and open; from a trunk also alternately open and shut; from a chimney-top; and from a cellar, with gradation of the voice as the person in the chimney and cellar ascended or descended. With his ventriloquial exertions alone we have to do here; and in these the illusion of confinement, freedom, distance, and gradual approach and recession, was complete. We were not disappointed in our hopes to obtain M. Alexandre's own account of his singular powers. He assured us-1. That his voice does not come from his stomach or belly, in which, as he said in ridicule, he has neither tongue nor teeth, and against which inelegant region he has a sort of ill-will, for having occasioned the disgusting as well as absurd name of ventriloquism to an art which is merely vocal illusion. He wished to have offered himself in England as a professor of vocal illusion; but was advised that John Bull loves the marvellous, and would rather give his money to see a man who can speak with his stomach than one who avowedly can only speak with his mouth. 2. That he possesses uncommon power and flexibility in the organs of speech: he can extend and contract the larynx or windpipe, which has great muscular strength, so as to produce all the gradations from a bass voice of great power to the shrillest squeak; and his tongue has a degree of flexibility and power of change of shape and position in the mouth which enable him to do anything with it he pleases. The exertion, he says, does not exhaust or fatigue him. 3. He is not conscious of speaking even during expiration; certainly he does not speak during inspiration upon any occasion. When he speaks en ventriloque, he is not aware that he breathes at all, but seems to use a confined supply of air, which he retains in his chest till the period is finished, when he breathes again. He must, however, although unconsciously, expend it in expiration as he speaks. This seems proved by what follows next. or any muscle of the face. M. Alexandre, in leaving Scotland, visited Abbotsford, where he entertained Sir Walter Scott and some of his friends with such success, that next morning the illustrious minstrel inserted the following lines in an album carried by the mimic :"Of yore, in old England, it was not thought good To carry two visages under one hood; What should folks say to you, who have faces such plenty, BETY AMBOS. MRS JAMESON, during a tour in Germany, accidentally met with a young woman returning home from the execution of a similar errand with that of the heroine Elizabeth, described so pathetically by Madame Cottin in her "Exiles of Siberia." There was, however, one striking difference between the two cases-Elizabeth was poor, while Bety Ambos, the German heroine, was rich. Yet, though the possession of wealth diminished some of the difficulties of the undertaking, it scarcely perhaps lessened the greatness of the moral worth; since it cannot be denied, that those who are accustomed to poverty are less alarmed at the prospect of its evils than the rich, who, reared amidst comforts and luxuries, have never encountered physical evils and privations. Mrs Jameson describes herself, when travelling to Frankfort, as attracted by the appearance of a female who alighted, amongst many other travellers, from a post-coach; her dress was extremely rich, her figure fine, and her countenance pretty, with a decided frank and good-humoured expression; her age appeared to be about two or three and twenty; her manner evinced innocence and modesty, mingled with the ease and self-possession of one accustomed to travel. She appeared to be an object of great interest to the persons of the house; and, after some little time, Mrs Jameson found that she was on her way home, alone and unprotected, from the wilds of Siberia. At a subsequent period, they again met at Frankfort, when Mrs Jameson renewed her acquaintance with her, and conveyed her in her carriage to Mayence, where she learned her whole history, which she gives with an apology for a failure of recollection respecting some of the names, dates, and circumstances, and with a promise that she will not supply these defects from her own imagination, adding" Of the animation of voice and manner, the vivid eloquence, and the grace and vi 4. That he can ventriloquise with his lips shut. 5. That he cannot articulate the labial consonants m, b, and p, without using the lips. When he uses these consonants, therefore, he turns away his face from the person he wishes to deceive. He endeavours as much as possible to avoid the labials, and then he can speak without the slightest movement of the lips 6. That he makes no use of echoes existing, much less does he create any, such a thing being far beyond human power. He scrupulously avoids places where echoes already exist, and this is the first thing he tries. 7. That he deceives the audience into the belief of the direction of the sound, entirely by previously fixing the direction, and trusting (which he never does in vain) to their imagination for the rest. He says, when he has fairly frightened people, which he has often done, he has no farther trouble; which way soever he looks, that becomes the direction of the dreaded sounds. He once horrified a party of visiters to the embalmed bodies of the Prince and Princess of Lignitz, in Silesia, in the vault in which they had lain 230 years. He first declared himself 250 years old, and that he was present at the interment, and then made the prince and princess complain of want of air, in consequence of an order of the magis-vacity of gesture with which the relation was made by tracy to prevent the coffin being opened to gratify public curiosity. The attendants, in consternation, made no attempt to prevent him from opening the coffins, for which service he received the grateful thanks of the prince and princess therein reposing, and an inconvenient quantity of holy water to exorcise him as he came out of the vault. Last of all, M. Alexandre declares that he has a ready perception of the varieties of sound, according to distances; and that each distance having its own specific sound, he imitates the sound as it is when it reaches his own ear. He has particularly studied this power of graduation, and has repeatedly imitated a person's voice who spoke at intervals as he receded above 300 yards. He has likewise sent a chimneysweeper up a vent, with instructions to speak down every few yards, and has imitated the voice in his gradations so exactly, that the persons in the room could not tell which was his and which the chimneysweeper's. On one occasion, in Vienna, at Prince Metternich's hotel, he hung a rope from the window of an apartment on the third floor from the ground, to which a weight was suspended to serve for a man, whom he undertook to pull up, and with whom he conversed every yard or two as he pulled the rope, the voice of the man gradually getting plainer, till he was at the window-sill, when, all at once, M. Álexandre allowed the rope to slip, and down went the poor man with a scream, and many a groan as he lay, knocked to pieces, on the ground. The company were terrified, and it required a clear exposition of the illusion to restore their composure. He gave no other account of his change of countenance in the nuns, quack-doctor, &c., than that his endeavour was to conceal himself, and imitate, or, as near as possible be, another person. He has often disguised himself by this means when he wished not to be known. Aware of the severe trial to which such exertions must put the nerves of voluntary motion, and the subservient muscles, we asked him if he has no fears of some permanent set in these hideous forms? He answered that, at Manchester, he did remain the quack-doctor some hours longer than he intended. He can remain voluntarily for a great length of time so metamorphosed." this fine untutored child of nature, I can give no idea." The following account is slightly altered from Mrs Jameson's narration: Bety Ambos was the daughter of a rich brewer and wine merchant, of Deuxponts or Zweibrücken, the capital of the provinces of the kingdom of Bavaria lying on the left bank of the Rhine. She was one of five children, two much older and two much younger than herself. Her eldest brother was called Henri: he had early displayed uncommon talents, and such a decided inclination for study, that his father determined to give him all the advantages of a learned education, and sent him to the university of Elangau, in Bavaria, whence he returned to his family with the highest testimonies of his talents and good conduct. His father now destined him for the clerical profession, with which his own wishes accorded. His sister fondly dwelt upon his praises, and described him as being not only the pride of his family but of all his fellow-citizens," tall, and handsome, and good," of a most benevolent enthusiastic temper, and devoted to his studies. When he had been at home for some time, he attracted the notice of one of the princes in the north of Germany, with whom he travelled in the capacity of secretary. It appeared that, through the recommendation of this powerful patron, he became Professor of Theology in the University of Courland, at Riga, or somewhere near it. Henri was at this time aged about twenty-eight. Here he fell deeply in love with the daughter of a rich Jew merchant, and endeavoured to convert the object of his affection: her relatives discovering their correspondence, the Jewess was forbidden to see or to speak to her lover; they, however, met in secret, and he prevailed upon her to change her faith and to fly with him beyond the frontiers, there to be baptised and to become his wife. Their plan was frustrated; they were pursued and overtaken by her relatives and the police. The Jews are protected at Riga, and the affair was brought before the tribunal, where Henri was accused of carrying off the girl by force. He defended himself by declaring that she had fled with him by her own free will, that she was a Christian, and his betrothed bride, as they had exchanged rings, or had gone through some similar ceremony. The father, on the part of his daughter, denied this, and Henri desired to be confronted with the lady, who was thus said to have turned his accuser. Her family made many objections, but by the order of the judge she was obliged to appear. She was brought into the court of justice, pale, trembling, and supported by her father and others of her kindred. The judge demanded whether it was by her own will that she had fled with Henri Ambos? She answered, in a faint voice, "No." "Had, then, violence been used to carry her off?" "Yes." "Was she a Christian ?" "No." "Did she regard Henri as her affianced husband?" "No." On hearing these replies, so different from the truth and from all he could have anticipated, the unfortunate young man appeared for a few minutes stupified;, then, as if seized with a sudden frenzy, he made a desperate effort to rush upon the young Jewess. On being prevented, he drew a knife from his pocket, which he attempted to plunge into his own bosom, but it was wrested from him; in the scuffle he was wounded in the hands and face, and the young lady swooned away. The sight of his mistress insensible, and his own blood flowing, restored the lover to his senses. He became sullenly calm, offered not another word in his own defence, refused to answer any questions, and was immediately conveyed to prison. family after the lapse of many months; but of his subThese particulars came to the knowledge of his sequent fate they could learn nothing. Neither his sentence nor his punishment could be ascertained; and although one of his relations went to Riga for the purpose of obtaining some information or redress, he returned without having effected either of the purposes of his journey. Whether Henri had died of his wounds, or languished in a perpetual dungeon, remained a mystery. Six years thus passed away. His father died; and his mother, who persisted in hoping while all others despaired, lingered on in heart-wearying suspense. At length, in the beginning of 1833, a travelling merchant passed through the city of Deuxponts, and inquired for the family of Ambos. He informed them, that in the preceding year he had seen and spoken to a man in rags, with a long beard, who was working in fetters with other criminals, near the fortress of Barinska, in Siberia, who described himself as Henri Ambos, a pastor of the Lutheran church, unjustly condemned; and who besought him, with tears and the most urgent supplications, to convey some tidings of him to his unhappy parents, and beseech them to use every means to obtain his liberation. The feelings which this intelligence excited must be left to the reader's imagination. A family council was held, and it was determined that application should be made to the police authorities at St Petersburg, to ascertain beyond a doubt the fate of poor Henri, and that a petition in his favour should be presented to the Emperor of Russia; but who was to present it? The second brother offered himself, but he had a wife and two children; the wife protested that she should die if her husband left her, and would not hear of his going; besides, he was the only remaining hope of his mother's family. The sister then said that she would undertake the journey, and argued that, as a woman, she had more chance of success in such an affair than her brother. The mother acquiesced. There was, in truth, no alternative; and being amply furnished with the means, this generous, affectionate, and strongminded girl set off alone, on her long and perilous journey; and receiving her mother's blessing, she silently vowed that she would not return alive without her brother's pardon. She entertained no doubt of success, because she was resolved to succeed. She had health and strength, and feared nothing. She reached the city of Riga without mischance. There she collected the necessary documents relative to her brother's character and conduct, with all the circumstances of his trial, and had them properly attested. Furnished with these papers, she proceeded to St Petersburg, where she arrived safely in the beginning of June 1833. She had been furnished with several letters of recommendation, and particularly with one to a German ecclesiastic, of whom she spoke with the most grateful enthusiasm. She met with the utmost difficulty in obtaining from the police the official return of her brother's condemnation, place of exile, punishment, &c. ; but at length, by almost incredible boldness, perseverance, and address, she was in possession of these, and with the assistance of her good friend, the pastor, she drew up a petition to the emperor. With this she waited on the minister of the interior, to whom, with great difficulty, and after many applications, she obtained access. He treated her with much harshness, and absolutely refused to deliver the petition. She threw herself on her knees, and added tears to intreaties; but he was inexorable, and added, brutally, "Your brother was a villain; he ought not to be pardoned; and if I were the emperor, I would not pardon him." She rose from her knees, and stretching her arms towards heaven, exclaimed with fervour-" I call God to witness that my brother was innocent; and I thank God you are not the emperor, for I can still hope." The minister, in a rage, said, "Do you dare to speak thus to me? Do you know who I am?" "Yes," she replied; "you are his excellency the minister C- -; but what of that? You are a cruel man; but I put my trust in God and the emperor." Thus she left him, without even a curtsy, though he followed her, speaking loud and angrily, to the door. sence. Her suit being rejected by all the ministers-for | she travelled for seven days and seven nights, sleeping even those who were most gentle, and who allowed in the carriage. She then reposed for two days, and then the hardship of the case, still refused to interfere, or posted on for another seven days and nights. Her sendeliver her petition-she resolved to do, what she had sations, as she was rapidly whirled over the wide solibeen dissuaded from attempting in the first instance tary plains, were so new and strange, that at times her -to appeal to the emperor in person. But it was in head seemed to turn (so she described it); she could vain she lavished hundreds of dollars in bribes to the scarcely credit her own identity. On waking in the inferior officers; in vain she beset the imperial suite middle of the night, alone, and unable immediately to at reviews, at the theatre, and on the way to church; collect her thoughts, she experienced a temporary invariably beaten back by the guards or the atten- feeling of fear, but never at any other time. Twice, dants, she could not penetrate to the emperor's pre- only, did she meet with insult; and although she After spending six weeks in daily ineffectual spoke of her journey as horrible, yet there were antiattempts of this kind, hoping every morning, and cipations of a happiness which made all fatigues light almost despairing every evening-threatened by the and all dangers indifferent. police, and spurned by the officials-Providence raised her up a friend in one of her own sex. Among some ladies of rank who became interested in her story and invited her to their houses, was a countess whose name is not recorded. This lady, perceiving the despair of her young friend, proposed to lend her on the next day her equipage, servants, and robes, when she should drive to the palace, and, under the name of the countess (who dared not present the petition herself for fear of exile), obtain an audience of the emperor. Overpowered with gratitude, Bety threw herself at the feet of the countess, unable to speak; and though the thought crossed her mind that the deception might risk the safety of her friend, she dismissed the idea, for she had resolved to obtain her brother's pardon at every hazard. This plan was soon arranged; and at the time appointed she drove up to the palace in a splendid equipage, preceded by a running footman, with three laced lacqueys, in full dress, mounted behind. She was announced as the Countess Elise who supplicated a particular audience of his majesty. The doors flew open, and in a few minutes she was in the presence of the emperor, who advanced one or two steps to meet her, but suddenly started back. On on a bed. recovering her senses, the caleche and all were gone, and she herself proceeded on her journey. The scene