My real and hearty admiration for Shakspeare, pushes me irresistibly into further remarks on Voltaire's ill-conceived criticisms. He has partly translated Shakspeare's excellent play of" Julius Cæsar," which he ridiculously proposes to his countrymen, and all foreigners, as a proper and fair specimen, upon which they may form a judgment of the original author's genius, and be fully enabled to compare him with Corneille. In a note of p. 2, of this feeble translation, he says, "Il foit savoir que Shakspeare avait eu peu d'education, qu'il avait le malheur d'etre reduit a etre comedien, qu'il fallait plaire au peuple, que le peuple plus riche en Angleterre qu' allieurs frequente les spectacles, et que Shakspeare le servait selon son gout" i. e. "It must be observed that Shakspeare had but little education, that he was unfortunately reduced to the condition of, a, comedian; that he found it necessary to please the populace, who in England are richer than in other countries, and frequent the theatres; and Shakspeare adapted his entertainments to their taste."

If you expunge from the play of" Julius Cæsar," the representation of a giddy, fickle, and degenerate Roman mob, you diminish, in a very great degree, our estimation of the two noble republican characters;-the honest sincere philo sophical Brutus, and his brave, able, and ambitious friend Cassius. The just admirers and frequent readers of Shakspeare, will probably admit that these observations are clearly applicable to every one of his plays, in which low characters are introduced.

Shakspeare was incapable of deviating from the truth of nature and character, to please the great or little; and no dramatic writer ever treated the common people with so much contempt: his scenes in ridicule of them are as exquisite as they are various; though Voltaire has ignorantly alledged that he courted their favour. Of this the ludicrous characters and comic drollery of Dogberry the constable, and his low associates, in " Much ado about Nothing," is one proof. There is still a more precious scene, of the same kind, in that part of his play of" Henry the Sixth," where Jack Cade and his gang deliberate on a reformation of the state:

this is a singular piece of comedy and ridicule of low life, applicable to all periods, and to all nations; it has that character of eternal nature, which distinguishes Shakspeare.

NOTICES RESPECTING STERNE AND LA FLEUR.

LA FLEUR was a native of Burgundy, who kept a cabaret at Calais. He had sometimes been employed as a courier or emissary, being qualified for that kind of employment by his zeal and diligence. "There were moments (said he to an inquirer) in which my master appeared sunk into the deepest dejection-when his calls upon me for my services were so rare that I sometimes apprehensively pressed in upon his privacy, to suggest what I thought might divert his melancholy. He used to smile at my well-meant zeal, and, I could see, was happy to be relieved. At other times he seemed to have received a new soul-he launched into the levity natural à mon pays, and cried gaily enough, Vive la Bagatelle!"

Poor Maria-was, alas! no fiction.-" When we came up to her, she was groveling in the road like an infant, and throwing the dust upon her head-and yet few were more lovely! Upon Sterne's accosting her with tenderness, and raising her in his arms, she collected herself and resumed some composure-told him her tale of misery, and wept upon his breast-my master sobbed aloud. I saw her gently disengage herself from his arms, and she sang the service to the virgin my poor master covered his face with his hands, and walked by her side to the cottage where she lived :—there he talked earnestly to the old woman."

"Every day, while we stayed there, I carried to them meat and drink from the hotel, and when we departed from Moulines, my master left his blessings and some money with the mother. How much I know not-he always gave me more than he could well afford.

"Sterne was frequently at a loss upon his travels for ready money. Remittances were interrupted by war, and he had wrongly estimated his expenses-he had reckoned along the post-roads, without adverting to the wretchedness that was to call upon him in his way.

He wrote much, and to a late hour. La Fleur, being told of the inconsiderable quantity he had published, expressed extreme surprise. "I know," said he,“ upon our return from this tour, there was a large trunk completely filled with papers." "Do you know any thing of their tendency, La Fleur?" said the above-mentioned inquirer." Yes-they were miscellaneous remarks upon the manners of the different nations which he visited. In Italy, he was deeply engaged in making elaborate inquiries into the governments of the towns, and the characteristic peculiarities of the people."

To effect this he read much; for the collections of the patrons of literature were open to him; he observed more, Singular as it may seem, he endeavoured in vain to speak Italian. His valet acquired it on their journey; but his master, though he applied now and then, gave it up at length as unattainable.-"I the more wondered at this," said La Fleur, as he must have understood Latin."

The assertion, sanctioned by Johnson, that Sterne was licentious and dissolute in conversation, stands thus far contradicted by the testimony of La Fleur. "His conversation with women," he said, "was of the most interesting kind; he usually left them serious, if he did not find them so."

Lady's Magazine.

HIPPESLY'S DRUNKEN MAN.

