lounge into the park,' said he. 'With pleasure,' replied Clarence;
and into the park they lounged. By the way they met a crowd, who
were hurrying a man to prison. The good-hearted Sir Christopher
stopped--'Who is that poor fellow?' said he. 'It is the
celebrated'--(in England all criminals are celebrated. Thurtell was
a hero, Thistlewood a patriot, and Fauntleroy was discovered to be
exactly like Bonaparte)--'it is the celebrated robber, John Jefferies,
who broke into Mrs. Wilson's house, and cut the throats of herself and
her husband, wounded the maid-servant, and split the child's skull
with the poker.' * * * 'John Jefferies!' exclaimed the baronet, 'let
us come away.' 'Linden,' continued Sir Christopher, 'that fellow was
my servant once. He robbed me to some considerable extent. I caught
him. He appealed to my heart, and you know, my dear fellow, that was
irresistible, so I let him off. Who could have thought he would have
turned out so?' And the baronet proceeded to eulogize his own good
nature, by which it is just necessary to remark, that one miscreant
had been saved for a few years from transportation in order to rob and
murder _ad libitum_, and having fulfilled the office of a common pest,
to suffer on the gallows at last. What a fine thing it is to have a
good heart! Both our gentlemen now sunk into a reverie, from which
they were awakened, at the entrance of the park, by a young man in
rags, who, with a piteous tone, supplicated charity. Clarence, who to
his honour be it spoken, spent an allotted and considerable part of
his income in judicious and laborious benevolence, had read a little
of political morals, then beginning to be understood, and walked on.
The good-hearted baronet put his hand in his pocket, and gave the
beggar half-a-guinea, by which a young, strong man, who had only just
commenced the trade, was confirmed in his imposition for the rest of
his life; and instead of the useful support, became the pernicious
incumbrance of society. Sir Christopher had now recovered his spirits.
'What's like a good action?' said he to Clarence, with a swelling
breast. The park was crowded to excess; our loungers were joined by
Lord St. George. His lordship was a staunch Tory. He could not endure
Wilkes, liberty, or general education. He launched out against the
enlightenment of domestics. 'What has made you so bitter?' said Sir
Christopher. 'My valet!' cried Lord St. George; 'he has invented a new
toasting-fork; is going to take out a patent, make his fortune, _and
leave me_; that's what I call ingratitude, Sir Christopher; for I
ordered his wages to be raised five pounds but last year.' 'It _was_
very ungrateful,' said the ironical Clarence. 'Very!' reiterated
the good-hearted Sir Christopher. 'You cannot recommend me a valet,
Findlater,' renewed his lordship; 'a good, honest, sensible fellow,
who can neither read nor write?' 'N--o--o--that is to say, yes! I can;
my old servant, Collard, is out of place, and is as ignorant as--as--'
'I--or you are,' said Lord St. George, with a laugh. 'Precisely,'
replied the baronet. 'Well, then, I take your recommendation: send
him to me to-morrow at twelve.' 'I will,' said Sir Christopher. 'My
dear Findlater,' cried Clarence, when Lord St. George was gone, 'did
you not tell me some time ago, that Collard was a great rascal, and
closely _lie_ with Jefferies? and now you recommend him to Lord St.
George!' 'Hush, hush, hush!' said the baronet; 'he was a great rogue,
to be sure; but poor fellow, he came to me yesterday with tears in his
eyes, and said he should starve if I would not give him a character;
so what could I do?' 'At least, tell Lord St. George the truth,'
observed Clarence. 'But then Lord St. George would not take him!'
rejoined the good-hearted Sir Christopher, with forcible _naiveté_.
