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ment; this enhances the interest and admiration she excites, and in this Miss Addison was to the life the Imogen of the poet. She gave full effect to that famous scene where Iachimo first introduces himself to her, endeavouring to make her doubt the constancy of her husband, and then insinuates his own foul purpose. The contrast between the wife when injured by her husband, and when insulted by another, Miss Addison made most impressive in the following lines:


...... Be revenged;
Or she that bore you, was no queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.



How should I be reveng'd? If this be true,
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true,

How shall I be reveng'd?


Should he make me
Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets;
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,

In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it!
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure;
More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close as sure.


What, ho! Pisano!

Iachimo. Let me my service tender on your lips.
Imogen. Away!—I do condemn mine ears that have
So long attended thee.—If thou wert honourable,
Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek'st; as base as strange.
Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is far

From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains

Thee and the devil alike.-What, ho! Pisanio!-
The king my father shall be made acquainted
Of thy assault; if he shall think it fit,
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart
As in a Romish stew, and to expound
His beastly mind to us-he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all.-What ho, Pisanio!-

The speech of Imogen as she approached, in the youth's dress, the cave of Belarius, was delivered with intense feeling ;


Imogen. I see, a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
But that my resolution helps me.-Milford,
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! think,
Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean,
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me,
I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A puishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder,
When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness
Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood
Is worse in kings, than beggars.-My dear lord!
Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was

At point to sink for food. But what is this?
Here is a path to it: "Tis some savage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine,
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant.
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever
Of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here?
If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage,
Take, or lend.-Ho!-No answer? then I'll enter,
Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy

But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't.
Such a foe, good heavens !

This performance of Cymbeline augurs well for the re-opening of Sadler's Wells. Not alone here, however, but in another quarter of the town, an endeavour is making to restore the superior drama of the English stage. A hitherto obscure theatre in Marylebone has been opened by Mrs. Warner, with much of that attraction which refined taste and real intellect can bestow upon it. At this new place of entertainment, Shakspeare is also in the ascendent. The play chosen is "The Winter's Tale," a beautiful drama, which bears the character and stamp of its mighty author in its whole conception, and in every line of its verse. In this play, Leontes, with his absurd, fierce jealousy, and Hermione, that personification of a devoted gentle wife, borne down by wrongs and sorrow, are the grander and more sombre tints of the painting: Florizel and Perdita―an exceedingly lovely creation of the poet,—with their romantic attachments, fill up the picturesque part; and the lighter touches are admirably worked out in the portraits of Autolycus, a prince among rogues, and of the shepherd and his clownish son. The gloom vividly fronts the gaiety; the dignity, the drollery; and the graceful, the grotesque: by such marks we recognize the work of Shakespeare. There is a certain life infused into the representation of the Winter's Tale at the Marylebone Theatre, which appears in the exertions of the actors employed, which asserts itself in the costumes, which speaks through the appropriate scenery, and which altogether leaves an exhilirating impression on the spectator.

The part of Hermione was excellently sustained by Mrs. Warner. The combination of suavity and queenly dignity, and afterwards of strength in conscious right with physical debility, were most successful. The other actors and actresses were of such tolerable cultivation and power as to render this representation of the Winter's Tale, an interesting and harmonious whole.

The prosperity of Sadler's Wells, and this new success of another theatre belonging to the same intellectual class, give cheering proof that the people of London are never dead to that sense of sublime enjoyment which lies in the works of our mighty Shakespeare. His house at Stratford has just been purchased by a noble association, with the approbation of all England. Oh! may the day be not far distant when his wonders may be restored in their full magnificence to the British stage! It is right that perfection should be always honoured and encouraged. It is fair that the Opera and Jenny Lind, that the French theatre and its admirable acting, should be fostered by a rich and refined population; but, without deteriorating from this, there is quite room enough for a great Shakesperian temple, where such laudable undertakings as those of Mr. Phelps and Mrs. Warner might be carried out to eminent success. M. Jullien has it appears become the lessee of Drury Lane Theatre, and announces that "by providing during the year a variety of enter

tainments, and by producing each with the same excellence and completeness which he trusts has characterized his former works, he hopes to secure that approbation and consequent success which will well compensate him for all his labours and anxieties."