So, here I am after all, thanks to a strong brain, a steady gait, and a sober understanding; the rascals thought to have sent me home drunk, but I came away as sober as I'd wish to be. I can't think what pleasure people take in getting drunk, it only serves to rob a man of his understanding, and makes his words totally un-in-tether-in-tether-able--Betty, Betty, bring me a pint of half and half, put it into one mug, and be sure you don't mix it, do you hear?-well, I'll set down a little, and then I'll go to bed-why the back of this chair is behind, and that's more than ever I saw beforewhat have we got here? the newspaper, well let us see(reads) "Yesterday as a certain great personage was going in his chaise to Windsor, he fell asleep with the candle in his hand, and set fire to the bed curtains:”—Well, that might have happened, and all from the carelessness of the driver. (Reads again) "Extract of a letter from Rome, -A few weeks ago, his Holiness the Pope, was brought to

bed of twins"-that's a damn'd lie.-(Reads again) " On Saturday next, the little Manager in the Haymarket will shut up his theatre,"—well, that's tit for tat, he has done all he can to shut up another man's theatre, and now he's obliged to shut up his own.- -(Reads again) "The theatre in Drury-Lane, will open on Saturday next, with the School for Scandal, and the Quaker," why that's a-propos enough, they have acted scandalously, and now are quaking for fear.

(Reads again) "On Monday, the Theatre-Royal, Covent Garden, will open with the Merry Wives of Windsor; or the Humours of Sir John Falstaff,"-why that's apropos too, for they have been leaning upon a false-staff all along.-(Reads again) "Deserted about the beginning of June last, Mr. Quick, comedian,"-deserted! why I never knew he was a soldier-Oh! deserted from the Royalty-Theatre I suppose they mean (Reads again) "Yesterday two gentlemen of property at the east end of the town were forced out of Covent-Garden Theatre for hissing, and carried before Sir Sampson Wright, who found out they were right, told them he did not at first ford into the business, but now he was able to dive into it; he perceived a small-Colman was at the bottom of it, was sorry they had been so Harris'd, and Quickly discharg'd'em."—(Rises.) I went to dine with my Lord what-d'-ye-call-um yesterday, and he took me to the race-ground to see his horse run, so he lost the first heat and won the second; so says J, "My lord, I give you joy;" "Joy of what?" says he, "Your horse is come in first at last,""First at last, what do you mean?""Why he came in behind before." I ask'd a friend the other day to go along with me to see the play of Hamlet Prince of Dunkirk." Hamlet Prince of Dunkirk," says he? "I never heard of such a man, and I have got all the Roman Emperors in my closet at home, but I don't know any of their names that begins with an H, except it be Titus Vespasian."-An odd accident happened in my family the other day; the coachman and cook quarrelled about who had travelled farthest, so in the scuffle the cook pushed the coachman into the dripping-pan; " damn me," says the coachman, "but I have travelled farther than you, for I have been into Greece," and so he had for he was all over grease.—I don't suppose there is a man happier than I am in a family-I have as good a wife as a man would wish to part with--and as fine children as a man would stick a

knife into, there's my little boy Tom, he writes two very fine hands, one he can't read himself, and the other nobody else can read for him ;-my boy Bill, had a terrible accident happened to him the other day, in turning round the corner of a street, he run against a lawyer, and has never been able to speak a word of truth since;-my little daughter Sal, is a sensible slut she was; in the kitchen the other day, and her mother was taking a red-hot iron out of the fire, to put into the heater, the child clapt her hand upon it, and damn me, if she did not take it away without bidding;-she's so sharp,' I don't think she can live long-she spent a week with the parson of the parish some time ago, and curse me, if she did not mend his black stockings with white worsted, and sent the parson hopping to church like a magpie.-Where the devil shall I hide my money to night, my wife always searches for it?! I'll put it in the bible, she never looks there! tho' she's very fond of the whole duty of man too;-she's very pious, she knocks off the heels of her shoes a Saturday night, that she mayn't go to church of a Sunday.-Betty, Betty, that damn'd jade goes up stairs forty times a day, and never comes down again:-Betty, I say Betty..

COOKE'S FOLLY.

On the summit of St. Vincent's rocks, in the neighbourhood of Clifton, looking on the Avon, as it rolls its lazy course towards the Bristol channel, stands an edifice, known by the name of "Cooke's Folly." It consists of a single round tower, and appears at a distance rather as the remnant of some extensive building than a complete and perfect edifice, as it now exists. It was built more than two centuries ago, by a man named Maurice Cooke-not indeed as a strong hold from the arms of a mortal enemy, but as a refuge from the evils of destiny. He was the proprietor of extensive estates in the neighbourhood; and while his lady was pregnant with her first child, as she was one evening walking in their domain, she encountered a strange-looking gipsy, who, pestering her for alms, received but a small sum. The man turned over the coin in his hand, and implored a larger gift. "That," said the lady," will buy you food for the present."

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Lady," said the man," it is not food for this wretched body