The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, Vol. 17, No.


VOL. 17, NO. 488.] SATURDAY, MAY 7, 1831. [PRICE 2d.

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This venerable structure, as we explained in No. 486 of _The Mirror_, is
situated in the lower ward or court of Windsor Castle. It stands in the
centre, and in a manner, divides the court into two parts. On the north
or inner side are the houses and apartments of the Dean and Canons of
St. George's Chapel, with those of the minor canons, clerks, and other
officers; and on the south and west sides of the outer part are the
houses of the Poor Knights of Windsor.

The Engraving represents the south front of the Chapel as it presents
itself to the passenger through Henry the Eighth's Gateway, the
principal entrance to the Lower Ward. The entrance to the Chapel, as
shown in the Engraving, is that generally used, and was formed by
command of George the Fourth; through which his Majesty's remains were
borne, according to a wish expressed some time previous to his death.

The exterior of the Chapel requires but few descriptive details. The
interior will be found in our last volume.

It is a beautiful structure, in the purest style of the Pointed
architecture, and was founded by Edward the Third, in 1377, for the
honour of the Order of the Garter. But however noble the first design,
it was improved by Edward the Fourth and Henry the Seventh, in whose
reign the famous Sir Reg. Bray, K.G., assisted in ornamenting the chapel
and completing the roof. The architecture of the inside has ever been
esteemed for its great beauty; and, in particular, the stone vaulting is
reckoned an excellent piece of workmanship. It is an ellipsis, supported
by lofty pillars, whose ribs and groins sustain the whole roof, every
part of which has some different device well finished, as the arms of
several of our kings, great families, &c. On each side of the choir are
the stalls of the Sovereign and Knights of the Garter, with the helmet,
mantling, crest, and sword of each knight, set up over his stall, on a
canopy of ancient carving curiously wrought. Over the canopy is affixed
the banner of each knight blazoned on silk, and on the backs of the
stalls are the titles of the knights, with their arms neatly engraved
and emblazoned on copper.

There are several small chapels in this edifice, in which are the
monuments of many illustrious persons; particularly of Edward, Earl
of Lincoln, a renowned naval warrior; George Manners, Lord Roos, and
Anne, his consort, niece of Edward the Fourth; Anne, Duchess of Exeter,
mother of that lady, and sister to the king; Sir Reginald Bray, before
mentioned; and Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, who married the sister
of King Henry the Eighth.

At the east end of St. George's Chapel is a freestone edifice, built by
Henry the Seventh, as a burial-place for himself and his successors; but
afterwards altering his purpose, he began the more noble structure at
Westminster; and this remained neglected until Cardinal Wolsey obtained
a grant of it from Henry the Eighth, and, with a profusion of expense,
began here a sumptuous monument for himself, whence this building
obtained the name of Wolsey's _Tomb House_. This monument was so
magnificently built, that it exceeded that of Henry the Seventh, in
Westminster Abbey; and at the time of the cardinal's disgrace, the tomb
was so far executed, that Benedetto, a statuary of Florence, received
4,250 ducats for what he had already done; and 380l. 18s. had been paid
for gilding only half of this monument. The cardinal dying soon after
his disgrace, was buried in the cathedral at York, and the monument
remained unfinished. In 1646, the statues and figures of gilt copper,
of exquisite workmanship, were sold. James the Second converted this
building into a Popish chapel, and mass was publicly performed here.
The ceiling was painted by Verrio, and the walls were finely ornamented
and painted; but the whole having been neglected since the reign of
James the Second, it fell into a complete state of decay, from which,
however, it was some years ago retrieved by George the Third, who had it
magnificently completed (under the direction of the late James Wyatt,
Esq.) in accordance with the original style, and a _mausoleum_
constructed within, as a burial-place for the royal family.

Windsor Castle, as the reader may recollect, was magnificently re-built
by William of Wykeham, who was Clerk of the Works to Edward the Third,
in 1356. Little now remains of Wykeham's workmanship, save the round
tower, and this has just been raised considerably. Wykeham had power
to press all sorts of artificers, and to provide stone, timber, and all
necessary materials for conveyance and erection. Indeed, Edward caused
workmen to be impressed out of London and several counties, to the
number of five or six hundred, by writs directed to the various
sheriff's, who were commanded to take security of the masons and
joiners, that they should not leave Windsor without permission of
the architect. What a contrast are these strong measures with the
scrutinized votes of money recently made for the renovation of the

* * * * *


(_To the Editor._)

To the elucidation of the word Britannia, contained in your 486th
number, I beg to add the opinion of the same author on the subject
of Albion:--

"Albion (the most ancient name of this Isle) containeth Englande and
Scotlande: of the beginning (origin) of which name haue been sundrie
opinios (opinions): One late feigned by him, which first prynted the
Englishe Chronicle,[1] wherein is neither similitude of trouth, reasone,
nor honestie: I mean the fable of the fiftie doughters of Dioclesian,
kyng of Syria, where neuer any other historic maketh mencion of a kyng
of Syria, so named: Also that name is Greke, and no part of the language
of Syria. Moreouer the coming of theim from Syria in a shippe or boate
without any marynours (mariners) thorowe (through) the sea called
_Mediterraneum_, into the occean, and so finally to finde this He, and
to inhabit it, * * * * is both impossible, and much reproche to this
noble Realme, to ascribe hir first name and habitation, to such
inuention. Another opinion is (which hath a more honeste similitude)
that it was named _Albion, ab albis rupibus_, of white rockes, because
that unto them, that come by sea, the bankes and rockes of this He doe
appeare whyte. Of this opinion I moste mervayle (marvel), because it is
written of great learned men, First, _Albion_ is no latin worde, nor
hath the analogie, that is to saie, proportion or similitude of latine.
For who hath founde this syllable _on_, at the ende of a latin woord.
And if it should have baen (been) so called for the whyte colour of the
rockes, men would have called called it (I believe this to be a
misprint) _Alba_, or _Albus_, or Album. In Italy were townes called
Alba[2] and in Asia a countrey called Albania, and neither of them took
their beginning of whyte rockes, or walles, as ye may read in books of
geographic: nor the water of the ryuer called _Albis_, semeth any whiter
than other water. But if where auncient remembraunce of the beginning
of thinges lacketh, it may be leeful for men to use their conjectures,
than may myne be as well accepted as Plinies (although he incomparably
excelled me in wisedome e doctrine) specially if it may appeer, that
my coiecture (conjecture) shal approch more neere to the similitude
of trouth. Wherfore I will also sett foorth mine opinion onely to
the intent to exclude fables, lackyng eyther honestie or reasonable
similitudes. Whan the Greekes began first to prosper, and their cities
became populous, and wared puissaunt, they which trauailed on the seas,
and also the yles in the seas called _Hellespontus, AEigeum and Creticu_
(m), after that thei knewe perfectly the course of sailynge, and had
founden thereby profyte, they by little and little attempted to serch
and finde out the commodities of outwarde countrees: and like as
Spaniardes and Portugalls haue late doone, they experienced to seeke out
countries before unknown. And at laste passynge the streictes of
Marrocke (Morocco) they entered into the great occean sea, where they
fond (found) dyvers and many Iles. Among which they perceiuing this Ile
to be not onely the greatest in circuite, but also most plenteouse of
every necessary to man, the earth moste apte to bring forth," &c. The
learned prelate goes on to enumerate the natural advantages of our
country. He continues--"They wanderynge and reioysinge at their good and
fortunate arrival, named this yle in Greeke _Olbion_, which in Englishe
signifieth happy."

_Foley Place._


[1] Holinshed.

