Chapter II: Part 2

Jonathan, despite his bald head, his diminutive stature, his ample pot-belly, and ampler nose, was a man of fine feelings. Nature was outraged when he became a barber. He most assuredly was never destined by her to shave beards, and manufacture perukes for heads more brainless, many of them, than his own blocks. He ought to have been a professor of metaphysics or logic in some famous university, such as Heidelburg, Gottingen, or Glasgow;--but why lament over cureless evils? it is sufficient to say he is a barber, and there is an end of the matter.

We must now return to Merton. His solitary walks on the opposite side of the street had not even, from the first, escaped the scrutinizing eyes of Mr. Hookey. No: he saw in the tall, pale, elegant, dark-haired student the victim of deep sensibility. From seeing him, he wondered, from wondering he loved him, from loving he adored him: he knew at once he was no common man. Having perused Byron's _Manfred_, he conceived him to be such another as that strange character; or he might be a second Lara; or, more, he might be, nay he was, a glorious genius, full of high imaginings. Little do we know what bright thoughts passed through the mind of the enthusiastic Hookey. He cursed his profession, which debarred him from the fellowship of such a man: he cursed his nose, which stood between him and the object of his adoration.

Day after day had Mr. Hookey noticed the accomplished, the highly-gifted Merton; but it was only upon this particular morning that the recognition was mutual. Merton, on turning his eyes by chance from the ground, looked to the opposite side of the street, and there beheld _a nose_. He then turned his eyes to the earth in his usual meditative mood; but, reflecting that a nose without an owner was rather a singular phenomenon, he looked a second time, and there, behind the nose, he saw a man; it was Mr. Hookey himself.

This was the first time that the melancholy and intellectual student reciprocated upon Hookey the attention which Hookey had hitherto bestowed exclusively upon him. No more was the barber's "sweetness wasted upon the desert air," but fell on one who knew how to appreciate it to its fullest extent. Merton stood stock-still, and gazed upon him with mute admiration. He was positively fascinated. The nose operated upon him like the head of Medusa, and almost turned him to stone. And Mr. Hookey was fascinated too. Merton also had become Medusafied, and exercised a petrifactive influence upon the barber. He was nailed fast to the threshold of his own door, and gazed upon his fancied personification of Lara and Manfred with an indomitable and resistless perseverance, which utterly confounded himself; while Merton, nailed alike fast to the opposite footpath, stood staring at his antagonist, or rather at his nasal protuberance. This impressive scene continued for several minutes, when Merton, regaining the power of locomotion, slowly approached the barber, his arms all the while crossed, and his eyes intently fixed upon the nose. Nine slow and awful steps brought him face to face with Hookey. The barber's eyes were fixed intently upon _his--his_ eyes upon the barber's nose. The scene was extremely dreadful; and Mr. Hookey, after vainly trying to keep his ground, retreated into the shop, still facing Merton, who kept advancing upon him as he receded. Back, step by step, went Hookey; forward, step by step, came Merton; each all the while eyeing the other with equal astonishment. The barber continued retreating, the other following him,--first through the shop, then through the kitchen, then through the parlour--the three apartments leading into one another. At last he got to the remotest corner of the parlour, and could get no farther. Here he paused, and Merton paused also. Still they gazed on each other,--the barber in the corner overpowered with amazement, and the student standing before him hardly less surprised. At last Merton broke silence in the following awful words,--"GRACIOUS HEAVENS WHAT A NOSE!" So saying, he retreated as slowly as he entered, leaving Mr. Hookey utterly stupified and bewildered. The sentence went like iron into the barber's soul; he felt it in all its bitterness.

It is almost unnecessary to say what an effect this scene had upon the highly-susceptible temperament of Merton. From that moment peace fled his mind. He went instantly home; but instead of devoting himself, as before, to those studies in which he delighted, and in which he was wont so highly to excel, he immured himself in his chamber, giving way to gloomy abstraction, and agonizing his spirit with painful and most distressing fancies. The great power of his imagination caused him, in a peculiar manner, to suffer from the remembrance of what he had witnessed; and, accordingly, his waking as well as his sleeping hours were haunted with visions of noses,--noses of stupendous size, which arose, like ocean islands, amid the gloomy tabernacle of his brain, and filled him with utter despair. At last, from bad to worse, he became the mere shadow of his former self, the wreck of what he was, and a picture of fallen and shattered genius. To drive away the hideous phantasmagorias that tortured him, as with the stings of demons, he had recourse to gin, and soon became a confirmed drunkard: the next stage was lunacy; and he was confined for fourteen months in Saint Luke's Hospital for the insane.

