66 let the Abbey go to ruin. "I can live here," allowed his cook 8007. a year, and appropriated he said to his woodman, "in peace and retire- 20007. a month to supply provisions for his kitment for four thousand a year-why should I chen. He has been known on frequent occatenant that structure with a retinue that costs sions to sit down with Franchi, (for there was me near thirty thousand?" Subsequently, how- scarcely ever a third person at table) to a dinner ever, he resolved to part with the entire, and consisting of twenty covers, served upon gold announced his intention without a sigh. It plate. Meanwhile the servants were all stahas cost me," said he (gazing at it), "with what tioned in a line of communication between the it contains, near a million. Yet I must leave dining room, the pantry, and the kitchen, so it, and I can do so at once. Public surprise will that they were in constant readiness to pass his be created, but that I am prepared for. Beck- orders from one to another. With him the ford they will say, has squandered his large for-words servant and slave were synonimous, and tune to me it is a matter of perfect indifference. he considered it derogatory to his dignity not to It would much exceed our limits to attempt have a train of menials waiting his commands at all hours. He was as despotic in this respect even a description of this justly celebrated Fonthill. as an Eastern Rajah, yet at the same time neThey not only enjoyed his bounty, but shared ver was any man more liberal to his servants. his magnificence, and while they trembled at his nod, they feasted on viands with which the first potentates of the earth might regale themselves. On one occasion, whilst the tower was rearing its lofty crest towards Heaven, an elevated part of it caught fire, and was destroyed. The sight was sublime; it was a spectacle, it is said, which the owner of the mansion enjoyed with as much composure as if the flames had not been devouring what it would have cost a fortune to repair. This occasioned but small delay in its re-erection, as the building was carried on by Mr. Beckford with an energy and enthusiasm, of which duller minds can form but a poor conception. At one period, it is said, that every cart and waggon in the district were pressed into the service, though all the agricultural labours of the country stood still. At another, even the royal works of St. George's Chapel, Windsor, were abandoned, that 460 men might be employed, night and day, on Fonthill Abbey. These men relieved each other by regular watches, and during the longest and darkest nights of winter, the astonished traveller might see the tower rising under their hands, the trowel and torch being associated for that purpose. This must have had a very extraordinary appearance, and it is said, was another of those exhibitions which Mr. Beckford was contemplating. He is represented as surveying the work thus expedited, the busy levy of the masons, the high and giddy dancing of the lights, and the strange effects produced on the woods and architecture below, from one of those eminences in the walks, of which there are several; and wasting the coldest hours of December's darkness, in feasting his sense with display of almost super-human power. He had, for a long time, more than four hundred persons employed at both, who were regularly paid every week. The works went constantly on; there have been instances of individuals paid for sixteen days' work during a week, including Sunday as a double day. Mr. Beckford superintended all himself. He stood amid torch-light, urging on the growth of the Abbey towers, and rode during the day among his labourers to see the plantations made. These traits of character will not surprise those who have made mankind their study: the minds most nearly allied to genius, are the most apt to plunge into extremes, and no man at present in existence, can make higher pretentions to a mind of this cast, than the founder of Fonthill Abbey. Mr. Beckford's style of living, as described by persons who had daily opportunities of witnessing it, is calculated to excite surprise and astonishment. The gorgeous array of the banquet he provided for Lord Nelson and Lady Hamilton has long since been detailed with all its splendid attributes of pomp; but his ordinary mode of living, which regarded only himself and his solitary foreign guest, was costly and luxurious beyond what the most extravagant Englishman could possibly imagine. He Among the many anecdotes of this gentleman, the following is related : Mr. Beckford resolved on going to Italy, and accordingly purchased two vesssels and fitted them up in the greatest magnificence: he had scarcely been at sea a day, before he encountered a stiffish breeze, which continued one night and part of the next day, during which time the vessels made but little way on their voyage, this so enraged Mr. B. that he summoned the captain to his presence, and asked him how long he imagined the breeze would continue. "Perhaps, Sir," says the captain, "it may last another day or so." "Another day!" replied Mr. B. "land me, my servants, and the carriages immediately at the first port." This order was obeyed; and Mr. B. remained on shore, making the captain a present of the vessels for his trouble. It is not, perhaps, generally known that no man living is more fanatically superstitious than Mr. Beckford. He is said, while he lived here, to have had so great a veneration for St. Anthony, that when he once made a vow in his name he 'never in any instance failed to fulfil it. A ludicrous proof of this occurred while he was building the Abbey, He vowed, by all the power of his favourite Saint, that he must have his kitchen built within a certain number of days, so that his Christmas dinner should be cooked in it. The workmen knew right well that the vow was not made in vain. They plied their labours incessantly; the kitchen was actually built; but in consequence of the extreme duce of 2007. Mr. Beckford