THE MIRROR
OF
LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

Epsom New Race Stand.

We do not wish to compete with the “List of all the running
horse-es, with the names, weights, and colours of the
riders,” although the proximity of our publication day to the
commencement of Epsom Races (June 2), has induced us to
select the above subject for an illustration.

The erection of the New Race Stand is the work of a company,
entitled the “Epsom Grand Stand Association”—the
capital £20,000, in 1,000 shares of £20 each. The
speculation is patronized by the Stewards of the Jockey Club,
and among the trustees is one of the county members, C.N.
Pallmer, Esq. The building is now roofed in, and temporary
accommodation will be provided for visitors at the ensuing
Spring Races. It is after the model of the Stand at
Doncaster, but is much larger, and will accommodate from 4 to
5,000 persons. The style of the architecture is Grecian.

The building is 156 feet in width, including the Terrace, and
60 feet in depth, having a portico the width, returning on
each side, which is connected with a spacious terrace, raised
ten feet above the level of the ground, and a magnificent
flight of steps in the centre. The columns of the portico are
of the Doric order, supporting a balcony, or gallery, which
is to be covered by a verandah, erected on small ornamental
iron pillars, placed over those below. The upper part of the
Stand is to have a balustrade the whole width of the front.
With reference to the interior arrangements, there are four
large and well-proportioned rooms for refreshments, &c.;
a spacious hall, leading through a screen of Doric columns to
a large and elegant staircase of stone, and on each side of
the staircase are retiring rooms of convenience for
gentlemen. The entrance to this floor is from the
abovementioned terrace and portico in front; and also, at the
back, by an entrance which forms a direct communication
through the building. The first floor consists of a splendid
room, 108 feet in length, and 34 in width, divided into three
compartments by ornamental columns
[pg
354] and pilasters, supporting a richly paneled
ceiling, and having a direct communication with the balcony,
or gallery; and on each side of the staircase there are
retiring rooms for the ladies, with the same arrangements as
those below for the gentlemen. The roof will contain about
2,000 persons standing; affording, at the same time, an
opportunity for every one to see the whole of the race (Derby
Course) which at one time was considered doubtful.

The architect is Mr. W. Trendall; and the builder Mr.
Chadwick.

By a neat plan from a survey by Mr. Mogg, the “Stand” is
about ten poles from the Winning Post. It must have a most
commanding view of the surrounding country–but, anon, “may
we be there to see.”

HISTORY OF COALS.

(For the Mirror.)

Coals are found in several parts of the continent of Europe,
but the principal mines are in this country. They have been
discovered and wrought in Newfoundland, Cape Breton, Canada,
and in some of the provinces of New England. China abounds in
them, and they are well known in Tartary, and in the Island
of Madagascar.

We find (says Brand) express mention of coals, used as a fuel
by artificers about 2,000 years ago, in the writings of
Theophrastus, the scholar of Aristotle, who, in his book on
Stones, gives the substance; though some writers have not
scrupled to affirm, that coal was unknown to the Ancient
Britons, yet others have adduced proofs to the contrary,
which seem, to carry along with them little less than
conviction. The first charter for the license of digging
coals, was granted by King Henry III. in the year 1239; it
was there denominated sea coal; and, in 1281, Newcastle was
famous for its great trade in this article; but in 1306, the
use of sea coal was prohibited at London, by proclamation.
Brewers, dyers, and other artificers, who had occasion for
great fires, had found their account in substituting our
fossil for dry wood and charcoal; but so general was the
prejudice against it at that time, that the nobles and
commons assembled in parliament, complained against the use
thereof as a public nuisance, which was thought to corrupt
the air with its smoke and stink. Shortly after this, it was
the common fuel at the King’s palace in London; and, in 1325,
a trade was opened between France and England, in which corn
was imported, and coal exported. Stowe in his “Annals” says,
“within thirty years last the nice dames of London would not
come into any house or roome where sea coales were burned;
nor willingly eat of the meat that was either sod or roasted
with sea coal fire.”

Tinmouth Priory had a colliery at Elwick, which in 1330 was
let at the yearly rent of five pounds; in 1530 it was let for
twenty pounds a year, on condition that not more than twenty
chaldron should be drawn in a day; and eight years after, at
fifty pounds a year, without restriction on the quantity to
be wrought. In Richard the Second’s time, Newcastle coals
were sold at Whitby, at three shillings and four-pence per
chaldron; and in the time of Henry VIII. their price was
twelvepence a chaldron in Newcastle; in London about four
shillings, and in France they sold for thirteen nobles per
chaldron. Queen Elizabeth obtained a lease of the manors and
coal mines of Gateshead and Whickham, which she soon
transferred to the Earl of Leicester. He assigned it to his
secretary, Sutton, the founder of the Charter-house, who also
made assignment of it to Sir W. Riddell and others, for the
use of the Mayor and Burgesses of Newcastle. Duties were laid
upon this article to assist in building St. Paul’s Church,
and fifty parish churches in London after the great fire; and
in 1677, Charles II. granted to his natural son, Charles
Lenox, Duke of Richmond, and his heirs, a duty of one
shilling a chaldron on coals, which continued in his family
till it was purchased by government in 1800. The collieries
in the vicinity of Newcastle are perhaps the most valuable
and extensive in Europe, and afford nearly the whole supply
of the metropolis, and of those counties on the eastern coast
deficient in coal strata; thus—

Iago’s Edge Hill, p. 106.

P.T.W.

ALEHOUSE SIGNS.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

Two of your correspondents have puzzled themselves in seeking
the origin of the old Cat and Fiddle sign. The one has been
led away by a love of etymology—the other would string
the fiddle at the [pg 355] expense of poor puss’s
viscera. Now laying aside conjecture and the subtleties of
language, suppose we consult plain matter of fact? It is then
generally allowed that the tones of a flute resemble the
human voice: those of a clarionet, the notes of a
goose: and, all the world knows that a well-played
violin (especially in the practice of gliding) yields sounds
so inseparable from the strains of a cat, as not to be
distinguished by the mere amateur of musical science.

In conformity, therefore, with this last truth, the small
fiddles which Dancing-masters carry in their pockets, are at
this day called kits. But our etymologist will readily
perceive this to be a mere abbreviation, and that they must
originally have been known as kittens.

E.D. Jun.

