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much had she not abruptly raised her hands, and il gratitude, were so modest as 10 conceal their groaned aloud :-" That honest soul of an faces with the crape, lest they should give him uncle! God bless him! he is happy! we will the lie. He gave them several pious directions not envy him his happiness!" This was the
how to stop the torrent of their tears; but these sigual for general plunder. My strong box had
the good man inight well have spared. I listento sastain the first assault. My clothes and ed, however, with great patience to his discourse. furniture shared the same fate, They carried | But at length he went too far. He protested every thing into a chamber which they proposed | with such violence, that he grew quite red should be sealed up by a certain gentleman in the face; I say, he protester that I had whose name I do not recollect, but who was been a man of great erudition, but of still greater declared to be an honest and respectable inan, || hunanity, a zealous promoter of the arts and because he carried a large seal, and was attended sciences, but by far a more zealous and strenuous by two wirnesses. Thus far I had been a patient U protector of widows and orphans. He alder, observer of the proceedings of my heirs, but my happy marriage had been a visibl« reward of began to tremble when I saw that my papers these rare virtues. “Appear!" exclaimed he, were to be attacked likewise. They were ex. “ come forth from your tomb, ye decayed bones amined with the most scrupulous care. All of the late amiable and excellent Mrs. papers which began, I promise to pay, &c. were Heavens! how did I tremble when I heard him treated with religious regard, and carefully put call upon my late wife! I fed without looking by; but a few others which commenced with back. I Aed out of the church. the words, Bought of, &c. caused them to shake Apprehending that my gentle consort wouid their heads. They at last assailed my literary obey the invocation, I soared aloft, when I de. manuscripts, which rendered me furious. I scried a great number of departed souls, some of Rew, in despair, to defend them; but, probably, whom were known to me, and others not. This should not have succeeded, if the son of my unexpected sight astonished me. Surprize made øster, a master of arts, had not assisted me un me gaze at them with eyes wide open, as an designedly, by throwing the whole bundle under owner of a chandler's shop in a small country neath the table, protesting they were waste. town would stare at the exchange at Hamburgh paper. The dunce! Preparations were now on seeing it the first time. I should never have made for any interment, which was forwarded I expected to meet at that place with such a with astonishing dispatch; and as soon as the numerous society of departed spirits. All their tailor and mantuamaker had finished the usual occupations appeared singu ar and uncommon to badges of mourning and affliction, no money was me. I was curious, and yet irresolute. I knew sparel to remove my corpse without further not whither I should turn myself, but neverthe delay. My body was carried to the church, less had not sufficient courage to apply to one of attended by a numerous train of mourners, and them to remove my doubts. all ceremonies which usually are observed on the | A very lively spirit, resembling very much the interment of those who are justly, regretted in soul of our young men of fashion, was the first death, and leave ample property behind them, who noticed my perplexity. We were perfect were perforined with the strictest decorum and strangers to one another, but he was so complaiexactness. At last appeared in the pulpit an sant as to fly towards me, protesting a thousand Grator, whoin my heirs had rendered sensible of times upon his honcur and soul, that he should all my virtues by means of a sealed paper which deem himself superlatively happy in rendering appeared rather heavy. Satisfied as I always me any service in his power, assuring me that was with myselí during the whole course of my his offer was not intended to be a mere coinpii. hfe, I was nevertheless doubtful whether I really ment. He shook me by "he hand will it began was the identicul person of whom he spoke in to ache, repeating his proffers of friendship again his funeral seriosi. I surveyed the whole and again, and I was just going to avail myself of church, inagining I should perhaps discover an bis kind offer, when he turned himself round on other corpse, to whom the panegyrics of the hi: hécl, whistling a tune, and flying to another orator related, but could not descry any, and now spirit to offur his services in a similar manner. perceived that they must apply to myself. Ie! This incident considerably encreased my con. called me a great, celebrated, and learned man, fusion. I had not the courage to apply for in. * patron of the sciences, his Mecenas; and formation, for fe r I should a second time full against this I had not much to object, as it was ! into the hands of an oficious young gen leman. Bot too much for twelve ducats. He lavished While I was yet undetermined what I should more than twenty tropes to depict the sorrows do, I observed within a sm Il distance a soul which my heirs felt at the untimely death of who seemned to be an attentive observer of every their excellent relation; and the formacr, from thing that was doing in that spot. I could clearly
see that something more important than mere || the most ridiculous conduct. Its whole appearcuriosity was the cause of the attention I per ance is more like a dream than reality, because ceived in that soul. His countenance appeared, it was in life chiefly occupied with the most fanci. at times, extremely serious; but at intervals I ful reveries. It had, in the nether world, very descried an expression of ridicule in his looks, erroneous conceptions of the laudable zeal with and when he smilerl I could plainly discern traces which worthy men endeavoured to promote reof compassion in his face. I should, on this finement of taste. What these obtained by scir account, have been tempted to take him for the ence and modesty, that soul vainly strove to prodeparted spirit of the author of the English Spec- cure by clamour and impetuosity tator, had his face been shorter and broader : My leader was going to enlarge upon this however I took courage to accost him, and hav- || subject, but my curiosity rendered me so im paing disclosed my wishes, saw that he was pleased tient, that I took him by the hand, and pressed with my enquiries. He shook my hand good through the crowd. I beheld, upon a high stage, naturedly, and said, I will gratify your desire. Y a soul in the pompous attire of a mountebank, for Since I have parted from my body, I always whom I should have taken it, had not my confound the greatest pleasure in observing the ductor apprized me that he was a charlatan of actions of departed souls. My occupations, good taste. He had erected his stage on an when live, were of a similar nature. I aimed in elevated spot, whence he could overlook the my writings to convince my fellow.citizens of | assembled multitude, and be seen by every one. their errors, and to direct them to the road to The architecture of the stage was, however, in a happiness. Follow me, you will learn every Gothic style, and rather absurd, and the ornathing that can be useful to you. I requested mens did not correspond with each other, this spirit to tell me his name, which he did, Some pieces consisted in carvings, which appear. after I had promised to keep it a profound secret. ed extremely sumptuous, and executed with My readers must excuse me for keeping my uncommon skill. My conductor assured me promise. The departed souls are a little more that the charlatan had stolen them out of old conscientious with regard to this point than lovers. temples, where they had been preserved as re
I descried, within a short distance from the markable relics of Roman and Greek architec. spoi where we were, a numerous concourse of ture. He added, they had been carried off by souls, and the noise which they made tempted some of his associates, whom he had purposely me to go nearer. My conductor, at first, cau kept at London and Paris, and that he now was so tioned me, asserting that I ran the risk of receiv
impudent as to pretend that they had been carved ing blows in the throng. But I was determined by his own hands, though he had been repeatedly to run the risk, and requested him to attend me. convicted of the theft, and that it even had been I will accompany you, said he at length, but proved to him froin what places he had obtained first tell me whether you are a poet? This ques them. tion hurt ne more than I can express, and i! This account appeared incredible to me; for I would have severely resented it had it been put observed that the pirated ornaments composed to me when alive. I became painfully sensible scarcely one-fourth of his theatre, while the three of the loss of my writings, which I had left be. remaining parts consisted of logs of timber, of unhind me, and was silly enough to resolve to return planed boards, and of toys with which children are to my study, and to fetch some printed proofs.
wont to play. All this was patched together in I hinted it to my conducwr; but his countenance
a clumsy and confused inanner, and threatened grew at once so serious that I was ashamed of
every moment to come to pieces. This would my being an author; therefore I told him in
probably have happened, had not several persons, timid accents that I, when alive, had not been
who appeared to wear his livery, supported it an eneiny to poetry. This is very well, replied
with anxious care. Their master seemed, howa he: I put this question to you, because you must
ever, totally indifferent to his precarious situation. possess some knowledge of the disposition an!
