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No. 3.



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LETTERS TO SUCH OF THE LOVI es Of nobody shall be thoug the better or worse of for speak- and modesty to be on his guard. One is the preten

KNOWLEDGE AS HAVE NOT HAD A ing in public, any more than he is now for talking in a sion of those who say that a man can have no idea of CLASSICAL EDUCATION.

room, or telling his friends of something which he thinks the ancient writers, without a deep intimacy with their LETTER I.

will please them. The example has been long set in language : the other, of those who affirm, with equal

political and other such public matters. It is desirable vehemence, that there is no necessity to know the lanWRITERS OF GREECE AND ROME, ETC.

that public matters should no longer be supposed ex- guage at all, and that translations do quite as well as DEAR FRIENDS,—It is related of an Italian lady, a

clusively to mean politics, or even parish matters (im- the originals for giving you all that you need be ac. poetess, who was addressed by a crowd of lovers, that portant as they are). They should comprise knowledge quainted with of the author's genius. her disposition was so good and charming, and inclined of all sorts, entertainment, the interchange of every The former of these pretenders is generally a shalthem all so much to resemble her, that they met one kind of advantage; and knowledge is fast making them lower mau than the other, though sometimes it is pure another in perfect barmony, and only contended who We look upon ourselves but as a bringer of some vanity and self-will that makes him talk as he does; should please her best. The case is extraordinary, and new means of enjoyment to that large party of friends, he bas an over-estimation of his advantages, simply will be thought not very possible. But there is one the fellow-creatures who do not happen to have quite as because they are bis. He is as proud of bis learnmistress who, in proportion as we love her heartily, is much of them as ourselves ; just as a man might bring ing as another pompous man might be of his park and So truly a mistress for our soul, and tends to exempt us

to his native village some curious presents, or new games, his mansion. Such is the case, when he really has $0 much from those infirmities of envy and jealousy from abroad : and fervent is our sincerity when we add, anything like an intimacy with his authors; but in both which beset the more animal passions, that all who pro- that as hundreds of the scholars now living could go far instances he would fain make out his possession to be fess themselves ber admirers, may unquestionably be deeper into the learning of the subjects we are about to unapproachable, by all who bave not bad the same golvery good friends, and love one another the better, the bandle than we sball go, so there are, of course, as den key. The common run of the class consists of men more they love herself. This Mistress is Knowledge; many readers among the average number of those to who really know nothing of their authors but the words, and this is the reason why we of the London Journal whom we address ourselves, who, if they had enjoyed and who unconsciously feel that, on that account, they venture to claim you all as friends; and to share with the same advantages as the others, would have been our must make the best of their knowledge, and pretend it you such helps as we possess, towards the enjoyment of masters in that respect as well as they ; perhaps, like is a wonderful matter. Such a man smiles when you

many of those others, could have done them more jus- speak of getting some insight into the character of For " to like the same things, and dislike the same tice on every point. We believe, however, that we Homer's genius, or Virgil's, by dint of some happy bit things, thut (says a Roman bistorian) is the friendship know enough to make our remarks welcome and useful ; of version, or some masterly criticism. He says, triafter all.”

and if love can supply the want of knowledge in this umphantly, that “even Pope" is acknowledged not to Namque, idem velle, atque idem nolle, ea demum firma

instance, as it does sometimes in others, assuredly give a right idea of him, much less Chapman, and amicitia est."--Sallust. there will be no lack of that.

those other “old quaint writers :" for "old," observe, you

a bit of Latin, that you may see the two We propose, then, in these letters, from time to time, is a term of contempt with him; though “ ancient,” he languages together, and perhaps chuse to compare the and with due intervals of other matter, to furnish those thinks, comprises every thing that is respectable. But words, and see where you can pick out a meaning. We who have not bad a classical education, and who have “old” means a man who lived only a few hundred years have heard an intelligent woman say, that when she met heart and sense enough to regret the want, with such back, and who did not write either in Latin or Greek ; with a passage in a book on a scientific or other sub. help towards the appreciation and enjoyment of the whereas “ancient" means a man who lived upwards of ject which she could not thoroughly comprehend, she great names of Greek, Roman, and other literature, as a thousand, and wrote perhaps a dull book in one of Devertheless made a point of reading it, because it translations in general do not supply, and some knowo those languages, which has contrived to come down piqued her understanding--made it curious to know ledge, united with the aforesaid love, in some degree may. to us, owing to some curious things it contains re

and she sometimes found that she got a bit of We shall begin with the most ancient — or those who lative to customs and manners, or to the influence of knowledge by the way. In the days of our boyhood, are nearest at hand, — as the case may happen ; and a succession of these sort of critics, and the long fashion and before we knew the Greek alphabet, we remember we shall help our helps with all the aids we can get they have kept up by dint of the connexion that has bow thankful we used to be to Smollett and Fielding, in from other men's criticism, and from translations that are hitherto subsisted between the power of receiving a their povels, for writing their Greek quotations in Eng really worth anything. To points of mere learning, and classical education and the advantages of wealth and lish Jetters, and how we used to sound the words, and such as men who bave learning and nothing else derote rank. When all the world come to share in that fancy them soinetling fine. They gave us a regard for themselves, we shall, of course, pay no attention ; not education, some singular questions will take place, both the language before we knew any thing about it; like a because they are without their value, but because, for- as to the genius of the ancient writers, and the moral youth who bears a girl with a sweet voice speak, before tunately, they are not necessary to our purpose, which benefits derivable from portions of them. If our friend, he has seen her; and is pleased with her tone and is to give the relish of the fruit, rather than the botany of the above class, is a man of consequence, he looks manner, though he does not even know what she says. of it. We only wish we could give this better, like that upon his learning as forming an additional barrier

We bare begun talking with you on other points, before of fruits eaten on the spot where they grow, or trans- between him and the uneducated. Be quotes Greek in we have stated the main object of our letter ; but they planted into the exquisite hot-houses that exist in the parliament, and takes it for an argument. Or he forgets are not unconnected with it; and we give you notice, cells of some brains that we know of. And yet, how both his Greek and Latin, but thinks he could recover that we shall probably take many of the like liberties of few readers are there even among the scholarly, who it when he pleases, and that is the same thing. If he is companionship, and endeavour in all respects to be as can pretend to thorough perceptions of that kind ? and a professed scholar, he is ignorant of every thing in much at our ease as possible, in order to persuade our

what multitudes are there that know no

of the world but scholarship, and therefore ignorant of that selves that we are as much at home with you as this them than the basket knows of its strawberries? We He is a pompous school-master, or a captious sort of private publicity will let us be, and that you re- will venture to say, that even with no better helps than verbal critic, or in bis most respectable capacity, a gard the writer of these letters in the only light in which it is in our power to afford, and because we judge of barmless and dreaming pedant,-a Dominie Sampson. his addressing himself to you in this way could be bear- the ancient poets as of the modern, and treat them as If England had existed before Greece, he would have able ; namely, as one who is heartily in earnest for the men and as geniuses, and creatures of perennial flesh been an idolater of Shakspeare and Milton, at the good and sociality of the world, and who would fain and blood, and of wonderful imaginations, and not as expense of Homer and Euripides; or he would have take any steps not calculated to baulk themselves, to things made up of nothing but schoolmasters, and college. known just as much of the former as he does of the promote them. To this end, it has struck him, that by caps, and a “gentlemanly reputation,” our reader shall latter! that is to say, nothing.