[2] Alba, the city of Romulus, the founder of Rome, was called so
from a white sow found there by AEneas.--Vide Livy, lib. i

Cum tibi sollicito secreti ad fluminis undam
Litoreis ingens inventa sub illicibus sus,
Triginta capitum foetus enixa jacebit,
Alba, solo recubans, albi circum ubera nati:
Is locus urbis erit ei.

Virgil AEneid, lib. iii. v. 390.

When, in the shady shelter of a wood
And near the margin of a gentle flood,
Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground,
With thirty sucking young encompassed round;
The dam and offspring white as falling snow:
These on thy city shall their name bestow, &c.


* * * * *


(_For the Mirror._)

"Preach to the storm, or reason with despair,
But tell not misery's son that life is fair"

I mark'd his eye--it beam'd with gladness,
His ceaseless smile and joyous air,
His infant soul had ne'er felt sadness,
Nor kenn'd he yet but _life was fair._
His chubby cheek with genuine mirth
Blown out--while all around him smiled,
And fairy-land to him seemed earth,
I envied him, unwitting child.

I look'd again--his eye was flush'd
With passion proud and deep delight,
But often o'er his brow there gush'd
A blackened cloud which made it night,
But still the cloud would wear away,
(His youthful cheek was red and rare,)
And still his heart beat light and gay,
Still did he fancy _life was fair._

Again I looked--another change--
The darkened eye, the visage wan,
Told me that sorrow had been there,
Told me that time had made him man.
His brow was overcast, and deep
Had care, the demon, furrow'd there,
I heard him sigh with anguish deep,
"_Oh! tell me not that life is fair._"


* * * * *


(_To the Editor._)

The philosopher was born in the room lighted by the upper window on the
right, in your Engraving No. 487. It is a small, plain apartment, having
few indications of former respectability.

In the garden of Barley Wood, near Wrington, the residence of the
religious and sentimental Hannah More, stands an urn commemorative
of Locke, the gift of Mrs. Montague, with the following inscription:

Born in this village.
This memorial is erected
Mrs. Montague,
and presented to


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* * * * *


We quote the following "last scene of poor Jack's eventful history" from
Capt. Basil Hall's _Fragments of Voyages and Travel_, a work, observes
the _Quarterly Review_, "sure sooner or later, to be in everybody's

"It need not be mentioned, that the surgeon is in constant attendance
upon the dying man, who has generally been removed from his hammock to a
cot, which is larger and more commodious, and is placed within a screen
on one side of the sick bay, as the hospital of the ship is called. It
is usual for the captain to pass through this place, and to speak to the
men every morning; and I imagine there is hardly a ship in the service
in which wine, fresh meat, and any other supplies recommended by the
surgeon, are not sent from the tables of the captain and officers to
such of the sick men as require a more generous diet than the ship's
stores provided. After the carver in the gun-room has helped his
messmates, he generally turns to the surgeon, and says, 'Doctor, what
shall I send to the sick?' But, even without this, the steward would
certainly be taken to task were he to omit inquiring, as a matter of
course, what was wanted in the sick bay. The restoration of the health
of the invalids by such supplies is perhaps not more important, however,
than the moral influence of the attention on the part of the officers.
I would strongly recommend every captain to be seen (no matter for how
short a time) by the bed-side of any of his crew whom the surgeon may
report as dying. Not occasionally, and in the flourishing style with
which we read of great generals visiting hospitals, but uniformly and in
the quiet sobriety of real kindness, as well as hearty consideration for
the feelings of a man falling at his post in the service of his country.
He who is killed in action has a brilliant Gazette to record his
exploits, and the whole country may be said to attend his death-bed. But
the merit is not less--or may even be much greater--of the soldier or
sailor who dies of a fever in a distant land--his story untold, and his
sufferings unseen. In warring against climates unsuited to his frame,
he may have encountered, in the public service, enemies often more
formidable than those who handle pike and gun. There should be nothing
left undone, therefore, at such a time, to show not only to the dying
man, but to his shipmates and his family at home, that his services are
appreciated. I remembered, on one occasion, hearing the captain of a
ship say to a poor fellow who was almost gone, that he was glad to see
him so cheerful at such a moment; and begged to know if he had anything
to say. 'I hope, sir,' said the expiring seaman with a smile, 'I have
done my duty to your satisfaction;' 'That you have, my lad,' said his
commander, 'and to the satisfaction of your country, too.' 'That is all
I wanted to know, sir,' replied the man. These few commonplace words
cost the captain not five minutes of his time, but were long recollected
with gratitude by the people under his orders, and contributed, along
with many other graceful acts of considerate attention, to fix his

"If a sailor who knows he is dying, has a captain who pleases him,
he is very likely to send a message by the surgeon to beg a visit--not
often to trouble his commander with any commission, but merely to say
something at parting. No officer, of course, would ever refuse to grant
such an interview, but it appears to me it should always be volunteered;
for many men may wish it, whose habitual respect would disincline them
to take such a liberty, even at the moment when all distinctions are
about to cease.

"Very shortly after poor Jack dies, he is prepared for his deep-sea
grave by his messmates, who, with the assistance of the sailmaker, and
in the presence of the master-at-arms, sew him up in his hammock, and,
having placed a couple of cannon-shot at his feet, they rest the body
(which now not a little resembles an Egyptian mummy) on a spare grating.
Some portion of the bedding and clothes are always made up in the
package--apparently to prevent the form being too much seen. It is then
carried aft, and, being placed across the after-hatchway, the union
jack is thrown over all. Sometimes it is placed between two of the guns,
under the half deck; bat generally, I think, he is laid where I have
mentioned, just abaft the mainmast. I should have mentioned before, that
as soon as the surgeon's ineffectual professional offices are at an end,
he walks to the quarter-deck, and reports to the officer of the watch
that one of his patients has just expired. At whatever hour of the day
or night this occurs, the captain is immediately made acquainted with
the circumstance.

"Next day, generally about eleven o'clock, the bell on which the
half-hours are struck, is tolled for the funeral, and all who choose
to be present, assemble on the gangways, booms, and round the mainmast,
while the forepart of the quarter-deck is occupied by the officers. In
some ships--and it ought perhaps to be so in all--it is made imperative
on the officers and crew to attend the ceremony. If such attendance be
a proper mark of respect to a professional brother--as it surely is--it
ought to be enforced, and not left to caprice. There may, indeed, be
times of great fatigue, when it would harass men and officers,
needlessly, to oblige them to come on deck for every funeral, and upon
such occasions the watch on deck may be sufficient. Or, when some dire
disease gets into a ship, and is cutting down her crew by its daily and
nightly, or it maybe hourly ravages, and when, two or three times in a
watch, the ceremony must be repeated, those only, whose turn it is to be
on deck, need be assembled. In such fearful times, the funeral is
generally made to follow close upon the death.

"While the people are repairing to the quarter-deck, in obedience to
the summons of the bell, the grating on which the body is placed, being
lifted from the main-deck by the messmates of the man who has died, is
made to rest across the lee-gangway. The stanchions for the man-ropes
of the side are unshipped, and an opening made at the after-end of the
hammock netting, sufficiently large to allow a free passage. The body is
still covered by the flag already mentioned, with the feet projecting
a little over the gunwale, while the messmates of the deceased arrange
themselves on each side. A rope, which is kept out of sight in these
arrangements, is then made fast to the grating, for a purpose which will
be seen presently. When all is ready, the chaplain, if there be one on
board, or, if not, the captain, or any of the officers he may direct
to officiate, appears on the quarter-deck and commences the beautiful
service, which, though but too familiar to most ears, I have observed,
never fails to rivet the attention even of the rudest and least
reflecting. Of course, the bell has ceased to toll, and every one stands
in silence and uncovered as the prayers are read. Sailors, with all
their looseness of habits, are well disposed to be sincerely religious;
and when they have fair play given them, they will always, I believe,
be found to stand on as good vantage ground, in this respect, as their
fellow-countrymen on shore. Be this as it may, there can be no more
attentive, or apparently reverent auditory, than assembles on the deck
of a ship of war, on the occasion of a shipmate's burial.

