his mental optics--but she never appeared in a tangible | Then leave me, youth, leave me; through life's flowery form. Without her essential presence, all the world beside was to him as a blank---a wilderness. Madness invariably takes possession of the mind which broods over-much or over-long upon some engrossing idea. So did it prove with this singular lover. He grew innocent, as the people of this country tenderly phrase it. His insanity, however, was little more than mere abstraction. The course of his mind was stopped at a particular point. After this he made no further progress in any intellectual attainment. He acquired no new ideas. His whole soul stood still. He was like a clock stopped at a particular hour, with some things, too, about him, which, like the motionless indices of that machine, pointed out the date of the interruption. As, for instance, he ever after wore a peculiarly long-backed and high-necked coat, as well as a neckcloth of a particular spot---being the fashion of the year when he saw the lady. Indeed, he was a sort of living memorial of the dress, gait, and manners of a former day. It was evident that he clung with a degree of fondness to every thing which bore relation to the great incident of his life. Nor could he endure any thing that tended to cover up or screen from his recollection that glorious yet melancholy circumstance. He had the same feeling of veneration for that day---that circumstance---and for himself, as he then existed---which caused the chivalrous lover of former times to preserve upon his lips, as long as he could, the imaginary delight which they had drawn from the touch of his mistress's hand. When I last saw this unfortunate person, he was getting old, and seemed still more deranged than formerly. Every female whom he met on the street, especially if at all good looking, he gazed at with an enquiring, anxious expression; and when she had passed, he usually stood still a few moments and mused, with his eyes cast upon the ground. It was remarkable, that he gazed most anxiously upon women whose age and figures most nearly resembled that of his unknown mistress at the time he had seen her, and that he did not appear to make allowance for the years which had passed since his eyes met that vision. This was part of his madness. Strange power of love! Incomprehensible mechanism of the human heart! Alexander Maclaggan, of whose poetical capabilities we still continue to think highly, has been already introduced to our readers. They will not be displeased to meet with another recent production by him, especially one possessing so much merit as the following: SONG. By Alexander Maclaggan. "Now tell me, sweet Mary! our gay village pride, "I ken, gentle youth! that a' nature looks braw in It has fa'en, puir thing, and ne'er miss't frae the tree; My sleep is for aye, when I next close my ee; "I ken they look fair, every rose on yon thorn, Wi' the innocent wee buds just opening their een; lawn, Go seek out a maiden more fitting for thee; Oh! what wad ye do wi' a weak trembling han', And a poor broken heart, that maun lie down and dee?" A poem, entitled, " And art thou False," in the last EDITOR IN HIS SLIPPERS, will probably be recollected, because it was a powerful and original composition. We subjoin another by the same author: THE RINGLET. I tear thy ringlet from my breast, For many years, with anxious care, O God! the hour is present now, 'Tis through my memory rushing--- The hour, the place, the fond confession, By torturing memory's whirlwind passion. Else had I never known this sadness; That urged my brain, my soul, to madness! I know not what I write ;---nor why! Futurity untimely wither'd. O! was it not enough for me--- Beneath a world of misery sinking,--- Had these and hate and envy borne, The scenes of love and youthful dreaming, By crystall'd rills through woodlands streaming- Loved one, I shall ne'er upbraid thee; And with it all thy vows I sever; There is a mixture of the comic and the sad in the following Scotch ballad, which pleases us : THE LAIRD'S BRIDE. The laird cam' hame wi' his braw young bride, An' wow but she was a blythesome queen Her bosom, that keek't through the silken gause, The tresses that flew round her lightsome brow An' wow but the fiddlers play'd bonny an' sweet, For she strack ilka note wi' her wee fairy feet, I wat but the laird was a buirdly chiel', Sae strappin' an' straught to the sight; as a colt, he is a civil fellow; so are they a', a' civil fellows. Tom Spring might fill the office o' the late Beau Nash. He is a beautiful out fighter, but is completely out at a close or a wind up. Little Dick Curtis spars exquisitely, and stops to admiration; he is sharp as a needle, an' sound as a prin, which is a rare thing to be met wi', since the ring was deprived o' the services o' Jackson an' Belcher. I had a set-to with Big Brown, he being the only man o' my weight present. Brown boxes like a bullock, without skill or caution, and reminds ane o' Josh Hudson, an' Leadenhall market. Throughout, the sport was excellent, an' I wad very willingly enter into particulars, were it not that ye may think me gaun to the deevil, as boxing north the Tweed is considered the brother o' blackguardism. But I maun say that's cutting before the point. I dinna deny but some o' the