sors.

STANZAS.

"Nemo cute obitum potesi dici beatus." WOULD I were in my grave,

Beneath the church-yard tree; The dark-green grass would o'er me wave, And sound my slumbers be ;Unbroken by the fearful dreams

- That haunt my living sleep, And leave me when the morning beams, To think-and feel-aud weep,

Away with mortal life!

I call up days gone by-
Sickness and sorrow, pain and strife,
Burst on my startled eye.
Dim shadows of departed joys,
So fleeting and so fair-
Why heed ye busy Memory's voice?
Ye tell but that ye were.

And thou, O Hope! with smile
•And sunshine on thy brow,
Whose lovely visions aye beguile-
For who so false as thou?

Lo! stern Experience breaks the spell
Thy hand had on me cast;

And now I read, alas! too well,

The future in the past.

Then wherefore cling to life,

That frail and feverish thing,
With crime and care and evil rife,
And death upon its wing?
Oh, no! within the quiet tomb,

Or 'neath the grass-green sod,
My soul would find a better home,
'Till call'd to meet its God.
Norwich,

R. W. B.

The Sketch-Book.

No. XXXIV.

SMALL TALK.

IT is no easy matter to talk well. A man may read many books, and have a tenacious memory, and a sound judgment, and no small portion of critical acumen. He may express his thoughts in elegant language; he may season his discourse with wit, and be a living lexicon, and a walking encyclopedia; and yet, after all, be but a dull every-day companion. All the world don't read books; and all who do read do not care about them; but every body loves to talk. There is something very pleasant in hearing the sound of one's own voice; and when we are wearied with toil, or tired with thought, we love to chat, to set the tongue in motion, to relieve the sense of weariness.

This race of beings was kept at court till the time of Charles the First.

T 2

There seems to be a great deal of wisdom in speaking contemptuously of common-place talk; but it is all seeming. Real wisdom makes a man a most agreeable companion; but mock wisdom, the affectation of profundity, the prudery of learning, makes him quite the reverse. If a man of great learning be an agreeable man, it is not his learning that makes him So, but his dexterity in managing it. If he be above small talk, he may, for nine-tenths of the world, keep his learning to himself. It is an admirable conceit for profound critics in the ancient languages of Greece and Rome to spend years upon settling the reading of an old song, and write volumes upon a cadence, and bury themselves in dust till their souls are as dry as a stuffed alligator, and then give themselves airs upon the insipidity and nothingness of small talk.

The mistake is common, though not for that reason less a mistake, to imagine that it is the easiest matter in the world to talk about nothing, or every-day occurrences it requires an active mind, an observant mind, and no small share of that invaluable, unpurchasable, and almost unlearnable quality, good humour, to say something on every thing to any body. It has been sometimes noticed, as a remarkable and amiable trait in the characters of some men, of very superior minds, that they have been able and willing to make themselves agreeable to children; and not unfrequently has it been observed of great monarchs, that they had something to say to every body.

If a man must never open his lips, but for the enunciation of an aphorism, or never say any thing which has not been, or may not be, in print; if he must be everlastingly talking volumes, or discuss ing knotty points of casuistry, politics, or metaphysics, he will find the gift of speech rather burthensome, and but few of his audience willing to hear him out.

But I am not wishing to vindicate nonsense, or extol trifling. I am only putting in a clairn for the due honours of that species of talk, which must, more or less, be at times the occupation of us all. We have heard of conversaziones, where common-place is studiously avoided, where politics and weather are never discussed, but where criticism, or metaphysics, or antiquities, and matters of taste, form the sole subjects of discourse. This sounds mightily edifying to be sure; but the frequently heard in these parties. Let most egregious common-place is not unbut the topics of the day be known, the last novel, or picture, or public singer, and all the conversation may be anticipated. In order to shine, the mind puts

itself into the most strained and unnatural attitudes, and displays its possessions instead of exerting its powers; and many a poor soul dares hardly open its lips for want of having read certain books, or seen certain pictures, or statues, or opera dan

cers.

Small talk obviates these evils; the mind is at ease; there is no intention of saying any thing profound; there is no fear of disappointing expectation; and in this delightful recreation we often

"Snatch a grace beyond the reach of art." It is very pleasant to pass time agree ably, to keep the mind active without wearying it, to have all our hours engaged in some form or other; we cannot do this without some share of small talk.

Perhaps, if this art were a little more studied, we might find our account in it. The French are said to shine in this particular; they can thus make themselves agreeable at very little expense of time or thought; and if our own countrymen, without sacrificing their solidity of cha racter and compromising their sincerity,

I could take a lesson from their continental

neighbours, they would render English society, in grace as well as substance, the best society in the world.

WHAT IS MAN?

(For the Mirror.)

MAN is a being endowed with every sensible faculty, capable of doing good and evil; he is made by the all-wise Creator the most noble of the animal creation. Endowed with a mind capable of thought and reason, furnished with a soul that affords him the most sublime ideas-ideas which, when issued from his fertile imagination, proves his great superiority over all other beings. The very thoughts which are constantly issuing from that mind, when it is well cultivated by the advantages of a good education, makes him an ornament to the society in which he circulates, and sometimes to mankind in general. The talents and abilities he possesses are of the most brilliant cast when they are fully developed. The body expands in bulk, the arteries become daily fuller, larger, and longer; his nerves gradually firmer, and his functions more active. But this is a description of man in the prime of life, when he is nei ther troubled by disease, nor tortured by mental affliction. Let us compare him to what he was when a "puking infant" in his "nurse's arms"- -a poor little helpless being, possessing neither sense nor reason to guide him, (except a natural instinct to receive milk from its mother's breast; }

no strength to support him, no abilities to administer to his comforts, nor, in short, the common necessaries of life. When afflicted by the most trifling disease, he is not able to explain his feelings but by the most piteous shrieks and cries, which, were it not that he is supported by mater. nal and paternal affection, he would soon go to that "bourne from whence no traveller returns." Whereas, if we only look at the brute creation, we shall find that at this period providence has made them the superior of man, but only in this solitary feed without help, and what is more, is instance. The quadruped can walk and even clothed by the omnipotent God. In the creation of the world and mankind he

has shown his infinite power and glory. But now let us turn to man in his latter years, when he is about to shake off this mortal coil of infirmities and disease. When

old age approaches, the arterial system acts more weakly, the veins become filled, the irritability is less, the functions more weak, the glands diminish in bulk, the fat is absorbed, and the fluids become

more acrid. The arteries can no longer conquer the accumulated load in the veins, the brain is overloaded, and serum exhales in the abdomen and under the skin, the vessels of the glands cannot propel their fluids, the nerves no longer possess their former irritability, and the senses decay. From these causes the limbs grow stiff, the arteries ossify, or are partially converted into bone, the whole system is oppressed with a load it is unable to overcome; fact, the proverb becomes verified," once a man, and twice a child." Naked and helpless he came into the world, and help. less he goes out of it. His memory fails, his steps falter, his voice trembles, his health decays, his eyes become dim, and at last his vital functions refuse to perform their office, nature fails, and he expires. H. W. DEWHURST.

The Novelist.

No. C.

in

THE GOLDEN CUP AND THE DISH OF SILVER. EVERY one knows what a dog's life the miserable Jews lead all over the world, but especially among the Turks, who plunder them of their riches, and slay them on the most frivolous pretences. Thus, if they acquire any wealth, they are obliged to hide it in holes and cor ners, and to snatch their scanty enjoyments by stealth, in recompense of the buffets and contumely of their turbaned oppres

sors.

In this manner lived Yussuf, a Hebrew of great wealth and wisdom, but, outwardly, a poor beggarly druggist, inhabiting, with his wife, Anna, one of the meanest houses in Constantinople. The curse of his nation had often fallen bitterly upon his head; his great skill in medicine procuring him some uncertain favour from the Turks, but on the failure of his remedies, a tenfold proportion of ill-usage and contempt. In such cases, a hundred blows on the soles of his feet were his common payment; whereas, on the happiest cures, he was often dismissed with empty hands and some epithet of disgrace.