"The land service for the burial of the dead contains the following
words: 'Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God, of his great mercy,
to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we
therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope,' &c. Every one I am
sure, who has attended the funeral of a friend--and whom will this not
include?--must recollect the solemnity of that stage of the ceremony,
where, as the above words are pronounced, there are cast into the grave
three successive portions of earth, which, falling on the coffin, send
up a hollow, mournful sound, resembling no other that I know. In the
burial service at sea, the part quoted above is varied in the following
very striking and solemn manner:--'Forasmuch,' &c.--'we therefore commit
his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the
resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up her dead, and the
life of the world to come,' &c. At the commencement of this part of the
service, one of the seamen stoops down, and disengages the flag from the
remains of his late shipmate, while the others, at the words 'we commit
his body to the deep,' project the grating right into the sea. The body
being loaded with shot at one end, glances off the grating, plunges at
once into the ocean, and--

"'In a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into its depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.'

"This part of the ceremony is rather less impressive than the
correspondent part on land; but still there is something solemn, as
well as startling, in the sudden splash, followed by the sound of the
grating, as it is towed along under the main-chains.

"In a fine day at sea, in smooth water, and when all the ship's company
and officers are assembled, the ceremony just described, although a
melancholy one, as it must always be, is often so pleasing, all things
considered, that it is calculated to leave even cheerful impressions on
the mind."

(Even Captain Hall, however, admits that a sea-funeral may sometimes
be a scene of unmixed sadness; and he records the following as the most
impressive of all the hundreds he has witnessed. It occurred in the
Leander, off the coast of North America.)

"There was a poor little middy on board, so delicate and fragile, that
the sea was clearly no fit profession for him; but he or his friends
thought otherwise; and as he had a spirit for which his frame was no
match, he soon gave token of decay. This boy was a great favourite with
every body--the sailors smiled whenever he passed, as they would have
done to a child--the officers petted him, and coddled him up with
all sorts of good things--and his messmates, in a style which did not
altogether please him, but which he could not well resist, as it was
meant most kindly, nicknamed him Dolly. Poor fellow!--he was long
remembered afterwards. I forget what his particular complaint was, but
he gradually sunk; and at last went out just as a taper might have done,
exposed to such gusts of wind as blew in that tempestuous region. He
died in the morning; but it was not until the evening that he was
prepared for a seaman's grave.

"I remember, in the course of the day, going to the side of the boy's
hammock, and on laying my hand upon his breast, was astonished to find
it still warm--so much so, that I almost imagined I could feel the heart
beat. This, of course, was a vain fancy; but I was much attached to my
little companion, being then not much taller myself--and I was soothed
and gratified, in a childish way, by discovering that my friend, though
many hours dead, had not yet acquired the usual revolting chillness.

"In after years I have sometimes thought of this incident, when
reflecting on the pleasing doctrine of the Spaniards--that as soon as
children die, they are translated into angels, without any of those cold
obstructions, which, they pretend, intercept and retard the souls of
other mortals. The peculiar circumstances connected with the funeral
which I am about to describe, and the fanciful superstitions of the
sailors upon the occasion, have combined to fix the whole scene in
my memory.

"Something occurred during the day to prevent the funeral taking place
at the usual hour, and the ceremony was deferred till long after sunset.
The evening was extremely dark, and it was blowing a treble-reefed
topsail breeze. We had just sent down the top-gallant yards, and made
all snug for a boisterous winter's night. As it became necessary to have
lights to see what was done, several signal lanterns were placed on the
break of the quarter-deck, and others along the hammock railings on the
lee-gangway. The whole ship's company and officers were assembled, some
on the booms, others in the boats; while the main-rigging was crowded
half way up to the cat-harpings. Over-head, the mainsail, illuminated
as high as the yard by the lamps, was bulging forwards under the gale,
which was rising every minute, and straining so violently at the
main-sheet, that there was some doubt whether it might not be necessary
to interrupt the funeral in order to take sail off the ship. The lower
deck ports lay completely under water, and several times the muzzles of
the main-deck guns were plunged into the sea; so that the end of the
grating on which the remains of poor Dolly were laid, once or twice
nearly touched the tops of the waves, as they foamed and hissed past.
The rain fell fast on the bare heads of the crew, dropping also on the
officers, during all the ceremony, from the foot of the mainsail, and
wetting the leaves of the prayer-book. The wind sighed over us amongst
the wet shrouds, with a note so mournful, that there could not have been
a more appropriate dirge.

"The ship--pitching violently--strained and creaked from end to end: so
that, what with the noise of the sea, the rattling of the ropes, and the
whistling of the wind, hardly one word of the service could be
distinguished. The men, however, understood, by a motion of the
captain's hand, when the time came--and the body of our dear little
brother was committed to the deep.

"So violent a squall was sweeping past the ship at this moment, that no
sound was heard of the usual splash, which made the sailors allege that
their young favourite never touched the water at all, but was at once
carried off in the gale to his final resting-place!"

* * * * *


* * * * *


(_For the Mirror._)

Either shore
Presents its combination to the view
Of all that interests, delights, enchants;--
Corn-waving fields, and pastures green, and slope,
And swell alternate, summits crown'd with leaf,
And grave-encircled mansions, verdant capes,
The beach, the inn, the farm, the mill, the path,
And tinkling rivulets, and waters wide,
Spreading in lake-like mirrors to the sun.


_Swansea Bay:--Scenery and Antiquities of Gower._

The coast scenery of the western portion of Glamorgan is of singular
beauty. We shall ever recall with delight our recollections of Gower,
and we believe the future tourist will thank us for the outline of the
more prominent beauties in the circle of the district, which we now
give. Let us suppose ourselves at Swansea, and start on an excursion to
the Mumbles and Caswell Bay. A road has been formed within these few
years to the village of Oystermouth, about five miles from Swansea.
It is perfectly level, bounded by a tram-road, and runs close to the
sea-beach, forming the western side of Swansea Bay. The encroachments
of the sea have been very extensive here; at high water shipping now
traverse what was fifty years ago, we are told, a marshy flat, bordered
by a wood near the present road, the stumps of which yet appear on the
sandy beach. We have several times on riding to low water mark (about
three quarters of a mile out) been nearly involved in a quick-sand
adventure. Landward, the ground is broken and elevated, and thickly
studded with gentlemen's seats the whole distance; many of which are
embosomed in wood, and have a beautiful effect. Marino, an extensive
new mansion in the Elizabethan or old English style of architecture,
belonging to Mr. J.H. Vivian, and Woodlands Castle, the seat of General
Warde, which is very picturesque, are particularly deserving of
attention. After passing the hamlet of Norton, you near Oystermouth
Castle, an extensive and splendid Gothic ruin, in fine preservation,
which rears its "ivy-mantled" walls, above an eminence adjoining the
road. Some suppose it to have been built by Henry de Newburgh, Earl
of Warwick, in Henry the First's reign; others ascribe it on better
authority to the Lords Braose, of Gower, in the reign of John; it is now
the property of the Duke of Beaufort, whose care in its preservation
cannot be too much commended. The inspection of this interesting ruin
will repay the traveller:

By the grim storm-clouds overcast,
Even like a spectre of the past,--
Of rapine, feudal strife, and blood,
Thou tellest an old, wild, warlike story,
When squadrons on thy ramparts stood,
With spear and shield in martial glory!


