MACBETH, BANQUO, AND THE WITCHES. Ban What are these, So wither'd, and so wild in their attire: That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on 't?-Live you? Or are you aught That man may question?" You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. Mach. Speak, if you can ;-What are you? 1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, thane of Glamis. 2 Witch, All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! 3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! That shall be king hereafter. Ban. Good Sir, why do you start; and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair?-I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace, and great prediction Of noble having, and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not: If you can look into the seeds of time, And say, which grain will grow, and which will not; 1 Witch. Hail! 2 Witch. Hail! 3 Witch. Hail! 1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater, 2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. 3 Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo! 1 Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail! Mach. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more. By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis; But how of Cawdor? The thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence You owe this strange intelligence? Or why [Witches vanish. Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, THE meeting of the prophet-sisters, who had "more in them than mortal knowledge," with Macbeth and Banquo upon the blasted heath, has afforded Mr. Nicholson a subject for the display of fine artistic taste, as witness our engraving. The weird three meeting the warrior thane in the day of success," have dimly shadowed to him the honours to which he will attain; but whiles he stood rapt in the wonder of it, and burned in desire to question them farther, "they made themselves—air, into which they vanished." Yet not before their words of promised greatness have transported him "beyond the ignorant present," and made him "feel the future in the instant." Already can we see how deeply their "All hail, that shall be king hereafter!" has stirred him-already does the "golden circuit" glitter before him. "Look how our partner's rapt!" exclaims Banquo, who does not give the words of the witches so ready credence; although the messengers from the king are before him to prove their prediction true in part by calling Macbeth thane of Cawdor. ""T is strange," he muses: adding doubtingly, -Oftentimes, to win us to our harm, In deepest consequence. But Macbeth believes, and gives full rein to his fancy. "Two truths are told," he soliloquises; and beyond this earnest of success the crown shines indistinctly to his imagination. We can see even now some faint working of that "vaulting ambition" which by the murder of the gentle Duncan, who "bore his faculties so meek," and was his guest"in double trust," did indeed make him king; but soon fell "on th' other side." The sceptre promised by the weird sisters was placed within his grasp; but was wrested from it by "unlineal hand," and did not "stand in his posterity." The artist has finely conceived and realised the ideal of the poet. LANCASHIRE IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. BY JOHN EVANS. THE vulgar, democratic, and repulsive workshop of England" is no longer held at the discount to which it has hitherto been subjected. The position it has attained demands our respect and attention. Despite its smoke and gloom, its pale and care-worn factory operatives, its seasons of commercial misfortune and public trouble, the rough and uncouth expression of its people, its visitations of social misery and political contention, it has secured to itself an unequalled position. As a seat of immense wealth and power Lancashire stands unparalleled; and she is not only acknowledged as such in our own land, but throughout the civilised world. Wherever the ingenuity of Lancashire handicraft has shown itself--wherever the merchant princes of England have conveyed their stores; in the cities of the far East, or the isles of the Mediterranean, on the shores of the Baltic, or in the marts of Hindostan, in Western Europe or South America, Lancashire asserts her mechanical achievements and industrial greatness. Viewed either in the extent of her commercial operations or the vastness of her popu lation, in the greatness of her wealth or the developments of her mechanical genius, Lancashire object of deep interest. Wherever we turn, some manifestation of her greatness greets our eyes, some object excites our interest and wonder. Thousands of factories, pregnant with busy life, with looms and spindles, in one whirl of ceaseless activity; dyehouses, print-works, and bleach-crofts, with men, women, and children, busily engaged in their multifarious callings; foundries, and mechanics'-shops, with their ponderous engines, boilers, and furnaces; docks, with thousands of vessels receiving their cargoes for all quarters of the world; railways running in every direction, and canals extending their courses to every important district; marts thronged with bustling traders from every civilised clime; and a multitude of other objects, meet the eye, all indicating the wealth and edge may have scarcely extended beyond the metropower of Lancashire. To a stranger, whose know an polis, such a concentration of human labour-such a busy hive of human industry-must be a source of unlimited wonder. The gay world of London knows little of the magnitude of the business transacted in the world of Manchester or Liverpool; and it is only by coming in direct contact with Lancashire industrialism that any one can be sensible of its enormous