The Post-Mortem Cogitations of the Lat I died on the 1st of April, 1823; and if the rea through time and through eternity. The longsought was found-the long-loved was my lover! In describing the origin and progress of his regard, Trevor admitted that his former inten-der will go to the parish-church of Smithton, asi tional avoidance of my society was the result of a prepossession which he feared to indulge, partly from a belief in the report of my engagement to Lord E-, but chiefly from an opinion that my education and habits must have rendered my character uncongenial to his. I too had my confidings to make; but though I shed blissful tears upon the bosom of my dear con fessor, when owing to my past errors and frivolity, I did not acknowledge that my affection had preceded his own, and I was many months his weeded wife before he learnt to guess how long and hopelessly he had been loved. How little do we know of each other's joys or sorrows! When, on the first Sunday after my recovery, I sat in my accustomed place in church, there was not perhaps one of my acquain to the Memory of tance who did not consider me an object of com- The integrity of his conduct and the amiability passion. They did not know the bright reversal of my doom; they could not believe that I was the happiest creature who trod the earth, nor imagine the overwhelming tenderness with which I listened to the eloquent preacher, and turned from him to look upon my wan and wasted hand, where sparkled the ring of our bethrothment as if to assure my throbbing heart that happiness so perfect was not a dream. Since then years have passed, many and full of blessings. The inheritance whose timely loss gained me my precious Stephen, has reverted to our dutious children, who know better how to use it than did their mother in her days of thoughtlessness and pride. They exemplify the good parent's blessed power to make his children virtuous as himself; and when I see them in turn, exerting a similar power, and remember that all that they or I possess of goodness, we owe to the influence of one true Christian, I am filled with a sublime sense of the value and exalted dignity of virtue. his temper endeared him to a wide circle of friends; this Monument is erected." The gentle reader may now pretty well under stand my position when alive; popularity hat always been my aim, and my wealth and situa tion in society enabled me to attain what I ardently desired. At county meetings-at the head of my own table-among the poor of the parish-I was decidely popular, and the nam of Smith was always breathed with a blessing a a commendation. My wife adored me; no wor der, therefore, that at my demise she erected: monument to my memory, and designated her self, in all the lasting durability of marble, my "inconsolable widow." I had a presentimen that I should not be long-lived, but this rather increased my thirst for popularity; and, feeling the improbability of my living very long in th sight of Mrs. Smith and my many dear friends, I was the more anxious to live in their hearts Nothing could exceed my amiability,-my life was one smile, my sayings were conciliatory, my doings benevolent, my questions endearing. my answers affirmative. I was determined that CUSTOMS.-At a Lapland funeral, a horn of snuff my will, unlike most wills, should be satisfactory goes constantly round. The mourners divert them to every body. I silently studied the wants an selves with little stories, interspersed occasionally with wishes of those around me, and endeavoured to an harmonious howl. In visiting, the guests are wel-arrange my leavings so that each legatee should comed with singing, The Laplanders venerate a black cat; talk to it as to a rational creature, and communicate their secrets to this animal. A drum is kept in every family among the Sweedish Laplanders, for the purpose of consulting with the devil. A Laplander courts by making the father of his fair one presents of brandy, and offering her something to eat, which she rejects before company, but readily accepts in pri- So far I have confined my narrative to the vate. As every visit is bought with a bottle of bran-humdrum probabilites of every-day lite; what dy, the old guzzler is careful to prolong the courtship I have now to relate may strike some of my reasome years. The bride-groom is obliged to serve his ders as less probable, but, nevertheless, it is not father-in-law for four years after marriage. The wo My Stephen's hairs are white, but his heart has known no chill. He loves, fondly as ever, the faded face that now, as in its day of bloom, still turns to him for guidance or approval, and I-eternity could not wear out my love for him! hereafter breath my name with a blessing, and talk of "that dear good fellow Smith," always a the same time having recourse to a pocket-handkerchief. I perpetually sat for my picture, and I gave my resemblance to all the dear friends who were hereafter to receive "the benefit of my dying." men weave nets, dry fish, milk the rein-deer, make one jot the less true. I was anxious not only to cheese, and tan hides. Besides hunting, fishi g, and attain a degree of popularity which should sur making canoes and sledges, the men attend to the vive my brief existence; I panted to witness kitchen, in which the women are seldom allowed to that popularity; unseen, to see the tears that interfere. The Laplanders are a happy contented people. I would be shed,-unheard, to mingle with the POST-MORTEM COGITATIONS. 537 mute mourners who would lament my death. I modes "do look at some things that are going Where is the advantage of being lamented if one | home for Miss Jones's wedding." cannot hear the lamentations? But how was The widow said nothing; and I thought it was this privilege to be attained? Alas! attained it was; but the means shall never be divulged to my readers. Never shall another Mr. Smith, self-satisfied and exulting in his popularity, be taught by me to see what I have seen, to feel what I have felt. I have perused St. Leon; I therefore knew that perpetually-renovated youth had been sought and had been bought. I had read Frankenstein, and I had seen that wonder, equally astonishing and supernatural, had been attained by mortals. I wanted to watch my own weepers, nod at my own plumes, count my own mourning coaches, and read with my own eyes the laudatory paragraph that announced my own demise in the county newspaper. I gained my point,-I did all this, and more than this; but I would not advise any universally-admired gentlemen and fondly-idolized husband to follow my example. What devilish arts I used, what spells, what conjurations, never will I reveal; suffice it is to say that I attained the objects of my desires. Two peeps was I to have at those I left behind me, one exactly a month after my demise, the second on that day ten years! And now for the result of peep the first. In some degree my thirst for posthumous popularity was certainly gratified, and I will begin with the pleasantest part of my own "post-mortem examination." My own house (or rather the house that had been mine) looked doleful enough; no mirth, no music; the servants in deep mourning, and a hatchment over the door. My own wife (or rather my relict) was a perfect picture of misery and mourning, in the extreme of the fashion. She heaved the deepest sighs, she was trimmed with the deepest crape, and wore the deepest hems that ever were seen. The depth of her * despondency was truly gratifying. Her cap was most conscientiously hideous and beneath its folds every hair upon her head lay hid. She was a moving mass of crape and bombasin. In her right hand was a pocket handkerchief, in her left a smelling-bottle, and in her eye a tear. She was closeted with a gentleman, but it was no rival-nothing to arouse one jealous pang in the bosom of a departed husband. It was, in fact, a marble masonic meeting. She was giving directions about my monument, and putting herself into the attitude of lamentation in which she wished to be represented (and is represented,) bending over my urn: she burst into a torrent of Atears, and in scarce articulate accents called for her "sainted Anthony," When she came a little to herself, she grumbled somewhat at the extravagance of the estimate, knocking off here and there some little ornamental monumental decoration, bargaining about my inscription, and cheapening my urn! with a vacant eye that she gazed apathetically at satin, blonde, and feathers as white as the driven snow. At length she cried, "I cannotcannot wear them!" and covering her face with her handkerchief, she wept more loudly than before. Happy late husband that I was-surely for me she wept! A housemaid was blubbering on the stairs, a footman singing in the hall; this is as it should be, thought I: and when I heard that a temporary reduction in the establishment was determined on, and that the weeping and sighing individuals had been just discharged, I felt the soothing conviction, that leaving their mistress tore open the wounds inflicted by the loss of their late master, and made them bleed afresh. My dog howled as I passed him, my horse ran wild in the paddock, and the clock in my own sittting-room maintained a sad and stubborn silence, wanting my hand to wind it up. Things evidently did not go on in the old routine without me, and this was nothing to my spirit. My own portrait was turned with its face to the wall: my widow having no