'No, no, Linden, we must not be so hard-hearted; we must forgive and
forget;' and so saying, the baronet threw out his chest, with the
conscious exultation of a man who has uttered a noble sentiment. The
moral of this little history is, that Lord St. George, having been
pillaged 'through thick and thin,' as the proverb has it, for two
years, at last missed a gold watch, and Monsieur Collard finished his
career, as his exemplary tutor, Mr. John Jefferies, had done before
him. Ah! what a fine thing it is to have a good heart. But, to return,
just as our wanderers had arrived at the further end of the park, Lady
Westborough and her daughter passed them. Clarence excusing himself to
his friend, hastened towards them, and was soon occupied in saying the
prettiest things in the world to the prettiest person, at least in his
eyes; while Sir Christopher, having done as much mischief as a good
heart well can do in a walk of an hour, returned home to write a long
letter to his mother, against 'learning and all such nonsense, which
only served to blunt the affections and harden the heart.' 'Admirable
young man!' cried the mother, with tears in her eyes; 'a good heart is
better than all the heads in the world.' Amen!"
* * * * *
SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.
QUADRANGLE OF KING'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
In the last _New Monthly Magazine_ is an excellent account of this
splendid structure, in _A Day at Cambridge_,--in which occurs the
following exquisite little descriptive gem:--
With the exception of a gravel walk, running near to the buildings on
every side, the whole ground-plot of this quadrangle is covered by an
unbroken turf, kept, by means of constant and almost hourly attention,
in that exquisite order which is only to be observed in spots devoted
to similar purposes, here and at Oxford. The effect of an unbroken
plot of turf of this kind and quality, and in a situation like this,
is perfectly unique, and perhaps indescribable. It is supposed to be,
and in fact is, for all purposes of preservation and beauty, sacred
from the foot of man or beast; and the feeling arising from this
circumstance, added to the exquisite natural adaptation of the object
itself to the purposes of rest and relief from the almost dazzling
architectural splendour of the surrounding objects, is such as cannot
be communicated by any other means whatever, and we might in vain
attempt to describe. It is of such a kind, however, that those who
are capable of experiencing it, would as soon think of treading upon
the object that conveys it to them, as those who honour Nature would
think of rooting up a nest of violets. Speaking for ourselves alone,
there is but one thing that can disturb and deteriorate the absolute
tranquillity of mind, and peace of heart, which fall upon us, like
dew from heaven, on entering a place like that we have attempted to
describe above; it is, to see a capped and gowned Fellow, profaning
with his footsteps the floor of that, in some sort, sacred temple,
merely because he can, by so doing, reach his habitation by a few
footsteps less than if he kept to the path allotted for him. We look
upon the act as a species of impiety; to say nothing of its proving,
to a demonstration, that the person who commits it is either utterly
insensible to the mysterious harmony that subsists between a certain
class of natural objects and the heart of man; or utterly disregards
that harmony, and sets it at naught. He is, in fact, one of whom it
may in one sense be said, that
"He hath no music in his soul."
And we are almost tempted to complete the quotation, by adding--
"Let no such man be trusted!"
* * * * *
A RUSTIC PAIR.
_By Miss Mitford_.
Few damsels of twelve years old, generally a very pretty age, were
less pretty that Hannah Bint. Short and stunted in her figure, thin
in face, sharp in feature, with a muddled complexion, wild sun-burnt
hair, and eyes, whose very brightness had in them something startling,
over-informed, super-subtle, too clever for her age. At twelve years
old she had quite the air of a little old fairy. Now, at seventeen,
matters are mended. Her complexion has cleared; her countenance, her
figure, has shot up into height and brightness, and a sort of rustic
grace; her bright, acute eye is softened and sweetened by the womanly
wish to please; her hair is trimmed, and curled, and brushed with
exquisite neatness; and her whole dress arranged with that nice
attention to the becoming, the suitable both in form and texture,
which would be called the highest degree of coquetry, if it
did not deserve the better name of propriety. Never was such a
transmogrification beheld. The lass is really pretty, and Ned Miles
has discovered that she is so. There he stands, the rogue, close at
her aide, (for he hath joined her whilst we have been telling her
little story, and the milking is over!)--there he stands--holding her
milk-pail in one hand, and stroking Watch with the other; whilst she
is returning the compliment, by patting Neptune's magnificent head.
