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The practice of wearing black patches on various parts of the face is amusingly ridiculed in several papers, and its application to party politics satirized in the 81st number.

The affectation of a male costume by ladies for riding suits is repeatedly noticed and censured by the Spectator. In No. 104 is a description of a lady in a coat and waistcoat of blue camlet, trimmed and embroidered with silver, with a petticoat of the same stuff by which alone her sex was recognized, as she wore a smartly cocked beaver hat edged with silver, and rendered more sprightly by a feather; and her hair, curled and powdered, hung to a considerable length down her shoulders, tied like that of a rakish young gentleman's, with a long streaming scarlet riband. They also assumed the male periwig on those occasions, in addition to the coat, hat, and feather. An exceedingly little muff was in fashion in 1710-11, and a black silk mantua is mentioned in the pleasant story of Brunetta and Phillis, No. 80.

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THE REIGNS OF GEORGE I. (1714-27), and GEOPGE II. (1727-60)

boast of Hogarth for their illustrator, and introduce small frilled or puff caps, loose gowns called sacques, and cloaks with hoods, termed cardinals. The hoop maintained its post, though it frequently changed its fashion. In 1735, we perceive it projecting all round like the wheel fardingale; the petticoat short and the gown without a train. In 1745 the hoop has increased at the sides and diminished in front, and a pamphlet was published in that year, entitled 'The enormous abomination of the Hoop-petticoat, as the fashion now is.' Ten years later, it is scarcely discernible in some figures, and in 1757 it re-appears, expanding, right and left, into the shape which the court dress of George III's reign has rendered familiar to us.

In 1735 we find the heads still low and covered by

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small frilled caps, and flat gipsy-looking straw hats of moderate dimensions. In 1745-6 the caps are still smaller, but the hats larger; and a little bonnet tied under the chin appears almost of the last modern fashion. Aprons had become part of the dress of a fashionable belle during the early part of this century, and in 1744 they reached the ground. They were next shortened, and lengthened again before 1752, as a lady is made to exclaim in the Gray's Inn Journal, No. 7, that short aprons are coming into fashion again." In the same year we find a successor to the hood in the capuchin or a new name for the old head covering. "Mr. Needlework, bid John come round with the coach to the door, and bring me my fan, gloves and capuchin in an instant,." And in the eighth number of the same work is an advertisement of the sale by auction of "the whole stock of a coquette leaving off trade, consisting of several valuable curiosities, &c.," amongst which are mentioned a transparent capuchin," "an elegant snuff-box with a looking glass within it, being a very good pocket companion for a beauty," directions for painting and the use of cosmetics, and "the secret of putting on patches in an artful manner, shewing the effect of their different arrangement, with instructions how to place them about the eye in such a manner as to give disdain, an amorous languish, or a cunning glance; translated from the French."

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With regard to ornaments, the watch and etui adorned the waist; the jewelled necklace sparkled on the bosom, and bracelets were worn over the long gloves. Shortly after the accession of

GEORGE III. A. D. 1760,

a necklace composed of several rows of gold chains, beads, or jewels, the first close round the throat, and the others falling in festoons one under the other, so as to cover the whole neck, was highly fashionable, and called " an esclavage," from the collar and chains with which the wearer seemed laden. In 1772, the print called a Maccaroni Courtship, exhibits the same ridiculous toupee and curls by which the gentleman's head-dress of the same day was made hideous. A pretty cap, called the wing or fly-cap, and resembling one still worn in Holland, concealed in some instances the deformity of the hair, revealing only the club in which it was worn behind: the cap was again surmounted by a bonnet laden with bows and bunches of ribands, and the gown was tucked up behind as country girls frequently wear it at this day. The maccaroni head-dress was followed by those mountains of curls, powder, flowers, and feathers, which rose "alp above alp" upon the foreheads of our stately grandmammas, fulfilling the prophetic fears of Addison, and which, notwithstanding every body wore them, were as much laughed at and caricatured then as they would be at present. Several prints published in the years 1776-7, represent those head-dresses composed, like the figures in some of our recent pantomimes, constructed by the clown from the contents of the nearest green grocer or butterman. In one called 'the Green Stall,' the long side curls are imitated by carrots similarly disposed, and in another the slanting summit of the mountain is laid out as in a parterre, and a gardener is seen at work in it! The 'Maiden Aunt,' published July 4, 1776, exhibits a paroquet perched upon the powdered precipice, and completing with its wings and tail the ludicrous effect the picture. In 1778 and 1783 we still meet with

In

varieties of this fashion, which certainly is not ex-
ceeded in absurdity and ugliness by the horned and
heart-shaped dresses of the fifteenth century.
1783, a change appears to have taken place, and a
flat-crowned, broad-brimmed straw or silk hat, sur-
rounded with ribands, is worn upon the hair, which
lowered atop, bulges out at the sides like a bishop
wig profusely powdered, while two or three immense
curls fall from beneath it upon the shoulders. In
1786-9, an improvement appears, which a modern
writer attributes, in a great measure, to the taste of
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Angelica Kauffman, Hopner,
and the other painters of that day. The hair was
worn full and flowing, we may almost say dishevelled;
but powder maintained its ground till 1793, when it
was discarded by Her Majesty Queen Charlotte and
the Princesses, and at length disappeared, we trust
for ever, from the toilets of a British beauty. Ladies
wore white stockings even in mourning, as late as the
year 78. Mrs. Damer, the eccentric and celebrated
sculptor, is said to have been the first female who
wore black stockings in England; which circumstance,
combined with other peculiar habits, obtained for her
the epithet of "Epicinean" in the newspaper epigrams
of the day. Though the large hoop was, towards the
close of the eighteenth century, only worn at court
or in full dress, the pocket-hoop is ridiculed in 1780
by a print in which a girl so attired is placed beside a
donkey laden with a pair of panniers. For the aboli-
tion of the court-hoop, we are indebted to the taste
of George IV. The other excrescence lingered in
fashion more or less till the French revolution in 89,
which affected the female as powerfully as the male
costume of Europe. Fashion, ever in extremes,
rushed from high-peaked stays and figured satins,
yard-long waists and hooped petticoats, into the
lightest and slightest products of the loom, which
clung round the form, whether graceful or ungainly,
and were girdled absolutely under the armpits. Let
those who have laughed at the habits of our ancestors
-let the Lady Patroness of Almack's who would
start back with horror at the idea of figuring in the
wimple and gorget of the thirteenth, or the coat-
hardie and monstrous head-dresses of the fourteenth,
fifteenth, and even eighteenth century, peep into a
lady's pocket-book or fashionable magazine, of which
the cover is scarcely old-let her recal by such a
glance the costume in which she paraded Bond-street
and the park, as lately as 1815, or 20, (remembering
at the same time that the fashions of the reign of
Rufus or Henry V., have been rudely copied by
monkish illuminators ignorant of the first principles
of design, and their natural deformities made still
more hideous by a total absence of taste and skill in
the delineator, while those of the reigns of George III.
and IV. have been displayed by creditable and even
first-rate artists to the best advantage,) and then
favour us with her honest opinion of the difference
between the periods in ugliness and absurdity.

THE WEEK.

From Wednesday the 23rd, to Tuesday the 29th of July.

A HOT DAY.

We have been reminded, in making extracts from
other authors, that it might be taking no unreason-
able or immodest advantage of our position to make
one occasionally from writings of our own, especially
as it might be of service to other publications, and
the readers of the London Journal far outnumber any
that may be supposed to possess the books from
which we should quote. We should of course make
no extracts that were not designated as such, and
those who do possess the books will pardon us for
old acquaintance sake, and because it is a conveni-
The following passage is from the second
edition of the "Indicator and Companion," lately
published by Mr. Colburn.

ence to us.

:

A "NOW."

Descriptive of a Hot Day.

Now the rosy- (and lazy-) fingered Aurora, issuing from her saffron house, calls up the moist vapours to surround her, and goes veiled with them as long as she can till Phoebus, coming forth in his power, looks every thing out of the sky, and holds sharp uninterrupted empire from his throne of beams. Now the mower begins to make his sweeping cuts more slowly, and resorts oftener to the beer. Now the carter sleeps a-top of his load of hay, or plods with double slouch of shoulder, looking out with eyes winking under his shading hat, and with a hitch upwards on one side of his mouth. Now the little girl at her grandmother's door watches the coaches that go by, with her hand held up over her sunny forehead. Now the labourers look well resting in their white shirts at the door of rural ale-houses. Now an elm is fine there, with a seat under it; and horses drink out of the trough, stretching their yearning necks with loosened collars; and the traveller calls for his glass of ale having been without one for more than ten minutes; and his horse stands wincing at

the flies, giving sharp shivers of his skin, and moving to and fro his ineffectual docked tail; and now Miss Betty Wilson, the host's daughter, comes streaming forth in a flowered gown and ear-rings, carrying with four of her beautiful fingers the foaming glass, for which, after the traveller has drank it, she receives with an indifferent eye, looking another way, the lawful two-pence. Now grasshoppers "fry," as Dryden says. Now cattle stand in water, and ducks are envied. Now boots and shoes, and trees by the road. side are thick with dust; and dogs, rolling in it, after issuing out of the water, into which they have been thrown to fetch sticks, come scattering horror among the legs of the spectators. Now a fellow who finds he has three miles further to go in a pair of tight shoes, is in a pretty situation. Now rooms with the sun upon them become intolerable; and the apothecary's apprentice, with a bitterness beyond aloes, thinks of the pond he used to bathe in at school. Now men with powdered heads (especially if thick) envy those that are unpowdered, and stop to wipe them up hill, with countenances that seem to expostulate with destiny. Now boys assemble round the village pump with a ladle to it, and delight to make a forbidden splash and get wet through the shoes. Now also they make suckers of leather, and bathe all day in rivers and ponds, and make mighty fishing for "tittle-bats." Now the bee, as he hums along, seems to be talking heavily of the heat. Now doors and brick walls are burning to the hand; and a walled lane, with dust and broken bottles in it, near a brick-field is a thing not to be thought of. Now a green lane, on the contrary, thick set with hedge-row clms, and having the noise of a brook "rumbling in pebble stone," is one of the pleasantest things in the world.

Now, in town, gossips talk more than ever in rooms, in door-ways, and out of window, always be

ginning the conversaation with saying that the heat

is overpowering. Now blinds are let down and doors thrown open, and flannel waistcoats left off, and cold meat preferred to hot, and wonder expressed why tea continues so refreshing, and people delight to sliver lettuces into bowls, and apprentices water doorways with tin canisters that lay several atoms of dust. Now the water-cart, jumbling along the middle of the street, and jolting the showers out of its box really does something. Now fruiterers' shops and dairies look pleasant, and ices are the only things to those who can get them. Now ladies loiter in baths, and people make presents of flowers, and wine is put into ice; and the after-dinner lounger recreates his head with applications of perfumed water, out of long-necked bottles. Now the lounger who cannot resist riding his new horse, feels his boots burn him. Now buckskins are not the lawn of Cos. Now jockeys, walking in great coats, to lose flesh, curse inwardly. Now five fat people in a stagecoach hate the sixth fat one who is coming in, and think he has no right to be so large. Now clerks in offices do nothing but drink soda-water and sprucebeer, and read the newspaper. Now the old-clothesman drops his solitary cry more deeply into the areas on the hot and forsaken side of the street, and bakers look vicious, and cooks are aggravated, and the steam of a tavern-kitchen catches hold of us like the breath of Tartarus. Now delicate skins are beset with gnats, and boys make their sleeping companion start up with playing a burning-glass on his hand; and blacksmiths are super-carbonated, and coblers in their stalls almost feel a wish to be transported; and butter is too easy to spread, and the dragoons wonder whether the Romans liked their helmets; and old ladies, with their lappets unpinned, walk along in a state of dilapidation; and the servant-maids are afraid they look vulgarly hot; and the author who has a plate of strawberries brought him, finds that he has come to the end of his writing

We cannot conclude this article, however, without returning thanks, both on our own account and on that of our numerous predecessors who have left so large a debt of gratitude unpaid, to this very useful and ready monosyllable-"Now." We are sure that there is not a didactic poet, ancient or modern, who, if he possess a decent share of candour, will not be happy to own his obligations to that masterly conjunction, which possesses the very essence of wit, for it has the art of bringing the most remote things together. And its generosity is in proportion to its wit, for it always is most profuse of its aid, where it is most wanted

BIRTH-DAYS.

24th July, at Rome, 100 years B. C. (12 O. S. We know not whether the computation is very accurate, but he should be mentioned during the month, which was named after him), Julius Cæsar, one of the greatest men that ever lived, as far as a man's greatness can be estimated from his soldiership, and He general talents, and personal aggrandizement. had the height of genius in the active sense, and was not without it in the contemplative. He was a captain, a writer, a pleader, a man of the world, in the largest as well as most trivial points of view, and superior to all scruples, except those which tended to the en

largement of his fame, such as clemency in conquest. Whether he was a very great man in the prospective, universal, and most enduring sense, as a man of his species, instead of a man of his time is another question, which must be settled by the growing lights of the world and by future ages. He put an end to his country's freedom, and did no good that we are aware of to any one but himself, unless by the production or prevention of results known only to Providence. July 26th, (14th O. S.) 1721, at one of the Orkney islands, where his family had settled during the Reformation, Sir Robert Strange, an engraver of true genius, knighted by George III.; famous for his congenial handling of some of the finest productions of Titian and others, particularly in the roundness and delicacy of his flesh. He was originally intended for the law; took up arms for the Pretender, partly to please the family of the lady whom he afterwards married; and was a most excellent, amiable man, the delight of his friends as well as of the connoisseur. He was so conscientious, however in the exercise of his art, and worked so hard at it, that he dreaded lest any of his children should adopt it as a profession, and was always anxious to keep the pencil out of

their hands.

July 28th, (16.0.S.) 1723, at Plympton in Devonshire, the son of a schoolmaster, Sir Joshua Reynolds, the well-known portrait and historical painter, the greatest artist except Hogarth which this country is underI stood to have produced, till Wilkie rose to surpass him in correctness, and Edwin Landseer lately appeared, to surpass them all perhaps in the union of correctness and gusto. Hogarth remains unrivalled as a moralist and a wit on canvass; and Wilkie (of course, in no ill sense of the word), is the low humourist of his country; but Edwin Landseer is perhaps upon the whole the most perfect artist, and the least likely to be doubted by posterity, that has hitherto adorned the nation. Stothard however will be loved for his tenderness and grace; and we have a fine landscape-painter in Wilson. Sir Joshua Reynolds had colouring, elegance, and a taste for artificial refinement, which thoroughly suited his age; but he wanted drawing and real history, and tampered so with his colours that they do not last.

ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. XXIV. STORY OF MADEMOISELLE DE TOURNON, RELATED BY MARGARET, QUEEN OF NAVARRE.

This story, which if we are not mistaken, has been workedup into a novel by Madame de Genlis, is taken from a translation of the autobiographical memoirs o the celebrated Margaret of Valois, Queen of Navarre, who seems to have been beloved by every body but her husband, Henry IV., who divorced her. Her majesty, who was sister of Kings Charles IX. and Henry III., and much used by them for court purposes, on account of her wit and persuasiveness, is relating a Journey which she had been advised to make into the Netherlands, in company with the Princess de la Roche Sur Yon; and we have retained, in our extract, the circumstances immediately preceding and following the young lady's story, as a sort of frame and contrast to the picture, and a specimen of those gay court enjoyments which invested whatever happened in those times, however tragical

The Bishop of Liege, who is the sovereign of the city and country, (says the royal autobiographer) received me with all the cordiality and respect that could be expected from a person of his dignity and great accomplishments. He was, indeed, a nobleman endowed with singular prudence and virtue; agreeable in his person and conversation, gracious and magnificent in his carriage and behaviour; to which I may add that he spoke the French language perfectly well.

He was constantly attended by his chapter, with several of his canons, who are all sons of dukes, counts, or great German lords. The bishopric is itself a sovereign state, which brings in a considerable revenue, and includes a number of fine cities. The bishop is chosen from amongst the canons, who must be of noble descent, and resident one year. The city is larger than Lyons, and much resembles it, having the Meuse running through it. The houses in which the canons reside, have the appearance of noble palaces. The streets of the city are regular and spacious, the houses of the citizens well built, the squares large, and ornamented with curious fountains; the churches appear as if raised entirely of marble, of which there are considerable quarries in the neigh

bourhood; they are all of them ornamented with beautiful clocks, and exhibitions of moving figures.

The bishop received me as I landed from the boat and conducted me to his magnificent residence, ornamented with delicious fountains and gardens, set off with galleries all painted, superbly gilt, and enriched with marble beyond description.

The spring which affords the waters of Spa, being distant no more than three or four leagues from the city of Liege, and there being only a village, consisting of three or four small houses on the spot, the Princess of Roche Sur Yon was advised by her physicians to stay at Leige, and have the waters brought to her, which they assured her would have equal efficacy, if taken up after sunset and before sunrise, as if drank at the spring. I was well pleased that she resolved to follow the advice of her doctors, as we were more comfortably lodged, and had an agreeable society; for besides his grace, (so the bishop is styled, as a king is addressed his majesty, and a prince his highness), the news of my arrival being spread about, many lords and ladies came to visit me. Amongst these was the countess d'Aremberg, who had the honour to accompany Queen Elizabeth to Meziers, to which place she came to marry King Charles, my brother, a lady very high in the estimation of the empress, the emperor, and all sister, the Landgravine, Madame d'Aremberg, her With her came her the princes in christendom. daughter, Mons. d'Aremberg, her son, a gallant and accomplished nobleman, the perfect image of his father, who brought the Spanish succours to King Charles, my brother, and returned with great honour and additional reputation. This meeting, so honourable to me, and so much to my satisfaction, was damped by the grief and concern occasioned by the loss of Mademoiselle de Tournon, whose story being of a singular nature, I shall now relate to you, agreeable to the promise I made in my last letter.

Madame de Tournon, lady of my bed-chamber, had several daughters, the eldest of whom married Mons. de Balenson, governor, for the king of Spain, in the county of Burgundy. This daughter, upon her marriage, had solicited her mother to admit of her taking her sister, the young lady whose story I am now about to relate, to live with her, as she was going to a country strange to her, and wherein she had no relations. To this her mother consented; and the young lady being universally admired for her modesty and graceful accomplishments, for which she certainly deserved admiration, attracted the notice of the Marquis de Varenbon. The marquis was the brother of M. de Balenson, and was intended for the church; but, being violently enamoured of Mademoiselle de Tournon (whom, as he lived in the same house, he had frequent opportunities of seeing), he now begged his brother's permission to marry, not having yet taken orders. The young lady's family to whom he had likewise communicated his wish, readily gave their consent, but his brother refused his, strongly advising him to change his resolution, and put on the gown.

Thus were matters situated, when her mother, Madame de Tournon, thinking she had cause to be offended, ordered her daughter to leave the house of her sister, Madam de Balenson, and come to her. The mother, a woman of violent spirit, not considering that her daughter was grown up, and merited a mild treatment, was continually scolding the poor young lady, so that she was for ever with tears in her eyes. Still there was nothing to blame in the young lady's conduct; but such was the severity of the mother's disposition. The daughter, as you may well suppose, wished to be from under the mother's tyrannical government, and was accordingly delighted with the thoughts of attending me, in the journey to Flanders, hoping, as it happened, that she should meet the Marquis de Varenbon somewhere on the road, and that, as he had now abandoned all thoughts of the church, he would renew his proposal of marriage, and take her from her mother.

I have before mentioned that the Marquis de Varenbon, and the younger Balenson joined us at Namur. Young Balenson, who was far from being so agreeable as his brother, addressed himself to the young lady, but the Marquis, during the whole time we staid at Namur, paid not the least attention to her, and seemed as if he had never been acquainted

with her.

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descended from a great family allied to the queen my mother. When the day of interment arrived, four of my gentlemen were appointed bearers, one of whom was named La Boessiere. This man had entertained a secret passion for her, which he never durst declare, on account of the inferiority of his family and station. He was now destined to bear the remains of her, dead, for whom he had long been dying, and was now as near dying for her loss, as he had before been for her love.

The melancholy procession was marching slowly along, when it was met by the Marquis de Varenbon..

who had been the sole occasion of it. We had not left Namur long, when the Marquis reflected upon his cruel behaviour towards the unhappy young lady; and his passion, (wonderful to relate!) being revived by the absence of her who inspired it, though scarcely alive while she was present, he had resolved to come and ask her of her mother in marriage. He made no doubt perhaps of success, as he seldom failed in enterprizes of love, witness the great lady he has since obtained for a wife, in opposition to the will of her family. He might besides have flattered himself that he should easily have gained a pardon from her by whom he was beloved, according to the Italian proverb, che la forza d'amore non riguarda al delitto,"Lovers are not criminal in the estimation of one another." Accordingly, the Marquis solicited Don John to be despatched to me on some errand, and arrived, as I said before, at the very instant the corpse of this illfated young lady was bearing to the grave. He was stopped by the crowd occasioned by this solemn procession. He contemplates it for some time. He observes a long train of persons in mourning, and remarks the coffin to be covered with a white pall, and that there are chaplets of flowers laid upon the coffin. He inquires whose funeral it is. The answer he receives is, that it is the funeral of a young lady. Unfortunately for him this reply fails to satisfy his curiosity. He makes up to one who led the procession, and eagerly asks the name of the young lady they are proceeding to bury. When oh! fatal answer! Love, willing to revenge the victim of his ingratitude and neglect, suggests a reply which had nearly deprived him of life. He no sooner heard the name of Mademoiselle de Tournon pronounced, than He is taken up he fell from his horse in a swoon. for dead and conveyed to the nearest house, where he lay, for a time, insensible; his soul, no doubt, leaving his body to obtain pardon from her whom he had hastened to a premature grave, and then to return to taste the bitterness of death a second time.

Having performed the last offices to the remains of this poor young lady, I was unwilling to discompose the gaiety of the society assembled here, on my account, by any show of grief. Accordingly, I joined the bishop, or, as he is called, his grace, and his canons in their entertainments at different ouses, or in gardens, of which the city and its neighbourhood afforded a variety. I was every morning attended by a numerous company to the garden, in which I drank the waters, the exercise of walking being recommended to be used with them. As the physician who advised me to take them was my own brother, they did not fail of their effect with me; and for these six or seven years which are gone over my head since I drank them, I have been free from any complaint of Erysipelas on my arm. From this gar

den we usually proceeded to the place where we were invited to dinner; after dinner we were amused with a ball; from the ball we went to some convent, where we heard vespers; from vespers to supper, and that over, we had another ball, or music on the river.

