On the same MS. commences another composition, called _Praises of the great King Amemnengon_. There are only a few leaves of it, and they form the beginning of the history contained in the second roll. This Amemnengon is supposed to have reigned before Sesostris, because the author wrote in the ninth year of the reign of the latter. M. Champollion had not time to enter into a particular examination of these rolls. The third roll relates to astronomy or astrology, or more likely to both these subjects. It has not been far opened; but will probably prove of the utmost interest, if, as it is expected, it contains any account of the system of the heavens as known to or acknowledged by the Egyptians and Chaldeans, the authors of astronomical science. A small basaltic figure was purchased with the MSS., and it is supposed found with them. On the shoulders of the figure is written in hieroglyphic characters the name, with the addition of _clerk and friend of Sesostris_. It did not occur to ascertain, until M. Champollion was gone, whether the name on the figure was the same with any of those mentioned in the rolls as belonging to the historian, or to others.--_From the French_. * * * * * SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS. * * * * * THE VICAR. A SECOND EVERY-DAY CHARACTER. Some years ago, ere time and taste Had turn'd our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste, And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way between St. Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket, Was always shown across the Green, And guided to the parson's wicket. Back flew the bolt of lissom lath; Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveller up the path, Through clean clipt rows of box and myrtle. And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray, Upon the parlour steps collected, Wagg'd all their tails, and seem'd to say, "Our master knows you; you're expected." Uprose the Reverend Dr. Brown, Uprose the doctor's "winsome marrow;" The lady laid her knitting down, Her husband clasp'd his pond'rous Barrow: What'er the stranger's cast or creed, Pundit or Papist, saint or sinner, He found a stable for his steed, And welcome for himself, and dinner. If, when he reach'd his journey's end, And warm'd himself in court or college, He had not gain'd an honest friend, And twenty curious scraps of knowledge;-- If he departed as he came, With no new light on love or liquor,-- Good sooth, the traveller was to blame, And not the vicarage, nor the vicar. His talk was like a stream which runs With rapid change from rocks to roses: It slipp'd from politics to puns; It pass'd from Mahomet to Moses: Beginning with the laws which keep The planets in their radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep For dressing eels, or shoeing horses.