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"Spare him!" cried Katrine, "he is unworthy of thy noble hand. Stain not the day of our union with the blood even of a villain."

"Take thy life, Englishman. I would have given it unasked. Thee and thy base master we despise alike. Back with thee to the corrupt court of England, and tell the royal despot, that our fair land is peopled with women who despise tyrants, and men who can punish them. May heaven one day grant that the chains which thou and thy compeers have now laid on us, as a people, be spurned from our independent country, even as I spurn thee from the side of this lovely and beloved girl."

He touched lightly, with his foot, the breast of his fallen foe, who replied by gnashing his teeth and wiping the drops of sweat from his lip and forehead.

In a few days the three armed vessels sought again the mother isle, and the half-reformed cavalier doubtless found means, in love and wine, to forget the merited lesson of KATRINA SCHUYLER. THEODORE S. FAY.

should he be visible. Oberon's wild conceit of making Titania feel his power, by showing how monstrous a creature he has made her love, is a pleasant trick of fairy land, which becomes gross and disagreeably ludicrous when placed palpably before an audience. Think of the low comedian of a theatre reeling in Titania's bower, with a bad copy of an asses head on, and the queen of the fairies addressing him after this fashion, suiting, at the same time, the action to the word:

"Sleep thou, and I will wind the in my

arms.

Fairies, begone, and be all ways away.
So doth the woodbine the sweet honey-
suckle

Gently entwist; the female ivy so
Enwrings the barky fingers of the elm.

O how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

Suppose this, and suppose a pit full of good, business, common sense sort of people, gazing at the spectacle, and then say what you suppose nine tenths of them secretly think of Shakspeare.

And then Ariel-the delicate Ariel of the enchanted island. The comfavourite repre

FRAGMENTARY CRITICISMS. monly selected and

(For the Parterre.)

NO II.

THE TEMPEST-MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S

DREAM.

WHY will managers insist on bringing such fancies as "The Tempest," or "Midsummer Night's Dream," things of "imagination all compact" upon the stage? If they were not so many Bottoms they would never think of it for a moment. Shakspeare could never have intended it. The singular propriety and delicacy shown in the title of the latter, is almost evidence that he could not. "A Midsummer's Night's Dream"-a very dream-a phantasy-a thing of fancy and imagination, not of action and passion; and yet managers occasionally persist (to use their own abominable phraseology), "getting it up," with "appropriate scenery, machinery, dresses, and decorations." Appropriate representatives and garments for Cobweb, Mustard-seed, Moth, and Pea-blossom! Nor are the mortals of the poem fit for the boards. Bottom, with the asses head on, should never be placed before the bodily eye; to the mind's eye alone

sentatives of "the brave spirit" are
plump, comely, young damsels, with
melodious voices, neat ancles, and un-
impeachable legs; but who speak the
words of Shakspeare, and promise
Prospero
"to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds,"

with about as much animation as they
would ask a lady or gentleman to take
"another cup of tea.* The songs too:
You will hear people who are called
musicians, because they understand the
gamut and play upon an instrument,
but who have about as much real, es-
sential music in them as a dis-organized
barrel-organ, and about as fine and cor-
rect an appreciation of the fitness of
things as a Frenchman has of Shaks-
peare, prate about how admirably Mrs.
or Miss "got through" the Songs
in Ariel; how "splendid" her "exectu-
tion" was, and heaven knows what vile,

The best Ariel it was ever the writer's fortune to witness, was at the Park Theatre, in New York. It was Mrs. Austin, formerly of Drury Lane; and who, it is said, is again about to re-appear in London. Her performance of the part was, like Horn's Casper, a fine ex. ception to the general mass of what we may call vocalist acting, and her manner of giving the songs most chaste and delicious. It almost reconciled us to the performance of the play.

