PRIVATE ENDS. On Monday the 25th of April, 1825, in lecture at the Leeds Philosophical Hall, Mr. Michael Sadler, mentioned, as a strange instance of perverted taste, the case of a respectable gentleman in the county of Derby, who has a strong penchant for the halters in which malefactors have been executed, and who, having made friends with the Jack Ketches of all the neighbouring counties, has collected a large number of nooses which have done their duty, and which now hang as lines of beauty, with the names of their former tenants attached to each, round a museum in his house. He is known as "a cut and come again customer" to the finisher of the law in London. devote his energies, so long as they continued, to the improvement of mankind, we observe a growing indifference to passing scenes, and an elevation of mind that raised his contemplations to spiritual objects. Those religious impressions which he had imbibed early, and carried with him through life, were sharpened by the asperities of his situation. They became his solace under the frowns of the world, aud the staff of his old age. Disciplined in the school of affliction, he had been taught submission to the hand that inflicted it; and aware of the difficulties that beset a conscientious adherence to the path of duty, he made them a motive for vigilance, and frequent self-examination. In one of his latest publications, he says, 'I know not whether of the two is most difficult, in the course of a Christian's life, to live well or to die well.' In a former work, he has the following reflections suggested by a future state. I believe nothing would contribute more to make us good christians, than to be able to look ali things, causes, and persons upon here, with the same eyes as we do when we are looking into eternity. Death sets all in a clear light; and when a man is, as it were, in the very boat, pushing off from the shore of the world, his last views of it being abstracted from interests, hopes, or wishes, and influenced by the near view of the future state, must be clear, unbiassed, and impartial.' With a mind elevated above the grovelling pursuits of the mere worldling, and steadily fixed upon the scenes that were opening to him as he approached the boundaries of time, De Foe could not be unprepared for the change that was to separate him from his dearest connexions. The time of his death has been variously stated; but it took place upon the 24th of April, 1731 when he was about seventy years of age." Shall I, who, some few years ago, was less Young. The band once set off, the conductor leads, sometimes at a rapid, and sometimes a slow pace; some hold on, some hold off, some rest against the bars with breathless care, ready to start again, give chase, relief, or swell, as the notes prescribe. Feet correspond with heads, elbows with fingers, eyes with scores, gamuts, and themes. If some brows are knit and features distorted while charming the auditory, others are smooth and calm as the unruffled waters of summer. Their smiles are as the rays of the tones, reflected on admiring and sympathising listeners, whose spirits inhale the sweetness of the melody. A peep at an orchestra is irresistibly droll. In spite of subdued feelings, and of a nature kind to all science, the assemblage of vocalists, with voices raised to the highest pitch, arms fixed to the firmest purpose, the war of strings, carnage of rosin, escape of air, crashes of sound, and earnestness of all engaged in the conflict, is to me immeasurably aumorous. -An orchestra, like "Quarle's Em On the 28th of April, 1738, Shakspeare's tragedy of Julius Cæsar was performed at Drury-lane theatre, for the purpose of raising a subscription for a monument to his memory, which was afterwards erected in Westminster Abbey. The first collection of anecdotes of English composition is "Shakspeare's Jest Book," an elegant reprint, by Samuel Weller Singer, esq., of three tracts, containing 1. The Hundred Merry Tales," 1557. It is to this book that Beatrice alludes, when she asks Benedict, "Will you tell me who told you that I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the hundred merry tales?" 