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the suffering and distress recorded,—and him. But before the marriage, Agatha's there is an abundant supply of it,-arises attachment is discovered; M'lon's love from an unnecessary and therefore foolish returns in full force, and Cherry gives endeavour to repress and conceal an early him up to her cousin, whom he marries attachment. The Heroine, or rather Hero- straightway; and not long after, Cherry, ine No. 1, (for there is another) falls in who is throughout a most interesting though love, and determines to conquer her pas- perfectly impossible character, dies in a sion if she can, and at all events to keep it rapid decline. M'Ion alone knows and to herself; out of this determination comes understands her illness, and foresees her utter wretchedness to all concerned, par- death, which the following extract de ticularly to Heroine No. 2, who indulges scribes. and confesses her affection without reserve, and would have been made thereby very happy but for the wayward conduct of her cousin, No. 1. Of course, if a young lady could learn any thing from this tale, it would be to avoid all manner of resistance and disguise, when love befalls her, which is just what Mr Hogg did not mean to teach, and just what (according to the prevalent notions of the world) few ladies have occasion to learn.

The second tale is intended as a warning against "Leasing" (which is Scotch, for lying, in a small way) and "Jealousy;" two faults, says the author, to which the fairer part of creation is exceedingly prone. But in this tale, which is yet more a tale of misery than the first, all the "leasing" of the prima donna only gives her a husband of a rank far above her own, and of a character much better than she deserved; and as to her jealousy, unfortunate and unfounded in fact as it was, if she had not a right to be jealous, no circumstances can give such a right. We suppose the truth to be, that the stories were intended to be, as they are, interesting and amusing tales, and the thought of calling them moral tales, came afterwards.

Mr Hogg asserts distinctly, that both of his stories are not only founded on fact, but vary very little from the actual truth; the incidents being exactly related, and many of the names retained. We should almost be sorry to believe this, for more intense or more extraordinary suffering than that which all the principal characters are made to endure, can hardly be imagined. With all the pathos of such stories, Mr Hogg has contrived to mingle a great deal of humour. There is more laughter-stirring fun in them, especially in the latter, than in any other of his works; sometimes his jokes are rather vulgar, and generally they incline towards coarseness, but they are always natural and hearty.

We will give our readers one extract from the first tale; and to make it intelligible, must first tell a little of the story. Agatha Bell, the daughter of a wealthy farmer on the borders, falls in love with M'Ion, a young Highland nobleman; but not being so certain as she wishes to be of a return to her affection, entirely conceals it. M'Ion, who loves her passionately, thinks, from her conduct, that she has an aversion to him, and endeavours to conquer his attachment. After a while he determines to marry Cherubina, the cousin of Agatha and almost a child; chiefly out of gratitude for the devoted love and unreserved confidence she manifests towards

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that M'Ion entered. He had been ruminating in 'It was during this period of calm relaxation the garden, when the servant came hastily and delivered his mother's message; and knowing that she was in attendance in Cherry's room, he went straight thither. The alarm that he testified on viewing the condition of the sweet slumberer, appeared to them both matter of surprise. To his lady, in particular, it seemed unaccountably mistimed; and she could not help smiling at his perturbation. He held a downy feather to her lipsher breath moved its fibres, but could not heave it

keeping a steadfast eye on her face, and ever and from its place. He felt her pulse long and gentle, anon his heart throbbed as it would have mounted from its place.

'What do you mean, Diarmid?' whispered Gatty, in some alarm; It is nothing but a sleep, and as peaceful a one as I ever beheld.'

Yes, my love, I know it is a sleep; but I pray pends upon her awakening out of such a sleep, you retire, and do it softly, for there is more dethan you are aware of.'

If there is any danger whatever, I will wait with my cousin and you. Why should I leave

her?'

caution, desiring her to go with all expedition, and "He then took his mother's place with great compound some cordial that he named; he also motioned to Gatty to go with her, but she lingered beside him, curious to see the issue of that slumhad his left arm under the pale slumberer's head, ber that so much discomposed her husband. He ently counting, with the utmost anxiety, every and with his right hand he held her arm, apparmovement of her pulse, and having his eye still fixed on her mild, relaxed features. Gatty sat down at a distance, folded her arms, and watched in silence. Mrs Johnson came into the room on tiptoe with the cordial; but M'Ion saw neither; his eager eyes were fixed on one object alone. While in that interesting attitude, one of those which a painter would choose, Cherry at once opened her serene blue eyes, and fixed them with a steady but hesitating gaze on the face of him she were, mechanically, without so much as a sigh, in She awaked, as it the same way that a flame or spark, which seems quite extinct, will all at once glimmer up with a radiance so bright, as to astonish the beholders. His face was all sadness and despair, but hers already?' said she. instantly beamed with a smile of joy, Am I here 'What a blessed and happy state this is, and how easily I have attained it!"

loved above all the world.

