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every rag we could hoist, either alow or aloft. But the he came, shivering with fear, and as pale as death. skipper, seeing 'twas no good, and that she wouldn't move seen it, mateys," he cried. “ Seen what ?" we asked. a jot, piped all hands but the watch below. A some Why, it. When I was up in the top, presently something, I don't know what it was, came over me, and thing came smack agen my cheek.” (But I forgot to almost, without knowing it, I found myself alongside the tell you, that Elrisa had a custom of putting her hand mizen. All was still. There wasn't a word to be heard on the skipper's mouth whenever he began to swear.) from the cabin. I crept softly down the companion, and “Well,” as Brown said, “smack agen my cheek it came found the door a little ajar. I peeped in, and saw him once more; and so I, thinking 'twas some of you making looking out of the starn windows, and she sitting on one fun of me, cried out, Belay there with your tricks, and of the chairs, sobbing, ready to break her heart; and, be d-d t'ye! Lord, I'd no sooner got the words out blow me, if I could help piping myself when I see'd it o' my mouth, than bang 'twas closed with a hand all 'Twas a little duskish, though not so much as to hinder blood, and all cut about the fingers, with never an arm me from seeing pretty well. Says I to myself, “ If the to it, as if it had been cut off at the wrist. You may be skipper catches me here, I'll get it; and he's pretty sure sure I didn't wait to see any more ; and may I be d-d to do so, if I wait till he comes to shut the door." So if ever I go up that 'ere top again !”—“ Oh!" said one of with that I found myself creeping in. Hang me, if I the men, “Brown's fallen asleep, and dreamed all this, and hardly knew what I did that night. I was a little fel has awoke by hitting his head 'gainst the mast, and so low then, and could creep or climb like a cat. There believed it all true.” He'd hardly spoke, when a voice was a sofa to the starboard of the door, under which I from the maintop sung out plain enough, “ On deck, popped myself, and made so little noise, that neither of there!” We were all a little startled at this; but we them ever heard me. Well, after he'd stood looking out counted, and found all hands on deck except the skipper, o' the windows for some time, he flung the middle one the doctor, and the mate. “ On deck, there !" sung out the right open, to let in air as I thought, and then began to voice again ; and then there was such a hooting, and yellwalk up and down like inad. Then he seemed to tire of ing, and shrieking, as if Davy and his crew had come to that, for he went and locked the cabin door. So, when anchor in our tops. Well, the skipper, hearing the noise, he'd done that, he goes up to Elrisa, and takes hold of came upon deck, and then the voice sung out again, her, and pulled her into the middle of the room, saying, deck, there !"_" Hilloah !” roared the skipper, running

Thou false wench, what hast thou got to say for your for’ard to the mainmast. “ Stand from under !" roared self, that I shouldn't send you to keep company with the the voice. “Let fall, and be dd t'ye !" said the skipper. sharks ?”—“ Oh, Harry,” said she, flinging her snow Blow me, but it came with a vengeance. Down dropped white arms round his neck, “ I never was false to thee !" a bloody hand, and directly it touched the deck, it started

_" You were !” he answered. My good cutlass has up, and fixed itself right on the skipper's lips. He done for thy minion the mate, and you shall go seek ran up the rigging like a madman into the top, where another in the deep."-" Spare me! spare me! Harry!” the yelling still kept up; but he wasn't there a moment -“ Never !" and then he dragged her to the window ; before he gives a jump, and goes right overboard ; and no and says I to myself, He's agoing to fling her over sooner did he reach the water than all was silent, and a. board, and if he finds me here, he'll fling me too." I was heavy squall arose that moment, and away flew the in a most awful predicament, and kept my very breath hooker like lightning through the waves : And if that isn't in for fear.

what I call a queer yarn, blow me that's all. Well, he took her up, and Aung her out of the window with all his might; but she clung so tight, that he was nearly after her, and there she hung by his neck.

