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of our European litcrati is in their library; on the other hand, the library of the learned Indians is in their memory.

The Indian is still but a child, but is now about to be admitted into the rank of men. I now come to the most remarkable era of his life, namely, marriage; the birth of man is encom. passed with clouds; the close of life is attended with pains and tears; but marriage, placed between his first and his last troubles, is an epoch to which all nations have affixed ideas of mirth and prosperity. At this period it is that man in reality chuses a country, by becoming the head of a new family; he fixes his habitation on the earth and his station in society. The Indians attach the utmost importance to the celebration of their marriages. As soon as a young Indian has attained his ninth or tenth year, his parents begin to look out a wife for him; the latter is commonly two or three years younger than himself. Pains are then taken to bring the two children together, to see if any incompatibility of temper appears in their innocent pastimes. Meanwhile the parents draw up the marriage contract and prepare the ceremonies that are to confirm the civil tie. The marriage is celebrated, but not consummated till the parties attain the age of puberty. Every thing is regulated by the wisdom of the paren's and Manmadin; the Indian Cupid is never invoked in the hymeneal ceremonies and preparations. It seems astonishing, but very few unfortunate matches are to be seen in India, although the parties take each other without any previous acquaintance, and at an age when the heart is not capable of judging what it ought to love; this observation would not prove in favour of those marriages among us, which we call marriages of inclination. The custom of marrying children tends to the preservation of morals amongst the Indians. You never see an Indian spend his youth in debauchery, and then carry to the altar of hymen the impotent tribute of an enfeebled mind and an impaired constitution. The ideas and disposition of the young couple unfold them- | selves under the eyes of their parents. The Indian knows no other woman than his wife, and the wife is solicitous to please no other man than her husband; without having loved by choice, they love each other by habit; thus their morals are preserved more pure, their passions are less turbulent, the Indians live longer and more happy; their blood is, if I may be allowed the expression, as pure as their souls, their population is more numerous, and their persons more handsome.

When all the preparations for the marriage are completed, a statue of Pollear is placed in the court of the paternal habitation; the Bramins offer up to the God of marriage, cocoas, bananas,

and betel; they implore his protection, and be. seech him to be propitious to the union they are about to celebrate. For a few days preceding the marriage, the dancing girls attend, to act plays and sing epithalamiums in honour of the young couple. The parents receive, under the pendal, a kind of tent, the visits of ceremony and presents of those who come to congratulate the bride and bridegroom. The wedding is celebrated by a festival which continues several days, and a solemn procession through the principal streets of the town, on which occasion all the presents given to the new-married couple, and even their nuptial bed, are exposed to public admiration. A company of bayaderes goes before the palanquin, in which the young bride is carried; the bridegroom goes on horseback, followed by all his family. This train stops in all the public places, and the bayaderes divert the public by an exhibition of their dances, whilst the instruments that precede the retinue keep up an incessant noise. The house of the young couple and the adjacent streets are decorated with garlands, illuminated during the night, and as long as the wedding lasts none of the neighbours are able to close their eyes.

The Indians, as must have been observed, are extremely superstitious; they not only believe the influence of the stars, but regard the nost trifling circumstances as prognostics. They even go so far as to attribute a malevolent character to looks, the consequences of which they are soli citous to avert. If any one looking at the bride passing by should envy the bridegroom, it would be a very unfavourable omen; thus, at the return of the triumphal procession, in which the bride|| groom may have been exposed to indiscreet looks, certain ceremonies are performed to break the charm, and to prevent its ill effects. A bason full of water coloured, is turned round thrice be. fore the bridegroom's face, and afterwards thrown into the street. Sometimes a piece of cloth is torn in two before the face of the new-married couple, and the pieces are thrown away in dif. ferent directions. They are frequently contented with shaking the cloth before their eyes, and then throwing it away, as if impregnated with the poison of envy. Certain mystical rings are also fastened to their heads, to which is attributed the virtue of averting the effect of fatal omens.These ceremonies are usually performed by old women who are no longer able to excite desire. The youngest, and above all the handsomest, would only hasten, instead of preventing the evil.

[To be continued.]

FAMILIAR LECTURES ON USEFUL SCIENCES.

LETTERS ON BOTANY,

FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER FRIEND.
[Continued from Page 211.]

LETTER X.

MY DEAR EUGENIA, YESTERDAY the weather was beautiful, I herbarized for you; the lark was my companion; her note is lively, and one cannot pass the gate without hearing it. Nature shortens distances; in the fields we gather the same flowers, we inhale the same perfumes, we listen to the same concert, and our souls, in the same atmosphere, can render homage to the great creator of the universe, who invites us to share an ineffable and general felicity.

