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Calcutta, and landed there, on the 18th June, 1812. After encountering unexpected difficulties, they at length arrived at Serampore.

"The third day after we came here, there was a celebration of the worship of Juggernaut. The immense multitude of natives assembled on the occasion, and the noise they made, answered to the account Buchanan gave.

"The idol was set on the top of a stone building. He is only a lump of wood, his face painted, with large black eyes, and a large red mouth. He was taken from his temple, and water poured upon him to bathe hi m. This is introductory to a more solemn act of worship."

The ultimate point of their destination being the Burman Empire, we shall pass over certain circumstances that occurred, and place them safely on the territories of His Majesty of the golden foot.

"The seasons are regular, extreme cold is unknown, and the intense heat which precedes the rainy season is of short duration. A flat, marshy delta extends beyond the bounds of the Irrawaddy. Beyond this are pleasing hills, picturesque valleys and majestic mountains. The fertile soil of the southern provinces yields crops of rice, equal to those of the finest districts of Bengal. Rangoon is the principal sea-port of the Burman empire. It is situated 30 miles from the sea on the Rangoon river, one of the outlets of the Irrawaddy. The river is here six hundred yards wide, the water, in general, deep, from shore to shore, and cur rent moderate. Ships of 800 or 900 tons could come up to the wharfs."

Here, then, our travellers abode. Having immediately commenced the study of the Burman language, which presents peculiar difficulties to the learner, an able and intelligent man was selected as a teacher. They studied diligently and successfully.

"Dec. 11.—To-day, for the first time, I have visited the wife of the Viceroy. I was introduced to her by a French lady, who has frequently visited her. Her highness made her appearance, dressed richly in the Burman fashion, with a long silver pipe in her mouth, smoking. At her appearance, all the other wives took their seats at a respectful distance, and sat in a crouching posture, without speaking. She received me very politely, took me by the hand, seated me upon a mat, and one of her women brought me a bunch of flowers, of which she took several, and ornamented my cap. When the Viceroy came in, I really trembled; for I never before beheld such a savage-looking creature. He, however, spoke to me very condescendingly, and asked me if I would drink some rum or wine. When I arose to go, her highness again took me by the hand, told me she was happy to see me, when I made my salaam and departed."

The wretched state of the country, the insecurity and discomfort that prevailed, did not prevent their pursuit of knowledge, or their endeavours to instruct and improve the natives. It is impossible, in our limited space, however, to offer even a sketch of the difficulties encountered, and we shall, therefore, pass over the very interesting narrative, until it brings us to the period of the arrival of the English as foes of the Burmese government.

May 15tb, 1824. "We did not apprehend, until last Monday, that war was declared against the Burmans. The most credible information which we could obtain, assured us, that all grievances were amicably settled. But, on Monday last, information came, that a number of ships were at the mouth of the river. Government immediately ordered every person in Rangoon who wore a hat, to be taken prisoner, which was accordingly done. In the course of the succeeding night we were chained, and put in close confinement, under armed keepers. In the morning, the fleet was in sight of the town, and our keepers were ordered to massacre us the moment the first shot was fired, but, when the firing commenced they were panic struck,

and slunk away into one corner of the prison, breathless and speechless. In a few moments after, when we expected the British troops to release us, about fifty Burmans rushed into the prison, drew us out, and stripped us of every thing: our naked arms were drawn behind us, and corded as tight as the strength of one man would permit, and we were almost literally carried through the streets to the seat of judgment, and were made to sit with our bodies bending forward, for the convenience of the executioner, who was ordered that moment to behead us. None of us understood the order but Mr. H. He requested the executioner to desist for a moment, and petitioned the Yahwoon to send him on board the frigate, and promised to use his influence to prevent any further firing upon the town. The Linguists seconded the proposal, and pleaded that we might be reprieved for a few moments."

The narrative now becomes exceedingly powerful, and evidently illustrates the assertion, that there is no romance equal to the romance of real life. Nothing but the most extraordinary enthusiasm could have supported the subjects of our narrative under the diabolical tyranny from which they suffered.

