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believe me or not, as you please; but when I tell And for the same reason Mecænas,
they would faithfully and religiously observe what you that I had rather see him than all the engrav
Maluit umbrosarn quercum
was concluded amongst them : ings and pictures in the world, I tell you only the
In such green palaces the first kings reignid, pure and naked truth.
Chose the broad oak.
Slept in their shades and angels entertained : • He usually goes up and down the garden walks
With such old counsellor they did advise, with slow steps, without sitting; but often stops over And as Horace bespeaks them,
And by frequenting sacred groves grew wise. against some plant or flower, and stands still, for half
Me gelidum nemus
Free from th' impediments of light and noise, an hour at a time, observing or meditating: Could
Nympharum quc leves cum Satyris Chori
Van then retird, his nobler thoughts employs. I but guess his thoughts and discourse with himself Secerment populo
Waller. at such moments. Then, when he turns away from
As our excellent poet has described it. the plants and Aowers, he sometimes goes to play
We the cool woods above the rest advance, with his sweet grandchildren.
Where the rough Satyrs with the light Nymphs
Our blessed Saviour, as we shall shew, chose the • I speak with Goethe through my eyes, though
garden sometimes for his oratory--and dying, for the he sees me not; for I stand behind a hedge, hidden And Virgil again,
place of his sepulchre ; and we do avouch for many from him by the bushes. This all sounds very strange and romantic, but it is truly thus.
weighty causes that there are no places more fit to And, in- Nostra nec erubuit Silvas habitare Thalia.
bury our dead in than our gardens and groves, or deed, thus is it well, and better than if I had really
Our sweet Thalia loves, nor does she scorn
airy fields, sub dio, where our beds may be decked seen him and spoken with him, I well know why.
To hunt umbrageous groves.
and carpeted with verdant and fragrant flowers, trees, For suppose he condescended to talk with me, what
and perennial plants, the most natural and instincin all the world could a boy of sixteen, like me, be Or as thus expressed by Petrarch,
tive hieroglyphics of our expected resurrection and to him in conversation ? He talk to me! He has something better to do, indeed !
Silva placet Musis, urbs est inimica poetis,
immortality ; besides what they might conduce to
the meditation of the living, and the taking of our • O, my most honoured friend, if you were but
The muse herself enjoys
cogitations from dwelling too intently upon more here for once, in the garden, and by my side! How Best in the woods : Verse flies the citie noise. vain and sensual objects; that custom of burying in bappy shall I be when it is really spring, when the
churches, and near about them (especially in great buds burst! Then will I diligently watch Goethe's So true is that of yet as noble a poet of our own ; and populous cities,) being a novel presumption, inconversation with the flowers, and the birds, and the
decent, sordid, and very prejudicial to health; for light, in his nearer intercourse with nature; and I
As well might corn as verse in cities grow,
which I am sorry it is become so customary. Graves will write you all that I know about it, and all that.
In vain the thankless glebe we plough and sow; and sepulchres were, of old, made and erected by the I can so much as guess.
Against th' unnatural soil in vain we strive :
sides of the most frequented high-ways, which being • Yours, &c.' 'Tis not a ground in which these plants will thrive.
many of them magnificent structures and mauso-
about with cypress and other evergreens, and kept in
repair), were not only graceful, but a noble and use-
ful entertainment to the travellers, putting them in
buried; of which, I think my lord Verulam has As flowers are now leaving us, we continue to could get by flattering them (which was Homer and
somewhere spoken. However, there was certainly make much of the trees.
no permission for any to be buried within the walls of
Pindar's case) have not only withdrawn themselves
Rome, almost from the very foundation of it; for so
was the Sanction XII. Tab. 1x URBE NE SEPELITO contrary, we value them more than ever ; that is to retiredness, but have also commended and adorned
NEVE URITO, “ Neither to bury or burn the dead in say, if ever we can value at one time more than anonothing so much in their never-dying poems. Here
the city;" and when long after they began to violate
the law, Antoninus Pius and the einperor succeeding then is the true Parnassus, Castalia, and the Muses; ther the “ rounds of the ardent marygolds," and the and at every call in a grove of venerable oaks, methinks
did again prohibit it. All we meet of ancient to the “most genteel nasturtium” (as an Italian would I hear the answer of an hundred old Druids, and the
contrary, is the tomb of Cestius the Epulos, which is call it), shewing its cups of refined fire amidst its bards of our inspired ancestors.
a thick clumsy pyramid yet standing, nec in Urbe, nec
in Orbe, as it were, but half in, and half without the drapery of curious leaves. Nasturtium is an “ori- In a word, so charmed were poets with those na- wall. If then it were counted a thing so profane to ginal” among flowers, and its elegance is equal to its
tural shades, especially that of the Platenus, that they bury in the cities, much less would they have per
honoured temples with the names of groves, though peculiarity. There is a refinement in it throughout they had not a tree about them. Nay, sometimes
mitted it in their temples; nor was it in use among
Christians, who, in the priinitive ages, had no parti-in its colour, its leaves, and its taste. This is the one stately tree alone was so revered : and of such an
cular Cemeteria ; but when (not long after) it was Aower which Linnæus's daughter discovered to emit
one there is mention of an inscription in a garden at indulged, it was to martyrs only ad limina, and in the sparks of fire on warm summer evenings. Then Rome, where there was a temple built under a
porches, even to the deposita of the apostles themselves. spreading beech-tree, sacred to Jupiter, under the there is the amaranth, yellow and purple, the latter
Princes, indeed, and other illustrious persons, founders name of Fagutalis.
of churches, &c. had sometimes their dormitories near powdered with gold ; and, above all, the dahlia
Innumerable are the testimonies I might produce the Basilicæ and cathedrals, a little before St Augus. the splendid stranger, unknown to our ancestors, in behalf of groves and woods out of tlie poets, Vir- tine's time, as appears by his book, De Cure pro Mormaking, with its varieties, a garden by itself, the gil, Gratius, Ovid, Horace, Claudian, Statius, Silius, tuis, and the concession was not easily obtained. very sunset of the declining year.
We are sorry we
and others of later times, especially the divine Pe- Constantine, son to the great Constantine himself,
trarch (for Scriptorum chorus omnis amet nemus), were did not, without leave, inhume his royal father in the could not avail ourselves of a second opportunity, and I minded to swell this charming subject beyond the church porch of that august fabric, though built by see the magnificent shew of it, last Wednesday, at th limits of a chapter. I think only to take notice that that famous emperor: and yet after this, other great Surrey Zoological Gardens; but we saw it in our theatrical representations, such as were those of the persons placed their sepulchres no nearer than towards
Ionian, called Andria, the scenes of pastorals, and mind's eye, and most magnificent it was.
the church walls, whilst in the body of the church, the like innocent rural entertainments, were of old they presumed no further for a long time after, as The renewal of our acquaintance with Evelyn's adorned and trimmed up è ramis et frondibus, cum may be proved from the Capitula of Charlemagne; “Silva” has made it impossible to us to resist giving racemis et corymbis, and frequently represented in nor hardly in the city till the time of Gregory the another passage from that reverend and enthusiastic groves, as the learned Scaliger shers. Here the Great; and when connived at, it was complained of.
most beloved and coy mistress of Apollo rooted; and We find it forbidden (as to churches) by the empework, in which he does
in the walks and shades of trees the noblest raptures rors Gratian, Valentinian and Theodosius; and so in
have been conceived, and poets have composed verses the code, where the sanction runs thus: Nemo Apos[The passage we have marked in Italics would actions. Here orators, as we have shewed, have which have animated men to heroic and glorious tolorum vel Martyrum Seden humanis corporibus eristi
met esse concessam, &c. And now, after all this, have done honour to any poet. ]
made their panegyrics, historians grave relations, and would it not raise our indignation to see so many ex
the profound philosophers have loved here to pass tortioners, luxurious, profane, and very mean persons, The poets thought of no other heaven upon earth their lives in repose and contemplation.
without merit, not only affecting, but permitted to or elsewhere; for when Anchises was setting forth the felicity of the other life to his son, the most lively Nor were the groves thus frequented by the great lay their carcases, not in the nave and body of the description he could make of it was to tell him scholars and the great wits only, but by the greatest
church only, but in the very chancel, next the com-
munion table, ripping up the pavements, removing
the seats, &c. for some little gratification of those who
should have more respect to decency at least, if for no
cypress and And when Æneas had travelled so far to find those other umbrageous recesses. It was under a
vast The fields, the mountains, the high-way sides and happy abodes,
oak, growing in the park of St Vincent, near Paris, gardens, were thought honourable enough for those
funeral purposes. Devenere locos lætos, et amæna vireta
Abraham and the patriarchs (as. Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas.
causes, and do justice to such as resorted thither. we have shewed) had their caves and criptæ in the
And we read of a solemn treaty of peace held under fields, set about with trees. The kings of Judah had They came to groves of happy souls the rest, a flourishing elm between Gusors and Treves, which their sepulchres in their palaces, and not in the sancTo evergreens, the dwellings of the blest. was afterwards felled by the French King Philip in tuary and temple : and our most blessed Saviour's
a rage against Henry II, for not agreeing to it. sepulchre was in a garden, which indeed seems to be Such a prospect has Virgil given us of his Ely. Nay, they have been sometimes known to crown most proper and eligible, as we have already shewed: sium; and therefore wise and great persons had al
their kings under a goodlie tree, or in some venera- nor even to this day do the Greek and Eastern ways there sweet opportunities of recess, their Domos ble grove, where they had their stations and conven- Christians bury in churches, as is well known. Silva (Houses in the Wood), as we read (King$ tions; for so they chose Abimaleck. --See Tostatus vii. 2), which were thence called Houses of Royal upon Judg. ix. 6. Refreshment; or, as the Septuagint 'Oixes Spouž,
The late elegant and accomplished Sir W. Temple,
though he laid not his whole body in bis garden, denot much unlike the lodges in divers of our noble
The Athenians were wont to consult of their posited the better part of it, his heart, there; and if men's parks and forest-walks; which reminds me of his choice in another poem.
gravest matters and public concernments in groves. my executors will gratify ine in what I have desired,
Famous for these assemblies were the Ceraunian, I wish my corpse may be interred as I have bespoke Pallas ques condidit arces
and at Rome, the Lucus Petelinus, the Falentinus, them; not at all out of singularity or for want of Ipsa colat; nobis placeant ante omnia Sylvæ. and others, in which there was held that renowned a dormitory (of which there is an ample one annexed In lofty towers let Pallas take her rest,
parliament after the defeat of the Gauls by M. Pom- to the parish church), but for other reasons not here Whilst shady groves 'bove all things please us best.
pilius; for it was supposed that in places so sacred necessary to trouble the reader with, what I have said
HONOUR TO THE TREES.
in general being sufficient. However, let them order it as they think fit, so it be not in the church or chancel.
Plato, as we noted, permitted trees to be planted over sepulchres, to obumbrate the departed; but with better reason we adorn their graves with flowers and redolent plants, just emblems of the life of man, which has been compared in Holy Scripture to those fading beauties, whose roots being buried in dishonour, rise again in glory.
Of this kind, and the like antiquity, we could multiply instances; nor is the custom yet altogether extinct in my own native country of Surrey, and near my dwelling, where the maidens yearly plant and deck the graves of their defunct sweethearts with rosebushes, of which I have given account in the learned Mr Gibson's edition of Camden;* and for the rest, see Mr Sumner " Of Garden Burial," and the learned Dr Cave's Primitive Christianity.
At Ockley, in Surrey, there is a certain custom, observed time out of mind, of planting rose-trees upon the graves, especially by the young men and maids who have lost their lovers, so that this church-yard is now full of them. It is the more remarkable, because we may observe it to have been anciently used both among the Greeks and Romans, who were so very religious in it that we find it often annexed as a codicil to their wills, as appears by an old inscription at Ravenna, and another at Milan, by which they ordered roses to be yearly strewed and planted upon their graves. Hence that of Propertius, Lib. I. El. 2., implying the usage of burying amidst roses, "Et tenerâ poneret ossa rosá;" and old Anacreon, speaking of it, says that it does Vexpois a pre-protect the dead. Camd. Brit. vol. i., p. 236.
It is the universal practice in South Wales to strew roses and all kinds of flowers over the graves of their departed friends. Shakspeare has put the following lines into the mouth of a young prince, who had been educated, under the care of a supposed shepherd, in that part of the island:With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale Primrose; nor The azur'd Harebell, like thy veins; Lo, nor The leaf of Eglantine; which, not to slander, Outsweeten'd not thy breath.-Cymbeline.
He comes over-night to see to the sticks and coal; and just tastes how the old ale is, and pronounces it capital. He takes a crust and a half-pint or so, to recruit his strength against the next day's work. He looks out his candles and sees whether the malt be ready ground, and in the right place. If a careful man, he also fills his copper. He is generally a man of great fore-knowledge-anticipating over-night that he shall want something to eat before breakfast in the morning. He, therefore, takes a store of provisions and a bottle of the old ale, with the key of the brewhouse, to be in readiness.
The morning's work commences at two, and by the time you have arisen, he has mashed down the malt in your vessel, and the eating and drinking in his own! and is now ready for breakfast. After breakfast he lets off the wort, of which he tastes, to see how it is; and takes another pint of the old before luncheon. At luncheon he takes some cold meat and a little more of the old, and another pint between that time and dinner. Before dinner he inquires about the hops, and always advises you to have the highest in price. He generally gathers a short quantity-because (as he says) too much water spoils the beer. At dinner time the beer is ready to boil, and you are all in the fidgets lest he should let the copper boil over whilst trying another pint of the old. He has another at four o'clock, and another or two at supper.
The new beer having been set a working for the night, the next morning early the brewer is with you again to see that all is right; when he will call in two of his old cronies, Jack Drinkwater and Tom Hatemalt, to help him taste of the new. He will then ask for another pint of the old, and prepares for tunning, tasting of the new all the time, whilst you ejaculate to yourself inwardly, "I wonder how he finds room for both old and new."
A few days elapse, when he calls again to "hop down," and he takes his fee with another drop of the old, drinking your health at the same time, and wishing (you have no doubt conscientiously) that the new beer may be no worse than the old.
ONE OF GOETHE'S UNTRANSLATED
[We are indebted for the following story to the kindness of a friend who is conversant with German, and with the writings of the illustrious author. It is not given us as one of his best, but under the just impression, that any production of so great a writer would not be unwelcome. Much of it is indeed not unworthy of him, but the conclusion is surely otherwise unless more was intended to come of it. A mistress
so much in the habit of setting her will above her considerateness, would have made but a perilous wife.]
Two neighbour children, of considerable families, a boy and a girl, of proportionate ages for being one day man and wife, were brought up together in this pleasant prospect, and the parents on both sides rejoiced in their future union. But it was soon remarked that the project appeared to miscarry; a singular aversion discovering itself between these two excellent natures. Perhaps they were too much alike. Both self-subsistent, distinct in their wishes, firm in their purposes; each individually the beloved and honoured of their playmates; ever antagonists when met together, ever building up for themselves alone, ever mutually destroying where they crossed each other, not striving towards one goal, but ever contending for one vantage; thoroughly well-disposed and estimable, and only perverse, even mischievous, in regard to one another.
This wonderful relation showed itself already in their childish sports, showed itself with their growing years. And as it is common for boys to play at war, to divide themselves into parties, and give battle to each other; so, on one occasion, did the audacious spirited girl place herself at the head of a band, and fight with so much vigour and bitterness, that the opposite party must have been shamefully put to flight, had not her personal antagonist conducted himself with great bravery, and finally disarmed his enemy, and taken her prisoner. But even then she continued to defend herself so furiously, that to preserve his eyes, and, at the same time, do the fair foe no harm, he was obliged to pull the silk kerchief from his neck, and bind her hands with it behind her back.
This she never could forgive him; nay, she schemed and attempted so perseveringly in secret to do him mischief, that the parents, who had long had an eye on these strange vivacities, came to an explanation with each other, and resolved to part the two hostile beings, and renounce their favourite hopes.
The boy soon distinguished himself under his new circumstances. All kinds of instruction took effect on him. The wishes of his friends and his own inclination determined him to the military profession. Wherever he went he was loved and esteemed. His manful nature seemed to work only for the wellbeing and delight of others; and without being distinctly conscious of it, he was right glad at heart to have lost the only adversary nature had ever appointed him.
The girl, on the other hand, stept at once into a new position. Her years, her increasing stature, and still more a certain inward feeling, withdrew her from the boisterous sports she had hitherto carried on in company of boys. On the whole, there seemed something wanting to her; there was nothing round her which would have been worth the hating; and loveable she had yet found no one.
very young;-all this prepossessed her in his favour; besides which, habit, and their external relations, already taken for granted by the world, contributed their share. She had so often been called bride, that in the end she took herself for such; and neither to herself nor to any other did it occur that farther trial was necessary, when she exchanged rings with the individual who had so long passed for her bridegroom.
The quiet course which the whole affair had taken was not accelerated even by their bethrothment. Al was allowed on both sides to go on as heretofore ; they rejoiced in their long joint existence, and were disposed to enjoy the present fair weather, as the
vernal season of a future more earnest life.
Meanwhile the absent had cultivated himself at all points, had obtained meritorious promotion in his vocation, and came on leave of absence to visit his home. In a quite natural, yet strange manner, he again stood in the presence of his fair neighbour. She had latterly been entertaining none but friendly, bride-like, domestic sentiments; she was in harmony with all that surrounded her; she believed herself happy, and after a certain fashion actually was sơ. But now, for the first time after a great while, was something again opposed to her: it was not hateful, she was become incapable of hate; nay, the childish hatred, which, properly speaking, had been but a blind recognition of inward worth, expressed itself now in glad astonishment, delighted looks, obliging confessions, half willing, half unwilling, but irresistible approximation; and all this was mutual. A long Even separation gave occasion for long discourses. their former childish unreason served the now enlightened pair as an amusing remembrance; and it seemed to be regarded as a matter of necessity that they should atone at least for that mischievous hatred by all manner of kind attentions; should no longer leave their violent misunderstanding without openly expressed acknowledgment.
On the youth's side all this kept within the bounds of a wise moderation. His rank, his connexions, his pursuits, his ambition, found him such abundant employment, that he accepted the friendship of the fair bride as a grateful addition, without on that account regarding her with any personal views, or envying the bridegroom his possession; with whom he was furthermore on the best terms.
With her the case was very different. She seemed to herself awakened out of a dream. Contention with her young neighbour had been her earliest passion; and this violent contention had been, but under the form of antipathy, a violent, and as it were instinctive inclination. It even figured in her remem brance no otherwise than as though she had always loved him. She smiled at that hostile onset, sword in hand; she persuaded herself into a recollection of the pleasantest feelings, when he disarmed her; she imagined herself as having experienced the greatest bliss when he bound her; and all that she had attempted for the purpose of hurting and annoying him, now represented itself to her merely as a harmless expedient to attract his notice. She regretted that separation; she mourned the sleep into which she had fallen; she hated the stupid, dreamy habitude, through which she had realized so insignificant a bridegroom; she was perplexed, doubly perplexed, forward, backward, whichever way she viewed it.
Could any one have unravelled and taken part in her sentiments, which she kept entirely secret, he would not have been disposed to blame her: for in truth the bridegroom could not stand comparison with the neighbour for a moment, when one saw them together. If you could not refuse a certain trust to the one, the other excited your fullest confidence; if the one was an agreeable acquaintance, the other you wished for an associate; and if you thought of higher sympathies, of extraordinary accidents of fortune, there was ground to doubt of the one, where the other gave complete assurance. For such lineaments of character women have by instinct a peculiar tact; and they have reason, as well as opportunity, to cultivate it.
The more our lovely bride nourished such
thoughts in her secret heart, and the less that any one was in a condition to urge what could tell to the bridegroom's advantage, what propriety, what duty seemed to counsel and command, nay, what an unalterable nacessity seemed to exact beyond recall; so much the more did the tender heart indulge its partiality; and while, on the one hand, world, family, bridegroom, her own promise, were so many ties of indissoluble obligation; on the other, the aspiring youth made no secret of his thoughts, plans, and pros pects, but conducted himself towards her as a faithful and never once-tender brother; and now there was
even a talk of his immediate departure. Such being the posture of affairs, it seemed as though the spirit of her early childhood again awoke in her with all its splenetic violence, and now, on a higher stage angrily prepared itself for working to more serious and destructive purpose. She resolved on dying, to punish the once hated and now so violently loved, for his want of sympathy: since she could not possess him, at least she would marry herself to his imagination, to his repentance, for ever. He should never be delivered from her dead image, should never cease to reproach himself that he had not recognised her sentiments, had not investigated and appreciated them.*
This singular phrenzy accompanied her wherever She concealed it under all sorts of forms, and although people perceived something singular about her, no one was attentive or discerning enough to discover the real inward cause.
Meanwhile, friends, relations, acquaintances, busied themselves in contriving all manner of festivities. Scarcely a day passed that something new and unexpected was not struck out. Scarcely was there a lovely spot in the province that had not been decorated and prepared for the reception of many joyous guests. Our young wayfarer also wished, before his departure, to perform his part, and invited the young pair, with an intimate family circle, to a pleasure excursion on the water. The party went on board a large, fine, richly ornamented vessel, one of those yachts that offer the accommodation of a small parlour and several rooms, and pretend to carry, on water, the conveniences of land.
raise her up, and carry her; both were violently swept
Away they sailed, with music, up the broad river. The company, during the mid-day heat, had assembled below to amuse themselves with games of chance and skill. The young host, who never could remain inactive, had placed himself at the helm to relieve the old skipper, who, on his side, was gone to sleep ; and just at that particular time our steersman, his substitute, needed all his caution, as he neared a place where two islands shortened the bed of the river, protruding their flat, gravel shores, now on this side, now on that, preparing a dangerous passage. The careful and attentive steersman was almost tempted to awake the master, but he trusted in himself, and bore towards the strait. In the same moment his fair enemy appeared on deck with a flower-garland on her hair. She took it off, and cast it towards the steersman. "Take this," she cried, "for a remembrance." "Do not disturb me," he called back to her, while he picked up the garland; "I have need of all my strength and attention." "I will disturb thee no further," she cried; "thou seest me for the last time!" So saying, she hastened to the fore deck of the ship, and sprang from thence into the water. Several voices called out "Help, help! she is drowning!" He was in the dreadfullest plexity. At the noise awoke the old skipper; he seized the rudder; the younger resigned it to him; but it was no longer time for changing masters: the ship stranded, and, in the same instant, casting off the most cumbersome of his garments, he plunged into the water, and swam after his fair enemy. The water is a friendly element for him who is acquainted with it, and knows how to manage it. It bore him up; and the skilful swimmer used it with mastery. He had soon reached the beauty that drifted before him; he caught hold of her, managed to
She now collected herself, and remarked for the
for the clothes he had on were still drenched and
The young couple consulted with each other He presented the youth, and she the lady, with their respective wedding apparel, which still hung there all complete, equipping them in right bridal fashion from head to foot. In a short time our two adventurers were not merely clothed, but full dressed. They looked quite charmingly; they stared at each other when they came together: and, with excessive emotion, yet unable to help a sort of glad laughter at their masquerade, fell passionately into each others' Youth, health, and love, made it seem as if they had undergone no danger, no anguish.
I see!" cried the fathers. The saved cast themselves on their knees before them. "Your children!" exclaimed the pair. "Pardon!" cried the damsel. "Give us your blessing!" cried the youth. "Give us your blessing!" cried both, while the spectators all remain mute in astonishment. "Your blessing!" resounded for the third time, and who could have refused it?
DR JOHNSON'S FATHER.
THE following curious memorandum is from a new provincial magazine, published at Worcester, and entitled the Analyst. We are heartily glad to see such a publication, and congratulate it on the great improvement manifested in its second number.
Dr Johnson's father seems to have been "a good fellow;" and as for that matter, so was his illustrious son, for all his dogmatical ways. The document before us, even though upon a matter of business, is full of bon hommie. And what renders it more interesting, is, that you see in it some evidences of the tracks of reading that helped to influence the character of his son. Sons, in truth, are made up, more or less, of the character of their parents and other predecessors, with ulterior modifications, of course; but still always with an indelible reference to those first causes. A book on the parental relationships of men of genius is a desideratum. It would be an addition, not merely to the curiosities of biography, but to the groundworks of moral and social knowledge.
The countryman, who had heard the story of the stranded boat, hastened without further question towards the shore. The vessel came safely sailing along; it had been with much trouble got loose. They proceeded on at a venture, in hope of again finding the lost ones. When the countryman had with cries and signs attracted the notice of those on board, he ran to a point where an advantageous landing-place presented itself, and ceased not making signals and
"A Catalogue of choice Books in all Faculties, Divinity, History, Travels, Law, Physic, Mathematicks, Philosophy, Poetry, &c. together with Bibles, Common Prayers, Shop Books, Pocket-books, &c., also fine French Prints for Staircases and large Chimney Pieces, Maps, large and small. To be sold by Auction, or he who bids most, at the Talbot in Sidbury, Worcester, the sale to begin on Friday, the twenty-first this instant March, exactly at six in the afternoon, and continue till all be sold. Catalogues are given out at the place of sale, or by Michael Johnson, of Lichfield.
"CONDITIONS OF SALE.
I. That he who bids most is the buyer, but if any difference arise which the company cannot decide, the book or books to be put to sale again.
"II. That all the books, for aught we know, are perfect; but if any appear otherwise before taken away, the buyer to have the choice of taking or leaving them.
"III. That no person advance less than 6d. each bidding, after any book comes to 10s. nor put in any book or set of books under half value.
Quite lost in one another, it was some time before they could bring themselves to think of the anxiety, the cares of those they had left behind; and hardly Note. Any gentleman that cannot attend could they themselves think without anxiety of the may send his orders, and they shall be faithfully exemanner in which they should again meet them. "Shall we fly-shall we hide ourselves?" said the youth. "We will remain together," said she, hang. ing about his neck,
"Printed for Mich. Johnson, 1717-18. "To all Gentlemen, Ladies, and others, in and near Worcester. I have had several auctions in your neighbourhood, as Gloucester, Tewkesbury, Evesham, &c. with success, and am now to address myself, and try my fortune with you. You must not wonder that I begin every day's sale with small and common books; the reason is, a room is sometime a-filling, and persons of address and business, seldom coming fast, they are entertained till we are full; they are ever the last books of the best kind of that sort, for ordinary families and young persons, &c. But in the body of the Catalogue you will find Law, Mathematicks, History, and for the learned in Divinity, there are Drs South, Taylor, Tillotson, Beveridge, and Flavel, &c. the best of that kind; and to please the Ladies I have added store of fine pictures and paper hangings; and by the way I would desire them to take notice that the pictures shall always be put up by noon of that day they are to be sold, that they may be viewed by daylight. I have no more but to wish you pleased, and myself a good sale, who am, "Your humble servant,
These impulses, which are painted with great truth, are surely very unamiable, and do not warrant the air of prospective comfort and security given to the end of the story.-ED.
calling out, till the vessel turned in towards the shore;
was allowed them to sip a little Malmsey. The POISONING AT A FEAST.
guarded with so much care into the little cup we King then begged the master of the house to give have described, after having first carefully wiped it In the following extract, the simultaneous progress himself no more trouble, but to partake of the meals with a fine clean linen. The golden drops were of the courtly feasting and deathly sin are mingled he had provided for his guests. This was a sign that already sparkling on the glittering metal, when on a and contrasted in so skilful a manner, that its neces
etiquette should be no longer observed, and an invia sudden he felt himself pushed so violently that a part tation to convivial mirth and hilarity.
of the costly liquor, contained in the cup, he held in sary length has not deterred us from introducing it
When Kmita, following the monarch's command,
his band was spilt on the ground. He looked anto our readers,
took a place opposite to him, the restraint which tijí grily around, and saw standing before him the very Sigismund Augustus, King of Poland and Grand now had pervaded the assembly began to disappear,
man whom Kmita had been on the point of treating Duke of Lithuania, had married Barbara Radziwill, bowls and dishes.
and many a jest was heard between the clattering of in so unceremonious a manner; he appeared quite Even the Queen-mother seemed
unconcerned, and instead of making the slightest exa Lithuanian lady, much against the approbation of to partake of the general hilarity that reigned at the
cuse to the page for his awkwardness, he stared on a great part of his Polish subjects; still more against table, and lent herself with apparent good humour bim with an air of stupid insolence. Lacki was going the wishes of his mother, Bona Sforza, a sort of into the lively conversation which the King en
to scold him for his impertinent behaviour, when he deavoured to maintain ; she even addressed herself
addressed him in the following manner:
Ay, my ferior Catherine de Medicis.
manages, how- sometimes to Barbara ; and the King, whose heart pretty lordling, you make but a sorry cup-bearer; ever, to quiet all opposition, and she becomes the was always open to every kind feeling, began to
every one may see by the awkward manner in which crowned Queen of Poland. A young friend of hers cherish the hope that time, necessity, and habit, you perform the service that you were not born for
it. would overcome by degrees the animosity which emis to be betrothed to a nobleman in her suite, and
You high-born lordlings may understand how to the new Queen and the King interest themselves partook less of this agreeable illusion, for women do bittered his domestic happiness. The young Queen drink, but to manage the cup handsomely is some
thing quite different.” The irritated page was going greatly in the ceremony. An old noble, Peter not easily deceive their own sex; she would not,
to answer this speech with a hard blow, and his comKmita, Grand Marshal, originally one of the however, destroy the delusive joy in which she saw
rades, attracted by the noise, were ready to join him Queen's severest opposers, but now quite reconciled that her husband was indulging himself, and answered
in giving a good thrashing to Waclaw Siewrak, who Bona's address with animation and courtesy.
seemed to be purposely created for that kind of to his mistress, shews his friendly zeal by begging that the entertainment to be made on the occasion the conversation had lasted some time, “that they are
“We pity the ladies," said Sigismund Augustus, after
amusement, when the first blast of the bugles re.
sounded in the great hall, and all the pages hastened may be permitted to take place at his castle; and, obliged to forego the best seasoning of a cheerful re
to their duty. accordingly, he has the honour of receiving the past, the most powerful enemy to care and anxiety,
Waclaw Siewrak's assurance increased when he young couple and their royal friends. one which shiews the character in its true light, and
found himself left almost alone with Lacki, who holdbanishes all grief from the oppressed soul. Corpo di ing fast his flask and cup, threatened him with words, A banquet is laid out in the hall, and the servants Bacco ! our lady queen resembles not in this respect
and he exclaimed in a most insolent tone of voice, are in waiting ; the pages are expecting their high- the ladies of her ancestors, who, till the time of “ Strike, only strike! it is nothing extraordinary that born masters and mistresses. Among the latter is horns filled with mead, as well as their fathers and Wladislaw Jagellon, quafred at the festivals of Lada two servants are fighting with each other, and you
wear a livery as well as I do.” “ Down, cur !" cried young Lacki, a youth who had formerly, at the peril brothers."
“ And even were it the custom now, I Lacki, “or thou shalt repent it.” “ What shall I of his life, saved the young Queen from the fury of could no longer follow it,” answered Barbara, laugh- repent?” retorted Siewrak, with a stammering voice, a urochs, or bison. Since then he has concealed a ing, "since through the affection of my sovereign and and drawing closer to the page ; “ for a fight with
fists I am a match with every one, but your little hopeless and most respectful passion for her, and is spouse I have lately become a Polish woman by
name, though I have long been so in my heart. The sword is to-day out of the question ; for it is royal now, to his great grief, about to be removed to a
Polish ladies despise the gifts of Bacchus, as we have peace, and I suppose you have no wish to lose your higher post than the loved office of cup-bearer to his now proof in the example of the first among them,
little white hand.” The youth's anger now got the honoured mistress. While these people are still her majesty our lady mother, and our princely cou
better of him; he set down the flask and cup which sins.”
“ Oh, you must not speak of our little cousin waiting, a fellow, a discarded servant of old Kmita Helena," exclaimed Sigismund Augustus; "she has
eld in his trembling hands, and accosting his
boorish antagonist in a menacing attitude, said, “ Be. (the master of the castle), now belonging to the now to do with another duty, and a more dangerous ware, low-born knave, that I forget not that it is Queen-mother, is observed officiously bustling about one, too, than that which lurks in this cup, which I
beneath a nobleman to bandy blows with such a mean the hall. He is a notorious rascal; and Kmita com
will empty in silence to her welfare.”
scoundrel as thou art, and that I do not give thee majesty anticipates us,” interrupted Bona: “it is not
a cut to match that red scar which is on thy ugly ing into the hall, orders his willing servants to turn yet time for the Pirat, and we will join in it also to
face, and one that will not be cured until thou art him out. The fellow first bullies, then begs to honour the young lady of Podolia.” My royal hanged.” “ I have told you once, high-born Sir Page, whrisper a word to the Grand Marshal. Kmita lord,” said Helena, bowing, “ if I should express the that cuts are to-day out of the question,” replied the listens, looks sorely displeased, but molests him no
feeling of my heart by drinking, I might easily fall other; " we are not now amongst bushes, where a
into a suspicion of ingratitude; but if your majesty worthy lord's servant may catch anything of that, in The guests enter, and the feast begins.
commands, I shall do my best, if my mother will a manner he himself knows not how. Only do your The company entered the banqueting hall, pre- permit my doing to day a thing so unusual.” “ You duty, and if you do not understand it let me teach it ceded by the Seneschal of Kmita's household, who are leaving to day in some respects my jurisdiction.”
to you.” And saving these last words, he stretched held uplifted his ebony staff, ornamented with a sil- answered the Princess of Mazovia, in a manner suffi- out his hand towards the little flask. His scar, and ver head. Queen Barbara advanced with the King cient to damp the real or apparent hilarity which
his mention of the bushes, brought back to Stanis. on her right hand, and on her left Kmita, on whose reigned in the assembly; “so you are entitled to law's memory the affair in the gardens of Lobzou, arm she was slightly leaning. Immediately after make any use of your new liberty which seems good,
and a sudden idea crossed his mind that he might be
the same man that he had then cut over the face. He her came the Queen-mother, between the Duke of either to you, or to those who had graciously offered Prussia and the Court Marshal Firley; the Princess to take my place with you.” Barbara perceived a
pushed back the impertinent fellow with all his of Mazovia was conducted by the Duke of Pomera- light cloud on the brow of her husband, and ex- strength, and laid his hand upon his little sword; nia, and her daughter by the Prince of Brandenberg, claimed in a merry tone, “We must not permit our
but before he was able to draw it, Siewrak overturned and by her betrothed, the Starost of Samborz. The excellent host to suppose we have slighted his liquors,
his flask, so that all its contents were spilt on the rest of the company proceeded according to their re- and the lady of Podolia will forgive her daughter if ground, and laughing aloud, he left the hall reeling, spective ranks. The Bishop of Cracow, in whose she follows the example given by the queens. Is it but quickening his steps as soon as he had passed the diocese the castle of Wisnietz was situated, said not true, my lord duke,” said she, aildressing the
door. Lacki was so carried away by the desire of ingrace, and the guests sate down in the order of pre- Duke of Prussia, “ that in your country the ladies ficting an exemplary punishment on the mean fellow cedence in which they entered. When the first entirely abandon to the gentlemen the worshipping who had taunted him, that he forgot his duty for a course was over, the curtains which concealed the or- of Bacchus, as we do in Poland?" “ Your majesty is
moment, and ran after him with his drawn sword; but namental dishes were withdrawn at a signal from the right,” answered Albert of Brandenberg, with great the object of his wrath soon disappeared in the maze master of the house, and displayed a great number courtesy; “in our country also the ladies devotethem- of the winding corridors. of sugar ornaments and sweetmeats, arranged in form selves only to the service of the powerful deity of love, It was with much trouble that the young Lacki of different animals, towers, trees, &c. every one hav- though perhaps his shafts are not so sharply pointed as
found his way through the winding corridors to the ing either the initials of Sigismund Augustus and they are in this country, whilst we are often obliged to
room he had left; and when he had entered it all Barbara, or the arms of Poland and Lithuania. invoke the assistance of the other deity, in order to
the attendants had disappeared, and the goblet of his Before each of the royal and princely personages was
gain resolution for supporting the cares of life.” The royal mistress was gone. Vexed to the utmost by placed a basket wrought in gold, and filled with little conversation continued in the same strain; many so untoward an event, and puzzled what to do, he slices of bread, and a similar one of silver, for every compliments were exchanged among the company, of approached the door of the banqueting hall, supfour of the other guests. The most distinguished of which the betrothed lovers and the young Lacki re- posing that one of his fellow-pages was performing the company had napkins of gold and silver bro
ceived their full share. The bravery of the page was his neglected duty; but he saw that all the company, cade, and the others of silk, all which became after mentioned in the most honourable manner, and the
with goblets in their hands, were waiting for his the repast the property of the attendants, according king, as well as the young queen, frequently ex
queen, who stood without having a cup, and visibly to the custom of the time. At the commencement pressed to him, by flattering allusions, that it was for
surprised at his absence. How could he excuse the of the dinner, when the first dish was presented to
the last time he now performed his present office, and neglect of a duty which, as the queen had graciously the King, the Grand Marshal, who stood behind the that he should be immediately exalted to a higher signified to him, he was now performing for the last chair of his master, took the golden dish from the
rank, as a reward of the repeated proofs of his fidelity. time. An idea flushed on his mind that all this rash hands of his Seneschal, and dipped into it a bit of Meanwhile the banquet drew nearly to a close, the
behaviour of the apparently drunken fellow was bread, which, having tasted, he cast it into a large desert was placed on the table, and the moment ar
nothing but an arranged trick to get possession of silver basket, held by a servant, and with a deep rived when the solemn toasts were to be pledged. the cup entrusted to his care; he therefore returned obeisance presented it to the King. Some noblemen Kinita arose from his seat, in order himself to present
once more to pursue the thief, in order to bring him belonging to his household performed the same serthe great cup to the monarch; the seneschal lifted his
with the cup, as the best means of excusing his negvice for the Queens. When Sigismund Augustus staff, the trumpeters prepared themselves for the ligence. He was now, however, no more fortunate had finished eating, the Grand Marshal took a richly mighty blast which was to be sounded when the king than he had been before, and met with nobody in the wrought cup, poured a little of its contents into the should approach the cup to his lips, and the pages intricate corridors through which he passed. The hollow of his hand, tasted it, and after having wiped kept themselves in readiness to fulfill the orders of blasts of the bugles which resounded from the banhis hand, presented the cup to the monarch. Whilst the ladies. Barbara turned to Lacki, and said, “ Sir
queting-hall bewildered him entirely, by the idea the King was drinking all the company arose from Lacki, may it please you to take this trouble once
that they were waiting for him; he completely lost their places, but reseated themselves immediately more, it is the last time that you will have to serve his way, and ran like a madman through many pasafter, except Kmita, who continued standing. The us in this capacity.”
sages and staircases till he found himself in a gallery Queen and the other ladies declined the cups, con- The pages hastily passed into the room where the with a door at each end of it. He chose one of formably to the custom, which, at that time, permit- sideboards were placed, in order to fill the goblets thein at random, and entering it found himself ted them to drink only pure water and a decoction destined for the use of the ladies. Stanislaw
Lacki in a little hall, which led to an apparently dark of orange-flowers or chicory, except at toasts, when
was going to pour the contents of the flask he had room by a door which was not quite closed.
"Hold me, Helena, I am strangely unwell." The amazed bride exerted herself to support the swooning queen, when her mother accosted her, saying, "It seems that her Majesty is unwell; it is necessary to call for her women, who will understand how to take care of her better than you do." The crowd and the noise which reigned in the hall had for a moment prevented the king from seeing what had occurred to Barbara; but when Lucy Ostrorog, who hastened to the assistance of her mistress, burst out into a cry of terror, he flew to his beloved, and embracing, pressed her to his heart. "I am ill, my husband," said Barbara, in a whisper; "I feel myself very ill-ill unto death." Sigismund Augustus was plunged into the greatest consternation; his eye caught the grand marshal; but he saw on his countenance the unfeigned expression of astonishment and displeasure; he then cast down his eyes on her whom he held in his arms, as if afraid to direct a look of suspicion to another side.
He was going to open it, in hopes to find somebody who would set him right, when he heard two voices conversing in a foreign language. He stopped for a moment, and heard some very strange words uttered in Italian. "Make haste," said one of the voices,, sounding hollow, as if out of a vault, and trembling, as if the jaws of the speaker were chattering with cold: "Make haste, I say; it is cold here below as on the top of Etna; make haste, in the name of the devil, that I may return to the daylight." Directly, directly," replied the other, who, judging by the sound, seemed to be nearer, and who till now was muttering something to himself, "have a little patience, if you wish me to count the drops. Seven, eight." Eleven," said the first person; "eleven-not a single drop more nor less; this time it has succeeded well, and the old woman has provided the right thing, which she does not always do; but hasten to finish it, for who knows but this cursed page may come; your servant is a dolt, who does things only by halves, and it is cold here as in a grave." "Eight, nine, ten,”— continued the other." In the grave you will have it, perhaps, much warmer, my learned master." "Do you not hear something rustling, Assano? It sounds as if the sand on the pavement was pressed by some light footsteps." "Eleven." It sounded again. "Now it is ready, take it."
At this moment Stanislaw peeped into the dark room, and saw a withered trembling arm stretched from the cellar below, as if to receive something. "Your hand shakes so that you will spill it," said Assano, who was standing outside: "hasten, hasten, ere the page gets loose. Do you hear the blast of trumpets?" Saying this, he turned, and Lacki saw the eup of Barbara trembling in his hand. With one spring the page stood in the middle of the room close to the opening of the cellar, and the arm which had been stretched out from it immediately disappeared. He accosted in a bold manner the old man, who stared on him with a look glaring with fury, and said, "What are you doing, ye rake-hells?" "Wherefore have the evil stars led thee hither, thou son of misfortune? What dost thou seek here?" retorted
Assano. " My queen's goblet!" exclaimed the youth: "that is it; give it me directly, or fear my sword!" Fear thee, boy!" answered Assano, with rage and scorn; and having placed the goblet on the ground with his right hand, seized the page with his left, and pressed him with a gigantic force. Stanislaw sought in vain to make use of his weapon; in vain he struggled to free himself from the iron grasp of the hoary villain; he could only utter some words of complaint and threatening from his suffocating breast. A double edged knife glittered in the Neapolitan's hand, and it was instantly plunged up to the haft in the bosom of the young Lacki, whose complaints died away in a low murmur, and the flush of anger which covered his cheeks turned into a deadly paleness. Still he whispered in a scarcely audible voice, "Farewell, Hippolyte! Barbara, farewell!" The eyes of the faithful Stanislaw closed in death, his tender limbs hung powerless in the clutch of the assassin, who bent over the lifeless body, and whispered in his ear, "Thou wert called Lacki, I think. Go then, and when thou seest thy father, tell him that thou also hast known Hassan, although half a century later than he !" "Blood! blood again!" resounded from the cellar, in an agonizing voice, "give, give it me quickly, for I cannot remain longer in this place of horror." "Take it, cowardly wretch," replied Assano; "this boy's death has greatly encreased our reckonings." He then seized the still warm corpse by its flowing hair, and dragged it to the door of the cellar, and threw it into the deep pit.
Meanwhile Kmita pledged the usual toast The welfare of the king and of the royal family;" and custom required that the monarch should answer it by pledging the health of the master of the house, and that of the senate and of the equestrian order; but Barbara was still waiting with encreasing surprise for her goblet. The music played continually to fill the unexpected pause, and a large circle of distinguished personages closely surrounded the young queen, when an arm dressed in her colours, blue and silver, reached the long expected goblet out of the crowd. Barbara being in a great hurry, paid no attention to the person by whom it was presented; the bugles sounded a blast; the king expressed his thanks to the master of the house, and his wishes to him, to the senate, and to the equestrian order. The queens and his nephew Albert of Brandenberg joined him in these complimentary expressions; the bugles sounded again, and the cups were quaffed.
Other toasts followed during a quarter of an hour, when at last Sigismund proposed the health of the affianced couple, in which he was joined by every one, except the princess of Mazovia. Barbara arose from her seat and went up to the bride, who had just perceived with great anxiety that her betrothed had absented himself; she embraced Helena, expressing her cordial wishes for the happiness which she her self had so much promoted; when at that moment her arms suddenly lost their strength, and fell down powerless from the embrace; her head leaned on Helena's shoulder, and her discoloured lips whispered,
Dear hill, thou ever in my heart shalt rest
A LONG DESIDERATUM, APPA-
[FROM the Parterre, a cheap and elegant new weekly publication, embellished with excellent wood-cuts. We are glad to echo the opinion expressed by the editor relative to Mr Guilford's fitness for his task, as manifested by the above extract.]
The Beauties of Beaumont and Fletcher. By Horace Guilford. Birmingham; Wrightson and Webb; and Simpkin and Marshall, London.-“ Another batch of beauties!"" exclaims some sour-featured critic, "there is no end to these mutilations of our best authors!" True, there have been many attempts to cull for the use of the indolent, or those who cannot read much for want of leisure, the beauties which abound in the works of our poets and dramatists. But by whom has this been performed? Generally by persons whose reason and judgment are far below the standard of those for whom they presume to select. It is not so with the compiler of this little tome: his writings shew him to be a gentleman of much good taste and sound judgment; and in this selection he has given additional evidence of the possession of both these qualities; but hear what he says for himself, and the motives which induced him to turn compiler.
"Such it might have remained for me, had I not been irresistibly impressed by the conviction, that there was by far too vast a preponderance of good to be overcome of evil.
"That conviction was the sole origin of this little publication; whether the cause was adequate or not those who read must decide. There were rubies, and emeralds, and diamonds thick sown upon a cloth of frieze; I have ventured to pluck them away, with little care for their uncomely ground-work, and to wreath them into a carcanet, which may sparkle before the purest eyes that ever shone in kindred rays."
Our readers will not hesitate to acknowledge, that he who could write thus was well qualified for the task he has so ably performed. "Horace Guilford has, indeed-to borrow the motto from his title-page heaped together
"Infinite riches in a little room."*
• Marlowe's Jew of Malta.
"The most deliberate outrages upon delicacy, the most wanton exuberance of obscenity, unutterable abominations of language and conception, and an absolute wallowing in the sty of impurity, are all so interwoven with the several Plays, as to defy even the skill of a Bowdler himself, and must ever render the productions of Beaumont and Fletcher a sealed book, such as no father of a family could conscientiously put into the hands of his children.
Cordial thanks to the Western Luminary (Exeter). S.'s letter unfortunately came too late for its purpose. But he surely need not regret it. Such an error would not be heeded amidst so much good matter. Correspondents are requested to bear in mind, that we must have their communications a fortnight before they can reckon with certainty upon our ability to give them attention. We are obliged to be considerably before-hand with our day of publi. cation.
E. B. in our next. We are happy to have suggested some walks to him, and do hereby take them. with him in imagination, whether in mud or meadow.
We have received a little volume by John and Mary Saunders, in which there are passages of true poetry. We shall take a speedy opportunity of giving
it further notice.
H. B., who wrote the letter respecting Ghosts, wishes to say, "by way of postscript," that the following passage from Coleridge interprets his feelings on the subject more nearly than his letter appears to have done :—
Ordonio. Believe you then no supernatural influence?
Believe you not that spirits throng around us?
Teresa. Say rather that I have imagined it A possible thing;—and it has soothed my soul As other fancies have, but ne'er seduced me To traffic with the black and frenzied hope That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard. Remorse, act iii, sc. 1. We shall probably have more than one occasion to notice the distinction which our Correspondent makes between Good Nature and Good Temper, and which certainly exists, though we are glad to see his fair friends think otherwise; for of course we are bound to construe their identification of the terms, on the charming side.
We have but just become aware of the lines by "H. C." They shall receive the proper attention.
The Kent Herald says, that the heroine of a corres pondent's ballad, entitled Betty Bolaine, which appeared in the London Journal a week or two back, was one of the "worthies of Canterbury," and that she left an immense property to one of the Prebendaries of the cathedral of that city.
An accident has obliged us to omit "The Romance of Real Life" intended for our present Number.
Giving Pain. In the application of evil for the production of good, never let it be applied for the gratification of mere antipathy; never but as subservient to, and necessary for the only proper ends of punishment, the determent of others by example. In the interest of the offender, reformation is the great object to be aimed at; if this cannot be accomplished, seek to disable him from inflicting the like evil on himself and others. But always bear in mind the maxim which cannot be repeated too often :Inflict as much and no more pain than is necessary to accomplish the purpose of benevolence. Create not evil greater than the evil you exclude.— Bentham's Deontology.
LONDON: Published by H. HOOPER, 13, Pall Mall East. From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.