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Literary and Scientific Mirror.


mllar Miscellany, from which all religious and political matters are excluded, contains a variety of original and selected Articles; comprehending LITERATURE, CRITICISM, MEN and ERS, AMUSEMENT, elegant EXTRACTS, POETRY, Anecdotes, Biography, Metrorology, the Drama, Arts and Sciences, WIT and SATIRE, FASHIONS, Natural History, &c. forming some ANNUAL VOLUME, with an INDEX and TITLE-PAGE. Persons in any part of the Kingdom may obtain this IVork from London through their respective Booksellers. N-Sherwood and Bolton-J. Kell:

sellers; E. Marl-Wackburn-T. Rogerson; ch, Ave-Maria-lane; Bradford-J. Stanfield; nith, 36, St. James-Burnley-T. Sutcliffe; Burslem-S. Brougham; R. Timmis : Bury-J. Kay: , Derb.-W. Hoon; Carlisle-H K. Snowden; T.Cunningham; Chester-R. Taylor;

S. Bassford;

Chorley-C. Robinson;

2ham-R. Wrightson; Clithero-H. Whalley;

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The Bouquet.

Colne-H. Earnshaw;
Congleton-S. Yates;
Denbigh-M. Jones;
Doncaster-C. & J.White;
Dublin-Harvey and Har
rison; and, through
them, all the booksel
lers in Ireland.
Dumfries-J Anderson;
Durham-Geo. Andrews;
Glasgow-Robertson & Co.

here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have nothing of my own but the thread that ties them." ITARY WALKS THROUGH MANY LANDS.

interesting work, in two volumes, under e, has just been published by Mr. Derwent the author of Tales of Ardennes, &c. We rtially perused it with much pleasure, and jose to enrich our columns with some of the tes which abound in this pleasing volume. angements this week only leave us room for brief specimen; but we have in reserve, from e source, a highly-wrought moral tale, entihe unhappy Pair, and the conscience-stricken which shall probably appear in the next cope. The following extract may serve as a of the philosophical and moralizing spirit ervades the works of Mr. Conway.


XII. and Frederickshall.—A Digression upon
Military Glory.

calm evening, in the latter end of September,
skirted the narrow sea-creek that runs up to
shall. On one side of the road, precipitous cliffs
red with wood, gilded by the declining sun; on
side, the little bay slept, quiet as the rocks that
it. Some fishing boats leaned motionless upon
til bosom,—so tranquil, that the transient circle
y the light dip of the sea-fowl's wing, was seen
Before me, rose the impregnable rock
of Frederickshall; as I advanced onwards, the
Is were gradually left in shade, until, at last, the
attlements only reflected the sun-beams.
ickshall possesses no other attraction than that


derived from him

left a name at which the world grew pale, point a moral, or adorn a tale.

us to depart next morning, I found little difficulty ling upon the sentinel (although contrary to the actice) to admit me that evening to the castle, to cath-place of Charles XII. An obelisk has been ay the direction of Bernadotte, upon the identical e he fell. It is surrounded by a double row of wees, and an avenue, bordered by the same funeb, leads from the obelisk to the battery, from

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instances, in an inverse ratio to them. Few will be inclined
to rank among the benefactors of mankind, Alexander,
Cæsar, Charles of Sweden, or Napoleon,—and yet these
names are as legibly written in the rolls of fame as the
names of others, whose warlike achievements have enlarged
the empire of freedom, or confirmed the reign of true reli-
gion. Nor does the fame of the warrior depend, in any
great degree, upon his success. The philosopher who has
spent a lifetime in laborious, but fruitless inquiry, does
not enjoy the same reputation as he who, with less labour,
and, possibly, less talent, has added something to the cata-
logue of discovery; but in war, the vanquished has often
as high a reputation as the vanquisher, and the disastrous

Prescot-A. Ducker;
Preston I. Wilcockson;
I. Walker;
Rochdale-J. Hartley;
Sheffield-T. Orton;
Shrewsbury-C. Hulbert;
Southport W. Garside;
Stoke-R.C. Tomkinson;
Stockport-T. Ciaye;
Ulverston-Soulby & Co.;]

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Wakefield-Mrs. Hurst;
J. and J. Haddock;
Welckpool-R. Owen;
Wigan-Mrs. Critchley;
J. Brown;
Wolverhampton-T. Simp
son, Bookseller;
Wrexham-J. Painter;


are shed for the loved, the lost, the distant, and the dead," we are inclined almost to execrate the names we have been accustomed to venerate. But in the character of Charles of Sweden there is something so romantic, that we are more apt to regard him as a hero of romance than as a bloody warrior: and when I stood within the shade of the cypress trees that wave over the simple record of his fall, I could not help catching a portion of that enthusiasm that once so kindled within him, and which is irresistibly awakened upon the spot where it was quenched for ever.

Here fell th' enthusiast, "the Swede!"

