To the Memory of Miss Emily Kay, (cousin to Miss Ellen Gee, of Kew,) who lately died at Ewell, and was buried in Essex.
D.T. Fabula narratur.
Sad nymphs of UL, U have much to cry for,
Sweet MLE K U never more shall C!
O SX maids! come hither and VU,
With tearful I this M T LEG.
Without XS she did XL alway—
Ah me! it truly vexes 1 2 C
How soon so DR a creature may DK,
And only leave behind XUVE!
Whate'er I O to do she did discharge,
So that an NME it might NDR:
Then Y an SA write? then why N?
Or with my briny tears her BR BDU?
When her Piano-40 she did press,
Such heavenly sounds did MN8, that she,
Knowing her Q, soon I U 2 confess
Her XLNC in an XTC.
Her hair was soft as silk, not YRE,
It gave no Q nor yet 2 P to view:
She was not handsome: shall I tell U Y?
U R 2 know her I was all SQ.
L8 she was, and prattling like AJ.
O, little MLE! did you 4 C
The grave should soon MUU, cold as clay.
And U should cease to B an NTT!
While taking T at Q with LN G,
The MT grate she rose to put a(:)
Her clothes caught fire—I ne'er again shall C
Poor MLE, who now is dead as Solon.
O, LN G! in vain you set at 0
GR and reproach for suffering her 2 B
Thus sacrificed: to JL U should be brought
And burnt U 0 2 B in FEG.
Sweet MLE K into SX they bore,
Taking good care her monument to Y 10,
And as her tomb was much 2 low B 4,
They lately brought fresh bricks the walls to I 10.
New Monthly Mag.
A "Cabinet Cyclopaedia" is announced for publication, under the superintendance of Dr. Lardner. It is to consist of a series of "Cabinets" of the several sciences, &c. and upwards of 100 volumes, to be published monthly, are already announced in the prospectus; or nine years publishing. The design is not altogether new, it being from the Encyclopaedie Methodique, a series of dictionaries, now publishing in Paris; and about four years since a similar work was commenced in England, but only three volumes or dictionaries of the series were published. If this be the flimsy age, the "Cabinet Cyclopaedia" is certainly not one of the flimsiest of its projects; and for the credit of the age, we wish the undertaking all success.
Is a term very vaguely applied, and indistinctly understood. There are Gentlemen by birth, Gentlemen by education, Gentlemen's Gentlemen, Gentlemen of the Press, Gentlemen Pensioners, Gentlemen, whom nobody thinks it worth while to call otherwise; Honourable Gentlemen, Walking Gentlemen of strolling companies, Light-fingered Gentlemen, &c. &c. very respectable Gentlemen, and God Almighty's Gentlemen.—Blackwood's Magazine.
There are five theatres at Rome to a population very nearly as considerable as that of Dublin. Each of these establishments is the property of one of the noble families in the city, who prefer doing by themselves what is usually done in England by committee.
Animals of the cat kind are, in a state of nature almost continually in action both by night and by day. They either walk, creep, or advance rapidly by prodigious bounds; but they seldom run, owing, it is believed, to the extreme flexibility of their limbs and vertebral column, which cannot preserve the rigidity necessary to that species of movement. Their sense of sight, especially during twilight, is acute; their hearing very perfect, and their perception of smell less so than in the dog tribe. Their most obtuse sense is that of taste; the lingual nerve in the lion, according to Des Moulins, being no larger than that of a middle-sized dog. In fact, the tongue of these animals is as much an organ of mastication as of taste; its sharp and horny points, inclined backwards, being used for tearing away the softer parts of the animal substances on which they prey. The perception of touch is said to reside very delicately in the small bulbs at the base of the mustachios.—Wilson's Zoology.
From Blackwood's last "Noctes."
North. As you love me, my dear James, call it not tea, but tay. That though obsolete, is the classical pronunciation. Thus Pope sings in the Rape of the Lock, canto i.
"Soft yielding minds to water glide away,
And sip with nymphs their elemental tea."
And also in canto iii—
"Where thou great Anna, whom these realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes tea."
And finally in the Basset Table—
"Tell, tell your grief, attentive will I stay,
Though time is precious, and I want some tea."
Shepherd. A body might think frae thae rhymes, that Pop had been an Eerishman.
The people of England, we fear, have at last forfeited the proud title of "merry," to distinguish them from other and less happy, because more serious, nations; for now they sadden at amusement, and sicken and turn pale at a jest; so entirely have they forfeited it, that an ingenious critic cannot believe they ever possessed it; and has set himself accordingly to prove, that, in the old English, merrie does not mean merry, but sorrowful, or heart-broken, or some such thing.—Edin. Rev.