2. "Tales and Quicke Answeres, very mery, and pleasant to rede." 1556. It contains 114 tales. Pack clouds away, and welcome day, Wings from the wind to please her mind, Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my love good morrow, Wake from thy nest, robin-red-breast, Black Jird and thrush, in every bush, Thos. Heywood, 1638. April 30. THE MEADOWS IN SPRING. [For the Year Book.] These verses are in the old style; rather homely in expression; but I honestly profess to stick more to the simplicity of the old poets than the moderns, and to love the philosophical good humor of our old writers more than the sickly melancholy of the Byronian wits. If my verses be not good, they are good humored, and that is something "Tis a sad sighe To see the year dying; When such a time cometh, Into an old room, Beside a bright fire; Reading old things I never look out, Nor attend to the blast; Is the leaves falling fast: But, close at the hearth, Gallant chivalry! Then, with an old friend, But gladsome, gladsome Or, to get merry, We sing an old rhyme That made the wood ring again Sweet summer time! Sometimes! sometimes! And sometimes a tear Will rise in each eye, Seeing the two old friends, And ere to bed (in we, go we, Down by the ashes Thus then live I, Till, breaking the gloom Is with me in the room! Swallows soaring between : The spring is awake, And the meadows are green, I jump up like mad; Break the old pipe in twain; EPSILON. counts no bravery in the world like decency. The garden and bee-hive are all her physic and surgery, and she lives the longer for it. She dares go alone, and unfold sheep in the night, and fears no manner of ill, because she means none; yet, to say truth, she is never alone, but is still accompanied with old songs, honest thoughts, and prayers, but short ones; yet they have their efficacy in that they are not palled with ensuing idle cogitations. Lastly, her dreams are so chaste, that she dare tell them; only a Friday's dream is all her superstition; that she conceals for fear of anger. Thus lives she, and all her care is, she may die in the spring-time, to have store of flowers stuck upon her winding-sheet. * If men did but know what felicity dwells in the cottage of a virtuous poor man,-how sound he sleeps, how quiet his breast, how composed his mind, how free from care, how easy his provision, how healthy his morning, how sober his night, how moist his mouth, how joyful his heart, they would never admire the noises, the diseases, the throng of passions, and the violence of unnatural appetites, that fill the houses of the luxurious, and the hearts of the ambitious.- Jeremy Taylor. SUN RISE. A FAIR AND HAPPY MILKMAID. Is a country wench, that is so far from making herself beautiful by art, that one look of hers is able to put all face-physic out of countenance. She knows a fair look is but a dumb orator to commend virtue, therefore minds it not. All her excellencies stand in her so silently, as if they had stolen upon her without her knowledge. The lining of her apparel, which is herself, is far better than outsides of tissue; for, though she be not arrayed in the spoil of the silkworm, she is decked in innocence, a far better wearing. She doth not, with lying long in bed, spoil both her complexion and conditions; nature hath taught her, too immoderate sleep is rust to the soul; she rises, therefore, with chanticlere, her dame's cock, and at night makes the lamb her curfew. In milking a cow, and straining the teats through her fingers, it seems that so sweet a milk-press makes the milk whiter or sweeter; for never came almond-glove or aromatic ointment on her palm to taint it. The golden ears of corn fall and kiss her feet when she reaps them, as if they wished to be bound and led prisoners by the same hand that felled them. Her breath is her own, which scents all the year long of June, like a new-made hay-cock. She makes her hand hard with labor, and her heart soft with pity; and, when winter evenings fall early, sitting at ner merry April 30. Day breaks wheel, she sings defiance to the wheel of fortune. She doth all things with so sweet a grace, it seems ignorance will not suffer her to do ill, being her mind to do well. She bestows her year's wages at the next fair, and, in choosing her gerr.ents When the sun approaches towards the gates of the morning, he first opens a little eye of heaven, and sends away the spirits of darkness, and gives light to a cock, and calls up the lark to mattins, and bye-andbye gilds the fringes of a cloud, and peeps over the eastern hills, thrusting out his golden horns like those which decked the brows of Moses, when he was forced to wear a veil, because himself had seen the face of God; and still, while a man tells the story, the sun gets up higher, till he shows a full fair light, and a face, and then he shines one whole day, under a cloud often, and sometimes weeping great and little showers, and sets quickly; so is a man's reason and his life. --- Jeremy Taylor. Sun rises - gets Twilight ends Tooshwert flowers. * Sir T. Overbury. How lovely now are lanes and balks, CLARE'S Shepherd's Calendar. |
