213 So round his melancholy neck (Poor Joe!) at set of sun, And gravely that was done; And she stood by, and laugh'd outright- But the day of retribution comes Must yield to wintry wind: For when she sought her bed of rest, And cloven, like a fawn's; His face and garb were dark and black, His pigtail out behind. His arms, though less than other men's, By no means harm-less were: Dark elfin locks en loek'd his brow- And ever, as the midnight bell Twelve awful strokes had toll'd, And ever and anon he cried, "I could a tail unfold !" And so her strength of heart grew less, And on her pallid cheek a small Red hectic spot was seen: You could not say her life was spent Without a spot, I wean. And they who mark'd that crimson light A light that shines, alas! alas! To light us to our tomb: They said 'twas like thy cross, St. Paul's, And so it prov'd-she lost her health, H. L. London. MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. In the annals of the world there have never been such rapid changes and such vast improvements as have occurred in this metropolis during the last seven years. We have no occasion now to refer to Pennant to produce exclamations of surprise at the wonderful changes in London; our own recollections are sufficient. Oxfordstreet seems half a mile nearer to Charing Cross than in the days of our youth. Swallow-street, with all the dirty courts in its vicinity, have been swallowed up, and replaced by one of the most magnificent streets in Europe; a street, which may vie with the Calle d'Alcala in Madrid, with the Quartier du Chapeau Rouge at Bourdeaux. or the Place de Louis Quinze at Paris. We must, for the present, overlook the defects of the architectural detail of this street, in the contemplation of the great and general improvement which its construction has produced in the metropolis. Other streets are proposed by the same active genius under which Regent-street has been accomplished; the vile houses which surrounded and hid the finest portico in London-that of St. Martin's churchare already taken down; a square is to be formed round this building, with two large openings into the Strand, and plans are already in agitation to lay open other Even the churches in the same manner. economical citizens have given us a peep at St. Bride's-being ashamed again to hide beauties which accident had given them an opportunity of displaying to greater advantage. One street is projected from Charing Cross to the British Museum, terminating in a square, of which the church in Hartstreet is to form the centre; another is n tended to lead to the same point from Waterloo-bridge, by which this structure, which is at present almost useless, will become the great connecting thoroughfare between the north and south sides of the Thames this street is, indeed, a desideratum to the proprietors of the bridge, as well as to the public at large. Carlton-house is already being taken down-by which means Regent-street will terminate at the south end, with a view of St. James's Park, in the same manner as it does at the north end, by an opening into the Regent's Park. Such is the general outline of the late and the projected improvements in the heart of the metropolis; but they have not stopped here. The king has been decora ting Hyde Park with lodges, designed by Mr. Decimus Burton, which are really gems in architecture, and stand unrivalled for proportion, chasteness, and simplicity, amidst the architectural productions of the age. Squares are already covering the extensive property of lord Grosvenor in the fields of Chelsea and Pimlico; and crescents and colonnades are planned, by the architect to the bishop of London, on the ground belonging to the diocese at Bayswater. But all suburban improvements sink into insignificance, when compared with what has been projected and attained within the last seven years in the Regent's Park. This new city of palaces has appeared to have started into existence like the event of a fairy tale. Every week showed traces of an Aladdin hand in its progress, till, to our astonishment, we ride through streets, squares, crescents, and terraces, where we the other day saw nothing but pasture land and Lord's-cricket-ground ;-a barn is replaced by a palace-and buildings are constructed, one or two of which may vie with the proudest efforts of Greece and Rome. The projector, with true taste, has called the beauties of landscape to the aid of architectural embellishment; and we accordingly find groves, and lawns, and streams intersecting the numerous ranges of terraces and villas; while nature, as though pleased at the efforts of art, seems to have exerted herself with extraordinary vigour to emulate and second the efforts of the artist. In so many buildings, and amidst so much variety, there must, consequently, be many different degrees of architectural excellence, and many defects in architectural composition; but, taken as a whole, and the short time occupied in its accomplishment, the Regent's Park may be considered as one of the most extraordinary creations of architecture that has ever been witnessed. It is the only speculation of the sort where elegance seems to have been considered equally with profit in the disposition of the ground. The buildings are not crowded together with an avaricious determination to create as much frontage as possible; and we cannot bestow too much praise on the liberality with which the projector has given up so much space to the squares, roads, and plantations, by which he has certainly relinquished many sources of profit for the pleasure and convenience of the public. It is in the contemplation of these additions and improvements to our metropolis, that we doubly feel the blessings and effects of that peace which has enabled the government, as well as private individuals, to attempt to make London worthy of the character it bears in the scale of cities; and we are happy now to feel proud of the architectural beauty, as we always have of the commercial influence, of our metropolis. * THE SPELLS OF HOME. There blend the ties that strengthen BERNARD BARTON, By the soft green light in the woody glade, By the bees' deep murmur in the limes, By the gathering round the winter hearth, In the parting prayer, and the kind "good-night;" In the mountain-battles of his land; Yes! when thy heart in its pride would stray, • Monthly Magazine. If there be one word in our language, beyond all others teeming with delightful associations, Books is that word. At that magic name what vivid retrospections of by-gone times, what summer days of unalloyed happiness" when life was new," rush on the memory! even now the spell retains its power to charm: the beloved of my youth is the solace of my declining years such is the enduring nature of an early attachment to literature. The first book that inspired me with a taste for reading, was Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress; never shall I forget the intense emotion with which I perused this pious and interesting fiction: the picturesque descriptions and quaint moralities blended with this fine allegory, heightened the enchantment, which to a youthful and fervid imagination, "unsated yet with garbage," was complete. From hence forward my bias was determined; the passion grew with my growth, and strengthened with my strength; and I devoured all the books that fell in my way, as if "appetite increased by what it fed on." My next step was,-I commenced collector. Smile, if you will, reader, but admire the benevolence of creative wisdom, by which the means of happiness are so nicely adjusted to the capacity for enjoyment: for, slender, as in those days were my finances, I much doubt if the noble possessor of the unique edition of BOCCACCIO, marched off with his envied prize at the cost of two thousand four hundred pounds, more triumphantly, than I did with my sixpenny pamphlet, or dog's eared volume, destined to form the nucleus of my future library. The moral advantages arising out of a love of books are so obvious, that to enlarge upon such a topic might be deemed a gratuitous parade of truisms; I shall therefore proceed to offer a few observa tions, as to the best modes of deriving both pleasure and improvement from the cultivation of this most fascinating and intellectual of all pursuits. Lord Bacon says, with his usual discrimination, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested;" this short sentence comprises the whole practical wisdom of the subject, and in like manner by an extension of the principle, the choice of a library must be regulated. "Few books, well selected, are best," is a maxim useful to all, but more especially to young collectors: for let it be remembered, that economy in our pleasures invariably tends to enlarge the sphere of our enjoyments. Fuller remarks, "that it is a vanity to persuade the world one hath much learning by getting a great library;" and the supposition is equally erroneous, that a large collection necessarily implies a good one. The truth is, were we to discard all the works of a mere diminutive temporary interest, and of solemn trifling, fashion is as little likely to be ceremonious in trifles, as to appear in the costume of sir Charles Grandison, or to take up the quarrels of lord Herbert of Cherbury. INDICATIONS. WRITTEN IN THE FROST. I know that the weather's severe, by the noses By the coxcombs that muff-led are smiling at roses Got into the cheeks, and got out of the air. The grumbles of men sliding over the flags; By the snow standing over the plant and the fountain; And I know, by the icelets from nature's own shops, By the fagots just cut, and the cutting wind's tone, That the weather will freeze half the world if it stops, If it goes, it will thaw t'other half to the bone. Philosophy may rave as it will," little things are great to little men," and the less the man, the greater is the object. A king at arms is, in his own estimation, the greatest king in Europe, and a German baron is not more punctilious than a master of the ceremonies. The first desire with all men is power, the next is the semblance of power; and it is perhaps a happy dispensation that those who are cut off from the substantial rights of the citizen, should find a compensation in the "decorations" of the slave; as in all other moral cases the vices of the individual are repressed by those of the rest of the community. The pride of Diogenes trampled on the pride Jan. 27. of Plato; and the vanity of the excluded may be trusted for keeping within bounds the vanity of the preeminent and the privileged. The great enemy, however, of etiquette is civilisation, which is incessantly at work, simplifying society. Knowledge, by opening our eyes to the substances of things, defends us from the juggle of forms; and Napoleon, when he called a throne a mere chair, with gilt nails driven into it, epitomised one of the most striking results of the revolutionary contest. Strange that he should have overlooked or disregarded the fact in the erection of his own institutions! Ceremonial is a true paper currency, and passes only as far as it will be taken. The representative of a thousand pounds, unbacked by credit, is a worthless rag of paper, and the highest decoration which the king can confer, if repudiated by opinion, is but a piece of blue riband. Here indeed the sublime touches the ridiculous, for who shall draw the line of demarcation between my lord Grizzle and the gold stick? between Mr. Dymock, in Westminster-hall, and his representative "on a real horse" at Covent-garden? Every day the intercourse of society is becoming more and more easy, and a man of ADOPTION. P. There is a singular system in France relative to the adoption of children. A family who has none, adopts as their own a fine child belonging to a friend, or more generally to some poor person, (for the laws of population in the poor differ from those in the rich;) the adoption is regularly enregistered by the civil authorities, and the child becomes heir-at-law to the property of its new parents, and cannot be disinherited by any subsequent caprice of the parties; they are bound to support it suitably to their rank, and do every thing due to their offspring.t A ROYAL SIMILE. "Queen Elizabeth was wont to say, upon the commission of sales, that the commissioners used her like strawberrywives, that laid two or three great strawberries at the mouth of their pottle, and all the rest were little ones; so they made her two or three great prices of the first particulars, but fell straightways."‡ New Monthly Magazine. + Ibid. This young woman sojourns in the neighbourhood of the ancient scene of the "Pretty Bessee" and her old father, the "Blind Beggar of Bethnal-green “His marks and his tokens were known full well, He always was led with a dog and a bell." Her name is Hannah Brentford. She is an inhabitant of Bunhill-row, twenty-four years old, and has been blind from the time she had the small-pox, two and twenty years ago. She sings hymns, and accompanies herself on the violin. Her manner is to "give out " two lines of words, and chant them to "a quiet tune;" and then VOL. I. |