ANACHRONISMS RESPECTING DR. JOHNSON.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

In justice to myself and the readers of the MIRROR, I must be
allowed to offer a few apologetic remarks on the almost
unpardonable anachronisms which I so inadvertently suffered
to occur in my communication on the subject of Dr. Johnson’s
Residence in Bolt Court. But when I state that the
chronological metathesis occurred entirely in consequence of
my referring to that most treacherous portion of human
intellect, the memory; and that it is upwards of seven years
since I read “Boswell’s Life of Johnson,” or “Johnson’s
Poets,” it may be some mitigation of the censure I so justly
deserve. Yet I may be suffered to suggest to your
correspondent, who has so kindly corrected me, that my paper
was more in the suppository style than he seems to have
imagined; and that I did not assert that Boswell, Savage, and
Johnson, met at the latter’s “house in Bolt Court, and
discussed subjects of polite literature.” The expression used
is, “We can imagine,” &c. constituting a creation
of the fancy rather than a positive portraiture. Certain it
is that Johnson’s dwelling was in the neighbourhood of Temple
Bar at the time of the nocturnal perambulation alluded to;
and that it was Savage (to whom he was so unaccountably
attached, in spite of the “bastard’s” frailties) who enticed
the doctor from his bed to a midnight ramble. My primary
mistake consists in transposing the date of the doctor’s
residence in Bolt Court, and introducing Savage at the era of
Boswell’s acquaintance with Johnson; whereas the wayward poet
finished his miserable existence in a prison, at Bristol, 21
years prior to that event. Here I may be allowed a remark or
two on the animadversion which has been heaped on Johnson for
that beautiful piece of biography, “The Life of Richard
Savage.” It has hitherto been somewhat of a mystery that the
stern critic whose strictures so severely exposed the
minutest derelictions of genius in all other instances,
should have adopted “the melting mood” in detailing the life
of such a man as Savage; for, much as we may admire the
concentrated smiles and tears of his two poems, “The
Bastard,” and “The Wanderer,” pitying the fortunes and
miseries of the author, yet his ungovernable temper and
depraved propensities, which led to his embruing his hands in
blood, his ingratitude to his patrons and benefactors, (but
chiefly to Pope,) and his degraded misemployment of talents
which might have raised him to the capital of the proud
column of intellect of that day,—all conduce to petrify
the tear of mingled mercy and compassion, which the
misfortunes of such a being might otherwise demand.
Nevertheless, as was lately observed by a respectable
journal, “there must have been something good about
him, or Samuel Johnson would not have loved him.”

**H.

DREAMS.

(For the Mirror.)

Deal. Reginald Augustine

[pg
356]

SCOTCH SONG.

(For the Mirror.)

C. Cole.

The Sketch-Book.

THE LOVER STUDENT.

(For the Mirror.)

——He was but a poor undergraduate; not, indeed,
one of lowest grade, but still too much lacking pecuniary
supplies to render him an “eligible match.” Julia, too,
though pretty, was portionless; and the world, which always
kindly interests itself in such affairs, said, they had no
business whatever to become attached to each other; but then,
such attachments and the world, never did, and never will
agree; and I, from fatal experience, assert that what
people impertinently call “falling in love,” is a thing that
cannot be helped; I, at least, never could help
it. The regard of Millington and Julia was of a very peculiar
nature; it was a morsel of platonism, which is rather too
curious to pass unrecorded; for as far as I have been able,
upon the most minute investigation to ascertain, they never
spoke to each other during the period of their tender
acquaintance. No; they were not dumb, but lacking a mutual
friend to give them an introduction; their regard for decorum
and etiquette was too great to permit them to speak otherwise
than with their eyes. Millington had kept three terms, when I
arrived at —— College, a shy and gawky freshman;
we had been previously acquainted, and he, pitying perhaps my
youth and inexperience, patronized his playmate, and I became
his chum. For some time I was at a loss to account for sundry
fluctuations in Henry’s disposition and manners. He shunned
society and would neither accept invitations to wine and
supper parties in other men’s rooms, nor give such in his
own; nevertheless his person seemed to have become an object
of the tenderest regard; never was he so contented as when
rambling through the streets and walks, without his gown, in
a new and well cut suit; whilst in order eternally to display
his figure to the best advantage, he was content to endure as
heavy an infliction of fines and impositions, as the heads of
his college could lay upon his shoulders. He was ruined for a
reading-man. About this period he also had a perfect mania
for flowers; observing which, and fancying I might gratify my
friend by such a mark of attention, I one day went to his
rooms with a large bouquet in either hand. He was not at
home; but having carelessly enough forgotten to lock his
door, I commenced, con amore, (anticipating the
agreeable surprise which I should afford him) to fill his
vases with fresh, bright, and delicious summer flowers, in
lieu of the very mummies of their race by which they were
occupied. My work was in progress when Millington returned,
but, oh! good heavens! the rage, the profane, diabolical,
incomprehensible rage into which he burst! I shall never
forget. Away went my beautiful, my fragrant flowers, into the
court, and seizing upon the remnant of the mummies, as yet
untouched by my sacrilegious fingers, he tossed them into a
drawer, double locked it, and ordered me out of the room.
Dreading a kick, I was off at his word; but had not proceeded
half way down stairs, when a hand from the rear, roughly
grasped mine, and a voice, in a wild and hurried manner,
asked pardon for “intemperance.” I should have called it
madness. We were again firm allies; but I resolved to fathom,
if possible, the mystery of the flowers. I now observed, with
surprise, that Millington never quitted his rooms without a
flower in his hand, or boutonnière; which
flower, upon his return, appeared to have been either lost,
or metamorphosed into, sometimes, one of another description;
sometimes into a nosegay. Very strange indeed, thought I; and
began to have my suspicions that in all this might be traced
“fair woman’s visitings.” Yes, Millington must decidedly have
fallen in love. He was never in chapel, never in hall, never
in college, never at lectures, and never at parties; he was
in love, that was certain; but with whom? He knew none of the
resident gentry of ——, and he was far too proud
to involve himself in “an affair” with a girl of inferior
rank. Many men did so; but Millington despised them for it.
Accidentally I discovered that he adored Julia, the young,
[pg
357] sweet daughter of an undoubted gentleman, who was
not yet “come out.” She was a lively, pretty brunette, with
brownest curling hair, only fifteen; and to this day, I
believe, knows not the name of her lover. From an attic
window of a five storied house, this fond and beautiful girl
contrived, sometimes, to shower upon the head of her devoted
admirer sweet flowers, and sometimes this paragon of pairs
meeting each other in the walks, silently effected an
interchange of the buds and blossoms, with which they always
took care to be provided. Several weeks passed thus, Henry
and Julia seeing each other every day; but long vacation
would arrive; and on the evening preceding his departure from
——, the lovelorn student, twisting round the stem
of a spicy carnation, a leaf which he had torn from his
pocket book, thus conveyed, with his farewell to Julia, an
intimation that he designed upon his return to college next
term, to effect an introduction to her family. Julia’s
delight may easily be conceived. I remained in college for
the vacation to read, and had shortly the pleasure of
informing Millington that I should be able, upon his return,
to afford him the introduction which he had so much at heart,
having made the acquaintance of Julia and her family. Two
months elapsed ere Millington deigned to notice my letter.
His answer to it was expressed in these terms:—

“Freddy—I’m married to a proper vixen, I fancy; but to
twenty thousand pounds. Ay, my boy, there it is—no
doing in this world without the needful, and I’m not the ass
to fight shy of such a windfall. As for Julia, hang her. By
Jove, what an escape—wasn’t it? Name her never again,
and should she cry for me, give her a sugar plum—a
kiss—a gingerbread husband, or yourself, as you please.
I am not so fond of milk and water, and bread and butter, I
can assure her.

“Ever truly yours,
Henry Owen Millington.

“P.S. Capital shooting hereabout—can’t you slip over for
a few days?”

Poor Julia! I certainly am not clear that I shall not marry
her myself; but as for that scoundrel Millington, he had
better take care how he comes in my way—that’s all.

M.L.B.

Manners & Customs of all Nations.

WHITSUN ALE.

(For the Mirror.)

