ancient heathens, on the contrary, made use of cypress, which never revives after having undergone that process. The Jews' custom was for every one to pluck up a handfull of grass and throw it upon the grave of their departed brother, denoting that, though thus cut off, he should | spring up again in due season. How touching the simplicity of the memorial to his beloved, of the Swiss peasant, who carved upon her tombstone a rosebud, and wrote beneath it, "C'est telle qu'elle fut!" A still more affecting tribute, equally well authenticated, and true to nature, I add here, from my associated recollection of it in connexion with the latter. In September, 1837, a poor wanderer, a man of many sorrows, named John Shaw, and aged thirty-eight, returned after some years of absence, to his native place, Maryport, in Cumberland, hoping to find his mother. She was dead. On the following morning he was discovered lying lifeless in the churchyard, with his head resting upon her grave. The fatal instrument of recent suicide was still in his hand, and beside him lay a piece of slate, on which he had scrawled the following lines: you "Bury me beside her dust In whom I put my early trust, I had on earth no truer friend; STEADINESS OF AIM. We should consider this world as a great commercial mart, where fortune holds out to us various commodities; riches, ease, fame, knowledge, &c. Every thing is marked at a settled price. Our time, our labour, our ingenuity, are so much ready money, which we are to lay out to the best advantage. Examine, choose, compare, reject, but stand to your own decision, and do not, like children, when have purchased one thing, lament that you do not possess another which you did not purchase. There is no quality which so much dignifies human nature, as consistency of conduct. Even if a man's pursuits are unjustifiable, yet if they are maintained with steadiness and vigour, we cannot altogether withhold our admiration. It is the characteristic of a great mind to choose, on entering life, some one important object, and to pursue it with firmness and perseverance.-Mrs. Barbauld's Essay on Inconsistency in our Expectations. LUMINOUS APPEARANCE OF THE SEA. THE Scorching heat of the day within the tropics, is generally succeeded by delightful evenings and pleasant nights: no sooner has the sun reached within a few degrees of the western horizon, than groups of the most fan tastic clouds accumulate in the west, whose sides are tinged with the most beautiful colours. It is now that the awnings are furled, and all hands assemble on deck to inhale the cool evening breeze and behold the glories of the setting sun. On one of these delightful evenings our "gallant ship" was wending her way towards the equator; the sun was set, and we still lingered on deck, enjoying the cool breeze and the magnificent spectacle which the heavens presented, as each succeeding shade of darkness unfolded new constellations to our view. Our attention was soon directed to the sea around us, which began to assume a most brilliant appearance: the agitation of the waves by the wind gave out a thousand glow-worm-like particles whose light illumined the ocean; and whenever a wave was dashed aside by our ship, a glare of light shone on her tops and sails, sufficient to render the countenances of the topmen visible. The tracks of flying fishes and their pursuers were seen in the water, darting in every possible direction, while ever and anon a porpoise would shoot like an arrow across our track, leaving a train of fire behind him. This pleasing spectacle around us, gave rise to many ingenious theories as to the cause of the above phenomenon. One imagined the light to be emanations of rays from the moon,-another thought it arose from putrid animal matter held in suspension in the fluid, &c. A bucket-full of water was taken up from the sea, which, when agitated by the hand, or in any other way whatever, light was given out, which would disappear in five or six seconds, but would again be given out on re-agitating the water. It is reasonable to conclude from this experiment, that whatever particles gave out the light, it was necessary that some particular part of their surface should meet the eye of the observer. About half-a-pint of the water was taken from the bucket and put into a glass for examination. On the following day the water in question was submitted to the scrutiny of a powerful microscope, and some very minute semi-transparent globules were with some difficulty seen: these, from the ship's motion, were continually shifting their position; it was ascertained, however, that they sank in the portion of fluid under examination; they were consequently specifically heavier than sea water. This fact being ascertained, search was made in the bottom of the glass, and in a single drop of water taken up by the point of the finger, a bunch of at least twenty of the above-mentioned semi-transparent globules was found adhering together by a very fine membrane. These lay still, and could be distinctly seen under the magnifying power of the microscope. I concluded at once that the light given out proceeded from these globules, and that they were the spawn of some very minute inhabitant of the deep, probably of that numerous race of worms whose spawn adhere to, are hatched, enter into, and devour the bottoms of such ships as are not defended by copper sheathing. We must conclude that there are certain times when these eggs become specifically lighter than sea water, in which they rise to the surface, and it is then they give out their phosphoric light. I conceive this may take place by means of solar heat, when the embryo has arrived at a certain point; that one part of each egg is specifically lighter than the other part, (just as we find is the case with a fowl's egg that has undergone incubation) that the light proceeds from the under or heaviest part, because we found it necessary to agitate the water, and consequently to turn the spawn round, before light was given out at all. My microscope is furnished with a micrometer where one-sixteenth of a square inch is divided into six hundred and twenty-five squares, and I noticed that sixteen of the eggs or semi-transparent globules would cover one square of the micrometer. Consequently, it would require 160,000 of globules to cover a superficial inch, and sixty-four millions to make a cubic inch! The luminous appearance of the sea continued from sunset to four o'clock the next morning, when it became very faint: the ship had gone over a space of forty miles. Now a single drop of water was found to contain forty globules or eggs; what a prodigious number must have been spread over a track of only one hundred and sixty geographical miles, a space very small indeed compared to the ocean! The water which had been taken up for examination was kept till dark, in order to ascertain whether its shining qualities would be retained; but although thousands of globules remained at the bottom, no light could be produced, however much the water was agitated. ORIGINAL POETRY. THE CRUSADER. SOFTLY-lay him down Beneath this cedar's bough; Is welling from his side, Tear off his silken scarf and stanch Hark! hark! the trumpets sound, Sign of renewing strife, He stirs his mailed hands are clenched, He struggles into life. He gulps th' oppressive air, He gasps in vain for breath; One fearful struggle-all is o'er, The warrior yields to death. His arms cross o'er his breast, His battle-axe and shield, And this is glory-ye The proud of birth and name, Come hither, greathearts, gaze with me, For this ye barter life, Love, home, the social board; For this he left his father-land, To perish by the sword. In vain will his warder watch From donjon tower on high, With many an eager, anxious gaze, In vain will his bride look forth, At the mild moonlight hour, When the evening shades have vanished quite, And the dew is on the flower. He comes not, alas! for her; She droops in her hall of state, She speaks not of hope, for her young heart Is sad and desolate. At length the sad tale is told, Is told in a minstrel's strain, A convent's gate has closed on her, THE BURNING OF A WORLD.-It is not a little remarkable that the predicted conflagration of the earth and the circumstances attending, as is foretold in the ancient scriptures, are both natural and have a strict coincidence with scientific probability. None but the ignorant would conclude, that because the earth whirled round the sun in safety for some thousands of years, that therefore it must for ever go on undisturbed. There are principles in the atmosphere which engird the globe, of sufficient potency if properly proportioned, to feed a combustion that would liquefy the rocks and evaporate the seas,-the two gases which feed the intense flame of the compound blowpipe, and the component parts of the air we breathe. Besides the combustibility of the atmosphere, the earth may have central fires, that her mountain ribs may not be able always to imprison. Are not the ancient volcanoes the great arteries which lead down to this heart of fire? A GLIMPSE OF PELHAM AND POMPEII.-I dined yes terday with E. L. Bulwer, at his new residence in Charles street, Berkeley square, a splendid and classically fitted-up mansion. One of the drawings (rooms?) is a fac-simile of a chamber which our host visited at Pompeii; vases, candelabra, chairs, tables, to correspond. He lighted a perfumed pastile, modelled from Mount Vesuvius. As soon as the cone of the mountain began to blaze, I fancied myself an inhabitant of the devoted city; and, as Pliny the Elder, thus addressed myself to Bulwer, my supposed nephew,-" Our fate is accomplished, nephew. Hand me yonder volume; I shall die as a student in my vocation. Do you, then, hasten to take refuge on board the fleet at Misenum. Yonder cloud of hot ashes chides thy longer delay; feel no alarm for me; I shall live in story; the author of Pelham will rescue my name from oblivion." Pliny the Younger made me a low bow.