the smile; and the lovely contour of the chin; are attributes of man's countenance that are palpable to every one, and are the perpetual theme of the admiration, whether of the lover or of the philosopher. To this we ought also to add that interminable diversity of feature and of lineament so remarkable in the human face, that out of the countless millions of mankind possessing all that closeness of resemblance and all that striking similitude of form that are necessary to determine the species, or even the variety, no two individuals have ever yet been found so exactly alike as to make it a matter of any great difficulty to distinguish the one from the other.

Philosophers reduce the peculiar traits of countenance that characterize the several races of mankind to certain manifest varieties, of which the following are the most important:-1st. The Caucasian, whence the European variety: countenance oval; features delicately blended; forehead high and broad: nose aquiline; cheek-bones not prominent; complexion fair.-2nd. The Mongolian variety: face broad and flat; nose flat; space between the eyes wide; chin prominent; complexion olive.-3rd. The American variety: visage broad, but not flat; cheek-bones prominent; forehead short; eyes deeply fixed; nose flattish, but prominent; countenance red or of a copper tint.-4th. The Negro variety: face narrow, projecting in the lower part; forehead narrow, retreating, arched; eyes prominent; nose and lips thick; complexion black.-5th. The Malay variety: face not so narrow as in the Negro, projecting downwards; nose bottled; mouth large; complexion tawny.*

If we look at its rounded and globular form, we shall perceive that the human head has a grace and beauty conferred upon it that do not belong to any other form peculiar to any other animal; and even in man, the varieties having most of the globular form have the most of beauty. This will appear very plainly, if the investigator will take the trouble to compare the form of the Caucasian variety with that of the other four varieties, either in the actual crania of dissected subjects, if he has access to such, or in the drawings with which anatomists have furnished us. The head of the Georgian female is regarded, by Europeans at least, as the most perfect model of human beauty. It is the most globular of all the varieties and is generally quoted as an example of the most exquisite of capital forms. In the other varieties, but particularly in that of the Negro, the forehead is so much flattened, and the lower part of the face the mouth and jaws-so much protruded, as to suggest the degrading idea of a snout * Blumenbach's Phys., by Elliotson, p. 391.

or muzzle; lowering, in our estimation, excessively, the pretensions of the negro head, whether to grace or to beauty. Physiologists have even instituted a standard of perfection with regard to the form of the head, which they find in the facial angle of the Caucasian variety. Viewing the head in profile, when the body stands erect, draw a line from the greatest projection of the forehead to the upper maxillary bone: this is the facial line. From beneath the basis of the nostrils, draw a horizontal line meeting the facial line: this junction gives the facial angle, and the measure of the relative projection of the jaws and forehead. nearer it approaches to a right angle, or in other words, the less prominent the jaw, the more perfect is the form, and the greater the presumed sagacity of the individual. But if the head of the Negro will not bear a comparison with that of the Caucasian, much less will the head of any of the inferior animals bear it.

The

Lastly, if we regard the head as being the seat of the organs of sense, we shall find its pre-eminence above all the other parts of the human fabric to be most signally demonstrated. First, as containing the eye, the organ of vision, which, stationed like the sentinel in his watch-tower, surveys from its lofty height the objects placed around it, and unfolds to the individual the beauties of the external world. Cicero seems to have been duly impressed with a conviction of this truth when he wrote the following sentence: "Nam occuli tanquam speculatores, altissimum locum optinent, ex quo plurima conspicientes, funguntur suo munere ;""For thus the eyes, placed like sentinels on a watch-tower, discharge their function with an extended sphere of vision." Secondly, as containing the ear, the organ of hearing, calculated to receive the impressions of sound, to give us notice of the approach of external objects, and to enable us to appreciate the value of tones, whether they be the modulations of music, or the articulations of a spoken language. Thirdly, as containing the nose, the organ of smell, and source of balmy delights, projecting, as Haller observes, "like an engine in the air,''§ to arrest and collect the perfumes, sweets, and odours that are exhaled from the treasures of Flora, and wafted on the winds. Fourthly, as containing the tongue, the organ of taste, and with the mouth, the arbiter of savours, discriminating between the clean and the unclean, the noxious and the wholesome, the production that is good for food and the production that is to be rejected; as well as forming a principal part of the apparatus of speech, the distinguishBlumenbach, by Elliotson, p. 388. De Nat. Deor.

