was so great, and his barbarism so cruel, that instead of granting mercy for some, which were made appear to be innocent, and petitioned for by the flower of the gentry of the said counties, he immediately executed; and so barbarously, that a very good gentlewoman at Dorchester, begging on her knees the life of a worthy gentleman, to marry him, and make him her husband, this vile wretch, having not common civility with him, and laying aside that honour and respect due to a person of her worth, told her, 'Come, I know your meaning; some part of your petition I will grant, which shall be, that after he is hanged and quartered, ***

and so I will give orders to the sheriff.' These, with many hundred more tyrannical acts, are ready to be made appear in the said counties, by honest and credible persons; and therefore your petitioners desire, that the said George Jeffreys, late Lord Chancellor, the vilest of men, may be brought down to the counties aforesaid, where we, the good women in the west, shall be glad to see him, and give him another manner of welcome than he had there three years since. And your petitioners shall ever pray," &c.

THE FALL OF THE ROSSBERG.

By the Rev. F. A. Cox, LL.D.

From an unpublished tour through France and Switzerland, in the year 1818.

AMIDST all the magnificence of Switzerland, there is nothing to surpass the grandeur of the scenery which encircles the summit of the Rigi, called the Rigi Culm. This mountain, situated near the Lake of Lucerne, is not, however, so remarkable for its elevation, as for the singularity and advantage of its position. You might imagine that the Creator of all things had thrown up a standing-place for the intelligent admirers of his works, in the centre of a vast amphitheatre, which is a kind of world in miniature, where beauty and sublimity occur in endless diversities, in continued alternations, and in eternal rivalry. From this point the spectator contemplates on the one side, beneath his feet, the lakes and less mountainous regions of Switzerland, stretching like a map to the far distant horizon; and on the other a semi-circle of the Alps, with their mighty breadth and snowcovered peaks. The day which had been devoted to the ascent of the Rigi, was one of perfect serenity and clearness. Over all the azure skies not a cloud was to be

seen; not a sound was to be heard; ali nature seemed to repose in sunshine and stillness: so that fancy might have deemed it a scene for angels to alight upon; a resting-place between heaven and earth!

A little below the Alpine ridges was to be seen a streak of brilliant clouds, which lifted them to an apparent height far superior to their real elevation, bewildering the imagination with an indistinct impression of scenery, that partook of a kind of celestial character. What superadded to the effect was the circumstance of a small white cloud, occasionally detached from the fleecy girdle, and wafted by some gentle breeze along the pure and peaceful atmosphere.

There was, however, one spot which partook of a very different character from the rest. No mind endowed even with the common sensibilities of our nature, could survey it without emotions of melancholy interest, for it was the grave of multitudes, who were suddenly precipitated into eternity by the fall of the mountain of Rossberg; an event distinctly traceable in the long strip of dusky brown, which bespoke ruin and desolation; and exhibited, as seen from the Rigi, a striking contrast with the surrounding verdure and fertility. In travelling towards the town of Art, we had previously stopped to examine the effects of the catastrophe, and to indulge in those reflections upon the uncertainty of life which are always calculated to benefit the mind, and which such a melancholy prospect was calculated to inspire.

;

The valley, once rich and fertile, but now partly filled up with huge and scattered fragments of earth, stretched along from the southern extremity of the Lake of Zug to that of the Lake of Lowertz, a distance of five or six miles. On one side, and in immediate proximity, the Rigi ascends to the height of about four thousand three hundred and fifty-six feet above the level of the Lake of Lucerne on the other, the Ruffiberg, or Rossberg, (more familiarly called the Rouffi) rises to about three thousand five hundred and sixteen. Both these masses belong to a chain of mountains, which, geologically considered, seem to have been formed of the fragments or debris, and rolled flints of the primitive mountains, which, being mingled with sand, or gravel and calcareous sediment, have formed these conglomerations which are technically denominated pudding-stone. In the neighbourhood they are commonly called Nagelflue, because they assume the appearance of a cement stuck all over with the heads of nails. It is obvious that from the nature of their formation, these masses

can acquire no great solidity, and must be easily operated upon by the external elements, or by internal forces.

Little, if any doubt, can be entertained that the Rigi and the Rossberg, were originally one mass, which was torn asunder by some convulsion of nature, accompanied probably by an irruption of waters from the south. Convincing proofs of this pristine union were visible before the last catastrophe, both in the colour and the direction of the rocky masses; and it should seem that even the whole valley of Art, now covered with verdure, woods, and orchards, formerly constituted a part of the Lake of Zug. The distance from Art to the village of Goldau, reckoning in the continental way, is about half an hour; whence was a distinct view of the Lake of Lowertz, with its two beautiful islands. The valley then enlarges, and by travelling southward, you reach Bussingen; thence coming round to Lowertz, the road is frequently shaded with noble trees, the cottages decorated with vines, and the whole of this Arcadia with pastoral simplicity. Ruin, however, has continually been at work in this favoured region. An old manuscript mentions the village of Röthen, which was built on that part of the Rossberg from which the portion of the mountain was separated in the last catastrophe, and which was destroyed by similar means.

Near the summit of the Rossberg was a solitary thatched cottage (chaumière), the inhabitant of which was alarmed by an unusual noise in the mountain, about two o'clock in the afternoon of September 2d, 1806. Superstitiously attributing it to some malignant demon, he immediately ran to Art for a clergyman to appease the evil spirit. During his absence the moment of the explosion rapidly approached. His wife in the meantime happily escaped with her infant child in her arms, terrified by the repeated crushing sounds she heard, which were followed by the falling of stones and fragments of rock. In a moment the cottage was swept away. Travellers, who were proceeding from Ober Art to Goldau, observed the top of the Rossberg in a state of agitation, while its trees and orchards appeared as if shook by some giant hand. The whole forest of Goldau was speedily overthrown with a tremendous crash. It was now five o'clock. The rapidity and force with which large masses of stone were driven to great distances can scarcely be imagined; we calculated that some, of no inconsiderable magnitude, were propelled at least an English mile, or perhaps half a league. Entire hills were thrown down, and others

substituted in their stead by the falling and rolling fragments. The Lake of Lowertz was suddenly raised above its banks, by the displacing of a considerable portion of its waters; while houses and villages, with their peaceable inhabitants, woods, meadows, pasturages, all disappeared at once! The consternation which seized upon the whole country, and the immediate and agitated search of surviving friends after parents, children, brothers, sisters, and neighbours, can neither be described nor forgotten. The laughing valley became at once, and for ever, a gloomy sepulchre !

It has been supposed, and with great probability, that the immediate cause of this calamity was long in preparation, by the gradual accumulation of water and rubbish in the interior of the mountain. This at length burst forth in a torrent of mingled mud and stone, which overwhelmed every thing in its course, and rushed into the Lake of Lowertz; while the woods and pastures on the surface suddenly sank into the unoccupied chasın. This opinion derives support from the statement of some shepherds, published at Schwytz, in which they speak of having discovered a cavern, at a considerable height up the mountain, the small opening of which was suddenly enlarged into the form of a prodigious arch. They add, that a collection of water was found within it, the extent of which they could neither explore nor fathom. At a greater elevation were several holes, into which, if a stone were thrown, there was found no reverberation; plainly indicating that the mountain was perforated in this manner to an unascertainable depth.

The extent of the mischief cannot, perhaps, be fully determined. The villages of Goldau and Busingen, with the hamlet of Hueloch, were covered with ruin; the same may be reported of the greater part of the village of Lowertz; while the loosened fragments rolled upon Unter and Ober-Röthen, and swept away a multitude of isolated habitations and buildings in the plain. The waters of the Lake of Lowertz, being forced in the opposite direction to the descending mass, endangered the village of Seven, on the other side of the lake, and even destroyed a few houses. On the little islet was found a vast accumulation of wrecks; and in the village of Steinen a quantity of fish had been driven with the waves, and floated about the streets.

It has been calculated that nearly one thousand persons suffered by this convulsion of nature, which was rendered more melancholy by the sudden and sur

prising manner of its occurrence. Several gentlemen and ladies of distinction, who were at the instant crossing the bridge of Goldau, perished; while some of their companions, who had preceded them only a short distance, were saved. One or two remarkable escapes have been narrated, which there is reason to believe are authentic.

A servant at the village of Busingen, fled into a barn: but the place of refuge soon afterwards became a perfect wreck. Providentially a beam was impeded by a fragment of rock, and thrown over his head in a slanting direction, so as to afford him an effectual protection from even the slightest injury. An infant at the breast was caught and borne along the surface of the agitated lake, till it was safely deposited in the neighbouring meadow. Some persons went from Lowertz to extricate, if possible, a servant girl from a most perilous situation, in consequence of the house in which she dwelt being overwhelmed with the torrent of mingled mud and stone. She had separated and returned from the fugitive family, wita whom she was attempting to effect her escape, to search for one of the children that was missing. At the moment of en. tering the house, it seemed to be swept along with great rapidity; and scarcely had she reached the apartment where she hoped to find the object of her pursuit, ere she found herself in darkness, and, to her own apprehensions, sinking as into a deep chasm. The voice of the child was distinctly heard, but she was incapable of stirring from the place to afford assistance. Concluding that all was lost, she told the child it was the end of the world, that all aid was impossible, and nothing remained but patiently and submissively to wait for death. During this conversation they heard, indistinctly, the sound of the evening bell at the village of Steinen, which in some degree inspired the hope of deliverance. Throughout the whole night, however, they numbered every hour, which successively was deemed their last, till, at the break of day, her master, who had come to search for his wife, but only to find her a stiffened corpse buried in the mud, was enabled to extricate both servant and child from their imminent danger. From the Amulet.

FAIRY GAMBOLS.

Night's silver lamp ascends the skies, By myriad splendid stars impearl'd, And bids her midnight beauties rise, To light and charm a wearied world.

Yon mould'ring turret's time-worn form,
Her soft and trembling beams illume,
She smiles amidst the coming storm,
And brightens from surrounding gloom.

Now the fleet-footed fairies lave
Their spotless limbs in pearly dew,
Or sit beside the lucid wave,

Or deck the scene that Spencer drew.

On some gay flow'rets emerald stem,
Perchance their magic feet alight;
Whose silvery sandals bear a gem,
Dropt from the starry sphere of night.

Or sprightly, o'er the spiral grass, With giddy graceful ease they glide; A dew-drop is their looking-glass, Their mirror is the sleeping tide.

When morning opes her cloudless eye,
The fairies reek their mossy cell;
There in soft emiling slumbers lie,
Till waken'd by the evening bell,
The Forget Me Not.

REMINISCENCES OF DRS. JOHN

SON AND GOLDSMITH.

AT the Literary Club held at the bottom of St. James Street, which was attended by most of the literary, and some of the political characters of the then period, at one of the dinners of the club, when was present Drs. Johnson and Goldsmith, Edmund Burke, Mr. Richard Burke, Dr. Percy, and a numerous company. It was remarked by one of the party that there was an offensive smell in the room, and he thought it must proceed from some dog that was under the table; but Mr. Burke, with a smile, turned to me, and said, " rather fear it is from the beef-steak pie that is opposite to us, the crust of which is made with some very bad butter, that comes from my country." Just at that moment Dr. Johnson sent his plate for some of it, and Burke helped him to very little, which he soon dispatched, and returned his plate for more; Burke without thought exclaimed, "I am glad that you are able so well to relish this beefsteak-pie." Johnson, not at all pleased that what he ate should ever be noticed, immediately retorted, "There is a time of life, Sir, when a man requires the repair of a table."

Before dinner was finished, Mr. Garrick came in full-dressed, made many apologies for being so much later than he intended, but he had been unexpectedly detained at the House of Lords, and Lord Camden had absolutely insisted upon setting him down at the door of the hotel in his own carriage. Johnson said nothing, but he looked a volume.

