summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/old/11347-h/11347-h.htm
blob: d0d2e31f48e007d4184a109746bce01372f42523 (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482

<!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 http-equiv="Content-Type"
    content="text/html; charset=us-ascii" />
    <title>
      The Mirror of Literature, Issue 370.
    </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;}

    .figure              {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em; margin: auto;}
    .figure img          {border: none;}
    .figure p
    -->
    /*]]>*/
    </style>
  </head>
  <body>


<pre>

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and
Instruction, by Various

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction
       Volume XIII, No. 370, Saturday, May 16, 1829.

Author: Various

Release Date: February 27, 2004 [EBook #11347]

Language: English

Character set encoding: US-ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF LITERATURE, NO. 370 ***




Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Allen Siddle, David Garcia and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.






</pre>

    <hr class="full" />
    <span class="pagenum"><a id="page321" name="page321"></a>[pg
    321]</span>
    <h1>
      THE MIRROR<br />
       OF<br />
       LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
    </h1>
    <hr class="full" />
    <table width="100%" summary="Banner">
      <tr>
        <td align="left">
          <b>VOL. XIII, NO. 370.]</b>
        </td>
        <td align="center">
          <b>SATURDAY, MAY 16, 1829.</b>
        </td>
        <td align="right">
          <b>[PRICE 2d.</b>
        </td>
      </tr>
    </table>
    <hr class="full" />
    <h2>
      LALEHAM PARK:
    </h2>
    <div class="figure" style="width: 100%;">
      <a href="images/370-1.png"><img width="100%"
      src="images/370-1.png"
      alt="The Residence of the Young Queen of Portugal." /></a>
    </div>
    <p>
      Circumstances, in themselves trivial, often confer celebrity
      upon places hitherto of unlettered note. Thus, a beautiful
      villa at Laleham, a village in Middlesex, eighteen and a half
      miles south west of London, has acquired frequent passing
      notice from its having lately become the temporary residence
      of the young "<i>Queen of Portugal</i>," whose removal to
      England appears to have been a prudent measure to keep her
      <i>petite</i> Majesty "out of harm's way."
    </p>
    <p>
      Laleham is delightfully situate on the banks of the Thames,
      between Shepperton and Staines, and is famed for the
      entertainment it affords to the lovers of angling. The river
      narrows considerably here; and about the shallows, or gulls,
      the water is beautifully transparent. The above temporary
      royal residence is built in an elegant villa style; and the
      grounds have been very tastefully laid out under the
      immediate direction of the present proprietor, the Earl of
      Lucan. They comprise 40 acres, with some very fine elm
      timber.
    </p>
    <p>
      The "Young Queen" is described as an interesting and lively
      child, and is within a month of the same age as the Princess
      Victoria, and Prince George of Cumberland, both of whom were
      born in May, 1819. She has not the slightest tinge of a
      tropical complexion; her hair is extremely light, her face
      pale, her eyes light blue and very sparkling. She is not tall
      of her age, but remarkably well formed. Her Majesty arrived
      in London in October last, and for some time resided at
      Grillon's Hotel, Albemarle Street; but her health requiring
      change of air, Laleham was engaged for a short period;
      although, in allusion to the situation, it was said to be
      very <i>low</i>&mdash;a flat joke indeed.
    </p>
    <p>
      In this delightful retreat, the young Queen and her suite at
      present reside; and so pacific is our taste, that to enjoy
      the tranquil scenery of Laleham, and the sports of the stream
      that waters its park, we would willingly forego all the cares
      of state, and leave its plots and counterplots to more
      ambitious minds. We could sit by the waters of Laleham, and
      sing with the muse of Grongar:
    </p>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          Be full ye courts, be great who will;
        </p>
        <p>
          Search for peace with all your skill;
        </p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page322"
        name="page322"></a>[pg 322]</span>
        <p>
          Open wide the lofty door,
        </p>
        <p>
          Seek her on the marble floor;
        </p>
        <p>
          In vain you search, she is not there;
        </p>
        <p>
          In vain you search the domes of care!
        </p>
        <p>
          Grass and flowers Quiet treads,
        </p>
        <p>
          On the meads and mountain-heads.
        </p>
        <p>
          Along with Pleasure close ally'd,
        </p>
        <p>
          Ever by each other's side.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <p>
      But great as may be our content, we hope to see her Majesty
      speedily restored to the bosom of her family, provided she be
      secure from the perils of her distracted country.
    </p>
    <p>
      There are some allusions to an interesting part of ancient
      story connected with Laleham, Dr. Stukely notices the remains
      of a Roman encampment on Greenfield Common, within the parish
      of Laleham, which he supposes to have been the camp in which
      Caesar halted after passing the Thames.
    </p>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING THE ISLAND OF IONA.
    </h3>
    <p>
      (<i>For the Mirror</i>.)
    </p>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          Wild, sad, and solitary, amid the wave,
        </p>
        <p>
          Iona mourns her pious founder's grave;
        </p>
        <p>
          Still o'er his tomb these fretted columns pay
        </p>
        <p>
          Their crumbling dust, a tribute to his clay.
        </p>
        <p>
          Frail wreck of time! so crippled with the blast,
        </p>
        <p>
          Recorder Of the present and the past,
        </p>
        <p>
          Enough can tell. These Gothic arches show
        </p>
        <p>
          The height of glory and of human woe;
        </p>
        <p>
          Alas, 'tis all which occupies the brain,
        </p>
        <p>
          The lust of power dyes the despot's chain,
        </p>
        <p>
          Here Learning cast her magic beam around
        </p>
        <p>
          Light of fair Science, whence our freedom's found,
        </p>
        <p>
          Resistless spells, attractive power, for long
        </p>
        <p>
          Brought princes here, and Minstrel's sung their song,
        </p>
        <p>
          To pay a tribute to the holy sage
        </p>
        <p>
          Their history told, it formed his faithful page;
        </p>
        <p>
          Historic power Supreme! within this wall
        </p>
        <p>
          Gave Bruce the crown, or Baliol the fall,
        </p>
        <p>
          From proud Edward's grasp in a bark they bore
        </p>
        <p>
          All Scotland's archives to a distant shore,
        </p>
        <p>
          Manned by a hardy and a faithful crew,
        </p>
        <p>
          For Gallia's coast the well skilled pilot drew,
        </p>
        <p>
          But ere the orphan's eyes had lost the sail
        </p>
        <p>
          Portending danger, screeching sea gulls wail,
        </p>
        <p>
          In wild confusion left the angry wave
        </p>
        <p>
          For distant Staffa's high basaltic cave,
        </p>
        <p>
          Big heaved the flood, and loud the billows roar
        </p>
        <p>
          In blackening heaps screened Morvem's distant shore;
        </p>
        <p>
          High blew the winds, and quick the lightning's flash
        </p>
        <p>
          And gilded hailstones fell with many a crash.
        </p>
        <p>
          The story ran from sire to sire.
        </p>
        <p>
          That Heaven itself was filled with living fire;
        </p>
        <p>
          Of them no more is told, no more is known,
        </p>
        <p>
          That widows' tears had scooped this hollow stone.
        </p>
        <p>
          Here all is silent, save the murmuring sound
        </p>
        <p>
          Of crystal spray which bathes this sacred ground,
        </p>
        <p>
          In tuneful sorrow, sheds her friendly tear
        </p>
        <p>
          To learned virtues, long forgotten here.
        </p>
        <p>
          When conscience was the punisher of crime,
        </p>
        <p>
          And blood stained ruffians of Ossian's line
        </p>
        <p>
          Had taught redemption at the tear-worn shrine,
        </p>
        <p>
          And barbarous tribes in thousands flocked around
        </p>
        <p>
          To ask forgiveness on this holy ground.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <h4>
      R.
    </h4>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      LIGHT AND DARK GENII.
    </h3>
    <p>
      (<i>For the Mirror</i>.)
    </p>
    <center>
      LIGHT.
    </center>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          In fields of light, I ride, I ride,
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          Upon the gust-winds back,
        </p>
        <p>
          And, when I mark the eventide,
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          Or gathering of the rack;
        </p>
        <p>
          Like spirit of a pleasant dream,
        </p>
        <p>
          I mount upon a sunset beam,
        </p>
        <p>
          And hie me in a flashing stride,
        </p>
        <p>
          The dark to dash aside,
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <center>
      DARK.
    </center>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          In caverns 'neath the vasty deep,
        </p>
        <p>
          Where sea-snakes in the wreck may creep,
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          And feed upon man's bone;
        </p>
        <p>
          Or in the ruins of the past.
        </p>
        <p>
          Where thoughts that are not used are cast,
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          And whirlwind, and the earthquake groan
        </p>
        <p>
          In pity, there, there, am I&mdash;
        </p>
        <p>
          A withered thought&mdash;that cannot die.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <center>
      LIGHT.
    </center>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          But I was born within a light
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          That kindled in the womb.
        </p>
        <p>
          And I can never feel the night
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          When all around is gloom;
        </p>
        <p>
          For joy looked pleased upon my birth,
        </p>
        <p>
          And cast a ray e'en on the earth;
        </p>
        <p>
          And fairies spun it in a ring,
        </p>
        <p>
          With a feather from their wing,
        </p>
        <p>
          And called it hope&mdash;a charm for tears,
        </p>
        <p>
          And chained it to their silken ears.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <center>
      DARK.
    </center>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          And I was formed within a light
        </p>
        <p>
          That kindled in the womb of night,