As he was sitting one day at his humble door, thinking over these miseries, a Janizary came up to him, and commanded Yussuf to go with him to his aga or captain, whose palace was close at hand. Yussuf's gold immediately weighed heavy at his heart, as the cause of this summons; however, he arose obediently, and followed the soldier to the aga, who was sitting cross-legged on a handsome carpet, with his long pipe in his mouth. The Jew, casting himself on his knees, with his face to the floor, began, like his brethren, to plead poverty in excuse for the shabbiness of his appearance; but the aga interrupting him, proceeded to compliment him in a flattering strain on his reputation for wisdom, which he said had made him desirous of his conversation. He then ordered the banquet to be brought in; whereupon the slaves put down before them some wine in a golden cup, and some pork in a dish of silver; both of which were forbidden things, and therefore made the Jew wonder very much at such an entertainment. The aga then pointing to the refreshments, addressed him as follows:

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Yussuf, they say you are a very wise and learned man, and have studied deeper than any one the mysteries of nature. I have sent for you, therefore, to resolve me on certain doubts concerning this flesh and this liquor before us; the pork being as abominable to your religion as the wine is unto ours. But I am especially curious to know the reasons why your prophet should have forbidden a meat, which, by report of the Christians, is both savoury and wholesome; wherefore I will have you to proceed first with that argument, and, in order that you may not discuss it negligently, I am resolved, in case you fail to justify the prohibition, that you shall empty the silver dish be fore

you stir from the place. Nevertheless, to show you that I am equally candid, I promise, if you shall thereafter

prove to me the unreasonableness of the

injunction against wine, I will drink off this golden goblet as frankly before we part."

The terrified Jew understood very readily the purpose of this trial; however, after a secret prayer to Moses, he began in the best way he could to plead against the abominable dish that was steaming under his nostrils. He failed, notwithstanding, to convince the sceptical aga, who, therefore, commanded him to eat up the pork, and then begin his discourse in favour of the wine.

The sad Jew, at this order, endeavoured to move the obdurate Turk by his tears; but the aga was resolute, and drawing his crooked scimitar, declared, "that if Yussuf did not instantly fall to, he would smite his head from his shoulders."

It was time, at this threat, for Yussuf to commend his soul unto heaven, for in Turkey the Jews wear their heads very loosely; however, by dint of fresh tears and supplications, he obtained a respite of three days, to consider if he could not bring forward any further arguments.

As soon as the audience was over, Yussuf returned disconsolately to his house, and informed his wife Anna of what had passed between him and the aga. The poor woman saw clearly how the matter would end, for it was aimed only at the confiscation of their riches. She advised Yussuf, therefore, instead of racking his wits for fresh arguments, to carry a bag of gold to the aga, who condescended to receive his reasons; and after another brief discourse, to grant him a respite of three days longer. In the same manner Yussuf procured a further interval, but somewhat dearer; so that in despair at losing his money at this rate, he returned for the fourth time to the palace.

The aga and Yussuf being seated as before, with the mess of pork and the wine between them, the Turk asked if he had brought any fresh arguments. The doctor replied, "Alas! he had already discussed the subject so often, that his reasons were quite exhausted," whereupon the flashing scimitar leaping quickly out of its scabbard, the trembling Hebrew plucked the loathsome dish towards him, and with many struggles began to

eat.

