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Schumacher, M. Mossotti, and several oth er astronomers, are engaged in calculations which will enable us, in a future Number, to record the chief elements of this comet's motion.

TO BOIL POTATOES MEALY, AND NOT

CRACKED,

it has been recommended to assort them to a nearly uniform size, for each boiling; put them into an uncovered pot, which they must not fill, and pour over them cold water, so as only to cover them. When this first water is nearly ready to boil, pour it off, and replace it with a similar quantity of cold water salted rather profusely: which replacing of the water has the double effect of removing the extracted juices of the raw potatoes, and to cool their outsides, whilst their inner parts retain the heat acquired, so that the boiling they are then to undergo (until the prongs of a fork proves them to be done in the middle,) is uniform throughout, and the potatoes are not cracked, as in a close covered pot they are apt to be, by the great heat applied to their outsides, whilst yet their centers are in part raw.

NORWAY.

M. Boye, a naturalist who chiefly studies ornithology, has published a narrative of a tour in Norway, as far as Lofoden. At Seyerstad he could not induce a woman to accept any kind of payment for the dinner which he had just eaten. She led him to a window, and pointing to the surrounding country, said, "So long as the earth shall give us corn, and the sea fish, no traveller shall ever be able to say that we have taken money of him." In the Isle of Tinta, where he landed wet through, in the middle of the night, the servants of M. Brodkorb, the proprietor of the island, conducted him, without inquiring his name, into a well furnished and well heated room, where he passed the night. The next morning he and his fellow travellers were invited to breakfast with the family. A few years ago, the proprietor of the isle of Porwig caused the rudder of a boat, which had brought some travellers to the island, to be secretly taken away, in order to compel them to remain at his house till a new one could be made. The community of interests between the inhabitants, their retired situation, and the small number of travellers who visit them, afford an explanation of their manners, though without depriving them of their patriarchal and Homeric character.

SCIATICA.

Dr. Martinet, of Paris, has published a treatise on the use of Oil of Turpentine in Sciatica, and similar disorders of the limbs. It contains a number of experiments, exhibiting the advantageous effects of that essential oil. The result is, that of thirty-six persons affected with Sciatica and similar disorders, whether acute or chronic, twenty-six were completely cured by the appli. cation of oil of turpentine, seven received

great relief, and in only three cases was it inoperative. The average length of time during which it was found necessary to persevere in the application of this remedy was only six days; and it seems to deserve the attention of other medical practitioners.

INTELLIGENCE.

There is preparing for publication, the Extracts from a Journal written on the Coasts of Chili, Peru, and Mexico, in the years 1820, 1821, and 1822; containing some Account of the recent Revolutions, together with Observations on the State of Society in those Countries, by Captain Basil Hall, R. N.

Mr. Cochrane, whose extraordinary pedestrian exploits in Asia and in the Northern regions of the Russian Empire have excited so much wonder, is printing his Travels. He penetrated in one direction to the utmost boundaries of Russia towards America, where he was stopped by authority; and we understand that his adventures bear altogether a character of novelty and pecaliar interest.

A public meeting was lately held at Liv erpool, to consider the propriety of receiving and adopting, as a public institution, the Mechanics' and Apprentices' Library, which has been successfully commenced in that town by private exertions, and it was resolved to establish such a library. The meeting was numerously attended by gentlemen of the highest respectability, and the body of the hall was crowded by mechanics and apprentices.

Mr. Bernard Barton has in the press a new work, entitled Poetic Vigils.

In press, Poems, &c. by Thos. Wilkinson. Idwal, a Poem in three Cantos, with Notes, will shortly be published.

The Jews of the British West India Col

onies, synthetically arranged, by George Robinson, Esq will appear in a few days.

The Life of Joanna of Sicily, Queen of Naples, is nearly ready for publication.

NEW WORKS.

Howell's Characters of Theophrastus, royal 8vo. 21s.: imperial 8vo. 1. 11s. 6d.