which had occurred appeared so strange, so like a dream, that, on reaching Berlin, she wrote to the officer of the customs, to beg that he would attest that it was really true. Mrs Jameson parted with this interesting girl at Mayence, after seeing the pardon and many other documents, all proving the truth of the story, even to the minutest particulars. Here the relation ends. Whatever her subsequent fate, however severe her own disappointments, and the fresh trial that awaited her in breaking the melancholy news to her mother, the reader feels that Mademoiselle Ambos was supported by the greatest of all consolations-the consciousness of duty well performed. At length, in the beginning of August, she arrived at the end of her journey, and was courteously received by the commandant of the fortress. She presented the pardon with a hand which trembled with HINTS FOR PICTURE CRITICISM. impatience and joy, too great to be restrained, almost to be borne. The officer looked very grave, and took, EXHIBITIONS of the works of living artists are spreadshe thought, a long time to read the paper, which ing over the country, particularly into the manuconsisted only of six or eight lines. At last he stam-facturing districts, where it is understood there is mered out, "I am sorry-but the Henri Ambos men- occasionally a good deal of wall requiring the proper tioned in this paper is dead." Poor girl! she fell to covering. It must be very annoying to the conductors the earth. of country newspapers, when, after living happily for years without knowing anything of pictures, like Goldsmith's professor who knew nothing of Greek, they find themselves suddenly called upon to exhibit taste and learning in the fine arts, in order to convey to their readers proper information and sound criticism on the various works of art which have been hung up for show in their town. For persons of this class, it is evidently desirable that there should be some instructions afforded in the art of writing proper criticisms on the works of the pencil and brush; that is to say, not merely such empty common-places as "So-and-so is a rising artist," and "The Blind Beggar is perhaps the finest work of art in the room," but real, deep, knowing-looking criticism, which will pass muster with the general public, and advance, or at least support, the character of the paper. Now, such instruction we believe we shall be able in some measure to present, by a sketch of the system of Tom Barker, as confessed to by himself. She had travelled thus far to seek a brother, and found but his grave. The unfortunate man had died a year before. The fetters in which he worked had caused an ulcer in his leg, which he neglected, and, after some weeks of horrid suffering, death released him. The taskwork, for nearly five years, of this accomplished and even learned man, in the prime of his life and mental powers, had been to break stones upon the road, chained hand and foot, and confounded with the lowest malefactors. She found, on inquiry, that some papers and letters which her unhappy brother had drawn up by stealth, in the hope of being able at some time to convey them to his friends, were Bety had, fortunately, no dread of rank or power; in possession of one of the officers, who readily gave her heart did not fail her; she sprang forward, and them up to her; and with these she returned, half knelt at his feet, exclaiming, with clasped hands-broken-hearted, to St Petersburg. If her former Pardon, imperial majesty! Pardon !"' "Who are journey, when hope cheered her on the way, had been you?" said the emperor, astonished; "and what can so fearful, what must have been her return! She I do for you?" He spoke gently, more gently than was seized with a dangerous illness, and was for many any of his ministers; and overcome, even by her own weeks confined to bed. hopes, she burst into tears, and said-" May it please your imperial majesty, I am not Countess Elise -; I am only the sister of the unfortunate Henry Ambos, who has been condemned on false accusation. Oh, pardon-pardon! Here are the papers-the proofs. Oh, imperial majesty! pardon my poor brother!" Still kneeling, with one hand she held out the petition and papers, while with the other she pressed the skirt of his embroidered robe to her lips. Not heeding the emperor's command to rise, she still held out the papers; at last, apparently much moved, he extended one hand towards her, and taking the papers with the other, said, "Rise, mademoiselle; I command you to rise." Kissing his hand, and weeping, she intreated him to read the paper. He replied, "I will read it." Bety then rose from the ground, and, as he read the petition, eagerly watched his countenance; it changed, and he once or twice exclaimed, "Is it possible? This is dreadful!" When he had finished, he folded the paper; and, without any observations on its contents, said, at once, "Mademoiselle Ambos, your brother is pardoned." The poor girl, scarcely knowing what she said, but with the words ringing in her ears, again fell at the emperor's feet, and poured out her gratitude and blessings. Her story excited much commiseration, and a very On receiving her brother's pardon from the em- he professed to be displeased. Considering the eminence which this gentleman attained, it seems pretty clear that a full and particular exposition of the means by which he became a critic of pictures will serve to illuminate those who have occasion to write on that subject without having given it any previous study. Tom was a tradesman in a provincial city, who chose to support by his pen a certain specimen of the free and independent British press, called "The Herald." He had been contented for many years to contribute letters on neglected crossings and pavement-encumbering apple-women; but when an exhibition of pictures was set up in his native town, he had at length risen to be a critic on works of art. The editor of the newspaper which he patronised looked "No-constantly to him for a series of articles on the pictures exhibited ; and, to do Tom justice, his criticisms were drawn up in a very imposing manner. Artists alternately capered with joy, or were sunk in despair, according as the "Herald" praised or condemned one of their productions. Tom's criticisms became noted articles, and for years no one ventured to dissent from She left Petersburg in October, and proceeded to his authority. Many of the leading artists were so Riga, where those who had known her brother re- sensible of the value of having Tom's good word, that ceived her with interest and kindness, and sympa- they would occasionally send him bits and first thised in her affliction. She had resolved to see the draughts gratuitously, all of which he hung up in his Jewess who had been the cause of all her brother's parlour to let his ignorant neighbours know what a misfortunes; she felt that to say to her, "Your false- great man he was. When any of them were particuhood has done this," would be a source of satisfaction; larly anxious to secure Tom's approbation, they would but her brother's friends persuaded her that such an invite him to their studios, and consult him about the act could do Henri no good, that it was wrong, that proper management of the subject which they were it was unchristian; she yielded, and left Riga. handling; and it oftener than once happened that he On her return, she received the congratulations of Having reached the Prussian frontiers, she stopped ruined their picture by taking up a brush, and in his her benefactress, the Countess Elise and of her at the custom-house, where, on searching her pack-cool way rubbing out a considerable group with which good friend the pastor; but both advised her to keep ages, the chief officer, observing her address on a her audience and the emperor's promise a profound trunk, exclaimed, “Mademoiselle Ambos! Are you secret. She was the more inclined to do this, because, any relation of the Professor Henri Ambos ?" On after the first burst of joyous emotion, her spirits hearing that she was his sister, the officer explained sank. Recollecting the pains that had been taken to that he was the intimate friend of her brother, and shut her out from the emperor's presence, she feared inquired what had become of him. In learning his some unforeseen obstacle, or even some knavery, on unhappy fate, the officer with tears expressed his the part of the officers of government. Her sufferings commiseration, and pressed on Mademoiselle Ambos during the next few days were fearful; her agitation, offers of service and hospitality; but her impatience her previous fatigues, and the terrible suspense, appato reach home increased hourly, and her funds were rently threw her into a fever, or acted on her excited getting low. The driver had heard her relate the sad nerves so as to produce a kind of delirium; but her story to the officer; and on stopping at the next town composure soon returned, for just five days after her to feed his horses, he came to the door of the carriage, interview with the emperor, a lacquey, in the imperial and informed her she had just missed seeing the livery, came to her lodging, and put a packet into her Jewess lady, who, with her sister and her sister's hands, with the emperor's compliments to Mademoi-husband, had passed in a caleche. What followed must selle Ambos. It was her brother's pardon, signed and be read with an allowance for continental feelings and sealed by the emperor. Those mean officials, who had the peculiar excitability of one who had gone through before spurned her, now pressed upon her with offers of such tremendous trials. Bety ordered the driver to service, and even the minister C- offered to expedite drive back as fast as possible to the custom-house, where the pardon himself to Siberia, in order to save her she knew the party would be delayed. On reaching it, trouble; but she would not suffer the precious paper she saw a caleche; trembling with agitation and emoout of her hands. She determined to carry it herself, tion, she went up to it. Two ladies were sitting within; to be herself the bearer of the glad tidings; she had and addressing the most beautiful, she asked, "Are resolved that none but herself should take off those you Mademoiselle de S-?" Her manner was profetters, the very description of which had entered her bably strange and startling, for the lady addressed soul; so, having made her arrangements as quickly as replied, in a frightened manner, "I am-who are possible, she set off for Moscow, where she arrived in you?