It cost him a thousand wry faces to swallow the first morsel; and from the laughter that came from behind a silken screen, they were observed by more mockers beside the aga, who took such a cruel pleasure in the amusement of his women, that Yussuf was compelled to proceed even to the licking of the dish. He was then suffered to depart, without wasting any logic upon the cup of wine, which,

after his loathsome meal, he would have been quite happy to discuss

I guess not how the Jew consoled himself besides for his involuntary sin, but he bitterly cursed the cruel aga and all his wives, who could not amuse their indolent lives with their dancing-girls and tale-tellers, but made merry at the expense of his soul. His wife joined heartily in his imprecations; and both putting ashes on their heads, they mourned and cursed together till the sunset. There came no Janizary, however, on the morrow, as they expected; but on the eighth day Yussuf was summoned again to the

aga.

The Jew, at this message, began to weep, making sure, in his mind, that a fresh dish of pork was prepared for him; however, he repaired obediently to the palace, where he was told that the favourite lady of the harem was indisposed, and the aga commanded him to prescribe for her. Now, the Turks are very jealous of their mistresses, and disdain, especially, to expose them to the eyes of infidels, of whom the Jews are held the most vile; wherefore, when Yussuf began to see his patient, she was allowed to be brought forth only in a long white veil, that reached down to her feet. The aga, notwithstanding the folly of such a proceeding, forbade her veil to be lifted; neither would he permit the Jew to converse with her, but commanded him, on pain of death, to return home and prepare his medicines.

The wretched doctor, groaning all the way, went back to his house, without wasting a thought on what drugs he should administer on so hopeless a case; but considering, instead, the surgical practice of the aga, which separated so many necks. However, he told his wife of the new jeopardy he was placed in for the Moorish Jezebel.

"A curse take her!" said Anna; "give her a dose of poison, and let her perish before his eyes.'

"Nay," answered the Jew, "that will be to pluck the sword down upon our own heads; nevertheless, I will cheat the in fidel's concubine with some wine, which is equally damnable to their souls; and may God visit upon their conscience the misery they have enforced upon mine !"

In this bitter mood, going to a filthy nole in the floor, he drew out a flask of schiraz; and bestowing as many Hebrew curses on the liquor, as the Mussulmen are wont to utter of blessings over their medicines, he filled up some physic bottles, and repaired with them to the palace. And now let the generous virtues of

good wine be duly lauded for the happy sequel!

The illness of the favourite, being merely a languor and melancholy, proceeding from the voluptuous indolence of her life, the draughts of Yussuf soon dissipated her chagrin, in such a miraculous manner, that she sang and danced more gaily than any of her slaves. The aga, therefore, instead of beheading Yussuf, returned to him all the purses of gold he had taken, to which the grateful lady, besides, added a valuable ruby; and, thenceforward, when she was ill, would have none but the Jewish physician.

Thus Yussuf saved both his head and his money, and, besides, convinced the aga of the virtues of good wine; so that the golden cup was finally emptied as well as the dish of silver.

Hood's National Tales.

MRS. SIDDONS IN THE CHARACTER OF LADY MACBETH.

North.- Sarah was a glorious creature. Methinks I see her now in the sleep-walking scene!

Shepherd.-As Leddy Macbeth! Her gran' high straicht-nosed face, whiter than ashes! Fixed een, no like the een o' the dead, yet hardly mair like them o' the leevin'; dim, and yet licht wi' an obscure lustre through which the tormented sowl looked in the chains o' sleep and dreams wi' a' the distraction o' remorse and despair,-and oh! sic an expanse o' forehead for a warld o' dreadfu' thochts, aneath the braided blackness o' her hair, that had nevertheless been put up wi' a steady and nae uncarefu' haun' before the troubled Leddy had lain doon, for it behoved ane so high-born as she, in the middle o' her ruefu' trouble, no to neglect what she owed to her stately beauty, and to the head that lay on the couch of ane o' Scotland's Thanes-noo, likewise about to be, during the short space o' the passing o' a thunder-cloud, her bluidy and usurping king. North. Whisht-Tickler-whishtno coughing.

Shepherd.-Onwards she used to come -no Sarah Siddons—but just Leddy Macbeth hersel'--though through that melancholy masquerade o' passion, the spectator aye had a confused glimmerin' apprehension o' the great actress—glidin' wi' the ghost-like motion o' nicht-w24