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Vain is the blaze of wealth, the pomp of power!
Lo! here, attendant on the shadowy hour,
Thy closet-supper, served by hands unseen,
Sheds, like an evening star, its ray serene
To hail our coming. Not a step profane
Dares, with rude sound, the cheerful rite restrain;
And, while the frugal banquet glows revealed,
Pure and unbought-the natives of my field;
While blushing fruits thro' scattered leaves invite,
Still clad in bloom, and veiled in azure light;
With wine, as rich in years as Horace sings,
With water, clear as his own fountain flings,
The shifting side-board plays its humbler part,
Beyond the triumphs of a Loriot's art.

Thus, in this calm recess so richly fraught
With mental light and luxury of thought,
My life steals on; (O could it blend with thine!)
Careless my course, yet not without design.
So thro' the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide,
The light raft drooping with the silent tide;
So, till the laughing scenes are lost in night,
The busy people wing their various flight,
Culling unnumbered sweets from nameless flowers,
That scent the vineyard in its purple hours.

Rise, ere the watch-relieving clarions play,
Caught thro' St. James's groves at blush of day;
Ere its full voice the choral anthem flings
Thro' trophied tombs of heroes and of kings.
Haste to the tranquil shade of learned ease,
Tho' skilled alike to dazzle and to please;
Tho' each gay scene be searched with anxious eye,
Nor thy shut doors be passed without a sigh.

If, when this roof shall know thy friend no more, Some, formed like thee, should once, like thee, explore; Invoke the lairs of his beloved retreat,

And his lone walks imprint with pilgrim fect;
Then be it said, (as, vain of better days,

Some gray domestic prompts the partial praise,)
"Unknown he lived, unenvied, not unblest;
Reason his guide, and Happiness his guest.
In the clear mirror of his moral page
We trace the manners of a purer age.
His soul, with thirst of genuine glory fraught,
Scorned the false lustre of licentious thought.
-One fair asylum from the world we knew,
One chosen seat, that charms with various view!
Who boasts of more (believe the serious strain)
Sighs for a home, and sighs, alas! in vain.
Thro' each he roves, the tenant of a day,
And, with the swallow, wings the year away!"

123.-APOPHTHEGMS.-IV.

THE SELFISHNESS OF VICE.-Where there is no integrity, there can be no confidence; and where there is no confidence, there can be no unanimity. Three German robbers having acquired, by various atrocities, what amounted to a very valuable booty, they agreed to divide the spoil, and to retire from so dangerous a vocation. When the day, which they had appointed for this purpose, arrived, one of them was despatched to a neighbouring town, to purchase provisions for their last carousal. The other two secretly agreed to murder him on his return, that they might come in for one half of the plunder, instead of a third. They did so. But the murdered man was a closer calculator even than his assassins, for he had previously poisoned a part of the provisions, that he might appropriate to himself the whole of the spoil. This precious triumvirate were found dead together—a signal instance that nothing is so blind and suicidal as the selfishness of vice.-COLTON.

SIR THOMAS MORE.-His country-house was at Chelsea, in Middlesex, where Sir John Danvers built his house. The chimney-piece of marble, in Sir John's chamber, was the chimney-piece of Sir Thomas More's chamber, as Sir John himself told me. Where the gate is now, adorned with two noble pyramids, there stood anciently a gate-house, which was flat on the top, leaded, from whence is a most pleasant prospect of the Thames, and the fields beyond; on this place the Lord Chancellor More was wont to recreate himself and contemplate. It happened one time, that a Tom of Bedlam came up to him, and had a mind to have thrown him from the battlements, saying, "Leap, Tom, leap." The chancellor was in his gown, and besides ancient, and not able to struggle with such a strong fellow. My lord had a little dog with him; said he, "Let us first throw the dog down, and see what sport that will be;" so the dog was thrown over. "This is very fine sport," said my lord, "fetch him up and try once more ; " while the madman was going down, my lord fastened the door, and called for help, but ever after kept the door shut.-AUBREY.

JOHNSON. The late Alexander Earl of Eglintoune, who loved wit more than wine, and men of genius more than sycophants, had a great admiration of Johnson; but, from the remarkable elegance of his own manners, was, perhaps, too delicately sensible of the roughness which sometimes appeared in Johnson's behaviour. One evening about this time, when his lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with Dr. Robertson and several other men of literary distinction, he regretted that Johnson had not been educated with more refinement, and lived more in polished society. "No, no, my lord," said Signor Baretti, "do with him what you would, ho would always have been a bear." "True," answered the earl, with a smile, "but he would have been a dancing bear."