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          Of loathsome withered weeds&mdash;
        </p>
        <p>
          And fate looked on and fanned the flame,
        </p>
        <p>
          But freed me from the touch of blame,
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          Of all my evil deeds.
        </p>
        <p>
          Enchantress waited on my birth,
        </p>
        <p>
          And bade the hypochondriac walk the earth.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <center>
      BOTH, RECITATIVE.
    </center>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          Together, together, yet, O yet we dwell,
        </p>
        <p>
          A glimpse of heaven in hell
        </p>
        <p>
          A glimpse of heaven in hell
        </p>
        <p>
          Which plays, which plays, like lightning on the tempest
          gloom,
        </p>
        <p>
          Or life within a catacomb,
        </p>
        <p>
          Or life within a catacomb,
        </p>
        <p>
          Pointing the many passions' mood
        </p>
        <p>
          To strange but universal good.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      DR. JOHNSON.
    </h3>
    <p>
      (<i>To the Editor of the Mirror</i>.)
    </p>
    <p>
      The correspondent who furnished you with the article on "Dr.
      Johnson's Residence in Bolt Court," has fallen into several
      anachronisms, to which, I beg leave to call your attention.
    </p>
    <p>
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page323" name="page323"></a>[pg
      323]</span> He says, "here the unfortunate Savage has held
      his intellectual <i>noctes</i>, and enlivened the <i>old
      moralist</i> with his mad philosophy." If you refer to any
      biographical account of Johnson, you will find, his residence
      in Bolt Court did not commence till nearly twenty years after
      the death of Savage. Johnson had no settled habitation till
      after that event, and they were both frequently obliged to
      perambulate the streets, for whole nights, for want of money
      to pay for a lodging; and instead of Johnson being an old
      moralist at this time, he was but thirty-three when his
      friend died, Savage being about forty-four.
    </p>
    <p>
      Your correspondent has given a graphic description of our
      great lexicographer and his two associates, Savage and
      Boswell, all three of whom, he says, met at Johnson's house
      in Bolt Court, and discussed subjects of polite literature;
      whereas his acquaintance with Boswell began only in 1763, and
      Savage died in Bristol, in 1742. The work Johnson wrote, at
      the time of compiling the Dictionary, was the "Rambler," and
      not the "Guardian," as your correspondent asserts. The latter
      was the joint production of Addison and Steele.
    </p>
    <p>
      The principal events of the Doctor's life are well known; and
      it is interesting and not uninstructive to contemplate this
      master-spirit struggling with the vicissitudes of fortune,
      and depending frequently for his next meal, on the resources
      of his genius, till his merit became known. View him and his
      cotemporary, Garrick, travelling to London together, mere
      adventurers, with many plans in their heads, and very little
      money in their pockets; we see them both rising to the
      pinnacle of fame; one the majestic teacher of moral virtue,
      and the other delighting by the versatility of his histrionic
      powers. Go one step further. They are consigned to the tomb,
      and these men, whom friendship had united whilst living,
      death has not divided. Near Shakspeare's monument, in
      Westminster Abbey, they lie interred side by side. Of Garrick
      it has been said, "that the gaiety of nations was eclipsed at
      his death," and of Johnson we may truly say he has given
      "ardour to virtue and confidence to truth."
    </p>
    <h4>
      HEN. B.
    </h4>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      ON GOOD AND EVIL DAYS.
    </h3>
    <p>
      (<i>For the Mirror</i>.)
    </p>
    <p>
      Notwithstanding the ridicule which in later ages has been
      deservedly thrown on the idea of <i>good and evil days</i>,
      it is certain, that from time immemorial, the most celebrated
      nations of antiquity, the Chaldeans, the Egyptians, the
      Greeks, and the Romans, adopted, and placed implicit faith in
      this superstitious notion, which is still prevalent in all
      parts of the east. According to Plutarch, the kings of Egypt
      never transacted business on the third day of the week, and
      abstained even from food till the evening; because on that
      day, Typhon, who was considered by them the cause of every
      evil, was born. The seventeenth day of the month was also
      deemed unfortunate, as on that day Osiris died. The Greeks,
      too, had their unlucky days, which they denominated
      &alpha;&pi;&omicron;&phi;&rho;&alpha;&sigma;&epsilon;&sigmaf;
      [Greek: apophrases]. The Thursday was generally considered by
      the Athenians of so unlucky an import, that the assemblies of
      the people, which happened to fall on that day, were always
      deferred. Hesiod enumerated the days when it might be proper
      to commence certain undertakings, and those when it was
      necessary to abstain from every employment; among the latter,
      he mentions the fifth of every month, when the Infernal
      Furies were supposed to bestride the earth. Virgil has the
      same idea:&mdash;
    </p>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p class="i2">
          Quintam fuge&mdash;pallidus Orcus
        </p>
        <p>
          Eumenidesque satae: tum partu terra nefando,
        </p>
        <p>
          Coeumque, lapetumque creat, saevumque Typhaea,
        </p>
        <p>
          Et conjuratos coelum rescindere fratres.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <h4>
      1 GEOR. 279.
    </h4>
    <p>
      The Romans also demonstrated in their calendar, the implicit
      faith they placed in this distinction of days. The fortunate
      days were marked in white, and the unfortunate in black; of
      these were the days immediately after the Calendae, the
      Nones, and the Ides; the reason was this: in the 363rd year
      from the building of Rome, the military tribunes, perceiving
      the republic unsuccessful in war, directed that its cause
      should be inquired into. The senate having applied to L.
      Aquinius, he answered, "That when the Romans had fought
      against the Gauls, near the river Allia, and had experienced
      so dreadful a defeat, sacrifices had been offered to the gods
      the day after the ides of July, and that the Fabii having
      fought on the same day at Cremera, were all destroyed." On
      receiving this answer, the senate, by the advice of the
      pontiffs, ordered, that for the future no military enterprise
      should be formed on the days of the calends, the nones, or
      the ides. Vitellius having taken possession of the sovereign
      authority on the 15th of August, and on the same day
      promulgated some new laws, they were ill received by the
      people, because on that day had happened the disastrous
      battles of the Allia and Cremera. There were other days
      esteemed unhappy by the Romans, such as the day
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page324" name="page324"></a>[pg
      324]</span> of sacrifices to the dead; of the Lemuria; and of
      the Saturnalia, the 4th before the nones of October; the 6th
      of the ides of November; the nones of July, called
      Caprotinae; the 4th before the nones of August, on account of
      the defeat at Cannae; and the ides of March, esteemed unlucky
      by the creatures of Caesar.
    </p>
    <p>
      In addition to these, were days which every individual
      considered fortunate or unfortunate for himself. Augustus
      never undertook any thing of importance on the day of the
      nones. Many historical observations have contributed to
      favour these superstitious notions. Josephus remarks, that
      the temple of Solomon was burnt by the Babylonians on the 8th
      of September, and was a second time destroyed on the same day
      by Titus. Emilius Protus also observes, that Timoleon, the
      Corinthian, gained most of his victories on the anniversary
      of his birth. To these facts, drawn from ancient history,
      many from more modern times may be added. It is said, that
      most of the successes of Charles V. occurred on the festival
      of St. Matthew. Henry III. was elected king of Poland, and
      became king of France on Whitsunday, which was also his
      birthday. Pope Sextus V. preferred Wednesday to every other
      in the week, because it was the day of his birth, of his
      promotion to the cardinalate, of his election to the papal
      throne, and of his coronation. Louis XIII. asserted, that
      Friday was always a favourable day to him. Henry VII., of
      England, was partial to Saturday, on which most of the happy
      events of his life had taken place. Oliver Cromwell always
      considered the 3rd of September, 1650, when he defeated the
      Scotch at Dunbar; on that day, in the following year, he
      gained the battle of Worcester, but on the 3rd of September,
      1658, he expired. Though this distinction of good and evil
      days, be in reality as absurd as it appears to be, I much
      doubt if it be yet entirely eradicated. When it is considered
      how many things concur to keep up an error of this kind, and
      that among the great as well as with the vulgar, opinions as
      puerile are not only received, but even made a rule of
      action, it may be inferred, that in every age and in every
      country, however civilized, superstition always maintains its
      influence, though it may occasionally vary in its object or
      name. The human mind alternately wise and weak,
      indiscriminately adopts error and truth.
    </p>
    <p>
      <i>Romford</i>.
    </p>
    <h4>
      H.B.A.
    </h4>
    <hr class="full" />
    <h2>
      THE NOVELIST.
    </h2>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN.
    </h3>
    <p>
      [The <i>Literary Gazette</i> of Saturday last enables us to
      present our readers, (almost entire) the following Legend
      respecting the house and ancestry of the heroine of Sir
      Walter Scott's forthcoming Novel&mdash;<i>Anne of
      Geierstein</i>. The tale is entitled Donnerhugel's Narrative,
      and was told by a remarkable Swiss to the English hero of the
      Romance.]
    </p>
    <p>
      "I told you, (said Rudolf) that the lords of Arnheim, though
      from father to son they were notoriously addicted to secret
      studies, were, nevertheless, like the other German nobles,
      followers of war and the chase. This was peculiarly the case
      with Anne's maternal grandfather, Herman of Arnheim, who
      prided himself on possessing a splendid stud of horses, and
      one steed in particular, the noblest ever known in these
      circles in Germany. I should make wild work were I to attempt
      the description of such an animal, so I will content myself
      with saying his colour was jet black, without a hair of
      white, either on his face or feet. For this reason, and the
      wildness of his disposition, his master had termed him
      Apollyon; a circumstance which was secretly considered as
      tending to sanction the evil reports which touched the house
      of Arnheim, being, it was said, the naming of a favourite
      animal after a foul fiend.
    </p>
    <p>
      "It chanced, one November day, that the baron had been
      hunting in the forest, and did not reach home till
