with plaster figures for sale. "In my time," one of these "images" (it usually occupied a corner of the board) was a "Polly" A lengthened mass became by colourable show," a dog"-like ingenuity might have tortured it into a devil. The feline race were of two shapes and in three sizes; the middle one-like physic in a bottle," when taken, to be well shaken," moved its chalk head, to the wonder and delight of all urchins, until they informed themselves of its "springs of action," at the price of " only a penny," and, by breaking it, discovered that the nodding knob achieved its un-cat-like motion, by being hung with a piece of wire to the interior of its hollow body. The lesser cat was not so very small, considering its price-" a farthing:"-I speak of when battered button tops represented that plentiful "coin of the realm." there was the largest Then A Parrot. This representative of the most popular" of "all the winged inhabitants of air," might have been taken for the likeness of some species between an owl and the booby-bird; but then the wings and back were coloured with a lively green, and the under part had yellow streaks, and the beak was of a red colour, and any colour did for the eyes, if they were larger than they ought to have been. "In my time" too, there was an "image" of a "fine bow pot," consisting of half a dozen green shapes like halbert tops for "make believe" leaves, spreading like a half opened fan, from a knot " that was not," inasmuch as it was delicately concealed by a tawny coloured ball called an orange, which pretended to rest on a clumsy clump of yellowed plaster as on the mouth of a jar-the whole looking as unlike a nosegay in water as possible. Then, too, there was a sort of obelisk with irregular projections and curves; the top, being smaller than the bottom, was marked out with paint into a sort of face, and, by the device of divers colours, it was bonnetted, armed, waisted, and petticoated-this was called a "fine lady." Cat. The present representation favours the image too much. Neither this engraving, nor that of the "parrot," is sufficiently like the artist says he "could not draw it bad enough:" what an abominable deficiency is the want of "an eye"-heigho! Then there were so many things, that were not likenesses of any thing of which they were " images," and so many years and cares have rolled over my head and heart, that I have not recollection or time enough for their description. They are all gone, or going-" going out" or "gone out" for ever! Personal remembrance is the frail and only memorial of the existence of some of these "ornaments" of the humble abodes of former times. 66 The masterpieces on the board of the "image-man,' were "a pair," at that time matchless." They linger yet, at the extreme corners of a few mantlepieces, with probably a sampler" between, and, over that, a couple of feathers from Juno's bird, gracefully adjusted into a St. Andrew's cross-their two gorgeous eyes giving out "beautiful colours," to the beautiful eyes of innocent children. The images," spoken of as still in being, are of the colossal height of eighteen inches, more or less: they personate the "human form divine," and were designed, perhaps, by Hayman, but their moulds are so worn that the casts are unfeatured, and they barely retain their bodily semblance. They are always painted black, ave that a scroll on each, which depends rom a kind of altar, is left white. One of the inscriptions says, "Into the heaven of heavens I have pre sumed, &c." and all, except the owners, admire the presumption. The "effigy" looks as if the man had been up the chimney, and, instead of having "drawn empyrean air," had taken a glass too much of Hodges's "Imperial," and wrapped himself in the soot-bag to conceal his indulgence and his person-this is "Milton." The other, in like sables, points to his inscription, beginning, "The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, &c." through the operation of time. "Such were the forms that o'er th' incrusted souls Of our forefathers scatter'd fond delight.” Price, and Alison, and Knight, have generalized "taste" for high-life; while those of the larger circle have acquired "taste" from manifold representations and vehicles of instruction, and comprebend the outlines, if they do not take in the details of natural objects. This is manifested by the almost universal disuse of the "images " described. With the inhabitants of every district in the metropolis, agreeable forms are now absolute requisites, and the demand has induced their supply. There are, perhaps, as many casts from the Medicean Venus, Apollo Belvidere, Antinous, the Gladiator, and other beauties of ancient sculpture, within the parish of St. George, in the East, as in the parish of St. George, Hanover-square. They are reposited over the fire-places, or on the tables, of neighbourbarbarous parrot were, even "in my time," hoods, wherein the uncouth cat, and the desirable" images." The moulds of the greater number of these deformities, are probably destroyed. It was with difficulty that the " cat could be obtained for the preceding column, and an "image" of the "parrot" was not procurable from an image-man." Invention has been resorted to for the gratification of popular desire: two plaster casts of children, published in the autumn of 1825, have met with unparalleled sale. To record the period of their origin they are represented in the annexed engraving, and, perhaps, they may be so perpetuated 66 is an "insubstantial pageant" of "the when the casts themselves shall have disimmortal Shakspeare,' appeared, in