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diff --git a/11245-h/11245-h.htm b/11245-h/11245-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b66fc9 --- /dev/null +++ b/11245-h/11245-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1728 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Solaris (vers 1st October 2003), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Mirror of Literature, Issue 393.</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%;} + + .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;} + + .figure + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em; margin: auto;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + .figure p + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11245 ***</div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg +225]</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. XIV. No. 393.]</b></td> +<td align="center"><b>SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1829.</b></td> +<td align="right"><b>[PRICE 2d.</b></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>Glammis Castle</h2> +<div class="figure" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/393-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/393-1.png" alt= +"Glammis Castle" /></a></div> +<p>Here is a castellated palace, or princely castle, associated +with many great and daring events in the roll of Scottish history. +It stands in the valley of Strathmore, in a park of 160 acres, a +little to the north of Glammis, a village of Angus, N.B. The +original foundation is of high antiquity; for Malcolm II. was +assassinated here in the year 1034, and the chamber in which he +expired is still shown. Two obelisks, one near the Manse, and the +other in a neighbouring field, denote the places where he was +attacked. In this castle also, according to some historians, +Macbeth murdered Duncan. We notice, however, that Sir Walter Scott, +in his recently-published version of the story of Macbeth, states +the murder to have been committed at "a great castle near +Inverness," in which he is corroborated by Bæthius, who says, +the castle stood upon an eminence south-east of Inverness. But +Fordun says the murder was perpetrated near Elgin; and others say +at Cawdor Castle.</p> +<p>The Castle originally consisted of two rectangular towers, +longer than broad, with walls of fifteen feet in thickness; they +were connected by a square projection, and together formed a figure +somewhat like the letter Z, saving that in the castle all the +angles were right ones; this form gave mutual defence to every part +of the building. It contains a spiral staircase of 143 steps, +reaching from the bottom to the top of the building.</p> +<p>Glammis Castle is still the seat of the Strathmore family. It +was given by Robert I. of Scotland, in the year 1376, with his +daughter, to John Lyon, Lord Glammis, chancellor of Scotland. Great +alterations and additions were made to the building by Patrick, +Earl of Strathmore, his lineal heir and successor: these +improvements, according to the above cited plan, a date carved on a +stone on the outside of the building, and other authorities, were +made in the year 1606, and not in 1686, as is said in an old print +engraved about that time, and from which our view is copied. The +architect employed on this occasion, as tradition reports, was +Inigo Jones; indeed, the work seems greatly to resemble Heriot's +Hall at Edinburgh, and other buildings designed by him. The great +hall was finished in the year 1621; it is a handsome room with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg +226]</span> carved ceiling, adorned with heads and ornaments in +stucco. Among the apartments shown to visitors, are a wardrobe +containing a curious collection of old state dresses; the armoury, +in which are preserved the sword and coat of mail of Macbeth, as +well as some articles supposed to have been carried off by +Malcolm's murderers, and found in the Loch of Forfar, during the +last century; and the chapel built about 1500, the furniture of +which remains in its original state. Here also are about one +hundred portraits; among which is a large picture, in a carved +frame, representing Earl Patrick and his three sons; in the +background is a view of the castle, as it was in the year 1683. At +that time there were three gates leading from the park. Some idea +may be formed of the extent of this establishment from the +circumstance of eighty beds being made up within the house, for the +Pretender and his retinue, during their sojourn here, besides those +for the inferior servants, in the offices out of doors. The +forfeiture of the estate was prevented by the earl's brother being +killed at the head of his regiment on Shiremore.</p> +<p>In the courtyard is shown a stone, on which is engraved a cross +and divers figures, said to allude to the murder of Malcolm, and +the death of the murderers, who attempting to cross the Lake of +Forfar, then slightly frozen over, the ice broke, and they were +drowned: this stone is described and engraved by Mr. Pennant, in +his Tour through Scotland.</p> +<p>By way of enlivening these historical data, and as an +epigrammatic conclusion to our description, we subjoin a pleasant +little anecdote related by Sir Walter Scott, of a certain old Earl +of Strathmore, who, in superintending some improvements of the +castle, displayed an eccentric love of uniformity. "The earl and +his gardener directed all in the garden and pleasure-grounds upon +the ancient principle of exact correspondence between the different +parts, so that each alley had its brother—a principle now +renounced by gardeners. It chanced once upon a time that a fellow +was caught committing some petty theft, and, being taken in the +manner, was sentenced by the Bailie M'Wheeble of the jurisdiction +to stand for a certain time in the baronial pillory, called the +<i>jougs</i>, being a collar and chain attached to the uppermost +portal of the great avenue which led to the castle. The thief was +turned over accordingly to the gardener as the ground officer, to +see the punishment duly inflicted. When the Thane of Glammis +returned from his morning ride, he was surprised to find both sides +of the gateway accommodated each with a prisoner. He asked the +gardener, whom he found watching the place of punishment, as his +duty required, whether another delinquent had been detected? 'No, +my lord,' said the gardener, in the tone of a man excellently well +satisfied with himself, 'but I thought the single fellow looked +very awkward standing on one side of the gateway, so I gave +half-a-crown to one of the labourers to stand on the other side +<i>for uniformity's sake</i>.'"</p> +<hr /> +<h2>ON LOCALITIES:</h2> +<h3>LITERARY RECOLLECTIONS OF LONDON.</h3> +<h4>(<i>To the Editor of the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>No intellectual enjoyment, in my opinion, can surpass the +delight we experience when traversing those spots of the habitable +earth where celebrated warriors fought, minstrels sang, +philosophers pondered, or where philanthropists have immortalized +their names by deeds of charity. To roam through the romantic vales +of Italy—surrounded at all turns by the sad memorials of its +former magnificence—the mighty ruins of its temples and +palaces, and the mutilated remains of its statues and triumphal +columns, conveying to the mind mournful images of the fallen fates +of those who had for ages been its proud possessors; where the +Mantuan bard first caught inspiration from the deathless muse; +where Tully charmed the listening throng, whilst defending with +mild persuasion the arts and the sciences he loved, and condemning +in terrible denunciations the mad ambition that threatened the +destruction of his country; to wander among its groves, and say, +here Ovid, in lonely exile, soothed his sorrows with the melody of +his heaven-inspired strain; here Petrarch wooed his much-loved +Laura in sonnets soft as the affection that gave them birth; here +Tasso made history and Jerusalem immortal by crowning them with the +garlands of his Promethean genius; and here Ariosto, Dante, +Metastasio, and a galaxy of poets and philosophers shed the +splendour of their gifted imaginations on the expiring greatness of +their country.</p> +<p>Where is the portion of the civilized globe that has not some +delightful reminiscence connected with it? There is not a country +in the world, even the most barbarous, where the inhabitants will +not feel pride and pleasure in pointing out to your attention some +sacred <span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg +227]</span> spot ever dear to their memories: some battle-field or +scene of conquest; some warrior's grave; some monarch's sepulchre, +or some chieftain or legislator's dwelling. And what shall we say +of the classic soil of Greece? where the eye cannot turn, or the +foot move to a place which is not eternalized by its associations: +where the waters will not remind you of Castalian founts; the +flowers of Parnassian wreaths; the eminences of the Phocian hills; +and where the air of all breathes inspiration. To a mind prone to +contemplation, a walk through Athens must awaken the most exquisite +reveries. Although "fallen from its high estate," there is enough +in the tottering ruins which yet remain to recall the history of +its ancient grandeur: the shattered Acropolis and the Pyraeus tell +the tale of other days, in language at once pathetic and +intelligible—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"<i>The time has been when they were young and proud,</i></p> +<p><i>Banners on high and battles pass'd below</i>."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The mind must be distracted with the multiplicity of its +recollections; all that is great or good or glorious in our nature, +must be identified with some forcible remembrance; and heroes, +poets, statesmen, patriots, legislators, philosophers, and the +historical events connected with their names, must congregate +before us in sublime and touching similitude. "Alas, poor +country!"—On those shores the monuments of science and of +art, which drew admirers from the remotest corners of the earth, +are now demolished by the savage and cowardly slaves of a despot, +who is himself a slave; the eloquence which swayed the passions of +applauding multitudes is dumb; the pencil of Appelles that breathed +over the canvass, and the chisel of Praxiteles that gave life and +animation to shapeless blocks, are now no more; and the +all-powerful lyre, whose sweeping chords would rouse the soul to +rage or melt it into pity, is now, and perhaps FOR EVER, mute and +unstrung!