Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Elaine Walker and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.





THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION

VOL. XIII, No. 363.] SATURDAY, MARCH 28, 1829. [PRICE 2d.




GUY'S CLIFF.

    "A home of pleasure, a place meet for the Muses."--LELAND.


Warwick--what olden glories and tales of other times are associated with
this county. How many of its sites are connected with high-minded men and
great and glorious actions. To the antiquary, the poet, and the
philosopher, every foot is hallowed ground; and even the cold calculations
of the commercial speculator treat with regard a county whose manufactures
add to the stock of national wealth and importance. How many stories of
love, war, and chivalry are told of its halls, castles, and monasteries,
their lords and ladies and maidens of high birth. Kenilworth and
STRATFORD--Leicester, SHAKSPEARE and Warwick--like long trails of light,
all flit before us in this retrospective dream of the days of "merry
England."

Guy's Cliff is situated about one mile and a half north-east of Warwick.
Here the river Avon winds through fertile meadows; and on its western bank,
a combination of rock and wood, singularly picturesque, invited at an early
period the reveries of superstitious seclusion and poetical fancy. It is
supposed that here was an oratory, and a cell for the hermit, in Saxon
times; and it is certain that a hermit dwelt in this lovely recess in the
reigns of Edward III. and Henry IV. This is the spot to which the renowned
_Guy_, Earl of Warwick, is said to have retired after his duel with the
Danish Colbrond;[1] and here his neglected countess, the fair Felicia, is
reported to have interred his remains. It appears that Henry V. visited
Guy's Cliff, and was so charmed with its natural beauties, and, probably,
so much interested by the wild legend connected with the place, that he
determined to found a chantry for two priests here. But war and an early
death prevented the performance of this, among many other pious and
benevolent intentions ascribed to the heroic Henry. Such a chantry was,
however, founded in the first year of Henry VI. by Richard Beauchamp, Earl
of Warwick; but the chapel and some contiguous buildings were not completed
till after the earl's decease. In this delightful retreat lived John Rous,
the antiquary, as a chantry priest.

    [1] See MIRROR, vol xiii. p. 114.

About the middle of the eighteenth century, this estate passed to a private
gentleman, who built a handsome mansion here. But the chief attractions
are the natural beauties of the grounds--as the rock, on which the house
and chapel are built. Here is shown a cave, devoutly believed by
neighbouring peasants to be that which Guy "hewed with his own hands," and
in which he lived

    Like a Palmer poore.

The chapel founded by Richard Beauchamp was a plain, substantial edifice.
The founder caused to be carved from the solid rock on which this chapel
abuts, a rude statue of the famous Earl Guy, about eight feet in height. It
would appear, from a print in Dugdale's Warwickshire, that this figure was
well preserved in the seventeenth century.

       *       *       *       *       *


ANCIENT CROSSES IN ENGLAND.

(_For the Mirror._)

        "She doth stray about
  By holy _crosses_, where she kneels and prays
  For happy wedlock hours."

  SHAKSPEARE.


In former times, an idea of peculiar sanctity was annexed to crosses. They
not only marked civil and ecclesiastical limits, but probably served for
stations, when the bounds were visited in processions. It was a common
practice for mendicants to place themselves near some of these crosses, and
ask alms; whence the ancient proverb, "He begs like a cripple at a cross."
Cornwall abounds with stone crosses. In churchyards, by the side of roads,
and on the open downs, they remain solitary and neglected. In almost every
town that had an abbey, or any other religious foundation, there was one of
these structures. The monks frequently harangued the populace from these
crosses. Many of them still remain, exhibiting beautiful specimens of
architecture and sculpture. The most memorable and interesting objects of
this kind were those which King Edward I. erected at the different stages
where the corpse of Queen Eleanor rested, in its progress from
Nottinghamshire to London. Mr. Gough tells us, that there were originally
fifteen of these elegant structures; but only three are now remaining,
which, by their peculiar beauty, as specimens of architecture and
productions of art, serve to excite regret at the destruction of the
others. The first of the three above-mentioned, is the cross at Geddington,
about three miles from Kettering, in Northamptonshire. The second is the
Queen's Cross, near Northampton. The third is the cross at Waltham, in
Hertfordshire. For a further account of these crosses, see Mr. Britton's
"Architectural Antiquities of Great Britain."

P.T.W.

       *       *       *       *       *


TO R.H., ON HER DEPARTURE FOR LONDON.

(_For the Mirror._)

  "Alas for me! false hearts I've found, where I had deem'd them true,
  And stricken hopes lie all around where'er I turn my view;
  Yet it may be, when far remov'd, the voice of memory
  May yet remind thee how we lov'd, with its reproving sigh."

  ANONYMOUS.


  Farewell! farewell! a sad farewell!
    'Tis fate's decree that we should part;
  Forebodings strange my bosom tell,
    That others now will pain thy heart:
  If so, calm as the waveless deep,
    Whereby the passing gust has blown,
  Unmark'd, the eye will turn to weep
    O'er days that have so swiftly flown,
  Remember me--remember me,
  My latest thought will be for thee.

  The tale which to _thee_ I've confest
    Another ne'er shall hear again;
  Nor love, that link'd me with the blest,
    Be darken'd with an earthly chain.
  No, as the scroll above the dead,
    The dreams of parted joys will last;
  There is a bliss now love has fled,
    To trace this record of the past.
  Then, oh! mid all remember me--
  My latest thought will be for thee.

  Life hath been as a cloudy day,
    Yet still it hath not _all_ been gloom,
  For many a wild and broken ray
    Hath cheer'd awhile my spirit's doom;
  As flow'rets on a river's rim,
    Whose shadows deck each passing wave,
  Thought lingers on, perturb'd and dim,
    Or sunbeam resting on a grave.
  Remember me--remember me--
  My latest thought will be for thee.

  Where'er my feet may wander now,
    No more awakes the slightest care;
  It matters not--for still wilt thou
    Be present 'mid my heart's despair.
  So springs and blooms, in lonely state,
    Some flow'ret on a roofless cot,
  And decks with smiles, though desolate,
    The gloomy stillness of the spot.
  Remember me--remember me--
  My latest thought will be for thee.

  Though calm the eye, and still the tongue,
    It needs not that the cheek be pale
  To prove the heart by feelings wrung,
    And brooding o'er a hopeless tale;
  For calm is oft the ocean's breast,
    Though 'neath its deep blue waters lie
  A thousand wrecks--so sorrows rest
    In still and silent misery.
  Remember me--remember me--
  My latest thought will be for thee.

H.P.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE COURSE OF LOVE.

(_For the Mirror._)


  Go, trace the forest maze,
    Or Cretan lab'rinth solve,
  On Nature's myst'ries gaze,
    Or Gordian knot resolve.

  Tell whence the magnet's force,
    The central motive scan,
  Lay bare Nile's hidden source,
    Earth's vast circumference span.

  Results from such detail
    Skill superhuman prove:
  Yet powers like these would fail
    To tell the course of love.

  Direct the impulse fierce
    Of ocean's watery sway;
  When wint'ry tempests pierce,
    Bind Boreas to obey.

  Go, mould the fleeting cloud,
    The lucid dew-drop mix,
  The solar radiance shroud,
    The trembling moonbeam fix.

  Then bid the wand'ring star
    Within the zodiac move;
  'Twere task more hard by far
    To guide the course of love.

  Stop the meridian flight
    Of Jove's proud plumy race;
  Arrest the fiercest fight
    When foe-men battle face.

  Forbid the earth to turn.
    Forbid the tides to flow,
  Forbid the sun to burn,
    Forbid the winds to blow.

  Bid the fix'd orb of day.
    Beyond his sphere to move,
  Or cease th' attempt, I pray,
    To stop the course of love.

T.F.

       *       *       *       *       *


I'LL BE AT YOUR BALL

(_For the Mirror._)

    Ah! ce n'est pas moi qui romprait la première l'union sacrée de nos
    coeurs; vous le savez bien que ce n'est pas moi, et je rougirais
    presque, d'assurer ce qui n'est que trop certain.--_Corinne, par_
    MADAME DE STAEL.


  I'll be at your ball--dear Eliza,
    Could you doubt of my wish to be there,
  When ask'd by the maiden I prize a-
    Bove all maidens, though e'er so fair?
  Busy fancy brings back in my dreams
    The walks, still enchanting, we took,
  When the zephyrs scarce ruffled the streams,
    No sound heard, save the murm'ring brook;
  The stars we together have watched--
    What pleasure these thoughts do recall!
  Believe that your truly attached,
    Dear Eliza, will be at your ball.

  Can study those feelings estrange,
    Of affection so ardent and true?
  Or absence or time ever change
    A heart so devoted to you?
  My voice may have altered its tone,
    My brow may be furrow'd by care,
  But, oh, dearest girl, there are none
    Possess of my heart the least share.
  You say that my hair is neglected,
    That my dress don't become me at all;
  Can you feel surprised I'm dejected,
    Since I parted from you at your ball?

  I listlessly turn o'er the pages.
    So fraught with amusement before
  Tasso, Dante, and even the sages,
    Once pleasing, are pleasing no more.
  When I walk on the banks of the Mole,
    Or recline 'neath our favourite tree,
  As the needle is true to the pole,
    So my thoughts still concentre in thee.
  Old Time moves so slow, he appears,
    "With age quite decrepit," to crawl;
  And days seem now lengthen'd to years,
    Before we shall meet--at your ball.

DAFT JAMIE.

       *       *       *       *       *



RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.

       *       *       *       *       *

(_To the Editor of the Mirror._)

    Having occasionally (during my lucubrations) marked out sundry
    choice excerpts, quips, and quiddities, from a variety of authors, I
    shall, with your permission, submit to the reader an occasional
    chapter, with a few original remarks, &c., which I hope will prove
    agreeable.

    JACOBUS.


POSTURE MASTERS.


It is now a-days extremely common to style the tumble-down-dick exploits or
posture masters, balancers, conjurers, &c. an art. To ridicule such an
abuse of the term by applying it to mere adroitness, skill in trifles, and
labour-in-vain performances, Quinctilian gives us this merry
instance--"Qualis illius fuit, qui grana ciceris ex spatio distante missa,
in acum continue, et sine frustratione inserebat; quem cum spectasset
Alexander, donasse eum dicitur leguminis modio--quod quidem praemium fuit
illo opere dignissimum." Translation--Of this kind of art, was his, who,
standing at a certain distance, could continually, without missing, stick a
small pea upon the point of a needle; which when Alexander had witnessed,
he ordered him a bushel of that grain for his trouble, a reward quite
adequate to such an exploit. We have a similar story related, I think, of
Charles II.: a posture master climbed up Grantham steeple, and then stood
on his head upon the weathercock. The facetious monarch, after witnessing
his ascent, told him he might forthwith have a patent that none should do
the like but himself.

       *       *       *       *       *


TO MAKE BUBBLE AND SQUEAK.

_Published by request of the gentlemen of both Universities._


First--Take of beef, or mutton, or lamb, or veal, or any other meat, two
pounds and a half, or any other quantity; be sure to keep it in salt till
the saline particles have locked up all the animal juices, and rendered
the fibres hard of digestion; then boil it over a turf or peat fire, in a
brass kettle, covered with a copper lid, until it is over much done.

Second--Take a large turned cabbage, and boil it in a bell metal pot until
it is done enough, or (if you think proper) too much.

Thirdly--Slice the meat, and souse that and the cabbage both in a frying
pan together, and let them bubble and squeak over a charcoal fire for half
an hour, three minutes, and two seconds.

Lastly--Devour the whole, which will not weigh more than _four_ pounds, for
a quantum sufficit; drink six pints of good, fat ale; sit, smoke, sleep,
snore, and forget your book.

       *       *       *       *       *


ADVERTISEMENT.

_In defence of the two Universities._


We can assure the public that the malicious report of the Greek language
being expelled from the abovenamed seats of Minerva, is entirely without
foundation; there being, at this moment, many thousand volumes written in
that tongue, actually extant, and quite unmolested in the several
libraries.

       *       *       *       *       *


HONEST PREJUDICES,

_Or bona fide extracts from celebrated authors._


Before the conquest of this country by the Normans, the land in Norfolk was
so light and fine, that the farmers usually plowed with two rabbits and a
case knife!--_Jones's Wonderful Changes_, p. 86.--Weep at this ye who are
now racking your inventive powers for improvements in agricultural
implements. See what your forefathers could accomplish by means the
simplest.--_Risum teneatis?_

       *       *       *       *       *


There are many stories told of the craft of the fox to compass his prey, of
which Ol. Magnus hath many: such as feigning the bark of a dog to catch
prey near the houses; feigning himself dead to catch such animals as come
to feed upon him; laying his tail upon a wasp's nest and then rubbing it
hard against a tree, thus catching the wasps so killed; ridding himself of
fleas by gradually going into the water with a lock of wool in his mouth,
and so driving the fleas up into it and then leaving it in the water; by
catching crab fish with his tail, which he saith he himself was a witness
of.--_Derham's Physico-Theology_, book iv. chap. 11., and _Ol. Mag. Hist._
lib. xviii. cap. 39, 40.--Peruse this ye incredulous lectors of Baron
Munch-Hausen, and Colonel Nimrod. Talk no more of the fertile genius of our
Yankee brethren, but candidly admit ye are blameworthy for withholding
credence to matters which rather border on the marvellous.

       *       *       *       *       *


Had man been a dwarf he could not have been a rational creature; for he
must then have had a jolt head, so there would not have been body and blood
enough to supply his brain with spirits, or he must have had a small head
answerable to his body, and so there would not have been brain enough for
his business.--_Grew's Cosmol. Sacr._ book i. chap. v.

Had the calf of the leg been providentially and prominently placed
_before_, instead of being preposterously and prejudicially placed
_behind_, it had been evidently better; forasmuch as the human shin-bone
could not then have been so easily broken,--_Dr. Moreton's Beauty of the
Human Structure_, page 62.--What a pity it is that these two learned and
self-sufficient authors, were not consulted in the formation of their own
persons: doubtless they could have suggested many improvements, and would
have felt all the advantages with due effect--probably they might have
liked their heads to screw on and off like Saint Denis, of France, who
frequently carried his under his arm.

       *       *       *       *       *


The City of London is the largest city in the world, and the people of
London the wisest--_Wilson's Candid Traveller_, page 42.--Mark this, ye who
are levelling your _leaden_ wit at the worthy aldermen and cits of this
"large" and "wise" metropolis.

       *       *       *       *       *


At the famous battle of Crescy, gained by Edward III., notwithstanding a
vast carnage of the French, and an infinite number of prisoners, the
English lost only one 'squire, three knights, and a few of inferior
rank.--_History of England, by Goldsmith._

At the battle of Agincourt, gained by Henry V. the French lost ten thousand
men, and fourteen thousand prisoners; the English (although enfeebled by
disease, destitute of provisions, and harassed by fatigue) lost only forty
men in all--Ibid.--Hear these facts of ancient prowess, ye heroes of modern
times; who among ye ever gained such signal advantages with losses so
insignificant?--In good truth, I must admit, that even I was once inclined
to cry out with Mr. Burchell, "fudge;" but the following morceaux have
explained to me the (otherwise) mysterious relation:--

_One_ Englishman can beat _five_ Frenchmen.--_Williamson's Serious
Propositions_, page 78.--One English man-of-war, will beat a Dutch
fleet--_Nebolt's Naval Expeditions_, chap. iv. section 9.--Indeed! what a
scandalous shame it is then to call Admiral Blake a naval hero; surely he
could have been but a mere botch to make such a tough job of cutting up Van
Tromp, the Dutch commander.

       *       *       *       *       *


Though I have examined what all other authors have written on this affair
with great impartiality, yet I cannot conceive that any of them have the
least merit; nor do I find one man that has treated this subject sensibly,
besides myself.--_Smithson's Amiableness of Candour and Diffidence_, page
8.--What modesty! what candour! amiable critic! doubtless your ingenuous
style has obtained you a place on the shelves of the literati; and like
Ovid and Horace you have secured as well as assigned yourself an
immortality.

       *       *       *       *       *



SELECT BIOGRAPHY.

       *       *       *       *       *


MEMOIR OF BOLIVAR.


The conspicuous part which Bolivar has acted throughout the revolution in
Colombia, and at the close of that in Peru, renders it imperative on us to
give some account of a character, identified with so many great and
extraordinary events.

Simon Bolivar was born at Caracas on the 25th of July, 1783. He lost his
parents at an early age; and, in his sixteenth year, was sent to Europe to
finish his education. He made the tour of France and Italy. Having married
at Madrid, he embarked for Venezuela, where his wife died a few months
after her arrival. Bolivar went a second time to Europe, and was present at
the coronation of Napoleon. He returned to Caracas in company with Emparan,
appointed captain-general of Venezuela by the central junta at Seville.
Soon after the raising of the standard of independence (19th April, 1810)
in that country, he was sent to solicit the protection of Great Britain. He
was well received by the Marquess Wellesley, then secretary for Foreign
Affairs. The British government offered its mediation between Spain and her
colonies, but the offer was rejected by the court of Madrid. Bolivar
returned to his own country, accompanied by General Miranda, who was placed
in command of the Venezuelan troops. But the revolutionary government was
too feebly organized to give efficiency to the military force. Divisions
arose, and the cause of independence was on the retrograde, when the
dreadful earthquake of 1812, and the subsequent invasion by the Spanish
force under General Monteverde, for the time, precluded all possibility of
success.

Bolivar, alleging that Miranda had betrayed his country by capitulating to
Monteverde, arrested him at La Guayra. Bolivar then demanded his passport,
and when taken before Monteverde, the Spanish general said that Colonel
Bolivar's request should be complied with, as a reward for his having
served the king of Spain by delivering up Miranda. Bolivar answered that he
arrested him to punish a traitor[2] to his country, and not to serve the
king. This answer had nearly included him in the general proscription; but
the good offices of Don Francisco Iturbe, secretary to Monteverde, procured
the passport, and Bolivar was allowed to sail for Curaçoa. From that island
he went to Carthagena, where he obtained the command of a small force, with
which he proceeded up the Magdalena, and having beaten parties of the
royalist troops at various points on that river, he continued his march
from Ocana to Cucutá, and solicited assistance from the government of
Cundinamarca. Five hundred men were placed at his disposal, and with these,
added to his own small party, Bolivar undertook to effect the liberation of
his country. Four thousand Spaniards, under General Correa, were then on
that part of the Venezuelan frontier. A division of these was beaten by
Bolivar, who pursued his march to Truxillo, defeating on the way several
royalist detachments.

   [2] Bolivar seems to have been hurried into a dreadful error by the
       warmth of his feelings. Not only is the _expediency_ of the
       capitulation admitted by eye witnesses of the first
       respectability, but also that Miranda had no other alternative.
       The rich and influential inhabitants withheld their support, not
       that their political sentiments had undergone a change but
       because they saw the useless of sacrificing property and life in
       a wild attempt to stem the stream of public opinion; the bulk of
       the people having become decidedly royalist in principle ever
       since that earthquake, which had been represented by the
       priesthood as a judgement of Heaven upon the insurgent cause.

The Spaniards from the commencement of the war, had put to death all
persons whom they found with arms in their hands. The South Americans, on
the contrary, gave quarter to those royalists who fell into their power.
The natives consequently preferred entering the royalist ranks, feeling
secure that, in case of being made prisoners, their lives would be spared.
Bolivar, perceiving the great disadvantage under which he laboured, and as
a retaliation for the horrid butcheries committed by the Spaniards, issued
a proclamation at Truxillo, declaring, that from that time forward he
should wage a war of extermination. This declaration of _guerra à muerte_
on the part of the independents made the danger, in that respect, equal on
both sides.

Bolivar, having separated his small corps into two divisions, entrusted the
command of the second to the active General Rivas. Bolivar himself
penetrated the Llanos, after having beaten the Spaniards at Niquitao,
Carache, Varinas, Tahuana, and Torcones. He then advanced to Vitoria,
within twenty leagues of Caracas, where he was met by Spanish
commissioners, who sued for, and obtained, a capitulation. The conqueror
entered his native city in triumph. But this did not put an end to the war.
The Spaniards were faithless in the observance of the capitulation, and
Monteverde, from within the walls of Puerto Cabello, fomented the discord
which prevailed in the interior provinces. About this time a strong
reinforcement arrived from Spain. Bolivar was obliged to evacuate Caracas;
but the royalists were beaten at Viguirima, Barbula, and Las Trincheras.
However, the Spanish general Cevallos had time to raise four thousand
recruits in the province of Coro, which had always shown itself inimical to
the cause of independence. Bolivar next gained the important battle of
Araure, and repossessed himself of Caracas. On the 2nd of January, 1814, he
assembled the public authorities of the city, and resigned to them the
supreme authority he had exercised, and with which his triumphs had
invested him. They, however, refused to admit his resignation; conferred
upon him the title of LIBERATOR OF VENEZUELA; and named him dictator.

About this period a Spaniard, Don José Tomas Boves, succeeded in bringing
about a counter-revolution in the Llanos, an immense tract of level
country, which traverses the centre of Venezuela, and extends to the
confines of New Granada. Boves organized a force, which consisted of men
mostly chosen for their desperate character, whom he led on by promises of
indiscriminate plunder, and by lavishing the greatest rewards upon the
perpetrators of the most revolting atrocities. The track of these ruffians,
to Calabozo, was every where marked with the blood of the aged and the
defenceless. Bolivar, who had detached a part of his force in pursuit of
Cevallos, had not above two thousand men left to make head against Boves,
who, with nearly five times that number, had possessed himself of the
fertile valleys of Aragua, and destroyed some patriot divisions sent to
check his progress. Bolivar took up a position at San Mateo, in order to
cover Caracas. A series of attacks, in the space of forty days, reduced the
number of Bolivar's force to four hundred. Cevallos had repaired the
effects of his defeat at Araure, and, reinforced by General Cagigal, had
penetrated to Valencia. The patriot division of the east having defeated
Boves at Bocachica, and compelled him to retire to the Llanos, and having
subsequently united with the remains of Bolivar's force, marched against
Cagigal and Cevallos, whose well-organized troops amounted to six thousand.
These were attacked and defeated by Bolivar, who then detached the greater
part of his force to reduce the province of Coro to submission, and himself
marched against Boves. Bolivar was overwhelmed by numbers at La Puerta. His
division dispersed, and fled to Cundinamarca. He was then obliged to
abandon Caracas. The same day witnessed the affecting spectacle of several
thousand inhabitants leaving their homes and property at the mercy of the
ruthless spoiler, while they themselves set out to face want, disease, and
death, in distant provinces.

On the 17th of August, Bolivar lost the battle of Aragua. The subsequent
affairs of Maturin, Cumaná, Carupano, Guiria, Urica, and El Caris, were
fought, with varying success. All being lost in the east, Bolivar next
proceeded to Carthagena, and offered his services to New Granada, then
agitated by discordant parties of provincialists, centralists,
metropolists, federalists, royalists, and independents. A congress
assembled at Tunja conferred upon Bolivar the command of the forces of New
Granada. Santa Fé de Bogotá submitted, the provinces acknowledged the
congress, and an effort was made to establish a constitutional form of
government.

Bolivar having proposed to take the town of Santa Marta, still held by the
Spaniards, he was authorized by the government of Santa Fé to procure guns,
&c., from the arsenals of Carthagena. The governor of that fortress refused
to furnish the necessary supplies. In order to enforce compliance, Bolivar
invested Carthagena, before which he remained a considerable time, when he
heard of the arrival at Margarita of General Morillo, with ten thousand
Spanish troops. Upon this, Bolivar placed his own investing force at the
disposal of his rival, the governor of Carthagena; and, unwilling that the
cause of his country should continue to suffer from the dissention which
had arisen between himself and the governor, withdrew to Jamaica. Morillo,
soon afterwards, laid siege to Carthagena, which, unfortunately, in
consequence of the long investment it had already sustained, was nearly
destitute of provisions, Bolivar sent from Jamaica some supplies for the
besieged garrison; but before they could arrive, that important fortress
was in possession of the Spaniards. This enabled them to reconquer New
Granada, and the blood of its citizens was made to stream from the
scaffold.

