opinion that it is derived from an old custom of cats being shown about the streets dancing to a fiddle. I have an old book in my possession, without a date, but I should suppose it is about 180 years old: it is called "Pool's Twists and Turns about the Streets of London," in which he says these words, but in old English,-" No sooner had my ears been released from the squeaking bagthee' than I was teazed by a poor half-naked boy strumming on his violin, while another little urchin was, with the help of a whip, making two poor starved cats go through numerous fètes of agility." The book bears the mark of a duck and hatchet on the title page.

The Selector;

AND

LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

THE UNDYING ONE, AND OTHER POEMS. By the Hon. Mrs. Norton.

THESE few extracts, from an exquisite volume of Poems, by the authoress of "The Sorrows of Rosalie," will be congenial with the reader's present tone of mind. They are, in truth, "words that breathe, and thoughts that burn," and such as the lovers of fervid poetry would hail at any moment. The volume is not ill-timedly dedicated "to the Duchess of Clarence," and was perhaps the last work inscribed to the Queen's most excellent Majesty previous to her accession to the British Throne :

"But if, through all the vanish'd years whose shadowy joys are gone,

of thee alone;

Through all the changing scenes of life I thought If I have mourn'd for thee when far, and worshipp'd thee when near.

Then wake thee up, my early love, this weary heart to cheer.

"Awake! thy baby-boy is here, upon whose soft cheek lie

No tears of grief, save those which fall from his sad mother's eye:

How, lingering, did'st thou gaze on him when we were forced to part

Rise up, for he is here again, and press him to thy heart!

"In vain. in vain-I dream of thee and joyous

life in vain;

Thou never more shalt rise in strength from off the bloody plain.

Thou never more shait clasp thy boy, nor bold me to thy breast:

Thou hast left us lonely on the earth, and thou art gone to rest.

"Awake thee, my forsaken boy!-awake, my babe, and weep;

Art thou less wretched that thy brow no trace of woe can keep?

Oh! would through life that thou mightst taste no cup but that of joy.

And I, as now, might weep for both-my boy!my orphan boy!"

HUMILITY.

HAPPY the cottager! for he hath son's

And blue-eyed daughters made for love and mirth;

And many a child whose chasing footstep runs Around the precincts of his humble hearth. Borne on the breeze their light-toned laughter comes,

Making glad music in the parents' ear: And their bright faces light their humble homes, Brows all unshaded yet by guilt or fear. And if at length one rosy head bows low,

And prayers arc vain from death's dark power to save,

The lessen'd circled meet in mingled woe

To weep together o'er that gentle grave: And, gazing through their misty tears, they see (Like the blue opening through the stormy cloud)

Faces where grief was never meant to be,

And eyes whose joy doth mock the sable

shroud.

The one link sever'd from that broken chain
Back to their many loves they turn again,
Is lost, and they must cling to what is left;
And half forget of what they were bereft.

SUNSHINE.

THE world, the sunny world! I love
To roam untired, till evening throws
Sweet shadows through the pleasant grove,
And bees are murmuring on the rose.

I love to see the changeful flowers
Lie blushing in the glowing day-
Bend down their heads to 'scape the showers,
Then shake the chilly drops away.
The world, the sunny world! oh bright
And beautiful indeed thou art-
The brilliant day, the dark-blue night,
Bring joy, but not to every heart.
No! till, like flowers, those hearts can fling
Grief's drops from off their folded leaves,
'Twill only smile in hope's bright spring,
And darken when the spirit grieves.

THE MOURNERS.

Low she lies, who blest our eyes

Through many a sunny day: She may not smile, she will not riseThe life hath past away!

Yet there is a world of light beyond,
Where we neither die nor sleep-
She is there, of whom our souls were fond-
Then wherefore do we weep?

The heart is cold, whose thoughts were told
In each glance of her glad bright eye;
And she lies pale, who was so bright,

She scarce seemed made to die.

Yet we know that her soul is happy now,

Where the saints their calm watch keep;
That angels are crowning that fair young brow→
Then wherefore do we weep?

Her laughing voice made all rejoice
Who caught the happy sound;
There was gladness in her very step,
As it lightly touched the ground.
The echoes of voice and step are gone;
There is silence still and deep:

Yet we know she sings by God's bright throne-
Then wherefore do we weep?

The cheek's pale tinge, the lid's dark fringe,
That lies like a shadow there,

Were beautiful in the eyes of all

And her glossy golden hair!

