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dows, which light the coffee-room, and on each side are two others richly decorated. The inside is singularly handsome and elegant. The west front of the Royal Exchange varies but little from the north front, except the want of a pediment. The dome is noble and lofty, and supported by twelve composite fluted columns: the entablature over the columns is ornamented in a splendid manner, and above there are twelve circular windows. The ceiling of the dome is decorated with stucco ornaments in the masonic taste, divided into small hexagonal compartments, and in the centre is a large window, illuminating most of the building. The internal decorations, by their minuteness, seem better adapted to a drawing-room than an Exchange. Mr. Thomas Cooley architect. The Dublin merchants offered premiums for designs in 1769.

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Custom House. This is a very superb building-approach to it through the lower Abbey-street bad. This noble pile consists of two large courts, with a central building, enclosed by stores and other offices at the east and west. The plan extends three hundred and eighty by two hundred feet. The principal front to the south, which claims most attention, is an octangular vestibule of Bath stone, on the first floor, with Doric columns. This room is lighted from a cone ceiling, decorated with emblems of commerce and other ornaments. It leads to the import room, commonly called the long room,seventyfive feet square, divided by rows of columns on each side, leaving an area of forty feet wide and thirty high. The columns are of Bath stone standing wide on pedestals; behind which are the desks, and other accommodations for the different officers, and a sufficient space for conducting business. There is a beautiful staircase built of Bath stone, decorated with composite columns, the capitals of which are composed of naval emblems From this stair-case you pass by an anti-room leading to the board room in the north front, the lower part of which is appropriated to secretaries' apartments, with residences for the commissioners at each end. This building has the advantage of four fronts, of which that towards the south is of Portland stone. The principal, or south, front, situated to wards the river, is composed of pavi lions at each end, with insulated columns. The basement is united with the centre of the build ng by rusticated

arcades. This part is likewise composed of insulated columns, besides the portico in the middle, which consists of four columns. The order is Doric, and finished with an entablature having a bold projecting cornice. Over the portico there is a pediment with figures in aito relievo, composed by Carlini, but executed by Smith, an Irish artist, whose genius does honour to his native country: the subject is, Hibernia and Britannia united, holding in their hands the respective emblems of Peace and Liberty: they are seated in a naval car, drawn by sea-horses, and accompanied by tritons, followed by a fleet of merchant ships, loaded with the produce of different nations, and wafted by the trade winds. On the right hand of Britannia, Neptune is seen driving away Envy and Discord. On the attic story over the pediment are placed four allegorical figures, alluding to Industry, Commerce, Wealth, and Navigation. A cupola one hundred and twenty-five feet from the base of the building, handsomely decorated with Corinthian pillars, finishes the centre, on the top of which is placed a pedestal, with a colossal statue representing Commerce. The pavilions and arcades are finished with a balustrade; the centres of the pavilions are terminated with the arms of Ireland in an elliptical shield, decorated with festoons of fruits and flowers, and supported by the lion and the unicorn, forming a group of bold and massy ornaments. The principal entrances are ascended by a flight of steps; the keystones are decorated with colossal heads, emblematic of the produce of the principal rivers of Ireland, and the country through which they flow, strongly cha racteristic of each. This building was begun in 1781, and is remarkable for the beauty and grandeur of its outlines, and the elegance of its parts.—The chef d'œuvre of Mr. Gandon.

The collection of the customs in Ireland is attended with more expense than in England. A single distiller there pays more duty than an extensive tract of country in Ireland. One officer only is required to inspect the former, whereas forty or fifty are absolutely necessary to watch the latter. There are twentysix ports in Ireland, of which nineteen do not produce a revenue equal to guarding them and collecting the duty; and the whole balance in the public favour arises from seven ports, Dublin, Cork, Waterford, Belfast, Limerick, Derry, and Newry.

The Dublin Society of Arts is supported by the national spirit of individuals, which is assisted by occasional parliamentary aid. The whole is under the superintendance of General Vallencey, chief engineer of Ireland, author of the Vindication of the Ancient His'tory of Ireland. Its object is the promotion of those arts that are most propitious to the amelioration of that country. In the hall are several pillars from the Giant's Causeway. In a long gallery are several busts and casts, and at one a fine cast of Laocoon. Near the Laocoon is a model of the celebrated bridge of Schaffhausen over the Rhine. In the library are excellent imitations of basso-relievo by De Grey, a promising young artist, from the subject of Ceres and Triptolemus; which bear a strong affinity in names and meaning to the Irish cairim, or cuirim, to sow or plant, and treamtalamh, à plower of the earth. In the society there are three schools, for drawing, engraving, and designing, to each of which fifty boys are admitted. The drawing-master has a salary of 100%. per annum, and devotes three hours to his pupils three days in a week. Every article necessary for drawing is pro vided at the sole expense of the society. Ireland has produced a Barry and other distinguished artists from this school. Under the same roof is the Leskea num Mineral Museum, in which there is a fine collection of fossils. The fossils are all admirably arranged, labelled, and catalogued. Amongst them I was much gratified by some very fine wood agates, ships of oak petrified, chrystallized water, pheasant's eye agate spoon, a beautiful polished milk-white opal enclosing a drop of loose water, some fine spars, several curious petrifactions of fish and plants. In the Regnum Animale, amongst many precious shells, are specimens of the Nautilus, Venus's Cockle. This is one of Nature's happiest efforts, and is exhibited as a great and precious rarity. There are also some horns which belonged to the moose deer, a race of animals which are now extinct in Ireland, dug out of bogs. Several Irish minerals, and gold from the Wicklow mountains. In the Numarium is some beautifully painted glass by Richard Hand, coloured in 1794. The exhibitionroom is about seventy feet long, thirty broad, and twenty-five high. In the model-room were a great number of ingenious models of mills, ploughs, &c.

There are four professors attached to this society; viz. of Chemistry and Mineralogy, 3091. per annum; of Botany, 3001; of Experimental Philosophy, 1001.; and of the Veterinary Art, 1167. The society has a botanical garden, near a small village called Glasnevin, about one mile from Dublin, in which there is a large collection of indigenous plants, &c. (To be continued.)

To the Editor of the European Magazine.

SIR,

YOU

OU will, perhaps, permit me to observe, that the sentiments in the following extract are highly worth the notice of those in power, to whom the matter relates, as being peculiarly applicable (as well) to the present state of feeling, and knowledge in the British Navy; consequent upon the march of public instruction, and the genius of the age in which we live

I trust, Sir, you will do me the jus tice to believe, I am actuated by pure motives, in soliciting notice (if not inconvenient) for this communication in the highly-prized columns of your interesting work; and am, with sincere respect, Sir, your very humble servant,

AN OLD SEA OFFICER.

Extract from the Ghent Journal

(Netherlands); 24th Sept. 1816.

"A CAUSE of desertion lies in those gothic regulations, in those barbarous and degrading punishments to which it is endeavoured to subject the soldiers. The cane revolts the Belgian as much as the Frenchman. None but ministers

who are strangers to the kingdom could be ignorant of this."

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These punishments are not only degrading to the soldier, on whom they are inflicted, but the disgrace is reflected on the officer who presides at them; and it does so in this way. He is aware that the soldiers must feel repugnance to execute upon their comrade the work of hangmen, and that if they cherish no personal animosity against the sufferer, pity, and a very laudable sentiment of humanity, lead them to mitigate the stripes. What a humiliating task does not this kind of punishment impose upon the officer, where the infliction cannot take place by a species of mechanism? Such are the causes which foment desertion; let them be put an end to; and seduction will no longer find victims among our national troops."

FRAGMENTA.

BEING THOUGHTS, OBSERVATIONS, REFLECTIONS, AND CRITICISMS, WITH ANECDOTES AND CHARACTERS ANCIENT

AND MODERN.

No. XVI.

MENAGE, in whose works the fol

thinks it of consequence enough to become the foundation of a style in burlesque poetry, to be called Le style niais;"'Anglicé and Vulg. "The uizy style."

"LE FAMEUX LA GALISSE.

MESSIEURS, Vous plait-il d'onir

L'air du fameux la Galisse, 11 pourra vous rejouir,

Pourvu qu'il vous divertisse.
La Galisse eut peu de bien,

Pour soutenir sa naissance,
Mais il ne manqua de rien,
Dés qu'il fut dans l'abondance.
Bien instruit dés le berceau,
Jamais, tant il fut bonnéte,
Il ne mettoit son chapeau
Qu'il ne se couvrit la tête.
Il étoit affable et doux,

De l'humeur de feu son pere,
Et n'entroit guéres en couroux,
Si ce n'est dans la colere.

Il vouloit dans ses repas,

Des mets exquis et fort tendres, Et faisoit son Mardi gras, Toujours la veille des Cendres.

De l'inventeur du raisin

Il reveroit la memoire,
Et pour bien gouter le vin,
Jugeoit qu'il en falloit boire.

Il disoit que le nouveau
Avoit pour lui plus d'amorce,
Et moin il y mettoit d'eau

Plus il y trouvoit de force,

Il consultoit rarement
Hippocrate et sa doctrine,
Et se purgeoit seulement,
Quand il prenoit medecine.
Au piquet par tout payis,

Il jouoit suivant sa pante,
Et comptoit quatre vingt dix,
Lorsqu'il marquoit un nonante.

Il savoit les autres jeux

Qu'on joue à l'Académie, Et n'etoit pas malheureux Tant qu'il gagnoit la partie, Il aimoit à prendre l'air,

Quand la saison etoit bonne, Et n'attendoit pas l'hyver, Pour vendanger en autònney's Europ. Mag. Fol LXX. Dec. 1816

Il epousa, ce dit on,

Une vertueuse Dame; S'il avoit vêcu garçon,

Il n'auroit point eu de femme. Il en fat toujours cheri, Elle n'etoit point jalouse; Si tot qu'il fut son mari, Elle devint son épouse. Il passa pres de huit ans

Avec elle, fort a l'aise, En eut jusqu'a huit enfans,

C'etoit la moitie de seize.

On dit que dans ses amours,
Il fut caressé des belles,
Qui le suivirent tojours,

Tant qu'il marcha devant elles. D'un air galant et badin,

Il courtesoit sa Caliste, Sans jamais être chagrin, Qu'au moment qu'il etoit triste. Il brilloit comme un Soleil, Chevelure etoit blonde: Il n'eût pas eu son pareil, S'il eût été seul au monde. Il eût des talens divers,

Meme on assure une chose, Quand il ecrivoit en vers,

Qu'il n'ecrivait pas en prose.

En matiére de rebus

Il n'avoit pas son semblable: S'il eût fait des impromtus, Il en eút été capable.

Il savoit un triolet

Bien mieux que sa patenôtre : Quand il chantoit un couplet, Il n'en chantoit pas un autre. Il expliqua doctement

La physique et la morale,
Et soutint qu'une jument
Etoil tojours une cavale.
Par un discours serieux

Il prouva que la berluë,
Et les autres maux des yeux
Sont contraires à la vue.
Chacun alors applandit
A sa science inouïe,
Tout homme qui l'entendit,
N'avoit pas perdu l'ouïe.
I pretendi en un mois
Lire toute l'ecriture,
Et l'auroit lue une fois,
S'il en eut fait la lecture.
Par son espirit et son air

Il s'aquit le don de plaire:
Le Roi l'eut fait Duc et Pair
S'il avoit voulu le faire,
Mieux que tout autre il savoit
A la cour jouer son vole,
Et jamais lorsqu'il buvoit
Ne disoit une parole.
Il choisissoit prudement

De deux choses la meillenre,
Et repetoit frequemment,
Ce qu'il disoit à toutek, urg
3 T

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En mon triste et doux chant,
D'un ton fort lamentable,
Je jette un oeil tranchant
De perte incomparable,
Et en soupirs cuisans
Passe mes meilleurs ans.
Fut-il tel malheur,
De dure Destinée,
Ny si triste douleur
De dame fortunée,

Qui mon cœur et mon oeil
Vois en bierre et cercueil?
Qui, en mon doux printems
Et fleur de ma jeunesse,
Toutes les peines sens
D'une extrême tristesse,
Et en rien n'ay plaisir,
Qu'en regret et desir.
Ce qui m'estoit plaisant;
Or m'est peine dure,
Le jour le plus luisant
M'est nuit noire et obscure,
Et n'est rien si exquis,
Qui de moy soit requis.
J'ay au cœur, et a l'oeil,
Un portrait et image,
Qui figure mon devil;
Et mon pasle visage
De violettes teint,

Qui est l'amoureux teint.
Pour mon mal estranger
Je ne m'arreste en place;
Mais j'en ay beau changer,
Si ma douleur j'efface
Car mon pis et mon mieux,
Sont mes plus deserts lieux.
Si en quelque sejour,
Soit en bois ou en prée,
Soit pour l'aube de jour;
Ou soit pour la vesprée,
Sans cesse mon cœur sent
Le regret d'un absent.
Si par fois vers ces lieux,
Viens a dresser ma veüe,
Le doux trait de ces yeux,
Je vois en une nüe ;
Soudain je vois en l'eau,
Comme dans un tombeau.
Si je suis en repos,
Sommeillant sur ma couche,
J'oye qu'il me tient propos,
Je le sens qu'il me touche.
En labeur, en recoy,*
Toujours est prest de moy.
Je ne vois autre objet,
J'our beau qu'il se presente,
A qui que soit subjet,
Oncques inon cœur consente
Exempt de perfection,
A cette affliction.
Mets chançon, icy fin
A si triste complainte,
Dont sera le refrein

A mour vraye et non feinte,
Pour la seperation,

N'aura diminution.

In melting strains, that sweetly flow,
Tun'd to the plaintive notes of woe;
My eyes survey, with anguish fraught,
A loss beyond the reach of thought;
While pass away life's fairest years
In heaving sighs and mournful tears.
Did cruel Destiny e'er shed

Such horrors on a wretched head ?
Did e'er once happy woman know
So sad a scene of heartfelt woe?
For ah! behold on yonder bier
All that my heart and eyes held dear.
Alas! even in my blooming hours,
Mid opening youth's resplendent flow'rs,
I'm doom'd each cruel pang to share,
Th'extremest sorrows of despair,

Nor other joy nor bliss can prove
Than grief and disappointed love.
The sweet delights of happier days
New anguish in my bosom raise,
Of shining day the purest light
To me is drear and gloomy night;
Nor is there aught so good and fair,
As now to claim my slightest care.
In my full head and streaming eyes,
Pourtray'd by woe, an image lies,
Which sable robes but faintly speak,
Or the pale languor of my cheek;
Pale as the violet's faded leaf,
The tint of love's despairing grief.
Perplex'd by this unwonted pain,
No place my steps can long detain;
Yet change of scene no comfort gives,
Where sorrow's form for ever lives.
My worst, my happiest state of mind
In solitude alone I find.

If chance my listless footstep leads
Thro' shady groves or flow`ry meads,
Whether at dawn of rising day,
Or silent evening's setting ray,
Each grief that absence can impart,
Incessant rends my tortured heart,
If to the heavens, in rapturous trance,
I haply throw a wistful glance,
His visionary form I see,
Pictured in orient clouds; to me,
Sudden it flies, and he appears,
Drown'd in a wat'ry tomb of tears.
Awhile if balmy slumbers spread
Their downy pinions o'er my head,
I touch his hand in shadowy dreams,
His voice to soothe my fancy seems.
When waked by toil or lull'd by rest,
His image ever fills my breast.
No other object meets my sight,
Howe'er in robes of beauty dight,
Which to my sad despairing beart
One transient wish will e'er impart,
Exempt from that unalter'd woe
Which this sad breast must ever know.
But cease my song, cease to complain,
And close the sadly plaintive strain,
To which no artificial tears,
But love unfeign'd the burthen bears;
Nor can my sorrows e'er decrease,
For ah his absence ne'er can cease.

Recoy, from Requies, Repose,

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