Prosperity certainly seems ever to attend M. Jullien's undertakings, and we have no doubt this theatre, under his management, will become a very splendid affair. He opens in October, with a series of his famous concerts, but he promises in December a "Grand Opera" on a new and magnificent scale.



THIS, from its very singularity, is a most interesting panorama. It displays a scene of vastness, of wildness, of natural magnificence that is not to be surpassed in any other part of the world. The artist has wonderfully realised the splendour of the view, and one may, in looking on it, wander at once, in imagination and almost substantially, to this territory of icy horror, and sunny fertility. The book given at the panorama thus graphically describes the Himalaya mountains:

"The Himalaya is a stupendous and magnificent chain of mountains in Asia, extending from the seventy-third degree of east longitude, along the north of Hindostan to the borders of China, separating Hindostan from Tibet and Tartary, and forming the general boundary of Tibet through its whole extent, from Cabul to Upper Assam. This vast chain was the Imaus and Emodus of the ancients, and was sometimes termed the Indian Caucasus; the natives at present call it the Hindoo Koosh, or Indian mountains, as well as Himalaya, a Sanscrit word, signifying snowy. On the side of Hindostan, the central part of the ridge rises rapidly from a level into sharp and precipitous cliffs, far exceeding the Andes in height, whilst the Tibet side falls gradually into green hills, and ends in sloping plains. The mountains, which vary from seventy to one hundred and eighty miles in breadth, run in irregular ridges of every imaginable shape, and are undivided by any valley of consequence from the one plain to the other. The various peaks of the snowy ridge seen, are estimated to be from 16,203 to 25,742 feet in height.

"The mountain from which the present panorama is taken, from its height and situation, commands a most comprehensive view of this vast and fearfully imposing scene-a scene that defies language to convey an adequate idea of, so grand are its colossal proportions, so sublime and glorious its general effect. Towards the north, the immediate foreground is broken by precipitous rocks, rugged cliffs, wooded heights, and cultivated ravines, some of which, two or three thousand feet in depth, have their sides covered with dark forests, where it is impossible to cultivate the soil; but where the ground admits of husbandry, even when the descents are most precipitous, successive lines of terraces ap

pear, like the steps of some magnificent amphitheatre, upon which the produce waves in many colored hues, abundantly irrigated by streamlets, frequently conducted from very remote springs. In many places these terraced fields are carried up to an extraordinary height, even to the very tops of the ranges, in situations apparently inaccessible, and there the effects of the elevation upon the temperature of the atmosphere are strikingly observable from the diversity of tints the produce assumes, the highest being in fresh blade brilliantly green, whilst the lowest is sear and ripe. Many small hamlets and neat houses are dotted about, presenting a look of neatness and comfort; shut out from the world, their inhabitants, if they do not live in peace among themselves, are at least undisturbed by the visits of travellers.

"All around the lower hills spread out in every direction, romantic and picturesque, mountain, plain, and precipice, in ten thousand varied forms, blended by distance, and softened by the various tints of sunshine and shade; shattered peaks, black mural precipices, ravines purple from their depths, and graceful hills covered most luxuriantly with dark cedars, oaks clustered with acorns, and rhododendrons blushing with scarlet bloom. The British station of Soobathoo is seen on one side in an arid plain, and Simla, another station, with the mountain of Jacko on which it is partly built, stands boldly prominent in front. Almost on a level with the spectator are the summits of the Bayree, Daybee, and Kurroll mountains, and rising still higher the Whartoo, Choor, and Sirgool, with their peaks covered with snow, like giants mantled in white, shining brilliantly against the azure depth of the heavens. These, although but mere vassals of the mighty Himalaya, would be the boast of other countries, as they rise from eight to twelve thousand feet perpendicular height.

"In the extreme distance the wide stretching snowy range occupies an immense extent of uninterrupted outline, and fascinates the eye with its huge but aerial sublimity,

"Snow piled on snow, the mass appears,

The gathered winter of ten thousand years."

A wide undulating plain of everlasting snow, from which three mighty peaks, called the Jumnootree, shoot up to an immense altitude; two joined by a ridge being irregular, curiously rugged, and majestically distinct; the third, at some distance, being isolated and black, forming a singular contrast with the hoary desert around. Other immense peaks, probably above the source of the Ganges, are seen towards the east, succeeded again by others, until lost in the vast and boundless distance. Over this forlorn and desolate field of snow, and between the peaks, are the passes which lead into Koonawur and Chinese Tartary, the principal of which, the Shatool, Yoosoo, and Boorendoo passes, although nearly fifty miles distant, being distinctly visible, such is the delicate purity of the atmosphere.

"In the opposite direction towards the south is the beautiful valley of Pinjore, and the verge of sight melting into a line of vapour scarcely to be distinguished from the horizon, is bounded by the Punjab, the glowing plains around Sirhind, the North-West Provinces, the country towards Bengal, and it is said even to the Pir Panjal of Cashmir; the whole like an exquisite map spread out beneath, through which the Sutlej, the Ganges, the Indus, and numerous tributary streams glittering like veins

of silver, are seen winding amongst the fertile plains, until lost in the blue etherial mist of the distance. Dark lines and spots mark towns and villages, and the luridly glaring air over them indicates a burning wind which never reaches this happy mountain region. Altogether the scene is one of sublime magnificence, once seen, never to be forgotten: above, around, beneath, all is on the grandest of Nature's scales-the beautiful, the terrific, fertility and barrenness finely contrasted. On the one side a noble, lovely, and almost boundless prospect, a fairy-like scene, gorgeously glowing under the deep splendour of an Asiatic sky; on the other,

"Nature's bulwark, built by time,
'Gainst eternity to stand,
Mountains terribly sublime,"

which are not to be equalled for extent and height in the whole world, the vastness of which is almost oppressive; yet when some definite idea of their size can be formed, their immensity strikes the mind with awe, whilst the deep and universal repose, and voluptuous tranquillity, so soothing to the senses, leads to their contemplation with silent admiration, unmixed pleasure, and pure natural devotion.


This first barrier of mountains, enormous as it is, peaks of every imaginable shape, varying in height from 16,203 to 25,749 feet, from one to ten thousand feet of which is eternal snow,* is but the screen to other assemblages of higher mountains, which again are still inferior to the world like bulwarks on the left bank of the Indus, from whence they slope to the Steppes of Tartary, and are at length lost in the immeasurable deserts of Cobi, and the deep woods and countless marshes of Siberia, the summits of which ranges have been estimated at the enormous elevation of 30,000 feet, or nearly six miles perpendicular height. A mournful, awful, and barren region, where surrounded by the most gigantic pillars of the universe, sublimity veiled in mystery sits fettered to desolation.

"The immense space occupied by the mountains, varying, as before mentioned, from 70 to 180 miles in breadth, is divided into a number of small states, governed by Rajahs or Ranas, and very thinly populated. Many are independent, others are tributary to Tibet, Nepaul, Cabul, &c. The inhabitants are generally a bold and hardy race—

"Wild warriors of the Turquoise Hills,-and those
Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows

Of Hindoo Koosh, in stormy freedom bred,

Their fort, the rock, their camp, the torrent's bed."

"The hill porters, or Coolies, are celebrated for their great powers of endurance, and the Ghoorca regiments, raised in the Nepaul States, have proved themselves good soldiers, by the effective services they rendered at Sobraon and elsewhere. The women in most parts are good-looking and healthy. The houses are generally placed in picturesque and sheltered situations, and are well built; the severity of the winter, and

* The line of eternal snow in the latitude 30°, 31', in Asia, is fixable at 15,000 feet on the southern or Indian aspect of the Himalaya mountains, and on the northern (not the Tartaric) may be concluded at 14,500; but there are so many conflicting conditions of the question, that no precise boundary can be assigned without an explanation.-G. Gerard's Visit to Shatool, &c.

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