I gathered a fine plant called corn-cockle, or agrostema githago; it has five petals of a reddish purple, the under parts of which is white, but marked with three stripes. Otherwise colours are seldom a character in plants, and it is said that there is a variety of the corn-cockles all white.

The roots of plants, and particularly the under part of their leaves, imbibe humidity in a manner which surpasses all supposition. The transpiration made by the surface of the leaves is in proportion. This result adds to the salubrity of the air, that is impregnated with moisture, which otherwise it would not enjoy; the cold is less severe, and the ground is rendered more fruitful by the number of plants which clothe its surface.

The cockle is supported on a stem, both straight and stiff; its flower, which bends to facilitate the mysteries which it conceals, rises again when they are completed The stem is of a light green, and is covered with a sort of net, rough to the touch. It has lumps at certain distances from each other, like the pink; two leaves covered like the stem, linear, or rather lanceolated like those of the pink, encircle each of those lumps, from which generally springs forth another branch. Those leaves are called lanceolated which are long and narrow, particularly towards the top and bottom, and terminate in a point; the linear leaves are narrow, terminate in a point, and have no visible diminution.

The calyx is found at the end of the branch like a swelling in the stem; it is fluted, hairy, and divided into five parts, whose lengthened extremities support the petals and prevent their

dividing, and afterwards unite to envelope the fruit. This enormous capsule ripens in the calyx in the same manner as the nut.

It is in order to become wide enough to con. tain that capsule, that the calyx is at first fluted or plaited. These plaits are the effects of the providence of nature, as the tucks in children's frocks are the effects of the provident and economical mother.

I opened the capsule with a pin, and found it full of a thick liquor, which doubtless is the juice that nourishes the plant and the white seeds which rise like a pyramid.

I reckoned thirty-eight, sticky, and about the size of little lentils, each held by stages upon its little petiole; now that they are fallen, the reunion of these petioles forms a colonnade of unequal pillars, they are thus perfectly arranged, and all the little harvest is held in a space less than a thimble.

Let us examine the flower. To know the flower well we must always tear it. I took out the calyx, which is hard, and defends the depot which it encloses.

There are six stamina with white filaments, surmounted with purple anthers; these are so very perceptible that I discovered them at the first inspection of the corol; to these I must add four smaller ones, placed on the claw of the petals, that is to say, on the part of the petal which adheres to the receptacle.

I find that the one half of these stamina, which place my plant in the decandria, is attached to each of the petals, while the others are fastened to the receptacle under the ovary. I still think that the small stamina increase as the large ones decrease, to the end that they may be in a state of paying their tribute to the five pestils of the

Ovary.

In several plants the stamina shed their dust successively upon the stamina of the pestil. This charming plant is in the pentagymia order.

I learn as I describe; I have little confidence in my own knowledge, but does it not appear to you that we are treading an unknown path? A poem might be composed on the pleasures of ignorance,

LETTER XI.

MY DEAR EUGENIA,

I am going to give you a description of a handsome plant, which nature has profusely sown amidst old ruins, and which is now in bloom.

The weather, the rains, and the insects all combine to produce, even on stones, the flattened lichen, which assumes the shape of roses.

A sort of humus, or fertile earth, is composed on the lichen; on this grows a fine moss, from which flowers are soon seen to spring forth.

One of the plants most frequently found is the white-flowered stonecrop, or sedum album, decandria pentagynia.

Prepared for all the inconveniences which accompany its situation, it is armed with hard hair, close and pricking; the leaves long, and placed irregularly, are defended in the same manner, their upper part is like a rasp; those of the base are larger, thicker, and like a thorny bush.

Each flower supports a peduncle, which on one side is charged with flowers, that are ranged two by two; the first are full blown, the second less so, and those at the extremity are almost always buds; the weight of these flowers bend the penduncle which carries them, and gives it a very graceful appearance.

Little floral leaves accompany each of the flowers; the calyx, clothed like the leaves, has five deep divisions; it is there that the seeds repose and ripen.

The corol is of a light blue, and monopetalous, open and shaped by nature almost without care. The longest part of this irregular corol is found, by the half horizontal position of the flower,

The stem of this plant is round, hard, sometimes rather crooked, and covered with a smooth red bark. It has for leaves little fleshy excrescences, without petioles, filaments, notches, or any perceptible veins, and which are ranged alternately; the upper part of the leaf is of a red-laying on a parallel with the peduncle, so that

dish colour, the under green. If you attempt to open them with a pin, a sort of water comes out, and the fleshy part does not in any way divide.

On several branches, which grow on the top of the stem, is found a pretty little tuft of white flowers, in a corymb shape. The corol and the filaments of the stamina are white; the anthers are like little brown spots; the pistil is of a roseate hue, which gives to this plant a very pretty appearance on its bed of moss.

