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The sullen owl, and man's profane abuse,
Now mock the sacredness of former use
In those grey aisles, where once the song of morn
Swam 'mid the air, from piety upborne ;
Where linger'd oft the solemn hymn of even,
In echoed music, ere it rose to heaven;
Where kings and vassals, rank's distinction gone,
In common impotence have knelt before one throne.

O'er the awed soul there steals an anxious dread,
Conscious it moves where worshipp'd once the dead ;
And, from the majesty of all around,
It feels that here there must be holy ground;
While each carved chaplet, crumbling into dust,
Each paneless window, and each ruin'd bust,
To man are emblems of his nature's doom,
And with emphatic silence indicate the tomb.

Though hush'd each leaf and living thing around,
Breathes there not here a melancholy sound ?
'Tis a suppress’d, yet all-pervading sigh,
As if these columns, as they point on high,
In the sad moonlight's solitary gloom,
Bemoan'd the desolation they entomb.
Or is it not the hum of ever-busy Time,
In this his palace, his unchallenged clime ?

My own adored one! thou and I

On earth again can never meet ;
And yet, methinks, 'twere sweet to die,

With faith unchanging, at thy feet,
And, breathing out my soul in prayer,

Arise to heaven to meet thee there! W. W. The three following pieces require no particular introduction. They are by different hands, but are all poetical and pretty :

TO HER I LOVE.
I will resolve you into a thousand similies.

As You Like It. Lady! the love with which I worship thee,

Is high as Lomond's double-mounted peak; Pure as the waves which crest the Ægean sea;

Deep as the waters of the silent creek;
Swift as the eager lover's stolen hours;

Smooth as a river flowing to the sea ;
Mild as the sunbeam after April showers,

The fond, fond love with which I worship thee!
Lady! the love with which I worship thee,

Is fervent as the Eastern sun's high heat; Jealous as foreign craft upon the sca;

And constant as the vig'lant warder's beat ;Chaste as the moon up in the silent heaven;

Bright as the star that twinkles o'er the lea; Soft as the dews by summer breezes driven, The fond, fond love with which I worship thee!

STANZAS TO EI knew 'twould be thus !-'

midst my long love for thee, My heart, in its gladness, felt only despair; Like the poor bird that looks on some bright sunny tree,

And sighs from its cage-" I can never dwell there!"

Ay, thou remorseless monarch of decay !
Here baffled mankind questions not thy sway ;
Yet, wherefore strive to shorten thine own span?
Dost thou not know thy being hangs on man ?
For, lo! that awful hour steals on apace,
When man—the last survivor of his race-
Shall, with thy venom'd blood, thy white hair lave,
And drag thee down with him to an eternal grave!

W. H.

The author of the following stanzas says, in his accompanying letter," Sometimes I think, in your own words, that I have never done what I can do,' and I

Thou art false—thou art changed—and thy purity now

Is o'ercast with a night-bringing cloud, fair deceiver !

IN THREE PARTS.

STANZAS TO JULIA.

But the gloom in thy breast, and the shade on thy brow,

THE APOLOGY. Will deepen and linger in sadness for ever! Fare thee well! fare thee well! and though lovely thou art, By Thomas Aird, Author ofReligious Characteristics," There's a time close at hand—there's an hour hurrying

&c. on,

Speak of me as I am: nothing extenuate, When none but dark thoughts will arise in thy heart,

Nor set down aught in malicc, -Othello. And in vain shalt thou wish for the days that are gone.

Part III.

ABOUT an hour after Dr Bremner had finished his Away! and smile on, in the halls of the gay,

narrative, we were standing together looking from a winAnd there feign a gladness thou never canst feel ;

dow, to observe the complexion of the night, and to calSmile on, and be happy-foolish maiden, away!

culate what kind of a sky might be expected on the morDost thou fancy these pleasures thy pangs will conceal?

row to shine on my departure. A high struggling wind Though the best and the bravest should worship before great black clouds were hearsing the moon through the

was abroad, such as might turn the boldest eagle back, thee, And fresh vows of fondest affection be spoken,

sky; but anon she came forth flashing her light through Even then_even then, the sad thought will come o'er tops of woods, and up the far hills. Looking down the

white gleaming churchyards, and away over the restless thee,

old avenue which led up to the house, I caught, during of him thou didst love him whose heart thou has

one of these glimpses through the trees, a view of somebroken.

thing black and indistinct coming moving onwards. I

pointed it out to Dr Bremner, and we watched its apAll things, Julia, here below,

proach till it began to shape itself, distinctly showing a Pilfer from each other ;

village hearse, drawn by a single ass, on which rode a Every wayward bard, you know,

little old man, and attended by two females. Surprised Robs his laurell’d brother.

and horrified, we gazed irresistibly on this strange pheLilies sip the morning dew,

nomenon as it came slowly forward, and was stayed beZephyr steals the rose's sigh,

neath our window; but still more were we struck when Pilfers from the rainbow's hue

the driver alighted, and, with the assistance of the two The little gilded butterfly !

women, proceeded to remove something from the inside

of the vehicle, which we instantly saw was a human Echo bids the glades rejoice,

being in life, but apparently faint and sick. We waited Stealing every pilgrim tone;

till the unhappy figure was carried forward to the door, Lovers list their fair one's voice,

and then ran down stairs to see what this uncommon viTill they make each note their own;

sitation might mean. The person thus brought, who Poets steal their magic lore

was a woman, was so faint that she could not speak; but From Grecian Delphi's holy shrine;

the man who conducted the hearse told us that she was a Painters rob from nature's store ;

stranger, who had fallen very sick at a village about three But what are all their thefts to thine ?

miles distant ; that she cried so much to see Dr Hastings,

or Bremner, saying she could not die in peace till she bad Sure, the rosebud's beauteous hue,

seen him, and made a clean confession to him, that the To deck thy fair cheek, you did sip

good folk of the village were fain to yoke the very hearse, And from her breath of fragrance, too,

and with an ass too, because every cart and horse of the You stole the odours of your lip;

village were away for lime for the new house of a genThy light heart from the skylark's wing,

tleman lately arrived from the West Indies. After the From wave-reflected stars thy eyes,

unhappy woman had revived a little, from some cordials And from each lovely laughing thing,

which were administered to her, she asked for Dr BremA thousand nameless witcheries.

ner, and beckoned him to draw near.

“ Well, my good woman, here I am," said my friend, Enter Peter, with Coffee.

stooping to listen to her communications.

“ Send quickly,” said she, in a low, but earnest tone, Thou hast come just in the nick of time, good Peter. “for an old woman of the name of Mrs Bonnington: You The evening is calm and beautiful ; we shall sit here by must be brought together : She lives in a cottage three the window, sipping cup after cup of thy beverage, for- miles hence, at the foot of Eildon hills.” getting that we are the Editor of the Literary Journal,

“ Why, I can inform you," answered Bremner, " that and dreaming of those who are far away, or trying to she is in this very house at present.” wreathe out of the past a garland for the future. Let “ You know it all, then !" cried the woman, with a us have some music. Sing us, sweet sister, “ The Bride sort of shriek, and almost starting up. maid," from Bayly's “ Songs of the Miustrels.” We are on me, Arthur Bonnington! It was I, indeed, that stole in a mood to sympathize with the feelings of that gentle you away when a child; but you have found your true girl, whose heart grew desolate when she saw the com- mother, Mrs Bonnington !" panion of her childhood leave her father's house for ever. The face of my friend at this grew ghastly white; he Or open R. A. Smith's “ Select Melodies," and pick out turned round in silence to me with a look of fearful dcthat Persian air we love so well—“ The Dancing Girl's precation ; then pointing with his forefinger to the woSong,” hallowed as it is in its pleasant mournfulness by man, who lay covering her face with her hands, he said some of the most delightful associations of our by-gone to me, after a long pause, “ Did you hear that, Calvert?" life. With music, coffee, sunset, and memory, we envy “ Hold, good woman!” said I, willing to believe the no one ;-we are ourselves alone.

whole an error, “there must be some mistake here. You

are in Dr Bremner's house; and this is Dr Bremner.” [Peter bows respectfully, and retires ; the sound of sweet music is heard ; and the last golden light of fierce malignant woman, and I had this answer returned

Through her first show of fear and repentance broke a evening falls upon the Editor as he silently sips me:

_“So, sir, you are a wise one, and would challenge his coffee.

my pretensions to speak in this fine house of theirs; but, perhaps, with all your wisdom, sir, you know not, as I know, that there is a large mole on his left shoulder there,

“ Have mercy

say."

which be the pledge that I have had it in my power to of recognition on his shoulder, whilst he sat perfertiş vex them all; and that it was I myself who gave him passive ; and when it was found, she laid her head down that very name of Bremner, which you seem to rate so on his shoulder for a moment, then looked narrowly highly." Here Bremner took me forcibly by the coat, upon his face, and then passionately kissed his cheek maay and pulled me with him into another apartment, where, a time, crying out, “ There's no blood here—it's all a lie! by the light of the moon, he proceeded to bare his shoul- till, her strength being exhausted, she fainted away. At der. “ Look,” said he, with a ghastly smile, as he showed this her unhappy son was roused from his apathy, and, me indeed a large mole upon it; “what do you think of lifting her up in his arms with desperate energy, he carthat now?"

ried ber to her own chamber, where she soon recovered I know not,” I exclaimed, “ either what to think or from her swoon. But the fit was succeeded by a sort of

nervous delirium, which, as it continued, accompanied “ So,” said he, after a horrid pause, during which he with fever, threatened ere long to reduce her to the grase. glared upon me for my answer." So, my name is Bon- With attention unremitting, with intense anxiety, did nington, after all. Say_why can't you say it is a her son now watch her, feeling her pulse from time to most glorious name?-certainly a good deal longer than time, and looking incessantly at his watch. Hastings or Bremner! And, for my new crest, o ! be I hope,” he said, turning to me, “this will not las yond all question, I am entitled to wear the bloody dag- long, both for her own gentle sake, and because I wish ger in a dexter. Who can deny me that,-or, at least, a

her to be calm and clear, that she may answer me some knife, if the dagger be not appropriate? I have done ex- questions relative to that child, Emily Bonnington. Vis cellent good service in my day, with the knife, it seems own sister! my preserver! by day and night! But these -My own sister ! my own brother, too!” Here he fell same heavens above our heads are very wondrous in their into some low muttering calculations, from which at ordinations, so to bring us together! Hark ye, Calvert; length recovering, he pushed me violently out of the so soon as that most excellent old woman is a little better, apartment, saying, “ Calvert, you must leave me for a I shall leave her to your care, till I go to London and wbile to my penance."

meet Wardrop. I have some excellent brief words to say Immediately I went to the servants who were tending to him about that sister of mine. He is there, I know : the unhappy author of all this mischief, and strictly en- and, by the eternal Heavens of Justice! I sball new joined them to keep the circumstances of the evening grapple with him. Be he in prosperity, I shall burst inta secret from Mrs Bonnington, whose very weak state of his rooms! Be he in the wild chattering madhouse-fer, health made it dangerous for her to hear them. Return- set it down in your tablets, there is not a man, howeve ing to the door of the apartment in which I had left Dr high and haughty, but may be traced into mean situations Bremner, (now Bonnington,) I listened; but all was and followed unto humble thoughts--through every isquiet within, save that I heard his loud and measured terval in his malady, through the joints and chinks of breathing, as of a victim dressed and laid out bound, the black and blasted harness that invests his soul from numbering the hours till the appointed sacrifice; when, moral responsibility, shall I yet find a way to sting his being unwilling to break in upon him, I retired to an- spirit! 0! I shall sift the tumultuous revelations of other room, and threw myself down upon a bed. About the madman for every grain of truth relative to that daybreak I was startled by a shrill outcry fron Mrs Bon- Emily! I trust I shall find him at least a mighty and nington's room, which made me haste to see what was eloquent villain! Would to Heaven he were beautiful the matter; and on entering her room, there I beheld and persuasive as a demigod, so might I believe our Emily that woman, the evil genius of this family, who, in her was not a light and a giddy maiden, to be destroyed by a malignant wish to triumph over a former rival, (I write common deluder!” from after knowledge,) had crawled from her own sick I tried to remonstrate with him against this proposed pallet, to fasten upon Mrs Bonnington's ear, and instil journey to London, arguing that it could only heap fresh into her heart, the poisonous tale of her fratricidal son. calamities on his head.

“ Come to me quickly, Mr Calvert,” cried the unhappy “ And pray, sir, what am I ?" was his answer ; * * mother. “Oh! they have broken my heart; for they have what is my life, that I should nurture myself delicately ? bid me go and see the man that murdered Harry Bon- Now, speak not to me, sir, unless you can bring her benington, and claim him for my son. But I will go-Ifore me in life, that I may bid her weep no more, but will go: and I must bid him be at peace ; for, oh! he think of her dishonour any more. My beautiful prescia cannot be well. But I'll not believe it: my heart cannot. ver! And I to be --Well, well, would we could wash Away, fast, Mr Calvert, and bid him come to me in these hands !" peace, and we shall say nothing about that matter. Where “ It is at least better,” I returned, wishing to propose is he? where is he? He is not so kind as my Ilarry, a mitigation of the case, “that she has died before kner. else he would come fast to me; but he cannot be well. ing the full extent of the evil." O take away that vile woman, and bring Arthur to me “ But you cannot tell me,” he said," why young Harry before I die!"

Bonnington is lying in his blood, killed by his own brother! In my indignation, I turned to drive the hag, like a Surely, surely there is no good reason for that? There wild beast, out of the room ; but, conscious of her ma came the bold boy, like a young dragon, to fight against his lignity, she had quitted her post, at which, as I entered, sister's destroyer! I was there, too, to guard our Emily I saw her holding back the curtain, leaning over the pil- from dishonour ; and yet I slew her best friend! Now. low, and, more hideous than a nightmare, brooding over before the just Heavens, show me the moral of tha: Mrs Bonnington's repose; she was now retreating out of God knows, I would give a round entire world for the the apartment. I then hasted into the next room to life and love of that bright-haired boy! Oh! had be seek Dr Arthur Bonnington, and found him, dimly seen but known who I was, and for what I was there - Well, in the blear dawn, sitting on a chair, his shoulder still well, they must sleep on!" uncovered, his look and attitude the very same as when, Mrs Bonnington recovered so much, that she was able some hours before, I left him there. I advanced, and to tell her son many things regarding his sister Emus, told him that his mother already knew he was her son, and his ill-starred brother ; and this she did voluntarily, and that she wished to see him instantly. He sat for to the great satisfaction of Dr Bonnington, who, though several minutes gazing on me intensely, yet without seem- anxious to gain such information, was yet unwilling to ing to apprehend the purport of my communication, when afllict his sick mother, by questions on so sorrowful a salhis mother, hastily attired, entered, and, exclaiming with ject. Gradually again she grew worse ; and now the a shriek, “ I know it all, my son !" threw herself upon hour of her dissolution began to draw nigh. Her sen his neck. Wildly she then began to look for the mark sate by her bedside, watching the faint smile that light

him ;

too,

ined over her pallid features, as she lay intensely gazing' tion of vengeance? Ha! and have I not obtained it? upon him. He laid his fingers softly upon her brow, Answer me there !" and put aside a lock of her hair ; whilst half up was raised Without attempting to palliate the guilty rashness of her head, as if to meet and acknowledge this sacred touch my friend, Dr Arthur Bonnington, or the malignant venof filial love.

geance of her who stole him away in boyhood, it must “ My own mother ! my true mother !" said he, in a yet be acknowledged, that the first cause of all this ill lay low mournful tone, " are you going to leave me so soon ?" | in the cruel folly of his father, who spoilt this woman's With a convulsive shudder she turned her eyes from young heart, and prepared it for its vindictive purpose,

but in a moment again her face was towards him, which, besides the intermediate sufferings it entailed on and, starting up, she threw herself upon his neck, crying his innocent family, succeeded ultimately in cutting off his nut, “ Come near to me, my first-born one ! - And let lineal name from the earth. Thus it is, that the great Trithem all go-my long-lost boy! And tell your mother bunal of Justice above “ of our pleasant vices makes whips how it has fared with you in the hard world! Here am to scourge us.” Thus it is, that a man's sins are visited I to you—Oh!" Her voice failed, her eyelid twinkled, upon the "third and fourth generations” of his descendants. and in another minute her heart, with all its love, was I may here remark, that Dr Bonnington caused this turned to clay.

wretched woman to be attended in his own house with In the interval, betwixt Mrs Bonnington's death and the utmost care, not sparing to procure for her the best funeral, I set myself to question the woman who was the medical skill which the neighbouring town could give ;original cause of all this evil, and who was now so well that ere long she completely recovered ;—and that he disthat she could stand examination, without the charge of missed her with a very considerable sum of money, eninhumanity being brought against me. It is impossible joining her strictly, however, to quit that part of the to say distinctly in what mood of mind she was, in re-country, and never presume again to appear in his sight. ference to her evil doings against this family, unless wo On the third day after Mrs Bonnington's funeral, I can suppose a strong spirit of malignant triumph, com- prepared to leave Mountcoin. patible with a mixture of penitent remorse, for the means “ So," said Dr Bonnington, “ you are going from me used to gratify such a spirit. The burden of her con I am like a man left alone in a theatre when the fession was as follows:- In her early life, she was court- bustle is over, the music and the company gone, and the ed and seduced, under promise of marriage, by Dr Bon- lights burning low. Calvert, I am now literally left nington's father, who cast her off, and married another. alone; and darkness, I suppose, in this sorrowful house of This set her upon thoughts of vengeance, and, as the most mine, must be the burier of the dead! My mother has told effectual way of embittering the life of her who had su me, too, that Wardrop himself is off this mortal stage, so perseded her in his affections, she stole away her first-born I have missed some little work which might have kept son. In her deep purpose of revenge, she had concerted me for a while from the fearful thoughts that must now her measures coolly, and had taken provisions to a remote hunt me. I am very glad, however, that the poor dear cave in a wood, whither she fled with the child, and child Emily believed herself in reality his wife, even there abode for many weeks, without once leaving it, till though the marriage was a sham trick on his part. Madthe heat of search and pursuit was over. She then made ness itself I think shall not deprive me of that satisfacher way to Glasgow, where, some months afterwards, as tion. Yet oh! my beautiful and sorely-hurt sister ! my she was begging with the child by the river side, he was Emily Bonnington ! my young-hearted preserver! She seen and coveted by Mrs Hastings, who had no children has left me for ever! and my mother has left her firstof her own. To this lady she willingly disposed of young born! and that boy Ilarry Bonnington, the most inBonnington, under the name of Edward Bremner, de- nocent, and most sadly wronged of us all! O that I claring, of course, at the same time, that he was her own bad known him as my brother but for one year! And

The conditions of this surrender were, that he God be my judge, would I not fold my arms and lie should take the name of Hastings, that she should be down in the dust of death for him, if again he might be allowed to visit him at Mountcoin once every year, but let up in his shining youth to the sweet sunlight of this that she was never to claim relationship with him, or men. world! Day and night, day and night, shall I cry upon tion his real name. After giving up the child, she had him, but he will never come to me at all! Calvert, Calvert, lived in Glasgow, without once leaving it, till lately, you have approached too near me; no one prospers or when, believing her health irrecoverably gone, she began lives that has been with me but a day; I am accursed of to feel the terrors of conscience, and set out to seek Mrs God; you have touched the plague, and cannot live !" Bonnington, that she might restore her to her long-lost About five months after his mother's death, I visited Dr child, if mother and son were yet alive. She was the Bonnington again at Mountcuin. “I shall be with you more confirmed in her purpose, when, on making enqui- anon, Calvert," was his first salutation to me as I entered ries in the neighbourhood of the place where Mrs Bon- the room where he was sitting. “ One moment nownington formerly lived, she learned how her fortunes had suppose you are my brother Harry_well, where's the waned after the death of her husband, and by what an knife ?-Give me leave and grace now, and don't interunhappy fate she had lost her children.

rupt me for a little while, John Calvert. I shall soon Such was the purport of the explanations given me by see it all.-Or suppose I had not met Emily that night this wretched woman, who, while she professed peni. on the street." —And on he thus went, arranging and tence, could not altogether forbear expressions of triumph confusing, and again arranging circumstances, by which over her rival in early love; and whose last haste to bring he might have been prevented from slaying his brother ; mother and son together was, if chiefly to make repara- that fearful and never-ending process, which by day and tion to Mrs Bonnington, yet not without a wish at the in the night-watches keeps a man feverish and irritable, same time, as I was led to calculate from the circumstance till whirling madness o'ermaster his dried brain, which of her midnight visit to Mrs Bonnington's bedside, mor to the outcast spirits must be the very worst mode of hell. tally to stab that mother's peace, by showing her son to I shall proceed no farther with my unhappy record, be a fratricide. I could not refrain from giving vent to but merely state that Dr Bonnington died within a year my indignation against her." But look at me now," from the time when I first met him. she said, interrupting me ;

a homeless wretch-every And now why have I entered upon this defence ? Why way degraded ; and what was I once? In hope, in sta- have I opened the sacred cabinet of private friendship, tion of life, in beauty, in innocence, equal to my rival. I and given the story of his life to the public? Assuredly had parents, and brothers, and sisters, who loved me; I have not done it to make up a tale for but they cast me off, when I was betrayed to shame and

“ Knitters in the sun, ruin! Do you wonder, then, that I sought the satisfac- And the free maids that weave the thread with bones."

son.

But I have heard it foully hinted that my late friend, as best, though both the anecdotes of Monsieur Vindrine,a jealous rival, slew his own brother, &c. &c. And all the adventures of Dispepys,--Mr Sadjolly and fa surely I have done right in thus publicly stating the main mily,—and the Kingston negro ball in the West Indies circumstances of his life, that his memory may never will doubtless be the most attractive sketches; and of the henceforth be cast out to the shameless dogs of Calumny songs, the Zoological Gardens, the Corkcutter's Festirat and Disrespect. Yea, so thoroughly convinced am I and the Irish Berrin, will, par excellence, become the that he was a man of a lofty and tender heart, and so most popular. The third part is, selon la regle, a mono profoundly do I love his memory, that, were it the only polylogue, called “ The Lone House,” which is six mile way of leaving not one individual in this world doubtful from a butcher's, six and a half from a baker's, seven fron of his character, nothing less would satisfy me than to a public house, seven and a half from a doctor's, eigh send forth this Apology on leaves as numerous and as from the post office, and nine from church! In thi freely scattered as the leaves of Autumn that bedim the piece my talented friend performs seven different charac winds of the wilderness.

ters, with a fidelity and excellence which those who knov

him may conceive, but which those who do not, neve Now I solemnly swear, that I have set forth the

can ; amongst which are the once celebrated highway particulars of Dr Arthur Bonnington's life, partly

men, Jeremiah Abbershaw and Jack Shephard ; the lat as I witnessed them myself, and partly as he com

ter of whom is a most amusing vagabond. The whol municated them to me, to the best of my recollec- entertainment, which lasts about three hours and a bals tion. So help me God!

is from the pen of R. B. Peake, who has written se Joux CALVERT.

veral of the preceding ; and until the English Opera sea son commences in the same Theatre, early in July next

I unhesitatingly predict for it crowded audiences, and th METROPOLITAN THEATRICALS. most tumultuous applause.

London, Monday, 26th April, 1830. MIRABILE diclu ! both our Patent Theatres are now LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC SOCIETIES OF flourishing ; Covent Garden positively, and Drury Lane

EDINBURGH. comparatively; since it is no less singular, perhaps, than

SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES. true, that the latter concern has done much better since the abdication, or dethronement, whichever be the more

Monday, April 26. correct phrase, of Mister Manager Price. At the rival

Dr Carson in the Chair. house, Rophino Lacy's adaptation of Rossini's “ Ceneren Present,-Rev. Dr Blair; Drs Hibbert and Monerieft tola” has been a complete hit; and from the prima donna, John Anderson, John Sim, D. Laing, T. G. Repe Lady William Lennox, downwards, does all parties con Alexander Macdonald, D. Gregory, Esquires, &c. &c. cerned very great credit. The scenery and decorations

After the announcement of a donation, by Mr Moubra! are, in every respect, well worthy of the music; and the W.S. F.S. A. Scot., of a copy of the Genealogical Memoii singing and acting no whit behind either. To meet and of the Royal Family of France, Dr Blair proceeded to rea neutralize this attractive novelty, Drury Lane has an

“ a Letter intended for the Earl of Elgin and Kincardin Anglicised version of Rossini's®“ Guillaume Tell," by President of the Society, with an account of the abuse an next, under the title of Hofer, the Tell of the Tyrol;" bled at Meaux, A.D. 825, in the reign of Charles the Bold Planché and Bishop, which is announced for Saturday ruin of the Scottish. Hospitals in France, given by ti for which a deserved and lasting popularity is most con with many particulars regarding these and other ancier tidently predicted. Miss Stephens's return here has proved hospitals founded by Charlemagne and his successors."-N her as great a favourite, though not so good a singer, as remarks were made by any of the gentleinen present up ever she was ; and the only other circumstance worthy this very learned paper, probably because the subject w notice at this Theatre, has been the very unseemly squab

new to the members. It is certainly not a little remarkab bling of Madame Vestris and Mr Jonathan Rose Ander

to tind, as appears from the laborious researches of the r

verend author, that at a time when it is usually suppos son, the new vocalist, who, on Tuesday last, seemed in

our ancestors were a nation of barbarians, the holy mit clined to make the audience their bottleholders, by acting of Scotland should have endowed Hospitals in France, fi over their brouillerie close to the footlights. Who is right, the comfort and support of the weary pilgrims of their u or who is wrong, is a question of such entire indifference, tion. as not to interest any body; but as the affair is to undergo legal investigation, it must be all public enough very speedily. So far as oratory was concerned, madame had

ORIGINAL POETRY. by far the best of it, as she has also had in the letter-writing department since; but Mr Wallack, as stage-manager, certainly showed neither taste nor judgment, in suf

TO ONE LOVE. fering them to appear together at all, under existing cir. cumstances, when such a disgraceful result might have

By llenry G. Bell. been so easily foreseen.

Flowers make me think of thee ;I turn, however, to a far more pleasant subject, by Thou hast a deep and gentle love for flowers, noticing that one of the most attractive dramatic exhibi. Those golden children of the summer sun; tions of the season will commence this evening, in Ma Their beauty and their innocence appeal thews's eleventh single-handed display of his inimitable With a soft magic to thy happy heart, imitations; and though the Adelphi curtain will rise And in their dewy fragrance there doth dwell only as the mail leaves London with this packet, yet, A spirit like thine own, unseen and pare, having been present at his dressed rehearsal to a few pri. For ever yielding to the perfumed air vate friends on Saturday evening last, I am thus enabled A richness like the breathings of fond love, to anticipate every other criticism, by a slight sketch of When, as a flower, the proud high soul of man his new performance. It is, as usual, in three parts, most Is faint beneath the fulness of its joy ;appropriately entitled, “ Mathews's Comic Annual for

Flowers make me think of thee! 1830, with humorous cuts, and other embellishments ;” and, taken as a whole, is fully equal, if not superior, to all its

Streams make me think of thee;predecessors. Where all is good, it is extremely difficult Whether they glide midst mossy banks away to make any selection which can be fairly termed the In sweet low murmurings to the distant main,

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