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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:52 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:52 -0700 |
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diff --git a/11411-h/11411-h.htm b/11411-h/11411-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..faee6be --- /dev/null +++ b/11411-h/11411-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1538 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Solaris (vers 1st October 2003), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Mirror of Literature, Issue 390.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em; margin: auto;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + .figure p + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11411 ***</div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page177" name="page177"></a>[pg +177]</span> +<h1>THE MIRROR<br /> +OF<br /> +LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.</h1> +<hr class="full" /> +<table width="100%" summary="Volume, Number, and Date"> +<tr> +<td align="left"><b>Vol. 14. No. 390.]</b></td> +<td align="center"><b>SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1829</b></td> +<td align="right"><b>[PRICE 2d.</b></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>CLIFTON.</h2> +<div class="figure" style="width:80%;"><a href= +"images/390-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/390-1.png" alt= +"Clifton" /></a></div> +<p>Clifton is the Montpellier of England, and is associated with +all that is delightful in nature: of this, the Engraving before us +is a true picture, whether we contemplate the winding Avon; the +sublime beauty of its rocks—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Clifton's airy rocks,</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>(as Mr. Bowles poetically calls them), the picturesque scenery +of the opposite shore; or the abodes of cottage comforts which +cluster into a rural village beside the cliff till the eye reaches +a splendid range of crescents and terraces which art has reared on +the stupendous brow above.</p> +<p>Clifton is situated on the south and west of the cliff, or hill, +(whence its name), one mile westward of the city of Bristol, over +great part of which it commands a very pleasing prospect, as also +of the ships that, on the flood and ebb tides, sail up and down the +Avon. From the opposite shore the richly cultivated lands of +Somersetshire present themselves in a very beautiful landscape, +rising gradually four or five miles from the verge of the river to +the top of Dundry Hill, whereon is a high tower, esteemed the +Proteus of the weather, as being commonly enveloped with mist, so +as scarcely to be visible, against rain; but, on the contrary, if +it be seen clear and distinct in the morning, it denotes the +approach of a fine day.</p> +<p>The salubrious situation of Clifton has long since attracted the +wealthy. Hence, the hill is nearly covered with superb buildings, +(for which the freestone of the country affords peculiar +facilities), till the village has almost become an elegant city. +The Downs are covered with verdure all the year, and the turf +abounds with aromatic plants, growing wild, which are not to be met +with elsewhere in England. Here are also discernible ancient +fortifications and intrenchments; and coins of the later Roman +emperors have frequently been found about the camp; there are other +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page178" name="page178"></a>[pg +178]</span> military works opposite, on the Somersetshire side of +the Avon. Besides the above remains, on Clifton Downs, is an old +tower with a brick floor, but without any roof. (<i>See the +Engraving.</i>) From three open spaces, formerly doors, are +exquisite views: in front an extensive prospect of Gloucestershire; +on the right, part of Clifton, and in the background Dundry Hill; +and on the left, King's Road, with the ships at anchor, the Bristol +Channel, and the mountains of South Wales. At the end of the Downs +stands the mansion of Sir William Draper, once so conspicuous in +the public mind from the severe chastisement he received from +Junius. To the left is an expensive monument erected by Sir +William, who was colonel of the 79th regiment, to the memory of his +soldiers who fell in the East Indies, in 1768; and to the right is +a pillared tribute to the patriotic Earl of Chatham, with a brief +Latin inscription by Sir William Draper.</p> +<p>Our view of Clifton is from the Ferry, and is from an effective +lithograph, of very recent date.</p> +<p>Added to the charms of the romantic scenery of Clifton are the +attractions of the Bristol Hot Wells, in the vicinity; upon which +fashion has conferred too great celebrity to render description +needful. The richness and grandeur of the scenery of the Hot Wells +are almost inconceivable; in some places the rocks, venerably +majestic, rise perpendicularly, or overhanging, craggy and bare; +and in others they are clothed with luxuriant shrubs and stately +trees. From the bottom of these cliffs, on the east bank of the +river, issues the Bristol Hot Well water. The spring rises out of +an aperture in the solid rocks and is computed to discharge about +forty gallons in a minute.</p> +<p>The author of the <i>History and Beauties of Clifton Hot +Wells</i>, in describing this scenery, says, "One of the sublimest +and most beautiful scenes in nature is exhibited by those bold and +rugged eminences behind the crescent, known by the name of <i>St. +Vincent's Rocks</i>, which appear to have been rent asunder by some +violent convulsion of nature." They are misshapen and massy +projections, nearly 300 feet in height. Pieces of this rock, when +broken, have much the appearance of a dark, red marble; and when +struck by a substance of corresponding hardness, emit a strong +sulphureous smell. It is sometimes used as a substitute for foreign +marble for chimney-pieces; but principally for making lime. In the +fissures of these rocks are found those fine crystals usually +called Bristol stones, which are so hard as to cut glass, and +sustain the action of fire and of <i>aquafortis</i>; this, however, +is only the case with such as are tinged. The imperfect ones, in +which there appears something like small hairs, white specks, or +bubbles of air and water, turn white when calcined.</p> +<p>On these rocks, the Rev. W. Lisle Bowles has the following +lines:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>How beauteous the pale rocks above the shore</p> +<p class="i2">Uplift their bleak and furrow'd aspect high!</p> +<p>How proudly desolate their foreheads, hoar,</p> +<p class="i2">That meet the earliest sunbeam of the sky!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Bound to yon dusky mart, with pennants gay,</p> +<p class="i2">The tall bark on the winding water's line,</p> +<p>Between the river cliffs plies her hard way,</p> +<p class="i2">And peering on the sight the white sails shine.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>LITERARY PROBLEM.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<p>It is not perhaps generally known, that in the writings of +Sodates, a poet of Thrace, many of the verses may be turned and +read different ways, without either losing the measure or sense; +for instance the following, which may be read backwards:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Roma tibi stibito motibus ibit amor</p> +<p>Si bene te, tua laus taxat, sua laute tenebis</p> +<p>Sole medere pede, ede perede, melos."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>His writings are nearly extinct, and are for the most part of a +very immoral kind. He wrote some verses against Philadelphus +Ptolemy, and was, in consequence, put into a cage of lead and +thrown into the sea.</p> +<p>K.K.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>THE GENOESE.<a id="footnotetag1" name= +"footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<p>The Genoese women, are almost without exception +<i>beautiful</i>, and many of them retain their loveliness for a +longer period than is usual in warm climates; I have seen very +handsome females turned of forty. They are excessively fond of +adorning themselves on Sundays and all festive occasions, with a +profusion of rich and expensive gold ornaments; indeed the married +women cannot be seen without them, for they are an essential part +of their hymeneal dower. A young woman, upon the occasion of her +nuptials, is obliged to purchase a <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page179" name="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> set of gold trinkets, +should the existence of her mother prevent her inheriting those +which are already in the family; and in order to make this +important purchase, no small property is required, since as much as +three or four hundred francs are often given for a pair of +ear-rings, seven or eight hundred for a necklace, chain, bracelets, +or other articles individually; a few more trifling ornaments +complete the set, with a curious kind of gold filagree cap, or net, +for the head. These trinkets are in fact <i>necessary</i> adjutants +to Genoese domestic economy, since, though as heir-looms they are +never sold, except three or four sets should, from family +casualties, become the property of an individual, yet there is +neither law nor prejudice against pawning them; and, in pawn they +generally are, from the week's commencement to its end, being +redeemed on the Saturday night, only to be worn on Sunday, and +pledged again on the Monday morning. There are shops in Genoa +expressly for the sale of these bridal ornaments, which are worn +there, exclusively by the inferior classes; for the higher orders +of society if seen in such, would forfeit, whether foreigners or +citizens, all pretentions to rank and fashion; however, the Genoese +gold trinkets, may be, and are, much worn by the <i>Hidalgos</i> of +many a place afar from that of their manufacture. These ornaments +are not wrought into more than four fashions, which never vary. The +Genoese women marry at fifteen or sixteen years of age, and it is +impossible to imagine a creature more innocent, childish-looking, +and perfectly beautiful, than a young bride in her nuptial +attire.