SIR ASHTON LEVER’s Lottery Tickets are now on sale at Leicester-house, every day (Sundays excepted) from Nine in the morning till Six in the evening, at One Guinea each; and as each ticket will admit four persons, either together or separately, to view the Museum, no one will hereafter be admitted but by the Lottery Tickets, excepting those who have already annual admission.
This collection is allowed to be infinitely superior to any of the kind in Europe. The very large sum expended in making it, is the cause of its being thus to be disposed of, and not from the deficiency of the daily receipts (as is generally imagined) which have annually increased, the average amount for the last three years being 1833l. per annum.
The hours of admission are from Eleven till Four.
Good fires in all the galleries.
The first notice of the Leverian Museum is in the “Gentleman’s Magazine” for May, 1773, by a person who had seen it at Alkerington, near Manchester, when it was first formed. Though many specimens of natural history are mentioned, the collection had evidently not attained its maturity. It appears at that time to have amounted to no more than “upwards of one thousand three hundred glass cases, containing curious subjects, placed in three rooms, besides four sides of rooms shelved from top to bottom, with glass doors before them.” The works of art particularized by the writer in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” are “a head of his present majesty, cut in cannil coal, said to be a striking likeness; indeed the workmanship is inimitable—also a drawing in Indian ink of a head of a late duke of Bridgewater, valued at one hundred guineas—a few pictures of birds in straw, very natural, by Miss Gregg; a basket of flowers, cut in paper, a most masterly performance; the flowers are justly represented, not the least dot of the apices of the stamina wanting, or the least fault in the proportion; every part is so truly observed, that it was new to me every time I went to see it, and gave me great delight. This curious basket of flowers was executed by Mrs. Groves. There are a great number of antique dresses and parts of dresses of our own and other nations—near two hundred species of warlike instruments, ancient and modern; but as I am no friend to fighting, of these I took no further notice, or else I might have mentioned the tomahawk, the scalping-knife, and many more such desperate diabolical instruments of destruction, invented, no doubt, by the devil himself.”
A Summer Scene in the Potteries.
Down in the Potteries it’s “a sight,”
The whole day long, from morn till night,
To see the girls, and women grown,
The child, the damsel, and old crone
By the well-sides at work, or singing,
While waiting for the water’s springing;
Telling what Francis Moore presages,
Or who did not bring home his wages.
P’rhaps one exclaims, “time runs away!”
Her neighbour cries, “Why, what’s to-day?”
And, when she knows, feigns mighty sorrow—
She thought to-day would be to-morrow?
Another thinks another’s daughter
Grows monstrous tall——“Halloo! the water!”
Up it rises, and they skurry,
In a skimble skamble hurry,
Shouting and bawling “Where’s the pot?”
“Why I was first”—“No, you were not.”—
As quick as thought they empt’ the well,
And the last comers take a spell,
At waiting, while the others go,
With their full pitchers, dawdling so,
You’d think they’d nothing else to do
But to keep looking round at you.
However, all are honest creatures,
And some have pretty shapes and features:
So, if there be an end of lotteries,
You may find prizes in the Potteries.