The spot, these cypress trees surround;
And though mine be no warrior's creed,
I feel I tread no common ground.
That little pillar bears no name,

It needeth none where he did fall;
It only marks the spot where fame
Linked with his memory, Frederickshall!
His name! oh, it is written there
Eternal on that rocky wall;

No more this obelisk need bear,
Than "In the fight of Frederickshall!"


pearance of Constable's Miscellany, of which it forms a part.

termination of a campaign detracts nothing from the fame
of the general who has fought it well. Hannibal enjoys
the reputation of having been one of the greatest captains of
antiquity, though he was, eventually, driven out of Italy,
the defeat of Pharsalia did not lessen the renown of
Pompey, nor the battle of Pultowa that of Charles of
Sweden. There is, still, another curious fact respecting
military fame; it has no existing record ;—the sculptor
has his marble,-the painter his canvas,-the poet his
multiplied volume; but if we ask for the monuments of
Cæsar's, or Napoleon's military prowess, they are nowhere
to be found. Victory upon victory extended the bounda-As published in the London Weekly Review, previously to the ap-
ries of their respective empires; but, in a little while, other
warriors established a new reputation on the ruins of their
conquests, and the fruits of the many years upon which James V. and his wife, Mary of Guise. That lady had
"Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, was the third child of
their military renown had been built, fell before the events borne him, previously, two sons, both of whom died in in-
of a single day. Contemplate, too, the easy price at which fancy. Mary came into the world on the 7th of December,
the warrior obtains his honours. A year, a month,-1542, in the Palace of Linlithgow. She was only seven
sometimes even a single day,—
‚—secures a reputation that
the lapse of a thousand years will hardly efface. Contrast
this with the long labours of a Milton, or the unwearied
researches of a Newton. Consider, moreover, that the
reward of the warrior is immediate, and his fame uncon-
fined by place. The philosopher makes his discovery, but
it has yet to be promulgated and accepted; he has to con-
tend with prejudice and jealousies, and his immortality,
perhaps, does not begin until he ceases to be mortal. The
poet lays down his pen, he has accomplished his work,
but fame is not the immediate consequence: he, again, is
more than commonly favoured, if a gleam of posthumous
fame cheer him on his death-bed. Far otherwise is it with
the warrior. From the moment of victory he dates the
commencement of his fame. At the very instant, when
he says within himself, "I have done my task," trum-
pets, and drums, and cannon, and a thousand voices, are
the triumphant witnesses of his glory, and attest aloud the
truth of his internal conviction.

the cannon-ball that terminated his career is sup- It is surely an ill-placed devotion that is rendered to the
have come. Upon the pillar itself there is in-memory of the warrior; for, although in what the world
no name,—only these words, " In the fight against

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days old when she lost her father, who at the time of her he had lived, with a kingly and gallant spirit. In the birth lay sick in the Palace of Falkland. James died, as language of Pitscottie, he turned him upon his back, and looked and beheld all his nobles and lords about him, and, giving a little smile of laughter, kissed his hand, and offered it to them. When they had pressed it to their lips for the last time, he tossed up his arms, and yielded his spirit to God. James was considered one of the most handsome men of his day. He was above the middle stature; his hair flowed luxuriantly over his shoulders in natural ringlets, and was of a dark yellow or auburn colour; his eyes were gray, and very penetrating; his voice was sweet toned; and the general expression of his counte nance uncommonly prepossessing. He inherited a vigor ous constitution, and kept it sound and healthy by con stunt exercise, and by refraining from all excesses in eating or drinking. He was buried in the Royal Vault in the Chapel of Holyrood House, where his embalmed body, in a state of entire preservation, was still to be seen in the time of the historian Keith.

"The young Queen was crowned by Cardinal Beaton at Stirling, on the 9th of September, 1543. Her mother, been told a report prevailed that the infant was sickly, and who watched over her with the most careful anxiety, had not likely to live. To disprove this calumny, she desired Janet Sinclair. Mary's nuise, to unswaddle her in the presence of the English Ambassador, who wrote to his own court that she was as goodly a child as he had seen of her age. "Soon after her birth, the Parliament nominated Commissioners, to whom they intrusted the charge of the Queen's person, leaving all her other interests to the care

of her mother. The two first years of her life Mary spent at Linlithgow, where it appears she had the small-pox, a point of some importance, as one of her historians remarks, in the biography of a beauty and a queen. The disease must have been of a particularly gentle kind, having left behind no visible traces During the greater part of the years 1545, 46, and 47, she resided at Stirling Castle, in the keeping of Lords Erskine and Livingstone. Here she received the first rudiments of education from two ecclesiastics, who were appointed her preceptors, more, however, as a matter of form, than from any use they could be of to her at so early an age. When the internal disturbances of the country rendered even Stirling Castle a somewhat dangerous residence, Mary was removed to Inchmahome, a sequestered island in the Lake of Monteith. That she might not be too lonely, and that a spirit of generous emulation might present her with an additional motive for the prosecution of her studies, the Queen Dowager selected four young ladies of rank as her companions and playmates. They were each about her daughter's age, and, either from chance, or because the conceit seemed natural, they all bore the same baptismal name. The four Maries were, Mary Beaton, a niece of Cardinal Beaton, Mary Fleming, daughter of Lord Fleming, Mary Livingstone, whose father was one of the young Queen's guardians, and Mary Seaton, daughter of Lord



Mary having remained upwards of two years in this island, those who had, at the time, the disposal of her future destiny, thought it expedient, for reasons which have been already explained, that she should be removed to France. She was accordingly, in the fifth year of her age, taken to Dumbarton, where she was delivered to the French Admiral, whose vessels were waiting to receive her, and attended by the Lords Erskine and Livingstone, her three natural brothers, and the four Maries, she left Scotland.