      night-fall. There were no guests with him, for, as I hinted
      to you before, the castle of Arnheim seldom received any
      other than those from whom its inhabitants hoped to gain
      augmentation of knowledge. The baron was seated alone in his
      hall, illuminated with cressets and torches. His one hand
      held a volume covered with characters unintelligible to all
      save himself. The other rested on the marble table, on which
      was placed a flask of Tokay wine. A page stood in respectful
      attendance near the bottom of the large and dim apartment,
      and no sound was heard save that of the night wind, when it
      sighed mournfully through the rusty coats of mail, and waved
      the tattered banners which were the tapestry of the feudal
      hall. At once the footstep of a person was heard ascending
      the stairs in haste and trepidation; the door of the hall was
      thrown violently open, and, terrified to a degree of ecstasy,
      Caspar, the head of the baron's stable, or his master of
      horse, stumbled up almost to the foot of the table at which
      his lord was seated, with the exclamation in his
      mouth&mdash;'My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page325"
      name="page325"></a>[pg 325]</span> lord, my lord, a fiend is
      in the stable!' 'What means this folly?' said the baron,
      arising, surprised and displeased at an interruption so
      unusual. 'Let me endure your displeasure,' said Caspar, 'if I
      speak not truth! Apollyon&mdash;' Here he paused. 'Speak out,
      thou frightened fool,' said the baron; 'is my horse sick, or
      injured?' The master of the stalls again gasped forth the
      word 'Apollyon!' 'Say on,' said the baron; 'were Apollyon in
      presence personally, it were nothing to shake a brave man's
      mind.' 'The devil,' answered the master of the horse, 'is in
      Apollyon's stall!' 'Fool!' exclaimed the nobleman, snatching
      a torch from the wall; 'what is it that could have turned thy
      brain in such silly fashion?'
    </p>
    <p>
      "As he spoke, he crossed the courtyard of the castle, to
      visit the stately range of stables, where fifty gallant
      steeds stood in rows, on each side of the ample hall. At the
      side of each stall hung the weapons of offence and defence of
      a man-at-arms, as bright as constant attention could make
      them, together with the buff-coat which formed the trooper's
      under garment. The baron, followed by one or two of the
      domestics, who had assembled full of astonishment at the
      unusual alarm, hastened up betwixt the rows of steeds. As he
      approached the stall of his favourite horse, which was the
      uppermost of the right-hand row, the good steed neither
      neighed, nor shook his head, nor stamped with his foot, nor
      gave the usual signs of joy at his lord's approach; a faint
      moaning, as if he implored assistance, was the only
      acknowledgment of the baron's presence. Sir Herman held up
      the torch, and discovered that there was indeed a tall, dark
      figure standing in the stall, resting his hand on the horse's
      shoulder. 'Who art thou?' said the baron, 'and what dost thou
      here?' 'I seek refuge and hospitality,' replied the stranger;
      'and I conjure thee to grant it me, by the shoulder of thy
      horse, and by the edge of thy sword, and so as they may never
      fail thee when thy need is at the utmost.' 'Thou art, then, a
      brother of the Sacred Fire,' said Baron Herman of Arnheim;
      'and I may not refuse thee the refuge which thou requirest of
      me, after the ritual of the Persian Magi. From whom, and for
      what length of time, dost thou crave my protection?' 'From
      those,' replied the stranger, 'who shall arrive in quest of
      me before the morning cock shall crow, and for the full space
      of a year and a day from this period.' 'I may not refuse
      thee,' said the baron, 'consistently with my oath and my
      honour. For a year and a day I will be thy pledge, and thou
      shall share with me roof and chamber, wine and food. But
      thou, too, must obey the law of Zoroaster, which, as it says,
      Let the stronger protect the weaker brother, says also, Let
      the wiser instruct the brother who hath less knowledge. I am
      the stronger, and thou shalt be safe under my protection; but
      thou art the wiser, and must instruct me in the more secret
      mysteries.' 'You mock your servant,' said the strange
      visiter; 'but if aught is known to Dannischemend which can
      avail Herman, his instructions shall be as those of a father
      to a son.' 'Come forth, then, from thy place of refuge,' said
      the Baron of Arnheim: 'I swear to thee by the sacred fire
      which lives without terrestrial fuel, and by the fraternity
      which is betwixt us, and by the shoulder of my horse, and the
      edge of my good sword, I will be thy warrand for a year and a
      day, if so far my power shall extend.'
    </p>
    <p>
      "The stranger came forth accordingly; and those who saw the
      singularity of his appearance, scarce wondered at the fears
      of Caspar, the stall-master, when he found such a person in
      the stable, by what mode of entrance he was unable to
      conceive. When he reached the lighted hall to which the baron
      conducted him, as he would have done a welcome and honoured
      guest, the stranger appeared to be very tall, and of a
      dignified aspect. His dress was Asiatic, being a long, black
      caftan, or gown, like that worn by Armenians, and a lofty,
      square cap, covered with the wool of Astracan lambs. Every
      article of the dress was black, which gave relief to the
      long, white beard that flowed down over his bosom. His gown
      was fastened by a sash of black silk net-work, in which,
      instead of a poniard, or sword, was stuck a silver case,
      containing writing materials and a roll of parchment. The
      only ornament of his apparel consisted in a large ruby of
      uncommon brilliancy, which, when he approached the light,
      seemed to glow with such liveliness, as if the gem itself had
      emitted the rays which it only reflected back. To the offer
      of refreshment, the stranger replied, 'Baron, I may not eat,
      water shall not moisten my lips, until the avenger shall have
      passed by the threshold.' The baron commanded the lamps to be
      trimmed and fresh torches to be lighted, and sending his
      whole household to rest, remained sealed in the hall along
      with the stranger, his suppliant. At midnight, the gates of
      the castle were shaken as by a whirlwind, and a voice, as if
      of a herald, was heard to demand his lawful prisoner,
      Dannischemend, the son of Hali. The warder then heard a lower
      window of the hall thrown
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page326" name="page326"></a>[pg
      326]</span> open, and could distinguish his master's voice
      addressing the person who had thus summoned the castle. But
      the night was so dark that he might not see the speakers, and
      the language which they used was either entirely foreign, or
      so largely interspersed with strange words, that he could not
      understand a syllable which they said. Scarce five minutes
      had elapsed, when he who was without, again elevated his
      voice as before, and said in German, 'For a year and a day,
      then, I forbear my forfeiture;&mdash;but coming for it when
      that time shall elapse, I come for my right, and will no
      longer be withstood.'
    </p>
    <p>
      "From that period Dannischemend, the Persian, was a constant
      guest at the castle of Arnheim, and, indeed, never for any
      purpose crossed the drawbridge. His amusements, or studies,
      seemed centred in the library of the castle, and in the
      laboratory, where the baron sometimes toiled in conjunction
      with him for many hours together. The inhabitants of the
      castle could find no fault in the Magus, or Persian,
      excepting his apparently dispensing with the ordinances of
      religion, since he neither went to mass nor confession, nor
      attended upon other religious ceremonies. It was observed
      that Dannischemend was rigid in paying his devotions, by
      prostrating himself in the first rays of the rising sun, and
      that he constructed a silver lamp of the most beautiful
      proportions, which he placed on a pedestal representing a
      truncated column of marble, having its base sculptured with
      hieroglyphical imagery. With what essences he fed this flame
      was unknown to all, unless perhaps to the baron; but the
      flame was more steady, pure, and lustrous, than any which was
      ever seen, excepting the sun of heaven itself, and it was
      generally believed that Dannischemend made it an object of
      worship in the absence of that blessed luminary. Nothing else
      was observed of him, unless that his morals seemed severe,
      his gravity extreme, his general mode of life very temperate,
      and his fasts and vigils of frequent recurrence. Except on
      particular occasions, he spoke to no one of the castle but
      the baron.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Winter was succeeded by spring, summer brought her flowers,
      and autumn her fruits, which ripened and were fading, when a
      foot-page, who sometimes attended them in the laboratory to
      render manual assistance when required, heard the Persian say
      to the Baron of Arnheim, 'You will do well, my son, to mark
      my words; for my lessons to you are drawing to an end, and
      there is no power on earth which can longer postpone my
      fate.' 'Alas, my master!' said the baron, 'and must I then
      lose the benefit of your direction, just when your guiding
      hand becomes necessary to place me on the very pinnacle of
      the temple of wisdom?' 'Be not discouraged, my son,' answered
      the sage; 'I will bequeath the task of perfecting you in your
      studies to my daughter, who will come hither on purpose. But
      remember, if you value the permanence of your family, look
      not upon her as aught else than a helpmate in your studies;
      for if you forget the instructress in the beauty of the
      maiden, you will be buried with your sword and your shield,
      as the last male of your house; and farther evil, believe me,
      will arise; for such alliances never come to a happy issue,
      of which my own is an example.&mdash;But, hush, we are
      observed.' The household of the castle of Arnheim having but
      few things to interest them, were the more eager observers of
      those which came under their notice; and when the termination
      of the period when the Persian was to receive shelter in the
      castle began to approach, some of the inmates, under various
      pretexts, but which resolved into every terror,
      absconded,&mdash;while others held themselves in expectation
      of some striking and terrible catastrophe. None such,
      however, took place; and, on the expected anniversary, long
      ere the witching hour of midnight, Dannischemend terminated
      his visit in the castle of Arnheim, by riding away from the
      gate in the guise of an ordinary traveller.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The baron had meantime taken leave of his tutor with many
      marks of regret, and some which amounted even to sorrow. The
      sage Persian comforted him by a long whisper, of which the
      last part only was heard, 'By the first beam of sunshine she
      will be with you. Be kind to her, but not over kind.' He then
      departed, and was never again seen or heard of in the
      vicinity of Arnheim. The baron was observed during all the
