Of such perpetuation of the species there is no evidence whatsoever. A procreating association, or union of male and female parents, has never been observed, because such connexions do not exist. The birth and parentage of these strange and enormous productions have been hitherto unknown; because, until Dr. Voight's important disclosure, not a naturalist could tell whence they came.

My own judgment on the case under consideration is, that the miscreated and extraordinary constitution of the three young black snakes is owing to monstrosity; and by a similar anomaly in nature to that which occasionally produces monsters in the black snake, they may be engen. dered in other serpents belonging to the numerous species of Coluber.

If it should be asked, wherefore it happens that twoheaded monsters are more frequent among serpents than other animals, it may be answered, that this is very far from being ascertained and established. Two-headed births are by no means uncommon in other creatures; among which may be enumerated dogs, cats, swine, sheep, kine, and even the human race. Generally they are stillborn, or very short lived; and, by reason of their hideous and disgusting shapes, are soon removed from sight.

The like happens to other animals; and, among the oviparous class, to poultry and domesticated birds. The two-headed monsters usually die soon after hatching.

I have heard of a two-headed tortoise (Testudo) that lived to acquire a considerable size, by having taken food at both mouths.

Two-headed serpents, hitherto, seem to have been of small or diminutive size; leading to a belief that their organization, which allowed them to live and enlarge for a short term, or a season, forbade them to reach entire expansion, and old age.

Serpents are destitute of limbs, and are, consequently, incapable of monstrosity, in feet, legs, hands, and arms, either by defect, redundancy, or malformation; when it happens, therefore, monstrosity must be in the head or tail, and the head is most frequently the seat of it.

The prominent peculiarity in these monsters is, that they can continue alive so long, that they can receive and concoct food, and that they can thereby be nourished, and acquire bulk. It is to those qualities differing from the generality of other monsters, that the two-headed snakes owe the notoriety they hold among zoologists and travellers.

New York, August 1, 1825.

The Philanthropist.

EDUCATION OF THE DEAF AND DUMB. [Continued a former number.]

SIXTH DIALOGUE.

Scholar. No; I do not. I see that where there are effects there must be a cause; and that where there is no cause, there can be no effect.

Master. Well, we will call God the author of all things; the cause of all beings. We know that God is not compound, that he is simple, that he is a spirit, because he is every where. He is every where, because in every place there are beings which could not exist without his invisible aid and preserving care. As he is every where, and we do not see him, he must be invisible. If he is invisible, he has no body. If he has no body, he is simple. If he is simple, he is a spirit: the cause of our thoughts (which is the spirit) is, then, in this respect, like him.

Scholar. I understand, now, the words of this being, before he created man : "Let us make man after our own image." But how do you know that God thinks and wills like us?

Scholar. I should not know what to say of him: should be confounded.

Master. Raise your eyes on high: look at the sun; and,a night, before you lie down, examine the moon and the stars Scholar. I have done so hundreds of times. Master. Do you know the size of all these bodies? Scholar. No.

Muster. Do you know the size of this earth which w inhabit?-Scholar, No.

Master. Can you show me the distance of a league o its surface?

Scholar. Yes; I have walked a league, and I know how far it is.

Master. Well, you would have to walk nine thousat times this distance before you could get round the earth. Scholar. What a size the earth is! It is nine thousan leagues round!

Master. Yes. Well, the sun is a million times larger and the smallest star is much larger than the earth, and s big that you would be almost frightened if I could tell ye the size o some of them.

Scholar. But I do not see how that has any thing to d with what I asked you about the will of God?

Muster. You will see directly. In one instant, withe any pre-existing matter, by one single act of his will, th being, whom we cannot speak of without feeling ove Master. I know it because I know that he has made the whelmed with his glory, made the sun, the moon, t world; and I know that no spirit can make any thing stars, and every thing that you can see, and made the without having first thought about it. turn and revolve round one another without touchin Scholar. I understand that; but how do you know that Judge, by the effects, so surprising, of the cause which b he thinks? produced them; think of the weakness of your will, wh compared with his, which, whenever it is exercised, ways produces something marvellous.

Master. I know it because I know that he has willed; for it would not have been his will to have created the world without he had thought about it and considered it well. The essential faculties of a spiritual being are, then, the thought and will.

Scholar. The essential faculties of my spirit are, then, to think and to will.

Master. Yes; and it is in this respect that we are all the images of that being who has made all others. But, even in these two faculties, how great is the difference between him and us! How great, how vast, and how extensive is his thought, where the past and the future are as well comprehended as the present!

Scholar. What ideas you give one of this Supreme Being! He sees every thing; both things past, present, and to come; whilst we can scarcely see the present.

Scholar. But if we differ so much from God in our knowledge, do we differ so much from him in our will? Master. Yes; all in God is as incomprehensible as himself.

Scholar. Why have you told me of him when you should have been telling me of my soul? Master. Because there is between God and us so great an affinity that we cannot know ourselves till we are assured of the existence of God.

Scholar. Tell me of his will: is it equal to ours? Master. When you look upon a magnificent structure what do you think?

Scholar. I think there must have been hands, and a great many strong hands, and a good deal of ingenuity and skill to arrange it in such a manner as to excite our admiration.

Master. If any one should tell you that the arms of one man had made it all; that one man had planned and executed it?

Scholar. I should tell him that he was deceiving me. Master. But if he should tell you that this edifice was raised in a moment, the instant that the architect had conceived the plan; that his will had wrought such an astonishing effect that, without the assistance of hands,

his will had created all?

Scholar. I should say that he was greatly deceiving me. Master. But suppose it was all quite true, what would you say of the workman whose will was so powerful and effective?

SEVENTH DIALOGUE.

On the Attributes of God. Scholar. How great and how powerful is that being has worked such miracles! Where is he? Where does live? Where is he gone to, after having made all thing

Master. How childishly you talk! Do you think abo what you are saying? Do you believe that this being i workman, who leaves his work, and whe abandons it af he has finished it? Do you not feel that all that God h made needs his continual care? and that if he did not p serve us we should sink immediately into nothing? God then, in every place where there are any beings to preser

Scholar. But there are objects every where; in the a in the sea, in rivers, in the earth, and upon the ear God is, then, in all places; he is, then, in every pl where there are beings to preserve.

Master. And do you think that he is only in th places where there are beings?

Scholar. I think I can answer you: but first tell can he not create beings every where, and fill with th every part of the universe? Muster. Yes.

Scholar. Then, if he can create beings every where, fill all places with them, he must, then, be in all place

Master. Do you, then, really believe that he is pres in all places, and that he cannot be inclosed in a room, we are?

Scholar. Yes; since he created all things he must greater than all. I suppose, from what you have told of this great being, who has created all, and who preser all things, that it is from him that all beings have rece life and action.

Master. It is by him that we live. He is the lif every thing.

Scholar. But a being so great, a thousand, nay, a lion times greater than all other created beings put gether, would frighten me if I saw him, and if I belu

that he saw me.

Master. Do you believe that he does not see you being who is in all places? Do you think that a wa maker who has made a watch does not know the mec ism of it? Do you think that he who has made the

does not see the way it goes, and which he has traced for it? and that he who has made man, who has given him knowledge, does not see all that passes in him? Do you think that he who has made the noblest works of the universe cannot see them?

Scholar. He sees me, then, and he always sees me; he can see my soul as well as my body; he can see all my thoughts; he can see every thing that I do: how frightened I am to think that the eyes of God are always upon me, and that I cannot hide myself from them.

Master. Is he not the preserver of all other beings? Scholar. Yes.

one case, we must produce exactly the same train of changes by which respiration was first established, and an independent life first called into play in the other. We must remove the collapsed state of the lungs; we must furnish

Master. Is he not omnipresent ?—Scholar. Yes. Master. Is he not omniscient?-Scholar. Yes: he sees them with that fluid by which alone they can effect the necesevery thing; even our inmost thoughts.

Master. Is he not intelligent ?—Scholar. Yes.
Master. Is he just?-Scholar. Yes.

Master. Does he love like us, and hate like us? Scholar. No; since his power, his eternity, and wisdom are unlimited, his justice is, then, without bounds.

Master. I call that Infinite. All that God is, he is infinitely; all that he does, he does it infinitely. He is, then, infinitely powerful, infinitely immense, infinitely good, infinitely intelligent, infinitely just. God is, then, infinite in all his attributes.

Scholar. If he recompenses virtue, virtue will then receive an infinite reward; if he punishes crime, he will punish it infinitely; but, in order to be eternally rewarded, the soul must be immortal.

RECOVERY FROM DROWNING.

are bad.

Master. And do you think that if you could not compare these different actions you could praise some and blame others?

Scholar. No; it is because I compare them and reflect upon them that I find some agreeable and others disagreeable.

Master. Well; do you believe that God, who has given you the faculty of comparing and reflecting, does not compare and reflect also?

Scholar. No; a being cannot give that which he has not; he must certainly have that which he gives. Master. God, then, who reflects and compares, must see when actions are good and when bad.

Scholar. Yes; but he does not take any notice of them. He does not do as men do, who reward and punish one snother; at least I do not see that he does. I hear of rubbers who hide themselves, and are neither known nor panished. If God hated robbers as I do he would not suffer them to live.

Master. It is very true, that, during this life, we very often see the wicked prosper and the just poor and persecuted. Scholar. Well; this disorder proves that God lets men do as they like, without taking any notice of their actions. Master. No; what you say is not right. Scholar. Show me my error. Master. You will agree with me that the being who has created all others has never had a beginning; for, if he has made every thing, none of the things which he has treated could have made him. If he has received existence from none other, he must always have had a being; that 18 what I call eternal. It is very evident, also, after what we have said, that he occupies all space, and is, therefore, too great to be measured; that is, omnipresent. God is, thea, eternal and omnipresent. We have shown that he * præerful; but is he not also just? Yes; he is as Fast as he is powerful.

Scholar. What an idea you give me of the justice of God! How comes it, then, that God suffers the wicked to estape, and lets the righteous go without reward? I conf*I do not understand this.

Master. If he does not punish us in this life it is because there is another: it is then that the soul (whose nature and operations I have made known to you) will receive the rewird of its virtues, or the punishment of its crimes. Scholar. The soul, then, does not die, like the body? Master. Is not God a spirit ?-Scholar. Yes. Master. Is he not eternal ?—Scholar. Yes. Master Is he not all powerful?-Scholar. Yes.

[FROM THE GLASGOW MECHANICS' MAGAZINE.] REMARKS ON THE MEANS OF RECOVERING LIFE AFTER IMMERSION IN WATER.

BY WILLIAM MACKENZIE.

sary change on the accumulated blood which they already contain. A little venous blood has already run, no doubt, through the heart and into the arteries; and it is probably this very cause which sometimes renders re-animation im possible, even after the lungs are dilated; for the venous blood is the most deadly poison to those parts which were wont to be touched only by arterial blood. But the important fact is, that the vessels of the lungs are now turgid with venous blood, and that this one process only is capable of driving it through them-the expansion of the cells of the lungs, by air.

This, in his present state, the person cannot do for himself, and some one must do it for him. There is still a degree of irritability lingering in the lungs, and in the blood-vessels which ramify through them; but it is a very fleeting irritability. There is no time to go in search of bellows, by introducing which into one of the nostrils the lungs might be inflated, or of any flexible tube, such as a gum-elastic catheter, which might be bent through the mouth, or through the nose, into the chink of the windpipe-a contrivance which, if employed within a certain time for inflating the lungs, would generally secure the return of life. The man is dragged up on the bank of the water, and what we can do must be done now or never. Close his mouth, press back the top of his windpipe that the air may not run down through his gullet merely into his stomach, put your mouth to his nostrils, and blow with force and for some time. This, I conceive, is what we have to do, and what we ought to repeat; and if this do not succeed in exciting first of all a convulsive sob, and then a gradual and difficult renewal of respiration, I am afraid that no other means will succeed.

Andersonian Professor of Anatomy and Surgery, and one of the animation. I have no hesitation in saying that means Surgeons to the Glasgow Eye Infirmary.

We may have no assistant; we may be alone, with the seemingly dead person stretched out before us; and as this seeming death may in a few minutes end in a real death, we must instantly have recourse to the chief means for reis-Inflation of the Lungs. If luckily any bent or flexible tube be at hand, such as a catheter, it is to be introduced into the windpipe. The left forefinger being carried backwards and downwards over the tongue, the epiglottis will be felt, close behind which the tube is to be introduced and pushed down in the windpipe for an inch or an inch and a half. Then through the tube air is to be blown.

