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ken. Had we not before our eyes the salutary fear of a long prologue, we could dwell here with pleasure on the liberal encouragement which it has already met with—and on the profound sense of obligation, entertained by the Editor towards individuals, and the public generally.

The first number of the Magazine of Ireland must now speak for itself--and though we do not flatter ourselves that it will start into life armed against every shaft--we trust, like the myrtle which Minerva presented to the Athenians, it will strike deep root, and gather around it the founders of a New Academy.



She stood alone ; but on her every eye
Dwelt in mute ravishment; her long black hair
Flew loose upon the gale, but half confin'd
By the light veil and wreaths of braided rose,
Shading her bosom's matchless ivory,
And fell upon the lyre, like hyacinths
Twin'd fancifully around; a pensive shade
Was on the brightness of her deep blue eyes,
When the sweet tenderness of woman's glance
Softened the minstrel's fire that sparkled there.-
The song arose ; it was just such a strain
The soft Erato wakes, when she would sing
Of loveliness and love by sorrow shaded ;
Her voice (the syren's is not sweeter, when
She breathes her music to calm moonlight seas,)
Was fraught with tender feelings, and called forth
An answering harmony within the heart;
And even when it ceased, the listner's ear
Thrill'd with its wild and witching melody.
She stood, like some fair creature of the skies,
In mild unconscious beauty, and her eyes
Sunk to their timid station on the ground:
Her cheek was delicately pale; but when
They placed the laurel crown upon her brow,
Her face was mantled by a burning blush,
Bright, beautiful, like Summer's glowing eve,
Such as young Psyche wore, when love first taught
His own sweet language.


How innocent, how beautiful thy sleep!
Sweet one, 'tis peace and joy to gaze on thee!
Thy summer sports, thy cloudless gaiety.
Are bush'd in slumber ; but there lingers still
A smile upon thy lips, like the young day,
Flinging its sunlight o'er the half blown rose;
'Thy laughing eyes are clos'd, while the dark lash
Rests on thy dimpled cheek, where health has shed
Its liveliest carnation ; unconfin'd
Like golden clusters, shadowing thy face,
Thy chestnut curls twine round thy little arm,
Half hidden by the violets, which breathe
Their fragrance o'er thy head; thy snowy brow
Is clear and open as a shadeless sky:
There are no records there to tell of griefs,
That came like blights in spring, or winter storms
Of tortured feelings, withering cares and joys,
Whose und was bitterness, but here are found
Pure innocence, and love, and happiness.

LINES,- BY L. E. L. .

She kneels by the grave where her lover steeps,

With a cypress and rose she has crown'd it;
And there her lonely vigil keeps,

While the moonlight beams surround it.

Her hair is loose to the chill night gale ;

No more with spring flowers she'll braid it :
Iler dark eye is dim, her cheek is pale-

Sorrow can swiftly fade it.

She has knelt by that grave for many a day

Morn and cven still found her beside it.
Soon will that mourner be past away-

Her grief, the cold grave will hide it.

Her spring of youth was fair for a while,

And then the dark cloud came o'er it;
When once the blight checks the rose's smile,

Where is the spell to restore it?

• The Poems by L. E. L. are from a volume of Poems, by the fair and talented author of “The Improvisatrice” and “Troubadour," printed in 1821, but only partially circulated.



Whatever may be said to the contrary, it cannot be correct, that the simple effort to render one's self agreeable, is, the only means necessary to be used; the desire alone constituting the whole art of pleasing. I am the more incredulous, as a worthy friend of mine, has tried this good natured plan so long, and so little to the purpose, that instead of making any progress, he is pretty generally considered to be a very disagreeable fellow.

From his own acknowledgement, I am convinced, there are many requisites necessary, not merely to secure applause, but ordinary respect and civility in company.

Thomas Melburne had one general sweeping recommendation in certain circles he had been in the army,--a Captain in a Militia regiment, and was considered by himself, if not by others, to have seen something of the world, though not much service; having been quartered from time to time in several country towns. He was likewise convinced that he knew something of human nature, for he was long in the recruiting service, which gives a great insight into character. Many have thought him too ceremonious in his manner, as he was punctilious in all that respected the drawing-room. His father having spent many years abroad, was of the good old school, and acquired all the points and etiquette essential in forming the complete gentleman. He impressed those points so firmly by precept and example on the Captain, that our hero was never to be taken off his guard, and some said, appeared never to be off parade. He had also imbibed from the same much respected source, a most exalted idea of the fair sex, whose honour he preferred beyond the attraction of their charms. He was elated therefore sooner than any other man, at the sight of a fine woman; in much the same manner, he became intoxicated at the mess, generally before the cloth was removed, which was attributed to the sight of the decanters. His warmth or his weakness ever contributing to the conviviality of the society he was in, was sufficient gratification to his natural good temper and politeness, and he was too fond of good humour, not to contribute towards it, even by becoming the subject of it, to the great amusement of his friends.— Yet he has assured me that all this profited hiin nothing; a sense of mortification and disappointment always following him. He has studied and copied, to no purpose, the manner of others who were admired, told their jokes, sang their songs, imitated all their little ways: notwithstanding which, he remained unsuccessful, and was treated with insufferable neglect.

Every body may have, in the course of their lives, felt embarrassed at a large dinner table, where much conversation is going on, and the difficulty of abstracting themselves, or not possessing sufficient nerve, or volubility to preserve them on such occasions from the horrors of silence. It was the Captain's ill fate to be ever in a state of distraction, between the activity of his mind, the watchfulness of his ear, and the slumbering nature of his attention, the whimsical effect of this absence of manner, exposed him continually; for his reply to any question, would be the echo frequently of somebody at the remote end of the room, and once, he has thought it nearly cost him his liberty.

