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GLASGOW GOSSIP.

The following odd coincidence has been much talked of by those who were present at the reading of the Lunatic Asylum Report, on the 5th of this month. It appears that, in that document, evidently drawn up by Dr. Balmanno, the worthy and indefatigable physician of our far-famed establishment, most honourable mention is made of Mr. Robert M'Nair, formerly a much respected denizen of this city, and well named the father of the institution, whose eighteenth annual report is about to be laid before the public; and, strange to say, about the very time that the meeting was congregated, and was listening to the exertions, which Mr. M'Nair bad once made in establishing the Asylum, that gentleman was breathing his last in Leilh, where he had spent the latter years of a most useful life.

We understand that at a criminal trial which took place lately in Edinburgh, the following singular circumstance occurred. The jury were impannelled, and about to proceed to business, when it was all at once discovered that some of the members had come from the cholera-stricken towns of Musselburgh and Tranent. The panic which this discovery occasioned cannot be conceived. In a moment the jury became speechless and pale, and there was a general but silent effort made by all present to reach the door. This was happily effected without any accident, and the terrified jurors, after having refreshed themselves with a breath of callour air, were persuaded to go on with the trial, without suffering any other inconvenience than that which fear usually occasions.

ANOTHER COMPLAINT.

To the Editor of The Dir. Dear Mr. Day,—If you have got any tender feeling, you cannot put it to a better account than lecture our Glasgow-wegians into the propriety of walking the streets—not according to their "present evil ways," but after the manner'they do in London, t. e. "with the right hand to the wall." Such a mode would relieve us (the tender sex) of a great deal of "jolting and squeezing," so, if you have any desire to stand high in our estimation, it is by guarding the public to do what is right, and, according to the standard adage, "right wrongs no man!" With kind wishes for your daily welfare, I remain, "most charming Day," yours, till to-morrow,

Celestina.

Carlton Place, Tuesday afternoon.

P. S.—It almost escaped me to mention, that, at a Ladies' Party we had t'other evening, the subject of conversation concentrated into that of the most talented and polite Journal (oY) "The Day," when it was unanimously agreed, that, if a blank were supplied, ice would pronounce it—an all-perfect Day !—of course, the blank refers alone to "births, marriages and deaths," by inserting which, "your petitioners shall ever pray."

[We would willingly comply with the call of our fair Correspondent, but, as we do not, in any way, wish to infringe on the Stamp Acts, we have hitherto avoided inserting births, marriages and deaths.—E. of D.j

FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

A Society has been formed at Copenhagen, under the title of Die Kb'nigliche Gesellschaft fir Nordisehe Allerthumskunde. It proposes to publish works connected with ancient northern literature, especially such as will throw light upon ancient northern history. The society has now been in existence for six years. It ranks amongst its members the names of Magnusen, Ham, and others well known in the northern literary world. It publishes, every year, a report of its proceedings; and, from the last, we learn that they have already published the following volumes :— Iornmanna Sbaua ou Sagas historiques d'creneineuts passes hors de ITslandc, publics dans la langue islandaise. Vol I, II, III, IV, V & XL Oldnokdisee Saoaee, traduction danoise des mcmes eeuvres,

par M. C. C. Rain, Vol. I, II, III & XI. Scrifta Historica Islandoeum, traduction latine des memes

Sagas, Vol. I, II & III. Islendinoa Soour ou Sagas historiques des evenemcnts pasess

en Islande publics dans la langue originate, Vol. I & II. Krakas Maal Ou hauts-faits et niort heroique de Ragnar Lodbrock en Angleterre, publics dans la langue originate avec traductions en danois, en latin et en frnncais, avec notes et remarques critiques et philologiques. FoxMALDAa SbooH Nordrlanda ou Sagas mythologiques-historiques et romautiques des crenements du Nord avant ('occupation de ITsIande dans le 0me Steele ou commencement de I'ere proprement historique, publics dans la langue islandaise Vol. Mil,

Nordiske FoaTiDs-SAGAER, traduction danoise des mcmes eeuvres, Vol. MIL

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

Sir John Malcolm is, at present, busy with the Life of Lord

Clive.

The first volume of the Georgian Era, comprising Memoirs of Persons who have nourished in Great Britain from the Accession of George L to the demise of George IV., is in the press.

A Story of Naval Life is on the eve of appearance, to be entitled The Adventures of a Younger Son.

