The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, No. 357
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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
VOL. XIII, No. 357.] SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1829. [PRICE 2d.
* * * * *
[Illustration: WARWICK CASTLE.]
The history of a fabric, so intimately connected with some of the most
important events recorded in the chronicles of our country, as that of
Warwick Castle, cannot fail to be alike interesting to the antiquary, the
historian, and the man of letters. This noble edifice is also rendered
the more attractive, as being one of the very few that have escaped the
ravages of war, or have defied the mouldering hand of time; it having
been inhabited from its first foundation up to the present time, a period
of nearly one thousand years. Before, however, noticing the castle, it
will be necessary to make a few remarks on the antiquity of the town of
which it is the chief ornament.
The town of Warwick is delightfully situated on the banks of the river
Avon, nearly in the centre of the county to which it has given its name,
and of which it is the principal town. Much diversity of opinion exists
among antiquaries, as to whether it be of Roman or Saxon origin; but it
is the opinion of Rous, as well as that of the learned Dugdale, that
its foundation is as remote as the earliest period of the Christian era.
These authors attribute its erection to Gutheline, or Kimbeline, a
British king, who called it after his own name, Caer-Guthleon, a compound
of the British word Caer, (_civitas_,) and Gutieon, or Gutheline, which
afterwards, for the sake of brevity, was usually denominated _Caerleon_.
We are also informed that Guiderius, the son and successor of Kimbeline,
greatly extended it, granting thereto numerous privileges and immunities;
but being afterwards almost totally destroyed by the incursions of the
Picts and Scots, it lay in a ruinous condition until it was rebuilt by
the renowned Caractacus. This town afterwards greatly suffered from the
ravages of the Danish invaders; but was again repaired by the lady
Ethelfleda, the daughter of King Alfred, to whom it had been given,
together with the kingdom of Mercia, of which it was the capital, by her
father. Camden, with whose opinion several other antiquaries also
concur, supposes that Warwick was the ancient _Praesidium_ of the Romans,
and the post where the praefect of the Dalmatian horse was stationed by
the governor of Britain, as mentioned in the Notitia.
 "Warwickshire," p. 298, edit. 1661.
 Vide Camden's "Britannia," by Bishop Gibson, vol. i. p. 603,
The appearance of this town in the time of Leland is thus described by
that celebrated writer:--"The town of Warwick hath been right strongly
defended and waullid, having a compace of a good mile within the waul.
The dike is most manifestly perceived from the castelle to the west gate,
and there is a great crest of yearth that the waul stood on. Within the
precincts of the toune is but one paroche chirche, dedicated to St. Mary,
standing in the middle of the toune, faire and large. The toune standeth
on a main rokki hill, rising from est to west. The beauty and glory of it
is yn two streetes, whereof the hye street goes from est to west, having
a righte goodely crosse in the middle of it, making a quadrivium, and
goeth from north to south." Its present name is derived, according to
Matthew Paris, from Warmund, the father of Offa, king of the Mercians,
who rebuilt it, and called it after his own name, Warwick.
 "Inter _Occidentalium Anglorum_ Reges illustrissimos,
praecipua commendationis laude celebratur, rex _Warmundus_, ab his
qui Historias _Anglorum_ non solum relatu proferre, sed etiam
scriptis inserere, consueverant. Is fundator cujusdam urbis a
seipso denominatae; quae lingua _Anglicana Warwick_, id est, _Curia
Warmundi_ nuncupatur."--Matthaei Paris "Historia Major," a Watts,
The castle, which is one of the most magnificent specimens of the ancient
baronial splendour of our ancestors now remaining in this kingdom, rears
its proud and lofty turrets, gray with age, in the immediate vicinity of
the town. It stands on a rocky eminence, forty feet in perpendicular
height, and overhanging the river, which laves its base. The first
fortified building on this spot was erected by the before-mentioned lady
Ethelfleda, who built the donjon upon an artificial mound of earth. No
part of that edifice, however, is now supposed to remain, except the
mound, which is still to be traced in the western part of the grounds
surrounding the castle. The present structure is evidently the work of
different ages, the most ancient part being erected, as appears from the
"Domesday Book," in the reign of Edward the Confessor; which document
also informs us, that it was "a special strong hold for the midland part
of the kingdom." In the reign of William the Norman it received
considerable additions and improvements; when Turchill, the then vicomes
of Warwick, was ordered by that monarch to enlarge and repair it. The
Conqueror, however, being distrustful of Turchill, committed the custody
of it to one of his own followers, Henry de Newburgh, whom he created
Earl of Warwick, the first of that title of the Norman line. The stately
building at the north-east angle, called _Guy's Tower_, was erected in
the year 1394, by Thomas Beauchamp, the son and successor of the first
earl of that family, and was so called in honour of the ancient hero of
that name, and also one of the earls of Warwick. It is 128 feet in
height, and the walls, which are of solid masonry, measure 10 feet in
thickness. _Caesar's Tower_, which is supposed to be the most ancient part
of the fabric, is 147 feet in height; but appears to be less lofty than
that of Guy's, from its being situated on a less elevated part of the
In the reign of Henry III., Warwick Castle was of such importance, that
security was required from Margery, the sister and heiress of Thomas de
Newburgh, the sixth earl of the Norman line, that she would not marry
with any person in whom the king could not place the greatest confidence.
During the same reign, in the year 1265, William Manduit, who had
garrisoned the castle on the side of the king against the rebellious
barons, was surprised by John Gifford, the governor of Kenilworth Castle,
who, having destroyed a great part of the walls, took him, together with
the countess, his wife, prisoners; and a ransom of nineteen hundred marks
were paid, before their release could be obtained. The last attack which
it sustained was during the civil wars in the seventeenth century, when
it was besieged for a fortnight, but did not surrender.
Few persons have made a greater figure in history than the earls of
Warwick, from the renowned
---- Sir Guy of Warwicke, as was weten
In palmer wyse, as Colman hath it wryten;
The battaill toke on hym for Englandis right,
With the Colbrond in armes for to fight.
up to the accomplished Sir Fulk Greville, to whom the castle, with all
its dependencies, was granted by James I., after having passed through
the successive lines of Beauchamp, Neville, Plantagenet, and Dudley.
 Hardynge's "Chronicle," p, 211, edit. 1812.
* * * * *
ODE TO THE LONDON STONE.
_(For the Mirror.)_
Mound of antiquity's dark hidden ways,
Though long thou'st slumber'd in thy holy niche,
Now, the first time, a modern bard essays
To crave thy primal use, the what and which!
Speak! break my sorry ignorance asunder!
City stone-henge, of aldermanic wonder.
Wert them a fragment of a Druid pile,
Some glorious throne of early British art?
Some trophy worthy of our rising isle,
Soon from its dull obscurity to start.
Wert thou an altar for a world's respect?
Now the sole remnant of thy fame and sect.
Wert thou a churchyard ornament, to braid
The charnel of putridity, and part
The spot where what was mortal had been laid,
With all thy native coldness in his heart?
Thou sure wert not the stone--let critics cavil!--
Of quack M.D. who lectur'd on the gravel.
Did e'er fat Falstaff, wreathing 'neath his cup
Of glorious sack, unable to reel home,
Sit on thy breast, and give his fancy up,
The all that wine had given pow'r to roam,
And left the mind in gay, but dreamy talk,
Wakeful in wit when legs denied to walk?
Did e'er wise Shakspeare brood upon thy mass,
And whimsey thee to any wondrous use
Of sage forefathers, in his verse to class
That which a worse bard had despis'd to choose,
Unconscious how the meanest objects grow,
Giants of notice in the poet's show?
Canst thou not tell a tale of varied life,
That gave Time's annals their recording name?
No notes of Cade, marching with mischief rife,
By Britain's misery to raise his fame?
Wert thou the hone that "City's Lord" essay'd
To make the whetstone of his rebel blade?
