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diff --git a/10838-h/10838-h.htm b/10838-h/10838-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0162bcc --- /dev/null +++ b/10838-h/10838-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2566 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, Vol. 13, Issue 350, January 3, 1829, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem p.i14 {margin-left: 9em;} + + .figure + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em; margin: auto;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + .figure p + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10838 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and +Instruction, Vol. 13, Issue 350, January 3, 1829, by Various</h1> + + +</pre> +<br /> +<br /> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a id="page1" name="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span> + + <h1>THE MIRROR<br /> + OF<br /> + LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.</h1> + <hr class="full" /> + + <table width="100%" summary="Volume, Number, and Date"> + <tr> + <td align="left"><b>Vol. 13. No. 350.</b></td> + <td align="center"><b>SATURDAY, JANUARY 3, 1829.</b></td> + <td align="right"><b>[PRICE 2d.</b></td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + +<h2>BRUCE CASTLE, TOTTENHAM.</h2> + +<div class="figure" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/350-001.png"><img width = "100%" src="images/350-001.png" alt="BRUCE CASTLE, TOTTENHAM." /></a></div> + +<p>The engraving represents this interesting +structure, as it appeared in the year 1686; +being copied from a print, after a picture +by Wolridge.</p> + +<p>The original castle was very ancient, as +appears by the foundations, and an old +brick tower over a deep well, the upper +part of which has been used as a dairy. +The castle is said to have been built by +Earl Waltheof, who, in 1069 married +Judith, niece to William the Conqueror, +who gave him the earldom of Northampton +and Huntingdon for her portion. +Matilda or Maud, their only child, after +the death of Simon St. Liz, her first husband, +married David, first of the name, +king of Scotland; and Maud, being +heiress of Huntingdon, had in her own +right, as an appendix to that honour, the +manor of Tottenham in Middlesex.</p> + +<p>Robert Bruce, grandson of David, +Earl of Huntingdon, and grandfather to +Robert I. of Scotland, memorable as the +restorer of the independence of his country, +became one of the competitors for +the crown of Scotland in 1290, but being +superseded by John Baliol, Bruce retired +to England, and settled at his grandfather's +estate at Tottenham, repaired the +castle, and acquiring another manor, called +it and the castle after his own name. +Shakspeare says,</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns,</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>and the fortunes of the two Bruces are +"confirmation strong as holy writ."</p> + +<p>The estate being forfeited to the crown, +it had different proprietors, till 1631, +when it was in the possession of Hugh +Hare, Lord Coleraine. Henry Hare, the +last Lord Coleraine of that family, having +been deserted by his wife, who obstinately +refused, for twenty years, to +return to him, formed a connexion with +Miss Roze Duplessis, a French lady, by +whom he had a daughter, born in Italy, +whom he named Henrietta Roza Peregrina, +and to whom he left all his estates. +This lady married the late Mr. Alderman +Townsend; but, being an alien, she +could not take the estates; and the will +being legally made, barred the heirs at +law; so that the estate escheated to the +crown. However, a grant of these estates, +confirmed by act of parliament, +was made to Mr. Townsend and his +lady, whose son, Henry Hare Townsend, +Esq. in 1792, voluntarily sold the property +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> +for the payment of the family debts; +and "although the castle may soon be +levelled with the ground, yet the destruction +of this ancient fabric will acquire +him more honour, than if the prudence +of his ancestors had enabled him to restore +the three towers, of which now only +one remains."<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + + + +<p>The present mansion is partly ancient, +and partly modern, and was very lately the +property of Sir William Curtis, Bart. +Up to the period at which the castle is represented +in the engraving, the building +must have undergone many alterations, +as the tower on the left, and the two +octagonal and centre towers, will prove. +The grounds there appear laid out in the +trim fashion of the seventeenth century, +and ornamented with fountains, vases, +&c.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>NEW YEAR'S CUSTOM.</h3> + +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> + + +<p>BROMLEY PAGETS, Staffordshire, is +129 miles from London, and is a pretty +town on the skirts of Derbyshire. This +place is remarkable, or was lately, for a +sport on New Year's Day and Twelfth +Day, called <i>The Hobby-Horse Dance</i>, +from a person who rode upon the image +of a horse, with a bow and arrow in his +hands, with which he made a snapping +noise, and kept time to the music, while +six men danced the hay and other country +dances, with as many deer's heads +on their shoulders. To this hobby-horse +belonged a pot, which the reeves of the +town kept filled with cakes and ale, towards +which the spectators contributed a +penny, and with the remainder they maintained +their poor and repaired the church.</p> + +<p>HALBERT H.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE BARON'S TRUMPET.</h3> + +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thou blowest for Hector.</p> +<p class="i14"> TROILUS and CRESSIDA.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Sound, sound the charge, when the wassel bowl</p> +<p class="i2">Is lifted with songs, let the trumpets shrill blast</p> +<p>Awaken like fire in the warrior's soul,</p> +<p class="i2">The bright recollections of chivalry past;</p> +<p>Let the lute or the lyre the soft stripling rejoice,</p> +<p>No music on earth is so sweet as thy voice.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sound, sound the charge when the foe is before us,</p> +<p class="i2">When the visors are closed and the lances are down,</p> +<p>If we fall, let the banner of victory o'er us</p> +<p class="i2">Dance time to thy clarion that sings our renown:</p> +<p>To the souls of the valiant no requiem is given,</p> +<p>So fit as thine echoes, to soothe them in heaven.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>LEON.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE NEW YEAR</h3> + +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Twenty-nine, Father Janus! and can it be true,</p> +<p>That your <i>double-fac'd</i> sconce is again in our view?</p> +<p>Take a chair, my old boy—while our glasses we fill,</p> +<p>And tell us, "what news"—for you can if you will.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Shall we have any war? or will there be peace?</p> +<p>Will swindlers, as usual, the credulous fleece?</p> +<p>Will the season produce us a <i>deluge</i> of rain?</p> +<p>Did the comet bring coughs and catarrhs in his train?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Will gas, so delicious, <i>perfume</i> our abodes?</p> +<p>Will McAdam continue "Colossus of <i>roads?</i>"</p> +<p>Will Venus's boy be abroad with his bow,</p> +<p>And make the dear girls over bachelors crow?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Will <i>quid-nuncs</i> from scandalous whispers refrain?</p> +<p>Will poets the pent of Parnassus attain?</p> +<p>Will travellers' tomes touch the truth to a T?</p> +<p>Will critics from caustic coercion be free?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Shall we check crafty care in his cunning career?</p> +<p>In short—shall we welcome a happy new year?</p> +<p>What, <i>mum</i>, Father Janus?—egad I suppose,</p> +<p>Not one of our queries you mean to disclose.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Let us, therefore, the blessings which Providence sends,</p> +<p>To our country, to us, our relations and friends,</p> +<p>With gratitude own—and employ the supplies,</p> +<p>As prudence suggests, "to be merry and wise."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Nor ever, too curious the future to pry,</p> +<p>Presume on our own feeble strength to rely;</p> +<p>But, taught by the <i>past;</i> for the <i>future</i>, depend</p> +<p>Where the wise and the good all their wishes extend.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>JACOBUS.</p> +<br /> + +<hr /> + +<h3>FALLING STONES.</h3> + +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> + + +<p>Of these bodies, the most general opinion +now is, that they are really of <i>celestial</i> +origin. But a few years ago, nothing +could have appeared more absurd than +the idea that we should ever be able to +examine the most minute fragment of the +siderial system; and it must, no doubt, +be reckoned among the wonders of the +age in which we live, that considerable +portions of these heavenly bodies are now +known to have descended to the earth. +An event so wonderful and unexpected +was at first received with incredulity and +ridicule; but we may now venture to +consider the fact as well established as +any other hypothesis of natural philosophy, +which does not actually admit of +mathematical demonstration. The attention +of our philosophers was first called +to this subject by the falling of one of +these masses of matter near Flamborough +Head, in Yorkshire; it weighed about 50 +pounds, and for some years after its descent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> +did not excite the interest it deserved, +nor would perhaps that attention +have been paid to it which was required +for the investigation of the truth, if a +similar and more striking phenomenon +had not happened a few years afterwards +at Benares, in the East Indies. Some +fragments of the stones which fell in +India were brought to Sir Joseph Banks +by Major Williams; and Sir Joseph being +desirous of knowing if there might not be +some truth in these repeated accounts of +falling stones, gave them to be analyzed, +when it was found by a very skilful analysis, +published in the Transactions, +1802, that the stones collected in various +countries, and to which a similar history +is attached, contained very peculiar ingredients, +and all of the same kind. The +earthy parts were silex and magnesia, in +which were interspersed small grains of +metallic iron. Since these investigations, +the subject has attracted very general attention, +and most of the fragments of +stones said to have fallen from heaven, +and which have been preserved in the +cabinets of the curious, on account of this +tradition, have been analyzed, and found +to consist of the same ingredients, varying +only in their different proportions.