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FOETET. From the Monthly Magazine. THE.FAR HOME. I look’d on the bright and burning sun, . When he set beneath the wave, And red clouds o’er the dark earth hung Like banners o’er a grave: Tii#i ocean in its farthest mound, Had a wild and fiery hue, And l thought I heard a living sound From lands I might not view. It spoke not to my inward thought, As if on land or sek, Thero lay the home my heart had sought, Or where its rest could be; And I felt as if their hopes were gone, That sooth’d my heart before; When I thought the sense of wrong Might be lost on some far shore. I watch’d till the stare of evening shone In the blue vault of the sky— But I felt my spirit dark and lone, ’Mid their infinity: For in that vast and glorious shrine Where a thousand bright worlds hung, Could 1 single out that world of mine To wliich my thoughts bad. clung ? I turn’d me bn the earth again— To a lone and Silent deh, " ' „ - '* Where a fountain hash’d the deepless brain, And its gushing waters fell: , A quiet grave was at my feet, Where one I had cherish’d slept; And the calm of that resting place was sweet As the thoughts of him I wept. And wben then found my heart its home? ’Mid the bright isles of the main ? Or, was it where whate’er may roam, Hath now no mark of pain ? Oh!’ wa3 it not in that quiet,place Where the suffering heart might see, The repose of that which bore the trace j Cjf its own mortality ? I THE INVOCATION, 1 BY MRS. HEMANS. Answer me, bummg\stars of night! 'yhere is the spirit gone .That pass’d the reach of human sight , Even as a breeze hath flown ? And the Stars answered me—■** Wo roll In light and power on high; But of the never-dying soul. Ask things that cannot die.” chainlcss Wind, ndcrerfree; place can’st find, . and sea? ' ur’d in reply— 4 I hive cross’d, tiks .and billows high, ^fYiat thou hast lost.” ar/at gorgeously-repose iwWWtiiSnd the setting sun; V -Aafcworl hava yoa homo for those •fl Whose earthly race has run ? The blight clouds answer’d—We depart;, We vanish from the sky— Ask what is deathless in thy heart, For that which cannot die 1” , Speak then, thou Voice of God within, Thou of the deep lo w tone t Answer me through life’s restless din, Where is the spirit flown? And the Voice answered—“Be thou still! Enough to know is given; • Clouds, Winds, and Stars their task fulfil, . Thau is, to trust in Heaven!” The following lines are from.the pen of Edward Morton. The Lady to whom he was early attached was married to another: Morton was present at the wedding, and was never seen to smile afterwards. The lady it is 3aid was unhappy in her union, and did not survive many years after it. Morton died at Corfu—a portrait oi the lady was found in his port-folio, wrapped up in these lines. I saw thee wedded—thou didst go Within the sacred aisle, Thy young cheek in a blushing glow, Betwixt a tear and smile. . Thy heart was glad in maiden glee, But he it lov’d so fervently Was faithless all the while, lhate him for the vow he spoke— I hate him for the vow he broke. I hid the love that could not die— 2 Its doubts and hopes and fears, And buried all my misery In secrecy and tears: And days pass’d on, and thon didst prove, The pangs of unrequited love, E’en in thy early years: And thou didst die,'so fair and good, In silence and in solitude! Whilst thou wert living, 1 did hide Affection’s secret pains; I’d not have shock’d thy modest pride For all the world contains. But thou hast .perish’d; and the fire That, often check’d, could not expire, Again, unbidden, reigns.— It is no crime to speak my vow, For ah 1 thou canst not hear it now. Thou sleep’st, beneath thy lowly stoDe, That dark and dreamless sleep; And he, thy lov’d and chosen one, Why gees he not to weep? He .does not kneel .where l have knelt, He cannot feel what I have felt— The anguish still and deep, The painful thoughts of what has been, The canker-worm that is not seen. But I, as o’er the dark blue wave * Unconsciously 1 glide, My thoughts are bov’ring o’er thy grave, My soul is by thy side. There is ono voice that wails thee yet— One heart that never can forget The visions that have died; And i Adout sh-hs jn a path that showed called ’legitimacy ’ to so Extract from Sir Walter Scott’s EMPEROR NAPOL The external appearance of was not imposing at the first glance, his sta ture being only five feet six inches English. His person, thin in youth, and somewhat corpulent in age, was rather delicate than robust in outward appearance, but cast in the mould most capable of enduring priva tion and fatigue. He rode ungracefully, and without the command of his horse, which distinguishes a perfect cavalier, so that he showed to disadvantage ’when riding beside such a horseman as Murat. But he was fearless, sat firm in his seat, rode with rapidity, and wa3 capable of enduring the exercise for a longer time than most men. We have already mentioned his indifference to the quality of his food, and his power of enduring abstinence. A morsel of food and a flask of Wine hung at his saddle bow used in ids earlier campaigns, to support him for days. In his latter wars, he used a car riage more frequently; not, as has been surmised, from any particular illness, but from feeling in a frame so constantly in ex ercise, the premature effects of age. The countenance of Napoleon is familiar to almost every one from description, and from the portraits which arc found every where. The dark-brown hair bore little marks of the attentions of the toilette. The shape of the countenance approached more than is usual in the human race, to a square. His eyes were gray, and full of expression; the pupils rather large, and the eyebrows not/4 T ery strongly marked. The brow and upper ^part of the countenance were rather of a stern character. His nose and mouth were beautifully formed. The upper lip was very short. The teeth were indifferent, but were little shown in speaking. His smile possessed uncommon sweetness, and is stated to have been irresistible. The complexion was a clear olive, otherwise in general colourless. The prevailing cha racter of his countenance was grave, even to melancholy, but without any signs of se verity or violence. After death, the pla cidity and dignity of expression which con tinued to occupy the features, rendered them eminently beautiful, and the admira tion of all who looked on them. Such was Napoleon’s exterior. His per sonal and private character was decidedly amiable, excepting in one particular. His temper, when he received, or thought he received provocation, especially if of a per sonal character, was warm and vindictive. He was, however, placable in the case even of his enemies, providing that they submit ted to his mercy; but he bad not that spe cies of generosity which respects the sin cerity of a manly and fair opponent. On the other hand, no one was a more liberal rewarder of the attachment of his friends. He was an excellent husband, a kind rela tion, and, unless when State policy inter vened, a most affectionate brother. - ^gene ral Gourgaud, whose communications^werc not in every case to Napoleon’s advantage, states him to have been the best of masters, labouring to assist all bis domestics when ever it lay in his power, giving them the highest credit for such talents as they actu ally possessed, and imputing, in some in stances, good qualities to such as had them not.-r? There was gentleness, and even sen ility in his character. He was affected when he rode over the fields of battle which ris ambition had strewed with the dead and the dying, seemed not only desirous to re lieve the victims, issuing for that purpose directions which too often were not, and could not be obeyed, but subject to the in fluence of that more acute and imaginative species of sympathy which is termed sensi bility. He mentions a circumstance which indicates a deep sense of feeling. As he passed over a field of battle in Italy, he saw houseless dog lying on the body of bis slain master. The creature came towards them, then returned to the dead body, moaned over it pitifully, and seemed to ask their assistance.—“ Whether it were the feeling of the moment,” continued Napo leon, •* the scene, the hour, or the circum stance itself, I was never so deeply affected by any thing which I have seen upon a field of battle. That man, I thought, has per haps had a house, friends, comrades, and here he lies deserted by every one but his dog. How mysterious are the impressions to which we are subject! I was in the ha bit, without emotion, of ordering battles which must decide the fate of a campaign, and could look with a dry eye on the exe cution of manoeuvres which must be attend ed with much loss; and here I was moved nay, painfully affected, by the cries and the grief of a dog. It is certain that at that moment I would have been more accessible to a suppliant enemy, and could better un derstand the conduct of Achilles in restoring Honn - 1; as we commenced, were rather those of the \ and Rachambeau’s armies had united, and sovereign and politician than of the mdivi-, were pressing towards Virginia; feat de dual.' Wisely it