The fate of the barber was equally deplorable. The awful words pronounced by Merton may be considered his death-knell. They rang ever after in his ears; and, in a few weeks, his head was turned, his shop shut up, and himself sent to Bedlam. "_Gracious heavens, what a nose!_" This dreadful sentence--more dreadful than the hand-writing on the wall to Belshazzar,--haunted him by day and by night. Reason was dethroned, and "moody madness, laughing wild," was the result. Such are the frightful consequences of _extreme susceptibility_, against which the youth of both sexes ought to be constantly on their guard.

The worst remains to be told. These unhappy men were liberated from confinement about the same time, and both returned to Oxford. They seemed to have recovered their reasoning faculties, but the result showed that this was very far from being the case; for, happening to meet on the banks of the Cherwell, they attacked each other with such fury, that, like Brutus and Aruns, they were both killed on the spot,--the barber having been _burked_ in the encounter, and the student having died of a wound which he received in the throat by his antagonist's razor.--_Fraser's Magazine._

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THE LAST OF THE FAMILY.

I bid thee welcome to my father's halls,
But fled for ever is their wonted mirth,
Death hath been busy in these fated walls,
Casting dark shadows o'er our house and hearth,
The brave--the beauteous from their home have past,
And I remain of that loved band the last.

Thou wilt not now my gallant brothers greet,
Hiding amidst the glades with hound and horn,
Nor my fair sisters, warbling ditties sweet,
While gathering wild flowers in the dewy morn;
Evening will come, but will not bring again,
The song--the tale--the dance--the festal train.

I can but bid thee to my lonely room,
Where in fond dreams I pass my blighted youth.
Musing on vanished loveliness and bloom,
Man's dauntless courage, woman's changeless truth,
And scenes of joyous glee, or tranquil rest,
Shared with the early-lost--the bright--the blest.

Yet chide me not--mine is no impious grief,
Meekly I pray for Heaven's supporting grace.
And soon, I feel, his hand will give relief,
And the last sad survivor of her race
Quit this lone mansion for the home above.
Where dwell her happy family of love!

_Metropolitan._
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CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON.

_BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON_.

It is difficult to judge when Lord Byron is serious or not. He has a habit of mystifying, that might impose upon many; but that can be detected by examining his physiognomy; for a sort of mock gravity, now and then broken by a malicious smile, betrays when he is speaking for effect, and not giving utterance to his real sentiments. If he sees that he is detected, he appears angry for a moment, and then laughingly admits, that it amuses him to _hoax_ people, as he calls it, and that when each person, at some future day, will give their different statements of him, they will be so contradictory, that _all_ will be doubted,--an idea that gratifies him exceedingly! The mobility of his nature is extraordinary, and makes him inconsistent in his actions as well as in his conversation.

Byron spoke to-day in terms of high commendation of Hope's "Anastasius;" said that he wept bitterly over many pages of it, and for two reasons, first, that _he_ had not written it, and secondly, that _Hope_ had; for that it was necessary to like a man excessively to pardon his writing such a book--a book, as he said, excelling all recent productions, as much in wit and talent, as in true pathos. He added, that he would have given his two most approved poems to have been the author of "Anastasius."

From "Anastasius" he wandered to the works of Mr. Galt, praised the "Annals of the Parish" very highly, as also "the Entail," which we had lent him, and some scenes of which he said had affected him very much. "The characters in Mr. Galt's novels have an identity," added Byron, "that reminds me of Wilkie's pictures."

As a woman, I felt proud of the homage he paid to the genius of Mrs. Hemans, and as a passionate admirer of her poetry, I felt flattered, at finding that Lord Byron fully sympathized with my admiration. He has, or at least expresses a strong dislike to the Lake school of poets, never mentions them except in ridicule, and he and I nearly quarrelled to-day because I defended poor Keats.

On looking out from the balcony this morning, I observed Byron's countenance change, and an expression of deep sadness steal over it. After a few minutes silence he pointed out to me a boat anchored to the right, as the one in which his friend Shelley went down, and he said the sight of it made him ill.--"You should have known Shelley (said Byron) to feel how much I must regret him. He was the most gentle, most amiable, and _least_ worldly-minded person I ever met; full of delicacy, disinterested beyond all other men, and possessing a degree of genius, joined to a simplicity, as rare as it is admirable. He had formed to himself a _beau ideal_ of all that is fine, high-minded, and noble, and he acted up to this ideal even to the very letter. He had a most brilliant imagination but a total want of worldly-wisdom. I have seen nothing like him, and never shall again, I am certain. I never can forget the night that his poor wife rushed into my room at Pisa, with a face pale as marble, and terror impressed on her brow, demanding, with all the tragic impetuosity of grief and alarm, where was her husband! Vain were all our efforts to calm her; a desperate sort of courage seemed to give her energy to confront the horrible truth that awaited her; it was the courage of despair; I have seen nothing in tragedy on the stage so powerful, or so affecting, as her appearance, and it often presents itself to my memory. I knew nothing then of the catastrophe, but the vividness of her terror communicated itself to me, and I feared the worst, which fears, were alas! too soon fearfully realized."

Byron talked to-day of Leigh Hunt, regretted his ever having embarked in the "Liberal," and said that it had drawn a nest of hornets on him, but expressed a very good opinion of the talents and principle of Mr. Hunt, though, as he said, "our tastes are so opposite, that we are totally unsuited to each other. He admires the Lakers, I abhor them; in short, we are more formed to be friends at a distance, than near." I can perceive that he wishes Mr. Hunt and his family away. It appears to me that Byron is a person who, without reflection, would form engagements which, when condemned by his friends or advisers, he would gladly get out of without considering the means, or at least, without reflecting on the humiliation such a desertion must inflict on the persons he had associated with him. He gives me the idea of a man, who, feeling himself in such a dilemma, would become cold and ungracious to the parties with whom he so stood, before he had mental courage sufficient to abandon them. I may be wrong, but the whole of his manner of talking of Mr. Hunt gives me this impression, though he has not said what might be called an unkind word of him.

Much as Byron has braved public opinion it is evident he has a great deference for those who stand high in it, and that he is shy in attaching himself publicly to persons who have even, however undeservedly, fallen under its censure. His expressed contempt and defiance of the world, reminds me of the bravadoes of children, who, afraid of darkness, make a noise to give themselves courage to support what they dread. It is very evident that he is partial to aristocratic friends, he dwells with complacency on the advantages of rank and station, and has more than once boasted that people of family are always to be recognised by a _certain air_, and the smallness and delicacy of their hands.

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NEW BOOKS.

THE PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE OF A WOMAN OF FASHION.

[This work is, to our thinking, what it professes to be, an
actual correspondence, and from the pen of a lady who, as her
motto states--"writes of countries and their societies as she
finds them, and as they strike her imagination." There is much
good sense in her letters, and less aristocratic affectation
than might be expected. The subjects are of the most
miscellaneous description. Her pen is what the small critics
call eminently graphic: in short, the work is one of the
pleasantest of the season. To be more explicit, it consists of
letters written between June, 1814, and December, 1816;
dated from South Lancing, (near Worthing), Rouen, Paris, and
Brussels; and the writer's _domicile_, Hampton Court. The most
interesting portion of the work is the gossip it contains on
the _state of things_ in the French capital, on the return
of Napoleon, in 1815, and in Brussels, before and after
the battle of Waterloo. Nevertheless, as the whole is
indiscribably discursive, so must be our quotations.]

_Arundel Castle._--Arundel Castle did not gratify my expectations although the _coup d'oeil_, taking the structure _en masse_, is imposing, and it has an advantageous position on the banks of the river Arun. The Castle has undergone modern alterations in bad taste; the details are of that description of the ornamental gothic, which appear to me to throw severe criticism on the abilities of the architect; and, as a family residence, its interior is neither grand nor comfortable. From its commanding site and vicinity to the Roman villa, it was probably a Roman station previous to its becoming a Saxon residence. The walls and Norman gateway are fine. The massive keep, ponderous in stability, has the characteristic marks of the twelfth century, and is a noble ruin. It is called King Alfred's Keep; and with what hallowed feelings of reverence must a _locale_ ever be approached which bears the name of that illustrious monarch! The present occupants are an assemblage of German owls, of varied species; they look analagous with the venerable ruin.

The castle contains a few curious portraits of the illustrious race of Howard, which have an interest also from the distinguished parts that family have played in English history. There is one of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, so famous for his talents in state affairs, and for his bravery in the field. He is represented standing under a noble gateway. The picture is moreover valuable as a work of art.[6]

[6] Surrey's accomplishments and political talents, and his
bravery in the battle-field, cast additional splendour over
the house of Howard; and his violent death, another stain on
the tyranny of Henry VIII.

