have known in Turkey scores of Comnenuses, of Cantacurzenes, and of Paleologoses, all of whom stoutly asserted that they were the direct descendants of the Imperial families bearing those names. All of them might claim the Grecian sceptre with probably as much right as the gentleman in question. But what would the present Greeks care about a host of needy adventurers who chose to assume names of royalty defunct for ages past? The Greeks, in fact, want no king at all. Gratitude to the three protecting Powers, who had delivered them from their deadly foes, the Turks, had made them cheerfully submit to the choice fixed on Prince Leopold; but they suffered disappointment by his refusal of the sove reignty, and the length of time in which they were left under the power and at the mercy of the Capo d'Istria party, weakened, and in many instances obliterated, the sentiments with which their protectors had inspired them, so that their former habits and impressions resumed their empire. The Greeks would much rather be left to govern themselves, as they best understand their wants; and if, in doing so, they occasionally cut each other's throats, they alone would be the sufferers. Civilization is making rapid strides among them, and its influence will introduce order, regularity, and good government, in a much surer way in Greece than all that her protectors think they can devise for her advantage. The Greeks would again become, if not a great, at least a very remarkable people, if left alone. THE EDDYSTONE LIGHT-HOUSE. THE care of this important beacon is committed to four men, two of whom take the charge of it by turns, and are relieved every six weeks. But as it often happens, especially in stormy weather, that boats cannot touch at the Eddystone for many months, a proper quantity of salt provision is always laid up, as in a ship victualled for a long voyage. In high winds, such a briny atmosphere surrounds this gloomy solitude, from the dashing of the waves, that a man exposed to it could not draw his breath. At these dreadful intervals, the two forlorn inhabitants keep close quarters, and are obliged to live in darkness and stench; listening to the howling storm, excluded in every emergency, from the least hope of assis tance, and without any earthly confort, but what is administered from their confidence in the strength of the building in which they are immured. Once, on relieving this forlorn guard, one of the men was found dead, his companion choosing rather to shut himself up with a putrifying carcase, than, by throwing it into the sea, to incur the suspicion of murder. In fine weather, these wretched beings just scramble a little about the edge of the rock, when the tide ebbs, and amuse themselves with fishing; which is the only employment they have, except that of trimming their nightly fires. Such total inaction and entire seclusion from all the joys and aids of society, can only be endured by great religious philosophy, which we cannot imagine they feel; or by great stupidity, which in pity we must suppose they possess. Yet, though this wretched community is so small, we are assured it has sometimes been a scene of misanthropy. Instead of suffering the recollection of those distresses and dangers in which each is deserted by all but one, to endear that one to him, we were informed the humours of each were so soured, that they preyed both on themselves, and on each other. If one sat above, the other was commonly found below. Their meals, too, were solitary; each, like a brute, growling over his food alone. The emolument of this arduous post is twenty pounds a year, and provisions while on duty. The house to live in may be fairly thrown into the bargain. The whole together is, perhaps, one of the least eligible pieces of preferment in Britain; and yet, from a story, which Mr. Smeaton relates, it appears there are stations still more ineligible. A fellow who got a livelihood by making leathern pipes for engines, grew tired of sitting constantly at work, and solicited a light-house man's place, which, as competitors are not numerous, he obtained." As the Eddystone boat was carrying him to take possession of his habitation, one of the boatmen asked him, what could tempt him to give up a profitable business, to be shut up for months together in a pillar? "Why," said the man, "because I did not like confinement!" IMMORTALITY OF THE OTAHEITIANS. THE following account of the people of Otaheite presents a strong contrast to the assertions] of some of the Evan gelical magazines, respecting the benefits of missionary preaching. If it may be relied on, it is certainly a gloomy and discouraging picture. We fear that, unlike many accounts which have reached England, respecting the labours of the missionaries, many of which have subsequently been proved to be false-this relation is strictly true. It is a remarkable fact, that our Saxon ancestors were an honest and upright people, until converted to Christianity, when murders, robberies, and every description of impiety were committed by all ranks; honour and good faith were cast to the winds; the Saxon princes perpetrated many frightful crimes, and then entered a monastery, as if to shun the scorn and contempt of even their vicious age. Let it not be supposed that we are attempting to deny or disprove the benefits which might result from the introduction of the Christian religion into any country; but we have always been of opinion, that it is a wild, a preposterous and an impious thing, to endeavour to plant a belief in the mind of an untutored savage, without submitting him to previous instruction. Our Yankee brethren make this a subject of jest and ridicule, but it is really no laughing matter. Who could hear the vulgar mouthings of an illiterate negro, as he descants on a text which he does not rightly understand, without feelings of disgust and abhorrence? The subjoined is the extract alluded to, which is taken from a recent number of the Manchester Guardian. "The following is an extract from a letter very recently received from Elijah Armitage, who went as a missionary from this town about ten years ago. The accuracy of the account may be fully relied on, from his perfect knowledge of the people, and his well-known fidelity. It is dated Eismeo, South Seas, Nov. 10, 1831 :-'With respect to myself, and the work in