"The thirteen happiest years of Mary's life were spent in France. Towards the end of July, 1548, she sailed from Dumbarton, and, after a tempestuous voyage, landed at Brest on the 14th of August. She was there received by Henry II.'s orders, with all the honours due to her rank and royal destiny. She travelled, with her retinue, by easy stages, to the palace of St. Germain-en-Laye; and to mark the respect that was paid to her, the prisongates of every town she came to were thrown open, and the prisoners set free. Shortly after her arrival, she was

of the Parisian University, quickly discovering Mary's bility of mind. On the death of her husband Francis
capabilities, directed her studies with the most watchful took for her device a little branch of the liquoricet
anxiety. She was still attended by the two preceptors whose root only is sweet, all the rest of the plant
who had accompanied her from Scotland, and before she bitter, and the motto was, Dulce meum terra tegi
was ten years old, had made good progress in the French, her cloth of state was embroidered the sentence, Er
Latin, and Italian languages. French was, all her life, fin est mon commencement: a riddle,' says Hay
as familiar to her as her native tongue; and she wrote it understand not;' but which evidently meant to
with a degree of elegance which no one could surpass. a lesson of humility, and to remind her that life, w
Her acquaintaince with Latin was not of that superficial its grandeur, was the mere prologue to eternity.
kind but too common in the present day. This language French historian, Mezeray, mentions also that Mar
was then regarded as almost the only one on whose stabi- a medal struck, on which was represented a vessel
lity any reliance could be placed. It was, consequently, storm, with its masts broken and falling, illustrate
deemed indispensible, that all who aspired at any eminence the motto, Nunquam nisi rectam; indicating a
in literature should be able to compose in it fluently.mination rather to perish than deviate from the p
Mary's teacher was the celebrated George Buchanan, who integrity. When she was in England, she embr
was then in France, and who, whatever other praise he for the Duke of Norfolk a hand with a sword in it,
may be entitled to, was unquestionably one of the best ting vines, with the motto, Virescit vulnere virtad
scholars of his time. The young Queen's attention was these and similar fancies, she embodied strong, and
likewise directed to rhetoric, by Fauchet, author of a trea-original, thoughts with much delicacy.
tise on that subject, which he dedicated to his pupil; to "In the midst of these occupations and amue
history, by Pasquier; and to the delightful study of poetry, Mary was not allowed to forget her native country,
for which her genius was best suited, and for which she quent visits were paid her from Scotland by those
retained a predilection all her life, by Ronsard.
sonally attached to herself or her family. In 1558
Nor must it be imagined that Mary's childhood was mother, Mary of Guise, came over to see her, accomp
exclusively devoted to these more scholastic pursuits. She by several of the nobility. The Queen-dowager, a w
and her young companions, the Scotch Maries and the of strong affections, was so delighted with the
daughters of Henry, were frequently present at those mag. ment she discovered in her daughter's mind and
nificent galas and fêtes in which the King himself so much that she burst into tears of joy; and her Scottish
delighted, and which were so particularly in unison with ants were hardly less affected by the sight of their
the taste of the times, though nowhere conducted with so Sovereign. Henry, with his young charge, was
much elegance and grace as at the French Court. The when the Queen-dowager arrived. To testify his
summer tournaments and fêtes champêtres, and the winter for her, he ordered a triumph to be prepared, shi
festivals and masquerades, were attended by all the beauty sisted of one of those grotesque allegorical exhibin
and chivalry of the land. In these amusements, Mary, so much in vogue; and, shortly afterwards, the two
as she grew up, took a lively and innocent pleasure. The made a public entry into Paris. Mary of Guise had the
woods and gardens also of Fontainbleau, afforded a delight- opportunity likewise of seeing her son by her first ba
ful variation from the artificial splendours of Paris. In the Duke de Longueville, Mary's half-brother, ba
summer, sailing on the lakes, or fishing in the ponds; and seems to have spent his life in retirement, as
in winter, a construction of fortresses on the ice, a mimic scarcely notices him. It may well be conceived, th
battle of snow-balls, or skating, became royal pastimes. widow of James V. returned even to the regency of
Mary's gait and air, naturally dignified and noble, ac- land with reluctance, since she purchased the gra
quired an additional charm from the attention she paid to of her ambition by a final separation from her dhim
dancing and riding. The favourite dance at the time was-Vol. I. p. 42-46–49–54.
the Spanish minuet, which Mary frequently performed
with her young consort, to the admiration of the whole
court. In the livelier gailliarde, she was unequalled, as
was confessed, even by the beautiful Anne of Este, who,

in a pas-de-deux, acknowledged that she was eclipsed by

Most persons of extreme susceptibility are s Mary was so, and her historian thus accountsit

