



Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.





THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION

VOL. XIII. NO. 360.] SATURDAY, MARCH 14, 1829. [PRICE 2d.

       *       *       *       *       *




Grand Entrance to Hyde Park.

[Illustration: _Frieze_.]




GRAND ENTRANCE TO HYDE PARK.

The great Lord Burleigh says, "A realm gaineth more by one year's peace
than by ten years' war;" and the architectural triumphs which are rising
in every quarter of the metropolis are strong confirmation of this
maxim.

One of these triumphs is represented in the annexed engraving, viz. the
grand entrance to Hyde Park, erected from the designs of Decimus Burton,
Esq. It consists of a screen of handsome fluted Ionic columns, with
three carriage entrance archways, two foot entrances, a lodge, &c. The
extent of the whole frontage is about 107 feet. The central entrance
has a bold projection: the entablature is supported by four columns;
and the volutes of the capitals of the outside column on each side
of the gateway are formed in an angular direction, so as to exhibit two
complete faces to view. The two side gateways, in their elevations,
present two insulated Ionic columns, flanked by antae. All these
entrances are finished by a blocking, the sides of the central one being
decorated with a beautiful frieze, representing a naval and military
triumphal procession, which our artist has copied and represented in
distinct engravings. This frieze was designed by Mr. Henning, jun., son
of Mr. Henning, so well known for his admirable models of the Elgin
marbles. It possesses great classical merit, and the model was exhibited
last season in the sculpture-room of the Suffolk-street Gallery.

The _gates_ were manufactured by Messrs. Bramah. They are of iron,
bronzed, and fixed or hung to the piers by rings of gun-metal. The
design consists of a beautiful arrangement of the Greek honeysuckle
ornament; the parts being well defined, and the raffles of the leaves
brought out in a most extraordinary manner. The hanging of the gates is
also very ingenious.

Mr. Soane's proposed entrances to Piccadilly and St. James's and Hyde
Parks, are generally considered superior to those that have been
adopted. The park entrances were to consist of two triumphal arches
connected with each other by a colonnade and arches stretching across
Piccadilly. The same ingenious architect likewise designed a new palace
at the top of Constitution Hill, from which to the House of Lords the
King should pass Buckingham House, Carlton House, a splendid Waterloo
and Trafalgar monument, a fine triumphal arch, the Privy Council Office,
Board of Trade, and the new law courts.

       *       *       *       *       *




LINES

_On the origin of the application of the name of the "Fleur de
Souvenance," (modern "Forget-me-not,") to the Myosotis Scorpiodis._

(_For the Mirror._)


  A gallant knight and a lady bright
    Walk'd by a crystal lake;
  The twin'd oaks made a grateful shade
    Above the fangled brake,
  While the trembling leaves of aspen trees
    A murmuring music make.

  And as they spoke, round them echoes woke
    To tales of love and glory;
  The knight was brave, though of love the slave,
    And the dame lov'd gallant story--
  Proudly he told deeds gentle and bold,
    Of warriors dead or hoary.

  Like babe at rest on its mother's breast,
    On that an island lay--
  So still and fair reigned Nature there--
    So bright the glist'ring spray,
  You might have thought the scene had been wrought
    By spell of faun or fay.

  On the island's edge, midst tangled sedge,
    Lay a wreath of wild flow'rs blue--
  The broad flag-leaf was their sweet relief,
    When the heat too fervid grew;
  And the willow's shade a shelter made,
    When stormy tempests blew.

  And as they stood, the faithful flood
    Gave back ev'ry line and trace
  Of earth below and heaven above,
    And their own forms gallant grace--
  For forms more fair than that lovely pair
    Ne'er shone on its liquid face.

  "I would a flower from that bright bower
    Some nymph would waft to me--
  For in my eyes a dearer prize
    Than glitt'ring gem 'twould be--
  For its changeless blue seems emblem true
    Of love's own constancy."

  The maiden spake, and no more the lake
    In slumb'ring stillness lay,
  For from the side of his destin'd bride
    The knight has pass'd away;
  In vain the maid's soft words essay'd
    His rash pursuit to stay.

  He has reach'd the tower, and pluck'd the flower.
    And turn'd from the verdant spot.
  Ah, hapless knight! some Naiad bright
    Woo'd thee to her coral grot;
  And forbids that more to touch that shore
    Shall ever be thy lot.

  Vainly he tried to gain the side,
    Where knelt his lady-love;
  Flagg'd every limb, his eyes grew dim,
    But still the spirit strove.
  One effort more--he flings to shore
    The flow'r so dear to prove.
  'Tis past! 'tis past! that look his last,
    That fond sad glance of love
  The bubbling wave his farewell gave
    In the moan, "Forget me not."

D.A.H


The above incident occurred in the time of Edward IV.

       *       *       *       *       *


HAVER BREAD.

(_To the Editor of the Mirror._)


In the MIRROR, No. 358, the article headed "Memorable Days," the writer,
in that part of which the _Avver Bread_ is treated of, says it is
made of oats leavened and kneaded into a large, thin, round cake, which
is placed upon a girdle over the fire; adding, that he is totally at a
loss for a definition of the word Avver; that he has sometimes thought
avver, means oaten; which I think, correct, it being very likely a
corruption of the French, avoine, oats; introduced among many others,
into the Scottish language, during the great intimacy which formerly
existed between France and Scotland; in which latter country a great
many words were introduced from the former, which are still in use; such
as gabart, a large boat, or lighter, from the French gabarre; bawbee,
baspiece, a small copper coin; vennell, a lane, or narrow street, which
still retains its original pronunciation and meaning. Enfiler la vennel;
a common figurative expression for running away is still in use in
France. Apropos of vennell, Dr. Stoddard, in a "Pedestrian Tour through
the Land of Cakes," when a young man, says he could not trace its
meaning in any language, (I speak from memory) also made the same
observation where I was; being at that time on intimate terms with the
doctor, I pointed out to him its derivation from the Latin into the
French, and thence, probably, into the Scotch; the embryo L.L.D. stared,
and seemed chagrined, at receiving such information from a

CREOLE.

P.S. In no part of Great Britain, I believe, is oaten bread so much used
as in Scotland; from whence the term, "The Land of Cakes is derived." In
some parts of France, _Pain d'avoine_ has been in use in my time.

       *       *       *       *       *


EPITOME OF THE CRUSADES.

(_For the Mirror_.)


The first Crusade[1] to the Holy Land was undertaken by numerous
Christian princes, who gained Jerusalem after it had been in possession
of the Saracens four hundred and nine years. Godfrey, of Boulogne, was
then chosen king by his companions in arms; but he had not long enjoyed
his new dignity, before he had occasion to march out against a great
army of Turks and Saracens, whom he overthrew, and killed one hundred
thousand of their men, besides taking much spoil. Shortly after this
victory, a pestilence happened, of which multitudes died; and the
contagion reaching Godfrey, the first Christian King of Jerusalem,
he also expired, on the 18th of July, 1100, having scarcely reigned
a full year.

Godfrey's successors, the Baldwins, defeated the Turks in many
engagements. In the reign of Baldwin III., however, the Christians lost
Edessa, a circumstance which affected Pope Eugenius III. to such a
degree, that he prevailed on Conrad III., Emperor of Germany, to relieve
his brethren in Syria. In the year 1146, therefore, Conrad marched
through Greece, and soon afterwards encountered the Turkish army, which
he routed; he then proceeded to Iconium, the principal seat of the Turks
in Lesser Asia; but, for want of provisions and health, was compelled
to relinquish his design of taking that city, and to return home. Much
about the same period, Lewis VIII., of France, made an expedition to
the Holy Land, but was wholly unsuccessful in his attempts against the
enemy. Notwithstanding these failures, King Baldwin, relying on his
own strength, gained possession of Askalon, and defeated the Turks in
numerous actions. Previous to his death, which was caused by poison,
in 1163, he was the victorious sovereign of Jerusalem and the greatest
part of Syria.

