decline of the day, without shelter, with out affiftance, and wholly ignorant where or how they were to pafs the night, without even the certainty that it was poffible for men to exist in the places they had undertaken to vifit, and yet that they were able to pursue their journey with unremitted intrepidity, I could not but admire their strength and courage. My guides were fo firmly prepoffeffed with the fear of cold, that they shut up every aperture of the tent with the ut moft exactness, so that I fuffered very confiderably from the heat, and the vi tiated air, which had become highly noxious, from the breaths of so many people, in a small room. I was frequently obliged, in the course of the night, to go out of the tent, in order to relieve my breathing. The moon fhone with the brighteft fplendor, in the midft of a fky as black as ebony. Jupiter, rayed like the fun, arose from behind the mountain in the east. The light of these luminaries was reflected from the white plain, or rather bason, in which we were fituated, and, dazzling, eclipfed every ftar, except thofe of the first and fecond magnitude. At length we composed ourselves to fleep. We were, however, foon awakened by the noise of an immense mass of fnow (avalanche), which had fallen down from the top of the mountain, and covered part of the flope over which we were to climb the next day." As they were obliged to melt a great quantity of fnow, and prepare many ne ceffaries for their farther progress in their journey, it was late the next morning before they took their departure. M. de Sauffure continues his narrative to this effect: "We began our afcent to the third and laft plain, and then turned to the left, in our way to the highest rock, which is on the caft part of the fummit. The afcent is here very fteep, being about 39 degrees inclined to the horizon, and bounded on each fide by precipices. The furface of the fnow was fo hard and flippery, that our pioneers were obliged to hew out their footsteps with hatchets. Thus we were two hours in climbing a hill of about 530 yards high. Having arrived at this laft rock, we turned to the weftward, and climbed the laft afcent, whofe height is about 300 yards, and its inclination about 28 or 29 degrees. On this peak the atmosphere is fo rare, that a man's ftrength is exhausted with the leaft fatigue. When we came near the top, I could not walk fifteen or fixteen steps without stopping to take breath; and I frequently perceived myself so faint, that I was under the neceffity of fitting down, from time to time; and in proportion as I recovered my breath, I felt my strength renewed. All my guides experienced fimilar fenfations, in proportion to their refpective conftitutions. We arrived at the fummit of Mont-Blanc at 11 o'clock in the forenoon. My attention was firft directed toward Chamouni, where I knew my wife and her two fifters were anxiously obferving, with a telescope, my motions thro thefe airy regions; and it was with the utmost delight that I discovered a flag, which they had agreed to hoift at the moment they should perceive that I had gained the top of the mountain. It convinced me that their apprehensions for my safety were removed. I now enjoyed the grand fpectacle which was under my eyes. A thin vapour, fufpended in the inferior regions of the air, deprived me of the diftinct view of the loweft and most remote objects, fuch as the plains of France and Lombardy; but I did not so much regret this lofs, fince I faw, with remarkable clearness, what I principally wished to fee, viz. the affemblage of thofe high ridges, with the true form and fituations of which I had long been defirous of becoming thoroughly acquainted. I could fcarce believe my eyes. I thought my felf in a dream when I faw, below my feet, fo many majeftic peaks, especially the Needles, the Midi, Argentiére, and Géant, whofe bafes had proved to difficult and dangerous of accefs. I obtained a perfect knowledge of their propor tion to, and connection with each other; of their form and ftructure; and a fingle view removed more doubts, and afforded more information, than whole years of study. While I was thus employed, my guides. pitched my tent, and were fixing the apparatus for the experiments I had propofed to make on boiling water; but when I came to difpofe my inftruments for that purpofe, I was obliged, almoft at every inftant, to defift from my labours, and turn all my thoughts to the means of refpiration. When it is confidered, that the mercury in the barometer was na D 2 higher higher than 16 inches and a line (17 145 inches English), and that this air had confequently little more than half the denfity of that on the plains, the breath ing muft neceffarily be increased, in order to caufe, in a given time, the paffage of a fufficient quantity of air through the lungs. The frequency of refpiration in creafed the circulation of the blood, more efpecially as the arteries on the furface of the body had not the preffure they were ufually accuftomed to. We were all in a feverish ftate, as will be seen in the fequel. ́While I remained perfectly still, I experienced but little uneasiness more than a flight oppreffion about my heart; but, on the fmalleft bodily exertion, or when I fixed my attention on any object for fome moments together, and particularly when I preffed my cheft in the act of ftooping. I was obliged to rest and pant for two or three minutes. My guides were in a fimilar condition. We had no appetite; and our provifions, which were all frozen, were not well calculated to excite it: nor had we any