Page images

secured both to mother and daughter his favour and pro heavy; but morning, noon, and night, they shone the tection."

same, and conveyed the same impression to the beholder, But we should say something of the incidents.

viz. that they were eyes that had a look--not like the look

of Sterne's monk, beyond this world-but a look into all They turn upon the fortunes of a young and beau things on the face of this world. Her other features bad tiful girl, Miss St. Clair, the daughter by a mesalliance, nothing remarkable in them, but the ears might evidently of one of the brothers of the Lord Rossville we have

be classed under the same head with the eyes-they were described, and the heiress to the family estates. After

something resembling rabbits-long, prominent, restless,

vibrating ears, for ever listening and never shut by the the death of her father, she resides in the mansion of powers of thought. Her voice had the tone and inflexions Rossville, where she falls in love with her cousin Col. of one accustomed to make frequent sharp interrogatories. Delmour. The story is then filled with descriptions of

She had rather a neat compact figure, and the tout enthe society at Rossville, and the characters of her mo

semble of her person and dress was that of smartness.

Such, though not quite so strongly defined, was the sort of ther's vulgar family. These, as we before observed,

impression Miss Pratt generally made upon the beholder." are very clever. There is a Miss Pratt—a sort of

The Blacks-her mother's family—are beautifully Busy-body in petticoats-who is always meddling

done. Every body must at one period or another of with every one's affairs, disturbing the common peace

their lives have been thrown into such an intimacy, of society, by her eternal cbatter, and always illustra

and they will recognize the fidelity of the picture. We ting her opinions by referring to her friend « Anthony

know nothing superior to it in the same style of wriWhite." She is often amusing, but in the end becomes

ting. We have no room for more than a mere chance as tiresome to the reader, as she must have been to the

description of Miss Lilly's Album :unhappy persons who were condemned to her com

* At length, Miss Lilly produced her Album for the pany :

amusement or admiration of her cousin, and turned over * At length Miss Pratt appeared, shaking the straw | page after page, emblazoned with miserable drawings of from her feet, and having alighted, it was expected that || dropsical Cupids with blue aprous, doves that might have her next movement would be to enter the house; but they

passed for termagants--stout calico roseg-heart's ease that knew little of Miss Prat, who thought all was done when was eye-sore, and forget-me-nots that ought to have been she had reached her destination. Much yet remained to wasbed in the waters of Lethé. All these had, of course, be done, which she would not trust either to her companion | appropriate lines, or lines that were intended as such. or the servants. She had, in the first place, to speak in a Beneath a rose, which bore evident traces of having been very sharp manner to the driver, on the condition of his washed with a sponge, was written in a small die-away chaise and horses, and to throw out hints of having him

band, scarcely visible to the naked eye, Cowper's pretty severely punished, inasmuch as one of his windows would verses, not let down, and she had almost sprained her wrist in • A rose had been washed, just washed in a shower, &c.' attempting it-aud another would not pull up, though the wind was going through her head like a spear; besides

|| A bunch of heart's-ease, which might have served for a having taken two hours and a quarter to bring them nine

Il sign-post, was emblematic of a sonnet to a violet, bemiles, and ber watch was held up in a triumphant manner

umphant manner Il ginning, in proof of her assertion. She next made it a point to see Sweet modest flower that lurk'st unseen,' &c. with her own eyes every article pertaining to her (and they were not a few) taken out of the chaise, and to give with

But the forget-me-nots had called forth an original effusion her own voice innumerable directions as to the carrying,

addressed to Miss Lilly B., as follows: stowing, and placing of her bags, boxes, and bundles. All

• Forget thee, sweet maid ?--ah! bow vain the request,these matters being settled, Miss Pratt then accepted the

Thy image fond memory has stamped on my heart; arm of her companion, and was now fairly on her way to

And, while life's warm pulsex beat high in my breast, the drawing-room. But people who make use of their

Thy image shall ne'er from that bosom depart! eyes have often much to see even between two doors, and in her progress from the hall door to the drawing-room

• The moon she is up, and the sun he is down; door, Miss Pratt met with much to attract her attention.

