Chapter D: A. M (3)

Soon after my return home my father articled me to himself, but it was impossible for me to forget my success at Boulogne, and my inclination for the stage ripened into a determination to become an actor. I secretly applied to Mr. Sims, of the Harp, who procured me an engagement in a sharing company in the west of England, where I was to do the “low comic business” and “second tragedy.” I spent some of the money that I had saved in buying wigs and a few other stage-requisites, and left my paternal roof with three pounds in my pocket.

My exchequer not being in a state to afford me the luxury of riding, I was compelled to walk the last thirty miles of my journey. Upon my arrival at ----, my first care was to inquire for the theatre, when I was directed to a barn, which had been dignified by that appellation. I was received with all possible civility by the company, which consisted of the manager, his wife, and three gentlemen. I was informed by the manager that Jane Shore was the play for that evening, and that he should expect me to perform the part of Belmont, and also that of Bombastes Furioso in the afterpiece. The wardrobe of the theatre was unable to afford me a dress superior to my own for the part of Belmont, I therefore played that character “accoutred as I was,” viz. in a blue coat, buff waistcoat, striped trowsers, and Wellington’s. The audience was very select, consisting only of ten persons, who seemed totally indifferent to the performance, for they never once, in the course of the evening, gave any indication of pleasure, or the reverse, but witnessed our efforts to amuse with the most provoking apathy. Between the pieces I was much surprised by one of the gentlemen requesting the loan of my hat for a few minutes, as he was about to sing a song, and he assured me that there was no hat in the company, save mine, which was worthy to appear before the audience. At the conclusion of the performance we shared the receipts, which, after deducting the expenses of the house, amounted to one shilling and sixpence each. We continued to act for some time, sharing (three nights a week) from about one shilling and sixpence to two shillings each, which sum did not at all equal my sanguine expectations. Frequently have I performed kings and princes after having breakfasted upon a turnip.

I soon found that this mode of living did not suit me, for I was becoming exceedingly spare. I therefore resolved to quit the company, and return to London. Having informed the manager of my intention, I departed, and arrived in the metropolis with twopence in my pocket. I proceeded to my father’s house, where I was received with kindness, and where I still continue. I have relinquished all my pretensions to the sock, having learned from experience that which it was not in the power of reason to convince me of.

GILBERTUS.

* * * * *

SILCHESTER, HANTS.

_For the Table Book._

Every thing in this world is subject to change, and the strongest buildings to decay. The ancient Vindonum of the Romans, from whence Constantius issued several of his edicts, does not form an exception to this rule. From being a principal Roman station, it is now a heap of ruins.

Silchester is situated about eleven miles from Reading, on the side of a hill, or rather on a level spot between two, and commands most beautiful views: from its being surrounded by woodland, a stranger would be unaware of his approach to it, until he arrived at the spot. The circumference of the walls is about two miles; they possess four gates, east, north, west, and south, and are in some places twelve or fourteen feet high, and four or five feet in width; there are many fine trees (as was observed by Leland in his time) growing out of them: the wall was surrounded by a deep and broad ditch, which is now in some places nearly filled up by the ruins of the wall, and beyond which is “the external vallum, very perfect and easily to be traced out round the whole city; its highest parts, even in the present state, are at least fifteen feet perpendicular from the bottom of the ditch. A straight line, drawn from the top of this bank to the wall on the north-east side, measured thirty-four yards, its full breadth.”[419]

Between the outside of the walls and the furthest vallum was the Pomœrium, which is defined by Livy to be that space of ground both within and without the walls, which the augurs, at the first building of cities, solemnly consecrated, and on which no edifices were suffered to be raised.[420] Plutarch is of a different opinion, and ascribes the derivation of Pomœrium to _pone mœnia_, and states that it signifies the line marked out for the wall at the first foundation of a city.[421]

About a hundred and fifty yards from the north-east angle of the wall is a Roman amphitheatre, the form of which is similar to that near Dorchester, with high and steep banks, now covered with a grove of trees, and has two entrances. The elevation of the amphitheatre consists of a mixture of clay and gravel: the seats were ranged in five rows one above the other; the slope between each measuring about six feet: each bank progressively rises, (and increases proportionably in width,) to a considerable height in the centre. The area of the amphitheatre is about twenty-five yards in diameter, as near as I could guess; it is commonly covered with water, and is become a complete marsh, having a drain across the centre, and is filled up with rushes. I was informed by the woman who showed it, that some gentlemen a short time since procured a shovel, and found a fine gravel bottom at about a foot deep.

The only buildings within the walls are the farm-house and the parish church, which is an ancient structure, built of brick and flint, in the form of the letter T. The interior of the church is plain and neat; the font is of an octagonal form, of plain stone; the pulpit is also octagonal, made of oak, and is remarkably neat; over it is a handsome carved oak sounding-board, surmounted by a dove, with an olive-branch in its mouth, and round the board, at the lower part, in seven compartments, is the following inscription:--“The Gyift of James Hore, Gent. 1639.” The ascent to the pulpit is from the minister’s reading-desk, which also serves for a seat for his family. The chancel is separated from the body of the church by a handsome carved screen, in excellent preservation. In the south wall of the church, under a low pointed arch, is the recumbent figure of a female, carved in stone, of a very remote date, with the feet resting against an animal, (probably a dog,) the head of which is much damaged: there is also an angel’s head, which has been broken off from some part of the monument, and is of course loose; from what part it came I was unable to discover.