</p> + +<p>Pliny relates, that a great stone fell +near Egos Potamos, in the Thracian +Chersonese, in the second year of the +78th Olympiad. In the year 1706, another +large stone is, on the authority of +Paul Lucas, then at Larissa, said to have +fallen in Macedonia. It weighed 72 +pounds. Cardan assures us, that a shower +of at least 1,200 stones fell in Italy, the +largest of which weighed 120 pounds; +and their fall was accompanied by a great +light in the air.</p> + +<p>The caaba, or great black stone, preserved +by the Mahometans in the Temple +of Mecca, had probably a celestial origin. +It is said to have been brought from +heaven by the angel Gabriel. Some astronomers +imagine that these stones have +been thrown from a lunar volcano. There +is nothing, perhaps, philosophically inconsistent +in this theory, for volcanic appearances +have been seen in the moon; +and a force such as our volcanoes exert +would be sufficient to project fragments +that might possibly arrive at the surface +of the earth. But probability is certainly +against it, and it seems more likely that +they are fragments of comets. For those +bodies, from their own nature, must be +subject to chemical changes of a very violent +nature; add to this, that from the +smallness of their dimensions, a fragment +projected from them with a very slight +velocity would never return to the mass +to which it originally belonged; but +would traverse the celestial regions till it +met with some planetary or other body +sufficiently ponderous to attract it to itself.</p> + +<p>We have numerous other instances of +these phenomena, which are attested by +many very credible witnesses, but I will +not at present monopolize more of your +valuable pages with this subject, though +one of considerable interest; yet I may, +perhaps, at some future period, if agreeable, +send you a few rather more circumstantial +and more interesting accounts +than the above.</p> + +<p><i>Near Sheffield.</i></p> + +<p>J.M.C—— D.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE POET, CHATTERTON.</h3> + +<h4><i>(To the Editor of the Mirror.)</i></h4> + + +<p>Should the following notice of Chatterton, +which I copy from a <i>small handkerchief</i> +in my possession, be thought +worthy of a place in the MIRROR, you +will oblige me by inserting it. The +handkerchief has been in my possession +about twenty-five years, and was probably +printed soon after the poet's death; he is +represented sitting at a table, writing, in +a miserable apartment; behind him the +bed turned up, &c.</p> + +<p>SUFFOLK.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>The Distressed Poet, or a true representation +of the unfortunate Chatterton.</i></p> + +<p>The painting from which the engraving +was taken of the distressed poet, was the +work of a friend of the unfortunate +Chatterton. This friend drew him in the +situation in which he is represented in +this plate. Anxieties and cares had advanced +his life, and given him an older +look than was suited to his age. The +sorry apartment portrayed in the print, +the folded bed, the broken utensil below +it, the bottle, the farthing candle, and +the disorderly raiment of the bard, are +not inventions of fancy. They were +realities; and a satire upon an age and a +nation of which generosity is doubtless a +conspicuous characteristic. But poor +Chatterton was born under a bad star: +his passions were too impetuous, and in +a distracted moment he deprived himself +of an existence, which his genius, and +the fostering care of the public would +undoubtedly have rendered comfortable +and happy. Unknown and miserable +while alive, he now calls forth curiosity +and attention. Men of wit and learning +employ themselves to celebrate his talents, +and to express their approbation of his +writings. Hard indeed was his fate, born +to adorn the times in which he lived, yet +compelled to fall a victim to pride and +poverty! His destiny, cruel as it was, +gives a charm to his verses; and while +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> +the bright thought excites admiration, +the recollection of his miseries awakens a +tender sympathy and sorrow. Who +would not wish that he had been so fortunate +as to relieve a fellow creature so +accomplished, from wretchedness, despair, +and suicide?</p> + + +<h4>WRITTEN ON VIEWING THE PORTRAIT OF CHATTERTON.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! what a contrast in that face portray'd,</p> +<p>Where care and study cast alternate shade;</p> +<p>But view it well, and ask thy heart the cause,</p> +<p>Then chide, with honest warmth, that cold applause</p> +<p>Which counteracts the fostering breath of praise,</p> +<p>And shades with cypress the young poet's bays:</p> +<p>Pale and dejected, mark, how genius strives</p> +<p>With poverty, and mark, how well it thrives;</p> +<p>The shabby cov'ring of the gentle bard,</p> +<p>Regard it well, 'tis worthy thy regard,</p> +<p>The friendly cobweb, serving for a screen,</p> +<p>The chair, a part of what it once had been;</p> +<p>The bed, whereon th' unhappy victim slept</p> +<p>And oft unseen, in silent anguish, wept,</p> +<p>Or spent in dear delusive dreams, the night,</p> +<p>To wake, next morning, but to curse the light,</p> +<p>Too deep distress the artist's hand reveals;</p> +<p>But like a friend's the black'ning deed conceals;</p> +<p>Thus justice, to mild complacency bends,</p> +<p>And candour, all harsh influence, suspends.</p> +<p>Enthron'd, supreme in judgment, mercy sits,</p> +<p>And, in one breath condemns, applauds, acquits:</p> +<p>Whoe'er thou art, that shalt this face survey,</p> +<p>And turn, with cold disgust, thine eyes away.</p> +<p>Then bless thyself, that sloth and ignorance bred</p> +<p>Thee up in safety, and with plenty fed,</p> +<p>Peace to thy mem'ry! may the sable plume</p> +<p>Of dulness, round thy forehead ever bloom;</p> +<p>May'st thou, nor can I wish a greater curse;</p> +<p>Live full despis'd, and die without a nurse;</p> +<p>Or, if same wither'd hag, for sake of hire,</p> +<p>Should wash thy sheets, and cleanse thee from the mire,</p> +<p>Let her, when hunger peevishly demands</p> +<p>The dainty morsel from her barb'rous hands,</p> +<p>Insult, with hellish mirth, thy craving maw</p> +<p>And snatch it to herself, and call it law,</p> +<p>Till pinching famine waste thee to the bone</p> +<p>And break, at last, that solid heart of stone.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>LAY OF THE WANDERING ARAB.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Away, away, my barb and I,"</p> +<p class="i2">As free as wave, as fleet as wind,</p> +<p>We sweep the sands of Araby,</p> +<p class="i2">And leave a world of slaves behind.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Tis mine to range in this wild garb,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor e'er feel lonely though alone;</p> +<p>I would not change my Arab barb,</p> +<p class="i2">To mount a drowsy Sultan's throne.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Where the pale stranger dares not come,</p> +<p class="i2">Proud o'er my native sands I rove;</p> +<p>An Arab tent my only home,</p> +<p class="i2">An Arab maid my only love.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Here freedom dwells without a fear—</p> +<p class="i2">Coy to the world, she loves the wild;</p> +<p>Whoever brings a fetter here,</p> +<p class="i2">To chain the desert's fiery child.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> + +<p>What though the Frank may name with scorn,</p> +<p class="i2">Our barren clime, our realm of sand,</p> +<p>There were our thousand fathers born—</p> +<p class="i2">Oh, who would scorn his father's land?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It is not sands that form a waste,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor laughing fields a happy clime;</p> +<p>The spot, the most by Freedom graced,</p> +<p class="i2">Is where a man feels most sublime!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Away, away, my barb and I."</p> +<p class="i2">As free as wave as fleet as wind,</p> +<p>We sweep the sands of Araby,</p> +<p class="i2">And leave a world of slaves behind!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + + + +<h3>NOSTALGIA—MALADIE DE PAYS—CALENTURE.</h3> + +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> + + +<p>This disease, according to Dr. Darwin, +is an unconquerable desire of returning to +one's native country, frequent in long +voyages, in which the patients become so +insane, as to throw themselves into the +sea, mistaking it for green fields or +meadows:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>So, by a <i>calenture</i> misled,</p> +<p class="i2">The mariner with rapture sees,</p> +<p>On the smooth ocean's azure bed,</p> +<p class="i2">Enamell'd fields and verdant trees.</p> +<p>With eager haste he longs to rove</p> +<p class="i2">In that fantastic scene, and thinks</p> +<p>It must be some enchanting grove,</p> +<p class="i2">And in he leaps, and down he sinks.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>SWIFT.</p> +<br /> + +<p>The Swiss are said to be particularly +liable to this disease, and when taken into +foreign service, frequently to desert from +this cause, and especially after hearing or +singing a particular tune, which was used +in their village dances, in their native +country, on which account the playing or +singing this tune was forbidden by the +punishment of death.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Dear is that shed, to which his soul conforms,</p> +<p>And dear that hill, which lifts him to the storms."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>GOLDSMITH.</p> +<br /> + +<p>Rousseau says, "The celebrated Swiss +tune, called the <i>Rans des Vaches</i>, is an air, +so dear to the Swiss, that it was forbidden +under the pain of death to play it to the +troops, as it immediately drew tears from +them, and made those who heard it desert, +or die of what is called <i>la maladie de pays</i>, +so ardent a desire did it excite to return +to their native country. It is in vain to +seek in this air for energetic accents capable +of producing such astonishing effects, +for which strangers are unable to account +from the music, which is in itself uncouth +and wild. But it is from habit, +recollections, and a thousand circumstances +retraced in this tune by those natives +who hear it, and reminding them of +their country, former pleasures of their +youth, and all those ways of living, which +occasion a bitter reflection at having lost +them. Music, then, does not affect them +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> +as music, but as a reminiscence. This +air, though always the same, no longer +produces the same effects at present as it +did upon the Swiss formerly; for having +lost their taste for their first simplicity, +they no longer regret its loss when reminded +of it. So true it is, that we must +not seek in physical causes the great +effects of sound upon the human heart."