THE MIRROR
OF
LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

CASTLE OF THE SEVEN TOWERS AT CONSTANTINOPLE

The celebrity of the Seven Towers in European countries,
though strongly savouring of romance, is no joke—it being the
prison where the Turks confine the ministers and ambassadors
of the powers with whom they are at war. At the present moment this
engraving will doubtless be acceptable to our readers; especially
to such of our City friends as have recently been induced to
speculate on the heads of ambassadors of the allied powers; and a
few days since it might have served as a scale for their
wagering the “price of blood.”

With the early account of this castle we shall be brief. It is
cited in the history of the lower empire from the sixth century of
the Christian era, as a point which served for the defence of
Constantinople. The embrasures of some of its towers, as well as of
the towers that flank the ramparts of the town from the southern
angle of the castle to the sea, blackened as is supposed by the
Greek fire, announce that it was the principal bulwark of the city
on the side of the Propontis, in the latter times of the empire. In
1453, Mahomet II., after an obstinate siege, gained possession of
Constantinople and the Castle of the Seven Towers, fear opening to
him one of the gates of the latter. The Turks relate that 12,000
men perished in this siege; and the marks of the ravages of the
artillery are still visible, for, as usual, the conqueror did not
concern himself about repairs. Since that time the place has been
the arena of many remarkable events, among which was the tragical
murder of the caliph Osman the Second. This has been followed up by
many bloody executions; and at every turn gloomy sentiments, and
the proud names of Turks and Greek princes, inscribed on the walls,
speak the sad fate of those by whose hands they were traced. Towers
filled with irons, chains, ancient arms, tombs, ruins, dungeons,
cold and silent vaults, a pit called the well of blood,
[pg
362] the funeral cry of owls and of vultures, mingled with
the roar of the waves—such are the objects and sounds with
which the eye and ear are familiarized in these dreary abodes,
according to poor Ponqueville, the traveller, who speaks from
experience—within the walls. All this is a sorry
picture for the

But the state purposes to which the Seven Towers
are appropriated boast of comparative comfort, “the prisoners
detained here being distinguished from all other prisoners of war
by an allowance for the table which is assigned them by the sultan,
and by the appellation of mouzafirs, or hostages.¹ It may, indeed,” continues our
traveller, “be considered as a great favour to be regarded in this
light, comparing their situation with that of others, who fall into
captivity among the Turks.” Moreover, this castle is dignified as
an imperial fortress, and governed by an aga with a guard
and a band of music. Indeed, we suppose it a sort of lock-up house
preparatory to more rigorous confinement; and its governorship is a
peaceable and honourable post. The Turks who compose the garrison
of the Seven Towers have, in the first place, the advantage of
being esteemed persons of a certain distinction in their quarter;
and, secondly, they are exempted from going out to war, to which
every Musselman is liable.

This castle stands at the eastern extremity of the Propontis, or
Sea of Marmara; it is a tolerably regular pentagon, four out of the
five angles of which are flanked by towers; the fifth angle had
also a tower, but it exists no longer. Its principal front is
towards the west, and has, besides the tower at one of the angles,
two others, which stand on each side the ancient triumphal arch of
Constantine. The gate of entrance to the Seven Towers on the side
of the town is to the east, in a small square. The longest side of
the pentagon is that in which Constantine’s arch is included; while
towers existed at all the angles, this side presented a front of
four towers; but it has now only three. The first marble tower is
an enormous mass, between eighty and ninety feet high.

The triumphal arch of Constantine, which occupies the centre
between the two marble towers, conducts to the golden gate in the
exterior enclosure of the castle. The arch was more than ninety
feet in height; but it has been so much injured by artillery, that
no idea can now be formed of its ornaments. In the second marble
tower is the Cave of Blood: the first door by which it is
entered is of wood; this opens into a corridor of twelve feet long
by four feet wide, having at the end two iron steps ascending to an
iron door, and this leads into a semicircular gallery; at its
furthest extremity is a second iron door, which completes the
gallery, and ten feet further an immense massive door enclosing the
dungeon. In the midst of this sarcophagus is a well, the mouth of
which is level with the ground, and half closed by two flag-stones;
to this is given the name of the well of blood, because the
heads of those who are executed in the dungeon are thrown into it.
In the same tower with this dungeon is a staircase leading up to a
number of cells; from some of them, which are higher than the
ramparts, the eye may be gratified with a view over Constantinople
through loop-holes pierced in the walls. Here the Turks formerly
used to confine those whom they call mouzafirs, or hostages;
but the latter have now the choice allowed them of hiring more
eligible apartments.

The first enclosure of the Seven Towers is inhabited chiefly by
poor Turks, who have houses, and live there with their families.
They also belong to the guard of the castle.

The air of the Seven Towers is in general unwholesome, and very
likely to produce scrofula. In the summer the walls, heated by the
sun, transform the place into a furnace; and the apartments on the
first floor are at all times extremely damp.

Our engraving, aided by the subjoined references, will, however,
enable our readers to form an accurate idea of the topography of
the Seven Towers. It is copied from the Travels of M.
Ponqueville, who devotes a chapter of his quarto volume to a minute
description of towers, gardens, and fortresses. Nothing can exceed
the horror with which his catalogue of their miseries is calculated
to impress the reader; indeed, they fall but little short of some
of the highly-wrought fictions of barbarous romance.

ASTRONOMICAL OCCURRENCES FOR DECEMBER, 1827.

(For the Mirror.)

The sun enters the cardinal and tropical sign Capricorn
on the 22nd, attaining his greatest austral declination at 1h. 31m.
afternoon.

The moon is in opposition on the 3rd; in apogee on the 6th, and
in conjunction and perigee on the 18th.

Mercury is in perihelion on the 1st, becomes [pg 363]
stationary on the 9th, and reaches his greatest elongation on the
19th, when he may be seen before sunrise, as well as a few
preceding and succeeding mornings; be rises on the abovementioned
day at 6h. 8m.

Venus is in aphelio on the 18th, and in conjunction with the
planet Herschel on the 28th at 9 h. evening; she sets on the 1st at
4 h. 48 m., and on the 31st at 5-1/2 h. evening.

Mars rises on the 1st at 3h, 14m., and on the 31st at 2 h. 46 m.
morning.

Jupiter rises on the 1st at 4 h. 39 m. and on the 31st at 3h.
morning; he has now receded far enough from the sun to render the
eclipses of his nearest moon visible; the first immersion will take
place on the 3rd at 6 h. 39 m. 4 s. morning; the next on the 19th
at 4 h. 54 m. 42 s. morning, and the last on the 26th at 6 h. 48 m.
14 s. morning, those being the only ones that happen during the
month.

Saturn who commenced retrograding on the 2nd, last month, in 20
deg. 18m. of Cancer, will on the 31st have reached 17 deg.
26 m. of the same sign, and will be found a few degrees below the
star Pollux in the constellation Gemini, rising on
the 1st at 6h. 49m., and on the 31st at 4 h. 27 m. evening.

