[WILLIAM HABINGTON, born 1605, died 1654.]
When I survey the bright
Celestial sphere:
So rich with jewels hung, that night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear.
My soul her wings doth spread,
And Heaven-ward flies,
The Almighty’s mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.
For the bright firmament
Shoots forth no flame
So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator’s name.
No unregarded star
Contracts its light
Into so small a character
Remov’d far from our humane sight:
But if we steadfast look,
We shall discern
In it, as in some holy book,
How man may heavenly knowledge learn.
Thus those celestial fires,
Though seeming mute,
The fallacy of our desires
And all the pride of life confute.
For they have watched since first
The world had birth;
And found sin in itself accurst,
And nothing permanent on earth.
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Mr. Scott, of Exeter, travelled on business till about eighty years of
age. He was one of the most celebrated characters in the kingdom for
punctuality, and by his methodical conduct, joined to uniform diligence,
he gradually amassed a large fortune. For a long series of years, the
proprietors of every inn he frequented in Devon and Cornwall knew the
day and the very hour he would arrive. A short time before he died, a
gentleman on a journey in Cornwall stopped at a small inn at Port Isaac
to dine. The waiter presented him with a bill of fare, which he did not
approve of, but observing a fine duck roasting, “I’ll have that,” said
the traveller. “You cannot, sir,” said the landlord, “it is for Mr.
Scott of Exeter.” “I know Mr. Scott very well,” rejoined the gentleman,
“he is not in your house.” “True, sir,” said the landlord, “but _six
months ago, when he was here last, he ordered a duck_ to be ready for
him this day, precisely at two o’clock;” and to the astonishment of the
traveller, he saw the old gentleman jogging into the inn-yard about five
minutes before the appointed time.
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When Lord Nelson was leaving London, on his last but glorious expedition
against the enemy, a quantity of cabin furniture was ordered to be sent
on board his ship. He had a farewell dinner-party at his house; and the
upholsterer having waited upon his lordship, with an account of the
completion of the goods, was brought into the eating-room, in a corner
of which his lordship spoke with him. The upholsterer stated to his
noble employer, that everything was finished and packed, and would go in
the waggon, from a certain inn, at _six_ o’clock. “And you go to the
inn, Mr. A., and see them off?” “I shall, my Lord; I shall be there
_punctually at six_.” “_A quarter before six_, Mr. A. (returned Lord
Nelson), be there _a quarter before six_. To that _quarter of an hour_ I
owe everything in life.”
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Dr. Fowler, bishop of Gloucester, in the early part of the eighteenth
century, was a believer in apparitions. The following conversation of
the bishop with Judge Powell is recorded:--
“Since I saw you,” said the lawyer, “I have had ocular demonstration of
the existence of nocturnal apparitions.”
“I am glad you are become a convert to truth; but do you say actual
ocular demonstration? Let me know the particulars of the story.”
“My lord, I will. It was, let me see, last Thursday night, between the
hours of eleven and twelve, but nearer the latter than the former, as I
lay sleeping in my bed, I was suddenly awakened by an uncommon noise,
and heard something coming up stairs and stalking directly towards my
room; the door flying open, I drew back my curtain, and saw a faint
glimmering light enter my chamber.”
“Of a blue colour no doubt.”
“The light was of a pale blue, my lord, and followed by a tall meagre
personage, his locks hoary with age, and clothed in a long loose gown, a
leathern girdle was about his loins, his beard thick and grizly, a large
fur cap on his head, and a long staff in his hand. Struck with
astonishment, I remained for some time motionless and silent; the figure
advanced, staring me full in the face: I then said, Whence, and what art
thou?”
“What was the answer--tell me--what was the answer?”
“The following was the answer I received:--‘I am watchman of the night,
an’t please your honour, and made bold to come up stairs to inform the
family of their street door being open, and that if it was not soon
shut, they would probably be robbed before morning.’”
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Only the nation which invented ‘comfort’ was capable of conceiving ‘good
temper,’ for ‘good temper’ is to the moral what ‘comfort’ is to the
physical man. It is the most contented, the most _comfortable_ state of
the soul; the greatest happiness both for those who possess it, and for
those who feel its influence. Perhaps it is found in perfection in woman
alone; for it is rather a passive than an active quality: and yet we
must by no means confound it with mere apathy, which is either tedious,
or exasperates one’s anger and contempt; whereas ‘good temper’ soothes
and tranquillizes all who approach it. It is a truly kind, loving, and
cheerful principle; mild and balmy as a cloudless May-day. With
‘gentleness’ in his own character, ‘comfort’ in his house, and ‘good
temper’ in his wife, the earthly felicity of man is complete.--_Tour of
a German Prince._
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