During the reign of Baldwin IV., Saladin, Sultan of Egypt, invaded
Palestine, and took several towns, notwithstanding the valour of
the Christians. In the succeeding reign of King Guy, however, the
Christians, still unfortunate, received a _decisive blow_, which
tended to the decline of their independence in the Holy Land; for, among
other places of importance, Saladin made a capture of Jerusalem, and
took its king prisoner. When the conqueror entered the holy city, he
profaned every sacred place, save the Temple of the Sepulchre, (which
the Christians redeemed with an immense sum of money,) and drove the
Latin Christians from their abodes, who were only allowed to carry what
they could hastily collect on their backs, either to Tripoly, Antioch,
or Tyre, the only three places which then remained in the Christians'
possession. All the monuments were demolished, except those of our
Saviour, King Godfrey, and Baldwin I.[2] The city was yielded to the
captors on the 2nd of October, 1187, after the Christians had possessed
it about eighty-nine years.

These calamitous transactions in Palestine greatly alarmed all Europe,
and several princes speedily resolved to oppose the career of the
oppressors, and to leave no means untried of regaining the kingdom of
Jerusalem. In furtherance of this design, the Emperor Frederic marched
into Palestine with a powerful army, and defeated the Turks near
Melitena; he afterwards met them near Comogena, where he also routed
them, but was unhappily killed in the action. Some time after this,
King Philip, of France, and Richard I., of England, engaged in a crusade
for the relief of the Christians. Philip arrived first, and proceeded
to Ptolemais, which King Guy, having obtained his liberty, was then
besieging. King Richard, in his passage, was driven with his fleet upon
the coast of Cyprus, but was not permitted to land; this so highly
offended him, that he landed his whole army by force, and soon over-ran
the island. He was at length opposed by the king of Cyprus, whom he took
prisoner, and carried in chains to Ptolemais, where he was welcomed with
great rejoicings by the besiegers, who stood in much need of assistance.
It would he superfluous to relate here the particulars of the siege; let
it suffice to say, that after a general assault had been given, a breach
was made, so that the assailants were enabled to enter the city, which
Saladin surrendered to them upon articles, on the 12th of July, 1191.
King Richard here obtained the title of _Coeur de Lion_, for having
taken down Duke Leopold's standard, that was first fixed in the breach,
and placed his own in its stead.

After the taking of Ptolemais, King Philip and many other princes
returned home, leaving King Richard in Palestine to prosecute the war in
concert with Guy, whom Richard, in a short time afterwards, persuaded to
accept of the crown of Cyprus, in lieu of his pretences to Jerusalem.
By these crafty means, Richard caused himself to be proclaimed King of
Jerusalem; but while he was preparing to besiege that city, he received
news that the French were about to invade England. He was therefore
compelled to conclude a peace with Saladin, not very advantageous to
Christendom, and to return to Europe. But meeting with bad weather, he
was driven on the coast of Histria; and, while endeavouring to travel
through the country in the habit of a templar, was taken prisoner
by Duke Leopold, of Austria, who became his enemy at the siege of
Ptolemais. The duke sold him for forty thousand pounds to the emperor,
Henry VI., who soon afterwards had a hundred thousand pounds for his
ransom.

About the same period, Sultan Saladin, the most formidable enemy the
Christians ever encountered, died; an event which caused Pope Celestine
to prevail on the emperor, Henry VI., of Germany, to make a new
expedition against the Turks, who were in consequence defeated; but
the emperor's general, the Duke of Saxony, being killed, and the
emperor himself dying soon afterwards, the Germans returned home
without accomplishing the object of their expedition. They had no sooner
departed than the Turks, in revenge, nearly drove the Christians from
the Holy Land, and took all the strong towns which the Crusaders had
gained, excepting Tyre and Ptolemais. In 1199, a fleet was fitted out
at the instigation of Pope Innocent III. against the infidels. On this
occasion, the Christians, notwithstanding their strenuous exertions,
failed of taking Jerusalem, though several other important places were
delivered to them.

In the year 1228, Frederic, Emperor of Germany, set out from Brundusium
to Palestine, took Jerusalem, which the enemy had left in a desolate
condition, and caused himself to be proclaimed king. But, after this
conquest, he was obliged to return to his own country, where his
presence was required. The Turks immediately assembled a prodigious army
for regaining the Holy City, which they ultimately took, putting the
German garrison to the sword, in the year 1234; since which time, the
Christian powers, weary of these useless expeditions, have made no
considerable effort to possess it.

The Christians were entirely driven from Palestine and Syria in the year
1291, about one hundred and ninety-two years after the capture of
Jerusalem by Godfrey of Boulogne.

G.W.N.

    [1] An account of the original _instigator_ of the Crusades
        will be found in vol. viii. of the MIRROR, page 232.

    [2] The Turks generally show some regard to real piety and valour.

       *       *       *       *       *


SHAKSPEARE.--A FRAGMENT.

(_For the Mirror._)


  The empty passions of the angry world,
  The loves of heroes, the despair of maids,
  The rage of kings, of beggars and of slaves,
  Shakspeare alone attun'd to song.--The rest essay'd.
  Laureate of bards! thyself unsung
  Would stamp us reckless.

CYMBELINE.

       *       *       *       *       *




RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.

       *       *       *       *       *


REGAL TABLET.

(_Continued from page 111._)


EDWARD II. began his reign 7th July, 1307, ended 25th Jan. 1327.

_Popes_.

Clement V.,           1305.
John XXII.,           1316.

_Emperor of the East._

Andronicus II.,       1283.

_Emperors of the West_.

Albert I.,            1278.
Henry VII.,           1308.
Frederic III.,        1314.

_France_.
Philip IV.,           1285.
Louis X.,             1314.
Charles IV.           1322.

_Scotland_.
Robert Bruce,         1306.

       *       *       *       *       *

EDWARD III. began his reign 25th Jan. 1327, ended 21st June, 1377.

_Popes_.

John XXII.,           1316.
Benedict XII.,        1334.
Clement VI.,          1342.
Innocent VI.,         1352.
Urban V.,             1362.
Gregory XI.,          1370.

_Emperors of the East_.

Andronicus II.,       1283.
Andronicus III.,      1332.
John V.,              1341.
John VI.,             1355.

_Emperors of the West_.

Frederic III.,        1314.
Louis IV.,            1330.
Edward Baliol,        1332.
David II. (again),    1342.
Charles IV.,          1347.
Robert II.,           1370.

_France_.

Charles IV.,          1322.
Philip VI.,           1328.
John I.,              1355.
Charles V.,           1364.

_Scotland_.

Robert Bruce,         1306.
David II.,            1330.
Edward Baliol,        1332.
David II. (again),    1342.
Robert II.,           1370.

       *       *       *       *       *

RICHARD II. began his reign 21st June, 1377, ended 29th Sept. 1399.

_Popes_.

Gregory XI.,          1370.
Urban VI.,            1378.
Boniface IX.,         1389.

_Emperors of the East._

John VI.,             1355.
Emanuel II.,          1391.

_Emperors of the West_.

Charles IV.,          1347.
Weneslaus,            1378.

_France_.

Charles V.,           1364.
Charles VI.,          1380.

_Scotland_.

Robert II.,           1370.
Robert III.,          1390.

       *       *       *       *       *

(_House of Lancaster._)

HENRY IV. began his reign 29th Sept. 1399, ended 20th March, 1413.

_Popes_.

Boniface IX.,         1389.
Innocent VII.,        1404.

_Emperors of the West_.

Weneslaus, 1378.

_Popes_.

Gregory XII.          1406.
Alexander V.          1409.
John XXIII.           1410.

_Emperor of the East_.

Emanuel II.,          1391.

_Emperors of the West_.

Robert le Pet,        1400.
Sigismund,            1410.

_France_.

Charles VI.,          1380.

_Scotland_.

Robert III.,          1390.

       *       *       *       *       *

HENRY V. began his reign 20th March, 1413, ended 31st August, 1422.

_Popes_.

John XXIII.           1410.
Martin V.,            1417.

_Emperor of the East_.

Emanuel II.,          1391.

_Emperor of the West_.

Sigismund,            1410.

_France_.

Charles VI.,          1380.
Charles VII.          1422.

_Scotland_.

Robert III.,          1390.

       *       *       *       *       *

HENRY VI. began his reign 31st August, 1422, ended 4th March, 1461.

_Popes_.

Martin V.,            1417.
Eugenius IV.          1431.
Nicholas V.,          1447.
Galixus III.          1455.
Pius II.,             1458.

_Emperors of the East_.

Emanuel II.,          1391.
John VII.,            1426.
Constantine III.,
  last emperor        1448.

_Emperors of the West_.

Sigismund,            1410.
Albert II.,           1438.
Frederic IV.,         1440.

_France_.

Charles VII.          1422.
Louis XI.,            1440.

_Scotland_.

Robert III.,          1390.
James I.,             1424.
James II.,            1437.
James III.,           1440.

       *       *       *       *       *

(_House of York._)

EDWARD IV. began his reign 4th March, 1461, ended 9th April, 1483.

_Popes_.

Pius II.,             1458.
Paul II.,             1464.
Sixtus IV.,           1471.

_Emperor of the West_.

Frederic IV.,         1440.

_France_.

Louis XI.,            1440.

_Scotland_.

James III.,           1440.

       *       *       *       *       *

EDWARD V. began his reign 9th April, 1483, ended 22nd June, 1483.

Contemporaries as the last reign.

       *       *       *       *       *

RICHARD III. began his reign 22nd June, 1483, ended 22nd August, 1485.

Contemporaries again, as before.

       *       *       *       *       *

(_Lancaster and York united._)

HENRY VII. began his reign 22nd August, 1485, ended 22nd April, 1509.

_Popes._

Innocent VIII.,       1484.
Alexander VI.         1492.
Pius III.,            1593.
Julius II.,           1503.

_Emperors of Germany._

Frederic IV.,         1440.
Maximilian I.         1493.

_France._

Charles VIII.         1485.
Louis XII.,           1498.

_Scotland._

James III.,           1460.
James IV.,            1489.

       *       *       *       *       *

HENRY VIII. began his reign 22nd April, 1509, ended 28th Jan. 1547.

_Popes._

Julius II.,           1503.
Leo X.,               1513.
Adrian VI.,           1521.
Clement VII.          1523.
Paul III.,            1534.

_Emperors of Germany._

Maximilian I.         1493.
Charles V.,           1519.

_France._

Louis XII.,           1498.
Francis I.,           1515.
Henry II.,            1547.

_Scotland._

James IV.,            1489.
James V.,             1514.
Mary,                 1542.

       *       *       *       *       *

EDWARD VI. began his reign 28th Jan. 1547, ended 6th July, 1553.

_Popes._

Paul III.,            1534.
Julius III.,          1550.

_Emperor of Germany._

Charles V.,           1519.

_France._

Henry II.,            1547.

_Scotland._

Mary,                 1542.

       *       *       *       *       *

MARY began her reign 6th July, 1553, ended 17th Nov. 1558.

_Popes._

Julius III.,          1550.
Marcellus II.         1555.
Paul IV.,             1555.

_Emperors of Germany._

Charles V.,           1519.
Ferdinand,            1556.

And the other contemporary princes as in the last reign.

       *       *       *       *       *

ELIZABETH began her reign 17th Nov. 1558, ended 24th March, 1603.

_Popes._

Paul IV.,             1555.
Pius IV.,             1559.
Pius V.,              1565.
Gregory XIII.,        1572.
Sixtus V.,            1585.
Urban VII.,           1590.
Gregory XIV.,         1590.

_Emperors of Germany._

Ferdinand I.,         1556.
Maximilian II.        1564.
Rodolphus II.         1576.

_France._

Henry II.,            1547.
Francis II.,          1559.
Charles IX.,          1560.
Henry III.,           1574.
Henry IV.,            1589.

_Popes._

Innocent IX.          1501.
Clement VIII.,        1592.

_Scotland._

Mary,                 1542.
James VI.,            1567.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Union of the two crowns of England and Scotland._

JAMES I. began his reign 24th March, 1603, ended 27th March, 1625.

_Popes._

Clement VIII.,        1592.
Leo IX.,              1605.
Paul III.,            1605.
Gregory XV.           1621.
Urban VIII.           1623.

_Emperors of Germany._

Rodolphus II.         1576.
Matthias I.,          1612.
Ferdinand III.        1619.

_France._

Henry IV.,            1589.
Louis XIII.,          1610.

_Spain & Portugal._

Philip III.,          1507.
Philip IV.,           1620.

_Denmark._

Christian IV.         1588.

_Sweden._

Sigismund,            1592.
Charles IX.,          1606.
Gustavus II.          1611.

       *       *       *       *       *

CHARLES I. began his reign 27th March, 1625, beheaded 30th Jan. 1648.

_Popes._

Urban VIII.           1623.
Innocent X.,          1644.

_Emperors of Germany._

Ferdinand II.         1619.
Ferdinand III.        1637.

_France._

Louis XIII.,          1610.
Louis XIV.,           1643.

_Spain & Portugal._

Philip IV.,           1620.

_Portugal only._

John IV.,             1640.

_Denmark._

Christian IV.         1583.
Frederic III.         1648.

_Sweden._

Gustavus II.          1611.
Christiana,           1633.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Inter-regnum and Usurpation under

OLIVER CROMWELL, from 30th Jan. 1648, to 29th May, 1660.

_Popes._

Innocent X.,          1644.
Alexander VII.,       1655.

_Emperors of Germany._

Ferdinand III.,       1637.
Leopold I.,           1658.

_France._

Louis XIV.,           1643.

_Spain._

Philip IV.,           1620.

_Portugal._

John IV.,             1640.
Alonzo VI.,           1656.

_Denmark._

Frederic III.         1646.

_Sweden._

Christiana,           1633.
Charles X.,           1653.

       *       *       *       *       *

_The remainder of this very useful Tablet, which has been compiled
by a Correspondent, expressly for our pages, will be found in the
Supplement published with the present No._

       *       *       *       *       *




THE ANECDOTE GALLERY.

       *       *       *       *       *

ANECDOTES OF A DIANA MONKEY.

_By Mrs. Bowdich._


An old ship companion of mine was a native of the Gold Coast, and was of
the Diana species. He had been purchased by the cook of the vessel in
which I sailed from Africa, and was considered his exclusive property.
Jack's place then was close to the cabooce; but as his education
progressed, he was gradually allowed an increase of liberty, till at
last he enjoyed the range of the whole ship, except the cabin. I had
embarked with more than a mere womanly aversion to monkeys, it was
absolute antipathy; and although I often laughed at Jack's freaks, still
I kept out of his way, till a circumstance brought with it a closer
acquaintance, and cured me of my dislike. Our latitude was three degrees
south, and we only proceeded by occasional tornadoes, the intervals of
which were filled up by dead calms and bright weather; when these
occurred during the day, the helm was frequently lashed, and all the
watch went below. On one of these occasions I was sitting alone on the
deck, and reading intently, when, in an instant, something jumped upon
my shoulders, twisted its tale round my neck, and screamed close to my
ears. My immediate conviction that it was Jack scarcely relieved me: but
there was no help; I dared not cry for assistance, because I was afraid
of him, and dared not obey the next impulse, which was to thump him off,
for the same reason, I therefore became civil from necessity, and from
that moment Jack and I entered into an alliance. He gradually loosened
his hold, looked at my face, examined my hands and rings with the most
minute attention, and soon found the biscuit which lay by my side. When
I liked him well enough to profit by his friendship, he became a
constant source of amusement. Like all other nautical monkeys, he was
fond of pulling off the men's caps as they slept, and throwing them into
the sea; of knocking over the parrots' cages to drink the water as it
trickled along the deck, regardless of the occasional gripe he received;
of taking the dried herbs out of the tin mugs in which the men were
making tea of them; of dexterously picking out the pieces of biscuit
which were toasting between the bars of the grate; of stealing the
carpenter's tools; in short, of teasing every thing and every body: but
he was also a first-rate _equestrian_. Whenever the pigs were let
out to take a run on deck, he took his station behind a cask, whence he
leaped on the back of one of his steeds as it passed. Of course the
speed was increased, and the nails he stuck in to keep himself on,
produced a squeaking: but Jack was never thrown, and became so fond of
the exercise, that he was obliged to be shut up whenever the pigs were
at liberty. Confinement was the worst punishment he could receive, and
whenever threatened with that, or any other, he would cling to me for
protection. At night, when about to be sent to bed in an empty hencoop,
he generally hid himself under my shawl, and at last never suffered any
one but myself to put him to rest. He was particularly jealous of the
other monkeys on board, who were all smaller than himself, and put two
out of his way. The first feat of the kind was performed in my presence:
he began by holding out his paw, and making a squeaking noise, which the
other evidently considered as an invitation; the poor little thing
crouched to him most humbly; but Jack seized him by the neck, hopped off
to the side of the vessel, and threw him into the sea. We cast out a
rope immediately, but the monkey was too frightened to cling to it, and
we were going too fast to save him by any other means. Of course, Jack
was flogged and scolded, at which he was very penitent; but the
deceitful rogue, at the end of three days, sent another victim to the
same destiny. But his spite against his own race was manifested at
another time in a very original way. The men had been painting the
ship's side with a streak of white, and upon being summoned to dinner,
left their brushes and paint on deck. Unknown to Jack, I was seated
behind the companion door, and saw the whole transaction; he called a
little black monkey to him, who, like the others, immediately crouched
to his superior, when he seized him by the nape of the neck with one
paw, took the brush, dripping with paint, with the other, and covered
him with white from head to foot. Both the man at the helm and myself
burst into a laugh, upon which Jack dropped his victim, and scampered up
the rigging. The unhappy little beast began licking himself, but I
called the steward, who washed him so well with turpentine, that all
injury was prevented; but during our bustle Jack was peeping with his
black nose through the bars of the maintop, apparently enjoying the
confusion. For three days he persisted in remaining aloft; no one could
catch him, he darted with such rapidity from rope to rope; at length,
impelled by hunger, he dropped unexpectedly from some height on my
knees, as if for refuge, and as he had thus confided in me, I could not
deliver him up to punishment.

