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diff --git a/10845-h/10845-h.htm b/10845-h/10845-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bfdb017 --- /dev/null +++ b/10845-h/10845-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1631 @@ +<!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. 12, Issue 332, September 20, 1828, by Various</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + 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;} + + .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;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10845 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and +Instruction, Vol. 12, Issue 332, September 20, 1828, by Various</h1> + + +</pre> +<br /> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page177" name="page177"></a>[pg +177]</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. 12. No. 332.</b></td> +<td align="center"><b>SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1828.</b></td> +<td align="right"><b>[PRICE 2<i>d</i>.</b></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>ANNE HATHAWAY'S COTTAGE.</h2> +<div class="figure" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/332-177.png"><img width="100%" src="images/332-177.png" +alt="Anne Hathaway's Cottage." /></a></div> +<p>This is another of Mr. Rider's beautiful "Views to Illustrate +the Life of SHAKSPEARE,"<a id="footnotetag1" name= +"footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a>—it +being the exterior of the cottage in which the poet's wife (whose +maiden name was <i>Hathaway</i>) is said to have resided with her +parents, in the village of Shottery, about a mile from +Stratford-upon-Avon.</p> +<p>Neither the exterior nor interior of this humble abode, says Mr. +Rider, appears to have been subjected to any renovating process; +and as there exists no reasonable ground for distrusting the fact +of its having been the abode of <i>Anne Hathaway</i>, previous to +her marriage with Shakspeare, it must ever be regarded as one of +the most interesting relics connected with his history. The +occupier of the cottage in July, 1827, was an old woman, the widow +of John Hathaway Taylor, whose mother was a Hathaway, and the last +of the family of that name.</p> +<div class="figure" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/332-177-1.png"><img src="images/332-177-1.png" alt= +"Shakspeare's Courting-Chair" /></a></div> +<p>The widow Taylor showed Mr. Rider the old carved bedstead, +mentioned by "Ireland," and assured him she perfectly recollected +his purchasing of her mother-in-law the piece of furniture which +had always been known by the designation of <i>Shakspeare's +Courting-Chair</i>. From the wood-cut of this chair, given by +Ireland in his "Views on the Avon," Mr. Rider has been enabled to +introduce it in his representation of the interior of the +cottage.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page178" name="page178"></a>[pg +178]</span> +<p>We have accordingly detached it for a vignette, and as the +throne where</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">The lover,</p> +<p class="i2">Sighing like furnace, with woeful ballad</p> +<p class="i2">Made to his mistress' eye-brow—</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>it will probably be acceptable to the most enthusiastic of +Shakspeare's admirers; not doubting that scores of our lady-friends +will provide themselves with a chair of the same construction, if +they would insure the fervour and sincerity of the poet's love, or +by association become more susceptible of his inspirations of the +master-passion of humanity.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>THE NOVELIST.</h2> +<h3>ANTONELLI;</h3> +<h4><i>(A Tale, from the German of Goethe.)</i></h4> +<p>When I was in Italy, Antonelli, an opera-singer, was the +favourite of the Neapolitan public. Her youth, beauty, and talents +insured her applause on the stage; nor was she deficient in any +quality that could render her agreeable to a small circle of +friends. She was not indifferent either to love or praise; but her +discretion was such as to enable her to enjoy both with becoming +dignity. Every young man of rank or fortune in Naples, was eager to +be numbered among her suitors; few however, met with a favourable +reception; and though she was, in the choice of her lovers, +directed chiefly by her eyes and her heart, she displayed on all +occasions a firmness, and stability of character, that never failed +to engage even such as were indifferent to her favours. I had +frequent opportunities of seeing her, being on terms of the closest +intimacy with one of her favoured admirers.</p> +<p>Several years were now elapsed, and she had become acquainted +with a number of gentlemen, many of whom had rendered themselves +disgusting by the extreme levity and fickleness of their manners. +She had repeatedly observed young gentlemen, whose professions of +constancy and attachment would persuade their mistress of the +impossibility of their ever deserting her, withhold their +protection in those very cases where it was most needed; or, what +is still worse, incited by the temptation of ridding themselves of +a troublesome connexion, she had known them give advice which has +entailed misery and ruin.</p> +<p>Her acquaintance hitherto had been of such a nature as to leave +her mind inactive. She now began to feel a desire, to which she had +before been a stranger. She wished to possess a friend, to whom she +might communicate her most secret thoughts, and happily, just at +that time, she found one among those who surrounded her, possessed +of every requisite quality, and who seemed, in every respect, +worthy of her confidence.</p> +<p>This gentleman was by birth a Genoese, and resided at Naples, +for the purpose of transacting some commercial business of great +importance, for the house with which he was connected. In +possession of good parts, he had, in addition received a very +finished education. His knowledge was extensive; and no less care +had been bestowed on his body, than on his mind. He was inspired +with the commercial spirit natural to his countrymen, and +considered mercantile affairs on a grand scale. His situation was, +however, not the most enviable; his house had unfortunately been +drawn into hazardous speculations, which were afterwards attended +with expensive law-suits. The state of his affairs grew daily more +intricate, and the uneasiness thereby produced gave him an air of +seriousness, which in the present case was not to his disadvantage; +for it encouraged our young heroine to seek his friendship, rightly +judging, that he himself stood in need of a friend.</p> +<p>Hitherto, he had seen her only occasionally, and at places of +public resort; she now, on his first request, granted him access to +her house; she even invited him very pressingly, and he was not +remiss in obeying the invitation.</p> +<p>She lost no time in making him acquainted with her wishes, and +the confidence she reposed in him. He was surprised, and rejoiced +at the proposal. She was urgent in the request that he might always +remain her friend, and never shade that sacred name with the +ambiguous claims of a lover. She made him acquainted with some +difficulties which then perplexed her, and on which his experience +would enable him to give the best advice, and propose the most +speedy means for her relief. In return for this confidence, he did +not hesitate to disclose to her his own situation; and her +endeavours to soothe and console him were, in reality, not without +a beneficial consequence, as they served to put him in that state +of mind, so necessary for acting with deliberation and effect. Thus +a friendship was in a short time cemented, founded on the most +exalted esteem, and on the consciousness that each was necessary to +the well-being of the other.</p> +<p>It happens but too often, that we make agreements without +considering whether it is in our power to fulfil their conditions. +He had promised to be only her friend, and not to think of her as a +mistress; and <span class="pagenum"><a id="page179" name= +"page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> yet he could not deny that he was +mortified and disgusted with the sight of any other visiter. His +ill-humour was particularly excited by hearing her, in a jesting +manner, enumerate the good or bad qualities of some favourite, and +after having shown much good sense in pointing out his blemishes, +neglect her friend, and prefer his company that very evening.</p> +<p>It happened soon after that the heart of the fair was +disengaged. Her friend was rejoiced at the discovery, and +represented to her, that he was entitled to her affection before +all others. She gave ear to his petition, when she found resistance +was vain. "I fear," said she, "that I am parting with the most +valuable possession on earth—a friend, and that I shall get +nothing in return but a lover." Her suspicions were well founded: +he had not enjoyed his double capacity long, when he showed a +degree of peevishness, of which he had before thought himself +incapable; as a friend he demanded her esteem; as a lover he +claimed her undivided affection; and as a man of sense and +education, he expected rational and pleasing conversation. These +complicated claims, however, ill accorded with the sprightly +disposition of Antonelli; she could consent to no sacrifices, and +was unwilling to grant exclusive rights. She therefore endeavoured +in a delicate manner to shorten his visits, to see him less +frequently, and intimated that she would upon no consideration +whatever give up her freedom.</p> +<p>As soon as he remarked this new treatment, his misery was beyond +endurance, and unfortunately, this was not the only mischance that +befel him; his mercantile affairs assumed a very doubtful +appearance; besides this, a view of his past life called forth many +mortifying reflections; he had from his earliest youth looked upon +his fortune as inexhaustible, his business often lay neglected, +while engaged in long and expensive travels, endeavouring to make a +figure in the fashionable world, far above his birth and fortune. +The lawsuits, which were now his only hope, proceeded slowly, and +were connected with a vast expense. These required his presence in +Palermo several times; and while absent on his last journey, +Antonelli made arrangements calculated, by degrees, to banish him +entirely from her house. On his return, he found she had taken +another house at a considerable distance from his own; the Marquess +de S., who, at that time, had great influence on plays and public +diversions, visited her daily, and to all appearance, with great +familiarity. This mortified him severely, and a serious illness was +the consequence. When the news of his sickness reached his friend, +she hastened to him, was anxious to see him comfortable, and +discovering that he was in great pecuniary difficulties, on going +away she left him a sum of money sufficient to relieve his +wants.