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FORTUNATUS.-A melo-dramatic specta- | lately had occasion to speak in terms of the | Jerome is not in the cave." I understand

cle, taken from Dekker's play of Old Fortunatus," and very closely following that wild original, was produced on Monday for the holiday-folks: our theatres are very glad of the holiday excuses at Christmas and Easter, to get up shows which last out the season. And as a show nothing can exceed this piece; the scenery is such a mixture of beauty and splendor, as almost to surpass any preceding drama, and the machinery is really stupendous and magically perfect. Enchanted forests appear and disappear as if by enchantment; and the Wishing Cap seems in reality to possess the virtues attributed to it. To those therefore who admire, indeed all must admire, such magnificent efforts,-but to those who can admire them for two hours together, there never was a higher treat than Fortunatus. For ourselves, we confess we like the mind to share in the delectation of the eye, and were therefore rather tired than entertained by the spectacle. If we could have got hold of the Cap, we should have been at home in a trice soon after ten o'clock, instead of sitting in the theatre till twelve, though we witnessed the purse many times replenished, the struggles of Virtue, Vice, and Fortune, for the destiny of the hero, and the changes from Cyprus to Egypt, from Egypt to England, and from England we know not whither. In short, though we saw grand sights, in an uninteresting performance, we must pronounce it not first rate," though built on the hull of a High Decker.

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THE MINOR THEATRES.

These Theatres acquire more interest from the state of the Major Houses, which either from their size being injurious to acting, or from poverty, or from mismanagement, have become less attractive than in former times. The Italian Opera is not on the highest footing with regard to musical talent, nor even in the ballet; Covent Garden, with nearly "all the talents," is still running wild after spectacle, and seems to have forgotten Shakspeare; and Drury Lane-but nothing need be said of Drury Lane, except that it has confessedly sunk into an inferior rank, inferior in its prices, inferior in its performances, inferior in its company, whence one entire department, the opera, is banished, and all lovers of music sent to accustom themselves to the rival theatre, and inferior in every thing.

highest admiration. It re-opened with a
serious melo-drama founded on Douglas, a
Harlequinade pic nic called the Lambeth
Pedlar, and a new serio-comic drama, en-
titled the Hermit of Mount Pausilippo.
Several new performers, and Incledon, are
announced.

SADLER'S WELLS, with the interior en

tirely remodelled and decorated. A farcical
dancing, a pantomime called the Talking
piece on the Poor Soldier, tight-rope
Bird, in which Grimaldi be-clowns it, and
a musical drama made out of Macbeth.
"Much novelty (say the bills) in prepara-

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you, sir,' replied Vernet, I will alter it.' He therefore took the painting and made the shade darker, so that the Saint seemed to sit farther in. The gentleman took the painting, and it again appeared to him that the Saint was not in the cave. Vernet then wiped out the figure and gave it to the genshewed the picture, he said, "Here you see tleman, who seemed perfectly satisfied. Whenever he saw strangers to whom he cave." But we do not see the Saint,' rea picture by Vernet, with St. Jerome in his "Excuse me, gentleplied the visitors. there, for I have seen him standing at the men," "answered the possessor, he is entrance, and afterwards farther back, and ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE, ASTLEY'S. A am therefore quite sure that he is in it." melo-drama of Amazons; leaping, tum- Morand, author of La Capricieuse, was bling, and horsemanship, and concluding in a box of the Theatre during the first rewith another grand melo-drama of a Rus-presentation of that comedy; the pit loudly sian national aspect, and called the Fatal expressing disapprobation at the extravaSnow Storm. gance and improbability of some traits in this character, the author became impatient, he put his head out of the box and called, Know, gentlemen, this is the very picture of my mother-in-law. What do you say now?

tion."

THE ROYAL COBOURG, with its ceiling raised. A Russian piece called the Land Storm, a musical burletta, and a Harleidea of this pantomine seems excellent. quinade, "to be called Pope Joan." The

THE HAYMARKET was opened for one night only, for the benefit of the Brighton and Windsor Manager, Mr. Grove, who it seems played Hamlet, to his wife's Ophelia.

VARIETIES.

