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ship gave a heavy lurch, which, if the original direction of the little creature's course had been continued, must have plunged it into the sea. All who witnessed the scene, were in pain for its safety; but it suddenly appeared to check itself, and so to modify its career, that it alighted safely on deck." Upon this fact, the Editor felicitously observes, "Does it not demonstrate something like the existence in these organs of a certain degree of subservience to the will, sufficient at least to counteract the original impulse by which they were put in motion, and to turn aside their course on the appearance of any sudden danger?" This squirrel seldom quits the inner part of its cage until the approach of evening, when it becomes extremely lively and active.

Next are three varieties of Monkeys; of one of them, the Entellus, a native of Ceylon, it is related that "such is the respect in which they are held by the natives, that, whatever ravages they may commit, the latter dare not venture to destroy them, and only endeavour to scare them away by their cries. Emboldened by this impunity, the monkeys come down from the woods in large herds," and devour figs, cocoa-nuts, apples, pears, and even potatoes and cabbages, which form their favourite spoil.

The Leopard is beautifully engraved. In some excellent observations on the

feline tribe generally, prefixed to its description, is the following, accounting for their strength of jaw; "the muscles which move the lower jaw are of great bulk, and the point on which they immediately act is brought so far forwards, in consequence of the breath and shortness of the muzzled, as to give them the highest degree of attainable force."

The Brown Bear. From the Editor's enumeration it appears that instead of the solitary species (of Bear) known to Linnæus, there are now recognised no less than eight, while five others may be regarded as in abeyance," waiting the decision of naturalists. Every one of the eight allowed species has been living within the last five or six years in London. Five are at the present moment exhibited in the Society's Menagerie, two others form part of its museum, and the eighth, the Grisly Bears of America, has been represented for nearly twenty years by a noble specimen in the Menagerie of the Tower. Such are the advances which this department of zoology has made since the days of Linnæus. Among the notices of bears, we learn that at Berne, by a regulation

of the police, "all the unripe fruit that was brought to market was ordered to be given to the bears."

The American Black Bear is a finely pictured fellow. There is a beautiful trait of affection corroborated in the letter-press description. The pregnant females always conceal themselves; and this affords a satisfactory solution of the remarkable fact, that, to use the expression of Brickell, "no man, either Christian or Indian, ever killed a shebear with young." So true is this, that Dr. Richardson assures us that "after numerous inquiries among the Indians of Hudson's Bay, only one was found who had killed a pregnant bear."

We are not yet half through the volume, but must break off here-at The American Bison, by the way, a striking cut to remind us of noticing the remainder of the subjects, or, at least, the most singular of them. This task has cost us five or six hours, but we have been fascinated in our progress by the extreme beauty of the engravings, not forgetting the picturesqueness of the vignettes, or, tail-pieces, as we must call them. Many of the illustrative facts are too, new and attractive; and we have thus to thank the editor, artists, and publisher for a very delightful evening's entertainment, the germs of which we have here attempted to convey to our readers.

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Ten thousand let loose from their lairs,

Stagger forth to effect our undoing; And the press, predetermined to treat us as bears,

Now issues a Treatise on Brewing. The poets all bless the new law,

Aud swallow their purl as they wink;

my new patient must be a recent comer. About six o'clock that evening, I drove to Regent-street, sent in my card, and was presently ushered by the manservant into a spacious apartment, some

While artists, who usually drink when they what showily furnished. The mild re

draw,

May now go and draw what they drink.

Yet each Blue should indignantly mark

All those who this measure have planned;

tiring sunlight of a July evening was diffused over the room; and ample crimson window - curtains, half drawn,

For, strange though the issue must seem, the mitigated the glare of the gilded picture

bright barque

Of Landon may soou strike on land; Hannah More, growing less, may be passed; While an earthquake may ruin our Hall; Even Bowles, while at play, may meet rubbers at last,

Since Porter has had such a fall!

The world may well laugh when it wins,

And its mirth is the knell of our crimes; Like the rest of the outs, we look up to the inns, For their signs are as signs of the times. Who can say where calamity stops?

Where hope puts an end to our cares?
Alas! we seem destined to carry our hops
Where the kangaroos thrive upon theirs.
How sweet wert thou, sweetwort! until
The tempest came growling so near;
Till ruthless Economy came with its bill,
Like a vulture, and steeped it in beer.
Reduction's among the court-beauties,
Just now; and there might be a plan,
As the Don and his Sancho are taking off duties,
To take the Whole Duty off Man.

The nation seems caught in the net
Where the foes of Mendicity lurk,

And fearing abuse, is determined to set
The beer, like the beggars-to work.

It at least will supply us with cuts

To the Tale of a Tub we must learn;

frames which hung in great numbers round the walls. There was a large round table in the middle of the room, covered with papers, magazines, books, cards, &c.; and, in a word, the whol aspect of things indicated the residence of a person of some fashion and fortune. On a side-table lay several pairs of boxing-gloves, foils, &c. &c. The object of my visit, Mr. Gloucester, was seated on an elegant ottoman, in a pensive posture, with his head leaning on his hand, which rested on the table. He was engaged with the newspaper when I was announced. He rose as I entered, politely handed to me a chair, and then resumed his seat on the ottoman. His countenance was rather pleasing-fresh-coloured, with regular features, and very light auburn hair, which was adjusted with a sort of careless fashionable negligence.

After some hurried expressions of

So that having long prospered and flourish'd on civility, Mr. Gloucester informed me

butts,

We have now become butts in our turn.

From eagles we sink into bats,

And flit round a desolate home;

While those of each firm who can roam from

their vats,

May visit thy Vatican, Rome!

And there, growing classic, we'll move
Great Bacchus to back us alone;

Who, hating mean malt, may yet kindly approve
This whine while he's drinking his own.

Yet this we must all of us feel,

And while we admit it we weep, The profession is far less select and genteel Since beer became vulgar and cheap. But "I'm ill at these numbers"-they're o'er! Both pathos and bathos have fled; The world, were I dead, would not want a Whit-more,

For it knows that I'm not a Whit-bread! Monthly Magazine.

THE FORGER.

From the Diary of a late Physician. A GROOM, in plain livery, left a card at my house one afternoon during my absence, on which was the name "Mr. Gloucester, No. -, Regent - street;" and in pencil the words, "Will thank Dr. to call this evening." As my red-book was lying on the table at the time, I looked in it, from mere casual curiosity, to see whether the name of "Gloucester" appeared there-but it did not. I concluded, therefore, that

that he had sent for me on account of a deep depression of spirits, to which he was latterly subject. He proceeded to detail many of the symptoms of a disordered nervous system. He was tormented with vague apprehensions of impending calamity; could not divest himself of an unaccountable trepidation of manner, which, by attracting observation, seriously disconcerted him on many occasions; felt incessantly tempted to the commission of suicide; loathed society; disrelished his former scenes of amusement; had lost his appetite; passed restless nights, and was disturbed with appalling dreams. His pulse, tongue, countenance, &c. corroborated the above statement of his symptoms. I asked him whether any thing unpleasant had occurred in his family? Nothing of the kind. Disappointed in an affaire du cœur? Oh, no. Unsuccessful at play By no means-he did not play. Well→→ had he any source of secret annoyance which could account for his present depression? He coloured, seemed embarrassed, and apparently hesitating whether or not he should communicate to me what weighed on his spirits. He, however, seemed determined to keep me in ignorance, and with some altera

tion of manner, said, suddenly, that it was only a constitutional nervousnesshis family were all so—and he wished to know whether it was in the power of medicine to relieve him. I replied that I would certainly do all that lay in my power, but that he must not expect any sudden and miraculous effect from the medicines I might prescribe;-that I saw clearly he had something on his mind which oppressed his spirits-that he ought to go into cheerful society-he sighed-seek change of air-that, he said, was, under circumstances, impossible. I rose to go. He gave me two guineas, and begged me to call the next evening. I left, not knowing what to make of him. To tell the plain truth, my suspicion was that he was neither more nor less than a systematic London sharper -a gamester- a hanger-on about town, and that he had sent for me in consequence of some of those sudden alternations of fortune to which the lives of such men are subject. I was by no means anxious for a prolonged attend ance on him.

About the same time next evening I paid him a second visit. He was stretched on the ottoman, enveloped in a gaudy dressing-gown, with his arms folded on his breast, and his right foot hanging over the side of the ottoman, and dangling about as if in search of a stray slipper. I did not like this elaborately careless and conceited posture. A de canter or two, with some wine-glasses, stood on the table. He did not rise on my entering, but, with a languid air, begged me to be seated in a chair opposite him. "Good evening, doctor-good evening," said he in a low and hurried tone; "I am glad you are come, for if you had not, I'm sure I don't know what I should have done. I'm deucedly low to-night."