THE DRAMA. I saw him take and tear her arms from round his neck with a madman's fury, and Aing them from him; but Having now seen Fanny Kemble in all her characters, she caught, with her right hand, the window-beam, and and having had a whole fortnight to make up our mind clutched it so tight, that he couldn't make her fingers let concerning her, we shall state, in very few words, what go their hold; and there she was, looking up so calmly our matured opinion is. Miss Kemble is not at this moand sweetly into his face, as if she was content to take ment a great actress. There is, of course, a vagueness in even death from his hands. Her love was great. When the term,“ great actress,” and we can explain it only by he saw he couldn't make her let go, he took up a hatchet, referring either to Mrs Siddons and Miss O'Neil, or to which was lying by chance on the floor, and with one that correct conception of what " great acting” ought to blow severed her hand from her arm. A heavy fall on be, which exists, or may exist, in the mind of every man the water, a stifled shriek, a gurgle of the closing wave, of cultivated taste. A great actress takes a house by said all was over with her. But there he stood, with the storm,—makes all the passions of their nature leap up hatchet still uplifted, gazing on the hand which was fixed within the breasts of her audience,—and moves the there convulsively in the death grasp, and all hell seemed boards almost like a thing of awe, calling forth at will to be imprinted on his features, so horrible and ghastly the loud involuntary plaudits, and the gushing tears, of was their expression. However, this didn't last long. an assembled multitude. Miss Kemble capnot do this ;He took and cut away the hand by pieces, for its grasp she is pleasing, and sometimes affecting, but the impreswas fixed so firm in death, that he couldn't unloose it. sion she produces is not deep, or lasting, or intense. We He then flung water over it, to wash out the stains of give her, at the same time, full credit for possessing a more the blood, and rushed out of the cabin upon deck. I than common share of genius; she has done what few young followed him, more dead than alive. “ All hands, ahoy !" | ladies at her age could have done, and she has all at once, he sung out; “ man the boat there ; cut away, every mo- by a sort of coup de main, achieved a popularity never bether's son of ye-Elrisa’s flung herself overboard !” You fore attained by so young a candidate for histrionic homay well suppose she was never found. He pretended to nours, all the brightest ornaments of the profession habe half mad at her loss; but he couldn't make the men be-ving previously served a long and tedious apprenticelieve but that he knowed more about her than what he said. ship. But popularity may soon blow past, and accidenI crept away to my hammock, shivering with fear. Not tal circumstances may have raised Miss Kemble upon a wink of sleep did I get that night, and I was too fright- stilts, which may, ere long, walk from under her feet. ened to say any thing about what I'd seen.

She must either rapidly improve, or she will soon cease Well, the calm still continued, and there we lay like to be an object of so much attraction as she is at present. a log on the water. About the third night after this So much for what Miss Kemble is. The next enhappened, a young fellow, named Brown, had been sky- quiry must be What is she likely to become? This is arking up in the maintop, when, all of a sudden, down a question more easily asked than answered. At the

