THE MIRROR
OF
LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

CHICHESTER CROSS.

Few places in Britain can boast of
higher antiquity than the city of Chichester.
Its origin is supposed to date
back beyond the invasion of Britain by
the Romans. It was destroyed towards the
close of the fifth century, by Ella, but
rebuilt by his son, Cissa, the second
king of the South Saxons, who named
it after himself, and made it the royal
residence and capital of his dominions.

Chichester, as may be expected, is a
fertile field for antiquarian research. Its
cathedral, churches, and ecclesiastical
buildings abound with fine architecture;
and its Cross is entitled to special
mention. It is thus minutely described
in the Beauties of England and Wales:

The Cross stands in the centre of the
city, at the intersection of the four
principal streets. According to the inscription
upon it, this Cross was built by
Edward Story, who was translated to
this see from that of Carlisle, in 1475.
It was repaired during the reign of
Charles II., and at the expense of the
Duke of Richmond, in 1746; though
we are told that Bishop Story left an
estate at Amberley, worth full 25l. per
annum, to keep it in constant repair;
but a few years afterwards the mayor
and corporation sold it, in order to purchase
another nearer home. The date
of the erection of this structure is not
mentioned in the inscription; but, from
the style and ornaments, it must be referred
to the time of Edward IV. This
Cross is universally acknowledged to be
one of the most elegant buildings of the
kind existing in England. Its form is
octangular, having a strong butment at
each angle, surmounted with pinnacles.
On each of its faces is an entrance
through a pointed arch, ornamented
with crockets and a finial. Above this,
[pg 18]
on four of its sides, is a tablet, to commemorate
its reparation in the reign of
Charles II. Above each tablet is a dial,
exhibiting the hour to each of the three
principal streets; the fourth being excluded
from this advantage by standing
at an angle. In the centre is a large
circular column, the basement of which
forms a seat: into this column is inserted
a number of groinings, which,
spreading from the centre, form the
roof beautifully moulded. The central
column appears to continue through the
roof, and is supported without by eight
flying buttresses, which rest on the several
corners of the building. Till a few
years since this Cross was used as a
market-place; but the increased population
of the city requiring a more extensive
area for that purpose, a large
and convenient market-house was, about
the year 1807, erected in the North-street;
on the completion of which, it
was proposed to take down this Cross,
then considered as a nuisance. Fortunately,
however, the city was exempted
from the reproach of such a proceeding
by the public spirit of some of the
members of the corporation, who purchased
several houses on the north side
of the Cross, in order to widen that part
of the street, by their demolition.

The Topographer

COUNTY COLLECTIONS.

Kent.

Queen Elizabeth’s Gun at Dover.

Hampshire—Sir Bevis of Southampton.

Westmoreland.

Drunken Barnaby’s Journal.

Cheshire.

SHROPSHIRE.

LINCOLNSHIRE.—STAMFORD.

Merlin.

STAFFORDSHIRE.

Milton.

Spenser.

BERKSHIRE.—ABINGDON.

(From Piers Plowman’s MSS. 1400.)

WILTSHIRE.—SALISBURY CATHEDRAL,

Chippenham.—On a Stone.

GLOUCESTERSHIRE.

Merlin.

YORKSHIRE.

SURREY.—ON THE MARKET HOUSE, FARNHAM.

Spenser.

SOMERSETSHIRE.

Drayton.

Bristol Castle.

Redcliffe Church.

Chatterton.

WALES.—GLAMORGANSHIRE.

PEMBROKESHIRE.

SCOTLAND.—STIRLINGSHIRE—BANNOCKBURN, 1314.

ROXBURGH.

WESTERN ISLES.

This prophecy is said to be the reason why so
many kings of Scotland, Norway, and Ireland
have selected Icombkill for the place of their
interment.

DUMBARTON.

PERTH.

Retrospective Gleanings

GREEK BALLOT.—VOTING AMONG THE
ANCIENT GREEKS.

The manner of giving their suffrages
(says Potter) was by holding up their
hands. This was the common method
of voting among the citizens in the civil
government; but in some cases, particularly
when they deprived magistrates
of their offices for mal-administration,
they gave their votes in private, lest the
power and greatness of the persons accused
should lay a restraint upon them,
and cause them to act contrary to their
judgments and inclinations.

The manner of voting privately was
by casting pebbles into vessels or urns.
Before the use of pebbles, they voted
with beans: the beans were of two
sorts, black and white. In the Senate
of Five Hundred, when all had done
speaking, the business designed to be
passed into a decree was drawn up in
writing by any of the prytanes, or other
senators, and repeated openly in the
house; after which, leave being given
by the epistata, or prytanes, the senators
proceeded to vote, which they did
privately, by casting beans in a vessel
placed there for that purpose. If the
number of black beans was found to be
the greatest, the proposal was rejected;
if white, it was enacted into a decree,
then agreed upon in the senate, and
afterwards propounded to an assembly
of the people, that it might receive
from them a farther ratification, without
which it could not be passed into a law,
nor have any force or obligatory power,
after the end of that year, which was
the time that the senators, and almost
all the other magistrates, laid down
their commissions.

In the reign of Cecrops, women were
said to have been allowed voices in the
popular assembly; where Minerva contending
with Neptune which of the two
should be declared Protector of Athens,
and gaining the women to her party, was
reported by their voices, which were
more numerous than those of the men,
to have obtained the victory.

P.T.W.

CLARENCE AND ITS ROYAL DUKES.

Clarentia, or Clarence, now Clare, a
town in Suffolk, seated on a creek of
the river Stour, is of more antiquity than
beauty; but has long been celebrated for
men of great fame, who have borne the
titles of earls and dukes. It has the remains
of a noble castle, of great strength
and considerable extent and fortification
(perhaps some of your readers could
favour you with a drawing and history
of it); and ruins of a collegiate church.
It had once a monastery of canons, of
the order of St. Augustine, or of St.
Benedict, founded in the year 1248, by
[pg 20]
Richard Clare, Earl of Gloucester. This
house was a cell to the Abbey of Becaherliven,
in Normandy, but was made
indigenous by King Henry II., who gave
it to the Abbey of St. Peter, at Westminster.
In after time, King John
changed it into a college of a dean and
secular canons. At the suppression,
its revenues were 324l. a year.

Seated on the banks of Stour river is
a priory of the Benedictine order, translated
thither from the castle, by Richard
De Tonebridge, Earl of Clare, about the
year 1315. Edmund Mortimer, Earl of
March, converted it into a collegiate
church. Elizabeth, the wife of Lionell,
Duke of Clarence, was buried in the
chancel of this priory, 1363; as was
also the duke.

The first duke was the third son of
King Edward III. He created his third
son, Lionell of Antwerp, Duke of Clarence,
in 1362. His first wife was
Elizabeth of Clare, daughter of William
De Burgh, Earl of Ulster; she died in
1363. His second wife was Violante,
daughter of the Duke of Milan. He
died in Italy, 1370.

Clarencieux, the second king-at-arms,
so called by Lionell, who first
held it. King Henry IV. created his
second son, Thomas of Lancaster, to the
earldom of Albemarle and duchy of Clarence.
He was slain in Anjou, in 1421.