"On the 8th of June, just as we were preparing for dinner, in rushed an officer holding a black book, with a dozen Burmans, accompanied by one whom we knew to be an executioner. Where is the teacher? was the first enquiry. Mr. Judson presented himself, he was instantly seized by the executioner, who bound him with cords, and dragged him away to prison."

"Next morning I sent a messenger to ascertain his situation, and give him food if still living. He soon returned, with the intelligence that Mr. Judson and all the white foreigners were confined in the death prison, with iron fetters and fastened to a long pole to prevent their moving."

The minuteness and variety of the details throw a peculiar interest over the whole narrative, but we have not room to extract. They at length receive deliverance from our brave and gallant soldiers.

"It was on a cool moonlight evening, in the month of March, that, with hearts filled with gratitude to God, and overflowing with joy at our prospects, we passed down the Irrawaddy, surrounded by six or eight golden boats, and accompanied by all we had on earth. We now, for the first time, for more than a year and it half, felt that we were free, and no longer subject to the oppressive yoke of the Burmese. And with what sensations of delight, on the next morning, did I behold the masts of the steam boat, the sure presence of being within the bounds of civilized lifel We received an invitation from Sir Archibald Campbell, to come immediately to his quarters, where we were the next morning introduced, and received with the greatest kindness by the General, who took us to his own table, and treated us with the kindness of a father."

Reader! For what were all these sufferings endured? Neither for fame, nor honour, nor applause, nor wealth, but wouldst thou really be informed, read the Memoir of Mrs. Ann Judson, and not only will it please thee, by its descriptions, but it will instruct and improve thee by its information.



When sickness hovers round thy bed,

And pales thy cheek and dim's thine eye,
When anxious friends in tears are led,

Breathless, to watch thy parting sigh—
Thou'lt find, upon these leaves impressed,

A balm for every fear and sorrow—
Truths that will soothe thy trembling breast,

And fit thee for a Dew life's glorious morrow.

Glasgow Reminiscences,
St. Enoch's Church.

The following advertisement will show that it was not quite so mighty a matter to build a Kirk during the last century, as in the present.

As The Magistrates and Tows Council have resolved to contract for the building of a Church, in the south end of St. Enoch Square, capable of containing one thousand sitters. The Church to be of plain substantial workmanship, without ornaments, except upon the north front;—to have a foundation laid for a steeple, and carried up to the height of the Church, and the whole expense not to exceed Fifteen Hundred Pounds sterling, exclusive of the price of the ground and levelling the same. They therefore request of such persons, as chuse to give in plans, to lodge the same in the Council Chambers, betwixt this time and the 15th December next, in order that the Committee appointed by the Council may inspect the same, and require estimates of such plans as may be approved of.

Council Chambers, Glasgow, 30th Nov. 1779.


*' Give none offence, neither tn the Jews, nor to the Gentiles, nor to the Church

of God."—1 Corinthians, x. 32.

To the Editor of The Day. Sir,—The truly pious portion of our christian community ought to feel deeply interested in the welfare of " The Day," from the praiseworth and zealous manner in which its pages espouse the suppression of those "annoyances," that are so frequently to be met with, even in the most sacred of edifices—the church, and, that, too, at a time when the most solemn service, in which sinful men can engage—divine worship, is, being dispensed. "O, ye sons of men, how long will ye turn my glory Into shame? how long will ye love vanity?" Psalms, Iv. 2.

It may appear somewhat strange, that, notwithstanding the numerous list of "annoyances" which have already been discussed, there should yet be another, and a glaring one, too, left me, to bring under your notice; it is so unlike those enumerated, that It applies, alone, to the male portion of the audience, the other sex being, in this instance, justified—nay, commanded by scripture to act—as is their invariable practice.

Without farther preface, then, I allude to the unsanctimonlous custom, which a number of people have, of entering the church with their hats on, and, which, are, in many instances, retained at head quarters, until the minister makes his appearance, on whose debut, in the pulpit, a scene oftentimes ensues, as would impress a foreigner with the idea of a general huzza! On the conclusion of the service, again, the "blessing" is scarcely pronounced, when a general rush to the hats is made, and, which, are, instantly doffed on the head, without any respect being had to the place of worship. Surely, the most becoming mode, in regard to the subject now described upon, is, to take off the hat at the threshold of the door, in entering, and to put it on at the threshold of the door, in withdrawing. That such offenders will " cease to do evil, and learn to do well," is the sincere wish of, Sir, your most obedient, N. S.

