shoulders to the finger-points, is displayed by removing the skin, which is left hanging in shreds; the skin of the head hanging behind the head; and the skin of the arm and leg hanging in like manner from each limb. Such is the odious and ridiculous figure, which stands in the sanctuary of the church, exhibiting itself in the tripping posture of a dancing-master, as if demanding praise from the strangers who are carried to view it. I declare, on the faith of one not unacquainted with art, nor with anatomy, that there is nothing of real anatomy-no, not the slightest representation of it, in this grotesque figure; and unless strangers are to admire the graceful attitude' and composed manner of a being under circumstances so excruciating, they can see nothing to cause admiration."

Passing through Certosa, the author reached Pavia at the close of evening, situated in a country, the fields of which are often seen bearing three crops at once; and where the vine trains along, and, borne up by the despoiled tree, spreads its shivering branches with thick leaves and clustering grapes, which form rich festoons, carried from space to space, while the whole ground below is covered with the finest grain. But Pavia, once so celebrated, with decayed fortifications and fallen battlements, her Gothic towers crumbling into ruins, present the painful and depressing ensigns of gloom and desolation. A multitude of houses are untenanted; the shops are mean; the doors of some of the churches are nailed up, and many of the buildings belonging to them converted into barracks.

Placentia next succeeds: a city, upon the walls of which are first beheld paintings in Fresco of some value. The cathedral displays those of Guercino, Carracci, and other celebrated masters in that style.

The theatre at Parma, "the city of Correggio," is sufficiently large for Paris, and even for London itself. The author visited it, and subsequently paid homage to the paintings of Correggio; the two celebrated pictures of Hannibal, by Carracci; the Espousals of the Virgin, by Procaccini; the Three Marys at the Sepulchre, the Descent from the Cross, by Schidoni, and other celebrated pictures.

From Parma he passed to Modena, the birth-place of Ariosto; and so particularly distinguished for the beauty of its inhabitants, that the artists take designs from their fellow-citizens; in consequence of which, people wholly unconscious of personal merit, find themselves converted, as it were, into Apostles, Saints, Madonnas, and heroes and heroines of antiquity.

At Bologna the author was particularly struck with the inimitable painting of the Adoration, by Ludovico Carracci, the St. Cecilia of Raffaëlle, and above all, Poussin's superb picture of the Murder of the Innocents.

After a residence of a few days, the author quitted Bologna for Florence; and there he seems to have delivered himself over to all those chaste impresses, which a mind rich in associations can never fail to indulge; even at ten leagues distance from that celebrated city, he even made notes for a sketch of its history.

Mr. Bell seems to have been a great lover of architecture; hence when at Florence, he visited all the palaces and churches; and gives too minute an account of them; we say too minute, because they had already been described in a multitude of books of travel. For this reason we make no extracts from any part of his observations on those

subjects, but his remarks upon the profession of a nun cannot be so lightly passed over.

"The profession of a nun can hardly be witnessed without exciting feelings of strong emotion. To behold a being in the early dawn of youth, about to forsake the world, while its joys alone were painted to the imagination, and sorrow, yet untasted, seems far distant-to see her, with solemn vows, cross that threshold, which may not again be repassed, and which separates her for ever from all those scenes, that give interest and delight and joy to life-to imagine her in the lonely cell, that is to replace the beauty and the grandeur of nature, presents a picture, that must fill the mind with powerful feelings of sadness. Such is the illusion, such the sensation, inspired by the solemn scene, that I believe, that he whose faith hallows, or he whom a different persuasion leads to deplore, the sacrifice, will yet, for the moment, behold it with equal emotion."

The author's observations relative to statues and paintings, indicate a richness of taste and an independence of criticism truly delightful; for though his remarks are for the most part concise, yet as they are evidently the results of his own impressions, aided by a good natural taste, they exhibit none of those absurdities of appreciation that are handed down from critic to critic, like the separate heir-looms to noblemen's estates. As an instance, we shall quote his opinion of the widely celebrated group of Hercules strangling the Serpents.

"This is a foolish, impracticable, and unpleasing subject; it may suit poetry, but makes execrable statuary. For it may be possible for Hercules, the son of Jupiter, to have attained strength to grapple even with a lion, it is impossible to conceive infant strength struggling with serpents, or at least it is impossible to represent such a group with effect. This infant Hercules is here regarded as one of the finest specimens of antiquity, and by common consent, pronounced exquisite. But I cannot agree to this, and not only quarrel with the subject, but with the statue as a work; the whole figure, in my opinion, presenting only inflated, turned, and shapeless forms. It appears, that the Torso is the only portion which is indisputably antique."

