mired by every one who has thought and feeling, but rected which had passed through successive editions without detection. The English has very properly been freed from those violations of the grammar and idiom of the language, which ought not to be allowed to deform the pages of an elementary work at the present day. Two Vocabularies are appended, one English and Latin, adapted to the English exercises under each rule, and intended to facilitate and direct the labours of the scholar in his first attempts at Latin composition: the other, of proper names, which is drawn up with the usual accuracy and elegance of the editor 3 but which might, perhaps, have been somewhat curtailed, without diminishing its usefulness. Upon the whole, we can safely recommend the present as the most useful edition yet published of this long established school-book. We may add, that it is printed in a very convenient form, and with great accuracy and neatness. WIDE-SPREAD and luxuriant pasture fields, with cattle fattening upon them, and gentle, plump horses wandering about, or peeping through the apple-tree hedge-rows, the vineyards of Normandy; a sky glowing with the sun's rays, which seemed to relent as they slept upon the verdant grass; a small-bill, across which stretched a road yellow with dust; a troop, of young Normans singing merrily and out of tune as they marched along,—this is, near as we can depict it, the scene which we request our reader to represent to himself. In the work before us, the author's have already made us acquainted with two hundred specles, nearly the whole of which have been figured for the first tuleb In look ing over the plates, nothing strikes is so much as the variety in the form of these beautiful and delicate plants; hardly any two resemble each other, and yet there is such a family likeness, that every one at all acquainted with the subject, must see that all are fernis. An equally reas markable feature is the wonderful difference in regard to size. At Plate 17, we have a creeping species_the' Tyl chomanes apodum from Barbadoes not rising more than half an inch above the ground; while, in the forthcoming part, we understand that three plates will be devoted to the illustration of a tree-fern from Jamaica, twenty-five feet in height. Almost every part of the world has contributed its treasures. Many very interesting species, from the continent and Islands of India, have been transmitted by Dr Wallich and the East India Company, whose liberality in the distribution of their collections cannot be too highly praised; then we have also many species from the West India Islands," the South Sea Islands, and the continent of New Holland. A solitary individual from the shores of Igloolik, has been presented by Captain Sir Edward Parry, and another is a reminiscence of the arduous 'expeditions of Captain Franklin. Some most remarkable species are from the Andes, grow ing at an elevation of 15,000 feet!" A few represent the United States, Southern Africa, and the solitary Tristan d'Acunha. Two more fasciculi will terininate the work; but we are glad to hear that it is likely to be succeeded by another upon a somewhat similar plan,' and that a complete Historia Filicum is also contemplated by the same gentlemen. L And yet it was no holyday-some men, hoeing in a field by the roadside, stood erect from their labour to eye the merry band as it passed by. Their Sunday clothes their hats decked with variegated ribbons perhaps it was a marriage? There was no bride among them. A drum supplied the place of the violin: and in the middle of each bunch of ribbons was a small piece of paper with a number inscribed upon it. The leader of the troop carried an immense cane, the only lingering remnant in our days of the pedantic soldatesca of the close of the seventeenth century...In short, they were conscripts— all of them either drunk, or taking advantage of every village inn they met to help them onward to that state of blessedness. Intoxication," they said, " is a bad thing for savages, who do not need it, because they are free; but when the villager quits his hut and his mistress, to be subjected to a corporal, wine becomes useful, he cannot drink too much of it." Two young peasants lagged a little behind the rest. One was short and slender-pale-and in tears; the other tall and stout-his hair yellow his cheeks round and red as the fruit of his native province-his eyes large, lively, and blue; but a slight shadow of sadness was for the moment cast over this jolly figure. He leaned towards his comrade, whom he held by the hand, endeavouring to console him. "Do not weep, Thibaut: what good does it do? What have you to regret? You are an orphan and do we not march together? I do not dislike war nor do you either. You are young enough, it is true, but you have a heart suppose now you saw me in need of assistance! You are thinking of that girl at Girard? See you, she does not deserve you. There's that? I had one of my own. Come, come! I myself now, if I had but wished- But