{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10950/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10950","id":"gutenberg_10950","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10950","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Architecture","Category: Encyclopedias/Dictionaries/Reference","Category: History - British","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Popular literature -- Great Britain -- Periodicals","The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction"],"text":"THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.\n\nVOL 13, No. 355., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1829. [PRICE 2d.]\n\n\n\n\nVILLAS IN THE REGENT'S PARK.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: MARQUESS OF HERTFORD'S VILLA.]\n\n[Illustration: DORIC VILLA.]\n\n\nThe definition of the word _villa_ is a country seat; but the reader\nwill ask, how can a country seat be in the midst of a metropolis, or in\nits brick and mortar confines? The term, however, admits of various\nmodifications. The villas of the Romans resembled large city palaces\nremoved into the country, and some of them were four times larger than\nVersailles with its three thousand apartments. The villas of modern\nRome likewise more resemble palaces than abodes of domestic\nconvenience; and one of them, the Villa Mondrogone, has more windows\nthan there are days in the year. Such are the Italian villas, of which\nthe name conveys as accurate an idea as the English reader acquires\nfrom the French _chateau_, which, in reality, implies a comfortless\nfactory-looking abode, with a blaze of fresco embellishments.\n\nThe first engraving in the annexed page is the villa, or, we should\nrather say, the suburban retreat, of the Marquess of Hertford, designed\nby Mr. Decimus Burton. The noble owner, who has enjoyed the peculiar\nadvantages of travel, and is a man of _vertu_ and fine taste, has\nselected a design of beautiful simplicity and chastity of style. The\nentrance-hall is protected by a hexastyle (six column) portico of that\nsingular Athenian order, which embellishes the door of the Tower of the\nWinds. The roof is Venetian, with projecting eaves; and the wings are\nsurmounted by spacious glass lanterns, which light the upper rooms. The\nbuildings and offices are on a larger scale than any other in the park,\nand correspond in style with the opulence of the noble owner. The\noffices are spread out, like the villas of the ancients, upon the\nground-floor. Adjoining the front of the villa is a tent-like canopy,\nsurmounting a spacious apartment, set aside, we believe, for splendid\n_dejeun\u00e9_ entertainments in the summer. This roof may be seen from\nseveral parts of the park. The entrance lodge is particularly chaste,\nthe gates are in handsome park-like style; and the plantations and\nornamental gardens in equally good taste. The establishment is, as we\nhave said, the most extensive in the Regent's Park, and is in every\nrespect in correspondent taste with the beautiful Italian fronted town\nresidence of the noble marquess, opposite the Green Park, in\nPiccadilly; and its luxurious comforts well alternate with the\nfashionable hospitalities of Sudborne Hall, the veritable _country\nseat_ of this distinguished nobleman.\n\nThe second engraving is another specimen of the Regent's Park villa\nstyle. The order is handsome Doric; but much cannot be said in praise\nof its adaptation to a suburban residence. It nevertheless adds the\ncharm of variety to the buildings that stud and encircle the park, and\nintermingle with lawns and bowery walks with more prettiness than rural\ncharacter.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nDESTRUCTION OF THE INTERIOR OF YORK MINSTER.[1]\n\n\nOn Monday morning last, this magnificent structure was discovered to be\non fire. Soon after the alarm was given, the bells of twenty-three\nchurches announced the dismal tidings; but for some time the people\nlooked upon the report as a hoax, and it was not until after the lapse\nof an hour that the city was fairly roused to a sense of the impending\ncalamity.\n\nOn the Sunday evening previous, there was service in the Minster, as\nusual, and all appeared to be left safe. A light was, however, observed\nin the building, by a man passing through the Minster-yard, about four\no'clock on Monday morning; but he supposed some workmen were employed\nthere, and passed on without inquiry. Between six and seven o'clock,\nthe discovery was made in an extraordinary manner. One of the\nchoristers passing through the Minster-yard, accidentally stepping on a\npiece of ice, was thrown on his back, in which position he saw a\nquantity of smoke issuing from the roof.\n\nIn a letter dated York, February 2nd, the writer thus hastily describes\nthe extent of the conflagration:--\n\nThe first appearance I observed was the issue of an immense volume of\nsmoke from the junction of the western towers with the nave, a smaller\ncolumn from the great tower, and a third column from the roof of the\nchoir, thus presenting the appearance of the building being on fire in\nall parts, whilst a dense smoke filled the interior to such a degree as\nto preclude the immediate entrance of the firemen. At length, the\nengines were rolled into the august edifice, when a scene beyond all\ndescription presented itself; the interior of the choir enveloped in\nflames, reflected upon the beautiful stained glass. The flames soon\nburst through the roof of the choir, and in less than an hour the whole\nwas in a blaze, and the melted lead poured down the spouting. The roof\nsoon fell in, in about five or six dreadful crashes. Every effort was\nmade to prevent the flames spreading to the transept and nave, and I\ntrust with success, for though the engines are now (midnight) still\nplaying, I do not find that there is any other fire than the remains of\nthe roof on the floor of the choir.\n\n[Footnote 1: No. 162, vol. vi., of the MIRROR, contains a fine view of\nthe Minster. The first religious foundation here by the Christians was\nabout the year 672. The Minster was burnt down in 1137, and lay in\nruins till the year 1171. The late cathedral was completed about the\nyear 1370. Appended to our engraving is an accurate historical and\narchitectural description of the whole fabric.]\n\nThe damage may be summed up thus: The roof of the choir quite gone, the\nwood work on each side consumed, the matchless organ entirely\ndestroyed, many monuments broken, and the communion plate melted. On\nthe other hand, the east window is entire to the surprise of every one,\nthe screen is uninjured, although immediately below the organ, the\nrecords in the vestry, the horn of Ulphus,[2] the coronation chair, and\nthe brass eagle are saved, and the wills in the Prerogative office are\nall safely lodged in Belfrey's Church. For some time the city was in\nconsiderable danger; flakes of fire were carried as far as the Lord\nMayor's Walk; providentially there was very little wind.\n\n[Footnote 2: The horn of Ulphus is one of the greatest curiosities in\npossession of the church of York. It appears like the hollowed tusk of\nan elephant, and the length of its curvature is from 18 to 24 inches.\nIt is the title deed by which the church of St. Peters holds lands to a\nconsiderable value, given to it before the Heptarchy by Ulphus, king of\nDeira and Northumbria. It is said, that when he presented it to the\nchurch, he filled it with wine, which he drank off to its future\nsuccess. If the story be true, Ulphus must have been one of the most\nstrong-headed, as well as one of the must pious kings of his day; for\nthe draught which he is alleged to have swallowed would be sufficient\nto upset the sobriety of any two men, such as men now are. The horn was\npreserved by the successive possessors of St. Peter's with the most\ncareful affection during all the commotions of the Danish and Norman\ninvasions; but was stolen from them in the general confusion which\npervaded the city of York after the battle of Marston-moor and it was\ndelivered up to the Parliamentarian forces under the command of Lord\nFairfax and Cromwell. By some of the accidents of war, it came into the\npossession of Lord Fairfax, who is reported to have purchased it of a\ncommon soldier. On the restoration of Charles II., when church-properly\nwas again secure, his lordship restored it to the cathedral; and there\nis now an inscription upon it, recording the gratitude of the Dean and\nChapter for having so valuable a possession restored them. It has now\nescaped singularly enough from the destruction which has fallen upon\nthe other curiosities which were usually kept in the vestry-room; and\nremains, as it has done for years past, to be sounded by all those\nstrong-winded visiters of the Minster who have strength enough to blow\nit.]\n\nFrom another account we learn that communication with the roof was not\nat first apprehended, but the roof of the choir being very dry wood,\nsoon joined in the conflagration. It is impossible to describe the\nawful picture of the flames rising above this majestic building. The\neffect produced by the glare of light upon the stained glass of the\nwindows exceeds description. On the falling of the roof, the house of\nprayer, which but the evening before had resounded with the voices of\nworshippers, and where all was order and harmony, now resembled a fiery\nfurnace. The pillars, which once served to divide the choir from the\ntwo side aisles, now stood alone, the whole being an open space, with\nthe roof burning on the ground, and nothing above but the blue canopy\nof heaven.\n\nMr. Britton, in his valuable work on York Cathedral, gives a minute\ndescription of that part of the Minster which has been destroyed; from\nwhich the following is extracted:--\n\n\"After passing through the screen, the visiter is introduced to the\nchoir, which is grand in scale and rich in adornment. On each side is a\nseries of 20 stalls, with 12 at the west end, beneath the organ. These\nare of oak, and are peculiarly rich in their canopies and carved\ndecorations. Each seat, or stall, has its movable miserecordia, with\nprojecting rests for the elbows, from which rise two detached slender\ncolumns, supporting an elaborate canopy. At the eastern end of the\nchoir is the altar-table, raised above the regular floor by a series of\n15 steps.\n\n\"On the north side of the altar, over the grated window that lights the\ncrypt, is an ancient pew, or gallery, to which there is an ascent by a\nflight of narrow stairs, of solid blocks of oak. The exterior of this\ngallery is very neat, and it is certainly older than the Reformation.\n\n\"Behind the stalls of the choir are closets, some of which are used as\nvestries by the singing-men: modern staircases have been constructed,\nleading to the galleries erected above, and which disfigure the view\ninto the aisles. These closets are fronted, next the aisles, by open\nscreens of oak, some of which are of excellent carving, and more\nelaborate than others. In the centre of the choir stands a desk for the\nvicars-choral to chant the litany in; it is enclosed in a pew of carved\nwood.\"\n\nThe Minster was lighted with gas, to which the conflagration was at\nfirst attributed; but the fire appears to have originated in one of the\nvestries. When we remember the beauty of the carved work which has thus\nbeen destroyed, and the elaborate skill which had been bestowed on its\nexecution, our sympathies are deeply awakened for its fate. Indeed, the\nmost listless admirer of art, as well as the antiquarian devotee, has\njust cause to lament this accident; especially as the taste and labours\nof our times fall far short of the olden glories of architecture. When\nwe think of the \"unsubstantial pageant\" of the recent \"Festival,\" and\nassociate its fleeting show with the desert remains of this venerable\npile, our feelings deepen into melancholy, and the smoking fragments of\nart seem to breathe--\n\n    Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,\n    And send the hearers weeping to their beds.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nHARD FROSTS IN ENGLAND.\n\n_(For the Mirror.)_\n\n\nIn the year\n220.  Frost lasted 5 months.\n250.  The Thames frozen 9 weeks.\n291.  Most rivers frozen 6 weeks.\n508.  The rivers frozen 2 months.\n695.  The Thames frozen 6 weeks; booths built on it.\n759.  Frost from October the 1st, till February 26th, 760.\n827.  Frost for 9 weeks.\n923.  The Thames frozen 13 weeks.\n987.  Frost lasted 120 days.\n998.  The Thames frozen 5 weeks.\n1035. Frost on Midsummer Day so vehement that the\n      corn and fruits were destroyed.\n1063. The Thames frozen for 14 weeks.\n1076. Frost from November to April.\n1114. Several wooden bridges carried away by the ice.\n1407. Frost for 15 weeks.\n1434. Thames frozen down to Gravesend; 12 weeks frost.\n1683. Frost for 13 weeks.\n1739. Frost for 9 weeks.\n1788. Frost from November to January\n1789, when the Thames was crossed opposite the Customhouse,\n      the Tower, Execution Dock, Putney, Brentford, &c. It\n      was general throughout Europe.\n1796. Frost the most severe on Dec. 25th\n      that had ever been felt in the\n      memory of man.\n1814. Severe frost, Thames frozen, and\n      tremendous falls of snow.\n\nA French writer who visited England during the severe frost in the year\n1688, says, (in a small volume which he published in Paris,) \"that\nbesides hackney-coaches, a large sledge, or sledges, were then\nexhibited on the frozen Thames, and that King Charles passed a whole\nnight upon the ice.\"\n\nThe following extract is also an account of this frost by an\neye-witness; which may be seen in the _Beauties of England and Wales_,\nvol. x. page 83: he says, \"On the 20th of December, 1688, a very\nviolent frost began, which lasted to the 6th of February, in so great\nextremity, that the pools were frozen 18 inches thick at least, and the\nThames was so frozen that a great street from the Temple to Southwark\nwas built with shops, and all manner of things sold. Hackney coaches\nplied there as in the streets. There were also bull-baiting, and a\ngreat many shows and tricks to be seen. This day the frost broke up. In\nthe morning I saw a coach and six horses driven from Whitehall almost\nto the bridge (London Bridge) yet by three o'clock that day, February\nthe 6th, next to Southwark the ice was gone, so as boats did row to and\nfro, and the next day all the frost was gone. On Candlemas Day I went\nto Croydon market, and led my horse over the ice to the Horseferry from\nWestminster to Lambeth; as I came back I led him from Lambeth upon the\nmiddle of the Thames to Whitefriars' stairs, and so led him up by them.\nAnd this day an ox was roasted whole, over against Whitehall. King\nCharles and the Queen ate part of it.\"\n\nN.B. In 1740, a palace of ice was built by the Empress Anne of Russia,\non the banks of the Neva, 52 feet long, which, when illuminated, had a\nsurprising effect.\n\nP. T. W.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTURKISH PROPHECY.\n\n(_For the Mirror._)\n\n\nThe following is extracted from a book of Prophecies, called Muhamedys,\nwhich is held in veneration by the Turks:--\"The Turkish emperor shall\nconquer Rome, and make the pope patriarch of Jerusalem; and he shall,\nsome time after, profess the Mahomedan faith. Christ shall then come,\nand show the Christians their error in not having accepted the Alcoran;\nand instruct them that the dove which came down from heaven was not the\nHoly Ghost, but was Mahomet, who shall be again upon earth thirty\nyears, and confirm the Alcoran by new miracles. After that time the\npower of the Turks shall decline, till they retire into Desert Arabia,\nand then there shall be an end of the world. Their overthrow shall be\naccomplished by a people from the north, called _caumico fer_,\n(yellow-haired sons.) The ruin of Constantinople shall happen in sultan\nMahomet's time; and then the Turks shall be reduced to so few in\nnumber, that sixty Turkish women shall have but one husband among\nthem.\" W. G. C.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPOPULAR SUPERSTITIONS, &c.\n\n(_Concluded from page 58._)\n\n\nWe have formerly alluded to the well-known feats of the weird\nsisterhood on the broomstick; but it is affirmed that on these\noccasions the spirit left its earthly abode, the body being previously\nanointed with the ointment we have described. We cannot better\nillustrate this question (the possibility of which has been the\nsubject-matter of many grave dissertations amongst the literati of\nthose times) than by giving the substance of the following singular\n\"Confession,\" which with many others equally interesting, was made in\n1664, (the later days of the profession) before Robert Hunt, Esq., a\n\"justice with fat capon lined,\" in the county of Somerset, and in the\npresence of \"several grave and orthodox divines.\"\n\nElizabeth Styles, of Stoke Triston, in that county, was accused by\n\"divers persons of credit,\" of the crimes of witchcraft and sorcery.\nShe was afterwards found guilty by a jury at Taunton, but died before\nthe sentence could be carried into effect. She confessed \"that the\ndevil, about ten years since, appeared to her in the shape of a\nhandsome man, and after of a black dog; that he promised her money, and\nthat she should live gallantly, and have the pleasure of the world for\ntwelve years, if she would, with her blood, sign his paper, which was\nto give her soul to him, and observe his laws, and that he might suck\nher blood. This, after four solicitations, the examinant promised to\ndo; upon which he pricked the fourth finger of her right hand, between\nthe middle and upper joints, (where the sign at the examination\nremained), and with a drop or two of her blood, she signed the paper\nwith an O. Upon this the devil gave her sixpence, and vanished\nwith the paper. That since he hath appeared to her in the shape of a\nman, and did so on Wednesday sevennight past, but more usually he\nappears in the likeness of a dog, and cat, and a fly like a miller, in\nwhich last he usually sucks in the poll, about four of the clock in the\nmorning, and did so January 27, and that it usually is pain to her to\nbe so suckt.\" When she desired to do harm, she called _Robin_; on his\nappearance she opened her wants, saying, _O Satan, give me my purpose._\n\nThat a short time before, she and other witches had met a \"gentleman in\nblack\" in a field, about nine o'clock at night, to devise torments for\none Elizabeth Hill, who had come under their ban; they brought a waxen\nimage of her, and the \"man in black\" took and anointed it, saying, _I\nbaptize thee with this oyl_; and using other words. \"He was godfather,\nand the examinant and Ann Bishop were godmothers.\" They called it\nElizabeth; and the black man and weird sisters stuck thorns into\nvarious parts of the luckless image. \"After which, they had wine,\ncakes, and roast meat, (provided by the gentleman in black,) which they\ndid eat and drink; and they danced and were very merry,\" &c. Many of\nthese unhallowed meetings took place afterwards, and their entertainer,\nthe gentleman in black--man or devil--seems to have been a regular\n_gourmand_, \"and never failed to bring with him abundance of excellent\ncheer.\" The customary bill of fare was \"wine, good ale, cakes, meat, or\nthe like.\" The spirit was, also, rather musical, for he \"sometimes\nplayed sweetly on the pipe or cittern,\" the ladies keeping time with a\ndance, (we fear narrowly approaching the modern waltz.) On the whole\nthey seem to have had joyous doings of it, and wonder ceases that the\ndemon gained so many proselytes amongst the old women. These nocturnal\nmeetings were generally held for a similar purpose with the foregoing;\nand it appears from the confession before us, that they were conveyed\nto them by supernatural means--by that simplest, though despised engine\nof loco--(or to coin a a word) a\u00ebro-motion--a broomstick. They were\nobliged to anoint themselves on these occasions \"with an oyl the spirit\nbrought them;\" and they were soon transported to the place of\nappointment, using these words in their transit, _\"Thout, tout, a tout\ntout, throughout and about!\"_ and on their return they say \"Rentum,\ntormentum!\" Such is the information conveyed in the confession of\nElizabeth Styles, before these \"grave and orthodox divines!\"\n\nThey were also gifted by the \"gentleman in black\" with various other\nwonderful powers and attributes. They could transform themselves into\nthe likeness of any animal in the creation, and therefore the better\nexecute their schemes of devilry; but, it appears, that they always\nwanted that essential part--the tail; and there was a trial gravely\nreported by a Lancashire jury, that a soldier having been set to watch\na mill from the depredations of some cats, skilfully whipped off the\nleg of the largest, which lo! the next morning, was changed into the\narm of an old witch (who had long been suspected) in the neighbourhood!\nThis useful faculty of transformation also extended, in some measure,\nto the persons of others; for Dr. Bulwer gives the following _easy\nrecipe_ for \"setting a horse or ass' head\" on a man's neck and\nshoulders:[3]--\"Cut off the head of a horse or an ass _(before they be\ndead, otherwise the virtue or strength thereof will be less\neffectual,)_ and take an earthen vessel of a fit capacity to contain\nthe same. Let it be filled with the oyl or fat thereof; cover it\nclose, and daub it over with loam. Let it boil over a soft fire for\nthree dayes, that the flesh boiled may run into oyl, so as the bones\nmay be seen. Beat the hair into powder, and mingle the same with the\noyl, and _anoint the heads of the standers by, and they shall seem to\nhave horses or asses' heads!_ If beasts' heads be anointed with the\nlike oyl made of a man's head, (we suppose cut off while the said man\nwas 'alive!') they shall seem to have men's faces, as divers authors\nsoberly affirm!\"\n\n[Footnote 3: Shakspeare must have derived from this hint, the similar\ntransformation in \"The Midsummer Night's Dream.\"]\n\nAfter dwelling on the dark and malignant qualities of witches, it is\nbut justice to give a few of the charms which, for a small\nremuneration, they would bestow for the benefit of those who sought\ntheir assistance in the hour of trouble. These charms were possessed of\nvarious degrees of virtue, _ex. gratiae._\n\n_Against the toothache._--Scarify the gums, in the grief, with the\ntooth of one that hath been slain. Otherwise, _galbes, gabat, galdes,\ngaldat_. Otherwise say, \"O horsecombs and sickles that have so many\nteeth, come heal me of my toothache!\"\n\nThese very simple remedies, if popular, would soon send the concocters\nof nostrums for the teeth into the Gazette.\n\n_To release a woman in travail._--Throw over the top of the house where\nthe woman lieth in travail, a stone, or any other thing that hath\nkilled three living creatures: namely, a man, a wild boar, and a\nshe-bear.\n\n_Against the headache._--Tie a halter round your head wherewith one\nhath been hanged.\n\n_Against the bite of a mad dog._--Put a silver ring on the ringer,\nwithin which the following words are engraven: _hobay, habas, heber_;\nand say to the person bitten by a mad dog, \"I am thy saviour, lose not\nthy life;\" and then prick him in the nose thrice, that at each time he\nbleed. Otherwise take pills made of the skull of one that is hanged,\n&c.\n\n_To find her that bewitched your kine._--Put a pair of breeches upon\nthe cow's head, and beat her out of the pasture with a good cudgel,\nupon a Friday, and she will run right to the witch's door, and strike\nthereat with her horns.\n\nWe are exceeding our limits, else we should have added several other\npithy receipts, almost worthy of her who made the noted one against the\ncreaking of a door--\"rub a bit of soft soap on the hinges.\" The most\ncelebrated and precious charm, however, (for the above are mostly\nagainst every-day occurrences) was the _Agnus Dei_, which was a\n\"preservative against all manner of evil, a perfect catholicon; and\nblessed indeed was the individual who possessed a treasure so\nvaluable.\" It was \"a little cake, having the picture of a lamb carrying\na flag, on the one side, and Christ's head on the other side, and was\nhollow; so that the Gospel of St. John, written on fine paper, was\nplaced in the concavity thereof;\" and was a sovereign remedy against\nlightning, the effects of heat, drowning, &c. &c. In some of the above\ncharms there is a little humour to be found; and as we have previously\nobserved, such are the effects of faith, that like the amulets of the\neast (may not our own sprigs of witch-elm, &c. be so called?) they may\nhave had in many cases the desired effects in averting disease.\n\nReginald Scot furnishes us with directions \"how to prevent and cure all\nmischief wrought by charms or witchcraft.\" To prevent the entry of a\nwitch into a house, nail a horse-shoe in the inside of the outermost\nthreshold. We believe this rule is still in practice. Also it was a\ncustom in some countries to nail a wolf's head, or a root of garlic,\nover the door, or on the roof of a house. And our Saviour's name, &c.\nwith four crosses at the four corners of a house, was a protection. The\nRomish custom of driving out evil spirits by the smoke of sulphur, is\nwell known. \"Otherwise the perfume made of the gall of a black dog, and\nhis bloode besmeared on the posts and walls of a house, driveth out of\nthe doores, both devils and witches.\" A sprig of witch-elm sewn in the\ncollar of the doublet, was celebrated amongst our great grandmothers as\na specific against the malignant deeds of the weird sisterhood.\n\nBut we must draw this article to a close. We may well rejoice that we\nlive in the nineteenth century; and that the disgusting infatuation and\nbaleful doctrines of witchcraft are gone for ever.\n\nVYVYAN.\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nFINE ARTS\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nDESCRIPTION OF THE KING'S PALACE,\n\n_By Mr. Nash, the Architect._\n\n\nThe grand entrance in front, which is to be reserved for the especial\nuse of his Majesty and the Royal Family, will be composed of white\nmarble, and will be a faithful model of the arch of Constantine, at\nRome, with the exception of the equestrian figure of his Majesty George\nIV. on the top. The workmanship of this arch is expected to rival any\nthing of the sort in the kingdom, and to equal the finest works of\nantiquity. From each side of the arch a semicircular railing will\nextend to the wings, executed in the most beautiful style, in\ncast-iron, and surmounted by tips or ornamental spears of mosaic gold.\nThe area, within, will consist of a grass-plat, in the centre of which\nwill be an ornamental fountain, and the whole will be bounded by a\ngraveled road.\n\nThe wing on the left will comprise his Majesty's chapel, the kitchen,\nand other offices; and that on the tight, his Majesty's private suite\nof apartments. The entrance to the former is from the back, near to\nwhere Buckingham-gate formerly stood, and it is by this door that the\nvisiters to the palace on gala days will be admitted. Passing through\nthe building, they will enter a spacious colonnade, which extends along\nthe front of the body of the palace, and in front of each wing; above\nthe colonnade is a magnificent balcony, supported by columns of the\nDoric order. At the end of each wing is a pediment, supported by\nCorinthian columns. The entablature of each pediment is tastefully\nfilled up with groups of figures in white marble, exquisitely carved in\n_alto relievo_, illustrative of the arts and sciences. On the extreme\npoints of the wing on the left, are fixed statues representing History,\nGeography, and Astronomy; and on those of the right wing, Painting,\nMusic, and Architecture. On the entablature of the pediment, in front\nof the main body of the palace, it is intended to place the Arms of\nEngland; and on the top are placed Neptune, with Commerce on one side,\nand Navigation on the other. Around the entire building, and above the\nwindows, is a delicately worked frieze, combining in a scroll the Rose,\nthe Shamrock, and the Thistle.\n\nThe entrance-hall is about thirty-three feet in height. The pavement is\nof white marble slightly veined with blue. The entire hall is bordered\nwith a scroll of Sienna or yellow, centred with rosettes of\npuce-coloured marble, inlaid in the most masterly style of workmanship.\nThe walls are of Scagliola, and the ceiling is supported by a\nsuccession of white marble pillars. From the hall are the avenues\nleading to the state apartments--drawing-rooms, dining-rooms,\nthrone-room, statue-gallery, picture-gallery, &c.\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nTHE ANECDOTE GALLERY.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nWINDSOR AS IT WAS.\n\n\nThe last Number of the _London Magazine_ contains an article of\nconsiderable graphic interest, under the above title. It is written by\none \"born within a stone's throw of the castle,\" and, _ni fallor_, by\nthe author of the picturesque description of Virginia Water, in the\nMagazine for September, last. As the whole article is much too long for\nour space, we have abridged it, taking care to retain the most\ncharacteristic portion of the writer's very pleasing reminiscences:--\n\nMy earliest recollections of Windsor are exceedingly delightful. I was\nborn within a stone's throw of the Castle-gates; and my whole boyhood\nwas passed in the most unrestrained enjoyment of the venerable and\nbeautiful objects by which I was surrounded, as if they had been my own\npeculiar and proper inheritance. The king and his family lived in a\nplain, barrack-looking lodge at his castle foot, which, in its external\nappearance and its interior arrangements, exactly corresponded with the\nhumble taste and the quiet, domestic habits of George III. The whole\nrange of the castle, its terrace, and its park, were places dedicated\nto the especial pleasures of a school-boy.\n\nThe Park! what a glory was that for cricket and kite-flying. No one\nmolested us. The beautiful plain immediately under the eastern terrace\nwas called the Bowling Green;--and, truly, it was as level as the\nsmoothest of those appendages to suburban inns. We took excellent care\nthat the grass should not grow too fast beneath our feet. No one\nmolested us. The king, indeed, would sometimes stand alone for half an\nhour to see the boys at cricket; and heartily would he laugh when the\nwicket of some confident urchin went down at the first ball. But we did\nnot heed his majesty. He was a quiet, good-humoured gentleman, in a\nlong blue coat, whose face was as familiar to us as that of our\nwriting-master; and many a time had that gracious gentleman bidden us\ngood morning, when we were hunting for mushrooms in the early dew, and\nhad crossed his path as he was returning from his dairy, to his eight\no'clock breakfast. Every one knew that most respectable and amiable of\ncountry squires, called His Majesty; and truly there was no inequality\nin the matter, for his majesty knew every one.\n\nI have now no recollection of having, when a child, seen the king with\nany of the appendages of royalty, except when he went to town, once a\nweek, to hold a levee; and then ten dragoons rode before, and ten after\nhis carriage, and the tradesmen in the streets through which he passed\nduly stood at their doors, to make the most profound reverences, as in\nduty bound, when their monarch looked \"every inch a king.\" But the bows\nwere less profound, and the wonderment none at all, when twice a week,\nas was his wont during the summer months, his majesty, with all his\nfamily, and a considerable bevy of ancient maids of honour and half-pay\ngenerals, walked through the town, or rode at a slow pace in an open\ncarriage, to the Windsor theatre, which was then in the High-street.\nReader, it is impossible that you can form an idea of the smallness of\nthat theatre; unless you have by chance lived in a country town, when\nthe assembly-room of the head inn has been fitted up with the aid of\nbrown paper and ochre, for the exhibition of some heroes of the sock\nand buskin, vulgarly called strollers. At the old Windsor Theatre, her\nmajesty's apothecary in the lower boxes might have almost felt her\npulse across the pit. My knowledge of the drama commenced at the early\nage of seven years, amidst this royal fellowship in fun; and most\nloyally did I laugh when his majesty, leaning back in his capacious\narm-chair in the stage-box, shook the house with his genuine peals of\nhearty merriment. Well do I remember the whole course of these royal\nplay-goings. The theatre was of an inconvenient form, with very sharp\nangles at the junctions of the centre with the sides. The stage-box,\nand the whole of the left or O.P. side of the lower tier, were\nappropriated to royalty. The house would fill at about half-past six.\nAt seven, precisely, Mr. Thornton, the manager, made his entrance\nbackwards, through a little door, into the stage-box, with a plated\ncandlestick in each hand, bowing with all the grace that his gout would\npermit. The six fiddles struck up God save the King; the audience rose;\nthe king nodded round and took his seat next the stage; the queen\ncurtsied, and took her arm-chair also. The satin bills of their\nmajesties and the princesses were then duly displayed--and the dingy\ngreen curtain drew up. The performances were invariably either a comedy\nand farce, or more frequently three farces, with a plentiful\ninterlarding of comic songs. Quick, Suett, and Mrs. Mattocks were the\nreigning favourites; and, about 1800, Elliston and Fawcett became\noccasional stars. But Quick and Suett were the king's especial delight.\nWhen Lovegold, in the \"Miser,\" drawled out \"a pin a day's a groat a\nyear,\" the laugh of the royal circle was somewhat loud; but when Dicky\nGossip exhibited in his vocation, and accompanied the burden of his\nsong, \"Dicky Gossip, Dicky Gossip is the man,\" with the blasts of his\npowder-puff, the cachinnation was loud and long, and the gods prolonged\nthe chorus of laughter, till the echo died away in the royal box. At\nthe end of the third act, coffee was handed round to the court circle;\nand precisely at eleven the performances finished,--and the flambeaux\ngleamed through the dimly-lighted streets of Windsor, as the happy\nfamily returned to their tranquil home.\n\nThere was occasionally a good deal of merriment going forward at\nWindsor in these olden days. I have a dim recollection of having danced\nin the little garden which was once the moat of the Round Tower, and\nwhich Washington Irving has been pleased to imagine existed in the time\nof James I. of Scotland. I have a perfect remembrance of a f\u00eate at\nFrogmore, about the beginning of the present century, where there was a\nDutch fair,--and haymaking very agreeably performed in white kid gloves\nby the belles of the town,--and the buck-basket scene of the \"Merry\nWives of Windsor\" represented by Fawcett and Mrs. Mattocks, and I think\nMrs. Gibbs, under the colonnade of the house in the open day--and\nvariegated lamps--and transparencies--and tea served out in tents, with\na magnificent scramble for the bread and butter. There was great good\nhumour and freedom on all these occasions; and if the grass was damp\nand the young ladies caught cold, and the sandwiches were scarce, and\nthe gentlemen went home hungry--I am sure these little drawbacks were\nnot to be imputed to the royal entertainers, who delighted to see their\nneighbours and dependants happy and joyous.\n\nA few years passed over my head, and the scene was somewhat changed.\nThe king and his family migrated from their little lodge into the old\nand spacious castle. This was about 1804. The lath and plaster of Sir\nWilliam Chambers was abandoned to the equerries and chance visiters of\nthe court; and the low rooms and dark passages that had scarcely been\ntenanted since the days of Anne, were made tolerably habitable by the\naid of diligent upholstery. Upon the whole, the change was not one\nwhich conduced to comfort; and I have heard that the princesses wept\nwhen they quitted their snug boudoirs in the Queen's Lodge. Windsor\nCastle, as it was, was a sad patchwork affair.\n\nThe late king and his family had lived at Windsor nearly thirty years,\nbefore it occurred to him to inhabit his own castle. The period at\nwhich he took possession was one of extraordinary excitement. It was\nthe period of the threatened invasion of England by Napoleon, when, as\nwas the case with France, upon the manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick,\n\"the land bristled.\"\n\nThe doings at Windsor were certainly more than commonly interesting at\nthat period; and I was just of an age to understand something of their\nmeaning, and partake the excitement. Sunday was especially a glorious\nday; and the description of one Sunday will furnish an adequate picture\nof these of two or three years.\n\nAt nine o'clock the sound of martial music was heard in the streets.\nThe Blues and the Stafford Militia then did duty at Windsor; and though\nthe one had seen no service since Minden, and most undeservedly bore\nthe stigma of a past generation; and the other was composed of men who\nhad never faced any danger but the ignition of a coal-pit;--they were\neach a remarkably fine body of soldiers, and the king did well to\ncountenance them. Of the former regiment George III. had a troop of his\nown, and he delighted to wear the regimentals of a captain of the\nBlues; and well did his burly form become the cocked hat and heavy\njack-boots which were the fashion of that fine corps in 1805. At nine\no'clock, as I have said, of a Sunday morning, the noise of trumpet and\nof drum was heard in the streets of Windsor; for the regiments paraded\nin the castle quadrangle. The troops occupied the whole square. At\nabout ten the king appeared with his family. He passed round the lines,\nwhile the salute was performed; and many a rapid word of inquiry had he\nto offer to the colonels who accompanied him. Not always did he wait\nfor an answer--but that was after the fashion of royalty in general. He\npassed onwards towards St. George's Chapel. But the military pomp did\nnot end in what is called the upper quadrangle. In the lower ward, at a\nvery humble distance from the regular troops, were drawn up a splendid\nbody of men, ycleped the Windsor Volunteers; and most gracious were the\nnods of royalty to the well-known drapers, and hatters, and\nbooksellers, who had the honour to hold commissions in that\ndistinguished regiment. The salutations, however, were short, and\nonwards went the cortege, for the chapel bell was tolling in, and the\nking was always punctual.\n\nGreat was the crowd to see the king and his family return from chapel;\nfor by this time London had poured forth its chaises and one, and the\nastonished inmates of Cheapside and St. Mary Axe were elbowing each\nother to see how a monarch smiled. They saw him well; and often have I\nheard the disappointed exclamation, \"Is _that_ the king?\" They saw a\nportly man, in a plain suit of regimentals, and no crown upon his\nhead. What a fearful falling off from the king of the story-books!\n\nThe terrace, however, was the great Sunday attraction; and though\nBishop Porteus remonstrated with his majesty for suffering people to\ncrowd together, and bands to play on these occasions, I cannot think\nthat the good-tempered monarch committed any mortal sin in walking\namongst his people in their holiday attire. This terrace was a motley\nscene.\n\n    The peasant's toe did gall the courtier's gibe.\n\nThe barber from Eton and his seven daughters elbowed the dean who\nrented his back parlour, when he was in the sixth form,--and who now\nwas crowding to the front rank for a smile of majesty, having heard\nthat the Bishop of Chester was seriously indisposed. The prime minister\nwaited quietly amidst the crush, till the royal party should descend\nfrom their dining-room,--smiling at, if not unheeding, the anxious\ninquiries of the stock-broker from Change Alley, who wondered if Mr.\nPitt would carry a gold stick before the king. The only time I saw that\nminister was under these circumstances. It was the year before he died.\nHe stood firmly and proudly amongst the crowd for some half-hour till\nthe king should arrive. The monarch, of course, immediately recognised\nhim; the contrast in the demeanour of the two personages made a\nremarkable impression upon me--and that of the minister first showed me\nan example of the perfect self-possession of men of great abilities.\n\nAfter a year or two of this soil of excitement the king became blind;\nand painful was the exhibition of the led horse of the good old man, as\nhe took his accustomed ride. In a few more years a still heavier\ncalamity fell upon him--and from that time Windsor Castle became,\ncomparatively, a mournful place. The terrace was shut up--the ancient\npathway through the park, and under the castle walls, was diverted--and\na somewhat Asiatic state and stillness seemed to usurp the reign of the\nold free and familiar intercourse of the sovereign with the people.\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nNOTES OF A READER.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nNAVARINO.\n\n\nTowards the close of the battle of Navarino, one of our midshipmen, a\npromising youth of about fourteen, was struck by a cannon-shot, which\ncarried off both his legs, and his right-hand, with which the poor\nfellow had been grasping his cutlass at that moment. He lay in the\ngun-room, as nothing could be done for him; and I was informed by one\nof the men, that he repeatedly named his mother in a piteous tone, but\nsoon after rallied a little, and began to inquire eagerly how the\naction was going on, and if any more Turkish ships had struck. He\nlingered in great agony for about twenty minutes.--From a spirited\ndescription in No. 2, _United Service Journal_, intended for abridgment\nprobably in our next.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nFRENCH THEATRES.\n\nThe revenue of the thirteen theatres of Paris during last year,\namounted to the great sum of \u00a3233,561 sterling; that of the two\nestablishments for the performance of the _regular drama_ amounting\nonly to \u00a326,600, or not more than a tithe of the whole.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nROUSSEAU.\n\nA mask taken upon the face of Jean Jacques Rousseau after death,\nrecently fetched, at the sale of the late M. Houdon, 500 francs. The\npurchaser has since refused an offer of 15,000 francs for it.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nBRUSSELS\n\nMay be said to be next to Paris, the largest English colony on the\ncontinent; and that there are not fewer at this moment than six\nthousand English residents there. This is not at all surprising.\nCheapness of living, of education, of amusements--a mild government and\nagreeable society--the abundance of all the necessaries of life, of\nfine fruits and vegetables in particular, are temptations; though we\npity those who have not the virtue to resist them.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nWRITING FOR THE STAGE.\n\nIs it not extraordinary that the manager of a theatre is the only\npurveyor who does not know the value of his wares? A bookseller will,\nif he approves of a work, pay a certain sum for the copyright, and risk\nan additional sum in the publication, at the hazard of losing by the\nfiat of a very capricious public, the reading public. But the writer of\na drama must make up his mind to stake the labour of months on the\nfortune of a single night. _New Monthly Mag._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nEXPEDITIONS OF DISCOVERY.\n\nNarratives of these important and interesting enterprizes multiply so\nfast, that we are happy to announce, as preparing for publication, a\nseries of abstracts of the most recent _Voyages and Overland Journeys_.\nThey will be printed in an economical volume adapted to all classes of\npurchasers, and will contain all the new facts in nautical and\ngeographical science; details of the _Natural History_ of the\nrespective countries, the manners and customs of the natives,\n&c.--Fernando Po, Timbuctoo, Clapperton's African adventures, and Capt.\nDillon's discoveries relative to the fate of La Perouse, will, of\ncourse, form prominent portions of this work, the popular title of\nwhich will be, \"_The Cabinet of Recent Voyages and Travels_.\"\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nBEEF-EATING.\n\nA facetious gourmand used to say, that he had eaten so much beef for\nthe last six months, that he was ashamed to look a bullock in the\nface.--_Twelve Years' Military Adventures._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE SABBATH.\n\nIf we believe in the divine origin of the commandment, the Sabbath is\ninstituted for the express purposes of religion. The time set apart is\nthe \"Sabbath of the Lord;\" a day on which we are not to work our own\nworks, or think our own thoughts. The precept is positive, and the\npurpose clear. He who has to accomplish his own salvation, must not\ncarry to tennis courts and skittle grounds the train of reflections\nwhich ought necessarily to be excited by a serious discourse of\nreligion. The religious part of the Sunday's exercise is not to be\nconsidered as a bitter medicine, the taste of which is as soon as\npossible to be removed by a bit of sugar. On the contrary, our\ndemeanour through the rest of the day ought to be, not sullen\ncertainly, or morose, but serious and tending to instruction. Give to\nthe world one half of the Sunday, and you will find that religion has\nno strong hold of the other. Pass the morning at church, and the\nevening, according to your taste or rank, in the cricket-field, or at\nthe Opera, and you will soon find thoughts of the evening hazards and\nbets intrude themselves on the sermon, and that recollections of the\npopular melodies interfere with the psalms. Religion is thus treated\nlike Lear, to whom his ungrateful daughters first denied one half of\nhis stipulated attendance, and then made it a question whether they\nshould grant him any share of what remained.--_Quart. Review._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPOCKET BOOKS.\n\nAmong the works under this denomination for 1829, we notice two, which\nfrom their almost indispensible utility, deserve the name of _Hardy\nAnnuals_. The first is _Adcock's Engineers' Pocket Book_, and contains\ntables of British weights and measures, multiplication and division\nobtained by inspection, tables of squares and cubes and square and\ncube roots, and mensuration; tables of the areas and circumferences of\ncircles, &c.; the mechanical powers, animal strength, mills and\nsteam-engines, treatises on hydraulics, pneumatics, heat, &c., and on\nthe strength and heat of materials. To these are superadded the usual\ncontents of a pocket book, so as to render the present volume a\ndesirable vade-mecum for the operative, the manufacturer, and engineer.\n\nOne of Mr. Adcock's most popular illustrations will not be\nuninteresting to the reader:--\n\n_\"Force of Gunpowder.\"_--\"If we calculate the quantity of motion\nproduced by gunpowder, we shall find that this agent, though extremely\nconvenient, is far more expensive than human labour; but the advantage\nof gunpowder consists in the great rarity of the active substance; a\nspring or a bow can only act with a moderate velocity on account of its\nown weight; the air of the atmosphere, however compressed, could not\nflow into a vacuum with a velocity so great as 1,500 feet in a second;\nhydrogen gas might move more rapidly; but the elastic substance\nproduced by gunpowder is capable of propelling a very heavy cannon ball\nwith a much greater velocity.\"\n\nOf an opposite character, but equally useful, and more attractive for\nthe general reader, is the second,--_The Spoilsman's Pocket Book_, by a\nbrother of the author of the preceding. Here are the usual pocket-book\ncontents, and the laws, &c. of British sports and pastimes--as\nshooting, angling, hunting, coursing, racing, cricket, and _skating_:\nfrom the latter we subjoin a hint for the benefit of the _Serpentine\nMercuries_; which proves the adage _ex liguo non fit Mercurius_:--\n\n\"Care should be taken that the muscular movements of the whole body\ncorrespond with the movements of the skates, and that it be regulated\nso as to be almost imperceptible to the spectators; for nothing so much\ndiminishes the grace and elegance of skating as sudden jerks and\nexertions. The attitude of drawing the bow and arrow, whilst the skater\nis forming a large circle on the outside, is very beautiful, and some\npersons, in skating, excel in manual exercises and military salutes.\"\n\nThe whole series of pocket books by the Messrs. Adcocks, extend, we\nbelieve, to eight, adapted for all descriptions of _industriels_, as\nwell as for the less occupied, who are not \"the architects of their own\nfortunes.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDr. Parr was the last learned schoolmaster who was professedly an\namateur of the rod; and in that profession there was more of humour\nand affectation than of reality, for with all his habitual affectation\nand his occasional brutality, Parr was a good-natured, generous,\nwarm-hearted man; there was a coarse husk and a hard shell, like the\ncocoa-nut, but the core was filled with the milk of human\nkindness.--_Quarterly Review._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nCRANIOLOGY.\n\nOn a celebrated craniologist visiting the _studio_ of a celebrated\nsculptor in London, his attention was drawn to a bust with a remarkable\ndepth of skull from the forehead to the occiput. \"What a noble head,\"\nhe exclaimed, \"is that! full seven inches! What superior powers of mind\nmust he be endowed with, who possesses such a head as is here\nrepresented!\" \"Why, yes,\" says the blunt artist, \"he certainly was a\nvery extraordinary man--that is the bust of my early friend and first\npatron, John Horne Tooke.\" \"Ay,\" answers the craniologist, \"you see\nthere is something after all in our science, notwithstanding the scoffs\nof many of your countrymen.\" \"Certainly,\" says the sculptor; \"but here\nis another bust, with a greater depth and a still more capacious\nforehead.\" \"Bless me!\" exclaims the craniologist, taking out his rule,\n\"eight inches! who can this be? this is indeed a head--in this there\ncan be no mistake; what depth of intellect, what profundity of thought,\nmust reside in that skull! this I am sure must belong to some\nextraordinary and well-known character.\" \"Why, yes,\" says the sculptor,\n\"he is pretty well known--it is the head of Lord Pomfret.\"\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPRYNNE.\n\nAnthony A'Wood has informed us that when Prynne studied, \"his custom\nwas to put on a long quilted cap, which came an inch over his eyes,\nserving as an umbrella to defend them from too much light, and seldom\neating any dinner. He would be every three hours munching a roll of\nbread, and now and then refresh his exhausted spirits with ale.\"\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nGERMAN STUDENTS.\n\nThe German students are a set of young men who certainly pursue their\nstudies with zeal, but who nevertheless are more brutal in conduct,\nmore insolent in manner, more slovenly and ruffian-like in appearance,\nand more offensive from the fumes of tobacco and beer, onions and\nsourcrout, in which they are enveloped, than are to be met with in any\nother part of Europe. In a small town of a small state a German\nuniversity is a horrible nuisance; and how the elegant court of Weimar,\nin particular, can tolerate the existence of one within an hour's ride\nof its palace, where we have seen ragamuffins fighting with\nbroad-swords in the market-place, moves \"our special wonder.\" To the\nuniversity of Bonn is attached a rich collection of subjects in natural\nhistory, and a botanical garden; and such is its success, from the\ncelebrity of its professors, among whom is numbered the illustrious\nWilliam Schlegel, that, Dr. Granville states, \"there are at this time\nabout one thousand and twenty students who, for twenty pounds in\nuniversity and professors' fees, and forty more for living, get a\nfirst-rate education.\" The climate and the situation on the banks of\nthe Rhine are most inviting; and a beautiful avenue of chestnut trees,\nnearly a mile in length, joins the castle of Popplesdorf, which\ncontains the cabinets of natural history, with the university.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nGREAT SEAL OF ENGLAND.\n\nThe Great Seal itself, when not in the king's own custody, was\nentrusted to the \"Chancellor,\" whose salary, as fixed by Henry I.,\namounted to five shillings per diem, besides a \"livery\" of provisions.\nAnd the allowance of one pint and a half, or perhaps a quart of claret,\none \"gross wax-light,\" and forty candle-ends, to enable the Chancellor\nto carry on his housekeeping, may be considered as a curious\nexemplification of primitive temperance and economy.--_Quarterly Rev._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe good people of Weimar appear to be most enthusiastic lovers of\nmusic, affording strong proofs of melomania. Every householder of any\nimportance subscribes an annual sum to a band of musicians, who go\nround in long cloaks to each house, singing fugas and canons,\nunaccompanied by instruments, in \"the most beautiful and correct style\nimaginable,\"--something, we suppose, in the style of the Tyrolese\nminstrels.--_Ibid._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTRAVELLING.\n\nA friend of ours recently went to Russia by steam, and actually\nbreakfasted in Moscow the thirteenth morning after he left London.\nThere is now, he says, a road as good as that to Brighton over three\nparts of the distance between St. Petersburg and Moscow--what a change\nfrom 1812!--_Ibid._\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nSPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE MURDER HOLE.\n\n_An Ancient Legend._\n\n                  \"Ah, frantic Fear!\n    I see, I see thee near;\n    I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye!\n    Like thee I start, like thee disorder'd fly!\n\nCOLLINS.\n\n\nIn a remote district of country belonging to Lord Cassillis, between\nAyrshire and Galloway, about three hundred years ago, a moor of\napparently boundless extent stretched several miles along the road, and\nwearied the eye of the traveller by the sameness and desolation of its\nappearance; not a tree varied the prospect--not a shrub enlivened the\neye by its freshness--nor a native flower bloomed to adorn this\nungenial soil. One \"lonesome desert\" reached the horizon on every side,\nwith nothing to mark that any mortal had ever visited the scene before,\nexcept a few rude huts that were scattered near its centre; and a road,\nor rather pathway, for those whom business or necessity obliged to pass\nin that direction. At length, deserted as this wild region had always\nbeen, it became still more gloomy. Strange rumours arose, that the path\nof unwary travellers had been beset on this \"blasted heath,\" and that\ntreachery and murder had intercepted the solitary stranger as he\ntraversed its dreary extent. When several persons, who were known to\nhave passed that way, mysteriously disappeared, the inquiries of their\nrelatives led to a strict and anxious investigation; but though the\nofficers of justice were sent to scour the country, and examine the\ninhabitants, not a trace could be obtained of the persons in question,\nnor of any place of concealment which could be a refuge for the lawless\nor desperate to horde in. Yet, as inquiry became stricter, and the\ndisappearance of individuals more frequent, the simple inhabitants of\nthe neighbouring hamlet were agitated by the most fearful\napprehensions. Some declared that the deathlike stillness of the night\nwas often interrupted by sudden and preternatural cries of more than\nmortal anguish, which seemed to arise in the distance; and a shepherd\none evening, who had lost his way on the moor, declared he had\napproached three mysterious figures, who seemed struggling against each\nother with supernatural energy, till at length one of them, with a\nfrightful scream, suddenly sunk into the earth.\n\nGradually the inhabitants deserted their dwellings on the heath, and\nsettled in distant quarters, till at length but one of the cottages\ncontinued to be inhabited by an old woman and her two sons, who loudly\nlamented that poverty chained them to this solitary and mysterious\nspot. Travellers who frequented this road now generally did so in\ngroups to protect each other; and if night overtook them, they usually\nstopped at the humble cottage of the old woman and her sons, where\ncleanliness compensated for the want of luxury, and where, over a\nblazing fire of peat, the bolder spirits smiled at the imaginary\nterrors of the road, and the more timid trembled as they listened to\nthe tales of terror and affright with which their hosts entertained\nthem.\n\nOne gloomy and tempestuous night in November, a pedlar-boy hastily\ntraversed the moor. Terrified to find himself involved in darkness\namidst its boundless wastes, a thousand frightful traditions, connected\nwith this dreary scene, darted across his mind--every blast, as it\nswept in hollow gusts over the heath, seemed to teem with the sighs of\ndeparted spirits--and the birds, as they winged their way above his\nhead, appeared, with loud and shrill cries, to warn him of approaching\ndagger. The whistle with which he usually beguiled his weary pilgrimage\ndied away into silence, and he groped along with trembling and\nuncertain steps, which sounded too loudly in his ears. The promise of\nScripture occurred to his memory, and revived his courage. \"I will be\nunto thee as a rock in the desert, and as an hiding-place in the\nstorm.\" _Surely_, thought he, _though alone, I am not forsaken;_ and a\nprayer for assistance hovered on his lips.\n\nA light now glimmered in the distance which would lead him, he\nconjectured, to the cottage of the old woman; and towards that he\neagerly bent his way, remembering as he hastened along, that when he\nhad visited it the year before, it was in company with a large party of\ntravellers, who had beguiled the evening with those tales of mystery\nwhich had so lately filled his brain with images of terror. He\nrecollected, too, how anxiously the old woman and her sons had\nendeavoured to detain him when the other travellers were departing; and\nnow, therefore, he confidently anticipated a cordial and cheering\nreception. His first call for admission obtained no visible marks of\nattention, but instantly the greatest noise and confusion prevailed\nwithin the cottage. They think it is one of the supernatural visitants\nof whom the old lady talks so much, thought the boy, approaching a\nwindow, where the light within showed him all the inhabitants at their\nseveral occupations; the old woman was hastily scrubbing the stone\nfloor, and strewing it thickly over with sand, while her two sons\nseemed with equal haste to be thrusting something large and heavy into\nan immense chest, which they carefully locked. The boy in a frolicsome\nmood, thoughtlessly tapped at the window, when they all instantly\nstarted up with consternation so strongly depicted on their\ncountenances, that he shrunk back involuntarily with an undefined\nfeeling of apprehension; but before he had time to reflect a moment\nlonger, one of the men suddenly darted out at the door, and seizing the\nboy roughly by the shoulder, dragged him violently into the cottage. \"I\nam not what you take me for,\" said the boy, attempting to laugh, \"but\nonly the poor pedlar who visited you last year.\"--\"Are you _alone?_\"\ninquired the old woman, in a harsh, deep tone, which made his heart\nthrill with apprehension. \"Yes,\" said the boy, \"I am alone _here_; and\nalas!\" he added, with a burst of uncontrollable feeling, \"I am alone in\nthe wide world also! Not a person exists who would assist me in\ndistress, or shed a single tear if I died this very night.\" \"_Then_ you\nare welcome!\" said one of the men with a sneer, while he cast a glance\nof peculiar expression at the other inhabitants of the cottage.\n\nIt was with a shiver of apprehension, rather than of cold, that the boy\ndrew towards the fire, and the looks which the old woman and her sons\nexchanged, made him wish that he had preferred the shelter of any one\nof the roofless cottages which were scattered near, rather than trust\nhimself among persons of such dubious aspect. Dreadful surmises flitted\nacross his brain; and terrors which he could neither combat nor examine\nimperceptibly stole into his mind; but alone, and beyond the reach of\nassistance, he resolved to smother his suspicions, or at least not\nincrease the danger by revealing them. The room to which he retired for\nthe night had a confused and desolate aspect; the curtains seemed to\nhave been violently torn down from the bed, and still hung in tatters\naround it--the table seemed to have been broken by some violent\nconcussion, and the fragments of various pieces of furniture lay\nscattered upon the floor. The boy begged that a light might burn in his\napartment till he was asleep, and anxiously examined the fastenings of\nthe door; but they seemed to have been wrenched asunder on some former\noccasion, and were still left rusty and broken.\n\nIt was long ere the pedlar attempted to compose his agitated nerves to\nrest; but at length his senses began to \"steep themselves in\nforgetfulness,\" though his imagination remained painfully active, and\npresented new scenes of terror to his mind, with all the vividness of\nreality. He fancied himself again wandering on the heath, which\nappeared to be peopled with spectres, who all beckoned to him not to\nenter the cottage, and as he approached it, they vanished with a hollow\nand despairing cry. The scene then changed, and he found himself again\nseated by the fire, where the countenances of the men scowled upon him\nwith the most terrifying malignity, and he thought the old woman\nsuddenly seized him by the arms, and pinioned them to his side.\nSuddenly the boy was startled from these agitated slumbers, by what\nsounded to him like a cry of distress; he was broad awake in a moment,\nand sat up in bed,--but the noise was not repeated, and he endeavoured\nto persuade himself it had only been a continuation of the fearful\nimages which had disturbed his rest; when, on glancing at the door, he\nobserved underneath it a broad, red stream of blood silently stealing\nits course along the floor. Frantic with alarm, it was but the work of\na moment to spring from his bed, and rush to the door, through a chink\nof which, his eye nearly dimmed with affright he could watch\nunsuspected whatever might be done in the adjoining room.\n\nHis fear vanished instantly when he perceived that it was only a _goat_\nthat they had been slaughtering; and he was about to steal into his bed\nagain, ashamed of his groundless apprehensions, when his ear was\narrested by a conversation which transfixed him aghast with terror to\nthe spot.\n\n\"This is an easier job than you had yesterday,\" said the man who held\nthe goat. \"I wish all the throats we've cut were as easily and quietly\ndone. Did you ever hear such a noise as the old gentleman made last\nnight! It was well we had no neighbour within a dozen of miles, or they\nmust have heard his cries for help and mercy.\"\n\n\"Don't speak of it,\" replied the other; \"I was never fond of\nbloodshed,\"\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" said the other with a sneer, \"you say so, do you?\"\n\n\"I do,\" answered the first, gloomily; \"the Murder Hole is the thing for\nme--_that_ tells no tales--a single scuffle--a single plunge--and the\nfellow's dead and buried to your hand in a moment. I would defy all the\nofficers in Christendom to discover any mischief _there_.\"\n\n\"Ay, Nature did us a good turn when she contrived such a place as that.\nWho that saw a hole in the heath, filled with clear water, and so\nsmall that the long grass meets over the top of it, would suppose that\nthe depth is unfathomable, and that it conceals more than forty people\nwho have met their deaths there! it sucks them in like a leech!\"\n\n\"How do you mean to dispatch the lad in the next room?\" asked the old\nwoman in an under tone. The elder son made her a sign to be silent, and\npointed towards the door where their trembling auditor was concealed;\nwhile the other, with an expression of brutal ferocity, passed his\nbloody knife across his throat.\n\nThe pedlar boy possessed a bold and daring spirit, which was now roused\nto desperation; but in any open resistance the odds were so completely\nagainst him, that flight seemed his best resource. He gently stole to\nthe window, and having by one desperate effort broken the rusty bolt by\nwhich the casement had been fastened, he let himself down without noise\nor difficulty. This betokens good, thought he, pausing an instant in\ndreadful hesitation what direction to take. This momentary deliberation\nwas fearfully interrupted by the hoarse voice of the men calling\naloud, \"_The boy has fled--let loose the bloodhound!_\" These words\nsunk like a death-knell on his heart, for escape appeared now\nimpossible, and his nerves seemed to melt away like wax in a furnace.\nShall I perish without a struggle! thought he, rousing himself to\nexertion, and, helpless and terrified as a hare pursued by its ruthless\nhunters, he fled across the heath. Soon the baying of the bloodhound\nbroke the stillness of the night, and the voice of its masters sounded\nthrough the moor, as they endeavoured to accelerate its speed,--panting\nand breathless the boy pursued his hopeless career, but every moment\nhis pursuers seemed to gain upon his failing steps. The hound was\nunimpeded by the darkness which was to him so impenetrable, and its\nnoise rung louder and deeper on his ear--while the lanterns which were\ncarried by the men gleamed near and distinct upon his vision.\n\nAt his fullest speed, the terrified boy fell with violence over a heap\nof stones, and having nothing on but his shirt, he was severely cut in\nevery limb. With one wild cry to Heaven for assistance, he continued\nprostrate on the earth, bleeding, and nearly insensible. The hoarse\nvoices of the men, and the still louder baying of the dog, were now so\nnear, that instant destruction seemed inevitable,--already he felt\nhimself in their fangs, and the bloody knife of the assassin appeared\nto gleam before his eyes,--despair renewed his energy, and once more,\nin an agony of affright that seemed verging towards madness, he rushed\nforward so rapidly that terror seemed to have given wings to his feet.\nA loud cry near the spot he had left arose on his ears without\nsuspending his flight. The hound had stopped at the place where the\nPedlar's wounds bled so profusely, and deeming the chase now over, it\nlay down there, and could not be induced to proceed; in vain the men\nbeat it with frantic violence, and tried again to put the hound on the\nscent,--the sight of blood had satisfied the animal that its work was\ndone, and with dogged resolution it resisted every inducement to pursue\nthe same scent a second time. The pedlar boy in the meantime paused not\nin his flight till morning dawned--and still as he fled, the noise of\nsteps seemed to pursue him, and the cry of his assassins still sounded\nin the distance. Ten miles off he reached a village, and spread instant\nalarm throughout the neighbourhood--the inhabitants were aroused with\none accord into a tumult of indignation--several of them had lost sons,\nbrothers, or friends on the heath, and all united in proceeding\ninstantly to seize the old woman and her sons, who were nearly torn to\npieces by their violence. Three gibbets were immediately raised on the\nmoor, and the wretched culprits confessed before their execution to the\ndestruction of nearly fifty victims in the Murder Hole which they\npointed out, and near which they suffered the penalty of their crimes.\nThe bones of several murdered persons were with difficulty brought up\nfrom the abyss into which they had been thrust; but so narrow is the\naperture, and so extraordinary the depth, that all who see it are\ninclined to coincide in the tradition of the country people that it is\nunfathomable. The scene of these events still continues nearly as it\nwas 300 years ago. The remains of the old cottage, with its blackened\nwalls (haunted of course by a thousand evil spirits,) and the extensive\nmoor, on which a more modern _inn_ (if it can be dignified with such an\nepithet) resembles its predecessor in every thing but the character of\nits inhabitants; the landlord is deformed, but possesses extraordinary\ngenius; he has himself manufactured a violin, on which he plays with\nuntaught skill,--and if any _discord_ be heard in the house, or any\n_murder_ committed in it, this is his only instrument. His daughter\n(who has never travelled beyond the heath) has inherited her father's\ntalent, and learnt all his tales of terror and superstition, which she\nrelates with infinite spirit; but when you are led by her across the\nheath to drop a stone into that deep and narrow gulf to which our story\nrelates,--when you stand on its slippery edge, and (parting the long\ngrass with which it is covered) gaze into its mysterious depths,--when\nshe describes, with all the animation of an _eye witness_, the\nstruggles of the victims grasping the grass as a last hope of\npreservation, and trying to drag in their assassin as an expiring\neffort of vengeance,--when you are told that for 300 years the clear\nwaters in this diamond of the desert have remained untasted by mortal\nlips, and that the solitary traveller is still pursued at night by the\nhowling of the bloodhound,--it is _then only_ that it is possible fully\nto appreciate the terrors of THE MURDER HOLE.\n\n_Blackwood's Magazine._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nDANCING.\n\n    I never to a ball will go,\n      That poor pretence for prancing,\n    Where Jenkins dislocates a toe,\n      And Tomkins _thinks_ he's dancing:\n    And most I execrate that ball,\n      Of balls the most atrocious,\n    Held yearly in old Magog's hall,\n      The feasting and ferocious.\n\n    I execrate the mob, the squeeze,\n      The rough refreshment-scramble:\n    The dancers, keeping time with knees\n      That knock as down they amble;\n    Between two lines of bankers' clerks,\n      Stared at by two of loobies--\n    All mighty fine for city sparks,\n      But all and each one boobies:--\n\n    Boobies with heads like poodle-dogs,\n      With curls like clew-lines dangling;\n    With limbs like galvanizing frogs,\n      And necks stiff-starched and strangling;\n    With pigeon-breasts and pigeon-wings,\n      And waists like wasps and spiders;\n    With whiskers like Macready's kings',\n      Mustachios like El Hyder's.\n\n    Miss Jones, the Moorfields milliner,\n      With Toilinet, the draper,\n    May waltz--for none are _willinger_\n      To cut cloth or a caper.--\n    Miss Moses of the Minories,\n      With Mr. Wicks of Wapping,\n    May love such light tracasseries,\n      Such shuffle shoe and hopping:\n\n    Miss Hicks, the belle of Holywell,\n      And pride of Norton Falgate,\n    In waltzing may the world excel,\n      Except Miss Hicks of Aldgate.\n    Well, let them--'tis their nature--twirl,\n      And Smiths adore their twirlings,\n    Which kill with envy every girl\n      That fingers lace at Urling's,\n\n    I laugh while I lament to see\n      A fellow, made to measure\n    'Gainst grenadiers of six feet three,\n      \"Die down the dance\" with pleasure.\n    I laugh to see a man with thews\n      His way through Misses picking,\n    Like pig with tender pettitoes,\n      Or chicken-hearted chicken;\n\n    A tom-cat shod with walnut-shells,\n      A pony race in pattens,\n    A wagon-horse tricked out with bells,\n      A sow in silks and satins,\n    A butcher's hair _en papillote_,\n      And lounging Piccadilly,\n    A clown in an embroidered coat,\n      Are not more gauche and silly.\n\n    Let atoms take their dusty dance,\n      But men are not corpuscles:\n    An Englishman's not made in France,\n      Nor wire and buckram muscles.\n    The manly leap, the breathing race,\n      The wrestle, or old cricket,\n    Give to the limbs a native grace--\n      So, here's for double-wicket.\n\n    Leave dancing to the women, Men--\n      In them it is becoming;--\n    I never tire to see them, when\n      Joe Hart his fiddle's strumming,\n    Or Colinet and mild Musard\n      Have set their hearts quadrilling;--\n    Then be each nymph a gay Brocard,\n      And every woman killing.\n\n    I love to see the pretty dears\n      Go lightly caracolling,\n    And drinking love at eyes and ears,\n      With every look their soul in!\n    I like to watch the swan-like grace\n      They show in minuetting.\n    It hits one's bosom's tenderest place,\n      To see them pirouetting.\n\n    But when a measurer of tape\n      Turns butterfly and dandy,\n    Assumes their grace, their air, their shape,\n      I wish a pump were handy!\n    I never to such balls will go,\n      Those poor pretexts for prancing;\n    Where Jenkins dislocates his toe,\n      And Tomkins _thinks_ he's dancing.\n\n_Monthly Magazine._\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nTHE GATHERER.\n\n\n    A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.\n\nSHAKSPEARE.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nFAMILY RECKONING.\n\nTwo Irishmen lately met, who had not seen each other since their\narrival from Dublin's fair city. Pat exclaimed, \"How are you, my honey;\nhow is Biddy Sulivan, Judy O'Connell, and Daniel O'Keefe?\" \"Oh! my\njewel,\" answered the other, \"Biddy has got so many children that she\nwill soon be a grandfather; Judy has six, but they have no father at\nall, for she never was married. And, as for Daniel, he's grown so thin,\nthat he is as thin as us both put together.\"\n\nW. G. C.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nVARY-WEEL WHILE IT LASTS.\n\nTwo old Scotch gentlemen, having left their better halves in the Land\no' Cakes, on quitting Covent Garden theatre were discussing the merits\nof the play, the School for Scandal. \"I was vary gled to see Sir Peter\nand my Leddy Tizzle sic gude frinds agin, Mr. M'Dougal, what think ye?\"\n\"Eh, mon, vary weel while it lasts, but it's just Mrs. M'Dougal's way.\nI'se warrant they're at it agin afore we are doon in our beds mon.\"\nPoor Sheridan should have heard this himself.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nOne of his majesty's frigates being at anchor on a winter's night, in\na tremendous gale of wind, the ground broke, and she began to drive.\nThe lieutenant of the watch ran down to the captain and awoke him from\nhis sleep, and told him the anchor had come home. \"Well,\" said the\ncaptain, rubbing his eyes, \"I think our anchor is perfectly right, for\nwho the d---- would stay out such a night as this?\"\n\nW. G. C.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nBeer was first introduced into England in 1492; into Scotland as early\nas 1482. By the statute of King James I. one full quart of the best\nbeer or ale was to be sold for one penny, and two quarts of small beer\nfor one penny.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nIn the museum of Stuttgard, is a portrait of the Countess of Salzburg,\nwho, at the age of 50 years, had mustachios, whiskers, and a beard, as\nlong and as black as those of any man.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTRIAL BY JURY.\n\nThe following anecdote is given in \"_Lettres tres sur l'Angleterre par\nA. de Stael Holstein_.\" \"King George III. once gave directions for\nclosing up a gate and a road in his own park at Richmond, which had\nbeen free to foot passengers for many years. A citizen of Richmond, who\nfound the road convenient to the inhabitants of that village, took up\nthe cause of his neighbours. He contended, that, although the\nthoroughfare might have been originally an encroachment, it had become\npublic property by the lapse of time, and by prescriptive right, and\nthat he should compel the king to re-open it. He brought his suit,\nwithout hesitating, into a court of justice, and gained his process.\"\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nThis day is published, price 5s. with a Frontispiece, and thirty other\nEngravings, the\n\nARCANA OF SCIENCE, AND ANNUAL REGISTER OF THE USEFUL ARTS, FOR 1829.\n\nThe MECHANICAL department contains ONE HUNDRED New Inventions and\nDiscoveries, with 14 _Engravings_.\n\nCHEMICAL, SEVENTY articles, with 2 _Engravings_.\n\nNATURAL HISTORY, 135 New Facts and Discoveries, with 7 _Engravings_.\n\nASTRONOMICAL and METEOROLOGICAL PHENOMENA--35 articles--6 _Engravings_.\n\nAGRICULTURE, GARDENING, and RURAL ECONOMY, 106 _Articles_.\n\nDOMESTIC ECONOMY 50 _Articles_.\n\nUSEFUL ARTS, 50 _Articles_.\n\nFINE ARTS.\n\nPUBLIC IMPROVEMENTS.\n\nMISCELLANEOUS REGISTER, &c.\n\n\"We hope the editor will publish a similar volume\nannually.\"--_Gardener's Magazine._","title":"The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 355, February 7, 1829","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":12870}