</p> +<p>These observations, which you may think too enthusiastic, were +elicited by the perusal of an article in your No. 388, entitled "A +Desultory Chapter on Localities." Your Correspondent states, that +"it is needless to travel to foreign countries in search of +localities. In our own metropolis and its environs a diligent +inquirer will find them at every step." The following Collection +will serve to confirm the truth of his statement, and should you +deem it worthy "a local habitation" in your excellent journal, I +doubt not it will prove interesting, if not quite new to many of +your readers.<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a> <a href= +"#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> +<p>C.E.</p> +<p>"In St. Giles' Church lie Chapman, the earliest and best +translator of Homer; and Andrew Marvell, the wit and patriot, whose +poverty Charles II. could not bribe.—Who would suppose that +the Borough was the most classical ground in the metropolis? And +yet it is undoubtedly so. The Globe Theatre was there, of which +Shakspeare himself was a proprietor, and for which he wrote his +plays. Globe-lane, in which it stood, is still extant, we believe, +under that name. It is probable that he lived near it: it is +certain that he must have been much there. It is also certain that +on the Borough side of the river, then and still called the +Bank-side, in the same lodging, having the same wardrobe, and some +say, with other participations more remarkable, lived Beaumont and +Fletcher. In the Borough, also, at St. Saviour's, lie Fletcher and +Massinger in one grave; in the same church, under a monument and +effigy, lies Chaucer's contemporary, Gower; and from an inn in the +Borough, the existence of which is still boasted, and the site +pointed out by a picture and inscription, Chaucer set out his +pilgrims and himself on their famous road to Canterbury.</p> +<p>"To return over the water, who would expect any thing poetical +from East Smithfield? Yet there was born the most poetical even of +poets, Spenser. Pope was born within the sound of Bowbell, in a +street no less anti-poetical than Lombard-street. So was Gray, in +Cornhill. So was Milton, in Bread-street, Cheapside. The presence +of the same great poet and patriot has given happy memories to many +parts of the metropolis. He lived in St. Bride's Churchyard, +Fleet-street; in Alders-gate-street, in Jewin-street, in Barbican, +in Bartholomew-close; in Holborn, looking back to Lincoln's Inn +Fields; in Holborn, near Red-lion-square; in Scotland-yard; in a +house looking to St. James' Park, now belonging to an eminent +writer on legislation, and lately occupied by a celebrated critic +and metaphysician; and he died in Artillery-walk, Bunhill-fields; +and was buried in St. Giles', Cripplegate.</p> +<p>"Ben Jonson, who was born 'in Hartshorne-lane, near +Charing-cross,' was at one time 'master' of a theatre in Barbican. +He appears also to have visited a tavern called the Sun and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg +228]</span> Moon, in Aldersgate-street; and is known to have +frequented with Beaumont and others, the famous one called the +Mermaid, which was in Cornhill.</p> +<p>"The other celebrated resort of the great wits of that time was +the Devil Tavern, in Fleet-street, close to Temple-bar. Ben Jonson +lived also in Bartholomew-close, where Milton afterwards lived. It +was in the passage from the cloisters of Christ's Hospital into St. +Bartholomew's. Aubrey gives it as a common opinion, that at the +time when Jonson's father-in-law made him help him in his business +of bricklayer, he worked with his own hands upon the Lincoln's Inn +garden wall, which looks upon Chancery-lane, and which seems old +enough to have some of his illustrious brick and mortar still +remaining.</p> +<p>"Under the cloisters in Christ's Hospital (which stand in the +heart of the city unknown to most persons, like a house kept +invisible for young and learned eyes) lie buried a multitude of +persons of all ranks; for it was once a monastery of Gray Friars. +Among them is John of Bourbon, one of the prisoners taken at the +battle of Agincourt. Here also lies Thomas Burdet, ancestor of the +present Sir Francis, who was put to death in the reign of Edward +IV., for wishing the horns of a favourite white stag, which the +King had killed, in the body of the person who advised him to do +it. And here too (a sufficing contrast) lies Isabella, wife of +Edward II.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'She, wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,</p> +<p>Who tore the bowels of her mangled mate'</p> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em">GRAY</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>"Her 'mate's' heart was buried with her, and placed upon her +bosom! a thing that looks like the fantastic incoherence of a +dream. It is well we did not know of her presence when at school; +or after reading one of Shakspeare's tragedies, we should have run +twice as fast round the cloisters at night time, as we used. +Camden, 'the nourrice of antiquitie,' received part of his +education in this school; and here also, not to mention a variety +of others known in the literary world, were bred two of the most +powerful and deep-spirited writers of the present day; whose visits +to the cloisters we well remember.</p> +<p>"In a palace on the site of Hatton-garden, died John of Gaunt. +Brook House, at the corner of the street of that name in Holborn, +was the residence of the celebrated Sir Fulke Greville, Lord Brook, +the 'friend of Sir Philip Sydney.' In the same street, died, by a +voluntary death, of poison, that extraordinary person, Thomas +Chatterton—-</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'The sleepless boy, who perished in his pride.'</p> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em">WORDSWORTH</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>He was buried in the workhouse in Shoe-lane; a circumstance, at +which one can hardly help feeling a movement of indignation. Yet +what could beadles and parish officers know about such a being? No +more than Horace Walpole. In Gray's Inn, lived, and in Gray's Inn +Garden meditated, Lord Bacon. In Southampton-row, Holborn, Cowper +was a fellow-clerk to an attorney with the future Lord Chancellor +Thurlow. At the Fleet-street corner of Chancery-lane, Cowley, we +believe, was born. In Salisbury-court, Fleet-street, was the house +of Thomas Sackville, first Earl of Dorset, the precursor of +Spenser, and one of the authors of the first regular English +tragedy. On the demolition of this house, part of the ground was +occupied by the celebrated theatre built after the Restoration, at +which Betterton performed, and of which Sir William Davenant was +manager. Lastly, here was the house and printing-office of +Richardson. In Bolt-court, not far distant, lived Dr. Johnson, who +resided also for some time in the Temple. A list of his numerous +other residences is to be found in Boswell<a id="footnotetag2" +name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a>. +Congreve died in Surrey-street, in the Strand, at his own house. At +the corner of Beaufort-buildings, was Lilly's, the perfumer, at +whose house the Tatler was published. In Maiden-lane, +Covent-garden, Voltaire lodged while in London, at the sign of the +White Peruke. Tavistock-street was then, we believe, the +Bond-street of the fashionable world; as Bow-street was before. The +change of Bow-street from fashion to the police, with the theatre +still in attendance, reminds one of the spirit of the Beggar's +Opera. Button's Coffee-house, the resort of the wits of Queen's +Anne's time, was in Russell-street—we believe, near where the +Hummums now stand. We think we recollect reading also, that in the +same street, at one of the corners of Bow-street, was the tavern +where Dryden held regal possession of the arm chair. The whole of +Covent-garden is classic ground, from its association with the +dramatic and other wits of the times of Dryden and Pope. Butler +lived, perhaps died, in Rose-street, and was buried in +Covent-garden Churchyard; where Peter Pindar the other day followed +him. <span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>[pg +229]</span> In Leicester-square, on the site of Miss Linwood's +exhibition and other houses, was the town mansion of the Sydneys, +Earls of Leicester, and the family of Sir Philip and Algernon +Sydney. In the same square lived Sir Joshua Reynolds. Dryden lived +and died in Gerrard-street, in a house which looked backwards into +the garden of Leicester House. Newton lived in St. Martin's-street, +on the south side of the square. Steele lived in Bury-street, St. +James'; he furnishes an illustrious precedent for the loungers in +St. James'-street, where scandal-mongers of those times delighted +to detect Isaac Bickerstaff in the person of captain Steele, idling +before the Coffee-house, and jerking his leg and stick alternately +against the pavement. We have mentioned the birth of Ben Jonson, +near Charing-cross. Spenser died at an inn, where he put up on his +arrival from Ireland, in King-street, Westminster—the same +which runs at the back of Parliament-street to the Abbey. Sir +Thomas More lived at Chelsea. Addison lived and died in Holland +House, Kensington, now the residence of the accomplished nobleman +who takes his title from it. In Brook-street, Grosvenor-square, +lived Handel; and in Bentinck-street, Manchester-square, Gibbon. We +have omitted to mention that De Foe kept a hosier's shop in +Cornhill; and that, on the site of the present +Southampton-buildings, Chancery-lane, stood the mansion of the +Wriothesleys, Earls of Southampton, one of whom was the celebrated +friend of Shakspeare. But what have we not omitted also? No less an +illustrious head than the Boar's, in Eastcheap—the Boar's +Head Tavern, the scene of Falstaff's revels. We believe the place +is still marked out by a similar sign. But who knows not Eastcheap +and the Boar's Head? Have we not all been there time out of mind? +And is it not a more real, as well as notorious thing to us, than +the London Tavern, or the Crown and Anchor, or the Hummums, or +White's, or What's-his-name's, or any other of your contemporary +and fleeting taps?</p> +<p>"Before we rest our wings, however, we must take another dart +over the city, as far as Stratford at Bow, where, with all due +tenderness for boarding-school French, a joke of Chaucer has +existed as a piece of local humour for nearly four hundred and +fifty years. Speaking of the Prioress, who makes such a delicate +figure among his Canterbury Pilgrims, he tells us, among her other +accomplishments, that—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'French she spake full faire and featously;'</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>adding with great gravity,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'After the school of Stratford atte Bowe;</p> +<p>For French of Paris was to her unknowe.'