longer the original to look at, could not endure gazing at the mute resemblance! What, after all, thought I, is the use of a portrait? When the original lives we have something better to look at; and when the original is gone, we cannot bear to look at it. Be that as it may, I did not the less appreciate my widow's sensibility. On the village green the idle boys played cricket: they mourned me not-but what of that? a boy will skip in the rear of his grandmother's funeral. The village butcher stood disconsolately at the door of his shop, and said to the village baker, who was despondingly passing by, “Dull times, these, neighbour Bonebread! dull times. Ah! we miss the good squire, and the feastings at the hall." On a dead wall I read, "Smith forever."— "Forever," thought I," is a long time to talk about." Close to it, I saw," Mitts forever," written in letters equally large, and much more fresh. He was my parliamentary successor, and his politics were the same as my own. This was cheering; my constituents had not deserted my principles-more than that I could not expect. The" SMITH," who, they said, was to be their representative" FOR EVER," was now just as dead as the wall upon which the name was chalked! Again I retired to my resting-place under the family pew in the church of Smithton, quite satisfied that, at the expiration of ten years, I should take my second peep at equally gratifying, though rather softened evidences of my popularity." TEN YEARS.-What a brief period to look back upon! What an age in perspective! How little do we dread that which is certain not She was interrupted by the entrance of a mil- to befal us for ten years! Yet how swiftly to all liner, who was ordered to prepare a black velvet of us will ten years seem to fly! What chancloak lined with ermine; and no expense was to ges, too, will ten years bring to all! Yon schoolbe spared. Alas! thought I, the widow's "inky boy of ten, with his toys and his noise, will be cloak" may well be warm; my black marble co- the lover of twenty! The man now in the prime vering will be cold comfort to her. "Just to of life, will, in ten years, see Time's snow mingamuse you, ma'am," said the marchande desling with his dark and glossy curls! And they who now are old-the kind, the cheerful, look-open, and in ran eight noisy, healthy, beautiful ing, as we say, so much younger than they really are-what will ten years bring to them? The ten years of my sepulchral slumber passed away, and the day arrived for my second and last peep at my disconsolate widow and wide circle of affectionate friends. brats. The younger ones congregated round the hostess; but the two eldest, both fine boys, ran to Mr. Mitts, at the bottom of the table, and each took possession of a knee. They both strongly resembled Mitts; and what was my astonish ment when he exclaimed, addressing my wide, "Mary, my love, may I give them some orange What could be meant by "Mary, my love! -a singular mode of addressing a deceased friend's relict! But the mystery was soon explained. Sir Marmaduke Mitts filled his glass, and after insisting that all the company shoal follow his example, he said to his son, “This is your birthday, Jack; here's your health, my boy, and may you and Mary long live happy to gether! Come, my friends, the health of Mr. and Mrs. Mitts." The monument already mentioned opened "its ponderous and marble jaws," for the last time, and invisibly I glided to the gates of my old domain. The old Doric lodge had been pulled down, and a Gothic one, all thatch and rough poles, little windows and creepers, (a sort of cottage gone mad,) had been erected in its stead. I entered, and could not find my way to my own house; the road had been turned, old trees had been felled, and new plantations made; ponds had been filled up, and lakes had been dug; my own little "Temple to Friendship" was not to be found, but a temple dedicated to the blind God had been erected in a conspicuous situation.-nours as Mrs. Mitts ! "Ah!" thought I," her love is a buried love, but not the less dear. To me-to her dear departed -to her 'sainted Anthony,'-this temple has been dedicated!" So then, after all, I had come out on an es ceeding cold day to see my widow doing the ho "When is your birthday?" said Sir Marmaduke to his daughter-in-law. "Oh!" said my widow, and Mr. Mills' wife, "We cannot always command perfection; poor dear Mr. Smith meant well, but every man cannot be a Mitts. She smiled, and nodded down the table; Mr. Mitts looked, as well he might, particularly pleased; and then the ladies left the room. "Talking of Smith," said Sir Marmaduke, "what wretched taste he had, poor man! This place was quite thrown away upon him; he had no idea of its capabilities." "In June," she replied, “but I have not been in the habit of keeping birthdays till lately: poor So entirely was the park changed that I did Mr. Smith could not bear them to be kept." not arrive at the mansion until the hour of din- "What's that about poor Smith?" said the sucner. There was a bustle at the hall door, ser-cessor to my house, my wife, and my other ap vants were assembled in gay liveries, carriages purtenances. "Do you say Smith could not were driving up and setting down, and lights bear birthdays? Very silly of him, then; but gleamed from the interior. A dinner party!