46

exclaimed he; and taking her on his bosom, he impressed a long and burning kiss on her lips, as they coloured with a momentary hue of the beryl, in the soul's last embrace with the heart. 'Now, with that kind kiss, have you loosed my bond with mortality-Do you love me still?'

The Almighty knows how I love you, dear, dear, and dying sufferer!' cried he, through an agony of sobs and tears.

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est,' said she; and laying her head on his bosom, Then my last feeling of mortal life is the sweetshe breathed a few low, inarticulate sounds as of prayer,and again sunk asleep to awaken no more.

What does all this mean?' cried Gatty, startment. 'Diarmid! Husband! I say, tell me the ing to her feet, and holding up her hands in amazemeaning of this.'

'Be composed, my love! Be composed! The meaning is but too obvious. There fled the sweetest soul that ever held intercourse with humanity."

A Gazetteer of the State of New Hampshire,

by John Farmer and Jacob B. Moore. Concord, 1823. pp. 276.

had produced one of the best maps that IT was to be expected, that a state which was ever published, would not long leave it unaccompanied with a Gazetteer. We have not had leisure to examine very particularly whether the work before us is entitled to rank with Carrigain's map; but The assistance of several professional genit certainly possesses uncommon merit. tlemen has rendered the work sufficiently scientific, and it contains a few engravings well executed, and a map, exhibiting all form. The typography is good, and the the townships in the state in their proper volume is cheap at the price marked, $1,25. In the descriptions of the several only what they are at present, but every towns and villages, the reader will find not them, and frequently an interesting notice important historical fact connected with of the most distinguished persons, who have In this manner a great deal resided there. of important information is given, and this arrangement will be peculiarly gratifying to those, whom the work most concerns.

;

The sublime and picturesque scenery which abounds in many parts of New Hampshire, has lately attracted much attention White Mountains will probably become as and, at no distant period, a journey to the fashionable as it must ever be gratifying to all who love to look upon hills, and vales, and forests, and waters, clothed with beauty. No one will think of journeying that way in future without this Gazetteer. We are With that she started-looked at her clothes surprised that the author omitted a descripat his-at all their faces with a hasty glance, and tion of one of the most interesting views, then added, Already! No, I should have said, which the state affords. We refer to the how fortunate it is, for if I had gone away without Baker's pond, in Orford, on the road from am I here yet? It is well, though-it is well. Ah! scenery about a pond, called, as we believe, this interview, I should have been compelled to Plymouth through Wentworth and Orford return.' Then stretching out her hand, on one of the fingers of which there was a ruby ring, that he to Hanover. If it now remains as we saw had put on that day he pledged her his troth-sheit in 1821, there are few spots more roHe could not answer her, for his bosom was burstpointed to it, and said, See, do you know this?' mantic and beautiful. ing with anguish. And these simple robes-do you know these?-Why, you cannot answer me; but I know you do. Now, do you remember that on that day I returned you your faith and troth, that I said, I should never ask another kiss of you and released you from your rash pledge of honour, but one? I crave it now.'

'This is more than human heart can support,'

Belzoni in Egypt; Fruits of Enterprise exemplified in the Travels of Belzoni in • Egypt and Nubia. 18mo. Boston, 1824, THIS is one of the most interesting works, pp. 248. which has been presented to our children;

and the information which it contains, is given in a manner calculated to produce a good moral effect. A dialogue between a mother and her children, gives an account of Belzoni's labors and conquests, a description of the countries which he traversed, the discoveries which he made, the character and customs of the inhabitants, with such historical and other facts, as illustrate the several subjects. Through the whole work the motto-" Labor omnia vincit"-is kept in view, and the power of industry is very happily illustrated and enforced. Those who may purchase this book for their children, will not only gratify them, and give them a kind of knowledge which is not otherwise easily obtained, but furnish them with strong incitements to industry and perseverance. The terms made use of in the various descriptions are so well explained, that children who can read easily, must be old enough to understand them; and there are few persons of any age, to whom it would not be instructive. The engravings are well ex

ecuted and add much to its value.

Although we have made these liberal concessions with regard to the moral character of the work, it must not pass unnoticed that the morality which characterizes it, is not altogether that which should be taught in a book intended for instruction. It does not sufficiently recognise religion as the essential principle. We know not what a christian can have to do with morals separate from religion, and if a book directly inculcates the one, it should also inculcate the other. Do we derive our motives for a moral life, from the world, or from heaven? If from heaven, why not acknowledge it, and teach our children to derive theirs continually from the same source? It is hardly sufficient to show them that industry and discretion will secure the good things of this life, and perform wonders, and earn a recompense and honour which will make the heart glad. All this may be exceedingly good, but it also may be infidel rant, unless every action is estimated and judged by a reference to religious truth. We might extend these remarks to a great proportion of the moral works designed for young persons; and parents who are disposed to give their children principles of action, that will bear every test to which the exigencies and various relations of life expose them, will hardly wish them to make any effort or sacrifice, solely from such motives as are presented in these works.

