finances ere long put an end to the fashionableness of his acquaintance. He paid all the penalties of a spendthrift, and was steeped in poverty to the very lips. At one time he was driven for a morsel of bread to enlist as a private in the British army; and, at another time, in a similar exigency he went into the French service. From a more cogent motive than piety, he afterwards entered into a French monastery, and lived there till the term af his noviciate expired. He returned to Britain, and took service wherever he could get it; but in all these dips into low life, he was never in the least embarrassed when he met with any of his old acquaintance. A wealthy divine who had known him in the best London society, recognized him when a waiter at Swansea, actually tripping about with the napkin under his arm, and staring at him, exclaimed, "You cannot be Combe?" "Yes, indeed, but I am," was the waiter's He married the mistress of a noble lord, who promised him an annuity with her, but cheated him; and in revenge he wrote a spirited satire, entitled "The Diaboliad." Among its subjects were an Irish peer and his eldest son, who had a quarrel that extinguished any little natural affection that might have ever subsisted between them. The father challenged the son to fight; the son refused to go out with him, not, as he expressly stated, because the challenger was his own father, but because he was not a gentleman. answer. After his first wife's death, Mr. Combe made a more creditable marriage with a sister of Mr. Cosway, the artist, and much of the distress which his imprudence entailed upon him was mitigated by the assiduity of this amiable woman. For many years he subsisted by writing for the booksellers, with a reputation that might be known to many individuals, but that certainly was not public. He wrote a work which was generally ascribed to the good Lord Lyttleton, entitled "Letters from a Nobleman to his Son," and "Letters from an Italian Nun to an English Nobleman," that professed to be translated from Rousseau. He published also several political tracts, that were trashy, time-serving and scurrilous. Pecuniary difficulties brought him to a permanent residence in the King's Bench, where he continued for about twenty years, and for the latter, part of them a voluntary inmate. One of his friends offered to effect a compromise with his creditors, but he refused the favour. "If I compounded with my creditors," said Mr. Combe, "I should be obliged to sacrifice the little substance which I possess, and on which I subsist in prison. These chambers, the best in the Bench, are mine at the rent of a few shillings a week, in right of my seniority as a prisoner. My habits are become so sedentary, that if I lived in the airiest Square of London, I should not walk round it once in a month. I am contented in my cheap quarters." When he was near the age of seventy, he had some literary dealings with Mr. Ackermann, the bookseller. The late caricaturist, Rowlandson, had offered to Mr. Ackermann a number of drawings representing an old clergyman and school-master, who felt, or fancied himself, in love with the fine arts, quixottically travelling during his holidays in search of the picturesque. As the drawings needed the explanation of letter-press, Mr. Ackermann declined to purchase them unless he should find some one who could give them a poetical illustration. He carried one or two of them to Mr. Combe, who undertook the subject. The bookseller, knowing his procrastinating temper, left him but one drawing at a time, which he illustrated in verse, without knowing the subject of the drawing that was next to come. The popularity of the "Adventures of Dr. Syntax," induced Mr. Ackermann afterwards to employ him in two successful publications, "The Dance of Life," and "The Dance of Death," in England, which were also accompanied by Rowlandson's designs. It was almost half a century before the appearance of these works, that Mr. Combe so narrowly missed the honour of being Mrs. Siddons's reading - master. He had exchanged the gaieties of London for quarters at a tap-room in Wolverhampton, where he was billeted as a soldier in the service of his Britannic Majesty. He had a bad foot at the time, and was limping painfully along the high street of the town, when he was met by an acquaintance who had known him in all his fashionable glory. This individual had himself seen better days, having exchanged a sub-lieutenancy of marines for a strollership in Mr. Kemble's company. "Heavens!" said the astonished histrion; "is it possible, Combe, that you can bear this condition?" "Fiddlesticks!" answered the ex-duke, taking a pinch of snuff, " a philosopher can bear anything." The player ere long introduced him to Mr. Roger Kemble; but, by this time, Mr. Combe had become known in the place through his conversational talents. A gentleman passing through the public-house had observed him reading, and looking over his shoulder, saw, with surprise, a copy of Horace. "What!" said he, "my friend, can you read that book in the original?" If I cannot," replied Combe, "a great deal of money has been thrown away on my education." His landlord soon found the literary red-coat an attractive ornament to his tap-room, which was filled every night with the wondering auditors of the learned soldier. They treated him to gratuitous potations, and clubbed their money to procure his discharge. Roger Kemble gave him a benefit night at the theatre, and Combe promised to speak an address on the occasion. In this address, he noticed the various conjectures that had been