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he was the means of causing the novelists of his time to infuse more power and animation into their productions. We heartily wish that his imitators, while through a want of genius they copy his faults instead of his beauties, would avoid the abuse which Hoffmann sometimes made of his talents, by indulging in personalities, and even by availing himself of natural deformities, to ridicule unoffending individuals. They should at least bear in mind, that Hoffmann possessed some extraordinary gifts of nature, to compensate for his irregularities. Upon the whole, notwithstanding his blemishes, a more entertaining and original writer scarcely ever existed.

Walter Scott was his favourite English author; and among the Germans, he adored Tieck; and Jean Paul, the most original, perhaps, of all writers, seems to have had considerable influence over his style.

In conclusion, we shall endeavour to convey an idea of Hoffmann's external appearance, which was not less extraordinary than his mental conformation. If we wished to express in a single word what Hoffmann resembled, we should say, a diminutive imp. He was almost a dwarf, and withal very thin. His countenance was of a round form; but he had so constantly habituated himself to distort his features, that he seemed to have a long face. His eyes, which were of a singular form, were thought to be small, because he kept them half closed; but, as soon as some idea actuated him, they expanded like the wings of a vulture, and shining in their peculiar colour of steel blue, shed an awful lustre. When he laughed, they had a serious cast; and when his look beamed cheerfully, there was no smile round his lips. It cannot, therefore, be wondered, if ladies of delicacy shuddered at his approach. His voice was at once hoarse and piercing in its sound, and his whole appearance was like one of the magical beings in his own tales. At the head of the edition of the " Rhapsodies," &c. of 1819, in two volumes, there is his portrait, drawn by himself, which, if not resembling in features, still conveys the true expression of his countenance. He died, as we have before stated, in the summer of the year 1822, in his 48th year, of an illness brought on by some vexations he had occasioned by his passionate temper.

Attacked by a lingering illness, his mind retained all its powerful faculties until his latest moments. He was dictating his last tale, called Der Feind (The Enemy), which he completed, two hours before his death. A few days before that event took place, a friend of his entered his room, and Hoffmann exclaimed cheerfully, "Don't you smell the roast meat?" alluding to the circumstance of his spine having just been seared, in order to re-animate the vital principle. Although his extremities had become lifeless by degrees, he still expressed a wish to live, even in this state, finding a sufficient enjoyment in the resources of his mind.

Hoffmann's life was wild, extravagant, and often blameable; but his death was grand and beautiful. He bore the cruel sufferings of a long and most painful illness with admirable composure of mind; and he showed, that if formerly he had been the slave of his senses, he was still able to master them like a hero. Now that he is gone, peace be to his ashes; and may his spirit have found that tranquillity above, which in vain he sought for below! J. G-NS.

THE INFANT LYRA.

Our readers will, doubtless, feel the same regret with ourselves at the departure of this interesting prodigy from the metropolis; wherever she goes, she will carry with her the admiration, and good wishes of all who have had the pleasure of hearing her performances; for our own parts, we never so forcibly felt the power of music, as when produced by the fairy touch of this little seraph. We cannot better describe the delicacy of her playing than by comparing its tones to those soft sounds which issue from the Eolian Harp, supposing it were possible to arrange them in an artificial movement. We would not infer from the comparison, that the Infant Lyra excels only in the softer strains; far from it, her forté movements are both animated and powerful: the expression of her countenance fully convinces every impartial observer that she was born to feel the influence and distinguish the beauties of this heart-touching science.

Hers is in truth the soul for music-from the early age of twelve months she has given tokens of that genius, which has since insured her so deserving a celebrity; when in her nurse's arms, she evinced enthusiasm upon hearing any instrument played, at the same time that her rapture was restrained by a strict attention to the music, discovering aversion for particular tunes: this induced her parents, when she attained the age of two years, to place her under the tuition of a professor of the harp, she having displayed a decided predilection for that instrument; and in little more than a year after, she made her first appearance at the Rotunda Concerts in Dublin.

The father of this infant is an Irish gentleman of good property, who has served in the army for many years; and her mother, a lady of firstrate accomplishments, nearly related to an old and highly respectable baronet's family in the same country; they have, notwithstanding, thought it their duty to realize an independence for this child by making her abilities public. It may perhaps be as well to observe that her whole family are musically inclined, and that her elder sister is also a very superior performer on the harp, so that she possesses advantages that are rarely within the reach of any individual, and we may therefore augur well of her future excellence.

We must conclude our observations by saying, that a large print, lately published, does not do justice to her very expressive countenance: indeed, the only portrait we have yet seen at all like the beautiful original, appeared in one of the Magazines for May.

We cannot but regret that any of our contemporaries should have made such illiberal animadversions on this child as have been laid before the public; we can only suppose that they speak merely from hearsay, having never availed themselves of that kindness and attention, which her father wished to show to every member of the press: though, not having visited London for many years, he was ignorant of many periodical publications; and we certainly think that it is unworthy the press to exert its powers against a child of only five years of age, as many of our contemporaries have done. The Infant plays upwards of six hun

dred pages of music from memory alone, having only just commenced learning her notes; and we hope to see her shortly return to town with increased attractions, presuming that the success she has already realized, will induce her father to visit the metropolis at the commencement of the succeeding season.

THE DUTY AND ADVANTAGE OF EARLY RISING, AS IT IS FAVOURABLE TO HEALTH, BUSINESS, AND DEVOTION.*

THIS is a very cleverly written little volume, on a subject of considerable importance, not only as it regards the young, but as addressed to the student, the man of business, and the lover of nature. The following simple calculation may have never occured to late risers, and yet what an obstinate truth it is!—

By sleeping two hours longer in bed each morning than the necessities of nature absolutely require, fourteen hours, or one day, is lost in the week. By sleeping two hours longer in bed, every morning, than the necessities of nature require, at this rate three months are lost out of twelve. By sleeping two hours longer in the morning, than the necessities of nature strictly require, Ten Years out of Forty are cut off the short period of man's existence: ten years, too, of the most useful, cheerful, healthy, and comfortable portion of our whole life. Now again the sleeper is startled and astonished. He never dreamed of such a thing. Even yet he thinks it impossible. He cannot believe it. There must be a mistake in the calculation. It is so wonderful, and so very different from the result he would have anticipated. In answer to this, we would advise the sleeper to try it himself, and the result will convince him of the awful truth. It is a simple process of arithmetic; and figures cannot lie.

At this rate, an early riser may be said to live nearly one third longer than an indulger in luxurious habits, although the duration of their lives may be the same. There has been for a certainty more than one Parr, and more than one Jenkins in the world, although only those two have numbered a century and a half of years. Early rising and longevity, however, are synonymous.

To many of our studious readers whose lucubrations are closely connected with the "midnight lamp," the following deserves to be carefully considered

It has long been the complaint of men of science and of deep thinking, that the interruption of unwelcome visitors was the greatest enemy to study; and, accordingly, to escape from the foe, a thousand devices have been resorted to, such as shutting themselves up in a room, and desiring the servants to say they were not at home; lying and writing in bed, that they might not be tempted to accompany the idle intruder to the fields. And certainly it must be confessed, that few things more provoking can well fall out than to have our seclusion broken in upon when we happen to be in the mood for study: it dissipates our ideas, and breaks the chain of thought. When the study is resumed, the mind, which formerly overflowed with forcible ideas and appropriate expressions, has become a complete blank. Now, the peculiar advantage of studying in the morning, independent of its being favourable to health, is, that no unwelcome visitor intrudes,-no unexpected engagements infringe,—no unlooked-for employment trespasses.

* Second Edition, 1825. James Robertson and Co. Edinburgh; Basil Steuart, 139, Cheapside, London.

Another great enemy to successful study is discontent. To study to any advantage, or with lasting benefit, the mind should be perfectly calm, collected, and tranquil ; there must be no corroding reflections, or dismal forebodings. Yet it often happens that peevishness and discontent creep upon us apace. When at our books, these frequently draw a deceitful veil before our fairest prospects: they start doubts and fears as to the success of our labours,-they depress the animal spirits, weaken the spring of action, and annihilate hope. Now, this fiend of the mind seldom or never makes its appearance before breakfast. In the morning the temper has not yet been ruffled by the opposition occasioned by business of the day. In the morning the inclination has not been thwarted by the obstinacy or the ignorance of those who ought to have complied with it. In the morning the will has not yet been denied what it was eager to obtain. On the contrary, there is then felt an inward pleasure, the result of self-conquest, and its sensual indulgence of sleep produces a complacency of feeling, which invests every object with the most agreeable colours, and lessens every difficulty which would, at any other period, assume a formidable aspect.

The morning is also the time most conducive to study, in as far as it is a well-attested fact that the memory is then capable of exercising most extraordinary powers. None of us need be reminded of the circumstance that, when at school, in the evening, we have conned over our appointed task again and again, and to no purpose, but, when read the last thing at night, it was correctly committed to memory by a single repetition in the morning. We have all, at later periods, often endeavoured at night, with earnest but fruitless care, to recollect some particular authority, to recal some apposite case, to strengthen our opinion by the authority of some great and learned writer, whose works we had formerly perused. At night we have tried it once and again, till, in the end, we were obliged finally to relinquish the attempt, completely foiled and disappointed. Whereas, on the succeeding morning, without a mental effort, the wished-for passage, the name or the authority flashed across the mind, and afforded the required assistance. Nor does the morning merely recal with ease past acquisitions of knowledge: it impresses on the understanding and fixes in the mind the facts and truths which form the object of attention at the time; and, in doing so, adds to that store of information from which we are to draw our future supplies, and to which we are to look as the source of our future attainments. If recollection thus exerts its full and uninterrupted vigour in the morning, surely that is the time most favourable to study. Since, then, we have thus shown that the mind is entirely dependent on the body, and that both enjoy the greatest vigour in the morning, since we have stated that there are no dismal forebodings or imaginary fears to haunt the mental faculties, and that the student is not exposed to the same interruption from intruders, and since we have shown that the memory is stronger and much more ready in its application, it is surely altogether unnecessary to

say more.

We shall conclude our remarks on this volume by earnestly recommending it to the general perusal of our readers, who whatever their habits of life may be, will find in it something exclusively addressed to their situation; while for the younger branches of the community it is so eminently calculated, that we most earnestly assert, no parent should hesitate in putting it into his children's hands. An additional recommendation to the work presents itself, in the lowness of its price, and the neatness of its appearance.

NICHOLSON AND ROWBOTHAM'S ALGEBRA.

THOUGH from the peculiar nature of our publication, we are seldom in the habit of noticing works of the above description; yet the superior merit of the present one would justify a more extended notice than our limits will allow us. It is, in fact, a treatise on science exclusively,and that portion of it which demands severe thought and applicationwe mean Algebra. From the nature of the subject, therefore, it must

be confined; but whoever wishes to obtain a more wide and diffused knowledge of science, will do well to make the Algebra of Messieurs Nicholson and Rowbotham his first step towards its attainment. There is one peculiar advantage attending it, that it contains a greater and more varied number of practical examples than any similar publication extant. In fact, there are more than eight or nine hundred problems of different species, the solutions of which, in the key lately published, are also given at full length. This must be attended with inestimable advantage to schoolmasters, as it not only saves the time and labour that would be wasted in solving them, but facilitates to an eminent degree the progress of the scholar, who would otherwise lose much in the attention that must be necessarily divided in a school. A work of this description, must we conceive, from the very nature of the subject, be popular in France; an opinion in which we are supported by the late very flattering testimony to its merit, inserted in a French periodical publication.

SONNETS.

THE LUTE UNTOUCHED.

Ir is in vain, that I forsake my lute,

Then clasp it, as a child his long-left mother;

'Tis vainer still, that I would have it mute

On this one maddening theme-it knows no other.

'Twere easier the day-fire of heaven to smother,

Than quench the burning thoughts that wake my song.

In all love's fever, easier when along

Summer's dry woods the conflagration drives,—
And rains are none, brooks few, and breezes strong,-
To chain the spiry monster, while he strives

In his full might, unto some single tree,

And bid him rage no farther, than for me,—
When once the Muse hath burst forth on her flight,-
To guide its wayward course, or limit its bold height.

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG CHILD.

WHEN day-time 's over, the bright sun must fade;
The moon,
when she hath past her full, must wane;
And, when the year hath all its bloom display'd,
We look to see a wintry waste again :
Short, at the longest, is enjoyment's reign.
But thou! poor child, on whom the dawn of life
Hath but just broken, and with a veil'd beam
That shows thee earth's joy, sorrow, peace,
As the faint phantasms of a feverish dream;
And all things round, belying what they seem,-
Must thou, so soon from the fresh feast be torn?

Just feel the craving, and depart unfed ?

and strife,

Ah! Spring hath pierced thee with her earliest thorn;
And, ere the rose could blossom,-thou art dead!

MAGNET, VOL. IV. PART XXIII.

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