ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE GRACES ALTOGETHER.

(From an Old Manuscript.)

ALL her good children, nature hath inclin'd,
T'aspire to full perfection, in their kinde;
Therefore, she makes each thing, some good to love,
That being had, that good may better prove:
Yet, in their choice of good, they often err,
And seeing good, before time-good preferre.
But, let us see, if we can choose the thing,
That, to our sex, doth most perfection bring.

OF BEAUTIE.

Our perfect'st crown is made of beautie's flowers,
Which, of itself, supplies all other dowers;
Women excell the perfectest man in this,
And, therefore, herein, their perfection is.
We, for the beautie, Heav'n itself admire,
Fair fields, fair houses, gold and pearls desire;
Beautie doth always health and youth implie—
Beautie delights the noblest sense-the eye.

OF WIT.

Beautie delights the sense, but wit the reason,
Wit lasts an age, and beautie but a season;
The sense is quickly cloy'd with beauties taste,
But wit's delight still quick and fresh doth last;
Beautie, weake eyes with her illusion blinds,
Wit conquers spirits and triumphs ovre minds;
Dead things have beautie, only men have wit,
And men's perfection doth consist in it.

OF WEALTH.

Wit will want matter, beautie ornament,
If wealth doe want which is omnipotent;
Wealth is a power which passeth nature farre,
Wealth makes a goose, a swan, a spark, a starre;
Wealth on a cottage can a palace build,
New paint old walls, and rotten timbers guild;
Not a faire face, but fortune's fair I crave;
Let me want wit, so I foole's fortune have.

OF VERTUE.

Yet, these perfections, most imperfect be,
If there be wanting vertue's modesty;
Vertue's aspect wold have the sweetest grace,
If we could see, as we conceive her face.
Virtue guides wit with well affected will,
Which, if wit want, it proves a dangerous ill;
Virtue gets wealth, with her good government,
If not, she's rich, because she is content.

CHURCH ANNOYANCES.

MR. DAY,-I have read your "Church Annoyances," and I am surprised at two being left out: the first,-rising to let people above you; second,-talking in church, not only to persons in the same pew, but in other pews, even after the minister has appeared in the pulpit, and again as soon as the blessing is pronounced. D. L. D.

me,

Edinburgh, March 6.

PERE LA CHAISE.

"THIS," said I to a young French woman who accompanied "is laid out in a manner much more coincident with our notion of good landscape gardening than your boasted Tuileries." "Doubtless," said she," and the grave-stones, too,-are they not objects more suited to your sober eye and pensive mind, than the fashionable and over-smiling demoiselless who so constantly intrude themselves upon your attention in the latter ?"-" By no -means," I replied,-" yet, surely you must allow that the dead inhabit the most beautiful spot in the suburbs of Paris."

Shops for the sale of funeral wreaths and tomb-stones aunounce your approach to this charming cemetry, where every idea of the corruption working below, is suppressed by the sight of the fresh beauty which blooms above. The earth, inclosing the decayed remnants of mortality, yet enamelled with the gayest flowers, and tufted with vigorous ever-greens. Here are elegant tombs, and sarcophagi telling us of their lamented inmates, chaplets, from the hand of surviving Affection, scattered around, with violets and heart's-ease springing from every grave.

An occasional walk in such a place, with all its just "appliances," must do us a world of good. Here, we have hints, gentle and not to be misunderstood, with sermons given in a way the least hurtful to our vanity, the most salutary to our morals. The eulogies carved by Friendship's hand on the monuments of deceased worth, in appearing before us, ask us to deserve them. are lessons, tending to make husbands constant, wives affectionate, and children dutiful; while an external pleasantness wins as to the notice of them, and shrouds from our weakness, the terror of death. Abelard and Eloise are here enshrined, with, perhaps,

Here

ate.

many others of their kind not less devoted, though more fortunFoy's grave is covered with Admiration's offerings, and the death-bed of Ney is noted by want of note. He had a grave here— a handsome one-but it was removed; this is paltry. Some stone might have been awarded to his memory, with a fitting epitaph; for, if he deserved death, he died nobly and like a soldier. His political offence had been punished, nor was it generous to withhold from him, afterwards, the honour due to his military talents. -Sketches by a Travelling Architect.