Instinct Displayed in a Collection of well authenticated Facts, exemplifying the extraordinary Sagacity of various Species of the Animal Creation. By Priscilla Wake field. Boston, 1816. 12mo. pp. 335. THERE are few species of narrative, which are more pleasing to a great part of mankind, than the relation of extraordinary facts concerning animals. Who will not listen to any story of the sagacity of a dog or a horse? Nor is this interest limited to

The

domestic animals. The man who heard Letters to a Child on the subject of Mari-
another say that he had seen two bears time Discovery. By Emily Taylor. New
fighting in the woods, and asked which of York, 1821. 12mo. pp. 322.
them beat, expressed only an ordinary de- WHEN children have acquired a good
gree of curiosity. If we well understood knowledge of the elements of geography, it
why these anecdotes are so pleasing to us, is an interesting and profitable exercise to
we might be able to make them subservient learn something of the history of geogra-
to some very important purpose; and even phy; and this is necessarily connected with
without such metaphysical knowledge, they the history of navigation. The most im-
need not serve as a mere matter of amuse- portant facts relating to these subjects
ment.
Mrs Wakefield seems to have been well perspicuous and pleasing style; and they
are given in the work before us in a very
aware of this fact, and has contrived very are accompanied with biographical remarks
skilfully to promote several moral purposes respecting the principal discoveries and
by connecting them with this subject. The those most concerned with them.
most natural of these is humanity to ani-writer thus expresses, in her preface, the
mals; and perhaps no more effectual method design of the work:
could be devised. Another general prin-
ciple, which she contrives to inculcate in
connexion with her anecdotes, is the iden-
tity of happiness with usefulness. This is
done with much ingenuity, and yet great
simplicity. The whole work consists of a
correspondence between two young ladies.
Caroline was, by misfortune, reduced to the
necessity of retiring from London to an ob-
scure town in Wales. Here she found a
home in a most worthy family; but every
thing presented a painful contrast to her
former mode of life. She was not long de-
prived of her amusements, without looking
about for something to do; and her aunt
supplied her with such work, as she could
be readily taught to perform. She gradu-
ally became interested in the useful avoca-
tions of the family, and learned, like her
associates to seek for happiness in doing
good.

Her attention was naturally excited by the modes of life and the usefulness of domestic animals. This was all new; and, like the rest of mankind, she soon learned to desire a knowledge of every remarkable fact concerning them. Much pains was taken to gratify this curiosity; and these anecdotes became a principal topic in her letters to Emily, her former associate. She also keeps in view her progress in a useful life; and the two subjects are so combined, that they mutually add to the interest of her letters. Emily in return makes the most of the subject; and contrives to supply her share of well authenticated anecdotes.

From this sketch of the plan of this little work, every reader must be prepared to approve it. Its whole moral character.is very amiable and judicious Indeed, we can scarcely place our children in better company than Mrs Wakefield. We do not much relish her fondness for comparing instinct with reason, and leaving the reader to infer that men are but a more sagacious sort of brutes. But she finds what are thought very high authorities for this, and we must leave her and them to correct their error, when an improved state of the human character shall render it more manifest. It is remarkable that this book is not more frequently found in the hands of children. There are few equally interesting or more pure in their moral character; and it contains a great variety of facts important in Natural History.

"It was chiefly my wish to call the attention of a child to the steps by which our knowledge of geography has been attained. This opens a source of practical instruction, as well as of interest; and, in the hands of a wise and judicious instructer, I cannot help hoping that my little volume may be made the first step to a course of much more valuour lot at a time when a great and general interable reading. Since it has pleased Heaven to fix course between brethren of all parts of the earth is carrying on, it is surely right, early to incite in a child's mind a feeling of interest and fellowship in the concerns of that large community into which it is born; and is not this of at least as much importance as the attempt to carry its thoughts back to the darkness of past ages, and to interest it in the lives and actions of the boasted heroes of antiquity? In tracing the progress of geography, we really perceive that we are travelling in a road of doms of the earth, the more our desires for the improvement. The more we know of the kingreal good of our fellow-creatures expand, and the more we feel that it was the intention of Divine Providence that they should thus be enlarged."

It is sufficient praise to say that the author has presented these truly amiable and religious views through the work. The fame of the great personages, whose actions she describes, did not prevent her carefully distinguishing their vices from their virtues; and if a child is disposed to traverse the globe, and learn such facts as are here recorded; a safer pilot or a more pleasant and judicious companion cannot be chosen.

Tancred, or the rightful Heir of Rochdale
Castle. A Drama, in three acts, &c. By
Gardner R. Lillibridge. Providence,
1824. 18mo. pp. 68.

