England?) lying about ten miles to the north of of a very different description,-one of the most London? It was a sultry day in July 18, the sky was one unvaried blue—the hedge-rows (maugre the heat) were bright green--and no noise seemed stirring This but the contented hum of myriads of insects. hush of Nature was not broken by a couple who advanced arm in arm, in mute enjoyment of happy thoughts- they had been married that morning, and were retiring from "populous cities" to this At quiet village, the birth-place of the bridegroom. last the lady stopped, as if to "still her beating mind" by repose. "When Portia's exulting heart," whispered she, "was beating high with the joyous sense of her own recent good deeds, she moralized every object into a magnified source of delight-the little candle' from I know her own hall shows like a welcoming star. not how it is, but methinks I never saw colour surpassing in vividness the tender green of yonder young oaks." “Singular enough,” replied her companion, " that those very trees should have attracted your peculiar notice. Would that the venerable planter of those oaks could witness this moment!-the hope that his spirit does behold and rejoice in his son's present felicity forms one of the many blessed visions of this day. Several years ago, when I was a little fellow no higher than one of these saplings, it was one of my beloved father's favourite amusements, during his daily walks in this vicinity, to thrust his walkingstick into the ground, and to drop into the hole thus formed, an acorn, supplied from a canvass bag, which it was the pride of his little companion to be permitted to hold while he stood by and watched the interesting operation. I may say that we have planted some thousands in various walks.” The touching association, thus added to the lovers' stock of pleasant feelings, will serve as an illustration of your remarks in the article above alluded to: "Every one should plant a tree who can. ✦✦✦ If a man cannot reckon upon enjoying the shade much himself, it is surely worth while to bequeath so pleasant a memorial of himself to others." Accept the compliments of the joyous season you have so delightfully treated of lately, and believe me, dear Indicator (for under that title, so long dear to me, allow me still to address you), Your constant reader and admirer, We hope the reader does not think us lost to all sense of shame in publishing so flattering a letter as this. All we can say is, that we could not help it; and that he must throw the first stony editorship at us, who could. Besides, it was one of the avowed objects of this Journal to open people's hearts, and make the community more sensible of one another's enjoyments. The sweet candour of the signature imaginative, and least advantage-seeking,-Mr Coleridge. The house in which Mr Coleridge died, in the "Grove," was one of a set that was built upon the ground formerly occupied by Southampton House. 1592. At Chantersier, near Digne, in Provence, Pierre Gassendi, an eminent mathematician and philosopher, reviver of the doctrines of Epicurus, which, however, he reconciled with belief in a divine superintending mind. The morals of Epicurus also he construed after their true fashion, and not in the spirit of the vulgar mistake which has since rendered the word Epicurus synonymous with a studier of the Gassendi was a walker in gardens, and palate. In his last illness fond of the society of his friends. he was bled beyond his strength, and, while sinking away into death, said to his amanuensis, "It is better, by this loss of strength, to sleep quietly in Christ, than to be taken off with more pain by suffocation." 1788. In Holles Street, Cavendish Square, George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron, a true poet and wit, whose poetry would have been more equal, and whose productions, altogether, of a turn less startling to those who wish to think well and hopefully of all things, had he not had the misfortune to be born in a rank that perplexed his aspirations, and of parents unfitted to develope his character. 24, 1712. Frederick the Second of Prussia, a great soldier and statesman, and mediocre man of letters, who singularly exalted the power and importance of his country in the midst of potent antagonists. -- 1732. At Paris, son of a watchmaker, Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, author of the celebrated comedy of Figaro,' an abridgment of which has been rendered more celebrated by the music of Mozart. He made a large fortune by supplying the American republicans with arms and ammunition, and lost it by speculations in salt and printing. His comedy is one of those productions which are accounted dangerous, from developing the spirit of intrigue and gallantry with more gaiety than objection; and they would be more undeniably so, if the good-humour and self-examination to which they excite did not suggest a spirit of charity and inquiry beyond themselves. a 1749. Charles James Fox, son of the first Lord Holland, an illustrious statesman, whose character is too nearly concerned with these times to be handled He was an amiable in this unpolitical Journal. man, of wise simplicity of manner, and a cultivaWe saw him, not long tor of elegant literature. before his death, standing in Parliament street, and making two young gentlemen laugh heartily, apparently with some story that he was relating to them. 25, 1627. At Lismore, in Ireland, of a noble alone would make the letter worth publishing, setting aside family, Robert Boyle, a celebrated chemical philoso its other merits. WEEK. BIRTH-DAYS AND OTHER ANNIVERSARIES. pher, not so happy in his ethics and moral reasoning. Swift bantered the triviality of his thinking in his famous Meditations on a Broomstick.' His want of a right Christian discernment in his Christianity may be illustrated (with the