-poor Smith had his oddities." no harm in that; on the contrary, I deemed it fortunate. Doubtless my widow, still in the sober grey of ameliorated mourning, had summoned round her the best and the dearest of my friends; and though their griefs were naturally somewhat mellowed by time, they remembered me in their calm but cheerful circle, and fondly breathed my name! Unseen I passed into the dining-room-all that I beheld was new to methe house had been new built on a grander scale -and the furniture was magnificent! I cast my eyes round the table, where the guests were now assembled. Oh! what bliss was mine! At the head sat my widowed wife, all smiles, all loveliness, all pink, silk and flowers-not so young as when I last beheld her, but very handsome, and considerably fatter. At the foot (oh! what a touching compliment to me!) sat one of my oldest, dearest, best of friends, Mr. Mitts, the son of a baronet who resided in my neighbourhood; his father too was there, with his antiquated lady, and the whole circle was formed of persons whom, living, I had known and loved. My friend at the bottom of the table did the honours well, (though he omitted to do what I thought he ought to have done,-drink to my memory) and the only thing that occurred to startle me before the removal of dinner, was my widow's calling him "my dear." But there was something gratifying even in that, for it must have been of me she was thinking; it was a slip of the tongue, that plainly showed the fond yearning of the widowed heart. When the dessert had been arranged on the table, she called to one of the servants, saying "John, tell Muggins to bring the children." What could she mean? who was Muggins? and what children did she wish to be brought? I never had any children! Presently the door flew "No," replied a gentleman to whom I had be queathed a legacy" with the best intentions in the world, Smith was really a very odd man.” "His house," added another, who used to dine with me three times a week," was never theroughly agreeable;-it was not his fault, poor fellow !" "No, no," said a very old friend of mine, at the same time taking snuff from a gold box which had been my gift," he did every thing for the best; but, between ourselves, Smith eas a bore." "It is well," said Mr. Mitts, "that talking of him has not the effect which is attributed to talking of another invisible personage! Let him rest in peace: for if it were possible that he could be reanimated, his reappearance here to claim his goods and chattels, and above all, his wife, would be attended with rather awkward consequences." So much for my posthumous curiosity! Vain mortal that I was, to suppose that after a dreamless sleep of ten long years, I could return to the land of the living, and find the place and the hearts that I once filled, still unoccupied! In the very handsome frame of my own picture, was now placed a portrait of John Mitts, Esq.; mine was thrown aside in an old lumber room, SORROW-EXTRAT-MILTON'S TOMB. 539 A. where the sportive children had recently disco- | rewards to enjoy, and hopes to indulge on earth. vered it, and with their mimic swords had inno- If these do not glitter in the gloom of present afcently poked out the eyes of what they were fliction, imagination may present, beyond the pleased to denominate," the dirty picture of the dark curtain of mortality, an image at which ugly man." My presumption has been properly the mourner might look and forget to weep. rewarded: let no one who is called to his last account, wish, like me, to be permitted to revisit the earth. If such a visit were granted, and like me he returned invisibly, all that he would see and hear would wound his spirit: but were he permitted to reappear visible, in propria persona, mortifying, indeed would be his welcome! It is not my intention to bequeath to my reader a lecture, or a sermon, ere I return to my frmily vault: yet" THE POST MORTEM COGITATIONS OF THE LATE POPULAR MR. SMITH" are not without T. H. B. A MORAL. Written for the Casket. SORROW. Sorrow is the genuine effusion of nature. Joy may be assumed, smiles may be on the lips and sweet