MISCELLANEA.

NATURE had bestowed on Burke, a boundless imagination, aided by a memory of equal strength and tenacity. His fancy was so vivid, that it seemed to light up by its powers, and to burn, without consuming the aliment on which it fed; sometimes bearing him away into ideal scenes, created by his own exhuberant mind; and from which he sooner or later returned to the subject of debate, descending from his more aerial flights, by a gentle and im. perceptible gradation, till he again touched the ground. Wraxall.

In this meane time, was guid peace and rest in Scotland, and great love betwixt the King, (Jas. IV.) and his subjects. So that he would ride out through any part of the realme, him alone, unknowin that he was the king, and would ligge in puir mene's huises, as he had bein ane travelloure through the countrie, and would require of them quhair the king was, and quhat ane man he was, and quhat they spoke of him through the countrie. So that by these answers, the king heard the common truth of himself.

:

There are many things that, in themselves, have nothing truly delighting on the contrary, they have a good deal of bitterness in them; and yet, by our perverse appetites after forbidden objects, are not only ranked among the pleasures, but are made even the greatest designs of life.-Sir Thomas More.

There is a certain warmth of gratitude, which not only acquits us of favour received, but even, while we are repaying our friends what we owed, makes them our debtors.-Rochefoucault.

When thou sittest down to table, offer up thy prayers-when thou partakest food, pour forth thy thanks to him from whom that food proceedeth. If thou callest in the aid of wine, to sustain thy drooping strength, oh, think on him who bade the vine to flourish, that it might cheer thy heart, and alleviate thy pains.— St. Basile.

FINE ARTS.-Nothing can be further from striking or violent expression than the face of the Venus of Medici: but its physiognomy is so sweet, so intelligent; its beauty seems so perfectly the mirror of a celestial mind, that though at the first glance it appear mere corporeal beauty, yet, when accurately contemplated, it seems animated with the intellects of a superior being.—Sir J. E. Smith.

THE THREE EMBLEMS OF UNCERTAINTY.-In some dull and ill written letters by one Wickford, a singular passage occurs. Speaking of English politics and the approach of the Princess from England to Holland, to espouse William the Stadholder, he observes, "but this depends upon three things very uncertain, viz. : -the wind, a woman's will, and a British parliament. "

EPITAPH IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. LIFE's like an Inn where travellers stay: Some only breakfast and away. Others for dinner stay, and are full fed; The oldest only sup and go to bed. Long is his bill who lingers out the day: Who goes the soonest has the least to pay.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

MN.'s, "Red Warrior," according to the rules which Petrarch has laid down, is misnamed a Sonnet, and at the hands of our Poetical Critic, in its author's own words, "an awful death hath found!"

"Mademoiselle MARRYME," will grace our columns when we have room.

"CYRUS'S" Poem is excellent, but it is too long for our columns.

All communications for the Editor of "THE DAY" are requested to be left with the Publisher, MR. JOHN FINLAY, No. 9, Miller Street.

PUBLISHED, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by JOHN FINLAY, at No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by JOHN WYLIE, 97, Argyle Street; DAVID ROBERTSON, and W. R. M'PHUN, Glasgow; THOMAS STEVENSON, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh: DAVID DICK, Bookseller, Paisley: A. LAING, Greenock; and J. GLASS, Bookseller, Rothsay.

PRINTED BY JOHN GRAHAM, MELVILLE PLACE.

OLD NEWS.

[THE following lively epistle, from a valued correspondent in the Modern Athens, we insert without a single syllable of comment. It will speak for itself.]

To the Editor of THE DAY.

