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mart for slaves to the more civilized nations of the radiation goes on till they become colder than the surroundworld, God forbid that we should any longer sub-ing air, which always contains a portion of water in the ject Africa to the same dreadful scourge, and exclude the sight of knowledge from her coasts, which has reached every other quarter of the globe.

I trust we shall no longer continue this commerce; and that we shall no longer consider ourselves as conferring too great a boon on the natives of Africa in restoring them to the rank of human beings. I trust we shall not think ourselves too liberal, if, by abolishing the Slave-trade, we give them the same common chance of civilization with other parts of the world. If we listen to the voice of reason and duty this night, some of us may live to see a reverse of that picture from which we now turn our eyes with shame. We may live to behold the natives engaged in the calm occupations of industry, and in the pursuit of a just commerce. We may behold the beams of science and philosophy breaking in upon their land, which at some happy period in still later times, may blaze with full lustre; and joining their influence to that of pure religion, may illuminate and invigorate the most distant extremities of that immense continent. Then might we hope, that even Africa (though last of all the quarters of the globe) should enjoy at length, in the evening of her days, those blessings which have descended so plentifully upon us in a much earlier period of the world. Then also would Europe, participating in her improvement and prosperity, receive an ample recompense for the tardy kindness (if kindness it can be called) of no longer hindering her from extricating herself out of the darkness, which, in other more fortunate regions, has been so much more speedily dispelled.

It is in this view-it is as an atonement for our long and cruel injustice towards Africa, that the measure proposed by my honourable friend, Mr. Wilberforce, most forcibly recommends itself to my mind. The great and happy change to be expected in the state of her inhabitants is, of all the various benefits of the abolition, in my estimation, the most extensive and important. I shall vote against the adjournment; and I shall also oppose every proposition which tends either to prevent, or even to postpone for an hour, the total abolition of the Slavetrade.

POPULAR SCIENCE.

ON THE FORMATION OF DEW.

THE formation of dew is unknown to many; and as some conceive it to emanate from the earth, which is not the case, I will endeavour to explain it, as clearly as possible, by the theory which is generally received.

Heat possesses the well-known property of radiation, which consists in warm bodies throwing off rays of heat in all directions, until they become of the same temperature as the surrounding matter. During the day, the earth becomes heated by the sun, and imparts part of its warmth to the surrounding atmosphere; after the sun sets, the earth, stones, grass, &c., being much warmer than the air, radiate rays of heat, which rays in a cloudy might are reflected back upon the earth by the clouds, and its temperature is reduced little or nothing below that of the air, and no dew is formed; hence you never see dew on the ground after a cloudy night. But when the weather is fine, and the sky quite clear of clouds, the rays of heat having nothing to reflect them, are radiated into vacant space and are lost; the

state of vapour, and which, coming in contact with the cold stones, &c., is condensed, and forms water, which is the dew. An experiment illustrative of this in part, is seen every day in bringing a glass of cold water into a warm room; the watery vapour coming in contact with the cold glass is condensed, and forms the misty appearance which the glass presents. Some substances radiate heat better than others; thus polished stones and metals, which radiate imperfectly, will be found almost dry on a dewy morning, while in a rough unpolished condition, they will be found drenched with moisture.

DISTANCE OF THE PLANETS.-The method of investigation used to determine the distance of a planet, is the same as that applied to find out the distance of any object within the shore, passes any object, such as a lighthouse, if the our view upon the earth. Thus, if a ship coasting along object lies near her line of course, she very quickly leaves it behind her; but if the object be many miles from her line of course, she appears to be nearly abreast of it, perhaps the whole of the day, although sailing at a rapid rate. This would enable us to judge of the distance, if the diminution of the object in point of size did not also convince Now, upon this very fact of principle, united with a discovery of Kepler's, and other information gathered at observations taken during the transit of Venus over the disk of the sun, in 1769 and 1781, do philosophers determine the distances and measure the diameters of the planets-This times of the planets are as the cubes of their mean disdiscovery of Kelper's was, that the squares of the periodical

us.

tances from the sun.

numbers expressing the times of going round, each by itThat is to say, if you multiply the self, the products will be to one another in the proportion of the average distances multiplied each by itself, and that product again by the distance. Thus, if one body take two hours, and is five yards distant, the other, being ten yards distant, will take something less than five hours and forty minutes. Knowing, therefore, the distance of one planet, it is easy to find out the distance of all the rest, because the squares of the periodical times of the planets are as the cubes of their mean distances from the sun.-The Christian Philosopher.

astronomical instruments has afforded the prospect of being DISTANCE OF THE FIXED STARS.-The perfection of able to determine the Annual Parallax, and consequently the distance of the fixed stars; but the quantity of devia

tion is so small as to have hitherto eluded the closest observa

tion. It cannot amount to a single second in the most conspicuous and probably the nearest of the stars. These lo minous bodies must, therefore, be more distant, at least two hundred thousand times, than the measure of the diameter of the earth. The light emitted from such neighbouring suns, though it flies with enormous rapidity, must yet tra vel more than six thousand years before it approaches the confines of our system. But scattered over the immensity of space, there may exist bodies which, by their magnitude and predominant attraction, retain or recall the rays of light, and are lost in solitude and darkness. the celerity of the luminous particles not exceeded four hun cheering beams of the sun. They would have been arrest dred miles in a second, we should never have enjoyed the ed in their journey, and drawn back to their source, before they reached the orbit of Mercury. But a star similar to our sun, and having a diameter sixty-three times greater would entirely overpower the impetus of light.

Had

HOW TO PREVENT GAS EXPLOSIONS.When a strong smell of gas is perceived, a leakage from some cause mus have taken place; and every door and window in the rocam which may contain it, should be opened, that the mixtur of gas and atmospheric air may escape. Neither lighte duced, or allowed to approach the place, until the whole candle nor any other inflamed substance should be intre the mixture of common air and gas is completely expelled and the room thoroughly ventilated. It cannot be to

OF MARRIED PEOPLE.

As a single man, I have spent a good deal of my time in noting down the infirmities of Married People, to console myself for those superior pleasures, which they tell me I have lost by remaining as I am.

strongly impressed upon every person who is in the practice A BACHELOR'S COMPLAINT OF THE BEHAVIOUR of using gas-lights, that the gas is not explosive of itself, in the state the public receive it from the gas-works; and to render it capable of exploding, it requires to be mixed in various proportions, of from five portions of coal gas to twelve of atmospheric air; and when mixed in any of these proportions, it will not explode unless flame come in contact with it. Whenever, therefore, any escape of the gas may be discovered to have taken place, the proper recourse is ventilation without delay, and preventing the introduction of a lighted candle, or any other kind of flame where the circumstance may occur. Proper ventilation, and keeping away flame, will infallibly tend to prevent accidents from explosion. These are facts which every one should know, and then he may use gas-lights not only without apprehension, but with the most perfect satisfaction.

INFLUENCE OF OCCUPATION UPON THE DURATION
OF LIFE.

AMONGST men of genius, or those who have distinguished themselves in science or literature, life is, at least in modern times, of rather a short duration. Mr. D'Israeli, in his estimate of the literary character, mentions the excitement which all eminent men are accustomed to feel, and which, by acting physically on the brain, tends naturally to

abridge life amongst such persons. But the late Neibhur, the Roman historian, we remember, observes in one of his philosophical chapters, that nothing tends more to longevity, than the contemplation of projects, which one has one's self conceived, in their progress to a successful development. Hence generals, who have retired from the field, after having attained the objects of their warfare according to their wishes, are long-lived-and the historian adduces, as an example of what he says, the case of Camillus. We can ourselves quote many modern instances to confirm this opinion. Marlborough, one of the most fortunate leaders that ever commanded an army, lived rather too long for his own reputation. We sincerely hope that our posterity will not have to repeat the same thing of the Marlborough who succeeded him, and who, under the name of Wellington, carried the glory of the British arms to the ends of the earth. Perhaps it is for a contrary reason that we see so few British statesmen live long in office. Those who lead a party, and are unsuccessful in their plans, die always prematurely. Witness Pitt, Fox, Canning, &c. But the great Bacon died in bis 64th year; Newton, at 84; Harvey (the discoverer of the circulation) at 88; Linnæus at 71; Leibnitz at 70; Galileo, 70. On the contrary, Bichat, a modern, died in his 34th year; and Davy, before he reached 60. Amongst 1700 cases of persons in all classes of society, who have reached the age of 100, only one literary man was to be found, and that was Fontenelle. We have before us a list of nearly 300 persons, men and women, in all parts of the United Kingdom, who had attained to a great age (in no instance less than 100) during the term of years, beginning with 1807, and ending in 1823, both included, and we cannot discover throughout the whole catalogue, a single name that has linked itself with an expression or a deed worthy of being remembered for an hour. So true is it, as an illustrious man has profoundly said, and as the only rival of that man's splendid fame which the modern world could produce has repeated, "The duties of life are more than life." Rather a curious confirmation of Niebhur's doctrine just mentioned, is to be found in the ages of all the successful painters. The Italian artists, with very few exceptions, lived long-Titian was 96; Spenello was nearly 100; Carlo Cignani, 91; Michael Angelo, 90; Leonardo da Vinci, 75; Calabresi, 86; Claude Lorraine, 82: Carlo Maratta, 88; Tentoretti, 82; Sebastian Ricci, 78; Francesco Albano, 83; Guido, 68; Guercino, 76; John Baptist Crespi, 76; Guiseppe Crespi, 82; Carlo Dolce, 70; Andrew Sacchi, 74; Zacharelli, 86; Vernet, 77; and Schidon, 76.-Monthly CEDAR-TREES.-There are now growing on the grounds at Greenfield Hall, the property of Ralph Richardson, Esq., two cedar-trees, of the immense height of 150 feet; the girth of one is 11 feet, 7 inches, and its branches extend 50 feet; the girth of the other is 8 feet, 7 inches.-Chester Chronicle.

Review.

I cannot say that the quarrels of men and their wives ever made any great impression upon me, or had much tendency to strengthen in me those anti-social resolutions, which I took up long ago upon more substantial considerations. What oftenest offends me at the houses of married persons where I visit, is an error of quite a different description ;-it is, that they are too loving.

Not too loving neither; that does not explain my meaning. Besides, why should that offend me? The very act of separating themselves from the rest of the world to have the fuller enjoyment of each other's society, implies that they prefer one another to all the world.

ence.

But what I complain of is, that they carry this preference so undisguisedly, they perk it up in the faces of us single people so shamelessly, you cannot be in their company a moment without being made to feel, by some indirect hint or open avowal, that you are not the object of this preferNow there are some things which give no offence, there is much offence in them. while implied or taken for granted merely; but expressed, first homely-featured or plain-dressed young woman of his If a man were to accost the acquaintance, and tell her, bluntly, that she was not handsome or rich enough for him, and he could not marry her, he would deserve to be kicked for his ill manners; yet no nity of putting the question to her, he has never yet thought less is implied in the fact, that having access and opportufit to do it. The young woman understands this as clearly as if it were put into words; but no reasonable young woJust as little right have a married couple to tell me by man would think of making this the ground of a quarrel. speeches, and looks that are scarce less plain than speeches, that I am not the happy man,-the lady's choice. It is enough that I know I am not: I do not want this perpetual reminding.

sufficiently mortifying; but these admit of a palliative. The display of superior knowledge or riches may be made The knowledge which is brought out to insult me, may accidently improve me; and in the rich man's houses and pictures, his parks and gardens, I have a temporary usufruct at least. But the display of married happiness has none of these palliatives: it is throughout pure, unrecompensed, unqualified insult.