There is a tear, more sweet and soft
Than beauty's smiling lip of love;
By angel's eyes first wept and oft
On earth by eyes like those above:
It flows for virtue in distress.
It soothes, like hope, our sufferings here;
'Twas given, and it is shed, to bless—
'Tis sympathy's celestial tear.
Amulet.
Was one day descanting upon the advantages of a public education for boys, when he concluded by saying, "And what think you of Eton? I think I shall send my son there to learn manners." "It would have been as well, my dear," responded his wife, "had you gone there too."
For several years previous to 1823, the crops in Ireland had been scanty, particularly those of potatoes. In 1821 the potato crop was a complete failure; and in 1822 it is impossible to tell, and dreadful to think, of what might have been the consequence, had not the English people come forward, and by the most stupendous act of national generosity which the world ever saw, and which none but a country so rich as England could afford, arrested "the plague of hunger," which must otherwise have desolated the country.
The revival of this beautiful art is strongly recommended by a writer in the Edinburgh Review, for the internal decoration of private residences. "As we have begun to build houses upon a handsome scale in London, the lovers of art may venture to hope, that instead of spending enormous sums solely on the upholsterer for his fading ornaments, something may now be spared to the artist, for conferring on the walls unfading decorations of a far more delightful and intellectual kind. If the work be well executed, it will not suffer injury from being washed with clean and cold water." The reviewer then goes on to suggest "small foundations, like the fellowships at our universities. The fellow, a young artist of promise, might spend two or three years in painting the interior of a church, or other public building, maintaining himself meanwhile on his fellowship, or two or three hundred pounds a year." "If, however, the objections to painting our churches be deemed insuperable, we have buildings designed for civil purposes in abundance, which are well adapted for this species of decoration." He then instances Westminster Hall, the walls of which might be covered with fresco; and the outsides of houses in many German cities and towns in the German cantons of Switzerland, the outsides of which are painted with scriptural and historical subjects. "Painting," observes he, "were the use of it universal, would be a powerful means of instruction to children and the lower orders; and were all the fine surfaces, which are now plain and absolutely wasted, enriched with the labours of the art, if they once began to appear, they would accumulate rapidly; and were the ornamented edifices open to all, as freely as they ought to be, a wide field of new and agreeable study would offer itself."
Hast thou power? the weak defend,
Light?—give light: thy knowledge lend.
Rich?—remember Him who gave.
Free?—be brother to the slave.
Amulet.
O what curses, not loud, but deep, has not old Simpkin, of the Crown and Anchor, in his day, and Willis and Kay in later times, groaned at the knot of authors who were occupying one of his best dining-rooms up-stairs, and leaving the Port, and claret, and Madeira to a death-like repose in the cellar, though the waiter had repeatedly popped his head into the apartment with an admonitory "Did you ring, gentlemen?" to awaken them to a becoming sense of the social duties of man.—New Monthly Mag.
The Indians on the banks of the Oronoko assert, that previously to an alligator going in search of prey, it always swallows a large stone, that it may acquire additional weight to aid it in diving and dragging its victims under water. A traveller being somewhat incredulous on this point, Bolivar, to convince him, shot several with his rifle, and in all of them were found stones, varying in weight according to the size of the animal. The largest killed was about 17 feet in length, and had within him a stone weighing about 60 or 70 pounds.
Miss Mitford, in one of her charming sketches, tells us of a cricket-ball being thrown five hundred yards. This is what the people who write for Drury-lane and Covent-garden would call "pitching it pretty strong."
When Goldsmith boasted of having seen a splendid copy of his poems in the cabinet of some great lord, saying emphatically, "This is fame, Dr. Johnson," the doctor told him that, for his part, he would have been more disposed to self-gratulation had he discovered any of the progeny of his mind thumbed and tattered in the cabin of a peasant.—Q. Rev.
I recollect my happy home,
My pleasures as a child;
The forest where I used to roam,
The rocks so bleak and wild.
That home is tenantless; the spot
It graced is rude and bare;
The lov'd ones gone, our name forgot.
And desolation there.
Forget Me Not—1829.
In how many thousand hearts will this lament find an echo!