The Russian Government is fitting out two Expeditions for scientific researches in remote seas. Each will consist of two ships; one of them is designed to make discoveries towards the North Pole. The Commanders are not yet appointed, but such an eagerness to partake in them prevails in the Navy, that above 60 Officers of the Imperial fleet have applied to the nister of Marine to be employed.

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The French wits sport a lon mot on M. Segur's work "Les Femmes," just re-published in Paris, that will equally apply to Mr. Stannard Barrett's sweet poem "Woman," which we observe with pleasure has reached a third edition, in London. A gentleman being asked if he had read Wo"Yes, that subject and man, replied, Mi-politics are the only two I have ever studied, and it is strange to say I never could understand either."

Mr. Taylor, the platonist, observed lately in a convivial party, that the religion of the heathens was attended with this peculiarity: that the advocate for it, in consequence of denying the eternity of hell torments, and believing that future punishments are inflicted by divinity, as purifications of the offending soul, might with great benevolence say to a vicious person, You may be damned, and the sooner you are damned the better." For, on this hypothesis, the sooner such a one is punished, the sooner he will arrive at his proper perfection and felicity.

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Under these circumstances, the public places which opened on Easter Monday merit more particular attention, and we shall make it our business to ascertain which of them produces the most rational ANECDOTES (From an unpublished colamusements. At present we confine our-lection of Abbé Morellet.) The painter, selves to a mere list. Vernet, relates that somebody had once

a

Mr. MATHEWS AT HOME, at the English employed him to paint a landscape with cave and St. Jerome in it. He accordingly Opera House, Monday, Thursday, and Sa-painted the landscape, with St. Jerome in turday. A little curtailment seems to be the entrance. But when he delivered the the only matter wanted here. picture, the purchaser, who understood nothing of perspective, said, The landscape and the cave are well made, but St.

ROYAL CIRCUS AND SURREY. Of this Theatre, as well as the preceding, we have

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Some wits have propagated the following humorous repartee, which they attribute to an Englishman, whose wife died lately in Paris. He wished to have her interred in the burial ground of Pere Lachaise; but, alas! 250 francs was the price demanded for digging a grave six feet long. Grief is sparing of words :-the Englishman did not attempt to bargain; but drawing from his pocket two 20 franc pieces, he observed, with a sigh, Well, well, she must be buried standing! On hearing the above anecdote, the wicked Madame D

whose husband

is excessively economical, and furiously anti-British, observed, that from national spirit her husband would, in a similar case, have her buried sitting.

Formerly prefaces were written only for books and pamphlets; but, now-o'-days, it seems, fashion requires that they should be attached to musical compositions also. A Grand Sonata, composed by M. Callias, has lately been published, to which the following little dialogue is prefixed

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LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. A Vienna paper mentions that M. Von Hammer has lately translated from the Per-tended publications. sian into German, an ode written by the Schah of Persia, which was presented to M. Von Hammer, accompanied by a superb standard, when he was Ambassador to that country.

METEOROLOGICAL JOURNAL. BEAUTIFUL PHENOMENON IN THE HEAVENS, Wednesday, April 7.

Soon after 12 o'clock the upper part of a halo was formed of strong colours, edged with a remarkably vivid light (more so than ever I saw before.) In a short time, about 10 deg. from its vertex, both East and West, it sent forth a second halo appearance, forming an angle with the strong halo of about 15 deg. whose sides were perfect about 6 deg. in length. Soon after, three parhelia were formed on the extremities, two to the West, and one to the East, making a very beautiful appearance.

The lower part now became faintly coloured:It continued till about half' past one, having sometimes two parhelia to the

West, and one to the East, and then one East and one West. About two, the upper part totally disappeared, when only one fine parhelion to the East, and a faint colour below the Sun, was left

for a short time.

Thursday, 8-Thermometer from 40 to 54.

Barometer from 30, 02 to 30, 12. Wind NE. and NW. 4.—Cloudy; raining most of the afternoon.

Rain fallen, 025 of an inch. Friday, 9.-Thermometer from 37 to 57.

Barometer from 30, 14 to 30, 24. Wind N. and NW. .-Clear till noon, when it became cloudy, and continued so the rest of the day.