what of God save the Emperor King I mean-for it seems the other is really dead. But we will take care to live, I warrant you." The troop had by this time halted at a little cabaret, and every one was calling loudly for Norbert. "The lazy rascals," said he, "can't laugh without my help." They drunk blithely, in the open air in the dusk of the evening: the cider sparkled, that you would have sworn it was champaign. There were shouts, and broken glasses, toasts, glees, and chorusses-plenty of those popular songs which are the psalms of honest men who do not understand Latin. Norbert was a maker of extempore songs-less rich in rhymes, it must be owned, than in rustic humour. Every sally of his muse called forth full-throated laughter. Norbert was not one of those, who watch jealously the effect produced by his good things, but with the tail of his eye he saw Thibaut was laughing, and he felt happy.tb any one insulted you, Thibaut ?" he went on, stooping his head, and folding the boy in his left arm. I know not what presentiment crossed him. "Yes," stammered Thibaut," the Parisian Norbert turned pale as death. The sight of this man had been enough to make him hate him; the sound of his name “He has struck you? Thousand have you struck the hound dead? It is my fault," he continued, stamping it is my fault. I promised to meet you there— I broke my appointment; but do not be angry with me, Thibaut." He pressed his friend's hands; tears started into his eyes. I will avenge you.-Come."—" I must fight him, Norbert; you must be my second, and I will do my best."—" You fight him!” cried Norbert, shrugging his shoulders; " you have not strength. I know if you saw me in, a scrape, but to-day it is my turn. When we were children, Thibaut, I was your champion. I am so still, and I have a sword by my side now. You helds and dogs. would not give me pain? Come." The two young Normans had been drafted into a regis. ment of dragoons stationed in Alsatia Norbert was just the man for this service, which is a medium between the cuirassiers and the light cavalry. People once spoke slightingly of the/dragoons ; but they made themselves talked of in 1814. Nor is it yet forgotten: how these old troops, hardened in the Spanish campaigns, flew to defend their country, and made the northern hordes leave some additional carcases to fatten our Norbert petitioned earnestly not to Thibaut. "If you do not allow us from Thibaut followed him in a state of mind which can said he to his recruiting officer, to remain together," not be described. Norbert had always a great ascendency beg your pardon, my captain, but I give you my word of honour, that I will desert." The officer was young, he understood his man, and Thibaut became a dragoon. 'ne in al mot at One Sunday evening, about two months after he had joined the regiment, he was seated beside a table in a public garden, a common resort of the soldiers. His belmet was placed on the table beside a pot of beer and two enormous glasses. He waited impatiently for Norbert. A dragoon, known by the soubriquet of the Paris sian, entered the garden-a dangerous man, fierce, of unquestionable courage, and famous for some twenty duels, all fatal to his antagonists. The Parisian marched forward, followed by two soldiers and a girl. All the tables were occupied. He advanced towards that at which Thibaut was placed, and sweeping it with his sheathed sabre, dashing beer, glasses, and helmet to the ground, cried,“ Make room for older soldiers, conscript! Do you understand me?"Thibaut, astonished at this unexpected assault, looked at him in silence.com "Begone!" said the Parisian, giving him a rude push. Thibaut hesitated, and the word “brutal” But the other had drunk to exdess); the blood rushed to his brow; and two blows resounded on the face of the young soldier. All the company turned to look at the affray. Thibaut was no coward, but his inexperience, his want of strength, the terrible reputation of the Parisian, and the looks of mockery which surrounded him on all sides, fairly overwhelmed him. The girl had thrown herself between him and his adversary. He snatched up his helmet, and rushed from the garden, but not without casting an angry glance at the Parisian, not without a thought of vengeance, although shame and chagrin were uppermost in❘ his mind. His first thought was of Norbert; he sought him on chance, and as by instinct. At last he found him walking quietly on the rampart, with his arm round the waist of a strapping, handsome peasant, who laughed in chorus with him, and, bending towards the handsome soldier, pressed her lips to his epaulet. Heaven knows how they could make themselves mutually intelligible with their Alsatian and Normanojargons. Two months of service had made an accomplished cavalier of Norbert and when the cheek-pieces of the helmet enclosed his animated countenance, the brass visor reflected the glance of his bold eye, and his smile parted his young mustache, it is no wonder that he pleased the eye of a fair Alsatian. They were