</p> + +<p>This disease (says Dr. Winterbottom) +affects the natives of Africa as strongly +as it does those of Switzerland; it is even +more violent in its effects on the Africans, +and often impels them to dreadful acts of +suicide. Sometimes it plunges them into +a deep melancholy, which induces the unhappy +sufferers to end a miserable existence +by a more tedious, though equally +certain method, that of dirt eating.</p> + +<p>Such is the powerful influence of the +lore of one's native country.</p> + +<p>P.T.W.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>SINGULAR CUSTOM OF THE SULTAN OF TURKEY.</h3> + +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> + + +<p>After the opening of the Bairam,<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a> a +ceremony among the Turks, attended +with more than ordinary magnificence; +the Sultan, accompanied by the Grand +Signior and all the principal officers of +state, goes to exhibit himself to the people +in a kiosk, or tent near the seraglio +point, seated on a sofa of silver, brought +out for the occasion. It is a very large, +wooden couch covered with thick plates +of massive silver, highly burnished, and +there is little doubt from the form of it, +and the style in which it is ornamented +that it constituted part of the treasury of +the Greek emperors when Constantinople +was taken by the Turks.</p> + +<p>INA.</p> + + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>THE SKETCH-BOOK</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h3>EL BORRACHO.<a id="footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a></h3> + + + +<p>Not long since, a couple resided in the +suburbs of Madrid, named Perez and +Juana Donilla; and a happy couple they +might have been, had not Perez contracted +a sad habit of drinking, which became +more and more confirmed after every +draught of good wine; and such draughts +were certainly more frequent than his +finances were in a state to allow. Night +after night was spent at the tavern; fairly +might he be said to <i>swallow</i> all that he +earned by his daily labour; and Juana +and himself (fortunately they had no +children to maintain) must have been reduced +to absolute mendicity, but for the +exemplary conduct of the former, who +contrived to support her spouse and herself +upon the scanty produce of her unwearied +industry. If ever a sentiment of +gratitude for undeserved favours animated +the bosom of Perez Donilla, he took, it +must be confessed, a strange method of +declaring it; not only would he, upon his +return from his lawless carousals, grumble +over that humble fare, the possession of +which at all he ought to have considered +as scarce less than a miracle, but, in his +madness, unmerciful strappings were sure +to be the portion of his miserable wife. +Poor Juana bore these cruelties with a +patience that ought to have canonized her +under the title of St. Grizzle: she could +not, indeed, forbear crying out, under +these frequent and severe castigations; +nor could she refrain from soliciting the +aid of three or four favourite gentlemen +saints, who, little to the credit of their +gallantry and good-nature, always turned +a deaf ear upon her plaints and entreaties; +not a word, however, of the inhuman conduct +of her <i>worser</i> half did she breathe to +<i>mortal</i> ear. Neighbours, however, have +auricular organs like walls and little pitchers, +tongues like bells, and a spice of +meddling and mischief in them like asses; +so that no wise person will suppose the +conduct of Perez Donilla to his wife was +long a secret in Madrid. Juana had two +brothers and a cousin resident in the city—Gomez +Arias, chief cook to his reverence +the Canon Fernando; Hernan Arias, +head groom to Don Miguel de Corcoba, a +knight of Calatrava; and Pedro Pedrillo, +a young barber-surgeon, in business for +himself. Gomez and Hernan, hearing of +Juana's misfortunes, said, like affectionate +brothers. "God help our poor sister, and +may her own relations help her also; for +if <i>they</i> do not, nobody else will, and she +certainly can't help herself." The like +words they repeated to Pedro Pedrillo, +until he, being a sharp, handsome young +fellow, and particularly fond of showing +forth his fine person and finer wit, agreed +to visit his cousin, and contrive some plan +to extricate her from the cruelty of Perez. +Making himself, therefore, as fascinating +as possible, he marched directly to the +house, or rather cabin, of Juana Donilla, +and stood before her, smiling and watching +her small, thin fingers plaitting straw +for hats, some minutes ere she was aware +of his presence. "Pedro!" exclaimed +she, with a countenance and voice of pleasure, +as she recognised the intruder.—"Ay, +<i>Pedro</i> it is, indeed, Juana; but, +improved as <i>I</i> am. O, mercy upon me, +how black <i>you</i> are looking!"—"<i>Black</i>, +cousin? Nay, then, I'm sure 'tis not for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> +want of washing. Come, come, Pedro, +no jokes, if you please."—"By St. Jago, +fair cousin, I'm as far from a joke as I +am from a diploma; and my business in +this house, as in most houses, is no <i>jest</i>, +I assure you. In a word, the cries which +you utter when suffering from the insane +fury of your sottish husband have reached +even me, and I'm come to offer you a little +advice and assistance. No denial of the +fact, Juana; those black bruises avouch +it without a tongue."—Juana held down +her head, colour mounted into her cheeks, +tears suffused her eyes, her bosom heaved +convulsively, and for some moments she +was silent from confusion, shame, grief, +and gratitude. At length, withdrawing +her hand from the affectionate grasp of +Pedro, and dashing it athwart her eyes, +she looked up and said mildly, "Thanks, +many thanks, dear cousin, for your kindness. +I cannot dissemble with you; what +would you have me do? I could not +<i>beat</i> him in return; and, oh! save him +from the arm of my brothers!"—"What +have you always done?"—"Borne his +stripes, and called for help upon St. Jago, +St. Francis Xavier, St. Benedict, and St. +Nicholas!"—"And did you never invoke +the three holy Maries?"—"Never."—Then +that's what you ought to have done," +returned Senor Pedrillo, with the utmost +gravity. "Now mind me,—call upon +<i>them</i> for aid next time your husband maltreats +you."—"Alas!" sighed the afflicted +wife, "<i>that</i> will most surely be +to-night. I've not much faith in your +remedy, Pedro; but may be there's no +harm in trying it."—"Farewell, then, +my poor, pretty, patient, black-bruised +cousin," cried Pedrillo; "next time you +see the <i>doctor</i>, let him know how his remedy +has sped;" and with a comical expression +of countenance, half melancholy, +half mirthful, the "trusty and well-beloved +cousin" departed.</p> + +<p>Late that night, Perez Donilla entered +his own habitation as intoxicated and belligerent +as ever. "Where's my supper?"—"Here," +said his wife, trembling, as +she placed before him a few heads of garlic, +a piece of salted trout, a little oil, and +a crust of barley bread. "What's all +this, woman?" exclaimed Perez, in a +voice of thunder; and with glaring eyes +and demoniacal fury he dashed the fish at +her head, and the rest of his supper upon +the floor. "Wretch! how durst <i>you</i> +fatten upon olios and ragouts, and set +trash like <i>this</i> before your <i>husband?</i>"—"My +dear," replied Juana, meekly, "I +am starving; nothing have I tasted since +breakfast."—"Don't lie, you jade! +Where's the wild-fowl and the Bologna +sausage sent you by that rogue, Gomez? +Stolen were they from the canon's kitchen, +and you know it! And where's the skin +of excellent Calcavella, from the Caballero's +overflowing vaults? Give it to me +this <i>instant</i>, you hussy, you vixen, you—"—"Indeed, +<i>indeed</i>," cried the unfortunate +wife in deep anguish, "I take +all the saints in heaven to witness—."—"That, +and that, and <i>that</i>," interrupted +the furious tyrant, lashing her severely, +according to custom, with a thick thong +of leather, and now and then adding a +blow with his fist; "let's see if <i>that</i> will +bring me a supper fit for a Christian, and +a draught of Don Miguel's Calcavella!" +Juana remembered Pedrillo's advice, and +after roaring out more loudly than usual +for aid from St. Jago, St. Francis, St. +Benedict, and St. Nicholas, shrieked at +the highest pitch of her voice, "May the +three blessed Maries help me!" No +sooner were the words uttered, than in +rushed three apparitions, arrayed in white, +but so enfolded in lined, that it was impossible +to determine whether they represented +men or women; of their visages, +only their eyes were visible, peering frightfully +from the white covering of their +heads; each brandished a good stout +cudgel, and each, without uttering a word, +falling quick as thought upon Perez Donilla, +repaid him the blows he had lavished +on his unhappy wife with such interest, +as would have sealed his fate indubitably, +had not she interposed; but upon the entreaties +of that exemplary wife, the three +holy Maries remitted the remainder of +their flagellation, and retired, leaving +Perez senseless on the floor. Poor Juana +was agonized at beholding the state to +which her graceless partner was reduced, +and hauling him, as well as her own exhausted +strength would permit, upon his +miserable pallet, washed the blood and dust +from his wounds, and watched his return +to consciousness with unexampled tenderness +and dutiful fidelity. Perez at length +opened his eyes, and said, in the mild +voice which was natural to him when sober, +"My poor Juana, I wish you could fetch +your cousin Pedro to see me; I think I +shall die." Juana was half distracted at +this speech; and running to the next +house, bribed a neighbour's child by the +promise of a broad-brimmed straw hat, to +shade his complexion from the sun, to +run for Doctor Pedrillo. Pedro soon +arrived, and was evidently more puzzled +respecting his deportment than the case of +his patient. Sundry "nods, and becks, +and wreathed smiles," and sundry eloquent +glances of his bright black eyes, +were covertly bestowed upon his <i>fair</i> +cousin; anon, with ludicrous solemnity, +he felt the pulse of Perez, shook his head, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> +and, in short, imitated with inimitable +exactness all the technical airs and graces +of a regular graduate of Salamanca.—"Cousin," +cried he at length, with a sly +look at Juana, "I pity your plight—from +my soul I do; but your case is, I +am grieved to say, desperate, unless I am +informed of the <i>cause</i> of these monstrous +weals, bruises, slashes, and chafings, in +order that my prescription, may—"—"The +<i>cause</i> of them," said Perez, +almost frightened to death, "is, having +to my cost a <i>saint</i> of a wife."