The only way in which I could control his tricks was by showing him to
the panther on board, which excited his fears very strongly. I used to
hold him up by his tail, and the instant he saw the panther he would
become perfectly stiff, shut his eyes, and pretend to be dead. When I
moved away, he would relax his limbs, and open one eye very cautiously;
but if he caught a glimpse of the panther's cage, the eyes were quickly
closed, and he resumed the rigidity of death. After four months' sojourn
together, I quitted Jack off the Scilly Islands, and understood that I
was very much regretted: he unceasingly watched for me in the morning,
and searched for me in every direction, even venturing into the cabin;
nor was he reconciled to my departure when my servants left the vessel
at Gravesend.--_Mag. Natural History._

       *       *       *       *       *




NOTES OF A READER.

       *       *       *       *       *

COMPANION TO THE THEATRES.


It must be owned that such a _little book_ as this has long been
wanted; for of all writing, that relating to the stage is the most
diffuse. It is scattered about in biography, criticism and anecdote, not
unfrequently of great interest, but occupying so much "valuable" time,
that to condense it, or to pick the wheat from the chaff, is no trifling
task. So much for the amusement which our "Companion" may yield to the
Londoner: his utility as a cicerone or guide will be more obvious to our
country friends, who flock in thousands to see and hear comedy and
tragedy at this play-going season. A young girl comes to town to see
"the lions," and, with her "cousin," goes to the opera, where _one
guinea_ is paid for their admission, or even more if they be
_installed_. Two Londoners would buy their tickets during the day,
and thus pay but 17_s_. Another party are dying to hear Braham
sing, or Paton warble her nightingale notes among the canvass groves and
hollyhock gardens of Drury Lane and Covent Garden; or to sup on the
frowning woes of tragedy, the intrigues of an interlude dished up as an
_entremet_, or a melodrama for a ragout; or the wit and waggery of
a farce, sweet and soft-flowing like a _petit-verre_, to finish the
repast. They go, and between the acts try to count the wax and gas, the
feet, and foot lights till they are purblind; they return home and dream
of Desdemona, sing themselves to sleep with the notes of the last song,
are haunted with the odd physiognomy of Liston, and repeat the
farce-laugh till the dream is broken. Next day it is mighty pleasant to
read how many hundred people the theatre will hold, how many pounds they
all paid to get there; and how the splendid pile of Drury Lane rose on
the area of a cockpit: and how Garrick played Macbeth in a court suit,
and John Kemble enacted the sufferings of Hamlet in _powdered_
hair. Upon all these subjects the Companion is conversant, although he
does not set up for Sir Oracle, or shake his head like Burleigh. In
short, he tells of "many things," from the cart of Thespis and the Roman
theatres, with their 6,000 singers and dancers, to the companies on the
present stages.

Thus, we have the Origin of the Drama--Rise of the Drama in
England--Early English Theatres--Descriptions of all the London
Theatres--and a pleasant chapter on the Italian Opera. The Appendix
contains pithy chronologies of the dramatists and actors, bygone
and contemporary--origin of all the varieties of the drama--the
topography of the stage and scenery, costume--expenses of the
theatres--masquerades--play-bills and editions of plays, and a host
of theatrical customs. In truth, the book is as full as the tail of a
fine lobster, and will doubtless repay the time and research which its
preparation must have occupied. There is also a, frontispiece of the
fronts of the twelve London Theatres.

       *       *       *       *       *


ORNITHOLOGY.

Mr. James Jennings has favoured us with a copy of his _Ornithologia;
or the Birds_, a poem; with copious _Notes;_ &c. The latter
portion is to us the most interesting, especially as it contains an
immense body of valuable research into the history and economy of birds,
in a pleasant, piquant, anecdotical style, without any of the quaintness
or crabbedness of scientific technicality. Mr. Jennings's volume is
therefore well adapted for presentation to young persons; whilst the
knowledge which it displays, entitles it to a much higher stand than a
mere book of amusement. To illustrate what we have said in its praise,
the reader will find in the _Supplement_ to the present Number, two
or three of the most attractive _Notes_ under "THE NATURALIST,"
which likewise contains _Three Engravings_ of very curious subjects
in other departments of Natural History.

       *       *       *       *       *


CONVERSATIONS ON GEOLOGY.

We have already spoken in favourable terms of this volume. It consists
of 15 conversations of a family circle, comprising a familiar explanation
of the Huttonian and Wernerian systems; the Mosaic geology, as explained
by Penn; and the late discoveries of Buckland, Humboldt, Macculloch, and
others. By way of specimen, we take a portion of a conversation which
introduces the very interesting subject of the _formation of coal_:

_Edward_.--As the Huttonians evidently fail in proving coal to be
produced by fusion, I hope the Wernerians may succeed better, for I
should be sorry if so interesting a subject were left unexplained.

_Mrs. R._--To understand their account, it will be requisite for
you to recollect the process of the formation of bogs and marshes, as it
is from these that Werner derives coal. What I told you, also, of the
change produced on wood by being long exposed to moisture and kept from
contact with the air, will be of use here, as wood, in all stages of
change, is often found in coal-fields, in the same way as in peat-bogs.

_Edward_. That is a very strong circumstance in favour of the
alleged origin.

_Mrs. R_. There are some facts, indeed, connected with this, which
prove this origin beyond question, as you will admit, when I tell you
that specimens of wood are often found partly converted into coal and
partly unchanged, or petrified by some other mineral.

_Edward_. This will, at least, be direct proof that wood may be
converted into coal.

_Mrs. R_. One instance of this kind is mentioned by Brand, in his
"History of Newcastle," as having been brought from Iceland, by Sir
Joseph Banks. Dr. Rennie, in his "Essay on Peat Moss," gives a still
stronger example. In the parish of Kilsyth, he tells us, there was
found, in a solid bed of sandstone, the trunk of a tree in an erect
position, the indentations of the bark and marks of the branches being
in many parts of it still obvious. It rose from a bed of coal below the
sandstone, and the roots which reached the coal, as well as the bark for
an inch thick round the trunk, were completely converted into coal,
while the centre consisted of sandstone. This specimen I have myself
seen in the parsonage garden of Kilsyth, and this description is most
accurate. Sir George Mackenzie lately found a specimen precisely
similar, in the face of a sandstone rock in Lothian, and I have seen
numerous specimens of bamboos and reeds in the sandstone quarries of
Glasgow, with the bark converted into coal, and the centre filled with
sandstone.

