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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.


VOL. 13., No. 375.] SATURDAY, JUNE 13, 1829. [PRICE 2_d_.


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[Illustration: CUMBERLAND TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK.]


CUMBERLAND TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK.


The annexed Engraving completes our Series of _Architectural
Illustrations_ of the REGENT'S PARK, and is, withal the most magnificent
Terrace in the circuit. It stands considerably above the road, and is
approached by a fine carriage sweep, with handsome balustrades; below
which, and level with the road, is the garden, or promenade for the
residents of the Terrace.

The architect of Cumberland Terrace is Mr. Nash, who appears to have been
so lavish of ornament, as to give the whole range the appearance of a
triumphal temple. It consists of a centre and wings, connected by two
handsome arches, which have a very pleasing and novel effect. The entrance,
or ground story throughout, is rusticated, and in the principal parts or
masses of the elevation, serves as a base or pediment for handsome Doric
columns, above which is a balustrade, on which are placed allegorical
figures of the Seasons, the Quarters of the Globe, the Arts and Sciences,
&c. Each of these masses has a most imposing appearance, and bears four
figures; the figures in the whole range amount to twenty-seven. Above the
balustrade rises the attic story. The subordinate fronts of the residences
are embellished with Doric pilasters.

Each arch consists of four handsome Doric columns, with an entablature,
and blocking course.

The central portion of the terrace is in correspondent style with the
wings; and consists of a splendid colonnade of twelve columns and an
entablature. Above the attic story rises a pediment surmounted with
figures of Painting, Architecture, and Sculpture. This pediment is filled
with a basso-relievo, executed by J.H. Bubb, and representing Britannia
crowned by Fame, and seated on a throne, the basis of which represents
Valour and Wisdom. On one side, Literature, Genius, Manufacture,
Agriculture, and Prudence, are bringing youth of different nations for
instruction; and on the other side, the guardian-spirit of the Navy,
surmounted by Victory, Navigation, Commerce, and Freedom, is extending her
blessings to the Africans. The group is terminated on each side by Plenty.
This is supposed to be the largest ornamental pediment in the kingdom,
with the exception of that of the portico of St. Paul's, which only
exceeds it by a few feet.

From the sweep of this terrace may be enjoyed a highly picturesque view of
the park, with the crown of Primrose Hill in the distance.

At this close of the Series of Views, and as we are approaching the
conclusion of our volume, it may not be amiss to recapitulate the several
engravings, with their pages in the preceding and present volumes of the
MIRROR, and the order in which they stand in the Regent's Park, which
order circumstances have prevented our uniformly following in their
publication: thus--


  _Buildings_.                _Architects_.   _Mirror, Vol._ _Page._

  Ulster Terrace                                  xi           401
  York Terrace                  Nash              xiii         129
  Sussex Place                  Nash              xiii         273
  Cornwall Terrace              D. Burton         xiii         305
  Clarence Terrace              D. Burton         xii           17
  Hanover Terrace               Nash              x            313
  Hanover Lodge                                   xiii          49
  Grove House                   D. Burton         xiii          49
  Marquess of Hertford's Villa  D. Burton         xiii          81
  Macclesfield Bridge           Morgan            xiii         351
  East (now Gloucester) Gate                      xi           225
  St. Katherine's               Poynter           xi           273
  Master's Residence            Poynter           xi           289
  Cumberland Terrace            Nash              xiii         401
  Chester Terrace               Nash              xiii         193
  Exterior of the Colosseum     D. Burton         xiii          65
  Interior of the Colosseum     D. Burton         xiii          97

In this _Series_ we have endeavoured to represent all the architectural
beauties of the Park, and liable as are all of them to critical objection,
they are extremely interesting for pictorial displays of the taste of this
castle-building age.


       *       *       *       *       *

THE KING'S STAG, &C.

_(To the Editor of the Mirror.)_


As several of your correspondents have lately interested themselves in the
sign of "The Cat and Fiddle;" a few observations may not be thought
irrelevant, on the probable origin of the "King's Stag," a description of
which, under the signature, _Ruris_, appeared in the MIRROR, of Saturday,
the 30th ult. Its rise may, I conceive, with tolerable certainty, be
traced to the stag said to have been taken in the Forest of Senlis, by
Charles the Sixth, about whose neck was a collar, with the inscription,
"_Caesar hoc mihi donavit_," which induced a belief that the animal had
lived from the reign of some one of the twelve Caesars. This inscription
also exists in the following form:--

  "Tempore, quo Caesar Româ, dominatus in altâ
  Aureolo jussit collum signare moniti;
  Ne depascentem quisquis me gramina laedat,
  Caesaris heu causâ, periturae parcere vitae."

which has been thus literally translated in nearly the same words quoted
by _Ruris_--

  "When Julius Caesar reigned king,
  About my neck he put this ring,
  That whosoever did me take,
  Should spare my life for Caesar's sake."

It thus appears that _Julius_ Caesar is gratuitously introduced by the
English paraphrast, nothing appearing in the original inscription to
determine its application, or render it more probable, that the reference
should be to Julius Caesar, than to Domitian; and the two first lines
given by _Ruris_, have evidently been introduced by way of transferring
the subject to our own country.

Allow me before concluding this communication, one word in reply to E.D.'s
observations on the "Cat and Fiddle." It is not impossible that some
resemblance (though I am disposed to think it very trifling) may exist
between the "tones of a _flute_" and those of "the human voice;" but I
have yet to learn wherein consists the similarity of the notes of the
clarinet and those of a "GOOSE;" neither do I imagine performers on the
violin, (especially Italians,) will feel themselves obliged by E.D.'s
comparison of their favourite instrument, to the vile squall of the feline
race. On the whole, I should feel more disposed to concur with him who
"has been led away by a love of etymology" that the "Cat and Fiddle" is an
"anomalous" sign, and that "no two objects in the world have less to do
with each other than a cat and a violin," than to adopt the opposite
theories of E.D. or his predecessor, unless better supported than they are
at present. IOTA.



       *       *       *       *       *

THE SKETCH-BOOK.

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RECOLLECTIONS OF A WANDERER.

_The Wreck._[1]

_(For the Mirror.)_



  All night the booming minute-gun
    Had pealed along the deep,
  And mournfully the rising sun
    Look'd o'er the tide-worn steep,
  A bark from India's coral strand,
    Before the rushing blast,
  Had vailed her topsails to the sand
    And bowed her noble mast.
  The Queenly ship! brave hearts had striven
    And true ones died with her!
  We saw her mighty cable riven,
    Like floating gossamer!
  We saw her proud flag struck that morn,
    A star once o'er the seas,
  Her helm beat down, her deck uptorn,
    And sadder things than these!
                              MRS. HEMANS

Sweet romantic Cove of Torwich--repository of my youth's recollections!--A
mingled gust of feeling crosses over me, rainbow-like,--fraught with the
checkered remembrances of "life's eventful history," when I turn to the
past, and glance over the scenes of my early life.

The Bay of Torwich, on the southern coast, unites in its fullest extent
the singularly wild and picturesque, with the softer features of the
landscape. The bay consists of two headlands, about four miles apart. On
the eastern side a lofty range of rocky heights extends for a considerable
way, almost equalling those of Dovor in sublimity, and juts out into the
sea, on the assaults of which they seem to frown defiance, terminating in
a bold headland. The violence of the sea has caused extensive and
picturesque excavations and caverns; and at the end of the cliff, two
sharp rocks called the Needles, raised their heads at low water, connected
by a low, sunken reef. In a westerly gale these rocks were very dangerous
to homeward-bound ships, and I have often sat with admiration in the
heights above, watching the grotesque forms and silvery spray of the
gigantic breakers, which after being broken in their progress, heaved
their expiring rage with a shock like thunder, against the base of the
cliffs, causing a prolonged echo in the huge caverns above. About midway
between these cliffs and the western side there was another lofty headland,
which terminated the Cove of Torwich; as the sea, except at low-water in
high spring tides, washed the foot of this promontory, it was only
fordable at ebb-tide. In the middle of the intermediate space, three rocks
which might truly be called "forked promontories" from their sharp
pyramidical shape, jutted abruptly out of the beach, and were connected by
a sort of natural causeway to the main land. Beyond, a wild and rocky
valley ran inland, and the time-worn ruins of ---- Castle, beetling over
the heights, terminated the view in this direction. This valley formed the
bed of a small stream, which ran by the end of the rocks, composing a
channel by which coasting vessels could run up and discharge their cargoes
for the village of Torwich, only part of which was visible at this spot. A
natural cleft in the vein opened through the centre of these singular
rocks, resembling a lofty gothic arch, and it was my favourite pastime to
sit here in the most perfect seclusion, reading "sermons in stones" and
watching the progress of the tide till it kissed my feet, and often
surrounded me, for the flood came in with great velocity. Between these
rocks and the heights on the eastern side, there was another little
retired creek, renowned in the village annals, for the adventures of Jack
Covering, a noted smuggler on this coast, some forty years ago, with the
locality of which the reader will erewhile become better acquainted. The
magnificence of the convulsed scenery, and yawning chasms around, the deep
intonation and ceaseless roar of the ocean, all combined to awaken in the
mind of the spectator, mingled sensations of admiration and awe.

The coast receded between the eastern point of the cove to that which
terminated the Bay of Torwich, embracing what may be almost termed a
champaign country, compared with the barren scenery I have described; and
displaying the uneven surface of the richly wooded Park of Dovedale, with
the ruins of two castles.

The village of Torwich which stood on a declivity, with an opening descent
to the shore, about half a mile from the entrance of the cove, had little
communication, from the nature of its site, with the neighbouring country,
except when the all-powerful attraction of a wreck existed. Its
inhabitants were chiefly sailors or fishermen, barring a few useless
individuals like myself. I loved to study life in all its gradations--the
"March of Intellect" was yet unknown here! and though the situation
afforded such numerous advantages for smuggling, there were, rather
unaccountably, only three persons in the village connected with the coast
blockade; and it was whispered that relying on the entire seclusion of the
cove, these persons too often winked when they ought to have been astir on
their duty.

The day was far spent, when towards the close of the month of October,
18--, I wandered out to the shore to watch the flow of the evening's tide.
The weather had been unsettled for some time previous, and the rain had
fallen in torrents, with a moderate breeze, during most part of the day.
Towards evening the rain ceased, though large heavy masses of black clouds
were flying about, and backing up to seaward, accompanied with a short
gusty gale of wind. I never recollect a more dismal night. A thick haze
overspread the lower parts of the landscape, throwing the bloated masses
of clouds higher up in the horizon, into a sort of sombre relief. As I
passed a little look-out house on my way to the beach, I sauntered to a
group of sailors at their usual council, who were gazing with deep
interest at a solitary vessel dimly discernible through the fog in the
offing. As she neared us we found her to be a barque of apparently
considerable burthen, making a tack to weather the Torhead, which lay
several miles under her lee, with a strong breeze from windward. She was
evidently quite out of her reckoning from the indecision and embarassment
displayed in her movements; and the captain seemed not sufficiently aware
of the hazard he ran. I waited sometime at this place watching the
movements of the ship. The tide came roaring in with a broken swell
increased by a high spring flood; and there was that in the "wind's eye"
which betokened approaching disaster; while the gloom was increasing, and
the harsh cries and hurried flight of the sea-birds indicated tempestuous
weather.

"An ugly looking night this, Mr. ---- as I have seen for many a-day,"
remarked Harry Covering, one of the oldest of the group of sailors, and a
crony of mine. "Sink the Customs! if yon ship weathers Torhead this night,
may I never pull an oar again." "It is, indeed, a fearful-looking night,
messmate, and no time ought to be lost in the present state of the tide in
putting off to her--for if the wind holds in this part, it is great odds
indeed, that she does not go upon the Needles."

The breeze was freshening every moment; indeed the situation of the
strange ship must soon become imminently dangerous. The crew seemed at
last to have awakened from their lethargy, and were apparently making
every effort to enable her to gain an offing and weather Torhead, before
the combined force of wind and flood should render that impracticable. It
was a moment of deep interest. I am not acquainted with any event,
notwithstanding the frequency of its recurrence, that appeals more
directly to our sympathies, than a shipwreck. The mighty power of the
ocean is thus brought before us in its most striking sense, and the
general scene of disaster it occasions is almost always varied with
instances of individual sympathy for some of the wrecked. We were now
joined by the resident officer of the coast-blockade, and a party of men
were dispatched to pull off to the ship in distress, while the rest of us
hurried towards the Torhead, accompanied in our rear, (for the news had
reached the village) by a turn-out of most of its inhabitants, influenced
both by the passion of curiosity and that of expected plunder. Many of the
older class looked upon wrecking as legitimate a trade as fishing for
herrings or pilchards; while perhaps nearly all from the force of habit
and long-practised example, regarded a wreck as a booty sent them by the
elements; the scattered contents of which it was no more crime to take
than it would be to pick up any other thing cast by accident on the beach.

The sea was breaking over the needles with frightful violence when we
reached Torhead--the spray dashing almost to the summit of the cliffs. We
were now almost opposite the vessel, which appeared to be French built;
but the increasing darkness prevented our distinguishing her minutely. The,
flash of a gun from her side, amidst the deepening gloom, redoubled my
interest. A more interesting object than a solitary vessel in danger, I
cannot well conceive. I have always looked upon a ship as a living
creature--the companion of man--a thing instinct with life, walking the
waters--and our feelings are not only excited for the safety of the crew,
but for that of the vessel itself, to which we attach a degree of interest
as for a friend. A gale was now up; the boat put off to their aid was in
danger of being swamped by the surf, and found it impracticable to make
way against a violent head-wind and tide united. Nothing short of a
miracle could now save the ship; however the wind suddenly shifted a
little, and I began to hope that if she was to be wrecked, it might be
farther on the shore; as in case of her striking on the Needles, she must
almost immediately go to pieces under our eyes, without the most remote
chance of the escape of one of the crew. A sheet of light flashed
occasionally from her sides, calling for aid out of the power of man to
grant. There was a sudden lull in the wind, which sometimes happens in the
most violent tempests, though often succeeded by increased fury; and a
strong shower of sleet and rain drove most of our followers home. As it
had now become quite dark, and it was morally impossible to yield the ship
any aid till daylight, I returned to the village with melancholy
forebodings, having placed beacons on the heights.

I hastily proceeded again to the shore just before daybreak. The distant
moaning of the sea, the harsh screams of the cormorants with the desolate
nature of the spot, chilled my spirits. I had passed a sleepless night,
and the storm rose again, and raged till near daybreak with increased fury,
but the wind was now greatly hushed. The sea, however, showed marks of its
violence; the bay was white with foam, and as I proceeded, the tide, which
was just beginning to flow, roared loudly, and advanced in short breakers
wreathed with spray. The sky also looked dismally, and gave token that the
gale had not entirely passed away, though its violence had temporarily
abated. I advanced with deep interest by the peaked group of rocks, and
passed the wreck of a brig lying high and dry on the sand just before me.
The whole of the shore between the Heads, was strewed with her contents. I
never witnessed so total a wreck in so short a space of time. The violence
of the surf had completely beaten her sides out, leaving stem and stern
hanging together as by a thread, while her ribs and broken cordage and
sails, completed the picture, had any thing been wanting to perfect it. I
could moralize any day on a single bit of plank on a shore--each fragment
seems to tell its tale, and awakens a train of thoughts and feelings in
the mind; but "grim desolation" was here visibly before me.