First Lines, by Cullen, sect. 465.

ing attribute of man. Fifthly, as possessing, in common with all the rest of the surface of the fabric, the general attribute of tact, which exists, however, in the highest degree only in the palms of the hands and at the ends of the fingers, and is there denominated touch. Finally, besides being the seat of the organs of sense, it is also the seat of the endowment of intellect, as is indicated by our own internal convictions, leading us irresistibly to the conclusion that thought has its residence in the head. The

head thinks.- The Rev. P. Keith.

Manners and Customs.

THE SCALDALETTO, OR ITALIAN WARMINGPAN.

(To the Editor.)

To your readers among the fair sex, it may not be uninteresting to know under what form that most necessary article of domestic economy, a Warming - Pan, appears in a foreign country.

The sketch beneath represents an Italian Warming-Pan, which we saw in use at an inn in Tuscany.

It consists of a frame of wood, from which, suspended by a hook, hangs an earthenware pot filled with wood ashes. The pot very much resembles those which all women in the south of Italy, from the princess to the beggar, carry about with them, and to which they give the name of marito, or husband.

This simple machine being placed in the bed, the bed-clothes are thrown over it. No danger of fire arises from the use of it, as the arched form of the framework produces a large cavity in the bed; and, whilst it thus protects it from the ashes, it at the same time affords to every part an equal warmth.

It is a most effectual contrivance, as we

experienced to our comfort: and it receive d the entire admiration and approbation of the ladies of our party. E. C.

The Public Journals.

THE PIRATE.

On one bright May morning, Edmund Allerton was riding along the southern shore of Long-Island, with spirits influenced by the brightness of the weather, the melody of the birds, and the green splendour of the woodlands. Quitting the confines of Brooklyn, then an unimportant village, consisting of a few dwellings unequally scattered over an undulating surface, the young horseman struck into a road, that, following the indentations of the bay, wound along for several miles on the borders of a pleasant and fruitful region.

Edmund remarked these and other features of the landscape, as, restraining the impetuosity of his horse, he made the animal amble leisurely along. Within a short distance of the site of the present Fort Hamilton, he halted and dismounted in the shade of a cedar grove, that grows upon the edge and half way down the bank, and was then, as now, defended from the encroachments of the axe, and the favourite resort of rustic couples. The rude trunks of this little plantation bear the initials of true lovers, some of them freshly cut in the hoary bark, and others half obliterated by the growth of the wood and the trespasses of vagrant mosses. The spot, although not haunted by any of the little elves and fairies, which are wont to sport in such bits of woodland in the old world, had, nevertheless, its own local traditions. Here, it was confidently asserted, were buried some of the treasures of that renowned rover, who figured so conspicuously in the colonial annals of our country; and the receptacle of his wealth

was said to be guarded by the sheeted apparition of one of the victims of the pirate. The story ran thus:

Kidd, notwithstanding his repulsive manners and ferocious character, succeeded in engaging the affections of a lovely and innocent young woman, the daughter of one of the most substantial farmers of the island. She met him frequently, in secret and by night, in "Love's Grove,' "the romantic spot just described. He tried her cruelly; and finally, by wile and violence, made her wholly his. No sooner had the outlaw satisfied his base passion, than he bade farewell to his victim, and left her, a prey to grief, shame, and remorse. Months rolled