</p> +<p>The female children of genteel parentage are, in Genoa, allowed +to visit amongst themselves in balls and fêtes, until they +have attained the age of fourteen; when, being considered +marriageable, instead of "<i>coming out</i>" as in England, they +are kept strictly at home; allowed indeed to see a little company +there, but there only, except when taken <i>per favour</i>, once or +twice to the opera, to which they go purposely in an undress, sit +at the back of the box, so as not to be seen, or if accidentally +beheld, they are not to be recognised. When a girl reaches the +appointed years of discretion, the sole consideration of her +parents is, to <i>marry</i> her, and in this matter <i>she</i>, +poor thing, has no voice, as I shall proceed to prove. Negotiating +matches, making proposals, and arranging marriages, are affairs +confided to the prudence and mediation of certain busy old ladies, +who find their account in bringing about weddings, since they +receive a regular <i>per centage</i> upon them. One of these +emissaries of Hymen will call on a parent who has a son, reported +to be an eligible match, and open the business by talking of the +young man, until an opportunity occurs of inquiring whether he is +not soon to be settled, and how much will be allowed him? These +queries being answered to the good lady's satisfaction, she +proceeds a step further, and enumerates the principal families of +her acquaintance, who have daughters to <i>dispose</i> of, adding +an accurate description of each Signorina's person, connexions, +property, expectancies, and other advantages. A lady having been +selected as an eligible match for the youth, the parents on both +sides being agreed, and the young gentleman duly informed of their +arrangements for his happiness, he is allowed to commence paying +his addresses to the fair one, by sending her a large, and +peculiarly constructed bouquet, the acceptance of which, is in fact +an acceptance of himself, and the girl is immediately considered a +<i>Sposina</i>, or betrothed one. The bouquet, and herself, in full +dress, are forthwith carried to the opera, where the former is +laid, and the latter seated, immediately in front of the box; when, +numerous are the eyes and glasses levelled at the new +<i>Sposina</i>, upon this her first appearance in public. On this +interesting and trying occasion, her accepted lover stands during +the performance behind her chair, and is assiduous in his +attentions. The next amusement at which, according to etiquette the +<i>Sposina</i> appears, is a ball, to which she goes attended by +her lover, and one or both of her parents. The bouquet, the emblem +of her engagement goes with her, which never quits her hand, except +when she dances, and is then laid on her seat, until her return. +She is not allowed to dance with any one but her brother, intended +husband, or his most intimate friend to whom perhaps as a +<i>favour</i>, he may choose to introduce her. The duty of the +engaged man is, to present his <i>Sposina</i> every morning up to +the period of their union, with a fresh bouquet, the size of which +intimates the degree of affection and respect that he entertains +for her. But should the lover's finances be slender, and his +nuptials long delayed, he must find this elegant custom a very +ruinous one, since the price of the best of these bouquets (and who +durst for <span class="pagenum"><a id="page180" name= +"page180"></a>[pg 180]</span> his own credit's sake present an +inferior one?) is five or six francs. The <i>Sposina</i> appears +everywhere and everyday with a bouquet in her hand, closely +attended by her lover, and either or both of her parents; and a +female, a stranger in Genoa, commits a breach of etiquette by +walking through the streets carrying a nosegay, besides subjecting +herself to the impertinence of a thousand eyes, that ask, "<i>Are +you</i> a <i>Sposina</i>?" The wedding is celebrated with +splendour, the fortune of the bride being sometimes expended in +purchasing a magnificent dress, which is then deemed essential. +Amongst the highest classes, the English custom of the bride and +bridegroom quitting the wedding party immediately after the +performance of the marriage-ceremony, for a tour, has commenced; +but this innovation upon their established national manners, has +not yet obtained a very general footing. The <i>match-maker</i> is, +upon the wedding-day, presented with a sum of money adequate to the +trouble she has taken to effect the alliance; for a lack of beauty, +or fortune on the lady's side, mars her matrimonial prospects, and +causes as great difficulties respecting her settlement in life, at +Genoa, as in some other places I could mention rather nearer home. +Once, being in company with an ancient dame, who had brought about +a marriage that astonished all Genoa, she informed me, that she +received as her <i>douceur</i> upon the occasion, 50<i>l</i>. This, +I am to conclude, was a liberal recompense; for the <i>Sposina</i>, +in that instance, was so plain, (a circumstance unusual with the +Genoese women,) and afflicted with so bad a breath, as to be an +object of disgust with all the men who heard of her. The +<i>bouquets</i> which I have mentioned, are peculiar in structure, +and beautiful in appearance: they are composed of the most +brilliantly coloured flowers, disposed round a large central +flower, in tiers, or rows, of the same colour; as, first perhaps, a +row of red, then white, then purple, then yellow, then blue, +&c. &c.; the stalks are cut short, curiously attached to +wire by fine silk or thread, and being bound compactly together, so +that the stalks and wires brought into a point, form a convenient +handle, the petals of the flowers stand out in lines of the most +vivid hues, making a kind of smooth, expanded, circular, and +convex, surface. The manufacture of these bouquets, one of which +takes a considerable time to complete, is a distinct occupation, +and the sale of them, quite a trade; and though made elsewhere than +at Genoa, those of that town are most esteemed, and sent over all +parts of Italy. The flowers composing these bouquets, will keep for +at least a fortnight as fresh and beautiful as when first gathered, +and are capable of bearing long journeys, for they are constantly +forwarded in boxes made expressly for them, to Turin, which is +about a hundred miles from Genoa, where they arrive fresh and +uninjured. An English nobleman indeed, not long since, having a +quick conveyance, dispatched a Genoese bouquet to his family in +England, who received it in its pristine beauty. Besides being +presented by lovers to their affianced brides, they are the gifts +of friend to friend on most festive occasions, such as weddings, +christenings, birthdays, Saint's days, and holidays; and always +upon New Year's day, which is as great an occasion for the transfer +of gifts in Italy, as it is in France. The freshness and beauty of +these bouquets, of which several were sent to me during my +residence in Genoa, are to be thus preserved: at night put your +flowers into a glass or vase, <i>without water</i>, since the +stalks bound together in the manner described have lost the power +of suction and could not be benefitted by it; then, lightly +sprinkle, or water (with a watering-pot, the rose of which is +finely bored,) the flowery head of the bouquet, and carefully cover +it with a fine, light handkerchief, also moistened. This attention +paid every night will preserve these beautiful nosegays, fresh and +fair for many weeks.</p> +<p>M.L.B.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE NAUTILUS.</h3> +<h3>WRITTEN FOR MUSIC.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Hark! 'tis the song of the sailor shell,</p> +<p class="i2">Sweet on the breezes swelling:</p> +<p>Rearing its arms to the breathing gale,</p> +<p class="i2">Over the billows sailing.</p> +<p class="i4">Calm is the eve,</p> +<p class="i4">The wavelets heave</p> +<p class="i2">Their crests to the setting sun,</p> +<p class="i4">Glitter awhile</p> +<p class="i4">In his golden smile,</p> +<p class="i2">And their brilliant course is run.</p> +<p>Hasten, my brothers, our boat along,</p> +<p class="i2">Off to our sea side dwelling:</p> +<p>Haste; while the Nautilus' evening song</p> +<p class="i2">Sweet on the breeze is swelling.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Up with the sail! for the earliest boat</p> +<p class="i2">Lies 'neath the world of waters</p> +<p>Ceased is the wild harmonious note</p> +<p class="i2">That melody's soul first taught us.<a id= +"footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href= +"#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a></p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page181" name="page181"></a>[pg +181]</span> +<p class="i6">Over the sea</p> +<p class="i6">The wind blows free,</p> +<p class="i4">The spray in the air is hurl'd:</p> +<p class="i6">Clouds in the wave</p> +<p class="i6">Their bosoms lave;</p> +<p class="i4">Then quick be our sail unfurl'd,</p> +<p>Haste ye, my brothers, ere night comes on,</p> +<p class="i2">Over the world of waters:</p> +<p>Sing to high heaven, the mellow song</p> +<p class="i2">The Nautilus' note first taught us.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>W. PEARCE.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PARAPHRASE ON BISHOP HEBER'S PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Life, like a mighty river, bears us on</p> +<p>A rapid tide, we ne'er can rest upon,</p> +<p>Adown the narrow stream, at first, we glide</p> +<p>Thro' fruits and flowers that fringe the grassy side.</p> +<p>The playful murmurings of its windings seem</p> +<p>Soft, as the far-off music of a dream,</p> +<p>Over our heads the trees their blossoms shed,</p> +<p>Flowers on the brink their mingled odours shed.</p> +<p>Beauty around, above us, Hope within;</p> +<p>Eager we grasp each dazzling charm to win.</p> +<p>But hurried on and on, we ne'er can stay</p> +<p>Our little bark to anchor or delay.</p> +<p>For now, how full, how deep, how vast the river</p> +<p>On which we glide, that stays its journey never!</p> +<p>As rolling years bring with them joy and woe,</p> +<p>Dark, and more various, seems our voyage to grow.</p> +<p>Buoyant we ride on waves of hope and joy,</p> +<p>Down, down, we sink, when earthly cares annoy!</p> +<p>Futile and vain, alike each hope or fear</p> +<p>On, on, we glide, there is no resting here.