Though I was early astir, I found that the prospect of booty had been
sufficiently powerful already to draw out not only the inhabitants of
Torwich, but great numbers of the neighbouring peasantry. But where was
the ship, about whose fate we had been so greatly interested the preceding
evening? This was manifestly not her; but I distinctly saw a large, black
hull lying under the western cliffs, half a mile distant, towards which
the people were rapidly moving. She had come ashore a little after high
water, during the night. I picked my way through the wreck strewn
around--to a small group of persons standing near me; five of them were
strangers, the crew of the brig. I learnt that my surmises were right
concerning the ship in the distance, and that the brig which was laden
with crockery came ashore about the same period.

I left these poor fellows endeavouring to rescue their little articles of
property, and took a route apart from the course of the crowd towards the
other ship. I had not gone far, when I almost stumbled over the dead body
of a young female, lying with her face uppermost, half buried in the sand--

  Her very tresses clung
  All tangled by the storm.

The bodies of a gentleman of foreign aspect, and that of a lad about
seventeen, (their hands still firmly clasped together, undivided even in
death,) lay close by. It was a melancholy scene. They had evidently been a
father and his children. The long boat of the vessel, which had I suppose,
taken ground here, being staved and swamped by the surf, was close beyond,
near which I observed the bodies of several other men. It was with pain
and horror I remarked that some wretches who had been here before me, had
partly stripped the bodies of the lady and others in their search after
plunder, besides rifling the contents of some cases of valuables, which
had been put into the boat. I hastily turned towards the principal scene
of disaster, and addressed myself to one of the survivors, whom I found to
be the supercargo. The vessel was _La Bonne Esperance_ of Brest, of 550
tons, homeward bound, with a mixed cargo of rum, cotton, and colonial
produce, from the West Indies. It appeared that the captain, mate, and
passengers had left the ship just as she struck, and taken to the long
boat, the fatal result of which has been seen. As I surmised, the bodies I
had seen consisted of one family, the only passengers on board, a colonel
in the army, with his son and daughter, returning to his country after
long service in foreign parts. The supercargo, in the confusion which took
place, could not get into the long boat in time, and remained with the
rest of the crew on board; several of the seamen were washed off the decks
and dashed against the rocks, and my narrator and three others were all
that survived "to tell the tale."

The ship's hull lay jammed between two small rocks near the foot of the
cliffs; she was still almost outwardly entire, as the tide receded just
after she came ashore in the night; but there was a hole knocked in her
side from whence a portion of the cargo had been washed out. The two
principal masts had gone by the board, but a part of the mizen-mast was
still standing; and the rocks were covered, far and near, with tattered
portions of her sails and cordage pasted against their sides, disposed by
the sea, in a grotesque manner.

As the principal station of the preventive corps was at a considerable
distance, some time would elapse before they could lend their aid in the
protection of the property; and the mob from the neighbouring country,
disappointed at finding little else but broken crockery at the other wreck,
seemed disposed to make the most of their time, and were proceeding with
all the violence and rapacity of professed wreckers. In spite of the
exertions of the officer from Torwich and his assistants, they were
mounting the sides, and had spread themselves over the vessel like a pack
of hungry wolves on the dead carcass of a horse, when I arrived. A scene
of greater confusion and singularity cannot be described.

It was not long before their attention was awakened by the tapping of a
cask of rum, which with many more had been washed out of the hold. This
beverage presented a powerful attraction; the ship was soon, in some
measure, deserted, and the mob concentrated like a swarm of wasps round
the casks. All distinctions were now at an end; the better sort of farmer
or shopkeeper, scrambled with the pauper for a cup or cap (or shoe) full
of the mellow liquid; while the supercargo and his men, aided by myself
and a few others, were occupied in hastily putting into some carts the
more valuable articles rescued from plunder. As the parties had been
immoderate in their potations, so the effects were equally speedy. Women
lay on the sand, dead drunk, beside the booty they had collected, while
unable to stir, it was snatched from their powerless grasp by others
stronger or more sober than themselves. Several pitched battles were also
taking place, both amongst boys and men, which generally terminated by
each of the combatants falling prostrate martyrs to Bacchus. The infection
was universal, and even the three "mounseers," the surviving crew of the
Bonne Esperance, could not resist an occasional sly pull at the liquor.
These men, though they had only just escaped sudden death, seemed not to
be cast down; but with their characteristic agility, one minute assisted
to roll the casks into carts, and then ran off perhaps to whisper a
compliment to some pretty girl, shrugging up their shoulders at the
unceremonious repulse they met with from _mademoiselle_.

But this scene was not to last long: for the tide had been imperceptibly
making way and closing. I had always observed that after coming to a
certain place, its velocity was greatly accelerated, and it was with
feelings of alarm that I saw the danger which the almost unconscious
people incurred. From regard to our own safety we had to retreat rapidly
towards the shingles, carrying as many of the helpless as time would admit
out of danger, in which we were aided by many of the sailors from Torwich,
who had assisted in rescuing a portion of the cargo. The peasantry, at
last aware of the hazard they ran, took to their heels also; but from the
state they were in, many were forgotten or left behind. The roar of waters
came rapidly onward, and amid the foaming eddy created by its advance, the
stifled death-cry, mingled with the harsh and piercing shrieks of some of
the half drowning victims--one moment awakened to the consciousness of
their situation, and the next hurried to eternity--burst on the ear; and
such was the advance of the spring-flood, that a few minutes after the
rush of people had reached the shingles, the curling breakers rolled the
bodies of several of the sufferers almost to their feet. The most lively
interest was now excited towards a small rock, which jutted out of the
sand a little distance from the wreck. The two poor children of a
fisherman's widow in the village, were playing in a cavity of this rock,
when the tide surrounded them. Their voices were drowned by the roaring of
the waters, and their fate would have been unknown, had not the wild
appearance and frantic screams of the mother--come in search of her
children--attracted notice. When they were discovered, only a ledge of the
rock was discernible; and the little sufferers were seen imploring for
help amidst the spray with which the waves, fanned by a stiff breeze from
windward, covered them. Several brave fellows swam off towards the rock,
but before they could reach it, a sudden rush of tide swept over, and
engulfed the children amidst the fragments of wreck hurled forward in its
advance. One of the sailors seized the youngest of the children and bore
him safely to shore. The body of the other was found when the tide ebbed,
under a ledge of rocks on the eastern side. Upwards of fifteen persons
were amongst the missing. It was an impressive scene, and read a powerful
lesson to all.

"Wrecking" has long been deservedly a national reproach. It is, however,
rarely accompanied with the cruelty and violence by which it was formerly
characterized; and such aggravated scenes now seldom occur. The people of
our coasts have become, generally, much more civilized, and probably the
"march of improvement" will ultimately eradicate so inhuman a custom. In
Cornwall it was carried to such an excess that the example was even given
from the pulpit; and there is a story related of a Cornish parson, who
upon information being brought to his congregation of a wreck whilst they
were at church, exhorted them to pause as they were rushing out _en masse_
in the midst of the service; and having gained the door, took to his heels
saying, "Now, my lads, it is but fair we should all start alike!" and
reached the wreck first. The people view the plunder of a wreck as a right,
and it is in vain to attempt to persuade them otherwise. However it is but
justice to say that they have frequently risked, and even sacrificed,
their own lives in endeavouring to preserve those of others; though some
recent instances, especially in Wales, prove that the old disposition
still lurks amongst the people, and sometimes breaks out with unabated
violence.

The arrival of a party of the Preventive Service that evening, in some
measure proved a check to the plunder of the peasantry; but the guards
themselves were not proof against the prevailing infection, and similar
scenes to that related, prevailed as long as there was any thing left to
drink or pick up; however, a considerable part of the cargo was safely
stowed, though there were few of the rum casks that did not afterwards
turn out impregnated with bilge water.

On a fine grey morning, about a week after these events occurred, I
wandered out towards the shore: there had been rough weather in the
channel, and many wrecks, and the turbulence of the ocean had not yet
subsided. It was about half-flood when I reached the _Bonne Esperance_.
She had disappeared by piece-meal under the repeated assaults of the sea,
but the principal part of the hull was still hanging together. Each wave
as it struck her tattered timbers, seemed to sap away her strength and
threatened to shake her to fragments. I sat with the supercargo for about
an hour, watching the flow of the tide. Her timbers cracked louder and
louder at each shock of the breakers; when a heavy sea struck her, her
joints loosened, and she broke up at last, scattered into fragments, and
whelmed in a gulf of boiling waters which foamed like an immense cauldron
over the place she had occupied a minute before. We had watched the
progress to this final disaster with the deepest interest--I may almost
say sympathy--for we could hardly help looking upon the ship as a friend
in need, hovering as it were over destruction without an arm being
stretched forth to save her, and it was not without a real feeling of pain
and sorrow that we witnessed her destruction.

About half-ebb we descended to the shore--it was covered as far as the eye
could reach with her ruin and materials; and one could almost imagine it
had been the destruction of a fleet. Thus ended the fate of _La Bonne
Esperance_ of Brest, and the occasional appearance of a solitary fragment
on the beach, was soon all that recalled her history to the remembrance of
the passers-by.

VYVYAN.

[1] The scenes and events in tins sketch are drawn from nature, and real
    occurrences on the southern coast.



       *       *       *       *       *

OLD POETS.


GOOD DEEDS.

  Wretched is he who thinks of doing ill.
    His evil deeds long to conceal and hide;
  For though the voice and tongues of men be still,
    By fowls and beasts his sins shall be descried.
  And God oft worketh by his secret will,
    That sin itself, the sinner so doth guide,
  That of its own accord without request,
    He makes his wicked doings manifest.

SIR J. HARRINGTON.

       *       *       *       *       *

DEATH.

  Death is a port whereby we reach to joy,
    Life is a lake that drowneth all in pain,
  Death is so near it ceaseth all annoy,
    Life is so leav'd that all it yields is vain;
  And as by life to bondage Man was brought,
  Even so likewise by death was freedom wrought.

EARL OF SURREY.

       *       *       *       *       *

BEAUTY.

  Nought under Heaven so strongly doth allure
    The sense of man and all his mind possess,
  As Beauty's lovely bait that doth procure
    Great warriors oft their rigour to repress,
  And mighty hands forget their manliness.
    Driven with the power of an heart robbing eye,
  And wrapt in flowers of a golden tress,
    That can with melting pleasance mollify
    Their hard'ned hearts enur'd to blood and cruelty.

SPENSER.

       *       *       *       *       *

LEARNING.

  ----But that Learning in despite of fate
  Will mount aloft and enter Heaven's gate;
  And to the seat of Jove itself advance,
  Hermes had slept in Hell with Ignorance.
  Yet as a punishment they added this,
  That he and Poverty should always kiss.
  And to this day is every scholar poor,
  Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.

C. MARLOWE.

       *       *       *       *       *

FEELING.

  ----The feeling power which is life's root,
    Through every living part itself doth shed,
  By sinews which extend from head to foot,
    And like a net all over the body spread.
  Much like a subtle spider, which doth sit
    In middle of her web which spreadeth wide,
  If aught do touch the outmost thread of it,
    She feels it instantly on every side.

J. DAVIES.

       *       *       *       *       *

INJUSTICE.

  So foul a thing, O thou injustice art,
    That torment'st the doer and distrest;
  For when a man hath done a wicked part,
    O how he strives to excuse--to make the best;
  To shift the fault t' unburden his charg'd heart,
    And glad to find the least surmise of rest;
  And if he could make his, seem other's sin,
  O what repose, what ease he'd find therein.

DANIELL.

       *       *       *       *       *

RICHES.

  Vessels of brass oft handled brightly shine.
  What difference between the richest mine
  And basest earth, but use? for both not used
  Are of little worth; then treasure is abused,
  When misers keep it; being put to loan,
  In time it will return us two for one.

C. MARLOWE.


       *       *       *       *       *

THE IDIOT LOVER.

(DRAWN FROM LIFE.)

_(For the Mirror.)_


  "That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
  If with his tongue he cannot win a woman."


John Laconi was born in the romantic country of Switzerland. He was
educated tolerably well; he was a good musician, and could draw
excellently. He possessed a small, though independent fortune. However,
notwithstanding his advantages and acquirements, he proved, when he became
a lover, to be an idiot.

At a certain period of his life, he fell violently in love with a
beautiful young Swiss lady. She was considerably younger than our hero,
was much taller, and her elegant refinements rendered her a very desirable
object. John had a sister, to whom the young lady paid frequent friendly
visits, and upon such occasions, owing probably to that _mauvaise honte_,
with which he was cursed, he was usually absent from home. I will not
disgust my fair readers with a minute description of _all_ his absurdities;
one example, or so, shall suffice.

One fine evening, in the month of June, after spending the day with
Laconi's sister, the young lady prepared to return alone to her father's
_château_, at the distance of about a mile; and on this occasion, John
determined to give a specimen of his gallantry in escorting the fair one
home, resolving likewise to declare his passion in plain terms.
Accordingly, having put on his hat and cloak, and stationed himself at the
gate, he appeared as formidable as any doughty knight in the days of
romance, ready to offer his protection to some forlorn damsel. No sooner,
however, did the lady appear, than he became so confused as not to be able
to answer her greeting. She was also confused for a moment at his manner,
but immediately began her walk with much disgust and _nonchalance_; while
he, like a silly _valet de chambre_, followed behind, leaving his dear
mistress' questions unanswered, and gazing with a vacant stare at the moon.
At length, to the lady's infinite satisfaction, the white gate of her
father's _château_ appeared in view, and John, finding they had nearly
reached their destination, articulated, in a half suffocated tone, "I--I
beg pardon, ma--madam, I have been considering--." "You have, indeed,
Mr. John," quickly returned the smiling damsel, "but I think you might
have chosen another opportunity, more seasonable than the present, to
consider the moon!" To this retort, he said nothing, but looked extremely
foolish and ridiculous. However, when they had actually gained the gate of
the _château_, he boldly resolved to kiss his fair enslaver; but, after a
moment, his resolution failed, and his legs tottered under him. Without
hearing the lady's sweet "good night," as she tripped gaily from him, he
exclaimed, "Madam, can you love me?" This appeal was not heard by the
flying maiden, who hastily ascended the steps to her father's door, which
opened and concealed her lovely form from the sight of the amazed lover,
who had not courage sufficient to follow her.

Whether our idiot did not comprehend the behaviour of his mistress, I
cannot say; certain it is, he went home well contented with the success he
imagined he had gained towards winning her heart. But, in reality, she was
disgusted with his foolery, and ceased paying any more visits to her
female friend, in order to avoid the sight of so strange a lover.

John, however, was a kind of philosopher, and calmly sustained his love
misfortunes. A particular occurrence happened which will somewhat account
for this passive resignation. One evening, during a solitary walk, he saw
his identical mistress in company with a young French officer. He walked
sullenly home, wrote some verses on the inconstancy of women, drew from
recollection a portrait of the cruel fair, which he hung in his study, and
banished his former pretences. Report says, that he lived the remainder of
his days in a state of celibacy. G.W.N.


       *       *       *       *       *

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY.