The third duke was the second son of
Richard of Plantagenet, Duke of York,
George Duke of Clarence, in Suffolk.
He was accused of high treason, and
was secretly suffocated in a butt of
Malmsley, or sack wine, in a place called
Bowyer Tower, in the Tower of London,
1478, by order of his brother, King
Edward IV.

The fourth duke. There was an interregnum
of 311 years before another
Duke of Clarence. George III. created
his third son, William Henry, to the
duchy of Clarence, August 16, 1789.
The only Duke of Clarence who ever
was raised to the throne is King
William IV. of England.

CARACTACUS.

SPIRIT OF THE
Public Journals.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

(From the first of “Living Literary
Characters,” in the New Monthly
Magazine.)

It would be superfluous to continue the
list of his prose works: they are numerous;
but they are in all people’s hands,
and censure or praise would come equally
late. He has triumphed over every difficulty
of subject, place, or time—exhibited
characters humble and high, cowardly
and brave, selfish and generous,
vulgar and polished, and is at home in
them all. I was present one evening,
when Coleridge, in a long and eloquent
harangue, accused the author of Waverley
of treason against Nature, in not
drawing his characters after the fashion
of Shakspeare, but in a manner of his
own. This, without being meant, was
the highest praise Scott could well receive.
Perhaps the finest compliment
ever paid him, was at the time of the
late coronation, I think. The streets
were crowded so densely, that he could
not make his way from Charing Cross
down to Rose’s, in Abingdon-street,
though he elbowed ever so stoutly. He
applied for help to a sergeant of the
Scotch Greys, whose regiment lined the
streets. “Countryman,” said the soldier,
“I am sorry I cannot help you,”
and made no exertion. Scott whispered
his name—the blood rushed to the soldier’s
brow—he raised his bridle-hand,
and exclaimed, “Then, by G-d, sir, you
shall go down—Corporal Gordon, here—see
this gentleman safely to Abingdon-street,
come what will!” It is needless
to say how well the order was obeyed.

I have related how I travelled to Edinburgh
to see Scott, and how curiously
my wishes were fulfilled; years rolled
on, and when he came to London to be
knighted, I was not so undistinguished
as to be unknown to him by name, or to
be thought unworthy of his acquaintance.
I was given to understand, from
what his own Ailie Gourlay calls a sure
hand, that a call from me was expected,
and that I would be well received. I
went to his lodgings, in Piccadilly, with
much of the same palpitation of heart
which Boswell experienced when introduced
to Johnson. I was welcomed
with both hands, and such kind, and
complimentary words, that confusion
and fear alike forsook me. When I saw
him in Edinburgh, he was in the very
pith and flush of life—even in my opinion
a thought more fat than bard beseems;
when I looked on him now,
thirteen years had not passed over him
and left no mark behind: his hair was
growing thin and grey; the stamp of
years and study was on his brow: he
told me he had suffered much lately
from ill-health, and that he once doubted
of recovery. His eldest son, a tall,
handsome youth—now a major in the
army—was with him. From that time,
till he left London, I was frequently in
his company. He spoke of my pursuits
and prospects in life with interest and
with feeling—of my little attempts in
[pg 21]
verse and prose with a knowledge that
he had read them carefully—offered to
help me to such information as I should
require, and even mentioned a subject
in which he thought I could appear to
advantage. “If you try your hand on a
story,” he observed, “I would advise
you to prepare a kind of skeleton, and
when you have pleased yourself with
the line of narrative, you may then leisurely
clothe it with flesh and blood.”
Some years afterwards, I reminded him
of this advice. “Did you follow it?”
he inquired. “I tried,” I said; “but
I had not gone far on the road till some
confounded Will-o-wisp came in and dazzled
my sight, so that I deviated from
the path, and never found it again.”—”It
is the same way with myself,” said
he, smiling; “I form my plan, and then
I deviate.”—”Ay, ay,” I replied, “I
understand—we both deviate—- but you
deviate into excellence, and I into absurdity.”

I have seen many distinguished poets,
Burns, Byron, Southey, Wordsworth,
Campbell, Rogers, Wilson, Crabbe, and
Coleridge; but, with the exception of
Burns, Scott, for personal vigour, surpasses
them all. Burns was, indeed, a
powerful man, and Wilson is celebrated
for feats of strength and agility; I
think, however, the stalworth frame, the
long nervous arms, and well-knit joints
of Scott, are worthy of the best days of
the Border, and would have gained him
distinction at the foray which followed
the feast of spurs. On one occasion he
talked of his ancestry, Sir Thomas Lawrence,
I think, was present. One of his
forefathers, if my memory is just, sided
with the Parliament in the Civil War,
and the family estate suffered curtailment
in consequence. To make amends,
however, his son, resolving not to commit
the error of his father, joined the
Pretender, and with his brother was
engaged in that unfortunate adventure
which ended in a skirmish and captivity
at Preston, in 1715. It was the fashion
of those times for all persons of the
rank of gentlemen to wear scarlet waistcoats—a
ball had struck one of the
brothers, and carried a part of this dress
into his body; it was also the practice
to strip the captives. Thus wounded,
and nearly naked, having only a shirt on
and an old sack about him, the ancestor
of the great poet was sitting along with
his brother and a hundred and fifty
unfortunate gentlemen, in a granary at
Preston. The wounded man fell sick,
as the story goes, and vomited the scarlet
which the ball had forced into the
wound. “L——d, Wattie!” cried his
brother, “if you have got a wardrobe in
your wame, I wish you would bring me
a pair of breeks, for I have meikle need
of them.” The wound healed; I know
not whether he was one of those fortunate
men who mastered the guard at
Newgate, and escaped to the continent.

The mystery which hung so long
over the authorship of the Waverley
Novels, was cleared up by a misfortune
which all the world deplores, and which
would have crushed any other spirit
save that of Scott. This stroke of evil
fortune did not, perhaps, come quite
unexpected; it was, however, unavoidable,
and it arose from no mismanagement
or miscalculation of his own, unless
I may consider—which I do not—his
embarking in the hazards of a printing-house,
a piece of miscalculation. It is
said, that he received warnings: the
paper of Constable, the bookseller, or,
to speak plainer, long money-bills were
much in circulation: one of them, for a
large sum, made its appearance in the
Bank of Scotland, with Scott’s name
upon it, and a secretary sent for Sir
Walter. “Do you know,” said he,
“that Constable has many such bills
abroad—Sir Walter, I warn you.”—”Well,”
answered Sir Walter, “it is,
perhaps, as you say, and I thank you;
but,” raising his voice, “Archie Constable
was a good friend to me when
friends were rarer than now, and I will
not see him balked for the sake of a
few thousand pounds.” The amount
of the sum for which Scott, on the failure
of Constable, became responsible, I have
heard various accounts of—varying from
fifty to seventy thousand pounds. Some
generous and wealthy person sent him
a blank check, properly signed, upon
the bank, desiring him to fill in the sum,
and relieve himself; but he returned it,
with proper acknowledgments. He took,
as it were, the debt upon himself, as a
loan, the whole payable, with interest,
in ten years; and to work he went, with
head, and heart, and hand, to amend
his broken fortunes. I had several letters
from him during these disastrous
days: the language was cheerful, and
there were no allusions to what had
happened. It is true, there was no
occasion for him to mention these occurrences
to me: all that he said about
them was—”I miss my daughter, Mrs.
Lockhart, who used to sing to me; I
have some need of her now.” No general,
after a bloody and disastrous battle,
ever set about preparing himself for a
more successful contest than did this
distinguished man. Work succeeded
work with unheard of rapidity; the
[pg 22]
chief of which was, “The Life of Napoleon
Bonaparte,” in nine volumes—a
production of singular power, and an
almost perfect work, with the exception
of the parts which treat of the French
Revolution, and the captivity of the
great prisoner. I had the curiosity, on
seeing one of the reviews praising Hazlitt’s
description of the Battle of the
Pyramid’s, to turn to the account of
Scott. I need not say which was best:
Scott’s was like the sounding of a trumpet.
The present cheap and truly elegant
edition of the works of the author
of “Waverley” has, with its deservedly
unrivalled sale, relieved the poet from
his difficulties, and the cloud which
hung so long over the towers of Abbotsford
has given place to sunshine.

