vided amongst the robbers, after which the corse was placed in the sepulchre. At this horrid sight I became as stone, nor were those around much less affected than myself.

Towards evening the trench was filled, and the camp pitched a little way on the other side of it, but the progress gave no pleasure to me. With every moment my grief encreased, and I was about to slay myself, when Satyrus and Menelaus suddenly stood before me, as if they had risen from the dead. "Forbear," exclaimed Menelaus," if only grief for Leucippe prompts you to the act, for she yet lives;" and with this he struck the tomb, calling out, "Come forth, Leucippe; witness for yourself that you still live, since Clitophon will not believe my words." Scarcely had he ceased to speak, when I heard a soft voice calling from the tomb. At the sound terror shook my limbs, and I began to gaze on Menelaus, under the impression that he practised the magic arts, but he hastened to undo the tomb, from which Leucippe arose as from the dead. Scarcely could I believe my eyes, or, the better evidence of the warm kiss upon my lips, till Menelaus becan thus to explain the mystery :—

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"I am, Clitophon, as you heard me say before, an Ægyptian, and my lands lie near the territory of these robbers. Some of them, therefore, knew me, and for acquaintance sake were contented to give me freedom. Hence I got the opportunity of presiding at the sacrifice, and deceived the robbers by putting a sheep's hide round her body, and filling it with the entrails of a beast. As they did not venture near the altar, the deception was not difficult of execution."

In the midst of my joy for the escape of Leucippe, I did not forget to inquire after the fate of Clinias; Menelaus replied that upon the shipwreck of the vessel, he had seen him clinging to a fragment of a mast, but knew nothing of his after fortune, so that sorrow was mingled with my transport.

At the dawn of day I introduced Menelaus to Charmides, who, pleased with his story, received him into the number of his friends. Menelaus then informed him that the numbers of the banditti amounted to nearly ten thousand; to which the general answered that five thousand of his troops were equal to twenty of theirs.

While this conversation was passing, a boy entered to say that the enemy had received the expected reinforcement,

but, that at the moment of their onset, the sacred bird had appeared, bearing his father's sepulchre, whereupon they had been obliged to delay their attack. Upon my expressing astonishment at this tale, it was replied to me, "the bird in question was the Phoenix, who is a native of Ethiopia, of the size and colour of the peacock. His wings are gold and purple blended, and he boasts that he is the bird of the sun; boast made good by the crown upon his head, which bears the solar image. His condition is such, that when living he is enjoyed by the Ethiopians, when dead, by the Egyptians. At the instant of his death, which does not take place till after many years, his son bears him to the river Nile, and forms his sepulchre after this fashion. He takes a piece of the sweetest myrrh, of size sufficient to hold the body, and, having excavated the myrrh, places therein his dead parent. In this state, surrounded by inferior birds, he bears him to the land of Egypt; here he delivers him to the priests, whose children commit the sacred bird to earth: so, that living he dwells in Ethiopia, and dead he is entombed in Egypt."

END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
(To be Resumed.)

AN IRISH PROSPECTUS.

AN Irish lady, the mother of a celebrated actress, now performing at one of the London theatres with distinguished success, applied to a printer to draw up a prospectus from the following Sketch, as she termed it :

"The title of the work, is the Man of Fashion, or Inocent Suferer, by the widow of an oficer of rank, who has travel'd all over the Continent, with the series of many interesting letters, that shews the mortality of human life, and the state of an unhappy orphan, reduced from afluence, to fatal distress, without one consoling friend her paings to share.Many interesting anecdotes of Ilustruous Character and ncbility. To which a key will be given.-This is only intended as a sketch, to give the printer an idea of what is men't.— The one that was first writen is mislaid-it is much better than this-it is intended to catch the eye and touch the feelings of the nobility, gentry, and the public at large-therefore it is left entirely to the printer for polish, and every thing else. This is merely the heads."

LONDON STREETS.

THEIR NAMES AND ORIGIN.

HAVING occasion to enter the shop of a worthy green-grocer of the feminine gender a few days ago, who supplies my garret in Grub-street with coals, candles, (or rather rushlights,) and other odd necessaries, when I can pay for them, (for she gives no credit, as a board behind the counter significantly and anticipatively states,) I was the unintentional hearer of certain wise and wonderful predictions, uttered by an old lady who cries mackarel, and a venerable politician, who, from his garments, I was induced to denominate a dustman, of and concerning the badness of trade. Profound were the reflections and pregnant with prescient light the auguries of the learned colloquists; the one of whom confidently predicted wreck and ruin to the whole nation, if annual Parliaments were not speedily granted, and the other sapiently observed "that if as how business didn't come about, half of the folks in the country would be starved, t'other half would come to a violent end, and the rest would be transported to Botany Bay."