possessed a fine taste, but he attached little value to any thing that was not costly, and is said to have been long the dupe of picture-dealers and collectors. His establishment, too, for years, was most lavishly expensive. "The lazy vermin of the hall, those trappings of his folly," swarmed at Fonthill. Mr. Beckford never moved but with a circle of them in attendance. They formed an appendage of his invincible pride; there was not a bell throughout the entire abbey; but he needed no summons to command attendance. His liveried retainers stood, in numerous succession, watchful sentinels at his door, and at fixed periods anticipated their proud master's wants. With all this expense few visitors were ever seen within the Abbey gates, and his own habits were been his companion for years; Mr. Beckford most temperate. The Chevalier Franchi had met him, we believe, in Portugal. The Chevalier was then a married man, and with a family, but was induced to attend his patron to England: his wife and children did not, however, accompany him, or quit Portugal during the many years the Chevalier remained in England. He acted for several years as comptroller of the household at Fonthill, is said to be a man of very cultivated mind, and is now with Mr. Beckford at Bath, who took from the Abbey 16 or 18 servants with him beside. Soon after the latter's first visit to Portugal, he became, it is generally supposed, a Catholic, and a member of the monastic order of St. Anthony. The Chevalier Franchi was also an extern associate of that order, and initiated with Mr. Beckford in its mysteries: both always wore the cross of the order, as a distinguishing character, in their breasts; and, like Louis XI. of France, Mr. Beckford always carried about him a small silver image of the saint. He had also in his chamber a picture of the Anchoret, to which he addressed his constant orisons. Mr. Beckford He read constantly during the evening; half the for years rose early, and retired as early to rest. books in the library bear marks of his studies; his days, with few exceptions, were devoted to the improvements in the building and demense. Heave to, and take Zounds! would you Almost lost my pas NAVAL PORTRAITS. ..." Ho! the Gazette a-hoy! a weather-beaten old Tar aboard. make sail and leave me aground? sage; aye, and so would you, Mr. Editor, if you'd one foot in the grave, and was compell'd to hobble along sideways like a crab, as I do. Well, well ; there, now I'm fairly shipp'd, let's look about and take a survey of my fellow-passengers-all worthy souls, no doubt. How are you, gemmen, how are you? Hearty. That's right; long may you float on the tide of public favour, and scud before the breeze of prosperity: and as for our foes, may they be condemned to hunt butterflies, clad in a pair of half-worn cobweb smallclothes fastened together with bachelors' buttons, hedge-hog, with a hip-bone you may hang your bat on. mounted on the back of an Irish hunter as rough as a Aye, aye, I'm no polish'd moun-seer or star-gazer, but a plain, blunt sailor. I'm proud of your company though, gemmen, indeed I am, and hope you won't despise me 'cause I shake a cloth in the wind; they are only a few Sailor's memorandums-poor, poor dumb mouths. Fine feathers make fine birds, they say; but a wig no more makes a lawyer, than a lawyer could make a wig, unless it be an ear-wig; and remember wetness of the weather the mortar could not cement the stone and brick-work. The Christmas dinner was, however, cooked in time to save Mr. Beckford's conscience, but scarcely was it dished for dinner when the walls of the kitchen tumbled about the ears of the domestics. Fortunately nobody was injured by the crash, for it gave just notice enough for them to escape its effects. How strange that a man of Mr. Beckford's great intellectual powers and vast attainments should labour under such an influence! Mr. Beckford, it is generally supposed, possesses little now beyond the remnant of what he acquired by the sale of Fonthill. His once magnificent income has fallen to almost nothing. He lost a large portion of his West India estates from defect of title, after a most expensive legal contest of several years, and was subjected to the heavy arrears of produce while he held that an honest Tar is not to be despised--he may carry them. So far from deriving any thing from the all his wealth upon his back; and as for his cash, it remnant of those once proud possessions, there may be like a wild colt on a common, obliged to be was last year a loss on the expenditure and pro-driven up into a corner of his pocket to be caught; but a man's a man, for a' that.' And arn't I commenced minotaur-painter-a kind of di-orammer-a sort of my-crow-cause-mug-roughy? (there's a word for you.) But this is a tumble-down-and-get-up-again world, and the wheel is in constant motion. A man must either have a handle before his name, or tail like a comet after it to get into notice and expose himself -D.D., M.D., or LL.D, which Teddy O'Shaugnessy latinizes Leg-em Lather-em Doctor.' But avast! let's get on ship-shape- All hands a-hoy!'-tumble up there, you Quidams,' and show yourselves-don't lie skalking in your births when I want to display your poor-traits. None of your grinning, Jack Rattlin; you look like the head of a Dutchman's walking-stick with a face as long as you can remember, and a mouth, not from ear to ear, but from there to yonder. The flowers of the navy, eh? Ah, so Lord Melville called you; sweet nosegays, to be sure, if we may guess by the grog blossoms on your nose! They would have made you a gunner, Jack, but they were afraid of trusting that volcano near the magazine. This, gemmen, is the identical son of that Jack Rattlin that Smollet speaks of in his Roderick Random, and he's his father's child every inch of him. There, don't hold your fin up-I know all about it; and once get you upon Duncan's action, there'll be no clapping a stopper on your tongue. I know what you are going to say now. Close alongside! Close alongside!' was echoed from the lower and main-deck as you ranged up to the Dutch Hercule; and the Captain answered, Aye, aye, my men, I'll lay you close enough, never fear: don't fire till you hear the quarter-deck.' And so when you got at a tolerable shake-hands distance, you rattled your pepper boxes at them, and made em sneeze a bit. Aye, aye, I understand all about it. In the language of one of our beautiful Latin poets, Horace, Homer, Cæsar, or Jupiter, I forget which-Pill-'em, Mill-'em, Board-'em, Pike-'em, Strike-'em, and that's a battle. Ho, Donald, my boy! how's aw wi' you, mon?"Brawly, brawly, thanks to ye for speering; how's aw wi' yoursel'?'