Herschel culminates on the 1st at 3 h. 23m., and on the 31st at
1 h. 17 m.

Fomalhaut in Pisces, a star of the first magnitude, and
very much resembling the planet Saturn, (except that its light is
not so steady,) will be observed only a few degrees above the
horizon in the south west, coming to the meridian at 6 h. 19 m.
evening; Markal in the wing of Pegasus, the flying horse at
6 h. 26 m. Alpheratz and Mirach, the former in the
head, and the latter in the girdle, of Andromeda at 7 h. 31 m. and
8 h. 31 m. Menkar in the jaw of Cetus the whale at 10
h. 24 m.; the four preceding are of the second magnitude. The
Pleiades south at 11 h. 8m., and Aldebaran in Taurus,
generally called the Bull’s Eye, a brilliant star of the first
magnitude at 11 h. 56 m.; the upper or northern portion of the
constellation Orion at 12-1/2 h., and the lower or southern
part at 1 h. morning.

These remarks cannot be better concluded, than by calling the
attention of the readers of the MIRROR to the unerring regularity
of the motion of the heavenly bodies. Though their magnitude is so
immense, the certainty and correctness of their movements during
thousands of years, is far more exact than that of the best
chronometer ever made, even during a single year: how great, then,
must be the ignorance of him who does not behold in them the
Almighty ruler of all things; and how great the folly of him, who
says in his heart, and evinces by his conduct that he believes
there is no God. And let him who denies what he cannot comprehend,
be addressed in the impressive language of holy writ, “Canst thou
bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades, or loose the bands of
Orion? Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst
thou guide Arcturus with his Sons?” 14th November, 1827.
PASCHE.

COLD WINTER IS COMING.

(For the Mirror.)

Nov 5th 1827. C. COLE.

NAUTICAL PHRASES.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

Sir,—The annexed Definition of Nautical, Names,
&c. will not, I dare say, to most of your readers, be
uninteresting. G.W.N.

The Starboard is the right side of the ship, as the
lar-board is the left.

The Parrel is a movable band-rope, used to fasten the
yard to its respective mast.

Backstays are long ropes, reaching from the right and
left sides of the vessel to the mast heads.

Travellers are slight iron rings, encircling the
backstays, and are used for hoisting the top-gallant yards, and
confining them to the backstays.

Rolling-tackle is a number of pulleys, engaged to confine
the yard to the weather side of the mast; this tackle is much used
in a rough sea.

Booms are masts or yards, lying on board in reserve.

The Courses are the mainsail, foresail, and the
mizen.

The Staysail is of a triangular form, running upon the
fore-topmast-stay, just above the bowsprit.

Reef-tackles are ropes employed in the operation of
reefing. &c.

Clue-lines are used to truss up the clues, or to lower
the corners of the largest sails.

The Brake is the handle of the pump, by which it is
worked.

Bowlines are ropes for keeping the windward edge of the
sail steady.

The Wells are places in the ship’s hold for the pumps,
&c.

Earings are small lines, by which the uppermost corners
of the largest sails are secured to the yard-arms.

Reefs are spaces by which the principal sails are reduced
when the wind is too high, and enlarged again when its force
abates.

Topsails are long and square, of the second degree in
magnitude in all great ships.

Haliards are single ropes, by which the sails are hoisted
up and lowered at pleasure.

Tally is the operation of hauling aft the sheets,
or drawing them in the direction of the ship’s stern.

Towing is the operation of drawing a vessel forward by
means of long lines, &c.

Timoneer, from the French timonnier, is a name
given, on particular occasions, to the steersman of a ship.

Bars are large masses of sand or earth, formed by the
surge of the sea; they are mostly found at the entrances of great
rivers or havens, and often render navigation extremely
dangerous.

The Ox-Eye, so called by seamen, is a remarkable
appearance in the heavens, resembling a small lurid speck, and
always precedes two particular storms, known only between the
tropics.

Azimuth-Compass is an instrument employed for
ascertaining the sun’s magnetical azimuth.

Studding-Sails are long and narrow, and are used only in
fine weather, on the outside of the large square sails.

Stay-Sails have three corners, and are hoisted up on the
stays when the wind crosses the ship.

Broaching-to is a sudden movement in navigation, when the
ship, while scudding before the wind, accidentally turns her side
to windward.

Wales are a number of strong and thick planks, covering
the lower part of the ship’s side.

Scud is a name given by sailors to the lowest clouds;
which are mostly observed in squally weather.

The Sheets are ropes used for extending the clues, or
lowering the corners of the sails.

Brails are ropes used to truss up a sail to a mast or
yard.

Reef-Bands are long pieces of rough canvass sewed across
the sails to give them additional strength.

Scudding is a term applied to a vessel when carried
furiously along by a tempest.

Leeward implies when the ship lies on that side to which
the wind is directed.

Windbound means when the ship is detained in one
particular station by contrary winds.

Windward is when the ship is in the direction of the
wind.

CHRONICLES OF THE CANONGATE.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

Sir,—Since my last communication to you on the subject of
the works, so commonly spoken of as by the “Great
Unknown”—”the Wizard of the North,” and other equally
novel cognomina, the veil has been withdrawn; we now have
the open avowal, both from his own lips, and under his own hand, of
the authorship from the individual himself, who has so long, and,
as it now appears, so justly, enjoyed the reputation of having
written them.

To judge from what he says in the second volume of “the
Chronicles of the Canongate,” just published—I mean in the
character of Mr. Croftangry,—it is clear that he is conscious
of such slips and carelessness as I have before pointed out. I am
therefore at a loss to understand why he should allow them to
remain like spots that deface the general beauty of his
productions, as by submitting them for perusal to the merest Tyro
in grammar or composition before they were sent to press, they
could not fail of being obliterated.

It is surely no very good policy for an artist, jealous of his
reputation, knowingly to leave his works unfinished. Without,
however, detaining you, or your readers, by such obvious remarks, I
shall resume my task, hoping that you will be able to find room for
the following in your useful and entertaining miscellany.

In the first volume, p. 168, of the present work, we read: “She
was once the beautiful and happy wife of Hamish Mac Tavish, for
whom his strength and feats of prowess gained him the
title of Mac Tavish Mhor.” This kind of style would scarcely be
allowed to pass in Leadenhall-street. What is meant by for
whom, with his immediately following, and then
him a little after? Does not the author intend to say, that
the strength, &c. of Mac Tavish gained him the title of Mac
Tavish Mhor? If so, (and there can be no doubt of it from the
context,) then he should have written the sentence thus:
“whose strength and feats of prowess had gained him the
title of Mac Tavish Mhor.”

“He gained the road, mounted his pony, and rode upon his way,”
p. 183 of the same volume, is, in the latter part of it, another
curious phrase. “He mounted his pony,” says the author. May we not
suppose he rode upon it too? But he adds “rode upon his
way.”