George Street, 15/A March, 1832.


To the Editor of The Dat. Sir,—The tone of your Saturday's number is in unison with the feelings of many of my friends, and, to assure you of my desire to serve the important ends which you appear to have in view, I send you the sketch of a sermon, preached last Sunday afternoon, in St. George?, from Exodus, xx. 14, by the present incumbent. Aware, as I am of the delicacy that ought to characterize such a communication, I deem it right to state; first, That this notice is due to the clergyman for the happy manner in which he treated a subject, which the false taste of the present period, has made one of peculiar difficulty; and secondly, for the purpose of recommending to a number of gentlemen, who usually are seen at the end of their pews pretty regularly, but who absconded on this occasion, to be less apprehensive for the future.—Your obedient servant, Seraphixa. Glasgow, Thursday Evening.

This is a portion of scripture, which, however important it may appear, is encompassed with difficulties so apparent, that were a sense of duty not to predominate, it embraces one of those subjects that a clergyman would be inclined to avoid. When, however, we attempt to trace the source from whence these difficulties arise, an impartial survey will conduct us to the corruption which springs from our fallen nature and our polluted hearts. The great apostle of the Gentiles deemed it no derogation to his office to ex

press, in the strongest language, his detestation of crime and of pollution, and gave the strength of his arguments and the power of his irresistible eloquence to the preaching of the whole—the unmutilated law. We must do our duty in despite of the fashion or the temper of the times, and we must put down false declarations upon the subject by the assertion, "all Scripture is given by inspiration of God."

First, This commandment prohibits all unfaithfulness to the marriage covenant. This is so apparent, that its force and truth will generally be conceded. Yet men may be found, who, whilst they declare "there is no God," have also denounced this his commandment, whilst others, whatever might be their professions, have by their acts equally disclosed their unbelief. As the christian knows the delight of walking in God's law, so his obedience to this is productive of peace, whilst even in the eye of the world, the violators of this commandment is condemned. Where irreligious sentiments are known to obtain, christians should never form those important connections which have so much influence en the peace and happiness of life.

Second, This commandment prohibits, in the case of unmarried persons, all illicit attachments and connections. Reason itself enforces this moral lesson—a crime so extensive in its dreadful effects ought to be especially guarded against, the desolation is too palpable which it spreads around in the hearts of friends snd relatives, whilst the unfortunate offspring bear about with them the reproach of their parents' guilt. In a humble, but houest profession, has the parent toiled, less for his own than for his daughter's sake—he has seen her grow up in innocence and youth, her smile has cheered his labours, and, with his country's honest pride, he declares that his girl can now read her bible. But poverty still presses. An advantageous situation occurs in the neighbouring town, with tears she leaves her lowly home, and the good old man, with his parting blessing, presents to her a gift more precious than rubies in his eyes, and in her own, even the word of God, and night and morn he commends, and she promises to per. use it, and the hope is ever present that they shall ere long meet in peace; think, oh think, on the villany of him, who by wiles and deceit, dark as ever devised by the father of lies, by promises and by professions, and by oaths, for a sinful indulgence, blasts the hopes of the good old man, consigns his daughter to infamy, and loses his own soul! Whilst the effect of such conduct does not rest here, companions are depraved by the example, and an insult offered to the community.

Third, This commandment requires an inward regard to holiness and duty. Not only are notorious offences forbidden, but all unclean thoughts, words and actions. By the purity of our mind we mayjudge of our state—as a man thinks so will he act. Let us seek by watchfulness and prayer, to fulfil this command in all its requirements.

