Title: The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction - Volume 17, No. 495, June 25, 1831
Author: Various
Language: English
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AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION, VOL. 17, ISSUE 495, JUNE 25, 1831***


THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

VOL. 17, No. 495.] SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 1831. [PRICE 2d.



       *       *       *       *       *



HERMITAGE AT FROGMORE.

[Illustration]


Frogmore is one of the most delightful of the still retreats of
Royalty. It was formerly the seat of the Hon. Mrs. Egerton, of whom it
was purchased by Queen Charlotte, in 1792, who made considerable
additions to the house and gardens. The grounds were laid out by Uvedale
Price, Esq. a celebrated person in the annals of picturesque gardening.
The ornamental improvements were made by the direction of the Princess
Elizabeth, (now Landgravine of Hesse Homburg,) whose taste for rural
quiet we noticed in connexion with an Engraving of Her Royal Highness'
Cottage, adjoining Old Windsor churchyard. [1]

    [1]: See _Mirror_, No 475.

Frogmore occupies part of a fertile valley, which divides the Little
Park from Windsor Forest, and comprises about thirteen acres. Mr.
Hakewill describes it as "diversified with great skill and taste, and a
piece of water winds throughout it with a pleasing variety of turn and
shape. The trees and shrubs, both native and exotic, which spread their
shade and diffuse their fragrance, are disposed with the best effect;
while buildings are so placed as to enliven and give character to the
general scene. The Ruin was designed by Mr. James Wyatt, and being
seated on the bank of the water, as well as in part in the wood, it
presents, with its creeping ivy and fractured buttresses, a most
pleasing object from various points of the garden. The _Hermitage (see
the Engraving)_ is a small circular thatched building, completely
embowered in lofty trees, and was constructed from a drawing of the
Princess Elizabeth. There is also a Gothic Temple, sacred to solitude,
and a well-imagined and picturesque barn, which heighten the appropriate
scenery. Too much cannot be said of the secluded beauty of this charming
spot, and nothing further need be said of the taste and judgment of
Major Price, to whom its arrangements have been entrusted."

The _Hermitage_ contains a tablet spread with fruit, eggs, and bread,
and a figure of a hermit reading the Scriptures; at the entrance are
the following lines, written on the marriage of the Princess Royal:--

  Ye whom variety delights,
  Descend awhile from Windsor's heights,
  And in this hovel deign to tread,
  Quitting the castle for the shed;
  Such were the muse's favourite haunts,
  From care secluded and from wants.
  What nature needs this but can give,
  Could we as nature dictates live;
  For see, on this plain board at noon
  Are placed a platter and a spoon,
  Which, though they mark no gorgeous treat,
  Suggest 'tis reasonable to eat.
  What though the sun's meridian light
  Beams not on our hovel bright,
  Though others need, we need him not,
  Coolness and gloom befit a cot.
  Our hours we count without the sun.
  These sands proclaim them as they run,
  Sands within a glass confined,
  Glass which ribs of iron bind;
  For Time, still partial to this glass,
  Made it durable as brass,
  That, placed secure upon a shelf,
  None might crush it but himself.
  Let us here the day prolong
  With loyal and with nuptial song,
  Such as, with duteous strains addrest,
  May gratify each royal guest;
  Thrice happy, should our rural toils
  Be requited by their smiles.

There are other affectionate testimonials in the grounds. The Gothic
ruin contains an apartment fitted up as an oratory, ornamented with a
copy of the Descent from the Cross, modelled in chalk, after the
celebrated painting by Rembrandt; busts of George III. and the Duke of
Kent; a posthumous marble figure of an infant child of his present
Majesty; and an alto-relievo representing an ascending spirit attended
by a guardian angel with the inscription--

             Monumental Tablet
               To the Memory
                   of
  Her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte.


       *       *       *       *       *


ANCIENT WAGES TO MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT.

(_For the Mirror._)


Chamberlayne, in his _Angliæ Notitia_, says, "Although the lords of
parliament are to bear their own charges, because they represent there
only themselves; yet all the commons, both lay and clergy, that is,
_Procuratores Cleri_, are to have _rationales expensus_, (as the words
of the writ are) that is, such allowance as the king considering the
prices of all things, shall judge meet to impose upon the people to pay.
In the 17th of Edward II. it was ten groats for knights, and five groats
for burgesses; but not long after it was four shillings for all others,
which in those days, as appears by the prices of all things, was a
considerable sum, above ten times more than it is now, (1688) for not
only then expenses were considered, though that was great by reason of
the suitable attendance that then every parliament-man had, but also
their pains, their loss of time, and necessary neglect of their own
private affairs for the service of their country; and when the counties,
cities, and boroughs paid so dear for their expenses, they were wont to
take care to chuse such men as were best able, and most diligent in the
speedy despatch of affairs; by which means, with some others, more
business in those times was despatched in parliament in a week, than is
now perhaps in ten; so that the protections for parliament-men and their
servants from arrests were not then grievous, when scarce any parliament
or sessions lasted so long as one of the four terms at Westminster.

"The aforementioned expenses duly paid, did cause all the petty decayed
boroughs of England to become humble suitors to the king, that they
might not be obliged to send burgesses to parliament; whereby it came to
pass, that divers were unburgessed, as it was in particular granted to
_Chipping_, or _Market-Morriton_, upon their petition; and then the
number of the _Commons House_ being scarce half so many as at present,
then debates and bills were sooner expedited." page 156, 21st. edit.

Halsted, in his _History of Kent_, tells us, "The pay of the burgesses
of Canterbury was fixed (anno 1411) at two shillings a-day for each,
while such burgess was absent from his family attending his duty. In
1445 the wages were no more than twelve pence a-day; two years
afterwards they were increased to sixteenpence, and in 1503 had again
been raised to two shillings. In Queen Mary's reign, the corporation
refused to continue this payment any longer, and the wages of the
members were then levied by assessment on the inhabitants at large, and
continued to be so raised till these kinds of payments were altogether
discontinued."

P.T.W.


       *       *       *       *       *


THE WORD "EI."

(_For the Mirror._)


This word, which was engraven on the temple of Apollo, at Delphi, has
occasioned much controversy among the literati. The learned and
admirable Plutarch tells us that it means "thou art" as if "thou art
one." The Langhornes, in their life of this philosopher, [2] attack his
opinion as inconsistent with "the whole tenour of the Heathen
Mythology." It in to be observed, that the Greek word for priests is
"[Greek: iereis]" (iereis). But I infer nothing from this; yet at the
same time it is a remarkable circumstance. The objection of the
Langhornes is frivolous; for the sun (Apollo) in most nations, was
considered chief of the gods, and this inscription was placed to prove
his _superiority and unity_.

    [2] Langhorne's Plutarch, vol. i. p. xv.--Limbird's edition.

It is a very remarkable circumstance, that when the Pythia refused to
enter the temple, at the application of Alexander, "Philip's godlike
son," and he attempting to force her in, she exclaimed--"[Greek:
Anikaetos ei o pai]" (My son, you are invincible.) Now, probably, she
had some other intention in using that word; but, however, that does not
affect the argument. I cannot but consider that Plutarch is right.

B.K.


       *       *       *       *       *


A FAREWELL TO SPAIN.

    FOR MUSIC.

(_For the Mirror._)


  Land of the myrtle and the vine,
    The sunny citron-tree,
  With heart upon the waves I give
    My latest look to thee.

  Thy glorious scenes of vale and hill
    With joy I now resign,
  And seek a more congenial land,
    Where Freedom will be mine.

  Farewell! thou hast the iron sway
    Of bigots and of slaves,
  But mine shall be a chainless heart
    Upon the dark blue waves.

  For thee our sires have fought and died,
    For thee their blood have given,
  When tyrants o'er the trampled field
    Like thunder-clouds were driven.

  And has the purple tide in vain,
    From hill and vale been poured,
  Or do the hopes of Freedom sleep
    With mighty Mina's sword?

  Oh! no--the trumpet-voice of war,
    Shall proudly sound again,
  And millions shall obey its call,
    And break their chartered chain!