</p> +<p>For far behind is left each joy and woe,</p> +<p>The mighty river ne'er will cease to flow!</p> +<p>And, rough and smooth, it hastens to its home,</p> +<p>Glides by each futile hope and pleasure gone.</p> +<p>Until within our ears the ocean roars,</p> +<p>And the bleak billows break upon the shores;</p> +<p>Beneath our keel the bounding waves arise,</p> +<p>And the land lessens from our aching eyes.</p> +<p>The floods of "Time's wide ocean" round us swell,</p> +<p>Earth take of us thy long and last farewell!</p> +<p>For witness of our <i>future voyage</i> there's none</p> +<p>But <i>He</i>, the Infinite, Eternal One!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Kirton Lindsey</i>.<span style="margin-left:3em">ANNIE +R.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>ON VEILS.</h3> +<h4>(<i>To the Editor of the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>In No. 385, of the MIRROR, one of your Correspondents gives an +account of the "<i>Origin</i> of <i>wearing</i> the veil," in which +he attributes it to Penelope, the beautiful wife of Ulysses. Now, +for my own part, I feel inclined to query this statement of C.K.W. +first by his own account of the origin, and second by +Scripture.</p> +<p>Your Correspondent, speaking of the decision which the wife of +Ulysses was to give, says, "the beautiful Penelope finding herself +in this dilemma, <i>blushed</i>, and without making the least +reply, drew <i>her</i> veil over her face," &c. By this I think +it is clearly understood that veils were common in Greece when this +occurrence took place; or why say "<i>her</i> veil," which readily +implies, that it was customary to wear them, and also that it was +near her at the time; although, perhaps, she <i>might</i> have been +the first to use it upon such an occasion, namely, to hide her +blushes from the observation of her father when she decided upon +accompanying her husband in preference to staying with her parent. +2nd. In Scripture we find the veil used in Moses' time, and even by +Moses himself,<a id="footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"></a><a href= +"#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a> 1491 years before Christ; but the +earliest <i>mention</i> of it which I can find in the Old Testament +is in Genesis, xxiv. 65, (before Christ 1857 years,) where it says +"Rebekah took a veil when she saw Isaac coming towards her, and +covered herself;" it being customary even in those early times to +wear them, especially with brides. Now, by referring to the History +of Greece, it appears that Sparta, near which this scene of +Penelope's is said to have taken place, was not <i>founded</i> or +instituted till about A.M. 2650, or before Christ 1354, which alone +makes a difference of 500 years, setting aside the time from the +foundation of Sparta to the period in which Ulysses lived.</p> +<p>I therefore come to the conclusion that your Correspondent is +mistaken with regard to the origin of wearing the veil; for it is +allowed by all that the Bible is the most ancient work extant, +therefore to that we must go for such information as cannot be +derived from any other source. I beg leave to conclude this paper +with a few observations, and some extracts from different writers, +on the veils worn in the East, which may not, perhaps, be +uninteresting to your numerous readers.</p> +<p>By perusing the various accounts given us by travellers in the +East, it appears that great importance is attached to the veil. The +strictness with which the ladies keep their faces covered and +hidden from the sight of men, is common in the East, for they are +generally of the most exquisite beauty; and would take it as the +greatest insolence which could be offered to them, should their +veils at any time be drawn aside.</p> +<p>"Veil answers to the Hebrew word <i>tzaiph</i>, translated by a +veil, a scarf, or mantle, with which the eastern women <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page182" name="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> +covered their head and face. The Hebrew has also <i>haradidim</i>, +or veils to sit at table in. The veil was a kind of crape, so that +they could see through it, or at least a passage was left for the +light to come to their eyes." <i>Calmet</i>, vol. ii. art. +Veil.</p> +<p>Veils are usually worn both in the house and when abroad, and +are of four kinds; one of which is a kind of handkerchief, which +the Eastern ladies wear over the face and the temples. This +handkerchief or veil has a net work at the place of the eyes, like +point or thread lace, in order that it may be seen through.</p> +<p>Chardin, in his <i>Voyage en Perse</i>, tom. ii. p. +50, says, "The Armenian women, contrary to the Mahometan women, +have, even when in the house, the lower part of the face veiled, +even including the nose, if they are married. This is in order that +their nearest relations and their priests, who have the liberty of +visiting them, may see only a part of their face; but the girls +wear this veil only to the mouth, for the contrary reason, in order +that they may be seen enough to judge of their beauty, and to talk +of it.... Girls are not <i>shut up</i> in Persia till they attain +the age of six or seven years; before that age they go out of the +seraglio, sometimes with their father, so that they may then be +seen. I have seen some wonderfully pretty. They show the neck and +bosom, and more beautiful cannot be seen."</p> +<p>Hanway gives the following account, <i>Travels in Persia</i>, +vol i. 185:—"The women in Ghilan are fair, their eyes and +hair black; but here, as in other places, they often use a drug +with which they blacken their eyes. In this province their features +are small: these, as well as their stature, partaking much of the +delicate. But in general the Georgians are most esteemed for the +charms of their persons. The females who do not labour in the +field, are seldom seen abroad, except in a morning before the sun +rises, and then they are covered with <i>veils</i>, which reach +down to their feet. When they travel on horseback, every lady of +distinction is not only veiled, but has generally a servant; who +runs or rides before her to clear the way; and on such occasions +the men, even in the market-places, <i>always turn their backs till +the women are past</i>, it being thought the highest ill manners to +look at them; but this awful respect is a proof of the slavery in +which they are doomed to live. The care which they take to conceal +their faces, to avoid the imputation of acting indelicately, and +contrary to custom, has made so strong an impression on them, that +I was told of a woman who being accidentally surprised when +bathing, showed her whole person except her face; to hide which all +her solicitude was employed."</p> +<p>From Volney, vol. ii. p. 481, we have the following:—"In +Asia the women are rigorously secluded from the society of men; +constantly shut up in their houses, they have no communication but +with their husband, their father, their brother, or at most their +cousin german. Carefully <i>veiled</i> in the streets, they dare +hardly speak to a man, even on business. Everybody must be +strangers to them; it would be indecent to fix your eyes on them; +and you must let them pass you as if there were something +contagious in their nature. The situation of the women among the +Orientals, occasions a great contrast between their manners and +ours. Such is their delicacy on this head, that they never speak of +them; and it would be esteemed highly indecent to make any +inquiries of the men respecting the women of their family. They are +unable to conceive how our women go with their faces uncovered; +when, in their country, an uplifted veil is the mark of a +prostitute, or the signal for a love adventure."</p> +<p>Pitt's account coincides with the above. "At Algiers, if there +are two, three, or four families in one house, as many times there +happens to be, yet they may live there many years and never see one +another's wife." p. 63. "The women wear veils, so that a man's own +wife may pass him in the street and he not have the least knowledge +of her. They will not stop to speak with men, or even with their +own husbands in the street." p. 67.</p> +<p>Niebuhr says, p. 44. "A man never salutes women in public; he +would even commit an indecency if he looked at them steadily. An +Arab lady who met us in a wide valley of the desert of Mount Sinai, +went out of the way, gave her camel to be led by her servant, and +walked on foot till we were passed; another, who met us in a narrow +way, and who was on foot, sat down, and turned her back towards +us."</p> +<p>We see by the above, the importance attached to this part of +female dress in the East. The females of the Jewish nation, as +referred to above, in the case of Rebekah, wore the veil as a token +of modesty, reverence, or <i>subjection</i> to their husbands. +Chardin also says, +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page183" name= +"page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> +(<i>Voyage en Perse</i>) speaking of a peculiar +sort of veil, "Only married women wear it; and it is the mark by +which it is known <i>that they are under subjection</i> or +power."</p> +<p>I will not enlarge further upon the subject, but leave it to +your readers to draw their own conclusions.</p> +<p>JOSEPH TEMPLE E——K.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE SKETCH-BOOK.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>A NIGHT IN A SEDAN CHAIR.</h3> +<h4><i>From the German of Theodore Koerner.</i></h4> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<p>I came from a party where the wine had not been spared, and the +guests had but just separated, in a state of tolerable elevation. +It was a drear and stormy autumn night. On reaching the door of my +abode, I first became aware that I had forgotten the key. As I +could not imagine that any one would be awake at this late +hour,—for it now drew near twelve—and, besides, as I +lived on the fourth story, I had humanity enough not to alarm the +whole street, by ringing and shouting, for admittance. As this was +a circumstance of no very infrequent occurrence, I was not long +perplexed for a shelter; but directed my steps, as usual, towards +the sedan stand, at the market place, where of course I still met +with society, though fast locked in the fetters of sleep. In the +hall, lay stretched and snoring, the whole corps of the honourable +company of sedan chairmen; and on a bench near the wall, lay, as +usual, the sleeping guardian of the night. Without troubling myself +much about my companions, I gently opened a sedan—crept into +the corner—and slept much the sooner for "the good wine +having done its good office" on me.