[We thank our ingenious Correspondent for the previous description of his recent aerial voyage, as we are fully aware of the difficulty of describing such a magnificent scene as he must have witnessed in his ascent. During the whole voyage, he experienced nothing but sensations of delight; the atmosphere being only disturbed by very light wind, just sufficient to waft the aeronauts without any laborious management, and the time--evening--being beautifully serene. We thought ourselves richly rewarded by the view of the Colosseum Panorama, but what must have been their sensations at a distance of 6,600 feet high, when with the huge machine they appeared little more than a speck. The varnish, or glare, which our Correspondent describes, was that charming effect which we are wont to admire here, on earth, in evening scenes, especially when they are lit up by the splendour of the setting sun; but which must be doubly enchanting when viewed from so great an altitude. He likewise tells us that the landscape appeared to recede like a moving panorama, whilst the balloon seemed to be stationary; so that the scenic attempt at Covent Garden Theatre, a few years since, to illustrate a balloon ascent, by moving scenery, was in accordance with the real effect, though, we think, the theatrical attempt was not so appreciated at the time it was made. In conclusion, we congratulate our friend upon his splendid recreation, for such his ascent must have been.] * * * * * PITY.--A FRAGMENT. (_For the Mirror_.) What is pity? 'Tis virtue's essence,--'tis benevolence Itself;--'tis mercy, justice, charity; It is the rarest boon that man doth give to man; It is the first perfection of our nature; It is the brightest attribute of heav'n: Without it man should rank beneath the brute; And with it--he is little lower than angel. The generous mite of penury is pity; Nay, ev'n a look.-- Not so the heartless pittance of the affluent, That is hypocrisy. If you pity, Your heart is liberal to forgive, Your memory to forget-- Your purse is open, and your hands are free To help the penniless. CYMBELINE. * * * * * THE PENDRILS. (_To the Editor of the Mirror_.)