trunks or stems. The leaves of these trees also absorb the copious dews which fall during the night, but in larger quanities at the full and change of the moon ; the birds then pierce them with their bills, for the moisture which they retain, and which, I believe, they also procure from the various plants and evergreens. But when the dews fail in the summer season, thousands of these creatures perish; for, on our return hither, we found great numbers of them dead in their nests, and some of them almost fledged. It may, however, be remarked, that this curious instinctive mode of finding a substitute for water, is not peculiar to the birds of this island; as nature has provided them with a similar resource in the fountain tree that flourishes in the isle of Ferro, one of the Canaries; and several other trees and canes, which Churchill tells us in his voyages, are to be found on the mountains of the Philippine islands."

ON PUNNING.

PUNS are decidedly rejected from all grave and sublime writings, as, in fact, what would be more ridiculous and absurd than a paltry pun in the midst of a fine pathetic scene? The whole beauty of the lines would be directly spoiled; it would either excite disgust in us, or if, perchance, a smile were raised, our thoughts would be immediately distracted from the sublimity of the subject, and soon sink in the exertion of a hearty laugh. I ween we should think it rather quaint were a pun to pop its head out of some of the brilliant strains of the once majestic Byron, or to appear in the wild luxuriant minstrelsy of Walter Scott; and if Moore, our Anacreon, were de scribing an enchanting parting scene, and as the fair one, half retreating, was pronouncing that "sad

dest of sad sounds, farewell," the glance of her receding eye was to strike deep into his heart; if, I say, he were depicting this scene, and were to write,

Eyes that wound like Parthians as they fly, I'm apt to think it would be rather a severe wound in Tommy's reputation: on entering some fair lady's bower, we should not hear her say, "Have you read Moore's last poem? The dear fellow! isn't it delightful?" No, no, Master Moore, you would certainly repent having let fly that pun.

This is sufficient to shew they would be mal-apropos in any serious compositions. But in conversation, in a small party of social friends, met together "en famille," then is the time for a pun; when, without being accused of rudeness or want of politesse, and without shrinking under the reproving coup-d'œil of some starched sexagenarian, (doomed, puir leddy, to pass her life in single blessedness, through this world of woe); then the prompt pun, the bright effusion of "wild wit," kindles a generous laugh, and is sure to disperse all the fumes of melancholy, and to substitute good-humour and delightful harmony. But the question is, what is a prompt pun? Why, one of your own making; none of the hackneyed standard puns of pseudo-punsters, through whom this kind of wit has sunk into disgrace, but one that the occasion calls forth, and which must instantly create mirth and laughter.

The following are what I deem common puns, and are therefore to be avoided. Travelling in a chaise, never put your head out of the window, and say you see no sign of an inn. Never say punning is the foundation of wit, because it is the lowest kind. any one slips on the hearth-rug, never attribute it to the earth being so rugged. Never say you were punished by so and so's puns. If a dog snaps at a

If

mutton-chop, and is beat away, say not he is chop-
fallen. If a gentleman closes his pew-door against
a lady, exclaim not "Proh pudor!" If you pass a
cottage, where paper closes a broken window, do not
say, the owner deals in sham-pane. Never talk
about the soldier's marching straight round the square.
In telling your story, never say they pitched upon
the tar. Never remark that all houses are turned
ale-houses; that matrimony is become a matter of
money; that some men's paradise is a pair of dice;
that they who are too fond of a drop will doubtless
be hung. In relating a story of two women fighting,
do not remark, that it is a singular circumstance;
do not say, that a lover, walking up Cheapside, sighed
oh, dear! If a man is cheated in his clothes, do not
notice it as an habitual error. Never mention that
at a meeting, the Duke of Sussex, or any other un-
weildy gentleman, added his personal weight to the
chair; that you are sure the coach you came by, was
the regulator for all the other coaches go by it. If a man
marries a widow, who turns out to be a bad charac-
ter, do not say that at all events he has not married
a miss. Say not a drunkun man is sure to pass from
Brighton to Ostend before a sober one, because he is
half seas over. Do not observe that such an one is
inamorato, always hammering after the females. Say
not a cobler is a physician of soles, because he reco-
vers them; that the king is no subject for ridicule,
though he is, nevertheless, very subject to fits of ge-
nerosity. On being asked to write a sonnet to the
sea, do not say, I wave the request; or on a lap-dog,
I dont exactly concur with you. Never say, if it
were not for the aspirate the tailor would heat his
goose; and a breath makes the altar a halter.
not remark that publicans are draughtsmen, having
many drawings, and frequently taking draughts from

Do

wood, some of them spirited productions, and tasty views near Cork, also possessing rum characters in chalk. Above all others, never pun on names, as Mr. Young will soon grow old in the service of the stage; that the Trees have shot up amazingly, and are now become pop'lar; that Kean is a sharp actor, &c. &c. &c.

It is the frequent occurrence of these puns, which by their eternal repetition soon cloy the ear, that induced Dr. Johnson to say, that he who would make a pun, would, if he dare, pick a man's pocket. What punning can have to do with that handy*-work called picking pockets, the Doctor himself alone can answer, unless, indeed, he wrote it for the sake of the alliteration. This, however, I leave to other moralists, and having thus explained my sentiments, make my bow and exit with all due submission and reveH. H.

rence.

DIONYSIUS THE ELDER.

Oppression, Tyranny, and Power usurped.-Cato.

THE man who comes forward to controvert any long received opinion, or well established fact, should be fully prepared with authorities to bear him out in all his assertions, for he may be assured that his attempt will be regarded with feelings of suspicion and distrust. There is a kind of superstitious veneration which inclines us to adhere with pertinacity to the ideas which we have formed of remarkable characters of antiquity, no matter whether good or bad. "I would not choose," says a French

The reader is no doubt ready to exclaim, "Physician heal thyself."

philosopher," to see an old post pulled up with which I have been long acquainted." And upon the same principle, every literary innovation is considered as little less than sacrilege. Though the account of past events which has been handed down to us by the ancients, ought not, perhaps, to be credited without due deliberation and enquiry; yet the "historic doubts " of the moderns should, in my opinion, be received with a still greater degree of caution and reluctance.

Having made these preliminary observations, I cannot help acknowledging that I was rather startled on perusing, in the Pocket Magazine," A Vindication of Dionysius the Elder," who is represented as combining in his character all that is great and good, and as a model of perfection in whatever light he be viewed, whether as a legislator, a hero, or a king. To give "my young friends" some idea of a man, whom all antiquity has agreed (so unjustly it seems) in condemning, I shall transcribe, from an approved writer, a short account of the extravagant enormities he practised, after he had invested himself with supreme power, at Syracuse. "His tyranny and cruelty at home," says Lemprieret, "rendered him edious in the eyes of his subjects, and he became so suspicious, that he never admitted his wife or children to his private apartment, without a previous examination of their garments. He never trusted his head to a barber, but always burnt his beard. He made a subterraneous cave in a rock, said to be still extant, in the form of a human ear, which measured 80 feet in height, and 250 in length; it was called the Ear of Dionysius. The sounds of this subterranean cave were all necessarily directed to one common Vol. 13, Page 328.

+ See his Classical Dictionary, (Art Dionysius) and the authorities there cited.