Again: “His reputed grandfather with his pockets stuffed out
with Bank notes, would come to atone for his past cruelty, by
heaping his neglected grandchild with unexpected wealth,”
vol. 2., p. 87. We heap up wealth, but not persons
with it, for that would hardly be kind. To load one with
wealth is a common expression.

“Is it possible that the bold adventurer can fix his thoughts
on you, and still be dejected at the thoughts that a
bonny blue-eyed lass looked favourably on a less-lucky fellow than
himself?” vol. 2, p. 136. Such is the question put by Middlemas to
his friend Hartley, when speaking together on the subject of the
interesting Menic Grey, and his projected Indian trip. But how
could he ask if the bold adventurer fixed his thoughts on
him, when it was the person addressed who entertained the idea
of becoming one? and how, if the bold adventurer was
dejected? when he had already distinguished him, taking the
words in their proper application, as another individual in a
general sense. It is altogether a singular specimen of abstruse
phraseology. Then “fix his thoughts” “dejected at the
thoughts.” Fie upon it!

“Hartley fell a victim to his professional courage, in
withstanding the progress of a contagious distemper, which
he at length caught, and under which he sank,” vol. 2, p. 367. If
he withstood the progress of the disease, how could he fall a
victim to it? The author should have said, “in his endeavours to
withstand” or “arrest the progress of it.”

“So stood the feelings of the young man, when, one day after
dinner, the doctor snuffing the candle, and taking from his pouch
the great leathern pocketbook in which he deposited particular
papers, with a small supply of the most necessary and active
medicines, he took from it Mr. Monçada’s letters, and
requested Richard Middlemas’s serious attention,” vol. 2, p. 88 and
89. Who is he? the doctor? Is he not mentioned
before? And there he is left to stand without his natural support,
for he has taken it from him. Does not the
writer of this sentence recollect “My banks they are
furnished with bees.” I could add another take from to the
page by way of note.

The following I leave without comment.

“Judgement,” vol. 1, p. 2; vol. 6, p. 6. and judgment,
vol. 1, p. 85, a heraldic shield, vol. 1, p. 68;
desireable, vol. 2, p. 39.

As much iron as would have builded a brig, vol. 1, page
68. A good tune is grinded, vol. 1, p. 143. Butler and
Mercer had both spoke to their disparagement, vol. 2, p.
289.

Worthy Mr. Piper, best of contractors who ever furnished
four frampal jades, vol. 1, p. 45.

With the next morning I will still see the double summit
of the ancient Dan, vol. 1, p. 229.

And then I will find it easier to have you prosecuted,
vol. 2, p. 169.

We will be happy, if it is in our power, to repay a part
of our obligations, vol. 2, p. 222.

Thou art the fiend who hast occasioned my wretchedness in
this world, and who will share my eternal misery in the
next, vol. 2, p. 229.

He found himself under the alternative [pg 366] of
being with him on decent and distant terms, or of breaking off with
him altogether. The first of these courses might perhaps have been
the wisest, but the other was the most congenial to
the blunt and plain character of Hartley, vol. 2, p. 256.

He inquired at their superior for Barak el Hadgi, vol. 2,
p. 263.

And inquiring at those whom he considered the best
newsmongers, vol. 2, p. 276.

He faltered out inquiries at his niece, vol. 1, p.
20.

Your father asked none save at his courage and his sword,
vol. 1, p. 260.

The concluding (of) a literary undertaking, vol. 2, p.
1.

I would as soon dress a corpse, when the great fiend
himself—God sain us—stood visibly before us,
than when Elspat of the Free is amongst us, vol. 1, p. 250.
November 7, 1827. Oculus.²

LETTER

Written in the Condemned Cells, Newgate, by Captain Lee, the
night previous to his execution, being convicted of forging a bill
of exchange for 15l. on the Ordnance Office.

Newgate, March 3, 1784.

My Dear Sir,—Before this reaches you, the head that
dictates and the hand that traces these lines shall be no more.
Earthly cares shall all be swallowed up, and the death of an
unthinking man shall have atoned for the trespass he has committed
against the laws of his country. But ere the curtain be for ever
dropped, or remembrance leave this tortured breast, let me take
this last and solemn leave of one with whom I have passed so many
social and instructive hours, whose conversation I fondly
cultivated, and whose friendship for me I hope will remain, even
after the clay-cold hand of death has closed my eyes in everlasting
darkness.

I cannot think you will view this letter with stoic coolness, or
with listless indifference. Absorbed as the generality of men are
in the pursuits of pleasure or the avocations of business, there
are times when the mind looks inward upon itself, when a review of
past follies induces us to future amendment, and when a
consciousness of having acted wrong leads us to resolutions of
doing right. In one of those fortunate moments may you receive
these last admonitions! Shun but the rock on which I have struck,
and you will be sure to avoid the shipwreck I have suffered.
Initiated in the army at an early period of life, I soon
anticipated not only the follies, but even the vices of my
companions. Before, however, I could share with undisturbed repose
in the wickedness of others, it was necessary to remove from myself
what the infidel terms the prejudices of a Christian education. In
this I unfortunately succeeded; and conceiving from my tenderest
years a taste for reading, my sentiments were confirmed, not by the
flimsy effusions of empty libertines, but by the specious sophistry
of modern philosophers. It must be owned that at first I was rather
pleased with the elegance of their language than the force of their
reasoning; as, however, we are apt to believe what we eagerly wish
to be true, in a short time I soon became a professed deist. My
favourite author was the late celebrated David Hume. I constantly
urged his exemplary behaviour in private as a strong argument in
favour of his doctrines, forgetting that his literary life was
uniformly employed in diffusing his pernicious tenets, and his
utmost endeavours were constantly exerted in extending the baneful
influence of his philosophical principles. Happy for me had I
always been actuated by the considerations which fill my bosom at
this moment, and which I hope will animate me in that awful part
to-morrow’s sun shall see me perform. But the die is cast, and I
leave to the world this mournful memento, “that however much a man
may be favoured by personal qualifications, or distinguished by
mental endowments, genius will be useless, and abilities avail but
little, unless accompanied by a sense of religion, and attended by
the practice of virtue; destitute of these, he will only be mounted
on the wings of folly, that he may fall with greater force into the
dark abyss of endless despair.”

On my returning to a belief of the truths of Christianity, I
have been very much assisted by the pious exhortations of the
ordinary, as well as by the book he has put into my hands; and I
feel a comfort which I am unable to express by this his charitable
and benevolent attention to me. I believe there is no passion more
prevalent in the human breast than the wish that our memory should
be held in remembrance. I shudder at the thought lest my name
should be branded with infamy, when I lie mouldering in the dust,
as I know well that the tongue of malice is ever loud against the
failings of the unfortunate. When, however, my character is
insulted, and my poor reputation attacked, extenuate, I beseech
you, the enormity of my crime, by relating the hardships of my
sufferings. Tell to the [pg 367] giddy and affluent, that, strangers
to the severity of want, they know not the pain of withstanding the
almost irresistible calls of nature. The poor will, I trust,
commiserate my misfortunes, and shed a sympathetic tear at the
mournful tale of my miserable fate. I can say no more. Heaven have
mercy on us all!

