mass, as firm and solid as the other materials of the cooling process continuing, a coat of ice would form globe.*

on the surface, which would be a still better defence for the under portion, since water, in its solid state, is a much worse conductor than when a liquid. On the arrival of warm weather, the ice would immediately melt, and the water, by the process of mingling before described, would return en masse to the temperature of 40°. Above this degree the general body would be protected from rapid accessions of caloric, from the fact, that the upper portion would alone be exposed to such accession, except by the slow method of conduction. Thus, by this beautiful adjustment, the fish are defended from both extremes-their native element is so framed as to yield but very slowly to the influence of an external temperature, which is below, or above the healthful medium, and rapidly to return to this medium, when such influence is withdrawn. An examination of this single provision is enough to convince the devotee at the shrine of chance, of the folly of his creed. We could not, perhaps, in the whole field of science, obtain a more firm and simple basis on which to rest an argument, in proof of the exist

A consideration of these things cannot but convince the reader of the necessity of the fact, that water should form an exception to the general law that bodies are increased in volume by the addition of caloric, and diminished by its withdrawal. Let us examine whether such an exception has been made, and, if so, what law has been substituted. If we take a glass globe, containing a thermometer, and with a tube connected with it, and, having filled it to to the top of the tube with water, of which the temperature is above 40°, if we place it in a freezing atmosphere, as the water cools, it will sink in the tube, till the thermometer has fallen to 40°, whereupon it will begin to rise, and will continue to do so, till it freezes, at which stage of the cooling process the rapidity of the expansion will suddenly increase, and it will burst the globe. We learn from this, that water, at all temperatures above 40°, obeys the law of expansion common to other bodies-that from this degree, as its temperature diminishes, it expands in proportion to this diminution, till it reaches the freez-ence of the Deity. ing point, when a sudden expansion accompanies congelation, and that, consequently, 40° is its point of greatest density.

Thus we have selected a few of the more important properties of this wonderful liquid, that, by a consideration of their design and effect, we might awaken the reader's curiosity, and induce him to direct his attention to a more complete investigation of the sub

Let us see how this provision prevents the disasters of which we spoke-how it harmonizes with the general order of nature. Let us suppose, as before, aject than our limits will permit us to undertake—that collection of water, tenanted by fish, to be exposed to an atmosphere, of which the temperature is below the freezing point. The water at the surface would part with caloric, and, contracting, would give place to a lighter portion from below, which, in its turn, would sink; till the whole would, after a time, be reduced to the temperature of 40°, which suits very well the physical constitution of the fish. Here the vertical motion of the water would cease, for that portion which was at the surface, when this temperature was acquired throughout, would remain there, since a farther withdrawal of caloric would but increase its levity. Thus the lower part would be defended from the cold by that at the top, for, as we have already stated, this liquid is a bad conductor of heat. The

* We know not how far this might be prevented by the central heat of the earth, which, as is well known, increases with the distance from the surface.

he may satisfy himself, that what we have been treat. ing is not a rude and unorganized substance, the elements of which might have been thrown together by the blind operation of accident, but that it is highly finished and beautifully framed-the evident result of Creative Intelligence. Whether existing in freshness and purity in the spring which bursts from the moun. tain side, or in the river, which wends its way to the sea- -whether buried in the briny depths of the ocean, or rising unseen from the surface to mingle with the clouds-whether falling in rain to refresh the earth, or in snow to shield the vegetation from the cold-in whatever part of the vast laborator of nature it is engaged, it declares, in language which cannot be misunderstood,

London, had travelled upwards of six hundred miles to present it to the managers of the theatres; but, af ter being "tossed on the billows of disappointment for a length of time, her every hope was lost. But there was little doubt but that her poems would perpetuate her name, and that the dew drops of sympathy would fall when she would be no more." But the criticisms of the press sentenced Miss Macauley's "Effusions of Fancy" to merited perdition.