laughing; and but for an occasional kiss, their laughter was unintermitting. As Thibaut approached, Norbert looked up. "What is the matter?" he cried, quitting the young peasant abruptly. Thibaut, weeping, threw himself into his arms; and this embrace moved Norbert more than all the caresses of his mistress. "Has over him. The young girl followed them with her eyes, no longer recognising in Norbert's altered mien her gay and gallant cavalier. He pushed swiftly on; his air, was, that of a young soldier; not a trace of the regimental bravo was there. His blue eyes darkened; his voice sounded harshly, through his grinding teeth; his hand played with the hilt of his sword; the blade rattled in the sheath. intram Make no He entered the garden. The Parisian sat with his back to him, but he recognised him at once. He sprung before him, and, overturning the table with every thing on it, struck the soldier, three heavy blows on the face. The hand of the Parisian flew mechanically to his sword, but an iron grasp was fixed upon both his arms. "Listen!" said Norbert. "I am, come to kill you. noise, rascal. I am a soldier of yesterday, and know nothing of your guards and passes. But I fear you not, fencing-master. Nor you either," he continued, fixing his eye upon those who had been attracted to the spot by the tumult. “The Parisian is a coward; he has insulted a child without cause; and you are cowards, who allowed him to do it, Back, poltroons!" and with his left hand he flung away his scabbard, 1 “Come, stripling," said the Parisian, choking with rage, your mustache shall not, grow much longer.Follow me,”-“ I go foremost," said Norbert, pushing him back; 66 you follow whither. I choose to lead. Choose a second-one only. I wish to kill you tête-à-tête, old rascal. My secoud is Thibaut. His arm is not so stout as his heart; but he is dear to me, and shall be treated with respect."-" Tamer spirits than the Parisian might have been stirred up by such taunts," said a dragoon to his neighbour. That conscript is a bird of his own feather." " "Be quiet, Thibaut, be quiet," reiterated Norbert, as they went along. "You are a child; it is my business. Perhaps I ought to have chosen an older second, but it will flesh you. Never fear; I will do for him. Only look how I shall tickle, him. Holy Virgin! should he kill me, do not send word home immediately. And if you meet the girl again—console her as you best may. We are brothers, you know—our money is in my portmanteau. Get your discharge, if you can, and return to Normandy. It is a good country," he added, with a tremulous voice, and stopped. "I give you all that I have left there." "So! It is here that you wish me to let you blood," said the Parisian, as he overtook them. Norbert answered with a gesture expressive of contempt. The daylight was about to disappear, and its last ray gleamed upon the helmet of the young dragoon as he raised it from his head. The evening gale bore its black crest against his cheek; but even this did not show any paleness. After he had stripped to the waist, even the cold searching glance of his adversary could not detect the beating of his heart. His glance was more firm, more bright than ever. He was about to place himself on guard, and was giving a preliminary flourish, when his eye was arrested by the distracted air of his friend. He paused; Thibaut threw himself upon his neck. “Will you soon have done mouthing each other?" cried the Parisian." On guard! coward !" Norbert drew the buckle of his waistband more tight, felt the point of his sabre, removed with his foot some pebbles which lay scattered about the ground he had taken. All this he did with the utmost self-possession, within two paces of the Parisian ; then suddenly springing backwards, he fell into his position, looking steadily at his antagonist. A tremendous oath, and a sabre blow, parted at the same moment from the mouth and hand of the duellist. He was disappointed. Men of true courage have not unfrequently a cool self-possession and instinct, that serve them instead of experience. Norbert knew that he was lost, if he attempted to encounter his enemy according to the rules of art. Taking his sabre in both hands, he used it like a quarter-staff, a weapon he could use right well. The circling flashing of the blade, dazzled his antagonist. It was as a wheel of fire between the combatants, each point of which was a guard for the Norman, and a blow to the Parisian. ཟ』ཋཱནན། {! ! But the Parisian was an intrepid enetny, cool and vigorous. He soon recovered himself, and found in the treasures of his long experience resources against this new mode of attack. Still the advantage was on the side of Norbert. The duellist foamed with rage; he looked pale, as if his antagonist's sabre had already drunk all his blood. Instead of the insulting language which used to herald his attacks, nothing was heard but the grinding of his teeth. The clash of their blades fell as incessant on the ear as the gallop of a horse-and in the distance was heard the