Of Abbotsford itself, the best description
ever given, at least the briefest, was
“A Romance in stone and lime.” It
would require a volume to describe all
the curiosities, ancient and modern,
living and dead, which are here gathered
together;—I say living, because a menagerie
might be formed out of birds and
beasts, sent as presents from distant
lands. A friend told me he was at
Abbotsford one evening, when a servant
announced, “A present from”—I forget
what chieftain in the North.—”Bring
it in,” said the poet. The sound of
strange feet were soon heard, and in
came two beautiful Shetland ponies,
with long manes and uncut tails, and so
small that they might have been sent to
Elfland, to the Queen of the Fairies
herself. One poor Scotsman, to show
his gratitude for some kindness Scott,
as sheriff, had shown him, sent two
kangaroos from New Holland; and
Washington Irving lately told me, that
some Spaniard or other, having caught
two young wild Andalusian boars, consulted
him how he might have them
sent to the author of “The Vision of
Don Roderick.”

This distinguished poet and novelist
is now some sixty years old—hale, fresh,
and vigorous, with his imagination as
bright, and his conceptions as clear and
graphic, as ever. I have now before
me a dozen or fifteen volumes of his
poetry, including his latest—”Halidon
Hill”—one of the most heroically-touching
poems of modern times—and
somewhere about eighty volumes of his
prose: his letters, were they collected,
would amount to fifty volumes more.
Some authors, though not in this land,
have been even more prolific; but their
progeny were ill-formed at their birth,
and could never walk alone; whereas
the mental offspring of our illustrious
countryman came healthy and vigorous
into the world, and promise long to continue.
To vary the metaphor—the tree
of some other men’s fancy bears fruit
at the rate of a pint of apples to a peck
of crabs; whereas the tree of the great
magician bears the sweetest fruit—large
and red-cheeked—fair to look upon, and
right pleasant to the taste. I shall conclude
with the words of Sir Walter,
which no man can contradict, and which
many can attest: “I never refused a
literary person of merit such services in
smoothing his way to the public as were
in my power; and I had the advantage—rather
an uncommon one with our
irritable race—to enjoy general favour,
without incurring permanent ill-will, so
far as is known to me, among any of my
contemporaries.”

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.—IN HONOUR OF
MAGA. (BLACKWOOD.)

SUNG BY THE CONTRIBUTORS.

Noo—hearken till me—and I’ll beat Matthews
or Yates a’ to sticks wi’ my impersonations.

Blackwood—Noctes.

Notes of a Reader.

KNOWLEDGE FOR THE PEOPLE; OR,
THE PLAIN WHY AND BECAUSE.

PART III.—Origins and Antiquities.

This contains the Why and Because of
the Curiosities of the Calendar; the Customs
and Ceremonies of Special Days;
and a few of the Origins and Antiquities
of Social Life. We quote a page of
articles, perhaps, the longest in the
Number:—

Cock-fighting.

Why was throwing at cocks formerly
customary on Shrove Tuesday?

Because the crowing of a cock once
prevented our Saxon ancestors from
massacreing their conquerors, another
part of our ancestors, the Danes, on the
morning of a Shrove Tuesday, while
asleep in their beds.

This is the account generally received,
although two lines in an epigram
“On a Cock at Rochester,” by the witty
Sir Charles Sedley, imply that the cock
suffered this annual barbarity by way of
punishment for St. Peter’s crime, in denying
his Lord and Master—

A writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine
also says—”The barbarous practice of
throwing at a cock tied to a stake on
Shrovetide, I think I have read, has an
allusion to the indignities offered by the
Jews to the Saviour of the World before
his crucifixion.”—Ellis’s Notes to Brand.

Why was cock-fighting a popular
sport in Greece?

Because of its origin from the Athenians,
on the following occasion: When
Themistocles was marching his army
against the Persians, he, by the way,
espying two cocks fighting, caused his
army to halt, and addressed them as
follows—”Behold! these do not fight
for their household gods, for the monuments
of their ancestors, nor for glory,
nor for liberty, nor for the safety of
their children, but only because the one
will not give way to the other.”—This
so encouraged the Grecians, that they
fought strenuously, and obtained the
victory over the Persians; upon which,
cock-fighting was, by a particular law,
ordered to be annually celebrated by the
Athenians.

Cæsar mentions the English cocks in
his Commentaries; but the earliest
notice of cock-fighting in England, is by
Fitzstephen the monk, who died in 1191.

St. George.

Why is St. George the patron saint of
England?

Because, when Robert, Duke of Normandy,
the son of William the Conqueror,
was fighting against the Turks,
and laying siege to the famous city of
Antioch, which was expected to be relieved
by the Saracens, St. George appeared
with an innumerable army,
coming down from the hills, all clad in
white, with a red cross on his banner,
to reinforce the Christians. This so
terrified the infidels that they fled, and
left the Christians in possession of the
town.—Butler.

Why is St. George usually painted on
horseback, and tilting at a dragon under
his feet?

Because the representation is emblematical
of his faith and fortitude, by
which he conquered the devil, called the
dragon in the Apocalypse.—Butler.

Why was the Order of the Garter instituted?

Because of the victory obtained over
the French at the battle of Cressy, when
Edward ordered his garter to be displayed
as a signal of battle; to commemorate
which, he made a garter the
principal ornament of an order, and a
symbol of the indissoluble union of the
knights. The order is under the patronage
or protection of St. George,
whence he figures in its insignia. Such
is the account of Camden, Fern, and
others. The common story of the order
being instituted in honour of a garter of
the Countess of Salisbury, which she
dropped in dancing, and which was
picked up by King Edward, has been
denounced as fabulous by our best antiquaries.

Cock-crow.

Why was it formerly supposed that
cocks crowed all Christmas-eve?

Because the weather is then usually
cloudy and dark (whence “the dark days
before Christmas,”) and cocks, during
such weather, often crow nearly all day
and all night. Shakspeare alludes to
this superstition in Hamlet—

The ancient Christians divided the
night into four watches, called the evening,
midnight, and two morning cock-crowings.
Their connexion with the
belief in walking spirits will be remembered—

Who can ever forget the night-watches
proclaimed by the cock in that scene in
Comus, where the two brothers, in
search of their sister, are benighted in a
forest?—

Dr. Forster observes—”There is this
remarkable circumstance about the crowing
of cocks—they seem to keep night-watches,
or to have general crowing-matches,
at certain periods—as, soon
after twelve, at two, and again at day-break.
These are the Alectrephones
mentioned by St. John. To us, these
cock-crowings do not appear quite so
regular in their times of occurrence,
though they actually observe certain
periods, when not interrupted by the
changes of the weather, which generally
produce a great deal of crowing. Indeed,
the song of all birds is much influenced
by the state of the air.” Dr. F. also
mentions, “that cocks began to crow
during the darkness of the eclipse of the
sun, Sept. 4, 1820; and it seems that
crepusculum (or twilight) is the sort of
light in which they crow most.”