Some richly-wrought chalices[7] and censers, and other symbolic emblems of the Roman Catholic religion are there, but I imagine little prized by the present noble possessor; for at the age of twenty-seven, he became a convert to the Protestant faith. Whether conviction, or ambition to serve his country as a legislator were his motives, it is not for man to judge: but he is unlike his ancestor, Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, who, braving the power of Queen Elizabeth, disregarded her favour, and almost merited the title of martyr from the persecutions she heaped upon him for having abjured the Protestant worship, although educated in it by his father, the attainted Duke of Norfolk, in despite of Mary and her Spanish consort, who was likewise his sponsor.

[7] Several of these splendid emblems of the Roman Catholic
faith the late duke gave to his worthy kinsman, the present
possessor of C----y Castle; and they decorate his house
in London, amidst some _chef d'oeuvres_ of the old Italian
masters, which his good taste selected in Italy.

_The late Queen Caroline._--A servant entered in haste to induce me to go down to the sea-shore, and witness the embarkation of the P----ss of W----s. I immediately sallied forth, and found her r----l h----ss seated on the shingles, the _adopted boy_ at her feet; and on her left sat, with the skirts of his coat spread under his r----l mistress, to protect her from the stones, our old ally Sir W----m G----l. The frigate had arrived off Worthing some days previous, commanded by the handsome Captain K----g; but her r----l h----ss was deterred from embarking there by a numerous assemblage of John Bulls, their wives, and babes, who were so rude and impetuous, as to terrify and induce her to take refuge on a less populous shore. The lively and merry Lady C---- L----y, and the less pleasing Lady E---- F--s, with two foreign women, Major S--r, and the odious S----o, composed her suite. Her r----l h----ss was habited in light green cloth, embroidered in silver, a Prussian cap of green satin, with a splendid plume of green feathers: the crown of the cap was conical, giving her an air something resembling Mother Shipton. Terror and dismay were depicted on her countenance, with all the varieties of unhappy feelings--not a smile played over her features--her voice was tremulous, and her brow contracted into one deep furrow--she was highly rouged, and her eyebrows pencilled with a broad line of black chalk--never was any person's appearance less formed to inspire interest!

Sir W----m forgot his usual indifferent manner on seeing me, and put on one of his comic expressions. In the impulse of the moment, I was on the point of addressing him, but fortunately recovered my presence _d'esprit_, and did not commit such a breach of etiquette, although there was such a total deficiency of r----l dignity in the group that I might almost have been excused. In half an hour the cutter put off from the frigate: Captain K--g came from W---- by land, and apologized for the delay. Her r----l h----ss replied in a tremulous voice "Never mind!" A small group of persons kept a respectful distance and a profound silence. One old man blessed her and wished her a safe return--when her footman burst into tears. The ocean raged tempestuous, as if in the spirit of anger, and the boat could not reach the shore. Her r----l h----ss was obliged to enter a pony cart, and her coachman drove it with difficulty through the billows. With some exertion Captain K--g and his lieutenant dragged her unwieldy form into the barge: the P----ss went first, Lady E. F----s followed, and then the _tin box_: our knight went last; he came up to me, squeezed my hand affectionately, whispered a saucy adieu, and jumped into the boat. Such was the embarkation of the P----ss of W----s, and so passed away the illustrious consort of the heir apparent of these realms.

[WE SHALL RETURN TO THESE AMUSING VOLS.]

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EGYPTIAN PYRAMIDS AND HINDOO TEMPLES COMPARED.

The most common form of the Hindoo pagodas[8] is the pyramidal, of which one of the most remarkable is that of Chalembaram, on the Coromandel coast, about thirty-four geographical miles south of Pondicherry, and seven from the sea.

[8] The word pagoda is a corruption of _Bhagavati_, "holy
house," one of the several names by which the Hindoo temples
are known.

