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injured manes," replied he; “ for, from their ostrich plumes, and sprinkling from Leonato to the very serving men, I never their vases a complete shower of perfumed behelii such executioners of common sense and refreshing waters upon our heads. and of their own respectability !".

| This device was very beautiful, and I ap. "I hope there are not many pridale || plauded it warmly theaties in the gay world ?" asked I. "Ifll “Luxury is the Duchess's forte," ab. this be a specimen of the dramatic art | served Sir Bingham. “She ought to have amongst ladies and gentlemen, for their been Sultana to the Grand Seignior." dignity's sake, in every respect, I think they ! The acting again began, and my ennui ought to resign the sock and buskin alto returned. Every succeeding scene added gether."

to the dull burlesque of the representation; “I am no approver of private theatricals and happy was 1 to be relieved from the for various moral reasons," returned Mr. || stupid spectacle by, at last, the final dropCourtown; “but as an elegant spectacle, il ping of the curtain at half after twelve I must acknowledge that I have been o'clock. pleased at the dramatic performances of The music in the orchestra instantly be. her Highness the Margravine of A- , gan a full piece, composed for the occaat B- House, at Hammersmith. Her il sion; and the Duke's, Chamberlain aptheatre is not so magnificent as this, but proaching our box, his Grace preceded the acting in some instances is verv just him, and taking Lady Castledowne's hand, and graceful."

begged permission to lead her w the supper While Mr. Coartown spoke the first act room. closed, and the hovering Cupids I had be.l The Earl was my conductor; and Sir fore noticed, moved briskly on the wing, Bingham and Mr. Courtown followed. ascending and descending, flying back

(To be continued.) wards and forwards, fanning the air with

REMARKS ON THE PRONUNCIATION OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE,

AND ON MR. JOHN KEMBLE.

MR. EDITOR,

11 roles can be given, or at least that will be folThe frequent disputes occasioned by Mr. | lowed or long adhered to. The grammarian Jobn Kemble's peculiar mode of pronouncing has no power to make his laus obligatory, vor some words in the English tongue, naturally l are grainmarians agreed what the law ouglit leads the refiective mind to a consideration of to be; and if he possessed the power; it could i be difficulties of the subject, and also to the not be lasting; for, as grammarians pass away still greater difficulty of pronouncing the in the great tide of eternity, succeeding scho. learned languages properly. We no longer Il lars, would assume the same right as their prelisten to the thunder of the Grecian orator decessors to improve their language. These when he roused bis adıniring audience against difficulties arise from the nature of all living the tyrant of Greece, or to the sweet and ani- languages, which, from a thousand causes are mated fow of Tully when he inspired the Ro and will remain continually fuctuating. But man breast with the love of virtue. Wbat || it were endless to pretend to enumerate all the sounds these immortal orators gave to their difficulties wbich are so various and su capri. language, can never more be known; and it is ll cious on this subject, amidst which, it is to possible that if classic greatness could rear its be feared, that soare wbim and affectation awful head froin the mouldering tomb of anti- || have their share. Shakespeare seems to ridi. quity, its ears would be astonished at bearing cule this in his admirable Mercutio, in Romeo its orations from the mouth of a moderu. I and Juliet, who laughs at “these new tuners of • What disputes the grammarians of antiquity accents.” Many years since au actress of some bad on this subject is unknown; tbat the ae merit, Mrs. Bulkeley, endeavoured to new tune cient tougues underwent many changes is more the word oppugn, in her part of Portia, in the certain; it is very possible that they were sub Nerchant of lenice, pronouncing it like oppugno, ject to similar fluctuations with the modern ! in conformity to the Latin, by giving the full languages, and from similar causes.

sound of the g. This violent iupovation proIn the pronuuciation of Euglish no precise voked, as inigut be expected, much remark; and all the witlings that decorate the columns ,, of grace, but the player must find it. As he of vor Newspapers made themselves merry at has every thing to fear he must provide ac. the lady's expence.

