Imágenes de páginas

Which, onward hurling, makes the circling groupe
Quick start aside, to shun its reckless force.
But more and still more skilful arms succeed,
And near and nearer still around the tee,
This side, now that, approaches; till at last,
Two, seeming equidistant, straws, or twigs,
Decide as umpires 'tween contending coits.

Keen, keener still, as life itself were staked,
Kindles the friendly strife: one points the line
To him who, poising, aims and aims again;
Another runs and sweeps where nothing lies.
Success alternately, from side to side.
Changes; and quick the hours un-noted fly,
Till light begins to fail, and deep below,
The player, as he stoops to lift his coit,
Sees, half incredulous, the rising moon.
But now the final, the decisive spell
Begins; near and more near the sounding stones,
Some winding in, some bearing straight along,
Crowd justling all around the mark, while one,
Just slightly touching, victory depends
Upon the final aim: long swings the stone.
Then with full force, careering furious on,
Rattling it strikes aside both friend and foe,
Maintains its course, and takes the victor's place.
The social meal succeeds, and social glass;

In words the fight renewed is fought again,'

While festive mirth forgets the winged hours.—
Some quit betimes the scene, and find that home
Is still the place where genuine pleasure dwells.


the mode of waking him in proper style.

Naturalists' Calendar. "Recollect," says he, "to put three canMean Temperature ... 36' 85. dies at the head of the bed, after you lay

me out, and two at the foot, and one at

each side. Mind now, and put a plate

3(3nUarp 31. with the salt onitjust a top of my breast.

And, do you hear! have plenty of tobacco

King Georpe IV. proclaimed.—Holiday and pipes enough; and remember to make

at the Exchequer. the punch strong. And—but what the

devil is the use of talking to you? sure I

"<"*>• know you'll be sure to botch it, as I won't

A newspaper of this day,* in the year be there myself."

1821, relates the following anecdote :— ——

All through Ireland the ceremonial of Mr. John Bull, an artist, with poetiwakes and funerals is most punctually at- cal powers exemplified in the first vntended to, and it requires some tcavoir lume* by a citation from his poem entifairt to carry through the arrangement in tied " The Museum," which deserves to be a masterly manner. A great adept at the better known, favours the Every-Day business, who had been the prime ma- Book with the following original lines, nager at all the wakes in the neighbour- The conflict between the cross and the hood for many years, was at last called crescent, renders the communication peaway from the death-beds of his friends culiarly interesting to those who indulge to his own. Shortly before he died he » hope that the struggle will terminate in s^ve minute directions to his people as to the liberation of Greece from " worse than Egyptian bondage."

* New Tiinn. • p. am


By Mr. John Butt.

Arch of peace' the firmament

Hath not a form more fair Than thine, thus beautifully bent

Upon the lighten'd air.

Well might the wondrous bards of yore

Of thee so sweetly sing;
Thy fair foot on their lovely shore

Returning with the spring!

An angel's form to thee they gave,

Celestial feign'd thy birth, Saw thee now span the light green wive,

And now the greener earth.

Yet then, where'er thy smile was seen

On land, or billowy main. Thou seem'd to watch, with look serene.

O'er Freedom's glorious reign.

Thy brilliant arch, around the sky.

The nurse ol hope appear'd, Sweet as the light of liberty,

Wherewith their souls were cheer'd!

But ah! if thou, when Greece was young,

Didst visit realms above;
Oo and return, as minstrels sung

A messenger of love:

What tale, in heaven, hast thou to tell.

Of tyrants and their slaves— Despots, and soul-bound men that dwell

Without their fathers' graves!

Ob 1 when they see thy beauteous bow.

Surround their ancient skies,
Do not the Grecian warriors know,

Tis then their hour to rise?

Let them unsheath the daring sword.

And, pointing up to thee,
Speak to their men one fiery word.

And march to set them free

Upon thine arch of hope they'd glance,
And say, "The storm is o'er!

"The clouds are breaking off—advance, "We will be slaves no more!"