"Thus diversified by intercourse with her fr

sent, along with the King's own daughters, to one of the with her books, by study and recreation, Mary's first convents in France, where young ladies of distinction passed rapidly away. It has been already seen a were instructed in the elementary branches of education. whatever could have tended to corrupt the mind "The activity of her body, indeed, kept, upon all oc"The natural quickness of her capacity, and the early casions, full pace with that of her mind. She was partiners was carefully removed from the young Ques acuteness of her mind, now began to manifest themselves. cularly fond of hunting, and she and her maids of honour soon as Mary entered upon her teens, she and br She made rapid progress in acquiring that species of were frequently seen following the stag through the anpanions, the two young princesses, Henry's da Enowledge suited to her years, and her lively imagination cestral forests of France. Her attachment to this amuse spent several hours every day in the private apart went even the length of attaching a more than ordinary ment, which continued all her life, exposed her, on several Catherine de Medicis, whose conversation, as well w interest to the calm and secluded life of a nunnery. It occasions, to some danger. So early as the year 1559, when of the foreign ambassadors and other persons of det was whispered, that she had already expressed a wish to hunting in France, some part of her dress was caught by who paid their respects to her, they had thus an opp separate herself for ever from the world; and it is not im- the bough of a tree, and she was cast off her horse when of hearing. Conæus mentions, that Mary was probable, that had this wish been allowed to foster itself galloping at full speed. Many of the ladies and gentle. served to avail herself, with great earnestness, silently in her bosom, Mary might ultimately have taken men in her train passed by without observing her, and opportunities of acquiring knowledge; and the veil, in which case her life would have been a blank some so near as actually to tread on her riding-dress. As hinted, that the superior intelligence she evinced. in history. But these views were not consistent with the soon as the accident was discovered, she was raised from parison with Catharine's own daughters, was the best more ambitious projects entertained by Henry and her the ground; but, though the shock had been considerable, of exciting that Queen's jealousy. It was, pe uncles of Lorraine. As soon as they were informed of the she had too manly a spirit to complain, and, re-adjusting some of these conferences that Mary imper bent which her mind appeared to have taken, she was again her hair, which had fallen into confusion, she again bibed, from her future mother-in-law, and her d removed from the convent to the palace. To reconcile mounted her horse, and rode home smiling at the accident. frequent visitor, Nostradamus, a slight para her to parting with the vestal sisters, Henry, whose conAnother, but more sedentary amusement with Mary, tendency to superstitious belief then so preval duct towards her was always marked by affection and deli- was the composition of devices. To excel in these recacy, selected, from all the noble Scotch families then quired some wit and judgment. A device was the skilful Nicholas Cretin, or Nostradamus, as he was residing in France, a certain number to constitute her coupling of a few expressive words with any engraved monly called, who combined in his own perso future household. The tears which Mary shed, however, figure or picture. It was an art intimately connected with somewhat incongruous professions of physician, upon leaving the nunnery, proved the warmth of her young the science of heraldry, and seems to have suggested the and philosopher. He asserted, that he was bet heart; and that her feelings were not of merely momentary modern seal and motto. The composition of these defectly acquainted with the laws of planetary duration, is evinced by the frequent visits she subsequently vices was, as it is somewhere called, only an elegant but that, by the inspiration of divine power, t paid this asylum of her childhood; and by the altar-piece species of trifling; but it had something intellectual in it, predict events of futurity. The style of his p which she embroidered with her own hands for the chapel which the best informed ladies of the French court liked. was, in general, sufficiently obscure; yet s of the convent.



An old author, who writes upon this subject, elevates it to "So far from being a just cause of regret, nothing could a degree of importance rather amusing. It delights the have redounded more to Mary's advantage than her edu- eye, he says, it captivates the imagination; it is also cation and residence in France. If bigotry prevailed profitable and useful; and therefore surpasseth all other among the clergy, it was not countenanced at the Court, arts, and also painting, since this only represents the body for Henry cared little about religion, and his sister Mar. and exquisite features of the face, whereas a device exgaret was suspected of leaning to the Reformed opi-poses the rare ideas and gallant sentiments of its author; If Parisian manners were known to be too deeply it also excels poetry, inasmuch as it joineth profit with tinctured with licentiousness, the palace of Catherine pleasure, since none merit the title of devices unless they must be excepted from the charge; for even the deport-at once please by their grace, and yield profit by their docment of Diana herself was not more grave and decorous trine.' than hers, and, for his sister's sake, the King dared not have countenanced any of those grosser immoralities in which Henry the Eighth of England so openly in dulged. The Cardinal of Lorraine, who was at the head

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Mary's partialities were commonly lasting, and when in very different circumstances, she frequently loved to return to this amusement of her childhood. Some of the emblems she invented betray much elegance and sensi

the most remarkable characters about Henni

reverence paid to learning in those days, (and Nes
was a very library of learning,) that he was co
consulted even by the first statesmen in France.
had far too lively a fancy to escape the infection:
force of this early bias continued to be felt by her
less all her life."-Vol. I. p. 56, 57.
As Mary was a staunch supporter of polyandria,
in practice, our readers may be pleased to have s
count of her first lord.

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The time now approached when Henry began to of confirming the French authority in Scotland, br summating the contract of marriage which had existed between Francis and Mary. This was tot ever, to be done without considerable opposi several quarters. The Constable Montmorency, and

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and from a kind and tender father of his negroes, he becomes a harsh and hard master, and both Cæsar (the man of colour) and his sister are abandoned to their fate. The latter becomes the mistress of a tyrannical planter; and the former, returning to the island of his birth, determines on being revenged on the author of his sister's miseries and disgrace, and for this purpose excites the negroes to run away to the bush. This he does twice: the first time, the place of retreat is discovered, and, by the remonstrances and kind persuasions of a Moravian missionary and Sir William Belmont, (the brother of a planter on the island, and lately a fellow-traveller to the West Indies time the military are called out, the negroes are forced to with Cæsar,) they are persuaded to return the second return, and he is taken prisoner. Before this occurrence, however, a sale takes place on the estate of a planter who has encouraged a Moravian missionary, and instructed his slaves. This scene of woe is truly affecting, as is also the meeting of Cæsar and his father, when both of them relent, and pardon each other.

of Bourbon, already trembled at the growing influ- Now for the author's description of the person of this it an interesting subject, because we conceive that no Engthe Guises, plainly foreseeing, that as soon as the celebrated beauty, which we think very pretty and very lishman ought to be insensible to the claims of Negroes, of the Duke and Cardinal of Lorraine became wife rational, except the absurd remark that insipidity attaches or uninterested in the cause of freedom. The hero of the he Dauphin, and consequently, upon Henry's death, en of France, their own influence would be at an end. necessarily to regular features. tale is a young man of colour, educated in England with not improbable that Montmorency aimed at marrying "During the whole of these solemnities, every eye was the expectation of inheriting the paternal estates; but his of his own sons to Mary. At all events, he endea- fixed on the youthful Mary; and, inspired by those feel-father, in the meantime, marrying a woman of a proud, ed to persuade Henry that he might find a more ad-ings which beauty seldom fails to excite, every heart despotic temper, changes his conduct under her influence, ageous alliance for Francis. The Guises, however, offered up prayers for her future welfare and happiness. hot to be thus overreached; and the King more wil- She was now at that age when feminine loveliness is perlistened to their powerful representations in favour haps most attractive. It is not to be supposed, indeed, match, as it had long been a favourite scheme with that, in her sixteenth year, her charms had ripened into lf. It would be uncharitable to ascribe to the agency that full-blown maturity which they afterwards attained; of those who opposed it, an attempt which was but they were, on this account, only the more fascinating some time before, by a person of the name of Stuart, Some have conjectured that Mary's beauty has been extish archer in the King's guards, to poison Mary. tolled far beyond its real merits; and it cannot be denied t being detected, was tried, condemned, and execu- that many vague and erroneous notions exist regarding it. but made no confession which could lead to any dis. But that her countenance possessed, in a pre-eminent det of his motives. It is most likely that he had em- gree, the something which constitutes beauty, is sufficiently the Reformed religion, and was actuated by a fana- attested by the unanimous declaration of all contemporary desire to save his country from the dominion of a writers. It is only, however, by carefully gathering together lic princess. hints scattered here and there, that any accurate idea can rancis, the young Dauphin, who was much about be formed of the lineaments of a countenance which has own age, was far inferior to her, both in personal siast. Generally speaking, Mary's features were more so long ceased to exist, unless in the fancy of the enthu ance and mental endowments. He was of a very Grecian than Roman, though without the insipidity that #constitution; and the energies of his mind seem been repressed by the feebleness of his body. But would have attached to them, had they been exactly regu. ble to boast of any distinguished virtues, he was lar. Her nose exceeded, a little, the Grecian proportion aded by the practice of any vice. He was amiable, in length. Her hair was very nearly of the same colour as affectionate, and shy. He was aware of his want James V.'s-dark yellow, or auburn, and, like his, clus sical strength, and feared lest the more robust should tered in luxuriant ringlets. Her eyes which some writers, it a subject of ridicule. He appears to have loved misled by the thousand blundering portraits of her scatwith the tenderest affection, being probably anxious tered everywhere, conceive to have been gray, or blue, or eto her, by every mark of devotion, for the sacrifice hazel,-were of a chesnut colour,-darker, yet matching If there are any persons unacquainted with the true thave seen she was making in surrendering herself well with her auburn hair. Her brow was high, open, condition of the negroes, prejudiced by the sophistries of in all the lustre of her charms. Yet there is good and prominent. Her lips were full and expressive, as the the opponents of emancipation, or indifferent to the claims to believe that Mary really loved Francis. They lips of the Stuarts generally were; and she had a small of the slave-population of our West India Islands, we en playmates from infany; they had prosecuted dimple in her chin. Her complexion was clear, and very Istudies together; and though Francis cared little fair, without a great deal of colour in her cheeks. Her would recommend them to peruse the System. Even if pleasures of society, and rather shunned than en- mother was a woman of large stature, and Mary was also the information it gives were less important than it really d those who wished to pay their court to him, above the common size. Her person was finely propor-is; if its arguments, in opposition to slavery, were less was aware that, for this very reason, he was only tioned, and her carriage exceedingly graceful and digni- conclusive than they are the tale is so well written, and fe sincere in his passion for her. It was not in fied." vol. i. p. 64-65. so exceedingly affecting, that it cannot fail to repay the nature to be indifferent to those who evinced affectrifling cost of the volume, and to compensate for the her; and if her fondness for Francis were mingled , it has long been asserted that pity is akin to time occupied in its perusal. We should be glad to give an extract, but to do so would be an act of injustice to ́ the work, which must be read entire in order that its merits may be appreciated. Feeling, as we do, the grea importance of this subject, we cannot but rejoice that the cause of emancipation has found an advocate in CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. One more competent to expose the negroes' cause could not, we believe, have been found; and we feel confident that the volume before us, if generally perused, will very greatly increase the number of its

Literature, Criticism, &c.


The System; a Tale of the West Indies. By Charlotte
Elizabeth. 12mo. pp. 238. F. Westley and A. H.
Davies, Paternoster-row, London. 58.


"Knowledge,” it has been frequently and justly as-friends.
serted, is power." The ability, therefore, to com-
municate knowledge, must be a talent of no mean value, a
trust of no ordinary importance. When this power is
neglected, or abused, either a negative evil or a positive
mischief must be the result; but when, on the contrary,
it is rightly employed, it must prove a source of incal-




Tide Table.

Morn. Even. Height.

h. m.'h. m. ft. in.

Festivals, &c.