There they stand, as much like lovers as may be; he smiling, and she
blushing--he never looking so handsome, nor she so pretty, in all
their lives. There they stand, in blessed forgetfulness of all except
each other--as happy a couple as ever trod the earth. There they
stand, and one would not disturb them for all the milk and butter in
Christendom. I should not wonder if they were fixing the wedding-day.
* * * * *
RECOLLECTIONS OF A R*T.
_(Concluded from page 365.)_
Finding a detachment just setting out to join the Grand Allied Army, I
thought, as a true Briton, I could do no less than accompany it, and
prevailed upon all our party to do the same.
The detachment with which I marched, consisted of 80,000. As we had
little baggage, having crossed the Rhine, we proceeded rapidly through
a dull, uninteresting country.
The town of Coblentz is situated at the junction of the Rhine
and the Moselle. Here the majestic Rhine gently flows along in
all its grandeur, separating the town from the noble fortress of
Ehrenbreitstein.[1] I crossed over the bridge of boats, and made
a most minute inspection of this very romantic castle, which gave
me great pleasure indeed. In a few days I availed myself of a
passage-boat which was going to Mayence, and was quite enraptured with
the view on all sides. Rhenish wines, and perhaps also the water,
I found did not well agree with my stomach; and no inconsiderable
annoyance, I soon experienced. They seemed, however, to have exactly
the same effect upon every Englishman I saw, so I was not singular. A
little brandy soon, however, put me all to rights; and by the time I
reached Strasbourg, I was perfectly well again, and able to do ample
justice to her Splendid Pies! I attended high mass in the great
Cathedral of Strasbourg, and was surprised and pleased at the sight
of 10,000 soldiers, in review order, drawn up within its walls. It
was tiresome enough work mounting to the top of the spire, (which
I ascertained, by the steps I took, to be exactly 490 feet high,
Strasbourg measure; and this is exactly eight feet higher than St.
Peter's at Rome), but I made it out, notwithstanding the sulky looks
of the jackanapes who lives at the top. Nothing can surpass the beauty
of the view from this cathedral. At your feet you have the ancient
town, with all its regular fortifications and outworks--the majestic
Rhine, with its bridge of boats, and ruined Gothic bridge, sublime in
its decay--and as far as the eye can reach you have an exceedingly
rich country, everywhere speckled with towns, and fertilized by
luxuriant streams.
[1] Apropos--our _Supplement_ contains a fine Engraving of this
very spot.
I made a point of visiting my venerable friend, the old Comte de
Strasbourg, who, unchanged in the rolling on of centuries, lies in his
glass coffin, to all appearance in the same freshness of health and
vigour in which, when myself a very young man, I saw him many hundred
years ago;[1] his countess, his son, and his daughter, keep him
company, each in their separate place of repose. Alas, alas! the sight
made me weep.
[1] The venerable count died about the year 1519. The glass
coffins are still shown.
A few days afterwards, I was rather unexpectedly stopped in my tour.
For a night I had taken up my residence in the carriage of a young
Englishman, who that day arrived from Rome, the hostler having assured
me that he would remain for some time. I did so, as I found it much
quieter and cooler than the hotel "La ville de Lyon," which was
overcrowded. In the morning, I thought my friends were merely going a
short drive, so I kept my seat. We, however, travelled on till night,
when I heard we were bound for London; but as my companions were very
agreeable, I thought I might as well accompany them the whole way.
They seemed to be annoyed at every posthouse with their passports,
&c.; I was never even asked about the matter. The custom-house gentry,
in their searches, to be sure, occasionally gave me a little trouble,
but I was soon up to their tricks. We had an avant-courier constantly
galloping before us, and we travelled with such expedition that we
reached London in five days; for my fellow-travellers were idle young
men of fortune, who are of course always in the greatest hurry for the
end of a journey, because they don't know what to make of themselves
when it is over.