  Till then, my native hearth and home
    I'll joyfully resign;
  Farewell! thou song-enchanted land
    Of myrtle and of vine.

  _Deal_.            G.K.C.


       *       *       *       *       *


THE DEATH-BEDS OF GREAT MEN.

(_For the Mirror._)


If there are any remarks which deserve to be recorded for the benefit of
mankind, they are those which have been expressed on a dying bed, when,
unfettered by prejudice or passion, Truth shines forth in her real
colours. Sir John Hawkins has recorded of Dr. Johnson, that when
suffering under that disease which ended in his dissolution, he
addressed his friends in the following words:--"You see the state I am
in, conflicting with bodily pain and mental distraction. While you are
in health and strength, labour to do good, and avoid evil, if ever you
wish to escape the distress that oppresses me."

When Lord Lyttleton was on his death-bed, his daughter, Lady Valentia,
and her husband, came to see him. He gave them his solemn benediction,
adding--"Be good, be virtuous, my lord; you must come to this."

The triumphant death of Addison will be remembered with feelings of
pleasure by all. Having sent for the young Earl of Warwick, he
affectionately pressed his hand, saying--"See in what peace a Christian
can die!"

The father of William Penn was opposed to his son's religious
principles; but finding that he acted with sincerity, was at last
reconciled. When dying, he adjured him to do nothing contrary to his
conscience--"So," said he, "you will keep peace within, which will be a
comfort in the day of trouble."

Locke, the day before his death, addressed Lady Masham, who was sitting
by his bedside, exhorting her to regard this world only as a state of
preparation for a better. He added, that he had lived long enough, and
expressed his gratitude to God for the happiness that had fallen to his
lot.

Tillotson, when dying, thanked his Maker that he felt his conscience at
ease, and that he had nothing further to do but to await the will of
Heaven.

Sir Walter Raleigh behaved on the scaffold with the greatest composure.
Having vindicated his conduct in an eloquent speech, he felt the edge of
the axe, observing with a smile--"It is a sharp medicine, but a sure
remedy, for all woes." Being asked which way he would lay himself on the
block, he replied--"So the heart be right, it is no matter which way the
head lies."

Latimer, when he beheld a fagot ready kindled laid at Ridley's feet,
exclaimed--"Be of good cheer, master Ridley, and play the man; we shall
this day light such a candle in England, as I hope, by God's grace,
shall never be put out."

The author of Hervey's Meditations, when on his sick bed, observed that
his time had been too much occupied in reading the historians, orators,
and poets of ancient and modern times; and that were he to renew his
studies, he would devote his attention to the Scriptures.

The last words which the eminent physician Haller addressed to his
medical attendant expressed the calm serenity of his mind. "My friend,"
said he, laying his hand on his pulse, "the artery no longer beats."

M. De La Harpe, one of the first literary characters of the last
century, who for many years laboured to spread the principles of the
French philosophy, but afterwards became a most strenuous defender of
Christianity, on the evening preceding his death was visited by a
friend. He was listening to the Prayers for the Sick; as soon as they
were concluded, he stretched forth his hand and said--"I am grateful to
Divine mercy, for having left me sufficient recollection to feel how
consoling these prayers are to the dying."

Cardinal Wolsey, when dying, by slow progress and short journeys,
reached Leicester Abbey. He was received with the greatest respect. His
only observation was, "Father Abbot, I am come to lay my bones among
you." He died three days after, with, great composure and fortitude. He
said, shortly before his death--"Had I but served my God as diligently
as I have served the king, he would not have forsaken me in my grey
hairs; but this is the just reward I must receive for my pains and
study, in not regarding my service to God, but only to my prince."

Melancthon, a few days before his death, although extremely debilitated,
delivered his usual lecture. At the termination of it, he said,
impressively--"I am a dying man, and these are the three subjects for
intercession with God, which I leave to my children and their little
ones--that they may form part of his church, and worship him
aright--that they may be one in him, and live in harmony with each
other--and that they may be fellow-heirs of eternal life." The day
before his death, he addressed some present--"God bestows talents on our
youth, do you see that they use them aright." While dying, his friends
discerned a slight motion of the countenance, which was peculiar to him
when deeply affected by religious joy.

W.


       *       *       *       *       *



THE NOVELIST.


OSMYN AND ZAMBRI.

_A Persian Tale. From the French._

(_From a Correspondent._)


A worthy old Persian having arrived at the end of an irreproachable
life, experienced in his last moments the greatest uneasiness for the
fate of his two sons, whom he was about to leave without fortune,
without a livelihood, and without a prospect. The elder called Osmyn,
was twenty years of age, and the younger, eighteen, bore the name of
Zambri.

As the old man drew near his last hour, he thought much less of his own
sufferings than of the fate of his children, when his ear was agreeably
struck with a soft and melodious voice, which said to him, "Fear
nothing, old man, I will watch over your children; die in peace as thou
hast lived. I bring a present for each of your sons; let them make good
use of it, and one day perhaps they may be re-united, and live in
happiness."

At these words a balsamic odour spread itself in the cottage, and a
bright light discovered to the view of the astonished Persian, the
features of a young man, whose expressive countenance had in it
something celestial. It was a beneficent genius, who after having
deposited his presents on the bed of the old man, vanished like
lightning. The old man called his two sons, they ran eagerly towards him
with a light, and approached the bed of their father, who related to
them the visit he had been honoured with, and showed them the presents
of the genius. On one side was a small box covered with brilliant
spangles; on the other a sheet of paper carefully sealed. "Come Osmyn,"
said the old man, "you are the eldest, it is for you to choose."

Osmyn attracted by the richness of the box, chose it with eagerness, and
poor Zambri was obliged to be contented with the humble envelope. The
old man embraced them, blessed them, and died as one resigning himself
to the arms of hope. After having wept sincerely the death of so good a
father, and having rendered the last offices to his remains, the two
brothers were anxious to know what aid they should find in the presents
of the genius. Osmyn opened his little box and found it filled with
pastilles of divers forms and colours. He was almost tempted to laugh at
the meanness of such a gift, when he perceived these words written on
the lid of the box--"_Each time that thou eatest one of these pastilles,
thine imagination will bring forth a poem perfect in all its parts,
sublime and delicate in its details, such in short as will surpass the
ablest works of the best Persian poets._"

Osmyn did not want vanity; the possession of so fine a secret failed not
to turn his young brain, and a hundred illusions of fortune and glory
presented themselves at once to his imagination.

From the value of the present given by the genius to his brother, Zambri
doubted not that his paper contained also some marvellous secret. He
opened it and read with as much surprise as sorrow--"_A new Receipt for
preparing Sherbet._" Some lines pointed out the method of composing a
liquor, of which one drop only being infused in a bowl of Sherbet, would
give it a taste and perfume hitherto unknown to the most voluptuous
Asiatics.

Osmyn was overjoyed, and Zambri was in despair; Osmyn wished not to quit
his brother, but the orders of the genius were imperative. The two
brothers embraced each other tenderly, shed tears, and separated. The
eldest took the road to Bagdad, where all the learned, and all the poets
of Asia were assembled to attend the court of the Caliph. As to poor
Zambri, he quitted the cottage of his father, carrying nothing with him
but _the humble receipt for preparing Sherbet_, and leaving to chance
the direction of his course.

Before his arrival at Bagdad, Osmyn had already eaten half-a-dozen of
the pastilles, and consequently carried with him half-a-dozen poems,
beside which were to fade the productions of the greatest Eastern poets.
But he soon found that pretenders to talent often succeed better than
those who really possess it. He felt the necessity of connecting himself
with literary men, and men of the world; but he only found them occupied
with their business, their pleasures, or their own pretensions. Under
what title could he present himself? Under that of a poet? The court and
the city overflowed with them; they had already filled every avenue. To
consult his fellows would be to consult his rivals; to ask their praises
would be to ask a miser for his treasures. Besides, so many books
appeared, that people did not care to read. However, Osmyn's works were
published, but they were not even noticed in the multitude of similar
productions.

After having vegetated four or five years at Bagdad, without obtaining
anything but weak encouragement given by wise men, (who are without
influence because they are wise,) poor Osmyn began to lose the brilliant
hopes that formerly had dazzled him. However, by dint of eating the
pastilles, he at last attracted some notice. If it requires time for
genius to emerge from obscurity, no sooner is it known than recompense
is made for slow injustice. It is sought after not for itself, but for
the sake of vanity. Envy often avails itself of it as a fit instrument
subservient to its own purposes. Soon, in fact, the works of Osmyn only
were spoken of, and after languishing a long time unnoticed, he saw
himself at once raised to the pinnacle, without having passed the steps
which lead from misery to fortune, from obscurity to glory.

The Caliph desired to see so great a genius, and to possess him at his
court. Osmyn was overwhelmed with favours; he sung the praises of the
Caliph with a delicacy that other poets were far from being able to
imitate. The Caliph admired delicate praise the more because it is rare
at court.

So much merit and favour besides, soon created the jealousy of other
poets, and likewise of the courtiers. Even those, who had showed
themselves the most enthusiastic admirers of Osmyn's talents, feared to
see themselves eclipsed by this new comer, and resolved to destroy the
idol they had raised so much higher than they wished.

One of the poets, Osmyn's enemy, was employed to compose a satire
against the Caliph, and it was agreed that this should be circulated
under the favourite's name. From that time the avenger of the common
cause never quitted Osmyn, nor ceased to load him with praises and
caresses.

One day when Osmyn delivered an extempore poem before the Caliph, his
rival, after having warmly applauded him, cast down his eyes by
accident, and saw shining on the floor one of the pastilles that Osmyn,
who was led away by the vivacity of his declamation, had let fall by
mistake. The traitor snatched it up, and put it mechanically in his
mouth.

The pastille produced its effect; the poet felt a sudden inspiration,
left the hall and flew to compose the projected satire. He was surprised
at his own aptitude; the verses cost him no trouble, but flowed of
themselves. The bitterest expressions escaped from his pen without his
seeking for them. In short, in an instant, he brought forth a true
_chef-d'oeuvre_ of malice.

He continued some moments in ecstacy with his work, and carried it in
triumph to his friends--or rather to his accomplices. The satire was
received with the liveliest applause: it was the pure and vigorous style
of Osmyn. The writer had imitated his handwriting; and soon the libel
was spread about in his name.

Murmurs arose on all sides against the ingratitude of Osmyn. The satire
fell into the hands of the Caliph, who in his rage ordered the
unfortunate Osmyn to be stript of all his property, and driven from
Bagdad. Osmyn, overpowered by the blow, could not defend himself;
besides, how could he make his innocence heard amidst the cries of his
calumniators.

After having wandered a long time, every where imploring pity--sometimes
meeting with kindness, but oftener repulsed with selfishness--he
arrived, at nightfall, before a superb country house, magnificently
illuminated. He heard the accents of joy mingled with the sounds of a
brilliant concert of music, and saw all the signs of a splendid fête.
However, the thunder began to roll, the sky was obscured by heavy
clouds, and Osmyn's miserable clothing was soon drenched by the rain.

He approached this beautiful house, in hopes to find there, if not
hospitality for the night, at least an asylum for some minutes. The
slaves perceived him, and said to him harshly--"What do you ask,
beggar?"

"A humble shelter from the storm, a morsel of bread to appease my
hunger, and a little straw to rest my body on, borne down by fatigue."

"Thou shalt have none of these."

"For pity--"

"Begone!"

"See how it rains!--Hear how it thunders!"

"Go elsewhere, and come not to disturb by thy presence the pleasures of
our master."

Osmyn was on the point of obeying this order, when the master of the
house, who had witnessed this scene from a window, came down, called his
slaves, and ordered them to receive the unfortunate man, to procure him
clothes, a bed, and all he was in need of. "Misery," said he, "misery is
for him who revels in the presence of the poor, and suffers them to
plead for assistance in vain; and misfortune for the rich who, cloyed
with luxuries, refuse a morsel of bread to a famishing stranger. Poor
traveller, go and repose thyself, and may the Prophet send thee
refreshing slumbers, that thou mayst for a time forget thy sufferings."

"Oh Heaven!" cried Osmyn, "what voice strikes my ear? It is the
voice--the voice of Zambri!"

"Zambri! what! do you know him?"

"Heavens! do I know him?--Do I know my brother?"

"You my brother!" cried Zambri in his turn. "Can it be? That voice--those
features, disfigured by poverty and misery. Ah! I recognise you, my dear
Osmyn!"

No more need be said: he flew to embrace his brother; but Osmyn,
overcome by the excess of his joy, fell senseless at his feet.

He was conveyed into the finest apartment of the villa, every assistance
was afforded him, and he was soon restored. Zambri ordered him
magnificent apparel, and taking him by the hand, conducted him to the
banquet, and presented him to his friends. After the repast, Osmyn
related all the vicissitudes of his fortune, his long suffering, his
rapid glory, the jealousy and perfidy of his enemies, "But thou," added
he, "my dear Zambri, by what good fortune do I find you in such an
enviable situation? What! this beautiful house, this crowd of slaves,
these sumptuous ornaments!--to what dost thou owe them?"

"_To the receipt for preparing Sherbet,_" said Zambri, smiling. "Listen
to my story, it is very simple. Soon after we parted, I directed my
steps towards Teflis, where I sought only to gain a livelihood. On my
arrival, I went into the public places where the opulent people
assemble, to refresh themselves with ices and sherbet. I solicited
employment there, but was refused, and harshly sent away. Not knowing
what to do, and not having money to procure a subsistence, I went at
length to one of the obscure cafés, frequented by the lowest people. The
master of this wretched place, who was named Mehdad, agreed to accept my
services. I prepared a bottle of the liquor for which the good genius
had given me the receipt, but the ingredients of which, although cheap,
I had not before been able to purchase, and soon I found an immense
company crowding to Mehdad's café. The rich people also would take no
other; and Mehdad soon had before him the prospect of becoming opulent.

"He had a daughter; she was young and beautiful; I became enamoured of
her, and ventured to ask her hand. I had preserved the secret of my
receipt. Mehdad was ignorant that he owed his good fortune to me, and
believed that it was through his own talent. He rejected my offer with
disdain, and drove me from his house. Poor fellow! he was not the first
who, without knowing it, had driven good luck from his home.

"I had gained some money in his service; and I employed the fruit of my
economy in forming for myself an establishment in one of the public
gardens of Teflis, on the banks of the charming river Khur. Here I
erected a small, but elegant pavilion, and I sold my Sherbet to all the
promenaders of the garden. In a short time Mehdad, and all the cafés of
Teflis, were abandoned for my little pavilion. Zambri's Sherbet was
alone in demand: it was spoken of in all companies--it was taken at all
festivals. The garden of Zambri was crowded from morning till night. The
multitude was attracted towards my pavilion like swarms of flies towards
a honey-comb. I was compelled to erect a pavilion ten times larger than
the former, and I decorated it magnificently.

"A year had scarcely elapsed before I had acquired a considerable
fortune. I quitted my new establishment, returned to the city, and
purchased merchandize of all descriptions. I prepared a great quantity
of this favourite liquor, to which I owe all my wealth. I sent it to all
the cities of Persia, and into the most distant countries. Heaven seemed
to smile on my exertions. A beautiful widow, aged twenty years, saw and
loved me; I was not insensible to her charms. We made mutual vows of
attachment, and marriage crowned my happiness.

"We have acquired this charming retreat, and reside here during the most
beautiful season of the year, amongst our good friends, who, in
partaking our pleasures, add to them the charms of their society.

"How many times, dear Osmyn, have my thoughts been occupied with thee!
Often have I said, in the midst of my prosperity, Where is my
brother?--where dwells Osmyn? No doubt the invaluable secret he
possesses has gained him an immense fortune, and raised him to the
pinnacle of honour. But I see that in these times happiness,
tranquillity, and perhaps riches, are more easily obtained by humble and
modest employment, than by splendid abilities. In the course of my
transactions, I have met with vexations and disappointments. Sometimes
my Sherbet has been imitated; but the fraud has always been discovered,
and the intrigues of my rivals have added to my reputation. At length I
have found that it is easier to satisfy the caprice than the judgment of
mankind, and that those who could not understand the merits of a clever
work, would readily agree upon the subject of a delicious and agreeable
beverage."

