actions she had performed, and from thence a sentiment of respect had been generated which softened envy, and gave a sort of dignity to her, very advantageous to her high station. "Mr. Fox seemed to think extremely well of her. As she loved plants and understood botany, he found it agreeable to converse with her on this elegant and interesting subject. She bad enriched Malmaison by a very fine and choice collection of plants, and it is fair to presume, that she who, raised to a throne, employed herself in acts of humanity, and in this innocent and delightful pursuit, possessed no common mind. It was said, in Paris, however, at this time, that Madame Bonaparte had been nearly disgraced several times; but that the brothers of the First Consul supported her, in the expectation that if he had no issue of his own, some of their children night succeed him; so that a divorce was probably in Bonaparte's contemplation from the moment that he saw a prospect of making the government permament and bereditary. "At this time an invitation was sent to Mr. Fox from Miss Helen Maria Williams. She requested the pleasure of his company to an evening party, and to express how much this honour would gratify her, wrote that it would be a white day' thus distinguished. Some of Mr. Fox's friends wished him to decline this invitation altogether, from apprehension of giving a handle to ill nature and calumny. He, however, always the same, disdained the fear of suspicion, and unwilling ungraciously to refuse an invitation earnestly pressed, did not agree with them, and went for a short time. I mention this circumstance, because it proves how unwilling he was to give offence or pain, as also how much he soared above common party views. He was aware that he might be represented and blackened for going to Miss Williams's Conversazione, as much as he had been for admitting Mr. A. O'Connor to his presence; but he despised slander, was not anxious for place, and was too benignant to slight with contempt and scorn the request of an accomplished female, whose vanity, as well as a natural admiration of so great a man, were deeply concerned that he should grant it. "A very interesting dianer, to which Mr. Fox was at this time admitted, brought vividly to recollection the horrors and excesses of the revolutionary times. M. Perregaux, a banker, noted for his wealth, integrity, and politeness, requested Mr. Fox, and several of his friends, to dine with him; he was a man advanced in years, of a noble presence, and most agreeable frankness of manners. The company was select and pleasing. M. Perregaux, by his good sense and consummate prudence, had escaped the very worst times of Robespierre. It was, however, still a matter of wonder to himself how he had escaped. He had seen his friends daily fall around him, and having a small country-house at Passy, a short distance from Paris, he retired there to avoid being in the midst of accumulated horrors, and often, in a calm day or evening, heard distinctly the chop of the guillotine." (To be continued.) EXTRAORDINARY ACCOUNT OF A SUPERNATURAL INTIMATION. EDWARD LORD HERBERT, of Cherbury,|| a distinguished warrior, statesman, and philosopher, who served his King, James 1. of Eng land, with so much zeal in the field, and cabinet of France, gives this extraordinary ac count of a supernatural intimation with which he was favoured while Ambassador at Paris. "My book, having been begun by me in England, and formed there in all its principal parts, was finished in France. All my spare hours which I could get from my visits and negociations being employed to perfect this work; as soon as it was done I communicated it to Hugo Grotius, the great scholar, who, to my thinking, see the place whence the sound came." Whatever this extraordinary Roise may have been, whether a supernatural sign, given espo cially from the heavens, in answer to his prayer; or an ideal impression on his senses, having escaped his prison in the Low Countries, came into France and was welcomed by me; and Monsieur Tielners also, another of the most famous critics of Christendom. After these two had perused it, and given it more commendations than is fit for me to repeat, they earnestly exhorted me to print and pub-created by the vividness of imagination; or a fish it; howbeit, as my whole book was so different from any thing which had been written heretofore on the same moral subjects, I found I must either renounce what I had now written concerning the method of finding out truth, or hazard myself to a general censure concerning the whole argument of my book. natural but inexplicable sound issuing from some invisible contact of the elements; it at least proves the admirable principle of Edward Lord Herbert, that whatever he would give to the world should be to the glory of the giver of all genius, wisdom, and abilities. Did this spirit more influence our modern writers of every description, we should not have so much false philosophy, so many almost libertine works of fancy pouring from the press. It is well known that when Congreve drew near his last moments, in the bitterness of a conscious perversion of his genius, he groaned aloud, and declared that it was the memory of the light scenes in his plays which sat so heavy on his parting soul. He would give "I must confess it did not a little animate me, that the two persons above mentioned made exceptions to this anticipated general repuguance, and did so highly value it; yet as I knew it would meet with much opposition, I did consider whether it were not better for me a while to suppress it. Being thus doubt ful, and in my chamber one fair day in summer, my casement being opened towards the south, the sun shining clear, and no windworlds, he said, to commit every line of those stirring, I took my book in my hand, and applauded dramas to the flames. kneeling on my knees devoutly, said these words:-0 thou eternal God, author of the light which now shines upon me, and giver of all inward illuminations, I do beseech thee of thy infinite goodness to pardon a greater request than a sinner ought to make! I am not satisfied enough whether I shall publish this book. If it be for thy glory, I beseech thee give me some sign from heaven; if not I shall suppress it! "I had no sooner spoken these words, than a loud, though yet gentle noise came from the heavens (for it was like nothing on earth), which did so comfort and cheer me, that I took my petition as granted, and that I had the sign demanded, whereupon I resolved to print my book. This (how strange soever it may seem) I protest before the eternal God, is true; neither am I any way superstitiously deceived herein, since I did not only clearly bear the noise, but in the serenest sky that ever I saw, being all without cloud; and I did, It would be well if every writer, whether his work be long or short, grave or gay, would reflect when he is writing it, on what it may possibly appear to him in the last hours of his life, in the retrospection of a death-bed. Lord Herbert was one of the most accomplished men of his time. He possessed a fine person, a heart formed to derive pleasure from love, and all the elegance of rank, youth, and fame. He was surrounded by flattering friends in the shape of soldiers, statesmen, nobles, and even princes. He was adulated by women of all degrees, and even Queens were jealous of his siniles. So idolized, this young and amiable nobleman is seen sacrificing all their incense on the altar of his Creator; be kucels devoutly before it, and casting the first fruits of his genius to the earth, dedicates it all to Him, or begs that it may perish! This humility and piety is as exemplary as it is admirable. AN ORIGINAL AND LUDICROUS LETTER TO INDUCE LADIES TO MAKE HEARTH-RUGS OUT OF TAYLORS' SCRAPS.* FRIEND R You have often advised me to edify the world, and put money in my purse, by the publication of my works in verse and prose; you have frequently reproved me for my unauthorlike modesty, and even laughed at my shrinking from the stern glance of criticism. on the how delightful it is to an author, or to a At present I shall rest satisfied with the admiration of a few select friends, without presenting the fruits of my leisure hours to the public. As an author's opinion of his own work is seldom regarded as it ought in their degenerate days, I shall therefore give you, in place of my own comments, the impartial judgment which Doctor Johnson, had he been so fortunate as to see my composition, would doubtless have passed upon it. I have before men|tioned that the work under consideration, is To convince you that your advice has not been thrown away, I now hasten to acquaint you with a revolution which has taken place in my mind within the last two hours; having just then given the finishing touch to an elaborate miscellaneous work, I sat down with || all the impartial rigour of a true critic to examine my composition by the rules of art : I perceived with satisfaction that my performance had a beginning, a middle, and an end; that though rich in variety, it was also no less admirable for its simplicity and uniformity. After indulging my feelings, and in vain invoking the shades of Aristotle, Longinus, Horace, and Burke, to come and sit in friendly debate on my composition, at length exhaust-miscellaneous, yet the Doctor would not have ed and weary, I began to inly ruminate upon all called it, as perhaps some envious living critics my grievances. Alas! thought I, I am acmay, a beggarly assemblage of shreds and quainted with but one live critic, and he has patches, an heterogeneous mixture of