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THE WORKS OF THE LORD ARE GREAT, SOUGHT OUT OF ALL THEM THAT HAVE PLEASURE THEREIN. HIS WORK IS HONOURABLE AND GLORIOUS; AND HIS RIGHTEOUSNESS ENDURETH FOR EVER. HE HATH MADE HIS WONDERFUL WORKS TO BE REMEMBERED; THE LORD IS GRACIOUS, AND FULL OF COMPASSION.-PSALM CXI. 2-4.
WHATSOEVER THINGS ARE TRUE, WHATSOEVER THINGS ARE HONEST, WHATSOEVER THINGS ARE JUST, WHATSOEVER THINGS ARE PURE, WHATSOEVER THINGS ARE LOVELY, WHATSOEVER THINGS ARE OF GOOD REPORT; IF THERE BE ANY VIRTUE, AND IF THERE BE ANY PRAISE, THINK ON THESE THINGS.-PHILIPPIANS IV. 8.
SOLD BY JOHN DAVIS, AT THE DEPOSITORY, 55, PATERNOSTER ROW,
GREENWICH CASTLE, KENT.
THE above engraving represents Greenwich Castle, which formerly occupied the site of the present Royal Observatory, commonly known as Flamstead House; for the erection of which, this castle was taken down in the year 1675.
Greenwich appears to have been a royal residence so early as the time of Edward 1., and long continued a favourite retreat of royalty. It was the birth-place of King Henry VIII., Queen Mary, and Elizabeth; and here the youthful monarch, Edward VI., breathed his last. After the restoration of Charles II., the old palace was found to be in a very dilapidated state, arising partly from time, and neglect in making the necessary repairs during the civil wars and the commonwealth. It was taken down, and a new one upon a magnificent scale commenced from the designs of Webb, the son-in-law of Inigo Jones. Part of it was erected, (forming with additions the west wing of the present hospital,) in which the king occasionally resided, but no farther progress was made towards its
completion until the time of William and Mary, when it was converted to its present use, as an hospital for the reception and comfortable maintenance of decayed seamen of the royal navy.
Early in the fifteenth century, the manor of Greenwich was granted to Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, by his kinsman King Henry v.; and in 1434, the duke enclosed and ornamentally planted some land, consisting of about two hundred acres, now called Greenwich Park. Also on the most elevated point of the park he erected a tower for his occasional residence, called Greenwich Castle, which is represented in our engraving.
Greenwich Castle appears to have been variously employed, sometimes as a place of defence, sometimes as a residence for the younger branches of the royal family, and at others a kind of state prison. Mary, one of the daughters of Edward IV., as also Elizabeth, Countess of Suffolk, died here; the former in 1482, and the latter in 1633. It was the occasional residence of Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton, in
the reign of James I., and the prison of the Earl of Leicester, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Likewise, in the disputes between King Charles 1. and his parliament it was used as a place of defence.
The castle appears to have been occasionally employed as a banquetting house, especially during the period when Blackheath was the scene of the tournaments, and Greenwich palace of the grand festivals given by King Henry VIII.
In the foreground of the very curious old print, from whence our engraving was copied, two ladies are represented, one of whom is masked, and they appear to be approaching the castle to join in the festivities of the place.
At the left hand corner of the print are the following lines:
"Behould by Prospect, with what Art
Fayre Greenwich Castle Pleasantly. A House of Banquet, neare and part Of Thames and London, How they ly." It is to be regretted that there is no date to this print; but the address of the publisher is as follows:
"London. Printed and sould by Peter Stent at the Crowne in Giltspur-street betwixt New Gate and Pie Corner."
Greenwich Castle was removed, at the suggestion of Sir Christopher Wren, in the year 1675, for the erection of the present building, the Royal Observatory, which it is our intention to describe in future numbers.
AND is winter really come again? sharp, frosty, bleak-blowing winter! Yes, indeed, It is true. More than three hundred and sixty-five times has the earth turned on its axis, in its journeyings round the sun, since the Weekly Visitor, pleading the cause of the poor, urged those who abounded in earthly comforts to give a blanket to the destitute and shivering being who knew not the luxury of a warm and comfortable bed. And now, again, when the raw, keen air, the descending snow, the sudden thaw, the wet slippery sloppy pathway, await the sons and daughters of poverty and affliction, the Weekly Visitor again raises its voice on behalf of the needy and destitute.
Perhaps, reader, the chapter on "Blankets," last year, did not reach your eyes, or possibly, did not influence your heart; in either case let the present appeal melt your breast
"To do some gentle deed of charity."
But suppose you did give a blanket last year to some one who wanted it, thereby expending a few shillings in the luxury of doing good-have you slept the less warm for it, or been made poorer by the deed? You know that you have not; and, most likely, since then you have expended ten times the amount in indulgences which yield not half the gratification that a deed of benevolence produces.
Think not that your gift of last year should withhold your hand from bestowing in the present one. O no! God in his mercy has not kept back his bounty from you; neither should you withhold your hand from doing good. Strengthen then the weak, bind up the bruised, encourage the broken-hearted, relieve the poor, and give a pair of shoes to some poverty-stricken being who cannot afford to buy them.