Thus spoke the good Zambri: he strove affectionately to console Osmyn.
The two brothers separated no more; and, thanks to the _receipt for
preparing_ _Sherbet_, they lived long together amidst the pleasures
that wealth commands, and the still more true and solid happiness
procured by peace and friendship.


       *       *       *       *       *



THE NATURALIST.


BOTANY OF SHAKSPEARE.


At a recent meeting of the Medico-Botanical Society, a very interesting
dissertation on the medicinal plants which occur in the plays of
Shakspeare, from the pen of Mr. Rootsay, of Bristol, was read, and
excited considerable attention. The hebenon henbane alluded to in
_Hamlet_, the mandragora, the various plants so beautifully alluded to
in _Romeo and Juliet_, and in other dramas, were the subject of the
inquiry, and much classical information was displayed by the ingenious
author in the illustration of the subject. We hope to report more
respecting this very interesting paper to our readers.


      *       *       *       *       *


THE CUTTLE-FISH.


The following account of the _sepia media_, a small species of
cuttle-fish, is given by Mr. Donovan, in his "Excursion through South
Wales:"--"When first caught, the eyes, which are large and prominent,
glistened with the lustre of the pearl, or rather of the emerald, whose
luminous transparency they seemed to emulate. The pupil is a fine black,
and above each eye is a semilunar mark of the richest garnet. The body,
nearly transparent, or of a pellucid green, is glossed with all the
variety of prismatic tints, and thickly dotted with brown. At almost
every effort of respiration, the little creature tossed its arms in
apparent agony, and clung more firmly to the finger; while the
dark-brown spots upon the body alternately faded and revived,
diminishing in size till they were scarcely perceptible, and then
appearing again as large as peas, crowding, and becoming confluent
nearly all over the body. At length, the animal being detained too long
from its native element, became enfeebled, the colours faded, the spots
decreased in size, and all its pristine beauty vanished with the last
gasp of life."

W.G.C.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE OSTRICH.


The Ostriches in the Gardens of the Zoological Society would be truly a
noble pair, were it not for an unnatural curve in the neck of the male,
in consequence, it is said, of its having formerly swallowed something
more than usually bulky and hard of digestion.


       *       *       *       *       *



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

[Illustration]


RUSSIAN BURIAL GROUND.


Mr. James's popular Journal of a Tour in Russia, &c., has supplied the
above illustration of honours paid to the dead in that country. The Cut
represents one of the Cemeteries of the government of Tchernigoff. Mr.
James describes it as planted around with trees, and studded thick with
wooden crosses, oratories, and other permanent marks of reverence. The
general appearance of piety with which these grounds are kept up, their
sequestered situation apart from any town, the profound veneration with
which they are saluted by the natives, added to the dark and sepulchral
shade of the groves, lend them an interest with which the tinsel
ornaments of more gorgeous cemeteries can in no degree compare.


       *       *       *       *       *


ANCESTORS.


Some nations pay particular attention to the memory of their ancestors.
The Quojas, a people of Africa, offer sacrifices of rice and wine to
their ancestors, before they undertake any considerable action; and the
anniversaries of their death are always kept by their families with
great solemnity; the king invokes the souls of his father and mother to
make trade flourish and the chase succeed. But the Chinese have
distinguished themselves above all other nations, by the veneration in
which they hold their ancestors. Part of the duty, according to the laws
of Confucius, which children owe their parents, consists in worshipping
them when dead. They have a solemn and an ordinary worship for this
purpose, the former of which is held twice a year with great pomp, and
is described as follows by an eye witness:--The sacrifices were made in
a chapel, well adorned, where there were six altars, furnished with
censers, tapers, and flowers. There were three ministers, and behind
them two young acolites: he that officiated was an aged man, and a new
Christian. The three former went with a profound silence, and made
frequent genuflexions towards the five altars, pouring out wine;
afterwards they drew near to the sixth, and when they came to the foot
of the altar, half bowed down, they said their prayers with a low voice.
That being finished, the three ministers went to the altar; the priest
took up a vessel full of wine, and drank; then he lifted up the head of
a deer, or goat; after which, taking fire from the altar, they lighted a
bit of paper, and the minister of ceremonies turning towards the people,
said, with a high voice, that he gave them thanks in the name of their
ancestors, for having so well honoured them; and in recompense he
promised them, on their part, a plentiful harvest, a fruitful issue,
good health and long life, and all those advantages which are most
pleasing to men.

The Chinese have also in their houses a niche, or hollow place, in which
they put the names of their deceased fathers, to which they make prayers
and offerings of perfumes and spices at certain periods.

A.V.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE SELECTOR;
AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.


HISTORY OF POLAND.


This volume, a goodly octavo, will be peculiarly acceptable at the
present season. It presents a lucid view of Polish history, from the
earliest period to the present eventful moment; and, as a passage of
immediate interest, we quote the following character of the President of
the National Government of Poland:

    This illustrious personage, Prince Adam Czartoryski, is the
    eldest son of the late prince of the same house, and is
    descended from the family of Jagellon, the ancient sovereigns of
    Lithuania. His father was long known, not only as a nobleman of
    the first rank in Poland, but as one of the most accomplished
    scholars in Europe. Such was his reputation, that at the period
    of the last vacancy in the throne of Poland, Poniatowski
    (afterwards king) was deputed by the diet to propitiate the
    Empress Catherine, to second the election of Czartoryski; but
    the deputy's handsome form found such favour in the licentious
    eyes of the modern Messalina, that he ceased to urge the suit of
    the diet, and returned the avowed nominee of his imperial
    mistress. Prince Czartoryski's claims on the throne, popularity,
    and consequent influence, rendered him odious to the court of
    St. Petersburg, and when the last act of spoliation was
    perpetrated, his lands were ravaged, his beautiful Castle of
    Pulawy destroyed, and a sentence of extermination pronounced
    against him, unless he would consent to send his two sons, one
    the subject of this notice, and the other Prince Constantino
    Czartoryski, as hostages to St. Petersburg. To avoid this
    wretched alternative, the prince and his princess, who still
    survive, consented to the separation, and the two young
    noblemen, were placed under the eye of those who were deemed
    worthy, by the Autocrat, of reforming their principles. The
    talents displayed by both brothers soon obtained for them the
    admiration of the court; and as it was of great importance to
    gain them over, every mark of imperial favour was heaped upon
    them by the Emperor Alexander, with whom, from infancy, they had
    established terms of the utmost familiarity. The elder brother
    held for a long time the portfolio of the Foreign Office, and,
    in his official capacity, accompanied his imperial master to the
    scenes of some of his most serious disasters. During Napoleon's
    invasion, Prince Constantino was in Poland, and confiding in the
    integrity of the then master of the destinies of Europe, and
    breathing naught but freedom for his country, he joined the
    banners of the invader, and raised a regiment at his own expense
    to aid in the cause of liberation. At Smolensk he received a
    severe wound, from the effects of which he has never yet
    recovered. He resides at Vienna.

    The influence of Prince Adam Czartoryski proved to be singularly
    useful to Poland after the downfall of Napoleon. He interposed,
    and interposed successfully, between the anger of Alexander and
    his suffering country; and, on the establishment of the kingdom
    of Poland, was appointed the curator of all the universities,
    both there and in the incorporated provinces. These duties he
    sedulously discharged, until he was superseded by the notorious
    Count Novozilzoff. From this period he has lived in retirement,
    faithfully performing all the duties of private life. The
    promotion of agriculture, science in all its branches, and
    kindly offices among mankind, constituted his occupations until
    recent events drew him from his privacy. The first call was made
    by the Russian functionaries, as stated in the text, for the
    purpose of self-protection! the second was that of his devoted
    country, when a government was essential to success. He was
    chosen not only one of the five members of the executive body,
    but its president, a station which he still honourably fills.
    Into his new office he has carried all the unostentatious and
    disinterested virtues that adorned Pulawy, and there is little
    doubt that if (and no one suspects that such will not be the
    case) the independence of Poland be fairly won, the choice of
    his country will point to him as its sovereign. Having finished
    his academical career at the University of Edinburgh, he early
    acquired a strong taste for English institutions and for
    Englishmen, and of this he gave substantial proof by devoting
    250 l. a-year to the exclusive purchase of English books. His
    revenues are enormous; but his liberality is unbounded; and, as
    it is a rule in his munificent establishment to provide
    liberally for the families of all his dependants, his means are
    comparatively restricted, but his personal wants are few; and
    that he is ready to accommodate himself to circumstances, was
    well shown by his only observation on hearing of the
    confiscation of his large property in Podolia by Nicholas.
    "Instead of riding, I must walk, and instead of sumptuous fare,
    I must dine on buck-wheat."[3] Such is a faint outline of this
    illustrious man's character. Were it only for the admirable
    example of such an individual guiding the reigns of the
    government of a devoted people, it is most ardently to be hoped
    that Poland may triumph over her enemies, and be raised to that
    rank from which she was degraded only by the basest of
    treasons.--_Fletcher's History of Poland._

    [3] The common food of the poor.

As the pronunciation of the Polish language is attended with some
difficulty, the author of this work has, in his advertisement, subjoined
the following hints, taken principally from the "Letters Literary and
Political on Poland, Edinburgh, 1823."

All vowels are sounded as in French and Italian; and there are no
diphthongs, every vowel being pronounced distinctly. The consonants are
the same as in English, except

_w_, which is sounded like _v_, at the beginning of a word; thus,
Warsawa--_Varsafa_; in the middle or at the end of a word it has the
sound of _f_, as in the instance already cited; and Narew--_Nareff_.

_c_, like _tz_, and never like _k_; thus, Pac is sounded _Patz_.

_g_, like _g_ in Gibbon; thus, _Oginski_.

_ch_, like the Greek [Greek: ch] or _k_; thus, Lech--_Lek_.

_cz_, like the English _tch_ in pitch;--thus, Czartoryski pronounce
_Tchartoryski_.

_sz_, like _sh_ in _shape_; thus, Staszyc like _Stashytz_.

_szcz_, like _shtch_; thus, Szczerbiec like _Shtcherbietz_.

_rz_, like _j_ in _je_, with a slight sound of _r_; thus,
Rzewuski--_Rjevuski_.


       *       *       *       *       *


WHITE'S BAMPTON LECTURES.


Dr. Dibdin has prefixed the subsequent Note to one of these Lectures
(Character of Christ compared with that of Mahomet), which he has
reprinted in vol. iii. of the _Sunday Library_:--

    "Of all the sermons preached in this, or in any other country,
    THESE are perhaps the most celebrated; or, if this observation
    require qualification, the only exception may be in favour of
    those of the _Petit Carême_ of MASILLON. For three successive
    terms, the church of St. Mary's, at Oxford, was crowded with an
    auditory breathless in admiration of the splendour of diction
    and vividness of imagery manifested in these discourses. The
    subject treated of--'_A Comparison of Mahometanism and
    Christianity in their History, their Evidences, and their
    Effects_'--was new and striking in the pulpit of the University
    Church. A great deal of highly wrought expectation, from more
    than a whisper spread abroad of the sources whence the chief
    materials had been derived, preceded their publicity; and the
    preacher, although by no means remarkable for elegance of
    manner, or ductility and melody of voice, applied his whole
    energies to the task of giving power and effect to his delivery.
    He succeeded, greatly beyond his own expectations; and the
    University rung with his praises. The fame which ensued was
    merited; for the public, till then satisfied with the tame
    polish and cold invective of BLAIR, became delighted by the
    union of such harmony of language, skilfulness of argument, and
    singularity of research, as were blended in these lectures. Yet
    it may be questioned, not only whether a display of similar
    talent would _now_ receive the like applause, but whether many
    subsequent courses of Bampton lectures have not rendered a more
    essential service to Christianity.

    "But, extraordinary as was the result of the _preaching_ of
    these Bampton lectures, perhaps a more extraordinary history
    belongs to their _composition_; and posterity will learn, with
    wonder, and perhaps with mingled pity and contempt, that the
    measures resorted to by the Laudian Professor of Arabic, in
    order to impose upon his best friend and most able coadjutor,
    DR. PARR, form such a tissue of petty artifice and intrigue as
    scarcely to be believed. The whole plot, however, is minutely
    and masterly developed in Dr. Johnstone's _Life of Dr. Parr_,
    vol. i. p. 216-281, to which I refer the curious reader for some
    very singular particulars. The facts, as there delineated, are
    simply these:--A secret correspondence was carried on between
    Professor White and Mr. Badcock, a dissenting minister of
    Devonshire, who furnished the greater part of the materials of
    these lectures; which materials, copied out by Professor White,
    with a few emendations and additions, were sent to Dr. Parr as
    the exclusive composition of the Professor. Several of the
    lectures are wholly Badcock's, by the express admission of Dr.
    White; and the undeniable evidence of a douceur of 500l. from
    the Professor to Mr. Badcock, is a sufficiently solid proof of
    the value in which the former held the labours of the latter.
    There could be no violation of any great moral feeling in the
    transaction thus simply considered; for the labourer was worthy
    of his hire; but the evasive subtleties and shuffling
    subterfuges by which the literary intercourse was stubbornly
    denied, and attempted to be set aside, by Professor White, is
    matter of perfect astonishment! In the mean while, Dr. Parr
    steadily continued his critical labours, believing that the
    Professor sought no _aid_ but his _own_. He revised, added, and
    polished at his entire discretion; and while it is allowed that
    _one-fifth_ at least, of these lectures are the work of his
    learned hand, he undoubtedly gave to the whole its last and most
    effectual polish. The history which belongs to his discovery of
    the collateral aid of Badcock, is curious and amusing; but can
    have no place here. It does great credit to the head and heart
    of Dr. Parr. Thus the reader will observe that no small interest
    is attached to the volume from which the ensuing extracts are
    made: a volume, full, doubtless, of extensive and learned
    research, and exhibiting a style remarkable alike for its
    consummate art and harmonious copiousness."


       *       *       *       *       *


WEALTH OF HENRY VII.


The hoard amassed by Henry, and "most of it under his own key and
keeping, in secret places at Richmond," is said to have amounted to near
1,800,000 l., which, according to our former conjectures, would be
equivalent to about 16,000,000 l.; an amount of specie so immense as to
warrant a suspicion of exaggeration, in an age when there was no control
from public documents on a matter of which the writers of history were
ignorant. Our doubts of the amount amassed by Henry are considerably
warranted by the computation of Sir W. Petty, who, a century and a half
later, calculated the whole specie of England at only 6,000,000 l.--This
hoard, whatever may have been its precise extent, was too great to be
formed by frugality, even under the penurious and niggardly Henry. A
system of extortion was employed, which "the people, into whom there is
infused for the preservation of monarchies a natural desire to discharge
their princes, though it be with the unjust charge of their counsellors,
did impute unto Cardinal Morton and Sir Reginald Bray, who, as it after
appeared, as counsellors of ancient authority with him, did so second
his humours as nevertheless they did temper them. Whereas Empson and
Dudley, that followed, being persons that had no reputation with him,
otherwise than by the servile following of his bent, did not give way
only as the first did, but shaped his way to those extremities for which
himself was touched with remorse at his death."[4] The means of exaction
chiefly consisted in the fines incurred by slumbering laws, in commuting
for money other penalties which fell on unknown offenders, and in the
sale of pardons and amnesties. Every revolt was a fruitful source of
profit. When the great confiscations had ceased, much remained to be
gleaned by true or false imputations of participation in treason. To be
a dweller in a disaffected district, was, for the purposes of the king's
treasure, to be a rebel. No man could be sure that he had not incurred
mulcts, or other grievous penalties, by some of those numerous laws
which had so fallen into disuse by their frivolous and vexatious nature
as to strike before they warned. It was often more prudent to compound
by money, even in false accusations, than to brave the rapacity and
resentment of the king and his tools. Of his chief instruments, "Dudley
was a man of good family, eloquent, and one that could put hateful
business into good language; Empson, the son of a sieve-maker, of
Towcester, triumphed in his deeds, putting off all other respects. They
were privy counsellors and lawyers, who turned law and justice into
wormwood and rapine."[5] They threw into prison every man whom they
could indict, and confined him, without any intention to prosecute, till
he ransomed himself. They prosecuted the mayors and other magistrates of
the city of London, for pretended or trivial neglects of duty, long
after the time of the alleged offences; subservient judges imposed
enormous fines, and the king imprisoned during his own life some of the
contumacious offenders. Alderman Hawes is said to have died heartbroken
by the terror and anguish of these proceedings. [6] They imprisoned and
fined juries who hesitated to lend their aid when it was deemed
convenient to seek it. To these, Lord Bacon tells us, were added "other
courses fitter to be buried than repeated."[7] Emboldened by long
success, they at last disdained to observe "_the half face of
justice_,"[8] but summoning the wealthy and timid before them in private
houses, "shuffled up" a summary examination without a jury, and levied
such exactions as were measured only by the fears and fortunes of their
victims.--_Mackintosh's England_, Vol. 2.