On the Coteswold, Gloucester, is a customary meeting at
Whitsuntide, vulgarly called an Ale, or Whitsun
Ale, resorted to by numbers of young people. Two persons
are chosen previous to the meeting, to be Lord and Lady of
the Ale or Yule, who dress as suitably as they can to those
characters; a large barn, or other building is fitted up with
seats, &c. for the lord’s hall. Here they assemble to
dance and regale in the best manner their circumstances and
the place will afford; each man treats his sweetheart with a
ribbon or favour. The lord and lady attended by the steward,
sword, purse, and mace-bearer, with their several badges of
office, honour the hall with their presence; they have
likewise, in their suit, a page, or train-bearer, and a
jester, dressed in a parti-coloured jacket. The lord’s music,
consisting of a tabor and pipe, is employed to conduct the
dance. Companies of morrice-dancers, attended by the jester
and tabor and pipe, go about the country on Monday and
Tuesday in Whitsun week, and collect sums towards defraying
the expenses of the Yule. All the figures of the lord,
&c. of the Yule, handsomely represented in basso-relievo,
stand in the north wall of the nave of Cirencester Church,
which vouches for the antiquity of the custom; and, on many
of these occasions, they erect a may-pole, which denotes its
rise in Druidism. The mace is made of silk, finely plaited
with ribbons on the top, and filled with spices and perfumes
for such of the company to smell to as desire it.

Halbert H.

ANCIENT FUNERAL RITES AMONG THE GREEKS.

(For the Mirror.)

The dead were ever held sacred and inviolable even amongst
the most barbarous nations; to defraud them of any due
respect was a greater and more unpardonable sacrilege than to
spoil the temples of the gods; their memories were preserved
with a religious care and reverence, and all their remains
honoured with worship and adoration; hatred and envy
themselves were put to silence, for it was thought a sign of
a cruel and inhuman disposition to speak evil of the dead,
and prosecute revenge beyond the grave. The ancient Greeks
were strongly persuaded that their souls could not be
admitted into the Elysian fields till their bodies were
committed to the earth; therefore the honours (says Potter)
paid to the dead were the greatest and most necessary; for
these were looked upon as a debt so sacred, that such as
neglected to discharge it were thought accursed. Those who
died in foreign countries had usually their ashes
[pg
358] brought home and interred in the sepulchres of
their ancestors, or at least in some part of their native
country; it being thought that the same mother which gave
them life and birth, was only fit to receive their remains,
and afford them a peaceful habitation after death. Whence
ancient authors afford as innumerable instances of bodies
conveyed, sometimes by the command of oracles, sometimes by
the good-will of their friends, from foreign countries to the
sepulchres of their fathers, and with great solemnity
deposited there. Thus, Theseus was removed from Scyros to
Athens, Orestes from Tegea, &c. Nor was this pious care
limited to persons of free condition, but slaves also had
some share therein; for we find (says Potter) the Athenian
lawgiver commanding the magistrates, called Demarchi,
under a severe penalty, to solemnize the funerals, not so
much of citizens, whose friends seldom failed of paying the
last honours, as of slaves, who frequently were destitute of
decent burial.

Those who wasted their patrimony, forfeited their right of
being buried in the sepulchres of their fathers. As soon as
any person had expired, they closed his eyes. Augustus
Caesar, upon the approach of his death, called for a
looking-glass, and caused his hair to be combed, and his
fallen cheeks decently composed. All the offices about the
dead were performed by their nearest relations; nor could a
greater misfortune befal any person than to want these
respects. When dying, their friends and relations came close
to the bed where they lay, to bid them farewell, and catch
their dying words, which they never repeated without
reverence. The want of opportunity to pay this compliment to
Hector, furnishes Andromache with matter of lamentation,
which is related in the Iliad. They kissed and embraced the
dying person, so taking their last farewell; and endeavoured
likewise to receive in their mouth his last breath, as
fancying his soul to expire with it, and enter into their
bodies. When any person died in debt at Athens, the laws of
that city gave leave to creditors to seize the dead body, and
deprive it of burial till payment was made; whence the corpse
of Miltiades, who died in prison, being like to want the
honour of burial, his son Cimon had no other means to release
it, but by taking upon himself his father’s debts and
fetters. Sometime before interment, a piece of money was put
into the corpse’s mouth, which was thought to be Charon’s
fare for wafting the departed soul over the infernal river.

P.T.W.

SINGULAR MANORIAL CUSTOM.

(For the Mirror.)

The Manor of Broughton Lindsay, in Lincolnshire, is held
under that of Caistor, by this strange service: viz. that
annually, upon Palm Sunday, the deputy of the Lord of the
Manor of Broughton, attends the church at Caistor, with a new
cart whip in his hand, which he cracks thrice in the church
porch; and passes with it on his shoulder up the nave into
the chancel, and seats himself in the pew of the lord of the
manor, where he remains until the officiating minister is
about to read the second lesson; he then proceeds with his
whip, to the lash of which he has in the meantime affixed a
purse, which ought to contain thirty silver pennies (instead
of which a single half crown is substituted,) and kneeling
down before the reading desk, he holds the purse, suspended
over the minister’s head, all the time he is reading the
lesson. After this he returns to his seat. When divine
service is over, he leaves the whip and purse at the manor
house.

H.B.A.

The Contemporary Traveller.

MEXICO, OR NEW SPAIN.

The name of New Spain was at first given only to Yucatan by
Grijalva and his followers; but Cortez extended it to the
whole empire of Montezuma, which is described by the earliest
writers to have reached from Panama to New California. This,
however, appears, from more recent researches, on the
accuracy of which Humboldt relies with reason, to have been
larger than the reality justified; and the whole of
Tenochtitlan may be said to have been contained in the
present states of Vera Cruz, Oaxaca, Puebla, Mexico, and
Valadolid. In addition to the name given by Cortez, that of
the capital was extended to the whole kingdom of New Spain;
and since the revolution and the establishment of
independence, the several provinces form separate and
independent states, confederating together and constituting
the nineteen United States of Mexico; viz. Chiapa, Chihuahua,
Cohahuila and Texas, Durango, Guanaxuato, Mexico, Michoachan,
New Leon, Oaxaca, Puebla, Queretaro, San Luis Potosi, Sonora
and Cinaloa, Tabasco, Tamaulipas, Vera Cruz, Xalisco, Yucatan
and Zacatecas. Old and New California, Colima, New Mexico,
and Tlascala, though forming members of the federation,
declined having state governments, on account of the
[pg
359] expense, and are designated territories. The
whole republic, according to Humboldt, occupies a space of
75,830 square leagues, of twenty to an equinoxial degree; on
which there are to be found every inequality of surface, and
every variety of soil and climate, the two last of which are
dependent in most cases on the former.

The republic of Mexico, taken on the grand scale, may be
considered as a succession of small mountain-plains at
different heights, separated by mountains, and increasing in
magnitude as the coast recedes on both the eastern and
western sides, until the great centre plain be reached,
which, though much broken by mountain ridges, tends to the
north, maintaining nearly an equal elevation. The snow-capped
mountains of Orizava, and the volcanos of Puebla and Toluca,
are among the most splendid objects in the world. The
Mexicans divide the regions of their country into Tierras
calientes, Tierras templadas, and Tierras frias,
according to the climate. Throughout the whole country there
is a lamentable want of water, and of navigable rivers. The
lakes, too, appear to be yearly decreasing in extent, the
immediate consequence of which is, that the elevated portions
of the interior are nearly stripped of vegetation, and the
soil covered with an efflorescence of carbonate of soda,
there called Tequisquita, resembling very closely the
plains of the two Castiles, and recalling to the Eastern
traveller the desolate wastes of some parts of Persia.

The effect of elevation on the temperature is most marked,
and it is no uncommon thing to be shivering on one side of
the street in the city of Mexico, and to be literally
scorched by the rays of the sun on the other. Changes are
upon record of 55° of Fahrenheit within three hours, on
one of the mountain-plains at the same height with the valley
of Mexico.

Notwithstanding the volcanic character of Mexico, earthquakes
are by no means so frequent there as in some of the
neighbouring countries. One of the most memorable on record
occurred on the 14th of September, 1759, when the volcano of
Jorullo, with several smaller cones, forced the surface of
the soil, destroying all before it.

The infinite variety of climate and soil fits this country
for the production of the fruits of all regions, from those
of the hottest within the tropics to those of the severest
cold, where cultivation can be carried on. But the want of
ports, and of navigable rivers on the Atlantic, opposes the
advantages that might result from this variety of production,
though on the Pacific there are a few admirable ports, such
as Acapulco. The prevalence of the “Nortes,” or northerly
winds, at certain seasons, seriously affects the navigation
on one side, while that of the “papagallos” is as
inconvenient on the other.

The Mexican population is commonly divided into seven
classes:—1. European Spaniards, commonly called
“gachupines.” 2. White Creoles. 3. Mestizos,
descendants of Whites and Indians. 4. Mulattoes, descendants
of Whites and Blacks. 5. Zambos, from Indians and Negroes. 6.
Pure Indians. 7. African Blacks. But this classification may
be reduced to four:—1. Whites. 2. Indians. 3. Blacks.
4. Mixed Races, the various gradations of which may be
considered almost infinite.

The Indians consist of a considerable number of distinct
tribes, differing in many points of appearance, and
speaking—not dialects but—languages entirely
different. No less than twenty of these have been traced, and
of fourteen of them there are already grammars and
dictionaries. The Indian population is chiefly centered in
the great plains, and towards the south; and Humboldt thinks
that it has flowed from the north to the south. The history
of four great migrations is preserved in the annals of
Mexico, which are worthy of more detailed examination than we
can bestow upon them. The great body of these people live
apart from the other races of their countrymen, in small
villages, full of ignorance, suspicion, and bigotry, and
displaying an apparent phlegm, from which it would seem
impossible to arouse them. This phlegmatic temperament
lessens the credit of the men with the females, who uniformly
prefer the European, or the still more vivacious negro. “The
indigenous Mexican is grave, melancholic, silent, so long as
he is not under the influence of intoxicating liquors. This
gravity is peculiarly remarkable in Indian children, who at
the age of four or five years display more intelligence and
precocity than the children of whites. The Mexican loves to
attach mystery even to his most trifling actions; the
strongest passions do not display themselves in his
countenance; the transition is frightful when it passes
suddenly from a state of absolute repose to that of violent
and unrestrained agitation.” Slavery with them has engendered
guile. They are obstinate in all their habits and opinions;
their religion is one of mere ceremonial, justifying the
observation of a priest to Mr. Ward, “son mui buenos
Catolicos, pero mui malos
[pg
360] Cristianos” (very good Catholics, but very bad
Christians.) Deception in this, as well as in every thing
else, is the order of the day; and the Indian Alcalde now
oppresses the villagers as much as he himself has ever been.

Humboldt considers the Mexican Indian as destitute of all
imagination, though when to a certain degree educated, he
attributes to him facility in learning, a clearness of
understanding, a natural turn for reasoning, and a particular
aptitude to subtilize and seize trifling distinctions.

The music and dancing are as dull as might be expected among
beings so full of phlegm. The Mexican has a turn for painting
and sculpture; and retains the same fondness for flowers that
struck Cortez so forcibly upwards of three centuries ago. The
“Indios Bravos,” or Wild Indians, are said to display more
energy; but our information respecting them is remarkably
scanty.

Among the active vices of the Mexican Indian, that of
drunkenness prevails to a most lamentable extent. In the
upper districts, pulque, or the fermented juice of the
aloe, is the principal tempter; sometimes a spirit, distilled
from the same plant, called Vino de Mescal; while, in
the hotter districts, the same effects are ensured by the
chinguirito, a very coarse kind of rum. Combined with
this disposition to intoxication, the Indian is
constitutionally indolent; and, now that he is a free man, he
will rarely work, except to obtain just as much as will
afford him the means of enjoying his greatest
luxury—that of steeping his senses in oblivion. This
last tendency is much to be deplored, as, in the larger
towns, we know that every Sunday (which is the day of
greatest indulgence) assassinations, to the extent of six or
eight each day, are the melancholy consequence of its
indulgence. Humboldt states that the police were in the
practice of sending tumbrels round, to collect the unhappy
victims of intoxication. The punishment was, and we believe
still is, three days’ labour in the streets; but it does not
seem to be very efficacious, for generally within the week
the delinquents are again in custody.

There is something characteristic in the indolence of these
sombre beings. They will travel immense distances; but to
steady labour they are, generally speaking, not prone. It is
told of them, that in one of the most fertile districts (the
Baxio) it is not unusual for an Indian, on receiving
his wages, to get thoroughly drunk, go to sleep, and on
awakening renew his potations and repose, until the
exhaustion of his finances compels him to return to labour.
In some parts, however, there are exceptions to this
observation.

Education has been more attended to, by some of the leading
personages, than could have been expected in a society that
had been so much kept in the shade. We apprehend the
advantages are chiefly prospective, and may be well defined
in another generation; at present they are but small. The
whites have been, and still are, the most educated portion of
the Mexicans, owing, no doubt, to their greater opulence, and
having access to official rank. The mass of ignorance,
however, among all classes, is inconceivable to any one who
has only moved in the principal countries of Europe. Nor is
it confined to the lower classes, but finds protection among
the highest in the community. We heard a reverend canon of
the metropolitan church gravely inquire, whether it was
possible to reach London except by sailing up the Thames. And
we knew a very pretty, agreeable young lady, moving in the
first circles, who could not write a single letter at the age
of seventeen. She has been since married, and has, we are
informed, been taught to write by her husband, who is not a
Mexican. The religion of all classes resembles too much that
of the Indians; and the practical morality and general tone
of society are by no means refined. If one half of the
scandalous tales in circulation be true, the former ranks
with that of Paris in its worst periods, and the latter is
assuredly gross to a degree that would surprise even an
inhabitant of Madrid. The familiarity with which every
subject is treated at first excites emotions in an
Englishman of the most unpleasant kind, which gradually
subside, from the frequency with which they are discussed by
young and old; by high and low, of both
sexes.—Foreign Quarterly Review.

Notes of a Reader.

SIR WALTER SCOTT’S NEW WORK.

We detach this little descriptive gem from Sir Walter Scott’s
“Anne of Geierstein,” just published. An outline of this very
delightful novel will be found in a SUPPLEMENT with the
present number of the MIRROR.

