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represented to have said Wordsworth "is remarkable for the manner which he is wrapped up in his own poetical life: he thinks of nothing else: everything ministers to it: everything is done with reference to it: he is all and only a poet." Hazlitt describes Mr. Wordsworth as "above the middle size, with marked features; reminding one of some of Holbein's heads, grave, saturnine, with a slight indication of sly humour, kept under by the manners of the age, or the pretensions of the person. In company, he is often silent, indolent, and reserved. Chantry's bust of Wordsworth wants the marking traits: Haydon's head of him, introduced into the Entrance of Christ into Jerusalem, is the most like his drooping weight of thought and expression."

Through the personal friendship of Lord Lonsdale, Mr. Wordsworth obtained, several years since, the distributorship of stamps for Cumberland and Westmoreland, which office he now holds.

ENGRAVINGS.

PORTRAIT OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, Esq.-Frontispiece.

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Jerusalem Chamber, (two cuts) 345

Keats, Sir R. G., Monument to, 289

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Sugar-loaf Rock, St. Helena, 121
Tailor-bird, Italian, 241

Tiger-hunt, the, 321

Humane Society's New Receiving-house, 257 Trees destroyed by Insects, 377

Lacock Abbey, 369

La Torre and the Vaudois Church, 409
Memlook Kings, Tombs of, (two cuts) 33

Virginia Water, 161
Tree, Inhabited, 209
Walsingham, Ruins at, 360
White, Sir Thomas, 129,

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MAUSOLEUM OF MARSHAL SAXE. THE prefixed Engraving represents one of the most celebrated curiosities of the Continent -the magnificent monument to Marshal Saxe, in the Protestant church of St. Thomas, at Strasbourg. The inscription denotes it to be the tribute of Louis XV. to the memory of his bravest hero; although its erection was not completed until two years, (in 1776,) after the King's death. It was designed and executed in marble, by J. B. Pigalle, the royal sculptor, and is rather admired for its grandeur than its simplicity for its vastness, rather than its details. It is based on an obelisk, against the wall of the church, and it fills the chancel, or where the altar is usually placed. The design represents the hero, having defeated the lion, wolf, and eagle, the representatives of war, about to step into his tomb, with characteristic placidity and fortitude. His brow is bound with the laurel of victory, and he bears the riband and bâton of office. On his left is a cherub extinguishing a torch, and in tears; and at his feet is the figure of France, which seems to hold him back, and implore his stay of the draped figure of Death, (as the skeleton, profile, hands, and foot denote,) below, who holds up a glass to bespeak that the conqueror's sand is run out. At the opposite end of the tomb or sarcophagus is a stalwart soldier in deep lamentation. Beneath are gracefully emblazoned the arms of the Marshal, with bâtons, and the chain and jewel of his order. The figures in this superb group are, it is said, of unequal merit; those of the Marshal and suppliant France being most admired for their dignity and graceful beauty.

The original of the Cut is a finely executed, large print, by Chretien de Mechel, à Basle. To this may not inappropriately be appended a brief outline of the hero, whose splendid services this monument is designed

to commemorate.

Maurice, Count of Saxe, was born October 19, 1696, at Dresden, and was the natural son of Frederick Augustus II., King of Poland, and Aurora, Countess of Koningsmark. In childhood, he is said to have evinced some presages of his warlike genius. He was taught to read and write with the ut most difficulty; nor could he ever be prevailed upon to study a few hours in the morning, otherwise than by a promise that he should ride on horseback in the afternoon. When a mere boy, he joined the allied army, under the Duke of Marlborough and the Prince Eugene. He was at the siege of Lisle in 1708, when only twelve years old; and he mounted the trenches several

There is a lithograph of this noble tomb prefixed to a book called A July up the Rhine; but it s rather a caricature than a representation, and is altogether miserably executed.

times both at the city and the fortress, in
sight of the King his father, who admired
his intrepidity. At the siege of Tournay, in
the year following, he twice narrowly escaped
death; and at the battle of Malplaquet, far
from being shocked at the carnage around
him, he declared, in the evering, that "he
was well pleased with the day." In 1711,
he followed the King of Poland to Stral-
sund, where he swam over the river, in sight
of the enemy, with his pistol in his hand,
during which time he saw, without any
seeming emotion, three officers and above
twenty soldiers fall by his side. When he
retired to Dresden, the King, who had wit-
nessed his courage and abilities, raised a
company of horse for him. Count Saxe
spent the whole winter in teaching his regi-
ment some new evolutions, which he had
invented, and next marched against the
Swedes in the following year.
This regi-
ment suffered much at the battle of Gadel-
bush, where he made them return three times
to the attack. At the close of the cam-
paign, Count Saxe married the young
Countess de Loben, a rich and amiable lady
named Victoria, which name, Count Saxe
afterwards said, contributed as much to fix
his choice on the Countess, as her beauty
and large fortune. This lady brought him a
son, who died young. Shortly after, upon a
disagreement with her, he procured his mar-
riage to be dissolved.

Count Saxe continued to signalize himself in the war against Sweden, and was at the memorable siege of Stralsund, in December, 1715; when Charles XII. was blocked up, and had the satisfaction of seeing him in the midst of his grenadiers. The conduct of this celebrated warrior inspired Count Saxe with a high degree of veneration, which he ever retained for his memory. He next served against the Turks in Hungary in 1717, and on his return to Poland in 1718, received the order of the white eagle from the king.

In 1720, Count Saxe visited France, and, the duke of Orleans, then regent, gave him a brevet of marechal de camp. The Count afterwards obtained leave from his Polish majesty to serve in France, where, in 1722, he purchased a German regiment, the ancient exercise of which he changed for one of his own invention; and, the chevalier Folard, on seeing this exercise, foretold immediately, in his commentary on Polybius, that Count Saxe would be a great general. During his residence in France, he learned mathematics and the art of fortification, with surprising facility, till the year 1725, when schemes of ambition led him to discontinue these studies; for, in the following year, he became a candidate for the Duchy of Courland, and was unanimously elected, chiefly by aid of the duchess dowager, second daughter of the Czar Iwan Alexiowitz, brother of Peter the Great.

Count Saxe's election was opposed by Austria and Russia, and he could not maintain his ground in Courland, though he would have done so, had he returned the Duchess' pas, sion; and he would likewise have shared the throne of Russia, which this princess afterwards ascended.*

Count Saxe returned to Paris in 1729, resumed his study of mathematics, and acquired a taste for mechanics. He next distinguished himself on the Rhine, at the lines of Etlingen, and the siege of Philipsburg, after which he was made lieutenant-general, in August, 1734. Hostilities having recommenced on the death of the emperor Charles VI., Count Saxe took Prague by assault, Nov. 26, 1741, then Egra and Ellebogen, raised a regiment of Hullans, and brought back Marechal de Broglio's army upon the Rhine, where he fixed various posts, and seized the trenches of Lauterburg. He was appointed Marechal of France in 1744, and commanded the main body of the army in Flanders, where his superior tactics paralyzed the enemy, and made them afraid to undertake anything. This campaign in Flanders did Count Saxe great honour, and ranks as a chef-d'œuvre of the military art. He won the famous battle of Fontenoi, under the King's (Louis XV.) command, May 11, 1745: Louis viewed the victory at a safe distance; but Marshal Saxe, though sick and weak, gave his orders with such presence of mind, vigilance, courage, and judgment, as made him the admiration of the whole army. This victory was followed by the capture of Tournay, which the French besieged, of Ghent, Bruges, Oudenarde, Ostend, Ath, &c.; and, when the campaign was supposed to be finished, the Count took Brussels, February 28, 1746. In the same year, and his next campaign, he won the battle of Raucoux; and Louis, to reward such a succession of glorious services, declared Count Saxe marshal-general of his camps and armies, January 12, 1747. Marshal Saxe then carried troops into Zealand, gained the battle of Lanfelt, July following, approved the siege of Bergen-opZoom, and took Maestricht, May 7, 1748. These victories led to the peace of Aix-laChapelle in the same year.

Marshal Saxe went afterwards to Chambord which the King had given him, ordered his regiment of Hullans thither, and kept a stud of wild horses. He visited Berlin some time after, and was magnificently entertained by the King of Prussia. On his return to Paris, he planned the colonization of the isle of Tobago; but relinquished the scheme, when he found that England and Holland opposed it. Marshal Saxe died, after a nine days' illness, at Chambord, November 30,

• In refusing the hand of the Duchess, Count Saxe only kept a vow which he made on the dissolution of his marriage-never to wed again.

1750, aged 54. He wrote a book on the art of war, which has been translated into English.

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Marshal Saxe was a man of ordinary stature, of a robust constitution, and extraordinary strength. To an aspect, noble, warlike, and mild, he joined many excellent qualities of disposition. Affable in his manners, and disposed to sympathize with the unfortunate, his generosity sometimes carried him beyond the limits of his fortune. He was remarkably careful of the lives of his men. One day, a general officer was pointing out to him a post which would have been of great use; "It will only cost you," said he, dozen grenadiers."—"That would do very well," replied the marshal, "were it only a dozen lieutenant-generals." He had been educated and died in the Lutheran religion. "It is a pity," said the Queen of France, when she heard of his death, “that we cannot say a single De profundis for a man who has made us sing so many Te Deums." Religion had not much influence on his general conduct; but on his deathbed he is said to have reviewed his errors with remorse, and expressed much penitence.

MISS LANDON.

THE present day is rich enough in female talent, to put to shame the contemptuous reflections, which, from the courtly Chesterfield downwards, have been cast on the mental endowments of the sex. "Women," says that polite detractor, " have but one object in life, which is their beauty,-they are but children of a larger growth." A fair array of names, however, brighten and adorn the paths of literature, in fiction, in poetry, in biography, in astronomy. Mrs. Somerville, following in the starry track of Newton, has explored the worlds "beyond this visible, diurnal sphere," and in her little work on the most pure and elevating of all the sciences, has given a name to female literature, which will live when the ephemeral celebrity of those who seek only to amuse, shall have glided smoothly down the waters of oblivion.

It is pleasant to cast our eyes on female names, which have delighted and adorned the years gone by; "few indeed, and far between," but sweetly do their memories still shine through the gathering mistiness of time. The spiritual and sainted Mrs. Rowe; the chastely-elegant Anna Seward; the useful Mrs. Barbauld; the wildly-imaginative Mrs. Radcliffe; the tender, graceful, but unhappy Mrs. Robinson; the melancholy Charlotte Smith; the epistolary beauty of Mrs. Grant; the moral truth and excellence of "dear, didactic" Mrs. West; the pious Mrs. Carter; the acute and witty Jane Taylor; the rigid, sententious, and gifted Hannah More. But, how differently must we view the erring

and perverted genius of Mary Woolstoncraft, over whose daring and most deplorable departure from all which gives charms to the talent of her sex, the admirers of her extraordinary powers must ever mourn. We revolt at minds, however gifted, when they are distorted to purposes of evil, obscuring the intellectual ray in the mists of error, quenching" the vital spark of heavenly flame," which was bestowed to enlighten and adorn, in the dull vapours of infidelity and scepticism of all held sacred by the wise and good. Again, how much more repulsive is this mental deformity, when contemplated in woman, o'erstepping the modesty of nature," and making us fain to regret that such a one had not been rather born with the limited faculties of Jane Taylor's lady of three ideas, "stiff as the plaitings in her Sunday cap;" over the sandy desert of whose brain, no original thought ever wandered to startle or alarm.