reader's leave) by the JANUARY 21. Eve of St Agnes. See the First following passage from the Indicator' : Article. -22, 1561. At York House (on the site of the present Buckingham street in the Strand), Francis Bacon, Viscount St Alban's, &c. The Father of Experimental Philosophy, -the liberator of the hands of knowledge. A great and wise man who would have been still wiser, and incurred no fall, and no shame of ingratitude to a fallen man (Essex), had he possessed heart enough to follow out the doctrines of his Essays, and set the simplicity of a sage above worldly cunning. Yet even in those Essays, admirable as they are, may be discerned the seeds of that mistake, even in the very passage where he seems to denounce it. (See the Essay upon Cunning.') Lord Bacon died like a proper experimenter, in consequence of his getting out of his carriage to make some observation respecting snow. It was upon Highgate Hill. A cold and fever seized him; he stopped at the house of Lord Southampton, and expired there after a few days' illness, on the spot which has since witnessed the death of a philosopher "The celebrated Robert Boyle, the chymist, was accounted, in his days, a sort of perfection of a man, especially in all respects intellectual, moral, and religious. This excellent person was in the habit of moralizing upon everything that he did or suffered, such as Upon his manner of giving meat to his dog,' Upon his horse stumbling in a very fair way,'Upon his sitting at case in a coach that went very fast,' and among other Reflections is one Upon a fish's struggling after having swallowed the hook.' It amounts to this; that, at the moment when the fish thinks himself about to be most happy, the hook 'does so wound and tear his tender gills, and thereby puts him into such restless pain, that no doubt he wishes the hook, bait, and all, were out of his torn jaws again. Thus,' says he, men who do what they should not, to obtain any sensual desires,' &c. &c. Not a thought comes over him as to his own part in the business, and what he ought to say of himself for tearing the jaws and gills to indulge his own appetite for excitement. Take also the following: Fifth Section-Reflection 1. Killing a crow (out of window) in a hog's trough, and immediately tracing the ensuing reflexion with a pen made of one of his quills. Long and patiently did I wait for this unlucky crow, wallowing in the sluttish trough (whose sides kept him a great while out of the reach of my gun), and gorging himself with no less greediness than the very swinish proprietaries of the feast, till at length my no less unexpected than fatal shot struck him down, and, turning the scene of his delight into that of his pangs, made him abruptly alter his note, and This method is not unusual to divine justice, change his triumphant chant into a dismal and tragic towards brawny and incorrigible sinners,' &c. &c. Thus the crow for eating his dinner, is a rascal worthy to be shot by the Honourable Mr Robert the said Mr Boyle, instead of contenting himself Boyle, before the latter sits down to his own; while with being a gentleman in search of amusement at the expence of birds and fish, is a representative of Divine Justice." noise. We laugh at this wretched moral pedantry now, and deplore the involuntary hard-heartedness, which such mistakes in religion tended to produce; but in how many respects should it not make us look about ourselves, and see where we fall short of an enlargement of thinking? -1759. On the banks of the Doon, in Ayrshire, Robert Burns, the poet of the song of Nature. He is so well known, and so particularly talked of at present, in consequence of Mr. Cunningham's edition of his Life and Works, that it is unnecessary to say anything further of him in this place. 27, 1756. At Saltzburg, in Germany, Johann Chrysostom Wolfgang Theophilus Mozart, the prince of dramatic musicians; wonderful for the endless variety and undeviating grace of his invention. Yet his wife said of him, that he was a still better dancer than musician! In a soul so full of harmony, kindness towards others was to be looked for; and it was When a child, he would go about asking found. everybody "whether they loved him." When a great musician, a man in distress accosted him one day in the street, and, as he had no money to give him, he bade him wait a little, while he went into a coffee-house, where he composed a beautiful minuet on the instant, and, sending the poor man with it to a music-seller's, obtained for him several gold pieces. This is the way that great musicians Their sensibility is their genius. rise. "CHARACTERS OF SHAKSPEARE'S PLAYS. BY WILLIAM HAZLITT. NO. III.-MACBETH. "The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name." MACBETH and Lear, Othello and Hamlet, are usually reckoned Shakspeare's four principal tragedies. Lear stands first for the profound intensity of the passion; Macbeth for the wildness of the imagination and the rapidity of the action; Othello for the progressive interest and powerful alternation of feeling; Hamlet for the refined development of thought and sentiIf the force of genius shown in each of these ment. works is astonishing, their variety is not less so. They are like different creations of the same mind, not one of which has the slightest reference to the rest. This distinctness and originality is indeed the necesShakspeare's sary consequence of truth and nature. genius alone appeared to possess the resources of nature. He is "your only tragedy-maker." His plays have the force of things upon the mind. What he represents is brought home to the bosom, a part of our experience, implanted in the memory, as if we had known the places, persons, and things of which he treats. Macbeth is like a record of a preternatural It has the rugged severity of an and tragical event. old chronicle with all that the imagination