A friend of our hero's was paying his addresses to a young lady. The Captain was taken one day to dine at her house, and the young lady and

her sister were left with the two gentlemen, by the rest of the family, after dinner. It very soon happened, that the Captain's friend withdrew with the young lady to the window, and left our hero chatting beside her sister. The Captain could distinctly overhear the tender, warm addresses of his friend, though it was a mere whisper:--the soft and sweetly extorted promise,-her yielding sounded irresistable--so reluctant--yet so expressive and tender. Who will not believe in the power of sympathy? The Captain involuntarily seized the sister's hand-he pressed it-still listeningbut transposing what he heard, and while inflamed with all his friend's ardour, tried to speak of the passage of the steam boats, opera dancing, &c.—but, still lending his vigilance to what was passing in the window, his entire attention was absorbed, the emotions of the neighbouring cou. ple labouring in his breast. Overcoming all his usual habits of polite reserve, he was raising the lady's hand to his lips,—when the action for a moment was suspended, and our hero was roused from his reverie, by a sound box on the ear-his companion vanishing in an uproar of laughter.

The Captain complains of impertinence and ill-breeding, which is called“ being pleasant,” though it is always much below regulation manners. Such treatment would render others iniserable, but the Captain's mind was tranquil, and never ruffled by feelings of resentment; his self complacency furnished him with as good ground for happiness, as most philosophical nostrums; correcting the effect of every evil levelled at his breast, which could only find there, that they missed their aim, and found a tomb. Still he felt happy whenever the regiment got the rout, and went into new quarters, where he hoped to find a more favourable impression amongst new tried friends. At length there was peace, his regiment was disbanded, and he betook himself to a country life, and study. The Captain was far from being of an unsocial turn, and would not have preferred this secluded and solitary life, but from necessity. Every body, in due time, falls in love; and some ladies and gentlemen, frequently; some only once in their lives; others more persevering, perhaps occasionally, while the Captain, after this natural custom, often, we might say habitually complied with this instinct, whenever occasion offered. But some impertinent Ensign, or some direct refusal, always marred his hopes, or stood in the way of his happiness. He therefore cultivated quiet literary pursuits, reading books that the librarian of the adjoining village imagined were never to be read,--until at length, the whole stock of the circulating library became a mere“ tiffin” to the Captain's greedy and voracious taste.

The Captain's love of literature awakened great enthusiasm, which led him in conversation to express himself with all his usual warmth. One day he declared to a lady, he would rather be the author of “She Stoops to Conquer," than have £30,000, that is correcting himself) I have more respect for the deceased author, than for the living possessor of that sum. He saw the lady blush, for she had only ten thousand pounds,--she was greatly offended.

But he discovered she was vindictive and disagreeable.So in his turn, he “ cut her dead."

It would be tedious to follow the Captain through all the various abortive means he vainly used to obtain the good opinion of his friends and acquaintances. To no purpose he assented, admired, and obliged, sacrificed his own opinion, or adopted another's. Since he relinquished his red coat, matters grew worse. He found he lost some of his attractions in the ball-room. Having fallen into the ranks he seemed not to survive the fall. There are facts which we meet with, in our enquiries on any subject, that check our pursuit, and seem to cast a doubt on all our previous knowledge.

Now the Captain's case presents this obstacle to all theories on the art of pleasing. 'Pree from that matured selfishness called the “old soldier;" admitted to be a very polite man;—he never punned, seldom swore, was always well dressed, engrossed no more than his share in conversation, and for a man he was amiable; yet, I could never explain or observe what disqualification or awkwardness exposed him frequently to derision, and deprived him of praise, due certainly, to his merii. not owing to a certain weakness in his character, not to be discerned always.-Could it arise from the loss of his nose which was more apparent?

It was

Advantages to be derived from the cultivation of the Tritoma Uvaria in the South of Ireland; in a letter addressed to John Wilson Croker, Esq. first Secretary to the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty. By the Rev. S. Hans Sloane, L. L. D. Cork.

To John Wilson Croker, Esq.

Sir, Knowing the interest which you have taken for a long period in the affairs of Ireland, and your anxiety to forward any plan which promises to promote the welfare of this portion of the united Kingdom. I have taken the liberty of inclosing to you, the results of an interesting discovery, which I trust at no distant time may prove of advantage to the Navy of Great Britain, to the independent resourses of the country, and the prosperity of Ireland.

Having been aware that a substance which might furnish sails and cordage for the navy, at a moderate cost, and of a more durable nature than those already in use, has long been a desideratum with the Lords of the Admiralty. And having understood that the Phormium Tenax, or “new Zealand fax,” has been recommended to the attention of their Lordships, as a plant, the cultivation of which, was worthy of their Lordships encouragement and patronage, as it promised to afford a material for the sails and rigging of ships, of much greater strength than either the flax or hemp of Europe; but being at the same time, fully satisfied that the Phormium Tenax cannot be cultivated as a general crop in the climates of England or Ireland, without affording to it that protection from the frosts of winter, which must counterbalance the advantages to be derived from its naturalization; I have ventured to submit through you, to their Lordship's consideration, the result of experiments on a plant of the same genus, which, possessing a different constitution from the Phormium Tenax, may be probably found to be the long sought-for material, and of which, it may not be too much to say, that if recommended by their Lordships to the atten

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