is written, that if we say J Barns, with seven sail of the line, had left we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the j Rhode Island, to unite with de Grasse ; that truth is not in us. It was the inordinate the British fleet of 25 sail of the line, had force of ambition which made him the left New York with an army of 10,000 men scourge of Europe; it was his efforts to dis-1 on their way to the Chesapeake to relieve guise that selfish principle, that made him i Cornwallis; that a reinforcement of ships combine fraud with force; and establish a j were on their way to New York from Eng- rcgular system for deceiving those whom land. Should they arrive in time it would he could not subdue. Had his natural dis- j place the respective fleets on a balance, but position been coldly cruel, like that of Oc- 1 de Grasse was in possession of the ground iavius, or had he given way to the warmthj between the English fleet and army. In of his temper, like other despots, his pri- ! this interesting crisis, on which the fate of a vate history, as well as that of his cam paigns, must have been written in letters of blood. If, instead of asserting that he ne ver committed a crime, he had limited his self-eulogy to asserting that in attaining and wielding supreme power, he had resisted young empire was in some measure depend ing, and where so many chances hung in dreaded poise, our anxiety was excessive, and our hopes and fears predominated in quick succession. We weighed probabili ties, balanced possible vicissitudes,dissected the temptation to commit many, he could the best maps, finally resulting in a dishear- not have been contradicted : and this is no spiall praise. His system of government was false in the extreme. It comprehended the slavery of France, and the subjugation of the world. But to the former he did much to requite them for the jewel of which he robbed them. He gave them a.regular government, schools, institutions, courts of justice, and code of laws. In Italy, hs rule was equal ly splendid and beneficial. The good ef fects which arose to other countries from tening foreboding, that the English fleet would intercept de Barras at the Capes of Virginia, thus gain a superiority, and with their wonted bravery and nautical skill, ur ged by despair, dash into the bay, close with and destroy the French fleet; land their army, and break up Washington’s quarters. Thus our unhappy country would again bleed at every vein,and the war be com menced de novo with fresh vigor, on the part of our implacable enemy. As Franklin was the primary cause of his reign and character, begin also to be feiitjlproducing this bold enterprise, by his great ae visions ui&i nave cueu ; i aye thy form is buried there, jubt, an anguish, a despair! [It will be many years before notices like the en suing off he exalted person to whom they relate, will lose their interest; and even a slight variation of the language wfllifor a long time serve to give “the thrice told tale '* a new attraction.-—Tho moral re flection to which it gives rise, of how little value or truth can be attached to the representations of a character made by those interestedly opposed to them, is also important and useful.—A few years since, and the invention of the English was racked j to present his character in a rep uleive shapejr—and now one of their most reputable writers is recording it for posterity, with we believe still a lack of jus tice, as little short of perfectly amiable and virtuous. The fact is, they could not endure tlio prospect of ierent self-raised greatness, conducting a nation r $i ' though unquestionably they were not of the kind which he intended to produce. His invasions tending to reconcile the discords which existed in many states between fee governor and the governed, by teaching them to unite together against a common enemy, have tended to loosen the feudal yoke, enlightened the mind both of prince and people, and led to many admirable re sults, which will not be less durably advan tageous, that they have arisen and are aris ing slowly, and without contest. In bidding adieu to the subject of Napo leon, we are called upon to observe that he was a man tried io the two extremities of the most exalted power and the most ineffable calamity ; and if he occasionally appeared presumptuous when surrounded by the arm ed force of half a world, or unreasonably querulous when, imprisoned within the nar row limits of St. Helena, it is scarce within the capacity of those whose steps have nev er led them beyond the middle path of life, to estimate either the strength of the temp tations to which he yielded, or the force of mind which he opposed to those which he was able to resist. From the Journal of a young American, then travelling in Europe, of Nov. 19, 1782 Immediately after my visit to Rousseau’s tomb, at Vide de Park, in Picardy, I return ed to Paris, and this day dined and spent the evening with the immortal Franklin at Passy. Arriving at an early hour, I discov ered the Philosopher in a distant room read ing, in the exact position he is represented in an excellent engraving, his left arm res ting on a table and his chin on his right hand thumb. I was soon conducted to him and was cordially received, as usual. From a long habit of mixing with courtiers and men. of eminence, as well in America as in Europe, he possesses an urbanity of-man ners in connection with his venerable locks suspended over his shoulders, and his per sonal dignity, which commands reverence and respect; and yet so natural and fascin ating is his deportment, that I always find myself perfectly at ease in his presence. Although he loves adulation, he woos it, and hugs it to his heart in a manner unperceiy- ed, and therefore diminishes naught from his sterling merit Not so with the vain influence at this court, seconded by our steady advocate and brave defender, the po pular Lafayette, in both countries, it can be easily perceived how strong must have been his excitement in our alternate views of pro bable results. At times his philosophy seem ed to abandon him in gloomy despondency, but on turning the scales in another direc tion, his hopes would flash into a conviction of a complete success. Although in his 76th year, yet his whole machiney appeared in a state of elasticity, and in active play, so much was he exhilarated while hope prepon derated. Precisely at eleven o’clock, Dr. Bancroft and myself returned to Paris in gloomy despondency, sighing over the mise ries of our bleeding country. At the dawn of the ensuing morning a tremendous rap ping aroused me from restless slumbers; but, gracious God, how was 1 delighted and astonished in receiving the following circu lar from Dr. Franklin, with his congratula tion in French, copied with a copying ma chine, invented by the ingenius Watt, of Birmingham, the same man who has lately invented a steam engine, so much talked of. TRANSLATION. Copy of a letter from the Compte de Ver- gennes, Prime Minister of France, to Dr. Franklin, dated Versailles, 19th Nov. 1781, 11 o’clock at night, (the precise moment we quit his house, and exactly one month from the day of capitulation.) Sir : I cannot better express my gratitude for the news you often communicate to me, than in making you acquainted that the Duke de Lauzin arrived this evening with the agreeable news that the combined ar mies of France and America, have forced Gen. Cornwallis to capitulate. The Eng lish garrison came out'from Yorktown the 19th of October, with honors of war, and laid down their arms as prisoners. About 6000 troops, 1800 sailors, 22 stand of co lors, and 170 pieces of cannon, 75 of which are brass j are the trophies which signalize this victory. Besides, a ship of 50 guns, which was burnt, also a frigate and a great number of transports. J’ail 1’honneur d’etre, &c. DE VERGENNES. A son Excellence le Dr. Franklin, &c. The same dsfy I waited on his Excellency with many Americans and French, to offer our mutual congratulations—he appeared in an ecstacy of joy, observing “ there is no losophers than manhood. “ Love,” too, it been observed wisely, “ is always near er allied to melancholy than to jollity^r th.” The instances recorded of the jtrtf- tfand most exalted passion are amorf'g the sedate temperaments. The souls that feed upon themselves, that keep back from the multitude, that cannot put up with com mon place, but aspires to idealities and crea tions of their own ; these have generally the earliest, tho roost durable, and the deepest impressions from love. The Bachelor’s Will.—I, Loungeabout Longdelay, being sound both in body and mind, but apprehensive that I shall soon quit this forlorn state ,of celibacy, for the indulgence of a kind virtuous helpmate, do make and ordain this nly last will and testa ment.—Imprimus.—I give and bequeath to my good friend, Mr. W. .M. all the manor of Longdelay, consisting of several farms and messuages, caJled and known by the name of Doubts, Fears, Bashfulness, Irresolution, Uncertainty, Fickleness, Ob stinacy &c. being for the most part waste and barren ground, and much overgrown with briars, and thistles ; but capable by proper management, of cultivation and im provement. Item.—I give and bequeath unto my good friend, Mr. J. A. my dwelling house and cottage, called by the name of Vain Hopes, situate, lying, and being in High street, in the county of Imagination ; rising to the height of seven stories. Having a fair gar den and a prospect before it, and a large number of windows in the front, but without any outlet behind; nor having any conve nience of social nature ; to have and to d the said dwelling-house unto the day of marriage. Item.—I give and bequeath unto my good friend, Mr. W. B. all my woodland, called and known by the name of Ambiguity; which is well planted with puns, conundrums, quirks, and brakes, and- thickets of dark unintelligible incomprehensibilities. And lastly, I give and bequeath all the rest of my bachelor goods and effects, con sisting of large treasure of whims, fancies, megrims, freaks, reveries, projects,schemes and designs, to my aforesaid good friend, Mr. J. A. whom l constitute and appoint sole executor of this my last will and testa ment, only desiring that he would put a fan cy or two into the hands of all old bache lors, that they may follow me into the bles sed land of matrimony. boaster, trumpeting his own fame above all the fraudulent men who float upon borrow-. v ^ WH I ed plumes. Such men are always detected;! parallel in history of two entire armies be soon sink into contempt, and hold a short ing taken from the same enemy in anyone run with posterity. But the name of Frank lin will freshen with posterity, and increase in fame, through a long line of generations, while America shall bear a name. To re sume—-after detailing the traitorous conver sation of Silas Dean, at Brussels, where he war.” The American character now rose to an enviable height. The joy of all classes of people was excessive, and Franklin adored Paris was brilliantly illuminated three sue cessive nights, on this glorious occasion Too Much Truth.—If you see a man and woman, with little or no occasion, often find ing fault, and correcting one another in com pany, you may be sure they are man and wife. 1 If you see a gentleman and lady in the same coach in profound silence, the one looking out at one side, the other at (he oth er side, never imagine they mean any harm to one another; they are already honestly married. If you see a lady accidentally let fall a glove or handkerchief# and a gentleman that is next to, her kindly telling her of it, that she may gather it up, they are man and'wife. If you see a lady whose beauty and merit attract the eyes of all the company, except a certain gentleman^ who speaks to her in a rough accent, not fat .all affected by her charms, you may be surest is her husband- If you see a gentleman' that is courteous, and obliging, and good-natured to every bo dy, except a certain female who dives under the same roof with him, to whom hp is un reasonably cross and ill-natured, depend up on it that female is his wife. If you see a male and female, continually jarring, checking and thwarting each other, yet under the kindest terms and appellations imaginable, as dear, &c. they are man and wife. vegetates, and is buried in forgetfulness and j which settled our controversy with England contempt, he asked me if I knew he was a j definitively. On my return to Nantes via musician, and then conducted me across the i Orleans, travelling for 150 mdes on the room to an instrument of his own invention fixed as a harpsichord.. On my intimating a wish to see him perform, he immediately placed himself before it with his habitual condescension, touching theend$ of his fin gers on a moistened piece of sponge, and commenced playing, with his right foot bearing upon a treadle fixed in the man ner of a spinning wheel, which turaed-a set of musical glasses, presenting their edges in perpendicular positions, in the shape of sau cers graduated of different sizes, so as to produce all the requisite tones. He touch ed the edges with the ends of his fingers, playing a Scotch pastoral tune, in sweet The anecdote at once shows that Napoleon possessed a heart amenable to humane feel ings, and that they were usually in total sub jection to the stern precepts of military stoi cism. It was his common and expressive phrase, that the heart of a politician should bo in his head, but his feelings sometimes surprised him in a gentler mood. From one end of Napoleon’s works to the other, he has scarcely allowed himself to be guilty of a single fault, or a single folly, excepting of that kind which, arising from an over confidence-and generosity, etly claim as merits, while they e them up as matters of censure. Hiis own word we must believe n a faultless and impeccable one that told his own story 'gard to truth and candour, reputation was concerned. ofjBonaparte, we conclude banks of the Loire, the most delightful country in Europe, I found all the cities on my way in a blaze of illumination, and Nantes Jin the midst of it on my arrival.—Al. Daily Advertiser. First Love.—Talk of first love as the .world ma>, we never experience in a second any thing half so sweet. The object belo ved the second time may be more amiable ; may be more deserving affection, but in the first there is a novelty of circumstance and feeling an untasted cup of joy, which in a repetition falls short of its original flavor. We are in a second affection, going over a the body of ‘Hector to the fears of Priam.” delicate melody, which thrilled to my very! path already trodden; in the first we ex soul. Besides, the novel spectacle was highly gratifying to my heightened Ameri can pride, to contemplate a native son of my native state, a-distinguished philosopher and ^tng again exhaled, statesman, in his 76th year, exhibiting on an instrument of his own invention, which he has named Harmonica. In the evening we were joined by the celebrated Dr. Ban croft, also a native of Massachusetts; a dis tinguished chemist and politician ; a sound whig, although a resident in London. It is supposed he is an agent, sub rosa, of the British ministry, feeling out the road to peace.. - v •> ;.■ .* ;.v, * /' i--, '■ Our conversation turned principally on the interesting subject of the grand military combination of America and France to sub due the army of Cornwaliis, in. last information up to that even de Grasse had entered the with 24 sail of the.line ; that! pnia. Our [g)was, that Jheasapeake Washington’s Ta plore a new track covered with wild roses and spontaneous luxuriance, feat diffuses pdours which lose of theitfreshness on be- We- always know we are in love the second time, from our for mer experience. The first time we are no vices, and receive eur maiden impressions gilded by brighter hopes, and hallowed by a sanctity that casts almost a religious holi ness over them. Repetition of love grows more and more sensual; it is iff JUjvth’s first affection only that a love Idee that of an gels is exchanged ; etheriw, unsfeiried, lucid with heavenly purity. First love is like youth, virtuous, full of generous impul ses and exalted feelings. In successive visita tion it becomes corrupted, as in advanced years we get more ana more the creatures of circumstance, interest and the w&rld’s custom. Youth is infinitely nearer tho_ op timum contemplated by i Ptc, A short time ago a cat came into the shop of a respectable grocer in St. Frahcis Xavier st. and perching upon his counter, looked at him as much as tS’ say “ are you wanting a cat.” The shopkeeper, who was rather annoyed with rats, accepted the offer, and puss was speedily installed in all the honours of guardian of the back yard and shop. One day last week she came into the store dragging by one tail fiVe live rats, and when she had got them into the middle of the floor, she set upon them and killed them at her leisure. * Not the least surpris ing part of the business is that the captive quadrupeds were all fastened together by the tails with straw so firmly that, although* when tho cat released them on the shop floor, they pulled with all their might, but but were not able to extricate themselves; This has been told us by the shopkeeper himself.—English paper. Parliamentary Pun.—One, sometimes hears a good thing said in the Gallery,‘as well as iff the body of the House of Com mons.—While Mr. Whitmore and Sir F. Burdett were conversing upon the difficulty of getting competent Members to inquire into the Water Companies, a Gallery Mem ber humourously observed—** Why, you have only two Commoners iff your whole body fit for this water task, namely—Foun tain Wilson, and Spring Rice. Anecdote of Dr. Baillie.—1 ted physician, (not more famed \ cal skill, than for his strong, cor mode of displaying it,) being called in tend Frederick Reynolds during a n< complaint,—the dramatist (anxious to as certain fe4 ta»S£ of his disease) said, “ Pray, doctor, doyou not think 1 write too much for my constitution ?” “ No,” replied Bailiie: t: but you do for your reputation.” Sheridan, on being told of this blunt opinion, remarked, “ For this wholesome advice, both towards patient and public, he hoped Reynolds offered a double fee.” mb lebra- 'I!*'*. «• 1- Ib