He paced the stage with firm strides, and whenthe extravagancies of poets, if you are desirous of
ever he extolled his nostrumis, spoke in such visiting that spol with advantage. You will see
accents of confidence, that the whole structure singular objecis. It should seem that the order
'was shaken. I never witnessed a more impudent of narure is totally reversed in that place, and
presumption than this charlatan displayed. His you will and that all the actions that will occur
face was extremely ugly and mishapen. I could, to your observarion are widcly different from
nevertheless, discover that he was painted, and what they na'urally used to be, because the poets
vain enough to flatter himself, that he was the d not think shey naturally ought to do. The most charming mountebank of his time. whole district, continued he, is put in motion by
[To be continued.] a soul, who, when alive, distinguished itself by |
THE ANTIQUARIAN OLIO.
[Continued from Page 43.]
| bad. From Temple Bar to the Savoy, it appears
to have been paved about 1385, but the paving Close to this house was Ivy Bridge, which went no further than the Savoy ill the latter is described as situated in the high street, and as l part of Elizabeth's reign; and it also appears at having had a way, or low going down, under it, that time nut to have been completely inhabited; stretching to the Thames, similar to Strand Bridge before this time the few houses that existed there before spoken of. Strype represents it as being were, probably, in general either inns for the the next turning down to the water westward of accommodation of such persons as were brought Salisbury-street.
from the country on business depending before At this place Stow considers the city of West the courts of law at Westminster, or else cottages, minster as commencing. The space from Temple. with a small portion of ground. In the latter Bar to Ivy Bridge being comprehended within part of Elizabeth's reign, or in the former part the duchy of Lancaster. Originally, however, ll of that of her successor, it appears to have been Thoraey Island and Westminster were co-exten considered as an elegant situation. Ben Jonson, sire, and consequently at that time Westminster in his comedy of Epicene; or, the Silent Womun, came no nearer to London than the end of act i. sc. iv. introduces Sir Amorous La Fovle as Gardeners-lane, King-street.
commending Clerimonte's lodging, by telling him The first house in Westminster, according to
it would be as delicate a lodging as his own if it Stow's division, was Durham-House, erected by
were but in the Strand. Thomas Hatfield, Bishop of that see. Pennant,
As the line of the main street of the Strand is however, says, it was originally built by Anthony
intended to be here followed, the first object de Beck, in the reign of Edward I. On the site which in that direction merits attention, is the of this house stands the present Adelphi, and parish church of St. Clement Danes, which, on that of the stables belonging to it, a new Ex
though rebuilt, is, in point of foundation, of change was built in 1608, but it has since been great antiquity. The body of Harold, bastard puiled down, and the spot covered with houses. son of Canute, after it had been interred at
In the time of Henry III. William Marshall, Westminster, and by the order of Hardicanute, Earl of Pembroke, having among other estates Canute's successor, raken up and thrown into the given several tenements near Charing cross to Thames, was found by some fishermen, and at the prior of Rouncival, in the diocese of Pam length deposited here, for which reason, as some pelon, in Navarre, an hospital, or chapel of St. say, it was called St. Clemen! Danes, Harold Mary, was founded on the south side of the having been one of our Danish Kings. Some Strand between York-Buildings and Northumber I have related that it oblained that appellation on land House. In the large old map of London, account of a massacre of the Danes, which took engraved by Veriue, the spot where this hospital place here in the time of King Ethelrel, in restood is pointed out, which seems to have com venge for their cruelty to the Monks of Chertsey, menced nearly opposite St. Martin's-lane, and to and just as the Danes were meditating their rehave reached to Scotland Yard. Near this hospi. turn to their own country. From the church of tal, wben standing, and over against Charing Si, Clement Danes to Exeter Cange, no buildcross, was also an hermitage with a chapel. ing of any antiquity occurs to be noticed. The
This being the extent of the Strand towards i e of this last was, however, originally a part of Charing-cross on the south side, it will be ne Cuvent Garden, so called corrup ly, instead of cessary to return again to Temple Bar, and
Convent Garden, as having been the garden to a pursue the course on the north, or opposite side conven', or monastery. of the street to that already described ; in doing ! which, it will be found that the buildings were
ST. MARTIN'S CHURCH. neither so numerous nor so important as those | In the reign of Henry VIII the parish church on the south.
of St. Mirtin in the Fields, was, as its name iinIt is a remark of Strype's, that in former times ports, not surrounded, as ai presen', by a multithere was not, as now, a continued street of build Il plicity of buildings, and situated in a streer, but ings between London and Westminster, but much it actually stood in 'he open fields. St. Martin's vacant space of fields and open grounds between ; || lane leading up to it, though since converted. also at that time, the way along it was often | into a regular street, was also at that time nothing
No. XXI. Vol. III.
more than a country lane, probably with a hedge || unequivocally ascertained by the name of Charingon one, or both sides of it.
cross, which that part of the street still bears, in
allusion to a cross erected there by Edward 1. in KING's Mews.
the twenty-farst year of his reign, in memory of Next occured the Mews, so called because the || its being one, and indeed the last of those spots King's falcons were there kept by the King's where the body of his deservedly beloved and falconer. Of this term, now so common, few truly excellent Queen rested in its way to Westpersons, it is supposer, know the exact mean. minster Abbey for interment. A range of houses ing, it may be necessary to mention, therefore, | on each side, of what is now the street, was that Du Fresne, in his glossary, explaining the probably at that time the whole of the village. latin word Muta, says it is a disease to which the cross, when standing, was of white marble, hawks are subject, that the French call it La Mue; || and supposed to have been pulled down about that the hawks change or mute their feathers 1647. Soon after the restoration of Charles II. the every year, and that then they are so frequently present exquisitely beautiful statue of Charles I. sick as to be in danger of dying.
was erected on the precise spot where the cross Till the reign of Henry VIII. this building | had originally been. continued to be used for its original purpose, but in 1534, the King's stables at Bloomsbury, ||
SCOTLAND YARD. or Lomesbury, as it was then called, having been ii Below Charing-cross, on the left, or eastern accidentally burnt, the house called the Mews, | side, was a palace for the residence of the King near Charing cross, was rebuilt, and in the reign | of Scotland when he came to Westminster to of Edward VI, and Queen Mary, converted into attend the Parliament, of which it seems he was stabling.
considered a member, as instances occur a tong CHARING-CROSS.
the records of the Tower of writs issued to sum
mon him for that purpose. The spot still retains The site of the village of Charing, is even now | the appellation of Scotland Yard.
FAMILIAR LECTURES ON USEFUL SCIENCES.
FAMILIAR LETTERS ON PHYSIOGNOMY.
[Continued from Page 46.)
as though the edifice had been less elevatel and
less extensive. It is still her work, it is laboured WHY are you so eager in your inquiries ? || with as much care as her other productions, the what I now have to say is known to every body; proportions alone are not the same. for what is there new in this, that in general fat You will not wonder, when I tell you that people are good nåtured, and those who rise too strong and nervous persons do not possess a wide high above the common size, sisk often below the share of delicacy; since the matter which com. ordmary standard of wit. The good nature of poses their bodies, is more purely terrestrial, and the first proceeds from the tranquil state of their therefore less susceptible of feeling. Those whose minds; their blood flowing with less rapidity than stiff necks seem unwilling to bend, or whose air that of others, and increasing the weight of flesh seems repulsive, must wear a heart distended which buries the powers of their souls. As to with pride, or shut to the wants of their fellow those unproportionably tall, it often happens creatures. that they are not only deprived of wit, but of I must now keep my promise, and explore strength and activity; for whenever nature ex. | with you the mirror of the soul; an appellation tends her limits on the one side, she narrows which has been bestowed by the generality of them on the other. When she raises up a struc- || mankind upon the eyes, and which comes rery ture which towers on high, she has exhausted powerfully to the support of my system. But her ineans, and is unable to furnish it as splendidly | my subject seems so rich and extensive that I
stand bewildered in the midst of mental treasures, || large ones, the reason of its being more apparent and will therefore probably be able to snatch but || in them is, that it is collected into a smaller focus, a very small portion of the instruction they and therefore shines with more brilliancy. Perafford,
sons of a very lively temper have seldom received Of all the senses, sight is more particularly the large organs of sight from nature. The same chosen abode of the soul, where she keeps on the inferences may be drawn from the colour of the watch, and from whence, whenever she glances | eyes; those that are black, intimate that habitual over a ner object, she compares it with the lindolence and sloth cannot be ranked among the images of others which she has stored in her defects of their possessors; those that are blue, capacious bosom. Her most energetic language the contrary, but make up in tenderness what is that spoken through this organ, the force and they lose in activity. There are some which have Sweetsess of which, cannot be equalled by the no meaning, and among these we must distinguish powers or harmony of the voice. When our | the full from the cominon ones. The former, stock of expressions is exhausted, we have re which are in general short-sighted, conceal almost course to the silent eloquence of the eyes, which, I always a rich fund of wit and energy; the latter freed from the shackles of grammatical rules, ex prove a man to be deprived of the power of repress with one look, what numerous and com Aection, and to be endowed with few virtues, and plicated sentences would have failed to unfold. ll of all the sorts of eyes I have seen, they are the
What confirms my opinion of the importance worst, as they promise nothing. If their colour of the eyes in physiognomy is, that they never be blue especially, they will indicate cowardice can betray truth, however our inclinations may and weakness; but if black, they will signify na lead us to endeavour to conceal it. You have more than some ardour and activity. Clear eyes, surely remarked more than once, that many per-|| I always found attended with a clear and orderly sons answered no with their lips, while their eyes mind, while those which appeared uncertain, said yes, and their consequent way of acting though full of fire, belonged to men who loved proved that the yes was real, and the no but nothing. A person with huinid eyes, loves with seigned, to avoid importunitiez. Many people too much fervency; and one with eyes widely imitate the loud tones of passion, while their opened, loves every thing. I run a great risk of looks are begging your pardon ; should you pay offending many of your friends perhaps, were attention only to their threats you will be de they to see this picture, if so, let them know ceived, but should you examine their eyes, you that I am fair enough to acknowledge, that though will immediately discover their true feelings. such eyes as N- 's displease me, yet I dwell
It is perhaps prejudice which teaches us to secure upon his friendship; and that though conprefer large eyes to smaller ones, yet I believe tracted eyes are in my opinion a sure sign of a that the first indicate a more open disposition, 1 narrow mind, I deem Mr.D 's very powerful and that those that are rather prominent, forbode and comprehensive. more good than those that are sunk or covered.
E. R. It is false that little eyes contain more fire than
[To be continued.]
ON MUSIC. An Essay on Earl Stanhope's “ Principles of the Science of Tuning Instruments with fired
Tones." (Concluded from Page 323, Vol. II.)
At page five of the work before us, Earl | his system of simplification in organs. The reaStanhope proceeds to the explanation of that | son of its being heard in general only as a beating, beating which is heard when an interval is not and not as a distinct note, is its being too grave a perfectly in tune, and calls it " a kind of dis-note 10 be distinguished by our ear; and it agreeable sound, not very unlike the howling of would no longer remain a wolf, but become a a wolf at a distance," because tuners technically | beautiful phenomenon of nature, if its octave term it the wolf. But Dr. Chladni, in his va- and double octave could be added to it to render luable work on Acoustics, p. 208 (German), it a distinguishable note. And the reason why shews that the beating in question is nothing it cannot be heard at all, or only as a very faint more than that third sound which is generated || note, when an interval is perfectly in tune, is, by two others, and on which Tartini has founded because it is then so consonant to the two real his system of harmony, and the Abbé Vogler sounds of the intervals that it becomes nearly