lar exercise, are not so well calculated | engaged with the greatest interest, to attain the object before us, as the and apparent delight, in their own inembracing every opportunity as it tellectual improvement. presents itself to our view. Whether straying in the meadows, or sitting in the parlour, the scenery by which we are surrounded, or the circumstances which are almost every moment occurring, will furnish occasions for imparting instruction, whilst we are, at the same time, administering pleasure. The parent, then, may become powerfully instrumental in producing those habits which shall hereafter secure to his child a niche in "Fame's proud temple that shines afar." The acquisition of knowledge upon specific subjects, should not be so much aimed at in this very early instruction which we are advocating, as the improving of those capabilities which will facilitate the after attempt at acquirement. Though it must not be forgotten, that while we are thus directing the Young idea how to shoot," we are infixing in the mind those fundamental principles which it is of the greatest importance they should ever retain. In improving the observing power, we are also improving the reflection, because, if the habit of accurate thought is engendered with regard to the one, it must also with regard to the other. It is, however, of the greatest importance to cultivate the first, because it will serve as a counterpoise to that state of abstraction into which the mind is sometimes thrown by metaphysical studies. The memory, so important to all, but especially to youth, in the acquisition of the elementary principles of knowledge, depends on the power of attention; therefore, in administering to its improvement, we are furnishing the mind with the capability of retaining those multitudinous stores with which a well-directed reading will enrich it. Let it not be supposed, that we have suggested an Utopian scheme, which can never meet with practical enforcement, because children at so tender an age cannot be brought under intellectual discipline; I appeal to the good effects which the system pursuing by the Infant School Society is daily producing. Children may be seen, (in their establishment in Quaker-street, Spitalfields,) of only two years of age, Let the individual who doubts it, read the memoirs of that prodigy of intellectual attainments, W. F. Durant, and especially the chapter in which his father traces the formation of his intellectual character: laying it down as an axiom, that his mental power would depend much on the manner of his education. His parents endeavoured to form those habits of steady application, which no strength of genius can ever counterbalance. How happily they succeeded, we might have inferred from his after progress. But his father informs us, that at the age of seven, the habit of regular application was completely formed, and as its natural consequence, from that time till the moment of his last short illness, mental exertion was his delight. Can any thing be more convincing than this fact? and will it yet be said, that seven, eight, or nine years of age is sufficiently early to commence any systematic attempt at intellectual improvement? It has been said, that it is useless to place children under restraint, with regard to the acquisition of knowledge, because, when they are older, they will see its importance, and of course soon acquire that which they will then consider essential. Here the principle laid down in the objection, namely, the necessity of the individual to be instructed feeling the value of that instruction, is acted upon. But when was it acted upon? At the age of seven years. And why was it acted upon? Because it was induced by early instruction. Aiming always at calling his intellectual powers into vigorous exercise, his curiosity was never repressed; but, on the contrary, every effort was made to awaken it. "At our table," says his amiable father, “and in our walks, nothing occurred, no single fact presented itself, for which he did not ask a reason. His efforts were sometimes successful; and when they were not so, we aided him in the inquiry. And thus, in our ordinary conversations, by the simplest experi ments and illustrations, he attained considerable knowledge, besides forming, what is of immense importance, the habitual endeavour of accounting for every thing he saw." worsted stockings, and large steel buckles, you would have a tolerable picture of the old man. In this interesting young man, we are furnished with an illustration of that powerful influence which an early education, conducted on philosophical principles, exercises upon the intellectual character. We rejoice that it is not an isolated one, and we earnestly hope that the numbers of them will go on increasing. The attention which the subject of education is now exciting, augurs favourably, and ere long, that which now forms the exception, may become the general rule. Surely, then, it is worth while for the parent to try the experiment, and aim at securing for his offspring that intellectual eminence which their natural capabilities, elicited by well-propensity, in ordinary cases, to scold directed instruction, will enable them to attain. ELIA. THE CAMERA OBSCURA. "So vanishes pleasure, alas! COWPER. My grandmother was, in many respects, his direct opposite; but I. would freely confess, that although she did not so much interest the fancies of my childhood, she was more valuable as a general character, and more intellectual as an individual, than he. She was somewhat tall, and rather thin; very particular; an excellent cook; remarkably honest and upright in all her dealings; and possessing a naturally strong and powerfal mind. The two principal faults which I can recollect in her, were, a her servants, and in extraordinary ones, to scold her busband. The town in which this couple lived, was distant about seven miles from that in which my parents resided ; and I was accustomed to visit it about three or four times a year. One of these times was always that on which the annual fair was held. Oh how I had used to delight myself in the anticipation of the pleasure which I should enjoy when the festivity apI REMEMBER with feelings of peculiar proached! Shows, and rattles, and pleasure, the sensations which I ex- gingerbread, and fruit, floated in wonperienced, when I was accustomed drous confusion before my imagina(as yet but a little boy) occasionally to tion !