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imagining the purposes to which my wretch-away maltreating the physician's character. ed frame might be applied when it should-Shall I be laughed at, if I say that this rihave come into the possession of its purcha-diculous nonsense had, in my present state ser. The idea of complete dismembermeut of mind, a fearful effect upon me? To those -of becoming one of the wonders of an an- who consider the situation in which I was atomist's collection, seemed dreadful and placed, and reflect upon the intimate conunnatural. The dreams of the old Egyp-nexion of bodily and mental weakness and tians, on the connexion of the soul with the indisposition, it will not appear very strange body, recurred to me, and I shuddered to that the stories of these old gossips producthink of the abominations to which I should ed in ine a double terror and uneasiness. I be exposed after death. I envied the ban-roamed from spot to spot, but the horrors daged mummies, and saw a paradise in a which I had conjured up accompanied me catacomb, compared to the disgusting exhibition of a virtuoso's closet.

It was a holiday with the Catholics, and passing down a narrow street, I encountered a procession of priests. Every one sank on their knees, and when they rose, the crowd was so great, that I was forced into a small recess, where two or three old people were holding a conference. There was nothing, however in this, to interest me, had I not heard the name of Galigni pronounced, and it arrested my attention instantly.

"Ay, ay," said one; "I shall not be persuaded that all these doings can be for a good purpose; all these bodies and poor carcases are not cut up for nothing."

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"Very true, neighbour," answered another; and, besides, why does he practise all this horrible work at midnight, when it is fitter for good Christians to be sleeping in their beds, than sitting up carving their fellow creatures to pieces by candle-light?"

still.

As I passed by the post-office, I inquired, I know not by what impulse, if there were any despatches for me. To my surprise, a small parcel was placed in my hand. I hurried with it to the hovel where 1 lodged, and opening it, I found my long-expected letters and remittances.

next was on the necessity of first seeing GaMy first thought was to leave Milan; my ligni, and of being released from my oath. I hastened to his abode,-he was from home, and would not return to Milan for a week. I was filled with despair at this intelligence; to occupy myself, I set about providing more eligible lodgings, and making prepar ations for my departure. The week passed away, but my fears, my anxieties, continued the same. fuse to annul his bargain, must I remain a Suppose Galigni should revictim in Milan. or perjure myself by violating my oath? Then if, as I thought, in the disturbed state of my mind, it was not "I wish," said the old man who had spo- impossible he should be the monster-the ken first, "I wish that may be all; Francis-practiser of unhallowed and mysterious rites, co, that used to live with him, has given ne might he not endeavour to ensnare the soul a hint." as well as the body? Had he indeed the Here he paused, whilst his audience pres-power?-was he an adept in the occult sed closer around him, to hear the secret science? which his silence and oracular manner ap- The reader may smile or frown; the fact peared to promise. was, my anxiety had induced a nervous fe"Francisco did say," continued the nar-ver, which affected my mental faculties, and rator; "that once, when his master had ate nothing for near two days, not so much as a morsel of bread, he locked himself up at night in that square room that he has at the top of the house."

"To be sure he has," interrupted an auditor, "and pretty doings have been there." "No doubt," answered the story-teller. "Well, as I was saying, there he locked himself up, and there Francisco looked through the key-hole, and saw him cutting pieces from a corpse, and he declares that he heard a noise like a kettle simmering; and you may guess," he continued, with an oracular shake of the head, "you may guess the rest."

“Ay, I warrant," answered one of the group, "he has had many a fine meal there, it's a shame such things should be suffered."

To this all the rest assented, and went

rendered me the slave of feelings and inquietudes, which, at other times, I should have ridiculed and despised. The week had elapsed, the Doctor was returned, but by some chance or other, I could never meet with him; and not doubting but this was premeditated on his part, I became confirmed in the belief that he was unwilling to part with his victim. At length the fever which affected me assumed a more violent form, and for some time I was insensible. Still hideous chimeras danced before me, and I still suffered from the illusions which had haunted me.

