out of the right path, cannot be too strongly impressed on the minds of all young people.-Alas! you now know it from experience. All I say I feel doubly, from wishing you well. Be open and true, and whatever can be done, to make you happy, will. Truth is one of the most necessary Virtues, and whoever deviates from that, runs from one error into another-not to say Vice. I have heard you accused Mrs. Bingley of harshness; that I conceive to be utterly impossible; but I attribute your saying so to a mind in the greatest affliction, and not knowing what you were about. I pity you from my heart, but you have brought this on yourself, and you must now pray to God, for his assistance, to enable you to return to the right path. Why should you fear Me? I do not deserve it, and your feeling the force of your own faults can only occasion it; for 1 feel I am, and wish to be, a friend to three young people I have the charge of, and to make them fit to gain their own bread, and assist their families. For you I have felt particularly, being an orphan, and I had never had cause to regret the charge I had. Your poor parents have been saved a heavy blow. Conceive what their affliction must have been, had they lived to know of your conduct. I trust my poor Mary may yet live to renew all our feelings of regard for her, and that I shall have the comfort to hear many good accounts of your conduct and health. Unless your mind is at ease you cannot enjoy health. Be assured I shall be happy to find I have reason, always, to subscribe myself, four friend Amelia So wrote one of the daughters of England. We hail her a child of the nation by her affiance to virtue, the creator of our moral grandeur, and the preserver of our national dignity. Private virtue is the stability of states. In the princess Amelia's letter there is a natural union of powerful sense and exquisite sensibility; it has an easy, common-place air, but a mind that examines the grounds, and searches into the reasons of things, will discover the "root of the matter." Comment upon it is abstained from, that it may be read and studied. The crime of seduction is fashionable, because hitherto fashion has been crimi nal with impunity. The selfish destroyer of female innocence, can prevail on some wives and mothers by varnish of manner, and forcefulness of wealth, to the degradation of sanctioning his entertainments by their presence. Like the fabled upastree of Java, he lives a deadly poison to wither and destroy all within his shadow. Uneasiness from a lash of small cords in a feeble hand, he retaliates by a horsewhip: monstrous sensualists must be punished by scourges of flame from vigorous arms, and be hunted by hue and cry, till they find sanctuary in some remote hiding-place for blood-guiltiness. FLORAL DIRECTORY. Common Amaranth. Amaranthus hypo chondriacus. Dedicated to St. Cajetan August 8. Sts. Cyriacus, Largus, Smaragdus, and their Companions, Martyrs, A. D. 303. St. Hormisdas. FUNERALS IN CUMBERLAND. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, The variety of funeral-rites and ceremonies, prevalent in different ages and countries, has been so great as to forbid any attempt to enumerate them; but it is consistent with the character and design of the Every-Day Book, to record the peculiar customs which have existed in different districts of our native land: for although your motto from old Herrick, does not refer to any thing of a serious kind, yet, in the number of those which you promise the world to "tell of" I perceive that such matters are sometimes related. I proceed, therefore, to detail the circumstances which preceded and attended the interment of the dead in the county of Cumberland, within the last twenty years they are now discontinued, except, perhaps, in some of the smaller villages, or amongst the humblest class in society. Whether the customs I am about to describe, have been observed in the southern parts of England, I know not; I shall, therefore, confine myself to what has frequently passed under my own observation in my native town. No sooner had the passing-bell intimated to the inhabitants that an acquaintance or neighbour had departed for that "bourne whence no traveller returns," than they began to contemplate a call at the "Corse-house," (for such was the denomination of the house of mourning,) within which preparations were made by the domestics to receive all who might come. To this end all the apartments were prepared for the reception of visitors with the exception of the chamber of death one for the seclusion of the survivors of the family, and the domestic offices. The interval between the death and the interment is at present, I believe, extended beyond what was usual at the time I refer to: it was then two days and two nights, varying accordingly as the demise took place in the early or latter part of the day. The assemblage at the Corse-house, was most numerous during the evening; at which time many persons, who were engaged during the day in their several avocations, found leisure to be present: many of the females made their call, however, during the afternoon. The con course of visitors rendered the house like a tavern; their noise and tumult being little restrained, and their employment being the drinking of wine or spirits with the smoking of tobacco; and if only some made use of the "stinking herb," all partook of the juice of the grape. Instances could be adduced in which moderation gave way to excess. The conversation turned, often upon the character of the deceased, at least when generally respected; "de mortuis nil nisi bonum;" the ordinary topics of the day were discussed: perhaps the Irish people were ridiculed for their barbarism in waking their dead: and each individual as inclination prompted him, retired to make room for another, thus maintaining a pretty rapid succession of arrivals and departures, with the exception of, perhaps, one or two who embraced so favourable an opportunity for economical indulgence. "Where the carcase is there will the eagles be gathered together." I must, however, observe in justice to the good taste of my townsmen, that many of them rather assented to the custom than approved it; but an omission to attend a Corse-house, with the occupants of which you were even slightly acquainted, was considered a mark of disrespect to the memory of the dead, and the feelings of the survivors. It happened, however, that a gentleman (a stranger to this custom,) settled in the town I refer to, and, after a short residence, a death occurred in his family: he at once resolved to deviate from a practice which he did not approve. The first visitors to his house observed that no preparations were made for their reception, and were respectfully told by a servant, that open house would not be kept on the occasion: the news soon spread, and so did the example; a native of the town soon followed it, and a custom fell into desuetude, which the warmest admirers of ancient practices could scarcely desire to perpetuate. Originating probably in the exercise of the social affections, and of that hospitality which was convenient enough in periods when population was thin and widely scattered, they degenerated from their original use, and were "more honoured in the breach than the observance." Antiquity might, perhaps, plead in their defence. The an cient Jews made great use of music in their funeral rites; before Christ exerted his power in the restoration of the ruler's daughter, who was supposed to be dead, he caused to be put forth" the minstrels and the people making a noise." Matt. c. 9, v. 23, et seq. The ceremonies, which I am now going to describe, are still in existence; and evince no symptoms of decay. On the evening preceding the day appointed for the interment, the parish-clerk perambulates the town, carrying a deep and solemn-toned bell, by means of which he announces his approach to various places at which he is accustomed to stop, and give utterance to his mournful message. Well do I remember the deep interest with which I and my youthful associates listened to the melancholy tones of his sepulchral voice, whilst toys were disregarded, and trifling for a moment suspended! As the sounds of the " Deathbell" died away, it was proclaimed thus: "All friends and neighbours are desired from-to attend the funeral of street, to Mary's Chapel: the corpse to be taken up at - o'clock." What crowds of little urchins feeling a mixed sensation of fear and curiosity were congre gated! What casements were half-opened whilst mute attention lent her willing ear to seize upon the name of the departed, and the hour of burial! I have known a party at a round game" hushed into silence: and a whist party thrown into a sort of reverie, and there remain til! Mrs. What-d'ye-call-'em asked Mrs. What's-her-name, if clubs were trumps? or chid her partner for being guilty of a revoke on account of so common a thing as the "Death-bell." On the following day the clerk proceeds to the Corse-house, about an hour before A small table the procession is formed. covered with a white napkin, on which are placed wines and spirits, is put at the door of the house within and around which the people assemble: the clerk takes his place by the table, to assist to a glass of liquor, any person who may approach it. The coffin being brought forth, the clerk takes his place in front of the procession, and is usually attended by a number of those who form the choir on Sunday, all being uncovered. A psalm is sung as the cavalcade moves slowly through the streets. The rest of the "friends and neighbours" follow the corpse to the church, where the ordinary According to T. N., a Cambridge correspondent, this tree is, in that county, called the Cambridge oak. Old Fuller calls it "a sad tree, whereof such who have lost their love make their mourning garlands; and we know that exiles hung up their harps upon such doleful supporters. The twigs hereof are physick to drive out the fully of children. This tree delighteth in moist places, and is triumphant in the Isle of Ely, where the roots strengthen their banks, and top affords fuell for their fire. It groweth incredibly fast, it being a by-word in this county, that the profit by willows will buy the owner a horse before that by other trees will pay for his saddle. Let me add, that if green ashe may burne before a queen, withered willows may be allowed to burne before a lady." The old saying, "She is in her willows" is here illustrated; it implies the mourning of a female for her lost mate. The Willow (Salix) In Sylvan Sketches, to an account of the willow, elegant poetical illustrations are attached, from whence are extracted the subjoined agreeable notices. According to some botanists, there are more than fifty British willows only. The sweet, or bay-leaved willow, salix pentaxdria, is much used in Yorkshire for making baskets; its leaves afford a yellow dye. Baskets are also made from the osier, which belongs to this genus; but of the willows, the bitter purple willow, salix purpurea, is the best adapted for the finest basket-work. The common, or white willow, salix alba, takes its specific name from the white silken surface of the leaves on the under side. The bark is used to tan leather, and to dye yarn of a cinnamon colour. It is one of the trees to which the necessitous Kamtschatdales are often obliged to recur for their daily bread, which they make of the inner bark, ground into flour. The bark of this willow has in some cases been found a good substitute for the Peruvian bark. The grey willow, or sallow, salix cinerea, grows from six to twelve feet high. In many parts of England, children gather the flowering branches of this tree on Palm Sunday, and call them palms. With the bark, the inhabitants of the Highlands and the Hebrides tan leather. The wood, which is soft, white, and flexible, is made into handles for hatchets, spades, &c. It also furnishes shoemakers with their cutting-boards, and whettingboards to smooth the edges of their knives upon. The weeping willow, salix Babylonica, a native of the Levant, was not cultivated in this country till 1730. This tree, with its long, slender, pendulous branches, is one of the most elegant ornaments of English scenery. The situation which it affects, also, on the margins of brooks or rivers, increases its beauty; like Narcissus, it often seems to bend over the water for the purpose of admiring the reflection: "Shadowy trees, that lean So elegantly o'er the water's brim." There is a fine weeping willow in a garden near the Paddington end of the New Road, and a most magnificent one, also, in a garden on the banks of the Thames, just before Richmond-bridge, on the Richmond side of the river. Several of the arms of this tree are so large, that one of them would in itself form a fine tree. They are propped by a number of stout poles; and the tree appears in a flourishing condition. If that tree be, as it is said, no more than ninety-five years old, the quickness of its growth is indeed astonishing. Martyn relates an interesting anecdote, which he gives on the authority of the St. James's Chronicle, for August, 1801: "The famous and admired weeping willow planted by Pope, which has lately Deen felled to the ground, came from Spain, enclosing a present for lady SufNo. 35. folk. Mr. Pope was in company when the covering was taken off; he observed that the pieces of stick appeared as if they had some vegetation; and added, Perhaps they may produce something we have not in England.' Under this idea, he planted it in his garden, and it produced the willow-tree that has given birth to so many others." It is said, that the destruction of this tree was caused by the eager curiosity of the admirers of the poet, who, by their numbers, so disturbed the quiet and fatigued the patience of the possessor, with applications to be permitted to see this precious relic, that to put an end to the trouble at once and for ever, she gave orders that it should be felled to the ground. The weeping willow, in addition to the pensive, drooping appearance of its branches, weeps little drops of water, which stand like fallen tears upon the leaves. It will grow in any but a dry soil, but most delights, and best thrives, in the immediate neighbourhood of water. The willow, in poetical language, commonly introduces a stream, or a forsaken lover: "We pass a gulph, in which the willows dip Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink." Cowper. Chatterton describes "The willow, shadowing the bubbling brook." Churchill mentions, among other trees, mourn Their true love snatched away." Besides Shakspeare's beautiful mention of the willow on the death of Ophelia, and notices of it by various other poets, there are several songs in which despairing lovers call upon the willow-tree:"Ah, willow! willow The willow shall be Chatterton has one, of which the burthen runs "Mie love ys dedde, Gon to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree." In the "Two Noble Kinsmen," said to have been written by Shakspeare and Fletcher, a young girl, who loses her wit lows; nay, the smallest tree known, withwith hopeless love for Palamon Herrick thus addresses the willow-tree: "Thou art to all lost love the best, The only true plant found; Or laid aside forlorn, For their love lost, their only gain "And underneath thy cooling shade, The love-spent youth and love-sick maid Come to weep out the night." out any exception. The herbaceous willow, salix herbacea, is seldom higher than three inches, sometimes not more than two; and yet it is in every respect a tree, notwithstanding the name herbaceous, which, as it has been observed, is inappropriate. Dr. Clarke says, in his "Travels in Norway," "We soon recognised some of our old Lapland acquaintances, such as Betula nana, with its minute leaves, like silver pennies; mountain-birch; and the dwarf alpine species of willow of which half a dozen trees, with all their branches, leaves, flowers, and roots, might be compressed within two of the pages of a lady's pocket-book, without coming into contact with each other. After our return to England, specimens of the salix herbacea were given to our friends, which, when framed and glazed, had the appearance of miniature drawings. The author, in collecting them for his herbiary, has frequently compressed twenty of these trees between two of the This poet has some lines addressed to pages of a duodecimo volume." Yet in a willow garland also: "A willow garland thou didst send Perfumed, last day, to me; "Since it is so, I'll tell thee what; To-morrow thou shalt see To die upon the tree. "As beasts unto the altars go With garlands dressed, so I Will with my willow-wreath also Come forth, and sweetly die." The willow seems, from the oldest times, to have been dedicated to grief; under them the children of Israel lamented their captivity:-"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion: we hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof." The wicker-baskets made by our forefathers are the subject of an epigram by Martial : "From Britain's painted sons I came, It is worthy to be recollected, that some of the smallest trees known are wil The Psalms. the great northern forests, Dr. Clarke found a species of willow" that would make a splendid ornament in our English shrubberies, owing to its quick growth, and beautiful appearance. It had much more the appearance of an orange than of a willow-tree, its large luxuriant leaves being of the most vivid green colour, splendidly shining. We believed it to be a variety of salix amygdalina, but it may be a distinct species: it principally flourishes in Westro Bothnia, and we never saw it elsewhere." So much, and more than is here quoted, respecting the willow, has been gathered by the fair authoress of Sylvan Sketches. In conclusion, be it observed, that the common willow is in common language that name it is mentioned by Chaucer:sometimes called the sallow, and under "Whoso buildeth his hous all of salowes, And pricketh his blind hors over the falowes, And suffreth his wife for to seche hallowes, He is worthy to be honged on the gallowes." August 10. Chaucer. St. Lawrence, A. D. 258. St Deusdedit. St. Blaan, Bp. of Kinngaradha, A. D 446. |