SPECIMENS OF CELEBRATED AUTHORS.

SWIFT.

"

A Treatise on Good Manners and Good Breeding. IT has happened, that in our first two extracts under this head, owing to a certain easiness in the temperament of the writers, the style has occasionally been more negligent than might have been looked for in models of composition, especially in that from Montaigne. We now present the reader with one, which the very infirmities of the author, his irritability and pride, conspired to render a sample of the very perfection of clearness and precision. Switt's distinction of a good style was proper words in proper places ;" and the passage before us is a triumphant exhibition of it. The treatise, throughout, is admirable, and calculated to be of the greatest service to every sensible reader who may happen to be in need of any of its precepts. The author, perhaps the greatest man of his time, had himself stood in need of bearing such precepts in mind, and may have profited by putting them down on paper; for though naturally subject to the infirmities above mentioned, he was scrupulous in observing certain laws of conThe funeral of this unfortunate young lady was solemnized with all proper ceremonies, and con- versation, and till disease over-mastered him, was a ducted in the most honourable manner, as she was very attractive companion.

The resentment, grief, and disappointment occasioned by a behaviour so slighting and unnatural, was necessarily stifled in her breast, as decorum and her sex's pride obliged her to appear as if she disregarded it; but, when, after taking leave, all of them left the boat, the anguish of her mind, which she had hitherto suppressed, could no longer be restrained, and labouring for vent, it stopped her respiration, and forced from her those lamentable outcries which I have already spoken of. Her youth combated for eight days with this uncommon disorder, but at the expiration of that time she died, to the great grief of her mother, as well as myself; I say of her mother, for though she was so rigidly severe over her daughter, she tenderly loved her.

Good manners is the art of making those people easy with whom we converse.

Whoever makes the fewest persons uneasy is the best bred man in the company.

As the best law is founded upon reason, so are the manners. And as some lawyers have introduced unreasonable things into common law; so likewise many teachers have introduced absurd things into common good manners.

One principal point of this art is to suit our behaviour to the three several degrees of men; our superiors, our equals, and those below us.

For instance, to press either of the two former to eat or drink is a breach of manners; but a tradesman, or a farmer, must be thus treated, or else it will be difficult to persuade them that they are welcome.

Pride, ill-nature, and want of sense, are the three great sources of ill-manners: without some of these defects, no man will behave himself ill for the want of experience; or what, in the language of fools, is called knowing the world.

I defy any one to assign an accident wherein reason will not direct us what we are to say or do in company, if we are not misled by pride or ill-nature.

Therefore I insist that good sense is the principal foundation of good manners; but because the former is a gift which very few among mankind are possessed of, therefore all the civilized nations of the world have agreed upon fixing some rules for common behaviour, best suited to their general customs and fancies; as a kind of artificial good sense to supply the defects of reason. Without which, the gentlemanly part of dunces would be perpetually at cuffs, as they seldom fail when they happen to get drunk, or engaged in squables about women or play. And, God be thanked, there hardly happeneth a duel in a year, which may not be imputed to one of these three motives. Upon which account, I should be exceedingly sorry to find the Legislature make any new laws against the practice of duelling; because the methods are easy and many, for a wise man to avoid a quarrel with honour, or engage in it with innocence. And I can discover no political evil in suffering bullies, sharpers, and rakes to rid the world of each other by a method of their own, where the law hath not been able to find an expedient.

As the common forms of good manners were intended for regulating the conduct of those who have weak understandings; so they have been corrupted by the persons for whose use they were contrived. For these people have fallen into a needless and endless way of multiplying ceremonies, which have been extremely troublesome to those who practise them and insupportable to every body else; insomuch, that wise men are often more uneasy at the overcivility of these refiners, than they could possibly be in the conversation of peasants or mechanics.

The impertinences of this ceremonial behaviour are no where better seen than at those tables where the ladies preside, who value themselves upon account of their good breeding; where a man must reckon upon passing an hour without doing any one thing he hath a mind to; unless he will be so hardy as to break through all the settled decorum of the family. She determineth what he loveth best, and how much he is going to eat, and if the master of the house happeneth to be of the same disposition, he proceedeth, in the same tyrannical manner, to prescribe in the drinking part; at the same time you are under the necessity of answering a thousand apologies for your entertainment. And, although a good deal of this humour is pretty well worn off among people of the best fashion, yet too much of it still remaineth, especially in the country; where, an honest gentleman assured me, that having been kept four days against his will at a friend's house with all the circumstances of hiding his boots, locking up the stable, and other contrivances of the like nature, he could not remember, from the moment he came into the house to the moment when he left it, any one thing, wherein his -inclination was not directly contradicted; as if the whole family had entered into a combination to torment him.

But besides all this, it would be endless to recount "the many foolish and ridiculous accidents I have observed among these unfortunate proselytes to ceremony. I have seen a dutchess fairly knocked down by the precipitances of an officious coxcomb, running to save her the trouble of opening a door. I remember, upon a birthday at court, a great lady was utterly disconsolate by a dish of sauce let fall by a page directly upon her head-dress and brocade; while she gave a sudden turn to her elbow upon some point of ceremony with the person who sat next to her. 'Mons. Buys, the Dutch envoy, whose politics and 'manners were much of a size, brought a son with him, about thirteen years old, to a great table at court. The boy and his father whatever they put on their plates they first offered round in order, to every 'person in company, so that we could not get a minute's quiet during the whole dinner. At last their two plates happened to encounter, and with so much violence, that, being china, they broke in twenty pieces; and stained half the company with wet sweetmeats and cream.

There is a pedantry in manners, as in all arts and

sciences; and sometimes in trades. Pedantry is properly the over-rating of any kind of knowledge we pretend to. And if that kind of knowledge be a trifle in itself, the pedantry is the greater. For which reason, I look upon fidlers, dancing-masters, heralds, masters of the ceremony, &c. to be greater pedants than Lipsius, or the elder Scaliger. With these pedants, the court, while I knew it, was always plentifully stocked; I mean from the gentleman usher (at least) inclusive; down to the gentleman-porter, who are, generally speaking, the most insignificant race of people that this island can afford; and with the smallest tincture of good manners, which is the only trade they profess. For, being wholly illiterate, and conversing chiefly with each other, they reduce the whole system of breeding within the forms and circles of their several offices; and as they are below the notice of ministers, they live and die in court, under all revolutions, with great obsequiousness to those who are in any degree of credit or favour, and with rudeness and insolence to everybody else. From whence I have long concluded, that good manners are not a part of the court growth; for if they were, those people who have understandings directly of a level for such acquirements, who have served such long apprenticeships to nothing else, would certainly have picked them up. For as to the great officers who attend the prince's person, or councils, or preside in his family, they are a transient body, who have no better title to good manners than their neighbours, nor will probably have recourse to gentlemen-ushers for instruction. So that I know little to be learned at court upon this head, except in the material circumstance of dress; wherein the authority of the maids of honour must indeed be allowed to be almost equal to that of a favourite actress.

I remember a passage my lord Bolingbroke told me; that, going to receive Prince Eugene of Savoy at his landing, in order to conduct him immediately to the queen, the prince said he was much concerned he could not see her majesty that night; for Mons. Hoffman (who was then by) had assured his highness that he could not be admitted into her presence with a tied-up periwig; that his equipage was not arrived,

and that he had endeavoured in vain to borrow a long one among all his valets and pages. My lord turned the matter to a jest, and brought the prince to her majesty, for which he was highly censured by the whole tribe of gentlemen-ushers, among whom, Mons. Hoffman, an old dull resident of the emperor's, had picked up this material point of ceremony; and which, I believe, was the first lesson he had learned in five-and-twenty years residence.

I make a difference between good-manners and good-breeding, although, in order to vary my expression, I am sometimes forced to confound them. By the first, I only understand the art of remembering and applying certain settled forms of general behaviour. But good-breeding is of a much larger extent; for, besides an uncommon degree of literature sufficient to qualify a gentleman for reading a play, or a politi-, cal pamphlet, it taketh in a great compass of knowledge; no less than that of dancing, fighting, gaming, making the circle of Italy, riding the great horse, and speaking French: not to mention some other secondary or subaltern accomplishments, which are more easily acquired. So that the difference between good-breeding and good-manners lieth in this, that the former cannot be attained to by the best understandings without study and labour; whereas a tolerable degree of reason will instruct us in every part of good manners without other assistance.

I can think of nothing more useful upon this subject than to point out some particulars wherein the very essentials of good manners are concerned, the neglect or perverting the which doth very much disturb the good commerce of the world, by introducing a traffic of mutual uneasiness in most companies. First, a necessary part of good manners is a punctual observance of time, at our own dwellings, or those of others, or at third places; whether upon matter of civility, business, or diversion; which rule, though it be a plain dictate of common reason, yet the greatest minister* I ever knew was the greatest trespasser against it; by which all his business doubled upon him and placed him in a continual arrear. Upon which I often used to rally him as deficient in point of good-manners. I have known more than one ambassador, and secretary of state, with a very moderate portion of intellectuals, execute their offices with good success and applause, by the mere force of exactness and regularity. If you duly observe time for the service of another, it doubles the obligation: if upon your own account, it would be manifest folly as well as ingratitude to neglect it; if both are concerned, to make your equal or your inferior attend on you to your own advantage, is pride and injustice.

Ignorance of forms cannot properly be styled ill manners, because forms are subject to frequent changes; and consequently being not founded upon reason are beneath a wise man's regard. Besides, they vary in every country; and after a short period of time, very frequently in the same, so that a man who travelleth must needs be at first a stranger to them in every court through which he passes; and,

Robert Harley, Eearl of Oxford, Lord High Treasurer to Queen Anne.

1

perhaps, at his return as much a stranger in his own and after all, they are easier to be remembered or for gotten than faces or names.

Indeed, among the many impertinencies which coperficial young men bring with them from abroad, this bigotry of forms is one of the principal and more predominant than the rest: who look upon them not only as if they were matters capable of admitting of choice, but even as points of importance: and therefore are zealous upon all occasions to introduce and propagate the new forms and fashions they have brought back with them. So that, usually speaking, the worst bred person in company is a young traveller just returned from abroad.

FASSAGES FROM THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SIR EGERTON BRYDGES, BART.

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PER LEGEM TERRÆ, LORD CHANDOS OF SUDELY."* SIR Egerton Brydges, notwithstanding all which the critics have said, sometimes too truly, of the self-seeking, the repetitions, and vague and commonplace ideas observable in this work, is in our minds not only an interesting personage, by reason of the very weakness with which he clings to the romance and heraldry of his family claims, forgetting all the evils of the day of feudality in the last lingering colours of its sunset, but we look upon him as a man possessed of a real genius, which has been spoilt for want of cultivation, and has now become affecting in consequence, like some long evening sigh over a barren moor, or through the ruins of an old castle. Some of the personal sketches in his book, as may be seen by the following extracts, are masterly; and if nothing else survived him but the sonnet entitled "Echo and Silence," it would fully bear out, we think, the opinion we have expressed of his natural powers. The use of the word "she," instead of "one of them," in the sixth line, is highly vivid and full of impulse, and all the remainder downwards, is in the very best taste of fanciful imagery.

Effect of worldly splendour upon childhood.-There is a dazzle in worldly greatness which no young mind or heart can resist. I always from a child, loved to get out of its way, and bury myself in the woods.— "When I could not conquer, I learned to fly." I sincerely and deeply wish I had never come back again out of those woods. But I used to hear from my earliest infancy of the rise and grandeur of my ancestor, Lord Chancellor Egerton, and of my royal blood. Then again I heard of Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, who was my father's relation, and of whose education I have heard that my grandfather had the care. The portrait of Chancellor Egerton, in his official robes, hung by the bedside in which I was born, and seemed with his grave countenance to look solemnly upon me. The engraved portrait of the other always hung over the fire-side of my uncle's justice-room. The Gibbon arms were there quartered with the York saltier, and reminded me of the relationship, for I was always observant of heraldic symbols. I have no doubt that these things made an impression on my mind which operated strongly on my future fate.

The Gentry of Kent.-At a particular age a peculiar cast of character prevails among the gentry of a particular province. We may not always be able to account for it; it is probably a fashion given by some one of leading rank and wealth. Kent once produced some very eminent men: witness Sir Thomas Wyat, Lord Buckhurst, Sir Philip Sidney, and Sir Francis Walsingham. In the time of Charles I. the leading gentry were men of celebrity; such as Sir Dudley Diggs, Sir Roger Twysden, editor of the "Decem Scriptores," and Sir Edward Dering: this, of course, gave the bent to the minor gentry. One of the Knatchbulls, in the next reign, was an author, and in rather a singular department for a country baronet,-it was in divinity. I do not remember ever to have heard of a Honywood having written a book. The Furnesses of Waldershire raised themselves to great riches at once, by smuggling, at Sandwich, in the reign of William and Mary, but expired in the next generation, enriching Lord Guildford, Sir Edward Dering, and the third Lord Bolingbroke. We had rarely much nobility. The second Lord Cowper, son of the Chancellor, was popular at the Moat, by his support of a pack of fox-hounds, and his love of the sports of the field; and I believe that the Lords Rockingham were well esteemed at Lee's Court, near Feversham; but the squires ruled the day. Mr. Barrett of Lee was a man of virtu, and a collector; he died 1758: Sir James Gray of Dennehill, was a a diplomatist; and Mr. Robinson, afterwards Lord Rokeby, shut himself up, when he quitted Parliament, in his own independence of mind and habits, at Horton, near Hythe. Old John Lewis pursued his

Two vols. 8vo. Embellished with two portraits, and a curious heraldic Vignette. Cochrane and M'Crone.

own antiquarianisms at Margate, then a little fishing town, far from all these merry spirits of the field; while Dr. Brook Taylor indulged his philosophical genius at Bifrons. Sir Thomas Palmer, of Wingham, indulged himself, as Pope says, in wedding "the whole personæ dramatis."

To Palmer's bed no actress comes amiss, He weds the whole personæ dramatis. At the same time Sir John Hales shut himself up in his house at St. Stephen's, living like old Elwes, with an immense estate, on a crust, and letting his only son die in a prison. Old Dr. Nicholas Carter, the father of the poetess, was writing theological tracts against his neighbour, the orthodox Randolph, and bandying Latin epigrams with Sir George Oxenden, of Deane; and the poetess herself was writing odes upon wisdom, corresponding with Archbishop Secker, and translating Epictetus; while Nicholas Hardinge was visiting the Grays, and writing Denhilliads. Then the boy Thurlow was leading a life of torment to his master, Talbot, by his tricks and drolleries at Canterbury school; and laying the foundation of his own future greatness, by the ascendancy of his temper, and the daring directness of his talents. There from a small house opposite the west door of the Cathedral issued a Countess of Salisbury, and a fate of future greatness was still hovering over the same humble tenement, destined to be the birth-place of the late most excellent Lord Chief Justice of England. From another town in the same district the noble and illustrious house of Yorke had already issued to adorn the woolsack, and enlighten the legislation of the kingdom. At the time Mrs. Macauley from Ollantigh was nursing her radical politics, and collecting materials for her most furious "History," her brother Sawbridge was dreaming of civic honours and John Wilkes. Such was East Kent from about 1720 to 1765.

Lord Rokeby. When he took possession of Horton he laid down a plan of life peculiar to himself. He resolved to be shackled by no ceremonies, but to pass his days in independence, according to what it seemed to him that nature pointed out: he kept no carriage, he never mounted a horse; he allowed no liveries to his servants; but his house-keeping was bountiful, and his hospitality generous and large. He was a resolute and unbending whig, formed on the principles of Algernon Sydney and Locke; and he carried his arguments much further than in those days the people were accustomed. Daring to think only for hmself, he sometimes indulged in crude ideas, and his style was inelegant and harsh. He carried his hatred of the artificial through everything; he took down his garden walls, and let his hedges drop, that his herds and flocks might have their full range. He hated the plough, and let his arable fields run to natural grass; so that his park became very large and very picturesque merely by letting it alone: he was skilful in the management of cattle, aad as his land was rich his stock was fat and profitable.

He had some strange notions about money, and rarely put it out at interest; he kept a sum of money in gold for about fifty years in chests in his house, which, at a compound interest would have accumuated to £100,000; and he had at his death above £20,000 lying in the hands of different bankers, of which a great part had lain there for many years; re had also money in many of the continental banks. He had no faith in the public funds, and always predicted that they would break; a prediction which he contended was fulfilled when the bank was restricted from cash-payments in 1797; yet it was not very reasonable to fear the national bank and trust private banks. It must be admitted that he entertained some crotchets in his head.

His clothes were plain to a degree that many would call mean; and latterly he let his white beard grow down to his waist. He was a great walker, and stalked along with his staff, like an aged peasant, His voice was loud but his manners were courteous, and he knew the world well. He was sagacious, manly and uncompromising. He had a great contempt for provincial importance; and therefore was not in great favour with some of the neighbouring gentry, who knew not how to estimate that dignity of mind which despised those outward trappings of superiority on which they prided themselves. By the yeomanry and peasantry he was adored, as their protector and benefactor.

He was a great reader, but not of works of imagination. His taste turned to politics, voyages, and travels. As he loved plainness, he did not relish the more refined parts of literature. He was the reverse of his father, who was never happy out of the high and polished society and clubs of London, and thought a country life a perfect misery. The father and son were not very fond of one another, and each was angry at the other's taste. In every thing Lord Rokeby was manly and straightforward: he had no dark and hidden passions; he was free from the slightest taint of envy or jealousy: he was nobly generous, while he knew the full value of money; so much so as to appear to superficial observers miserly. His very simple and humble dress, was mistaken by many for avarice.

When now and then some stranger of rank came

into the country, and paid him a visit through curiosity, founded on the absurd rumours of his eccentricities and hermit-life, he was surprised to meet with a man, though singular in his dress, yet a man of the world in his manners and conversation; ready, acute, easy, and full of good sense, with a power of sarcastic dignity which put down the smallest attempt at impertinence or misapprehension.

He retained his faculties to the last, and, I believe had enjoyed his earthly being altogether more than any other person I could name. He had an estate in Yorkshire as well as in Kent, of which I do not know the exact extent, and of which he never raised the rents; and he might have died amazingly rich in pastoral property, if he had made interest of his

money.

Duncombe, the translator of Horace. John Duncombe, the translator of Horace, was at this time Sixpreacher at Canterbury, and rector of Herne. He, was a sort of general literateur,-very multifarious in his erudition, but not very exact; neglected and uncouth in his person; and awkward in his manner; a long face, with only one eye, and a shambling figure; his pockets stuffed with pamphlets; his manner hurried, and his articulation indistinct. He reached a certain point in every thing, but in nothing went beyond mediocrity. The translations of Horace by himself and his father are miserably dull. Nothing was alledged against him, unless perhaps that he was mean in pecuniary matters. [This "unless" is a pleasant qualification!]

One of the prebendaries

Bishop Berkeley's family. of Canterbury, was Dr. George Berkeley, son of the celebrated Irish Bishop. He recommended to my father, as a remedy, the bishop's pamphlet on tarwater; but my father unfortunately took a quack medicine called "Soap lees," -a medicine strong enough to kill a horse. Dr. Berkeley was an amiable man, but talkative and wild, with a very small portion of his father's genius. He had married a virago, the most garrulous, vain, foolish, presumptuous, and ill tempered of women; by whom he had a son George Moncke Berkeley; who mingled most of the absurdities of his parents, except that he was not so badtempered as his mother. He died at the age of between twenty and thirty, and his mother published a heavy quarto "Memoir," purporting to be an account of his life, but stuffed with every sort of nonsense and impertinence. Thus ended the descendants of the excellent and illustrious Bishop Berkeley, to whom Pope ascribed "every virtue under heaven." The pious Mrs. Catherine Talbot (neice of Chancellor Talbot) has been, in early life, deeply attached to Dr. Berkeley, the son,-an attachment, which it was suspected, she could not eradicate from her heart to the last. Mrs. Berkeley, when angry, could sit for hours relating a set of scandalous stories, all falsehoods of her own fertile invention from beginning to end. Though the very picture of ugliness and deformity, she affected to have been a great beauty, and said she endeavoured to spoil her face, in pity to the worshiping swains, who would otherwise have died of admiration. Her husband was a dreaming, light-hearted, self-deluding man, who bore all this without great

annoyance.

Country gentlemen fifty years ago.-I never saw London till I was sixteen years old; nor indeed ever went out of Kent. My father's health was bad, and he lived entirely in the country, his family was large, and though he lived plentifully, he lived plainly and unostentatiously. Few country gentlemen then went much to London, unless they were in parliament; and my father had on his own side no near relation except his brother.

The fame of writers compared with that of statesmen and worldly greatness.-The fame of men, of whose minds the fruits are spent upon their contemporaries, soon dies; of excellent authors the labours are permanent, and encrease in value and reputation with time. Make the comparison in what degree of liveliness exists the memory of Johnson and Burke at this day, when set against that of Pitt and Fox. Compare Lord Chancellor Thurlow, Lord Rosslyn, or even Lord Mansfield, with Gibbon or Robertson! Even Cumberland is still familiar to us; while Lord North, to whose greatness he looked with such humble reverence, is fading fast from our recollection ;while Goldsmith, who lost his presence of mind before the pompous splendour of the Duke of Northumberland, lives on every one's lips at the time when the forgotten Duke is entombed in peerage books.

A good memorandum.-The passions are in some degree at the mercy of the thoughts, as are the thoughts of the passions. It is a moral duty therefore to endeavour to think rightly.

Charge against law charges.-I have found that lawyers take from seventy-five to ninety per cent. on an average; sometimes as high as eight hundred per cent.; viz. their charges have been about £2300 for what, when taxed, the legal charge was only £331. 78. 6d.; and taken the greater part of it in advance too, stopping it out of money passing through their hands. In twenty years they have thus taken nearer £100,000 than £50,000 from me and mine; their regular law charges alone amounting to upwards of £2500 a year, and under the name of what they call

their cash payments-many of which were no payments at all-nearly as much. In no other country of the world are there, or ever have there been, such abuses of this kind as in England. The appetite of the extortioner encreases by feeding:

And where the fell attorney prowls for prey, if you do not resist the first false charge of a few. pounds, he will go on till he gets £99. 19s. 6d. of all your property. Let the Thellusson case be a crying instance. But he is not content with taking all; it is one of the tricks to bring you in debt into the bargain, that he may have a rod over you to keep you

mute.

Thomas Warton.-There are few characters on

which I look with so much complacent interest as Warton's. His temper was so sunshiny and benevolent; his manners were so simple; his erudition was so classical and various; his learning was so illuminated by fancy; his love of the country was so unaffected; his images were so picturesque; his knowledge of feudal and chivalrous manners was so minute, curious, and lively; his absence of all wordly ambition and shew was so attractive; his humour was so goodnatured and innocent; his unaffected love of literature was so encouraging and exemplary, that I gaze upon his memory with untired satisfaction. -[There is something very pleasing and beautiful in this summary of Warton's character, the more so for its truth, and not the less so for being influenced by the writer's personal sympathy of pursuits. Some of Warton's sonnets and of Sir Egerton's would suit together, like windows in a cathedral.]

ECHO AND SILENCE.

(Written Oct. 1782, in the Author's Twentieth year.) In eddying course when leaves begin to fly,

And Autumn in her lap the store to strew, As 'mid wild scenes I chanced the Muse to woo Thro' glens untrod and woods that frown'd on high, Two sleeping nymphs with wonder mute I spy!

And lo! she's gone!--In robe of dark-green hue 'Twas Echo from her sister silence flew, For quick the hunter's horn resounded to the sky! In shade affrighted Silence melts away, Not so her sister.--Hark! for onward still

With far heard step she takes her listening way, Bounding from rock to rock and hill to hill.

Ah, mark the merry Maid in mockful play, With thousand mimic tones the laughing forest fill.

Eloquent regret and important advice.-Were a great literary genius to set out early in life without fear, and listen only to the voice of nature, what mighty things he might do! But every one is in youth shackled by the technical tyranny of those who have taken on themselves to dictate in the literary world. He is frightened in the belief that he must by art arrive at some excellence different from nature; and for that he is much less qualified than an inferior mind. He does not trust to nature's first impulses, and seeks something more recondite than her lessons. Thus, he becomes stiff and formal; and so disgusts himself and gets dispirited, and often gives up the pursuit in despair. He finds the charlatan beat him; and hates that which he sees arrogant pretenders win. what a glorious career he thus abandons! A mighty world of inexhaustable wealth, and beauty, and grandeur, and beauty, and magic, is before him. He has but to take his pencil and his colour, and with free hand dash it out upon the canvass; then to look into his own bosom, follow its emotions, and to comment upon it with the eloquence and passion which those emotions prompt. He cannot then be wrong. What is written on his heart, is written on the heart of millions of others.

TABLE-TALK.

Oh,

Unpleasant Remindings.-Never bring to view irremediable disasters; especially to, or in the hearing of any who, in the eyes of others or their own, may. have contributed to these same disasters, or the like. No reference to them will make them not have happened; and, in addition to the sufferings they caused, add not the sufferings which the reminiscence of them brings with it. [Goethe has a good passage on this subject. See the admirable translation of his Wilheln Minister, by Mr. Carlyle.]

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

The song mentioned by D. W. has never reached us. We shall be happy to hear from G. H. L. The lines of the deceased H. L., enclosed by F. B. are very young.

Pray let URBANUS SYLVAN set to work, taking care not to misgive hfmself; and then it will be hard, if his love does not make his writing do him justice.

The article entitled the "Man of Taste," which is under consideration, was not received in time enough for an earlier notice to correspondents.

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JOHN PERRING, Maker and Inventor of Light Hats, 85, Strand, corner of Cecil-street.

MR. CAMPBELL'S LIFE OF MRS. SIDDONS.
This day, in Two Volumes 8vo., with a full-length Portrait,
from Sir Thomas Lawrence, by Lupton, price 26s.
HE LIFE OF MRS. SIDDONS.
BY THOMAS CAMPBELL, Esq.
AUTHOR OF "THE PLEASURES OF HOPE."

"It was a cherished wish of the great actress that this eminent poet should be her biographer; and, many years ago, she exacted from him a promise, that, if he survived her, he would write her Life. The task is now performed, and we have not only the mental, the moral, and physical portrait of this surprisingly great actress reflected as in a mirror, but the work abounds in useful and delightful criticisms, so that a species of charm is imparted to every page."-Weekly Dispatch.

"The private Memoranda of the accomplished person whose memory the poet has thought it worthy of his talents to embalm, form a very interesting feature in these volumes which are, we may say, in a few words, an ornament to our literature of a highly pleasing and instructive character."Literary Gazette.

"Whether we consider the interest which attaches to the subject of these volumes, or the author who furnishes them, we cannot but regard them as a valuable addition to the literature of the country.”—Sunday Times.

"Mrs. Siddons has found a fitting biographer in the poet Campbell. Simple, elegant, and noble in style, as was the wondrous creature whose extraordinary career the work describes, it at once enchains the reader's attention."-Bell's New Weekly Messenger.

"Mrs. Siddons's own Memoranda, in these volumes, display a deep and heart-searching knowledge of human motives and feelings; they must be invaluable to actors, as proving by what patient and intense study she obtained that perfection which was, and is, and we sincerely believe, will remain without a rival."-Athenæum.

"A life of Mrs. Siddons, by Mr. Campbell the poet, cannot but strongly excite the curiosity of the public, We have read it through with an interest proportionate to the eminence of the parties; we never forget that a man of genius is the author, nor fail to recognize those touches of fine poetic feeling, and especially those felicitous similies, for which Mr. Campbell's criticisms are always remarkable."-Leigh Hunt's London Journal.

"The impress of the immortal genius of the author is visible

in every page of this work. In sentiments manly, dignified,

and ennobled; in feeling warm, generous, and enthusiastic; in Janguage pure, natural, and classically elegant: the Life of Siddons, by the bard of the 'Pleasures of Hope,' is a book of great, of transcendant merit, it is in one word a pattern of biography."-The Sun.

"But to say only that the work is well written and a faithful portraiture of the greatest female tragedian that ever graced the English stage, is to omit perhaps its greatest excellence. The 'Life of Siddons' comprises a great deal of useful, stage, and critical information, respecting the state of the British Drama from the accession of Charles II., with anecdotes of the most celebrated female actors, to our own times; it is further illustrated by notes from the pen of Mrs. Siddons herself."The Sun.

success!

"One of the most splendid pieces of b'ography that has ever issued from the press, written at her own express instance, by her intimate friend Campbell, the poet. The work abounds with anecdotes of the most instructive character. To the rising generation, and to all who desire to excel, he clearly demonstrates, that nothing short of unwearied industry, and devotion in the pursuit of their respective callings, can possibly lead to The merit of this great work does not consist so much in dates and dry nomenclature, but, as one of our worthy contemporaries justly observes, "in the many critical disquisitions and pleasing illustrations in which he (Mr. Campbell) has indulged, greatly to our amusement and delight, and much to the honour of his own taste and judgment. The private Memoranda of the accomplished person, too, whose memory the poet has thought it worthy of his talents to embalm, form a very interesting feature in these volumes, which are, we may say, in a few words, an ornament to our literature of a highly pleasing and instructive character."--Literary Gazette, 5th July.

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"The present work has more than ever convinced us of the Anthor's powers and merits, of his talent for picturesque, we might say, dramatic description; of his sensibility both to the beautiful, the noble and the ludicrous; the acuteness of his observations upon men and manners.- Foreign Quarterly Review.

“Those who remember the "Tour of a German Prince,' will be delighted by a work conceived nearly in the same spirit and executed with equal ability, by the same author. We strongly recommend this book to general perusal in its English dress as one of the most pleasing works Germany has lately produced. The translation (by Edmund Spencer) is admirably executed."-The Town.

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Just Published, Part 4 of
THE MUSICAL LIBRARY.

This work appears in numbers every Saturday, Price Fourpence; and in monthly parts, containing 36 pages of music, sewed in a wrapper, price 1s. 6d.

The principle which has been so extensively applied in Literature and the Graphic Art, of producing works at the lowest possible point of cheapness without any abandonment of the qualities by which the popular knowledge and taste may be advanced, has yet a wide field for its employment in the depart. ment of Music. This most delightful of the arts was never so generally cultivated in this country as at the present moment. The Pianoforte, especially contributes to the recreation and enjoyment of thousands of families throughout the United Kingdom, and in our colonial possessions. And yet the publications

THE PENNY CYCLOPEDIA Of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. Just Published, Part XVII., price 9d.

This work has now been published, with invariable regularity, since Jan. 1833; and the great circulation which it has attained is the best proof of the confidence of the public in the accuracy and completeness of its information. In the commencement of such an undertaking, the Editors, bearing in mind the difficulty of securing at once an efficient body of contributors, recommended to the Committee only to attempt the publication of six numbers in each month. Their present stock of materials, and their reliance upon their numerous coadjutors, founded upon ample experience, have induced them to desire that the work should proceed at a quicker rate. In this they feel satisfied that they only second the wishes of the great body of its purchasers.

The Committee have therefore to announce the following arrangements:

1. That the First Volume of the Penny Cyclopædia-containing eleven parts-was concluded on the 30th of November; and published on that day, handsomely bound in cloth, lettered at 7s. 6d.

2. That, commencing with December, two numbers of the work will be published regularly every week without supplements, so that sometimes eight, and sometimes ten numbers will appear in each calendar month.

3. That on the 1st of January, 1834, part 12 was published, price 9d. and the monthly parts will be regularly continued at that price.

4. That on the 1st of September, 1834, the second volume, containing eight ninepenny parts will be published, bound uniformly with vol. I. at 7s. 6d.; and that the future vols. will be completed every eight months.

GALLERY OF PORTRAITS.

Just published, No. 27, containing Portraits and Memoirs of VAUBAN, GOETHE, and WILLIAM III.

Each number, published monthly, consists of Three Portraits, with accompanying Biographical Memoirs, occupying upon an average twenty-four pages of letterpress. The size of the work is Imperial Octavo. The price of each number is Half-a-Crown.

The third volume is now completed, which, as also the two preceding volumes,each containing eight numbers, with twentyfour portraits and memoirs, may now be had, price 1. 18. each, bound in fancy cloth, and lettered, with gilt tops.

The contents of the third volume are as follows:-Erskine, Dollond, John Hunter, Petrarch, Burke, Henry IV., Bentley, Kepler, Hale, Franklin, Schwartz, Barrow, D'Alembert, Hogarth, Galileo, Rembrandt, Dryden, La Peronse, Cranmer, Tasso, Ben Jonson, Canova, Chaucer, Sobieski.

A few proofs of the plates contained in the first three vols. (72 portraits) have been struck off, on imperial folio, and may now be had, either bound or in a Patent Leaf-Holder price six guineas.

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by which this taste ought to be kept up and improved, are sold L E

at a price which, in many cases, amounts to a prohibition.
The design of the Musical Library' is to afford the same
advantage to amateurs in music that the lovers of literature are
deriving from the cheap publications for the advancement of
real knowledge that are now distributed through every part of
the Empire, and are placed within the reach of persons of every
condition. It is proposed to publish a Collection of Music,
both vocal and instrumental, by the best masters, ancient and
modern the ancient in a state adapted to the improved condi
tion of our musical instruments; and the modern the best, and
only the best, that the continent of Europe and our own coun-
try can supply. We shall revive and put into an inviting form
the compositions of the older classical masters, now only known
to a few connoisseurs, keeping in mind the saying of a famous
French modiste,- nothing is so new as that which is forgotten.'
At the same time, it will be our farther object to naturalize the
confessedly good productions of the newest foreign composers,
especially of the German masters, by the republication, some-
times with English words, of their best vocal compositions; and
also by publishing movements, or extracts, complete in them-
selves, from such of their instrumental works as are of a length
unsuited to the Musical Library.' It is also our design, occa-
sionally, to engage composers of the first eminence to supply us
with new compositions; and we shall never neglect an oppor-
tuinty of giving currency to such productions of real genius as
may be offered to us by those who have no means of securing
extensive circulation to them, and who might be deterred from
publishing them on their own account. We thus hope to spread
widely a taste for what is excellent in the various departments
of the art, and render the best compositions available to the pur-
poses of private society. In the execution of our plan we shall
ceadily keep in view the great principle, that excellence and
theapness are not incompatible. The bent of civilization is to
make good things cheap,'

In the prosecution of these objects, which we may not unjustly consider likely to advance our national enjoyments, a weekly Number containing eight music-folio pages is devoted either to Vocal or Instrumental Music, so that these two classes of compositions may be separately bound. It would involve great prac. tical difficulties to attempt to make every Number complete in itself; but as the intervals of publication between each Number are very short, little inconveniences will be experienced. Each Part, however, will be complete in itself, except under very peculiar circumstances.

Also, price бd., sewed in a wrapper, to be continued monthly,
SUPPLEMENT TO THE MUSICAL LIBRARY,

No. 4.

This Supplementary Work may be purchased independently of the Musical Library, which will be complete in itself; but it will form a valuable addition to that publication. It consists of twelve folio pages of letter-press, comprising musical news, oreign and domestic; Reviews of important new musical publications: with memoirs of the Lives, and remarks upon the works, of eminent Composers, and especially of the authors whose productions are published in the Musical Library"

C A M É L É O N;

A Magazine of French Literature, &c.

Also No. 6, price 24.

"Wa are delighted to see any French periodical divested of politics. Our young friends will find Le Cameleon pleasant reading, and well adapted for cultivating their acquaintance with the language."-Lit. Gaz. June 28.

"Should it continue as it has commenced, it may safely be admitted into those families where the fear of the promiscu ous literature of France has hitherto prevailed. The selections are judicious, and afford favourable specimens of the style of the best modern writers."-Spectator, July 5.

London: H. Hooper, 13, Pall-Mall East.

GRAVESEND STAR STEAM PACKETS.

THE MERCURY, the fastest, most commo

dious, and elegantly fitted Packet on the River station, leaves London Bridge Wharf, every Monday at Half-past Nine o'clock; and Gravesend, every Afternoon at Five, arriving ni both cases, ahead of all other Packets.

This Mercury (esteemed a perfect model,) is the only Graves. end Packet with a Saloon, affording the light and view through the stern windows, the effect of which has obtained universal admiration.

The MEDWAY Yacht leaves London Bridge at half-past Eight, every Morning; and Gravesend at Half-past Five in the Afternoon.

The celebrated Commercial Packet, the COMET leaves Gravesend at Seven o'clock in the Morning, (except Mondays, when she leaves at Half-past-six ;) and London Bridge, on her return, at Half past Four, performing her passage in less time than any other Packet, except the Mercury.

In a few days the STAR will be added to the Establishment and due notice given of the hours of her departure.

The Public are respectfully requested to bear in mind, that the Packets start punctually, but are half an hour at the Wharf before the times appointed to start, in order that Passengers may embark conveniently to themselves.

LONDON: Published by H. HoOPER, 13, Pall Mall East.
CITY AGENTS-Messrs. Simpkin and Marshall, Stationers'
Court, Ludgate Hill.

Berger, Holywell Street.

LIVERPOOL-W. Williams, Ranelagh Place.
NOTTINGHAM-C. N. Wright.

BIRMINGHAM-Guest, Steel-house Lane.
MANCHESTER-A. Heywood.

GLASCOW-John Reid, and Co., Queen-street.
EDINBURGH-Messrs. Fraser, and Co. 54, North Bridge,
DUBLIN-Young and Company, Suffolk-street.

Sparrow Printer, 11, Crane-court, Fleet-street.

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