THE word Drama, is thus defined by Mr
Walker: "a poem accommodated to ac-
tion; a poem in which the action is not
related but represented; a play ; a comedy;
a tragedy." Now it is clear, that Mr
Walker was entirely ignorant of the true
meaning of the word, or that Mr Gardner
R. Lillibridge has grossly erred in denomi-
nating his maiden production. Far be it from
us to impute so heinous a charge to this
dramatic gentleman; on the contrary, we
must let the Orthoëpist "bear the brunt of
this offence;" though at the same time we
will render him the justice to say, that not
he alone, but all the lexicographers of the
English language might in vain have puz-
zled their brains to invent a suitable gen-
eric title for this "singularly wild and orig-
inal" absurdity.

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skirts of the Rochdale Forest. I had left off the

duct. He led me into the thickest of Rochdale

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Since none will speak, hear me! Mercy I expect not, for it seems a stranger to this proud castle. That man, [pointing to Lawrence, that blood-thirsty man, who seems so anxious for my life; nay, frown not, mighty sir-your frowns and threats I hold in the same contempt I do yourself!

no; for those brave followers who made thee

Who would have thought he possessed such a pugnacious spirit,-though he does tell us, to "North Britain I expect I owe my birth." Mrs Marguritta, however, could not away with it, and immediately issues the following commands.

It has been our peculiar good fortune all I've a tale to tell which will make thy to peruse most of the specimens of dra- young blood run chill through their veins." matic genius, which have issued from the But as we despair of telling this tale half American press, from the "Capture of as well as Mr Adams, and trust that our Burgoyne," down to the "Hero of Chip-readers have already taken an intense pewa ;" and we think we may fearlessly interest in it, we transcribe it. Thy rancorous persecution now forces me to speak, assert that not one of them can in any de- “You must know, that about four years before make me blush to say,-for well thou knowest it, what honor and what manhood would otherwise gree compare with "Tancred, or the Right- you made your appearance on this busy stage of 'twas 1, the sacrifice that saved thy life, which else ful Heir to Rochdale Castle." We sin- action, my mind led me to take a stroll on the would have fallen beneath an arm as high o'er thee cerely congratulate Mr Lillibridge upon work of the day at an earlier period than usual. *** as the great canopy of heaven is o'er the judgment having produced so efficient an answer to By giving my silver call a blow, old Ponto, rugged wilt take that life which unhappily was the saviour seat. Then frown and threaten not; but if thou the sneers of the Edinburgh, and the asper- with age, left his kennel and ran on before me, of thine own, mark me, be not so unguarded as to sions of the Quarterly Reviews. The wagging his tail, for I never went abroad without question will no longer be asked, "Who his company.***The long, dismal, rumbling roar of suppose it shall be taken with impunity; by heaven, reads an American tragedy?" but rather, the falls between the Terrible and Bloody Peaks, flinch at every look, shall revenge my fall, though "Who has not read Tancred, a drama?" burst upon my listening ear.***Still onward we at the certain fate of meeting with their own. Yes, went, until the intermingled yells of some unknown thou implement of cruel treachery, thou violator of It were invidious, perhaps, to compare, Mr animals set on end every hair in my head. I stop-innocent hospitality, there's some prophetic power Lillibridge with any of our puny American ped. I imagined that to proceed would be enter- informs my soul, ere long, this proud castle shall be authors, for he may boldly challenge com- ing upon the brink of death. It was impossible to thy body's monument, and thy departing spirit, in petition with the master spirits of the Eng-returrets, the dog a casted on this mysteriolved, at descending to the flames below, shall, with its unlish drama. Like Byron, disregarding the all events, to find the cause of this mysterious con- natural howlings, scare the ill-omen'd bird of stale and hackneyed use of mere flesh and Forest.-All was darkness.-My dog appeared to night."blood dramatis personæ, he daringly enters stop.-The groan of an infant caught my ear. the world of spirits and shows himself hand I found it! alas, with but little life remaining, With but one stroke of my and glove with ghosts and ghostesses of the bound fast to a tree. most extraordinary character. It is not sword I liberated the helpless little victim. "Rachel. [Screams.] Oh, Heavens!-You kill'd often in these degenerate days, that we are the child, how couldfavoured with such good substantial apparitions; and they are not only numerous, but assorted with great regard to effect, insomuch that their absence would be a serious loss to this highly fanciful and imaginative production. In imitation of the tragedies of Maturin (we trust that Mr Lillibridge will not mistake this for the "merest insin- us." uation of the charge of plagiarism,' -we This child is saved by Fitz Adams in have "no such stuff in our thoughts"), his drama is rife with barons, baronesses, and banditti, so disposed and grouped together as to produce a result rarely equalled and never surpassed. Like Shiel-but it is not by comparison that we expect to convey any adequate idea of the all unutterable merits of this incomparable drama, and therefore without farther preface will introduce it to our readers, by endeavouring to give a faint sketch of its story, &c.; but at the same time, we wish it to be clearly understood that we do not vouch for the correctness of the detail; not feeling exactly certain of having succeeded in our attempt to unravel the complicated mysteries of its plot.

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Fitz Adams. No, no, I cut every particle of chord and rope in twain. Kill the child, indeed! Where can you borrow such base imaginations from. But to proceed-I again sought the foothurried onward, when again the horrid yell of path with the child in my arms. Having found it, wild animals rung in my ears. I drew my sword, by which time two monstrous wolves rushed upon

spite of the two wolves, but at the expense
of the dog Ponto, and of a good part of the
calf of Fitz Adam's left leg. He proves to
be Tancred, who is at once a lover, an heir,
a moss trooper, and first captain of banditti;
while following this latter vocation he falls
in with and robs one Baron Murcia and his
"comical, cowardly, and honest fellow" of
a squire Stephen (we are not favoured with
his patronymic), and this circumstance is in
some way or other, we don't exactly un-
derstand how, the cause of the Baron's
receiving an invitation to sup with one
Marguritta, a most bloodthirsty virago and
withal "the famous Baroness of the North,"
who thus acquaints us with her own char-
acter.

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Mr Lillibridge plunges into the middle But recollect, my faithful friend, that our of things at once, but relates what has gone hands have already been imbrued in the blood of before by means of one Fitz Adams (we Rochdale and Rothsay. The first, I confess most hope the Dramatist did not mean to in-frankly, was the effect of youthful fire and discreet fluence the Presidential election) in anlove. Forced on me by the commands of a determined parent. the Baron Rochdale was at first swer to a question from his daughter, Miss but an object of my indifference; an object which Rachel Adams, who comes on the stage the presence of the Baron Rothsay soon converted weeping, and with her "heart bleeding for into a bitter hatred; though not the fountain head the safety of her dear Tancred;" this gentle- of homicide, still we acted as the leading springs." man proves to be her "lovyer true," the After supper, by way of dessert, Tancred Hero of the Drama, and moreover, the son of is brought in to receive his deserts, and to the late Baron Rochdale, who is one of the answer to the charge of having committed principal characters. The father of Miss an assault upon the person of Baron MurRachel says to her, with regard to the sub-cia, with intent to rob; and one Lawrence ject of a letter received that day by mail from Tancred, that fear of disturbing the tender feelings of Mrs Adams has kept him silent upon this subject, "but if it be your wish," [addressing Miss Rachel] "I may venture to touch upon it; but first of

"Silence, slave! by Heaven, the audacious villain dares to level his rebellious answers at our sacred persons.-I'll hear no more! Send him to highest tree, that it may dangle conspicuous to the instant execution! Hang up his carcase on the passing carrion."

We foresee much controversy between future commentators, touching these last words. If we may confess it without shame, they a little puzzle us. Probably Mr G. R. Lillibridge has some authority for supposing that in that far north country of which Mrs Marguritta is the famous baroness, carrion is so obliging as to walk about in search of a crow or buzzard hungry enough to eat it. Her foul intents towards our hero are most happily delayed by the appearance of a new character, i. e. the principal ghost, alias "the late Baron Rochdale," who, in a speech to Tancred quite convincing, declares that he, the ghost, feels firmly convinced in spite of a very strong family likeness between him, the said Tancred and the deponent, that the said Tancred is none other than the son of him the said Ghost of the late baron of Rochdale, and therefore that he the said Tancred is the RIGHTFUL HEIR OF ROCHDALE CASTLE; and he thus makes this interesting discovery. "Act III. Scene IV. He" [Tancred]

"kneels before the altar.

Soft

musick, together with invisible female voices," [it would have heightened the solemnity of the scene to have given us a sight of these voices, the more especially as they prove to be in fact ghostesses of voices.] The Ghost of the late Baron Rochdale rises and bows thrice before Tancred"-but Tancred is such a brute that he does not return it; after a short enacts the part of justice, and having ar- speech from Tancred, his Ghostship thus raigned the criminal, expatiates pretty addresses his undutiful son who had calllargely upon the crime of highway rob-ed him "a frightful spectre," to which, bery; to which our hero, who pleads his own however, the Baron properly retorts by case, answers in a most pithy and pertinent twitting him with the family likeness we speech. spoke of Ghost, loquitur.

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ent, need not make you doubt the truth of this.

est to the subject of Greece, whether an-
cient or modern; and a book bearing the
above title commends itself to our notice,
though the production of an unknown au-

Tancred, my son. [Tancred starts.] Fear stored to something of its ancient freedom, not. I was thy father! In me behold the poor even though the splendors of its arts and remains of Baron Rochdale! thou art my son. arms should remain only in their imperishThy great resemblance to me, thy hapless parable records, we turn with renewed interThou art the only heir to all my great estates and all this lordly Castle, for Oh! my son! thy mother was the cruel murderer of thy sire! the death of me and of the Baron Rothsay! she would e'en have been the death of thee, but for the benign interposition of that Almighty Providence to whom nothing can or ever is impossible. But spare thy mother, Tancred, and let thy vengeance fall alone on him, the damned spurrer of all her cruel deeds-On Lawrence.- -Ay! you may well start with horror, for had you not thus effected your escape, you ne'er had seen to-morrow's dawn. He would have murdered thee, my son, as he before did murder thy poor father, &c. &c.