SIR," Was I to blame, O, Athenians! for having given you one happy day ?" was the reply which saved the slave who had spread the false report of a victory. The Athenians computed the day's enjoyment as enough, at least, to detract from the cruel disappointment he had caused; and, if this could take place amid the reckless gaiety of an Athenian democracy, how much more, in this bleak north-western corner, do we, whose every day brings the too sure tidings of defeats from sickness, poverty, old age, and, finally, from the "fell sergeant" death, who is sure to be " before he dies; how much, I say, do we not owe to those who come among us, as the cheering ministers of mirth and laughter-loving gaiety, whose very countenances are, like the glad tidings of a victory over mischance and woe; what, though care do come behind, they can bid him wait, and, imposing their own portly and well-endowed corporations betwixt us and the "fell despiteous fiend," can, at least, prevent our seeing him till their departure; and what, perhaps, is better than all, these worthies seldom take their leave without asking leave to come again. Of such, among the foremost, was my friend Mr. M- Peace to his ashes, and may his merry ghost preside, for ever, in some snug coterie of the " good society" at the Blythswood Hill end of the Elysian Fields; peace, I say, and praise to his memory, for he, indeed,

"Could cheat us of our griefs,

"

And bid abashed despondence stand aside." He was, indeed, a hearty fellow; cracked a good joke, sung a better song, and was the very best raconteur in our community; his memory was most minute and retentive, and his descriptions perfectly graphic, while he was so admirable a mimic, that you instantly forgot the narrator and had before you the actual living, breathing, talking subject of the tale. Mathews might have learned, and I believe did learn, a good deal from him. I shall never forget the exquisite mode in which he pourtrayed the stiff, heavy, costive delivery of the following clerical pun, which the perpetrator himself stared at, as an unwonted, unauthorized intruder :The Rev. Dr. had engaged a brother to preach for him on a rainy Sunday morning; the substitute, a thorough moderate, in every thing but the duration of his discourses, arrived, dripping and dejected, and, meeting his brother in the Vestry, groaned out, "Och, Doctor! whare can I gang to dry me?" "'Deed, Doctor," responded the other, "first gang your ways up to the pulpit, ye'll be dry enough there."

M—, like all other good hearted "sweet soothers of our cares," was of the good old Tory school; none of your growling Radicals, or sulky Whigs; he agreed with Sir Walter and all the other public men, of whom Scotland really has reason to be proud, that, if Reform be a good thing, it should, like other good things, begin at home. I beg your pardon, my dear ex-Algerine Despot, but I am sure you cannot

or the King of England, he daurna lay a finger on my doug." This being duly reported, "Ma foi," said the Prince, in amazement," Voici un royaume, qui s'appelle libre, où on ne peut pas tirer sur un chien ;' an admirable pendant this to Jonathan's, "a pretty land of liberty, where a man can't larrop his own nigger." However, the old gentleman, like his respectable predecessor, the Tyrant of Syracuse and Pedagogue of Corinth, however he may be thought to have acted in France, has, at least in Scotland, comported himself with the quiet dignity of cheerful resignation in adversity, and, although seemingly averse to old debts and new duns, is, at least, by no means averse, to renew acquaintances of a less important nature. My friend M was, therefore, early advertised, that "His Most Christian Majesty" would be rejoiced to see him presented at the Court of St. Germains, I should rather say Holyrood. By the bye, I believe the invitation was given about the same time that Mademoiselle, the only sister of Henry V. as he will be when he

"Claims all his claims, and has his claims allowed." came into his shop in Street, and presented him with a miniature of her mother, (the Queen Mother I was going to say,) the Duchess De Berri. I shall never forget the smile of exultation with which Mused to exhibit this picture, (a trumpery daub it was too,) nor the joyous glee with which he used to mimic the infantine voice of the charming little Princess, as the fairy tales say, in repeating her presentation address of "Ah, Mr. M- -, you must not think this so pretty as mamma; it is very like inamma a long time ago, when mamma, very little girl, far away in Naples ; mamma look far much better now; when you shall see her, you shall say so too." Well, as I was saying, to Court he went, arrayed ap à pie, selon les regles, was admitted, marched boldly up stairs to the anti-chamber, and presented his card and credentials, (the card, I believe, of the Duc de,) the Lord or lacquey in waiting, he knew not which, received them with the air of a Swiss " Mousquetaire," and with all the ceremonious civility of the "ancien regime," requested him to wait an instant, and he would communicate within. "I now began to quake," said my friend," and still more when his immediate return and obsequious bow, announced my instant admittance. Bowing, he threw open the door, I could na but do the like, so I een

