divine Raphael, and made them British without impairing their superiority. As Sir Joshua added his own experiments in colouring to the tints he reaped from a close attention to the Venetian schools, our students acquire similar skill by marking his productions, in which they are so pre-eminently combined. From him the historical painter may be inspired with taste the portrait painter may be taught breadth and freedom of pencilling, richness of colouring, and brilliancy of effect the poetical painter delicacy, so every enchanting quality which can inhabit works of fancy; even the landscape painter may from his back ground receive no worthless hints, and all artists something which they may convert to their manifest improvement. rous. Northcote's Life of Sir Joshua place his character in the fairest light, and evince him to have been a man, not only of a most liberal and refined taste, with regard to his profession, but universally so of a mind highly cultivating, and of a heart the most noble and geneHis discourses (to be met with only in Malone's Life of Reynolds) are models of eloquence not unworthy the lips of a Cicero, and replete with delicate and beautiful ideas. The philosopher and metaphysician might pause upon them with delight. His definition with respect to the graceful and ungraceful, and as to the impressions produced by it on the mind, bear the stamp of elegance, and of a master hand; while the soundness and impartiality of his criticisms, prove him happily untinctured with the smallest portion of jealousy towards what may be considered a rival art, and evince at once the variety of his genius, the superiority of his mind, and the excellence of his disposition. We will conclude our sincere tribute to his greatness and memory, by quoting the words of Garrick, that though The painter's dead, yet still he charms the eye, While England lives, his fame can never die ! C. I. H. AFFECTION'S OFFERING.* We have been much delighted with the perusal of a work under the above title. This unpretending little volume possesses attractions by far exceeding any that has come under our notice. Among the contributors are numbered the well known names of Styles, Hall, Croly, and Cox. In its pages will be found several tales and miscellaneous papers, all tending to one object, the inculcating of precepts of S. Lawson. morality under the pleasing garb of fiction. The editor has put forth the work as an elegant present for the youth of both sexes, but we feel confident there is much to amuse and instruct those of riper years. From the variety of its contents, we have been somewhat at a loss to determine upon our extract; we, however, subjoin the following portion of an article by the Rev. J. Morris, entitled A SABBATH IN FRANCE. ARRIVING at a considerable town on the continent, in the middle of June, 1829, I was not a little surprised to find the superstitious observances of former times still continued, but with an evident design to revive the interests of Catholicism, and support the declining power of the priests. The sabbath morning was fine, and great preparations were made for the celebration of one of the principal festivals, la fete de Dieu, in commemoration of the Ascension. The French are not remarkable for cleanliness, as is well known: dirt of every description is thrown from the houses into the streets, where it is suffered to accumulate till it becomes exceedingly offensive, being seldom removed more than once in a week. This indecent and unhealthy practice, however, is not peculiar to France; it generally prevails in Catholic countries, as if it were the appropriate emblem of their religion. In Ireland, where French manners are unknown, the same disgusting custom is pursued, to an equal extent with our continental neighbours, On the morning of the day alluded to, la fete de Dieu, carts and scavengers were employed to clean the streets, under the superintendance of an officer of police, who required every housekeeper carefully to sweep the front of his dwelling as he which a religious procession was to pass, directed. The principal streets, through were then lined with white linen suspended from the fronts of the houses, and strewed with leaves of the fleur de lis. Temporary altars were erected at distant intervals, covered with white linen, pots of flowers, large wax candles, and a crucifix. Green boughs were planted behind the altars in form of a crescent; in front a carpet was spread for the priests, who, on their arrival, consecrated the place with holy water, the swinging of empty censors, shedding a profusion of rose leaves, and performing other gesticular ceremonies. The procession commenced in the forenoon, amidst the roar of cannon from the ramparts, and other military demonstrations. The concourse of people was im mense; the lower classes traversing the streets, and those of a higher grade witnessing the fete from their windows. The procession was lined on both sides with a long train of children, walking two abreast with an open mass-book in their hands, the boys wearing dark coats, the girls dressed in white caps and neckerchiefs, and some of them covered with lace veils. Superintendants or teachers attended them, some in black, others in white flannel hoods and dresses, with beads and crucifixes suspended from their sides. The interior was formed of a long train of monks and priests in their respective vestments, alternately singing psalms and being relieved by martial music. In the centre was borne the hoste, under a crimson canopy, supported by a number of ecclesiastics. The whole of the procession was headed by the military, many of whom appeared with arms in the centre, and brought up the rear with a flourish of drums and trumpets. On the approach of the hoste, the people bowed themselves, and continued in a bending posture till it had passed by. For my own part, I was so stupified with amazement, that I neglected to pay the accustomed homage to the hoste, scarcely knowing whether I was in Christendom, or on the plains of India, witnessing one of the fetes of Juggernaut. A police officer awoke me from my reverie, by put ting forth his wand, and calling out,"Oiez votre chapeau." A Frenchman standing near and observing it, shrugged up his shoulders, and laughed at the officiousness of the police. I moved my hat, and walked on. ments, carriers deliver goods from the country, taverns and tea gardens are crowded with visitors, and the theatres conclude the profanations of the day. We are sorry that we cannot afford a larger space for further extracts, and must conclude our remarks upon this clever little tome, which we earnestly recommend to guardians and instructors of the younger classes. RETIREMENT. IN THE MANNER OF THE OLD POETS. Leave to the pale-faced student Let the shaven monke and the hermite Let the maryner for Indies wealthe From worldlie care and worldlie stryfe The heartless citye's noisie life Hath lost its charmes for me. ALPHA. SMOKING.-CIGAR DIVANS. Yet thy true lovers more admire by fur Thy naked beauties-give me a Cigar. BYRON. THERE is a class of persons whose gross habit of body will not allow them to indulge in that luxury of luxuries-smoking, and who, therefore, rail against tobacco with all the virulence of James the First. Such people would endeavour to persuade you that smoking is only fit for those who frequent night-cellars aud low ale-houses, and that this delightful recreation should be left to coal-heavers and fish-women. One, on whose opinion and counsel we are generally inclined to rely, inveighs against smoking, and considers it an incentive to drinking. To this we would reply, that it does not necessarily follow that those who smoke are addicted to that hateful vice, for, to our knowledge, one of the most inveterate smokers, who puffed away " from night till morn-from morn till dewy eve," never took any liquid stronger than tea or coffee, or the pure water of a neighbouring spring. The people generally, all perhaps but the grossly ignorant, evidently regarded the ceremony as a mere farce, or sort of religious entertainment, and would have laughed the priests out of countenance, had it not been for the presence of the military, which formed by far the most imposing part of the spectacle. There was no zeal, no fervour, no enthusiasm of any kind; nothing could be more formal and monotonous. Nearly all the figures in the scene exhibited a character, phrenological and physiological, of impenetrable dulness and stupidity, of heads without brains, and countenances without the slightest degree of animation. Meanwhile the streets were full of tumultuous noise, laughing, talking, trifling, till the procession moved on to the great church, where mass was performed, and hundreds rushed for admission. This done, the rest of the day is devoted to gaiety and dissipation, and the sabbath becomes the vainest part of the week. Trade is carried on, with windows and doors partially closed, mechanics follow their employ How valuable are the properties of this divine plant! The unsophisticated tar defies sickness and death while his "backey-box" holds out. The soldier, when enveloped in its fragrant cloud, sinks into a profound calm after the fatigues of a forced march, dreams of his dear England, and finds in it a grateful substitute for his long relinquished beef-steak. The man of business, while discussing a real Havannah, ceases to dwell on the vexations and crosses of the day, for it lulls him into tranquillity, and sets aright his shattered nerves. Although we shall not attempt to prove that tobacco possesses the wonderful properties assigned to it by Bobadil, yet we have no hesitation in asserting that in its purity it is well calculated to counteract the effects of the bad air and fogs of large cities. Its efficacy in preventing infection is too well known to need another word in praise of its qualities. " Having said thus much, it will be hardly necessary to add that we approve of those establishments y'clep'd" Cigar Divans." Several of these places have been opened within these three or four years, the oldest of which is Gliddon's. Without, however, speaking disparagingly of this last mentioned" Divan,' we must be allowed to say that the one lately opened in the Strand, upon the premises formerly occupied by Mr.Ackermann, surpasses all the others in elegance and splendour. Here is a noble room, sixty feet in length, fitted up in the most tasty manner, and the walls adorned with paintings of oriental subjects. Besides the enjoyment of a fine cigar, and a cup of pure coffee, there is an abundance of newspapers and periodicals in the English, French, German, and Dutch languages, to feed the mental palate of the visitor. The company is select and gentlemanly, and affords a striking contrast to the disgusting and brutalizing scenes witnessed in many of our London taverns. We heartily wish the proprietor of this splendid establishment success; and, while we live, will always be the foremost to laud a recreation which such as Raleigh, Byron, Hobbes, and many others of note and fame, did not despise. STANZAS. In spring when flowers are budding, And the streams run clear and free; When the finny tribe is advancing 'Mid their haunts-Remember me. When autumn's fruits grow mellow, Sweets are gather'd by the bee, And the harvest ripe and yellow Proudly waves-Remember me. When the wintry fires glow, And the hoarfrost's on the lea, When the fie.ds are clad in snow, My friends!-Remember me. A. G. THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.