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Woman In Her Social And Domestic Character. By Mrs.

John Sandford. London, Longman & Co. 1831. What a beautiful and instructive little Work is this by Mrs. Sandford. The title is singularly interesting, and what it leads to assuredly does not belie it. There is a pure and precious feeling running through the whole of the tiny volume, which cannot fail to make it be perused with satisfaction and advantage by the young, the middle-aged, and the old. How beautifully has the authoress represented woman in that most interesting of all situations, her "Social and Domestic Character;" more especially in that where she is seen clothed with the chaste garment of Religion, whether that be displayed by the tender daughter, the affectionate wife, or the devoted mother! What, indeed, can better recommend that best of alt philosophy for the fair Bex—the true Christian religion—than the character that is here so ably and so elegantly pourtrayed?

"The promotion of religious feeling is one of the greatest blessings of female influence. Yet the more qualified women are to adorn and recommend piety, the more important is it that they should not mistake or misapply their power. They may be really useful,—they may, by their gentle persuasion, enforce truth,— they may cause religion to be loved for their sake;—how necessary, then, is it that they should study the means by which they may be the honoured instruments of doing so much good? How unhappy that they should ever mistake their line, bring a prejudice on their profession, and mar their own acceptance!

"Religion is peculiarly their province; and never U their influence so well employed as in recommending it. Never is woman so truly delightful as when she is the advocate of piety, and when, by a consistent and holy conversation, she exemplifies the principles which she wishes to enforce.

"Her influence, indeed, is chiefly in example. This is her best persuasive. By witnessing the effects of religion in her, men learn to appreciate its value. If it makes her more domestic, more self-denying, more kind, more contented, and more agreeable, they will, at least, respect it.

Experience proves the efficacy of this silent appeal. How often has it prevailed when a more direct one has been unsuccessful. And it is peculiarly appropriate to woman. None can find fault with her for consistency or virtue. None can blame her because she is more meek, more forgiving, more benevolent, more courteous, than others who are less religious. On the contrary, these graces secure to her an influence, and often pave the way for the reception of her opinions, If, in the early dawn of Christian light, woman was often honoured as its harbinger,—if, even in the imperial palace, the apostle found in her no feeble advocate, and, at the semi-barbarous court, the missionary hailed her as his kind and fostering friend,—was it not by her personal character that she mainly recommended truth, and advocated the doctrines she had herself learnt to prize?

"And so it is now. Women may often outlive prejudice. They may be so exemplary in their discharge of social duty, so pious towards their parents, so affectionate to their husbands, so devoted to their children; they may so grace and enliven the family circle, that their religion, which at first might have been considered their only defect, is at length valued, and perhaps, even adopted. Many a pious son has recorded his debt of gratitude to a Christian mother,—many a Christian mother has sown, like Monaco, the seed in sorrow, and, like Monaca too, has had reason to rejoice when it has returned sevenfold into her bosom.

"And the influence of a religious woman may extend far beyond her own home. She may be the PrUeilla, or the Lydia, or the Dorcas, of a village, sympathising with the necessities of the poor, denying herself to relieve them, and availing herself of the access thus obtained to their affections, to lead them to the one only source of consolation."

11 Religion was, perhaps, never more talked of than it is at present. Not only is it the heart-enlivening topic amongst Christian friends, but serious conversation is often the passport to society, and the means of elevating individuals above their natural rank in life. There are thus many temptations to spurious piety, and there are many, too, to female vanity; for a slight proficiency in religious knowledge renders women fluent, and they may mistake mere facility of expression for real feeling.

"And have we not reason to deplore the errors into which they are, in this way, occasionally betrayed? Do we not sometime see even young women arrogating to themselves the right, not merely of private judgment but of dictation,—descanting on the conflicting questions which agitate the religious world, or enouncing with unhesitating confidence some new conceit, to which the caprice or ignorance of modern empiricism has given birth? And, at length, do we not see them become the tools of some interested fanatic, or the disciples of some scarcely less culpable, though more honest, zealot, to whose keeping they have delivered their consciences, whose varying opinions they are pledged to adopt and to support,

and whom they credulously and emuluusly follow through all the phases of his eccentric orbit 7*

• ••*«•

"Pity it is that the symmetrical form of true religion should be ever obscured by the misshapen image of fanaticism, and that the prominence assumed by the latter should conceal her perfect features. But it is no wonder that it should be so; for fanaticism U ever bold, and courts display. She walks unveiled,—she tells her tale in the street,—she runs to rich and poor, to learned and unlearned,—proselytising some, alarming others; and raising, mt least, the cry of party, either for or against herself.