professional men are low, pitiful blackguards; but this rests wi' the men, not the profession. Wi' a few exceptions, the sporting-houses are among the most respectable in London. There ye will find officers o' the army an' navy, gentlemen legal an' medical, monied men an' landed proprietors, editors an' authors. They patronise the arts more than any other, (that is, in their ain line,) An' he flung through the reel, wi' his winsome bride, including portraits o' the Fancy-races an' racers-pheaAs swift as a flash o' light. Alack, sma' cause hae we to be crouse O' aught in this flickerin' warl'; An' far less cause has mortal man Anent aught earthly to quarrel. For, wae an' alack! that bonny young bride, Lay cauld an' stiff by her bridegroom's side, An' the guests that cam' to the bridal ha', An' the laird dwined awa like the melting snaw An' lang before twa weeks were ower, An oft, as I gaze on that mouldering ha', The naïve, yet shrewd, manner in which our friend Dr M'Donald (heretofore quoted on the subject of Edward Irving and Fletcher) describes many of the sights of London, has found much favour in our eyes. We give another amusing specimen of his epistolary style: THE GENTLEMEN OF THE FANCY. (Extract of a Letter from Dr M'Donald to a Friend in Scotland.) I went to Harry Holt's the other day, and was ushered into the presence o' the assembled Fancy, where Alec Reid, the Chelsea snob, presided as master o' the ceremonies. The round an' athletic forms o' Jem Ward and Tom Spring attracted my admiration. The former, who is the present champion, is what may be termed a hardup cove,—that is, he is generally a tailor's day's work behind his brethren in point o' toggery. An' that, let me tell you, makes a deevilish lang day's drawback upon better men than boxers; the best shape looks flabby, the sternest eye looks to the ground,-an' the straightest back stoops. But to proceed, Jem is undoubtedly the first pugilist in the ring, wi' an excellent bottom; but, from the warst o' motives-the white feather has been visible-he is not a good man. His up stroke is terrible; it is peculiar to him an' Harry Jones; an' though he is ignorant car sants-cocks-rabbits-pigeons---dogs---I had almost said We happen to have in our possession the original copy, written in his own hand, (a good strong hand,) of the following lines by Robert Pollok, author of "The Course of Time." We believe they have already appeared in a Glasgow publication, but it is perhaps worth while reprinting them here, as a literary relic of a man of genius: LINES, By Robert Pollok, Author of " The Course of Time." All lovely on its native stalk, That strew'd it on my evening walk. So, when the morn of life awoke, My hopes sat bright on fancy's bloom, That laid them in my Helen's tomb. Watch there, my hopes,-watch Helen sleep,— At dewy eve by Helen's grave. There is a racy antique humour about the following Sonnet, which we like. It comes to us from the banks of the Clyde, where the Clyde is a frith: A SONNET OF THE OLD SCHOOL. A knychte beneath hys ladye's tour ystode, The moone schone bryghte, and swotely thus song hee: Harke to the lark on mornynge's cresset syngin',- Mochte they not melt thy stony herte in thee?" Or as a beme from a derke cloud you see,— She threw the lattice wyde, and thus said shee,— "Goode manne! I wish thie herpe was atte the Divill! Go home to bedde !"--which was not very civill. At the battle of Sheriff-Muir, somebody called out, "O! for one hour of Dundee !" We shall give our readers just five minutes of Dundee, in the shape of some good, spirited stanzas, which come from that town, and are written by a gentleman who signs himself " F.” A GREEK SAILOR'S WAR SONG. My gallant ship! again-again in freedom shalt thou bound, Once more upon the trembling main thy thunders shall resound; And heroes from thy boards shall leap on the red deck of the foe, When the grappling fight is ship to ship, and sabres deal the blow. We will wipe out the slavish stain our race has borne so long, And Salamis' blue waves shall sweep as proudly as of yore! The slumber of a summer night is about to steal upon us, yet, before we sleep, we have a serious word to say. Let it not enter the imagination of any one, that it is a light and easy matter to secure an introduction to the EDITOR IN HIS SLIPPERS. Solemnly do we declare, that we look upon it as the highest compliment which can be paid to any living author. Our selections upon the present occasion have exceeded our usual limits, not because we have been one iota less scrupulous in our choice, but because, after laying aside whole cart-loads of dross, we still found that communications had poured in so thick upon us, we had an embarras de richesses to contend with. The day may yet come, when men shall tell it to their children, and to their children's children, that the Great EDITOR IN HIS SLIPPERS, HE who never looked either to the right or to the left, but straight on in pursuit of genius, spoke kindly of some one of their productions, and handed it down to posterity along with his own timehonoured name. That day may yet come!--we see it bursting through the far futurity ;--" think on't,---dream on't." ORIGINAL POETRY. A SUMMER EVENING DREAM. ONE bright summer day, in my own native bowers, And she press'd to her red lips her delicate hand, ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. In a world far brighter and better than this! Mr D. M. Moir, Surgeon, Musselburgh, is preparing for publiention a medico-popular treatise on the Diseases and Dietetic Manage breast-ment of Children; with an appendix on the culture of the infant mind, and the relative excellences and defects of the various systems of education now in use. Ah! beautiful babe! may thy heart's pure love LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES. MR BUCKINGHAM'S LECTURES. This gentleman's Lectures, which commenced on Monday last, and have continued every evening during the week, appear to be exciting much interest, and giving great satisfaction, in this city. We are, for our own part, heartily disposed to approve of the favourable impression which he has made. We have heard him with no common degree of pleasure; and consi. der ourselves called upon to declare, that we were never before in possession of such vivid and accurate notions of all that is remarkable in the countries he undertakes to describe, as those with which we have been supplied by him. Egypt, Arabia, Palestine, Mesopotamia, and Persia, have been successively delineated, with all their wonders, both of art and nature, in a manner which makes us now feel comparatively at home upon these subjects. Numerous circumstances concur in recommending Mr Buckingham's Lectures to the public, viewing them merely in a literary and popular point of view, and altogether apart from the grand national question with which, however, they are all more or less connected. In the first place, Mr Buckingham has himself been in the countries of which he treats, and has seen with his own eyes every thing he describes. If he speaks of the Pyramids, he has stood on their top; if of the Nile, he has bathed in its waters; if of Mecca, he has made the pilgrimage to the holy shrine; if of Palmyra, he has been among its ruins. In the second place, information conveyed orally has a great advantage over that which comes to us through the medium of books. It is amazing how much the looks and gestures of the speaker contribute to give distinctness and graphic force to the pictures he attempts to sketch. A book is the best substitute we can have for its author, but it is only a substitute. Mr Buckingham is both the book and the author in one, and the effect produced is therefore doubled. In the third place, Mr Buckingham's manner is exceedingly prepossessing and agreeable. One sees at once that he is a gentleman, and entitled to respect as well as to attention. He is a man apparently fully past middle life, but hale and active, with an intelligent and pleasant expression of countenance, and with a modest but energetic and business-like mode of delivery, which effectually prevents the minds of his audience from wandering. In addition to all this, he is excellently skilled in the art of pleasing a popular assembly, by intermixing with his graver and more important matter a number of light and amusing stories. On the whole, we can safely say, that we know of no way in which a body of really substantial and useful knowledge may be more easily and effectually attained than by attending a course of Mr Buckingham's Lectures. So much does this seem to be also the opinion of the inhabitants of Edinburgh, that he has found it necessary to desert the Hopetoun Rooms for the still larger hall in the Waterloo Hotel, where he is to lecture upon India, this day, and on Monday, at one o'clock. These two lectures will not be purely commercial, but will embrace a great variety of interesting facts respecting the institutions of the country and the condition of the people, which are as deserving the attention of ladies and professional gentlemen as of commercial men. On Tuesday and Wednesday, Mr Buckingham will lecture in Leith, and on Thursday he leaves Edinburgh, on a pretty extensive tour, in the course of which he will stop at the following towns in their order, in all of which he will deliver lectures,-Dundec-Aberdeen-Inverness-Glasgow-Paisley-Carlisle-and thence back to London, through the middle districts of England. Mr Hood, the Author of Whims and Oddities, has a new work in the press, entitled, Epping Hunt. It describes the adventures of a worthy citizen who joins the hunt, and is to be illustrated with several engravings on wood, after the designs of George Cruikshank. We understand that Mr Hood has also a comedy in preparation for next season. Mr John Parker Lawson, Author of the Life and Times of Archbishop Laud, is preparing for publication the Life of Samuel Horsley, LL.D., late Lord Bishop of St Asaph, in one volume 8vo. In this work there will be much interesting matter connected with the public characters of last century, both in church and state. Dr Macnish, the Author of the Anatomy of Drunkenness, is preparing a new work, to be entitled, The Philosophy of Sleep. Mr Galt is preparing for publication a work on the present state and prospects of the settlements in Upper Canada. We have received a copy of a new edition, just published at Pais ley, of the Memoir of the Rev. Pliny Flisk, late Missionary to Pales tine, with a Preface and Notes, by the Rev. Robert Burns, D.D. We noticed the Edinburgh edition of this work some time ago. Pelham, the Disowned, and Almack's Revisited, have been translated into German, and published at Aix-la-Chapelle. A complete edition of the works of Moliere has been published in the Polish language. Mr Kendal is preparing for publication a full and illustrated statement of his hypothesis, that the circulation in the sea is analagous to the circulation of the blood. Memoirs of the Life and Works of George Romney, the celebrated painter, by his son, the Reverend John Romney, B.D., is in the press. PLAGIARISM. (From a Correspondent.)-In the number of the Monthly Magazine for the present month, there occurs the following egregious blunder at the conclusion of a review of the "Life and Services of Captain Beaver." "Among the documents which are collected at the end of the volume, is a single ballad, written by Captain Beaver at the age of fifteen. It has enough of lyrical ease to prove that, if he had cultivated the art, he might have succeeded; and as a song of the sea, by a sailor, it is a curiosity." They then quote the well-known song, slightly altered from the original, Up in the wind, three leagues or more," which all the world (excepting the biographer of Beaver, and the reviewer) is aware was written by Richard Cumberland, the celebrated dramatist, after the action between the Milford frigate, and the Due de Coigny, fought 10th May, 1780, in which frigate Cumberland sailed on a mission to Lisbon for the British Government, and an account of which he details in the first volume of his amusing memoirs, along with a copy of the song above alluded to; yet this very song is copied by two wiseacres as the production of Captain Beaver at the age of fifteen! This is as bad as the oft-repeated blunder about the lines on the Bible, spoken by the White Lady of Avenel, in the "Monastery," but which have been (in spite of all that has been said in contradiction) inserted in every collection of sacred and serious poetry for the last half-dozen years, with the Signature of Lord Byron eternally appended to the right-hand corner of the said lines! Theatrical Gossip.-The season of the Italian Opera, or King's Theatre, is drawing towards a close. Laporte, the manager, has already commenced preparations for his next campaign. To his present strength, which consists principally of Malibran, Sontag, Pisaroni, Mlle. Blasis, Donzells, and Curioni, he proposes to add Lalande, the celebrated prima donna of Naples and Milan, and Lablaiche, an equally famous bass singer. Pasta, Velluti, and De Begnis, seem to be keeping aloof from the Opera at present. Caradori, it is said, is about to visit Italy for a few months.-A new Opera, by Rossini, called William Tell," is to be produced speedily at Paris-Miss Paton has been singing at the Ipswich Theatre.-Wallack has just who is said to be an excellent actor, especially in Irish characters.— returned from America, and is accompanied by a younger brother, The managing committee of Drury-lane are stated to have agreed to a considerable reduction in the rent to the lessee next year, so inadequate have been the profits of the season, notwithstanding the success of the pieces produced. It is also reported, that Mr Price, having failed to prevail on the committee to proceed against Elliston, for performing regular plays at the Surrey, has resolved to undertake the prosecution himself.-The Caledonian Theatre here continues to be respectably attended, and we should suppose is paying. TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS. SEVERAL Reviews of new and interesting works are unavoidably postponed. The interesting account of the Ayrshire Sculptor's recent works will appear in our next. We are afraid that " Woman's Love-A Sketch," by " J. C." will not suit us." Theta's" communication from London is deficient in novelty of information.-"J. H." does not entertain the same opinion that we do of the compositions to which he alludes.-We shall endeavour to find time to reply to the letter regarding the autographs. We hope to find a place for the poem by Dugald Moore of Glasgow." The Mountain Cairn" is more prosaic than its author's former contributions.-We cannot give " P. M." of Aberdeen any great encouragement.-The Lines by "R. K."—" J. G. M."-and "R. B. W." of Glasgow, will not suit us.-The Lines from the German of Heine are in types. LITERARY CRITICISM. Illustrations of Ornithology. By Sir William Jardine, PRICE 6d. directed to such new groups and new species as have not hitherto been considered either by Cuvier or any other ornithologist; next, such subjects are given as have been described, but not figured; next, those which have been hitherto incorrectly represented, or whose variations in plumage, arising from age, sex, or climate, have not been particularized; and lastly, as the work is meant to comprehend the whole of this department of Zoology, all the remaining species are presented, whether they have been described and figured before or not. they are the companions of the sunbeams, and find their sport under the arch of the rainbow,-they forever sing their glad songs round the car of summer, and leave behind them the duller seasons to beings, who, unlike them, are chained to one spot of earth. There is something noble and beautiful in their existence. The immortal soul of man is likened to a bird. The living evidence which they afford of that which is visible and material, being able to mingle with what is invisible, and, if not immaterial, at least ethereal, is finely calculated to typify our own nature, so strangely compounded of what is earthly with what is heavenly. THIS is a splendid work, and ought to be considered a national one. To Sir William Jardine and Mr Selby, the ornithologists of Great Britain are more indebted than to any other individuals who have ever undertaken We have long been of opinion, that a sufficient degree to illustrate this most delightful department of Zoology. of curiosity regarding the feathered people of the air does They have rescued an important branch of natural his- not exist, neither among persons of professed scientific tory from the neglect into which it was falling in this habits, nor the more general enquirers into all that is recountry; and, by the time they have finished their un- markable in the diversified works of creation. Of all dertaking, we shall not be afraid to challenge the science living things, birds seem endowed with a nature most of the Continent to produce any work which is in itself a distinct from ours. The wild beasts of the desert dispute more complete ornithological library. Dr Shaw's Zoo- the earth with us; the insects and reptiles live among logy, which embraces this subject, and the General His- our flowers, fruits, shrubs, and vegetables; the tenants of tory of Birds by Dr Latham, are both valuable books; the mighty deep possess an element with which we are but the limited number of plates they contain, and the familiar, and from whose recesses we can drag them at inferior manner in which these are executed, are disad- will. But the birds have their home in the blue ether,vantages of a nature which cannot be overlooked. Be- their path is through regions which man, with all his insides, the genera, according to the ancient nomenclature, genuity, can never reach,--they float in light, far beyond are now found to contain so many hundred species, that our ken, on the sunny side of the distant cloud, that numerous modern subdivisions have become absolutely flings its dark shadow over us,-they cross oceans and necessary, to avoid endless obscurity, and the infliction traverse continents, alike independent of wind and wave, of most unnecessary labour on the student. To the "Illustrations" before us, no such objections can be made. Each Part contains from fifteen to twenty Plates, and these have been drawn and coloured after the very finest specimens to be found in the rich collections of the British Museum, of the University of Edinburgh, of the Linnean Society of London, and of the East India Company, which, together with the greater part of the best private collections throughout the country, have, with becoming liberality, been thrown open to our distinguished naturalists. In many instances, too, living specimens have been obtained, and particular attention has been bestowed on the natural position and character of each subject, although it would, of course, be too much to expect that as great life and animation could be given to them as was infused into his drawings by Audubon, who had spent years in the forest and by the lake, watching the habits and modes of life of their winged inhabitants. This deficiency, however, where it exists, tás amply compensated by the exquisite manner in which the plates are finished, the vivid brilliancy of the colouring, the great accuracy of the drawing, and the beautiful clearness and harmony of the engraving, which, under the superintendence of Mr Lizars, could hardly fail to be of a most finished kind. The letter-press, which is in the most elegant style of typography, includes descriptions of the generic and specific characters of the birds, together with occasional remarks on their nature, habits, and comparative anatomy. We could have wished that these remarks had been more numerous than they are; but, in a strictly scientific work, their frequent introduction was perhaps thought unnecessary. The general arrangement we highly approve of. Our attention is, in the first place, In a popular, though not very scientific, view of the subject, there may be said to be four great divisions among birds, each of which cannot fail to excite a thousand interesting associations. These are, birds of prey, aquatic birds, singing birds, and birds which are neither birds of prey, aquatic birds, nor singing birds, but possess various habits and propensities peculiar to themselves. Of these four classes, the work before us affords many beautiful specimens. A word or two of each. Among birds of prey, the eagle of course comes first. There he sits, far up among the rocks, with an eye like a deep clear pool, in which nothing but the glory of the skies is reflected, glancing, like the poet's, " from earth to heaven," but returning not, like his, to linger on the clay of this lower world,—rejoicing rather to drink in a long draught of sunshine from the fountain of light, and then, as if smitten with a love of that concentrated splendour, soaring upwards with a rush of wings, higher and higher yet, away into the silence and the purity of unoccupied space! There must be something of human passion about that eagle; he is proudly conscious of the boldness of his flight, |