The whole temple, with its attached buildings covers an area of 1,332 feet by 936, (according to others 1,230 feet by 960,) and is surrounded with a brick wall[9] 30 feet high and 7 thick, round which there is another wall furnished with bastions. The four entrances are under as many pyramids, which, up to the top of the portal, 30 feet in height, are formed of free-stone, ornamented with sculptured figures. Above the portal, the pyramid is built of tiles or bricks, to the height of 150 feet, with a coat of cement upon it, which is covered with plates of copper, and ornaments of baked clay. On passing through the chief portico of the western propylaea, we see on the left an enormous hall with more than 1,000 pillars, which are above 36 feet high, and covered over with slabs of stone; this hall might have served as a gallery for the priests to walk about in, just like the hypostyle halls of the Egyptian temples. In the midst of these columns, and surrounded by them, is a temple called that of eternity. On the right or south side, we see the chief temple, with halls of several hundred pillars at the east and west end, also supporting a flat roof of stone. The pagoda itself rests on a basis 360 feet long and 260 broad, and rises to a surprising height. It is formed of blocks of stone 40 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 5 thick, which must have been brought, about 200[10] miles, as there are no stone quarries in the neighbourhood. The temple has a peristyle round it; and thirty-six of the pillars, which are placed in six rows, and form the portico, support a roof of smooth blocks. The columns are 30 feet high, and resemble the old Ionic pillar. The whole pyramid surpasses in size St. Paul's church in London, the latter being only 474[11] feet long and 207 wide. The roof of the pyramid has a copper casing covered with reliefs referring to mythical subjects; the gilding which was once on it is still visible. In the middle of the courtyard there is a great tank, surrounded with a gallery of pillars and also an enclosure round it of marble, well polished and ornamented with sculptures and arabesques. In the eastern part there is still another court surrounded with a wall, on the inside of which is a colonnade covered with large slabs of stone. Here also there is a pagoda, which is but little inferior in size to the larger one; but it contains only large dark chambers covered with sculptures, which have reference to the worship of certain deities, particularly Vishnu. The interior ornaments are in harmony with the whole; from the nave of one of the pyramids there hang, on the tops of four buttresses, festoons of chains, in length altogether 548 feet, made of stone. Each garland, consisting of twenty links, is made of one piece of stone 60 feet long; the links themselves are monstrous rings 32 inches in circumference, and polished as smooth as glass. One chain is broken, and hangs down from the pillar. In the neighbourhood of the pagodas there are usually tanks and basins lined with cement, or buildings attached for the purpose of lodging pilgrims who come from a distance. It is, however, often the case that the adjoining buildings, as well as the external ornaments in general, are in bad taste, and the work of a later age than the pagoda itself.

[9] The outer wall is brick cased with stone: the inner is all
of stone. The four sides are turned respectively to the four
cardinal points,--Heeren, India, p. 74.

[10] Fifty meilen.

[11] These dimensions are not exact, even making allowance for
Berlin feet.

The pyramidical entrances of the Indian pagodas are analogous to the Egyptian propyla, while the large pillared rooms which support a flat roof of stone, are found frequently in the temples of both countries. Among the numerous divisions of the excavations of Ellora, there is an upper story of the _Dasavatara_, or the temple of Vishnu's incarnations, the roof of which is supported by sixty-four square based pillars, eight in each row. This chamber is about 100 feet wide, and somewhat deeper, and as to general design may be compared with the excavated chambers of Egypt, which are supported by square columns. The massy materials, the dark chambers, and the walls covered with highly wrought sculptures; and the tanks near the temples, with their enclosure of stone, and the steps for the pilgrims, are also equally characteristic of a pagoda and an Egyptian temple. To this we may add the high thick wall, of a rectangular form, carried all round the sacred spot: it is, however, principally the massy structure of these surrounding walls which forms the point of comparison, as Greek temples also had a wall enclosing the sacred ground, and the temples and churches of all countries are as a general rule separated from unhallowed ground, if not by strong walls at least by some mark which determines the extent of the sacred precincts. Yet there is a further resemblance worth noticing between some of these Hindoo pagodas and the great temple of Phtha at Memphis. The Egyptian temple had four chief entrances, or propyla, turned to the four cardinal points of the compass; which is also the case with the pagoda of Chalembaram, with another at Siringam, and probably others also. The pagoda of Chalembaram, according to Indian tradition, is one of the oldest in their country, and this opinion is confirmed by the appearance of the principal temple contained within the walls; but other parts, such as the pyramidal entrances, the highly finished sculptures, and the chain festoons, must be the work of a later date. It seems probable then that this enormous religious edifice was the growth of many ages, each adding something to enlarge and perfect the work of former days.--_Lib. Ent. Knowledge._

* * * * *

I look upon indolence as a sort of suicide; for the man is
efficiently destroyed, though the appetite of the brute may
survive.--_Lord Chesterfield._
* * * * *

THE GATHERER

_A true Abernethian._--"An old country curate," says Zimmerman, "who had all his life resided upon a lofty mountain in the Canton of Berne, was one day presented with a moor-cock. A consultation took place in what manner it should be disposed of--at last it was agreed to bury it in the garden!"

_Epitaph on a notorious Liar_.

I always _lied_ and _lied_ till death,
But now I _lie_ for want of breath.

_Castanets_ are small wooden rattles, made in the shape of two bowls or cups, fitted together, and tied by a string, and then fastened to the thumbs. The fingers being rapidly struck upon them, a tremulous sound is produced, which marks exactly the measure of the dance. Something similar to this was the _crotalon_ of the ancients, who also made use of small cymbals in their dances and festivals in honour of Bacchus. It is probable, however, that they had their origin in the East, and were brought by the Moors into Spain. Here too they received their name _castennalas_, from being commonly made of the wood of the chestnut, (_castano_) or from their colour. They are still common in Spain, and here and there in the South of France. In this country they are common in stage dances only.

_Cannon_ were formerly dignified with great names. Twelve cast by Louis XII. were called after the twelve peers of France. Charles V. had twelve, which he called the Twelve Apostles. One at Bois-le-Duc is called the Devil; a sixty-pounder at Dover Castle, is named Queen Elizabeth's Pocket Pistol; an eighty-pounder at Berlin, is called the Thunderer; another at Malaga, the Terrible; two sixty-pounders at Bremen, the Messengers of Bad News.

_Dripping Rock, in India._--Sansadhara or the dripping rock, is a singular phenomenon, situated at the head of a dell, through which a rapid stream runs, between two lines of hills towards the valley of the Dhoon. It is an overhanging rock, about 50 feet high, through which water pours from above, in innumerable little streams, like a perpetual shower of rain! The never-abating action of the water has worn the rock into many fantastic shapes; and, crusting round the moss and fibres of the roots of trees, has given to it almost the appearance of a spar cavern. In several places the water has worn little reservoirs for itself, which are always full. It is cool, clear, and pleasant to the taste.--_Captain Skinner_.

_Catching Wild Ducks, &c. in India._--In the lower parts of Bengal, wild ducks, widgeon, and teal, are often taken by means of earthen pots. A number of these pots are floated amongst them in the lakes where they abound, to the sight of which they soon become reconciled, and approach them fearlessly. A man then goes into the water up to the chin, with one of these pots over his head, in the centre of which two small holes are made for him to see through; and when he gets into the midst of the birds, he pulls them by the legs under water, fastening them to a girdle round his waist.--T. GILL.

_Hampden._--Lord Nugent, in his _Memorials of John Hampden_, relates the attack of Rupert's troops upon the village of Chinnor. A local tradition of the affair has been related to me by an old inhabitant. In the room of a house, until lately occupied as a boarding-school, two of Rupert's soldiers are said to have evinced great brutality. On entering the house, they demanded a flitch of bacon, hanging up in the room; one of them held up a child which he had taken from a cradle, and crossing a sword over it, threatened its immediate destruction if their demands were not instantly complied with. There appear to have been sharp hostilities in the vicinity of Chinnor, and more particularly on the hills, as military buttons, sword handles, &c. and other vestiges of war are frequently found there.--W.H.

_Parody on Scott's Lines "Breathes there the Man," &c._

Breathes there a cit, with taste so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
"This haunch surpasses all the rest;"
Whose mouth hath ne'er within him burn'd,
Whene'er his footsteps he hath turn'd
From home, to Guildhall's civic feast?
If such there breathe, go mark him well--
For him no portly paunch can swell;
Large though his shop, his trade the same,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,
Despite his shop, his trade, his cash,
The wretch who knows not ven'son hash,
Living, shall forfeit civic fame,
And dying, shall descend with shame,
In double death, to Lethe's pools,
Despis'd by epicures and fools. REX.

_Alchemy and Printing._--Antimony, once celebrated in the laboratories of the alchemists, who hoped to discover in it the philosopher's stone, is now employed in the casting of types for printing.--There is much food for reflection in this curious fact in the history of science. How has this simple substance originated dreams of spell-bound ignorance, and realities of godlike intelligence. Nay, we are almost persuaded that the hopes of the alchemists were not altogether unfounded--that antimony is indeed what they hoped to find it--that the invention of printing was the finding of the philosopher's stone; and that we are at this moment enjoying ten-fold the advantages which the alchemists anticipated from their secret.--J.T.

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_Printed and published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic; G.G. BENNIS, 55, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers._

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