The wind too is hush'd, and silent's the rill; True, all the objects were perfectly familiar to her, but

The birds to their little nests long since bare flown; a real looker, like a great genius, is never at a loss for But when will forget my sad bosom to thrill ! subject-things are either better or worse since they saw * Forget thee !--ah! who that has ever beheld them last-or if the things themselves should happen to be

Thy eye of sky-blue, and thy locks of pure gold, the same, they have seen other things either better or

Thy cheekworse, and can, therefore, either improve or disprove them. Miss Pratt's head, then turned from side to side a thousand "6 Oh! you really mustn't read that,' cried Miss Lilly, times as she went along, and a thousand observations and || putting her hand affectedly on the place; it is only some criticisms about stair carpets, patent lamps, hall chairs, nonsense of Lieutenant O'Brien's. slab tables, &c. &c. &c. passed through her crowded brain.” 6 • Pray allow me to proceed,' said Gertrude, a little

"Miss Pratt appeared to be a person from whom nothing | amused at the wretchedness of the rhymes. could be hid. Her eyes were not by any means fine eyes ".0, indeed! I can't,' said Miss Lilly, affecting to be they were not reflecting eyes--they were not soft eyes ashamed. they were not sparkling eyes—they were not melting eyes "* • I assure you I am in great pain for your cheek,' said --they were not penetrating eyes ;-neither were they | Gertrude; I am afraid it must have swelled in order to restless eyes, nor rolling eyes, nor squinting eyes, nor rhyme to be held.” prominent eyes-but they were active, brisk, busy, vigi " Oh no! I assure you it wasn't my cheek but his heart lant, immoveable eyes, that looked as if they could not be that swelled," said Miss Lilly in perfect simplicity. surprised by any thing-not even by sleep. They never .* • The Captain has a great genius for poetry,' said Mrs. looked angry or joyous, or perturbed, or melancholy, or Black.

not let downshed, inasmuch as out hints of having him

6. Very great,' said Miss Lilly, with a gentle sigh. •I || ones in the South. At the end of the fashionable seaam Icertain that address to the moon we saw in the news. Ilson she returns to Scotland, and here begins a very paper was his writing.' 6. "It's very well for people to write poetry who can't

pathetic part of the story. Lady Rossville is discovered afford to buy it,' said Nliss Bell, with a disdainful toss; not to be then iece of the late Earl, but the daughter • the Major has bought a most beautiful copy of Lord || of Lewiston, an American, palmed upon the RossByron's works, bound in red Morocco-rather too fine for ll ville family, and usurping the title and estates. The reading, I think; but he said he meant it to lie upon my l decortinn af hor vorher own misery--and the sofa-table, so I couldn't find fault.'

“ • To be sure, Bell, as you say, it's a better business to || kindness of Lyndsay-who had loved her in silence buy poetry than to write it," said Mrs. Black.

during her prosperity, and now protected her in ad. “ Gertrude bad read and could appreciate Petrarch and

versity-are all most powerfully and affectingly de. Metastatio; it may, therefore, be conceived, how much she admired Lieutenant O'Brien's effusions.

scribed. Lyndsay marries her at last-and she is " There is nothing more worth reading,' said Miss like the heroines of all novels--very happy. Lilly, as her cousin continued to turn over the leaves of the To the remarks already made we have nothing to book."

|| add. “The Inheritance " would not detract from the Miss Lilly's correspondence is still more amusing

credit of any name which has distinguished itself in than her Album. Her sister Bell, who marries Major

|| the literature of fiction. Waddell, is an exquisite specimen of vulgar gentility, whilst her younger sister Ann, is as beautiful an exam- | Mementos, Historical and Classical, of a Torer through part ple of delicate attachment and religious resignation. of France, Switzerland, and Italy, in the Years 1821,

The even course of Miss St. Clair's life, is conside 1822, 8c. London: Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, 8vo. rably disturbed by the determination of her uncle to

1824. dispose of her hand according to his own will, without

(Continued from p. 147.) any reference to her inclinations. This is in the common style of novels, but it gives occasion for some animated Nearly half the first volume is filled with the descripwriting, and some interesting incidents. The young tion of Rome, and though by no means well done, is lady prefers love and poverty to £20,000 a year, and still interesting from the nature of the subject. Our an indifferent husband.

author rarely notices the manners of the people, but The consternation of Lord Rossville at this pre there is a lively account of the Roman Carnival, a part ference, and his measures, are amongst the most amu- || of which we will quote: sing parts of the volumes. The object of her affections | 66 There is perhaps, more noise in the Carnival of Naples, is however a libertine, spendthrift, gambler, and fortune | more splendor at Rome; particularly in seeing the entire hunter. But Miss St. Clair's miseries are not confined || range of the Corso, a street a mile long, hung at almost to the mere fact of her course of love being made

every balcony, and window, with tapestry, damask and silk.

The gravity generally prevailing, is now thoroughly thrown uneven. There is a mysterious stranger, who breaks | off; all ranks seem proportionately exhilarated, and all disin upon her retirement, and alarms her by the violent || tinctions levelled during this little, fleeting, season of poaddresses, and fearful insinuations. His name is Lew. || pular diversion; this relic of the Roman Saturnalia. Some iston-the husband of her nurse, and to his dark and ||

and to his dark ond Il restraints, however, are imposed; since all classes are forobscure schemes, and demands for money, Mrs St. || religion or government.

bidden to assume any dress, or character, appertaining to

. Clair lends herself, with a strange consciousness of " Yesterday was the last, and consequently the best day. some overwhelming necessity. Out of these two inci- || Among the drollest of the equipages was a car fantastically dents, the love of Col. Delmour, and the interference

draped, wherein was Hecate, the Furies, and Witches upon

broomsticks; another was decorated with boughs, and foof Lewiston, springs the interest of the story.

liage; cages of screeching crows were hung up in it, and it Her uncle dies, and Miss St. Clair becomes Countess was filled by the vilest musicians, with the harshest instruof Rossville. Lewiston is supposed to be dead also, but || mente, pretending a fine concert, singing humorously to even now she is controlled by some fearful influence of

please the populace, then applauding themselves, and

calling vehemently, according to Italian custom, for • Il her mother, and her life is one of vexation and unhap

Maestro, Il Maestro; another car was filled with cats; piness. She does not live quite so amicably with her followed by one with dogs, that is, people thus masked. lover as she had hoped, and all her friends are opposed “ Among the drollest of the pedestrians are the men in to the match. At this part of the story, the author has

women's clothes, their whiskers, beard, and mustachios

mingling with ladies' curls, love locks, caps, ribbons, given too large a scope to the talent for dialogue which

plumes, and petticoats. It is really humorous to see some he manifestly possesses, and the narrative is greatly of these fellows mimicking a mincing gait, a Paris poke, impeded. A similar objection might be made to the and all a lady's ogling, simpering, pretty smiles, and winrepetition of the same scenes and discussions between

ning ways. In some, the disguise is purposely as plain as

possible; in others, it is too well concealed; and assignaLady Rossville and her lover, which become very

tions are made which certain folks may be so credulous as tiresome. But the scene changes :—the lady and her to keep. suite leave Scotland for London, where she plunges

" The grandees parade in disguise in their carriages,

while their coachmen on the box, as mimic ladies' maids, into the wildest round of gaiety and dissipation, for

sport veil, or fan, and show their silken hose, and tapering getting her friends in the North, and making no new || calf, to please the gaping crowd.

“ Thus go carriages, people, characters, masks, dominos, ll the folks get hungry, and begin to think of dinner; the all pell-mell, hurly-burly, and sugar-plum pelting each carriages move away, and I with the rest." other; rich and poor, all confounded, and mixed up togegether, the foot paths choked up by chairs, and their occu To those who have never travelled in the countries piers; servants and masters, maids and men, familiar with

our author describes, and who have never read any they know not who. Masks are privileged to accost any one; they may get into a carriage, or enter a box at the

| account of them, his book will no doubt be full of theatre; they may offer or take confetture, and wit, and

information. To those who have done either, it will manners only or the want of it, can betray the character, not be very interesting. With this equivocal praise, we and tell us who it is.

must dismiss it to the reader's own judgment. " Now, as at Naples, the storm of plums, and comfits, rains and rattles all around; above, below, in front, in rear, Dark showers of comfits fly from foes to foes,

| Poetic Vigils. By BERNARD Barton. London: Baldwin, Now here, now there, the tide of combat flows,

Cradock, and Joy, 1824. Thus white with dust the mimic masks appear, From chalk, and plums, and old woman charioteer ; ALTHOUGH there has been poetry enough in the The dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise,

world, which, from its frigidity, tameness, and insipidity, And roll in smoking volumes to the skies.

I might with great fairness be termed quaker poetry, yet Pope's Iliad, b. v. and vi.

the poetry of a real Quaker is an uncommon thing. Scott When, on a sudden, a distant cannon thundering on the ear, of Amwell--a pretty writer in his day-is the only bids prepare for other fun, and the carriages begin to quit

one we remember of any note. The reason of this the Corso;-a second thunder, at an interval of a quarter of an hour, must find the central passage clear; a troop of

poetical infertility is to be found in the unimaginative heavy cavalry march slowly down the street, and the pe sectarianship, and the cold self-denying habits of life, destrians form in closer line; again the cavalry appear, and which belong to the sect. They are dead to all the higher trot down ; the infantry now make the passage quite clear, influences of life, and alive to none but ordinary feelings the people wedge in behind, and the cavalry, for the last

and passions. Poetry, with them, is not merely a time, charge at full gallop down the entire Corso, while every eye is strained to see the approaching Horse Race. gew-gaw in itself, but the poet is a backslider, whose

“ Unlike an English course, these animals obey no riders, sin ought to be expiated by all sorts of penal inficnor know no jockeyship, they are free, and left to them

tions. How Mr. Barton may stand with the brethren selves, only having little spurs, and stimulants attached, which as the faster they run so the more do these prick

we know not: our business is to enquire how he ought and urge yet greater speed. They passed me with such to stand with the public. Without exaggeration we tremendous celerity that I could hardly form any opinion may declare our opinion that he is entitled to very about them, particularly as I was in mask, but I understood

high praise. His poetry is of a gentle and peaceful that an English mare had won the race. “Though the animals are certainly stung to the course by

cast, as that of a quaker ought to be. There is no these devices of man, yet, in seeing them thus at liberty,

dark working of the passions : no sounding the depths I had hoped the creatures tore along the smoking course of the human heart: no profound and subtle analysis animated, more than their owners, with a free and passion

of the emotions, feelings, influences “ that flesh is heir ate desire to pass each other, and outstrip the winds; but such a sight will never again please me, for I find that these

to :" no lofty flights of the imagination :-all is quiet, spurs and goads are merciless, and cruel, subjecting this modest, simple, and engaging. Mr. Barton adds great noble animal to torture; and that they have been known, sensibility to every kind of moral and physical beauty, in their extremity of pain, to break all bounds, and run for and he pours out his feelings in a strain of sweet and miles and miles, thus goading themselves to madness, and exhaustion.

fascinating poetry. The following prefatory sonnet is " This over, the tumultuous crowd again break bounds, worth quoting: and it being now dusk, and the last night, every body lights a wax-candle, a flambeau, or a bundle of tapers, &c. while

" The springs of life are failing, one by one, the fun consists in every one trying, and jumping, and

And Age, with quicken'd step, is drawing nigh; puffing, and whiffing, to blow out his neighbour's candle.