_Edward_.--But would not this prove that sandstone, also, was
derived from wood?

_Mrs. R._--No: it would only prove that the centre had been
destroyed and removed; for the sandstone is not chemically composed of
vegetable substances, but the coal is.

_Edward_--Still, I cannot conceive by what process the conversion
is effected.

_Mrs. R._ By a natural process, evidently; being a continuation of
that which converts mosses and marshes into peat. Nay, it is supposed
not to stop at the formation of coal, but, by a continuation of the
causes, the coal becomes jet, and even amber. The eminent chemist,
Fourcroy, in proof of this, mentions a specimen in which one end was
wood, little changed, and the other pure jet; and Chaptal tells us, that
at Montpellier there are dug up whole cart-loads of trees converted into
jet, though the original forms are so perfectly preserved that he could
often detect the species; and, among others, he mentions birch and
walnut. What is even more remarkable, he found a wooden pail and a
wooden shovel converted into pure jet.

_Edward._ Then I suppose, from all these details, that coal might
be formed artificially, by imitating the natural process.

_Mrs. R._ Mr. Hatchett made many ingenious and successful
experiments with this design, and Dr. Macculloch has more recently
succeeded in actually making coal. One of the strongest instances of the
process, is the existence of a great quantity of wood only half
converted into coal, at Bovey, near Exeter; this has been much discussed
by the geologists; but there is a bed of coal found at Locle, on the
continent, which is said to have been formed almost within the memory of
man, though I have not yet seen any good account of it.

Altogether, we have been much gratified with these Conversations. As a
hint, _en passant_, we remind the editor of such an oversight as
that at p. 350-1, "Order in which the _strata lies_ in the Paris
basin."

       *       *       *       *       *

THE IDLER.

There were many newspapers in the room, but there was nothing in them.
There was a clock, but it did not seem to go; at least, so he thought,
but after looking at it for a very long time he found it did go, but it
went very slowly. Then he looked at his watch, and that went as slow as
the clock. Then he took up the newspapers again one after the other very
deliberately. He read the sporting intelligence and the fashionable
news. But he did not read very attentively, as he afterwards discovered.
Then he looked at the clock again, and was almost angry at the
imperturbable monotony of its face. Then he took out his pocket-book to
amuse himself by reading his memorandums, but they were very few, and
very unintelligible. Then he rose up from his seat, and went to the
window; and looked at the people in the street; he thought they looked
very stupid, and wondered what they could all find to do with
themselves. He looked at the carriages, and saw none with coronets,
except now and then a hackney-coach. Then he began to pick his teeth,
and that reminded him of eating; and then he rang the bell, which
presently brought a waiter; and he took that opportunity of drawling out
the word "waiter" in such lengthened tone, as if resolved to make one
word last as long as possible.--_Rank and Talent_.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE BATTLE OF GIBEON.

VERSES ILLUSTRATIVE OF MARTIN S JOSHUA.


"For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise and garments
rolled in blood but this with burning and fuel of fire."--ISAIAH ix. 5.


  From Gilgal's camp went forth, at dead of night,
    The host of Israel: with the rising sun
  They stood arrayed against the Amorite,
    Beneath the regal heights of Gibeon,
  Glorious in morning's splendour! Lebanon,
    Dim in the distance, reared its lofty head;
  Light clouds o'erbung the vale of Ajalon,
    And the Five Armies, by their monarchs led,
  Not to mere mortal fight, but conflict far more dread.

  How beautiful, at matin's early prime,
    Valley, and mountain, and that city fair!
  Magnificent, yet fearfully sublime,
    In few brief hours the scene depicted there!
  Below the battle raged, and high in air
    The gathering clouds, with tempest in their womb,
  A supernatural darkness seem'd to wear;
    As heralding, by their portentous gloom,
  Victory to Israel's host, her foes' impending doom!

  Upon a jutting crag, below the height
    Where stands the royal city in its pride,
  The ark is rested! in the people's sight
    The priests and Joshua standing by its side;
  Awhile the chief the sea of battle eyed,
    Which heaved beneath:--in accents undismayed,
  "Sun, stand thou still on Gibeon!" he cried,
    "And thou, O Moon, o'er Ajalon be stayed!"
  And holiest records tell the mandate was obeyed.

  Look on the horrid conflict; mark the stream
    Of lurid and unnatural light that falls,
  Like some wild meteors bright terrific gleam,
    On Gibeon's steep and battlemented walls;
  Her royal palace, and her pillared halls,
    Seeming more gorgeous in its vivid blaze!
  While o'er proud Lebanon the storm appals,
    In jagged lines the arrowy lightning plays,
  Soften'd to Israel's sight by intervening haze.

  But o'er the Amoritish camp the cloud
    Bursts in its fury! on the race abhorred
  The parting heavens, as from a pitchy shroud.
    Their desolating hail-storm's wrath out-poured,
  More vengeful in its ire than Israel's sword!
    Thus was deliverance unto Gibeon shown;
  And by the fearful battle of the Lord,
    The army of the Amorites o'erthrown,
  And the almighty power of Israel's God made known.

  Made known by marvels awfully sublime!
    Yet far more glorious in the Christian's sight
  Than these stern terrors of the olden time,
    The gentler splendours of that peaceful night,
  When opening clouds display'd, in vision bright,
    The heavenly host to Bethlehem's shepherd train,
  Shedding around them more than cloudless light!
    "Glory to God on high!" their opening strain,
  Its chorus, "Peace on earth!" its theme Messiah's reign!


_Bernard Barton's New Year's Eve, &c._

       *       *       *       *       *


MAKING ACQUAINTANCE.

What could be more natural than for Mr. Jackson to say to Dr. Smith, "I
am going to call on Markham?" And what could be more natural than for
Dr. Smith to say, "I will go with you, and you may introduce me?" So
then Markham's friend, Jackson, leaves his card, and Jackson's friend,
Dr. Smith, leaves his card too.--_Rank and Talent._

       *       *       *       *       *


GENTLEMEN'S FASHIONS.

We read much of the luxurious effeminacy of the old Romans, their
fantastically curled hair, their favourite robes, &c.; but what will
posterity think of some of the modes of puppyism in our times, when they
read in a chronicle of fashion, dated 1829, that gentlemen wore elegant
drab cloth opera manteaux lined with scarlet velvet, and confined at the
collar with a gold chain! In another dress, the waistcoat is directed to
be made of "a very beautiful white embroidered velvet;" "some young
_men_ have appeared at balls with blue dress gloves embroidered
with white;" "the _system_ of the cravat is to form the
_organization_ of linen on the breast," the very "march" of
foppery; "cloaks of the gentlemen lined with plush silk of celestial
blue;" "at balls our young exquisites sport pocket-handkerchiefs of fine
lawn, with a hem as broad as their thumbs; the corners _only_ are
embroidered:" "shoes tied with a small _rosette_;" "a young
gentleman now suffers his hair to grow, has it curled, and parted on the
left side of the forehead," &c. &c.--This out-herods Herod.

       *       *       *       *       *


PICTURE OF LONDON.

A new edition of this very useful and attractive volume has just
appeared, re-edited by Mr. Britton, who, by his extensive architectural
knowledge, as well as by his popular style of imparting that knowledge,
is calculated to produce a better "Picture of London" than any other
writer within our acquaintance. The introduction is, of course, the most
novel part of this edition, and as it enables Mr. Britton to embody much
authentic information on the public works now in progress, we have
abridged a few of these details, which will be found in a Supplement
published with the present Number. The _Picture of London_ was, we
believe, first printed in 1806; and the extensive patronage which it
has enjoyed during twenty-two years has been well deserved by its
progressive completeness.

       *       *       *       *       *




THE SELECTOR;

AND

LITERARY NOTICES OF

_NEW WORKS._

       *       *       *       *       *


RANK AND TALENT.

_By the Author of Penelope, or Love's Labour Lost._


In our last volume we devoted nearly six of our columns to an outline of
the predecessor of the present work, or the novel of _Penelope_. We
there stated our opinion of the author's talents in a peculiar style of
novel-writing--a sort of mixture of satire and fashion, without the
starchness of the one, or the silly affectation of the other--abounding
in well-drawn pictures of real life, free from caricature, and teeming
with home-truths, in themselves of such plainness and ready application,
as to make precept and example follow on with near approaches to
probability and truth.

The author's _forte_ unquestionably lies in this species of
writing, and his "_Rank and Talent_" will, we think, bear us out in
this opinion. The story or canvass of the novel is simple, and well
prepared for his sketches and finished portraits of character. They
belong to fashionable and middle life, and the conceits and
eccentricities, as well as the straightforward integrity of their
stations are illustrated with peculiar force. Sound moral and knowledge
of the world are occasionally introduced with great tact, for the author
is no stranger to the inmost workings and recesses of the human heart;
and he adapts these lessons, and dovetails them with the narrative, in a
clever and agreeable style.

The outline of the story may be briefly told. The Hon. Philip Martindale
has an action brought against him, at the assizes, for the false
imprisonment of one Richard Smith, as a poacher; although the object of
the defendant was a beautiful girl residing with the defendant. Clara
Rivolta is rudely cross-examined as a witness; whilst the plaintiff's
case is conducted by Horatio Markham, an intelligent young barrister,
whose parents reside in the town where the action is tried. The cousin
of the defendant, Mr. John Martindale, an eccentric old gentleman who
builds an abbey for his titled relative to occupy, whilst he himself
lives in a cottage on the estate; seeks an acquaintance with Markham.
These parties reside at Brigland, and Philip Martindale, a dissipated
lover of the turf, who is dependent on his capricious cousin for his
supplies; and Horatio Markham, the hero, are thus introduced. Then we
have a country curate of the higher order, together with his loquacious
_half_; which are excellent portraits.

John Martindale is one of those eccentric beings--half-aristocrat, and
half-liberal, which are more rare in society than they were fifty years
since; and upon this curious compound turns the narrative. Clara Rivolta
and her mother, Signora Rivolta, the wife of Colonel R. quit their
native Italy, and visit Brigland, where old Martindale, on the
discovery, acknowledges the Signora as the fruit of an early imprudence
on the continent, and finally leaves them a large fortune. Clara is
married to Markham, and Philip Martindale, afterwards Earl of
Trimmerstone, marries a gay, giddy girl, who elopes with a perfumed
puppy of the first fragrance.

The round of the earl's dissipation is but a sorry picture of the
prostitution of rank; but the connexion leads us into a succession of
scenes of fashionable life, which are vividly drawn, as are two or three
of their adjuncts,--a popular west-end preacher, an anti-nervous
physician, the dandy already mentioned, a noble gambler, and a rich city
knight and his aspiring family--all of which are to the life.

Our extracts must be detached from the narrative; but they may serve to
illustrate the felicitous vein in which the characters are drawn.

The means by which Signora Rivolta is discovered by Martindale, is well
managed. One morning after the old gentleman had been amusing his
visiters with some Italian views, Mr. Denver, the curate, introduced to
Mr. Martindale with great parade Colonel Rivolta, whom he described as
having recently made his escape from the continent, where he was exposed
to persecution, if not to death, on account of his political opinions.
The reverend gentleman then proceeded to state, that the colonel had
previously to his own arrival in England sent over his wife and
daughter, whom he had committed to the care of Richard Smith; that with
them he had also transmitted some property, which old Richard had
invested for their use and benefit; that unfortunately the very first
night of the colonel's arrival at Brigland, the cottage in which Richard
Smith dwelt had been robbed by a gipsy; that in consequence of that
event the poor old man had been so seriously alarmed, that he had been
totally unable to attend to any thing, and that he had died, leaving
this poor foreigner in a strange land not knowing how to proceed as
to the recovery of his little property. After an interview, in which
Martindale promises the colonel his assistance, the latter was rising to
take leave, when his eye was arrested by a print which Mr. Martindale
held in his hand, and which he had unrolled while he was talking. As
soon as the colonel saw the picture, he recognised the scene which it
represented, and uttered an ejaculation, indicative of surprise and
pleasure. Mr. Martindale then, for the first time, observed the print,
and noticed its subject; he also looked upon it with surprise, but not
with pleasure; and then he asked the stranger if that scene were
familiar to him, with very great emotion the colonel replied:--"That
scene brings to my recollection the happiest day of my life."

For a few seconds the party were totally silent; for the clergyman and
the foreigner were struck dumb with astonishment at the altered looks of
the old gentleman, and were surprised to see him crushing the picture
in both hands. He then, as if with an effort of great resolution,
exclaimed:--"And it brings to my recollection the most miserable day
of my life."

       *       *       *       *       *

The agitation of the old gentleman abated, and he replied: "I thank you
for your kindness, sir, but my sorrow arises from self-reproach. I have
inflicted injuries which can never be redressed." He hesitated, as if
wishing, but dreading to say more. Then changing the tone of his voice,
as if he were about to speak on some totally different subject, he
continued addressing himself to Colonel Rivolta:--"I presume, sir, you
are a native of Genoa, or you are very familiar with that city." "I was
born," replied the foreigner, "at Naples; but very early in life I was
removed to Genoa, that I might be engaged in merchandize; for my
patrimony was very small, and my relations would have despised me, had I
endeavoured by any occupation to gain a livelihood in my native city."
"Then you were not originally destined for the army?" "I was not; but
after I had been some few years in Genoa, I began to grow weary of the
pursuits of merchandize, and indeed to feel some of that pride of which
I had accused my relations, and I thought that I should be satisfied
with very little if I might be free from the occupation of the merchant;
and while I was so thinking, I met by chance an old acquaintance who
persuaded me to undertake the profession of arms, to which I was indeed
not reluctant. And so I left my merchandise, and did not see Genoa again
for nearly two years. It was then that I was so much interested in that
scene which the picture portrays; for in a very small house which is in
the same street, directly opposite to that palace, there lived an old
woman, whose name was ----"

The attention of the old gentleman had been powerfully arrested by the
commencement of the Italian's narrative; and he listened very calmly
till the narrator arrived at the point when he was about to mention the
name of the old woman who lived opposite to the palace in question: then
was Mr. Martindale again excited, and without waiting for the conclusion
of the sentence, interrupted it by exclaiming: "Ah! what! do you know
that old woman? Is she living? Where is she?--Stop--no--let me
see--impossible!--Why I must be nearly seventy--yes--are you sure? Is
not her name Bianchi?"

To this hurried and confused mass of interrogation, the colonel replied
that her name was Bianchi; but that she had died nearly twenty years
ago, at a very advanced age, being at the time of her death nearly
ninety years of age. Hearing this, the old gentleman assumed a great
calmness and composure of manner, though he trembled as if in an ague;
and turning to the astonished clergyman, who was pleasing himself with
the anticipation of some catastrophe or anecdote which might form a fine
subject for town-talk, he very deliberately said:--"Mr. Denver, I beg I
may not intrude any longer on your valuable time. This gentleman, I
find, can give me some account of an old acquaintance of mine. The
inquiries may not be interesting to you. Make my best compliments to
Mrs. Denver."

When this good man was withdrawn, Mr. Martindale requested the stranger
to be seated; and unmindful of the guests whom he had left to amuse
themselves and each other, he commenced very deliberately to examine the
foreigner concerning those matters which had so strongly excited his
feelings.

