mit. One day a customer of his called upon him for the purpose of settling his account; the book of hieroglyphics was handed down, and our merchant commenced with such a time you had a gallon of rum, and such a time a pound of tea; such a time a gallon of molasses, and such a time a cheese."-" Stop there," said the customer, "I never had a cheese of you or any other person; I make my own cheese."--"You certainly must have had it," said the merchant," it is down in my book." The other denied ever buying an article of that kind. After a sufficient number of pros and cons. upon recollection he informed him he had purchased a grindstone, about that time. "Tis the very thing," said the merchant," and I must have forgotten to put the hole in the middle."

IMAGINARY AUTHORSHIP.-During the seven years war, a German, named John Matthias King, who was connected with the commissariate of the Prussian army, came over to London. It does not appear that he published in England any book. On his return to Germany, he said, that he had written a refuta

ary crusade. Afterwards, he said, that the King of Prussia was seeking for him to imprison him, and that he should perish in a Protestant inquisition, suffering like Trenck. In order to avoid this suppositious danger he took refuge in the imperial city of Frankfort on the Maine; hired a garret in the house of a Jew, named Brentano, which be never quitted: had the door, which fronted his staircase, filled up with grating, so that he could receive provisions through the lattice, without opening his apartment; bought fire-arms, which lay about always loaded; and in every thing lived after the manner of a man who hourly expected to be seized by the constables, and was determined to repel force by force. His chairs, his tables, his clothes, he made himself with singular dexterity. He had sunk upon his life a sufficient sum to buy all he wanted; and would frequently treat himself with oranges, which the Jew boys brought to his grating. Of his savings he made an annual rouleau, to the amount of three hundred ducats, which he sent to some evangelical pastor for charitable uses. He died in the year 1776.

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

THIS is an elegant specimen of the grotesque, but then it is grotesque without caricature; it is nature itself, poor, trifling, but true. The attitude of the Schoolmaster gives the air of one fatigued, and even splenetic; he has grown old in his profession; his head, though a common one, is pedantic, and even magisterial in its expression. He seems, in fact, the learned man of the village; his head is wrapped up like that of an aged man who fears the effect of the air, from his profession hav

ing always kept him secluded from it; and his dress seems affectedly to imitate that of a collegiate dignitary. He is surrounded also by all the attributes of the school; in his hand is the ferule; near him is the rod, also a long cane to reach those who are noisy at a distance without quitting his chair, and an hour-glass to point out the end of his task, Dear him is a dormer window, to enable him to keep a watchful eye over the play-ground; there is also an old desk; his spectacles lie on the table; in short, the whole is dreary and

colouring.

All the scholars are busy, each according to his age or class; near the master an unlucky youth has just received correction, and squeezes his hand as yet smarting from the blow, all his body expresses the contortion of suffering; on one side a little urchin brings his task, apparently content with himself, marking at least a good will to learn; amidst the groupe is a rickety dwarf with his chin tied up, as if suffering from disease; in the back ground is the class-table, where a little scribbler sits with all the awkwardness of a beginner, a figure which must have been studied from nature, for it would have been impossible to have placed any study in that attitude. On the other side of the picture, four idlers neglect their tasks for play; but this part of the piece ought to have had more light thrown on it from the open window which is introduced.

In the fore-ground, a noisy boy has been placed as if for punishment, and the artist has made use of him with great judgment to throw the other objects into a good perspective.

This picture is, in fact, perhaps the finest of any of the same master, in the Museum; the colouring, without being brilliant, which the subject forbids, is yet very forcible, and shews itself finely to an attentive eye; it is not naturé in a holiday dress, but it is nature correct, poor yet not disgusting, and simple without dryness.

THE SMOAKER SEATED.

Though this little picture is perhaps possess ed of fewer beauties than any in the collection from his pencil, yet to preserve the order entire we have given it a place. In fact, the artist has gone beyond his mark; the labour of the head has given it too high a polish, so as to render it dull and spungy; in short, he

tion to the general talent of Van Ostade, a thing which often happens where a man attempts to outdo himself, and to do better than well.