Fourth, It enjoins the strictest delicacy in our conversation, and this in its good old English meaning. How lamentable to think that genius should at times have arrayed itself in the ranks of vice, that the lyre which might have been strung to noblest themes, has been desecrated to themes of vice and of pollution, nor has the witching power of music denied her aid, or refused her melody to prolong the lay which impurity alone had suggested. But whatever be the verdict of the few, who only want the ability to be as conspicuously guilty as the Poet of Licentiousness, a time will come when judgment shall be passed, when they shall stand before the Judge of All, and if offence has been offered to one, even the least of the Saviour's flock, it shall be visited with the fiery indignation, as if offered to himself.

First Reflection.—The deep depravity of human nature, which requires so many safeguards.

Second.—The necessity of renewing grace, that we may be inclined to obedience.

The Four Finest Pictures In Rome The four most celebrated pictures in Rome are, Raffaele's Transfiguration, Potter- ra's Descent from the Cross, Domenichino's St. Jerome, and Andrea Sacchi's St. Romualdo.


"the Assembly," if possible, on Monday.

*'Hours of Leisure.—No. IV." will appear in our next Saturday's number.

"Lines on Byron's First Love," is put into the hands of our Poetical critic.

If^T All communications for the Editor of " Tbk Dat" are requested to be left with the Publisher, Mr. John Finlay, No. 9, Miller Street.

Published, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Finlay, at No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by John Wylie, 97, Argyle Street; David Robertson, and W. R. M'phun, Glasgow , Thomas Stevenson, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh: DaVid Dick, and A. Gardner, Booksellers, Paisley: A. Luz, Greenock,- and J. Glass, Bookseller, Jtothsay.







(From tltc Note-book of an Artist.)

Perhaps no class of men derive so much advantage from letters of introduction as the fraternity to which I belong; and, as these advantages may be gleaned more or less, in almost every grade of society except the lowest,'it ought to be a matter of consideration with all dependents on the palet, to have their letters of as miscellaneous a character as possible. For myself, I was particularly attentive as to this matter, so much so, that I have been dining in Blythwood Square on turtle, turkey poute and roast venison, with the accompaniment of hock or champaigne, and, the same evening, supping in a back land in the Trongate, with a frank laughter-loving, motled-faced butcher and his jolly double-chinned helpmate, on roinched collops, black puddings and whisky toddy, and, I will honestly admit, that I have found greater benefit in my profession from the vulgar straight-forward wish-to-befriendly sort of conduct of the latter, who would often banter his neighbours and their wives into a sitting, than from my fashionable friend at the west end, who would too often consider, that, by having my feet under his mahogany for an afternoon, he had sufficiently honoured the draft which I held on his good offices. It must, however, be acknowledged, that a letter of introduction is, in the present age, generally considered to mean little more than a passport to the table of the person to whom it is addressed, at some one of the stated feeding hours of the day, and these hours are chiefly regulated by the circumstances, temper and profession of the individual. For instance, if any of my readers have such a letter to a clergyman, or a person connected with missionary or temperance societies, I would advise him not to expect anything more than an invitation to breakfast, and, really, an invitation of this kind, particularly if it should be given in winter, must appear to every reflecting mind rather as an infliction than an act of courtesy; but, as such an act, the unfortunate letter-carrier is bound to receive it. If the letter happens to be addressed to a manufacturer, a merchant, a lawyer, or a substantial housekeeping bachelor, the hope of an invite to "pot luck" may be very rationally entertained. If, to a family-man, with more than one daughter, a card to tea is sure to be the result, when the bearer will find (provided he happens to be a single man) a whole circle of elegant, fascinating creatures, with their intelligent mamas, awaiting his arrival. It was to a party of this kind that I made my first bow in Glasgow, and though I could not consider those present entitled to rank first in the list of fashionables, yet the affair, so far as unceasing loquacity among the ladies was concerned, went off with considerable eclat. The eldest daughter of our host presided at the tea-table, that is to say, she poured out the fragrant beverage, and kept a sharp look out on the ladies and gentlemen to whom the various cups were appropriated. This is reckoned a most important duty, which no young lady with any pretensions to good breeding will ever neglect.