Marriage, by its best title, is a monopoly, and not of the least invidious sort. It is the cunning of most possessors of any exclusive privileges to keep their advantage as much seeing little of the benefit, may the less be disposed to quesout of sight as possible, that their less favoured neighbours, most obnoxious part of their patent into our faces. tion the right. But these married monopolists thrust the

Nothing is to me more distasteful than that entire comof a new-married couple, in that of the lady particularly: placency and satisfaction which beam in the countenances it tells you, that her lot is disposed of in this world; that you can have no hopes of her. It is true, I have none; nor wishes either, perhaps: but this is one of those truths which ought, as I said before, to be taken for granted, not expressed.

founded on the ignorance of us unmarried people, would be The excessive airs which those people give themselves, them to understand the mysteries belonging to their own more offensive if they were less irrational. We will allow craft better than we who have not had the happiness to be made free of the company; but their arrogance is not content within these limits. If a single person presume to offer his opinion in their presence, though upon the most indifferent subject, he is immediately silenced as an incompetent person. Nay, a young married lady of my acquaintance, who, the best of the jest was, had not changed her condition above a fortnight before, in a question on which I had the misfortune to differ from her, respecting the properest mode of breeding oysters for the London market, had the assur

ance to ask, with a sneer, how such an old Bachelor as I could pretend to know any thing about such matters.

But what I have spoken of hitherto is nothing to the airs which these creatures give themselves when they come, as they generally do, to have children. When I consider how little of a rarity children are, that every street and blind alley swarms with them, that the poorest people commonly have them in most abundance,-that there are few marriages that are not blessed with at least one of these bargains, -how often they turn out ill and defeat the fond hopes of their parents, taking to vicious courses, which end in poverty, disgrace, the gallows, &c., I cannot, for my life, tell what cause for pride there can possibly be in having them. If they are young phoenixes, indeed, that were born but one in a year, there might be a pretext. But when they are so

common

I do not advert to the insolent merit which they assume with their husbands on these occasions. Let them look to that. But why we, who are not their natural-born subjects, should be expected to bring our spices, myrrh, and incense, -our tribute and homage of admiration,-I do not see. "Like as the arrows in the hand of the giant, even so are the young children :" so says the excellent office in our Prayer-book appointed for the churching of women. "Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them :" so say I; but then, don't let him discharge his quiver upon us that are weaponless ;-let then be arrows, but not to gall and stick us. I have generally observed that these arrows are double-headed; they have two forks, to be sure to hit with one or the other. As for instance, where you come into a house which is full of children, if you happen to take no notice of them (you are thinking of something else, perhaps, and turn a deaf ear to their innocent caresses,) you are set down as untractable, morose, a hater of children. On the other hand, if you find them more than usually engaging, if you are taken with their pretty manners, and set about in earnest to romp and play with them, some pretext or other is sure to be quickly found for sending them out of the room: they are too noisy or boisterous, or Mr. - does not like children. With one or other of these forks the arrow is sure to hit you.

I could forgive their jealousy, and dispense with toying with their brats, if it gives them any pain; but I think it unreasonable to be called upon to love them, where I see no occasion,-to love a whole family, perhaps, eight, nine, or ten, indiscriminately,-to love all the pretty dears, because children are so engaging.

I know there is a proverb, "Love me, love my dog :" that is not always so very practicable, particularly if the dog be set upon you to teaze you or snap at you in sport. But a dog, or a lesser thing, any inanimate substance, as a keepsake, a watch or a ring, a tree, or the place where we last parted when my friend went away upon a long absence, I can make shift to love, because I love him, and any thing that reminds me of him; provided it be in its nature indifferent, and apt to receive whatever hue fancy can give it. But children have a real character and an essential being of themselves: they are amiable or unamiable per se; I must love or hate them as I see cause for either in their qualities. A child's nature is too serious a thing to admit of its being regarded as a mere appendage to another being, and to be loved or hated accordingly: they stand with me upon their own stock, as much as men and women do. O but you will say, sure it is an attractive age, there is something in the tender years of infancy that of itself charms us. That is the very reason why I am more nice about them. I know that a sweet child is the sweetest thing in nature, not even excepting the delicate creatures which bear them; but the prettier the kind of a thing is, the more desirable it is that it should be pretty of its kind. One daisy differs not much from another in glory; but a violet should look and smell the daintiest.-I was always rather squeamish in my women and children.