circulated respecting his real name and character; and after concluding the enumeration, he said, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, I shall tell you what I am." While expec tation was all agog, he added, "I am-ladies and gen- SPECIMENS OF CELEBRATED AUTHORS. MONTAIGNE. His Account of an Accident which befell him. The present extract is a remarkable evidence of the "In the time of our third or second troubles, (I do out to make use of this horse in a kind of service that Perche dubbiosa anchor del suo ritorno, The remembrance of this accident, which is very well imprinted on my memory, so materially representing to me the image and idea of death, has in some sort reconciled me to that untoward accident. When I first began to open my eyes after my trance, it was with so perplexed, so weak and dead a sight, that I could yet distinguish nothing, and could only discern the light, Come quel ch'or apre, or chiude As people in the morning, when they rise As to the functions of the soul, they advanced with pified at the approaches of their end, or deprest with (Vi morbi sæpe coactus 1 (By the disease compelled, so we see some Or hurt in the head whom we hear to mutter, and by fits to utter grievous groans, though we gather from thence some sign by which it seems as if they had some remains of sense and knowledge,-I have always believed I say both the body and the soul benumbed, and asleep; Vivit, et est vitæ nescius ipse suæ. Ovid. Tristia. Book i., Elag. 3.- and could not believe that in so great a stupefaction Hunc ego Diti I, by command, offer to Pluto this, Both the interrupted words and the short and irregular answers one gets from them sometimes, by bawling and keeping a clutter about them, or the motions which seem to yield some consent to what we would have them do, are no testimony nevertheless that they live an entire life at least. So it happens that in the yawning of sleep, before it has fully possessed us, as to perceive, as in a dream, what is done about us, and to follow, the last things are said with a perplexed and uncertain bearing, which seem but to touch upon the borders of the soul, and make answers to the last words have been spoken to us, which have more in them of fortune than of sense. Now, seeing I have effectually tried it, I make no doubt I have hitherto made a right judgment. For, first, being in a swoon, I laboured with both hands to rip open the buttons of my doublet, (for I was without arms,) and yet I felt nothing in my magination that hurt me; for we have Semianimes que micant digiti, ferrum que retractant. So falling people extend their arms before them by How limbs scythe-bearing chariots lopt (they tell,) My stomach was so oppressed with the coagulated Ut tandem sensus convaluere mei, As my lost senses did to me return, which was two or three hours after, I felt myself on a sudden involved in terrible pain, having my limbs shattered and ground to pieces with my fall, and was so exceedingly ill two or three nights after, that I thought once more to die again, but a more painful death, having concluded myself as good as dead before, But and to this hour am sensible of the bruizes of that terrible shock. I will not here omit, that the last thing I could make them beat into my head, was the memory of this accident, and made it be over and over again repeated to me whither I was going, from whence I came, and at what time of the day this mischance befell me, before I could comprehend it. As to the manner of my fall, that was concealed from me in favour to him who had been the occasion, and other flim-flams were invented to palliate the truth. a long time after, and the very next day that my memory began to return and to represent to me the state wherein I was, at the instant I perceived this horse coming full drive upon me (for I had seen him come thundering at my heels, aud gave myself for gone: but this thought had been so sudden that fear had no leisure to introduce itself), it seemed to be like a flash of lightning that had pierced through my soul, and that I came from the other world. This long story, of so light an accident, would appear vain enough, were it not for the knowledge I have gained by it for my own use; for I do really find, that to be acquainted with death, is no more but nearly to approach it. Every one, as Pliny says, is a good doctor to himself, provided he be capable of discovering himself near at hand. This is not my doctrine; 'tis my study; and is not the lesson of another, but my own, and yet if I communicate it, it ought not to be ill taken. That which is of use to me, may also peradventure be useful to another. These translations of the verses, admirable for the most part, are by Charles Cotton, . 1 MRS. SIDDONS. A life of Mrs. Siddons by Mr. Campbell the poet woman. Mrs. Siddons's refinement was not on a par with her by her enemies, if any such persons remain. We are It represented as living apart from his wife (when he did so) for any other reason than the true one; which turns out to have been a mere matter of necessity to both parties, to himself, because of a rheumatism with I which he was afflicted, and which forced him to live at Bath for the benefit of the waters, while Mrs. Siddons, for obvious reasons, was obliged to remain in town They saw each other when they could, and were affectionate and content. Would it have been better that they should have been more sick and less happy? We quote with pleasure below some verses addressed by Mr. Siddons to his wife, at the very period of his going to sojourn at Bath; an evidence of the real state of the case, which Mr. Campbell justly adduces as throwing ridicule on the false reports of it. We think he might. have added a good word in favour of the verses themselves, which are very agreeable, especially the last stanza; and we are surprised that he could find nothing better to say for the verses by Mrs. Siddons, than to give them a specimer of her "moderate talent for versification." We think them highly creditable to her, and even affecting. There is more "womanhood" in the last stanza, than in the greatness of her acting. But we are keeping the reader from the book. We must add, that Mrs. Siddons appears to have been a good letter-writer, of a certain class; and to have studied composition more than is common in her profession, or than any body supposed. Mrs. Siddons's Recollections of Dr. Johnson. "I do not exactly remember the time that I was favoured with an invitation from Dr. Johnson, but I think it was during the first year of my celebrity. The Doctor was then a wretched invalid, and had requested my friend Mr. Windham to persuade me to favour him by drinking tea with him in Bolt Court. The Doctor spoke highly of Garrick's various powers of acting. When Mr. Windham and myself were discussing some point respecting Garrick, he said, 'Madam, do not trouble yourself to convince Windham, he is the very bull-dog of argument, and will not loose his hold.' Dr. Johnson's favourite female character in Shakspear, was Catherine in "Henry VIII." He was most desirous of seeing me in that play, but said, 'I am too deaf and too blind to see or hear at a greater distance than the stage-box, and have little taste for making myself a public gaze in so distinguished a situation.' I assured him that nothing would gratify me so much as to have him for an auditor, aud that I could procure for him an easy chair at the stage-door, where he could both see and hear, and be perfectly concealed. He appeared greatly pleased with this arrangement, but unhappily for me, did not live to fulfil our mutual wishes. Some weeks before he died, I made him some morning visits. He was extremely, though formally, polite; always apologized for being unable to attend me to my carriage, conducted me to the head of the stairs, kissed my hand, and bowing, said, 'Dear Madam, I am your most humble servant;' and these words were always repeated without the smallest variation." Reservation of Scottish Praise. How much more pleasantly (says Mr. Campbell,) people tell their history in social converse than in formal writing. I remember Mrs. Siddons describing to me the same scene of her probation upon the Edinburgh boards with no small humour. The grave attention of my Scottish countrymen, and their canny reservation of praise till they were sure she deserved it, she said, had well nigh worn out her patience. She had been used to speak to animated clay, but she now felt as if she had been speaking to stones. Successive flashes of her elocution that had always been sure to electrify the South, fell in vain on those Northern flints. At last, as I well remember, she told me she coiled up her powers to the most emphatic possible utterance of one passage, having previously vowed in her heart, that, if this could not touch the Scotch, she would never again cross the Tweed. When it was finished, she paused, and looked to the audience. The deep silence was broken only by a single voice, exclaiming, "That,s no bad." This ludicrous parsimony of praise convulsed the Edinburgh audience with laughter. But the laugh was followed by such thunders of applause, that, amidst her stunned and nervous agitation, she was not without fears of the galleries coming down. VERSES BY MR. SIDDONS ON HIS WIFE'S COTTAGE Would you I'd Westbourn Farm describe,. A thing so pretty and so small, Now pray be cautious when you enter, And curb your strides from much expansion; Three paces take you to the centre, Three more, you're close against the mansion. The mansion, cottage, house, or hut, Call't what you will, has room within To lodge the king of Lilliput, But not his court, nor yet his ueen. The kitchen-garden, true to keeping, Has length, and breadth, and width so plenty, A snail, if fairly set a creeping, Could scarce go round while you told twenty. Perhaps you'll cry on hearing this, What! everything so very small? No, she that made it what it is, Has greatness, that makes up for all LINES BY MRS. SIDDONS. Say, what's the brightest wreath of fame, Then haply at religion's shrine This weary heart its load shall lay, And passion melt in tears away. Stage Habit.-Grandiosity of Manner. "From intense devotion to her profession, Mrs. Siddons derived a peculiarity of manner, of which I have the fullest belief she was not in the least conscious, unless reminded of it; I mean the habit of attaching dramatic tones and emphasis to common-place colloquial subjects. She went, for instance, one day, into a shop at Bath, and after bargaining for some calico, and hearing the mercer pour forth an hundred commendations of the cloth, she put the question to him, "But will it wash?” in a manner so electrifying as to make the poor shopman start back from his counter. I once told her this anecdote about herself, and she laughed at it heartily, saying, "Witness truth, I never meant to be tragical." This singularity made her manner susceptible of caricature. I know not what others felt, but I own that I loved her all the better for this unconscious solemnity of manner; for, independently of its being blended with habitual kindness to her friends, and giving, odd as it may seem, a zest to the. humour of her familiar conversation, it always struck me as a token of her simplicity. In point of fact, a manner in itself artificial, sorung out of the naïveté of her character." We need not bear testimony to the observation of nature, in which this last remark of the biographer is founded. And we have no doubt there is truth in the application of it to his heroine. But nature and art were so mixed up in her by the circumstances of her early life, that it is impossible to say how much of one or the other was more essentially her own. Perhaps, after all, the best and most extraordinary thing to be said of her, is that she left the impression she has upon the mind of an intimate acquaintance like Mr. Campbell. CRICKET AND A FETE CHAMPETRE BY MR. NYREN. We have much pleasure in laying before our readers the following brief, but genuine record, of an entertainment after a cricket-match, with which we have been favoured by our old, or rather ever-young friend, Mr." Nyren, the "Cricketer's Tutor." He calls it a rough sketch," and modestly hints that we may re-cast it. We should as soon think of altering his cricket-bat. There is a right handling in it, and relishing hits. We need not point out to the reader the regard which our veteran cricketer naturally retains for the ladies; nor his pleasant vindication of himself from the charge of being "seventy." As to the close of his fourth paragraph, where he speaks of the descending of the dews, Burns himself might have written it. The mixture of warmth and coolness was never more happily touched; nor the fair picture better intimated, under the darkening contrast of the twilight. This is the way. that cricketers write,-O ye describers who grow sickly in doors! They feel substance and spirit at once, the body of beauty, and the breath of heaven. To the Editor of the London Journal. a rough sketch. I call these gentlemen the wise men of the East," 'as they will not suffer their names in print, and they live at the East-end of London. When we arrived at the place of our destination, I was both surprised and delighted at the beautiful scene which lay before me. Several elegant tents, gracefully decked out with flags and festoons of flowers, had been fitted up for the convenience of the ladies; and many of these, very many, were elegant and beautiful I am not seventy; and women. "the power of beauty I remember yet." (I am only sixty-eight!) Seats were placed beneath the wide spreading oaks, so as to form groups in the shade. Beyond these, were targets for ladies who love archery, the cricket-ground in front. The carriages poured in rapidly, and each party as they entered the ground, was received with loud cheers by such of their friends as had arrived before them. At this time a band of music entered the ground, and I could perceive the ladies feathers gracefully waving to the music, and quite ready for dancing. However, the band gave us that fine old tune, The roast beef of old England. We entered a large booth, which accommodated all our party, and a hundred and thirty sat down to the déjeûné. Our chairman was Young, but old in experience. Many excellent speeches were made; and ever and anon, the whole place rang with applause. After this the dancing commenced, quadrilles, gallopade, &c. &c. It was, without exception, the most splendid sight that I ever witnessed, and reminded one far more of the descriptions we read of fairy-land, than of any scene in real life. The dancing was kept up with great spirit, till the dew of heaven softly descended on the bosoms of our fair countrywomen. Not a single unfortunate occurrence happened to damp the pleasure of this delightful party. Had you been with us, you would have sung "Oh, the pleasures of the plains," &c. &c. How is it, that we have so few of these parties? Can any party in a house compare with it? God bless you and yours, JOHN NYREN. P.S. The cricket match was well contested, the Bachelors winning by three runs only. The married men might be content to endure so honourable a defeat, especially if their wives were among these ladies, ready at hand to take pity on them. Bachelors must have some advantages, to make themselves amends. The line of verse from Dryden is quoted with singular appositeness, the poet, when he wrote it, having been just of the same age with the cricketer; that is to say, in number of years. The quality of them he would have been but too happy to exchange for those of the man of action. But these parties out doors-" Can any parties in a house compare with them?" says Mr. Nyren. None, say we;-unless it be a bridal party, made out of the same kind of people; and even then, the rooms would be better if they could be had out in the fields and woods,-Nature's own apartments, such as we see in Chaucer's "Flower and the Leaf," or in the pictures of Boccacio and Stothard. It is a melancholy thing to say for England, with her beautiful country, that we have not even a word to express an entertainment amidst scenery out of doors, but must recur for one to the French, Fête Champêtre; that is to say, a festival in the fields, or the country,-a rural entertainment. "Rural Entertainment" would sound affected in English-But we shall grow wiser as real "knowledge of the world" extends, and when it is no longer confined to the signification of above a nine-hundredth million part of it. "The world!"-The man of fashion means St. James's by it; the mere man of trade means the Exchange, and a good prudent mistrust. But cricketers, and men of sense and imagination, who use all the eyes and faculties God has given them, mean his beautiful planet, gorgeous with sunset, lovely with green fields, magnificent with mountains,—a great rolling energy, full of health, love, and hope, and fortitude, and endeavour. Compare this world with the others,-no better than a billiard ball, or a musty plum. THE MEETING OF JACOB AND JOSEPH. Down to the earth-and at his feet, Worse than the meanest, bow'd by fears, Then thro' the Patriarch's mind was showered The coat, sole vestige of his son; The stains, and he had kiss'd them dim; The web of falsehood round him spun, And Joseph holding him! And prophecy, long almost held A nursery tale, and faith half fled, "Now might I die!" the Patriarch prays, TABLE-TALK. Frabricius Serbellone, a disgrace to the military profession, was patronized and employed against the Protestants of Avignon and Orange, by Pope Pius the Fourth, and that unfeeling Emperor, Charles the Fifth. This infamous Satellite of the Vatican blots the present page only for the purpose of recording an execrable refinement of cruelty, united with religious rancour, worthy the monster who employed him, and highly gratifying to his own brutality of manners and thirst for blood. Having, as he imagined, exhausted his invention in search of new modes of torture, by suspending in chimnies, impaling, and roasting by slow fires the unfortunate wretches who fell into his hands, and by other means too shocking and too indecent to recite, at the instigation of Satan or his prime ministers, at St. Peter's and Vienna, he procured a number of Geneva bibles, and folding the leaves into long and narrow slips, he larded with them the bodies and limbs of his miserable victims, previous to his committing them to the flames. Adding insult to injury, he told them, in the ' agonies of death, "That he knew it was an edition of the bible they were attached to, and he was determined they should have enough of it." Such have been the enormities of those who fancied they were doing God service, and fulfilling their duty, under a gospel which preaches love and good will towards men.-Lounger's Common-Place Book. A German Apologue.-An archbishop and his nephew were taking an evening's walk together, when they fell into a dispute about the spots in the moon. "I see a shepherdess sitting under a tree very clearly," said the young man. "I can distinguish the tower of a cathedral church," said the uncle. Affecting and Blessed Epitaph.-In the cathedral at Vienne in France, a venerable Gothic structure, on the united tomb of two friends, are inscribed the words MENS UNA, CINIS UNUS. One mind, one dust. TO CORRESPONDENTS. "Errors of Education" and the letter of a "Happy Mother" on the question of Flogging at Public Schools, do credit to the feelings of the respective writers; but the subjects are not handled in a way to suit the plan of our Journal. We shall be glad to hear from UN LECTEUR QUI A SOIF; though we fear we cannot vary our plan so as to meet his wishes. RUSTICUS and a PART OF THE MANY shall have due attention. Our friend Hoмo may make himself easy, we think, upon the subject of his letter, considering he did his duty so long and strenuously. He set a good example in one respect; he may now fairly set it in another. If all men were to do as much, the world would soon be in excellent condition. We have not time to go into the subject mentioned by TAU, ourselves; but we shall be ready, as we ever have been, to do it any service by the way, and to insert any information upon it communicated by others. ECRITOR'S Opinion of verse-making as a pastime. and a resource against less innocent supports, is excellent; but he must cultivate his ear more, in order to do justice to his feelings. We shall be glad to hear from F. L. a year hence. BEPPO'S Table-talk will appear. His "Romance of Real Life," besides not being authenticated, is hardly striking enough in the circumstances, for our series. An action may be very noble, and unusual too, and yet not be sufficiently unusual, or invested with interest, to furnish out a narrative. We should have sooner noticed the communications of J. O. U.; but had been doubting whether his paper, however interesting to scholars, would have been popular and explanatory enough for the general reader. We have come to the conclusion however, that his subject is one which any intelligent mind will be glad to make the most of by the help of its own light, if it possess no other; and accordingly it shall appear next. week. An AERONAUTIC ROMANCE the first opportunity, ABBEY MUSICAL FESTIVAL. A COMPLETE ACCOUNT of the late FESTIVAL, with the names of the Performers properly classed, together with a critical review of all the Performances, will appear in the Supplement to the Musical Library, on the 1st of August next, price 6d. This will complete the History of Musical Festivals in Great Britain, from the first, at the commencement of the last century, to that just celebrated; the whole of which will be found comprised in the Four Numbers of the work already published, and that now preparing. ROYAL MUSICAL FESTIVAL Nos. 1. and 2 of a new volume of the MIRROR contain a Concise Description of these memorable Performances with Two Large Engravings-The Ochestra and Royal Box. "The oldest, and probably the best, of our cheap compatriots -a very pleasing, entertaining, and intelligent miscellany.— Literary Gazette. Each Volume is complete in itself, and may be purchased separately; Twenty-two Volumes, £6, în boards, or neatly half bound, £7. 14s. J. Limbird, 143, Strand; and sold by all Venders of Cheap Periodicals throughout the Country. Published This Day. I. British Museum.-Elgin Marbles, VOL. XXIII. Vol. I. Vegetable Substances, Vol. III. Faculties of Birds, Part I. History of British Costume. London:-CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, Ludgate Street. SOUTH AUSTRALIA. This day is published, THE NEW BRITISH PROVINCE OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA; or A Description of the Country. Illustrated by Charts and Views, and an Account of the Principles, Objects, Plan, and Prospects of the NEW COLONY. In a small pocket volume, bound in cloth, price 2s. 6d. London: Charles Knight, 22, Ludgate Street. Just Published, Part 4 of This work appears in numbers every Saturday, Price Fourpence; and in monthly parts, containing 36 pages of music, Bewed in a wrapper, price 1s. 6d. The principle which has been so extensively applied in Literature and the Graphic Art, of producing works at the lowest possible point of cheapness without any abandonment of the qualities by which the popular knowledge and taste may be advanced, has yet a wide field for its employment in the department of Music. This most delightful of the arts was never so generally cultivated in this country as at the present moment. The Pianoforte, especially contributes to the recreation and enJoyment of thousands of families throughout the United Kingdom, and in our colonial possessions. And yet the publications by which this taste ought to be kept up and improved, are sold at a price which, in many cases, amounts to a prohibition. The design of the Musical Library' is to afford the same advantage to amateurs in music that the lovers of literature are deriving from the cheap publications for the advancement of real knowledge that are now distributed through every part of the Empire, and are placed within the reach of persons of every condition. It is proposed to publish a Collection of Music, both vocal and instrumental, by the best masters, ancient and modern the ancient in a state adapted to the improved condition of our musical instruments; and the modern the best, and only the best, that the continent of Europe and our own country can supply. We shall revive and put into an inviting form the compositions of the older classical masters, now only known to a few connoisseurs, keeping in mind the saying of a famous French modiste, nothing is to new as that which is forgotten.' At the same time, it will be our further object to naturalize the confessedly good productions of the newest foreign composers, especially of the German masters, by the republication, sometimes with English words, of their best vocal compositions; and also by publishing movements, or extracts, complete in themselves, from such of their instrumental works as are of a length unsuited to the Musical Library.' It is also our design, occasionally, to engage composers of the first eminence to supply us with new compositions; and we shall never neglect an opportainty of giving currency to such productions of real genius as may be offered to us by those who have no means of securing extensive circulation to them, and who might be deterred from publishing them on their own account. We thus hope to spread widely a taste for what is excellent in the various departments of the art, and render the best compositions available to the purposes of private society. In the execution of our plan we shall steadily keep in view the great principle, that excellence and cheapness are not incompatible. The bent of civilization is to make good things cheap.' In the prosecution of these objects, which we may not unjustly consider likely to advance our national enjoyments, a weekly Number containing eight music-folio pages is devoted either to Vocal or Instrumental Music, so that these two classes of compositions may be separately bound. It would involve great prac tical difficulties to attempt to make every Number complete in itself; but as the intervals of publication between each Number are very short, little inconveniences will be experienced. Each Part, however, will be complete in itself, except under very peculiar circumstances. Also, price бd., sewed in a wrapper, to be continned monthly, SUPPLEMENT TO THE MUSICAL LIBRARY, No. 4. This Supplementary Work may be purchased independently of the Musical Library, which will be complete in itself; but it will forth a valuable addition to that publication. It consists of twelve folio pages of letter-press, comprising musical news, oreign and domestic; Reviews of important new musical pablications: with memoirs of the Lives, and remarks upon the works, of eminent Composers, and especially of the authors whose productions are published in the Musical Library" of the MIRROR, With a Steel-plate Portrait of H. R. H. the Duke of Sussex, nearly 100 Engravings, and 450 closely printed pages 5s. 6d. boards. "It is just the humanizing volume that ought to delight the fire-side of every cottage in the kingdom."-Athenæum. Each Volume is complete in itself, and may be purchased separately; the Twenty-two Volumes, £6, in boards, or neatly half bound, £7. 14s. 1. THE DESTROYING ANGEL. 2. JOSHUA COMMANDING THE SUN TO STAND STILL. 3. THE ROD OF MOSES TURNED INTO A Serpent. 4. AMALEK OVERCOME. 5. DEATH OF MOSES ON MOUNT NEBO. 6. MIRIAM STRICKEN WITH LEPROSY. 7. THE CUP FOUND IN BENJAMIN'S SACK. 8. JACOB'S DAUGHTERS TRYING TO COMFORT HIM. MR. TATE'S NEW ARITHMETICAL WORKS. ACOMPLETE SYSTEM OF COMMERCIAL ARITHMETIC, containing a new and improved explana. tion of the Theory of the Science, with an extensive application of its principals to the various branches of Commerce, according to the existing practices of trade, and numerous rules for performing MENTAL CALCULATIONS. BY WILLIAM TATE, Jun. II. Second edition, in one vol. 8vo. bound in cloth, price 88. THE MODERN CAMBIST, Forming a Manual of Foreign Exchanges, in the direct, indirect, and cross operations of Bills of Exchange and Bullion, including an extensive investigation of the arbitration of Exchange according to the practice of the first British and Foreign Houses, with numerous formulæ and tables of the weights and measures of other countries compared with the imperial standard. By William Tate. 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The above, accompanied with Descriptions, form the THE MERCURY, the fastest, most commo FOURTH MONTHLY PART OF WESTALL AND MARTIN'S Sold by all Booksellers and Newsmen throughout the BULL AND CHURTON, Library, 26, Holles Street, London. Just published, in foolscap 8vo. price 7s. 6d. cloth. TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS; Comprising the CONVICT'S DAUGHTER, and the CONVERT'S DAUGHTER. "There is no tragedy so affecting as that of private life,-Th writer of this powerful volume has selected two subjects of very great interest-His observations upon men and manners, pictures of society, and sketches of character are shewed, just, and original."-Contrt Journal. "Tese stories are written with great taste and feeling, and the incidents are worked up with much ingenuity and interest." -Bell's Messenger. Smith, Elder, and Co. Cornhill dious, and elegantly fitted Packet on the River station, leaves London Bridge Wharf, every Monday at Half-past Nine o'clock; and Gravesend, every Afternoon at Five, arriving in both cases, ahead of all other Packets. This Mercury (esteemed a perfect model,) is the only Gravesend Packet with a Saloon, affording the light and view through the stern windows, the effect of which has obtained universal admiration. The MEDWAY Yacht leaves London Bridge at half-past Eight, every Morning; and Gravesend at Half-past Five in the Afternoon. The celebrated Commercial Packet, the COMET, leaves Gravesend at Seven o'clock in the Morning, (except Mondays, when she leaves at Half-past Six;) and London Bridge, on her return, at Half-past Four performing her passage in less time than any other Packes, except the Mercury. In a few days the STAR will be added to the Establishment and due notice given of the hours of her departure. The Public are respectfully requested to bear in mind, that the Packets start punctually, but are half an hour at the Wharf before the times appointed to start, in order that Passengers may embark conveniently to themselves. LONDON JOURNAL. TO ASSIST THE ENQUIRING, ANIMATE THE STRUGGLING, AND SYMPATHIZE WITH ALL, WEDNESDAY, JULY 16, 1834. drink. " BREAKFAST CONCLUDED. TEA AND COFFEE, MILK, BREAD, &C. WE have said nothing of coffee and chocolate at breakfast, though a good deal was quoted in our last paper from Mr. D'Israeli respecting those beverages. We confined ourselves to tea, because it is the staple A cheap coffee however, or imitation of it, has taken place of tea with many; and the poor have now their "coffee houses," as the rich used to have. We say 'used," because coffee-drinking in such places, among the rich, is fast going out in consequence of the later hours of dinner and the attractions of the club-houses. Coffee, like tea, used to form a refreshment by itself, some hours after dinner. It is now taken as a digester, right upon that meal; and sometimes does not even close it; for the digester itself is digested by a liqueur of some sort, called a chasse-café (coffee-chacer.) We do not, however, pretend to be learned in these matters. If we find ourselves at a rich table, it is but as a stranger in the land, to all but the lasting humanities of it. A custom may change next year, and find us as ignorant of it, as the footman is otherwise.* As we claim the familiar intimacy of the reader, in this our most private-public Journal, and have had it cordially responded to by fair and brown (who will not cry out as a critic did against Montaigne, for saying he liked sherry, "Who the devil cares whether he liked sherry or not?") we shall venture to observe, in comment upon the thousand inaudible remarks on this question which we hear on all sides of us, that for our parts we like coffee better than tea, once in a way, but tea "for a constancy." And one after the other makes a "pretty" variety; (as Dr. Johnson, or Mr. Pepys, would phrase it). To be perfect in point of taste (we do not say, of wholesomeness) coffee should be strong, and hot, with little sugar and milk. In the East they drink it without either; which, we should think, must be intolerable to any palates that do not begin with it in childhood, or are not in want of as severe stimulants as those of sailors (though by the way, we understand that tobacco-chewing is coming into fashion!) It has been drunk after this mode in some parts of Europe; but the public have no where (we believe) adopted it. The favorite way of drinking it as a meal, abroad, is with a great superfluity of milk,very properly called in France Café-au-lait, Coffee to the milk. One of the pleasures we receive in drinking coffee is, that being the universal drink in the East, it reminds of that region of the Arabian Nights; as smoking does, for the same reason: though neither of these refreshments, which are now identified with Oriental manners, is to be found in that enchanting work. They had not been discovered, when it was written. The drink was sherbet, and its accompaniments cakes and fruit. One can hardly fancy, what a Turk or a Persian could have done without coffee and a pipe, any more than the English ladies and gentlemen before the civil wars, without tea for breakfast. As for chocolate, its richness, if made good, renders it rather a food than a drink. Linnæus seems to have been fond of it; for it was he, we believe, who We advert to the knowledge of this personage, out of no undue feeling either towards himself, or those whom he serves. Both classes comprise natures of all sorts, like others. But fashiou, in itself, is a poor business, everlastingly shifting its customs because it has nothing but change to go upon; and with all our respect for good people who wear its liveries, whether master or footman, we own we have no sort of veneration for the phases of neckcloths and coats, and the vicissitudes of the modes of dining. SPARROW, PRINter, crane-court. No. 16. gave it its generic name of Theobroma, or food of the gods. It is said to be extremely nourishing, but heavy for weak stomachs. Cocoa (cacao) is a lighter kind of it, made of the shell instead of the nut. They make German flutes of the wood of the choco late-tree. An Italian wit, who flourished when tea, coffee, and chocolate had not long been introduced into his country, treats them all three with great contempt, and no less humour:— Non fia già, che il Cioccolatte Non saran giammai per me. Che un bicchier che fosse pieno E tra i Giannizzeri, Gli schiavi ingollino. Redi. Bacco in Toscana. Down in Erebus, To grind and to cook it, These vituperations however are put into the mouth of the god of wine; who may justly have resented the introduction of "the cups Which cheer but not inebriate." Off, ye inferior goods, ye comparative sophistica- "Milk," says a venerable text, "is fit for children." It is too often unfit for men, not because their stomachs are stronger than those of children, but be "An acquaintance, on whose veracity we can rely," says Mr. Phillips in his History of Fruits," informed us, that during the retreat of Napoleon's army from the north, he fortunately had a small quantity of little chocolate cakes in his pocket, which preserved the life of himself and a friend for several days, when they could procure no other food what. ever, and many of their brother officers perished for want.”— Pomarium Britannicum, or Historical and Botanical Account of Fruits known in Great Britain. Third Edition, p. 67. Colburn. †The daughters of Danaus, who killed their husbands. PRICE THREE HALFPENce. cause they are weaker. Causes of various sorts, sorrow, too much thinking, dissipation, shall render a man unable to digest the good wholesome milkbowl, that delighted him when a child. He must content himself with his experience, and with turning it to the best account, especially for others. A child over a milk-bowl is a pleasant object. He seems to belong to every thing that is young and innocent,the morning, the fields, the dairies. And no fear of indigestion has he, nor of a spoiled complexion. He does not sit up till twelve at night; nor is a beauty tight lacing herself; nor does he suspend his stomach in breathlessness, with writing "articles," and thinking of good and evil. Pleasant object also, nevertheless, is the milk-jug to the grown man, whether sick or well, provided he have "an eye.” White milk in a white jug, or cream in a cream-coloured, presents one of those sympathies of colour, which are sometimes of higher taste than any contrast, however delicate. Drummond of Hawthornden has hit it, with a relishing pencil : In petticoat of green With hair about her eine,* Phillis, beneath an oak, Sat milking her fair flock: 'Mongst that sweet-strained moisture (rare Her hand seem'd milk, in milk it was so Anacreon beautifully compares a finely tinted cheek, to milk with roses in it. There is a richness of colouring, as well as of substance in the happy scriptural designation of an abundant country,-" A land overflowing with milk and honey." Milk and honey suit admirably on the breakfast table. Their colours, their simplicity, their country associations, all harmonize. We have a dairy and a bee-hive before us,the breath of cows, and the buzzing over the garden. By the way, there is a very pretty design, in Cooke's edition of Parnell's Poems, of a girl milking a cow, by Kirk, a young Scotch artist of great promise, who died prematurely, which has wandered to the tea-cups, and is to be found on some of the cheapest of them. We happened to meet with it in Italy, and felt all our old landscapes before us, - the meadows, the trees, and the village church; all which the artist has put into the back ground. The face is not quite so good on the tea-cup as in the engraving. In that, it is eminently beautiful,-at least in the work now before us. We cannot answer for re-prints. It is one of those faces of sweetness and natural refinement, which are to be met with in the humblest as well as highest classes, where the parentage has been genial, and the bringing up not discordant. The passage illustrated is the pretty exordium of the poet's Eclogue entitled Health : Now early shepherds o'er the meadow pass, Is it not better to occupy the fancy with such recollections as these over a common breakfast, than to be lamenting that we have not an uncommon one? which perhaps also would do us a mischief, and for the gain of a little tickling of the palate take [health and good temper out of us for the rest of the day. Besides, a palate unspoilt has a relish of milks and teas, and other simple foods, which a Nabob, hot Eine-een-Scotch and old English for eyes. + See Cunningham's edition of Drummond, lately published, p. 249. |