The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction

Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Allen Siddle and the Online Distributed
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VOL. XIX. NO. 533.] SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1832. [PRICE 2d.

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[Illustration: Cascade at Virginia Water.]


This has been described as "perhaps the most striking imitation we have of
the great works of nature:" at all events, it has less of the mimicry of
art than similar works on a smaller scale.

Virginia Water will be recollected as the largest sheet of artificial
water in the kingdom, with the exception of that at Blenheim. Near the
high Southampton road it forms the above cascade, descending into a glen
romantically shaded with plantations of birch, willow, and acacia:

Hollowly here the gushing water sounds
With a mysterious voice; one might pause
Upon its echoes till it seemeth a noise
Of fathomless wilds where man had never walked.

Or it may be described in the graphic words of Thomson:

With woods o'erhung, and shagg'd with mossy rocks,
Whence on each side the gushing waters play,
And down the rough cascade white dashing fall,
Or gleam in lengthened vista through the trees.

Beside the cascade is a stone cave, "moss-o'ergrown," constructed with
fragments of immense size and curious shape that were originally dug up at
Bagshot Heath, and are supposed to be the remains of a Saxon cromlech. At
the base of this fall, it becomes a running stream, and after winding
through part of Surrey, falls into the Thames at Chertsey.

The reader will remember Virginia Water as the favourite retreat of the
late King; and this embellishment, (if so artificial a term can be applied
to a cascade,) was made at the bidding of the Royal taste. It is perhaps
the most successful of all the contrivances hereabout to aid the natural
enchantment of the scene. We believe the present Court are not so fervent
in their attachment to this resort; its seclusion must, however, be a
delightful relief to the costly cares of state, and the superb suites of
Windsor Castle. A scene of wild nature, such as the annexed is intended to
represent, is more acceptable to our sight than all the quarterings on the
ceiling of St. George's Hall, though they resemble the pattern-cards of

* * * * *


Our natural disposition to evil is evident in this: that vice tracks out
its own path and stands in need of no instructor; while it requires not
only example but discipline to initiate us in virtue.

We both read and hear bitter complaints about the uncertainty of human
affairs; and yet it is that uncertainty alone that gives life its relish,
for novelty is the real and radical cause of all our enjoyments.

There is a great outcry against fools on the part of the knaves, but
rather with some want of policy; for if there were no fools in the world
cunning men would have but a bad trade of it.

The faults of a fool are concealed from himself while they are evident to
the world; on the other hand the faults of the wise man are well known to
himself, while they are masked over and invisible to the world.

It has been said that "there is a pleasure in being mad that none but
madmen know;" but this only applies to that species of madness which is
produced by an excess of imagination eventually overpowering the judgment.

The insincerity of a friend has often inclined men to seek for a surer
reliance upon money; these unexpected shocks make us disgusted with our
species, and it is for this reason that old men who have seen so much of
the world become at last avaricious.

The only result an inquirer after truth can derive from metaphysics will
be to find himself silenced for the present; they rarely convince, and for
the most part mislead.

All the discoveries made within the last century were ridiculed and
treated with contempt by our forefathers; yet we are equally prejudiced
and hostile to all those improvements proposed to us, which will in all
probability be adopted by our children.

All those animals who are associated with man become immediately
participants in his misery: when once domesticated they become liable to
disease, whereas in a wild state they could have perished only from age or

If we subtract from the twenty-four hours the time spent in eating,
sleeping, exercise, and the other indispensable cares of our existence,
what a fraction of time is employed on our intellectual faculties! Again,
there are few who have the means to enable them to study; fewer the talent
requisite; and still fewer the inclination, if they have the ability.

The force of habit affects even our palates; we in time acquire a relish
for what was once perfectly nauseous. The Greenlander detests turtle soup
as much as we abominate train oil.

Courage, or a contempt of danger, is a mere animal quality, and being only
the result of a particular formation, is entitled to no merit, though it
may demand our applause: but moral, or acquired courage, is a very
different thing. A man who is fortunate in the world and has a sacrifice
to make, if he conducts himself with spirit, is also more entitled to our
admiration than a mere desperado.


* * * * *



The sultry sun had gain'd the middle sky,
Reigning above in cloudless majesty,
When deep engag'd in pray'r, two neighbouring swains
Knelt where the common bound divides their plains.
Hamet and Raschid;--whilst their flocks around
Panting with thirst, or dying, strew the ground,
With hands uplift they beg their god in pray'r,
Themselves to pity, and their flocks to spare.

Sudden the air grew calm, no zephyr stirr'd,
Through all the valley not a sound was heard,
That instant hush'd was all the vocal grove,
And sounds aerial warbled from above:
Around each shepherd cast his wond'ring eye,
And down the vale was seen advancing nigh,
A mighty Being, whom when near he stood,
They knew that Genius who distributes good;
The sheaves of plenty in his hand they see,
In that the avenging sword of misery.

As nearer still the mighty Being drew,
Trembling they stood, and knew not what to do;
When lo! the Genius breath'd these solemn strains,
Soft as the breeze that cools Saboea's plains:--
"Children of dust! approach, fly not your friend,
I leave the heavens above, my aid to lend;
Water you seek, and water I bestow,
But ere you ask, this useful lesson know:--
Whate'er the body for its use enjoys,
Excess no less than scarcity destroys;
Demand no more than what your wants require,
Let Hamet tell me first his heart's desire."

"O, Being, great, beneficent and kind,
Pardon the fear that overspreads my mind;
On me, great God, a little brook bestow,
That winter rains may never overflow,
And when the summer droughts commence their reign,
Stretch forth thy hand and let the brook remain."

"'Tis yours," with accents mild the Genius cried,
Streams, as he speaks, o'er all the meadows glide,
A fresher green the fragrant shrubs display,
And every leaf in trembling cheers the day;
Slaking their raging thirst, the flocks are seen,
And new-born herbage clothes the earth in green.
"This trifling wish befits a little soul,
Let the great Ganges o'er my meadows roll!"

Thus Raschid spoke, and thus the God replies,
Rage, as he spoke, rode sparkling in his eyes:--
"Insatiate man, this boundless wish recall
Ere ruin whelm yourself, your flocks and all;
See you these sheaves?--Now mark this dreadful sword,
Those are the wise man's--this the fool's reward."

In vain he spoke; and hark, what meets the ear,
The raging flood is now approaching near;
Onward it rolls, o'erwhelming Raschid's plains,
All things it sweeps, and not a tree remains,
His flocks, his herds, the mighty stream o'erpours,
Himself (rash man) a crocodile devours.

[1] See _Rambler_, No. 38.

* * * * *


On a fork of lightning which sped through heaven,
He rode to space's naught,
And with the flash of a star which his flight had riven,
(The which in his hand of light he caught)
He writ with that flash his burning thought,
On the roll of darkness space had given.

* * * * *



(_For the Mirror_.)

Disposed as we are to give the Scotch full credit for superior domestic
economy, a practice which we had frequently an opportunity of observing,
some five or six years since in Edinburgh, astonished us, we confess, not
a little; and which, had we heard of, not beheld, we should rather have
been inclined to attribute to our thoughtless Hibernian neighbours.