on, and the fortunes of Kidd became so desperate, that he acknowledged the provinces too hot to hold him; and, being hunted closely, determined to turn his prow to the south, and thenceforth maraud upon the Carribean sea. But first, being unable to carry all his treasures on board of his vessel, he resolved to bury them on the shores of New-York bay and Long-Island sound, returning to claim them as opportunity occurred. With this view, he sought, one evening, the southern shore of Nassau Island, and landed in a spot which was perfectly familiar to him, as it was that in which he had so often met the unfortunate woman whom he had seduced and forsaken. He anchored his boat. Aided by a few followers and guided by the waning light of the moon, he took his chest of treasure on shore, and dug a deep pit into which he lowered it. The pirates were preparing to fill up the chasm, when a piercing cry broke from the wood, and immediately afterward a young girl, with a child in her arms, rushed forward and kneeled at the feet of Kidd. It was the pirate's mistress, who conjured him to make her his companion for life, as he had once promised to do. Kidd was unmoved; he reviled, he spurned the supplicant, and, with threatening gestures, commanded her to retire. She was not, however, so easily repulsed, but clung to his knees and continued to beseech him with frantic energy. The pirate was anxious to quit the shore before the turn of the tide, and finding that there was no other way to silence his victim, drew forth his knife and stabbed her to the heart. She fell without a groan into the pit beneath her feet, and the cold-blooded villain then threw her wailing babe upon the corpse, and buried together the quick and the dead. Since that time, many attempts have been made to secure the hidden treasure; but the money-diggers have never been successful, having been driven away by the pale spectre of Kidd's mistress, holding in her arms a child.

Edmund was familiar with this superstition, and, as he lingered in the shadow of the haunted grove, drew forth his tablets,

and sketched, with considerable rapidity, the following verses :

THE LAST WORDS OF KIDD.
WITH iron gyves and manacles
Ye've bound my hapless form,
That once, unyielding, braved the sea,
The battle and the storm;

But though the links are huge and strong,
And forged with cruel art,
They are not half so heavy as
The weight upon my heart.
When in my might and liberty,
I trod the oaken deck,

I little feared the coming foe,
I little feared the wreck;
The truest hearts that ever bled
Were beating by my side,
And in my face you could not trace
Aught save defying pride.

Ay, I was proud-proud of the flag,
That, like a lurid star,

A meteor of the air and wave,

Streamed o'er the ocean war;
'Twas never struck, but nobly kept
Its place upon the mast-
And when the spar was shot away,
It fluttered to the last.
But all is done-the cannonade
Has died along the wave,
And more than half my gallant crew
Sleep in a briny grave:

And spars, and planks, and riven yards
Are floating o'er the deep;
Why must my bones away from thee,
My gallant sea-boat, sleep?
Confess, ye British mariners,
We made a brave defence,
Our guns,

well served with grape and round,
Sent many a seamau hence.
A gallant rover's triumph o'er
His foes you should have seen,
Had but the shell I threw blown up
Within the magazine.

But that is past, and shadows dark
Are crowding o'er me now,
And misery has set its seal
Upon my icy brow.

No subtle priest is by my side

To shrive me or to bless;
But my hour of pride is past, and I
Will now confess-confess!

I slew her on the island shore-
It was a cursed deed-
And yet I shuddered not at first
To see my victim bleed.

I slew her-I-that gentle one,
Who only lived for me:

My boat's crew saw the cursed deed,
And the pale moon and the sea.

I slew them both-the mother and
The little guiltless child;

Yet, when the earth was o'er them cast,
I turned away and smiled.
'Twas pride that curled my haughty lip,
Unconquerable pride,

That bade me all the pangs of guilt
Within my bosom hide.
Alas! since then, how seldom sleep
Has visited these eyes!
How oft I've lain awake and gazed
Upon the midnight skies,
And seen their poor pale faces look
From out some passing cloud,
That flushed as if reflecting there
The blood that cried aloud.
'Twas in the Gulf of Mexico-
Midnight, and I awake-

A spiritual presence made

My flesh creep aud heart quake.

'Twas she-my murdered mistress-and

How awfully she smiled,

And how extended, with thin arms,
Her little phantom child!

"I come," she said, " to tell

you of
The faithful watch I've kept,
How, round and round the grave of gold,
I've walked, while others slept-
Walked, till the cock crew and the morn
Dappled the distant East;

E eu now we flee o'er land and sea,
To do your high behest.

"1 come to tell you of your doom-
'Tis written in the scroll
Where every deed is registered

Against each guilty soul.
Farewell! farewell! I go to watch
The grave beside the bay!"
And, waving slow one ashy hand,
She faded quite away.

Say-can your dungeons and your chains,
Though formed with cruel art,

Produce one half the hellish pangs
That lacerate my heart?

My phantom mistress comes to share
My dungeon's gloom with me;

She brings the child-Lead me away—
I'll kiss the fatal tree!

New England Magazine.

DROP, drop into the grave, Old Leaf,
Drop, drop into the grave;
Thy acorns grown, thy acorns sown,

Drop, drop into the grave:
December's tempests rave, Old Leaf,
Above thy forest-grave, Old Leaf;

Drop, drop into the grave!
The birds in spring will sweetly sing
That death alone is sad;

The grass will grow, the primrose show-
That death alone is sad:
Lament above thy grave, Old Leaf;
For what has life to do with grief?

'Tis death alone that's sad.

What then? We two have both lived through
The sunshine and the rain;
And blessed be He, to me and thee
Who seut His sun and rain!
We've had our sun and rain, Old Leaf;
And God will send again, Old Leaf,
The sunshine and the rain.
Race after race of leaves and men
Bloom, wither, and are gone;
As winds and waters rise and fall,
So life and death roll on :
And long as ocean heaves, Old Leaf,
And bud and fade the leaves, Old Leaf,
Will life and death roll on.

How like am I to thee, Old Leaf!
We'll drop together down;

How like art thou to me, Old Leaf!

We'll drop together down:

I'm grey, and thou art brown, Old Leaf-
We'll drop together down, Old Leaf,

We'll drop together down!
Drop, drop into the grave, Old Leaf,
Drop, drop into the grave;
Thy acorns grown, thy acorns sown,
Drop, drop into the grave:
December's tempests rave, Old Leaf,
Above thy forest-grave, Old Leaf;
Drop, drop into the grave.

Tait's Edinburgh Magazine.

New Books.

LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN.
By the Author of the Sketch-Book.

[HERE is the third volume of Washington
Irving's delightful Miscellanies, drawn " from
the enchanted fountains of old Spanish chro-
nicles." "Few events in history," prefaces
the author, "have been so signal and striking
in their main circumstances, and so over-
whelming and enduring in their consequences,
as that of the conquest of Spain by the Sara-
cens."
From the records of this mighty
event has Washington Irving woven his
volume of fixing legends; "not claiming for
them the authenticity of sober history, yet
giving nothing that has not historical foun-
dation." Tinctured with saintly miracle, sa-
vouring of the cloister, and rich in romantic
fictions that betray their Arabian authors,-
from such apocryphal sources, Spanish histo-
rians have taken their rise, 66 as pure rivers
may be traced up to the fens and mantled
pools of a morass.' It is true that discri-
minating authors have only culled such par-
ticulars as, from their probability and con-
gruity, might be safely recorded as historical
facts; yet, most of these are tinged from
their romantic source.]

To discard, however, everything wild and marvellous in this portion of Spanish history, is to discard some of its most beautiful, instructive, and national features; it is to judge of Spain by the standard of probability suited to tamer and more prosaic countries. Spain is virtually a land of poetry and romance, where every-day life partakes of adventure, and where the least agitation or excitement carries everything up into extravagant enterprise and daring exploit. The Spaniards, in all ages, have been of swelling and braggart spirif, soaring in thought, pompous in word, and valiant, though vainglorious, in deed. Their heroic aims have transcended the cooler conceptions of their neighbours, and their reckless daring has borne them on to achievements which prudent enterprise could never have accomplished. Since the time, too, of the conquest and occupation of their country by the Arabs, a strong infusion of oriental magnificence has entered into the national character, and rendered the Spaniard distinct from every other nation of Europe.

[The volume is divided into two Sectionsthe Legend of Don Roderick; and the Legend of the Subjugation of Spain: these are subdivided into chapters, so as to engraft upon the main events many a tale of riveting interest, as may be seen in a'specimen.]

Story of the Marvellous and Portentous
Tower.

The morning sun shone brightly upon the cliff-built towers of Toledo, when King Roderick issued out of the gate of the city, at the