At Kingston, Bolivar narrowly escaped assassination. The casual
circumstance of exchanging apartments with another person, caused the
murderer's dagger to be planted in the heart of a faithful follower,
instead of in that of Bolivar. The author of these memoirs happened to
live, for a few days, in the same boarding-house. Some officers of a
British line-of-battle ship, not speaking Spanish, requested him to invite
Bolivar, in their name, to dine with them. This was only a few weeks
previous to the intended assassination of Bolivar.

From Jamaica, Bolivar went to Hayti, and was received at Port-au-Prince by
Petion with kind hospitality, and was assisted by him as far as his means
would allow.

In April, 1816, he sailed with three hundred men to Margarita, which island
had lately again shaken off the Spanish yoke. He arrived at Juan Griego,
where he was proclaimed supreme chief of the republic. On the 1st of June
he sailed, and on the 3rd landed at Campano, where he beat nine hundred
Spaniards. He then opened a communication with patriot chieftains, who had
maintained themselves in isolated parties dispersed over the _llanos_ of
Cumaná, Barcelona, and the Apure. It is a curious fact, that the isolation
of several of these parties was so complete, that, for many months, they
did not know of any other than themselves being in arms for the delivery of
their country. It was only by their coming into accidental contact that
they discovered that there was more than one patriot guerilla in
existence.[3] Bolivar supplied some of them with arms, and at the same time
augmented his own force to a thousand men. The Spaniards assembled in
superior numbers to destroy them; but Bolivar embarked, and relanded at
Ocumare, with an intention of taking Caracas: great part, however, of the
Spanish army having by this time returned from New Granada to Venezuela,
Bolivar was obliged to re-embark for Margarita.

    [3] For the honour of the _llaneros_, this circumstance ought to be
        more distinctly detailed.

In 1817, he landed near Barcelona, where he collected seven hundred
recruits, and marched towards Caracas; but, being worsted in an affair at
Clarines, he fell back again upon Barcelona, where he shut himself up with
four hundred men, and made a successful resistance against a superior
force.

Bolivar received some reinforcements from the interior of the province of
Cumaná, upon which he decided upon making the banks of the Orinoco the
theatre of his future efforts. Having further augmented his force, and
taken the necessary steps to keep alive the war in the districts on the
coast, he marched to the interior, beating several small royalist parties
which he encountered on his route.

Of the Spanish army which had returned from New Granada, a division, under
the brave General La Torre, was destined to act against the patriots in
Guayana. A division of the latter, under General Piar, having obtained a
decisive victory, Bolivar was enabled to invest Angostura, and the town of
old Guyana, which were successively taken on the 3rd and 18th of July.

In Angostura, Piar was found guilty, by a court-martial, of an attempt to
excite a war of colour. Piar (a man of colour himself) was the bravest of
the brave, and adored by his followers; but his execution stifled anarchy
in the bud.

The rest of the year 1817 was actively spent in organizing a force to act
against Morillo, who had lately been reinforced by two thousand fresh
troops from the Peninsula, under General Canterac, then on his way from
Spain to Peru. An abundant supply of arms, received from England, was sent
to the patriot corps on the banks of the Apure.

(_To be continued._)

       *       *       *       *       *


LEDYARD TO HIS MISTRESS.

(_For the Mirror._)


  Dost wish to roam in foreign climes
  Forget thy home and long past times?
  Dost wish to be a wand'rer's bride,
  And all thy thoughts in him confide?
  Thou canst not traverse mountain seas,
  Nor bear cold Lapland's freezing breeze;
  Thou canst not bear the torrid heats,
  Nor brave the toils a wand'rer meets;
  Thou wouldst faint, dearest, with fatigue
  Trav'ling the desert's sandy league.

  Pale hunger with her sickly pains
  Will silence thy heroic strains;
  Thy heart--now warmly beats--will chill
  And stop thy lover's wonted skill.
  He could not see thee pine and weep
  Nor could he ease thy troubled sleep--
  'Twould quite unman his firm resolve,
  And with grief thy love involve.

TERRENUS.

       *       *       *       *       *



ROMAN ALTAR.

(_To the Editor of the Mirror._)


Enclosed I send you a drawing of a Roman votive altar, which was found in
digging a cellar about six feet deep, in St. Sepulchre's Gate, Doncaster,
in the year 1781. It is the oldest relic of antiquity which Doncaster has
yet produced, and is of exquisite engraving and workmanship. Upon the
capital, or top of the stone, a small space above the sculpture of the
altar itself, is a crater or flowing bowl,[4] sacred to Bacchus, the god of
wine; on the dexter, or right side of the altar, is a flower-pot, or
cornucopiæ, with five branches in it, loaded with leaves and fruit, sacred
to Ceres, or Terra-Mater, the goddess of plants; and on the sinister, or
left side thereof, is a large jug or pitcher with a large handle, also
sacred to Bacchus. It is about 2 feet 6-1/2 inches in height, and 1 foot in
breadth at the base. The corporation employed a Mr. Richard John Tetlow, of
Ferrybridge, a celebrated antiquary, to interpret the inscription, and give
them his opinion on its age. They also sent it to the Antiquarian Society
in London for inspection.

    [4] If not a flowing bowl, then it is the shield of Diana.

_Interpretation of the Society._

Matribus magnis,[5] Nantonius[6] Orberthol, vota solvit lubens merito.

    [5] Juno and Diana.

    [6] For Antoninus, in the year of Christ 161. Antoninus Philosophus
        was the Roman emperor, and succeeded Antoninus Pius, according to
        Dr. Littleton.

_Translation._

To the great mothers, (goddesses,) Anthony Orberthol willingly and
meritoriously has performed his vows or promises.

_Interpretation of Mr. Tetlow._

Lunæ, Latonæ, Lucinæ, Matribus magnis Antonius Orbis Romani Imperator Bonis
Oeis Altare. vota. solvit. lubens merito.

_Translation._

To Luna, Latona, Lucina, the great good mothers, goddesses, Anthony, the
emperor of the Roman empire, hath erected, or dedicated, this altar. Freely
and fully he has discharged his vows and promises.

It is, reasonably enough, conjectured from several corroborative
circumstances, that the altar above described is no less than 1,645 years
old. One of these circumstances is its being similar in some respects to
two other Roman altars which were found in England some years back, one of
which is related to have been made in the year of Christ 161.

_Near Sheffield._ J.M. C----D.

       *       *       *       *       *



NOTES OF A READER.

       *       *       *       *       *


SUNSET.


  Day sets in glory, and the glowing air
    Seems dreaming in delight; peace reigns around,
  Save where some beetle starteth here and there
    From the shut flowers that kiss the dewy ground--
  A burning ocean, stretching vast and far
    The parting banners of the king of light,
  Gleam round the temples of each living star
    That comes forth in beauty with the night:
  The west seems now like some illumined hall,
    Where beam a thousand torches in their pride,
  As if to light the joyous carnival
    Held by the bright sun and his dark-robed bride,
  Whose cloudy arms are round his bosom press'd,
  As with her thousand eyes she woos him to his rest.

_The African, a Tale._

       *       *       *       *       *


BEES.


Alternations of torpor and animation cause greater exhaustion and loss of
physical powers, than would be occasioned by a continuance of uniform
torpor. This we infer from the fact, that in Russia, where the winters are
uniformly cold, bees do not perish; and in the West Indies where there is
perpetual verdure, they are never exhausted.

       *       *       *       *       *


Major Rennell--_clarum et venerabile nomen_--now in his 87th year,
possesses in full vigour, for the happiness of himself and friends, all
those intellectual faculties which have so eminently distinguished his long
and useful life; who, suffering little short of martyrdom, from the
frequent attacks of gout, still devotes hours and days to his favourite
pursuit; uniting with his studies all the playfulness and vivacity of
youth.

_Quarterly Review._

       *       *       *       *       *


WAR.


