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sion of his soul; whilst, with all his boasts of supe. dertaking which only helped to make the com- Convinced that nothing but death, in the manner rior wisdom, he poured forth on every occasion of batants effeminate: he asserted that it was more he had proposed, would satisfy the merciless multienvy, contradiction, or irritation, a torrent of foul useful to the state, though a few lives were lost, tude, in a tremor, produced by agitation of body and invective; and always in a greater proportion, if to harden them by exposure to heat and thirst, mind, he sunk on the ground: repeated faintings, the person he attacked appeared to excel him in than to suffer the defenders of their country to

succeeded by a fever, made it necessary to postpone person, fortune, morals, or understanding.

enjoy the indulgencies of coolness and shade. the business. Having proved himself grossly deficient in every After much declamation in favour of self-denial, A physician, who was sent for to administer relief, Christian requisite, and disguising, under the philo- it was observed that, on the next celebration of informed him, that if he was so anxiously bent upon sophic garb, an overbearing spirit as well as a de- the games, he was foremost in the crowd which death, he might save himself the trouble and cere. praved heart; after repeated but ineffectual admoni. pressed forward to enjoy the stream.

mony of publicly inflicting it on himself, for that the tions to amend, he was expelled from the Christian The office of a censurer of mankind, whatever fever, if unsubdued, would soon release him from church.

his motives, is not of a kind to conciliate affection, his cares. Again thrown loose on society, he travelled on

but the inconsistencies of Peregrinus made him Peregrinus, not relishing the proposal, told his foot into Egypt, and having, by vicious or preposte contemptible; a circumstance highly mortifying to

medical friend, that merely to die in his bed was not rous conduct, closed every avenue to fair fame, he a man hunting after popularity, and ambitious of the thing he wanted; that so common a mode of assumed the character of a cynic, he affected the posthumous fame.

going out of the world, unnoticed and unapplauded, dress and manners of Diogenes, inflicted on himself

Rendered desperate by disappointment, he re

had neither the charm of novelty, nor the attraction corporal chastisement, and insisted that, to a philo- solved, on the fervour of false philosophy, to asto

of popular admiration. sopher, all words and all actions, as long as they did nish the world, and build his reputation on what

* After a struggle of several weeks, between his not violate moral justice, or diminish the great mass he judged an imperishable basis, by putting an

fears, his disease, and his pride, the fever left him, of public happiness, were equally indifferent, end to his existence on a funeral pile.

and he positively fixed the time and place at which He neglected or despised the decencies of dress, Being questioned as to the end he had in view,

he would execute his purpose. language, and "gesture; performing publicly, with- he said, that he meant to hold forth to the world an On the 16th July, A.D. 165, and in the 236th out shame, actions, which prejudice and propriety, impressive example; to teach men to despise death, Olymp., such was the formal style in which it was anin civilized societies, have covered with a thick veil. and to bear pain with firmness and composure.

nounced, he ascended for the last time a pile, which he Such conduct was neither imitated nor approved. It was in vain he was told that a fear of death

had constructed with his own hands. Three miles from in a country warmly attached to ritual observance, was implanted in our bosoms for the wisest pur- Olympia, on the evening of a serene day, and the and which has been called the mother of supersti. poses, and that it was everyone's first duty to per

moon shining with a silver light, Peregrinus pretion. The disappointed cynic was driven with form the offices of society in that post in which

sented himself to the public eye, with a long train of ignominy from the banks of the Nile, and, repair. Providence had placed him.

followers, and others, whom curiosity or admiration ing to Rome, soothed his chagrin and gratified If he imagines,” said Lucian, on hearing of his had attracted. Laying aside his mantle, his wallet his pride, that pride which, in the human heart, design, “ that there is anything so very heroic in and his staff, he set fire to the fabric he had formed of puts on such a variety of forms, by loading with committing himself to the flames, I can furnish him fir and other materials; then scattering incense abuse the customs, &c. of the country, which with a long list of fools and madmen who have around him, and turning his face to the south, he tolerated his insolence. excelled in this his favourite exit.

exclaimed in a loud voice, “ Genii of my ancestors, He attacked that Iexcellent emperor and man,

« In the blaze of a fierce fire, as suffo tion is open your to receive me !" and, leaping into the Titus Antoninus, who proved that he was the true immediate, sensation ceases on the spot ; but on any flames, was soon reduced to ashes. philosopher by listening with patience to his im. occasions which rouses their zeal or animates their

Thus terminated the career of a man who may be pudent haranguer; and if any of the charges devotion, the Indian Brahmins literally roast them- said to have rendered himself extraordinary by his against him were true, by amending his conduct. selves by slow tires, voluntarily exposing themselves crimes, and the manner of his death. A prefect of the city, whose temper was very

to the agonies of death for several hours.
irritable, drove our unfortunate declaimer from “ If his passion arises merely from being tired of
the capitol; and, after passing through several life, he need only return to his own country, where, HINTS FOR TABLE TALK.
cities of Greece unnoticed or despised, he fixed as a parricide and an adulterer, he will instantly

No. VI.
his abode at Athens, where he attracted the notice receive the reward of his crimes.”
of A. Gellius, who has recorded several of their With all his firmness, the cynic appears to have

BEFORE BREAKFAST-THE BREAKFAST TABLE-A SKETCH conversations.

dreaded the fate to which he had devoted himself. One of his favourite topics was to inveigh He was not without hopes that by the interference of against what he called the folly of wrapping up his associates his proposed death would be prethe names of things, the harmless propensities of vented.

By some mistake or other I got up a little sooner nature, in refined phrase and delicate expression; But general expectation being roused, his abso

than usual the other morning. When I entered my he would perhaps have agreed with a certain lute and positive refusal to undergo that which he parlour the room had a clean but cold look which writer that there was an increase of sin, since bad had offered, besides lowering him in the esteem of

half inclines to make you shiver, like the sun in a women were called women of pleasure, and the his followers, his failure would have exposed him to

clear wintry day. The hearth was unsullied with crime of adultery softened in the modish denomi- the risk of being torn to pieces by the populace, ashes, and the coals in the grate, though blazing, nation of crim. con. who, on such occasions, are not disposed to submit

were black and square. The fire was yet in its inMore vain in his particular way than any man quietly to an impostor, who sports with their feelings fancy, and the flames and smoke gambolled in the

chimney like childhood. Betty was just in the act alive, he grossly attacked the public spirit of and insults their credulity. Herodes Atticus, a citizen, who, diffusing his Finding he could expect nothing from their

of unfolding the damask table-cloth. With a scienwealth in laudable exertion, and ornamenting his humanity, he appealed to their superstition ; spoke

tific sweep it was outspread in the air, and descended of celestial communication, &c., which forbade the

on to the table as (gently as a flake of snow. Nacountry by magnificent structures, reflected credit on the magnificence of a private man; many of execution of his purpose; but he had gone too far

ture's own hand gave grace to the drapery at the the comforts and even luxuries of life within the to retreat, and finding that he had no alternative,

corners, and the edge of every fold formed an illusreach of the poorest individual. but the death he had chosen, or a more shocking one,

tration of Hogarth's line of beauty. The territory on which the Olympic games were he prepared the pile with his own hands.

It was necessary to my comfort that I should emexhibited has been for ages a burning sand, the On the day appointed, and during the vast con

ploy myself until breakfast was ready, bearing in death of many a candidate from dust and heat; a course of the Olympic games, he appeared with a

mind the thousand times repeated lines of Watts' spot rendered classical by poets, and affording a train of attendants, addressed the people, and as

• Busy Bee'land-mark to the chronologist and historian, was serted that the evils he had suffered, and the pains

“ For Satan finds some mischief still, i scantily supplied with water; a reproach to the he had endured, were sufficient testimonies of his

For idle hands to do,”. avarice, the poverty, or the taste of the Greeks.' : attachment to philosophy without the present proof. Which is somewhat contradicted by old The quick-sighted zeal of Herodes provided for

He then spoke on the vanity of life, and the glory saying,—" that it is better to do mischief than the defect; he conducted, at a vast expense of of devoting ourselves to death for the benefit of others, be idle.", I was not in a humour to read, and money, a copious stream, supplied from distant but was interrupted by the 'shouts of his friends, it was against my grain to sit looking at my finsprings by an aqueduct, which, uniting magnifi- who exclaimed that such a man ought to live for the gers. Pens, ink, and paper were lying invitingly on cence with utility, was the wonder and ornament sake of his country, for the instruction and edifica- the side table, but to write before breakfast was out of his country.

tion of mankind. These words were instantly over. of the question, so I began to act the limner, and A work, which it was difficult to speak or even powered by the voices of a very considerable majority, sketch the scene before me—the breakfast table. think of without praise, which excited general who insisted that a non-performance of that which he The table, covered with the cloth, was the first thing, approbation, was considered by Peregrinus as a had promised was unworthy of the character he had then as the cups and saucers, bread, butter, eggs, good opportunity to exert his talent at satire and assumed, that a philosopher ought to set an example egg cups, plates, and all the necessary et cetera were abuse. of consistency and faith.

placed upon it by Betty, I placed them on paper He attacked Herodes as vain-glorious and os. “Conduct him to the pile !" re-echoing on every with pen and ink. You see the sketch on the oppotentatious, in thus lavishing his wealth on an un side, filled our philosopher with terror and dismay site page, dear Mr Editor, and could the reader see

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COFFEE-CUP

CHAT-COFFEE-DRINKING-TOO

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ity, Cude

Up

GETTING AN

APPETITE-ARABIAN

NIGHTS-DIA

LOGUE CONDEMNED APPEAL.

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an

of

it, I should not be at such pains in describing it. The perspective is not quite so bad as Hogarth's caricature upon that subject.

From drawing a sketch I proceeded to write a sketch, and further to introduce figures upon the picture, and to put words into their mouths. Here is the whole affair-the picture-the scene-the characters-and the dialogue Table Talk, and

[Here the reader is to suppose a breakfast table very graphically set forth, with urn, teapot, milk-jug, egg-cups, &c.]

JENTAC. No, I would not have that either, especially as it is in your own house, but let us split the difference, and talk, eat, and sip alternately.

THEO. That, I think, is the most intellectual way of enjoying this beverage, bearing in mind not to let either of these performances flag; keeping the battery of wit well supplied with ammunition—taking care the garrison fall not short in the victualling department

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JENTAC. Stop, stop, I have not finished my reply to your first batch. In the second place, I always make punctuality a point-upon an appointment especially in the gastronomic way-'tis due to my friend's comfort, and to my own gratification

THEO. Come, Jack, a truce to your talking-the coffee will spoil.

JENTAC. I would not have the weight of such a transgression on my head, so here's for it.

THEO. "Fa' ta-fa' ta!" as a Scotchman would say to his guests at parriteti. I leave you to help yourself, I shall find it quite employment enough to attend to my own appetite.

JENTAC. Then you grant me a dispensation-a permission to set etiquette at naught?

THEO. To be sure. You shall enjoy full liberty while in my dominions.

JENTAC. Talking of liberty-coffee and liberty are not subjects which harmonise very well togethercoffee associates in the mind with Turkey-the most absolute of despotisms, and where one would run the risk of being made a head shorter for a less offence than placing the spoon on the wrong side of the cup. THEO. Very true; coffee often puts me in mind of the pleasures of absolute power. Say what you will -frown as ye will, ye moralists, and smile as ye will, ye demagogues, there is an unspeakable pleasure in the thoughts of having at one's command all

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JENTAC. A truce! there-your lecture on politics will turn my coffee weak and waterish. If you will talk, friend Theophilus, let it be of coffee; add to the flavour of this delicious cup, anecdotes of its virtues; how authors have watered the soil of their brain with it, how Eastern warriors have refreshed themselves after the toils of blood on the battle field, and how British tars in the present day sing the praises of Arabia's berry, as of old they did of grog.

THEO. Verily, friend Jentaculum, thou art as learned upon that subject as am I. Thou art noted as a teller of anecdotes, and retailer of facts, scraps, and reminiscences. Can'st thou find naught on coffee in the index of thy mind?

JENTAC. I'faith, yes, friend Quaker, but I would rather sip my coffee, and hear you speak. When I have put an end thereunto then will I speak.

THEO. Am I, then, not to enjoy my coffee, but act the part of your slave, as among the Romans of old, and recite while you eat?

"Nor o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon." Especially this last item I would have attended to. To allow your coffee to cool is an insult to your host, as much as to say you care not for him or his coffee. There is nothing more execrable than such stuff. It is like the hatred of a brother-love turned into hate; delicious when replete with caloric; wanting that

nauseous.

THEO. Patience! Jack, patience and I beg you will not lay the blame to me. You exceeded the limits of my advice; I only meant that coffee should be drank as hot as is convenient and safe to the pa

late and the system, and in this direction I am supported by no less an authorty than Lord Bacon, who says that it should be taken as hot as one can drink it, and that thereby it comforteth the brain and heart, and helpeth digestion

JENTAC. Devil take Lord Bacon, and digestion Will they never bring the water to cool my tongue?

too.

THEO. Patience, my dear fellow, is said to be a virtue. Strive, therefore, to

JENTAC. Theophilus, you have no feeling for one. Just give a tug at the bell to expedite the lazy dog!

THEO. I have heard it said, that proverbs should not be quoted in genteel society, and therefore I shall not say though 'tis on my tongue's end— JENTAC. 'Tis at my tongue's root. "Oh! could I kill with cursing."

THEO. I was saying, worthy Jentaculus, that it was at my tongue's end to repeat, in spite of Lord Chesterfield, a proverb-" Talk of the Devil "[Tiger enters) and here he is.

JENTAC. By all that's merciful he has brought the water hot-sottering from Pandemonium! Get out, ye imp, and bring me ice, and water from the Arctic regions ! Cold water-blockhead! to cool my tongue!

THEO. Be not too hasty, Jack! No doubt the lad knew thy complaint, and brought thee wherewith to cure it. Heat hath affinity for heat, and so the hot water will extract the hot coffee from thy tongue. JENTAC. O! thou Job's comforter. Hold with thy raillery, and cool my tongue!

THEO. Drink turpentine, and that will do't. (Enter Tiger with ewer of water. Jentac. seizes it, and makes one long draught of the contents).

JENTAC. Oh, that was cooling! I would not have exchanged it for Jove's immortal nectar. I would not have taken that ewer from my mouth to ransom nations.

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(Jentac. looks suspiciously at Theo. and, taking his cup, empties it at a gulp.)

JENTAC. Oh-0-0-0 !-There, Theophilus, is a proof of my regard for you worthy of a Roman stoic. I've swallowed a cup of boiling coffee at a gulp, and thereby scalded my tongue. Water! water! So much for your advice! You were getting so energetic about hot coffee, that I began to think there JENTAC. Quite enough on that score, I think; but, might be some personal inuendoes. suppose every bachelor contributed as much, it Pray, Theophilus, ring for water. would amount to no contemptible sum-total. But, Tiger enters.) my worthy Theophilus, you have calculated your THEO. Some water instantly-quick! coffee cold, you have made it minus the caloric you JENTAC. Fly, ye dog! (Exit Tiger.) O my lately mentioned as so essential to its being relished. tongue!

O my tongue! (Rings the bell—

THEO. Most true, Jentaculus, the coffee is coldbut here, 'tis soon remedied [empties it into the slopbasin]. Now let me fill it again with a cup that is

THEO. You will have changed your opinion on that subject by the time the dinner cloth is removed. JENTAC. It may be so; so much for the influence of circumstances. But the cold water was as precious to me at that moment as it sometimes is to the travellers on the deserts of Arabia

to drink it as hot only as you can bear, and recollect, also, that in all remarks I may hereafter chance to make, present company is excepted.

THEO. Halt at Arabia—that reminds me to re-fill your cup. Put milk in first to your taste-now sugar: there's a cup fit for a Sultan! But recollect

JENTAC. I'll endeavour to follow your advice.

THEO. Do. But recollect that even if, in so doing, you meet with any mishaps, I am not to be answerable therefore. Let me fill your cup again.

JENTAC. No, thankee, I'm perfectly satisfied-had quite enough, and a scalded throat into the bargain!

THEO. Come! we'll drop the subject of the throat; but you are not really serious? Come, keep me company, I am only at my fifth cup. I must have

my quantum of ten.

JENTAC. Well, if I take another cup you must not mind me trifling over it with the spoon till it's cold (you said something of that just now)-for I must make the one last out your coming five,

THEO. Don't you think, Jack, that I should receive some token of approbation from Government, or contributing so much to the Treasury in the shape of the duty on coffee? I was calculating the other day, and find that it amounts to seven pounds eight. shillings every year for coffee alone—not so much as I had thought though, after all.

relishable.

JENTAC. A certain Utilitarian friend of mine, whose name would give any one an appetite, says, that the best way to enjoy a breakfast is a willingness to be pleased with what is before you. How in the world can you make such a hearty breakfast without raising an appetite by a walk !

THEO. That is the very thing that would take away my appetite. I must have my breakfast immediately I am up, otherwise I could not relish all the dainties in the world.

JENTAC. Here then we differ. I must have a walk before breakfast, if 'tis but a turn round a garden, or across a yard twelve feet square. 'Tis all the effect of a variety of constitution.

THEO. We'll ask our friend Esculapius to explain the why and the wherefore to us. Were I in the best humour imaginable, and desiring to be pleased with all the world, I could not relish my breakfast if I had to walk before it.

JENTAC. Then, as matters stand, we have been both accommodated in our appetites. I have had a walk here before breakfast, and you enjoy it on the spot. How do you manage when you are invited out to breakfast?

THEO. Make a preliminary operation before I go out six cups out of my ten, at least. I cannot do otherwise, if I wish to preserve my day's comfort-as I do not possess Aladdin's lamp or ring to enable me to transport myself in an instant, and without any

exertion.

JENTAC. Talking of Aladdin's lamp, I used often when alone over my coffee to fall to musing upon the luxurious scenes of the region of the Arabian Nights,' and imagine the beauteous Sultana sipping coffee in bed, by the side of the Sultan, to clear her sweet throat, as she endeavoured to spin out the thread of her tales and her life. But all these visions were dispelled by the London Journalist, who declares that coffee is not once mentioned in the whole tales of the thousand and one nights-that the Arabian berry had not been discovered at that time. Such appears to be the fact, but, as I hope to drink another cup! when I was at school I obtained as a prize a copy of the Arabian Nights,' the frontispiece of which was a very pretty copperplate, of the Sultan and Sultana sitting up in a very handsome modern four-post bedstead the sister sitting at the foot, and some black slaves pouring ou

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coffee, a cup of which the Vizir's daughter held in her hand.

THEO. Ha ha! ha! All artists do not attend very closely to appropriateness of custom and cos

tume.

JENTAC. Coffee seems to be so connected in my mind with Arabia, that I cannot divest myself of the idea.

THEO. Wine, sherbet was their coffee, cakes and fruit their bread and butter, and dates their eggs.

Thus far had I proceeded, when I suggested to myself, that, in writing in such a strain, I was likely to have nothing more than "my labour for my pains." That it was too thick and muddy for any one to wade through. That it was "flat and unprofitable," and so "weary," or rather "wearisome," as to require all the animating powers of the subject— coffee to arouse the reader. The time is gone by when "amusing and instructive dialogues" would be tolerated. It would require a first-rate pen, and a thousand times more wit than you possess, good myself, to render the thing bearable. Besides, the breakfast-table is not the place for such conversation. The pair who would sit down for an hour at a time, and propose, as in the dialogue, would deserve nothing less than to be made President and Vice of a Temperance Society (and no disparagement to that, either). Moreover, the buffoonery respecting the "hot coffee is very miserable. Such nonsense is only tolerated in 'Blackwood.' The original is poor, and detracts greatly from the merits of those inimitable colloquies, and every copy must be shocking.*

Thus did I condemn what myself had written; and there followed a wavering of mind whether the flames should consume it or not. I did not like the idea of so much clean paper being sullied to no purpose, and so the decision was, to refer to the London Journalist for judgment, who will perhaps consider the matter worth putting to a jury of readers.

So here you have it, Mr Editor, with prologue and epilogue. Is the verdict to be "guilty "or "not guilty"? whether from judge or jury, I bow to the decision. BOOKWORM.

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We are not acquainted with all the dialogue of this sort in Blackwood'; but with respect to what we have seen of it, we must differ with our friend BOOKWORM. The animal spirits are genuine, and those are half the secret in all" admirable fooling." The rest must consist of subtle intimations of thought; and there is no want of those.-ED.

MORE POETS ON THE ICE. [WE have the greater pleasure in giving insertion to the following communication of one of our fair Readers, inasmuch as it speaks of Mr Heraud's 'Judgment of the Flood,' a poem which it has been upon our conscience not to have quoted sooner.]

6

taste.

DEAR SIR,-It is with much pleasure that I perused, in No. 44, your article, Ice with Poets upon it.' Nothing can be more delightful than those same poets whom you have exhibited so gracefully cutting figures on the ice. Shelley, Wordsworth, Milton, Redi, and Phillips play their parts with equal honour to their original skill and your critical You, of course, are not unaware of the fine use which Cowper has made of the subject in The Task,' since you have mentioned the fancy of Catherine the Second: the quotation was, however, too trite for such pages as yours, which rightly affect the choice and the recherché. But, as a lover of German literature, I cannot let the occasion pass without alluding to the beautiful descriptions connected with skaiting in some odes of Klopstock.

The Odes' of Klopstock, says a writer in the 'Foreign Review,'-written for relaxation during the composition of The Messiah'-exhibit the writer as a man, a poet, a lover, a friend, a husband, a patriot, and a Christian. Neither has he been ashamed to register his favourite amusements. In the exercise of skaiting and horse-riding he much delighted, nor has he left them uncelebrated.

The following is a translation of one of his 'Odes on the former theme. It is intitled

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The literal fidelity with which this translation seems to be executed (to say nothing of the peculiarities of Klopstock's lyrical compositions) gives the above a quaint turn of expression, which, however, will not be displeasing to the Reader, who will take the trouble to understand the ode, and imagine himself in the situation of the skaiters described in it.

Another piece of Klopstock's, called The Art of Tialfa giant who is said to have invented the art of skaiting (according to the Scandinavian mythology) is of still more intricate structure. It has, nevertheless, been highly praised by Madame de Stael, and well deserves her eulogy. In the December number (1831) of Fraser's Magazine' a translation of this ode is given, but it is too long for quotation, and I am afraid, would with difficulty be rendered intelligible. It is composed in a kind of dialogue between three bards, and is distinguished by much life and character. The heroine of the lyric drama is conveyed in a sledge down the icetorrent surrounded with skaiters, and listening to a youth behind, who joyously impels forward the car, in which she reposes. "The youth the maiden loves, and she loves him, they celebrate to-day their nuptial-day."

The translations of these very difficult pieces, I have been told, were executed by Mr Heraud, the author of those two singularly extraordinary poems——

The Judgment of the Flood,' and 'The Descent into Hell,' to whose pen we are also indebted for the two articles in the Foreign Review,' and Fraser's Magazine,' in which they occur. Neither has he forgotten the subject itself in his own poetry. There is an allusion in The Judgment of the Flood' to that infernal ice described by Milton, in the passage quoted by you from The Paradise Lost.' The allusion occurs in Mr Heraud's description of Dudael;' it is as follows:

C

"The Sarsar sped

His ice-bolts through the wide waste wilderness, And, from his black surcharged cloud aloft, Made desolation yet more desolate With cold, whereto the cold within the land Of Hades, or the frozen tracts of Hell Were comparable only; so intense, Extreme, and bitter; and it smote all things, And in the heart of all things mortal burn'd; Tree, bole and branches, with the writhen bolt Of winter blasted, leafless, barkless, sapless, Base and of life devoid; and herb and weed Wither'd; and in their headlong torrent floods' Congeal'd, and stiffen'd to a stony sheet. The wild steed stood aghast, whom rein had ne'er Check'd, now by more than human vigour curb'd, And in the human veins the vigorous blood Was shackled, and the rivers of the heart Were as a seal'd fountain, and the veins Parch'd became brittle like to glass, and broke, Or harden'd into marble. Over them The ice-wind wrought its work; but on the

ground

They clasp'd the bosom of maternal earth,
Unconscious, and the spirit's misery

Had made the flesh insensible to change."

Take also the following scene from The Descent into Hell':

"Hell slowly unfolds her adamantine door-
Hell hath her gates unfolded. Lo! as it were
A mausoleum wide as chaos, or

The Ninth of Space, an infinite Sepulchre,
Yet wall'd about; the Ward of Death and Sin
Not silent; sleep with Hope, is alien here.

Lo! shadowy thrones and phantoms there-within
Inaugurate, crown'd strangely. Spectres vast
As of blue ice compart, and making din

As shadowy, phantom sounds, their voice a blast
Heard o'er the polar wild's vacuity,

That goes unquestion'd on, lost and aghast,
Seeking for ought to guide its voyage by,
One barren stamp, a solitary stone,
Half-shriek-half-whistle, and finds no reply.

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Half-raised, expectant on his icy throne
Each in his cell; his eyes' impatient glow,
Now glancing on the desert, and now gone-
Like Boreas' light on Hecla's haunted brow,
Glasing his aspect with a ghostly gleam;
now there - evanish'd

Here twinkling now

now

From the void forehead like a transient dream,

The void cold forehead, and the fitful light

Of massy and monarchal diadem,

Now beamless; and all dusk as the sad night The regal pall; hangs the broad shoulder o'er Frozen in gorgeous folds, and moveless quite.

I Burns now that starless air intenselier frore-
Heard ye not hoofs on that ice pavement clang
In rampart fury or triumph? Hark! once more,

The voice of storms through all that region rang: Near and more near-the voice of many stormsWhom hera'ding? Gaunt Death! the Heralds sang." It is not for me to enlarge on the picturesque beauty and sublimity of such passages as these. I have done my part in bringing them before you and your Readers. Lest I should make this communication too long, I beg leave now to remain, Your sincere admirer,

And constant Reader, HARRIET DOWNING. 74, Charlotte street, Fitzroy square, February 3rd.

FINE ARTS.
Gallery of Portraits.

Charles Knight. THIS part of the excellent Portrait Gallery' contains Jeremy Taylor, Lavoisier, and Sydenham. Taylor's portrait is nicely engraved, by Holl; it is a face of great power and benignity, befitting a liberal and sincere churchman. Lavoisier is rather chalky in the engraving, indistinct, and a little rotten (as it is termed) in the work. There is a little of that self-complacency of expression which we are so ready to accuse our continental neighbours of exhibiting, but real benevolence and intellect. His fate was one of the worst and most gratuitous of the cruelties into which the revolutionists of France were hurried by oppression and ignorance. Sydenham's portrait is not one of Scriven's happiest works; it is forcible, and the expression is good; but the execution is black and heavy, an unusual fault in the engraver's performances. The features of this great physician are eminently characteristic of the goodness and geniality of his nature.

TABLE TALK.

FONTENELLE.

The intimate society of the Hotel de Breteuil was composed at most of twenty habitués, for whom plates were daily laid out for supper, according to the custom of the times and the hospitality of this opulent and generous house. To give you a brief idea of it, it is sufficient to tell you that my uncle and aunt had, in Paris only, forty-four domestics. Monsieur Fontenelle came there to supper regularly on Thursdays. He was then forty-five years of age, but one would never have supposed him to be more than thirty-six. He was a pretty handsome man, five feet eight inches high, with an intelligent look. His countenance was open and eminently cheerful. He was the best formed man imaginable; and, though he had acquired the habit of walking bent, all his motions were graceful and easy; in a word, his personal appearance was particularly courtly and elegant. I assure you that Fontenelle was benevolence and charity exemplified; he gave yearly a quarter of his income to the curate of his parish for the poor, and I never heard him accused of egotism or insensibility. He related before me that ridiculous story of the asparagus with oil, but he named it as having happened to a doctor of Sorbonne, and it was forty or fifty years afterwards, when Voltaire had the treachery to produce it again, as if Fontenelle had been its hero. "How can they accuse you of wanting sensi

bility, my dear and good Fontenelle?" said my aunt one day to him. "Because I am not yet dead," replied he, smiling. He had the greatest confidence in strawberries, in consequence of having regularly had a fever every spring. He used to say, if I can reach the season of strawberries!-He had the happiness to reach it ninety-nine times, and it is to the use of strawberries that he always attributed his longevity.-Memoirs of the Marchioness de Créquy.

CICERO'S VILLA AT ARPINUM.

The spot, embellished with all the ornaments of hills and valleys, and wood and waterfalls, was one of Cicero's most favourite retreats. When Atticus first visited it, he was so charmed that, instead of wondering as before that it was such a favourite residence of his friend, he expressed his surprise that he ever retired elsewhere; declaring, at the same time, his contempt of the marble pavements, arched ceilings, and artificial canals of magnificent villas, compared with the tranquility and natural beauties of Arpinum. Cicero, indeed, appears at one time to have thought of the island, formed by the Fibrenus, as the place most suitable for the monument which he intended to raise to his beloved daughter Tullia. The situation of this villa was close to the spot where now stands the city of Sora. "The Liris," says Eustace, "still bears its ancient name till it passes Sora, when it is called the Garigliano. The Fibrenus, still so called, falls into it a little below Sora, and continues to encircle the island in which Cicero lays the scene De Legibus. Arpinum, also, still retains its name. Modern travellers bear ample testimony to the scenery round Sora being such as fully justified the fond partiality of Cicero and the admiration of Atticus." " Nothing," says Mr Kelsall, "can be imagined finer than the surrounding landscape. The deep azure of the sky, unvaried by a single cloud— Sora on a rock at the foot of the precipitous Appenines-both banks of the Garigliano covered with vineyards—the fragor aquarum alluded to by Atticus in the work De Legibus-the coolness, rapidity, and ultra-marine line of the Fibrenus-the noise of its cataracts-the rich turquoise colour of the Liris—the minor Appenines round Arpino, crowned with umbrageous oaks to their very summits-presenting scenery hardly to be equalled, certainly not to be surpassed, even in Italy. The spot where Cicero's villa stood, was, in the time of Middleton, possessed by a convent of monks, and was called the villa of St Dominic. It was built in the year 1030, from the fragments of the Arpine villa!

"Art, Glory, Freedom, fail-but Nature still is fair." Cicero always considered the citizens of Arpinum as under his particular protection and patronage; and it is pleasant to find, that its modern inhabitants still testify, in various ways, due veneration for their illustrious townsman. Their theatre is called the Teatro Tulliano, of which a drop scene is painted with a bust of the orator; and even now, workmen are employed in building a new town hall, with niches, destined to receive statues of Marias and Cicero.-Dunlop's History of Roman Literature.

REASON WHY CATS ARE FOND OF CHILDREN'S CRADLes.

A cat, which had been long remarked as one of the wildest of those which frequented a barn on the borders of a wood in Ayrshire-so wild indeed as to be seldom seen-was several times during a sharp frost observed, with no little surprise, to pass and repass into the adjacent farm-house, which it had not for some years been known either to enter or approach. It might have been inferred that it was compelled by hunger, had not this been the best season for catching birds; but, in one of its stealthy visits, it was very snugly coiled up beside a baby in the cradle, to the no small horror of the mother, who imagined, in accordance with the popular prejudice, that it had come to suck away the baby's breath. All we could say to pursuade her of the impossibility of the cat doing this was of no avail, and orders were immediately given to every servant on the farm to kill the poor cat wherever she could be found; her caution and agility, however, were long successful in saving her, and though the persecution she thus

experienced rendered her, if possible, much wilder than before, yet she was not thereby deterred-not even after being wounded by a pitch-fork, and her leg lamed by throwing a hatchet at her-from pay. ing a daily visit to the baby in the cradle, because it was the warmest place within her knowledge, and next to food she considered warmth as indispensable to life. She persisted thus in venturing to the cradle till she was at length intercepted and killed. Faculties of Birds. (Library of Entertaining Knowledge). A very interesting volume.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

A. M. is informed (we wish we could insert his pleasant letter) that the back numbers of the LONDON JOURNAL are to be procured at the office, in Pall Mall East or (by order) of any newsman.

!

Our friend B. S. thinks that our perplexity about want of room, in connexion with the best possible legibility, would be settled by leaving out the leads; that is, bringing the lines closer together. But close. ness of lines is one of the very things complained of by eyes which do not readily catch their commence

ment.

The LONDON JOURNAL does not go upon the plan mentioned by BEPPO.

H. A. in a very flattering manner, informs us of a surprising piece of intelligence; to wit, that we do not edit our own paper!

(“Garth did not write his own Dispensary.")

We can only say, that so far from being aware of the fact, we have been fancying ourselves writing every week for the JOURNAL, ever since it was set up,Leading Articles, Weeks, Notes and Comments, &c. But perhaps we shall wake up from all this, and find we are somebody else.

We should be glad to find ourselves side by side with A READER OF THE LONDON JOURNAL on the top of the coach he speaks of.

Our respects to Mr G. B., and he will have the goodness to look at the answer given this day to

BEPPO.

We will consider what is so kindly mentioned by ONE OF OUR WARMEST WELL-WISHERS.

We should be glad to insert the account of the

Village Priest,' sent us by PHILANTHROPOS, but fear that some points of it might be thought unsuited to our unpolitical and uncontroversial paper.

There is genuine poetical feeling in the Vision' of ONE OF OUR READERS; but it would generally be looked upon as somewhat obscure; and we could wish that the author would take a more hopeful subject. His letter respecting the Indicator' and 'Companion,' shall be forwarded to the publisher.

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We must try (modesty apart) if we cannot insert some passages from the letter of our cordial friend W. H. Meantime will he oblige us by stating what was the exact amount, or style, of the 'repulse' he speaks of? for we cannot but think he misconceived it.

Latin versions so long as those sent by 'JUVENIS' would be complained of in a publication addressed to the Many.

We do not remember having seen any Valentine signed E.

A.'s versions from Anacreon do him credit, but there are so many others of a like merit and elegance before the public, that their insertion would subject us to the remonstrance alluded to in our answer to JUVENIS.

Numerous poetical contributions must take our good will for our deed.

PRIMROSE shall be noticed, and we hope to his satisfaction, in a week or two.

DACIAN writes in the style of one whom we are extremely desirous to agree with. We do not apprehend he will have much reason to be dissatisfied with us. All the parties concerned think as he does, with regard to the spirit of the matter.

LONDON: Published by H. HOOPER, Pall Mall East, and supplied to Country Agents by C. KNIGHT, Ludgate-street. From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street,

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though it is a very fitting accompaniment. The the reader complains of “weak eyes,” or says that it SUNDAY IN LONDON.

dullest street, the dullest room upon earth, is suf. is unaccountable how sleepy reading makes him, con{The Editor having been busy with a new poem ficient, and becomes a spot radiant beyond the dreams sidering he is so " fond” of it; bibs are pulled up which he is about to publish, intitled “Captain Sword

of princes.
and Captain Pen,' takes the liberty of substituting midst of all the splendour of Windsor Castle, and

Think of George the Fourth in the about the gentleman's chin, and gowns admired by

their fair wearers; and the patients lounge towards for his usual leading article the following remarks under the above title, which he wrote some time ago youth, and her love, looking in the eyes of the man

then of this poor maid-servant, with her health, her the window, to wonder whether it is fine, or is clear. for the Weekly True Sun,' and which the proprie- she is fond of, and hardly able to speak for gratitude

ing up, or to look at the rain-drops, or see what Mrs

Smith is doing over the way. The young gentlemen tors of that paper (with the liberality th: characte

and joy. We grant that there is no comparison, in or ladies look at the Bible, or the calendar, or the rises them in all their dealings) have kindly permitted

one sense, between the two individuals, the poor old army-list, or the last magazine, or their trinkets, bim to reprint. They appeared when the newspaper King, with his efforts at being fine and happy, and and wonder whether Richard will come ; and the in question was young, and had nothing of its pre

the poor young girl, with her black worsted stockings little children are told not to sing. sent sale; so that they will be new to by far the

and leaping bosom, as happy as her heart can make But the lovers! greater part of our readers. The rest will have the

her. But the contrast may serve to remind us that These, however, we shall keep till the last, agreekindness to put up with the repetition for the sake of

we may attribute happiness wrongly in fine places, ably to the demands of climax. their old acquaintance, the author. ]

and miss it erroneously in common ones. Windsor But, stay a moment. — It is astonishing what a deal of good stuff, of some Castle is sufficient beauty to itself, and has poetical So tender, or rather, according to Mr Bentham's sort or another, inherent or associated, there is in memories; but in the commonest street we see there philosophy, so “extra-regarding prudent,” and so every possible thing that can be talked of; and how may be the richest real joy.

“felicity-maximising," is our heart, that we fear we it will look forth out of the dullest windows of com. Love is not peculiar to London on Sundays: they may have been thought a little hard, by those mon-place, if sympathy do but knock at the door, have it even in Edinburgh, notwithstanding what a whom we have described 'as uniting a sleepiness

There is that house for instance, this very Sunday, fair charmer in • Tait's Magazine' tells us, with such over their books with a profession of astonishment at
No. 4 Ballycroft row, in the Smithy; did you ever a staid countenance, of the beatitudes of self-reflec- their tendency, considering they are “so fond of
see such a house, so dull, so drearily insipid, so very tion into which her countrymen retire on that day. books.” But mistake us not, dear non-readers who
rainy-bad-Sunday like? old, yet not so old as to be Otherwise, out of love alone, we might render our happen to be reading us, or who read a newspaper
venerable; poor, yet not enough so to be pitied; the dull-looking metropolitan Sabbath the brightest day though you read little else. Nothing would we ever
bricks black ; the place no thoroughfare; no chance in the week. And so it is, and in Edinburgh too, willingly say to the useless mortification of anybody,
of a hackney-coach going by; the maid-servant has and all the Sabbath-day world over ; for though, much less of those who love anything whatsoever,
just left the window, yawning. But now, see who is seriously speaking, we do not deny the existence of especially a newspaper; and all the fault we find
turning the corner, and comes up the row. Some the tranquil and solitary contemplations just alluded with you is, for thinking it necessary to vindicate
eminent man, perhaps ? Not he. He is eminent to, yet assuredly they are as nothing compared to the your reputation for sense and sympathy on one par-
for nothing, except among five or six fellow-appren- thoughts connected with every-day matters; and ticular score, when you might do it to better advan-
tices, for being the best hand among them at turning love, fortunately, is an every-day matter, as well as tage by regretting the want of the very fondness you
a button.
But look how he eyes, all the way, the money.

Our Sunday streets look dull enough, lay claim to. For in claiming to be fond of books, house we have been speaking of—see how he bounds Heaven knows, especially in the more trading parts when you are not, you show yourselves unaware of up the steps—with what a face, now cast down the of the metropolis. At the west end of the town, in the self-knowledge which books help us to obtain; area, and now raised to the upper windows, he gives Marylebone, and the squares, it looks no duller than whereas, if you boldly and candidly expressed your his humble yet impressive knock—and lo! now look it does on other days; and taking the spirit of the

regret at not being fond of them, you would show at the maid-servant's face, as she darts her head out thing, there is no real Sunday among the rich. that you had an understanding so far superior to of the window, and instantly draws it back again, ra- Their going to church is a lounge and a show; their the very want of books, and far greater than that of diant with delight. It is Tom Hicks, who has come meals are the same as at other times; their evenings the mechanical scholar, who knows the words in up from Birmingham a week before she expected the same; there is no difference in the look of their them, and nothing else. You would show that you him, The door is opened almost as soon as the face houses outside. But in the city, the Strand, &c., knew what you wanted, and were aware of the pleais seen; and now is there love and joy in that house, the shutting-up of the shops gives an extreme aspect sures that you missed: and perhaps it would turn and consequently a grace in the street, and it looks of dulness and melancholy to the streets. Those

out, on inquiry, that you had only been indifferent quite a different place, at least in the eyes of the windows, full of gaiety, and colour, and bustle, being to books in the gross, because you had not met with loving and the wise. shut, the eyes of the houses seem put out.

the sort of reading suitable to your turn of mind. This is our secret for making the dullest street in clean clothes and comparatively staid demeanour of Now, we are not bound to like books unsuitable to the metropolis, nay the squalidest and worst, put forth the passengers make no amends for the loss ;

for

us, any more than a poet is bound to like law-books, some flower of pleasantness (for the seeds of good with the exception of special friends and visitors, or a lawyer the study of Arabic, or a musician any find strange corners to grow in, could people but cul- lovers in particular, it is well understood in London books but his own feelings; nor is anyone, more tivate them): and if our secret is not productive to that Sunday is really a dull day to most people. than the musician, bound to like books at all, proeverybody, it is no fault of ours : nay, for that mat- They have outlived the opinions which gave it an vided he loves the things which books teach us to ter, it is none of theirs ; but we pity them, and have interest of a peculiar sort, and their notions of reli- love, and is for sowing harmony and advancement reason to think ourselves richer. We happened to gion have become either too utilitarian or too cheer. around him, in tones of good-humour and encouragebe walking through some such forlorn-looking street ful to admire the old fashion of the day any longer. ment, to the kindly dance of our planet. with the late Mr Hazlitt, when we told him we had a Rest, with insipidity, is its character in the morning, One of the pleasantest sights on a Sunday morncharm against the melancholy of such places; and on newspaper reading excepted: church is reckoned dull, ing in the metropolis—to us, of course, particularly his asking what it was, and being informed, he acperhaps attended out of mere habit “and for the sake

so—but justly also to all well-disposed and thinking knowledged, with a look between pleasure and sor- of example," or avoided from day to day, till non- Christians—is the numerous shops exhibiting weekly row, that it was a true one. The secret came home attendance becomes another habit : dinner under

papers for sale—the placards of our hebdomadal to him ; but he could have understood, though he any circumstances is looked to with eagerness as the brethren, blue, yellow, and white, vociferous with had not felt it. Fancy two lovers, living in the same great relief; the day then brightens up with the large types, and calling the passenger's attention to street, either of whom thinks it a delight to exist in help of an extra dish, pudding, or friend; and the Parliamentary investigations, monstrous convictions, the same spot, and is happy for the morning if one visits of friends help to make the evening as lively as horrible murders, noble philanthropies, and the hulook is given through the window-pane. It puts it well can be without the charm of business and manities of books, theatres, and the fine arts. Justly your thoughts in possession of the highest and money-taking. Should there be no visitors, the case did the divine heart, who suffered his disciples to most celestial pleasure on earth. No “milk-white is generally helpless. The man and wife yawn, or

pluck the ears of corn, and would have the sheep thorn that scents the evening gale" is necessary to it, are quiet, or dispute; a little bit of book is read, till extricated from the ditch on a Sabbath, refuse to From the Steam-Press of C. & W.REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street. 1

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