Adieu for ever. J. LEE.

PARTING FOR THE POLE.

BARDS, OR POETS OF THE ANCIENT BRITONS.

(For the Mirror.)

This sect appears to have descended from Bardus, son of
Druis, king of Britain; he was much esteemed by the people
for inventing songs and music, in praise of meritorious actions;
and established an order, in which such of the people were admitted
as excelled in his art, distinguishing them by the name of
bards, after his own name. Julius Caesar reports, that on
his arrival he found some of them. Their business was to record the
noble exploits of their warriors in songs and ditties, which they
sung to their instruments at the solemn feasts of their chiefs; and
in such high estimation were they held, that, when two armies were
ready to engage, if a bard stept in between them, both sides
delayed the attack till he was out of danger.

As these bards were neither repugnant to the Roman authority nor
the Christian religion, they alone, above all other sects, were
suffered to continue long after the birth of Christ; and it is said
that some of them are still to be found in the isle of Bardsey, (so
named from them). Wisbech. T.C.

THE SCOTTISH PEASANT’S LAMENT.

BY THE AUTHOR OF AHAB.

(For the Mirror.)

Nov. 25. 1827. S.P.J.

ON A SQUINTING POETESS.

MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

No. XVI.

FISHING IN THE RIVER YEOU.

The fishery of the Yeou, in Bornou, is a very considerable
source of commerce to the inhabitants of its banks; and the manner
of fishing (as represented in the above engraving) is ingenious
though simple. The Bornouese make very good nets of a twine spun
from a perennial plant called kalimboa: the implements for
fishing are two large gourds nicely balanced, and fixed on a large
stem of bamboo, at the extreme ends; the fisherman launches this on
the river, and places himself astride between the two gourds, and
thus he floats with the stream, and throws his net. He has also
floats of cane, and weights, of small leathern bags of sand: he
beats up against the stream, paddling with his hands and feet,
previous to his drawing the net, which, as it rises from the water,
he lays before him as he sits; and with a sort of mace, which he
carries for the purpose, the fish are stunned by a single blow. His
drag, finished, the fish are taken out, and thrown into the gourds,
which are open at the top, to receive the produce of his labour.
These wells being filled, he steers for the shore, unloads, and
again returns to the sport.—Denhani’s Travels in
Africa.

ARABIAN HORSES.

Sir John Malcolm, in his Sketches of Persia, gives the
following interesting anecdotes of these noble
creatures:—

Hyder, the elchee’s master of the chase, was the person who
imparted knowledge to me on all subjects relating to Arabian
horses. He would descant by the hour on the qualities of a colt
that was yet untried, but which, he concluded, must possess all the
perfections of its sire and dam, with whose histories, and that of
their progenitors, he was well acquainted. Hyder had shares in five
or six famous brood mares; and he told me a mare was sometimes
divided amongst ten or twelve Arabs, which accounted for the groups
of half-naked fellows whom I saw watching, with anxiety, the
progress made by their managing partner in a bargain for one of the
produce. They often displayed, on these occasions, no small
violence of temper; and I have more than once observed a party
leading off their ragged colt in a perfect fury, at the blood of
Daghee or Shumehtee, or some renowned sire or grandsire, being
depreciated by an inadequate offer, from an ignorant Indian or
European.

The Arabs place still more value on their mares than on their
horses; but even the latter are sometimes esteemed beyond all
price. When the envoy, returning from his former mission, was
encamped near Bagdad, an Arab rode a bright bay horse of
extraordinary shape and beauty, before his tent, till he attracted
his notice. On being asked if he would sell him—”What will
you give me?” said he. “It depends upon his age; I suppose he is
past five?” “Guess again,” was the reply. “Four.” “Look at his
mouth,” said the Arab, with a smile. On examination he was found
rising three; this, from his size and perfect symmetry, greatly
enhanced his value. The envoy said, “I will give you fifty
tomans³.” “A little more, if you please,”
said the fellow, apparently entertained. “Eighty!—a hundred!”
He shook his head, and smiled. The offer came at last to two
hundred tomans! “Well,” said the Arab, seemingly quite satisfied,
“you need not tempt me any farther—it is of no use; you are a
fine elchee; you have fine horses, camels, and mules, and I am told
you have loads of silver and gold: now,” added he, “you want my
colt, but you shall not have him for all you have got.” So saying,
he rode off to the desert, whence he had come, and where he, no
doubt, amused his brethren with an account of what had passed
between him and the European envoy.

PARIS.

Paris is, as it were, abandoned to foreign travellers in
September and October. It is not till the first symptoms of cold
are felt somewhat severely, that life in the capital is resumed in
all its tumult. The Paris season is the reverse of that of London.
It commences at the end of November, and closes at the beginning of
May. The period of your hunting is that of our drawing-room
parties. Previous to November, Paris may be compared to a vast
lazaretto, where the valetudinarians of every country take
refuge.—Monthly Magazine

MUSICIAN OF MANDARA.

The above engraving represents one of the musicians of the
Sultan of Mandara; blowing a long pipe not unlike a clarionet,
ornamented with shells. These artists, with two immense trumpets
from twelve to fourteen feet long, borne by men on horseback, made
of pieces of hollow wood with a brass mouth-piece, usually precede
the sovereign on any important visit. The costume and attitude of
the musician are highly characteristic of savage mirth.

The chiefs in this part of Africa are also attended by a
band carrying drums, and singing extempore songs, a
translation of one of which is subjoined from “Denham’s Travels,”
whence the engraving is copied.

HUNTING IN PERSIA.

In Persia, persons of the highest rank lead their own greyhounds
in a long silken leash, which passes through the collar, and is
ready to slip the moment the huntsman chooses. The well-trained dog
goes alongside the horse, and keeps clear of him when at full
speed, and in all kinds of country. When a herd of antelopes is
seen, a consultation is held, and the most experienced determine
the point towards which they are to be driven. The field (as an
English sportsman would term it) then disperse, and while some
drive the herd in the desired direction, those with the dogs take
their post on the same line, at the distance of about a mile from
each other; one of the worst dogs is then slipped at the herd, and
from the moment he singles out an antelope the whole body are in
motion. The object of the horsemen who have greyhounds is to
intercept its course, and to slip fresh dogs, in succession, at the
fatigued animal. In rare instances the second dog kills. It is
generally the third or fourth; and even these, when the deer is
strong, and the ground favourable, often fail. This sport, which is
very exhilarating, was the delight of the late King of Persia, Aga
Mahomed Khan, whose taste is inherited by the present
sovereign.—Sketches of Persia.

PIOUS WATCHMEN IN NORWAY.