"You tell me," said Mr. Martindale, "that the old woman, Bianchi, has
been dead nearly twenty years. Now, my good friend, can you inform me
how long you were acquainted with this old woman before her death."
"I knew her," replied the colonel, "only for about four years before
she died." "And had you much intimacy with her, so as to hear her
talk about former days." "Very often indeed," replied the foreigner,
"did she talk about the past; for as her age was very great, and her
memory was very good, it was great interest to hear her tell of ancient
things; and she was a woman of most excellent understanding, and very
benevolent in her disposition. Indeed, I can say that I loved the old
woman much, very much indeed. I was sorry at her death." "But tell me,"
said Mr. Martindale, impatiently, "did you ever hear her say any thing
of an infant--an orphan that was committed to her care nearly forty
years ago?" At this question, the eyes of the stranger brightened, and
his face was overspread with a smile of delight, when he replied: "Oh
yes, much indeed, much indeed! that orphan is my wife,"

This rapidity of explanation was almost too much for the old gentleman's
feelings. His limbs had been trembling with the agitation arising from
thus reverting to days and events long passed; and he had entertained
some hope from the language of the foreigner, that he might gain some
intelligence concerning one that had been forgotten, but whose image was
again revived in his memory. He had thought but lightly in the days of
his youth of that which he then called folly, but more seriously in the
days of his age of that same conduct which then he called vice. It would
have been happiness to his soul, could an opportunity have been afforded
him of making something like amends to the representatives of the
injured, even though the injured had been long asleep in the grave. When
all at once, therefore, the intelligence burst upon him, that one was
living in whom he possessed an interest, and over whose destiny he
should have watched, but whom he had neglected and forgotten, he felt
his soul melt within him; and well it was for him that he found relief
in tears. Surprised beyond measure was Colonel Rivolta, when he observed
the effect produced on Mr. Martindale, and heard the old gentleman say
with trembling voice:--"And that orphan, sir, is my daughter." He paused
for a minute or two, and his companion was too much astonished and
interested to interrupt him: recovering himself, he continued: "For many
years after that child was born, I had not the means of making any other
provision for it than placing it under the care of the old woman of whom
we have been speaking. I gave her such compensation as my circumstances
then allowed; and as the mother died soon after the birth of the infant,
I thought myself freed from all farther responsibility when I had made
provision for the infant. I endeavoured, indeed, to forget the event
altogether; and as I wished to form a respectable connexion in marriage,
I took especial care to conceal this transgression. However, various
circumstances prevented me from time to time from entering into the
married state; and having within the last twelve years come into the
possession of larger property than I had ever anticipated, it occurred
to me that there should be living at Genoa a child of mine, then indeed
long past childhood. I wrote to Genoa, and had no answer; I went to
Genoa, and could find no trace either of my child or of the old woman to
whose care I had entrusted her; and I was grieved not so much for the
loss of my child, as for the lack of an opportunity of making some
amends for my crime. I am delighted to hear that she lives. To-morrow I
will see her."

Upon this interesting disclosure hinge the principal incidents. In the
course of these are some admirable pleasantries; especially a
horse-race, and the description of Trimmerstone, in vol. i.; and the
clerical prig, and a slight sketch of the dangle Tippetson, in vol. ii.

The Earl of Trimmerstone's portrait, after old Martindale's death is
well drawn:

The Earl of Trimmerstone was depressed in spirits; it is indeed very
natural that he should be. The life which he had led, the companions
with whom he had associated, the disappointments which he had
experienced, his foolish marriage, the disgraceful conduct of his silly
countess, the taunts and reproaches of his opulent relative, the
weariness and disgust that he felt in having nothing to do, and the
annoyance of an empty title, which merely mocked him with the epithet of
right honourable, all these things combined to render him almost
disgusted with, and weary of life. His solitude was soon invaded by a
visit from the Rev. Marmaduke Sprout, rector of Trimmerstone, who was
rather fanatical in his theology, and finical in attire and address. He
could presently render himself agreeable to any person of exalted rank
by his very courteous and conciliating demeanour; and he possessed a
peculiar softness and gentleness of manner, with which indeed the Earl
of Trimmerstone would, in his past days of cock-fighting, horse-racing,
and boxing, have been thoroughly disgusted. But his lordship was quite
an altered man. Formerly, the lowest pursuits under the name of sport or
fancy had been agreeable to his lordship; and every species of religious
 sentiment he had regarded with the profoundest contempt and the most
unmingled abhorrence. But now he was sick, and weary of all these things!
and because one extreme was purely offensive and wearisome, he took
it for granted that the opposite must be truly delightful and highly
consistent, and so under the tuition of Mr. Sprout, he changed and
reversed all his habits, good, bad, and indifferent. From staking
thousands at a horse-race, he turned up his eyes at the grievous
abomination of half-crown whist; and, indeed, had he been disposed to
card-playing, he could not have indulged himself at Trimmerstone, for
Mr. Sprout had banished almost all card-playing from the place, so
that there was not a pack of cards in the parish, except two or three
mutilated well-thumbed packs of quadrille-cards, which were still used
by a knot of antiquated spinsters worthy of the good old days of
Sacheverel and High Church. Quadrille-cards will not do for whist,
for all the eights, nines, and tens are thrown out. Formerly, Lord
Trimmerstone used to be proud of giving some of his acquaintance a
sumptuous dinner; but now he had changed all that, and he only kept one
female cook, who could just manage to make a comfortable and snug little
dish or two for his lordship's own self, occasionally assisted by the
Rev. Mr. Sprout. Formerly, his lordship had been disposed to be lively,
and oftentimes facetious; but now he was prodigiously grave, and almost
sulky. Formerly, his lordship never went to church; now he went twice
every Sunday, and said Amen as loud as the clerk, and with much more
solemnity, for the clerk did not turn up his eyes for fear of losing the
place. Formerly, his lordship had been very candid; now he had become
exceedingly censorious, and he seemed to measure his religion by the
severity with which he reproved transgressors. His lordship several
times attempted to make all the inhabitants of Trimmerstone go to church
twice every Sunday, except his own cook. But in this his lordship could
not succeed, and indeed it was well for him that he could not; for if
he had, the church would have been so crowded that he could not have
enjoyed a great, large, lined, stuffed, padded, carpeted pew for
himself.

In another portion of the MIRROR we have quoted half a dozen of the
author's amenities just to show the reader that in depicting the follies
of fashionable life, there is less fiddle-faddle--less _rank_ than
_talent_--and more sense than in many other chronicles of the ton.

       *       *       *       *       *




SPIRIT OF THE

Public Journals.

       *       *       *       *       *

MAXIMS OF JOHN BULLISM.


When you travel in a stage-coach, make all the passengers, both inside
and outside, fully acquainted with your name, business, and objects in
travelling, before five minutes have elapsed. Among the rest, be sure
you give them to think you are a man of property, and the personal
friend of at least half-a-dozen nobles or members of parliament. If in
trade, inform them you have something very handsome in the three per
cents., and live on terms of perfect familiarity with the great Jew.

Honesty is the best and most profitable policy in the long run, but
there are a thousand exceptions to this rule in private practice.

Do no charity by stealth; it is never repaid in this world to any
advantage; do it openly, and there are chances of its returning cent per
cent.

You may keep a running horse, or two, though you are a magistrate sworn
to put down gambling: you need not bet upon the race-course yourself.
You may subscribe to Fishmongers' Hall, and go there without throwing
the dice. You may share the profits of a _roulette_ table, without
venturing your luck. It is strange that vulgar understandings cannot
discriminate in these matters!

When you have made up your mind finally to do any thing, ask the advice
of your friend about it. The act of consultation will please him, and
you will be none the worse.

Human happiness is more or less complete in a ratio with successful
pecuniary accumulation.

If you enter a drawing-room before dinner a little time too early, and
find yourself _vis-a-vis_ with an unlucky visiter as forlorn as
yourself, do not utter a word. The chances are, nine out of ten, he will
not speak first, that is, if he be a true Briton. Stare at him as hard
as you can.

If you meet a lady in society, old or young, married or single, who
equals you in argument, or rises superior to the thousand and one
automatons disgorged monthly from fashionable boarding-schools, report
her a _bas bleu_ to your male acquaintances, and warn her own sex
to shun her.

When you meet an inferior in a public street, it is your duty to cut
him, if any one who knows you is in sight. If you cannot escape a
recognition, do it with as little parade as possible--a movement of the
lips is sufficient--and walk on at a quick rate. Who knows but the Lord
Mayor, or Mr. Alderman Blowbladder, may observe you?

A grain of impudence will fetch more in the market than twelve bushels
of modesty.