</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>CURIOUS FACTS RELATING TO SLEEP.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>"Next to those nourishments that sustain the body (says Dr. +Venner) moderate and seasonable sleep is most profitable and +necessary. It helps digestion, recreates the mind, repairs the +spirits, and comforts and refreshes the whole body." It is also +observed by Dr. Hufeland, that "sleep is one of the wisest +regulations of nature, to check and moderate at fixed periods, the +incessant and impetuous stream of vital consumption. It forms as it +were, stations for our physical and moral existence, and we thereby +obtain the happiness of being daily reborn, and of passing every +morning through a state of annihilation, into a new and refreshed +life."</p> +<p>The writer of the article "Sleep." in Rees's +<i>Cyclopædia</i>, says, "the proportion of time passed in +sleep differs in different persons, and at different ages. From six +to nine hours may be reckoned about the average proportion. Men of +active minds whose attention is engaged in a series of interesting +enjoyments, sleep much less than the listless and indolent, and the +same individual will spend fewer hours in this way, when strongly +interested in any pursuits, than when the stream of life is gentle +and undisturbed. The Great Frederic of Prussia, and John Hunter, +who devoted every moment of their time to the most active +employments of body and mind, generally took only four or five +hours' sleep. A rich and lazy citizen, whose life is merely a +chronicle of breakfast, dinners, suppers, and sleep, will slumber +away ten or twelve hours daily. When any subject strongly occupies +us, it keeps us awake in spite of ourselves. The newly born child +sleeps most of its time, and seems to wake merely for the purpose +of feeding. Very old persons sleep much of their time; in the +natural progress towards death, the animal faculties are first +extinguished; accordingly, when they begin to decline in decrepit +old age, the periods of their intermissions are longer. The +celebrated De Moivre, when eighty-three years of age, was awake +only four hours out of the twenty-four; and Thomas Parr at last +slept the greatest part of his time. An eye-witness relates that +some boys, completely <span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id= +"page230"></a>[pg 230]</span> exhausted by exertion, fell asleep +amid all the tumult of the battle of the Nile; and other instances +are known of soldiers sleeping amid discharges of artillery, and +all the tumult of war. Couriers are known to sleep on horseback, +and coachmen on their coaches. A gentleman who saw the fact, +reported, to the writer of this article, that many soldiers in the +retreat of Sir John Moore, fell asleep on the march, and continued +walking on. Even stripes and tortures cannot keep off sleep beyond +a certain time. Noises at first prevent us from sleeping, but their +influence soon ceases, and persons rest soundly in the most noisy +situations. The proprietors of some vast iron-works, who slept +close to them, through the incessant din of hammers, forges, and +blast furnaces, would awake if there were any interruption during +the night. And a miller, being very ill and unable to sleep, when +his mill was stopped, on his account, rested well and recovered +quickly when the mill was set going again. Great hunger prevents +sleep, and cold affecting a part of the body has the same effect. +These causes operated on the unfortunate women who lived +thirty-four days in a small room overwhelmed by snow, and with the +slightest sustenance, they hardly slept the whole time."</p> +<p>P.T.W.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PERU: SIMPLICITY OF PASTORAL LIFE.</h3> +<h4><i>(To the Editor of the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<p>After all that has been written and said on South America, by +many recent travellers, it may probably be thought that the +following remarks are rather out of time; but as a single fact may +sometimes serve to show the state of a country more forcibly than +volumes, I am induced to relate an anecdote which will throw a +little light on the present situation of one portion of the natives +of Peru.</p> +<p>The Andes take their rise literally at the "end of the World;" +for Cape Horn certainly deserves that epithet, and the Straights of +Magellan, which divide Terra del Fuego from the continent are +comparatively no more than a mountain stream in a hilly country, so +that that island may without any impropriety be deemed a part of +it. The Andes are not one continuous chain of mountains; but an +immensity of piles raised one on another, at different elevations +of which are extensive plains, termed "Pampas," some of which +appear as boundless as the horizon, and totally divested of +herbage. On one of these plains, called the Pampa of Diesmo, in the +province of Junin, I was detained some days at the only hut to be +seen for leagues. One of the <i>arreóros</i>, or muleteers, +with me, a native of Madrid, remarked on the solitude of the spot, +adding, with a sigh, "This was a different place when first I +visited it." Within about half a mile from where we were then +conversing was an astonishing freak of Nature. In the midst of the +plain were about one hundred naked rocks rising abruptly from the +surface, in detached groups, some of which were as high as St. +Paul's, and many appeared like the spires of a cathedral. Pointing +to these eminences, the muleteer went on to say, "for five months +these rocks were my refuge from white men, and from them have I +seen an army of twenty-five thousand men traverse this plain again +and again; their only support for nearly fourteen months being +drawn from the spot." On asking an explanation, he bid me look +round and say if I thought I could count the number of sheep on the +Pampa. I readily answered I did not think there were fifty. "What +will you say, sir," said he, "when I tell you that sixteen years +since, there were, <i>on this plain alone, eight hundred thousand +sheep!</i> besides oxen; at that time there was scarcely an Indian +that did not possess at least two thousand, and this was only a +part of the wealth of Peru. The desolation that now exists may +justly be laid to the account of a revolution, which has only been +the means of creating a spirit of animosity amongst those who +before were cordially united; you yourself must be aware that if it +were known I was a Godo, (Old Spaniard), my life would not be worth +an hour's purchase; another thing you have yourself experienced, is +the total absence of hospitality in Peru. This is also an effect of +the revolution; for at the time I alluded to, a stranger in this +country need not expend a maravedi in travelling; but those days, I +fear, will never return."</p> +<p>This conversation occurred in the summer of 1827, and there are +a few readers of the MIRROR who were then in Peru, who will readily +recognise the writer.</p> +<p>VIATOR.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ON FEAR.</h3> +<h4><i>By Sir Thomas More.</i></h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If evils come not, then our fears are vain,</p> +<p>And if they do, fear but augments the pain.</p> +</div> +</div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>[pg +231]</span> +<hr /> +<h3>MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.</h3> +<h3>SKIMINGTON RIDING.</h3> +<h4><i>(To the Editor of the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<p>I have been amused by the accounts given in a former volume of +the MIRROR, of the curious custom called "Stanging;" may I be +allowed to edge in a few words descriptive of a ceremony belonging +to the same order, which prevails in my native county, (Dorset), +instituted and practised on the same occasions as those mentioned +in vol. xii., but differing from them in many material points, and +in my opinion partaking more of the theatrical cast than either of +those two mentioned by your correspondents. Having been an eye +witness to one or two of these exhibitions, I am enabled to give an +accurate account of the same. The name which they give to this +ceremony, as near as I can make out from the pronunciation, is +<i>Skimington Riding</i>; the origin of which name I have +endeavoured in vain to ascertain. The ceremony commences by two +fellows armed with stump brooms mounting on a ladder borne by four +or five more of the crowd, when sitting back to back, they commence +a fierce attack on each other with the brooms over their shoulders, +maintaining at the same time as the procession advances, a scolding +dialogue, or rather duet; one of them squeaking to represent the +angry tones of the better half, while the other growls his +complaints an octave below. In this manner, accompanied by the +shouts of the crowd, the rattling of old tin kettles, and the +blowing of cow's horns, producing altogether a horrible din, they +parade before the dwelling house of some peace-breaking couple; and +should they be in possession of any word or words made use of by +the unhappy pair in their squabbles, you may be sure such +expressions are repeated with all due emphasis by the performers on +the (stage) ladder. After making as much noise as they possibly can +before the fated dwelling, where they sometimes meet with a most +ungracious reception, they proceed in the same style through all +the streets of the parish in order that the whole place may be +apprized of the conduct of the offending couple; and they keep up +the game as long as they possibly can.</p> +<p><i>Sturminster.</i></p> +<p>RURIS.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A SEA-SIDE MAYOR.</h3> +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<p>At Yarmouth, a person is selected from among those employed on +the beach during the fishing season, who is denominated the +<i>Sea-side Mayor</i>, his office being to inflict certain +punishments and penalties on such fishermen as are found guilty of +pilfering herrings, &c.</p> +<p>The fishing commences in the latter part of September, a day or +two previous to which a procession goes round the town, the object +and order of which are as follow:—</p> +<p>A person grotesquely attired, and carrying a trident, to +represent Neptune,<a id="footnotetag3" name= +"footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a> precedes, +followed by four or five men bearing colours with inscriptions of +"Prosperity to the town of Yarmouth." "Death to our best Friends," +(meaning the herrings), "Success to the Herring Fishery," &c. +Then follows a band of musicians. The Sea-side Mayor (dressed as a +sailor, and wearing a gilt chain around his neck) brings up the +rear, in a handsome boat built for the occasion, and borne on the +shoulders of ten or a dozen men, wearing white ribands on the +breast of their jackets and on their hats.