Rain fallen, 3 of an inch. Saturday, 10.-Thermometer from 33 to 64. Barometer from 30, 20 to 29, 94. Wind SW..-Clear. A white frost in the morning. Sunday, 11.-Thermometer from 39 to 55. Barometer from 29, 65 to 29, 52. Wind SW. 1.-Middle of the day clear; mornand evening cloudy.

Monday, 12.-Thermometer from 35 to 49.

Barometer from 29, 55 to 29, 46. Wind SE. and EbN. .-Cloudy; and raining most of the day. Much lightning in the North about 9 in the evening.

Tuesday, 13.-Thermometer from 42 to 53.

Barometer from 29, 41 to 29, 61. Wind NE. 1. and SW. 2.-Cloudy; much rain in the morning.

Rain fallen, 45 of an inch. Wednesday, 14.-Thermometer from 38 to 57. Barometer from 29, 71, to 29, 64 Wind SW. 2.-Generally cloudy. Rain fallen, 1 of an inch. Edmonton, Middlesex. JOHN ADAMS.

Water Colours, will open their XVth Annual Exhibition on Monday, April 19th, at the Great Room, Spring Gardens. Admittance is. Catalogue 6d.

COPLEY FIELDING, Secretary.

Sale of the London Museum.

The first Quarterly part of the Literary Gazette for the MR. BULLOCK respectfully announces to the

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Miscellaneous Advertisements, (Connected with Literature and the Arts.)

Distortions.

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Artists' General Benevolent Institution.

DR. WEATHERHEAD will commence his THE object of this Institution is, by an appeal

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to public liberality, to extend RELIEF to DISTRESSED ARTISTS, whose Works are known and esteemed by the Public, as well as to their WIDOWS and ORPHANS-Merit and Distress forming the only claim to its benevolence.

The Subscribers and Friends to the Institution will celebrate the FIFTH ANNIVERSARY FESTIVAL in Freemasons' Hall, on Monday, the 3d of May next, on which interesting occasion it is proposed to announce the Open. of the Funds.

H.R.H. the DUKE of SUSSEX, Joint Patron of the
Institution, in the Chair.
STEWARDS.

H. G. the Duke of Bedford
Most Nob. Marq. Anglesea
Most Noble Marq. Camden
MostNoble Marq.Lansdown
Rt. Hon. Earl Aberdeen
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A

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OLD TAPESTRY. A Tale of Real Life.

"That which before us lies in daily life."-Milton. "I will ensconce me behind the arras."-Shakspeare. Printed for W. and C. Tait, 78, Prince's-street, Edinburgh; and G. and W. B. Whittaker, 13, Ave-Marialane, London.

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REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.

SATURDAY, APRIL 24, 1819.

urge

Thy Fears-are wrecks that strew the fatal surge,
Whose whirlpools swallow, or whose currents
Adventurous barks on rocks, that lurk at rest,
GREENLAND, and other Poems. By James Where the blue halcyon builds her foam-light
Montgomery.
pp. 250.

London 1819. 8vo.

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Greenland, which occupies more than one half of the volume, is a serious and religious poem in five Cantos, and relating chiefly to the original settlement and progress of the Moravian Missions in that country. The appearances of nature on the voyage and in the Arctic regions of course furnish many fine occasions for poetic description; and the final loss of a people by the accumulation of the ice, is rendered more interesting by episodes skilfully interwoven, so as to tell this tale of misery.

There is much beauty and poetical feeling throughout the poem, from which we proceed, without further preface, to select a few extracts. The first canto opens finely

The moon is watching in the sky; the stars
Are swiftly wheeling on their golden cars;
Ocean, outstretcht with infinite expanse,
Serenely slumbers in a glorious trance;
The tide, o'er which no troubling spirits breathe,
Reflects a cloudless firmament beneath;
Where, poised as in the centre of a sphere,

A ship above and ship below appear;

A double image, pictured on the deep,
The vessel o'er its shadow seems to sleep;
Yet, like the host of heaven, that never rest,
With evanescent motion to the west,

The pageant glides through loneliness and night,
And leaves behind a rippling wake of light.