-Miscellanies of the late James Smith. 66 Boileau said of himself he was eminent for two things; making verses, and playing at skittles." DEAN SWIFT'S BARBER.-Dean Swift's barber one day told the Dean he had taken a public house, and wanted some verses for his sign. "And what's your sign?" said the Dean. "Oh, the Pole and the Basin, Sir; but if your Reverence would supply me with a few lines by way of motto, no doubt it would bring me plenty of customers." Upon which the Dean took out his pencil, and wrote the following couplet, which long graced the barber's sign-board: "Rove not from pole to pole, but step in here, Where nought excels the shaving, but the beer." The shaver's reply, if not equally ready (which I do not vouch for,) was, according to F. M. as follows: "But I, the shaver you extol, Would gladly rove from pole to pole, SYCHEM. There is nothing in the Holy Land finer than the view of Sychem from the surrounding heights. As the traveller descends towards it from the hills, it appears luxuriantly embosomed in the most delightful and fragrant bowers, half concealed by rich gardens and by stately trees collected into groves, all around the bold and beautiful valley in which it stands. The traveller, directing his steps towards its ancient sepulchres, as lasting as the rocks wherein they are hewn, contemplates the spot where the remains of Joseph, of Eleazar, and of Joshua, were deposited. Sychem was considered as the capital of Samaria, whose inhabitants consisted principally of deserters from the Jews, and formed a separate sect in religion, called Samaritans. They held Jacob's well in high veneration: it is at a small distance from the town on the road to Jerusalem. It was the place where our Saviour revealed his dignity to the woman of Samaria, and has been visited by pilgrims and travellers in all ages. A church was formerly built over it.-Clarke's Travels. Nothing is more worthless to every purpose of utility than a mere smattering in the fine arts: to the wealthy and the unoccupied it may serve to beguile an idle hour, or to amuse leisure; but an indifferent artist, a mere tame and spiritless copyist, a tasteless and mechanical strummer on any instru ment, be the instrument what it may, is utterly valueless; such exhibitions delight only the doating parent, and will be endured by others but during the transient season of youth. Vol. I. of the New and Pictorial Series of the LONDON SATURDAY JOURNAL, price 6s. 6d. handsomely bound in cloth, may be had of all Booksellers. LONDON: W. BRITTAIN, PATERNOSTER ROW. Edinburgh: JOHN MENZIES. Glasgow: D. BRYCE. Dublin: CURRY & Co. Printed by J. Rider, 14, Bartholomew Close, London. No. 47. NEW SERIES.] SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1841. [PRICE TWOPENCE. CONTENTS. PAGR ILLUSTRATIONS OF HUMANITY. No. XLVII. THE OLD MAIDS. her own fault in refusing; never the fault of the male sex in not proposing, that she is not the wedded wife of some one swain or other, who would have been but too happy had she only vouchsafed her hand to him, in answer to his repeated and urgent applications. "EVERY young woman," says the proverb, "wishes That thousands in their progress to the garret have to be married." Never did common apothegm speak trampled on repeated matrimonial offers, is a fact which more truly. It is doubtful, indeed, whether there be none will dispute. They have rejected one suitor after an exception to its truth. We, at any rate, have never another, in the hope of getting some one more to their known an instance in which a young female has not taste, until they can get no offer at all. This may be at one time or other of her state of singleness, eagerly at times the result of a too fastidious taste; but there is aspired to the happiness of the married state. We reason to suspect, that it is more frequently the conseof the masculine gender are sometimes assailed with quence of too exalted an opinion of themselves. Far, doubts and misgivings as to the propriety, if not safety, very far be it from us to wish the fairer portion of our of submitting to have our necks thrust, by some reve- race to think too lowly of themselves; there is a merend trader in such matters, into the matrimonial dium between too high and too humble a notion of noose. And even when we muster up the requisite what they are, and what they have reason to expect courage to take some "lady fair" for better for worse, in the way of matrimonial offers; but we fear, that the it is often with a shrewd suspicion that we shall by- tendency is to run to the former extreme. This is to and-by awake some morning, and find that we are be regretted, because we are convinced that thousands in the latter predicament. Many men, on the other of females, naturally good-tempered, and in every hand, never even dream of entering the wedded state. respect qualified to have made the happy wives of With them the matter is not reduced to even a ques- happy husbands, and the happy mothers of happy tion of chance. If you admit that it is a lottery, they children, are doomed to pine and wither away in some will tell you that it is one of those lotteries in which lonely apartment, from this one error alone. there is nothing but blanks. Were it only a question of probabilities, were the chances but even one in twenty, that the thing might turn out well, they would incur the risk-on the same principle as the bold gambler plays at the long game of French hazard. But regarding as they do, the adverse issue of the venture, in the light of a moral certainty, almost as demonstrable as any proposition in Euclid, they would just as soon make up their minds to throw themselves from the top of the Monument, as they would to take to themselves a wife. With the other sex it is quite different. They may have their prejudices against particular men, just as they have their partialities in favour of others; and rather than marry a person to whom they have an individual dislike, they will sometimes refuse an offer, in the hopes that some more favoured person may come in their way; but as to any abstract repugnance to matrimony-as to any apprehensions or alarm respecting the results, philosophically considered, of a union with one of our sex, these are things with which they are practically unacquainted. In one word, the great difference between the male and female sex, in reference to the wedded state, is this,—that no woman ever existed who, unless labouring under some mental or bodily ailment, did not know of some member of our sex with whom she would have been happy to be united for life; while there are thousands among us who never could summon from the "vasty deep" of their minds, the amount of courage requisite to approach with any one the hymeneal altar. And yet though all women would marry if they could, and though many of them would take any one rather than remain single, nobody ever yet met with an old maid who had the candour to confess, that she had never received a matrimonial offer. It is always There is a hypothesis abroad in the world, that every Old Maid has a sour-looking countenance, and is of a peevish, penurious, discontented temper. Without wishing ourselves to be considered knights-errant on behalf of the single sisterhood, we boldly and unhesitatingly denounce this theory to be as unfounded as it is ungracious. The man must, indeed, have but a very limited range of acquaintance, who has never met with a greater or less number of Old Maids remarkable for the amiableness of their disposition, the generosity of their minds, and the good-natured expression of their countenances. If it were simply contended that the generality of Old Maids were what the body are above represented to be, that would be a very different matter; we should in that case assent to the justice of the position. Nor is it to be wondered that the Old Maid should be of a sour and discontented disposition; she is not in her proper sphere in society. Somehow or other, whether by her own folly, or by some untoward accident, matters not as regards the results-her destiny has been crossed; and the unpleasant consciousness of this is ever present to her mind. She feels that Nature intended her for the matrimonial, and most probably for the maternal state; and she broods in silence over her single and solitary position. Nor is this the only consideration that has a tendency to generate the sour, discontented disposition, so extensively characteristic of Old Maids. They are the unfailing theme of the world's sarcasm; and by none are they more largely ridiculed than by their own sex. An Old Maid is the butt of every ponderous joke which the vendors of fancied wit venture to crack. They are looked upon with an ill-conccaled feeling of disrespect, often degenerating into contempt. They are regarded, and often treated, indeed, as if they were a species of criminals—a class of persons having no claim to the ordinary courtesies of life. Every body's hand is raised against them; what wonder then that their hands should be raised against every body? It is doubtless true, that as a body, the single sisterhood are marvellously and incurably addicted to scandal. This is the mode by which they revenge themselves on the other portions of the community, for the insults and sarcasms which they are fated to encounter. And who can blame them, if they do have recourse to the only reprisals in their power, if they make use of the only means of retaliation which is accessible to them? Scandal is in most cases indispensable to the very existence of an Old Maid. She could not subsist without blackening the character of others, any more than she could without the air she breathes. The subjects of her scandal are usually her own sex; and generally speaking, they are married persons or marriageable girls. They sometimes vituperate and abuse each other; this, however, they do comparatively seldom. Of the art of talking scandal, the Old Maid is perfectly mistress; we have rarely known an Old Maid that failed in the effort. It comes to them as a matter of course. They have in all such cases a wonderful facility of language; and the grand occasions are always when around or at the tea-table. With cup and saucer in hand, they pour out scandal in torrents; and yet the fountain seems inexhaustible. They never tire-they never stop to rest. Rest, indeed, they do not require. It seems as if there were something as refreshing to their spirits in the abundant utterance of scandal, as there is to their physical nature in the decoction of the Chinese leaf, which they sip with so much ardent relish. THE FOOTSTEPS OF COWPER. BY SAM. SLY. MORE than twenty years ago, it was our good fortune to have lived in the neighbourhood of Olney,--that little outlandish, but now immortalised spot, "Where Newton laboured and where Cowper sung." The old folks and old books called it Oulney, but the moderns, ever alive to brevity and dispatch, drop the u and style it Olney. As the poet left it in 1795, so we must have found it in 1818 or thereabouts, with its butchers' shambles, round-house, stocks, and trees in the centre; where the rooks built their nests and gave noisy tokens of their "annuals," and where "One Bill Paybody, and not Joe Bradley, Hammered and stammered and shoed horses very badly." The town (?) was a long straggling place, with a horsepond at one end, and a bridge at the other-that neverto-be-forgotten wooden bridge, although since removed for one of stone, that the poet introduces in the fourth book of his Task "Hark! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, Yes, many times when we traversed this bridge from Newport Pagnel to Olney, we thought it wearisome, and could have wished it shorter. By-the-bye, now we_are 66 He comes, the herald of a noisy world, With spattered boots, strapped waist, and frozen locks, Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains, His horse and him, unconscious of them all." This man, or his successor, we well knew; his name long after the death of the poet, but instead of riding as was Dick Tyrell, and he continued "a man of letters" he became older, he walked; until he walked himself into the grave. And a capital walker was Dick Tyrell; for more than twenty years, he averaged twenty miles a day, Mondays excepted,-going from Newport Pagnel to Olney, and from Olney to Turvey, the locality of the Rev. Legh Richmond and his "Dairyman's Daughter," and back again. There were no professed teetotallers in those days, so that this careless and light-hearted man was a most inveterate soaker; and he must have drunk himself out of Buckinghamshire much earlier, had not his tramping proved in some measure a safety-valve; but we take shame to ourselves for seldom having passed through Newport, where he resided, without leaving him a trifle, which perhaps enabled him to repeat his dram, and strengthened the propensity. Poor old Dick Tyrell has long since been gathered to his fathers," and his son, whom we knew, who succeeded him in carrying the bag, is dead also. We dare say the old boy little thought his name was written in brass, by its entering into the imagination and mind's eye of the poet in his Winter Evening Task.' 66 This Newport Pagnel is about six miles from Olney, on from twins having been born there in the Siamese fashion, the great north road, and tradition says derives its name and christened Peg and Nell, since twisted and corrupted into Pagnell as above; but more probably from a family of consequence having settled down there, named De Pegnels. Here lived the Rev. W. Bull, the friend and correspondent of the poet, whom he describes as "a man of letters and of genius, lively without levity, and pensive without dejection;" but residing near the spot, and visiting it often, we heard many anecdotes which proved him to be of the Rowland Hill, William Jay, and Mark Wilks school. He kept a thriving establishment for the education of young ministers-half seminary, half college. He was in the habit of rising very early in the morning, and like all early risers, could not leave others in peace, so that he used to shout at the top of his lungs, which were by no means weak, (witness the name,) to the young students to the following effect, "Get up there, you Mr. Pomposity, you Mr. Finikin, and you Great Northern Bear,'' and other euphonious compliments that he thought applicable |