"How different is the quiet step and modest mien of true religion! She does not strive nor cry; but, like her Divine Author ,when he walked on earth, she shuns the crowd of idle gazers, and stops the garrulous mouth of fame. Few speak of her,—few know her,— she is found in the retired village, or in the humble shed,—in the private circle, or in the solitary chamber. She is the guide and friend of ber, who, with a single eye, and simple heart, fixes her regard on heaven, and her affections upon God."

The individual who practises the religion here spoken of, may well say that she has acquired the " pearl of great price;" and, while struggling amid the sorrows and the bereavements of this transitory life, will find comfort and consolation in that faith which assures her of a better and a more enduring existence. This is, indeed, an important little volume for females; and we would, therefore, warmly recommend all mothers to read it, simply because they will there find their duty, clearly, touchingly, and eloquently set forth. Daughters ought to read it; because the maxims which it inculcates will tend to form habits that are useful, and will direct their minds and hearts to the things that will make them happy here and hereafter. To the wife, Mrs. Sandford offers advice which, if followed, is well calculated to retain the affections of him who should be the chief object of her earthly concern—the partner of her pilgrimage ;—while she acacompanies this with so many easy and practical lessons, that no woman may be afraid, if she only follows them, of losing her attractive influence—that influence which age and acquaintanceship, instead of destroying, tends only to increase and perpetuate. In one word, there never was a little volume more richly stored with good counsel for the fair sex, nor more worthy of their serious perusal. Replete with genuine piety, it is a work which every woman may study with advantage to herself and to the community; and we have no doubt that those who really study it, and imbibe its precepts, will find them reflected back upon themselves, and will impart a resistless charm to the " Social and Domestic Character of Woman."


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In the great world—which being interpreted,

Meanetll the west or worst end of a city,
And about twice two thousand people, bred,

By no means, to be very wise or witty;
But to sit up, while others lie in bed,

Aud look down on the universe with pity.

Bvron's DON JUAN.

-we have just been favoured with the following epistle on the vulgar plague which is so rapidly ascending the corinthian column of our fashionable community. It is indeed well worthy of the serious consideration of all our fair readers:—

Blytiiswood Hill, Thursday. Dear Mr. Day,—As mama and I breakfast every morning in bed, and so cannot enter into the vulgar enjoyment of reading you at that meal, we generally delay doing so, till the evening, when " pa," who is often obliged to dine in the warehouse, comes home to a cup of tea. So you see, last night, we had a few of our neighbours of " the hill" with us, when your paper, on "door plates" was read, and the great question of the necessary distinction of ranks was introduced, and handled with much ability. I shall at present, only trouble you with the conclusion of the debate, as the whole subject will so soon be brought fully before the public. Miss Matilda Muscovado declared, that " indeed the middling and lower orders were getting so well bred and saucy, that there was no bearing with them, and that by and byeall distinction was in dangcrof beingdoneaway, for," says she, "at last assembly, I repeatedly danced with a very genteel and handsome young man, who wore charming mustachios, 'd la Blacker,' and whom I looked upon as at the least a captain of dragoons; but how was I horror-struck, when, a few days afterwards, I recognised him at the back of a counter in High Street, brandishing an ellwand over a sample of bombazeen, and serving out cholera-bandages by the dozen?" "O! la," says Miss Dorothea MacDrugget, that was nothing to the insolence of the fellow, and a very sprightly one he was, who squired me home, on an evening, lately from Signor Blitz. He was dressed in a blue Joseph, and sky-coloured tights, and bore as striking a resemblance to the dear departed Lord Byron, as one egg does to another, except in the article of legs, of which he demonstrated his having two, not only by his agility in assisting the juggler, on the evening in question, but two days afterwards, when passing along the Trongate, I was petrified at seeing him start into the guard's seat of the Edinburgh coach, with a bugle in his hand, upon which, so soon as he had mounted, he warbled most charmingly, 'The Girl I left behind me'." "Dear me," says Mrs. MacTwist, "what will this warl come to,—I hae mind weel eneuch, about forty years sin' syne, when oor Mungo and me cam' to Glasco, frae the Brig o' Johnstone, whar we had been bred an' born a' our days, that nae honest folks wad hae trusted their dochters, to a dance or a daffin, without some weel-kent nee'bor laud, o' their ain degree; but things are noo, turned sae tapsalteery, that in ilka place o' amusement ye meet wi' cornals and coppersmiths, majors, muutebanks an' mautmen, captains and coolers, a' rinnen throughither, higgledypiggledy, after the lasses; an' for my ain pairt, I dinna ken bit the braw laud that's jist noo courtin' oor

Peggy, and says he's the son o' a Highlan' laird, may be an affshot o' an Irish trogger." "O gemini I" cries Miss Grace Gingham, "how can ye say that Misses M'Twist. I have known Mr. Donald M'Tavish quite well, since we were in 'the dancing' together, and I am sure, that his father is really laird of the island of Yontlaw. By the same token, he comes every year, from Dumbarton-muir fair to our house, with six of the young ladies, and stays with papa for three or four weeks, to give an opportunity to all his cousins, settled in business in Glasgow, and I assure you a goodly number there is of them, to eat and drink with him. His son is a very fashionable young man, and when he gets Miss Margaretta MacTwist's tocher to hand, he will take care to support the honour of the family." "Honour here, honour there," quoth Mrs. Anastasia MacLappet, " I wad sen' the chief aboot his business. It's time eneuch for the ' Glasgow people' to mix their blood wi' that o' the ' Hieland folk,' when they can spen' saxpence aboot. There's oor Sanders, (a sharper man never clinked cash i' the Candleriggs,) sauld £10 worth o'muslin, six years sin', to AlacCash o' Hillsiller, for the waddin' o' his auldest dochter, wha married the laird o' Langcredit; but ne'er a bodle o' the price has ever come to Glasco', although the steamer passes his castle every day, and he ay sends us his compliments." "Aye, but," cries mamma, "what's te be dune to stem the torrant o' vulgurUy that's setting up the Hill? Unless we can stop it, we may as weel spit an' gie o'er, or at anco put on our auld pinafores, and awa' to the back shop again." "Oh, shocking!" exclaimed Miss Cecilia Cigar, "your alternative, Ma'm, brings on me the same tendency to sickness, which comes on, I feel, whenever I am exposed to the air of Trongate or Saltinarket; but I have a plan to suggest, and that is, that we get Dr. Cleland (a genteel man, and a great admirer of the ladies) to build a high wall, (like that which shuts out the Tartars from the celestial empire,) beginning at the Clyde below St. Enoch's church, running up the centre of Buchanan Street, and ending at the Canal. That this wall shall be garnished with turrets at convenient distances, to be garrisoned by the junior members of the Western Club, That Mr. D B

shall be the janitor of the great gate; through which no person shall be allowed to pass Jo the westward till their pedigree be certified by a committee of the senior members of the Western." "It's done, it's" done," cry the united and delighted females. "Hooly, hooly, leddies!" says papa, " ye little ken how the warld wags, if ye think to carry a motion that so much concerns the public in a hole and corner. Ye maun get up a requisition to the Lady Provost for a public meeting, where it may be regularly discussed, an' openly an' satisfactorily settled; or, if Councillor

C or Commissioner L get word o't, ye'll

better no."

"Agreed, by all means," cries every one. "Come, Miss MacLinen, officiate as Secretary." The proposal was carried by acclamation; and I now perform my duty in sending you the enclosed notice for insertion, which I hope will appear in your next Number.

I am, dear Day, Your faithful servant,

Augusta, .mama Wil.hei.mina Maclinen.

To the Hon. the Lady Provost of Glasgow.

My Lady,

We, the subscribers, residing in Glasgow and its vicinity, request your Ladyship will call a Public Meeting1 of the Matrons, Spinsters, and all those Ladies of Glasgow who take an interest in such matters, to be held on an early day, to take into consideration the state of manners in the community, and the propriety of erecting a wall of separation between the genteel and vulgar classes of society. We are, my Lady, Your Ladyship's obedient servants,

Deborah Drtsalter.
Barrara Baker.
Catharine Conserve.
Matilda Muscovado.
Dorothea Macdrugget,
Tabitha Mactwist.
Grace Gingham.
Anastasia Maclafpet.
Cecilia Cigar.
Bethea Bottleblowek-
Mary Macnotar.

Augusta Maria Wilhelmina Maclinev.


■* The Graces! the Graces! remember the Graces!"


I Was exceedingly chagrined by my last misfortune. I began to doubt, if the ladies were, really, so beautiful, or the gentlemen so polite; for, when on bad terms with myself, I generally find I am disposed to be on very indifferent terms with other people.

Whilst I was in this amiable mood, my respected friend Mr. Reef, senior, who, although he could not dance, because of his wooden leg, yet was on his legs all the evening, was enjoying the scene with an almost youthful vivacity. Observing me moody and solitary, he sought a companion for me, and soon introduced me to a gentleman, "a particular friend," as he was pleased to denominate him. I would, much rather, have been left to my own meditations. However, after the usual salaams, we commenced conversation. "Pray, Sir," said I, "who is the awkward creature, so curiously dressed, and so conceited, who leans on the gentleman's arm at the opposite side of the room?" He hesitated.

"Um —a—why, Sir, to tell you the truth, that is my sister."

This was a damper, indeed—so I fixed my eyes on the colours at the end of the apartment, looked vacant, and pretended not to hear him. A few minutes elapsed, during which time we criticised the dress of one of the gentlemen present, and our taste seemed entirely to agree. But the fair sex was still in my head. A lady attempted to look agreeable as she passed my companion— "who," I exclaimed, "is that ugly and forward woman?" "Zounds, Sir!" cried my companion, "that, Sir, is my wife!" Here my former tactics would not do. I was now obliged to apologize in good earnest. This had, already, been a dark day in my pilgrimage, but my evil genius had not yet forsaken me.

A smile of recognition from a very sweet face, overturned all my doubts regarding the beauty of the ladies, and, as I flattered myself, its owner had entered the room after my late exhibition of awkwardness, I went boldly towards her, and, presenting my kidded hand, I received such a hearty shake, that it elevated me more than I had been during the evening.

She was one of those warm hearted creatures altogether without artifice, that we so very seldom meet, and, as from her manner, I flattered myself she was not entirely indifferent to me, I concluded that fortune, tired of her persecutions, was now semiling on my path. My companion, occasionally, cast longing looks towards the dancers, but I carefully eschewed the interpretation of them, and, indeed, "the Elysian dreams of lovers when they love," presented, so many "words that burned," and visions of fancy and of feeling, that, at length, neither of us seemed inclined to separate even during the short intervals of the quadrille. Her's was a face one does not easily forget, and, if I had now the mellow pencil of a Lawrence, I could, even yet, trace her every feature. In height she was rather under, than above

the middle size. Her hair was neither dark nor light, but that effective middle tint that harmonizes so well with a countenance, rather pale than rosy, and, which is so frequently the concomitant, of a modest and gentle disposition. Her brow was a tower of ivory. Her eyes were set with that indescribable effect which is so remarkable in the Greek statues, and which is so full of sentiment and feeling. Her chin and mouth were perfect in proportion and expression—altogether she was, indeed, a charming creature. Her band so white, so small and sylphlike, lay gracefully on the arm of the sofa, nearest where I sat. We were in a retired corner of the room. Its fair owner was steadily gazing on the dancers. Could I resist? No! I ventured to attempt to kiss it, and I knew it must be done quickly. Down went my head, when, at the very moment, she unconsciously raised her hand, having in it a small Chinese fan, it entered my right eye, and, for five minutes, I suffered intense pain. Huge basons of burning copper waxed and waned before me; I thought on my unpaid subscription to the Glasgow Eye Infirmary, and the resources of the blind in the new Institution. The tears at length came flowing down from the wounded optic, and afforded me relief, whilst conscious I had intended wrong, I kept the uuwounded side of my face to my fair friend, and endeavoured to throw into it an expression of pleasure. Heraclitus and Democritus in one physiognomy, the laughing and crying philosopher in my face at the same time!