</p> +<p>In this order the procession calls at the shops of different +tradespeople, or any one at all connected with the herring fishery, +where they solicit contributions, and those who are disposed to be +liberal, are honoured with a tune from the musicians, and the +cheering of the mayor. After parading the town they retire to a +tavern to dinner. A great number of French and Dutch fishing boats +resort to Yarmouth at the herring fishing, and on the Sunday +previous to the 21st of September, "Dutch Fair," as it is +denominated, is held on the beach, and presents a novel and +interesting appearance.</p> +<p>From twenty to thirty of their flat bottomed boats are run on +shore at high water, and as the tide recedes, are left high and +dry. Dutch pipes, dried flounders, wooden shoes, apples, and +gingerbread, are then offered for sale, and if the weather be fine, +the beach is thronged with company, many of whom come from a great +distance.</p> +<p>W. S. L.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>[pg +232]</span> +<h3>SAXON NAMES OF THE MONTHS.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<p>December, which stood first, was styled "Mid-winter monath." +January was "Aefter-yule," or after Christmas. February +"Sol-monath," from the returning sun. March "Rhede, or Rhede +monath," rough, or rugged month. April "Easter monath," from a +favourite Saxon goddess, whose name we still preserve. May was +"Trimilchi," from the cows being then milked thrice in the day. +June "Sere monath," dry month. July "Maed monath," the meads being +then in their bloom. August was "Weod monath," from the luxuriance +of weeds. September "Haerfest monath." October they called "Winter +fylleth," from winter approaching with the full moon of that month. +And lastly, November was styled "Blot monath," from the blood of +the cattle slain that month, and stored for winter provision. +Verstegan names the months somewhat differently.</p> +<p>P.T.W.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CURIOUS BEQUEST.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<p>John Wardell, by will, dated August 29, 1656, gave to the +Grocers' Company, a tenement known by the name of the White Bear, +in Walbrook, to the intent that they should yearly, within thirty +days after Michaelmas, pay to the churchwardens of St. Botolph, +Billingsgate, £4. to provide a good and sufficient iron and +glass lantern, with a candle, for the direction of passengers, to +go with more security to and from the water side, all night long, +to be placed at the north-east corner of the parish church of St. +Botolph, from the Feast Day of St. Bartholomew to Lady Day; out of +which sum £1. is to be paid to the sexton for taking care of +the said lantern.</p> +<p>H.B.A.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SLEEPERS IN CHURCH.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<p>Richard Davey, in 1659, founded a free-school at Claverley, +Salop, and directed to be paid yearly the sum of eight shillings to +a poor man of the said parish, who should undertake to awaken +sleepers, and to whip out dogs from the church of Claverley, during +divine service.</p> +<p>H.B.A.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE SELECTOR;</h2> +<h3>AND LITERARY NOTICES OF <i>NEW WORKS</i>.</h3> +<hr /> +<h3>THE EPPING HUNT.</h3> +<h4><i>By Thomas Hood, Esq.</i></h4> +<p>We remember the appearance of Mr. Hood's first +work—<i>Odes and Addresses to Great People</i>; and many a +reviewer and printer rejoiced in the light columns which it +furnished them by way of extract. They made up very prettily beside +a theological critique, a somewhat lumbering book on political +economy, or a volume of deep speculations on geology. Hood's little +book, a mere thin pocket size, soon grew into notice and favour; +the edition ran off, and one or two more impressions have followed. +A host of imitators soon sprung up, but we are bound to acknowledge +that from the above to the present time, Mr. Hood has kept the +field—the Pampa of pun—to himself, and right sincerely +are we obliged for the many quips and quiddities with which he has +enabled us to <i>garnish our</i> pages. We say garnish, for what +upon earth can better resemble the garnishings of a table than Mr. +Hood's little volumes: how they enliven and embellish the feast, +like birds and flowers cut from carrots, turnips, and beet-root; +parsley fried <i>crisp</i>; cascades spun in sugar, or mouldings in +almond paste, at a pic-nic supper party.</p> +<p>We love a good motto, and one like Mr. Hood's speaks +volumes:</p> +<blockquote>"HUNTS ROASTED"—</blockquote> +<p>Next comes an advertisement of the author's endeavour to record +a yearly revel (the Epping Hunt,) already fast hastening to decay. +Mr. Hood is <i>serious</i>, as the following epistle will +show:—</p> +<p>"It was penned by an underling at the Wells, a person more +accustomed to riding than writing."</p> +<p>"Sir,—About the Hunt. In anser to your Innqueries, their +as been a great falling off laterally, so much so this year that +there was nobody allmost. We did a mear nothing provisionally, +hardly a Bottle extra, wich is a proof in Pint. In short our Hunt +may be sad to be in the last Stag of a Decline.</p> +<p>"I am, Sir,</p> +<p>"With respects from</p> +<p>"Your humble Servant,</p> +<p>"BARTHOLOMEW RUTT."</p> +<p>Then begins the tale.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>[pg +233]</span> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>John Huggins was as bold a man</p> +<p class="i2">As trade did ever know,</p> +<p>A warehouse good he had, that stood</p> +<p class="i2">Hard by the church of Bow.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There people bought Dutch cheeses round,</p> +<p class="i2">And single Glos'ter flat,—</p> +<p>And English butter in a lump,</p> +<p class="i2">And Irish—in a <i>pat</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Six days a week beheld him stand,</p> +<p class="i2">His business next his heart,</p> +<p>At <i>counter</i> with his apron tied</p> +<p class="i2">About his <i>counter-part</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The seventh in a sluice-house box,</p> +<p class="i2">He took his pipe and pot;</p> +<p>On Sundays for <i>eel-pie</i>ty,</p> +<p class="i2">A very noted spot.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Huggins gets "Epping in his head," and resolves to go to "the +Hunt."</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Alas! there was no warning voice</p> +<p class="i2">To whisper in his ear,</p> +<p>Thou art a fool in leaving <i>Cheap</i></p> +<p class="i2">To go and hunt the <i>deer</i>!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>No thought he had of twisted spine,</p> +<p class="i2">Or broken arms or legs;</p> +<p>Not <i>chicken-hearted</i> he, altho'</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas whisper'd of his <i>eggs</i>.'</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ride out he would, and hunt he would,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor dreamt of ending ill;</p> +<p>Mayhap with Dr. <i>Ridout's</i> fee,</p> +<p class="i2">And Surgeon <i>Hunter's</i> bill.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To say the horse was Huggins' own,</p> +<p class="i2">Would only be a brag;</p> +<p>His neighbour Fig and he went halves,</p> +<p class="i2">Like Centaurs, in a nag.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And he that day had got the gray,</p> +<p class="i2">Unknown to brother cit;</p> +<p>The horse he knew would never tell,</p> +<p class="i2">Altho' it was a <i>tit</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A well bred horse he was I wis,</p> +<p class="i2">As he began to show,</p> +<p>By quickly "rearing up within</p> +<p class="i2">The way he ought to go."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And so he jogged to Tot'n'am Cross,</p> +<p class="i2">An ancient town well known,</p> +<p>Where Edward wept for Eleanor</p> +<p class="i2">In mortar and in stone</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A royal game of fox and goose,</p> +<p class="i2">To play on such a loss;</p> +<p>Wherever she set down her <i>orts</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">Thereby he put a <i>cross</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now Huggins had a crony here,</p> +<p class="i2">That lived beside the way;</p> +<p>One that had promised sure to be</p> +<p class="i2">His comrade for the day.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>His friend had gone to Enfield Chase:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then Huggins turned his horse's head,</p> +<p class="i2">And crossed the bridge of Lea.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thence slowly on thro' Laytonstone,</p> +<p class="i2">Past many a Quaker's box,—</p> +<p>No friends to hunters after deer,</p> +<p class="i2">Tho' followers of a <i>Fox</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And many a score behind—before—</p> +<p class="i2">The self-same route inclin'd,</p> +<p>And minded all to march one way,</p> +<p class="i2">Made one great march of mind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Gentle and simple, he and she,</p> +<p class="i2">And swell, and blood, and prig;</p> +<p>And some had carts, and some a chaise,</p> +<p class="i2">According to their gig.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Some long-ear'd jacks, some knacker's hacks,</p> +<p class="i2">(However odd it sounds,)</p> +<p>Let out that day <i>to hunt</i>, instead</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Of going to the hounds</i>!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And some had horses of their own,</p> +<p class="i2">And some were forc'd to job it;</p> +<p>And some, while they inclin'd to <i>Hunt</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">Betook themselves to <i>Cob-it</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>All sorts of vehicles and vans,</p> +<p class="i2">Bad, middling, and the smart;</p> +<p>Here roll'd along the gay barouche,</p> +<p class="i2">And there a dirty cart!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And lo! a cart that held a squad</p> +<p class="i2">Of costermonger line;</p> +<p>With one poor hack, like Pegasus,</p> +<p class="i2">That slav'd for all the Nine!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And so he paced to Woodford Wells,</p> +<p class="i2">Where many a horseman met,</p> +<p>And letting go the <i>reins</i>, of course,</p> +<p class="i2">Prepared for <i>heavy wet</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And lo! within the crowded door,</p> +<p class="i2">Stood Rounding, jovial elf;</p> +<p>Here shall the Muse frame no excuse,</p> +<p class="i2">But frame the man himself.