—"How! +that a <i>misfortune?</i> explain yourself, my +poor fellow."—"Readily," replied Donilla, +"if that will help to heal me."—He +then explained minutely the circumstances +of the case, concluding thus:—"Not +but what I am, after all, remarkably +indebted to Juana, for had she only +called the eleven thousand Virgins to her +assistance, their zeal would undoubtedly +have divided my body amongst them; +since, then, my wife has such friends in +heaven; I shall henceforth be careful how +I enrage them again."—Perez Donilla +kept to his resolution, and the <i>Three +Maries</i>, whom, without doubt, the intelligent +reader has recognised through their +disguise, lived for many years to rejoice +in the blessed effects of a severe, but merited +infliction. M. L. B.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THEATRICAL BILL.</h3> + + +<p>At a play acted in 1511, on the Feast of +St. Margaret, the following disbursements +were made as the charges of the exhibition:—</p> + + <table> + <thead> + <tr> + <th> </th> + + <th>£.</th> + + <th>s.</th> + + <th>d.</th> + </tr> + </thead> + + <tbody> + <tr> + <td>To musicians, for which, however, they were + bound to perform three nights</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>5</td> + + <td>6</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>For players, in bread and ale</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>3</td> + + <td>1</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>For decorations, dresses, and play-books</td> + + <td>1</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>0</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>To John Hobbard, priest, and author of the + piece</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>2</td> + + <td>8</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>For the place in which the representation was + held</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>1</td> + + <td>0</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>For furniture</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>1</td> + + <td>4</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>For fish and bread</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>4</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>For painting three phantoms and devils</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>6</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>And for four chickens for the hero</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>0</td> + + <td>4</td> + </tr> + </tbody> + </table> +<p>H. B. A.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h3>ROBINSON CRUSOE'S ISLAND.</h3> + + +<p>The United States ship, Vincennes, visited +the island of Juan Fernandez, off the +coast of Chili, a few months since, and +remained there three days. There were +two Yankees and six Otaheitans on the +island. The former had formed a settlement +for the purpose of supplying whale-ships +with water, poultry, and vegetables. +The soil is said to be astonishingly fertile.</p> + +<p>—<i>New York Shipping List, 1366.</i></p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE LETTER H.</h3> + +<h4><i>From an old History of England.</i></h4> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Not superstitiously I speak, but H his letter still</p> +<p>Hath been observed ominous to England's good or ill."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Humber the Hun, with foreign arms, did first the brutes invade;</p> +<p>Helen to Rome's imperial throne the British crown convey'd;</p> +<p>Hengist and Horsus first did plant the Saxons in this isle;</p> +<p>Hungar and Hubba first brought Danes, that sway'd here a long while;</p> +<p>At Harold had the Saxon end at Hardy Knute the Dane;</p> +<p>Henries the First and Second did restore the English reign;</p> +<p>Fourth Henry first for Lancaster did England's crown obtain;</p> +<p>Seventh Henry jarring Lancaster and York unites in peace;</p> +<p>Henry the Eighth did happily Rome's irreligion cease.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>CHURCH OF AUSTIN FRIARS.</h3> + + +<p>The church of Austin Friars is one of +the most ancient Gothic remains in the +City of London. It belonged to a priory +dedicated to St. Augustine, and was +founded for the friars Eremites of the +order of Hippo, in Africa, by Humphry +Bohun, Earl of Hereford and +Essex, 1253. A part of this once spacious +building was granted by Edward +VI. to a congregation of Germans and +other strangers, who fled hither from religious +persecutions. Several successive +princes have confirmed it to the Dutch, +by whom it has been used as a place of +worship. J.M.C.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>DAUPHIN OF FRANCE.</h3> + +<p>The heir apparent of the crown of France +derives his title of Dauphin from the following +very singular circumstance. In +1349, Hubert, second Count of Dauphiny, +being inconsolable for the loss of his heir +and only child, who had leaped from his +arms through a window of his palace at +Grenoble into the river Isere, entered into +a convent of jacobins, and ceded Dauphiny +to Philip, a younger son of Philip +of Valois (for 120,000 florins of gold +each of the value of twenty sols or ten +pence English,) on condition that the +eldest son of the king of France should +be always after styled "the Dauphin," +from the name of the province thus ceded. +Charles V., grandson to Philip of Valois, +was the first who bore the title in 1530.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> +<h2>THE OLD ELEPHANT,<br />FENCHURCH-STREET.</h2> + +<div class="figure" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/350-016.png"><img width = "100%" src="images/350-016.png" alt="THE OLD ELEPHANT, FENCHURCH-STREET." /></a></div> + + +<p>Everything connected with the name +of HOGARTH is interesting to the English +reader. He was apprenticed to a +silversmith, and from cutting cyphers on +silver spoons, he rose to be sergeant painter +to the king—and from engraving arms +and shop-bills, to painting kings and +queens—the very top of the artist's ladder. +The soul-breathing impulses of +genius enabled him to effect all this, and +his example, (in support of the maxim, +that "every man is the architect of his +own fortune,") will be respected and cherished, +at home and abroad, as long as +self-advancement continues to be the +great stimulus to aspiring industry.</p> + +<p>The old Elephant public-house therefore +merits the attention of all lovers of +painting and genius; for in it, previous +to his celebrity, lodged WILLIAM HOGARTH. +It was built before the fire of +London, and although so near, escaped +its ravages; but the house was pulled +down a short time since, and another of +more commodious construction erected on +its site. On the wall of the tap-room, in +the old house, were four paintings by +Hogarth: one representing the Hudson's +Bay Company's Porters; another, his +first idea for the Modern Midnight Conversation, +(differing from the print in a +circumstance too broad in its humour for +the graver,) and another of Harlequin and +Pierot seeming to be laughing at the +figure in the last picture. On the first +floor was a picture of Harlow Bush Fair, +covered over with paint. This information +is copied from an old print picked up +in our "collecting" rambles, at the foot +of which it is stated to have been obtained +from "Mrs. Hibbert, who has +kept the house between thirty and forty +years, and received her information relating +to Mr. Hogarth from persons at that +time well acquainted with him." The +paintings were, we believe, removed previous +to the destruction of the old +house.</p> + +<p>To the searchers into life and manners, +Hogarth's moral paintings, to which +branch of art the above belong, are treasures +of great prize; and whether over +his originals at the gallery in Pall Mall, +or their copies at the printsellers—the +Elephant in Fenchurch-street, or the +"painting moralist's" tomb in Chiswick +churchyard—Englishmen have just cause +to be proud of his name.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> +<h2>THE SELECTOR</h2> + +<h3>AND LITERARY NOTICES OF <i>NEW WORKS</i></h3> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>DAYS DEPARTED; OR, BANWELL HILL:</h3> + +<h4><i>A Lay of the Severn Sea, by the Rev. +W. Lisle Bowles.</i></h4> + + +<p>This is a delightful volume—full of nature +and truth—and in every respect +worthy of "one of the most elegant, pathetic, +and original living poets of England." +Moreover, it is just such a book +as we expected from the worthy vicar of +Bremhill; dedicated to the Bishop of +Bath and Wells; and dated from Bremhill +Parsonage, of which interesting abode +we inserted an unique description in our +last volume.</p> + +<p>As our principal object is to give a few +of the <i>poetical pictures</i>, we shall be very +brief with the prose, and merely quote an +outline of the poem. Mr. Bowles, it appears, +is a native of the district in which +he resides, and this circumstance introduces +some beautiful retrospective feelings:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10"> But awhile,</p> +<p>Here let me stand, and gaze upon the scene,</p> +<p>Array'd in living light around, and mark</p> +<p>The morning sunshine,—on that very shore</p> +<p>Where once a child I wander'd,—Oh! return</p> +<p>(I sigh,) "return a moment, days of youth,</p> +<p>Of childhood,—oh, return!" How vain the thought,</p> +<p>Vain as unmanly! yet the pensive Muse,</p> +<p>Unblam'd, may dally with imaginings;</p> +<p>For this wide view is like the scene of life,</p> +<p>Once travers'd o'er with carelessness and glee,</p> +<p>And we look back upon the vale of years,</p> +<p>And hear remembered voices, and behold,</p> +<p>In blended colours, images and shades</p> +<p>Long pass'd, now rising, as at Memory's call,</p> +<p>Again in softer light.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>The poem then proceeds with a description +of an antediluvian cave at Banwell, +and a brief sketch of events since +the deposit; but, as Mr. Bowles observes, +poetry and geological inquiry do not very +amicably travel together; we must, therefore, +soon get out of the cave:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">But issuing from the Cave—look round—behold</p> +<p>How proudly the majestic Severn rides</p> +<p>On the sea,—how gloriously in light</p> +<p>It rides! Along this solitary ridge,</p> +<p>Where smiles, but rare, the blue Campanula,</p> +<p>Among the thistles, and grey stones, that peep</p> +<p>Through the thin herbage—to the highest point</p> +<p>Of elevation, o'er the vale below,</p> +<p>Slow let us climb. First, look upon that flow'r</p> +<p>The lowly heath-bell, smiling at our feet.</p> +<p>How beautiful it smiles alone! The Pow'r,</p> +<p>that bade the great sea roar—that spread the Heav'ns—</p> +<p>That call'd the sun from darkness—deck'd that flow'r,</p> +<p>And bade it grace this bleak and barren hill.