-"There's a fine picture, gemmen: look at Donald's wig; it resembles that one cut in stone in the British Museum, and fits as well-not one hair is out of place; indeed his head seems to have been made for it. Look at his countenance! If some of our great Masters want a study from nature, here's the face. But it's of no use talking-I must get some of you into the Exhibition, and then take you to look at your pictures. Hold up your head, Donald, as you've been used to do every rope-yarn Sunday, when you muster'd by divisions, with a clean shirt and a shave. There, gemmen, upwards of eighty, with the bloom of a child, teeth like a young colt, and as active too. This was the man that won the running-match-seven left against seven right wooden pins, in a narrow lane; the left wooden legs on the right hand, and the right wooden legs on the left hand. My eyes, what a clattering as they rattled along and struck against one another! Half a dozen Merry Andrews beating Paddy O'Rafferty on the lids of as many salt-boxes was nothing to it! Donald lost his leg at Trafalgar with the brave Lord Collingwood: indeed he has sailed with him ever since he was a midshipman.-Where's Barney?" Here I am, sure.'-" And so you are. This, gemmen, is Barney Bryan, the one-eyed carpenter's mate of the Foudroyant. He is a native of Tipperary, though he tries to pass for a countryman of Sir Isaac Coffin's. He lost his eye by the accidental flash of a priming at the battle of the Nile; and has a particular aversion to a Welshman. Old Davy Jenkins, the purser's steward, and he were perpetually wrangling about ancestry, and they frequently threatened to box it out. One day, I remember, (for Barney is an old shipmate of mine,) poor Tom Miller and myself set out upon a sporting excursion on Sir Sydney's estate at Rio Janeiro. We had struggled through the woods, torn our clothes and flesh with the brambles, and were almost suffocated with the heat, without shooting so much as a rat; when my messmate, who was some paces in advance, singing A light heart and a thin pair of breeches Will get through the world, my brave boys,' suddenly stopp'd, and laid his finger on his lip. We enter'd an area that had been clear'd of the trees by the Admiral's men, for the carpenters to work and sawyers to cut the timber. Look, (said Tom, in a whisper,) " 4 'A look there!' Close to the edge of the saw-pit sat old Barney fast asleep, snoring most sonorously, and, as if to beat time, his head kept respectfully bowing to the measure. A huge he-goat at a short distance, whether attracted by Barney's nasal organ, (for music hath charms,' &c. &c.) or expecting the repeated nods were a challenge of skill, is uncertain; but at every bend of the one-eyed carpenter's head, up sprung the goat on his hind legs, and shook his tremendous horns in a menacing manner. I wish I could spell a snort, for snoring began to get out of the question now. plot! a plot!' whisper'd Tom, almost convulsed with laughter. I'll bet five pounds on the old clothesman. I say it is a good plot-a brave plot, in all its ramyfications.'-"Xxhhrnt," said old Barney. Up went the goat again; but whether the apostrophe was longer than usual, or the ned more terrific to this hero bearded like the pard,' away sprung Billy, and with one butt capsized the old man backwards into the saw-pit. Haugh! baugh! haugh!' roar'd Tom, "Marder! Murder!" bellow'd old Barney. Haugh! haugh! haugh!' went Tom again. I ran to see if he was burt; but there he lay half buried in dust and shavings, with his blind side uppermost. Halloo, Barney! what's the matter?' said Tom.' Oh, Mr. Miller! replied the old man,) I didn't think you would have used me in this manner."-1! (said Tom ;) No, no, I could never have done it so clean if I'd served a seven years' apprenticeship at it. But rouze up, old Barney, at him again; it was Davy Jenkins; here he stands, and says he arn't done with you yet.'- The rascal! the backbiting, assassinating dog! But stop a minute, I'll make him skip like one of his mountain goats, the villain! I'll teach him to take advantage of me. Stop a minute, (rising, and climbing up,) I'll soon show him- But scarcely did his head appear above the level of the ground, when the animal made another run, and happy it was for the old veteran he dipp'd out of the way. 'What! bob at a shot!' cried Tom. "Aye aye, (said Barney, crawling out on the opposite side,) I might have guess'd as much where you're concerned, Mr. Miller." In the evening, when the workmen came aboard, "Lay hold of my axe there below," cried the carpenter's mate down the hatchway. 'Baah,' was the reply. " Ah, your baaing-a fool's bolt is soon shot." Baa-aa-aah,' flew along the main deck; and from that hour poor Barney has been almost baa'd out of his senses. Who have we next? Oh, Dick Wills. Here, gemmen, 's a pretty perpendicular figure, six feet four; his head resembles a parser's lantern stuck on a spare topmast. There's a visage !