If, accustomed to be well shod during the winter, you have a good stock of shoes and boots to defend your feet from the searching influence of the dissolving snow, you can hardly imagine what is endured by those who have wet feet from morning to night. Many a hapless fellow-creature, brought up with care, and watched over with tenderness, is reduced so low, that the possession of a good pair of shoes would be considered a luxury, a positive blessing. Think of your own comforts, and of others' deprivations, and shut not up your heart to the wants of the destitute, but give a pair of shoes, or something towards enabling some poor creature who stands in need of them, to obtain such a comfort. "Whoso
Read the words of scripture, hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?" and then say, can any one go guiltlessly through the world, treading on comfortable carpets within doors, and well defended from inclemency without, while he sees, and attempts not to relieve the misery and wretchedness of those who suffer from the want of shoes?
How many hours of discomfort, how many days of affliction, yea, how many years of disease and pain have been brought on by persons getting wet in their feet! and will you let those who have fireless habitations, and blanketless beds, go almost shoeless through their plashy pathways, while perhaps lambswool stockings and strong well-made boots defend your feet from the least inconvenience? have humanity, you will not, and if you have christian charity, you cannot refuse
your aid; but, as you have ability and opportunity, you will "do good unto all men, especially to those who are of the household of faith."
If your eye be quick to discern, and your heart prompt to feel the distresses of others, you will not long lack opportunities to relieve them. Look around at the throngs that continually crowd the populous city or town; regard not only their faces, but their feet; not only their clothes, but their shoes also, and you will be surprised at the wretched shifts to which many of them are driven. It is enough to make the heart ache to see the miserable plight in which hundreds pursue their daily calling. Here is a ragged lad dragging through the miry street, with a pair of old shoes big enough for his father. There is a poor girl, who has contrived to tie on her feet with packstring, another pair, already worn out by her mother; and yonder is a barelegged and barefooted being, between whose defenceless toes the mud oozes as he paddles onward through the descending rain.
Look towards the chandler's shop at the corner. Mark that meagre and tattered mother, with a child in her arms, wending her way there for a rushlight, paddling through the snowy puddle, with an old pair of thin-soled shoes on her feet, which cost only one and ninepence when they were new. Do not talk about her imprudence, and her improvidence; who is there in this wide world that has not been imprudent and improvident? David, perhaps, you will admit, was as faithful a servant of God as you are, and he says, "If thou, Lord, shouldst mark_iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?" Does it become us, then, to be severe, in such an inclement season, on our fellow-sinners, when we have been visited with unmerited mercy? Cast another glance at the poor wretch, as she stoops to adjust her brown paper sock, and to pull up the trodden down heel of her saturated shoe, and say whether the heart is to be envied that does not yearn to lessen her wretchedness, and to increase her comforts? You may not know whether she has always acted with discretion but you do know that she is walking in a miserable puddle, and that she has a wretched pair of shoes on her feet.
Neither must you say that this picture is overdrawn; on the contrary, it is "faithful to a fault," it is sketched from the life; it is unmingled, unembellished truth, which you have only to look for to behold.
These are sights which every one may
see, and trials that every one, possessing the ability, ought to endeavour to remove; but we are too apt, in such cases, to call upon others to act, and to excuse ourselves. We can cry loud enough,
"Take physic, Pomp,
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,"
with affected virtuous indignation against hardheartedness, and yet be content to remain inactive; like the pharisees of times gone by, who bound heavy burdens on men's shoulders, while they themselves moved them not with one of their fingers.
If, selfishly regardless of others' wants, we are liberally providing for our own comforts; if, casting aside shoes but halfworn out, which so many people would thankfully receive, we are ordering new ones, to gratify our pride, we deserve, indeed, to be visited with calamity. Wonderfully quick-sighted is a lame man in observing all who walk on crutches; benevolently susceptible are we, after a fit of the tooth-ache, to the pains of all visited with a like calamity; and were we compelled, for a single day, to wade through the miry streets without shoes, or with such only on our feet as freely let in the water, such an appeal as the present would be useless, for gladly should we contribute to the removal of trials which now, perhaps, we pass without pity.
To a poor person, a strong, well-made pair of shoes is at all times a valuable present, but doubly so in the inclement season of winter. Be persuaded, then, to assist some one, whom you think worthy of your kindness, in attaining so desirable a benefit. Give not to those who frequent the pawnbroker's and gin-shop, for though you may deplore their misery, you cannot relieve it. Your bounty would only afford them a short-lived and guilty respite from their increasing cares. Give to those, who are struggling hard to procure comforts, which, when attained, will be highly valued, and carefully preserved; and when the snows are abroad, and the rains descend, when the wintry winds whistle around your cheerful habitation, you will not regret having contributed to the comforts of the destitute. All the kindly feelings you may indulge in towards the poor, are not equal to the gift of a single pair of shoes: but while I mention this gift in particular, I would exhort to all deeds of kindness. "Blessed is he that considereth the poor : the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble."