minister and the earth, and said to him, that the astrologer had now no more the happiness of seeing the sun, and consequently an eclipse of the sun was now taking place on the earth; but I could not represent a total eclipse, because the astrologer was a little too corpulent. The sun laughed, and the earth murmured. Thus it is impossible to please every body. After the two gentlemen had played such flattering parts, they became proud, and affirmed that every thing seen in the heavens was only a meteor, because Jupiter, Saturn, and Venus, were the only stars which they recognized as bodies, and these, they said, were far more happy than our earth, as they were much nearer the sun than we, and were therefore much warmer. "With respect to Venus," said I, “you are right, she is much nearer to the sun than we are, or else we could not see her pass over the sun once every hundred years; but with respect to Jupiter and Saturn, they are much further from the sun than we are, and can therefore never be seen between the sun and us. The astrologer, was already afraid that I might begin again the ceremony of an eclipse, agreed to every thing, and then opened in his book a large leaf, on which was painted a great he-goat with hieroglyphics: after he had looked at it several times with a pleased countenance, he asked me very seriously, what was, according to our opinion, behind the stars?-I told him that our astronomers were not agreed; but most probably behind the last stars which we could discover, there were other stars without end, and "if there were an end, this end was joined to a beginning, which however was without an end." Here the goat fell out of his hand; he laughed with an air of triumph and wisdom, and observed, that such things were too difficult for the Europeans. He picked up his great book much pleased, and said, smiling, still turning over the leaves, "We will now say no more on this subject!" Who could be more pleased than I, for "without beginning and without end" was, I am sure, more unintelligible to me than to him. He laid his hand on a page which was full of dots, and a million of little devils seemed to be painted between them; he asked, "What is wind?" I began an explanation of the more subtile and denser strata of air, which being more or less warmed by the sun in different places, might be put into a kind of undulation, which would probably produce wind, which most likely arose only in our atmosphere, because farther off there was a thinner air which we called æther, and "What nonsense you talk," cried he aloud; "that is the way of the Europeans, they always puzzle themselves about causes and reasons, and thus lose sight of the subject itself.-Wind, said he, is a substance which exists and acts in and for itself, and fills up all the space which is between all visible and invisible bodies: or else how could comets arise? These are the true purifiers of the wind; they fly about and burn every thing which might lessen or destroy the power of the wind, for the wind is a beneficial gift of God!" The last opinion in the hot climate of Persia, where without the wind all the inhabitants must perish, is very natural. In the meantime he had himself tumbled over the leaves of his book like the wind, and at last dwelt with pleasure upon a page upon which were painted a number of globes, and at the top a hideous figure." What do you think of the motions of the bodies? Does the sun stand still, or does it move?" "It stands still," answered I. "There we have it! Do not you know the effects of the power of nature, which is singular in its kind? Nature gives to every thing only one power, never two at once, otherwise she would be unjust, and that she cannot be; if this power has once acted, nothing is able to increase or lessen its action, and much less to add a second to it. If you suppose that the earth turns round its axis, that is already one power; it cannot consequently turn at the same time round the sun; but if you suppose that the sun revolves round the earth, then the earth does not turn round its axis.""In this manner," said I, " Nature has given to the earth the power of standing still!""Right; that is what we Persians affirm. You affirm the same of the sun, and are wrong. Every thing is created for the pleasure of man and the Schach; we are with the earth in the centre look gratefully on." Upon this he shut his book, and said, "That these matters were of a sublime nature, and it was proper to spare the understanding for a future opportunity; meanwhile he would speak of things of less puzzling import, as, for example, of the mathematics." Now he showed me how to measure distances beyond a river, how to measure the elevation of remote objects, &c. upon which the minister said, that the Schach had once given him such a commission, which he executed wonderfully. He seemed very much surprised on hearing that in Europe the little boys began geometry with such operations. Upon this I began to demonstrate a trigonometrical problem, but this the astrologer did not comprehend, and seemed in general to have no idea of Logarithms. At the end I was obliged to relate to the admiring company various particulars of my voyage round the world, of which two things seemed quite impossible to them; first, that I had been once their antipode, and that there existed finer countries in the world than Persia ! The minister thanked me for the agree Captain Moritz Von Kotzebue accompanied Captain Krusenstern in his voyage round the world.-Ep. able conversation, ordered refreshments to be presented, begged that I would often visit him, and we parted from the corpulent astrologer as good friends. ANECDOTE OF A SPANISH WIDOW. One day (said a foreigner of distinction) while I was on a visit to her excellency the beautiful and charming Duchess de Sainte P, Madame de S, the widow of an officer of the Walloon guards, came with a petition that she might be admitted by her Grace to the honour of an audience. The Duchess, on receiving this message, appeared to hesitate on the answer she should return, which induced me to request that I might be no impediment to her granting the interview solicited; on which an assent was immediately given, and soon after the lady appeared, dressed in the deepest mourning, and veiled from head to foot. This shade, however, she raised as (with an air of inconsolable grief) she approached the Duchess, and informed her that she had within a few days experienced the greatest of misfortunes in the loss of the best of husbands; adding, while a torrent of tears bathed her face, "as you must be sensible, Madame, nothing can be more deplorable than the situation of a poor officer's widow, since the queen and the Duke of Ripperda have persuaded the king to suppress their pensions. I am actually in danger of wanting bread, unless your excellency will take compassion on me, and relieve my distresses by marrying me to the lieutenant-colonel of the regiment." This petition was closed with sobs and sighs. "I pity you most sincerely," replied the Duchess, "but I am quite at a loss to understand by what means I can effect your wishes, and oblige the lieutenant-colonel to accept the hand you are so willing to bestow on him." "By the easiest in the world, Madam," eagerly returned the widow, "you have only to order the Marquis de Spinola, inspector-general, to grant me a formal permission to marry the lieutenant-colonel." The Duchess then inquired whether any attachment subsisted between her and the officer with whom she wished to be united. "Ah! Madame," exclaimed the petitioner, with great animation, "I have long entertained for him a great affection, and I have no reason to doubt that he returns it, and will readily consent to be united to me when he knows it was my husband's wish, who knew of my partiality, that I should marry his friend." It was impossible for the Duchess to preserve her gravity at this artless avowal of the fair mourner's plans and feelings; but, quickly softening her laugh into a smile, she graciously assured Madame de S of her willingness to serve her; but feeling, she added, that the speaking to the inspector general on the subject of the widow's wishes would come with more propriety from her husband than from herself, she would im. mediately repair to his excellency, and procure permission for her introduction to him, when she might plead her own cause, which her eloquence could not fail to give due effect. For this purpose her Grace quit the room. As the Duke de Sante P- was at this time confined with the gout, Madame was pleased at having an opportunity of affording him a little amusement at the expense of the widow; compensating, however, for so doing, by first obtaining a promise from her husband, that he would embrace her cause. Having prepared her lord for the smiles, and tears, and melancholy graces of the afflicted relict, the Duchess returned to conduct her to his excellency, who had with him, when Madame de S entered, the minister at war, and another nobleman of the court. The widow, after gracefully bending to the Duke, repeated, with still stronger expressions of grief and agitation, the request which she had before addressed to her Grace. Various questions ensued on the part of the Duke, the answers to which were so well seconded by the fine bedewed eyes of the widow, that, turning to the minister of war, he requested, as a favour to himself, that he would forward her wishes The minister, with great goodness, assured the petitioner he would instantly dispatch the required order to the Marquis de Spinola, and was taking his leave to perform this promise, when that nobleman most opportunely arrived to inquire after his excel, lency's health. The inspector-general was well acquainted with Madame de Sbut not suspecting the business which had brought her to the Duke's, accosted her with compliments of condolence on the irreparable loss she had so recently sustained, an officer for whom he expressed the highest esteem. This address again roused all her distressed feelings, and she poured them forth with such lively expression of sorrow that the Marquis de Spinola, who was not, like the other spectators, in the secret of her real feelings, was quite overpow ered by his own, till the minister of war, seeing calm succeeding to this last burst of lamentation, thus addressed the sympa thising inspector:-"The dead husband, Monsieur, is no longer in question; on the contrary, the subject under consideration is the procuring a living one, through whom the disconsolate widow may be restored to happiness and comfort. To you she looks for effecting this change in her present forlorn situation; and for this purpose solicits your permission that she may marry the lieutenant-colonel of the regiment to which her deceased husband belonged when living." The Marquis de Spinola replied, "If the lieutenant-colonel solicits my consent, far be it from me to throw impediments in the 1 way of Madame's finding consolation for the death of one husband, in the arms of another." The widow then hastily departed, promising to return speedily-which she did, and, with a gay yet modest air, presented the Marquis de Spinola a letter from the lieutenant-colonel; on reading which, that nobleman courteously praised the taste shown by the writer in his choice of so amiable a lady, and at the same time complimented her on her dexterity in making an event which threatened to degrade her, the means of her elevation; with which compliment the fair petitioner appeared highly gratified. It was, indeed, a master-stroke on her part, in the success of which she had great reason to triumph. Nor did she attempt to conceal the pride and pleasure with which she glowed, but with much animation thanked all present for the good for tune they had joined in procuring her, and departed with a countenance from whence all traces of grief had vanished. When the widow had retired, the whole party indulged in a hearty laugh, and some free animadversions on her sudden transitions from sorrow to joy. The Duchess compared her to the Ephesian matron; but the gentlemen were more indulgent, and the Marquis de Spinola, in particular, endeavoured to soften the indecorum of her conduct, by relating many instances of the correctness and amiableness with which she had performed all the duties of a wife. The Duchess could not resist relating this adventure to the Queen of Spain, which created in her majesty a curiosity to see the principal actress in it, and the widow was accordingly introduced. On this occasion, the Queen took a malicious pleasure in questioning her respecting her deceased husband, and witnessing her theatrical display of extravagant grief. Singular description of the Hospital for the Insane at Aversa, in the kingdon of Naples; extracted from the unpublished Journal of a Tour made in the year 1817, in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. I had heard this establishment spoken of with praise; but being accustomed to meet with exaggeration in the good as well as in the evil, which travellers relate of the countries they have visited, I resolved to see the place myself. At eight o'clock in the morning I went to Aversa. After having traversed a short path, we discovered this modest edifice in the midst of the most smiling country. The bell called the people of the neighbourhood to mass, which is daily attended by the unhappy patients in the hospital. The holy ceremonies were just beginning as we entered. A part of the church was filled with people from the town and neighbourhood. In the choir and the side seats there were men of all ages and conditions, almost all dressed in a uniform manner.; in the middle were some young grenadiers; and in the front, a numerous military orchestra made the sacred roof reecho with the most melodious sounds.Every thing inspired meditation and devotion. My guide said to me, "Those whom you see silent and devout at the foot of the altar-those who are in military uniform, and who pay homage with their arms to the God of armies-those who make the temple resound with their harmonious concert, are so many victims to that dreadful malady which deprives man of the use of his reason: even he whom you see penetrated with respect and fear, assisting the priest in the expiatory sacrifice, is himself one of those unfortunate beings." It is not easy to express the surprise I felt, and the emotion excited in my mind by this terrible and delicious contrast of the wretchedness and the grandeur of the human mind. Divine service was over, but the agitation of my mind still continued. My guide perceived it, took me by the hand, and conducted me into a passage which leads from the church to the interior of the house. It is here, said he, that the inhabitants of the place repair to their usual occupations. At a certain signal they all assembled at a place destined for the muster of the morning. My surprise was increased on beholding, that as they arrived in the middle of a spacious court, they all ranged themselves in a line in the peristile which run round it. A profound silence prevailed when the director of the establishment appeared. On seeing him, I observed the most melancholy rejoice, and yield to the sweetest emotions of the heart. I fancied myself in the bosom of a numerous family, assembled in the morning round a tender father who loves his children. The Director, passing through the ranks which they formed, listened to the recital of their sufferings, the wants, the grievances, the dreams, the follies of each, and replied to all by words of peace and consolation. His words were like a talisman, which calmed their agitation, dispelled melancholy chagrin, and spread serenity and smiles on the most thoughtful and perturbed countenances. This kind of review being terminated, most of them went into the garden contiguous to the court. There several games were arranged, judiciously contrived to afford them a gentle and agreeable Gymnastic exercise, and to dissipate the gloomy thoughts in which they were habitually plunged. While contemplating this kind of contest, I perceived that the presence of the spectators, and the natural desire of receiving the prize given to the victor, excited in their hearts a noble entulation. While many of the patients thus indulged in the pleasure of this wholesome recreation, others walked about in silence and avoided company; others declaimed aloud: here several of them were cultivating flowers; there, others stood immoveable, and so plunged