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at an exorbitant intereft, and wanted not inclination to borrow more; but he could no longer meet with any one to fupply him. In vain did Julia now ask him for money; he was obliged to do what he fhould have done long ago; he was obliged to refuse her. Her acquaintance now treated her with coldness, and her card tables were empty. His fufpicious creditors became ftill more fufpicious; their bonds came in upon him daily, and he had the profpect before him of an immediate arreft, which would be followed with the lofs of his office.

He was now funk into that infenfibility which extreme diftrefs at last brings to our relief, and was fitting alone in his chamber; his wife had retired to her clofet, under the pretence of a fevere head-ache;-the door was hastily opened by Weller, the last friend that Berndorf had left: Fly," cried he, "immediately; if you delay but two hours, you will be in cuftody; I faw the warrant for that purpose in the hands of Erlach! Fly, I beseech you; here in this purfe is all the money I can spare; take it, and do the best you can."

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Berndorf ftood long as if he had been petrified all the answer Weller could draw from him was, that he must confult with his wife. He haftened to her clofet; to ber bed-there was no Julia there he called to her over the whole houfe; but there followed neither voice nor anfwer-fhe was gone to Count Stanberg. Berndorf, as if a dagger had pierced his heart, funk speechlefs upon the nearest feat, and wildly ftruck his forehead with his doubled fift! A few minutes afterwards, when he had recovered his fpeech, he raised hinfelf up, and cried aloud: "This too - this too! - Completely ruined on her account, and yet thus difhonoured and deceived! Shall I wait for her, and punish her? Shall the faithlefs woman from my hand-No, no→ let poverty, flame, and her own con. fcience be her punisher. I will not anticipate the vengeance of him, who has punished fo feverely my imprudence."

With these words he feized Weller's hand, fecured a few valuables which were left him, and hurried to his friend's houfe: in less than a quarter of an hour he was on horseback, and forfook for ever his native country.

In his flight he ftopped only for a minute at one houfe-at the habitation of Amelia. It was long fince he had become the wife of a worthy man, a bappy mother, and the esteemed friend of

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many refpectable perfons. She had long ago forgotten the uneafinefs which Bern dorf had given her but the fincerely lamented his hard fate, and fometimes would in fecret reproach herfelf gently with her jealousy. Here Berndorfitopt, looked up at the window, and exclaimed, "There, wretch! didit thou once itand; happy in the prefent, and still happier in the profpect of the future. Accurft be the moment in which an unlucky instance of thy rafhnefs occafioned the destruction of the whole happiness of thy life."

He continued his flight, weeping; and paffed the remainder of his thort life in obfcurity and indigence in a foreign land.

This is a natural and pathetic tale. The title of The Nutshell gives it an air of originality; but any other incident equally trifling might have produced the fame catastrophe. The whole tenor of the character of the unhappy hero of the story makes it rather a wonder that he fhould ever have preferred Amelia, than that he should fo foon be captivated by the brilliant but vain accomplishments of her rival for the poffeffion of his heart.

The

The Dialogue, entitled "In what Language fhould an Author write?" takes place between one of the Literati of Germany and my Lord Clarke, an English vifitor of that country. Doctor is a strong advocate for the use of i the Latin language in modern compofitions, and laments its difufe among the learned within thefe last thirty years. The reader may not perhaps be displeased to perufe the following compliment to our country, which Meiffner puts into the mouth of the English Nobleman :

"With us the man of riches and quality applies himself to ftudy, and endeavours to penetrate as far as poffible into the fecrets of nature and the truths

of philofophy; into the principles of our duty and the ends of our being; he enriches his memory with the wisdom of antiquity, and notes down every thing remarkable in his own age. In a word, he is occupied in preparing his mind, by the laborious acquifition of a multiplicity of fciences, either for a life of reflection or activity. He afterwards communicates the refult of his inquiries in a language intelligible to the bulk of the people; well knowing that the labour of the hands engages fo clolely the time of his fellow citizens, as mult entirely preclude them from the labours of the head.

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It is in expectation of this, and of other good offices, and not merely for the fake of his money, that the plebeians labour to render him comfortable; and by fupplying him with the necessaries and conveniences of life, procure him that leifure which he could not otherwife enjoy. But were he to write in a language which they do not understand, what of confequence could afford them neither inftruction nor amufement, he would deferve but little that they fhould toil in his behalf. Such is our way of thinking in Britain, and furely the principles upon which it is founded are too juft and rational, not to meet with the approbation, not only of the Germans, but of every nation of fenfe."

Bianca Capello is a dramatic narrative full of energy and pathos. It breaks off in a very interesting part; but the reader is promised the fequel, fhould the former part receive his approbation. Venice is the fcene of the adventure; and Pietro Bonaventuri, employed in the fervice of the Commercial Republic of Florence, as it flourished in the fixteenth century, and in the house of the most illuftrious and wealthy of her families, that of Salviati, is the hero of the narrative. He is defcribed as young, hand fome, accomplished, and amiable; but, alas ! allo poor and proud. He has unfortunately feen Bianca, the daughter of Capello, the heiress of a more than princely fortune; and, what alone attracts Pie tro's admiration, of unrivalled beauty. Having in vain been diffuaded by his more prudent friend Martelli from perfifting in fo hopeless a purfuit, he contrives, by the unfufpecting kindness of the Governess of the young lady, to obtain a momentary interview with the adored object in a gondola; and the, fuppofing him Salviati by his dwelling in Salviati's houfe, and prepoffeffed by his manners and perfonal attractions, permits him to hope. He departs the happiest of mortals; while Bianca, a prey to the most violent of attachments, ftruggles in fecret with her love. Unable at laft to combat with it any longer, fhe determines to admit her adorer to an interview, ftill imagining him Salviati; and at last prevails on the obliging Governess to affift her in her scheme. A billet is conveyed, and an hour of meeting appointed. From the fcene which enfues, and which concludes all that is at prefent before the English reader, fome of the more in teresting paffages are as follows;

Bianca alone (The clock ftrikes three). Ha! it has just now ftruck! Oh, wished for minute; which I have expected with the anxiety of a woman in labour; which I have waited for with the joy of a bride. (Walking impatiently up and down) How comes it that the eagle-pinions of time are changed now to the pace of a fnail? Every moment appears to stagnate! Alter not fo fuddenly, fyftem of the world; nor fuffer the rapidity of thy youthful circuit to degenerate into the creeping pace of old age.-(Walking up and down with a still quicker ftep) Or if thy own ftrength is deficient, borrow fomething of my speed. Good God! two minutes already-two and a halfand now three-Ha! the door opensSoftly, foftly, my poor heart-Hold out, panting breaft. This is he-this is he!

Bonaventuri enters, followed by the Governess. Bianca is about to run towards him with open arms, but recol lects herfelf, and finks down on a chair, and half holds out her hand to him, even before he speaks.

Bon.-I come, fairest of all beauties, perhaps to receive from your lips the fentence of death, and then die at your feet (kneels before her).

Bian. (ftretching out her hand to him) -Oh! no, live, live for Bianca.

Bon. (in fpeechlefs rapture dwelling upon her hand for two minutes, then fpringing up)-Oh! God, how can I fuftain this ocean of the most unspeakable joy? (throwing himself again upon his knees) Ever dear, may I then live?

Bia. (falling on his neck, and embracing him)-Live, live, and for me.

Bor.-Oh! that my happiness could find words! Oh! that my joy could find tears! To live for thee, crown of thy fex, divine Bianca!

Bia.-Lie no longer at my feet, thou dear one-up to my arms, beloved of my foul. You found already fo eafily and fo furely the way to my heart: feel how it glows for thee upon my lips; how it beats for thee in this bolom.-But you are filent, and hesitate to anfwer-Why gaze you thus upon me? Why do thofe eyes look fo feriously, in which I expected nothing but rapture?

Bon. Thus gazes the wretch around him, who already thought himfelf fwallowed up by the waves, and now beholds himself fate on fhore; but fees, wherever he turns his eyes, only wild and defart waftes. Oh Bianca, Bianca! I dare not hope to live with you; I cannot expect to be wholly yours.

Bia.- Fanciful dreamer! why thus torment yourself with imaginary evils? with me you fhall live in infeparable union, hand in hand, and heart to heart. If the parent that gave me life wishes to preferve it, he will not oppofe my refolution. And is not the family of Salviati well worthy to be united to that of Capello.

Bon. (who had hitherto bent upon her hand in filent rapture, at these lait words raifing himself fuddenly)-Ha! How! What do you fay? The family of Sal. viati?

Bia.-Yes indeed!

Bon. Righteous Heaven! a flash of lightning that opens a dreadful abyfs to my view! What, Bianca, do you fuppole to be the name of this daring wretch that ftands before you ?

Bia. (in aftonifhment)-What! Are you not Salviati? (Bonaventuri finks Speechlefs upon a feat, and hides his face: Bianca and the Governefs run up to him alarmed). Bia.-Great God! What is this? Speak to me, O beloved of my foul! Bianca intreats you! Will you not hear her ?

Gov. Dearest young Gentleman! what can this mean? Who are you, if you are not Salviati?

Bona. (rifing and affuming a tone of refolution)-No, no, adorable Bianca! no longer hall your error continue-it was indeed favourable to me-has been the fource of all the tranfport I have hitherto enjoyed; but let it vanifh, fince to preferve it, deceit and diffimulation would be neceffary. (Throwing himself at her feet) He that now kneels before you is not Salviati, but only a poor young man in his employment. If he has been criminal in raifing his wishes to an object fo infinitely above him, punish his offence without delay; and were it even the punishment of death, he will bear it without a murmur.

Bia.-What do I hear? You are not Salviati Rafk youth, what is thy

name ?

Bon.-Bonaventuri, of Florence. Oh! I know too well that even the most illuftrious mortal blood is not fufficiently noble to afpire to an union with you; but alas! birth and the external gifts of fortune depend not upon our own choice. My whole nobility is hereditary honour; my whole treasure is this heart, which

beats for alone. you

Bia.-My God! what a mistake! my hopes are vanished-all gone for ever!

Bon.-Oh! that a profusion of love, and a fimple, honeft, and tender heart, could give me pretentions to your hand, then would there be no man in the wide creation of God, who could produce a fairer title than myfelf-no King who durft difpute my claim. How! not one confolatory glance-not one encouraging word. Here I lie, divine Bianca, turn hither your enlivening eye! Dearest of women, Oh! forgive me! If it must be death, inflict it yourself. The quicker it is, I fhall thank you the more. Only fuffer not my wretched being to languid away in eternal torture.

Bia. O Bonaventuri (pointing to her heart), is not this fufficiently mangled already? and will you go on to tear it farther?

Bon.-O God! Can I

Bia.-Be ftill, and hear me. It is enough, amiable young man, once to have loved you, to love you always. My heart is befides too much a friend to juftice to fuffer the inequality of our rank and fortune to make an alteration in my fentiments of him whom I would have loved in the drefs of a beggar. Yet muft I never flatter myfelf that an ambitious father will bend to my incli nations. Here then, Bonaventuri, we muft part: I faw you here for the firft, and for the last time-nor will I ever fpeak to you again-your vifits would but make my virtue fufpected-it alone is dearer to me than you-life is far inferior to both. Go, go, poor youth; Bianca will never be the wife of another, though, alas! the cannot be yours. (About to break away.)

Bona. (in the tone of defpair)-Bianca!

Bia. (coming back)-It is true-this yet belongs to you (kiffes him thrice, and runs off).

Bon. (purfues her to the door, but finds it bolted)-O God! What have I, that am but duft, committed? Why this fupernatural meature of affliction poured out on a mortal head? [Exit.

Gov.-Truly I pity him; but as he is not Salviati, who can help it? [Exit.

This is certainly natural and forcible, which the continuation will hardly improve. As Sir Lucius O'Trigger fays in The Rivals, it is a very pretty quarrel as it (tands; and if the drama proceeds, the reader's fagacity will readily fugget to him the catastrophe.

The

The Hiftory of Lamberg confifts of fragments and letters not much connected, nor very intelligible. We fufpect the hero, from an obfcure paffage or two, to be one of the German Illuminati, fworn brothers of the modern Philofophers of France; of whofe wifdom and humanity Europe has received fuch emphatical and decifive evidence.

We hope Mr. Thomfon will not be induced to give us any more of this farrago of mifchief; nor bring another bale of peftilence to the tainted mart. With this exception the Selection is moral and entertaining; and, bating a few Scotticifms, perfpicuous and not inelegant. We fhall be glad to fee another Volume of this Work. R. R.

Elluftrations of Sterne; with other Efays and Verjes. By John Ferriar, M. D. 8vo. Cadell and Davies. 1798.

THAT Sterne borrowed freely, without acknowledgment, was a fact known before Dr. Ferriar engaged in the fearch which has produced the prefent Volume. The late Mr. Henderfon, of Covent Garden Theatre, difcovered the British Rabelais' obligations to Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy much fconer, and communicated them to feveral of his friends, as they well remember, many years ago. Further inquiry has produced

more difcoveries, and the Author now be. fore us has with laudable perfeverance connued the purfuit, and here presents to the public the refult of the pains he has taken. We agree with him, that if the reader's ❝ opinion of Sterne's learning and origina. lity be leffened by the perufal, he must at leaft admire the dexterity and good taste with which he has incorporated in his work fo many paffages written with very different views by their refpective authors. It was evidently Sterne's purpose to make a pleafant faltable book coûte que coûte; and after taking his general plan from fome of the older French writers, and from Burton, he made prize of all the good thoughts that came in his way." We cannot avoid proceding a step further, and thinking that Sterne's reputation is little diminished by the prefent difcoveries, or by others which might be brought against him. In our Magazine for Auguft 1789 p. 118, a Correfpondent, who was Mr. Headley, of Norwich, pointed out fome paffages in the Sermons of Yerick borrowed from thofe of Dean Young, father of the poet; and another Correfpondent, in cer Magazine for March 1792, p. 167, has noticed a paffage evidently taken from a Sermon by Dr. Bentley. Other instances might be produced; but the moft remarkalle coincidence may be found in Shebbeare's Leers of Angeloni, printed in 1750, two years before Triftram Shandy appeared. In

nega&ted work the Author describes an e aordinary character who then lived at

Bideford, one of whofe peculiarities so much refembles the hobby horse of my uncle Toby, that we cannot but imagine Sterne had feen it: "During the reign of the immortal Queen Anne, whenever the Duke of Marl. borough opened the trenches against any city in Flanders, he broke ground at the extremity of a floor in his house, made with lime and fand, according to the custom of that country, and advanced in his approach reguTarly with his pick-axe, gaining work after work, chalked out on the ground to the intelligence in the gazette; by which he took

the town in the middle of the floor at Bideford the fame day his Grace was mafter of it in Flanders: thus every city cost him a new floor."-(Vol. I. p. 74.) We still, however, concur in Mr. Headley's fentiment,

who concludes of Sterne: "Whatever be his original genius, we never read fuch a genius as my uncle Toby." The remainder of the prefent Volume contains, 1. Of certain varieties of men defcribed by Authors. 2. Menippean Effay on English Hiftories. 3. Tranf lation of Add.fon's Machine Gefticulantes. 4. Of Genius. 5. Dialogue in Shades, expofing the New Philofophy of Mr. Godwin. 6. Knatter, an Elegy. And 7. A Northern Dr. Ferriar is mistaken Profpect, an Ode. in afcribing (p. 37) the tranflation of Friar Gerund to Baretti. The real tranflator is well known to have been a clergyman of fome celebrity, ftill living. At p. 227, the name of Forrest is put as the Author of The Polite Philofopher, instead of Forrefter. Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Thomas Cember, D. D. Jome time Dean of Durbam, in which is introduced a candid View of the Scope and Execution of the feveral Works of Dr. Comber, as well printed as MSS. By Thos. Comber, A. B. 8vo. Richardíons. 1799.

It is obferved by the Editor of thefe Memoirs, that he had long " cherished an idea that it would greatly tend to promote the interefts of RELIGION and VIRTUE, if the act ons of a man were made public who always had a refpect to their facred dictates,

and

and uniformly obeyed their commands; he had felt perfuaded that the cause of goodness would come recommended with additional force to the minds of men, if, by placing fuch a meritorious example before their eyes, they fhould at last be convinced that the virtuous and good have a great advantage over the wicked and unprincipled, even in this prefent life; and that they have every thing to hope for, and nothing to fear in a future and eternal state of things.

"To rescue therefore," he continues, "from unmerited obloquy the memory of a man not lefs famous in hus day for his loyalty to his lawful fovereign, than for his unwearied zeal to advance the caufe of the proteftant reformed religion, and check the dangerous progrefs of popery and arbitrary power; to fhew him, in every relative ca. pacity of private life, not lefs exemplary than in his more public conduct; and to exhibit his character to be copied and admired; is the humble defign of thefe Memoirs."

We fhall add, that what the Editor has undertaken, he has here performed. Dr. Comber was born at Wefterham, in Kent, the 19th of March 1644 ; was educated at Sydney College, Cambridge; afterwards fettled in Yorkshire; had fome moderate preferment; and at the Revolution was advanced to the Deanery of Durham. He died 25th Nov. 1699, at a time when he was likely to be raised to a higher fituation. He appears to have been a man of much integrity and confiderable abilities, which were exerted for the benefit of the world, and in the defence of the establishment of the Church and State. His works had a greater celebrity formerly than they poffefs at prefent; but they might still be read with advantage, as they contain no inconfiderable display of learning, argument, and moderation, equally worthy of the Author, and of the cause he undertook to defend,

A Treatise on Sugar. By Benjamin Mofeley, M. D. Auibor of a Treatise on Tropical Dijeafes, Military Operations, and Climate of the Weft Indies, and a Treatife on Coffee. 8vo. Robinsons.

We are happy to examine another work from the pen of this ftrenuous friend and learned advocate for colonial agriculture and commerce. The Treatife before us unites with the most extensive and various literature every thing that can be wifhed for on the hiftory of the Sugar Cane; the hiftory of Sugar; its analyfis, properties, and ufe; together with its political and commercial

relations. It is "a fubject of the first importance," as our Author properly afferts, " and, more than that, a subject nɔw influencing the difpofitions to health or difeafs of the greatest part of the inhabitants of the earth.'

Our Author traces this fubje&t, in a manner never before attempted, through every, ch. mate, country, and hiftory of mankin 1, wherever any veftige or mention of the Sugar Cane or Sugar has been discovered. The planter and merchant are deeply interested in this publication, as well as the public.

Befides the immediate fubject of the Treatife, the work abounds with many carious medical, philosophical, and critical reflexions, and original literature. Among the various topics of our Author's animadver fions, we perused with great pleasure his obfervations on Honey, Mufcles, Phyfica Antipathy, Pythagorean Syftem, Cow Pox *, Magic, as practifed by the Negroes in Africa and the West Indies, illuftrated in an admirable story of a Negro Robber and Necromancer in Jamaica, Yellow Fever of America, Plagues, and Quarantine.

The performance is written in a proper file; and our Author has fhewn, on several occafions, that wit and entertaining recital are not incompatible with the gravity of medicine, nor the dignity of profound eru

dition.

The Captive of the Caftle of Sennair, an African Tale: containing various Anecdotes of the Sophians bitberto unknown to Mankind in general. By George Cumberland. 1200. Egertons. 1798.

From the time of Sir Thomas More's Utopia, many works of a fimilar kind to the prefent, deferibing the laws, manners, and cuftoms of countries fuppofed to be found in the interior of America, or as in the pretent cafe, and the Adventures of Guadentio de

Lucca in Africa, have been given to the public, and received with various fuccef, according to the abilities of the inventon. They have fometimes afforded the means of venting oblique fatire on the practices f particular countries, and fometimes have been levelled at individuals. The prefent paformance is introduced to the world with very little art, and feems intended to propagate the licentioufness of French prin. ciples in morais, in religion, and in politics. The Sophians, the people here held up for imitation, appear to have been well read in Mandeville, of the beginning of this century,

Dr. Moseley is the first person who has called the public attention on this fubject; the introduction of which he pointedly condemns.

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