6 3 34 4 715 0 John Evan. ante Port L

Friday 9 72

8 57 14 11

4 7 57 14

Thursday 8 6 2 6 44 14 1
Saturday..10 8 27
Sunday....11 9 22
Monday 110 5111 32 19

he 24th of April, 1558, the nuptials took place. he marriage was solemnized in the church of Notre the ceremony being performed by the Cardinal of , Archbishop of Rouen. Upon this occasion, the les were graced by the presence of all the most illuspersonages of the court of France; and when Franfing a ring from his finger, presented it to the Archwho, pronouncing the benediction, placed it on the Queen's finger, the vaulted roof of the cathedral ith congratulations, and the multitude without rent with joyful shouts." The spectacle was altogether the most imposing which, even in that age of spechad been seen in Paris. The procession, upon leavchurch, proceeded to the palace of the Archbishop, a magnificent collation was prepared,-largess, as dalong, being proclaimed among the people, in he of the King and Queen of Scots. In the after the royal party returned to the palace of the Tour-Catherine de Medicis and Mary sitting together culable advantage to mankind. Unhappily there are too Wednesday 7 4 42 5 21 14 1 same palanquin, and a cardinal walking on each many cases in which this talent has been perverted, or Henry and Francis followed on horseback, with a misemployed. There have been, and there still are, he of princes and princesses in their train. The many public writers who have wasted their time on comler of these nuptials is unable to conceal his rapture, e describes the manner in which the palace had paratively unimportant subjects, or who have prostituted pared for their reception. Its whole appearance, their ability by exerting it in communicating the knowfus, was "light and beautiful as Elysium." Dur-edge of evil, or in advocating the cause of injustice and per, which was served upon a marble table, in the irreligion. The writer, on whose work we are about to hall, the King's band of one hundred gentlemen' comment, is not, however, of this class. She has devoted I forth delicious strains of music. The members of her attention to those subjects which are the most worthy ment attended in their robes; and the princes of the Performed the duty of servitors,-the Duke of Guise as master of the ceremonies. The banquet being ded, a series of the most magnificent masks and neries, prepared for the occasion, was introduced. Pageant, twelve artificial horses, of admirable mesm, covered with cloth of gold, and ridden by the : heirs of noble houses, attracted deserved attention. were succeeded by six galleys, which sailed into the each rich as Cleopatra's barge, and bearing on its two seats, the one filled by a young cavalier, who, as vanced, carried off from among the spectators, and y placed in the vacant chair, the lady of his love. fendid tournament concluded these rejoicings." vol. i. 60, 63-64

of her pen; and, by her productions, she has done much
in promoting the objects of humanity and religion. Her
attention has, at length, been directed to the subject of
Negro Slavery; and, in the volume before us, she has de-
picted it in its true colours. The sophistries by which this
system have been defended, are, in "The Tale of the West
Indies," met by fair and cogent arguments; the mis.
representations of its friends are exposed; and the true
condition of the slaves is discovered.

9 47 16 0 5th Sunday after Easter.

910 30 16 9

5 New Moon.




[From the Liverpool Courier.] Extreme Thermo- Extreme State of during meter 8 heateu- the Wind Night. morning ring Day at noon.

0 47 0 55 O W Fair.


at noon.

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Weave garlands, brightest garlands, for the merry morn of Concerning an engagement, that lately there has been, May.

And go mingle where her votaries are found; The Joyous peasant group, in their holiday array,

The morrice lightly dancing blythe, the lofty column

And for the stricken heart,
That in pleasure has no part,

Ah, weave, yet weave a garland meet, of flowers; sweet Bowers!

And whisper of the rose,

That nor blight or ruin knows;

Where the British and their Allies beat the Turks in Navarin.

On the 20th of October, off Navarin we lay,
And in the afternoon, my boys, we sailed into the bay;
Where the Russian, French, and English fleet, in good order
there was seen,

To commence the glorious action in the bay of Navarin.

The British squadron first went in, Codrington led the van,
While every British heart of oak beside his gun did stand;
They let us pass their batteries, nor offered to let fly,
Until the British squadron their fortress had passed by.

And the glorious sun that sparkles fair on Salem's royal Then thinking our small squadron would be an easy prey,




The strife is o'er;-a band Is gathering on the hill; Speechless and sad the outlaws stand,

And all around is still :
Their chieftain's blood is flowing fast,
Each fainting gasp may be his last.

His soul is sunk in crime,
Yet tears flood not his eyes;

In health and vigour, youth and prime,
Call'd from the earth, he lies
Reckless if bliss or punishment
Await him after life is spent.

The angry waters roar
Beneath the rocky steep,

One form alone that looks them o'er
Is weak enough to weep;

A youthful female, fair as light,
Kneels drooping in the warrior's sight.


The Turkish and Egyptian fleets began to blaze away; But we gave to them three cheers, and 1eturned the compliment,

And then, like British hearts of oak, unto our work we went.

The shot then from their batteries on our allies they poured down,

But soon their lofty battlements they levelled with the ground,
The batteries being silenced, they made no more delay,
But crowded on a press of sail, and joined us in the fray.

Near four hours and a half this bloody battle raged,
While the brave and gallant Albion five Turkish ships engaged;
But the Albion's crew, young men of war, such courage did

That the Turks fell in confusion-at their quarters could not stay.

The Asia and Genoa with such gallant tars were manned,
That the fury of their fire the Turks could not withstand.
And such a well-directed fire all the allied fleet maintained,
That soon a glorious victory o'er superior force we gained.
And though many a gallant seaman all on our decks did lie,
Yet where one Christian hero fell a hundred Turks did die.
Of one and sixty men of war, we left them but sixteen,
The rest we either burnt or sunk in the Bay of Navarin.