The formalities being gone through, and the kind, considerate mistress of the ceremonies having, in the usual set phrases of tea-table politeness, pressed the ladies and gentlemen to take out their

spoons for "another cup—half cup, or quarter," the tea-things were removed, and the buzz of suppressed conversation gradually spread round the room, and waxed louder and louder as the parties engaged found themselves getting more at their ease with each other. As to myself, I had got into an argument with a has bleu, on the singularity of the Edinburgh accent, which, she contended, was more decidedly vulgar than even that of Paisley; as, for the people of Glasgow, she denied, most strongly, that they had any accent at all, but spoke the English language so plain and distinct, that no person, by hearing them could tell, with certainty, what part of the country they came from; this was such a novel idea to me, that I could not help smiling, at what I supposed to be intended for waggery, on the part of my fair opponent, who, seeing my incredulity, appealed to a gentleman near us, who, with all imaginable gravity, supported what she had advanced, and, by way of clinching the argument, in her favour, instanced the public cries of the two cities; those of Edinburgh, he said, were perfectly unintelligible to a stranger, while, on the contrary, the cries of Glasgow were plain and distinct to all; for example, said he, raising his voice to a triumphant pitch, in Edinburgh, you will hear them cryingpee-ree-eer-ee-o-rie, now, said he, addressing himself to me, is there B person here, besides you and I, could tell what was intended to be sold by such sounds; "peers and oranges," cried a lovely blue-eyed romp, who, instantly, as if alarmed at hearing her own voice, drew back, giggling and blushing, and hid her face behind her elder sister, who gently chid her for being so forward. Nay, ladies, continued the champion of the has bleu, it is not "peers and oranges" that are meant by pee-ree-eer-ee-o-rie, but neither more nor less, than good mealy potatoes ; this was followed by a general titter, at the expense of the Athenians, from all the ladies within hearing, and pee-ree-eer-ee-o-rie, was trilled out in rotation, by the fair mimics around me, till those at a distance caught the sound, and an explanation being called for and given. It was decided by all, that I was quite in the wrong—no real Glasgow person having any thing about his language, that could be considered as a peculiar accent; finding myself opposed to so overwhelming a majority, I made an entry in my note book, of the fact, and determined, in future, not to trust my ears with the direction of my judgment, on the subject. After this important matter was disposed of, an old lady proposed that the two daughters of our host should favour the company with a duet; I was rather surprised at the request, as one of the girls had a bar, and the other a snivel, and how these would harmonise, I was at a loss to know. I was, however, told that the ladies were " terrible fine singers," and a number of the gentlemen, who appeared to be no strangers to the vocal powers of the fair ones, exerted their eloquence in urging them to commence. To these importunities, papa and mama added their parental injunctions; "a slight cold," "hoarseness," "head-ache," "inability," were all severally pleaded, according to the usual form, but not being sustained by the company, after a good deal of ill affected reluctance,

To please papa, and eke each gentleman,

The angels blew their noses and began.

As I had been so much at fault in the opinion I hazarded respecting the accent of Glasgow people, I will not venture a remark on this first specimen I had heard of their singing.

The same old lady, who had been instrumental in bringing forward the talents of the ladies, to the notice and applause of the company, now proposed that " our Geordie," as she called a tall awkward looking figure, who sat with his hands a la muff, in the recess of his trowsers, should amuse the company with a piece of recitation. "Our Geordie," after a few excuses, lurched forward towards a vacant space in the room, and spreading forth a pair of hands like a brace of fire-shovels, commenced to give " Mary the Maid of the Inn." He floundered, however, in the second verse, and the old lady, who seemed to take a maternal charge of him, insisted on his giving, in place of it, "a bit" of a speech, which, it seems, he had prepared for delivery at the Andersonian Soirde. "Our Geordie" again addressed himself to enact the part of the orator, and the old lady turned to me and observed, that Geordie was "a perfyte genius—besides a great chemist." Silence being obtained, the " perfyte genius" thus commenced.—" The discovery which I have the honour to lay before this learned and illustrious body, was made, as all great discoveries have been made, by accident. I happened, one morning, to be perambulating the banks of the Monkland canal, when I observed a singular circuitous motion in the water. I stopped to examine, and found it proceeded from a fish ; I also discovered several other fishes performing the same rotatory motion, and it instantly struck me that a phenomenon so very curious, must arise, from some hidden cause. I therefore, with much trouble, possessed myself of several of the rotatory fish, who, be it observed, were all performing the circular movements on the top of the water, and I hastened home in order to examine, more at leisure, the cause that had produced so wonderful an effect. On opening the fish I found in every one of them a small transparent azure coloured bag, of very close and amazingly fine texture, which seemed to me to contain a gas, so amazingly powerful, as to have raised the fish from its natural station in the water, and kept it, evidently against its will, at the top. I was the more convinced of the truth of my discovery ; for, by putting some of the little bags which I had not punctured, in a basin of water, I found them float on the top of the water, while the fish from which I had taken them, instantly sunk to the bottom." Our orator was here interrupted by the old lady, exclaiming, "tuts man, Geordie, that's the fishes' bleather, the fish could na soom the length o' its tae if it were na for that." A loud laugh followed the old lady's remark, and "our Geordie," after having recourse to his snuff-box and handkerchief, gave up his discovery, and retired in confusion to his seat.