In relating the very numerous instances of loss of life from drowning, it is frequently mentioned that "the body was conveyed to a neighbouring house," or to a "surgeon's shop," and that ** every means used for the restoration of life proved ineffectual." It occurs to me that the very conveyance mentioned is often the cause of the want of If we have the assistance of another person, or of several success, and that, were the proper means instantly to be persons, they ought not to be idie. Let one of them, kneelhad recourse to on taking the body out of the water, re-ing down behind the inanimate person, endeavour to make the chest imitate the alternate enlargement and diminution covery would be much more likely to follow. Accidents of this kind always come unexpectedly-which it undergoes in natural inspiration and expiration they come with a loud demand on every passer-by to laying hold of the ribs on each side, and endeavouring first assist in the recalling of the spark of life; but as it is sup- of all to raise them and dilate the chest at the moment posed by most people that the treatment of such a case re- when the chief operator is blowing into the nostrils or quires something very difficult to be done, this demand is through the tube, and then allowing the ribs to descend, pressing them at the same time inwards, and pressing the unfortunately too often made in vain. belly back. These things our first assistant must continue, as long as we continue our attempts directly to fill the cells of the lungs with air.

It is now generally known that the delicately-sensible chink of the windpipe shuts completely against the admission of water into the lungs. The person dies, not so much because he is not in the air-he dies, not because he is filled with water, as the vulgar once supposed, but because he has been deprived of the atmospheric air. Almost immediately on being immersed, the person first of all expels a portion of air from his lungs in consequence of the instinctive necessity of a partial renewal of the quantity which is already there: he next makes an attempt to inspire, but a natural inspiration it is impossible for him to make in his present circumstances; the consequence of his attempt at inspiration is, that the water rushes into his mouth and nostrils; but against that foreign fluid the chink of the windpipe shuts with instantaneous convulsion. The demand for renewed air by the lungs is now repeated; the air in the lungs is still more unfit by this time for purifying the blood which is there waiting for the performance of that process; an effort is again made by the person to expire a quantity of that air, this empties the lungs still farther, and now another attempt is made to inspire, but in vain. A repeated expiration, and a repeated attempt at an inspiration which is few repetitions of this process takes place, the blood rests impossible, constitute the process of exhaustion. A very unpurified, the person drops, and but too often drops never to be re-animated.

There is a striking resemblance between the state of a body in which respiration has been thus suspended, and the state of a child before respiration has commenced. In both cases the lungs are collapsed; in the foetus no doubt much more than in the adult, yet the analogy is striking: the more so, that, in order to restore life in the

The other assistants, if others there happen to be, may dry and warm the body; and, if opportunity serves, a glister of warm wine may be administered: but let nothing interfere with the attempt to restore respiration.

I should never spend time in conveying the body to a house, nor should I set about drawing blood from the person's arm, nor should I be very anxious about restoring to him his natural warmth. The time which might be occupied in re-exciting respiration, which, if re-excited, will restore not only heat, but life, ought not to be taken up in any thing of inferior importance.

To read the directions which are published for the treatment of such cases, one might suppose deliberation and decorum as necessary as promptitude and effectual interference. We are told first of all to strip the body, to dry it well, and wrap it in the warm clothes of some bystander; after it has arrived at the house, where we are to follow out our attempts towards resuscitation, we are directed to lay it on a mattress, or on a double blanket spread upon a table, in a room where there is a fire. But in doing all friction employed be of so gentle a kind as not to propel this, we must take the utmost care that any degree of the blood towards the already distended heart.

Now, in place of all these, and many other long-winded directions, I would simply say, Infiate the Lungs

The same method is to be followed in cases of suffocation by foul air, only let it be carefully recollected, that in such cases it has been found one of the best restoratives to dash cold water in pailfuls over the surface of the body. Spreulls court, 22d June 1826.

Poetry.

REFLECTIONS WHEN ABOUT TO READ LORD BYRON'S MEMOIRS OF HIMSELF.

Our readers will recollect that the noble poet bequeathed his "Life" to Thomas Moore, Esq. stipulating that the volume should not be published until his decease. Moore, with a chivalrous feeling highly honourable to his character, committed the MS. to the flames, in compliance with the request of some interested relatives of Lord Byron, and, however deeply the admirers of Byron's genius, and the lovers of literature, may deplore that sacrifice, they cannot but honour the motive which induced Ireland's Anacreon to make it, the more particularly as he had previously sold the copyright to Longman and Co. for 3,000 guineas. The person at whose instance Mr. Moore destroyed the MS. offered to reimburse him for the loss he thus sustained, or to purchase the work, but he peremptorily declined those offers, and took on himself to settle with Longman and Co.

The following lines were written at Venice, by Ireland's Poet:

Let me, a moment-ere with fear and hope

Of gloomy, glorious things, these leaves I ope

As one, in Fairy tale, to whom the key

Of some enchanter's secret halls is given,
Doubts, while he enters slowly tremblingly,

If we shall meet with shapes from hell or heaven-
Let me, a moment, think what thousands live
Over the wide earth this instant, who would give
Gladly, whole sleepless nights, to bend the brow
Over those precious leaves, as I do now.
How all who know-and where is he unknown?—
To what far region have his songs not flown,
Like Psaphon's birds, speaking their master's name
In ev'ry language;-syllabled by Fame?—
How all, who've felt the various spells combin'd
Within the circle of that splendid mind,
Like pow'rs derived from may a star, and met
Together in some wondrous amulet,

Would burn to know when first the light awoke
In his young soul, and if the gleams that broke
From that Aurora of his genius, rais'd

More bliss or pain in those on whom they blaz'd—
Would love to trace th' unfolding of that pow'r
Which hath grown ampler, grander, every hour,
And feel, in watching o'er its first advance,

As did th' Egpytian traveller, † when he stood
By the young Nile, and fathom'd with his lance
The first small fountains of that mighty flood.
They, too, who, mid the scornful thoughts that dwell
In his rich fancy, tinging all its streams,

As if the star of bitterness, which fell

On earth of gold, had touch'd them with its beams,
Can track a spirit, which, though driven to hate,
From Nature's hands came kind, affectionate;
And which, e'en now, struck as it is with blight,
Comes out at times, in Love's own native light-
How gladly all, who've watch'd these struggling rays
Of a bright, ruin'd spirit, through his lays,
Would here inquire, as from his own frank lips,
What desolating grief, what wrongs had driven
That noble nature into cold eclipse-

Like some fair orb that once a sun in heaven,
And born, not only to surprise, but cheer
With warmth and lustre all within its sphere,
Is now so quench'd, that of its grandeur, lasts
Nought, but the wide, cold shadow which its casts.
Eventful Volume!-whatsoe'r the change

Of scene and clime-th' adventures, bold and strange-
The griefs-the frailties, but too frankly told-
The loves, the feuds, thy pages may unfold,
If truth, with half so prompt a hand, unlocks
His virtues as his failings-we shall find

The record there of friendships, held like rocks,
And enmities, like sun-touched snow, resign'd-

Of fealty, cherish'd without change or chill,

In those who serv'd him young, and serve him still-
of generous aid, given with that noiseless art
Which wakes not pride to many a wounded heart—
Of acts-but no-not from himself must aught
Of the bright features of his life be sought.
While they who court the world, like Milton's cloud,
"Turn forth their silver lining" on the crowd,
This gifted being wraps himself in night,

And, keeping all that softens and adorns,
And gilds his social nature, hid from sight,
Turns but its darkness on a world he scorns.
"Did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?"-Comus.

Our busy nation-my pen should have been
Rivals to Hogarth's pencil, to display

A single sketch. Amongst the crowd was seen
A farmer's wife, who, with unfeigned dismay
Stamped in her features, never ceased the keen,

But roared most piteously. All begged she'd say
What dire woes disturbed her; and, at this request,
She blubber'd forth with heavy throbbing breast:
"This morning sun scarce rose-alas, my grief!
When I got up, to arrange our little stock
Of sheep and fowls, I little thought a thief
Had stolen away the pride of all my flock,
Two fine male birds, of feathered tribe the chief,
My noble gander, and my turkey-cock;
They were the primest breeders in the nation-
The neighbours prized them for their propagation."
Here did the story of her trouble end;
Many disasters followed her recount,

From other neighbours, but I don't intend

To lay them down in rhyme, they would amount To twenty verses, and perhaps offend

My reader's taste, which may, ere now, account
My pen excursive, and I would not blend,
In dull or cloudy chaos, too much subject,
As that is adverse to a poem's object.
Around the couch where Charley lay, assembled
The immediate friends of our departed hero,
Who mourned in silence, they had not dissembled
Crocodile sorrow; enim ille vero

Dolore distat, yet their grief resembled

Not frigid apathy, which approaches zero;
For though no noisy moans mixed with their weeping,
The tears flowed fast. Thus all were keeping

Their midnight watch. The lamps were burning pale,
And shedding death-like lustre o'er the room,
And ever and anon the wintry gale

Buzzed through the casement, adding to the gloom; It seemed to mingle in the gen'ral wail.

Each fixed his thoughts on death, and on the tomb;
When suddenly from his pillow Charley rears
His ghastly head, and to them all appears.

A living corpse 1-to reach the door they strive,
And in the struggle, with indiscrimination
Upset their neighbours-not unlike a hive
of bees about a bed of sweet carnations,
Did each contend precedence to derive

In this disaster. Such dire consternation
Could not have been exceeded, since the period,
When, in Judea, issued forth a myriad

Of buried bodies. Charley was amazed,

And could not solve this very curious ch'rade: When, after having round the bed-room gazed, He saw the coffin, which his friends had made To case his lifeless carcase. Up he raised

His shrowded body, which displayed

A dread appearance. "Surely I was dreaming"

He roared aloud. But still that dream was teeming

With woeful mystery. "Let some one send
My mother here, as I must soon unload
My mind of heavy burdens, and amend
My illspent life. I feel the poignant goad
Of agonizing conscience, which would rend
The heart most obdurate; and, like a toad,
Sink deep the poisoned venom in the guilty mind,
And ne'er reject the grappled victim, till it find
Innate contrite repentance." Thus far he spake,
And, by that speech, showed what a sudden change,
A reformation, had begun to wake,
Within his fickle system, and estrange

His disposition. Still he appeared to ache

With hidden torture-wild fancies seeemed to range, To rack his brain, and threaten quick perdition In all th'array of idle superstition. We now must seek the mother;-she retired When Charley breathed his final inspiration, As all had thought. In private she desired

To tell her woe, and pray for his salvation, E'en now it is a custom much admired,

Which I saw practised on a late occasion,
When inmates die, to quit the scene of sorrow,
Enter your chamber, to repose, and borrow
Some balmy consolation from a slumber,

And thus, by artful counterfeit affliction,
Avoid much plague and trouble, nor encumber
Yourself with business, while your dereliction
To grief by all's imputed: but why number
The lady now in question with this herd
Of modern female weepers? She preferred
Her bed-room, that in secret she may vent
A mother's martyrdom. Here did she remain,
Until the servant, who had just been sent
To summon her, appeared, and, in a strain
Of well affected joy, counselled content,
For that her son recovered, and again
Could use his tongue. He wished her present,
To attend the queer rehearsal of his recent
Adventures; for although his body lay

A lifeless, stupid log, his spirit roved
In grounds which lie beyond the milky way,
And with ethereal heavenly bodies moved.
The servant finished here. Without delay

The mother filed to greet the son she loved:
Her eye (the moment previous dim'd with tears)
Resumed its woated lustre, and appears
Brightly pellucid—while adown her cheek
Trickled a pearly drop, sketching with skill
The strange transitions of an April week-
Such a metamorphose did it fulfil

As frequently we notice in a meek

And lovely fair one's countenance, who will
By chance at service,† turning from her prayers,
Behold a red coat standing on the stairs.
• Her eye.

Meant for church, by poetic license.
[END OF CANTO FIRST.]

MORAL.

How prudent soever good counsel may be, Your libertine's sure to make sport on't; If his habits it thwarts, 'tis all fiddle-de-dee, And that's the long and the short on't." Another Version, rejecting the redundant language of original.

A drunkard's doctor gave this precept strong, "Drink less, and thus you will your days prolong." "True," quoth the toper-" yesterday my clay Imbibed one bottle only-and I say,

I never passed so horrid long a day.”

W

Knight, B 4......C-6

2 Castle......C-TA 3 Castle...D-7X 4 Knight... E-7

5 Knight... E 5... C-6X 6 Castle

4 King...B-8

5 King............A-8

.A-7X MATE.

[NO. C.]

Communicated by a Correspondent.

Extract from the Register, June 8

"I except Liverpool, however, as being, generally speaking, a very vile place, a villanous borough, inhabited by a parcel of people that have neither public spirit nor private virtue.

"The gang of merchants at Liverpool," says he, "ape the Royal Exchange fellows of London; are equal to them in baseness towards the people at large, and exceed them in stupidity and insolence. I thank God that they are following fast in the steps of ruin and beggary; for until these gangs be completely pulled down-until events come, that will send the far greater part of them to sweep the streets, there can be no chance of the country

drawing made by one of the gentlemen, gives a minute description of the serpent, as seen by them. The number and credibility of the witnesses place beyond all doubt the existence of such an animal as the sea serpent."-New York, June 19, 1826.

Mathematical Question. In a plain triangle there are given the base (=20) the sum of the other two sides = 25) and the angle, which a line drawn from the vertex to the middle of the base, makes, with the base, 67 deg. 30 min. Required the geometrical construction, and a direct solution, of the triangle.

Flight of Locusts.-A private letter, dated at Baroda, mentions that the cloud of locusts, which has been hovering for nearly two months over different parts of the province of Guzeratt, passed over that city on the 23d ult. The writer calculates that the cloud must have covered 10 square miles, which, allowing only one locust for a square inch, would give more than 40,000 millions!-from observing them as they passed a very tall flag-staff, so far as the eye was capable of judging, they appeared to be equally thick fifty feet above the ground, as they were at twelve or twenty. The insects are said to have done little or no injury at Baroda, but to have passed onward with a steady flight, their course being from the south-east and towards the north-east, diverging from the right line of their route on reaching the city, the smoke and uproar of which may probably explain the change. Before their approach, and after their departure, their appearance was precisely that of immense and heavy clouds of dense smoke all along the horizon.-From a Bombay paper of Jan. 21.

ignorance of the coast, &c. In order to avoid him, attached myself to some fine young girls who were board, and began quizzing them upon the old forgery Macpherson.- Ossian," I said, " was as well understood and as much believed now, as Prophet Roberts, or Mo ther Southcote."-" Sir," said a young minx, "I heard portions of the original recited by native High landers, who never heard of Macpherson.' Ay," my old tormentor, who just then came up, "and you see Fingal himself before us, and Oscar not far beh without possessing even second sight."-" Nonsense! said indignantly. Look yourself, and see," said coolly. There is Fingal coming in his old track, fr Albyn to Erin, belching fire and smoke, which is more the his great namesake could do."-The Fingal was a steam boat from Glasgow to Belfast, and the Oscar another. "Well," said I, after I was enlightened upon this s ject, it is curious how the Scotch attach themselves their old fictions. I wonder whether they keep up t old habits and customs as well ?"-" Yea, and that the do," said an individual near me, whom I imagined tob a Quaker, "and thou wilt see, friend, before thou ente Glasgow, human beings more naked than even in Ossin time, sporting and displaying themselves on each side the river, without shame, and without opposition f any of the authorities."-" It is impossible!" I said "Friend, it is so," was the laconic answer. I found h was right; and the people who are supposed to possess much morality, decorum, and decency, were exhibitin themselves naked, every hour of the day, before hundre of ladies and gentlemen, without the least restraint, incurring no reprehension!

CELTIC SURNAMES.

(ARRANGED FOR THE KALEIDOSCOPE BY M'Q.

Those marked * are frequently wrote "Mac."

M'Natty

Naught Naughton

McPherson Phie

Phun

M'Ritchie Rob Robert

M'Veagh

Vean

Neal

Q.

Robie

Vey

Neillage M'Quaid

Robin

Neillie

Quarrie

Rory

I arrived in Liverpool on Monday, and found many of the intellectuals, and more of the un-intellectuals, all agog with the presence of Huskisson and Randolph. The latter, who is considered insane in America, was found to possess much wisdom in Liverpool. He was looked upon as a political philosopher, called, par excellence, “a sage,' compared to the great men of ancient ages, and declared to be as full as they were of Delphic prescience, and like them an adept in Delphic oratory. Huskisson paid homage to the new American idol, precisely, I suppose, because it was new; and just in the same way as he pays homage to all other untried men and measures without examination. But hold! I am showing, you will say, my politics-my thick-and-thinism to the old school. Be it so I prefer experience to experiment.

I

"How

Well, I got out of the Mersey and a mercy it was got out, for the vessel ran foul of another of larger bulk, but smaller power. I longed to see "Henry Bell," the founder or rather original adapter, of steam navigation in Scotland, and found I had felt him." What is that?" I exclaimed on receiving the shock. Henry Bell," was the reply." How can that be ?" I roared out. can Mr. Bell be the cause of the collision ?"-"It was the Henry Bell steam-boat," said a passenger; "but we need not fear him, as we are on board a Majestic vessel, able to overcome all accidents, commanded as it is by an individual who is more than man, though less than woman."-" Indeed," says I, "what is his name?" Cap. tain "Oman" was the reply.

Well, we got into the Clyde, and passed! Rothsay, where Kean, the tragedian, I learnt, had built a house in a situation which no one else would have chosen but for a grave. Some people, indeed, are so wicked as to hint that it was for some such purpose he designed it, and that his wife was to be the living tenant, in which she was to keep up the character of Isabella in the Mourning Bride, while he paid his Lover's Vows elsewhere.

I was thinking upon the calumnies of the world, and trusting in a few hours to arrive at Glasgow, when a voice near me exclaimed-" There is the City of Glasgow !”"Indeed!" I exclaimed, "are we so near?""Yes," said my former tormentor, "do you not see the smoke ?" -"No," I responded." No! why there are Glasgow and Carlisle both before you."-"Impossible," I indignantly exclaimed." Not so very impossible," he repeated: "that vessel you see there is the City of Glasgow, commanded by Captain Carlile.”—“ Oh !"

My tormentor stuck to me, taking advantage of my

Oh! (said the old pest) you may see it by the sme that arises from it."" Smoke! why it's not inhabite and there's no volcanic eruption in it, is there?"—"? (said he) no more than what arises from that funnel-it only a steam-boat, Sir." There was another laugh at expense; but I think I could turn the tables in this stance; for who would think of calling a steam-vessel the name of a barren rock, at which no boat touches, which excites no other feeling than wonder or terror? I determined to avoid this fellow, and so joined my to a company of Bacchanalians, who were drinking the cabin; I found my new companions pretty glori strong potation of whiskey and water, in a room adjo hence I consented to take a glass with them, feeling q satisfied I would see them under the table before I any way affected myself. Every body was talking, none listening;-at last a man at the head of the called out for a song. whole company; Come, David, give us a song." "A song," "a song," echoed the president, addressing a heavy looking, sly, and pa personage who sat near me." Fact, you know i ken we'll no anchor at the Anchor to-night?"—"W sing." ."" Psha, Davie; come, man, gie us a sang. if I must, I must. Blin' Aleck comes our way when drouthy, and so for a gill and a few bawbees I gart tip me ane about the Steam Boats, which I'll gie ye may sing it to twa or three tunes-I use twa."

(Davie Sings.)

THE WONDERS OF STEAM.

A New Song to an Old Chaunt.
Oh! this steam, it is a wonderful invention, sirs,
For governing all nature by hook or by crook:
Every thing in the world philosophers can mention, sirs
Is put in motion, now-a-days, by smoke, sir, smoke.
With fire and smoke all will grow fat,

And have a firm reliance, sirs,
On Henry Bell and Jamie Watt,

And all the sons of science, sirs.

Oh! this steam, it is a wonderful invention, sirs, For every thing is governed now by smoke. Castles, rolling through the sea, they fume like furnaces,

While Craigs are locomotive like Paddy's bog; Benlomond's Mountain moves-and now the Leven's tur To roll by the side of Ben-Nevis in a fog. With fire and smoke they will grow fat, And have a firm reliance, sirs, On Henry Bell and Jamie Watt, And all the sons of science, sirs,

Oh! this steam, it is, &c.