-and what do you want with me?" On hearing three days. this reply, she said, "I am the sister of Henri Ambos, whom you murdered." The lady screamed aloud, and some men ran from the house. Holding fast by the carriage door, Bety continued "I am not come to hurt you; but you are the murderess of my brother, Henri Ambos. He loved you, and your falsehood has killed him." Having uttered other fearful expressions, while the lady stared at her with a ghastly expression, she fell into a fit, and was carried into the house of the custom-house officer, her brother's friend, and laid According to her description, the town in Siberia to the governor of which she carried an official recommendation, was nine thousand versts beyond Moscow; and the fortress to which the wretched malefactors were exiled was at a great distance beyond that. Mrs Jameson says, "I could not well make out the situation of either; and, unluckily, I had no map with me but a road map of Germany, and it was evident that my heroine was no geographer." After leaving Moscow, Tom gave a full account of his art as a picturecritic to a friend who had one day treated him to a remarkably good dinner. A sufficiency of champagne, followed up by a competency of Burgundy, had opened his heart, or perhaps rather lulled asleep his caution, and he gave his confessions with an air which, it is to be feared, was not quite free of the spirit of boasting. "How did I become a critic of pictures, say you! why, I will tell you. The fact is, my dear fellow, I know little or nothing of art; and how could I? But I know something that is better; I know all the technical terms which the artists employ. My first business was to pick these up; after that it was all smooth sailing. You may turn critic to-morrow if you only follow my plan. Look you," said he, his bright eyes twinkling like stars, "if you would wish ever to be a critic, you must have your vocabulary at your finger ends. I would have you begin with a few simples, such as breadth, depth, light, shade, cast, style, tone, energy, purity, outline, repose, unobtrusive, fore-shorten, and, above all, chiaro-oscuro-that is a term sure to tell. And, then, you must have your list of compounds-correct outline, admirably contrasted, felicity of expression, clear and transparent, dark and gloomy, skilfully blended, grace and dignity, fineness of thought, harmony of colouring, breadth of expression, sweetness of tint, easy and flowing pencil, exuberant foliage, admirable study, grand relief, splendour diffused, juxtaposition, boldness of fore-shortening, exquisite morceaux ! And then, my boy," he continued, whipping off a bumper with the rapidity of lightning-" And then, my boy, you must be pre pared with your choice bits, such as-touched with inexpressible fire and spirit, great richness and vigour ousness of colouring, delightful union of harmony, chiaro-oscuro wonderful and effective, grand perspective beauty, nothing better conceived or more happily executed, grounds charmingly broken, coloured with great sweetness, designed with infinite ease, grace, or anything-accustomed boldness of decision, fine receding of the objects-an elegance in the whole which perfectly conceals the poverty of why any thing. And observe, my dear boy, when you are presented with a grand performance which you cannot understand, just conclude with-a degree of boldness bordering on temerity." The auditor thought that the famous critic would have halted here; but no-he was not done yet. There were the requisite cuts and banters, such as-" faulty in expression, injudiciously introduced, out of keeping, want of relief, slovenly production, offensively gaudy, careless of reputation, somewhat awkward and constrained, not exempt from vice of mannerism, fore-shortening monstrous, an abortion, a painted absurdity-a what?" Finally, to crown all, a few of his sly rubs in the way of advice, only one of which is remembered, and that, probably, from its almost ridiculous affectation of expression. It was to this effect. "This artist might have even added to the perfection of this his chef-d'œuvre, had he been a little more sparing of his yellow! And now," said Tom, flourishing his glass, "if you can recollect but one half of this lecture, you may dub yourself a genuine critic to-morrow morning." We leave the gentlemen of the press to fructify upon the hint. That the population so exposed is less susceptible of moral influences, and the effects of education are more transient than with a healthy population. That these adverse circumstances tend to produce an adult population short-lived, improvident, reckless, and intemperate, and with habitual avidity for sensual gratifications. That these habits lead to the abandonment of all the conveniences and decencies of life, and especially sound morality, and refinement in manners and health, are not long found co-existent with filthy habits amongst any class of the community." ONE OF OUR FORGOTTEN POETS. THE names of Donne, Herrick, and Carew, are now well known to every lover of true poetry. Not so familiar is the name of Richard Crashaw; but it is one that merits to be associated with theirs, as the designation of a genuine son of the muses. Crashaw That defective town-cleansing fosters habits of the was one of the remarkable band of writers who, giving most abject degradation, and tends to the demoralisa- loose to the free notions that inspired the universal tion of large numbers of human beings, who subsist mind of England in the reign of the first Charles, shook by means of what they find amidst the noxious filth off from the national literature the pedantic trammels accumulated in neglected streets and by-places. in which the tastes of James I. had bound it, and reThat the expenses of local public works are in gene-stored to it the freshness and the fire of its earlier days. ral unequally and unfairly assessed, oppressively and He was the son of a clergyman of the English church, uneconomically collected, by separate collections; and was born in the beginning of the seventeenth cenwastefully expended in separate and inefficient opera- tury. Educated in the first instance at the Chartertions by unskilled and practically irresponsible officers. house, he afterwards became a scholar of PembrokeThat the existing law for the protection of the public health, and the constitutional machinery for Cambridge. The fellowship was held by him in 1637, hall, and fellow of Peter-house, in the University of reclaiming its execution, such as the Courts Leet, and at that time he had attained distinction as a have fallen into desuetude, and are in the state indi- preacher, and as a man of learning and poetical genius. cated by the prevalence of the evils they were intended His first efforts in verse were some Latin poems, pubto prevent. Secondly, As to the means by which the present sanatory of the academical leisure hours of his youth. These lished so early as 1634, and the fruit, most probably, condition of the labouring-classes may be improved:-. The primary and most important measures, and at pieces possess very considerable merit. Besides his skill in the Latin tongue, Crashaw is said to have the same time the most practicable, and within the been master of the Greek and Hebrew, as well as of recognised province of public administration, are the Italian and Spanish languages. drainage, the removal of all refuse of habitations, plies of water. SANATORY CONDITION OF THE LABOUR- streets, and roads, and the improvement of the sup ING POPULATION. CONCLUSIONS. WE trust it will scarcely be deemed superfluous to quote in this place the conclusions at which Mr Chadwick arrives at the close of his Sanatory Report. If any of our readers have overlooked the three articles given in preceding numbers of the Journal on that subject, we earnestly intreat their attention to them; but alike for those who have, and those who have not read these articles, the following still