booed in wi' my head down, like a ram in a butting match, and hardly kent whare I was, till a tall, hale, weel favoured old gentleman, came from a table at which he was standing with, ah, Mr. M- how do you?'' You are my very old friend :' Your friend—ah, he is dead! he was my very good friend.' I felt quite recovered at his kind-hearted condescension, and paid my respects, I hope becomingly-after some more chit-chat of auld langsyne, I was taken notice of by his son the Duc D'Angouleme, who introduced me to his wife by simply pointing towards her, and saying, 'La Dauphine. He was a good natured looking man, like, but not nearly so good looking as his father. I next renewed my acquaintance with the Duc de Polignae, brother of the unfortunate Minister, then at Paris under trial for high treason. He also was an old acquaintance of mine, and, in going over some old matters, I unwittingly mentioned the name of his brother, and shall never forget the dejection which for a moment clouded the countenance of the hearty old Frenchman, as he said, 'ah, my poor brother, but we hope for the best.' This was my only drawback from a most enchanting half hour, and, on taking my leave, the Ex-king himself said, well Mr. M, you have called on me, I shall see you again some day, as I take my walk.'" The above is a feeble transcript from my unretentive memory, but no writing could convey the admirable style of the narrator, nor the tones in which, master of French himself, he imitated the broken English of the illustrious exiles. However, not to exceed your limits, I must now constrain myself, my dearest, "Sole cause that makes St. Mungo say, He now is brilliant every Day:'' To bid you farewell.

FINE ARTS.

DEATH OF MR. DOUGLAS, MINIATURE PAINTER.

By the death of Mr. Douglas, at his house, Hart Street, Edinburgh, in January last, the Arts have been deprived of an eminent painter, and society of an agreeable, intelligent and useful member.

Mr. Douglas, at an early age, was apprenticed to Mr. Scott, engraver, and was employed by him in making drawings for magazines, which at that time were generally decorated with views of ancient castles, and the more interesting delineations of Scottish scenery. He began his career of miniature painting when a mere boy, his companions and relations being in their turn the subject of his pencil, and, although some of these early productions were only sketches, they generally indicated the likeness so powerfully, that no difficulty was felt in tracing the resemblance. At length one picture of our young artist was so good, that the gentleman who sat for it insisted it should be incased at the jeweller's, and young Douglas hastened with it for that purpose to Mr. White's, with whom he had contracted a slight acquaintance. This gentleman struck with the beauty of the work, and the correct likeness, immediately recommended the young artist to follow miniature painting as a profession, nor did his friendship end in advice only, for he introduced him to a number of his acquaintance, and of these Lord Duncan was the first, who agreed to put to the test the talents of his young protegee. Fortunately, the picture was remarkable for its fidelity and success, and from that moment Mr. Douglas determined to devote his time and talents to the pencil. His range was at first extensive. He painted landscape, cattle and familiar scenes, whilst he now produced in miniature an effect peculiarly his own, by colouring the face and arms and working the other parts, and landscape in pencil. But at length his business increased so much, that he was obliged to devote himself entirely to miniature on ivory. His portraits have generally a pleasing expression, the sitter always

seems in a happy mood, which no doubt in part resulted from the circumstance of Mr. Douglas being a person of superior address, gentlemanly manners, and so abounding in amusing anecdote, that he never failed to please and entertain those who employed him.

Several anecdotes are told of the happy exercise of his power of pleasing. Lord sat for his miniature. The engagements of his Lordship were numerous, and his time limited. Mr. Douglas under such circumstances felt it impossible to do justice to this picture, and put forth all his powers of entertainment. His Lordship was so much amused, that he soon forgot his engagements, he laughed and listened and listened and laughed, until suddenly recollecting an appointment, he pulled forth his watch, and was astonished to find that instead of one, he had sat three hours with the amusing artist. Douglas," he exclaimed, "this is really too bad. I have for three hours listened to your stories, instead of sitting I have been laughing, and instead of painting you have been jesting" but Mr. Douglas replied, "my Lord, if I were to allow you or any other person to sit for an hour without speaking, you would get melancholy and dull, but by conversation of an amusing kind, I keep up your spirits, the time passes pleasantly, and you shall now see, my Lord, I have not been idle."

66

Mr. Douglas was deservedly respected by a numerous circle of nobility and gentry, from whom he had many invitations; but these he generally declined, devoting himself entirely to his profession, the more necessary, when we state, that he had frequently forty or fifty miniatures, of different sizes, in progress. His industry was crowned with great success, and had death not snatched away the fair" daughter of a royal line," regal favor also would have awaited him, as he was appointed miniature painter for Scotland, to Her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold.

Mr. Douglas died of ossification of the heart, at the age of forty-nine. His early death has left his family in great affliction, but his early exertions and constant attention to his art, we rejoice to say, have enabled him to leave that family in circumstances of comfort and independence.

LITERARY CRITICISM.

THE FRENCH POETICAL GIFT, or Cours Elémentaire de Literature, from Malherbe to Voltaire. Edited by MONS. L. FENWICK DE PORQUET. London, 1832.

THE Editor of this volume is an individual who has been, for some time labouring in London to establish a new and more perfect system of tuition. Although, in our own experience of studying languages, we have always found that there is no royal road to a correct knowledge of them, we cannot refrain from awarding, to Monsieur De Porquet, that meed of praise which he deserves. The fact is, this foreigner's method is one of the very best of the many which have been submitted to the public; but, while we say so, we must, at the same time confess, that it is only by the greatest diligence and perseverance that an accurate knowledge of any tongue can be acquired.

The volume before us, as its name betokens, is a Poetical Recueil, which, while it conveys to its readers some of the most striking passages of the Gallic Muse, is, at the same time, intended to give examples of those phrases which are either idiomatic, or used in a figurative sense, and by reading them not literally, but, in the spirit of the original, acquire the various peculiarities of the poetical phraseology of France. The work is well compiled; and what is, perhaps, its greatest charm and its greatest merit, it offers nothing which the most innocent, guileless girl, may not read with advantage. It, in fact, realizes the common Apothegm of Bouilly,

La mère en permettra la lecture à sa fille, which is the highest of all compliments that we can pay to a book dedicated peculiarly to the tuition and instruction of youth.

THE SORROWS OF A SPINSTER.

THE case of distress contained in the following letter has excited no small degree of sympathy in the bosoms of the Council of Ten. We trust the tender grievances complained of will meet the "soft blue eye" of her "jolly good-looking Bachelor," and have the effect of rendering his heart as soft as his "eye." Should this not be the case, we fear our fair correspondent will be looking rather blue herself. We need not say she has all our best wishes for the happy result of her intended experiment.

To the Editor of THE DAY.

SIR, I would have you understand, that the person who now addresses you, has advanced pretty far up the hill of life. Every step I make, wrings a sigh from my sad heart; and, the recurring thought of fear, that I shall go down to the grave a virgin, makes me fret and weep most deploringly. This is the fourth leap year I have seen since the time I lept out of my teens, and I have been so silly, as to allow those periods of high privilege to our sexthese some leap years to pass away-as if I cared not for being married, or wasted a single thought on the best man that ever walked in a Wellington boot, or a Hessian either. Some of my