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
A canon of the cathedral of Seville, who was very affected in his dress, and particular in his shoes, could not in the whole city find a workman to his liking. An unfortunate shoemaker to whom he applied, after quitting many others, having brought him a pair of shoes which did not please his taste, the canon became furious, and seizing one of the tools of the shoemaker, gave him with it so many blows on the head, that the poor shoemaker fell dead on the floor. The unhappy man left a widow, four daughters, and a son fourteen years of age, the eldest of the indigent family. They made their complaints to the chapter; the canon was prosecuted, and condemned not to appear in the choir for a year.
The young shoemaker, having attained to man's estate, was scarcely able to get a livelihood; and overwhelmed with wretchedness, sat down on the day of a procession at the door of the cathedral of Seville, in the moment the procession passed by. Among the other canons he perceived the murderer of his father. At the sight of this man, filial affection, rage, and despair got so far the better of his reason, that he fell furiously on the priest, and stabbed him to the heart. The young man was seized, convicted of the crime, and immediately condemned to be quartered alive. Peter, whom we call the cruel, and whom the Spaniards, with more reason, call the lover of justice, was then at Seville. The affair came to his knowledge, and after learning the particulars, he determined to be himself the judge of the young shoemaker. When he proceeded to give judgment, he first annulled the sentence just pronounced by the clergy; and after asking the young man what profession he was, "I forbid you," said he, "to make shoes for a year to come."
When Demetrius conquered the city of Magara, and every thing had been plundered by his soldiers, he ordered the philosopher Stilpon to be called before him, and asked him whether he had not lost his property in this confusion? "No," replied Stilpon, "as all I possess is in my head."
A country gentleman, much averse to city revelry, made the following couplet:
Music hath charms to sooth the savage beast,
And therefore proper at a city feast.
A city gentleman, who had laid up a store of wealth, replied:—
The chink of gold with gold, transporting sound!
Exceeds the Timbrel, or the Syren's voice
Harmonious, when collective plates go round,
And Hock and Turtle make the heart rejoice.
An inveterate sportsman, hearing early his favourite cry of beagles from the wood, exclaimed:—
Hark, friend, what heavenly music meets the ear;
Haste, farmer, we shall lose it all, I fear.
The rustic, who dreads hounds over his new-sown wheat, replies:—
Music! I cannot hear it for the noise
Of those curs'd dogs, loud shouts, and bellowing boys.
Antigonus, being in his tent, heard two soldiers, who were standing outside, speak very disrespectfully of him. After he had listened some time, he opened the tent and said to them, "If you wish to speak thus of me, you might at least go a little aside."—Sulzer.
A supplementary number of the Mirror, containing the "Spirit of the Annuals," with a fine engraving, will be published with our Number on Saturday, November 15."
Purchasers of the Mirror, who may wish to complete their sets are informed, that every volume is complete in itself, and may be purchased separately. The whole of the numbers are now in print, and can be procured by giving an order to any Bookseller or Newsvender.
Complete sets Vol I. to XI. in boards, price £2. 19s. 6d. half bound, £3. 17s.
Cheap and popular works published at the Mirror office in the Strand, near Somerset House.
The ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. Embellished with nearly
150 Engravings. Price 6s. 6d. boards.
The TALES of the GENII. Price 2s.
The MICROCOSM. By the Right Hon. G. Canning. &c. Price
2s.
PLUTARCH'S LIVES, with Fifty Portraits, 2 vols. price 13s.
boards.
COWPER'S POEMS, with 12 Engravings, price 3s. 6d.
boards.
COOK'S VOYAGES, 2 vols. price 8s. boards.
The CABINET of CURIOSITIES: or, WONDERS of the WORLD
DISPLAYED. Price 5s. boards.
BEAUTIES of SCOTT. 2 vols. price 7s.
The ARCANA of SCIENCE for 1828. Price 4s. 6d.
Any of the above Works can be purchased in Parts.
GOLDSMITH'S ESSAYS. Price 8d.
DR. FRANKLIN'S ESSAYS. Price 1s. 2d.
BACON'S ESSAYS. Price 8d.
SALMAGUNDI. Price 1s. 8d.
Footnote 1: (return)Dr. Burney says he was "equal in science, if not in genius, to the best musicians of his age."
Footnote 2: (return)Born in his father's house, at the Spread Eagle in Bread-street, Cheapside, December 9, 1608.
Footnote 4: (return)From this custom probably originated that in England, of widows concealing their hair for a stated period after the death of their husbands. Indeed, we know of more than one instance of a widow closely cutting off her hair. But these sorrowful observances are becoming less and less frequent.—ED.</>
Printed and Published by J. Limbird, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) London; sold by Ernest Fleischer, 626, NewMarket, Leipsic; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers.