is. On the other hand, it is to be said, that the ravages of the plague are confined in a great measure to the various capitals of the Turkish empire-they are less frequent, though little less destructive, in the villages of the interior. But the great consolation which supports a Turk against the terror of this irresistible calamity, is well known to be his belief in predestination. That belief, when sincere, goes far in preventing the anticipation of misery, in mitigating its actual tortures, and in deadening the influence of "that greatest of all fears, the fear of death."

*

It would seem singular if in the list of Oriental virtues, I should place that of humanity; yet I have good reason to believe, and good authority for asserting, that in their private transactions and treatment of each other the very Turks themselves, blood-stained as they are, and of proverbial ferocity, possess a character the very reverse of this, highly humane and charitable. The fact is, that we are acquainted with this extraordinary people only by their wars; and chiefly by their wars against Christians; we know them only by their fury, and their fanaticism; by their crimes and their madness-Their very name conveys to us only the idea of a monster raging for massacre--We know little of their friendship or their domesticity.-We have, indeed, from travellers, frequent acknowledgments of their amicable disposition to them-and receive from merchants the constant assurance of their strict honesty in pecuniary transactions-but we learn little of their privacy-of their peaceful and passionless intercourse with one another.-In forming our opinion, then, on what to some may appear uncertain, let us be in some measure guided by what we have had the opportunity of observing. I speak of the notorious humanity of Orientals in general, and Turks in particular, to animals-The stork is sacred, and builds its nest with undisturbed liberty on the palace of the insolent Pasha, on the shattered columns of Paganism, or the inviolable temple of the Prophet.-The camel, too, is sacred, and is therefore very rarely ill-treated; and if a Turk could any how be induced to believe that there exists a people, among whom

* I refer with pleasure to a very beautiful passage in the second volume of Anastasius, p. 405.

VOL. II.

it is necessary to enact laws to prevent the exercise of barbarity on the animals that are serving them, he would pronounce them to be a horde of savage and uncivilized Christians. Let us not, then, ourselves be too hasty and universal in our condemnation of a people who have confessedly some virtue-is it natural to suppose that those who are superstitiously watchful over the welfare of brutes should be utterly void of love and mercy towards their fellow men? Because their fanaticism has sometimes excited them to the commission of barbarities almost portentousbecause while under the influence of religious fury they cease for a time to be men-have we a right to conclude that their repose is only the slumber of a savage—a state of insensibility and torpor, in which they are retained only by the want of victims; and out of which they are roused only to renew their massacres? We have no right, from what we have heard, and read, and observed, to draw this harsh conclusion-Evidence unites with reason to convince us that the occasional effervescence of fanatic rage, is not inconsistent with the habitual exercise of many domestic virtues. Let us believe that hospitality, generosity, charity, and forgiveness, are not uncommonly found even in the breast of a Turk-let us believe so-for the love of truth and justice, for the indulgence of our human feelings, and for the consolation of philanthropy.

LADIES,

APOLOGY TO THE LADIES.

We, the Ten in Council assembled, most humbly request your forgiveness for our neglect. We come before you, like the Commons of old, "upon the knees of our hearts:" we supplicate your pardon, as knowing that we have transgressed, not by sins of commission, but of omission; as knowing, too, that the best atonement for a fault is a frank confession of it, and that men need never be ashamed of making an apology to you. It is neither a reflection upon their courage, nor a degradation of their dignity. Although the days of chivalry are gone, and we

have not even the honour of modern knighthood, we yet feel that to throw ourselves upon your mercy, and yield unconditional submission to your will, must be rather a source of pride, than of debasement.

Yes, Ladies! we acknowledge that we have not lately paid sufficient attention to you: we have not sufficiently consulted your tastes, or troubled ourselves about your concerns. (Troubled ourselves!-once more we beg pardon in a parenthesis-we meant to say, amused ourselves.) We plead guilty. If you condemn us, we shall not say one word against the justice of the sentence; we shall only speak in mitigation of punishment. We also feel, that the crime of neglecting you, like most other human offences, might bring with it its own proper retribution: since the severest punishment, which you could possibly inflict, would be to withdraw from us the light of your countenances, and the encouragement of your smiles.

But what excuse have we to offer? Shall we say, that we have been constantly employed in things of greater importance? Ah, Ladies, we hear you exclaim, "Shocking!" "monstrous !" "abominable !" "Of greater importance?" "Than what? than our interests and concerns? The punishment ought to be trebled instead of mitigated, for such a Gothic and insolent excuse."

Fortunately for us, however, such is not altogether our apology. Nor has our guilt been so heinous, as it may appear. The Female Council has been already instituted more peculiarly for your use, for the more constant examination and superintendence of your affairs. The characters, which compose it, have been delineated for the purpose of being approved by you in the first instance; and this delineation, if we could by any possibility have found room, we should indubitably have inserted in our present report.

There was, in fact, an equal division among the members of our Council upon the question. There were five against five. We shall not mention the names on either side-and for two reasons. We wish to afford you an opportunity of exercising your almost unerring ingenuity of conjecture and we would not rashly expose any of our

fraternity to your heavy displeasure. Now you may suspect, but you cannot be quite certain.

The President, Ladies, gave his casting vote against you: for you must know, when the division is equal, that the President has two votes. We have the less hesitation in mentioning this fact; both because we are convinced, that when you shall have heard the motives of his decision, you will not retain your resentment against him for a moment; and because we are, in truth, all implicated in the same fault, as he brought us all at last round to his opinion.

Gentlemen," said he, "we cannot insert all. The question is, between an article of immediate, temporary, and fleeting interest; or the particulars of an institution, to be generally devoted to the service of our countrywomen. I think I can decide for the former, without any impeachment of my gallantry. I decide for it, because its interest is temporary, immediate, and fleeting. If we lose the opportunity now, we lose it for ever. But it is not so with the latter. Whatever concerns the Ladies must be acceptable to all readers at all times. Here months, and even years, can create no shadow of difference. Their affairs must be of unfading and never-failing interest: until their influence shall cease to exist among a free, generous, and polished nation; until the beauty of English women shall cease to be conspicuous, or their mental graces to maintain their present superiority. And when shall that be?" "Never," we replied, with one voice; and gave our hearty and unanimous assent to the opinion of our President.

Much more was afterwards said to the same purpose. We have a thousand pretty things, at this particular moment, at the very tip of our pen ;-but they would look like adulation-and we consider you, Ladies, beings far too lovely and too valuable to be spoiled by flattery. Therefore we are silent.

For the rest, we humbly beg permission to dedicate to you the following vision, which will prove, that with all our apparent negligence, we think of you even in our sleep. And now, Ladies,-to borrow the last words of a parting theatrical address:- "we take our leave of you for the present month, and most respectfully bid you farewell!-"

THE CESTUS OF VENUS,

A VISION.

"Which, tho' to the eye,

"Idlesse it seem, hath its morality."-Childe Harold.

FULL many a night.in visions brings
A chaos of fantastic things,

Which o'er the soul at random pass,
Like figures on the magic glass;
Nor relative, nor like to aught

That we have said, or done, or thought;
Disjointed, strange, grotesque, and wild,
As fancies of a feverish child:

Recall'd as morning dawns, with pain,
And dimly by the troubled brain:
For then when Sleep with leaden sway
O'erpowers the mortal mould of clay,
The quick warm spirit ranges free,
Grown wanton with its liberty;
And grasps far more than eye or ear,
Of waking man shall see or hear!
Yet oft our dreams, or dark, or fair,
A deep prophetic import bear;
With indistinct and shadowy light
Presenting to our inward sight,
What joys, or ills, in life await :-
The mirrors of our future fate!
And oft, tho' night calls forth to view,
Forms all too bright for reason's hue,
Yet there the mind may fondly trace
Its dearest day-dreams for their base;
Such visions as of radiant birth
Blend man with spirits, heav'n with earth,
Not wholly false-yet undefin'd,
Lawless, and mix'd of either kind!

Such dream was mine.-I late had been
In midnight pleasure's laughing scene,
Where the light dance, and converse gay,
And beauty sped old Time away,
For happy hearts, that knew to wear
Some talisman 'gainst cank'ring care.
And still the witcheries of that hour
Came o'er my soul with spells of pow'r.
Now, ere I slept, before mine eyes
The self-same scenes again would rise;