The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 285, December 1, 1827

On my returning to a belief of the truths of Christianity, I have been very much assisted by the pious exhortations of the ordinary, as well as by the book he has put into my hands; and I feel a comfort which I am unable to express by this his charitable and benevolent attention to me. I believe there is no passion more prevalent in the human breast than the wish that our memory should be held in remembrance. I shudder at the thought lest my name should be branded with infamy, when I lie mouldering in the dust, as I know well that the tongue of malice is ever loud against the failings of the unfortunate. When, however, my character is insulted, and my poor reputation attacked, extenuate, I beseech you, the enormity of my crime, by relating the hardships of my sufferings. Tell to the giddy and affluent, that, strangers to the severity of want, they know not the pain of withstanding the almost irresistible calls of nature. The poor will, I trust, commiserate my misfortunes, and shed a sympathetic tear at the mournful tale of my miserable fate. I can say no more. Heaven have mercy on us all!

Adieu for ever. J. LEE.

PARTING FOR THE POLE

He.—Now weep not Poll because I go,There's no need, I declare,For when among the Esquimaux,I've too much blubber there.Women mis-doubt a sailor's word,We don't deserve the wipe;For when they pipe us all aboard,Aboard we all do pipe.We've rocks, when all our tears are past,The sailor's heart to shock,She..—Why yes, Jack—when you're on the mast,You're sure to have a rock.He.—You'll find some fellow on dry ground,You will prefer to me,To him I see you will be bound,While I'm bound to the sea.But if I sail the world around,I'll be a faithful rover,She.—Poh! you'll forget me I'll be boundWhen you are half seas over.He.—And when alas, your Jack is gone,You'll think of naught but jigging,And you will sport your rigging on,While Jack is on the rigging.Where winter's ice around us grows,And storms upon us roll,She.—Ah, that's the time I do supposeThey look out for the pole.He.—But if I should be sunk d'ye see,She.—Bring up a coral wreath,He.—Why if I were beneath the sea,I could not see beneath.She.—Yet if you should be cast away,Without a cloak, or victual,Remember me, a little, pray,You'd better pray a little.But tho' you wish us now to splice,Our hands—your love won't hold,For when you get among the ice,I'm sure you will grow cold.I have your money—here's a kiss,I will be true to you,But one word more, "adieu" it is,Cries Jack, it is a do.MAY.

BARDS, OR POETS OF THE ANCIENT BRITONS

(For the Mirror.)Hail! to the Bards, who sweetly sungThe praises of dead peersIn lofty strains, thus to prolongTheir fame for many years.LUCAN.

This sect appears to have descended from Bardus, son of Druis, king of Britain; he was much esteemed by the people for inventing songs and music, in praise of meritorious actions; and established an order, in which such of the people were admitted as excelled in his art, distinguishing them by the name of bards, after his own name. Julius Caesar reports, that on his arrival he found some of them. Their business was to record the noble exploits of their warriors in songs and ditties, which they sung to their instruments at the solemn feasts of their chiefs; and in such high estimation were they held, that, when two armies were ready to engage, if a bard stept in between them, both sides delayed the attack till he was out of danger.

As these bards were neither repugnant to the Roman authority nor the Christian religion, they alone, above all other sects, were suffered to continue long after the birth of Christ; and it is said that some of them are still to be found in the isle of Bardsey, (so named from them). Wisbech. T.C.

THE SCOTTISH PEASANT'S LAMENT

BY THE AUTHOR OF AHAB(For the Mirror.)Oh! had I my home by the side of the glen,In a spot far remote from the dwellings of men,Wi' my ain bonnie Jeannie to sit by my side,I'd nae envy auld Reekie her splendor and pride.The song of the mavis should wake me at morn,And the grey breasted lintie reply from the thorn;While the clear brook should run in the sun's yellow beam,And my days glide as calmly along as its stream.But here, in the city's dull streets, I must live,Nae Jeannie her arms for my pillow to give;Nae mavis, nae lintie, to sing from the tree,Nae streamlet to murmur its music to me.O better, by far, had I never been born,Or my head laid in rest in the glen 'neath the thorn;Since the songs of my birds I no longer can hear,Nor in slumber recline by the side of my dear.Now, all that makes life still endured, is the dream,That comes o'er my soul, of the bird and the stream;And the love of my Jean—when that vision shall close,In the silence of death let my ashes repose.Yet then, even then, my sad spirit will be,By the side of the brook, 'neath the shade of the tree;In the arms of my Jeannie, for ne'er can it stay,From those who in life had endeared it away.

