We had intended to embody some remarks upon the pretended journey of Caillié; but we find we have already occupied too much space in details necessary to make the geographical nature of the question well understood; and we shall content ourselves with remarking, that the discovery of the termination of the Quorra, or Niger, tends to throw a degree of improbability upon the narrative of that individual, which it will require much ingenuity to explain away. It is certain that the latitude given to Timbuctoo by the editor of those travels, and upon which sufficient ridicule has already been thrown in the Edinburgh Geographical Journal, may be considered as an error entirely of the editor's, who, by taking it upon himself, will relieve the burden of the mistake from the traveller, and thus lighten the weighty doubts which might in consequence bear upon the remainder of the details; for the situation of that city, as given by Jomard, is quite inconsistent with the situation it must be in, from the ascertained source, direction, and termination of the river. There can be no doubt but that a portion of the labours presented to the public as the travels of Caillié are founded upon valid documents, wherever obtained, and probably most of the errors are those of the editor. But though authorities can be found in support of the division of the Quorra into two branches; one of which, the Joliba, flows to the north-west, and the other in an almost opposite direction,—fact which has no analogy in geography, and, what is better, no existence in nature; yet no authority can be found for placing Timbuctoo on a river flowing north from the Niger.
The details which will be given to us by the results of this successful expedition will, then, not only be of assistance in allying the existing condition of things with the knowledge of the ancients, but it will enable us to reduce to a few facts the many contradictory statements which have originated in the variety of the sources of information, and the individual and national rivalry which the interest of the question gave birth to among the geographers of the present day. It will also be of importance, as it was connected with a great question, as to the possibility of a large river traversing an extensive continent, or losing itself in a marsh or lake, or being buried in the extensive sands of the desert. By laying open the interior of Africa to us, it will increase our political strength and commercial advantages on those coasts;—it will enable us to put into practice an amelioration long contemplated by Mr. Barrow, in the choice of our settlements on those coasts;—it will place the greatest and most important vent of the barbarous and inhuman traffic of negroes in our possession; and it will enable us to diffuse the benefits of superior intelligence among an ignorant and suffering people.—Literary Gazette.
SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.
DISAGREEABLES.
BY THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.
"For four things the earth is disquieted, and five which it cannot bear." AGUR.
This world is a delightful place to dwell in,
And many sweet and lovely things are in it;
Yet there are sundry, at the which I have
A natural dislike, against all reason.
I never like A TAILOR. Yet no man
Likes a new coat or inexpressibles
Better than I do—few, I think, so well:
I can't account for this. The tailor is,
A far more useful member of society
Than is a poet;—then his sprightly wit,
His glee, his humour, and his happy mind
Entitle him to fair esteem. Allowed.
But then, his self-sufficiency;—his shape
So like a frame, whereon to hang a suit
Of dandy clothes;—his small straight back and arms,
His thick bluff ankles, and his supple knees,
Plague on't!—'Tis wrong—I do not like a tailor.
AN OLD BLUE-STOCKING MAID! Oh! that's a being,
That's hardly to be borne. Her saffron hue,
Her thinnish lips, close primmed as they were sewn
Up by a milliner, and made water-proof,
To guard the fount of wisdom that's within.
Her borrowed locks, of dry and withered hue,
Her straggling beard of ill-condition'd hairs,
And then her jaws of wise and formal cast;
Chat-chat—chat-chat! Grand shrewd remarks!
That may have meaning, may have none for me.
I like the creature so supremely ill,
I never listen, never calculate.
I know this is ungenerous and unjust:
I cannot help it; for I do dislike
An old blue-stocking maid even to extremity.
I do protest I'd rather kiss a tailor.
A GREEDY EATER! He is worst of all.
The gourmand bolts and bolts, and smacks his chops—
Eyes every dish that enters, with a stare
Of greed and terror, lest one thing go by him.
The glances that he casts along the board,
At every slice that's carved, have that in them
Beyond description. I would rather dine
Beside an ox—yea, share his cog of draff;
Or with a dog, if he'd keep his own side;
Than with a glutton on the rarest food.