of the part can engraft upon traditional belief. The castle of Macbeth, round which "the air smells wooingly," and where "the temple-haunting martlet builds," has a real subsistence in the mind; the weird sisters meet as in person on the "blasted heath; " the "air-drawn dagger" moves slowly before our eyes: the "gracious Duncan," the "blood-boultered Banquo," stand before us; all that passes through the mind of Macbeth, without the loss of a tittle, passes through ours. All that could actually take place, and all that is only possible to be conceived, what was said and what what done, the workings of passion, the spells of magic, are brought before us with the same absolute truth and vividness. Shakspeare excelled in the openings of his plays; that of Macbeth is the most striking of any. The wildness of the scenery, the sudden shifting of the situations and characters, the bustle, the expecta tions excited, are equally extraordinary. From the first entrance of the witches and the description of them when they meet Macbeth "What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, the mind is prepared for all that follows. This tragedy is alike distinguished for the lofty imagination it displays, and for the tumultuous vehemence of the action; and the one is made the moving principle of the other. The overwhelming pressure of preternatural agency urges on the tide of human passion with redoubled force. Macbeth himself appears driven on by the violence of his fate, like a vessel before a storm; he reels to and fro like a drunken man; he staggers under the weight of his own purposes and the suggestions of others; he stands at bay with his situation; and from the superstitious awe and breathless suspense into which the communications of the Weird Sisters throw him, is hurried on with daring impatience to verify their predictions, and with impious and bloody hand to tear aside the veil which hides the uncertainty, of the future. He is not equal to the struggle with fate and conscience. He now "bends up each corporal instrument to the terrible feat;" at other times his heart misgives him, and he is cowed and abashed by his success. "The deed, no less than the attempt, confounds him." His mind is assailed by the stings of remorse, and full of "preternatural solicitings." His speeches and soliloquies are dark riddles on human life, baffling solution, and entangling him in their labyrinths. In thought he is absent and perplexed, sudden and desperate in act, from a distrust of his own resolution. His blindly rushing forward on the objects of his ambition and revenge, or his recoiling from them, equally betrays the harassed state of his feelings. This part of his character is admirably set off, by being brought in connection with that of Lady Macbeth, whose obdurate strength of will and masculine firmness give her the ascendancy over her husband's faltering virtue. once seizes on the opportunity that offers for the accomplishment of all their wished-for greatness, and never flinches from her object till all is over. The She at magnitude of her resolution almost covers the magnitude of her guilt. She a great bad woman, whom we hate, but whom we fear more than we hate. She does not excite our loathing and abhorrence like Regan and Gonerill. She is only wicked to gain a great end, and is perhaps more distinguished by her commanding presence of mind and inexorable selfwill, which do not suffer her to be diverted from a bad purpose, when once formed, by weak and womanly regrets, than by the hardness of her heart or want of natural affections. The impression which her lofty determination of character makes on the mind of Macbeth is well described where he exclaims, "Bring forth men children only; For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males!" Nor do the pains she is at to "screw his courage to the sticking-place," the reproach to him, not to be "lost so poorly in himself," the assurance that "a little water clears them of this deed," show anything but her greater consistency in depravity. Her strongnerved ambition furnishes ribs of steel to "the sides of his intent;" and she is herself wound up to the execution of her baneful project with the same unshrinking fortitude in crime, that in other circumstances she would probably have shown patience in suffering. The deliberate sacrifice of all other considerations to the gaining "for their future days and nights sole sovereign sway and masterdom," by the murder of Duncan, is gorgeously expressed in her invocation on hearing of "his fatal entrance under her battlements:" When she first hears that "Duncan comes there to sleep," she is so overcome by the news, which is beyond her utmost expectations, that she answers the messenger, "Thou'rt mad to say it!" and on receiving her husband's account of the predictions of the Witches, conscious of his instability of purpose, and that her presence is necessary to goad him on to the consummation of his promised greatness, she exclaims "Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, This swelling exultation and keen spirit of triumph, this uncontrolable eagerness of anticipation, which seems to dilate her form and take possession of all her faculties, this solid, substantial flesh and blood display of passion, exhibit a striking contrast to the cold, abstracted, gratuitous, servile malignity of the Witches, who are equally instrumental in urging Macbeth to his fate for the mere love of mischief, and from a disinterested delight in deformity and cruelty. They are hags of mischief, obscene panders to iniquity, malicious from their impotence of enjoyment, enamoured of destruction, because they are themselves unreal, abortive, half-existences, and who become sublime from their exemption from all human sympathies and contempt for all human affairs, as Lady Macbeth does by the force of passion! Her fault seems to have been an excess of that strong principle of self-interest and family aggrandisement, not amenable to the common feelings of compassion and justice, which is so marked a feature in barbarous nations and times. A passing reflection of this kind, on the resemblance of the sleeping king to her father, alone prevents her from slaying Duncan with her own hand. To be concluded in our next. They say, of Jupiter, that he can of himself dart favourable and propitious bolts, but must have the counsel and assistance of the twelve gods when he would throw those of danger and vengeance. 'Tis a great accompt, that the greatest of the gods, who, of himself can benefit the whole world, can destroy none without solemn deliberation. The wisdom of Jupiter himself is so wary of mistake, that, when there is a debate of vengeance, he must call a council to stay his arm.-Du Vaix. SPECIMENS OF THE WIT, HUMOUR, AND CRITICISM OF CHARLES LAMB. (To be continued till his Works are gone through.) BURIAL SOCIETIES.-I was amused the other day with having the following notice thrust into my hands by a man who gives out bills at the corner of Fleet market. Whether he saw any prognostics about me that made him judge such notice seasonable, I cannot say; I might, perhaps, carry in a countenance (naturally not very florid) traces of a fever which had not long left me. Those fellows have a good instinctive way of guessing at the sort of people that are likeliest to pay attention to their papers: "BURIAL SOCIETY. "A favourable opportunity now offers to any person of either sex, who would wish to be buried in a genteel manner, by paying one shilling entrance, and twopence per week for the benefit of the stock. Members to be free in six months. The money to be paid at Mr Middleton's, at the sign of the First and the Last, Stonecutter's street, Fleet market. The deceased to be furnished as follows:-A strong elm coffin, covered with superfine black, and finished with two rows all round, close-drove, best japanned nails, and adorned with ornamental drops, a handsome plate of inscription, angel above, and flowers beneath, and four pair of handsome handles with wrought gripes; the coffin to be well pitched, lined and ruffled with fine crape; a handsome crape shroud, cap and pillow. For use, a handsome velvet pall, three gentlemen's cloaks, three crape hat-bands, three hoods and scarfs, and six pair of gloves; two porters equipped to attend the funeral, as many to attend the same with bands and gloves; also, the burial fees paid, if not exceeding one guinea.” "Man," says Sir Thomas Brown, "is a noble animal, splendid in ashes and pompous in the grave." Whoever drew up this little advertisement certainly understood this appetite in the species, and has made abundant provision for it. It really almost induces tædium vitæ upon one to read it. Methinks I could be willing to die, in death to be so attended. The two rows all round, close-drove, best black japanned nails; how feelingly do they invite and almost irresistibly persuade us to come and be fastened down! what aching head can resist the temptation to repose, which the crape shroud, the cap, and the pillow present! what sting is there in death, which the handles with wrought gripes are not calculated to pluck away? what victory in the grave, which the drops and the velvet pall do not render at least extremely disputable? But, above all, the pretty emblematic plate, with angel above and the flowers beneath, takes me mightily. UGLY SUBJECTS.-How ugly a person appears, upon whose reputation some awkward aspersion hangs, and how suddenly his countenance clears up with his character. I remember being persuaded of a man, whom I had conceived an ill opinion of, that he had a very bad set of teeth; which, since I have had better opportunities of being acquainted with his face and facts, I find to have been the very reverse of the truth. That crooked old woman, I once said, speaking of an ancient gentlewoman whose actions did [not square altogether with my notions of the rule of right; the unanimous surprise of the company, before whom I uttered these words, soon convinced me that I confounded mental with bodily obliquity, and that there was nothing tortuous about the old lady but her deeds. This humour of mankind to deny personal comeliness to those with whose moral attributes they are dissatisfied, is very strongly shown in those advertisements which stare us in the face, from the walls of every street, and, with the tempting bait which they hang forth, stimulate at once cupidity and an abstract love of justice in the breast of every passing peruser; I mean the advertisements offering rewards for the apprehension of absconded culprits, strayed apprentices, bankrupts who have conveyed away their effects, or debtors that have run away from their bail. I observe that, in exact proportion to the indignity with which the prosecutor, who is commonly the framer of the advertisement, conceives he has been treated, the personal pretensions of the fugitive are denied, and his defects exaggerated. A fellow whose misdeeds have been directed against the public in general, and in whose delinquency no individual shall feel himself particularly interested, generally meets with fair usage. A coiner or a smuggler shall get off tolerably well. His beauty, if he has any, is not much underrated; his deformities are not much magnified. A run-away apprentice who excites, perhaps, the next least degree of spleen in his prosecutor, generally escapes with a pair of bandy legs; if he has taken anything with him in his flight, a hitch in his gait is generally superadded. AN APPETITE ILL-PROVIDED FOR.