Mr. James's Memoirs of Celebrated will speedily be published.

A new edition is in the Press, with numet small 8vo. of Campbell's Poetical Works. Mr. Campbell's recently published Poems.

Bent's List of Books Published or am: Thk Tear 1831 — It appears from this useful little compilation, that the number of new books published in the last year was about 1100, exclusive of new editions, pamphlets, or periodicals—being SO less than in 1830.

cms plates, in 2 vols. It will include all

MISCELLANEA.

Definition or Love.—At a Parochial examination, a Minister asked a tort of half crazy woman what love was, which the string of his former questions led him to, "What's love, Nanny?" "Love, Sir." "Yes, what's love?" "Hoot fye, Sir," says Nanny, "dinna spier sic a daft like question as that, when I'm sure ye ken that lore's just an unco' fykeiness i' the mind, an' what mair can me or any it her body, say about it?"

Anecdote Of Madame MALiaaAN.—At New York, Gar Cla's daughter, then new to the stage, appeared at the opera, and performed with great success several different characters, such as Tancredi, Malcolm, in La Donna del Logo, Desdemona, &c Relative to her performance of the latter character a curious anecdote is told. Garcia played the Moor of Venice, and at the rehearsal he considered his daughter's performance so cold that be declared his deter initiation to stab her in good earnest at the catastrophe if she did not evince a little more spirit. This threat, in the mouth of a very severe master, was taken seriously by Mademoiselle Garcia. It had a good effect. The performance was sublime. At the conclusion, her father, in a transport of joy, overwhelmed her with praises and caresses.

Russian Navy.—One day when I was on board the Azoff, a man fell from the main-yard into the sea, narrowly missing the Admiral's barge, which was alongside. On rising to the surface, the Admiral applied his cane pretty smartly to the man's shoulders; and, on my expressing some commiseration for the poor fellow's misfortune, the Admiral exclaimed, "Ah, the d-- d rascal! he was near, breaking my barge to atoms."—MS. Journal of an Officer.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"Censor" will probably appear on Saturday. "Codicil To The Devil's Will" will appear to-morrow. "W. R.'s" pleasing paper on the Coliseum at Rome will i on Saturday.

"Fumioator" is under consideration.

"SoMNiAToa's" communication will be submitted to the attention of the Board.

Peggy Pilot's kind epistle has been received. It has as yet

been our endeavour to avoid personalities, and we a to do so, "that our days may be long upon the land

In order to insure this Publication being on the Breakfast Table every morning, it is requested that intending Subscribers will leave their names and addresses at the Publisher's

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THE DAY,

A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.

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CARPE DIEM.

GLASGOW, FRIDAY, JANUARY 27, 1832.

CODICIL TO THE DEVIL'S WILL.

The Devil was slick, and the Devil a monk would be,
Tile Devil got well, but the Devil a monk was he.

OLU fUOVEUB.

INTRODUCTION. A Great many of our apothegms have had their origin in gome historical fact, and frequently when these facts have slipped, like eels, from the grasp of the historian of the age to which they belonged, they have been preserved by the voice of tradition. The writer, however, is not among those who attach historical importance to oral testimony, unless he find such testimony corroborated from other quarters. That the devil was once assailed by one of those "ills which flesh is heir to," is most distinctly asserted in the above proverb, but as to how, when, and where, it is left entirely at the mercy of conjecture. That our arch-enemy once made a will, the writer has some reason to believe, having actually seen a copy of it himself, in black letter, and purporting to have first made its appearance sometime in the seventeenth century. Now, provided this document is to be considered as genuine, we may, with great reason infer, that the devil must at one time have been seriously indisposed, for we cannot believe that one, so naturally shrewd and sagacious as auld black-a-viced is allowed to be, would have incurred the expense of a lawyer's bill, unless he felt, as our poet expresses it, "some curmurrin' in his guts." That we are correct as to the actual existence of the deed referred to, our readers have oar most positive assurance—in addition to which, we can also refer them, for particulars, to Mr. David Laing, Secretary to the Bannatyne Club, Edinburgh, and Mr. John Wylie, Secretary to the Mailland Club, Glasgow. We are induced to give these two references, in order to accommodate the readers of " The Day" in both places. Our friends in the country, we have no doubt, may also have their curiosity gratified, by franking; their letters to either of the above gentlemen. Having thus, in a manner, established the existence of a "will," and also shewn the reasonableness of our deduction in relation to the devil's sickness, our read era will, perhaps, expect us to be equally explicit with respect to the date and nature of his complaint. On this subject, kind and indulgent friends, you will allow us to scratch our head, and advise, for a moment, with the crown lawyers.