Every English housemaid knows, if every housekeeper does not, that
shavings make a most valuable fuel; for lighting fires they are preferable
to those faggots, small bundles of which fetch in London, and large
provincial towns, what may be considered a high price, as they commonly
swell the weekly expenditure of every family. In Edinburgh, at the period
to which we allude, a great deal of building was going on, and it was
impossible to walk the streets without passing, (especially in the
immediate environs) new houses in various stages of completion; but
invariably we found, that the custom of the workmen was, to collect in
heaps the shavings from the carpenter's work, and burn with other rubbish,
these, which might have been sold for fuel very advantageously; nor was
the waste of this practice the only thing to be reprehended; it was
dangerous, since such bonfires were lighted before the houses in the open
streets, to the great peril of passengers, and at the risk of frightening
horses and other cattle, as the high winds prevalent in our northern
metropolis carried about in all directions the light, blazing shavings,
and sparks.


* * * * *


(_For the Mirror_.)

Valuable as are feathers, and essential as is that article, a feather-bed,
to the domestic comforts of the poor, who can rarely afford to purchase
one, it has often struck us, as a singular want of thought and economy in
humble cottagers residing on village-greens or commons, upon which much
poultry is kept, that they should not collect, (a work easily performed by
the youngest children) the numerous soft, short, downy feathers, which may
be observed floating about. These in time would amount to a quantity worth
consideration, but they are usually left, first to litter the land, and
secondly to be destroyed by rain and passengers. This is particularly the
case in Norfolk, celebrated as everybody knows as well for its geese as
its turkeys, and where, it is asserted, that the former fowls undergo
regular pluckings for the sake of their feathers, ere submitted to "the
poulterer's knife." But experience, unfortunately, only confirms the old
observation, that "the poor are the worst economists in the world," and
the least obedient of any people to our Saviour's command: "Gather up the
fragments, that nothing be lost."


* * * * *


Mix one teaspoonful of burnt alum, 1/4 oz. of salt of lemons, 1/4 oz. of
oxalic acid, in a bottle, with half-a-pint of cold water; to be used by
wetting a piece of calico with it, and rubbing it on the spots.

S. AE.

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* * * * *


One of the oddest of all odd books that ever fell into our hands is
Captain Colville Franckland's _Narrative of a Visit to the Courts of
Russia and Sweden_, in 1830 and 1831. It is one of the hop-step-and-a-jump
tours that your fashionable folks make for making acquaintances and then
making books. The gallant author does not stay long enough in a place to
be dull; for he is lively and flippant in every page, and throws a dash of
_the service_ into every chapter. He feels that Dr. Granville has left him
nothing to say which may not be found in his two great big books; yet the
Cholera and the Polish war have supplied him with two topics throughout
the whole book; and, dull as these subjects are in themselves, they have
enabled our tourist to produce a rambling, rattling, frolicsome work of
seven or eight hundred pages. His attentions to the softer sex sparkle
every where. At Hamburgh, "we dined at a most excellent table d'hote, but
thought the ladies plain and dowdy." "We laughed much at the Holsteiner
peasantry, the women being dressed like devils, and men like
merry-andrews." Again,--

"One of the most pleasing characteristics of Hamburgh, is the neat little,
rosy-faced, fair-haired soubrette, tripping along the Yungferstieg, with a
basket under her right arm, covered with a handsome shawl of glowing
colours. These enticing damsels look as happy and as coquettish as you can
well imagine, and might induce many a traveller to pass a few weeks in
Hamburgh who had time to dedicate to the pursuit of the fair nymphs of the

"But, alas! no good is unaccompanied by evil; hideously deformed dwarfs
haunt the streets and promenades of the good town, and the eye of the
observer, after having rested with complacency on the round and
well-turned form of the smart soubrette, reverts with horror to the
miserable Flibbertigibbets which abound in a frightful proportion to the
whole population."

At Hamburgh he finds fun in every thing.

"I was a good deal amused to-day by the funeral cortege of some citizen of
consequence. The bier was surrounded by men dressed in the old Venetian
costume of black, with ruffs, well-powdered wigs, and swords by their
sides. I regret to say that I must quit Hamburgh without seeing the Schoene
Marianna; but I hear she is now rather _passee_, and I must console myself
for this mortification by gazing upon the first pair of bright eyes which
I shall meet to-morrow on my route to Kiel."

The Russian dwarfs afford our Captain much amusement.

"Madame Divoff, like many other Russian ladies, has a dwarf in her house,
who remains constantly with the company. He is less ugly and disagreeable
than others of his species. La Princesse Serge Gallitzin has a little
fellow of this sort; the Lisianskis have also one in constant attendance.
The pretty Mademoiselle Rosetti, two evenings ago, kept caressing the
dwarf at Madame Divoff's ball. ('Beauty and the Beast,' said I to her;
'Zemir et Azor.')

"At a very agreeable family party at the Prince Paul Gallitzin's were
masks; and a party of male and female dwarfs; these droll little urchins
were all very well made and good-looking; they frisked and frolicked about
with the children of the house as if they themselves were not (as in
reality they were) men and women, but children likewise. One of these poor
little mortals, equipped as an officer of hussars, danced a mazurka with
great grace and activity, and selected for his partner the _Gouvernante_,
a fine, fat bouncing woman of twenty-five. He likewise, at my request,
sang a Russian romance, which he accompanied on the piano-forte: his voice
was a very plaintive, but weak barytone. The kindness of the Russian
nobles to these unfortunate beings does infinite honour to the national

We have only time for another extract or two. At Moscow, he notes:

"I passed the remainder of the evening at the Princess Dolgorouki's; the
young ladies were in great agitation on account of the sudden
indisposition of their mother, Madame Boulgakow, who had, it seems, caught
cold in her return from the monastery of Troitza, sixty wersts from hence,
a renowned pilgrimage. She had better have stayed at home, for surely
Moscow has sufficient churches in which bigots may pray as long as they
please. When will superstition cease to usurp the place of true religion
in the human mind? I did not pity the _old devotee_, but I felt for the
young ladies, who seemed to be a good deal flurried and fluttered by this

At St. Petersburg:

"June 8-20.--Weather hot and sultry. At two I walked to the Summer Gardens,
which I found full of police-officers and soldiers. To-day there is a
celebrated promenade, that in which the young fillies range themselves in
two rows along the principal alley to be chosen by their future spouse.
However, it was as yet too early for this exhibition, and there was nobody
here except police-officers, the very sight of whom makes me sick; so off
I set, and was caught near the Newski Prospekt in a tremendous
thunder-storm, which forced me to take shelter, first under the arch of a
_porte-cochere_, and secondly in the Casan Church, in which I discovered
for the first time the baton of Marshal Davoust, stuck up in a glass-case
against one of the piers supporting the dome of the Church. Underneath the
baton, upon a gilded metal-plate, are two inscriptions, the one in Russ,
the other in Latin, which state that the baton is that of Marshal Davoust,
taken near Crasnoe, 5th Nov. 1812; so there can be no doubt of the fact."

"I was a good deal amused with a bad painting over the simple unassuming
tomb of the immortal Kutusoff, representing the Kremlin, the church of
Ivan Blagennoi, and a procession of priests marching out of the former by
the Holy Gate towards the latter. Kutusoff's tomb is shaded by banners
taken from the Poles, the Prussians, and the French, having at the ends of
their staffs, the eagles of the two former, and the horse of the latter."

* * * * *


Mrs. Watts's charming Juvenile Annual, the _New Year's Gift_, furnishes
the following admirable model of a descriptive letter from the French

"The day following the one on which we were at Versailles, we spent in
visiting the Garden of Plants; this institution (if I may so call it) is a
little on the same plan as our Zoological Garden, and is said to be quite
unrivalled in the whole world. It contains curiosities of every age, and
from every quarter of the globe. The gardens, which cover more than a
hundred acres of ground, are filled with every plant that can be reared in
France, either naturally or by artificial means, from the lordly palm to
the humble potato.