favour of others more ele "cheated of feature by dissembling nature," gant. The "common people" have become uncommon; Picking up, sometimes, good things from their betters, As they have done from them. Then they have books; And all this must, and all this ought to be- 316 Street Images in 1826. Height of each 16 inches and a half. When these agreeable figures first appeared, the price obtained for them was four shillings. As the sale slackened they were sold for three shillings; now, in March, 1826, the pair may be bought for two shillings, or eighteen pence. The consequence of this cheapness is, that there is scarcely a house without them. scarcely trust the human voice can itself to relate; which art never can represent, and the pen can only feebly describe. Such a scene occurred at Lyons, in the year 1794. The place of confinement to which those were hurried,who had been condemned to suffer by the revolutionary tribunal, was called "the Cave of Death." A boy not fifteen years of age was sent thither. He had been one of the foremost in a sortie made during the siege, and for this was doomed to perish. His little brother, scarcely six years old, who had been accustomed to visit him at his former prison, no longer finding him there, came and called at the iron grate of the vault. His brother heard him, and came to the grate: the poor infant passed his little hands between There are things in nature which the vast bars to embrace him, while the There can be no doubt that society As I is improving in every direction. hinted before, we have a great deal to learn, and something to unlearn. It is in many respects untrue, that " art improves nature;" while in many important respects it is certain, that "nature improves art." The Brothers. elder raising himself on the points of his feet could just reach to kiss them. “My dear brother," said the child, “art thou going to die, and shall I see thee no more? why didn't you tell them that you are not yet fifteen?"-"I did, brother, I said all that I could say, but they would hear nothing. Carry a kiss to my mother, and try to comfort her; nothing grieves me but that I leave her ill; but don't tell her yet, that I am going to die." The child was drowned in tears, his little heart seemed ready to burst :--" Goodby, brother," he repeated again and again; "but I'm afraid you didn't say that you are not yet fifteen."-He was at length so suffocated with sobs that he could speak no more, and went away. Every one who passed by, seeing his distress, asked him what was the matter. ""Tis the wicked men that make me cry," said he; "they are going to kill my brother who is so good, and who is not yet fifteen." With any being of a human form, I would not share a roof, nor sit, nor stand, Nor converse hold, by word, or look, or pen. Well, Reader! thou hast read-hast thou no tears? And weep'st not-go! I dare not, will not, know thee March 7. The Season. The earth has now several productions for our gratification, if we stoop to gather and examine them. Young botanists should commence their inquiries before the season pours in its abundance. They who are admirers of natural beauties, may daily discover objects of delightful regard in the little peeping plants which escape the eye, unless their first appearance is narrowly looked for. The Primrose. Welcome, pale Primrose! starting up between How much thy presence beautifies the ground: Plucking the fairest with a rude delight: To gaze a moment on the pleasing sight; It is remarked by the lady of the "Flora Domestica," that "this little flower, in itself so fair, shows yet fairer from the early season of its appearance; peeping forth even from the retreating snows of winter: it forms a happy shade of union between the delicate snowdrop and the flaming crocus, which also venture forth in the very dawn of spring." The elegant authoress observes further: "There are many varieties of the prim Clare. rose, so called, (the polyanthus and auricular, though bearing other names, are likewise varieties,) but the most common are the sulphur-coloured and the lilac. The lilac primrose does not equal the other in beauty: we do not often find it wild; it is chiefly known to us as a garden-flower. It is indeed the sulphurcoloured primrose which we particularly understand by that name: it is the primrose it is this which we associate with the cowslips and the meadows: it is this which shines like an earth-star from the grass by the brook side, li hting the hand to pluck it. We do indeed give the name of primrose to the lilac flower, but we do this in courtesy: we feel that it is not the primrose of our youth; not the primrose with which we have played at bo-peep in the woods; not the irresistible primrose which has so often lured our young feet into the wet grass, and procured us coughs and chidings. There is a sentiment in flowers: there are flowers we cannot look upon, or even hear named, without recurring to something that has an interest in our hearts; such are the primrose, the cowslip, the May-flowe:, the daisy, &c. &c. The poets have not neglected to pay due honours to this sweet spring-flower, which unites in itself such delicacy of form, colour, and fragrance; they give it a forlorn and pensive character. The poems of Clare are as thickly strewn with primroses as the woods themselves; the two following passages are from "The Village Minstrel." Sweet are the omens of approaching Spring And sparrows chelp glad tidings from the eaves. When each new day some novelty displays, Clare. NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. |