Goes of Liquor.

Why did tavern-keepers originally call
portions of liquor “goes?”

Because of the following incident,
which, though unimportant in itself,
convinces us how much custom is influenced
by the most trifling occurrences:—The
tavern called the Queen’s
Head, in Duke’s-court, Bow-street, was
once kept by a facetious individual of
the name of Jupp. Two celebrated
characters, Annesley Spay and Bob
Todrington, a sporting man, meeting
one evening at the above place, went to
the bar, and each asked for half a quartern
of spirits, with a little cold water.
In the course of time, they drank four-and-twenty,
when Spay said to the other,
“Now we’ll go.”—”O no,” replied he,
“we’ll have another, and then go.”—This
did not satisfy the gay fellows, and
they continued drinking on till three in
the morning, when both agreed to GO;
so that under the idea of going, they
made a long stay. Such was the origin
of drinking, or calling for, goes.

Why was the celebrated cabinet council
of Charles II. called the Cabal?

Because the initials of the names of
the five councillors formed that word,
thus—

COMPANION TO THE ALMANAC.

The volume for the present year appears
to bring into play all the advantages
of the Society for the Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge. The majority of
the papers are of permanent value,—as
the Division of the Day—a Table of the
difference between London and Country
Time—the continuation of the “Natural
History of the Weather,” commenced
in last year’s Companion—Chronological
Table of Political Treaties,
from 1326—a Literary Chronology
of Contemporaneous Authors from the
earliest times, on the plan of last year’s
Regal Table—Tables for calculating the
Heights of Mountains by the Barometer—and
illustrative papers on Life Assurance,
the Irish Poor, and East India
Trade.

The condensations of the official documents
of the year follow; and from
these we select two or three examples:

Bankruptcy Analysis, from November 1,
1829, to November 1, 1830.

Agricultural Implement Maker, 1;
Anchorsmiths, 3; Apothecaries, 7;
Auctioneers, 10; Bakers, 15; Bankers,
[pg 25]
3; Barge-master, 1; Basket-maker, 1;
Blacksmiths, 2; Bleacher, 1; Boarding-house
Keepers, 9; Boarding-school
Keeper, 1; Boat-builder, 1; Bombasin
Manufacturer, 1; Bone Merchant, 1;
Bookbinders, 3; Booksellers, 20; Boot
and Shoemakers, 14; Brassfounders, 4;
Brewers, 17; Bricklayers, 5; Brickmakers,
4; Brokers, 10; Brush Manufacturer,
1; Builders, 38; Butchers, 8;
Cabinet Makers, 9; Calico Printers,
3; Canvass Manufacturer, 1; Cap
Manufacturer, 1; Carpenters, 12;
Carpet Manufacturer, 1; Carriers,
4; Carvers and Gilders, 2; Cattle
Dealers, 13; Cement Maker, 1; Cheesemongers,
12; China Dealers, 2; Chemists
and Druggists, 16; Clothes’ Salesman
1; Clothiers, 9; Cloth Merchants,
8; Coach Builders, 10; Coach Proprietors,
9; Coal Merchants, 28; Coffeehouse
Keeper, 1; Colour Maker, 1;
Commission Agents, 7; Confectioners,
3; Cook, 1; Cork Merchants, 2; Corn
Merchants, 36; Cotton Manufacturers,
16; Curriers, 8; Cutlers, 3; Dairyman,
1; Dealers, 20; Drapers, 35;
Drysalter, 1; Dyers, 12; Earthenware
Manufacturers, 4; Edge-tool Maker, 1;
Engineers, 5; Factors, 4; Farmers,
15; Farrier, 1; Feather Merchants, 3;
Fellmongers, 2; Fishmongers, 2: Flannel
Manufacturers, 2; Flax-dressers,
&c., 2; Fruit Salesman 1; Furriers, 3;
Gardener, 1; Gingham Manufacturers,
2; Glass Cutters, 2; Glass Dealers, 3;
Glove Manufacturers, 2; Goldsmiths,
2; Grazier, 1; Grocers, 98; Gunmakers,
4; Haberdashers, 4; Hardwareman,
1; Hat Manufacturers, 9;
Hop Merchants, 2; Horse Dealers, 10;
Hosiers, 9; Innkeepers, 40; Ironfounders,
5; Iron Masters, 4; Iron
Merchants, 4; Ironmongers, 19; Jewellers,
7; Joiners, 7; Lace Dealer, 1;
Lace Manufacturers, 3; Lapidary 1;
Leather Cutters, 2; Leather Dressers,
2; Lime Burners, 5; Linendrapers, 62;
Linen Manufacturers, 2; Livery Stable
Keepers, 9; Looking Glass Manufacturer,
1; Machine Makers, 2; Maltsters,
9; Manchester Warehousemen,
2; Manufacturers, 10; Manufacturing
Chemist, 1; Master Mariners, 10;
Mast Maker, 1; Mattress Maker, 1;
Mealman, 1; Mercers, 16; Merchants,
71; Millers, 22; Milliners, 7; Miner,
1; Money Scriveners, 21; MusicSellers,
5; Nurserymen, 4; Oil and Colourman,
8; Painters, 6; Paper Hanger, 1;
Paper Manufacturers, 8; Pawnbrokers,
2; Perfumers, 4; Picture Dealers, 3;
Pill Box Maker, 1; Plasterer, 1;
Plumbers, 12; Porter Dealers, 2; Potter,
1; Poulterer, 1; Printers, 4; Provision
Brokers, 2; Ribbon Manufacturers,
6; Rope Manufacturer, 1; Sack
Maker, 1; Saddlers, 6; Sail Cloth
Makers, 2; Sail Makers, 4; Salesmen,
3; Scavenger, 1; Schoolmasters, 6;
Seedsmen, 2; Ship Chandlers, 3; Ship
Owners, 5; Shipwrights, 8; Shopkeepers,
11; Silk Manufacturers, 6;
Silk Throwsters, 2; Silversmiths, 2;
Slate Merchants, 2; Smiths, 2; Soap
Maker, 1; Stationers, 7; Statuaries,
2; Steam Boiler Manufacturers, 2;
Stock Brokers, 2; Stocking Manufacturer,
1; Stonemasons, 8; Stuff Merchants,
7; Sugar Refiner, 1; Surgeons,
13; Surveyor, 1; Tailors, 25; Tallow
Chandler, 1; Tanners, 7; Tavern
Keepers, 3; Timber Merchants, 18;
Tinmen, 3; Tobacconists, 4; Toymen,
3; Turners, 2; Umbrella Manufacturer,
1; Underwriter, 1; Upholsterers,
16; Veneer Cutter, 1; Victuallers, 88;
Warehousemen, 15; Watch and Clock
Makers, 6; Wax Chandler 1; Wheelwright,
1; White Lead Manufacturer,
1; Whitesmith, 1; Whitster, 1; Wine
and Spirit Merchants, 50; Woollen
Drapers, 18; Woolstaplers, 5; Worsted
Manufacturers, 6.—Total, 1467.