-PART II. THE first portion of this volume we considered the most acceptable of all that had then been issued of the Library of Entertaining Knowledge; and can only say the concluding part is not at all inferior to its predecessor. Together, they form a volume replete with anecdotes of illustrious persons who have surmounted almost insuperable difficulties by praiseworthy perseverance. There is so much that is highly interesting in these pages, that we hardly know where to dip; the following extract presents attractions of no ordinary kind. Difficulties occasioned by Blindness surmounted. "We read of a sculptor who became blind at twenty years of age, and yet ten years afterwards made a statue of Pope Urban VIII. in clay, and another of Cosmo II. of Florence, of marble. Another blind sculptor is mentioned by Roger de Piles, in one of his works on painting; he executed a marble statue of our Charles I. with great taste and accuracy. Nor ought we to be surprised at this dexterity, if we may believe what is told us of a young French lady, who lost her sight in her second year, and of whose marvellous accomplishments we have an account in the Annual Register for 1762. This lady is said, notwithstanding her blindness, to have been an excellent player at cards, a ready and elegant writer, and even to have been able to read written characters. On sitting down to play at cards, she first went over the pack, marking every one of the fifty-two cards by so slight an indentation, as scarcely to be perceptible to any one else on the closest inspection, but which, nevertheless, she herself, by the delicacy of her touch, instantly recognised. She then proceeded without difficulty, only requiring, of course, that every card should be named as it was played. In writing she used a sharp and hard-pointed pencil, which marked the paper so as to enable her to read what she had written with her finger-ends. All this, it must be confessed, seems very like a fiction; but it is, perhaps, scarcely so wonderful as what is told of an English lady, who was examined by several eminent physicians, and among others by Sir Hans Sloane. She had been deprived by disease, not only of her sight but of her powers of speech and hearing, so that there remained only the organs of touch, taste, and smell, by which she could hold communication with others. Deaf, dumb, and blind as she was, however, she yet in course of time learned to converse with her friends by means of an alphabet made by their hands or fingers pressed in different ways upon her's. She very soon also acquired the power of writing with great neatness and exactness, and used to sit up in bed, we are told, at any hour of the night, either to write or to work, when she felt herself indisposed to sleep. We shall feel what an invaluable possession the knowledge of writing must have been to this individual, when we reflect, that on first being reduced to the state of deplorable helplessness which she afterwards found admitted of so many alleviations, nothing but the power she still retained of scrawling a few words, which yet she could not discern, could have enabled her at all to communicate her wishes or feelings to those around her. But for this power it would seem that she must have been for ever shut out from even the most imperfect intercourse with her species; for it was through it alone that she could intimate to them the meaning she wished to be assigned to each of the different palpable signs which constituted her alphabet. With this instrument of communication, the arrangement would be easily effected; it would otherwise have been impracticable. We have abundant reason to set a high value on the art of writing, but to this person it was in valuable. To us it is the most useful of all the arts; to her it was the means of restoration to life from a state of exclusion, almost as complete as the grave. "But perhaps the most singular instance on record of a blind person triumphing over those difficulties of his situation, which are apparently most insuperable, is afforded in John Metcalf, or, as he was commonly called, Blind Jack, a well-known character, who died only a few years ago. This person was a native of Manchester or the neighbourhood, and Mr. Bew has given an account of him. After telling us that he became blind at a very early age, so as to be entirely ignorant of light and its various effects, the narrative proceeds as follows: This man passed the younger part of his life as a waggoner, and occasionally as a guide in intricate roads during the night, or when the tracks were covered with snow. Strange as this may appear, to those who can see, the employment he has since undertaken is still more extraordinary; it is one of the last to which we could suppose a blind man would ever turn his attention. His present occupation is that of projector and surveyor of highways in difficult and mountainous parts. With the assistance only of a long staff, I have several times met this man traversing the roads, ascending precipices, exploring valleys, and investigating their several extents, forms, and situations, so as to answer bis designs in the best manThe plans which he designs, and the estimates he makes, are done in a method peculiar to himself, and which he ner. cannot well convey the meaning of to others. His abilities in this respect are nevertheless so great, that he finds constant employment. Most of the roads over the Peak in Derbyshire have been altered by his directions, particularly those in the vicinity of Buxton; and he is at this time constructing a new one betwixt Wilmslow and Congleton, with a view to open a communication to the great London road, without being obliged to pass over the mountains." Mr. Bew adds in a note, Since this paper was written, and had the honour of being delivered to the Society, I have met this blind projector of the roads, who was alone as usual, and amongst other conversation, I made some enquiries concerning this new road. It was really astonishing to hear with what accuracy he described the courses and the nature of the different soils through which it was conducted. Having mentioned to him a boggy piece of ground it passed through, he observed, that that was the only place he had doubts concerning; and that he was apprehensive they had, contrary to his directions, been too sparing of their materials.'"