that duels used to be fought behind the mansion now appropriated to the British Museum. He also recollected Bedford-house, with the two sphinxes at either end of its front wall: indeed he ventured to predict, that upon the falling in of the present leases, the Bedford property would be considerably improved. I, on the other hand, was not idle: I said that there was quite a new town in the neighbourhood of the Regent's Park : that Gower-street would be more gay when it should become a thorough fare: and that the present was a very backward spring. I believe too I observed, that, a twelvemonth ago, nobody could have predicted that the three per cents. would have reached ninety-seven-but of this I am not certain. Turning round towards the company, I now encountered little Crosby Cookson, (christened with a sirname after his maternal Uncle,) by no means an every-day child: quite the contrary, educated at home, and attended by the very first masters. I love to talk to homeeducated children: they are the only wise people we have left. Our dialogue ran as follows:-" Well, Crosby, are you a good boy ?"—" Yes, very." "What do you learn?"-" Every thing." "You must have a prodigious memory."-" Yes, I have.” "Who gave it you ?”—“ Mr. Fine Eagle!" "Fine Eagle, indeed, the very Bird of Paradise." "Mamma says, as I shall be eight next August, it would be a great shame if I did not know all about every thing.". 66 Certainly, what else are the "Rules for Memory' good for? Let me examine you: When did Cicero flourish ?"-" In the great plague of 1666.” "Who married Queen Anne ?"-"The Black Prince." "Who strung Cleopatra's necklace ?"-" The venerable Bede." "Who gained the Battle of Blenheim ?"—" John Bunyan." "Who was the first Bishop of London ?"-" Titus Oates." "Who invented gunpowder ?"—" Bishop Blaise." "What's Latin for a carpet?”—“ Homo.” "There's a good boy, so it is!" The sound of "Dinner is ready" here caused my catechism to halt. When one is asked to meet piquant company there is much hope and fear excited with regard to whom one is placed next to at table. One fidgets, and frisks, and manoeuvres, after a pleasant partner: and, after all, 'tis ten to one that one gets planted with one's Aunt on one side, and a pale girl just out on the other. No such excited feelings arose in my bosom in Gower-street. I walked into the dining-room as philosophically as if I were entering St. Stephen's, Walbrook, on a wet Sunday afternoon. The dinner was in admirable keeping with the party. There was gravy soup at the bottom of the table, and at top a juvenile salmon, with his tail in his mouth, like the snake grasped in the right hand of the grandfather of gods and men. On the removal of these preliminaries, the salmon was succeeded by a tongue supported by boiled fowls, and the soup by an edgebone of beef. Let no man turn up his nose at an edgebone of beef : it is by no means a bad thing: certain, however, it is, that when I beheld my plate laden with two slices of that article, interspersed with greens and carrots, not to mention a dab of mustard on the margin, the delf assumed as every-day an aspect as heart could wish. I fancied myself, for the moment, seated in the cook's-shop at the corner of St. Martin's-court, where a round of beef is carved by a round of woman. On my left, sat the fat middle-aged woman in pink crape, whom I had originally found seated on the sofa. I could not catch her name, but from circumstances I was led to believe that she had been to the French play in Tottenham-street, inasmuch as she observed that Laporte reminded her of Harley. Amelia Cookson, who sat on my right hand, asked me if I had seen the Diorama; and told me, that she preferred it, upon the whole, to Mr. Irving. Amelia and I got rather intimate during dinner. There occurred two pauses from lack of conversation. This induced her to tell me in confidence, that her family were generally reckoned dull: her brother Charles, indeed, was less so than the rest: he once sent a letter to the British Press, signed " Truth," which was inserted; but still upon the whole, he was dull. However, added she, we are reckoned very amiable. I now drank a glass of sherry with the young man in blue from Basingstoke, who informed me, that sherry was become a very fashionable wine. Mr. Oliphant said it was the best wine for gouty men, which confirmed me in my original suspicion of his being afflicted with that complaint. Mr. Cookson asked me if I had seen Zoroaster or the Exhibition; and Mrs. Cookson hoped I did not find the fire troublesome. Sir John Dawson, recently from Paris, said there was not a house in London fit to be seen. I modestly suggested Devonshire-house; but Lady Dawson assured me, that it would not be endured in the Rue St. Honoré. Amelia Cookson talked to me of her Scrap Book. It was enriched, she told me, with several manuscript pieces of rare value. Yesterday a friend in Devonshire sent her something beginning with "O Solitude, romantic maid ;" then there was “O'er the vine-covered hills and gay valleys of France," which had never been published. I told her that I could let her have something of my own. Amelia expressed her gratitude, and promised in return to write me out "Gray's Elegy written in a Country Church-yard," and something else very