-and the enjoyment itself!visit my grandfather. About a month when I was taken by the hand, and ago, I went purposely to traverse the dragged through a motley group of house where the old man resided when gazing spectators!-when, on the outalive. I recalled incidents which had side of the various exhibitions, I saw long ago occurred; and with them, the flashy pictures, and the witty Mr. buried feelings which were in old time Merryman, and heard the sound of the my own; I seemed to live my child-heart-stirring music!-when, in the hood over again to enjoy all the boyish pleasures-to sigh at all the trifling griefs, and to be moved by all the once valuable anticipations with which, in past days, I had been con versant. - My grandfather, as I recollect him, was a little jolly man, with a very fresh, good-tempered face; he wore a white wig, and very frequently spectacles on his nose. His temper was open, and his disposition remarkably benevolent, although he was hasty, and soon angered; but his passion blew off directly. His laugh was always loud; his tale never lacking; and his ale ever good. His snuff-box was constantly passing round, and his pipe was one of his principal comforts; and if you could figure to yourself his brown coat, black breeches, white inside of some of them, I wondered at the elephant, and the lions, and the tigers, and, perhaps, most of all, at the monkeys!-when the little wooden horse, or cart, or gun, or drum, or the splendidly topped cane was grasped in my hands; and the confusion, and the laugh, and the noise, engaged my early attention! Oh! who could paint such things, now that childhood is over! There was a very old church in the town of which I am speaking, in the chancel of which were some antiquated stone images, and mouldering monuments, upon which I looked with wonder, veneration, and awe. There were tales attached to some of them, to which I have ofttimes listened with suppressed breath and glistening eye; and a brazen statue stood in a niche, which, I was informed, always stepped upon the floor when it heard the clock strike twelve! On the Sunday, at this church we regularly and punctually attended. Here I heard the deep-toned organ send forth its thundering harmony, and here my grandfather delighted to sing so lustily the hundredth psalm tune; I thought of it by day, and I dreamed about it by night; and I dream and think of it even now. The house in which this good old couple lived, was rather a small one, It was situated near the skirts of the town, remote from noise and bustle; and, in fact, was just suited to the wants and desires of the individuals who inhabited it. The front-door opened into what might be called the kitchen of the house. A clock stood on the wall opposite the door; and in the wall where the door was, there was a window garnished with shrubs, among which the red and white roses cut a conspicuous figure. The fireplace was very large, and the mantlepiece shone brilliantly with burnished brass candlesticks, snuffers, snufferpans, &c. On the side of the room fronting the fire-place, there was an oaken table with folding leaves, resting on which, and sloping up to the slapdashed wall, four or five tea-trays were placed. A mahogany cupboard was fixed in one corner, and a pantry in the other; and near the fire stood a chair, distinguished from the rest by a cushion being placed upon it: this was my grandfather's. Here we had used to have dinner provided; here I have seen the good roast-beef and plum-pudding, and the duck and green-peas smoking hot; and here the apples, and pears, and nuts, and oranges, flourished in unlimited profusion when dinner was over; and here the old man smoked his pipe and drank his ale; which latter beverage he, and all others who preferred it to wine, drank from long taper glasses, which, if the feet were knocked off, and the top placed downwards, would resemble so many church steeples. The parlour was a small room, with a casement window looking into the little yard, (of which more anon.) A Canary bird hung close by the window, and about thirty books were piled on shelves on the same side of the apartment; a mahogany table stood in the centre of the room; and hair-bottomed chairs occupied each its destined place; and the walls were ornamented with a series of prints, descriptive of the story of the prodigal son, all the characters of which were dressed with wigs and cocked hats, and in the costume of George I.'s reign. Here the evenings were always spent. In winter, the white curtains were dropped down over the window, the mould-candles were lighted, and the tale told, or the story read. In summer, the setting sun, with golden glory streamed through the window, and cast the shadow of it on the opposite wall. And, on Sundays, here we used to read long chapters from the Bible, verse by verse, and at this ceremony my grandfather used a large folio one, with plates, to see which, was one of my principal delights. Close by was the little yard, where the old man, before breakfast, and after tea, smoked his pipe, sitting on an old oaken bench, shaded from the evening sun; where I wheeled my little barrow up and down, or played at ball, or any thing else I pleased,marbles, or whip-top, or, when my cousins were there, jack-upon-a-mopstick, or leap-frog, or tick. There have I been scolded for taking the mop from the nail on which it hung. There have I pulled the spiggot from the water-tap, and let the water squirt all about. There have I leaped, and jumped, and skipped, and shouted thoughtlessly and carelessly; and there, to this day, stands the very bench on which my grandfather sat and smoked. But he is gone,-and never have I met with one, who, by such simple means, could give me such pleasure as he did, or would draw me by such kindness to himself. There was a garden (rather a large one) about four hundred yards from the house, to which the hearty old pilgrim was accustomed to walk every morning before dinner, and, in the summer, frequently before supper also. I have walked with him many a time, carrying a basket in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other; and when there, I have stuffed myself with gooseberries, or strawberries, or raspberries, till I was fairly sick; and have gathered posies of flowers nearly as big as myself. There was a fine nuttree, into which I climbed, whenever ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF I could get permission to pluck the nuts, and near it stood a beautiful green shady arbour, about which climbed the honeysuckle and eglan-YE flow'ry lawns, where first my love reclined, tine; and in which the gardening im- Where oft her joyous laugh pursued the wind plements were kept; and where stood Ye verdant meads, by youthful gambols grac'd, Whose banks the bliss-pursuing footsteps a pitcher of fresh water, in which we trac'd; washed our hands before returning home; and there was also a small juniper tree, cut into a fantastic and anomalous shape, meant to represent some animal, but like nothing either in heaven above, or the earth beneath, or the water under the earth. I thought it one of the most wonderful and curious pieces of workmanship that was formed either naturally or artificially. I have alluded before to the sunsetting, it is a favourite scene. remember, as my grandfather turned the key of the garden-door, when we returned home at night, (he was generally guided by sunset,) I have looked around me, and seen the round orb sink redly, and beautifully streaking the sky with crimson and purple, as it hid its head under the western horizon. I really am sometimes tempted to think, that the sun does not set so beautifully, or the summer warm the blood so much, or the flowers smell so sweet, or the fruit taste so nice, as once was the case. Whether it be so or not, I am surely strangely altered; all these simple and innocent longpast scenes, live only like the visionary creations of a dream that has fled away. But my grandfather is gone into eternity, and I am hastily following him to regions where mutability shall for ever remain unknown. There may the fruits and flowers of Paradise for ever flourish ! (To be continued.) POETRY. SONNET. ST. LUKE, CHAPTER IV. He stood within the Temple-on his brow To preach the gospel to the poor-and led O words of love and mercy! still shall rest, Ob, hear! soft scene of my impassion'd lays, mien The timid virgin's look enrich'd the green; breast, Enrich'd my joys, and lull'd my fears to rest; But when to riper years we older grew, tears, before; Still in calm moments, as I look'd around Adorn'd her mind, and all her beauties grac'd, night; How soon such scenes may awful fate o'ercloud, ceive, Whose gradual dark approach I scarce believe, I rouse as from a cloud-envelop'd dream, My heart, my soul, in wild confusion seem.Bat, ah! the vision's fled!-the dream is past! Death's visage chill, my brightest prospects blast. Sweet rapturous scenes now flit before mine eyes, And as I love-sick gaze, the vision flies- may, Thro' the tall forest's darkest gloom I stray; There slow the streamlet winds amongst the trees, And feather'd songsters melodize the breeze. Oh, Marlay grove! thou scene of sweet delight, Why do thy sunny glades seem dull as night? There love, with joyous laugh, pursued the wind, Or sunk in odorous bower, to rest reclin'd. The roses bloom'd, but soon their beauty sank, Dead are the flowrets on thy mossy bank; Heart-piercing sight,-where yonder dell ap pears, Was once a scene of bliss-but now, of tears; That sooth'd my breast, and charm'd my soul so oft? Where are the looks my youthful suit denied, Forbade the lover, when the cousin sighed? Or where those tresses, that in ringlets flow'd, Those dimpled cheeks, where timid blushes glow'd? Lost, lost! for ever lost! from me she's fled, Where pare affection liv'd in transports sweet; Prince of dismay, unsparing tyrant, Death, Thou ruthless regent of the mortal's breath, Thy dread appeal arrests with cold amaze, Appals the Christian, and the sinner slays. Thro' mould'ring shades, along the charnel glides, The flitting phantom's form, with goblin strides, Relentless strikes with sure but deadly aim, And leaves my waking joys a transitory dream. A FRAGMENT. Since first I saw ber, years had roll'd along. I visited the spot, and hop'd to see Some smiling cherubs, lovely as herself, Lisping their Maker's praise on bended knee, Taught by their mother :-but,-the tale of wo!I learnt she was no more!-the turf was green Upon her grave! I heard her story:-she had loved and trusted Been betray'd-deserted :-then the world Closed on her lovely form :-she wildly rush'd Was nought to her,—and the billowy wave Into the presence of a pardoning God!— I mark'd the story, and I sought her grave; And silently there mused on what she was, When first I knew her in the dawn of life :Ye beings of the earth, ye sons of lust; But man had made the ruin!-Mark ber grave Mayhap, there will a day arrive at last, And say, is this your boast?--Ye never think, When ye shall moulder in the same damp earth Your victims lie in,-that the same white throne Shall see you stand together,—that one judge Oh, think!-and tremble for your doom! Will then award your everlasting fate! INVOCATION TO HOPE. HOPE, blest grace, thou heav'nly prize, To solace life with thy sweet smile; Thou wast commission'd from the skies, Man's doubts and sorrows to beguile. Sweet harbinger of endless rest, Thy mission to my soul disclose; Reign thou triumphant in my breast, My passions calm, my mind compose. Oh, thou smiling grace of heav'n, L. Appear with thy celestial train; Till number'd with the happy dead, EDMOND DYER. |