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the manners and temper are, there fore, to be moulded by assiduous and affectionate care; and every precaution is to taken, that no taint of ill example should be suffered to come near. Then follow some precepts beautifully expressed, as to the necessity of instilling, as soon as may be, a sense of piety into the young pupil; and the unremitting attention which the father of the family must use, that every thing in his own carriage should be as it ought, and that without any appearance of study and intention, so as to work its effect by a silent and imperceptible influence. If the parent is conscious of his inability to perform this part, he is to seek out for another, on whom he may devolve the charge of his

son.

After the usual admonition to preserve a due mean between indulgence and severity in the treatment of the boy, the writer breaks out into a noble eulogium on Truth, the intermediate link between morals and speculative wisdom, which is, I think, the finest passage in the dialogue. For the latter part is reserved the course of reading. It is recommended, first of all, to encourage the child to a love of his book, by letting him see others, older than himself, caressed and rewarded for their application. No more knowledge of grammar is exacted from the learner than is requisite for enabling him to understand what he reads, and to express himself readily and correctly; and the difficulties of the art are very judiciously postponed to a riper age. He is then handed over to rhetoric and poetry, and put under the special tuition of Cicero, the idol of that time; after whom come the other orators and poets in the two learned languages of antiquity. A leaning to the Roman

writers is the fault of this latter part, which, on the whole, is less satisfactory than the former. Music is reluctantly permitted, and with a due caution against the corruption of the art, which had become merely a sensual indulgence, instead of the means of allaying and tempering the more violent emotions of the mind; but dancing (that favourite relaxation of Socrates) is proscribed, as utterly inconsistent with a manly gravity and sobriety of manners. The severer sciences are now approached; and last of all, she, to whom they are but subservient and introductory, Philosophy herself, with her two great ministers, Aristotle and Plato, receives the pupil at the apex of the mount, and either sends him back thoroughly furnished and fitted for whatever walk of active life he may choose, or, if he wisely prefer taking up his abode with her, guards him in blisful contemplation,

Where bright aërial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Far from the smoke and stir of this dim

spot.

Another eminent Italian, who was a contemporary with Sadoleti, has left us an extremely pleasing report of the manner in which he dedicated his time to the instruction of his two sons, in the retirement of his country villa. He, whom I speak of, is Fracastorio, the physician, to whom the palm in Latín verse is usually attributed among the moderns; and as the subject is much more agreeable than that of his longer and more celebrated poem, so has he been quite as successful in his manner of handling it. I am not aware that it has ever been introduced to the English reader; and a translation of it will form no unfit accompaniment to the foregoing remarks.

TO GIOVANNI BATTISTA TORRIANO.

Torriano, if my simple village farm

Could boast more joys a welcome guest to charm,
Or if I thought my friend could better brook
The scant convenience of this rustic nook,

Then should I covet thy dear company

Amidst Incaffi's mountains here with me,

These mountains, where, but that with chirpings shrill
The grasshoppers our lofty woodlands thrill,

I scarce that it were summer-tide could know,
So mildly does the air of July blow.

What though my shed be lowly! yet if pure
From sordid stain, from eddying dust secure ;
Yet if no sound unwelcome break my rest,
No guilt alarm me, and no care molest;
So peace throughout, and deep-felt quiet reign,
With Ease that brings the Muses in his train;
And the long slumber of the silent night:
Nought moves it me, though other eyes delight
In vermeil hues that on their ceilings shine;
Content to see the chimney-smoke on mine.

If round my walls no giant forms thou spy,
Hurl'd by Jove's lightning from the starry sky,
No life-impassion'd figures, that may claim,
A deathless guerdon for Romano's name;
Boon liberty awaits thee; she, who loves
Above all haunts the sylvan wild, and roves
With easy footstep, unconcern'd and gay,
Where chance impels, or fancy leads the way.
Some nicer rules if thou shouldst here offend,
Loll with too careless freedom on a friend,
Or haply from thy grasp the platter slip,
Or the press'd goblet sound beneath thy lip;
None marks thee. Sit or walk thou mayst at will,
Be grave or merry, fast or take thy fill."
In this retreat how circling days I spend,
What recreation with what studies blend,
Thou haply wouldst inquire; and on the view
Award of praise or blame the impartial due.
The dawn appears. Enchanted, I survey
In the broad east the kindling wheels of day,
That in no clime with state more radiant rise,
And woods, and rocks, and many-colour'd skies;
Then turn to clear Benacus' brimming lake,
Toward whose ample breast their progress take
A hundred streams, which green-hair'd Naiads pour
To swell the mighty father's crystal store.
Next from the breezy height I pleas'd discern
Up to the woods the lowing oxen turn,

And scatter'd o'er their pasture range the goats:
The master of the flock his beard denotes,
Shagged and crisp, and locks depending low ;
Stalking before the rest with measur'd pace and slow:
The goatherd damsel waves her wand behind,
A bunch of flax about her girdle twined,
That streams and flutters in the passing wind.
Meanwhile my sons, whom diligent I train
To venerate the powers that rule the plain,
I beckon to the shade: they straight obey
The call, with books to charm an hour away:
These on the grassy couch at random thrown,
Studious we con; or seated on a stone,

Where his rough arms the broad-leaved chestnut bends,
And charged with oily mast the beech impends;

The boughs on every side and thickets round,
With sport and song of feather'd warblers sound.

Sometimes the more to vary the delight,
Green alleys and the yielding turf invite
Amid the forest ways our feet to roam,
Till sharpen'd appetite reminds of home:
Then wearied and athirst the boys complain
Return too long delay'd; nor tuneful strain,

Pan, nor Lycæus with its umbrage hoar
Of whispering pine-trees can detain them more,
But on they speed with busy haste before;
With laughing wine the glass transpicuous fill,
And limpid waters sparkling from the rill;
In order due each ready vessel place,

And, mingling flowers between, the banquet grace.
I come: the orchard first supplies the board
With tender figs, or the dark mulberry stored;
The garden and the court the rest afford.

With frequent stroke meanwhile the granary rings:
Rebounding light the crackling harvest springs;
The heavy flail descending smites amain
The floor alternate and the sparkling grain;
Echoes the glen; the neighbouring rocks reply ;
And the light chaff floats upward in the sky.
Indulgent, on the sturdy thresher's toils,

Glad Ceres downward looks from heaven, and smiles.

Books, exercise, and slumber wing with down
Our following hours, whilst Procyon fires the town:
But at their close, when up Olympus' height
Emerging Hesper leads the host of night,
On the tall cliff I take my custom'd stand,
Point to their eager gaze the radiant band,
With love of its celestial home inspire
The youthful soul, and feed the sacred fire;
Wond'ring they learn to spell each shining star,
Cepheus, and Arctos, and Boötes' car.

And canst thou doubt, for this our calmer life,
To quit awhile the jarring city's strife?
To solitude and ease thy thoughts resign,
And change thy loftier pursuits for mine?

Our cell e'en great Naugero once adorn'd;
Nor Battus, favorite of the muses, scorn'd,
What time his harp first taught the list'ning groves
Their guardian Pan and Tellus' ancient loves:
Here also I, whom healing arts engage

In these last moments of my waning age,
Once more the Nine regarding, point my song
At the mad follies of the vulgar throng.

Lest these light numbers meet Ghiberti's glance, Beware: except at Bubulo, perchance,

On the green bank he nurse some milder mood,
Where rolls smooth Tartarus his tranquil flood.
For oft his gracious audience entertains

The gladden'd muse, nor slights her rustic strains.
But when his soul into herself retires,
(Whether to realms of light her wing aspires,
Ör meekly ministrant on rites divine

Duteous she bends before the hallow'd shrine,)
Then holds he sweet communion with the skies:
Nor lighter themes attract his awful eyes,
To whom the life, that angels lead, is given
On earth, to know, and antedate his heaven.

THE CORONATION.

Letter from a Gentleman in Town, to a Lady in the Country.

DEAR P - The newspaper which I sent, gave you, I fear, but a very faint idea of the magnificent and impressive ceremony of the Coronation, although I selected that which appeared to me to offer the most full and faithful account. But the short time allowed to the daily writer for the execution of his task, and the fatigue in which he was left, sufficiently apologize for his rapid, imperfect, and uncorrected relation. On reading the several papers of the day, I could not but feel, from my own disappointment in the description of such parts of the pageant as I did not myself behold, that your curiosity would be but miserably fed throughout. I could realize nothing from the long cold columns; every thing was named in processional order, but the relation would have suited the course of a funeral, as well as the order of a Coronation. I looked through the editor's glass; but I saw darkly! It is my intention now to give you as faithful a history of the day, as my memory will compass; and I hope that I shall be able in some measure, by the smooth honesty of my narrative, to apply a little balsam to your disordered and wounded curiosity. Pray let your sisters read this letter, and do not fail to sweeten your mother's herb tea with some of the richest morsels of the feast.

I was not put in possession of my ticket for Westminster-hall, until the day previous to the ceremony, so that I was thrown into an elegant bustle, about the provision of suitable habiliments for the occasion. Gentlemen of limited incomes are not proverbial for having layers of court dresses in their drawers, or for seeing the pegs in their passages swarming with cocked hats; I was compelled therefore "to wood and water," as the sailors term it, for the day, or, in plain words, to purchase the antique and costly coat, and the three cornered beaver, to fit me for appearing before royalty. I only wish you could have seen me cooked up for the Hall, you would have allowed that I was a dainty dish, to set before a king."

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The very early hour at which the doors of Westminster-hall were to be opened put to flight all notions of sleep; and he must have been a rash man indeed whose mind could dare for that night, to bend itself to bedward. At twelve o'clock I began to array myself, and I will not say how long I was employed in this perplexing work, let it suffice, that at half-past three o'clock, I was competent to sally forth from the house of a friend near the Abbey, and to approach that door of the House of Lords, by which I was to enter the Hall. Never was seen so calm and fair a morning, and the very freshness and breath of the country seemed, amongst other luxuries, to have been brought to Westminster for this day and its noble ceremony. I emerged a little before the sun, and had something of the feeling of being rather the brighter of the two;-but the soft sky over my head tempered the pomp and pride of my mind, and subdued me to quiet feelings, and more humility.

When I reached Abingdon Street, which, I must take leave to inform you of the country, is a street very near to the Hall of Westminster, I found soldiers, both horse and foot, standing and lying about in every direction. The chill of the morning seemed to affect them, and they were stretched at full length under the piazza, partaking of that comfortless sleep which the stones coldly afford, and the summoning trumpet breaks. A man, so minded, might have walked over foot-soldiers like so many mushrooms,-for they slumbered around in most gorgeous plenteousness. I walked idly about the street and the passages, looking into the carriages, which stood in line, filled with many feathers and a few ladies, or watching the workmen, even at this advanced hour, accomplishing the passage to the Abbey, or observing the small, but splendid, crowd, nestling around the yet unopened door,-or contemplating, amid all the confusion, and lustre, and pride of the space around me, the serene dawn opening above me in the sky, like a flower. The jingling and shining arms of the ca

valry, the courtly dresses of the approaching people, the idlesse of the sleeping soldiery, the dingy appearance, and earnest labours, of the workmen, the passing splendour of some richly clothed officer,-the echoing silence (if I may so express myself) of the air,-the tall, graceful, and solemn beauty and quiet of the Abbey, all contrasted-each with the other, and filled the mind with an excited consciousness that a great day was dawning. I felt this-and at length took my station at the door, anxiously waiting for admission.

The moment at length arrived, and the door was opened to the crowd. I advanced, ticket in hand, with a delight not easily to be depressed, and succeeded in gaining, by many passages, my entrance into the Hall.

I must endeavour to the best of my ability to give you a picture of Westminster Hall as I now beheld it. How different was its appearance at this time from that which it made not many moons past, when I was rushing about after wandering and pampered witnesses, and calling them together "to save my cause at Nisi Prius." Imagine a long and lofty room, (the longest and widest in Europe, I believe, without the support of pillars,) lined with two tiers of galleries covered with red cloth, and carpeted down the middle with broad cloth of blue. At the very end, facing the north, were erected two gothic towers, with an archway, which led to Palace-yard, and over this was a huge gothic window. The tables for the feast ran down on each side; and at the head, on a raised platform, was a bright gold throne, with a square table standing before it, on which was a costly blue cloth worked with gold. Doors on each side led up to the galleries. The dark fretted roof, from which hung bright chandeliers, was an admirable relief to the whole. You will perhaps have no very clear notion of the hall after this description, but I shall send you a sketch which has appeared in the Observer newspaper, by which you will be able to realize my imperfect picture.

I entered by a door behind the throne, and was astonished at the magnificent spaciousness and rich adornments of the place. The long galleries were nearly half filled, (for VOL. IV.

other doors had been previously opened), and adown the cloth-covered pavement all was life, and eagerness, and joy, and hope! Here you would see the pages putting back a cluster of plumed beauties, with a respectful determination and courtly haste.There you should behold a flight of peeresses, feathered, and in white attire, winging their way, as though in hopeless speed, like birds to their allotted dove-cotes. In one place you would behold some magnificent soldier, half in confusion, and half in self-satisfaction, pausing in bewildered doubt and pleasure over his own splendid attire. And in another part, those who had reached their seats were sighing happily, adjusting their dresses, and gazing around with delight at the troubles of others below them. I had much difficulty in attaining my "place of rest;" and, from the confusion of the pages, I verily believe that I attained it more from having "Providence my guide," than from meeting with any earthly assistance.

It might be about four o'clock, or a little after, when I took my seat. The light streamed in at the great window, like a flood of illumined water, and touched every plume, and every cheek. Expectation appeared to have given a bloom and life to each female countenance, as though to make up for the ravages which broken rest and fatigue had endeavoured to make. I beguiled the time, which might else have passed most tediously, by watching the several parties of peeresses, and others, enter from behind the throne, and pass by the state box, in which some of the royal family were seated at a very early hour. The most eager, and the most gorgeous lady, became spell-bound at the sight, and checked herself, in her maddest career, to drop a curtsey to "her Highness of Gloster." I was much pleased to see that when the Duchess of Kent, or any new member of the family, joined the illustrious party, the greetings had all the kindliness and affection of persons whose hearts are their whole wealth; and the young daughter of the Duchess was kissed as frankly and tenderly, as though she had had no diamond in her hair, and her eyes had been her only jewels. Over the royal box, the

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