearance, and, shocking ignorance, as they chose to call it. This sort of treatment did not make me very unhappy, for I was not then acquainted with the contempt in which poor relations are generally held, and as, perhaps, my vanity led ine to think, that there

was not so great a superiority on their side, and finding that in Greek and Latin, I was more than a match for those of my own age, I kept up my conse quence and my spirits tolerably well. I was, however, soon released from this by proceeding to the school which had heen destined for me; here I was ac companied by the honourable Mr. Bur ton, a son of one of Lord Trevayne's daughters, and about my own age; be had taken my part in all the little engagements I had had with my cousins, and instructed me in some of the fashionable niceties of behaviour of which I was before totally ignorant,of course I was much attached to him, and on our arrival at school, where he had been before, he introduced me to his friends, and acquainted me with several particulars which were necessary for my comfort, and my progress in my

studies.

Burton, though of the same age, was much less than myself, and being of a delicate constitution, although from his amiable manners he was generally beloved throughout the school, was sometimes oppressed by the bigger boys; this, I observed very soon after my arrival, and as I had burned for an opportunity of returning the obligations I lay under to him, on the first which presented, I took his quarrel on myself

a battle was the consequence, in which I acquitted myself to the satisfaction of the beholders. This, my first essay in pugilism stamped my fame, and I passed the rest of my time at school without seeing my friend annoyed by the impositions of his superiors in strength, and enjoying a moderate share of peace myself.

My time passed at school pleasantly enough: it is true. I was very little troubled with visits or attentions of any sort from Lord Trevayne, whom I never saw but at the school vacations, when he was so much enveloped in business, that I enjoyed very little of his company, and my taste was so bad, that I esteemed myself rather fortunate in this respect than otherwise. I had just completed my eighteenth year when I was summoned from school, and he proposed to me to fix on a profession, and added, with something as much like kindness as was possible with him, that he would not by any means wish to influence me, but that it should be left to my free choice. I replied without hesitation, for I had seriously dehberated on the subject, that I should choose the law; with this he seemed

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