In short, you may finging bimself without reserve into the field, and set. know more of them, before we have done, than half the describe him as a man who knows that there is another ting an open example of the bringing into public inter- educated men in England. And we look for the special man living on the upper side of his town, of the name of course the same candour and simplicity that are prac- encouragement, to this end, of real scholars, and shall be Ancient; and a very wonderful gentleman he takes tised between friends in private, he does something grateful for any helps with which they may be moved Ancient to be, becanse he is rich, and has a large towards breaking down the barriers of many stiff and to enrich us.

library, and has given him access to it; but what sort of mistrustful conventionalities which serve to keep men There are two supposed (for they are not real) extremes a man Ancient really is, wbat is the solidity of bis asunder

, and therefore assists, however remotely, in of pretension, upon the strange question whether a know- understanding, the subtlety of his imagination, or the hastening the coming of that time, when all men shall ledge of the learned languages, is or is not of use, contents of the books in his library, except that they are say candidly and in friendliness, wbat they think, and against which it beloves an uneducated man of sense printed in certain kinds of type, of all that, our learned





friend knows nothing, and therefore he concludes, that of nature's wealth to herself,—the blossoming of the sing in many moods, “but birds sing only when they nobody else can know.

fruit trees, the leafing of the trees in general, the retura are merry.” Is there not some inconsistency between Of the other extreme of pretenders, who dogmatize on of the singing birds, and the re-appearance of the this assertion and the remarks above quoted ? Does he this subject, that is to say, who pronounce peremptory butterfiies. She is the elder and slenderer sister of not show us, that birds, as well as human beings, may judgments of Yes and No, and Possible and Impossible, May, dressed in more virgin apparel, and her fingers be moved in their song by melancholy as well as mirthwithout a due knowledge of the subject,--tbe best and are dabbled with wet; but her colder cheek bas still a ful excitement-not without pleasure, it is true-but most intelligent portion sometimes contains persons who bloom on it, and she prepares the country for her buxom still a mournful one, or something allied to it? They know so much on other points, that they ought to know sister with a world of good will.

sing, he tells us (in this and other passages of his work) better on this : but out of a resentment of the very want Of the three principal leaders of the spring and from “hope delayed,” frona want of their mates, and of the other's advantages, affect to despise them. For summer birds,--the swallow, the nightingale, and the olher uneasy circumstances; and be adds an affecting herein the exalters of a classical education, as the only cuckoo, we spoke in our first number. The trees (if our piece of information—worthy the regard of the thoughtthing needful, and the decriers of it as a thing altogether own leaves last long enough, and thicken into bowers for ful—that an experienced ear can discern a mingling of unnecessary, set out from precisely the same ground of the reader,-a

,—as we have reason to hope they will,) we

distress and irritation in the tones of their imprisoned self-sufficiency. The former unduly trumpet up the edu- shall keep till June or July, when their shade will song. Now, in what we cannot help in all this, there cation, merely because they have had it, (or think they be desirable ; and brown and thick sball be a whole

is no such pain and melancholy as we need contemplate have), and the latter as rudely decry it, merely because wood of them, by the help of their human birds, the with any misgivings of nature's good will; for birds they have not. These latter argue, that you may know poets. The present week, by the help of a book, of generally realize their hopes and their mates, and we all that is useful in ancient books, by means of transla

which it is difficult to take leave, even for a time, we heartily agree with the opinion implied by the poet tions; and that the poetry "and all that” may be got devote to the song of birds in general, and shall proceed

respecting the grounds and intentions of all her works, equally out of them, or is of no consequence. Their own to lay before our readers the following interesting


“ In nature there is nothing melancholy.” poetry, meanwhile, such as it is, that is to say, their speculations on nature's intention in it, from the pages

What is unalterable, we may conclude to be best for the caprices, their imaginary advantages, and the colouring of the writer to whom we are already so much obliged. which their humour and passions give to every thing " The purpose (says Mr. Mudie) which the song of general energy of health and pleasure which it includes; near them, is in full blossom. birds answers in the economy of nature, is one of those

what is otherwise, man (and, for aught we know, other To cut short this question, which we feel more loth to mysteries, which, like the differences of tint in their creatures too), but man evidently, is incited to ulter. Let

plumage, human ingenuity has not yet been able to extouch upon in the latter instance than in the former, plain. It is not, however, a mere pairing cry, because

us never lose sight of that manifest and important fact.

But as lovers and bereaved persons sing to their guitars (because more sympathy is due to the resentment of a it is continued till the birds break the shell, and, in want than to the arrogance of a possession), we may, persome instances, till they are able to fly. We may be

and piano-fortes, not always a song of mirth, so night. haps, illustrate the point at once to the readers' satisfac

sure, however, that it has its use; and, as we can ob- ingales and other birds may surely warble in the like

serve that the females of all birds which have that cry, shadow of a sweet thought, and feel the shade of it as tion, by the help of no greater a passage than a jest out whether it be what we call song or not, are excited

well as the sweetness. of “ Joe Miller.”

when it is uttered by the male, it may be that it pro.
duces in the female that beat which is necessary for

We proceed to give two more extracts from Mr.
It is related of Archbishop Herring, that when he was

hatching the eggs. In ourselves there are many sounds Mudie's attractive work—the first on the subject of the at college, he fell one day into a gutter, and that a wag

which make the heart beat, the blood dance, and the exclaimed as he got up,

birds more particularly called the Warblers, or those Ah, Herring, you're in a whole body glow, we know not why; and thus we have pretty pickle !" Upon which a dull fellow went away, at least no ground for denying without proof, that the

who return to us from warmer climates with songs unand said, “ So and so has been bantering poor Herring. Perhaps the more philosophical way of considering it herald of the spring, the lark.

other animals may be affected in a similar manner. known to our homesteads; the other, on that joyous Herring fell into the gutter, and so, says Dick, says he, to suppose that it produces general excitement, and

Though all the little birds are interesting, as asAh, Herring, my boy, you're in a pretty situation.a power of more energetic performance in all the labour

sociated with nature, with innocence, and with beauty, Now the pedant, who is all for the original language, which the birds can undertake.

there is a peculiar interest about the warblers. The and is of opinion that no version of their writers or ac- " The connection between the song and the plumage, birds, which remain constantly with us and come count of them can give you the least idea of their spirit, and shows that the whole bird is subject to some geneand the silence and the moult, is also a curious matter, around our dwellings in the inclement season, give that

season sprightliness by their appearance, and hail with is bound to maintain, on the same principle, that it ral law, which, though it lies deep beyond the power of their songs any warm day that breaks out. But the would be impossible to convey the smallest real taste of our divination, governs ever the minutest circumstance, constancy of their appearance takes off some of the inthis joke out of English into Latin or Greek ; while the production of a new spot or gloss on a feather, terest which, if they were as novel as they are beautiful

, every real scholar knows that the thing is very possible. of courage into birds naturally timid.

the reddening of a comb or a wattle, or the inspiration they would more certainly command ; and as their