The "Mirror of the Months" rcpreents of the coming month, that—

"Now the Christmas holidays are jver, and all the snow in Russia could not make the first Monday in this month look any other than black, in the home-loving eyes of little schoolboys; and the streets of London are once more evacuated of happy wondering faces, that look any way but straight before them; and sobs are beard, and sorrowful faces seen to issue from sundry post-chaises that carry sixteen inside, exclusive of cakes and boxes;

and theatres are no longer conscious at unconscious eclats de rire, but the whole audience is like Mr. Wordsworth's cloud "which moveth altogether, if it move at all."

In the gardens of our habitations, ana the immense tracts that provide great cities with the products of the earth, the cultivator seizes the first opportunity to prepare and dress the bosom of our common mother. "Hard frosts, if they come at all, are followed by sudden thaws; and now, therefore, if ever, the mysterious old song of our school days stands a chance of being verified, which sings of 'Three children sliding on the ice. All on a summer's day!' Now the labour of the husbandman recommences; and it is pleasant to watch (fiom your library-window) the ploughteam moving almost imperceptibly along, upon the distant upland that the bare trees have disclosed to you.—Nature is as busy as ever, if not openly and obviously, secretly, and in the hearts of her sweet subjects the flowers; stirring them up to that rich rivalry of beauty which is to greet the first footsteps of spring, and teaching them to prepare themselves for her advent, as young maidens prepare, months beforehand, for the marriage festival of some dear friend.—If the flowers think and feel (and he who dares to say that they do not is either a fool or a philosopher—let him choose between the imputations'.)—if the flowers think and feel, what a commotion must be working within their silent hearts, when the pinions of winter begin to grow, and indicate that he is at least meditating his flight Then do they, too, begin to meditate on May-day, and think on the delight with which they shall once more breathe the fresh air, when they have leave to escape from their subterranean prisons; for now, towards the latter end of this month, they are all of them at least awake from their winter slumbers, and most are busily working at their gay toilets, and weaving their fantastic robes, and shaping their trim forms, and distilling their rich essences, and, in short, getting ready in all things, that they may be duly prepared to join the bright procession of beauty that is to greet and glorify the annual coming on of their sovereign lady, the spring. It is true none of all this can be seen. But what a race should we be, if wo kne*« and

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When, in the zodiac, the Fish wheel round,

They loose the floods, and irrigate the ground.

Then, husbandmen icsume their wonted toil.

Yoke their strong steers, and plough the yielding toil:

Then prudent gard'ners seize the happy time,

To dig and trench, and prune for shoots to climb,

Inspect their borders, mark the silent birth

Of plants, successive, from the teeming earth,

Watch the young nurslings with paternal care,

And hope for "growing weather all the year.

Yet February's suns uncertain shine,

tor rain and frost alternately combine

To stop the plough, with sudden wintry storms—*

And, often, fearful violence the month deform*,

jfebruarp l.

Flowert A good garden in a sunny day, at the commencement of this month, has many delightful appearances to a lover of nature, and issues promises of further gratification. It is, however, in ball-rooms and theatres that many of the sex, to whose innocence and beauty the lily is likened, resort for amusement, and see or wear the mimic forms of floral loveliness. Yet this approach to nature, though at an awful distance, is to be hailed as an impulse of her own powerful working in the very heart of fashion; and it has this advantage, that it supplies means of existence to industry, and urges ingenuity to further endeavour. Artificial wants are rapidly supplied by the necessity of providing for real ones; and the wealthy accept drafts upon conditions which

indigence prescribes, till it becomes lifted above poverty to independence

The manufacture of artificial flowers is not wholly unknown in England, but our neighbours, the French, eclipse us in the accuracy and variety of their imitations. Watering-places abound with these wonders of their work-people, and in the metropolis there are depots, from whence dress-makers and milliners are supplied by wholesale.

The annexed literal copy of a French flower-maker's card, circulated during the summer of 1822 among the London shopkeepers, is a whimsical specimen of self-sufficiency, and may save some learners of French from an overweening confidence in their acquisition of that language, which, were it displayed in Paris, would be as whimsical in that metropolis as this English is in ours.


Manufacturer! from Paris,

To London 14 Broad street , Oxford street.
i Acquaint the Trade in general, that they have just established in Loudon.