“The ancient tower of Geierstein, though neither extensive,
nor distinguished by architectural ornament, possessed an air
of terrible dignity by its position on the very verge of the
opposite bank of the torrent, which, just at the angle of the
[pg
361] rock on which the ruins are situated, falls sheer
over a cascade of nearly a hundred feet in height, and then
rushes down the defile, through a trough of living rock,
which perhaps its waves have been deepening since time itself
had a commencement. Facing, and at the same time looking down
upon this eternal roar of waters, stood the old tower, built
so close to the verge of the precipice, that the buttresses
with which the architect had strengthened the foundation,
seemed a part of the solid rock itself, and a continuation of
its perpendicular ascent. As usual, throughout Europe in the
feudal times, the principal part of the building was a
massive square pile, the decayed summit of which was rendered
picturesque, by flanking turrets of different sizes and
heights, some round, some angular, some ruinous, some
tolerably entire, varying the outline of the building as seen
against the stormy sky.”

THORWALDSEN.

Since the death of his illustrious contemporary, Canova,
Thorwaldsen, born at Copenhagen in 1771-2, has occupied the
public eye as head of the modern school. The character and
powers of this master are doubtless of a very elevated rank:
but neither in the extent nor excellence of his works, do we
apprehend his station to be so high as sometimes placed. The
genius of the Danish sculptor is forcible, yet is its energy
derived more from peculiarity than from real excellence. His
ideal springs less from imitation of the antique, or of
nature, than from the workings of his own individual
mind—it is the creation of a fancy seeking forcible
effect in singular combinations, rather than in general
principles; therefore hardly fitted to excite lasting or
beneficial influence upon the age. Simplicity and imposing
expression seem to have hitherto formed the principal objects
of his pursuit; but the distinction between the simple and
rude, the powerful and the exaggerated, is not always
observed in the labours of the Dane. His simplicity is
sometimes without grace; the impressive—austere, and
without due refinement. The air and contours of his heads,
except, as in the Mercury—an excellent example both of
the beauties and defects of the artist’s style—when
immediately derived from antiquity, though grand and
vigorous, seldom harmonize in the principles of these efforts
with the majestic regularity of general nature. The forms,
again, are not unfrequently poor, without a vigorous
rendering of the parts, and destitute at times of their just
roundness. These defects may in some measure have arisen from
the early and more frequent practice of the artist in
relievos. In this department, Thorwaldsen is unexceptionably
to be admired. The Triumph of Alexander, originally intended
for the frieze of the government palace at Milan,
notwithstanding an occasional poverty, in the materials of
thought, is, as a whole, one of the grandest compositions in
the world; while the delicacy of execution, and poetic
feeling, in the two exquisite pieces of Night and Aurora,
leave scarcely a wish here ungratified. But in statues,
Thorwaldsen excels only where the forms and sentiment admit
of uncontrolled imagination, or in which no immediate
recourse can be had to fixed standards of taste, and to the
simple effects of nature. Hence, of all his works, as
admitting of unconfined expression, and grand peculiarity of
composition, the statues of the Apostles, considered in
themselves, are the most excellent. Thorwaldsen, in fine,
possesses singular, but in some respects erratic genius. His
ideas of composition are irregular; his powers of fancy
surpass those of execution; his conceptions seem to lose a
portion of their value and freshness in the act of
realizement. As an individual artist, he will command
deservedly a high rank among the names that shall go down to
posterity. As a sculptor, who will influence, or has extended
the principles of the art, his pretensions are not great; or,
should this influence and these claims not be thus limited,
the standard of genuine and universal excellence must be
depreciated in a like degree.—Meme’s History of
Sculpture, &c.

SIGN OF THE TIMES.

One of the singularities of the time is an unwillingness to
tell the truth, even when there is no ground for suppressing
or perverting it. It is so frequently under or overstated by
most persons in this country who speak and write, according
to the side they have espoused, or the inclinations and
political principles of those by whom they are likely to be
read or heard, that they at last persuade themselves there is
a sort of impropriety in presenting facts in their proper
colours.—Quarterly Review.

A DUTCH TALE.

A ballad of Roosje is perhaps the most touchingly told
story which the Dutch possess. It is of a maid—a
beloved maid—born at her mother’s death—bred
[pg
362] up ‘midst the tears and kisses of her
father—prattling thoughtlessly about her
mother—every one’s admiration for beauty, cleverness,
and virtue—gentle as the moon shining on the downs. Her
name was to be seen written again and again on the sands by
the Zeeland youths—and scarcely a beautiful flower
bloomed but was gathered for her. Now in Zeeland, when the
south-winds of summer come, there comes too a delicate fish,
which hides itself in the sand, and which is dug out as a
luxury by the young people. It is the time of sport and
gaiety—and they venture far—far over the flat
coast into the sea. The boys drag the girls among the
waves—and Roosje was so dragged, notwithstanding many
appeals. “A kiss, a kiss, or you go further,” cried her
conductor—she fled—he followed, both
laughing:—”Into the sea—into the sea,” said all
her companions—he pushes her on—it is deeper, and
deeper—she shrieks—she sinks—they sink
together—the sands were faithless—there was no
succour—the waves rolled over them—there was
stillness and death:—The terrified playmates
looked—

Foreign Quarterly Review.

ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES.

The discouragement of colonization is certainly not the
feeling of the great majority of the people of England, and
it is equally certain that it is not the policy of this
empire. Whatever may be the fate of the several British
colonies at some future and distant period, it is something
at least to have spread our laws and language, and moral
character, over the most distant parts of the globe. The
colonies that speak the language of Old England—that
preserve her manners and her habits—will always be her
best customers; and their surplus capital will always centre
in the mother country. It was not the opinion of our
ancestors, that colonies were an incumbrance;
they—good, stupid souls—imagined that colonies
enlarged the sphere of commerce—-that commerce required
ships—that ships created seamen for manning the royal
navy, and that the whole contributed to individual wealth, to
the national revenue, and the national strength; and such we
believe still to be the opinion of men of sound practical
knowledge, whose minds are unwarped by abstract systems and
preconceived theories, to which every thing must be made to
bend. Such, too, was the feeling of that extraordinary man,
who, with the solitary exception of England, exacted homage
from every crowned head of Europe. This man, in the plenitude
of his power, felt that something was still wanting to enable
him to grapple with one little island, invulnerable by its
maritime strength, the sinews of which he knew to be derived
from its colonies: he felt that, deprived as he was of
“ships, colonies, and commerce,” England was able to stand
alone among nations, and to bid defiance to his overwhelming
power. That cunning fox, too, by whose councils he was
occasionally guided, knew too well the degree of strength
that England derived from her colonies, which he described to
be her very vitals, and which could only be reached by a
powerful navy. He designated them as the sheet anchor of
Great Britain—the prop that supported her maritime
superiority—the strongholds of her power. “Deprive her
of her colonies,” said Talleyrand. “and you break down her
last wall; you fill up her last ditch.”—Fas est et
ab hoste doceri.—Quarterly Review.

INVITATIONS.

As a certificate of your intention to be punctual, you may
send your friends, a similar billet to the following:—

My dear Sir,

The honour of your company is requested to dine with
—— on Fryday, 1828.

The favour of a positive answer is requested, or the
proffered plate will be appropriated as it was when—

Sir Ill-bred Ignorance returned the following
answer:—”I shall be quite happy to come if I possibly
can.” Such words the committee voted were equivalent to
these—I’ll come, if in the mean time I am not invited
to a party that I like better.—Dr. Kitchiner.

