much inquietude, what new conjuration I was performing with that extraordinary machine? I endeavoured to explain it, by putting a clean sheet of paper, and making him look into the instrument; but he no sooner saw the temple instantaneously reflected on the paper, in all its lines and colours, than he imagined that I had produced the effect by some magical process; his astonishment appeared mingled with alarm, and stroking his long black beard, he repeated the words Allah Mesch-Allah, (a term of admiration, meaning that which is made by God) several times. He again looked into the camera obscura with a kind of cautious diffidence, and at that moment some of his soldiers happened to pass before the reflecting mirror, were bebeld by the astonished Disdar walking on the paper; he now became outrageous; and told me that, if I chose, I might take away the temple and all the stones in the citadel; but that he would never permit me to conjure his soldiers into my box. Finding it vain to reason with his ignorance, I changed my tone, and told him if he did not leave me unmolested, I would put him into my box, and that he should find it a very difficult matter to obtain release. His alarm was now visible; he imediately retired, and ever after regarded me with a mixture of apprehension and amazement. Whenever he saw me enter the Acropolis he carefully avoided my approach, and never afterwards gave me any further molestation.

ABSENCE AND RETURN.

WHEN the summer day's o'er and the sun is declining,
And the last gilded mountain shall fade on the eye:
How it tells me the love round my heart now entwining,
May decline in its brightness, but never can die!

The object I gaze on with fervent affection;
The eye which now beams like the orb of the sky!
The heart I rely on will know no defection,

I all may possess—but may breathe out a sigh!
For distance may sever, though never effacing
The love once imprinted on bosoms sincere;

'Tis pleasure 'midst anguish the past thus retracing,
And the heart feels a glow, while the eye drops a tear!
Yet soon shall the bright king of day be ascending,
And rise in new splendor new joys to create:

Thus in absence and distance my thoughts are attending
The footsteps of one whose return I await!

FAREWELL TO CLARINDA.
Farewell, Clarinda! we must part-
The bitter sighs my bosom swell;-
Oh! how my lacerated heart,

Bleed's, as it faulters out-farewell!
Oh! I have lov'd thee-lov'd the dear,-
Thou wert the soul of life to me;
And ah! too plainly this sad tear,
Proclaims how much I lose in thee.
Yet though hard fate may far remove-
My steadfast heart shall never stray
For ere that beart can cease to love,
Its thobbing pulse must cease to play.

2222

COMFORT.

TREAD any path in life-the senate yields
Glory and joy from usefulness-at home
Is quiet bliss-gay vigor in the fields-
And wealth is their's that o'er wide oceans roam.
Rich travellers a constant welcome see:
The hours of him who marries not are free;
The poor their indigence by travail hide;
And happy is the bower that holds a bride.
Sweet is the joy that warms a parent's breast;
Free are the childless from prospective care;
Youth has high spirits; age respect and rest;
Then why of comfort should mankind despair;
Vain are the woes of care's unthankful brood
To grateful hearts all states of life are good.

SYMPATHY.

HOW often we chide in another the woe
That sympathy kindles in misery's name;
And yet will the tear in our eyes overflow,
And yet will our feelings be softened the same.
And this must be sorrow's most exquisite charm
The noblest and best it has power to bring,

For it acts on the broken in heart as a balm,

And steals from the breast of the wretched the sting. Then let the sad strains on the memory dwell,

Its music of woe will for ever be dear;

And the sigh that the fingers of Sympathy swell,
Will emb

eye it beguiles of a tear.

ACCOUNT OF THE INHABITANTS OF MADEIRA. FROM A NEW HISTORY OF THAT ISLAND.

THE natives, more particularly the laboring classes, are of a more dark and swarthy complexion than those of the colder climates of Europe; for which, it is probable, they may be indebted to a Mulatto or Moorish origin, in common with the natives of the parent branch of the peninsula, from which they are derived. It is only a few of the first families who bear the resemblance in complexion to the fair inbabitants of northern Europe; and this difference may be traced to a superior extraction. These islanders are generally of a middle stature, but athletic, well-limbed, active, and of great muscular strength, which renders them capable of sustaining the greatest fatigue; so much so, that they are often reduced to an emaciation of body and debility of constitution, which bring on premature old age; though long life appears to be, otherwise among the privileges which nature seems disposed to confer on them. The peasantry are sober, economical, and not merely inoffensive in their manners, but of dispositions the most courteous toward strangers, as among themselves. When they meet one of the latter, they take off their caps, and hope the Lord will prosper him; and, when they meet each other, they stand cap in hand, with ceremonious politeness, though under a perpendicular sun and the reflected heat of a rock, till they have satisfied each other as to the welfare of their wives, children, relatives, acquaintance, cattle, domestic animals, &c.; and it is a point of ceremony not immediately to be settled, which of the friendly social party shall first return the cap to its appropriate situation.

The higher classes are inclined to corpulence, as they are inactive and indolent, which may be one cause of it; and this disposition is attended with a temper somewhat morose, and a tendency to melancholy. Though sober, in

respect to their libations to Bacchus, the presiding divinity of the Island, they frequently indulge their appetite to excess in the luxury of the table. From this circumstance, with the sedentary life to which they habituate themselves, they become subject to chronic disorders, which are followed by the debilities of premature old age. The writer adds, that early marriages and a numerous offspring greatly shorten the youth, or at least the bloom and gaiety of female life. The mothers (he says) have often from six to twelve children, whom they generally suckle.

THOUGH the sun never shines on the grave where she
Nor flow'rets their fragrance bestow,

The traveller rests on his journey, and weeps
For the maid who reposes below.

When last I came by she was cheerful and gay,
And hope told of pleasure to come;

[sleeps,

But the Sylph with her sun-beam was stolen away,
And now she is cold in the tomb.

The friends that she lov'd can no longer be found,
They have breath'd an eternal adieu;

For, when fancy no longer breathes pleasure around,
Her vot'ries will fly away too.

Oh! light may her spirit recline on its pillow,
And gentle and soft be her sleep:

In the summers-mild eve I will sit by yon willow,
To think of her beauty and weep.

GAMING EXTRAORDINARY.

THE late General Scott, so celebrated for his success in gaming, was one evening playing very deep with the Count D'Artois and the Duke de Chartres, at Paris, when a petition was brought up from the widow of a French officer, stating her various misfortunes, and praying relief: a plate was handed round, and each person put in one, two, or three, louis-d'ors; but when it was held to the General, who was going to throw for a stake of 500 louisd'ors, he said "Stop a moment, if you please, Sir here goes for the widow!" The throw was successful, and he instantly swept the whole into the plate, and sent it down to astonished petitioner.

NIGHT.

WHEN I look forth into the face of night,
And see those silent orbs that gem the sky-
The moon that holds her glorious path on high-
The countless host of stars of lesser light,
All moving on their destined course aright,
Through the broad ocean of infinity,

Steer'd by the hand of Him whose glories lie
Beyond the stretch of mortal sense or sight-
When I behold all heaven divinely bright

With this array, and downward turn mine eyes,— My soul expands into its native might,

And loathes the burden of that coil that lies Like lead upon the soul, and clogs its flight Unto its purer seats and kindred skies.

LINES,

TWICE to the ark the gales of heaven
The feather'd herald bore:

When freedom was a third time given,
She then returned no more.
Thus, dearest Kate, thou must not be
Too oft a wanderer from me.

The heav'n-built ark of peaceful home
Thou still must learn to bear,
Nor pant with truant wing to roam
The delug'd world of care:
No resting place can ever suit,
So well as home a Mother's foot.

THE CHAIN OF LOVE.

IN wanton spot, my Doris from her fair
And glossy tresses, tore a straggling hair,
And bound my hands as if of conquest vain,
And I some royal captive in her chain.

At first I laughed-"This fetter lovely maid,
Is lightly worn and soon dissolved," I said:
I said: but ah I had not learned to prove
How strong the fetters that are forged by love.
The little thread of gold I stove to sever
Was bound like steel about my heart for ever;
And from that luckless hour my tyrant Fair
Has led and turned me like a single hair.