Wert thou--'tis pleasant to imagine it,
Howe'er absurd such notions may be thought--
When the wide heavens, wild with thunder fit,
Huge hailstones to distress the nation wrought,
A mass congeal'd of heaven's artill'ry wain,
A "hailstone chorus" of a Mary's reign?
Or, wert thou part of monumental shrine
Rais'd to a genius, who, for daily bread,
While living, the base world had left to pine,
Only to find his value out when dead?
Say, wert thou any such memento lone,
Of bard who wrote for bread, and got a stone?
How many nations slumber on their deeds.
The all that's left them of their mighty race?
How may heroes' bosoms, wars, and creeds
Have sought in stilly death a resting place,
Since thou first gave thy presence to the air,
Thou, who art looking scarce the worse for wear!
Oft may each wave have travell'd to the shore,
That ends the vasty ocean's unknown sway,
Since thou wert first from earth's remotest pore,
Rais'd as an emblem of man's craft to lay;
Yet those same waves shall dwindle into earth,
Ere, lost in time, we learn thy primal worth.
They tell us "walls have ears"--then why, forsooth,
Hast thou no tongue, like ancient stones of Rome,
To paint the gory days of Britain's youth,
And what thou wert when viler was thy home?
Man makes thy kindred record of his name--
Hast _thou_ no tongue to historize thy fame?
But thou! O, thou hast nothing to repeat!
Lump of mysteriousness, the hand of Time
No early pleasures from thy breast could cheat,
Or witness in decay thine early prime!
Yes, thou didst e'er in stony slumbers lay,
Defying each M'Adam of his day.
Eternity of stone! Time's lasting shrine!
Whose minutes shall by thee unheeded pour!
With whom in still companionship thou'lt twine
The past, the present, shall be evermore,
While innate strength shall shield thee from his hurt,
And worlds remain _stone blind_ to what thou wert.
 "Now is Mortimer lord of the city."--Vide Shakspeare.
 In the reign of Mary, hailstones, which measured fifteen
inches in circumference, fell upon and destroyed two small towns
near Nottingham.--Cooper's Hist. England.
* * * * *
A SWEDISH TRADITION.
_(For the Mirror.)_
His cheek was blanch'd, but beautiful and soft, each curling tress
Wav'd round the harp, o'er which he bent with zephyrine caress;
And as that lyrist sat all lorn, upon the silv'ry stream,
The music of his harp was as the music of a dream,
Most mournfully delicious, like those tones that wound the heart,
Yet soothe it, when it cherishes the griefs that ne'er depart.
"O Neck! O water-spirit! demon, delicate, and fair!"
The young twain cried, who heard his lay, "_why_ art thou harping there?
Thine airy form is drooping, Neck! thy cheek is pale with dree,
And torrents shouldst thou weep, poor fay, _no Saviour lives for thee!_"
All mournful look'd the elflet then, and sobbing, cast aside
His harp, and with a piteous wail, sunk fathoms in the tide.
Keen sorrow seiz'd those gentle youths, who'd given cureless pain--
In haste they sought their priestly sire, in haste return'd again;
Return'd to view the elf enthron'd in waters as before,
Whose music now was sighs, whose tears gush'd e'en from his heart's core.
"Why weeping, Neck? look up, and clear those tearful eyes of blue--
Our father bids us say, that thy _Redeemer liveth too!_"
Oh, beautiful! blest words! they sooth'd the Nikkar's anguish'd breast,
As breezy, angel-whisperings lull holy ones to rest.
He seiz'd his harp--its airy strings, beneath a master hand,
Woke melodies, too, _too_ divine for earth or elfin land;
He rais'd his glad, rich voice in song, and sinking saw the sun,
Ere in that hymn of love he paus'd, for Paradise begun!
 "The Neck, a water-spirit, answering, in Sweden, &c. to the
Scottish kelpie, as to its place of abode; but we believe its
character is not so mischievous. The northern idea, that all
fairies, demons, &c. who resided in this world, were spirits out
of the pale of salvation, is very ancient. Mr. Keightley assures
us, that the legend of which these stanzas attempt a
versification, is extremely popular in Sweden."--Vide "Fairy
* * * * *
PLAN FOR SNUFF TAKERS TO PAY OFF THE NATIONAL DEBT.
_(For the Mirror.)_
As snuff-taking seems to increase, the following plan might be adopted by
the patrons of that art, to ease _John Bull_ of his _weight_, and make
him feel as _light_ and _easy_, as if he had taken a _pinch of the
"Prince Regent's Mixture_.'"
Lord Stanhope says, "Every professed, inveterate, and incurable
snuff-taker, at a moderate computation, takes one pinch in ten minutes.
Every pinch, with the agreeable ceremony of blowing and wiping the nose,
and other incidental circumstances, consumes a minute and a half. One
minute and a half out of every ten, allowing sixteen hours and a half to
a snuff-taking day, amounts to two hours and twenty-four minutes out of
every natural day, or one day out of every ten. One day out of every ten
amounts to thirty-six days and a half in a-year. Hence, if we suppose the
practice to be persisted in forty years, two entire years of the
snuff-taker's life will be dedicated to tickling his nose, and two more
to blowing it. The expense of snuff, snuff-boxes, and handkerchiefs, will
be the subject of a second essay, in which it will appear, that this
luxury encroaches as much on the income of the snuff-taker as it does on
his time; and that by a proper application of the time and money thus
lost to the public, a fund might be constituted for the discharge of the
Queries.--Is not this subject worthy the attention of the finance
committee? Might not the _cigar gentlemen add_ to the discharge of the
* * * * *
THE DIVIDED HOUSEHOLD.
_(For the Mirror.)_
Our hearth--we hear its music now--to us a bower and home;
When will its lustre in our souls with Spring's young freshness come?
Sweet faces beam'd around it then, and cherub lips did weave
Their clear Hosannas in the glow that ting'd the skies at eve!
Oh, lonely is our forest stream, and bare the woodland tree,
And whose sunny wreath of leaves the cuckoo carolled free;
The pilgrim passeth by our cot--no hand shall greet him there--
The household is divided now, and mute the evening pray'r!
Amid green walks and fringed slopes, still gleams the village pond.
And see, a hoar and sacred pile, the old church peers beyond;
And there we deem'd it bliss to gaze upon the Sabbath skies,--
Gold as our sister's clustering hair, and blue as her meek eyes.
Our home--when will these eyes, now dimm'd with frequent weeping, see
The infant's pure and rosy ark, the stripling's sanctuary?
When will these throbbing hearts grow calm around its lighted hearth?--
Quench'd is the fire within its walls, and hush'd the voice of mirth!
The haunts--they are forsaken now--where our companions play'd;
We see their silken ringlets glow amid the moonlight glade;
We hear their voices floating up like paean songs divine;
Their path is o'er the violet-beds beneath the springing vine!
Restore, sweet spirit of our home! our native hearth restore--
Why are our bosoms desolate, our summer rambles o'er?
Let thy mild light on us be pour'd--our raptures kindle up,
And with a portion of thy bliss illume the household cup.
Yet mourn not, wanderers--onto you a thrilling hope is given,
A tabernacle unconfin'd, an endless home in heaven!
And though ye are divided now, ye shall be made as one
In Eden, beauteous as the skies that o'er your childhood shone!
* * * * *
A CHAPTER ON KISSING.
BY A PROFESSOR OF THE ART.
_(For the Mirror.)_
"Away with your fictions of flimsy romance,
Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove;
Give me the mild gleam of the soul breathing glance,
And the rapture which dwells in the first _kiss_ of love."
There is no national custom so universally and so justly honoured with
esteem and respect, "winning golden opinions from all sorts of people,"
as kissing. Generally speaking, we discover that a usage which finds
favour in the eyes of the vulgar, is despised and detested by the
educated, the refined, and the proud; but this elegant practice forms a
brilliant exception to a rule otherwise tolerably absolute. Kissing
possesses infinite claims to our love, claims which no other custom in
the wide world can even pretend to advance. Kissing is an endearing,
affectionate, ancient, rational, and national mode of displaying the
thousand glowing emotions of the soul;--it is traced back by some as far
as the termination of the siege of Troy, for say they, "Upon the return
of the Grecian warriors, their wives met them, and joined their lips
together with joy." There are some, however, who give the honour of
having invented kissing to Rouix, or Rowena, the daughter of Hengist, the
Saxon; a Dutch historian tells us, she, "pressed the beaker with her
lipkens (little lips,) and saluted the amorous Vortigern with a husgin
(little kiss,)" and this latter authority we ourselves feel most inclined
to rely on; deeply anxious to secure to our fair countrywomen the honour
of having invented this delightful art.
Numberless are the authors who have written and spoken with rapture on
"The women of England," says Polydore Virgil, "not only salute their
relations with a kiss, but all persons promiscuously; and this ceremony
they repeat, gently touching them with their lips, not only with grace,
but without the least immodesty. Such, however, as are of the blood-royal
do not kiss their inferiors, but offer the back of the hand, as men do,
by way of saluting each other."
Erasmus too--the grave, the phlegmatic Erasmus, melts into love and
playful thoughts, when he thinks of kisses--"Did you but know, my
Faustus," he writes to one of his friends, "the pleasures which England
affords, you would fly here on winged feet, and if your gout would not
allow you, you would wish yourself a Daedalus. To mention to you one among
many things, here are nymphs of the loveliest looks, good humoured, and
whom you would prefer even to your favourite Muses. Here also prevails a
custom never enough to be commended, that wherever you come, every one
receives you with a kiss, and when you take your leave, every one gives
you a kiss; when you return, kisses again meet you. If any one leaves you
they give you a kiss; if you meet any one, the first salutation is a
kiss; in short, wherever you go, kisses every where abound; which, my
Faustus, did you once taste how very sweet and how very fragrant they
are, you would not, like Solon, wish for ten years exile in England, but
would desire to spend there the whole of your life."
Oh what miracles have been wrought by a kiss! Philosophers, stoics,
hermits, and misers have become men of the world, of taste, and of
generosity; idiots have become wise; and, truth to tell, wise men
idiots--warriors have turned cowards and cowards brave--statesmen have
become poets, and political economists sensible men. Oh, wonderful art,
which can produce such strange effects! to thee, the magic powers of
steam seem commonplace and tedious; the wizard may break his rod in
despair, and the king his sceptre, for thou canst effect in a moment what
they may vainly labour years to accomplish. Well may the poet celebrate
thy praises in words that breathe and thoughts that burn; well may the
minstrel fire with sudden inspiration and strike the lute with rapture
when he thinks of thee; well might the knight of bygone times brave every
danger when thou wert his bright reward; well might Vortigern resign his
kingdom, or Mark Antony the world, when it was thee that tempted. Long,
long, may England be praised for her prevalence of this divine custom!
Long may British women be as celebrated for the fragrance of their
kisses, as they ever were, and ever will be for their virtue and their
* * * * *
NOTES OF A READER.
* * * * *
"COMPANION TO THE THEATRES."
An inveterate play-goer announces a little manual under this title, for
publication in a few days. Such a work, if well executed, will be very
acceptable to the amateur and visitor, as well as attractive to the
general reader. The outline or plan looks well, and next week we may
probably give our readers some idea of its execution.
* * * * *
VOYAGE TO INDIA.
The generality of our society on board was respectable, and some of its
members were men of education and talent. Excepting that there was no
lady of the party, it was composed of the usual materials to be found at
the cuddy-table of an outward bound Indiaman. First, there was a puisne
judge, intrenched in all the dignity of a dispenser of law to his
majesty's loving subjects beyond the Cape, with a _Don't tell me_ kind of
face, a magisterial air, and dictatorial manner, ever more ready to lay
down the law, than to lay down the lawyer. Then, there was a general
officer appointed to the staff in India, in consideration of his services
on Wimbledon Common and at the Horse Guards, proceeding to teach the art
military to the Indian army--a man of gentlemanly but rather pompous
manners; who, considering his simple nod equivalent to the bows of half a
dozen subordinates, could never swallow a glass of wine at dinner without
lumping at least that number of officers or civilians in the invitation
to join him, while his aid-de-camp practised the same airs among the
cadets. Then, there was a proportion of civilians and Indian officers
returning from furlough or sick certificate, with patched-up livers, and
lank countenances, from which two winters of their native climate had
extracted only just sufficient sunbeams to leave them of a dirty lemon
colour. Next, there were a few officers belonging to detachments of
king's troops proceeding to join their regiments in India, looking, of
course, with some degree of contempt on their brethren in arms, whose
rank was bounded by the longitude of the Cape; but condescending to
patronize some of the most gentlemanly of the cadets. These, with a free
mariner, and no inconsiderable sprinkling of writers, cadets, and
assistant-surgeons, together with the officers of the ship, who dined at
the captain's table, formed a party of about twenty-five.--_Twelve Years'
* * * * *
EDUCATION IN DENMARK.
Much pains has lately been taken in Denmark to promote the means of
elementary education, and Lancasterian schools have been generally
established throughout the country. We have now before us the Report made
to the king by the Chevalier Abrahamson, of the progress, prospects, and
present state of the schools for mutual instruction in Denmark, to the
28th of January, 1828, by which it appears, that 2,371 schools for mutual
instruction have been established, and are in full progress, in the
different districts of the kingdom and in the army.--_North American
* * * * *
Some faint idea of the bulk of our English records may be obtained, by
adverting to the fact, that a single statute, the Land Tax Commissioners'
Act, passed in the first year of the reign of his present majesty,
measures, when unrolled, upwards of _nine hundred feet_, or nearly twice
the length of St. Paul's Cathedral within the walls; and if it ever
should become necessary to consult the fearful volume, an able-bodied man
must be employed during three hours in coiling and uncoiling its
monstrous folds. Should our law manufactory go on at this rate, and we do
not anticipate any interruption in its progress, we may soon be able to
belt the round globe with parchment. When, to the solemn acts of
legislature, we add the showers of petitions, which lie (and in more
senses than one) upon the table, every night of the session; the bills,
which, at the end of every term, are piled in stacks, under the parental
custody of our good friends, the Six Clerks in Chancery; and the
innumerable membranes, which, at every hour of the day, are transmitted
to the gloomy dens and recesses of the different courts of common-law and
of criminal jurisdiction throughout the kingdom, we are afraid that there
are many who may think that the time is fast approaching for performing
the operation which Hugh Peters recommended as "A good work for a good
Magistrate." This learned person, it will be recollected, exhorted the
commonwealth men to destroy all the muniments in the Tower--a proposal
which Prynne considers as an act inferior only in atrocity to his
participation in the murder of Charles I., and we should not be surprised
if some zealous reformer were to maintain, that a general conflagration
of these documents would be the most essential benefit that could be
conferred upon the realm.--_Quarterly Rev._
* * * * *
In the German universities an extensive branch of lectures is formed by
the _Encyclopaedias_ of the various sciences. Encyclopaedia originally
implied the complete course or circle of a liberal education in science
and art, as pursued by the young men of Greece; namely, gymnastics, a
cultivated taste for their own classics, music, arithmetic, and geometry.
European writers give the name of _encyclopaedia_, in the widest
scientific sense, to the whole round or empire of human knowledge,
arranged in systematic or alphabetic order; whereas the Greek imports but
practical school knowledge. The literature of the former is voluminous
beyond description, it having been cultivated from the beginning of the
middle ages to the present day. Different from either of them is the
_encyclopaedia_ of the German universities; this is an introduction into
the several arts and sciences, showing the nature of each, its extent,
utility, relation to other studies and to practical life, the best method
of pursuing it, and the sources from whence the knowledge of it is to be
derived. An introduction of this compass is, however, with greater
propriety styled _encyclopaedia and methodology_. Thus, we hear of
separate lectures on encyclopaedias and methodologies of divinity,
jurisprudence, medicine, philosophy, mathematical sciences, physical
science, the fine arts, and philology. Manuals and lectures of this kind
are exceedingly useful for those who are commencing a course of
professional study. For "the best way to learn any science," says Watts,
"is to begin with a regular system, or a short and plain scheme of that
science, well drawn up into a narrow compass."--_Ibid._
* * * * *
The following sketch of a Persian cavalier has the richness and freshness
of one of Heber's, or Morier's or Sir John Malcolm's pages:--"He was a
man of goodly stature, and powerful frame; his countenance, hard,
strongly marked, and furnished with a thick, black beard, bore testimony
of exposure to many a blast, but it still preserved a prepossessing
expression of good humour and benevolence. His turban, which was formed
of a cashmere shawl, sorely tached and torn, and twisted here and there
with small steel chains, according to the fashion of the time, was wound
around a red cloth cap, that rose in four peaks high above the head. His
oemah, or riding coat, of crimson cloth much stained and faded, opening
at the bosom, showed the links of a coat of mail which he wore below; a
yellow shawl formed his girdle; his huge shulwars, or riding trousers, of
thick, fawn-coloured Kerman woollen-stuff, fell in folds over the large
red leather boots in which his legs were cased: by his side hung a
crooked scymetar in a black leather scabbard, and from the holsters of
his saddle peeped out the butt ends of a pair of pistols; weapons of
which I then knew not the use, any more than of the matchlock which was
slung at his back. He was mounted on a powerful but jaded horse, and
appeared to have already travelled far."--_Kuzzilbash._
* * * * *
The national glory of Great Britain rests, in no small degree, on the
refined taste and classical education of her politicians; and the portion
of her oratory acknowledged to be the most energetic, bears the greatest
resemblance to the spirit of Demosthenes.--_North American Review._
* * * * *
The City of London could not do a more fitting thing than to convert the
Gresham lectureships into fourteen scholarships for King's College,
retaining the name and reserving the right of presentation. A bounty
which is at present useless would thus be rendered efficient, and to the
very end which was intended by Gresham himself. An act of parliament
would be necessary; and the annexations would of course take place as the
lectureships became vacant.--_Quarterly Rev._
 See MIRROR, vol. xii. page 34.
* * * * *
In Germany, seminaries for the education of popular teachers, are
conducted by distinguished divines of each state, who, for the most part,
reside in the capital, and are the same persons who examine each
clergyman three times before his ordination. Unless a candidate can give
evidence of his ability, and of, at least, a two years' stay in those
popular Institutions where religious instruction is the main object, he
is not allowed to teach any branch of knowledge whatever.--_Russell's
Tour in Germany._
* * * * *
Captain Clapperton being near that part of the Quorra, where Mungo Park
perished, our traveller thought he might get some information of this
melancholy event. The head man's story is this:--"That the boat stuck
fast between two rocks; that the people in it laid out four anchors
a-head; that the water falls down with great rapidity from the rocks, and
that the white men, in attempting to get on shore, were drowned; that
crowds of people went to look at them, but the white men did not shoot at
them as I had heard; that the natives were too much frightened either to
shoot at them or to assist them; that there were found a great many
things in the boat, books and riches, which the Sultan of Boussa has got;
that beef cut in slices and salted was in great plenty in the boat; that
the people of Boussa who had eaten of it all died, because it was human
flesh, and that they knew we white men eat human flesh. I was indebted to
the messenger of Yarro for a defence, who told the narrator that I was
much more nice in my eating than his countrymen were. But it was with
some difficulty I could persuade him that if his story was true, it was
the people's own fears that had killed them; that the meat was good beef
or mutton: that I had eaten more goats' flesh since I had been in this
country than ever I had done in my life; that in England we eat nothing
but fowls, beef, and mutton."--_Clapperton's Travels._
* * * * *
We find in a statement of the raw silk imported into England, from all
parts of the world, that in 1814, it amounted to one million, six
hundred and thirty-four thousand, five hundred and one pounds; and in
1824, to three millions, three hundred and eighty-two thousand, three
hundred and fifty-seven. Italy, which is not better situated in regard
to the culture of silk than a large portion of the United States,
furnishes to the English fabrics about eight hundred thousand pounds'
weight. The Bengal silk is complained of by the British manufacturers, on
account of its defective preparation; by bestowing more care on his
produce, the American cultivator could have in England the advantage over
the British East Indies. It is a fact well worthy of notice, and the
accuracy of which seems warranted by its having been brought before a
Committee of both Houses of Parliament, that the labour in preparing new
silk affords much more employment to the country producing it, than any
other raw material. It appears from an official document, that the value
of the imports of raw silk into France, during the year 1824, amounted to
thirty seven millions, one hundred and forty-nine thousand, nine hundred
and sixty francs.--_North American Review._
 The official values of these imports are L703,009 and L1,464,994.
* * * * *
A union of three persons, cemented by a conformity of taste and
character, constitutes, in the opinion of the Chinese, the perfection of
earthly happiness, a sort of ideal bliss, reserved by heaven for peculiar
favourites as a suitable reward for their talent and virtue. Looking at
the subject under this point of view, their novel-writers not
unfrequently arrange matters so as to secure this double felicity to
their heroes at the close of the work; and a catastrophe of this kind is
regarded as the most satisfactory that can be employed. Without exposing
ourselves to the danger incurred by one of the German divines, who was
nearly torn to pieces by the mob of Stockholm for defending polygamy, we
may venture to remark, that for the mere purposes of art, this system
certainly possesses very great advantages. It furnishes the novel-writer
with an easy method of giving general satisfaction to all his characters,
at the end of the tale, without recurring to the fatal though convenient
intervention of consumption and suicide, with us the only resources, when
there happens to be a heroine too many. What floods of tears would not
the Chinese method have spared to the high-minded Corinna, to the
interesting and poetical Clementina! From what bitter pangs would it not
have relieved the irresolute Oswald, perhaps even the virtuous Grandison
himself! The Chinese are entitled to the honour of having invented the
domestic and historical novel several centuries before they were
introduced in Europe. Fables, tales of supernatural events, and epic
poems, belong to the infancy of nations; but the real novel is the
product of a later period in the progress of society, when men are led to
reflect upon the incidents of domestic life, the movement of the
passions, the analysis of sentiment, and the conflicts of adverse
interests and opinions.--_Preface to a French Translation of a Chinese
* * * * *
HERO OF A CHINESE NOVEL.
There came out a youth of about fifteen or sixteen years of age, dressed
in a violet robe with a light cap on his head. His vermilion lips,
brilliant white teeth, and arched eye-brows gave him the air of a
charming girl. So graceful and airy are his movements, that one might
well ask, whether he be mortal or a heavenly spirit. He looks like a
sylph formed of the essence of flowers, or a soul descended from the
moon. Is it indeed a youth who has come out to divert himself, or is it a
sweet perfume from the inner apartment?--_Ibid._
* * * * *
It has been the custom, from the earliest ages, to rub the inside of the
hive with a handful of salt and clover, or some other grass or
sweet-scented herb, previously to the swarm's being put in the hive. We
have seen no advantage in this; on the contrary, it gives a great deal of
unnecessary labour to the bees, as they will be compelled to remove every
particle of foreign matter from the hive before they begin to work. A
clean, cool hive, free from any peculiar smell or mustiness, will be
acceptable to the bees; and the more closely the hive is joined together,
the less labour will the insects have, whose first care it is to stop up
every crevice, that light and air may be excluded. We must not omit to
reprehend, as utterly useless, the vile practice of making an astounding
noise, with tin pans and kettles, when the bees are swarming. It may have
originated in some ancient superstition, or it may have been the signal
to call aid from the fields, to assist in the hiving. If harmless it is
unnecessary; and everything that tends to encumber the management of bees
should be avoided.--_American Farmer's Manual._
* * * * *
CONVENT GARDEN MARKET.
[Illustration: Covent Garden Market.--"Here to-day, and gone
I know some of the ugliest men who are the most agreeable fellows in the
world. The ladies may doubt this remark; but if they compel me to produce
an example, I shall waive all modesty, and prove my veracity by quoting
_myself_. I have often thought how it is that ugliness contrives to
invest itself with a "_certain something_," that not only destroys its
disagreeable properties, but actually commands an interest--(by the by,
this is referring _generally_, and nothing personal to myself.) I
philosophically refer it all to the _balance of nature_. Now I know some
very ugly places that have a degree of interest, and here again I fancy a
lady's sceptical ejaculation, "Indeed!" Ay, but it is so; and let us go
no further than Covent Garden. Enter it from Russell-street. What can be
more unsightly,--with its piles of cabbages in the street, and
basket-measures on the roofs of the shops--narrow alleys, wooden
buildings, rotting vegetables "undique," and swarms of Irish
basket-women, who wander about like the ghosts on this side of the Styx,
and who, in habits, features, and dialect, appear as if belonging to
another world. Yet the Garden, like every garden, has its charms. I have
lounged through it on a summer's day, mixing with pretty women, looking
upon choice fruit, smelling delicious roses, with now and then an
admixture of sundry disagreeables, such as a vigorous puff out of an ugly
old woman's doodeen, just as you are about to make a pretty speech to a
much prettier lady--to say nothing of the unpleasant odours arising from
heaps of putrescent vegetables, or your hat being suddenly knocked off by
a contact with some unlucky Irish basket-woman, with cabbages piled on
her head sufficient for a month's consumption at Williams's boiled beef
and cabbage warehouse, in the Old Bailey. The narrow passages through
this mart remind me of the Chinese streets, where all is shop, bustle,
squeeze, and commerce. The lips of the fair promenaders I collate (in my
mind's eye, gentle reader) with the delicious cherry, and match their
complexions with the peach, the nectarine, the rose, red or white, and
even sometimes with the russet apple. Then again I lounge amidst chests
of oranges, baskets of nuts, and other _et cetera_, which, as boys, we
relished in the play-ground, or, in maturer years, have enjoyed at the
wine feast. Here I can saunter in a green-house among plants and heaths,
studying botany and beauty. Facing me is a herb-shop, where old nurses,
like Medeas of the day, obtain herbs for the sick and dying; and within a
door or two flourishes a vender of the choicest fruits, with a rich
display of every luxury to delight the living and the healthy.
I know of no spot where such variety may be seen in so small a compass.
Rich and poor, from the almost naked to the almost naked lady (of
fashion, of course.) "Oh crikey, Bill," roared a chimney-sweep in high
glee. The villain turned a pirouette in his rags, and in the centre mall
of the Garden too; he finished it awkwardly, made a stagger, and
recovered himself against--what?--"_Animus meminisse horret_"--against a
lady's white gown! But he apologized. Oh, ye gods! his apology was so
sincere, his manner was so sincere, that the true and thorough gentleman
was in his every act and word. (Mem. merely as a corroboration, the lady
forgave him.) What a lesson would this act of the man of high callings
(from the chimney-tops) have been to our mustachioed and be-whiskered
dandies, who, instead of apologizing to a female after they may have
splashed her from head to foot, trod on her heel, or nearly carried away
her bonnet, feathers, cap, and wig, only add to her confusion by an
unmanly, impudent stare or sneer!
But to the Garden again. I like it much; it is replete with humour, fun,
and drollery; it contributes a handsome revenue to the pocket of his
Grace the Duke of Bedford, besides supplying half the town with cabbages
and melons, (the richest Melon on record came from Covent-Garden, and was
graciously presented to our gracious sovereign.)
The south side appears to be devoted to potatoes, a useful esculent, and
of greater use to the poor than all the melons in christendom. Here
kidneys and champions are to be seen from Scotland, York, and Kent; and
here have I observed the haggard forms of withered women
"In rags and tatters, friendless and forlorn,"
creeping from shop to shop, bargaining for "a good pen'orth of the best
boilers;" and here have I often watched the sturdy Irishman walking with
a regular connoisseur's eye, peeping out _above_ a short pipe, and
_below_ a narrow-brimmed hat,--a perfect, keen, twinkling, connoisseur's
eye, critically examining every basket for the best lot of his _own
Now let us take a retrospective view of this our noble theme, and our
interest will be the more strengthened thereon. All the world knows that
a convent stood in this neighbourhood, and the present market was the
garden, _unde_ Convent Garden; would that all etymologists were as
distinct. Of course the monastic institution was abolished in the time of
Henry VIII., when he plundered convents and monasteries with as much
_gusto_ as boys abolish wasps-nests. After this it was given to Edmund
Seymour, Duke of Somerset, brother-in-law to Henry VIII., afterwards the
protector of his country, but not of himself for he was beheaded in
1552. The estate then became, by royal grant, the property of the Bedford
family; and in the Privy Council Records for March, 1552, is the
following entry of the transfer:--"A patent granted to John, Earl of
Bedford, of the gifts of the Convent Garden, lying in the parish of St.
Martin's-in-the-Fields, near Charing Cross, with seven acres, called Long
Acre, of the yearly value of 6l. 6s. 8d. parcel of the possessions of the
late Duke of Somerset, to have to him and his heirs, reserving a tenure
to the king's majesty in socage, and not in capite." In 1634, Francis,
Earl of Bedford, began to clear away the old buildings, and form the
present square; and in 1671, a patent was granted for a market, which
shows the rapid state of improvement in this neighbourhood, because in
the Harleian MSS., No. 5,900, British Museum, is a letter, written in the
early part of Charles II., by an observing foreigner to his friend
abroad, who notices Bloomsbury, Hungerford, Newport, and other markets,
but never hints of the likelihood or prospect of one being established in
Covent Garden; yet before Charles's death the patent was obtained. It is
a market, _sui generis_, confined mostly to vegetables and fruits; and
the plan reflects much credit upon the speculative powers of the noble
earl who founded it.
Thus far goes the public history; now let us turn to the private
memoranda. In 1690, the parish, being very loyal, gave a grand display of
fire-works on the happy return of William the Third from Ireland; and in
the parish books appear the following entries on the subject, which will
give some idea of the moderate charges of parish festivities in those
"Sept. 23, 1690. L. s. d.
Paid to Mr. Brown for 200
ffaggotts and 30 brushes for
bonefire for the parish ---- 01 02 06
Sept. 25.--Paid Mr. Stockes
for a barrell of ale for bonefire ---- 01 00 00
Given to the watchmen to
drincke att the king's returne
from Ireland ---- 00 02 06
1691.--Given to Stockes and
ye watchmen to drincke att
the bonefire and fire workes
att the king's returne from
Ireland ---- 00 10 00
Oct. 12.--Paid the labourers
and carters for four dayes'
worke in laying and spreading
the gravell ---- 01 06 00
Making a grand total of L4. 1s. 0d. for a St. Paul's parish fete; but
this was in 1690. This festival was of sufficient note to engage the
artist's attention, and an engraving of it was sold by "B. Lens, between
Bridewell and Fleet Bridge in Blackfryers."
Convent Garden has been the abode of talented and noble men. Richardson's
Hotel was the residence of Dr. Hunter, the anatomical lecturer; and in
1724, Sir James Thornhill, who painted the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral,
resided in this garden and opened a school for drawing in his house.
Moreover, for the honour of the Garden, be it known, that at Sir Francis
Kynaston's house therein situated, Charles the First established an
academy called "_Museum Minervae_," for the instruction of gentlemen in
arts and sciences, knowledge of medals, antiquities, painting,
architecture, and foreign languages. Not a vestige remains of the museum
establishment now-a-days, or the subjects it embraced, unless it be
_foreign languages_, including wild Irish, and very low English. Even as
late as 1722, Lord Ferrers lived in Convent Garden; but this is trifling
compared with the list of nobles who have lived around about this
attractive spot, where nuns wandered in cloistered innocence, and now,
oh! for sentimentality, what a relief to a fine, sensitive mind, or a
In the front of the church quacks used to harangue the mob and give
advice gratis. Westminster elections are held also on the same
spot--that's a coincidence.
* * * * *
Manners & Customs of all Nations.
* * * * *
At Yourriba Captain Clapperton was invited to theatrical entertainments,
quite as amusing, and almost as refined as any which his celestial
Majesty can command to be exhibited before a foreign ambassador. The king
of Yourriba made a point of our traveller staying to witness these
entertainments. They were exhibited in the king's park, in a square
space, surrounded by clumps of trees. The first performance was that of a
number of men dancing and tumbling about in sacks, having their heads
fantastically decorated with strips of rags, damask silk, and cotton of
variegated colours; and they performed to admiration. The second
exhibition was hunting the _boa_ snake, by the men in the sacks. The huge
snake, it seems, went through the motions of this kind of reptile, "in a
very natural manner, though it appeared to be rather full in the belly,
opening and shutting its mouth in the most natural manner imaginable." A
running fight ensued, which lasted some time, till at length the chief of
the bag-men contrived to scotch his tail with a tremendous sword, when he
gasped, twisted up, seemed in great torture, endeavouring to bite his
assailants, who hoisted him on their shoulders, and bore him off in
triumph. The festivities of the day concluded with the exhibition of the
_white devil_, which had the appearance of a human figure in white wax,
looking miserably thin and as if starved with cold, taking snuff, rubbing
his hands, treading the ground as if tender-footed, and evidently meant
to burlesque and ridicule a white man, while his sable majesty frequently
appealed to Clapperton whether it was not well performed. After this the
king's women sang in chorus, and were accompanied by the whole crowd.
* * * * *
The price of a slave at Jannah, as nearly as can be calculated, is from
3l. to 4l. sterling; their domestic slaves, however, are never sold,
except for misconduct.
* * * * *
Capt. Clapperton tells of a widow's arrival in town, with a drummer
beating before her, whose cap was bedecked with ostrich feathers; a
bowman walking on foot at the head of her horse; a train behind, armed
with bows, swords, and spears. She rode a-straddle on a fine horse, whose
trappings were of the first order for this country. The head of the horse
was ornamented with brass plates, the neck with brass bells, and charms
sewed in various coloured leather, such as red, green, and yellow; a
scarlet breast-piece, with a brass plate in the centre; scarlet
saddle-cloth, trimmed with lace. She was dressed in red silk trousers,
and red morocco boots; on her head a white turban, and over her shoulders
a mantle of silk and gold. Had she been somewhat younger and less
corpulent, there might have been great temptation to head her party, for
she had certainly been a very handsome woman, and such as would have been
thought a beauty in any country in Europe.
* * * * *
She was of a dark copper colour. In dress and countenance, very like one
of Captain Lyon's female Esquimaux. She was mounted on a long-backed
bright bay horse, with a scraggy tale, crop-eared, and the mane as if the
rats had eaten part of it; and he was not in high condition. She rode
a-straddle; had on a conical straw dish-cover for a hat, or to shade her
face from the sun, a short, dirty, white bedgown, a pair of dirty, white,
loose and wide trousers, a pair of Houssa boots, which are wide, and
came up over the knee, fastened with a string round the waist. She had
also a whip and spurs. At her saddle-bow hung about half a dozen gourds,
filled with water, and a brass basin to drink out of; and with this she
supplied the wounded and the thirsty. I certainly was much obliged to
her, for she twice gave me a basin of water. The heat and the dust made
thirst almost intolerable--_Clapperton's Travels._
* * * * *
SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.
* * * * *
(_To the Editor of Blackwood's Magazine_.)
Sir,--In the course of my study in the English language, which I made now
for three years, I always read your periodically, and now think myself
capable to write at your Magazin. I love always the modesty, or you shall
have a letter of me very long time past. But, never mind, I would well
tell you, that I am come to this country to instruct me in the manners,
the customs, the habits, the policies, and the other affairs general of
Great Britain. And truly I think me good fortunate, being received in
many families, so as I can to speak your language now with so much
facility as the French.
But, never mind. That what I would you say, is not only for the
Englishes, but for the strangers, who come at your country from all the
other kingdoms, polite and instructed; because, as they tell me, that
they are abonnements for you in all the kingdoms in Europe, so well
as in the Orientals and Occidentals.
No, sir, upon my honour, I am not egotist. I not proud myself with
chateaux en Espagne. I am but a particular gentleman, come here for that
what I said; but, since I learn to comprehend the language, I discover
that I am become an object of pleasantry, and for himself to mock, to one
of your comedians even before I put my foot upon the ground at Douvres.
He was Mr. Mathew, who tell of some contretems of me and your word
detestable _Box_. Well, never mind. I know at present how it happen,
because I see him since in some parties and dinners; and he confess he
love much to go travel and mix himself altogether up with the stage-coach
and vapouring boat for fun, what he bring at his theatre.
 Bateau an vapeur--a steam-boat.
Well, never mind. He see me, perhaps, to ask a question in the
paque-bot--but he not confess after, that he goed and bribe the garcon
at the hotel and the coach man to mystify me with all the boxes; but,
very well, I shall tell you how it arrived, so as you shall see that it
was impossible that a stranger could miss to be perplexed, and to
advertise the travellers what will come after, that they shall converse
with the gentlemen and not with the badinstructs.
But, it must that I begin. I am a gentleman, and my goods are in the
public rentes, and a chateau with a handsome propriety on the bank of
the Loire, which I lend to a merchant English, who pay me very well in
London for my expenses. Very well. I like the peace, nevertheless that I
was force, at other time, to go to war with Napoleon. But it is passed.
So I come to Paris in my proper post-chaise, where I selled him, and hire
one, for almost nothing at all, for bring me to Calais all alone, because
I will not bring my valet to speak French here where all the world is
 Rentes--public funds.
The morning following I get upon the vapouring boat to walk so far as
Douvres. It was fine day--and, after I am recover myself of a malady of
the sea, I walk myself about the shep, and I see a great mechanic of
wood, with iron wheel, and thing to push up inside, and handle to turn.
It seemed to be ingenuous, and proper to hoist great burdens. They use it
for shoving the timber, what come down of the vessel, into the place; and
they tell me it was call "Jaques in the _box;_" and I was very much
please with the invention so novel.
Very well. I go again promenade upon the board of the vessel, and I look
at the compass, and little boy sailor come and sit him down, and begin to
chatter like the little monkey. Then the man what turns a wheel about and
about laugh, and say, "Very well, Jaques;" but I not understand one word
the little fellow say. So I make inquire, and they tell me he was "_Box_
the compass." I was surprise, but I tell myself, "Well, never mind;" and
so we arrived at Douvres. I find myself enough well in the hotel, but as
there has been no table d'hote, I ask for some dinner, and it was long
time I wait; and so I walk myself to the customary house, and give the
key to my portmanteau to the Douaniers, or excisemen, as you call, for
them to see as I had not no snuggles in my equipage. Very well--I return
at my hotel, and meet one of the waiters, who tell me, (after I stand
little moment to the door to see the world what pass by upon a coach at
the instant,) "Sir," he say, "your dinner is ready."--"Very well," I make
response, "where, was it?"--"This way, sir," he answer; "I have put it
in a _box_ in the cafe room."--"Well--never mind," I say to myself; "when
a man himself finds in a stranger country, he must be never surprised.
'_Nil admirari._' Keep the eyes opened, and stare at nothing at all."