inclination for wine or brandy, which increased our indifpofition, moft probably by accelerating the circulation of the blood. Nothing but fresh water relieved us; and much time and trouble were neceffary to procure this article, as we could have no other than melted fnow. I remained on the fummit till half paft three; and though I did not lofe a fingle moment, I was not able to make all thofe experiments, in four hours and a half, which I have frequently done in less than three on the fea fide. However I made, with great exactnefs, thofe which were moft effential. We returned much easier than I could have expected, since, in descending, we did not experience any bad effects from the compreffion of the thorax; our refpiration was not impeded, and we were not under the neceffity of refting, in order to recover our breath and itrength, The road down to the first plain was, nevertheless, by no means agreeable, on account of the great declivity; and the fun, fhining fo bright on the tops of the precipices below us, made fo dazzling an appearance, that it required a good head to avoid growing giddy from the profpect. We pitched our tent again on the fnow, though we were more than four hundred yards below our last night's Encampment. I was here convinced that it was the rarity of the air, and not The next day we found that the icevalley which we had paffed on our firft day's journey, had undergone a confiderable change, from the heat of the two preceding days, and that it was much more difficult to pass than it had been in our afcent. We were obliged to go down a declivity of fnow, of no less than 30 degrees of inclination, in order to a void a chasm which had happened during our expedition. We at length got down as low as the first eminence on the fide, about half after nine, and were perfectly happy to find ourfelyes on a foundation which we were fure would not give way under our feet." M. de Sauffure concludes this part of his account by informing us, that he and his party returned to the Priory by din ner-time, -all fafe and well. M. Winter Evenings; or Lucubrations on Life and Letters. 3 vol. 12mo. continued from vol. 49. p. 605 of the prevailing practice of acting Plays by private Gentlemen and Ladies, writing and peaking Prologues and E ilogue, and building private Theatres. F all the various imitations of life and manners which the arts exhibit, none approach fo nearly in refemblance to nature as the poetry of the drama, embellished by the actor's utterance, and by all the ornaments of the Itage. Beautiful indeed are the images excited by the pencil; for colour and truth of figure, and of attitude, almoft vivify the canvals. But what Parrhafius or Appelles can paint motion? Here their admirable art is found to fail; but dramatic poetry, accompanied with action, gives to imitation the air of reality. moft amply fuppies the defect, and Arts fo delightful, it might juftiy be expected, expected, would be univerfatly purfued. -The fact corresponds with the theory. There is fearce an age recorded, or a nation described, in which traces of dramatic exhibition are undiscernible; but in no country has the drama been more ardently cultivated than in England, where poetry has had her Shakespeare, and the hiftrionic art her Girrick. So great have been the charms of the tage, that many in the genteeleft walks of life, not fatisfied with being spectators only, have burned with an ambition to wear the fock and buskin, and to court the plaudits of a private audience. The profeffion of a player was once unreasonably degraded. It was an illiberal idea, which claffed those who are able to exprefs the finest fenfibilities of human nature with the refufe of fociety. Garrick was once, I think, mistaken, for a fhewman in the country, and treated in confequence of that idea with no great respect. He contributed greatly to add that dignity to the profeffion, which, when it is fupported by an excellence fimilar to his own, it undoubtedly deferves. The fashion of acting plays, which prevails in families exalted by rank and fortune, adds ftill more respect to the art of acting, and renders a fet of men, whom the law has confidered as little fuperior to vagabonds, objects of wonder and of imitation. The finest ladies are eager to emulate the graces and powers of an Abingdon or a Siddons, and Lords and Baronets have condekended to be the difciples of each modero Rofcius. Nothing can enliven a rural residence more effectually than the prevailing practice of representing plays in a neighbourly way by friends and relations. Mufic, poetry, painting, fine dreffes, perfonal beauty and polished eloquence, combine to please all who are admitted to partake of the entertainment. No rude nels and vulgarity interrupts the actors. The fpectators or audience bring with them a refolution to be pleased; and if they should at any time feel difpleasure, they have too much gratitude for the invitation, too much friendship for the proprietor of the theatre and the performance, and too much natural and acquired politeness, to exprefs their difguft. Thus, all proceeds fmoothly. Good humour reigns, and if vanity withes to be gratified, why thould it be dilappointed, lince the graufication is so harmless and inoffensive ? But now enters some serious obferver, and with a cynical air ventures to que ftion the innocence of these diverfions. " O!" exclaims the audience,“ he is a methodist, a puritan, a faint. Hifs him out of the house, and let us fhut the door and enjoy ourselves without in trufion." It must be acknowledged that his obfervations would be ill-timed and ill-placed in the theatre and amidit the reprefentation; but let us hear whether he has any thing to fay on the fubje& which one may liften to at fome leifure quarter of an hour while under the hairdreffer's hands, or while one is painting one's cheeks for an evening exhibition or performance. Since there are public theatres magnificently fupported for the public amufe ment, it is certain that the pleasure and improvement to be derived from the drama may be obtained without the trouble and expence of supporting and supplying a private theatre; a trouble, which of ten engroffes fo much time, as to infringe upon important duties; an expence which leads to injuftice, embarrassment, and ruin. Those who might otherwise have beftowed their money and their time for the public benefit, or in works of charity, have found themselves unable, and not inclined to do either, when their thoughts and incomes have been devoted to the expenfive vanities of acting, and maintaining with splendour the numerous requifites of a private thea tre. It may perhaps admit a doubt, whether the various attitudes and fituations into which impaffionate lovers on the ftage are unavoidably drawn, be favourable to thofe virtues which tend to preferve the tranquillity of domestic life. Beautiful drefs, enraptured fpeeches, tender embraces, infpire ideas of love in the bosoms of those who cannot harbour them without criminality. It is a farther circumftance unfavourable to morals, that most of the English comedies in the greatest repute are so shamefully immoral, as to recommend vice with all the embellishments of wit and shining qualities, and to difcountenance the most important and amiable virtues, by rendering the poffeffors of them fubjects of ridicule. To hear fuch dialogue as that of Congreve and Farquhar is fufficiently injurious; but to commit it to me. mory, and recommend and enforce it by all the ftudied graces of acting, must pro duce duce no good effect on the morals of the performer. They whofe profeffion it is are less likely to be hurt by fuch dialogue, becaufe they are labouring in their vocation for fubfiftence, and often perform their parts with reluctance and as a painful task; but the ladies and gentlemen actors are volunteers, and may be fuppofed to adopt whatever character or fentiments they exhibit from the deliberate act of their own choice. The love of the drama is by no means confined to the charms of the poetry or the propriety of the action. The difplay of the person to advantage in fancied dreffes, and in captivating attitudes, induces many to defcend to the stage. Paint and gaudy drefs difplayed by candle-light appear with peculiar luftre. To have the eyes of a large affembly fixed upon them at a time when they are de corated to the greatest advantage, is a circumftance very delightful to those who live but to display themselves and to court admiration. I fear I muft affirm that the tafle for acting contributes much to the increase of vanity and folly, the transition from which to vice and mifery is too easy. What shall I fay of the plain duties of domestic life? They appear mean, vul, gar, and trifling to the parent who labours under the theatrical mania. She who melts into tears on the stage at the fight of wo, can neglect her children, because her attention to them must be in the retirements of the nursery, where there is no audience to see the tears of fenfibility, and reward them with applaufe. The time, as well as attention, employed in the preparation for and performance of a play, exclude the due degree of parental attention to a family. Unfeeling parents! who hypocritically weep to gratify your own vanity, and fend your fweet babes from your bofoms to feel the pangs of real wo under the harsh and careless treatment of a mercenary alien! While you are kneeling in all the affected pathos of tragedy, there is one whom you have brought into a wretched world, and who is calling for you in the language of forrow; but you I will not hear. They who are the most apt to act fenfibility, are often the most deftitute of it. Let us fee no more your black velvet train, your dishevelled hair, and your white handkerchief. Be no longer defirous of perfonating the afflicted parent on the ftage, but go home. and be the good mother in your nursery. and at your family fire-fide. But not only the babes are neglected, but the tender charities of man and wife are loft by the rage of acting in private theatres. The lady performs the part of a wife or beloved heroine with fome libertine beau, who fails not to recommend himself by the charms of his dress, perfon, and elocution; and the gentleman is the lover of fome lovely object, to whom it is difficult to pretend a paffion without feeling it. It must be allowed that fuch fituations are dangerous s; and the low state of conjugal felicity and fidelity in the prefent age may perhaps justify the friends of virtue and good.order in the endeavour to discourage any prevailing practices which appear in the leaft degree likely to diminish them... I will not attempt to exaggerate my defcription of the evils which may poffibly arife from the prevailing tafte for fcenical amusements in private life. Perhaps the apprehenfions may be merely imaginary. A caution can, however, do no harm, and may possibly prevent it. As the finest compofitions of the drama may be seen exhibited in the greatest perfection, it may be wifhed, without offence, that the lovers of it would be contented with the excellent amusements of the public theatres. If, indeed, they are