cordingly. Every one who pays a shilling in Mr. John Kenible, one of the best actors at a theatre fancies himself a critic; the bar and present, lias seemned in some instances to ma the pulpit are luckily beyond the reach of wifest a fonduess for novelty in his pronuncia. immediate criticism; whatever awkwardness tion. His“ pains and aches," have occasioned or deficiency exist here, yo notice can be taken inuch amụsenient, and lately in his represen of it publicly as at our scenic representation. tation of Cato, the word Rome, which he pro. || Our courts of justice have sometimes deviated noluced Room, like an apartment in 3 house, || from propriety. It was the miserable affectahas provoked some animadversion. We know tion of the time for the fantastic pleader to Mr. Kemble to be a scholar and a man of sense, ll say, my Lud, and your Ludshin, which our but in the latter instance we think bin decid- astonished and indignant ears were the witedly wrong. If we are to pronounce Room, nesses of; and the great and long-venerated why not prui.Junce Rooman? whicb no oneEarl Mansfield pronounced autority for aufboever did; and in regard to this venerated word, rity, no doubt in conformity to the Latin I have found a passage in Shakespeare wbich noun autoritas, autoritatis. But, begging his may instruct us that the single o, rather than || Lordship's pardon, if we must Latinize our the double o, ought to be pronounced. I al. derivatives, why stop at authority? Poete lude to the following scene in the first part of | nacitur fit orator. Hor. Why not restore orator Ilenry VI, where ibe poet introdncis Gloucester to its proper rank in pronunciation ?, and so of and the turbulent prelate (Vinchester, at bigh || the rest. words, in this manner :

At this present moment, some in tbe higher “Glo. And am not I protector, saucy priest? | circles of rank and fashion, endeavour to « Win. And am not la prelate of the church? | deserve well of their country by driving to

« Glo. Yes; as an outlaw in a castle keeps, | Gravenor-square, not to Grosvenor-square, as and useth it to patrouage his theft.

formerly. This is done in exact conformity to “ Wir. Voreverend Gloucester!

a learned etymology in the French language, “ Gla. Thou art reperend touching thy spi- luckily discovered in books of the Euglish ritual function, not thy life.

Peerage. But it is curious to observe, that, “ Win. Rome shall remedy this.

these “new tuners of accents," do not pro« Glo. Roam thither then," &c.

nounce Lord Gravenot, but Lord Gro'r nor; This reply of the Duke's, which evidently I thus avoiding one anomaly and falling into requires the accentuation of the vowel o in Roine and roam, seems to prove, in direct op- |! These remarks, by a reader of observation, position to Mr. Kemble, that the word Rome, I may be easily extended and branched out a in Shakespeare's time, was pronounced from thousand ways; but as dry disquisitions, espe. the Latin Roma; for as to the modern Italian cially grammatical ones, are, however importmode of speaking the word, which has been | ant, not very amusing, we shall conclude this urged, it is by no means conclusive; and any article by observing, that the best, and indeed person who has a tolerable ear for tone will, || the only rule, for the pronunciation of the in a moment, prefer the full natural sound of English language is, to speak according to the the o in Rome.

most approved metropolitan mode. It is in I have found one authority for Mr. Kemble's vain for the rigid grammarian, in his “buckof pains and aches,” in Hudibras, Canto the ram suit,” to lose his time, and waste his secund, page 301, iu the following couplet : learning, in the formation of etymological laws « As no man of his own self catches

for rebellious subjects; custom, a great man “ The itch, or amorous French aches.”

has remarked, will always get the better of

| analogy; and consequently that the public, Here then is a positive testimony that the l having the right, have also the power to make plural substantive aches, was formerly pro their own laws in whatever they reject or nounced as two syllables; but whether the

adopt, the mode of pronunciation being rather sound of the k, or the ch, to produce the hard the offspring of chance tban of design; the or the soft sound in the word prevailed, is not ||

result of tendencies and circumstances over 50 conclusive.

which grammarians never will have any con. , The stage has long been in possession of

troul; and woich, in every living language, some peculiarities in provunciation, but yet can never be fixed, but must, from a thousand we must esteem the stage the best school for

Y causes, ever reinain fiuctuating, accurate, graceful, and energetic pronunciation. Law and ebe pulpit are always in search"

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OAKWOOD HOUSE.-AN ORIGINAL NOVEL.