"One enclosure is filled with every specimen of shrub that is capable of
being made to form a fence, from the prickly holly, of forty feet high, to
the dwarf-box, scarcely an inch above the ground.

"In another place, we see specimens of all the various modes of training
fruit, and other kinds of trees, which the ingenuity of man has been able
to accomplish--this is peculiarly interesting. Here, a tree is trained to
resemble a large basin, another is made to look like a gigantic umbrella,
and a third like a lady's fan.

"In one enclosure are collected together all the various specimens of
culinary vegetables that have usually been appropriated to the sustenance
of mankind; these, you will readily believe, occupy no small space; and
near them, are to be seen specimens of all the varieties of fruit trees of
which France and its neighbouring kingdoms can boast.

"In addition to all this, there are extensive green-houses and hot-houses,
filled with many thousand of the choicest plants, attached to each of
which is its scientific and its common name. Many of them were extremely
curious; I tried to remember so many, that I find I confound one with
another, and now I can scarcely recollect any, save the useful bread tree,
the curious coffee plant, and the tempting sugar cane, all of which are to
be seen here to great advantage.

"Attached to this beautiful garden, is a splendid museum, containing all
sorts of treasures connected with natural history. Here are to be seen
more than two hundred varieties of monkeys only; of birds, there are
myriads; and one or two species are shown, that are believed to be the
only ones of the kind extant; these, of course, are not alive. Here are
also collected hundreds of bird's nests, of all shapes, kinds and sizes,
from one almost as large as a hand basin, to one about the size of a green
gage plum: most of these contain eggs of such kinds of birds as those to
whom the nests belonged; and indeed the ingenuity with which many of these
little houses are constructed, surprised me more than any thing I ever
before witnessed. The collection of butterflies too is most remarkable,
from one the size of a plate, to those of the smallest size.

"In the same building is also to be seen a most extensive assortment of
minerals, spars, gems, ores, crystals, medals, etc. etc., which merely to
enumerate singly, would more than fill a long letter. We next saw the
Museum of Zoology: this contains reptiles and fish, innumerable, and of
which I can only say, how wonderful are their varieties! I must not,
however, forget to tell you that we saw a part of an elephant's tusk,
which when complete is believed to have been at least eight feet in length.
Only imagine what must have been the height of the possessor of such a
pair of tusks! Here too we saw the skeleton of an enormous whale that was
captured on the coast of France; and from the size of its jaw bones, I can
readily believe the old story, that the tongue of the whale is as large as
a feather bed.

"But the whale's was not the only skeleton which we saw,--here were
collected and strung together, the bones of men, women, children,
quadrupeds, birds, reptiles, and fish to form perfect specimens.--All this
was very remarkable: but I cannot say that I much admired them, though I
was much struck by the sight of an Egyptian mummy, embalmed and unwrapped,
and supposed to have been in its present state far more than a thousand
years. We none of us very much enjoyed the sight of the dead specimens, we
therefore gladly left them, in order to pay our respects to their living
neighbours, whose houses were not very far off.

"The Garden of Plants contains a very considerable number of wild animals,
and who all appear to be living very much at their ease. Indeed they are
surrounded with every thing that can be devised to render their captivity
as little irksome as possible. They are confined it is true; not in narrow
cages, but in wide enclosures; around them grow trees of their own country,
and under their feet springs the herbage of which they are most fond. The
Polar bear is indulged with a fountain of water, and when the camel is
inclined for a nap he reposes on a bed of sand. Of the usefulness of this
animal I must not omit to give you an instance, and that is, that so far
from eating the bread of idleness, he actually more than earns his living
by raising all the water that is used in these extensive grounds, and thus
he may be regarded as a general benefactor to all the plants and animals
by which he is surrounded. So much for the king's garden as it is
sometimes called; to attend all its different branches no less than a
hundred and sixty persons are constantly employed, and to keep it up
nearly twelve thousand pounds is annually expended. This of course
includes the expenses of travellers who are sent abroad by the French
Government to collect new treasures to enrich this wonderful place, which
may truly be called the museum of the world."

By the way, if it be not too late, we recommend parents to peep into this
pretty little volume for masters and misses. If "Black Monday" is past,
the "Gift" will still be acceptable: it will make school-time pass as
happily as a holiday.

* * * * *


* * * * *


(_To the Editor_.)

Allow me to make a few observations in addition to those in a paper signed
_G.K._ in No. 528 of _The Mirror_. Your correspondent commences with
Julius Caesar, and passes over the period intervening between him and King
Edgar; and from him till the time of King John. Now, prior to Caesar's
invasion of this island, and during the wars between the Romans and Gauls,
Caswallwn or Cassivelaunus, sent a numerous body of troops to assist the
Armoricans, or natives of Brittany, against the Romans; Caesar himself,
says, that his project of invading this country arose from the
intelligence he received of the aid the Gauls derived from the Britons;
therefore I consider that the mode, let it be what it would, deserved
somewhat of the name of a fleet, if not in the modern sense of the word.
Caesar says they had large, open vessels, with keels and masts made of
wood, and the other parts covered with hides; and about the year 384,
Cynan Meiriadog, a chieftain of North Wales, sailed to Armorica with a
great body of followers, to support the cause of Maximus, an aspirant to
the Roman throne.

Berkeley, in his _Naval History_, p. 49, says, that at the time of the
Saxon invasion, Gurthefyr or Vortimer, King of the Britons, with a fleet,
opposed the Saxons under Hengist; and after an obstinate engagement, the
Britons were victorious, notwithstanding the inferiority of their vessels
to those of the Saxons, both in number and size.

The Welsh, at the time of King Alfred, must have had some knowledge of
nautical architecture and affairs, (according to Berkeley's _Naval
History_, p. 69,) for the great Alfred discovering the necessity of
establishing a naval force for the purpose of resisting the incursions of
the Danes, prevailed on several natives of Wales to superintend its
construction, and subsequently conferred on them some of the most
distinguished posts in his fleet. And as a proof of the nautical spirit of
the Welsh, we have the fact of Prince Madog, son of Owain Gwynedd, about
the year 1170, going on a voyage in search of a new country, where he
would be free from the dreadful dissensions which were ravaging his native

_Caer Ludd_.


* * * * *


(_For the Mirror_.)

Impoysonments, so ordinarily in Italy, are so abominable amongst English,
as 21 Henry VIII. it was made high treason, though since repealed; after
which the punishment for it was to be put alive into a caldron of water,
and then boiled to death; at present it is felony without benefit of

If a criminal indicted of petit treason, or felony, refuseth to answer or
to put himself upon a legal tryal, then for such standing mute and
contumacy, he is presently to undergo that horrible punishment called
_Peine forte et dure_; that is, to be sent back to the prison from whence
he came, and there laid in some low, dark room, upon the bare ground, on
his back, all naked, his arms and legs drawn with cords, fastened to the
several corners of the room; then shall be laid upon his body, iron and
stone, so much as he may bear, or more; the next day he shall have three
morsels of barley bread without drink, and the third day shall have drink
of the water next to the prison door, except it be running water, without
bread; and this shall be his diet till he die. Which grievous kind of
death some stout fellows have sometimes chosen, that so not being tryed
and convicted of their crimes, their estates may not be forfeited to the
king, but descend to their children, nor their blood stained.

Perjury, by bearing false witness upon oath, is punished with the pillory,
called _Callistrigium_, burnt in the forehead with a P, his trees growing
upon his ground to be rooted up, and his goods confiscated.


* * * * *


(_For the Mirror_.)

The following extract is from a manuscript in the possession of the family
of Kelly, now in Lord Kelly's library, which was taken from the original
letter of Publius Lentulus at Rome.

It being the usual custom of the Roman governors to advertise the senate
and people of Rome of such material things as happened in their provinces,
in the days of the Emperor Tiberius Caesar, Publius Lentulus, President of
Judaea, wrote the following epistle to the senate, respecting Our Saviour
Jesus Christ.

"There appeared in these our days, a man of great virtue, named Jesus
Christ, who is yet living amongst us, and of the Gentiles he is accepted
as a Prophet of Truth; but his disciples call him the Son of God. He
raiseth the dead, and cureth all manner of diseases: a man of stature
somewhat tall and comely, with very reverend countenance, such as
beholders may both love and fear: his hair is of the colour of the
chestnut, full ripe, plain to his ears, whence downward it is more orient,
curling and waving about his shoulders; in the middle of his head is a
seam or partition of his hair, after the manner of the Nazarites; his face
without spot or wrinkles, beautified with a living red; his nose and mouth
so formed as nothing can be represented; his beard thickish, in colour
like his hair, not very long, but forked; his look innocent and mature;
his eyes grey, clear, and quick. In reproving he is terrible; in
admonishing, courteous and fair spoken--pleasant in conversation, mixed
with gravity. It cannot be recollected that any have seen him laugh, but
many have seen him weep. In proportion of body most excellent; his hands
and arms most delectable to behold; in speaking, very temperate, modest,
and wise. A man for his singular beauty far surpassing the children of


* * * * *


[Illustration: Brighton in 1743.]

(Whoever has enjoyed the natural beauties or artificial luxuries of
BRIGHTON--the _Daphne_ of our metropolis--will feel some curiosity
respecting its origin and progress from an obscure fishing-town to such a
focus of wealth and fashion as at this moment it presents. The celebrity
of Brighton, we may observe, extends throughout the empire, and is almost
as well known to the plodding and stay-at-home townsman of the north as to
the luxurious idler ever and anon in quest of new pleasures. As the
occasional abode of the Royal Family, its name has figured in the Court
records of the last half century. Of late years, however, Brighton has
assumed an extent and importance which may be referred to a spirit of
speculative enterprise unparalleled in the fortunes of any other town in
the United Kingdom. Not only has a palace, but squares of palatial
mansions, terraces, crescents, and streets, nay, very towns of splendid
houses, have sprung up with fairy-like rapidity; and Brighton has thus
become, not merely a fashionable resort for the season, but a place of
permanent residence for a very large proportion of wealthy individuals.
Our present purpose is, however, to illustrate the past obscurity and not
the present high palmy state of Brighton. Our own recollections would
carry us back nearly a score of years, when the Pavilion or Marine Palace
was a plain, neat, villa-like building, with verandas to command a
prospect of the sea; and when the Steines scarcely merited the designation
of enclosures: when a roomy yellow-washed mansion occupied the upper end
of the old Steine, and was pointed to as once the house of Dr. Russell, to
whom Brighton owes much of its early fame; its site being now occupied by
a superb hotel: when Phoebe Hassell and Martha Gunn were the lionesses of
the place--the one by land and the other by sea: and when not a carriage
entered Brighton without the electioneering salute of half a score of blue
gownswomen with cards of their crazy machines to give you a
tenancy-at-will of the ocean. But, our quoted particulars of Brighton
invest it with a much earlier interest than our brief memory can supply.
They are historical as well as topographical, from the primitive records
of the place, and are accompanied by a view of the town from the sea, as
it appeared in the year 1743, or about 90 years since. For this and the
interesting details which accompany it we are indebted to a History of
Brighthelmston published by Dr. Anthony Rhelan towards the close of the
last century, and lately edited and reprinted by Mr. Mitchell of Brighton,
with the benevolent intention of aiding the funds of the Sussex County
Infirmary, by the profits arising from the sale of the work. It requires
an almost microscopic eye to distinguish the buildings in the Cut. The
Royal standard on the fort, is, by an error of the artist,
disproportionally large.) The town of Brighthelmston,[1] in the county of
Sussex, is situated on the banks of the sea, at the bottom of a bay of the
same name, formed to the east by Beachy-Head, and by Worthing point to the

The bay is a bold and deep shore exposed to the open sea: from the banks
or cliffs a clean gravel runs to the sea terminating in a hard sand, free
from every mixture of ooze, and those offensive beds of mud, so frequently
found at the mouths of rivers, and on many shores.

The town is built on a rising hill with a south-east exposition; defended
towards the north by hills, whose ascent is easy, and view pleasing;
bounded on the west by a fruitful and extensive cornfield, descending
gently from the Downs to the banks of the sea, and leading to Shoreham;
and on the east by a most beautiful lawn called the Steine, which runs
winding up into the country among hills, to the distance of some miles.

The soil here, and over all the south Downs, is a chalk rock covered with
earth of various kinds and depths in different places.

The country round Brighthelmston is open and free from woods, and finely
diversified with hills and valleys. Hence the advantage of exercise may be
always enjoyed in fair weather: it is ever cool on the hills, and a
shelter may be constantly found in the valleys from excess of wind.

The hills are in some places steep, but everywhere covered with a green
sward from the bottom to the top.[2] On the summit of these the prospect
is extensive and varied; towards the sea there is an uninterrupted view
from Beachy-head to the Isle of Wight; towards the land, or _weald_ side,
the view, in the opinion of the great Mr. Ray, is no where to be equalled;
and from this very prospect, compared with that of the Isle of Ely, he
infers the wisdom of God in the construction of hills.

The Downs here run parallel to the sea; the turf of them is remarkably
fine; they are from six to ten miles broad: so that this delightful
country cannot be deemed a confined one.

The merit of the situation of this town has within these few years
attracted a great resort of the principal gentry of this kingdom, and
engaged them in a summer residence here. And there is reason to believe,
that in the earliest times it was in the highest estimation. The altars of
the Druids, the only surviving remains of the ancient Britons, are no
where to be seen in greater number.[3] And although there are here no
traces of temples, no images here existing, yet does not their want in any
shape invalidate the supposition of this place's having been an original
residence of theirs, as it seems to have been a received principle in all
countries where Druidism prevailed, that the confining the Deity within
walls, or the representing him in any human figure, were unworthy of his
majesty, and unsuitable to his immensity. But the position of these altars,
and the local circumstances answering so exactly to their customary choice
of places, leave but little room to doubt of their having had a residence

The attachment of our ancestors to this place may be further illustrated
by our taking a view of the efforts they made to preserve it.

Suetonius, relating the invasion of Britain by Vespasian, says, "Tricies
cum hoste conflixit; duas validissimas gentes, superque xx oppida, et
Insulam Vectem Britanniae proximam in deditionem redegit." Cap. iv. Now,
that one of these nations inhabited the Downs of Sussex, seems probable
from their vicinity to the Isle of Wight, and in some measure confirmed by
the lines and intrenchments still subsisting between Brighthelmston and
Lewes, where the principal scene of action must have been, and bearing
every Roman mark.

That there was a Roman station in this neighbourhood is admitted by the
antiquarians, though its exact situation is not as yet ascertained. The
Portus Aldurni, placed by the learned Selden at Aldrington, two miles to
the west of Brighthelmston, is by the ingenious Tabor presumed to have
been at East Bourne, eighteen miles to the east of it: yet there are many
local and incidental circumstances belonging to this place, and which are
wanting in those towns, that render a conjecture probable as to its having
been a Roman station.

The Praepositus of the Exploratores, whose office was to discover the
state and motions of the enemy, and who was certainly in this part of
Sussex, could be no where more advantageously placed than in the elevated
situations of the strong camps at Hollingsbury and White-Hawke, commanding
a most extensive view of the whole coast from Beachy-Head to the Isle of
Wight. The form of this town is almost a perfect square; the streets are
built at right angles to each other, and its situation is to the south
east, the favourite one among the Romans. To these may be added, that an
urn has been some time ago dug up in this neighbourhood, containing a
thousand silver denarii marked from Antoninus Pius to Philip, during which
tract of time Britain was probably a Roman province. And, lastly, the
vestiges of a true Roman via running from Shoreham towards Lewes, at a
small distance above this town have been lately discovered by an ingenious
gentleman truly conversant in matters of this nature.

The light sometimes obtained in these dark matters from a similitude of
sounds in the ancient and modern names of places, is not to be had in
assisting the present conjecture. Its ancient one, as far as I can learn,
is no way discoverable; and its modern one may be owing either to this
town's belonging formerly to, or being countenanced in a particular manner
by a Bishop Brighthelm, who, during the Saxon government of the island,
lived in this neighbourhood: or perhaps may be deduced from the ships of
this town having their helms better ornamented than those of their
neighbouring ones.

It is true here are no hypocausts, Mosaic pavements, inscriptions, or any
other delicate monuments of Roman antiquity,[4] that might corroborate in
a stronger manner this supposition: these, if any such existed here, have
been defaced by time, or destroyed by the undiscerning inhabitants of the

During the Saxon aera, this town was almost the centre of the kingdom of
the South Saxons; and consequently could not be the scene of much action.
It submitted to the various revolutions which prevailed at different times,
until the Norman conquest.

The conqueror landed at Hastings forty miles distant to the east of this
town; so that his troops never came near it. Yet, the fate of England
being decided by the bloody engagement at Battel, this town, with many
other large possessions in the county, was granted to William de Warren,
who married the Conqueror's daughter: and he soon made it part of the
endowment of that rich priory, which he founded at Lewes.

This resigning of the town into the hands of monks was a fatal stroke to
its ancient greatness. Too attentive to their own immediate interest, and
too regardless of that of their vassals, as soon as they were in
possession of it, they laboured, and with success, to obtain an exemption
for it from supplying the king with ships, or affording him such other
succour, as a large and powerful maritime town ought to have done, on the
pretence of its being part of a religious estate.

(_To be concluded in our next_.)

[1] It appears to have been called Brighton in a terrier of lands,
dated in 1660.

[2] In the years 1800 and 1801, when wheat was at an unprecedented
price, the occupiers of farms on the South Downs converted much
of their downland into tillage, from which they acquired abundant
crops of corn. The green sward when once ploughed, can never be
restored to its former verdure, and although grass seeds have
been yearly sown in succession for more than 80 years upon down
formerly broken up and converted into arable land, the
distinctions between these parts and the original down is still
clearly perceptible.

[3] See the remains of a Druidical altar at Goldstone (Gor or Thor
stone) bottom, about a mile to the north-west of the town.

[4] A Mosaic pavement has been discovered at Lancing, within nine
miles west of the town.

* * * * *


* * * * *


Mr. Wilmshurst has nearly completed a fine copy, on glass, of Mr. Hilton's
celebrated picture of the Crucifixion. It consists of 118 squares, 15 by
21 inches each, fitted into copper frames, in a large centre and two sides;
in all 19 feet high, and 15 feet wide, intended for a Venetian window-case
in St. George's Church, Liverpool. The original picture was painted for
this purpose, by commission from the Corporation, in the year 1826, for
which the artist received 1,000 guineas. Perhaps in all the productions of
British art there is not a more appropriate subject for the embellishment
of a church, than Hilton's representation of this sublime event. The
countenance and figure of the crucified Saviour are admirably drawn: his
placid resignation is finely contrasted with the muscular figures of the
two thieves struggling in the last agonies of torture: the spike-nails and
blood-drops of the hands and feet, and the title on the cross are closely
preserved. The group of women at the foot of the cross, the lifeless form,
drooping hand, anxious eye, and gushing tear, the terrified and afflicted
populace, and the unperturbed devotional gaze of a few by-standers are too
among the masterly beauties of this composition. The lights are well kept,
and the entire effect of the Window is that of awe-inspiring grandeur.

It is somewhat curious, that on the evening Mr. Wilmshurst put together
his Liverpool Window, his larger Window of the Field of Cloth of Gold, was
totally destroyed by fire, and by the next morning all its glories were
melted (or vitrified) into tears.

* * * * *


* * * * *



When the winter day had past an' gane,
Twa wee burdies came into our hearth stane;
An' they lookit a'round them wi' little din,
As if they had living souls within.

"O, bonny burdies, come tell to me
If ye are twa burdies o' this countrye?
An' where ye were gaun when ye tint your gate,
A-winging the winter shower sae late?"

"We are cauld, we are cauld--ye maun let us bide,
For our father's gane, an' our mother's a bride:
But in her bride's bed though she be,
We would rather cour on the earth wi' thee!"

"O, bonny burdies, my heart is sair
To see twa motherless broods sae fair.
But flee away, burdies! flee away!
For I darenae bide wi' you till day."

"Ye maun let us bide till our feathers dry,
For the time of our trial's drawing nigh.
A voice will call at the hour eleven,
An' a naked sword appear in heaven!

"There's an offering to make, but not by men,
On altar as white as the snow of the glen--
There's a choice to be made, and a vow to pay,
And blood to spill ere the break of day."

"O, tell me, beings of marvellous birth,
If ye are twa creatures of heaven or earth?
For ye look an' ye speak, I watnae how--
But I'm fear'd, I'm fear'd, little burdies for you!"

"Ye needna be fear'd, for it's no our part
To injure the kind and the humble heart;
And those whose trust is in heaven high,
The Angel of God will aye be nigh.

We were twa sisters bred in a bower,
As gay as the lark an' as fair as the flower;
But few of the ills of this world we proved,
Till we were slain by the hands we loved.

Our bodies into the brake were flung,
To feed the hawks and the ravens young;
And there our little bones reclined,
And white they bleach'd in the winter wind.

Our youngest sister found them there,
And wiped them clean wi' her yellow hair;
And every day she sits and grieves,
And covers them o'er wi' the wabron leaves.

Then our twin souls they sought the sky,
And were welcome guests in the heavens high;
And we gat our choice through all the spheres
What lives to lead for a thousand years.

Then humble, old matron, lend us thine aid,
For this night the choice is to be made;
And we have sought thy lowly hearth
For the last advice thou giv'st on earth.

Say, shall we skim o'er this earth below,
Beholding its scenes of joy and woe;
And try to reward the virtuous heart,
And make the unjust and the sinner smart?

Or shall we choose the star of love,
In a holy twilight still to move;
Or fly to frolic, light and boon,
On the silver mountains of the moon?

O, tell us, for we hae nane beside!
Our daddy's gane, and our mammy's a bride.
She is blitliely laid in her bridal sheet,
But a spirit stands at her bed feet.

Ay, though she be laid in her bridal bed,
There is guiltless blood upon her head;
And on her soul the hue of a crime,
That will never wash out till the end of time.

Advise, advise! dear matron, advise!
For you are humble, devout, and wise.
We ask a last advice from you--
Our hour is come--what shall we do?"

"O, wondrous creatures, ye maun allow
I naething can ken of beings like you;
But ere the voice calls at eleven,
Go ask your Father who is in heaven."

Away, away, the burdies flew
Aye singing, "Adieu, kind heart, adieu!
They that hae blood on their hands may rue
Afore the day-beam kiss the dew.

There's naught sae heinous in human life
As taking a helpless baby's life;
There's naething sae kind aneath the sky
As cheering the heart that soon maun die."

The morning came wi' drift an' snaw,
And with it news frae the bridal-ha',
That death had been busy, and blood was spilt,
May Heaven preserve us all from guilt!

They tell of a deed--Believe't who can?
Such tale was never told by man;
The bridegroom is gone in fire and flood,
And the bridal-bed is steep'd with blood!

The poor auld matron died ere day,
And was found as life was passing away;
And twa bonny burdies sang in the bed,
The one at the feet, the other the head.

Now I have heard tales, and told them too,
Hut this is beyond what I could do;
And far hae I ridden, and far hae I gane,
But burdies like these I never saw nane.

_Fraser's Magazine._

* * * * *


Elliston was, in his day, the Napoleon of Drury-lane, but, like the
conqueror at Austerlitz, he suffered his declensions, and the Surrey
became to him a St. Helena. However, once an eagle always an eagle; and
Robert William was no less aquiline in the day of adversity than in his
palmy time of patent prosperity. He was born to carry things with a high
hand, and he but fulfilled his destiny. The anecdote which we are about to
relate, is one of the ten thousand instances of his lordly bearing. When,
the season before last, "no effects" was written over the treasury-door of
Covent-garden theatre, it will be remembered that several actors proffered
their services _gratis_, in aid of the then humble, but now arrogant and
persecuting establishment. Among these patriots was Mr. T.P. Cooke--(it
was just after his promotion to the honorary rank of Admiral of the Blue).
The Covent-garden managers jumped at the offer of the actor, who was in
due time announced as having, in the true play-bill style, "most
generously volunteered his services for six nights!" Cooke was advertised
for _William_; Elliston having "most generously lent [N.B. this was _not_
put in the bill] his musical score of _Black-Eyed Susan_, together with
the identical captains' coats, worn at a hundred-and-fifty court-martials
at the Surrey Theatre!" Cooke--the score--the coats, were all accepted,
and made the most of by the now prosecuting managers of Covent-garden, who
cleared out of the said Cooke, score, and coats, one thousand pounds at
half-price on the first six nights of their exhibition. This is a fact;
nay, we have lately heard it stated that all the sum was specially banked,
to be used in a future war against the minors. Cooke was then engaged for
twelve more nights, at ten pounds per night--a hackney-coach bringing him
each night, hot from the Surrey stage, where he had previously made
bargemen weep, and thrown nursery-maids into convulsions. Well, time drove
on, and Cooke drove into the country. Elliston, who was always classical,
having a due veneration for that divine "creature," Shakspeare, announced,
on the anniversary of the poet's birth-day, a representation of the
Stratford Jubilee. The wardrobe was ransacked, the property-man was on the
alert; and, after much preparation, every thing was in readiness for the
imposing spectacle.--No! There was one thing forgotten--one important
"property!" _Bottom_ must be a "feature" in the procession, and there was
no ass's head! it would not do for the acting manager to apologize for the
absence of the head--no, _he_ could not have the face to do it. A head
must be procured! Every one was in doubt and trepidation, when hope
sounded in the clarion-like voice of Robert William. "Ben!" exclaimed
Elliston, "take pen, ink, and paper, and write as follows!" Ben (Mr.
Benjamin Fairbrother, the late manager's most trusty secretary) sat, "all
ear" and Elliston, with finger on nether lip, proceeded.--

"My dear Charles,

I am about to represent, 'with entirely new dresses, scenery, and
decorations,' the Stratford Jubilee, in honour of the sweet swan of Avon.
My scene-painter is the finest artist (except your Grieve) in Europe--my
tailor is no less a genius, and I lately raised the salary of my
property-man. This will give you some idea of the capabilities of the
Surrey Theatre. However, in the hurry of "getting up," we have forgotten
one property--every thing is well with us but our _Bottom_, and he wants a
head. As it is too late to manufacture, not but that my property-man is
the cleverest in the world (except the property-man of Covent-garden), can
_you_, lend me an ass's head, and believe me, my dear Charles,

Yours ever truly,


"P.S. I had forgotten to acknowledge the return of the _Black-Eyed Susan_
score, and coats. You were most welcome to them."

The letter was dispatched to Covent-garden Theatre, and in a brief time
the bearer returned with the following answer:--


It is with the most acute pain that I am compelled to refuse your
trifling request. You are aware, my dear Sir, of the unfortunate situation
of Covent-garden Theatre; it being at the present moment, with all the
'dresses, scenery, and decorations,' in the Court of Chancery, I cannot
exercise that power which my friendship would dictate. I have spoken to
Bartley, and he agrees with me (indeed, he always does), that I cannot
lend you an ass's head--he is an authority on such a subject--without
risking a reprimand from the Lord High Chancellor. Trusting to your
generosity, and to your liberal construction of my refusal--and hoping
that it will in no way interrupt that mutually cordial friendship that has
ever subsisted between us.

Believe me, ever yours,


"P.S. When I next see you advertised for _Rover_, I intend to leave myself
out of the bill to come and see it."

Of course this letter did not remain long unanswered. Ben was again in
requisition, and the following was the result of his labours:--


I regret the situation of Covent-garden Theatre--I also, for your sake,
deeply regret that the law does not permit you to send me the 'property'
in question. I knew that law alone could prevent you; for were it not for
the vigilance of Equity, such is my opinion of the management of
Covent-garden, that I am convinced, if left to the dictates of its own
judgment, it would be enabled to spare asses' heads, not to the Surrey
atone, but to every theatre in Christendom.

Yours ever truly,


"P.S. My wardrobe-keeper informs me that there are no less than seven
buttons missing from the captains' coats. However, I have ordered their
places to be instantaneously filled by others."

We entreat our readers not to receive the above as a squib of invention.
We will not pledge ourselves that the letters are _verbatim_ from the
originals; but the loan of the Surrey music and coats to Covent-garden,
with the refusal of Covent-garden's ass's head to the Surrey, is "true as
holy writ."

_Monthly Magazine._

* * * * *



This is styled by the publisher "The Child's _Annual;_" we do not think
reasonably so, since instruction is suited for all times. It is a
tolerably thick volume, and contains the _Easies_ of Grammar, Geography,
Arithmetic, Natural History, Punctuation, History, Poetry, Music, and
Dancing; with outlines of Agriculture, Anatomy, Architecture, Astronomy,
Botany, and other branches of science and knowledge--a Chronology and
description of the London public buildings. The contents, to be sure, are
multifarious; but the book is we think made of a series of books to be
purchased separately. Every page has a coloured cut of a very gay order.
Cottages have yellow roofs and pink doors; and shopkeepers are dressed in
crimson and orange. Some of the grammatical illustrations are droll: a
heavy old fellow, cross-legged, with his hands folded on a stick is
_myself_; Punch is an _active verb_; a wedding might have illustrated the
conjunction; four in hand is a preposition. In punctuation, a child asking
what o'clock it is, illustrates a note of interrogation. We could have
supplied the editor with the Colon: a little girl who had much difficulty
in understanding its use, one day complained that a pain in her stomach
was as bad as a colon. The pictures in Geography are not so good as they
might have been; and it would have been easy to give correct outlines of
animals, since others mislead children. Music made easy is better, as are
Steps to Dancing. The Chronology is faulty and ill-adapted for children:
what do the little dears want to know of the sale of Cobbett's Register,
or Mr. Fletcher and Miss Dick. There are certain things which children
should know, and others which they should not hear of. Show them as many
of the virtues of mankind as you please: prepare the soil well, and there
will be less chance of vicious weeds. Altogether this book merits
recommendation. It is nicely bound, as the Guinea Annual folks say, partly
in _Arabesque._

* * * * *


A publisher who pays much regard to usefulness and economy in reprints has
put forth _Buchan's Domestic Medicine_ for something less than a crown,
with a supplementary "Cholera Morbus, its history, symptoms, mode of
treatment, antidotes,&c." By the way, we have often thought Buchan's book
like the Dead Sea: you cannot fall into the latter without some of its
water incrusting on you, and you cannot read Buchan without feeling an
ache. Its popularity is founded upon the hackneyed adage "the knowledge of
a disease is half its cure." People will pore over its sea of calamities
till they almost fall into the fire, or get scalded with the water from a
kettle, and then turn to the Index, Scalds, page 326: perhaps this is a
good plan to test the practical value of a book, as the surgeon scalded
two fingers and plunged one into turpentine and the other into spirits of
wine to test their respective services in case of a scald.

Here too we may notice a cheap _Companion to the Family Medicine Chest,_
with an alphabetical arrangement of Medicines, their properties, and plain
rules for taking them; with the Cholera, of course, as a rider, and
cautions respecting suspended animation and poisons. The little
shillingsworth is in its fifteenth edition, so that many thousand persons
must have taken many million doses by its prescription, and in some cases
become their own medicine chests, with this book as their companion.

* * * * *


Readers who delight to slake their thirst for knowledge from the deep and
pure wells of our olden literature will rejoice to hear of a cheap and
elegant reprint of this beautiful little book. Perchance some book-buyer
need be told that the above is a book to live by--an invaluable legacy of
a parish priest to his brethren and the world. The author George Herbert,
was born in 1593, near Montgomery, in the castle that had been
successively happy in the Herberts, as Isaak Walton observes, "a family
that hath been blest with men of remarkable wisdom." Herbert was educated
at Cambridge, where he obtained the friendship of "the great secretary of
nature and all learning, Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam," who consulted
Herbert "before he would expose any of his books to be printed, and
dedicated a version of the Psalms to him as the best judge of divine
poetry." Herbert was patronized by James I. who, for an elegant Latin
oration, gave him a sinecure of 120_l_. a-year, for in those days the only
Royal Society of Literature was in the palace; it is now among subjects,
and too little in the Court. Upon the death of James, Herbert's Court
hopes died also, and he betook himself to a retreat from London. In this
retirement, "he had many conflicts with himself, whether he should return
to the painted pleasures of court life or betake himself to the study of
divinity, and enter into sacred orders." He chose the latter. He married
well. In 1630 he was inducted into the parsonage of Bemerton, a mile from
Salisbury; the third day after which, he said to his wife, "You are now a
minister's wife, and must now so far forget your father's house, as not to
claim a precedence of any one of your parishioners; for you are to know
that a priest's wife can challenge no precedence or place, but that which
she purchases by her obliging humility; and I am sure, places so purchased
do best become them. And let me tell you, that I am so good a herald, as
to assure you that this is truth." These rules his meek wife observed with
cheerful willingness. Herbert now set about his "Priest to the Temple: or
the Country Parson, his character, and rule of Holy Life." Unlike many
doctrinists, he practised his own rules: he was a self-example of his own
precepts, and his book was the rule of his own life; or, as Walton more
beautifully explains it "his behaviour towards God and man may be said to
be a practical comment on the holy rules set down in that useful book."
Thus, he sets forth the Diversities of a Pastor's life: the Parson's life,
knowledge, praying, preaching, Sundays, house, courtesy, charity, church,
comfort, eye, mirth, &c.; his prayers before and after Sermon, with a few
poetical pieces of quaint but touching sweetness. His poetry has been
censured for its point and antithesis; but he cultivated the poetical art
to convey moral and devotional sentiments; others excel him in smoothness
of versification, but not in benevolent purpose. Herbert though himself a
pattern of humility, was younger brother of the celebrated Lord Herbert of
Cherbury, whom Horace Walpole abuses for his beauty and gallant bearing,
tinctured it must be allowed, with affected notions of high birth. But the
gay philosopher of Cherbury lived in the last days of chivalry, and had
their light but gleamed upon Walpole, he would, in all probability, have
borne the very qualities which he so loudly censures in Herbert. The
pastor Herbert's wife was nearly related to Lord Danby, so that the
caution which we have quoted was perhaps requisite. As Herbert sank his
own high birth, it was but fit that his wife should forget hers also.

* * * * *


What a change from grave to gay--from the moral antitheses of Herbert's
_Country Parson_ to the fun and folly of Anstey's New Bath Guide, with
etchings by George Cruikshank, and cuts admirably designed and engraved by
S. Williams--as Mr. Simkin dressing for the ball:

But what with my Nivernois hat can compare,
Bag-wig and laced ruffles, and black solitaire,
And what can a man of true fashion denote,
Like an ell of good riband tyed under the throat.

and "We three blunder-heads," two frizzled physicians of the last century,
and the invariably accompanying cane, or Esculapian wand. This edition is
by Mr. Britton, who has prefixed a dedication and an essay on the genius
of Anstey, both of which sparkle with humour and lively anecdote; and an
amusing sketch of Bath as it is. Among the anecdotical notes to the Poem
it is stated that Dodsley acknowledged about ten years after he had
purchased the "Bath Guide," that the profits from its sale were greater
than on any other book he had published. He generously gave up the
copyright to the author in 1777, who had 200_l_. for the copyright after
the second edition. Yet Dodsley, with all his liberality lived to be rich,
though he originally was footman to the Hon. Mrs. Lowther; so true is it
that genius and perseverance will find their way upwards from any station.

There is a pleasant anecdote of the late John Palmer, who, it will be
remembered, was somewhat stiltish. "Palmer, whose father was a
bill-sticker, and who had occasionally practised in the same humble
occupation himself, strutting one evening in the green-room at Drury-Lane
Theatre, in a pair of glittering buckles, a gentleman present remarked
that they greatly resembled diamonds. 'Sir,' said Palmer, with warmth, 'I
would have you to know, that I never wear anything but diamonds.' 'Jack,
your pardon,' replied the gentleman, 'I remember the time when you wore
nothing but _paste!_' This produced a loud laugh, which was heightened by
Parsons jogging him on the elbow, and drily saying, 'Jack, why don't you
_stick him against the wall?_'"

Another. Mr. Quin, upon his first going to Bath, found he was charged most
exorbitantly for every thing; and, at the end of a week, complained to
Nash, who had invited him thither, as the cheapest place in England for a
man of taste and a _bon vivant_. The master of the ceremonies, who knew
that Quin relished a pun, replied, "They have acted by you on truly
Christian principles." "How so?" says Quin. "Why," answered Nash, "you
were a _stranger_, and they _took you in_." "Ay" rejoined Quin; "but they
have fleeced me, instead of clothed me."