Nov. 25. 1827. S.P.J.

ON A SQUINTING POETESS

To no one muse does she her glance confine,But has an eye at once, to all the nine!

MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS

No. XVI.

FISHING IN THE RIVER YEOU

The fishery of the Yeou, in Bornou, is a very considerable source of commerce to the inhabitants of its banks; and the manner of fishing (as represented in the above engraving) is ingenious though simple. The Bornouese make very good nets of a twine spun from a perennial plant called kalimboa: the implements for fishing are two large gourds nicely balanced, and fixed on a large stem of bamboo, at the extreme ends; the fisherman launches this on the river, and places himself astride between the two gourds, and thus he floats with the stream, and throws his net. He has also floats of cane, and weights, of small leathern bags of sand: he beats up against the stream, paddling with his hands and feet, previous to his drawing the net, which, as it rises from the water, he lays before him as he sits; and with a sort of mace, which he carries for the purpose, the fish are stunned by a single blow. His drag, finished, the fish are taken out, and thrown into the gourds, which are open at the top, to receive the produce of his labour. These wells being filled, he steers for the shore, unloads, and again returns to the sport.—Denhani's Travels in Africa.

ARABIAN HORSES

Sir John Malcolm, in his Sketches of Persia, gives the following interesting anecdotes of these noble creatures:—

Hyder, the elchee's master of the chase, was the person who imparted knowledge to me on all subjects relating to Arabian horses. He would descant by the hour on the qualities of a colt that was yet untried, but which, he concluded, must possess all the perfections of its sire and dam, with whose histories, and that of their progenitors, he was well acquainted. Hyder had shares in five or six famous brood mares; and he told me a mare was sometimes divided amongst ten or twelve Arabs, which accounted for the groups of half-naked fellows whom I saw watching, with anxiety, the progress made by their managing partner in a bargain for one of the produce. They often displayed, on these occasions, no small violence of temper; and I have more than once observed a party leading off their ragged colt in a perfect fury, at the blood of Daghee or Shumehtee, or some renowned sire or grandsire, being depreciated by an inadequate offer, from an ignorant Indian or European.

The Arabs place still more value on their mares than on their horses; but even the latter are sometimes esteemed beyond all price. When the envoy, returning from his former mission, was encamped near Bagdad, an Arab rode a bright bay horse of extraordinary shape and beauty, before his tent, till he attracted his notice. On being asked if he would sell him—"What will you give me?" said he. "It depends upon his age; I suppose he is past five?" "Guess again," was the reply. "Four." "Look at his mouth," said the Arab, with a smile. On examination he was found rising three; this, from his size and perfect symmetry, greatly enhanced his value. The envoy said, "I will give you fifty tomans3." "A little more, if you please," said the fellow, apparently entertained. "Eighty!—a hundred!" He shook his head, and smiled. The offer came at last to two hundred tomans! "Well," said the Arab, seemingly quite satisfied, "you need not tempt me any farther—it is of no use; you are a fine elchee; you have fine horses, camels, and mules, and I am told you have loads of silver and gold: now," added he, "you want my colt, but you shall not have him for all you have got." So saying, he rode off to the desert, whence he had come, and where he, no doubt, amused his brethren with an account of what had passed between him and the European envoy.

PARIS

Paris is, as it were, abandoned to foreign travellers in September and October. It is not till the first symptoms of cold are felt somewhat severely, that life in the capital is resumed in all its tumult. The Paris season is the reverse of that of London. It commences at the end of November, and closes at the beginning of May. The period of your hunting is that of our drawing-room parties. Previous to November, Paris may be compared to a vast lazaretto, where the valetudinarians of every country take refuge.—Monthly Magazine

MUSICIAN OF MANDARA

The above engraving represents one of the musicians of the Sultan of Mandara; blowing a long pipe not unlike a clarionet, ornamented with shells. These artists, with two immense trumpets from twelve to fourteen feet long, borne by men on horseback, made of pieces of hollow wood with a brass mouth-piece, usually precede the sovereign on any important visit. The costume and attitude of the musician are highly characteristic of savage mirth.

