صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

him, being assured by our Hottentots that, as he had only devoured a small portion of the horse, he would certainly be lurking in the vicinity. The huntsmen speedily assembled to the number of seventeen horsemen, including Mulattoes and Hottentots; bringing with them a goodly number of strong hounds.

WARS WITH WILD BEASTS.

(From Mr Pringle's " African Sketches.")

I SHALL now give some account of our wars with the beasts of prey, allowing, of course, due precedence to the lions. The first actual conflict of the Glen Lynden settlers with this formidable animal, occurred in June, 1821, while I was absent from home, having gone to meet the acting governor at Somerset. The following were the circumstances as detailed to me by the parties present. A horse was missing, belonging to old Hans Blok, one of our mulatto tenents, which, after some search, was discovered by the footpoints to have been killed by a lion. The boldest men of the settlement having assembled to give battle to the spoiler, he was traced to a secluded spot, about a mile or upwards from the place where he had seized his prey. He had carried the horse with him to devour it at its leisure, as is the usual practice of this powerful animal. On the approach of the hunters, the lion, after a little demur, retreated to a thicket in a shallow ravine at no great distance. The huntsmen followed cautiously, and having taken post on an adjoining height, poured volley after volley into the thicket. This bombardment produced no perceptible effect; the lion kept under covert, and refused to give battle; only when the wolf-hounds were sent in to tease him, he drove them forth again with a savage growl, killing two of those who had dared to approach him. At length Mr George Rennie, the leader of the hunt, and a man of daring hardihood, losing patience at this fruitless proceeding, descended from the height and approached the thicket, and threw two large stones into the midst of it. This rash bravado brought forth the lion. He sprung fiercely from his covert, and with another bound would have probably laid our friend prostrate under his paw, but most fortunately, at this critical moment, the attention of the savage beast was attracted by a favourite dog of Mr Rennie's, which ran boldly up to the lion and barked in his face. The poor dog was destroyed in a moment; a single blow from the lion's paw rewarded his generous devotion with death. But that instant was sufficient to save his master. Mr Rennie had instinctively sprung back a pace or two: his comrades on the rock fired at once with effect, and the lion fell dead upon the spot, with eight balls through his body.

Õur next serious rencounter with the monarch of the wilderness occurred about the close of April, 1822. I was then residing on my farm at Eildon, in the bee-hive cabin, which I have described in the preceding chapter. My nearest neighbour at that time was Capt. Cameron, a Scotch officer of the 72nd regiment, who had lately come to occupy the farm immediately below me on the river. I had gone down one evening with another gentleman and two or three female relatives to drink tea with Capt. Cameron. The distance being little more than three miles we considered ourselves next door neighbours; and, as the weather was fine, we agreed to ride home by moonlight-no lions having been seen or traced in the valley for nine or ten months. On our return, we were jesting about wild beasts and Caffers. That part of the valley we were passing through is very wild, and encumbered in several places with thickets of evergreens; but we had no suspicion at the moment of what afterwards appeared to be the fact--that a lion was actually dogging us through the bushes the whole way home. Happily for us, however, he did not then show himself, or give us any indication of his presence; being probably somewhat scared by our number, or by the light dresses of the ladies waving in the moonlight.

About midnight, however, I was awakened by an unusual noise in the Kraal, or cattle-fold, close behind our cabin. Looking out, I saw the whole of the horned cattle spring wildly over the high thorn fence, and run scampering about the place. Fancying that a hyæna, which I had heard howling when I went to bed, had alarmed the inhabitants by breaking into the kraal, I seized my gun, and sallied forth, undressed as I was, to have a shot at it. Though the cloudless full moon shone with a brilliant light (so bright in that fine climate that I frequently read print by it) I could discover no cause for the terror of the cattle, and after calling a Hottentot to shut them again into the kraal, I retired once more to rest. Next morning Capt. Cameron rode up to inform me that his herdsmen had discovered by the traces in the path that a large lion had followed us up the valley the preceding night; and upon further search it was discovered that this unwelcome visitant had actually been in my fold the preceding night, and had carried off a sheep. But as he appeared by the traces to have retreated with his prey to the mountains, we abandoned for the moment all idea of pursuing him.

The lion was not disposed, however, to have done with us on such easy terms. He returned that very night, and killed my favourite riding horse, little more than a hundred yards from the door of our cabin. I then considered it full time to take prompt measures in self-defence, and sent a messenger round the location to call out a party to hunt

The first point was to track the lion to his covert. This was effected by a few of the Hottentots on foot. Commencing from the spot where the horse was killed, they followed the spoor, or track, through grass, and gravel, and brush-wood, with astonishing ease and dexterity, where an inexperienced eye could have discovered neither footprint nor mark of any kind, until at length we fairly tracked him into a large bosch, or straggling thicket, of brushwood and evergreens, about a mile distant.

The next object was to drive him out of this retreat, in order to attack him in close phalanx, and with more safety and effect. The approved mode in such cases is to torment the animal with dogs till he abandons his covert, and comes forth into the open plain. The whole band of hunters then march forward together, and fire deliberately, either one by one, or in volleys. If he does not speedily fall, but grows furious and advances upon his assailants, they must then stand close in a circle, and turn their horses rear outward; some holding them fast by the bridles, while the others kneel to take a steady aim at the lion as he approaches, as he will sometimes do up to the very horses' heels,-crouching every now and then as if to measure the distance and strength of his enemies. This is the moment to shoot him fairly in the forehead or some other mortal part. If they continue to wound Lim ineffectually, till he waxes desperate; or if the horses, startled by his terrific roar, grow frantic with terror, and burst loose, the business becomes rather serious, and may end in mischief, especially if all the party are not men of courage, coolness, and experience. The frontier boors are, however, generally such excellent marksmen, and withal so cool and deliberate, that they seldom fail to shoot him dead, as soon as they can get within a fair distance.

In the present instance, we did not manage matters quite so discreetly. The Mulattoes, after recounting to us all these and other savage laws of lion-hunting, were themselves the first to depart from them. Finding that our hounds made little impression on the lion, they divided themselves into two or three partics, and rode round the jungle, firing into the spot where the dogs were barking round him, but without effect. At length, after some hours spent in thus beating about the bush, the Scottish blood of some of my countrymen began to get impatient; and three of them, Messrs George and John Rennie, and James Ekron, a servant of my father's, announced their determination to march in, and beard the lion in his den, provided three of the Mulattoes, who were superior marksmen, would support them, and follow up their fire should the enemy venture to give battle. Accordingly, in they went, (in spite of the warnings of some more prudent men among us), to within fifteen or twenty paces of the spot where the animal lay concealed. He was couched among the roots of a large ever-green bush, with a small space of open ground on one side of it; and they fancied, on approaching, that they saw him distinctly lying glaring at them from under the foliage. Charging their coloured allies to stand firm, and level fair should they miss, the Scottish champions let fly together, and struck-not the lion, as it afterwards proved, but a great block of red stone beyond which he was actually lying. Whether any of the shot grazed him is uncertain, but, with no other warning than a furious growl, forth he bolted from the bush. The Mulattoes, in place of now pouring in their volley upon him, instantly turned and fled helterskelter, leaving him to do his pleasure upon the defenceless Scots, who, with empty guns, were tumbling over each other, in their hurry to escape the clutch of the rampant savage. In a twinkling he was upon them-and with one stroke of his paw, dashed John Rennie (my brother-in-law,) to the ground. The scene was terrific! There stood the lion with his foot upon his prostrate foe, looking round in conscious power and pride upon the band of his assailants,and with a port the most noble and imposing that can be conceived. It was the most magnificent thing I ever witnessed. The danger of our friends, however, rendered it at the moment too terrible to enjoy fully either the grand or the ludicrous part of the picture. We expected every instant to see one or more of them torn in pieces; nor, though the rest of us were standing within fifty paces, with our guns cocked and levelled, durst we fire for their assistance. One was lying under the lion's paw, and the other scrambling towards us in such a way as to intercept our aim at him. All this passed far more rapidly than I have described it. But luckily the lion, after steadily surveying us for a few seconds, seemed willing to be quits with us on fair terms; and, with a fortunate forbearance turned calmly away, and driving the hounds like rats from among his heels, bounded over the adjoining thicket like a cat over a footstool, clearing brakes or bushes twelve or fifteen feet high, as readily as if they had been tufts of grass; and,

abandoning the jungle, retreated towards the mount

ains.

After ascertaining the state of our rescued comrade, (who fortunately had sustained no other injury than a bloody scratch on the back, and a severe bruise on the ribs, from the force with which the animal had dashed him to the ground,) we renewed the chace with our Hottentot allies and hounds in full cry. In a short time we again came up with the enemy, and found him standing at bay under an old mimosa tree, by the side of a mountain stream which we had distinguished by the name of Huntly Burn. The dogs were barking round, but afraid to approach him, for he was now beginning to growl fiercely, and to brandish his tail in a manner that showed he was meditating mischief. The Hottentots, by taking a circuit between him and the mountain, crossed the stream, and took their station on the top of the precipice overlooking the spot where he stood. Another party of us occupied a position on the other side of the glen; and placing the poor lion thus between two fires, which confused his attention and prevented his retreat, we kept battering away at him till he fell, unable again to grapple with us, pierced with many wounds.

He proved to be a large full-grown lion, about six years of age, as our coloured friends affirmed. He measured fully eleven feet from the nose to the tip of the tail. His fore leg below the knee was so thick that I could not span it with both my hands; and his neck, breast, and limbs appeared, when the skin was taken off, a complete congeries of sinews. His head, which seemed as large and heavy as that of an ordinary ox, I caused to be boiled, for the purpose of preserving the skull, and tasted the flesh from curiosity. It resembled very white coarse beef, rather insipid, but without any very disagreeable flavour.

Our neighbours, the nimrods of the Tarka, disapproved highly of our method of attacking this lion in the bush, and said it was a wonder he did not destroy some of us. They were highly diverted with the discomfiture of our three champions; and the story of "Ian Rennie en de Leewo," long continued to be one of their constant jokes against the Scotchmen, at which I have often seen some of them laugh till the tears ran over their cheeks. However, the Scotchmen, and especially the Rennies, were not long in redeeming their credit as huntsmen, equally adroit as adventurous.

Several other lions were killed at Glen Lynden and its vicinity during my residence there; but I shall content myself with the description of another hunt, extracted from a letter written by my friend Mr Philipps, of Glendour, in Albany, who happened to be at the time on a visit to me. Being no great Nimrod myself, I was not present on the occasion.

After describing the rousing of the lion in a wild desert place near the Zwartkei river, in the country of Amatembra Caffers, Mr Philipps proceeds :—

The lion abandoned the grove of mimosas, and we followed him in full cry across the open plain. The Caffers, who had just come up and mixed with us, could scarcely clear themselves of our horses; and their dogs howling and barking-we hallowingthe lion full in view making for a small copse about a mile distant, with the great number and variety of antelopes on our left, scowring off in different directions, formed altogether one of the most animating spectacles that the annals of sporting could produce.

Diederik Muller and Lieutenant Sheppard, being on very spirited horses, were the foremost. Christian Muller gave the signal to dismount, when we were about two hundred yards from the copse. He desired us to be quick in tying the horses, which was done as fast as each came up; and now there was no retreating. We were on lower ground than the lion, with not a bush around us. The plan was, to advance in a body, leaving our horses with the Hottentots, who were to keep their backs towards the lion, for fear they should become unruly at the sight

of him.

These preparations occupied only a few seconds, and were not quite completed when we heard him growl, and imagined he was making off again. But no!-as if to retrieve his character from suspicion of cowardice for his former flight, he had made up his mind to attack us in his turn. To the growl succeeded a terrific roar; and at the same instant we beheld him bearing down upon us, his eye-balls glaring with rage. We were taken unprepared, his

motion was so rapid no one could take aim; and he furiously darted at one of the horses while we were at their heads, without a possibility of preventing it. The poor horse sprang forward, and with the force of the action wheeled all the other horses round with

him. The lion likewise wheeled, but immediately couched at less than ten yards from us. Our left flank thus became exposed; but on it fortunately What stood Christian Muller and Mr G. Rennie. an anxious moment! For a few seconds we beheld the monster at this little distance meditating, as it

The skin of this lion, after being rudely tanned by our Hottentots, was, together with the skull, transmitted to Sir Walter Scott, as a testimony of the author's regard; and these trophies have now the honour to form part of the lamented poet's antique armoury at Abbotsford.

will no more perish than the woods and waters, and the golden light and shades that haunt them. "Nature is vindicated by her children." We have sometimes half thought that the errors and violences of the age of chivalry were well redeemed by the fables they have left us, and might even have been permitted by providence for that purpose, as well as for the greater amenity of manners that they produce, and the brave deference to women! For there must have been some reasons for the thing, and what better than these? The ugliness of it has gone by. Its beauty remains in that amenity and in these books. The storm has burst from the castled hills, and the castles are gone with it; but from out of it there has run, and will run for ever, in the most sequestered places of thought, these brooks of gentleness and beauty, haunted by fair forms that purify the air of passion, and helping to supply half the mind of man with a world fit for it, till the world itself grow fitter.]

were, on whom he should first spring. Never did I
long so ardently to hear the report of a gun. We
looked at them taking aim,-and then at the lion.
It was absolutely necessary to give him a mortal shot,
or the consequences might be fatal to some of the
party. Every second seemed a minute. At length
Christian fired. The under jaw of the lion dropped,
blood gushed from his mouth-and he turned round
with a view to escape.
Mr Rennie then shot him
through the spine, and he fell.

At this moment he looked grand beyond expression. Turning again towards us, he rose upon his fore feet-his mouth gushing blood-his eyes flashing vengeance. He attempted to spring at us, but his hind legs denied him aid. He dragged them a little space, when Stephanus put a final period to his existence, by shooting him through the brain. He was a noble animal, measuring nearly ten feet, including the tail.

GOOD NEWS FOR THE READERS OF THE FAERIE QUEENE.

CHARACTER OF SPENSER.

(From Blackwood's Magazine.)

WE E have, we hope, many hundred things to say of all those bright bevies of dames and damosels—the denizens of the woods, and meres, and mountains of that enchanted Forest. The air often seems to sigh as if sick with love. Edmund was the most voluptuous of all pure poets; and in his daring dalliances with nature's supreme delights, his pictures do indeed dazzle our senses, "reeling and drunk with beauty." Beauty, as if overcome by his resistless strains, unveils, in the twilight of shaded air or water, all her hidden charms of limb, and waist, and bosom, to him who seems privileged to enjoy all that is loveliest in love's own world. Yet imagination etherealizes passion -glowing, but not gross-gazing, but not gloating -enjoying all mortal transport-but as a god a goddess. Poetry is in the gleams of light that revealed temptations heaped up on the happy hills, where Innocence in heaven's own dews preserves for ever unfaded her whitest lilies. Desire, like that fire of scented cedar in Calypso's cave, is purified by what it feeds on. Pleasure is felt not to be sin-and nature's great law holy, which, on an earth where death would fain have sole dominion, sustains perpetual life, and balances bliss against all the weight of wo which else would overwhelm mortality. "Whatever hypocrites austerely hold," we hold, with Spenser and Milton, that such is the religion of nature. Spenser's Fable, quoth Hughes, though often wild, is always emblematical; and this may very much excuse that air of romance in which he has

64

followed Ariosto."-" Very much excuse!" A bird of light and music excused for light and soaring, and shining and singing in the sky. "Often wild!" Would he have fables to be tame? "Air of romance!" And what air is purer? Not even empyrean. Hughes thinks stories of knights, giants, castles, and enchantments, and all legendary adventures, "in themselves trifling;" that knights in armour, and ladies errant, are as antiquated figures to us as the court of that time would appear, if we could see them now in their ruffs and fardingales. Hurd knew better, and scorned the pseudo-philosophic criticism of the shallow school that spoke of all tales of Faery as unnatural and absurd, surpassing all bounds, not of truth only, but of probability, and more like the dreams of children than the manly inventions of poets. But those Tales of Faery, he reminded the scorners, are not the wild fancies of plebeian poets, but the golden dreams of Ariosto-the celestial visions of Tasso. True that a poet must follow nature. "But not," says the enlightened prelate, "only the known and experienced course of affairs in this world. The poet has a world of his own, where experience has less to do than consistent imagination. He has, besides, a supernatural world to range in. He has gods, and fairies, and witches at his command; and

O! who can tell The hidden power of herbs, and might of magic spell!'

66

Thus, in the poet's world, all is marvellous and extraordinary; yet not unnatural in one sense, as it agrees to the conceptions that are readily entertained of the magical and wonder-working natures." It is pleasant to hear Hurd applying these just sentiments to the "Faery Queen," and showing that Spenser is the poet of the chivalrous, as Homer was of the heroic age. The days of chivalry are not yet gone from all men's imaginations; and we know far more about them than of the days of the older heroism. Shall our own Spenser then be neglected by his own people, and the "Faery Queen" be unread, while in a year we have a second edition-for behoof of those who have no Greek-of Sotheby's Homer?

["No, no, no!" cry we of the London Journal, echoing the cry of our wise, enthusiastic brother. Nature, knowledge, imagination, cry No. Spenser

THREE OGRESSES v. GIBBON.

[THE alleged mistake, mentioned by our correspondent, is Gibbon's own. Indeed, we quoted from his Autobiography at the time. We must add, however, that we partook of it with him. It is new to us, that "Ogresses" are any thing but the lovely creatures we had hitherto supposed them. But, after all, does not the term imply, that Ogresses' heads (as such, and in the popular meaning of the word) are still to be understood as included in the heraldic figure? May not the knights of chivalry have brought them, as they did fictions of ogres, from the East, during the time of the crusades? And might not Gibbon's ancestor, 'who was a herald, have intended to be at once scientific and jocose?]

16th Sept. 1834. DEAR BENEFICENT,-Your candour will easily pardon the freedom I take in pointing out an odd mistake that you have either made, or copied (as I have not the book, I cannot say which), in your last Supplement. At page 12, you state that an ancestor of Gibbon 66 changed the three escallop shells in his arms into as many Ogresses, or female cannibals, to spite three ladies, &c." Now, Sir, without noticing the absurdity or insufficiency of such means to such end, I have only to observe, that an OGRESS is not the "fearful wild fowl" you take it to be. Guillim, Edmonson, or any other learned pundit of the "Divine Art of Blazon," will inform you, that OGRESSES are neither more nor less than balls of pitch. For your edification (pardon the assumption) I subjoin the passage as it appears in the "Rudiments of Honour." By the way, what a vast idea does it not give us of the circulating medium of those early ages of" barbaric pearl and gold!" Verily the office of pursebearer to a rich traveller (before banks or papermoney were invented) could be no sinecure-while the difficulty of “getting change" must at times have been almost insurmountable; on the other hand, a man might very well be reduced to his last piece without any serious apprehension as to the needs of

to-morrow.

"When in any coat of arms, one or more of these'
round pieces shall be found of the colour of ore,
then in blazon they are always termed bezants, and
are taken for pieces of gold," which were anciently
the coin of Bizantium, and were in weight one hun-
dred and four pounds and two ounces troy; being
equal in value to 3150. sterling; but, when any of
these figures are found of the colour of red, they must
if green,
always be called torteauxes; if blue, hurts;
pomes; if black, pellets, or ogresses; if purple,
golpes, &c."

That your endeavours to put spirit of youth in everything, may be crowned by complete success, is the sincere wish of your poor disciple,

I. A. L.

TABLE TALK.

Annibale Caracci's Christ Appearing to St Peter.This fine picture is not scriptural, as some have imagined: it embodies a tradition of the Romish church. The New Testament tells us that Christ after his resurrection appeared to St Peter; but it was more consistent with the aim and practice of the church, when losing its simplicity, to give currency to obscure or doubtful legends, rather than draw attention to the true and accredited narrative of the gospel. Peter, says the tradition, not finding at the time any liking for martyrdom, made his escape from Rome, and was hurrying along the Appian way, when he met Jesus bearing the cross, "Lord, where goest thou?" inquired the astonished saint. "I am going to Rome to be crucified a second time," was the answer, "for I find that my disciples are afraid of attesting the truth of my cause with their blood." The rebuked saint returned and suffered martyrdom. The legend is a very beautiful one; it is in keeping with the timid character of Peter; and serviceable, too, to the Church of Rome, which claimed supremacy over all Christian churches. Those who imagined the legend, found an admirable interpreter in Caracci: it is admitted by very fastidious critics that this picture (in the National Gallery) is one of the best studied and effective of all his performances in this country. Major's Cabinet Gallery. [The picture is a most beautiful one, and worthy of the legend.]

Noble Occupation for the Leisurely.—Whenever you have nothing else to do,-in other words, whenever you have no particular object in view, of pleasure or profit, of immediate or remote good,-set yourself to do good in some shape or other;-to men, to sensitive beings, rational or irrational; to one or to many; to some individual, or to the whole race.Bentham.

Taste of the Gypsies. The upper part of the wood (in a picture of Gainsborough's) is tenanted by a horde of gypsies; their asses are grazing among the glades; the party-coloured coverings of their wandering camp tre visible among the shafts of the trees, and a thin and scarcely distinguished smoke curls slowly away amid the boughs of the forest. This is one of the painter's marks to indicate great natural beauty of scene; he knew that the taste of that roving people was, as far as regarded a feeling for the charms of external nature, essentially poetic. If a lovely spot lies within seven miles of their line of march, there will they fix their tents and make their abode for the night; were landscape painters to follow their footsteps, and paint the scenes in which they establish themselves, they could not fail to produce a series of fine poetic compositions.—— Major's Cabinet Gallery.

Morland's Rural Taste.-To Londoners, and one so dissipated as Morland, it is next to a wonder that images of country simplicity and rustic modesty should have presented themselves: he was, when very young, made intimate with much of the folly and vice of the town; he assumed the dress of the fop, and copied the manners of the man of pleasure, and in all, save his paintings, was artificial and affected. The moment he took up the pencil, folly resigned her rule and nature reigned in her stead: his mind wandered from the wine vaults and the gin shops to homely cottages, barn-yards, calf-cribs, and piggeries; he forgot the hungry creditor, the griping pawnbroker, and the drouthy companion, and saw but a horde of gypsies bivouacked with their motley tents, tawny children, and tethered asses.- -Major's Cabinet Gallery.—[But this was the reason. He wanted a contrast to his feverish existence. The people of a metropolis are apt to be fonder of the country, than country-people themselves. It is rarer to them they have been taught more of its beauties from books; and their state of health gives them. more need of it.]

A FLOOD.

THE mountain torrents, rushing fierce and high,
Bearing away the riches of a strath,

Are kind as a good mother in their wrath:
The man who thinks aright-who has an eye
To scan the works of nature, and apply
Their cogent moral rightly to the heart,
Shall find the consolation they impart,*
That in all seeming evil good doth lie:
The flood shall fertilize, or if you scan
Its path in desolation, hath it not

A better, since a moral harvest, wrought?
How hath it fertilized the heart of man,

Taught it to yield a tenderness unbought, And better sympathies than interest can.

J. C.

We made a passing jest a week or two ago upon "heart and impart verses," which we notice in this place, merely to say that it had no reference to our correspondent; though he writes so well as to be able to afford an involuntary admonition against condescending to the use of those now obsolete helps to a rhyme.

been applied; strip it of the gloom and horror with which it has been surrounded, and there is none of the whole circle of visionary creeds that could more delightfully elevate the imagination, or more tenderly affect the heart. It would become a sovereign comfort at the bed of death, soothing the bitter tear wrung from us by the agony of our mortal separation. What could be more consoling than the idea that the souls of those whom we once loved were

permitted to return and watch over our welfare? That affectionate and guardian Spirits sat by our pillows when we slept, keeping a vigil over our most helpless hours? That beauty and innocence which around us, revealing themselves in those blest visions had languished into the tomb yet smiled unseen wherein we live over again the hours of past endearments?

A belief of this kind would, I should think, be a new incentive to virtue, rendering us circumspect, even in our most secret moments, from the idea that those we once loved and honoured, were invisible witnesses of all our actions. It would take away too from that loneliness and destitution, which we are apt to feel more and more. as we get on in our pilgrimage through the wilderness of this world, and find that those who set forward with us lovingly and cheerily on the journey, have one by one dropped from our side. Place the superstition in this light, and I confess I should like to be a believer in it. I see nothing in it incompatible with the tender and merciful nature of our religion, nor revolting to the wishes or affections of the heart. There are departed beings that I have loved as I shall never again love in this world,-that have loved me as I never again shall be loved. If such beings do ever retain in their blessed spheres the attachments they have felt on earth, if they take an interest in the poor concerns of transient mortality, and are permitted to hold communion with those whom they have loved on earth, I feel as if now, at this deep hour of night, in this silence and solitude, I could receive their visitation with the most solemn but unalloyed delight. J. W. A. [We thank our correspondent for this beautiful extract from Mr Washington Irvine, with whose writings it makes us desirous to be better acquainted. We have often had the feelings described in its concluding sentence. As to Spirits, it surely does not follow, from their existence, that they are to affect the human beings around them, any more than other creatures affect us, the birds in the trees, for instance. We hold, that out of all faiths and all possibilities, it is the business of a cultivated human mind to extract whatsoever enlivens and enlarges its sense of existence, provided it be consistent with analogy and God's goodness; and we see all visible nature crammed so full of life, that it appears to us equally due to the modesty of man's ignorance, and the comprehensiveness of his wisdom, to suppose that invisible nature is equally so.]

BELIEF IN SPIRITS, &c.

To the Editor of the London Journal. Dalston, 27th Sept. 1834. MANY thanks, worthy Sir, for the entertainment your London Journal affords me, and still more for the religion of love and hope which it breathes. Amidst the ravings of those who please to revile poor

66

human nature, and who bid us believe this beautiful earth is but our prison-house and scene of our sufferings and trials, and the majority of our fellow-creatures the victims of a mysterious and awful destiny, it is truly refreshing to turn to your pages and find there one, at least, who does not consider man quite so depraved, or the world quite so uninviting as is represented. Dr Watts says, Religion never was designed to make our pleasures less;" but it seems strange that, among all nations and in all creeds, the service of the Deity should be considered to involve a denial, in a greater or less degree, of the pleasures of this world; as if he who placed us here and gave us reason to use, and senses to enjoy his gifts, delighted in witnessing the perpetual conflict of our inclinations and our duty. It is our ignorance of the character of the Supreme which makes us undervalue his works. If our hearts were duly impressed with the conviction that He was the fountain of love, and not the tyrant of the universe, we should view the world more as an Elysium than a place of sorrow, and our fellow-men as beings susceptible of indefinite

improvement, and bound to our hearts by the ties of sympathy and philanthropy.

Go on then, Mr Editor, in your labour of love, and prosper. Render men more in humour with themselves and each other, and assist in that "consummation devoutly to be wished"-the full and perfect emancipation of the mind. So far has my heart responded to all you have said, till I come this week to your remarks on Spirits, there I candidly own I stop. However pleasing the ideas such a belief may awaken, I feel convinced it is delusive, and tends to countenance the darkest superstition, and gives the imagination too large a field for its range. Any vagary of the brain would be received with attention, and no doctrine would be unsubstantiated, if this was

admitted, for if such creatures as Spirits exist, it does not seem probable they would not affect us, and if they did so, where would our free will be? Or, supposing them to be passive, for what purpose then were they sent into a material visible world to mix with humanity unseen, and witness actions and feelings in which they could have no participation. I regret you did not offer more evidence for their existence, as I should like to be possessed of the reasons which have led your mind to this conclusion; till then I must venture to express my dissent, and still continue to believe that this world has no other inhabitants but those I see, or is fitted for the abode of any but material beings. I am glad, however, to part with your paper in unison of sentiment respecting the existence of a Devil. Those who think that such a being exists, must have very confused and imperfect ideas of the omnipotence and love of the Deity. A more rational creed whispers, "Man alone is the author of all the evil he endures, and that happiness is within his reach, and easily attained by the disciplined and virtuous mind."

"

Washington Irvine has an exquisite passage on Spirits in his Bracebridge Hall,' which, along with your own remarks, would almost seduce me to become a proselyte to your theory. I have written it out, as I feel assured you will approve of it.

Who yet has been able to comprehend and describe the nature of the soul in connexion with the body, or in what part of the frame it is situated? We know merely that it does exist, but whence it came, and when it entered into us, and how it is sustained, and where it is seated, and how it operates, are all matters of mere speculation and contradictory theories. If then we are thus ignorant of this spiritual existence, even while it forms a part of ourselves, and is continually present to our consciousness, how can we pretend to ascertain or to deny its powers and operations, when released from its fleshy prison-house? It is more the manner, therefore, in which this superstition has been degraded, than its intrinsic absurdity, that has brought it into contempt. Raise it above the frivolous purposes to which it has

Four Parties in a Family consisting of Four Persons. -Before I introduce you to the family of my host, I must premise, that the inhabitants of the Comtat are divided into four parties, who persecute each other with inexorable hatred. The first still adheres to the Pope, and consists principally of the old people and ecclesiastics; the second, which is called the Aristocratic party, wishes the country, it is true, to remain under the sovereignty of France, but only on condition that the monarchy shall be fully restored; the third is perfectly satisfied with the present order of things, and is called the Democratic party; and the fourth consists of those who, under the conduct of Sourdan, enriched themselves by plunder, and whose prime wish therefore is to break the chains of their hero, and see him raised again to his former power; these are comprehended under the title of Brigands. It was to me one of the most curious, as well as the most lamentable of political phenomena, to find these four parties united in my inn, where the family consisted of only four persons. The father, a bigotted old man, to whom the metamorphosis of the papal crown over the gate had occasioned more than one sleepless night, was a papist; the mother, a vehement democrat; the daughter, who had been a favourite with the former Archbishop of Aix, an aristocrate enragée; and the son, as having been lieutenant under Sourdan, a furious brigand. The enmity between the two young people did not seem carried to so great a height as between the father and mother, who were almost always quarrelling. When I asked the young lady if one might sleep in security under their roof, as her brother, according to her own account, was a brigand, she answered, "Do not be alarmed, sir; he is a very good lad when he is here, but when he is with Sourdan, he must perform his duty to his captain."-Matthison's Travels.

CHORDS TOUCHED.

АH, how that plaintive strain recalls
The happy hour I heard it last;
And seems, while on my ear it falls,

A dream-like whisper from the past! What mingled thoughts of joy and pain

From the same source unbidden flow, To hear those well known tones again,

And, oh, to hear them thus-and now!

A voice in every cadence dwells-
In every mournful note a sigh-
Of other, happier days it tells,
Unvalued as they glided by !

Of those I've loved, o'er whom the pall
Of funeral darkness seems to be,

And, oh! of worse than these, than all, Of buried hope it speaks to me!

MEMOR.

Progress of Good. The historian of Anson's Voyages, speaking of scurvy, says, "the cure seems impossible by any remedy or by any management that can be employed." In the present day, instead of the remedy being unknown, it is, happily, the disease: a fact which suggests the most important subject for contemplation, and justifies the reflections and language of Sir Gilbert Blane: "Does it not afford a cheering and consolatory prospect, amidst the thousand shocks that flesh is heir to, that there may be still in store for us, in the boundless progression and endless combination of knowledge, other hidden means of advancing human happiness, of mitigating human misery, and of making accessions to the dominion of man over nature which have not yet. been dreamed of in our philosophy ?"—Penny Cyclopædia.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

WE have again to thank the Greenock Advertiser for its very kind and zealous commendations of our Journal. Such praises, too, are always the more valuable, of course, in proportion to the talents of the praiser.

Our feelings are particularly touched also by what is said of the Journal in the Windsor and Eton Express.

J. C. is informed that there will be eight Supplements in the course of twelve months, and that those upon the subject of London will have an index.

The Fourth Number of the Supplement was published with our last week's number, and should have been served by all the venders.

We shall be glad to hear again from our friend JEAN ANDRE-SON; and meanwhile will make use of what he has sent us.

ARNOLD next week.

We have handed Mr G. F.'s letter to a quarter, in which we hope it may do him service.

The pamphlet sent us by Mr W. G. shall be attended to.

We should be happy to oblige Solomon Gundy, but fear it is out of our power. Also our friend C. D. M.; but doubt whether the readers would think the re-publication of the verses consistent towards their demand for newer matter.

Some of J. D.'s verses in our next. Those of phos have been unavoidably delayed to the same time.

The observations of J. D. OBSERVATOR were very welcome.

Mr G. B. is informed in the negative. We are under no need of acting upon that plan. Mr J. M. C. will understand to what part of his letter the same answer applies.

Mr J. W. B. will probably think that the spirit of his remarks has been anticipated.

Attention will be paid to the book sent us by Mr J. B., who is thanked for the other book that accompanied it, and for his letter.

B'ees throng upon us, and all as dulcet as industrious.

Mr J. B.'s letter from Suffolk was highly welcome.

LONDON: Published by H. HOOPER, 13, Pall Mall East. From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Lote Pulteney-strecta

LONDON JOURNAL.

TO ASSIST THE ENQUIRING, ANIMATE THE STRUGGLING, AND SYMPATHIZE WITH ALL.

WEDNESDAY, OCT. 15, 1834.

ROMANCE OF COMMON-PLACE. EVERY sentiment, or want of sentiment, pushed to excess, bears, from that excess, a character of ro We remance; even dullness may be romantic. member our friend C. L., many years ago, giving us, with his exquisite tact, an account of a deceased acquaintance of his who carried "common-place" itself to a pitch of the "romantic," and who would way-lay you for half an hour with a history of his having cut his finger, or mislaid a pair of shoes. This gentleman did not draw infinite somethings out of nothing, like the wits of the Lutrin, or the Rape of the Lock, or the Italian expatiators upon a Cough or a Christian-name. He got hold of nothing, and out of it, with a congeniality of emptiness, drew nothing whatever. But it was he that drew the nothing, and you that listened to him; and thus he got a sense of himself somehow. If you ran against him in the street, it was an event in his life, and enabled him to stand breathing, and smiling, and saying how much it did not signify, for the next intense five minutes. He once met a lady, an acquaintance of his, who was going to have a tooth drawn.

I should think a week.
God bless me ! A week! That is a long time!
And by night as well as by day, I presume?

I have hardly had any sleep for these two nights. Dear me! That is very sad. God bless me! No sleep for these two nights! Want of sleep is a very sad thing,-highly distressing. I could not do without my regular sleep. No, no; none of us can. It is highly undermining to the constitution. Produces such fatigue-such lassitude-such weariness. H'm! h'm! (Humming with a sort of sympathy and gentlemanly groan, as if his own face were bound up.) I see you are suffering now, Madam?

It will be soon over now.

And so, thus heaping emphasis upon emphasis upon this very new valediction, and retaining a double smile amidst his good wishes, from his very new Dear me, Madam, and so you are going to have joke about the ghost of a tooth, our Hero of Comyour tooth drawn?

mon-place takes his leave.

Yes, Sir.

By Mr Parkinson, I presume?

Yes.

Madam?

Not a little, indeed. God bless me! I am very sorry to hear it,-very sorry. How long pray may you have suffered this tooth-ach?

We have been led to write more of this dialogue than we intended; so we put it at the head of our Dear me! I fear you have suffered a good deal, paper, in order to avoid beginning three successive weeks with the same subject, which, our printer tells us, has a look of dangerous experiment with the reader in these variety-loving times. All that we meant to say was, that there is a romance in the least things as well as the greatest, even in shabbiness itself, if of a very excessive kind; and this remark we intended as an introduction to our present week's

H'm! You are very bold, Madam,-very resolute; but that is extremely sensible. H'm! Dear me! And you have tried clove, I presume, and all

that?

No. 29.

down the court, is astonished to find the gentleman
waiting at the corner, to congratulate her ! )*

Well, Madam (bowing and smiling), the tooth is
drawn, I presume?

(Lady acquiesces.)

Dear me! ah!-Hm!-very painful, I fear-a long while drawing?

ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE, which is romantic if only for the excess of meanness exhibited by the wretched subject of it, in his application to Mr Fox to save his life, at the moment he was defending himself elsewhere at the expense of that gentleman's character. The Mr Fox in question, afterwards first Lord Holland, was father of the celebrated Fox, and grandfather of the present accomplished nobleman. We take the narrative from the third volume of Mr Britton's History of Wiltshire,in the preface of which, by the way, we were much interested by the author's candid account of his rise from humble life. Some of the engravings also much interested us, especially that of Mr Bowles's residence, Bremhill Parsonage, a proper nest for a Why, I am not young, and do not like to part with clerical poet. my teeth.

Ah-oh-h'm just so-very natural-ah-yes—— dear me! h'm! A double tooth, I suppose?

Lady. 'Tis out, at last. (Aside. I wonder when
the man will have done with his absurdity.)
A skilful dentist, Mr Parkinson, Madam?
(Lady acquiesces.)

I have not been to a dentist myself these-let me
see-ah, yes, it must be-now-these twenty years. I
had one bad tooth, and caught a cold sitting in the
draught of a coach-very dangerous thing-and chaises
are worse- very dangerous things, chaises—l'm-
very. You are suffering still I see, Madam? from
the ghost of the tooth, I presume?—(laughing)—but,
dear me! I am keeping you in the draught of this
court, and you go the other way. Good morning,
Madam-Good morning-I wish you a very GOOD
morning-Don't speak, I beg-GOOD morning.

(The lady nods. }

Ah-afraid of the cold air-you are right not to open your mouth, Madam. Cold gets in. I'm-yes—just so. (Nodding, bowing, and groaning.) (Lady turns to go up a court, and makes a gesture of bidding him good morning.)

XL.-CASE OF JOHN AYLIFFE.

Tockenham in the last century was the birth-place of an individual who was executed for forgery, under peculiar circumstance; and whose fate attracted much of the public attention, from his previous connexion with Henry Fox, the first Lord Holland. The folAh-lowing account of this transaction is taken principally from the statements published in the Annual Register' for 1759.

The parents of John Ayliffe were upper servants to Gerard Smith, Esq. He was early in life placed at Harrow school, and qualified to become a teacher at the free-school of Lyneham, with a salary of ten pounds a year. While in that situation he married the daughter of a clergyman of Tockenham, with a fortune of five hundred pounds, against the consent of her relatives.

• A fact.

Oh-ah-dear me! ay, this is the place—so it isI wish you a happy release, Madam-I hope the process will be easy-h'm! ha-a-ah! (Takes furewell between a sort of breath and a groan. Lady goes into the dentist's, has her tooth drawn, and on returning [From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.]

[ocr errors]

PRICE THREE HALFPEnce.

This money he spent extravagantly, and about two years after his marriage, he was taken into the family of Mrs Horner, mother of Lady Ilchester, as housesteward; and subsequently he was employed as an agent for the management of her estates. This lady probably recommended him to Mr Fox, who procured for him the post of commissary of the musters. He then built himself a house at Blandford Forum, in Dorsetshire, and filled it with pictures and costly furniture. By this extravagance, and by his abortive projects to gain money, he dissipated his income, though it was very considerable, and involved himself deeply in debt. Thus pressed for money, he had recourse to several fraudulent contrivances to relieve himself. He forged a promise of presentation to the rectory of Brinkworth, in the hand-writing of Mr Fox, adding the names of two persons as subscribing witnesses. By means of this paper, he prevailed on a clergyman to become his security in borrowing money, and also to engage to marry a certain young woman. It happened that the marriage had not taken place when Ayliffe's affairs became desperate; but his failure ruined the unfortunate clergyman, who died broken-hearted. After his death the following paper was found in his pocket.

66

July 29, 1759,-wrote the following letter to John Ayliffe Satan, Esq.

"SIR,I am surprised you can write to me, after you have robbed and most barbarously murdered me. Oh! Brinkworth!- Yours, T. Ed.”

In April 1759, Ayliffe committed the forgery for which he suffered. Mrs Horner, to whom he had been steward, at her death, left her property chiefly to Mr Fox, and requested that gentleman to make some provision for Ayliffe. Accordingly Mr Fox executed the lease of an estate in Wiltshire to him for life, and for those of his wife and son, reserving a rent of only thirty-five pounds, which was much below the real annual value of the property. Ayliffe, some time after, borrowed money on the security of this lease; and, to make it appear more valuable, he copied it on a fresh skin of parchment, altering the reserved rent from thirty-five to five pounds. To this copy he forged the name of Mr Fox, and of those witnesses who had subscribed the real lease. To conceal this transaction from the knowledge of Mr Fox, he proposed to the persons from whom he borrowed the money an oath of secrecy. This was not agreed to, and he was obliged to be satisfied with a promise that Mr Fox should not be told of the mortgage. But the interest of the money not being regularly paid, the mortgagee felt himself no longer bound to keep the secret; and he accordingly applied to Mr Fox to pay off the mortgage. This Mr Fox declined doing; and in the course of the affair, the amount of the reserved rent was mentioned, the deed was produced, and the fraud became manifest. In the meantime, about a month after Ayliffe had forged the lease, he was arrested for sums amounting to one thousand one hundred pounds, and thrown into the Fleet Prison. During his confinement there, he produced a deed of gift from Mrs Horner to himself of four hundred and twenty pounds per annum, and three thousand pounds in money. Mrs Horner had died towards the close of the year 1757; and Ayliffe alleged that she, being unwilling to let Lady Itchester and her relations know how she had disposed of this property, directed him not to mention the donation till after her death. He said he had since concealed the circumstance from Mr Fox, lest it should hurt his interest with that gentleman.

Soon after this claim was set up, the forgery of the lease was found out, and a prosecution instituted against Ayliffe for the crime. In the meantime, he affected to represent Mr Fox's proceedings as being instituted with no other view than to extort from him a renunciation of the deed of gift which he professed to have received from Mrs Horner. So far did be persist in this diabolical accusation, that at the very time he was supplicating Mr Fox for mercy, he wrote thas to the Secretary of State :

"Mr Fox is now pleased to disown the signing or setting his hand to the lease, alleging it not to be original, though he acknowledged his having signed the same lease, so mortgaged as aforesaid, to several

persons; and for this your petitioner is convicted and sentenced to death."

At the same time that he sent the above accusation against Mr Fox, he forwarded the following letter to that gentleman :

:

"HONOURED SIR,-The faults I have been guilty of shock my very soul, and particularly those, sir, towards you, for which I heartily ask God and your pardon. The sentence I have had pronounced me fills me with horrors such surely as never was felt by any mortal. What can I say? Oh, my good God! that I could think of anything I could do to induce you to have mercy on me, and prevail on you, good sir, to intercede for my life. I would do anything in the whole world, and submit to anything for my life, either at home or abroad. For God's sake, good sir, have compassion on your unhappy and unfortunate servant, JOHN AYLIFFE. "Press Yard, Newgate,

Oct. 28th, 1759."

Two days before he sent these letters, he was tried and convicted at the Old Bailey Sessions, and received the usual sentence.

Mr Fox, throughout the whole affair, had treated his ungrateful servant with much kindness and generosity, procuring for him every convenience which his situation would admit, and sending him money and provisions, and paying the rent of his apartment in prison. A proof of the excessive depravity of this man is further evinced in a letter he wrote to Mr Pitt, who had ever been the political antagonist of Mr Fox. In this he stated that it was in his power to make some disclosures relative to the conduct of the latter as a minister of state, so much to his disadvantage, that the knowledge of them would leave him entirely at the mercy of Mr Pitt. This application proved worse than fruitless, as that gentleman was the last person in the world who would have adopted so mean a mode of undermining a rival. He forwarded Ayliffe's letter to Mr Fox, who, in justice to his own character, left the unfortunate man to his fate.

Finding his artifices as ineffectual as they were wicked, Ayliffe then wrote again to Mr Fox, offering to make a full confession of his guilt. In reply, that gentleman told him, that, although he pitied him, and forgave him, he was not to expect any advantage from his disclosures; and that he could only advise him to make his peace with God. The culprit, finding his hopes of mercy were at an end, confessed that the deed of gift from Mrs Horner was a fraud; and that he had prepared it ready for signing, and slipped it among some leases which Mrs Horner executed without reading. Ayliffe suffered the penalty of the law, at Tyburn, November 19th, 1759; when he was about thirty-six years of age.

THE WORD "FAIRY."

SIR, I have been much amused with an article in your last Number on Fairies. Allow me to make a remark on the use of the word fairy being peculiar to this country. Mr Keightley has, I think, satisfactorily shown (see Appendix to his Tales and Popular Fictions,') that the word fairy was not originally applied, as at present, to any little being, but was used in the sense of the French faerie, signifying" enchantment," as "the land of faery," in which sense Spenser and others use it. Our fay, the French fée, Italian fata, and Provençal fada, were the words used to designate the being we now term a fairy; and this last word is only the faerie of the French transplanted into England. If the word existed in Latin, it would be fatatio, but the Romans were a deplorably unimaginative people, and did not know what enchantment meant. There are some curious remarks on this subject, in the book I have above referred to on Popular Fictions. Excuse my troubling you with these remarks, from Yours, &c.

PUCK. We meant to imply what our Correspondent has noticed relative to the word "faerie," when we spoke, in commencing this subject, of "a southern appellation applied to a northern idea." It would have been more correct had we defined the word "fairy" to be the name of the sphere applied to the inhabitants. The curious reader cannot do better than go to Mr Keightley's Popular Fictions and Fairy Mythology for information on those subjects. We shall speak of the primitive root of the word fairy in a future article on the "Fairies of the East."

[blocks in formation]

wished it to be inferred from this, that all his reflections were to be found, by a like process, in Dr Johnson's Dictionary; and hence the title he gave them. In so doing, however, (besides the mystification of the thing), he appeared to do an injustice to himself, not compensated to him or to the reader by a jest which was the least successful pleasantry in his paper; and accordingly we have ventured to change the title.]

Set your mind, gallant reader, in order; prepare for a magna contentio within yourself. Make an imaginary division of forces-the Pro and Con of the discussion. Or, like the idiot that acts "Crookback'd Richard," and "Simple Henry," in the street, say the saying for the one side, and then jump to the other and reply. Having given your suppositious antagonist a knock-down argument, throw yourself into his situation, and retaliate. The dispute is at first carried on with words, and looks "as cool as a cucumber;" then it gets warm-warmer-now energetic-hot-next boisterous at last, like Jonathan Wild, one of the disputants "cocks his hat and looks fierce." The other cannot stand that in due course; "words proceed to blows" (imaginary of course), and the contention ends like the wakening of day dreamers, according to magazine story-tellers, by your kicking over your footstool, your candle, your lamp, the table, your pot of porter, or (more brittle) decanters of wine, or your glass of rum and water; or it may be, (for lying half awake a-bed is a famous field for mental argument) giving your sleeping spouse a sanguinary blow on the nose; and on striking a light, you find her, according to newspaper phraseology, "weltering in her gore."

A curtain lecture perhaps follows, which is at length interrupted by the braying of your nasal

trumpet.

The curtain lectures of a benedict's lifetime, I have little doubt, would form a not uninteresting volume; but I am afraid rather monotonous. They might consist of a course under the following heads. Lecture I. (this happens shortly after marriage.) Upon the heinousness of the guilt of dining and taking tea from home, and not coming home till evening-having met an old cronie whom you have not seen since boyhood. Lecture II. Upon the crime of paying too much attention to somebody else at a party. Your wife has walked home with you, with merely the tips of her fingers on your arm, without speaking a word; or has ridden in your carriage, sitting opposite you, or by your side, at the most extreme corner, without opening her lips. You get into your house, she calls for Betty to bring the chamber candlestick, and straightway goes to bed, without asking you to accompany her,all this time "nursing her wrath to keep it warm." Your inquiries if she is not well, fatigued, or whether any one has offended her, are only answered by looks. After she has thus left you, as she imagines, to your reflections, the temptation of a snug fire, warm slippers, a stiff glass of toddy, and the last new novel or magazine assails you, and perhaps hours pass in the delightful society of books; the volume falling from your hand into the hearth, and your nodding drowsiness, at last send you to bed; then, in addition to what would have been inflicted under the prior offence only, you will be edified by Lecture III., On your growing indifference to the wife of your choice. In the ordinary matrimonial course, Lecture IV. would be

On the sin of getting groggy at home, with some old friends. Leature V. On the deadly sin of enjoying your grog abroad, and coming home ditto. Perhaps on the next night, being worn out by a day's illness, the effect consequent on the before-mentioned cause, and wanting a good night's rest to refresh you, you are entertained with Lecture VI., On your indifference to your own health; considering that you are now not your own, but your wife's. The subjects indeed are innumerable, upon which a wife takes upon herself to be the instructress of her husband. The lectures are generally carried on in the interrogativewithout-waiting-for-an-answer style, and are interspersed with sundry half-articulated, sleepyish “Yes mi dears"-" No mi dears"-" D'n know mi dears," which at last verge into an unmeaning gutteral enunciation. For an excellent specimen, I would refer to "Don Juan," canto I. stanzas cxlv. to clvii., though I must say for the honour of the British community, "there are not many who quarrel like Donna Julia and Aphonso."

[Here our correspondent, in a passage perfectly justifiable, but which might be misconstrued, is led into a transition on the subject of “gaming-houses."]

a lapsus pennæ, these West-end dens, for such they are. The company that frequent them are a medley of all ranks and classes, men of fashion and men of no fashion, beaux and lovers, withered veterans and beardless striplings, peers and bankrupts, blacklegs and greenhorns, swindlers and 'prentice boys. The object that each of these has intently in view is, the universal employment of mankind, in different manners, and, in every shade of varying method, to enrich himself, at the expence of his neighbour; in this case it is carried on by the treacherous card and the deceitful dice. Rouge et noir-the red and the black-the red flush of success, and the black depth of despair, is the character of the game, whatever be the method of play. Yet there are some master spirits, if I may so say, ever to be seen at these temples of the blind goddess,

who, whether they win or lose, preserve the coolness of men sitting at ease among their families. To arrive at this state of mind, is the perfection of their art. To stifle the voice of nature, to dissipate her sympathies, to trample on her affections, to make a God and a religion of the spirit of plunder, to have read the prime article of which forbids us to feel for others, and to give up even the privilege of feeling for ourselves. This is the perfection of the gamester's art. Neither satisfied with success, nor contented with ruin, the perfect gambler must put away his heart, or submit it to that operation, by which flesh is made as hard as iron. In a professed gambler we behold talent without admiration, age without reverence, youth without feeling, and rank without respect.

Respect and reverence for rank and high birth are fast failing from the face of our social system. Nature thought that the aristocracy of birth had had its day, and now times are turning to an aristocracy of talent. All whom it may concern, must e'en put up with this state of things, and console themselves as best they can.

Well, well, the world will turn upon its axis,

And all mankind turn with it, heads and tails, And live and starve, and pay their taxes;

And as the veering wind shifts up its sails, some stubborn spirits will place themselves in defiance of the innovating waves of time and manners, and, like the rock, will remain steadfast till undermined with the fluctuations of the sea. Then will they fall and be lost, burried, merged into the depths of the past, and the place thereof shall know them no more. What will they leave behind? "Perhaps a name."

And saith Juliet, "What's in a name?" Ay, but then it was the impassioned desire of love that dictated the question, which is intended to comprise its own answer. She was an interested party, as a lawyer would have it, and therefore not a competent witness. She was anxious to annihilate the barriers which the name and lineage of Romeo had cast between her and her lover. But, says Pro, it

« السابقةمتابعة »