"Have you taken the medicines I prescribed, Mr. Gloucester?" I inquired, feeling his pulse, which fluttered irregularly, indicating a high degree of nervous excitement. He had taken most of the physic I had ordered, he said, but without perceiving any effect from it. "In fact, doctor," he continued, starting from his recumbent position to his feet, and walking rapidly three or four paces to and fro, "d-n me, if I know what's come to me. 1 feel as if I could cut my throat." I insinuated some questions for the purpose of ascertaining whether there was any hereditary tendency to insanity in his family-but it would not do. "He saw," he said, "what I was driving at," but I was "on a wrong scent.".

"Come, come, doctor!-after all, there's nothing like wine for low spirits, is there? D-me, doctor, drinkdrink. Only taste that claret"-and after pouring out a glass for me, which ran over the brim on the table-his hand was so unsteady-he instantly gulped down two glasses himself. There was a vulgar offensive familiarity in his manner, from which I felt inclined to stand off; but I thought it better to conceal my feelings. I was removing my glove from my right hand, and putting my hat and stick on the table, when, seeing a thin slip of paper lying on the spot where I intended to place them-apparently a bill or promissory note-I was going to hand it over to Mr. Gloucester; but, to my astonishment, he suddenly sprung towards me, snatched from me the paper, with an air of ill-disguised alarm, and crumpled it up into his pocket, saying hurriedly," Ha, ha, doctor-d-me!-this same little bit of paper-didn't see the name, eh? 'Tis the bill of an extravagant young friend of mine, whom I've just come down a cool hundred or two for-and it wouldn't be the handsome thing to let his name appear-ha-you understand?" stammered confusedly, directing to me as sudden and penetrating a glance as I ever encountered. I felt excessively uneasy, and inclined to take my departure instantly. My suspicions were now confirmed-I was sitting familiarly with a swindler-a gambler-and the bill he was so anxious to conceal, was evidently wrung from one of his ruined dupes. My demeanour was instantly frozen over with the most distant and frigid civility, I begged him to be re-seated, and allow me to put a few more questions to him, as I was in great haste. I was thus engaged, when a heavy knock was heard at the outer door. Though there was nothing particular in it, Mr. Gloucester started, and turned pale. In a few moments I heard the sound of altercation

He

the door of the room in which we sat was presently opened, and two men entered. Recollecting suddenly a similar scene in my own early history, I felt faint. There was no mistaking the character or errand of the two fellows, who now walked up to where we were sitting: they were two sullen Newgate myrmidons, and-gracious God!--had a warrant to arrest Mr. Gloucester for FORGERY! I rose from my chair, and staggered a few paces, I knew not whither. I could scarce preserve myself from falling on the floor. Mr. Glouces ter, as soon as he caught sight of the officers, fell back on the ottoman-sud

denly pressed his hand to his heart turned pale as death, and gasped, breathless with horror.

"Gentlemen-what-what-do you

want here?"

"Isn't your name E-T-?" asked the elder of the two, coolly and unconcernedly.

"N-o-my name is Glou-cester," stammered the wretched young man, almost inaudibly.

"Gloucester, eh ?-oh, d-me, none of that there sort of blarney! Come, my kiddy-caged at last, eh? We've been long after you, and now you must be off with us directly. Here's your passport," said one of the officers pointing to the warrant. The young man uttered a deep groan, and sunk senseless on the sofa.

(The officers convey him away. The doctor quits him.)

The papers of the next morning explained all. The young man "living in Regent Street, in first-rate style," who had summoned me to visit him, had committed a series of forgeries, for the last eighteen months to a great amount, and with so much secresy and dexterity, as to have, till then, escaped detection; and had, for the last few months, been enjoying the produce of his skilful villany in the style I witnessed-passing himself off, in the circles where he associated, under the assumed name of Glou cester. The immediate cause of his arrest was forging the acceptance of an eminent mercantile house to a bill of exchange for 457. Poor fellow! it was short work with him afterwards. He was arraigned at the next September ,sessions of the Old Bailey-the case clearly proved against him-he offered no defence-was found guilty, and sentenced to death. Shortly after this, while reading the papers one Saturday morning, at breakfast, my eye lit on the usual gloomy annunciation of the recorder's visit to Windsor, and report to the king in council of the prisoners found guilty at the last Old Bailey Sessions "all of whom," the paragraph concluded, "his majesty was graciously pleased to respite during his royal pleasure, except E- T on whom the law is left to take its course next Tuesday morning."

Transient, and any thing but agreeable, as had been, my intimacy with this miserable young man, I could not read this intelligence with indifference. He whom I had so very lately seen surrounded with the life-bought luxuries of a man of wealth and fashion, was now shiverIng the few remaining hours of his life

in the condemned cells of Newgate!The next day (Sunday) I entertained a party of friends at my house to dinner; to which I was just sitting down when one of the servants put a note into my hand, of which the following is a copy:

"The chaplain of Newgate is earnestly resquested by E- T (the young man sentenced to suffer for forgery next Tuesday morning), to present his humble respects to Dr. and solicit the favour of a visit from him in the course of to-morrow (Monday). The unhappy convict, Mr. believes, has something on his mind, which he is anxious to communicate to Dr. Newgate, September 28th, 182—.”

I felt it impossible, after perusing this note, to enjoy the company I had invited. What on earth could the culprit have to say to me ?-what unreasonable request might he put me to the pain of refusing ?-ought I to see him at all?were questions which I incessantly proposed to myself during the evening, but felt unable to answer. I resolved, however, at last, to afford him the desired interview, and be at the cell of Newgate in the course of the next evening, unless my professional engagements prevented me, About six o'clock, therefore, on Monday, after fortifying myself with a few extra glasses of wine-for why should I hesitate to acknowledge that I apprehended much distress and agitation from witnessing so unusual a scene ?—I drove to the Old Bailey, drew up opposite the governor's house, and was received by him very politely. He dispatched a turnkey to lead me to the cell where my late patient, the soi-disant Mr. Gloucester, was immured in chilling expectancy of his fate.

Surely horror has appropriated these gloomy regions for her peculiar dwellingplace! Who that has passed through them once can ever forget the long, narrow, lamp-lit passages-the sepulchral silence, save where the ear is startled with the clangour of iron doors closing harshly before and behind-the dimlyseen spectral figure of the prison-patrol gliding along with loaded blunderbussand the chilling consciousness of being surrounded by so many fiends in human shape-inhaling the foul atmosphere of all the concentrated crime and guilt of the metropolis! My heart leaped within me to listen even to my own echoing footfalls; and I felt several times inclined to return without fulfilling the purpose of my visit.

(To be concluded in our next.)

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THIS interesting relic of monastic times is described at some length in Mr. Drakard's valuable History of Stamford :The monastery of Black Monks, or Benedictines, dedicated to St. Leonard, was situated about a quarter of a mile east of Stamford, near the river. The order was founded by St. Benedict,† and was brought into England in 596, by Austin. This building was begun about the year 658, at the same time with Peterborough Minster; but was finished somewhat earlier, and was the oldest conventual church in all South Mercia. It was founded by St. Wilfrid, the elder, who, being educated at Lincoln, gave it to the Benedictine monks of that city.

Wilfrid was born in the year 634, and displaying in his childhood an uncommon propensity to knowledge, he was sent, under the patronage of Eanfleda, wife to Oswi, King of the Northumbrians, to the convent of Lindisfarne, to be taught *St. Leonard, a Frenchman, born at Le Nans, was made bishop of Limousin, and obtained per

mission of the King to set all captives free whom

he visited. He is, therefore, still looked upon year 570.

as the patron of prisoners. He died about the

+ St. Benedict was an Italian, and born at Mercia He is considered the father of all the monks in Europe and until the reign of William the Conqueror, his was the only order in the whole nation. Among other monkish legends it is said, that, when the Goths invaded Italy, and set fire to his cell, the flames burnt round him in a circle, and would not touch him: and that, being afterwards put into a hot oven, be still remained unhurt, his clothes not being even singed. He died March the 21st, 542.

and educated. There he was the disciple of Cedda, a monk, who had been chamberlain to the king. After this, he travelled into Italy and Gaul, and at his return was made preceptor to Prince Alhfrid, Oswi's son. This prince, to reward his care and piety, gave him lands at Stamford, in Lincolnshire, to maintain a monastery of ten families. Here he erected the priory to the honour of St. Leonard. He afterwards founded a considerable monastery at Ripon, in Yorkshire. In 669, Wilfrid was consecrated Archbishop of York, and in 678, expelled from that see; but travelling the next year to Rome, on pleading his cause before Pope Agatho, he was acquitted and restored. In 691, he was again expelled; and in 703, taking another journey to Rome, and making his appeal to Pope John VI., he was a second time restored to his bishopric. He afterwards became possessed of some property at Oundle, where he died in 709.

In 1082, the monastery was rebuilt by William the Conqueror and William Kairliph, Bishop of Durham, who gave it to the priory and convent of that place.

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The side aisles are both destroyed: these, when standing, made an extensive front, which, doubtless, was a beautiful specimen of workmanship. According to Mr. Peck, it was also twice its present length, and even then beyond the nave ascended the steeple, which

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