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But, turn we from this mournful wreck to the name of Miss Landon-the sparkling, the impassioned "L. E. L."—whose rare and varied fancy has charmed so often-from the pretty, but sometimes immature, outpourings of her youthful muse, to the world-knowledge, the experience, and close study of human nature, to be found in her aphorisms. It is interesting to mark the developement of her mind, her sanguine and ardent fancy, when "life had not lost its rich romantic hues, but human bosoms seem'd the homes of truth," mellowed to the searching and observant mind, which has learned in the haunts of life much to shade all glowing imaginings, in the clear, cold hues of truth. She had not wandered far, ere she found the flowers of early hope wither beneath the wintry blasts, which, during our pilgrimage on earth, so often scatter human wishes and aspirings. Hence the spiritual and heavenward flight which her muse has taken. Her Easter Offering, in which the most important of all themes forms the chief subject, at once gives evidence of her genius and her piety. Still young, how much has the world taught her of its treachery, its selfishness, its faithless seemings! Discernment of character, keen insight of the human heart, and tracing of actions to their motives, are the excellencies of her Francesca Carrara. She has, like Byron, grown old in thought, not years, "piercing the depths of time."

"True poetry," a pleasing writer has observed, "reveals to us the loveliness of nature, brings back the freshness and enthusiasm which warmed the spring-time of our being, and strengthens our interest in human nature, by vivid pictures of its tenderest and loftiest emotions." These attributes belong in no ordinary degree to many of the efforts of Miss Landon's muse. A sweet picture of the tender memories of bereaved affection may be found in her little effusion, entitled

Tivoli. The mourner is visiting the place
after the death of her, for whose sake he had
formerly come to this land of the summer,
when " on her cheek pale omen sat :"
When last I gazed, fair Tivoli,
Upon these falls of thine,
Another step was by my side,
Another hand in mine;

And mirrored in those gentle eyes,
To me thou wert a paradise.
I've smiled to see her sweet lips move,
Yet not one accent hear,
Lost in the mighty waterfall,
Although we were so near.

Again her clear brow turned too clear,
Her bright cheek turn'd too bright,
And her eyes, but for tenderness,
Had been too full of light.

It was as if her beauty grew
More heavenly as it heavenward drew.
Long years have past, and toil and care
Have sometimes been to me,
What, in my earliest despair,

I dreamt not they could be.
But here the past comes back again,
Oh, why so utterly in vain?
There is a change come o'er thy hills,
A shadow o'er thy sky;
The shadow is from my own heart,
The change in my own eye,-
It is our feelings give the tone,
To whatsoe'er we gaze upon.
Yet thou art lovely-but, alas!
Not lovely as of yore,
And of thy beauty I but ask

To look on it no more!
Earth does not hold a spot for me,
So sad as thou, fair Tivoli!

A spirited sketch is her Lost Ship, with
its mysterious fate, its buried treasures, and
the vain longings of bereaved ones for those
whose dirge the moan of ocean sings:
Deep in the silent waters,

A thousand fathoms low,
A gallant ship lies perishing,
She foundered long ago.
There are pale sea flowers wreathing
Around her port-holes now,
And spars and shining coral

Eucrust her gallant prow.
There are pistol, sword, and carbine,
Hung on the cabin wall,
And many a curious dagger,

But rust has spoiled them all.
We only know from England,

She sailed far o'er the main;
We only know to England,

She never came again!
And eyes grew dim with watching,
That yet refused to weep;
And years were spent in hoping,
For tidings from the deep.
It grew an old man's story,
Upon their native shore;
God rest those souls in heaven,
Who met on earth no more!

We would not go so far as to say with
Hazlitt, that" all that is worth remembering
in life is the poetry of it;" but we may surely
love what lifts the mind above ordinary life,
and awakens the consciousness of its affinity
with all that is pure and noble.
says Lord Bacon, "has something divine in
it, because it raises the mind and hurries it

"Poetry,"

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