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presents the sublimest scene that nature and art ever formed. I often enjoy this prospect in a fine evening,

“Quando nel ciel parean le stelle. "'* A view so romantic, joined to the bracing influence of the frosty atmosphere, always elevates my spirits and invigorates my nerves. The moon silvers the peaks and precipices which the mist leaves visible, and twinkles with all the vivacity of the clear cold air in a winter evening; while her beams, piercing the fleecy vapour, give it a sort of filmy transparency, resembling the finest veil of silver gauze.

The beams of the Queen of Night are generally in these evenings shaded by a silvery haze, through which twinkle the countless host of "softly burning stars." I often watch the little fleecy clouds scattered over the horizon, and occasionally floating over the moon; and I recal to mind the exquisite description which Southey gives of one melting like a wreath of snow, till it was suspended

“In folds of wavy silver round, and clothed
The orb with richer beauties than her own,
Then passing, left her in her bright serene.”

* When evening star its milder lustre sheds. Politiano.


As cleapness requires attention and industry, the cleanness of ome savages must be the work of nature; and the dirtiness of thers must proceed from indolence counteracting nature. In 'act, cleanness is agreeable to all, and nastiness disagreeable: no person presers dirt; and even those who are the most accustomed to it, are pleased with a cleanly appearance in others.


Edinburgh, February 1, 1819. A WANT of due attention to cleanliness may be considered as characteristic of the lower orders of the Scotch. Let a stranger walk through

the narrow streets of “ Auld Reekie,” and he will see filth and misery combined in perfection. The poor children are dressed in tattered weeds; they go barefoot in all weathers, and a man may experience every variety of climate in one day at Edinburgh! I have already noticed the amazing height of the houses in the old town. Every story, it seems, is a complete house, occupied by a separate family; and the stair being common to them all, is generally in such a nasty condition that, (as Matt. Bramble says,) a man must tread with great circumspection to get safe with unpolluted shoes; however, (continues he) the inhabitants of Edinburgh find a particular pleasure in breathing their own atmosphere, which is always impregnated with stercoraceous effluvia! The situation of the families above, should fire break out in the lower stories, may, easily be


imagined, and I think with Bramble, that it would be a good plan to open a communication from one house to another on every story, by which people might fly from such a terrible visitation.

Few of the houses have that necessary article, a temple of Cloacina. The building in which Mrs. Campbell keeps her boarding house, has one temple to the entire edifice; but, to get at it, one is obliged to march down three pair of stairs, and open a duor with a large key; then walk down a dark subterraneous passage, open another door, and finally that of the water-closet, which emits “the vilest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril!”

I have before spoken of a dirty trick very common in the "gude city"-A few nights ago, I was walking towards home, with my umbrella hoisted, when I felt something heavy plump upon it from above; on looking at this present, I found it to be

you may imagine what!* I observe that Peter Pindar was correct, in his description of the travellers who

“ March'd thro' fair Edinburgh's Pactolean show'rs,
Which Cloaciua bountifully pours;
Those gracious show'rs that fraught with fragrance flow,
And gild, like gingerbread, the world below."

* The resident in Edinburgh runs a risk of suffering misfortunes similar to that which befel Diego (in Gil Blas,) who had his best clothes soiled, as he was proceeding at night to a fasbionable party: “ Je marchai à tâtons dans la rue, et j'avais fait peut-être la moitié de mon chemin, lorsque d'une fenêtre on me coiffa d'une cassolette qui ne chatouillait point l'odorat: je puis dire même que je n'en perdis rien, tant je fus bien ajusté!"

The execrable passarts were formerly quite n vogue in some parts

of the south of France; but this, with other benefits of the régime féolal, has been abolished by the revolution. The street population of Toulon and other cities, almost renewed since that eventful period, are now as decorous and cleanly, as they were formerly nasty and brutal.

Fondness for dress has of late years introduced itself into the Athens of the North; al. though one occasionally meets, in good company, a slovenly poet or dirty politician. There is as much vanity, and more pedantry, in slov. enliness, as in dandyism. The old cit worth a plum, is as vain of his thread-bare coat, as the fashionable lounger of his ruffles and diamonds.

The poet with his eye “ in a fine frenzy rolling," who goes into company dressed like old Briggs (in Cecilia,) is as vain of his appearance in a saloon, as the dandy who has no idea beyond the tying of his cravat, or the set of his clothes.

The letters of introduction which I brought to Edinburgh, were not of so much service as I anticipated. The Scotch are so distant with strangers, that it is very hard to become enfant de la maison. You cannot visit a family in the evening, unless you are very intimate indeed. . The usual visiting hours are from two till four P. M. when I have my classes to attend to,

and there is no pleasure whatever in calling

formally on “ fashionables” who are just out

of bed, and who have scarcely had time to pul off their night caps.

I sometimes spend the evening at the As. sembly room, which is a handsomely decorated saloon: its beautifully papered walls and its crimson hangings, give a magnificent effect to the splendid chandeliers, which hang from the ceiling like constellations of stars. An orches. tra is fitted up in a balcony over head, and be low the variety of dress and splendour of or. nament, present the idea of a parterre of flow. ers. The whole zest of this polite resort, consists in the agreeable Scotch airs which enliven the dulness of fashion,

“ And pour a torrent of sweet notes around,
Fast as the thirsting ear can drink the sound.”

Many of the young ladies who frequent this assembly, are very beautiful, and dress taste and elegance; but there are several obstinate adherents to the old school of fashion, who are attired in such an outlandish style, that it required a great effort to keep my

risi. ble muscles in order. Almost every one

of them had a different head-dress; many wear curonets of roses, or of ribbands-others are “coiffées à la Titus,” and some wear diamonds beautifully wrought with their hair.

A few days ago, I accompanied my friend Peter Hill to an oratorio at the Assembly rooms, the concert was finished with some of the Scotch national airs, which always afford me the greatest pleasure. Indeed, I have felt

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