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either of the aorta or of the cœliac artery. the means most likely to succeed in mitiWhen the pulsation has continued for se- gating or removing this complaint, menveral years without the health being mate- tion is made of improving the digestion, rially impaired, even if the boundaries of diminishing the irritability of the constithe artery should not be distinctly felt, yet tution, and, above all, relieving the mental there is the strongest reason to believe that anxiety of the patient. the pulsation of the artery does not depend upon an aneurismal swelling in it." As

JACOB DYCKMAN, M. D. New-York, May 31st, 1817.

ART. 16. MISCELLANY.

For the American Monthly Magazine. MESSRS. EDITORS, HAVE lately been reading two works of a very different description, both as to matter and manner, viz. The Pastor's FireSide, by Miss Porter, and the Narrative of Captain Riley; and as they are both written in the English language, and have

occasion, in one or two instances, to relate circumstances of a similar nature, I have been not a little amused by the difference

of style and diction between a fine accom

plished lady, and a rough, or rather plain unlettered mariner. I have therefore taken the liberty to send for insertion, in your entertaining Magazine, a couple of little specimens extracted from each of the above-mentioned publications, and which may be thus entitled

The Style Superb, and the style simple; or the Magnificent Miss Porter, contrasted with the plain captain Riley.

The first subject of comparison is the process of making tea, and the business of serving it out to the company. "Early in the morning," says Captain Riley, " Rais desired me, in Arabic, to make some tea; so I took out the kettle, had it filled with water, and made a fire with a few sticks, and soon had the tea ready for drinking. The men and boys, in and near the village, came now to congratulate Sidi Mohammed, who directed me to pour out for each of the men, a cup of tea, which he made thick with sugar."

Now let us see how this same process is managed by the elegant Authoress of the Pastor's Fire-Side.

the advantage over Captain R. from the circumstance of her having more materiel, as the French term it, for her description, viz. coffee and cakes. Unfortunately, however, she has, in one particular, made a little mistake, and to use a vulgar saying, has put the cart before the horse, by dealing out her coffee first, and kneading

the cakes afterwards.

a

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The second specimen is a description of man's getting up at sun rise. “The night," says the author of the Narrative, passed slowly and tediously away; when daylight began to dawn in the horizon and chased darkness before it; not to usher to our view the cheering prospect of approaching relief, but to unfold new scenes of suffering, wretchedness, and despair."

How beautifully, and with how much unaffected diction is the same circum

stance described by Miss Porter; " After
a night of profound sleep, the bright smile
of the awakened sun played on his eye-
lids, and starting from his pallet with his
usual morning spring of joy, he hailed the
brilliancy of the opened day." As it
might possibly be objected to this me-
taphor of the "awakened sun," that it
presupposes him to have been asleep, it
may be answered, that there is good rea-
of the author of Hudibras.
son for this supposition from the authority

"The sun had long since in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap."

To be serious, however, Mess. Editors, it is not my intention to attempt any disparagement of the talents, taste, or ingenuity of the accomplished authoress of the " Pastor's Fire-Side." I am animadverting merely on her style, which in too many instances is exceedingly affected, and devoid, throughout, of that chaste and elegant simplicity which distinguishes the compositions of Miss Edgeworth. Yours, &c.

"Mrs. Connigsby presided over the dispersion of her fragrant tea, whilst her daughters, blooming with the freshness of the dewy flowers, did the honours of the coffee, and kneaded cakes." How dignified, fanciful, and brilliant! the very cakes seem to be rising under our eyes, and we imagine ourselves inhaling "the fragrant quintessence of tea," as Dr. DarA correspondent has transmitted the win beautifully expresses it. It should subjoined extract in answer to an inquiry not be forgotten, however, that Miss P. has in the New Monthly Magazine: "Whence

UNDER THE ROSE.

A.

did this proverb arise: Under the rose be it spoken?"

"The rose being dedicated by Cupid to Harpocrates, the god of Silence, to engage him to conceal the amours of Venus, was an emblem of silence; whence, to present it or hold it up to any person in discourse, served instead of an admonition that it was time for him to hold his peace; and in entertaining rooms it was customary to place a rose above the table, to signify what was there spoken should be kept private. This practice is described in the following epigram:

"Est rosa flos Veneris, cujus quo facta late

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The following article taken from the New [London] Monthly Magazine, relates to a meteorological phenomenon, which seems to have been synchronous with an occurrence of a similar kind in Vermont, which is noticed in the Miscellaneous department of our Magazine for May:

"Being out on horseback in the dark fierce squalls and showers of Saturday night, (Feb. 15th,) with the wind direct in my face, I observed on the edges and extremities of the ears of my horse, during the heaviest rain and most violent wind, a luminous appearance, as if the ears had been smeared with some phosphoric matter, or traced by the course of a glow-worm. I have heard and read of this phenomenon, but never before saw it, and I shall be much obliged to any of your travelling correspondents to inform me if they have observed the same appearance on that or any other night, and to any of your philosophical correspondents to explain how so curious an effect is pro

duced.

Monday, 17th Feb. 1817.

LUXURY.

H. EDON.

The progress of luxury in the last century is strongly marked by the facts furnished in the following paragraph from a British Magazine.

"It is recorded in a Review of London, published near a century since, that the first coffee-house ever established in England was kept by a barber, named James Farr, at the sign of the Rainbow, opposite Chancery-lane, which still goes by the

same name. In 1708, he was presented by the inquest of St. Dunstan's in the west, for making and selling a liquor called coffee, as a great nuisance, and prejudicial to the neighbourhood. Who would then have imagined, that in the progress of fifty succeeding years, such nuisances should have increased to no less a number than 3000 ? In 1768, when the signs were taken down, to give free circulation to the air in the streets of the metropolis, and the numerous taverns decreased, coffee-houses continued to multiply, in consequence of the opinion of the College of Physicians, who stated publicly, that coffee was a wholesome beverage. It was then received into general estimation, and continued to be drank with avidity until the present day, when it appears by the register at the licensing office, that there are upwards of 9000 coffee-houses existing in London and its environs.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

It will be perceived by the variety of signatures and ciphers with which the different articles in the different departments of this number are marked, that the Editors have received the assistance of several able hands. Such aid they earnestly solicit, and for such services they will not confine their gratitude to thanks. It may not be amiss to observe, that the Editorial designations are uniformly E. and L.

are

Several Communications have been received, which for various reasons omitted.-Among other contributions are two attempts at blank verse, of which it is enough to say, that they are not above mediocrity. In this species of composition, indeed, there is hardly a medium between good and bad,-what does not decidedly belong to the first should be ranked with the last.

The Editors particularly invite Agricul tural Communications and Essays, relating not only to modes of culture, but to the history of insects that have injured the crops, and the indication of means of destroying them. It is hoped some valu able information may be obtained on these points. Statistical accounts will, also, be very acceptable. Hereafter, a monthly list of Patents granted in the United States, with a notice of the nature of the improvements for which they are claimed, will be published in this work, the Superintendant of the Patent Office having obligingly consented to furnish it at the request of the Editors.

AMERICAN MONTHLY MAGAZINE

AND

CRITICAL REVIEW.

No. IV.....VOL. I.

AUGUST, 1817.

ART. 1. The Sylphs of the Seasons, with other Poems. By W. Allston London. W. Pope. 1813. 12mo. pp. 164.

POETRY and painting are kindred tive, are the mechanical branches which arts. A refined sensibility to beau- constitute the difference of their arts. ty and deformity, a voluptuous relish The rank of painting is, however, for the luxury of nature, and an ex- subordinate to that of poetry. Its quisite perception of the shades of powers are restricted by the laborious character and sentiment, are essential to the attainment of excellence in either. The same fervour of fancy is requisite to both. The painter's, as well as The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

process of their exhibition, and when drawn out with the utmost skill and force, are still limited in duration of scene to an instant of time. It is for this reason, probably, that poetry is al

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to ways in advance of painting; and that

heaven,

And as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown,

the artist's pencil no less than

the poet's pen,

it is so, is, again, the motive which induces the latter so often to borrow hints from the creations of the former.

