appearance; the garden in which it stands occupies a considerable part of the city; and, contrasted with the surrounding desert, is beautiful; but it is forbidden ground, and Jew or Christian entering within its precinct, must, if discovered, forfeit either his religion or his life. Lately, as a traveller was entering the city, a man snatched part of his luggage from the camel, and fled here for shelter. A few days since a Greek Christian entered the mosque; he was a Turkish subject, and servant to a Turk; he was invited to change his religion, but refused, and was immediately murdered by the mob. His body remained exposed in the street, and a passing Mussulman, kicking up the head, exclaimed--"That is the way I would serve all Christians.” One of the methods of justifying an assault, and of extorting money, is by swearing to have seen a Christian in the mosque, or to have heard him blaspheme the Prophet; and false witnesses to the fact are very readily found. In my ascent up the Mount of Olives, a slave amused himself by pelting me with stones, and, on proceeding to punish him, my attendant called me off from the pursuit, and told me that Blackee would probably swear to have heard me blaspheme the Prophet; and slaves are doubly protected---by the laws, and by their masters.' "The fountain of Siloa is so inconsiderable, and water altogether so scarce, that when my friend, Mr. Grey, inquired the way to it, the person refused to tell him, giving him as a reason---" You will write it in your book, and I vow to God that we shall have no water next year." sume to enter even the court-yard of the temple; I account. As in Greece there is not a remarkable hill without a fable, so in Palestine there is not a cave nor a stone without some historical anecdote from the New Testa ment. The generality of pilgrims to Jerusalem are Greeks; they bring acceptable offerings, and are probably unable to read: and, therefore, the method of the cicerone to make them acquainted with the life of our Saviour is commendable; even the Old Testament is not forgotten, though Titus is the pool of Beersheba and David's Tower are still pointed out to believing pilgrims. There has been but little variation in enumerating the objects of curiosity for the last two hundred years, whether in Latin, Italian, French, or English Quaresmius is the most copious and correct, old Maundrell the most unaffected, and Chateaubriand the most enthusiastic. The best description of the town is by Jeremiah. The group is last honours to the loved remains. The exordium deserves particular notice. It is sublimely abrupt. A truly poetical spirit rushes at once into the subject. It is left to minor poets to describe the time and place with a certainty sufficient for the precision of judicial proceedings. The greater bard stops not, as it were, to knock at the door, and formally demand admittance, but throws himself alertly through the window, and presents himself sans cérémonie, before his astonished audience. It appears that the groans of the feathered hero have hurried his alarmed companions to witness the melancholy confirmation of their apprehensions. The vile assassin, too much absorbed in the gratification of his diabolical vengeance to consult the means of safety, is found near the fatal spot, feasting his eyes with the sufferings of his victim. The poet here takes occasion to display the force of contrast. The murderer-surroundeddesperate-avows the deed with a degree of horrible exultation, that serves admirably to heighten the effect produced by the sympathy of the spectators : Who killed Cock Robin? Not content with this callous confession, he dwells with delight on the act, and triumphantly shows the instruments of vengeance :— I (says the Sparrow) The purposes of contrast being thus attained, we are not hurt by any further exhibition of the monster, and imaginationt hurries him away to ignominy and tor tures. The tomb of David is held in great respect by the Turks, and to swear by it is one of their most sacred oaths. The tomb of the Kings is an inconsiderable excavation in the rock three small chambers, in which are receptacles for the coffins; the lid of a sareophagus, of tolerable workmanship, remains yet unbroken, as also a stone door. In the Aceldama, or field of blood, is a square building, into which are thrown the bones of strangers who may happen to die there. This side of the mountain is pock-marked with sepulchral caves, like the hills at Thebes: concerning A cave on the Mount of Olives is pointed out as these Dr. Clarke has made mention. The burial-place of the Jews is over the valley of Kedron, and the fees having been the abode of the Apostles, and from this admirable brevity :spot I took a drawing of Jerusalem. for breaking the soil afford a considerable revenue to the governor. The tomb of Jehosophat is respected; but at the tomb of Absalom every Jew, as he passes, throws a stone, not like the Arab custom in so doing to perpctuate a memory, but to overwhelm it with reproach among the tombs is one having an Egyptian torus and cornice, and another surmounted by a pyramid on a Grecian base, as if the geniuses of the two countries had met half way. There is, however, nothing so disagreeabie in these combinations, as in the deviations from architecture by Mr. N. The burialplace of the Turks is under the walls, near St. Stephen's Gate from the opposite side of the valley, I was witness to the ceremony of parading a corpse round the mosque of Omar, aud then bringing it forth for burial. I hastened to the grave, but was soon driven away; as far as my on dit' tells me, it would have been worth seeing: the grave is strewn with red carth, supposed to be of the Ager Damascenus, of which Adam was made; hy the side of the corpse is placed a stick, and the priest tells him that the Devil will tempt him to become a Christian, but that he must make good use of his stick, &c. The church of the Holy Sepulchre is a small un. worthy building: it is held in respect by the Turks, inasmuch as they allow that our Saviour was a holy man, and it is guarded by them, as they derive great benefit by a poll-tax levied upon pilgrims at admission. It is the scene of hypocrisy, brutalization, and contention. The miracle of calling fire from heaven is more palpable, and is more unpardonable, than the melting of the blood of St. Januarius: the orgies that take place upon the occasion, are worse than Bacchanalian, and the hatred existing between the Greek and Latin Christians is diabolical: there was lately an attempt to massacre the latter in the very church. The Greeks, having most money to pay the governor, have the greatest possessions in the building, and they have at present immured the tomb of Geoffroi: every stone is contended for by rival parties, and becomes a source of wealth to Mohammedans. The Jew may not pre CRITICISM. COCK ROBIN. [The following jeu d'esprit is extracted from that interesting Ploratus, mortis comites, et funeris atri!-Lucret, lib. 2. The lovers of poetry, who feel that they cannot zeal for the interests of literature by the endeavour to In criticising a poetical composition, the attention is Achilles dissolve in torrents over the lifeless Patroclus, The poem under consideration presents to us a mur- But did Robin fall alone, unheeded?-Was no friend present to compose his ruffling plumes, to restrain the convulsive outstretching of his claws, or to catch the breath which quivered on his beak? These the next tender inquiries, expressed with an are Who saw him die? Sach is the reply given by little Musea, (with a simplicity peculiar to his nature) and eagerly vouching that he was an actual eye witness of the afflicting scene. The judgment of the bard is conspicuous in having made Musca and Piscis the only spectators of the catastrophe. Since these were unable, the one from his diminutive stature, and the other from his local situation, to arrest the fatal stroke.-The poem proceeds : Who caught his blood? And I caught his blood! Nothing can be more natural than this description of the endeavour to preserve by some relic the memory of one so dear. The revenues of whole provinces have cheaply purchased the parings of saintly nails; and what could, to the companions of Robin, be a more valuable memorial than his blood-or a plume dipped in the precious stream? The unhappy circle now hasten to prepare the rites of sepulture. Scarabaeus, little model of industry, will furnish the sad robe of death; gifted by nature with acutely-feeling horns, to what so commendable office could she apply : Who'll be the Parson? And I'll be the parson. The tuneful Alauda also offers her assistance : Who'll be the clerk? Though it is in the dark. In no instance, perhaps, is the judgment of the poet more happily evinced, than in the reply of the Lark. It marks most forcibly the strength of her attachment. To no inhabitant of the air is the bright day more delightful, or the night more abhorrent. But midnight being selected as the fit hour for the observance of the mournful rites, the feelings of the friend overcome the antipathies of nature, and the melody of the Lark with an earth-born angel's voice, comes to swell the mournful bymn of death. The noble example is eagerly followed; to bear the pall, to bring the torch, to sound the knell, are objects of generous competition. And let it not be supposed that so perfect a poet as the author of the Cocco-Robiniad could overlook any portion of the solemn pomp and circumstance calcuHow imperfect lated to deepen the melancholy scene. had been the effect of the bard's description, if the funeral had taken place in the gaudy Bare of day, where the laughing sunshine would seem but to mock the sorrowing group; and how beautifully is the hour of midnight selected, when the torch may Aing its red and pitchy smoke on the gloomy scene :— Who'll carry the link? The same impatient solicitude to testify the last mark of respect to the defunct hero, which characterises the other personages in the poem, is evinced by the Linnet. services : Without a moment's delay she offers her I, says the Linnet, I'll fetch it in a minute, After such an affecting scene, it is imperiously necessary that the mind of the reader be prepared and tranquillised for the succeeding verse. He has been All the birds in the air Te MOST VOLUCRES, te turba ferarum, In an elegy like the one before us, the moral must Having considered the subject, weighed the merits of the particular stanzas, and deduced the moral of the story; we must advert to the excellence of the style, and the beauty of the numbers. But this, as our learned and lengthy divines say, will form the subject of our next week's discourse. a JORINDA AND JORINDEL. (From Grimm's German Popular Stories.) There was once an old castle that stood in the middle of a large thick wood, and in the castle lived an old fairy. All the day long she flew about in the form of an owl, or crept about the country like a cat; but at night she became an old woman again. When any youth came within horror-struck in the commencement of the poem by hundred paces of her castle, he became quite atrocity and blood, he has then been carried along by fixed, and could not move a step till she came the tumultuous exertion of anxious officiousness; and and set him free: but when any pretty maiden the attention is now, as it should be, relieved by some came within that distance, she was changed into soft and amiable object on which it can dwell with a bird; and the fairy put her into a cage and tender pleasure. How then has the poet met the ex-hung her up in a chamber in the castle. There pectation of the reader by passages beyond the puny were seven hundred of these cages hanging in carpings of a Zoilus :— the castle, and all with beautiful birds in them. Now there was once a maiden whose name was Jorinda: she was prettier than all the pretty girls that ever were seen; and a shepherd, whose name was Jorindel, was very fond of her, and they were soon to be married. One day they went to walk in the wood, that they might be alone and Jorindel said, We must take care that we dont go too near the castle." It was a beautiful evening; the last rays of the setting sun shone bright through the long stems of the trees upon the green under-wood beneath, and the turtledoves sang plaintively from the tall birches. Who'll be chief mourner? For I mourn for my Love, How soft, how polished, are the thoughts and words; how exquisite is the poetic tact and taste: mourn for my Love.'-Sweet bird! Thou shalt indeed be chief mourner, for thou art alone fit for so tender an office. Equally judicious is the keeping' in the other eharacters, as they appear in order on the stage :Who'll bear the pall? We, says each Wren, ་ Both the Cock and the Hen, The distinguishing feature of the poem, the warm eagerness of Robin's friends, is here again discernible. It was not enough that one Wren should spring forward to offer his best services. Both the Cock and the Hen, forsaking their own nest, and deaf to the chirpings of their unfledged offspring, unite to bear the pall. The two following stanzas present nothing particuLarly worthy of remark. But in this very want of interest the art of the poet is conspicuous. He has dexterously withheld all splendour or passion from these verses, to render more impressive the close of the elegy: Who'll sing a psalm? Mark the close of the verse :- So, Cock Robin - Farewell! What a moving cadence: Cock Robin-Farewell!' Jorinda sat down to gaze upon the sun; "The ring-dove sang from the willow spray, He mourn'd for the fate Of his lovely mate, The song ceased suddenly. Jorindel turned to see the reason, and beheld his Jorinda changed into a nightingale; so that her song ended with a mournful jug, jug. An owl with fiery eyes flew three times round them, and three times screamed, Tu whu! Tu whu! Tu whu! Jorindel could not move: he stood fixed as a stone, and could neither weep, or speak, or stir hand or foot. And now the sun went quite down; the gloomy night came; the owl flew into a bush; and a moment after the old fairy came pale and meagre, with staring eyes, and a nose and chin that almost met one another. She mumbled something to herself, seized the nightingale, and went away with it in her hand. Poor Jorindel saw the nightingale was gone,— could not move from the spot where he stood. but what could he do? He could not speak, he At last the fairy came back, and sung with a "Till the prisoner's fast, And her doom is east, There stay! Oh, stay! When the charin is around her, And the spell has bound her, He could not return to his own home, so he went to a strange village, and employed himself in keeping sheep. Many a time did he walk round and round as near to the hated castle as he dared go. At last he dreamt one night that he found a beautiful purple flower, and in the middle of it lay a costly pearl; and he dreamt that he plucked the flower, and went with it in his hand into the castle, and that every thing he touched with it was disenchanted, and that there he found his dear Jorinda again. In the morning when he awoke, he began to search over hill and dale for this pretty flower; and eight long days he sought for it in vain but on the ninth day early in the morning he found the beautiful purple flower; and in the middle of it was a large dew drop as big as a costly pearl. Then he plucked the flower, and set out and travelled day and night till he came again to the castle. He walked nearer than a hundred paces to it, and yet he did not become fixed as before, but found that he could go close up to the door. : Jorindel was very glad to see this he touched the door with the flower, and it sprang open, so that he went in through the court, and listened when he heard so many birds singing. At last he came to the chamber where the fairy sat, with the seven hundred birds singing in the seven hundred cages. And when she saw Jorindel she was very angry, and screamed with rage; but she could not come within two yards of him, for the flower he held in his hand protected him. He looked around at the birds, but alas! there were many nightingales, and how then should he find his Jorinda? While he was thinking what to do, he observed that the fairy had taken down one of the cages, and was makher escape through the door. He ran or flew to her, touched the cage with the flower,-and his Jorinda was before him. She threw her arms round his neck and looked as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as when they walked together in the wood. Then he touched all the other birds with the flower, so that they resumed their old forms; and took his dear Jorinda home, where they lived happily many years. A lay it was of simplest melodie, Aforetime framed ;-when first his bosom heaved Ellenore, thy cheek is pale! Droops like the snowdrop in the storm! 'Yet,-thou loved one,-shouldst thou die, The heart that deeply, truly, feels,- Ellenore, then if thou die Not from me should steal one sigh! 5. At such dread moment,-all were still, • Well I ween, I soon should lie So sang Llewellyn :-o'er the silent main Agen he struck the strings of his guitar, Or trees that answer to young zephyr's sigh! 'Gailye we, in boyhood's hours, Eye of fire, and brow sublime, 'Dole in derne survenes at last,-- Than a year, an age of joye!' Such was the lay-and, well I ween, that lay, The wanderer now a loftier prelude tried, That breathed of battles,-of expiring groans,Of chiefs that mid the maddening conflict died,— Of widows' plainings, and of orphans' moans,And all that man's unceasing discord owns! It was a strain a warrior's breast to please, Whose softer thoughts ambition's clarion drowns! The prelude ended, to the wide-spread seas And starry skies he sung this lay of elder Greece. 1. • My brand I'll bear with myrtle branches drest ; And with Achilles swift of foot, you dwell, 2. My brand I will, with myrtle boughs, disguise; For that, unto the tyrant's heart, the blade Ill a light citterne suited lay so bold ;- Of cold, unfeeling hearts-ay, lay me down To die or to renounce my deep-fixt love; I would not change, not for the richest crown That the earth owns ;-so be I might not prove The warm, fond, love-born wish, that, interwove With every thought, gives life it's sweetest zest,— Else wellnigh worthless,-and not much above What nature bath allow'd even to the beast, That, once with grazing fiil'd, there lays him down to rest. XXXI. This life, which witless mortals precious deem,With all that wisdome, wealth, or power e'er gave, Fame's dear-bought breath, or mad ambition's dream, But, to my theme :-be turu'd to love again, Of despised love, and show'd the fickle fair 'On seeming smiles and gentle guise relying,- 2. Alas, though now he hail the soft emotion Such song he sung;-and, sooth to say, it came Of all the woes, in one dark tide that roll! And now, strain after strain, he pours them forth,———— To joyaunce past he turns,-yet may no solace find! For what is joy, present or past ?—A dream, The gloomy march of life by sighs and tears! A guest unbid,-unwelcome too,-how be! As death to them that live-Even such the fate Well I remember me,-while yet a boy, From a wise dame learnt I a cunning tale;That, after bale, there sometimes springeth joy,— But, after pleasaunce, dole doth aye prevail! For sisters twain they be, and never fail, Together linkt, o'er the wide world to range! So, take them as ye may,-first langh, then wail, As oftenest is our lot,-ne deem it strange, If momentany joy to long impleasaunce change! XXXVIII. And, sooth to say, 'tis but a troublous dream, This life that we possess ;-which, whether 'twere In wrath or kindness given us, is a theme Of meditation awful, deep, severe ! Wise to my mind that saying doth appear Which erst the sage of Salamis did give,'Call no one blessed, till the funeral bier His lifeless frame receive;-sith all that live, Or e'er their dying hour, with adverse fate may strive!' (To be continued.) ON TO MY MOTHER ! Full oft my fa'vrite harp I've strung, To chace the gloom of sorrow's night; Yet, Mother, midst this changing scene, Though as the oak to ivy green, All that is dear art thou to me. The burning thirst for future fame, That grief and gloom could well repay; The ardent impulse for a name O'er which bright fortune cast a ray, In death's cold arms he silent lay) And crown me with approving smiles; And I have reach'd this wish'd for day! With scarce a trace of dark despair. Was in the smiling Hope of Heaven? That snatch'd me from the rav'nous grave, But sickness, death, and sorrow brave. Is wound around my fervent heart: And should the cold and silent tomb Be thine, ere all thy worth's repaid Then may we meet, when time shall be no more, H. B. P. VARIETIES. INGENIOUS EXPEDIENT.The following is the substance of a curious direction contained in the will of the late Mr. Benbacock, recently made public by the death of Mrs. B. whose effects are announced for sale in the papers. He desired that after all his just debts were liquidated, his books should be packed in a wooden box, bored on all sides with holes, and be thrown into the river. The execators, however, deemed it a very dangerous measure, in case of any latent claim that might hereafter be made on the estate, and hit upon the following expedient, viz :---to leave some small debts, or fractional parts of debts unpaid--thus providing against such an event, and at the same time complying with the commands expressed in the will. A Nobleman dunned by his tailor, who was not only a very ill-favoured person, but perhaps made still more disgracious by his business, said to him in a bumourous pet, "Gad curse it you are the ugliest rascal in London. Show me but a man as ugly as yourself, and I'll pay your bill." Our ingenious tradesman departed, reflecting on this hard condition, when by good luck it struck him to enlist Heidegger on his behalf; but this was no easy job; Heidegger was a high Don, and it was absolutely necessary to employ finesse. So he went to the Count as with a message from my Lord, desiring to see him immediately. Heidegger hesitated, but at length went; and the tailor watching his opportunity, popped his own ugly face in at the door along with the hideous visage of the foreigner. The Nobleman could not resist the appeal, but, bursting into a fit of laughter, worth all the money, gave a cheque for his bill. ANECDOTE OF THE LATE GEORGE COOKE.--During Kean's recent visit to Whitehaven, he related the following anecdote of the late George Cooke, which may possibly be new to many of our readers :--- When George was playing at Liverpool, the managers found great difficulty in keeping him sober; but after repeated transgressions, he solemnly promised not to offend again during his stay. In the evening of the day on which the promise was made, George was not to be found when wanted for Sir Pertinax Macsycophant ; the audience grew impatient; the manager stormed, and all was in most admired disorder. After a long | search, one of the managers found him at a pot house near the theatre, where he was drinking with great composure and perseverance out of a very small glass. "Oh! Mr. Cooke," exclaimed the irritated manager, you have again broken your solemn promise; did you not tell me you would give over drinking?" George surveyed the manager with the most provoking coolness, and said, "I certainly did make such a promise, but I have you cannot expect a man to reform all at once. given over in a great measure," holding up the small glass to the manager's nose. INDIAN CURIOSITIES.---Capt. J. Betham has brought from Madras a collection of curiosities illustrative of manners and science amongst the natives of India, consisting of agricultural implements, carriages, Masulah boats, cattamarans, musical and warlike instruments, a collection of drawings of the costumes of the casts, carved and painted figures of the different trades, Hindoo deities, Pega weights, female ornaments, a few valuable manuscripts (particularly an Armenian version of the New Testament, 570 years old), some ancient coins, and other curiosities; forming altogether an Asiatic museum, which we are led to expect be intends to have exhibited. He has also brought home an Indian Cosmorama, consisting of 104 extremely curions his torical drawings. CORRESPONDENCE. SECRET WRITING. TO THE EDITOR, SIR, I take the liberty of sending you what I presume to be an explanation of the " Specimen of Secret Writing" inserted in the last page of Saturday's Iris. At the same time I must acknowledge that I have not been able to discover the "principles on which the solution must depend" any further than this, viz: that a is substituted for m, d for y, &c. &c. I mistake if there be not an error in the spelling of the words bzoctonk and anlq in the first line: I presume they should have been written, bajctjnk and amlg. I am, &c. A SUBSCRIBER. Mythology is a subject which is involved in much intricacy. From the great length of time, indeed, which has elapsed since the origin of Pagan worship, and the obscurity in which the early history of all nations is shrouded, it is extremely difficult to trace the origin of their various religious rites, even with all the assistance that can be derived from a knowledge of what may be called the primitive languages, and the utmost etymological acumen. Manchester, Dec. 23, 1822. MR. EDITOR,-Your correspondent, who styles himself "A Subscriber," has succeeded in decyphering the specimen of secret writing inserted in the 47th number of the Iris, a has detected two instances of erroneous orthography into which ! had inadvertently fallen. The way in which he discovered my key was, I presume, by observing the relative frequency f occurrence of different letters in certain situatious. The article a, for example, occurs more frequently than the pronoun 7, of the interjection ; when, therefore, be found a character 16peatedly standing by itself, he would immediately note it down as being the substitute of a; and as in the specimen o appears in this situation, he will substitute the letterà in every word where o has been employed. Again to, of, is, in, be, &c. are words of two letters, and the, and, &c. are words of three letters which repeatedly occur. Now in the specimen, fq appears to stand for the, and on farther inspection this is coafirmed, for bf is evidently the substitute for it, and, from the connexion, bi appears to stand for is. In this manner the other letters of the key will be discovered, first by conjecture chiefly, and afterwards confirmed by their relative situation in other words. It only remains, therefore, that your readers be put in possession of the complete key to the specimen laid before them. For a, b, c, &c. respectively, to the end of the alphabet, the following were substituted o, g, 1, k, n, s, P, q, b, r, e, t, a, z, c, w, x, y, i, f, m, j, h, v, d, u. Jan. 13th, 1823. I am, &c. GIMEL. A MACHINE MAKER is informed that Mr. St. Clere has furnished us with a diffuse, literal, and figurative elucidation of the point objected to in our last. Mr. St. Clere derives the word Machine from the Greek; and, on reference to the lexicon, finds it defined, artificium, solertia, molitio, consilium; and on looking into Aiusworth he finds consilium defined, reason, understanding. He quotes "mackinations of the human mind," and, satisfactorily shows that he did not intend to convey any idea that should derogate from the uncontrolled freedom, or immateriality of the soul. THE DRAMA. MANCHESTER DRAMATIC REGISTER. Monday, January 13th.---The Way to Keep Him : with Tuesday, 14th.---Love, Law, and Physic : The Portrait of Cervantes: and The Libertine. Lubin Log and Sancho, Mr. Liston. The Libertine. Sir Bashful Constant, Mr. Liston. Wednesday, 15th.---The Rivals: with Peter Fin's Trip to Brighton. Bob Acres and Peter Fin, Mr. Liston. Friday, 17th.---For the Benfit of Mr. Liston: Exchange no Robbery Tom Thumb the Great and Family Jars. Sam Swipes, Lord Grizzle, and Delph, Mr.. Liston. "Peter Fin; or, a New Road to Brighton," a new and very humourous farce, said to be from the pen of Mr. Jones, of the Edinburgh Theatre, was brought out on Wednesday night. It is scarcely necessary to observe that Mr. Liston's "Peter Fin" was every thing the author could possibly desire; his simplicity and enthusiasm were ludicrous, and afforded. ample scope for langhter and merriment. MR. VANDENHOFF. Of this gentleman who has lately appeared at the Edinburgh Theatre, in the character of Coriolanus, the Edinburgh Weekly Journal says as follows;-"His person is uncommonly fine, and his gestures full of grace and dignity; his voice is deep and clear, his face handsome, and his eye and forehead very power. ful. The whole effect of his countenance is expressive; yet this quality must submit to considerable qualification. When fairly fixed and concentrated in one absolute and engrossing emotion, it is difficult (having succeeded in forgetting Kemble) to conceive any thing more stately and impressive than the form and face of Mr. Vandenhoff. Arrest him in this point, and the painter and statuary would find him an excellent study. But, besides that his features are small, his face, in its transitions from one passion to another, sometimes exhibits a sarcastic peevishness, in place of the lofty scorn which his mind conceives, and which is not merely short of, but at variance with, the characteristic emotions of Coriolanus. His bust, however, is remarkably fine; his throat, more especially, and the junction of the throat with the head, is the finest we recollect to have seen. To these physical endowments, his mental requisites do uo injustice. The general conception of the character was so completely (and so properly) formed upon that of Mr. Kemble, to which also his delineation of it very nearly approached, that no room was attorded, at least no opportunity. was seized, for the display of originality of genius; but a vigo. rous and masculine understanding, as well as a classical taste, was conspicuous through the whole, and the representation was powerfully and cousistently maintained to the end. Upon the whole, Mr. Vandenhoit's success was complete; and we do not hesitate to pronounce him to be amongst the very first tragedians now upon the stage, and assuredly the highest in that department that has ever before been in Edinburgh as a resis dent actor." WEEKLY DIARY. JANUARY. REMARKABLE DAYS. SATURDAY, 18.-La festa di Cattedra, Or commemoration of placing the supposed Chair of St. Peter, is thus described by Lady Morgan At the extremity of the great nave of St. Peter's, behind the altar, and mounted upon a tribune, designed or ornamented by Michael Angelo, stands a sort of throne, composed of precious materials, and supported by four gigantic figures. A glory of seraphim, with groups of angels, sheds a brilliant light upon its splendours. This throne enshrines the real, plain, worm-eaten wooden chair, on which St. Peter, the Prince of Apostles, is said to have pontificated; more precious than all the bronze, gold, and gems, with which it is hidden, not only from impious but from holy eyes, and which once only, in the flight of ages, was profaned by mortal inspection. The Festa de Cattedra is one of the very few functions, as they are called (funzioni), celebrated in St. Peter's. The splendidly dressed troops that line its nave, the church and lay dignitaries-abbots, priests, canons, prelates, cardinals, doctors dragoons and senators, all clad in various and rich vestments, marching in procession-complete, as they proceed up the vast space of this wondrous temple, a spectacle nowhere to be equalled within the pale of European civilization. In the midst of swords