      day after the departure of the stranger to be particularly
      melancholy. At dawn of the ensuing morning, Sir Herman
      summoned his page; and having performed his toilet, he waited
      till the sun had just appeared above the horizon, and, taking
      from the table the key of the laboratory, which the page
      believed must have lain there all night, he walked thither,
      followed by his attendant. At the door the baron made a
      pause, and seemed at one time to doubt whether he should not
      send away the page, at another to hesitate whether he should
      open the door, as one might do who expected some strange
      sight within. He pulled up resolution, however, turned the
      key, threw the door open, and entered. The page followed
      close behind his <span class="pagenum"><a id="page327"
      name="page327"></a>[pg 327]</span> master, and was astonished
      to the point of extreme terror at what he beheld, although
      the sight, however extraordinary, had in it nothing save what
      was agreeable and lovely. The silver lamp was extinguished,
      or removed from its pedestal, where stood in place of it a
      most beautiful female figure in the Persian costume, in which
      the colour of pink predominated. But she wore no turban, or
      head-dress of any kind, saving a blue riband drawn through
      her auburn hair and secured by a gold clasp, the outer side
      of which was ornamented by a superb opal, which, amid the
      changing lights peculiar to that gem, displayed a slight
      tinge of red, like a spark of fire. The figure of this young
      person was rather under the middle size, but perfectly well
      formed; the eastern dress, with the wide trousers gathered
      round the ankles, made visible the smallest and most
      beautiful feet which had ever been seen, while hands and arms
      of the most perfect symmetry were partly seen from under the
      folds of the robe. The little lady's countenance was of a
      lively and expressive character, in which spirit and wit
      seemed to predominate; and the quick, dark eye, with its
      beautifully formed eyebrow, seemed to presage the arch
      remark, to which the rosy and half-smiling lip appeared ready
      to give utterance. The pedestal on which she stood, or rather
      was perched, would have appeared unsafe had any figure
      heavier than her own been placed there. But, however she had
      been transported thither, she seemed to rest on it as lightly
      and safely as a linnet, when it has dropped from the sky on
      the tendril of a rose-bud. The first beam of the rising sun,
      falling through a window directly opposite to the pedestal,
      increased the effect of this beautiful figure, which remained
      as motionless as if it had been carved in marble. She only
      expressed her sense of the Baron of Arnheim's presence by
      something of a quicker respiration, and a deep blush,
      accompanied by a slight smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Baron of Arnheim, for an instant, stood without breath
      or motion. At once, however, he seemed to recollect that it
      was his duty to welcome the fair stranger to his castle, and
      to relieve her from her precarious situation. He stepped
      forward accordingly with the words of welcome on his tongue,
      and was extending his arms to lift her from the pedestal,
      which was nearly six feet high; but the light and active
      stranger merely accepted the support of his hand, and
      descended on the floor as light and as safe as if she had
      been formed of gossamer. It was, indeed, only by the
      momentary pressure of her little hand, that the Baron of
      Arnheim was made sensible that he had to do with a being of
      flesh and blood. 'I am come as I have been commanded,' she
      said, looking around her: 'you must expect a strict and
      diligent mistress, and I hope for the credit of an attentive
      pupil.' After the arrival of this singular and interesting
      being in the castle of Arnheim, various alterations took
      place within the interior of the household. A lady of high
      rank and small fortune, the respectable widow of a count of
      the empire, who was the baron's blood relation, received and
      accepted an invitation to preside over her kinsman's domestic
      affairs, and remove, by her countenance, any suspicions which
      might arise from the presence of Hermione, as the beautiful
      Persian was generally called. The countess Waldstetten
      carried her complaisance so far, as to be present on almost
      all occasions, whether in the laboratory or library, when the
      Baron of Arnheim received lessons from, or pursued studies
      with, the young and lovely tutor, who had been thus strangely
      substituted for the aged Magus. If this lady's report was to
      be trusted, their pursuits were of a most extraordinary
      nature, and the results which she sometimes witnessed were
      such as to create fear as well as surprise. But she
      accordingly vindicated them from practising unlawful arts, or
      overstepping the boundaries of natural science. A better
      judge of such matters, the Bishop of Bamberg himself, made a
      visit to Arnheim, on purpose to witness the wisdom of which
      so much was reported through the whole Rhine country. He
      conversed with Hermione, and found her deeply impressed with
      the truths of religion, and so perfectly acquainted with its
      doctrines, that he compared her to a doctor of theology in
      the dress of an Eastern dancing-girl. When asked regarding
      her knowledge of languages and science, he answered that he
      had been attracted to Arnheim by the most extravagant reports
      on these points, but that he must return confessing 'the half
      thereof had not been told unto him.'
    </p>
    <p>
      "Meantime a marked alteration began to take place in the
      interviews between the lovely tutor and her pupil. These were
      conducted with the same caution as before, and never, so far
      as could be observed, took place without the presence of the
      countess of Waldstetten, or some other third person of
      respectability. But the scenes of these meetings were no
      longer the scholar's library, or the chemist's
      laboratory;&mdash;the gardens, the groves, were resorted to
      for amusement, and parties of hunting and fishing, with
      evenings spent in the dance, seemed to announce
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page328" name="page328"></a>[pg
      328]</span> that the studies of wisdom were for a time
      abandoned for the pursuits of pleasure. It was not difficult
      to guess the meaning of this; the Baron of Arnheim and his
      fair guest, speaking a language different from all others,
      could enjoy their private conversation, even amid all the
      tumult of gaiety around them; and no one was surprised to
      hear it formally announced, after a few weeks of gaiety, that
      the fair Persian was to be wedded to the Baron of Arnheim.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The manners of this fascinating young person were so
      pleasing, her conversation so animated, her wit so keen, yet
      so well tempered with good nature and modesty, that,
      notwithstanding her unknown origin, her high fortune
      attracted less envy than might have been expected in a case
      so singular. Above all, her generosity amazed and won the
      hearts of all the young persons who approached her. These
      good qualities, her liberality above all, together with a
      simplicity of thought and character, which formed a beautiful
      contrast to the depth of acquired knowledge which she was
      well-known to possess,&mdash;these, and her total want of
      ostentation, made her superiority be pardoned among her
      companions. Still there was notice taken of some
      peculiarities, exaggerated perhaps by envy, which seemed to
      draw a mystical distinction between the beautiful Hermione
      and the mere mortals with whom she lived and conversed. In
      the merry dance she was so unrivalled in lightness and
      agility, that her performance seemed that of an aerial being.
      She could, without suffering from her exertion, continue the
      pleasure till she had tired out the most active revellers;
      and even the young Duke of Hochspringen, who was reckoned the
      most indefatigable at that exercise in Germany, having been
      her partner for half an hour, was compelled to break off the
      dance and throw himself, totally exhausted, on a couch,
      exclaiming he had been dancing not with a woman, but with an
      <i>ignis fatuus</i>. Other whispers averred, that while she
      played with her young companions in the labyrinth and mazes
      of the castle gardens at hide-and-seek, or similar games of
      activity, she became animated with the same supernatural
      alertness which was supposed to inspire her in the dance. She
      appeared amongst her companions, and vanished from them with
      a degree of rapidity which was inconceivable; and hedges,
      treillage, or such like obstructions, were surmounted by her
      in a manner which the most vigilant eye could not detect;
      for, after being observed on the other side of the barrier at
      one instant, in another she was beheld close beside the
      spectator. In such moments, when her eyes sparkled, her
      cheeks reddened, and her whole frame became animated, it was
      pretended that the opal clasp amid her tresses, the ornament
      which she never laid aside, shot forth the little spark, or
      tongue of flame, which it always displayed, with an increased
      vivacity. In the same manner, if in the twilight hall the
      conversation of Hermione became unusually animated, it was
      believed that the jewel became brilliant, and even displayed
      a twinkling and flashing gleam which seemed to be emitted by
      the gem itself, and not produced in the usual manner, by the
      reflection of some external light. Her maidens were also
      heard to surmise, that when their mistress was agitated by
      any hasty or brief resentment (the only weakness of temper
      which she was ever observed to display,) they could observe
      dark-red sparks flash from the mystic brooch, as if it
      sympathized with the wearer's emotions. The women who
      attended on her toilette farther reported, that this gem was
      never removed but for a few minutes, when the baroness' hair
      was combed out; that she was unusually pensive and silent
      during the time it was laid aside, and particularly
      apprehensive when any liquid was brought near it. Even in the
      use of holy water at the door of the church, she was observed
      to omit the sign of the cross on the forehead, for fear, it
      was supposed, of the water touching the valued jewel.
    </p>
    <p>
      "These singular reports did not prevent the marriage of the
      Baron of Arnheim from proceeding as had been arranged. In the
      course of twelve months the lovely baroness presented her
      husband with a daughter, which was to be christened Sibylla,
      after the count's mother. As the health of the child was
      excellent, the ceremony was postponed till the recovery of
      the mother from her confinement; many were invited to be
      present on the occasion, and the castle was thronged with
      company. It happened that amongst the guests was an old lady,
      notorious for playing in private society the part of a
      malicious fairy in a minstrel's tale. This was the Baroness
      of Steinfeldt, famous in the neighbourhood for her insatiable
      curiosity and overweening pride. She had not been many days
      in the castle, ere, by the aid of a female attendant, who
      acted as an intelligencer, she had made herself mistress of
      all that was heard, said, or suspected, concerning the
      peculiarities of the Baroness Hermione. It was on the morning
      of the day appointed for the christening, while the whole
      company were assembled in the
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page329" name="page329"></a>[pg
      329]</span> hall, and waiting till the baroness should
      appear, to pass with them to the chapel, that there arose
      between the censorious and haughty dame whom we have just
      mentioned, and the Countess Waldstettin, a violent discussion
      concerning some point of disputed precedence. It was referred
      to the Baron von Arnheim, who decided in favour of the
      countess. Madame de Steinfeldt instantly ordered her palfrey
      to be prepared, and her attendants to mount. 'I leave this
      place,' said she, 'which a good Christian ought never to have
      entered; I leave a house of which the master is a sorcerer,
      the mistress a demon who dares not cross her brow with holy
      water, and their trencher companion one who for a wretched
      pittance is willing to act as match-maker between a wizard
      and an incarnate fiend!' She then departed, with rage in her
      countenance, and spite in her heart. The Baron of Arnheim
      then stepped forward, and demanded of the knights and
      gentlemen around, if there were any among them who would dare
      to make good with his sword the infamous falsehoods thrown
      upon himself, his spouse, and his kinswoman. There was a
      general answer, utterly refusing to defend the Baroness of
      Steinfeldt's words in so bad a cause, and universally
      testifying the belief of the company that she spoke in the
      spirit of calumny and falsehood. 'Then let that lie fall to
      the ground which no man of courage will hold up,' said the
      Baron of Arnheim; 'only, all who are here this morning shall
      be satisfied whether the Baroness Hermione doth or doth not
      share the rites of Christianity.' The Countess of Waldstetten
      made anxious signs to him while he spoke thus; and when the
      crowd permitted her to approach near him, she was heard to
      whisper,&mdash;'O, be not rash! try no experiment! there is
      something mysterious about that opal talisman; be prudent,
      and let the matter pass by.' The baron, who was in a more
      towering passion than well became the wisdom to which he made
      pretence, said, 'Are you, too, such a fool?' and retained his
      purpose.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Baroness of Arnheim at this moment entered the hall,
      looking just so pale from her late confinement as to render
      her lovely countenance more interesting, if less animated,
      than usual. Having paid her compliments to the assembled
      company, she was beginning to inquire why Madame de
      Steinfeldt was not present, when her husband made the signal
      for the company to move forward to the chapel, and lent the
      baroness his arm to bring up the rear. The chapel was nearly
      filled by the splendid company, and all eyes were bent on
      their host and hostess as they entered the place of devotion
      immediately after four young ladies, who supported the infant
      babe in a light and beautiful litter. As they passed the
      threshold, the baron dipt his finger in the font-stone and
      offered holy-water to his lady, who accepted it, as usual, by
      touching his finger with her own. But then, as if to confute
      the calumnies of the malevolent lady of Steinfeldt, with an
      air of sportive familiarity which was rather unwarranted by
      the time and place, he flirted on her beautiful forehead a
      drop or two of the moisture which remained on his own hand.
      The opal, on which one of these drops had lighted, shot out a
      brilliant spark like a falling star, and became the instant
      afterwards lightless and colourless as a common pebble, while
      the beautiful baroness sunk on the floor of the chapel with a
      deep sigh of pain. All crowded around her in dismay. The
      unfortunate Hermione was raised from the ground and conveyed
      to her chamber; and so much did her countenance and pulse
      alter within the short time necessary to do this, that those
      who looked upon her pronounced her a dying woman. She was no
      sooner in her own apartment than she requested to be left
      alone with her husband. He remained an hour in the room, and
      when he came out he locked and double locked the door behind
      him. He then betook himself to the chapel, and remained there
      for an hour or more, prostrated before the altar. In the
      meantime most of the guests had dispersed in dismay; though
      some abode out of courtesy or curiosity. There was a general
      sense of impropriety in suffering the door of the sick lady's
      apartment to remain locked; but, alarmed at the whole
      circumstances of her illness, it was some time ere any one
      dared disturb the devotions of the baron. At length medical
      aid arrived, and the Countess of Waldstetten took upon her to
      demand the key. She spoke more than once to a man who seemed
      incapable of hearing, at least of understanding, what she
      said. At length he gave her the key, and added sternly, as he
      did so, that all aid was unavailing, and that it was his
      pleasure that all strangers should leave the castle. There
      were few who were inclined to stay; when upon opening the
      door of the chamber in which the baroness had been deposited
      little more than two hours before, no traces of her could be
      discovered, unless that there was about a handful of light
      grey ashes, like such as might have been produced by burning
      fine paper, found on the bed where she had been laid. A
      solemn <span class="pagenum"><a id="page330"
      name="page330"></a>[pg 330]</span> funeral was nevertheless
      performed, with masses and all other spiritual rites, for the
      soul of the high and noble Lady Hermione of Arnheim; and it
      was exactly on that same day three years that the baron
      himself was laid in the grave of the same chapel of Arnheim,
      with sword, shield, and helmet, as the last male of his
      family."
    </p>
    <hr class="full" />
    <h2>
      THE TOPOGRAPHER.
    </h2>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      SAWSTON HALL.<a id="footnotetag1"
      name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a>
    </h3>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          Huge halls, long galleries, spacious chambers join'd
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          By no quite lawful marriage of the arts,
        </p>
        <p>
          Might shock a connoisseur; but when combin'd
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          Form'd a whole, which, irregular in parts,
        </p>
        <p>
          Yet left a grand impression on the mind
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          At least, of those whose eyes are in their hearts.
        </p>
        <p>
          We gaze upon a giant for his stature,
        </p>
        <p class="i2">
          Nor judge at first, if all be true to nature.
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <h4>
      BYRON.
    </h4>
    <p>
      Quoting from the same poem, we may truly say of Sawston Hall,
      Cambridgeshire&mdash;"The mansion's self is vast and
      venerable,"&mdash;for it is one of the most pleasing
      architectural relics of the "elder time," which at present
      exists in England. The house, a large, old, substantial
      mansion, built partly, as says the tradition, from the walls
      of Cambridge Castle, has been the property of the Roman
      Catholic family of Huddleston, for some centuries; and
      assuming its present appearance early in the reign of Queen
      Mary, has, with only the trifling alterations incidental to
      necessary repairs, retained it; for the Huddlestons,
      inhabiting Sawston Hall, and residing there in each
      generation, highly respected as country gentlemen, either
      from the extravagance of some of the family, or from a taste
      for old associations, have been prevented from altering it.
      As the manor house, it stands near the church; the baronial
      chiefs who were always lords of the manor, frequently
      building, if seldom patronizing, their village churches.
    </p>
    <p>
      The mansion is a large, square building, situated in a
      garden, wherein may be observed the remains of <i>aggera</i>,
      a moat, terrace, &amp;c.; a river so shallow that it might be
      easily forded, flows at the back of the house, and serves as
      one boundary to this garden. In the very small inner court,
      stands a tower, enclosing a spiral staircase, which leads to
      the top of the house; the whole length of the southern front
      of it is occupied by a gallery, and the dormitories upon this
      floor, which communicate with each other, are hung with old
      tapestry. The principal entrance is through a porch and door,
      which opens immediately into the baronial hall, a curious
      place certainly, but slightly differing in arrangement and
      appearance from what we had previously seen at Arundel
      Castle, Haddon Hall, and several colleges. The oriel window,
      instead of its usual place at the upper end of the hall, was
      situated on one side, very near the corner; in the recess
      formed by it, stood the baron's table, not as we had
      anticipated upon a dais, but at least so veiled from the
      vulgar gaze of the retainers who feasted at a separate board
      in the apartment, that it answered the purpose of
      distinguishing ranks equally well. The hall is paved with red
      brick, and has a large, open fire-place, intimating well the
      hospitable spirit of former days; its panels, curiously
      carved, are painted white and brown; the latter in imitation
      of walnut wood, is probably a mere coating of paint drawn
      over the original panels of that material, to ensure their
      preservation. Here too are the arms of the family emblazoned,
      in which may be observed the lion of Britain and Fleur-de-lis
      of France, the Huddlestons being descended from, or united
      to, the royal line of each nation.
    </p>
    <p>
      There is, near the hall, an ancient refectory, or
      dining-room, shut up, and in so dangerous a state as to
      require to be filled with props to support its ceiling. The
      grand staircase, which is of oak, and coeval with the
      building, leads to the gallery, in which are situated the
      principal sleeping-rooms, distinguished as the green, blue,
      red chambers, &amp;c., according to the predominant colours
      of the ancient and faded tapestry with which they are hung;
      nor would the old manor-house deserve the name of such, was
      there not in one of these a concealed door behind the arras,
      and in another, the report at least of a ghost. A narrow
      door, near the end of the gallery, opens immediately upon an
      old and narrow staircase, the ascent to that chapel in the
      very roof of the building, which at the period of the
      Reformation, was contrived and fitted up for the secret
      advantage of the Roman Catholic proprietors of Sawston; this
      chamber, for it is nothing more, is certainly little
      calculated to impress the mind of the spectator with an idea
      of the splendour of Catholic worship; we approached it by a
      narrow decaying staircase, stepped over bare rafters, and
      were scarcely able to pilot ourselves securely by the faint
      glimmerings of day-light, streaming through the chinks in the
      tiling overhead. Upon <span class="pagenum"><a id="page331"
      name="page331"></a>[pg 331]</span> the opening of the chapel
      door, however, a full tide of light greeted us, admitted by a
      dormer window, and this displayed an apartment, known by its
      altar and benches to be appropriated to sacred purposes, the
      sole decorations of whose plain white-washed walls were some
      few engravings of madonnas, saints, and holy families,
      &amp;c., chiefly French, and not particularly beautiful or
      valuable.
    </p>
    <p>
      On returning from the chapel we were shown an ingenious
      hiding-place for the priest in troublous times: a cell
      covered by a trap-door in the staircase, and just large
      enough to contain one person, a small table, and a stool;
      whilst a loop-hole in the wall admitted an apology for light
      and air. Of heir-looms, there are at Sawston Hall, plenty of
      curious old pictures and engravings, books, missals, a real
      relic of chivalry, (light, well-poised, and made of the true
      lance-wood,) a tilting lance; Queen Mary's bed, and her
      pincushion; and a singular glass water-jug, made in the reign
      of Queen Anne, which, when the present proprietor of Sawston
      took possession of his inheritance, had been laid up for
      seventy years; it is now, we believe, off the superannuated
      list, and sees daily service. We have only space briefly to
      allude to the tradition, which, sketched at length in the
      valuable periodical to which we have referred our readers,
      induced us to supply the present illustrative account. The
      Princess Mary fleeing from the persecutions of the heads of
      the Protestant party, was entertained and lodged for a night
      by Sir John Huddleston, of Sawston. The hall was in
      consequence besieged by an immense mob from Cambridge, fired,
      and nearly destroyed; Mary and her host with difficulty
      escaped, (she disguised as a market-woman,) and as queen, she
      rebuilt Sawston with the stones of Cambridge Castle.
    </p>
    <h4>
      M.L.B.
    </h4>
    <hr class="full" />
    <h2>
      MANNERS &amp; CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.
    </h2>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      CHINESE CITIES.
    </h3>
    <p>
      (<i>For the Mirror</i>.)
    </p>
    <p>
      The cities of China are generally of a square form,
      surrounded with lofty walls, having projecting towers at
      regular intervals, and are usually encompassed by a ditch,
      either dry or full of water. Distributed through the streets
      and squares, or situated in the vicinity of the principal
      gates, are round, hexagonal or octagonal towers, of various
      heights, triumphal arches, beautiful temples dedicated to
      idols, and monuments erected in honour of those who have
      rendered important services to the nation, or the people; and
      lastly some public buildings more remarkable for extent than
      magnificence.
    </p>
    <p>
      The squares are large, the streets long and of different
      breadths, the houses have, for the most part, but a ground
      floor, and rarely exceed one story. The shops are varnished,
      and ornamented with silk and porcelain. Before each door is
      fixed a painted and gilded board, seven or eight feet high,
      supported on a pedestal, and having inscribed on it three
      large characters chosen by the merchant for the sign of his
      shop, to distinguish it from all others. To these are often
      added a list of the articles to be disposed of, and the name
      of the seller. Under all, conspicuous for their size, are the
      characters <i>"Pou-Hou,"</i> (no cheating here.)
    </p>
    <h4>
      G.L.S.
    </h4>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      FIGS
    </h3>
    <p>
      (<i>For the Mirror</i>.)
    </p>
    <p>
      Figs have, from the earliest times, been reckoned among the
      delights of the palate. Shaphan the scribe, who made for the
      use of the young king Josiah, that compendium of the law of
      Moses, which is called Deuteronomy, enumerates among the
      praises of his country, that it was a land of figs.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Athenians valued figs at least as highly as the Jews.
      Alexis called figs a "a food for the gods." Pausanias says,
      that the Athenian Phytalus was rewarded by Ceres, for his
      hospitality, with the gift of the first fig tree. Some
      foreign guest, no doubt, transmitted to him the plant, which
      he introduced into Attica. It succeeded so well there, that
      Uthanaeus brings forward Lynceus and Antiphones, vaunting the
      figs of Attica as the best on earth. Horapollo, or rather his
      commentator Bolzani, says, that when the master of the house
      is going a journey, he hangs out a broom of fig boughs for
      good luck. Our forefathers preferred a broom of birch; as if,
      in the master's absence, it was well to remember the rod.
    </p>
    <p>
      A taste for figs marked the progress of refinement in the
      Roman empire. In Cato's time, but six sorts of figs were
      known; in Pliny's, twenty-nine. The sexual system of plants,
      seems first to have been observed in the fig tree; whose
      artificial impregnation is taught by Pliny, under the name of
      caprification.
    </p>
    <p>
      In modern times, the esteem for figs has been still more
      widely diffused.
    </p>
    <p>
      When Charles the Fifth visited Holland, in 1540, a Dutch
      merchant sent him a plate of figs, as the greatest delicacy
      which Ziriksee could offer.
    </p>
    <h4>
      H.B.A.
    </h4>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page332" name="page332"></a>[pg
      332]</span>
    </p>
    <h3>
      ALNWICK FREEMEN.
    </h3>
    <p>
      Alnwick, in Northumberland, is remarkable for the peculiar
      manner of making freemen. Those to be made free, or as the
      saying is, <i>to leap well</i>, assemble in the market place
      early on St. Mark's day on horseback, with every man a sword
      by his side, dressed in white, all with white night caps,
      attended by four chamberlains mounted and armed in the same
      manner. Hence they proceed with music to a large, dirty pool,
      called <i>Freeman's Well</i>, where they dismount, and draw
      up in a body, and then rush through the mud as fast as they
      can. As the water is generally very foul, they come out in a
      dirty condition; but after taking a dram, they put on dry
      clothes, remount their horses, and ride full gallop round the
      confines of the town, when they return, sword in hand, and
      are met by women decorated with ribands, bells, &amp;c.
      ringing and dancing. These are called <i>timber vasts</i>.
      The houses of the new freemen are, on this day, distinguished
      by a holly bush, as a signal for their friends to assemble
      and make merry.
    </p>
    <p>
      This ridiculous ceremony is attributed to King John, who
      being mired in the well, as a punishment for not mending the
      road, made the above custom a part of the charter of the
      town.
    </p>
    <h4>
      H.B.A.
    </h4>
    <hr class="full" />
    <h2>
      THE ANECDOTE GALLERY.
    </h2>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      DOCTOR PARR.
    </h3>
    <p>
      How many a fine mind has been lost to mankind by the want of
      some propitious accident, to lead it to a proper channel; to
      prevent its current from "turning awry and losing the name of
      action!" We know not whether the story of Newton's apple be
      true, but it may serve for an illustration, and if that apple
      had not fallen, where would have been his Principia? If the
      Lady Egerton had not missed her way in a wood, Milton might
      have spent the time in which he wrote "Comus," in writing
      "Accidence of Grammar;" and if Ellwood, the quaker, had not
      asked him what he could say on "Paradise Regained," that
      beautiful poem (so greatly underrated) would have been lost
      to us.
    </p>
    <p>
      Samuel Parr was born at Harrow-on-the-Hill, June 15 (o.s.)
      1747. He was the son of Samuel Parr, a surgeon and apothecary
      of that place, and through him immediately descended from
      several considerable scholars, and remotely (as one of his
      biographers, Mr. Field, asserts) from Sir W. Parr, who lived
      in the reign of Edward IV., and whose granddaughter was Queen
      Catharine Parr, of famous memory. It does not appear from
      Parr's writings (as far as we remember) that he laid claim to
      this high ancestry; yet the name of Catharine, which he gave
      to one of his daughters, may be imagined to imply as much.
      His mother, whose maiden name was Mignard, was of the family
      of the celebrated painter. It was the accident of Parr's
      birthplace that, probably, laid the foundation of his fame,
      for to the school of his native village, then one of the most
      flourishing in England, he was sent in his sixth year;
      whilst, under other circumstances, it is likely that he would
      have been condemned to an ordinary education and his father's
      business. So many seeds is Nature constantly and secretly
      scattering, in order that one may fall upon a spot that shall
      foster it into a a plant. In his boyhood, he is described by
      his sister, Mrs. Bowyear, as studious after his kind,
      delighting in Mother Goose and the Seven Champions, and not
      partaking much in the sports usual to such an age. He had a
      very early inclination for the church, and the elements of
      that taste for ecclesiastical pomp, which distinguished him
      in after life, appeared when he was not more than nine or ten
      years old. He would put on one of his father's shirts for a
      surplice, (till Mr. Sanders, the vicar, supplied him, as
      Hannah did his namesake, with a little gown and cassock;) he
      would then read the church service to his sister and cousins,
      after they had been duly summoned by a bell tied to the
      banisters; preach them a sermon, which his congregation was
      apt to think, in those days, somewhat of the longest; and
      even, in spite of his father's remonstrances, would bury a
      bird or a kitten (Parr had always a great fondness for
      animals) with the rites of Christian burial. Samuel was his
      mother's darling; she indulged all his whims, consulted his
      appetite, and provided hot suppers for him almost from his
      cradle. He was her only son, and was at this time very fair
      and well-favoured. Providence, however, foreseeing that at
      all events vanity was to be a large ingredient in Parr's
      composition, sent him, in its mercy, a fit of small-pox; and,
      with the same intent, perhaps, deprived him of a parent, who
      was killing her son's character by kindness. Parr never was a
      boy, says, somewhere, his friend and school-fellow, Dr.
      Bennet. When he was about nine years old, Dr. Allen saw him
      sitting on the churchyard gate at Harrow, with great gravity,
      whilst his school-fellows were all at play. "Sam. why don't
      you play with the others?" cried Allen. "Do not you
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page333" name="page333"></a>[pg
      333]</span> know, sir," said he, with vast solemnity, "that I
      am to be a parson?" And Parr himself used to tell of Sir W.
      Jones, another of his school-fellows, that as they were one
      day walking together near Harrow, Jones suddenly stopped
      short, and, looking hard at him, cried out, "Parr, if you
      should have the good luck to live forty years, you may stand
      a chance of overtaking your face." Between Bennet, Parr, and
      Jones, the closest intimacy was formed; and though
      occasionally tried, it continued to the last. Sir W. Jones,
      indeed, was soon carried, by the tide of events, far away
      from the other two, and Dr. Bennet quickly shot a-head of
      poor Parr in the race of life, and rose to the Irish bench.
    </p>
    <p>
      These three challenged one another to trials of skill in the
      imitation of popular authors&mdash;they wrote and acted a
      play together&mdash;they got up mock councils, and harangues,
      and combats, after the manner of the classical heroes of
      antiquity, and under their names&mdash;till, at the age of
      fourteen, Parr being now at the head of the school, was
      removed from it and placed in his father's shop.
    </p>
    <p>
      The doctor must have found in the course of his practice,
      that there are some pills which will not go down&mdash;and
      this was one. Parr began to criticize the Latin of his
      father's prescriptions, instead of "making the mixture;" and
      was not prepared for that kind of Greek with which old
      Fuller's doctor was imbued, who, on being asked why it was
      called a <i>Hectic</i> fever, "Because," saith he, "of an
      <i>hecking</i> cough which ever attendeth that disease."
      Accordingly, Parr having in vain tried to reconcile himself
      to the "uttering of mortal drugs" for three years, was at
      length suffered to follow his own devices, and in 1765, was
      admitted of Emmanuel College, Cambridge. Dr. Farmer was at
      that time tutor. Of this proficient in black letter (he was
      one of the earliest, and perhaps <i>the</i> cleverest, of his
      tribe) we are told by Archdeacon Butler, in a note, that he
      was a man of such singular indolence, as to neglect sending
      in the young men's accounts, and is supposed to have burnt
      large sums of money, by putting into the fire unopened
      letters, which contained remittances, conveyed remonstrances,
      and required answers.
    </p>
    <p>
      At college Parr remained about fourteen months, when his
      resources were cut off by the sudden death of his father. On
      balancing his accounts, three pounds seventeen shillings
      appeared to be all his worldly wealth; and it has been
      asserted by one of the many persons who have contributed
      their quota to the memorabilia of Parr, that had he been
      aware beforehand of possessing so considerable a sum, he
      would have continued longer in an university which he quitted
      with a heavy heart, and which he was ever proud to
      acknowledge as his literary nursing-mother. It is melancholy
      to reflect on the numbers of young men who squander the
      opportunities afforded them at Cambridge, and Oxford, without
      a thought; "casting the pearl away, like the Aethiop," while,
      at the very moment, many are the sons of genius and poverty,
      who, with Parr, are struggling in vain to hold fast their
      chance of the learning, and the rewards of learning, to be
      gained there, and which would be to them instead of house and
      land. Thus were Parr's hopes again nipped in the bud, and
      those years, (the most valuable of all, perhaps, for the
      formation of character,) the latter years of school and
      college life, were to him a blank. Meanwhile Dr. Sumner, then
      master of Harrow, offered him the situation of his first
      assistant. With this Parr closed; he took deacon's orders in
      1769; and five years passed away, as usefully and happily
      spent as any which he lived to see. It was while he was
      under-master of Harrow that he lost his cousin, Frank Parr,
      then a recently elected Fellow of King's College. Parr loved
      him as a brother; and, though himself receiving a salary of
      only fifty pounds a year, and, as he says, and as may be well
      believed, "then very poor," he cheerfully undertook for
      Frank, by way of making his death-bed more comfortable, the
      payment of all his Cambridge debts, which proved to be two
      hundred and twenty-three pounds; a promise which, it is
      needless to say, he faithfully kept, besides settling an
      annuity of five pounds upon his mother.
    </p>
    <p>
      In 1771, when Parr was in his twenty-fifth year, Dr. Sumner
      was suddenly carried off by apoplexy. Parr now became a
      candidate for the head mastership of Harrow, founding his
      claims on being born in the town, educated at the school, and
      for some years one of the assistants. The governors, however,
      preferred Dr. Benjamin Heath, an antagonist by whom it was no
      disgrace to be beaten, and whose personal merit Parr himself
      allowed to justify their choice. A rebellion among the boys,
      many of whom took Parr's part, ensued; and in an evil hour he
      threw up his situation of assistant, and withdrew to
      Stanmore, a village a very few miles from Harrow. Here he was
      followed by forty of the young rebels, and with this stock in
      trade he proceeded to set up a school on his own account.
      This, Dr. Johnstone thinks, was the crisis
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page334" name="page334"></a>[pg
      334]</span> of Parr's life. The die had turned up against
      him, and the disappointment, with its immediate consequences,
      gave a complexion to his future fortunes, character, and
      comfort. He had already mounted a full-bottomed wig when he
      stood for Harrow, anxious, as it should seem, to give his
      face a still further chance of keeping its start. He now
      began to ride on a black saddle, and bore in his hand a long
      wand with an ivory head, like a crosier in high prelatical
      pomp. His neighbours, who wondered what it could all mean,
      had scarcely time to identify him with his pontificals,
      before they saw him stalking along the street in a dirty,
      striped dressing-gown. A wife was all that was now wanted to
      complete the establishment at Stanmore, and accordingly Miss
      Jane Marsingale, a lady of an ancient Yorkshire family, was
      provided for him, (Parr, like Hooker, appears to have courted
      by proxy, and with about the same success,) and so Stanmore
      was set a going as the rival of Harrow. These were fearful
      odds, and it came to pass, that in spite of "Attic symposia,"
      and groves of Academus, and the enacting of a Greek play, and
      the perpetual recitation of the fragment in praise of
      Harmodius and Aristogeiton, the establishment at Stanmore
      declined, and at the end of five years, Parr was not sorry to
      accept the mastership of an endowed school at Colchester. To
      Colchester, therefore, he removed with his wife and a
      daughter in the spring of 1777. Here he took priest's orders
      at the hands of Bishop Lowth, and found society congenial to
      him in Dr. Foster, a kindred whig, and in Thomas Twining, a
      kindred scholar.
    </p>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      YOUNG NAPOLEON
    </h3>
    <p>
      This poor boy, whose destiny has suffered so remarkable a
      change, appears to have been a child of great promise, both
      for intelligence and goodness of heart. The anecdotes
      concerning him are of the most pleasing kind. From the time
      that he knew how to speak, he became, like most children, a
      great questioner. He loved, above every thing, to watch the
      people walking in the garden and in the court of the
      Tuileries, over which his windows looked. There was always a
      crowd of people assembled there to see him. Having remarked
      that many of the persons who entered the palace, had rolls of
      paper under their arms, he desired to know of his
      <i>gouvernante</i> what that meant. He was told that they
      were unfortunate people, who came to ask some favour of his
      papa. From this moment he shouted and wept whenever he saw a
      petition pass, and was not to be satisfied till it was
      brought to him; and he never failed to present himself, every
      day at breakfast, all those which he had collected in the
      course of the day before. It may be easily supposed, that
      when this practice was known to the public, the child was
      never at a loss for petitions.
    </p>
    <p>
      He saw one day under his windows a woman in mourning who held
      by the hand a little boy about four years old, also in
      mourning. This little fellow had in his hand a petition which
      he held up from a distance to the young prince. The boy would
      know why this poor, little one was clothed all in black. His
      governess answered that it was, no doubt, because his papa
      was dead. He manifested a strong desire to talk with the
      child.&mdash;Madame Montesquieu, who seized every occasion of
      developing his sensibility, consented, and gave an order that
      he should be brought in with his mother. She was a widow
      whose husband had been killed in the last campaign, and
      finding herself without resources, had petitioned the emperor
      for a pension. The young Napoleon took the petition and
      promised to deliver it to his papa. The next morning he made
      up his ordinary packet of petitions, but the one in which he
      took a particular interest he kept separate, and after
      putting the mass into the hands of the emperor according to
      custom; "Papa," said he, "here is the petition of a very
      unfortunate little boy; you are the cause of his father's
      dying, and now he has nothing. Give him a pension, I beg."
      Napoleon took up his son and embraced him tenderly, gave him
      the pension, which he antedated, and caused the patent to be
      made out in the course of the day.&mdash;<i>Translated from
      the French.&mdash;Westminster Review.</i>
    </p>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      AN ESKDALE ANECDOTE.
    </h3>
    <center>
      <i>Extract of a Letter from the Ettrick Shepherd.</i>
    </center>
    <p>
      I chanced to be on a weeks' visit to a kind friend, a farmer
      in Eskdale-muir, who thought meet to have a party every day
      at dinner, and mostly the same party. Our libations were
      certainly carried rather to an extremity, but our merriment
      corresponded therewith. There was one morning, indeed, that
      several of the gentlemen were considerably hurt, and there
      were marks of blood on the plaster, but no one could tell
      what had happened. It appeared that there had been a quarrel,
      but none of us knew what about, or who it was that fought.
    </p>
    <p>
      But the most amusing part of the ploy
      <span class="pagenum"><a id="page335" name="page335"></a>[pg
      335]</span> (and a very amusing part it was) regarded a half
      hogshead of ale, that was standing in the lobby to clear for
      bottling. On the very first forenoon, our thirst was so
      excessive, that the farmer contrived to insert a spigot into
      this huge cask, and really such a treasure I think was hardly
      ever opened to a set of poor thirsty spirits. Morning, noon,
      and night, we were running with jugs to this rich fountain,
      and handing the delicious beverage about to lips that glowed
      with fervour and delight. In a few days, however, it wore so
      low, that before any would come, one was always obliged to
      hold it up behind; and, finally, it ran dry.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the very morning after that, the farmer came in with a
      wild raised look. "Gentlemen," said he, "get your
      hats&mdash;haste ye&mdash;an' let us gang an' tak a lang
      wauk, for my mother an' the lasses are on a-scrubbing a whole
      floorfu' o' bottles; an' as I cam by, I heard her speaking