</p> +<p>Her friend had once presumed to encroach on her freedom; this +attempt was with her an unpardonable offence, and the discovery of +his having acted so indiscreetly in his own affairs, had not given +her the most favourable opinion of his understanding and his +character; notwithstanding the decrease of her affection, her +assiduity for him had redoubled. He did not, however, remark the +great change which had really taken place; her anxiety for his +recovery, her watching for hours at his bedside, appeared to him +rather proofs of friendship and love, than the effects of +compassion, and he hoped, on his recovery, to be re-instated in all +his former rights.</p> +<p>But how greatly was he mistaken! In proportion as his health and +strength returned, all tenderness and affection for him vanished; +nay, her aversion for him now was equal to the pleasure with which +she formerly regarded him. He had also, in consequence of these +multiplied reverses, contracted a habit of ill-humour, of which he +was himself not aware, and which greatly contributed to alienate +Antonelli. His own bad management in business he attributed to +others; so that, in his opinion, he was perfectly justified. He +looked upon himself as an unfortunate man, persecuted by the world, +and hoped for an equivalent to all his sufferings and misfortunes +in the undivided affection of his mistress.</p> +<p>This concession he insisted on, the first day he was able to +leave his chamber, and visit her. He demanded nothing less than +that she should resign herself up to him entirely, dismiss her +other friends and acquaintances, leave the stage, and live solely +with him, and for him. She showed him the impossibility of granting +his demands, at first mildly, but was at last obliged to confess +the melancholy truth, that their former relation existed no more. +He left her, and never saw her again.</p> +<p>He lived some years longer, seeing but few acquaintances, and +chiefly in the company of a pious old lady, with whom he occupied +the same dwelling, and who lived on the rent of an adjoining house, +her only income. During this interval, he gained one of his +law-suits, and soon after the other; but his health was destroyed, +and his future prospects blasted. A slight cause brought on a +relapse of his former illness; the physician acquainted him with +his approaching end. He was <span class="pagenum"><a id="page180" +name="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span> resigned to his fate, and his +only remaining wish was, once more to see his lovely friend. He +sent the servant to her, who, in more happy days, had often been +the bearer of tender messages. He prayed her to grant his request: +she refused. He sent a second time, entreating most ardently she +might not be deaf to his prayers, with no better success. She +persisted in her first answer. The night was already far advanced, +when he sent a third time; she showed great agitation, and confided +to me the cause of her embarrassment, (for I had just happened to +be at supper, at her house, with the Marquess, and some other +friends.) I advised her—I entreated her, to show her friend +this last act of kindness. She seemed undecided, and in great +emotion; but after a few moments she became more collected. She +sent away the servant with a refusal, and he returned no more.</p> +<p>When supper was over, we sat together in familiar conversation, +while cheerfulness and good humour reigned among us. It was near +midnight, when suddenly a hollow, doleful sound was heard, like the +groaning of a human being; gradually it grew weaker, and at last +died away entirely. A momentary trembling seized us all; we stared +at each other, and then around us, unable to explain the +mystery.</p> +<p>The Marquess ran to the window, while the rest of us were +endeavouring to restore the lady, who lay senseless on the floor. +It was some time before she recovered. The jealous Italian would +scarcely give her time to open her eyes, when he began to load her +with reproaches. If you agree on signs with your friends, said the +Marquess, I pray you let them be less open and terrifying. She +replied, with her usual presence of mind, that, having the right to +see any person, at any time, in her house, she could hardly be +supposed to choose such appalling sounds as the forerunners of +happy moments.</p> +<p>And really there was something uncommonly terrifying in the +sound; its slowly lengthened vibrations were still fresh in our +ears. Antonelli was pale, confused, and every moment in danger of +falling into a swoon. We were obliged to remain with her half the +night. Nothing more was heard. On the following evening the same +company was assembled; and although the cheerfulness of the +preceding day was wanting, we were not dejected. Precisely at the +same hour we heard the same hollow groan as the night before.</p> +<p>We had in the meantime formed many conjectures on the origin of +this strange sound, which were as contradictory as they were +extravagant. It is unnecessary to relate every particular: in +short, whenever Antonelli supped at home, the alarming noise was +heard at the same hour, sometimes stronger, at others weaker. This +occurrence was spoken of all over Naples. Every inmate of the +house, every friend and acquaintance, took the most lively +interest; even the police was summoned to attend. Spies were placed +at proper distances around the house. To such as stood in the +street the sound seemed to arise in the open air, while those in +the room heard it close by them. As often as she supped out all was +silent, but whenever she remained at home, she was sure to be +visited by her uncivil guest; but leaving her house was not always +a means of escaping him. Her talent and character gained her +admittance into the first houses; the elegance of her manners and +her lively conversation, made her everywhere welcome; and, in order +to avoid her unpleasant visiter, she used to pass her evenings in +company out of the house.</p> +<p>A gentleman, whose age and rank made him respectable, +accompanied her home one evening in his coach. On taking leave of +him at her door, the well known voice issued from the steps beneath +them; and the old gentleman, who was perfectly well acquainted with +the story, was helped into his coach more dead than alive.</p> +<p>She was one evening accompanied by a young singer, in her coach, +on a visit to a friend's. He had heard of this mysterious affair, +and being of a lively disposition, expressed some doubts on the +subject. I most ardently wish, continued he, to hear the voice of +your invisible companion; do call him, there are two of us, we +shall not be frightened. Without reflecting, she had the courage to +summon the spirit, and presently, from the floor of the coach arose +the appalling sound; it was repeated three times, in rapid +succession, and died away in a hollow moan. When the door of the +carriage was opened, both were found in a swoon, and it was some +time before they were restored and could inform those present of +their unhappy adventure.</p> +<p>This frequent repetition at length affected her health; and the +spirit, who seemed to have compassion on her, for some weeks gave +no signs of his presence. She even began to cherish a hope that she +was now entirely rid of him—but in this she was mistaken.</p> +<p>When the Carnival was over, she went into the country on a +visit, in the company of a lady, and attended only by one waiting +maid. Night overtook them before they could reach their journey's +end; and suffering an interruption, from the breaking of a chain, +they were compelled to <span class="pagenum"><a id="page181" name= +"page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> stop for the night at an obscure inn +by the road side. Fatigue made Antonelli seek for repose +immediately on their arrival; and she had just lain down, when the +waiting-maid, who was arranging a night-lamp, in a jesting tone, +observed, "We are here, in a manner, at the end of the earth, and +the weather is horrible; will he be able to find us here?" That +moment the voice was heard, louder and more terrible than ever. The +lady imagined the room filled with demons, and, leaping out of bed, +ran down stairs, alarming the whole house. Nobody slept a wink that +night. This was the last time the voice was heard. But this +unwelcome visiter had soon another and more disagreeable method of +notifying his presence.</p> +<p>She had been left in peace some time, when one evening, at the +usual hour, while she was sitting at table with her friends, she +was startled at the discharge of a gun or a well-charged pistol; it +seemed to have passed through the window. All present heard the +report and saw the flash, but on examination the pane was found +uninjured. The company was nevertheless greatly concerned, and it +was generally believed that some one's life had been attempted. +Some present ran to the police, while the rest searched the +adjoining houses;—but in vain; nothing was discovered that +could excite the least suspicion. The next evening sentinels were +stationed at all the neighbouring windows; the house itself, where +Antonelli lived, was closely searched, and spies were placed in the +street.</p> +<p>But all this precaution availed nothing. Three months in +succession, at the same moment, the report was heard; the charge +entered at the same pane of glass without making the least +alteration in its appearance; and what is remarkable, it invariably +took place precisely one hour before midnight; although the +Neapolitans have the Italian way of keeping time according to which +midnight forms no remarkable division. At length the shooting grew +as familiar as the voice had formerly been, and this innocent +malice of the spirit was forgiven him. The report often took place +without disturbing the company, or even interrupting their +conversation.</p> +<p>One evening, after a very sultry day, Antonelli, without +thinking of the approaching hour, opened the window, and stepped +with the Marquess on the balcony. But a few moments had elapsed, +when the invisible gun was discharged, and both were thrown back +into the room with a violent shock. On recovering, the Marquess +felt the pain of a smart blow on his right check; and the singer, +on her left. But no other injury being received, this event gave +rise to a number of merry observations. This was the last time she +was alarmed in her house, and she had hopes of being at last +entirely rid of her unrelenting persecutor, when one evening, +riding out with a friend, she was once more greatly terrified. They +drove through the Chiaja, where the once-favoured Genoese had +resided. The moon shone bright. The lady with her demanded, "Is not +that the house where Mr. —— died?" "It is one of those +two, if I am not mistaken," replied Antonelli. That instant the +report burst upon their ears louder than ever; the flash issuing +from one of the houses, seemed to pass through the carriage. The +coachman supposing they were attacked by robbers, drove off in +great haste. On arriving at the place of destination, the two +ladies were taken out in a state of insensibility.