more brief and expressive summary will be worthy of a careful perusal: "First, as to the extent and operation of the evils which are the subject of the inquiry: That the various forms of epidemic, endemic, and other disease caused, or aggravated, or propagated chiefly amongst the labouring classes by atmospheric impurities produced by decomposing animal and vegetable substances, by damp and filth, and close and overcrowded dwellings, prevail amongst the population in every part of the kingdom, whether dwelling in separate houses, in rural villages, in small towns, or in the larger towns, as they have been found to prevail in the lowest districts of the metropolis. That such disease, wherever its attacks are frequent, is always found in connexion with the physical circumstances above specified; and that where those circumstances are removed by drainage, proper cleansing, better ventilation, and other means of diminishing atmospheric impurity, the frequency and intensity of such disease are abated; and where the removal of the noxious agencies appears to be complete, such disease almost entirely disappears. That high prosperity in respect to employment and wages, and various and abundant food, have afforded to the labouring classes no exemptions from attacks of epidemic disease, which have been as frequent and as fatal in periods of commercial and manufacturing prosperity as in any others. That the formation of all habits of cleanliness is obstructed by defective supplies of water. That the annual loss of life from filth and bad ventilation is greater than the loss from death or wounds in any wars in which the country has been engaged in modern times. That of the 43,000 cases of widowhood, and 112,000 cases of destitute orphanage relieved from the poor's rates in England and Wales alone, it appears that the greatest proportion of deaths of the heads of families occurred from the above specified and other removeable causes; that their ages were under 45 years; that is to say, 13 years below the natural probabilities of life, as shown by the experience of the whole popu lation of Sweden. That the public loss from the premature deaths of the heads of families is greater than can be represented by any enumeration of the pecuniary burdens consequent upon their sickness and death." That, measuring the loss of working ability amongst large classes by the instances of gain, even from incomplete arrangements for the removal of noxious influences from places of work or from abodes, this loss cannot be less than eight or ten years. That the ravages of epidemics and other diseases do not diminish, but tend to increase the pressure of population. That in the districts where the mortality is the greatest, the births are not only sufficient to replace the numbers removed by death, but to add to the population. That the younger population, bred up under noxious physical agencies, is inferior in physical organisation and general health to a population preserved from the presence of such agencies. That the chief obstacles to the immediate removal of decomposing refuse of towns and habitations, have been the expense and annoyance of the hand-labour and cartage requisite for the purpose. That this expense may be reduced to one-twentieth That refuse, when thus held in suspension in water, That for successful and economical drainage, the That appropriate scientific arrangements for public drainage would afford important facilities for private land-drainage, which is important for the health as well as sustenance of the labouring-classes. That the expense of public drainage, of supplies of water laid on in houses, and of means of improved cleansing, would be a pecuniary gain, by diminishing the existing charges attendant on sickness and premature mortality. That for the protection of the labouring-classes, and That the oppressiveness and injustice of levies for That by appropriate arrangements, 10 or 15 per That for the prevention of the disease occasioned by defective ventilation, and other causes of impurity, in places of work and other places where large numbers are assembled, and for the general promotion of the means necessary to prevent disease, that it would be good economy to appoint a district medical officer, independent of private practice, and with the securities of special qualifications and responsibilities to initiate sanatory measures, and reclaim the execution of the law. That by the combinations of all these arrangements, it is probable that the full insurable period of life indicated by the Swedish tables (that is, an increase of thirteen years at least) may be extended to the whole of the labouring-classes. That the attainment of these and the other collateral advantages, of reducing existing charges and expenditure, are within the power of the legislature, and are dependent mainly on the securities taken for the application of practical science, skill, and economy in the direction of local public works. And that the removal of noxious physical circumstances, and the promotion of civic, household, and personal cleanliness, are necessary to the improvement of the moral condition of the population; for that Richard Crashaw was ejected from Peter-house in 1644 by the parliamentary army. After his ejection, he betook himself to France, and there embraced the Roman Catholic religion. It is unnecessary to inquire by what motives he was actuated on this occasion. Necessity was most probably the leading cause. His conversion enabled Henrietta Maria, queen of Charles I., to compensate so far his losses as a royalist, by recommending him to the ecclesiastical dignitaries of Italy; and on going thither, he was made a canon of Loretto, from which situation he derived sufficient emolument to maintain life in comfort. Crashaw's English poems seem to have been published for the first time in 1647, under the title of 'Steps to the Temple; Sacred Poems, with other Delights of the Muses." As he had in all likelihood left England previously to the year mentioned, they may have been there issued by his friends, in order to Cowley or Herbert, both of them his warm friends procure him some little store of funds; and possibly and admirers, may have done him that service. Crashaw was of the same school of poetry with Cowley; a school by which ingenuity of similitudes appears to have been deemed the chief end of the bard, and the staple of his art. Though mingled at times with such a leaven of feeling and passion as redeems them from the character of mere glittering conceits, too many of the pieces of Crashaw, it must be admitted, exhibit the peculiar feature in question to a faulty excess. Yet, as has been said, he was a true poet, and the pur suit of erroneous models cannot hide the fact. The following verses, for example, though extremely fanciful, possess much tenderness. They are headed, "The Weeper:" "The dew no more will weep The primrose's pale cheek to deck; Nuzzled in the lily's neck. Steals from the amber-weeping tree, As the drops distilled from thee. Then she is dressed by none but thee. When they red with weeping are Sits sorrow with a face so fair. Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet." More simple than the preceding lines, and more- "To these whom Death again did wed, But we shall not take up our space with these slighter specimens of Crashaw. We wish to give as large a portion as possible of a more elaborate piece, which is nominally a translation from the Latin of Strada, but in which the translator has far excelled his original, exhibiting, as an able critic says, "a wonderful power over the resources of our language," and producing an English poem of eminent beauty. It is entitled Music's Duel," and the subject is the contest of the nightingale with the lutist, so finely treated by Ford in his "Lover's Melancholy." Crashaw opens the subject beautifully, and with the easy strength of a master : "Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams Of noon's high glory, when hard by the streams Of Tiber, on the scene of a green plat, Under protection of an oak, there sate A sweet lute's master; in whose gentle airs Close in the covert of the leaves there stood Of closer strains, and e'er the war begin, Charged with a flying touch; and straightway she Quick volumes of wild notes, to let him know Of short thick sobs, whose thund'ring volleys float, His honey-dropping tops, plough'd by her breath, In that sweet soil it seems a holy choir, Shame, now, and anger mix'd a double stain The poet goes on to describe most vividly the succeed- "And she, although her breath's late exercise She fails, and falling, grieves, and grieving, dies- (That lived so sweetly) dead, so sweet a grave!" PROGRESS OF VACCINATION. IN No. 458 of this Journal, a statement was made with Since that time, the reports of the poor-law commis- been found that many persons have not availed themselves of the benefit thus provided by the legislature, from an apprehension that the acceptance of it would, so far as respects the elective franchise, be tantamount to the acceptance of relief or alms, and so operate to disfranchise the party whose child might thus be vaccinated. Others of the guardians refused taking proceedings because they have doubted