      about getting the ale bottled the day."
    </p>
    <hr class="full" />
    <h2>
      THE SKETCH-BOOK.
    </h2>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      CREATING WANTS.
    </h3>
    <center>
      <i>An old, but a true Story.</i>
    </center>
    <p>
      I was bred a linen-draper, and went into business with better
      than a thousand pounds. I married the daughter of a country
      tradesman, who had received a boarding-school education. When
      I married I had been in business five years, and was in the
      way of soon accumulating a fortune. I was never out of my
      shop before it was shut up, and was remarked by my friends as
      being a steady young man, with a turn for business.
    </p>
    <p>
      I used to dine in the parlour, where I could have an eye upon
      the shop; but my new acquaintances told me this was
      <i>extremely ungenteel</i>; that if I had no confidence in my
      men I should get others; that a thief would be a thief, watch
      him how I would, and that I was now too forward in the world
      to be a slave to the shop.
    </p>
    <p>
      From being constantly in my shop from seven in the morning
      till eight in the evening, I lay in bed till nine, and took a
      comfortable breakfast before I made my appearance below.
      Things, however, went on very well&mdash;I bowed to my best
      customers, and attended closely to my business while I was in
      it, trade went on briskly, and the only effect of this
      acquaintance was the necessity of letting our friends see
      that we were getting above the world, by selling some of our
      old-fashioned furniture, and replacing it with that which was
      more <i>genteel</i>, and introducing wine at dinner when we
      had company.
    </p>
    <p>
      As our business increased, our friends told us it would be
      <i>extremely genteel</i> to take a lodging in summer just at
      the outskirts of the city, where we might retire in the
      evening when shop was shut, and return to it next morning
      after breakfast; for as we lived in a close part of the town,
      fresh air was necessary to our health; and though, before I
      had this airy lodging, I breathed very well in town, yet
      indulging in the fresh air, I was soon sensible of all the
      stench and closeness of the metropolis; and I must own I
      began to relish a glass of wine after dinner as well when
      alone as when in company: I did not find myself the worse in
      circumstances for this lodging; but I did not find I grew
      richer, and we had no money to lay by.
    </p>
    <p>
      We soon found out that a lodging so near town was smothered
      with dust, and smelt too much of London air, therefore I took
      a small house we had seen about five miles from town, near an
      acquaintance we had made, and thought it imprudent to sleep
      from home every night, and that it would be better for my
      business to be in town all the week, and go to this house on
      Saturday, and continue there until Monday; but one excuse or
      other often found me there on Tuesday. Coach-hire backward
      and forwards, and carriage of parcels, generally cost us
      seven or eight shillings a week; and as a one-horse chaise
      would be attended with very little more expense, and removing
      to a further distance, seeing the expense would be saved by
      not having our house full of company on Sunday, which was
      always the case, being so near town; besides the exercise
      would be beneficial, for I was growing corpulent with good
      living and idleness. Accordingly we removed to the distance
      of fifteen miles from town, into a better house, because
      there was a large garden adjoining it, and a field for the
      horse. It afforded abundance of fruit, and fruit was good for
      scorbutic and plethoric habits, our table would be furnished
      at less expense, and fifteen miles was but an hour's ride
      more than seven miles.
    </p>
    <p>
      All this was plausible, and I soon found myself under the
      necessity of keeping a gardener; so that every cabbage that I
      before put on my table for one <i>penny</i> cost me one
      <i>shilling</i>, and I bought my dessert at the dearest hand;
      but I was in it&mdash;I found myself happy&mdash;in a
      profusion of fruit, and a blight was little less than death
      to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      This new acquired want, now introduced all the expensive
      modes of having <span class="pagenum"><a id="page336"
      name="page336"></a>[pg 336]</span> fruit in spite of either
      blasts or blights. I built myself a small hot house, and it
      was only the addition of a chaldron or two of coals; the
      gardener was the same, and we had the pride of putting on our
      table a pine-apple occasionally, when our acquaintance were
      contented with the exhibition of a melon.
    </p>
    <p>
      From this expense we soon got into a fresh one. As we often
      out-staid Monday in the country, it was thought prudent that
      I should go to town on Monday by myself, and return in the
      evening; this being too much for one horse, a second-hand
      chariot might be purchased for a little more than what the
      one-horse chaise would sell for; the field was large enough
      for two horses; going to town in summer in an open carriage
      was choking ourselves with dust, burning our faces, and the
      number of carriages on the road made driving dangerous;
      besides, having now a genteel acquaintance in the
      neighbourhood, there was no paying a visit in a one-horse
      chaise. Another horse would be but very little addition in
      expense; we had a good coach-house, and the gardener would
      drive. All this seemed true. I fell into the scheme; but soon
      found that the wheels were so often going that the gardener
      could not act in both capacities; whilst he was driving the
      chariot, the hot-house was neglected; the consequence was,
      that I hired a coachman. The chariot brought on the necessity
      of a footman&mdash;a better acquaintance&mdash;wax
      candles&mdash;Sherry&mdash;Madeira&mdash;French Wines,
      &amp;c. In short, I grew so fond of these indulgencies that
      they became WANTS, and I was unhappy when in town and out of
      the reach of them.
    </p>
    <p>
      All this would have done very well if I had not had a
      business to mind; but the misfortune was, that it took me off
      from trade&mdash;unsettled my thoughts; my shopmen were too
      much left to themselves, they were negligent of my business,
      and plundered me of my property. I drew too often upon the
      till&mdash;made no reserve for the wholesale dealers and
      manufacturers&mdash;could not answer their demands upon
      me&mdash;and became&mdash;<i>Bankrupt</i>.
    </p>
    <p>
      Reduced now to live upon a chop and a draught of porter, I
      feel my <i>wants</i> more than ever; my wife's genteel
      notions having upset her, she has lost her spirits. We do
      little but upbraid each other, and I am become despicable in
      my own opinion, and ridiculous in that of others. I once was
      happy, but now am miserable.
    </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>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      GUDE NEWS.
    </h3>
    <center>
      <i>Copied from an inscription over the fireplace of a
      public-house in Edinburgh, the frequent resort of Burns.</i>
    </center>
    <p>
      Willie Christie tells them wha dinna ken, that he has a
      public house, first door down Libbertown Wynd, in the Lawn
      Market, whaur he keeps the best o' stuff; gude nappy Yill
      frae the best o' Bruars in big bottels an' wee anes, an'
      Porter frae Lunnon o' a' sorts; Whuske as gude as in the
      Toun, an o' a' strength, an' for cheapness ekwall to ony
      that's gaun. Jinger Beer in wee bottells at Tippence, an'
      Sma' Beer for three bawbees the twa bottels out of the house,
      an' a penny the bottel in.
    </p>
    <p>
      N.B. Toddy cheap an' unco' gude if 'tis his ain mackin.
    </p>
    <h4>
      S.H.
    </h4>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      EPIGRAM.
    </h3>
    <div class="poem">
      <div class="stanza">
        <p>
          Whilst Mary kissed her infant care,
        </p>
        <p>
          "You like my lip," she cried, "my dear."
        </p>
        <p>
          The smiling child, though half afraid,
        </p>
        <p>
          Thus to her beauteous mother said:
        </p>
        <p>
          "With me, mamma, oh, do not quarrel,
        </p>
        <p>
          I thought your lip had been my coral."
        </p>
      </div>
    </div>
    <h4>
      E.A.W.
    </h4>
    <hr />
    <h3>
      AN EXPLETIVE.
    </h3>
    <p>
      A newspaper tells us that an <i>old</i> woman died April 26,
      at Wolverhampton, aged 150 years.
    </p>
    <hr />
    <center>
      LIMBIRD'S EDITION<br />
      <i>of the Following Novels is already Published:</i>
    </center>
    <pre>
                                       s. d.
  Mackenzie's Man of Feeling           0  6
  Paul and Virginia                    0  5
  The Castle of Otranto                0  6
  Almoran and Hamet                    0  5
  Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia. 0  6
  The Castles of Athlia 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>
        The above brief account of a veritable old English Manor
        House, transcribed from a few rough notes, taken at the
        period of personal observation, is now supplied by the
        writer as an article entitled "The Siege of Sawston,"
        appears this month, in that clever and amusing work <i>The
        United Service Journal</i>.
      </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>
    <hr class="full" />







<pre>





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Literature, Amusement,
and Instruction, by Various

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF LITERATURE, NO. 370 ***

***** This file should be named 11347-h.htm or 11347-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
        https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/3/4/11347/

Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Allen Siddle, David Garcia and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.


Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
compressed (zipped), HTML and others.

Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
the old filename and etext number.  The replaced older file is renamed.
VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
new filenames and etext numbers.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     https://www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
are filed in directories based on their release date.  If you want to
download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
download by the etext year.

     https://www.gutenberg.org/etext06

    (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
     98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)

EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
identical to the filename).  The path to the file is made up of single
digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename.  For
example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:

     https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234

or filename 24689 would be found at:
     https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689

An alternative method of locating eBooks:
     https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL




</pre>

  </body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-01-06 03:17:02 +0000