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The genius of Mr. Burke was full of splendor; it was the reflexion of lights from every quarter of the material and intellectual universe. His eyes shot through the depths of science,and ascertained the wanderings, or enlarged the limits of conjecture. His fancy, rich and bright, infinite in its variety, and intoxicating with its beauty, furnished copious and striking images, to illustrate and familiarize the operations of a reasoning power, otherwise too profound for common apprehension. His eloquence, convincing, persuasive, terrible when it assaulted, irresistible when it soothed, dignified in its rapidity, polished in its vehemence, diffuse, without being languid, concise, on occasion, without being obscure, never failed to agitate the fiercer, or to interest the milder passions. A spirit of divine morality breathed through him; and however our opinions may differ upon the actual effects of his words and writings, it is no great exercise of candour to suppose that his intentions were pure. His immense stores of knowledge, were, in general, drawn forth to promote, or to resist some practical object, and he forced upon us the necessity of appreciating all human intelligence, by the good or evil to which it is directed. The sensibility of his heart was exquisite, and ever alive; more rapid than the flights of his imagination ....infinitely too rapid, and at times, perhaps, too strong for his reason, it often turned against the latter, the strength it occasionally received from both. Always engaged in the contemplation of mighty objects, he knew, that although his objects were mighty, his instruments must be In order to make the constitution what he could approve, and the empire what he wished, he united with a parliamentary party, which appeared the most respectable and effectual means of accomplishing these ends; but in attempt ing to render party his instrument, he became himself, for a time, the instrument of party; and his dereliction of that system upon the new

men.

turn of affairs in Europe, (the act of his life which has been the most unpopular) ought to vindicate his principles, though the consequences of it may arraign his judgment.

In our imperfect nature, the supe→ riority of one man to another, is no more than a partial superiority. One towering faculty, in the composition of an individual, bears down and casts a shade upon the rest; in conduct it obstructs their use, as in comparison it extinguishes their lustre. Mr. Burke's miscarriages in the world of politics, though not propor tioned to the grandeur of his undertakings, have been more than proportioned to those incurred by ordi nary men, in the ordinary level of human character. His fertile mind nourished every subject on which ho thought, into a vast creation, multiform, rich in realities, in images, and in conjectures; much of it fluc tuating and fugitive, complex in its materials, boundless in its dimensions, and new to its author. More secure, but far less elevated, their lot, in whom their is little of inven tion to suggest, and nothing of ima gination to delude; whose ideas do not multiply into clogs upon their judgment, but leave it, through an empty region, a free and inglorious path! Where these, and such men as these, have to manage only their respective atoms, Mr. Burke, in his luxuriance, had to wield an universe ....and to say that he failed, is to say that he was not a God.

Some weeds of prejudice sprung up with his opinions; a mist of superstition hung over him, which obscur ed important truths, and raised a multitude of illusory forms; his fancy associated other subjects with these; and his zeal committed them, so infected, to the world. The rest of mankind saw truth and falsehood in colours less strong than Mr. Burke, though perhaps more minutely accurate. All those whose cold and shallow mediocrity was incapable either of sympathizing with his sensibilities, or of fathoming his deductions, made his greatness a reproach to him, and ridiculed his intellect for

being superior to their own. Some philosophers, also, of that malignant school which affects the absence of feeling to disguise its perversion, joined in a league of abusive controversy; and madness and despotism were common themes of invective, against one of the wisest and the best of men.

Upon the whole we must impute to Mr. Burke some of the evils we have suffered,but posterity may reap unmixed advantage from his works. He combined the greatest talents of the greatest men, and his judgment was overmatched, not by the abilities of others, but by his own. He roused, by a wound, the sleeping tyger of Democracy, and provoked, and almost justified, his devastations. Had he lived in the most despicable age, his genius would have exalted it; had he lived in the most tranquil age, his conduct might have disturbed it. He has left a space that will not soon be filled. He described a grand, but irregular course; his meridian was more tolerable than his descending ray; but the heat with which he scorched us will soon be no longer felt, while the light which he diffused will shine apon us forever.

PICTURESQUE VIEW OF LONDON.

Smoke, so great an enemy to all prospects is the everlasting companion of this great city; yet it is the smoke of London, emblematic of its magnificence.

At times, when the wind changing from the west to the cast, rolls the vast volumes of sulphur towards each other, columns ascend to a great height, in some parts bearing a blue tinge, in others a flame colour, and in a third, accumulated, and dense, they darken portions of the city, till the back rooms require candles. A resident in London cannot form an idea of the grand and gloomy scene ....it must be viewed from the envi

rons.

In the spring, before fires are discontinued during a calm day, Vesuvius itself can scarcely exceed this display of smoke. It is pleasing to observe the black streams which issue from the different manufactories; sometimes darting upwards, while every trifling current gives graceful undulation; at others rolling in low movements, blending with the common air; when the dreary season of November arrives, and the atmosphere is dark and damp, a change in the wind produces an effect dismal and depressing. The smoke sometimes mixes with the clouds, and then they assume an electric appearance. When the sun breaks through this veil during the summer, its beams have a wonderful effect on the trees and grass; the green is brightened inconceivably beautiful.