GENEVA

Has very little, as a city, to recommend it. It is
characterized by much active industry within doors, the
savans and mechaniciens being pent up in their
closets and ateliers, and very little gaiety pervades the
promenades. Some parts of the town are sufficiently
picturesque; the overhanging roofs, for which it is
remarkable, are, however, too lofty to screen the pedestrian
from the rain, especially
[pg
363] if accompanied by a high wind, and form no shade
from the sun. The pavement of the streets is bad, and their
irregularity is a considerable drawback from the internal
appearance. The pavement of the inclined plane in the Hotel
de Ville, by which we gain the arduous ascent that conducts
to the Passport office, is a curiosity of its kind, and
perhaps unique. The city is tolerably well fenced in with
walls within walls, draw and suspension bridges, and gates;
while stakes and chains secure from surprise on the part of
the lake. The small canton of Geneva, though in the vicinity
of the Great Alpine chain and the mountains of the Jura,
includes no mountains. The name of the city and canton has
been traced by the etymologists to a Celtic origin;
Gen, a sally-port or exit, and av, a river,
probably because the Rhone here leaves the Leman lake. The
eagle on the escutcheon of the city arms indicates its having
been an imperial city; and it is believed the key was
an adjunct of Pope Martin V., in the year 1418. The motto on
the scroll, “Ex tenebris lux,” appears to have existed
anterior to the light of the Reformation. The number
of inhabitants may now be estimated at about 22,000; but it
appears, by a census in 1789, to have been 26,148. In this
moral city, it is computed that every twelfth birth is
illegitimate. The number of people engaged in clock and
watch-making and jewellery, may be safely rated at 3,000. In
years favourable to these staple manufactures 75,000 ounces
of gold are employed, which is almost equally divided between
watches and jewellery. The daily supply of silver is about
134 ounces. Pearls form an article of considerable value in
the jewellery, and have been rated at no less a sum that
1,200 francs daily. 70,000 watches are annually made, only
one-twelfth of which are in silver. More than fifty distinct
branches are comprised in the various departments, and each
workman, on the average, earns about three shillings
a-day.—Mr. John Murray’s Tour.

HANDEL.

Some folks eat two or three times as much as others—for
instance, our incomparable and inspired composer, Handel,
required uncommonly large and frequent supplies of food.
Among other stories told of this great musician, it is said
that whenever he dined alone at a tavern, he always
ordered “dinner for three;” and on receiving an answer
to his question—”Is de tinner retty?”—”As soon as
the company come.”—He said, con strepito, “Den
pring up te Tinner prestissimo, I am de gombany.”

BAD WRITING.

From one of Dr. Parr’s Letters.

His letters put me in mind of tumult and anarchy; there is
sedition in every sentence; syllable has no longer any
confidence in syllable, but dissolves its connexion as
preferring an alliance with the succeeding word. A page of
his epistle looks like the floor of a garden-house, covered
with old, crooked nails, which have just been released from a
century’s durance in a brick wall. I cannot cast my eyes on
his character without being religious. This is the only good
effect I have derived from his writings; he brings into my
mind the resurrection, and paints the tumultuous
resuscitation of awakened men with a pencil of masterly
confusion. I am fully convinced of one thing, either that he
or his pen is intoxicated when he writes to me, for his
letters seem to have borrowed the reel of wine, and stagger
from one corner of the sheet to the other. They remind me of
Lord Chatham’s administration, lying together heads and
points in one truckle-bed.

WINE AND WATER.

The same quantity of wine diluted intoxicates sooner than the
same quantity drank in the same time without dilution;
the wine being applied to a larger surface of the stomach,
acts with proportionably greater quickness—though wine
diluted sooner intoxicates, its effects are
sooner over.—Dr. Kitchiner.

NEW SOUTH WALES.

Of the total population of New South Wales, which, in round
numbers, may be taken at 40,000, the Free Emigrants

OMEN.

As Cooke, the solicitor-general, was beginning to open the
pleadings at the trial of Charles I, the king gently tapped
him on the shoulder with his cane, crying “Hold, hold!” At
the same moment the silver head of the cane fell off, and
rolled on the floor.

[pg
364]

COTTAGE GARDENS.

The comforts and benefits to be derived from a well
cultivated garden, by a poor man’s family, are almost beyond
calculation. What a resource for hours after work, or when
trade is dull, and regular work scarce! What a contrast and
counteraction is the healthy, manly, employment which a
cottage garden affords, to the close, impure, unwholesome
air, the beastliness and obscenity, the waste of time, the
destruction of morals, the loss of character, money, and
health, which are the inmates of too many common
ale-houses!—Gardener’s Mag.

PAINTING.

Painting, were the use of it universal, would be a powerful
means of instruction to children and the lower orders; and
were all the fine surfaces, which are now plain, and
absolutely wasted, enriched with the labours of the art, if
they once began to appear, they would accumulate rapidly; and
were the ornamented edifices open to all, as freely as they
ought to be, a wide field of new and agreeable study would
offer itself. A person, who thoroughly understood the
well-chosen subjects, and was qualified to explain them to a
stranger, could not be devoid of knowledge, nor could his
mind want food for constant contemplation. The sense of
beauty has hitherto been little cultivated in Great Britain;
but it certainly exists, and shows itself principally in
laying out gardens and pleasure-grounds with unrivalled
skill.—Edin. Review.

Spirit of Discovery.

In the New Monthly Magazine for October, 1826, is the
following statement of the efficacy of the guaco for the cure
of the bite of a mad dog, published by the gentleman who
first made use of the plant in South America, as an antidote
to that scourge of human nature, hydrophobia; his words are,
“I shall simply state, that during my residence in South
America, I had frequent opportunities of witnessing the
direful effects of hydrophobia, without having in any one
case that came under my care been successful in its cure by
the usual modes prescribed in Europe. It fortunately occurred
to me, that the guaco, so celebrated for curing the bite or
sting of all venomous snakes, might prove equally efficacious
in hydrophobic cases. How far my idea was correct that an
analogy existed between the virus of a serpent and that of a
rabid dog, I leave to others to determine; but such was my
opinion, and I acted upon it in all subsequent cases with
complete success.”

We understand the same gentleman has received from South
America two plants which he was in the habit of prescribing
for insanity and pulmonary consumption, with the happiest
effects; and as it is his intention to give them an immediate
trial, should they be found to answer in Europe, as in South
America, of which he has not the least doubt, the discovery
may be considered as of the first consequence in medicine.

The Journal Des Reconnaissances Useless gives the
following method of curing legs of mutton like ham:—It
is necessary that the mutton should be very fat. Two ounces
of raw sugar must be mixed with an ounce of common salt and
half a spoonful of saltpetre. The meat is to be rubbed well
with this, and then placed in a tureen. It must be beaten and
turned twice a day during three consecutive days; and the
scum which comes from the meat having been taken off, it is
to be wiped, and again rubbed with the mixture. The next day
it should be again beaten, and the two operations ought to be
repeated alternately during ten days, care being taken to
turn the meat each time. It must be then exposed to the smoke
for ten days. These hams are generally eaten cold.

A mode has been adopted to prepare potatoes as food, which
has at least one advantage—that of economy. The
potatoes are roasted in a kiln or oven, and are thus
prevented from sprouting, (which injures their quality so
much at this season of the year,) and are thus preserved for
some time in a fit state for consumption. They are better for
being again heated before they are used, and though it is to
be regretted that persons should be reduced to such food, yet
they are cheaper and more wholesome than the bread usually
given in times of scarcity to the poorer classes.

A new air-thermometer has been invented by M. Pouillet, for
the purpose of measuring degrees of heat in very high
temperatures; an object hitherto of very difficult
attainment. By means of this instrument it has been
ascertained, that the heat of melted silver is 1677°; of
a melted mixture of one part gold and three parts silver,
1803°; and of melted pure gold 2096°.

[pg
365]

A correspondent of the Gardener’s Magazine states,
that after in vain trying salt, lime, and dibbling holes for
preserving young cauliflowers and cabbages from slugs, he
succeeded by spreading some well cut chaff round the plants
under hand glasses, and some round the outsides of the
glasses. The slugs in their attempt to reach the plant, find
themselves immediately enveloped in the chaff, which prevents
their moving, so that when he raised the glasses to give the
plants air, he found hundreds of disabled slugs round the
outside of the glasses, which he took away and destroyed.

When peas, French beans, &c. do not boil easily, it has
usually been imputed to the coolness of the season, or to the
rains. This popular notion is erroneous. The difficulty of
boiling them soft arises from an excess of gypsum imbibed
during their growth. To correct this, throw a small quantity
of subcarbonate of soda into the pot along with the
vegetables.—From the French.

Has now become an article of some practical magnitude in
French commerce; since the annual consumption is between
seven and eight million pounds.

It was lately mentioned by Mr. Huskisson, in the House of
Commons, as a proof of the flourishing state of our trade,
that British Bandanna handkerchiefs were in the course of
shipment to India. In addition to this fact, we can state of
our own knowledge that they are now exporting to France, in
no inconsiderable quantities, not merely as samples, but in
the regular course of trade.—For. Quart. Rev.

It is curious to take a retrospective view of the mode in
which the effects of the Leyden phial were announced to the
world, on their first discovery. The philosophers who first
experienced, in their own person, the shock attendant on the
transmission of an electric discharge, were so impressed with
wonder and with terror by this novel sensation, that they
wrote the most ridiculous and exaggerated account of their
feelings on the occasion. Muschenbrok states, that he
received so dreadful a concussion in his arms, shoulder, and
heart, that he lost his breath, and it was two days before he
could recover from its effects; he declared also, that he
should not be induced to take another shock for the whole
kingdom of France. Mr. Allemand reports, that the shock
deprived him of breath for some minutes, and afterwards
produced so acute a pain along his right arm, that he was
apprehensive it might be attended with serious consequences.
Mr. Winkler informs us, that it threw his whole body into
convulsions, and excited such a ferment in his blood, as
would have thrown him into a fever, but for the timely
employment of febrifuge remedies. He states, that at another
time it produced copious bleeding at the nose; the same
effect was produced also upon his lady, who was almost
rendered incapable of walking. The strange accounts naturally
excite the attention and wonder of all classes of people; the
learned and the vulgar were equally desirous of experiencing
so singular a sensation, and great numbers of half-taught
electricians wandered through every part of Europe to gratify
this universal curiosity.

It is on the nervous system that the most considerable action
of electricity is exerted. A strong charge passed through the
head, gave to Mr. Singer the sensation of a violent but
universal blow, and was followed by a transient loss of
memory and indistinctness of vision. If a charge be sent
through the head of a bird, its optic nerve is usually
injured or destroyed, and permanent blindness induced; and a
similar shock given to larger animals, produces a tremulous
state of the muscles, with general prostration of strength.
If a person who is standing receive a charge through the
spine, he loses his power over the muscles to such a degree,
that he either drops on his knees, or falls prostrate on the
ground; if the charge be sufficiently powerful, it will
produce immediate death, in consequence, probably, of the
sudden exhaustion of the whole energy of the nervous system.
Small animals, such as mice and sparrows, are instantly
killed by a shock from thirty square inches of glass. Van
Marum found that eels are irrecoverably deprived of life when
a shock is sent through their whole body; but when only a
part of the body is included in the circuit, the destruction
of irritability is confined to that individual part, while
the rest retains the power of motion. Different persons are
affected in very different degrees by electricity, according
to their peculiar constitutional susceptibility. Dr. Young
remarks, that a very minute tremor, communicated to the most
elastic parts of the body, in particular the chest, produces
an agitation of the nerves, which is not wholly unlike the
effect of a weak electricity.

[pg
366] The bodies of animals killed by electricity,
rapidly undergo putrefaction, and the action of electricity
upon the flesh of animals is also found to accelerate this
process in a remarkable degree. The same effect has been
observed in the bodies of persons destroyed by lightning. It
is also a well-established fact, that the blood does not
coagulate after death from this cause.

Dig a narrow trench round the plant, leaving its roots in the
middle in an isolated ball of earth; fill the trench with
plaster of Paris, which will become hard in a few minutes,
and form a case to the ball and plant, which may be lifted
and removed any where at pleasure.—French Paper.

A cheap and powerful freezing mixture may be made by
pulverizing Glauber’s salts finely, and placing it level at
the bottom of a glass vessel. Equal parts of sal ammoniac and
nitre are then to be finely powdered, and mixed together, and
subsequently added to the Glauber’s salts, stirring the
powders well together; after which adding water sufficient to
dissolve the salts, a degree of cold will be produced,
frequently below Zero of Fahrenheit. But Mr. Walker states,
that nitrate of ammonia, phosphate of soda, and diluted
nitric acid, will on the instant produce a reduction of
temperature amounting to 80 degrees. It is desirable to
reduce the temperature of the substances previously, if
convenient, by placing the vessels in water, with nitre
powder thrown in occasionally.

By the aid of Tulley’s achromatic microscope, and under
highly magnifying powers, it has recently been discovered
that the globules of the blood congeal into flat circular
bodies, and arrange themselves in rows, one body being placed
partly underneath another, and in like manner as a pile of
similar coins, when thrown gently down, would be found to
arrange themselves. This curious effect has been attributed
to the vitality yet remaining in the blood, during the act of
congealing. At any rate it is a most singular fact, for
although we might naturally conceive that the flattened
circular plates would place themselves in juxtaposition, yet
we never could have supposed that they would have partly
slipped underneath each other. In order to make this very
curious experiment, it is necessary that the blood, as
freshly drawn, be slightly and thinly smeared over the
surface of a slip of crown, or window glass, and be covered
with a very thin slip of Bohemian plate glass; and thus some
slight inequalities in the thickness of the layer of blood
between them will be produced, and which are necessary to
succeed in producing the very curious appearances
abovementioned.—Gilt’s Repository.

Put into a large bottle, nearly filled with alcohol, at
thirty-four degrees of Baumé (or thirty-six) the peels
of six fine Portugal oranges, which are smooth skinned, and
let them infuse for fifteen days. At the end of this time,
put into a large stone or glass vessel, 11 ounces of brandy
at eighteen degrees, 4-1/2 ounces of white sugar, and 4-1/2
ounces of river water. When the sugar is dissolved, add a
sufficient quantity of the above infusion of orange peels, to
give it a predominant flavour; and aromatise with 3 grammes
of fine cinnamon, and as much mace, both well bruised.
Lastly, throw into the liqueur 31 grammes (1 ounce) of Brazil
wood, in powder. Leave the whole in infusion ten days, being
stirred three or four times a day. At the end of this time
taste the liqueur; and if it be too strong and sweet, add
more water to it; if too weak, add alcohol, at 30 degrees;
and if it be not sweet enough, put syrup to it. Give it
colour with caramel when you would tinge it.—From
the French.

A mixture of two parts Danube sand, and one part common
earth, was laid in a layer an inch thick, in one corner of my
cellar; and, in April, thirty-two yellow potatoes with their
skins placed upon its surface. They threw out stalks on all
sides; and, at the end of the following November, more than a
quarter of a bushel of the best potatoes were gathered, about
a tenth part of which were about the size of apples—the
rest as large as nuts. The skin was very thin; the pulp
farinaceous, white, and of a good taste. No attention was
given to the potatoes during the time they remained on the
sand, and they grew without the influence of the sun or
light. This trial may be advantageously applied in fortified
places, hospitals, houses of correction, and, in general, in
all places where cellars or subterraneous places occur, being
neither too cold nor too moist; and where it is important to
procure a cheap, but abundant nourishment for many
individuals.—From the French.

[pg
367]

Retrospective Gleanings.

CHILTERN HUNDREDS.

The three Hundreds of Desborough, Stoke, and Burnham, in
Bucks, are called the “Chiltern Hundreds,” and take their
name from the Chalk Hills which run through Bucks and the
neighbouring counties. The property of these Hundreds
remaining in the Crown, a Steward is appointed at a salary of
20s. and all fees, which nominal office is accepted by
any Member of Parliament who wishes to vacate his seat.

PEG TANKARDS.

At Braintree and Booking, in Essex, when topers partake of a
pot of ale, it is divided into three parts or draughts, the
first of which is called neckum, the second
sinkum, and the third swankum. In Bailey’s
Dictionary, swank is said to be “that remainder of
liquor at the bottom of a tankard, pot, or cup, which is just
sufficient for one draught, which it is not accounted good
manners to divide with the left-hand man, and according to
the quantity is called either a large or little swank.”

CHIMNEYS.

Has the precise period been ascertained when chimneys upon
the present mode were first constructed in England? It was
apparently not sooner than Henry the Eighth’s time; for
Leland, when he visited Bolton Castle, in Yorkshire, seems to
have been greatly surprised by the novelty and ingenuity of
the contrivance. “One thing (says he) I much notyd in the
haull of Bolton, how chimneys was conveyed by tunnills made
in the sydds of the waulls, betwixt the lights; and by this
meanes is the smoke of the harthe wonder strangely convayed.”

The front of St. John’s Hospital at Lichfield, presents one
of the most curious ancient specimens extant of this part of
our early domestic architecture. This building was erected
1495, but it is possible that the remarkable chimneys may
have been subsequently added.

OLD LONDON.

(For the Mirror.)

In a collection of Epigrams written by Thomas Freeman, of
Gloucestershire, and published in 1014, is the following,
entitled “London’s Progresse:”—

W.C.R.R.

AVVER.

(For the Mirror.)

The word “Avver” has doubtless the same origin as the German
word “Hafer” “Haber” which signifies in English,
oat.

In some parts of Germany a pap of oatmeal “Haferbrei” is very
common as breakfast of the lower classes. Of “Haferbrod”
oatbread, I only heard in 1816, when the other sorts of grain
were so very scarce in Germany.

A German and Constant Reader of the Mirror.

THE HALCYON

(For the Mirror.)

So often alluded to by the poets, is the bird called the King
Fisher. It was believed by the ancients that while the female
brooded over the eggs, the sea and weather remained calm and
unruffled; hence arose the expression of Halcyon days.

R.N.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

(For the Mirror.)

Woolsthorp, Lincolnshire, a little village on the great north
road between Stamford and Grantham, is memorable as the
birthplace of that illustrious philosopher, Sir Isaac Newton.
The house in which he was born, is a kind of farmhouse, built
of stone, and is, or was lately standing. The learned Dr.
Stukely visited it in 1721, and was showed the inside of it
by the country people; in a letter to Dr. Mead on this
occasion, he says, “They led me up stairs, and showed me Sir
Isaac’s study, where I suppose he studied when in the
country, in his younger days, as perhaps, when he visited his
mother from the university. I observed the shelves were of
his own making, being pieces of deal boxes, which probably he
sent his books and clothes down in upon these occasions.”

Halbert H.

[pg
368]

The Gatherer.

SHAKSPEARE.

When Dr. Johnson courted Mrs. Porter, whom he afterwards
married, he told her “that he was of mean extraction, that he
had no money; and that he had an uncle hanged!” The lady by
way of reducing herself, to an equality with the doctor,
replied, “that she had no more money than himself; and that,
though she had not a relation hanged, she had fifty who
deserved hanging.” And thus was accomplished this very
curious amour.

W.G.C.

On the Dorchester road from Sturminster, is a public-house
called the “King’s Stag,” its sign displays a stag with a
gold collar around its neck, and underneath are the following
lines:—

Ruris.

When Lord Norbury was applied to by a collector of one of the
local taxes for the amount of tax, his lordship said, he had
already paid it, and on looking to his file, discovered a
receipt, signed by the same collector who then applied for
it. The tax-man, confounded, apologized in the best manner he
could, stating his regret that he did not recollect it. “I
dare say,” said my lord, “you are very sorry you did not
re-collect it.”

IN KENSINGTON CHURCHYARD.

“Here are deposited the remains of Mrs. Ann Floyer, the
beloved wife of Mr. Richard Floyer, of Thistle Grove, in this
parish, died on Thursday the 8th of May, 1823.

“God hath chosen her as a pattern for the other
Angels.”

IN DUNDEE CHURCHYARD.

NEW MEASURE.

Shortly after the introduction of the New Weights and
Measures, an innkeeper in a market-town, not far from
Sudbury, in Suffolk, sent his ostler to a customer with a
quantity of liquor, which he delivered with the following
words:—”Marstur bid me tell ye Sar, as how ’tis
the New Infarnal Measure.”

A farmer calling upon his landlord to pay his rent,
apologized for being late, by saying that his illness
prevented his attending earlier, and he did not know what his
disorder was. The gentleman told him it was “Influenza.”
Returning home he was met by the schoolmaster of the village,
who inquired after his health, “I am very poorly,” replied
the farmer, “my landlord tells me my complaint is Humphry
Windsor.”

A witness on a trial being interrogated by Judge Willis, in a
manner not pleasing to him, turned to an acquaintance, and
told him in a half whisper, “he did not come there to be
queered by the old one.” Willis heard him, and instantly
replied, in his own cant, “I am old ’tis true—and I’m
rum sometimes—and for once I’ll be queer—and I
send you to quod.”

H.B.A.

An exciseman whose remarks and answers were frequently rather
odd, riding at a quick pace upon a blind pony, was met
by a person who praised the animal much, “Yes,” replied the
officer, “he is a very good one, only he shies at
every thing he sees.”

SIR WALTER SCOTT’S NEW NOVEL

A supplement published with the present Number, contains an
outline of of the Novel of Anne of Geierstein, OR THE MAID OF
THE MIST; With Unique Extracts, &c.

LIMBIRD’S EDITION OF THE
Following Novels is already Published:

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.