It is true, indeed, that the features are correct; aud one easily perceives that they have been patiently studied from nature; but then the labour which the colouring has cost alters the purity of the various contours, and renders the design too soft, and the effect vapid.

In the back ground are card-players, who have no other merit than that of being perfectly in their place, as expressed by their tone of colouring. They are illumined by a light in opposition to that which shines upon the head; an arrangement which agrees harmoniously with the dark and light sides of the back ground, and gives sufficient relief to the principal object; but then this effect is not sufficiently felt, for the lateral light which comes from the open window on the back ground of the picture, is too much in a right line, and does not possess the clearness of

nature.

In short, the painting of the Flemish school is too much like an optical machine, where every thing is placed for the sake of effect, without regard to truth; to the disciples of that school it seems of little consequence that a model of their picture cannot be found in nature; it is sufficient for them if they can please and flatter her. Their pictures, in general, are nothing more than pretty romances, where we forget to look after truth whilst bewildered with the variety of scenery, with elegance of style, and the originality of the characters. Whilst one is amused with | reading them, we cannot quarrel with the author on the probability of the adventures which he has invented; if they are not in nature, yet we wish that they were so, and that is enough.

THE following Poem is founded upon a Spanish tradition, particularly detailed in the notes; but bearing in general, that Don Roderick, the last Gothic King of Spain, when the invasion of the Moors was impending, had the temerity to descend into an ancient vault, near Toledo, the opening of which had been denounced as fatal to the Spanish monarchy. The legend adds, that his rash curiosity was mortified by au emblematical representation of those Saracens, who, in the year 714, defeated him in battle, and reduced Spain under their dominion. The vision of the revolutions of Spain are prolonged down to the present eventful crisis of the Peninsula; and it is divided by a supposed change of scene, into three periods. The first of these represents the invasion of the Moors, the defeat and death of Roderick, and closes with the peaceful occupation of the country by the victors. The second period embraces the state of the Peninsula, when the conquests of the Spaniards and Portuguese in the East and West Indies had raised to the highest pitch the renown of their arms; sullied, however, by superstition and cruelty. An allusion to the inhumanities of the Inquisition terminates this picture. The last part of the Poem opeus with the state of Spain previous to the unparalleled treachery of Bonaparte; gives a sketch of the usurpation attempted upon that unsuspicious and friendly kingdom, and terminates with the arrival of the British succours. It may be further proper to mention, that the object of the Poem is less to comme. morate or detail particular incidents, than to exhibit a general and impressive picture of the several periods brought upon the stage.

The following beautiful appeal is made by Mr. Scott to the feelings of the reader, in his description of the memorable sieges of Zaragoza and Gerona :

"What Minstrel verse may sing, or tongue
may tell,

Amid the visioned strife from sea to sea,
How oft the Patriot banners rose or fell,
Still honoured in defeat as victory?
No. XXIV. Vol. IV.-N. S.

For that sad pageant of events to be, Shewed every form of fight by field and flood;

Slaughter and ruiu shouting forth their glee,

Beheld, while riding on the tempest-scud, The waters choaked with slain, the earth bedrenched with blood!

Then Zaragoza-blighted be the tongue That names thy name without the honours due!

For never hath the harp of minstrel rung

Of faith so felly proved, so firmly true; Mine, sap, and bomb, thy shattered ruins knew,

Each art of war's extremity had room, Twice from thy half-sack'd streets the foe withdrew, [doom, And when at length stern Fate decreed thy They won not Zaragoza, but her childrens' bloody tomb.

Yet raise thy head, sad city! Though in

And like the sacred reliques of the flame, That gave some martyr to the blessed

above, [prove! To every loyal heart may thy sad embers

Nor thine alone such wreck. Gerona fair! Faithful to death thy heroes should be sung, [the air Manning the towers while o'er their heads Swart as the smoke from raging furnace hung; [sprung, Now thicker darkening where the mine was Now briefly lightened where the cannon's flare, [was flung, Now arched with fire-sparks as the bomb And reddening now with conflagration's glare, [pare. While by the fatal light the foes for storm pre

While all around was danger, strife, and [the sky,

fear, While the earth shook, and darkened was And wide destruction stunned the listening

ear,

Appalled the heart, and stupified the eys—

D d