* * * * *


Is a well-executed compendium for schools, and will be amusing by any
fire-side. It not merely contains the great names, but abounds with
curious notes on domestic life in each reign, with facts and calculations
which must have cost the editor, Mr. Ince, many days labour. The period
pompously termed "the Georgian Aera" is not so copious us the editor
wishes, but a little more forethought on his part or that of the printer
would better satisfy himself and the public.

* * * * *


_From Mr. Bulwer's Novel of "Eugene Aram,"_ vol. i.

_Love of Nature_.--It has been observed and there is a world of homely, ay,
of legislative knowledge in the observation, that wherever you see a
flower in a cottage-garden, or a bird at the window, you may feel sure
that the cottagers are better and wiser than their neighbours.

_Humour_.--Where but in farces is the phraseology of the humorist always
the same?

_Conversation Tactics_.--A quick, short, abrupt turn, that retrenching all
superfluities of pronoun and conjunction, and marching at once upon the
meaning of the sentence, had in it a military and Spartan significance,
which betrayed how difficult it often is for a man to forget that he had
been a corporal.

_Music of Water_.--You saw hard by the rivulet darkening and stealing away,
till your sight, though not your ear, lost it among the woodland.

_A fine Fellow_--He had strong principles as well as warm feelings, and a
fine and resolute sense of honour utterly impervious to attack. It was
impossible to be in his company an hour, and not see that he was a man to
be respected. It was equally impossible to live with him a week, and not
see that he was a man to be beloved.

_Marriage_.--The greatest happiness which the world is capable of
bestowing--the society and love of one in whom we could wish for no change,
and beyond whom we have no desire.

_Fatality_.--What evil cannot corrupt, Fate seldom spares.

_Widowhood_.--If the blow did not crush, at least it changed him.

_Comfort of Children_.--As his nephew and his motherless daughters grew up,
they gave an object to his seclusion, and a relief to his reflections. He
found a pure and unfailing delight in watching the growth of their young
minds, and guiding their differing dispositions; and, as time at length
enabled them to return his affection, and appreciate his cares, he became
once more sensible that he had a home.

_Intellectual Beauty_.--Her eyes of a deep blue, wore a thoughtful and
serene expression, and her forehead, higher and broader than it usually is
in women, gave promise of a certain nobleness of intellect, and added
dignity, but a feminine dignity, to the more tender characteristics of her

_A Village Beauty_.--The sunlight of a happy and innocent heart sparkled
on her face, and gave a beam it gladdened you to behold, to her quick
hazel eye, and a smile that broke out from a thousand dimples.

_An unformed mind_.--Cheerful to outward seeming, but restless, fond of
change, and subject to the melancholy and pining mood common to young and
ardent minds.

_Dependence_.--What in the world makes a man of just pride appear so
unamiable as the sense of dependence.

_Two modes of sitting in a chair_.--The one short, dry, fragile, and
betraying a love of ease in his unbuttoned vest, and a certain lolling,
see-sawing method of balancing his body upon his chair; the other, erect
and solemn, and as steady on his seat as if he were nailed to it.

_A Soldier's simile_.--Your shy dog is always a deep one: give me a man
who looks me in the face as he would a cannon.

_A Landlord's Independence_.--The indifference of a man well to do, and
not ambitious of half-pence. "There's my wife by the door, friend; go,
tell her what you want."

* * * * *


_The Opera_. From the number of French and German operas announced for
performance at the King's Theatre, it should no longer be called the
_Italian_ Opera, but the _Foreign Opera_.

_Tooth Ache_.--Powdered alum not only relieves this annoyance, but
prevents the decay of the tooth.

_Egypt_.--The French are just at this moment crazy for Egyptian
antiquities. "While Champollion (_on dit_)is about to unrol the mystic
papyri in all their primitive significance, the celebrated Caillaud has
preceded him with the First Numbers of a work on the Arts and Trades of
the Egyptians, Nubians, and Ethiopians; their customs, civil, and domestic,
with the manners and customs of the modern inhabitants of these countries."
--_For. Quart. Rev._

_Anne Boleyn_.--M. Crapelet, the celebrated Parisian printer, has just
written and printed a beautiful little volume entitled _Anne Boleyn_,
which is spoken of as "a careful and pains-taking attempt to exhibit a
character hitherto strangely disfigured by party writers, in its true

_Root of the Devil_.--There is a strange root called the Devil's Bit
Scabious, of which quaint old Gerard observes: "The great part of the root
seemeth to be bitten away: old fantasticke charmers report that the devil
did bite it for envie, because it is an herbe that hath so many good
virtues, and is so beneficial to mankinde." Sir James Smith as quaintly
observes, "the malice of the devil has unhappily been so successful, that
no virtue can now be found in the remainder of the root or herb."--
_Knowledge for the People._ Part xiv.

_Onions_.--The British onion is of the worst description, those of Egypt
and India being considered great delicacies. Their strong, disagreeable
odour is attributable to the sulphur which they contain, and which is
deposited by their juice, when exposed to heat.--_Ibid_.

_Spanish Liquorice_ is so called from its being manufactured only in
_Spain_ and Sicily. The root grows naturally in those countries and in
Languedoc, and in such abundance in some parts of Sicily, that it is
considered the greatest scourge to the cultivator.--_Ibid_. (Our brewers
and distillers would not be of this opinion were liquorice indigenous to
this country.)

_Heat in Plants_.--Lamarck tells us of a plant, which during a few hours
of its growth, is "so hot as to seem burning." Its greatest heat is stated
at nearly 45 degrees above the temperature of the air in which the plant
was growing.

_Iceland_ is perhaps the most deplorable spot on the world's map. "Not
very long ago it counted at least 100,000 inhabitants. Depopulated by time,
which has more than once introduced frightful pestilence, there are now
not half that number. Their occupation is that of shepherds and fishermen,
for the bitterness of the climate makes all agricultural labours vain or
unproductive. They are scattered over the wide wastes of the country, far
distant, in huts and farms, and it was only in 1787 that any portion of
the population was gathered into towns, if towns may be called the two
spots where a few families have their abode together."--_For. Quart. Rev._

_Tobacco and Snuff_.--Tobacco is a narcotic and depressing poison, whose
effect on the nerves and stomach is to destroy the appetite, prevent the
perfect digestion of the food, create an unnatural thirst, and render the
individual who uses it nervous and otherwise infirm. Snuff destroys the
sense of smell, and causes a very disagreeable alteration in the voice. It
also produces head-ache in the course of time; and by the distillation of
its juice which falls from the posterior nostrils into the stomach during
sleep, gives rise to weak and painful digestion.--_Dr. Granville_.

_Early Rising_.--From March to November, at least, no cause, save sickness,
or one of equal weight, should retain us in bed a moment after the sun has
risen.--_Dr. Granville_. (What say the lazy Londoners to this? In Paris,
shops are opened and set out for the day before six o'clock in the
mornings of spring, summer, and great part of autumn.)

_Food_.--Many articles of consumption, introduced in the reign of Henry
VIII, the following distich embraces a few:--

Turkey, carp, hops, pricard, and beer.
Came into England all in one year. (1525.)

_Ince's Outline of English History._

* * * * *

_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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