    [4] Bacon, iii. 409.

    [5] Ibid. iii. 380.

    [6] See examples in Bacon, iii.

    [7] Bacon, iii. 382.

    [8] E: Ibid. 381.


       *       *       *       *       *



SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.


THE COURSE OF THE NIGER.


The discovery of the termination of the course of the Niger, will be of
the greatest importance to geography, to our political power, and to
civilization.

With regard to geography, perhaps the contradiction which was afforded
by the various sources whence we derived our knowledge of the character
of the interior of Africa, and of the course of, next to the Nile, the
most renowned, and, as was considered from the same accounts, the
greatest river of that country, have in late times given unlimited zest
in the pursuit of further information, and has not in the least
detracted from the pleasure with which we find that we are indebted to
our countrymen for the solution of this all-absorbing problem. It
appears, that among the ancients many facts connected with the geography
of the interior of Africa were well known, which have still been an
object of discussion among the moderns; and of these, we may enumerate
the occurrence of a large lake or marsh (for it is either, at different
seasons of the year), whose real existence, beyond the speculations of
geographers, was very unsatisfactorily established, until the journey of
Denham and Clapperton; and the fact of the occurrence of a great river
in the west, emptying itself into the ocean, though many were of opinion
that it lost itself in an inland marsh, or in the desert, while others
supported the opinion of its identity with the Nile of the Egyptians.
The researches of Ptolemy and the Arabian geographers on the Nile of the
Negroes, and in later times the travels of Leo Africanus, who was a Moor
of Grenada, demonstrated the absurdity of this opinion; and how
extraordinary that, in the boasted perfection of human intellect, it
should have been broached several centuries afterwards, and that the
barometric levellings of Bruce should have been necessary to enforce
conviction! It is not at all improbable that Hanno, the Carthaginian, as
advanced by Macqueen, reached the Bight of Benin, or of Biafra; and
certainly the geographical information obtained on these countries by
Herodotus and Edrisi was more accurate than the speculations of many
modern geographers. Observation had demonstrated to the moderns that no
large river emptied itself into the ocean on the north-west coast,
though it required a more accurate acquaintance with the Senegal and the
Gambia before it was fully ascertained that they were not the outlets of
this great stream. The progress of navigation along the south-eastern
shores of Africa also showed that no large river emptied itself into the
sea along that coast; while the settlements of the Portuguese on the
coast to the south of Cape Lopez, led them, at an early period, to adopt
the opinion afterwards supported by Mungo Park and Mr. Barrow, that one
or more of the rivers in their vicinity were the outlets of the great
river of the interior of Africa. Two celebrated geographers, D'Anville
and Major Rennell, however, espoused the theory of the waters emptying
themselves into the Wangara, or great marsh; which argument underwent
various modifications in the hands of different geographers; and though
the probability of its emptying itself into the Gulf of Guinea had been
pointed out on the continent, and vigorously supported in this country,
an expedition was fitted out to explore the Congo or Zaire, which,
though unfortunate to the individuals concerned, was yet satisfactory in
a geographical point of view, and demonstrated that the rivers south of
Cape Lopez were not the outlets of the waters of the Niger, and gave
origin to a speculation which partook of all the characters of a romance
of the desert, beneath the sands of which its author buried the gigantic
stream, loaded with the waters of the Wangara or Lake Tchad, to make it
flow into the Mediterranean at the Syrtis of the ancients.

In the history of geography there are no examples of greater
perseverance and courageous determination than in the efforts made to
triumph over the difficulties presented in the solution of this
important question. Since 1815, there has scarcely a year passed in
which a new attempt has not been made; and of these, if we recede a
little farther back, twenty-five were made by our countrymen, fourteen
by Frenchmen, two by Americans, and one by a German; of which but a
small number, since the days of Houghton, have not fallen victims to
their heroic devotion.

Mungo Park first observed the direction of the stream which had become
as much an object of discussion as its termination; and, strange to say,
after the present discovery, it will, in some parts of its course, still
remain so. The unfortunate traveller just alluded to, previous to his
descent of the river, obtained some information from Moors and from
negroes, on its course by Timbuctoo. The Jinnie of Park is synonymous
with Jenné, Giné, Dhjenné, of other writers, as Jenné has again been
confounded with Kano or Kanno. It may be a figurative term--for the
Jinnie of Park was on an island, as was the Jenné of the Moorish
reports, while the Jenné of some travellers is at a short distance from
the river. This cannot be the case with regard to Timbuctoo, which is
visited by caravans twice a year from Morocco; nor is the name met with
any where, except the two first syllables in the town of Timbo, which
cannot be mistaken for Timbuctoo.

Major Laing had discovered the source of the Niger to be in the
mountains of Loma, in 9 deg. 15 min. west latitude, and had ascertained
its course for a short distance from its source. We were also aware of
the existence of one or two streams joining the great river, or
branching from it near Timbuctoo. De Lisle had marked a river Gambarra,
on his maps drawn up for Louis XV., and not without good authority. This
is the river coming from Houssa; and the Joliba of modern travellers is
a river, we could prove, from the concurring testimony of a variety of
sources, coming from the north-west, and joining its waters with, that
is to say flowing into the Niger, in the immediate neighbourhood of
Timbuctoo; still at that point the Kowarra, or Quorra of the Moors, or
Quolla of the Negroes, who always change the _r_ for _l_ a name which,
according to Laing, it has at its sources--according to Clapperton, it
preserves beyond Timbuctoo, and is probably still the name of the same
stream at its embouchure in the Bight of Biafra. The Quarrama is another
tributary stream which passes by Saccatoo, and falls into the Quorra
above Youri, and above the point where Mungo Park was wrecked; and the
line of country between this river and the Shashum, comprising the hills
of Doochee, of Naroo, and of Dull, is the line of water-shed to the
rivers joining the Quorra on the one hand, and those emptying themselves
into the Wangara on the other. The course given by Sultan Bello, and the
information obtained by Major Denham, both pointed out a river coursing
to the east, which is probably the branch followed by the Landers: for
its termination in Lake Tchad had not even the air of probability;
though it is not, on the other-hand, at all improbable that other
branches empty themselves into the Bight of Benin, by the rivers
Formosa or Volta, according to information given to Captain Clapperton
and Major Laing.