The very first object which met my sight sorcerer, or whatever he was, stood by my on recovering, was Galigni himself. The bed-side. I sprang towards him. I solicited him to release me from my engagement, and offered any compensation he should himself name. He gazed on me with some

surprise, not remembering in me the indi- who jumped from branch to branch, pursuvidual whose necessities had shortly before ed by the whole commonwealth of monkeys, reduced him to enter into that abhorred until they were out of sight. Thus the Incontract, and he seemed inclined to attri-dian ridded us of those pests. We daily bute my violence to the effects of fear. saw different tribes, perhaps three tribes of However, the circumstance was speedily re- different colours in one day; some were called to his mind, and he agreed to destroy very mischievous, throwing pistachios, limes the agreement without hesitation; I was as- and other fruits, at us. tonished at this, for, as I hau before said, I had expected to encounter the greatest difficulties in prevailing on him to abandon our agreement. I gazed upon him with incre-keys, as usual, were attentive spectators, dulity, and was not immediately convinced of the reality of my happiness.

The Doctor had been called in by the family in whose house I resided, and this simple casualty had relieved me from all my pain. I speedily recovered the enjoyment of my powers, both bodily and mental, and before I left Milan was sufficiently restored to wonder at the weakness which had so nearly proved fatal to me.

MONKEYS.

An extract from the Journal of an Irish officer in
Colombia.

Our women rode on donkeys, one of which getting tired, and as beating would not make him go, he was abandoned: the mon

and seeing the donkey left, they descended to have a ride: three or four dozen mounted together, on his ears, neck, and every other part, and even two clung to his tail, while the others whipped and scratched him. The donkey, frightened by his novel treatment, acquired new speed, and began cantering, while his pursuers as nimbly plied him, until he came up to our rear braying. The monkeys now abandoned him, so dreadfully scratched and torn, that he never attempted to stop afterwards.

EXTRAORDINARY INVENTION.-An ingenious mechanist has just completed, and, as soon as he has obtained a patent, will submit for hire a great variety of Automaton Auctioneers, well adapted for selling pro

On our way to Baranca we encamped for the night at the foot of a large mountain. but sleep was out of the question, for the trees were visited by groupes of green mon-perty of every description, from a sixpenny keys, who kept up such horrid chattering during the night, as prevented our enjoying a single moment's rest until day, when we were beset by immense flocks of parrots, paroquets, and macaws, more noisy than our nocturnal visitors. I had an opportunity of witnessing the ingenuity of the Indian guides, one of whom proposed to rid us of the monkeys, provided he got a handsome pen-knife as a reward. He went outside the trees with a bottle, in which he put some pease; putting down his fingers now and then, he took out some, which he eat with seeming satisfaction; leaving a few strewed around, he retired; and the monkeys, who are very minute in their observance of man's actions, descended very cautiously, and having found some of the pease, a quarrel ensued; but one, more crafty than the rest, peeped into the bottle, and determining to secure a good handfull, thrust down his hand, and filling it, he set up a titter, as he found he could not withdraw his hand. The Indian now ran and secured him, and all the tribe fled from branch to branch in evident agitation. Part of an old red jacket being procured, all hands went to work to make him a new suit of clothes, and, after being dressed, he was let loose in the branches among his astonished companions, who collected round him, and, gazing on him with curiosity for about five minutes, a busy scene ensued; the other monkeys plucking branches, and flogging the soldier monkey,

trinket to the largest freehold property.These machines will perform every relative duty of the most experienced Auctioneer, with signicant and appropriate actions, without the wonted noise and nonsense. When set in motion they will call the atten. tion of the company by a triple rap of the hammer with one hand, whilst the other will point out the conditions of sale. As soon as the lot is put up, the hammer will gracefully keep flourishing, whilst the head of the Automaton will gracefully nod at every bidding. In the front of the pulpit will be seen the index to the machinery, so that the bidders will know the exact moment the hammer must fall, which will be far more certain than sales by the candle. Though the machines may be set to dwell an hour or more on a lot, yet they may be made to sell with such rapidity that the hammer will finally fall sixty times an hour: this will be particularly useful for selling Pawnbroker's pledges, that must, by Act of Parliament, pass under the hammer. They have also affixed to the pulpit pedals to actuate puffers.-The Inventor has also ready to let on hire a great variety of Cast-Iron Parsons and Clerks, with and without wigs, that will preach and sing by steam.—Q. Gaz.

To have a respect for ourselves, guides our morals, and to have a deference for others, governs our manners.

POETRY.

For the New-York Literary Gazette.

LINES

On the Death of a young Lady.

