Jay stretched in calm indolence on the warm hearth-rug, now giving a slight shiver or stifled bark in his dreams, then indulging a most wanton and luxurious stretch, and settling himself in some new posture, with an enviable consciousness of comfort. A large Jortoiseshell cat slept under his neck, or if she woke, woke only to purr, hunch up her back, and dig her claws into the soft rug. I was placed by the fireside in a deep, low-seated, high-backed arm-chair, with delightful cushions; my supper was finished; a brown-figured jug was on the table. The Lover's Progress was in my hand, and I was just reading that beautiful song which Dorilaus and Chander hear after supper in the Hostel, chaunt ed by the ghost of their old landlord. 'Tis late and cold, stir up the fire, Welcome, welcome shall fly round, And I shall smile, THOUGH UNDERGROUND! -thus situated, if comfort be happiness, judge whether I was happy or not! In the midst of all these appliances and means to boot, when my reposing body and pleased mind were alike indulged, that exquisite picture in the Castie of Indolence was realized, Near the pavilion where we slept, still ran And sobbing breezes sigh'd, and oft began As Heaven and earth they would together At doors and windows threat'ning seem'd to The Demons of the Tempest growling fell; hall. and frequently has its arrested finger and mute voice reproached me in the morning for the idleness or forgetfulness of the preceding night-yet the moment I restored it to life, it shewed me it bore no malice, by going true as ever. It has been bruised, it has been shaken, nay, it has been mutilated of its minute finger-still nothing wearies its indefatigable action, nothing disturbs its unerring fidelity, save the cruel and ungrateful neglect that condemns it to silence and inactivity, Ay, it is still an excellent watchtime was when it was a valued one,→ when the schoolboy of fourteen deemed that the splendours of Potosi's mine were eclipsed by its silver case. Remorse seizes me when I think of its present dismantled state; te tit-te tit-there old boy, go thy ways and chirrup through the night as merrily as thou mayestto-morrow thou shalt have a new finger. Who has ever noticed on a frosty morning the various tracery on the window? There is not a more fruitful source of reverie than LATTICE ICEWORK. Imperial Mistress of the fur-clad Russ, was but an uncomfortable and dismal sort o of the coloured ice flowers, too rashly wooed by a painted lamp,-shower cold water on their enthusiasm! What a Tantalean punishment, the sight of commodious seats for weary limbs, while Sofa and Couch, and high-built Throne august, invited to repose, and repelled the warm touch with icy lubricity. a For my part, I had rather gaze, on frosty morning, from the warın folds of counterpane and blanket, under the comfortable canopy of tester and curtain, on one pane of the casement where the frost has painted a picture in the night, than roam at the risk of catarrh and rheuma tism through all the living architecture of the ice palace; though gorgeous be its myriad festoons of many-coloured wreaths that never thank the sun for their painting, and though meteor galaxy of lamps illumed but durst not warm the glittering frame. * Vide Cowper's splendid description of the Empress Anne's Ice Palace. There is, to my mind, wonderful beauty and sublimity in the nightly impress on the lattice pane, which meets the eye on its first opening to the dreary white world. Look there, for instance, what a perfect landscape, and what a story told in that single pane. There is a high road with a gentle ascent between two stupendous barricades of mountain tufted to their very summit with feathery spangled thickets; to the left the road winds abruptly out of sight round the base of a projecting and heathery craig, and in that precise spot, the most picturesque crucifix, gently sloping, displays its graceful simplicity. Was the peaceful pilgrim or armed knight assassinated there?-or is there a cool stone shrine, a beaded well that sanctifies the lonely spot ?-imagination may tell the tale either way-there is the crucifix. And see on another pane, what a terrific glacier, what a chaotic congress of mountains, what thunder-splitten spires, what tottering pinnacles. See yon grove of taper firs on the very brink of the abysme; look at the horizontal trunks of the pine that the mountain tornado has piled and overthrown in disjointed masses and, dizziness to the eye, behold that fragile bridge, no thicker than a thread, spanning a sightless fathomless chasm, and that steepled convent on the wood-wreathed rock But softer visions salute you as you turn to the next pane-'tis a bower Armida might have copied from! A long vista avenue of the most delicious foliage stretches away from its entrance, while in its latticed alcove, all the variegated pomps of the most rare and luxuriant shrubs have interwoven a brilliant shade. Here the creeper trails its delicate festoon -there the broad trunk poises a world of foliage, and everywhere the bells, and Diahs and Stars, of a million florets tremble to the breeze. My life for it, they have heard lovers' vows ere now, and day alone has stopped the ballads of their Philomel. Sometimes the rampant monsters that formed the train of the night-hag who scared our sleep, frown in rude and wild etching to our morning gaze on the frostwork window, grinning impotent menace -a pard's head, with the leathern wings of a bat a human face with an eagle's beak, sans eyes, and fanged like a boar all these spread their spectral blazonry amid wreathy clouds of frostwork. Yonder is the winding outstretched array of some chivalric or monastic cavalcade; there be banners and plumes, and a canopy and phalanx of lances, all minutely carved by the magician frost. In sooth, he works wonders; it is as if the sightless couriers of the air, who sweep in a breath from the Antarctic to the Equator, delighted to carve these quaint imagery on the glass; as if the wondrous scenes and events they alone witness were transferred to the storied pane, a silent emblem, a mystic allegory, to be perused and admired in silent bewilderment ! Well, let the medieval artists boast of their matchless power, of making the sun himself a haughty tributary to their gorgeous paintings-let them exult as their glorious colours arrest and alchemize as in a crucible his meridian refulgence, as it streams in splendid metamorphosis through the laceolate windings of some great western window, or the rose-wrought mullions and gorgeous flower-work of some eastern oriel, or falls on the checquered pavement of black and white marble, turning it to emeralds, rubies, and amethysts:-let them exult, I say, over us degenerate mortals, as they point to the feeble hues of modern stained glass; they may enjoy their triumph, we have an artist still to decorate our windows, whose fairy, magnificence of design, and wild Salvatorial sublimity of detail, they never could rival, and who, for one picture of their's, the toil of years, presents us with a hundred, and never two alike; perpetual variety, perpetual novelty, adorning and amusing when all beside is dullness,and vanishing the instant that the relenting brilliance of sunshine renders his pictorial divertisements unnecessary,—the Necromancer Frost! be continued.) Notices of New Books. THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMA. A praiseworthy attempt, we perceive, is being made, to produce periodically a cheap edition of the works of the Old Dramatists. The endeavour is worthy of support, and we most cordially hope it may meet with the warmest encouragement. Two Numbers of the collection are already published. They comprise two extremely singular productions; the first part devoted to Ralph Royster Doyster, and the succeeding one to the much talked of comedy of Gammer Gurton's Needle, by Bishop Still, which was for some time considered the first regular comedy; but the editor of the present neat and compendious edition informs us that the play with which he has commenced his labours, may be considered a more complete piece as far as regards construction, and one of some fifteen years prior date. We think it would have been better if he had started with a religious mystery and followed on with some of Heywood's interludes; he would then have exhibited the English Drama in its rudest state, and the gradual progress it made towards the perfection attained at the close of the sixteenth century. It is not too late to act upon our suggestion, and we feel convinced that by so doing it would render the collection far more complete, and cause it to be held in higher estimation. However, we are not at all disposed to cavil with the undertaking, for we think it both a spirited and laudable one. The productions of those bright stars, Sackville, Marlowe, Chap. man, Shirley, Daniel, Brome, Peele, Marston, Dekker, Mayne, and Rowley, besides a numerous host of of others, who shone so brightly during the reigns of Elizabeth, James, and the first Charles, have too long been neglected, and we hope that we shall now have them collected