technical, unseemly jargon besides.
Why Ariel's Songs should be breathed—
murmured; but as for "execution," the
mere idea of the dream-like Ariel strain-
ing his throat to effect a parcel of musi-
cal difficulties, is hideous. Even in
speaking, Ariel, in common with other
fantastic creatures of the elements, should
keep in the back-ground, as far removed
from the audience as possible, hovering
about the out-skirts of the scene; and
the songs-
"Come unto the Yellow
Sands," "Full Fathom five thy Father
lies," and "Where the Bee sucks,"
should issue from the coral caves, float
round the jutting rocks, or steal from
the wild greenwood, and by "distance
made more sweet," fall lowly, gently, yet
wildly on the ear. In place of this, we
have a full grown woman of harmonious
yet substantial proportions, stationed
right in the glare of the foot-lamps; and,
with orchestral accompaniments, telling
you, as if she expected to be believed.

"Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
"In a cowslip's bell I lie;
"Where I couch when owls do cry.
"On the bat's back I do fly,
"After summer, merrily."

Now, this is ill-using the imagination -over-taxing it. Then the managers, by way of improvement, have lately thought proper to conclude the Tempest, by hoisting Ariel up to the ceiling in an old-fashioned chair, surrounded by a few ill-painted canvass clouds; impudently asserting as he goes "On a bat's back I do fly," whilst a goodly assemblage of little girls, arrayed in garments of divers colours, stand ranged on either side of the stage, shouting in full chorus, at the top of their voices,

"Merrily, merrily, shall we live now, "Under the blossom that hangs on the bough!"

And then the "hurly-burly" being done, the audience clap their hands, the bell rings, the curtain comes down, and verily there is an end (until one recovers the shock) of Shakspeare's Enchanted Island.

DRESS.

"Why do women array themselves in such fantastical dresses and quaint devices; with gold, with silver, with coronets, with pendants, bracelets, earrings, chains, guales, rings, pins, spangles, embroideries, shadows, rebatoes, versi-colour ribbands, feathers, fans, masks, furs, laces, tiffanies, ruffs, falls,

calls, cuffs, damasks, velvets, tassels, golden cloth, silver-tissue, precious stones, stars, flowers, birds, beasts, fishes, crisped locks, wigs, painted faces, bodkins, setting-sticks, cork, whalebone, sweet odours, and whatever else Africa, Asia, and America can produce; flaying their faces to produce the fresher complexion of a new skin, and using more time in dressing than Cæsar took in marshalling his army-but that, like cunning falconers, they wish to spread false lures to catch unwary larks, and lead, by their gaudy baits and meretritious charms, the minds of inexperienced youth into the traps of love? BURTON.

This is somewhat of a lengthy interrogation for the daughters of Eve to reply to, but still "why do women array themselves," &c. Ay, why indeed, except for the above mentioned purpose. Only to think of the manifold snares, dangers, traps, and temptations we inexHow perienced youths are exposed to! is the most cautious and circumspect man on earth to fight his way through this multitudinous conglomeration of devices? If he successfully resist the "pendants, bracelets, ear-rings, chains," &c., then ten to one but he falls a victim to the "ribbands, feathers, fans, furs, or laces," and heaven only knows what else beside; for the machinations and resources of female society have become much more complex since the time of Burton: and thus it is, that despite all the quips, and jeers, and sneers, and jokes, and witticisms about matrimony; the world still goes steadily and legiti mately on, and statistical tables show what they denominate a "progressive increase." What an ingenious creature is a woman! A man now (we speak little more dressing than a horse. not of exquisites or puppies) takes very has only to put on a few plain linen and woollen garments, brush his hair, and tie. on his handkerchief, and he is done-unsusceptible of further improvement, and for any personal impression he desires to make, he must trust to fortune, and the features and whiskers nature has given him. But a woman!-it is not in the unsophisticated mind of man to conceive the innumerable adornments she can bring into play, to dazzle his senses, confound his judgment, and lead him into precipitous and not to be retracted declarations. The only wonder, considering the number of people who use tobacco

He

and snuff, is, why the pretty creatures generally should give themselves such an infinity of trouble. But so it is. They have made up their minds to have nurseries--a whim you cannot put them off; and, indeed, after our old author's enumeration of their formidable and multifarious implements of warfare, men may as well submit at once with a good grace, and no longer marvel at Benedict's despairing exclamation-" Shall I never look on a bachelor of threescore again!"

