are accustomed, by habit, to the restraints of artificial life--but in childhood, when the habits are unformed and the sensations acute, there is much to be endured from them. I was a long time, for instance, in learning to bear worsted stockings; I had, indeed, an immense number of antipathies which did not always meet with due respect. It is impossible to calculate the suffering which is inflicted on children by disregarding what we are pleased to call their whims. I can never forget the horror I felt at the simple operation of having my finger nails cut; it set my teeth an edgewhy I do not know, but I cannot mistake the fact. On the other hand, this acuteness of sensation was often a source of great enjoyment. It is impossible to describe the ravishing delight I felt from the odour of a flower garden. I well remember that every house with which I was acquainted had its own peculiar smell-I ought, however, to observe, that I have reason to think my sense of smelling is more acute than is usually possessed, a faculty which, as my lot is cast in London, I could be well content should be in somewhat less vigour.

I perfectly recollect suffering under that state of the eye so powerfully described by the Opium-Eater. The moment my nurse left me in the dark, after putting me to bed, scenes passed before my eyes as vivid and perfect as the diorama. In very early childhood this was a source of great terror. I well remember once when I was about three years of age, entering into an agreement with my aunt, that in consideration of one table-spoon full of sweet syrup first had and received, I would undertake to be quiet and peaceable for the term of the whole night then next ensuing. I swallowed my syrup and lay down fully determined to perform my share of the contract like an honest man; but no sooner was the candle gone than I was transported bed and all into an empty church, where I saw pews, pulpit, and organ, with as much reality as a minute before I had contemplated the precious bottle and the silver spoon. I roared-the scene vanished, and then fears of another kind possessed me; I trembled to hear the reproaches of my betrayed aunt-my conscience smote me, and I lay equally balanced between the opposing fears of the church and my aunt, until the gleam through the key-hole of her approaching light dispelled my visionary terrors, but wofully increased my dread of meeting the frowns of my human antagonist. By degrees my alarm at these visions wore away, but the sights themselves lasted for many years, until I was nearly grown up. I remember that any thing which in the course of the day strongly excited my imagination, influenced these nightly appearances. At six years of age I read the Pilgrim's Progress; my edition had a print representing Giant Despair pursuing Christian and Hopeful in their escape from Doubting Castle. That print haunted me cruelly. The artist had placed the Giant frightfully near the

fugitives, who were running away at a very sleepy pace. My fears lest the grisly wretch should stretch out his hand, to seize the poor fellows, amounted sometimes almost to agony.

My literary pleasures began early. Mrs. Barbauld's "Hymns for children" was the first book I called my own: my schoolmistress told me a copy was coming for me by the waggon, from London, where I had not the remotest doubt the vehicle had been despatched for the especial purpose of bringing down my book. On the day the waggon was expected to return I took my station on the window seat and waited for its advent with all the patience I could muster; at length it came, and to my dismay actually passed my father's house, without stopping to deliver my book-and I then learnt, for the first time, the melancholy fact that the waggon would go to the carrier's, that a package would then be sent to the bookseller's, that it would then have to be unpacked and my book to be sent to my school-mistress, and worse and worse, that the eternity of another night must be grappled with before I could set eyes on the object of so many anxious wishes. At length, however, the morrow came. I went at an early hour to demand my book; but, alas, in the mean time," a young lady" had requested to have a copy, and my dame knew I would readily give up my claim to "a young lady." I gave up my claim, of course, because I was obliged to it, but I should have given it up to the dog with equal satisfaction. If it were not refining too much I should be very strongly inclined to attribute the want of gallantry which my friends too justly charge upon me, to my having, at six years and a half old, been forced to give up a new book to a young lady." At length, however, I obtained a copy-how perfectly do I recollect that book-what a beautiful marble cover did it boast-what a delightful odour did it exhale. I have not seen it for five and twenty years, but I recollect perfectly well the minutest particulars connected with it: for instance, I remember that the hymn "Behold the Shepherd" began almost at the bottom of the right-hand page. I referred all the descriptions I found in my book to particular scenes with which I was familiar-I could point out now the rising ground which I appropriated to the use of the sheep bleating among the hills, and I know the timber yard in which the harsh saw of the carpenter" was to be heard.

66

66

I ought to beg pardon for these minute and trifling details, uninteresting, perhaps, to all but myself. I have only one atonement to offer. If each of my readers will take the trouble to note down his early recollections, at the same length, I will undertake to read them and thank him for the opportunity*,

M.D. H.