But now the Turkish fleet's destroyed, and conquerors remain,,

Here's a health unto great George our King, and long may be reign;

Likewise to Admiral Codrington, who bravely led the
Success to all his officers, and every foremast man.

Long life to Captain Ommany, his officers, and crew,
And to every gallant seaman, that proved himself true bi
Likewise to every officer, each seaman and marine,
Who fought for Greekish freedom in the bay of Navarin.
But now the battle's over, and we are homeward bound
Unto our wives and sweethearts, where there's comfort

There, also, pretty girls, will on the shore be seen, Saying, you are welcome, brave boys, from the bay of Na Chorus-Seamen all join with me, and abolish slave

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Amarantha, sweet and fair,
Oh, braid no more that shining hair!
Let it fly, as unconfin'd,

As its calm ravisher, the wind;
Who hath left his darling, th' east,
To wanton o'er that spicy nest.
Ev'ry tress must be confest,
But neatly tangled, at the best:
Like a clue of golden thread,
Most excellently ravelled.
Do not, then, wind up that light
In ribands, and o'ercloud in night,
Like the sun's in's early ray;
But shake your head, and scatter day!


Why should you swear I am forsworn!
Since thine I vow'd to be;
Lady, it is already morn,

And 'twas last night I swore to thee
That fond impossibility.

Have I not lov'd thee much and long,
A tedious twelve hours' space?

I must all other beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new embrace,
Could I still dote upon thy face.
Not but all joy in thy brown hair
By others may be found;
But I must search the black and fair,
Like skilful mineralists that sound
For treasure in unplow'd-up ground
Then, if when I have lov'd my round,
Thou prov'st the pleasant she;
With spoils of meaner beauties crown'd,
I laden will return to thee,
Even sated with variety.


Oh, could you view the melody Of every grace,

And music of her face, You'd drop a tear; Seeing more harmony

In her bright eye

Than now you hear.

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Ye giant winds! that from your gloomy sleep
Rise in your wrath, and revel on the deep;
ightnings! that are the mystic gleams of God,
hat glane'd when on the sacred mount he trod;
nd ye, ye thunders! that begird His form,
ealing your loud hosannah's o'er the storm!
round me rally in your mingled might,
nd strike my being with a dread delight;
iblimely musing, let me pause and see,
ad pour my awe-struck soul, O God! to Thee.
A thunder-storm!-the eloquence of heaven,
hen every cloud is from its slumber riven,
ho hath not paused beneath its hollow groan,
id felt Omnipotence around him thrown?
ith what a gloom the ush'ring scene appears!

le leaves all fluttering with instinctive fears,
e waters curling with a fellow dread,
reezeless fervour round creation spread,
d, last, the heavy rain's reluctant shower,

th big drops patt'ring on the tree and bower.
uile wizard shape the bowing sky deform,-
mark the coming of the thunder-storm!
Oh! now to be alone, on some grand height,
here heaven's black curtains shadow all the sight,

d watch the swollen clouds their bosom clash,

fle fleet and far the living lightnings flash,-
mark the cavern of the sky disclose
efurnace-flames that in their wombs repose,
see the fiery arrows fall and rise,
lizzy chase along the rattling skies,-
stirs the spirit while the echoes roll,
God, in thunder, rocks from pole to pole!


[From Pringle's Ephemrides.]

m deserts wild and many a pathless wood avage climes where I have wandered long, ose hills and streams are yet ungraced by song ing, illustrious bard, this garland rude. #offering, though uncouth, in kindly mood ou wilt regard, if haply there should be, ng meaner things the flower simplicity, sh from young nature's virgin solitude, ept this frail memorial, honour'd Scott, favour'd intercourse in former dayWords of kindness I have ne'er forgotlets of friendship I can ne'er repay; I have found (and wherefore say it not?) e minstrel's heart as noble as his lay.

supplemental sheet affords us the opportunity of the following article, which has been repeatedly


THIMS AND ODDITIES FOR THE YOUNG, With Humorous Illustrations by H. Heath.

Which, 'twas thought, would be well, and as daintily, stor❜d.
The Bridegroom was Poker, so gallant and gay,
Though stiff and tight-lac`d, like the beaux of the day.
For a long time it seem'd that Miss Tong's would decide
That Shovel should carry her home as his bride;
But, somehow, Beau Poker had made such a stir
In her bosom, that she could no longer defer
The transports he spoke of-besides, it was known
At the parties about the west end of the town,
That Shovel had paid his addresses to Brush,
Then left her forlorn, to sigh, languish, and blush.
At first, at his falsehood she kick'd up a dust,
But, rememb'ring the adage of "What must be, must,"
She married to Nail, who liv'd up in a corner,
And supported her well, though others might scorn her.
Tongs mention'd these matters to Shovel one morn,
Who threaten'd to sift the affair, quite in scorn,
His honour was wounded-but which he forgot-
So she smil'd on another, as, pray, who would not?
Now in flock'd the guests, Tables, Fenders, and Chairs,
While the sweet Master Forks with Miss Knives came in pairs,
As bride's-men and maidens, to be so delighted;
And when the fair Tongs to her spouse was united,
Came Pompey the Pug, and his cousin the Cat,
And Jocko the Ape, in a fine gold-lac'd hat,

Who, while Mrs. Puss at the breakfast was sitting,
Offer'd tea, toast, and cake, with politeness befitting,
When Puss, eying Pompey with looks kind, though sharp,
Volunteer'd very kindly to play on the harp.