A thousand times I've dined upon the waste,
On dry-pease bannock, by the silver spring.
O, it was sweet—was healthful—had a zest;
Which at the paste my palate ne'er enjoyed.
My bonnet laid aside, I turned mine eyes
With reverence and humility to heaven,
Craving a blessing from the bounteous Giver;
Then grateful thanks returned. There was a joy
In these lone meals, shared by my faithful dog,
Which I remind with pleasure, and has given
A verdure to my spirit's age. Then think
Of such a man, beside a guzzler set;
And how his stomach nauseates the repast.
"When he thinks of days he shall never more see.
Of his cake and his cheese, and his lair on the lea,
His laverock that hung on the heaven's ee-bree,
His prayer and his clear mountain rill."
I cannot eat one morsel. There is that,
Somewhere within, that balks each bold attempt;
A loathing—a disgust—a something worse:
I know not what it is. A strong desire
To drink, but not for thirst. 'Tis from a wish
To wash down that enormous eater's food—
A sympathetic feeling. Not of love!
And be there ale, or wine, or potent draught
Superior to them both, to that I fly,
And glory in the certainty that mine
Is the ethereal soul of food, while his
Is but the rank corporeal—the vile husks
Best suited to his crude voracity.
And far as the bright spirit may transcend
Its mortal frame, my food transcendeth his.
A CREDITOR! Good heaven, is there beneath
Thy glorious concave of cerulean blue,
A being formed so thoroughly for dislike,
As is a creditor? No, he's supreme,
The devil's a joke to him! Whoe'er has seen
An adder's head upraised, with gleaming eyes,
About to make a spring, may form a shade
Of mild resemblance to a creditor.
I do remember once—'tis long agone—
Of stripping to the waist to wade the Tyne—
The English Tyne, dark, sluggish, broad, and deep;
And just when middle-way, there caught mine eye,
A lamprey of enormous size pursuing me!
L—— what a fright! I bobb'd, I splashed, I flew.
He had a creditor's keen, ominous look,
I never saw an uglier—but a real one.
This is implanted in man's very nature,
It cannot be denied. And once I deemed it
The most degrading stain our nature bore:
Wearing a shade of every hateful vice,
Ingratitude, injustice, selfishness.
But I was wrong, for I have traced the stream
Back to its fountain in the inmost cave,
And found in postulate of purest grain,
It's first beginning.—It is not the man,
The friend who has obliged us, we would shun,
But the conviction which his presence brings,
That we have done him wrong:—a sense of grief
And shame at our own rash improvidence:
The heart bleeds for it, and we love the man
Whom we would shun. The feeling's hard to bear.
A BLUSTERING FELLOW! There's a deadly bore,
Placed in a good man's way, who only yearns
For happiness and joy. But day by day,
This blusterer meets me, and the hope's defaced.
I cannot say a word—make one remark,
That meets not flat and absolute contradiction—
I nothing know on earth—am misinformed
On every circumstance. The very terms,
Scope, rate, and merits of my own transactions
Are all to me unknown, or falsified,
Of which most potent proof can be adduced.
Then the important thump upon the board,
Snap with the thumb, and the disdainful 'whew!'
Sets me and all I say at less than naught.
What can a person do?—To knock him down
Suggests itself, but then it breeds a row
In a friend's house, or haply in your own,
Which is much worse; for glasses go like cinders;
The wine is spilled—the toddy. The chair-backs
Go crash! No, no, there's nothing but forbearance,
And mark'd contempt. If that won't bring him down,
There's nothing will. Ah! can the leopard change
His spots, or the grim Ethiop his hue?
Sooner they may and nature change her course,
Than can a blusterer to a modest man:
He still will stand a beacon of dislike.
A fool—I wish all blustering chaps were dead,
That's the true bathos to have done with them.
Fraser's Magazine.
THE GATHERER.
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
SHAKSPEARE.GAD'S HILL.
Gad's Hill, not far from Chatham, was formerly a noted place for depredations on seamen, after they had received their pay at the latter place. The following robbery was committed there in or verging on the year 1676: About four o'clock one morning, a gentleman was robbed by one Nicks, on a bay mare, just as he was on the declivity of the hill, on the west side. Nicks rode away, and as he said, was stopped nearly an hour by the difficulty of getting a boat, to enable him to cross the river; but he made the best use of it as a kind of bait to his horse. From thence he rode across the county of Essex to Chelmsford. Here he stopped about an hour to refresh his horse, and give the animal a ball;—from thence to Braintree, Bocking, and Withersfield; thence over the Downs to Cambridge; and from thence, keeping still the cross roads, he went by Fenny Stratford, [9] to Godmanchester and Huntingdon, where he and his mare baited about an hour; and, as he said himself, he slept about half an hour: then holding on the north road, and keeping a full gallop most of the way, he came to York the same afternoon; put off his boots and riding clothes, and went dressed as if he had been an inhabitant of the place, to the bowling-green, where, among many other gentlemen, was the Lord Mayor of the city. He, singling out his lordship, studied to do something particular that the mayor might remember him, and then took occasion to ask him what o'clock it was. The mayor, pulling out his watch, told him the time, which was a quarter before, or a quarter after eight at night. Upon a prosecution for this robbery, the whole merit of the case turned upon this single point:—the person robbed, swore to the man, to the place, and to the time, in which the robbery was committed; but Nicks, proving by the Lord Mayor of York, that he was as far off as Yorkshire at that time, the jury acquitted him on the bare supposition, that the man could not be at two places so remote on one and the same day.
I need not remind your numerous readers that the roads in 1676 were in a very different plight to those of 1831; at the former period it would not have been possible for Tom Thumb to have trotted sixteen miles an hour on any turnpike road in England. Even my friend, the respected driver of the Old Union Cambridge Coach to London, can remember, in his time, the coach being two days on the road, and occasionally being indebted to farmers for the loan of horses to drag the coach wheels out of their sloughy tracks.
J.S.W.
DIGNIFIED REPROOF.
Catherine Parthenay, niece of the celebrated Anna Parthenay, returned this spirited reply to the importunities of Henry IV.—"Your majesty must know, that although I am too humble to become your wife, I am at the same time descended from too illustrious a family ever to become your mistress."
P.
L—A—W.
The circumlocution and diffuseness of law papers—the apparent redundancy of terms, and multiplicity of synonymes, which may be found on all judicial proceedings, are happily hit off in the following, which we copy from Jenk's New York Evening Journal:—
"A LAWYER'S STORY.—Tom strikes Dick over the shoulders with a rattan as big as your little finger. A lawyer would tell you the story something in this way:—And that, whereas the said Thomas, at the said Providence, in the year and day aforesaid, in and upon the body of the said Richard, in the peace of God and the State, then and there being, did make a most violent assault and inflicted a great many and divers blows, kicks, cuffs, thumps, bumps, contusions, gashes, wounds, hurts, damages, and injuries, in and upon the head, neck, breast, stomach, lips, knees, shins, and heels of the said Richard, with divers sticks, staves, canes, poles, clubs, logs of wood, stones, guns, dirks, swords, daggers, pistols, cutlasses, bludgeons, blunderbusses, and boarding pikes, then and there held in the hands, fists, claws, and clutches of him the said Thomas."
WATERLOO—"FORGET ME NOT."
"On one of these graves I observed the little wild blue flower, known by the name of 'Forget me not'."—Visit to the Field of Waterloo.
No marble tells, nor columns rise,
To bid the passing stranger mourn,
Where valour fought, and bled, and died,
From friends and life abruptly torn.
Yet on the earth that veils[10] their heads,
Where bravest hearts are doom'd to rot,
This simple flower, with meek appeal,
Prefers the prayer "Forget me not."
Forget! forbid my heart responds
While bending o'er the hero's grave—
Forbid that e'er oblivion's gloom
Should shade the spot where rest the brave.
Fond kindred at this awful shrine
Will oft, with footsteps faltering,
Approach and drop the pious tear—
Sad Memory's purest offering.
And well their country marks those deeds—
The land that gave each bosom fire:
Deeds that her proudest triumph won,
But gaining, saw her sons expire.
And ages hence will Britain's sons,
As trophied tributes meet their view,
Admire, exult—yet mourn the pangs
These glories cost, at Waterloo.
D.
SWORD PRESENTED BY THE KING TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF WATERLOO.
On the hilt, and executed in high relief, are branches of oak surrounding the crown. The bark of the branches are opening, which display the words—"India, Copenhagen, Peninsula, and Waterloo." The top part of the scabbard exhibits his majesty's arms, initials, and crown; the middle of the scabbard exhibits the arms and orders of the Duke of Wellington on the one side, and on the reverse his batons. The lower end has the thunderbolt and wings, the whole surrounded with oak leaves and laurel, with a rich foliage, in which was introduced the flower of the Lotus. The blade exhibits, in has relief, his majesty's arms, initials, and crown; the arms, orders, and batons, of the Duke of Wellington, Hercules taming the tiger, the thunderbolt, the British colours bound up with the caduceus and fasces, surrounded by laurel, and over them the words—"India, Copenhagen, Peninsula, and Waterloo," terminating with a sheathed sword, surrounded by laurel and palm.
ODDITIES.
Fashion-mongers make odd work with language. Thus, we read of Mrs. Ravenshaw giving a "petit" souper to about 150 of the haut ton.
The Court Journal, too, tells us that a few days since Lord Lansdowne met with "a severe accident," by which "he suffered no material injury."
The Queen's dress at her last ball was "white and silver, striped with blue." The song says—
To be nice about trifles
Is trifling and folly;—
but the modistes can gather little from such a description as the above.
In the Zoological Gardens is a pheasant, one of whose feathers measures 5 feet 11 inches in length!
A "Charming Fellow,"—The records of the Horticultural Society inform us that Lady Cochrane has been elected "a Fellow of the Society."
VEDI PAGANINI E MORI.
See Paganini, and then die!
I beg to tell a different story;
And to the bowing crowd I cry,
See Paganini, and then Mori!
Court Journal.
In a List of New Books and Reprints we find one by "Bishop Home; in silk, 2s. 6d."
Epitaph on Spenser.
In Spenserum.
Famous alive and dead, here is the odds,
Then god of poets, now poet of the gods.
The Philomathic Society of Warsaw have elected Mr. Campbell a corresponding member, as "Campbell Tomes Poète Anglais."—Literary Gazette.
Anatomy.—The price for unopened subjects in Paris is 5 francs, or 4s. 2d.; and 3 francs, or 2s. 6d. for opened ones.—Lancet.
THE LORD CHANCELLOR.
Vol. XVII. of the MIRROR,
With a Steel-plate Portrait of this illustrious Individual, Memoir, &c., 50 Engravings, and 450 closely printed Pages, will be published on the 30th instant, price 5s. 6d. boards.
Part 110, price 10d., will be ready on the same day.
The Supplementary Number will contain the above Portrait, a copious Memoir, Title-page, Index, &c; and, from its extension beyond the usual space, will be published at 4d.
Footnote 1: [(return)]
See Mirror, No 475.
Footnote 2: [(return)]
Langhorne's Plutarch, vol. i. p. xv.—Limbird's edition.]
Footnote 3: [(return)]
The common food of the poor.
Footnote 4: [(return)]
Bacon, iii. 409.
Footnote 5: [(return)]
Ibid. iii. 380.
Footnote 6: [(return)]
See examples in Bacon, iii.
Footnote 7: [(return)]
Bacon, iii. 382.
Footnote 8: [(return)]
Ibid. 381.
Footnote 9: [(return)]
Fenny, or Fen Stanton, not Stratford, must be here meant, as the former is in the direct road from Cambridge to Huntingdon.
Footnote 10: [(return)]
The layer of earth scarce covers the bodies, so may be called a veil.
Printed and published by J LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic; G.G. BENNIS, 55, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers.
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
SHAKSPEARE.
"On one of these graves I observed the little wild blue flower, known by the name of 'Forget me not'."—Visit to the Field of Waterloo.
Footnote 1: [(return)]
See Mirror, No 475.