</p> +<p>This was, however, the last scene of terror. The invisible +tormentor now changed his manner, and used more gentle means. One +evening, soon after, a loud clapping of hands was heard under her +window. Antonelli, as a favourite actress and singer, was no +stranger to these sounds; they carried in them nothing terrifying, +and they might be ascribed to one of her admirers. She paid little +attention to it; her friends, however, were more vigilant, they +sent out spies as formerly. The clapping was heard, but no one was +to be seen; and it was hoped that these mysterious doings would +soon entirely cease.</p> +<p>After some evenings the clapping was no longer heard, and more +agreeable sounds succeeded. They were not properly melodious, but +unspeakably delightful and agreeable; they seemed to issue from the +corner of an opposite street, approach the window, and die gently +away. It seemed as if some aerial spirit intended them as a prelude +to some piece of music that he was about to perform. These tones +soon became weaker, and at last were heard no more.</p> +<p>I had the curiosity, soon after the first disturbance, to go to +the house of the deceased, under the pretext of visiting the old +lady who had so faithfully attended him in his last illness. She +told me her friend had an unbounded affection for Antonelli; that +he had, for some weeks previous to his death, talked only of her, +and sometimes represented her as an angel, and then again as a +devil. When his illness became serious, his only wish was to see +her before his dissolution, probably in hopes of receiving from her +some kind expression, or prevailing on her to give him <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page182" name="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> some +consoling proof of her love and attachment. Her obstinate refusal +caused him the greatest torments, and her last answer evidently +hastened his end; for, added she, he made one violent effort, and +raising his head, he cried out in despair, <i>"No, it shall avail +her nothing; she avoids me, but I'll torment her, though the grave +divide us!"</i> And indeed the event proved that a man may perform +his promise in spite of death itself.</p> +<p><i>Weekly Review.</i></p> +<hr /> +<h2>UGGOLINO.</h2> +<h3>MODERNIZED FROM THE "MONK'S TALE" IN CHAUCER.</h3> +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Of Uggolino, Pisa's hapless Count,</p> +<p class="i2">How shall my Muse the piteous tale relate!</p> +<p class="i2">Near to that city, on a gentle mount,</p> +<p class="i2">There stands a tow'r—within its donjon +grate</p> +<p class="i2">They lock'd him up, and, dreadful to recount,</p> +<p class="i2">With him three tender babes to share his fate!</p> +<p class="i2">But five years old the eldest of the three—</p> +<p class="i2">Oh! who could rob such babes of liberty!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Doom'd was the Count within that tow'r to die,</p> +<p class="i2">Him Pisa's vengeful bishop did oppose;</p> +<p class="i2">With covert speech and false aspersions sly</p> +<p class="i2">He stirr'd the people, till they madly rose,</p> +<p class="i2">And shut him in this prison strong and high;</p> +<p class="i2">His former slaves are now his fiercest foes.</p> +<p class="i2">Coarse was their food, and scantily supplied,</p> +<p class="i2">A prelude to the death these captives died.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">And on a luckless day it thus befell—</p> +<p class="i2">About their surly jailer's wonted hour</p> +<p class="i2">To bring them food, he enter'd not their cell,</p> +<p class="i2">But bolted fast their prison's outer door.</p> +<p class="i2">This on the County's heart rang like a +knell—</p> +<p class="i2">Hope was excluded from this grizzly tow'r.</p> +<p class="i2">Speechless he sat, despair forbade to rave—</p> +<p class="i2">This hold was now their dungeon and their grave.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">His youngest babe had not seen summers three;</p> +<p class="i2">"Father," he cried, "why does the man delay</p> +<p class="i2">To bring out food? how naughty he must be;</p> +<p class="i2">I have not eat a morsel all this day.</p> +<p class="i2">Dear father, have you got some bread for me?</p> +<p class="i2">Oh, if you have, do give it me, I pray;</p> +<p class="i2">I am so hungry that I cannot sleep—</p> +<p class="i2">I'll kiss you, father—do not, do not weep."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">And day by day this pining innocent</p> +<p class="i2">Thus to his father piteously did cry,</p> +<p class="i2">Till hunger had perform'd the stern intent</p> +<p class="i2">Of their fierce foes. "Oh, father, I shall die!</p> +<p class="i2">Take me upon your lap—my life is +spent—</p> +<p class="i2">Kiss me—farewell!" Then with a gentle sigh,</p> +<p class="i2">Its spotless spirit left the suff'ring clay,</p> +<p class="i2">And wing'd its fright to everlasting day.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">(He who has mark'd that wild, distracting mien,</p> +<p class="i2">Which for this Count immortal Reynold's drew,</p> +<p class="i2">When bitter woe, despair, and famine keen</p> +<p class="i2">Unite in that sad face to shock the view,</p> +<p class="i2">Will wish, while gazing on th' appalling scene,</p> +<p class="i2">For pity's sake the story is not true.</p> +<p class="i2">What hearts but fiends, what less than hellish +hate,</p> +<p class="i2">Could e'er consign that group to such a fate?)</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">And when he saw his darling child was dead,</p> +<p class="i2">From statue-like despair the Count did start;</p> +<p class="i2">He tore his matted locks from off his head,</p> +<p class="i2">And bit his arms, for grief so wrung his heart.</p> +<p class="i2">His two surviving babes drew near and said,</p> +<p class="i2">(Thinking 'twas hunger's thorn which caus'd his +smart,)</p> +<p class="i2">"Dear sire, you gave us life, to you we give</p> +<p class="i2">Our little bodies—feed on them and live!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Like two bruis'd lilies, soon they pin'd away,</p> +<p class="i2">And breath'd their last upon their father's knee;</p> +<p class="i2">Despair and Famine bow'd him to their sway;</p> +<p class="i2">He died—here ends this Count's dark +tragedy.</p> +<p class="i2">Whoso would read this tale more fully may</p> +<p class="i2">Consult the mighty bard of Italy;</p> +<p class="i2">Dante's high strain will all the sequel tell,</p> +<p class="i2">So courteous, friendly readers, fare ye well.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h4>P. HENDON.</h4> +<hr /> +<h3>A LAPLANDER'S FAREWELL TO THE SETTING SUN.</h3> +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Adieu thou beauteous orb, adieu,</p> +<p class="i2">Thy fading light scarce meets my view,</p> +<p class="i2">Thy golden tints reflected still</p> +<p class="i2">Beam mildly on my native hill:</p> +<p class="i2">Thou goest in other lands to shine,</p> +<p class="i2">Hail'd and expected by a numerous line,</p> +<p class="i2">Whilst many days and many months must pass</p> +<p class="i2">Ere thou shall'st bless us with one closing +glance.</p> +<p class="i2">My cave must now become my lowly home,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor can I longer from its precincts roam,</p> +<p class="i2">Till the fixed time that brings thee back again</p> +<p class="i2">With added splendour to resume thy reign.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h4>IOTA.</h4> +<hr /> +<h3>ANCIENT VALUE OF BOOKS.</h3> +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<p>We have it from good authority, that about A.D. 1215, the +Countess of Anjou paid two hundred sheep, five quarters of wheat, +and the same quantity of rye, for a volume of Sermons—so +scarce and dear were books at that time; and although the countess +might in this case have possibly been imposed upon, we have it, on +Mr. Gibbon's authority, that the value of manuscript copies of the +Bible, for the use of the monks and clergy, commonly was from four +to five hundred crowns at Paris, which, according to the relative +value of money at that time and now in our days, could not, at the +most moderate calculation, be less than as many pounds sterling in +the present day.</p> +<p>H. W. P.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>MARINE GLOW WORMS.</h3> +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<p>These extraordinary little insects are more particularly noticed +in Italy, during the period of summer, than in any other part of +the world. When they make their appearance, they glitter like stars +reflected by the sea, so beautiful and luminous are their minute +bodies. Many <span class="pagenum"><a id="page183" name= +"page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> contemplative lovers of the phenomena +of nature are seen, soon after sun-set, along the sea coast, +admiring the singular lustre of the water when covered with these +particles of life, which it may be observed, are more numerous +where the <i>alga marina</i>, or sea-weed abounds.</p> +<p>The marine glow-worm is composed of eleven articulations, or +rings; upon these rings, and near the belly of the insect, are +placed fins, which appear to be the chief instruments of its +motion. It has two small horns issuing from the fore part of the +head, and its tail is cleft in two. To the naked eye of man, they +seem even smaller than the finest hairs; and their substance is +delicate beyond description. They first begin to make their +appearance upon the sea-weed about the middle of April, and very +soon after multiply exceedingly over the whole surface of the +water.</p> +<p>I think it is more than probable, that the heat of the sun +causes the marine glow-worm to lay its eggs; at all events it is +certain, that terrestrial insects of this species shine only in the +heat of summer, and that their peculiar resplendency is produced +during the period of their copulation.</p> +<p>G. W. N.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>EPITAPHS.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i></h4> +<p>The origin of epitaphs, and the precise period when they were +first introduced, is involved in obscurity; but that they were in +use several centuries prior to the Christian era is indisputable. +The invention of them, however, has been attributed to the scholars +of Linus, who, according to Diogenes, was the son of Mercury and +Urania; he was born at Thebes, and instructed Hercules in the art +of music; who, in a fit of anger at the ridicule of Linus, on his +awkwardness in holding the lyre, struck him on the head with his +instrument, and killed him. The scholars of Linus lamented the +death of their master, in a mournful kind of poem, called from him +<i>Aelinum</i>. These poems were afterwards designated +<i>Epitaphia</i>, from the two words [Greek: epi], <i>upon</i>, and +[Greek: taphios], <i>sepulchre</i>, being engraved on tombs, in +honour or memory of the deceased, and generally containing some +eloge of his virtues or good qualities.</p> +<p>Among the Lacedaemonians, epitaphs were only allowed to men who +died bravely in battle; and to women, who were remarkable for their +chastity. The Romans often erected monuments to illustrious persons +whilst living, which were preserved with great veneration after +their decease. In this country, according to Sir Henry Chauncy, +"Any person may erect a tomb, sepulchre, or monument for the +deceased in any church, chancel, chapel, or churchyard, so that it +is not to the hindrance of the celebration of divine service; that +the defacing of them is punishable at common law, the party that +built it being entitled to the action during his life, and the heir +of the deceased after his death."</p> +<p>Boxhornius has made a well chosen collection of Latin epitaphs, +and F. Labbe has also made a similar one in the French language, +entitled, "<i>Tresor des Epitaphes</i>." In our own language the +collection of Toldewy is the best; there are also several to be +found among the writings of Camden and Weaver, and in most of the +county histories.</p> +<p>In epitaphs, the deceased person is sometimes introduced by way +of prosopopaeia, speaking to the living, of which the following is +an instance, wherein the defunct wife thus addresses her surviving +husband:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Immatura peri; sed tu, felicior, annos</p> +<p class="i2">Vive tuos, conjux optime, vive meos."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The following epitaphs, out of several others, are worth +preserving. That of Alexander:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Sufficit huic tumulus, cui non sufficeret +orbis."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>That of Tasso:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Les os du Tasse."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Similar to which is that of Dryden:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Dryden."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The following is that of General Foy, in Pere la +Chaise:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Honneur au GENERAL FOY.</p> +<p class="i4">Il se repose de ses travaux,</p> +<p class="i4">Et ses oeuvres le suivent.</p> +<p class="i2">Hier quand de ses jours la source fut tarie,</p> +<p class="i2">La France, en le voyant sur sa couche entendu,</p> +<p class="i2">Implorait un accent de cette voix cherie.</p> +<p class="i2">Helas! au cri plaintif jeté par la nature,</p> +<p class="i2">C'est la premiere fois qu'il ne pas repondu"</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The following is said to have been written by "rare Ben Jonson," +and has been much admired:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Underneath this stone doth lie</p> +<p class="i2">As much virtue as could die;</p> +<p class="i2">Which, when alive, did vigour give</p> +<p class="i2">To as much beauty as could live."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +</div> +To these could be added several others, but at present we shall +content ourselves with quoting the two following, as specimens of +the satirical or ludicrous:—<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page184" name="page184"></a>[pg +184]</span> +<blockquote> +<p><i>Prior, on himself, ridiculing the folly of those who value +themselves on their pedigree</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="i2">"Nobles and heralds, by your leave, Here lie the +bones of Matthew Prior, The son of Adam and Eve, Let Bourbon or +Nassau go higher."</p> +<p class="i2"> </p> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Here, fast asleep, full six feet deep,</p> +<p class="i4">And seventy summers ripe,</p> +<p class="i2">George Thomas lies in hopes to rise,</p> +<p class="i4">And smoke another pipe."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>B. T. S.</p> +<hr /> +<p>The following inscription, in a churchyard in Germany, long +puzzled alike the learned and the unlearned:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">O quid tua te</p> +<p class="i4">be bis bia abit</p> +<p class="i6">ra ra ra</p> +<p class="i10">es</p> +<p class="i8">et in</p> +<p class="i6">ram ram ram</p> +<p class="i10">i i</p> +<p>Mox eris quod ego nunc.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>By accident the meaning was discovered, and the solution is +equally remarkable for its ingenuity and for the morality it +inculcates:—"O superbe quid superbis? tua superbia te +superabit. Terra es, et in terram ibis. Mox eris quod ego +nunc."—"O vain man! why shouldst thou be proud? thy pride +will be thy ruin. Dust thou art, and to dust shalt thou return. +Soon shalt thou be what I am now."</p> +<p>W. G. C.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>THE COSMOPOLITE.</h2> +<h3>WET WEATHER.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>"John's temper depended very much upon the air; his spirits rose +and fell with the weather-glass."—ARBUTHNOT.</p> +<p>No one can deny that the above is a <i>floating</i> topic; and +we challenge all the philosophy of ancients or moderns to prove it +is not. After the memorable July 15, (St. Swithin,) people talk of +the result with as much certainty as a merchant calculates on +<i>trade winds</i>; and in like manner, hackney-coachmen and +umbrella-makers have their <i>trade rains</i>. Indeed, there are, +as Shakespeare's contented Duke says, "books in the running brooks, +and good in every thing;"<a id="footnotetag2" name= +"footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a> and so far +from neglecting to turn the ill-wind to our account, we are +disposed to venture a few seasonable truisms for the gratification +of our readers, although a wag may say our subject is a dry +one.</p> +<p>In England, the weather is public news. Zimmerman, however, +thinks it is not a safe topic of discourse. "Your company," says +he, "may be <i>hippish</i>." Shenstone, too, says a fine day is the +only enjoyment which one man does not envy another. All this is +whimsical enough; but doubtless we are more operated on by <i>the +weather</i> than by any thing else. Perhaps this is because we are +islanders; for talk to an "intellectual" man about the climate, and +out comes something about our "insular situation, aqueous vapours, +condensation," &c. Then take up a newspaper on any day of a wet +summer, and you see a long string of paragraphs, with erudite +authorities, about "the weather," average annual depth of rain, +&c.; and a score of lies about tremendous rains, whose only +authority, like that of most miracles, is in their antiquity or +repetition. In short, <i>water</i> is one of the most popular +subjects in this age of inquiry. What were the first treatises of +the <i>Useful Knowledge</i> Society? <i>Hydrostatics</i> and +<i>Hydraulics</i>. What is the attraction at Sadler's Wells, Bath, +and Cheltenham, but water? the Brighton people, too, not content +with the sea, have even found it necessary to superadd to their +fashionable follies, artificial mineral waters, with whose fount +the grossest duchess may in a few days recover from the repletion +of a whole season; and the minister, after the jading of a session, +soon resume his wonted complacency and good humour.<a id= +"footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"></a><a href= +"#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a> Our aquatic taste is even carried +into all our public amusements; would the festivities in +celebration of the late peace have been complete without the sham +fight on the Serpentine? To insure the run of a melo-drama, the New +River is called in to flow over deal boards, and form a cataract; +and the Vauxhall proprietors, with the aid of a <i>hydropyric</i> +exhibition, contrive to represent a naval battle. This introduction +during the past season was, however, as perfectly <i>gratuitous</i> +as that of the <i>rain</i> was uncalled for. Had they contented +themselves with the latter, the scene would have been more true to +nature.</p> +<p>We carry this taste into our money-getting speculations, those +freaks of the funds that leave many a man with one unfunded coat. +The Thames tunnel is too amphibious an affair to be included in the +number; but the ship canal project, the bridge-building mania, and +the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page185" name="page185"></a>[pg +185]</span> <i>penchant</i> for working mines by steam, evidently +belong to them. The fashion even extends to royalty, since our good +King builds a fishing-temple, and dines on the Virginia Water; and +the Duke of Clarence, as Lord High Admiral, gives a +<i>dejeuné à la fourchette</i> between Waterloo and +Westminster bridges.</p> +<p>Whoever takes the trouble to read a paper in a late <i>Edinburgh +Review</i> on the <i>Nervous System</i>, will doubtless find that +much of our predilection for hanging and drowning is to be +attributed to this "insular situation." Every man and woman of us +is indeed a self <i>pluviometer</i>, or rain-gauge; or, in plain +terms, our nerves are like so many musical strings, affected by +every change of the atmosphere, which, if screwed up too tight, are +apt to snap off, and become useless; or, if you please, we are like +so many barometers, and our animal spirits like their quicksilver; +so "servile" are we to all the "skyey influences." Take, for +example, the same man at three different periods of the year: on a +fine morning in January, his nerves are braced to their best pitch, +and, in his own words, he is fit for any thing; see him panting for +cooling streams in a burning July day, when though an Englishman, +he is "too hot to eat;" see him on a wet, muggy ninth of November, +when the finery of the city coach and the new liveries appear +tarnished, and common councilmen tramp through the mud and rain in +their robes of little authority—even with the glorious +prospect of the Guildhall tables, the glitter of gas and civic +beauty, and the six pounds of turtle, and iron knives and forks +before him—still he is a miserable creature, he drinks to +desperation, and is carried home at least three hours sooner than +he would be on a fine frosty night. Then, instead of fifteen pounds +to the square inch, atmospheric pressure is increased to +five-and-forty, not calculating the <i>simoom</i> of the following +morning, when he is as dry as the desert of Sahara, and eyes the +pumps and soda- water fountains with as much <i>gout</i> as the +Israelites did the water from Mount Horeb.</p> +<p>Man, however, is the most helpless of all creatures in water, +and with the exception of a few proscribed pickpockets and +swindlers, he is almost as helpless on land. This infirmity, or +difficulty of keeping above water, accounts for the crammed state +of our prisons, fond as we are of the element. On the great rivers +of China, where thousands of people find it more convenient to live +in covered boats upon the water, than in houses on shore, the +younger and male children have a <i>hollow ball</i> of some light +material attached constantly to their necks, so that in their +frequent falls overboard, they are not in danger. Had we not read +this in a grave, philosophical work, we should have thought it a +joke upon poor humanity, or at best a piece of poetical justice, +and that the hollow ball, &c. represented the head—fools +being oftener inheritors of good fortune than their wiser +companions. As the great secret in swimming is to keep the chest as +full of air as possible, perhaps the great art of living is to keep +the head a <i>vacuum</i>, a state "adapted to the meanest +capacity." But had kind Nature supplied us with an air-bladder at +the neck, the heaviest of us might have floated to eternity, +Leander's swimming across the Hellespont no wonder at all, and the +drags of the Humane Society be converted into halters for the +suspension and recovery of old offenders and small debts.</p> +<p><i>A wet day in London</i> is what every gentleman who does not +read, or does not recollect, Shakspeare, calls <i>a bore</i>,<a id= +"footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4"></a><a href= +"#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a> and every lady decides to be a +<i>nuisance</i>. Abroad, everything is discomfiture; at home all is +fidget and uneasiness. What is called a smart shower, sweeps off a +whole stand of hackney-coaches in a few seconds, and leaves a few +leathern conveniences called cabriolets, so that your only +alternative is that of being soaked to the skin, or pitched out, +taken up, bled, and carried home in "a state of insensibility." The +Spanish proverb, "it never rains but it pours" soon comes to pass, +and every street is momentarily washed as clean as the most +diligent housemaid could desire. Every little shelter is crowded +with solitary, houseless-looking people, who seem employed in +taking descriptions of each other for the <i>Hue and Cry</i>, or +police gazette. On the pavement may probably be seen some wight who +with more than political obstinacy, resolves to "weather the +storm," with slouched hat, which acts upon the principle of +capillary attraction, drenched coat, and boots in which the feet +work like pistons in tannin: now</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">The reeling clouds,</p> +<p class="i2">Stagger with dizzy poise, as doubting yet,</p> +<p class="i2">Which master to obey.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Company, in such cases, usually increases the misery. Your wife, +with a new dress, soon loses her temper and its beauty; the +children splash you and their little frilled continuations; and +ill-humour is the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page186" name= +"page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> order of the day; for on such +occasions you cannot slip into a tavern, and follow Dean Swift's +example:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">On rainy days alone I dine,</p> +<p class="i2">Upon a chick, and pint of wine:</p> +<p class="i2">On rainy days I dine alone,</p> +<p class="i2">And pick my chicken to the bone.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Go you to the theatre in what is called a wet season, and +perhaps after sitting through a dull five-act tragedy and two +farces, your first solicitude is about the weather, and as if to +increase the vexation, you cannot see the sky for a heavy portico +or blind; then the ominous cry of "carriage, your +honour"—"what terrible event does this portend"—and you +have to pick your way, with your wife like Cinderella after the +ball, through an avenue of link-boys and cadmen,<a id= +"footnotetag5" name="footnotetag5"></a><a href= +"#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a> and hear your name and address bawled +out to all the thieves that happen to be present. Or, perchance, +the coachman, whose inside porosity is well indicated by his bundle +of coats, as Dr. Kitchiner says, is labouring under "the +unwholesome effervescence of the hot and rebellious liquors which +have been taken to revive the flagging spirits," and like a sponge, +absorbs liquids, owing to the pressure of the surrounding air.</p> +<p>That we are attached to wet weather, a single comparison with +our neighbours will abundantly prove. A Frenchman seldom stirs +abroad without his <i>parapluie</i>; notwithstanding he is, +compared with an Englishman, an <i>al fresco</i> animal, eating, +drinking, dancing, reading, and seeing plays—all out of +doors. A shower is more effectual in clearing the streets of Paris +than those of London. People flock into <i>cafés</i>, the +arcades of the Palais Royal, and splendid covered passages; and as +soon as the rain ceases, scores of planks are thrown across the +gutters in the <i>centre</i> of the streets, which species of +<i>pontooning</i> is rewarded by the sous and centimes of the +passengers. In Switzerland too, where the annual fall of rain is 40 +inches, the streets are always washed clean, an effect which is +admirably represented in the view of Unterseen, now exhibiting at +the <i>Diorama</i>. But in Peru, the Andes intercept the clouds, +and the constant heat over sandy deserts prevents clouds from +forming, so that there is no rain. Here it never shines but it +burns.</p> +<p><i>Wet-weather in the country</i> is, however, a still greater +infliction upon the sensitive nerves. There is no club-house, +coffee-room, billiard-room, or theatre, to slip into; and if caught +in a shower you must content yourself with the arcades of Nature, +beneath which you enjoy the unwished-for luxury of a shower bath. +Poor Nature is drenched and drowned; perhaps never better described +than by that inveterate bard of Cockaigne, Captain Morris:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Oh! it settles the stomach when nothing is seen</p> +<p class="i2">But an ass on a common, or goose on a green.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>We were once overtaken by such weather in a pedestrian tour +through the Isle of Wight, when just then about to leave Niton for +a geological excursion to the Needles. Reader, if you remember, the +Sandrock Hotel is one of the most rural establishments in the +island. Think of our being shut up there for six hours, with a thin +duodecimo guide of less than 100 pages, which some mischievous +fellow had made incomplete. How often did we read and re-read every +line, and trace every road in the little map. At length we set off +on our return to Newport. The rain partially ceased, and we were +attracted out of the road to Luttrell's Tower, whence we were +compelled to seek shelter in a miserable public-house in a village +about three miles distant. No spare bed, a wretched smoky fire; and +hard beer, and poor cheese, called Isle of Wight rock, were all the +accommodation our host could provide. His parlour was just painted; +but half-a-dozen sectarian books and an ill-toned flute amused us +for an hour; then we again started, in harder rain than ever, for +Newport. Compelled to halt twice, we saw some deplorable scenes of +cottage misery, almost enough to put us out of conceit of +rusticity, till after crossing a bleak, dreary heath, we espied the +distant light of Newport. Never had we beheld gas light with such +ecstasy, not even on the first lighting of St. James's Park. It was +the eve of the Cowes' regatta, and the town was full; but our +luggage was there, and we were secure. A delicious supper at the +Bugle, and liberal outpourings of Newport ale, at length put us in +good humour with our misfortunes; but on the following morning we +hastened on to Ryde, and thus passed by steam to Portsmouth; having +resolved to defer our geological expedition to that day twelve +months. Perhaps we may again touch on this little journey. We have +done for the present, lest our number should interrupt the +enjoyment of any of the thousand pedestrians who are at this moment +tracking</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">The slow ascending hill, the lofty wood</p> +<p class="i2">That mantles o'er its brow.</p> +</div> +</div> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page187" name="page187"></a>[pg +187]</span> +<p>or coasting the castled shores and romantic cliffs of Vectis, or +the Isle of Wight.</p> +<p>PHILO.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS</h2> +<h3>DUELS IN FRANCE.</h3> +<p>Duels had at one time become so frequent in France as to require +particular enactments for their prevention; as, for example, when +the debt about which any dispute occurred did not amount to +five-pence. The regulation of the mode in which the barbarous +custom might be maintained had engaged the attention of several of +the French kings. In 1205, Philip Augustus restricted the length of +the club, with which single combat was then pursued, to three feet; +and in 1260, Saint Louis abolished the practice of deciding civil +matters by duelling. With the revival of literature and of the +arts, national manners became ameliorated, and duels necessarily +declined. It was still, however, not unusual for the French to +promote or to behold those single combats over which the pages of +romance have thrown a delusive charm, and which were, in early +times, hallowed, in the opinion of the vulgar, by their +accompanying superstitious ceremonies. When any quarrel had been +referred to this mode of decision, the parties met on the appointed +day, and frequently in an open space, overshadowed by the walls of +a convent, which thus lent its sanction to the bloody scene. From +day-break the people were generally employed in erecting scaffolds +and stages, and in placing themselves upon the towers and ramparts +of the adjacent buildings. About noon, the cavalcade was usually +seen to arrive at the door of the lists; then the herald cried, +"Let the appellant appear," and his summons was answered by the +entrance of the challenger, armed cap-a-pie, the escutcheon +suspended from his neck, his visor lowered, and an image of some +national saint in his hand. He was allowed to pass within the +lists, and conducted to his tent. The accused person likewise +appeared, and was led in the same manner to his tent. Then the +herald, in his robe embroidered with fleur-de-lis, advanced to the +centre of the lists, and exclaimed, "Oyez, oyez! lords, knights, +squires, people of all condition, our sovereign lord, by the grace +of God, King of France, forbids you, on pain of death or +confiscation of goods, either to cry out, to speak, to cough, to +spit, or to make signs." During a profound silence, in which +nothing but the murmurs of the unconscious streamlet, or the +chirping of birds might be heard, the combatants quitted their +tents, to take individually the two first oaths. When the third +oath was to be administered, it was customary for them to meet, and +for the marshal to take the right hand of each and to place it on +the cross. Then the functions of the priest began, and the usual +address, endeavouring to conciliate the angry passions of the +champions, and to remind them of their common dependence on the +Supreme Being, may have tended to benefit the bystanders, although +it generally failed of its effect with the combatants.