more fortunate companions, who may now be seen walking on the Sauchiehall road, of a fine day, with two-with three-with four, or peradventure with five-rosy smiling little cherubs at their feet, often chide me in a humorous way, for being too reservedtoo pernickety-too much the fine lady for the rattling beaux of of Glasgow, else I might have been married long ago. They may joke and tease me as they please; in my own opinion, such faults I do not possess. At one time, Mr. Day, there was a great big booby of a grocer came a courting me, with half a dozen of rings on his fingers--I know not how many seals at the watch, and his head covered with tremendously bushy red hair. Well, happening to be asked to a large dinner party, who should salute me on my entrée to the parlour, but the gallant grocer! He took good care to procure a seat next me at dinner. Asked me to drink wine said my hand was as white as loaf-sugar, and that my cheek looked very like an American apple. My glass remaining about half-full of wine, he seized it, drank it off, and made a low joke about it being as good as a kiss. This vulgarity I could not endure, and with some hauteur, ordered the servant to take away the wine glass and bring another. The Knight of the sugar loaf reddened to the temples, and never spoke to me more. The thing was noised abroad next day, and every body set me down as being shockingly proud, and the whole tribe of spinsters said I had used the young man very ill, and ought to be ashamed of myself. For a long while no one ventured to sue me for his lady love. At length a spruce young Ensign had the courage to pay his addresses to me; but, having declined to walk arm-in-arm with him along the Trongate, he took it in high dudgeon, and wrote me a very impertinent note next day, in which he hinted, that, had I been a man, he would have called me out. Pitiful creature! thought I, and put his card coolly into the fire. Time rolled on, and one evening, while sipping my tea, a jolly, good-looking old Bachelor insinuated himself into my good graces. He has been a constant visitor ever since, and many's the good rub at cribbage we have had together. I love him, and methinks he loves me too; but, in discoursing of love, the only organ he uses, is his soft blue eye. I often think in secret what a happy couple we would make, and have resolved again and again to use the privilege this year affords me of " popping the question" myself; but, as I don't like to be singular in anything, I hereby request, nay, beseech all damsels similarly situated, to join me in this mode of attempting to get a husband; and, if they be agreeable, let next Wednesday be fixed upon, to make a simultaneous charge at "popping."-Your's respectfully, W. L. U. MARRYME.

P. S.-I will be sure to let you know, good Mr. Day, whether or not I succeed.

Glasgow, 8th March, 1832.

MISCELLANEA.

M.

LEANING TOWER OF PISA.-In the city of Pisa, there is a round tower, of eight stories of pillars, 180 feet high, inclining so much off the perpendicular that the top projects fifteen feet over the base. The base, on the lower side, appears sunk in the ground,

about six feet. It is built of marble, and has stood more than six hundred years, without fissure or decay, having been raised in 1174. It is supposed to have sunk, when built as high as the fifth story, and the architect had the boldness and skill to complete it in the direction it had taken.-Anon.

CELERITY OF CLOTH MANUFACTURE.-In England, the fleece has been taken from the sheep, manufactured into cloth, and made into a coat, in the short space of thirteen hours and twenty mi

nutes.

MUNDEN.-Soon after the death of Munden, an actor of the Surrey, meeting an acquaintance, who was well known to them both, accosted him thus:-" So, we have lost our old friend and relative, Joe Munden." "It's true," quoth the other, "poor Munden is gone; but where is the relationship?" "Pshaw, man," said the player, looking gravely," are we not, all of us, mundane."

The nature of a journey to Siberia, is exceedingly misunderstood in this country, and by the world in general. Such a degree of banishment presents to our minds the picture of every thing deplorable in the lot of humanity. When viewed a little nearer, this picture has no such frightful aspect, and a man must both see what the Russian bears, and have a detailed account of what he is devoted to in his new residence, to estimate fairly the extent of the sacrifice, which the caprice of his tyrant may at any moment, and without any reason compel him to undergo.-Dr. Clarke.

MODERN SCHOOL OF POETRY.-There is a small but peculiar class of versifiers-a select band of poetasters-men of some fancy, a little learning, less taste, and almost no feeling, who have invented a manner of writing and thinking frigidly artificial, while affecting to be negligently natural, though no more resembling nature than the flowers and shell-work of our grandmothers represented the roses and carnations they caricatured.—Montgomery.

LITERARY FRAUDS.-Leonard Aretino, a distinguished scholar, at the dawn of modern literature, having found a Greek Manuscript of Procopius de bello Gothico, he translated it into Latin, and published the work-but, concealing the author's name, it passed as his own, till another M. S. of the same work being dug out of its grave, the fraud of Aretino was detected. Barbosa, a bishop of Ugento, 1649, has printed, among his works, a treatise, which, it is said, he obtained, by having perceived one of his domestics bringing in a fish, rolled in a leaf of written paper, which his curiosity led him to examine. He was sufficiently interested to run out and search the fish market, till he found the manuscript out of which it had been torn. He purchased and published it under the title De Officio Episcopi.