"Surely fortune, now thou wilt leave off thy persecution of me, who, most earnestly, woos thy smiles," I mentally prayed— but no, that fan! that fan .' was still destined to be the cause of torment.

Having, successfully, concealed my tears, my partner and I proceeded to the very thickest of the balL I saw my fair one wished to dance, and "corraglo," I cried, *' I'll request her to be my partner." Her fan, at this moment, fell. I saw one of the stewards and two of the Club, rushing, with all their might, to have the honour of presenting it to my loved one—could I permit this? No! So I rushed, with greater alacrity, than they, and, for the same object of course. I suddenly stooped down, stretching every muscle to lay hold of it, when *' Quia talis fando,"

my tights gave way, "we must not say where," and though I involuntarily placed both hands in a situation to cover my disgrace, a burst of laughter, from the whole company, completed my discomfiture. My fair partner vanished in a moment! The first gentleman who spoke to me, inquired, "if I had increased my landed property lately?" I stood silent. "Because," said he, "you are encreasing your rents." Even old Reef, the confounded old fellow, could not be silent, but, in his man-of-war dialect, expressed his regret that I had sprung my Transom. I hastened to the door, when meeting one of the stewards I apologised for leaving the ball-room so early, but he said, "all apology was unnecessary, as all the company saw my end in retiring.''


"Quoquc per inventus vitara cxcolucre per artes."

Yes, it is somewhat consolatory to reflect, though none of my discoveries have yet elicited a tithe of the approbation which they merit, that their very peculiarities evince them to result from au inventive talent of no ordinary kind. Human intellect must be at a very low ebb, indeed, when it is incapable of duly estimating the efforts of genius. 'Tis true, no one can appreciate my discoveries, as I am taught to do, by the infinite labour which some of them cost before being brought to that state of perfection in which I could look upon them with the utmost satisfaction; but even our famed Society of Arts not to perceive the practicability of my cloud conductor!! Their discretion, however, in acknowledging that I was an eccentric, was something ; and, sa far, I honour them for their caudour. Yes, I glory in the title—Davy was an eccentric, Newton was an eccentric. In short, all deviated from the common herd whose great names, like so many luminaries, add a lustre to the intellectual firmament, and where, thank my stars, there is still room for another.

"Full many a flower is born to blush, unseen,
And waste its sweetness in the desert air."

Ah! there is no flower like that of genius, and none so much neglected. It appears to be a law of nature that fortune should smile upon the rogue and the fool, and allow the son of genius to famish upon the bare curiosity of an ungrateful public, until his sublime intelligence, like an ill-used ghost, spurns its claybuilt tenement, and speeds away to it more genial, than its terrestrial sphere. Beautiful! Egad I'll publish a " Chameleon," and dedicate it to Cribdotha. As there are some exceptions, however, to this pitiable fate of genius, I am determined I shall take care to be one of them. Even at the expense of talent will I aim at the filling of my pockets; after which, the immortal honour due to vast and momentous discoveries will follow, of course. I am free to declare that the world, when it beholds me enjoying the rewards of my labour, will acknowledge me to be the first genius who ever was a wise man. How it laughs at the starving poets and scranky philosophers, whose very souls seem to peep out through their bodies.