pretty, beginning "Pity the sorrows of a poor old man." I have since kept my word by sending her "Hope, thou nurse of young Desire," and "As near Porto Bello lying." The poor girl received them with tears of gratitude. I believe I have stated every thing of moment that took place during dinner. On the summons to tea I rejoined the ladies with a benignant bow, which was meant to express a hope that they had not been very wretched during my unavoidable absence. Mrs. Oliphant supposed that we had been talking politics. There were two manuscript books lying upon the drawing-room table, viz. Amelia's Scrap Book and Lucy's Collection of Autographs. The latter had lately enriched her collection by Colonel Scrape's tailor's bill; a notice from a vestry clerk to attend a parish meeting; an original letter from a school-boy at Mortlake, hoping that his father would send John to meet him at the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, on the Wednesday following, precisely at four; and a frank given by Alderman Wood. Upon casting my eye over the collection, I found that I too had my share of graphic immortality. A letter of mine had been sedulously preserved, in which I had confidentially expressed my opinion about Jack Average's acceptances; and had ventured to surmise that Sir Hyacinth O'Rourke only went to Cheltenham to pick up an heiress. The shewing about of this epistle has since involved me in a duel, and an action for defamation : but we great folks must pay a tax for our eminence. Tea being despatched, it was intimated to me that I could sing "Madamina" in Don Giovanni, and Mrs. Cookson assured me that her daughter Lucy should accompany me. I assured Mrs. Cookson that I had no voice; and Mrs. Cookson assured me that I was an excellent singer. These two lies being uttered, Lucy pulled off her gloves to prepare for action; and Lady Dawson, recently from Paris, took that opportunity to inform me that Signor Rossini charged eighty guineas a night for attending concerts. I was startled at the magnitude of the sum, and hinted that if he were relieved of part of his burthen by the co-operation of marrow-bones and cleavers, and a comb and a piece of paper, he might possibly be induced to come for sixty. But no: I was assured by Lady Dawson, recently from Paris, that he would not fiddle to his own father for a farthing less. I now started "Madamina" to Miss Lucy Cookson's accompaniment. As the lady played in all sorts of time, I determined at last to sing to my own, so that by the period of my arrival at the slow movement, commencing "Nella bionda," my divine Saint Cecilia had arrived at " Voi sapete." We all agreed it was capital; and that the great beauty of Mozart's music was the accompaniment Lucy Cookson now rose from her music-stool to reach "Nel cor non più mi sento," with variations by Mazzinghi. Upon these occasions every-day mothers make it a rule to play puss in a corner. Mrs. Oliphant seized her opportunity, pounced upon the circular red-morocco, and placed her daughter on the momentarily vacant seat. There was not a moment to be lost. Away she started with Rousseau's Dream, with variations by Cramer; and the Saxon air, with variations by ditto. "Now, my dear," said the mother, " sing "We're a' noddin; and now sing Charley is my darling' and when you've got through Home, sweet home,' and 'Oh, softly sleep,' I'm sure the company will be delighted to hear Betty, Betty Bell," (meaning, I presume, "Batti, batti, o bel.") The young lady was too dutiful to disobey, and we too civil to object. Lucy Cookson, who had been "pushed from her stool," bade me observe, that all the allegro movements were played in slow time; that the hands of the fair usurper were glued to the keys during every rest; and the Staccato was actually played Legato. I expressed a suitable horror at this; and assisted little Crosby (who ought to have been in his bed three hours before) in raising the lid of the piano, to give effect to "My pretty page," which was thundered forth like Beethoven's Battle Sinfonia. Crosby urged me to stand closer, to eye the movements of the little red men under the wires; but I doubted the stability of the slim mahogany prop that supported the cover of the instrument, and did not wish to have what little nose I possess knocked out of my head. 6 Upon a review of all that took place at Mr. Cookson's dinner in Gower-street, it seems to me that "more common matters" were never discussed in the Court of Exchequer right glad am I that it is so, and I hope soon to dine there again. Nothing is so fatiguing as keeping one's faculties on the constant stretch. When I dine with Sir Peter Pallet, I am previously obliged to dive into Reynolds's Discourses, to qualify myself to talk about "the Art," the fact being that I don't know a Raphael from a red-herring. Jack Georgic puts my Latin to the proof; and at the Beef-steak Club I am momentarily obliged to belabour my imagination, in order to create a repartee that shall set the table in a roar, and blow my adversary to atoms. No violence like this takes place at the tables of every-day people. There my memory puts on its night-gown, and my judgment and imagination their redmorocco slippers. Let my Aunt Edwards take it as she likes, I will not sit down without proposing the following toast-" Health and prosperity to Every-day People!" * THE INDIAN WOMAN TO DIOGO ALVAREZ,* On his departure from Bahia. WHEN thou stood'st amidst thy countrymen Our captive and our foe, What voice of pity was it then That check'd the fatal blow? When the name of the mighty "Man of Fire" And our chiefs forgot their deadly ire,— Who hail'd thy victory? What voice, like the softest, sweetest note, Hath soothed thee oft to rest? And thou hast said-so tenderly ! That to sit among willow isles with me Was to be ever blest. Oh! have we not wander'd in silent night, When the thick dews fell from the weeping bough; ‡ And then these eyes as the stars were bright, But are wet like those mournful branches now! Like the leafless plant & that twines around And when in that withering clasp 'tis bound Thy vows round my trusting heart have wound, Thou wilt not return-thy words are vain! And some dark-eye'd maid of thy native Spain The summer will come, and our willow shore But thou wilt list to his song no more When the rocks with his music ring: He will murmur thy falsehood to every cave, Or will tell of thy death on the stormy wave!— *The first settler in Bahia was Diogo Alvarez, a native of Viana, young and of noble family. He was wrecked on the shoals N. of the bar of Bahia, and escaped the cruel death met by the other survivors of the crew from the Indians, by exerting himself to recover things from the wreck, and thus conciliating the favour of the natives. Among the rest some barrels of powder and a musket enabled him to astonish them by firing at a bird, which he brought down before them: he thus acquired the name of Caramura-a man of fire. From a slave he became a sovereign, and the chiefs of the savages thought themselves happy if he would accept their daughters in marriage. At length a French vessel came within the bay, and Diogo embarked in it to revisit his native country. One of his wives, in despair at his departure, swam after the ship, and her strength failing her she sunk. He returned again to Brazil.-See Southey's History of Brazil. There is a little white bird called the Ringer, because its note resembles the sound of a bell. From the tree called Escapu there falls a copious dew, like a shower, at certain hours. The leafless parasite plants destroy the trees round which they twine The natives call the Mer-men, or sea-apes, Upupiara: they go up the rivers in summer.-Ibid. -Ah no! ah no! 'tis of mine he'll tell,— M. E. PHRENOLOGY. * GIBBON, in pompous sentences, has described the progress of the hordes that issued from the North, and with barbarous hands rent from the civilised world all those embellishments which rendered it desirable. It was long after that dismal period before Literature ventured to reappear in Italy, and thence proceed to the adjoining countries of France and Spain. Freedom then commencing, the British Constitution invited her to this island, which has become her favourite abode. Lastly, she travelled towards the northern regions: and, forgetful of injuries, is now civilising her ancient enemies. Some of her attendants, however, the more sportive Muses, rarely cross the Rhine; yet those of a more staid character feel a deep interest in the grave philosophic demeanour of the Germans, and have favoured the abstruse labours of the most enlightened with frequent inspiration. : The imaginations of this people, having been more recently tutored, are less under control than those of the other countries of Europe which have been familiarised to the wonders of science and many wild opinions and systems, exploded elsewhere, are still harboured in Germany. Astrologers, illuminati, and communicants with the invisible world, are credited in all the circles of the empire; even in Vienna fire-philosophers are striving to transmute lead into gold; and professors in all the Universities still inculcate Kant's metaphysics. These aberrations of the fancy are enhanced by the intense application and the recluse lives of the learned Germans; by which their peculiar speculations become riveted in their minds without being either modified, corrected, or contradicted by the discordant opinions of others; for they seldom mingle in ordinary society, and are far less men of the world than the literary class in Italy, France, or England. Hence it is, that some of the fantastic systems of the middle ages, tinged with modern discoveries, are occasionally revived in Germany, and published as new inventions. About forty years ago Mismer flourished in Vienna, and, after acquiring an astonishing reputation there, went to Paris to promulgate his discovery to Frenchmen. This was nothing less than the grand arcanon, the universal remedy, which philosophers had so long searched for in vain and superior to empirical secrecy, he openly avowed that his remedy was magnetism; a power which, he averred, when directed scientifically through the human frame, removed every obstruction, and restored all distempered parts to pristine health. He fitted up in a spacious apartment a mysterious machine to contain a potent magnet; from the centre of which a number of steel rods radiated. Multitudes * The Editor believes himself indebted for this article to the brother of the gallant and lamented general who fell at Corunna. |