from private life, however they abound in vice, are full of the amiability of friendship, and tempt one to cry out, "Let me live in the land where such things have been said, Let me fly from the land where such deeds have been done." There have been more rules promulgated and essays written on the subject of conversation than, I believe, on any other; yet it seems to be the least of all understood. It would be easy to fill this whole Number with maxims and regulations concerning it, even if we confined our quotations to the modern preceptors of politeness, commencing with Il Cortegiano of Castiglione, and terminating with my Lord Chesterfield. But they are all, for the most part, like the philosopher in Rasselas, who first told him to follow nature, and, in his explication of nature, went into the deepest intricacies of art. Conversation, like all other habits, is a discipline, not a study; and would be generally understood if there were proper schools to practise as well as learn it in. But a school must have laws, and this does not please the young radicals of manners, who say, that where there is not perfect liberty and equality, there is nothing, -above all, no conversation. For my individual part, I hate republican manners, as an attempt to establish what cannot be a perfect equality among mankind. In spite of law and generalizing appellations, one man will out-top another, and assume the tone of elevation natural to his success. If this be acknowledged and recognised, it becomes a matter of course, an insignificant and unthought-of distinction; but when it appears of itself, unsanctioned by custom and authority, (and it must appear,) the proud feelings of others are awakened and fretted, which, in the open and natural ordination of rank, could not have repined at the general course of things. Thus by avoiding the simple inequality of dress and ceremony, the insolent one of bearing and behaviour becomes necessarily more strongly marked; and in seeking to destroy all envy on the one hand, and pride on the other, the bitterest seeds of both are sown, which start up the stronger, the deeper they are buried. As there are no two sets of features exactly alike, so there Every one must have experienced, on perusing the commencement of that delightful book "Marmontel's Memoirs," an incredulity of the existence of such a simple and united state of society as is there depicted. The incredulity occasioned by other accounts as well as this, has often been corrected by experience. "In reading Madame Roland's curious and interesting Memoirs,' I was forcibly struck by the vivid and delightful picture drawn of the innocent recreations which were taken by her little family in the woods of Vincennes and the groves of St. Cloud, on Sundays and holidays; and I thought them descriptive of manners too purely primitive to belong, at the present day, to such a city as Paris. These pictures, however, I saw a hundred times repeated, not only in the public gardens of the metropolis, but in all the environs of the capital.""France," by Lady Morgan. are no two minds equal; if they meet and become intimate, one must put a yoke upon the other;-this may not take place in an evening, but in the end it is inevitable. No thorough intimacy, on this account, can take place between men of first-rate genius: each must have a sphere and orbit to himself, and of this it is likely that they have an intuitive knowledge-an apprehension of coming together. All this must be but conjecture on my part; but since the truth of the inequality of genius, and the necessity of one's overshadowing the other, struck me, I have always found it corroborated by example. In intellect, as in every thing else, there are gradations of rank, not only acquired by nature, but from peculiar pursuit, assiduity, and experience. The tact by which this is immediately apprehended, is the true key to conversation, as well as to more general politeness-to act with real deference, at the same time preserving independence, in one situation, and to assume the lead, when necessary, without shocking the self-loves of the company, in another. All this is included in that most useful part of learning" connoître bien ses gens"-to know your man. This superior good sense, to use a vulgar comparison, is like the constable's little truncheon of power, which, insignificant in appearance, all people are compelled to reverence and obey. The acute hermit of the Chaussée D'Antin well understood this, when, accounting for the diminished agreeability of society, he assigns as the reason, "c'est que les vieilles femmes nous manquent we have no old ladies. "That which in every country," continues he, "composes good society-women young and fascinating-youths polished and spirituel-men distinguished by their name, rank, or talents-all these are to be had to-day as easily as of old. But the bond of custom that connects these different elements, the link that holds them united, the invisible spring that sets them in motion-in a word, amiable matrons, are scarcely to be found even at Paris. I could nevertheless cite an example or two; but as few ladies, who have not yet attained the privilege of being no more, would think themselves flattered by the epithet vieille, I must recur to the days of Madame de Lambert, de Tencin, and du Deffant." We might echo the want" que les vieilles femmes nous manquent"—these amiable rallying points are not often enough met with amongst us, at least not in their proper stations, at the head of society. That union of years with the tender sex is not appreciated as it should be; for time does not act on the male and female heart alike-continually busied in erasing and confounding the impressions on one, it but softens and hallows the feelings of the other. Women "Never all grow old;" and there is that even about their grey hairs which youth, in "the very whirlwind of its passion," may appeal to with confidence. The chords of feeling vibrate in them to the last, and they thus possess a clue to all the little motives and errings of the "giddy young," which, to the sterner parent or friend, seem inexplicable obstinacy. Few will repent of following the maxim, "ixi γραια θαῤῥει,”—trust an old woman. Y. TRANSLATION. SONNET BY ALFIERI,* The Gauls teach Liberty!-let Britain first In dulcet accents, and harsh notes dismiss; From whom the nations all their knowledge learn! The supple slaves of every power in turn. SONETTO-D' ALFIERI. * Di Libertà maestri i Galli!