whether the act authorised the payment of the remuneration for vaccination out of the poor-rates. Both these doubts, however, have now been completely removed by a short amending act (4th and 5th Vict., cap. 32) recently passed, which expressly enables the guardians to defray the expenses of vaccination out of the poor rates, and also declares that vaccination under the act shall not be considered to be parochial relief, and that no person shall be deprived of any right, or subject to any disability, by reason of such vaccination. The most serious obstacle which impedes the progress of vaccination, and more particularly in Ireland, is the difficulty which the vaccinator finds in inducing persons who bring their children to the stations to be vaccinated, to return on his next visit and afford him the opportunity of judging whether or not the vaccination has been successful. Others of them evince the greatest unwillingness to permit a supply of lymph to be taken from their children, which is necessary for the vaccination of others, and not in the slightest degree hurtful to those from whom it is taken. The failure to return at the proper time to enable the vaccinator to inspect the progress of the operation is attended with three bad consequences; it prevents him from certifying the successful result of the vaccination, which is the most important point of all; it has the effect of limiting the necessary supply of lymph or cow-pox virus; and it goes to deprive the vaccinator of his remuneration, which is sufficiently small as it is, by disabling him from furnishing the requisite certificate of successful vaccination, upon which his remuneration depends. In Ireland, efforts have been made to obviate these difficulties, by compelling the parties to leave a deposit of sixpence or a shilling, which is to be returned on the successful issue of the case, and provided the child is brought on the preFor the purpose of carrying the Vaccination Ex-scribed days, and that liberty is given to take lymph tension Act into effect, the commissioners directed from the vesicle; which have had the desired effect in each of the English poor-law unions to be divided into most cases of insuring the return of the parties. districts, and in each of such districts vaccination stations to be appointed, so numerous and so near to each other, that few persons would have to travel more than two miles to the station to have their children vaccinated, and ordinarily the distance would be much less. The local boards of guardians were also required to enter into contracts with properly qualified medical practitioners for the attendance and performance of vaccination at each of such stations periodically on a fixed day and hour. Where the population is sufficiently numerous to admit of it, the commissioners have preferred a weekly attendance by the vaccinators at each station, so that the persons vaccinated in one week are inspected the next; and from the cases so inspected, vaccine matter can at once be taken so as to vaccinate from arm to arm those who are then in attendance to be vaccinated. Where the population is less dense, they have recommended a series of weekly attendances during part of the year only; and where the population is scanty, and the stations numerous, they have acquiesced in a very limited number of attendances in the year at each station. On the 1st of May 1841, the date of the seventh report, such arrangements as have been described, or similar, had been entered into in 533 out of 583 of the unions, for giving effect to the act; and between that time and the 1st of May of the present year, thirtyeight unions in which the provisions of the act are now in force had been added, besides twenty-two unions and parishes under local acts. Similar arrangements for vaccination under the act, differing only so far as to suit certain local peculiarities, have also been made in the unions in Ireland, as these have from time to time been formed. Up to the 25th of March last, vaccination contracts had been entered into throughout the whole of eighty-eight unions in Ireland, and partially in twelve others, embracing a population of nearly five millions and a half; and the total number of persons returned as successfully vaccinated up to the last-mentioned date was 104,713. The commissioners have been desirous of obtaining information from the tables published by the registrar-general, as to the mortality arising from small-pox, which has taken place since the passing of the vaccination act, as compared with the mortality, from the same cause, known to have taken place in former years; but from the very recent introduction of the machinery for vaccination throughout the kingdom, the returns published do not as yet embrace any part of the time since the passing of the act, though they ultimately will. There have been many obstacles opposed to the introduction and progress of the vaccination act, which have been only partially removed. Although it was tending the practice of vaccination among the poor, perhaps more especially passed with the view of exstill, in point of fact, no distinction of that kind is made in the act, which provides for the vaccination of the whole community alike, without reference as to whether the applicants for vaccination are paupers or not. We fear this has never been generally understood, and that the misapprehension which prevails on this point originated in the introduction of the act being intrusted to the poor-law commissioners. It has Some degree of prejudice, too, prevails, especially in Ireland, against the use of cow-pox, but this is stated to be rapidly wearing away. It is likewise to be feared that a great deal of ignorance still exists in all parts of the kingdom as to the provision made by the legislature in respect to vaccination, and the arrangements made for carrying this provision into effect. We hope to be instrumental in some degree of conveying information relative to this important subject into quarters which it may not yet have reached. We say to every parent in England and Ireland having children to vaccinate, "Go instantly to the proper vaccinating station of your district, and get the operation performed according to the rules laid down by the medical attendant. You cannot be too thankful for the offer of so great a boon, free of either expense or trouble, and which is so likely to save the lives of your offspring." We may add," How much better off are you than the people of Scotland, who are born and vaccinated, no one cares how, and of whose children great numbers perish for want of those institutions with which you have been blessed!" FISHING IN THE OHIO. MR AUDUBON, the ingenious American naturalist, in one of his volumes of ornithology, presents the following simple sketch of the mode of fishing in the Ohio, many years ago, or at least previous to the introduction of steam navigation on the western waters : "It is with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret that I recall to my mind the many pleasant days I have spent on the shores of Ohio. The visions of former years crowd genial atmosphere of our great western garden, Kentucky, on my view, as I picture to myself the fertile soil and and view the placid waters of the fair stream that flows along its western boundary. Methinks I am now on the banks of the noble river. Twenty years of my life have returned to me; my sinews are strong, and the bowstring of my spirit is not slack;' bright visions of the future float before me, as I sit on a grassy bank gazing on the glittering waters. Around me are dense forests of lofty trees and thickly-tangled undergrowth, amid which are heard the songs of feathered choristers, and from whose boughs Reader, I am very happy. But now the dream has hang clusters of glowing fruits and beautiful flowers. vanished, and here I am in the British Athens, penning before me sundry well-thumbed and weather-beaten an episode for my Ornithological Biography, and having folios, from which I expect to be able to extract some interesting particulars respecting the methods employed in those days in catching cat-fish. But before entering on my subject, I will present you with a brief description of the place of my residence on the banks of the Ohio. When I first landed at Henderson in Kentucky, my family, like the village, was quite small. The latter consisted of six or eight houses; the former of my wife, myself, and a young child. Few as the houses were, we fortunately found one empty. It was a log-cabin, not a log-house; but as better could not be had, we were pleased. Well, then, we were located. able provisions rather scarce; but our neighbours were The country around was thinly peopled, and all purchasfriendly, and we had brought with us flour and baconhams. Our pleasures were those of young people not long married, and full of life and merriment; a single smile from our infant was, I assure you, more valued by us than all the treasures of a modern Croesus would have been. The woods were amply stocked with game, the river with fish; and now and then the hoarded sweets of the industrious bees were brought from some hollow tree to our little table. Our child's cradle was our richest piece of furniture, our