I found my dinner only there there, because I was so soon come from
France; but, I learn, another sort of the box was a partition and table
particular in a saloon, and I keep there when I eated some good sole
fritted, and some not cooked mutton cutlet; and a gentleman what was put
in another _box_, perhaps Mr. Mathew, because nobody not can know him
twice, like a cameleon he is, call for the "pepper _box_." Very well. I
take a cup of coffee, and then all my hards and portmanteau come with a
wheelbarrow; and, because it was my intention to voyage up at London with
the coach, and I find my many little things was not convenient, I ask the
waiter where I might buy a night sack, or get them tie up all together in
a burden. He was well attentive at my cares, and responded, that he shall
find me a _box_ to put them all into. Well, I say nothing to all but
"Yes," for fear to discover my ignorance; so he bring the little _box_
for the clothes and things into the great _box_ what I was put into; and
he did my affairs in it very well. Then I ask him for some spectacle in
the town, and he send boot-boy with me so far as the Theatre, and I go in
to pay. It was shabby poor little place, but the man what set to have the
money, when I say "how much," asked me if I would not go into the
_boxes_. "Very well," I say, "never mind--oh yes--to be sure;" and I find
very soon the _box_ was the loge, same thing. I had not understanding
sufficient in your tongue then to comprehend all what I hear--only one
poor maiger doctor, what had been to give his physic too long time at a
cavalier old man, was condemned to swallow up a whole _box_ of his proper
pills. "Very well," I say, "that must be egregious. It is cannot be
possible;" but they bring little a _box_, not more grand nor my thumb. It
seem to be to me very ridiculous; so I returned to my hotel at despair
how I could possibility learn a language what meant so many differents in
 La la, signifies passable, indifferent.
I found the same waiter, who, so soon as I come in, tell me, "Sir, did
you not say that you would go by the coach to-morrow morning?" I replied,
"Yes--and I have bespeaked a seat out of the side, because I shall wish
to amuse myself with the country, and you have no cabriolets in your
coaches."--"Sir," he say, very polite, "if you shall allow me, I would
recommend you the _box_, and then the coachman shall tell every
thing."--"Very well," I reply, "yes--to be sure--I shall have a _box_
then--yes;" and then I demanded a fire into my chamber, because I think
myself enrhumed upon the sea, and the maid of the chamber come to send me
in bed;--but I say, "No so quick, if you please; I will write to some
friend how I find myself in England. Very well--here is the fire, but
perhaps it shall go out before I have finish." She was pretty laughing
young woman, and say, "Oh no, sir, if you pull the bell, the porter, who
sit up all night, will come, unless you like to attend to it yourself,
and then you will find the coal-_box_ in the closet."--Well--I say
nothing but "Yes--oh yes." But, when she is gone, I look direct into the
closet, and see a _box_ not no more like none of the other _boxes_ what I
see all day than nothing.
 The cabriolet is the front part of the old French
diligence, with a hood and apron, holding three persons,
including the guard, or "conducteur."
Well--I write at my friends, and then I tumble about when I wake, and
dream in the sleep what should possible be the description of the _box_
what I must be put in to-morrow for my voyage.
In the morning, it was very fine time, I see the coach at the door, and I
walk all round before they bring the horses; but I see nothing what they
can call _boxes_, only the same kind as what my little business was put
into. So I ask for the post of letters at a little boots boy, who showed
me by the Quay, and tell me, pointing by his finger at a window--"There
see, there was the letter _box_," and I perceive a crevice. "Very
well--all _box_ again to-day," I say, and give my letter to the master of
postes, and go away again at the coach, where I very soon find out what
was coach-_box_, and mount myself upon it. Then come the coachman,
habilitated like the gentleman, and the first word he say
was--"Keephorses! Bring my _box_-coat!" and he push up a grand capote
with many scrapes.
"But--never mind," I say; "I shall see all the _boxes_ in time." So he
kick his leg upon the board, and cry "cheat!" and we are out into the
country in lesser than one minute, and roll at so grand pace, what I have
had fear we will be reversed. But after little times, I take courage, and
we begin to entertain together: but I hear one of the wheels cry squeak,
so I tell him, "Sir--one of the wheel would be greased;" then he make
reply, nonchalancely, "Oh--it is nothing but one of the _boxes_ what is
too tight." But it is very long time after as I learn that wheel a _box_
was pipe of iron what go turn round upon the axle.
Well--we fly away at the paces of charge. I see great castles, many; then
come a pretty house of country well ornamented, and I make inquire what
it should be. "Oh;" responsed he, "I not remember the gentleman's name,
but it is what we call a snug country _box_."
Then I feel myself abymed at despair, and begin to suspect that he amused
himself. But, still I tell myself, "Well--never mind; we shall see." And
then after sometimes, there come another house, all alone in a forest,
not ornated at all. "What, how you call that?" I demand of him.--"Oh!" he
responded again, "That is a shooting _box_ of Lord Killfots."--"Oh!" I
cry at last out, "that is little too strong;" but he hoisted his
shoulders and say nothing. Well, we come at a house of country, ancient,
with the trees cut like some peacocks, and I demand, "What you call these
trees?"--"_Box_, sir," he tell me. "Devil is in the _box_," I say at
myself. "But--never mind; we shall see." So I myself refreshed with a
pinch of snuff and offer him, and he take very polite, and remark upon an
instant, "That is a very handsome _box_ of yours, sir."
"Morbleu!" I exclaimed with inadvertencyness, but I stop myself. Then he
pull out his snuff-_box_, and I take a pinch, because I like at home to
be sociable when I am out at voyages, and not show some pride with
inferior. It was of wood beautiful with turnings, and colour of
yellowish. So I was pleased to admire very much, and inquire the name of
the wood, and again he say, "_Box_, Sir!" Well--I hold myself with
patience, but it was difficilly; and we keep with great gallop till we
come at a great crowd of the people. Then I say, "What for all so large
concourse?" "Oh!" he response again, "there is one grand _boxing_
match--a battle here to-day."--"Peste!" I tell myself, "a battle of
_boxes_! Well, never mind! I hope it can be a combat at the outrance, and
they all shall destroy one another, for I am fatigued."
Well--we arrive at an hotel, very superb, all as it ought, and I demand a
morsel to refresh myself. I go into a salon, but before I finish, great
noise come into the passage, and I pull the bell's rope to demand why so
great tapage? The waiter tell me, and he laugh at same time, but very
civil no less, "Oh, sir, it is only two of the women what quarrel, and
one has given another a _box_ on the ear."
Well--I go back on the coach-box, but I look, as I pass, at all the women
ear, for the _box_; but not none I see. "Well," I tell myself once more,
"never mind, we shall see;" and we drive on very passable and agreeable
times till we approached ourselves near London; but then come one another
coach of the opposition to pass by, and the coachman say, "No, my boy, it
shan't do!" and then he whip his horses, and made some traverse upon the
road, and tell to me, all the times, a long explication what the other
coachman have done otherwhiles, and finish not till we stop, and the
coach of opposition come behind him in one narrow place. Well--then he
twist himself round, and, with full voice, cry himself out at the another
man, who was so angry as himself, "I'll tell you what, my hearty! If you
comes some more of your gammon at me, I shan't stand, and you shall
yourself find in the wrong _box_." It was not for many weeks after as I
find out the wrong _box_ meaning.
Well--we get at London, at the coaches office, and I unlightened from my
seat, and go at the bureau for pay my passage, and gentleman very
politely demanded if I had some friend at London. I converse with him
very little time in voyaging, because he was in the interior; but I
perceive he is real gentleman. So, I say, "No, sir, I am stranger." Then
he very honestly recommend me at an hotel, very proper, and tell me,
"Sir, because I have some affairs at the Banque, I must sleep in the city
this night; but to-morrow I shall come at the hotel, where you shall find
some good attentions if you make the use of my name." "Very well," I tell
myself, "this is best." So we exchange the cards, and I have hackney
coach to come at my hotel, where they say, "No room, sir,--very
sorry,--no room." But I demand to stop the moment, and produce the card
what I could not read before, in the movements of the coach with the
darkness. The master of the hotel take it from my hand, and become very
polite at the instant, and whisper at the ear of some waiters, and these
come at me, and say, "Oh yes, sir. I know Mr. _Box_ very well. Worthy
gentleman, Mr. Box.--Very proud to incommode any friend of Mr. Box--pray
inlight yourself, and walk in my house." So I go in, and find myself very
proper, and soon come so as if I was in my own particular chamber; and
Mr. Box come next day, and I find very soon that he was the _right_ Box,
and not the _wrong_ box.--Ha, ha!--You shall excuse my badinage,--eh? But
never mind--I am going at Leicestershire to see the foxes hunting, and
perhaps will get upon a coach-box in the spring, and go at Edinburgh; but
I have fear I cannot come at your "Noctes," because I have not learn yet
to eat so great supper. I always read what they speak there twice over,
except what Mons. Le "Shepherd" say, what I read three time; but never
could comprehend exactly what he say, though I discern some time the
grand idea, what walk in darkness almost "visible," as your divine Milton
say. I am particular fond of the poetry. I read three books of the
"Paradise Lost" to Mr. Box, but he not hear me no more--he pronounce me
After one such compliment, it would be almost the same as ask you for
another, if I shall make apology in case I have not find the correct
ideotism of your language in this letter; so I shall not make none at
all,--only throw myself at your mercy, like a great critic. But never
mind,--we shall see. If you take this letter as it ought, I shall not
promise if I would not write you one other some time.
I conclude by presenting at you my compliments very respectful. I am
sorry for your gout and crutchedness, and hope you shall miss them in the
I have the honour of subscribe myself,
Your very humble and
Much obedient servant,
LOUIS LE CHEMINANT.
P.S.--Ha, ha!--It is very droll!--I tell my valet, we go at
Leicestershire for the hunting fox.--Very well.--So soon as I finish this
letter, he come and demand what I shall leave behind in orders for some
presents, to give what people will come at my lodgments for Christmas
* * * * *
* * * * *
ANTIQUITY OF THE ALDERMAN.
Alderman is derived from the Saxon word _ealderman_, that is a senior or
_alderman_, which by degrees came to stand for persons of great
distinction, because such were chosen to discharge the highest offices,
being those whose long experience rendered them most capable, and whose
birth and fortunes made them most conspicuous; and as they were generally
entrusted with the government of the counties, instead of saying the
governor, it was said the _ealderman_ of such a county. While the
heptarchy lasted, these offices were only during the king's pleasure; at
last they became during life. After the Danes were settled in England,
the title of _ealderman_ was changed into that of _earl_, and the Normans
introduced that of _count_, which, though different in its original
signification, meant, however, the same dignity. There were several sorts
of _ealdermen_; some were properly only governors of a province or
county, others were owners of their province, holding it as a fee of the
crown. These ealdermen, or earls, were honoured with titles of _reguli
subreguli_, _principes_, _patricii_, and some times _rex_. Those who were
only governors, had the title of ealderman of such a county, or sometimes
in Latin by the term _consul_. The first administered justice in their
own name, and appropriated to their own use all the revenues and profits
of their respective counties. The last administered justice in the king's
name and had only part of the profits assigned them. A third sort of
ealdermen were those, who upon account of their high birth, bore the
title, without any authority, out of which rank the governors were
generally chosen. There were also inferior ealdermen in cities or
boroughs, who administered justice in the king's name, and were dependent
on the great ealdermen, or earls, which by the name of _alderman_ still
continues among us to those inferior officers, while they are called
earls only. The office of the ealderman was wholly civil, and had nothing
to do with either military or ecclesiastical affairs. What power each of
them had, it is not easy to determine; but they were all obliged to have
some knowledge of the law. In the Saxon times, the bishop and ealderman
sat together to try causes; the one proceeded by the canons, the other by
the common law. Part of the ealderman's jurisdiction was to examine the
arms, and to raise the militia within such a district, in order to
suppress riot and execute the sentence of a court of justice. He had
likewise the cognizance of house-breaking, robbing, &c. Nor was it lawful
for any person to move from one place to another without a certificate
from the ealderman.
* * * * *
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
* * * * *
The following advertisement appeared in a New Orlean's journal:--Wanted,
two handsome ladies to assist in two bar-rooms, and to whom liberal wages
will be given. Beauties from New York, Charlestown, or Savannah will be
preferred. A well-shaped, well-looking black lady would meet
encouragement as an under bar-maid. Due attention will be paid to
applicants, at No. 60, Camp-street.
* * * * *
FRENCH MATRIMONIAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Matrimonial advertisements being standard articles in our own newspapers
at this period, as a pleasantry they may be compared with the following,
extracted from various French journals:--
Une demoiselle bien nee et aimable, ayant 120,000 francs de bien, desire
epouser un homme age et riche.
Une demoiselle de 24 ans, jolie et d'une education distinguee, ayant
40,000 francs comptant, et par la suite 200,000 francs, desire epouser un
jeune homme aimable, et ayant de la fortune.
Une demoiselle de 19 ans, sans fortune, mais jolie, aimable, et bien
elevee, desire epouser une homme age, et assez aise, pour pouvoir faire
quelque bien a sa mere.
* * * * *
Oh, silent was her grief and woe,
No tear her eye betray'd,
When Damon from his Anna fled,
And took some other maid!
But, ah, her bleeding heart did tell
What outward show denied;
For at that simple word, "Farewell,"
She bow'd her head and died!
* * * * *
TO A YOUNG LADY WHO REQUESTED THE AUTHOR TO RESTORE A LOCK OF HAIR HE HAD
TAKEN FROM HER.--_By E.S. Barrett._
By one only recompense can I be led
With this beautiful ringlet to part;
That should I restore you the _lock_ of your head,
You will give me the key of your heart.--_Atlas._
* * * * *
When the friends of the youngest Thelluson proposed making him a member
of parliament, he said, "he did not understand exactly what it was to be
in parliament, or what they meant by constituents in the country; but, if
there was any necessity to go backwards and forwards _for their orders_,
he could trot down as fast as any member of parliament in the kingdom."
* * * * *
Thomas Knight, Esq. whose paternal name was Brodnax, which, very early
in life, he changed for that of May, afterwards, by a statute of 9th
Geo. II. took the name of Knight, which occasioned a facetious member of
the house to get up, and propose "_a general bill_ to enable _that
gentleman to take what name he pleased_."
* * * * *
TOUCHSTONE FOR THE TIMES.
Midas (we read) with wond'rous art of old,
Whate'er he touch'd, at once transformed to gold;
This modern statesmen can reverse with ease,
Touch them with gold, they'll turn to what you please.
* * * * *
A wit being asked what the word _genius_ meant, replied, "If you had it
in you, you would not ask the question; but as you have not, you will
never know what it means."
* * * * *
POOR SACK, (HANGED.)
Though Sack's misdeed is punished right,
It never was intended
That he should leave his office quite,
He only is _suspended_.
* * * * *
_On a man of the name of Fish._
Worm's bait for fish; but here's a sudden change,
_Fish's_ bait for worms--is that not passing strange?
* * * * *
LIMBIRD'S EDITION OF THE
_Following Novels are already Published:_
Mackenzie's Man of Feeling 0 6
Paul and Virginia 0 6
The Castle of Otranto 0 6
Almoran and Hamet 0 6
Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia 0 6
The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne 0 6
Rasselas 0 8
The Old English Baron 0 8
Nature and Art 0 8
Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield 0 10
Sicilian Romance 1 0
The Man of the World 1 0
A Simple Story 1 4
Joseph Andrews 1 6
Humphry Clinker 1 8
The Romance of the Forest 1 8
The Italian 2 0
Zeluco, by Dr. Moore 2 6
Edward, by Dr. Moore 2 0
Roderick Random 2 6
The Mysteries of Udolpho 3 6
* * * * *
_Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,)
London, sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic; and by all
Newsman and Booksellers._
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