War! what miseries are heaped together in the sound!--What an accumulation
of curses is breathed in that one word. To us, happy in our insular
position, we have, within existing memory, known chiefly of war, its pomp
and circumstance alone; the gay parade, the glancing arms, the bright
colours, the inspiring music--these are what we see of war in its
outset;--glory, and praise, and badges of honour, these are what appear to
us as its result. The favourite son, the beloved brother, he who, perhaps,
is dearer still, returns to the home of his youth or of his heart, having
sown danger and reaped renown. Thus do we look on war. But ask the
inhabitant of a country _which has been the seat of war_, what is _his_
opinion of it. He will tell you that he has seen his country ravaged, his
home violated, his family ---- But no! the tongue recoils from speaking the
horrors and atrocities of war thus brought into the bosom of a peaceful
home. All the amenities and charities of domestic life are outraged, are
annihilated. All that is dearest to man; all that tends to refine, to
soften him--to make him a noble and a better being--all these are trampled
under foot by a brutal soldiery--all these are torn from his heart for
ever! He will tell you that he detests war so much that he almost despises
its glories; and that he detests it because he has known its evils, and
felt how poorly and miserably they are compensated by the fame which is
given to the slaughterer and the destroyer, because he is such!

_Tales of Passion._

       *       *       *       *       *


THE NEWSPAPERS.


These square pieces of paper are the Agoras of modern life. The same
skilful division of labour which brings the fowl ready trussed to our doors
from the market, brings also an abstract of the

               Votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus,

which agitate the great metropolis, and even opinions, ready prepared, to
the breakfast tables of our remotest farms, ere the controversial warmth
has had time to cool. In the centre of this square, where you observe the
larger character, a public orator, "vias et verba locans," takes his daily
stand. One makes his speech in the morning, and another reserves his for
the evening; a third class, either disposed to take less trouble, or,
finding it convenient to construct their speeches from fragments of the
daily orations, harangue once in two or three days; while a fourth waylay
the people in their road to visit the temples on our hebdomadal festivals.
But cast your eyes to another part of these our artificial forums, and
observe the number of small divisions which fill up the space. There are
stalls of merchandize. The ancient venders must have been noisy, and a
frequent cause of annoyance to political speakers; but here the hawkers of
wet and dry goods, the hawkers of medicine, the hawkers of personal
services, the hawkers of husbands and wives, (for among us these articles
are often cried up for sale,) and lastly, the hawkers of religions, moral,
and political wisdom, all cry out at once, without tumult or confusion, yet
so as to be heard in these days through the remotest corners of these
islands.... If a peculiarly bloody murder has been tried, or if some
domestic intrigue has produced a complicated love story, however offensive
in its details, you will find our reading crowd stationary in that quarter,
to enjoy the tragic stimulants of terror and pity. We have also a modest
corner of the square appropriated to the use of our posts; but like
Polydorus's ghost, they generally utter doleful soliloquies, which no one
will stop to hear.

_London Review._

       *       *       *       *       *


BEAUTY.


It is vain to dispute about the matter; moralists may moralize, preachers
may sermonize about it as much as they please; still beauty is a most
delightful thing,--and a really lovely woman a most enchanting object to
gaze on. I am aware of all that can be said about roses fading, and cheeks
withering, and lips growing thin and pale. No one, indeed, need be ignorant
of every change which can be rung upon this peal of bells, for every one
must have heard them in every possible, and impossible, variety of
combination. Give time, and complexion will decay, and lips and cheeks will
shrink and grow wrinkled, sure enough. But it is needless to anticipate the
work of years, or to give credit to old Time for his conquests before he
has won them. The edge of his scythe does more execution than that of the
conqueror's sword: we need not add the work of fancy to _his_,--it is more
than sufficiently sure and rapid already.

_Tales of Passion._

       *       *       *       *       *


PRE-AUX-CLERCS.


In 1559, the most frequented promenade in Paris was the _Pré-aux-Clercs_,
situated where a part of the Faubourg St. Germain is at present. The
students of the university were generally in favour of the reformed
religion, and not only made a profession of it, but publicly defended its
principles. They had been in the habit of meeting at this place for several
years, and the monks of the Abbey St. Victor having refused to let them
assemble in the Pré-aux-Clercs, a serious affair sprung out of the refusal,
and several rencounters took place, in which blood was shed; the students,
being the most numerous, carried their point, the monks resigned the field
to them, and the Pré-aux-Clercs was more than ever frequented. It became
the grand rendezvous of all the Protestants, who would sing Marot's psalms
during the summer evenings; and such numbers giving confidence, many
persons declared themselves Protestants, whose rank had hitherto deterred
them from such a step. Among such, the most eminent was Anthony of Bourbon,
first prince of the blood, and, in right of his wife, king of Navarre.

_Browning's History of the Hugonots._

       *       *       *       *       *


LOVE.


When she learned the vocabulary, she did not find that admiration meant
love; she did not find that gratitude meant love; she did not find that
habit meant love; she did not find that approbation meant love; but in
process of time she began to suspect that all these put together produced a
feeling very much like love.

_Rank and Talent._

       *       *       *       *       *


HUGONOTS.


Various definitions of this epithet exist. Pasquier says it arose from
their assembling at Hugon's Tower, at Tours; he also mentions, that in 1540
he heard them called _Tourangeaux_. Some have attributed the term to the
commencement of their petitions, "_Huc nos venimus._" A more probable
reason is to be found in the name of a party at Geneva, called _Eignots_, a
term derived from the German, and signifying a sworn confederate. Voltaire
and the Jesuit Maimbourg are both of this opinion.

_Browning's History of the Hugonots._

       *       *       *       *       *


A ROUT.


A great, large, noisy, tumultuous, promiscuous, crowding, crushing,
perfumed, feathered, flowered, painted, gabbling, sneering, idle,
gossiping, rest-breaking, horse-killing, panel-breaking, supper-scrambling
evening-party is much better imagined than described, for the description
is not worth the time of writing or reading it.

_Rank and Talent._

       *       *       *       *       *


PLEASURE.


  We are mad gamesters in this world below,
  All hopes on one uncertain die to throw;
  How vain is man's pursuit, with passion blind,
  To follow that which leaves us still behind!
  Go! clasp the shadow, make it all thine own,
  Place on the flying breeze thine airy throne;
  Weave the thin sunbeams of the morning sky;
  Catch the light April clouds before they fly;
  Chase the bright sun unto the fading west,
  And wake him early from his golden rest;
  Seeking th' impossible, let life be past,
  But never dream of pleasure that shall last.

_The Ruined City._

       *       *       *       *       *


GERMAN LIFE.


One day (says a late adventurer,) that I was quartered in a farm-house,
along with some of our German dragoons, the owner came to complain to me
that the soldiers had been killing his fowls, and pointed out one man in
particular as the principal offender. The fact being brought home to the
dragoon, he excused himself by saying, "One shiken come frighten my horse,
and I give him one kick, and he die." "Oh, but," said I, "the _patron_
contends that you killed more than one fowl." "Oh yes; that shiken moder
see me kick that shiken, so she come fly in my face, and I give her one
kick, and she die." Of course I reported the culprit to his officer, by
whom he was punished as a notorious offender.

_Twelve Years' Military Adventures._

       *       *       *       *       *


THE HEIR.


Persons who are very rich, and have no legal heirs, may entertain
themselves very much at the expense of hungry expectants and lean
legacy-hunters. Who has not seen a poor dog standing on his hind legs, and
bobbing up and down after a bone scarcely worth picking, with which some
mischief-loving varlet has tantalized the poor animal till all its limbs
have ached? That poor dog shadows out the legacy-hunter or possible heir.

_Rank and Talent._

       *       *       *       *       *


The author of "_The Journal of a Naturalist_," just published, relates the
following incident that occurred a few years past at a lime-kiln, (on the
old Bristol Road) because it manifests how perfectly insensible the human
frame may be to pains and afflictions in peculiar circumstances; and that
which would be torture if endured in general, may be experienced at other
times without any sense of suffering. A travelling man one winter's evening
laid himself down upon the platform of a lime-kiln, placing his feet,
probably numbed with cold, upon the heap of stones newly put on to burn
through the night. Sleep overcame him in this situation; the fire gradually
rising and increasing until it ignited the stones upon which his feet were
placed. Lulled by the warmth, he still slept; and though the fire
increased until it burned one foot (which probably was extended over a vent
hole) and part of the leg, above the ankle, entirely off, consuming that
part so effectually, that no fragment of it was ever discovered; the
wretched being slept on! and in this state was found by the kiln-man in the
morning. Insensible to any pain, and ignorant of his misfortune, he
attempted to rise and pursue his journey, but missing his shoe, requested
to have it found; and when he was raised, putting his burnt limb to the
ground to support his body, the extremity of his leg-bone, the tibia,
crumbled into fragments, having been calcined into lime. Still he expressed
no sense of pain, and probably experienced none, from the gradual operation
of the fire and his own torpidity during the hours his foot was consuming.
This poor drover survived his misfortunes in the hospital about a
fortnight; but the fire having extended to other parts of his body,
recovery was hopeless.