music on the tongue-yet have no acquaintance with the heart. But who will copy the expression of grief, wear the mask of a dreadful foe, or affect the pangs that remind us of the insecurity of happiness. Education may refine, may renew or efface original impressions, and silence or soothe some of the strongest emotions; but acute distress is the torrent that art cannot suppress, the voice that will be heard, whether in cries aloud, in excess of anguish, or of the pains of memory in solitude. When nature speaks in the powerful language of affliction, and tells of the delicate, strong, deep, enduring feeling, scathed into sorrow, and suddenly broken, few will turn away and refuse to condole with the sufferer. Levity is serious and respectful, the rude courteous and compassionate towards real sorrino-for it indicates the most amiable traits of human character. Tears from such a source leave no stain on the cheek of manhood, or on the pale face of woman, but claim our admiration no less than our sympathies. EXTRACT ORIGINAL. From "The Spirit of Life,”- The just man dies not, though within the tomb Yes! while the mourner stands beside the bier, From the London Monthly Magazine. Extracted from General Murray's Diary-Unpublished. Poor human nature! how frequently art thou sported with, in the very halls of thine inheritance! Descended from a God, yet often the jest of shadows, the victim of petty realities! The puncture of a pin, the sting of the vile insect that lives only a few hours, can destroy the life of lordly man, who, though formed in the likeness of his Creator, is as much the slave of insignificant circumstances as the reptile that crawls at his feet. Let us not, however, complain-for God is just! Rather let us consider 24th Aug. 1790.—I dined yesterday at Sir Gilthat the present condition of our being is neces-bert's. As soon as the cloth was removed, Mr. sary to prepare us for the Paradise that will ultimately ensue. To smile when our feelings are wounded, to spurn the little evils of life, and endure what is unavoidable with firmness, denotes a strong and well-regulated mind. To assert our principles in the presence of life and of death, and look calmly and quietly on the supporter and executioner, sustains the hope that the soul can never die. A virtuous and enlightened mind cannot be the permanent abode of sorrow; it has aids to bear on, besides the condolence of friends. There are duties to perform, Thornton gave the company an account of the violation of Milton's tomb, a circumstance which created in our minds a feeling of horror and disgust. He had been one of the visiters to the hallowed spot, and obtained his information from a person who had been a witness to the whole sacrilegious transaction. He related the event nearly in the following manner:-The church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, being in a somewhat dilapidated state, the parish resolved to commence repairing it, and this was deemed a favourable opportunity to raise a subscription for the purpose of erecting a monument to the washed, as strong as the hair of a living being. memory of our immortal bard Milton, who, it was The short locks growing towards the forehead. known, had been buried in this church. The and the long ones flowing from the same place parish register book bore the following entry: down the sides of the face, it became obvious 12 November, 1674. John Milton, gentleman, that these were most certainly the remains of consurapcon, chancell." Mr. Ascough, whose Milton. The quarto print of the poet, by Faigrandfather died in 1759, aged 84, had often been thorne, taken from life in 1670, four years before heard to say, that Milton was buried under the he died, represents him as wearing his hair exdesk in the chancel. Messrs. Strong, Cole, and actly in the above manner. Fountain said be other parishioners, determined to search for the was determined to have two of the teeth; but as remains, and orders were given to the workmen they resisted the pressure of his fingers, he struck on the 1st of this month to dig for the coffin. the jaw with a paving stone, and several teeth then On the 3rd, in the afternoon, it was discovered; fell out. There were only five in the upper jaw, the soil in which it had been deposited was of a and these were taken by Fountain; the four that calcareous nature, and it rested upon another were in the lower jaw were seized upon by Taycoffin, which there can be no doubt was that of lor, Hawkesworth, and the sexton's man. The Milton's father, report having stated that the hair, which had been carefully combed and tied poet was buried at his request near the remains together before interment, was forcibly pulled of his parent; and