In Drontheim, the ancient capital of Norway, it appears, that
the guardians of the night not only watch, but pray
for the souls of the inhabitants. Mr. Brooke, in his recent
travels, says, “as each hour elapses, they are prepared with a
different kind of exhortation or prayer; which, forming a sort of
tune or chant, is sung by them during the drear hours of the
night.” Of one of these pious songs, he gives the following literal
translation:

“The voekter, or watchman, is armed with an instrument as
remarkable as his cry, being nothing less than a long pole, at the
end of which is a ball, well fortified with iron spikes. This
weapon is called morgen stierne, or the morning star. At
Drontheim, however, bands of pick-pockets and thieves are unknown,
and the morning star does little more than grace the hand of the
Norwegian watchman.”

As the axe of reform is just laid to the watching system of
London, we may profit by the example of our Northern brethren; for
it appears, they not only watch over the temporal, but spiritual
concerns of their citizens, and it should seem, with salutary
effect: but the vespers and matins, of a watchman in
England, would meet with many unholy interruptions.

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

LONDON CLUB-HOUSES.

Club-houses are by no means a new invention; and yet the
improvements upon the old plan, which was itself an improvement
upon the former coffee-house, is sufficiently interesting, and
sufficiently unknown to the people in general, to render some
account of their advantages not superfluous. The modern club is a
tavern and newsroom, where the members are both guests and
landlord. The capital is derived from a sum paid by each member on
entrance, and the general annual expenses, such as house-rent,
servants, &c. are defrayed by an annual subscription. The
society elects a committee for its execution and government, and
meets at stated intervals for legislative measures. The committee
appoint a steward to manage its affairs, and a secretary to keep
the accounts, to take minutes of the proceedings of meetings, and
transact the business of correspondence. The domestic servants are
placed under the immediate direction of the steward; but above all
in the choice of a cook, the discretion of the committee is most
especially exerted. A house being thus established where the
society is at home, the rooms are thrown open for their various
accommodation. In the apartments destined for eating, members may
breakfast, lunch, dine, and sup, as they list; a bill of fare of
great variety is prepared; and the gourmand has nothing more to do
than to study its contents, and write the names of the dishes he
desires on a bill prepared for the purpose; to mention whether he
orders dinner for himself alone, or in company with others; and at
what time he chooses to dine, whether immediately, or at some
subsequent hour. At the close of his dinner this bill or demand is
presented to him with the prices annexed, and prompt payment is the
law.

Wine is bottled in quarts, pints, and even half-pints, and may
be had at some institutions even in glasses: it is not needless to
observe, moreover, that there is no necessity either of fashion or
regulation to drink it at all. At an inn, a bottle of wine must be
ordered for the “good of the house,” that the waiter may not
despise you and be surly: that, in short, the guest may be
tolerably accommodated in other matters; although, perhaps, the
wine itself (wretched stuff generally at inns) is his
abhorrence—though he may never drink any thing but water, and
may send the decanter away untouched—the tax must be paid.
Besides this entertainment for the grosser senses, the more refined
appetites are considered. In some clubs, the “Travellers” for
instance, a library is provided; and at most of them, even the most
unintellectual, a library of reference is supplied. Here all the
periodicals of the day are laid upon the tables—both those of
Great Britain and of the continent, together with the newspapers,
metropolitan and provincial, and in some instances the political
journals of Paris. This part of the house may be considered the
general resort of the gossippers and quidnuncs; and here, or in
other more commodious places, materials for writing, paper, pens,
lights, &c. are found. Drawing-rooms, one or more, are next to
be mentioned—here the members take their tea or their ease;
and where cards are played, this is the scene of operation. A
billiard-room is an agreeable addition to the accommodation of the
society’s house, and several of the inferior apartments are always
devoted to serve as dressing-rooms. It is clear, that a bachelor
wants nothing beyond this but a bed; if he chooses to live in this
sort of public privacy he may; and should he be only a sojourner in
town, the convenience of a resort of this kind wherein he may make
his appointments, receive and write his letters, see society, take
his dinner, spend his evening, if not otherwise engaged, over the
books, the newspapers, or a rubber of whist, and do all but
sleep—a bed in the neighbourhood may supply the article of
repose.—Thus all physical wants, and many social ones, are
abundantly, and even luxuriously supplied.—London
Magazine.

[While upon “clubs,” we may as well advert to the prospectus of
“The Literary Club,” which has reached us since our last. It
professes to be “associated for the assistance of men of
letters, the development of talent, and the furtherance of the
interests of literature.” It not only aims at charitable
provision for the weaknesses and infirmities of nature, but
anticipates “harmony and friendship” among literary men, and “as
little as possible on any system of exclusion.” This is as it
should be; but we fear the workings and conflicts of passion and
interest are still too strong to admit of such harmony among the
sons of genius. Authorship is becoming, if not already become, too
much of a trade or craft to admit of such a pacificatory scheme:
but the object of the association is one of the highest importance
to literature, and we heartily wish it success.—ED.
MIRROR.]

ENGLISH AND FRENCH.

Why are the English so fond of clubs, corporate bodies,
joint-stock companies, and large associations of all
kinds?—Because they are the most unsociable set of people in
the world; for being mostly at variance with each other, they are
glad to get any one else to join and be on their side; having no
spontaneous attraction, they are forced to fasten themselves into
the machine of society; and each holds out in his individual
shyness and reserve, till he is carried away by the crowd, and
borne with a violent, but welcome, shock against some other mass of
aggregate prejudice or self-interest. The English join together to
get rid of their sharp points and sense of uncomfortable
peculiarity. Hence their clubs, their mobs, their sects, their
parties, their spirit of co-operation, and previous understanding
in every thing. An English mob is a collection of violent and
headstrong humours, acting with double force from each man’s
natural self-will, and the sense of opposition to others; and the
same may be said of the nation at large. The French unite and
separate more easily; and therefore do not collect into such
formidable masses, and act with such unity and tenacity of purpose.
It is the same with their ideas, which easily join together, and
easily part company, but do not form large or striking masses; and
hence the French are full of wit and fancy, but without imagination
or principle. The French are governed by fashion, the English by
cabal. London Weekly Review.

PROTESTANT BURIAL-GROUND AT ROME.

The Cemeterio degli Inglesi, or the Protestant burial-ground,
stretches calmly and beautifully below the Pyramid of Cestius. The
site was admirably chosen,—nothing can be more poetically and
religiously sepulchral than this most attractive spot. It is worth
a thousand churches. No one can stand long there without feeling in
full descent upon his spirit the very best influences of the grave.
The rich, red, ruinous battlements of the city, broken only by the
calm and solid unity of the Pyramid; the clustering foliage
beginning to brown on the ancient towers of the entrance; the deep,
still, blue sky; the fluttering leaves of the vines which floated
around, as one by one they dropped from the branches; the freshness
of the green mounds at my feet,—these and a thousand other
features, fully felt at the time, but untranslateable to writing,
conveyed precisely that philosophy of Death which the poet and
sculptor have more than once attempted to breathe over their most
enchanting works, and which here seems an emanation from every
object which you feel or see. I would place in this spot their
Genius of Repose, that beautiful statue which joins its hands
indolently on its head, and casts its melancholy eyes for ever
towards the earth; that statue, so beautiful that it has been often
confounded with the Grecian Eros, or the Celestial Love, and is, in
itself, the best type of the messenger who is one day to lead us
gently from the heat and toils of this world, into the coolness and
tranquillity of the next. Every thing here is in unison with these
thoughts. At a few paces distant from the Pyramid, and adjoining
the wall, the Cippi and funeral Soroi of the Strangers are to be
seen. The bright verdure and the bright marbles, the classical
purity of the monuments, the desert air, the austere solemnity of
every thing about me, came with new force upon my imagination. I
walked slowly amongst the tombs, and tried to decipher the
inscriptions. The dead are of various nations,—English,
American, but principally German. Sometimes a cluster of cypresses
shadowed the tomb—sometimes a fair flowering shrub had twined
around it. The epitaphs were written with elegance always; at times
with the deepest tenderness and beauty. Each had his short history,
each his melancholy interest and adventure. Here was the man of
science and literature, who came to lay down his head, after a
painful and varied pilgrimage, in this City of the Soul. A Humboldt
was buried here; a Thorwalsden yet may. Here reposes clay too
finely tempered for the unkindnesses of mankind—Keats lies
near;—a little farther is one who, on the point of quitting
Rome to rejoin an affectionate family after a too long absence,
full of the anticipations of the traveller and of youth, is thrown
from his carriage at a mile’s distance from the city, and never
quits Rome more;—beside him is an only child, whom the sun of
Italy could not save;—and next, one who perished suddenly,
like Miss Bathurst, in the very bud and bloom of
existence,—or another, who died away, day after day, in the
embraces of her parents, and now rests in the midst of the
beautiful in vain. The graceful lines of Petrarch are inscribed on
the sarcophagus—they are full of feeling and the country, and
make one pause and dream:—

No epitaph could be better. New Monthly Magazine.

QUACKS

Have nearly the same interest as knaves in concealing their
ignorance and frauds, and for the most part regard with the same
fear and detestation the instrument which unmasks their
pretensions. This must be understood with some qualification,
because the exposure of ignorance and fraud is not always
sufficient to open the eyes, and enlighten the understandings, of
mankind. Some perverse dupes are not to be reasoned out of their
infatuation; they had rather hug the impostor, than confess the
cheat; and quacks, speculating upon this infirmity of human nature,
will sometimes court even an infamous
notoriety.—Lancet.

ANECDOTES OF THE MARVELLOUS.

Charming away the Hooping Cough.

An English lady, the wife of an officer, accompanied her husband
to Dublin not very long ago, when his regiment was ordered to that
station. She engaged an Irish girl as nurse-maid in her family;
and, a short time after her arrival, was astonished by an urgent
request from this damsel, to permit her to charm little miss
from ever having the hooping-cough, (then prevailing in
Dublin). The lady inquired how this charming business was
performed; and not long after had, in walking through the streets,
many times the pleasure of witnessing the process, which is simply
this:—An ass is brought before the door of a house, into
whose mouth a piece of bread is introduced; and the child being
passed three times over and under the animal’s body, the charm is
completed; and of its efficacy in preventing the spread of a very
distressing, and sometimes fatal disorder, the lower class of Irish
are certain.

The Legend of Hell Mary Hill.

Not many miles from Sheffield, as I was told by one who resided
near the place, there is a forest; and in an out-of-the-way part of
it, a hill, tolerably high, covered with wood, and vulgarly called
Hell Mary Hill, though probably this is a name corrupted from one
more innocent or holy. Near the top of it is a cave, containing, it
is said, a chest of money,—a great iron chest,
so full, that when the sun shines bright upon it, the gold
can be seen through the key-hole; but it has never yet been stolen,
because, in the first place, a huge black cat (and wherever a black
cat is there is mischief, you may be sure) guards the treasure,
which bristles up, and, fixing a gashful gaze on the
would-be marauder, with fiery eyes, seems ready to devour him if he
approach within a dozen yards of the cave; and, secondly, whenever
this creature is off guard, (and it has occasionally been seen in a
neighbouring village,) and the treasure has been attempted to be
withdrawn from its tomb, no mortal rope has been able to sustain
its weight, each that has been tried invariably breaking when the
coffer was at the very mouth of the cave; which, being endowed with
the gift of locomotion, has immediately retrograded into its
pristine situation! I have mentioned this tradition, as it was told
to me, because it is so curiously coincident with the German
superstition of treasure buried within the Hartz mountains,
guarded, and ever disappointing the cupidity of those who would
discover and possess themselves of it.

Fairy Loaves.

Being lately in Norfolk, I discovered that the rustics belonging
to the part of it in which I was staying, particularly regarded a
kind of fossil-stone, which much resembled a sea-egg petrified, and
was found frequently in the flinty gravel of that county. They
esteemed such stones sacred to the elfin train, and termed them
fairy loaves, forbearing to touch them, lest misfortunes should
come upon them for the sacrilege. An old woman told me, that as she
was trudging home one night from her field-work, she took up one of
these fossils, and was going to carry it home with her; but was
soon obliged to drop it, and take to her heels as quick as might
be, from hearing a wrathful voice exclaim, though she saw nobody,
“Give me my loaf! Give me back my loaf, I say!”—New London
Literary Gazette.

FINE ARTS

HOGARTH’S MARRIAGE-A-LA-MODE.

Hogarth’s admirable series of pictures, entitled
Marriage-à-la-mode, were at first slightly treated by
the public, at which the artist was greatly incensed. Being in want
of money, he was at length obliged to dispose of them to Mr. Lane,
of Hillington, for one hundred and twenty guineas. The pictures
being in good frames, which cost Hogarth four guineas a piece, his
remuneration for painting this valuable series was but a few
shillings more than one hundred pounds. On the demise of Mr. Lane,
they became the property of his nephew, Colonel Cawthorn, who very
highly valued them. In the year 1797 they were sold by auction, at
[pg
373] Christie’s, Pall Mall, for the sum of one thousand
guineas; the liberal purchaser being the late Mr. Angerstein. They
now belong to government, and are the most attractive objects in
the National Gallery.

HAMPTON COURT PALACE.

The gardens and park, which are three miles in circumference,
appear to me to be above all competition. As you enter, you are
struck with the majestic beauty of the trees, and the fine gravel
walks. As you advance, the fountains and statues demand your
admiration; particularly the famous Gladiator, which was
brought from Rome. While in the gardens, the statues of Flora,
Ceres, Pomona, and Diana, placed on the west front of the building,
are seen to much advantage.

