This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online. It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the publisher to a library and finally to you. Usage guidelines Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. We also ask that you: + Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for personal, non-commercial purposes. + Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. + Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. + Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web at|http : //books . google . com/ / 1 TAIT'S M AG AZINE I FOR 1842. VOLUME IX. X EDINBUEGH: "WILLIAM TAIT, 107, PHiNCE'S STREET; SiaiPKJX, UABSUALL, & CO., LONDON; AND JOHN GUMMING, DUBLIN, MDCCCXLII. n • ••• • •, • « • • • . • *•• • •" ' • • • • • • • • • • PUBLIC Ll^\.^r EDINBURGH : From the Steam-Prete of Wiluam Tait, Printer, 107, Prinee*s Street x^ INDEX, AMii«|0,tiid Man^y-Lender ; » Tale, by Mrs. Gore, 143*, 205, 277, 345, 429, 489, 561, 693, 762 Aftin of Honour, . • • • . 454 A^kuntu, 270,344 AMa,Stiiyieni ; Moftii's Soenes in; revieieed, 528, 597 AgncaltmllBterestyThe 843 AirialtOTe, .... 68,*140,204,271, 344 Aaerict ; Bnckingfaam's Tonr in the Slave States of, 303 Aaoka, Duggms* Impiesaions of, 329 Amaiak ; Joeeph Stnige's Visit to, in 1841, . . 363 .Vaeiiaa; Diekena's Notes on; reriewed^ • • 737 Aadenon's Guide to the Highlands ; reviewed^ . 486 AniTensries, Thoughts on, .... 75 Aoisband Gift Books, for 1848 ; retietoed, . 814 Afiti-Gofn-Law Conferences, . , .137 Ajtni (James) on the Priyate Business of the (WiBonw, 554 Bfeliie,nie; Letters from; by a Lady, • • 37 Biaiii's Father Connell;rtfri0te«(^, . . . 458 Bnin, Tales and Sketches by, 231, 289, 369 BvjThe, 139 Bcuett (Dr.) on the Theology of the Early Church, 261 Bodbam; Memoirs and Corxespondence of, 443, 509 Bentlam's Table Talk, 509 Bettiae Brentano and Caroline Yon Qunderode, Cor- respondence between, 157 Bbdde (Profe»or) on the Study of Languages, 747 Blanny and Mottoes, ..... 227 Bmycastle's Newfoundland in 1842; revieteed, 819 RwiiDg'a Memoirs of Bentham; r&tiewed, . 443 firemer's Excursions in Russia, &c.; retievDed, 118 Brewster's Chartist and Military Discourses; r^. 822 Baekingham's Tonr in the Slaye States of America, 303 ftilwer'sZanoni; r Howard ; a novel ; retiewed, . . , 796 Page Fashionable Senators, • • • • . 647 Feastof the Poets, for 1842, . . . ,605 Fisher's Drawing-Room Scrap-Book, for 1843, • 814 Forest Life, in the Far West of America, • .617 Frederick's Tall Regiment ; A Story of . ,85 Friendship's Offering, for 1843 ; reviewed, • .814 Furze Cutters, The, by the O'Hara Family, . 231 Gange ; Story of the Marquise de, • . , %Z Garston's Greece Reyisited, and Sketches in Bgjpi, Sic, reviewed, 402 Glasgow Mortality Bill, The ; for 1840, . . 86 Gore's (Mrs.) Abednego the Money-lender; a Noyel, 143*, 205, 277, 345, 429, 489, 561, 693, 762 Grain, Consumption of, in the United Kingdom, 65 Iietheji6,l!he; reviewed, * . • . 478 He shall be a Soldier ; a Prussian Tale, . , 85 Holland ; Laing's Notes of a Trayeller, on ; rev., 169 Honour, Affairs of, ..... 454 Hood's Comic Annual for 1842 ; reviewed, . 59 Hope, The late Lord President, . . . 270 House of Commons ; Private Business of the, . 554 Hewitt's (Mary) Translation of "The Neighbours," 779 Hewitt's (W.) Visits to Remarkable Places; reviewed, 8 Hudson's Parent's Hand-book ; reui«io«i, . .817 Hume (Mr.) and the Montrose Burghs, , « 344 Hydropathy, or the Cold Water Cure, , . 879 Income-Tax, The ; .... 269,271,342 Indians, Catlin's North American ; reviewed, . 106 Lrish Treason in Paris ; by the O'Hara Family, 289, 369 Italy ; Mrs. Trollope's Visit to ; reviewed, . . 725 James' (Mr.) Morley Emstein ; r and in 1881, to 22,796. Many similar instances could be mentioned : but it is unnecessary ; as it is a fact well established, and of which abundant evidence may be found in writers on Population, that marriages and births are in proportioh to the deaths, or other causes of removal. Thus the necessity of an annual or periodical emigration, when once this remedy is resorted to as a cure for over-population, is apparent. With regard to the expense which is necessary for transporting great bodies of men, little experi- ence has yet been had. On two or three occasions^ however. Government has advanced money for the transportation of emigrants. In 1819, £50,000 were advanced to assist 5000 persons to proceed to the Cape of Grood Hope. Whether the aid given was insufficient, or whether it arose from other causes, this experiment in colonization proved anything but succes^. In 1823and 1825, two bodies of emigrants were located on lands in Canada, at the public ex- pense. The emigrants of 1825, consisted of 2024 per- sons ; and, independently of the value of the Lmds given them, the expense of settling cost £48,145 ; rather more than £20 for each person. In 1828, 568 Irish emigrants were settled at the rate of £22 for each person. We are well aware that esti- mates of tiie expense of transporting and locating settlers, have been made at a much lower rate : but we prefer the results of actual experience to hypo- thetical estimates. Assuming, then, that £20 a- head, is the expense of removing an emigrant to, and settling him in Canada — we ask how six mil- lions are annually to be raised, merefy for the pur- pose of keeping our popukOion (U Us present nwn- boTy and preventing the increasing severity of dii^ tress arising from the daily augmentation of num- bers. This has always been felt by the advo- cates of emigration, as the great difficulty : for it has been clearly seen, that tiie attempt to raise an additional tax for a purpose which has never been TORY REMEDIES FOR NATIONAL DISTRESS. popnlip— the transporting of our fellow-sobjects to wild and distant lands — ^wonld effectually put an end to tJie scheme. The only proposition, Ikerefer^ that is at all practicable or worthy of eoMidenti(m, is that of which Mr. K G. Wak^eld is tile aathoTy and which has heeaa. in operation in •one of our Australian colonies for a few years. JBtat as this new plan of colonization has been ear- ned into effect in the most complete manner, in Kew Zealand, we shall explain it by showing how it operates there. It may be pwmised, that formerly our Govem- ; gare grants of waste lands in our colonies as much as five hundred thousand acres 8ometime8 granted to a single individual. lUs was not only a fertile source of jobbing, but^ «i the fiiTOured holders of these extensiye grants wgn noTer able to cultivate any considerable por- tmi f tke first veswl, realized £100,000 by the sale of the allotments at Port Nicholson, — £75,000 of which were set aside for conveying labour to the colony, so that each emigrant appears to have cost £21 for mere conveyance ; and while the popula- tion of the United Kingdom increased 600,000, the Company removed only 3469. But to show that Mr. Wakefield's plan would give little relief to this country, even if carried to the greatest extent, we have only to advert to the circumstance, that to carry it through efiFectively, only a particular class must be selected — ^that is, the flower of our population ; for the emigration fund must be expend- ed in carrying out equal proportions of both sexes, between certain ages, say 18 and 35. Mr. Wake- field remarks : — " lliere a/re great ol^ections to any but young people; I will not say the narrow class to which I have adverted. Children suffer immensefy in being removed : they suiFer on board ship, they suffer from confinement ; and when they arrive in the Colony, they are either n^lected, or are a great encumbrance. Old people suffer much more firom being removed from the scenes to which they are attached, and they are also less able to bear the fatigues which necessarily attend upon a long voyage." However beneficial therefore, Mr. Wakefield's system may be to the colonies which adopt ii-y we cannot help thinking it cannot be ad- vantageous to the mother-country to remove the people in the prime of life, and to leave the old men and women to be supported, and the children to be brought up, at the expense of the mother- country, tfll they are fit to be i-emoved to the co- lonies. Such a system of emigration, instead of re- lieving the distress and lessening poor rates, would increase both ; because, for every able-bodied man removed, probably two old or feeble persons would be left to be supported. This, indeed, is the evil of all emigration ; it takes away the ac- tive, strong, and enterpiising, and leaves the lazy, weak, and indolent. Another evil of Mr. Wake- field's scheme is, that it tends to draw capital from Britain to be invested in the colonies, whereby the fund necessary for the employment of labour at home is dimiidshed. Only a small portion of the price of lands to be sold can be expected to be raised in the colonies themselves ; the great bulk of it must, as hitherto, be drawn from the mother- country. It is obvious that, if capital be sent abroad in as great a proportion as population, no benefit will be derived at home, from emigration, at least for many years to come. The chief cause of the welfare, and of the advance of the prosperity of any country, is the increase of capital at a greater rate than population. We really believe, therefore, that, in as far as relief from the present distress is to be regarded as the chief object for en- couraging emigration, it would be much better to raise the whole money by a tax, and expend it either in employing the hands who are out of work in some useful labour at home, till the present crisis is over, — or, if that plan be objectionable, on account of the additional produce and competition it would necessarily create — ^to employ it directly in' conveying away our population, than to draw it from our capitalists in the shape of price of lands at the other side of the globe, and then indirectly return TORY REMEDIES FOR NATIONAL DISTRESS. only one lialf of it to be expended for the same purpose. It is unnecessary, however, to consider the subject further; for could the quantity of land sold annually, be increased one htmdred fold, the price of it would not remove our yearly additional popu- lation. But perhaps the greatest objection toemigrationis, that it would not relieve the classes among whom the distress chiefly prevails. These are, the hand-loom weavers, the spinners, and others employed in the cotton, woollen, and silk trades, the workers of iron, printers, &c. While population in our pastoral and agricultural counties has hardly increased at all during the last thirty years, that of the manu- facturing districts has doubled. We have also a much greater number of professional men of all sorts— clergymen, lawyers, and medical men, as well as clerks, governesses, and other educated persons, than can find adequate employment. For all these there is, in reality, no opening in the colonies. In the East and West Indies, in all the settlements in New Holland, and even in New Zealand, the ware- houses are filled with British commodities and manufactures, to an amount utterly beyond the demand ; they can, consequently, be bought at a less price than they cost in Britain. Nobody ima- gines that manufacturers of cloth, of any sort, could be employed at all in our colonies. They must, whatever their age, whatever their strength or state of health be, relinquish the pursuits of their whole lives — sacrifice all the knowledge and skill which they have acquired — sink into the lowest class of labourers — and be contented to be ranked in the same order as the New Zealanders, or the late slaves in the West Indies. A person accustomed solely to in-door labour, in such work as weaving and spinning, is indeed of less value in New Zealand than the natives themselves. To send such people to our colonies is merely to send them to starve abroad, instead of starving at home. The colonies do not want such labour. Were it, indeed, proposed to export them in tens of thousands, — and in smaller numbers emigration is useless for the purpose in view,— the colonies would resort to every expedient to prevent the emigrants settling among them. Notwithstanding the almost boundless ex- tent of the United States, and the immense demand for labour, by the construction of theirextended and numerous canals, railways, (of each of which they have made, within a few years, nearly 4000 miles,) and other public and private works, there is a con- stant complaint in the newspapers of the Eastern States, of the insupportable influx of Irish immi- grants, who are almost daily thrown on their shores ; although these are the very class most fitted for tlie works continually in progress, and without whose aid these works could either not be com- pleted at all, or at an expense greatly larger than that which they have hitherto cost. The only classes fitted for an extensive emigra- tion are, farm-servants, shepherds, and mechanics of all sorts ; though the number of the two former to the latter ought probably to be in the propor- tion of at least 100 to 1. In country parishes in Scotland, of 1000 or 1600 inhabitants, it is unusual to find more than two or three wrights, smiths. shoemakers, tailors, &c., employing two or three journeymen and apprentices each. What is the value of weavers, and other in-door operatives, when employed in country labour,— every one must have observed, who has seen them, in perbds of distress^ at such work. It is no exaggeration to say that one labourer will do five times the work of such men at out-door labour ; and hence the classes who are most distressed are the very last our colonists would be inclined to assist to remove. And although means could be found to trans* port our working population in tens of thousands, what is likely to be the result ? From the great length and consequent expense of the voyage to Australia, British North America must be fixed on as their place of destination. We have seen that already half .of our emigrants either sail directly for, or find their way indirectly into, the United States. Is it likely that industrious spin- ners of cotton and silk, and skilful mechanics, would contentedly clear the forests in the back settlements of Canada or Nova Scotia, among frost and snow, when by a few days' journey they would receive constant employment and higher wages than ever they got at home, in the United States? It is wonderful, indeed, to mark how rapidly the views of our rulers change upon such subjects as that of which we are treating. Half a century ago, the proposal to export any part of our people, and the bare notion that we could have too many people, would have been scouted from the throne to the cottage. In earlier times, no one was allowed to leave the kingdom without the king's license ; for the king was held to have such a right to the services of his subjects for the defence of the realm, that he could not be deprived of it without his own consent. To this day, the king may prevent any one, by the writ ne exeat regno, from leaving the kingdom. So far, again, from compelling, or even permitting, artisans to settle abroad, they were expressly proliibited from emigrating, — and upon this law two convictions actually took place at the Old Bailey in 1809 : the one of a master who had offered an artificer ad- vantageous terms to emigrate to the United States, and the other of the artificer, who, having no work at home, had accepted of these terms. The judge, who tried the case, commended highly its policy, and dwelt at great length on the mischievous crime with which the prisoner stood charged, as deservedly severely punishable by law. All this was certainly absurd ; for the industry of an arti- ficer is his only inheritance, and to prevent him from disposing of it to the best advantage, is an unwarrantable act of power; but it is at least equally unwarrantable, by imposing restrictive laws on the importation of food for the supposed benefit of a particular class, to compel him to de- part from his native land, and to spend his days in a foreign, and perhaps an unhealthy, climate, among people whose feelings, manners, and habits, are totally at variance with those to which he has been accustomed. And now we come to the point : — The Emigration scheme has evidently been set on foot to meet the Corn-law agitation ; for the numbers, intelligence, and independence of the TORY REMEDIES FOR NATIONAL DISTRESS, norldog^dasBtt have become troublesome, and in- deed aUrming, to the aristocracy. It is not for tlie £stic« 80 iiniTerBally spread over the country that oar niiera have any sympathy, — ^they care not &r the staiyation and misery of the thousands, —to they fear that they will not die quietly. They are not ignorant that all new settlers are opoeed to great hardships and dangers. The first eoloaists in the United States almost all perished, or dOO settlers taken out by Mr. Peel to Swan Rifer, in 1896, a number perished, and all were dispersed in leas than six months. After suffering the greatest distress, the survivors returned to Swin River, and would have put Mr.' Peel to detth, had he not run away and secreted himself tfll they were carried off to Van Dieman's Land, fiat what sonifies thirty or forty thousand weavers dying at the Antipodes ! In the best and most favourable view, the whole ywttionis, TFTkeikertke food shall hetranaported to the pnpli, or the people to the food. Nothing is so expen- ift to remove as man ; and therefore it b not only the most eiq)edient, but the cheapest mode of allevi- tting the existing distress, to bring the food to the peo^. If money must be raised, let it be spent, -HuC in exporting our population as lumber, but in Ibding them work here : by thb means, the BMther country, instead of distant colonies, will be doidicd. Their allegiance may be of very tempo- nij duration, and we never wUl derive any repay- iMBt from advances to them in the way of reve- ne ; for by a statute passed shortly after the Ame- rican war of independence, all our colonies were freed from ocmtribnting to the revenue of the mother cmntiy. Of the value of colonies, in any shape, redoubt. Our trade with the United States of America is now ten times greater than before their ^dependence. The more colonies we have, the IRater the risk of quarrels and wars, the larger nait be our navy, and the larger our army, to de- fcnd them ; not one fiirthing of the expense of which, ^ H remembered, is ever defrayed by our colonies, bitmnat be paid by the over-taxed population of Britain. If the landowners are apprehensive that the vnemployed operatives wiU increase the poor- i>tei, let them reflect, that property has duties as ^ as rights, that it is merely the creation of po- ■^ law, and that the ground on which that law >sti» 18 the promoUon of the public good, and the increase of human happiness. Hence it may be modified or altogether changed by the same autho- rity by which it was established, if the objects it has in view can be otherwise more completely attained. We utterly deny that there is any surplus popu- lation in thb kingdom. Even with the defective agriculture of nearly the whole of England and Ireland, and of a great part of Scotland, we, for se- veral years recently, grew a sufficient quantity of food to support our entire population ; very little foreign grain having been entered for home con- sumption for four or five years together. The prices of food were then low — approaching the continental rates. There was no want of work, and surplus population and emigration schemes were equally imheard-of. Our working-classes were then regarded as a blessing — ^not as a curse, as they now are. Between 1SQ5 and 1838, all years of low prices, nearly 1000 new factories for the manufacture of cotton, wool, flax, and silk, were opened in Britain, and about 70,000 addi- tional hands were engaged. What is to prevent such times returning, and full employment being afforded to every one who is disposed to work? Nothing but the factitious high price of food main~ tained for the benefit of the landowners. But, admitting for a moment that the population of thb country b excessive, the question arises, Who ought to be dismissed ? The answer is obvi- ous. Not surely the industrious and productive, but the idle and spendthrift class. God gave the land equally to the whole human race, and all have the same natural right to its possession. Ifthereisto be a transportation of part of the population, let the fox-hunters and sportsmen go first, as they are a nuisance here, and will be useful for keeping down vermin in the colonies ; then let the other useless part of the aristocracy follow, especially those who at present are not content to reside and spend their revenues within Britain, but who draw their rents from a highly-taxed and starving population, to spend them on the continent, and thus escape their fikir contribution for the protection of the property they leave behind them. Finally, let not the people be deceived and be transported, *^ to please their lairds ;" but, on the contrary, let them insbt for Free Trade, beginning first with the repeal of the Com Laws. THE SONGS OP THE MONTHS. NO. I. — THE SONO OF JANUARY, Coem hMricaane toe mee, loteby toe ye, Chaimte y longee of moine pleasannte fiunyle : Moan bee joore fennes whilganuihe oure gle, Mirthlene ment benizon fyttaallie. Johannet: Prior of Broomwkkom.' R* it gvne-the Year I— I am f^ ! am f^ I nrtvtl igain in my ni^esty. ^thebMir of hb birth I hastened forth '^ ay crystal haUs in the gelid north, ^ tke ton looked pale at each frozen gem] * ny ewn imperial diadem : — "« be bath email power with me.-^ And I pranked it rare, for I chiUed the skief, And the crowded hearths of the human stye?. And blistered with kibes both the Scholar and Sage^ And stopped the thin blood in the veins of A^e. And I pinched the Queen in her chair of state. And perished a miser by empty grate, So hungry for riches was he I € THE SONGS OF THE MONTH. And I whipi through their ng» to the couch of the poor, While they dreamed they were spamed from their own wretched door. And I silenced the voice of the choristers — all, The ingle>side cricket, and the dog in the hall ; For none shall compete with the glee Of the donhle-faced Wizard who deigns to appear^ And swaddle the limbs of the infant year. 2. He is gone — the Year ! He is dead ! is dead 1 To the tomb of past ages gathered, — I will pile him a cairn of drifted snow, And chain np the water-fiUrs headlong flow. While the North flings a thousand rockets up, And the wassailers drain the deep cordial cap And replenish it merrily. Then reyel again : I will bite the toes Of the pulpited priest ; and tweak his nose. I will blister and gash his hearers' lips, And bury sharp pangs in the labourer's hips. The brooks I will charm, and harden the field, Till the plough-share bright may not burrow concealed. Though so yaliant a knight is he. I will bum your Yule logs, and with light arabesque All your windows will fbirnish ; and figures grotesque I will hang from your eayes : and your boi^ shall be burdened With all that is choicest, then I shall be guerdoned. For, who half so jolly can be, As the double-fkced Wizard who deigns to appear. And swaddle the limbs of the in&nt year f J.A.O. SPECIMENS OP MODERN ROMANCE. KO. t.*-— THE lKTl£lf8E; OB, MTTBBEROTTS SBNTDCElfTiLL.* lA BELLA BEATRICE: A TALE OP VENICE. Italy, beautiful Italy, thou land of love And loye^ impassioned trance ; Thy sunny skies so golden bright abOTf Thy dark-eyed danghten* glance : CHAPTER I. It was within half an honr of midnight, and the Piazza di San Marco was nearly deserted by the gay throng of revellers who had but lately made its arches ring with the jocund strains of a hundred hurdygurdies. The moon, cloudless and unspotted as a maiden's virgin thoughts, was shining full into the square. Near the hrazen statue of the Centaur Nessus, Chizellini's Capo d'Opere, two figures might have been seen, en- gaged in close conversation, and occasionally emerging from behind the shadow of the statue, as if to look for some one, whose approach they were expecting. *^ Cente maledizioni I " exclaimed one of the figures, "/Sb»' dannatOy if I wait any longer. My Giulietta is dying for me, and I promised to be with her by twelve." " Tacey Gasparo ; you're always in some infernal amour or another. Surely you might attend to business, and leave the girls alone for one night ? The signor is past his time, no doubt, but we'll charge it in the bill, you know," said the other figure, sharpening, as he spoke, the edge of his stiletto upon the pavement. **Carpo di Caio Mario, charge it in the bill! And what answer will that be to my Giulietta? Do you know the risk I run? 'Cod, she would think as little of dropping me a settler of Aqua Tofana in my next cup, as she would of eating garlic in her soup ! I'll cut a throat, Poniardo, upon any reasonable consideration, but, hang me, if I peril my soul for any man I " * For a specimen (ajid a fkmous one, we venture to think) of the modem dattic school of romance, we ^ r to Endymion, page 50, of this Number. Meet emblems are they of the fieiy hate, That with love^ warmeet paarion still doth mate In thee, thou glorious land, Where jealousy can buy the dark assassin^s brand ! Jfo/y. By Jolm Jone$, ^^ Ecoo lo qvdl Here comes the Signor di Aquavita at last," replied Poniardo, pointing to a figure shrouded in an ample cloak, that was now seen striding towards them across the Piazaa. ^Bwma notte, tiffnor!" said Grasparo and Po« niardo at once, as the figure came up to where they stood. " We wait the signor s orders." " You know young Giovanni Beltesta?" Gasparo and Poniardo assented. ''He crosses the Pont^ dei Sospiri to-morrow night, at twelve. Your stilettoes have a sure aim^ I have been told. You know my meaning. This purse contains a hundred scudi. Dispose of Bel- testa, and you shall have another of twice the amoimt." At this moment^ the organ of the adjacent church of San Marco was hesjxl, blending with the voices of the choristers, as they chanted the vesper hymn to the Virgin. Awed by the sacredness of the appeal, to which the moonlight and the silence gave redoubled power, the Signor di Aquavita, Gasparo, and Poniardo dropped on their knees, where they remained, in devout contemplation, till the service ended* They then rose, and left the place. CHAPTER II. It is a stately room in one of the noblest palaces of Venice. Rich damask from "far Cathay" adorns the walls ; and here and there some noble work of the divine Tiziano, then in the zenith of his fame, shows that the proprietor of the pal&zzo is as liberally endowed wiUi taste as with the wealth which it ennobles. A room it is, where elegance conspires with luxury to build a fairy- home for beauty to surround with golden visions, and weave her rare enchantments in. LA BELLA BEATMOE : A TALE OF VENICE. And wbo is she, the fair Daessa of that princely diamber? 'Tis the rose of Venice, — ^the wor- ihi|^ of her nohle comftm,— the chanted of htrimmortal poets^ — ^La Bella Beatrice. She was, indeed, a theme to gire a painter's pencil inspira- tioa,— there, as she lay redined upon a conch, her mtdiless fona robed in the costly silks of distant l^aognisUn, and her fair brow softened with an air (xP sadness, as she perased the sonetH of the dhrine Petrarca, which she held lightly in her deli- ate fingers. Is she reading, or are her thoughts mndeiing with him to whom she hath o£Fered up the incense of her young and passionate heart? Who may tell? She has dropped the book, and half raised her- •df upon the conch, to listen ; for beneath the wbdow, which is open, a yoice is singing to the notes of the mandolin. Soft moonligbt is silently streaming Over the muimnring sea, Hien wftke, lore, O wake, from thy dreaming^ Td ifaine fir an hour, loye, on me. On me, lore, on me ; Pot loTe, withont thee, Biee, my beloved, my own Beatrice, lo no Bon', no son' feHee ! *T^ he— my Gioyanni — ^my beautiful, my own (Boranni !" die exclaimed, as, starting from her coieh, she rushed tathe window, and, leaning over it,kisRd her hand to a figure that stood in a gon- dola in the lagune which washed the walls of the pilazzo. Gioyanni continued his song : Hiuhed are the wakeftil in slumber. And tiiere are none, love, to see; fkt Stan diine in rad^t number. But they tell not of thee, loTe> and me ; Of thee, loTe, and me ; Then place me with thee — Tbee, my belorld, my own Beatrioe, Ed io son, io son felice I •My poetrloTBT,— my peerless Gioyanni, — ^hy Beabiee has no joy, no h^piness but with thee. Qaete thee, sweetest," she exclaimed, as she dropped ^Bm the window a silken ladder, that indispens- t^ie i^urtenance of a Venetian balcony, ^^ haste tiwe, my dearest Giovanni." In another moment the graoeftil Gioyanni had ^Hmdfid up the ladder, vaulted over the balcony, od was standing in the room. "Dearest Beatrice ! " he exclaimed, as he folded Wr to his breast. "(Ml, my own beautiful Gioyanni," she mur- iWKd,a8 die yielded to his repeated kisses, "what ifij Mce more to hold you in my arms — Eii hello -«<2wmo/ Dtpiaeermibaigailcor!" *^Dmpiu> son, tu non m'in^anni 9 dtmqt^io son f^r passionately replied the youth ; and again lie teined her to his bosom, again he pressed her •But you mnst go, my own CHoyanni. My JttJww Icid win be here anon. At every sound I ^n thought 'twas he aspending the staircase. %} dearat, you must go. He was to be home ^twelfe, and *tis now within a few minutes of whour." dUmenotcmdl Tbw kiiowwt, loie, ttot did it lie with myself, I should never bid thee adieu. But should he find thee here, 'twere death to both of us 1" " Addio, then, hel idol mio /*' ** You will not forget me, Giovanni?** said the beauty, as she hung upon his shoulder, and gazed at him with eyes moist with the sadness dF too eager love. " Forget thee I I have no thought that is not given to thee, — no hope, but that of once more folding thee to my arms. Addio I — And till I see thee again, 11 oor mi dice, Io no son', no son' feUoe !^ A violent knocking was heard at the outer gate. Giovanni dropped into the gondola, and rowed off. Beatrice resumed her seat upon the couch, and the Sonetti of Petrarca. OHAPTES. in. "Stand back into the shadow of that buttress,'' said Poniardo to his friend. *^ Here is the young springaldathist!'' They were upon the Pont^ dei Sospiri, and midnight was pealing frrom the lofty Campanile of San Marco. Giovanni Beltesta advanced with the unsuspecting gaiety of youth, singing, as he went, O Beatrice, il cor mi dice Chi' io no son', no son' folioe I He stumbled, and fell forward with a groan« The stUettoes of the two ruffians had met within his gentle heart t ^ Let us chuck him into the lagune !" said Po« niardo, lifting the bloody body by the shoulders. ^Bravely said, mio hon eamarado/^ responded Gasparo, as he seized the legs. A splash was heard, and the smooth surfoce ^ the l^^une was broken for a moment. It passed away, and the moon was once more shioing upon the water s unbroken mirror. That night the Signer Aquavita swallowed poison. 'Twas said that the fingers of La Bella Beatrice had mingled it with his evening cup ; but on this a veil of tie deepest mystery rests. In a lonely cell of San Lazaro is a lovely female. See her raven tresses streaming over a throat and neck that might shame the marble of Antiparos I Her laughing eyes are bright with the lustre of a more than natural fire. 'Tis La Bella Beatbice. She speaks but of one — ^her beautiful Giovanni ; and in the dead of night she is heard singing, in tones of the most plaintive sadness, the words that, with a foreboding spirit, had been spoken by her lover at parting, il poT mi dice, Io no son', no son' fBlice ! A romance so pure in its morals, so original in its incidents, so remarkable for the dramatic indi- viduality of its characters, forms * * [Here the manuscript and moral abruptly break off. Through the same channel we expect the conclu- sion of Bulwer's sentimental and preternatural tale of Zicci; now in a state of suspended animation for several years ; provided the gifted author does not finish it right speedily l|imself.] HOWITT'S VISITS TO REMARKABLE PLACES.* Right glad are we to meet Mr. Howitt once more with his foot upon the green sward of England, ram- bling at his own good Uking, by the bright, rock- bedded streams of the North ; threading its secluded valleys, wandering in its ancient woods ; now mus- ing under the towers of Branoepeth, Raby, or Lum- ley ; and anon exploring the ruins of many an edifice of mighty name, the chiefless strongholds of the Nevilles, the Delavals, or the Hiltons, — ^fjELmilies of far-descent, of whose fame and prowess small trace will shortly remain, save such traditions as are preserved in ballads and in storied pages like those of Mr. Howitt and hb contemporaries. But who are his contemporaries? The delightful walk in literature which he occupies is at present all his own. To the eye of philosophy, or Uie keener orb of practical utility, his may not seem the highest sphere of lettered wisdom, or creative art ; but it is undeniably that in which a successful writer largely promotes " the greatest enjoyment of the greatest number " of readers. This is surely no small achievement. To those familiar with the previous volume of this work, it may be unnecessary to say that this one is framed upon exactly the same plan' ; one of entire freedom, embracing in its wide range every beautiful object and pleasure-raising emo- tion ; whatever the painter has sketched, the poet sung, or the local antiquary narrated, of fact, legend, and tradition. Anecdotes illustrative of manners, snatches of family history, and all kinds of agreeable gossip give zest to the sketches ; nay, tales of somewhat superannuated scandal, either slightly known, or long since forgotten, are revived, and wUl, for many readers, possess novelty as well as piquancy. Mr. Howitt's rambles at this time have been principally in the counties of Durham and North- umberland, though he proceeded the length of Berwick, and made a raid intoLiddesdale. His field is thus " The North Countrie," — the storied Border land of daring adventure, battle, and ballad. Though he examined every scene for himself, and in mea- suring the ground, generally made his own legs his compasses, he has enriched, and greatly enhanced the value of his work, by a diligent perusal of county histories, memoirs, and chronicles; the works of that prince of local antiquaries and pic- turesque tourists, Pennant; of Surtees, Hutchin- son, Grose, and a host of men of smaller note, who are, however, prophets in their own country. With all this, the entire body of northern legendary bal- lad poetry was at his finger's end. So many fine original elements, together with no mean skill in the art of combining and arranging them, could not fail to produce an exceedingly agreeable book. But not resting on literary merit alone, the re- sources of art also have been called in to accom- * Visits to Remarkable Places, Old Halls, Battle Fields, and Scenes illustratiye of Striking Passages in Poetry and History, &c. &c. By William Howitt, royal 8to^ cloth, pp. 610 : Longman & Co. plish the charms of the work. It is beautifully illustrated with numerous vignettes and tail-pieces, either actual representations of the finest scenes and places described, orpoeticaUy in harmony with their character. So that the Visits to Remarkable Places forms one of the most elegantly embellished books of the present season. To heighten the charm of the designs, they are all from the pencils of eminent northern artists ; men of talents, full of enthusiasm for the natural beauty and ancient fame of their native region. The Tourist, or Rambler, whose steps seem to have been almost as eccentric as his fancies — ^^^ wan- dering at his own sweet will," starts with a visit to the city of Durham, with which locality he is enraptured, and fairly enchants the reader. The annals of the different towns which he visited fall within Mr. Howitt's scheme; and the past and present history of this city, and of Newcastle and Berwick-upon-Tweed, are accordingly given, with amplitude sufficient to satisfy, we should imagine, even the citizens of those places; and to make the work of peculiar interest to them, from its saying so much about themselves. In describing these towns, Mr. Howitt has done full justice to their respective and relative claims. The most zealous for the beauty of the venerable and picturesque city of St. Cuthbert, among the inhabitants of Durham, must be not merely satisfied, but grateful, and proud of the lengthened descriptive eulogy of which this is a specimen : — There is this charaoteristio of most of onr cathedral towns, that they have changed less in their outward aspect than others ; and you would imagine that Durham had not changed at all Whichever way you approach Durham, yon are first struck with the great central tower of the cathedral peeping over the hills that envelop the city. It looks colossal, massy, and silent. Anon you lose sight of it ; but again you mark it, solemnly breasting the green heights, like some Titan watcher, and it well prepares the mind for the view of the whole great pile, which presently opens upon you. Every traveller must be sensibly impressed with the bold beauty of Durham in the first Tiew. As he emerges from some defile in those hills which, further off, hid from him all but that one great tower, he sees before him a wide, open valley, in the centre of which a fine mount stands crowned with the ancient clustered houses of Durham ; the turrets and battlements of its old and now restored castle rising above them ; and again, above all, soaring high into tbo air, the noble towers and pinnacles of its Norman minster. Around recede in manifold forms, the higher hills, as if intended by nature to give at once beauty and retirement to Ais splendid seat of ancient religion. From various points of these hills, the city looks qnite magnificent. The old town, with its red rooft, runs along the ridges of the lower hills, and these higher ones are thrown into knolls and deUs, with thefar green crofts and wooded clumps and lines of trees. The whole sur- rounding scenery, in fibct, is beautiftil. My visit there was in the middle of May. The grass had a delicious freshness to the eye ; the foliage of the trees was of spring's most delicate green ; and the bluebells and primroses, which the hot weatiier in April had entirely, a month before, withered up in the south, were there in abundance in all their denvj and friigrant beauty. Through all the finer seasons of the year, however, the environs of Durham are delightfti). HOWITTS VISITS TO REMARKABLE PLACES. 9 TioB w? consider a favourable specimen of Mr. Howttt's most studied manner, though we are not tme t2iat this manner is hi^ best. Durham possesses nn sdrantages orer many of the English towns, in tbe extent, beauty, and accessibility of its pub- lic wilks: — l^ifike the condition of many a beautiful neighbour- tftd in mMBj a part of Englaud, where you may peep mU paradisey bat may not enter ; here ahnost whereyer tbe aJliuements of tbe scene draw you, yoa may follow. Fsotpaths in all imaginable directions strike across these ifffeiy crofU. Yon may climb hills, descend into woody drib, follow tbe course of a little stream, as its bright wUen and i&owery banks attract you, and never find jeinelves out of Uie way. In all directions, as lines ra