-You have seen, if you have ever passed your time much in country towns, the kind of suppers which elderly ladies in those places have lying in petto in an adjoining parlour, next to that where they are entertaining their] periodically-invited coevals with cards and muffins. The cloth is usually spread some half-hour before the final rubber is decided, whence they adjourn to sup upon what may emphatically be called nothing. A sliver of ham, purposely contrived to be transparent to show the china-dish through it, neighbouring a slip of invisible brawn, which abuts upon something they call a tartlet, as that is bravely supported by an atom of marmalade, flanked in its turn by a grain of potted beef, with a power of such dishling-minims of hospitality, spread in defiance of human nature; or rather with an utter ignorance of what it demands. Being engaged at one of these card-parties, I was obliged to go a little before supper-time (as they facetiously call the point of time in which they are taking these shadowy refections) and the old lady, with a sort of fear shining through the smile of courteous hospitality that beamed in her countenance, begged me to step into the next room and take something before I went out in the cold,—a proposal which lay not in my nature to deny. Indignant at the airy prospect I saw before me, I set to, and, in a trice, despatched the whole meal intended for eleven persons,-fish, flesh, fowl, pastry, to the sprigs of garnishing parsley, and the last fearful custard that quaked upon the board. I need not describe the consternation when, in due time, the dowagers adjourned from their cards. Where was their supper?—and the servant's answer, Mr had eat it all. That freak, however, jested me out of a good three hundred pounds a-year, which I afterwards was informed, for a certainty, the old lady meant to leave me. SINGULAR RECEPTION OF A CHALLENGE. THE practice of duelling (like all appeals to the animal instead of the intellectual part of us) appears going out of fashion, and various are the modes by which challenges are evaded or repulsed. It is a delicate point, and requires some address to manage it with credit. Bruce, the traveller, once experienced a singular baulk to his belligerent intentions. The "Lord of Geesh" (his Abyssinian title) was a tall fellow, both in body and mind, and we may gather from his own narrative, that he was of a domineering disposition. This was natural. He was taller and stronger than is common with men, sanguine, successful in his enterprises, much admired, almost as much (and we believe most unjustly) condemned and ridiculed; he possessed great acuteness, surprising energy, and but little reflection. Such is the very recipe for an overbearing disposition. Look at the portrait of the man, "Mr Bruce's stature was six feet four inches; his person was large and well-proportioned, and his strength corresponded with his size and stature. In his youth he possessed much activity, but in the latter part of his life he became corpulent; though, when he chose to exert himself, the effects of time were not perceptible. The colour of his hair was a kind of dark red; his complexion was sanguine; and the features of his face were elegantly formed. The general tone of his voice was loud, strong, and rather harsh on particular occasions; when dictating to an amanuensis, his articulation was somewhat careless and indistinct. His walk was stately, and his air noble and commanding. He was attentive to his dress, and had a particular art of wearing that of the nations through which he passed in an easy and graceful manner, to which he was indebted for part of his good reception, especially in Abyssinia." An Italian gentleman, the Marquis di Accoramboni, had married a Scotch lady whom Bruce considered as engaged (to himself. The Marquis protested he was ignorant of any such engagement, but refused to say so in writing; so Bruce challenged him. The challenge is singular for its length and grandiloquence. The answer to it puzzles conjecture; we cannot guess whether the Italian is afraid, indifferent, or sarcastic. Most probably he had a national regard for his safety, and an equally national sense of the ridiculous; and so his letter is a salvo for himself and a quiz upon Bruce. He apologizes, and makes his bow with a grimace of exaggerated deference to Bruce's regal bearing. We have retranslated the answer from the Italian, preserving the original idiom as much as possible, to convey a better idea of its spirit and peculiarity : Abbé Grant. THE CHALLENGE. SIR,-Not my heart, but the entreaties of my friends, made me offer you the alternative by the It was not for such satisfaction, that, sick and] covered with wounds, I have traversed so much land and sea to find you. An innocent man employed in the service of my country-without provocation or injury from me, you have deprived me of my honour, by violating all the most sacred rights before God and man; and you now refuse to commit to writing what you so willingly confess in words. A man of honour and innocence, Marguiso, knows no such shifts as these ; and it will be well for one of us to-day, if you had been as scrupulous in doing an injury as you are in repairing it. I am your equal, Marquis, in every respect; and God alone can do me justice for the injury which you have done me. Full of innocence, and with a clear conscience, I commit my revenge to him, and draw my sword against you with confidence, inspired by the reflection of having done my duty, and by a sense of the injustice and violence which I have suffered from you without any reason. At half-past nine, (French reckoning,) I come to your gate in my carriage; if it does not please you, let your own be ready; and let us go together to determine which is the more easy, to injure a man in his absence, or to defend it when he is present. THE ANSWER. SIGNOR CAVALIER,-When the marriage with Mad. M., now my wife, was in treaty, I was never told that there was a preventive promise to your Lordship, otherwise the affair would not have been so concluded. In regard to your Lordship's person;-on my honour I have in no manner spoken of it, your person not being known to me. So, if I can serve you, command me; and, with the most profound respect, I sign myself, Your Lordship's Al Signor Janne Bruce. A Recipe for a Fit of the Gout.-Posidonius discoursing in Pompey's presence was surprised with a violent fit of the gout, which in spite of its importunity he concealed, pursuing his discourse without any look or action to confess it. Pray tell me what new remedies had this philosopher found against its pain? what sear-cloths, what unguents against this gout?— only the knowledge of things, and the resolution of his mind. Du Vaix. CHARLES LAMB. We Such of our readers as have seen the following passages in the Athenæum, will pardon, for friendship's sake, our repetition of them in this Journal. wish that the LONDON JOURNAL should contain whatever has been said, in any quarters, calculated to do honour to our excellent friend, and to increase the desire of the reading public to become acquainted with him. "We sit down, with unfeigned pain, to put upon record the death of one of our most distinguished friends. Charles Lamb is dead! The fine-hearted Elia-the masterly critic-the quaint, touching, subtle humorist has left us. This time, we sigh to say it, his departure is, indeed, no fiction. He is gone; and with him are gone a world of grave and noble thoughts, innocent jests, delicate fancies. Never again will he set the table in a roar '-never again lift us out of the dull common-places of life by his new and pleasant speculations! light, ter. "If ever there was a man in whom the elements' were delightfully, although strangely mixed-in whom the minor foibles and finer virtues of our nature were bound up together, intimately-inextricably, it was surely he. They were deep-rooted, and twined together, beyond all chance of separation. Yet these foibles were, for the most part, so small, and were grafted so curiously upon a strong, original mind, that we would scarcely have desired them away. They were a sort of fret-work, which let in and showed the form and order of his characWe knew him, Horatio'-and having known him, it seems idle to say how truly and deeply we deplore his loss. Who, in truth, that had been his intimate, could speak of him but with affection and reverence? His prejudices, which were rather humours than grave opinions,-his weaknesses, which never hurt one human being except himself-may sometimes have been talked of-by strangers. But it was the pride of his friends, that they had opportunities of seeing deeper into his heart, and could feel and avouch for his many virtues. As a man, he was gentle-sincere-benevolent-modest-charitable towards others beyond most men. In the large sense of the word, he was eminently 'humane.' "Charles Lamb was born about the year 1774. His family were settled in Lincolnshire, as we learn by his reference to the 'family name'in a pretty sonnet. 'Perhaps some shepherd on Lincolnian plains, In manners guileless as his own sweet flocks, Received thee first, amid the merry mocks, And arch allusions of his fellow swains.' "In 1782, being then about eight years of age, he was sent to Christ's Hospital, and remained there till 1789. He has left us his Recollections' of this place, in two charming papers. These are evidently works of love; yet, being written with sincerity, as well as regard, they communicate to the One reader a veneration for the ancient school. wishes, whilst reading them, to muse under the 'mouldering cloisters of the old Grey Friars '-to gaze on the large pictures of Lely and Verrio-to hold colloquy with the Grecians'; and, above all, there springs up within us a liking—a sympathy (something between pity and admiration) for the poor Blue-coat boy, toiling for college honours, or wandering homeless through the London streets, a result, perhaps, of more moment to the author, than that of upholding the reputation of his favourite school. In his second paper, on this subject, and where he apostrophizes some of his contemporaries, the following passage has just met our eyes- Come back into memory, like as thou wert in the dayspring of thy fancies, with hope like a fiery column before thee the dark pillar not yet turned-Samuel Taylor Coleridge—logician, metaphysician, bard !’— It is thus that he invoked the most famous of his school companions-one whom he always held in close friendship, and who has died-how short a time!-before him. "It was not long after he quitted Christ's Hospital, we believe, that he obtained the situation of "The paper in which he has made grateful mention of this, and in which he bids farewell to the 'stately House of Merchants,' and to the partners of his toils (Farewell, kind Chairmian, Iras, long farewell!) should be hung up in the India House; to remind the merchants of one of their generous deeds; and to tell the young and repining clerk, that a man of rare genius once toiled (as he may do) thirty-six years within those walls. "During this period, he dwelt in various places; sometimes in London, sometimes in the suburbs. He had (amongst other residences) chambers in the Temple-lodgings in Russell street, Covent Garden (the first floor, over the shop now occupied by Mr Creed the bookseller)—a house at Islington, on the border of the New River-lodgings at Dalston (or Shacklewell)-at -at Enfield Chase-and, finally, at Edmonton, where he died. "Mr Lamb had one brother (whom he lost some years ago), and one sister; but he had no other certainly no other near relations. His brother, Mr John Lamb, of the South-Sea House, was considerably his senior. You were figuring in the career of manhood,' he says, addressing his brother, "When I was yet a little peevish boy.' "The reader may remember, that it was this brother (otherwise James Elia) who, upon seeing