Sincerely do we regret to announce the death of this great and good
man--the most celebrated philosopher of our times, who has done more for
the happiness of his species than any associated Academy in Europe. He
died at Geneva, May 29, aged 51. We shall endeavour to do justice to his
talents and amiable character, in a Memoir to be published at the close of
this volume of THE MIRROR--prefixed to which will be a fine Portrait of
the illustrious deceased.




       *       *       *       *       *

SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.

       *       *       *       *       *


DISCOVERY OF THE FATE OF LA PEROUSE.

_Abridged from the United Service Journal._


The fate of this celebrated French navigator, which for upwards of forty
years has remained enveloped in mystery, has at length been satisfactorily
ascertained, a result that is owing to the active and spirited exertions
of our gallant and enterprising countryman Captain Dillon.

It is a remarkable circumstance, that the discovery of the relics of La
Perouse, arose out of the massacre of the ship Hunter's crew, at the
Feejee Islands, in 1813.

In this unfortunate affair, fourteen persons in all, from the ship Hunter,
lost their lives. The two that escaped with Mr. Dillon, were William
Wilson and Martin Buchart, a Prussian, who resided for two years at Bough.
The latter entreated captain Robson to give him and his Bough wife a
passage to the first land at which he might arrive, as they would
certainly be sacrificed if they returned to the island. Having made
Tucopia on the 20th of September, Buchart, his wife, and a Lascar, were
put on shore, and the Hunter proceeded on her voyage to Canton.

On the 13th of May, 1826, while in command of the St. Patrick, bound from
Valparaiso to Pondicherry, captain Dillon came in sight of the island of
Tucopia. Prompted by curiosity, as well as regard for old companions in
danger, he lay to, anxious to ascertain whether the persons left there in
1813, were still alive. A canoe, in which was the Lascar, soon afterwards
put off from land and came alongside. This was immediately succeeded by
another canoe, containing Martin Buchart, the Prussian. They were both in
excellent health, and exceedingly rejoiced to see him. They informed him,
that the natives had treated them very kindly; and that no ship had
touched at the island from the time they were first landed, until about a
year previous to his arrival, when an English whaler visited them, and was
soon after followed by a second. The Lascar had an old silver sword-guard,
which he bartered for a few fishing-hooks. Captain Dillon inquired where
he had obtained it; the Prussian informed him, that on his arrival at the
island, he saw it in the possession of the natives, also several
chainplates belonging to a ship, a number of iron bolts, five axes, the
handle of a silver fork, a few knives, tea-cups, glass beads and bottles,
one silver spoon with a crest and a cipher, a sword, &c. As soon as he
became sufficiently acquainted with the language, he asked the natives how
they obtained those articles, as they said that the Hunter was the first
ship with which they had ever held communication. They replied, that about
two days' sail in their canoes to leeward, there was a large group of
islands, known generally by the name of Manicolo, to which they were in
the habit of making frequent voyages, and that they had procured these
articles from the inhabitants, who possessed many more of a similar
description.

Buchart proceeded to state, that the Tucopians asserted that a great
number of articles were on the Manicolo Islands in a state of preservation,
and such articles were evidently obtained from the wreck of a vessel.
About seven months before captain Dillon touched at Tucopia, a canoe had
returned from Manicolo, and brought away two large chain plates, and an
iron bolt, about four feet in length. He spoke with some of the crew of
the canoe which had last made the voyage to Manicolo. They told him that
there was abundance of iron materials still remaining on the island. Those
which Martin Buchart saw were much oxydized and worn. The only silver
spoon brought to Tucopia, as far as captain Dillon could learn, was beaten
out into a wire by Buchart, for the purpose of making rings and other
ornaments for the female islanders. Upon examining the sword-guard
minutely, captain Dillon discovered, or thought he discovered, the
initials of Perouse stamped upon it, which circumstance prompted him to be
more eager in his inquiries.

The Prussian said he had himself never made a trip to Manicolo with the
Tucopians, but the Lascar had gone once or twice. He positively affirmed,
that he had seen and conversed at Paiow, a native town, with the Europeans
who spoke the language of the islanders. They were old men, he said, who
told him that they had been wrecked several years ago in one of the ships,
the remnants of which they pointed out to him. They informed him also that
no vessel had touched at the islands since they had been there; that most
of their comrades were dead, but they had been so scattered among the
various islands, that they could not tell precisely how many of them were
still living.

On hearing so many circumstances all tending to confirm his suspicions,
from the moment he saw the silver sword-guard with the cipher, captain
Dillon determined to proceed as quickly as possible to the Manicolo
Islands, examine the wrecks himself, and, if practicable, bring off the
two men with whom the Lascar had spoken, and whom, he said, were Frenchmen.
For this purpose he begged the latter to accompany him, but as he was
married and comfortably settled on the island, neither promises nor
threats were of any avail, although captain Dillon offered to bring him
back to Tucopia. Martin Buchart, on the contrary, was tired of the savage
life he had led for the last fourteen years, and gladly acceded to the
wishes of captain Dillon, who after prevailing with a Tucopian also to
come on board, sailed for the island. Unfortunately, as the ship neared
the land, it fell a perfect calm, and continued so for seven days. At this
time the stock of dry provisions was nearly exhausted, and there was no
animal food to be procured on Tucopia. The crew lived principally on New
Zealand potatoes and bananas. The vessel became every day more leaky from
a long continuance at sea; and a person on board, who was interested in
the cargo, had, during captain Dillon's stay in the islands, shown himself
particularly discontented, and had frequently and warmly remonstrated at
what he considered an unnecessary and useless delay; for these reasons,
therefore, captain Dillon determined, though with the greatest reluctance,
to take advantage of a breeze which sprang up, continued his voyage, and
arrived at Bengal with much difficulty, his ship being in a very leaky
condition.

Unwilling to abandon his favourite object, captain Dillon now applied to
the Asiatic Society, and to the Bengal Government; and in consequence of
his representations, his suggestions were at length carried into effect.
He was appointed to the command of one of the Company's cruisers, of
sixteen guns and eighty-five men, called the Research; and on the 27th of
January, 1827, he sailed from Bengal, visited Van Dieman's Land, New South
Wales, New Zealand, the Friendly Islands, Ro-Thoma, or Granville Island of
the Pandora, Tucopia, and arrived at Manicolo on the 27th of September.
This island (Manicolo, or Vanicolo) is not the Mallicolo of captain Cook,
being situated only 118 miles to the leeward of Tucopia, in latitude 11
deg. 47 min., whilst the former lies in south latitude 16 deg. 15 min.

Captain Dillon personally visited the reefs on which the French ships are
ascertained to have struck and gone to pieces, according to the accounts
of the natives, from which the following particulars have been obtained of
that disastrous event:--"Many years ago two large ships arrived at the
islands; one anchored off the island of Whanoo, and the other off that of
Paiow, a little distance from each other. Soon after, and before they had
any communication with the natives, a heavy gale arose, and both vessels
were driven ashore. The ship off Whanoo grounded upon the rocks. The
natives came in crowds to the sea-shore, armed with clubs, spears, bows
and arrows, and discharged some arrows into the vessel; the crew in return
fired, and killed several of the islanders. The vessel continued to strike
violently against the rocks, and soon went to pieces. Some of the crew
took to their boats, but were driven on shore, and murdered by the natives;
others threw themselves into the sea, and such as reached the land, shared
the fate of their unfortunate companions, so that not a single soul
belonging to this vessel escaped alive."