"Life's fitful fever."

What a volume of suggestive thought, and profound truth, and beauty of description is comprised in those three words. All the alternations of hope, fear, joy, sorrow, success and disappointment that agitate us though "life's fever" are finely signified in that small word "fitful.""--" Life's fitful fever."

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To quit thee for the dead.

Lo! nature's self, Great nature, deigns to dwell here, more august

Than ermined princes, and more liberal

too.

Spring's golden horn the floral tapestry

strews

The canopy, gay summer's sparkling leaves :

The music, such as autumn loves, when first

The readbreast's lay, linked with the solemn gust,

Floats up from the bare cornfields; and those stern

Unceremonious visits from the sire Of storms and darkness, as he rudely His rugged form down on the chamber'd flings drift,

Do, at least, banish each profaner foot That might molest these melancholy halls:

While the high sun, who in the castle's pride

Might scarce appear, for the red umbered stains

Of painted lattice, or, admitted, fell Unwelcome on the dainty broiderwork Of tapestry or damask, whose fine tints

Abhorred his salutation,-enters now, Proclaimed a gallant guest, munificent,

Engrafting life, and colour, and perfume,

From parapet to pavement.

Noble pile!

Illuminated by the past, secure
From the disastrous future, story hangs
Like a rich arras over thee, all emblazed
With high antiquity and old romance,
Sheltering thy desolation! and since,

first

Abandoned of thy princes, thou didst fling,

As in despair, the turrets from thy brow, (So frantic widows pluck their head. gear off),

And dash out thy bright panes, and to the wind

Lay thy tall porches naked-Sanctity, Ruin's sworn sister, haunts thy shadowy

towers,

While man, bold, thoughtless man, who, to thy feasts

Still brought his hard heart, making thy

saloons

Ring with lascivious jest and wanton song,

Or the hushed echoes, breathless with

the hiss

Of treasonable whisper-if he comes Now to thy pensive solitudes-he comes With step subdued, and reverential air,

That sadness of the brow, which, to the clothes?' she asked; he replied 'Yes.' breast, So the poor woman returned to her Proves ever the most wholesome medi- house, and with her assembled friends ciner.

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Esk Bank, October 9, 1836.

NOTES OF A READER,

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE EGYPTIANS.

"The metropolis occupies a space equal to about three square miles; and its population is about two hundred and forty thousand. It is surrounded by a wall, the gates of which are shut at night, and is commanded by a large citadel, situated at an angle of the town, near a point of the mountain. The streets are unpaved; and most of them are narrow and irregular they might more properly be called lanes."

This description is applicable to most Oriental cities; but there is one peculiarity of Cairo that deserves to be noticed, its freedom from the destructive fires so common in the East: The scarcity of timber in the part of Egypt where the capital is erected, restricts its use in building; there are no frame or shingle houses; wood is only used in flooring. The wood most commonly employed is the palm, the planks of which do not burn readily, and, for the most part, carbonize without flame. During the second revolt of Cairo, Kleber poured upon the city a storm of shells and red-hot balls, the hundreth part of which would have reduced any other eastern metropolis to ashes, but which did very little mischief to the Egyptian capital. On this account the population of Cairo is not liable to the fluctuations so common in the East; fire, the great source of those changes, has no influence, and the vacancies occasioned by plague are soon supplied from the neighbouring villages.