The chiefs in this part of Africa are also attended by a band carrying drums, and singing extempore songs, a translation of one of which is subjoined from "Denham's Travels," whence the engraving is copied.

Christian man he come,Friend of us and Sheikhobe;White man, when he hear my song,Fine new tobe give me.Christian man all white,And dollars white have he;Kanourie, like him, come,Black man's friend to be.From Felatah, how he run;Barca Gana shake his spear:White man carry two-mouthed gun;That's what make Felatah fear.

HUNTING IN PERSIA

In Persia, persons of the highest rank lead their own greyhounds in a long silken leash, which passes through the collar, and is ready to slip the moment the huntsman chooses. The well-trained dog goes alongside the horse, and keeps clear of him when at full speed, and in all kinds of country. When a herd of antelopes is seen, a consultation is held, and the most experienced determine the point towards which they are to be driven. The field (as an English sportsman would term it) then disperse, and while some drive the herd in the desired direction, those with the dogs take their post on the same line, at the distance of about a mile from each other; one of the worst dogs is then slipped at the herd, and from the moment he singles out an antelope the whole body are in motion. The object of the horsemen who have greyhounds is to intercept its course, and to slip fresh dogs, in succession, at the fatigued animal. In rare instances the second dog kills. It is generally the third or fourth; and even these, when the deer is strong, and the ground favourable, often fail. This sport, which is very exhilarating, was the delight of the late King of Persia, Aga Mahomed Khan, whose taste is inherited by the present sovereign.—Sketches of Persia.

PIOUS WATCHMEN IN NORWAY

In Drontheim, the ancient capital of Norway, it appears, that the guardians of the night not only watch, but pray for the souls of the inhabitants. Mr. Brooke, in his recent travels, says, "as each hour elapses, they are prepared with a different kind of exhortation or prayer; which, forming a sort of tune or chant, is sung by them during the drear hours of the night." Of one of these pious songs, he gives the following literal translation:

"Ho! the Watchman, ho!The clock has struck ten,Praised be God, our Lord!Now it is time to go to bed.The housewife and her maid,The master as well as his lad.The wind is south-east.Hallelujah! praised be God, our Lord!"

"The voekter, or watchman, is armed with an instrument as remarkable as his cry, being nothing less than a long pole, at the end of which is a ball, well fortified with iron spikes. This weapon is called morgen stierne, or the morning star. At Drontheim, however, bands of pick-pockets and thieves are unknown, and the morning star does little more than grace the hand of the Norwegian watchman."

As the axe of reform is just laid to the watching system of London, we may profit by the example of our Northern brethren; for it appears, they not only watch over the temporal, but spiritual concerns of their citizens, and it should seem, with salutary effect: but the vespers and matins, of a watchman in England, would meet with many unholy interruptions.

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

LONDON CLUB-HOUSES

Club-houses are by no means a new invention; and yet the improvements upon the old plan, which was itself an improvement upon the former coffee-house, is sufficiently interesting, and sufficiently unknown to the people in general, to render some account of their advantages not superfluous. The modern club is a tavern and newsroom, where the members are both guests and landlord. The capital is derived from a sum paid by each member on entrance, and the general annual expenses, such as house-rent, servants, &c. are defrayed by an annual subscription. The society elects a committee for its execution and government, and meets at stated intervals for legislative measures. The committee appoint a steward to manage its affairs, and a secretary to keep the accounts, to take minutes of the proceedings of meetings, and transact the business of correspondence. The domestic servants are placed under the immediate direction of the steward; but above all in the choice of a cook, the discretion of the committee is most especially exerted. A house being thus established where the society is at home, the rooms are thrown open for their various accommodation. In the apartments destined for eating, members may breakfast, lunch, dine, and sup, as they list; a bill of fare of great variety is prepared; and the gourmand has nothing more to do than to study its contents, and write the names of the dishes he desires on a bill prepared for the purpose; to mention whether he orders dinner for himself alone, or in company with others; and at what time he chooses to dine, whether immediately, or at some subsequent hour. At the close of his dinner this bill or demand is presented to him with the prices annexed, and prompt payment is the law.

Wine is bottled in quarts, pints, and even half-pints, and may be had at some institutions even in glasses: it is not needless to observe, moreover, that there is no necessity either of fashion or regulation to drink it at all. At an inn, a bottle of wine must be ordered for the "good of the house," that the waiter may not despise you and be surly: that, in short, the guest may be tolerably accommodated in other matters; although, perhaps, the wine itself (wretched stuff generally at inns) is his abhorrence—though he may never drink any thing but water, and may send the decanter away untouched—the tax must be paid. Besides this entertainment for the grosser senses, the more refined appetites are considered. In some clubs, the "Travellers" for instance, a library is provided; and at most of them, even the most unintellectual, a library of reference is supplied. Here all the periodicals of the day are laid upon the tables—both those of Great Britain and of the continent, together with the newspapers, metropolitan and provincial, and in some instances the political journals of Paris. This part of the house may be considered the general resort of the gossippers and quidnuncs; and here, or in other more commodious places, materials for writing, paper, pens, lights, &c. are found. Drawing-rooms, one or more, are next to be mentioned—here the members take their tea or their ease; and where cards are played, this is the scene of operation. A billiard-room is an agreeable addition to the accommodation of the society's house, and several of the inferior apartments are always devoted to serve as dressing-rooms. It is clear, that a bachelor wants nothing beyond this but a bed; if he chooses to live in this sort of public privacy he may; and should he be only a sojourner in town, the convenience of a resort of this kind wherein he may make his appointments, receive and write his letters, see society, take his dinner, spend his evening, if not otherwise engaged, over the books, the newspapers, or a rubber of whist, and do all but sleep—a bed in the neighbourhood may supply the article of repose.—Thus all physical wants, and many social ones, are abundantly, and even luxuriously supplied.—London Magazine.

[While upon "clubs," we may as well advert to the prospectus of "The Literary Club," which has reached us since our last. It professes to be "associated for the assistance of men of letters, the development of talent, and the furtherance of the interests of literature." It not only aims at charitable provision for the weaknesses and infirmities of nature, but anticipates "harmony and friendship" among literary men, and "as little as possible on any system of exclusion." This is as it should be; but we fear the workings and conflicts of passion and interest are still too strong to admit of such harmony among the sons of genius. Authorship is becoming, if not already become, too much of a trade or craft to admit of such a pacificatory scheme: but the object of the association is one of the highest importance to literature, and we heartily wish it success.—ED. MIRROR.]

ENGLISH AND FRENCH

Why are the English so fond of clubs, corporate bodies, joint-stock companies, and large associations of all kinds?—Because they are the most unsociable set of people in the world; for being mostly at variance with each other, they are glad to get any one else to join and be on their side; having no spontaneous attraction, they are forced to fasten themselves into the machine of society; and each holds out in his individual shyness and reserve, till he is carried away by the crowd, and borne with a violent, but welcome, shock against some other mass of aggregate prejudice or self-interest. The English join together to get rid of their sharp points and sense of uncomfortable peculiarity. Hence their clubs, their mobs, their sects, their parties, their spirit of co-operation, and previous understanding in every thing. An English mob is a collection of violent and headstrong humours, acting with double force from each man's natural self-will, and the sense of opposition to others; and the same may be said of the nation at large. The French unite and separate more easily; and therefore do not collect into such formidable masses, and act with such unity and tenacity of purpose. It is the same with their ideas, which easily join together, and easily part company, but do not form large or striking masses; and hence the French are full of wit and fancy, but without imagination or principle. The French are governed by fashion, the English by cabal. London Weekly Review.

