country. I communicated this to Elizabeth, and entreated that we might make the journey of life together. She consented, and our mutual happiness was soon as great as our individual misery had been, when fate first brought us together. Poetry. (English Magazines, September and October, 1821.) $0 teazing is the girl I love, So cruel-kind I find her, LOVE IN A MIST. I would to Heaven she would prove Her lips forbid my hopes to rise; Her eyes say yes, her lips say no; To her is such attraction given, "Tis my belief, when women use Haply with neither love nor hate, So it may be her thoughtless wish, I fain would get the length of her foot, She has hung me up 'twixt hell and heaven, It does not my free spirit suit, Just like Mahomet's coffin. To be the shoeing-horn to't. The night came on, and the feast rose high, Like the dew of a summer's morning: But when the hour of midnight came, His heart from Adela still would stray, To Loda, the Countess of Retzenvel, The tale of his passion did Lindorf tell, Day follow'd day most heavily, And Adela sank in sorrow; Still fondly hop'd that her tears would dry High was the feast, and many a guest And oft would he wildly gaze, as if round And shudder as if in its arms he was wound, The midnight came once more :-and the gate But none did appear to the liveried state Till Lindorf cried-" By the Heavens above I command thee disclose thy face." And a voice replied, "Then behold me, love ! "Tis midnight, and we'll embrace!" Then Adela stood unto each one's view With grave-clothes white cast o'er her; Her features look'd of a pallid hue, And Lindorf fell down before her ! She raised him, and kiss'd his life away, Then sank through the earth with her lover's clay Stephensiana, No. X. (Monthly Magazine.) The late ALEXANDER STEPHENS, Esq. of Park House, Chelsea, devoted an active and well-spent life in the collection of Anecdotes of his contemporaries, and generally entered in a book the collections of the passing day ;-these collections we have purchased, and propose to present a selection from them to our readers. As Editor of the Annual Obituary, and many other biographical works, he may probably have incorporated many of these scraps; but the greater part are unpublished, and all stand alone as cabinet pictures of men and manners, worthy of a place in a literary miscellany. FREDERIC, PRINCE OF WALES. FREDERICK, Prince of Wales, father of his late Majesty, was a man of very elegant manners, but Walpole exhibits him in a point of view peculiarly unfavourable. He was particularly addicted to reading French memoirs, and had written those of his own time, under the name of "Prince Titi." The MS. was found among the papers of Ralph the Historian, and presented by the late Dr. Rose, his executor, to the first Earl of Bute, who without bestowing any remuneration or acknowledgment, conveyed them to his son, George the third. Prince Frederick also composed several French songs, in imitation of the Regent Duke of Orleans, a model no way worthy of imitation. Here follows the first stanza of a Bacchanalian relic : "Chanson, par Frederic Prince de Galles. "Venez mes cheres desses Venez calmer mon chagrin ; * Poussons cette douce ivresse Vite à table je me mets," &c. An article has been devoted to his Royal Highness, in Park's edition of "Lord Orford's Royal and Noble Authors ;" and Warton has represented him in a way still more likely to confer immortality-as the friend and patron of men of genius: 'For to the few, with sparks ethereal stor'd, He never barr'd his castle's genial gate, But bade sweet Thomson share the friendly board: LINES written on a DYING ASH. By the late COUNTESS OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE. Dear friendly Ash! who long hast stood Best lov'd, of all the tufted wood, Companion of unsocial care! No more your verdant charms you wear. Ah! must thou perish, beauteous tree! Emblem of life's uncertainty! Oft on thy bark, with sylvan pen, The lover grav'd his am'rous thought : Oft from the gay resort of men And pensive oft, to seek thy shade, Thy spreading boughs affliction sought; Perchance the falling Poet stray'd. But now-or parch'd by sultry suns, Or some rude blast's pernicious breath, How fast thy vital moisture runs And wets the sadden'd turf beneath; Adown the mountain's craggy side. Thy former health may still renew: And wash thy wounds with tears of dew; Not so thy lot, frail man! may be ;· Returning Spring ne'er blooms for thee. MR. GIBBON. When Mr. Fox's library was sold in 1781, the first volume of the "Decline and Fall" was brought to the hammer. It brought three guineas, in consequence of the contention produced by the following MS. note in the wellknown hand of "the man of the people:"-" The Author at Brooks's said that there was no salvation for this country, until SIX heads of the principal persons in administration were LAID UPON THE TABLE." Yet eleven days afterwards, this same gentleman accepted a place under those very ministers, and acted with them ever afterwards. SIR FRANCIS BURDETT. Sir Francis Burdett was led to Cold Bath Fields by a letter written upon the leaf of a book, with a splinter of wood, in the blood of the miserable captives who supplicated him to save them from the pangs of death, produced by hunger and thirst. On visiting the unhappy creatures, he found them "merely frames of men, their minds apparently as much impaired as their bodies." They were Englishmen, in an English prison, and without a trial. Written by ADML. LORD NELSON to LADY HAMILTON. Sooner shall Britain's sons resign Than Henry shall renounce his faith, Ere thy true Henry's constant love DR. JOHNSON. sight, by firing batches of china, both at Chelsea and Derby, to which the manufacture was afterwards carried. Chelsea china, originally patronized by the Duke of Cumberland, and afterwards by Sir R. Faulkner, was a long time in such repute as to be sold by auction, and as a set was purchased as soon as baked, dealers were surrounding the doors for that purpose. EARL OF MOUNT EDGECOMBE. The late Lord Edgecombe had a favourite pig, who is said to have followed him for miles, and even to have snuffed him in the wind, so as readily to anticipate his arrival. This wonderful animal at last became the subject of an ode, of which it may not be amiss. to quote a few stanzas: Ye muses, quit your sacred stream, And aid me like the bards of yore, Slight Milton, for like his my theme In verse was never sung before : Indeed the tale is often told in prose Since all the world the mighty wonder knows! Theme