As it appears to have been part of the policy of his "sublime" darkness, to refrain from issuing bulletins when he chanced to be laid on the shelf, it is extremely difficult to ascertain exactly the date of the sickness mentioned in the proverb.—If we take it for granted, however, that the ailment alluded to, suggested the propriety of the old one setting his house in order, we may venture, on what may be considered pretty tolerable authority, to fix upon the middle of the tenth century as the era of both occurrences. It appears, from the most indisputable evidence, that about this period, or rather towards the close of the century, the Archbishop of Canterbury, from what provocation it does not sufficiently appear, took a very singular and uugentlemanly liberty with the ebony beak of his Satanic majesty. The assault is recorded in the Latin archives

of the church, and was thus rendered into English doggrel, for the purpose of rivetting the exploit of the prelate more strongly on the minds of the people.

St. Dunstan, as the story goes,

Once took the devil by the nose

With red hot tongs, which made him roar

Till he was heard three miles and more.

That the devil was seriously injured by the above treatment is sufficiently clear from the document itself, as we cannot suppose he was such a great calf as to set up a bellowing about nothing; more particularly as we find it recorded in our proverbs, that he once expressed his dislike of all unnecessary uproar, and is thus represented as entering his caveat against it:—

"Mucklc din and little woo', as the devil said whan he clippit

the sow."'

Now, it is but fair to suppose that, if he possessed that consistency of character attributed to him by Milton, and others conversant with his peculiarities, he would never have condemned that conduct in poor grumphy, which he was in the habit of indulging in himself. From this circumstance, therefore, we conceive the affair with his saintship was no joke, and that he was laid up in consequence is but a natural conclusion. Now, had any of the learned practitioners of our times been formed into a well-paid board of health, and required to report on the case, we have no doubt but they would have pronounced it "inflammation of a very dangerous description," produced by the fiery indignation of the churchman. The " particular description," however, as in the case of cholera, they would have been very shy in condescending upon, so long as the pay was forthcoming. As we have no sinister purpose to serve, we shall, in few words, give our decided opinion.—From the circumstance of his Satanic majesty's attention being drawn towards his friends in the disposal of his goods and chattels, it is evident that his bowels must have been affected :—and, as we have always considered the nose as a conductor of caloric, we have little doubt but the barbarous treatment he experienced from his Grace of Canterbury brought on inflammation in those parts, sufficiently alarming to beget the resolution expressed in our leading proverb, and also to suggest the propriety of his "mnkin' a red."

Having thus, as we conceive, given as much information on this intricate case as can well be expected, we may perhaps be allowed to indulge in a remark or two on the conduct of the saint. That he and the devil were opposed to each other in politics, is evident from the violent heat which the argument gave rise to. That the devil was, and is a staunch, consistent, outand-out arcft'-reformer is known to all; and though, on the present occasion, like the antis of our day, he was defeated at his own weapons, yet, we must say, we cannot see much of that patient, urbane character in the demeanour of his Reverence which sheds such a halo round the mitres of our modern churchmen. Meek, forbearing men that they are I they would a thousand times rather permit the devil to lead them by the nose, than incur the odium of taking such uncharitable liberties with him. 'Tis true, the old gentleman conducts himself in a more polite manner than the gruff old champion of Canterbury; and, in place of shocking their feelings with the application of red hot tongs, he returns the archbishop's compliment to his successors, by very dexterously converting a good fat benefice into a pair of most delectable and convenient nose-pinchers, within the blades of which he finds no priest, of whatever persuasion, demur about entrusting his proboscis. Even in our Scottish church, which is held up as the pink of disinterested purity, we have known a professorship hammered into a very taking pair of tongs, and an able advocate of the truth, who had been making rapid inroads on the kingdom of darkness, led off, with all the docility of a lamb, to where the carnal extinguisher of filthy lucre and worldly-raindedness could be very conveniently clapped upon his usefulness. We have also heard of an " augmentation," with the advantage of a residence in Edinburgh, transmugrified into the blades of a pair of nose-catchers, and the poor heart-broken shepherd led off from his weeping and disconsolate flock, while the devil, (no doubt,) ensconced behind the pulpit, stood grinning, with his ugly fore claw on the side of his no less ugly snout, enjoying, with malicious glee, the heart-rending scene that was going on in this house of mourning, where "not a dry eye" was to be found but his own filthy looker*, with which he had winked away their dearly beloved spiritual instructor. In short, it is believed that there are few of our modern " Scottish worthies," but, if old Belzie chose, (provided he always changed his tongs for a better pair,) he might lead by the nose from Maiden Kirk to Johnny Groats and back again, without a tithe of the rumpus and caterwauling he made in his trifling affair with St. Dunstan.