</p> +<p>I had slept but a very short time when I heard it strike twelve; +the watchman now arose, and blew a blast upon his horn that +thrilled through my every nerve, and sang:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>List—Christians list!—the passing bell</p> +<p>Of twelve, has just now told its knell,</p> +<p>And midnight is, when evil sprites,</p> +<p>Scare the tired sense, with wild affrights.</p> +<p>Now close your eyes in peace, and rest</p> +<p>Till morning rays illume the west:</p> +<p class="i10">Praise God the Lord!</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>A second time he blew his horn, and the sound re-echoed +fearfully through the old Town House; the storm howled +terrifically, and the rain pattered against the panes of my +dwelling. In spite of the injunction of the watchman, I opened my +eyes, and beheld him advancing towards the other end of the +market-place, where he stopped to repeat his song; and again +occasionally from street to street, till his voice died away in the +distance. At this moment I was seized with an indefinable sensation +of dread. I would have run after the watchman, but the rain +deterred me. He, too, might have sung of something else than +exactly of that fearful hour of night—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"When tombs do yawn and graves yield up their dead."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>I did not feel at all comfortable. I was, notwithstanding, just +about to nestle myself up again in the corner, and once more close +my eyes, when they lighted on two, tall, meagre forms, whom I +immediately recognised by their garb as chairmen. There was +something mysterious in their movements, as if they were consulting +on matters of grave import—of their discourse I could +understand nothing—and their voices sounded to me, in the +chair, something like the noise made by a brush when drawn over the +surface of a sheet of paper. I was considering what might be the +result of all this, when they suddenly seized hold of the chair, +and marched off. I ought now indeed to have called out to them, but +partly from a curiosity to discover the cause of this singular +nocturnal ramble, and partly from a fear of being roughly treated +for my obtrusiveness, I was induced to remain quietly in my corner. +My weight did not seem to attract their notice; but how great was +my astonishment on observing that my bearers were carrying me, in +unvarying circles, round the market place, though at every turn +they contracted the space they traversed—and that the usual +heavy-sounding tread of the chairmen was changed for a noiseless, +gliding pace. I looked out to see whether they had not drawn off +their boots, but I was soon convinced by the evidence of my eyes +that their heavy boots were in unison with the rest of the +customary apparel of that class. Their evolutions now became +gradually narrower, and I, in the same proportion, more anxious and +excited. At length they stopped, panting, under the lamp-post which +stands in the middle of the market place, and I was once more +greeted by those low, hoarse sounds, which I have already +mentioned, and it was only by dint of the most attentive listening, +that I could distinguish the following words:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We are formed of the mist of the grave,</p> +<p class="i2">We bear to the feast of the slain,</p> +<p>There we carry the free and the slave,</p> +<p class="i2">The host and his numberless train,</p> +<p>Yonder we carry—to and fro,</p> +<p>Nor end our labours e'er shall know.</p> +</div> +</div> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page184" name="page184"></a>[pg +184]</span> +<p>At this moment a mist floated before my eyes—I endeavoured +to shout—but although I used the utmost exertion, I could not +produce a sound—I felt as if palsied and enchained—my +situation was desperate—what species of civility could I +expect from the spirits, (for that they were supernatural beings I +could no longer doubt) of those chairmen who during their mortal +career are so noted for their brutality? After a short halt, they +recommenced their march at the same stealthy pace, through how many +streets I cannot now tell, for fear almost deprived me of my +senses. We came to the town gate—it opened—and my +conductors bore me directly towards—the churchyard! I was in +a fever of excitement. They no sooner reached this desired spot, +than they stopped, and I heard their accursed voices for the third +time. They opened the door, as if waiting for some one—I +endeavoured to embrace this opportunity to escape, or to call out, +but my strength had totally deserted me; every limb felt paralyzed. +And now a whole legion of similar fiends swarmed around my +conductors, and one after another, sprang in upon me, apparently no +more remarking my presence than if I had formed part of the +cushion. The first that fell upon me was a cold, heavy carcass that +might have been buried, at farthest, about three days. I thought +horror and disgust would have destroyed me. Then came a countless +myriad of the skeletons of the defunct, all crowding into the +sedan, as if it had been the ark of Noah. At length, to all +appearance, the whole of the inhabitants of the churchyard were +safely seated upon and beside me, and the tombstones which had +pertinaciously adhered to many a greasy soul, added not a little to +the load which lay rattling and groaning upon me. A monstrous +skeleton which lay at my side—with its eternal +grin—made the most horrible inroads into my right side with +its bony elbow, and such a smell—even now I wonder that every +sense did not leave me. The patience of my bearers seemed however +now to be exhausted. They still battled at the door with hundreds +of this amiable fraternity; at length they dashed the door to with +a force that made the windows quiver, and made off with me and my +noble troop. And now it was that the rattling, and groaning, and +the elbow manoeuvre were first fully brought into action, and in +their endeavours to seat themselves more conveniently, my accursed +freight jolted from one side to the other till I thought my knees +would have broken down under their burthen. One would imagine that +in such numerous society I should have been warmly seated, yet no +icehouse ever was colder. At every step that our bearers took, the +icy mass of putridity before me, shook together—my flesh +creeps even now at the recollection. The company, growing merry, +began to sing—and with organs similar to those I had already +remarked in our guides; but what airs! what tunes! The corpse +before me seemed to be a leading singer; his soul-moving, +heart-rending treble, sounded something like scraping slate pencil +upon glass; the stave was of the following joyous +import:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>See, how glows the deadly wine,</p> +<p class="i2">Upon the bony lip,</p> +<p>And arranged in spectral line,</p> +<p class="i2">Our joyous numbers trip.</p> +<p>See—attentive at her side,</p> +<p>The ghastly lover woos his bride;</p> +<p>Whilst sepulchral music flowing,</p> +<p>Scares the dawning day from growing.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>To the latest hour of my existence, I shall retain a vivid +recollection of this auricular martyrdom. After a ride of about +half an hour, during which, my situation was more horrible than I +can depict, our conductors stopped at another churchyard; the door +was now opened, and as each passed forward to escape, a terrific +squabble ensued between the cargo and my two attendants, probably +about the fare. A third time I strained every nerve to call out, +but it was absolutely impossible; at length, however, their quarrel +seemed to have been adjusted; the chairman shut the door, still +grumbling, and I was again, thank God, alone—could once more +breathe freely—and by degrees became warmer. My conductors +took their way through the gate back again, and I became more easy +in the reflection that, in consonance with old habits of good +order, they would probably replace the chair in its original +situation; but, to my astonishment and terror, I now first became +aware that the size of my conductors was rapidly enlarging. +Instantly their statures became more exalted, their forms more +aerial, and their strides more gigantic; and I could see distinctly +into the first floor of the houses of the street through which we +were passing. In the square where stands the monument of our late +lamented monarch, their forms became really terrific, and as the +foremost strode past, he swept the statue from its pedestal with +his coat, with as much apparent ease as if it had been a wax doll. +In the next street, I could, without difficulty, look into the +third floor of the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page185" name= +"page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> houses we were passing, and on +reaching the market place, I found myself elevated to the altitude +of the church-clock; my bearers having become as attenuated as the +conductor. Here all consciousness left me, and what farther became +of me, I know not. On recovering myself, I lay in the chair which +stood in its old place. It was already near mid-day; I therefore +crept softly out of my fearful tenement, and luckily escaped +unobserved. My friends to whom I related my adventure, said, that I +had dreamed—that I had been visited by the +nightmare—but to me it has always appeared singular, that for +the whole of the next day, my coat had a smell as earthy as if it +had lain in a grave; and that the storm should this very night have +thrown down the statue of the king from its pedestal.</p> +<p>J.H.F.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.</h2> +<p><i>Waterproof Composition.