London is not without attraction on a dark evening; chiefly so in winter, when a strong wind prevails.

It is then that the innumerable lights in the shops and streets send their rays towards heaven; but meeting with the smoke, depressed by a wet air, they are reflected and multiplied, making an arch of splendor, against which the houses and steeples appear in strong outlines. I have found the reflection so powerful as to dazzle my sight, and make the path dark and dangerous. A general illumination occasions great Brilliancy.

Let us now view our subject from the surrounding country; and this should be done on a summer morning, before the industrious inhabitants begin their labours. The most perfect and delightful prospect is from Hamstead-Heath, when the wind blows strong from the east. Then it is that the clear bright field of ground, broken into a thousand grotesque shapes, gives lustre to the projecting front of Highgate, topped with verdure, and serving as a first distance, from which in gradual undulations the fields retire, till lost in a blue horizon. Hence, spread be fore you, are numberless objects to please the most difficult. The su

burbs, as advanced guards, meets the eye in all directions, contracting their fawn-coloured sides with the neighbouring trees. Beyond them reposes in full majesty the main body, with its mighty queen, whose lofty cupola overlooks her phalanx of children, crowned with spires of various sizes and beauty, protected on the south by a chain of hills.

Much of the external splendor of London, I conceive must have been lost on the suppression of religious houses. Numerous towers and spires were destroyed, and those of the most venerable character. Several attempts to preserve St. John's, Clerkenwell, and St. Augustine's, were without success.

Fe,* the capital of New-Mexico, from which he will turn eastwardly to the Red river; and after explor ing the silver mines in its neighbourhood, descend by it into the Missisippi, at seventy leagues above N. Orleans.

The party is expected to return in July, 1804, after having made the most correct observations on the climate, soil, trees, plants, waters, minerals, mountains and volcanos; men, beasts, fowls, and fishes:

The longitude and latitude is to be taken in certain points, and "the spaces between protracted on a map, in time instead of space," in the manner of Ellicott; see his journal P. 137.

ANTICIPATION

OF MAJOR LEWIS'S JOURNAL, Mr. JEFFERSON having given an official account of the territory of Louisiana, has thought proper to send his first secretary to know how far that information might be relied upon.

It is said the route of the party will be as follows. It will ascend the Missisippi from the mouth of the Ohio, to the falls of St. Anthony, to gain some knowledge of the northern fur-trade. From thence it will direct its course south-westwardly, antil it strikes the Missouri, which, after taking a peep at the big Indians, and viewing some part of the Salt Mountain it will ascend to its

source.

From this point the party will proceed south-eastwardly, along the heights that divide the waters of the Missisippi and the Pacific ocean, noting particularly those that fall into the latter, until it reaches the heads of the river Arkansas. It is proposed that some part of the escort shall fall into these waters and float down to the Missisippi, which they will enter two hundred and fifty leagues above N. Orleans. The major will proceed on to Santa

ANECDOTE OF GENERAL LEE.

General LEE was remarkably slovenly in his dress and manners; and has often by the meanness of his appearance, been subject to ridicule and insult. He was once attending general Washington to a place distant from the camp....Riding on, he arrived at the house where they were to dine, sometime before the rest of the company. He went directly to the kitchen demanding something to eat; when the cook, taking him for a servant, told him she would give him some victuals in a moment....but he must help her off with the pot. This he complied with and sat down to some cold meat which she placed before him on the dresser. The girl was remarkably inquisitive about the guests who were coming, particularly of Lee, who she said she heard was one of the oddest and ugliest men in the world. In a few moments she desired the general again to assist her in placing on the pot, and scarcely had he finished, when she requested him to

*This city is in long. W. from Philadelphia 29° N. lat. 36° and stands on a river which runs into the gulf of Mexico.

take the bucket and go to the well. Lee made no objections, and began drawing the water. In the meantime general Washington arrived, and an aid-de-camp was dispatched in search of Lee; whom to his surprise he found engaged as above.... But what was the confusion of the poor girl on hearing the aid-de-camp address the man with whom she had been so familiar, with the title of Excellency!

The mug fell from her hands, and dropping on her knees, she began crying for pardon; when Lee, who was ever ready to see the impropriety of his own conduct, but never willing to change it, gave her a crown, and turning to the aid-decamp, observed...." you see, young man, the advantage of a fine coat.... the man of consequence is indebted to it for respect; neither virtue nor abilities, without it, will make him look like a gentleman."

ACCOUNT OF A FIRE BALL.

C. Biot, member of the national institute, in a letter to the French minister of the interior, dated July 20, 1803, gives a detailed account of his inquiries, &c. respecting a fire ball which fell in the neighbourhood of Laigle. From this the following description of the phenomenon is deduced.

On Tuesday, April 26, 1802, about one in the afternoon, the weather being serene, there was observed from Goen, Paint-Audemer, and the environs of Alençon, Falaise, and Verneuil, a fiery globe of a very brilliant splendor, which moved in the atmosphere with great rapidity.

Some moments after there was heard at Laigle, and in the environs of that city to the extent of more than thirty leagues in every direction a violent explosion, which lasted five or six minutes.

At first there were three or four reports like those of a cannon, fol

lowed by a kind of discharge which resembled a firing of musketry; after which there was heard a dreadful rumbling like the beating of a drum. The air was calm and the sky serene, except a few clouds, such as are frequently observed.

The noise proceeded from a small cloud which had a rectangular form, the largest side being in a direction from east to west. It appeared motionless all the time the phenomenon lasted. But the vapour of which it was composed was projected momentarily from the different sides by the effect of the successive explosions. This cloud was about half a league to the north-north-east of the town of Laigle: It was at a great elevation in the atmosphere, for the inhabitants of two hamlets a league distant from each other saw it at the same time above their heads. In the whole canton over which this cloud hovered a hissing noise like that of a stone discharged from a sling was heard and a multitude of mineral masses exactly similar to these distinguished by the name of meteoric stones were seen to fall at the same time.

The district in which the stones fell forms an elliptical extent of about two leagues and an half in length and nearly one in breadth, the greatest dimensions being in a direction from south-east to north-west, forming a declination of about twentytwo degrees. This direction which the meteor must have followed is exactly that of the magnetic meridian; which is a remarkable result.

The largest of these stones fell at the south-east extremity of the large axis of the ellipse; the middle sized ones fell in the centre, and the smallest at the other extremity. It thereby appears that the largest fell first, as might naturally be supposed.

The largest of all those which fell weigh seventeen and an half pounds. The smallest I saw weigh about two gros, which is the thousandth part of the former. The number that fell is certainly above two or three thousand.

In this account I have confined myself to a simple relation of facts; I have endeavoured to view them as any other person would have done, and I have employed every care to present them with exactness. I leave to the sagacity of philosophers the numerous conse quences that may be deduced from them; and I shall consider myself happy if they find that I have succeeded in placing beyond a doubt the most astonishing phenomenon ever observed by man.

METEORIC STONE.

At Ensisheim, in Germany, there is a mass of stone, of the weight of upwards of two hundred pounds, called the Thunder Stone, and is generally supposed to have fallen from the atmosphere. It is of an oval form, and a rugged aspect..... In the year 1800, a piece of this mass was analyzed by Professor Barthold, who observed that its texture was so loose, that it could easily be separated by a knife, and reduced to a greyish blue powder. It was intermixed with insulated and irregular crystals of pyrites, which in some parts appeared like small veins..... From the analysis, this stone appeared to contain, of sulpher, 0.02; iron 0.2; magnesia, 0.14; alumine, 0.27; lime, 0.202; and of silex, 0.42.

HISTORY OF PHILIP DELLWYN.

(Concluded from page 310.)

THE autumn was advancing fast ....already the late leaves lingered on the trees, as if reluctant to lose their faint hold of life; already occa sional storms of sleet and rain deformed the fair face of nature, and debarred the lady Matilda from her frequent wanderings, and lord Ernolf talked of removing to London. Our conversations now ran on the new world I was about to be intro

duced to; and Matilda promised to herhelf a pleasing amusement in my astonishment at the vastness and ceaseless business of the metropo lis.

"But fear not," said she, 66 my Henry will be your Cicerone, he will be your friend, and you, I am sure you will love my Henry!"

"And who," exclaimed I, "is Henry?"

"Good heavens," returned Matilda, "do you not know that I mean my cousin, tord Villars, who is soon to be my husband?"

How I looked, I know not, but Matilda sufficiently comprehended all that passed in my heart. After a few minutes pause, she left me to solitude and reflection. What a night did I pass! but I was capable of forming my resolution. I appeared the next day thoughtful and pensive, but firm. I neither sought nor avoided Matilda: I had determined to suffer in silence, and she, who wished, as I flatter myself, to preserve for a friend, the man who had been so presumptuous as to think of loving her, assisted my endeavours by the continued mildness of her manners towards me. She affected not to have penetrated my secret, but retained, as much as possible, her former sweet and easy confidence.

The short time that remained previous to our exchanging rural shades for dusty streets, was insufficient to bring me into a temper of mind fit to see and be introduced to lord Villars; and I suffered more than language can describe, when an elegant young man, of a most prepossessing countenance, in the most graceful manner, thanked me for the service I had rendered his uncle, and bespoke my friendship in exchange for his own, adding, that his Matilda's account of me had disposed his heart to love me.

Oh had I but known of her engagement! that certainly would have secured my young and innocent heart from feeling the fatal passion that will now quit it but with life! Nor will it be long that I shall con

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