This, therefore, is apparently an error, as there is no doubt that the wreck of the Montezuma was north of Bojador, and south of Noon, where the land is very flat, the current strong towards the coast, and the atmosphere hazy, as marked down in the Map of West Barbary, &c. in Shabeeny's Account of Timbuctoo, page 55. Lat. N. 28: 20'. Long. W. 13° and this is the Sachel, or (more properly) the Sahell spoken of by Scott, viz. between Lat. N. 26 and 28; in corroboration of which we are informed by Mr. Jackson, that the mariners whom he redeemed from time to 'time, whilst resident at Santa Cruz, all, invariably told him, that they were wrecked on this flat, invisible, and hazy coast, called by the Arabs Sahell, and lying between 26°. and 28°. of N. Lat. We think the Major's calculation of ten miles a-day for the Caravan travelling, is rather under the mark. We also think, with all deference to the Major's calculations, that the lake Dehebbie Dibbie, or Tieb, (which, by-the-by, is never called Dolomie, or the dark lake) is larger than he makes it. The boats, described by Scott, on the Bahar Tieb, are exactly the same in fashion and construction as those used at Santa Cruz, at Messa, and at Wednoon; differing only in size, and being joined together with nails; those of the Bahar Tieb being twice or three times as large. Mr. Jackson tells us, that he has frequently gone in them at the rate of three miles an hour with six oars, in calm weather; but with a hayk for a sail, and a slight breeze, they go five miles an hour, or rather more, when assisted also by the oar. Now, Scott says, they embarked on their return (see Edin. Phil. Jour. p. 225) at noon, and reached the opposite shore at six o'clock, A. M. next morning, being a traverse of eighteen hours, at five miles an hour: this would give ninety miles for the width of the lake; which, from the circumstance mentioned by Mungo Park, that the canoes, in crossing from W. to E., lose sight of land one whole day, we presume is a tolerably accurate calculation. FROM THE ITALIAN OF LUIGI ALAMANNI SAYS Helen to her husband dear, Whilst back from Troy returning, Down her cheeks streaming many a tear, 66 With shame and sorrow burning: 'I've not inconstant proved to thee, Though Paris did not mind me, And with my person made too free, My soul I left behind me." "That," said her spouse, " I well believe Is true-nor need I doubt you ; The part you left was (I perceive) VOL. 1. NO. VI. + STANZAS, WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR OF DURING SICKNESS. ASTARTE," &c.. I'VE plunged in every wild extreme, That round the shrine of Pleasure flows;- DOMESTIC LOVE! compared to THEE! Sweeter than Passion's fever'd sigh, Like mists before the morning beam! That make life's rugged pathway blest ;' And scatter from thy downy wing That peace which heals the wounded breast! It is not in the revel loud, At Mirth, or Fashion's midnight shrine, As priestcraft, wedlock's silken chain,- Its power, in sorrow, or in pain? And THOU, who in life's summer hour, The rosy god affrighted flies, Nor leaves one ray of bliss behind:" Oh!-didst thou know how false, how vain, For where two youthful hearts unite, 1 ON THE CHOICE OF PROFESSIONS. "Consult the genius of the place in all.”—POPE. UPON the choice of his profession or trade a man's fortune in life materially depends, prosperity and comfort may be said to hang on the decision; and, by thwarting a peculiar bias, or evident preference, we may crush ambition, nullify genius, and substitute heartless labour and profitless exertion for energy, eminence, and fame. Few are gifted with universal talents, and few, perhaps, are able to pursue the particular study or occupation best adapted to their bodily and mental abilities. Powers and capacity may exist unknown even to their possessor, which, if circumstances had brought into notice, might have changed the whole current of his life, and altered and improved his destiny. When by some favouring chance a man discovers the peculiar bent of his genius, and when by a happy fate he is enabled to follow its direction, the foundation is laid for future eminence, though much subsequent exertion and continued perseverance will be requisite to raise the superstructure. To produce this exertion the spur of ambition is useful, but still more effectual is the sharper prick of poverty. When a nobleman showed a picture he had painted to Poussin, and asked his opinion of it, the artist replied, "If you were but poor, my Lord, you would become a fine painter." It is not solely in the higher pursuits of science and literature that a predisposing and decided genius is necessary to perfection. Not only would Mozart have been an indifferent philosopher, Sir Isaac Newton an inferior musician, Milton a bad painter, and Raphael a second-rate poet; but who can doubt that Birch was intended by Nature to make mock-turtle soup, Colinet to play quadrilles, and Matthews to exercise the risible muscles of his fellow countrymen? As to the latter, when he first popped his droll face into the world, the doctor and the nurse must have held their sides at the sight of it, and laughed by anticipation at the mouth out of which it is agreeable to the nature of things that nothing but jests should proceed. I am occasionally disposed to yield an assent to Spurzheim's theory, and to believe that the organs of the head irresistibly impel us to peculiar pursuits; and so strong is this tendency, that, if fortune will not assist nature, nature will sometimes overcome fortune. For instance, a