From Florence the author proceeded to Rome, and with a select portion of his observations on that city the work closes. These observations are not copious, but rich and valuable: especially those on the Antinous of the Belvidere; the Meleager of the Vatican; the Cleopatra in the gallery of the Museum; the Antinous; Venus rising from the Bath; and the Dying Gladiator.

TO HOPE.

THOU seemest as a vesper-star,

Sweet Hope! to him whose day is fading,

And shinest like a beacon far,

When night the wind-chafed waves is shading:

How sweet such twilight moments are,

When thou art by, when thou art aiding!

O sink not yet, sweet star!-not yet

Withdraw thy beam, thou beacon blaze !—

Full well I ween, the sun is set

That crown'd with light my childhood days;
And wilt thou vanish, now Regret

Weeps, as she eyes those lingering rays?

C.D.M.

Not I, my lord.

K. Rich. Then she disdains to shine; for by the book,
She should have braved the east an hour ago :-
A black night it will be to somebody."

Shakspeare-New Readings.

THE inhabitants of London, the citizens of this world-of brick and stone, are, I believe, for the most part, entirely ignorant of the intense interest which this night awakens in the less polished minds of those who inhabit the remoter parts of our island; and who, being consequently removed from a too close contact with the keen-edged chisel of civilization, (or rather refinement,) still contrive to preserve many of the more salient points of character, which in days of yore distinguished, more or less, every individual member of John Bull's numerous family. But for Brand's "Popular Antiquities," and Burns' more popular "Halloween," many of my readers had, perchance, never heard of that hallowed and spell-familiar night. All-Hallowmass had been to them a word unknown, or, what is just the same, a word without a meaning. Not so with the highlanders of Scotland, or the mountaineers of Wales. It is to them a season of fearful pleasure: fearful, because they have to bow before the shrine of sovereign superstition;-yet pleasant, because it is a night of mirth and revelry. Gentle reader, let me request of thee to cast aside for a few minutes the thought of thine own superiority, and suffer me to lead thee into the company of beings, less polished, indeed, but not a whit less honest, than thyself; and for this small sacrifice, thou shalt behold the amusements which are, at this moment the evening of this thirty-first of October-occupying the attention of some thousands of thy fellows.

The spot I now propose revisiting, hath no beautiful landscape to please the eye,-no romantic or legend-consecrated haunt to interest or awaken the imagination. Who would venture out on such a night, when neither moon nor stars are visible in the sable vault of Heaven? No man ever saw them shine on Halloween! As to thee, cold sceptic, reader of the LITERARY MAGNET, thou canst not judge upon the point; for, notwithstanding that thine eyes have frequently deceived thee, thou wouldst rather believe them than the solemn asseverations of ten thousand truth-telling peasants! With thee, I fear, "all men are liars," who do not see the self-same objects as thyself. But, I would ask-setting aside those who are as incredulous as thou art,—

"Where is he living, clipped in by the sea

That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales,"

MAGNET, VOL. IV. PART XXVI.

2 C

that ever beheld either moon or star, on this night of spells and charms and fearful incantations? I appeal to those who boast not, and have consequently no interest in, a monopoly of wisdom. By their decision let me 66 stand or fall!"

Memory does not furnish me with an older scene than my native hearth. I will describe it to you. It was a warm and social one; and with it are connected a thousand pleasing or melancholy recollections. Excuse me, kind reader, that I introduce thee to the kitchen rather than to the parlour; with the latter we have nothing at all to do. The sports of All-Hallowmass recognize no distinction of persons, and the young Miss is content to sit beside the "maid of all-work," to be instructed in the mysteries of futurity, and to partake of the hopes and fears which agitate the breasts of all around her.

Here then I stand upon "the neatly sanded floor." Behind me is our venerable oaken dresser, upon which the "elbow-grease" of many generations has conferred a matchless polish. In one of its drawers the best part of my earthly treasures lie concealed. Could you but look therein, you would see an heterogeneous assemblage of tops, taws, and teetotums, with as choice a collection of everies as ever graced the stores of a marble-playing urchin. Exposed to fuller view, are the bright shining rows of pewter plates, the pride of our old-style kitchen. There they have stood for many a live-long year, smiling upon their more modern and more brittle successors, of which they have already witnessed the "decline and fall" of several generations. Long may they continue to occupy their present conspicuous situation, and to give me, in my "few and far-between" visits, a glimpse into the hallowed, though now much abused, glories of the Olden Time. On my right hand the fast-pinned window, and the unusually bolted door, tell me it is a night of more than ordinary dread. On my left stands the contemporary of our oaken dresser, the antique eight-day clock, between which and the passage door are hung in festoons my carefully stringed birds' eggs, the fruits of many a summer, the spoils of many a ramble; and though I can reckon two hundred and forty of them, no one can point me out among the number, a wren's or a robin's. No, I never forgot the first rhymes with which my memory was charged :

He that robs the robin's nest,
Shall not in high heaven rest ;-
He who takes the wren's young brood,

Ne'er shall see the face of God.

I could gaze for ever upon the environs of the fire-place, but that

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the extreme brightness of the brazen candlesticks, the but-seldom-used pestle and mortar, with fifty other glittering utensils, "wisely kept for show," compel me to turn away my dazzled eyes, not, however, before casting a sidelong glance" upon those once-red-and-green striped bags, in which are enclosed the pistols of some valorous great-grandfather, now hung up in terrorem, and never more likely to be used! But what pleases my juvenile fancy most, is the long chain of apples which hangs suspended from the ceiling, the lower portions hissing and smoking like so many miniature steam-engines, as they are roasting before the large red fire, and dropping one after another into the pan beneath. Upon the table is a well-filled basket of nuts, and another of

apples and pears, sure signs of the now near approaching winter. much for the kitchen-now for the company!

So

There sits the timid Agnes! our constant guest on Halloween. Her cheerful countenance is lacking its accustomed smile, and its hue approaches nearer to the rose of York, than that of Lancaster; while the dark raven locks which "cluster round her head," form no unpicturesque (if I may use such a term) contrast with the neatly pinked mobcap of Mary, of whom anon.-There are but few tricks with which Agnes is not familiar, and though, notwithstanding her timidity, she has, ere now, stolen out unknown into the garden, and having knotted her garter,*" according to the form in that case made and provided," and watched it through the live-long night; yet her favourite one was to put the constancy of her lover to the test of Holy Writ; and, I'll stake my little stock of reputation, that the bible-bound key was never balanced upon the point of a fairer finger, or gave the wished-for sign more faithfully! Poor girl! her lover was then a being of romance! But, since those joyous and unchecked days, her bright horizon has been overcast by the dark clouds of adversity, and mayhap she has now to lament over the truth of the old proverb, that "when poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window !"

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Opposite to Agnes sits Mary-our Mary-the high-priestess of the night's ceremonies, to whose words all are as attentive as ever was Greek to the oracle of Delphi. Than her, no one has a choicer collection of wild tales of love and terror, or is so well acquainted with the legendary lore" of her native land. Her stock of songs and ballads is, I believe, perfectly inexhaustible; and her own peculiar and unadorned manner of singing them, contribute not a little to their charm. I will transcribe one, and though I am now removed far from the witchery of her sweet voice, there is to me even still, a something bordering on the pathetic in the strain--a something which, like the

* This trick, the use of which is mostly confined to the softer sex, is thus performed :— the "lassie "steals out unobserved into the garden, round which she must walk a certain number of times, (seven or nine, but I forget which,) and while so doing, must tie her garter into one or more true-love knots, repeating at the same time the following verse:

See this knot,-I tie it tight-
Emblem of a future one;
Let my true love come to-night,
And untie it-if he can.

When this is done, the knotted garter is to be fastened to the bed-post on retiring to rest; and if the charm works as it ought, about " the witching hour," the watching damsel may expect to see her lover come and attempt to untie it. If he comes not, then is he unfaithful! I fear the latter is too frequently the case, for

"Men are false, and oft ungrateful!"

The manner of performing this trick may not be known to all of my readers. I shall therefore be excused from appending this explanatory note. The party experimenting, lays the lower end of a key (that of the street-door is mostly employed,) upon the 16th and 17th verses of the first chapter of Ruth, and shutting the bible, binds it tightly round with a string a garter answers the purpose still better-then fixing in equilibrio the lower part of the handle of the key, which of course must project considerably above the the sacred volume, upon the point of the fore finger, the above verses are to be repeated. If all is according to the wishes of the party, and the sentiments expressed by the sacred quotation, the key with its appended volume will immediately turn round upon the finger: If not, it will continue stationary. The former, I believe, generally happens, if the experimentalist have sufficient faith in the operation.