in deep reflection, that it seemed as if the fall of the edifice would not have roused them from it. I had spent an hour in this manner, and was absorbed in the ideas which the sight inspired, when my guide invited my companion and myself to go to a high story. We ascended a magnificent staircase; at the top of which, an elegant vase, filled with fine perfume, diffused an agreeable odour through the whole building. On the right, two of our grenadiers stood sentinel before an arsenal of simulated arms. From curiosity, I put several questions to them, but could not obtain any answer, because they would have imagined they committed a great breach of discipline if they had bro ken silence. We were then led into a large saloon neatly decorated, where we found several of the insane, who, like people in full possession of their reason, were passing their time agreeably in conversation, or in playing on the harpsichord and other instruments, singing pleasing songs, and hymns of gratitude in honour of the king, whose bust is set up between the statues of Piety and Wisdom, who place on his brow a crown offered him by the love of his subjects. In the adjoining apartment, some young men of distinguished birth, quietly amused themselves in playing billiards. Astonished at the urbanity, the decorum, the tranquillity, and the politeness, of this unfortunate family, a stranger could not help saying to my guide, "Where then are the insane?" "Wherever you turn your eyes," answered he. The peace, the regularity, the good temper which you witness here, are the fruit of vigilance, of order, of a skilful combination of the different methods of promoting health, and of the happy application of the means pointed out by medicine, moral philosophy, and a profound knowledge of the human mind." In more than one kind of mental derangement, the difficult art of administering medicines, and above all, that of prescribing the use of them, must occupy the first rank. Hospitals for the insane governed like places of confinement, or, like prisons, destined to secure dangerous patients who must be sequestered from society, are calculated but to multiply the kinds of victims whom they contain. In this hospital the ancient rigorous treatment of the patients has been happily replaced by tender and affectionate cares, by the admirable art of gaining the mind, and by a mild and pliant firmness. Experience has soon demonstrated the advantages of this system, and every body acknowledges that it was inspired, not by the blind empiricism of ill judged pity, but by profound knowledge and enligtened reflections on the cause of madness and the means of curing it. [The writer here gives an account of two eminent physicians, who came to begin a series of Galvanic experiments, applied to certain species of madness very frequent in hospitals for the insane. After having chosen the patients, M. Ronchi, one of them, explained in an eloquent and concise manner the reasons which convinced him that the remedy seemed efficacious, and the hopes which might be conceived of it. Being witnesses to these experiments, we had an opportunity, says the author, of observing the effect which the Galvanic electricity produced on several individuals, a statement of which will throw the greatest light on the obscure art of treating the infinite variety of mental aberrations.] It struck twelve, and the experiments ceased, it being the hour of dinner. As we proceeded to the Refrectory, the Chevalier Linguiti, the other physician, pointed out the dark chamber, the floor and walls of which are covered with mattrasses to confine the maniacs when the fit of phrenzy is on them; and the beds, on which the patients are placed in such a manner, that (the circulation not being impeded) it is impossible for them to injure themselves or others. He likewise showed us the strait waistcoats, which permit the insane to walk about at their ease, without being able to commit any excess; the apartment destined for thẻ surprise bath; the theatre, where these unfortunate persons recreate themselves in representing musical pieces; and lastly, that of the puppets, where their minds are frequently diverted in a very beneficial manner I saw this whole family again assembled at table. Unhappily it was still too nume rous, notwithstanding the frequent and daily cures which annually restore a great number of its members to the state, to their relations, to the arts, the sciences, and humanity. The bread, the wine, the meat, the soup, all the aliments, were wholesome, of good quality, well prepared, and well served up: tranquility, order, silence, were every where observed; but it was then that I first became sensible in what kind of a place I was. The continual agitation of the insane, the motion of their muscles, which is not interrupted in their moments of rage, the animal heat which in many of them is much increased, the extraordinary energy of their strength, sometimes excito in them an extraordinary voracity; and it was such, in some of these unfortunate persons, that they devoured their food like ferocious beasts, appearing insatiable, whatever quantity the kind Director set before them. Their physiognomy, their gestures, their secret murmurs, which would cause them to be taken less for men than for brutes, evidently proved that in these moments they were deprived of reason, and governed by instinct alone. A melancholy and painful sight, which cannot be beheld a moment without exciting the most sorrowful reflections on the dreadful evils which assail humanity. Full of these gloomy reflections, I left Aversa to be in the evening at Naples, in tending to visit the next day the Royal Establishment for the Poor. VIENNA. It is long since any dramatic production (perhaps not excepting even the Schuldt itself) has excited so much interest here as the tragedy of Sappho, by the author of the Ahfrau. And what is still more uncommon, the approbation it obtained is almost universal, notwithstanding without the violent disputes which his first piece excited. Sappho is the general topic of conversation; but little is blamed, the great er part enthusiastically praised. The plan is extremely simple. At the Olympic games, where Sappho had gained the prize, she becomes acquainted with a young and beautiful Phaon, who has been long prejudiced in her favour by her reputation and the charms of her poetry, and who has come to Olympia for the sole purpose of becoming acquainted with her whom his enraptured soul has long represented as the model of female dignity. He now sees her no longer indeed in the bloom of early youth, but still attractive enough to realise his ideal for a moment. She is charmed with his beauty, his homage; she attaches herself to him with all the ardour of her soul, takes him to Sestos, and desires to share with him whatever she possesses. Phaon soon finds that he is out of his place: he feels himself oppressed, and like a stranger. In these moments of mental struggle, he sees the young blooming and modest Melytta, Sappho's female slave, who is only fifteen years of age. An attachment takes place between them; Sappho's jealousy is excited; Phaon's ingratitude rends her mind; her passion carries her too far, she forgets herself and her dignity, and gives to her situation a degree of publicity, which must injure her in the eyes of her countrymen and of the world. This rouses her from her stupor; she exalts her mind by the contemplation of her glory, forgets a passion which was unworthy of ber, pardons Phaon and Melytta, unites them, soars once more to the gods in a sublime Ode, and then, in the sight of the people, throws herself into the sea from the promontory of Lincali. The most profound passion and the tenderest feelings, the dignity of tragedy and the charms of the Idyl, alternately delight us; the three unities are strictly observed; the two famale characters, Sappho and MeIytta, though in the strongest contrast with each other, both excite a powerful interest each in its own peculiar manner; and a dignified language and beautiful ingenious imagery complete the charm, This is the general sketch of the whole as it appears to every spectator. But to me it seems that there is a more profound, a more * For a particular account and critique of this interesting tragedy, see Literary Gazette, No. 4. hidden meaning in the piece, which, like a melancholy bass, accompanies the full and pure harmony of the whole, in many places is clearly heard, and in most, nay nearly in all, is felt. votaries happy; that the divine gift of poesy This is the idea, that art does not make its places those endowed with it on a solitary eminence, far from the pleasures and joys of humanity, nay, even far from the purer blessings of friendship and of love. This is evident, from the melancholy complaints of Sappho, who, with her exalted feeling, is a stranger in the world by which she is surring the simple Melytta to the great poetess, rounded from Phaon's excuse for prefer To gods be rev'rence, and to mortals love— and from numberless other passages. An afflicting remark, if it were true; but as experience and reflection convince us of the contrary, our minds receive a melancholy impression, that the poet has drawn, not so much from observation as from his own wounded heart, that heavenly flame which beams inspiration-his work, painfully consumes himself, and that he suffers, while we revel in the enjoyment which he procures us. HAIL. The learned and ingenious doctor Hook gives the following account of a wonderful shower of hail, which fell in London, in the year 1680. On the 19th May, says he, "at about half an hour after ten it began to grow very dark, and thundered, and soon after there began to fall a good quantity of hailstones, some of the bigness of pistol bullets, others as big as pullets' eggs, and some above two inches and a half, and some near three inches over the broad way; the smaller were pretty round, and white like chalk, the other of other shapes. Breaking many of them, I found them to be made up of orbs of ice, one encompassing another; some of them transparent, some white and opaque. Some of them had white spots in the middle, others towards the sides. Those which exceed in bigness were formed by an additional accretion of transparent icicles, radiating every way from the surface of the white ball, like the shooting of nitre or toothed sparre. These in some stood, as it were, separate, in distinct icicles, which were very clear and transparent, and had no blebs or whiteness in them. Others were all concreted into a solid lump, and the interstices filled up with ice, which was not so clear as the Stiria, but whiter, and the one side, which I suppose was the uppermost, was flat, and the radications appeared to proceed from the ball in the middle; the edges and top were rough, and the ends of the Stiriæ appeared prominent. From the manner of their figure, I conceive their accretion was formed by a congelation of the water as it fell, that the small |