       *       *       *       *       *


GAMING.


Gambling, the besetting sin of the indolent in many countries, is ruinously
general throughout South America. In England, and other European states, it
is pretty much limited to the unemployed of the upper classes, who furnish
a never-ending supply of dupes to knavery. In South America the passion
taints all ages, both sexes, and every rank. The dregs of society yield to
the fascination as blindly as the high-born and wealthy of the old or of
the new world. It speaks much in favour of the revolution, that this vice
is sensibly diminishing in Peru, and to the unfortunate Monteagudo belongs
the honour of having been the first to attempt its eradication. A noted
gambler was once as much an object of admiration in South America as a
six-bottle man was in England fifty years ago. The houses of the great were
converted into nightly hells, where the priesthood were amongst the most
regular and adventurous attendants. Those places are now more innocently
enlivened by music and dancing. Buena Vista, a seat of the late Marquess of
Montemira, six leagues from Lima, was the Sunday rendezvous of every
fashionable of the capital who had a few doubloons to risk on the turn of a
card. On one occasion, a fortunate player, the celebrated Baquijano, was
under the necessity of sending for a bullock car to convey his winnings,
amounting to above thirty thousand dollars: a mule thus laden with specie
was a common occurrence. Chorillos, a fishing town, three leagues south of
Lima, is a fashionable watering place for a limited season. Here immense
sums are won and lost; but political and literary coteries, formerly
unknown, daily lessen the numbers of the votaries of fortune.

So strong was this ruling passion, that when the patriot army has been
closely pursued by the royalists, and pay has been issued to lighten the
military chest, the officers, upon halting, would spread their ponchos on
the ground, and play until it was time to resume the march; and this was
frequently done even on the eve of a battle. Soldiers on piquet often
gambled within sight of an enemy's advanced post.

_Memoirs of Gen. Miller._

       *       *       *       *       *



THE NATURALIST.

       *       *       *       *       *


VOLCANIC ISLAND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER.


This island is entirely composed of volcanic matter, in some places
alternating with submarine productions. The principal mountain is situated
at the western end of the island; it is an exhausted volcano, called in
books of navigation, charts, &c., Mount Misery. The summit of this mountain
is 3,711 feet above the sea; it appears to consist of large masses of
volcanic rocks, roasted stones, cinders, pumice, and iron-clay. The whole
extent of land, to the sea-shore on either side, may be considered as the
base of this mountain, as it rises with a pretty steep ascent towards it;
but from the part which is generally considered the foot of the mountain,
it takes a sudden rise of an average angle of about 50 degrees. To the
east, another chain of mountains runs, of a similar formation, though of
inferior height. On the summits of these there are no remains that indicate
their having ever possessed a crater: so that whether any of them have
originally been volcanoes, or whether they have been formed by an
accumulation of matter thrown out of Mount Misery, it is difficult to
decide. That the low lands have been thrown from the mouth of the volcano
is evident, from the regular strata of volcanic substances of which they
consist; these too are interspersed with masses of volcanic rock, and other
stones, some of the lesser ones entirely roasted through, and some of the
larger ones to certain depths from their surfaces. Masses, also, of
iron-clay, enclosing various pebbles, which have been burnt into a kind of
red brick, are abundantly found in many places. There is scarcely any thing
that can be called a path, or even a track, to the mouth of the crater of
Mount Misery; indeed, there are but few whose curiosity is sufficiently
strong to induce them to undertake this expedition. The common course for
those who do, is to take a negro man as a guide, with a cutlass, or large
knife, to clear away the underwood, and form a kind of path as he goes on.
The ascent is very irregular, in some places being gentle, in others almost
perpendicular; in which case the hands are obliged to assist the operations
of the feet. In wet weather, the ascent of this mountain is extremely
laborious, as a great part of it consists of clay, which then becomes so
slippery as to render the getting up almost impracticable. About half-way
up on the south side, and in a very pretty, romantic situation, there is a
natural spring of remarkably cool water. On the north side, at about the
same height, there is a waterfall, which, though small and insignificant in
itself, has a pleasing appearance, as it rushes over the rocks, and through
the trees and shrubs. This mountain is thickly clothed with wood, which in
many places not only excludes the rays of the sun, but produces a sombre,
gloomy appearance; this, with the occasional plaintive coo of the mountain
dove, (the only sound heard at this height,) creates in the mind sensations
of pleasing melancholy. In some parts an open space suddenly appears, from
whence the whole country below bursts unexpectedly upon the view, which
has, as may be supposed, an extremely fine effect. The thermometer, on the
top of the mountain when the writer visited it, stood at 65, being a
difference of 15 degrees from the low lands, where it stood at 80 degrees.
The descent into the crater on the north and east sides is perfectly
perpendicular; on the south and west sides, it slopes at an average angle
of not more than 18 or 20 degrees from the perpendicular; consequently,
persons descending are often obliged to let themselves down by clinging to
projecting corners of rocks, or the branches and roots of shrubs, which
grow all the way down; nor is this mode of travelling particularly safe,
for should any of these give way, the consequence would probably be highly
dangerous. The bottom of the crater, which, as nearly as could be
estimated, is about 2,500 feet below the summit of the mountain, and
contains about forty-five or fifty acres, may be said to be divided into
three parts: the lowest side (to the south) consists of a large pond or
lake, formed entirely by the rain-water collected from the sides of the
crater--accordingly its extent is greater or less, as the season is wet or
dry; the centre part is covered with small ferns, palms, and shrubs, and
some curious species of moss; the upper part, to the north, is that which
is called the Soufriere. The ground here consists of large beds of
pipe-clay, in some places perfectly white, in others of a bluish or black
colour, from the presence of iron pyrites. These are intermixed with masses
and irregular beds of gray cinders and score, pumice, various kinds of
lava, lithomarge, and fuller's earth. Amidst these beds of clay there are
several hot springs, small, but boiling with much violence, and emitting
large quantities of steam. A rumbling noise is heard under the whole of
this part of the crater. The hot springs are not stationary, but suddenly
disappear, and burst up in another place. The ground in many parts is too
hot to be walked upon: a great quantity of sulphuretted hydrogen gas is
likewise emitted, which is exceedingly disagreeable to the smell; and
occasionally such a volume of it arises, as is almost suffocating, and
resembles much the smell of rotten eggs. The watches of the writer and his
companion during his visit, and every article of gold or silver about their
persons, were in a few moments turned perfectly black, from the effect of
this gas.

_Brande's Journal._

       *       *       *       *       *



MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

       *       *       *       *       *


ROYAL LIFE IN PERSIA.


The religious duties of the king of Persia require him to rise early. As he
sleeps in the interior apartments, which no male is allowed to approach,
his attendants are either females or eunuchs. After he is dressed with
their aid, he sits for an hour or two in the hall of the haram, where his
levees are conducted with the same ceremony as in his outer apartments.
Female officers arrange the crowd of his wives and slaves with the
strictest attention to the order of precedency. After hearing the reports
of the persons intrusted with the internal government of the haram, and
consulting with his principal wives, who are generally seated, the monarch
leaves the interior apartments. The moment he comes out, he is met by
officers in waiting, and proceeds to one of his private halls, where he is
immediately joined by some of his principal favourites, and enters into
familiar conversation with them: all the young princes of the blood attend
this morning levee, to pay their respects. After this is over, he calls for
breakfast. The preparing his meals is superintended by the nauzir, or chief
steward of the household. The viands are put into dishes of fine china,
with silver covers, and placed in a close tray, which is locked and sealed
by the steward. This tray is covered with a rich shawl, and carried to the
king, when the steward breaks the seal, and places the dishes before him.
Some of the infant princes are generally present, and partake in this
repast. The chief physician is invariably in attendance at every meal. His
presence is deemed necessary, the courtiers say, that he may prescribe an
instant remedy, if any thing should disagree with the monarch; but this
precaution, no doubt, owes its origin to that suspicion which is
continually haunting the minds of such as exercise despotic power. When his
public duties are performed, he usually retires to the haram, where he
sometimes indulges in a short repose. Some time before sunset he always
makes his appearance in the outer apartments, and either again attends to
public business or takes a ride. His dinner is brought between eight and
nine, with the same precautions and ceremonies as at breakfast. He eats,
like his subjects, seated upon a carpet, and the dishes are placed on a
rich embroidered cloth, spread for the occasion. Some of the former kings
used to indulge openly in drinking wine; but none of the reigning family
have yet outraged the religious feelings of their subjects by so flagrant a
violation of the laws of Mahomed. Bowls filled with sherbet, made of every
species of fruit, furnish the beverage of the royal meals; and there are
few countries where more pains are bestowed to gratify the palate with the
most delicate viands. After dinner, the king retires to the interior
apartments, where it is said that he is often amused till a late hour by
the singers and dancers of his haram. It is impossible, however, to speak
of his occupations after he passes the threshold of his inner palace. He is
there surrounded by a scene calculated, beyond all others, to debase and
degrade the human character.

The harams are governed by the strictest discipline; and this must be
necessary to preserve the peace of a community, where the arrogance of
power, the pride of birth, the ties of kindred, the intrigues of art, and
the pretensions of beauty, are in constant collision. The usual routine of
the king's life is often interrupted by urgent public affairs, and
sometimes by amusement. The reigning family has hitherto disdained those
enervating and luxurious habits which led the last Seffavean monarchs to
confine themselves to their harams. They not only attend personally to
public business, but are continually practising manly exercises, and engage
in field sports with all the ardour of a race who cherish the habits of
their Tartar ancestors. The present king is an expert marksman and an
excellent horseman; few weeks pass without his partaking in the pleasures
of the chase. The king has always a historiographer and a chief poet. The
one writes the annals of his reign; the other, who has a high rank at
court, composes odes in his praise, and, with grateful ardour, celebrates
the munificence of his patron. A giant and a dwarf were at one period of
the present reign part of the royal establishment; and it is never without
a jester, who enjoys an extraordinary latitude of speech, and, both in his
dress and manner, assumes the habit and appearance of folly. It is usual to
laugh at the witticisms of these jesters, even when they are the most
severe; and the sovereign himself respects their privilege. The tribe to
which Kerreem Khan belonged, speak a language which, from its rudeness, is
denominated "the barbarous dialect." As this prince was one day sitting in
public, he commanded his jester to go and bring him word what a dog, that
was barking very loud, wanted. The courtiers smiled at this sally of their
monarch. The jester went, and, after appearing to listen for some time with
profound attention, returned, and said, with a grave air, "Your majesty
must send one of the chief officers of your own family to report what that
gentleman says: he speaks no language except "the barbarous dialect," with
which they are familiar, but of which I do not understand one word." The
good-humoured monarch laughed heartily at this jest, and gave the wit a
present. This anecdote, to which many similar might be added, shows that
there is little difference between the office of jester at the modern court
of Persia, and that which some centuries ago existed at every court in
Europe. A resemblance even in trifling forms merits attention, as it may
lead to conclusions on the progress of knowledge and the condition of
society; and from the character of their amusements, we may perhaps judge
as correctly as from their more serious occupations, of the degree of
civilization which a people has attained. In the court there is always a
person who bears the name of "story-teller to his majesty;" and the duties
of his office require a man of no mean acquirements. Though passionately
fond of public exhibitions, the Persians have none that deserve the name of
theatrical entertainments; but though strangers to the regular drama, their
stories are often dramatic; and those whose occupation is to tell them,
sometimes display so extraordinary a skill, and such varied powers, that we
can hardly believe, while we look on their altered countenances and listen
to their changed tones, that it is the same person, who at one moment tells
a plain narrative in his natural voice, then speaks in the hoarse and angry
tone of offended authority, and next subdues the passions he has excited by
the softest sounds of feminine tenderness. The art of relating stories is
attended both with profit and reputation. Great numbers attempt it, but few
succeed.

The person whose office it is to amuse his majesty with these stories is
always in attendance. It is equally his duty to beguile the fatigue of a
long march, and to soothe the mind when disturbed by the toils of public
affairs; and his tales are artfully made to suit the disposition and
momentary humour of the monarch. Sometimes he recites a story of the genii;
at others he speaks of the warlike deeds of former sovereigns, or of the
love of some wandering prince. Often the story is of coarser materials, and
the king is entertained with low and obscene adventures. In no court is
more rigid attention paid to ceremony. Looks, words, the motions of the
body, are all regulated by the strictest forms. When the king is seated in
public, his sons, ministers, and courtiers, stand erect, with their hands
crossed, and in the exact place belonging to their rank. They watch his
looks, and a glance is a command. If he speaks to them, you hear a voice
reply, and see the lips move, but not a motion or gesture betrays that
there is animation in any other part of the frame. The monarch often speaks
in the third person: "The king is pleased," "The king commands." His
ministers usually style him "The object of the world's regard." They are as
particular in forms of speech as in other ceremonies; and superiority and
inferiority of rank, in all their gradations, are implied by the terms used
in the commonest conversations.

_Sir J. Malcolm's History of Persia._

       *       *       *       *       *



THE COSMOPOLITE.

       *       *       *       *       *


We love an occasional stroll into the environs of London--_on foot_--and
_alone_. On foot, because we hate the machinery of a coach--and alone,
because we have only our own leisure to consult, and there is no time lost
in "making up minds." On such occasions we have no set object in view, but
we determine to make "good in every thing." A book, great or small, is then
to us a great evil; and putting a map into one's pocket is about as absurd
as Peter Fin's taking Cook's Voyages on his journey to Brighton. We read
the other day of a reviewer who started from Charing Cross with a blue bag
filled with books for his criticship: he read at Camberwell, and he read at
Dulwich--he wrote in the sanded and smoke-dried parlour of the Lion, the
Lamb, or the Fox--and he wrote whilst his steak was grilling at the
_auberge_ at Dulwich--and he went home in a hackney-coach: "Lord how he
went out--Lord how he came in." Another brother talks of rambling in a
secluded village field with Gilbert White's "Natural History of Selborne,"
or the "Journal of a Naturalist," in his hand. All this is very pleasant
and mighty pretty; but it is not true; and we stake our critical character
that neither Gilbert White nor our "Naturalist" did such things, or if they
did, that they were not essential to their writings. Making notes and
comparing them with others, after a long walk, is another matter; but to
walk out into the country to read a book on natural philosophy is not
indicative of a susceptible mind. For our own part, we want no book but the
broad volume of Nature--but to derive profit as well as pleasure, we must
go out with some of the philosophy of Nature in our hearts--for walking is
like travelling, (which is only a long walk,)--"a man must carry knowledge
with him, if he would bring home knowledge." We think Mr. Hazlitt talks of
lying a whole day on Salisbury Plain as one of his greatest enjoyments, and
he is doubtless sincere. When we set out on such a walk as we are about to
take, with the reader's consent, we quote Thomson for our exordium:--

  To me be Nature's volume broad display'd;
  And to peruse its all instructive page,

  *       *       *       *       *

  My sole delight; as through the falling glooms
  Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn
  On Fancy's eagle wing excursive soar;

--and starting from our metropolis, we love to watch the ebbing of
population, the dwindling from groves of chimneys and worlds of bricks and
mortar to tricksy cottages marshalled with the plumb-line, or sprinkled
over "farmy fields" facing Macadamized roads, and collecting more dust in
one month than would have ransomed all the captive kings of history, sacred
or profane. There we love to trace the ramifications of art from the steam
and gas chimneys of the metropolis to the quiet dell, in whose seclusion
you might imagine yourself a hundred miles from town, were it not for the
hum of the great tun that is fretting and working at a distance. On the
road you enjoy scenes that are to be found in no printed book. Nay, every
sign-board is a study. Those near the town would do honour to the
President's pencil; as you advance, they retrograde--and as Art declines,
Nature smiles still sweeter and softer in never-ending successions of woods
and groves, hills and dales, glassy lakes and pebbly streams, with all the
variegated charms of rustic life.

But we are getting too _rural_; for our "Suburban Stroll" extended but to
Dulwich and back, about four miles south of London. Twenty years since, we
remember, the parish of Camberwell (which includes Peckham and Dulwich) was
a pleasant village, with several mansions inhabited by citizens of
property, who retired hither for air and recreation; now the whole district
is crowded with lath and plaster cottages, and sugar-bakers' boxes, which
appear well adapted for twelfth-cake kings and queens.[7] Twenty years ago,
we enjoyed the embowered walk of Camberwell Grove, and above all, _Grove
Hill_, the retreat of Dr. John Coakley Lettsom, till his benevolence
overmuch obliged him to part with this delightful residence. Well do we
remember the picturesque effect of Grove Hill, the unostentatious,
casino-like villa, ornamented with classic figures of Liberality, Plenty,
and Flora--and the sheet of water whose surface was broken by a stream from
a dank and moss-crusted fountain in its centre. Then, the high, overarching
grove, and its summit, traditionally said to be the spot where George
Barnwell murdered his uncle, the incident that gave rise to Lillo's
pathetic tragedy. But the march of improvement has extended hither--the
walk can scarcely be traced: still there is abundance of timber, for the
grove has disappeared, and scores of new houses have sprung up with almost
magical effect--and the whole scene reminds us of one of the change-scenes
of a pantomime. The builder's _share_ has turned over nearly every inch of
the ground, and fresh gravel and loose loam remind the philosophical
pedestrian that all is change beneath as well as on the surface. Of the
mock villas that have been "put up" in this quarter, we must speak with
forbearance. Their little bits of Gothic plastered here and there; their
puny machicolations, square and pointed arches, and stained glass "cut out
into little stars"--are but sorry specimens of taste, and but poor
indications of comfort. They seem to totter like card-houses, and all their
spick-and-span finery vanishes beside a wing of the picturesque--a cottage
in true rustic taste, with rudely-arched virandahs, formed of limbs and
trunks of trees, intermixed with evergreens, and reminding us of the
"gnarled oaks and soft myrtles" of the poet's fancy; and with trimmed
arches of thatch over little casements, with flowers

  "Blinding the lower panes."

Now is the little hatch-gate slammed with the wind, contrasting its rude
sound with the rusty creak of the "invisible" iron fence just set up, but
already

  So loose that it but wants another push
  To leap from off its hinges;

--the milk-white window-sill, or painted flower-pots ranged on bars of
cast-iron, like so many toys of Nature. Such was the contrast when we last
visited the "Grove;" the picturesque cottage was then as we have described
it, and its new-born neighbours were rising fast on every side, and we
would not insure its existence for a week longer; for the slicing, cutting,
and carving of this once beautiful spot, exceeds all credibility. With all
these changes, however, the fine panoramic view of two hundred miles may
still be enjoyed from this spot, and overlooking the meaner glories of the
GREAT CITY at your feet, the eye rests on the "sister hills," Harrow spire,
and where

  Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow;

Shooter's Hill and Greenwich, with tower, dome, and turret; Sydenham and
Norwood on the south; and Chelsea and the _unbridged_ winding Thames on the
west. Art has not yet thrown up her screens, so as to fence in this world
of beauties from our enjoyment. Here we sit down and rest our recreant
limbs, leaving the reader to enjoy the innumerable reflections which our
poor mention has called up. Another fine day, and we may proceed in our
stroll.

PHILO.

    [7] In the neighbourhood of Dulwich, we remember the mansion of a
        retired confectioner, which wags styled _Lollipop Hall_.

       *       *       *       *       *



THE GATHERER.

  A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.

  SHAKSPEARE.

       *       *       *       *       *


EPIGRAM.

_The Division of Justice._


  John Hobbs, partridge-snaring, was dragged to the 'Squire,
  The Magistrate flamed, but the statute hung fire.
  "Burns states," says the Clerk, "that tread-mill will do,
  For two months, if the culprit's convicted by two."
  "Two months and two magistrates: I sit alone.
  Well, Clerk, we must _halve_ it--commit him for _one_."

       *       *       *       *       *


HUDSON AND HIS PIGS.


The following is extracted from a recent American (private) letter:--

Hudson, who is a general dealer, purchased a cottage, to which pertained
amongst other _furniture_ a sty. As this was of course uninhabited, his
first care was to supply it with inmates, and, having purchased a couple of
fine pigs, he set off homewards with his bargains comfortably lodged in his
cart. Upon arriving at Buenos Ayres, a part of the harness broke, down went
the cart, and out shot Hudson and his bristly companions backwards; but
unfortunately falling upon one of the poor animals, he crushed him to
death. This was bad, Hudson looked blank, as who does not upon perceiving
Dame Fortune playing him foul? and woeful was it indeed to witness death
amongst his live stock; in this dilemma however, his wits did not utterly
forsake him, and concluding that if he could make the animal bleed, it
would probably be marketable and not prove a _dead_ loss, he proceeded to
act on this prudent supposition, and immediately cut its throat; which
sanguinary act so alarmed the companion pig, that taking to his heels, he
instantly made off (like his swinish brethren of old) towards the sea. Poor
Hudson, between the dead and the living pig, was dreadfully distressed,
being apprehensive of losing both; however being fortunate enough to engage
a man to pursue the absconded delinquent, he proceeded home with the
defunct, and by dint of ablutions, and scrapings, &c. really made of it "a
very pretty pig." This done, it was hung up in the dairy or beer-cellar, I
know not which, ready for market, and if Hudson plumed himself upon
cheating fortune at least in one instance, he was not to blame; but, lo! in
the morning, poor pig, presented a hideous and horrible spectacle, and poor
Hudson stood aghast to behold it! The cats had made during the night so
plentiful a repast upon his new purchase, so that instead of a handsome
corpse there remained only a mangled assemblage of bloody bones, and
fragments of flesh! Poor Hudson! but after all, these misfortunes were
mainly attributable to his own carelessness, and as to whether he ever
recovered his truant pig, I cannot say; perhaps the man may be in pursuit
of him still.

S.L.

       *       *       *       *       *


ON A PERSON SAYING HE SPENT TOO MUCH TIME ON MUSIC.


  On music that you spend your time,
    You surely can't mean what you say,
  For all who know you must allow
    You keep time whilst you sing or play.

       *       *       *       *       *


OLD PARR.


Thomas Parr lived to the extraordinary age of 152 years. He was of the
county of Salop, born anno 1483. He lived in the reigns of ten princes,
viz. Edward IV., King Edward V., King Richard III., King Henry VII., King
Henry VIII., King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James, and
King Charles, was buried at Westminster Abbey, November 15, 1635.

C.K.W.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE MARCH OF INTELLECT.


Colonel Despreaux, in a late pamphlet on the Police of Paris, remarks, that
there seem to be different periods for different crimes. He had always
observed the summer months to be comparatively months of low riot. November
began the burglaries, January and February the stealing of
pocket-handkerchiefs and snuff-boxes, probably from the conflux to the
theatres at that time. But, that swindling transactions, and all other
frauds that require peculiar dexterity, were prevalent about _March_.

       *       *       *       *       *


LONDON LEVELS.


The most lofty site in the immediate vicinity of London is the tavern
called Jack Straw's Castle, on the brow of Hampstead Heath, which is 443
feet above the Thames. The top of the cross of St. Paul's Cathedral is 407
feet, whilst its base, or ground-line, is 52 feet. The base of the lowest
building is that of the Bricklayer's Arms, Kent Road, the sill of the south
door of which is only six inches above the high-water mark. The sill of the
north entrance-door of Westminster Hall is only 11 inches.

       *       *       *       *       *


Lately published, with a Frontispiece, and thirty other Engravings, price
5s.

THE ARCANA OF SCIENCE, AND ANNUAL REGISTER OF THE USEFUL ARTS, FOR 1829.

"This is a valuable register of the progress of science and arts during the
past year. Engravings and a low price qualify it for extensive
utility"--_Literary Gazette. March 21._

"An agreeable and useful little volume."--_Athenæum, Feb._ 18.

       *       *       *       *       *

PURCHASERS of the MIRROR, who may wish to complete their sets are informed,
that every volume is complete in itself, and may be purchased separately.
The whole of the numbers are now in print, and can be procured by giving an
order to any Bookseller or Newsvender.

Complete sets Vol I. to XII. in boards, price £3. 5s. half bound, £4. 2s.
6d.