VICAR OF BRAY.-The Vicar of Bray, in Berkshire, was a Papist under the reign of Henry the Eighth, and a Protestant under Edward the Sixth; he was a Papist again, under Mary, and once more became a Protestant in the reign of Elizabeth. When this scandal to the gown was reproached for his versatility of religious creeds, and taxed for being a turncoat and an unconstant changeling, as Fuller expresses it, he replied, "Not 80, neither! for, if I changed my religion, I am sure I kept true to my principle, which is, to live and die the Vicar of Bray!"

MADRIGAL. From the Spanish.

WHEN stars bedeck the azure sky,

And shine the sparkling gems of night,
Oh, Lady! oft I wish to sigh,

And wander near thy chamber light,
Whose faintly glowing ray discloses
The spot where innocence reposes.
And, when the smiling moonbeams play,
In silver radiance on thy bower,
In loneliness I pensive stray,

To worship there its fairest flower;
And hope so sweet a rose as thee,
May ever bloom for one like me.
But still thy image is the shrine

Where all my musings fondly dwell;
Yet strange, this wayward heart of mine
To thee can ne'er its failings tell;
And though 'twould dare a host in fight,
It trembles in a Lady's sight.

Then happy be thy hour of rest,

Though hopeless still my breast must swell;
For one, within whose gentle breast
Resides each grace, I love so well;

Though, chance, my only doom may be
To love and to despair for thee.

GLASGOW GOSSIP.

THE want of a fashionable journal which might record the gossip of the highest circles, after the manner of the Court Journal, has often been experienced in Glasgow; and, though we have sometimes attempted to supply the void, the scarcity of parties this season, has given us opportunity for only a limited chronicle of such occurrences. The fact, that gaiety is carried in this city to a height which would furnish ample materials for our Spectacles to comment upon, is already beyond dispute, and a farther instance of it has lately presented itself. At this moment, all St. Vincent Street is busy in discussing the events of a dejeuner and ball, which were given in the beginning of last week, on occasion of the marriage of a young and handsome couple. The splendour of the entertainments is very much lauded by the different coteries, and will very probably furnish a subject of drawing-room conversation for some weeks.

EAST COUNTRY REMINISCENCES.

THE late provost C, of E- -, though a very worthy man, and of no mean literary attainments, was generally reported by his brethren in council, who were, like all other town councillors, remarkably fond of good eating, and, its indispensible concomitant, good drinking, to be rigidly economical-nay, even parsimonious in the management of his household affairs; his extendeconomy ing even to the entertainments which, as Lord Provost, he had to give, and for which he received a pretty good allowance from the public purse. Some of his "drouthy neighbours" would allege that his wine-cellar exhibited only "a beggarly account of empty bins," and a few of the more noted topers among them, resolved to put this to the test, and vaunted that they "would drink the Provost dry." Accordingly, at his lordship's next entertainment, they pushed such a rapid circulation of the bottle, that ere long the astonished chief magistrate was obliged, from a deficiency in his own stock, to send to purchase a dozen of wine! Not many days after this occurrence, a proposal chanced to be brought forward at the council-board, for draining a large meadow belonging to the city, then almost a complete swamp. While the council were debating this important matter, the worthy Provost abruptly interrupted their discussion, and, with a look and tone of waggery, blended with irony, exclaimed:-" Gentlemen, you may save yourselves all this trouble-just stave a punchon of rum into the stank, and the convener and baillie M- will drink it dry in a week."

ANTIQUITIES AT LARGS. From a Correspondent.