Considering the proximity of these

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing two links in the commune vinculum of A local habitation, and a name.

the arts which humanize society, it is The resemblance between the pro- somewhat remarkable that instances of fessions, holds, too, in another point, their combination in individuals should mere enthusiasm is incompetent to por- so rarely occur. That it is the business of tray its own conceptions however vi- an ordinary life to attain to eminence in vid, a great painter and a great either line, is, to be sure, a strong ground poet must alike be formed by study and with the candidate for fame for confining institution. The elementary course of his efforts to effecting a proficiency in their education is parallel. Expansion the single path he may have selected, is given to the same powers of mind; by which to reach the summit of his the same models are held up to their ambition. But when we reflect that it admiration ;-similar passions are to be is not common minds that court renown, delineated by each, and both are intent and that talent alone can ensure it, we to catch the living features. It is only cannot but wonder that the elastic in the application of principles to prac- bound of genius does not oftener overtice, that their paths diverge. Ver- leap the slender barrier that separates sification and colouring, plot and perspec- these congenial pursuits. MichaelAngelo, VOL. I. NO. IV,

2!

indeed, was not content to be the great- "The Sylphs of the Seasons," which est painter and statuary in the world. To gives its title to the volume, is a plea show what he might have been, would sing little allegory, in which the charms he have resigned his pallet and his chi- of the varied year' are fancifully desel, he has left a collection of sonnets picted. The poet recounts a vision, and canzonets not unworthy of Petrarch. wherein he had been transported in His imitators, however, are as few in imagination to an enchanted castle, in a this respect, as they are numerous in fairy land, where all the Seasons reignevery other. ed in gay confusion, and

Where every Season seemed to shed

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a bright saloon,
That seemed illumin'd by the moon,
So mellow was the light.
The walls with jetty darkness teem'd,
While down them crystal columns stream'd,
And each a mountain torrent seem'd

High-flashing through the night.
Rear'd in the midst, a double throne,
Like burnish'd cloud of evening shone;

While, group'd the base around,
Four Damsels stood of Faery race;
Who, turning each with heavenly grace
Upon me her immortal face,

These observations have been excited by the volume before us, which Her own peculiar hue. brings with it two recommendations, to On blowing the bugle horn,' the 'porneither of which can we ever be indif- tals' open and the poet enters. He is ferent,-it is the production of a coun- hailed on his arrival, in a seraphic tryman and an artist. And here we voice, as Nature's chosen Child,' descannot refrain from congratulating our tined to rule over this lovely domain. selves on the high distinction in the Proceeding through 'glittering halls' be Fine Arts, which American genius has reaches, at last, achieved in the British metropolis. Our compatriots West, Copley, Stuart, and Trumbull, occupy the first rank in the phalanx of living painters, whilst Allston, Leslie, &c. keep pace with the proudest of their competitors in the honourable career of their profession. Nor are we ashamed of Mr. Allston as a bard. Poetry appears to have been resorted to by him as a recreation,-laborum dulce lenimen,-and his pieces partake, principally, of the character of elegant amusement. The delicacy of his tact has kept him back from the vulgar extravagances of the fashionable metrical romance writers. He saw that freebooters, ravishers, and assassins, ignorance, atheism, and profligate atrocity, were equally unworthy objects of representation on paper or on the canvass. He knew that agreeable imitations of nature were the only legitimate objects of the fine arts, and scorned to prostitute a handmaid of the muses to ruffian desires. Mr. Allston's effusions are sportive but chaste, lively but moral; and are every where indicative of a purity of feeling, that sometimes ap proaches to fastidiosity. His poetic fame will not probably eclipse his professional reputation, though we are much deceived if his poetical studies have not materially contributed to his proficiency in the graphic art.

Transfix'd me to the ground.
And thus the foremost of the train:
Be thine the throne, and thine to reign
O'er all the varying year!
But ere thou rulest, the Fates command,
That of our chosen rival band

A Sylph shall win thy heart and hand,
Thy sovereignty to share.
For we, the sisters of a birth,
Do rule by turns the subject earth

To serve ungrateful man;
But since our varied toils impart
No joy to his capricious heart,
'Tis now ordain'd that human art
Shall rectify the plan.

Their

The Sylphs then, in order, enumerate
their claims to his preference.
various powers of pleasing are interest-
ingly displayed- and contrasted. We
fine moral lessons.
select the description of Autumn for its

And now, in accents deep and low,
Like voice of fondly-cherish'd wo,

The Sylph of Autumn said:
Though I may not of raptures sing,
That grac'd the gentle song of Spring,
Like Summer, playful pleasures bring
Thy youthful heart to gladi

Yet still may I in hope aspire
Thy heart to touch with chaster fire,

And purifying love:

For I with vision high and holy,
And spell of quick'ning melancholy,
Thy soul from sublunary folly
First rais'd to worlds above.

What though be mine the treasures fair
Of purple grape and yellow pear,

And fruits of various hne,
And harvests rich of golden grain,
That dance in waves along the plain
To merry song of reaping swain,

Beneath the welkin blue;

With these I may not urge my suit,
Of Summer's patient toil the fruit,
For mortal purpose given :
Nor may it fit my sober mood
To sing of sweetly murmuring flood,
Or dies of many-colour'd wood,

That mock the bow of heaven.

But know, 'twas mine the secret power
That wak'd thee at the midnight hour,
In bleak November's reign:
'Twas I the spell around thee cast,
When thou didst hear the hollow blast
In murmurs tell of pleasures past,

That ne'er would come again:
And led thee, when the storm was o'er,
To hear the sullen ocean roar,

By dreadful calm opprest;
Which still, though not a breeze was there,
Its mountain-billows heav'd in air,
As if a living thing it were,

That strove in vain for rest.
'Twas I, when thou, subdu'd by wo,
Didst watch the leaves descending slow,
To each a moral gave;
And as they mov'd in mournful train,
With rustling sound, along the plain,
Taught them to sing a seraph's strain

Of peace within the grave.
And then uprais'd thy streaming eye,
I met thee in the western sky

In pomp of evening cloud;
That, while with varying form it roll'd,
Some wizard's castle seem'd of gold,
And now a crimson'd knight of old,
Or king in purple proud.
And last, as sunk the setting sun,
And Evening with her shadows dun,

The gorgeous pageant past,
'Twas then of life a mimic show,
Of human grandeur here below,
Which thus beneath the fatal blow
Of Death must fall at last.

Oh, then with what aspiring gaze
Didst thou thy tranced vision raise

To yonder orbs on high,
And think how wondrous, how sublime
"Twere upwards to their spheres to climb,
And live, beyond the reach of Time,

Child of Eternity!

After listening to all each had to urge, the poet still remained in suspense, un

able to choose between them ;-thus intimating the wisdom of their alternation.

The tale of The Two Painters' is told with some humour, and were not all application disclaimed, we should suspect it was designed as a caustic.

The next poem in the Collection is called Eccentricity.' This is a Satire, containing about five hundred lines. It affords some pungent couplets, but its shafts seem to be aimless,--or rather they are aimed at marks set up merely to be shot at. Its portraits are caricatures, in which every natural lineament is exaggerated to such a degree as to ren der ridicule harmless. There are, too, in it, a few phrases, which seem to be used by the poet in a sense appropriated to them by some circle or club of which he is a member, but which lose their point from our ignorance of the It is deformed, besides, by some undignified and most abortive puns. We might refer to several painful ellipses in this piece,-it is enough to notice one,

cunt.

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