In the chancel affixed to the north wall is the following inscription on a handsome white marble monument; it is surmounted by a crown of glory, and at the bottom is a death’s head:--

Vive ut Vivas.
Hic juxta situs est
JOHANNIS PARIS, D.D.
Collegii Trinitatis apud Cantabrigiensis
Socius Senior
& hujus Ecclesiæ Rector: de quo
nisi opera loquantur
Siletur.
O I[422]

There are also monuments of the Baynards, the Cusanzes, and the Blewets, which families were owners of the manor from the time of the conquest for some generations.

On the south side of the city is a small postern under the wall, called by the common people “Onion’s hole,” and is so designated from a traditional account of a giant of that name; the coins which have been discovered are called from the cause “Onion’s pennies.”

A fair field is here open for the researches of the antiquarian; and it is much to be regretted that a good account of the place is not yet published. “The History and Antiquities of Silchester,” whence I have cited, is a pamphlet of thirty-two pages, and affords but little information. Hoping to see justice done to the place, I beg to subscribe myself, &c.

J. R. J.

[419] The History and Antiquities of Silchester, p. 12.

Silchester, a parish bordering on Berkshire, about 7 miles N. from
Basingstoke, and 45 from London, contains, according to the last
census, 85 houses and 407 inhabitants. It is supposed to have been
once a populous city, called by the Romans “Segontiaci,” by the
Britons “Caer-Segont,” and by the Saxons “Silcester,” or the great
city. _Capper._--ED.

[420] Livy, b. i.

[421] Plutarch in Romul. See Kennet’s Antiquities of Rome, p. 29.

[422] I should like to be informed the meaning of these letters--there
is no date to the monument. J. R. J.

* * * * *

TO THE NIGHTSHADE.

_For the Table Book._

Lovely but fearful,
Thy stem clings round a stronger power,
Like a fond child that trusts and grows
More beautiful in feeling’s hour.

Rich is thy blossom,
Shaped like a turban, with a spire
Of orange in a purple crest,
And humid eye of sunny fire.

When the day wakens,
Thou hearest not the happy airs
Breathed into zephyr’s faery dreams,
By insects’ wings, like leaves, in pairs.

Summer--when over--
Quits thee, with clust’ring berries red.
Hanging like grapes, and autumn’s cold
Chills what the noon-day’s sunbeams fed.

Thou art like beauty,
Gentle to touch and quickly faded;
’Tis death to taste thee void of skill,
And thou, like death, art nightly shaded.

*, *, P.

_Sept. 1827._

OR MALTON, DRIFFIELD, AND HULL FLY BOAT.]

_To the Editor._

A carriage bearing this name, of which the above is a sketch, forms a neat, safe, pleasant, and commodious conveyance from Malton, by way of Driffield, to Hull every other day, and from Hull to Malton on the intermediate days, during the summer months. The vehicle is, in fact, a boat on wheels, driven like a stage-coach, and furnished on each side of the body with a seat, extending the whole length, on which the passengers are ranged. The top is covered with a permanent awning, to which a curtain appended may be drawn up or let down at pleasure, so as to enjoy a view of the country, or shut out the sun and weather.

T. C.

_Bridlington, Oct. 1827._

* * * * *

SHEEPSHEARING IN CUMBERLAND.

_To the Editor._

Sir,--The letters of W. C., in a recent number of the _Table Book_, recalled to my mind four of the happiest years of my life, spent in Cumberland, amongst the beautiful lakes and mountains in the neighbourhood of Keswick, where I became acquainted with a custom which I shall attempt to describe.

A few days previous to the “clipping,” or shearing of the sheep, they are washed at a “beck,” or small river, not far from the mountain on which they are kept. The clippings that I have witnessed have generally been in St. John’s vale. Several farmers wash their sheep at the same place; and, by that means, greatly assist each other. The scene is most amusing. Imagine to yourself several hundred sheep scattered about in various directions; some of them enclosed in pens by the water-side; four or five men in the water rolling those about that are thrown in to them; the dames and the pretty maidens supplying the “mountain dew” very plentifully to the people assembled, particularly those that have got themselves well ducked; the boys pushing each other into the river, splashing the men, and raising tremendous shouts. Add to these a fine day in the beginning of June, and a beautiful landscape, composed of mountains, woods, cultivated lands, and a small meandering stream; the farmers and their wives, children, and servants, with hearty faces, and as merry as summer and good cheer can make them: and I am sure, sir, that you, who are a lover of nature in all her forms, could not wish a more delightful scene.

I will now proceed to the “clipping” itself. Early in the forenoon of the appointed day, the friends and relatives of the farmer assemble at his house, for they always assist each other, and after having regaled themselves with hung-beef, curds, and home-brewed ale, they proceed briskly to business. The men seat themselves on their stools, with shears in their hands, and the younger part of the company supply them with sheep from the fold; which, after having been sheared, have the private mark of the farmer stamped upon them with pitch. In the mean time the lasses are fluttering about, playing numerous tricks; for which, by the by, they get paid with interest by kisses; and the housewife may be seen busy in preparing the supper, which generally comprises all that the season affords. After the “clipping” is over, and the sheep driven on to the fells, (mountains,) they adjourn in a body to the house; and then begins a scene of rustic merriment, which those who have not witnessed it, can have no conception of. The evening is spent in drinking home-brewed ale, and singing. Their songs generally bear some allusion to the subject in question, and are always rural. But what heightens the pleasure is, that there is no quarrelling, and the night passes on in the utmost harmony. I have attended many of them, and never saw the slightest symptoms of anger in any of the party. They seldom break up till daylight makes its appearance next morning.

