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A SIMPLE ANECDOTE.
Amidst the gaiety of a London winter, || Derosity (for such it was even in a place so and the dissipation of a summer watering cheap as the Isle of Mau, to a man posa place, the heart is too often rendered cal. sessing bothing more than a slender half. lous to real sufferings; and if it feels, is ) pay), soon exhausted his fpances, and ere only affected by some fictitious tale of wve. he could receive any advances from his The following little anecdote is a true one, | agent, he was arrested and imprisoned. and has been affectedly recorded by a re Every frown of fortune the veteran bore cent traveller to the Isle of Man, where with the conscious diguity of virtue; and honour, , borne down by misfortune and his beloved daughter's presence irradiated injustice, is too often obliged to seek shel even the gloom of a prison. With the ter amongst those whose depravity and most affecting filial piety she attempted profusion have driven them from their ac. to mitigate his sorrows; and in her tencustomed society.
derness he forgot for a while the injuries A gentleman whose real name we shall of mankind. veil over with that of Harcourt, had long This, bowever, was but a deceitful calm, fought in the service of his country, in for a very few weeks revealed his daugbwhich too he had often bled, without be- ter's shame, and brought the unhappy ing able to rise higher than the rank of father's grey hairs with premature anguish Captain; and although he had often dis.
to the grave. tinguished himself by his cool intrepidity,
The feelings of the soldier and of the yet on the half-pay of this rank was he ob.
man could no longer bear up against disliged to retire, at a period before the gar- honour ; yet even in the moment when he rison battalions afforded an active retreat finally sunk beneath his load of misery, for the gallant, though worn out ve. he would vot leave the supporting arm of teran.
his deluded child, but expired whilst With his pittance of half.pay, he retir. Il praying for a blessing on the unhappy ed to a cheap situation in the Isle of Man, || fair one. where his daughter, young, beautiful, and With a heart torn with repentant anaccomplished attended him.
guish, she accompanied bim to the grave; The beauty of the interesting Eliza was and there too she soon followed him: for softened by a pensive melancholy, arising | her frame was too delicate to support from the perfidy of a wretch, who, under the exquisitely tender and soul-harrowthe most sacred vows, had violated her hoing reflections which alone occupied her nour and peace of mind for ever.
mind. On their arrival they attracted general A few days she languished in silent deattention amongst the gay and thought. | spair, when the moment of her release apJess refugees of the place; his charac- proached, and she sought in a better world ter was known to mapy, esteemed by the that happiness which man had denied her good, and respected even by the worth. l in this. less.
Drop one tear for her sorrows, ye daugh. They were every where received with a
ters of happiness ! - Frown not on her splendid hospitality, which the pride of errors, ye daughters of virtue!-Reflect the gallant veterap endeavoured to return, on her misery, ye sons of riot and dis. and even to emulate ; but this profuse ge. Il sipation !!!
LETTERS ON MYTHOLOGY.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF C. A, DEMOUSTIER.
(Continued from Page 159.)
pose the isle of Delos re-approached the shore, RENOUNCING promiscuous gallantry,
and the Goddess, after awaking, took the road Jupiter at last grew faithful to Juno, and for
to her father Ceus. In this painful and solitary eight whole days burnt for her with all the fire journey she carried her two infants; the sweet of love. In the evening of the eighth day, he burthen did not fatigue her, for when you bewas walking in a lonely wood, admiring his
come a mother you are endowed with strength, own prodigious virtue, when he encountered
To avoid tbe fury of Juno, Latona quicken. two young vestals. These were Latona and ed her steps, and was naturally threatened with Asteria, daughters of Titan Ceus. Jupiter
a milk-fever. Arrived in Lycia near a lake, accosted them: the sisters blushed; but as their she begged some water of the peasants who characters were different, Asteria ran away
were labouring on its shores; they refused it and Latona remained. Iu similar cases it is
to ber, and in revenge she changed them into very difficult to know what to do; for if you
frogs. take to flight beware of a false step! and if you
Escaped at last from the wrath of Juny, stay, something worse may happen. In effect,
Latona peaceably educated her childrenAsteria fell into the sea, and Latona very soon
Proud of acknowledging in them the blood of became a motber.
the Thuuderer, she exalted her offspring above Outraged beyond all patience, Juno raised
those of the veighbouring princes. Tbis pride against ber the serpent Python, who pursued
was very natural to a mother, and Niobé her without relaxation. Latona no where
daughter of Tantalus, possessed the same found refuge from the monster: the Earth
weakness : she preferred her children to those
of the Goddess. Her, riches and, her, power, had promised Juno not to give an asylum to her rival. But while this compact was form.
lendered her, still more insolent, ing, Asteria, whose corse, wandering in the
Enraged at her scoru and vanity, Latona
armed Apollo and Diana with her arrows. waves, had been changed into a floating island
“ Go!" said she to them, by Neptune, which he named Delos, heard
mother. My injury is yours.”. her sister's complaints. Arrived on the borders
Animated with their mother's fury, they of the ocean, Latona could no longer escape from the formidable Python: at that instant
penetrated into the palace of Niobé, and. the isle of Delos floated towards her, received
pierced with their fatal darts, even in her her in its verdant arms, and glided back from
presence, her sons, her daughters, and her
husband. Sinking under the weight of her the shore.
griet, Niobé was changed into a statuę, from, Alone in this asylum, Latona made her
whicb tears are still seen to flow. self a but, of the brauches of the palm-tree.
Such were the sorrowful consequences of Far from faithless men, far from jealous wo
When my Emilia bemen, she lived there in peace. Solitude is
comes a mother, she need not dread a fate like precious to the unhappy; it is for them almost
this. Should ber children possess by hereditary bappiness; but at that sad moment in wbicb
right her features, her heart, her mind, che racking pains waro deceived beauty that she is becoming a mother, in this moment of may love them, she may praise them; no.
austere censor will then blame her for idolizing tenderness and terror, how cruel is it not to
in them all those cbarns wbich to-day we bave one hand upon earth to wipe away the
adore in their mother. -Adieu ! starting tears!
Sach was the distress to which Latona was reduced, but nature assisted ber with strength
LETTER IX. and reflection : she supported herself against the truuk of a tree, and produced Diana. This I must now discourse 10. you of the son of daughter of Jupiter, being scientific by intui Lalona, who was knowu and adored under the tion, successfully aided her mother in bring names ut Apollo, of Pbæbus, aud of the Sun. ing Apollo into the world. Exhausted by Even in his infancy, Apollo was presented at bodily anguish, Latona slept: during her re. the celestial court : Jupiter acknowledged hiid,
No. XIX. Vol. III.-N.S.
and Juno gave him a gracious reception. The with scven cords, beneath the hand of Apollo yogog Deity made the most of this favour, and
emitted the most enchanting barquonies. The became the God of Light. It is Apollo, there. alls of Troy were in succeeding times raised forç, who guides that car which, till I see you by the sound of that divine instrument. Apollo my Emilia, rises tardily from the other hemi- || sung, and the stones were secn moving for. sphere, and when I am with you, returns there wards self-impelled, and arrauging themselves too swiftly. Upon the above-mentioned uc in proper order. It is said that one stone upon casion he took the vame of Phæbus; bui which Apollo had frequently rested his lyre like all fortunate courriers, having abused his rendered a melodious sound whenever it was power, he was driven away by cabal, recalled touched by intrigue, and became wise by experieuce : Daphne, alas! yas insensible to music; she as I am going to shew you.
disdained the sighs and sougs vf Apollo. Some You kuow that Apollo is the God of ibe Fine people say this arose from an excess of virtue; Arts, and it is for that reason, Fable represents il others assert that she was secretly in lure hiin under the figure of a young beardless with the beautiful svepherd Lencippus. And man. Jupiter is somewhat stricken in years; I honestly confess myself of their opiuion. At but his sou in dcfiance of time, preserves the tonder eighteen, when a beauty is deaf to the charm of youth. 1:1 fact, Kings, and even voice of love, be sure she has always a good Gods, grow olid; but talents pever. Apollo reason for her cruelty; and that if she flies had invented medicine: Esculapius, his sou one lover, it is for the sake of another. Upon and his scholar, exercised this miraculous art this priuciple Apollo should have revonnced, upon the earth. Nevertheless, this Esculapius, his pretensions ; but hoping much from conin spite of his divine science, would liave cut a siancy and time, he pursued Daphne for a very bad figure amongst our modern physi whole year. Oficu did he try to arrest ber ciads. He peither went his rounds in a car speed by saying, “Ah, cruel beauty! stay, riage, nor spoke a jargon that nobody under stay in pity; I am regent of Parnassus, I am stands ; besides which, he always cured and the son of Jupiter, I am a poet, pbysician, never killed. Nay, bis abilities weut still chemist, botanist, painter, musiciais, dancer, further, for he reanimated the dead; but these grammarian, astrologer; I am-" Uuwise miracles cost him his life.
Apollo! when next thou wouldst bend the It was whispered to Jupiter that Esculapiusstubbora heart of beauty, speak not of thyself, usurped his prerogative, and the king of Gods but of her cbarms ! struck bim with a thunderbolt.-Desperate A pollo quglit not to have been ignorant of with the loss of his son, Apollo few to the this term of rbetoric, since he was the God of isle of Lemnos, penetrated the ivmost caverus orators. But a-lack-a-day! a poor lover' says. of Vulcan, and pierced with his arrows the all that he thinks, without sufficieutly conCyclops by whom the thunder was forged. | sidering how he says it: disorder is his eloVulcan ran to Olympus, lame as he was, com quence; and when the beart speaks, adieu to plaining bitterly of this violence: Venus took
wit. Thus Daphne was inexorable; but at the side of her husband, persuaded every God | length exhausted with fatigue, and ready to to be of her party, and ceding to their impor | sink, slie implored the aid of the Guds, who tunities, Jupiter cast Apollo down from
changed her into a laurel. heaven.
Apollo plucked a branch from this trce, The son of Latona, despoiled of hi: greatness, made it into a crown for his bead, and wears was reduced to keep the Ancks of Admetus, it to this day. He is said to distribute simiand found in this sweet and peaceable life, ibat lar wreaths to Genius. The laurel had two happiness whicb he vainly sought in the peculiar viriues; the one was that of preservcelestial court. !Tandering all day through ing the wearer from the thunderbult; the meadows enamelled with fowers, t bis ingerious other, that of disclosing truth in dreams, to shepherd made the arts flourish in the bosom such persons as placed its leaves under their of study: these brother's of Love are the children of Leisure and Solitude. But the Apollo wept the loss of Daphne. He was, talent wbich soon became inost dear to him, seated under the shade of that fatal laurel was that of music. He saw Daphne; and then wbich hid her from his view, when Clitia be invented the Lyre, to sing his passion. came thither to walk. Clitia, daughter of When we love truly, oh! how feeble seems the Orchamp, king of Babylon, was not critically expressiou of sight, speech, music, or postry! bautiful, but she had the delicate grace of a This lyre, composed of a tortoise-ebell strung young and languishing flower; she save
Apollo, blushed, and cast down her eyes : tia, struck with terror and remorse, took to Apollo did the same. By turns they gazed fight. on each other, their eyes met, their emo The next day brought Apollo to the wood. tion increased to agitation. From tbat in- | He saw no person; he advanced with a passtant an avowal was superAuous; their hearts sionate sigh, and darted his eager eyes into had spoken in a look, and no longer needed the depths of that desert sad silent giove. the aid of words.
He called Leucothea ; Echo alone replied to The hour of happin's; fies rapidly; night his voice. Hardly had he set bis foot on the approached and they must separate; they ex tomb of Leucothea than lamentable accents changed vows to meet again the next day at ascending from the ground addressed him in the same spot near the laurel." What!” these sarl words:you exclaim, near this very laurel! under “Stay! respect the ashes of her who perisha those branches through which Daplıne yeted because she loved thee too well. Thy feet breathey?"-Yes, my Emilia, so evanescent is now press that heart opon which thy head that passion which usurps the naine of love; hath rested; they trample upon those charnis it is only a pure and spiritual sentiment, which which but li!l yesterday knew no other cabinds the soul of the lover to the disembodied resses than those of Zephyr. Oh, remember spirit of his beloved; and perhaps there are as Leucothea! to soften her punishment come few able to inspire as calculated to feel it. sometimes to the spot where she dwells to
The following day Clitia prepared to keep nourish thy grief; then shall ber etherial her promise; but as love's first steps are al spirit mix with the air thou inhalest, and ways timid, she prevailed on her sister, Leu descend with thy breath to the bottom of thy cotbea, to accompany her; this indiscretion | heart !". had most fatal consequences. Clitia was more I will not attempt to paint the state of tender, but Leucothca more animated; the Apollo. He was motionless, like a mortal one was fair, the other was a brunette. The struck by lightning; but at last his tears brunette soon burned for the lover of her found way, and softened the agony of his sister, and less bashful than she, went one day grief. These tears moistening the earth, pe. alone to the place of meeting. At first Apollo netrated to the body of Leucothea, and reevinced surprise, but surprise was shortly stored it to animation. She re-appeared, but succeeded by pleasure, and Daphne, the mute under a new form, and her lover saw a tree witness of this scene, saw with horror that in arise, from which precious balms are exevery species of infidelity it is only the first tracted. step whicb costs any thing. Clitia, in search Meanwhile Clitia, tormented by remorse, of her sister, came upon the faithless pair at wandered towards the tomb of her sister: a very unlucky juncture. Suddenly indigna at sight of Apollo she stopped. Sorrow and tion and fury seized that heart formerly so resentment by turns swayed her bosom; but gentle.
the God retreated from lier with disdain, and She flew to the palace of her father, by that blow terminated her punishment. A revealed to him the crime of Leucothea, and woman endures outrage and fury from a conducted him to the retreat of the lovers. Al beloved object, but she sinks under conthat instant they were exchanging adieus; tempt. Leucothea mixed tears with her kisses, and Clitia, in expiring, became a feeble and smiles with her tears, as she repeated that pliant plant, the flower of whichi, incessantly they should meet again on the ensuing day. turning towards the sun, seems yet to follow Casting a timid glance around, she at length and implore her lover. It is from this cirhastened away with a heart palpitating be cumstance that in France we give it the name tween fear and pleasure : at the entrance of of tournesol. the wood she met ber father. At this sight Adieu, Emilia, thou art my sun, I the fond she remained mute and motionless; and the flower whose leaves flourish or fade as thos terrible Orchamp, taking her disorder for the recedest or drawest nigh. proof of his dishonour, buried ber alive under the very laurel her crime had outraged. Cli
(To be continued.)