The walls are very lofty and not much injured by time; the plan of the
various chambers, extensive vaults and chambers in the inner courtyard,
can be perfectly distinguished. The general form of the castle, which
must once have been very strong, is nearly a square, with a projecting
gatehouse to the S.E. which is almost perfect. The keep on the eastern
side commands a lovely view. About half a mile further is the village of
Oystermouth, clustering with its whitewashed roofs along the foot and
declivity of a high mass of rock, which juts boldly out into the sea
for half a mile, forming the south-eastern extremity of Gower, and
terminating Swansea Bay. The village is celebrated as a bathing place,
and for its extensive fishery for oysters, with which it supplies
Bristol, Gloucestershire, North Somerset, &c. This trade gives
occupation to a considerable number of fishermen who are the chief
inhabitants of the place; but in the spring and summer, Oystermouth,
in consequence of the great beauty of the situation, and its extreme
salubrity, is completely filled with strangers, and high rates are
obtained for lodgings; the accommodations are mostly indifferent, though
the place is improving fast. The prospect from the summit of the rocks
is truly exhilarating and beautiful. On one side, the spectator beholds
just below him, the Atlantic rushing with all its majesty up the Bristol
Channel--rising over the mixon sands into a really mountainous
swell--while on the other, Swansea Bay, glittering with the white sails
and varied combinations of a crowd of shipping, seems spread out like a
vast and beautiful lake; its eastern shores bounded in the distance by
the mountainous and woody scenery of Britton-Ferry, Aberavon, Margam,
gradually diminishing towards Pyle.

To the north, beyond the town of Swansea, an immense cloud of smoke is
seen suspended over the Vales of Tawy and Neath--an abomination in the
face of heaven. Such is the Welsh Bay of Naples, which presents this
remarkable appearance at this spot. The anchorage aside this range of
cliffs affords, except in an east wind, a very secure road for shipping;
sometimes in strong weather there are two or three hundred sail lying
here. At the termination of the peninsula are two rocky islands called
the Mumbles, and on the farthest is a large light-house; for the support
of which a rate is levied on all the shipping up and down channel. Below
the light-house an immense cavern called "Bob's Cove" can be seen at
low water. We were told that the village under the shadow of the rocks,
loses sight of the sun for three months in winter, but this is not
"quite correct." Let us proceed westward. About a mile from Oystermouth
is Newton; where there are several lodging-houses. There have been many
instances of great longevity at this village, which is perhaps the
healthiest spot on the coast. The road to Caswell Bay, which passes
through Newton, is almost impassable for horses; a new one however is
talked of. The rocky valley leading to Caswell Bay, which abruptly comes
in sight between two projecting rocks, is singularly wild and romantic.
The bay is absolutely a mine of the picturesque--the Lullworth Cove
of Wales. A day may be spent delightfully among its rocks and
caverns--taking care to visit them at low water. A few miles westward is
Oxwich Bay, the main attraction of the coast, along the rocky summit of
which the pedestrian should "wend his way," with the ocean roaring far
beneath him. We will, however, return to Swansea, and endeavour briefly
to recall our first excursion into Gower.

Let us fancy ourselves therefore, on a bright April morning, riding
along with a friend--a stranger like ourselves--on the high road from
Swansea into the interior of the peninsula. After cantering over about
seven miles of hill and valley and common, we entered a woody defile,
and at last opened, to use a nautical phrase, the "Gower inn," (eight
miles) which was built, we were told, expressly for the convenience of
tourists. After ascending a tremendous rocky hill, for road it cannot
be called, about a mile onwards, Oxwich Bay bursts at last in all its
beauty upon our sight. In our inquiries during the day, of the few
passengers we met, as to the distance of the village of Penrice, the
intended limit of our day's excursion, we were forcibly reminded of the
"mile and a bittock" of the north. The country is very thinly populated
here: at last we came in sight of the grounds of Penrice Castle, the
beautiful mansion of Mr. Talbot, the member for the county; the entrance
to the park is between two of the towers belonging to the extensive and
picturesque remains of the ancient Castle of Penrice, which stands close
to the road. Sixteen miles from Swansea, after "curses not loud but
deep" upon Welsh roads, we reached the sequestered village of Penrice,
which stands on a wooded eminence of no easy access, overlooking the
eastern shore of Oxwich Bay.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *


* * * * *


It has been our invariable practice to notice, _by extract only_, such
works as we are connected with, or to which we have contributed; and in
the present case we shall do little more.

Now, the reader need not be here told that the plan of an Annual
Register of Inventions and Improvements originated in _The Mirror_ about
four years since. Our intention there was to quote an occasional page or
two of novelties of popular interest in science and art, and leave more
abstruse matters to the journals in which they originally appeared. This
plan led us through most of the scientific records of the year, in which
we began to perceive that the reduction of all subjects of importance
was not compatible within a few pages, and sooner than allow many papers
of value to every member of society to be locked under the uninviting
denomination of _philosophy_, we undertook the abridgement and
arrangement of such papers, upon the plan of an "Annual Register,"
intending our volume specially to represent the progress of discovery
just as the general "Register" is a contribution to history. The cost
of the journals for this purpose proved to be upwards of Twelve Guineas,
but this outlay only made us more pleased with the design. A single
instance will suffice. The _Philosophical Magazine_, a work of high
character, numbers among its purchasers but few general readers: it
contains many mathematical, theoretical, and controversial papers, all
of which may advance their object, but are not in a form sufficiently
tangible for any but the scientific inquirer. Still, in the same
Magazine, there may be papers of practical and directly useful
character, and of ready application to the arts and interests of life
and society. A person wishing to possess these popular papers must
therefore purchase with them a quantity of matter which to him would
be unintelligible, and the value of which could only be appreciated
by direct study, a task of no small import in these days of cheap
literature. That the plan has succeeded, and that its intention has
been fully recognised, is borne out by the testimony of a score of our
contemporaries. Of their praise we have no disposition to make an idle
boast; and our only object in the present notice is to do for ourselves
what we could not perhaps expect a weekly or monthly critic to do for
us, viz. to quote the subjects of a few of the valuable papers in the
present volume, and then leave the reader to form his own conclusions
of its intrinsic value.

In _Mechanical Science_ there are 100 closely-printed pages, or 90
articles. Among these are papers on novel applications of the gigantic
power of _Steam_ in Navigation and Agriculture, and especially in
Railway Carriages; the grand invention of the Air Engine; improvements
in Printing; machinery in manufactures; and contributions to
experimental as well as practical mechanics.

In _Chemical Science_ there are upwards of 60 New Facts. Among these is
a valuable paper on Arsenic, by Dr. Christison, (from the _Philosophical
Magazine_;) a method of ascertaining the vegeto-alkali in Bark; the
influence of the Aurora Borealis on the Magnetic Needle; Lieut.
Drummond's Plan for illuminating Light Houses by a ball of lime, (from
the _Philosophical Transactions_); Laws of electrical accumulation, and
the decomposition of water by atmospheric and ordinary electricity;
the new Indigo; the spontaneous inflammation of charcoal; the nitrous
atmosphere of Tirhoot, one of the principal districts in India for the
manufacture of salt-petre; Discovery of a mass of meteoric iron in
Bohemia; the chemical composition of cheese; Berzelius on the power of
metallic rods to decompose water after their connexion with the galvanic
pile is broken; an alkaline principle in Box-wood; Professor Davy on a
new method of detecting metallic poisons; Mr. Bennet's new alloy for the
pivot-holes of watches; experiments with Aldini's Fireproof Dresses;
Dr. Ure on the composition of Gunpowder, and on Indigo; Dr. Bostock
on the spontaneous purification of Thames water; Abstracts of Berzelius'
statement of the progress of Chemical Science for 1829; Mr. Broughton
on the effects of oxygen gas on various animals, &c.

In _Zoology_ are papers--on the Fern Owl; Mr. Rennie's interesting Notes
on the Cleanliness of Animals; Mechanism of the Voice in Singing; the
Vision of Birds of Prey; New species of British Snake; Animalculae in
Snow; Habits of the Chameleon; Peculiarity of the Negro Stomach; Growth
of Spanish Flies; British Pearl Fishery on the Conway; the cause of
Goitre; seat of the sense of touch and taste; stones found in the
stomach of Pikes; Learned Poodles at Paris; Faculties of Domestic
Animals; Increase of Mankind; Larva of the Gad-fly, which deposits its
eggs in the bodies of the human species; Luminousness of the Sea, a
valuable contribution; Motions in water caused by the respiration of
Fishes; Cannibalism in New Guinea; Heron swallowing a Rat; Mr. Vigors
on American Quails; Mr. Yarrell's experiments to preserve White Bait;
On the fascination of Serpents; Notes on the Zoological Society, &c.

In _Botany, Mineralogy, and Geology_, are--a valuable paper on the
Flora of Sicily; Supposed sub-marine banks from Newfoundland to the
English Channel: Mr. Bakewell, Jun. on the Falls of Niagara: Mr. Bicheno
on the Shamrock of Ireland; Effect of Light on Plants; Immense Tree in
Mexico; Mr. Murray on Raining Trees; Forms and Relations of Volcanoes;
Cuticular Pores of Plants; Volcano of Pietra Mala; Milk Tree of
Demarara; Productiveness of Plants and Animals; Height of the Perpetual
Snows on the Cordillera of Peru; Gerard's Botanical Journey in the
Himala Mountains; Changes of temperature in Plants; Humboldt's account
of the Gold and Platina district of Russia; Sir H. Davy on the
durability of Stone; Dr. Hibbert's account of a Natural Rocking-stone;
Notices of Fossil Organic Remains discovered within the year;
Instructions for collecting Geological specimens, &c.

The _Astronomical and Meteorological_ division contains some important
observations on Atmospherical Electricity, by Dr. Brewster; a note of
the recent Visitation of Greenwich Observatory; Snow of the winters
1829-30; Account of a Water-spout on the Lake Neufchatel; Mr. Herapath
and Sir James South on the Comet; On the Rending of Timber by Lightning;
Curious account of Hay converted into Glass by Lightning; The Occupation
of Aldebaran by the Moon; Aurora Borealis observed during the year;
and a Journal of the Weather of the year, by Mr. Tatem, the ingenious
meteorologist, which paper we regret is not acknowledged from the
_Magazine of Natural History_; appended to this is a tabular
Meteorological Summary of 1830, communicated to the _Arcana of Science_
by Dr. Armstrong.

In _Rural Economy_ there are Abstracts from papers of considerable
value and extent--on Pasturages, Chlorides applied to diseased Animals,
Quality of Waste Land from the plants growing in it, Malt Duties, Beet
Root Sugar, Aliment from Straw, Planting and Pruning, Indian Corn,
Mangold Wurzol, &c. In _Gardening_ are upwards of 40 similar Abstracts.
In _Domestic Economy_ are some practical papers on Milk, Bread, Sugar,
Storing Fruit, Beer from Sugar, &c. In _Useful Arts_ are about
half-a-dozen, pages. To these heads are added a List of Patents, Notices
of Expeditions of Discovery, and a copious Index. The Illustrations,
about twenty in number, represent such inventions as are most attractive
by their ingenuity; and by way of Synopsis we may state that the whole
contents of the volume are nearly 400 abstracts, including probably
three times as many _new facts_.

The utility of such a yearly volume speaks for itself, and however
ungracefully a recommendation might come from our pen we could not
refrain from thus introducing it to the readers of the _Mirror_
especially as the _Arcana of Science_ contain scarcely half-a-dozen
pages of facts which have been detailed in our weekly columns.

* * * * *


* * * * *


This volume professes to be "A Familiar Analysis of the Calendar of
the Church of England," by explaining and illustrating its Fasts and
Festivals, &c., in the form of Question and Answer. The reader will
not look for novelty in such a work. The editors of Time's Telescope,
Clavis Calendaria, the Every-day Book, &c., have been too long and too
laboriously employed in illustrating every point of the year's history,
to lead us to expect any new attraction. Indeed, the preface of the
present work does not profess to furnish any such inducement, the editor
resting his claim on the cheapness of his book in comparison with
the Every-day Book. This is rather an ungracious recommendation: the
"Analysis" consists of less than three hundred pages, and is sold
for five or six shillings; but these three hundred pages only equal
seventy-five pages of the Every-day Book, or less than five sheets,
which the public know may be purchased for fifteen-pence. One of the
pretensions of the "Analysis" is its condensed form, but we suspect
Mr. Valpy's _Epitomizing_ press would reduce the editor's three hundred
pages to seventy-five. It is a thankless office to be obliged to speak
thus of a book on which some pains have been bestowed. Now, had it
been printed within the compass of an eighteen-penny or two shilling
catechism, the desired object would have been obtained; but, as it
appears, in the type of a large church prayer-book, what may have been
gained in arrangement, must be paid for in paper and print, so that no
good purpose is ultimately effected.

* * * * *


Parts 3 and 4 of the _Familiar Law Adviser_ relate to Bills of Exchange
and Promissory Notes--and Benefit Societies and Savings' Banks--and will
be found extremely useful to very different classes. They have in them
all the reforming spirit of the times, and must be of essential service
everywhere, since _cheap law_ is as desirable us any other species of
economy. Brevity, too, as recommended in these little books, should
be the soul of law as it is of wit, for we all know that as the law
lengthens so the cost strengthens. Another advantage will be, that the
sooner a man is set right, the more time will he have for increasing
his good actions in this life.

* * * * *


Oh God! what a difference throughout the whole of this various and
teeming earth a single DEATH can effect! Sky, sun, air, the eloquent
waters, the inspiring mountain-tops, the murmuring and glossy wood,
the very

Glory in the grass, and splendour in the flower,

do these hold over us an eternal spell? Are they as a part and property
of an unvarying course of nature? Have they aught which is unfailing,
steady--_same_ in its effect? Alas! their attraction is the creature
of an accident. One gap, invisible to all but ourself in the crowd and
turmoil of the world, and every thing is changed. In a single hour,
the whole process of thought, the whole ebb and flow of emotion, may be
revulsed for the rest of an existence. Nothing can ever seem to us as it
did: it is a blow upon the fine mechanism by which we think, and move,
and have our being--the pendulum vibrates aright no more--the dial hath
no account with time--the process goes on, but it knows no symmetry or
order;--it was a single stroke that marred it, but the harmony is gone
for ever!

And yet I often think that that shock which jarred on the mental,
renders yet softer the moral nature. A death that is connected with love
unites us by a thousand remembrances to all who have mourned: it builds
a bridge between the young and the old; it gives them in common the most
touching of human sympathies; it steals from nature its glory and its
exhilaration--not its tenderness. And what, perhaps, is better than all,
to mourn deeply for the death of another, loosens from ourself the petty
desire for, and the animal adherence to, life. We have gained the end of
the philosopher, and view, without shrinking, the coffin and the
pall.--_New Monthly Magazine._

* * * * *


An example of Mr. Cooper's appreciation of his illustrious rival,
Sir Walter Scott, occurred while he was sitting for the portrait that
accompanied the _New Monthly Magazine_ for last month.--The artist,
Madame Mirbel, requested of a distinguished statesman.--"No," said
Cooper, "if I must look at any, it shall be at my master," directing
his glance a little higher, to a portrait of Sir Walter Scott.

* * * * *


France, "with all thy faults I love thee still!" No man should travel
from his cradle to his grave without paying thee a visit by the
way: with a disposition prone to enjoyment, it lightens the journey
amazingly. The French are a kind people, and it must be his fault who
cannot live happily with them. Pity it is, possessing, as they do,
whatever can contribute to the felicity of a people in a state of peace,
that war should be indispensable in order to render their idea of
happiness complete. _La gloire_ and _la guerre_ form the eternal burden
of their song--as if the chief business of life were to destroy life.
They would fight to-morrow with any nation on earth, for no better an
object than the chance of achieving a victory. Laugh at me, if you
please, for uttering what you may consider a foolish opinion, but I look
upon it as a serious misfortune to them that the two words _Gloire_ and
_Victoire_ rhyme together: they so constantly occur in that portion
of their poetry which is the most popular, and the best calculated to
excite them in a high degree--their _vaudeville_ songs--that the two
ideas they express have become identical in their minds; and he will
deserve well of his country who shall discover the means of making
_glory_ rhyme to _peace_.--_Ibid._

* * * * *


The custom of HELPING ONESELF has its sanction in the remotest
antiquity, and has been continued down to the present day in the highest
places, and by those whom it especially behoves to set example to the
world. It was clearly never designed that man should regulate his
conduct for the good of others, for the first lesson taught to the first
of men, was to take care of himself; had it been intended that men
should study the good of each other, a number would surely have been
simultaneously created for the exercise of the principle, instead of
one, who, being alone, was essentially selfish. Adam was all the world
to himself. With the addition of Eve, human society commenced; and the
fault of our first mother furnishes a grand and terrible example of the
mischief of thinking of the benefit of another. Satan suggested to her
that Adam should partake of the fruit--an idea, having in it the taint
of benevolence, so generally mistaken--whence sin and death came into
the world. Had Eve been strictly selfish, she would wisely have kept the
apples to herself, and the evil would have been avoided. Had Adam helped
himself, he would have had no stomach for the helping of another--and
so, on his part, the evil temptation had been obviated.

The HELP YOURSELF principle has at no time been extinct in society,
while it is seen to be a universal law of Nature. The wolf _helps
himself_ to the lamb, and the lamb to the grass. No animal assists
another, excepting when in the relation of parent to young, when
Nature could not dispense with the caprice of benevolence, which in
this instance, be it observed, distresses the parties susceptible of
the sentiment; for suckling creatures are always in poor condition.
Appropriation is the great business of the universe. The institution
of property is, on the other hand, artificial.--_Ibid._

* * * * *


There is a very curious and ingenious, though not original, exhibition
in this ballet. Among the festivities at Kenilworth Castle, in honour
of the royal guests, a pantomimic "masque" of the gods and goddesses of
Olympus is introduced. The divinities, instead of appearing in genuine
Grecian attire, present themselves in the mongrel costume visual on such
occasions in the time of Queen Elizabeth. This is droll enough, but more
whimsical still is the style of their dancing. This, too, is meant as an
imitation of the limited choregraphic _savoir faire_ of the age. It is
as if Mons. Deshayes had triumphantly intended to portray the first
dawn of an art which he considers to have now reached the summit of
perfection. But who knows but the Monsieur _Un tel_ of 1931 may, with
equal boldness, parody the pirouettes of Monsieur Deshayes? Even the
music to this mythological interlude is borrowed from ancient scores;
a happy thought, which deserves commendation.--_Ibid._

* * * * *


* * * * *


Mr. Campbell, the Poet, has seceded from the _New Monthly Magazine_,
and commenced a magazine of his own--_The Metropolitan_. Without
prejudice to the first-mentioned work, he has our best wishes for his
new undertaking. The New Monthly Magazine has, however, supplied the
_Mirror_ with brighter columns than any of its contemporaries, and
we are mindful of the obligation, especially for that gay and lively
description of writing which is really the _patter_ of literature.
It will soon be seen whether Mr. Campbell and his forces succeed.
The Number before us is, for a first, excellent. The Editor's Paper on
Ancient Geography, with which it opens, is worth the price of the whole
magazine: nay, it is worth more than many a modern quarto. Other papers
are attractive; and there is much of the spirit of the times throughout
the Number.--Poland, the Political Times, and the Lord Chancellor's
Levee--are vividly written. The last is a good specimen of the "keep
moving" style of a Magazine. We intend to quote largely from the