This is but a gloomy page in the
commercial annals.

Duties on Soap and Candles.

The amount of the duty on Candles
has been, for the year ending 5th of
Jan. 1826, 491,236l.; 1827, 471,994l.;
1828, 492,622l.; 1829, 503,779l.; 1830,
495,138l.

The rate of duty on the above articles
is—On hard soap, 3d. per lb.; soft soap,
1¾d.; candles, tallow, 1d. per lb.; wax
and spermaceti, 3½d. These duties are
payable by law one week after the accounts
are made up; but as the accounts
for the country include the operations
of six or seven weeks alternately,
the period allowed for payment depends
upon the locality of the traders, as those
resident where the collector attends
latest upon the round have a proportionally
longer credit; the time allowed
for payment may be stated generally at
from fourteen to twenty-eight days.
Within the limits of the chief office the
duties on candles are paid weekly; but
those on soap have, by custom, been extended
to fourteen days after the account
has been made up.

Duties on Newspapers.

Amount of Stamp Duties on Newspapers
and Advertisements in England
and Scotland, during the five
years ending January 5, 1830:

In Ireland the total number of Newspaper
Stamps issued has been, in the
years ending 5th Jan. 1827, 3,473,014;
1828, 3,545,846; 1829, 3,790,272; and
1830, 3,953,550.

The Selector;
AND
LITERARY NOTICES OF
NEW WORKS.

MOORE’S LIFE OF BYRON. VOL. II.

It is our intention to condense a sheet of
extracts from the above volume, upon the
plan adopted by us on the appearance
of the previous portion of the work.
Our publishing arrangements will not,
however, advantageously allow the appearance
of this sheet until next Saturday
week. In the meantime, a few extracts,
per se, may gratify the curiosity
of the reader, and not interfere with the
interest of our proposed Supplement.

Extracts from Lord Byron’s Journal.

“Diodati, near Geneva, Sept. 19th, 1816.

“Rose at five. Crossed the mountains
to Montbovon on horseback, and
on mules, and, by dint of scrambling,
on foot also; the whole route
beautiful as a dream, and now to me
almost as indistinct. I am so tired;—for,
though healthy, I have not the
strength I possessed but a few years
ago. At Montbovon we breakfasted;
afterwards, on a steep ascent, dismounted;
tumbled down; cut a finger open;
the baggage also got loose and fell down
a ravine, till stopped by a large tree;
recovered baggage; horse tired and
drooping; mounted mule. At the approach
of the summit of Dent Jument¹
dismounted again with Hobhouse and
all the party. Arrived at a lake in the
very bosom of the mountains; left our
quadrupeds with a shepherd, and ascended
farther; came to some snow in
patches, upon which my forehead’s perspiration
fell like rain, making the same
dints as in a sieve; the chill of the wind
and the snow turned me giddy, but I
scrambled on and upwards. Hobhouse
went to the highest pinnacle; I did not,
but paused within a few yards (at an
opening of the cliff.) In coming down,
the guide tumbled three times; I fell a
laughing, and tumbled too—the descent
luckily soft, though steep and slippery;
Hobhouse also fell, but nobody hurt.
The whole of the mountains superb. A
shepherd on a very steep and high cliff
playing upon his pipe; very different
from Arcadia, where I saw the pastors
with a long musket instead of a crook,
and pistols in their girdles. Our Swiss
shepherd’s pipe was sweet, and his tune
agreeable. I saw a cow strayed; am
told that they often break their necks
on and over the crags. Descended to
Montbovon; pretty scraggy village, with
a wild river and a wooden bridge. Hobhouse
went to fish—caught one. Our
carriage not come; our horses, mules,
&c. knocked up; ourselves fatigued.

“The view from the highest points
of to-day’s journey comprised on one
side the greatest part of Lake Leman;
on the other, the valleys and mountain
of the Canton of Fribourg, and an immense
plain, with the Lakes of Neuchâtel
and Morat, and all which the
borders of the Lake of Geneva inherit;
we had both sides of the Jura before us
in one point of view, with Alps in
plenty. In passing a ravine, the guide
recommended strenuously a quickening
of pace, as the stones fall with great
rapidity and occasional damage; the
advice is excellent, but, like most good
advice, impracticable, the road being so
rough that neither mules, nor mankind,
nor horses, can make any violent progress.
Passed without fractures or menace
thereof.

“The music of the cows’ bells (for
their wealth, like the patriarchs’, is
cattle,) in the pastures, which reach to
a height far above any mountains in
Britain, and the shepherds shouting to
us from crag to crag, and playing on
their reeds where the steeps appeared
almost inaccessible, with the surrounding
scenery, realized all that I have ever
heard or imagined of a pastoral existence;—much
more so than Greece or
Asia Minor, for there we are a little too
much of the sabre and musket order—and
if there is a crook in one hand, you
are sure to see a gun in the other;—but
this was pure and unmixed—solitary,
savage, and patriarchal. As we
went, they played the ‘Ranz des
Vaches’ and other airs by way of farewell.
I have lately repeopled my mind
with nature.

“Sept. 20th.

“Up at six; off at eight. The whole
of this day’s journey at an average of
between from 2,700 to 3,000 feet above
[pg 27]
the level of the sea. This valley, the
longest, narrowest, and considered the
finest of the Alps, little traversed by
travellers. Saw the bridge of La Roche.
The bed of the river very low and deep,
between immense rocks, and rapid as
anger;—a man and mule said to have
tumbled over without damage. The
people looked free, and happy, and
rich (which last implies neither of the
former;) the cows superb; a bull
nearly leapt into the char-à-banc—’agreeable
companion in a post-chaise;’
goats and sheep very thriving. A mountain
with enormous glaciers to the right—the
Klitzgerberg; further on, the
Hockthorn—nice names—so soft;—Stockhorn,
I believe, very lofty and
scraggy, patched with snow only; no
glaciers on it, but some good epaulettes
of clouds.

“Passed the boundaries, out of Vaud
and into Berne canton; French exchanged
for bad German; the district
famous for cheese, liberty, property,
and no taxes. Hobhouse went to fish—caught
none. Strolled to the river—saw
boy and kid—kid followed him like
a dog—kid could not get over a fence,
and bleated piteously—tried myself to
help kid, but nearly overset both self
and kid into the river. Arrived here
about six in the evening. Nine o’clock—going
to bed; not tired to-day, but
hope to sleep, nevertheless.”

“Sept. 22nd.

