beings like ourselves, and their turmoils afford no permanent satisfaction. As paintings they are imperfect; and, to avoid the offence of obvious faults, we admire limbs which happen to be true, the fall of a bit of drapery, dark shadows, and rich lights thrown in for effect. We have a conviction that all is not as it ought to be. Men and their works have no claims upon such intense observation as the landscape-painter bestows upon

nature.

Upon the card of Mr. W. A. Delamotte junior, drawing master of Sandhurst, who has occasionally favored me with several subjects for the Year-Book, there is the preceding sketch; which, as I have not the pleasure to know Mr. Delamotte personally, he will doubtless be surprised to find thus transferred. Musing upon his Vignette, as I sat in my viewless, sunless, town apartment, while he, perhaps, was sketching in the open country, I fell to imagining the sort of scenery commanded by the hill which the Berghemlike figure on the ass is descending—a view unaltered, probably,through centuries of time; although, under the variations of season and weather, continually changing to the eye of a landscape-painter. With one of Berghem's pictures before me I might have realised the scene; or perhaps one of his prints. There are at least forty masterly sketches of landscapes and cattle etched by himself; and at Dulwich, in the first room, there is a painting by him, opposite to another by Both, of a beautiful wood-scene. These two pictures are alone worth a walk from London to see. While looking at them it may be remembered that Berghem and Both were contemporaries and rivals. A burgomaster of Dort engaged Berghem to execute one of his finest works; at the same time he ordered a picture from Both; and to excite their emulation he promised a large additional sum for the best per

formance. The pictures were finished, and critically examined by competent judges, who pronounced them of equal merit; and the liberal Dutchman presented to each artist an equal sum beyond the stipulated price.

December 8.

8th December 1824. A letter of this date in the Times newspaper mentions, that on the Monday preceding, about two o'clock in the afternoon, the shock of an earthquake was very sensibly felt at Chichester, and many of the inhabitants ran into the streets in the greatest consternation, under the impression that their dwellings were actually falling. Bells in the houses were set a ringing, and the window-blinds unrolled; and in the market-places apples rolled off the stalls. One individual states, that he was sitting in a small room, and distinctly saw the walls move from south to north out of their perpendicular, and as instantaneously resume their position. The shock lasted from three to five seconds. It was felt at Arundel, Aldwick, Bognor, Emsworth, Havant, and places adjacent.

The

At Portsmouth, both light and heavy articles of furniture were in a tremor for about four seconds of time. floors seemed to heave up a little, and the windows shook as they do by means of heavy gusts of wind; bird-cages, and other suspended articles, oscillated some seconds after the shock had subsided. There was no report, nor any unusual appearance in the sky, or about the sun, at the time; but, during the morning, the sky had been filling with light clouds, and soon after the shock a stratum of low electric clouds sprung up with a wind from the S. W.; and the upper stratum changed from grey to red and lake colors, some time before the sun had set.

[For the Year Book.]

Few Londoners have not, at some time or other "been to Margate," yet, I think I may venture to assert, there are few of its visitors who have visited the pretty village of Birchington, although it is situated at a very short distance from that town. The general gaiety and amusements of Margate usually keep the cockney within its precincts. He has left London, and is at a "watering place," and that is enough for him, who when at home scarce dreams of venturing forth from the city's precincts, beyond the extent a shilling fare by the stage will carry him.

"Suburban villas, highway side retreats, That dread th'incroachment of our growing

streets,

Tight boxes, neatly sash'd, and in a blaze
With all a July sun's collected rays,
Delight the citizen, who gasping there,
Breathes clouds of dust and calls it country air."

About four miles west of Margate, on the coast, is situated the little village of places in the isle of Thanet, for its antiBirchington, remarkable, like most other quity. It is within the jurisdiction of the Cinque ports, and is an adjunct to the town and port of Dover. The parish is bounded by high cliffs of chalk, in which venient passages to the sea side. They are several large apertures, forming conare generally presumed to have been worked for the purpose of smuggling, much of which "fair trade" has been from time immemorial carried on in that neighbourhood.

The village is on an eminence, and in the midst stands the above church, the

summit of which commands delightful prospects of the surrounding country by sea and land, with a particularly fine view of Canterbury cathedral, which forms a conspicuous object, although twelve miles distant. Birchington church is dedicated to All Saints. It is a very handsome building, consisting of a nave and two aisles, with three chancels beyond, one of which formerly belonged to the ancient seat of Quexes in the same parish, and was kept in repair by the owners of that estate. Near the south chancel is the tower of the church, on which is a spire of much service to ships at sea, as a land mark, on account of its raised situation. In the tower are five bells. In the windows are the remains of painted glass sufficient to show that formerly there was much more. The interior of the church contains several ancient and very fine monuments, belonging to the Quexes, the Nenmes, and the Chrispes; and in the chancel of the Quexes are several grave-stones. There are brass plates, and other memorials in good preservation, with effigies of numbers of the above families, and other ornaments. The Quex estate is now in the possession of

-Powel, Esq., who resides there, and has lately raised a park, in the centre of which he has built a handsome tower, commanding a distinct view of the French coast. The church of Birchington was anciently one of several chapels belonging to the monastery of Monkton, about three miles distant. It is now the only one remaining of that religious house; but to this day the vicar of Monkton finds a curate to officiate in this church. The parsonage of Birchington, including that of Woodchurch, was many years ago let on a beneficial lease for a long term of years to the family of the Bushells, the living lessee is Benjamin Bushell, Esq., of Clare Court, Monkton.