Mr. Lane tells an amusing anecdote of a schoolmaster who was unable to read :

"Being able to recite the whole of the Koran, he could hear the boys repeat their lessons; to write them, he employed the head boy in the school, pretending that his eyes were weak. A few days after he had taken upon himself this office, a poor woman brought a letter for him to read to her from her son, who had gone on pilgrimage. The teacher pretended to read it, but said nothing; and the woman, inferring from his silence that the letter contained bad news, said to him, Shall I shriek?' He

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• Shall I tear my

performed the lamentation and other ceremonies usual on the occasion of a

death. Not many days after this her son arrived, and she asked him what he could mean by causing a letter to be written stating that he was dead. He explained the contents of the letter, and she went to the schoolmaster and begged him to inform her why he had told her to shriek and to tear her clothes, since the letter was to inform her that her son was well, and he was now arrived at home. Not at all abashed, he said,

God knows futurity! How could I know that your son would arrive in safety? It was better that you should think him dead than be led to expect to see him, and perhaps be disappointed.' Some persons who were sitting with him praised his wisdom, exclaiming, Truly, our new teacher is a man of unusual judgment!' and, for a little while, he found that he had raised his reputation by this blunder.”.

ANECDOTE of alexander SECOND DUKE

OF GORDON.

At a time, not very remote, when the Duke of Gordon and all the lords of that family were Roman Catholics, a Protestant not unknown to his grace, rented a small farm under him, near Huntley Castle, and from some cause had fallen behind hand in his payments. A vigilant steward, in the duke's absence seized the farmer's stock for arrears of rent, and advertised it by the parish crier to be rouped or sold by auction, on a fixed day. The duke happily returned in the interval. His tenant who knew the road, made the best of his way to him. "What is the matter, Donald," said the duke, as he saw him enter melancholy. Donald told his sorrowful story in a concise and natural manner. It touched the duke's heart, and produced an acquittance in form. Staring, as he cheerily withdrew, at the pictures and images, he expressed a curiosity to know what they were. These," said the duke, with great condescension, "these are the saints who intercede with God for me." "My lord duke," said Donald,

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would it not be better to apply yourself directly to God himsel?" I went to muckle Sawney Gordon, and to little Sawney Gordon; but, an I'd not come to your guid Grace's self, I could not ha' got my discharge, and baith I and my bairns had been harried."

LONDON:

Published by Effingham Wilson, Junior, 16, King William Street, London Bridge, Where communications for the Editor (post paid) will be received.

[Printed by Manning and Smithsou, Ivy Lane.]

OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.

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JOSEPH BUNTLINE had for many years been boatswain of a man of war, and having served twenty years, he retired on a pension. Not being accustomed to an idle life, he took a public-house near the sea shore, and as he had the character of a free and hearty fellow, he had plenty of customers among the ships' crews, who always took their glass of grog at his house when opportunity offered.

One evening he had been invited to be present at a wedding party, and was returning home at rather a late hour at night when, as he passed the corner of a lonely street, a tall withered looking figure suddenly started forward and stood before him.

"Pray help a poor seaman that's cast adrift, and almost perishing for want," said the strange man.

"Cast adrift and perishing for want," echoed Joe. "How came you to be cast adrift?"

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now," replied the stranger. "I belonged to a merchantman, and came ashore with others of the crew; but by some accident I did not get on board in time, and the vessel sailed without me; that is now a fortnight since, and I have not been able to meet with a berth since that time."

"Well," said Joe, here's a crown, get yourself some victuals and get home at once, it is beginning to rain, and will probably be a gloomy night."

"Home!" echoed the stranger. "Alas I have no home."

"No home?" said Joe starting back. "None," added the stranger.

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"That's hard indeed. Poor fellow! I can't say I like the looks of you; but however, I will give you a lodging for the night at all risks; so follow me.'

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He went forward and the stranger followed, and they shortly arrived at Joe Buntline's house. It was now a late hour, and the few persons who had remained, were leaving the house.

"Go into that tap-room and sit by the fire," said Joe to the stranger. He did as he directed: and Joe proceeded to the bar, and received payment from some

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