HALF-WAY between Largs and Kilburnie, the eye of the traveller On the is arrested by the lofty conical top of the Knockhill. summit of that hill, did Alexander King of Scotland survey, in person, the camp wherein the Norwegians lay, previous to the battle of Largs, and tradition says, that, to commemorate that event, the rugged pyramid or cairn which now remains, was then first erected. About two miles nearer Largs, on the banks of the Kelburn, there is to be seen the remains of the Norwegian camp. Although not very distinct, still the eye can easily trace the outlines of an encampment. It is a large circular place, which has evidently been strongly intrenched, and has the appearance of having once been defended by walls and mounds of earth; but these are long Three miles farther on since overgrown with moss and turf. there is a high range of hills overhanging the village of Largs, on which the famous battle of that name was fought, between the Scotch and Norwegians, and which ended in the defeat and expulsion of the latter from this country. On the braes immediately above the mansion house of Hailie, beneath some stunted and withered trees, three large flat stones are shewn to the stranger, as the graves wherein the dead were buried after that memorable engagement. One in particular which stands apart from the others, and on which there are still traces of hieroglyphics and ancient letters, is pointed out as the grave in which the son of Haco, King of the Norwegians, and Dracobert the admiral of his fleet, were buried ; and, in corroboration of this, there have heen found at several periods, adjoining the graves, pieces of old armour, ancient coins, &c. Every one who is at all acquainted with the History of Scotland,

must know that, after the defeat of the Norwegians, they fled to Fairlie Bay, where their ships were moored, and hastily set sail. Soon after, a violent storm arose, which made dreadful havoc among their fleet, sinking some and wrecking others upon the then barren shores of the surrounding country. Amongst other places, a number were thrown on the bleak desolate shores of the Little Cumbrae Island, where they all perished from famine. Many years afterwards, their whitened and bleached bones were found on the shores and buried. The late Earl of Eglinton, to whom the island belonged, employed people, about the year 1813, to raise the ground in hopes of discovering some traces of these unfortunates, and he was amply repaid for his trouble, by finding many strange relics of the days that are now gone. An account of the success of the excavations was published at the time, under the direction of his Lordship.

ANECDOTE OF MADAME DE STAEL.

Ar a numerous supper party with the Duchess Amelia, I was sitting far off her, and chanced this time, also, to be taciturn, and rather meditative. My neighbours reproved me for it, and there rose a little movement, the cause of which, at length reached up to higher personages. Madame de Stäel heard the accusation of my silence, expressed herself regarding it, in the usual terms, and added, On the whole, I never like Goethe, till he has had a bottle of champaigne.' I said half aloud, so that those next me could hear, I suppose then, we have often got a little elevated together.' A moderate laugh ensued. She wanted to know the cause. No one could or would give a French version of my words in their proper sense; till at last, Benjamin Constant, one of those near me, undertook, as she continued asking and importuning, to satisfy her by some euphonistic phrase, and so terminate the business.Goethe.

ODDS AND ENDS.

ARISTOCRACY,-Not such, as conquest, or feudality might found, but such as great and illustrious qualities give birth to, and time fosters into dignity, is, indeed, a natural element of every society. It is wise to uphold its existence.-Crowe.

A POETICAL BARBER.-The following choice morsel was exhibited, a few weeks ago, over the shop door of a worthy tonsor, at Todmorden :

SHAVING DEPOT.

To all who has air, or beards to crop,
I recommend my shavin' shop;
Cheape hand luxyurious does trim
The roughest beards of any chin,
Cuts the air on the newest plan,
And charges littler than any man.

CURE FOR SEA-SICKNESS. "The best of remedies is a beef-steak Against sea-sickness: try it, Sir, before You sneer, and I assure you this is true, For I have found it answer-so may you.”

BYRON.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

WE are surprised that our intelligent correspondent, Giovanni, should pay the least attention to rumours which only malice and envy could have put into circulation. Let only one overt act be committed by the slanderer, and we have a rod in pickle which will for ever silence him.

"MY TEACHER" does not convey a lesson sufficiently moral for our readers.

Really our Poetical correspondents are a thin-skinned, waspish generation. We must, for their own sakes, entreat them to submit to the rejection of their pieces with a little more temper. We are at a loss to know what obligation we have confered on "A. B." that he should feel himself so “much oblidged.”

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