All seem'd quite delighted with Puss's behaviour,

The Philanthropist.



A truth so strange 'twere bold to think it true."

The proposition "that man is born to be free," is sug gested by nature, sanctioned by reason, and confirmed by religion. Nature lifts up her voice on this subject; reason hears and approves her exclamation; and religion, while it justifies her assertions, re-echoes the harmonious sounds. In the garden of Eden appeared man, the glory of the creation, the lord of all created beings, and the image of his great Creator. Here no hand was stretched forth to bind him, nor any voice but that of the Sovereign of the universe was heard to command or control him. When Omnipotence breathed into man the breath of life, the Almighty sent him forth as a free agent, amenable to no law but that of God, subject to no authority but that of his Maker. Through the fertile garden of Eden he walked in manly pride, constituted by Him who made the world the lord of animate and inanimate creation. If we look to man in his wild, uncultivated state, (a condition in which nature may be expected to speak in her own language) we shall find that freedom is inscribed on every countenance, and in every heart; and that liberty is the great principle (if we may so speak) of every action. Among the slaves of the West Indies we hear the voice of nature speaking in loud and penetrating accents. Why does the eye of the negro glisten at the sound of freedom? Why is he anxious in his inquiries respecting liberty? And why

So she pull'd off her gloves, which were white, like her favour. does he exult in the fancied approach of her lovely form?

How sweetly Puss warbled! how sweetly she play'd!
Such science before was scarce ever displayed.
Next Miss Polly Parrot exerted her pipe,
And sang with much feeling the air "Cherry Ripe:"
Fender saw with regret Shovel still in the room,
For she dying to sing was, "A broom, buy a broom."
When up rose the Bride, with a courtesy to all,
And declar'd, if they lik'd, she would open a ball.
Each thank'd her with joy-so, without more ado,
With Poker a fine minuet she went through.
The Knives, who in cutting e'en Vestris excell'd,
To waltz with the tiny Miss Forks were prevail'd,
While Jocko and Poll, not deficient in skill,
Join'd the Tables and Chairs in the last new quadrille :
Till somewhat alarmed at the riot and clatter,
John Footman stepp'd up to inquire the matter.-
Such wonderful pastimes at first made him start-
But he made his best bow, and flew off like a dart.
When the Housekeeper heard what was doing up stairs,
That the Tables were dancing the hays with the Chairs,
She took forth preserves from each closet and shelf,

Nicely serv'd up in china, in glass, and in delf;

To the Knives and the Forks she sent each a stew'd pear,
To the Tables some jam-to the Chairs, some stuff'd Hare-
To the Parrot, dried cherries-to Puss some fried fish-
To Jocko some rob, and some nuts in a dish.

To the Bride and the Bridegroom, distinction to make, is an innocent and an entertaining performance. Just hot from the bars, a fine Birmingham cake. ors in the verse stories are chiefly animale parlanti, In short, such profusion of ices and wines, eir conversations are calculated to give great delight with apples and apricots, nect'rines and pines, youthful mind. The metrical part of the task might

een executed with more care, and well-taught chil-Appear'd in succession, the guests wanted words
will find out the author's defective ear in rhyming. To express their delight at the Housekeeper's hoards.
theless, the writer is an ingenious man, and deserves So they gaily regal'd till the Sun had long set,

fall that part of the human race which lies between And then seemed as though they that instant had met,
ears of seven and eleven. By way of specimen, we Till Pat Watchman went by and gave each a sad shock,
give the Wedding of Poker and Tongs; where the
lants of the fire-side, and not animals, are the dra- In bawling out lustily" Past twelve o'clock !"

Why does the slave evince a reluctance to work, while the free labourers of this country proceed cheerfully to their employ? And whence the apprehensions of the planters as to the consequences of emancipation? Are not these all witnesses in the cause of truth, and expressions from the lips of nature, in favour of liberty? The colonists confirm these testimonies when they declare their fears of a rising of the slaves; every negro speaks in favour of our argument when he runs away to the bush; and hence the ne cessity for a military establishment in our West India possessions.

Nor is reason silent on this important subject. She reminds us that HE who made man is his supreme Governor, and that, unless deputed by this great Being, no other person has a right to compel him to be his slave. The Governor of the Universe has allowed and authorized men to establish civil governments, and to enforce penalties on those who offend against their just enactments; but he has nowhere given to one man the power to subject another entirely to his authority; and therefore reason declares that the slave-holder assumes this right, and takes upon himself to exercise the undelegated prerogative of the Deity. While nature declares men to have been born on an equality with respect to liberty, reason asserts that an individual has n right to usurp unlimited authority over another. The sus pension of liberty has, from time immemorial, been the punishment allotted to certain violations of the laws of society, of nations, or of religion. This is a presumption in favour of the value of liberty, and, as there is no higher' punishment, except the loss of life, it is inferred that its value is next to that of existence. Not only has the suspension of liberty been the punishment of crime; it has been the compensation for debt. Thus it was amongst the Jews; and in consequence of the existence of a law of that people, which enacted that a man should render six years out of seven of personal service to his creditor, (that service to last no longer than forty-nine years,) in case he had no other means of liquidating his debt, it has been asserted

persona. The plates are humorous, and add to the Many caught up their hats-though there still remain'd that slavery was countenanced and commanded by God,

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and encouraged amongst His people. We may go further than this, and say, thus it is in our own country at this day. Now, as the negroes have committed no criminal act to merit the utter suspension of liberty, nor have incurred

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