How the Royal Society will stare at my solution of that problem which will give the long established system of elemental philosophy an irrecoverable shock! 'Twill be some consolation for the chagrin I lately felt, when my proposal of dividing, equally, among all classes, the whole property of the nation, met with no better reception than a grin. Little are people aware of the blessings that would result from such an equality. Every clamorous reformer would then be as happy as a king; and I, my single self, would have the sole honour of the change. O, I must lay my proposal before the public now that they are ripe for such a thing. Indeed, I am ever making some valuable discovery, though the utility of those heretofore, alas! for the world, it has not had perspicuity enough to discern. So all my delightful theories, too refined and too complex for the vulgar conception, like the hidden treasures of an undiscovered mine, have never been beheld by their own light. 'Tis a dark age this—a most degenerate age! and I am the sufferer. But I shall not sink into oblivion. A better day is at band in which my now obscure name will be enrolled, Jn golden letters, in the annals of fame. How depressing to the noble spirit of genius is the neglect of that great dunce—the World, who progresses so rapidly in the "march of intellect," that has become as giddy as a boarding-school miss in her first trip by a rail-road. 'Tis to be hoped that it will, ere long, open its eyes to the value of real merit. O, these, in verity, will be the golden days; and I hope to enjoy them long before reaching what is called the wane of life, in spite of the insinuations of some of my young friends, that I am a bachelor already. O horrible, preposterous, degenerate notion! Because, forsooth, I am not foppish, nor frolicsome, but carefully avoid every thing unbecoming a man of intellect. But, let me tell such base, unprincipled detractors, that I neither wear a wig, nor am I much turned of fifty! and who will presume to say, any man is a bachelor, properly so called, till he be past the prime of life!! O, I wish I had beat that young puppy to death with my walking cane, when he hinted so of me in Cribdotha's presence— though I believe his confessing, he only meant that I was a smart young bachelor like himself, was the only thing which saved his bones from my fury. Yet people should have a special care against shocking one's more tender feelings.

O, Cribdotha! thou little knowest what is waiting thee! It is needless to imagine that there is the least probability of this invention failing of success. How enraptured Cribdotha will be, when she knows it was discovered on her account! and how much in its favour is the atmosphere of this city—seldom a clear, dry, calm, bright, sunny day, from January to December; but, rain, rain, rain, morning, noon, and night. O, I like to see nothing better, excepting my dear Cribdotha; for, without the rain, what would become of my invention, and then my bright prospects would once more be clouded. What mighty consequences result from apparently insignificant causes! An apple falling led to the discovery of the law which guides the planets in their course; and had it not been for the blattering and blustering of the rain and wind t'other day, when I witnessed the lady's bonnet twitched off her head by the little round gentleman, when attempting to hold his umbrella high enough to let her pass, ten thousand to one I had never made the discovery. And though I do not flatter myself with having accomplished what was impossible, I have certainly bit upon a most delightful invention. Well might I mutter to myself, as I shuddered from top to toe, that if I had been the little fat gentleman, and Cribdotha the unfortunate lady, or had I done so yester-morning, when I brushed past, pretending not to see her, lest she would speak to me when my asthma was so bad, I would not, no, I could not have set the value of my small toe against my interest in her future smiles. I never more would have dared to look either her or her sweet, pretty, little, darling pet, as she calls ber great Tom puss, in the face. Tom is, indeed, my rival; but, what of that! he is the only one; and, as cats can't last for ever, he will soon be as blind as a bat, and fusty as an old bachelor; while I will just be in the prime of life —fresh and fair, sound and sixty! Then Cribdotha will turn all her doating upon me! Oh, sweet—sweet—sweet charming creature! Hem, hem!

O, soft and light as a gossamer's web

Is my heart, when it bounds to Cribdotha's smile;

And a fire-fly's tale u not half so red

As the glow that plays on her cheek the while.

For she's fair and bland, as the sweet autumn mom,
When it all the blue sky is adorning;
A nd blushes just like the sun when too soon
He has risen in a cold winter morning.

Ugh, I have no voice for singing just now; this asthma almost stops my breath. The lady's head, too! Oh! if I thought Cribdotha had such a head, I would go mad. When her bonnet fell off, such a little round skull thinly set with reddish grey hair, presented itself. The long auburn ringlets, which hung so gracefully from her brow but a minute before, appeared now to no more advantage than if they had been decking a peruke-maker's block. Well, for me, I furled my umbrella that instant, and vowed never again to tempt the winds and fate with a thing so dangerous; for it was this which set my imagination a-soaring, and led to the important discovery of my patent umbrella. The cover will turn round the staff delightfully, from the nice construction of the top; and all risk will be avoided of uncovering a fair lady's caput in the ungraceful manner I witnessed, or even of tearing her veil, or poking out ber beau's eye. O, reason! thou art the noble pillar of true majesty in man! O, Cribdotha! nothing is wanting to make us happy! No wonder my umbrella-maker was struck dumb with admiration, and unable sufficiently to express his approval of my plan, when I discovered to him its utility. I think I was not long in putting in practice his hint of obtaining a patent for it. His suggestion, too, of the propriety of giving him an order to make a few hundreds, was exceedingly kind. It will bring riches immediately. O! I am already on the wing of fame! It will now be Mr. Philosophus Thumpet's patent umbrella, instead of Sir Humphry Davy's safety lamp. Now I have succeeded in an invention which the world shall behold, and, beholding, will admire. What have I to do, but instantly set about taking a dwelling in the city, for Cribdotha and myself, with a good perspective of the Trongate, hoping that we may still be blessed with constant rain; and then the delight of sitting all day long at the window, and seeing the umbrellas whirling round like so many "spinning jennies. O! it will be a grand universal whirlosity of patent umbrellas!!!