some Eton boys at play, gave vent to his forebodings in that memorable sentence, What a pity to think that these fine ingenuous lads in a few years will all be changed into frivolous members of Parliament.' His sister, between whom and our friend, there existed a long, deep, and untiring affection-and who is worthy in every respect, to have been the sister of such a man-survives him. They lived together (being both single)-read together-thought to gether, and crowned the natural tie that linked them to each other, with the truest friendship. He has written down her qualities—some of them at least-in a pleasant essay she is the Bridget Elia of ◄ Mackery End'; and she is the person, also, to whom one of his early sonnets is addressed, in which he reproaches himself for some little inequality of temper towards her If from my lips some angry accents fell, Peevish complaint, or harsh reproof unkind, 'Twas but the error of a sickly mind.' "Thou didst ever show' to me (he proceeds) kindest affection, Weeping my sorrows with me, who repay But ill the mighty debt of love I owe, Mary, to thee, my sister and my friend!' "Mr Lamb was the author of various works in prose and verse; viz. Specimens of the English Dramatic Poets,' 1808; The Works of Charles Lamb,' (2 vols.) 1818; 'Elia,' 1823; ‘The Last Essays of Elia, 1833; The Adventures of Ulysses,' and Tales from Shakspeare;' besides which, he made a second gleaning from the Old English Dramatists, under the name of The Garrick Papers' (published in Hone's Every-Day Book'); assisted his sister in her beautiful little book, called Mrs Leicester's School;' and favoured this Paper with a few of the later efforts, or rather sportings of his pen.* He died at Edmonton, on the 27th of December, in the sixty-first year of his age. He fell, accidentally, in the road, and having wounded his face considerably, an erysipelas ensued, which put a period to his valuable life." He wrote also some verses and theatrical criticisms in the Examiner,' and, we believe, in the Times.' THE illustrations are carefully drawn, and give a just We have said the system was to blame for this. We must not omit to mention in fit terms of praise a very excellent engraving, by Scriven, at the beginning of the Canterbury Pilgrims,' of the traditional portrait of Chaucer. MUSIC. The The Musical Library. No. X. Charles Knight. THERE is too great a portion of this month's part devoted to that prosaic style of music which so delighted our forefathers of the glee order. pieces, however, are good of their kind; there is the after dinner duet, Could a Man be Secure,' the pretty glee, Adieu to the Village Delights,' and a good madrigal, by Giacomo Gastoldi: we cannot, however, perceive any point of connection between the solid, heavy style of the madrigal, and the airy vivacity of Suckling's words; it reminds us of the organist, who scandalised his rector by playing the people out of church to the tune of Cherry Ripe.' Haydn's canzonet, The Wanderer,' is inferior to his others. The bolero, by Piantanida, with a melody for the voice, is a charming, playful bit of frolic, gay and light-hearted; it might be danced and sung by the tutelar fairy of a jessamine bower; we particularly like the pertinacious little runs backwards and forwards on the words 'Candore' and 'Fiore.' The IN consequence of our new-year's arrangements, of the increase of original matter, and of the re-publication of Mr Hazlitt's Shakspeare criticisms (now out of Chaucer's Canterbury Pilgrims. By Charles Cow- print), various estimable Correspondents are requested CHAUCER unillustrated by pictures would have been of the day are clearer and neater than his, while they touch. Of the pleasing effect, however, that may be 'Chaucer,' and the numbers of the Parterre,' are ness, to pardon us if we are compelled to delay the appearance of promised communications, perhaps, ultimately, to omit some of them. We do it with great unwillingand would fain, if we could, publish some extra sheets, on purpose to gratify both them and ourselves: but we mentioned the other day that we foresaw we should have difficulties in doing as we wished in this respect; and obstacles crowd upon us. In future we shall take care how we make promises which it pains us not to keep,-far more, we trust, than those to whom they are made. Certain of our friends will feel, on various accounts, what exceptions are necessarily to be made in the above announcement,-J. W. D. for one (if he is the same who writes to us about Lord Bacon). His verses were put away in some such very safe place that we cannot find them after long search, and must beg another copy,-which we reckon upon, Respecting Bacon, he will see what we have felt for reasons which will be obvious to his delicacy. ourselves obliged to say in our Week,' heartily agreeing, as we do for the most part, with his letter, and hoping to do what he desires. The signature to the Sonnet, published in our last week's Journal, should have been E. W., and not E. H. Our cordial Correspondent, ONE OF THE MILLION, is at liberty to keep the book he speaks of, till he and his friends have quite done with it, to the year's end, if they please. We owe this to others, being great keepers of books ourselves, as some other Correspondents have too much reason to know; but the volumes are safe with us, as they shall see. By a mistake, the Supplements were omitted in the Index or list of Contents to our first year's volume. The omission will be supplied at the end of the second. LONDON: Published by H. HoOPER, Pall Mall East, and supplied to Country Agents by C. KNIGHT, Ludgate-street. From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street. LONDON JOURNAL. TO ASSIST THE INQUIRING, ANIMATE THE STRUGGLING, AND SYMPATHIZE WITH ALL. WEDNESDAY, JAN. 28, 1835. ICE, WITH POETS UPON IT. Ir is related of an Emperor of Morocco, that