AMIDST the vast tribe of eccentric geniuses who threw up her engagement. The father of the tragehave strutted their time upon the English or Ameri-dian Macready was proprietor of the Bristol theatre; can stages, this lady deserves a conspicuous, if not he gave Miss Macauley a situation, which, strange to the foremost place. The dramatic annals afford no say, she held for four years; it is true, that she was parallel case of such continuous inconsistency and allowed to play every good part that she fancied, and fixed variation of purpose as marks her progress, had her own way in the direction of business, but either provincial or metropolitan. We can number a even that was not sufficient to keep her quiet in other tolerable catalogue of actors wonderful in their pro- places. While at Newcastle, she published a volume fessional or personal vanity, and disgusting in the dis- of poems called "Effusions of Fancy," in the preface play of their own opinions of this supposed excellence; to which she pathetically describes the fate of a trabut we never met with any one who so pertinacious-gedy which she had written; and in passing to and from ly crammed such opinions down the throats of managers and the much-abused public, as the subject of our presont remarks. We believe that the children of Thespis have more right to be termed the tribe "irritable" than the sons of Apollo, and Miss Macauley, having claims upon both families, seems to have concentred within herself the bile and venom of the unsuccessful of the two progenies. She received more than her share of " chances" in the theatrical world, and failed in them all-not so much from positive want of talent as from a constitutional pettishness and overruling vanity which prompted her to grumble at the proceedings of her friends, and to nullify the efforts of the managers, who might otherwise have found it to their interests to push her into popularity. | Miss Macauley was born in the old city of York, England, somewhere about fifty years ago. She imbibed the dramatic fervor at an early age, and before she had attained her fourteenth year, made her aptle of " Miss Macauley's Regalio, or Literary Amuse. pearance on the boards of the York theatre in the character of Sylvia, in the musical entertainment of Cymon. She then migrated to the other side of the island, and played at the Farnham, Gosport, and Arundel theatres, under the management of Bonnel Thorn-again, and, nothing daunted by her former failure, she ton, almost as great an eccentric as herself. Conceiv- went to London for the purpose of getting her piece ing that she possessed splendid talents for singing, she performed, but again her efforts were without sucwent to London, and placed herself under the musical cess. She was now well known in every professional direction of the celebrated Curri; but her vagrant circle, and much dreaded, from the fury of her tongue propensities returned, and she wandered into Ireland, and her well practised powers of mischief making. and made herself popular at the Dublin and Belfast About this time, she conceived a violent passion for theatres. Miss Walstein, a London actress of great the celebrated tragedian, George Frederick Cooke, repute, was engaged to "star" at Belfast, and serious-and publicly declared that she meant to marry him,

From Newcastle, she journeyed to Scarborough, and then to Southampton, and then to Dublin, where she produced an unsuccessful melo-drama, called " Marmion," the failure of which she kindly attribu ted to the apathy of the actors. The presence of Miss Walstein again drove her from the stage; and she produced a monopolologue, consisting of tales, songs, etc., mostly written by herself, and delivered by her in any convenient concert or ball room, under the ti

ments." This bold and unlady-like attempt proved profitless, and she accepted an engagement with Harry Johnston, at an opposition theatre in Ryder street, Dublin. Having written an opera, she left the stage

and was to be deterred from her purpose by death alone. That he was the most talented male creature living; and as she was the most gifted living daughter of Eve, it became an imperious duty that they should be joined together in bands of holy love, gracefully secured with the marriage chain. She averred that neither of them could possibly find an equal elsewhere, and being thus necessitated to marry or live single, it was an act imposed upon them by fate. But when they considered the wonderfully talented progeny that must spring from such a glorious union, they were unworthy the name of social beings, did they withhold such blessings from posterity. In further ance of her plans, she invited George to her house, and mixing up modicums of love with mutchkins of whiskey, continued to detain him for an hour or two. He never understood her hints on matrimony, and turned a deaf ear to her decree of fate. The reader must understand that Miss Macauley never could pretend to even a moderate share of good looks. One evening, when George had discussed the merits of many a mutchkin, a reverend gentleman was introduced from a neighboring apartment. George smoked the business of the “gentleman in black," and left the damsel and the divine to finish the whiskey, ‘D—— him or her," said George, "who would plan mischief over the bottle! If she could have made me insensibly drunk, I should have been put to bed, and in the morning she would have told me that I was her lawful husband. What an escape I have had from the subtle gorgon!"

of the poor. In this year, she published "An Address to the Public," in behalf of the same orphans, wherein she touched largely upon the sin of seduction, and offered some methods to prevent it!

Repeated applications to the Drury Lane managers eventually resulted in an engagement. She was surnmoned to rehearse Constance, in Shakspeare's play of | King John-Kean playing the hero. But Mr. Kean, in her opinion, was not a man of talent, and it was impossible for her, an embodiment of genius, to cooperate with a fellow whom she had known as an obscure actor in a provincial theatre. She was vulgarly rude to the great little man, who politely endured her insolence, and humored her egregious vanity. She appeared, and although not hissed, barely escaped condemnation. Each succeeding performance brought forth fresh insolence from her, till Kean, justly incensed, refused to play with her. She was tried in one or two other parts, but her success at least was doubtful; and at the termination of her engagement, the managers refused to renew it.

Delighting in excitement, she addressed violent letters to the London editors, containing fierce attacks upon Kean; which, very wisely, he refused to notice. Failing in her attempt to provoke the town against its favorite, she opened her "Regalio" at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, but without success. Mr. Buck, a noisy, empty headed author, conceiving himself injured by Mr. Kean, who had refused to play in his tragedy of " The Italians," printed it, with a furious tirade in the preface, which, being violent and vulgar, Finding that it was impossible to obtain the repre-attracted public attention. Miss Macauley, glad of an sentation of either opera or tragedy, she returned the excuse to "feed fat her ancient grudge," publicly MSS. to her trunk, and played a very short engage-read the play of "The Italians" during her entertainment at the Haymarket theatre in London. Then she ment, with remarks upon the beauties of the author, went to Southampton, and then to Edinborough, un- and the villany of the actor. Shortly afterwards, she der Mr. H. Siddons; but her stay there was extreme-published an attack upon managers in the shape of a ly short, for with that singular inconstancy of mind pamphlet, called "Theatrical Revolutions," but it fell peculiar to her character, she hastened to Newcastle, still-born from the press. and commenced giving instructions in music. This, Determined not to be daunted, she personally waitas might be expected, proved a total failure, and sheed on various of the nobility, and solicited their patronwas reduced to considerable straights. Mr. Thomp-age to her Regalio," which she gave several times son, a provincial low comedian, supplied her with money for several months, and prevented her positive starvation.

Mrs. Jordan, with that amiable exercise of charity for which this much-abused and ill-used woman was distinguished, interfered in behalf of Miss Macauley, and recommended her to the notice of the Drury Lane manager, but all negociations were broken off, from the insupportable arrogance and unbounded preten sions of the woman, who was absolutely without a shilling of her own. Elliston kindly gave her an engagement at the Birmingham theatre, which she quitted to perform sacred music at Sheffield.

in the Concert Room at the King's Theatre, prefacing her motley performance by a rude attack upon the Sub-Committee of Drury Lane, and the arch offender Kean. This speculation was the worst of all the bad; she was compelled to move her "traps" to Shade's Concert Room, Soho Square, where ill-luck still pursued her. The Covent Garden managers were in want of a heroine, and offered her terms for a few nights; she opened there in December, 1819, in a new play called "Mary Stuart," the same piece which Mr. Ternan had lately the impudence to assert was written expressly for his wife, Miss Fanny Jarman. Miss Macauley was a poor representative of Her entertainment, "The Regalio," was now re- the lovely queen of Scots, and notwithstanding her vived; and in 1818, she travelled through various sanguine prognostications of wonderful success, the parts of the British dominions, giving her perform whole affair terminated in inglorious failure. She ance, and announcing that the profits were to be be- appeared one night more, at her own desire, in Jane stowed upon the orphan daughters of naval and mili-Shore, but experienced a similar result. The manatary officers. But, like the Wandering Piper, her ex-gers were willing to pay her during the rest of her penses were so heavy, and the receipts so light, that engagement, although they resolved not to allow her but little overplus ever found its way into the pockets again to appear before the public upon their stage;

representing Cora, and selecting the same play for her benefit night, announced herself for that part, resigning her proper character of Elvira to a stock actress of inferior grade. Now," said Miss Macauley, strutting into the green room, behold the correct mode of dressing the South American Indian!" A small white muslin robe exquisitely frilled and flowered, was thrown negligently over one shoulder, ex posing the whole of one side of her bosom and back; her petticoat was looped Diana fashion, more than half way up her thigh, which, with her legs, feet,

but she claimed the fulfilment of her bond, ridiculed the charge of failure, and declared that with fair play, she could save the theatre from its otherwise inevita ble ruin. Fawcett, as stage manager, was commissioned to give her two hundred pounds, and send her off. She astonished the veteran by declaring in an exalted tone of voice that he had ruined her had taken a base advantage of her-and had mortally stabbed her reputation. The old man was alarmed, and demanded an explanation. "You have placed my name, sir, in letters smaller than Miss O'Neil, (then in her zenith,) which is a virtual acknowledge-hands and arms, were entirely bare, save the coloring ment of her superiority-a thing I never shall agree to." She drove him from the apartment in the midst of horrid threats of public and private vengeance.

necessary, in her imagination, for the skin of the Indian maid. Remonstrance was useless; she would appear in the dress, and consequently drove away the few respectable people whom her announcements had induced to enter the theatre. She meant no immodesty in this proceeding; her excessive vanity induced her to believe that her example was sufficient to stamp correctness upon any proceeding, however outré or repulsive.

It is almost impossible to give an overcharged idea of the self conceit indulged in by Miss Macauley, upon all occasions. After her failures at the two patent theatres, Drury Lane and Covent Garden, she visited several provincial establishments and played short and profitless engagements at some of the minor London theatres. At Bath, she evinced a specimen Having quarrelled with every manager in the kingof self-estimation somewhat similar to the conceit of dom, she was compelled in her own defence to turn John Dennis, the acute but growling critic, who hav-manager herself, or give up the practice of her proing written against the king of France, was horribly agitated at the proposal of a treaty of peace lest the French monarch should, in one of the articles, enforce the delivery of the terrified author to the pains and penalties of Gallic justice. On the first night of Miss Macauley's engagement at Bath, she seized hold of Charlton, the gentlemanly manager, and with evident perturbation, exclaimed, sotto voce, “Good God! why am I made the victim of such unheard-of persecution? do you see that stout man in the front row of the pit? observe with what intense anxiety he follows me with his eyes! I mean that man with the red nose, large cheeks, and immense corporation. That is cap tain Ford, in disguise. He has followed me post from London, at the desire of the whole of the female part of my profession, with the express intention of hooting me from the stage! Gracious heavens! to what lengths will the indulgence of vanity and envy drive poor human nature." "Poor mad thing!" said Charl--she insulted the ladies by her contemptuous deton, to the coterie in the green room, "I could not talk to her on the stage, but I knew very well that her fancied persecutor was no other than quiet old Jenkins, the tallow chandler."

Her vagaries at this time became more frequent and more preposterous. She quarrelled with every manager, and insulted every actor with whom she came in contact. It was impossible to please her. One night she would play Desdemona, and when the piece was announced for repetition, demand the part of Emilia-particularly if the lady who performed that character had made any impression upon the public. Nor were her variations confined to the opposite tragedy parts; she has been known to desire the repetition of the Foundling of the Forest, wherein she played Eugenia, for the sake of eclipsing Mrs. Alsop, who had delighted the audience by her exces sive sprightliness in the character of the waiting woman Rosabelle. One night, during the performance of Pizarro, she took offence at the dress of the lady

fession. Mr. Wilson, proprietor of the European Museum, King street, St. James's, was persuaded by Miss Macauley to fit up a theatre on his premises, and place it at her sole control. During the completion of the fittings, her whims were of the most aggravating kind; the paint, paper hangings. curtains, etc. were several times changed, after the arrangements had been deemed complete; and the orders given to the workmen to day were certain to be contradicted to-morrow, with an excess of temper that rendered their execution a work of peculiar aggravation. At last, the fanciful lady consented to be satisfied; a new edition of "The Regalio" was announced, and after a few nights, failed even to pay the expense of the lights. Applications were made to the nobility, offer. ing the use of this elegant little theatre for amateur performances. The scheme promised success; but Miss Macauley was not to be driven from her tenure

meanor, sneered at the lordlings, broke up the party, and compelled her friend and patron Wilson to take the benefit of the insolvent act, and sell off his estate by public auction, to pay the law expenses.

The Argyll Rooms, in Regent street, gave the next token of her "whereabout;" in addition to her usual allowance of serious and comic songs and speeches, she gave "Dramatic Illustrations of the Passions," and very curious specimens of positive madness were the passionate illustrations, which, when they failed to frighten the timid portions of the few adventurers in front, served as food for immoderate laughter. I have heard her recite with appropriate action, Belvidera's mad scene, wherein she would dash herself down upon the six feet square stage erected at one end of the room, and with frantic yells, tear at the boards with her distended fingers, as if digging up her Jaffier from the grave. In five minutes, she has appeared again, in a short round frock, or countryman's blouse, red wig, and squab hat, singing a comic fol-de-rol sort

of song in true Yorkshire dialect. Again, she would | standing up at one end of the room, recited a very, appear in her own proper apparel, with a blue-riband- very long poem of her own composition, on the death ed guitar slung round her neck, warbling a Spanish serenade most pathetically. Hic et ubique" seemed her chosen motto. You met with her at Birmingham and Brighton, and saw her bills as you passed through the metropolis on your way. She was to be heard of in Edinborough, and seen in Dublin-the same paper contained her advertisements of the Regalio" at Freemason's Hall, and a Lecture at some Mechanics' Institution. She has been before the public in every possible way. She has publicly preached the gospel at a small chapel in the neighborhood of Leicester Square, and exhibited herself in conjunction with those infidel scoundrels, Carlisle and Wright, "the Devil's Chaplain," at their Sabbath desecrations in Blackfriars' road. She has played at every theatre in London, and held her "gallimauffries" in each of the countless concert rooms in the metropolis and its boundless enirons.

Another letter was sent to the unsuspecting lady, thanking her for her kindness and condescension in attending to the wishes of a stranger, who had too great a sense of his own unworthiness to presume to solicit an interview, without the permission of the idol of his soul; and requesting her, if the letters were acceptable, to wear a pink feather, etc." The joke was again successful. Another letter, requesting permission to wait upon her, to be accorded by carryShe was once invited by lady Griesby to lionize being a nosegay in her delicate fingers. A bouquet of fore a large party of fashionables; she did so, and larger proportions than usual accompanied the letter,