</i></p> +<p>Mr. Henry Hunt, the patentee of the "Waterproof Composition," +informs us that for the above invention we are indebted to the +scientific researches of Baron Charles Wetterstedz, the brother of +one of the ministers of state at the Court of Sweden, by whom it +was employed to prevent the infection of the plague, by means of +absorption through the pores of the soles of boots and shoes; but +he accidentally discovered that it rendered them waterproof, during +a thaw in Sweden, when his boots, being prepared with this +composition, resisted the snow-water, and remained perfectly dry, +whilst the boots of other persons were saturated, and resembled +tripe.</p> +<p>Mr. Scott, an experienced engineer, has experimented upon +leather prepared with Mr. Hunt's Composition, and found it +"impervious to moisture at all degrees of pressure that leather +will bear." The best tannage becomes saturated at from ten to +fourteen pounds upon the inch, whilst that prepared with the +Composition, was not penetrated at 180 lbs. upon the inch. With +such testimony, we need not add our recommendation of "the +Waterproof Composition" as likely to prove of great benefit, +especially to our sporting and country friends.</p> +<p><i>Preservation of Canvass.</i></p> +<p>The <i>Literary Gazette</i> informs us, that an inhabitant of +Troyes, in Champagne, has discovered a method of preparing canvass, +and every other description of coarse linen, so as to resist damp, +and prevent the approach of insects and vermin, and that the +inventor promises to make his discovery public.</p> +<p><i>Bacon.</i></p> +<p>An American journal says, that Elder leaves bruised in a mortar, +with a little water, will destroy skippers in bacon, without +injuring the meat.</p> +<p><i>Ale.</i></p> +<p>Ale brewers usually put into the bung-hole of each cask, when +stowed away, a handful of half boiled hops impregnated with wort, +the object of which is to exclude the atmospheric air by covering +the surface of the liquid; but some brewers, more rigidly +attentive, insert (privately) at the same time, about one ounce of +powdered black rosin, previously mixed with beer, which swims on +the surface, but after a time is partially absorbed.—<i>Lib. +Useful Know.</i></p> +<p><i>Beer Poisons.</i></p> +<p><i>Cocculus Indicus</i> is largely imported into this country, +considering that few know for what other purpose it is used than to +adulterate beer. We suspect what was at one time generally sold to +brewers for Cocculus Indicus was really <i>Nux Vomica</i> (used to +poison rats), and that the brewers' druggists when making their +defence, passed Nux Vomica for Cocculus Indicus, on the same +principle as the forgers of bank notes plead guilty to the lesser +indictment. <i>Opium</i>, we believe, is still in use; for we have +known seizures of that article in the custody of ale brewers, +within the last two years.—<i>Library of Useful Know.</i></p> +<p><i>Bees.</i></p> +<p>A Correspondent of the <i>Magazine of Natural History</i>, says, +"the superstition respecting bees prevails in some parts, as to +informing them of any great public event that takes place."</p> +<p><i>Swan River Settlement.</i></p> +<p>The soil of Swan River, from its moist state, is better adapted +to the cultivation of tobacco and cotton than any other part of +Australia. Both these articles are intended to be cultivated on a +large scale, as also sugar and flax, with various important +articles of drugs that the climate is peculiarly adapted to the +growth of.—<i>Parliamentary Papers.</i></p> +<p><i>The Harvest Bug</i></p> +<p>Is so minute as to be visible only to the keenest eyes, and then +only when on any very smooth white surface. Ladies and children are +the first to complain of their attacks; and chiefly where +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page186" name="page186"></a>[pg +186]</span> any part of the dress fits closely to the skin. There +they seat themselves at the intersection of the lines, and lay such +firm hold with their feet and jaws, that they cannot be displaced +by rubbing, nor by washing, unless a powerful spirit or acid be +used. By a microscope, the bug will be seen to have eight legs, two +feelers, and an abdomen something egg-shaped; colour livid red; and +in size no bigger than the point of a small needle. They lacerate +the epidermis in some way or other, as a small hole is observable +where they have been seated; and cause extreme itching and +considerable inflammation of the part.—<i>Magazine of Natural +History</i>.</p> +<p>We should think <i>Eau de luce</i> or ammonia a remedy for their +bite.</p> +<p><i>Adulterated Flour.</i></p> +<p>If flour adulterated with potato starch be sprinkled upon black +paper, and examined by a powerful lens, or a microscope, the starch +may be detected by the brilliancy of its grains.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>NOTES OF A READER.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>A BOTTLE OF GOOD WINE.</h3> +<p>The following (from the <i>Ramblings of a Desultory Man</i>, in +the <i>New Monthly Magazine</i>) is in the best vein of a <i>bon +vivant</i> and will be easily credited:—</p> +<p>"After dinner we ordered a bottle of Sautern, which was marked +in the carte at two francs ten sous. It was in a kind of despair +that we did it, for the red wine was worth nothing. It +came—people may talk of Hocheim, and Burgundy, and Hermitage, +and all the wines that ever the Rhone or the Rhine produced, but +never was their wine like that one bottle of Sautern. It poured out +as clear as the stream of hope ere it has been muddied by +disappointment, and it was as soft and generous as early joy ere +youth finds out its fallacy. We drank it slowly, and lingered over +the last glass as if we had a presentiment that we should never +meet with any thing like it again. When it was done, quite done, we +ordered another bottle. But no—it was not the same wine. We +sent it away and had another—in vain;—and +another—there was no more of it to be had.</p> +<p>"It was like one of those days of pure unsophisticated +happiness, that sometimes break in upon life, and leave nothing to +be desired; that come unexpectedly, last their own brief space, +like things apart, and are remembered for ever." We remember just +such a bottle of <i>Grave</i> at Abbeville.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ST. SAVIOUR, SOUTHWARK.<a id="footnotetag4" name= +"footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a></h3> +<p>Among the fine old localities of London is the neighbourhood of +the church of St. Saviour, Southwark; this is one of the noblest +and largest churches in London, and when the new London Bridge is +finished, might be made a noble object from the approach on the +Borough side. It is a positive disgrace if it be suffered to remain +in its present dilapidated state by the parishioners. The massy +spaciousness of the structure, and the solidity of its walls, +strike the stranger who first beholds it with admiration. In this +church lies old Gower the poet, and there are several very curious +relics of the olden time scattered about within its walls. Its date +is believed to be anterior to London Bridge. All the ground along +the river near it towards Blackfriars' Bridge is filled with +remains celebrated in the annals of the church, and what is +singular, also of the theatre.—<i>New Monthly +Magazine</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>HUMAN LIFE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Human life is like a river—</p> +<p>Its brightness lasts not on for ever—</p> +<p>That dances from its native braes,</p> +<p>As pure as maidhood's early days;</p> +<p>But soon, with dark and sullen motion,</p> +<p>It rolls into its funeral ocean,</p> +<p>And those whose currents are the slightest,</p> +<p>And shortest run, are aye the brightest:</p> +<p>So is our life—its latest wave</p> +<p>Rolls dark and solemn to the grave.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em"><i>Ettrick +Shepherd</i>.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>SHUMLA.</h3> +<p>The following description of Shumla, by an experienced officer, +will at this moment, be particularly interesting:—</p> +<p>"What is properly called the town of Shumla, is nearly +surrounded by a rampart of Mount Hæmus, or the Balkan, which +descends on both sides in the form of a horse-shoe. The steep +slopes of this great fence are covered with detached rocks and +close thorny bushes. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page187" name= +"page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> The nature of the ground makes it a +most advantageous position for the Turkish soldier, who when +sheltered by these inequalities, rapid steeps and a few +intrenchments, displays all the address of the most skilful +marksman. Like some orators, who cannot express themselves unless +when partly concealed by a table or tribunal, the Turk cannot use +his musket unless he can rest it on a stone or against the trunk of +a tree, but then his aim is infallible.</p> +<p>"The town is about a league in length, with half that breadth, +and may contain from thirty to thirty-five thousand souls. The +fortifications are of barbarian architecture; a ditch, with a +simple rampart, partly of earth, partly of brick, flanked here and +there with little towers, which serve neither for support nor +resistance, and which contain not above seven or eight fusileers. +But it is not the town itself which is to be considered, but the +vast intrenched field in the centre of which it is placed, and +which is capable of containing an immense army, with its magazines, +its utensils and equipage, without the enemy having the power to +throw a single shell into the place, or disturb it by any manoeuvre +whatever.</p> +<p>"The air is extremely healthy in the elevated positions of the +Balkan and in the narrow valleys which lie between its ridges.... +On the other hand, there cannot be a more unhealthy country than +that which extends from the Balkan to the borders of the Danube and +Pruth. This difference between the climate of the mountains and the +plain is the most formidable defence which nature has given Shumla. +While the enemy is encamped in wet grounds and pestilential +marshes, in want of wood, of provisions, and sometimes of men in +health to take care of the sick; the Turks breathe a keen, dry air, +and have an inexhaustible supply of fuel in the forests which +surround them. In summer, Shumla is an agreeable abode; the town is +surrounded by pleasant gardens, by vineyards, and a stream running +from the mountains maintains the verdure of the fields. In time of +peace it may be entered without hindrance, and the Turks allow the +curious to walk about and survey all the posts. In this there is +perhaps a secret pride, joined with the wish to communicate to +others the conviction which they themselves feel, that the place is +inexpugnable."