But this is not the worst; one must be admitted into their familiarity at least, before they can complain of inattention. It implies visits and some kind of intercourse. But if the husband be a man with whom you have lived

on a friendly footing before marriage,if you did not
come in on the wife's side,-if you did not sneak into the
house in her train, but were an old friend in fast habits
of intimacy before their courtship was so much as thought
on-look about you-your tenure is precarious before
a twelvemonth shall roll over your head, you shall find
your old friend gradually grow cool and altered towards.
you, and at last seek opportunities of breaking with you.
I have scarce a married friend of my acquaintance, upon
whose firm faith I can rely, whose friendship did not
With
commence after the period of his marriage.
some limitations they can endure that: but that the good
man should have dared to enter into a solemn league of
friendship in which they were not consulted, though it
happened before they knew him,-before they that are
now man and wife ever met, this is intolerable to them.
Every long friendship, every old authentic intimacy, must
be brought into their office to be new stamped with their
currency, as a sovereign prince calls in the good old money
that was coined in some interregnum before he was born
or thought of, to be new marked and minted with the
stamp of his authority, before he will let it pass current
in the world. You may guess what luck generally befalls
such a rusty piece of metal as I am in these new mintings.

Innumerable are the ways which they take to insult and worm you out of their husband's confidence. Laughing at all you say with a kind of wonder, as if you were a queer kind of fellow that said good things, but an oddity, is one of the ways;-they have a particular kind of stare for the purpose; till at last the husband, who used to defer to your judgment, and would pass over some excrescences of understanding and manner for the sake of a general vein of observation (not quite vulgar) which he perceived in you, begins to suspect whether you are not altogether a humorist, -a fellow well enough to have consorted with in his bachelor days, but not quite so proper to be introduced to ladies. This may be called the staring way, and is that which has oftenest been put in practice against me.

Then there is the exaggerating way, or the way of irony; that is, where they find you an object of especial regard with their husband, who is not so easily to be shaken from the lasting attachment, founded on esteem, which he has conceived towards you; by never-qualified exaggerations, to cry up all that you say or do, till the good man, who understands well enough that it is all done in compliment to him, grows weary of the debt of gratitude which is due to so much candour, and by relaxing a little on his part, and taking down a peg or two in his enthusiasm, sinks at length to that kindly level of moderate esteem, that "decent affection and complacent kindness" towards you, where she herself can join in sympathy with him without much stretch and violence to her sincerity.

Another way (for the ways they have to accomplish so desirable a purpose are infinite) is, with a kind of inno. cent simplicity, continually to mistake what it was which If an esteem for first made their husband fond of you. something excellent in your moral character was that which riveted the chain which she is to break, upon any imaginary discovery of a want of poignancy in your conversation, she will cry, "I thought, my dear, you described your friend Mr. as a great wit." If, on the other hand, it was for some supposed charm in your conversation that he first grew to like you, and was content for this to overlook some trifling irregularities in your moral deportment, upon the first notice of any of these she as readily exclaims," This, my dear, is your good Mr. One good lady whom I took the liberty of expostulating with for not showing me quite so much respect as I thought due to her husband's old friend, had the can. dour to confess to me that she had often heard Mr. speak of me before marriage, and that she had conceived a great desire to be acquainted with me, but that the sight of me had very much disappointed her expectations; for, from her husband's representations of me, that she had formed a notion that she was to see a fine, tall, officer-like looking man (I use her very words;) the very reverse of which proved to be the truth. This was candid; and I had

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the civility not to ask her in return, how she came to pitch upon a standard of personal accomplishments for her husband's friends which differed so much from his own: for my friend's dimensions as near as possible approximated to mine; he standing five feet five inches in his shoes, in which I have the advantage of him by about half an inch; and he no more than myself exhibiting any indications of a martial character in his air or countenance.

