very spirited exertions on this subject during the ministry of M. De Cazes, and it is only doing common justice to the ex-minister to state, that his conduct was an exception to that which has been observed by his predecessors and successors. Unfortunately, how ever, for the interests of humanity, M. De Cazes quitted the ministry just as he was about to propose an alteration in the French law of burials. The memorial presented by Dr. Macnab to the French ministry is a most interesting production, and we have been favoured with a perusal of the Doctor's manuscript, from which we make a few extracts: "Individuals of whatever rank," says the Doctor," from crowned heads to the labourers in the fields, are equally victims to this unnatural customthe rich and the poor-the child newly from the womb-the youth in the flower of life, and the favourites of the creation, the fair sex, are alike exposed to the danger of perpetual death from premature interment." "In every age and country history has furnished numerous instances of individuals, who, in apparent death, have been preserved by accidental causes from premature interment. The short period of twenty-four hours, allowed by the existing laws of France for the purpose of ascertaining the real or apparent death of individuals, is far too short. There are many cases in which the signs of apparent death are witnessed, and which cannot be determined for days after they have been manifested. I could enumerate diseases in which such signs are common." Doctor Macnab then proceeds, in illustration of his position, to relate among others the following: "The danger to which the elegant Lady Russell was exposed is too well known, both in France and in England, to require details. She remained seven days and nights without any sign of life, and her interment was delayed only on account of the violent grief which Lord Russell experienced at the idea of being separated from a beloved wife. On the eighth day, as the parish bells were tolling for church, Lady Russell suddenly raised her head, and to the amazement and indescribable joy of her husband, told him to get ready to accompany her to church. Her recovery was rapid and complete, and she lived many years afterwards to render her Lord the father of a family." If," says the author, "Lady Russell had been in France, under the existing law, she would have been buried alive." The second instance is related by the celebrated Odier of Geneva, in the following words :-"I knew a girl, twenty-five years old, named Eliza Roy, who narrowly escaped being buried alive. She lived at a distance of two leagues from Geneva. For some years she had been subject to nervous attacks, which frequently deprived her of every appearance of life; but, after the lapse of a few hours, she would recover and resume her occupations as if nothing had happened. On one occasion, however, the suspension of her faculties was so protracted, that her friends called in a medical man of the neighbourhood, who pronounced her dead. She was then sewn up in a close shroud, according to the barbarous custom of the country, and laid upon the bedstead. Amongst those who called to condole with the parents was a particular friend of the supposed deceased, of her own age. The young woman, anxious to take a last look at her friend, unripped the shroud and imprinted a kiss upon her cheek. Whilst she was kissing her, she fancied that she felt her breathe. She repeated her caresses; and being shortly assured of the fact of her friend not being dead, she applied her mouth to that of the girl, and in a short time the latter was restored to life, and able to dress herself." Dr. Crichton, physician to the Grand Duke Nicholas, brother to the Emperor of Russia, relates a fact from his own experience which powerfully supports the arguments used by Dr. Macnab. "A young girl," says Dr. Crichton, "in the service of the Princess of who had for some time kept her bed with a nervous affection, at length to all appearance was deprived of life. Her face had all the character of death -her body was perfectly cold, and every other symptom of death was manifested. She was removed into another room, and placed in a coffin. On the day fixed for her funeral, hymns, according to the custom of the country, were sung before the door; but at the very moment when they were going to nail down the coffin, a perspiration was seen upon her skin, and in a few minutes it was succeeded by a convulsive motion in the hands and feet. In a few moments she opened her eyes, and uttered a piercing scream. The faculty were instantly called in, and in the space of a few days her health was com O, when I reach'd my true love's door, And seem'd in slumber sweet. pletely re-established. The account which she gave of her situation is extremely curious. She said that she appeared to dream that she was dead, but that she was sensible to every thing that was passing round her, and distinctly heard her friends bewailing her death; she felt them envelope her in the shroud, and place her in the coffin. This sensation gave her extreme agony, and she attempted to speak, but her soul was unable to act upon her body. She describes her sensations as very contradictory, as if she was and was not in her body at one and the same instant. She attempted in vain to move her arms, to open her eyes, or to speak. The agony of her mind was at its height when she heard the funeral hymn, and found that they were about to nail down the lid of the coffin. The horror of being buried alive gave a new im- THE MERCHANT OF BALSORA; pulse to her mind, which resumed its power over its corporeal organization, and produced the effects which excited the notice of those who were about to convey her to a premature grave."European Magazine. EYAM BANKS. On Eyam banks the grass is green; With whiter heads than snow. In gentle Eyam's vale. The harvest moon rode high; "O, did they die by slow disease? Flow'd ancle-deep in blood- Where first the primrose peeps, The Rabelist. No. XIX. OR, THE MAGIC RING. Had a wise man owned this same ring, he would no more have thought himself justifiable in criminality, than if he owned it not. Many centuries ago, in the city of Balsora, there dwelt an honest and industrious tradesman, named Bonbec. He had a son called Conloffe, whom he had educated with the greatest