I A Warhouse for FRENCH FLOWERS , for each Season , fealhar from I ) hat ladies of their own Manufacture elegant fans of the NEWEST TASTE. I

j And of Manufactures of Paris , complette sets ornaments for balls, snuff 1 ) boxes scale gold and silver, boxes toilette , ribbons and embroidered , hat | ) et cap, from Ladies of the newest Taste, China , all sorts , etc.

He commit generally the articles from Paris , Manufacturers.

And send in all BRITISH CITY.

Atlandance from Nine o'clock in the Morning till five in the Afternc


.Mean Temperature . . .39 • 70.

Jftbruarp 2.

Purification, or Candlemas. 1826.—Holiday at the Public Offices. This day, the festival of " the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary," is sometimes called Christ'* Presentation, the Holiday of St Simeon, and The Wives' Feast. An account of its origin and celebration is in vol. i. p. 199. A beautiful composition in honour of the Virgin is added as a grace to these columns. Portuguese Hymn.


By John Leyden.
Star of the wide and pathless sea,
Who lov'st on mariners to shine,
These votive garments wet to thee,
We hang within thy holy shrine.
When o'er us flushed the surging brine,
Amid the warring waters tost.

We called no other name but thine,
And hoped, when other hope was lost,

Ave Maris Stella I
Star of the vast and howling main,

When dark and lone is all the sky,
**nd mountain-waves o'er ocean's plain
Erect their stormy heads on high;
When virgins for their true loves sigh,
And raise their weeping eyes to thee,
The star of Ocean heeds their cry.
And saves the foundering bark at sea.

Ave Maris Stella!
Star of the dark and stormy sea,

When wrecking tempests round us rave,
Thy gentle virgin form we see
Bright rising o'er the hoary wave.
The howling storms that seem to crave
Their victims, sink in music sweet,
The surging seas recede to pave
The path beneath thy glistening feet,

Ave Maris Stella! Star of me desert waters wild,

Who pitying hears the seaman's cry, The God of mercy, as a child,

On that chaste bosom loves to lie;

While soft the chorus of the sky

Their hymns of tender mercy sing,

And angel voice., name on high

The mother of the heavenly king,

Ave Maris Stella!
Star of the deep! at that blest name

The waves sleep silent round the keel,
The tempests wild their fury tame

That made the deep's foundations reel:
The soft celestial accents steal
So soothing through the realms of woe,

• • • * •

• • » • ■

An- Ma, is Si. l'.i!

Star of the mild and placid seas,

Whom rainbow rays of mercy crown,

Whose name thy faithful Portuguese
O'er all that to the depths go down.
With hymus of grateful transport own ,

When gathering clouds obscure their light,
And heaven assumes an awful frown,

The star of Ocean glitters bright,
Ave Maris Stella I

Star of the deep! when angel lyres

To hymn thy holy name essay. In vain a mortal harp aspires

To mingle in the mighty lay!

Mother of God! one living ray
Of hope our grateful bosoms fires

VVhen storms and tempests pass away
To join the bright immortal quires.
Ave Maris Stella!

On Candlemas-day, 1734, there was a grand entertainment for the judges, sergeants, &c. in the Temple-hall. The lord chancellor, the earl of Macclesfield, the bishop of Bangor, together with other distinguished persons, were present, and the prince of Wales attended incog. At night the comedy of " Love for Love" was acted by the company of his Majesty's revels from the Haymarket theatre, who received a present of 50/. from the societies of the Temple. The judges, according to an ancient custom, danced "round the coal fire," singing an old French song.*

A Fable for Cold Weather.
A coal was hid beneath the grate,
(Tis often modest merit's fate,)

'Twa? *m,,"> an(I 8°. perhaps, forgotten; Whilst in the room, and near in size, lr a fine casket lined with cotton, Ir, pomp and state, a diamond lies. "So, little gentleman in black," The brilliant spark in anger cried, "I hear, in philosophic clack, Our families are close allied;

But know, the splendour of my hue,
Excell'd by nothing in existence,

Should teach such little folks as you
To keep a more respectful distance."
At these reflections on his name,
The coal soon redden'd to a flame;
Of his own real use aware,
He only answer'd with a sneer—
"I scorn your taunts, good bishop Bias*.

And envy not your charms divine \
Por know, I boast a double praise,
As I can warm as well as shine."

* Gentleman's Masasinu.

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