Having made these few. remarks on noseology, we shall hazard a guess or two at the reason why the present codicil happens to be now added to the original deed. In the first place, we suspect that the rapid approach of cholera may have alarmed the testator, as being conscious of belonging to that low dissipated class, who are said to be most liable to infection. Or, what is more probable, the almost certainty of the Reform Bill being passed, may have brought on a touch of his old complaint; be that as it may, the document was slipped under our study door at midnight, while the last flash of our candle was glimmering in the socket. We shall therefore give it in a future number, for the information of all those who may feel themselves interested as to the manner old homey has disposed of his gear.

* Lucre? Query by Printer's Devil.

THE ATELIER OF A PAINTER.

From the French of Delanou. "Theodebert Munier was an ordinary young man, about five feet four inches in height, and a bit of a sheen. There was a wildguess in his look, and a strangeness in his manner, which repelled all advances towards intimacy. He was such an artist as might be expected from a young enthusiast who was almost born in the Sistine Chapel—who played there when a child before the wonders of Michael Angelo—drew there, upon his knees, and stood erect in manhood with confidence in himself and the power of genius. Rome opened to him a brilliant prospect, * • * when a letter from Bayonne announced that his mother was dangerously ill. Adieu to art! In a transport of apprehension he fled from Rome like a madman. * * On his arrival at Bayonne he found his mother recovered; but his career was closed at Rome, and he came to Paris.

"Alas! what was he to do at Paris !—none knew him, or suspected his talents. What was he to do in a city where there is a Museum for fools, portraits instead of pictures, and amateurs instead of artists! He saw nothing here of his beloved art. He inquired for it, but found it not. He hired, in a remote part of the city, and far from the Museum, a spacious painting-room, in which he could place the largest pictures, and converse face to face with Da Vinci, with Raphael, Michael Angelo, and the Caracers. » « » He purchased, at Haro's, for ready money, a

canvas of thirty feet, which to him was one of only ordinary dimensions, and this expense ruinedhim for six months. But then the picture would be excellent!

"In less than a month this immense canvass was covered, parts were nearly finished, and the Bork promised to be worthy of the artist. Theodebert touched it no more. * * • He returned from a solitary walk in deep affliction; he had not yet earned one shilling by his labours. His head was burning, and his right hand thrust into his bosom. He cast a wild glance at his huge picture, which the yellow and vacillating flame of the taper aud the surrounding darkness made appear still more gigantic. 'I shall never finish it,' he exclaimed. » • • The next morning every trace of it was effaced. • • •

"Excited by I know not what caprice—labouring under I know not what fever of impatience, he had effaced the work, intending to begin another; then the disheartening conviction came upon him that none regarded his talents—nay, a doubt if he had talent. He had smarted under so much criticism—suffered so many rude insults, that hope had fled from him. Darkness overshadowed all his anticipations—an icy coldness checked the palpitating heart of the enthusiast—hypochondria fixed her fangs upon the victim she was never more to quit. In vain did Theodebert struggle on with all the stubborness of genius, and all the fury of his ardent pencil—in vain did he heap design upon design, and sketch upou sketch; he was wasting life in unsuccessful efforts. The harpy knawed pitilessly on; and the poor artist, harassed and discouraged, fell at length exhausted before that cold and smooth canvas which his genius would have glorified, but his pencil could no longer touch. • • •

"I went to see him. He had passed a horrible night. 'My friend,' said he, sitting up in his bed, 'I have had a vision. I was scarcely asleep when everything around me appeared to increase in size. The walls of my painting room were covered with marble —the windows lengthened into porticos—columns and pilasters arose, and shot up to meet a vaulted roof, which seemed curving to receive them. • • * In the midst of this magnificence I was alone, lost, trembling, crushed, annihilated! I was at Rome, in a palace which I never saw, but yet recognized well. On a sudden, enormous beams appeared to shoot out from between so many columns, to cross each other in all directions, and at length formed a solid scaffolding, upon which I was placed, palette in hand, without having had time to desire it, and before I had spoken a word, or advanced a single step. In vain did I struggle against the invisible hand which had raised me by the hair of the head, and held my slender body at such a marvellous height from the ground. I was to paint the cupola; and the time allowed me for this work was till the end of the day. Night came before I had half completed my task—the fatal term was past—the scaffolding cracked, gave way, and I fell to the ground!