In this ship the Missionaries of 1733 are embarked, and their hopes and fears (the general hopes and fears of mankind) are exquisitely painted in the fol

lowing:

What are thine hopes, Humanity!-thy fears?
Poor voyager, upon this flood of years,
Whose tide, unturning, hurries to the sea
Of dark unsearchable eternity,

The fragile skiffs, in which thy children sail
A day, an hour, a moment, with the gale,
Then vanish; gone like eagles on the wind,
Or fish in waves, that yield and close behind?
Thine hopes,-lost anchors buried in the deep,
That rust, through storm and calm, in iron sleep;
Whose cabies, loose aloft and fix'd below,
Rot with the sea-weed, floating to and fro!
VOL. III.

nest;

Or strand them on illumined shoals, that gleam
Like drifted gold in summer's cloudless beam.
Thus would thy race, beneath their parent's eye,
Live without knowledge, without prospect die.
But when Religion bids her spirit breathe,
And opens bliss above and woe beneath;
When God reveals his march through Nature's
night,
His steps are beauty, and his presence light,
His voice is life:-the dead in conscience start;
They feel a new creation in the heart.

Ah! then, Humanity, thy hopes, thy fears,
How changed, how wond'rous!-

The following is a delightful reflec-
tion, though simple as nature herself:
Thus, while the Brethren far in exile roam,
Visions of Greenland shew their future home.
-Now a dark speck, but brightening as it flies,
A vagrant sea-fowl glads their eager eyes:
How lovely, from the narrow deck to see
The meanest link of nature's family,
Which makes us feel, in dreariest solitude,
Affinity with all that breathe renew'd;

heart!

PRICE 8d.

In vain the spirit wrestles to break free,
Foot-bound to fathomless captivity;
A power unseen, by sympathetic spell
For ever working,-to his flinty cell
Recalls him from the ramparts of the spheres ;
He yields, collapses, lessens, disappears;
Darkness receives him in her vague abyss,
Around whose verge light froth and bubbles hiss,
While the low murmurs of the refluent tide
Far into subterranean silence glide,
The eye still gazing down the dread profound,
When the bent ear hath wholly lost the sound.
-But is he slain and sepulchred?-Again
The deathless giant sallies from his den,
Scales with recruited strength the ethereal walls,
Struggles afresh for liberty,-and falls.
Yes, and for liberty the fight renew'd,
By day, by night, undaunted, unsubdued,
He shall maintain, till Iceland's solid base

Fail, and the mountains vanish from its face.

A prophetic view of the people, and a description of the Sabbath, are not less interesting.

-Through the dim vista of unfolding years,
A pageant of portentous woe appears.

Yon rosy groups, with golden locks, at play,
I see them-few, decrepid, silent, grey;
Their fathers all at rest beneath the sod,
Whose flowerless verdure marks the House of
God,

At once a thousand kind emotions start,
And the blood warns and mantles round the Home of the living and the dead ;—where meet
Kindred and strangers, in communion sweet,
When dawns the Sabbath on the block-built pile;
The kiss of peace, the welcome, and the smile
Go round; till comes the Priest, a father there,
And the bell knolls his family to prayer:
Angels might stoop from thrones in heaven, to bé

Greenland itself, and one of its wonders, are admirably painted.

Mountains with hearts of fire and crests of snow, Far off, amidst the placid sunshine, glow Whose blacken'd slopes with deep ravines entrench'd,

Their thunders silenced, and their lightnings quench'd,

Co-worshippers in such a family,

Whom from their nooks and dells, where'er they
roam,

The Sabbath gathers to their common home.
Oh! I would stand a keeper at this gate
Rather than reign with kings in guilty state
A day in such serene enjoyment spent
battle-Were worth an age of splendid discontent!

Still the slow heat of spent eruptions breathe, While embryo earthquakes swell their wombs

beneath.

Hark! from yon cauldron-cave, the

sound

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Up to the firmament on vapoury wings;
With breathless awe the mounting glory view;
White whirling clouds his steep ascent pursue.
But lo! a glimpse ;-refulgent to the gale,
He starts all naked through his riven veil;

A fountain-column, terrible and bright,
A living, breathing, moving form of light:
From central earth to heaven's meridian thrown,
The mighty apparition towers alone,
Rising, as though for ever he could rise,
Storm and resume his palace in the skies.
All foam, and turbulence, and wrath below;
Around him beams the reconciling bow;
Signal of peace, whose radiant girdle binds,
(Till nature's doom, the waters and the winds;)
While mist and spray, condensed to sudden dews,
The air illumine with celestial hues,
As if the bounteous sun were raining down
The richest gems of his imperial crown,

We have only room for one of the last episodes, to which we have alluded, as conveying the pathetic story of the final desolation of Greenland.

In the cold sunshine of yon narrow dell,
Affection lingers; there two lovers dwell,
Greenland's whole family; nor long forlorn,
There comes a visitant; a babe is born.
O'er his meek helplessness the parents smiled;
'Twas Hope;-for Hope is every mother's child:
Then seem'd they, in that world of solitude,
The Eve and Adam of a race renew'd.
Brief happiness! too perilous to last;
The moon hath wax'd and waned, and all is past.
Behold the end-one morn, athwart the wall,
They mark'd the shadow of a rein-deer fall,
Bounding in tameless freedom o'er the snow;
The father track'd him, and with fatal bow
Smote down the victim; but before his eyes,
A rabid she-bear pounced upon the prize;
A shaft into the spoiler's flank he sent,
She turn'd in wrath, and limb from limb had rent
The hunter; but his dagger's plunging steel,
With riven bosom, made the monster reel;
Unvanquish'd, both to closer combat flow;
Assailants cach, till each the other slow

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Mingling their blood from mutual wounds, they lay

Stretcht on the carcase of their antler'd prey.
Meanwhile his partner waits, her heart at rest,

No burthen but her infant on her breast:
With him she slumbers, or with him she plays,
And tells him all her dreams of future days,
Asks him a thousand questions, feigns replies,
And reads whate'er she wishes in his eyes.
-Red evening comes; no husband's shadow falls,
Where fell the rein-deer's, o'er the latticed walls:
'Tis night; no footstep sounds towards her door;
The day returns,-but he returns no more.
In frenzy forth she sallies; and with cries,
To which no voice except her own replies
In frightful echoes, starting all around,
Where human voice again shall never sound,
She seeks him, finds him not; some angel-guide
In mercy turns her from the corpse aside;
Perhaps his own freed spirit, lingering near,
Who waits to waft her to a happier sphere,
But leads her first, at evening, to their cot,
Where lies the little one, all day forgot;
Imparadised in sleep she finds him there,
Kisses his cheek, and breathes a mother's prayer.
Three days she languishes, nor can she shed
One tear, between the living and the dead;

When her lost spouse comes o'er the widow's thought,

The pangs of memory are to madness wrought; But when her suckling's eager lips are felt,

Her heart would fain-but oh! it cannot-melt;

At length it breaks, while on her lap he lies,
With baby wonder gazing in her eyes.
Poor orphan! mine is not a hand to trace
Thy little story, last of all thy race!
Not long thy sufferings; cold and colder grown,
The arms that clasp thee chill thy limbs to stone.
'Tis done :-from Greenland's coast, the latest
sigh

Bore infant innocence beyond the sky.

We shall return to this volume, of which it is needless to say, after these extracts, that it is eminently poetical and beautiful.

Letters from the Continent during the Months of October, November, and December1818: including a Visit to Aix-laChapelle, and the left Bank of the Rhine. By the Rev. James Wilmot Ormsby, AM. Rector of Castlecomer, &c. London 1819. 8vo. pp. 172.

wearisome as repetitions to the more practised in the records of Continental trips. A few temporary anecdotes and passing remarks will better serve to afford a tolerable idea of the publication, and to these we according apply ourselves. At Dunkirk, Mr. Ormsby says,

What pleased me most here was a small chapel close to the sea, erected within the last two years. It was built expressly for sailors to offer up their vows before a voyage, and for their friends, in bad weather, to implore the mercy of Him, whom the winds and the waves obey. The walls are covered with naval prints, descriptive of miraculous escapes, and I was assured, that it is filled by seamen every Sunday, very much frequented on the week days, and that they, for whom it was intended, are most thankful for the gift. Might not this example be imitated with the happiest consequences in every sea-port town in England the mere appropriation of a place of public worship to the one profession would, in my humble opinion, insure its

success.

In labouring along in the Diligence of Cambrai, the author asked the Conducteur to what purpose the immense fields of Beetroot, which he saw, were applied?

gentle push, and heard in a sepulchral voice, Lubin, mon cher Lubin. I started up, and, standing beside me, beheld-an old cookmaid, with a glimmering lamp in her hand, who reminded me of Leonarda in the cave with Gil Blas. On discovering her mistake, she screamed like a screech-owl and retreated. At breakfast I was attended by a lively young female, and I could not resist informing her of what had happened. She laughed immoderately, ran into the kitchen, repeated the adventure with many exaggerations, and, in succession, every servant came into the room and greeted me with the appellation of Lubin, mon cher Lubin. This was enough to banish me from the house; the old cook would have poisoned me had I remained, and I might have suffered from the resentment of the young waiter, as it is probable that he was laughed at even more than I was.

This is not so sentimental as a preceding traveller of the same cloth would have made it, but it is at least as decorous. The author admires the taste and cleanliness of a part of Liege, and tells us,

My admiration was soon interrupted by the cries of children running beside the carriage and asking for charity. One chubby little rogue, of about ten years old, outstepped his fellows, and for a quarter of an He said, that at present they were only hour endeavoured to recommend himself by food for cattle in the winter; but that Buo- exclaiming, Vivent les François, Vivent les naparte, who succeeded in every thing he Alglois, Vive Napoleon, Vivent les Cossaques. undertook, had made excellent sugar from You may imagine how I was amused by the them, which could not now be done. To dexterous versatility of this youthful menthis I replied, that he had failed in one dicant; he took chance for the politics and thing he could not beat the Duke of Wel-nation of the traveller, and, as they say at lington. With all the characteristic viva-fairs, had spectacles for all ages. The hucity of a Frenchman, he exclaimed, "Mais, mour of it was to me quite irresistible, and Monsieur, que voulez vous? Le Diable lui- I rewarded his ingenuity by the donation of meme ne pourroit faire cela." As he granted a franc, to his no small transport and astomy exception, it would have been cruel to nishment. question the omnipotence he asserted for Napoleon. Something similar occurred in the evening at Douai. The book for entering the names of travellers was brought to the he came to the column of professions, obsupper-table. A young Englishman, when served, he did not know what to write, being a private gentleman. A Colonel in the French service desired him, with some degree of pertness, to call himself John Bull -No, said the young man, we have lost that title, and he wrote-John Waterloo. To the credit of the officer he took it in good humour, and laughed heartily at the spirited and just reproof he had provoked.

This is a slight but intelligent volume: the author does not see much which has not been described before, but he tells the story of his travels in an amusing manner; and as they were performed at an interesting period, the whole is agreeable enough for the small portion of The next anecdote is not quite so cletime demanded from the reader. There rical as the first, but as the Reverend are sixteen letters, dated severally from Writer ventures it, we need not fear to Lille, Cambrai, Valenciennes, Brussels, select. At Valenciennes, he had consiAix-la-Chapelle, Cologne, Coblentz, May-derable difficulty in procuring accommoence, and Paris; so that it may readily dation at any of the Inns, but at length be perceived that but for temporary cir- got a very small apartment, of which he cumstances, the circle of this tour was too well known to admit of much no

velty. We shall not therefore be tempted to repeat any of the author's details, which, though they might be generally acceptable, could not fail to be as

says,

The inconvenience of this was, however, compensated by a ludicrous occurrence. I must premise, that I occupied the bed of a young waiter of the hotel. About four o'clock in the morning I was awakened by a

We do not remember to have met with

the following anecdote before:

The Church of St. Peter (at Cologne) is by Rubens, of the Crucifixon of the Apos principally remarkable for the altar-piece, tle. Having heard of this as a chef-d'œuvre, my expectations had been highly raised, and were at first sadly disappointed; my attention was suddenly diverted, the picture was turned in the frame, and all the perfection of the great artist's genius broke upon my view. The former exhibition was a copy upon the back by a modern painter,-but how unlike! though not without its merit; the effect of the performance they are proud and they practise the illusion, to increase of, and perhaps to recommend themselves more successively to the pocket of the astonished spectator."

Mayence, like most of the other stages, furnishes its story :

Soon after the French honoured this town with their fraternal embrace, they were invited to a public entertainment. The name of the former Prefect was Jambon; he and his family were universally beloved, and after supper one of the good citizens pro posed to drink the health of, Les Jambons

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