Hide your diminished heads, ye Hamlets, and Banquos, and various other Castle Spectres, for never did ghost so harrow up We the soul as this of the late Baron. know not nor envy him, who could listen to this thrilling tale unmoved. We did suppose that sepulchre

no

could

thor.

seat of the Muses. Yet how do our frivolous Athe

trance of the Acropolis, to be built; in transforming the Piraeus, which was before crowded with ships of war, into a depot for the merchandise of the Greeks, and in raising Athens to be the favourite nians reward these services? With ingratitude and scorn. Wh all neighbouring states admire him, calling his work-for such is our Athens-the jewel of Greece, and cannot express their astonishment that this city,- -so limited in its extent, and built on In this instance, our interest has been into the shade;-here, in all our public places, our a meagre and stony soil,-should throw monarchies sustained through two small volumes, writ-shops and streets, he is calumniated; and all ears ten with a good deal of taste and discrim- are open to the senseless babble of those who are ination, although there is no display of ex- envious of him; and who by their calumnies, by traordinary genius. The author seems to their deceitful tattle, and by a hundred other dehave a truly Grecian spirit; and, what is grading arts, practised only by demagogues, are creeping into favour with the people. better, that fine moral taste, which, where it is truly possessed, will always be perceived; whatever may be the subject of discussion, and whether truth or fiction employ the pen.

This little work is in the form of dialogues; in which subjects are discussed which we might suppose would occupy and

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Yesterday the contemptible fools had the boldness to think of accusing him openly of tyranny, and of proposing that he should be condemned to be banished from the city."

The third dialogue is between Pericles, Aspasia, and Alcibiades. It begins thus:

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render up a more appalling spectre than interest the Athenians in their best days. Thus closes the earthly career of the wise. Thus

They are designed to give us a lively the imagination of Shakspeare, &c. had already summoned; we did hope that picture of the times and render us, as it were, present with Pericles and Socrates spirits had done their worst, and could no and Alcibiades. "How could I hope," more alarm the peacefulness of our solitary hours or disturb the "few rebellious" "par- says the author in his preface, "to render ticular hairs," which adorn our head; but scenes from a remote antiquity at once to a transcendent genius like Mr G. R. pleasing and instructive to my contempoLillibridge, nothing-to use his own lan-raries, had I not sought to invoke the living spirit of that time and that people, to move guage" can or ever is impossible."

Aspasia. See with what serene glory the evening sun is sinking into the transparent wave! did Anaxagoras pass away. wast present.

Thou, Alcibiades, "Alcibiades. Never shall it be forgotten! He was sitting in this pillared hall; the moon shone upon his silver hair; he gazed serenely on the starry heavens; then he spoke, with reverence and awe, of the Creating Spirit who directs the course of countless worlds in the regions of immeasurable space. While he was speaking, I saw him fall gently asleep-alas! never again to awake.

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Pericles. His death was beautiful as his life.

After this terrific ghost has departed, the before them distinctly, holding up, as it Behold there his marble statue, wrought by the invisible voices, or four female spectres" were, a mirror to each spectator; thus en-hand of Phidias. Thus intellectual, noble, and abling him to judge for himself?" The sub- benevolent were his features; thus did they remain, make their appearance, but having left "The dema- unchanged, even when the genius of death had their voices behind them, they only point jects of these dialogues are: at a door; it takes four to make Tancred gogues; ostracism; the character of Per- already guided his better soul to Elysium. Often, a ruler; the when I regard the statue in the light of the starry perfectly sensible which door he was to icles, and his wisdom as go out at, he was so much astounded by manner in which affairs of state were view-heavens, it seems to me as if it were alive; the lips appear to open; and, to my fancy, the words the late Baron. We have room but for one ed by the common people; on the wise of imperishable wisdom flow from them. guidance of the people; Aristophanes' more quotation, and that shall be Tancred's satire of the Sophists; the influence of the determination as touching the ghost; but we trust we have said and shown enough to fine arts; the Grecian tragedy in its influence on the character of the nation; the induce our readers to delight themselves difference between the wisdom of Socrates with the perusal of this interesting drama.

"The mention of Lawrence's treachery, but above all the discovery of the Cavern, which is a secret to every human being but ourselves. It was my father's spirit that I have seen; am resolved at all events to follow the admonitions of my murdered sire, and others that have privilege here.I will once more return to the castle."

and that of the Sophists; the funeral celebration of the Athenians fallen in battle; the love of the marvellous among the Athenians; the death of Pericles; the habits of the females; the credulity of an Athenian mechanic; the policy of Cleon, the demagogue; the reverence paid to the gods; and the condemnation of Socrates." These are well chosen subjects, it will be Das Volksleben zu Athen, im Zeitalter des acknowledged; and we think they are, in Perikles, nach Griechischen Schriften.-general, well treated. Manners of the Athenians, drawn from Grecian works. By J. H. von Wessenburg. Part 1st, Zurich, 1821. Part 2d, 1823. 12mo. pp. 132.

