COLONEL MACERONI'S MEMOIRS.

THESE Memoirs are the very romance of autobiography : they are amusing from the startling variety of incident; interesting from the light thrown upon the fate of the Duc ROW of BONAPARTE'S Gene- rals, MURAT; and instructive as an exhibition of individual cha- id,ter. ars,--• d. is a remarkable person; and this random sketch set his checquered career, succes- sively exhibits hint in the characters of a man of pleasure, is pstits. cal adventurer, a soldier of fortune, and a scheming projector. There is more to wonder at than admire in such a combination; but the gravest feeling excited is regret fur talents misdirected—or rather not directed at all—and good qualities obscured by folly and imprudence. If' the vanity of the hero excites a smile. his sufferings turn it to pity ; and his generous feeling and noble con- duct, on many occasions, are a set-off to his want of temper and discretion.

FRANCIS MACERONI is one of those characters of whom we say "be is no one's enemy but his own." Experiencing the ups and downs of fortune, but most of the latter—the very football of chance—he seems to have thrown away golden opportunities of arriving at independence, if not at fortune and distinction. Pos- sessed of strong natural talents, a robust frame and iron consti- tution,—and gifted, moreover, with energy and perseverance, two prime elements of success in life,—he wanted steadiness of pur- pose to turn these advantages to account. He seems to have lived without any aim beyond that of obeying the impulse of the moment ; whether it was his sympathy and benevolence, his love of display and enjoyment, or the mere restlessness of an active mind and a reckless disposition that prompted him to action. Too honest and disinterested to profit by the opportunities that the chapter of accidents turned up in his favour—his ingenuous and trusting nature indicating a simplicity strikingly contrasted with his personal intrepidity and adroitness—he became an easy prey to artful knaves and specious professing friends. In the autumn of an eventful life, with oppartunities and abilities the tithe of which would have sufficed to lay the foundation of his fortune had he possessed forethought and followed any plan of action—with no blot on his escutcheon save the foul one of poverty, but that rendered still more ugly by his violent liberalism—MACEROsit finds himself a beggar, with a wife and family all but starving. In this frightful state of destitution, which is but the climax of a long series of anxieties and privations enough to destroy the energies and break the heart of most men, Macs:loam keeps up his courage, and sticks by opinions and principles, the abandon- ment of which might even now open to him a road to advance- ment. It is impossible not to honour the fortitude and con- stancy of so brave and resolute a spirit. The MACERONE are an ancient and noble Italian family ; the last who bore the title of Marquis was the grandfather of our hero, and his wife a CONFALONIERI ; the family are also con- nected by marriage with the LEPRI and other noble houses, and e tjoy the doubtful honour of claiming kindred with MASSARO= the celebrated brigand. The Marquis having lost his property by the fraudulent conduct of the Papal Government, died after a lung and fruitless litigation to obtain redress; and left his children nothing but a title, a mansion, and a splendid tomb. The eldest son, the father of our author, settled in England as a commercial agent; and FRANCIS himself was born at Manchester. After being edu- cated at two or three Catholic schools, offshoots of the Douay Col- lege, young MACERONI was at fifteen sent to his uncle at Rome, and placed in TORLONI A's bank, where he was employed as a clerk and cicerone to the English visiters. He was next placed with a Mr. Bort...tux, a merchant, at Naples; but he had little inclina- tion for business ; and having a free command of money, with a fondness for sports and society, he spent his time in shooting, fishing, picnicking, and duelling ; and entered con amore into all the enjoyments of that luxurious city. Here and at Rome he made himself conspicuous by daring feats and mad freaks of all kinds—swimming out to sea tied to a large kite, and climbing up to the top of the cross on St. Peter's : he also established cricket and archery meetings at Naples ; taught ladies to swim ; pursued desultory studies and practised dangerous experiments, such as swallowing vipers' poison, eating live scorpions, taming snakes — in short, any thing that could gratify his passion for notoriety. This sort of dare-devil reputation recommended him to MURAT, then beginning to totter on the throne of Naples. The history of his connexion with that vain and rash, but gallant soldier, and his share in the eventful proceedings of 1814 and 1815, are already familiar to the public. This forms the principal part of the volumes before us ; and, though containing little that is new, is very full of interest and adventure : the coolness, intrepi- dity, and philosophy of MACERONI in the most critical situa- tions, are quite remarkable. His devotion to MURAT was worthy of a nobler cause and a better reward. Passing slightly over his unsuccessful expeditions to aid the Colombian cause—his futile mission to Turkey, to bring his newly-invented projectiles to bear against the Russians—and his offer of these destructive munitions of war to the Portuguese—he comes to the last and most promis-

ing effort of his fertile ingenuity, his locomotive steam-carriage for common roads. Want of funds alone seems to have prevented this, which was the only really successful engine of the kind, from becoming established as a conveyance. The inventor finally lost his two carriages, by a false friend, who took them abroad ; so that he has neither a carriage to run nor the means to construct one. No slight presumption of its efficiency, is the fact, that one engine propelled it five thousand miles in different journies, at the average rate of from fifteen to eighteen miles an hour. He

has since invented a new boiler, of which Mr. A. GORDON, the engineer, says, "I would engage that such a steam-carriage, with Colonel Maceroni's new boiler, should beat any horse of New- market, on any turnpike road." its construction is thna ennoiiely described.