extent. The present greatness of Lancashire is no more remarkable than her rapid strides to its attainment. Lancashire in the eighteenth century and Lancashire in the nineteenth century, presents as remarkable a contrast as we shall find in the records of any locality. Without consulting any statistical data, we may see the rapid improvements made even within the last ten or fifteen years. The increase in every department of labour is apparent. The number of hands employed, and the quantity of work turned out, compared with former periods, leaves no doubt of the rapid progress of the manufacturing districts. Notwithstanding the efforts of foreign competition, Lancashire has pushed along in her industrial career. Imbued with a true spirit of progress, her people have never been dismayed by any obstacle. The same principle of industrial perseverance, of determined self-advancement, that has influenced the career of some of her more eminent characters, seems to be the most prominent feature in the community at large. An earnest determination to be forward in the field of industry is the leading characteristic of Lancashire progress. One man, an operative in a mill, gets into a shed, and erects a few N looms; by dint of self-advancement he becomes the wealthiest and most extensive mill-owner in the district. Another, equally obscure, discovers some fresh preparation in the use of dye, and makes his own and his master's fortune. Another, a poor, ill-clad mechanic, conceives some improvement in the construction of a machine, and rises into eminence. Examples of this description are to be found without end, and may be truly said to form a key-stone to the history of Lancashire progress. Wherever an opportunity has presented itself to the industry of her people, it has always been turned to an advantage. "Labour! all labour is noble and holy!" has been the motto of Lancashire people, and hence their prodigious strides to their present exalted position. stances we have found this developed. A greasy jacket and soiled pair of hands have often been associated with a mind well-versed in mathematics, botany, music, or political economy. A taste for reading and study is a prominent characteristic of the Lancashire operative. An affecting instance of this occurred a few years since in Manchester. A large mill, while the people were at work, took fire. One of the hands, a young man about nineteen, discovered on making his retreat from the burning pile, that he had left behind him a copy of Euclid's problems. Rather than lose this treasured volume he ascended to his room in one of the highest stories; and, in his attempt to rescue the book, perished in the flames. An extensive cultivation of music, too, among the people is not the least cheering sign of The extent of manufacturing operations at the present their advancement; we believe music is more generally period is amazing. Even in 1836 the number of mills cultivated in Lancashire than in any other county. In was 884, employing about 140,000 hands. The increase Manchester alone, Dr. Mainzer and Mr. Weston have since that period, especially in cotton establishments, many thousands of pupils under their directions, most of is far beyond the proportion of former periods. Tra- whom at their general gatherings evince considerable velling through Manchester and its outskirts, and in taste and ability. We have very rarely heard anything Blackburn, Bolton, Preston, Oldham, Ashton, Roch-approaching bad or even mediocre singing in our dale, and numerous smaller districts, one would imagine, churches and chapels. Family music, with regular seeing the number and extent of the mills, that they and well-conducted part-singing, is a common feature gave employment to one-half of England. And many in the remotest districts. While our large towns of these ponderous piles are the result of a few years' have been infested with singing saloons and similar industry and enterprise, and most of them worked by haunts of vice and depravity, many laudable efforts men who commenced life with little or no capital. | have been made to extinguish them by providing cheap Could we investigate the history of every employer of concerts for the people in places apart from the sale of five-and-twenty years' standing, we should find them, intoxicating drinks. These exhibiting real musical for the most part, to be of lowly origin. Few of the taste and talent--have been attended with complete sons of wealthy mill-owners, when they have received success. Mr. H. B. Peacock, of Manchester, has institheir portion, think of investing it in the trade of their tuted a series of winter concerts in the Free-trade hall fathers. The ancestor has sprung from a lowly origin, upon this plan, and crowded audiences have duly apand those who succeed him in his industry and enter-preciated the excellence of the movement. Similar prise are of the same degree. Mere wealth, or mere monied capital, has not been the main cause of Lancashire progress; it has found its origin in the bones and sinews of her sturdy people. The progress of Lancashire in a moral and intellectual point of view has been no less striking than her commercial advancement. A spirit of self-advancement is as manifest in the work of moral and mental culture, as in the daily business of life. The numerous Mechanics' Institutions, Athenæums, Lyceums, &c., connected with the county, form a very striking index to the march of intelligence and morality. Almost every small district boasts of its literary institution, with its well-selected library, useful classes, and entertaining lectures; and where the district has been too limited in its means to support an institution, employers have either maintained a free library for their workpeople; or