PROTESTANT BURIAL-GROUND AT ROME

The Cemeterio degli Inglesi, or the Protestant burial-ground, stretches calmly and beautifully below the Pyramid of Cestius. The site was admirably chosen,—nothing can be more poetically and religiously sepulchral than this most attractive spot. It is worth a thousand churches. No one can stand long there without feeling in full descent upon his spirit the very best influences of the grave. The rich, red, ruinous battlements of the city, broken only by the calm and solid unity of the Pyramid; the clustering foliage beginning to brown on the ancient towers of the entrance; the deep, still, blue sky; the fluttering leaves of the vines which floated around, as one by one they dropped from the branches; the freshness of the green mounds at my feet,—these and a thousand other features, fully felt at the time, but untranslateable to writing, conveyed precisely that philosophy of Death which the poet and sculptor have more than once attempted to breathe over their most enchanting works, and which here seems an emanation from every object which you feel or see. I would place in this spot their Genius of Repose, that beautiful statue which joins its hands indolently on its head, and casts its melancholy eyes for ever towards the earth; that statue, so beautiful that it has been often confounded with the Grecian Eros, or the Celestial Love, and is, in itself, the best type of the messenger who is one day to lead us gently from the heat and toils of this world, into the coolness and tranquillity of the next. Every thing here is in unison with these thoughts. At a few paces distant from the Pyramid, and adjoining the wall, the Cippi and funeral Soroi of the Strangers are to be seen. The bright verdure and the bright marbles, the classical purity of the monuments, the desert air, the austere solemnity of every thing about me, came with new force upon my imagination. I walked slowly amongst the tombs, and tried to decipher the inscriptions. The dead are of various nations,—English, American, but principally German. Sometimes a cluster of cypresses shadowed the tomb—sometimes a fair flowering shrub had twined around it. The epitaphs were written with elegance always; at times with the deepest tenderness and beauty. Each had his short history, each his melancholy interest and adventure. Here was the man of science and literature, who came to lay down his head, after a painful and varied pilgrimage, in this City of the Soul. A Humboldt was buried here; a Thorwalsden yet may. Here reposes clay too finely tempered for the unkindnesses of mankind—Keats lies near;—a little farther is one who, on the point of quitting Rome to rejoin an affectionate family after a too long absence, full of the anticipations of the traveller and of youth, is thrown from his carriage at a mile's distance from the city, and never quits Rome more;—beside him is an only child, whom the sun of Italy could not save;—and next, one who perished suddenly, like Miss Bathurst, in the very bud and bloom of existence,—or another, who died away, day after day, in the embraces of her parents, and now rests in the midst of the beautiful in vain. The graceful lines of Petrarch are inscribed on the sarcophagus—they are full of feeling and the country, and make one pause and dream:—

"Non come fiamma, che per forza è spenta,Ma che per se medesma si consuma,Se n'andò in pace, l'anima contenta."

No epitaph could be better. New Monthly Magazine.

QUACKS

Have nearly the same interest as knaves in concealing their ignorance and frauds, and for the most part regard with the same fear and detestation the instrument which unmasks their pretensions. This must be understood with some qualification, because the exposure of ignorance and fraud is not always sufficient to open the eyes, and enlighten the understandings, of mankind. Some perverse dupes are not to be reasoned out of their infatuation; they had rather hug the impostor, than confess the cheat; and quacks, speculating upon this infirmity of human nature, will sometimes court even an infamous notoriety.—Lancet.

ANECDOTES OF THE MARVELLOUS

Charming away the Hooping Cough.

An English lady, the wife of an officer, accompanied her husband to Dublin not very long ago, when his regiment was ordered to that station. She engaged an Irish girl as nurse-maid in her family; and, a short time after her arrival, was astonished by an urgent request from this damsel, to permit her to charm little miss from ever having the hooping-cough, (then prevailing in Dublin). The lady inquired how this charming business was performed; and not long after had, in walking through the streets, many times the pleasure of witnessing the process, which is simply this:—An ass is brought before the door of a house, into whose mouth a piece of bread is introduced; and the child being passed three times over and under the animal's body, the charm is completed; and of its efficacy in preventing the spread of a very distressing, and sometimes fatal disorder, the lower class of Irish are certain.