Not only the branches of this plant are of the corymb shape, but from their extremities also escape little branches covered with flowers like those of the heliotrope. The tuft is not regular which I think adds to its beauty. The flower in miniature has also its little calyx. It is divided into five parts, which have at their base a small equal swelling.

The ten filaments of the stamina, proudly erect, may be reckoned; the five rose-coloured pistils swelled and united in the centre of the stamina, have already received the seed, and reflect their shade on the entire surface of the flowers.

Nothing can be prettier than the bud of this flower. The leaves, which are laid one over the other without a single fold, may be with a small pin unfastened. The stamina and the pistils are discovered, like the children of the colonies, under the same ajoupa. The anthers are quite brown, but the pistils have not yet attained their rosy hue.

I now gather the wall viper-grass. This, too, is a production profusely strewed in high roads; it is robust, and rises pretty high; its stem is straight and strong, and from its base spring forth several vigorous branches.

No. V. Vol. I.

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it serves as a veil to the parts of fructification; the upper part has a notch in the middle; the sides of the corol are notched but not so deeply, and the under part, very much shortened, is also notched in the centre.

Five reddish stamina, a long pistil, white and bifid, fills this reversed cornucopia, and often extend to the outside, when the seeds are formed.

The stem of this plant is covered with so many brown spots, hard like thorns, that it has received the name of viper-grass. The botanists call it echium vulgare. You have already placed it in the pentandria monogynia.

Here is my lesson, my dear friend, you ask me to continue writing I should like much to know whether in my pictures you recognize all the originals; nevertheless, it is you that led me into the path I now follow, it is you that direct

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Its flower presents two straight wings of a fine violet colour, and soft like velvet, from which two smaller ones expand, these are violet at the extremities, but the other parts are of a pale yellow, and they only preserve two violet stripes of great regularity.

At last a fifth triangular petal is seen to advance, whose edges are tinged with the shade of violets, and the rest of a bright yellow, shaded with stripes of violet. This petal, a little concave, is tightly folded and notched in the middle; its edge is perfectly round, as well as all the outsides of this pretty flower.

It is in the little channel formed by the reunion of the two side wings, and the large pistil in the middle, that repose the mysteries of the fructification.

The two little wings bend as they approach, and form a vault, the entrance of which is bordered with down.

The calyx which preserves this flower is not covered as in other plants, it seems to unite, and hold it underneath as with a pair of small pincers. The little spur formed by the tube, which serves as an asylum for the stamina and pistils,

remains uncovered, and touches the thin and long peduncle, whose flower makes it always bend at the extremity.

This calyx resembles in no way those we have as yet examined; it is in five parts, which only appear to approach each other, and stuck on the flower, they unite together towards the middle of their length; this re-union forms a little dent which raises the two extremities of the round parts of the calyx, so that it appears as a little fringed trimming.

The parts of the fructification are perfectly defended; a calyx almost double, two large wings as a mantle, two small ones forming a vault, supported by a large petal.

The yellow anthers of the stamina, whose filaments are scarcely to be distinguished, are extremely close one to the other. The stigma of the pistil surmounts the little ring, while the Ovary swells and ripens its seeds.

You will be able, I hope, my friend, to verify the exactness of this description, though it is far from being easy. [To be continued.]

FINE ARTS.

ANNUAL EXHIBITION AT SOMERSET-HOUSE.

[Continued from Page 216.]

No. 168, Portrait of Sir A. Wellesley, by J. by the hat, which is thrown over the thigh, sinks

Hoppner, R. A.

THIS Picture, in the Portrait line, has the first claim upon our attention, as, with respect to composition, it has more of historical pretension than any other portrait of the present Exhibition. In regard to the resemblance which this picture bears to Sir A. Wellesley, as we have not the honour of knowing him, we are incompetent to decide upon it; but as our principal object is the || art, and the merit of the work, as distinguished from the likeness, it will be no impediment in our examination.

The head is well drawn, and the features are marked with precision; the colouring is good; and the light and shadow agreeably distributed, when we reflect that the subject is a Portrait. This head, upon the whole, must be classed amongst Mr. Hoppner's best productions; and we lament that the Artist has not bestowed an equal attention upon the other parts of his figure; as the right leg and thigh, upon which the figure rests, appear absolutely detached from it, and making no part of it. The unfortunate shade, occasioned

it so much in the back ground, that we were at a loss, upon the first view, to know what was become of the leg. The arm, and the hand holding the hat, which are advanced, are not happy in the fore-shortenings; the hand, although cased in a glove, should have exhibited the lengths of the fingers, in order to have given the proportions of the hand in the same respect as if the glove had been off; but, instead of that justness of propor tion, we find the division between the fingers running nearly into the middle of the back of the hand. The extended left arm, likewise forming somewhat of a parallel with the right, has reduced the artist to the necessity of covering it with an unnatural shadow, in order to hide the inaccuracy of the drawing and the fore-shortening, which gives rise to the unpleasant conjecture, that being unable to make out those parts himself, he was resolved that nobody else should. It may, perhaps, be offered in extenuation, and indeed it frequently has been urged as a palliative, that a practice of this kind has its source in taste and refinement.-We absolutely and unequivo

cally demur to the plea.-We are ready to join issue upon it; we affirm that it can never be ad mitted by any man who understands the principles and purity of the art.-In groupes, perhaps, the retiring figures may be thus sported with; here the fancy may bask in the heat of its own sanguineness, and enjoy, unarraigned, its own eccentricities; but in the principal, prominent, and decided figure, concei's of this kind must ever be protested against; for, in perfect art, nothing should be introduced to destroy the simplicity and purity of its forms. We have done with Sir Arthur; but we must observe, that the Horse which accompanies the portrait, in the act of rising on his hinder legs, should have been so planted upon his feet as to have maintained a firmness of position. Here, however, the Artist has sheltered himself behind the practice which we have condemned as mean and artificial in his portraitthat of hiding the feet altogether, in order, as it were, to screen from detection his incompetency to accurate drawing. The throwing forward of the fore-feet, with the neck and head turned in an opposite direction gives a kind of sprawling appearance to the movements of the Horse, which nowise correspond with the tranquillity in which the scene of the portrait is cast.-This, too, may be called spirit; but it is not truth. If this Artist would pay more attention to delineation, and less to the little meretriciousness and tricks of art, we should be inclined to assign him a higher station than we can now admit him to occupy, or any other Artist, who does not make drawing the basis of his profession in its highest excellence.

| tained; but, at a distance, the body becomes lost, and confounded with the back ground. The general effect is thus impaired, and rendered too indistinct, when the portrait is surveyed at a distance.

No. 180, Fall of the Rhine at Shathausen, by J. M. W. Turner, R. A.

The prospect of a great river, tumbling from a precipice, is a subject that may properly rank under the class of the awful and terrible sublime; and from what we know of the general powers of this Artist, and from what we have collected in his works, we should have expected that he would have treated it under this class, and have given to his composition that character, so tremendous and awful, which the natural majesty of the subject would seem to demand; but what do we find? We lament to say it—we find nothing of great conception or masteily execution; the mind and the hand of the Artist are equally enslaved by an injudicious fondness for the little tricks and finesse of the art, in plastering his canvass with colour, laid on at random by the pallet knife instead of the graceful and modest pencil. Such, however, is too much the error of the rising school; for if this, or any other Artists should bring themselves to consider, that a practice of this sort is among the higher excellences of art, they may be assured, from that moment, that they will ever be sinking in their profession; for in this subject, as well as in all others which have nature for their foundation, in the delineation of the forms which compose the scene (be it what it may), whether it consists

No. 108, Portrait of the Right Hon. W. Pitt, by of rocks, trees, or mountains, of water or water

the same Artist.

In this picture, it is with satisfaction that we are enabled to compliment Mr. Hoppner upon his having maintained, with more than his usual precision, those essential points of the art, of which we have condemned his neglect in the portrait of Sir A. Wellesley. In this picture, we are ready to confess, the figure is well drawn in every part, and the whole approximates nearer to a studied portrait, than any which we have hitherto seen from the pencil of Mr. Hoppner. It maintains, upon high ground, this department of the art, and supports the reputation of the Painter in his peculiar line. If we have any thing to object to this portrait, it is, that the dark coat is somewhat too strongly blended with the darkness of the back ground, which leaves the head too much of a light spot between the two masses of light-that of the curtain above, and the Chancellor's Robes in the opposite corner below. This may not, perhaps, produce a bad effect upon a near inspection of the picture, as the forms of the body can then be correctly ascer

falls, the distinct drawings of those particular subjects should ever occupy the primary attention of the Artist. In this picture, however, we are sorry to observe, that they have been the least regarded. It is difficult to decide what is water, what is rock, or what is earth; or of what race of animals, of what class in the order of existence, the living objects are which compose the scene. Such we are sorry to observe, are the negligences into which this Artist is falling, in place of those beautiful and truly natural scenes which first awakened our attention to his genius.

It is from our high respect for the merits of the artist, and our concern for the dignity and prosperity of the arts, that we have been induced, in our examination of this picture, to be thus seemingly dogmatic and severe; but we rest upon the justness of the principle we have advanced. We appeal to Science for a confirmation of what we have said; and whilst we shall never be diverted from truth by the heresies of the little sectaries of the day, we shall never refrain

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