—a second edition of Voltaire! The barber's afraid to shave him, lest he should cut his fingers through both bis cheeks. He walks on his toes, and appears as if he was always looking on a shelf. He was coxswain to Lord Hew Seymour when he commanded the Sans Pareil. Dick has read, or rather swallowed, several authors, without digesting them, and now they lie heavy on his memory. He is a bit of a poet too; but history is his forte. A pun is beneath his notice, and Teddy often gets a severe dressing for torturing words; however, 'tis all taken in good part, with an acknowledgment that a pun is the very punchinello of the vocabulary, and if wanting pungency, merits punition; and when a punitor becomes punitive, he should not punish with a puny punctilio.-Now comes my respected and respectable friend Sam Hatchway. Age has not dim'd the lustre of that eye; and though the winter of life has spread its snow upon thy head, yet is thy heart as warm as ever. Thus have I seen the frost of ages gather'd on the lofty mountain, while in the valley the luxuriant vine has spread its beauteous foliage, bow'd with the purple cluster, rich in dispensing joy around. Sam sailed the first two voyages round the world with the immortal Cook; and he never to this hour mentions his name without a tear, although he sneezes, coughs, blames the weather, and a hundred contrivances to conceal the real cause. Nearly ninety summers have swept down the tide of time, and he is looking forward to a peaceful mooring in the blessed haven of eternal rest. How calm, how dignified that look by care unruffled! Yes, it is the sweet smile of hope that looks beyond this cold, dull sphere that bounds us. There may we meet again, where hope is unknown, where all is certainty, for all is heaven.— Next comes Johnny Dumont, a native of Canada. He was with Wolfe at Quebec, and saw that gallant bero fall; was present at both Copenhagen affairs, the taking of the Isle of Anholt, and the storming of San Sebastian, at which latter place he lost his right arm in attempting to stop a six-pound shot fired from the citadel. He is a quiet, inoffensive man, and consequently has nothing very striking about him. But I must once more crave your indulgence for the rest, as Sam Quketoes has just hobbled up to inform me that my presence is requested at the Jolly Sailor, to decide a dispute between Ben Marlin and Jem Breeching, whether the first invention of ear ingenious ancestors was a pig's yoke or a mouse-trap,-a subject well worthy of attention in this age of mechanical speculation. Sam, who has lately been studying craniology, has an idea that the brain actually takes the particular form of any object on which the fancy or ingenuity broods. Thus one man's coils away like a patent chain-cable; and another's resembles a steam-engine with a fly-wheel; a third takes the shape of a corkscrew; a fourth of a tread-mill in constant motion; a fifth of a roasting-jack; while an author's is constantly changing from a crust of bread to a round of beef-from a sovereign to the King's Bench-from his last work, to a critical review. Good bye, gemmen, good bye-you shall see me again before long. Keep a look-out, for perhaps I may come disguised as a gentleman; till then-Don't bother me, Sam, I'm a-coming-till then, Meum and Tuum." AN OLD SAILOR. THE TINKER OF SWAFFHAM. A TALE. Once on a time, (if you'll believe What sights he saw, what objects met, But lo! the destin'd place is gain'd, I now inform thee, I'm suspicions, My aim is pure, tho' you may doubt it,-- 'Twas but last night," replies the other, Now 'stead of wand'ring up and down, " Nor wil! I whilst I'm worth a shilling." Sir, I wont sell it, I assure you." So out he hasted to the spot, Where he the other Vase had got. He dug more vigorous than before, And quickly found a second store. Three massy and capacious urns, He lifted from the earth by turns; Each fill'd as full as it could hold With precions antique coins of gold. Thus flush'd with riches unexpected, The Church at Swaffham he erected; The great difficulty of writing on every subject, is the management of the introduction. Authors in general are ceremonious gentlemen; they do not like to intrude themselves abruptly on the reader, but choose to give him timely notice of their approach. An introduction is a kind of intellectual bow which we of the scribbling tribe think necessary to our début in good company: but, God knows, we are often as awkward at it as we always are at the corporeal inflexion. For my part, I generally disapprove of this ceremonious custom, and think it "more honoured in the breach than in th' observance." I am quite a disciple of Montaigne in this particular, and perfectly anti-Ciceronian in matter of preamble. 66 I have however, as you see, smuggled a sort of introduction on this occasion. So now to my subject-which is meals. Brethren, my text is malt." Next to a good introduction, commend me to a good quotation. Meals are threefold breakfast, dinner, and supper; these form, as it were, the three primary orbs of the culinary system, to which we may add those satellites, tea and lunch, and those eccentric luminaries denominated snaps, whose periodic returns have hitherto baffled the calculaton of gastronomers. First, of the first breakfast. Now I am by no means an unsocial character, yet ("I own the soft impeachment,")-I like my breakfast alone. I hate your family breakfasts they are an abominable waste of time and spirits. As to your bachelors, who invite brother chips to breakfast, and accept of similar provocations, they ought one and all, hosts and guests, to be thrust out of the pale of rational society. I am proud to say, that I never breakfasted in company in my life, except when I could not help it; nor would I give a breakfast to St. Peter himself, not even if he were to allow me to take an impression of his keys in return for the compliment. The morning hours are sacred to every man of mind. When sleep has removed the perturbations of the preceding day, and the current of your ideas flows on in free yet placid streams, ere the tide is ruffled by the oars of business, which come dashing up towards noon, or the horizon is darkened by the clouds of care, oh! beware of interrupting the even course of thought. The brightest conceptions of genius have started into existence, have