for the amusement and information of the present and succeeding gene rations. We have not classed the name of the Warwickshire Bard, nor that of Uncle Ben, as Howell familiarly calls Jonson; nor those of Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, or Ford, because there are extant excellent available editions of them, and we are desirous of seeing the efforts of those first reprinted, which at present are rarities of price far beyond the means of most purchasers. Independent of the play above named in the first part, we have printed with it Wright's singularly curious tract upon Old Plays and Players, (a bonne bouche in itself,)" that tells us all about the state of the Theatres, during those troub lous times, ye Civil Warres,' and the sufferings experienced by the amusing vagabonds,' during the puritanical æra, when the drama succumbed to the Round Heads, and the conventicle flourished on its ruins. Matters stood thus with the stage till the Merry Monarch' came, caused its revival, and patronized both plays and players. There is such a vast fund of interesting matter in the dialogue of Wright's alluded to, that we shall venture to introduce here a portion of it. The following gives some idea of the favourite actors and their line of business in the olden time,' as well as the number of theatres and companies performing. "LOVEWIT. Pray, sir, what masterparts can you remember the old Black friar's men to act in Jonson, Shakspeare, and Fletcher's plays? "TRUEMAN. What I can at present recollect I'll tell you. Shakspeare, (who as I have heard, was a much better poet than player,) Burbage, Hemmings, and others of the older sort, were dead before I knew the town; but in my time, before the wars, Lowin used to act, with mighty applause, Falstaff, Morose, Volpone, and Mammon in the Alchymist; Melantius, in the Maid's Tragedy; and at the same time Amyntor was play'd by Stephen Hammerton, (who was, at first, a most noted and beautiful woman-actor, but afterwards he acted, with equal grace and applause, a young lover's part); Taylor acted Hamlet incomparably well, Jago, Truewit in the Silent Woman, and Face in the Alchymist; Swanston us'd to play Othello; Pollard and Robinson were comedians; so was Shank, who us'd to act Sir Roger, in the Scornful Lady: these were of the Black-friars. Those of principal note at the Cock-pit, were Perkins, Michael Bowyer, Sumner, William Allen, and Bird, eminent actors, and Robins, a comedian. Of the other companies I took little notice. "LOVEWIT. Were there so many companies? "TRUEMAN. Before the wars there were in being all these play-houses at the same time. The Black-friars, and Globe on the Bank-side, a winter and summer house, belonging to the same company, called the King's Servants; the Cock-pit or Phoenix, in Drury-lane, called the Queen's Servants; the Private House in Salisbury-court, called the Prince's Servants; the Fortune, near Whitecrossstreet; and the Red Bull, at the upper end of St. John's Street: the two last were mostly frequented by citizens, and the meaner sort of people. All these companies got money, and liv'd in reputation, especially those of the Black-friars, who were men of grave and sober behaviour." The subjoined shows the shifts to which the players were put during the time of Old Noll. "LOVEWIT. Pr'ythee, Trueman, what became of the players when the stage was put down, and the rebellion rais'd? "TRUEMAN. Most of 'em, except Lowin, Taylor, and Pollard, (who were superannuated) went into the king's army, and, like good men and true, serv'd their old master, tho' in a different, yet more honourable capacity. Robinson was kill'd at the taking of a place, (I think Basinghouse), by Harrison, he that was after hang'd at Charing-cross, who refused him quarter, and shot him in the head when he had laid down his arms; abusing scripture at the same time, in saying, • Cursed is he that doth the work of the Lord negligently. Mohun was a captain (and after the wars were ended here, served in Flanders, where he received pay as a major.) Hart was a lieutenant of horse under Sir Thomas Dallison, in Prince Rupert's regiment; Burt was cornet in the same troop, and Shatterel quarter-master; Allen of the Cock-pit was a major, and quarter-master-general at Oxford. I have not heard of one of these players of any note that sided with the other party, but only Swanston, and he profess'd himself a presbyterian, took up the trade of a jeweller, and liv'd in Aldermanbury, within the territory of father Calamy; the rest either lost, or expos'd their lives for their king. When the wars were over, and the royalists totally subdu'd, most of 'em who were left alive gather'd to London, and for a subsistance endeavour'd to revive their old trade privately. They made up one company out of all the scatter'd members of several; and in the winter before the king's murder, 1648, they ventured to act some plays, with as much caution and privacy as could be, at the Cock-pit. They continued undisturbed for three or four days, but at last, as they were presenting the tragedy of the Bloody Brother, (in which Lowin acted Aubrey; Taylor, Rollo; Pollard, the Cook; Burt, Latorch; and I think Hart, Otto,) a party of foot soldiers beset the house, surpriz'd 'em about the middle of the play, and carried 'em away in their habits, not admitting them to shift, to Hatton-house, then a prison, where, having detain'd them some time, they plundered them of their clothes, and Let 'em loose again. Afterwards, in Oliver's time, they used to act privately, three or four miles or more out of town, now here, now there, sometimes in noblemen's houses; in particular, Hollandhouse, at Kensington, where the nobility and gentry who met, (but in no great numbers,) used to make a sum for them, each giving a broad piece, or the like. And Alexander Goffe, the woman-actor at Black-friars, (who had made himself known to persons of quality) used to be the jackall, and give notice of time and place. At Christmas and Bartholomewfair, they used to bribe the officer who commanded the guard at Whitehall, and were thereupon connived at to act for a few days, at the Red Bull; but were sometimes, notwithstanding, disturb'd by soldiers. Some pick'd up a little money by publishing the copies of plays never before printed, but kept up in manuscript; for instance, in the year 1652, Beaumont and Fletcher's Wild-Goose-Chace was printed in folio, for the public use of all the ingenious, as the title page says, and private benefit of John Lowin and Joseph Taylor, servants to his late majesty; and by them dedicated to the honored few lovers of dramatic poesy: wherein they modestly intimate their wants, and that with sufficient cause; for whatever they were before the wars, they were after reduced to a necessitous condition. Lowin, in his latter days, kept an inn, the Three Pigeons, at Brentford, where he died very old, for he was an actor of eminent note in the reign of James I., and his poverty was as great as his age. Taylor died at Richmond, and was there buried. Pollard, who lived single, and had a competent estate, retired to some relations he had in the country, and there ended his life. Perkins and Sumner, of the Cockpit, kept house together at Clerkenwell, and were there buried. These all died some years before the Restoration: what followed after, I need not tell you; you can easily remember." Altogether, we view this Series of Old Plays as a very creditable production. The execution is also deserving of commendation, and is far beyond any thing before attempted for the price. Cobbett's Advice to Young Men-No.8. (Unpublished.) The eighth number of this interesting work, which is on the eve of appearing, contains a vast deal of curious and instructive matter. We have heard it asked, 'how can a man who has been engaged in such a countless number of political brawls for more than a quarter of a century, be capable of conveying advice to those of much younger age?' We answer, that we have nothing to do with the source whence we receive it; it is enough for us to know that the sound precepts given in this little work are worthy the attention of every one. From it the young man may learn to frame his conduct so as to insure a respectable and happy life, while those of a more advanced age may be warned in time, and correct those errors into which they have fallen, ere it be too late. We fear, however, that the homely language of the present number will be found fault with by many; for, in this age of affected refinement, every thing that is not couched in elegant and captivating terms provokes the anger of the fastidious -while writings, notoriously licentious, meet a ready sale. Not that we would by any means say there is a single sentence in this number which would call up a blush upon the cheek of any of our fair readers. May Heaven send them husbands inclined to follow the advice herein given. The appearance of this book, to which we have frequently alluded, reminds us of the excellent maxims of Sir Walter Raleigh, who, in his " Advice to his Son," has conveyed precepts which ought to be engraven on the heart