"The ship which grounded on Paiow, was driven on a sandy beach, and the
natives came down and also discharged their arrows into her; but the crew
prudently did not resent the aggression, but held up axes, beads, and toys,
as peace-offerings, upon which the assailants desisted from farther
hostilities. As soon as the wind had moderated, an aged chief, in a canoe,
put off to the ship. He was received with caresses, accepted the presents
offered to him: and upon going ashore, pacified the islanders by
assurances that the ship's crew were peaceably inclined towards them. Upon
this, several natives went on board, and were all presented with toys. In
return, they supplied the crew with yams, fowls, bananas, cocoa-nuts, hogs,
&c. and confidence was established between them. The ship was now
abandoned, and the crew went on shore, bringing with them part of her
stores. Here they remained for some time, and built a small vessel with
the materials from the wreck. When it was ready to put to sea, as many as
could conveniently, embarked in her, being plentifully supplied with fresh
provisions by the islanders. The commander promised those who were left
behind, to return immediately with presents for the natives, and to bring
them off; but, as the little vessel was never afterwards heard of, the men
sought the protection of the neighbouring chiefs, with whom they lived.
Several muskets and some gunpowder had been left them by their comrades,
and by means of these, they proved of great service to their friends, in
encounters with the neighbouring islanders."

The natives of Manicolo are not cannibals; but when an enemy falls into
their power he is immediately killed, and his body is deposited in
sea-water, and kept there until the bones become perfectly bare. The
skeleton is then taken up, the bones of the extremities scraped and cut
into various forms, to point arrows and spears. Their arms consist of
heavy clubs, spears, and bows and arrows. They poison the latter with a
kind of reddish gum, extracted from a species of tree peculiar to the
island. When any one is struck by a poisoned arrow in any of the limbs,
the part is quickly cut out, and his life is sometimes saved; but if the
wound happens to be in the body, where it cannot be easily excised, he
resigns himself quietly to death without a murmur, though he frequently
lingers for four or five days in excruciating agony.

The Manicolans differ from almost all the other islanders in the South Sea;
they are as black as negroes, have short woolly hair, and resemble them in
their features. Their religion also is different; in every village in the
island there is a house dedicated to the Deity. At the principal chapel,
the skulls of all the people who were killed, belonging to the ship that
grounded at Whanoo, are still preserved. The natives of Tucopia,
unaccustomed to the sight of human bones, avoid, as much as possible, when
they visit the island, approaching the sacred house where the skulls are
deposited.




       *       *       *       *       *

THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.

       *       *       *       *       *


WAVERLEY NOVELS.


The _new edition_, (of which _Waverley_ has just appeared,) is, without
exception, the handsomest book of the day, in editorship, literary and
graphic embellishment or typography. Perhaps little persuasion was
necessary for a second reading of so delightful a novel as _Waverley_, but
the author's piquant notes to the present edition would alike tempt the
matter-of-fact man, and the inveterate novel reader to "begin again." The
prefatory anecdotes to _Waverley_ are extremely interesting--and the
little autobiographic sketches are so many leaves from the life of the
ingenious author. We hope to introduce a few of the notes of the Series;
but content ourselves for the present with the following: being the
original of the legend of Mrs. Grizel Oldbuck:

Mr. R----d of Bowland, a gentleman of landed property in the vale of Gala,
was prosecuted for a very considerable sum, the accumulated arrears of
teind (or tithe) for which he was said to be indebted to a noble family,
the titulars (lay impropriators of the tithes.) Mr. R----d was strongly
impressed with the belief that his father had, by a form of process
peculiar to the law of Scotland, purchased these lands from the titular,
and therefore that the present prosecution was groundless. But after an
industrious search among his father's papers, an investigation of the
public records, and a careful inquiry among all persons who had transacted
law business for his father, no evidence could be recovered to support his
defence. The period was now near at hand when he conceived the loss of his
lawsuit to be inevitable, and he had formed his determination to ride to
Edinburgh next day, and make the best bargain he could in the way of
compromise. He went to bed with this resolution, and with all the
circumstances of the case floating upon his mind, had a dream to the
following purpose. His father, who had been many years dead, appeared to
him, he thought, and asked him why he was disturbed in his mind. In dreams
men are not surprised at such apparitions. Mr. R----d thought that he had
informed his father of the cause of his distress, adding that the payment
of a considerable sum of money was the more unpleasant to him, because he
had a strong consciousness that it was not due, though he was unable to
recover any evidence in support of his belief. "You are right, my son,"
replied the paternal shade; "I did acquire right to these teinds, for
payment of which you are now prosecuted. The papers relating to the
transaction are in the hands of Mr. ----, a writer (or attorney,) who is
now retired from professional business, and resides at Inveresk, near
Edinburgh. He was a person whom I employed on that occasion for a
particular reason, but who never on any other occasion transacted business
on my account. It is very possible," pursued the vision, "that Mr. ----
may have forgotten a matter which is now of a very old date; but you may
call it to his recollection by this token, that when I came to pay his
account, there was difficulty in getting change for a Portugal piece of
gold, and that we were forced to drink out the balance at a tavern."
Mr. R----d awaked in the morning with all the words of the vision imprinted
on his mind, and thought it worth while to ride across the country to
Inveresk, instead of going straight to Edinburgh. When he came there, he
waited on the gentleman mentioned in the dream, a very old man; without
saying any thing of the vision, he inquired whether he remembered having
conducted such a matter for his deceased father. The old gentleman could
not at first bring the circumstance to his recollection, but on mention of
the Portugal piece of gold, the whole returned upon his memory; he made an
immediate search for the papers, and recovered them; so that Mr. R----d
carried to Edinburgh the documents necessary to gain the cause which he
was on the verge of losing. The author has often heard this story told by
persons who had the best access to know the facts, who were not likely
themselves to be deceived, and were certainly incapable of deception. He
cannot therefore refuse to give it credit, however extraordinary the
circumstances may appear. The circumstantial character of the information
given in the dream, takes it out of the general class of impressions of
the kind which are occasioned by the fortuitous coincidence of actual
events with our sleeping thoughts. On the other hand, few would suppose
that the laws of nature were suspended, and a special communication from
the dead to the living permitted, for the purpose of saving Mr. R----d a
certain number of hundred pounds. The author's theory is, that the dream
was only the recapitulation of information which Mr. R----d had really
received from his father while in life, but which at first he merely
recalled as a general impression that the claim was settled. It is not
uncommon for persons to recover, during sleep, the thread of ideas which
they have lost during their waking hours. It may be added, that this
remarkable circumstance was attended with bad consequences to Mr. R----d,
whose health and spirits were afterwards impaired by the attention which
he thought himself obliged to pay to the visions of the night.--_Notes to
the Antiquary._


       *       *       *       *       *

ROAD-BOOK OF FRANCE.


People who are bound for the Continent should provide themselves with the
new edition of Mr. Leigh's descriptive Road Book of France--even before
they get their passports at the French ambassador's, or if they only
_intend_ to visit Calais, Boulogne, or Dieppe--and the chances are that
they will be induced to travel beyond these places, which, in truth, give
an Englishman no more idea of France than Dovor would afford a foreigner
of England. A few years since, comparatively speaking, people only knew
their way from York to London, much less the objects on the road--now, by
the economy of guide books they may know every good inn in France, and
carry the _ichnography_ of the kingdom in their coat pocket. In the
present edition of the "Road Book of France," attention has been paid to
the description of the delightful South, especially of Bordeaux, the
mineral springs and bathing-places of the Pyrenees, the navigation of the
Rhone from Lyons to Avignon, as well as of Marseilles, Toulouse, &c., and
some of the principal towns have been illustrated with plans. Dipping into
the Itinerary from Calais to Paris, we were reminded of a curious
coincidence: Julius Caesar is supposed to have sailed from Boulogne on his
expedition against the Britons; and in later times, Napoleon Bonaparte
there prepared to carry into execution the invasion of Great Britain. But
how different have been the results!


       *       *       *       *       *

JOURNEY FROM THE BANK TO BARNES.