THE MIRROR OF FASHION.
IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM A GENTLEMAN OF RANK AND TASTE, TO A LADY
not entirely confioed to our Saxon ancestors; HAVING detained your Ladyship so long we find from authentic documents, that Maho. in the East, where ihe splendour of fashion's | met, the Arabian impostor, by the applicamost gorgeous courts has put forth all its mag tiou of al henna, or Cyprus indigo, and the nificence to attract your stay, what can I ad-herb al catam, stained his hair and beard of a vance to induce you to turu your gaze west. shining red, or rather, I should suppose, of a ward? How shall I be able to draw you from gold colour, that he might seem to have carried the perfumed borders of the Nile, from the off some of the splendours of the heavens he musky plaius of Arabia, from the rose-crowned | had visited in the changed hue of his locks. heights of Palestine, to tread with me the This was a very poor substitute for the cecold heaths of Anglo-Saxon Britain, to enter lestial light, which, on bis descent from the barsh confines of her wintry balls ? Sinai, beamed from the face of the Jewish
it is to the land of your ancestors, fair | lawgiver. Countess, that I summon you; and let that But not to put too great a force on the sacred plea be sufficient to render the soil native delicacy of my fair correspondent, by dear, their customs respected, their fashions detaining her long in the dressing-room of the interesting
Saxon gentlemen, I will, without farther I shall not put so great a demand on your delay, hand her into the tyring-chambers of patience, as to detaiu you in the wardrobe of the Anglo-Saxon ladies. And it gives me do the Anglo-Saxon beroes ; suffice it to say, that small satisfaction to assure my Urania, that the series of their garments is in this order : she will feel no circumstance to excite a wish A linen shirt; woollen, next the skin, so far to retreat. She will find the most engaging from being deemed a winter comfort by our indications of modesty in the habits of her hardy forefathers, was never worn but as a pe- | fair fore-mothers, without the least tincture of nance enjoined by the canons. The tunic | barbarism, and without the proneness to covered the shirt, and its shape was not much change, which so forcibly characterizes the inunlike it; but its materials were of a rougher | constancy of our present fashionable females. texture, and coloured according to the taste Content with simplicity, which is rarely in. of the wearer. Then came the surcoat ; a gar- elegant, they sought no variety in their garment sometimes reaching to the feet, andments but what the beautiful foliage of emornamented with fringe or embroidered hems. | broidery might yield. Ornaments of ibis kind The cloak or » antle followed. Young men depended entirely upon the skill of the ladies; wore it clasped on the right or left shoulder; and testify, by the gradual indications of imand the old generally on the breast. Its folds provement and taste, that the elegant doand management were as capable of extra- mestic employment of the needle was holden ordinary grace, as the present movement of a | in deserved respect. theatrical bero's robes on the stage. Head As it has been proved that the shirt was au dresses the Anglo-Saxons despised. Nature indispensable part of dress with the men, we furnished them with fine hair; and parting it cannot besitate to conclude that the women in the middle, like the head of Raphael, they | of these primitive ages were equally tenacious were combed smoothly dowu, anu poated on of decency in their apparel. I must, however, the shoulders in long, bright, and luxuriant be coustrained to confess, that I no where find tresses. But strange to tell, these beaux of ll in our Anglo-Saxon antiquities any mention the eighth century were not always satisfied of this modern raiment, whether by the name with the native hues of their redundaut locks. of shift, or the now obsolete appellation of It was not enough for them that, unadulter.
smock; but we have a hint of it in a certain ated with the odious intermixture of powder, || garment which the ladies of this æra denomi. they should display hair of nature's own nated a tunic, or under-vest. beautiful tints of auburn, faxen, amber, raven, Tbis part of the female apparel bears a near and all the fine varieties of brown; oo, they likeness to the long tunic of the men. Its must emulate sea and sky, and sometimes io sleeves usually descends to the wrists, and are Hulge their fancy by dipping their heads into 1 plaited in delicate folds. It was girdled round blue dye, and sometimes into green.
the waist, was long and Rowing as frequently This absurd violation of true taste is a whim
to cover the feet. It is represented to haro