same time, we hesitate not to say, that we have excellent distinction between genius and mere talent, however suchopes of her. She is a girl of genius, else she could not cessfully cultivated,-between delicate perception and have made the progress she has already made. When she clever performance-in short, between the genuine elebecomes more like a woman, and when her face and timents of first-rate excellence, and the most finished exegure consequently acquire more power and expression,-cution of second-rate acting. The newspaper press of when she can throw a greater volume of sound into her Edinburgh conveys an impression upon the whole unfavoice, and send forth more passion from her eye,—when vourable to the professional reputation which Miss Kemble she can make her audience feel that she has ceased to be acquired in London ; but the objections which have been merely a young lady in her teens, and that, in the full urged do not warrant this arbitrary reversal of the judg. possession of every feminine endowment, her own bosom ment awarded by our southern neighbours. One critic may have been agitated, in the various relations of life, does indeed find out that the lady is too young for many even as is painted in the mimic scene, we are inclined of her characters--another discovers that she wants digto hope that then Miss Kemble will, with propriety and nity of stature—a third quarrels with her face—and a grace, take her station at the very head of her profession. fourth is greatly scandalized with her pronunciation of On one condition alone, however, do we think this like the vowel o ; now, all these criticisms may be perfectly ly--that she concentrate all her powers on that depart-just without much affecting the only question in which ment of the art to which the natural bent of her own ge- the public at large is greatly interested, viz. is Miss nius led her originally, and in which she is much more Kemble, as a dramatic character, of first-rate genius, or is calculated to shine than in any other. No great per- she only a very clever actress ? former ever rose to equal eminence in both tragedy and The truth is, Miss Kemble is not, properly speaking, comedy, Who talks of Mrs Siddons or Miss O'Neil ex- clever at all. Her style of acting is not, in itself, calcucept as tragedians? Let Miss Kemble beware of frit- lated to astonish a crowd-she has nothing of the dash, tering down her mind by attempting to represent the and less of the rant, which calls down the clamorous apmere elegancies and trifling distresses of genteel comedy. plause of the galleries—and her personal appearance is She has no turn for it. We have seen her both in Lady prepossessing only from its simple modesty. To what Townly and in Portia, the only parts of the kind she has cause, then, are we to ascribe the crowded houses which yet played since her first debut, and she is very inferior she draws, and the unbounded applause with which she in both. Her face and figure tell much more against has been night after night received ? To her genius, unher in comedy than in tragedy; her upper row of teeth, questionably—to that admirable conception of her part in in particular, which are unfortunately a great deal too which she excels every actress we have seen, and to the large and conspicuous, are enough of themselves to ruin severity of judgment which makes her anxious to be, raany Lady Townly. But in truth, genius and cleverness ther than ambitious to act, her characters. I have often are too different things, and Miss Kemble, we trust, has heard mere declamation better given, but I never have too much of the former to make a good depicter of fashion seen a character sustained throughout with more truth able life. It is to tragedy that she owes her reputation, and dignity than by Miss Fanny Kemble; and wherever and let her stick to tragedy, for it is the steed that must the poet has given occasion, either in situation or sentibear her on to the mountain's top, if she is ever to reach ment, for nice developement of character or for genuine it. If she gives up tragedy, she takes her seat on an passion, her action, every tone of her voice, every feature ambling pony, and may canter smoothly enough on in of her countenance, become eloquent, and speak directly the train of Miss Ellen Tree anıl Miss Mordaunt; but to the heart. This is the evidence and the triumph of her ambition should be made “ of sterner stuff."

true genius. Perhaps in none of her characters has she Whilst we thus estimate Miss Kemble's present powers, displayed this power more strikingly than in her Isabella. and talk of her future prospects, it is but fair to confess | Your own“ CERBERUs” has done justice to one noble part that there are some others, and men of good judgment of her acting ; but the whole character is one of the very too, who are disposed to go considerably farther in the finest conception and most felicitous execution; and you praise of this young lady. Their arguments do not alter will readily acknowledge how much it owes to the genius our opinions, yet it is proper that they should be heard ; of the actress, when you remember that the poet is inand as the Literary Journal offers “ freedom to him that deed rich in situation, but exceedingly meagre in the fill. would write,” we have the editor's assurance, that he ing up of his characters, and that even of his heroine he willingly gives a place to the following communication, has merely sketched a happy outline. Miss Kemble is, which is at once temperately and ably expressed : perhaps, the only actress at present on the stage whose

mimic grief fairly cheats us into sympathy. For my

own part—and I know my case is far from being singuTo the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journal.

lar-I bave often bestowed on Mrs H. Siddons and Miss

Jarman, my warm and most sincere applause, but Miss Puff, 0, dear ma'am, you must start a great deal more than that Sdeath and fury! Gadslife! sir!

madam! if you go out Fanny Kemble alone has commanded my tears. Were without the parting look, you might as well dance out.

this young lady merely a very clever actress she might Dangle. You will not easily persuade me that there is no credit or

draw crowds and create a sensation for a season, nay, importance in being at the head of a band of critics, who take upon perhaps she might even obtain the favourable suffrages of


The Critic.

the critics, and, after all, sink into that neglect wbich very

clever actresses have sometimes experienced. But this is Me Editor,—In my theatrical experience, which I not her character. She has already, by the mere force of confess to be rather limited, I have observed that the be- high intellectual endowments, attained a more elevated roes of the stage, like those of real life, form two distinct station than any of her contemporaries; but she has much classes, viz. those who have souls, and those who have to learn : she must learn much before she can take her place

