“Qui de son sexe n’a pas l’esprit,
  De son sexe a tout le malheur.”

She thought like a man, but, alas! she felt like a woman; as witness the episode in her life with Monsieur Rocca, which she dared not avow, (I mean her marriage with him,) because she was more jealous of her reputation as a writer than a woman, and the faiblesse de coeur, this alliance proved she had not courage to affiche.—­New Monthly Mag.

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THE TOPOGRAPHER.

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REMARKABLE CAVES AT CRAVEN, IN YORKSHIRE.

The village of Malham is situated in a deep and verdant bottom, defective only in wood, at the union of two narrow valleys, respectively terminated at the distance of a mile by the Cove and Gordale.  The first of these is an immense crag of limestone, 286 feet high, stretched in the shape of the segment of a large circle, across the whole valley, and forming a termination at once so august and tremendous, that the imagination can scarcely figure any form or scale of rock within the bounds of probability that shall go beyond it.  The approach to this place, before the invention of machinery, was solitary and characteristic.  It is now polluted by one of those manufactories, of which it would he trifling to complain as nuisances only in the eye of taste.  Yet there are streams sufficiently copious, and valleys sufficiently deep, which man can neither mend nor spoil.  These might be abandoned to such deformed monsters without regret; but who that has either taste or eyes can endure them, when combined with such scenery as the environs of Malham, or the Banks of the Wharf.

                           Coarse complexions
  And cheeks of every grain will serve to ply
  The sampler, and to teaze the housewife’s wool;
  What need a vermeil, tinctured lip for that,
  Love-darting eyes, and tresses like the morn?

The approach to Gordale on the east side of the village, happily remains what nature left it, a stony and desolate valley, without a single object to divert the eye from the scene before it.  This is a solid mass of limestone, of perhaps equal height with the Cove, cleft asunder by some great convulsion of nature, and opening its “ponderous and marble jaws” on the right and left.  The sensation of horror on approaching it is increased by the projection of either side from its base, so that the two connivant rocks, though considerably distant at the bottom, admit only a narrow line of daylight from above.  At the very entrance you turn a little to the right, and are struck by a yawning mouth in the face of the opposite crag, whence the torrent pent up beyond, suddenly forced a passage, within the memory of man, which at every swell continues to spout out one of the boldest and most beautiful cataracts that can be conceived.