These are some of the mortifications which I have encountered in the absurd attempt to visit at their houses. To enumerate them all would be a vain endeavour; I shall therefore just glance at the very common impropriety of which married ladies are guilty, of treating us as if we were their husbands, and vice versa. I mean, when they use us with familiarity, and their husbands with ceremony. Testacea, for instance, kept me the other night two or three hours beyond my usual time of supping, while she was fretting because Mr. - did not come home, till the oysters which she had had opened, out of compliment to me, were all spoiled, rather than she would be guilty of the impoliteness of touching one in his absence. This was reversing the point of good manners: for ceremony is an invention to take off the uneasy feeling which we derive from knowing ourselves to be less the objects of love and esteem with a fellow-creature than some other person is. It endeavours to make up, by superior attentions in little points, for that invidious preference which it is forced to deny in the greater. Had Testacea kept the oysters back for me, and withstood her husband's importunities to go to supper, she would have acted according to the strict rules of propriety. I know no ceremony that ladies are bound to observe to their husbands, beyond the point of a modest behaviour and decorum: therefore I must protest against the vicarious gluttony of Cerasia, who at her own table sent away a dish of morellas, which I was applying to with great good will, to her husband at the other end of the table, and recommended a plate of less extraordinary gooseberries to my unwedded palate in their stead. Neither can I excuse the wanton affront of

lions sterling. It will be seen that the articles exported consist entirely of agricultural produce. Ireland, in fact, seems destined to become the granary of England; and we cannot help hoping that the continually increasing intercourse between the two countries will at last have the effect of raising that rich and beautiful country to its pro per rank amongst the nations. The invention of steam has already done more for Ireland than a thousand acts of Parliament; and it must sooner or later, either raise it to the same level as England, or drag down England to the level of Ireland.

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The first record of the ravages of locusts which we find in history, is the account in the Book of Exodus, of their visitation to the land of Egypt. Africa appears to have been generally the quarter of the globe most severely subjected to the inroads of the locust tribe. A law was enacted and enforced, in the territory of Cyrene, according to the account of Pliny, by which the people were obliged to destroy these insects in the egg, in the larva state, and in the image. A similar law prevailed in the island of Lemnos, where each person was forced to furnish annually a certain quantity of locusts. According to Orosius, A. M. 3800, the north of Africa was so inBut I am weary of stringing up all my married acquain-fested by them, that every vestige of vegetation vanished tance by Roman denominations. Let them amend and from the face of the earth. After this, he adds, that they change their manners, or I promise to send you the full-flew off to sea and were drowned; but their carcases being length English of their names, to be recorded to the terror of all such desperate offenders in future. Your humble servant,

STATISTICS.

ELIA.

CATTLE AND SHEEP.-A century ago, our cattle, from the inferiority of their food, were not one-half, sometimes even not one-third, of their present weight. It is computed that England and Wales now contain, at least, five million oxen, and a million and a half of horses, of which about a million are used in husbandry, two hundred thousand for pleasure, and three hundred thousand are colts and breeding mares. The number of sheep is about twenty millions, and eight millions lambs. The number of longwooled sheep is above five millions, their fleeces averaging seven or eight pounds; and of short-wooled sheep fifteen millions, the weight of fleece averaging from three to three and a-half pounds. The whole quantity annually shorn in England is from eighty to eighty-five millions of pounds. The Merino were introduced about the beginning of the present century, and were imported in large numbers after our alliance with Spain, in 1809. The Cachemere goat has lately been introduced into Essex, and is thriving. The great pasturage counties are Leicester, Northampton, Lincoin, and Somerset; and for butter and cheese, Cheshire, Gloucestershire, and Wiltshire. The import of butter and cheese, from foreign countries is checked by duties, but these are important articles of Irish commerce with England.

IRISH TRADE WITH LIVERPOOL. Some idea of the extent and importance of the trade between Ireland and this port may be formed from the following list of Irish articles imported into Liverpool during the year 1831. It would not be easy to form an accurate estimate of the value of these imports, but it must amount to several mil

cast upon shore, emitted a stench equal to what might have been produced by the dead bodies of 100,000 men. We are told by St. Augustine, that a pestilence arising from the same cause, destroyed no less than 800,000 people in the kingdom of Numidia, and many more in the countries along the sea-coast.