lady with a genius for letterwriting writes on without any thing to say; one with the organ of timidity is frightened without sufficient cause, makes a mouse do as well as a lion, and screams at spiders instead of scorpions; and another, precluded by birth from exercising her histrionic talents upon a stage, acts a part all her life long, and only assumes her real character in the retirement of her closet, and in the presence of her waiting-woman. There are instances, however, of woful opposition between the capabilities and the destinies of men. Wood was never designed for an orator, nor Lord Thurlow for a poet; how many peers were intended for hackney-coachmen; how many ladies for milliners; how many quadrille-dancers would have found their proper station on the opera-stage, and how many useless M.P.s would have made excellent men-cooks. I have seen gentlewomen, who proved by their delight in unnecessarily performing half the work of the house, that nature had designed them for housemaids; and young ladies who, with time and money at command, endeavoured, by voluntarily slaving from morning till night at worked flounces and lace-veils, to accomplish their real destiny, and be sempstresses in spite of fate. In the lower orders of life these things are doubtless the same: men with a genius for dressing hair are sometimes compelled to drive stage-coaches, the latent capabilities of a man-mercer are concealed under a coal heaver's hat; and they who might have rivalled Hoby and Thomas in the profession of Crispin, are perhaps at this moment wasting their energies upon baking bad bread, or making razors that will not cut. Happy he whose tailor is a genius; thrice happy she who buys her silks and gauzes of an inspired shopman. Go to Flint's with your wife or sister, and, instead of scolding her for delay, abusing shops and shopping, fashions, and flounces, dress and dressers, tapping your stick incessantly on the ground, looking at your watch every three minutes, and interrupting by your impatience and complaints a pending decision between a gros de Naples and a Zephyreene, amuse yourself by watching the countenance and manner of the numerous shopmen and shopwomen, and endeavour to discover which among them were intended by nature to serve customers at Grafton-House. Civil and patient as the generality may be, a look of abstraction, an air of languor may be observed in their eyes and demeanour, proving that their whole soul is not engrossed by their occupation, and that necessity, not taste, has placed them at the counter. How different he who is acting in his proper sphere, and whose genius delights to expatiate amidst the multitudinous contents of Flint's shelves and warehouses. He is evidently enjoying the labour which others endure. His eagerness never betrays him into confusion, nor his quickness into bustle. Rapido sì, ma rapido con legge." He appears to take a personal interest in every lady's choice; he would not for worlds precipitate the important decision; but affords her ample time to reflect upon the comparative merits of the articles he displays, merits which he has previously stated with great clearness and most amiable impartiality. No caprice disgusts him, no delay wearies him, every shade of every colour, every quality, every texture is cheerfully exhibited, and when the important choice is at length made, when the lady has changed her mind till she is tired of her own indecision, and the decisive snip has precluded further vacillation, he then never fails to stamp her taste with his own humble approval. If not the prettiest, it is the newest, or the cheapest, or the most durable article in the shop, and altogether he may venture to congratulate the purchaser upon her choice. His manner and language, too, are either respectful or familiar, as may best suit the rank or the taste of his customer. To the real gentlewoman he is all deference and humility, says little, and bows often. With her who is lower in mind than in station, and to whose coarse vanity the admiring eye of a shopman can minister, he changes his tone, speaks more familiarly, smiles often, peeps under the bonnet, and appears very much disposed to flirt, and to compliment-" Every one may not venture to wear green, Madam, but with your complexion." Apparently, a fear of offending stops the flattering sentence. There is yet another class of purchasers with whom he is on still more easy terms; he calls them " my dear," hopes their sweetheart is well, advises them to trim their bonnet with love, and begs they will purchase their wedding-gown of him. How happy is a man of this description compared with the unfortunate wight who is tied to a business for which he has no taste, and to whom every difficulty seems formidable, every inconvenience a distress. I received a short time since a letter from an old female-servant of my father, who, after residing many years in our family as cook and housekeeper, was induced, on receiving a legacy of four hundred pounds, to set up a circulating library in a village not far from London. Her own inclinations had been decidedly directed towards the business of a pastry-cook, but some of her acquaintance persuaded her that the occupation of a librarian was much more genteel, and, in an evil hour, as appears from the following letter, she yielded to their advice, and exchanged comfort for consequence. HONOURED SIR, I hope my I was very thankful for your kind enquiries after me. master's gout is better, and that you and the rest of the family are well. |