"Alas! the good die first:
While those whose hearts are dry as summer dust,
Burn to the socket."

THE flower that springs with the morning's beam,
The evening gale may blight:

It may blossom and bloom, yet fade like a dream,
Ere the coming morning's light

Like a flower thou sprung'st, but the withering blast
Hath swept o'er thy fragile form-
Thy stem lies crush'd, and thy soul hath pass'd
From life's" pitiless, pelting" storm.

Oh! a flower may bloom. or a flower may fade,
What recks it when it perish'd?

But far other thoughts are shed o'er the dead
Of whom brighter hopes were chérish'd,

Ay, hopes lie low with thy lifeless clay,
Are faded and fled for ever:-

Like our earliest dreams they have pass'd away,
To return again never-never.

Poor girl! full soon has life's morning bloom
With thee set in pain and sorrow
And a reft mother's brow by thy early doom
Is grav'd with an added furrow.

The grave has closed o'er many a one,
Like thee from this world early parted,

But never has it closed upon

A more tender or truer hearted.

Farewell, farewell! the Eternal's dc om
Is pass'd'gainst all breathing clay,

And the hearts that weep in vain o'er thy tomb,
May be cold as thine own ere day.

Let it come when it list-at my latest hour
This fervent wish be mine :"

May my mind be as calm-my heart as pure-
And my sins be like unto thine.

TO OCTAVIA.

C.

The Eighth of the Nine Daughters of J. L****, Esq.

"Ah! mayst thou ever be what now thou art,
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring,
As fair in form as warm, yet pure in heart-
Love's image upon earth without his wing,
And guileless beyond Hope's imagining!"-Byron.

Full many a gloomy month hath past,

On flagging wing, regardless by,—
Unmarked by aught save grief-since last
I gazed upon thy bright blue eye,
And bade my Lyre pour forth for thee
Its strains of wildest minstrelsy!
For all my joys are withered now,—

The hopes 1 most relied on thwarted,-
And sorrow hath o'erspread my brow
With many a shade since last we parted :
Yet, 'mid that murkiness of lot,
Young Peri, thou art unforgot!
There are who love to trace the smile

That dimples upon childhood's cheek.
And hear from lips devoid of guile,

The dictates of the bosom break ;—
Ah! who of such could look on thee
Without a wish to rival me!
None-his must be a stubborn heart,

And strange to every softer feeling,
Who from thy glance could bear to part
Cold, and unmoved—without revealing
Some portion of the fond regret
Which dimmed my eye when last we met!

Sweet bud of Beauty !-Mid the thrill-
The anguished thrill of hope delayed,-
Peril and pain-and every ill

That can the breast of man invade,-
No tender thought of thine and thee
Hath faded from my memory;
But I have dwelt on each dear form

Till woe, awhile, gave place to gladness,
And that remembrance seemed to charm
Almost to peace my bosom's sadness ;-
And now again I breathe a lay,
To hail thee on thy natal day!

O! might the fondest prayers prevail
For blessings on thy future years!
Or innocence, like thine, avail

To save thee from affliction's tears!
Each moment of thy life should bring
Some new delight upon its wing;
And the wild sparkle of thine eye-

Thy guilelessness of soul revealing-
Beam ever thus, as beauteously,

Undimmed-save by those gems of feeling-
Those soft, luxurious drops which flow,
In pity, for another's woe.

But vain the thought!-It may not be !-
Could prayers avert misfortune's blight,
Or hearts from sinful passion free

Here hope for unalloyed delight,
Then, those who guard thine opening bloom
Had never known one hour of gloom.
No-if the chastening stroke of Fate

On guilty heads alone descended,
Sure they would ne'er have felt its weight,
In whose pure bosoms, sweetly blended,
Life's dearest social virtues move,

In one bright endless chain of love!

Then since upon this earth, joy's beams
Are fading-frail, and few in number,
And melt-like the light-woven dreams

Sweet one! I'll wish thee strength to bear
That steal upon the mourner's slumber,-
The ills that Heaven may bid thee share ;
And when thine infancy hath fled [thee,
And Time with woman's zone hath bound
If, in the path thou'rt doomed to tread,

The thorns of sorrow lurk, and wound thee,
Be thine that exquisite relief
Which blossoms mid the springs of grief!