_Memoirs of the Macaw of a Lady of Quality_,


I am a native of one of the most splendid regions of the earth, where
nature dispenses all her bounties with a liberal hand; and where man
and bird are released from half the penalties to which, in other climes,
their flesh is heir. I was born in one of those superb forests of fruit
and flowers so peculiar to the Brazils, which stood at no great distance
from an Indian village, and was not far removed from an European
settlement. This forest was impervious to human footsteps. A nation of
apes occupied the interior; and the dynasty of the Psittacus Severus,
or Brazilian queen macaw, inhabited the upper regions.--Several
subject-states of green and yellow parrots constituted our colonial
neighbours. My family held the highest rank in the privileged classes
of our oligarchy; for our pride would not admit of a king, and our
selfishness (so I must call it) would allow of no rights. We talked
nevertheless in our legislative assemblies of our happy constitution,
which by tacit agreement we understood to mean "happy for ourselves;"
but the green and yellow parrots too plainly showed a strong disposition
to put another interpretation on the phraseology. My paternal nest was
situated in the hollow of one of the most ancient and lofty trees in the
forest. It had once been rich in fruit and flowers, gums and odours,
and all in the same season; and though it was now scathed at the top,
hollow in the trunk, and was threatened with total ruin from the first
hurricane, we still preferred it, because it _was_ the oldest. I owed
all my early impressions, and much of my acquired superiority, to my
great grandfather, who lived to an extreme old age, and attained a
celebrity, of which we were ourselves at that time unaware. He was
the identical bird which was brought from Marignan to Prince Maurice,
governor of the Brazils, and whose pertinent answers to many silly
questions are recorded in the pages of the greatest of English
philosophers. My great grandfather was soon disgusted with the folly
and cruelty of what is called civilized life; and having seen an Indian
roasted alive for a false religion's sake, he thought that some day they
might take it into their heads to do as much by a macaw, for the same
reason. So he availed himself of an early opportunity of retiring
without leave from the service, and returned to his native forest, where
his genius and learning at once raised him to the highest honours of
the Psittacan aristocracy. Influenced by his example, I early felt the
desire of visiting foreign countries. My mother too (who, though fond
and indulgent, like all the mothers of our race, was as vain and foolish
as any that I have since met with in human society) worked powerfully
on my ambition, by her constant endeavours to "push me up the tree,"
as she called it, in her way. I was already a first-rate orator, and a
member of the great congress of macaws; while in our social re-unions
I left all the young birds of fashion far behind me: and as I not only
articulated some human sounds picked up from the Indians, but could
speak a few words of Portuguese and Dutch, learned by rote from my great
grandfather, I was considered a genius of high order. With the conceit,
therefore, of all my noble family, I was prompted to go forth and visit
other and better worlds, and to seek a sphere better adapted to the
display of my presumed abilities, than that afforded by our domestic
senate and home-spun society. On one of those celestial nights, known
only in the tropical regions, I set forth on my travels, directing my
course to the Portuguese settlement, which the youthful vigour of my
wing enabled me to reach by the break of morning. Having refreshed
myself with a breakfast of fruit, after the exhaustion of my nocturnal
flight, I ascended a spacious palm tree, which afforded an admirable
view of the adjacent country, and a desirable shelter from the ardours
of the rising sun. My first impulse was to take a bird's-eye view of the
novel scene which lay before me, and I gazed around for some minutes
with intense delight; but fatigue gradually obtained the mastery over
curiosity, and, putting my head unconsciously beneath my wing, I fell
into a profound sleep. How long this continued, I know not; but I was
suddenly awakened by a strange muttering of unknown voices. I looked,
and beheld two creatures whose appearance greatly surprised me. They had
nothing of the noble form and aspect of our Indian neighbours. One of
them considerably resembled the preacher-monkey in countenance and
deportment; his head was denuded of hair, and his person was covered by
a black substance, which left no limb visible except his ancles and
feet, which were very much like those of an ape. The other had all the
air of a gigantic parrot: he had a hooked bill, a sharp look, a yellow
head; and all the rest of his strange figure was party-coloured, blue,
green, red, and black. I classed him at once as a specimen of the
Psittacus Ochropterus. The ape and the parrot seemed to have taken
shelter beneath the palm tree, like myself, for the purposes of shade
and repose. They had beside them a basket filled with dead game, fruit,
and honey; and the parrot had a long instrument near him on the ground,
which I afterwards learned was a fowling-piece. They talked a strange
jargon of different intonation, like that of the respective chatter of
the grey and the green parrots. Both seemed to complain, and, by the
expression of their ugly and roguish faces, to interrogate each other.
As soon as they went away, I endeavoured to mutter to myself the sounds
they had uttered, but could retain only two phrases. The one had been
spoken by the ape, and ran thus--"Shure it was for my sweet sowl's
sake, jewel;" the other was--"Eh, sirs, it was aw' for the love of the
siller." I was extremely amused by my acquisition; and, being convinced
that I was now qualified to present myself at the settlement, was about
to descend from my altitude, when the two strangers returned: they had
come back for the gun, which they had left behind them. As they picked
it up, it went off, and I was startled into one of my loudest screams.
The strangers looked at me with great delight, he whom I likened to the
parrot exclaiming--"Weel, mon, what brought you here?" I answered in his
own words, for want of better--"Eh, sirs, it was aw' for the love of
the siller." He dropped his piece, and fled in consternation, calling
lustily--"Its auld clooty himsen, mon, its auld Horny, I tell ye; come
awa, come awa." His friend, who seemed more acquainted with our species,
encouraged him to return; and offering me some fruit from his basket,
said--"Why, Poll, you cratur, what brought you so far from home?" I
endeavoured to imitate his peculiar tone, and replied--"Why thin it was
for my sweet sowl's sake, jewel."--"Why then," said my interlocutor,
coolly (for I never forgot his words) "that bird bates cockfighting."
They now both endeavoured to catch me. It was all I wanted, and I
perched on the preaching-monkey's wrist, while he took up the basket
in his left hand, and in this easy and commodious style of travelling,
we proceeded. On approaching the settlement, a fierce dispute arose
between the friends; of which, by each tearing me from the other, I was
evidently the object; and I am quite sure that I should have been torn
to pieces between them, but for the timely approach of a person who
issued from a lofty and handsome edifice on the road side, attended by
a train of preacher-monkeys, of which he was the chief. He was quite a
superior looking being to either of my first acquaintance, who cowered
and shrunk beneath his eagle look. They seemed humbly to lay their cases
before him; when, after looking contemptuously on both, he took me to
himself, caressed me, and giving me to an attendant, said--"This bird
belongs to neither, it is the property of mother church:" and the
property of mother church I remained for some years. Of my two friends
of the palm-tree, one, the preacher-monkey, turned out to be a poor
Irish lay brother, of the convent of which my new master (an Irishman
too) was the superior. My yellow parrot was a Scotch adventurer, who
came out to give lectures on _poleetical economy_ to the Brazilians:
and who, finding that they had no taste for moral science, had become
a servant of all-work to the brotherhood. My dwelling was a missionary
house of the Propaganda, established for the purpose of converting
(i.e. burning) the poor Indians. The Superior, Father Flynn, had
recently arrived from Lisbon with unlimited powers. He was clever,
eloquent, witty, and humorous; but panting for a bishopric in his native
country, he was principally employed in theological writings, which
might bring him into notice and hasten his recall to Europe.

Next to the servant's hall of a great English family, the first place
in the world for completing the education of a macaw of genius, is a
convent. Its idleness and ennui render a monkey, or a parrot, a valuable
resource; and between what I picked up, and what I was taught by the
monks of the Propaganda, my acquirements soon became stupendous. Always
following my kind master from the refectory to the church, assisting at
mess or at mass, being near him in the seclusion of the oratory, and in
the festivities, he frequently held with his more confidential friends;
I had loaded my astonishing memory with scraps of theology and of fun.
I could sing a French drinking song, taught me by the sub-prior Frere
Jacques, and intonate a "Gloria in Excelsis" with a true nasal twang.
I had actually learned the Creed in English;[3] and could call all the
brothers by their name. I had even learned the Savoyard's dance from
my friend Frere Jacques, and sung "Gai Coco" at the same time, like
Scaliger's parrot, from whose history Frere Jacques took the idea
of teaching me. I did this, it must be acknowledged, with great
awkwardness, turning in my toes, and often tumbling backwards in a
clumsy and ludicrous way. But this amused my religious friends more than
all the rest; for, like the great, they loved a ridicule as well as a
talent; and, provided they were amused, were not nice as to the means.
My fame soon began to spread on all sides, and the anecdotes told of the
macaw of the Propaganda soon reached the circles of the Governor of the
Brazils, who wrote to request the pleasure of my company for a few weeks
at the palace. This was a compliment which he had never paid to the
learned superior of the order, and my master was evidently hurt. He
declined therefore the invitation for me, on the plea that he would
soon visit Rio Janeiro himself, when I should accompany him into the
vice-regal presence.

This visit shortly took place, not for the object supposed by the
community, (who parted with me, even for a short time, with great
regret,) but for another purpose. The British ambassador, Lord ----, who
had recently arrived at Rio, was a countryman of Father Flynn's. He
enjoyed eminent literary celebrity, was a delightful poet, and well
acquainted with the Portuguese language. The superior had no doubt that
his own literary and theological merits were equally known to his
excellency, whom he visited with a view to negotiating a passage in the
British man of war; for he had been called on a secret mission to
Ireland, and wished to depart without notifying his intention to the
subaltern of the Propaganda. I was not included in the muster-roll of
this expedition; but anxious to lose no opportunity of seeing the world,
and desirous of beholding the Governor, who had shown his taste and
politeness by inviting me to his court, I contrived to nestle myself in
the carriage without the superior's knowledge, and followed his steps to
the very ante-room of the embassy. It was too late to send me back; for
I was instantly seized by a company of pretty young animals, the very
reverse in appearance of the preacher-monkeys of the Propaganda; they
all seemed to find in me a kindred soul: my master was ushered into the
cabinet, and I was left with my new acquaintance, who were called
"_attaches_," but whom I at once classed with the secretary-birds,[4]
while here and there, I thought, was mingled among them a specimen of
the booby, or Pelicanus Sula. Two of these mischievous creatures seemed
to delight in tormenting me from mere idleness and ennui, which I bore
for some time with great patience, as I saw the boobies pay them much
respect. One was called Lord Charles, and the other the Hon. Mr. Henry.
I learned these names with facility, and contrived to repeat them, as
they had been taught me, by the frequent iteration of one of the

[3] "Rhodoginus mentions a parrot which could recite correctly the
whole of the Apostle's Creed."--Animal Biography, by the Rev.
W. Bingley.

[4] "The Dutch," says Le Vaillant, "give this bird the name of
Secretary, on account of the bunch of quills behind its
head."--Bingley, Animal Biography.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *


A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.