and crosiers, of halberds and crucifixes, surrounded by banners, and bending under the glittering tiara of threefold power, appears the aged, feeble, and worn-out POPE, born aloft on men's shoulders, in a chair of crimson and gold, and environed by slaves (for such they appear), who waft, from plumes of ostrich feathers mounted on ivory wands, a cooling gale, to refresh his exhausted frame, too frail for the weight of such honours. All fall prostrate as he passes up the church to a small chair and throne, temporarily erected beneath the chair of St. Peter. A solemn service is then performed, hosannas arise, and royal votarists and diplomatic devotees parade the church, with guards of honour and running footmen; while English gentlemen and ladies scramble, and crowd, and bribe, and fight their way to the best place they can obtain.' TUESDAY, 21.-Saint Agnes. Has been always considered by the Catholics as a special patroness of purity, with the immaculate Mother of God and St. Thecla. Rome was the theatre of the triumph of St. Agnes; and Prudentius says, that her tomb was shown within sight of that city. She suffered not long after the beginning of the prosecution of Dioclesian, whose bloody edicts appeared in March in the year of our Lord 303. She was only thirteen years of age at the time of her glorious death. On this day, some silly women fast all day, and take care that they do not touch, or are touched by, a male, in order that they may dream of their lovers at night. Many other kinds of devination are practised by our rustic damsels, for the same purpose. ANNUS MIRABILIS! OR, A PARTHIAN GLANCE AT 1822. July. Clara Fisher, at the Lyceum, played Crack, a drunken cobbler in the Turnpike Gate: "train up a child in the way it should go." Tread-Mill adopted in Cold Bath Fields prison. Achilles mounted in Hyde 1 | Park: several breeches made in the wall, but not one pair made for the statue. Annual regatta of the Funny Club members rowed in their shirts to the Castle at Richmond in a soaking shower: odd notions of fun. Margate steam-yachts much in request, and Dover coach fares reduced. Death of John Emery the comedian. Haymarket Theatre much frequented: Terry excellent in John Buzzby: "a Day's pleasure" productive of a Night's. Migration over Westminsterbridge: Astley's Amphitheatre courted in the dog. days: humour of the horse-clown applauded, and the Antipodean postare-master much admired. Only one man horsewipped by Barry O'Meara, aud he the wrong one. of Figaro critics for once unanimous. Census of August.-Appearance of Miss Paton in the Marriage London population: one million souls, exclusive of one female infant sworn by Hannah White to Ex-sheriff Parkins. English players at the Porte St. Martin, ia Paris: open with Othello: a wise selection, consider ing the objection of the French to slaughter on a stage: Moor of Venice damned, and Desdemona hit by a penny piece. The King embarked at Greenwich for Scotland: not a Caledonian visible during his absence, even at the India House; all being, or affecting to be, at the Levee at Holyrood House. "Carle now the King's highly interesting to those who understand it. abruptly quitted Edinburgh. Viscount Newry, aided Lord Portsmouth, frightened at the Advent of Majesty, by his five servants, rowed from Oxford to London in eighteen hours: not a scull in the boat. Abbey on sale, and Wanstead House no more remembered: Salisbury plain covered by women eager to gain admission: run of the piece stopped by Farquhar's "Stratagem." John Paterson, aged fifty, married at St. Anne's Soho, to Jane Barclay, aged eighteen no cause assigned for the rash action.. come: Fonthill September-Return of the King to London: Scots still insufferable; the swell taking time to abate: plan of erecting a Parthenon on Calton Hill: Auld Reekie to be christened Modern Athens: great demand for fowling-pieces at Mortimer's in Fleet-street: not a did not talk of bagging his three brace. The Lutine cockney, from Savage-gardens to Skinner-street, that Frigate with 200,000l. on board: vessel meant to be weighed at Amsterdam, and the scheme interdicted. New Marriage Act threatens to annihilate that ceremony. Death of Sir William Herschel, and discovery of a new comet without a tail. Dinner given to Mr. Hume at Aberdeen nothing on table but Peter's brown loaf: "Thrift, thrift, Horatio." Statement of a civic dinner given at Norwich in 1516: amount of bill 1. 18s. 1d. utterly disbelieved by Sir W. Curtis. A man of fashion seen in London, who made no excuse criticised, notwithstanding which seven bachelors were married in one day, at the parish church of St. Andrew's Holborn. A clergyman attended to give the unhappy wretches the last consolations of religion. November-Commencement of Michaelmas Term: attorneys brandishing their pens: plaintiffs and defendants loitering about Oliver's coffee-house. Reported abduction of Lord Byron to South America: death of Mr. Zea: consequent tumble of Columbian bonds down a precipice of twenty-five per cent. Lords, in reversion, of Potosi and Peru left sprawling in the mire, and many dozens of dry champagne advertised for sale considerably under prime cost. Liberation of Orator Hunt: his procession through London, and radical dinner at the Shepherd and Shepherdess. About the