the same register-book con- off the skull by Taylor and another; but Ellis, tained the entry, "John Milton, gentleman, 15 the player, who had now joined the party, toid March, 1646." No other coffin being found in the former, that being a good hair-worker, if he the chancel, which was entirely dug over, there would let him have it he would pay a guinea can be no uncertainty as to their indentity. bowl of punch, adding, that such a relic would Messrs. Strong and Cole having carefully cleans-be of great service by bringing his name ed the coffin with a brush and wet sponge, they into notice. Ellis, therefore, became possessed ascertained that the exterior wooden case, in of all the hair; he likewise took a part of the which the leaden one had been enclosed, was shroud and a bit of the skin of the skull; indeed! entirely mouldered away and the leaden coffin he was only prevented carrying off the head by contained no inscription or date. At the period the sextons, Hoppy and Grant, who said they when Milton died it was customary to paint the intended to exibit the remains, which was aftername, age, &c. of the deceased on the wooden wards done, each person paying sixpence to covering, no plates or inscriptions being then in view the body. These fellows, I am told, gained use; but all had long since crumbled into dust. nearly one hundred pounds by the exhibition. The leaden coffin was much corroded; its length Laming put one of the leg-bones in his pocket. was five feet ten inches, and its width in the My informant assured me, continued Mr. Thornbroadest part one foot four inches. The above ton, that while the work of profanation was progentlemen, satisfied as to the indentity of the ceeding, the gibes and jokes of these vulgar felprecious remains, and having drawn up a state- lows made his heart sick, and he retreated from ment to that effect, gave orders on Tuesday, the the scene, feeling as if he had witnessed the re3rd, to the workmen to fill up the grave; but past of a vampire. Viscount C., who sat near me, they neglected to do so, intending to perform said to Sir G. "This reminds me of the words of that labour on the Saturday following. On the one of the fathers of the church, And little boys next day, the 4th, a party of parishioners, Messrs. have played with the bones of great kings!'" Cole, Laming, Taylor, and Holmes, having met to dine at the residence of Mr. Fountain, the overseer, the discovery of Milton's remains became the subject of conversation, and it was agreed upon that they should disinter the body, and examine it more minutely. At eight o'clock at night, heated with drink, and accompanied by a man named Hawkeswork, who carried a flambeau, they sallied forth, and proceeded to the church The sacriligeous work now commences. The coffin is dragged from its gloomy resting place: Holmes made use of a mallet and chisel, and cut open the coffin slant-ways from the head to the breast. The lead being doubled up, the corpse became visible: it was enveloped in a thick white shroud; the ribs were standing up regularly, but the instant the shroud was removed they fell. The features of the countenance could not be traced; but the hair was in an astonishingly perfect state: its colour a light brown; its length six inches and a half, and although somewhat clotted, it appeared, after having been well The Boy and the SNAKE.-A boy played with 1 tame snake. "My dear little animal," said the boy, 'I would not be so familiar with you if I did not know you were deprived of poison. You snakes are a malicious, ungrateful race! I have heard, on the best authority, how a poor countryman found one, perhaps, of your ancestors, half frozen under a hedge, compas bosom. Hardly did the snake feel the warmth, before sionately took it up, and placed it in his warming he bit his benefactor, and the good, friendly man was compelled to die." "I am astonished," replied the snake. "How part your historian must be! Our own give an entirely different account. This friendly man believed tha the snake was really frozen, and as it happened to be one of the coloured kind, he wished to strip off its skin and carry it home. Was that right?" "Ah, be silent!" said the boy. "Who that is ur. grateful does not know how to make excuses?" Right, "my son," interrupted the father, who had heard this conversation. "But at the same time wher you hear of an extraordinary instance of ingratitude. examine all the circumstances faithfully, before you brand a man with so black a crime. True benefac tors have seldom laid the unthankful under obligation; indeed, I hope, for the honour of humanity, neve: But benefactors, whose aims are small and selfishsuch, my son, are always met with ingratitude." |