“Left Thoun in a boat, which carried
us the length of the lake in three
hours. The lake small, but the banks
fine. Rocks down to the water’s edge.
Landed at Newhause—passed Interlachen—entered
upon a range of scenes
beyond all description, or previous conception.
Passed a rock: inscription—two
brothers—one murdered the other;
just the place for it. After a variety of
windings came to an enormous rock.
Arrived at the foot of the mountain (the
Jungfrau, that is, the Maiden)—glaciers—torrents:
one of these torrents
nine hundred feet in height of visible
descent. Lodged at the curate’s. Set
out to see the valley—heard an avalanche
fall, like thunder—glaciers enormous—storm
came on, thunder, lightning, hail—all
in perfection, and beautiful. I
was on horseback; guide wanted to
carry my cane; I was going to give it
him, when I recollected that it was a
sword-stick, and I thought the lightning
might be attracted towards him; kept it
myself; a good deal encumbered with it,
as it was too heavy for a whip, and the
horse was stupid, and stood with every
other peal. Got in, not very wet, the
cloak being stanch. Hobhouse wet
through; Hobhouse took refuge in cottage;
sent man, umbrella, and cloak,
(from the curate’s when I arrived) after
him. Swiss curate’s house very good
indeed—much better than most English
vicarages. It is immediately opposite
the torrent I spoke of. The torrent is
in shape curving over the rock, like the
tail of a white horse streaming in the
wind, such as it might be conceived
would be that of the ‘pale horse’ on
which Death is mounted in the Apocalypse.²
It is neither mist nor water,
but a something between both; its immense
height (nine hundred feet) gives
it a wave or curve, a spreading here, or
condensation there, wonderful and indescribable.
I think, upon the whole,
that this day has been better than any
of this present excursion.

“Sept. 23rd.

“Before ascending the mountain,
went to the torrent (seven in the morning)
again; the sun upon it, forming a
rainbow of the lower part of all colours,
but principally purple and gold; the
bow moving as you move; I never saw
anything like this: it is only in the sunshine.
Ascended the Wengen mountain;
at noon reached a valley on the
summit; left the horses, took off my
coat, and went to the summit, seven
thousand feet (English feet) above the
level of the sea, and about five thousand
above the valley we left in the morning.
On one side, our view comprised the
Jungfrau, with all her glaciers; then
the Dent d’Argent, shining like truth;
then the Little Giant (the Kleine
Eigher;) and the Great Giant (the
Grosse Eigher,) and last, not least,
the Wetterhorn. The height of the
Jungfrau is 13,000 feet above the sea,
11,000 above the valley: she is the
highest of this range. Heard the avalanches
falling every five minutes nearly.
From whence we stood, on the Wengen
Alp, we had all these in view on one
side; on the other, the clouds rose from
the opposite valley, curling up perpendicular
precipices like the foam of the
ocean of hell, during a spring tide—it
was white and sulphury, and immeasurably
[pg 28]
deep in appearance.³ The side
we ascended was, of course, not of so
precipitous a nature; but on arriving at
the summit, we looked down upon the
other side upon a boiling sea of cloud,
dashing against the crags on which we
stood (these crags on one side quite perpendicular.)
Staid a quarter of an hour—begun
to descend—quite clear from
cloud on that side of the mountain. In
passing the masses of snow, I made a
snowball and pelted Hobhouse with it.

“Got down to our horses again; ate
something; remounted; heard the avalanches
still: came to a morass; Hobhouse
dismounted to get over well; I
tried to pass my horse over; the horse
sunk up to the chin, and of course he
and I were in the mud together; bemired,
but not hurt; laughed, and rode
on. Arrived at the Grindenwald; dined,
mounted again, and rode to the higher
glacier—like a frozen hurricane.⁴ Starlight,
beautiful, but a devil of a path!
Never mind, got safe in; a little lightning,
but the whole of the day as fine
in point of weather as the day on which
Paradise was made. Passed whole woods
of withered pines, all withered; trunks
stripped and lifeless, branches lifeless;
done by a single winter.”⁵

Shelley and Byron,

It appears, first met at Geneva:—

There was no want of disposition
towards acquaintance on either side,
and an intimacy almost immediately
sprung up between them. Among the
tastes common to both, that for boating
was not the least strong; and in this
beautiful region they had more than
ordinary temptations to indulge in it.
Every evening, during their residence
under the same roof at Sécheron, they
embarked, accompanied by the ladies
and Polidori, on the Lake; and to the
feelings and fancies inspired by these
excursions, which were not unfrequently
prolonged into the hour of moonlight,
we are indebted for some of those enchanting
stanzas⁶ in which the poet has
given way to his passionate love of Nature
so fervidly.

A person who was of these parties
has thus described to me one of their
evenings. ‘When the bise or northeast
wind blows, the waters of the Lake
are driven towards the town, and, with
the stream of the Rhone, which sets
strongly in the same direction, combine
to make a very rapid current towards the
harbour. Carelessly, one evening, we
had yielded to its course, till we found
ourselves almost driven on the piles;
and it required all our rowers’ strength
to master the tide. The waves were
high and inspiriting,—we were all animated
by our contest with the elements.
‘I will sing you an Albanian song,’ cried
Lord Byron; ‘now be sentimental, and
give me all your attention.’ It was a
strange, wild howl that he gave forth;
but such as, he declared, was an exact
imitation of the savage Albanian mode,
laughing, the while, at our disappointment,
who had expected a wild Eastern
melody.

Sometimes the party landed, for a
walk upon the shore, and, on such
occasions, Lord Byron would loiter behind
the rest, lazily trailing his sword-*stick
along, and moulding, as he went,
his thronging thoughts into shape.
Often too, when in the boat, he would
lean abstractedly over he side, and surrender
himself up, in silence, to the
same absorbing task.

The conversation of Mr. Shelley,
from the extent of his poetic reading
and the strange, mystic speculations
into which his system of philosophy led
him, was of a nature strongly to arrest
and interest the attention of Lord Byron,
and to turn him away from worldly associations
and topics into more abstract
and untrodden ways of thought. As
far as contrast, indeed, is an enlivening
ingredient of such intercourse, it would
be difficult to find two persons more
formed to whet each other’s faculties by
discussion, as on few points of common
interest between them did their opinions
agree; and that this difference
had its root deep in the conformation
of their respective minds needs but a
glance through the rich, glittering labyrinth
[pg 29]
of Mr. Shelley’s pages to assure
us.

Letter of Lord to Lady Byron.

“I have to acknowledge the receipt
of ‘Ada’s hair,’ which is very soft and
pretty, and nearly as dark already as
mine was at twelve years old, if I may
judge from what I recollect of some in
Augusta’s possession, taken at that age.
But it don’t curl—perhaps from its being
let grow. I also thank you for the
inscription of the date and name, and I
will tell you why;—I believe that they
are the only two or three words of your
hand-writing in my possession. For
your letters I returned, and except the
two words, or rather the one word,
‘household,’ written twice in an old account
book, I have no other. I burnt
your last note, for two reasons:—firstly,
it was written in a style not very agreeable;
and, secondly, I wish to take your
word without documents, which are the
worldly resources of suspicious people.
I suppose that this note will reach you
somewhere about Ada’s birthday—the
10th of December, I believe. She will
then be six; so that in about twelve more
I shall have some chance of meeting her;
perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go
to England by business or otherwise.
Recollect, however, one thing, either in
distance or nearness;—every day which
keeps us asunder should, after so long
a period, rather soften our mutual feelings,
which must always have one rallying-point
as long as our child exists,
which I presume we both hope will be
long after either of her parents. The
time which has elapsed since the separation
has been considerably more than
the whole brief period of our union,
and the not much longer one of our
prior acquaintance. We both made a
bitter mistake; but now it is over, and
irrevocably so. For, at thirty-three on
my part, and a few years less on yours,
though it is no very extended period of
life, still it is one when the habits and
thought are generally so formed as to
admit of no modification; and as we
could not agree when younger, we
should with difficulty do so now. I say
all this, because I own to you, that,
notwithstanding everything, I considered
our re-union as not impossible for more
than a year after the separation; but
then I gave up the hope entirely and for
ever. But this very impossibility of reunion
seems to me at least a reason why,
on all the few points of discussion which
can arise between us, we should preserve
the courtesies of life, and as much
of its kindness as people who are never
to meet may preserve perhaps more
easily than nearer connexions. For my
own part, I am violent, but not malignant;
for only fresh provocations can
awaken my resentments. To you, who
are colder and more concentrated, I
would just hint, that you may sometimes
mistake the depth of a cold anger
for dignity, and a worse feeling for duty.
I assure you, that I bear you now (whatever
I may have done) no resentment
whatever. Remember, that if you have
injured me in aught, this forgiveness is
something; and that, if I have injured
you, it is something more still, if it be
true as the moralists say, that the most
offending are the least forgiving. Whether
the offence has been solely on my side,
or reciprocal, or on yours chiefly, I have
ceased to reflect upon any but two
things,—viz. that you are the mother of
my child, and that we shall never meet
again. I think if you also consider the
two corresponding points with reference
to myself, it will be better for all three.”