The toddy bowl was at length introduced, and our hospitable landlord assumed the wooden sceptre; the glasses circulated with effective rapidity, while toast, gong and recitation, came spontaneously forth from the different quarters of the room. In the intervals, between the display of melody and eloquence, the gossip of the ladies became amusingly loud, while the disjointed snatches of their conversation, as they fell upon the ear, produced an effect sufficiently absurd; it is scarcely possible to give even a faint idea of the confused tittle-tattle in which the terms" marriage, silk gown, nice man, pink saucers, new boa, fine girl, coral and bells, splendid coffin, dress cap, Prussian bracelets, pious woman, box ticket, muff and tippet, steam boat, venison, haberdashery, Dr. Chalmers, tooth-powder, baby-linen, strawberry jam, handsome sideboard and a thousand others, fell in ridiculous disorder on the ear. Tired with listening to the noisy fragments of a conversation which I could not understand, I drew towards a little coterie of intelligent

matrons who seemed to have formed a conversational party in a recess where the annoyance was not so great; here I had the gossip of the evening more in detail, which was proceeding thus, as I came within earshot.—" O, mem! speaking about butter, did ye ye hear what happened to me in the butter market the ither day?" "No, mem, dear me what happened?" "I'll tell ye that, mem—it was just the other night I was thinking to mysel, and, thinks I to mysel, in these hard times, if I could get a bargain o' some butter, although it was a wee auld tasted, or moatie, it might do weel enough for servants, as they might pick the moats out o't at night when they were na thrang; so I gaes awa' to the Bazaar next day, and I asked a woman if she had ony dirty butter for servants, and she answered, in a gay thiveless like way, and I goes away tae twa or three, asking if they had ony dirty butter for servants, and I was never dreaming o' ony thing wrang, but, when I looks round* there's a great band o' idle like hizzies wi' their baskets and they a' began tae abuse me, and I says tae them, quo' I, ye idle like women, quo' I, is that the way to speak tae ane that might be your mistress— so I turns and comes awa, and the hale tot followed me down the Candleriggs crying, ' dirty butter, dirty butter.' I declare I never was sae muckle affronted in the hail course o' my life." "Ah I Mrs. Petticraw, nae wonder ye was affronted—servants hae gane aff at the nail a'thegither now: I'll tell ye how I was served the ither day. Our gudeman's gay and fond o' a sheep's head, ye see, mem, and I took yen o' the lassies wi' me tae the market, tae buy a sheep's head, and twa three odds and ends that I wanted, and when I cam back, there's some ladies waiting for me in the parlour, and I gaes awa ben tae gae the ladies a dram—ladies look for something o' that kind when they come into a house, ye ken mem—weel, when the ladies gaed awa, I gead ben tae the kitchen, tae see how the lass was cumin on wi the head, weel, what do ye think she's doin mem? she has a skewer in her hand, and she's picking the een out o' the sheep's bead —dear me, quo I, lassie, quo I, are ye picking the een out o' the bease head." "O, quo she, mistress, I didna ken they were for eating." "Didna ken they were for eating, quo I !!! the very best bit in a' the beast, now, Mrs. Petticraw, could ony levin flesh endure the like o' that." Mrs. Petticraw was about to reply, when silence was called from the chair, and it was announced that Mr. Momus M'Phun was going to favour the company with an imitation of his "Grany." Mr. Momus was the wag of the company ; for, be it known unto thee, gentle reader, that no "real convivial" party can take place in Glasgow, unless there is either a " wag" or a " wild devil" present. Mr. Momus M'Phun commenced his exhibition by dressing his hand with the assistance of his handkercheif and a burned cork, so as to appear as the face of a little old woman, and the resemblance, it must be confessed, was ludicrously like, he then proceeded to hold a coloquy with it. Mimicing with considerable effect, the toothless garrulity of age, his imitation called forth quite a tempest of applause, and, when the uproarious mirth which he excited, had a little subsided, the glasses were filled, and the host, after ringing a peel on the edge of the bowl, called upon the company to drink a bumper to Mr. Momus M'Phun and his Grany.

The door now opened and a servant entered, bearing a tray loaded with sandwiches, cold fowl, tongue, cheese cake and other little items of confectionery. With these she proceeded slowly round the room which was now crowded to excess, and, a little way behind her, came Mr. Momus M'Phun, in his character of wag, or clown of the evening, carrying a mustard pot and spoon, with which he played off some excellent practical jokes, that told with great effect on the younger portion of the ladies. Behind him came "our Geordie," bearing a large goblet of porter, which he handed from lady to lady, receiving, occasionally, some rather left-handed compliments on his scientific discoveries.

The feeding being over, the bowl was resumed and the amusements of the evening proceeded, till one of the elderly matrons observed, it was "time the ladies should get on their things." The fair one's instantly took flight and the gentlemen gathered round the bowl and drank the health of the absentees with praiseworthy enthusiasm. After a reasonable absence, the ladies, at the urgent entreaties of our hostess, returned, and all the company having formed a circle round the bowl, joined in singing "Auldlang syne." "Deuch an dorus," was then handed round after which, the ladies being committed to the charge of the different gentlemen, we were lighted down stairs. On reaching the street a general shaking of hands took place ; onexchanging this civility with Mrs. Pettecraw, I received a very kind invitation to a party which she intended giving the ensuing week.


(From the German. y
"Here lurks no treason—here no envy swells—
Here grow no damned grudges—here no storms—
No noise—but silence and eternal sleep."

Alamansor, a rich and noble Arab, ate, drank and enjoyed himself in all the luxuries that life can afford. One day, devoured by ennui and overcome by disgust, he was seized with an unaccountable whim—that, namely, of paying a visit to the sepulchre of his forefathers. Thither he repaired, descended into the tomb and wandered about amidst the mouldering relics of mortality, not, however, laying it to heart, that he, too, must soon become as they were, but sauntering along with the feelings of a voluptuary, and only exclaiming:—" O, Mahomet! what a cool retreat from the fervour of a burning sun, and how pleasantly digestion here, performs her functions I"

Suddenly his attention was arrested by a half effaced inscription. "In this grave," it is said, "is concealed a treasure—a treasure greater than any that Ccesus ever had." Alamansor, on whose fortune dissipation had made deep impressions, instantly and eagerly opened the grave and found only a handful of dust and a marble tablet, whereon was inscribed, "Until thou, erring mortal, with impious hand, profanedst this, the last resting place of wearied humanity, there reigned here—rest uninterrupted—a treasure which Camus himself, never had the fortune to possess 1"


Euoini Aram, a Tale, by the Author of " Pelham, Devereux, &e." 3 vols London, 1832.

This work has been now some time before the public, and has afforded a topic for criticism, in almost every Journal in the empire. This circumstance of itself, is perhaps sufficient to shew that the work is one of no ordinary a nature : one in fact which, among the many novels of the day, is destined to outlive the twelvemonth which gave it birth. Mr. Bulwer, the author of the work before us, is one who has arrived at that enviable station in the republic of letters, where he may disdainfully disclaim the ordinary bookseller's puff, and, what is more, may stand the trying test of a just and honest criticism. The man who could write "Pelham," and " Devereux," has no need to fear the party-spirit aspersions of the ultra-tory Journalists, nor will it add to his plume of fame, to obtain the equally party-spirit fawning* of the too frequently nicknamed Radical Reviewers. The author of Eugene Aram, is in fact, beyond the pale of the small fry of party critics, and has taken a place among the imaginative writers of the age, little removed from that now occupied by the Wizard of the North!