tenderness and to the utmost of his means. As the young man grew up, his progress rewarded his father's exertion; and his amiable disposition relieved the old merchant's parental anxiety. Bonbec had amassed a sum sufficiently large to support his family with credit; and to enable him to leave his son the means of acquiring wealth and consequence. Conloffe was given to retirement and reflection; in his solitary moments he mused on the actions of men, as he saw them displayed in the course of his daily avocations. He beheld the merchants defraud each other, whenever they could do it undetected; the Cadi was not inaccessible to corruption; and the Caliph himself, the Prophet's vicegerent, was surrounded by false and interested courtiers, whose representations blinded the eye and closed the ear of the monarch; whose machinations polluted the fountains of justice. O holy Mahomet! he would exclaim-if thy servant had but an atom of thy power and a ray of thy intelligence, how would he expose these hypocritical believers! About this time, a caravan arrived at Balsora. They had been absent two years from the city; during which period, they had taken an extensive circuit in their journey to and from Mecca, and had met many other companies traversing the desart. They brought with them the pearls, the perfumes, and the silks of Arabia, the delicate tissues of Cashmere, and the glittering treasures of Ormus. Many philosophers were in their company, travelling to observe mankind, and enrich their own country with the observations which they gleaned in the regions they visited. Conloffe was engaged for several days, in exchanging and trafficing with these merchants. In the course of his negociations, his attention was frequently arrested by a company of Dervishes who arrived with the caravan and conversed in the bazar on the state of the city and of others which they had seen. Conloffe fancied that one of their number took particular notice of him. This was a venerable old man, whose white hairs proclaimed him of an extended age; but his complexion had not lost its bloom. His eyes were grey, and flashed with intelligence. He leaned on his staff and surveyed the lively tumult around him, with the air of one who had seen mankind, in all their different aspects and attitudes. Conloffe was one day surprised by the Dervishes advancing towards him. The old man measured the youth with a steady glance, and bade, him follow. Conloffe bowed and obeyed in silence. The Dervish trod with a firm and quick step, through the streets and suburbs of the city. They came at length to a plain, at the extremity of which they descended into a deep, green valley. Here grew a solitary gigantic palm, at the foot of which murmured a clear and narrow streamlet. The Dervish seated himself there, and thus addressed his eager companion-"On this spot, a century ago, I was born. It is now, what it then was; while revolutions have shaken empires, and levelled the mightiest cities. From this valley I shall never go more. Azrael has received his commission; I hear the rustling of his pinions. Of all the discoveries of a life, spent in examining the nature of men, genii and angels, and exploring the mysteries of nature, this ring on my finger is the most valuable and dangerous. It has the power of rendering its owner invisible, by turning the diamond towards the palm of the hand. Providence has thrown you in my path; you were destined from the beginning of time to inherit this magic legacy, by which you may do much good, or bring ruin on yourself and others, as you are guided by prudence, or hurried away by rashness or passion. You will find, O my son! that you have desires, which have hitherto been buried within you, as that jewel was in the flaming centre of earth, before I descended into the tremendous cavern from whence it was torn. Be cautious and discreet. And now my hour is come. Take this bequest; inter me beneath the shadow of this palm, where my mother felt for me the pains of woman. There in its last tenement, whether my soul is destined to reanimate another mass, or shall pass into the world of spirits, and the communion of the prophet, there will lie all that then is left, of the wisdom and fame of the Dervish Atalmulc." The old man leaned back against the palm, closed his eyelids and uttered no other sound. Conloffe laid his hand upon his heart; but it had ceased to beat. With awful reverence, he dug up the earth from around the foot of the palm, wrapped the Dervish in his long vestments, and laid him in the grave he had chosen. Having replaced the sod, be marked the situation of the valley, and retraced his steps towards the city. The sun threw his last golden beam upon the plain, as the eyes of Atalmulc closed in their eternal sleep. As Conloffe traversed the plain, the uncertain shadows fell thicker around him. He descried two men at a distance, moving with cautious steps, and apparently bearing a burden. He determined to try the virtue of his ring, turned the jewel inwards, and advanced towards them. Their conduct showed that they did not observe him, and he continued to watch their movements. He now perceived that they were slaves, and were supporting a chest, which they carried with extreme carefulness. When they arrived at the centre of the plain, they cast their eyes round with much anxiety; perceiving no object near them, they commenced turning up the sand, and soon came to an iron door. This they raised, and having struck a light, descended, concealing their taper. Conloffe followed them. He saw nothing but a small square excavation, in which the two slaves deposited their chest, and immediately quitted the place and closed the earth over the vault. Conloffe secured the materials with which they had lit their taper; he watched them until their forms were lost in darkness, and prepared to reexamine the place. "Innocence," said he, loves not all this mystery; there is something wrong in this business, and Allah wills that I should detect it." Making these reflections he again entered the subterranean chamber; he broke open the box with much difficulty, and his sight was dazzled with the splendor of jewels-larger and more brilliant than any he ever before had beheld. His eye sparkled with transport as he gazed on the treasure before him. "It were," said he, "a dowry fit for the daughter of the great Caliph, or his Queen Zodiede." But he checked his exultations; for conscience suggested that he had no right to what he saw. It was the property of another, which "And yet, he was anxious to secure. exclaimed he, "why this anxiety, if it was gained by honest industry? Noit is probably the wages of crime; it was stolen from some unfortunate merchant, or wrung by the withered fingers of avarice, or the iron grasp of tyranny, from starving misery, or hopeless ser. vitude." He gazed again on the treasure; and seizing the precious box, quitted the chamber, replaced the earth, and proceeded to the city. As he lingered on the verge of the plain, conscience again told him, that, by whatever means the jewels were obtained, he had no more right in them than any other man, and was guilty of a crime at least as great as their possessors. His first impulse was to return; but, thought he, robbers are now prowling; and though unseen myself, I cannot open the I will keep cave without observation. this treasure, as a sacred depo it, until I discover the true owner. Thus silencing the deep voice within him, he regained his home unnoticed, and secured his prize in a private apartment. He then entered the streets in search of farther adventures. (To be concluded in our next.) PETER PINDARICS; OR, JOE MILLER VERSIFIED. No. V. HODGE AND THE FIDDLER. A country swain one evening read (To wile away the hours) A book relating Orpheus' deeds, Performed by music's pow'rs. Th' astonish'd bumpkin roll'd his eyes, And scratched his flaming head; His mouth op'd wide, with wonder struck, Still as the book he read. When finish'd quite, to bed he goes, Revolves each sentence o'er ; At length bethinks him to cut down With glee Hodge Homespun hails the thought, And thinks it monst'rous fine; Exclaims it shall be done at morn With loss of little time." "If oaks to music's charms will stoop, As I'll to-morrow prove, Its kind assistance it shall lend In felling yonder grove." Next morn he took, soon as 'twas light, And when the trees old Boreas shook, But play'd and scrap'd in vain, THE ANCIENT DRAMA. The first comedy was acted at Athens,: on a scaffold, by Saffarian and Dolon, 562 years before Christ; those of Terence were first performed 154 years before Christ; the first in England was in the year 1551. Tragedy was first acted at Athens in a waggon, 535 years before Christ, by Thespis, a native of Icaria, a town of Attica, in Greece, in whose time tragedy was carried on by a set of musicians and dancers, who, as they danced, sung bymns to the praise of Bacchus; and that the musicians and dancers might have time to rest, and that the people should have some new diversion, introduced an actor, who, between every two songs, repeated some discourse on a tragical subject. This actor's discourse was called the episode. Thespis also furnished satyr with actors, and Horace says he brought forth his satyrs in an uncovered chariot, where they rehearsed their poems, their faces being daubed with dregs of wine. or, according to Suidas, painted with ceruse and vermillion, to represent the satyrs, who are represented with a red and high coloured visage. The episode meeting with a kind reception amongst the people, Eschylus introduced two aetors, and Sophocles added a third, which brought tragedy into its full perfection. walkersend Thomas Kovor "I want to see Mrs. Jago's handwriting, that I may judge of her temper."-SHENSTONE. The opinion that the character of individuals may be discovered by their writing, has had numerous advocates from the time of Shenstone, who wished to see Mrs. Jago's hand-writing, in order that he might judge of her temper, down to the ingenious Mr. D'Israeli, who says, "the vital principle must be true, that the hand-writing bears an analogy to the character of the writer, as all voluntary actions are characteristic of the individual." This mode of judging of the character of persons, can, however, only have any reality when the pen, acting without constraint, may become an instrument, guided by and indicative of the natural dispositions. But regulated as the pen now is, too often by a mechanical process, which the present race of writing masters seems to have contrived, for their own convenience, a whole school exhibits a similar hand-writing; the pupils are forced into their automatic motions as if acted on by the pressure of a steam engine. A bevy of beauties will now write such fac-similes of each other, that in a heap of letters presented to the most sharp-sighted lover, to select that of his mistress, though like Bassanio among the caskets, his happiness should be risked on the choice-he would despair of fixing on the right one, all appearing to have come from the same rolling press. Whether nature would prompt every individual to have a distinct sort of writing, as she has given a different countenance, voice, and manner, we will not pretend to determine, though several persons, including Lavater and General Paoli, as well as Shenstone and Mr. D'Israeli, seem to have been of that opinion. General Paoli, once told Mr. Northcote that he had decided on the character and disposition of a man from his letters and the handwriting. But leaving these speculations, which are at least but fanciful, it is sufficient for our purpose that there is a natural curiosity inherent iu most minds, to see the hand-writing of individuals who have been distinguished by their rank, talents, virtues, or fortunes. It is in order to gratify this general feeling, that we propose to give occasionally a few autographs of the most eminent characters, with anecdotes, and brief biographical notices of the writers. We have selected for our present Number, fac-similes of the hand-writing of three of the most distinguished statesmen of the present age, and three of the first living poets, all accurately copied from the originals. 1. RIGHT HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX. This gentleman, who held a deservedly high rank in the Senate, on account of his eloquence and his public virtues, and was for some time one of the Principal Secretaries of State, was born on the 13th of January, 1748, and died on the 13th of September, 1806. As we have so recently given a Memoir of Mr. Fox, with a spirited engraving of the tomb, erected to his memory in |