grown, and have been matured in the sacred hours of morning; at the period when the body, newly bathed in the dews of sleep, is vigorous and elastic, and the absolute dominion of the mind is yet debated between retreating fancy and invading the solitary breakfast, as a general rule, let me make one exception. Now and then a fair teamaker, with a handsome frilled night-cap, and a pair of fine eyes peeping from beneath it; but none of the masculine gender, for the Lord's sake! As to the matériel of breakfast, 1, generally speaking, prefer tea; it is the lightest and most intellectual of all beverages. Your déjeúnés à la fourchette are bad-they banqueroute the wits. Give me, for eating, a nice crusty loaf and some good butter; confound your buttered toast and hard eggs. A slice of broiled ham is superb, if you have been up very early, or very late; so is a red-herring; a thousand pities that it should ever make you thirsty. As to the time to be employed over breakfast, I cannot presume to determine so mighty a point; but perhaps it ought not to exceed four hours. Now, then, for dinner. As I am an advocate for solitary breakfast, so on the other hand, I am a zealot for the social dinner. Not but that I would make a few exceptions even here. A solitary dinner, now and then, is not bad. When you are much fatigued and in very low spirits, dine alone, and take a sleep after. Indeed, some people are so strangely constituted, that I think they ought always to dine alone. My good friend Tom Ogle is one of this cast: Tom, before dinner, is positively a pleasant fellow: but after-" duller than the fat weed that rots itself at ease on Lethe's wharf." I advise every man who cannot drink good wine after his dinner, to dine alone: human ingenuity could not invent a severer punishment for me, than to condemn me to dine heartily on roast pig, drink cold water, and then attempt to entertain a company of ladies. One might as well attempt to deliver a lecture on Italian literature, after being well saturated with draught porter. If you mean to write or study, in the evening, dine alone, by all manner of means. But for plea sure! dine in company; not in a large, formal, stiff company-nor with more than two or three at the utmost. I do not go so far as the adage of the ancients on this topic. The Muses are too numerous, and I conceive that we demay duct one sometimes from the Graces. A téte-àtéte dinner, with a pleasant friend and a good bottle, is the finest thing in the universe. But, like other fine things, it is seldom enjoyed in purity: for, for one man that is fit for a téte-àtéte, there are fifty-five millions that are unfit. My friend Dr. Makeweight is one of this fiftyfive millions; and so conscious is he of his own incapacity for a duet at knife and fork, that he would sooner undergo the martyrdom of St. Lawrence, than dine tête-à-tête with any body. I like a duet-I like a trio-I don't dislike a quartetto-I can bear a quintetto; but if I am to go beyond this, plunge me, in God's name, into the densest crowd that ever exhausted the vital air of a banquetting-room. In a very large party there is freedom and partial conversation; in a small one there is freedom and general conversation; but in a middling-sized company, there is neither one nor the other. "In medio non tutissimus ibis." How delightful, after dinner, is it to sit over a good bottle and some filberts, with one or two pleasant friends! but this subject has been too well handled before for me to touch upon it. I am quite a bigot in matters of coffee; it clears the intellect, by completing the digestive process. Coffee is the mother of wit, of humour, of sound logic, and brilliant rhetoric: but let it never be forgotten that wine is the father-may they ever be united in bands of the firmest wedlock! What sound sense hath joined together, let not folly put asunder. Your strong coffee, with a proper foundation of wine! The universe put together could not elsewhere far- Contrary to established notions, I dislike supper: I know all that has been said in its favour, and all that can be said. To me (as an unfortunate garçon), supper en famille is always a melancholy meal it is the prelude to parting, which usually "follows hard upon." It is to me the knell of joy it tolls us to the grave of an ungenial and solitary bed. To families it may be a pleasant meal-to bachelors it is miserable, unless they are allowed to sit up all night after it-a custom against which, the prudent heads of families very wisely set their faces. Good night! gentle reader.-Lit. Museum GAMING HOUSES. The Ideots, who believe that they have the power to subject games of hazard to their stupid calculations, are occupied in making MARTINGALES, which devour in an instant the most independent fortune. Those ridiculous, sottish calculators soon find out their error by being reduced to go to the workhouse. In truth, the VAGABONDS of all classes. The Prince is often confounded there with the Bar ARTS AND SCIENCES. METEOROLOGY. Meteorological Report of the Atmospherical Pressure and Spaces, taken from the daily means... ber.-The Princess with the Washerwoman.— The Swin- Were we inclined, we could fill an entire volume, Our French readers will recollect the deplorable event of that gallant Dutch officer, who, after having lost a splendid fortune not long since in one of those houses, shot himself at Aix la Chapelle.