But though that lid may never wake

From its dark and dreamless sleep,

Klopstock (fervent in feeling as those "ministers" who are "a flaming fire") is passionate and devout. Milton chiefly engages the high intellectual faculties of man; Klopstock, his divinest affections; Milton is majestic and awful; Klopstock tender and pathetic; Milton is the most original, having soar'd "on wings sublime,"

"Above this visible, diurnal sphere," into the heaven of heavens, and unveiled to mortal eyes that throne which is "dark with excess of light!" Klopstock also, borne "on the seraph-wings of ecstacy," flees far from the things of time and space, but most chiefly calls down upon earth the host of heaven. The "Messiah," as a pendant to "Paradise Lost," is inimitable, and deserves more fully the title of "Paradise Regained," than Milton's subsequent work, These great poets, as may be perceived, scarcely admit of a comparison, so few points of resemblance existing between

Then wherefore do we weep?

That world of light with joy is bright,

This is a world of woe:

Shall we grieve that her soul hath taken flight,
Because we dwell below?

We will bury her under the mossy sod,
And one long bright tress we'll keep;
We have only given her back to God-
Ah! wherefore do we weep?

The Gatherer.

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles, SHAKSPEARE.

MILTON AND KLOPSTOCK.

(For the Mirror.).

PERHAPS it is scarcely possible to decide to a fraction which of these great sacred poets hath, or ought to have, the preeminence; and perhaps it is scarcely fair to estimate the powers and merit of the German bard, as the generality of readers must do, through the uncertain medium of a translation-which at best offers but a feeble substitute for the nervous language of the original. The "Messiah" of Klopstock is comparatively but little known to English readers: yet it is most exquisite, and well repays the time bestowed on its perusal. Were we desired to institute a comparison between the English and German poets, without regard as to whether their re spective productions conform exactly or not, to the rules laid down for the composition of epic poems, we would say that Milton speaks mostly to the imagination-Klopstock to the heart. Milton is learned, philosophical, and abstruse;

that the admirer of Milton should not fail to peruse Klopstock. But, as our own glorious poet's chef d'œuvre, although sublimity be its principal characteristic, does not lack passages of ex treme tenderness and fervent devotion, neither is Klopstock's exquisite production destitute of originality, boldness, and sublimity. These observations still leave undecided the question respecting superiority; and we apprehend that, according to the ever-various tastes, faculties, and feelings of individuals, will pre-eminency be assigned to either poet. For ourselves, we are free to acknowledge a preference; perhaps, in the same we are not singular, but, and it is more than possible, were we to avow it undisguisedly, it would be deemed high treason against the republic of letters.

A COMPARISON.

M. L. B.

A HEART is like a fan,-and why?
'Twill flutter when a beau is nigh:
Ofttimes with gentle speech he'll take it,
Play with it for awhile, and break it!

COLLEGE FURNITURE.

A REVEREND gentleman, having quitted college to take possession of a living, wrote sometime afterwards to one of his friends at Alma Mater, requesting him to send "the remainder of his furniture." This consisted of a broken tin

lantern; three unframed prints, mildewed and full of holes; a plaster bust of the Duke of Wellington; and a spinnet, value something under twenty shil

THE best and most solid attachments of life are, in their very formation, cemented and confirmed, by some secret sympathy which defies our research, and our ignorance of which makes us marvel at our own facility, and that of the object who so readily admits and returns our regard. And probably the philosophy of practice teaches that thus our friendships should be formed-by impulse, not on calculation-not bartering the best emotions of the heart for a speculative return not seeking objects for our sympathy, nor choosing them for qualities that really place them out of its range; but following the feeling that fixes our friendships as if by predestined doom, and letting our hearts imbibe the generous flow, like plants that instinctively open to the dew-shower, which fills them with fruitfulness and bloom.

HIS PRESENT MAJESTY, WILLIAM IV.

MRS. CHAPONE, who was niece of Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Winchester, formerly preceptor to George III. and used to spend much of her time at her uncle's residence at Farnham Castle, relates the following anecdote of the young Duke of Clarence :-"I was pleased with all the princes, but particularly with Prince William, who is little of his age, but so sensible and engaging, that he won the bishop's heart; to whom he particularly attached himself, and would stay with him while all the rest ran about the house. His conversation was surprisingly manly and clever for his age; yet with the young Bullers, he was quite the boy, and said to John Buller, by way of encouraging him to talk, 'Come, we are both boys you know.' All of them showed affectionate respect to the bishop. The Prince of Wales pressed his hand so hard, that he hurt it.

A QUEEN CALLED A KING.

THE Hungarians formerly gave the name of King to their Queen Mary, to avoid the infamy which the laws of that coun 'try cast upon those who are governed by women; accordingly she bore the title of King Mary, till her marriage with Sigismund, at which time she took the title of Queen. P. T.W.

