ted at first excites emotions in an Englishman of the most
unpleasant kind, which gradually subside, from the frequency with
which they are discussed by young and old; by high and low, of both
sexes.--_Foreign Quarterly Review_.

* * * * *

Notes of a Reader.

* * * * *

SIR WALTER SCOTT'S NEW WORK.

We detach this little descriptive gem from Sir Walter Scott's "Anne of
Geierstein," just published. An outline of this very delightful novel
will be found in a SUPPLEMENT with the present number of the MIRROR.

"The ancient tower of Geierstein, though neither extensive, nor
distinguished by architectural ornament, possessed an air of terrible
dignity by its position on the very verge of the opposite bank of the
torrent, which, just at the angle of the rock on which the ruins are
situated, falls sheer over a cascade of nearly a hundred feet in
height, and then rushes down the defile, through a trough of living
rock, which perhaps its waves have been deepening since time itself
had a commencement. Facing, and at the same time looking down upon
this eternal roar of waters, stood the old tower, built so close to
the verge of the precipice, that the buttresses with which the
architect had strengthened the foundation, seemed a part of the solid
rock itself, and a continuation of its perpendicular ascent. As usual,
throughout Europe in the feudal times, the principal part of the
building was a massive square pile, the decayed summit of which was
rendered picturesque, by flanking turrets of different sizes and
heights, some round, some angular, some ruinous, some tolerably
entire, varying the outline of the building as seen against the stormy
sky."

* * * * *

THORWALDSEN.

Since the death of his illustrious contemporary, Canova, Thorwaldsen,
born at Copenhagen in 1771-2, has occupied the public eye as head of
the modern school. The character and powers of this master are
doubtless of a very elevated rank: but neither in the extent nor
excellence of his works, do we apprehend his station to be so high as
sometimes placed. The genius of the Danish sculptor is forcible, yet
is its energy derived more from peculiarity than from real excellence.
His ideal springs less from imitation of the antique, or of nature,
than from the workings of his own individual mind--it is the creation
of a fancy seeking forcible effect in si