dullness not ventured to favour me with even a two and levity. No; that great potentate of minute visit during these three last stormy criticism would have exclaimed in raptures :— weeks. If I am thus deserted in the beginning" Madam! your work bids fair to out-live of October, what may I expect before May many of the frivolous, flimsy, frippery, flipnext? Suddenly an idea of a brighter cast flashed across my imagination. Did the Doctor, exclaimed I, but know that I have just completed a work of no ordinary kind, that it is ready and waiting for his inspection, surely he would come in defiance of these equinoctial gales. To you, my friend, who are so well versed in human nature, to you, who always feel more inclined to excuse than condemn, I shall not make any apology for thus trespassing on your time and patience. You, I know, will consider * This letter was written in consequence of the writer having just made a hearth-rug of taylors' scraps, pant productions of the present age. It is a work admirably calculated to lessen, if not to remove one of the many miseries of human life. Warm, without being inflammatory, grave, but not dull. Although utility has been the basis of your composition, yet ornament has not been neglected; in that genial soil the flowers of fancy bloom, regardless of December's frost. You see, friend R, how ingenious true modesty makes us authors; for rather than bestow praises on my own production, like some conceited writers, I thus call up the venerable shade of Johnson to give sentence on my works. As the Witch of Endor raised up Samuel the Prophet, so I raise up Samue the critic. Possibly some of my learne brethren may not feel much obliged to me for my pains; poor fellows! it is to be feared many among them would much rather bind him fast in the Red Sea. Much as I detest vanity and egotism, I can not drop this interesting subject without indulging you with a few of my own observa. tions. The reviewers may, perhaps, accuse me of plagiarism, but they should remember the wise monarch's observation, "that there is nothing new under the suu." A new combination of old ideas is as much as can be justly required from us moderns. Virgil borrowed freely from Homer, Milton from both, yet all allow Paradise Lost to be an original poem. Far am I from asserting, that my work, like the web of the spider, is all drawn from my own internal sources. No; I rest satisfied without pretending to that species of originality; but one circumstance in my own favour, in spite of my reluctance, must be mentioned. self with ingloriously robbing the peaceful dead. If the little which I have thus modestly ventured to say on this important subject, should, happily for me, excite your curiosity, possibly I may be favoured with a call tomorrow morning, and I shall then explain, at large, the reasons which have withheld me from waiting on you with my works in my hand. The truth is, in this dirty, rainy weather, when the feet must be clogged, and the head must be protected by an umbrella, it would have been an arduous task to carry so voluminous a work in one hand. Besides, might I not have been mistaken by idle spectators for one of those literary hawkers, who carry their copious effusions to the Minerva press? But for these reasons, and half a dozen of others, equally good, you should have seen me tottering under the burthen of my labours, in order to gratify you, your worthy partner, aud Mary-Anne, who would both, no doubt, have been as much charmed as yourself with the uncommon merits of my works. You will not suppose, Doctor, from any thing in this epistle, that the cold shivering fit of diffidence has been suddenly changed Contrary to the established practice of authors who make no scruple of conscience of borrowing, I might more properly say of stealing from the ancients, I have entirely confined my depredations to my own contemporaries. Surely critics may, perhaps, im-into the hot fever of vanity. No; my friend, pate this extraordinary forbearance on my part, to my want of access to the treasures of antiquity; but I flatter myself that my judicious friends will rather applaud the novelty, singularity, and spirit of my design. Far be it from me to apprehend that any of the liberal, but involuntary contributers to my work, should be so unreasonable as to demand their property. Much less still, can I entertain even a doubt, that you, friend R, or any other literary character, from whom I may have borrowed a few scraps, should wish to despoil my labours of their most brilliant ornaments. Then, indeed, I should be in the predicament of the poor jack daw in the fable, and be compelled to lament that I had not followed the example of my learned brethren. That instead of laying the litigious living under contribution, that I had not contented my you will certainly acknowledge that I am not an aguish patient, you will readily grant that I have at length hit precisely on the golden mean, the happy medium so strongly recommended both by Horace and yourself. Should you, however, consider me as being still under the dominion of La Mauvaise Honte; and too diffident of the merits of this last best work, pray come prepared to administer a large dose of praise, for that, I know, has done wonders in similar cases. Pray consider, that in right of my profession as an authoress, and in right of my country as an Irishwoman, I am fairly entitled to pardon for thus carrying the amiable virtue of modesty, a little farther than is customary with you Britons.