Alas! alas! thought I, as I left the shop, after having received my three-farthings of change, such are the fluctuations of commerce!-Every state on which that delusive being has shed its meteor-light, has experienced, more or less, the evils which that intelligent man in the tattered waistcoat has so confidently foretold. The barren rock of Tyre, once glittered in all the glory of opulence, magnificence, and shone on the ocean like a blooming bride, arrayed in the richest jewels of the east; what is she now? Carthage covered the sea with her fleets, and the earth with her armies; where are they now? Holland, Flanders, and the Hanse Towns, severally rioted in the luxury of wealth, and the anticipation of increased and increasing grandeur and dominion. Alas! grass is growing in the once well-filled market of Ghent, and the ditches of the Dutch are all they have left of their commercial conquests, and their mercantile importance. Such, such, said I to myself, are the calamitous consequences of commerce; but what are its benefits, thought I, as Finsburysquare rose to my view; if it pulls down, does it not build up? if it sinks a state into the abyss of corruption, does it

not first exalt it into a proud and a glorious eminence of intellectual greatness, and political grandeur?

The name of that beautiful square before me is indicative of a period, when instead of being the residence of hundreds of liberal, opulent, and enlightened individuals, it was a field of fruits and flowers, and as such, was granted by Richard the Second to Robert de Willingham, then Prebendary of the Parish of St. Giles, Cripplegate, under the title of the Garden of Vinesbury, and from that circumstance has been called Vinesbury, or Finsbury Square.

Houndsditch-where the tribes of Israel, and sects of Christ, swarm in such countless variety, was once a dirty dyke, piled with filth and dead dogs, and, from the unfortunate fate of the latter, and particularly their unhallowed burial, derived its name.

Fleet-market-one of the most populous, and one of the principal marts of the Metropolis, was once a little navigable river, where the small craft of certain petty inland traders proceeded to Holborn- bridge, and

Holborn itself was a little village, then called Old Born, or Hill-born, from a stream which broke out there, and ran to the aforesaid river of Fleet.

Smithfield-now encircled by lofty houses, and encircling innumerable cattle, that recline on its stony carpet, and within its wooden pens, was once a fine meadow, whose velvetlike softness procured for it the name of Smith or Smoothfield, but whose tenants were similar to those that now occupy it, save that the former went of their own consent, whereas the latter are driven-those had grass, these have only

stones to eat.

These instances are sufficient to prove the position that commerce, notwithanding its evils, is the benefactor of man. She has converted a barren heath into a blooming garden-a petty rivulet into a majestic river a ditch of dead dogs, into a street of living Jews—a little dyke into a great market a paltry village, into a populous parish, and a miserable island into a mighty nation. Their several names demonstrate their origin, and, as they have been useful, thought I to myself, in this respect, I will continue the inquiry, and trace the derivation of other cognomenical localties-with this view I set to work, and found that the majority of streets had their names either from Popish ceremonies, their particular uses, or their peculiar inhabitants.

Covent-Garden-where the high priestesses of Flora and Pomona are ever seen, with their variegated flowers and exhilarating fruits, and in whose precincts that arch-rogue Liston has so often with wicked waggery burlesqued our erudition, and our forgetfulness, in the person of Dominie Sampson, gloomy friars and ghostly monks once walked in meditative thought and moody abstraction-and the Convent Garden once had Trees, from whence issued delightful harmony, but not like the Tree that flourishes there yetKnights of the holy Temple, greatly inferior to Knight of the profane play-house Abbotts of lordly paunch and severe learning, whose love of good things is the only feeling they inherited in common with their present namesake, and whose worship of St. Stephen, in the galaxy of beatified spirits, reminds us of our adoration. of the charming Miss Stephens, in the gallery of Covent-Garden Theatre.

Talking of Theatres puts me in mind of Sadler's Wells, where I lately lost my last wig, which had been a faithful companion. for the tithe of a century, in consequence of the convulsive fits of laughter into which that grinning rogue Grimaldi continually threw me. But his tricks, expert and arch as they are, assisted by the wonderful exploits of the dog Bruin, and the never-to-be-forgotten feats of Monsieur (what's his name?) on the tight and slack rope, are nothing compared with what the holy friars did at the same place two or three hundred years before. Then the waters were famous for the cure of all sorts of diseases, mental or bodily, accidental or hereditary, and from thence derived the name of The Wells, which when Mr. Sadler, a music master, built a house there, became Sadler's Wells; now their efficacy is confined to mental disorders, and they are absolute specifics for all attacks of the spleen, ennui, blue devils, bad weather, and low spirits.

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It is an easy transition from Sadler's Wells and its hero Bruin, to Dogwell-court, Whitefriars, which took its name from a dog having fallen into a well, (which is still to be seen in the cellar of the upper house in the court,) and being thereby cured of a most inveterate mange. From this accident the well grew into very great repute, insomuch that in monkish times it was prodigiously resorted to by persons afflicted with cutaneous disorders; but alas! since the unholy dissolution of the monasteries, and the banishment of those