"' I found myself once more upon my bed, bruised and breathless. My dream continued. This time I distinctly saw my canvas of thirty feet rise through the floor, like the auleea of the ancients, or the curtain at the Ocleon, in measured time, slowly and solemnly. When it touched the ceiling, I heard a shrill whistle. An extraordinary exhibition now took place. It was like a representation of ombres chinoiscs. At first, there was a grotesque collection of noses of every dimension, from Odry to Pelligrini. The devil was there, in propria persona, and, with the aid of a wand, explained to me each subject as it appeared aud filed off in procession before my eyes. He then showed me a distribution of medals aud crosses to be made at the salon 1631. M. Dubufe was reported painter of the first class, and Johannot turned back to the second: M. Lancrenon pamphletizing about it.

"' On a sudden the canvass darkened, and was turned upside down. It was now no longer a simple canvass, but a magnificent picture—mine—the one I intend to paint—the work I have spoken to you about. It was finished, and a fat English lord offered me six hundred thousand francs for it.

"' I refused this sum—my demand was a million of francs.

"' The lord raised his offer, by degrees, to nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine francs.

** ' I still refused, and the devil—for it was he—burst into a loud fit of laughter, and disappeared.

"' Scarcely had I lost sight of him, when the brilliant colours of the painting faded, mingled with each other, and ran down the canvass in streams, like the sweat on the skin of a quoit player. The figures grinned horribly, and moved about with a hideous variety of strange attitudes and contortions, so strange, indeed, as to exhaust my patience.

"' My lords!' I exclaimed, bitterly, and with the loud voice, to the cardinals—whose purple was fast disappearing, and to the bishops, whose faces were already of the same colour as their stockings and camails—' My lords! in mercy, tell me whether you are perspiring blood or wine?1

"' They replied by a monotonous plain chant, which seemed to become fainter and fainter as the colours vanished from the canvass. This strange sound continued a short time, and then ceased with a noise like the last hiccup of a drunkard, or the last sob of a drowning man.

"' On awaking, I looked towards the middle of the room for the picture of my dream ;—it was gone. I felt under my pillow for the nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine francs of the English lord—they were not there.

"' In despair I jumped out of bed, and ran to my paintingroom. The canvass was where I had left it the night before— vast, white, cold, and untouched! Ah! my friend! that dream —it is the coup de grace—I feel doubly discouraged.'

"I tried to console poor Theodebert, but in vain. He quitted Paris the same day.

"He has now been gone two months; and a letter from Bayonne, with a black seal, has just been brought me. It is not to announce the death of his mother, but that of my unhappy friend himself, who has committed suicide!"

HINDOSTANEE FASHIONS. The following interesting picture of the Fashions of is extracted from Mrs. Meer Hassan Ali's newly published work on the Mussulmans of India:—

The ladies' pyjaamubs are formed of rich satin, or cloth gold, goolbudden, or mussheroo, (striped washing silks manufactured at Benares,) fine chintz—English manufacture having the preference)—silk or cotton ginghams—in short, all such materials are used for this article of female dress as are of sufficiently firm texture, down to the white calico of the country, suited to the means of the wearer. By the most fashionable females they are worn very full below the knee, and reach to the feet, which are partially covered by the fulness, the extremity finished and the seams are bound with silver riband; a very broad silver riband binds the top of the pyjaamah; this being double has a zarbund (a silk net cord) run through, by which this part of the dress is confined at the waist. The ends of the zarbund are finished with rich tassels of gold and silver, curiously and expressly made for this purpose, which extend below the knees; for full dress, these tassels are rendered magnificent with pearls and jewels.