We hope this work will be translated and republished here; it would be not only useful to those who are studying the history and institutions of ancient Greece, but interesting to those who are acquainted with them. There is another reason why we should give our readers a somewhat minute analysis of its contents. At the present moment, when the Greeks seem to be rousing themselves from their long slumber, and other nations are looking at their fine country with the hope that it may be re

Pericles is the author's hero, of course, and he places his dignity and moral worth in the strongest contrast with the sophistry, artifice, and flattery of the demagogues, who were deceiving the people for their own aggrandizement. In the second dialogue-on the Ostracism-between Socrates and Crito, the following passage occurs:

"Crito. You are not ignorant, Socrates, with what triumphant splendour Pericles has terminated the war; how wisely he has freed Athens of vast numbers of dangerous idlers by the foundation of the booty taken from the enemy, by converting it colonies. What a beautiful use has he made of into splendid temples in honour of the gods; in causing the Odeum and Propylæum, at the en

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Alcibiades. How sacred is this statue in my eyes. Once, O Pericles, didst thou lead me to it, when I was trembling on the borders of a frightful precipice; when an unholy ambition would have drawn me into its whirling vortex. Here did I faithful to the instructions of Anaxagoras, I would swear to Pallas, the goddess of the Athenians, that, subdue my ambition, whenever its indulgence would interfere with the welfare of my country.

"Pericles. And hitherto, my dear son, thou hast kept thy oath, as a noble Athenian should do. "Alcibiades. If I have done so, if I now love my country more than fame, to whom do I owe it, but to thee, Pericles, to thee, Aspasia, and to our Socrates? I earnestly strive to attain thine excellence. O Pericles; but there is one of thy virtues, in view of which I must ever despair.

"Aspasia. And which is that?

"Alcibiades. The unshaken coolness of his deportment in the tumult of popular commotion; this compels my admiration, but is beyond my imita

tion.

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which they have done nothing themselves; then | my whole soul is kindled within me; my eyes flash fire, and I am irresistibly impelled to scourge the impostors; but one glance at thee slackens the strained cord of my bow. What serenity, what coolness, what indifference! Ah! exceeds my conception.

"Pericles. You seem to forget that I am a disciple of Anaxagoras. From my earliest youth I was destined to hold public offices. Anaxagoras knew this, and often pointed out to me the image of the most perfect government in the wonderful processes of nature and the harmonious course of the stars. Observe how various, how unlike, are the powers of nature; they encounter each other, at times, peacefully; at other times, as enemies; the one restrains or encourages the other; at times a violent struggle takes place between them; but this always results in peace and tranquillity, in more luxuriant growth, in more abundant fertility. The mysterious first cause, which gave the direction to each separate power, still works in secret, unseen and unheard.'

The discourse ends with the remark of Aspasia, that "Pericles is governed by the wish to raise Athens to the rank of the first city in Greece; this has brought all his thoughts and feelings into harmony; it gives him a steady purpose and persevering courage; it has kept his soul so free from covetousness or corruption, that he has not increased, by a single drachma, his paternal estate. Oh that it might become the ruling passion of all Athenians!"

This is followed by an amusing dialogue between Socrates and his shoemaker, in which the latter complains of the increased price of leather, the impositions of the tanners and the heavier amount of taxes; all which evils he ascribes to Pericles, "who," he says, "wants to make himself king." Socrates, however, makes him acknowledge that he lives as well as ever; that he makes the purchasers of his shoes pay his taxes as well as the additional cost of his leather; that he can prove nothing against Pericles, having taken his opinion from common report; and that, as it regards his personal observation of him, he has nothing to object to, but the ugliness of his half-boots; upon which Socrates relates the following anecdote : "Zeuxis had just finished a splendid picture. Among the persons who came to see it was a shoemaker who found fault with the shoes of the principal figure, which was a king. The painter took the shoemaker's remark in good part, thanked him for it, and improved the shoes. A few days after, the shoemaker came again, and, vain at the success of his critique, began to find fault with the arms and the head of the hero of the piece. These criticisms Zeuxis rejected with a smile, saying-I advise thee, my friend, to confine thyself in future to thy last." One of the most amusing dialogues, illustrative of the credulity of the Athenians and their love of the marvellous, reminds an American of feelings and practices nearer home, although there is fortunately a practical good sense among us, which, without preventing the circulation of ill founded reports for all purposes of amusement, and sometimes not of the most innocent kind, yet almost always interferes to prevent the belief of them being in any degree injurious to one's self. The inter

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Damocles. To-day is not yesterday, my dear sir, and there are seven days in the week. Great news has just arrived from Persia, and we tailors are going to meet and hold a consultation on the subject.