I had not then an opportunity of seeing Paris, as we only changed
horses in it. I have since, however, spent many months there, and have
always been very much pleased with every thing I saw, particularly the
Catacombs, which were my favourite lounge. When last in Paris, I made
a narrow escape with my life, as I tumbled headlong into a cask of
brandy. I, however, managed to scramble out, with the assistance of a
bit of cord, which happened to be hanging over its side, and which my
friend pushed in to me. I was little the worse of my ducking; for, as
soon as I got out, I was set a-laughing by his telling me how to spell
_brandy_, in both French and English, in three letters, viz. "B.R. and
Y." and "O.D.V."
In London I made a point, as a stranger, of going everywhere, and was
certainly much delighted with every thing. I must confess, however,
that I thought all the acting at the Opera and Theatres, and all the
eloquence of the Houses of Parliament, as nothing in comparison of
what I saw and tasted at the East India and London Docks. When I
was in the House of Lords, a companion whispered to me, that he had
heard an act read, offering a reward of 10,000_l._ for a _male_
tortoise-shell cat. This I believe, indeed, is a very safe offer, for
such a thing was never heard of. And it is certainly as much worth
their while as making an act that I should never have more than six
dishes of meat at my dinner, or that I should not be buried in linen
above twenty shillings Scots value per ell, although I wished it
particularly, and could well afford to pay for it. There was, however,
one restrictive act, which had sense in it; and the husbands of the
present day would, I dare say, give their ears that it were still in
force, whatever the dressmakers might think of it. But many of their
acts of Parliament are silly enough--as they must be; for they don't
like to be thought idle, and imagine that it is necessary to be always
enacting something.
It is curious, indeed, how fashion should be every thing in the great
city. A lady could not possibly venture to see her dearest friend on
earth, or even her own sister, if she happened to live in rather an
unfashionable part of the town. By so doing, she would expose herself
to her own footmen, who very properly would lose all respect for her,
and I suppose instantly leave her service, as, poor fellows, they have
a rank in life to keep up!! John Bull certainly gives himself many
airs, to say the least of it. After receiving the greatest kindness
and hospitality from you in Scotland, and perhaps staying for months
in your house, he will cut you dead in London. I remember once meeting
with such a return, but took it, of course, very coolly. Next day,
when I was arm in arm with ---- ----, I happened again to meet my
quondam friend, who immediately rushed up to me--I, however, turned
on my tail, and did not know him.--Fashion is an odd thing after all.
It is not rank which will do. I have seen many a spendthrift young
commoner cut his uncle the duke; and being a duchess by no means
will ensure admittance at Almack's.--I thank my stars, I am not
fashionable, and am always happy to see my friends!
I was persuaded, soon after reaching London, to go down to Essex for
a few days, to pay a visit to an old friend. When I arrived at his
house, which I think they called Waltham Abbey, I was sorry to receive
the melancholy accounts that he had been devoured, and that, if I did
not instantly take myself off, I should be dealt with in the same
manner. The truth was, that a famine had arisen; and it is well known,
on those occasions, as necessity has no law, that the stronger kills
the weaker. Day after day the combat is renewed, till at last all
except one are destroyed, and he is then obliged to decamp, or eat
himself up, as he likes best. It is in this way that castles, houses,
&c. which have been long infested by us, are so suddenly entirely
freed from our presence.
I amused myself in making an excursion to Epping Forest, till I
thought the civil war at my late friend's habitation might have
proceeded far enough for my presence to be useful. In the forest,
one day, I had the luck to kill one of those troublesome reptiles--a
Tom Cat. I believe, however, it was a house one. After a hard day's
hunting his highness made too free at a Valerian party. I watched my
opportunity, and soon put an effectual end to his caterwauling. When
I returned to the abbey, I found I was in the best possible time--the
garrison being reduced to about a dozen, and they so weakened and
tired out with the constant worrying work they had had, that I was
myself a complete match for any two of them. In a few days the number
was only four, and in other two days I was sole lord and master.
[He then returns to town.]
At a friend's house, in Berkeley Square, where I met a distinguished
party, a scene took place, just such as Pope describes--
Our courtier walks from dish to dish;
Tastes, for his friend, of fowl and fish:
"That jelly's rich, that malmsey's healing,
Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in."
Was ever such a happy swain?
He stuffs, and swills, and stuffs again.
"I'm quite ashamed--'Tis mighty rude
To eat so much; but all's so good!
I have a thousand thanks to give,
My lord alone knows how to live."--
No sooner said, but from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all:
"A r--t, a r--t! clap to the door!"--
I, however, made good my exit, and was nothing the worse of a
practical warning to be more cautious in future.
It would be endless for me to describe all my after voyages and
travels. Suffice it to say, I have been both east and west, north
and south; and there is scarcely a part of the habitable globe which
I have not visited. After all, I have come to this conclusion, that
there is no country like Britain. Oh! how I could wish my human
existence had been in such happy times and under such glorious
sovereigns as a George the Third, and George the Fourth!!!
For some years I have remained in this country, enjoying (like a
patriarch of old) a quiet, regular life with my family, which now
amounts to above 2,000. I, however, keep very much to my own room,
as I hate bustle, and like to enjoy my own reflections.
The age to which our species can exist is not ascertained, as never
one of us was known to die in his bed, at least a natural death. A
kind of instinct I have always had, has as yet saved me from arsenic,
stewed corks, traps, stamps, &c.; and my great strength, and a
good deal of science, which is of more consequence, have, as yet,
preserved me in many a deadly combat, both with my own species, and
with the dog, the ferret, the weasel, the hawk, and that green-eyed
monster--the cat. But I am now getting somewhat stiffer, and am not
so sharp as I was. I am not--
"--qualis eram, quum primam aciem Præneste sub ipsa
Stravi, scutorumque incendi victor acervos;
Et regem hâc Herilum dextrâ sub Tartara misi!!"
And in some evil hour my time must come.
--I am well aware, indeed, of the fleeting existence even of this
world itself, for I studied astronomy with the celebrated M. Olbers
of Bremen, and assisted him in making many useful observations and
discoveries, particularly regarding comets, in the course of which
we came to this melancholy conclusion, that the comet which was
afterwards visible in 1786 and 1795, will, in 83,000 years, approach
the earth as nearly as the moon; and that in 4,000,000 years it
will come to within a distance of 7,700 geographical miles;--the
consequence of which will be (if its attraction be equal to that of
the earth) the elevation of the waters of the ocean 13,000 feet; that
is to say, above the tops of all the European mountains, except Mount
Blanc. The inhabitants of the Andes and of the Himalaya mountains
alone will escape this second deluge; but they will not benefit by
their good fortune more than 216,000,000 years, for it is probable,
that at the expiration of that time, our globe standing right in the
way of the comet, will receive a shock severe enough to ensure its
utter destruction!!!
_Note._--After reading over the above MS., I am inclined to come to
this conclusion--that our historian, while in a human form, must have
been a Scottish nobleman--that he probably was born about the year
1501--and that he lived to about the age of 89.--_Ed._
* * * * *
THE FANCY BALL.
"A visor for a visor! what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities!"
SHAKSPEARE.
"You used to talk," said Miss Mac Call,
"Of flowers, and flames, and Cupid;
But now you never talk at all.
You're getting vastly stupid.
You'd better burn your Blackstone, Sir,
You never will get through it;
There's a Fancy Ball at Winchester--
Do let us take you to it."
I made that night a solemn vow,
To startle all beholders:
I wore white muslin on my brow,
Green velvet on my shoulders--
My trousers were supremely wide,
I learn'd to swear "by Allah"--
I stuck a poniard by my side,
And called myself "Abdallah."