During the afternoon some literary dispute arose: but Johnson sat silent, till the Dean of Derry, very respectfully said, "We all wish, Sir, for your opinion on the subject." Johnson, inclined his head, and never shone more in his life than at that period; he replied, without any pomp, he was perfectly clear and explicit, full of the subject, and left nothing undetermined. There was a pause, and he was then hailed with astonishment by all the company. The evening in general passed off very pleasantly. Some talked perhaps for amusement, and others for victory. We sat very late, and the conversation that at last ensued, was the direct cause of my friend Goldsmith's poem, called "Retaliation."

Dr. Goldsmith and myself never quarrelled ; for he was convinced that I had a real regard for him, but a kind of civil sparring continually took place between us. You are so attached," says the Doctor," to Hurd, Gray, and Mason, that you think nothing good can proceed, but out of that formal school;-but now I'll mend Gray's elegy by leaving out an idle word in every line!" "And, for me, Doctor, completely spoil it."

"Cradock (after a pause), I am determined to come down in the country, and make some stay with you, and I will build you an ice-house."- "Indeed, my dear Doctor," I replied, you will not; you have got the strangest notion in the world of making amends to your friends wherever you go; I hope, if you favour me with a visit, that you will consider that your own company is the best recompense.' "Well," says Goldsmith, "that is civilly enough expressed; but I should like to build you an ice-house. I have built two already, they are perfect, and this should be a pattern to all your country."

“I dined yesterday," says he, laying down his papers, in company with three of your friends, and I talked at every thing.' ."" And they would spare you in nothing.""I cared not for that, I persisted; but I declare solemnly to you, that though I angled the whole evening I never once obtained a bite."

"You are all of you," continued he, "absolutely afraid of Johnson,-now I attack him boldly, and without the least

reserve."-" You do, Doctor, and sometimes catch a Tartar."-" If it were not for me, he would be insufferable: if you remember, the last time we ever supped together, he sat sulky and growling, but I resolved to fetch him out." "You did, and at last he told you that he would have no more of fooleries." your

It was always thought fair by some persons to make what stories they pleased of Dr. Goldsmith, and the following was freely circulated in ridicule of him, "That he attended the Fantoccini in Pentonstreet, and that from envy he wished to excel the dexterity of one of the puppets. Mr. Joseph Cradock was of the party, and remembered no more, than that the Doctor, the Rev. Mr. Ludlam of St. John's College, and some others, went together to see the puppet-show, that we were all greatly entertained, and many idle remarks might possibly be made by all of us during the evening. Mr. Ludlam afterwards laughingly declared, that he believed he must shut up all his experiments at Cambridge and Leicester in future, and take lectures only, during the winter, from Fantoccinis, and the expert mechanists of both the Royal Theatres."

The greatest real fault of Dr. Goldsmith was, that if he had thirty pounds in his pocket, he would go into certain companies in the country, and in hopes of doubling the sum, would generally return to town without any part of it.

One of the worst affrays that Dr. Goldsmith was ever engaged in, was with Evans the bookseller, of Paternoster-row. Evans was the editor of the Universal Magazine, and had suffered a most offensive article to be inserted therein, which turned to ridicule, not only the Doctor, but some ladies of the highest respectability. The Doctor, unfortunately, went to dine with the family in Westminster, just after they had read this insulting article, and they were all most highly indignant at it. The Doctor agonized all dinnertime; but as soon as possible afterwards, he stole away, set off in great haste for Paternoster-row, and caned Evans in his own shop. This was every way a terrible affair, and I privately consulted with Dr. Johnson concerning it. He said "that this at any time would have been highly prejudicial to Goldsmith, but particularly now," and he advised me, as I was intimate with both, that I should call upon Evans, and endeavour to get the matter adjusted. I followed his advice; and Evans really behaved very kindly to me on the occasion. I truly urged that "this publication had cut off Dr. Goldsmith from the society of one of the most friendly houses that he had ever frequented, and that he could not