ity secured only by idle tales without moral application, or its support depend on the multiplicity of its jests or the number of its anec dotes. He who will descend to personal satire will be in no loss for readers, and he who will detail the scandal of the tea-table will collect all the lovers of light reading by the strength of curiosity, but poor indeed must be the intellect and very humble must be the pride, which condescends to such degradation. It is pleasant and useful sometimes to mingle the levities of wit with the elegancies of literature, and to enliven a course of remarks on moral able the board of health, and as such | tigation, it would be disgraceful to entrusted with a general superin- the general taste to find its populartending authority over the means to prevent sickness and contagion from infesting the metropolis, and I have heard that melancholy and dulness are as dangerous to the community and as much a nuisance as the dirt which we are continually ordering away. I must therefore forewarn you that during the summer months from the first day of June to the first day of September, your whole design, aim and faculties must be employed in promoting mirth, pleasure and hilarity, and if you shall in any paragraph or paragraphs, dare to be sober and serious, and attempt to puzzle the good people of this town with any dry detail of ar-ity or manners with the gaiety of the gument or inquiry, that you shall be ordered by authority of this board to a quarantine in your printer's shop,and shalt not be in any wise permitted to endanger th esafety of the public. Your humble servt. JEREMIAH CAREFUL. courtier and the levity of the man of fashion. In a work taken up at an interval of leisure and read for amusement, we are not prepared nor do we expect to enter deeply into scientific speculations, but neither ought we to desire the incidents of a novel,the personality of a satire, or the point of an epigram. CorLight reading! It seems then rect taste will be gratified by a disthat both for pleasure, business and cussion of some topic of general insecurity nothing will get along interest, some form of fashion, some this laughter-loving metropolis but principle of action, or some combilevity and humour. That the litera-nation of the passions. The writer ry labour which aims as well at instruction as amusement makes too heavy claims on the attention, and those productions only, which like a picture of mirth, force the countenance of their readers into a smile are received with any degree of regard. That taste must be vicious in the extreme which regard nothing but humor, which prefers a jest book to the Spectator, and delights more in the crazy tales of a novelist than in the ingenious dissertations of the English classics. In a work, which seeks its support more by its adaptation to local circumstances than profound inves who makes these his topics has a right to expect support proportionate to the manner of his execution, and although it may be objected against him that he has not well done what he attempted to perform, yet it would seem that he has sheltered himself from the charge of not having attempted what it would be honourable faithfully to execute. The Wanderer however will bear in mind the intimations and the wishes of his friends, and though he will not promise much reformation will endeavour not to be so great an offence as to be classed with small fish, lobsters, and infected vesses] and be obliged to perform quaran- | tine ! He means however very soon to ask the attention of his readers to the subject of lotteries, when he shall beg leave to speak truth in plain terms, not very much to the satisfaction of all the parties concerned, L. SELECTED FOR THE EMERALD BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MAGLIABECHI. MAGLIABECHI, born at Florence in the year 1633, was distinguished for the extent of his memory. His parents were of so low and mean a rank, that they were well satisfied when they got him into the service of a man who sold herbs and fruit. He had never learned to read, and yet he was perpetually poring over the leaves of old books that were used as waste-paper in his master's shop. A bookseller, who lived in the neighbourhood, and who had often observed this, and knew the boy could not read, asked him one day what he meant by staring so much on printed paper? He replied that he did not know how it came, but that he loved it of all things; that he was very uneasy in the business he was in, and should be the happiest person in the world if he could live with him who had so many books about him. The bookseller was astonished, yet pleased with the answer, and at last told him that he should take him into his shop if his master would part with him. Young Magliabechi thanked him with tears of joy in his eyes, and his happiness was highly increased when his master, on a request from the bookseller, gave him leave to go where he pleased. He therefore entered on his new business, and had not been long in it before he could find any book that was asked for as readily as the bookseller himself. Some time after this he learned to read, and when he had done so, he was always reading when he could. He seems not to have applied to any particular study; a taste for reading was his ruling passion, and a prodigious memory his greatest talent. He read every book almost indifferently that happened to come into his hands. He read them with surprising quickness, and yet retained not only the sense of what he read, but often all the words and the very manner of spelling them, if there was any thing peculiar of that kind in any author. His extraordinary application and talents soon recommended him to Ermini and Marini, librarians to the Grand Duke of Tuscany. By them he was introduced into the conversations of the learned, and made known at court. He then began to be looked upon every where as a prodigy, and particularly for his vast and unbounded memory. It is said that a trial was made of force of his memory, which, if true is very amazing. A gentleman at Florence, who had written a piece which was to be printed, had lent the manuscript to Magliabechi, and some time after it had been returned with thanks, came to him again with a melancholy face, and told him of some pretended accident, by which he said he had lost his manuscript. The author seemed almost inconsolable for the loss of his work, and intreated Magliabechi, whose character for remembering what he had read was always very great, to try to recollect as much of it as he possibly could, and write it downfor him against his next visit. Magliabechi assured him he would; and, on setting about it, wrote down the whole manuscript without mis sing a word, or even varying in the spelling. By treasuring up every thing he read in so strange a manner, or at least the subject, and all the principal parts of all the books he ran over, his head became at last, as one of his acquaintance expressed it, "An universal index of both titles and matter." By this time, Magliabechi was become so famous for the vast extent of his reading, and his amazing retention of what he read, that it was common for the learned to consult him when they were writing on any subject. He could tell them not only who had professedly treated on their subject, but such also as had treated on it accidentally in writing on others, both which he did with the greatest exactness; naming the author, the book, the words, and often the very number of the page in which they were inserted. He did this so often, so readily, and so exactly, that he came at last to be looked upon as an oracle for the ready and full answers that he gave to all questions which were proposed to him, in any faculty or science. His great eminence in this way, and his extensive knowledge of books, induced him the Grand Duke, Cosmo III. to do him the honour of making him his librarian. At the same time he had the keeping of the books of Leopoldo and Francesco Maria, the two Cardinals of Tuscany, and yet all this did not satisfy his insatiate appetite. To read such a vast number of books as he did, he made use of a very extraordinary method. When a book first came into his hands, he would look the title page all over, dip here and there in the preface and advertisements, if there were any, and then cast his eyes on each of the divisions, the different sections or chapters, and then he would be able for ever to know what the book contained; for he remembered as steadily as he conceived rapidly. After he had taken to this way of reading, a priest, who had compos ed a panegyric upon one of his favourite saints, brought it to Magliabechi as a present. He read it over in the before-mentioned way, and then thanked him very kindly for his excellent treatise. The author, in some pain,. asked him whether that was all he intended to read of his book. Magliabechi cooly answered yes, for I know very well ev ery thing that is in it. Magliabechi had a local memory too, of the places where every book stood, and seems to have carried this farther than merely in regard to collections of books with which he was personally acquainted. One day the Grand Duke sent for him after he was his librarian, to ask him whether he could get a book that was particularly scarce. No, sir, answered Magliabechi it is impossi ble, for there is but one in the world; that is in the Grand Signior's library at Constantinople, and is the seventh book on the second shelf on the right hand as you go in. He Though Magliabechi lived so sedentary a life, with intense and almost perpetual application to books, he attained to a good old age. died in his eighty-first year, on the 14th of July, 1714. By his will he left a very fine library of his own collection for the use of the public, with a fund to maintain it, and whatever should remain over to the poor. He never married, and was quite negligent, or rather slovenly, in his dress. His appearance was such as must have been far from engaging the affection of a lady, had he addressed himself to any, and his face in particular, as appears by the sev eral representations of him, whether is certain that the more riches he accumulated his apparent ignorance of their use increased. He had acquired the power of bestowing hap in busts, medals, pictures, or prints would rather have prejudiced his suit than advanced it. He received his friends, and those who came to consult him in any points of litera-piness but the desire was lost. The ture, in a civil and obliging manner; though in general he had almost the air of a savage, and even affected it; together with a cynical or contemptuous smile which scarcely rendered his look the more agreeable. winter of age had already whitened his head, and its icy influence seemed to have penetrated his heart. Carazan neglected the duty of hospitality; his house was shut against the unhappy, but he regularly perIn his manner of living he affec- formed the exercises of devotion, ted the character of Diogenes: three and was never absent from the hard eggs and a draught or two of mosque at the hours of prayer; for water were his usual repast. Those he feared the censure of men though who went to see him usually found he sought not their affection. Pihim lolling in a sort of fixed wood-ety, which has the love of God for en cradle, with a multitude of books, its motive, and that of our assosome thrown in heaps and others scattered about the floor all round him, and this cradle, or bed, was attached to the nearest piles of books by a number of cobwebs. At their entrance, he commonly cried out to them not to hurt his spiders. CARAZAN, AN ORIENTAL TALE.. Translated from the French for the Emerald. ciates for its support, unites the noblest of virtues, gratitude and benifi- cence, it approximates divinity: It obtains respect to which no claim was laid. Filling the whole heart it is fully recompensed by the sensations it produces. But devotion which is animated by no sentiment and produces no virtue excites only contempt. It is like the barren plant which bears neither flowers nor fruit, and is trodden under feet without regret.. When Carazan journeyed to the mosque all eyes were attracted toCARAZAN, a rich merchant of wards him, but no demonstration of Bagdad, was no less notorious for respect accompanied the public reavarice than celebrated for opulence. gards. The poor suspended at his The splendour of his wealth con- approach their useless supplications trasted with the obscurity of his ori-and the silence of disapprobation gin,like a sparkling ray which bursts reigned around him. from the bosom of darkness. His riches were the fruit of active industry and unremitted labour. His contemporaries styled him an honest man, and some recollected traits of generosity, which were obvious before his fortune had reached its height; but whether his intercourse with men had taught him to mistrust them, or love of gold had contracted his liberality of sentiment, and pride increased with wealth, it Such was the life of Carazan, such the general opinion of his character, when it was announced through all the city that the palace of Carazan would be opened to the populace, his table spread for the hungry, and all the rites of hospitality performed to those who advanced their their claim. The multitude soon · rushed like torrent through his gates. Carzan, pressed by the crowd, himself distributed bread to knew no power in nature could change it, all my self-confidence deserted me. I remained covered with confusion, mute, trembling, and transfixed. From the midst of the shining light a loud voice pronounced these words: the hungry and clothing to those life. When the idea of eternity who needed. On his front mild presented itself to my mind, when joy was seated, and tears of tender-I saw my fate about to be fixed and ness flowed from his eyes. The people viewed with surprise a change which had so much the air of prodigy. A murmur of praise ran through the crowd increasing and extending, like the sounds of thunder which the echos repeat and prolong. Carazan signified by a motion of the hand a desire to be heard, and instantly attention suspended the tumult. A profound "Carazan, thy worship has not been acceptable; for self-interest was the sole motive of thy actions. Thou hast not raised thy regards to heav silence reigned among the multi-en with gratitude, thy demeanour tude, and Carazan in these words to those around thee has not been repaid their attention. marked by goodness. The vice and folly of men have served thee as pretexts to withhold from them thy benevolence. Why then hast thou not blamed the liberality of heaven? On whom does the sun shed his "To Him whose powerful hand elevated the mountains and confined in their bosoms the fire which shaketh the earth; to the All-powerful and All-merciful, glory forever! He hath made sleep the min-lustre? Where do the clouds distil ister of his designs: A vision from their fructifying dews, mild Spring heaven hath changed my heart. At spread its perfumes, liberal Autumn night while I computed the produce distribute its gifts, if not on the of my merchandize and triumphed senseless and the vicious? Rememin the augmentation of my wealth, ber, Carazan, that thou hast shut thy a profound sleep took possession of heart against compassion, that thou my senses, and the hand of Him hast gathered riches with an iron who inhabiteth the third heaven was hand. Thou hast lived for thyself extended over me. I saw the an- alone, and henceforth alone shalt gel of death darting upon me with thou remain. Thou art exiled forthe rapidity of a whirlwind; he ever from the light of heaven and pierced me before I could avoid the the society of all beings. For thee shaft. At the same instant I felt shall solitude prolong the wearimyself raised from the earth and some hours of despair and darkness transported with incredible swiftness shall augment the horror of thy through the regions of the air. Our fate." globe soon appeared as an atom. The stars shone around me with a splendour which eclipsed the sun. The gates of paradise opened....I was dazzled by a sudden light which no human eye can support. "Impelled by a secret but irresistible power, I was now hurried from the brilliant system of nature, passing in a moment a multitude of worlds. In approaching the verge of nature I beheld the shades of "The irrevokable sentence was darkness without limits thicken benow to be pronounced. My term of fore me....Horrible region! eternal earthly being was terminated; noth-abode of silence, solitude and night. ing could be subtracted from the ills I had committed, nothing added to the good I had performed during At this spectacle an inexpressible horror seized me, and with all the vehemence of desire I exclaimed, |