THE FLAKE OF SNOW. (After the manner of the Seicentisli Poets of Italy. J

A fluttering flake of pearly snow,
Proud that of all things here below

In whiteness it surpassed—
Upon Eliza's spotless breast,
In sportive-taunting mirth to rest,

Fell down from heaven at last.
But on those " drifted heaps" so fair,

O'ermatch'd in all it held so dear,
With humbled pride and anguish —there—

It quick dissulv'd into a tear!

THE FAT AND LEAN PUNSTERS. Two emulous punsters, one fat t'other lean, Met once in a crowd, and thus vented their spleen. The lean wit began—" Sir, wherever you go, There always goes with you a great fool, you know." "Nay, that," quoth the fat wit, "may very well be, For what are you like but a shadow to me f" "Stay," lean wit replied, " I'm a fool, it is true; But were I yourself—I'd be equal to two."

MISCELLANEA. It is certain, that the gloomiest prospect presents nothing so chilling as the aspect of human faces in which we try, in vain, to trace one corresponding expression; and the sterility of nature itself is luxury compared to the sterility of human hearts, which communicates all the desolation they feel.—Maturin.

The life of the happy is all hopes—that of the unfortunate, all memory. —Maturin.

A Classical Horse-dealer A horse-dealer in the Athenian city of Oxford, who is familiarly designated Squeaker Hill, lately made an addition to his stud of two tine horses, to which he assigned the classical cognomina of Xerxes and Artaxerxes. A gentleman commoner having demanded of him his "exquisite reason" for so doing, he replied, "Why you see as how when I drives tandem, I make Xerxes my leader, and puts the other in the shafts, and so I calls him Arter-Xerxes."

Talexts In A Natkin.—A gentleman once introduced his son to Rowland Hill, by letter, as a youth of great promise, and as likely to do honour to the University of which he was a member; "but he is shy," added the father, "and idle, and I fear buries his talents in a napkin." A short time afterwards the parent, anxious for his opinion, enquired what he thought of his son? " I have shaken the napkin," said Rowland Hill, "at all corners, and there is nothing in it."—Diamond Mayazine.

Giardim, (whose popularity in England at one period nearly equalled that of Paganini now,) had, notwithstanding the brilliancy of his execution, but small pretension to musical science. When somebody told Dr. Bnyce that he professed to teach composition in twenty lessons, "All that he knows," sarcastically replied the Doctor, "he might teach in ten."

GLASGOW GOSSIP. The Literary men in this part of the world were all in agitation last week, by the production of a poetical gem that appeared in a contemporary, under the modest signature of D. B. Such was the interest excited, that a committee of subscribers are said to have waited upon the master-spirit of the New Exchange Room, for the purpose of having it publicly read.

The late dinner in Blythwood Hill, where the chandelier was destroyed, turned out a breakfast.