If the former novels of Bulwer raised him to this

enviable station, not only in the estimation of his own countrymen, but also of the readers of romances on the banks of the Seine, and the Elbe; we are far from thinking that the work which he has lately sent forth to the world will derogate from his high fame and character as a novelist. However various the opinions of those may be on the management of the real materials of the story of Eugene Aram, no one who has attentively perused the volumes now before us, will deny that the author, so far as his version of the tale goes, has produced a story of most absorbing interest, and one, too, which bears on its bosom a touching and terrible moral.

It would far exceed our limits, to enter into the story of this powerful romance, or to attempt even to sketch the various personages which play a part in this eventful tragedy. Suffice it to say, that it is a tale which developes some of the most powerful features of humanity, which inculcates some of the most striking philosophical truths, and which awakens some of the most touching traits of female feeling. How splendidly delineated are the musings, and the melancholy of the scholarmurderer—his constraint and his remorse—his embittered heart and his aching conscience—his love and his despair I How beautifully painted are the two lovely daughters of Lester. The noble-minded, ardent devoted Madeline—the sweet, the simple, the tenderhearted, Ellinor. How natural, too, is the youthful impetuosity of Walter Lester brought out. How odd, yet, how true to English manners, is the character of Bunting. How fearfully limned are the terrible feelings and sentiments of Houseman. All the characters introduced, are, in fact, so individualized, as to stand out ready for the dramatist, a circumstance, which has been already taken advantage of, by certain of the Playwrights of the metropolis.

Perhaps, in none of Mr. Bulwer's former novels, has he exhibited so delicate a touch in the portraits of his females, as in those which figure in this novel. The picture of the two fair sisters of Grassdale are, perhaps, no where equalled, nor is there, in the whole vast region of romance, a more natural and naive delineation of female feeling, than that which Mr. Bulwer has given the world, in the several bed-room conferences which take place between the sisters, at the time when both felt the power of the tender passion, and felt, too, that they were, themselves, beloved. The following evening colloquy will best illustrate Mr. Bulwer's happy method of sketching the homely scenes of the Manor House of Grassdale, and will, probably, induce some of our fair readers to dip into the work itself, which, although one of the most tragic kind, is, at the same time, well worthy of an attentive perusal.

It was R custom with the two sisters, when they repaired to their chamber for the night, to sit conversing, sometimes even for hours, before they finally retired to bed. This indeed was the usual time for their little confidences, and their mutual dilations over those hopes and plans for the future, which always occupy the larger share of the thoughts and conversation of the young. I do not know any thing in the world more lovely than such conferences between two beings who have no secrets to relate but what arise, all fresh, from the springs of a guiltless heart,—those pure and beautiful mysteries of an unsullied nature which warm us to bear; and we think with a sort of wonder when we feel how arid experience has made ourselves, that so much of the dew and sparkle of existence still linger in the nooks and valleys, which are as yet virgin of the sun and of mankind.

The sisters this night were more than commonly indifferent to sleep. Madeline sate by the small but bright hearth of the chamber, in her night dress, and Elinor, who was much prouder of her sister's beauty than her own, was employed in knotting up the long and lustrous hair which fell in rich luxuriance over Madeline's throat and shoulders.

"There certainly never was> such beautiful hair !" said Ellinor admiringly; "and, let me see,—yes,—on Thursday fortnight I may be dressing it, perhaps, for the last time—beigho!"

"Don't flatter yourself that you are so near the end of your troublesome duties," said Madeline, with her pretty smile, which had been much brighter and more frequent of late than it was formerly wont to be, so that Lester had remarked "That Madeline really appeared to have become the lighter and gayer of the two."

"You will come to stay with us for weeks together, at least till

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