The magnificent palace was originally built by Cardinal Wolsey,
and consists of three principal quadrangles. Here Cromwell resided,
and it was the favourite residence of William and Mary. It is
chiefly built of brick, and is very capacious, more so than any
other royal palace in the British empire. Arriving at the great
entrance, you almost seem as if you were about to enter a fairy
castle. The floor of the hall is laid out in beautiful square slabs
of marble, and a staircase of the same material leads you to the
upper apartments, which contain pictures and numerous
curiosities.

Among the fine paintings, I shall notice a few, which appear to
me as being perfect master-pieces. But I must first take the
liberty of saying a word or two about the gentleman who
conducts you through the rooms to explain the several
pictures. When I had the pleasure of being with him, his hair was
powdered, and he carried a silver-headed cane. He hurried me
through the rooms, filling my ears with such gibberish as
this:—”That ere picture, sir, up there, was painted, five
hundred years ago, for William the Conqueror, by Wandyke.”⁴ This is no mean blunder in
chronology!

There is a fine portrait of William the Third on
horseback, of the size of life, by Sir Godfrey Kneller; the
horse is painted in a side view, and has a good effect. There are
eight fine female portraits of distinguished personages, by the
same hand, in the highest state of preservation.

Bandinella, the Sculptor, by Corregio, is a most
beautiful portrait. The face of the sculptor is full of vivid
expression, and the gold chain about his neck is almost a
deception. This painting, and a Holy Family, are all we find
of the great Corregio at Hampton Court.

Charles the First, on horseback, by Sir A. Vandyke, is
certainly much superior to the portrait of William, mentioned
above. As a painter, Sir Godfrey cannot be ranked with Vandyke,
though, I believe, the former considered himself much higher in the
arts than the latter. The picture before us is an admirable
specimen of Vandyke’s powers.

George the Third, likewise on horseback, reviewing his
troops on Hounslow Heath, by Sir William Beechey, R.A. This picture
is unquestionably one of Sir William’s best productions, and does
honour to the fine arts of this country. With the above portraits,
there are others by West, &c., which possess considerable
merit.

There are, also, several choice specimens of Titian, Holbein,
and Domenichino; with a few cabinet pictures in the Dutch school,
by Teniers, Ostade, &c. In this palace are Raphael’s celebrated
cartoons, which are too well known to need describing in
this place. G.W.N.

THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

A BALLAD SINGER.

A Ballad-Singer is a town-crier for the advertising of
lost tunes. Hunger hath made him a wind-instrument; his want is
vocal, and not he. His voice had gone a-begging before he took it
up, and applied it to the same trade; it was too strong to hawk
mackerel, but was just soft enough for “Robin Adair.” His business
is to make popular songs unpopular,—he gives the air, like a
weather-cock, with many variations. As for a key, he has but
one—a latch-key—for all manner of tunes; and as they
are to pass current amongst the lower sorts of people, he makes his
notes like a country banker’s, as thick as he can. His tones have a
copper sound, for he sounds for copper; and for the musical
divisions he hath no regard, but sings on, like a kettle, without
taking any heed of the bars. Before beginning he clears his pipe
with gin; and is always hoarse from the thorough draft in his
throat. He hath but one shake, and that is in winter. His voice
sounds flat, from flatulence; and he fetches breath, like a
drowning kitten, whenever he can. Notwithstanding all this, his
music gains ground, for it walks with him from end to end of the
street. He is [pg 374] your only performer that requires not
many entreaties for a song; for he will chant, without asking, to a
street cur, or a parish post. His only backwardness is to a stave
after dinner, seeing that he never dines; for he sings for bread,
and though corn has ears, sings very commonly in vain. As for his
country, he is an Englishman, that by his birthright may sing
whether he can or not. To conclude, he is reckoned passable in the
city, but is not so good off the stones.—Whims and
Oddities. Second series.

VOYAGE UP THE MISSISSIPPI.

On leaving New Orleans, in ascending the river, the country,
still the same continuous flat, is enriched and enlivened by a
succession of pretty houses and plantations, with each a small
negro town near them, as well as the sugar-houses, gardens, and
summer-houses, which give the idea of wealth and industry. For
sixty miles the banks present the appearance of one continued
village skirted with plantations of cotton, sugar-cane, and rice,
for about two miles from the river, bounded in the rear, by the
uncultivated swamps and woods. The boat proceeds continually near
the shore on one side or the other, and attracts the inhabitants to
the front of their neat houses, placed amidst orange groves, and
shaded with vines and beautiful evergreens. I was surprised to see
the swarms of children of all colours that issued from these
abodes. In infancy, the progeny of the slave, and that of his
master, seem to know no distinction; they mix in their sports, and
appear as fond of each other as the brothers and sisters of one
family; but in activity, life, joy, and animal spirits, the little
negro, unconscious of his future situation seems to me to enjoy
more pleasure in this period of existence, than his pale
companions. The sultry climate of Louisiana, perhaps, is more
congenial to the African constitution, than to that of the
European.

The next morning we arrived at Baton Rouge, 127 miles on our
journey; a pretty little town, on the east side, and the first
rising ground we had seen, being delightfully situated on a gradual
acclivity, from which is a fine view of the surrounding flats. The
fine barracks close to it, contain a few companies of troops. We
here stopped to take in some ladies, who continued with us till the
end of the voyage. To this place the leveé, or artificial
banks, are continued on both sides of the river from New Orleans,
without which the land would be continually overflowed. From this
to Natches (232 miles,) the country is not interesting, consisting
principally of dense forest and wilderness, impenetrable to the
eye, diversified, however, by the various water fowl which the
passing vessels disturb, in their otherwise solitary haunts, and by
the number of black and grey squirrels leaping from branch to
branch in the trees. The great blue kingfisher, which is common
here, is so tame, as scarcely to move, as the boat passes, and we
frequently saw, and passed close to large alligators, which
generally appeared to be asleep, stretched on the half-floating
logs. Several were fired at from the vessel, but none procured. One
pair that I saw together, must have been each upwards of twelve
feet long.

Natches is a pleasantly situated town, or rather a steep hill,
about half a mile from the landing place, where are many stores and
public houses. The boat remained here an hour, and we ascended to
the upper town, a considerable place, with a town-house, and
several good streets and well-furnished shops, in which we
purchased some books. This place exports much cotton, and the
planters are said to be rich. It commands a fine prospect over the
river and surrounding country. It has been tried as a summer
residence by some of the inhabitants of New Orleans, but the
scourges of this part of America (fever and ague) extend their
ravages for more than 1000 miles higher up. A partial elevation of
ground, in an unhealthy district, has been proved to be more
pernicious, than even the level itself. From hence, to the junction
of the Ohio, there is little to interest the stranger, excepting
the diversity of wood and water. The ground rises in some places,
though with little variety, till you pass the junction of the Ohio,
1253 miles from the sea. Shortly after entering the Ohio, the
country begins to improve; you perceive the ground beginning to
rise in the distance, and the bank occasionally to rear into small
hills, which show their strata of stone, and rise into bluffs,
projecting into the bends of the river, shutting it in, so as to
produce the effect of sailing on a succession of the finest lakes,
through magnificent woods, which momentarily changed their form,
from the rapid motion of our boat. It was now full moon, and these
scenes viewed during the clear nights, were indescribably
beautiful.—Bullock’s Journey to New York.

IRISH TWINS.

The Miss Mac Taafs were both on the ground, and both standing
enough in [pg 375] profile, to give Lord Arranmore a
full and perfect view of their figure, without being seen by them.
His first opinion was, that they were utterly unchanged; and that
like the dried specimens of natural history, they had bidden
defiance to time. Tall, stately, and erect, their weather-beaten
countenance and strongly marked features were neither faded nor
fallen in. The deep red hue of a frosty and vigorous senility still
coloured their unwrinkled faces. Their hair, well powdered and
pomatumed, was drawn up by the roots from their high foreheads,
over their lofty “systems;” and their long, lank necks rose like
towers above their projecting busts; which, with their straight,
sticky, tight-laced waists, terminating in the artificial rotundity
of a half-dress bell-hoop, gave them the proportions of an
hour-glass. They wore grey camlet riding habits, with large black
Birmingham buttons (to mark the slight mourning for their deceased
brother-in-law): while petticoats, fastened as pins did or did not
their office, shewed more of the quilted marseilles and stuff
beneath, than the precision of the toilet required: both of which,
from their contact with the water of the bog, merited the epithet
of “Slappersallagh,” bestowed on their wearers by Terence O’Brien.
Their habit-shirts, chitterlings, and cravats, though trimmed with
Trawlee lace, seemed by their colour to evince that yellow starch,
put out of fashion by the ruff of the murderous Mrs. Turner in
England, was still to be had in Ireland. Their large, broad silver
watches, pendant from their girdle by massy steel chains, showed
that their owners took as little account of time as time had taken
of them. “Worn for show, not use,” they were still without those
hands, which it had been in the contemplation of the Miss Mac Taafs
to have replaced by the first opportunity, for the last five years.
High-crowned black-beaver hats, with two stiff, upright, black
feathers, that seemed to bridle like their wearers, and a large
buckle and band, completed the costume of these venerable specimens
of human architecture: the tout ensemble recalling to the
nephew the very figures and dresses which had struck him with
admiration and awe when first brought in from the Isles of Arran by
his foster mother, to pay his duty to his aunts, and ask their
blessing, eighteen years before. The Miss Mac Taafs, in their
sixty-first year, (for they were twins,) might have sunk with
safety ten or twelve years of their age. Their minds and persons
were composed of that fibre which constitutes nature’s veriest
huckaback. Impressions fell lightly on both; and years and feelings
alike left them unworn and uninjured.—The O’Briens, and
the O’Flahertys, by Lady Morgan.

AUTUMN.

BY JOHN CLARE.

THE GATHERER.

“I am but a Gatherer and disposer of other men’s
stuff,”—Wotton.

HOLY WATER.

A friend of mine (says Mr. Lambert, in his Travels,) was once
present at the house of a French lady in Canada, when a violent
thunder storm commenced. The shutters were immediately closed, and
the room darkened. The lady of the house, not willing to leave the
safety of herself and company to chance, began to search her
closets for the bottle of holy water, which, by a sudden flash of
lightning, she fortunately found. The bottle was uncorked, and its
contents immediately sprinkled over the ladies and gentlemen. It
was a most dreadful storm, and lasted a considerable time; she
therefore redoubled her sprinklings and benedictions at every clap
of thunder or flash of lightning. At length the storm abated, and
the party were providentially saved from its effects; which the
good lady attributed solely to the precious water. But when the
shutters were opened, and the light admitted, the company found, to
the destruction of their white gowns and muslin handkerchiefs;
their coats, waistcoats, and breeches, that instead of holy water,
the pious lady had sprinkled them with ink. W.P.

QUID PRO QUO.

Louis XVIII. asked the Duke of Wellington familiarly, how old he
was; the latter replied, “Sire, I was born in the year 1768.” “And
so was Buonaparte,” rejoined the king; “Providence owed us this
compensation.” C.F.E.

NAUTICAL EPITAPHS.

In the west part of Fife, in the churchyard of the village of
Torryburn, part of an epitaph remains, which deserves notice. A
part was very absurdly erased by the owner of the burying ground,
to make way for the names of some of his kindred. The whole epitaph
formerly stood thus:

Another, in the parish of Duffus (Morayshire), runs thus:

ON A DRUNKEN COBBLER.

WATER GRUEL.

In an old paper, dated Friday, 13th Aug. 1695, is the following
curious advertisement:—

“At the marine coffee-house, in Birchin-lane, is water-gruel to
be sold every morning from six till eleven of the clock. ‘Tis not
yet thoroughly known; but there comes such company as drinks
usually four or five gallons in a morning.” G.S.

A clergyman being on the road to his country living, (to which
he pays an annual visit,) was stopped by a friend, who asked him
where he could be going so far from town,—”Like other
people,” replied he, “to my parish.” C.F.E.

THE LETTER C.

Curious coincidences respecting the letter C, as connected with
the lamented Princess Charlotte.

Her mother’s name was Caroline, her own name was Charlotte; that
of her consort Coburg; she was married at Carlton house; her town
residence was at Camelford house, the late owner of which Lord
Camelford, was untimely killed in a duel; her country residence,
Claremont, not long ago the property of Lord Clive, who ended his
days by suicide; she died in Childbed, the name of her accoucheur
being Croft. C.F.E.

GIVING AND TAKING.

(From the French.)

GEORGE SAVILLE CAREY.

This amiable man told me that his affecting song, “When my money
was gone,” &c. was suggested by the real story of a sailor, who
came to beg money while Carey was breakfasting, with an open
window, at the beautiful inn at Stoney Cross, in the New
Forest.

He also declared that his father, Henry Carey, wrote the song of
“God save the King,” in the house in Hatton-Garden, which has a
stone bracket, a few doors from the Police-office.

[In No. 282 of The MIRROR, we omitted our acknowledgment to a
well-executed illustrative work (now in course of publication),
intitled “London in the Nineteenth Century,” of which our artist
availed himself for his View of Hanover Terrace, Regent’s
Park. The drawing in the above work is by Mr. T.H. Shepherd; and
the literary department (of which we did not avail ourselves) is by
Mr. Elmes, author of “the Life of Sir Christopher Wren.”]

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Footnote 1:(return)

Probably on the plan of the lord mayor’s household table. Well,
Swift is right in supposing the great art of life to be that of
hoaxing.

Footnote 2:(return)

We are compelled to defer our Correspondent’s Notes on his
second reading of Ivanhoe—Ed.

Footnote 3:(return)

A toman is a nominal coin nearly the value of a pound
sterling.

Footnote 4:(return)

Sir Antony Vandyke, who died about the year 1640.

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