their work people, by subscriptions of a penny or twopence per week, have maintained one for themselves. Samuel Bamford, in a series of interesting letters which have recently appeared in the Manchester Guardian, has furnished several gratifying details of the efforts made by the working-classes in the southern division in the cause of self-improvement. In districts to which one would attach the most deplorable ignorance, Bamford has discovered traits of mental exertion creditable to many large towns. In our own rambles in the outskirts of Manchester we have frequently come across these small but useful libraries for working-men, and felt astonished at the taste and discrimination exercised in the selection of books. Libraries of this description, instituted by bands of poor operatives, are objects of considerable interest, inasmuch as they evince, even in the most remote and uncultivated districts, a growing taste for higher pleasures than those of the tap-room or the dram-shop. Whatever may be urged against the vice and depravity associated with a factory life, we believe there is generally among the operatives a secret yearning for more cultivated habits and pursuits. In many in steps have been taken in Liverpool and other towns, accompanied with the same issue. In the cultivation of art and science-especially the latter-the people of Lancashire have shown much advancement. Our exhibitions of art and schools of design bear numerous evidences of native genius and talent. Young men from the counting-house, operatives from the loom, and machinists from the machine-shop, are the preponderating members of our schools of design. Then we have our self-taught botanists, geologists, mathematicians, and naturalists- -men who have frequently risen to eminence, and sometimes an European fame. Eaton, Hodgkinson, William Fairbairn, John Kennedy, Richard Roberts, S. C. Dyer, and a host of other notables of mechanical genius, have all risen from poor estate. The pursuit of scientific inquiries in the humblest walks of life shows much for the cause of intellectual progress. Chemistry, as an important auxiliary to some vocations, is closely and extensively studied. In all the useful sciences Lancashire has progressed with remarkable rapidity. What she may not have done in literature or art she has more than compensated for in the sciences. Literature, however, has not been neglected. Charles Swain and John Prince, poets of high degree; Bamford, the inimitable author of "Passages in the Life of a Radical;" William Ainsworth, the accomplished translator; De Quincey, author of the famous "Confessions;" Mrs. Gaskell, authoress of "Mary Barton; " Mrs. Stone, Miss Jewsbury, and Harrison Ainsworth, the popular novelists; Daniel Noble, whose work on the "Physiology of the Brain" has a very wide celebrity; Hepworth Dixon, author of "John Howard, and the PrisonWorld of Europe;" are all of Lancashire birth and associations. Another, and not the least interesting feature in the movements of Lancashire, is the spread of buildingsocieties, garden-allotments, and other means for the promotion of domestic comfort and social prosperity. No people are more sensibly alive to the fact that their social and political regeneration must be wrought by themselves, than the people of Lancashire. To this end we find them steady and economical in their habits, limited in their desires, and applying their little savings to the purchase of small freeholds, or the rental of garden allotments. Hence the political power that has grown and is growing in Lancashire. The political ascendancy of Lancashire is not based on a straw; it is the result of real intelligence of a sturdy combination of efforts among the people to gain a position and maintain it. The exertions made here within the last ten or fifteen years in the cause of reform and progress are unsurpassed. In the advocacy of commercial freedom, religious liberty, national education, ragged and industrial schools, diminution of the hours of labour, sanitary reform, abolition of slavery, national arbitration, and encouragement of every branch of industry, Lancashire has stood forward with a bold and determined front. Prompted by the same spirit of enterprise that has characterised her past movements-urged by the same instinct of self-advancement that has contribated to her present position-with increased intelligence and fresh appliances, Lancashire gives fair promise of proving one of the most substantial bulwarks of our national greatness. ΑΝ ΙΜΙΤΑΤΙΟ Ν. BY CHARLOTTE YOUNG. The sunne it shon upon the grasse so greene, Whilome the birdes sang sweetlie on each tree, Yet seemed the daye a cloudie one, I ween, And sad the notes that zephyre brought to mee; Since he who is my sunne-withouten whom The other sunne is but a mockerieWoefull had left mee for the battle's gloome. Oh! cruell warre, to sever him and mee. This daye the raines doe dismallie fall downe, The littel birdes sit silent on the boughe; Yet doe I mind not Nature's angry frowne, Since my true love is smiling on mee now: Nay, more, I doe maintaine the skyes be cleare, And musick sounding whersoe'er I beeMy dearest heart, my life of life is here, And hee is musick, sunshine, all to mee! BURKE AND BARRY. BURKE delighted in lending a helping hand to genius struggling against adversity; and many who were wasting their powers in obscurity were led by his assistance to the paths of eminence. Barry, the painter, was among those to whom he had shown great kindness; he found pleasure in the society of that eccentric being. A long time had passed without his having seen him, when one day they met accidentally in the street. The greeting was cordial, and Barry invited his friend to dine with him the next day. Burke arrived