-A Russian general, also, of immense wealth, terminated his existence in the same manner, and for the same cause. More recently, a young Englishman, who lost the entire of an immense fortune at Paris, quitted this world by stabbing himself in the neck with a fork. A short time previously, another Englishman, whose birth was as high as his wealth had been considerable, blew his brains out in the Palais Royal, after having literally lost his last shilling. Finally, an unfortunate printer at Paris, who had a wife and five children, finished his earthly career for the same cause, by cruelly suffocat-. himself with the fumes of charcoal. He observes, in his farewell note to his unhappy wife,- Behold the effect of gaming." It is curious to see how the windows of the saloon (where the credulous assemble) are secured by bars of iron. A strong padlock is always attached to the door of the stove which warms the apartment, to prevent any attempt that the arm of vengeance might be roused to make, by drawing out the destructive element, and thus set fire to the whole fraternity at one blow! Besides these precautions, we observe below the gambling tables a screen, or strong inclosure, which renders the interior inaccessible to view, and against which the player is seated, without the liberty of extending his legs and feet. The most particular inspection is made of his person by the banker's spies, and even his dressing is strictly observed. He is obliged before entering the saloon, to deposit his great coat and cane, which might, perchance, afford the introduction of some weapon; and the elegance of the covering will not save him from the humiliation of having it taken from him at the door. The attempts, proceeding from despair, which have been made on the lives of those bankers, have established these precautions: indignities which are practised only in prisons, for the security of their unhappy inmates. It is certain, that gamesters reduced to desperation, and on the eve of committing suicide, have conveyed into those places infernal machines, with an intention of destroying the cruel plunderers and themselves in the same ruins. These acts of outrage and frenzy give an exact idea of those institutions denominated public gambling-houses. They are in harmony with those iniquitous places where hell itself exercises a paramount and anticipated authority; and we are bold to say, that (with the exception of a few of the hirelings which chance throws into the ranks of this barbarous institution) the door keepers and others charged with a system of espionage and internal security of the saloons, and the proprietors themselves carry on their countenances a singular and inauspicious aspect. The saloons wherein Hazard is played are generally well lighted, and elegantly furnished. We perceive, on entering, an immense quantity of gold and silver placed in piles on the tables. There are always six gardiens, Croupiers, that is to say, SERVANTS whose business it is to watch the ill-gotten treasure.-Others are dressed in the first fashion, walking about, acting as spies on the conduct of the Croupiers.-Others are stationed still more out of sight, to watch the movement of the spies. There are others again (Decoy Ducks), whose duty it is to play for the purpose of exciting the unwary stranger to commence his ruin. Four of those animals (Croupiers) are destined to pay the lucky player, and draw to the bank (which they do very dexterously by the aid of a little Ráteau a machine of mahogany very elegantly made in the shape of a garden rake), the money lost by those Gamesters unfavoured by the decree of fate. The number of the latter, is to the former, in the proportion of 999 to 1. OCTOBER, 1823. The Summer's sun is gone, and Autumn's brown As what of course were made to come and go, Seems o'er his vat determin'd not to know, May be for other lips to drink to him who's gone. The most robust in health and strength may say,. And scarcely one be heard thy name to tell, Manchester, 12th Oct. 1823. TEMPERATURE. Inches. 29.78 30.15 29.00 1.15 .57 3.9 11 Degrees. 55°.7 57.2 54.7 50.2 69. 39. 30. 16. 820400 Oct. 15th, great fall of the barometer; at bed time of the preceding night it stood at 29.30, this morning at 29.00, being the minimum of the day; the mercury then rose as rapid, at bed-time it had gained .42 of an inch-21st, a very rainy day, the river Irwell gained twelve feet in the course of the morning :- 22nd, heavy hail and rain in the course of the morning, and great rise of the barometer:-30th, very heavy showers of rain about four o'clock p. m. Character of the month, cold and wet. Prevailing winds, west, and north-west: MINE OF VIRGIN IRON. Nature every day shows us new phenomena, and, in spite of all our study and research, the most surprising are perhaps still hidden from our view. A mine of virgin iron has lately been discovered in the Missoury country, district of Washington; it forms almost an entire mountain, which is said to be large enough to supply the whole world for many years with metal of a good quality. Hitherto iron had never been met. with in a pure metallic form. MISSION TO THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA, FOR THE DISCOVERY OF THE NIGER'S COurse. We have the greatest satisfaction in announcing that our three enterprising countrymen, Dr. Oudeney, Major Denham and Lieutenant Clapperton, who left London on the above interesting and hazardous expedition,. under the authority of government, in 1821, arrived in Bornou in February last, and were exceedingly well, received by the sultan of that kingdom. It may be recollected that the Doctor, an eminent professor fromone of the Scotch universities, was to remain at Bornou as British vice-consul, and that the others would thence pursue their inquiries as to the course of this long-sought river; but it is obvious that the plans and instructions laid down at home for the prosecution of objects where our local knowledge is so extremely imperfect, must be liable to many alterations, and that much, very much, must be left to the discretion of the travellers themselves, and be governed by the circumstances in which they are placed. These gentlemen have, however, given the most convincing proofs of their undiminished ardour in the | service, as well as their fitness for the undertaking, in their having performed their journey over deserts fifteen or sixteen days in length, into the very centre of the continent of Africa, almost without complaining of a single bardship, though they have all at different times suffered severely from the rigours of the climate. We think, therefore, the most sanguine expectations may be formed of their complete success; and may we not hope that two of our greatest geographical desiderata in the northern hemispheres will, ere long, be supplied by means of the intelligence and enterprise of Englishmen ? THE EYE.-Dr. Sömmering discovered the foramen centrale in the human retina; since which, the eye-balls of all animals have been carefully examined for this important structure, and several of the quadrumanous genera (especially the real apes) have been found to possess it. stone. The But Dr. Knox, in a communication to the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, now states a very important fact in the theory of vision, and perhaps in that of light, namely, that the foramen centrale and accompanying fold of the retina exist in the class of reptiles, "Lizards," though not in all. For instance, the Lacerta scutato, superciliosa, Calotes, &c. have them; while the Mabuya, Gecko, &c. have not. appearances are more developed than in man, and con. sequently may be submitted to closer scrutiny. LITHOCROMY.-This is the name given by the French to the art of reproducing coloured pictures on Hitherto it was confined to mere crayon tints, which it rivalled in fineness, lightness, and precision. A Mons. Malapeau has invented a process by which the engravings are effected at once in colours. They are very nearly equal to oil paintings, and are transferable to canvass, and susceptible of varnish, scumbling, and the other processes adopted in the case of oil paintings. TELEGRAPHS.-The Baron de St. Haouen, has invented a telegraph to be used by night or day, on land or at sea. He proposes, to erect stations along the whole French coast, which are to serve as signals by day, and light-houses at night. They are to be nuanbered, and the numbers are to be marked in charts. Thus vessels on approaching the coast will be instantly aware of their position. The French army in Spain has adopted the system. FINE ARTS. Our countryman, Mr. John Gibson, who now ranks among the distinguished sculptors at Rome, is sought after by the great patrons of Art, both English and foreign, and has full employment for his admirable talent. This young man, who is recommended no less by his modest and unassuming manners than by his genius and enthusiasm for his Art, was originally enabled to study in Italy by the friendship of Mr. Roscoe and some gentlemen of taste at Liverpool, and of Mr. Watson Taylor-to them he owed his introduction to Canova, and he perfected his style under the eye of that great master. Mr. Gibson thus expresses himself in a recent letter to a friend in London : "I continue to feel delighted in Rome, more so than I can express by words, and am on the best terms of friendship with sculptors from all parts of Europe, who are here, all contending for glory. What an advantage! to see the productions of so many men of ge Count Schönbrunn, to execute a Nymph for him, in marble. "I consider myself particularly fortunate in having this opportunity to execute Poetical subjects in marble rather leave behind me a few fine works than a splendid -they are what I delight and glory in. I would much fortune." CORRESPONDENCE. SALFORD CHARTER. TO THE EDITOR, SIR,-Amongst the other interesting manuscripts in the Chetham library, is a copy of the Charter of Salford, which is there ascribed to Randle Gernouns. On mentioning this circumstance to a respectable and well informed friend of mine in Salford, he shewed me the nearer: arts and sciences; law, physic, and divini ty; every thing turns to lead under my unfortunate touch: if I attack the charlatanism of physic, I am told my observations are quite common place; if I ever so gently animadvert on the selfishness or inattention of the ministers of religion, I am informed that the unlearned and inexperienced in all ages and countries, have made the same unfounded and erroneous remarks; and at length; is it to be endured! I am thrown aside without even the cold notification of "Pilgarlick's communication is received" for it was but lately I sent, as I conceived, a most excellent paper on the subject of attornies keeping travellers; which I had taken down nearly word for word as it was uttered by a witty pleader in the Manor Court of Salford: this article for brilliancy and solidity eclipsed all the former, and was redolent, if I may be allowed the expression, of wit; this redolent is a pretty word and I conld not resist the a nearly correct translation of the same, entitled "Copy temptation of making use of it here, and must therefore of a Charter granted to Salford in the reign of King plead guilty to the charge of having rather forcibly Henry II. supposed to be about the year 1142;" which pressed it into my service; but I have good authorities for it; three or four at least: well, I thought this he had reason to believe was copied from the books of the Court Leet. article could not fail of obtaining a conspicuous place, The palpable chronological error of fixing the reign of Henry II. in the year 1142 immedi- perhaps too in large type; and therefore on the followately struck me; and if the original be lost, as is said, ing Saturday I very early obtained an Iris, and anxiousthe authenticity of this copy becoming a matter of inly referred to the notices to correspondents, and not teresting enquiry, I have taken some pains in the infinding any to me, concluded my paper was inserted; vestigation. On comparing the copy with which my and with a fluttering heart and trembling hand turned friend favoured me, with that in Whitaker's History over the pages, then turned them over again, and then of Manchester, the one in the College library, and the again; but to my unspeakable chagrin and mortification Placita de Quo Warranto Ducatus Lancastriæ, lately I found it all a blank! a cheerless void! nothing but a published by order of the Commissioners of Public sober essay from the club at the