The birds, in songs, breaking out as they do in the intervals of the On the other side the bigotted no-scholar is bound to fact, blossom in the spring as well as the plants ; and when storms, are no certain signs that the life of the year insist, that the stupid version of the joke is quite as good the purpose of nature is accomplished, the bloom of one has begun, we do not listen to them with the same

attention and satisfaction as to the migrant warblers. as the original, or at any rate supplies us with all that is shed as well as that of the other. But if the purpose

of nature in continuing the race, is not accomplished, “ The song, or the other demonstrations of spring, is really wanted of it,—that the word situation is as

the bloom lingers. If the east wind shrivel the anthers given by the resident bird, tells us merely of the state of good as the word pickle, and that, therefore, no utility of the peach blossoms, the petals do not come down the season in our own country, of which we have other is lost sight of no real information. It is true, the perfect in that powdery shower which is the sign of means of judging; but the summer, or rather the spring

a plentiful crop; they cleave to the tree, and languish migrant brings us tidings from afar-intimates that the whole joke is lost, the whole spirit of the thing, but that

slowly there. "Wo be to the wind of the black north- plains of Africa are burned up with drought, or that is no matter. As to confining the notion of utility to tast," says the cultivator ; "it sheds no blooms ;” and the season of growth is advancing in the south of Europe, matters of information, useful in the ordinary sense of so also may the lover of birds lament, if the songs of and will speedily reach us. They are visitants from the word, however important; we will not waste our

his favourites are continued through the summer. If afar, but they are not strangers; they are our own na

the bird continues its song, it at the same time continues tive birds that retired during winter, leaving the groves, room, at this time of day, after all which has been said

its plumage ; and the moult, when it does, takes place, the fields, and the river banks to other races, driven and understood to the contrary, with shewing you what partly because it is at a later and colder season, and from our own wilds, or from more inclement regions you know already. The more we really know of any partly from that part of physiology which has not yet further to the north, so that in the season of penury there thing, languages included, the more, as it has been finely become a science; the new plumage has less of the might be plenty for those whose structure and powers

did not adapt them for flights so far to the southward; said, do we “ discipline” our “ humanity ;” that is, teach peculiarity of the male

, and more resembles that of the

female and the young, than if the bird had been mute and now, when the time of plenty is again coming round, our common nature to know what others have thought, and had moulted, in due course.

and vegetation is approaching that state in which there felt, and known, before us, and so enable our modesty “ That song of sorrow (though to the bird it is rather is danger to it from those creatures on which birds feed, and information to keep pace with each other. a song of liope delayed) has not the spirit of the natu

they return to resume those labours which are alike It is true, that by Midsummer, nature is

useful, and those songs which are alike cheering, to It will not be supposed by the reflecting reader that muffled by drooping leaves, and fallen 'blooms, and

themselves and to us. we mean to compare the sufficiency of a translation in the downy anthers; and it waxes fat and rank, so that They come also to be our near associates, when above instance with its being all that might be wanted in though it may murmur, it will not “ring clear,(like a

those that we had with us in the winter are beginning others, or that the spirit and peculiar fragrance (so to moistened flute,) as it does in the season of vernal song,

to seek their way to the woods and the wilds. All when all is fresh and full of sap; but we also can per

the warblers love shade and shelter; but, with few exspeak,) of such poetry as Shakspeare's, could be transceive a falling off in the note itself; and we have a

ceptions, they seek these among the cultivated lands, ferred through a Greek medium without losing any thing corroboration in caged birds, which never give their

or close on their margins. Some are in the grove, by the way ; unless a Shakspeare himself were the ope- song with the full glee and power of that of the wood

others in the coppice; some by the ridgy stream, or rator, or even then. Undoubtedly the peculiarity of the lands. Even in the most admired song that is warbled

the reedy pool, and others in the brake; but they are from the prison-house of wire, an ear tuned and habitu

not found on the wide waste, or in the upland forest ; medium itself, the vessel, will make a difference. All that

ated to the free strains of nature, can recognize a blend- and, generally speaking, a man always partakes in the we mean to say is, that some real taste of the essence of ing of the cry of irritation and distress. Nor can it be benefit of their labours, and may hear the melody of ancient genius, far better than what is afforded by the otherwise. The bird is the child of nature as much as

their notes. The spaces of which they extend vary, and man is, and it loves liberty as well-better, for it will

so do the characters of those places which they most specimens generally on sale, can be given by means of

not voluntarily exchange that to be a pampered slave frequent; but it is a general rule, that where the air is great care and lovingness; and that those who are so in a palace. It puts one in mind of that exquisitely

most pure, and the soil most fertile, and in the highest insanely learned as to take the vessel itself for the whole mournful delineation of the children of Israel, in painful state of cultivation, there the warblers are found, in the merit of the contents, have no taste of it at all.

servitude and restraint, even on the palmy shores of the greatest variety of species, and the greatest number of wide-rolling Euphrates; and one cannot contemplate individuals. Even their voices partake of the characthe imprisoned bird, without thioking on the mossy

ters of their localities. The nightingale sings more THIRD WEEK IN APRIL.

tree, the little nest, and the chirping brood, and feeling sweetly over the gravel in Surrey, than over the clay in the force of the unanswerabie interrogatory-"Ah! how

Middlesex. can we sing the song of our God in the place of our

“ There are considerable differences of appearance APRIL is full of the beauteous evidences of Spring. captivity ?"- Feathered Tribes of the British Islands. in the warblers, answering to the haunts in which they March has enough of them to make us grateful, but Vol. 1. p. 244.

are found; but there seems a general likeness through April, with her profusion of white and green, of her In another part of his book, where be speaks of the

all the genera.

They are delicate in their outlines, and her bright little wings, confirms the promise. nightingale (respecting whose song we venture to think in many other genera. Their plumage is delicate, and,

without any of the full or abrupt curves that are found **S,

may be said to bave four charming manifestations him on the unorthodox side), Mr. Mudie says, that men though there be some exceptions, their colours are sub


ral song:

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dved, and withont any very strong markings or con- one, nor in the finest taste ; but it appears to us, that their names, but if he wanted to speak to any of them, trasts. The featbers on the shoulders and the wing with allowance for the conceit, and keeping in mind the

used to cry “Hop!” Probably this was nothing more coverts are short, so that the wings are light. Their liquid sharpness of the French pronunciation, especially than the old cry of our gentry to their servants de

-"Hoh, ners, though gentle, are rather sprightly. They have in the last line, the "echo to the sense” is really not the honestest man in the world." not, indeed, any organs which can be regarded as offen- unhappily sounded. Here are the lines. Translation sive weapons; their bills are tender, suited only for the is out of the question : capture of insects and their larvæ, or for bruising

PAGANINI. berries, or other small pulpy fruits. They are not all

La gentil alouette, avec son tirelire,

Tirelire, a lire, et tireliran tire, song birds, but they comprise the finest of our song

Vers la vonte du ciel, pius son vol vers ce lieu sters, and their notes run more on the minor keys than

Vire et desire dire, adieu Dieu, adieu Dieu. those of any other birds.”—Vol. I. p. 313. “ The lark that tirra-lirra chaunts," says Shakspeare.

So play'd of late to every passing thought The warblers, besides the nightingale, include the

With finest change (might I but half as well sedge and reed songsters, the red-start

, the white-throat, spirit

, see the poems of Mr. Shelley. Spenser has a
For an ode to the sky-lark, full of the bird's own extatic So write!) the pale magician of the bow,

Who brought from Italy the tales, made true, the petty-chaps, citmouse, black-cap, &c. The thrush,

Of Grecian lyres; and on his sphery band, with its beautiful mellow wildness, sings to us nine charming image of Cupid bathing and dressing his wings,

Loading the air with dumb expectancy, under the eyes of a weeping beauty :months ont of the twelve. Now for the sky-lark, re

Suspended, ere it fell, a nation's breath."

The blinded archer-boy specting whose movements, during its song, Mr. Mudie

Like lark in show'r of rain,

He smote.—and clinging to the serious chords enters into some curious particolars.

Sate bathing of his wings;

With godlike ravishment, drew forth a breath, And glad the time did spend

So deep, so strong, so fervid thick with love, “Larks, from their vast numbers, flock much and fly

Under those crystal drops,

Blissful, yet laden as with twenty prayers, far in the winter, and flock more to the uplands in

Which fell from her fair eyes, the middle of England, where much rain usually falls in

And at their brightest beams

That Juno yearn'd with no diviner soul
Him proyned* in lovely wise.

To the first burthen of the lips of Jove.
the summer, than to the drier and warmer places near
the shores ; but so true are they to their time, that, be

The exceeding mystery of the loveliness it in the south, the centre, or the north, the lark is

Sadden'd delight; and with his mournful look, always ready on the first gleamy day of the year to OUR present week is rich in birth-days.

Dreary and gaunt, banging his pallid face mount to its watch tower in the upper sky, and proclaim

April 16, 1588. At Malmsbury, in Wiltshire, whence he Twixt his dark flowing locks, be almost seem'd, the coming of the vernal season. It is in fact more

is called the Philosopher of Malmsbury, Thomas Hobbes, To feeble or to melancholy eyes, joyant then in the sun, more inspirable by the life which who originated much of the philosophy that was after- One that had parted with bis soul for pride, the solar influence diffuses through the atmosphere, than

wards broached with more popularity by Locke and And in the sable secret liv'd forlorn. almost any other creature: not a spring air can sport, others, the supposed opinions of their master on ques

But true and earnest, all too happily not a breeze of morn can play, not an exhalation of tions of religion and government having kept his name

That skill dwelt in him, serious with its joy; freshness from opening bud or softening ciod can ascend, in the back-ground. Though fearless in intellect

For noble now he smote the exulting strings, without note of it being taken and proclaimed by this Hobbes was personally, a timid man, and very anxious to

And bade them march before his stately will; all-sentient index to the progress of nature. keep clear of church and state troubles. He was one

And now he lov'd them like a cheek, and laid " And the form and manner of the indication are as of the omaments of the tribe of smokers, being fond of

Endearment on them, and took pity sweet; delightful as the principle is true. The lark rises, not soothing his meditations with a pipe. His attempts at

And now he was all mirth, or all for sense like most birds, which climb the air upon one slope, by poetry form an extraordinary and ludicrous contrast

And reason, carving out his thoughts like prose a succession of leaps, as if a heavy body were raised by he took to poetry when he was too old; but the truth is, with his prose works. Dryden good-niaturedly says that

After his poetry; or else be laid a succession of efforts, or steps, with pauses between ;

His own soul prostrate at the feet of love, his philosophy was too material to make a poet of. He it twines upward like a vapour, borne lightly on the at

And with a full and trembling fervour deep, mosphere, and yielding to the motions of that as other wanted the fine elements of imagination and sentiment.

In kneeling and close-creeping urgency, vapours do. Its course is a spiral gradually enlarging; his translation of Homer, one of the most ridiculous The following (from memory,) is a specimen or two of

Implor’d some mistress with hot tears; which past, and, seen on the side, it is as if it were keeping the mistakes ever committed by a great man. Speaking of

And after patience had brought right of peace, boundary of a pillar of ascending smoke, always on the the sound of Apollo's arrows in his quiver, as the god

He drew, as if from thoughts finer than hope, surface of that logarithmic column, (or funnel rather,) moved along in his wrath, (which is a passage prodi.

Comfort around him in ear-soothing strains which is the only figure that, on a narrow base, and

And elegant composure; or he turn'd spreading as it ascends, satisfies the eyes with its stabi. giously noble and characteristic in the Greek,) he says

To heaven instead of earth, and rais'd a pray'r lity and self-balancing in the thin and invisible Huid.

His arrows chink as often as he jogs!

So eamest vebement, yet so lowly sad, Nor can it seem otherwise, for it is true to nature. and in another fine passage, one of the very finest of

Mighty with want and all poor human tears, In the case of smoke or vapour, it diffuses itself in the antiquity, where Jupiter with the knitting of his im

That never saint, wrestling with earthly love, exact proportion as the density, or power of support in mortal brows makes Olympus tremble-he says in his

And in mid-age unable to get free, the air diminisbes : and the lark widens the volutions of fantastic rhymes, —

Tore down from heav'n such pity. Or behold its spiral in the same proportion ; of course it does so only

In his despair, (for such, from what he spoke ben perfectly free from disturbance or alarm, because

Thewith his great black brow's he nodded

Of grief before it, or of love, 'twould seem) either of these is a new element in the cause, and as

Wherewith affrighted were the powers divine,
Olympus shook at shaking of his godhead,

Jump would be into some strange wail uncouth such must modify the effect. When equally undisturbed,

And Thetis, from it, jump'd into the brine !

Of witches' dance, ghastly with wbinings thin the descent is by a reversal of the same spiral; and when

And palsied nods-mirth wicked, sad, and weak. that is the case, the song is continued during the whole to wit, plunged into the ocean !

And then with sbow of skill mechanical, time that the bird is in the air.

April 17, about 497 before the Christian era, at a Marvellous as witchcraft, he would overthrow "The accordance of the song with the mode of the village near Athens, Socrates, the founder of the phi- That vision with a show'r of notes like hail, ascent and descent, is also worthy of notice. When the

losophy of good sense, who taught us what to do in Or sudden mixtures of all difficult things volutions of the spiral are narrow, and the bird changing hopes to which Nature herself, and a sense of the in

our houses and social intercourse, not forgetting the Never yet beard; flashing tbe sharp tones now, its attitude rapidly in proportion to the whole quantity visible world, incline the aspirations of men.

In downward leaps like swords; now rising fine of flight, the song is partially suppressed, and it swells

Into some almost tip of minute sound, as the spiral widens, and sinks as it contracts ; so that

To sage philosophy next lend thine ear,

From which he stepp'd into a higher and higher

From heav'n descended to the low-roofd house though the potes may be the same, it is only when the

On viewless points, till laugh took leave of him:

Of Socrates ; see there his tenement, lark sings poised at the same height, that it sings in a Whom, well inspired, the oracle pronounced

Or he would fly as if from all the world uniform key. It gives a swelling song as it ascends,

To be alone, and happy, and you should hear and a sinking one as it comes down ; and if even it take

Milton's Paradise Regained. His instrument become a tree far off,

For but one wheel in the air, as that wheel always includes

A nest of birds and sunbeams, sparkling both,

Not to know at large of things remote either an ascent or a descent, it varies the pitch of the

A cottage-bow'r: or be would condescend,

From use, obscure, and subtle, but to know song.

That which before us lies in daily life

In playful wisdom which knows no contempt, "The song of the lark, besides being a most accessible Is the prime wisdom.

To bring to laughing memory, plain as sight, and delightful subject for common observation, is a very

A farm-yard with its inmates, ox and lamb, curious one for the physiologist. Every one in the least April 18, 1483, at Urbino, in Italy, Raphael (Raf

The whistle and the whip, with feeding hens conversant with the structure of birds, must be aware faello Sanzio) the prince of painters ; so called, because

In household fidget muttering evermore, that, with them, the organs of intonation and modula- be possessed the greatest of requisites for the art of And rising as in scorn, crown'd Chanticleer, tion are imward, deriving little assistance from the tongue, painting in their highest characters, particularly that of

Ordaining silence with his sovereign crow. and none, or next to none, from the mandibles of the bill. expression, or the power of exhibiting the thoughts and

Then from one cbord of his amazing shell, The windpipe is the musical organ, and it is often very emotions of inen in the face and figures. And he could

Would he fetch out the voice of quires, and weight curiously formed. Birds require that organ less for do this alike in gentle subjects and in grand. Raphael Of the built organ; or some two-fold strain breathing than other animals having a windpipe and was as prosperous in fortune as in art, and appears to

Moving before him in sweet-going yoke, lungs, because of the air cells and breathing tubes with bave been beloved by every body ; but died young-at

Ride like an Eastern conqueror, round whose state which all parts of their bodies (even the bones,) are fur- the age of thirty-seven ; yet he produced' an astonish

Some light Morisco leaps with his guitar; nished. But those diffused breathing organs must act ing heap of works. But this it is to have a pursuit

And ever and anon o'er these he'd throw with least freedom when the bird is making the greatest which we perfectly love. “ And the more a man does,”

Jets of small notes like pearl, or like the pelt efforts in motion ; that is , when ascending or descending: says Mr. Hazlitt, the more he can do,” which is a

Of lovers' sweetmeats on Italian lutes and in proportion as these cease to act, the trachea is saying that looks like a contradiction, but, on a little From windows on a feast-day, or the leaps the more required for the purposes of breathing. The inspection, will be found to contain a very evident and

Of pebbled water, sprinkling in the sun, sky lark thus converts the atmosphere into a musical encouraging truth. Habit produces readiness

. An ex

One chord effecting all :- and when the ear instrument of many stops, and so produces an exceed- cellent idea of one of Raphael's finest productions, the Felt there was nothing present but himself ingly wild and varied song-a song which is, perhaps, death of Ananias, has been given in one of the energetic And silence, and the wonder drew deep sighs, not equal either in power or compass, in the single stave, wood-cuts of the Penny Magazine.

Then would bis bow lie down again in tears, to that of many of the warblers, but one which is more April 21, 1583, at Delft, in Holland, Hugo Grotius,

And speak to some one in a pray’r of love, varied in the whole succession. All birds that sing as- a statesman, theologian, and law writer, all (consider

Endless, and never from his beart to go: cending or descending, have similar power ; but the sky. ing the time be lived in) on the side of liberality and a

Or he would talk as of some secret bliss; lark has it in a degree superior to any other."-Vol. I. Christian benevolence.

And at the close of all the wonderment

During the struggles in his p. 6. country with a less generous system, he got into prison,

(Which himself shar'd) near and more near would come Mr. D'Israeli, in the second volume of his Curiosities and his wife delivered bim by an ingenious stratagem,

Înto the inmost ear, and whisper there

Breathings so soft, so low, so full of life, of Literature, lately republished, (p. 69,) has a quotation putting bim into a chest which used to go to and fro between him and his friends with books in it. Grotius

Toucb'd beyond sense, and only to be borne about the lark, from the fantastic, but not un poetical pages had a fine taste in poetry, and was of social and plea

By pauses which made each less bearable, of the old French poet, Du Bartas, in which he thinks the sant manners. A French writer, who ,often supped

That out of pure necessity for relief imitation of the bird's song not a bappy one.

The mode
with him, says that he never called his servants by

From that heap'd joy, and bliss that laugh'd for pain,

The thunder of th' uprolling house came down, of attempting to do justice to the song is not a bappy

And bow'd the breathing sorcerer into smiles.

* Pruned,

Wisest of men,

Paradise Lost.

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have required any such stimulus to bis good-nature); A masquerade is occasionally got up at this theatre, Conclusion of last week's Extract from Mr. Bentham's to a notice so deeply kind, that it becomes us to be si- but with little success. One has just taken place. Our unpublished Work.

lent before it, in the classical pages of the Examiner; beloved countrymen, in fact, as a body, are not yet Praise and Censure. In the conveying approbation to to a very particular one, calculated to be extremely use- lively and off-band enough in the art of sociality, to another for meritorious conduct, let the expressions be ful, in the Spectator; to another, of singular gallantry and make these exhibitions tell. They want a few more warm and cordial. Let the recompense be as much as the circumstances of the case justify. Sincerity

handsomeness on the part of the Age, which we are quick London Journals! together with some other things which and candour, indeed, are modifications of veracity; or to acknowledge; to the Northampton Herald for a para- graver journals will help to bring them.

We never saw rather veracity is a modification of sincerity; but vera- graph in which we recognize the friendly and graceful an English masquerade but once, and then its mirtli city has its shapes more or less attractive ; and when it mind of a writer in another journal; to the Bucks Gaselte was so melancholy, that it made us go away. Half of has the matter of pleasure at its disposal, let its distribution be made as welcome as possible to the receiver. for sending us its brotherly furtherance of the paragraph; the people seemed “afraid of committing themselves," That a favour denied may be made, by the grace of its to other papers, which we have heard of, but cannot and the other half bent upon showing that they were denial, almost as pleasurable as a benefit conferred, has with certainty specify; and last, not least, to our modest simply not afraid. There was no genuine vivacity in any almost passed into a proverb ; and that the language of but valued friend the Ladies' Penny Gaselte, whose verses quarteret. Even a real pantomime-clown who was there, approval may lose all, or almost all its acceptableness by its forms of expression, or manner of utterance, is on the occasion, for the sake of the genuine things they gave but one somerset, and then stood still for the evenwithin the observation of every man's experience. Let contain, we would extract into our Journal, if we had ing, with his bands in his pockets, as if petrified by the your praise then, when given, be given with all the ac

not retained some little modesty of our own,—to these, place, companiments which make praise most delightful. The exercise wbicb conveys approbation is in itself most saand all friends, we return our best thanks; and we re

They understand Mathews, however,—the masterly lutary. Let it be the expression of truth combined with turn them, not only for our own sakes, however flattered

exhibitions of the humourous and absurd in the person warm-heartedness; one sentence so characterized, will and animated, but for the sake of that humanity at large of one man, who has all the show to himself; and acbe worth many in which such qualities are wanting.

which such evidences of good will tend to promote, and cordingly they are now flocking to a selection from his And where extra-regarding prudence* requires that

former best pieces, at the Adelphi Theatre ; we need disapprobation should be conveyed to another, let only which, we hope and believe, will every day more and so much of pain be created as is necessary for the ac- more be drawing the world together, to compare notes

not say with what delight. You may go to see whole complishing the object you have in view. If you create too for its advancement. We have nothing to do with polic comedies in which all the persons concerned do nothing little pain, indeed, that which you do create is wasted; tics in this journal, in a certain seuse, directly or indi

worth seeing. Matthews is a whole comedy in himself, because the purpose for which it was created fails. But the common error is on the other side. Vindictiveness rectly; but the fact is, that Politics, in their noblest and

of many persons; and all his characters have some frequently mingles with the rewards of justice. The most universal sense, have to do, remotely or otherwise, thing good in them, mostly a great deal that is addisposition of power to display itself, usually leads

mirable. to the infliction of more suffering than prudence or bewith every fresh movement in society, small as well as

Face, manner, mind, are all done to the

life. nevolence warrant. And in ordinary cases, disappro- great; and it is in the name of a large principle, and bation is conveyed in that moment when passion has not of our own little pretensions, we speak, when we

Of Paganini and his marvellous violin which is now enfeebled the power of judging how much of pain is de

to be heard at the Adelphi, glorifying, praying, laugh. manded. As a general rule, avoid the expression of say, that even from so small a seed as we have attractdisapprobation when you are angry. The violent ex.

ed this sunshine of good-will to, some others may arise, ing, lamenting, making love, we dare not trust ourselves pressions to which irritation gives birth, are those which which may be transplanted, from time to time, and from

to speak in these brief notices. But we have given an will be least adapted to the end; for the blindness spot to spot, till they unite with the harvests of

extract, in another column, from a manuscript we have

greater of anger prevents it from seeing and seizing the fit

cultivators, and of awful toil, to clothe the world in glad. by us, in which there is an attempt to express some of object for the accomplishment of its end.

the feelings he has given us every time we heard him. Love of having the last word.”—Some men have a failing which is a source of great annoyance to others, and In our last week's article, under the present bead,

We are sorry to observe by the newspapers, that he has for which they pay the penalty by making the conversa- we entered too much into critical details on particular

just fallen ill. tion less agreeable, and even at times making their subjects. It is not our object to do this, though we may conversation intolerable ; it is the babit of stickling be occasionally tempted to it (as we were then) by a

We see, in the news from Scotland, that at the interfor the final word. Right or wrong in the controversy,

ment of the venerable widow of Burns, (“bonnie Jeanie subdued or victorious, there are persons who insist particular book or picture. The main objects of our on exercising the petty and vexatious despotism of ut- Journal arc explained by the general appearance of it, considerate wife,) the poet's body was for a short time

Armour,” who, we believe, made him a very kind and tering the last sentence that is uttered. This disposi- and by its resemblance in certain points to Chambers's tion is the out-break of pride in a very offensive shape; it is the usurpation of dominion over the self-love of Edinburgh Journal. In the articles under the head of exposed to view, and his aspect found in singular pre

servation. An awful and affecting sight! We should other men, on a ground where men are ordinarily most London, which are an addition to the plan of that

hare felt, if we had been among the bye-standers, as if sensitive. It is, in fact, a determination to humiliate

paper, we do not profess to give reviews, or to notice him with wbom you have been holding intercourse to everything ; but simply to catch the spirit of what is

we had found him in some bed in the night of time and humiliate him, not by the success of an irresistible argu

space, and as if he might have said something! grave ment, but by the intrusion of a tyrannic power. Avoid passing, sometimes as persons present, sometimes as

but kind words of course, befitting his spirit, and that then the act, lest the act should create the habit ; and mere recorders of the leading opinions of the town; if the habit exist, extra-regarding prudence requires though always with an attention and responsibility of

of the wise placidity of death: for so the aspect of that it should be got rid of. Watch yourself, and in

death looks. A corpse seems as if it suddenly knew

We write them chiefly for our friends in quire of any friend on whose sincerity you can rely

everything, and was profoundly at peace in conseinquire, if you are quite sure that you will not be hurt by the country, and would have them be regarded as the

quence. his reply, whether the infirmity is exhibited by, or has letters of a London correspondent, who makes the been observed in you; and if it be, correct the infirmity. subjects of them a portion of his ordinary communicaDiscovery of the culuable part of the minds of others.--Acis

The' water-colour exhibition, in Bond-street, was of benevolence cannot be better exercised on occasions tions by the post, having friends who like to know a

meant as a kind of supplement to the one in Pall where we are forced, as it were, into the company of

little of what is going forward, on points interesting to Mall east. There are few very few pictures in the room others, than by the choice of pleasurable topics of con- the advancement of knowledge. versation. A little attention will discover those topics.

worth seeing; and those one would wish to see in

We have to commence then our memorandums of the To detect what are the peculiar riches of another man's mind,

some better place. V. Bartholomew has presented us or experience, or knowledge, is among the happiest of resources, London week, with another congratulation on the in

with some of beautiful, lively colours.

How lively Its exercise is alike complimentary to the other party.

creasing exchanges of good offices between England those parrots! how beautifully intense that convolvuand instructive to ourselves. and foreign countries. The cause is no greater, this

lus! There are some landscapes by the same artist in * By "extra-regarding” prudence, the author means prudence time, than an acknowledgment on the part of the

the room; but in scenery, that liveliness of colour for as regards others, and its re-action on ourselves.

University of Tubingen, in Wirtemburgh, of the receipt which he is remarkable in his flowery pieces, is not to of a “ Collection of Historical Documents,” from the

be perceived. Sidney Shepherd is fertile but more Speaker of the English House of Commons, “


tasty than powerful. Barbank bas furnished some very under the direction of the Record Commission." But THE LONDON JOURNAL,

clever, highly-finished studies of animals. even this is an addition to the stock of promises for the WEDNESDAY, APRIL 16, 1834. world, and for the growth of general intelligence and picture is not so good. Two • Studies of Pigs,'by J.

Thorpe, are admirable ; we can only object to the backgood will. How much better to see the official autho

ground, which is a little too forward. Scene from Not only do we continue to receive from our corresrities of the globe corresponding with one another on the

Moore's • Laila Rookh,' of the dead Arab girl at the pondents the most animating expressions of kindness, subject of books and useful presents, instead of request

bottom of the sea, by Kearney, is exceedingly fanciful but the press, of all parties, has honoured and delighted ing to kuow which means to insult the other first, and

and pretty, with a nice feeling of colour. Absent, us with a singular unanimity of encouragement. We when they shall go to war, and play all sorts of absurd

but not forgotten,' does great credit to the youth of the enormities! are aware how much of this honour is done us for our good

artist, Miss Fanny Corbeaux; though the perspective intentions; and how natural it is for men of spirit and

The opera season is improving by the addition of

of the table is somewhat out of order. The lady in the Mademoiselle Giulietta Grisi, and the return of our talent, to let their praises run over in full measure when

picture is a little like the fair painter. Just Caught,' old acquaintances Rubini and Tamburini, the one with they are pleased; but we are the more delighted with

being captive fish, and a fruit-piece, by Spry, are near his rubies of notes, of wbich he is a little too lavish; their approbation for those very reasons, because it shews

Bartholomew in brilliancy of colour. And last, for a the other with a talent for almost anything, at once what a fund of good will there is towards a good inten

bonne-bouche, Lance’s ‘Study of Fruit’ is rich, brilbrilliant and solid. Mademoiselle Grisi (whom we tion, in the bosoms of all men, especially the ablest; and

liant, and fresh as nature. how ready they are to confirm by their own actions (the bave not heard) is bighly praised by the newspapers.

Our limits restrict us to noticing the most striking most valuable of all proof), any genuine evidences of * We understand (for we have not yet seen the articles) that to pictures in the collection, or we should bave mentioned belief in the possibility of a more barmonious world.

the list of our kind contemporaries and good wishers, we are to a few others; while, on the other hand, we could wish

add the Weekly Despatch and the Literary Guzette, but that the To the Times for setting the powerful example of its latter objects to our entire abstracts of new novels, as doubting that some of the attempts in the room had been left out

whether they are entirely fair. This, to be sure, is a consideragood will; to the Morning Chronicle, which (we undertion "to give us pause." We can only say, that we will enquire

altogether. They are surely not "weeds of glorious stand) followed it, (though our old brother book-worm, into it amongst the parties most concerned, and if we have made feature,” but “ weeds that have no business there.";

an erroneous judgment of their feelings on the point, make haste and able, and estimable friend, the Editor, would not

to alter it, and act accordingly.

our own.

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We spoke in our last of cheap music. There is to be a the 20th ? Yes, sir, to-day is the 19th of Septem- away in a coach,' said the master of the coffee-house,

ber.' You are right, my dear.' 'I nerer forget that with a sneer. grand Musical Festival. Sincerely do we hope that in ad

• Gone-in a coach !--without me?' day, sir.' dition to the other merits of its arrangement, we may have

You are very good, Madame Moutonnet ; They called you. Is not your name Belloie ?' 'Bidois, and you know I never forget Sainte Barbe ; dear

if you please.' • Bidois, Belloie, it's the same thing.' the pleasure of announcing that such a scale of prices has

heart!' We are not talking at present of Sainte • No Sir, it's a very different thing.' Well-however, been determined on as will admit all classes to a partici. Barbe, sir, but of Saint Eustache, which we shall keep they have gone without you, fioding you did not come pation. If so, it will be a most happy opportunity for to-morrow.'. You are right, my dear.'. I have ar- back.' Gone without me!-let me return on foot in

such weather, when I have broken my back all day with those, whose only incapacity for music is an incapacity ranged a little pic-nic party for the Wood of Romian

ville; does that suit you, sir?' • How, my dear? suit carrying their dinners ! - Madame Bernard was right to enrich their taste by the payment of seven and six

me! I am delighted ! – the Wood of Romainville, in calling Madame Moutonnet a tyrant! They can't pence, at the door of a Concert Room. The price for you know, I was always fond of!

have got far,' said the coffee-house keeper, ‘and if you run, seats of the best kiod, on each morning, is to be fixed,

"That charming wood, the lover's good.'

I dare say you will catch them at the barrier ; it was a

yellow coach.' 'Do you think so-Let us see.' And we understand, at one guinea. This may not be un

• We are not talking of lovers, Monsieur Moutonnet; Bidois ran out of the coffee-house. reasonable, considering what is offered, and who are

you are always so foolish !' My dear, it is the fault At length, having passed the barrier, the old clerk likely to be subscribers ; but from this price downwards of Saint Eustache now. Recollect yourself, sir;' and sees a backney coach. I see it !' he cried, 'I shall we trust we shall hear of various terms of admission, a severe look made M. Montonnet comprehend that his have some rest now; keep it up!' the sight of the coach calculated to the means of all ranks of people. Why daughter sat next him, and could understand all he said redoubles bis vigour. He jumps forward, running hap

upon such forbidden subjects; and so the good man hazard among the brooks and marshes into which the should there not be a shilling gallery ? Though it were

was silent, and his wife continued :—'1 have inrited road-way turned, to the great detriment of his stockamongst the very rafters of the ceiling, who would not

a good deal of company for to-morrow, and I have en- ings. He overtakes the coach; and it is a yellow one. be glad to see it filled with happy faces ?

deavoured to make a good choice among our acquaint- Stop, stop. cried Bidois, running by the side of the

I think you will be satisfied with my choice.' coach, in a voice choaked with exhaustion. The • My dear, you know that I always am!'

* Let me

coachman, thinking some one was making game of him, MONSIEUR DUPONT.

speak, M. Moutonnet ; if you interrupt me so every in- paid no attention. • Will you stop!' cried Bidois,

stant, we shall never have done. You are right, my again; you have got some people who were waiting for ABSTRACT OF THE NOVEL OF THAT NAME BY THE

dear.' • Let us see who will be there. -- First, there me, and I will give you something to drink.' 'Ah! CELEBRATED PAUL DE KOCK, WHICH HAS NOT YET

will be we three, and Bidois : I shall not take Jean- that's another thiny — if they are your acquaintance' BEEN TRANSLATED IN THIS COUNTRY.

neton, because I do not wish to leave the house empty; said the coachman, stopping his horses; 'so get up, PAUL DE Kock is the novelist of Parisian middle life,

I should not be easy. M. Bidois will carry the bas- master.' Bidois did not want this invitation repeated; and with due allowance for the caricature to which

kets ; besides, you know, it amuses him.' • Yes, directly the coach stopped, he ran and opened the door. comic novelists are subject, is famous for the truth and

ma'am,' said the old clerk, forcing a smile to hide the A cry issued from within. Ah! my God! it is my bumour of his portraits, for the vivacity of his incidents and dialogue, for a certain Voltairesque turn in his style, the baskets.

face he could not help making at the notion of carrying husband !' said a strange voice. Her husband ! cried

•I warn you, Monsieur Bidois, that they a man ; 'quick let us be off!' The opposite door is an abundance of sense, of good nature, and now and

will perhaps be a little heavy to-morrow, for we shall opened, and the gentleman fled, leaving behind him his then no little pathos. Two of his best novels have

be a great many, and, except" bread and wine, which hat; while the lady saved herself at the expense of her been made kuown to the English public by the excellent

we shall get at the guard-louse, we shall take every shawl, her gloves, and her handkerchief, leaving Bidois translations, entitled Amrew the Savoyurd, and the Mo

thing with us, — but, you are strong, you are active dismayed upon the steps. • Hallo! what does this dern Cymon. The novel of which we here give an ab

And I shall be able to relieve you too, sometimes,' mean, old fellow ?' cried the coachman, surprised to see stract is not one of his best ; but it happened to be near

said M. Moutonnet. · Not at all, sir,' said Madame; 'I his passengers off in such a hurry. Hey! Parbleu !' at band, and the autbor writes nothing which does not

do not intend that ; I do not wish you to tire yourself responded Bidois, 'it means that bad luck follows me contain amusement and character; as the reader will see by our sketch. Madame Moutonnet, who persuades thing. You are right. my dear.'Well

, then, return to in the morning ; by evening you would be good for no- every where.--I was mistaken, your passengers were

none of my friends.' Oh, very well! you're a prelly her husband she is “a fine woman," because she is large, and who is jealous of bim though she never loved

our company: we shall bave M. Bernard, the toyman, huinbug to play me such a game as this.'

and his wife, their daughter Mimi, and their little clerk, mean? humbug !- do you think I did it for the pleasure bim-the little old clerk who bas been trained into Estève. Monsieur Bernard is a very agreeable man,

of it,' •Indeed I do, my man. But, you see, it can't slavery without being reconciled to it, and who is

full of wit and gaiety. When he is in company, he pass in this way. You have frightened the two fares I was tricked out of his involuntary coach and dollar-and the grand but mortified Monsieur Dupont, with bis double

sets every thing going, and that is what we shall want; carrying, so that they bare taken to their heels; but I walcb-chain and bis eyes a-top of his head, who is so

if we had no one but you, Monsieur Montonnet, to can't do without my money. Its no use your speaking ;

amuse the company!'. - But, my dear, it appears to astonished to find out that his wife loves him, and

I took them up at the pavilion Français, and as that

Hush! I am going on : Madame Bernard is is outside the barrier, they were to give me a dollar ; breaks bis neck to return to ber, are all portraits after

far from having her husband's spirit, though she bas so, now then, you must give me a dollar.' 'I gire general, as well as Parisian, life, though strongly and plenty of pretension, and is for ever putting in her give you a dollar...

· Yes, iny fine fellow, if it's agreeamusingly marked with the characteristics of their own word.'


Nonsense! you are joking. Why should I country. M. Eustache Moutonnet was a rich laceman of the

In addition to these, M. Gerard, a perfumer, his pay the fare for people I know nothing about ? We Rue Saint-Martin. He was a man much esteemed in

wise, his sister, and little boy came to the pic-nic; and are not talking about whys and wherefores ; you have his business, for he had never let his bills be protested, bouring linendraper's, are introduced, to enlarge the party my fare, or we shall see.'. M. Dupont and M. Adolphe Dalville, a clerk in a deigli- made my passengers run away, and you must pay me

The coachman, fearing that or failed in his engagements.

Bidois would run away too, jumped from his box; but had been in business, he bad regularly attended to his beyond the fatal number of thirteen. concern from eight o'clock in the morning till eight of age, living in the Rue aux Ours.

M. Dupont was a flourishing grocer, about forty years the old clerk had no strength left for running, and he o'clock at night. He kept the day-book and ledger him.

He wore a queue quietly suffered himself to be seized by the arm. 'Come, self; Madame Moutonnet carried on the correspondence

and powder, because he thought it became him, and be- pay us, and have done with it. I will not pay,' said out of doors, and transacted business with the dealers ;

cause bis perruquier told him that it gave him an air of Bidois, with an air of decision ; for I' owe you nothing.' the shop and till were confided to the care of Na.

distinction. His sky-blue coat and yellow waistcoat · Very well! then let us go back to the guard of the demoiselle Eugenie Moutonnet. gave him a sort of fantastical appearance that quite barrier, and there we'll make you understand sense, my

little man.' Saying this, the coachman backed his coach, M. Moutonnet, notwithstanding the grandeur of his agreed with the astonished expression of his eyes at the position, could not be said to command in his own

top of his head. He caressed with complacency two and took Bidois before the clerk of the barrier. • But,' house ; his wife ruled, ordered, and disposed of every

watch-cbains that hang at his waist-band, and every said Bidois, to the coachman, you can pay yourself, for thing. When she was in a good humour (a rare occur

word he spoke was listened to attentively; he believed they have left some things in the coach. Do you take rence) she would allow her husband to go and take his

himself seducing and witty, baving all the self-suffici- me for a pick-pocket? I shall go and give those up to cup of coffee, provided that he went to the coffee-house at

ency of folly supported by riches ; in fine, he was a the prefecture.' I'll undertake that no one will come the corner of la Rue Mauconsill, because there they gave

batchelor of great importance to all who had daughters to reclaim them.' That's no business of mine. What

to marry. plenty of sugar with their coffee, and M. Moutonnet

right have you to put people out in this way with your always brought home three lumps to his wife.

The day is fine, and the pic-nic prospers by favour of basket cap? I don't wonder you frightened them; they This regulated life did not prevent our portly laceman thing proposed upon entering the wood is a game at

the relaxed severity of Madame Moutonnet. The first must have taken you for the devil.' from finding himself the happiest of men; so true is it,

“There was a general laugh at the piteous appearance tható what is one man's meal, is another man's poison.

hide-and-seek. Eugenie Moutonnet and Adolphe Dal. of Bidois when he heard himself condemned to pay. Moutonnet was a man of simple, peaceable tastes, and,

ville have some time regarded each other with an eye of In rummaging his pocket for his purse, he let fall the like a child, it was necessary to his happiness to be

inclination, though the vigilance and austerity of the remains of the turkey, which he had taken from the led.

lady's mother have prevented any familiar intercourse. basket when he put it on his head. This added to the Madaine Moutonnet was past forty; but she had

The opportunities of bide-and-seek however enable gaiety of the bystanders. • It seems the gentleman does made up her mind to stop the encroachments of time at

them to avow a mutual passion, and swear eterual con- not lose any thing when be dines at the eating-house,' thirty-six. Madame Moutonnet was never pretty, but,

stancy. After dinner, during which Madame Mou- said the clerk of the barrier, laughing. “Sir, that is being a large woman, she had persuaded Moutonnet

tonnet is incensed against her husband for attempting to my affair,' said Bidois, peerislily, putting the bird back that he had a very fine woman for his wife. She was

carve a fowl, and quarrels with the toyman's wife who into bis pocket,' don't you go and make me pay duty no coquette, but she desired to bear the bell for wit and

assists him, the younger part of the company join a vil. for this turkey's leg.' • No, Sir, turkeys don't pay beauty. She bad never loved her husband; but would Jage dance. The spirited toyman, something exalted dury.' • That's lucky. Come, coachman, if I pay,

[ have torn out his eyes had he ever dared to prove un

by drinking, provokes the villagers to thrash bim. This hope at least I may ride,' • That's all fair.' - Where faithful. Madame Moutonnet was very jealous of ber

unpleasant circunstance draws upon him the displeasure were you taking that gentleman and lady to ?' “I was rights. In fact she herself was a very

of Madame Moutonnet, already angered against bis dragon of

to set them down at the Boulevard du Temple.' Very virtue." The fruit of this convenient union of domination

wife, and she is at last enraged to that degree, that a well; you shall set me down at the Porte St. Martin. and docility, was one pretty, unaffected, sensible, and ten

total breach takes place between the families. A storm . That will do, come along.' They leave the barrier to go der-hearted girl, eighteen years of age at the commence.

separates the remaining company into two parties, and to the coach. It still rained, and Bidois said to himself, ment of our story, fond of her father and afraid of her

the Moutonnet family with young Dalville seek sbelter * At least, if I do pay dear for it, I can stretch myself at my mother. A kindly, stout young woman, named Jean

at a coffee-house. Adolphe goes out to find a coach, ease, and sleep to the Porte Saint-Martin.' Poor Bineton, and Bidois, an old clerk, completed the domestic

and Bidois is sent out soon after to assist in the dois ! It was doubtless written in the book of fate that establishment of the Moutonnets.

search; Dalville bowever, with great zeal, succeeds in be was not to reach Paris in a coach. Before they i one day, at dinner, when Moutonnet was plying his finding one first, and he and the Moutonnets leave the had got to where the coach stood, four officers, quicker kohe and fork with vigor, that he might return presently grind of the coffee-house keeper, without taking anything; coach, and jumped in, exclaiming At last we have

than the old clerk, came up, opened the door of the almost amiable," said to her husband, Monsieur Mou

for Madame Moutonnet thought it would be superfluous found one! this is not bad !! connet, to morrow is the day of Saint Eustache.'

to do so. Meantime Bidois returns unsuccessful, shel- cried Bidois, running to the door, 'they have found one, “No! really!' said the laceman, trying to seem asto:

tered, as to his head, by one of the empty baskets. After have they? Very pretty, upon my honour,--stop a monished, though for eight days past he had kept a strict

dinner he had manœuvred so skilfully as to achieve the ment-Gentlemen, gentlemen,'-getting on the stepswatch upon the barometer, to see if the weatber pro

loss of the other with some bottles, part of the remains * this coach has been waiting here an hour—for me.' .I mised to be fine on his name-day.* · Are we so near

of dinner. Some turkey, and other broken viands are in have no pence, old man,' said one of the officers, taking * In France it is the custom, instead of the day on which

bis pockets, for Madame Moutonnet would have nothing Bidois for the waterman; which was excusable, seeing a person is born, to keep that of the saint whose name they bear,

left behind 'if she knew it. Where are my friends ?' how the storm had deranged his dress. • Another time,' said he, replacing the basket under his arm. •They went and he pushed bim away roughly, shutting the door.

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