</p> +<p>Imagination, in her playful mood,</p> +<p>Might liken it to a poor village maid,</p> +<p>Lowly, but smiling in her lowliness,</p> +<p>And dress'd so neatly, as if ev'ry day</p> +<p>Were Sunday. And some melancholy Bard</p> +<p>Might, idly musing, thus discourse to it:—</p> +<p>"Daughter of Summer, who dost linger here.</p> +<p>Decking the thistly turf, and arid hill,</p> +<p>Unseen—let the majestic Dahlia</p> +<p>Glitter, an Empress, in her blazonry</p> +<p>Of beauty; let the stately Lily shine,</p> +<p>As snow-white as the breast of the proud Swan,</p> +<p>Sailing upon the blue lake silently,</p> +<p>That lifts her tall neck higher, as she views</p> +<p>The shadow in the stream! Such ladies bright</p> +<p>May reign unrivall'd, in their proud parterres!</p> +<p>Thou would'st not live with them; but if a voice,</p> +<p>Fancy, in shaping mood, might give to thee,</p> +<p>To the forsaken Primrose, thou would'st say,</p> +<p>'Come, live with me, and we two will rejoice:—</p> +<p>Nor want I company; for when the sea</p> +<p>Shines in the silent moonlight, elves and fays,</p> +<p>Gentle and delicate as Ariel,</p> +<p>That do their spiritings on these wild bolts—</p> +<p>Circle me in their dance, and sing such songs</p> +<p>As human ear ne'er heard!'"—But cease the strain,</p> +<p>Lest Wisdom, and severer Truth, should chide.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Next is a sketch of Steep Holms, introducing +the following exquisite episode:</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10"> Dreary; but on its steep</p> +<p>There is one native flower—the Piony.</p> +<p>She sits companionless, but yet not sad:</p> +<p>She has no sister of the summer-field,</p> +<p>That may rejoice with her when spring returns.</p> +<p>None, that in sympathy, may bend its head,</p> +<p>When the bleak winds blow hollow o'er the rock,</p> +<p>In autumn's gloom!—So Virtue, a fair flow'r,</p> +<p>Blooms on the rock of care, and though unseen,</p> +<p>It smiles in cold seclusion, and remote</p> +<p>From the world's flaunting fellowship, it wears</p> +<p>Like hermit Piety, that smile of peace,</p> +<p>In sickness, or in health, in joy or tears,</p> +<p>In summer-days, or cold adversity;</p> +<p>And still it feels Heav'n's breath, reviving, steal</p> +<p>On its lone breast—feels the warm blessedness</p> +<p>Of Heaven's own light about it, though its leaves</p> +<p>Are wet with ev'ning tears!</p> +<p class="i14"> So smiles this flow'r:</p> +<p>And if, perchance, my lay has dwelt too long.</p> +<p>Upon one flower which blooms in privacy,</p> +<p>I may a pardon find from human hearts,</p> +<p>For such was my poor Mother!<a id="footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a></p> + </div> </div> + + + +<p>We pass over some marine sketches, +which are worthy of the <i>Vernet</i> of poets, +a touching description of the sinking +of a packet-boat, and the first sound and +sight of the sea—the author's childhood +at Uphill Parsonage—his reminiscences +of the clock of Wells Cathedral—and some +real villatic sketches—a portrait of a +<i>Workhouse Girl</i>—some caustic remarks +on prosing and prig parsons, commentators, +and puritanical excrescences of sects—to +some unaffected lines on the village +school children of Castle-Combe, and +their annual festival. This is so charming +a picture of rural joy, that we must +copy it:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">If we would see the fruits of charity.</p> +<p>Look at that village group, and paint the scene.</p> +<p>Surrounded by a clear and silent stream,</p> +<p>Where the swift trout shoots from the sudden ray,</p> +<p>A rural mansion, on the level lawn,</p> +<p>Uplifts its ancient gables, whose slant shade</p> +<p>Is drawn, as with a line, from roof to porch,</p> +<p>Whilst all the rest is sunshine. O'er the trees</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> +<p>In front, the village-church, with pinnacles,</p> +<p>And light grey tow'r, appears, while to the right</p> +<p>An amphitheatre of oaks extends</p> +<p>Its sweep, till, more abrupt, a wooded knoll,</p> +<p>Where once a castle frown'd, closes the scene.</p> +<p>And see, an infant troop, with flags and drum,</p> +<p>Are marching o'er that bridge, beneath the woods,</p> +<p>On—to the table spread upon the lawn,</p> +<p>Raising their little hands when grace is said;</p> +<p>Whilst she, who taught them to lift up their hearts</p> +<p>In prayer, and to "remember, in their youth,"</p> +<p>God, "their Creator,"—mistress of the scene,</p> +<p>(Whom I remember once, as young,) looks on,</p> +<p>Blessing them in the silence of her heart.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And, children, now rejoice,—</p> +<p>Now—for the holidays of life are few;</p> +<p>Nor let the rustic minstrel tune, in vain,</p> +<p>The crack'd church-viol, resonant to-day,</p> +<p>Of mirth, though humble! Let the fiddle scrape</p> +<p>Its merriment, and let the joyous group</p> +<p>Dance, in a round, for soon the ills of life</p> +<p>Will come! Enough, if one day in the year,</p> +<p>If one brief day, of this brief life, be given</p> +<p>To mirth as innocent as yours!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Then we have an "aged widow" reading +"GOD'S own Word" at her cottage-door, +with her daughter kneeling beside +her—a sketch from those halcyon days, +when, in the beautiful allegory of Scripture, +"every man sat under his own fig-tree." +This is followed by the "Elysian +Tempe of Stourhead," the seat of Sir +Richard Colt Hoare, to whose talents and +benevolence Mr. Bowles pays a merited +tribute. Longleat, the residence of the +Bishop of Bath and Wells, succeeds; and +Marston, the abode of the Rev. Mr. Skurray, +a friend of the author from his +"youthful days," introduces the following +beautiful descriptive snatch:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">And witness thou,</p> +<p>Marston, the seat of my kind, honour'd friend—</p> +<p>My kind and honour'd friend, from youthful days.</p> +<p>Then wand'ring on the banks of Rhine, we saw</p> +<p>Cities and spires, beneath the mountains blue,</p> +<p>Gleaming; or vineyards creep from rock to rock;</p> +<p>Or unknown castles hang, as if in clouds;</p> +<p>Or heard the roaring of the cataract.</p> +<p>Far off,<a id="footnotetag5" name="footnotetag5"></a><a href="#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a> beneath the dark defile or gloom</p> +<p>Of ancient forests—till behold, in light,</p> +<p>Foaming and flashing, with enormous sweep,</p> +<p>Through the rent rocks—where, o'er the mist of spray,</p> +<p>The rainbow, like a fairy in her bow'r,</p> +<p>Is sleeping while it roars—that volume vast,</p> +<p>White, and with thunder's deaf'ning roar, comes down.</p> + </div> </div> + + + +<p>Part III. opens with the following metaphorical +gem:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The show'r is past—the heath-bell, at our feet,</p> +<p>Looks up, as with a smile, though the cold dew</p> +<p>Hangs yet within its cup, like Pity's tear</p> +<p>Upon the eye-lids of a village-child!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>This is succeeded by a poetic panorama +of views from the Severn to Bristol, introducing +a solitary ship at sea—and the +"solitary sand:"—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">No sound was heard,</p> +<p>Save of the sea-gull warping on the wind,</p> +<p>Or of the surge that broke along the shore,</p> +<p>Sad as the seas.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>A picture of Bristol is succeeded by +some scenes of great picturesque beauty—as +Wrington, the birth-place of the immortal +Locke; Blagdon, the rural rectory +of</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Langhorne, a pastor and a poet too;</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>and Barley-Wood, the seat of Mrs. Hannah +More. Mr. Bowles also tells us that +the music of "Auld Robin Gray" was +composed by Mr. Leaver, rector of Wrington; +and then adds a complimentary ballad +to Miss Stephens on the above air—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Sung by a maiden of the South, whose look—</p> +<p>(Although her song be sweet)—whose look, whose life,</p> +<p>Is sweeter than her song.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>The last Part (IV.) contains some exquisite +Sonnets, and the poem concludes +with a "Vision of the Deluge," and the +ascent of the Dove of the ark—in which +are many sublime touches of the mastery +of poetry. There are nearly forty pages +of Notes, for whose "lightness" and +garrulity Mr. Bowles apologizes.</p> + +<p>Altogether, we have been much gratified +with the present work. It contains +poetry after our own heart—the poetry of +nature and of truth—abounding with +tasteful and fervid imagery, but never +drawing too freely on the stores of fancy +for embellishment. We could detach +many passages that have charmed and +fascinated us in out reading; but one +must suffice for an epigrammatic exit:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>—<i>Hope's still light beyond the storms of Time.</i></p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>SCENERY OF THE OHIO.</h3> + + +<p>The heart must indeed be cold that would +not glow among scenes like these. Rightly +did the French call this stream <i>La Belle +Rivière</i>, (the beautiful river.) The +sprightly Canadian, plying his oar in cadence +with the wild notes of the boat-song, +could not fail to find his heart enlivened +by the beautiful symmetry of the +Ohio. Its current is always graceful, and +its shores every where romantic. Every +thing here is on a large scale. The eye +of the traveller is continually regaled with +magnificent scenes. Here are no pigmy +mounds dignified with the name of mountains, +no rivulets swelled into rivers. Nature +has worked with a rapid but masterly +hand; every touch is bold, and the whole +is grand as well as beautiful; while room +is left for art to embellish and fertilize +that which nature has created with a thousand +capabilities. There is much sameness +in the character of the scenery; but +that sameness is in itself delightful, as it +consists in the recurrence of noble traits, +which are too pleasing ever to be viewed +with indifference; like the regular features +which we sometimes find in the face of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> +lovely woman, their charm consists in +their own intrinsic gracefulness, rather +than in the variety of their expressions. +The Ohio has not the sprightly, fanciful +wildness of the Niagara, the St. Lawrence, +or the Susquehanna, whose impetuous +torrents, rushing over beds of rocks, or +dashing against the jutting cliffs, arrest +the ear by their murmurs, and delight the +eye with their eccentric wanderings. Neither +is it like the Hudson, margined at +one spot by the meadow and the village, +and overhung at another by threatening +precipices and stupendous mountains. It +has a wild, solemn, silent sweetness, peculiar +to itself. The noble stream, clear, +smooth, and unruffled, swept onward with +regular majestic force. Continually changing +its course, as it rolls from vale to vale, +it always winds with dignity, and avoiding +those acute angles, which are observable +in less powerful streams, sweeps +round in graceful bends, as if disdaining +the opposition to which nature forces it to +submit. On each side rise the romantic +hills, piled on each other to a tremendous +height; and between them are deep, abrupt, +silent glens, which at a distance +seem inaccessible to the human foot; +while the whole is covered with timber of +a gigantic size, and a luxuriant foliage of +the deepest hues. Throughout this scene +there is a pleasing solitariness, that speaks +peace to the mind, and invites the fancy +to soar abroad, among the tranquil haunts +of meditation. Sometimes the splashing +of the oar is heard, and the boatman's +song awakens the surrounding echoes; +but the most usual music is that of the +native songsters, whose melody steals +pleasingly on the ear, with every modulation, +at all hours, and in every change of +situation.