A lively volume with many shreds of wit and humour, and occasional patches
of "righte merrie conceite," has just fallen into our hands, and has
afforded us some very pleasant reading. There is fun in the very title,
"Personal Narrative of a Journey overland from the Bank to Barnes, &c. with
some account of the Regions east of Kensington. By an Inside Passenger.
With a Model for a Magazine, being the product of the Author's sojourn at
the village of Barnes, during five rainy days." The author is a shrewd,
clever fellow, who loves a little raillery on the follies of the day, and
joins with our friend, Popanilla in deploring the present artificial state
of society; therefore, suppose we give a few _flying_ extracts from his
tour, premising that the good people of the little villages through which
he passed, are not aware of what good things he has said of them; for his
little book would suit every parlour window from Hyde Park Corner to
Barnes.

_Brentford._

The ancient and nearly deserted barony of Brentford still contains, in its
monuments and antiquities, vestiges of former splendour. The horse-trough
opposite the "Bell and Feathers" is to the antiquarian a most particularly
interesting _morceau_; the verdure of age has defaced it in part, but
enough still remains to prove that our ancestors had made no mean
proficiency in the rustic style of architecture. The reservoir, which
contains the sparkling element so grateful to that noble animal, is
modelled from the celebrated sarcophagus in the British Museum; and the
posts which support it are evidently Doric. On the outside of it are
several nearly obliterated specimens of carving, as well as drawings in
chalk.

Nearly parallel with the horse-trough, as you go down "Maud's Rents," is
that useful, and indeed indispensible, triumph of hydraulics, the pump.
The taste and science displayed in its execution do credit to the engineer;
and the soil in which it is imbedded, being argillaceous, partially
encrusted with strontian, reflects equal honour on his geological
attainments. This pump, which you approach by three steps, is
perpendicular, and of an elegant appearance; and forms the chief ornament
of the "Rents." The handle is of wrought iron, highly polished; the snout
copper, studded with hobnails. It is neatly coated with white paint, and
bears on its front the following inscription, which I have copied for the
gratification of the curious in antiquarian research.

  This Pump was erected,
  and Well sunk,
  A.D. 1824,
  from the proceeds of a Charity Sermon,
  preached
  in the Parish Church
  of this Parish,
  by his Grace the Bishop
  of Bath and Wells.
  *  *  *
  Peter Broddupp,
  Overseer,
  Slingsby Stygle, and John Moles,
  Churchwardens.
  *  *  *
  N.B. Whoever washes Fish at this Pump
  will be prosecuted.

I cannot take leave of this interesting town without noticing the church.
It is surmounted by a neat steeple, cut in wood, in the pointed style of
architecture; on the top of which is a goodly key, to indicate the
wind,--which, the inhabitants remark, has blown due south for the last ten
years. The porch, which is a curious specimen of the Maeso-Gothic, is
rather hurt by the simplicity of the scrapers, which, being merely
segments of iron hoops, do not harmonize with the otherwise elaborate
approach.

_Tossbury._

The demesne of Tossbury (by Camden written Tossbery) was anciently a grant
in feoffment to the College of Physicians by King John. On the spot now
occupied by the burial grounds formerly stood their college; and here they
flourished until the population, originally abundant, diminished so
alarmingly, as to induce them to remove to Warwick Lane.

Mr. P. (the landlord of the inn,) ever ready to shew his guests what at
that village are esteemed great curiosities, was indefatigable in
explaining the various instances in which he has made science subservient
to utility. The staircase, as far as the great dining-room, he has, at
considerable expense, macadamized; which, provided it is kept well watered,
and scrapers attached to the chamber-doors, our worthy host assured us,
was infinitely preferable to marble. He begged us to be under no
apprehension as to the dampness of our beds, as they were warmed by a
steam-apparatus of his own contrivance. He always keeps a Leyden jar,
about the size of a boiler, ready charged, wherewith he kills geese,
turkeys, and even lamb; which, he affirms, is a much less shocking method
of neutralizing the vital spark than the vulgar butchery of twisting and
sticking. He has lost three of his fingers, through incautiously handling
a self-acting rat-trap of his own construction; and had his left eye blown
out, while investigating the exact interval between combustion and
explosion.

       *       *       *       *       *

I found a difference of about half an hour between the dial of Putney
Church and my watch, which a young gentleman "intended for one of the
universities" accounted for from difference of latitude. He likewise
explained a phenomenon, which rather startled us, near Kew. We saw about
half-a-dozen cows galloping furiously towards the river's brink; flirting
their tails, and, indeed, conducting themselves with a vivacity perfectly
inconsistent with the acknowledged sobriety of that useful animal. He
calmed our apprehensions, by informing us they were intended for the East
Indies. Every other day they are fed with best rock-salt, instead of
green-meat; which, by chemical agency, renders them fat and fit to be
killed, and sent on ship-board at a moment's notice; the trouble and delay
of salting down being totally unnecessary. These cows, he assured us, had
just finished their thirst-inducing meal.

Near Hill's boat-shed is the patent Philanthropical Hay-tosser, a
stupendous machine, invented expressly to prevent the degradation and
slavery to which thousands of our fellow men are subjected during
hay-harvest. It must gratify every friend to the amelioration of his
species to learn, that the humane intention of the inventer is likely to
be realized, as there are already three thousand Irishmen out of employ.

Here we must halt with our tourist. The result of his lucubrations at
Barnes--a Model for a Magazine will be found very serviceable to all
prospectus writers, and furnish skeleton articles for a whole volume. We
have been amused with the pleasantries of the author, and in return we
thank him, and recommend his little book to our readers.



       *       *       *       *       *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

       *       *       *       *       *


CLASSICAL CORRECTIONS.


  In a neat little cottage, some five miles from town,
  Lived a pretty young maiden, by name Daphne Brown,
    Like a butterfly, pretty and airy:
  In a village hard by lived a medical prig,
  With a rubicund nose, and a full-bottomed wig,
    Apollo, the apothecary.

  He, being crop sick of his bachelor life,
  Resolved, in his old days, to look for a wife--
    (_Nota bene_--Thank Heaven, I'm not married):
  He envied his neighbours their curly-poled brats,
  (All swarming, as if in a village of Pats,)
    And sighed that so long he had tarried.

  Having heard of fair Daphne, the village coquette,
  As women to splendour were never blind yet,
    He resolved with his grandeur to strike her;
  So he bought a new buggy, where, girt in a wreath,
  Were his arms, pills, and pestle--this motto beneath--
    _"Ego opifer per orbem dicor."_

  To the village he drove, sought young Daphne's old sire,
  Counted gold by rouleaus, and bank notes by the quire,
    And promised the old buck a share in't,
  If his daughter he'd give--for the amorous fool
  Thought of young ladies' hearts and affections the rule
    Apparently rests with a parent.

  Alas! his old mouth may long water in vain,
  Who tries by this method a mistress to gain--
    A _miss_ is the sure termination:
  For a maiden's delight is to plague the old boy,
  And to think sixty-five not the period for joy;
    Alas! all the sex are vexation.

  Daphne Brown had two eyes with the tenderest glances!
  Her brain had been tickled by reading romances,
    And those compounds of nonsense called novels,
  Where Augustus and Ellen, or fair Isabel,
  With Romeo, in sweet little cottages dwell:
   _Sed meo periclo_, read hovels.

  She had toiled through Clarissa; Camilla could quote;
  Knew the raptures of Werter and Charlotte by rote;
    Thought Smith and Sir Walter ecstatic;
  And as for the novels of Miss Lefanu,
  She dog's-eared them till the whole twenty looked blue;
    And studied 'The Monk' in the attic.

  When her sire introduced our Apollo, he found
  The maiden in torrents of sympathy drowned--
    "Floods of tears" is too trite and too common:
  Her eyes were quite swelled--her lips pouting and pale;
  For she just had been reading that heartbreaking tale,
    "Annabelle, or the Sufferings of Woman."

  Apollo, I'll swear, had more courage than I,
  To accost a young maid with a _drop in her eye_;
    I'd as soon catch a snake or a viper:
  She, while wiping her tears, gives Apollo some wipes;
  And when a young lady has set up her pipes,
    Her lover will soon pay the piper.

  Papa locked her up--but the very next night,
  With a cornet of horse, the young lady took flight;
    To Apollo she left this apology--
  "That, were she to spend with an old man her life,
  She would gain, by the penance she'd bear as a wife,
    A place in the next martyrology."

  Apollo gave chase, but was destined to fail;
  The female had safely been lodged in the mail,
    Now flying full speed to the borders;
  So the doctor, compelled his sad fate to endure,
  Came back to his shop, commissioned to cure
    All disorders but Cupid's disorders.

_Monthly Magazine._


       *       *       *       *       *

BAMBOROUGH CASTLE.

The origin of this princely establishment may be new to our readers:--One
of the owners of the castle, John Forster, member for Northumberland,
having joined in the rebellion, and being general of the English part of
the rebel army, of course his estates, then valued at 1,314 _l_. _per
annum_, were forfeited; Crewe, bishop of Durham, purchased them from the
government commissioners, and settled the whole, by his will, on
charitable uses. Under a clause which left the residue of the rents to
such charitable uses as his trustees might appoint, the "princely
establishment of Bamborough" has arisen--where

  "Charity hath fixed her chosen seat;
    And Pity, at the dark and stormy hour
  Of midnight, when the moon is hid on high,
    Keeps her love watch upon the topmost tower,
  And turns her ear to each expiring cry,
    Blest if her aid some fainting wretch might save,
    And snatch him, cold and speechless, from the grave."

BOWLES.


The charitable intentions of a testator have never, in any instance, been
better fulfilled than this; the residuary rents, owing to the great
increase of rental in the Forster estates, became considerably the most
important part of the bequest; and the trustees, who are restricted to
five in number, all clergymen, and of whom the rector of Lincoln College
is always one, being unfettered by any positive regulations, have so
discharged their trust as to render Bamborough Castle the most extensively
useful, as well as the most munificent, of all our eleemosynary
institutions. There are two free-schools there, both on the Madras system,
one for boys, the other for girls; and thirty of the poorest girls are
clothed, lodged, and boarded, till, at the age of sixteen, they are put
out to service, with a good stock of clothing, and a present of 2_l_.
12_s_. 6_d_. each; and at the end of the first year, if the girl has
behaved well, another guinea is given her, with a Bible, a Prayer-book,
the Whole Duty of Man, and Secker's Lectures on the Catechism. There is a
library in the castle, to which Dr. Sharp, one of the trustees, bequeathed,
in 1792, the whole of his own collection, valued at more than 800_l_.; the
books are lent gratuitously to any householder, of good report, residing
within twenty miles of Bamborough, and to any clergyman, Roman Catholic
priest, or dissenting minister within the said distance. There is an
infirmary also in the castle, of which the average annual number of
in-patients is about thirty-five--of out-patients above one thousand. There
is an ample granary, from whence, in time of scarcity, the poor are
supplied on low terms. Twice a week the poor are supplied with meal, at
reduced prices, and with groceries at prime cost; and the average number
of persons who partake this benefit is about one thousand three hundred in
ordinary times, in years of scarcity very many more. To sailors on that
perilous coast Bamborough Castle is what the Convent of St. Bernard is to
travellers in the Alps. Thirty beds are kept for shipwrecked sailors; a
patrol for above eight miles (being the length of the manor) is kept along
the coast every stormy night; signals are made; a life-boat is in
readiness at Holy Island, and apparatus of every kind is ready for
assisting seamen in distress;--wrecked goods are secured and stored, the
survivors are relieved, the bodies that are cast on shore are decently
interred.

_Quarterly Review._



       *       *       *       *       *

FINE ARTS


THE DIORAMA.


On the day of the unfortunate destruction of the Oxford Street Diorama and
Bazaar, by fire, two new views were opened at the Diorama in the Regent's
Park. These are the _Interior of St. Peter's at Rome_, and the _Village of
Thiers_.

We have so often spoken in terms of the highest commendation of the
Regent's Park Diorama, that we hardly know in what set of words to point
out the beauties of these new views, the merits of which must not alter
our meed of praise, however the subjects may its details. The Interior of
St. Peter's is by M. Bouton. The point of view is at the east entry,
opposite to the choir; the reader, perhaps, not being aware that the choir
in this cathedral is situated differently from all others, being at the
west end. So beautiful are the proportions of the cathedral itself, that
its vastness does not strike at first sight, and this effect is admirably
preserved in the Diorama. We think we could point out a few inaccuracies
in the drawing; but the projections, capitals of the columns, and some of
the medallion portraits which ornament them, are so well painted, that we
can scarcely believe ourselves looking on a flat surface. Again, the
emmet-like figures of the distant congregation are admirable illustrations
of the vastness of the building; and above all, the flood of light shed
from the lantern of the dome is a perfect triumph of art.

The other view is the French Village of Thiers in the department of the
Puy de Doue, on the bank of the little River Durolle, which is actually
made to flow, or rather trickle over large stones; whilst smoke ascends
from the chimney of an adjoining cottage. As a romantic picture of still
life, its merits can scarcely be too highly spoken of, and when we say it
is quite equal to _Unterseen_, by the same artist, and engraved in our
last volume, we hope our readers will not be long ere they judge for
themselves. We could have lingered for an hour in the contemplation of
this peaceful picture, with the devotional interior of St. Peter's--and in
contrasting them with the turmoil of the Great Town out of which we had
just stepped to view this little _Creation_ of art.



       *       *       *       *       *

THE GATHERER

  A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
                            SHAKSPEARE.

       *       *       *       *       *


LINES


_Written impromptu, by Sir Lumley Skeffington, Bart. in the Theatre Royal,
Drury Lane, at the Benefit of Miss Foote, on Wednesday, May 10, 1826, the
last night of her engagement._


  Maria departs!--'tis a sentence of dread,
  For the Graces turn pale, and the Fates droop their head!
  In mercy to breasts that tumultuously burn,
  Dwell no more on departure--but speak of return.
  Since she goes, when the buds are just ready to burst,
  In expanding its leaves, let the Willow be first.
  We here shall no longer find beauties in May;
  It cannot be Spring, when Maria's away:
  If vernal at all, 'tis an April appears,
  For the Blossom flies off, in the midst of our tears.


       *       *       *       *       *

THE KING'S SPEECH IN 993.


Sharon Turner, in his "History of the Anglo-Saxons," vol. iv. says, "The
King presided at the witena-gemots, and sometimes, perhaps, always
addressed them." In 993, we have this account of a royal speech. The King
says, in a charter which recites what had passed at one of their meetings,
"I benignantly addressed to them salutary and pacific words. I admonished
all--that those things which were worthy of the Creator, and serviceable
to the health of my soul, or to my royal dignity, and which should prevail
as proper for the English people, they might, with the Lord's assistance,
discuss in common." P.T.W.


       *       *       *       *       *

A very common excuse set up by economists for being too late for dinner is,
"There was not a coach to be found."--Uncalculating and improvident
selfish idiot, not to send for one till the very last moment; you save
nothing by it, and spoil your friend's dinner, in order to save yourself
sixpence. Suppose you have a mile and a half to go, the fare is one
shilling and sixpence; you will be about eighteen minutes going that
distance, and for that sum you may detain the coach forty-four minutes.
Always call a coach a quarter of an hour before you want it--i.e. if you
do not wish to be too late.



       *       *       *       *       *

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