-Farewel! ERINA. ANECDOTES. POPE SIXTUS THE FIFTH-A singular revolution of fortune to Pope Sixtus the Fifth. He was originally a swine-herd. When he first came to Rome, he was constrained to beg alms. Having collected a little silver, he one day stood deliberating with himself, whether he should employ it in the purchase of a loaf, which the keenness of his appetite reminded him would prove a very agreeable acquisition; or, in a pair of shoes, which his ten toes terribly complained of wanting. In this conflict of irresolution, his face betrayed the anxiety of his mind. A tradesman who had for some time observed his embarrass ment, asked him the occasion of it. He told him frankly the cause; but he did it in so facetious a manner, that the tradesman resolved to finish his perplexity by inviting him to a good dinner. When Sixtus became Pope he did not forget to return the dinner to the benevolent tradesman. To give an instance of his abilities as a politician:-When he first aspired in his mind to the Popedom, while he was yet a Cardinal, he counterfeited illness and old age for fifteen years. During the conclave, which was assembled to create a Pope, he continually leaned on his crutch, and very frequently interrupted the sage deliberations || of the conclave by a hollow cough and violent spitting. The scheme took so well, that the Cardinals fell into the trap; and every one thinking that, by electing Sixtus, he might himself stand a chance of being in a short time elected, he was chosen unanimously. Soon after the election was concluded, the new Pope performed a miracle; his legs became vigorous; his body, that had been before curbed, became firm and erect; his cough was dissipated; and he shewed in a short time, of what he was capable. SPANISH ETIQUETTE.-The etiquette, or rules to be observed in the royal palaces, is Decessary, writes Baron Bielfield, for keeping order at court. In Spain, it was carried to such lengths as to make martyrs of their Kings. Here is an instance, at which, in spite of the fatal consequences it produced, one cannot refrain from smiling-Philip III. being gravely seated, as Spaniards generally are, by a chimney where the fire-maker of the court had kindled so great a quantity of wood, that the Monarch was nearly suffocated with heat, his grandeur would not suffer him to rise from the chair; and the domestics could not presume to enter the apartment, be. cause it was against the etiquette. At length the Marquis de Potat appeared, and the King ordered him to damp the fires; but he excused himself, alleging, that he was forbidden by the etiquette to perform such a function, for which the Duke d'Usseda ought to be called upon, as it was his business. The Duke was gone out, the fire burnt fiercer, and the King endured it, rather than derogate from his dignity. But his blood was heated to such a degree, that an erysipelas broke out in his head the next day; which, being succeeded by a violent fever, carried him off in 1621, and in the 24th year of his age. The palace was once on fire; a soldier who knew the King's sister was in her apartment, and must inevitably have been consumed in a few moments by the flames, at the risk of his life, rushed in and brought her Highness safe out in his arms; but the Spanish etiquette was here dreadfully broken into! The loyal soldier was brought to trial; and, as it was impossible to deny that he had entered her apartment, he was condemned to die? The Spanish Princess, however, condescended, in consideration of the circumstance, to pardon the soldier, and very benevolently saved his life! NEW METHOD OF BOOK-KEEPING —An old American trader, whose father attended more to teaching his son the methods of accumulating riches than knowledge, lived some time ago in a town in the state of Connecticut. From application and industry he had amassed a property of about 20,000 dollars. Al|| though not able to read or write, he never hired a clerk, but had always been in the habit of keeping his own books. He had invented some new characters for conveying his ideas to himself and others; they were formed as |