July 3.
Dog days begin.
“All—for a Penny!”
On the third of July, 1751, William Dellicot was convicted at the quarter-sessions for Salisbury, of petty larceny, for stealing one penny; whereby his effects, consisting of bank-notes to the amount of 180l., and twenty guineas in money, were forfeited to the bishop, as lord of the manor; but his lordship humanely ordered 100l. of the money to be put to interest for the benefit of the wretch’s daughter; 20l. to be given to his aged father, and the remainder to be returned to the delinquent himself.[238]
The Regent’s Park.
A correspondent’s muse records an accommodation, which may be extended to other resorts, with the certainty of producing much satisfaction in wearied pedestrians.
CONGRATULATORY VERSES TO THE NEW SEATS IN THE REGENT’S-PARK, 1826 versus CHAIRS.
I covet not the funeral chair
Th’ Orlean maid was burnt in, when
Enthusiasts’ voices rent the air
To clasp their Joan of Arc again.
I, learned Busby’s chair, chuse not,[239]
Nor of a boat in stormy seas,
Nor on a bridge—the stony lot
Of travellers not afraid to freeze.
I covet not the chair of state,
Nor that St. Peter’s papal race
Exalted for Pope Joan the great,
But seek and find an easier place.
To halls and abbeys knights repaired,
And barons to their chairs retired;
The goblet, glove, and shield, were reared,
As war and love their cause inspired.
Saint Edward’s chair the minster keeps,
An antique chair the dutchess bears;[240]
The invalid—he hardly sleeps,
Though poled through Bath in easy chairs.[241]
The chairs St. James’s-park contains,
The chairs at Kew and Kensington,
Have rested weary hearts and brains
That charmed the town, now still and gone.
I covet not the chair of guilt
Macbeth upbraided for its ghost;
Nor Gay’s, on which much ink was spilt,
When he wrote fables for his host.
What of Dan Lambert’s?—Oberon’s chair?
Bunyan’s at Bedford?—Johnson’s seat?
Chaucer’s at Woodstock?—Bloomfield’s bare?
Waxed, lasting, ended, and complete.[242]
Though without back, and sides, and arms,
Thou, Regent’s Seat! art doubly dear!
Nature appears in youthful charms
For all that muse and travel here.
Canal, church, spire, and Primrose hill,
With fowl and beast and chary sound,
Invite the thought to peace, for still
Thou, like a friend, art faithful found.
A seat, then, patience seems to teach,
Untired the weary limbs it bears;
To all that can its comforts reach,
It succours through the round of years.
Whatever hand, or name, is writ
In pencil on thy painted face;
Let not one word of ribald wit
Produce a blush, or man disgrace.
“Busby’s Chair.”
Talking of this—a word or two on “Sedes Busbeiana.”
The humorous representation of “Dr. Busby’s chair,” (on [p. 34] of this volume,) personifying the several parts of grammar, as well as some of a schoolmaster’s more serious occupation, said to have been from an original by sir Peter Lely, is ascertained by the editor to have been a mere bagatelle performance of a young man some five-and-twenty years ago. It was engraved and published for Messrs. Laurie and Whittle, in Fleet-street, took greatly with the public, and had “a considerable run.”