merry noise of a feast. The combat had lasted for some minutes, growing instantly more dreadful, for the issue could not long be delayed. The minutes are long, when every second is noted by the clash of a sabre blow, which may give a deathwound. As yet, no blood had been drawn but from the Parisian. A large wound gaped on his left shoulder. “Enough, enough!" cried his second. Thibaut was about to spring between the combatants, when he saw Norbert's sabre fall with force sufficient to cleave his foe to the chin. The blow was warded off, and next moment he saw his friend, pierced through the heart, fall to the ground a stiffened | corpse. The duellist leaned his back to a tree, looking intently at his victim. Then suddenly recovering his sabre, which hung dangling, and dropping red blood upon the ground, he addressed Thibaut with a ferocious look:"Coward! if you had acted like a man, I should only have killed a dog like you." Thibaut heard him not. The second of the Parisian forced his principal from the spot, saying, "Come: all is over." Thibaut heard him not. He stood motionless, with clasped hands, looking intently at the spot where Norbert had stood when he first crossed swords with his enemy. He turned at last, and threw himself upon the corpse of his friend. He turned the body, raised it from the ground, let it fall, dragged it along by the arms-" Norbert! Norbert!" His friend was dead, deaf, dumb,- —an object of terror to him. The young! the brave! A dog might outrage him with impunity, a child snatch the sabre from his hand. | who was known to Thibaut, "It is Norbert; see how they have treated him."-" And who has done this?" Thibaut dropped the body, and bounded away without answering. "Who has done this ?" muttered Thibaut to himself, as he ran towards his quarter. "It was I! it was the Parisian! it was I! it was the Parisian!" These words floated confusedly through his mind. His comrades He entered the sleeping apartment. were in bed. The Parisian had not returned. Thibaut plunged into the bed which he and Norbert had occupied. He heard the dragoons speak of the duel. He heard the Parisian enter, joking with his companion; he heard him lie down, and in a short time breathe deeply as if asleep. Thibaut drew himself into a ball, at the head of his bed, like a panther about to spring upon its prey. The night seemed endless. He wept, sobbed, and writhed about the wide bed like a worm. In the morning the réveille was no sooner blown, than Thibaut approached the Parisian with a smile that might have appalled the boldest. “You killed my friend like a brave man that is nothing-but you gave me a base and coward blow, and must make reparation."—“ Ha, ha !” replied the dragoon, “these days are doomed to be fatal to the Normans. But go thy ways, conscript; I am not in the humour just now."-" You will not fight with me?" said Thibaut, joyfully, and turned to seek his carbine. "If you insist upon it. Any thing to please you. But take care. Remember the lad of yesterday.”—“ That is the quarrel,” cried Thibaut. "The lad of yesterday. Let us begone!"" Are you in such a hurry? Whither, younker ?"" To the place of yesterday," screamed Thibaut, in a voice that chilled the heart of the duellist. "That is a strange fancy," said the latter, with a vain attempt to force a smile, "and thy second?”—“ The lad of yesterday," repeated Thibaut. "Come, kill me too, or after to-day you will kill no one.”—“ Gently, gently, it will not take long to bleed a white chicken like thee." And in truth Thibaut was pale-but not with fear. This time the fight did not last long. "Your comrade,” said the duellist, “did not understand how to manage a blow at the head. See how I set about it. Guard your head!" It was of no avail. Thibaut only opposed his left arm to the sabre, and while the keen blade bit into the bone, he buried his sword twice in the belly of the Parisian. The sword remained in his body; he drew it out, and turned a glance of defiance upon his conqueror. A first murder is horrible, even to the most unfeeling, but Thibaut thought of Norbert. He assisted in raising the dying man, but it was only to have an opportunity of watching more narrowly his last convulsive struggles. The shock which Thibaut received from these events, and the emotions which they excited, has completely changed his nature. He is himself become a duellist, and formidable, but only to bullies. He is the protector of the young and inexperienced. His aspect is pale and troubled. On account of the blood he has shed? Oh no; Norbert died in his defence, and he has no one to supply his place. EXHIBITION OF THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY. LANDSCAPES. KNOWLEDGE of colouring and grouping are the chief requisites in a landscape painter. Individual form goes for nothing in a finished picture, however useful a severe attention to it in preliminary studies may be. All details ought Despair has strange impulses. Thibaut snatched the to be indicated rather than expressed; but, at the same