December 12.

B. B. K.

On the 12th of December, 1653, Oliver Cromwell was declared protector, and it is a singular coincidence that James II. abdicated the throne on the same day, in the year 1688.

SORTES VIRGILIANE.

There is a species of divination performed by opening the works of Virgil, &c., and remarking the lines covered with

the thumb the instant the leaves are

opened, by which, if they can be interpreted in any respect to relate to you, they are accounted prophetic. This custom appears to have been of ancient very date, and was tried with Homer as well as Virgil. They who applied to this kind of oracle were said to try the Sortes Homerica, or Sortes Virgiliane. King Charles I. is said to have tried this method of learning his fate, and to have found the oracle but too certain. The

lines happened upon, were

At bello audacis populi vexatus et armis,
Finibus extorris, complexu avalsus Iuli,
Auxilium imploret, videatque indigna suorum
Funera; nec, cum se sub leges pacis iniquæ
Tradiderit; regno aut optatâ luce fruatur:
Sed cadat ante diem: mediâque inhumatus
arenâ.

Eneid, lib. iv., 1. 615.
Translation.

But vex'd with rebels and a stubborn race,
His country banish'd, and his son's embrace,'
Some foreign prince for fruitless succours try
And see his friends ingloriously die:
Nor, when he shall to faithless terms submit,
His throne enjoy, nor comfortable light,
But, immature, a shameful death receive,
And in the ground th' unbury'd body leave..

Dr. Welwood says that king Charles I. and lord Falkland, being in the Bodleian library, made this experiment of their future fortunes, and met with passages equally ominous to each. Aubrey, however, in his MS. on the Remains of Gentilism, tells the story differently. He says, "In December, 1648, king Charles I. being in great trouble, and prisoner at Carisbrooke, or to be brought to London to his tryal, Charles, prince of Wales, being then at Paris, and in profound sorrow for his father, Mr. Abraham Cowley went to wayte on him. His highnesse asked him whether he would play at cards to divert his sad thoughts. Mr. Cowley replied he did not care to play at cards, but, if his highness pleased, they would use Sortes Virgiliana (Mr. Cowley always had a Virgil in his pocket): the prince liked the proposal, and pricked a pin in the fourth book of the Ænied. The prince understood not Latin well, and desired Mr. Cowley to translate the verses, which he did admirably well.”

APPROACH OF CHRISTMAS.

A writer in the Worcester Journal says, "Happiness now spreads through the country like an epidemic, and all parties cordially agree in preparing to greet old Christmas with a hearty welcome. It is an extraordinary faculty of the human mind, that we are always enabled to garnish past occurrences with every pleasure and with every scene of joy in connexion with them; while every circumstance that might at the time have cast a momentary gloom over the scene is buried in convenient oblivion. I recollect, when I was quite a boy, with what delightful feelings

* Brand.

+ Dr. Forster's Perennial Calendar.

I accompanied my uncle to his parish church for the first time on Christmas day; with spirits light and buoyant, and free from every care; for the cares of a young heart are as traces upon the sea sand, which each returning wave of pleasure washes away. I never shall forget with what pleasure I gazed upon the villagers dressed out in their Sunday finery, with healthy smiling faces, as they gossipped in groups, or strolled along the well-known path to church. The scenery, too, was imposing. The church stands upon a high ground, and commands one of the finest prospects that the eye can behold. On the one hand, the river is seen appearing and disappearing from its dark deep channel, while, on the other, the ancient castle of the Nevilles stands in gloomy grandeur amidst boundless forests of oak, coeval with itself, and far to the west, the Border mountains tower like a ridge of clouds along the horizon. The church is one of those quaint old-fashioned buildings of grey stone so common to the north of England; and, as you enter the low portal, you are struck with the reverend appearance of the interior-the old oaken pews and benches, all cut and carved into most mysterious hieroglyphics, with a sprig of holly, emblematic of the season, stuck in the corner of each.-What heart does not dilate, with mingled pleasure and regret, at the recollection of the scenes of early life; of the many happy Christmas evenings spent in the society of those who were dearest to us upon earth; where the yule-clog blazed bright, and sent its cheering influence round the social circle; and where happiness was reflected from every face-the schoolboy, eager and impetuous in all his holiday games and tricks-the young and tender female, sitting in sweet retreating modesty, or blushing and smiling in all the charms of innocence and budding beauty-all remind us of 'days of other years. I cannot resist the impulse of saluting the joyful season as it passes, and heartily wishing all my kind readers a full enjoyment of its pleasures."