of sublimity! my boar, All hail! thou beast of high renown, As famous as the horse of yore, That won his lucky lord a crown. Fam'd as Miss Lesbia's bird, in verse so oft Recorded, or the rabbits of Mell Toft! Hail pig! at Tunbridge born and bred, Who singlest out his Lordship there, Event that round the region spread, And made the gaping millions stare: And strange it was to see, upon my word, A pig for ever trotting with my lord. Thrice happy hog! with Mrs. Joan,* I was told by the foreman of the Chelsea China Manufactory, (then in the workhouse of St. Luke's, Middlesex) that Dr. Johnson had conceived a notion that he was capable of improving on the manufacture of china. He even applied to the directors of the Chelsea China Works, and was allowed to bake his compositions in their ovens in st., Chelsea. He was accordingly accustomed to go down with his housekeeper about twice a week, and staid the whole day, she carrying a basket of provisions along with her. The Doctor who was not allowed to enter the mixing room, had access to every other part of the house, and formed his composition in a particular apartment, without being overlooked by any one. He had also free access to the oven, and superintended the whole of the process: but completely failed, both as to composition and baking, for his materials always With nine fat aldermen and Mr. Mayor. yielded to the intensity of the heat, while those of the company came out of the furnace perfect and complete. The Doctor retired in disgust, but not in despair, for he afterwards gave a dissertation on this very subject in his works; but the overseer, who has read this, assured me in the spring of 1814, that he was still ignorant of the nature of the operation. He seemed to think that the Dr. imagined one single substance was sufficient, while he on the other hand asserts that he always used sixteen, and he must have had some practice, as he has nearly lost his eye Who, in a chariot, cheek by jole, Did'st Jehu-like, from Tunbridge Town To Mount's enchanting mansions roll; Where to thy levee thousands did repair, The mayor a ldermen polite, hout fee or purchase, thoft it right, If so his lords Thank ye, replied his lordship; but odds- Tho' asses sit, 'tis never granted pigs. GEN. CHARLES LEE. The late Dr. Huck, who, I believe, was surgeon in the same regiment, was accustomed to tell, that the celebrated General Lee, having been crossed and jostled by the Scotch, many of whom were put over his head, was accustomed My lady's waiting-woman. to teach a kind of catechism, to certain young English officers. Accordingly, after dinner at the mess, he would ask: Which is the best country for the Scotch ? Ans. England. How do they rise? Ans. By wooing, cringing, and fawning. What are their merits? Ans. Servile obedience and complaisance,&c.&c. Being one day asked to dine with a Scotch Major, he accepted the invitation, but at the same time apologized for a peculiarity he had, "which was that of abusing his countrymen when a little fuddled!" "I excuse you with all my heart," rejoined the wily Caledonian, " for I myself have a similar ill propensity, that is, on all such occasions, to beat those who abuse my country !" Both parties met at table, and there was neither abuse nor kicking. 66 Original Letter of JAMES THOMSON, the Poet, to Mr. Paterson, found among his papers in the cabinet of Sir Andrew Mitchel, and transmitted by Sir William Forbes of Craigie Var and Finhay, bart. to the Earl of Buchan, October 8, 1791, and by him presented to Mr. Stephens.* DEAR PATERSON, In the first place, and previous to my letter, I must recommend to your favour and protection, Mr.James Smith, searcher in St. Christopher's; and I beg of you, as occasion shall serve, and you find he merits it, to advance him in the customs. He is warmly recommended to me by Sargent, who in verity turns out one of the best men of our youthful acquaintance, nest, honourable, friendly, and gen S. If we are not to oblige one anothe life becomes a paltry, selfish_affair, pitiful morsel in a corner. Sargent is so happily married, that I could almost say, the same case happen to us all. That I have not answered several letters of yours, is not owing to the want of friendship, and the sincerest regard for you; but you know me well enough to account for my silence, without my saying any more upon that head; be* This letter appears to have been writfen in the beginning of April, 1748. 2A ATHENEUM VOL. 10. sides, I have very little to say, that is worthy to be transmitted over the great ocean. The world either futilizes so much, or we grow so dead to it, that its transactions make but feeble impressions on us. Retirement and nature are more and more my passion every day. And now, even now, the charming time comes on: Heaven is just upon the point, or rather in the very act, of giving earth a green gown. The voice of the nightingale is heard in our lane. You must know, that I have enlarged my rural domain, much to the same dimensions you have done yours. The two fields next to me, from the first of which I have walled-no, no,— paled in, about as much as my garden consisted of before; so that the walk runs around the hedge, where you may figure me walking any time of the day, and sometimes under night. For you, I imagine you reclining under cedars, and palmettoes; and there enjoying more magnificent slumbers than are known to the pale climates of the north; slumbers rendered awful and divine by the solemn stillness and deep fervours of the torrid moon! At other times I image you drinking punch in groves of limes or orange trees, gathering pineapples from hedges as commonly as we may blackberries, poetizing under lofty laurels, or making love under fullspread myrtles. But to lower my style a little-As I am such a genuine lover of gardening, why don't you remember me in that instance,and send me some seeds of things that might succeed here during the summer, though they cannot perfect their seeds sufficiently, in this, to them, ungenial climate, to propagate. In the which case is calliloo; that, produced from the seed it bore here, came up puny, ricketty, and good for nothing. There are other things certainly with you not yet brought over hither, that might flourish here in the summer-time, and live tolerably well, provided they be sheltered in an hospitable stove or green-house during the winter. You will give me no small pleasure by sending me from time to time some of these seeds, if it were no more but to amuse me in making the trial. With regard |