Among the latter will frequently be found indi- by the side of the Mrs Siddons, and she will learn it all. viduals of respectable talents and considerable attain. Even now, she possesses all the essentials of greatness ments, who have risen to some eminence by patient in- but art must yet be called upon to contribute its share; dustry, by personal attractions, and a happy art of profit in many minor points, she is still unschooled, but she ing by accidental circumstances, and sometimes by the already betrays the possession of those noble powers which real merit of their performances, and a distinguished are beyond the reach of art. And, after all, her partial cleverness of execution ; but to the former class belong deficiency in these minor and easily-attainable graces exclusively the higher orders of intellect. In estimating seems to be the principal reason for that caution with Miss Fanny Kemble's merits as an actress, I think our which our critics have spoken of Miss Kemble. They Edinburgh critics have not sufficiently attended to this are, forsooth, afraid of committing themselves by ved



turing any decided opinion on the merits of a Bucephalus above communication makes to us, we hope he will allow till they have seen him exhibit his paces at Astley's! that we have to-dạy spoken out pretty decidedly. We Such conduct may be prudent, but it is not magnanimous were unwilling to do so before, lest it should be prema-it is not just; and even putting Miss Kemble's claims ture. In some things “ Ctesipbon " and we are at one. out of the question, it is not honourable to the critic him- We both think that Miss Kemble possesses genius, and self, nor fair towards the public. Crowded audiences of has a right to know that the eyes of the country are upon the best society in Edinburgh, including some of the most her, in the expectation that she will become a great ac. distinguished literary characters in Europe, have, night tress. But we do not think with “Ctesiphon,” that she alafter night, honoured this wonderful creature with their ready “towers above her contemporaries,” and is “ deci. presence, and still more, by their plaudits and their tears; dedly the allest actress on the stage.” Mrs Henry Sid. and yet, were I to hint that these have a right to expect dons and Miss Jarman are, in many respects, her equals that their sentiments should be echoed alond by the press, in tragedy; and Mrs Henry Siddons, Miss Jarman, Miss I suppose your critic would complain that I wished to Ellen Tree, and others, are much her superiors in cointerfere with his independence. Such is not my wish. medy. My quarrel with your contemporaries is not that they

Old Cerberus. think less highly of Miss Fanny Kemble's histrionic powers than I do; I know not exactly whether they do or not-or if they do, they may be right; at all events,

ORIGINAL POETRY. it need be no ground of quarrel between us. What I blame in them is, that they do not give us that full, dis. criminating, and decided opinion of her character which

TO JULIANA. the interest excited, even in our remote provincial towns,

For me! with regard to the merits of this young candidate for Dost thou kneel down and pray to God for me? theatrical honours, seems to call for. If they are honestly 0! then thou lov'st me! if thy thoughts do dwell of opinion that Miss Kemble does not possess the capacity | In heaven for one so little worthy thee, of a first-rate actress, let them say so at once ; if, again, Thou lov'st me more than thou dost care to tell, they think that her powers require only to be matured And I am happier than I hoped to be! by a little cultivation and experience, let them point out

Thrice happy! that each morn and eve there rise her faults and deficiencies; but, at the same time, let the

Thy gentle prayers to great Creation's throne ; public have a hint both of her present excellence, and of For if to thine no seraph's voice replies, what we have a right to expect in future from so highly To me there comes an echo of thine own. gifted a mind. Ingenious strictures on a questionable And in the gold of morn, and when the light emphasis, or petty sin against orthoepy, are somewhat

Falls grey and sober o'er the far-spread scene, mistimed at present, when the theatrical world is engaged I feel within my heart thy spirit's might, in deciding whether or not this new candidate for fame And half become what I have never been ; is entitled to assume at once the very highest place in her | More full of high resolves, and firmer faith, profession. Even your own “ CERDERUS," and my fa. And deeper trust in the eternal law Tourite “ Acris," have not done their duty in this case. That leads to life through the dark gates of death, It may, indeed must, be inferred from what they have

