Westminster abbey." He notices "The two ambassadors, whose remains were arrested for debt, lie in one of the chapels on the floor, in ragged and dirty coffins. They found a place in this temple of fame by cheating the world.-Entaring the eastern part of the abbey, a person, who, like Matthew, sat at the receipt of custom, demanded sixpence. Three or four strangers entering at that instant, he led us the same round, with the same set of words and tone of voice that serve for every day in the year. We came out together, but with different sensations; their appetites seemed satisfied, mine, from a taste, was become keener. I repeated the moderate fee, and observed to our conductor, I would take a second view without troubling him; and wished to be left to my own reflections. He willingly consented. I returned to the dead with that relish with which a man, recovering from sickness, returns to the living." For his remarks on the tombs, and especially the wax-work figures of deceased princes, there is not room in this place. After observing upon the effigy of Edward, duke of Buckingham, who died at Rome, in 1735, at the age of nineteen, he says,-" Three or four feet on the duke's right, stands a plain wooden two-armed chair. None of the furniture in this room is less than four or five hundred years old, except the duke, and this chair. The latter was made for the coronation of Mary II., wife of king William, in 1688. Near this chair stands the king's, in which all the English sovereigns have been crowned since Edward the confessor. Thereappeared no difference between them, but age. The antiquary, who values modern cash less than ancient timber, would give five hundred guineas for this venerable piece of lumber, which has supported the British crown, in its highest lustre, during seven hundred years; but, under Christie's hammer, at a common auction, it would not bring more than eighteen pence. Upon the frame of the royal chair, under the seat, lies the famous coronation stone, brought from Scone; which a Scot, with a serious face, will tell us, was Jacob's pillow, on which he lay all night in the open field, at Bethel. When authors disagree about a piece of antiquity, it is no wonder it shoots into fable. Upon this sacred stone, however, all the kings of Scotland were crowned, for more than a thousand years. Its being hard and cold might very well suit the

brawny posteriors of a northerr monarch; but modern luxury, as if to avoid these two insupportable evils, has placed it a foot below the seat, to make way for the velvet cushion. This curious stone, which possesses the same bewitching powers as the chair on which it lies, is called, by some writers, the royal throne of Scotland. Patten calls it a marble chair. The form, if it would bear the name, is flattish, about two feet long, one broad, and six inches thick. But it is without form or comeliness; is jagged in every direction, as if broken; is of a darkish color, as every stone must be which has lain five hundred years in the smoke of London; is near one hundred weight; and is much like the stones we often see in a rocky field. As the English and the Welsh had cut one another's throats for thirteen hundred years, Edward I. wished to promote a union by incorporating them into one people, which he wisely effected. The last peaceable five hundred years has proved the utility of the mea

sure.

The animosity between England and Scotland, and their dreadful devastations, which had continued a much longer space, excited the same wish, but the means to accomplish it were not quite so prudent. Even the man without knowledge, and without reading, will discover this animosity, by seeing Severus's, or Adrian's wall, or by only hearing the old song of Chevy chase.-All wise politicians, who mean to reduce a country begin with sowing dissentions. A nation firmly united is not easily reduced; but we have long been told, when divided against itself it cannot stand.-Edward, under the idea of assisting one of the parties, carried his victorious arms twice through Scotland, and reduced it to the utmost distress. In one of these excursions he seized the whole regalia, of great value, and brought it with him to London. As Edward the confessor's tomb was in high repute, and as it was the practice of that day to make costly offerings at his shrine, Edward offered at this altar the whole regalia of Scotland. Every thing of value has been long since carried away, as would the stone, had it been silver. Its base materials protect it."

The famous stone of Scone, though now removed to Westininster, and inclosed in a chair of wood, on which the kings of England and Scotland are still

crowned, is well known to have been an ancient stone of record, and most solemn designation, long before it was first placed at Scone. Buchanan affirms that it formerly stood in Argylshire; and that king Kenneth, in the ninth century, transferred it from thence to Scone, and inclosed it in a wooden chair. It was believed by some to have been that which Jacob used for a pillow, and to have travelled into Scotland from Ireland, and from Spain. But, whatever may be thought of such a tradition, it is clear that before the time of Kenneth, that is, before the year 834, it had been placed simply and plainly, as a stone of great import, and of great notoriety, in Argyleshire; and, on account of the reverence paid to it, was removed by Kenneth. A curious investigation of the history of the coronation stone may be seen in the Gentleman's Magazine, vols. li. and lii.

He says, "The British Museum justly stands in the first class of rarities. I was unwilling to quit London, without seeing what I had many years wished to see, but how to accomplish it was the question; I had not one relation in that vast metropolis to direct me, and only one acquaintance; but assistance was not with him. I was given to understand, that the door, contrary to other doors, would not open with a silver key; that interest must be made some time before, and admission granted by a ticket, on a Suture day. This mode seemed totally to exclude me. As I did not know a right way, I was determined to pursue a wrong, which probably might lead me into a right. Assiduity will accomplish weighty matters, or how could Obadiah Roberts count the grains in a bushel of wheat? By good fortune I stumbled upon a person possessed of a ticket for the next day, which he valued less than two shi!lings, we struck a bargain in a moment, and were both pleased. And now I feasted upon my future felicity. I was uot likely to forget Tuesday at eleven, December 7, 1784. We assembled on the spot, about ten in number, all strangers to me, perhaps, to each other. We began to move pretty fast, when I asked with some surprise, whether there were none to inform us what the curiosities were as we went on? A tall genteel young man in person, who seemed to be our conductor, replied with some warmth, What would you have me tell you every thing in the Museum? How is it possible? Besides, are not the names written upon many of them?' I was too much humbled by this reply to utter another word. The company seemed influenced; they made haste and were silent. No voice was heard but in whispers. The history and the object must go together, if one is wanting, the other is of little value. I considered myself in the midst of a rich entertainment, consisting of ten thousand rarities, but, like Tantalus, I could not taste one. It grieved me to think how much I lost for want of a little information. In about thirty minutes we finished our silent journey through this princely mansion, which would well have taken thirty days. I went out much about as wise as I went in, but with this severe reflection, that for fear of losing my chance, I had that morning abruptly torn myself from three gentlemen, with whom I was engaged in an interesting

conversation, had lost my breakfast, got wet to the skin, spent half a crown in coach-hire, paid two shillings for a ticket, been hackneyed through the rooms with violence, had lost the little share of good humor I brought in, and came away quite disappointed.-Hope is the most active of all the human passions. It is the most delusive. I had laid more stress on the British Museum, than on any thing I should see in London. It was the only sight that disgusted me.-In my visit to Don Saltero's curiosities at Chelsea, they furnished me with a book, explaining every article in the collection. Here I could take my own time and entertain myself."

LOVE CHARMS.

Theocritus and Virgil both introduce women into their pastorals, using charms and incantations to recover the affections of their sweethearts. Shakspeare represents Othello as accused of winning Desdemona "by conjuration and mighty magic."―

Thou has practised on her with foul charms; Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs or

minerals

That waken motion.

She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mounte banks.

In Gay's Shepherd's Week, these are represented as country practices. Strait to the 'pothecary's shop I went, And in love-powder all my money spent, Behap what will, next Sunday after prayers, When to the ale-house Lubberkin repairs, These golden flies into his mug I'll throw, And soon the swain with fervent love shall glow.

In Love Melancholy, by Dr. Ferrand, 8vo., Oxford, 1640, it is said, "We have sometimes among our silly wenches, some that out of a foolish curiosity they have, must needs be putting in practice some of those feats that they have received by tradition from their mother, perhaps, or nurse, and so, not thinking forsooth to doe any harme, as they hope, they paganize it

to their own damnation. For it is most certain that botanomancy, which is done by the noise or crackling that kneeholme, box, or bay-leaves make when they are crushed betwixt one's hands, or cast into the fire, was of old in use among the Pagans, who were wont to bruise poppy-flowers betwixt their hands, by this meanes thinking to know their loves:

and for this cause Theocritus cals this hearb Τηλιφιλον, quasi Δηλιφιλον, as it we should say tel-love." Speaking of the ancient love-charmes, characters, amulets, or such like periapses, Dr. Ferrand says, they are "such as no christian physician ought to use: notwithstanding that the common people do to this day too superstitiously believe and put in practice many of these paganish devices."

Miss Blandy, who was executed many years ago for poisoning her father, persisted in affirming that she thought the powder which her villainous lover, Cranston, sent her to administer to hin, was a "love-powder," which was to conciliate her father's affection to the captain. She met her death with this asseveration; and her dying request, to be buried close to her father, seems a corroborating proof that though she was certainly the cause of his premature death, yet she was not, in the blackest sense of the word, his wilful murderer.

into Ireland," 8vo. 1723, we read: "They In "The Comical Pilgrim's Pilgrimage

often use Philtres."

The following is found in Herrick's Hesperides,

A charm or un allay for love

If so be a toad be laid

In a sheep-skin newly flaid,
And that ty'd to man 'twill sever
Him and his affections ever.

SITTING CROSS LEGGED.

Sir Thomas Browne tells us, that to sit cross-legged, or with our fingers pectinated or shut together, is accounted bad, and friends will dissuade us from it The same conceit religiously possessed the ancients; but Mr. Park says, "To sit cross-legged I have always understood was intended to produce good or fortunate consequences. Hence it was employed as a charm at school, by one boy who wished well for another, in order to deprecate some punishment which both might tremble to have incurred the expectation of. At a card-table I have also caught some superstitious players sitting cross-legged with a view of bringing good luck.”*

I hope I have a due sense of the importance of historical painting-for I am told it is the highest class of the artyet, I never saw an historical picture, that I could walk away from, and say it was wholiy satisfactory as a subject, and perfectly well executed. Our first-rate pictures are designed to illustrate scripture, but they never rise to my notion of the scenes and characters they represent. The highest attempt of that kind which I know of is Jacob's dream by Rembrandt. That effort of the art I feel more than any other; and next to it, perhaps, the Adoration by the same artist, who imparts to the virgin, uncomely though she be, a mysterious veneration for her new-born child, unequalled by other masters. Still these are only endeavours towards effects upon the mind, which fall infinitely below our affections upon reading the brief account of the patriarch's vision, and the simple narrative of the country people's devotion. Painting is incompetent to pourtray Him who spake as never man spake; and hence every canvas on which He appears, fails in the chief

personage.

Pictures of events in ancient or modern history are the most esteemed by persons attached to the business and hurries of life; while a contemplative and reflective mind is better pleased with a picture of children; such as that, for instance, by Titian, in a smal. room at Knowle. Children are nearer to nature than to man. Until their intellect is sufficiently developed for his use and abuse they are innocent. He perverts their faculties; and then his love wanes into esteem for their applicable qualities. The man of the world sees nothing in growing trees but wood; and looks at his timber account with more pleasure than at his oaks and elms, till they are felled. On the other hand, the lover of nature has no earthly felicity but in the truth of nature, which man lives to belie. The skies and sunsets of Claude, the clouds of Wilson, the green lanes of Hobbima, the rustic scenery of Gainsborough, impart unmixed delight. We derive no such pure gratification from portraits, even of estimable persons, for something is sure to associate which reminds us of human infirmity. In historical pictures we have the actions of

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