The Naturalist.

DANCING FISH—SEA-SERPENT, &c.

In a paper on “Oceanic Dangers,” in
the United Service Journal is the following:—

There is a species of grampus from
two to three tons weight, and about sixteen
feet in length, that amuses itself
with jumping, or rather springing its
ponderous body entirely out of the water,
in a vertical position, and falling
upon its back; this effort of so large a
fish is almost incredible, and informs us
how surprisingly great the power of
muscle must be in this class of animal.
I have seen them spring out of the water
within ten yards of the ship’s side,
generally in the evening, after having
swam all the former part of the day in
the ship’s wake, or on either quarter.
When several of these fish take it into
their heads to dance a “hornpipe,” as
the sailors have termed their gambols,
at the distance of half a mile they, especially
at or just after sun-down, may
easily be mistaken for the sharp points
of rocks sticking up out of the water,
and the splashing and foam they make
and produce have the appearance of the
action of the waves upon rocks. An
officer of the navy informed me, that
after sunset, when near the equator, he
was not a little alarmed and surprised
(because quite unexpected) at the cry of
“rocks on the starboard bow:” looking
forward through the dubious light (if
the expression may be admitted,) he indistinctly
[pg 30]
saw objects which he and all
on board took to be the pinnacles of several
rocks of a black and white colour:
in a short time, however he discovered
this formidable danger to be nothing
more than a company of dancing grampuses
with white bellies: as one disappeared,
another rose, so that there were
at least five or six constantly above the
surface!

The uncertainty attending the visual
organ during the continuance of the aurora
and of the twilight, must have been
noticed by all those person’s who have
frequented the ocean. Most sailors have
the power of eye-sight strengthened
from constant practice, and from having
an unobstructed view so generally before
them; yet I have known an officer,
who was famous for his quickness of
sight, declare that in the evening and
morning he found it difficult to retain
sight for more than a second or two at a
time, of a strange sail; at night, even
with an inverting glass, his practised eye
could retain the object more steadily.

The public were amused for some
time, a few years ago, by the tales of
brother Jonathan respecting the huge
sea-serpent. Without at all disputing
the existence of creatures of that nature
in the ocean, I have little doubt that a
sight I witnessed in a voyage to the
West Indies, was precisely such as some
of the Americans had construed into a
“sea-serpent a mile in length,” agreeing,
as it did, with one or two of the
accounts given. This was nothing more
than a tribe of black porpoises in one
line, extending fully a quarter of a mile,
fast asleep! The appearance certainly
was a little singular, not unlike a raft of
puncheons, or a ridge of rocks; but the
moment it was seen, some one exclaimed,
(I believe the captain)—”here is a
solution of Jonathan’s enigma”—and
the resemblance to his “sea-serpent”
was at once striking.

Ice, sometimes, when a-wash with the
surface of the sea may be mistaken for
breakers; and that which is called
“black ice” has, both by Capt. Parry
and Mr. Weddell, been taken for rocks
until a close approach convinced them
of the contrary; and, I dare say, others
have been in like manner deceived, especially
near Newfoundland.

A scole of or indeed, a single, devil
fish (Lophius) when deep in the water,
may appear like a shoal; and I think, that
of all the various appearances of strange
things seen at sea, this monstrous animal
is more likely to deceive the judgment
into a belief of a submarine danger
being where none actually exists,
than any other. I have watched one of
these extraordinary creatures, as it passed
slowly along, occupying a space two-thirds
of the length of the ship (a 32-gun
frigate;) its shape was nearly circular,
of a dark green colour, spotted
with white and light green shades, like
the ray, and some other flat-fish.

Mr. Kriukof gave a curious description
to Capt. Kotzebue of a marine serpent
which pursued him off Behring’s
island: it was red and enormously long,
the head resembling that of the sea-lion,
at the same time two disproportionately
large eyes gave it a frightful appearance.
Mr. Kriukof’s situation seems to have
been almost as perilous above the surface
of the sea, as Lieutenant Hardy’s
Spanish diver’s was, with the tinterero
underneath!

In the History of Greenland, (which,
by the by, may with propriety be called
Parrynese,) I think there is a well authenticated
account of a large sea-serpent
seen upon the coast of that vast
insular land in Hudson’s sea.

Sea-Devil.—Extract from the log-book
of the ship Douglas.—”Sailed
May 3rd from Curaçoa. May 6th, at
three P.M. in lat. 35 long. 68.40, made,
as we supposed, a vessel bottom up, five
or six miles distant—proceeded within
forty feet of the object, which appeared
in the form of a turtle—its height above
water ten or twelve feet; in length
twenty-five or thirty feet, and in breadth
twelve feet, with oars or flappers, one
on each side; twelve or fifteen feet in
length, one-third of the way from his
tail forward, and one on each side near
his tail five feet long. The tail twenty
to twenty-five feet long,—had a large
lion face with large eyes. The shell or
body looked like a clinker-built boat of
twenty-five or thirty tons, bottom up,
and the seams of the laps newly paid.
There were some large branches on him.
This animal was standing south-east,
and in the course of Bermuda, and his
velocity about two knots per hour. A
vessel running foul of this monster
might be much injured.—New York
Paper, May 22.

Spawn of fish, minute mollusca, the
small classes of squilla and cancer, are
known to voyagers as causing a discolouration
of the sea in particular
places. Patches and lines of these are
often seen within the tropics, of a brown
colour, and sometimes of a yellow, and
of a red shade, floating upon the surface
of the ocean, which, to those unused
to such sights, are considered as
indications of danger beneath. I met
with two patches of this description
[pg 31]
lately in the Torrid Zone, but the captain
being familiar with such instances,
sailed through them without apprehension.
The first consisted of myriads of
small orbicular medusæ, about the size
of a pea, of a purple hue; the other
patch of a reddish-brown colour, was
produced by small mollusca, the size of
a needle, and about a line in length.

The Gatherer.

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.

SHAKSPEARE.

CURIOUS SIGN.

The following is on a violin maker’s
sign-board, at Limerick:—”New Villins
mad here and old ones rippard, also
new heads, ribs, backs, and bellys mad
on the shortest notice. N.B. Choes
mended, &c.

“Pat O’Shegnassy, painter.”

W.G.C.

ANCIENT PROPHECY.