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The portrait is excellent:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A snow white head a merry eye,</p> +<p class="i2">A cheek of jolly blush;</p> +<p>A claret tint laid on by health,</p> +<p class="i2">With master reynard's brush.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A hearty frame, a courteous bow,</p> +<p class="i2">The prince he learn'd it from:</p> +<p>His age about three-score and ten,</p> +<p class="i2">And there you have Old Tom.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In merriest key I trow was he,</p> +<p class="i2">So many guests to boast;</p> +<p>So certain congregations meet,</p> +<p class="i2">And elevate the host.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>They start—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But Huggins, hitching on a tree,</p> +<p class="i2">Branched off from all the rest.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Then comes the motley mob—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Idlers to wit—no Guardians some,</p> +<p class="i2">Of Tattlers in a squeeze;</p> +<p>Ramblers, in heavy carts and vans,</p> +<p class="i2">Spectators up in trees.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Butchers on backs of butcher's hacks,</p> +<p class="i2">That shambled to and fro'!</p> +<p>Bakers intent upon a buck,</p> +<p class="i2">Neglectful of the <i>dough</i>!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Change Alley Bears to speculate,</p> +<p class="i2">As usual, for a fall;</p> +<p>And green and scarlet runners, such</p> +<p class="i2">As never climb'd a wall!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas strange to think what difference</p> +<p class="i2">A single creature made;</p> +<p>A single stag had caused a whole</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Stag</i>nation in their trade.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The deer is brought—-</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now Huggins from his saddle rose,</p> +<p class="i2">And in the stirrups stood;</p> +<p>And lo! a little cart that came</p> +<p class="i2">Hard by a little wood.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In shape like half a hearse,—tho' not</p> +<p class="i2">For corpses in the least;</p> +<p>For this contained the <i>deer alive</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">And not the <i>dear deceased</i>!</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Robin bounds out, and the hunt starts: Huggins—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Away he went, and many a score</p> +<p class="i2">Of riders did the same,</p> +<p>On horse and ass—like high and low</p> +<p class="i2">And Jack pursuing game.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Good lord! to see the riders now,</p> +<p class="i2">Thrown off with sudden whirl,</p> +<p>A score within the purling brook,</p> +<p class="i2">Enjoy'd their "early purl."</p> +</div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>[pg +234]</span> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A score were sprawling on the grass,</p> +<p class="i2">And beavers fell in show'rs;</p> +<p>There was another <i>Floorer</i> there,</p> +<p class="i2">Beside the Queen of Flowers!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Some lost their stirrups, some their whips,</p> +<p class="i2">Some had no caps to show;</p> +<p>But few, like Charles at Charing Cross,</p> +<p class="i2">Rode on in <i>Statue</i> quo.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"O, dear! O, dear!" now might you hear,</p> +<p class="i2">"I've surely broke a bone;"</p> +<p>"My head is sore,"—with many more</p> +<p class="i2">Such speeches from the <i>thrown</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Away they went then dog and deer,</p> +<p class="i2">And hunters all away.—</p> +<p>The maddest horses never knew</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Mad staggers</i> such as they!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Some gave a shout, some roll'd about,</p> +<p class="i2">And antick'd as they rode,</p> +<p>And butchers whistled on their curs,</p> +<p class="i2">And milkmen <i>tally-ho'd</i>!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>About two score there were, not more,</p> +<p class="i2">That gallopped in the race;</p> +<p>The rest, alas! lay on the grass,</p> +<p class="i2">As once in Chevy Chase!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And by their side see Huggins ride,</p> +<p class="i2">As fast as he could speed;</p> +<p>For, like Mazeppa, he was quite</p> +<p class="i2">At mercy of his steed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>No means he had, by timely check,</p> +<p class="i2">The gallop to remit,</p> +<p>For firm and last, between his teeth,</p> +<p class="i2">The biter held the bitt.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Trees raced along, all Essex fled</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath him as he sate,—</p> +<p>He never saw a county go</p> +<p class="i2">At such a county-rate!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Hold hard! hold hard! you'll lame the dogs:"</p> +<p class="i2">Quoth Huggins, "so I do,—</p> +<p>I've got the saddle well in hand,</p> +<p class="i2">And hold as hard as you!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And now he bounded up and down,</p> +<p class="i2">Now like a jelly shook:</p> +<p>Till bump'd and gall'd—yet not where Gall,</p> +<p class="i2">For bumps did ever look!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And rowing with his legs the while,</p> +<p class="i2">As tars are apt to ride;</p> +<p>With every kick he gave a prick,</p> +<p class="i2">Deep in the horse's side!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But soon the horse was well avenged,</p> +<p class="i2">For cruel smart of spurs,</p> +<p>For, riding through a moor, he pitched</p> +<p class="i2">His master in a furze!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Where sharper set than hunger is</p> +<p class="i2">He squatted all forlorn;</p> +<p>And like a bird was singing out</p> +<p class="i2">While sitting on a thorn!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Right glad was he, as well as might be.</p> +<p class="i2">Such cushion to resign:</p> +<p>"Possession is nine points," but his</p> +<p class="i2">Seemed more than ninety nine.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet worse than all the prickly points</p> +<p class="i2">That enter'd in his skin,</p> +<p>His nag was running off the while</p> +<p class="i2">The thorns were running in!</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>A jolly wight comes by upon</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A sorry mare, that surely came</p> +<p class="i2">Of pagan blood and bone;</p> +<p>For down upon her knees she went,</p> +<p class="i2">To many a stock and stone!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now seeing Huggins' nag adrift,</p> +<p class="i2">This farmer, shrewd and sage,</p> +<p>Resolv'd by changing horses here,</p> +<p class="i2">To hunt another stage!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So up on Huggins' horse he got,</p> +<p class="i2">And swiftly rode away,</p> +<p>While Huggins mounted on the mare</p> +<p class="i2">Done brown upon a bay!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And off they set, in double chase,</p> +<p class="i2">For such was fortune's whim,</p> +<p>The Farmer rode to hunt the stag,</p> +<p class="i2">And Huggins hunted him.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And, far remote, each scarlet coat</p> +<p class="i2">Soon flitted like a spark,—</p> +<p>Tho' still the forest murmur'd back</p> +<p class="i2">An echo of the bark.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But sad at soul John Huggins turn'd:</p> +<p class="i2">No comfort he could find.</p> +<p>Whilst thus the "Hunting Chorus" sped</p> +<p class="i2">To stay five bars behind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For tho' by dint of spur he got</p> +<p class="i2">A leap in spite of fate—</p> +<p>Howbeit there was no toll at all,</p> +<p class="i2">They could not clear the gate.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And, like Fitzjames, he cursed the hunt,</p> +<p class="i2">And sorely cursed the day,</p> +<p>And mus'd a new Gray's elegy</p> +<p class="i2">On his departed gray.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Huggins now betook him to the Wells—the Hunt was +o'er—and many a joke is told—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>How Huggins stood when he was rubb'd</p> +<p class="i2">By help and ostler kind,</p> +<p>And when they cleaned the clay before,</p> +<p class="i2">How "worse remain'd behind."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And one, how he had found a horse</p> +<p class="i2">Adrift—a goodly gray!</p> +<p>And kindly rode the nag, for fear</p> +<p class="i2">The nag should go astray.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Huggins claims the horse, and offers "a bottle and a pound" for +his recovery:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The wine was drunk,—the money paid,</p> +<p class="i2">Tho' not without remorse.</p> +<p>To pay another man so much,</p> +<p class="i2">For riding on his horse.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>MORAL.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thus Pleasure oft eludes our grasp,</p> +<p class="i2">Just when we think to grip her;</p> +<p>And hunting after Happiness,</p> +<p class="i2">We only hunt a slipper.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The tale occupies less than thirty pages, and may be read whilst +smoking a cigar. It is all quaint fun, whim, humour, and frolic, +and one of those merry morsels which amuse us more than the whole +leaven of utilitarianism; and if to laugh and learn be your maxim, +why read the "Epping Hunt." After this, hold your sides, and look +at the <i>cuts</i>, designed by George Cruikshank, and engraved by +Branston, Bonner, Slader, and T. Williams. Old Tom Rounding is the +frontispiece, in a cosy chair, and glass in hand—framed with +foxes', and Towler and Jowler's heads, antlers, &c. The rich +twinkle of Tom's eye, and the benevolent rotundity of his form, are +admirable. Huggins hitched on a tree is the next—then comes +"the beast charging in Tom's rear;" his perturbed look and the +saucy waggery of a round headed wight who has climbed into an +adjoining tree are a good contrast; Huggins "sitting on a thorn" is +another <span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id= +"page235"></a>[pg 235]</span> ludicrous picture of perturbation; +the cit on the grass, with "cattle grazed here" on a tree, is the +fifth; and Huggins being cleared of clay by two of Tom Roundhead's +helpers, with mop and broom, completes the cuts and catastrophes of +the Epping Hunt.