of every young man. Sir Walter was a man of the world,-a gallant soldier,and an accomplished courtier,but he fell a victim to vanity and ambition, and found, when too late, that the end of such things is death. Had he, like the inflexible and unbending Sidney, retired from court, and lived a life, which in his songs and sonnets he professed to love so much, he would have gone down into his grave without one single spot upon his good name; but he preferred the court and its pleasures, and ended his days on a public scaffold! He left, however, behind him, in the book alluded to, a rare treasure, the result of his dear-bought experience. Mr. Cobbett has had his trials; no one will deny that they have been severe, and he has now arrived at an age which admirably qualifies him for the task he has undertaken. The following remarks are well worthy the attention of every young married man. "I never could see the sense of its being a piece of etiquette, a sort of mark of good breeding, to make it a rule that man and wife are not to sit side by side in a mixed company; that if a party walk out, the wife to give her arm to some other than her husband; that if there be any other hand near, his is not to help to a seat or into a carriage. I never could see the sense of this; but I have always seen the nonsense of it plainly enough; it is, in short, amongst many other foolish and mischievous things that we do in aping the manners of those whose riches (frequently ill-gotten) and whose power embolden them to set, with impunity, pernicious examples; and to their examples this nation owes more of its degradation in morals than to any other source. The truth is, that this is a piece of false refinement: it, being interpreted, means, that so free are the parties from a liability to suspi⚫ cion, so innately virtuous and pure are they, that each man can safely trust his wife with another man, and each woman her husband with another woman. But this piece of false refinement, like all others, overshoots its mark; it says too much; for it says that the parties have lewd thoughts in their minds. This is not the fact, with regard to people in general; but it must have been the origin of this set of consummately ridicuLous and contemptible rules. "Now I would advise a young man, especially if he have a pretty wife, not to commit her unnecessarily to the care of any other man; not to be separated from her in this studious and ceremonious manner; and not to be ashamed to prefer her company and conversation to that of any other woman. I never could discover any good-breeding in setting another man, almost expressly, to poke his nose up in the face of my wife, and talk nonsense to her; for, in such cases, nonsense it generally is. It is not a thing of much consequence, to be sure; but when the wife is young, especially, it is not seemly, at any rate, and it cannot possibly lead to any good, though it may not lead to any great evil. And on the other hand, you may be quite sure that, whatever she may seem to think of the matter, she will not like you the better for your attentions of this sort to other women, especially if they be young and handsome; and as this species of fashionable nonsense can do you no good, why gratify your love of talk, or the vanity of any woman, at even the risk of exciting uneasiness in that mind of which it is your most sacred duty to preserve, if you can, the uninterrupted tranquillity." Fine Arts. BRITISH INSTITUTION. (For the Olio.) THE present exhibition contains some splendid specimens of landscape painting, a branch of the arts in which we can rank many a celebrated name in the British School. Some of the weekly periodicals notice slightingly many of the paintings now exhibiting, and utterly pass over others, undeserving of such conduct, which are worthy of praise. Among those thus treated are the following two. Nos. 44 and 45. Compositions, Landscapes.-B. Barker. In our review of the Society of British Artists last year, we mentioned Mr. Barker's works in terms of high commendation, and we see now no cause to retract one iota of it; on the contrary, if we can, we must bestow higher praise. Whether as a composi tion, beauty of colouring and effect they, are excellent. 1 No. 49. Rotterdam.-G. Jones, R.A.. A rich and glowing picture, displaying Mr. Jones's wonted talent in this pleasing style. No. 50. A close wooded scene.-) B Barker. Another of Mr. Barker's beau-. tiful landscapes. No. 52. The Lady in St. Swithin's, Chair.-Sir W. Beechey, R.A. A picture more remarkable for its size, and the |