The author of “The Blasynge of
Armes,”⁷ at the end of Dame Julian
Berners’s celebrated Treatise on Hawking,
Hunting, and Fishing, has informed
us that “Tharmes of the Kynge of
Fraunce were certaynly sent by an angel
from heven, that is to saye, thre floures
in manere of swerdes in a feld of azure,
the whyche certer armes were given to
the forsayd Kynge of Fraunce in sygne
of everlastynge trowble, and that he
and his successours alway with batayle
and swerdes sholde be punysshyd.”

BATHOS AND PATHOS.

Perceiving that you sometimes admit
curious and eccentric epitaphs into your
very amusing and instructive periodical,
if the enclosed is worthy a place, it at
least has this merit, if no other, that it
is a literal copy, from a tombstone in
St. Edmund’s churchyard, Sarum:—

In Memory of 3 Children of Joseph and
Arabella Maton, who all died in their
Infancy, 1770.

1.

2.

3.

W.C.

THE LETTER B.

Its pronunciation is supposed to resemble
the bleating of a sheep; upon
which account the Egyptians represented
the sound of this letter by the figure
of that animal. It is also one of those
letters which the eastern grammarians
call labial, because the principal organs
employed in its pronunciation are the
lips. With the ancients, B as a numeral
stood for 300. When a line was drawn
above it, it stood for 3,000, and with a
kind of accent below it, for 200.

P.T.W.

A DOUBLE.

I read your story of the cherry-coloured
cat. The clergyman with whom I was
educated astonished me when a child,
by saying, when at his living at ——,
he preached in a cherry-coloured gown
and a rose-coloured wig (white.)

AN OLD ONE.

PROPHECY OF LORD BYRON.

In his journal, under the date of January
13, 1821, Lord Byron writes:
“Dined—news come—the powers mean
to war with the people. The intelligence
seems positive—let it be so—they
will be beaten in the end. The King-times
are fast finishing. There will be
blood shed like water, and tears like
mist; but the people will conquer in
the end. I shall not live to see it—but
I foresee it.”

HARDHAM’S 37

Snuff-takers generally, especially the
patrons of Hardham’s 37 will read the
following record of benevolence with
[pg 32]
some gratification:—”In 1772, Mr.
John Hardham, a tobacconist, in London,
a native of Chichester, left by his
will the interest of all his estates to the
guardians of the poor, ‘to ease the inhabitants
in their poor-rates for ever.’
This valuable legacy amounting to 653l.
per annum was subject to the life of the
housekeeper of the testator, so that it
was not till 1786 that it reverted to the
city.”—This is even better than the
plan for snuff-takers paying off the
national debt.

PRESTON, LANCASTER.

Preston is a market-town, borough, and
parish; situated on the river Ribble, in
the hundred of Amounderness, county
palatine of Lancaster. It was incorporated
by Henry II., in 1160; and the
privileges and free customs granted by
this and subsequent royal grants were
confirmed by Charter of 36th Charles II.
The body corporate consists of a mayor,
recorder, seven aldermen, and seventeen
capital burgesses, who, together, form
the common council of the borough.
The mayor, two town-bailiffs, and two
sergeants are elected annually, upon the
Friday preceding the festival of St. Wilfrid,
who was formerly lord of this town;
and they are invested, on the 12th of
October following, by a jury of twenty-four
guild burgesses. The members of
the council, with the exception of the
mayor, retain their seats for life, or
during the pleasure of a majority, and
vacancies are supplied by the remaining
members. The town sends two representatives
to parliament, and affords the
nearest practical example of universal
suffrage in the kingdom—every male
inhabitant, whether housekeeper or
lodger, who has resided six months in
the town, and who has not, during the
last twelve months, been chargeable to
any township as a pauper, having a right
to vote for two candidates at elections.
This principle was established by a decision
of the House of Commons, on an
appeal, in the year 1766, and has ever
since been acted upon. The burgesses
are entitled, by the charter of Henry II.,
to have a GUILD MERCHANT, with the
usual franchises annexed, of safe transit
through the kingdom, exemption from
toll, pontage, and stallage; liberty to
buy and sell peaceably; and power to
hold a guild for the renewal of freedom
to the burgesses, the confirming of by-laws,
and other purposes. This privilege
is still made the occasion of great
festivity. For a long time after their
first institution, the guilds were held at
irregular periods, but they have now,
for more than a century, been uniformly
celebrated every twentieth year, commencing
on the Monday next after the
Decollation of St. John, which generally
happens in the last week of August;
the last was held in 1822, and commenced
on the 22nd of September. The
amusements, which are of great variety,
continue for a fortnight; but, for civic
purposes, the guild books are open for
one entire month. The corporation are
obliged to hold this carnival, on pain of
forfeiting their elective franchises, and
their rights as burgesses. The guild
appears to be of the nature of the ancient
frank-pledge: it is of Saxon origin, and
derived from the word gile, signifying
money, by which certain fraternities
enter into an association, and stipulate
with each other to punish crimes, make
losses good, and acts of restitution proportioned
to offences;—for which purposes,
they raised sums of money among
themselves, forming a common stock;
they likewise endowed chantries for
priests to perform orisons for the defunct.
Fraternities and guilds were,
therefore, in use, long before any formal
licenses were granted to them; though,
at this day, they are a company combined
together, with orders and laws
made by themselves, under sanction of
royal authority. The several trades of
Preston are incorporated; twenty-five
chartered companies go in procession on
the guild festival.

W.G.C.

EPIGRAM.

P.T.

COMPLETION OF VOL. XVI.

WITH THE PRESENT NUMBER

A SUPPLEMENTARY NUMBER,

With a Portrait of the Queen, and a Memoir of
her Majesty; with Title-page, Preface, and
Index to Vol. XVI.

^**^* Books are flocking fast around us. Among
them are Mr. Boaden’s Life of Mrs. Jordan—the
Romance of History—Vols. 13 and 14 of
Lardner’s Cyclopaedia—Dr. Dibdin’s Sunday
Library—Vol 1 of the Cabinet Library—and
three other volumes of the periodical libraries.
Our preference of Moore’s Byron is, we hope,
borne out by its paramount interest.

Footnote 1: (return)

Dent de Jaman.

Footnote 2: (return)

It is interesting to observe the use to which
he afterwards converted these hasty memorandums
in his sublime drama of Manfred:—

It is not noon—the sunbow’s rays still arch

The torrent with the many hues of heaven,

And roll the sheeted silver’s waving column,

O’er the crag’s headlong perpendicular,

And fling its lines of foaming light along,

And to and fro, like the pale courser’s tail,

The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death,

As told in the Apocalypse.

Footnote 3: (return)

Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down

In mountainous o’erwhelming, come and crush me!

I hear ye momently above, beneath,

Crash with a frequent conflict

---

The mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds

Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury,

Like foam from the roused ocean of deep hell!

MANFRED.

Footnote 4: (return)

O’er the savage sea,

The glassy ocean of the mountain ice

We skim its rugged breakers, which put on

The aspect of a tumbling tempest’s foam

Frozen in a moment.

MANFRED.

Footnote 5: (return)

Like these blasted pines,

Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless

MANFRED.

Footnote 6: (return)

Childe Harold, Canto 3.

Footnote 7: (return)

This book was printed at St. Albans in the
year 1486, and afterwards reprinted by Wynkyn
de Worde, in 1496.

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.