Blown from that quarter of the globe, the locusts have The former occasionally visited both Italy and Spain. country was severely ravaged by myriads of those desolating intruders in 591 A. C. These were of a larger size than common, as we are informed by Mouffet, who quotes an ancient historian; and from their stench when cast into the sea, caused a plague, which carried off infinite A famine took place numbers, both of men and cattle. in the Venetian territory in 1487, occasioned by the ravages of these insects, in which 30,000 persons are reported to have perished. Mouffet mentions many other instances of the same kind which have taken place in Europe at different periods. They entered Russia in immense divisions, in three different places, in 1600, darkening the air with their numbers, and passed over from there into Poland and Lithuania.

In many parts they lay dead to the depth of four feet. Sometimes they covered the surface of the earth like a dark cloud, loaded the trees, and the destruction which they produced exceeded all calculation. They fall sometimes upon corn, and in three hours will consume an entire field, as happened once in the south of France. When they had finished the corn they extended their devastations to vines, pulse, willows, and in short, to every thing else wearing the shape of vegetation, not excepting even hemp, which was not protected by its bitterness.

In 1748 considerable numbers of locusts visited this country, but luckily they did not propagate, and all soon perished.

COLUMN FOR THE YOUNG.

SIR PHILIP SYDNEY.
BORN 1554-DIED 1586.

Abridged from JOHNSTONE'S Specimens of the Poets. This noble soldier and accomplished gentleman was the son of Sir Henry Sydney of Penshurst, in Kent. In his lifetime, Sydney enjoyed a popularity both at home and abroad, which is not easily accounted for, unless we believe what must have been the truth, that by the charm of his manners, and the nobility of his nature, he unconsciously diffused around himself the atmosphere through which his character and actions were viewed; and which gave to a mortal of ordinary proportions the stature and bearing of a hero of the old romance. Sydney is the connecting link between the knight of chivalry and the modern soldier and gentleman, one of those rare and happy persons who come into the world once in a century to unite the suffrages of mankind in one spontaneous feeling of love and admiration. Though his character was composed of all the elements which constitute a hero and a favourite bravery, generosity, frankness, courtesy, a noble disinterestedness, and much graceful accomplishment, his person and manners must have created the charm which made him, before the age of thirtytwo, the most popular man that ever lived in England.

At

It was the uniform practice of the age in which he lived, for youths liberally educated to attend both the universities; and Sydney did so before going on his travels. Paris he was made a gentleman of the bed-chamber—a mark of high distinction to a young foreigner. He was here seen and admired by Henry IV., then only King of Navarre. "He used him," says Sydney's friend and biographer, Sir Fulke Greville, "like an equal in nature, and fit for friendship with a king." The massacre of the Protestants, which took place during his residence in Paris, disgusted Sydney with France. He went to Frankfort, and at the court of the Emperor distinguished himself by his skill in martial exercises. Printers were at this time among the most learned men; and it is a curious trait of ancient manners to find scholars and foreigners lodged in their houses. At Frankfort, Sydney lived in the house of Andrew Wechel.

Before returning home, he spent a year in Italy, and it is presumed became acquainted with Tasso. On his return he was immediately taken into favour by Queen Elizabeth, who sent him as ambassador to Vienna, with a secret mission to unite the Protestant states of the empire against Spain. Sydney was but a young diplomatist, but he skilfully accomplished this important object; his manliness and candour being found more effective in swaying men's minds, than the subtlety and crooked policy which statesmen of more cunning than wisdom, think it needful to employ. He was at this time only about twenty years of age.

languished till the 15th of October, and died in Holland, whence his body was brought for burial. All England wore mourning for his death, and volumes of poetical laments and elegies were poured forth in all languages.

If not an eminent poet, Sydney was, in the most generous sense, the warm friend and patron of letters. But in literature, as in every other department, his short life was one of bright promise, rather than of wonderful achievement; and perhaps, at the age of thirty-two, the grave never closed over any man who combined such universal accomplishment, with so many amiable qualities, as this darling of the people of England. His learned tutor had recorded on his tomb, that " he was the tutor of Sir Philip Sydney," and his friend Sir Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke, who long survived Sydney, had this inscription put on his monument :-" Fulke Greville, servant of Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, and friend of Sir Philip "The life of Sir Philip Sydney," says Mr. Sydney." Campbell, "was poetry put in action."

INSCRIPTION FOR A TABLET AT PENSHURST, THE
BIRTH-PLACE OF SIR PHILIP SYDNEY.

ARE days of old familiar to thy mind,
O Reader? Hast thou let the midnight hour
Pass unperceived, whilst thou in fancy lived
With high-born beauties and enamour'd chiefs,
Sharing their hopes, and with a breathless joy,
Whose expectation touch'd the verge of pain,
Following their dangerous fortunes? If such love
Hath ever thrill'd thy bosom, thou wilt tread,
As with a pilgrim's reverential thoughts,
The groves of Penshurst. SYDNEY here was born,
SYDNEY, than whom no gentler, braver man
His own delightful genius ever feign'd
Illustrating the vales of Arcady

With courteous courage and with loyal love.
Upon his natal day, the acorn here
Was planted. It grew up a stately oak,
And in the beauty of its strength it stood
And flourish'd, when his perishable part
Had moulder'd dust to dust. That stately oak,
Itself hath mouldered now, but SYDNEY's fame
Endureth in his own immortal works.-SOUTHEY.

Let us explain MR. SOUTHEY's allusion. An oak was planted at Penshurst on the day of Sydney's birth, which grew to the noble size of twenty-two feet in circumerence, and was pulled down, it is said, by mistake. This tree was frequently called the "bare oak," says an English writer on trees. Tradition saith, that when the tenants went to the park gates to meet the Earl of Leicester, they used to adorn their hats with boughs from the Penshurst oak. Within its hollow trunk was a seat which could ac commodate five or six persons.

IRISH RELIGION IN AULD LANG SYNE.-"No good will come of it," said the Colouel. "I mind the time in Connaught when no man clearly knew to what religion be belong

Two years afterwards, Sydney was named as a candidate for the throne of Poland; but this proposal, which shews the estimation in which he was held, was crushed by the Queen, both from political and private reasons. "She refused," says the historian, "to farther the advancement, out of the fear that she should lose the jewel of her times." Sir Philip, having formerly united the Protestant states, was appointed to assist the people of the Netherlands in throwing off the yoke of Spain, and for this purpose heed; and in one family the boys would go to church and the commanded the military force sent from England. He was also made colonel of all the newly-raised Dutch regiments. He was soon joined by Leicester with more troops, and appointed general of horse. On the 224 of September, 1586, in a skirmish near Zutphen, Sydney beat a superior force of the enemy, which he casually encountered, but lost his own life. After his horse had been shot under him he mounted another, and continued to fight till he received his death-wound. The anecdote of his dying moments has been told a thousand times, but will never lose its interest: -While borne off the field, faint with the sick languor which attends the loss of blood, he requested a draught of water; but just as it was put to his lips, seeing a dying soldier beside him look wistfully at it, he put it away, saying, "This man's necessity is yet greater than mine."He

girls to mass, or may be both would join and go to which ever happened to be nearest. When I entered the militia, I recollect, the first time I was ever detached from headquarters. I went with the company to Portumna. Old Sir Mark Blake, who commanded the regiment, happened to be passing through, and the Right before he had a desperate drink with Gen. Loftus at the Castle. When I left Loughrea, I forgot to ascertain where I should bring the men on Sunday, and I thought this a good opportunity to ask the question. I opened his bed-room door softly. Sir Mark,' says 1, where shall I march the men?" What kind of day is it?' says he. Rather wet,' was my answer. 'It's like the night that preceded it,' said he. Upon my conscience, my lad, he continued, my head's not clear enough at present to recollect the exact position of church and chapel; but take them to the nearest. That is what I call," and the Colonel shook his head gravely, “real Christian feeling."-Wild Sports of the West.

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