We had intended to embody some remarks upon the pretended journey of
Caillié; but we find we have already occupied too much space in details
necessary to make the geographical nature of the question well
understood; and we shall content ourselves with remarking, that the
discovery of the termination of the Quorra, or Niger, tends to throw a
degree of improbability upon the narrative of that individual, which it
will require much ingenuity to explain away. It is certain that the
latitude given to Timbuctoo by the editor of those travels, and upon
which sufficient ridicule has already been thrown in the Edinburgh
Geographical Journal, may be considered as an error entirely of the
editor's, who, by taking it upon himself, will relieve the burden of the
mistake from the traveller, and thus lighten the weighty doubts which
might in consequence bear upon the remainder of the details; for the
situation of that city, as given by Jomard, is quite inconsistent with
the situation it must be in, from the ascertained source, direction, and
termination of the river. There can be no doubt but that a portion of
the labours presented to the public as the travels of Caillié are
founded upon valid documents, wherever obtained, and probably most of
the errors are those of the editor. But though authorities can be found
in support of the division of the Quorra into two branches; one of
which, the Joliba, flows to the north-west, and the other in an almost
opposite direction,--fact which has no analogy in geography, and, what
is better, no existence in nature; yet no authority can be found for
placing Timbuctoo on a river flowing north from the Niger.

The details which will be given to us by the results of this successful
expedition will, then, not only be of assistance in allying the existing
condition of things with the knowledge of the ancients, but it will
enable us to reduce to a few facts the many contradictory statements
which have originated in the variety of the sources of information, and
the individual and national rivalry which the interest of the question
gave birth to among the geographers of the present day. It will also be
of importance, as it was connected with a great question, as to the
possibility of a large river traversing an extensive continent, or
losing itself in a marsh or lake, or being buried in the extensive sands
of the desert. By laying open the interior of Africa to us, it will
increase our political strength and commercial advantages on those
coasts;--it will enable us to put into practice an amelioration long
contemplated by Mr. Barrow, in the choice of our settlements on those
coasts;--it will place the greatest and most important vent of the
barbarous and inhuman traffic of negroes in our possession; and it will
enable us to diffuse the benefits of superior intelligence among an
ignorant and suffering people.--Literary Gazette.


       *       *       *       *       *



SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.


DISAGREEABLES.

BY THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

    "For four things the earth is disquieted, and five which it
    cannot bear."                                      AGUR.


  This world is a delightful place to dwell in,
  And many sweet and lovely things are in it;
  Yet there are sundry, at the which I have
  A natural dislike, against all reason.
  I never like A TAILOR. Yet no man
  Likes a new coat or inexpressibles
  Better than I do--few, I think, so well:
  I can't account for this. The tailor is,
  A far more useful member of society
  Than is a poet;--then his sprightly wit,
  His glee, his humour, and his happy mind
  Entitle him to fair esteem. Allowed.
  But then, his self-sufficiency;--his shape
  So like a frame, whereon to hang a suit
  Of dandy clothes;--his small straight back and arms,
  His thick bluff ankles, and his supple knees,
  Plague on't!--'Tis wrong--I do not like a tailor.

    AN OLD BLUE-STOCKING MAID! Oh! that's a being,
  That's hardly to be borne. Her saffron hue,
  Her thinnish lips, close primmed as they were sewn
  Up by a milliner, and made water-proof,
  To guard the fount of wisdom that's within.
  Her borrowed locks, of dry and withered hue,
  Her straggling beard of ill-condition'd hairs,
  And then her jaws of wise and formal cast;
  Chat-chat--chat-chat! Grand shrewd remarks!
  That may have meaning, may have none for me.
  I like the creature so supremely ill,
  I never listen, never calculate.
  I know this is ungenerous and unjust:
  I cannot help it; for I do dislike
  An old blue-stocking maid even to extremity.
  I do protest I'd rather kiss a tailor.

    A GREEDY EATER! He is worst of all.
  The gourmand bolts and bolts, and smacks his chops--
  Eyes every dish that enters, with a stare
  Of greed and terror, lest one thing go by him.
  The glances that he casts along the board,
  At every slice that's carved, have that in them
  Beyond description. I would rather dine
  Beside an ox--yea, share his cog of draff;
  Or with a dog, if he'd keep his own side;
  Than with a glutton on the rarest food.
    A thousand times I've dined upon the waste,
  On dry-pease bannock, by the silver spring.
  O, it was sweet--was healthful--had a zest;
  Which at the paste my palate ne'er enjoyed.
  My bonnet laid aside, I turned mine eyes
  With reverence and humility to heaven,
  Craving a blessing from the bounteous Giver;
  Then grateful thanks returned. There was a joy
  In these lone meals, shared by my faithful dog,
  Which I remind with pleasure, and has given
  A verdure to my spirit's age. Then think
  Of such a man, beside a guzzler set;
  And how his stomach nauseates the repast.
    "When he thinks of days he shall never more see.
  Of his cake and his cheese, and his lair on the lea,
  His laverock that hung on the heaven's ee-bree,
    His prayer and his clear mountain rill."
  I cannot eat one morsel. There is that,
  Somewhere within, that balks each bold attempt;
  A loathing--a disgust--a something worse:
  I know not what it is. A strong desire
  To drink, but not for thirst. 'Tis from a wish
  To wash down that enormous eater's food--
  A sympathetic feeling. Not of love!
  And be there ale, or wine, or potent draught
  Superior to them both, to that I fly,
  And glory in the certainty that mine
  Is the ethereal soul of food, while his
  Is but the rank corporeal--the vile husks
  Best suited to his crude voracity.
  And far as the bright spirit may transcend
  Its mortal frame, my food transcendeth his.

    A CREDITOR! Good heaven, is there beneath
  Thy glorious concave of cerulean blue,
  A being formed so thoroughly for dislike,
  As is a creditor? No, he's supreme,
  The devil's a joke to him! Whoe'er has seen
  An adder's head upraised, with gleaming eyes,
  About to make a spring, may form a shade
  Of mild resemblance to a creditor.
    I do remember once--'tis long agone--
  Of stripping to the waist to wade the Tyne--
  The English Tyne, dark, sluggish, broad, and deep;
  And just when middle-way, there caught mine eye,
  A lamprey of enormous size pursuing me!
  L---- what a fright! I bobb'd, I splashed, I flew.
  He had a creditor's keen, ominous look,
  I never saw an uglier--but a real one.
    This is implanted in man's very nature,
  It cannot be denied. And once I deemed it
  The most degrading stain our nature bore:
  Wearing a shade of every hateful vice,
  Ingratitude, injustice, selfishness.
  But I was wrong, for I have traced the stream
  Back to its fountain in the inmost cave,
  And found in postulate of purest grain,
  It's first beginning.--It is not the man,
  The friend who has obliged us, we would shun,
  But the conviction which his presence brings,
  That we have done him wrong:--a sense of grief
  And shame at our own rash improvidence:
  The heart bleeds for it, and we love the man
  Whom we would shun. The feeling's hard to bear.

    A BLUSTERING FELLOW! There's a deadly bore,
  Placed in a good man's way, who only yearns
  For happiness and joy. But day by day,
  This blusterer meets me, and the hope's defaced.
  I cannot say a word--make one remark,
  That meets not flat and absolute contradiction--
  I nothing know on earth--am misinformed
  On every circumstance. The very terms,
  Scope, rate, and merits of my own transactions
  Are all to me unknown, or falsified,
  Of which most potent proof can be adduced.
  Then the important thump upon the board,
  Snap with the thumb, and the disdainful 'whew!'
  Sets me and all I say at less than naught.
    What can a person do?--To knock him down
  Suggests itself, but then it breeds a row
  In a friend's house, or haply in your own,
  Which is much worse; for glasses go like cinders;
  The wine is spilled--the toddy. The chair-backs
  Go crash! No, no, there's nothing but forbearance,
  And mark'd contempt. If that won't bring him down,
  There's nothing will. Ah! can the leopard change
  His spots, or the grim Ethiop his hue?
  Sooner they may and nature change her course,
  Than can a blusterer to a modest man:
  He still will stand a beacon of dislike.
  A fool--I wish all blustering chaps were dead,
  That's the true bathos to have done with them.

_Fraser's Magazine._


       *       *       *       *       *



THE GATHERER.

    A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
                                 SHAKSPEARE.


GAD'S HILL.