LONDON THEATRICALS. From our London Correspondent. The opera of Rob Iioy has been always a particular favourite of mine, and the other night I saw it enacted in a style, at Drury Lane, which I have seldom seen equalled. Macready appeared in his original character of Macgregor, which he renders a fine, bold, and altogether splendid piece of acting ; and its representation in other hands is either weak by comparison, or ridiculous by imitation—the first position of which refers more particularly to Warde, and the latter to Cooper; both of whom I have seen in the part. Mr. Wood who has been ill all the week, has been the means of introducing Mr. Templetou in several of those characters which I presume he calls his own. I may merely say that I think the change is for the better, Templeton having the sweetest male voice on the stage, and being a much finer musician than Mr. Wood now is, or ever will be. He sung the airs given to' Francis Osbaliliston in the most finished style, and his entire performance was received with that favour which is always due to excellence and modest merit. Many persons cry donn Harley's Baillie, and, by way of absurdity, cry up Liston's; but, I must confess I like the former best. It has less buffoonery, and more genuine dry humour, which is certainly more characteristic of the wary weaver of Glasgow, as drawn by the matchless author of the novel from which the drama is taken. The injunction, viz.—" Let your clown say no more than is set down for him," should be strictly attended to, and this Mr. Liston invariably violates, and Mr. Harley pretty generally adheres to. The true distinction of talent Iks far more in raising a laugh out of the good joke of the author, than out of the slang pans of a greenroom. Major Galbraith was performed by Bedford, and, barring a little too much breadth now and then, was about the best done thing in the play. Mr. Thompson, in Captain Thornton, looked as dull and uninteresting as a legitimate November fog. There is no penetrating him, and he wanders and gapes about as if he were really in one. Mr. Perry was the very worst Owen ever exhibited before a row of gas lights, and Rcssell was just one shade better in Dougal. But how shall I characterize the exertions of Mrs. Woon, who made Diana Vernon what many singers would not condescend to do—a prominent feature. She introduced two extra ballads with great effect; and in one of them, " Here's a health, bonny Scotlaud, to thee,1' was vociferously applauded, and only escaped an encore by the interposition of one half of the audience. I never heard this songstress in better voice, and never saw an audience in better humour for relishing her singing. Mrs. Salmon performed Meg Merrylees, with about as much energy as a tomtit could muster. Notwithstanding the minor defects alluded to, I think I have said enough to convince you, who was not there, that had you been, and witnessed the united exertions of Macready, Harley, Templeton, Bedford, and Mrs. Wood, you would have been quite as much entertained as I was.

The piece of " My own Lover," announced at Drury Lane for performance, is from the pen of George Rodwell, who, both in the capacity of author and composer, is a man of very considerable ability.

Notwithstanding the many reports to the contrary, I may tell you that Robert le Diable is in a most forward state at Drury Lane Theatre. When George Colman heard that Bishop had slept a night or two at Calais, and mentioned as a reason for so doing, the difficulty of procuring a " Diligence," he observed, that he certainly ought to have got one somewhere, because he used None of ms Own. His most gracious Majesty is still at Brighton, and so is little Moses Poole, living in great style on the profits of the Dominique—and "so much for" the drama, till I next write you.

FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. Dutch literature has just sustained a severe loss by the death of the celebrated Poet Bilderdyee. He was buried on the 23d ult. with great pomp, in the principal church of Haarlem. The intellectual powers and varied erudition of this poet, were not more remarkable than the purity of his life and the warmth of his benevolent affections. Throughout his whole writings there runs a sober, serious, and pious spirit; a spirit which, may be truly said, has tended not a little to reawaken the energies of his distinguished predecessors, Vondel and Cats.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. W. G. R. James has nearly ready, "a History of Edward the Black Prince."

"Sia Ralph Esher, or Adventures of a Gentleman of the Court of Charles II. will be published immediately.



"N. N't." communication has been received, and will appear iu the course of a few days.

We have received " The lieachrrs." It is smart and satirical, but we cannot insert it without the name aud address of its author.

"P." has taken much trouble in sending us "Piper's news."

A friend recommends to our attention the question regarding the New Exchange railing. Although not given to irony, we shall discuss it tomorrow.

The first of a series of Articles on Portugal under Miguel, from the pen of an eye-witness of his atrocities, will appeal- tomorrow.


We are now entering upon our third week's labour, and we cannot allow the opportunity to pass without returning our most sincere thanks to the public for their kind and increasing patronage. We are in hopes that we have now made such arrangements as to insure our readers being in possession of our Journal by nine o'clock, which at this season of the year may at least be accounted a good breakfast hour.

We would likewise take this opportunity of thanking our contemporaries of the Press for their kind notice of our labours, and especially of assuring The Scotsman and The Glasgow Herald, who have each shown so much kindness towards us, that it will be our endeavour ever to retain, by increased exertions, the good opinion which they have formed of the first steps which we have made iu our literary career.

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