</p> +<hr /> +<h3>COURT FLATTERY.</h3> +<p>Here is a draught of "delicious essence," proffered by the lord +of the Burmese granaries to the British embassy:—"The most +glorious monarch, the lord of the golden palace, the sunrising +king, holds dominion over that part of the world which lies towards +the rising sun; the great and powerful monarch, the King of +England, rules over the whole of that portion of the world which +lies towards the setting sun. The same glorious sun enlightens the +one and the other. Thus may peace continue between the two +countries, and for ever impart mutual blessings to both. Let no +cloud intervene, or mist arise, to obscure its genial rays."</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A BARGAIN.</h3> +<p>The Archbishop of Saltzburg paid, in 1745, 995 scudi for his +pallium, and 31,338 for his confirmation; <i>i.e.</i> (roughly +speaking) about 7,000<i>l</i>. The pallium consists of two stripes +of white wool, cut from two lambs offered up, in St. Agnes's +Church, on St. Agnes's Day, spun into a sort of cloth by the nuns +of St. Agnes, and consecrated by the Pope on the altar of St. +Peter's.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CITY PAGEANTS.</h3> +<p>In the reign of James I. the sober liverymen of London decked +themselves, on days of state, with chains of gold, pearl, or +diamonds. The wealthy merchant, Sir Paul Pindar, had a diamond +valued at thirty thousand pounds, which he lent to the king on +great occasions, but refused to sell. It was said by the Prince of +Anhalt, in 1610, after seeing "the pleasant triumphs upon the +water, and within the city, which at this time, were extraordinary, +in honour of the lord mayor and citizens," that "there was no state +nor city in the world that did elect their magistrates with such +magnificence, except the city of Venice, unto which the city of +London cometh very near." These exhibitions were more splendid, +and, though quaint and whimsical, savoured more of intellect and +invention than the similar "triumphs" of the present +day.—<i>Quarterly Review</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Brussels is rapidly advancing in the art of printing; one +individual published no less than 250,000 volumes in the year 1827. +Books are published much cheaper than in Paris, which creates no +small jealousy there. Didot projected to bring his press into +Brussels, but found that he had been forestalled by the labours of +more than one printer. Neither the type nor the paper equal the +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page188" name="page188"></a>[pg +188]</span> printing of London or Edinburgh, or perhaps Paris; but +they are daily improving, and an immense number of books are +exported.—<i>New Mon. Mag</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Huber, a German priest, relates a curious instance, in his own +experience, of the mischief done by hasty proceedings. When he +first went to his parish, he found, to his great disgust, only the +common books of devotion, viz.:—P. Cochem, the Great and +Little Garden, the Spiritual Soul-watcher, &c. The very first +occasion which offered, he attacked these books publicly and +vehemently from the pulpit. The people were shocked and offended; +they said that their fathers knew how to pray as well as fresh +teachers, and would not look at his new volumes of prayer. Taught +by his ill success to vary his plan, on a subsequent occasion he +took occasion to speak in proper terms of respect of the piety of +the composers of those early books, but added that many +improvements, as they all knew, were constantly making in +agriculture, masonry, &c., and so they must see that this might +be the case with books. He then proceeded in the pulpit to compare +the old and one of his new books of devotion, and before the +evening he had numerous applications for copies.—<i>Foreign +Quarterly Review</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>MOONLIGHT.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When sunbeams on the river blaze,</p> +<p>You on its glory scarce can gaze;</p> +<p>But when the moon's delirious beam,</p> +<p>In giddy splendour woos the stream,</p> +<p>Its mellow'd light is so refined,</p> +<p>'Tis like a gleam of soul and mind;</p> +<p>Its gentle ripple glittering by,</p> +<p>Like twinkle of a maiden's eye;</p> +<p>While all amazed at Heaven's steepness,</p> +<p>You gaze into its liquid deepness,</p> +<p>And see some beauties that excel—</p> +<p>Visions to dream of, not to tell—</p> +<p>A downward soul of living hue,</p> +<p>So mild, so modest, and so blue!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em"><i>Ettrick +Shepherd</i>.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>PERILS OF TRAVEL.</h3> +<p>Humboldt and his party, on their memorable ascent of the volcano +of Tunguragna, in the Nevado del Chimborazo, at the elevation of +19,300 feet, the highest spot ever trod by man, suffered severely. +The air was reduced to half its usual density, and felt intensely +cold and piercing. Respiration was laborious; and blood oozed from +their eyes, their lips, and their gums. Another peculiarity of +great elevations, noticed by travellers, is the astonishing +clearness of the atmosphere. Captain Head was struck with it in the +case of a condor shot, which appeared to fall within thirty or +forty yards; but on sending one of his miners to bring it back, to +his astonishment he found that the distance was such, as to take up +above half an hour, going and returning. In Norway, a friend of the +present writer stepped out of a boat to visit a spot, as he +conceived, of a few hundred yards distant, when in fact it proved +to be some miles. In the Pyrenees, the celebrated cascade of +Gavarni appears about a short mile from the auberge, where +travellers frequently leave their mules to rest, while they proceed +on foot, little aware that they are thereby exposing themselves to +a long and laborious walk of above an hour's duration. In the +Andes, Humboldt remarks this phenomenon; stating that in the +mountains of Quito he could distinguish the white poncho of a +person on horseback, at the distance of seventeen miles. He also +notices the extreme clear and steady light of the stars, which we +can vouch to be true to a most extraordinary degree even in Europe, +having distinctly seen the planet Venus, in a dazzling sunshine, at +half past eleven, from the summit of the port of Venasque, in the +Pyrenees.</p> +<p><i>London Review</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>TITLES.</h3> +<p>Everybody knows that titles and dignities are not only integral +parts of the person, but its most distinctive attributes. When Earl +Grey said he would stand or fall by his order, it was as if he had +said, he would stand or fall by himself. Take a noble lord, and, if +the process be possible, abstract him mentally from his titles and +privileges, and offer the two lots separately for sale in the +market, who would not buy the latter if they could? who would, in +most cases, even bid for the first? It is the title that is asked +everywhere to dinner; it is the title receives all the bows and +prostrations, that gets the nomination to so many places, that +commands the regiments and ships-of-war, and "robs the Exchequer +with unwashed hands." The man who owns it, may be what he can, an +honest man, or a scoundrel, a mushroom or an Howard, a scholar, or +a brute, a wit or a blockhead, <i>c'est égal</i>. Proud, +haughty, highdaring, free England, is not this true to the +letter?—<i>New Monthly Magazine</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<p>At Thetford, not far from his beloved Newmarket, James I. was +threatened with an action of trespass for following his game over a +farmer's corn.—<i>Quarterly Review</i>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page189" name="page189"></a>[pg +189]</span> +<h2>SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>"SIR DAN DANN'LY, THE IRISH HAROE."</h3> +<h4><i>From "Walks in Ireland," in the Monthly Magazine.</i></h4> +<p>In spite of all that yet remains, it must be admitted with a +sigh, that the glory of Donnybrook has departed in the person of +the renowned Daniel Donnelly, better known among his admiring +followers, by the sounding title of "Sir Dan Dann'ly, the Irish +haroe." Of course if you know any thing of the glorious science of +self-defence, a necessary accomplishment which I hope you have not +neglected amidst the general diffusion of knowledge which +distinguishes this happy age, of course if you have cultivated that +noble art which teaches us the superiority of practical +demonstration over theoretical induction, the recollection of that +celebrated champion must fill your mind with reverence for his +exploits, mingled with regret that he was snatched so soon from the +path of glory.</p> +<p>I was fortunate enough to possess the friendship of that great +man, and I esteem among the happiest days of my life, that on which +I was lucky enough to attract his attention: it was during a +<i>row</i> at Donnybrook Fair. I was defending myself with whatever +energy I possess, against overwhelming odds, when suddenly, as if +Mars himself had listened to my invocation, and descended to the +fray, Dan rushed from his tent to show fair play, and in an instant +my cowardly assailants fled, as if scattered by a whirlwind. From +that hour, gratitude on my part, and a consciousness of protection +on his, cemented an intimacy between us.