eight feet six inches. It then proceeds to the second lock at Knop, 745 poles, distant from Kieler-Ford, which has a rise of eight feet six inches, and then continues to near Suensdorf, where the third lock is situated, having a rise of the same height, Here the upper canal begins, and proceeds for the distance of 2413 poles, between Schwartenbec and Wittenbec, to the fourth lock at the Upper Eyder near Schinkel. This upper canal, which serves as a reservoir, has an influx of water from the neighbouring lakes sufficient for the purposes of navigation, and is twenty-five feet six inches higher than the level of the Baltic. At the fourth lock the canal falls seven feet four inches two lines; proceeds 1438 poles in the Eyder to the fifth lock at Nedderholten, where there is also a fall of the same height; and, having continued by Seestede to Steinwarp, 2901 poles, little more art is employed, because the Eyder between that place and Rendsburg has almost naturally the sufficient depth and breadth. A sixth lock is constructed at Rendsburg, as the tide flows up there in the Eyder, and makes, with the ebb, a difference of one foot seven inches. The breadth of this canal, at the bottom, is fifty-four feet, and, at the surface of the water, ninety feet. It is nine feet deep, and navigable for ships of from 150 to 160 tons burthen. The locks, therefore, between the gates, are 100 feet in length and 27 feet in breadth. Along the banks there is a path ten feet broad, and another of twelve feet, for the horses which are employed to draw the vessels. The number of vessels which passed through this canal, in 1797, amounted to 2105, of which 1393 were laden with merchandize, and the rest in ballast. P. M.

nons residentiary of Exeter cathedral, and rector of Shobroke, near Crediton, and which was all the preferment he ever had. He was chief mourner at Sir Thomas's funeral; and the following day was actually created D.D. as a member of Christ-church.

Josias was the youngest brother of Sir Thomas, and probably born at Exeter; had spent some time at Merton-college, Oxford; but soon after entered a military life, and began his career in the Low Countries, where he behaved so well that he was advanced to the degree of a captain. In 1598 he was sent to Ireland with several old companies of English, about one thousand men, from the Netherlands, of which he was 2d captain; signalised himself at the siege of Kinsale in 1601, where he was overseer of the trenches, as he was also at the sieges of Baltimore, Castlehaven, &c.; was knighted by Lord-deputy Chichester, and was living in Ireland in 1613.

When they died is not known; nor are we informed of their having been married, nor consequently if they have any descendants.

June 15, 1815.

BIBLIOPHILE.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

DATE my letter again from Hunt

Number, wishes to know the names, &c. of the brothers of Sir Thomas Bodley, who was born in 1544 at Exeter. I shall feel particularly happy if the following extract from the Biographia Britannica should be of any service to him, or be conducive of giving him the information he may require.

Sir Thomas Bodley had two brothers, named Laurence and Josias.

Laurence, a younger brother of Sir Thomas, was born at Exeter in 1546; after a suitable education, he was sent to Christ-church College, Oxford, where he took the degrees of bachelor and master of arts; afterwards made one of the ca

fury,

fury, called the How, terminates this singular hill to the west.

On the north side of Brean-down flows the river Axe, whose course has been for some miles deepened and widened, to drain the country about Cheddar and its neighbourhood more effectually, which it now does. To the north-east we have a distinct view of Weston-supra-Mare, lately become a fashionable wateringplace for the inhabitants of Bristol, who do not choose more expensive excursions. Directly east is Uphill, now also much frequented; but Weston must be, assuredly, the preferable place. There is now at Weston a good hotel, with excellent accommodation. Had not the river Axe intervened, we should most likely have paid it a visit.

I did not forget to herborise even on Brean-down. Thymus serpyllum, or wild thyme, grows here in great plenty; the statice of Linnæus, or sea lavender, grows also here within reach of the spray of the sea; and crithmum maritimum, or samphire, the gathering of which, as Shakspeare says, is

"A dreadful trade !"

and dreadful to gather must it be: for its constant habitation here is on the almost perpendicular rocks, from ten to twenty feet above high-water mark.

We observed a vast quantity of conical shell-fish on the rocks of the How: they are commonly called limpets, by naturalists patellæ.

་

After spending nearly the whole of the day on this hill and around it, we proceeded on our return. The tide was now rising rapidly, and we drove our gig even among the breakers, now not amazingly terrific, the winds being moderate and the sands smooth.

We observed from the Down a number of circular hedges, stretching along the shore for nearly the whole distance which we had come this morning: they are for the purpose of catching salmon. The distance of the diameter of each is, I presume, about half a mile; and, as both sides are considerably higher up on the shore than any other part, and as the hedge is lowest in the middle, the uniform perpendicular height of which is about five feet, and the stakes composing the hedge are placed sufficiently near to each other to prevent the escape of the salmon, it is easy to conceive that, when the tide recedes from the sides, and the tops of the stakes in the middle are just uncovered by the water, every salmon within the stakes must be caught: and that numbers are so caught is evident, or

it would not pay persons to take the fishery at a large rent, and keep the stake-hangs (for this is the name given to them by the fishermen) in repair. Notwithstanding these extensive apparatus for the catching of salmon, as well as many other means adopted in the neighbouring river Parret, we found salmon dear even here: it is now 13d. or 14d. per pound, and the season has been, I understand, uncommonly good; last year, we were told, it was scarcely under 18d. The contiguity of Bristol, Bridgewater, and Taunton, contributes, no doubt, to keep up the price.

The greater part of the sands were covered by the tide as we passed along, although not at all to obstruct our way. We returned leisurely, enjoying the roaring of the waves and the western breezes; and, as we passed through Burnham, where is erected a commodious lighthouse for the safety of vessels which enter the river Parret for Bridgewater, we took a peep at a school lately established there, not exactly upon the Lancasterian or Bellite plans, but adopting such an admixture of both so as to combine their advantages. The children were not there, but, from what we heard concerning it, there is reason to hope that it will some day become efficient for the purposes for which it is established; and thereby convince the prejudiced of the advantages which must result from a well-informed and orderly population.

We now came on to High-bridge, where is a tolerably good inn. One of the most striking alterations in this part of the country, in the last twenty years, is the deepening and widening the river Brue, which empties itself into the river Parret, about a mile below High-bridge to the west. But one of the most stupid. contrivances in this expensive work is that, instead of opening the river to the daily flux and reflux of the tide, and throwing a one-arched iron bridge over it here, to permit vessels or barges to pass with their cargoes to Glastonbury or Wells, by simply lowering their masts, they have erected a dam or clize, whereby the navigation of the river Brue is nearly, if not completely, destroyed! As far, however, as the draining of the country was concerned, the object has been effectually accomplished, and the landholders are now reaping the benefits of their speculation. The health too of the inhabitants is much improved; and the ague, which used to be common in this country, is now comparatively rare. I forgot to mention the lofty sand

hills

hills which we passed on the right between Burnham and Brean-down, and which have been all formed, most unquestionably, by the constant accumulation of sand for ages, which has been blown up by the westerly winds, to which the flat shore lics completely exposed. Upon these sand-hills, as well as on Brean-down, abound numbers of rabbits; and also a species of agrostis, or bent, called here sedge by the common people. A variety of useful things are made here from the long stalks of the agrostis, but I know nothing for which it is so well calculated as tablemats; of these it forms the neatest and most durable which I have seen, cane excepted. I do not think, however, that the use of it, in manufactures, is pushed by any means so far as it appears eligible and desirable that it should be: I make no question but bonnets for ladies, and light summer hats for gentlemen, might be formed from it of superior quality to straw. But the poor are prohibited from cutting it without permission, as its presence is essentially necessary in the sand, where it is occasionally planted to prevent the sand being blown away by the strong westerly winds; and for which its long roots are admirably adapted. Such precaution is, on the sea-shore here, sometimes necessary, in order to prevent the sea from overflowing the contiguous lands.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

I

SIR,

ENTIRELY sympathize with the zeal of your correspondent W. N.* that not one particle of Shakspeare, the prince of dramatic poets, and the glory of the English nation, should be lost. Rather than incur so great a risk, it would be better, surely, to retain what is doubtful. It is with the greatest justice, then, that certain commentators are censured for their temerity in presuming to reject such valuable compositions as the three parts of Henry VI.; and I may also add Pericles, Titus Andronicus, and

Sir John Oldcastle, on hardly any other grounds than that, in their opinion, they are not worthy of Shakspeare. Shakspeare is a very unequal writer, and, were we to reject all that is not worthy of his transcendent genius, we would expunge the half of his works; in particular, we would be obliged to pronounce his own

See, in Monthly Mag. for May, Observations on the Authenticity of the Three Parts of Henry VI.

poems and sonnets not to have been written by him.

But, if the commentators should be charged with culpable attempts to diminish the writings of Shakspeare, they are not scrupulous, it must be allowed, in attaching to them a profusion of their own bulky excrescences. I do not wish to speak with disrespect of their learned labors; but, it does not appear to me reasonable or just, that two preliminary volumes, in prose and verse, by various writers, the greatest part of which are altogether useless, should be preserved and perpetuated; while several plays, which, perhaps, were wholly written by Shakspeare, at any rate are allowed to possess marks of his pen; and his genuine productions, the poems and sonnets; be consigned to neglect and oblivion. That such may be their fate is not improbable, if I may judge from my own knowledge and experience of the matter. I have made enquiry after them, in various quarters, but hitherto in vain. In my opinion, it would be conferring a great favour on the public, if the one-half of the prefatory mass were dismissed or abridged, and in its place were inserted the apocryphal plays, with the undoubted compositions of our great poet, his pooms and sonnets. R. IMRIE.

Kinkell, May 15.

misery, that it has a contrary disposition, and delights in mercy. On the contrary, it is the coward who is cruel! That scenes of cruelty have a tendency to render men unfeeling, I allow; but courage, and want of feeling are by no means synonymous, and for this reason every thing of this kind ought to be suppressed, and particularly the present detestable plan of boxing. That two wretches (I will not call them men, as they disgrace human nature,) should challenge each other for a sum of money, to see which can bear the most disgraceful abuse, or can longest inflict it upon the other; is a scene of the most despicable infamy, and surely ought to be put a stop to.

But, what I have now more particularly in view, is the shameful practice of duelling, by which many lives have been sacrificed to what is falsely called principles of honor. When duels have terminated fatally to one of the parties, and the matter has been enquired into by a coroner's inquest, the jury have generally brought in a verdict of wilful murder against the survivor: but, when the person has been tried upon this indictment at an assize, for murder, those juries have as uniformly given a verdict of manslaughter. I shall not attempt to give any reason why two different juries, called to judge of the same fact, should give such different verdicts; but, as we hear of persons killed in duels, and that in consequence of a challenge previously given, to meet with murderous weapons, and evidently designing to kill each other; and, if one kills the other, the survivor escapes, at least, capital punishment, I have often wondered what kind of evidence was produced upon the trial (for I never was present at such a trial) that could convince a Jury that there was no malice prepense in a matter of this kind, attended with these circumstances, when a coroner's inquest, who had viewed the body, and heard the matter immediately after the fact, should pronounce it murder. If, then, as the law stands, (for I conclude that these verdicts, given upon oath, arc according to law,) it is so difficult to convict persons of murder who kill others in duels, is there no other way of inflicting punishment upon duellists?Permit me to suggest the following, viz. That every person who gives a challenge to another, should be liable to a penalty of one thousand pounds; every person who accepts a challenge be also liable

to the same penalty; every person who acts as second to either of the parties, be liable to a penalty of five hundred pounds; and every surgeon attending a duel, or who, having notice of it, is in readiness to attend if wanted, be liable to the like penalty. Now, as persons who fight duels have not the fear of God before their eyes, probably the fear of a heavy penalty might have some effect; and I think every means should be tried to put a stop to so infamous a practice. If challenges were only given by one miscreant to another of the same stamp, there might not be so much evil attending them; for, if one of them fell, it might rid the world of some pest to society: but it may happen, that, from the most infamous motives, some wretch may send a challenge to some highly respectable, useful, and virtuous character, who, being too much swayed by fashion and custom, or what is falsely called the laws of honor, may not have courage enough to refuse to comply with such an infamous practice; and thus, the life of a most valuable member of society may be put into danger, and possibly cut off, by one of the most infamous. I beg to observe further, that I would not wish any of the laws against duelling repealed; but, as there are duels fought where neither parties are wounded, or not mortally, so that they are not liable to be tried for murder, I would have the above penalties inflicted in all cases where the party escapes capital punishment. J. K. Liverpool; 11th May, 1815.

For the Monthly Magazine. OBSERVATIONS on the GRECIAN TRAGIC

10.

DRAMA.

[PHIGENIA in AULIS.-This tragedy may be considered as the most celebrated of all the productions of Euripides; and the subject is such as is calculated to excite a very deep interest. Yet it must be confessed, that, horrid as would have been the actual sacrifice of Iphigenia, the catas trophe disappoints the expectation, and creates an emotion too nearly allied to the ludicrous. The substitution of a hind, though of milk-white hue and the fairest form, for the virgin princess, by the deity, whose awful anger, we are led to believe, that nothing less than the blood of the innocent and beautiful daughter of Agamemnon could appease, is an incident deficient in practical congruity, and, in the relation of it, imperial

tragedy

tragedy almost assumes the tone of a burletta. The defect in the fable is irremediable. If the sacrifice takes place, the catastrophe is shocking; if not, it ecases to be even tragical.

The Grecian theatre, so far as we are competent to judge from the admirable remains of it, seems by no means to have indulged in so extensive a range of action as the modern stages of London and Paris, which select interesting ineidents from common life, and the fates and fortunes of private individuals, as proper subjects of tragedy. Whereas, the Grecian drama treated only of high and lofty events; and, if the fable ever involved in it the misfortunes of an individual unconnected with the public weal, they were ennobled by the rank and celebrity of the sufferer, as in the instances of Alcestis and Medea. This appears not merely from the thirty-three entire tragedies now extant of the great masters of the ancient drama, but the scattered fragments of many others known almost wholly by name, and which, to use the happy simile of Dryden, we regard with the same emotion as a merchant who peruses the invoice of a vessel wrecked on its voyage.'

66

The Greek poets lived in an early age of the world. Few events of historic importance, connected with civilized life, Irad as yet taken place; but with these few the public mind in Greece was powerfully impressed. The Athenians were never wearied with hearing of the conquest of Troy, and the adventures of those illustrious personages who contributed to that catastrophe; of the calamities which had befallen the two great houses of Cadmus and Tantalus; of the Argonautic expedition; and of the incidents interwoven with their intricate system of mythology; such as the labours of Hercules, the exploits of Bacchus, the rebellion of the Titans, the punishment of Prometheus, the judgment of Paris, and the death of Adonis. Of the remaining tragedies of the Greeks, ten relate to the Trojan war, or to those occurrences which sprang immediately from it; six to the misfortunes of the race of Cadmus; and as many to those of "Pelops' line." The rest are founded almost entirely on mythological stories; and one drama only, "the Persians," of Eschylus, is built upon a recent and perfectly authentic, as well as glorious, event-the defeat of the immense armament of Xerxes, at Salamis.

The character and conduct of Clytem

nestra in this tragedy, high-spirited, imperious, violent, and vindictive, form a just prelude to their farther development in the dramas which exhibit the return of Agamemnon in triumph from the siege of Troy, with its fatal and horrid consequences. The fine description of this unfortunate monarch, in the last scene, was probably present to the mind of Timanthes when engaged in painting his celebrated picture.—

"But Agamemnon, soon as he beheld The virgin at the sacred grove arrive Where she was doom'd to bleed, groan'd His head aside; then wept, and veil'd his deeply; turn'd

eyes

Beneath his robe."

There is a passage in one of the choral odes, which,in common with many others, strikingly manifests the contempt entertained by Euripides, and doubtless by all other men of sense and reflection, for the preposterous fictions connected with the heathen mythology, without, however, perhaps, calling in question the general truth of the system itself; as intelligent Catholics of the present day laugh at the lying legends of the saints, though still adhering to the ancient and orthodox faith. In allusion to the supposed descent of Helen from Jupiter, and the fable of his amour with Leda, the chorus suddenly changing its tone, exclaims

"Or, haply the fantastic Mnse From whom these amorous tales began, Such shameful legend forged with impious

views

T'impose on the credulity of man." These, however, were bold words to hazard before an Athenian audience. An Italian preacher, who should, even in these times, express his contempt with as little reserve at Genoa or Milan, of St. Antony and the fishes, or at Naples of the miracle of St. Januarius, would certainly have less reason to confide in the liberality and good sense of his hearers.

11. RHESUS.-This drama is borrowed from the well-known episode of the same name in the Iliad. Though not devoid of interest, it has no pretension to be ranked among the higher produc tions of the bard of Pella. There is a remarkable coincidence between the expostulation addressed by Eneas to Hector in this play, and that of Maherbal to Hannibal subsequent to the victory at Cannæ, as recorded by Livy; and it is difficult to avoid suspecting that the historian was indebted to the poet for