MR. COLMAN, of New York, is publishing a Series of Stories from Real Life in Periodical Numbers. The celebrated "Three Experiments of Living" formed the first part-this little work has had numerous imitators, and a host of "Experiments" have been exhibited to the public, but destitute of the merit of the original, they have failed in appropriating their wonderful success. The Third Part of Mr. Colman's work-The Harcourts has lately been placed upon our table; it professes, like its predecessors, to inculcate the principles of true independence, and the practices of domestic economy. The chapters of this ethical novel, for such it really is, are written with more natural ease and actual truth than the majority of the fashionable novels. The writer is evidently well skilled in the mysteries of the human heart, and is every way calcu lated to depict a story of real life. Husbands and fathers cannot do better than introduce these stories into their domestic circles.

The annexed passage, while it displays the vigorous terseness of the author's style, developes the subject of the plot, if the arrangement of the tale may be so described.

"What folly, what madness, to persevere in the Sisyphus labor of keeping up the appearance of wealth where no reality exists! The heart-burnings, the frequent mortifications, the daily harrowing of their pride, that all are obliged to endure who maintain this struggle, ought to be enough to deter every one from making the attempt. The deception never succeeds, even with the most ingenious contrivance and most skilful management. But in the path of undissembling honesty and plain truth every thing is secured-domestic comfort, pecuniary advantage, and the respect of the community."

Mr. ADAM WALDIE, of Carpenter street, Philadelphia, is publishing, in semi-monthly parts, a work of unu. sual necessity to every body concerned in commercial or monetary proceedings. "THE FINANCIAL REGISTER OF THE UNITED STATES, devoted chiefly to Finance and Curreney, and to Banking and Commercial Statistics,” contains a valuable collection of documents connected with the fiscal arrangements of the country, particularly acceptable at the present moment to the man of business; and embodying the most precious information to the politician, the financier, the capitalist, and the speculator.

LITERARY COPYRIGHT.-Sergeant Talfourd, the author of the successful tragedy of Ion, has obtained leave to bring into the House of Commons "a Bill to amend and consolidate the Laws relating to property in Books, Musical Compositions, Acted Dramas, Pictures, and Engravings, provide remedies for the violation thereof, ' and to extend the term of its duration." The learned Sergeant was peculiarly eloquent in his prefatory remarks, and drew down the repeated applause of the house, and the compliments of several distinguished men of both parties. The whole of the speeches deserve copying, but we are unable to afford room; the following remarks by Mr. Talfourd on the subject of INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHT speak home to our feelings and deserve the warmest attention.

"There is only one other consideration to which I will advert, as connected with this subject-the expedience and justice of acknowledging the rights of foreigners to copyright in this country, and of claiming it for ourselves in return. If, at this time, it were clear that our law allowed no protection to foreigners first publishing in this country, there would be great difficulty in dealing with this question for ourselves, and we might feel bound to leave it to negotiation to give and to obtain reciprocal benefits. But, if a recent decision on the subject of musical copyright is to be regarded as correct, the principle of international copyright is already acknowledged here, and there is little for us to do in order that we may be enabled to claim its recognition from foreign states. It has been decided by a judge, conversant with the business and the elegancies of life to a degree unusual with an eminent lawyer-by one who was the most successful advocate of his time, yet who was not more remarkable for his skill in dealing with facts than for the grace with which he embellished them-by Lord Abinger-that the assignee of foreign copyright, deriving title from the author abroad to publish in this country, and creating that right within a reasonable time, may claim the protection of our courts against any infringement of his copy. If this is law, and I believe and trust it is, we shall make no sacrifice in so declaring it, and in setting an example which France, Prussia, America, and Germany, are preparing to follow. (Hear, hear.) Let us do justice to our law, and to ourselves. (Hear, hear.) At present, not only is the literary intercourse of countries which should form one great family degraded into a low series of piracies; not only are industry and genius deprived of their just reward, but our literature is debased in the eyes of the world by the wretched medium through which they behold it. Pilfered, and disfigured in the pilfering, the noblest images are broken: wit falls pointless, and verse is only felt in fragments of broken music. Sad fate for an irritable race! (Hear, hear.) The great minds of our times have now an audience to impress far vaster than it ever entered into the minds of their predecessors to hope for-an audience increasing as population thickens in the cities of America, and spreads itself out through its long untrodden wilds-who speak our language, and who look upon our old poets as their own immortal ancestry.

And if thus our literature shall be theirs; if its diffusion shall follow the efforts of the stout heart and steady arm, in their triumphs over the obstacles of nature, if the deeper woods which shall still encirca the still extending states of civilization shall be haunted with visions of beauty which our por .ated, let those who are thus softening the ruggedness of young society have some personal interes. out which affec tion may gather; and, at least, let them be protected from those who would exhibit them mangled or corrupted to the new world of their admiring disciples. I do not, in truth, ask for literature favor; I do not ask for it charity; I do not even appeal to gratitude in its behalf; but I ask for it a portion, and but a portion, of that common justice which the coarsest industry obtains for its natural reward, and which nothing but the very extent of its claims, and the nobleness of the associations to which they are akin, have prevented it from receiving from our laws.

"There is something peculiarly unjust in bounding the time of an author's property by that of his natural life. It denies to age and experience the probable reward it permits to youth-to youth sufficiently full of hope and joy to slight its promises! It gives a bounty to haste, and informs the laborious student, who would wear away his life to complete some work which the world will not willingly let die,' that the more of his life he devotes to its perfection, the more limited shall be his interest in its fruits. It stops the progress of remuneration at the moment when it is most needed, and when Nature would turn the fate of the dead into the means of provision to survivors. At the moment when his name is invested with the solemn interest of the grave, when his eccentricities or frailties excite a smile or a shrug no longer, when the last seal is set upon his earthly course, and his works assume their place among the classics of his country, your law says his works shall become our own public property, and you will requite him by seizing on the patrimony of his children."

The Chancellor of the Exchequer, the learned and eloquent Thomas Spring Rice, observed—

"In the course of his observations, his honorable and learned friend had opened a question of considerable importance: he alluded to the question of international law; and he had brought the subject forward at a most opportune period, inasmuch as that other brother of the English family-for so he must ever describe the na tion on the other side of the Atlantic-(hear, hear)-had already given it some attention. He believed it had been brought under the consideration of the American Congress by a report drawn up by one of its most eminent statesmen, Mr. Clay."

WHITE NEGROES.-Two remarkable specimens of this wonderful anomaly of nature exist in the woods of Cape May county, Jersey, about four miles from Cape Island. Two boys, one about four, the other a year older, although born of negro parents, are whiter than the generality of the pale faces of the north." The father and mother are of the unmixed Ethiopian breed; and an infant, born since the birth of the youngest Albino, is as dark as the parents. The Albinos themselves possess the usual peculiarities of the negro for mation; their heads are square or flat-sided-their hair is woolly and frizzled-their noses are short, broad, and flat-their lips are large and projecting, and their shins most decidedly curved. Their skins are of a clear milky white, and the hair is like the finest and whitest wool. Their eyes, as usual in all Albinos, are weak i and the want of the black mucus gives them a pink or reddish tint. They are unable to endure the broad light of day; and when exposed to the glare of the sun, the pupil trembles violently, and the children complain of pain. The mother, who is the wife of a farm laborer, positively objects to the proposals made to her by various interested indviiduals, and refuses to make her children the object of a show. She attributes the accident of their color to being frightened in the woods during her pregnancies, but the characteristics of Albinos are now well known to be the effect of a disease; and frequently attack the whites as well as the blacks; animals and birds are subject to the complaint; and white rabbits, white rats, white mice, white crows, and white black-birds, attest the truth of the discovery. Albinos are frequent in the vale of Chamouny, in Switzerland, Tyrol, France, and along the Rhine. A celebrated Albiness, as she was termed, a Frenchwoman, has been exhibited in Europe for the last twenty years. When we saw her last, her hair was of the purest white, and reached below her knees. She appeared wrinkled and decrepid, although not thirty years of age; her eyes were more than usually red, and her skin cadaverously white. Her name was announced as Madame Blafard, which the exhibitor ignorantly asserted was her family denomination, not being aware that blafard, or pale face, is the name given by the French to all Albinos.