I am, sir,

Your constant reader,

A. W. R.

* * * * *

DR. GRAHAM.

_For the Table Book._

In the year 1782, that extraordinary empiric of modern times, Dr. Graham, appeared in London. He was a graduate of Edinburgh, wrote in a bombastic style, and possessed a great fluency of elocution. He opened a mansion in Pall Mall, called “The Temple of Health;” the front was ornamented with an enormous gilt sun, a statue of Hygeia, and other attractive emblems. The rooms were superbly furnished, and the walls decorated with mirrors, so as to confer on the place an effect like that of an enchanted palace. Here he delivered “Lectures on Health, &c.” at the extravagant rate of two guineas each. As a further attraction, he entertained a female of beautiful figure, whom he called the “goddess of health.” He hired two men of extraordinary stature, provided with enormous cocked hats and showy liveries, to distribute bills from house to house about town.

These unusual means to excite curiosity were successful; but his two guinea auditors were soon exhausted; he then dropped to one guinea; afterwards to half a guinea; then to five shillings; and, subsequently, as he said, “for the benefit of all,” to two shillings and sixpence. When he could not “draw” at that price, he finally exhibited the “Temple of Health” at one shilling a head to daily crowds for several months.

Among the furniture of Dr. Graham’s temple was a _celestial bed_, which he pretended wrought miraculous effects on those who reposed on it: he demanded for its use during one night one hundred pounds; and such is the folly of wealth, that several personages of high rank acceded to his terms. He also pretended to have discovered “The Elixir of Life,” by taking of which a person might live as long as he pleased. When this was worn out, he recommended “earth bathing,” and sanctioned it by his own practice. During one hour every day, he admitted spectators to view him and the goddess of health immersed naked in the ground to their chins. The doctor’s head was dressed and powdered, and the goddess’s was arranged in the highest fashion of the times. He carried this exhibition to every provincial town wherein he could obtain permission of the magistrates. The goddess nearly fell a victim to the practice, and the doctor, in spite of his enormous charges and his “Elixir of life,” died in poor circumstances at the age of fifty-two.

Dr. Graham’s brother married the celebrated Mrs. Macaulay, the historian, and Dr. Arnold, of Leicester, the respectable author of an able treatise on insanity, married his sister. It is generally understood that the lady who performed the singular part of the “Goddess of Health” was Emma, afterwards the wife of sir William Hamilton, and the personal favourite of the celebrated lord Nelson. She died in misery--

Deserted in her utmost need
By those her former bounty fed.

SAM SAM’S SON.

_Sept. 1, 1827._

* * * * *

STORKS.

The storks of the Low Countries are mentioned more than once in the journal of the gentlemen deputed by the “Caledonian Horticultural Society” to visit the gardens of our continental neighbours. Their route from Antwerp to Rotterdam is marked by the following entry:--

August 22, 1817. “In the course of our progress into this land of meadows and waters, we had been making inquiries about the _storks_ (Ardea Ciconia, L.) which every year visit Holland in the breeding season; and we learned that the great flock had taken its departure about ten days before. We observed several of their nests, set like wicker-baskets on the roofs of the dwelling-houses; and we had the good fortune to see one solitary dam still covering her brood, on account probably of the young one not having been sufficiently fledged to enable it to accompany the main body. We persuaded the conductor to allow us to get out of the carriage, and examine this rarity: the bird showed no sort of alarm, the _ooyevaar_ (as our Dutch friends called it) being privileged in Holland. In many places where a new house is built a nest-box is erected on the gable, or on the ridge of the roof, partly to invite the bird to make a settlement, and partly perhaps to save the thatch of the roof, in case it should come without invitation.” It is remarked by way of note, that “previous to the great migration the storks assemble in large groups, and make an unusual noise. It is known that they winter chiefly in Egypt. Pope has finely alluded to their remarkable instinct:--

Who calls the council, states the certain day?
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way?

In the beginning of May they return, like swallows, to their former haunts, the old birds carefully seeking out their accustomed nests. Sometimes, though rarely, a stray stork crosses the channel, and is seen on the English coast. It is there incessantly persecuted; it commonly perches on the roof of some thatched farm-house, where its experience leads it to hope for protection,--but it is not the dwelling of a quiet Dutch boor;[423] some pseudo-sportsman of a farmer shoots the poor bird while at roost.”

* * * * *

Of the numerous families which frequent the sides of rivers and the sea-beach, that of the stork is the best known and the most celebrated. It contains two species, the white and the black. They are exactly of the same form, and have no external difference but that of colour.

The _black_ stork prefers desert tracts, perches on trees, haunts unfrequented marshes, and breeds in the heart of forests.

The _white_ stork, on the contrary, settles beside dwellings; inhabits towers, chimnies, and ruins. The friend of man, it shares his habitations, and even his domain. It fishes in his rivers, pursues its prey into his gardens, and takes up its abode in the midst of cities, without being disturbed by the noise and bustle. On the Temple of Concord, in the capitol of Rome, were many storks’ nests. The fact is memorialized on the medals of the emperor Adrian, and alluded to by Juvenal in his first satire.

