them in page (60) set forth with much less delicacy than minuteness.

'The ceremony of the Panchakaryam being closed, the person who had been expelled must give a grand entertainment. If he be a Brahman he gives it to the Brahmans, who flock to it from all parts; or if he belong to another cast, those that belong to it are his guests. This finishes the whole ceremony, and he is then restored to all his privileges.

'There are certain offences, however, so heinous in the eyes of the Hindoos as leave no hope of restoration. Such as a Brahman who had publicly married a woman of the detested tribe of the Pariah. If the woman were of any tribe less base, it is possible that, after repudiating her, and dis claiming all his children by her, many acts of purification and a large expense might at length procure his restoration. But very different would be the case of one who should be so abandoned as to eat of the flesh of a cow, supposing the idea of such enormous wickedness to enter into the heart of a Brahman or any other Hindoo of respectable cast. If such a portentous crime were by any possibility committed, even by compulsion, the abhorred perpetrator would be beyond all hope of redemption.

'When the last Musulman prince reigned in Mysore, and formed the ambitious desire of extending his religion over all the peninsula of India, he seized a great number of Brahmans and had them circumcised. Afterwards he made them eat cow's flesh, in token of renouncing their cast and their customs. After the war which liberated that people from the yoke of the tyrant, I know that not a few of those who had been forced to become Musulmen, made every effort, by offering large sums of money to be re-admitted into their cast, which they had not abandoned but through force. Assemblies were held in different parts for examining into this business, and the heads of the cast out of which they were formed decided unanimously that, after many purifications,

those who petitioned for re-admission might be cleansed from the complicated pollution contracted in their communication with the Moors. But when it was ascertained that those who were circumcised had been also under the necessity of eating cows' flesh, it was decided with one voice, in all their assemblies, that a pollution of that nature and such a prominent crime could by no means admit of forgiveness; that it could not be obliterated by presents, nor by fine, nor by the Panchakaryam. This decision was not confined to the casts of the Brahmans; for I know well that many Sudras in the same situation had no better success, and were all obliged to continue Musulmans.'

'But whatever the cast may be from which one has been expelled, much cost and many ceremonies are required to reinstate him. Even when he has regained his place, he never overcomes the scandal, the blot continually remains; and in any altercation he may fall into, his former misfortune is sure to be commemorated.'

From the selections we have made, a judgment may be formed of the general tenor of the work; as it advances the interest is considerably increased. In a future number we propose to give further extracts, which we hope will contribute to the amusement if not to the instruction of our readers.

ART. II.—Sketches of an Excursion to Dublin.

[Continued.]

P.

Dublin, April 25. AMONG the various objects which in every large city, claim the attention of a stranger, not the least prominent is the theatre. He may often find there much to illustrate the character of a people; and will obtain a closer insight into their manners and habits by a single visit, than he could by a laboured deduction from the observations of repeated daily walks. To one, however, who is as little fond

of dramatic representations as myself, a single evening at the play, will in most cases prove sufficiently irksome to prevent a desire of the speedy recurrence of another so employed; and yet with an ordinary degree of attention, he will be able to bring away enough of recollected incident to compensate his own personal inconvenience, as well as to afford. data by which to determine

The very age and body of the time,
Its form and pressure.-

I am far from objecting to theatric representations in themselves. They are often harmless, and sometimes useful. The drama is confessedly an important engine; and though it has been frequently prostituted to corrupt purposes, it has exerted, and is capable still of exerting a powerful and happy agency upon the character and manners of society; in influencing public sentiments, deepening the feeling of patriotism, and even in enlivening the moral sense, by embodying examples of history, and lashing popular follies. This is not the place, however, to discuss the merits or abuses of the stage, and I perceive that I am proceeding too far. I will only therefore add, that no one, I conceive, can witness the performance of the better plays of the great English dramatists, by the more distinguished actors of the British stage, but with real benefit, as well as heartfelt interest; and for myself I am free to say, that I have again and again beheld the various and delicate, but impassioned personations of Miss O'Neil; have listened to the classic, dignified, and lofty rehearsals of John Kemble, and have viewed the thrilling action, combined with the deep-toned pathos of Kean, with a satisfaction as I conceived, both rational and solid.

Last evening I went to the theatre Royal in this city; expecting little, and was therefore not much disappointed. Dublin is too near to London, the vortex of superior talent,

particularly in the scenick line, to retain long, any celebrated dramatic performer. The great play houses of Covent Garden and Drury Lane, are marts where theatric genius is in high demand; and accordingly, like Aaron's rod, they swallow up the supporters of each minor establishment, as soon as their pretensions and merits have recommended them to popular acceptance. In the metropolis of the empire, these buskin heroes are rewarded with better rations as well as pay: and while their vanity is also gratified by playing before the crowded audiences of Westminster, they have an opportunity, in the intervals of their campaigns, to visit the provincial boards, among which are comprehended the theatres in the capitals of the two sister kingdoms. The citizens of Dublin complain, and with seeming reason, that though their stage has produced not a few great actors, they have uniformly witnessed the speedy operation of the causes suggested; and instead of deriving any advantage from their fame, have found that they have only been brought forward to be speedily decoyed and impressed into the London service. But this grievance, if it may be so termed, acts with redoubled pressure upon the country establishments. At Belfast, the theatre was pointed out to me where Miss O'Neil commenced her brilliant career, and it was remarked, that whenever any new performer of more than common talent appears there, the individual is immediately bought up by the managers of the Dublin boards. How much farther these complaints might be found to extend, by those who would search the records of still humbler establishments, it is difficult to say: certain it is, that madame Catalini, the heroine of the British opera, has not been contented with the success which she has acquired even in London; but has repaired to the cities of the continent, to display her astonishing vocal powers, and gain fresh celebrity, before the delighted auditories of Paris, Berlin, and Vienna.

6

The theatre of Dublin is large, commodious and elegant; in each of these qualities greatly superior to that in Edinborough. The play was Wild Oats,' a comedy of little interest. Jones, of the Covent Garden train, played Rover very well. Mrs. Hodson, in lady Mary Amaranth, performed tolerably; nothing better. The entertainment was Blue Beard; a clumsy, stupid pantomime. It brought to mind, however, a humorous incident which is reported to have occurred during the performance of this very piece, at a time when the Pitt administration was thought to be peculiarly unfriendly to the Irish. One of the duets was singing which terminates with the words, 'pit a pat.' When finished, some one from the gallery briskly cried out,— arrah, there, you're right, my honey: down with Pitt, and up with Pat.'

Judging from what was witnessed last evening, the theatre in Dublin is not well attended, or at least at this season. The house was very thin; and such company as occupied seats in the boxes came in at a late hour. A good band played in the orchestra. The tunes of God save the king,' and 'St. Patrick's day in the morning,' were introduced between the play and afterpiece, during which every person in the house stood, and the men remained uncovered. They are played regularly each night, and always form the interlude. In the theatres of England and Scotland, God save the king,' commences the performance.

One of our friends, a member of the Dublin Society of Arts, gave us, a day or two ago, tickets of admission to the Botanic garden, which belongs to that Institution, and this morning we availed ourselves of them to visit it. It is distant from the city about two miles-on our walk there we crossed the Royal canal, and stopped to examine the locks: the construction of which is precisely similar to those in the Middlesex canal in Massachusetts. A boat was passing through them at the time.