Oh! a Fancy Ball's a strange affair,
Made up of silks and leathers,
Light heads, light heels, false hearts, false hair,
Pins, paint, and ostrich feathers:
The dullest Duke in all the town,
To-night may shine a droll one--
And rakes, who have not half-a-crown,
Look royal with a whole one.
Hail, blest Confusion! here are met
All tongues, and times, and faces,
The Lancers flirt with Juliet,
The Bramin talks of races;
And where's your genius, bright Corinne?
And where your brogue, Sir Lucius?
And Chinca Ti, you have not seen
One chapter of Confucius.
Lo! dandies from Kamschatka flirt
With beauties from the Wrekin--
And belles from Berne look very pert
On Mandarins from Pekin;
The Cardinal is here from Rome,
The Commandant from Seville--
And Hamlet's father from the tomb,
And Faustus from the Devil.
What mean those laughing Nuns, I pray,
What mean they, Nun or Fairy:
I guess they told no beads to-day,
And sang no Ave Mary.
From Mass and Matins, Priest and Pix,
Barred door, and window grated,
I wish all pretty Catholics
Were thus emancipated.
Four Seasons come to dance quadrilles,
With four well-seasoned sailors--
And Raleigh talks of rail-road bills,
With Timon, prince of railers.
I find Sir Charles of Aubyn Park
Equipp'd for a walk to Mecca--
And I run away from Joan of Arc,
To romp with sad Rebecca.
Fair Cleopatra's very plain,
Puck halts, and Ariel swaggers--
And Cæsar's murder'd o'er again,
Though not by Roman daggers.
Great Charlemagne is four feet high--
Sad Stuff has Bacon spoken--
Queen Mary's waist is all awry,
And Psyche's nose is broken.
Our happiest bride, how very odd!
Is the mourning Isabella,
And the heaviest foot that ever trod
Is the foot of Cinderella.
Here sad Calista laughs outright,
There Yorick looks most grave, Sir,
And a Templar waves the cross to-night,
Who never cross'd the wave, Sir.
And what a Babel is the talk!
"The Giraffe"--"plays the fiddle"--
"Macadam's roads"--"I hate this chalk"--
"Sweet girl"--"a charming riddle"--
"I'm nearly drunk with"--"Epsom salts"--
"Yes, separate beds"--"such cronies!"--
"Good heaven! who taught that man to valtz?"--
"A pair of Shetland ponies."
"Lord D----" "an enchanting shape"--
"Will move for"--"Maraschino"
"Pray, Julia, how's your mother's ape?"--
"He died at Navarino!"
"The gout, by Jove, is"--"apple pie"--
"Don Miguel"--"Tom the tinker"--
"His Lordship's pedigree's as high
As ----" "Whipcord, dam by Clinker."
"Love's shafts are weak"--"my chestnut kicks"--
"Heart broken;"--"broke the traces"--
"What say you now of politics?"--
"Change sides and to your places"--
"A five-barred gate"--"a precious pearl"
"Grave things may all be punn'd on!"--
"The Whigs, thank God, are"--"out of curl!"--
"Her age is"--"four by London!"
Thus run the giddy hours away,
Till morning's light is beaming,
And we must go to dream by day
All we to-night are dreaming;
To smile and sigh, to love and change--
Oh! in our heart's recesses,
We dress in fancies quite as strange
As these our fancy-dresses.
_New Monthly Magazine_.
* * * * *
THE GATHERER.
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles
SHAKSPEARE.
Tho' lang an lonely be the road
Between me an my dearie;
Yet I the gate hae aften troad,
When I've been tired and wearie.
Be't stormin rain, hail, win or snaw--
A lonely road and drearie--
There's nought wad e'er keep me awa
Frae gaun to see my dearie!!!
M.
* * * * *
FRENCH BALL CONVERSATION.