And like the many-tinted Bow,

Which smiles the showery clouds away,
May Hope-Grief's Iris here below-
Attend, and soothe thee on thy way,
Till full of years-thy cares at rest-
Thou seek'st the mansions of the blest!
Young Sister of a mortal Nine,

Farewell-Perchance a long farewell!
Though woes unnumbered yet be mine,
Woes, Hope may vainly strive to quell,-
I'll half unteach my soul to pine,

So there be bliss for thee and thine!

A. A. WATTS.

THE CHRISTIAN VIRGIN'S ADDRESS TO HER
APOSTATE LOVER.

O! lost to faith, to peace, to Heaven!
Canst thou a recreant be
To Him whose life for thine was given,
Whose cross endured for thee?

Canst thou for earthly joys resign

A love immortal, pure, divine?
Yet link thy plighted truth to mine,

And cleave unchanged to me?

Thou canst not-and 'tis breathed in vain-
The sophistry of love ;-
Though not in pride or cold disdain

Thy falsehood I reprove ;-
Inly my heart may bleed-but yet
Mine is no weak-no vain regret ;
Thy wrongs to me I might forget-

But not to Him above.

Cease then-thy fond impassion'd vow,
In happier hours so dear;
(No virgin pride restrains me now)
I must not turn to hear;

For still my erring heart might prove
Too weak to spurn thy proffered love;

And tears, though feign'd and false, might

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How deep that sudden wrench may wound,
It recks not to avow;

Go thou to fortune and to fame;
I sink to sorrow-suffering-shame-
Yet think, when Glory gilds thy name,
I would not be as thou.

Thou canst not light or wavering deem
The bosom all thine own;
Thou know'st, in Joy's enlivening beam,
Or Fortune's adverse frown,
My pride, my bliss had been to share
Thy hopes; to soothe thine hours of care;
With thee the Martyr's cross to bear,

Or win the Martyr's crown.

"Tis o'er; but never from my heart
Shall Time thine image blot;
The dreams of other days depart ;-
Thou shalt not be forgot;

And never in the suppliant sigh
Poured forth to Him who sways the sky,
Shall mine own name be breathed on high,

And thine remembered not.

Farewell! and oh! may He whose love
Endures, though Man rebel,
In mercy yet thy guilt reprove;

Thy darkening clouds dispel :
Where'er thy wandering steps incline,
My fondest prayers-nor only mine ;-
The aid of Israel's God be thine;

And in His name-Farewell!

DALE.

THEY KNOW NOT MY HEART.
They know not my heart, who believe there can be
One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee;
Who think while I see thee in beauty's young hour,
As pure as the morning's first dew on the flow'r,
I could harin what I love- as the sun's wanton ray
But smiles on the dew-drop, to waste it away!

No-beaming with light as those young features are,
There's a light round thy heart which is lovelier far:
It is not that cheek-'tis the soul, dawning clear
Thro' its innocent blush, makes thy beauty so dear:
As the sky we look up to, though glorious and fair,
le look'd up to the more, because Heaven is there!

MOORE:

ΤΟ

Thou wert to me a morning dream
That vanishes with day-
Woven of an ethereal frame,
Alloy'd with mortal clay.

And now when thou all spirit art
In memory's treasury,
And I can bear with callous heart,
Griefless to speak of thée-

Thou seemest only to have been
A vision soft and bright,
That floated lovely o'er earth's scene
To glorify its night.

Yet from my retrospective gleam
Of bliss I'd take thee not;

Enough for me that eye's mild beam-
Thy passion unforgot-

Calling again long perish'd hours,
And bringing to me still,
Pleasures that were too briefly ours,
Regrets that almost kill.

For hadst thou lived, time cold had made
The love that now shall burn,
Chasten'd by years; or thou hadst paid
Indifference in return.

Now thou art dear as at the birth
Of our long parted love,
Unchanged, when all beside of earth
Hath cloy'd or ceased to move.

For I have well nigh run the round
Of frail humanity;

But have no treasure worthy found
To buy one dream of thee!

A TALE.

Translated fram the Greek of Ausonius.
In debt, deserted, and forlorn,
A melancholy elf,

Resolv'd upon a Monday morn,
To go aud hang himself.

He reach'd the tree; when, lo! he views
A pot of gold, conceal'd;

He snatch'd it up, threw down the noose,
And scamper'd from the field.