"Philistus. News from Persia? Artaxerxes is dead, I suppose; and the Persian court has sent you orders for mourning dresses.

"Damocles. Dead in good truth; dead as a rat. But this is the least of the news. A great revolution has broken out. The monarchy is overthrown; and the haughty Persians are going to submit themselves, as good republicans, to the protecting government of the Athenians. By Hercules, it is the wisest thing they could do!

From

"Philistus. But you jest, Damocles. what witch or sorceress did you receive such aston

ishing tidings?

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Damocles. From neither witch nor sorceress. Our Master of the Guild, Storax, gave me the account just as he had it from his grocer, Melas, who was told so by his barber, who had it from the steward of Eucrates, the Archon.

"Philistus. In truth, most authentic vouchers! But from whom, I pray, did the steward of Eucrates receive the intelligence?

"Damocles. That, surely, needs no explanation. From whom should he but his master?

Philistus. See, there comes Zeusippus, a trader with Persia in rich goods. He will give us, perhaps, some more direct account. Good even ing, Zeusippus! Any thing new from Ecbatana? Zeusippus. It is but half an hour since I arrived from thence. I made the journey with great speed, for I was in haste.

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Zeusippus.] Doubtless as the messenger of mighty Damocles. [Aside.] No doubt of that! [To tidings?

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Zeusippus. I bring no other, than that the great king, out of special regard to the Athenians. has taken off the duty on oil and honey imported

from Attica.

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a burying-place.

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Damocles. [Aside to Philistus.] He deceives, or is himself deceived. I dare say the troops have rebelled, and murdered Artaxerxes, and the people have made it appear to be only a review of troops. like a burying-place. No doubt many thousands in [To Zeusippus.] Yes, I dare say, Persia appears this revolution have bitten the dust, and many more are almost dead with terror.

"Zeusippus. You are mad! I tell you again, as certainly as Zeusippus stands before you, nothing bloody has happened in Persia, except it be a wolf

or tiger hunt, in which the nobles engage almost daily.

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Damocles. [Aside to Philistus.] With what a brazen face does he play the ignoramus !—or is still nobles in Persia? We have received certain he a Persian spy? [To Zeusippus.] So there are advices that equality among all ranks was decreed there.

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Zeusippus. Worse and worse! Have you been drinking at this time of day? or are you bantering me? Good day. [Retires quickly.]

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Philistus. Now, Damocles, how stands your

news?

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Lisiman. The bargain is not yet concluded. Would that Alcibiades were in Athens! He would not hesitate at the highest price. But if you incline to purchase the charger, I shall be moderate, very moderate.

"Philistus. I don't doubt it. In a few weeks,what do I say?-in a few days more probably, the finest Persian steeds will be sold for a song in our market.

"Lisiman. [Much surprised.] How so? These horses never were in so great demand as at this

moment.

"Philistus. Were; but there's an end of all that. Have not you heard the last news?

"Damocles. [Rapidly.] Artaxerxes is murdered, his throne overturned; Persia acknowledges the sway of Athens. Messengers from Persia are expected every moment.

"Lisiman. By Jupiter! I have not heard a syllable of all this. But you only mean to perplex me? "Philistus. Not in the least. Damocles knows how authentic the reports are. They come from undoubted authority; from the house of an Archon, the rich Eucrates. You know, perhaps, this man has great dealings with Persia. What do I see? You turn pale, Lisiman! Don't be cast down! There is, indeed, no time to lose. I advise you to sell your Persian horse as soon as possible, even for less than half the market price.

"Lisiman. Oh, miserable, ruined man that I am! My stables are full of these animals. What can be done with them?

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Philistus. Do you hesitate? You must sell them, to be sure; and quickly too. Will you wait till the Persians themselves are here, and the market overstocked? Get down at once from your steed, and let me mount him. I am in haste. There are five hundred drachms for you; take them at once. Tomorrow you would hardly obtain half as much.

"Lisiman. By the infernal deities! but this is hard. The horse is worth at least three thousand. But there's no use in fretting. Not to lose every thing, I must lower my price, and hasten to find purchasers for the rest.'

The crafty advocate makes another bargain, equally advantageous to himself, with the credulous Damocles, in a purchase of Persian shawls; and, as Damocles is retiring, exclaims:

"But see, there comes Eucrates.

Now my

elegant charger, show off your finest evolutions

before the Archon!

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Eucrates. Thrice fortunate advocate!

Archon never meets with such good luck.

"Philistus. He is indeed a fine creature, is not he? His like is not to be found in all Athens. You must know, besides, that he is of the same breed with those of the Persian king's body guard.

purchaser should offer? "Eucrates. How much should you ask, if a

"Philistus. I did not mean to sell the horse.

But out of respect to you, my gracious patron, I would part with him for the trifling sum of four thousand drachms.

"Eucrates. [Writes with a pencil on a small tablet.] Here is an order on my banker, Teresias; and now the Persian is mine. [Philistus takes the

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