Gad's Hill, not far from Chatham, was formerly a noted place for
depredations on seamen, after they had received their pay at the latter
place. The following robbery was committed there in or verging on the
year 1676: About four o'clock one morning, a gentleman was robbed by one
Nicks, on a bay mare, just as he was on the declivity of the hill, on
the west side. Nicks rode away, and as he said, was stopped nearly an
hour by the difficulty of getting a boat, to enable him to cross the
river; but he made the best use of it as a kind of bait to his horse.
From thence he rode across the county of Essex to Chelmsford. Here he
stopped about an hour to refresh his horse, and give the animal a
ball;--from thence to Braintree, Bocking, and Withersfield; thence over
the Downs to Cambridge; and from thence, keeping still the cross roads,
he went by Fenny Stratford, [9] to Godmanchester and Huntingdon, where
he and his mare baited about an hour; and, as he said himself, he slept
about half an hour: then holding on the north road, and keeping a full
gallop most of the way, he came to York the same afternoon; put off his
boots and riding clothes, and went dressed as if he had been an
inhabitant of the place, to the bowling-green, where, among many other
gentlemen, was the Lord Mayor of the city. He, singling out his
lordship, studied to do something particular that the mayor might
remember him, and then took occasion to ask him what o'clock it was. The
mayor, pulling out his watch, told him the time, which was a quarter
before, or a quarter after eight at night. Upon a prosecution for this
robbery, the whole merit of the case turned upon this single point:--the
person robbed, swore to the man, to the place, and to the time, in which
the robbery was committed; but Nicks, proving by the Lord Mayor of
York, that he was as far off as _Yorkshire_ at that time, the jury
acquitted him on the bare supposition, that the man could not be at two
places so remote on one and the same day.

    [9] Fenny, or Fen Stanton, not Stratford, must be here meant, as
    the former is in the direct road from Cambridge to Huntingdon.

I need not remind your numerous readers that the roads in 1676 were in a
very different plight to those of 1831; at the former period it would
not have been possible for Tom Thumb to have trotted sixteen miles an
hour on any turnpike road in England. Even my friend, the respected
driver of the Old Union Cambridge Coach to London, can remember, in his
time, the coach being two days on the road, and occasionally being
indebted to farmers for the loan of horses to drag the coach wheels out
of their sloughy tracks.

J.S.W.


       *       *       *       *       *


DIGNIFIED REPROOF.


Catherine Parthenay, niece of the celebrated Anna Parthenay, returned
this spirited reply to the importunities of Henry IV.--"Your majesty
must know, that although I am too humble to become your wife, I am at
the same time descended from too illustrious a family ever to become
your mistress."

P.

       *       *       *       *       *


L--A--W.


The circumlocution and diffuseness of law papers--the apparent
redundancy of terms, and multiplicity of synonymes, which may be found
on all judicial proceedings, are happily hit off in the following, which
we copy from _Jenk's New York Evening Journal_:--

"A LAWYER'S STORY.--Tom strikes Dick over the shoulders with a rattan as
big as your little finger. A lawyer would tell you the story something
in this way:--And that, whereas the said Thomas, at the said Providence,
in the year and day aforesaid, in and upon the body of the said Richard,
in the peace of God and the State, then and there being, did make a most
violent assault and inflicted a great many and divers blows, kicks,
cuffs, thumps, bumps, contusions, gashes, wounds, hurts, damages, and
injuries, in and upon the head, neck, breast, stomach, lips, knees,
shins, and heels of the said Richard, with divers sticks, staves, canes,
poles, clubs, logs of wood, stones, guns, dirks, swords, daggers,
pistols, cutlasses, bludgeons, blunderbusses, and boarding pikes, then
and there held in the hands, fists, claws, and clutches of him the said
Thomas."


       *       *       *       *       *


WATERLOO--"FORGET ME NOT."

    "On one of these graves I observed the little wild blue flower,
    known by the name of 'Forget me not'."--_Visit to the Field of
    Waterloo._


  No marble tells, nor columns rise,
    To bid the passing stranger mourn,
  Where valour fought, and bled, and died,
    From friends and life abruptly torn.

  Yet on the earth that veils[10] their heads,
    Where bravest hearts are doom'd to rot,
  This simple flower, with meek appeal,
    Prefers the prayer "Forget me not."

  Forget! forbid my heart responds
    While bending o'er the hero's grave--
  Forbid that e'er oblivion's gloom
    Should shade the spot where rest the brave.

  Fond kindred at this awful shrine
    Will oft, with footsteps faltering,
  Approach and drop the pious tear--
    Sad Memory's purest offering.

  And well their country marks those deeds--
    The land that gave each bosom fire:
  Deeds that her proudest triumph won,
    But gaining, saw her sons expire.

  And ages hence will Britain's sons,
    As trophied tributes meet their view,
  Admire, exult--yet mourn the pangs
    These glories cost, at Waterloo.

D.


    [10] The layer of earth scarce covers the bodies, so may be
    called a veil.


       *       *       *       *       *


SWORD PRESENTED BY THE KING TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON, ON THE
ANNIVERSARY OF WATERLOO.


On the hilt, and executed in high relief, are branches of oak
surrounding the crown. The bark of the branches are opening, which
display the words--"India, Copenhagen, Peninsula, and Waterloo." The top
part of the scabbard exhibits his majesty's arms, initials, and crown;
the middle of the scabbard exhibits the arms and orders of the Duke of
Wellington on the one side, and on the reverse his batons. The lower end
has the thunderbolt and wings, the whole surrounded with oak leaves and
laurel, with a rich foliage, in which was introduced the flower of the
Lotus. The blade exhibits, in has relief, his majesty's arms, initials,
and crown; the arms, orders, and batons, of the Duke of Wellington,
Hercules taming the tiger, the thunderbolt, the British colours bound up
with the caduceus and fasces, surrounded by laurel, and over them the
words--"India, Copenhagen, Peninsula, and Waterloo," terminating with a
sheathed sword, surrounded by laurel and palm.


       *       *       *       *       *


ODDITIES.


Fashion-mongers make odd work with language. Thus, we read of Mrs.
Ravenshaw giving a "petit" _souper_ to about 150 of the _haut ton_.

The _Court Journal_, too, tells us that a few days since Lord Lansdowne
met with "a severe accident," by which "he suffered no material injury."

The Queen's dress at her last ball was "white and silver, striped with
blue." The song says--

  To be nice about trifles
  Is trifling and folly;--

but the _modistes_ can gather little from such a description as the
above.

In the Zoological Gardens is a pheasant, one of whose feathers measures
5 feet 11 inches in length!

A "_Charming Fellow_,"--The records of the Horticultural Society inform
us that _Lady_ Cochrane has been elected "a Fellow of the Society."


VEDI PAGANINI E MORI.
  See Paganini, and then _die_!
    I beg to tell a different story;
  And to the _bowing_ crowd I cry,
    See Paganini, and then Mori!
                                 _Court Journal._

In a List of New Books and Reprints we find one by "Bishop Home; in
silk, 2s. 6d."

         _Epitaph on Spenser._
             _In Spenserum._

  Famous alive and dead, here is the odds,
  Then god of poets, now poet of the gods.

The Philomathic Society of Warsaw have elected Mr. Campbell a
corresponding member, as "Campbell _Tomes_ Poète Anglais."--_Literary
Gazette._

_Anatomy._--The price for unopened subjects in Paris is 5 francs, or 4s.
2d.; and 3 francs, or 2s. 6d. for opened ones.--_Lancet_.


       *       *       *       *       *


THE LORD CHANCELLOR.

Vol. XVII. of the MIRROR,


With a Steel-plate Portrait of this illustrious Individual, Memoir, &c.,
50 Engravings, and 450 closely printed Pages, will be published on the
30th instant, price 5s. 6d. boards.

Part 110, price 10d., will be ready on the same day.

The Supplementary Number will contain the above Portrait, a copious
Memoir, Title-page, Index, &c; and, from its extension beyond the usual
space, will be published at 4d.

       *       *       *       *       *

Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset
House,) London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic; G.G.
BENNIS, 55, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris; and by all Newsmen and
Booksellers.





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