ORIGIN OF THE WORD SPINSTER.

IN former ages, females were prohibited from marrying till they had spun a regular set of bed furniture, and till their marriages they were called spinsters, which continues up to this day in all legal proceedings. C. H.

With the present No. The First Portion of a Memoir of the Life and Reign

OF

GEORGE THE FOURTH,

WITH A PORTRAIT.

Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market,

Leipsic; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers.

MEMOIR OF GEORGE THE

FOURTH.

GEORGE FREDERICK AUGUSTUS, the first-fruits of the marriage of George III. with Queen Charlotte, was born August 12, 1762, on the forty-eighth anniversary of the accession of the House of Brunswick to the British throne; and thus, had he lived to his next birth-day, he would have been sixty-eight years of age. On August 17, his Royal Highness was created Prince of Wales by letters patent; and on the 18th of September, following, he was christened at Saint

James's.

CHILDHOOD.

In the third year of his age the Prince was considered as being so beautifully formed for an infant, that a model was made of him for the King, by a celebrated artist of the time, of which the following description has been given :

:

"This ingenious performance, which is a perfect resemblance of the young prince, exhibits the whole figure entirely round, naked, and lying on a couch of crimson velvet, as if just undressed. His left leg is drawn up, and his right extended; his right arm he holds up, while the left lies at his side, holding a drapery that appears to have been thrown off in play. The whole is covered with a bellglass, from the inside top of which hangs a ring by a small gold cord, in which is perched a dove, with an olive-branch in its mouth. The figure was executed in stained wax, and the frame of the couch silver gilt. At the back part of the head of the couch is the Prince's name, with the time of his birth, surrounded by a garland of laurels. The couch stands upon an ebony plinth; and the stand for the whole is a massive piece of silvergilt plate; partly over which hangs a drapery lined with white satin, and fringed with gold. On the top of the glass is the Prince of Wales's coronet."

His Royal Highness, as Heir Apparent to the Crown, and as Prince of Wales, was very early called upon to receive and give an answer to an Address.

* As eldest son of the King, he became Duke of Cornwall from the moment of his birth. The

young Prince was the first Duke of Cornwall of

the House of Brunswick; neither his father, grandfather, nor great grandfather, having borne that title, or been entitled to the Duchy: from the circumstance of not being the eldest horn son of a king upon the throne, though each had possessed the title of Prince of Wales, peculiar to the eldest son, or eldest surviving son of the reigning sovereign, but always created by patent, whilst that of Duke of Cornwall, and the actual property attached to the Duchy, descends by a rule of inheritance, or rather of devolution, which cannot be altered by any fiat of the crown.

Before he was three years old, he received an Address from the Society of Ancient Britons, the founders and patrons of what is commonly known by the name of the Welsh School, in Gray's Inn road, and which, since its first institution, early in the last century, has always had peculiar claims upon the patronage of the Prince of Wales whenever such a distinguished personage has existed. The address was well adapted appeared perfectly to comprehend the to the very early age of the Prince, who gentlemen who presented it, when they told him that his Royal Parents had not thought any period of their lives too early for doing good, and that they hoped when a few short years had called forth his virtues, he would remember with pleasure the occurrences of that day. The young Prince listened with great attention to this address, and most distinctly repeated the answer, which of course had been prepared for himnamely, "Gentlemen, i thank you for this mark of duty to the King, and wish prosperity to this charity." A short time afterwards, when he was three years of age, his Royal Highness was constituted Knight of the Garter, and invested with the insignia of that illustrious order.

were

The boyish affection of the Prince for his parents appears to have been fondly cherished by the amiable domestic habits of the latter; for, in a sketch of their retirement at Kew, in the summer season, we learn, that "their Majesties rose at six in the morning, and enjoyed the two succeeding hours, which they called their own; at eight, the Prince of Wales, the Bishop of Osnaburg, (Duke of York,) the Princess Royal, and Princes William and Edward brought from their several homes at Kew, to breakfast with their illustrious parents. At nine, the younger children attended to lisp and smile their good morrows; and whilst the five eldest ones were closely applied to their tasks, the little ones and their nurses passed the whole morning in Richmond Gardens. The King and Queen frequently amused themselves with sitting in the room while the children dined; and, once a week, attended by the whole offspring in pairs, made the delightful little tour of Richmond Gardens. In the evening, all the children again paid their duty at Kew House before they retired to bed; and the same order was observed through each returning day."

EDUCATION.

The education of the Heir Apparent, as of the children subsequently born,