same time Mount Vesuvius begau to grumble and in both cases " repeated shocks and internal howlings sitting at Verona with closed doors and plugged keywere heard from the mountain." Congress contioned holes: much conjecture consequently afloat. Opera-house end of Pall Mall was much alarmed by an explosion of gas. Signor Zuchelli's elegance was sadly scorched; and Madame Camporese forcibly driven into two of Madame Rouzi di Begni's characters. Signor Ambrogetti's voice has not been heard of since. The British ambassador's letter-bag was tied up, and much epistolary grumbling consequently confined to the Bible-meeting at the Mansion House: gizzards of the English exiles at Paris. Auxiliary great pouring The out of clergymen and old women down the front steps of that edifice, who were mistaken by the multitude for disorderly people of the night preceding. A committee appointed of twenty males and as many females, "with power power to add to their numbers." Lord Portsmouth horsewipped by his lady, to verify the dictum of Orator Hunt, that all the fair sex are reformers. A million bushels of human bones were landed at Hall from the fields of Dresden and Waterloo: human bones best adapted to fertilize land, whence we derive the word man-ure. Galignani's Messenger gave an acconnt of a parting dinner given to Anacreon Moore by the English in Paris. His speech on the occasion was not so well-timed as well-spoken: it implied that there was nothing like England after all: a strange observation in the hearing of those who preferred France before all. Extraordinary effect of galvanism upon the body of an attempt made by the Rev. Mr. Colton to latiuize Gray's Elegy. Another new tragedy from Lord Byron, entitled Werner: less obnoxious to Church-goers than its predecessor, but more so to criticism. A caution to resurrection-men: one Simon Spade, a body-snatcher, while sounding for subjects in St. Martin's church-yard, dug up his own wife. The poor man has been inconsolable ever since. Miss F. H. Kelly made her first appearance at Covent-garden theatre in the character of Juliet: if this young lady's object was secrecy, never did any arrow so miss its mark; the whole town has been gazing at her ever since. Several fogs were seen gathering round the Serpentine river and the Paddington Canal. Royal Humane Society's man, consequently, on the watch notwithstanding which, the average November quantity of men and women put a period to their existence the former, as usual for money, the latter for love. The for being there in September: the crowd was immense. October. Alterations in the interior of Drury-lane theatre---opening address of G. Colman: abolition of stage doors: great shifting of actors from one house to the other: stars changed to comets. Congress at Verona. London stili a desert: but junior merchants and clerks in public offices occasionally seen stealing through the streets. The French ministers presented their compliments to Sir Robert Wilson, and requested the favour of his absence from France. His appeal to his constituents, who will probably order the decree to telling the British public all about it. Columbian bonds be rescinded. Turkey and Greece: letter from Paris at a high premium, and the holders lords Peru and Potosi. Appearance of "The Liberal" from the south so called by the godfather of the Serpentine River, who gave it that name because it was neither serpentine nor a river. Stoppage of Mr. Bowring at Calais, and his removal to Boulogne: his eulogy as a Russian anthologist. Death of Mrs. Garrick at Hampton: extract from Lee Lewis, proving her to be danghter to the Earl of Burlington, and, consequently, proprietor of the mansion in Piccadilly bearing that name; stated by one journal to have had but a single maid of all work, and by another to have been possessed of a coachman and footman: scramble among the Dilettanti for little David's original Hogarths. Mermaid exhible cure for chilblains. Proposals published for a Subbited in St. James's-street: said by some to have died of the stitch and by others to have been produced by Mrs. Salmon in Monkey Island. Alderman Wood seen on the Maidstone road, riding between two pack saddles, laden with samples of hops. Marriage act still much December.-Great demand for post-horses at Verona in consequence of the abrupt dissolation of the Congress. Lord John Russell's new tragedy, two editions in one week and an Episcopal visitation sermon too weak for one edition. Bethel Watermen's Reform society, Sheriff Thompson in the chair: drag net to sweep off all aquatic execrations: "damns have had their day:" Bibles in brigs, and prayer-books in pants. Strange monsters imported by Polito, consisting of an intellectual dandy, a cival radical, and an actor without a grievance: also a blue-stocking breeder, and a tortoisesheil tom-cat the mob nearly overpowered the constables. Sad sameness of Christmas dinners. "Chine nods at chine, each turkey has a brother: " every tablespoon in the house flaming with burnt brandy. Infalli way Company, to repair London gas and water-pipes without breaking up the pavement: much patronized by Bond-street fashionables, who were naturally desirous of taking a subterraneous walk toward the city, to borrow money, and by so doing to avoid a rencontre |