—<i>Hon. Judge Hall's Letters +from the West</i>.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>SNOW-WOMAN'S STORY.</h3> + +<h4>By Miss Edgeworth.</h4> + + +<p>"Yes, madam, I bees an Englishwoman, +though so low now and untidy like—it's +a shame to think of it—a Manchester woman, +ma'am—and my people was once +in a bettermost sort of way—but sore +pinched latterly." She sighed, and paused.</p> + +<p>"I married an Irishman, madam," +continued she, and sighed again.</p> + +<p>"I hope he gave you no reason to +sigh," said Gerald's father.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no, sir, never!" answered the +Englishwoman, with a faint sweet smile. +"Brian Dermody is a good man, and +was always a koind husband to me, as +far and as long as ever he could, I will +say that—but my friends misliked him—no +help for it. He is a soldier, sir,—of +the forty-fifth. So I followed my husband's +fortins, as nat'ral, through the +world, till he was ordered to Ireland. +Then he brought the children over, and +settled us down there at Bogafin in a +little shop with his mother—a widow. +She was very koind too. But no need to +tire you with telling all. She married +again, ma'am, a man young enough to +be her son—a nice man he was to look at +too—a gentleman's servant he had been. +Then they set up in a public-house. +Then the whiskey, ma'am, that they bees +all so fond of—he took to drinking it in +the morning even, ma'am—and that was +bad, to my thinking."</p> + +<p>"Ay, indeed!" said Molly, with a +groan of sympathy; "oh the whiskey! +if men could keep from it!"</p> + +<p>"And if women could!" said Mr. +Crofton in a low voice.</p> + +<p>The Englishwoman looked up at him, +and then looked down, refraining from +assent to his smile.</p> + +<p>"My mother-in-law," continued she, +"was very koind to me all along, as far +as she could. But one thing she could +not do; that was, to pay me back the +money of husband's and mine that I lent +her. I thought this odd of her—and +hard. But then I did not know the ways +of the country in regard to never paying +debts."</p> + +<p>"Sure it's not the ways of all Ireland, +my dear," said Molly; "and it's only +them that has not that can't pay—how +can they?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—it's not for me to say," +said the Englishwoman, reservedly; "I +am a stranger. But I thought if they +could not pay me, they need not have kept +a jaunting-car."</p> + +<p>"Is it a jaunting-car?" cried Molly. +She pushed from her the chair on which +she was leaning—"Jaunting-car bodies! +and not to pay you!—I give them up intirely. +Ill-used you were, my poor Mrs. +Dermody—and a shame! and you a stranger! +But them were Connaught people. +I ask your pardon—finish your story."</p> + +<p>"It is finished, ma'am. They were +ruined, and all sold; and I could not stay +with my children to be a burthen. I +wrote to husband, and he wrote me word +to make my way to Dublin, if I could, to +a cousin of his in Pill-lane—here's the +direction—and that if he can get leave +from his colonel, who is a good gentleman, +he will be over to settle me somewhere, to +get my bread honest in a little shop, or +some way. I am used to work and hard-*ship; +so I don't mind. Brian was very +koind in his letter, and sent me all he +had—a pound, ma'am—and I set out +on my journey on foot, with the three +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> +children. The people on the road were +very koind and hospitable indeed; I have +nothing to say against the Irish for that; +they are more hospitabler a deal than in +England, though not always so honest. +Stranger as I was, I got on very well till +I came to the little village here hard by, +where my poor boy that is gone first fell +sick of the measles. His sickness, and the +'pot'ecary' stuff and all, and the lodging +and living ran me very low. But I paid +all, every farthing; and let none know +how poor I was, for I was ashamed, you +know, ma'am, or I am sure they would +have helped me, for they are a koind +people, I will say that for them, and +ought so to do, I am sure. Well, I +pawned some of my things, my cloak +even, and my silk bonnet, to pay honest; +and as I could not do no otherwise, I left +them in pawn, and, with the little money +I raised, I set out forwards on my road to +Dublin again, so soon as I thought my +boy was able to travel. I reckoned too +much upon his strength. We had got +but a few miles from the village when he +dropped, and could not get on; and I was +unwilling and ashamed to turn back, having +so little to pay for lodgings. I saw a +kind of hut, or shed, by the side of a hill. +There was nobody in it. It was empty +of every thing but some straw, and a few +turf, the remains of a fire. I thought +there would be no harm in taking shelter +in it for my children and myself for the +night. The people never came back to +whom it belonged, and the next day my +poor boy was worse; he had a fever this +time. Then the snow came on. We had +some little store of provisions that had +been made up for us for the journey to +Dublin, else we must have perished when +we were snowed up. I am sure the people +in the village never know'd that we were +in that hut, or they would have come to +help us, for they bees very koind people. +There must have been a day and a night +that passed, I think, of which I know +nothing. It was all a dream. When I +got up from my illness, I found my boy +dead—and the others with famished looks. +Then I had to see them faint with hunger."</p> + +<p>The poor woman had told her story +without any attempt to make it pathetic, +and thus far without apparent emotion or +change of voice; but when she came to +this part, and spoke of her children, her +voice changed and failed—she could only +add, looking at Gerald, "You know the +rest, master; Heaven bless you!"</p> + +<p><i>The Christmas Box</i></p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE COSMOPOLITE.</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h3>ENGLISH GARDENS.</h3> + + +<p>We are veritable sticklers for old customs; +and accordingly at this season of +the year, have our room decorated with +holly and other characteristic evergreens. +For the last hour we have been seated +before a fine bundle of these festive trophies; +and, strange as it may seem, this +circumstance gave rise to the following +paper. The holly reminded us of the +Czar Peter spoiling the garden-hedge at +Sayes Court; this led us to John Evelyn, +the father of English gardening: and the +laurels drove us into shrubbery nooks, +and all the retrospections of our early +days, and above all to our early love of +gardens. Our enthusiasm was then unaffected +and uninfluenced by great examples; +we had neither heard nor read of +Lord Bacon nor Sir William Temple, nor +any other illustrious writer on gardening; +but this love was the pure offspring of our +own mind and heart. Planting and transplanting +were our delight; the seed which +our tiny hands let fall into the bosom of +the earth, we almost watched peeping +through little clods, after the kind and +quickening showers of spring; and we +regarded the germinating of an upturned +bean with all the surprise and curiosity +of our nature. As we grew in mind and +stature, we learned the loftier lessons of +philosophy, and threw aside the "Pocket +Gardener," for the sublime chapters of +Bacon and Temple; and as the stream +of life carried us into its vortex, we learned +to contemplate their pages as the living +parterres of a garden, and their bright +imageries as fascinating flowers. As we +journeyed onward through the busy herds +of crowded cities, we learned the holier +influences of gardens in reflecting that a +garden has been the scene of man's birth—his +fall—and proffered redemption.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to find a subject +which has been more fervently treated by +poets and philosophers, than the <i>love of +gardens</i>. In old Rome, poets sung of +their gardens. Ovid is so fond of flowers, +that in his account of the Rape of Proserpine, +in his Fasti, he devotes several +lines to the enumeration of flowers gathered +by her attendants. But the passion +for gardening, which evidently came from +the East, never prevailed much in Europe +till the times of the religious orders, who +greatly improved it.</p> + +<p>Our anecdotical recollections of the +taste for gardens must be but few, or +they will carry us beyond our limits. +Lord Bacon appears to have done more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> +towards their encouragement than any +other writer, and his essay on gardens +is too well known to admit of quotation. +Sir William Temple has, however, +many eloquent passages in his writings, +in one of which he calls <i>gardening</i> the +"inclination of kings, the choice of philosophers, +and the common favourite of +public and private men; a pleasure of +the greatest, and the care of the meanest; +and, indeed, an employment and a possession, +for which no man is too high or too +low." Perhaps John Evelyn did more +than either of these philosophers. Temple's +garden at Moor Park was one of the +most beautiful of its kind; but at the +time when Evelyn introduced ornamental +gardening into England, there were no +examples for imitation. All was devised +by his own active mind; and in the political +storms of his time, his garden and +plantations became subjects of popular +conversation; while the intervals of his +secession from public life were filled up +in writing several practical treatises on his +favourite science. At Wotton, in Surrey, +may be seen the large, enclosed +flower-garden, which was to have formed +one of the principal objects in his "Elysium +Britannicum;" and this idea has +been partly realized by one of his successors.</p> + +<p>Andrew Marvell has, however, anathematized +gardens with much severity, in +some lines entitled "The Mower against +Gardens;" and commencing thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Luxurious man, to bring his vice in use,</p> +<p class="i2">Did after him the world seduce,</p> +<p>And from the fields the flowers and plants allure,</p> +<p class="i2">Where nature was most plain and pure.</p> +<p>He first enclos'd within the garden's square</p> +<p class="i2">A dead and standing pool of air;</p> +<p>And a more luscious earth from them did knead,</p> +<p class="i2">Which stupify'd them while it fed, &c,</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>On the other side, old Gerarde asks +his courteous and well-willing readers—"Whither +do all men walk for their +honest recreation, but where the earth has +most beneficially painted her face with +flourishing colours? and what season of +the year more longed for than the spring, +whose gentle breath entices forth the +kindly sweets, and makes them yield +their fragrant smells." Lord Bacon, too, +thus fondly dwells on part of its allurements:—"That +flower, which above all +others yields the sweetest smell in the air, +is the violet. Next to that is the musk-rose, +then the strawberry leaves, dying +with a most excellent cordial smell. +Then sweet briars, then wall flowers, +which are very delightful to be set under +a parlour, or lower chamber window. +But those which perfume the air most delightfully, +not passed by as the rest, but +being trodden upon and crushed, are +three, that is burner, wild thyme, and +water mints. Therefore, you are to set +whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure +where you walk or tread." Sir William +Temple says Epicurus studied, exercised, +and taught his philosophy in his +garden. Milton, we know, passed many +hours together in his garden at Chalfont; +Cowley poured forth the greatness of his +soul in his rural retreat at Chertsey; and +Lord Shaftesbury wrote his "Characteristics," +at a delightful spot near Reigate. +Pope, in one of his letters, says, "I am +in my garden, amused and easy; this is +a scene where one finds no disappointment;"—and +within the same neighbourhood, Thomson</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Sung the Seasons and their change."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>England can likewise boast of very +great names who have been attached to +this art, though they have not written on +the subject. Lord Burleigh, Sir Walter +Raleigh, Lord Capell, William III—for +Switzer tells us, that "in the least interval +of ease, gardening took up a great +part of his time, in which he was not only +a delighter, but likewise a great judge,"—the +Earl of Essex, whom Lord William +Russell said "was the worthiest, the +justest, the sincerest, and the most concerned +for the public, of any man he +ever knew;" Lord William Russell too, +who, as Switzer tells us, "made Stratton, +about seven miles from Winchester, +his seat, and his gardens there were some +of the best that were made in those early +days, such indeed as have mocked some +that have been done since, and the gardens +at Southampton House, in Bloomsbury +Square, were also of his making." +Henry, Earl of Danby, the Earl of Gainsborough, +"the <i>Maecenas</i> of his age," the +Earl of Halifax, the friend of Addison, +Swift, Pope, and Steele; Lord Weymouth, +of Longleate; Dr. Sherard, of +Eltham; the Earl of Scarborough, an +accomplished nobleman, immortalized by +Pope, and by the fine pen of Chesterfield; +and the Duke of Argyle, with numerous +other men of rank and science, have +highly assisted in elevating gardening to +the station it has long since held.<a id="footnotetag6" name="footnotetag6"></a><a href="#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a></p> + + +<p>Beauty and health are the attributes of +gardening. In illustration of the former, +we remember a passage from Gervase +Markham, thus: "As in the composition +of a delicate woman the grace of her +cheeke is the mixture of red and white, +the wonder of her eye blacke and white, +and the beauty of her hand blew and +white, any of which is not said to be +beautifull if it consist of single or simple +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> +colours; and so in walkes or alleyes, the +all greene, nor the all yellow, cannot be +said to be most beautifull; but the greene +and yellow, (that is to say the untroade +grasse, and the well-knit gravelle) being +equally mixt, give the eye both lustre +and delight beyond comparison." Abercrombie +lived to the age of <i>eighty</i>, when +he died by a fall down stairs in the dark. +He was present at the battle of Preston +Pans, which was fought close to his father's +garden walls. For the last twenty +years he lived chiefly on tea, using it +three times a-day; his pipe was his first +companion in the morning, and last at +night. He never remembered to have +taken a dose of physic in his life; prior +to his last fatal accident, nor of having a +day's illness but once."</p> + +<p>The association of gardening with pastoral +poetry, was exemplified in Shenstone's +design of the Leasowes—as Mr. +Whately observes—a perfect picture of +his mind, simple, elegant, and amiable, +and which will always suggest a doubt +whether the spot inspired his verses, or +whether in the scenes which he formed, +he only realized the pastoral images +which abound in his songs. That elegant +trifler, Horace Walpole, was enthusiastically +fond of gardening. One day +telling his nurseryman that he would +have his trees planted irregularly, he replied, +"Yes, sir, I understand; you +would have them hung down—somewhat +<i>poetical</i>."</p> + +<p>PHILO.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>NOTES OF A READER.</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h3>PORTRAIT OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.</h3> + + +<p>Appended to a fine portrait of Sir Walter +Scott, in the <i>Literary Souvenir</i> for +1829, is the following—by <i>Barry Cornwall</i>:—</p> + +<p>We can scarcely imagine a thing much +more pleasant indeed, to an artist, than +to be brought face to face with some +famous person, and permitted to examine +and scrutinize his features, with that careful +and intense curiosity, that seems necessary +to the perfecting a likeness. It +must have been to Raffaelle, at once a +relaxation from his ordinary study, and a +circumstance interesting in itself, thus to +look into faces so full of meaning as those +of Julius and Leo—and to say, "That +look—that glance, which seems so transient, +will I fix for ever. Thus shall he +be seen, with that exact expression (although +it lasted but for an instant) five +hundred years after he shall be dust and +ashes!"</p> + +<p>This was probably the feeling of +Raffaelle; and it must have been with a +somewhat similar pride that our excellent +artist, Mr. Leslie, accomplished his +portrait of Sir Walter Scott, which the +reader will have already admired in this +volume. It is surely a perfect work. No +one, who has once seen the great author, +can forget that strange and peculiar look +(so full of meaning, and shrewd and cautious +observation—so entirely characteristic, +in short, of the mind within) which +Mr. Leslie has succeeded in catching. +One may gaze on it for ever, and contemplate +an exhaustless subject—all that the +capacious imagination has produced and +is producing,—the populous, endless +world of fancy.</p> + +<p>Let the reader look, and be assured +that <i>there</i> is the strange spirit that has +discovered and wrought all the fine +shapes that he has been accustomed to +look upon with wonder—Claverhouse, +and Burley, and Bothwell,—Meg Merrilies +and Elspeth—the high and the low—the +fierce and the fair—Cavaliers and +Covenanters, and the rest—presenting an +assemblage of character that is absolutely +unequalled, except in the pages of Shakspeare +alone. There is no other writer, +be he Greek, or Goth, or Roman, who +has ever astonished the world by creations +so infinitely diversified. The mind +of the author appears so free from egotism, +so large and serene, so clear of all +images of self, that it receives, as in a +lucid mirror, all the varieties of nature.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>ON A GIRL SLEEPING.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou liv'st! yet how profoundly deep</p> +<p>The silence of thy tranquil sleep!</p> +<p class="i2">Like death it almost seems:</p> +<p>So all unbroke the sighs which flow</p> +<p>From thy calm breast of spotless snow,</p> +<p class="i2">Like music heard in dreams.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy soul is filled with gentle thought,</p> +<p>Unto its shrine by angels brought</p> +<p class="i2">From Heaven's supreme abode;</p> +<p>Thy dreams are not of earthly things,</p> +<p>But, borne upon Religion's wings,</p> +<p class="i2">They lift thee up to God.</p> + </div> </div> +<p><i>Blackwood's Magazine.</i></p> + + +<hr /> + + +<p>A species of <i>fames canina</i> is to be met +with amongst schoolboys, which affects +the <i>juveniles</i> most when most in health. +We remember a gentleman offering a +wager, that a boy taken promiscuously +from any of the public charity-schools, +should, five minutes after his dinner, eat +a pound of beef-steaks.—<i>Brande's Jour.</i></p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE GIPSY'S MALISON.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Suck, baby, suck, mother's love grows by giving,</p> +<p>Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting;</p> +<p>Black manhood comes, when riotous guilty living</p> +<p>Hands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> +<p>Kiss, baby, kiss, mother's lips shine by kisses,</p> +<p>Choke the warm breath that else would fail in blessings;</p> +<p>Black manhood comes, when turbulent guilty blisses</p> +<p>Tender thee the kiss that poisons 'mid caressings.</p> +<p>Hang, baby, hang, mother's love loves such forces,</p> +<p>Strain the fond neck that bends still to thy clinging:</p> +<p>Black manhood comes, when violent lawless courses</p> +<p>Leave thee a spectacle in rude air swinging.—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So sang a wither'd Sibyl energetical,</p> +<p>And bann'd the ungiving door with lips prophetical.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>C. LAMB. <i>Blackwood's Magazine.</i></p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>EPICURES.