guns and fishing-lines our most serviceable implements; for although we began to cultivate a garden, the rankness of the soil kept the seeds we planted far beneath the tall weeds that sprung up the first year. I had then a partner, a man of business,' and there was also with me a Kentucky youth, who much preferred the sports of the forest and river to either daybook or ledger. He was naturally, as I may say, a good woodsman, hunter, and angler, and, like me, thought chiefly of procuring supplies of fish and fowl. To the task, accordingly, we directed all our energies. Quantity as well as quality was an object with us, and although we well knew that three species of cat-fish existed in the Ohio, and that all were sufficiently good, we were not sure as to the best method of securing them. We determined, however, to work on a large scale, and immediately commenced making a famous trot-line.' Now, reader, as you may probably know nothing about this engine, I shall describe it to you. A trot-line is one of considerable length and thickness, both qualities, however, varying according to the extent of water, and the size of the fish you expect to catch. As the Ohio, at Henderson, is rather more than half a mile in breadth, and as cat-fishes weigh from one to a hundred pounds, we manufactured a line which measured about two hundred yards in length, as thick as the little finger of some fair one yet in her teens, and as white as the damsel's finger well could be, for it was wholly of Kentucky cotton, just, let me tell you, because that substance stands the water better than either hemp or flax. The main line finished, we made a hundred smaller ones, about five feet in length, to each of which we fastened a capital hook of Kirby and Co.'s manufacture. Now for the bait. It was the month of May. Nature had brought abroad myriads of living beings; they covered the earth, glided through the water, and swarmed in the air. The cat-fish is a voracious creature, not at all nice in feeding, but one who, like the vulture, contents himself with carrion when nothing better can be had. A few experiments proved to us that, of the dainties with which we tried to allure them to our hooks, they gave a decided preference, at that season, to live toads. These animals were very abundant about Henderson. They ramble or feed, whether by instinct or reason, during early or late twilight more than at any other time, especially after a shower, and are unable to bear the heat of the sun's rays for several hours before and after noon. We have a good number of these crawling things in America, particularly in the western and southern parts of the Union, and are very well supplied with frogs, snakes, lizards, and even crocodiles, which we call alligators; but there is enough of food for them all, and we generally suffer them to creep about, to leap or to flounder as they please, or in accordance with the habits which have been given them by the great Conductor of all. During the month of May, and indeed until autumn, we found an abundant supply of toads. Many fine ladies,' no doubt, would have swooned, or at least screamed and gone into hysterics, had they seen one of our baskets filled with these animals, all alive and plump. Fortunately we had no tragedy queen or sentimental spinster at Henderson. Our Kentucky ladies mind their own affairs, and seldom meddle with those of others, farther than to do all they can for their comfort. The toads, collected one by one, and brought home in baskets, were deposited in a barrel for use. And now that night is over, and as it is the first trial we are going to give our trot-line, just watch our movements from that high bank beside the stream. There sit down under the large cottonwood tree. You are in no danger of catching cold at this season. My assistant follows me with a gaff-hook, while I carry the paddle of our canoe; a boy bears on his back a hundred toads as good as ever hopped. [Arriving at the station, and the hooks being baited with toads,] the line is left in the river, and there it may patiently wait, until I visit it towards night. Now I take up my gun and notebook, and, accompanied by my dog, intend to ramble through the woods until breakfast. Who knows but I may shoot a turkey or a deer? It is barely four o'clock; and see what delightful mornings we have at this season in Kentucky! ferable to the last, but not so common; and the yellow mud cat is the best and rarest. Of the blue kind, some have been caught that weighed a hundred pounds. Such fishes, however, are looked upon as monsters. When the waters are rising fast, and have become muddy, a single line is used for eatching cat-fish. It is fastened to the elastic branch of some willow several feet above the water, and must be twenty or thirty feet in length. The entrails of a wild turkey, or a piece of fresh venison, furnish good bait; and if, when you visit your line the next morning after you have set it, the water has not risen too much, the swinging of the willow indicates that a fish has been hooked, and you have only to haul the prize ashore. One evening I saw that the river was rising at a great rate, although it was still within its banks. I knew that the white perch were running, that is, ascending the river from the sea, and anxious to have a tasting of that fine fish, I baited a line with a cray-fish, and fastened it to the bough of a tree. Next morning, as I pulled in the line, it felt as if fast to the bottom, yet, on drawing it slowly, I found that it came. Presently I felt a strong pull, the line slipped through my fingers, and next instant a large cat-fish leaped out of the water. I played it for a while, until it became exhausted, when I drew it ashore. It had swallowed the hook, and I cut off the line close to its head. Then passing a stick through one of the gills, a servant and I tugged the fish home. On cutting it open, to our surprise we found in its stomach a fine white perch, dead, but not in the least injured. The perch had been lightly hooked, and the eat-fish, after swallowing it, had been hooked in the stomach, so that, although the instrument was small, the torture caused by it no doubt tended to disable the cat-fish. The perch we ate, and the cat, which was fine, we divided into four parts, and distributed among our neighbours. My most worthy friend and relative, Nicholas Berthoud, Esq., who formerly resided at Shippingport in Kentucky, but now in New York (a better fisher than whom I never knew), once placed a trot-line in the basin' below Tarascon's Mills," at the foot of the rapids of the Ohio. I cannot recollect the bait which was used; but on taking up the line, we obtained a remarkably fine cat-fish, in which was found the greater part of a sucking pig. A STORY OF NAPOLEON. A YOUNG man was passing with his regiment through Lyons in 17-, where he fell sick, and was obliged to remain at an hotel. He found himself very ill supplied with money, and his purse was speedily exhausted by the expenses his malady occasioned him. The hostess, untouched by his destitute situation, had him carried into a granary, where all the furniture she allowed him was a paillasse and a chair, and all the sustenance a little barley water, refusing to call in the aid of a physician, to avoid the responsibility in which she apprehended such an additional charge might involve her. It happened that the first floor of this furnished hotel was occupied by two Genevese ladies, Madam and Mademoiselle Agiee, who had visited Lyons for the benefit of change of air; they were both advanced in years, Mademoiselle Agice being nearly fifty. These two ladies were clever and well-informed; but, according to an unfortunate habit, they did injustice to their real merit by a pretension to something beyond it, and a pedantry completely national. The fate of the young soldier interested all the domestics of the hotel, and the particulars of his friendless condition reached the ear of Mademoiselle Agiee through her maid, who acquainted her at the same time with the cruelty of the landlady, who threatened to send him to the hospital. The maid succeeded in awakening the sympathy of her mistress, who immediately sent for a physician, informing the hostess that she would answer all expenses, and that it was her pleasure that the sick man should be removed, without delay, to a comfortable chamber. The humane waiting-maid, meanwhile, never quitted the chamber of the invalid whom she had taken so happily under her protection. Weakened by his illness, which had been so aggravated by neglect, the young soldier was in a frightful state of delirium when the physician visited him, and during the process of changing his apartment, so that, when he recovered his senses, he was greatly astonished to find himself in a well-furnished chamber, and believed himself dreaming. Near his bed was his faithful nurse, whom he began to question, but who contented herself with replying, that a friend, who Evening has returned. The heavens have already took an interest in him, had given orders that he should opened their twinkling eyes, although the orb of day has be properly attended. Days and even weeks passed yet scarcely withdrawn itself from our view. How calm thus, till at length