</p> +<p>During the fair week, Dan Donnelly's tent (he always kept one +after he became a celebrated character) was always crowded to +excess by all classes, high and low; some attracted by admiration +of the good things of this life dispensed by the amiable Lady +Dann'ly, others by the convivial and facetious qualities of her +redoubted spouse; in the evening, especially, you were sure to find +him the centre of a circle of wondering listeners, detailing some +of his extraordinary adventures, the most astonishing of which it +was heresy in the eyes of his followers to doubt for an instant, +though my love of truth obliges me to confess, that one or two I +have heard him relate sounded a little apocryphal. But great and +extraordinary characters are not to be judged of by common rules; +for instance, his account of the manner in which he obtained the +honour of knighthood from the hands of our present gracious +sovereign, then Prince Regent, always appeared to me to differ in +some material circumstances from the ordinary routine of court +etiquette, and rather to resemble one of those amusing and +instructive narratives denominated fairy tales. But on this +delicate subject perhaps the safest course is to suffer the reader +to judge for himself: so without further circumlocution, I will +submit my lamented friend's account to his perusal, in the precise +words in which I have so often had the pleasure of hearing +it:—</p> +<p>"My jewels, I was lyin' in bed one mornin', restin' myself, in +regard ov bein' dhrunk the night afore, wid Scroggins an' Jack +Randall, an' some more ov the boys; an' as I was lyin' on the broad +ov my back, thinkin' ov nothin', a knock came to my door. 'Come +in,' says I, 'iv you're fat.' So the door opened sure enough, an' +in come a great big chap, dhressed in the most elegantest way ever +you see, wid a cockade in his hat, an' a plume ov feathers out ov +id, an' goolden epulets upon his shouldhers, an' tossels an' bobs +of goold all over the coat ov him, jist like any lord ov the land. +'Are you Dan Dann'ly,' says he;—'Throth an' I am,' says I; +'an' that's my name sure enough, for want ov a better; an' what do +ye want wid me now you've found me.'—'My masther is waitin' +to spake to ye, an' sint me to tell you to come down to his place +in a hurry.'—'An' who the devil <i>is</i> your masther?' says +I; 'an' didn't think ye had one, only yourself, an' you so +fine.'—'Oh,' says he, 'my masther is the Prence +Ragin.'—'Blur an' ouns,' says I; 'tell his honour I'll be wid +him in the twinklin' ov a bedpost, the minit I take my face from +behind my beard, an' get on my clane flax; but stop a bit,' says I; +'where does the masther live?'—'Down at Carltown Palace,' +says he; 'so make yourself dacent, an' be off wid yourself afther +me.' Wid that away he wint.</p> +<p>"Up I gets, an' away I goes, the instant minit I put on my duds, +down to Carltown Palace. An' it's it that's the place; twicet as +big as the castle, or Kilmainham gaol, an' groves ov threes round +about it, like the Phaynix Park. Up I goes to the gate, an' I gives +a little asy rap to show I wasn't proud; who should let me in but +the 'dentical chap that come to ax me up. 'Well, Dan,' says he, +'you didn't let the grass <span class="pagenum"><a id="page190" +name="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> grow undher your feet; the +masther's waitin', so away in wid ye as fast as ye can.'—'An' +which way will I go?' says I.—'Crass the yard,' says he, 'an' +folley your nose up through the house, ever 'till you come to the +dhrawin'-room door, an' then jist rap wid your knuckle, an' ye'll +get lave to come in.' So away I wint acrass the yard, an' it's +there the fun was goin' on, soldiers marchin', and fiddlers +playin', and monkeys dancin', an' every kind ov diversion, the same +as ourselves here at Donnybrook Fair, only it lasts all the year +round, from mornin' till night, I'm tould.</p> +<p>"When I come to the house, in I wint, bowin' an' doin' my +manners in the most genteelest way to all the grand lords an' +ladies that was there, folleyin' their own divarsion, the same as +thim that was in the yard, every way they liked—dhrinkin', +an' singin', an' playin' ov music, and dancin' like mad! I wint on, +on, on, out ov one room an' into another, till my head was fairly +addled, an' I thought I'd never come to the ind. And sich +grandeur!—why, the playhouse was nothin' to id. At last I +come to a beautiful big stairs, an' up I wint; an' sure enough +there was the drawin'-room door, reachin' up to the ceilin' almost, +an' as big as the gate ov a coach-house, an' wrote on a board over +the door, 'No admittance for strangers, only on +business.'—'Sure,' says I, 'I'm come on the best ov business, +whin the Prence is afther sendin' his man to tell me to come on a +visit.'—An' wid that I gave a knock wid my knuckle the way I +was bid. 'Come in,' says a voice; and so I opened the door.</p> +<p>"Oh! then, ov all the sights ever I see, an' it's that was the +finest! There was the Prence Ragin' himself, mounted up upon his +elegant throne, an' his crown, that was half a hundred weight ov +goold, I suppose, on his head, an' his sceptre in his hand, an' his +lion sittin' on one side ov him, an' his unicorn on the +other.—'Morrow, Dan,' says he, 'you're welcome +here.'—'Good morning, my Lord,' says I, 'plase your +Reverence.'—'An' what do you think ov my place,' says he, +'Dan, now you're in it?'—'By Dad! your worship,' says I, 'it +bates all the places ever I see, an' there's not the like ov id for +fun in the wide world, barrin' Donnybrook Fair.'—'I never was +at the fair,' says he, 'bud I'm tould there's plenty ov sport there +for them that has money, an' is able to take their own part in a +row.'—'Throth, Majesty,' says I, 'your honour may say that; +an' iv your holiness 'ill come an' see us there, it's myself that +'ill give you a dhrop ov what's good, an' show ye all the divarsion +ov the place—ay, an' leather the best man in the fair, that +dare say, Black is the white ov your eye!'—'More power to ye, +Dan!' says he, laughin'; 'an' what id you like to dhrink +now?'—'Oh, by Gor!' says I, 'I'm afeard to take any thing, +for I was dhrunk last night, an' I'm not quite study +yet.'—'By the piper that played afore Moses,' says he, 'ye'll +not go out ov my house till ye dhrink my health;' so wid that he +mounted down off his throne, an' wint to a little black cupboard he +had snug in the corner, an' tuck out his gardy vine an' a couple of +glasses. 'Hot or cowld, Dan?' says he.—'Cowld, plase your +reverence,' says I. So he filled a glass for me, an' a glass for +himself.—'Here's towards ye, Dan,' says he.—'The same +to you, Majesty!' says I;—an' what do ye think it was? May I +never tell a lie iv id wasn't as good whiskey as ever you see in +your born days. 'Well,' says I, 'that's as fine sperits as ever I +dhrunk, for sperits like id; might I make bould to ax who does your +worship dale wid?'—'Kinahan, in Dublin,' says he.—'An' +a good warrant he is,' says I: so we wint on, dhrinkin' and +chattin', till at last, 'Dan,' says he, 'I'd like to spar a round +wid ye.' 'Oh,' says I, 'Majesty, I'd be afeard ov hurtin' ye, +without the gloves.'—'Arrah, do you think it's a brat ov a +boy ye're spakin' to?' says he; 'do ye're worst, Dan, and divil may +care!' An' so wid that we stud up.</p> +<p>"Do you know he has a mighty purty method ov his own, bud thin, +though id might do wid Oliver, it was all nonsense wid me, so afore +you could say Jack Lattin, I caught him wid my left hand undher the +ear, an' tumbled him up on his throne. 'There now,' says I, +'Majesty, I tould ye how id would be, but you'd never stop until +you got yourself hurt.'—'Give us your fist, Dan,' says he, +'I'm not a bit the worse of the fall; you're a good man, an' I'm +not able for you.'—'That's no disgrace,' says I, 'for it's +few that is; but iv I had you in thrainin' for six months, I'd make +another man ov ye;' an' wid that we fell a dhrinkin' again, ever +till we didn't lave a dhrop in the bottle; an' then I thought it +was time to go, so up I got.—'Dan,' says he, 'before you lave +me I'll make you a knight, to show I have no spite again ye for the +fall.'—'Oh,' says I, 'for the matter ov that, I'm sure ye're +too honourable a gintleman to hould spite for what was done in fair +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page191" name="page191"></a>[pg +191]</span> play, an' you know your reverence wouldn't be easy +until you had a thrial ov me.'—'Say no more about id, Dan,' +says he, laughin', 'bud kneel down upon your bended knees.' So down +I kneeled.—'Now,' says he, 'ye wint down on your marrow bones +plain Dan, but I give ye lave to get up Sir Dan Dann'ly, +Esquire.'—'Thank your honour,' says I, 'an' God mark you to +grace wherever you go.' So wid that we shook hands, an' away I +wint. Talk of your kings and prences, the Prence Ragin' is the +finest Prence ever I dhrunk wid."</p> +<hr /> +<h3>I'D BE A PARODY.</h3> +<h4>BY THOMAS HAYNES BAYLEY.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I'd be a Parody, made by a ninny</p> +<p class="i2">On some little song with a popular tune,</p> +<p>Not worth a halfpenny, sold for a guinea,</p> +<p class="i2">And sung in the Strand by the light of the moon.</p> +<p>I'd never sigh for the sense of a Pliny,</p> +<p class="i2">(Who cares for sense at St. James's in June?)</p> +<p>I'd be a Parody, made by a ninny,</p> +<p class="i2">And sung in the Strand by the light of the moon.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! could I pick tip a thought or a stanza,</p> +<p class="i2">I'd take a flight on another bard's wings,</p> +<p>Turning his rhymes into extravaganza,</p> +<p class="i2">Laugh at his harp—and then pilfer its +strings!</p> +<p>When a poll-parrot can croak the cadenza</p> +<p class="i2">A nightingale loves, he supposes he sings!</p> +<p>Oh, never mind, I will pick up a stanza,</p> +<p class="i2">Laugh at his harp—and then pilfer its +strings!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What though you tell me each metrical puppy</p> +<p class="i2">Might make of such parodies <i>two pair a +day</i>;</p> +<p>Mocking birds think they obtain for each copy</p> +<p class="i2">Paradise plumes for the parodied lay:—</p> +<p>Ladder of fame! if man <i>can't</i> reach thy top, he</p> +<p class="i2">Is right to sing just as high up as he may;</p> +<p>I'd be a Parody, made by a puppy,</p> +<p class="i2">Who makes of such parodies two pair a day!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em"><i>Sharpe's +Magazine</i>.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE ANECDOTE GALLERY.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>VISIT TO FERNEY IN 1829.</h3> +<h4><i>Sharpe's London Magazine</i>, (No, 3.),</h4> +<p>Contains a pleasant article under the above title, describing +the present state of Ferney, the residence of Voltaire, an +engraving of which appeared in our No. 384. We would willingly have +made the journey, and written our description in the Poet's +<i>salon</i>, could we have "stayed time;" but as the old dials +quaintly tell us, time "tarryeth for no man," and we were then +compelled to adopt the most recent description.