green dragon, a hop Records, I am quite satisfied as to the correctness of skip and a jump epistle from Watty, and part of a new the document, although I differ both with the learned -old Romaunt of Llewellyn which was never conand industrious Kuerden, and with the Clerk or Recluded by the way is Llewellyn sick or sulky that he corder of the Court Leet as to its date. does not finish his Romaunt: I have some recollection In 1142, daring the tumultuous reign of Stephen, Ranulph Earl of a Machine-Maker running foul of him, and giving of Chester, called Randle Gernouns, took his weak him a malicious rub when under full majestic sail as I, and unhappy king prisoner, and obtained from him as and doubtless be, fondly thought for the port of immorthe terms of his ransom, a grant of the castle and city tality: but such a trifle ought not to have prevented of Lincoln, with the lands of William de Albeney, admired as far as it went: it was only one of those him from finishing his piece, which was generally de Poicton, from Northampton to Scotland, "till he Lord of Belvoir and Grantham, and those of Roger little jogs which people receive when in a crowd to make them more circumspect and should have been taken accordingly. I myself am possibly at this and in this I will venture to assert I am not singular: moment earning a rap on the knuckles: but no matter I am willing to appear in print almost in any shape: how many do you suppose of the fourteen hundred odd who lately graced the Liverpool fancy ball-how many I say, do you suppose on that occasion betrayed their dulness and stupidity: what then, their names appear in the public papers as having figured away in the characters of Greeks, Turks, American Savages, Shepherds and Shepherdesses; and is not that satisfaction enough, think ye. should be restored to all his lands and castles in Nor mandy." This grant comprising the lands inter Ripam ford; but the possession by Randle was only temporary and Mersam which belonged to Roger, includes Saland conditional, and could scarcely be sufficiently secure either to permit or induce him to grant Charters in the same year. He was poisoned by William Peverill, anno 1153, and was succeeded by his son Hugh, surnamed Cyvelocke. Hugh rebelled against Henry II. in 1173, but had his possessions restored in 1177. He died anno 1181, leaving a son, Ranulph surnamed Blundeville, then only 13 years of age. In the 13th Henry III. this Rannlph, who had married the widow of Geoffrey Earl of Richmond, fourth son of Henry II. received a grant or confirmation of all the lands between the Ribble and the Mersey, with the forests, keeps, homages, liberties, and appurtenances. I am inclined to think it was this Randle who gave the Charter to Salford, at some period between the date of this grant of the homages, &c. in the year 1229, and of his death, which took place in October, A. D. 1232. Our Salford friends are, I know, tenacious about their seniority to Manchester in chartered rights, and I am by no means desirous of undervaluing that feeling, but if I am correct, the difference in their favour is only about 70 years. I am not only open to conviction, but shall very happy if any of your correspondents will furnish me with information that would justify the relinSalford a date more ancient by 90 years than I am at present disposed to do. I am, Sir, yours, &c. HISTORICUS. Manchester, 13th Oct. 1823. be After this digression I must be free to confess that some of my neighbours have fared little better than myself; you editors have such a free and easy way of dismissing a correspondent A, for instance, is too stale: B, too flat: C, too sharp; and you will be glad to hear from him in a more natural key: the Red Dwarf is deficient in point as well as stature: and thus with 3 single trait, as it were, of your editorial plume, you unfeelingly stifle our aspirations after celebrity. 'Sdeath why you dispatch us "with as little remorse as you Sir, do you think it nothing to extinguish a genius: would drown a bitch's blind pappies 15th litter" 'tis not to be borne; and if you dont speedily effect a reform, in your manners I mean, in this respect, I'll positively withdraw my countenance from you entirely, nius, and to have their remarks upon what I do my- quishing my present opinion, and giving the Charter of and leave yon to the due pnnishment of your own per self! for I always solicit their advice. Only poetical subjects are admired in Rome, and it is the fashion to purchase such. It is a taste for these that has raised the Art to its present high pitch at Rome, and to this may be attributed the dignity and beauty of Canova and Thorwalsen. I thank God for every morning that opens my eyes in Rome. "I am giving the last finish to the group of Mars and Cupid, for the Duke of Devonshire. My group of Psyche carried off by Zephyrs, for Sir Geo. Beaumont, is in a forward state. I am making a statute of Cupid in marble for Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, and a Sleeping Shepherd for Lord George Cavendish. Lately I received an order from a German Nobleman, LITERARY MISERIES. MR. EDITOR,-Of all the miseries in this miserable life, literary miseries are surely the keenest: here have been writing week after week, article after article in the expectation of acquiring a portion of tempory fame in the pages of the Manchester Iris. In vain do I worry my brains to indite something new ; I am never verseness. Your's, Manchester, 14th Oct. 1823. PILGARLICK. THE DRAMA. On Saturday evening, the 11th instant, Mr. Macready appeared as Virginius, in the admired and popular tragedy of that name. This piece strongly exemplifies, how, by the contingencies of life, a transition is often experienced from one, to an opposite extreme. It was delightful to behold the noble minded Virginins mark the diffidence and delicate embarrassment of his lovely daughter Virginia, as he cautiously sounded her breast and drew forth a tacit disclosure of her tender feelings |