some unfortunate traveller having thought to get into his good graces by telling him of the wonders of other countries, and exciting, as he proceeded, more and more incredulity in the imperial mind, finished, as he imagined, his delightful climax of novelties, by telling him, that in his native land, at certain seasons of the year, people could walk and run upon the water; upon which such indignation seized his majesty, that, exclaiming, "Such a liar as this is not fit to live!" he whipped off the poor man's head with his seymitar. It is a pity that some half dozen captives had not been present, from other northern regions, to give the monarch's perplexity a more salutary turn, by testifying to similar phenomena; as, how you drove your chariot over the water,-how lumps of water came rolling down-hill like rocks; and how you chopped, not only your stone-hard meat, but your stone-hard drink,-holding a pound of water between pincers, and pelting a fellow with a gill of brandy instead of a stone. For such things are in Russia and Tartary; where, furthermore, a man shall have half a yard of water for his beard; throw a liquid up in the air, and catch it a substance; and be employed in building houses made of water, for empresses to sit in and take supper. Catherine the Second had one. "It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice;" thus realizing Mr Coleridge's poetical description of the palace of Kubla Khan. Many a natural phenomenon is as poetical as this, and adjusts itself into as imaginative shapes and lights. Fancy the meeting an island-mountain of green or blue, ice, in a sunny sea, moving southwards, and shedding fountains from its sparkling sides! The poet has described the icicle, "Quietly shining to the quiet moon: But the icicle (so to speak) described itself first to the poet. Water, when it begins to freeze, makes crystals of itself; the snow is all stars or feathers, or takes the shape of flowers upon your window; and the extreme of solemn grandeur as well as of fairy elegance is to be found in the operations of frost. In Switzerland gulfs of petrified billows are formed in whole vallies by the descent of ice from the mountains, its alternate thawing and freezing, and the ministry of the wind. You stand upon a crag, and see before you wastes of icy solitude, looking like an ocean heaven-struck in the midst of its fury, and fixed for ever. Not another sight is to be seen, but the ghastly white mountains that surround it;-not a sound to be heard, but of under-currents of water breaking away, or the thunders of falling ice-crags, or, perhaps, the scream of an eagle. 'Tis as if you From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street./ No. 44. saw the world before heat moved it, the rough ma- "Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, SHELLEY. On the other hand, what is more prettily beautiful ("As hoary frost with spangles doth attire or the spectacle (in the verses quoted below) of a "Where through the ice the crimson berries glow." Our winters of late have been very mild; and most desirable is it, for the poor's sake, that they should continue so, if the physical good of the creation will allow it. But when frost and ice come, we must make the best of them; and Nature, in her apparently severest operations, never works without some visible mixture of good, as well as a great deal of beauty (itself a good). Cold weather counteracts worse evils: the very petrifaction of the water furnishes a new ground for sport and pastime. Then in every street the little boys find a gliding pleasure, and the sheet of ice in the pond or river spreads a joyous floor for skaiters. We touched upon this the other day in a "Now;" but now we have the satisfaction of being able to quote some fine verses of Mr Wordsworth's on the subject, which we happened not to have by us at the moment. They are taken from a new edition of Mr Hine's judicious and valuable Selections' from that fine poet, just published by Mr Moxon. They are the more interesting, inasmuch as they show Mr Wordsworth to be a skaiter himself,-no mean reason for his being able to write so vigorously. SKAITING. -In the frosty season, when the sun' We hiss'd along the polish'd ice in games And woodland pleasures,-the resounding horn, PRICE THREE HALFPEnce. Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud. Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars Glanced sideways, leaving the tumultuous To cut across the reflex of a star, The rapid line of motion, then at once Better for great poets to write in this manner, and show Nature's kindliness in the midst of what might seem otherwise, than to do as Dante and Milton have done, and add the tortures of frost and ice to the horrors of superstition. Be never their names, however, mentioned without reverence. The progress of things may have required at their hands what we can smile at now as a harmless terror of poetry. With what fine solid lines Milton always "builds" his verse: Beyond this flood a frozen continent Thither, by harpy-footed furies hal'd, At certain revolutions, all the damned Are brought, and feel by turns the bitter change The river of Oblivion. + "Serbonis says Hume (not the Historian, but the commentator on Milton)," was a lake of 200 furlongs in length and 1000 in compass, between the ancient mountain Casius and Damiata, a city of Egypt, on one of the more eastern mouths of the Nile. It was surrounded on all sides by hills of loose sand, which, carried into the water by high winds, so thickened the lake, as not to be distinguished from part of the continent, where whole armies have been swallowed up. Read Herodotus,' lib. iii., and Lucan's Pharsalia,' viii. 539, &c. Todd's edition of Milton,' vol. ii. p. 47. We add another note or two from Mr Todd's 'Milton,' to show what pleasant reading there is in these Variorum |