The Leucaethiops, or White Negroes, are subject to the same disease as the European Albinos. The rete mucosum is destroyed by this disease, and as the coloring matter that imparts the tint to the skin is retained between the cutis and the rete mucosum, it follows that when the latter is destroyed, the effect of the coloring matter is lost. The epidermis, or scarf-skin, is naturally white, and where the epidermis is thicker than usual. as in the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, the black coloring matter of the negro's blood is not so easily perceived. This is the explanation, also, of the spotted negro, a phenomenon that attracted the tention of the curious some years back-the coloring matter was killed by disease in various parts of the negro's body, and produced a variegated appearance, similar to the spots on a piebald horse. There is now. upon the estate of Mr. John Craig, on Keowee River, Picken's District, South Carolina, a female slave, about eleven years of age, descended from full-blooded African parents, and from the age of seven, she has been gradually undergoing a change from black to white. The appearances of the new color are described as being soft, delicate, transparent, and healthy; and, although her eyes are not at present affected with the Albino tint, such affection must finally be the result of the loss of the mucus or coloring matter contaired in

the rele mucosum.

THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE,

OCTOBER, 1837.

Series of Letters from a Clergyman in New South Wales.

BY WILLIAM E. BURTON.

duities. We agreed to elope-to fly from the cold | a countryman, I walked by the side of the mules, and restraints imposed upon us by society, and in a foreign concealed my face in the shadow of my sombrero's clime, to live for love alone.

The abbot, who had officiated at the hateful ceremony, closely watched our conduct; and on the night previous to our flight, told me, with ill-concealed enjoyment, the nature of my arrangements. I was thunderstruck. I had imagined that we ourselves were the only living persons possessing a knowledge of our design, but monkish cunning had overreached my caution; I wished to bribe him to silence, but he openly declared his satisfaction, and avowed a deadly enmity for my brother, arising from some worldly dispute, ere he, the monk, had assumed the cowl.

"I will befriend you," said he; "in the retirement of my friary, on the banks of the Douro, I can offer you a refuge till the heat of the pursuit be past. My influence will secure you from intrusion, and in the holy quiet of our monastic groves may ye indulge in uninterrupted bliss." I joyously accepted the offer, and in the depth of the night I stole my brother's wife from the home of her husband, and desecrated the house of God with the presence of our unhallowed loves.

Since that hour I have never smiled!

brim. The friar accompanied us for several miles; and, at parting, gave me a sealed letter, containing, as he averred, the parting benedictions of a friend, to comfort us in our journey through life.

I had arranged a few trivial circumstances to mislead our pursuers, and induce them to think that we had crossed Portugal for the purpose of embarking at Oporto; but, turning to the north, I traversed the province of Biscay, and at the old port of Bilboa I engaged a rude vessel with its ruder crew, stipulating to be landed on the coast of Denmark, at which court I possessed many excellent friends.

Safely aboard the little coasting sloop, whose humble prow was breasting the ever-vexed bosom of the bay, I hugged my dear Louise to my heart, and for the first time felt relieved from the fear of pursuit or the disgrace of detection. The good friar's letter fell from my bosom; Louise's curiosity required a perusal of the contents, and, breaking the seal, we read as follows:

"Thou fool! my hatred, fierce and unextinguishable as the flames of hell, enwraps the whole of thy accursed race! I encouraged thy amour with the heretic wench, for I foresaw the misery it would create. I gave thee shelter but while I procured thy excommunication! The papers have arrived from the papal authority, and on the day that thou quittest thy native shores, thy name, branded with the anathemas of our holy mother church, will be sounded from every pulpit in the land. Go forth, accursed of God! and, after a life of wretchedness and sin, die, like a dog, unshriven and alone!"

I tore the treacherous paper into countless pieces, and cast them on the surface of the heaving sea. My catholic heart sunk at the potency of the friar's revenge, while my Louise, with a ghastly smile, endea

We were compelled to observe the severest seclusion, and could only leave our cell during the hours when visiters were refused admission to the monastery. The friar, who was the superior of the small establishment wherein we resided, daily repeated the most distressing results of our frailty, and detailed with frightful energy the awful curses showered upon our devoted heads. My injured brother, suspecting that a young hidalgo, with whom I had frequently associated, was acquainted with the secret of our flight, used language too violent to be passed over; a hostile meeting was the result-my brother received a dangerous wound, and his life was considered in positive danger. Louise's parent, a lady of the most sensitive temperament, had been raving mad since the intelli-vored to ridicule the effects of the villain's anger, gence of her child's dishonor had been made known. It was impossible to keep these events from the ears of Louise, for the officious monk seemed to delight in amplifying the details of our domestic misery. For several weeks he compelled us to remain within the gloomy walls of the friary, and listen to the daily repetition of the consequences of our crime, ere he would consent to our journeying from Spain, as we had ori-exposure to the fury of the storm, we landed, penniless ginally intended.

One morning, he rushed into the little cell wherein we had been immured, and insisted on our immediate departure. My father, whose gray hairs were bowed with sorrow at the sudden prostration of his house's glory, had burst a blood vessel, and expired, cursing my name with his departing breath. A rumor had spread abroad that we were concealed in the vicinity of the city, and the excited populace demanded the right to search the religious houses in the neighborhood.

A covered wagon, drawn by mules, was ready at the door. Louise, burning with fever, was placed upon the rough boards of the wagon floor, and hid her delieate figure in the folds of her mantilla. Disguised as

and strove to soothe me with the fond endearments of a guilty love.

The masts of the little bark bent beneath the impetus of a coming gale. For six days we labored with the elements, and on the seventh we were compelled to abandon the sinking sloop, and, in an open boat, trust to the mercy of the raging sea. After a night's

and starving, upon the English coast.

The hospitality of the beechmen furnished us with temporary shelter and food. An opportunity soon presented itself for the return of the Biscayan sailors to their native shores. We had no resource in our destitute condition but to remain where the ocean had cast us in its rage. My intimacy with the language served our purpose, and I passed for an Englishman who had been many years abroad; the amiable temper of Louise soon endeared her to the rough sympathies of the humble cottagers, and we both evinced every possible desire to share in their labors as a requital for our daily bread.

It was a strange, unnatural scene. A young and delicate female, cradled in the bosom of luxurious ease

This precarious support scarcely sustained the flame of life; my adored Louise welcomed me with a wan and piteous smile-her thin white lips, and pale, attenuated face, too truly told the dreadful tale. My children clung to my wet and weary limbs, and with the force of ravenous wolves they baited me for foodwhich I had not to give.

and accustomed to the idolatrous devotion of her rela- I waves and dangerous quicksands of that desolate coast. tives and friends, revisited the shores of her native land an outcast and a beggar-while her chosen one, for whom she had resigned all that makes life valuaable—the love of friends-the world's esteem-home, with all its joys and pleasurable cares-was unable to afford her the protection of a roof, or allay the pangs of hunger without charitable aid. We could not face the gaze of the world-our guilt had turned us into cowards. My wife, for so I called her, trembled at the sight of every well-dressed stranger, lest she should be recognized by any of her relatives, and I did not dare, even if afforded the means of travel, to place my accursed feet on catholic ground, with the anathema of the holy church on my devoted head. There was safety in our present obscurity; we could live-and love; the sea would afford us the means of life, and I could labor cheerily for the maintenance of my adored Louise.

LETTER II.

Here cast by fortune on a frowning coast,
Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast,
Where other cares than those the muse relates,
And other shepherds dwell with other mates,
By such examples taught, I paint the cot
As truth will paint it, and as bards will not.

The inhabitants of the neighboring town of Lowestoft had heard of the failure of the fishery and the consequent distresses of the beechmen; with conside rate humanity, they subscribed their mites towards our relief. This support, scantily enough applied, carried us into the depths of a severe winter, and then, from the limited resources of the towns-people, was suddenly withheld. I was returning, one evening from vainly soliciting an extension of aid, and cogitat ing on the disappointment of my starving family, when I was hailed by a beechman of the name of Baird, who resided in the hut adjoining mine, and was one of the partners in our ill-fated boat. His fierce and daring spirit was unsubdued by the pangs of hunger, and he openly revolted against the fate that pressed us down. He professed friendship for me, pitied the sufferings of my family, and forced me to drink from a small flask of ardent spirit which he had just obtained from a liquor shop in the town. The fiery liquid acted upon my empty stomach, and its fumes mounted to my brain. I listened to his plans of violence and theft, applauded each iniquitous scheme that promised relief from the An old boat hut, repaired with drift timber and gnawings of hunger, and promised to join him in a pieces o wreck, with a mud chimney and glassless well formed plan of present help and future wealth. windows, received the proud hidalgo and his sylph- A collier brig lay at anchor in the roads, about like Louise. I was allowed to join a party of beech-half a mile from the harbor's mouth. Baird had heard men who jointly owned a shore boat, as it was termed, that the skipper was expected at a drinking party held and conditioned to pay the value of my share from my at a neighboring tavern, and framed a plot for the allotted portion of the first year's earnings. It was a possession of the boat that was to bring the unsuspect wild and wearisome existence-fishing, far, far from ing seaman to the shore. After remaining in our conshore, in the dangerous deeps of the dark North Sea-cealment on the beach for nearly an hour, we heard or carrying stores to vessels in distress-claiming salv. the sound of the jolly boat's keel as she grated on the age from the owners of the craft rescued by our help sand. Baird walked down to the water's side, and from the dangers of the sand banks and the shoals-hailing the skipper, asked for a berth aboard his or revelling in the misery of a wreck, and sharing the craft. This, as he expected, was refused; and the spoils of our fellow creatures who had sunk beneath skipper, giving the boat in charge to the man who had the treacherous waves. assisted him in rowing ashore, went on his way. Baird

CRABBE.

posed treating him with drink if he would walk to the tavern at the harbor's mouth. The man consented; and taking a small grapnel from the boat, fixed it in the sand above high water mark. They departed, and were soon lost to my sight. I hastened down to the water's edge, removed the grapnel and headline, and pushing the small boat through the surf, paddled quiet

Years rolled on. We became inured to the hard-entered into conversation with the seaman, and pro ness of our way of life, and could I have drowned the recollection of what I had been and what I had performed, I might have been a happy man. Two boys were born to me, and their mother, my poor Louise, loved her children with the intensity of a mother's fondness, which poverty cannot chill nor obloquy destroy. One year, the herring fishery, which was our greatly with the tide along the coast, to the embouchure of support, entirely failed, and our large boat was dashed a small creek, where, according to agreement, I waited against the piles of the jetty by the equinoctial gales for the presence of my comrade. and totally destroyed. We were too poor to remedy this mishap, and the wretchedness of the neighboring inhabitants prevented them from affording us any relief Starvation glared in our faces; for several weeks we subsisted on the dead fish left by the receding tide, and used for firewood the wreck gleaned from the heaving surf, or gathered, at the risk of life, from the ice-cold

It was nearly midnight before he joined me. He had been compelled to assist the sailor in looking for his boat, and but for the darkness of the night, I must have been discovered in the strict search instituted by the skipper and his crew. We hauled the boat into a swampy bit of grass and reeds by the side of the creek, and, wading ashore, walked rapidly up a nar