</p> +<p>The engravings, one and all, are exceedingly clever, and +<i>proof impressions</i>, (which we observe are advertised,) will +soon find their way into scores of scrapbooks.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>The Sketch-Book.</h2> +<h3>THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>When the unfortunate Cedric (who had imbued his hands in the +blood of another,) was endeavouring by flight to a distant land to +evade the arm of justice, there existed a belief in a supernatural +being, whose exclusive office was,</p> +<p><i>To guide the whirlwind and direct the storm</i>.</p> +<p>It was imagined that he circumnavigated the globe in a chariot +of fire that was wafted on the wings of the wind through the +illimitable fields of aether, but that he ever kept within the +bounds of our atmosphere. His course was preceded by thunder and +lightning—and storm and tempest followed him wherever he +went. He visited every climate in succession, and had a vast +concourse of inferior spirits at his command. He never paused in +his terrible career, but to witness the shipwreck of a felon, and +then only was he visible to mortal view. He was The Spirit of the +Storm!</p> +<p>The recollection of this personage occurred to the mind of +Cedric, accompanied with no very pleasing associations, just as the +Levantine cleared the mouth of the harbour, and was bearing a full +sail before a propitious northern gale for India.</p> +<p>A quick voyage had almost brought the vessel successfully to the +desired port, when an accident, fatal in its termination occurred, +which we shall endeavour to relate.</p> +<p>There was on board an old man who had long been in the habit of +reading the almanac, observing the changes of the wind and moon, +the rising and setting of the sun, the degree of heat or cold, +dryness or dampness of the atmosphere, the form and colour of the +clouds, the rising and falling of the mercury, and several other +similar indications of the weather, who for his knowledge in these +matters, had obtained the epithet of "weatherwise," and indeed not +without reason, for although he might sometimes be wrong in his +prognostications to the no small amusement of others, and to his +own mortification; yet in general they were pretty correct, +especially of the approach of a storm in a tropical climate.</p> +<p>One fine evening whilst walking on the deck, he carelessly +observed, that there would be a heavy sea gale, accompanied by +rain, before morning. The captain of the vessel, who happened to be +within hearing, cursed the poor fellow for his prediction, +declaring that he kept the whole crew in a state of alarm, and +vowing that if he foretold another tempest he would throw him +overboard. The old man, who had a considerable opinion of his own +talents, calmly replied, "<i>experientia docet</i>."</p> +<p>Cedric, from being one of the most daring and reckless spirits +of his age, on hearing the above parley, and aware of their +proximity to a rocky and dangerous shore, became terrified. The +fear of a wreck overcame his once undaunted but now agitated frame, +and a stiff glass of grog was found necessary to support him.</p> +<p>At midnight (having previously been sleeping soundly, composed +by the soporific effects of the dram, lulled by the music of the +rising breeze, and the gentle undulations of the reeling vessel) he +was flung several yards from his hammock, and received a contusion +on the head, which for some time deprived him of his senses. When +he had somewhat recovered, the rocking of the vessel, the howling +of the wind, and the creeking of the timbers, told him but too +truly that the old man's prophecy was being fulfilled.</p> +<p>He went hastily on deck, half dressed and nearly frantic through +fear, to ascertain his opinion of the probable extent of the danger +to which they were exposed. But, alas! the old man, who had been +placed at the helm as the only person capable of conducting the +vessel in so perilous a situation, had been swept overboard by one +of the early surges. He spoke to many, but none seemed disposed to +listen to him; each person being too much engaged with his own +concerns to attend to those of others.</p> +<p>Every hand seemed paralyzed; the vessel without a steersman at +the helm—without a sailor to haul down a shroud, was cleaving +the ocean at the mercy of the winds and the waves!</p> +<p>His sense of guilt at this moment was overpowering; hitherto +(partly occasioned by ignorance, and partly by <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span> +depraved habits of life) a degree of thoughtlessness had possessed +him, which it is almost impossible to conceive could reign in the +breast of a being endued with reason. Now indeed his eyes were open +to his fate—to his earthly fate; a strange foreboding came +upon him; it was a species of instinctive horror; he could not look +beyond it. Whether there was a being who ruled the world, or +whether there was not, had never been the subject of his +meditations; yet a secret whisper intimated to him that death would +not be the bound of his hopes and his fears—of his joys and +his sorrows.</p> +<p>He was conscious of the blackness of his crime, which indeed was +of the deepest dye, and that he had never till then experienced the +arm of vengeance. He shuddered as the violence of the tempest +increased.</p> +<p>He had braved the seas—he had fought with the enemies of +his country; but never did fear paralyze the daring Cedric before. +He fell senseless on the deck entangled in the shattered cordage, +whereby he was preserved from being washed overboard by the +mountain billows, which every moment engulfed the vessel, +threatening immediate destruction to all on board.</p> +<p>The murkiest cloud that ever hid the skies from the view of man, +now rode in universal blackness over the horror-stricken crew, +which, opening every pore, as though at once to overwhelm creation, +poured forth its contents like one vast sea descending to overflow +another. The winds gathered from every quarter with unparalleled +fury. Thunders rolled with that incessant clamour which pervades a +field of earthly battle; but artillery, whose dreadful note hath +made the hardiest and the boldest quake, utters with but feeble +voice to that which that night growled on the craggy shores of +India. And lightnings fell, as when Elijah called on heaven to +answer him, and fire descended to proclaim the true Jehovah's name, +and hail the one true prophet!</p> +<p>The Levantine now struck with tremendous force against a rock, +which lay concealed amidst the swelling waters, and instantaneously +disappeared, leaving the wretched crew floating on the +surface—borne on the billows!</p> +<p>Cedric, by the tumultuous fury of the element, was thrown on a +shelf of one of the steep rocks which form a natural barrier +between the sea and land; being recovered from his stupor, he was +again awake to the horrors that surrounded him; what had become of +his comrades he knew not—he thought not. He clung to a +fragment of the precipice with the desperation and firm grasp of +madness—while every successive tide that rolled over his head +became stronger and stronger.</p> +<p>He counted the billows as they passed over him; he watched the +receding wave—he looked sternly at the approaching one. Time +with him was fast ebbing. The wave that was to wash him into +eternity was already curling towards him in fearful whiteness, +which the glare of lightnings that seemed to illuminate the +universe showed him in all its terrors.</p> +<p>At the same time he distinguished a towering rock which the +darkness had hitherto obscured, but which now rose in awful majesty +before him, amidst the spray and foam of the heaving surges, and +seemed a sea-god's throne! The sublimity and magnificence of the +storm were now at their height! On the summit of the conical rock, +which was reddened by the fierce blaze of the brilliant fires that +incessantly played around it, appeared a colossal figure, arrayed +in white, whose long tresses and flowing robes streamed with the +wind. The figure pointed at the hopeless Cedric with a deadly smile +on his countenance. Cedric glared wildly at the unearthly vision. +The last whelming wave approached and buried him for ever in the +foaming sea.</p> +<p>The spectre mounted his car, attended by an innumerable host of +tributary spirits, and was borne on the whirlwind to visit other +climes. He was the Spirit of the Storm!</p> +<p>CYMBELINE.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.</h2> +<h3>RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD FAVOURITE.</h3> +<blockquote>"In his wine he would volunteer an imitation of +somebody, generally of Incledon. His imitation was vocal; I made +pretensions to the oratorical parts; and between us, we boasted, +that we made up the entire phenomenon."<br /> +LEIGH HUNT'S BYRON.</blockquote> +<p>"Of Incledon? poor Charles Incledon!" said I, turning to his +portrait in the "Storm," hanging in goodly fellowship with a few of +the idols of my theatrical days, Siddons, Kemble, Bannister, Mrs. +Jordan, and G. Cook, in my little book-room—"Poor Charles +Incledon! The mighty in genius, the high in birth, the conceited in +talent, have not forgotten thee, then—and will even +condescend to imitate thee, to imitate <i>thee</i> who wast +<i>inimitable</i>!" I arose and walked about <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span> my +little sanctum in meditative mood. The days of old came o'er +me—the benefit nights—the play-bills, with the "Storm," +"Black-eyed Susan," &c. in the largest type, as forming the +most attractive morceaux in the bill of fare. Then followed the +squeeze in June! through that horrid passage in the old Covent +Garden Theatre!—then the well-earned climax—Incledon in +blue jacket, white trousers, red waistcoat, smart hat and +cane—the representative of Britain's best defenders, in +holiday garb—unaccompanied by orchestra or instruments, +depending upon naught but "the human voice divine," after his usual +walk before the lights, and repeatedly licking his lips, (as if he +thought that the sweet sounds which were accustomed to flow from +them must leave honey behind),—rolling forth with that vast +volume of voice, at once astonishing and delightful—"All in +the downs the fleet lay moored;" and then followed the strain of +love, manly love and constancy, in the beautiful language of Gay, +and in tones so rich, so clear, so sweet! every faculty was +absorbed in the sense of hearing! the hair seemed to rise, the +flesh to stir! the silence of the audience was holy—they +durst not, they could not, even applaud that which so enchanted +them, for fear of losing a note—I really think I could have +struck any one who could have shouted a "bravo!"—Never were +Milton's lines,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Soft Lydian airs</p> +<p>Married to immortal verse,</p> +<p>Such as the meeting soul may pierce</p> +<p>In notes, with many a winding bout</p> +<p>Of linked sweetness long drawn out,</p> +<p>With wanton heed and giddy cunning;</p> +<p>The melting voice through mazes running,</p> +<p>Untwisting all the chains that tie</p> +<p>The hidden soul of harmony."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>so illustrated as in the last line of Gay's "Black-eyed +Susan,"—</p> +<blockquote>"Adieu, she cried, and waved her lily +hand,"</blockquote> +<p>as sung by Incledon in his prime.</p> +<p>'Tis strange! here was "a voice that hath failed," and little or +nothing said of it—"Died at Worcester, on ——, the +celebrated vocalist, Charles Incledon," without further comment, +was all that most of the periodicals said at his decease. I +recollect nothing worthy of him being put forth, no essay upon his +voice and style—and why? because poor Charles Incledon had +ceased to be the fashion!</p> +<p>The time is somewhat advanced, but the quotation at the head of +this article has brought to my mind what ought to have been done by +abler hands; and I will endeavour to point out what we possessed in +this singer, and what we have lost by his death.</p> +<p>And how am I qualified, for the task? With respect to the +knowledge of the <i>science</i> of music I cannot boast—but +Rousseau says—"Disoit autrefois un sage, c'est an poete +à faire de la poesie, et an musicien à faire de la +musique; mais il n'appartient qu'au philosophe de <i>bien</i> parle +de l'une et de l'autre." And there are hearts, such as inspired the +poet when he wrote—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Withdraw yourself</p> +<p>Unto this neighbouring grove; there shall you see</p> +<p>How the sweet treble of the chirping birds,</p> +<p>And the sweet stirring of the moved leaves,</p> +<p>Running delightful descant to the sound</p> +<p>Of the base murmuring of the bubbling brook,</p> +<p>Becomes a concert of good instruments,</p> +<p>While twenty babbling echoes round about,</p> +<p>Out of the stony concave of their mouths,</p> +<p>Restore the vanish'd music of each close,</p> +<p>And fill your ears full with redoubled pleasure." <a id= +"footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4"></a><a href= +"#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>such as warmed Spenser when he wrote his "Bowre of Blesse;" +Tasso his "Gardens of Armida;" Collins his "Melancholy," who</p> +<blockquote>"Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive +soul"—</blockquote> +<p>such hearts, I say, and such as have drunk with unsatiated +thirst at the fountains of these "masters of the lay," are better +qualified to speak upon a question of the "concord of sweet sounds" +than all the merely scientific musicians, whether professors or +amateurs, in the world.</p> +<p>"Of melody aye held in thrall," I profess myself an admirer of +that English music which preceded the appearance of Mr. +Braham—the music of Arne, Jackson, Carter, Storace, Linley, +Shield, Davy, even of Dibdin, and of those fine airs, (the names of +whose composers are now little better than traditional), which glow +in the Beggar's Opera. And of this music there never was heard a +singer equal to Incledon, and perhaps never will. The pathos, the +richness, the roundness, the satisfying fulness to the ear, which +characterize these composers, can never be mastered by the +<i>merely scientific</i> singer; <i>they</i> composed for the +<i>voice</i>, and without that organ in its most perfect state, +complete justice can never be done to their strains.</p> +<p>I before said these masters flourished previous to the debut of +Mr. Braham; for it is in a great measure owing to that gentleman, +and the false taste he introduced and has kept alive, that they are +now so seldom heard in our theatres, concerts, or drawing-rooms. We +have lost the notes of melody and feeling, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span> and +what have we in their stead? The glitter and plagiarism of Rossini, +the ponderous science of Weber, and the absolute trash of all our +English composers. The last mentioned gentlemen certainly came into +court "in forma pauperis,"—satisfied with the merit of +arrangers, harmonizers, &c., and are found to confess, when +detection is probable, that the very soul of their pieces—the +melody<a id="footnotetag5" name="footnotetag5"></a><a href= +"#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a>—is taken from such an Italian, +such a Sicilian, Greek, nay even Russian air.</p> +<p>I think I can, in some degree, account for the fashion these +composers have gained, and why, I fear, they are likely to maintain +it. It is that the <i>public have become too musical</i>. Every +female, from the highest to the lowest, whose parents can purchase +a piano-forte, and pay a master, <i>must</i> learn music; the +number of teachers and pupils are multiplied without end; and out +of either class how many are there qualified by nature as singers? +Not two in fifty. What follows? By labour and attention +<i>science</i> may be acquired, although <i>voice</i> cannot. The +voiceless teacher may instruct his voiceless pupil in the foppery +of an art, the <i>spirit</i> of which is unattainable by either; +pieces merely scientific are placed by him on her piano—are +performed to the credit of both, with vast execution, as far as +respects the science and the harmony—-but as for the singing, +as singing ought to be, 'tis</p> +<blockquote>"Worse than the howling of Irish wolves against the +moon."</blockquote> +<p>Well—<i>Miss</i>, from the expense and pains bestowed upon +her, must, of course, be the musical oracle of the family; the +father must forego his favourite old songs, written by +"<i>honest</i> Harry Carey," (as Ritson insists on his being +called); the mother is laughed to scorn if she mentions "Auld Robin +Gray," "Mary's Dream," "Oh, Nanny, wilt thou gang wi' me?"—or +such obsolete stuff;—and even the brothers, who might stickle +a little for Moore's melodies,</p> +<blockquote>"With thoughts that breathe and words that +burn,"</blockquote> +<p>are silenced with, "Pooh! any body can sing them."</p> +<p>Thus is the family taste made up; and this extends to the +patronage of singers in the style alone deemed correct, as it is +the quantity of public patronage which must influence the manager +of either theatre or concert in the persons he engages. And thus +has the great extension of musical taste been injurious to +music.</p> +<p>But, to return to our old favourite. All who remember him must +likewise remember his powers of attraction ere this blight of +<i>fashion</i> had come over us. Witness his various benefits, and +above all, that at the Opera House, producing, it is said, +1,500<i>l</i>. Such marks of public favour, added to the constant +request of company, both public and private, and to a man who, like +Incledon, <i>loved</i> his art, were sure to be productive of +<i>vanity</i>—vanity, the besetting sin of all great men, +from Alexander on his Persian throne, to Mr. Kean enthroned in the +Coal Hole.—His education had been limited. The songs chiefly +in vogue at the early part of the late war were <i>nautical</i>, +which led him to a bold, free style; these were his +faults—vanity, want of cultivation, and a freedom of manner +approaching to excess. But he had a qualification as a singer which +threw all these into shade. The "Spectator," I believe, somewhere +says it is necessary for a good dancer to have a good +understanding; but I think it is much more necessary for a good +singer to have a <i>good and feeling heart</i>; and whether singing +or acting his part in the drama of life, with family, friends, or +brother (not forgetting sister) performers, Charles Incledon had as +warm a heart as ever beat.</p> +<p>I cannot completely effect my purpose of reminding the public of +what they have lost in this fine singer, without recurrence to the +songs in which he earned his fame. "Pleasant is the recollection of +the joys that are passed," says Ossian; and what a delightful +store-house of melody is opened by the remembrance of these songs! +At the head of the list, in unapproachable beauty, stand his +"Black-eyed Susan," "Storm," "Old Towler," and "Lads of the +Village;" songs which few voices can attempt, and none dare hope to +equal him in. Then, as operas, we had first his Macheath, a part in +which, notwithstanding what has been said of his slovenly acting, I +think him unequalled. His was the voice to burst forth in the rich +melodies of that <i>equivocal</i> piece—<i>he</i> was the +<i>gentleman</i> who, if ruined by excess, could become the +<i>highwayman</i>—his was the dashing, manly style to ensnare +either a Polly or a Lucy. Poor Macheath is now emasculated, because +<i>no man</i> has voice to sing his songs. I have heard Mr. Young +has played the part, and "report speaks goldenly" of <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span> his +singing, and I deeply regret not having heard him. I understand he +sings Moore's melodies better than any body; and think it likely, +from the few "snatches" I have heard him give. By the bye, +excepting the hurried, thick utterance of Incledon when speaking, +there is great resemblance, as far as regards voice, between that +singer and Mr. Young.</p> +<p>As a Shakspearean, I must class next his two sweet songs in "As +You Like it." His was the pipe to be listened to amongst the +warblers of "Ardenne," in Dr. Arne's delicious "Blow! blow! thou +Winter's wind," and "Under the green-wood tree." "Oh!" as Jaques +says, "I can suck melancholy from the recollection of these songs +as a weasel sucks eggs." Then follow Jackson of Exeter's "Lord of +the Manor," and Dibdin's "Quaker" and "Waterman;" pieces after +Incledon's own heart; all free, rich, clear melody, without +glitter.</p> +<p>But of all the composers of his own day, Shield<a id= +"footnotetag6" name="footnotetag6"></a><a href= +"#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a> was his favourite; and justly. He +furnished him with most of his popular songs. The singer was the +peculiar organ of the composer—his "Thorn," his "Mouth which +a Smile," "Tom Moody," "Heaving the Lead," and many, many others, +seem to have faded away with the voice of the melodist.</p> +<p>But I find, were I to run through, as I proposed, all the songs +<i>peculiar</i> to my hero, I should, most likely, tire my reader. +The delight with which I dwell upon them is a species of egotism; I +will therefore only name a few more, and "leave him alone with his +glory."—"Sally in our Alley," the song Addison was so fond +of; what an <i>association!</i> "Post Captain," "Brown Jug." In his +decline, even "His father he lost," and "On Lethe's banks," in +Artaxerxes;—hear the singers of the present day sing these +songs! "Bay of Biscay," "When Vulcan forged," the second of "All's +Well," "Bet, sweet blossom," "Will Watch," "Last Whistle," &c. +&c. Alas! alas! and all this over! He has piped his last +whistle, and poor Charles "sleeps in peace with the dead!"</p> +<p>In concluding, I cannot but observe, that no singer has so +completely identifies himself with particular songs. Those in which +he most excelled, he stamped as his own—no one can touch them +"while his memory be green."</p> +<p>When the race who heard him has faded away, some one may attempt +them; but I should as soon think of going to see Mr. Kean play +Coriolanus, as to hear another sing "Black-eyed Susan." My mind is +filled—I have Kemble's noble patrician <i>perfect</i> before +me; I have Gay's ballad in Incledon's notes as fully in "my mind's +<i>ear,</i>" and I would not have them displaced.</p> +<p><i>Blackwood's Magazine.</i></p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE GATHERER.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.</p> +<p>Shakspeare.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><i>The following is inscribed on a black Tablet in Sherborne +Church, Dorset:</i></p> +<blockquote>This Monument was erected by Mr. Thomas Mansel, of this +Towne, in remembrance of a great hailstorme, May 16th, 1709, +between the hours of one and four in the afternoon; which stopping +the course of a small river, west of this church, caused of a +sudden an extraordinary flood in the Abbey Garden and Green, +running with so rapid a stream, that it forced open the north door +of the church, displaced and removed about 1,222 feet of the +pavement, and was two feet and ten inches high as it passed out at +this south door.</blockquote> +<p><i>Sturminster.</i></p> +<p>RURIS.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ANTIQUITY AND INTEREST.</h3> +<p>In the kitchen of a public house called the Cross in Hand, at +Waldron, in Sussex, there is an ancient couple, who appear to have +been companions for more than seven hundred years. These are a pair +of dog, or brandirons, with the date of 1115 on each. Suppose their +original cost to have been five shillings; this sum put out at +simple interest, together with the principal, would now have +amounted to nine pounds, twelve shillings, and sixpence; but at +compound interest it would be two hundred and fifty eight billions, +seven hundred and eighty four millions, two hundred and thirty +thousand, six hundred and fifty six pounds sterling.</p> +<p>J.B.—Y.</p> +<hr /> +<p>King James I. mounting a horse that was unruly, said, "The de'il +tak' my saul, sirrah, and ye be na quiet, I'll send ye to the five +hundred kings in the House of Commons—they'll soon tame +you."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>[pg +240]</span> +<p>On the road to Hastings are two hotels, nearly opposite one +another, the one kept by a person of the name of Hogsflesh, the +other by a person named Bacon.</p> +<p>T.R.W.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A JUDICIOUS TITLE.</h3> +<p>On a vacancy on the Scotch bench, a certain advocate of some +standing at the bar, but by no means remarkable for the brilliancy +of his parts, or the extent of his legal knowledge, was in full +expectation of being appointed to the vacant gown. This is done by +a court letter, signed with the King's sign manual. In the full +flutter of his darling hopes, he one day encountered an old brother +lawyer, notorious for the acidity of his temper, and the poignancy +and acrimony of his remarks. "Weel, friend Robby," said the latter, +"I hear you're to get the vacant gown."—"Yes, Mr. C—k, +I have every reason to believe so."—"Have ye gotten doon your +letter yet frae London?"—"No: but I expect an express every +minute."—"Nae doot, nae doot; have you bethocht yoursel o' +what teetle ye're to tak'? Lord H—n will never do; ye ken +that's the teetle o' ane o' oor grandest dukes. Gudesake, for a bit +session lordy, like you, to gang by that style and teetle o' ane +high and michty prince! that wad be a bonny boorlesque on a' +warldly honours and dignities. Weel a weel, let that be a pass +over. Noo a teetle ye maun hae, that's as clear as the licht, and +there's ane come just now into my head that will answer ye to a T; +when ye're a lord, freend, Robby, ye'll be Lord Preserve +Us?"—"You are very impertinent Mr. C—k," replied the +nettled judge expectant; "I am sure you may find a +waur."—There never, perhaps, was, or will be, comprehended so +much pithy meaning and bitter sarcasm in a single syllable, as that +which formed the astounding response—"Whaur (where)?"</p> +<hr /> +<h3>GREGORY THE GREAT A PUNSTER.</h3> +<p>Gregory the great was a punster, as appears from an anecdote +related of him, and which gave the first impulse to his exertions +to promulgate Christianity in this country. It was sometime before +he was advanced to St. Peter's chair, and when he was only a deacon +in the church, that he saw some handsome youths for sale in the +open market: struck with their appearance, he inquired whence they +were, and was answered they were <i>Angli (English.)</i> "They are +rightly called," said he, "for they seem Angeli," (of or belonging +to angels,) and asking what province they were of among the Angli; +he was told of <i>Deira</i> (part of the kingdom of Northumbria.) +Ah, exclaimed he, <i>De ira Dei sunt liberandi</i>. Learning +farther that their king was named <i>Alle</i>, he said how fitly +may he sing <i>Alle</i>lujahs to God, who possesseth such subjects. +From that time he seriously endeavoured to bring about the +conversion of the English nation, and a few years afterwards, being +Pope, he happily effected it by the travels and labours of St. +Augustine, who was the first Archbishop of Canterbury.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>EPITAPH</h3> +<p><i>In St. Mary's Churchyard, Lambeth.</i></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>God takes the good, too good to stay,</p> +<p>He leaves the bad, too bad to take away.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>MUSIC.</h3> +<p><i>Voluntary composed under the impulse of peculiar sensibility, +by Rainer, of Frankfort.</i></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Fol, di, lol, tol, tiddle lol de de di do</p> +<p>ral tal lil liddle lal lal de ra.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>ORTHOGRAPHY.</h3> +<p>The following is a literal copy of a notice upon a gate between +Cheltenham and Gloucester:—</p> +<blockquote>"Here is No Public Road: whosdomnever tresprss on wil +be proccuted to the hutmast Reglar."</blockquote> +<p>C.J.T.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>HONOURABLE SERVICE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If one has served thee, tell the deed to many,</p> +<p>Hast thou served many, tell it not to any.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>LIMBIRD'S EDITION OF THE _Following Novels is already +Published;_</h3> +<pre> + s. d. +Mackenzie's Man of Feeling . . . . . 0 6 +Paul and Virginia . . . . . . . . . . 0 6 +The Castle of Otranto . . . . . . . . 0 6 +Almoran and Harnet . . . . . . . . . 0 6 +Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia . 0 6 +The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne . 0 6 +Rasselas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0 8 +The Old English Baron . . . . . . . . 0 8 +Nature and Art . . . . . . . . . . . 0 8 +Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield . . . 0 10 +Sicilian Romance . . . . . . . . . . 1 0 +The Man of the World . . . . . . . . 1 0 +A Simple Story . . . . . . . . . . . 1 4 +Joseph Andrews . . . . . . . . . . . 1 6 +Humphry Clinker . . . . . . . . . . . 1 8 +The Romance of the Forest . . . . . . 1 8 +The Italian . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 0 +Zeluco, by Dr. Moore . . . . . . . . 2 6 +Edward, by Dr Moore . . . . . . . . . 2 6 +Roderick Random . . . . . . . . . . . 2 6 +The Mysteries of Udolpho . . . . . . 3 6 +Peregrine Pickle . . . . . . . . . . 4 6 +</pre> +<hr class="full" /> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name= +"footnote1"></a> <b>Footnote 1</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag1">(return)</a> +<p>Is not this very interesting extract by Leigh Hunt?—We +have not his <i>Indicator</i> at hand for reference.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name= +"footnote2"></a> <b>Footnote 2</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag2">(return)</a> +<p>The Temple must have had many eminent inmates. Among them, it is +believed, was Chaucer, who is also said, upon the strength of an +old record, to have been fined two shillings for beating a +Franciscan Friar in Fleet-street.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote3" name= +"footnote3"></a> <b>Footnote 3</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag3">(return)</a> +<p>An individual named Joseph Penny, was for many years the +representative of Neptune. He was a man of daring spirit, and there +are many living at this time who were indebted to his intrepidity +for being rescued from drowning. In the month of November 1825, +accompanied by his son, he went off from the beach in an open boat, +to a vessel in distress, soon after which the boat was washed +ashore, with the body of the son entangled in the rigging; but the +father was never again heard of.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote4" name= +"footnote4"></a> <b>Footnote 4</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag4">(return)</a> +<p>"Lingua." Dodsley's Old Plays.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote5" name= +"footnote5"></a> <b>Footnote 5</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag5">(return)</a> +<p>"Melody is the essence of Music," said Mozart to Michael Kelly; +"I compare a good melodist to a <i>fine racer</i>, and +counter-points to <i>hack post-horses</i>."</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote6" name= +"footnote6"></a> <b>Footnote 6</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag6">(return)</a> +<p>Let the lover of melody look over the list of works published, +in the obituary of that beautiful composer!</p> +</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> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11245 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/11245-h/images/393-1.png b/11245-h/images/393-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9275bb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/11245-h/images/393-1.png |