Wood's Essay on the Genius of Homer, 8vo. 7s. 6d. Godwin's History of the Commonwealth, Vol. I. containing the Civil War, Svo. 14s.-Sayings and Doings, 3 vols. 8vo. 17. 10s.- Pastore Incantato, and other Poems, post 8vo. 7s. 6d.—Australia, and other Poems, by J. K. Hervey, 12mo. 68.-Things in General, being Deli neations of Persons, Places, &c. Vol. I. 12mo. 7s. 6d.-Chatfield on the Darker Ages, 8vo. 7s. 6d.-Country Belles, or Gossips Outwitted, 3 vols. 12mo. 18s.-Perci val's Poems, 8vo. 16s.-Memoirs of a Deist, 8vo. 63.-Cambridge Classical Examination, 8vo. 48.-De la Beche's Geological Memoirs, 8vo. 188.-Guide to Mounts Bay and Lands End, 8vo. 10s.-Plain Instructions to Executors and Administrators, 8vo. 5s.-The Modern Traveller, (Part 1, Palestine,) 18mo. 2s. 6d.

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LEAVES bave their time to fall,

(La Belle Mag.)

THE HOUR OF DEATH.
By Mrs. Hemans.

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set ;—but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own-oh, Death.

Day is for mortal care,

Eve, for glad meetings round the joyous hearth; Night, for the dreams of sleep,—the voice of prayer,

But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth.

The banquet hath its hour,

Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine; Then comes a day for grief's o'erwhelming power, A time for sefter tears;-but all are thine!

Youth, and the opening rose,

May look like things too glorious for decay;

And smile at thee: but thou art none of those That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set;—but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own-oh, Death!

We know when moons shall wane,
When summer birds from far, shall cross the sea;
When autumn's hue shall touch the golden grain,
But who shall teach us when to look for thee?

Is it when spring's first gale,
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie?
Is it when roses in our path grow pale?
They have one season-all are ours to die!

Thou art where billows foam,

Thou art where music melts upon the air;
Thou art around us in our peaceful home,
And the world calls us forth,—and thou art there !

Thou art where friend meets friend,
Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest 3

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies; and swords beat down the princely crest!

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath,
And stars to set;—but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own-oh, Death!

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Unstain'd by many a crime, Which to maturer years might owe their birth;

In summer's earliest bloom, in morning's prime, How blest are they who quit this chequer'd scene of earth!

And shall no tear be paid,

To her the new-made Bride, the envied fair;

On whose fond heart, Death's withering hand is laid,

Checking each pulse of bliss Hymen had waken'd there?

Joy scatter'd roses, while

The happy slumberer sank to calm repose,

In Death's embrace ;-e'er love withdrew his smile, And 'scap'd those chilling blights the heart too often knows.

Yes! all we know must die.

Since none can tell th' exact appointed hour,
Why need it cost the virtuous heart a sigh,
Whether death crush the oak, or nip the opening
flower?

SPECIMENS OF THE DUTCH POETS.* (Lon. Mag.)

A DUTCH ambassador entertaining the king of Siam with an account of Holland, after which his majesty was very inquisitive, amongst other things told him, that water in his country would sometimes get so hard, that men walked upon it; and that it would bear an elephant with the utmost ease. To which the king replied,-Hitherto I have believed the strange things you have told me, because I looked upon you as a sober fair man, but now I am sure you lie. We have little doubt but that if six months ago Baron Fagel had told (not the king of Siam, God save his majesty!) but the king of England, that in his country there was such a thing as poetry,--poetry which would bear criticism, we have little doubt but that the king of England would have returned, in the most delicate and soothing terms which the "finest gentleman in Europe" could think of, the identical answer which his Siamese cousin gave in plain English. Not that we impute any want of information upon subjects of general literature, to our Sovereign; on the contrary, we believe him to be a man of very elegant acquirements, and of a refined and cultivated understanding :-but to an English ear, Dutch poetry sounds like a contradiction in terms. For ourselves, to our shame we confess it, we should as soon have expected moonlight to burst forth from green cheese, as eloquence from the mouth of Mynheer; and we dare say most of our readers would have thought, with us, that the two miracles were about on a par of impossibility. In the little volume before us, we have, however, a complete refutation of this our ancient opinion,

the offspring of ignorance and prejudice; there is some poetry here which would not discredit any nation, some which would do honour to the most poetical nations that ever flourishedGreece and England. We should like to know whether our readers do not freshly recognize the Grecian model in the following chorus from the Palamedes of Vondel:

The thinly-sprinkled stars surrender
To early dawn their dying splendour;
The shades of night are dim and far,
And now before the morning-star
The heavenly legions disappear :
No longer in the darkness burns,
The constellation'st charioteer
But backward his bright courser turns.
Now golden Titan, from the sea,
With azure steeds comes gloriously,
And soaring Ida's leafy crowns.
And shines o'er woods and dells and downs,
O sweetly-welcome break of morn!
Thou dost with happiness adorn
The heart of him who cheerily -
Surveys whatever nature gives,
Contentedly-unwearily-
What beauty in her presence lives,
And wanders oft the banks along
Of
Of some sweet stream with murmuring song.
Oh! more than regal is his lot,
Remote from crowded cares and fears,
Who, in some blest secluded spot,
His loved-his cherish'd dwelling rears!
For empty praises never pining,
His wishes to his cot confining,
And list'ning to each cheerful bird
Whose animating song is heard:
When morning dews, which zephyr's sigh
Has wafted, on the roses lie,
Whose leaves beneath the pearl-drops bend;
When thousand rich perfumes ascend,
And thousand hues adorn the bowers,
And form a rainbow of sweet flowers,
Or bridal robe for Iris made
From every bud in sun or shade.
Or snare the birds with crafty net;
Contented there to plant or set,

By J. Bowring, &c. London, 1824.
Ursa Major.

To grasp his bending rod, and wander Beside the banks where waves meander, And thence their fluttering tenants take; Or, rising ere the sun's awake, Prepare his steed, and scour the grounds And chase the hare with swift-paced hounds; Or ride beneath the noon-tide rays Through peaceful glens and silent ways, Which wind like Cretan labyrinth : Or where the purple hyacinth Is glowing on its bed; or where The meads red-speckled daisies bear. Whilst maidens milk the grazing cow, And peasants toil behind the plough, Or reap the crops beneath their feet, Or sow luxuriant flax or wheat. Here flourishes the waving corn, Encircled by the wounding thorn : There glides a bark by meadows green, And there the village smoke is seen : And there a castle meets the view, Half-fading in the distance blue. How hard, how wretched is his doom Whom sorrows follow to the tomb, And whom, from morn till quiet eve, Distresses pain, and troubles grieve, And cares oppress ;-for these await The slave who in a restless state Would bid the form of concord flee, And call his object-liberty. He finds his actions all pursued By envy or ingratitude :The robe is honouring I confess, The cushion has its stateliness :— But oh! they are a burthen too! And pains spring up, for ever new, Beneath the roof which errors stain, And where the strife is—who shall reign.

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When a person is cured of one misapprehension the first thing he naturally does, is to fall into another :-In conformity with this general practice, upon our prejudice against the possibility of Dutch poetry existing, having been put to flight by the publication of the Batavian Anthology, our next step was to indulge a prepossession, that although it might be Dutch poetry, it was not real poetry. It had sufficiently the air of a prodigy that a native of the modern Boeotia should put together such a combination of images and words as might convey to his dull ear and capacity, what he called poetic sensations, or should feel within himself any appetite for pleasures other than the indigenous ones of smoking, sailing, canalling, and money-making; but when in direct contradiction of opinions, formed, as we thought, on a philosophical estimate of the Batavian disposition, a volume of Dutch poetry was announced as forth-coming,-we consoled our wounded infallibility with the

hope, that beyond the immediate purlieus of the Zuyder-Zee, these images and words aforesaid, would excite sensations, equally intense perhaps, but more akin to laughter than sympathy. We had figured to ouselves the Dutch Venus, a lady about half a ton avoirdupois, with a face like the full moon and a boddice-full of heavenly alabaster, enveloped in a dozen petticoats, and leading in her hand the national Cupid, as fat and immoveable as a flying cherub on a monument ;—when lo! the Medicean herself in all her bending beauty and graceful diminutiveness of person, salutes us with a well-known smile, and the immortal Urchin who floats round her shoulders, is as volatile, as classically proportioned, and as mischievously alive as ever. Are not these the very deities with whom we have been so long and so intimately acquainted?

Cupid once in peevish pet

Cried to Venus-" They are wet-
He has drench'd my strings in tears:
All my quiver have shot-
Wasted all-they pierce him not,
And his heart of stone appears."

"Listen, silly boy!" she said:
"Steal a lock from Doris' head;
When the arrows miss-refrain !
Waste not, trifling rogue, thy strength-
Wait and watch! Be sure at length
Cupid shall his victory gain."

So he runs where Doris dresses,
But he dared not steal her tresses;-
For a straggling hair or two
Softly he implores the fair;

Bends his bow-"The shaft is here-
He has pierc'd me through and through."

Many of the poems are turned with admirable felicity of expression and the most perfect ease of manner; nay, there are some in which it is pretty evident that the whole merit belongs to the translator, inasmuch as the original thoughts are of little value :

Maiden! sweet maiden! when thou art near,
Though the stars on the face of the sky appear,
It is light around as the day can be.
But maiden! sweet maiden! when thou'rt away,
Though the sun be emitting his loveliest ray
All is darkness, and gloom, and night to me.
Then of what avail is the sun or the shade,
Since my day and my night by thee are made?

Upon the whole, if the Translators, as they profess, wished merely to give the British public some proof that poetry was not incompatible with the Dutch manners, mind, and language, they have more than accomplished their purpose; their book is not only an interesting document of this kind, but a pleasing collection of elegant little poems.

66

(Blackwood's Mag.)

LETTER FROM A "FIRST-FLOOR LODGER."

There are two lodged together.-Shakspeare.
Nec hospes ab hospite tutus.-Ovid.

ΑΝ N Englishman's house is his castle"-I grant it; but, for his lodging, a comparison remains to be found. An Englishman's house may be his castle; but that can only be where he consents to keep the whole of it. Of all earthly alliances and part nerships into which mortal man is capable of being trepanned, that which induces two interests to place themselves within four walls, is decidedly the most unholy. It so happens that, throughout my life, I have had occasion only for half a house, and, from motives of economy, have been unwilling to pay rent for a whole one; but -there can be, on earth, I find, no resting-place for him who is so unhappy as to want only "half a house!" In the course of the last eight years, I have occupied one hundred and fortythree different lodgings, running the gauntlet twice through all London and Westminster, and, oftener than I can remember, the "out-parishes" through! As two "removes" are as bad as a fire, it follows that I have gone 71 times and a half through the horrors of conflagration! And, in every place where I have lived, it has been my fate to be domiciled with a monster! But my voice shall be heard, as a voice upon the house-top, crying out until I find relief. I have been ten days already in the abode that I now write from, so I can't, in reason, look to stay more than three or four more. I hear people talk of "the grave" as a lodging (at worst) that a man is "sure of;" but, if there be one resurrection-man alive when I die, as sure as quarterday, I shall be taken up again.

The first trial I endured when I eame to London, was making the tour of all the boarding-houses-being deluded, I believe, seriatim, by every prescriptive form of "advertisements."

First, I was tried by the pretence modest-this appeared in The Times all the year round. "Desirable circle" "Airy situation"-" Limited number of guests"-"Every attention"--and no children."

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Next, was the commanding-at the "head and front" of The Morning Post. "Vicinity of the fashionable squares !"-"Two persons, to increase society"-Family of condition" and "Terms, at Mr. Sam's, the bookseller's."

Then came the irresistible. "Widow of an officer of rank"-" Unprotected early in life"-" Desirous to extend family circle"-" Flatter herself," &c. Moonshine altogether!

"Desirable circle"-A bank clerk, and five daughters who wanted husbands. Brandy and water after supper, and booby from Devonshire snapt up before my eyes. Little boy too in the family, that belonged to a sister who "had died." I hate scandal; but I never could find out where that sister had been buried.

"Fashionable square”—The fire, to the frying-pan! The worst item—(on consideration)-in all my experience. Dishes without meat, and beds without blankets. "Terms," "two hundred guineas a-year," and surcharges for night-candle. And, as for dinner! as I am a Yorkshireman, I never knew what it meant while I was in Manchester Square!

I have had two step-mothers, Mr. Editor, and I was six months at Mrs. Tickletoby's preparatory school, and I never saw a woman since I was born cut meat like Lady Catharine Skinflint! There was a transparency about her slice which (after a good luncheon) one could pause to look at. She would cover you a whole plate with fillet of veal and ham, and not increase the weight of it half an ounce.

And then the Misses Skinflints-for knowledge of anatomy-their cutting up a fowl!-In the puniest half-starved chicken that ever broke the heart of a brood hen to look at, they would find you side-bone, pinion, drum-stick, liver, gizzard, rump,and merry-thought! and, even beyond this critical acquaintance with all admitted-and apocryphal-divisions and distinctions, I have caught the eldest of them actually inventing new joints, that, even in speculation, never before existed!

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