Yet would I heave no discontented sigh, The street becomes a blaze and light; some sit, some

Since cause for cold ingratitude is none. walk, and some stand with their lighted flambeaux; the If slower through my veins life's tide may run, carriages also blaze, and those inside keep up the brightest The heart's young fountains are not wholly dry ; flame they can. Any fun is admissible ; your own candles

Though evening clouds shadow my noontide sky, are blown out, you light them again at your neighbour's,

Night cannot quench the Spirit's inward sun! and blow out his in grateful return; incessantly some one

Once more, then, ere the eternal bourn be pass'd, s jumping up before, or behind, or about one; but hand

Would I'my lyre's rude melody essay: kerchiefs are the readiest way, and those who tie them to a

And, while amid the chords my tingers stray, long stick do a deal of execution.

Should Fancy sigh- these strains may be its last!' " The effect is very picturesque down the long range of

Yet sball not this my mind with gloom o'ercast, the Corso, amid the throngs of the people, and as the lights

If my day's work be finish'd with the day!” and shadows, flit upon the tapestry, the silks, and damasks, that are waving from every window and balcony, and also

There is a beautiful expression of feeling in the as the carriages filled with masks, and ladies, slowly pace || verses entitled, “ A Poet's Thanks," but it is too long the street, thus illuminated inside and out. The row and for insertion here. The ballad « Bishop Hubert," is merry tumult is heightened by the incessant shouting and line

ll in a different strain, and of a more extractable plaudits of the people; the fun and ecstacies are at their height, and gradually decline; the candles are burnt out,

66 'Tis the hour of even now,
When, with pensive, thoughtful brow,
Seeking truths as yet unknown,
Bishop Hubert walks alone.
Fain would he, by earnest thought,
Nature's secret laws be taught;
Learn the destinies of Man,
And Creation's wonders scan.
From these data he would trace
Hidden mysteries of Grace,
Dive into a deeper theme,
Solve Redemption's glorious scheme.
So he flings aside to-day
Mitre's pomp, and crosier's sway,
Seek: the desert's silent scene,
And the marge of ocean green.
Far he has not roam'd-before,
On that solitary shore,
He has found a little child,
By its seeming play beguild.
In the drifted, barren sand
It has scoop'd, with baby hand,
Small recess, in which might float
Sportive Fairy's tiny boat.
From a hollow shell, the while,
See ! 'tis filling with a smile,
Pool as shallow as may be
With the waters of the Sea.
Here the smiling Bishop ask
• What can mean such infant task?'
Mark that infant's answer plain,
• 'Tis to hold yon mighty main !'
• Foolish trifler!!-Hubert cries,
• Open, if thou canst, thine eyes;'
Can a shallow, scoop'd by thee,
Hope to hold yon boundless sea ?
• Know'st thou not its space transcends
All thy fancy comprehends ?-
Ope thy childish eyes, and know
Fathomless its depths below.'
Soon that child-on ocean's brim,
Opes its eyes, and turns to Him!
Well does Hubert read its look,
Glance of innocent rebuke.
While a voice is heard to say
• If the pool, thus scoop'd in play,
Cannot hold yon mighty sea,
Vain must thy researches be.
• Canst thou hope to make thine own
Secrets known to God alone?
Can thy faculties confined
Bishop Hubert turns away,
He has learnt enough to-day;
Learnt how little Man can know
While a Pilgrim here below.
Reader! wouldst thou wiser be,
Let this truth suflice for thee,
Seek not what is sought in vain,
Knowledge by OBEDIENCE gain.
Be presumption's sin abhorr'd;
For the secrets of the Lord,
If reveal'd to Mortals here
Dwell with those who LOVE, and rear!”

“Flowers” and “A Day in Autumn," have been published before. They are the longest and the best pieces in the volume. This is pretty :

66 The summer is over,

The Autumn is past,
Dark clouds round us hover,

Loud whistles the blast;
But clouds cannot darken, nor tempests destroy,
The soul's sweetest sunshine, the heart's purest joy.

The bright fire is flinging

Its splendour around;
The kettle, too, singing,

And blithe is its sound:
Then welcome in evening, and shut out the day,
Its soul-fretting troubles-Oh! tempt not their stay.

Of care, and of sorrow,

Each day brings its share;
From eve let us borrow

Fresh patience to bear :
And the clouds that pass o'er us by day shall look bright
In the gentle effulgence of evening's warm light.

Our days are devoted

To trial and toil;
To conflicts unnoted;

And scanty their spoil :
No respite for feeling has day-light made known,
But the quiet of evening may still be our own.

Our path is no bright one

From morning till eve;
Our task is no light one

Till day takes its leave:
But now let us gratefully pause on our way,
And be thankfully cheerful, and blamelessly gay.

We'll turn to the pages

Of History's lore;
Of Bards and of Sages

The beauties explore;
And share, o'er the records we love to unroll,
The calm feast of reason, the flow of the soul.'

To you, who have often,

In life's later years,
Brought kindness to soften

Its cares and its fears--
To you, with true feeling, your Poet and Friend
The joys you have heighten'd may fondly commend.

When sorrow has sadden'd,

Your smiles shed their light;
When pleasure has gladden'd,

You made it more bright:
And with you Winter Evenings enjoyments can bring
More dear to your Minstrel than Mornings of Spring."

We remarked that quakers were not very quick 10 the higher influences of feeling—but there is an excep. tion to the remark in the following tribute to the me. mory of Mary Dyer, one of the early worthies and martyrs in the society of Quakers :• We too have had our Martyrs. Such wert Thou,

Illustrious Woman! though the starry crown Of martyrdom have sate on many a brow,

In the World's eye, of far more wide renown. Yet the same spirit grac'd thy sameless end,

Which shone in Latimer, and his compeerg Upon whose hallow'd memories still attend

Manhood's warm reverence, Childhood's guileless tears.

Well did they win them: may they keep them long! mark of respect would become the English age, in the Their names require not praise obscure as mine;

nineteenth century! Nor does my Muse their cherish'd memories wrong,

However grateful it may be to speak thus of the distinBy this imperfect aim to honour thine.

guished dead, it behoves us to be careful of speaking of the Heroic Martyr of a sect despis'd!

living-for praise may be made to wound, as well as cenThy name and memory to my heart are dear:

sure. Or Messrs. Hurst and Robinson, the successors to

this house, then we will only say, that they have thus far Thy fearless zeal, in artless childhood priz'd, The lapse of years has taught me to revere.

maintained the reputation of its founder, and we hope that

success will proceed with the munificence with which they Thy Christian worth demands no Poet's lay,

alike support the living talent of that British school, which Historian's pen, nor Sculptor's boasted art:

in the higher department of painting, first displayed its What could the proudest tribute these can pay

powers on the memorable walls of the Shakspeare Gallery! To thy immortal spirit now impart?

The prints of Mr. Daniell so truly describe the magniYet seems it like a sacred debt to give

tude of the waves, that characterize the perilous and arThe brief memorial thou mayet well supply;

duous navigation of the seas off the Southern promontory Whose life display'd how Christians ought to live;

of Africa, that they cannot be beheld without emotion by Whose death-how Christian Martyrs calmly die.”

those who have experienced a voyage to the East, or with

out associations of the tenderest interest by those, whose With these observations we dismiss Mr. Baiton's || loved friends s parated by the pathless waste, know that book. His “ Vigils” have been manifestly held in

the same perils must await them, ere they return to their

native home! the spirit of true poetical devotion, and have been Those seated at the tranquil hoard of domestic enjoyment, visited with the inspirations of the muse,

love to hold discourse upon the appalling fate that awaits the voyager over the wide world of waters, and aided by pictorial scenes like these, will shudder at imaginary dan

gers; whilst the philosopher, exposed to the real peril, OFF THE CAPE. A MAN OVER-BOARD. lashed to the creaking mast, ascends the liquid mountain,

and glides down the vast abyss on the other side, rises and

descends again, over still increasing heights, and glories, As long as we can remember any thing of art, we have in thus beholding the wonderous works of Him who rules heard it asserted that no marine painter, however great the deep. his talent, had ever yet been able to produce an adequate The painter, seeking nature in her grandest mood in idea of the immensity of a wave in a gale off the Cape. seas like these, grasps his card, and tries to mark the We, however, have lived to the period, when our ingenious scene; even, whilst, perhaps, the oldest seaman doubts the com peers develope faculties, that outstrip all former opi- ll safety of the bark, and revels in the thought of hereafter nion, and perform with ease, that which was not merely sitting in his study, and giving to the world a picture of a thought to be difficult, but even impossible. In our last storm! number, we offered an opinion upon the meritorious disco It is not likely that the “ fresh water sailors" will feel the very of the exhibition of panoramic views. At first these full force of the truth of these representations; for the elescenes promised little more than correct topographic repre ment, as we are told by experienced mariners, is far ditiersentations of particular places, on a larger scale than pic

ent in its appearance in these extensive seas, to what we tures had been painted. The public could not possibly | behold adjacent to our more tranquil shores, both in colour have contemplated, what soon resulted from the experi- l) and in form. The depth, extent, and clearness of the ment—that such scenes should entirely deceive the sense waves are very unlike to those which characterize that perof seeing, and assume the effect and local circumstance of turbed Bay of Biscuy, with its short seas—the British seareality! We are led to these remarks from having two man's hate. prints before us, describing the awful and sublime pheno “ The Indiaman in the North Wester,” is described with a menon, the raging deep, in that vast commotion, that truth of circumstance, that could only result from experi" would confound and swallow navigation up."

mental knowledge. For although a painter of talent could The first, a scene of the Cape-a Man Over-board. compose a fine picture of a storm at sea, it would not satisfy he second, a North Wester off the Cape of Good Hope. he eve of the experienced navigator. The vessel is runthese are engraved in aquatint, by W. Daniell, R. A. from ning before the wind, onder her courses, a main topsail and pictures painted by himself. One recently published, the gib, and in the moment of being overtaken by a sea. The other within the last week, by Messrs. Hurst and Robinson. subject is wrought entirely to the feeling of mariners, and

Of these liberal publishers, we cannot speak too highlv. Il as a work of art, it is no less ac ceptable to the conna as worthy successors to that house which, for so many years, for its simplicity and truth. has been identified with the arts. We ueed not mention, that “ The Indiaman off the Cape,'' is a composition of equal established by the late John Boydell, to whom the coun merit, and creates still greater interest, from an episode, try, and the school of art, which does honour to the age. which, at the first glance, excites terror and calls forth all are so highly indebted for his individual exertions in the our sympathy. A sailor has fallen overboard, and drifting cause of painting and engraving. Arts, which without from the ship, is catching at a spar. The boat has been hyperbole, may be said, next to the royal countenance and manned, and hoisted out, and is gallantly dashing through support they deriv

derived from our late sovereign of revered |the waves to pick him up. The fate of the whole 18 fear memory, owe almost every thing to the protecting auspices precarious. "A poultry coop, in the emergency, has been of a Lord Mayor of London!

ihrown out, and is floating near the struggling sailor. Our The school of engraving, may be said to have been feelings, too, are excited for the devoted geese, who are created by the never ceasing exertions and public spirit seen thrusting their necks through the railing of the coop. of Mr. Boydell, in whom every rising professor of distin Even the brute thus exposed to the certainty of a lingering guished talent met a patron and a friend. A sum exceeding death, is an object that cannot be contemplated but with four hundred thousand pounds had been circulated by this painful commiseration.


amongst his brethren in the arts. The Il By a singular coincidence, another print of a storm in memory of such a citizen, in the great Roman age, would || these seas, with an Indiaman in distress, and published by have been perpetuated by a public monument. Such al Messrs. Hurst and Robinson, has come under notice at the


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