To obviate all the reflections which have gone round the world to Johnson's prejudice, by applying to him the epithet of a bear, let me impress upon my readers, a just and happy saying of my friend Goldsmith, who knew him well:-" Johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man alive has a more tender heart. He has nothing of the bear but his skin.”—BoswELL.

THE FIRST HUG OF THE BEAR.-On Monday, the 16th of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back parlour, after having drank tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into the shop; and Mr. Davies having perceived him, through the glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us; he announced his awful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, "Look, my Lord, it comes." I found that I had a very perfect idea of Johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation; which was the first picture his friend did for him, which Sir Joshua very

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kindly presented to me, and from which an engraving has been made for this work. Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, "Don't tell where I come from." "From Scotland," cried Davies, roguishly. "Mr. Johnson," said I, "I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it." I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as a humiliating abasement at the expense of my country. But however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression came from Scotland," which I used in the sense of being of that country: and, as if I had said that I had come away from it, or left it; retorted, "That, Sir, I find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help." This stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat down, I felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. He then addressed himself to Davies: "What do you think of Garrick? He has refused me an order for the play for Miss Williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings." Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ventured to say, "O, Sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you." "Sir," said he, with a stern look, "I have known David Garrick longer than you have done, and I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject."-BosWELL.

A DISTINCTION.-A person tried for high treason, as the jury were about to leave the bar, requested them to consider a statute which he thought made very much for him. 'Sirrah," cried out one of the judges, “I know that statute better than you do." The prisoner coolly replied, "I make no doubt, Sir, but that you do know it better than I do ; I am only anxious that the jury should know it as well."-SEWARD, WICKED WIT.-One asked Sir John Millesent how he did so conform himself to the grave justices, his brothers, when they met. "Why, in faith," says he, "I have no way but to drink myself down to the capacity of the Bench."-L'ESTRANGE. KING JAMES.-He was complaining one time of the leanness of his hunting horse, and swore by his soul he could see no reason but his should be as fat as any of his subjects; for he bestowed upon him as good feeding, keeping, and as easy riding as any one did, and yet the jade was lean. Archee, his fool, standing by, told him, "If that be all, take no care: I'll teach your Majesty a way to raise his flesh sently and if he be not as fat as ever he can wallow, you shall ride me." "I pr'ythee, fool, how?" said the King. "Why, do but make him a Bishop, and I'll warrant you," says Archee.-L'ESTRANGE.

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SIR MILES FLEETWOOD, RECORDER OF LONDON.-He was of the Middle Temple, was Recorder of London, when King James came into England. Made his harangue to the city of London.-"When I consider your wealth I do admire your wisdom, and when I consider your wisdom I do admire your wealth." It was a two-handed rhetorication, but the citizens took it in the best sense. He was a very severe hanger of highwaymen, so that the fraternity were resolved to make an example of his worship, which they executed in this manner:-They lay in wait for him not far from Tyburn, as he was to come from his house at Bucks; had a halter in readiness; brought him under the gallows, fastened the rope about his neck, his hands tied behind him, (and servants bound,) and then left him to the mercy of his horse, which he called Ball. So he cried, "Ho, Ball! Ho, Ball!" and it pleased God that his horse stood still, till somebody came along, which was half a quarter of all hour or more. He ordered that his horse should be kept as long as he would live,

which was so; he lived till 1646.-AUBREY.

CHARACTER OF LORD BACON.-One, though he be excellent, and the chief, is not

to be imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his author; likeness is always on this side truth. Yet there happened in my time one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in his speaking. His language (where he could spare or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious. No man ever spake more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered. No member of his speech, but consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough, or look aside from him, without loss. He commanded where he spoke; and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No man had their affections more in his power. The fear of every man that heard him was, lest he should make an end.

My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place, or honours, but I have and do reverence him, for the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want. Neither could I condole in a word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make it manifest.-BEN JONSON.

66

IDLE FEARS.-One was saying that his great grandfather, and grandfather and father, died at sea; said another that heard him, "An I were as you, I would never come at sea." "Why," saith he, "where did your great grandfather, and grandfather and father die?" He answered, "Where but in their beds?" Saith the other, “An I were as you, I would never come to bed."-BACON.

AUGUSTUS CAESAR would say, "That he wondered that Alexander feared he should want work, having no more to conquer; as if it were not as hard a matter to keep as to conquer."-BACON.

SCHOOL DISCIPLINE.-The discipline at Christ's Hospital in my time was ultra Spartan; all domestic ties were to be put aside. "Boy!" I remember Bowyer saying to me once when I was crying the first day of my return after the holidays. "Boy! the school is your father! Boy! the school is your mother! Boy! the school is your brother! the school is your sister! the school is your first cousin, and your second cousin, and all the rest of your relations! Let's have no more crying!"

No tongue can express good Mrs. Bowyer. Val Le Grice and I were once going to be flogged for some domestic misdeed, and Bowyer was thundering away at us by way of prologue, when Mrs. B. looked in, and said, "Flog them soundly, Sir, I beg!" This saved us. Bowyer was so nettled at the interruption that he growled out, "Away, woman! away!" and we were let off.

I had one just flogging. When I was about thirteen, I went to a shoemaker, and begged him to take me as his apprentice. He being an honest man, immediately took me to Bowyer, (the Master of Christ's Hospital,) who got into a great rage, knocked me down, and even rudely pushed Crispin out of the room. Bowyer asked me "Why I had made myself such a fool?" to which I answered, "That I had a great desire to be a shoemaker, and that I hated the thought of being a clergyman." "Why so?" said he,-"Because, to tell you the truth, Sir," said I, "I am an infidel!" For this, without more ado, Bowyer flogged me, wisely, as I think,-soundly as I know. Any whining or sermonizing would have gratified my vanity, and confirmed me in my absurdity; as it was, I was laughed at, and got heartily ashamed of my folly.-COLERIDGE.

and myself in a lane

KEATS.-A loose, slack, not well-dressed youth met Mr. near Highgate. knew him, and spoke. It was Keats. He was introduced to me, and staid a minute or so. After he had left us a little way, he came back, and said: "Let me carry away the memory, Coleridge, of having pressed your hand!" "There is death in that hand," I said to when Keats was gone; yet this was, I believe, before the consumption showed itself distinctly.-COLERIDGE.—Table Talk.

124. THE GREAT DISMAL SWAMP OF AMERICA.

LYELL.

[WE extract the following account of one of the most remarkable natural objects in the world, from the Travels in North America,' of a distinguished geologist of our day, Sir Charles Lyell.]

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There are many swamps or morasses in this low, flat regiou, and one of the largest of these occurs between the towns of Norfolk and Weldon. We traversed several miles of its northern extremity on the railway, which is supported on piles. It bears the appropriate and very expressive name of the Great Dismal,' and is no less than forty miles in length from north to south, and twenty-five miles in its greatest width from east to west, the northern half being situated in Virginia, the southern in North Carolina. I observed that the water was obviously in motion in several places, and the morass had somewhat the appearance of a broad inundated river-plain, covered with all kinds of aquatic trees and shrubs, the soil being as black as in a peat-bog. The accumulation of vegetable matter going on here in hot climate, over so vast an area, is a subject of such high geological interest, that I shall relate what I learnt of this singular morass. It is one enormous quagmire, soft and muddy, except where the surface is rendered partially firm by a covering of vegetables and their matted roots; yet, strange to say, instead of being lower than the level of the surrounding country, it is actually higher than nearly all the firm and dry land which encompasses it, and, to make the anomaly complete, in spite of its semi-fluid character, it is higher in the interior than towards its margin.

The only exceptions to both these statements is found on the eastern side, where, for the distance of about twelve or fifteen miles, the streams flow from slightly clevated but higher land, and supply all its abundant and overflowing water. Towards the north, the east, and the south, the waters flow from the swamp to different rivers, which give abundant evidence, by the rate of their descent, that the Great Dismal is higher than the surrounding firm ground. This fact is also confirmed by the measurements made in levelling for the railway from Portsmouth to Suffolk, and for two canals cut through different parts of the morass, for the sake of obtaining timber. The railway itself, when traversing the Great Dismal, is literally higher than when on the land some miles distant on either side, and is six to seven feet higher than where it passes over dry ground near to Suffolk and Portsmouth. Upon the whole, the centre of the morass seems to lie more than twelve feet above the flat country round it. If the streams which now flow in from the west, had for ages been bringing down black fluid mire instead of water, over the firm subsoil, we might suppose the ground so inundated to have acquired its present configuration. Some small ridges, however, of land must have existed in the original plain or basin, for these now rise like low islands in various places above the general surface. But the streams to the westward do not bring down liquid mire, and are not charged with any sediment. The soil of the swamp is formed of vegetable matter, usually without any admixture of earthly particles. We have here, in fact, a deposit of peat from ten to fifteen feet in thickness, in a latitude where, owing to the heat of the sun and length of the summer, no peat-mosses like those of Europe would be looked for under ordinary circumstances.

In countries like Scotland and Ireland, where the climate is damp, and the summer short and cool, the natural vegetation of one year does not rot away during the next in moist situations. If water flows into such land it is absorbed, and promotes the vigorous growth of mosses and other aquatic plants. and when they die, the same water arrests their putrefaction. But, as a general rule, no such accumulation of peat can take place in a country like that of Virginia, where the summer's

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