Read Ebook: The Mirror of Literature Amusement and Instruction. Volume 14 No. 379 July 4 1829 by Various

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Franklin, it will be recollected, wrote a humorous epitaph for himself; but his good taste and good sense showed him how unsuitable to his living character it would have been to jest in such a place. After all, his literary works, scientific fame, and his undoubted patriotism, form his best epitaph. Still, it may be thought, he might have been distinguished in his own land by a more honourable resting-place than the obscure corner of an obscure burying-ground, where his bones lie indiscriminately along with those of ordinary mortals; and his tomb, already wellnigh hid in the rubbish, may soon be altogether lost. One little circumstance, however, about this spot is very striking. No regular path has been made to the grave, which lies considerably out of the road; but the frequent tread of visiters having pressed down the rank grass which grows in such places, the way to the tombstone is readily found without any guide."

AN INDIAN SULTANA IN PARIS.

MAKING PUNCH.

LION-EATING AND HANGING.

HEAD WAGER.

The Novelist.

FAIR FANARIOTE.

In consequence of the numerous revolutions that have accompanied the fall of the Greek empire in Byzantium, most of the inhabitants of Fanari, near Constantinople, boast of being descendants of the dethroned imperial families; a circumstance which is probable enough, and which nobody takes the trouble to dispute, any more than the alleged nobility of the Castilian peasantry, or the absurd genealogies of certain great families.

In a retired street in Pera, a descendant of the Cantacuzenes followed the humble calling of a butcher; but, in spite of industry and activity, he had great difficulty in earning a sufficiency to pay his way, and maintain his wife and his only daughter, Sophia. The latter had just entered her fourteenth year, and her growing beauty was the admiration of the whole neighbourhood.

Fate, or, if you please so to call it, Providence, ordained that the poor butcher should suffer repeated losses, which reduced him to a condition bordering on beggary. His wife unfolded her distressed circumstances to a Greek, one of her relations, who was Dragoman to the French embassy, and who, in his turn, related the story to the Marquess de Vauban, the ambassador. This nobleman became interested for the unfortunate family, and especially for Sophia, whom the officious Dragoman described as being likely to fall into the snares that were laid for her, and to become an inmate of the haram of some Pasha, or even of a Turk of inferior rank. Prompted by pity, curiosity, or perhaps by some other motive, the ambassador paid a visit to the distressed family. He saw Sophia, was charmed by her beauty and intelligence, and he proposed that her parents should place her under his care, and allow him to convey her to France. The misery to which the poor people were reduced, may perhaps palliate the shame of acceding to this extraordinary proposition; but, be this as it may, they consented to surrender up their daughter for the sum of 1,500 piastres, and Sophia was that same day conducted to the ambassador's palace. She found in the Marquess de Vauban a kind and liberal benefactor. He engaged masters to instruct her in every branch of education; and elegant accomplishments, added to her natural charms, rendered her an object of irresistible attraction.

In the course of a few months the ambassador was called home, and he set out, accompanied by his Oriental treasure, to travel to France by land. To diminish as far as possible the fatigue of the long journey, they proceeded by short stages, and having passed through European Turkey, they arrived at Kaminieck in Podolia, which is the first fortress belonging to Russia. Here the Marquess determined to rest for a short time, before undertaking the remainder of his tedious journey.

Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte pour le sot, L'honn?te homme tromp?, s'?loigne, et ne dit mot;"

and he set off, doubtless with the secret determination never again to traffic in merchandize which possesses no value when it can be either bought or sold.

About two years after his marriage, the Count de Witt obtained leave of absence, and, accompanied by his wife, he visited the different courts of Europe. Sophia's beauty, which derived piquancy from a certain Oriental languishment of manner, was every where the theme of admiration. The Prince de Ligne, who saw her at the Court of France, mentions her in his Memoirs, in terms of eulogy, which I cannot think exaggerated; for when I knew her at Tulczin, though she was then upwards of forty, her charms retained all their lustre, and she outshone the young beauties of the court, amidst whom she appeared like Calypso surrounded by her nymphs.

Retrospective Gleanings.

JOHN LOCKE.

ENGLAND, 1679.

SPIRIT OF THE Public Journals.

NEW MAGAZINE.

Mr. Sharpe, the proprietor of the "Anniversary," has just published the first number of "The Three Chapters," which is one of the most splendid Magazines ever produced in this or any other country. It has a charming print by H. Rolls, from Wilkie's Hymn of the Calabrian Shepherds to the Virgin, which alone is worth the price charged for the number. Southey, A. Cunningham, L.E.L. and Hook, shine in the poetry and romance, one of the "Three Chapters," from which we have just room to give the following:--

EPITAPH IN BUTLEIGH CHURCH.

BY ROBERT SOUTHEY.

To the three brethren, Alexander's son With English feeling, and the deeper sense Of filial duty, consecrates this tomb.

LOVE.

A BALLAD, BY THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

O, Love's a bitter thing to bide, The lad that drees it's to be pitied; It blinds to a' the warld beside, And makes a body dilde and ditied; It lies sae sair at my breast bane, My heart is melting saft an' safter; To dee outright I wad be fain, Wer't no for fear what may be after.

I dinna ken what course to steer, I'm sae to dool an' daftness driven, For are so lovely, sweet, and dear, Sure never breath'd the breeze o' heaven; O there's a soul beams in her ee, Ae blink o't maks are's spirit gladder, And ay the mair she geeks at me, It pits me aye in love the madder.

Love winna heal, it winna thole, You canna shun't even when you fear it; An' O, this sickness o' the soul, 'Tis past the power of man to bear it! And yet to mak o' her a wife, I couldna square it wi' my duty, I'd like to see her a' her life Remain a virgin in her beauty;

As pure as bonny as she's now, The walks of human life adorning; As blithe as bird upon the bough, As sweet as breeze of summer morning. Love paints the earth, it paints the sky, An' tints each lovely hue of Nature, And makes to the enchanted eye An angel of a mortal creature.

Spirit of Discovery.

This curious lake is contained in a sort of cauldron of rocks amidst a pleasing landscape, and is of course the object of superstition. The taste of the water is uncommonly brackish. Mr. Alexander, who describes it, found by a rough analysis that 100 parts contain

Muriate of Soda 20 parts, Muriate of Lime 10 parts, Muriate of Magnesia 6 parts,

AN ILLUSTRIOUS SWINDLER.

Winter was only twenty-six, a handsome brown fellow, with arched eyebrows, long lashes, prominent nose, and rakish air. Winter had, moreover, that good carriage, and peculiar look, which belongs to an officer of light cavalry, and he, therefore, assumed a military costume, which best displayed the graces of his person. One day he was an hussar, the next a lancer, and then again in some fancy uniform. At will he was chief of a squadron, commandant, aide-de-camp, colonel, &c.; and to command more consideration, he did not fail to give himself a respectable parentage; he was by turns the son of the valiant Lasalle, of the gallant Winter, colonel of the grenadiers of the imperial horse-guard; nephew of the general Comte de Lagrange, and cousin-german to Rapp; in fact, there was no name which he did not borrow, no illustrious family to which he did not belong. Born of parents in a decent situation of life, Winter had received an education sufficiently brilliant to enable him to aspire to all these metamorphoses; the elegance of his manner, and a most gentlemanly appearance, completed the illusion.

Few men had made a better d?but than Winter. Thrown early into the career of arms, he obtained very rapid promotion; but when an officer he soon lost the esteem of his superiors; who, to punish his misconduct, sent him to the Isle of R?, to one of the colonial battalions. There he so conducted himself as to inspire a belief that he had entirely reformed. But no sooner was he raised a step, than committing some fresh peccadillo, he was compelled to desert in order to avoid punishment. He came thence to Paris, where his exploits as swindler and pickpocket procured him the unenviable distinction of being pointed out to the police as one of the most skilful in his twofold profession.

I thought I had him, and my disappointment was great; but I did not despair of catching my gentleman. Some time afterwards I learnt that he was to be at the Caf? Hardi, in the Boulevard des Italiens. I went thither with some of my agents, and when he arrived all was so well arranged, that he had only to get into a hackney coach, of which I paid the fare. Led before a commissary of police, he asserted that he was not Winter; but, despite the insignia of the rank he had conferred on himself, and the long string of orders hanging on his breast, he was properly and officially identified as the individual mentioned in the warrant which I had for his apprehension.

Winter was sentenced to eight years' imprisonment, and would now be at liberty but for a forgery which he committed while at Bic?tre, which, bringing on him a fresh sentence of eight years at the galleys, he was conducted to the Bagne at the expiration of his original sentence, and is there at present.

This adventurer does not want wit: he is, I am told, the author of a vast many songs, much in fashion with the galley slaves, who consider him us their Anacreon.

ANCIENT TYRE.

The Tyrians, although not so early celebrated either in sacred or profane history, had yet attained greater renown than their Sidonian kinsmen. It is useless to conjecture at what period or under what circumstances these eastern colonists had quitted the shores of the Persian gulf, and fixed their seat on the narrow belt between the mountains of Lebanon and the sea. Probably at first they were only factories, established for connecting the trade between the eastern and western world. If so, their origin must be sought among the natives to the east of the Assyrians, as that race of industrious cultivators possessed no shipping, and was hostile to commerce. The colonists took root on this shore, became prosperous and wealthy, covered the Mediterranean with their fleets, and its shores with their factories. Tyre in the course of time became the dominant city, and under her supremacy were founded the Phoenician colonies in Greece, Sicily, Africa, and Spain. The wealth of her merchant princes had often tempted the cupidity of the despots of Asia. Salmanassar, the Assyrian conqueror of Israel, directed his attacks against Tyre, and continued them for five years, but was finally compelled to raise the siege. Nabuchadonosor was more persevering, and succeeded in capturing the city, after a siege that lasted thirteen years. The old town, situated on the continent was never rebuilt; but a new Tyre rose from its ruins. This occupied the area of a small island, described by Pliny as two miles and a half in circumference. On this confined space a large population existed, and remedied the want of extent by raising story upon story, on the plan followed by the ancient inhabitants of Edinburgh. It was separated from the main land by an armlet of the sea, about half a mile in breadth and about eighteen feet deep. The city was encircled by walls and fortifications of great strength and height, and scarcely pregnable even if accessible.

SIR WILLIAM DEVEREUX,

The Gatherer.

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.

SHAKSPEARE.

STINGING MISTAKE.

THE LATE SIR HUMPHRY DAVY, BART.

THE SUPPLEMENT, containing Title, Preface, and Index to Vol. xiii. and a fine Steel-plate

PORTRAIT OF SIR HUMPHRY DAVY, BART.

With a copious Memoir of his interesting Life and Discoveries, Notices of his Literary Works, &c. is now Publishing.

s. d. Mackenzie's Man of Feeling 0 6 Paul and Virginia 0 6 The Castle of Otranto 0 6 Almoran and Hamet 0 6 Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia 0 6 The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne 0 6 Rasselas 0 8 The Old English Baron 0 8 Nature and Art 0 8 Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield 0 10 Sicilian Romance 1 0 The Man of the World 1 0 A Simple Story 1 4 Joseph Andrews 1 6 Humphry Clinker 1 8 The Romance of the Forest 1 8 The Italian 2 0 Zeluco, by Dr. Moore 2 6 Edward, by Dr. Moore 2 6 Roderick Random 2 6 The Mysteries of Udolpho 3 6 Peregrine Pickle 4 6

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