*' THE FOUR FUGITIVES. Our story now returns to Robert Selworth. The guess of the cavalier, that his sleep would last two hours, was very near the truth; in about three fourths of that time he became slowly conscious of existence; and noises having aroused him somewhat before the full power of the powder had been exhausted, his ideas were for several minutes wild and unconnected. Strange visions floated before him; but, as his senses slowly recovered their pristine excellence, and burst from the bonds of uneasy sleep, he surveyed with astonishment the scene around him. His position was, as we have seen, wholly different from that in which he had first slumbered; the door leading to the inner chamber was open, and the sound of several hoarse voices within petrified him with fear, not for himself but Roselle, while a man with a drawn sword, paraded before the door leading to the cliff, apparently for the purpose of preventing the egress of any one from the hut. Selworth was far from having recovered from the stupifying effects of the drug; *Memoirs of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester, vol. 1. and, instead of springing from his recumbent position and disarming the centinel, as with his usual promptitude he would have done, he lay partly concealed by the old arm-chair, peering from under the cloak with which Richard had covered him, with sleepy surprise and consternation. A loud shout from the inner chamber did much towards awakening him, and the appearance of a noble looking man, of middle age, who rushed from it, holding in his hand a bracelet which had the preceding evening derived beauty from clasp ing the wrist of Roselle, also contributed much to arouse his faculties. "She has been here! She has been here!" distractedly exclaimed this personage, gazing on the bracelet, "follow me, friends, she cannot be far away." He rushed from the hut, and two or three attendants, who had likewise issued from the inner chamber, and the man who had guarded the door, quickly vanished after their leader. Their disappearance seemed the signal for Selworth's becoming perfectly sensible; he now rose, and pressing his burning forehead, he shouted,"Do I dream?" so loudly, that it is utterly impossible to surmise why they who had just left did not hear the exclamation. "Am I awake?" pursued the wretched lover, as he burst into the room in which his mistress had reposed; and occular demonstration fatally convinced him she had disappeared. "Roselle Roselle! speak and save me from distraction!" No voice responded to his anguished cry, and he cast himself on the ground in utter despair. A very few minutes, however, beheld him rise from the ground to all appear ance an altered man. The soldiers of Cromwell were taught to avoid all tumultuous feelings; emotions of all kinds, save fanatical revenge on their enemies, were forbidden them; and all human passions being condensed to one object had produced a result precisely similar to that which their politic leader and tutor had expected. A mistaken view of the object and points in dispute had originally induced Robert Selworth's father to join the Parliament in the Civil Wars, and having once espoused the cause of "Liberty," he devoted his whole energies to it, and educated his only child in the fiercest republican sentiments. Robert Selworth, like many distinguished characters of the same era, was a man naturally of strong and powerful passions; intrusted to Revolutionary preceptors, he was early taught to govern his emotions according to the doctrine of Cromwell, and only allow free scope to their ardour in fanatical bigotry and revenge against the enemies of the Commonwealth. The former, his good sense taught him to despise; the latter, bred in a camp, appeared more pleasing to his eyes, and, in the course of time, he gave a freer scope and definition of it to himself, and added revenge against private enemies to revenge against the supporters of what Cromwell's partizans termed tyranny."-Thus, in this anguished moment, education came to his aid, and ideas of revenge-deep revenge, probably saved him, unused as he was to disappointment, from distraction. 66 "Idiot! fool that I am! Was it not evident the inhabitants of this place were cavaliers? And what could I expect from royalty but deception and treachery? I have slumbered on my post, and they have profited by my folly; but let them beware-Robert Selworth is neither child or churchman, calmly to receive an injury." Let it not be supposed that he stood unoccupied while thus giving vent to his feelings,-far from it; he uttered the sentences coolly, and with intervals between, during which time he employed himself in charging his pistols, and having replaced them in his belt, he drew his sword, and rushed from the hovel. He surveyed the quiet waters which spread unruffled before him, as though mocking his impatience, and the sails of the smuggler's vessel speedily caught his eye; he advanced to the cliff, and the sound of voices below excited his attention; he leant over the dizzy height, and the form of his beloved Roselle met his eager gaze, as did likewise those of Clifford and his companion. They were watching anxiously a boat which rapidly neared the shore, and which was rowed by a man whom Selworth recognized as being one of those he had seen in the cottage. He rushed along the edge of the cliff, and surveyed it with the keen accustomed eye of a soldier, endeavouring to discover some path by means of which he might descend to the beach; nor was it long ere the jutting craig attracted his attention; he pushed it slightly, and it moved, he forced it rudely from its position, and the carefully concealed path became visible. Down he sprang, and with dexterous, yet speedy step, he sought the spot where stood his Roselle; the boat now touched the shore, and Hans Molken having nodded assent to the inquiring looks of Clifford, as to the success of his errand, placed a board from the shore to the boat, and with great astonishment did the Colonel behold Lady Roselle step on it, not unwillingly but with joy. |