lovers of dramatic poetry, and poffefs tafte and fenfe enough to be delighted with fine compofition independently of drefs, ftage-trick, and fcenery, why will they not acquiefce in reading the best plays in their clofet, or in the family circle? Pleasure and improvement would be the certain refult of fuch a mode of fpending time, without the poffibility of danger, provided the pieces were felected with due judgement and delicacy of choice. Expence, and a thousand vanities and follies to which the practice of acting in private theatres gives rise, would thus be avoided. The fashionable prologue and epilogue writers and fpeakers, and the whole tribe of gentlemen and lady actors, whatever they may pretend of tafte for poetry and a love of harmless amusement, are probably actuated by a secret vanity, one of the most powerful motives of the human heart. They unhappily pursue a conduct which is likely to increase rather than to leffen a foible, which if not vice, is the fruitful parent of it," A A Tour through the Highlands of Scotland, and the Hebride Ifles, in 1786. By John Knox, continued [vol. 49. p. 446.] THE great lofs of tranfmarine terri tory which this country sustained a few years ago, was confidered, by the politicians of the day, as pregnant with the ruin of "Poor old England." Under this gloomy impreffion (now pretty much erafed) it was, perhaps, that we firft began, in good earnest, though reluctantly, to think of domestic improvement. But, from whatever cause the inducement originally fprung, the general idea foon produced particular inquiry; in confequence of which, it has been difcovered, that there was ample room for new settlements in parts of our own ifland, to which we have been greater frangers than we were to the banks of the Ohio; and we are now astonished to find that we have Banks at home, as prolific in fish as those of Newfoundland ! This is the second time that this fubject has engaged Mr Knox's attention; and not only that part of the country, of which he is a native, but the whole i fland, is under obligations to him, for his affiduity in exploring the riches of the Dorthern coafts, and in pointing out what he deems the proper line of conduct to convert them to the public advantage. No great hopes, he says, can be formed of agriculture there, in the first instance, though it may in fome degree follow as a fecondary object; contrary indeed to the ufual courfe of improvements, in which agriculture generally takes the lead: for our Author obferves, "The climate of the Highlands is peculiarly unfavourable to agriculture. The weft coaft, and the Hebride islands, are generally deluged with rains in the harvest-feafon. The glens and ftraths of the interior parts enjoy little fun, and before vegetation is brought to maturity, the weather breaks, the mountains pour down torrents of water upon the lower grounds, and heavy rains are fucceeded by fleet and fnow, which keep poffeffion of the heights till the April fun comes round, when the wretched farmer renews bis fruitless toils of the field. A all these years of famine, as they are called, the people, inftead of being able to pay any rent, muft be fupplied by the laird, his factor, or some trader, with the actual means of existence, till the grounds yield better crops. When one bad crop is fucceeded by another bad crop, as in the years 1782 and 3, the proprietor must either purchase grain from diftant parts to fupport his tenants, turn them out of doors, or fee them perish by flow degrees, through want. From thefe defects of climate, the people are ever in debt to the proprietors, or to the traders where they refide, and fometimes to both. Even in the comparatively fertile county of Caithness, the tenantry have not yet been able to pay for the grain, or meal, furnished them in thofe years by the gentlemen whofe lands they occupy. I have been informed from the beft authority, that the arrears upon one eftate in that county exceed four thousand pounds. Under these circumstances, it need be no matter of surprise, if gentlemen should embrace the tempting offers from sheepfarmers. One man will occupy the land that ftarved fifty or more families; be gives a double or treble rent, and is punctual to the day of payment; confequently numbers of ejected poor people are continually on the wing for America. To the plan of the British Society, and to that only, we are to look for an effectual remedy against this evil. It proposes to lay the foundation of fmall market towns, where the people may fupply themselves with grain, meal, falt, fishing-materials, and other neceffaries: where they may fell the produce of the earth and the fea, for ready money, and at a fair price; and finally, where all fuperfluous hands may find employment in fishing, fpinning, and small branches of manufacture. Confequently the tenantry, inftead of being a burden to the proprietors, will be able to give better rents, and to pay in a reafonable time, to the mutual advantage of both parties; and the extraordinary inducement to depopulation, by means of theep-farms, will cease. This leads to the propofition with which I fet out, That it will be good policy in the gentlemen of the Highlands, to treat with the British Society on the most liberal terms; otherwise their eftates mult remain in ftatu quo, or be gradually defo Under fuch a climate, the beft years are bad. Every third year, upon an average, is a year of famine; and it fome fimes happens, as in 1782, that the potatoes are froft-bitten as early as October, before the growth has ceased. In lated." After |