the young soldier, recovering his is the air! The nocturnal insects and quadrupeds are strength, insisted on being informed to whom he was inabroad; the bear is moving through the dark canebrake; debted for so many benefits. There was, in the expresthe land-crows are flying towards their roosts; their aqua- sion of his countenance, something that commanded retic brethren towards the interior of the forests; the squir- spect-which, perhaps, even excited fear: the good worel is barking his adieu, and the barred owl glides silently man named her mistress, and with all possible delicacy and swiftly from his retreat, to seize upon the gay and related to him the miserable circumstances in which she noisy animal. The boat is pushed off from the shore; had found him. He intreated to see Mademoiselle Agiee, the main-line is in my hands; now it shakes; surely some that he might lighten his heart of some of its gratitude. fish have been hooked. Hand over hand I proceed to the He was not yet able to rise, nor was he permitted to first hook. Nothing there. But now I feel several jerks read; but he was, nevertheless, sufficiently reinstated to stronger and more frequent than before. Several hooks feel the weight and weariness of an idle life. MademoiI pass; but see! what a fine cat-fish is twisting round and selle Agiee consented to the demand of the young solround the little line to which he is fast. Nat, look to dier, and paid him her first visit. She remained with your gaff; hook him close to the tail. Keep it up, my him only a few moments, but promised to return and dear fellow. There now, we have him! More are on, and bring him books, desiring him to make his choice, and we proceed. When we have reached the end, many goodly offering to read for him till he should no longer be forfishes are lying in the bottom of our skiff. New bait has bidden to occupy himself. He accepted her proposal been put on, and, as we return, I congratulate myself and with joy, and selected the "Life of Turenne," and a book my companions on the success of our efforts, for there on geometry. Every day Mademoiselle Agiee passed lies fish enough for ourselves and our neighbours. some hours with the convalescent soldier, who listened Several species or varieties of cat-fish are found in the eagerly as she read, often interrupting her to make obOhio, namely, the blue, the white, and the mud cats, servations, which were always just, and sometimes very which differ considerably in their form and colour, as well striking. He did not seem easily inclined to confidence; as in their habits. The mud cat is the best, although it and it was not till some time had thus elapsed, that one seldom attains so great a size as the rest. The blue cat day, as if led on by a military ardour beyond his power is the coarsest, but when not exceeding from four to six to restrain, he began to speak of his projects to Madepounds, it affords tolerable eating. The white cat is pre-moiselle Agiee: she smiled as she listened to him. "In truth," said she, “I believe we shall one of these days see you a colonel." "Colonel !" replied he, in a tone of indignation, "I shall be a general, and perhaps"- but he interrupted himself, as if alarmed at what he was about to say, and perhaps even internally rebuking himself for what he had said. "Until now," said Mademoiselle Agiee, "I have never asked you a single question, either with regard to your family or country. By your accent I conceive you to be a foreigner, although you belong to a French regiment." "I am a Corsican, and my name is Napoleon Bonaparte. Mademoiselle Agiee every day became more and more interested in Napoleon; and when he was entirely recovered, she equipped him, and supplied him with money necessary to enable him to rejoin the regiment. On taking leave of his benefactress, the young man was much affected. "Believe me," said he, "I shall never forget what you have done for me! you will hear of me." He departed, and Mademoiselle Agiee returned with her mother to Geneva. Very soon the name of Napoleon be→ came celebrated; and Mademoiselle Agiee, in reading the gazettes, exulted in the success of her protégé, who, meanwhile, seemed to have entirely forgotten her. Years passed thus away, when, some time before the battle of Marengo, Bonaparte passed through Nyon, a little town of the Canton de Vaud, twelve miles from Geneva, on his way to Italy; he could only stop a few hours; he sent an aide-de-camp to Geneva, with orders to inquire for a lady, named Agiee, very ugly and old, and to bring her to him: such were his directions. The aide-de-camp soon succeeded in finding Mademoiselle Agiee. She had become nearly blind, and very seldom quitted her own house, but the name of her hero seemed to inspire her with new strength, and she hesitated not to follow his messenger. Bonaparte was impatient, and came to meet his friend on horseback, attended by his staff, at Versoix; as soon as he perceived her carriage, he spurred on to receive her, and the feelings of Mademoiselle Agiee, on this rencontre, may better be imagined than expressed. "Gentlemen," said Bonaparte, turning towards his suite, you see my benefactress, she to whom I am indebted for life; I was destitute of everything when she suc coured me. I am happy and proud to be obliged to her and I shall never forget it." Mademoiselle Agiee passed two hours at Nyon with Bonaparte, at the hotel of the Croix Blanche, where he detailed to her all his plans; and on taking leave of her, repeated the same words he had uttered at Lyons, "You will hear of me." From that hour to the epoch of Napoleon's coronation, she received from him no token of his existence; but fifteen days before the coronation, General Hullin was announced to Mademoiselle Agiee. He desired her to prepare to accompany him, as Bonaparte was resolved that she should witness his glory; he was furnished with the strictest and most minute orders. Mademoiselle Agiee was permitted to carry nothing with her beyond what was indispensable during the journey; and in spite of her age and infirmities, the day after the general's arrival she set out. On arriving at Paris, she alighted at a house in the Place du Carousal, opposite to the Palace of the Tuilleries; there she found domestics in the livery of Bonaparte; and, in short, a completely furnished mansion and a well-stocked wardrobe had been prepared for her. Bonaparte had recollected even her favourite colours, and had omitted nothing he imagined would give pleasure. She had a long audience with Napoleon; and he assigned her, besides a house, carriage, and domestics, maintained at his expense, an annual income of six thousand francs. He continued to preserve towards Mademoiselle Agiee the most marked regard, often consulting her even on the most important affairs. On the fall of Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Agiee lost the house and the advantages he had conferred upon her; but I believe her pension was always regularly paid by the agents of Napoleon till her death, which happened in 1822. It was from herself that I received the details I have given. It is easy to imagine with what animation she descanted upon her hero; even without partaking her enthusiasm, it was impossible not to listen to her with interest. Besides, noble and generous sentiments belong to our intellectual existence; no matter what country they belong to, or what are our opinions, the emotions of the heart will not wait to consult our prejudices. Mademoiselle Agiee died in the Hotel de la Rouchefoucault, Faubourg du Roule, at Paris, of which she inhabited a small wing, after having quitted her house in the Place du Carousal. CONSUMPTION IN MAN AND THE LOWER THE greater part of the sitting of the Parisian Academy of Science of July 25, was occupied with the reading of a paper by M. Rayer, on consumption in man and the lower animals. M. Rayer remarks, that animals in a state of nature are particularly subject to the development of parasitical insects, but that, with few exceptions, they are not subject to tubercles in the lungs, or in any of the other organs. The case, however, is very different in the vertebrated classes in a state of domesticity and captivity, particularly in the former. In the monkey, when removed from its native climate, phthisis is, he says, a very common disease. M. Wolfthigel relates a case of a tiger affected with phthisis; Perrault mentions a lion; Youatt and Martin speak of a tiger and a lion thus affected. Owen found the same disease in a kinkajou. M. Rayer states that he found tubercles and their excavations in the lungs of a jaguar. In the domestic dog consumption is of rare occurrence, but inflammation of the lungs is very common. Of two hundred and forty-two dogs examined, two were phthisical, and thirty-one had general symptoms of inflammation of the lungs. In the division of the animals called rongens, consumption is rare; ex amples, however, have been found of this disease in rabbits, squirrels, and guinea-pigs, particularly when in a state of domesticity. M. Rayer could never discover tubercles in rats. M. Morand states that the prevailing disease with the latter is stone in the kidneys. In the domestic and captive ruminating animals, for instance, in |