The owner came, found out the theft,
And having scratch'd his head,
Took up the rope the other left,
And hung himself instead!

Probably Providence has implanted peevishness and ill temper in old persons, in compassion to the friends or relations who are to survive; as it must naturally lessen the concern they might otherwise feel for their loss.

I prefer the Greek epigram to the Latin one. The first consists in a natural, but not obvions thought, expressed with strength and delicacy. The latter has too much point and conceit in it: It has not the true simplicity of ancient wit.

LINNEAN ANNALS.

Communication of Dr. SAMUEL L. MITCHILL, Honor ary Pres't of the Linnæan Society of N York.

On the new discovered Specimens of Mineralogy and Geology in the State of NewYork, by the digging of the Grand Canal. I FORWARD you a catalogue of the minerals in my museum, arrived from Lockport. A part was collected during my tour along the Western Canal from Albany to Buffalo, during the autumn of 1824, and the rest procured by exchanges and negotiations since. I consider my collection as ample and complete.

Among the benefits arising from that great public work, are the disclosures relative to Mineralogy and Geology. The excavation through the rocky ridge dividing the waters of the Genesee river from those which run

6. The various modifications of thesn crystals are peculiarly striking, and diversified in almost endless forms. The combination of their figures and hues are very agreeable to behold.

7. But their interest is exceedingly increased by the superb sulphate of strontian distributed through the whole formation. It assumes the shape of long, parallel, and flattish crystals, with a faint bluish tinge. This is frequently imbedded, like the others, in the diaphanous and brilliant gypsum.

8. Sulphate of strontian, apart and by itself, found in distinct masses, weighing thirty pounds or more. These pieces exceed those from Putin Bay and Lake Huron, and are in all probability the finest in the world. They are of singular purity and splendour.

9. Pieces of the before mentioned spars, dusted over as it were with pyrites, or the into the Niagara by the channel of the To- yellowish sulphuret of iron, and occasionnewanto, have disclosed the following inte-ally including the same within their sub

resting specimens.

stance.

10. Fragments of the like, containing the sulphuret of zinc, or yellowish blende. 11. Parcels of similar minerals, contain

1. The amorphous rock, which is a carbonate of lime, and capable of being converted by fire into a material for cement. 2. The lime stone of the strata, containing galena or the sulphuret of lead. ing encrinites, entrochites, echinites, and other organic remains; proving the former

dominion of the ocean thereabout.

12. Lumps of considerable magnitude, very ponderous and almost massive, pronounced to be the anhydrous sulphate of lime, of a supremely elegant quality.

Mr. Joseph Moulton, on my suggestion, obtained specimens of these minerals from the proprietor of the extensive collection, and carried them to Paris, for exhibition to

the S avans.

3. Carbonate of lime in the form of most elegant crystals, some of which exhibit the appearance of acute rhombs, that are of a fine whitish complexion, and completely cover the surfaces which support them; while others wear the aspect of dog's-tooth spar, being in the form of six-sided pyramids. These latter are of a hyaline or watery colour, and contrast beautifully with the pre-expense, to obtain any more of these interesting productions: but the numerous and ceding. Sometimes they are connected at choice assortment possessed by Dr. Johnson their bases, and produce dodecohedrons, or of Lockport, is sufficient to furnish many twelve-sided crystals of singular beauty. cabinets.

4. Fluate of lime, of bluish and hyaline hues; in fine cubic configurations.

Since the completion of the Canal, it will not be practicable, without great labour and

Dr. SAMUEL AKERLY read a paper on the colouring matter of the Hematoxylon Campechianum, or logwood of commerce; large quantities of which are employed in the arts of dyeing, principally for producing black colours.

5. Sulphate of lime, in the lamellated and tabular forms, and of exquisite transparency. Through this hallucidity which equals that of the finest crown-glass, the before mentioned rhombic and pyramidal crystals can He stated that he had ascertained by exbe perfectly seen, as the gypsum invests and contains them within its mass. They some-periment that Campeachy logwood containtimes project beyond their incrustation or ed 25 per cent., or one-fourth its weight of investiture, and break through its sides; colouring matter. That cold water would and then again, they stud it over by external extract a considerable portion of the colouradherence as to a base. ing matter, and that at a temperature of 60o

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