* * * * *


We had formerly in the Tower of London, a straight room or dungeon,
called, from the misery the unhappy occupiers of this very confined
place endured, the Little-Ease. But this will appear a luxurious
habitation, when compared with the inventions of Louis XI. of France,
with his iron cages, in which persons of rank lay for whole years;
or his oubliettes, dungeons made in the form of reversed cones,
with concealed trap-doors, down which dropped the unhappy victims
of the tyrant, brought there by Tristam L'Hermite, his companion and
executioner in ordinary; sometimes their sides were plain, sometimes
set with knives, or sharp-edged wheels; but in either cases they were
complete _oubliettes;_ the devoted were certain to fall into the land
where all things are forgotten.--(_Pennant's London._)

When the Bastille of France was demolished, three iron cages were
discovered, they were made of strong bars of iron, about eight feet high
and six feet wide, and such have been used in other prisons in that
country. The Bishop of Verdun, according to Mezeray, was the inventer,
and was himself the first man confined in them, and remained a prisoner
thus for eleven years, so that he could speak practically as to his own

* * * * *


The Duchess of Chevereux, who was for the first time at the court of
England, in 1638, swam across the Thames, in a frolic, near Windsor. On
this occasion some verses were composed by a Sir J. M. containing these

But her chaste breast, cold as the cloyster'd nun,
Whose frost to chrystal might congeal the sun,
So glar'd the stream, that pilots, there afloat,
Thought they might safely land without a boat;
July had seen the Thames in ice involv'd,
Had it not been by her own beams dissolv'd.

* * * * *


The observance of a birthday by _prayer_ is not altogether incurious
in these days of license; and the following specimen, quoted from the
_Diary_ of that truly good man, JOHN EVELYN, may be entertained as the
genuine effusion of piety, unmixed with any alloy of fanaticism, or
religious enthusiasm:--

_Oct_. 31, 1689.--My birthday, being now 69 years old. Blessed Father
who hast prolonged my years to this great age, and given me to see so
great and wonderful revolutions, and preserved me amidst them to this
moment, accept, I beseech thee, the continuance of my prayers and
thankful acknowledgements, and grant me grace to be working out my
salvation and redeeming the time, that thou mayest be glorified by me
here, and my soul immortal saved, whenever thou shalt call for it to
perpetuate thy praises to all eternity, in that heavenly kingdom where
there are no more changes or vicissitudes, but rest and peace, and joy
and consummate felicity for ever. Grant this, O Heavenly Father, for
the sake of Jesus thine only Son and our Saviour. Amen.

* * * * *


_From a country squire, in the 18th century, to a gentleman in London,
who had written to him concerning the character of a Servant._

"Sir--Yours I receiv'd the 24th of this present instant, June, and, at
your request, will give you an impartial account of my man, John Gray's
character. He is a shoemaker, or cordwainer, which you please to call
it, by trade, and now in our town; he is following the carding business
for every one that wants him; he served his time at a town called
Binstock, in Northamptonshire; and from thence the Great Addington
journeyman, to this occupation, as before mentioned, and used to come to
my house, and found, by riding my horses to water, that he rode a horse
pretty well; which was not at all mistaken, for he rides a horse well:
and he looks after a kennel of hounds very well, and finds a hare very
well: he hath no judgement in hunting a pack of hounds now, though he
rides well, he don't with discretion, for he don't know how to make the
most of a horse; but a very harey-starey fellow: will ride over a church
if in his way, though he may prevent a leap by having a gap within ten
yards of him; and if you are not in the field with himself, when you are
hunting to tutor him about riding, he will kill all the horses you have
in the stable in one month, for he hath killed downright, and lamed so
that they will never be fit for use, no more than five horses since he
has hunted my hounds, which is two years and upwards; he can talk no dog
language to a hound; he hath no voice; speaks to a hound such as if his
head were in a churn; nor neither does he know how to draw a hound when
they are at a loss, no more than a child of seven years old. As to his
honesty, I always found him honest till about a week ago. I sent my
servant that I have now to fetch some sheep's feet from Mr. Stranjan,
of Higham Ferrers, where Gray used to go for feet, and I always send
my money by the man that brings the feet; and Stranjan told my man that
I have now that I owed him money for feet; and when the man came home
he told me, and I went to Stranjan, and then I found the truth of the
matter. Gray had kept the money in his hands, and had never paid
Stranjan: he had along with me once for a letter, in order for his
character, to give him one, but I told him I could not give him a good
one, so I would not write at all. Gray is a very great drunkard, can't
keep a penny in his pocket: a sad notorious lyar. If you send him upon
a mile or two from Uphingham, he will get drunk, stay all day, and never
come home while the middle of the night, or such time as he knows his
master is in bed. He can nor will not keep any secret; neither has he
so much wit as other people, for the fellow is half a fool, for if you
would have business done with expedition, if he once gets out of the
town, or sight of you, shall see him no more, while the next morning he
serves me so and so: you must expect the same if you hire him. I use you
just as I would be used myself; it I desired a character of you of a
servant, that I had design'd to hire of yours, as to let you know the
truth of every thing about him.

"I am, sir, your most humble servant to command.

"_Great Addington, June_ 28, 1734.

"P.S. He takes good care of his horses, with good looking after as
to the dressing of them; but if you don't take care, he will fill the
manger full of corn, so that he will clog the horses, and ruin the whole
stable of horses."

* * * * *


_Upon two religious disputants who are interred within a few paces of
each other._

Suspended here, a contest see,
Of two whose creeds cou'd ne'er agree,
For whether they would preach or pray,
They'd do it in a different way;
And they wou'd fain our fate deny'd,
In quite a different manner dy'd!
Yet think not that their rancour's o'er,
No! for 'tis ten to one, and more,
Tho' quiet now as either lies,
But they've a wrangle when they rise.

* * * * *


In St. Michael's churchyard, at Litchfield, an ancient tombstone was
lately discovered, which had been buried in the earth a great number
of years. Upon it are deeply cut the following inscriptions:--

Here lyes the Body
of William Clarke,
who was Clarke of this
Church 51 years, and buried
March 25th, 1525, aged 96.

Here lyes the Body
of William Clarke,
Clarke of this Church 71
years, who died Septem. 26,
1562, and aged 86.

The father lived in the reigns of six different kings, viz. Henry the
Sixth, Edwards the Fourth and Fifth, Richard the Third, and Henry the
Seventh and Eighth. The son in seven reigns, viz. from Edward the Fourth
to Mary the First.

_Morning Chronicle, October 8, 1822._

* * * * *


_Written by a ragged Irishman, a passenger on board a vessel with the
Archbishop of Tuam._

If each man had his suum,
You would not have Tuam,
But I should get meum,
And sing a _Te Deum_.


* * * * *


The following verses were composed by John Barbour, a poet and divine,
who was born at Aberdeen in 1330. They afford a specimen of the poetry
in his time:--

"This was in midst of month of May,
When birdis sing on ilka spray,
Melland[5] their notes, with seemly soun,
For softness of the sweet seasoun.

"And leavis of the branchis spreeds,
And blomis bright, beside them, breeds
And Fieldis strawed are with flow'rs
Well savouring of seir[6] colours;
And all things wor this, blyth, and gay."


[5] Mingling.

[6] Their.

* * * * *


* * * * *

This Day is published, price 5s.


"This is the fourth annual volume of a most useful compilation of the
various discoveries in science or inventions of art during the preceding
year. The volume commences, very properly, with an abridgment of what
may be termed the greatest work of art which has distinguished the
present century--the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. Various other
improvements in the different departments of the arts which have
appeared in the several scientific journals of the last year, are here
presented in a condensed form, so as to render the volume, in reality,
an excellent book of reference. The object of the editor seems to have
been that of blending entertainment with valuable information, the work
being illustrated by many neat engravings relating to the popular
branches of science. The volume, therefore, contains a very interesting
compendium of information for young people."--_New Monthly Magazine._

Printed for JOHN LIMBIRD, 143, Strand;--of whom may be had the Volumes
for the three preceding years.

* * * * *

_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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