Where dwell the sights which holiest prophets saw. said, that they consider this young lady as belonging to And this it is to love that there doth glow a much higher order of intellect than the common run of Within my breast a spirit caught froin thee, heroines; still this is only to be inferred—they have not And at the hour that thy wing'd wishes go fairly spoken out; and I have no doubt that many who,

Up to the stars, there resteth tranquilly like myself, would be prepared to receive the decided

A deep devotion that surpasseth showopinion of these critics with respect, shrink with dissatis

A light, by thee call'd down from heaven, on me! faction from the task of analysing, balancing, and guess

H. G. B. ing at ambiguvus expressions. Perhaps Miss Kemble does not come up to some high standard of dramatic ex

ROBERT THE BRUCE. cellence which they may have formed in their own mind, and therefore they think themselves bound to qualify their

By William Wilson. praise; but this, though an intelligible, is a very unfair, He sat alone on a mossy cairn, canon of criticism. When does human exertion realise And leant on his bloody brand, ideal excellence? and even when we adopt a more ra While his look grew vengeful, dark, and stern, tional standard, and look back upon the triumphs of Sid

With thoughts of his injured land. dons and O'Neil, we must remember that they come to Where is the plaided warrior host, us mellowed by distance, and aggravated by the sweet

He marshall'd at morning tide? delusion which ever attends the retrospect of pleasures On the battle-field, with banner lost, which are lost to us for ever. Let us compare Miss

They are slumbering side by side! Kemble with her own contemporaries ; but here is no And he, like a hunted felon, flies room for comparison,-she towers above them all as To the hills of his native home, maeb in kind as in degree of merit : let us then judge In mountain shepherd's lowly guise, of her by herself—by what we hear, and see, and feel, Through the wilderness to roam. when the distress of Mrs Beverley, the girlish passion of Joliet, or the love-sick grief of Isabella, stands personi. « Oh, for the sword of the Wallace now, fied before us,-is she not a glorious creature- the very With its lightning flash of doom, child of genius? Jam nova progenies calo dimittilur When the battle flush was on his brow, alto," worthy of the highly-gifted family of Kemble. She And victory on his plume ! is eren now decidedly the ablest actress on the stage. When, like the tornado's wrathful sweep, She has already achieved more than ever actress did at her

He rush'd the deadly fray, age, and on so short probation; and we are fairly entitled While the foe fell round him, heap on heap, to expect that she will add another living name to the As the mower swathes the hay ; splendid trio, Pritchard, Siddons, and O'Neill.

And back, like frighten'd deer, they tled, Sir,


Each hurrying rank on rank,

As the stern avenger's angry blade In reference to the allusion which the author of the

Gleam'd red on rear and flank!

I am,

" Then rung fair Scotland's rousing hurra,

As she waved her bonnet blue, While o'er her warriors' thick array

Her proud lion banner flew; Then rose to heaven young Freedom's hymn,

Like the voice of a thousand waves, And echo caught the strain sublime,

And replied from all her caves. And the lion banner yet shall stream,

Uncheck'd from strand to strand, And the broad claymore 'mid victory gleam,

In each plaided hero's hand !

“ Then from her trance shall Freedom wake,

And ber trumpet call be blown,
Till haughty English Edward quake

On his lofty tyrant throne.
Shades of my fathers ! hear the vow

Of your true, though outcast, child,
As a vanquish'd, homeless, exile now,

He wanders the trackless wild; Till his land to freedom be restored,

And her bleeding wrongs avenged, Unsheath'd shall remain the Bruce's sword,

And his deadly hate unchanged !"

“ He writes such very lovely things,

I wish his name I knew;
He's young, they say, and very pale,

And melancholy, too!
Oh dear! I wonder if he has

A father and a mother,
Perhaps his early love is dead,

Or married to another !"
'Tis sweet, no doubt, to Poet's soul,

In tender hearts to raise
Desire to know why grief has cast

Its shadow o'er his lays;
Though Fortune smiles upon his path,

And earth and skies are glad, “ His hopes are crush’d,” “ his heart is sear'd," —

'Tis pretty to be sad ! I'm wearied, too, of rural strains

That tell of " streams and flowers," And little birds that “tune their songs"

In "groves” and “garden-bowers ;"
And lines about the “ sunset eve,"

And “ gold clouds in the west,”
And starry nights, when“ not a breath

Is rippling ocean's breast."
I'm tired of hearing, when they gaze

Upon the moon and skies,
That minstrel bosoms often feel

Some tender thoughts arise-
Of childhood's home “across the sea,"

Or friends “ that they have lost,"
Or « dreams of bliss" that “ youth had nurst,"

But age has “rudely cross'd."
As if, forsooth, their hair was grey,

And years had made them blind,
When all the time they're gay and young,

With hearts like summer wind :-
In truth, ye willow-wearing bards,

Your band I will not join ;
Unless new thoughts should chance to rise,
I'll never write a line !



By James P. Brown. When the voice of the minstrel is mute,

And the hand that brought melody forth From the simply-strung lyre, or the lover's soft lute, Lies cold in the bosom of earth

Will ye think of the minstrel then ?

When the songs that he waken’d are sung

To the sweetly-sad strains that he loved When his harp, o'er his grave, on a dark cypress hung, By the spirit of music is moved

Will ye think of the minstrel then?

When the flowers, in their rich summer bloom,

Woo the gladsome sunbeams for a kiss, While their odours are cast on the air round his tomb As balm from the islands of Bliss

Will ye think of the minstrel then ?


Will ye sigh when ye know he is gone

Will ye give to his memory a tear? If his songs in your hearts have awaken'd a tone Which love and remembrance hold dear

Will ye think of the minstrel then ? Aberdeen, May, 1830.


I'll never spin a line again,

Unless I chance to find
Some new and rather striking thought

Arise within my mind;
For though I can at times compose

A stanza in a minute,
The thing may have a sweetish sound,

But then there's nothing in it!

The Cabinet Album, in a handsome volume, (containing pieres selected from the popular fugitive literature of the day, is nearly ready.

A work, entitled Norrington, or the Memoirs of a Peer, is in the press.

Dr Nares' laborious and useful undertaking, a Life of Lord Burghley, the first volume of which was published in 1828, is now completed.

Mr Britton has announced a Dictionary of the Architecture of the Middle Ages, including the words used by old and modern authors, in treating of Architectural and other Antiquities.

Among other novelties announced for immediate publication are the following :-1. Southennan, a novel, by John Galt, Esq. the author of “ Lawrie Todd, or the Settlers in the Woods," &c.-2. Travels to the Seat of War in the East, through Russia and the Crimea in 1829, with Sketches of the Imperial Fleet and Army, &c. by J. E. Alexander, K. L.S., 16th Lancers, M.R.A.S. &c.-3. The Turf, a Satirical Novel, 2 vols.-4. The Revolt of the Angels, by the author of " Cain the Wanderer," &c.-An octavo edition, consider. ably improved, with numerous illustrations, of Travels in Sicily, Greece, and Albania, by the Rev. T. S. Hughes, B.D. of Emmanuel College, Cambridge. And, 6. Clarence, a Tale of our Own Times, 5 vols.

Ngw MEZZOTINTO STYLE OF DRAWING. We have examined : number of very beautiful drawings executed by Mr and Mrs Cruikshank, exhibiting the Mezzotinto style which has recently been irtroduced into this city by these ingenious artists. One characteristie feature of this style of drawing, is its remarkable softness, which, in sea-pieces and landscape designs, has a more pleasing effect than the pencil alone could accomplish. We recommend this accomplishment to the attention of those of our freaders who patronise the Fine Arts; and we may add, that we are given to understand it may be learned with great facility.

I'm tired of endless mournful songs

About the “ ills of life," And “ broken hearts,” and “early death,”

And “ this world's gloom and strife ;" I vow 'tis affectation all,

The worst that e'er was heard ! And only meant to conjure up

An interest in the bard.

He was

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The ETTRICK SHEPHERD versus TYTLRR AND THE QUARTERLY ing to his father's wish, at Gottingen, but at the same time was much Reviewers.—The Ettrick Shepherd wonders how his esteemed occupied in investigating the history of ancient German art and litefriend, Peter Tytler, or rather, perhaps, the Quarterly Reviewer,

rature. On leaving Gottingen, he resided for some time in his native should have explained the fine ancient verse on the death of Alexan- place, without being able to get a living as a minister, which may der the Third so incorrectly :-Lè or lee, in lyrical phrase, is not law, perhaps be attributed to his possessing too open and downright a but affection returned; sonce, is from soncy, cheerful, good-humoured; character. It was about this time that he published his " Sagen der and unsoncy, ill-natured, dangerous ; sonce of ale and bread there

Vorzeit," (Tales of the Olden Time,) and produced by his work the fore means, the good cheer of ale and bread. Wax should have been

same effect on novel writing which Goethe, b Ahis “ Goetz," did on waiks, a Scottish term for night revels or merry-makings till this

the drama. We may safely say, that the deluge of romances of chiday. Stad does not simply mean placed, but stabied, tied up in a

valry which has since overflowed Germany, has its origin in these stall of perplexity, sta'd--The lines, thus explained, will read as fol

tales. Waechter was intimately acquainted with the spirit of Gerlows:

man antiquity, and an enthusiastic love of his country pervades all

his productions. The first three volumes, however, of his “ Sagen When Alexander our King was dead,

der Vorzeit," are by far to be preferred to those which appeared Who Scotland led in love and lee,

later. Waechter, forsaking the clerical profession, entered (about Away was sonce of ale and bread,

1793) a Hanoverian regiment, and made several campaigns against Of wine and waiks, of game and glee.

the French, in which he greatly distinguished himself. Our gold is turned into lead ;

wounded near Mayence. On his return to Hamburg he established, Christ born into virginitye,

in conjunction with Professor Voigt, a boarding institution, which Succour poor Scotland with remeid,

he afterwards carried on with great reputation by himself, as Voigt That sta'd is in perplexity.

accepted an invitation to go to Riga. In the last war against Napoleon, Waechter was again among the defenders of Hamburg, and again gave many proofs of disinterestedness and presence of minde

It may also be mentioned that he wrote a drama called " Wilhelm His house was sta'd, his bed was made,

Tell," which was published before Schiller's play. The characters His sheits were spread in luve and lee.

in it are well drawn, though on the whole it is inferior to the celeGREEXSHIELD'S JOLLY BEGGARS.-This collection of Statues is brated drama of the same name by Schiller. I know not whether now exhibiting in Edinburgh. We have seen them, and shall give he is still alive. an impartial opinion concerning them next week. They are eight

I may perhaps shortly furnish you with some account of the oriin number, representing the ballad-singer and his two Deborahs, the gin and history of the tribunal called “ das Vehmgericht," or “ die Caird, Tinker, and the fair Helen for whom they contend, and the heilige Vehme," which forms the chief subject of Sir Walter's traold Soldier and his doxy.

gedy. For those who will not find the word “ Vehme" in their dic. The Scottish ACADEMY. We regret to observe that some in- tionaries, I may observe that this word is derived from the old Saxon judicious individuals are still wrangling about this Institution. We word " vervehmen," which means, to curse, to outlaw, to banish; said some time ago that we thought the late differences among the “ das Vehmgericht” means, therefore, a tribunal which had the right Academicians too much of a personal nature to be brought; before to outlaw. I am, sir, your obedient servant, the public. We think so still. The matter regards the internal re

Theatrical Gossip.There positively does not appear to be a single gulations of that body; and discussions of this kind do not seem to

word of Theatrical gossip stirring. The London Theatres are oc. us particularly calculated to diffuse either a knowledge or a taste for cupied principally with their Christmas Pantomimes, and we hear of art. We abandoned the subject to those who take a peculiar interest nothing wonderful that is going on in the provinces.-- The Edinburgh in angry controversy, and, whatever blunders they may make, we

Theatrical Fund Dinner, fixed for the 29th inst., is to be held in the still incline to leave it in their hands.

Assembly Rooms.
SCIENCE.—This publication, the commencement of which we no-

ticed some time ago, has now reached its Fourth Number, and we
are happy to have it in our power to state, that we think there is a

Dec. 26, 1829-Jan. 1, 1830. progressive improvement risible in each. In No. IV. there is a com

SAT. The House of Aspen, of The Maid and the Magpie. munication from the pen of the able ornithologist, Sir William Jar

Mon. Do. # The Youthful Queen. dine, together with several spiritedly written reviews. With the se

Tuss. The Soldier's Daughter, & The Twelfth Cake. vere castigation, however, bestowed upon Mr Hugh Murray's work


The Jealous Wife, & Do. on America, we cannot agree; and in referenee to the paper on the

THURS. Edinburgh College Museum, we take this opportunity of slating,

The Soldier's Daughter, 4 Do. that it is our intention to offer, shortly, a few remarks of our own


The Bride of Lammermoor, 4 Do. upon that subject.

AN ACROSTIC.-—The following lines were written on the occasion of the Catholic Emancipation, by W. Ainslie, M.D. :

TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS. “ Venite exultemus,omnes gentes plaudite!" Down, down with fell discord-come, hail the glad voice!

Notices of several new works are unavoidably postponed. Among Lrged sweetly along by the soft summer gale

these is a review of Bower's third volume of the History of the UniKindred millions arise !--and devoutly rejoice,

versity, the concluding sheets of which reached us too late for this England tells you, at length, the so long-look'd for tale.

week ;-also the late Mr Balfour's “Weeds and Wildflowers." Offended no more, lo ! c'en justice forgets,

“ The Picture Gallery” shall have a place in an early Number. Forgets ! ay! and pardons your shrines basely slighted;

" Fiction v. Truth” will appear as soon as we can find room.-Woes, wailings, and wrongs, and most poignant regrets,

“ Christmas, Psalms, and Sects," and the “ Lines written on Arthur E vanish! the moment her balance is righted ;

Seat,” though both possessing merit, will not exactly suit us.L et us all with one heart then, our sorrows thus ended,

· Astolpho's" female epistle hath not found the same favour in our Love, honour, and cherish, the fair Sister Isle,

eyes as his former communication.-" Proteus” is informed, that noIn such union alone, well assured there come blended

thing but the intrinsic merits of any article sent us by an anonymous No feelings that tlow not, enrich'd with a smile.

Correspondent could secure its insertion in our pages." Fife AnGreat Grace to the Monarch whose wisdom has waved,

swers" will not suit us.-To our fair Correspondent who signs her. To heal every wound, his prerogative right:

self “ A True Friend," we shall address a note in a day or two. Oh! laud be to him, too, whose arm boldly braved,

The verses by "J. M.," and by " Z. Y. X.” shall have a place.Xay, hurld the proud Chief from his arrogant height.

We have received “A Welcome to Winter,"_" Lines on the Ruins

of the Parthenon on the Calton Hill," and “Stanzas on the Last LETTER CONCERNING SIR WALTER SCOTT'S TRAGEDY OF

Sunset of 1829." THE HOUSE OF ASPEN."

We observe it is stated in several provincial papers, that the verses To the Editor of the Literary Journal.

we published some time ago, written by Burns when about to leave Sir,-Having read in Sir Walter Scott's Preface to his new Trage Scotland, had appeared in print before. We believe this to be the dy of " The House of Aspen," that the worthy Baronet regretted his

case, but of course were not aware of the fact at the time. having not been able to learn the real name and situation of “ Veit

We beg to inform our readers in Aberdeen, that the delay which Weber,” from whose works the tragedy is taken, it may, perhaps, has once or twice taken place in the delivery of the Journal there, is mot be uninteresting to your readers if I furnish them with some in

to be attributed to our Aberdeen parcel, which is dispatched per mail Formation respecting that author. The real name of Veit Weber is every Friday afternoon,' having been once or twice left by mistake Ludwig Leonhardt Waechter. He was born about 1762, and recei- at Perth. We hope a similar mistake will not occur again. When ved his first education from his father, then a minister of the church “A Subscriber " writes to us again from Aberdeen, we shall take the of St Michael in Hamburg, He afterwards studied theology, accord. liberty of returning his letter unopened, unless the postage be paid.

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