* * * * *

The stork flies steadily and with vigour; holds its head straight forward, and stretches back its legs, to direct its motion; soars to a vast height, and performs distant journies even in tempestuous seasons. It arrives in Germany about the eighth or tenth of May, and is seen before that time in the provinces of France. Gesner says, it precedes the swallow, and enters Switzerland in the month of April, and sometimes earlier. It arrives in Alsace in March, or even in the end of February. The return of the storks is ever auspicious, as it announces the spring. They instantly indulge those tender emotions which that season inspires: Aldrovandus paints with warmth their mutual signs of felicity, the eager congratulations, and the fondling endearments of the male and female, on their coming home from their distant journey. “When they have arrived at their nest--good God! what sweet salutation; what gratulation for their prosperous return! what embraces! what honied kisses! what gentle murmurs they breathe!” It is to be observed, that they always settle in the same spots, and, if their nest has been destroyed, they rebuild it with twigs and aquatic plants, usually on lofty ruins, or the battlements of towers; sometimes on large trees beside water, or on the point of bold cliffs. In France it was formerly customary to place wheels on the house-tops, to entice the stork to nestle. The practice still subsists in Germany and Alsace: and in Holland square boxes are planted on the ridge, with the same view.

When the stork is in a still posture it rests on one foot, folds back its neck, and reclines its head on its shoulder. It watches the motions of reptiles with a keen eye, and commonly preys on frogs, lizards, serpents, and small fish, which it finds in marshes by the sides of the streams, and in wet vales.

It walks like the crane with long measured strides. When irritated or discomposed, or influenced by affection to its mate, it makes with its bill a repeated clattering, which the ancients express by the significant words _crepitat_ and _glotterat_,[424] and which Petronius accurately marks by the epithet _crotalistria_,[425] formed from _crotalum_, the castanet or rattle. In this state of agitation it bends its head back, so that the lower mandible appears uppermost, the bill lies almost parallel on the back, and the two mandibles strike violently against each other; but in proportion as it raises up its neck the clattering abates, and ceases when the bird has resumed its ordinary posture. This is the only noise the stork ever makes, and, as it seems dumb, the ancients supposed it had no tongue.

The stork does not lay more than four eggs, oftener not more than two; they are of a dirty and yellowish white, rather smaller, but longer than those of a goose. The male sits when the female goes in quest of food; the incubation lasts a month; both parents are exceedingly attentive in bringing provisions to the young, which rise up to receive it, and make a sort of whistling noise. The male and female never leave the nest at once; but, while the one is employed in searching for prey, the other stands near the spot on one leg, and keeps an eye constantly on the brood. When first hatched the young are covered with a brown down, and their long slender legs not having yet strength enough to support them, they creep upon their knees. When their wings begin to grow, they essay their force in fluttering about the nest; though it often happens that in this exercise some of them fall, and are unable to regain their lodgment. After they venture to commit themselves to the air, the mother leads and exercises them in small circumvolutions around the nest, and conducts them back. About the latter end of August, when the young storks have attained strength, they join the adults, and prepare for migration.

The Greeks have placed the rendezvous of the storks in a plain of Asia, called the “Serpent’s District,” where they congregated, as they do now in some parts of the Levant, and even in Europe, as in Brandenburg and elsewhere. Shaw says, in his Travels, “It is remarked that the storks before they pass from one country into another, assemble a fortnight beforehand, from all the neighbouring parts, in a plain; holding once a day a _divan_, as they say in that country, as if their object was to fix the precise time of their departure and the place of their retreat.”

When they convene previous to their departure, they make a frequent clattering with their bill, and the whole flock is in tumultuary commotion; all seem eager to form acquaintance, and to consult on the projected route, of which the signal in our climate is the north wind. Then the vast body rises at once, and in a few seconds is lost in the air. Klein relates, that having been called to witness this sight he was a moment too late, and the whole flock had already disappeared. Indeed this departure is the more difficult to observe, as it is conducted in silence, and often during the night. Belon says, that their departure is not remarked, because they fly without noise or cries, while the cranes and wild-geese, on the contrary, scream much on the wing. It is asserted, that in their passage, before they venture to cross the Mediterranean, they alight in great numbers in the neighbourhood of Aix in Provence. Their departure appears to be later in warm countries; for Pliny says, that “after the retreat of the stork it is improper to sow.”

It was remarked by the Jewish prophet, that “the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed time,” (Jeremiah viii. 7.;) but though the ancients observed the migrations of these birds, they do not seem to have been certain as to the countries of their retirement. Modern travellers acquaint us more accurately. “It is perfectly ascertained,” says Belon, “that the storks winter in Egypt and in Africa; for we have seen the plains of Egypt whitened by them in the months of September and October. At that season, when the waters of the Nile have subsided, they obtain abundance of food; but the excessive heats of summer drive them to more temperate climates; and they return again in winter, to avoid the severity of the cold: the contrary is the case with the cranes, which visit us with the geese in winter, when the storks leave us.” This remarkable difference is owing to that of the climates which these birds inhabit; the geese and ducks come from the north, to escape the rigours of the winter; the storks leave the south, to avoid the scorching heats of summer. It was a common opinion in the time of Albertus Magnus that the storks do not retire in winter, but lurk in caverns, or even at the bottom of lakes. Klein relates, that two storks were dragged out of the water in the pools near Elbing. Gervais of Tillebury speaks of other storks that were found clustered in a lake near Arles; Merula, in Aldrovandus, speaks of some which fishermen drew out of the lake of Como; and Fulgosus, of others that were fished near Metz. Martin Schoockius, who wrote a treatise on the stork in 1648, supports these testimonies. But the history of the migrations of the storks is too well known, not to attribute to accidents the facts just mentioned, if they indeed may be relied on.

Belon says, that he saw storks wintering round Mount Amanus, near Antioch; and passing about the end of August towards Abydus, in flocks of three or four thousand, from Russia and Tartary. They cross the Hellespont; and on the summits of Tenedos divide into squadrons, and disperse themselves northwards.

Dr. Shaw says, that about the middle of May, 1722, “Our vessel, being anchored under Mount Carmel, I saw three flocks of storks, each of which was more than three hours in passing, and extended a half mile in breadth.” Maillet relates, that he saw the storks descend, towards the end of April, from Upper Egypt, and halt on the grounds of the Delta, which the inundation of the Nile soon obliges them to leave.

Crows sometimes intermingle with the storks in their passage, which has given rise to the opinion of St. Basil and Isidorus, that the crows serve to direct and escort the storks. The ancients also speak much of the combats between the storks and ravens, jays, and other species of birds, when their flocks, returning from Lybia and Egypt, met about Lycia and the river Xanthus.

Storks, by thus removing from climate to climate, never experience the severities of winter; their year consists of two summers, and twice they taste the pleasures natural to the season. This is a remarkable peculiarity of their history; and Belon positively assures us, that the stork has its second brood in Egypt.

It is said, that storks are never seen in England, unless they are driven upon the island by some storm. Albin remarks, as a singular circumstance, that there were two of these birds at Edgeware, in Middlesex; and Willoughby declares, that a figure which he gives was designed from one sent from the coast of Norfolk, where it had accidentally dropped. Nor does the stork occur in Scotland, if we judge from the silence of Sibbald. Yet it often penetrates the northern countries of Europe; into Sweden, over the whole of Scania, into Denmark, Siberia, Mangasea on the river Jenisca, and as far as the territories of the Jakutes. Great numbers are seen also in Hungary, Poland, and Lithuania. They are also met with in Turkey, and in Persia, where Bruyn observed their nest carved on the ruins of Persepolis; and according to that author, they are dispersed through the whole of Asia, except the desert parts, which they seem to shun, and the arid tracts, where they cannot subsist.

Aldrovandus assures us, that storks are never found in the territory of Bologna; they are rare even through the whole of Italy, where Willoughby, during a residence of twenty-eight years, saw them only once. Yet it appears, from Pliny and Varro, that anciently they were there common; and we can hardly doubt but that, in their route from Germany to Africa, or in their return, they must pass over Italy and the islands of the Mediterranean. Kœmpfer affirms, that they reside the whole year in Japan; which therefore, if he is correct, is the only country where they are stationary; in all others, they retire a few months after their arrival. In France, Lorraine and Alsace are the provinces where these birds are the most numerous; there they breed; and few towns or villages in Lower Alsace are without storks’ nests on their belfries.

The stork is of a mild disposition, neither shy nor savage; it is easily tamed; and may be trained to reside in our gardens, which it will clear of insects and reptiles. It has almost always a grave air, and a mournful visage; yet, when roused by example, it shews a certain degree of gaiety; for it joins the frolics of children, hopping and playing with them. Dr. Hermann, of Strasburg, says, “I saw in a garden, where the children were playing at hide and seek, a tame stork join the party, run its turn when touched, and distinguish the child, whose turn it was to pursue the rest, so well as to be on its guard.” In the domestic condition the stork lives to a great age, and endures the severities of our winters. Heerkens, of Groningen, author of a Latin poem on the stork, says that he kept one fifteen years; and speaks of another which lived twenty-one years in the fish-market of Amsterdam, and was interred with solemnity by the people. Olaus Borrichius mentions a stork aged more than twenty-two years, which became gouty.

To the stork are ascribed the virtues of temperance, conjugal fidelity, and filial and paternal piety. There is a history, famous in Holland, of “the Delft stork;” which, in the conflagration of that city, after having in vain attempted to rescue her young, perished with them in the flames. It is certain, that the stork bestows much time on the education of its young, and does not leave them till they have strength sufficient for their defence and support; when they begin to flutter out of the nest, the mother bears them on her wings, protects them from danger, and sometimes perishes with them rather than she will forsake them. The stork shows tokens of attachment to its old haunts, and even gratitude to the persons who have treated it with kindness. It has been heard to rap at the door in passing, as if to tell its arrival, and give a like sign of adieu on its departure. But these moral qualities are nothing in comparison of the affection and tender offices which these birds lavish on their aged and infirm parents. The young and vigorous storks frequently carry food to others, which, resting on the brink of the nest, seem languid and exhausted, either from accidental injuries or the infirmities of years.

The ancients assert, that nature has implanted in brutes this venerable piety, as an example to man, in whose breast the delicious sentiment is often obliterated. The law which compelled the maintenance of parents was enacted in honour of the stork, and inscribed by its name. Aristophanes draws from its conduct a bitter satire on the human race.

Ælian alleges, that the moral qualities of the stork were the chief cause of the respect and veneration which it enjoyed among the Egyptians; and the notion which the common people among whom it resorts still entertain, that its settling on a house betokens prosperity, is perhaps a vestige of the ancient opinion.

An ancient writer affirms, that the storks, worn out with old age, repair to certain islands in the ocean, where, in reward for their piety, they are changed into men. In auguries, the appearance of the stork denoted union and concord. Its departure in the time of public calamity was regarded as a dismal presage; Paul, the deacon, says, that Attila, having purposed to raise the siege of Aquileia, was determined to renew his operations, upon seeing storks retiring from the city and leading away their young. In hieroglyphics it signified piety and beneficence, virtues which its name expressed in the most ancient languages; and we often see the emblem, as on the two beautiful medals of L. Antonius, given in Fulvius Ursinus, and in two others of Q. Metellus, surnamed “the Pious,” as reported by Paterculus. Dr. Shaw says, that the Mahometans have a great esteem and veneration for it. It is almost as sacred among them as the ibis was among the Egyptians; and they would look upon a person as profane, who should kill or even harm it. So precious were storks held in Thessaly, which country they cleared of serpents, that the slayer of one of these birds was punished with death. They were not eaten among the Romans; and a person who, from a strange sort of luxury, ordered one to be brought to his table, drew upon himself the direful obloquy of the whole people. Nor is the flesh of this bird recommended by its quality--formed by nature for our friend, and almost our domestic, it was never destined to be our victim.[426]

[423] _Boer_ in the low countries, and _Bauer_ in Germany, signifies a
farmer.

[424] Quæque salutato crepitat concordia nido. _Juvenal_, Sat. I.

Glotterat immenso de turre ciconia rostro. _Aut. Philomel._

[425] Publius Syrus had made the same application of his word.

[426] Buffon.

* * * * *

VARIA.

_For the Table Book._

NEWSPAPER READERS.

Shenstone, the poet, divides the readers of a newspaper into seven classes. He says--

1. The illnatured look at the list of bankrupts.

2. The poor to the price of bread.

3. The stockjobber to the lies of the day.

4. The old maid to marriages.

5. The prodigal to the deaths.

6. The monopolizers to the hopes of a wet and bad harvest.

7. The boarding-school and all other young misses, to all matters relative to Gretna Green.

FIRES IN LONDON.

From the registry of fires for one year, commencing Michaelmas 1805, it appears, that there were 366 alarms of fire, attended with little damage; 31 serious fires, and 155 alarms occasioned by chimneys being on fire, amounting in all to 552 accidents of this nature. The offices calculate on an alarm of fire every day, and about eight serious fires in every quarter of the year.

HENRY VIII. AND HIS PEERS.

When we advert to early parts of the history of this country, we cannot but be thankful to heaven for the progress of just principles, and the security we derive from the laws. In the reign of Henry VIII. that monarch wanted to carry some measure through the house of lords, contrary to its wishes. The peers hesitated in the morning, but consented in the afternoon. Some of their body waited on him to inform him thereof, when the tyrant made reply, “It is well you did it, or by this time half your heads would have been upon Temple Bar.”

FEMALE SHERIFFS AND JUSTICES.

Nicholas, earl of Thanet, was succeeded by his next brother John, the fourth earl, born 7th August, 1638. He also succeeded his mother Margaret, countess of Thanet, as baron Clifford, Westmoreland, and Vescey, who by her last will, dated June 19, 1676, gave the Yorkshire and Westmoreland estates to this John for life; she died the 14th August following, and he then succeeded her in the sheriffdoms of Westmoreland and Cumberland, where it frequently happened that female heiresses became possessed of them.

There are several instances of women bearing that office, as may be seen in most of the treatises in which that duty is mentioned. Those things required by it, not proper to be undertaken by a female, were intrusted to a deputy, or shire clerk.

Not only the office of sheriff, but even justice of peace, has been in the hands of the fair sex. Among the Harleian manuscripts is a very remarkable note, taken from Mr. Attorney-general Noy’s readings in Lincoln’s-inn, in 1632, in which, upon the point whether the office of a justice of a forest might be executed by a woman, it was said, that Margaret, countess of Richmond, mother to Henry VII., was a justice of peace; that the lady Bartlet was made a justice of peace by queen Mary in Gloucestershire; and that in Sussex, one Rouse, a woman, did usually sit upon the bench at assizes and sessions among the other justices, _gladio-cincta_, girded with a sword. It is equally certain, that Anne, countess of Pembroke, exercised the office of hereditary sheriff of Westmoreland, and at the assizes of Appleby sat with the judges on the bench, which puts this point beyond a question.

SAM SAM’S SON

* * * * *

WOMEN.

It is the opinion of Mr. J. P. Andrews, that antiquarians are by no means apt to pay great attention to the fair sex. He says,

“Their Venus must be old, and want a nose.”

He instances, as among those who have “set themselves most warmly” against females, old Antony à Wood, whose diary affords some specimens of grotesque dislike.

Page 167. “He” (sir Thomas Clayton) “and his family, most of them _womankind_, (which before were looked upon, if resident in the college, a scandal and abomination thereunto,) being no sooner settled,” &c. than “the warden’s garden must be altered, new trees planted, &c. All which, though unnecessary, yet the poor college must pay for them, and all this to please a woman!”

P. 168. “Frivolous expenses to pleasure his proud lady.”

P. 173. “Yet the warden, by the motion of his lady, did put the college to unnecessary charges and very frivolous expenses. Among which were a very large looking-glass, for her to see her ugly face and body to the middle, and perhaps lower.”

P. 252. “Cold entertainment, cold reception, cold, clownish woman.”

P. 257. “Dr. Bathurst took his place of vice-chancellor, a man of good parts, and able to do good things, but he has a wife that scorns that he should be in print. A scornful woman! Scorns that he was dean of Wells! No need of marrying such a woman, who is so conceited that she thinks herself fit to govern a college or a university.”

P. 270. “Charles lord Herbert, eldest son of Henry, marquis of Worcester, was matriculated as a member of Ch. Ch. Ætat 16. natus Lond. I set this down here, because the father and ancestors were all catholics, but because the mother is a presbyterian, a Capel, she (against the father’s will, as it is said) will have him bred a protestant; so that by this change the catholics will lose the considerablest family in England, and the richest subject the king has.”

Selden, too, is cited as an antiquarian inattentive to gallantry.

“It is reason,” says he, “a man that will have a wife should be at the charge of her trinkets, and pay all the scores she sets on him. He that will keep a monkey it is fit he should pay for the glasses he breaks.”

But ladies can, if they please, retaliate severely. A gentleman who had married a second wife, indulged himself in recurring too often in conversation to the beauty and virtues of his first consort. He had, however, barely discernment enough to discover that the subject was not an agreeable one to his present lady. “Excuse me, madam,” said he, “I cannot help expressing my regrets for the dear deceased.” “Upon my honour,” said the lady, “I can most heartily affirm that I am as sincere a mourner for her as you can be.”

* * * * *

DOWER.

There was an absolute necessity for providing a dower for the widow in the thirteenth century, because women at that period had no personal fortune to entitle them to a jointure by way of marriage. Shiernhook, and all the writers upon the ancient laws of the northern nations, dwell much upon the _morgengavium_; i. e. the present made by the husband to his wife the morning after consummation. It is singular, therefore, that we have no traces of such a custom. In the Philippine islands, a certain proportion of the dower is paid to the intended wife after liberty of conversing with her; a greater share for the permission of eating with her; and the balance upon consummation.[427]

[427] Gemelli, vol. v. Napoli, 1708.

* * * * *

SANS CHANGER.

_For the Table Book._

The maiden, with a vivid eye,
Whose breath is measured by her sigh;
The maiden, with a lovely cheek,
Whose blushes in their virtue break;
Whose pulse and breath would die unblest
If not by changeless Love carest;--
’Tis she that gives her partner’s life
The perfect and the happy wife
_Sans changer_.

If choice be true, she proves a friend
Whose friendship fails not to the end;
She sweetens dear affection’s power
That lasteth to life’s parting hour:
Her heart beats that her love might go
Through every pang her Love’s could know,
And yields its latest throb, to give
Truth to that heart she loves, to live
_Sans changer_.

----.

* * * * *

CASUALTIES OF THE ANCIENTS.

_To the Editor._

Your having, sir, inserted certain “Antipathies” which I communicated to your work, encourages me to hope you will find some “Casualties” not unacceptable.

Anacreon, according to Pliny and Valerius Maximus, was choked with the kernel of a raisin, and Tarquinius Priscus with a fishbone; the senator Fabius with a hair; and the very sight of a physician in a dream, frighted Andragorus out of his life. Homer, Rutilius, Rusciacus, and Pomperanus were overwhelmed with grief. Zeuxis and Philemon died with laughing; the one at the picture of an old woman which himself had drawn, the other at an ass eating of figs. Polycryta,[428] Philippides, and Diagorus were carried away with a sudden joy; and the tyrant Dionysius and Sophocles by excessive triumph at the news of a victory. The bald head of Æschylus cost him dearly; for an eagle hovering over it mistook it for a stone, and thinking to break an oyster upon it, gave him a mortal wound.[429] Archimedes was killed by a soldier, as he was making diagrams in the sand; and Pindar, in the theatre, by his repose as he lay on the knees of his dear Theoxenus.[430]

Like the people in Pliny, we pay tribute for a shadow. Every age, condition, and family has its peculiar evils. Cares and sorrows intermingle with our possessions and gratifications. We taste myrrh in our wine; and while we crop rosebuds to crown our heads, we prick our fingers. We do not so properly enjoy our pleasures, as suffer them.

“The portion of man is like that of a rose, which at first is fair as the morning, when it newly springs from the clefts of its hood, and full with the dew of heaven as the fleece of a lamb; but when a ruder breath has forced open its virgin modesty, and dismantled its retirements, it begins to decline to the symptoms of a sickly age; it bows the head and breaks the stalk, and at night having lost some of its leaves, and all its beauty, falls into the lap of noisome weeds.”[431]

ΠΡΙ

[428] Agellius, lib. iii. cap. 15.

[429] Suidas, Aristoph. in Ranis, lib. x. cap. 3. et Max. ibid.

[430] Θεοξενου γονατα, Suidas.

[431] Bishop Taylor

* * * * *

THE HOUR OF PRIME.

* * * * *

Mira d’intorno, Silvio,
Quanto il mondo ha di vago, e di gentile,
Opra e d’amore: * * *
* * * Amante e il cielo, Amante
La terra, Amante il mare.
Al fine, Ama ogni cosa.

_Pastor Fido._

* * * * *

Ask why the violet perfume throws
O’er all the ambient air;
Ask why so sweet the summer rose,
Ask why the lily’s fair.

If these, in words, could answer frame,
Or characters could trace,
They’d say, the frolic zephyrs came
And courted our embrace.

And we (unskill’d in that false lore
That teaches how to feign,
While days and years fly swiftly o’er,
And ne’er return again,)

A prompt obedience ready paid
To Nature’s kind command,
And meeting Zephyr in the glade,
We took his proffer’d hand.

And loving thus, we led along
In jocund mirth the hours;
The bee bestow’d her ceaseless song,
The clouds refreshing show’rs.

From out the Iris’ radiant bow
In gayest hues we drest,
And all our joy is, that we know
We have been truly blest.

Believe not in the sombre lay
Of one[432] who lov’d grief’s theme,
That “_have been blest_” is “title gay”
“Of misery’s extreme.”

Discard so woe-begone a muse
In melancholy drown’d,
And list’ a mightier bard[433] who strews
His laughing truths around.

“The rose distill’d is happier far
Than that which, with’ring on the thorn,
Lives, grows, and dies a prey to care
In single blessedness forlorn.”

Mark then the lesson, O ye fair!
The pretty flow’rets teach,
The truths they tell more precious are
Than coquetry can reach.

Or all cold prudence e’er design’d
To cloud affection’s beams,
To cross with doubts the youthful mind,
Or cheat it with fond dreams.

Leave then at once all fond delay,
Nor lose the hour of prime,
For nought can call back yesterda
Nor stop the hand of time.

And youth and beauty both have wings,
No art can make them stay,
While wisdom soft, but ceaseless sings,
“Enjoy them while you may.”

E. E.

[432] Dr. Young.

[433] Shakspeare.

* * * * *

_For the Table Book._

THE SOLDIER’S RETURN.

A FRAGMENT.

The sound of trumpet, drum and fife
Are fit for younger men,
He seeks the calm retreat of life,
His Mary and his glen.

----Many days and nights the wounded soldier travelled with his knapsack and stick to reach his native place, and find solace in the bosom of his relatives. The season merged into the solstice of winter, the roads were bad, his feet were tender, and his means were scanty. Few persons in years could have borne the fatigue and hardships he endured; but if he could find his wished-for Mary, he trusted all would be well--his spirit could not break while the hope of his earliest attachment survived. He had fought hard in the conflict of the battle-field--the conflict of love had not smoothed his “wrinkled front.” He trudged onward, and persevered till he reached the cottage of his nativity. It was humble but neat. He drew the latch, crossed the threshhold, and entered the domicile. An elderly female was lying on a bed. Her niece sat by the bedside reading to her. The maiden rose, and, putting the book aside, questioned his name and business. He threw down his knapsack; he caught the countenance, though faded from its youth, like his, of his dear, bedridden Mary, and, clasping his hands with hers, sat many hours reciting his history, and listening in tears to her afflictions, occasioned by his roving disposition. He now, to make reparation, seasoned her hopes by promises of final rest with her till their suns should set together in the sphere of earthly repose; for Mary was the only person living of all his once numerous companions in the Glen--

----.

Vol. II.--46.

This singular being, who in every thing, but his extraordinary powers of memory and calculation, is almost idiotic, was born at Buxted, in Sussex, in 1785, and has followed the occupation of a labourer. He is ignorant in the extreme, and uneducated, not being able to read or write; and yet he can, with facility, perform some of the most difficult calculations in arithmetic. The most extraordinary circumstance, however, is the power he possesses of recollecting the events of every day, from an early period of his life. Upon being asked, what day of the week a given day of the month occurred? he immediately names it, and also mentions where he was, and what was the state of the weather. A gentleman who had kept a diary, put many questions of this kind to him, and his replies were invariably correct. Watson has made two or three tours into Hampshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, and Somersetshire, and has exhibited his singular powers in the principal towns in those counties; is familiar with every town, village, and hamlet in Sussex, can tell the number of churches, public-houses, &c. in each. The accompanying portrait, drawn by Mr. S. W. Lee, of Lewes, will give a correct idea of this singular individual. Phrenologists, who have examined George’s skull, state the _organ of numbers_ to be very strongly developed.

~Garrick Plays.~

No. XL.

[From “Fatal Jealousy,” a Tragedy, Author unknown, 1673.]

_No Truth Absolute: after seeing a Masque of Gipseys._

_1st Spectator._ By this we see that all the world’s a cheat,
Whose truths and falsehoods lie so intermixt,
And are so like each other, that ’tis hard
To find the difference. Who would not think these people
A real pack of such as we call Gipseys?
_2d Spect._ Things perfectly alike are but the same;
And these were Gipseys, if we did not know
How to consider them the contrary:
So in terrestrial things there is not one
But takes its form and nature from our fancy,
Not its own being, and is but what we think it.
_1st Spect._ But Truth is still itself?
_2d Spect._ No, not at all, as Truth appears to us;
For oftentimes
That is a truth to me, that’s false to you;
So ’twould not be, if it was truly true.

* * * * *

How clouded Man
Doubts first, and from one doubt doth soon proceed
A thousand more, in solving of the first!
Like ’nighted travellers we lose our way,
Then every ignis fatuus makes us stray,
By the false lights of reason led about,
Till we arrive where we at first set out:
Nor shall we e’er truth’s perfect highway see,
Till dawns the day-break of eternity.

_Apprehension_

O Apprehension!--
So terrible the consequence appears.
It makes my brain turn round, and night seem darker
The moon begins to drown herself in clouds,
Leaving a duskish horror everywhere.
My sickly fancy makes the garden seem
Like those benighted groves in Pluto’s kingdoms.

_Injured Husband._

_Wife (dying.)_ Oh, oh, I fain would live a little longer,
If but to ask forgiveness of Gerardo!
My soul will scarce reach heav’n without his pardon.
_Gerardo (entering)._ Who’s that would go to heav’n,
Take it, whate’er thou art; and may’st thou be
Happy in death, whate’er thou didst design.

_Gerardo; his wife murdered._

_Ger._ It is in vain to look ’em,[434] if they hide;
The garden’s large; besides, perhaps they’re gone.
We’ll to the body.
_Servant._ You are by it now, my Lord.
_Ger._ This accident amazes me so much,
I go I know not where.

_Doubt._