In the scale of dignities two Cheapside chaises make one Stanhope; two
Stanhopes a cab; two cabs a landaulet and pair; and so on up to the
state-coach; and as their numerical relation, so is the degree of
respect they may justly exact.

If you visit foreign parts, and meet a countryman who may be useful to
you, do not hesitate to avail yourself of his services; but be sure
never to acknowledge him should you meet in your native land, unless he
receive some other introduction to you, and you have it on creditable
evidence that he is a man of good property.

Never allow reason weight in any thing you have resolved to be right
that is opposed to it. Reason may be useful in mathematics, to men of
genius, and to scholars; but it has little to do with every-day
existence, with the Three per Cents, the national revenue, the Stock
Exchange, or the India House.

Never get acquainted with your next-door neighbour, unless you find he
is in good pecuniary circumstances. If you meet on the highway, or touch
elbows at your respective fore-doors, look at each other like two
strange tom-cats, and pursue your way.

Commiserate the fate of a Thurtell, a Probert, or a Corder, sent
(ripened for heaven in a forty-eight hours' probation by a Newgate
chaplain) out of the world their hellish acts have so sullied; but
sympathise not with a Riego or a Canaris. Heroic vice was always
spiriting; heroic virtue is phlegmatic. John Bull's constitution is only
acted upon by strong excitement.

When you dine with the Lord Mayor, or any of the Aldermen of Brobdignag,
and they attempt to exhibit their skill at repartee, be sure decide the
wealthiest to be the wittiest. It will insure you a good dinner another
time, perhaps something more.

In choosing a wife, prefer even Bristol ugliness to beauty, especially
if there be a fortune. Beauty will change, intellect may be too much for
you, but ugliness will be true to you as to itself; besides its
advantage of preserving you from the effects of conjugal frailty.

A judge's wig is a Delphic mystery, whether brains be in it or not. It
is a of sublunary wisdom--an umbrella over an oracle.

When you dine at a public dinner, always take your seat opposite a
favourite dish. Carve it yourself, and select the choicest bits, then
leave it to your right-hand neighbour to help the rest of the company.

Always stick your napkin in your button-hole at the dinner table, if you
admit such French superfluities at all. Eat with the sharp edge of your
knife towards your mouth; forks won't take up gravy. Never wipe your
lips when you take wine with a lady, and fill both her glass and your
own until daylight is not visible through the crystal.

When Mrs. Bull is obstreperous, go to the coffee-house and call for your
glass. It is an excellent cure for her complaint, and you will get the
latest news retailed in the most engaging manner, with the pleasure of
knowing she is biting her lips at home in vexation.

Never hold any intercourse with people of whom the world speaks ill.
'Tis true they may be, and generally are, among the very best of
mankind, but as they are not reputed to be so, what is that to you?

Some persons cant about the wickedness of the times: believe them not;
this is the most saintly of ages, the most pure of generations,
considering its temptations.

Vice at the east and west end of town, is different only in form; in
substance it comes to the same thing, and in quality is equal to a
grain.

Never leave a dispute to be settled by arbitration; if you are rich,
always appeal to law, especially if your opponent be poor. The lawyers
will manage for you long before the case gets up to the Lords, and
perhaps secure your rival _in banco regis_ for expenses. In an
arbitration, the case may be decided against you in a twinkling. It is a
capital thing that justice and a long purse are sworn brothers; besides,
moneyed men should have some advantage in society.

So little is the value of an oath understood by any but the Bull family,
that none but the postboys and the vulgar use oaths in foreign nations,
America excepted; but that country being a chip of the old block,
already rivals honest John; outdo him she must not.

Lard your butter, wet your tobacco, pipe-clay your flour, sand your
sugar, sloe-leaf your tea, coal-ash your pepper, deteriorate your drugs,
water your liquors, alloy your gold and silver, plunder your lodgers,
and, while none know it, who is the worse! Then to church, and thank God
you are not as other men.

Live and talk as if you were to live for ever. If you have accumulated
tens of thousands, try and make them hundreds of thousands. Why should
you retire and make way for the industry of others, while you are able
to treasure up more.

Give credit, take credit, live upon credit; if you are wealthy, your own
money will be gathering interest at the same time. If you are poor, you
have no other means to live by.

In matters of business, let there be no favour. If you are dealing with
your own father, give nothing to him. Screw the uttermost farthing, and,
if need, sell him.

Give only to receive.

Men of genius are fools; the truly great men know how to make money, and
money is power--the power of making more money. Your men of genius are
at best but harlequins with empty pockets.--_New Monthly Magazine._

       *       *       *       *       *




THE GATHERER.


  A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
      SHAKSPEARE.

        *       *       *       *       *


THE OPERA.

Swift, in his Journal to Stella, speaking of the Opera says, "In half an
hour I was tired of their _fine stuff_."

       *       *       *       *       *


FAUSTINA and CUZZONI, two celebrated opera singers, were such bitter
rivals, that neither of them would sing in the same room with the other.

       *       *       *       *       *


CATS.

Four learned cats are now exhibiting in Regent-street; but as we have
not yet left our card with their feline excellencies, we cannot wink at
their perfections.

       *       *       *       *       *


SHERWOOD AND ROBIN HOOD.

The officers of Sherwood Forest, famous for having been the
head-quarters of Robin Hood in the 16th century, were a warden, his
lieutenant and steward, a bow-bearer, and a ranger, four verderers,
twelve regarders, four agisters, and twelve keepers or foresters, all
under a chief forester; besides these there were several woodwards for
every township within the forest, and one for every principal wood.

HALBERT H.

       *       *       *       *       *


The late Duke of Norfolk passing down Piccadilly with Sheridan, as a
gigantic wooden Highlander was just then fixing at the door of a
tobacconist, asked, what was the reason of this usual location. "Ay, ay,
I see it now," said the duke, "it is as much as to say, bargains here, a
man may get the most for his farthing." "No," said Sheridan, "it seems
quite the contrary, for if the Scotchman could have driven any thing in
the way of bargain, he would have gone in."

       *       *       *       *       *


A Mrs. Tomlinson is mentioned in the papers as having, lately died,
worth thirty thousand pounds, chiefly amassed by habits of extreme
penury. She had, before this accumulation, separated from her husband,
to whom she handsomely allowed five shillings a-week. This was observed
to realize the often-repeated saying of Solomon--"A virtuous woman is a
_crown_ to her husband."

       *       *       *       *       *


SUGAR MADE FROM RAGS.

The compiler of a Catechism of Chemistry up to the latest date, says,
"It is a remarkable fact, that a pound of rags may be converted into
more than a pound of sugar, merely by the action of sulphuric acid. When
shreds of linen are triturated (stirred) in a glass mortar with
sulphuric acid, they yield a gummy matter on evaporation; and if this
matter be boiled for some time with dilute sulphuric acid, we obtain a
crystallizable sugar."--Now is the time to look up all your old rags,
&c.

       *       *       *       *       *


A choral society, consisting of 160 members, has just been established
at Breslau, for the cultivation of ancient music.

       *       *       *       *       *


JOHN OF GAUNT.

There is a curious tradition respecting the estate of Sutton Park, (the
seat of Sir J. Burgoyne.) near Biggleswade, Bedfordshire, which states
it formerly belonged to John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, who gave it to
an ancestor of the present proprietor, named Roger Burgoyne, by the
following laconic grant:--

  I, John of Gaunt,
  Do give and do grant
  To Roger Burgoyne,
  And the heirs of his loin,
  Both Sutton and Potton,[3]
  Until the world's rotten.


There is also a moated site in the park, called "John of Gaunt's Castle."

J.H.

    [3] A neighbouring village.

       *       *       *       *       *


With the present Number is published a SUPPLEMENT, containing THREE
ENGRAVINGS: 1. _The Death-Watch_. 2. _The Glow-Worm_. 3.
_The Talipot Tree_, and a series of other curious and attractive
Wonders of Nature--The First and Last Crime, a vivid and masterly
sketch--Public Improvements now in progress in London--besides an
unusual variety of Literary Novelties.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD 143, Strand, (near Somerset
House,) London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic; and
by all Newsmen and Booksellers_.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Literature, Amusement,
and Instruction, No. 360, by Various

*** 