This boiler weighs only eighty pounds at most, five horse power : it has no ..... or draught through the tire whatever. A cube of four feet each way possesses a twenty-four horse power : it can convert three gallons of water a

into nto dry steam of three hundred pounds pressure to the square inch. The water being contained in above one hundred separate cylinders, any inju- rious accident is impossible.

As the only means left to him of gaining a subsistence for him- self and his children, MACERONI now offers to teach broad and small sword fencing, pistol and rifle-shooting, chemistry, angling, geology, steam-carriage-making, languages, and a few other trifles, at any the smallest rate of remuneration : and he further proposes to publish a couple of volumes of tracts on these and a variety of scientific subjects, which he calls "My Opusculi ;" and to complete his Memoirs by a third volume, the contents of which are set forth at the end of the second.

The circumstances under which this work appears are such as to disarm criticism : only premising, therefore, that the narrative is interrupted by frequent digressions, and enlivened by nume- rous anecdotes, we merely offer a taste of the olla podrida.

FOLIAGE OF ITALIAN AND ENGLISH LANDSCAPES.

Only one thing concerning the picturesque, which so prevails in Italian scenery, I will add, as I have not seen it ever remarked upon. It is the admi- rable adtnixture of various-coloured vegetation, especially of trees, which gives such striking variety and beauty to an Italian prospect. Besides the difference of colour, the shapes and general appearance of the trees are beautifullyvarious. The monstrous one•shaped woods of chestnuts, oaks, and firs, are continually relieved by the tall bright poplar ; the gigantic pine, with its fiat broad cauli- flower top ; the towering cypress of sombre hue, contrasting with the bright- ness of the yellow walnut, bright vine, and pea-green plane tree. The white and blue olive, contrasted with the bright or golden wheat or maize beneath it. In fine, all the shapes and colours of ground and trees, of rocks and mountains, offer the most relieving contrasts in which picturesque harmony consists. But pray, gentle reader, look at the view from Richmond Hill, or any other hill of celebrated prospect, in this country of England. What a pity that our anxious eyes never discern any other trees than elm, elm, elm, with here and there horse-chestnuts, horae.chestouts; all our public parks elm, all our roads elm,

in every hedge-row elm, or else horse.chestnut, hurse-chestnut! Hence the monotony. Often have I thought what a great pity it is, that over the entire

face of this fine country, such comparatively worthless trees us elms and horse- chestnuts should be exclusively planted. Why not oaks and walnuts? Of the importance of the former I need not speak ; of the latter, both the timber and the fruit are very valuable.

EFFECTS OF AN EARTHQUAKE IN CALABRIA BURYING ALIVE.

After that the bodies of all the victims had been recovered, the melancholy fact was proved that full one-fourth of the number would have been saved had prompt means been found to disencumber them from their situation. The men were found to have expired in the act of making desperate efforts at disengage- ment. But the women were generally in an attitude of despair ; their hands extended over their heads, the fingers convulsively entwined amongst their hair. Not so with mothers who perished with their offspring : these all appeared to have been careless as to themselves, devoting all their thoughts to the preserva• tion of the infant. With their bodies extended and arched above their little ones, they seemed to hope to save them ; or, with arms and hands extended to- wards the spot where the child was found, it seemed, that although unable to

touch it, because of the few intervening ruins, they had the horrid conscious. ems of the vicinity. Many signal examples were exhibited of the heroism and vigour of men, and of the indomitable power of maternal affection. An infant was rescued clinging to the breast of its dead mother, and perfectly recovered, after being three days under the ruins. An uncle of my old friend and coal. rade, General William Pepe, was dug out alive on the fifth day. A lady with child was liberated by the sole labour of her husband, after being two days buried. Three days afterwards she was brought to bed ; and together with her child and husband lived many years. Being asked what sensations she felt in her horrid tomb, she replied, " I waited and waited with confidence, know- ing that my husband was alive." A girl of eleven years of age was dug out on the sixth day, and lived. Another aged sixteen, named Eloise Basil', remained buried eleven days, with an infant in her arms, which on the fourth day died ; so that, on their being delivered, the latter was in a state of putri- dity. The poor girl Eloise could not possibly liberate herself from the corpse of her little sister, being closely hemmed in by the ruins. A slight glimmer of light penetrated to her tomb which enabled her to count the returns of day. But other authority irrefragably established the facts of this surprising case and those already mentioned. Many cases of prolonged vitality in animals were more surprising than thole of the human species. Two mules lived under a mountain of ruins, one twenty-two days, the other twenty-three. A hen lived also twenty-two days, and two fat pigs thirty-two days. All of the human species, as well as the brutes thus ushered again to-day, preserved for a length of time a sort of stupid weakness, no desire to eat, an insatiable thirst, and an almost blindness.

Of the number saved, many men returned to their occupations healthy and in good spirits, while others remained ailing and melancholy. This dif er. ence was supposed in great part to depend on the period of their inhumation, and on the loss or preservation of hope in the different parties. The young Eloisa Basili, although very handsome, treated with every kindness and amuse- ment by her relations, was never after known to move her lips into any thing like a smile. All those who were buried for any length of time, when Interco. gated about their sensations, made fur answer—" So far I remember ; further I thought not, and know nothing." Must of those persons died at premature ages. Eloisa Basili, oppressed with melancholy, refused to marry ; neither would she retire to a convent, as recommended by some of her pious friends. Her only pleasure seemed to be in solitude. Seated under a tree, she would sit fur hours, her eyes averted from every habitation, and fixed upon the sea. On the appearance of an infant she involuntarily turned her head aside.

CLIMBING UP TO THE TOP OF ST. PETER'S.

Baron Rochow and myself were constant companions, and in our walks about Rome we were in the habit of attempting every difficult feat of climbing and leaping that fell in our way. One day a party of us, consisting of Rochow, Hullrnandel, Landou, Count Du Tertre, and myself, paid a visit to St. Peter's Church. Around the church, at the spring of the roof, is a broad cornice, and Rochow and I amused ourselves and horrified Landou and Du Tertre, by leap..

ing across the chasms formed by the cornices of the pilasters! Upon arriving at the top of the "lantern," on which is the ball and cross, we mounted the little iron ladder that turns under the ball like the " futtock shrouds " of a ship's top, and got to stand upon the ball. The French had placed there a lightning. conductor, rising about ten feet above the summit of the cross, to which it is attached by strong screw staples. By means of this rod (nearly two inches in diameter) we got upon the cross-top, and then I " swarmed" myself up the conductor, so us to et,11,race with any thighs a flange which at two feet from the point receives four thick wire stays attached to the ball below. In this position, my head was actually two feet above the golden point of the conductor. The wind, being very high, caused me to sway from side to side, in a manner un- pleasant to behold, while Hullmandel, Landou, and Rochow, were standing under me, on the arms of the cross. They all three resolved upon taking my place; so after attaching with copper wire to the point of the conductor a little leaden plate with our names engraved theron, and a riband six yards long, 1 de- scended to the cross, and my comrades, each in succession, swarmed up to the top of the conductor.

coven GRASS—A HINT TO FARMERS.

I further beg to call the attention of British agriculturists to the use which is made in Italy of "couch grass," which in this country is collected in the fields into heaps and burnt in pure waste. The long gramineous under•ground shoots of couch grass, in French called chien dent, in Italian gramminia, when fresh dug up, are crisp, tender, and of a flavour not unlike asparagus, but sweeter. Sarsaparilla is a near relation to it ; and Italian physicians as fie- quently order decoctions of the one as of the other to their scorbutic patients; and some assert that the gramminia is the better detergent of the two. But this is not the purpose to which I should like to see gramminia applied in this country, but as a most excellent, wholesome, and favourite article of food for horses. The children of an Italian peasant will follow the plough and the bar- row, and collect as much couch grass roots as pays for their own keep. After the couch is picked, it is well washed, and becomes as white as snow. It is then tied into bundles of about two feet long and six inches diameter, then kept in or well sprinkled with clean water, until served out to the purchaser, who himself generally throws the bundles in the never-failing clear fountain of an Italian courtyard, before he gives it to his horses. Of this gramminia, or of carrot, the Italians always give to their horses (in the spring and summer at least) a certain number of bundles every day at twelve o'clock. Upwards of forty thousand pounds sterling worth of gramminia is thus annually sold by the peasants to the inhabitants of the city of Naples alone. In this country, every bit of this valuable provender is burnt on the ground which produces it. In Italy the peasants are very thankful for being allowed to pick couch grass from off the fields, and often pay for it ; in England, many hands are employed, at wages, to pick it up and burn it.