-insegni L'Elveto, e l' Trace a porre in fior' i regni.- E Taide esempio alle donzelle sía D'ogni altra cosa insegnatori altrui! Servi noi siamo, ma servi ognor frementi, Non quai foste, e quali or siete vui, Servi al poter qualunque ei sia plaudenti. H. LETTERS FROM SPAIN.-BY DON LEUCADIO DOBLADO. My residence in this town, after visiting Olbera, was short and unpleasant. The yellow-fever, which had, some months before, appeared at Cadiz, began to show itself in our large suburb of Triana, on the other side of the Guadalquivir. As no measures were taken to prevent communication with Cadiz, it is supposed that the infection was brought by some of the numerous seafaring people that inhabit the vicinity of the river. The progress of the malady was slow at first, and confined to one side of the street where it began. Meetings of all the physicians were convened by the chief magistrates, who, though extremely arbitrary in matters of daily occurrence, are, in Spain, very timid and dilatory on any extraordinary emergency. Unconscious of the impending danger, the people flocked to these meetings to amuse themselves at the expense of our doctors, who are notoriously quarrelsome and abusive when pitted against each other. A few of the more enlightened among them ventured to declare their conviction that the fever was infectious; but their voice was drowned in the clamour of a large majority who wished to indulge the stupid confidence of the inhabitants. The disease, in the mean time, crossed the river; and following the direction of the street where it originally appeared at Triana-now quite overrun by the infection-began its ravages within the ancient walls of our town. It was already high time to take alarm, and symptoms of it were shown by the chief authorities. Their measures, however, cannot fail to strike you as perfectly original. No separation of the infected from the healthy part of the town: no arrangement for confining and relieving the sick poor. The governor who, by such means, had succeeded in stopping the progress of the fever would have been called to account for the severity of his measures; and his success against the infection, turned into a demonstration that it never existed. Anxious, therefore, to avoid every questionable step in circumstances of such magnitude, the civil authorities wisely resolved to make an application to the archbishop and chapter for the solemn prayers called Rogativas, which are used in times of public affliction. This request was granted without delay. The Rogativa was performed at the cathedral for nine consecutive days, after sunset. The gloom of that magnificent temple, scarcely broken by the light of the six candles on the high altar, which are of yellow wax on all occasions of grief, and the glimmering of the lamps along the aisles, combined with the deep and plaintive tones of forty singers chanting the penitential psalms, impressed the throng of supplicants with the strongest feelings which superstition can raise upon fear and distress. When the people observed the infection making a rapid progress in many parts of the town, notwithstanding the due performance of the usual prayers, they began to cast about for a more effectual method of obtaining supernatural assistance. It was early suggested by many of the elderly inhabitants, that a fragment of the true cross, or Lignum Crucis, one of the most valuable relics possessed by the cathedral of Seville, should be exhibited from the lofty tower called Giralda; for they still remembered when, at the view of that miraculous splinter, myriads of locusts which threatened destruction to the neighbouring fields rose like a thick cloud, and conveyed themselves away, probably to some infidel country. The Lignum Crucis, it was firmly believed, would, in like manner, purify the atmosphere, and put an end to the infection. Others, however, without meaning any disparagement to the holy relic, had turned their eyes to a large wooden crucifix, formerly in great repute, and now shamefully neglected, on one of the minor altars of the Austin Friars without the gates of the town. The effectual aid given by that crucifix in the plague of 1561, was upon record. This wonderful image had, it seems, finally stopped the infection, just when one half of the population of Seville had been swept away; thus evidently saving the other half from the same fate. On this ground, and by a most natural analogy, the hope was very general, that a timely exhibition of the crucifix through the streets would give instant relief to the town. Both these schemes were so sound and rational, that the chief authorities, unwilling to show an undue partiality to either, wisely determined to combine them into one great lustration. A day was, accordingly, fixed for a solemn procession to conduct the crucifix from the convent to the cathedral, and to ascend the tower for the purpose of blessing the four cardinal winds with the Lignum Crucis. On that day, the chapter of the cathedral, attended by the civil governor, the judges, the inquisitors, and the town corporation, repaired to the convent of St. Augustin, and, having placed the crucifix upon a moveable stage covered with a magnificent canopy, walked before it with lighted candles in their hands, while the singers, in a mournful strain, repeated the names of the saints contained in the Catholic litany, innumerable voices joining, after every invocation, in the accustomed response-Ora pro nobis. Arrived at the cathedral, the image was exposed to public adoration within the presbytery, or space reserved for the ministering clergy, near the high altar. After this the dean, attended by the chapter, the inferior ministers of the church, and the singers, moved in solemn procession towards the entrance of the tower, and, in the same order, ascended the five and twenty inclined planes, which afford a broad and commodious access to the open belfry of that magnificent structure. The worship paid to any fragment of the true cross is next in degree to that which is due to the consecrated host. On the view of the priest in his robes at one of the four central arches of the majestic steeple, the multitude who had crowded to the neighbourhood of the cathedral from all parts of the city, fell upon their knees, their eyes streaming with tears: tears, indeed, which this unusual sight would have drawn from the weak and superstitious on any other occasion, but which, in the present affliction, the stoutest heart could hardly repress. An |