at the appointed hour, and the door was opened by Dame Ursula, as she was called. She at first denied her master, but when Burke mentioned his name, Barry, who had overheard it, came running down stairs. He was in his usual attire; his thin grey hair was all dishevelled; an old and soiled green shade and a pair of mounted spectacles assisted his sight; the colour of his linen was rather equivocal, but was evidently not fresh from the bleach-green; his outward garment was a kind of careless roquelaire. He gave Burke a most hearty welcome, and led him into the apartment which served him for kitchen, parlour, studio, and gallery; it was, however, so filled with smoke that its contents remained a profound mystery, and Burke was almost blinded and nearly suffocated. Barry expressed the utmost surprise, and appeared utterly at a loss to account for the state of the atmosphere. Burke, however, without endeavouring to explain the mystery on philosophical principles, at once brought the whole blame of the annoyance home to Barry-as it came out that he had removed the stove from its wonted situation by the chimney-piece, and drawn it into the very middle of the room. He had mounted it on an old dripping-pan, to defend the carpet from the burning ashes; he had in vain called in the assistance of the bellows, no blaze would come-but volumes of smoke were puffed out ever and anon, as if to show that the fire could do something if it pleased. Burke persuaded Barry to reinstate the stove in its own locality, and helped him to replace it; this done and the windows opened, they got rid of the smoke, and the fire soon looked out cheerfully enough on them, as if nothing had happened. Barry invited Burke to the upper rooms to look at his pictures. As he went on from one to the other, he applied the sponge and water with which he was supplied, to wash away the dust which obscured them. Burke was delighted with them and with Barry's history of each, and his dissertation as he pointed out its particular beauties. He then brought him to look at his bed-room; its walls were hung with unframed pictures, which had also to be freed from the thick covering of dust before they could be admired; these, like the others, were noble specimens of art. In a recess near the fire-place the rough stump-bedstead stood, with its coverlet of coarse rug. “That is my bed," said the artist; "you see I use no curtains; they are most unwholesome, and I breathe as freely and sleep as soundly as if I lay upon down and snored under velvet. Look there," said he, as he pointed to a broad shelf high above the bed, "that I consider my chef-d'œuvre; I think I have been more than a match for them; I have outdone them at last." Mr. Burke asked of whom it was he spoke. "The rats," replied he, "the nefarious rats, who robbed me of everything in the larder. But now all is safe; I keep my food beyond their reach. I may now defy all the rats in the parish." Barry had no clock, so depended on the cravings of his stomach to regulate his meals. By this unerring guide, which might have shamed the most correct regulator in a watchmaker's shop, he perceived that it was time for dinner; but forgot that he had invited Burke to partake of it, till reminded by a hint. "I declare, my dear friend, I had totally forgotten I beg your pardon-it quite escaped my memory; but if you'll just sit down here and blow the fire, I'll get a nice beefsteak in a minute." Burke applied all his energies to the bellows, and had a nice clear fire when Barry returned with the steak rolled up in cabbage-leaves, which he drew from his pocket; from the same receptacle he produced a parcel of potatoes; a bottle of port was under each arm, and each hand held a fresh French-roll. A gridiron was placed on the fire, and Burke was deputed to act as cook while Barry performed the part of butler. While he laid the cloth the old woman boiled the potatoes, and at five o'clock, all being duly prepared, the friends sat down to their repast. Burke's first essay in cookery was miraculously successful, for the steak was done to admiration, and of course greatly relished by the cook. As soon as dinner was despatched the friends chatted away over their two bottles of port till nine o'clock. Burke was often heard to say that this was one of the most amusing and delightful days he had ever spent. M. A. THE GOLDEN DISTAFF. FROM THE GERMAN. THERE was once a proud and distinguished king, who had a charming and beautiful queen, the very happiness of his life. She died, and he certainly would have followed her to the grave in grief and sorrow, had she not left a boy behind whose welfare was near his father's heart. The king constantly employed himself with the young prince, who, with a ready understanding and an earnest desire to learn, improved all his time. Yet the life of the king was continually sad, because the thoughts of his mother reminded him hourly of the great loss he had met with. Therefore the king commanded that they should saddle his steed, and grasping his sword, bow and arrow, he rushed into the forest, in order to dispel his grief with hunting. In the midst of this great forest, he found a spot so lonely, so remote, that it seemed as if no human foot had ever disturbed it. There was a dark green lake, surrounded by drooping birches and black rocks. On the edge stood a hut, inhabited by an old woman, who lived here with her daughter in silent solitude. The old woman was given to silence; and, except instilling into her child, the sweet Hildegard, some good teaching, she never opened her mouth; and, as if the region where they dwelt was not solitary and gloomy enough, she had planted around her hut a stately thorn-bush, which made a firm, impenetrable wall, and forbade each traveller's glance whom accident might lead there. Yet it happened that the king, in one of his solitary moods, strayed into the neighbourhood of this place, and found a path which led through the rocks. He was hungry, and needed rest, and was fain to lay himself on the strand, in the shadow of the weeping birches, but his prudent servant, behind the thorn-hedge surrounding the hut, induced the king to advance for shelter. Frau Gertrude no sooner heard that the king stood before her dwelling, than she went to him with assistance. She brought a cleanly bed to him, and after he had rested himself from his laborious hunt, she placed a hearty meal before him. Scarcely had he emptied the dishes, when a maiden appeared on the threshold, who was more lovely than any he had ever seen. The matron, who knew what was passing in the king's mind, said "This is my daughter Hildegard, lord king.” And to the daughter, she said "Do reverence to his majesty, and present him his morning draught, and return to thy labour." Then the maiden stepped to the seat of the king, and after touching with her lips the golden goblet which she held in her hand, presented it to the king, and said "Welcome, lord king!" and then she left the apartment, as her mother commanded. The old woman, who saw the astonishment written on the brow of the king, said "I see you are surprised at all that passes before you here." When the king confessed the truth of this, the old woman explained by the following narrative: "You must know that I am the sister of a great prince, whose dominions lie on the shores of the Wolga. I was at one time a beautiful damsel, and many princes and lords besought my hand,, among whom my brother gave me free choice. Not one of them pleased me, because I had fixed my heart on a young knight, who, though poor in gold was rich in virtue. I was secretly married to him, and threw myself at my brother's feet. The haughty man would not notice us, but said more shall you or your descendants enter it again, until, with the dowry which I give you, you shall make an honourable entry into my capital.' "With these words he gave us a distaff, and with a scornful laugh commanded his servants to conduct us over the borders of his realm, and prevent our return. So we went forth ever farther and farther, eating of the fruits of the field, and drinking of the clear spring. There seemed no end to this our trouble; and my spouse mourned that he had caused me so much sorrow, and complained that he was the cause of my grief. This thought corroded his heart, and on the day when Hildegard was born, he was laid in the grave. This crushed my own heart, and I fell into a long sickness. The compassionate alone assisted me, and cared for my little forsaken daughter. I recovered, and thought of my sacred duty to provide for my poor child; and seized upon my only treasure, which was my dowry— the distaff. I remembered to have seen it often-it came to our house by the way of my aged mother, who received it as a gift from an Indian magician. Men gave themselves but little trouble concerning so trifling a thing, though, indeed, of gold; but it was so clumsily and awkwardly made, that no man was pleased with it sufficiently to handle it; they only spoke of it when it was an object of the scorn and reproach of some speech; and if they would vex a prince or princess of the house, they would promise the distaff for a dowry. This object of scorn was the preservation of myself and child; it furnished me a sufficient subsistence; and when I arrived in these quiet regions, and chose them for my new home, I laboured so diligently that I have earned me great wealth, which has enabled me to serve you food in golden dishes and drink from golden beakers." The king was much affected by the entertaining story of the old woman, and was so powerfully wrought upon by the appearance of the lovely Hildegard, that he became quite at home, and afterwards felt so lonely in his wide castle, that on the third morning after leaving the cot, he was on his way back to the hut. He was received in the most friendly manner, and again Hildegard presented the goblet. So it passed on, until the king demanded the maiden in marriage; and after some delay received the consent of both. Yet hardly had the beautiful maiden placed her hand in the king's, when a huge black bird of prey passed before the window, and filling the cottage with hoarse screamings, vanished among the clouds. Hildegard regarded this as an unfortunate omen, and could not restrain her tears; but the king was not alarmed, and bore his beautiful bride in triumph to his castle. The marriage feast was observed with great splendour, and in a few days Frau Gertrude appeared before the king: "You have now all that you desire," said she. "But in the midst of your happiness remember your wife, and secure her from the envy and the scorn of the wicked, when far from her quiet retreat. Believe me, lord king, she will have to suffer many attacks, because she has not come to your court from the castle of a king, though she may have the royal gifts of a thousand others. And that you shall not be forced to acknowledge that you have received a wife without dowry from the public road, I give you this distaff, which you know is an old heirloom of our house. brother once gave it to me in unholy anger, I now place it in your hands with a benediction. Be happy evermore! Me you shall not see again, because a plain woman cannot inhabit the castle of a king." And as my With these words she departed from her daughter, and returned to the forest. When the king one day hunted there, the lake, thorn-hedge, and the cottage had disappeared Soon enough were Gertrude's prophecies fulfilled. On all sides did the young queen endure many jealousies, |