</p> +<p>If the parties persisted, the last oath was administered. The +combatants were obliged to swear solemnly that they had neither +about them nor their horses, stone, nor herb, nor charm, nor +invocation; and that they would fight only with their bodily +strength, their weapons, and their horses. The crucifix and +breviary were then presented to them to kiss, the parties retired +into their tents, the heralds uttering their last admonition to +exertion and courage, and the challengers rushed forth from their +tents, which were immediately dragged from within the lists. Then +the marshal of the field having cried out, "Let them pass, let them +pass," the seconds retired. The combatants instantly mounted their +horses, and the contest commenced.—<i>Foreign Review</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SUPERSTITION RELATING TO BEES.</h3> +<p>On further inquiry, it has been found that the superstitious +practice, formerly mentioned,<a id="footnotetag6" name= +"footnotetag6"></a><a href="#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a> of +informing the bees of a death that takes place in a family, is very +well known, and still prevails among the lower orders in this +country. The disastrous consequence to be apprehended from +noncompliance with this strange custom is not (as before stated) +that the bees will desert the hive, but that they will dwindle and +die. The manner of communicating the intelligence to the little +community, with due form and ceremony, is this: to take the key of +the house, and knock with it three times against the hive, telling +the inmates, at the same time, that their master or mistress, +&c., (as the case may be,) is dead!</p> +<p>Mr. Loudon says, when in Bedfordshire lately, "we were informed +of an old man who sung a psalm last year in front of some hives +which were not doing well, but which he said would thrive in +consequence of that ceremony. Our informant could not state whether +this was a local or individual superstition."—<i>Magazine of +Natural History</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page188" name="page188"></a>[pg +188]</span> +<h2>NOTES OF A READER</h2> +<h3>LAW REFORMS.</h3> +<p>We copy the following eloquent and impassioned paragraph from +the last <i>Edinburgh Review</i>:—</p> +<p>"Thanks unto our ancestors, there is now no <i>Star-chamber</i> +before whom may be summoned either the scholar, whose learning +offends the bishops, by disproving incidentally the divine nature +of tithes, or the counsellor, who gives his client an opinion +against some assumed prerogative. There is no <i>High Commission +Court</i> to throw into a gaol until his dying day, at the +instigation of a Bancroft, the bencher who shall move for the +discharge of an English subject from imprisonment contrary to law. +It is no longer the duty of a privy councillor to seize the +suspected volumes of an antiquarian, or plunder the papers of an +ex-chief justice, whilst lying on his death-bed. <i>Government +licensers of the press</i> are gone, whose infamous perversion of +the writings of other lawyers will cause no future Hale to leave +behind him orders expressly prohibiting the posthumous publication +of his legal MSS., lest the sanctity of his name should be abused, +to the destruction of those laws, of which he had been long the +venerable and living image. An advocate of the present day need not +absolutely withdraw (as Sir Thomas More is reported to have +prudently done for a time) from his profession, because the crown +had taken umbrage at his discharge of a public duty. It is, +however, flattery and self-delusion to imagine that the lust of +power and the weaknesses of human nature have been put down by the +Bill of Rights, and that our forefathers have left nothing to be +done by their descendants. The violence of former times is indeed +no longer practicable; but the spirit which led to these excesses +can never die; it changes its aspect and its instruments with +circumstances, and takes the shape and character of its age. The +risks and the temptations of the profession at the present day are +quite as dangerous to its usefulness, its dignity, and its virtue, +as the shears and branding-irons that frightened every barrister +from signing Prynne's defence, or the writ that sent Maynard to the +Tower. The public has a deep, an incalculable interest in the +independence and fearless honour of its lawyers. In a system so +complicated as ours, every thing must be taken at their word almost +on trust; and proud as we, for the most part, justly are of the +unsuspectedness of our judges, their integrity and manliness of +mind are, of course, involved in that of the body out of which they +must be chosen. There is not a man living whose life, liberty, and +honour may not depend on the resoluteness as well as capacity of +those by whom, when all may be at stake, he must be both advised +and represented in a court of justice."</p> +<p>Our readers will easily recognise the great events in the +history of the law in England, to which the reviewer alludes. +Seldom have we read a more masterly page; it would even form an +excellent rider to Mr. Brougham's recent speech on the same +subject.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SUPPERS.</h3> +<p>It is a mere mistake to condemn suppers. All the inferior +animals stuff immediately previous to sleeping; and why not man, +whose stomach is so much smaller, more delicate, and more exquisite +a piece of machinery? Besides, it is a well-known fact, that a +sound human stomach acts upon a well-drest dish, with nearly the +power of an eight-horse steam-engine; and this being the case, good +heavens! why should one be afraid of a few trifling turkey-legs, a +bottle of Barclay's brown-stout, a Welsh rabbit, brandy and water, +and a few more such fooleries? We appeal to the common sense of our +readers and of the world.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>TEA</h3> +<p>The consumption of tea is increasing every year. In 1823, the +importation was 24,000,000 lb.; in 1826 it was 30,000,000 lb.; and +in the year ending Jan. 5, 1828, 39,746,147 lb.—<i>Oriental +Herald</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>POETS NOT BOTANISTS.</h3> +<p>Addison, who was probably unacquainted with the flower described +by Virgil, represents the Italian aster as a purple bush, with +yellow flowers, instead of telling us that the flower had a yellow +disk and purple rays.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Aureus ipse; sed in foliis, quae plurima circum</p> +<p class="i2">Funduntur, violae sublucet purpura nigrae.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><i>Virgil, Georgic iv</i>.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">The flower Itself is of a golden hue,</p> +<p class="i2">The leaves inclining to a darker blue;</p> +<p class="i2">The leaves shoot thick about the root, and grow</p> +<p class="i2">Into a bush, and shade the turf below.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><i>Addison</i>.</p> +<p>Dryden falls into the same error:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">A flower there is that grows in meadow ground,</p> +<p class="i2">Aurelius called, and easy to be found;</p> +<p class="i2">For from one root the rising stem bestows</p> +<p class="i2">A wood of leaves and violet purple boughs.</p> +<p class="i2">The flower itself is glorious to behold,</p> +<p class="i2">And shines on altars like refulgent gold.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><i>Mag. Nat. History</i></p> +<hr /> +<h3>RIVAL SINGERS.</h3> +<p>In 1726-7, there was a sharp warfare in London between two opera +singers, La <span class="pagenum"><a id="page189" name= +"page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> Faustina and La Cuzzoni, and their +partizans. It went so far that young ladies dressed themselves <i>a +la Faustina</i> and <i>a la Cuzzoni</i>. We need not wonder, +therefore, at the hair <i>à la Sontag</i> in our days, or +gentleman's whiskers <i>à la Jocko</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SHARKS.</h3> +<p>In a recent voyage from Bombay to the Persian Gulf, an Arab +sailor of a crew, who was the stoutest and strongest man in the +ship on leaving Bombay, pined away by disease, and was committed to +the deep by his Arab comrades on board, with greater feeling and +solemnity than is usual among Indian sailors, and with the +accustomed ceremonies and prayers of the Mohamedan religion. The +smell of the dead body attracted several sharks round the ship, one +of which, eight feet in length, was harpooned and hauled on +board.—<i>Oriental Herald</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>JONAH'S "WHALE."</h3> +<p>At a late meeting of the Wernerian Society at Edinburgh, the +Rev. Dr. Scot read a paper on the great fish that swallowed up +Jonah, showing that it could not be a whale, as often supposed, but +was probably a white shark.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>MUSHROOMS.</h3> +<p>The large horse-mushroom, except for catsup, should be very +cautiously eaten. In wet seasons, or if produced on wet ground, it +is very deleterious, if used in any great quantity.—<i>Mag. +Nat. Hist.</i></p> +<hr /> +<h3>USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.</h3> +<p>The sweat of the brow is not favourable to the operations of the +brain; and the leisure which follows the daily labour of the +peasant and manufacturer, will, even if no other demands are made +upon it, afford but little scope for the over acquisition of +knowledge. Long will it be ere the English husbandman renounces for +study the pleasures of his weekly holiday, and long may it be ere +the Scottish peasant be withdrawn by a thirst for knowledge from +the duties of his Sabbath, and from the simple rights of his +morning and evening sacrifice.