(Continued from Page 130.)

LETTER VII.

,, ill accommodated. _“But,” added he, « i TO MISS CARADINE, OATLEY MANOR. "hare a spare bed for a friend; the stranger

Oakrood. April 12, 1807. is my friend, and I advise you to take that.” My time, my dear Maria, always glides "be gentleman thanked him, and sat down, ewiftly away; but I have now a high gratifi

| Our supper remained on the table; my father gation added to my usual round of enjoy

added a cup of his mild ale, and his guesi did ments. Mrs. Oakwood, the sister of the

honvur to the cold mutton.

“I do not so much wonder you lost your Squire, has been at the Hall a montb; and being pleased with a landscape in cut paper,

I way,” said my father, “ as that you found the which I had given to Mrs. Simpson, she called

lled way hither; for we are remote from the great to see me. If she liked that, which was one road; and if you came from the south, the of my common ones, you may guess wbat she

at she river is between ” would think of my ruins, and the border of

“ It is,” said the stranger ; " and it was my ent lace round them. She is what is vulgarly surprise at seeing no bridge that made me called an old maid; a term so like a term of first discover I had quitted the road." reproach, that I observe people of good-breed- 11

breed. “ Aud how did you get over?” said my

the father. ing are afraid to pame it. Why should it be i

; 80? If a woman live single from necessity,

«Why, I went a considerable way up its it is possible she may deserve our pity, but i bauks," answered the stranger; “and where I not contempt. If from choice, she cannot be found it broadest I knew it must be shallowest, the object of either. She has certainly fewer and I ventured to cross it.” virtues to exercise. She cannot make a good il “You pulled your bouts off theu ?" said my wife or a good mother; she cannot love, bo- | father; casting his eyes on them, and obnour, and obey her husband, and train up her serving they did not appear soaked with wet. children in the way they should go; but she “My boots!! replied the stranger; “I may be a good daughter, sister, friend, and do not think the river was deeper than my mistress ; and such Mrs. Oakwood is, and bas horse's knees." . heen. She has never been handsome; but her “I beg your pardon," said my father ; « as person is still elegant, and good sense and I saw no whip in your band, I thought you good-nature are so strongly depicted in her bad walked, I am, told it is the fashion for countenance, that they cannot be mistaken.

gentlemen to walk journies and run races, inYou know I never was admitted at the Hall

mitted at the Hall istead of troubliog their horses; and boots are further than the housekeeper's rooin; and as i

now no more a sigy of a man's having been on Mrs. Simpson and I were not kindred souls, I horseback, than a black coat is a sign of a did not often claim even that privilege. But parson.-But, if it is not impertinent, wbat I now go with my father every night, and join have you done with your borse?" .1 the conversation. It seldom is illumjued with! “Good God!" exclaimed the stranger; « if Alights of imagination; but is never worse he cau forgive mel never cap forgive myself! than plain good sense. Besides, I love Mrs. The poor animal hangs on the outside of your Oakwood, and every body does tbat comes gate. Your hospitality made me quite furget within the sphere of her attraction.

bim; but I must decline any further accept. But I have another stranger to introduce to ance of it, if you have not the goodness to my beloved friend. We were sitting one lodge him as well as me. As to my whip, I de. evening by the fire. The night was dark and clare-i never thought of it; but, as you justly rainy. The latch was lifted up, and a gentle- observe, it is not here; and as I do uot recolman entered. He was tall and thin; about lect having it on the road, I must have left it eight-and-twenty years of age ; his face band at the inn where I dined.”. in some, and extremely interesting. He ad My mother apd ( smiled at each other; and dressed himself te my father, said he had lost each, in her own mind, applied our country bis way, and begged to know if there was any saying to the stranger--He would hare lost ina near, where he could lodge. My father his head, if it had been loose. My fatber comsaid there was a public house in the village, mitted his horse to the care of our neighbour, half a mile distant, where he might be very | and returned to have half ap kour's conver.

No. XXIII. Vol. III.-N. S.

sation with his guest, before he went to the Barnsdale. But I fear the intended new road Hall, which he scarcely would have omitted, to Pontfract and Leeds will destroy it." had bis hero, Oliver Cromwell, arisen from “ Then the projectors of it ought to be the shades below to visit him.

fined and imprisoved,” exclaimed my father. “Sir,” said my father, entering, “ your “ They may destroy; but could they make horse has lost a shoe.”

such roads ?-Roads to last seventeen huns “Perhaps," said the gentleman,“ you have dred years. Here, again, the Romans were a blacksmith in your village, wbo can supply wiser than we; in time of peace their conits place to-morrow morning."

quering legions were set to work; they made “Yes;" replied my father, “ we have;" and, them useful. They employed them in making feating himself, added." It is a pity such a these everlasting roads, from one end of the useful noble animal as the horse, should be kingdom to the other. Is it not a shame, Sir, trusted in the hands of such unskilful block that the finest, stoutest young men should be heads. Pray, Sir, do you think the Romans culled from among us, and be maintained for shod their borses?”.

cleaning their own waistcoats and breeches; The gentleman stared." Wby, Sir," said and tbose that ride, looking after their own he, “ I am of opinion they did not; at least borses? They are drones in the hive, who not in the manner we do ; for wbat remains ought to be the best labourers; and we, the of the Appian way is so smooth, that a horse poor bees, after toiling for them, must have shod like ours could not have kept bis feet our wings clipped into the bargain. upon it."

“Tam of your opinion,” replied the gentle:"I always thought them a wiser people man, " that soldiers onghi to work. It has then ourselves," exclaimed my fatber. -" It beeu objected that labour is incompatible with seems that they had one way less of torment the military spirit; but I cannot be convinced ing horses. But pray, Sir, have you seen the that employment would hurt the spirit of a Appian way?"

soldier more than inactivity; or that idleness “ No,” replied the gentleman ; "it has al is the proper school to prepare him for hard ways been the first wish of my heart to visit service. As to the Roman roads, they were Italy, and contemplate the magnificent ruins | certaioly constructed for greater durability of ancient Rome, tbe mistress of the world; I than ours; but it ought to be taken into con. cannot think of them without enthusiasm ; sideration, that they had not heavy loaded wag: but I never had the opportunity."

gons passing continually over them; weights, " We bave Roman roads here in England," which, perhaps, even they would not have said my father ;“ but I bave never seen one.” | been able to withstand.”

“The roads made by the Romans in Bri A servant entered from the Hall. We had tain, a remote conquered province," rejoined

| trespassed half an hour, and my father's the stranger, “ were far inferior to those they puuctuality never varied five minutes in bad near the seat of empire. But even these fifieen years ; Mr Oakwood had sent to know would have endured to eternity if they had if any thing were amiss. We departed with been spared by the mattock and the plough. the servant, leaving to my mother and aunt You have a fine specimen of a small one in the care of waiting on the stranger, and inak. your own county, in perfect preservation, ing his bed. about five miles on this side Doncaster, in an Next morning he breakfasted with us, of angle between the great road and that which course. At breakfast my father asked him to turns off for Wakefield. It is now covered | dine, and at dinner to stay all night. At Mr. with turf, but is exactly in the form the Ro Oakwood's request he was introduced at the mans left it, flat at top, and sloping down Hall; and we find him such a valuable acquisi, steep at each side, and appears to have beention to our society, that we do not repeat our made only of the common limestone and invitations, for fear they should remind him gravel of the country, without any cement.” ll of going; and he, satisfied he is a welcome

“If I was ten years younger,” cried my guest, seems afraid to introduce any thing father, “I would walk on fuot to see it !" that may lead to the subject. He bas been

" It would repay your pains," said the here a week. My mother makes no alteration gentleman." I thought myself fortunate in in our little table on his account. He looks having it pointed out to me. And about upon eating and driaking as the tenure by three miles on this side, you would meet with which he holds his being ; the tax he pays to a still higher gratification; for the same road live. But he despises all idea of its being a appears again, and you may trace it all along gratification. His name is Millichamp. He the western boundary of the common called has a small paternal estate in Kent; but

believe he is chiefly dependent on an uncle, all know the business that brought you into this great colton manufacturer in the neighbour- || country.” hood of Manchester.

The agitation was now his own. He turned Such, my dear, is our new acquaintance. Il pale, and at last articulated" I should, think I may siy, friend; for though friendship | indeed!" may be in general a plant of slow growth, it || “ But it is nevertheless true," said I; “ and has shot up here as in a hot-bed. We cannot Miss Caradine is my dearest friend." be mistaken in the man. His countenance “What then,” he cried, “ must you think has sometimes a sweet placid benevolence : 1 of me?" and sometimes a dignity that almost regards “ That you do not do things in a burry," this lower world with contempt; both whicb, || replied I, smiling. words cannot describe, and art cannot imi “Margaret,” said be, “I value your good tate. When he goes, I shall feel as if i had ll opinion so highly, that I will not forfeit it, lost a brother.

without some explanation ; thongh I own, I You and I, my friend, bave long loved each cannot justify myself. My paternal estate is other with a love passing that of common only two hundred pounds a-year. My father, brothers and sisters, and mine will last while who was a clergyman, educated me at the life shall be spared to your

University of Oxford, intending me for bis MARGARET FREEMAN. own profession, and hoping I might succeed

him in his preferment. He died before I had

taken my degree. His living was given to LETTER VIII.

another; and I, having no particular incliua

tion for the cburch; or rather, inclinations TO MISS CARADİNE.

which disqualified me for it, and knowing my Oakwood, April 26, 1807. income would satisfy my present wants, left My dear Maria, you astonish me!-Mr. || college, and pursue

college, and pursued my studies and inquiries Millichamp the man you so much dreaded!

in my own way." The man who comes to claim the hand of my

l “ ju these studies i might, perhaps, have friend without loving her; without even

grown old, without perceiving it, had not my knowing her; because his uncle has a mort.

uncle roused me. He had no child. He gage of her father's estate!-But it is all one. should consider the son of his sister as his When you know him, you will be sure to love

own. He should experience the pleasure of a him, as he must you, and Mr. Marriot will be

parent in my society; and I should inherit his forgotten. How I beg your pardop for de.

fortune, which was large.'-Such were the taining him here so long !-- But it was not I ;

lures held out to tempt me to sacrifice my it was my father, Mr. Oakwood, every body.

independence. They succeeded; though, if Indeed, i bave been trying just now to send

I kuew my own beart, the last motive was him away; but I do no know whether I shall

the least. I have given up one thing from succeed. I write wretchedly incoherent; but

duty; another from gratitude; another for astonishment bas seized my senses, and ill peace; nothing from interest. In the mean hardly know what I say. I cannot help being

time, reiterated demands on his part, and acfather sorry for Mr. Marriot ; I am sure bis il quiescence on mine, have erected him into a whole heart is yours; and you once returned || tyrant, and degraded me into a slave. His his affection: bot it must be all over now. last requisition is that I should marry Miss

But I meant to give you an account of what | Caradine, the heiress of her father's estate, passed between me and your intended hus- | which is mortgaged to him for half its value. band, -I am strangely low-spirited to-day;

I am a sort of Carlos, in Love makes a Manbut it is the surprise has overcome me.

Books have been my delight. I have regarded After I had read your letter, I took my work your sex, Margaret, as the most beautiful part into the garden, and sitting down in my rustic of the works of the Creator; but I have no hut, I thought I would refect upon it, by my. Al more personal interest in it than in the lily self. Mr. Millichamp entered the garden, and or the rose. I know neither the kind of love seeing me, came and seated himself by me, as nor the degree, wbich was necessary to secure he bad often done before. I looked agitated, my own felicity in the married state, or that I believe; for my beart beat terribly, as I ll of the woman I should vow to cherish! * saw him advance ; and I was determined all “My mind, then, with respect to woman, a sbould out.

sheet of blank paper, might as well receive the “ Mr. Millichamp," said I, “ you would be impression of Miss Caradine as any other; and Hery much surprised if I were to tell you Il i set out, in obedience to my uncle's com

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