which I am engaged, I know not how to give you a just description of the character of the people among whom I labour. You have heard a great deal from the Magazines, &c. which 1 think the individuals who wrote them should be ashamed of, unless they were quite ignorant of matters here. I know not a better comparison of the people than that of a child that has been kept out of the way of temptation for fear of being led astray; but this care and kindnesa does not change the heart, which is watching for every opportunity to turn out of the path of virtue, when an opportunity offers. Such is the case here; for, after it was discovered that certain plants, growing in abundance here, would produce spirits, the inhabitants eagerly made them, and drank to excess. In order to prevent serious political and other consequences, a law was made that any person making wine or spirits should be banished, and his goods forfeited. This did not lessen the desire of spirits, but rather increased it. The evil is further increased by most vessels bringing the most poisonous liquors, and taking away the little valuable property, and leaving the people far worse than they were. I assure you there are very few indeed, either in Church or State, but are given up to drunkenness, and make themselves beasts. Thieving is become a growing evil. I do not think that many of the inhabitants have any correct views of moral evil. They will readily confess it to be wrong, but very few of them will abstain from it if they think it can be concealed With respect to the manufactory, I fear but little good will be done, as the wants of the people are so few, and their indolence so great.Pride, however, is creeping in very fast, and will bring a number of wants with it; and God is able to overrule even this for good. The preaching of the missionaries does not seem to make impression, or awaken lively feelings, as with you. Persons are in and out of the place of worship just as frequently as they please. The example of wicked Europeans has had a bad effect on their bad hearts; so that it is hard work even to attempt to do them good," &c. A. M. TEMPERAMENT OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. THE malady to which the English are particularly subject, and the name of which has passed into every European language, the Spleen, arises, I have no doubt, from the double influence of diet and climate. Ask our old friend, Montaigne, how much the continual appearance of a cloudy atmosphere disposes the mind and the imagination to sorrow and low spirits. The desire, the anxiety, to get rid of this heaviness, make the English have recourse to several means, all of which are attended by bad effects. In the first place, they drink a great quantity of tea. This beverage facilitates digestion, it agitates and dissolves the humours; but it ex cites perspiration, and, on this account, it contributes to relax the whole nervous system. A still more pernicious plan is the immoderate use of strong wines and ardent spirits. Gin and brandy are the punch of the lower people; and even women of this class are not less addicted to drinking than the men. Combining all these meteorological and dietetic observations, I think we can understand why the English cha racter is more slow, more deliberate, more restless, more sombre than ours; why the Englishman's actions are more rapid, if movement be required-more steady, unless under excitement; why his gaiety is less natural, more rare, and more convulsive, with less levity and more firmness; why he is more alive to feeling, less communicative, but more to be relied upon. When the Englishman is active, his action is calculated reflection: his moments of folly and gaiety seem to approach intoxication, and, more or less, resemble an attack of fever. Mirabeau's Letters. CAPTIVITY AMONG THE INDIANS. THE following account is extracted from one of our daily papers. Were De Foe alive, he would probably give us a novel founded on the adventures of this unfortunate man, whose situation must excite the commiseration of every feeling mind. "Information has reached Sydney of the existence of a young man named Matthews, who was captured about three years ago, by the natives of an island called Malanta, near the New Hebrides, in the South Seas. It may be recollected that about the time mentioned, the Alfred, whaler, was off that island fishing; and, in a dispute between the natives and the crew, the Captain and several hands were murdered, and a mate (the person now discovered) was carried off a prisoner, and never since heard of. The manner in which this unfortunate young man has at last made himself known was by cutting his name, the particulars of his capture, and his present situation (which he represents as miserable), on a piece of bamboo, and then giving it to the natives to trade with. Not understanding the characters, and supposing the bamboo to be an original piece of tattoo workmanship, they bartered it away amongst other things to one of our colonial whaling captains (Captain Harwood of the Hashmy) who retains it in his possession. We are informed that a humane attempt will be made to purchase this unhappy fellow from the savages." Since the above was written, the schooner New Zealander has arrived in Sydney, from Malanta, and other places, and brings up more particulars of the fate of Matthews. Captain Hedges has in his possession a letter, and a carved cocoa-nut, which were brought on board the New Zealander by a native, from their prisoner, the subject of this narrative. The following is a literal copy of the letter: 'Sir,-Be kind to the natives, as my life is in their hands. I am alive, after a long illness from the wounds I received. Write to me the particulars if a ship killed any of the natives on the other side of the island. They say our ship killed three men. They keep me close, and will not let me come near the ship. Make him a present of something showy;-his name is Bolowwa. If you will send me a shirt and a pair of trowsers, I will be much obliged to you; I am in a state of nature. A ship may get a good supply on this island, by making friends with them. Give the men something to eat, as it is great friendship with them. Write to me the particulars what ships are cruising off this island. I live on the North Side of the island. Be careful of the natives they are forming a plan to take a ship. Do not come on shore without fire arms. They are cannibals. If I can once get a note from you, I can form a plan to get away. I am, your humble servant, Table Talk. The FONDNESS FOR CHILDREN, generally denotes not only a kind heart, but a guileless one. A knave always detests children their innocent looks and open brow, speak daggers to his heart. He sees his own villany reflected from their countenance, as it were from a mirror. Always mark that man or woman who avoids children. great and good have always been remarkable for their fondness of children. Agesilaus, king of Sparta, was the most generous of monarchs, and the most tender of fathers. Diverting himself one day with riding on a stick with his children, and being surprised in the action by a gentleman, he desired him not to mention it till he was a father. THE late Hon. Henry Erskine, whose talents at the bar and in society were eminent, met his acquaintance, Jemmy Balfour, a barrister, who dealt greatly in hard words, and circumlocutious sentences. Perceiving that his ancle was tied up with a silk handkerchief, the former asked the cause. "Why, my dear sir," answered the wordy lawyer, "I was taking a rural, romantic ramble in my brother's grounds, when coming to a gate I had to climb over it, by which I came in contact with the first bar, and having grazed the epidermis on my shin, it was attended with a slight extravasation of blood."-"You may thank your lucky stars," replied Mr. Erskine," that your brother's gate was not as lofty as your style, or you must have broken your neck." A CLEAR sky is a novelty in this city (London) which makes one forget every other; and a stranger cannot fail to remark the extraordinary interest excited in all classes on the appearance of a fine day, "What beautiful weather! What a lovely morning!" is heard on all sides. Mirabeau's Letters, THE HARBOUR OF NEW YORK.-"I have never," says Mrs. Trollope, "seen the bay of Naples, I can therefore make no comparison, but my imagination is incapable of conceiving any thing of the kind more beautiful than the harbour of New York. Various and lovely are the objects which the eye meet on every side, but the naming them would only be to give a list of words, without conveying the faintest idea of the scene. I doubt if ever the pencil of Turner could do it justice, bright and glorious Diary and Tuesday, July 3. July 3-Dog-days begin, and on the 11th of August they end. These days were named from Sirius, the Dog-star, because when the sun had passed this great star, it was thought to have its heat increased. The sun passes every star later in each succeeding year; but, without regard to this, the dog days are now properly made sta. tionary to the hottest time of the year, as they happened formerly. as it rose upon us. We seemed to enter the harbour of New York upon waves of liquid gold, and as we darted past the green isles which rise from its bosom, like guardian centinels of the fair city, the setting sun stretched his horizontal beams farther and farther at each moment, as if to point out to us some new glory in the landscape.New York, indeed, appeared to us, even when we saw it by a soberer light, a lovely and a noble city. To us, who had been so long travelling through half-cleared forests, and sojourning among an 'I'm-as-good-asyou' population, it seemed, perhaps, more beautiful, more splendid, and more refined than it might have done, had we arrived there directly from London; but, making every allowance for this, I must still declare that I think New York one of the finest cities I ever saw, and as much superior to every other in the Union (Philadelphia not excepted) as London to Liverpool, or Paris to Rouen. Its advantages of position are, perhaps, unequalled any where. Situated on an island, which I think it will one day cover, it rises, like Venice, from the sea, and like that fairest of cities, in the days of her all the riches of the earth." glory, receives into its lap tribute of DEATH OF General WoLFE.-The fall of Wolfe was noble indeed. He received a wound in the head, but covered it from his soldiers with his handkerchief. A second ball struck him in the belly: that too he dissembled. A third hitting him in the breast, he sunk under the anguish, and was carried behind the ranks. Yet, fast as life ebbed out, his whole anxiety centered on the fortune of the day. He begged to be borne nearer to the action; but his sight being dimmed by the approach of death, he entreated to be told what they who supported him saw. He was answered, that the enemy gave ground. He eagerly repeated the question-heard the enemy was totally routed-cried, "I am satisfied!"—and expired. Illustrated Article. to set foot therein, used to be plagued and tormented in a thousand different OLD STORIES OF THE RHINE ways, and many among them CASTLES. By Roger Calverley. FOR THE OLIO. THE VALE OF THE PHANTOMS. A STORY OF THE RHEINGAU. Nor wizard stern, nor goblin grim, SIR W. SCOTT. Bridal of Triermain. BEHIND Lorich there is a wild and melancholy vale, where there are only a few miserable cabins, and whose title corresponds with its desolate appearance; it is called the Wisperthal, or Vale of Phantoms. It has remained for a long time uninhabited; for most of those who had ventured VOL. IX. never seen or heard of more. were A long time ago, three young sparks traversed the environs of the Rhine in search of adventures. They were the sons of three wealthy merchants at Nuremberg. At the inn at Lorich they heard talk of divers extraordinary things that happened in the Wisperthal, and they resolved immediately to make an excursion thither. It was not without difficulty that they succeeded in opening themselves a way through the tangled thickets; and in about an hour they arrived at the foot of an enormous castle, which had almost the air of a mountain moulded into a baronial mansion. Spenser thus describes such a pile : A stately palace built of squared brick, Which cunningly was, without mortar, laid; Whose walls were high, but nothing strong or thick, And golden foile all over them displaid, That purest sky with brightness they disHie lifted up were many loftie towres, maid. And goodly galleries far overlaid, Full of faire windows, and delightful bowres; And, on the top, a diall told the timely how res. 249 |