—<i>Foreign Rev</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>MR. CANNING.</h2> +<p>A beautiful medal in memory of this celebrated statesman, has +lately been struck at Paris, under the direction of M. Girard.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>NATURE AND ART.</h3> +<p>It is curious enough that people decorate their chimney-pieces +with imitations of beautiful fruits, while they seem to think +nothing at all of the originals hanging upon the trees, with all +the elegant accompaniments of flourishing branches, buds, and +leaves—<i>Cobbet's English Gardener.</i></p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE KING OF PRUSSIA</h3> +<p>Lives in comparative retirement, in a small palace fitted up +with the greatest simplicity, and his bed is really not better than +that usually allotted to a domestic in England. His study is quite +that of an official man of business. He has a large map of his own +dominions; and in each town where troops are stationed he fixes a +common pin, and on the head of the pin is a small bit of card, on +which are written the names of the regiments, their numbers, and +commanding officers, in the town. He thus, at any moment, can see +the disposition of his immense army, which is very essential to +such a government as Prussia, it being a mild despotic military +system. He has a most excellent modern map of the Turkish provinces +in Europe, and upon this is marked out every thing that can +interest a military man. A number of pins, with green heads, point +out the positions of the Russian army; and in the same manner, with +red-and-white- headed pins, he distinguishes the stations of the +different kinds of troops of the Turkish host.—<i>Literary +Gazette</i>.</p> +<h3>THE OPERA OF "OTELLO."</h3> +<p>Othello is altogether unsuited to the lyrical drama, and +supposing the contrary, Rossini, of all composers, was the most +unfit to treat such a subject in music. The catastrophe in the +English tragedy is necessary; we see it from the beginning as +through a long and gloomy vista. We weep, or shudder, we draw a +long sigh of despair, and feel that it could not have been +otherwise. But in the opera, Othello is a ruffian, without excuse +for his crime. We have suddenly a beautiful woman running +distracted about the stage to a symphony—and a very noisy +symphony—of violins, and butchered before our eyes to an +allegro movement.—<i>Foreign Review</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>FRENCH NOVELS.</h3> +<p>When last in Paris we were curious to know wherefore M. Jouy had +written such exceptionable and abominable stuff as his last novel; +and the gentleman to whom we addressed ourselves, answered, in a +light lively vein; "Oh! M. Jouy has a name, and the booksellers pay +well; and as they are very stupid, and depend on names for the sale +of their books, he wrote down the first matter that came into his +head."—<i>Foreign Review</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page190" name="page190"></a>[pg +190]</span> +<h3>AMBER.</h3> +<p>Polangen, the frontier town of Russia, is famous for its trade +in amber. This substance is found by the inhabitants on the coast, +between Polangen and Pillau, either loosely on the shore, on which +it has been thrown by the strong north and westerly winds, or in +small hillocks of sand near the sea, where it is found in regular +strata. The quantity found yearly in this manner, and on this small +extent of coast, besides what little is sometimes discovered in +beds of pit coal in the interior of the country, is said to amount +to from 150 to 200 tons, yielding a revenue to the government of +Prussia of about 100,000 francs. As amber is much less in vogue in +Western Europe than in former times, the best pieces, which are +very transparent, and frequently weigh as much as three ounces, are +sent to Turkey and Persia, for the heads of their expensive pipes +and hookahs. Very few trinkets are now sold for ornaments to +ladies' dresses; and the great bulk of amber annually found is +converted into a species of scented spirits and oil, which are much +esteemed for the composition of delicate varnish. In the rough +state, amber is sold by the ton, and forms an object of export +trade from Memel and Konigsberg.—<i>Granville's Travels in +Russia</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<p>The head of the late Dr. Gall has been taken off agreeably to +his wishes, and dissected and dried for the benefit of science.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>MUSICAL TALENT.</h3> +<p>All the principal Italian composers were <i>in flower</i> about +the age of twenty-five. There is scarcely an instance of a musician +producing his <i>chef-d'oeuvre</i> after the age of thirty. Rossini +was not twenty when he composed his <i>Tancredi</i>, and his +<i>Italiana in Algieri</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<p>The most important principle perhaps in life is to have a +pursuit—a useful one if possible, and at all events an +innocent one. The unripe fruit tree of knowledge is, I believe, +always bitter or sour; and scepticism and discontent—sickness +of the mind—are often the results of devouring +it.—<i>Sir Humphry Davy</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>COFFIN OF KING DUNCAN.</h3> +<p>A coffin has been discovered among the ruins of Elgin cathedral, +supposed to be that of the royal victim of Macbeth.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>AN IMPERIAL ENCORE.</h3> +<p>When Cimarosa's opera of <i>Matrimonio Segreto</i> was performed +before the Emperor Joseph, he invited all the singers to a banquet, +and then in a fit of enthusiasm, sent them all back to the theatre +to play and sing the whole opera over again!—<i>Foreign +Review</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<p><i>Dinner</i> is a corruption of <i>decimer</i>, from +<i>decimheure</i>, or the French repast <i>de dix-heure. Supper</i> +from <i>souper</i>, from the custom of providing soup for that +occasion.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LARKS.</h3> +<p>We have heard much of <i>Dunstable larks</i> but the enthusiasm +with which <i>gourmets</i> speak of these tit-bits of luxury, is +far exceeded by the Germans, who travel to Leipsic from a distance +of many hundred miles, merely to eat a dinner of larks, and then +return contented and peaceful to their families. So great is the +slaughter of this bird at the Leipsic fair, that half a million are +annually devoured, principally by the booksellers frequenting the +city. What is the favourite bird at the coffee-house dinners of our +friends in Paternoster Row?</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PAINTING CATS.</h3> +<p>Gottfried Mind, a celebrated Swiss painter, was called the +<i>Cat-Raphael</i>, from the excellence with which he painted that +animal. This peculiar talent was discovered and awakened by chance. +At the time when Freudenberger was painting that since-published +picture of the peasant cleaving wood before his cottage, with his +wife sitting by, and feeding her child with pap out of a pot, round +which a cat is prowling, Mind cast a broad stare on the sketch of +this last figure, and said in his rugged, laconic way, "That is no +cat!" Freudenberger asked, with a smile, whether Mind thought he +could do it better. Mind offered to try; went into a corner, and +drew the cat, which Freudenberger liked so much that he made his +new pupil finish it out, and the master copied the scholar's +work—for it is Mind's cat that is engraven in Freudenberger's +plate. Imitations of Mind's cats are already common in the windows +of printsellers.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PLAY-WRITING.</h3> +<p>When the manager of a theatre engaged Sacchini to write an +opera, he was obliged to shut him up in a room with his mistress +and his favourite cats, without them at his side he could do +nothing. The fifth act of <i>Pizarro</i> was actually finished by +Sheridan on the first evening of its performance, when the +illustrious playwright was shut up in a room with a plate of +sandwiches and two bottles of claret, to finish his drama.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page191" name="page191"></a>[pg +191]</span> +<h2>RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.</h2> +<h3>THE BISHOPRICKS OF ENGLAND AND WALES</h3> +<p>Were instituted according to the following order of time, viz. +London an Archbishoprick and Metropolitan of England, founded by +Lucius, the first Christian king of Britain, A.D. 185; Llandaff, +185; Bangor, 516; St. David's, 519. The Archbishoprick of Wales +from 550 till 1100, when the Bishop submitted to the Archbishop of +Canterbury as his Metropolitan; St. Asaphs, 547. St. Augustine (or +Austin) made Canterbury the Metropolitan Archbishoprick, by order +of Pope Gregory, A.D. 596; Wells, 604; Rochester, 604; Winchester, +650; Lichfield and Coventry, 656; Worcester, 679; Hereford, 680; +Durham, 690; Sodor and Man, 898; Exeter, 1050; Sherborne (changed +to Salisbury) 1056; York (Archbishoprick) 1067; Dorchester (changed +to Lincoln) 1070; Chichester, 1071; Thetford (changed to Norwich) +1088; Bath and Wells, 1088; Ely, 1109; Carlisle, 1133. The +following six were founded upon the suppression of monasteries by +Henry VIII.—Chester, Peterborough, Gloucester, Oxford, +Bristol, and Westminster, 1538. Westminster was united to London in +1550.—<i>Vide Tanner's Notitia Monastica</i>.</p> +<p>C. G. E. P.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ADDINGTON, SURREY.</h3> +<p>The lord of this manor, in the reign of Henry III. held it by +this service, viz. to make the king a mess of pottage at his +coronation; and so lately as the reign of Charles II. this service +was ordered by the court of claims, and accepted by the king at his +table.</p> +<p>C. G. E. P.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE BELL-SAVAGE INN</h3> +<p>On Ludgate-hill, has, for more than a century, since its name +was mentioned by Addison in the <i>Spectator</i>, occasioned a +great variety of conjectures. These conjectures, however, all +appear to have been erroneous, as the inn took the addition to its +name from its having belonged to, or been kept by, a person of the +name of <i>Savage</i>. The sign originally appears to have been a +bell hung within a hoop, a common mode of representation in former +times. This origin has been proved by a grant in the reign of Henry +VI. in which John French, gentleman of London, gives to Joan +French, widow, his mother, "all that tenement or inn called +Savage's Inn, otherwise called the Bell on the Hoop." In the +original "vocat" Savagesynne, alias vocat "Le Belle on the Hope." +Perhaps the phrase "Cock-a-Hoop," may be derived from the sign of +that bird standing on a hoop, thus most conspicuously displaying +himself, as we find that sign or rather design existed in the reign +above mentioned.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PARISH FEASTING.</h3> +<p>A dinner always accompanies meetings on public occasions; +feasting was formerly attached in like manner to chantries, +anniversaries, &c.; and, as it appears in part of the curious +items in the parish books of Darlington, clergymen officiated for a +donation of wine. It appears, too, that both ministers and +parishioners were saddled with charitable aids to itinerants of +various kinds; that noblemen granted passes in the manner of +briefs; and that it was deemed right and proper for even +churchwardens and overseers to patronize knowledge. Accordingly we +have,</p> +<p>"1630. To Mr. Goodwine, a distressed scholer, 2<i>s</i>. +6<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>"1631. Given to a poor scholler, 12<i>d</i>.—Given to Mary +Rigby, of Hauret West, in Pembrokeshire, in Wales, who had the +Earle of Pembroke's passe.... To an Irish gentleman that had fouer +children, and had Earl Marshall's passe, 12<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>"1635. To a souldier which came to the church on a Sunday, +6<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>"1639. For Mr. Thompson, that preached the forenoone and +afternoone, for a quart of sack, 14<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>"1650. For six quartes of sacke to the ministre that preached, +when we had not a ministere, 9<i>s</i>."</p> +<p>It is to be observed that this was in the <i>puritanical +era</i>.</p> +<p>"1653. For a primer for a poore boy, 4<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>"1666. For one quarte of sacke, bestowed on Mr. Jellet, when he +preached, 2<i>s</i>. 4<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>"1684. To the parson's order, given to a man both deaf and dumb, +being sent from minister to minister to London, 6<i>d</i>.—To +Mr. Bell, with a letter from London with the names of the Royal +Family, 6<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>This is a curious item; for it shows that the Mercuries, +diurnals, and intelligencers of the day, were not deemed sufficient +for satisfactorily advertising public events.</p> +<p>"1688. To the ringers on Thanksgiving Day, for the young Prince, +in money, ale, and coals, 7<i>s</i>. 4<i>d</i>."</p> +<p>This must have been for the birth of the Pretender, of +warming-pan celebrity.</p> +<p>"1691. For a pint of brandy, when Mr. George Bell preached here, +1<i>s</i>. 4<i>d</i>.—When the Dean of Durham preached here, +spent in a treat with him, 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.—<span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page192" name="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span>For a +stranger that preacht, a dozen of ale, 1<i>s</i>."</p> +<p>Thus it plainly appears that church-wardens had a feast jointly +with the minister at the parish expense, at least whenever a +stranger preached.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>THE GATHERER</h2> +<blockquote> +<p>"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."</p> +</blockquote> +<h4>SHAKSPEAKE.</h4> +<hr /> +<h3>STATIONERY LETTER.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>TO MR. ——, STATIONER, HOLBORN.</p> +<p class="i2">SIR,—Sometime ago I wrote to you to send me a +<i>ream</i> of <i>foolscap</i>, which I begged might be sent +without delay, as it was for the purpose of writing out my +Christmas bills. I think you must have forgotten me; and if I do +not have the <i>paper</i> soon, I may wear a <i>fool's-cap</i> on +account of not having my bills out in time. Mr. ——, +who, in your absence, must sustain the greatest weight of business, +and is, as I may say, the <i>Atlas</i> of your house, was the +person I chiefly depended on. As for Mr. ——, one of +your household, he dresses in <i>royal purple</i>, and being but in +a <i>medium</i> way between sickness and health, was drinking +<i>imperial</i> when I saw him, and therefore did not +in-<i>quire</i> about the business; nor did I choose to come +<i>cap</i> in <i>hand</i> to a gentleman that seemed as stately as +an <i>elephant</i>, though to my thinking he is a <i>bundle</i> of +conceit, all <i>outside</i> show; in short, a piece of +<i>lumberhand</i>, on whom I would not <i>waste paper</i> to write +him a <i>note</i>.</p> +<p class="i2">My journeyman, who is but a <i>demy</i> sort of a +chap, will make but a <i>small hand</i> of the bills, and I shall +go to <i>pott</i>. You also will be a sufferer, if you +<i>post</i>-pone sending my <i>paper</i>, for you shall have +neither <i>plate paper</i>,<a id="footnotetag7" name= +"footnotetag7"></a><a href="#footnote7"><sup>7</sup></a> nor a +<i>single crown</i>, no, nor a <i>cartridge</i> of halfpence from +me this half year, unless you play your <i>cards</i> better. I have +more bills to write out than a <i>bag cap</i>, made of the largest +<i>grand eagle</i> you have in your warehouse, could contain; so +that I shall look as <i>blue</i> as your <i>sugar</i>-paper, and +bestow on you to boot some very ugly prayers, not in <i>single +hand</i>, but by <i>thick</i> and <i>thin couples</i>, that will be +a <i>fine copy</i> for my young man to take example by, if you +disappoint.</p> +<p class="i2">Your humble servant, J. J.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<h3>RUSTIC SIMPLICITY.</h3> +<p>A village pastor was examining his parishioners in their +Catechism. The first question in the Heidelberg Catechism is this: +"What is thy only consolation in life and in death?" A young girl, +to whom the pastor put this question, laughed, and would not +answer. The priest insisted. "Well, then," said she, at length, "if +I must tell you, it is the young shoemaker, who lives in the Rue +Agneaux."</p> +<hr /> +<h3>TALL PEOPLE.</h3> +<p>The king of France, being at Calais, sent over an embassador, a +verie tall person, upon no other errand but a complement to the +king of England. At his audience he appeared in such a light garb, +that afterwards the king ask'd Lord-keeper Bacon "what he thought +of the French embassador?" He answer'd, "That he was a verie proper +man."—"I," his majestie replied, "but what think you of his +head-piece? is he a proper man for the office, of an +embassador?"—"Sir," returned he, "it appears too often, +<i>that tall men are like high houses of four or five stories, +wherein commonlie the upper-most room is worst-furnished</i>."</p> +<hr /> +<p>The following anecdote is perfectly indicative of that dry +humour which forms what Oxonians call a <i>cool +hand</i>:—When Mr. Gurney, afterwards rector of Edgefield, in +Norfolk, held a fellowship of Bene't, the master had a desire to +get possession of the fellows' garden for himself. The rest of the +fellows, resigned their keys, but Gurney resisted both his threats +and entreaties, and refused to part with his key. "The other +fellows," said the master, "have delivered up their +keys."—"Then, master," said Gurney, "pray keep them, and you +and I will keep all the other fellows out."—"Sir," continued +the master, "am not I your master?"—"Granted," said Gurney, +"but am I not your fellow?"</p> +<hr /> +<p>Louis XIV. was such a gourmand, that he would eat at a sitting +four platesful of different soups, a whole pheasant, a partridge, a +plateful of salad, mutton hashed with garlick, two good sized +slices of ham, a dish of pastry, and, afterwards, fruit and +sweetmeats. The descendant Bourbons are slandered for having +appetites of considerable action; but this appears to have been one +of a four or five man power.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A FLASH CARD.</h3> +<p>C. HAMMOND, Slap Kiksis Builder. Long Sleeve Kicksis got up +right, and kept by an artful dodge from visiting the knees, when +worn without straps. Trotter Cases, Mud Pipes, and Boot Kiv'ers, +carved to fit any Pins, and turned out slap.—(<i>Verbatim et +literatim copy</i>.)</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name= +"footnote1"></a> <b>Footnote 1</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag1">(return)</a> +<p>Merridew and Rider, Warwick and Leamington, and Goodhugh, +Oxford-street, London.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name= +"footnote2"></a> <b>Footnote 2</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag2">(return)</a> +<p>Only the other evening we heard two sons of the whip on a +hackney-coach stand thus invoke the showery deity: "God send us a +good heavy shower;" then the fellows looked upwards, chuckled, and +rubbed their hands.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote3" name= +"footnote3"></a> <b>Footnote 3</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag3">(return)</a> +<p>Even the greatest hero of the age, who has won all his glory +<i>by land</i>, has lately been drinking the Cheltenham +<i>waters</i>. The proprietor of the well at which he drank, +jocosely observed that his was "the best <i>well-in-town</i>."</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote4" name= +"footnote4"></a> <b>Footnote 4</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag4">(return)</a> +<p>This expression is not the exclusive property of Oxford, +Cambridge, or the Horse Guards. See Shakspeare's Henry VIII, where +the Duke of Buckingham says of Wolsey, "He <i>bores</i> me with +some trick;" like another great man, the Cardinal must have been a +great bore.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote5" name= +"footnote5"></a> <b>Footnote 5</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag5">(return)</a> +<p>Towards the close of the last opera season we heard a ludicrous +mistake. One of these fellows bawled out "the Duke of Grafton's +carriage;" "No," replied the gentleman, smiling, and correcting the +officious cadman, who had caught at the noble euphony, "Mr. +Crafter's."</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote6" name= +"footnote6"></a> <b>Footnote 6</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag6">(return)</a> +<p>See page 75.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote7" name= +"footnote7"></a> <b>Footnote 7</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag7">(return)</a> +<p>Bank notes.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="full" /> +<p><i>Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD. 143 Strand, London; 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 10845 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/10845-h/images/332-177-1.png b/10845-h/images/332-177-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d45f3a --- /dev/null +++ b/10845-h/images/332-177-1.png diff --git a/10845-h/images/332-177.png b/10845-h/images/332-177.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c53d45c --- /dev/null +++ b/10845-h/images/332-177.png |