time, sabre from Norbert's hand, gathered hastily his helmet, all mistiness ought to be carefully avoided. Exact porcoat, stock-every thing. He then lifted the corpse upon traits of any scene in nature, however pleasing in a sketch, his other arm. One would have thought the strength rarely make a good picture. If they are ever to be toof his deceased friend had been added to his own. Thus lerated, it is when they are taken merely as the medium loaded, he ran towards the hospital, their two sheaths through which to express some transient effect of elerattling on the stones as he hurried along. It was dark.mentary commotion. The artist must ever keep in view "Who goes there demanded a sentinel-a Norman that he works at a disadvantage, when he attempts to vie with nature, he addresses himself to the eye alone; while she has access to the heart of man through the avenue of every sense. He must endeavour to compensate his limited sphere by the exquisite perfection of his creations. The landscape-painter cannot address our human sympathies but by associations-nevertheless, a wide field is left open to him, over which he may breathe a soul of poetry. The effects of the storm-wind and the thunder-cloud-the deep mystical tints of twilight-the recesses of forests, and of the eternal hills-all these, in the hands of a man of genius, may be made to work with overwhelming power upon the soul. Landscape-painting is in its origin, and from the necessity of its nature, an article of domestic luxury. Less fitted than representations of human form and action to adorn public buildings, it is the best ornament of an apartment. It reminds us, amid the din and smother of populous cities, of the freshness of nature. A good landscape is as dear to us, as familiar a household thing, as a good book. But we must turn to our artists, after thus delicately hinting to our readers the propriety of completing the furniture of their favourite apartment, be it boudoir or study. Thomson has only two pictures in this exhibition, but they are both, and especially No. 147,-an upright composition of Inveresk Castle,-worthy of the artist. It is deliciously cool and fresh; the water dances along, part in light, part in the shadow of the overhanging trees a shadow like that in nature which not only rests upon the earth or the stream, but visibly interpenetrates the atmosphere. piece. "Craigmillar from the Dalkeith Road," (48,) Ewbank has some very pleasing landscapes done in a style peculiar to himself. He is apt, however, to repeat his good things. His "Moorland Scene," (30,) his “Muirland Scene," (47,) and his "Ben-Nevis," (145,) are all in a great measure repetitions of the same idea. A piece of deep brown, and some water in the foreground, and bleached hills stretching away in the distance, are what produce the effect in the whole three. They are, notwithstanding, clever pictures, particularly No. 47; and we merely mention this circumstance, in order to show Mr Ewbank the danger he runs of becoming a mannerist. "The Mouth of the Frith of Forth" is extremely happy. The Nasmyth family may be dispatched in one brief paragraph, for they paint so much alike that the sentence passed upon one, applies to all. They are not unfrequently happy in their selection of subjects. In this matter they evince both feeling and judgment. But what Sir Walter Scott said of the old gentleman's portrait of Burns, applies to the landscapes of the whole family--they look like nature seen through an inverted telescope. There is, moreover, no atmosphere in their world—no shadow beneath their trees. William Simpson continues to advance. In all that regards the picturesque, his landscapes may now be considered almost faultless. His "Solway Moss" (167) is a beautiful and daring picture. The deep-toned foreground, with the cows in all that enjoyment of repose, which these animals alone seem to enjoy in its full extent -the water, reflecting a light which has deserted the solid ground the undulating surface in the middle distance, reflecting each its peculiar effect of light and colour--the distant hills, disappearing in brightness-are so harmo- We must make short work with the rest of our landniously and effectively arranged, as to leave nothing far-scape-painters. Somerville has a beautiful landscape, (6,) ther to be wished. Only inferior to this work is the same artist's" Scene in Glen-Tilt," (46.) We have seldom felt more pleasure than in following with our eye the undulating line by which we are led from the deep forest shade, over the huge rock in the foreground, down upon the dazzling stream, or in allowing it to rest upon the elegant trees which hang their feathery branches over the water. The two small pictures, "Morning," (182,) and "Salmon Fishers," (302,) are also excellent, We have said that Simpson's pictures are faultless in all that regards the picturesque. This restricted expression we have used advisedly; for we find in them no traces of that poetry which imbues every picture of Turner and Thomson. Mr Simpson's remaining pictures will come under our review in a subsequent notice. but we shall have an opportunity of discussing the merits of this rapidly-rising artist in a subsequent number. Barker has a clever wood-scene, (328.) Shiels has two really good landscapes" The Bleaching Green," (5,) and Fawside Moss," (19.) The sky of the latter is excellent. LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC SOCIETIES OF SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES. Monday Evening, 28th Feb. 1831. SIR HENRY JARDINE in the Chair. We next turn our attention to Crawford, for he paints so excessively like the artist we have just been discussing, that we have ere now "mixed their pictures" as Looney THERE were presented to the Society by the Barons MacTwolter did the billets-doux. We should like to of Exchequer, a number of Scottish and English coins, know which of these gentlemen imitates the other. "A chiefly silver, in good preservation, and a very fine and rare View on the Esk," by Crawford, (105,) is, although un-gold coin of Antoninus Pius;-all found in this country equal, on the whole an excellent picture. There is in one part of it a want of atmospheric effect, which makes the trees upon the high bank look as near the spectator as the foreground. The distance and the sky are beautiful. The "View near Moffat," is a fine and spirited picture, executed in a style more the artist's own. J. F. Williams is in great force this year. His " View of the Solway" (55) is a harmoniously arranged picture, with a fine aerial distance. "The Bridge of Dochart" (118) is also pleasing. "Windsor Castle" (130) is in a style of colouring which we have never before seen in any of this artist's pictures there is poetry in this little at the places mentioned in an accompanying letter from the King's Remembrancer in Exchequer. There were exhibited, by permission of a Lady, who brought them from the Continent, five very fine Greek coins of Sicily and Rhodes, two of them gold, and three silver-all in the highest state of preservation ;—a number of interesting Italian antiques from Rome and Naples, and a very beautiful and undoubted specimen of the workmanship, in gold and enamel, of the celebrated BENVENUTO CELLINI. The Secretary then read part of a very interesting paper, by Mr D. Laing, entitled "Some Remarks upon the State of the Fine Arts in Scotland, during the 15th and 16th centuries." We shall probably make some observations on this subject, after hearing the conclusion of Mr Laing's Essay, traordinarily attractive. That at Covent Garden is by which is to be read at the next Meeting of the Society; but our clever friend, Peake, and there are also new operas we may observe, en passant, that Mr Laing appears to have in rehearsal at both theatres.-Madame Vestris has prodone every justice to his theme while illustrating theduced two or three very successful one-act novelties at stages of the fine arts in this country, in spite of the culty of communicating interest to the meagre notices which the Olympic; and Mathews has been equally fortunate are all we can now obtain regarding them; und we there with a new burletta, called "Kind Intentions," at the fore anticipate much pleasure in tracing this interesting | Adelphi ; in which he play's the hero as no one else could subject nearer to our own times under the surveillance of playIt is the production of his son. The new so correct an antiquary. ade souie wouds and entertainment to be produced by Mathews and Yates Mr Repp then read an Essay on the probable derivation jointly, at Easter, is also in active preparation, and is of the well-known New Year's formula of congratulation written by: Pehke and on the Wednesdays and Fridays, www & Troll-a-lay in this country," Hogmanay, Rejecting the Greek derivation, which some philologists have maina Me WH. Williams delivers a sort of conjuring lectained so strenuously, and which we have always thought ture here, on the same principle, which we can most a strained and absurd one, Mr Repp, in a very elaborate conscientiously recommend, for the following most suffipaper, to which it is impossible in any abridgement to do cient reasons: Firstly, it is a penance excellently well justice, gave a very satisfactory derivation of these words fitted to the season of Lent; and, secondly, as a preparafrom the old Anglo-Saxon; and it certainly is clear, that if tory contrast to what is in store for us, it will make Mathe words are significant in this tongue, that an that all foreign thews's Monopologue "stick fiery off indeed." derivations must at that the good Elves of Fairies of the up. Many of our readers are, no doubt, award olden time, who in the Norse and Anglo-Saxon languages were called Hognean, changed their abodes, or at least in clined to change them, Scotice, to flit, at the end of one year or the commencement of the next. Nothing could tend so much to propitiate these capricious Elves, and thereby induce them to remain during the incoming, at this critical year in old quarters, than the period, of" The Elves for ever!" which is the literal translation of the Anglo-Saxon Hogman-aye. Troll-a-lay, on the other hand, is an imprecation directed against the Trollds, or evil spirits,-in short, wishing them at the bottom of the sea, or literally "The Trolds to the Sea." Such is Mr Repp's interpretation of this hitherto mystic formula; and it does not require much penetration to seb that of all that have yet been started, it is most likely to be correct. It has farther one advantage, peculiar, we believe, to itself :— the accentuation in the Norse or Anglo-Saxon languages is precisely the same as that given to the words by the Scottish people of the present day. Our theatrical amusements being of their fair proportion" by the laws of Lent, have not only two evenings in the week any plays at a all, but we have had " At the French Plays at the Haymarket, a Monsieur Bouffé and a Mademoiselle Jamin are attracting crowded audiences; and at the Italian Opera, Signor David, though he has " a little of the saltness of age" in him, is proving that he has once been superexcellent. Miss Paton is engaged here as a prima donna; and a schism amongst the tailors has postponed the long-promised ballet of" Kenilworth.", Id, prodhues Peregrine Somerset. yult stad infw on 70 ud THE EDINBURGH DRAMA. Two novelties have attracted us, to the Theatre since our last publication" Separation and Reparation,” a farce; and Fazio," a revived tragedy. We know not what resurrection-man dug up the latter, and carried it to our dissecting-room in Shakspeare Square, but we owe him little thanks for it. Not that it was by any means ill acted, on albigot up,(except in what regards the furniture of Fazio's apartment it really seemed to us that Pritchard seemed rather puzzled when he turned to look at his cutible, and found nothing but an eighteen-inch terrestrial globe,) but simply that it is a play utterly undramatic. The versification is faultless, the imagery gorgeous, but there is an utter want of passion and action on the other too shyoujours in the the true ingredients of the drama. Milman's poetry shape of repetitions, so constantly, as to our critical function almost a sinecure 911 312 47947 Comrades s'and Friends, or Life for Life," at Covent Garden, was, as we so savery old and "Coburgised is of that class of Kigge en only be gaciously predicted, a mere resuscitati of very worn-out French for the minors many years melodramas a which and cause the cap speedy cannot issolution, at the same time. The revival of Shakspeare's Much Ado About Nothing," with Miss Kemble as Beatrice, has, however, in some degree made the tens of amende honorable, though we think that nothing can entirely excuse the managers for patronising any author who could pirate such trumpery. Mr Kemble's Benedick we need not pause to praise, because that character has no other adequate representative on the London boards, and the whole remainder of the cast, particularly Blanchard and Keeley as Dogberty and Verges, was almost equally effective. Miss Kemble, as the witty heroine, has very much Improved since her first performance, and though, ali atvirole, it is by no means her best part, yet we have no other tragic actress who could play it a tithe so wellpitated 8 Drury Lane's solitary new attraction has been the visit of their Majesties, on Tuesday last, to see Sheridan's "School for Scandal," and the Pantomime when the house was crowded to the ceiling with a most delighted | audience, and "God save the King" was sung for a third time at half-past Twelve, when the Royal Visitors departed. Both houses are now busily engaged in preparing their Easter spectacles, which promise to be ex describes passion instead of uttering it, Thus Fazio, when first yielding to Aldabella's lures, is made to say: spak bita (reqool] Had I been honest, 'twere indeed to fall; The taint upon these pestilence over the whole; but it is the feeling, not the reason, that is poisoned-men do not argue themselves syllogistically into evil. Again: Moll 991995 в zшnido,dor Libilo, bin, godin IU Why should we dash the goblet from our lips, Because the dregs may have a smack of bitter ?" di Hale noitrusque a indi b90191, 9s mito Whema)man resolves tó házard future wretchedness for a présent joy, he does not wrap his meaning up in sounding words he sets his teeth, and dashes on in silence. The faults we have now adverted to are the children of false sentiment. The following (and it is a sample of the most numerous class in the play) is produced by a want of sentimento The old miser, when dying, speaks of hislainm el 99iq edx 1. sno to moim zasad, of han ingots scarcely cold on Intole Li From the hot Indies." Such a flight is totally out of character, and is a mere substitution of violent imagery for passion. Thus much for the passion of the play. How languid the action, may be easily conceived, when we recall the fact, that the two first acts are occupied with a preliminary review of the dramatis persona, that we may know distinctly their |