"One universal shape is adopted in the form of the ungeea, (bodice,) which is, however, much varied in the material and ornamental part; some are of gauze or net, muslin, &c,- the more in texture the more agreeable to taste, and all are ! or less ornamented with spangles and silver trimmings. It is made to fit the bust with great exactness, and to fasten behind with strong cotton cords; the sleeves are very short and tight, and finished with some fanciful embroidery or silver riband. Even the women servants pride themselves on pretty ungeeahs, and all will strive to have a little finery about them, however coarse the material it is formed of may happen to be. They are never removed at night, but continue to be worn a week together, unless its beauty fades earlier, or the ornamental parts tarnish through

With the ungeeah is worn a transparent courtie (literally translated shirt) of thread net; this covers the waistband of the pyjaamah, but does not screen it; the seams and hems are trimmed with silver or gold ribands.

The deputtah is a useful envelope, and the most graceful part of the whole female costume. In shape and size, a large sheet will convey an idea of the deputtah's dimensions; the quality depends on choice or circumstances; the preference is given to our light English manufacture of leno or muslin, for every-day wear by gentlewomen; but on gala days, gold and silver gauze tissues are in great request, as is also fine India muslin manufactured at Decca—transparent and soft as the web of the gossamer spider ;— this is called shubnum (night dew), from its delicate texture, and is procured at a great expense, even in India; some deputtahs are formed of gold-worked muslin, English crape, coloured gauze, &c. On ordinary occasions ladies wear them simply bound with silver riband, but for dress they are richly trimmed with embroidery and bullion fringes, which add much to the splendour of the scene, when two or three hundred females are collected together in their assemblies. The deputtah is worn with much original taste on the back of the head, and falls in graceful folds over the person; when standing, it is crossed in front, one end partially screening the figure, the other thrown over the opposite shoulder.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

LE TEMS ET L'AMOUR. A voyager, passant sa vie.

Certain vieillard, nomme le Toms, Pres d'un tleuvs arrive, et secrie,

"Ayez pitie de mes vieux ans, He, quoi! sur ces bords on m'oublie,

Moi qui comptes tous les instants, Mes cheies amis, je vous supplie,

Venn, venez, paster le 'J cms." De l'autre cote, sur la plage,

Plus d'une fille regardait, Voulant aider a son passage

Sur un bateau qu' Amour guidait. Mais une d'elles, bien plus sage,

Lui repetait ces mots prudens, "Bien souvent on a fait naufrage,

En cherchant a passer le Terns." L' Amour gaiement pousse au rivage,

II abnrde tous pres du Tems; Et lui propose le voyage—

L'embrasse et l'abandonne aux vents. Agitant ses ratnes legcres,

II dit et redit dans ses chants, "Vous voyez bien, belles bergeres,

Que l'Amour fait passer le Terms." Mais, tout-a-coup, l'Amour se lasse,

Ce fut toujours la, son defaut, Le Tems prend la rame a sa place,

Et lui redit aussitut— "Pauvre enfant!—Quelle est ta I

Tu dors, et je chante a mon tour, Le beau refrain de la viellesse,

Que le Tems fait passer l' Amour.'

LOVE AND TIME.—TRANSLATION. This life's dreary road, as alone he did wander,

Old Time, a grey vet'ran in lowly attire, Approach'd a fair stream, that with gentle meander

Did flow in soft murmurs, and pleasure inspire.

Oppress'd with fatigue, and by age sore brought under, That did he thus craved—which his years did demand—

"Ah! why on these banks I'm forgot, I do wonder,
Since each sportive hour is the gift of my band?

Come, help, my kind friends, an old man to pass over,'1
He said to some nymphs on the still further shore,

M'ho wished to assist him—when, lo! they discover
A pinnace the signal of Cupid that bore.

But one whom Experience had taught more discretion,

Thus wisely retorts, on behalf of the fair, "Too many, good Sir, in this short navigation,

Are lost, as examples for us—to beware."

Young Cupid, alone, does encounter the danger;

He straightway accosts the grave monarch of years; And gaily proposing his bark to the stranger,

Love's tender embrace soon dispels all his fears.

As dimples the wave that his light oars are cleaving,
This feat of his prowess he boasts in his song—

"Behold, beauteous maids, there is here no deceiving—
When Love is the pilot, how Time glides along '."

But soon does the urchin grow tired of his station:
This trick he has ever been known to practise.

Well pleased to observe Cupid's new inclination,

Old Time grasps the oar, and thus, jeeringly cries—

"Poor child !—what, so feeble !—can st labour no longer ?— Is't thus that the force of thine arm thou didst prove?

Then trust now th' old adage which calls me the stronger, Since Time, thou may'st see, gets the better of Love."

TOUCHING OURSELVES.
"Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuateI

SHAKESPEARE,

Conuxdrum—Why are we, when read by snatches, like the morning dawn ?—Ans. Because it's peep o' Day I

Am Anomaly How many "Days" are in the week ?—Ans.

Six only.—" The Day" is not published on Suuday!

Another Anomalv—How often do we entertain the public? —Ans. Every " Day!"

An Enigma.—Why are we (when bound) an especial favourite with men of business ?—Ans. Because it's their Day-Booh!

A Riddle.—What is the nightly wish of our readers, on resigning themselves to sleep?—Ans. That they may see the light of another " Day!"

A-divertisement !—Why does our Publisher look forward to a good old age ?—Ans. Because he has many "Days" before him I

GLASGOW GOSSIP.

A Thousand singular reports have reached us regarding the supposed characters who figured in our paper of the Assembly; and, strange to say, but one of them is correct. The fact is, our Spectacles belong to the knot of blind men who generally patronize our Assembly-Rooms, and hence his delineation of character cannot be expected to be so graphic as if he had been really one whose optics are more perfect. We shall endeavour to have a personage with a vitreous lens more convex, and a retina more acute, to attend the Gaelic Ball, for the purpose of reporting its proceedings.

WEST COUNTRY REMINISCENCES.

The following anecdote used to be related by an old gentleman, who died at the age of 97, shortly before the commencement of the present century. He was a youth of 15 at the time of the rebellion in 1715, and had a very distinct recollection of seeing the Highlanders ride through Glasgow at that period. He was then an apprentice with a cabinet-maker in the Westergate, (now Argyle Street,) and the attention of journeymen and apprentices was one day arrested by a woman cry "wha'll buy my Ruglen ream?" The cream was in a jar, covered over with a cloth. One of the workmen offered to bet five shillings that he would cause her to break her jar, without touching either it or its owner, or being seen by, or having any communication whatever with her. The bet was instantly taken up by a wondering comrade, when the sly rogue slips out, takes his station behind the maid, and lets fall a jar similar to her own. The girl exclaiming ** Ou! my ream's n gane!" catches the cloth, thinking to save her jar, which, thus freed from her grasp, is broken in a hundred pieces, to her utter discomfiture, and the fulfilment of our friend's bet, who sent his less cunning work-feilow to discharge his debt, by relieving her calamity.

MUSIC.

MILITARY BANDS.

Amongst the numerous improvements which Music, as an Art, has undergone within the last twenty years, there are few, we think, more striking than those upon Military Instruments. Facility of execution is now a task of little difficulty, even upon those instruments whose scale formerly was no imperfect that the most careful practice wars scarcely sufficient to play them in tune. We allude to the clarinet, the flute, the bassoon, &c. We have now concerto players upon the French horn and the trombone; the former had, at that time, in the hands of the best performers, only seven or eight notes, while the latter had just been imported from Germany, and was, of course, but little understood. It has now, however, become the most effective bass instrument of the orchestra. These, with the addition of keyed trumpets, double bass, horns, &c all of modern invention, com. bine to make that language most forcible and eloquent, which conjures up to the mind's eye of the hearer, "the pomp and circumstance of glorious war." Nor is this all that the lover of music has to congratulate himself upon. He can now hear the melodies of Rossini, "breathing like the sweet south ;" the strains of Mozart and Weber, awakening the feelings of awe and sublimity, too deep for utterance ; even these he can hear with a degree of truth, pleasure and expression, which brings the effect of a military band very near, indeed, to that of a complete orchestra. We are led to make these remarks from the circumstance of a band being at present in the city that proves what we have adverted to. We have, lately, had frequent opportunities of judging of its excellence, and, if we except the band of the Household Troops, we may safely affirm, that there is, perhaps, no regiment in his Majesty's service that can boast of a better than that of the 4th Dragoon Guards. We have heard them perform overtures from the works of Rossini, Boildieu, Mozart and others, in a most masterly manner; in fact, nothing induces us to go to the theatre more readily, than when we learn that this band is to perform, and we hope while it remains, that these opportunities will be neither few nor far between. We have, also, been very much pleased with the manner in which some of the principal performers have acquitted themselves in a situation still more difficult—we mean the orchestra. To accompany vocal music requires a certain "tact," which is only acquired by great experience; and, considering how seldom this happens to military men, their conduct deserves great praise.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

A Third edition of Miss Jewsbury's Letters to the Young, with additions, will appear immediately.

Shortly, the Four Series of The Romance of History, in a cheap edition, uniform with the Waverley Novels.

The Carding and Spinning Master's Assistant, by James Montgomery, is in the press.

Letters from a Mother to her Daughter are to be published forthwith.

. ,• MI6CELLANEA.

Polish Women The Polish women are beautiful —they are

exquisitely beautiful. I am almost convinced that Eve must have been a Pole. My travelling companion told me of a gentleman, who, after losing his heart in Germany, his soul in France, his understanding in Italy, was made bankrupt of his sense in Poland; and when thus reduced to the condition of a moral skeleton, he retired, for the enjoyment of matrimonial happiness, to Russia Poland under Dominion of Russia.

A Hint To Husbands.—Thestory of the widow who was won by a lover, even when watching the dead body of her husband, is not improbable. The silence, the solitude, the darkness, the dismal paraphernalia of death—all were points in his favour; for all affected her with horror, and predisposed her mind to seek relief in images of joy. The mourning of Jane, mother of the Emperor Charles V., was at once more extraordinary and better calculated for continuance. When her husband, Philip of Austria, died, and it became necessary to tear the body from her arms and place it in a coffin, she surrounded it with all the funeral magnificence and publicity that were possible, and took her own station as the first actress in the pageant. Wherever she went, the splendid accompanied and surrounded her. She. made, in this manner, 1 tour of Castille; from town to town, from city to city, glided i dark procession, with its banners, and plumes, and songs < woe. All Spain, all Europe, was filled with the renown of her grief. Think you that this widow was in dauger from a 1 There is nothing, indeed, so imprudent as retirement iu such > Husbands should get themselves laid out in the drawing-room, and taken in a hearse to the watering-places. If this custom was once fairly introduced, I have no doubt that, even at the doors of the Opera, we should at length be gratified with the solemn and affecting cry of—" Lady Blank's husband (tups the way!"

Book-making.—Never was the noble art of book-making carried to such high perfection as at present. These compilers; to forget that people have libraries. One vamps up a now of travels, consisting merely of disguised extracts from for publications. Another fills his pages with Greek and Latin extracts from Aristotle and Quintilian. A third, if possible, more insipid, gives us long quotations from our poets, while a reference was enough, the books being in the hands of every body. Another treats us with old French ana in masquerade; and, by a singular fate, derives advantage from his very blunders, which makes the things look new. Pah! I, and an amanuensis, could scribble one of those books in tweuty-four hours.— Walpole.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

We have received a graphic account of a " Nocturnal Trial in the Crypt." The characters are painted to the life; but, we regret that we cannot give insertion to our correspondent's clever paper, from our determination to avoid the least approach to personalities. We shall be happy to hear from him again, however, ou a less ticklish subject.

"A Father's Funeral," from the Unpublished Autobiography of An Orphan, will appear to-morrow.

"R. P.'a" poetical Address to Tobacco is more fitted for lighting a pipe, than enlightening our readers.

"O. P. Q s" stanzas on " An Author and a Critic; or, a Hint to Book-makers," are excellent; but, we fear that the I "smells" rather too much of " the shop" fur our

We are informed that some articles, which have appeared in 11 The Day," have been attributed to the pen of Dr. Macnish. aud we take the earliest opportunity of stilling so unfounded a rumour. Dr. Macnish is, in no way, connected with this paper, aud never has contributed a single article to its pages.

The article " Hogg In London," attributed to Mr. Leiicm Ritchie, is not from the pen of our able friend.

In order to insure this Publication being on the Table every morning, it is requested that intending will leave their names and addresses at the Publisher's.

HIGH WATER AT THE BROOMIELAW.

Morning. Eyeninc.
It. in. h. m.

Friday, 9 24 10 2

Saturday, 10 40 11 14

GLASGOW: Published every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Wylie, at the British and Foreign Library, 97, Argyle Street, Glasgow; Srii.m Brothers, Librarians, High Street, and Thos. Stevenson', Edinburgh: David Dick, Bookseller, Paisley: John Hislop, Greenock; and J. Glass, Bookseller, RoUisay.—And Printed by John Graham, Melville Place,

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