</h3> + + +<p>As a mere untravelled practical Englishman, +and, moreover, of the old school, +Quin, no doubt, ranks high in the lists +of gastronomy: but he is completely distanced +by many moderns, both in love +for and knowledge of the science. Among +the most noted of the moderns we beg to +introduce our readers to Mr. Rogerson, an +enthusiast and a martyr. He, as may be +presumed, was educated at that University +where the rudiments of palatic science +are the most thoroughly impressed +on the ductile organs of youth. His father, +a gentleman of Gloucestershire, +sent him abroad to make the grand tour, +upon which journey, says our informant, +young Rogerson attended to nothing but +the various modes of cookery, and methods +of eating and drinking luxuriously. +Before his return his father died, and he +entered into the possession of a very large +monied fortune, and a small landed estate. +He was now able to look over his notes of +epicurism, and to discover where the +most exquisite dishes were to be had, and +the best cooks procured. He had no other +servants in his house than men cooks; +his butler, footman, housekeeper, coachman, +and grooms, were all cooks. He +had three Italian cooks, one from Florence, +another from Sienna, and a third +from Viterbo, for dressing one dish, the +<i>docce piccante</i> of Florence. He had a +messenger constantly on the road between +Brittany and London, to bring him the +eggs of a certain sort of plover, found +near St. Maloes. He has eaten a single +dinner at the expense of fifty-eight +pounds, though himself only sat down to +it, and there were but two dishes. He +counted the minutes between meals, and +seemed totally absorbed in the idea, or in +the action of eating, yet his stomach was +very small; it was the exquisite flavour +alone, that he sought. In nine years he +found his table dreadfully abridged by the +ruin of his fortune; and himself hastening +to poverty. This made him melancholy, +and brought on disease. When +totally ruined, having spent near 150,000l., +a friend gave him a guinea to keep him +from starving; and he was found in a +garret soon after roasting an ortolan with +his own hands. We regret to add, that +a few days afterwards, this extraordinary +youth shot himself. We hope that his +notes are not lost to the dining world.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>COLLEGE DREAMS.</h3> + + +<p>How often in senior common-rooms may +be marked the gradual dropping asleep +of the learned and venerable members! +First, after a few rounds of the bottle, +the tongues, which are tired of eulogizing +or vituperating the various dishes which +had smoked upon the board, gradually +begin to be still,—soon conversation +comes absolutely to a stand,—the candles +grow alarmingly long in the wick,—comparative +darkness involves the sage assembly,—and +first one, then another, +drops off into a placid and harmonious repose. +Then what dreams float before the +eyes of their imagination! Blue silk +pelisses jostling shovel hats, church spires +dancing in most admired disorder, fat +incumbents falling down in a fit, neat +clerical-looking gigs standing at vicarage +doors, and these all incongruously commingled +with white veils, lawn sleeves, +roast beef, pulpit cushions, bright eyes, +and small black sarsnet shoes. Suddenly +the chapel bell dissolves the fleeting fabric +of the vision; and, behold! the white +veil is a poet's imagination, the church +spire is still at a miserable distance, the +vicarage is a Utopian nonentity, and the +fat incumbent, in a state of the ruddiest +health, is the only reality of the dream.</p> + +<p><i>—Blackwood's Magazine.</i></p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>WOMAN</h3> + + +<p>Nothing sets so wide a mark "between +the vulgar and the noble seed" as the +respect and reverential love of womanhood. +A man who is always sneering at woman +is generally a coarse profligate, or a coarse +bigot, no matter which.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>ANGLING.</h3> + +<p>We have often thought that angling +alone offers to man the degree of half-business, +half-idleness, which the fair sex +find in their needle-work or knitting, +which, employing the hands, leaves the +mind at liberty, and occupying the attention +so far as is necessary to remove the +painful sense of a vacuity, yet yields +room for contemplation, whether upon +things heavenly or earthly, cheerful or +melancholy.—<i>Quarterly Rev.</i></p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> +<h2>THE GATHERER.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."</p> +<p class="i14"> SHAKSPEARE.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>LAUGHTER.</h3> + + +<p>"Laugh and grow fat," is an old adage; +and Sterne tells us, that every time a +man laughs, he adds something to his +life. An eccentric philosopher, of the +last century, used to say, that he liked +not only to laugh himself, but to see +laughter, and hear laughter. "Laughter, +Sir, laughter is good for health; it +is a provocative to the appetite, and a +friend to digestion. Dr. Sydenham, Sir, +said the arrival of a merry-andrew in a +town was more beneficial to the health of +the inhabitants than twenty asses loaded +with medicine." Mr. Pott used to say +that he never saw the "Tailor riding to +Brentford," without feeling better for a +week afterwards.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>LEGAL PEARL-DIVERS.</h3> + + +<p>Every barrister can "shake his head," +and too often, like Sheridan's Lord Burleigh, +it is the only proof he vouchsafes +of his wisdom. Curran used to call +these fellows "legal pearl-divers."—"You +may observe them," he would say, +"their heads barely under water—their +eyes shut, and an index floating behind +them, displaying the precise degree of +their purity and their depth."</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>GRAMMATICAL LEARNING.</h3> + + +<p>An author left a comedy with Foote for +perusal; and on the next visit asked for +his judgment on it, with rather an ignorant +degree of assurance. "If you looked +a little more to the grammar of it, I +think," said Foote, "it would be better."—"To +the grammar of it, Sir! What! +would you send me to school again?"—"And +pray, Sir," replied Foote, very +gravely, "would that do you any +harm?"</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>SWEARING BY PROXY.</h3> + + +<p>Cardinal Dubois used frequently, in +searching after any thing he wanted, to +swear excessively. One of his clerks +told him, "Your eminence had better +hire a man to swear for you, and then +you will gain so much time."</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE MUNIFICENT SAINT.</h3> + + +<p>A devout lady offered up a prayer to +St. Ignatius for the conversion of her +husband; a few days after, the man +died; "What a good saint is our Ignatius!" +exclaimed the consolable widow, +"he bestows on us more benefits than we +ask for!"</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>PRODIGALITY.</h3> + + +<p>A petty journalist was boasting in company, +that he was a dispenser of fame to +those on whom he wrote. "Yes, Sir," +replied an individual present, "you dispense +it so liberally, that you leave none +for yourself."</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>PHYSIOGNOMISTS.</h3> + + +<p>Pickpockets and beggars are the best +practical physiognomists, without having +read a line of Lavater, who, it is notorious, +mistook a highwayman for a philosopher, +and a philosopher for a highwayman.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>EPITAPH</h3> + + +<p>In the Broadway churchyard, Westminster, +on three children, who all died very +early, the eldest being little more than +three years of age:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Three children, not dead, but sleeping lies,</p> +<p>With Christ they live above the skies,</p> +<p>Wash'd in his blood, and for his dress,</p> +<p>Christ's glorious robe of righteousness,</p> +<p>In which they shine more bright by far</p> +<p>Than sun, or moon, or morning star;</p> +<p>In Paradise they wing their way,</p> +<p>Blooming in one eternal day.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>G.W.N.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p>PURCHASERS of the MIRROR, who may wish +to complete their sets are informed, that every +volume is complete in itself, and may be purchased +separately. The whole of the numbers +are now in print, and can be procured by giving +an order to any Bookseller or Newsvender.</p> + +<p>Complete sets Vol. I. to XII. in boards, price +£3. 5s. half bound, £4. 2s. 6d.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3><i>LIMBIRD'S EDITIONS.</i></h3> + +<p>CHEAP and POPULAR WORKS published at +the MIRROR OFFICE in the Strand, near Somerset +House.</p> + +<p>The ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS, +Embellished with nearly 150 Engravings. +Price 6s. 6d. boards.</p> + +<p>The TALES of the GENII. Price 2s.</p> + +<p>The MICROCOSM. By the Right Hon. G. +CANNING. &c. Price 2s.</p> + +<p>PLUTARCH'S LIVES, with Fifty Portraits, +2 vols. price 13s. boards.</p> + +<p>COWPER'S POEMS, with 12 Engravings, +price 3s. 6d. boards.</p> + +<p>COOK'S VOYAGES, 2 vols. price 8s. boards.</p> + +<p>The CABINET of CURIOSITIES: or, WONDERS +of the WORLD DISPLAYED. Price 5s. boards.</p> + +<p>BEAUTIES of SCOTT. 2 vols. price 7s. +boards.</p> + +<p>The ARCANA of SCIENCE for 1828. 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Price 1s. 8d.</p> + + +<hr /> + + + + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag1"> (return)</a> +Gough's Camden.</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag2"> (return)</a> +The Bairam of the Turks answers to our Easter, +as their Ramadan does to our Lent.</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote3" name="footnote3"></a><b>Footnote 3</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag3"> (return)</a> +The Drunkard; the Spanish origin of this +title is endeavoured to be recognised in its +title.</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote4" name="footnote4"></a><b>Footnote 4</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag4"> (return)</a> +Daughter of Dr. Grey, author of Memoria +Technica, &c. rector of Hinton, Northamptonshire, +and prebendary of St. Paul's. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote5" name="footnote5"></a><b>Footnote 5</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag5"> (return)</a> + At Shaffhausen. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote6" name="footnote6"></a><b>Footnote 6</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag6"> (return)</a> +"Portraits of English Authors on Gardening." +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><i>Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD 143, +Strand, (near Somerset House,) London; sold +by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, +Leipsic; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers.</i></p> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<pre> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10838 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |