{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11407/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11407","id":"gutenberg_11407","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11407","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Journals","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Popular literature -- Great Britain -- Periodicals","The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 11407-h.htm or 11407-h.zip:\n      (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/4/0/11407/11407-h/11407-h.htm)\n      or\n      (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/4/0/11407/11407-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\nTHE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.\n\nVOL. 10, No. 284.] SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1827. [PRICE 2d.\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nNAVARINO AND THE ISLAND OF SPHAGIA.\n\n\n[Illustration: NAVARINO AND THE ISLAND OF SPHAGIA.]\n\n\nAs our victories, though managed by the hand, are achieved by the head,\nwe feel little disposed to meddle with what Burke calls \"the mystery of\nmurder,\" or \"the present perfection of gunnery, cannoneering, bombarding,\nand mining;\" and inveterate as may be the weapon of the goose-quill, we\ntrust our readers will not suspect us of any other policy than that of\npleasing them, the _ne plus ultra_ of all public servants. As our title\nimplies, we are bound to present or reflect in our pages certain\nillustrations of popular topics, _veluti_ IN SPECULUM; accordingly, we\nhope the accompanying _View and Plan of the Bay of Navarino_ will be\nreceived in good season, _quod rerum est omnium primum_.\n\nThus far, the political or present interest attached to Navarino: with\nthe recent event which has raised, or we may say resuscitated such\ninterest, our readers have doubtless become familiar, and leaving the\nephemeral glory to the _Sun_ of all newspapers, and meaner \"chronicles\nof the times,\" we shall proceed to the sober duty of describing the Bay\nof Navarino, as, it will be seen, a place of some interest in the annals\nof ancient as well as of modern warfare.\n\nWith our usual _literary honesty_, (we trust a characteristic of our\nwhole conduct,) we have to acknowledge our obligations to the \"Travels\"\nof M. Pouqueville for the preceding view. \"The port of Navarino, certainly\none of the finest in the world,\" says Sir William Gell, in his interesting\n_Journey in the Morea_, \"is formed by a deep indenture in the Morea, shut\nin by a long island, anciently called Sphacteria, famous for the defeat\nand capture of the Spartans, in the Peloponnesian war, and yet exhibiting\nthe vestige of walls, which may have served as their last refuge. This\nisland has been separated into three or four parts by the violence of the\nwaves, so that boats might pass from the open sea into the port in calm\nweather, by means of the channel so formed. On one of the portions is the\ntomb of a Turkish saint, or santon; and near the centre of the port is\nanother very small island, or rock.\" The modern name of the island is\n_Sphagia_.\n\nNavarino, called by the Turks _Avarin_, and the Greeks _Neo-Castron_, is\nthe Pylos of the ancients, and the supposed birthplace of the venerable\nNestor--standing upon a promontory at the foot of Mount Temathia, and\noverlooking the vast harbour of the same name as the town. It is surrounded\nonly by a wall without a ditch; the height commanding the city is a little\nhexagonal, defended by five towers at the external angles, which, with\nthe walls, were built by the Turks in 1572, but were never repaired till\nafter the war with the Russians in 1770; the Turks having previously taken\nit from the Venetians in 1499. At the gate of the fortress is a miserable\nGreek village; and the walls of the castle itself are in a dismantled\ncondition.\n\n\"The town within the wall,\" says Sir W. Gell, \"is like all those in this\npart of the world, encumbered with the fallen ruins of former habitations.\nThese have been generally constructed by the Turks, since the expulsion\nof the Venetians; for it appears, that till the long continued habit of\npossession had induced the Mahometans to live upon and cultivate their\nestates in the country, and the power of the Venetian republic had been\nconsumed by a protracted peace, a law was enforced which compelled every\nTurk to have a habitation in some one of the fortresses of the country.\nBut the habitatations,\" says our traveller, \"present generally an\nindiscriminate mass of ruins; they were originally erected in haste, and\nbeing often cemented with mud instead of mortar, the rains of autumn,\npenetrating between the outer and inner faces of the walls, swell the\nearth, and soon effect the ruin of the whole\"--it must be confessed, but\nsorry structures for the _triple_ fires of an enemy. Sir William, on his\nvisit, found the commandant in a state of misery not exceeded by the lot\nof his meanest fellow-citizens, except that his robes were somewhat in\nbetter condition. He received him \"very kindly in a dirty unfurnished\napartment,\" into which he \"climbed by a tottering ladder from a court\nstrewed with ruins;\" here he gave him \"coffee,\" after which he took his\nleave. What would a first lord of the Admiralty say to such a reception?\nand it must have been somewhat uncourtly to our traveller.\n\nThe soil about Navarino is of a red colour, and is remarkable for the\nproduction of an infinite quantity of squills, which are used in\nmedicine. The rocks, which show themselves in every direction through a\nscanty but rich soil, are limestone, and present a general appearance of\nunproductiveness round the castle of Navarino; and the absence of trees\nis ill compensated by the profusion of sage, brooms, cistus, and other\nshrubs which start from the innumerable cavities of the limestone.\n\nThe remains of Navarino Vecchio, or ancient Navarino, consist in a fort\nor castle of mean construction, covering the summit of a hill sloping\nquickly to the south, but falling in abrupt precipices to the north and\neast. The town was built on the southern declivity, and was surrounded\nby a wall, which, allowing for the natural irregularities of the soil,\nrepresented a triangle, with the castle at the apex or summit--a form\nobservable in many of the ancient cities of Greece.\n\nThe foundation of the walls throughout the whole circuit remains entire;\nbut the fortifications were never of any consequence, though they present\na picturesque group of turrets and battlements from below, and must have\nbeen very imposing from the sea,--an effect which those of the modern city\nhave recently failed to produce. From the top is an extensive view over\nthe island of Sphacteria, the port, with the town of Navarino to the\nsouth, and a considerable tract of the territory anciently called Messenia\non the east, with the conic hill, which, though some miles from the shore,\nis used as a landmark to point out the entrance of the port. Mr. Purdy, in\nhis _New Sailing Directory for the Mediterranean Sea_, says, \"from the\nsea, a frigate might, in two or three hours, batter down the walls (of\nNavarino); the artillery of the place (in 1825) consisted of forty pieces\nof cannon; the greater part in the fort, eight on the battery at the\nentrance of the harbour, and a few in some of the towers along the city.\"\nIt should be added that the port is said to be capable of containing 2,000\nsail; and the population of the town is about 3,000, the most of whom are\nTurks.\n\nTo the curious _dilettanti_ in dates, &c. (such as our friend _P.T.W._\n&c.) the following almost coinciding circumstances may not prove\nuninteresting:--The recent engagement took place on the anniversary of\nthe memorable battle of Salamis, 480 B.C. when the invading army of\nXerxes was defeated by the Greeks; and on which day Euripides, the Greek\ntragic poet, was born: Nestor is said to have been born at Navarino, as\nwe have already mentioned: and, lastly, the attack, of which the subjoined\nplan is illustrative, was made on the eve of the anniversary of the\nglorious battle of Trafalgar, in which victory the vice-admiral of\nNavarino, then captain of the Orient, was engaged.\n\n[Illustration: Plan]\n\nREFERENCES.\n\n1. The English Squadron.\n\n2. French Squadron.\n\n3. Russian Squadron.\n\n4. The combined Turko-Egyptian Fleet.\n\n5. The boat sent by the \"Dartmouth\" to one of the Turkish Fire Ships, in\nwhich Lieutenant G.W.H.F. Fitzroy was killed.\n\n6. and 7. Turkish Fire ships.\n\nThe other figures denote the depth of water in English fathoms.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nSEASONABLE RELICS.\n\nPART OF AN ANCIENT SONG.\n\n\nThe following is part of an old song which I have faithfully copied; it\nwas, I am told, sung at Wakes in the north of England, and also previous\nto Christmas: from the appearance, little doubt is left as to its being\nof northern composition.\n\nI have seen in former volumes of the MIRROR, specimens of two ancient\nballads, and as they are a curiosity, I have sent mine as being, I think,\nequally so. There is an old ballad which I have met with and purchased,\nentitled \"The Outlandish Knight,\" but it is certainly greatly altered,\nthough the tale is preserved.\n\n  This ean night, this ean night,\n    Every night and awle,\n  Fire and fleet,[1] and candle lyght,\n    And Chryst receyve thy sawle.\n\n  When those from hence dost passe awaye,\n    Every night and awle,\n  To whinnye moore thou com'st at last,\n    And Chryste receyve thy sawle.\n\n  If ever thou gav'st either hosen or shune,\n    Every night and awle,\n  Sit thee down and put them on,\n    And Chryst receyve thy sawle.\n\n  But if hosen and shune thou never gav'st nean,\n    Every night and awle,\n  The whinnes shall prick thee to the bare beane,\n    And Chryst receyve thy sawle.\n\n  From whynne moore then thou may'st passe,\n    Every night and awle,\n  To brigge of dread thou com'st at last,\n    And Christ receyve thy sawle.\n\n  From brigge of dread that thou may'st passe,\n    Every night and awle,\n  To purgatory fire thou com'st at last,\n    And Chryst receyve thy sawle.\n\n  If e'er thou gav'st either meate or drinke,\n    Every night and awle,\n  The fire shall never make thee shrynke,\n    And Chryst receyve thy sawle.\n\n  But yf meate and drinke thou never gav'st neane,\n    Every night and awle,\n  The fire shall burn thee to the bare beane,\n    And Chryst receyve thy sawle.\n\n    [1] Fleet from the Saxon flere, is cremon lactu, hence we have\n        flett or flit, milk.\n\nThe next I give you is an extract from the Court Rolls of the Borough of\nHales Owen, of the\n\n\n_Custom of Bride Ale._\n\n\"A payne ys made that no person or persons that shall brewe any weddyn\nale to sell, shall not brewe aboue twelve stryke of mault at the most,\nand that the said persons so marryed shall not keep nor haue above eyght\nmesse of persons at hys dinner within the burrowe, and before hys brydall\ndaye he shall keep no unlawfull games in hys house nor out of hys house\non payne of 20_s_.\"\n\nBesides \"Bride Ale,\" there was the Church Ales, and Easter Ales,\nWhitsuntide Ales, and a quantity of others which we have no accounts of.\nI conclude this short notice with the hope of soon supplying you with a\nfund of information against Christmas.\n\nW.H.H.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR OF HELEN.\n\n\n  Princess Helen was born of an egg,\n    And scarcely ten years had gone by,\n  When Theseus beginning to beg,\n    Decoyed the young chicken to fly.\n  When Tyndarus heard the disaster,\n    He crackled and thunder'd like Etna,\n  So out gallop'd Pollux and Castor,\n    And caught her a furlong from Gretna.\n      Singing rattledum, Greek Romanorum,\n        And hey classicality row.\n      Singing birchery, floggera, borum,\n        And folderol whack rowdy dow.\n\n  The newspapers puffed her each day,\n    Till the princes of Greece came to woo her,\n  Then coaxing the rest to give way,\n    She took Menalaus unto her,\n  So said they, \"though we grieve to resign,\n    Yet if ever you're put to a shift,\n  Let your majesty drop us a line,\n    And we'll all of us lend you a lift.\n      With our rattledum, &c.\"\n\n  Menelaus was happy to win her.\n    But she soon found a cure for his passion,\n  By hobbing or nobbing at dinner,\n    With Paris, a Trojan of fashion.\n  This chap was a slyish young dog,\n    The most jessamy fellow in life,\n  For he drank Menalaus' grog,\n    And d--me made off with his wife.\n      Singing rattledum, &c.\n\n  The princes were sent for, who swore\n    They would punish this finikin boy;\n  So Achilles and two or three more,\n    Undertook the destruction of Troy.\n  But Achilles grew quite ungenteel,\n    And prevented their stirring a peg,\n  Till Paris let fly at his heel,\n    And he found himself laid by the leg.\n      With his rattledum, &c.\n\n  The Grecians demolish'd the city,\n    And then (as the poets have told)\n  Dame Helen might still be called pretty,\n    Though very near sixty years old.\n  Menelaus, when madam was found,\n    Took her snugly away in his chaise,\n  So Troy being burnt to the ground,\n    Why the story goes off with a blaze.\n      And a rattledum, &c.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nHORSE-CHESTNUTS.\n\n(_To the Editor of the Mirror._)\n\n\nIn a recent number there was a notice of the uses of the _Esculus\nHippocastaneus_, or horse chestnuts; but a very important one was\nomitted, namely, its substitution occasionally for Peruvian bark in\ncases of intermittent fever. This disorder, known better by the name of\nague, had been formerly epidemic in Ireland, where the humidity of the\natmosphere is continually increased by the exhalation of the lochs and bogs\nwith which the country abounds. In consequence, however, of the formation\nof the Grand and Royal Canals, and the drainage of the waters in their\nvicinity, the tendency to this disease was greatly lessened; and about\ntwenty years ago the disorder was so rare in Dublin and the neighbourhood,\nthat the medical students often complained that they graduated without ever\nhaving an opportunity of seeing in the hospitals a single case of this once\nalmost universal disorder. In consequence, however, of the extreme wetness\nof one summer and autumn, agues again resumed their ascendancy, and the\nhospitals and dispensaries became crowded with intermittent patients, and\nall the bark of the druggists and apothecaries was put into requisition;\nbut to the surprise and disappointment of all the medical men, this\ninfallible specific was altogether inert and powerless, and after repeated\ntrials and disappointments, it was abandoned as useless. It was now a\nmatter of importance to ascertain the cause of this extraordinary\nfailure, whether it arose from the altered character of the complaint,\nor from the deteriorated quality of the medicine; and it was found to be\nthe latter. In consequence of the long cessation of intermittent fever,\nbark had been little used or called for, and the stock had remained so\nlong on hand, that it had become effete and worthless. It was necessary\nthen to try some substitute. Quassia-wood, the acorus calamus, and other\nbitters and aromatics, were tried; but that which seemed to succeed best\nwas the bark and kernel of the horse-chestnut. The nut was moderately\ndried in a stove, so as to be capable of being powdered, and in that state\nwas exhibited in substance with cayenne pepper and other aromatics. The\nbark was taken in infusions and decoctions with quassia, and the effects\nwere sometimes very decided and satisfactory, forming a providential\nsubstitute for the only kind of bark then to be procured in Ireland.\n\nW.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nSONNET.\n\n(_For the Mirror._)\n\n\n  Say what repays the gamester's nightly toil,\n    Can hell itself more hideous woes impart?\n  Can glitt'ring heaps of ill-begotten spoil,\n    Appease the cravings of his callous heart?\n  For this alone he severs every tie,\n    For this he marks unmov'd the orphan's tear,\n  E'en nature's charms, a smile from beauty's eye\n    No longer can his blasted prospects cheer.\n  But now prevails the dice's rattling sound,\n    The loud blaspheming oath, and cry of woe,\n  From tables set with spectre forms around,\n    Hurrying with frantic haste, th' expected throw!\n  Than this no greater foe to man remains\n    This is the mightiest triumph Satan gains!\n\nE.L.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nORIGINAL TRANSLATIONS.\n\n(_For the Mirror._)\n\nHorace.--Ode xxx.--B. 1.\n\n\nTO VENUS.\n\n_He invokes her to be present at Glycera's private sacrifice_\n\n\n  Venus! leave thy loved isle,\n  And on Glycera's altar smile;\n  Breathing perfumes hail the day,\n  Haste thee, Venus! haste away.\n\n  Bring with thee the am'rous boy;\n  The loose-rob'd Graces crown our joy!\n  Youth swell thy train, who owes to thee\n  Her charms, and winged Mercury!\n\n\nODE xxvi.--B. 3.\n\nTO THE SAME.\n\n_He renounces Love._\n\n\n  Not without renown was I,\n  In the ranks of gallantry.\n  Now, when Love no more will call,\n  To battle; on this sacred wall,\n  Venus, where her statue stands,\n  To hang my arms, and lute commands;\n  Here the bright torch to hang, and bars,\n  Which wag'd so oft loud midnight wars.\n\n  But, O blessed Cyprian queen!\n  Blest in Memphian bow'rs serene,\n  Raise high the lash, and Chloe's be,\n  All e'er proud Chloe dealt to me!\n\nW.P.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nArcana of Science.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Smoke of Lamps._\n\nA recent number of Gill's \"Technical Repository,\" contains a simple mode\nof consuming the smoke that ascends from the turner of an argand lamp. It\nconsists of a thin concave of copper, fixed by three wires, at about an\ninch above the chimney-glass of the lamp, yet capable of being taken off\nat pleasure. The gaseous carbonaceous matter which occasionally escapes\nfrom the top of lamps, is thus arrested beneath the concave cap, and\nsubsequently consumed by the heat of the flame, instead of passing off\ninto the room, in the form of smoke or smut on the ceiling and walls.\n\n[The \"Technical Repository,\" may have the credit of introducing this\ncontrivance to the British public; but it is somewhat curious that it had\nnot been previously adopted, since scores of lamps thus provided, are to\nbe seen in the caf\u00e9s and restaurateurs of Paris. _Apropos_, the French oil\nburns equal in brightness to our best gas, and as we are informed, this\npurity is obtained by filtration through charcoal.--ED.]\n\n\n_Caddis Worms._\n\nThe transformation of the deserted cases of numberless minute insects into\na constituent part of a solid rock, first formed at the bottom of a lake,\nthen constituting the sides of deep valleys, and the tabular summits of\nlofty hills, is a phenomenon as striking as the vast reefs of coral\nconstructed by the labours of minute polyps. We remember to have seen such\n_caddis-worms_, as they are called by fishermen, very abundant in the\nwooden troughs constructed by the late Dr. Sibthorp, for aquatic plants,\nin the botanic garden at Oxford, to the cases of which many small shells\nof the G. Planorbis Limnea and Cyclas were affixed, precisely in the same\nmanner as in the fossil tubes of Auvergne; an incrusting spring,\ntherefore, may, perhaps, be all that is wanting to reproduce, on the banks\nof the Isis or the Charwell, a rock similar in structure to that of the\nLimagne. Mr. Kirby, in his \"Entomology,\" informs us, that these larvae\nultimately change into a four-winged insect. If you are desirous to examine\nthem in their aquatic state, \"you have only, (he says) to place yourself by\nthe side of a clear and shallow pool of water, and you cannot fail to\nobserve at the bottom little oblong moving masses, resembling pieces of\nstraw, wood, or even stone--of the larvae itself, nothing is to be seen\nbut the head and six legs, by means of which it moves itself in the water,\nand drags after it the case in which the rest of the body is enclosed, and\ninto which, on any alarm, it instantly retires. The construction of these\nhabitations is very various. Some select four or five pieces of the leaves\nof grass, which they glue together into a shapely polygonal case; others\nemploy portions of the stems of rushes, placed side by side, so as to form\nan elegant fluted cylinder; some arrange round them pieces of leaves like\na spirally-rolled riband; other species construct houses which may be\ncalled alive, forming them of the shells of various aquatic snails of\ndifferent kinds and sizes, even while inhabited, all of which are\nimmovably fixed to them, and dragged about at pleasure. However various\nmay be the form of the case externally, within it is usually cylindrical\nand lined with silk.\"--_Introduction to Entomology, by Kirby and Spence._\n\n\n_Engraving on Glass._\n\nCover one side of a flat piece of glass, after having made it perfectly\nclean, with bees' wax, and trace figures upon it with a needle, taking\ncare that every stroke cuts completely through the wax. Next, make a\nborder of wax all round the glass, to prevent any liquor, when poured on,\nfrom running off. Then take some finely powdered fluate of lime (fluor\nspar,) strew it even over the glass plate upon the waxed side, and then\ngently pour upon it, so as not to displace the powder, as much concentrated\nsulphuric acid diluted with thrice its weight of water, as is sufficient\nto cover the powdered fluor spar. Let every thing remain in this state for\nthree hours; then remove the mixture, and clean the glass, by washing it\nwith oil of turpentine; the figures which were traced through the wax will\nbe found engraven on the glass, while the parts which the wax covered will\nbe uncorroded. The fluate of lime is decomposed by the sulphuric acid, and\nsulphate of lime is formed. The fluoric acid, disengaged in the gaseous\nstate, combines with the water that diluted the sulphuric acid, and forms\nliquid fluoric acid, by which the glass is corroded.\n\n\n_Habits of Seals._\n\nThe brain of this animal, observes Dr. Harwood, is I think, doubtless, of\ngreater proportionate magnitude than in any other quadruped, and not only\ndoes it exhibit in its countenance, the appearance of sagacity, but its\nintelligence is in reality far greater than in most land quadrupeds: hence\nits domestication is rendered much easier than that of other animals, and\nit is susceptible of more powerful attachment. The large seal, which was\nexhibited some time ago at Exeter 'Change, appeared to me to understand\nthe language of its keeper as perfectly as the most faithful dog. When he\nentered at one end of its long apartment, it raised its body from the\nwater, in which it was injudiciously too constantly kept, supporting itself\nerect against the bar of its enclosure, and wherever he moved, keeping its\nlarge, dark eyes steadfastly fixed upon him. When desired to make obeisance\nto visitors, it quickly threw itself on one side, and struck the opposite\none several times in quick succession with its fore-foot, producing a loud\nnoise. The young seal, again, which was kept on board the Alexander, in one\nof the northern expeditions, became so much attached to its new mode of\nlife, that after being thrown into the sea, and it had become tired of\nswimming at liberty, it regularly returned to the side of the beat, to be\nretaken on board. Such examples might be greatly multiplied; and I cannot\nhelp stating, that aware of this disposition to become familiar, and this\nparticipation in the good qualities of the dog, it is astonishing that\nmankind have not chosen this intellectual and finely organized quadruped,\nfor aquatic services scarcely less important than some of those in which\nthe dog is employed on the surface of the land.--_Quarterly Journal._\n\n\n_Gas from Resin._\n\nMr. Daniel, the meteorologist, has contrived a process for generating gas\nfrom resin; which he effects by dissolving the resin in turpentine, or\nany other essential oil, and then allowing the fluid to drop gradually in\na heated cylinder of iron.\n\n\n_Liquorice Paper._\n\nA mode has been discovered in France of fabricating paper solely from the\nGlycyrrhiza Germanica, or liquorice plant. It is said that this paper is\ncheap, that it is of a whiteness superior to that generally made, and that\nsize is not requisite in its manufacture.\n\n\n_Tachygraphy._\n\nA mathematical instrument maker at Paris, of the name of Conti, has\nconceived the notion of a portable instrument which he calls a tachygraph,\nby means of which any person may write, or rather print, as fast as any\nother person can speak. M. Conti, however, like many other ingenious men,\nis not rich; and he has applied to the Acad\u00e9mi\u00e8 des Sciences, for pecuniary\nassistance, and a very favourable report has been made upon his request.\n\n\n_Valuable Discovery in Agriculture._\n\nOne of the most recent of useful discoveries in agriculture is to mix\nlayers of green or new cut clover with layers of straw in ricks or stacks;\nthus the strength of the clover is absorbed by the straw, which, thus\nimpregnated, both horses and cattle eat greedily, and the clover is dried\nand prevented from heating. This practice is particularly calculated for\nsecond crops of clover and rye-grass.\n\n\n_Pine Apples._\n\nThe largest pine ever grown in this kingdom was cut lately from the\nhothouse of John Edwards, Esq. of Rheola, Glamorganshire, and was presented\nto his Majesty at Windsor. It weighed 14 lbs. 12 oz. avoirdupois, was\n12-1/2 inches high, exclusive of the crown, and 26 inches in circumference.\n\n\n_Sea Couch for preventing Sickness._\n\nAn elastic or swinging seat, couch, or bed, for preventing the uneasy\nmotions of a ship or a carriage, has recently been invented. To effect\nthis, the frame of the seat or couch is suspended on juribals or joints,\nturning at right angles to each other, and an elasticity is produced both\nin the seat or cushion, and in the swinging frames, by the use of spiral\nmetal springs. These springs are made by twisting steel or iron wire into\nthe form of an hour glass, that is, like two cones united at their apices.\nThe lower points of their springs are to be sown to the canvass or webbing,\nand their upper parts secured in their proper situations and erect\npositions by pack-thread or small cords, tied or braced from one to the\nother, crossing like a net. On the tops of these springs the usual covering\nof canvass is laid, and then a thin layer of horsehair or wool, upon which\nthe outer covering is bitted. Sir Richard Phillips, in the _Monthly\nMagazine_, describes the following successful experiment for preventing\nsea-sickness, made on his crossing from Dover to Calais, a few years\nsince. He caused an armed chair to be placed on the deck of the vessel,\nand being seated in it, he began to raise himself up and down, as on\nhorseback. The passengers laughed at his eccentricity, but before they\nreached Calais, many of them were sea-sick, whilst Sir Richard continued\nto enjoy his usual health and vigour.\n\n\n_Bites of Venomous Reptiles._\n\nM. le D'Record, sen. discovered, during a long residence in America, what\nhe considers a sure mode of preventing mischief from such bites. \"It is\nsufficient,\" he says, \"to pour a few drops of tincture of cantharides on\nthe wound, to cause a redness and vesiccation; not only is the poison\nrendered harmless, but the stings of the reptiles are removed with the\nepidermis that the bladder raises.\"--_Med. Journal._\n\n\n_Naval Schools of France._\n\nIn France, the system of mutual instruction among the working classes\nprospers in the bosoms of the ports, and schools are founded for the\nparticular instruction of the sons of the inferior officers of the\narsenals, in the elements of calculation, of geometry, and of design, as\nfar as necessary for the plans of ships; also the principles of statics,\nso as to enable them to judge of the action and effect of machinery. Prizes\nof gold medals and special promotions are the rewards of the most deserving\nstudents. Brest was formerly the only port furnished with these schools;\nsince the peace, however, libraries are forming in each of the others; and\nin almost all, cabinets of natural history and botanical gardens are\nenriched at every voyage undertaken by French ships, either to foreign\ncoasts, or to those of the French colonies. An observatory has been given\nto Toulon and Rochefort. In both these ports naval museums are formed, in\norder to preserve types of the most eminent vessels, whose originals either\nhave been, or soon will be, destroyed by time. Models of ingenious\nmachines, representations of interesting manoeuvres, a methodical\ncollection of raw materials, of tools, and of the product of all the arts\nexercised in a dock-yard--Such are the rich materials collected in these\ninteresting repositories.--_From the French of M. Dupin._\n\n\n_Antiquity of Locks._\n\nLocks were known in Egypt above four thousand years since, as was inferred\nby M. Denon, from some sculptures of the great temple of Karnac,\nrepresenting locks similar to those now used in that country. A lock\nresembling the Egyptian is used in Cornwall, and the same has been seen in\nthe Faro Islands; to both which places it was probably taken by the\nPhoenicians.--_Quarterly Journal._\n\n\n_To increase the odour of Roses._\n\nPlant a large onion by the side of the rose-tree in such a manner that it\nshall touch the root of the latter. The rose which will be produced will\nhave an odour much stronger and more agreeable than such as have not been\nthus treated; and the water distilled from these roses is equally superior\nto that prepared by means of ordinary rose leaves.--_From the French._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nThe Selector;\n\nAND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE SPECTRE'S VOYAGE.\n\n  \"I see a hand you cannot see,\n    That beckons me away,\n  I hear a voice you cannot hear,\n    That will not let me stay.\"\n\n\nThere is a part of the river Wye, between the city of Hereford and the town\nof Ross, which was known for more than two centuries by the appellation of\n\"The Spectre's Voyage;\" and across which, as long as it retained that\nappellation, neither entreaty nor remuneration would induce any boatman to\nconvey passengers after a certain hour of the night. The superstitious\nnotions current among the lower orders were, that at about the hour of\neight on every evening, a female was seen in a small vessel sailing from\nHereford to Northbrigg, a little village then distant about three miles\nfrom the city, of which not even the site is now discernible; that the\nvessel sailed with the utmost rapidity in a dead calm and even against the\nwind; that to encounter it was fatal; that the voyager landed from it on\nthe eastern bank of the river, a little beyond the village; that she\nremained some time on shore, making the most fearful lamentations; that she\nthen re-entered the vessel, and sailed back in the same manner, and that\nboth boat and passenger vanished in a sudden manner as they arrived at a\ncertain part of the river, where the current is remarkably strong, within\nabout half a mile of the city of Hereford,\n\nThis singular tradition, like most stories of a similar character, was not\nwithout a foundation in truth, as the reader will perceive who takes the\ntrouble to peruse the following narrative.\n\nIn the turbulent reign of Edward the Second, when the whole of England was\none theatre of lawless violence, when might was constantly triumphant over\nright, and princes and soldiers only respected the very intelligible, if\nnot very equitable principle,\n\n\n  \"That they should take who have the power,\n  And they should keep who can,\"\n\n\nthe city of Hereford was distinguished by the zeal and patriotism of its\ncitizens, and by the unshrinking firmness with which they adhered to the\ncause of queen Isabella, and the young prince her son, afterwards the\nrenowned king Edward the Third, in opposition to the weak and ill-fated\nmonarch who then wore the crown, and his detested favourites the Spensers,\nfather and son. Sir Hugh Spenser, the younger, was a man of unquestionable\ntalents, and possessed virtues which, during a period of less violence and\npersonal animosity, might have proved honourable to himself, and useful to\nhis country.\n\nThe discontents of the queen and the barons were not vented in fruitless\ncomplaints or idle menaces. They flew to arms. The king of France, the\nqueen's brother, assisted them with men and money; the Count of Hainault,\nto whose daughter Philippa, the young prince had been contracted, did the\nsame. The king was driven from London, and forced, with the elder Spenser,\nwhom he had created Earl of Winchester, to take refuge in Bristol. Being\nhotly pursued to this city by the Earl of Kent and the Count of Hainault,\nat the head of a formidable army, he was obliged to flee into Wales,\nleaving the elder Spenser governor of the castle of Bristol. This fortress\nwas immediately besieged, and speedily taken, as the garrison mutinied\nagainst their governor, and delivered him into the hands of his enemies.\nThis venerable noble, who had nearly reached his ninetieth year, was\ninstantly, without trial, or witness, or accusation, or answer, condemned\nto death by the rebellious barons; he was hanged on a gibbet; his body was\ncut to pieces and thrown to the dogs; and his head was sent to Winchester,\nthe place whence he derived his title, and was there set on a pole, and\nexposed to the insults of the populace.\n\nWhen the news of this catastrophe reached the younger Spenser, he was at\nthe head of a fine army, which had sat down before the city of Hereford,\nfor the purpose of reducing it to obedience to king Edward. The formidable\nforce which he commanded had struck terror into the hearts of the citizens,\nso that notwithstanding their attachment to queen Isabella, and their\ndetestation of Spenser, they had shown symptoms of their willingness to\nyield to the latter upon reasonable terms; and he, desirous of obtaining\npossession of the city without any unnecessary effusion of blood, had\ngranted a truce of a week's duration, to give them time to decide upon what\nconditions they would open their gates to him. The disastrous intelligence\nwhich he received from Bristol, however, made him doubtful whether he\nshould hold inviolate the truce which he had granted to the besieged. He\ndid not doubt but that the Earl of Kent and his troops, flushed with\nconquest, would hasten to his destruction, and to the relief of Hereford,\nand that unless he could possess himself of the city and castle, and by\nshutting himself up in the latter be enabled to bid defiance to his\nenemies, the fate of his father must inevitably be his own.\n\nThe favourite recreation of the inhabitants of Hereford was then, as it is\nnow, to make excursions either alone, or in parties, upon their beautiful\nriver. This amusement had become so much a custom with them, that the most\ntimid females were not afraid to venture alone and at night in a small\nskiff, with which almost every family of respectability was provided; and\non a bright moonlight night, the bosom of the river was beautifully\ndiversified by the white sails glittering in the moonbeams, while sweet\nfemale voices would be heard warbling some popular melodies, the, subjects\nof which were usually the praises of prince Edward, or execrations of\nSpenser and those who had corrupted the king. It was on such a night, that\nthe incident with which our narrative commences occurred. The moon was\nriding in an unclouded sky--unclouded except by those light fleecy vapours\nwhich hovered round the form of the queen of night, increasing rather than\ndiminishing her beauty. The river seemed one sheet of silver, and numerous\nlittle vessels passing and repassing, gave it a delightfully animated\nappearance. In one, which seemed to be venturing nearer to the camp of the\nenemy than the others, might be seen a light and delicate female form, and\non the shore which she was approaching, a little above the village of\nNorthbrigg, stood a soldier, whose accoutrements bespoke him to belong to\nthe army of Sir Hugh Spenser.\n\nThe lady landed, and the soldier hastened to meet her. \"Dearest Isabel,\"\nhe said, \"blessings upon thy generous trusting heart, for this sweet\nmeeting! I have much to tell thee, but that my tongue dares not utter all\nwith which my mind is stored; and if it dared, it is not on such a night\nas this, so bright, so beautiful, that tidings dark as mine should be\ncommunicated.\" Isabel, who had laid her head upon his breast when they\nmet, started from him, and gazed with the utmost terror and surprise at\nthe unwonted gloom which darkened his countenance.\n\n\"Walter, what means this? Come you to break the trusting heart which beats\nfor you alone? Come you to cancel your vows--to say that we must part for\never? Oh! better had you left me to the mercy of the wave, when its work\nof death was half achieved, if you reserved me only for the misery which\nwaits upon a broken heart, and blighted and betrayed affections?\"\n\n\"Sweet, dry these tears!\" replied the soldier; \"while I have life I am\nthine. I come to warn thee of sure but unseen danger. The walls of\nHereford are strong, and the arms and hearts of her citizens firm and\ntrusty; but her hour is come, and the path of the destroyer, although\nsecret, is like the stream which hides itself for a time beneath the earth\nonly to spring forth more strongly and irresistibly than ever.\"\n\n\"Thy words are dark and dreadful; but I do not know of any cause for fear,\nor of any means of avoiding it, if it exists.\"\n\n\"Fly with me, fly!--with thy heart and hand reward my love, and think no\nmore of those grim walls, and sullen citizens, with souls as iron as their\nbeavers, and hearts as cold as the waters of their river.\"\n\n\"Oh! no, no, no! my father's head is grey, and but for me alone all his\naffections, all his hopes are buried in my mother's grave. He hates thee\nand thy cause. When I told him a stranger had rescued his daughter from\nthe wave, he raised his hands to heaven and blessed him. I told him that\nthat stranger was a follower of the Spensers'; he checked his unfinished\nbenediction, and cursed him. But if he knew thee, Walter, thy noble heart,\nthy constant love, methinks that time and entreaty would make him listen\nto his daughter's prayer.\"\n\n\"Alas! my Isabel, entreaty would be vain, and time is already flapping his\nwings, loaded with inevitable ruin, over yon devoted city and its\ninhabitants. Thy father shall be safe--trust that to me; and trust me, too,\nthat what I promise I can perform. But thou, my loved one, thou must not\nlook upon the horrid face of war: and though my power extends to save thy\nfather from injury, it would be easier to save the wall-flowers on the\nramparts of the city from the foot of the invader, than one so fair, so\nfeeble, from his violence and lust.\"\n\n\"Whoe'er thou art,\" she said, \"there is a spell upon my heart which love\nand gratitude have twined, and which makes it thine for ever: but sooner\nwould I lock my hand with that of the savage Spenser himself, when reeking\nwith the best blood of Hereford's citizens, than leave my father's side\nwhen his gray hairs are in danger, and my native city, when treachery is\nin her streets and outrage is approaching her walls.\"\n\nThese words were uttered with an animation and vehemence so unusual to\nher, that Walter stood for a moment transfixed with wonder; and before he\nrecovered his self-possession, Isabel, with the velocity of lightning, had\nregained her skiff, and was sailing before the wind to Hereford. \"Curse on\nmy amorous folly!\" he exclaimed, \"that, for a pair of pale cheeks and\nsparkling eyes, has perhaps ruined a better concerted stratagem than ever\nentered the brain of the Grecian Sinon. I must away, or the false girl\nwill wake the slumbering citizens to their defence before the deed is\ndone; and yet, must I devote her to the foul grasp of ruffian violence?\nNo, no! my power is equal to save or to destroy.\" As he uttered these\nwords he rapidly ascended the rocks which skirted that part of the banks\nof the river on which he stood, and was soon lost among the wild woods\nthat crowned their summit.\n\nWe shall not enter into any detailed account of the events of that night.\nThe royalists, by means of an unexpected attack during the truce, and\naided by internal treachery, hoped to make themselves masters of the city\nof Hereford. The citizens, however, had by some unknown means obtained\nintelligence of the designs of the enemy, and were prepared to repel their\nattacks. Every street was lined with soldiers, and a band of the bravest\nand most determined, under the command of Eustace Chandos, (Isabel's\nfather,) manned the city walls. The struggle was short but sanguinary--the\ninvaders were beaten back at every point, their best troops were left dead\nin the trenches, and above two hundred prisoners (among whom was Sir Hugh\nSpenser himself) fell into the hands of the citizens. The successful party\nset no bounds either to their exultation or their revenge. The rejoicings\nwere continued for three successive days; the neighbouring country was\nravaged without cessation and without remorse; and all the prisoners were\nordered, by a message to that effect received from queen Isabella, to be\ntreated as felons, and hanged in the most public places in the city. This\ndecree was rigorously and unrelentingly executed. The royalist soldiers,\nwithout any distinction as to rank or character, suffered the ignominious\npunishment to which they were condemned, and the streets of Hereford were\nblocked up by gibbets, which the most timid and merciful of its\ninhabitants gazed upon with satisfaction and triumph.\n\nSir Hugh Spenser, both on account of his rank and of the peculiar degree\nof hatred with which each bosom beat against him, was reserved to be the\nlast victim. On the day of his execution the streets were lined with\nspectators, and the principal families in the city occupied stations round\nthe scaffold. So great was the universal joy at having their enemy in their\npower, that even the wives and daughters of the most distinguished citizens\nwere anxious to view the punishment inflicted upon him whom they considered\nthe grand cause of all the national evils. Isabel was not of this number;\nbut her father sternly compelled her to be a witness of the dismal scene.\nThe hour of noon was fast approaching, and the bell of the cathedral\nheavily and solemnly tolled the knell of the unfortunate Spenser. The fatal\ncavalcade approached the place of execution. A stern and solemn triumph\ngleamed in the eyes of the soldiers as they trod by the side of the victim;\nbut most of the spectators, especially the females, were melted into tears\nwhen they beheld the fine manly form of the prisoner, which seemed better\nfitted to adorn the royal levee, or a lady's bower, than for the melancholy\nfate to which he was about to be consigned. His head was bare, and his\nlight flaxen hair fell in a rich profusion of locks down his shoulders, but\nleft unshaded his finely-proportioned and sunburnt features. He wore the\nuniform of the royal army, and a star on his breast indicated his rank,\nwhile he held in his hand a small ivory cross, which he frequently and\nfervently kissed. His deportment was firm and contemptuous, and, as he\nlooked on the formal and frequently grotesque figures of his guards, his\nfeatures even assumed an expression of risibility. The sight of the gibbet,\nhowever, which was raised fifty feet high, seemed to appal him, for he had\nnot been apprized of the ignominious nature of his punishment. \"And is\nthis,\" he said, as he scornfully dashed away a tear which had gathered in\nhis eye, \"ye rebellious dogs, is this the death to which you doom the heir\nof Winchester?\" A stern and bitter smile played on the lips of his guards,\nbut they remained silent. \"Oh, God!\" he continued, \"in the field, or on the\nwave, or on the block, which has reeked so often with the bravest and\nnoblest blood, I could have died smiling; but this--\" His emotion seemed\nincreasing, but with a violent effort he suppressed every outward sign of\nit; for the visible satisfaction which gleamed on the dark faces around\nhim, at the state of weakness to which they had reduced the proud heart of\ntheir foe, was more galling to his soul than the shameful death to which he\nwas devoted.\n\nBy the time he reached the place of execution his face had assumed its\ncalm and scornful air, and he sprang upon the scaffold with apparently\nunconcerned alacrity. At the same moment a dreadful shriek issued from that\npart of the surrounding booths in which the family of Chandos sat; and in\nanother instant a female, deadly pale, and with her hair and dress\ndisordered, had darted on to the scaffold, and clasped the prisoner in her\narms.\n\n\"Walter!\" she cried, \"Walter! can it be thou? oh! they dare not take thy\nlife; thou bravest, best of men! Avaunt, ye bloodthirsty brood! ye cannot\ntear me from him. Not till my arms grow cold in death I'll clasp him thus,\nand defy the world to sever us!\"\n\n\"Oh! Isabel!\" he said, \"it is too much; my soul can bear no more. I hoped\nthy eyes had been spared this sight--but the cold tyrants have decreed it\nthus. On! leave me, leave me!--it is in vain--unmannered ruffians, spare\nher!\" While he spoke, the soldiers forcibly tore her from him, and were\ndragging her through the crowd.--\"My father! save him! he saved thy\nchild!--Walter! supplicate him--he is kind.\" She turned her eyes to the\nscaffold as she uttered these words, and beheld the form of Spenser\nwrithing in the air, and convulsed with the last mortal agony. A fearful\nshriek burst from her heart, and she sank senseless in the arms of those\nwho bore her.\n\nIsabel survived this event more than a twelvemonth; but her reason had\nfled and her health was so shattered that final recovery was hopeless.\nShe took scarcely any food, refused all intercourse with her former\nfriends, and even with her father, and would sit silent and motionless\nfor days together. One thing only soothed her mind, or afforded her any\ngratification; and this, as she was an experienced navigator of the\nriver, her friends indulged her in--to sail from the city of Hereford to\nthat spot on which she used to meet her lover. This she did constantly\nevery evening; but when she landed, and had waited a short time, her\nshrieks and cries were pitiable. This practice one evening proved fatal.\nInstead of steering to the usual landing-place, a little above the city,\nshe entered a part of the river where the current is unusually strong.\nThe rapidity of its waves mastered and overturned the frail bark in which\nshe sailed, and the unfortunate Isabel sunk to rise no more!\n\nThe tragic nature of these events made an impression on the popular mind\nwhich two centuries did not efface. The spirit of Isabel was still said\nto sail every night from Hereford to Northbrigg, to meet her lover; and\nthe beach across the river which this unearthly traveller pursued, was\nlong distinguished by the name of \"The Spectre's Voyage.\"\n\n_Neele's Romance of History._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nIRISH GRANDEES.\n\n\nConspicuous amongst the most conspicuous of the stars; of the ascendant,\nwas a lady, who took the field with an _\u00e9clat_, a brilliancy, and bustle,\nwhich for a time fixed the attention of all upon herself. Although a fine\nwoman, in the strictest sense of the term, and still handsome, though not\nstill very young, she was even more distinguished by her air of high\nsupremacy, than by her beauty. She sat loftily in a lofty phaeton, which\nwas emblazoned with arms, and covered with coronets; and she played with\nher long whip, as ladies of old managed their fans, with grace and\ncoquetry. She was dressed in a rich habit, whose facings and epaulettes\nspoke her the lady of the noble colonel of some provincial corps of\nvolunteers. A high military cap, surmounted with a plume of black feathers,\nwell became her bright, bold, black eyes, and her brow that looked as if\naccustomed \"to threaten and command.\" The air had deepened her colour\nthrough her rouge, as it had blown from her dark, dishevelled tresses the\nmareschal powder, then still worn in Ireland--(the last lingering barbarism\nof the British toilette, which France had already abandoned, with other\nbarbarous modes, and exchanged for the _coiffure d'Arippine_ and the _t\u00eate\n\u00e0 la Brutus_.) Her _pose_, her glance, her nod, her smile, all conscious\nand careless as they were, proclaimed a privileged autocrat of the Irish\n_bon ton_, a \"_dasher_,\" as it was termed, of the first order; for that\nspecies of effrontery called _dashing_ was then in full vogue, as consonant\nto a state of society, where all in a certain class went by assumption.\n\nThis lady had arrived rather early in the field, for one whose habits were\nnecessarily on the wrong side of time and of punctuality. She came bowling\nalong, keeping up her fiery steeds to a sort of curvetting gallop, like one\ndeep in the science of the _man\u00e8ge_--now deranging the order of march of\nthe troops, by breaking through the ranks, in spite of the impertinent\nremonstrances of the out-posts and videttes, at which she laughed, at once\nto show her teeth and her power;--and now scattering the humble crowd,\n\"like chaff before the wind,\" as giving her horses the rein, she permitted\nthem to plunge head-long on, while skilfully flourishing her long whip, she\nmade on every side a preliminary clearance. Many among the multitude\nannounced her as the famous Kitty Cut-dash, and nodded knowingly as she\npassed them; but the greater number detected in the beautiful charioteer,\nthe equally famous Albina Countess Knocklofty, the female chief of that\ngreat oligarchical family, the Proudforts--a family on which the church\nrained mitres, the state coronets, and the people--curses.\n\nBeside her sat, or rather lounged, another dame of quality, bearing the\nstamp of her class and caste as obviously, yet less deeply marked, than\nher companion. More feminine in her air, more foreign in her dress and\nentire bearing, her faultless form, and almost faultless face, had all the\nadvantages of the new democratic toilet of Paris, (adopted by its court,\nwhen more important innovations were still fatally resisted;) and she\nappeared in the Phoenix Park, dressed much in the same costume as Marie\nAntoinette and her female favourites are described to have worn in the\ngardens of Trianon, or in the bowers of St. Cloud,--to the horror of all\nold _dames d'atours_, and all the partisans of the ancient regime of\nwhalebone and buckram! The chemise of transparent muslin, or _robe \u00e0 la\nPoliynae_, _chapeau de paille \u00e0 la bergere_, tied down with a lilac\nribbon, with\n\n\n  \"Scarf loosely flowing, hair as free,\"\n\n\ngave an air of sylph-like simplicity to one, whose features, though\nbeautiful, were marked by an expression foreign to simplicity, evincing\nthat taste, not sentiment, presided over her toilet, and that, \"_chez\nelle, un beau desordre fut l'effet de l'art_.\"\n\nThis triumphal car was followed, or surrounded, by a host of beaux; some\nin military uniform, and with true English faces and figures; but the\ngreater number in the civil, though uncivilized, dress of the day, and\nwith forms and physiognomies as Irish as ever were exhibited in Pale or\nPalatine, to the dread of English settlers and Scotch undertakers.\nPonderous powdered clubs, hanging from heads of dishevelled hair--shoulders\nraised or stuffed to an Atlas height and breadth--the stoop of paviers,\nand the lounge of chairmen--broad beavers, tight buckskins, the striped\nvest of a groom, and the loose coat of a coachman, gave something ruffianly\nto the air of even the finest figures, which assorted but too well with the\ndaring, dashing manner, that just then had succeeded, among a _particular\nset_, to the courtly polish for which the travelled nobility of Ireland\nwere once so distinguished. Such, in exterior, were many of the members of\nthe famous _Cherokee Club_, and such the future legislators of that great\nnational indignity, which had procured them a contemptible pre-eminence in\nthe black book of public opinion, by the style and title of the \"_Union\nLords_.\" As they now crowded round the cynosures of the day, there was\nsomething too ardent and unrestrained in their homage, something too\nemphatic in their expressions and gestures, for true breeding; while in\ntheir handsome, but \"light, revelling, and protesting faces,\" traces of\nthe night's orgies were still visible, which gave their fine features a\nlicentious cast, and deprived their open and very manly countenances of\nevery mark of intellectual expression.--_Lady Morgan's \"O'Briens and\nO'Flahertys.\"_\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE WEE MAN.\n\n\n  It was a merry company.\n    And they were just afloat,\n  When lo! a man of dwarfish span\n    Came up and hail'd the boat.\n\n  \"Good morrow to ye, gentle folks,\n    And will you let me in?\n  A slender space will serve my case,\n    For I am small and thin.\"\n\n  They saw he was a dwarfish man,\n    And very small and thin;\n  Not seven such would matter much,\n    And so they took him in.\n\n  They laugh'd to see his little hat,\n    With such a narrow brim;\n  They laugh'd to note his dapper coat,\n    With skirts so scant and trim.\n\n  But barely had they gone a mile,\n    When, gravely, one and all,\n  At once began to think the man\n    Was not so very small.\n\n  His coat had got a broader skirt,\n    His hat a broader brim,\n  His leg grew stout, and soon plump'd out\n    A very proper limb.\n\n  Still on they went, and as they went\n    More rough the billows grew,--\n  And rose and fell, a greater swell,\n    And he was swelling too!\n\n  And lo! where room had been for seven,\n    For six there scarce was space!\n  For five!--for four!--for three!--not more\n    Than two could find a place!\n\n  There was not even room for one!\n    They crowded by degrees--\n  Ay, closer yet, till elbows met,\n    And knees were jogging knees.\n\n  \"Good sir, you must not sit a-stern.\n    The wave will else come in!\"\n  Without a word he gravely stirr'd,\n    Another seat to win.\n\n  \"Good sir, the boat has lost her trim,\n    You must not sit a-lee!\"\n  With smiling face and courteous grace\n    The middle seat took he.\n\n  But still by constant quiet growth,\n    His back became so wide.\n  Each neighbour wight, to left and right,\n    Was thrust against the side.\n\n  Lord! how they chided with themselves,\n    That they had let him in;\n  To see him grow so monstrous now,\n    That came so small and thin.\n\n  On every brow a dew-drop stood,\n    They grew so scared and hot,--\n  \"I' the name of all that's great and tall,\n    Who are ye, sir, and what?\"\n\n  Loud laugh'd the Gogmagog, a laugh\n    As loud as giant's roar--\n  \"When first I came, my proper name\n    Was _Little_--now I'm _Moore_!\"\n\n_Hood's Whims and Oddities Second series._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nManners & Customs of all Nations.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo. XV.\n\n\nLIVING AT CALAIS.\n\n\nCalais may, for various reasons, be looked upon as one of the dearest towns\nin France. An excellent suite of furnished apartments may be had in one of\nthe most respectable _private_ houses in Calais, consisting of a\nsitting-room, three bedrooms, and a kitchen, for twenty shillings a week,\nand smaller ones in proportion, down to five shillings a week for a\nbachelor's apartment. This, however, does not include _attendance_ of any\nkind; and, with few exceptions, the apartments can only be taken by the\nmonth. The price of meat is fixed by a _tarif_, at a maximum of sixpence\nper pound for the very best. It varies, therefore, between that price and\nfourpence; and this pound contains something more than ours. Poultry is\nstill cheaper, in proportion, or rather in fact. My dinner to-day consists,\nin part, of an excellent fowl, which cost _8d._ and a pair of delicate\nducks, which cost _1s. 6d._ The price of bread is also fixed by law, and\namounts to about two-thirds of the _present_ price of ours in London.\nButter and eggs are excellent, and always fresh: the first costs from _9d._\nto _10d._ the pound of 18 ounces; and the latter _10d._ the quarter of a\nhundred. Vegetables and fruit, which are all of the finest quality, and\nfresh from the gardens of the adjacent villages, are as follow:--asparagus,\nat the rate of _8d._ or _9d._ the hundred, peas (the picked young ones,)\n_3d._ per quart; new potatoes (better than any we can get in England,\nexcept what they call the _framed_ ones,) three pounds far a penny;\ncherries and currants (picked for the table,) _2d._ per pound; strawberries\n(the high flavoured wood-strawberry, which is so fine with sugar and\ncream,) _4d._ for a full quart, the stocks being picked off. (This latter\nis a delicacy that can scarcely be procured in England for any price.) The\nabove may serve as an indication of all the rest, as all are in proportion.\nThe finest pure milk is _2d._ per quart; good black or green teas, _4s.\n6d._ per pound; and the finest green gunpowder tea, _7s._; coffee, from\n_1s. 3d._ to _2s._; good brandy, _1s. 3d._ per quart, and the very best,\n_2s._ (I do not mean the very finest old Cogniac, which costs _3s. 6d._)\nWine is dearer in Calais than, perhaps, in any other town in France, that\ncould be named; but still you may have an excellent table wine for _1s._\nper quart bottle; and they make a very palatable and wholesome beer, for\n_1-1/2d._ and _2-1/2d._ per bottle--the latter of which has all the good\nqualities of our porter, and none of its bad. Fish is not plentiful at\nCalais, except the skate, which you may have for almost nothing, as indeed\nyou may at many of our own sea-port towns. But you may always have good\nsized turbot (enough for six persons for _3s._ and a cod weighing from\ntwelve to fifteen pounds,) for half that sum. As to the wages of female\nservants, they can scarcely be considered as much cheaper, nominally, than\nthey are with us. But then the habits of the servants, and the cost of what\nthey eat, make their _keep_ and wages together amount to not more than half\nwhat they do with us.\n\nIt only remains to tell you of what is _dearer_ here than it is in England,\nI have tried all I can to find out items belonging to this latter head, and\nhave succeeded in _two_ alone--namely, sugar and fuel. You cannot have\nbrown sugar under _8d._ and indifferent loaf sugar costs _1s. 3d._ And as\nto firing, it is dearer, _nominally_ alone, and in point of fact, does not\ncost, to a well regulated family, near so much, in the course of the year,\nas coals do in our houses.--_Monthly Magazine._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nROMAN FUNERALS.\n\n\nThe ceremonial of the funeral of a cardinal is considered as one of the\nmost imposing at Rome, which is a city of ceremonies, and yielding only\nin magnificence to the obsequies of royal personages. The burial of the\nMezzo-ceto classes is conducted rather differently. The body is exposed\nmuch in the same manner, at home; but the convoi, or passage from the\nhabitation to the sepulchre, is generally considered as an occasion which\ncalls for the utmost display. Torches, priests, psalmody, are sought for\nwith a spirit of rivalry which easily explains the sumptuary laws of the\nFlorentine and Roman statute-books, and which, unnoticed but not\nextinguished in the present age, in a poorer must have been highly\noffensive to the frugality and jealousies of a republic. The religious\norders, the Capucins particularly, are in constant requisition; not a day\nthat you may not meet two or three of their detachments in various parts\nof the city:---the religious or charitable fraternities, such as the\nFratelli della Misericordia, of which the deceased is generally a brother\nor a benefactor, or both, think it also a point of duty and gratitude to\nswell the _cort\u00e8ge_, and in the greatest numbers they can muster to attend.\nTheir costume, which is highly picturesque, is always a striking feature,\nand adds much to the brilliancy of the display. They wear a sort of sack\nrobe or tunic, which covers the whole body, girt with a rope round the\nwaist, and with holes pierced in the _capuchon_ for the eyes; their large\ngrey slouched hat is thrown back, much in the manner in which it appears\non the statues of Mercury, on their shoulders; their feet are often in\nzoccoli, or sandals of wood, and sometimes, though rarely, bare. The\ncolour of their dress varies according to the rule of their society; at\nRome, I have noticed white, blue, and grey: at Florence they prefer black.\nThe corpse is dressed up with great care, and often with a degree of luxury\nwhich would become a wedding; the best linen, the richest ornaments, are\nlavished; garlands are placed on the head; the hands crossed, with a\ncrucifix between them, on the bosom, and the face and feet left quite bare.\nSometimes, through a capricious fit of piety, all this is studiously\ndispensed with, and the body appears clad in the habit of some religious\norder, to which the deceased was especially addicted during life. In this\nmanner the procession begins to move after sunset, preceded by a tall\nsilver cross, beadles, &c.; friars, priests, &c. chanting the De Profundis\nthrough the principal streets to the church where it is intended it should\nbe interred.\n\nThe effect, with some abatements for boys following to pick up the\ndrippings of the torches, and the perfect indifference of the assistants,\nfor neither friends nor relatives attend, is certainly very solemn. The\ndeep hoarse recitative of the psalm, the strange phantom-like appearance\nof the fraternities, the flash and glare of the torches which they carry,\non the face of the dead; the dead body itself, in all the appalling\nnakedness of mortality, but still mocked with the tawdry images of this\nworld, in the flowers and tinsel and gilding which surround it; the quick\nswinging motion with which it is hurried along, and with which it comes\ntrenching, when one least expects it, on all the gaieties and busy\ninterests of existence (for at this hour the Corso and the Caff\u00e9s are most\ncrowded)--all this, without any reference to the intrinsic solemnity of\nsuch a scene, is calculated, as mere stage effect, powerfully to stir up\nthe sympathies and imagination of a stranger. On the inhabitants, as might\nbe apprehended, such pageants have long since lost all their influence;\nand I have seen a line extending down a whole street, without deranging a\nsingle lounger from his seat, or interrupting for an instant the pleasures\nof ice-eating and punch-drinking, which generally takes place in the open\nair. Whether this passion for bringing into coarse contact, as is often\nthe case, both life and death, the gloomy and the gay, be constitutional\nor traditional, I know not; but a traveller can scarcely fail of being\nstruck with the prevalence of the feeling and practice amongst southern\nnations at all periods of their history, and finding in the modern\ninhabitants of those favoured regions, frequent resemblances to that\nstrange spirit of melancholy voluptuousness, which travelled onward from\nEgypt to Greece, and from Greece, together with the other refinements of\nher philosophy, into the greater part of Italy. On reaching the church,\nunless the wealth and situation of the departed can permit the consolation\nor the vanity of a high mass, the body is immediately committed to the\ntomb. Such at least is the practice at Rome; and there are few who have\nnot witnessed with disgust the indecent haste of the few attendants by\nwhom this portion of the last rites is usually despatched. In the country,\nand in smaller towns, the corpse is usually exposed for at least a day: I\nknow few exceptions, from Trent to Naples. It is generally an affecting\nceremony. One of the most touching instances of the kind I can remember,\nwas the exposure of a young girl, who had just died in the flush of beauty\nin a small village in Tuscany. I was passing through at the time, and\nstepped by chance into the church. The corpse was lying on a low bier\nbefore the altar; a small lamp burnt above. Her two younger sisters were\nkneeling at her side, and from time to time cast flowers upon her head.\nScarcely a peasant entered but immediately came up and touched the bier,\nand, after kneeling for a few moments, rose and murmured a prayer or two\nfor the spiritual rest of the departed. All this was done very naturally,\nand with a kindliness which spoke highly for the warmth and purity of their\naffections. A similar custom still continues at Rome. The day after the\nexecution of the conspirator Targioni, who suffered in the late affair of\nthe Prince Spada, flowers and chaplets, notwithstanding every precaution\non the part of the police, were found scattered on his tomb. He has been\nrefused, for his contumacy in his last moments, Christian sepulture, and\nwas buried in a field outside the Porta del Popolo. It is remarkable that,\nvery nearly in the same place, the freedmen of Nero paid a similar tribute\nof affection to the mortal remains of their master. Garlands and flowers,\nthe morning after his death, were also found upon _his_ tomb.\n\n_New Monthly Magazine._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nSLAVERY IN THE EAST.\n\n\nThe slave in eastern countries, after he is trained to serve, attains the\ncondition of a favoured domestic; his adoption of the religion of his\nmaster is usually the first step which conciliates the latter. Except at\na few seaports, he is seldom put to hard labour. In Asia these are no\nfields tilled by slaves, no manufactories in which they are doomed to\ntoil; their occupations are all of a domestic nature, and good behaviour\nis rewarded by kindness and confidence, which raises them in the community\nto which they belong. The term gholam, or slave, in Mahomedan countries,\nis not one of opprobrium, nor does it even convey the idea of a degraded\ncondition. The Georgians, Nubians, and Abyssinians, and even the Seedee,\nor Caffree, as the woolly-headed Africans are called, are usually married,\nand their children, who are termed house-born, become, in a manner, part\nof their master's family. They are deemed the most attached of his\nadherents: they often inherit a considerable portion of his wealth; and\nnot unfrequently (with the exception of the woolly-headed Caffree) lose,\nby a marriage in his family, or by some other equally respectable\nconnexion, all trace of their origin.\n\nAccording to the Mahomedan law, the state of slavery is divided into two\nconditions--the perfect and absolute, or imperfect and privileged. Those\nwho belong to the first class are, with all their property, at the disposal\nof their masters. The second, though they cannot, before emancipation,\ninherit or acquire property, have many privileges, and cannot be sold or\ntransferred. A female, who has a child to her master, belongs to the\nprivileged class; as does a slave, to whom his master has promised his\nliberty, on the payment of a certain sum, or on his death.--_Sir J.\nMalcolm's Sketches of Persia._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nThe Gatherer.\n\n\n  \"I am but a _Gatherer_ and disposer of other men's stuff.\"--_Wotton._\n\n\nLEVEES.\n\n\nSecretaries of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an army,\nhave crowds of visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises;\nwhich are but a civiller sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary\ndebts.--CONGREVE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPERVERSE PUN.\n\n\nThe other day as Kenny was dining at a friend's house, after dinner wine\nbeing introduced and Kenny partaking of it, was on the instant observed\nto cough immoderately, when one of the company inquired if the cause was\nnot owing to a bit of cork getting into the glass; to which Kenny replied,\n\"I should think it was Cork, for it went far to _Kill Kenny_.\"\n\nP.K.R.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nAUTHORS AND EDITORS.\n\n\n  \"Do you hear, let them be well used.\"\n    SHAKSPEARE.\n\n\nAccustomed as our readers are to the quips, quirks, and quibbles, of the\n_Gatherer_, we doubt whether the following loose reflections will not be\nreceived as egotistical, or out of place. But we are induced to the hazard\nby the recent appearance of \"The Tale of a Modern Genius,\" (stated to be\nby Mr. Pennie,) and an interesting paper in the last _London Magazine_,\nentitled \"Memoirs of a Young Peasant:\" in which productions the fates and\nfortunes of genius are set forth with very powerful claims to the sympathy\nof readers. Indeed, we recommend their perusal to many of our \"neglected\"\ncorrespondents, in the hope of their becoming more reconciled to the\njustice with which their contributions are rejected. In the comparison,\ntheir works will be as \"the labours of idleness,\" listlessly penned under\nfirst impressions, or, at best, with the fond anticipation of appearing in\nprint. Vexatious as the disappointment may appear, what is it compared with\nthe bare fate of genius, stripped of the bare means of sustenance by the\nunsuccessful result of a literary engagement, or the non-completion of a\npurchase, on which probably depended the very day's existence. The subject\nis trite and hacknied; but all that has been written about the illusions\nand misgivings of genius will not alter its complexion. It is true that\nsuch details have raised a spirit of sympathetic forbearance towards the\ndistresses of men of letters, except in the breasts of the most barbarous\nand vulgar. But their sufferings are doubly acute, and their perceptions\ndoubly tender. In their intercourse with mankind, they become _flattered_\nby associates, and it not unfrequently happens that men who are the most\nready to quote such ascendancy or superiority in society, are the first\nto break the charm they have created, by some act of extreme rigour. Such\nconduct is cruel and unchristian.\n\nAgain, the sufferings of men of genius are increased by their own\nreflection on them, and in addition to real woes they thus inflict on\nthemselves thousands of imaginary ones. A loss in trade may be repaired\nby the profits of the succeeding day, and all be set right, where gain\nis the sole idol; but when fame is mixed up in the pursuit, there is a\nsuffering beyond the hour, the day, or the year--mixed up in the defeat.\nHope is crushed; and after her flittering shade spring up misanthropy and\ndespair.\n\nLight and fickle as is the public taste for literature, we are disposed\nto think that, (barring the influence of great names) the chances of\nsuccess are as frequent in this as in any other field of human ingenuity;\nand we can assure the public that our repose has not always been on a bed\nof roses. But it seems to be with certain literary candidates as with\nnations: there is a certain point of fame which men seem content to reach,\nafter which, in return for the darling caresses of the world, they kick at\ntheir patrons; and if the maxim work true, that the fame of authors suffers\nby our known contact and conversation with them, Sir Walter Scott's recent\navowal is a dangerous step, unless he was tired of his fame. Of course, we\nhave not yet arrived at the above point, so that our readers need not fear\nour ingratitude; and we are willing to abide by the condition, that when we\nforget our patrons, may they forget us.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nCURE FOR ENVY.\n\n\nBishop Berkeley (that acute reasoner) contrived a lucky antidote, for the\nsuffering of envy. \"When I walk the streets,\" says he, \"I use the following\nnatural maxim, (viz. that he is the true possessor of a thing who enjoys\nit, and not he that owns it without the enjoyment of it,) to convince\nmyself that I have a property in the gay part of all the gilt chariots\nthat I meet, which I regard as amusement to delight my eyes, and the\nimagination of those kind people who sit in them gaily attired only to\nplease me;\" by which maxim he fancied himself one of the richest men in\nGreat Britain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLIMBIRD'S EDITION OF THE BRITISH NOVELIST, Publishing in Monthly Parts,\nprice 6d. each.--Each Novel will be complete in itself, and may be\npurchased separately.\n\n_The following Novels are already Published:_\n\n\n                                           s.  d.\n  Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield           0   10\n  The Mysteries of Udolpho                 3    6\n  Mackenzie's Man of Feeling               0    6\n  Rasselas                                 0    8\n  Paul and Virginia                        0    6\n  The Old English Baron                    0    8\n  The Castle of Otranto                    0    6\n  The Romance of the Forest                1    8\n  Almoran and Hamet                        0    6\n  Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia      0    6\n  Nature and Art                           0    8\n  The Italian                              2    0\n  A Simple Story                           1    4\n  The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne       0    6\n  Sicilian Romance                         1    0\n  The Man of the World                     1    0\n  Zeluco, by Dr. Moore                     2    0\n  Joseph Andrews                           1    6\n  Humphry Clinker                          1    8\n  Edward, by Dr. Moore                     2    6\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, London, and Sold by all Booksellers\nand Newsmen_.","title":"The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 284, November 24, 1827","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":12329}