</p> +<p>Such of this last "Visit to Ferney" as relates to the +Château will therefore be interesting, as a supplement to our +previous illustration:—</p> +<p>"The road leading from Geneva to this celebrated spot is +delightful, bordered on each side with superb villas, and +presenting picturesque points of view only to be found in the +environs of that enchanting city. A handsome avenue conducts the +traveller to the château, the architecture of which is +nothing very remarkable. After mounting three steps, and crossing a +narrow vestibule, we entered the <i>salon</i>, which in its day +received most of the wits and celebrated personages of Europe: for +as a contemporary of Voltaire observed, 'to have been admitted at +Ferney, is to have taken out a patent for genius.' The appearance +of this salon is far from brilliant: a few indifferent pictures, +some old red tapestry, and antiquated furniture compose the whole +of its ornaments. To the left we entered the chamber of +Voltaire.</p> +<p>"On one side of the apartment an humble mausoleum has been +reared, the sanctity of which was not however respected by the +sabres of the Austrians. The inscription on the top (a happy +inspiration of the husband of Mademoiselle Varicourt), contains +these simple words: 'Mon coeur est ici; et mon esprit est partout.' +The most elaborate panegyric could not have conveyed a finer +eulogium.</p> +<p>"On entering, the spectator is struck with the view of a bed of +simple materials, and which was pillaged by the Austrians. Hung +round the room are the portraits of Frederick, of Catharine, of +Lekain—one of Voltaire himself, taken at the age of forty, +and full of expression, with a number of <i>silhouettes</i> of the +celebrated men of the day.</p> +<p>"The window of this apartment looks upon the gardens, and upon a +little wood, which has undergone many changes since the death of +Voltaire. Time however has hitherto respected a long and thick row +of elm trees, whither he was wont to repair at sunrise, and where +he usually meditated and recited aloud the scenes of his tragedies +when finished, to any one whom he could find. His jealousy of +criticism on such occasions is matter of record.</p> +<p>"The gardener at present belonging to the château was +there during the latter period of Voltaire's life, and related to +us with much <i>naïveté</i> several anecdotes, not +generally known, of his master.</p> +<p>"Where the thickly-spreading branches of the elm trees present +the slightest opening, the spectator enjoys one of the most +beautiful views that can be imagined. In the distance, that giant +of the hills—Mont Blanc, crowned with its eternal snows, +rises majestically. At the base of the mountain the eye is +gratified with the sight of variegated plains, smiling with +verdure, and cultivated with the <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page192" name="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span> most industrious care. +The Rhone with its silver stream floats through the beautiful +country that surrounds Geneva, which may be said to describe an +amphitheatre just above the lake.</p> +<p>"A spacious park, not far from the château, usually formed +the termination of Voltaire's rambles: in its cool shades he +delighted to indulge his poetic meditations. To this place he was +in the habit of driving daily in a little open calèche, +drawn by a favourite black mare. The space which separates the park +from the château, and which forms a gentle acclivity, is +planted with vines."</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE GATHERER.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."</p> +<p class="i4">SHAKSPEARE.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A WELSH RABBIT.</h3> +<p>Colonel A—— baiting for the first time in his life +at a Welsh inn, thought he would order for his dinner, a dish which +<i>must</i> be perfection in its own country: viz. a <i>Welsh +rabbit</i>. The dinner hour arrived, and the colonel lifting up the +cover of the dish next him, exclaimed in angry astonishment to the +waiter, upon beholding a large, dry-looking, fleshy animal before +him. "What the d——l d'ye call <i>this</i>, a Welsh +rabbit?" "Why, noo, noo, Sir!" replied the man, perfectly cool, and +unconscious of the error, "Noo, it certainly an't exactly a +<i>Welsh</i> rabbit, but 'tis a <i>Monmouthshire</i> one!"</p> +<p>J.R.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ODD MEAL.</h3> +<p>The celebrated David Hartley entertained, at his apartments in +Merton College, of which he was fellow, a party of his friends; +they all dined well, <i>comme de raison</i>; and there was every +likelihood that the evening would conclude with the utmost +festivity, when a letter was brought to the naturalist; after due +apology, he opened and read it; then starting up, he rushed out of +the room. He soon returned, with horror on his face and a basketful +of feathers in his hand; "Gentlemen, what do you think we have been +eating?" Some of the guests began to fear they had been poisoned; +even the boldest felt qualms. "Oh! that the letter had but arrived +before the bird!" Then holding up some of the feathers, and letting +them fall into the basket to display them to the company, he +relieved their apprehensions, while he revealed the cause of his +own grief, "we have eaten a nondescript." Though no blame could +attach to him, there was something in all appearance so +disreputable in the untoward accident by which, under his auspices, +a scientific object had been treated in so vulgar a manner, that +Hartley did not quickly recover from the mortification.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE COMEDY OF LIFE.</h3> +<p>The world is the stage; men are the actors; the events of life +form the piece; fortune distributes the parts; religion governs the +performance; philosophers are the spectators; the opulent occupy +the boxes; the powerful the amphitheatre; and the pit is for the +unfortunate; the disappointed snuff the candles; folly composes the +music; and time draws the curtain.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>DUKE OF GRAFTON.</h3> +<p>The late duke, when hunting, was thrown into a ditch, at the +same time a young curate called out, "<i>Lie still, my lord</i>," +leaped over him, and continued the chase. Such apparent want of +feeling, might be presumed, was properly resented. But on being +helped out by his attendants, his grace said, "<i>that man shall +have the first good living that falls to my disposal, had he +stopped to have taken care of me I would never have given him any +thing:</i>" his grace being delighted with an ardour similar to his +own, or with a spirit that would not stoop to flatter.</p> +<p>C.C.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Be ignorance thy choice when knowledge leads to woe.</p> +<hr /> +<p><i>LIMBIRD'S EDITIONS.</i></p> +<p>CHEAP and POPULAR WORKS published at the MIRROR OFFICE in the +Strand, near Somerset House.</p> +<p>The ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS, Embellished with nearly 150 +Engravings. In 6 Parts, 1s. each.</p> +<p>The TALES of the GENII. Price 2s.</p> +<p>The MICROCOSM. By the Right Hon. G. CANNING. &c. 4 Parts, +6d. each.</p> +<p>PLUTARCH'S LIVES, with Fifty Portraits, 12 Parts, 1s. each.</p> +<p>COWPER'S POEMS, with 12 Engravings, 12 Numbers, 3d. each.</p> +<p>COOK'S VOYAGES, 28 Numbers, 3d. each.</p> +<p>The CABINET of CURIOSITIES: or, WONDERS of the WORLD DISPLAYED. +27 Nos. 2d. each.</p> +<p>BEAUTIES of SCOTT. 2 vols. price 7s. boards.</p> +<p>The ARCANA of SCIENCE for 1828. Price 4s. 6d.</p> +<p>*** Any of the above Works can be purchased in Parts.</p> +<p>GOLDSMITH'S ESSAYS. Price 8d.</p> +<p>DR. FRANKLIN'S ESSAYS. Price 1s. 2d.</p> +<p>BACON'S ESSAYS Price 8d.</p> +<p>SALMAGUNDI. Price 1s. 8d.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name= +"footnote1"></a> <b>Footnote 1</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag1">(return)</a> +<p>The intelligent friend from whose conversation the writer +gleaned the following account, has resided three years in Genoa, +and therefore is fully competent to speak of the customs of its +inhabitants. This paper is derived from the same source as that +entitled "<i>A Recent Visit to Pompeii</i>."—Vide MIRROR, vol +xiii p. 276.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name= +"footnote2"></a> <b>Footnote 2</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag2">(return)</a> +<p>The Nautilus, or Sailor-shell, is said to be the origin of Music +and Navigation.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote3" name= +"footnote3"></a> <b>Footnote 3</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag3">(return)</a> +<p>Exodus, xxxiv. 33, 34, and 35.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote4" name= +"footnote4"></a> <b>Footnote 4</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag4">(return)</a> +<p>In connexion with the decay of this venerable pile, we notice +with sincere regret the recent and premature death of Mr. George +Gwilt, jun., who assisted his father in the restoration of the +tower and the choir of St. Saviour's, (see MIRROR, vol. xiii p. +227.) Though little advanced in his 27th year, he had already +proved an honour to his family and his profession of an architect, +by the production of a design for the restoration of the church, +for which a premium of one hundred guineas was awarded to him about +five years since. Of his excellent disposition and many good +qualities as a friend and associate, we are enabled to speak with +equal confidence; and seldom has it been our lot to meet with so +much good sense and correct taste in an individual as we were wont +to enjoy in the society of the deceased. This is far from a full +eulogium on his merits; but as the above extract, presented an +opportunity, we could not omit this slight tribute to the memory of +A LAMENTED FRIEND.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11411 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/11411-h/images/390-1.png b/11411-h/images/390-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c92d88 --- /dev/null +++ b/11411-h/images/390-1.png |