*We object, in toto, to this publication being the vehicle of Mr. Heaviside's edification,-EDITOR,

173

JUDAS MACCABEUS,

A FRAGMENT, IN IMITATION OF MILTON.

THE warrior youth, who by the will rais'd up
Of Israel's God, the chosen tribes releas'd
From persecution, ignominy, and shame,
Winning his way through toils, till he o'erthrew
Syria's proud monarch, from his hands redeem'd
The city of God, to Sion's Mount restor❜d
Her glory, and rekindled Israel's sun,
Sing, heav'nly Muse! who ne'er to fabled acts
Of God or God-born hero militant

Didst pay vain homage; but before the throne
Of the Omnipotent, for ever join'd

With angels and the spirits of the blest,

Tun'st the full hymn: O guide my wand'ring spirit,
My lowly fancy raise, and be my mind
From darkness light, that equal I may sing
Theme not ignoble,-o'er his leagued foes,
Judas in triumph riding, type of Him
Who through this vale of mortal misery
Travell'd with feet divine, and to his heav'n
Return'd, victorious o'er the thrones of hell.

It was the hour of eve, and the slant sun Sinking, resign'd the air to Sleep, who shed Dews from his car oblivious, and all lands With quiet moisten'd; all save one, where quiet Was none, nor hope, nor intermission sweet Of evil; through Israel's bounds havoc and death Still raged dimensionless: the altar of God Fall'n, and the sanctuary with rites profan'd Idolatrous, their happy fields laid waste, Empty and void their streets, their virgins dragg'd To shame, their youths by torture slain, or sav'd For misery and bondage. Therefore prayers,

Laments, and clamours, all night on the wind
Rose from the race to woe devote. But, far
From war or ruin, in Modin's lonely bounds
Retir'd, the Maccabean family

By moonlight at the threshold of their house
Assembled sate: grey-headed in the midst
Mattathias*, of five warlike sons the sire,

Spake of his country's woes: him with kind looks,
And more effectual words, his sons essay'd

To win from sorrow, and temper his despair,

Though sad themselves, yet smiling; sure to please
By such kind effort, whom they well might please
Not strenuous. Them thus occupy'd, beheld
Jehovah from his height, where girt with choirs
Cherubic, in th' excess of glory he sits,
Well-pleased beheld: he also heard the groans
Of that sad race, and after prelude sent
Of thunder, his ministrant spirit address'd.

"Michael, of heav'nly armies chief, and prince
Tutelar of that favour'd land, where dwell
My chosen tribes, into what state now fall'n
For their offence, thou seest, and with what weight
Of sorrow compass'd round, yet not by me
Forsaken, nor of former hope amerc'd :
Such pillar of defence will I provide
Against the heathen, who with impious arms
Have spoil'd my land, and in my fane set up
Their foul abominations; soon to quail
Before the young Deliverer, whom anon,
Great things by small volving, I will call
From Modin, humble town, where now he bides,
To quell the Syrian might, set free my tribes
Enslav'd, and in Jerusalem restore

My worship; that so Israel, in success

*We believe the accent is here wrongly placed; we have not, however, thought it worth while to make any alteration.

Rememb'ring him who gave it, from their sins
May turn, and by well-doing raise my name
Among the heathen round. Go therefore thou,
My servant, and to Modin's walls repairing,
Stir up the spirit of him, whom 'midst his sons
Fast sleeping thou wilt find, Mattathias, green
In hardy age, to me and to my laws
From youth devoted; he with hope and zeal
New fir'd, shall in the wilderness set up,
My standard, and around him many flock;
So shall he stoutly wage unequal war

Against th' oppressive Syrian; till with years
And honours crown'd, he dies, and from him dying
Judas his son, for might and feats of arms
Preferr'd above his brethren, next receives
The pow'r transmissive: he in many a fight
Conqu❜ring, shall crown the labours which his sire
So well began, and to his brethren leave
The easier part, to 'stablish what he rais'd.
So shall not yet the sceptre from the hand
Of Judah pass, nor from his line the law;
Till in due lapse of years the promis'd seed,
Messiah, mine Anointed, come on earth
To finish my whole counsel, and proclaim
To Israel first, and then to all mankind,
Tidings of love and mercy without end."

He spake, and at his bidding Michael From out the heav'nly orders, where he stood Succinct for flight, advanc'd; and first, as wont The ministers of heav'n, ere on their high Commissions they set forth, before the throne In sign of acquiescence bow'd, then spread His starry wings, and through the pure white air Of Heav'n pursu'd his flight; him all the host Follow'd with acclamation, and sweet sound Of praises to their God; till at the gates