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I never gaze upon the boundless deep,
But still I think upon the glorious brave,
Nelson and Blake, who conquered but to save;
I hear their thunders o'er the billows sweep,
And think of those who perish'd on the wave,
That Britain might a glorious harvest reap!

High hearts and generous, Vain did foemen
Peace to their souls, and sweetly may they sleep,
Entomb'd within the ocean's lonely cave!
Still many a lovely eye for them shall weep,
Tears, far more precious than the pearls, that keep
Their casket there, or all the sea e'er gave,

To the bold diver's grasp, whose fearless leap
With wealth enriches, or in death must sleep!

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On the 10th of September, 1802, a very beautiful Junar rainbow was observed at Matlock, in Derbyshire, between the hours of eight and nine in the evening: its effect was singularly pleasing. The colours of these phenomena are sometimes very well defined; but they have a more tranquil tone than those which originate in the solar beams. They are not unfrequent in the vicinity of Matlock, being mentioned by some writers among the natural curiosities of that delightful spot.

On Saturday evening, September 28, 1822, an extremely interesting iris of this description was distinctly observed by many persons in the neighbourhood of Boston, in Lincolnshire. It made its appearance nearly north, about half-past eight in the evening. This bow of the heavens was every way complete, the curvature entire, though its span was extensive, and the altitude of its apex seemed to be about 20 degrees. The darkness occasioned by some clouds pregnant with rain, in the back ground of this white arch of beauty,

W. T. M.

formed a striking contrast, while several stars in the constellation of Ursa Major, (the great bear,) which were for a time conspicuous, imparted additional gran deur to the scene.*

An observer of a nocturnal rainbow on the 17th of August 1788, relates its appearance particularly. "On Sunday evening, after two days, on both of which, particularly the former, there had been a great deal of rain, together with lightning and thunder, just as the clocks were striking nine, three and twenty hours after full moon, looking through my window, I was struck with the appearance of something in the sky which seemed like a rainbow. Having never seen a rainbow by night, I thought it a very extraordinary phenomenon, and hastened to a place where there were no buildings to obstruct my view of the hemisphere. The moon was truly walking in brightness,' brilliant as she could be, not a cloud was to be seen near her; and over-against her, toward the northwest, or perhaps rather more to the north, was a rainbow, a vast arch, perfect in all rainbows frequently are, but unremittedly its parts, not interrupted or broken as visible from one horizon to the other. In order to give some idea of its extent, it is the western extremity of the parish of necessary to say, that, as I stood toward Stoke Newington, it seemed to take its rise from the west of Hampstead, and to end, perhaps, in the river Lea, the eastern boundary of Tottenham; its colour was white, cloudy, or greyish, but a part o its western leg seemed to exhibit tints of

* Butler's Chronological Exercises.

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Pump at Hammersmith.

A "walking" man should not refrain
To take a saunter up Webb's-lane,
Tow'rds Shepherd's bush, and see a rude
Old lumb'ring pump. It's made of wood,
And pours its water in a font
So beautiful-that if he do'n't
Admire how such a combination
Was form'd, in such a situation,
He has no power of causation,
Or taste, or feeling; but must live
Painless, and pleasureless; and give
Himself to doing what he can ;
And die a sort of sort-of-man.

Some persons walk the strait road from Dan to Beersheba, and finding it firm beneath the foot, have no regard to any thing else, and are satisfied when they get to their journey's end. I do not advise these good kind of people to go to Hammersmith; but, here and there, an out-ofthe-way man will be glad to bend his course thitherward, in search of the object represented. It is fair to say I have not seen it myself: it turned up the other day in an artist's sketch-book. He had taken it as an object, could tell no more than that he liked it, and, as I seemed struck by its appearance, but could not then go to look at it and make inquiries, he volunteered his services, and wrote me as follows:-"I went to Hammersmith, and was some time before I could find the place again however, I at length discovered it in Webb's-lane, opposite the Thatched-house, (Mr. Gowland is the landlord.) There I took some refreshment, and gained what information I could, which was but little. The stone font with other things (old carved ornaments, &c., which were used in fitting up the upper rooms of some cottages that the pump belongs to) were purchased at a sale; and this was all I could obtain at the Thatched-house. Coming from thence I learned from a cobler at work that there was originally a leaden pump, but that it was doubled up, and rolled away, by some thieves, and they attempted to take the font, but found it too heavy. The Crispin could not inform me where the sale was, but he told me where his

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landlady lived and her name, which was Mrs. Springthorp, of Hammersmith, any one could tell me her house: so, being very tired, I took coach, and rode to town without inquiry. Please to send me word whether I shall do it for next week." To the latter inquiry my answer of course was yes." but I am as dark as my informant, as to the origin of what he calls the "font" which forms the sink of this pump. It does not appear to me to be a font, but a vase. I could have wished he had popped the question to " Mrs. Springthorp" respecting the place from whence it came, and concerning the "other things, old carved ornaments, &c." I entreat some kind reader to diligently seek out and obligingly ac quaint me with full particulars of these matters. In the mean time I console myself with having presented a picturesque object, and with the hope of being enabled to account for the agreeable union.

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These are delightful at any time. At about this season of the year, 1817, the following poetical description appeared in a newspaper which no longer exists :LINES

By Mr. J H. REYNOLDS.

Whence is the secret charm of this lone wood,
Which in the light of evening sweetly sleeps!—
I tread with lingering feet the quiet steeps,

Where thwarted oaks o'er their own old age brood ;-
And where the gentler trees, in summer weather,
Spring up all greenly in their youth together;
And the grass is dwelling in a silent mood,
And the fir-like fern its under forest keeps

In a strange stillness. My winged spirit sweeps
Not as it hath been wont,-but stays with me
Like some domestic thing that loves its home;
It lies a-dreaming o'er the imagery

Of other scenes,-which from afar do come,
Matching them with this indolent solitude.
Here,-I am walking in the days gone by,--
And under trees which I have known before.
My heart with feelings old is running o'er-

And I am happy as the morning sky.

The present seeins a mockery of the past—
And all my thoughts flow by me, like a stream,

That hath no home, that sings beneath the beam

Of the summer sun,-and wanders through sweet meads,-
In which the joyous wildflower meekly feeds,-
And strays,-and wastes away in woods at last
My thoughts o'er many things fleet silently,-
But to this older forest creep, and cling fast.
Imagination, ever wild and free,

With heart as open as the naked sea,
Can consecrate whate'er it looks upon :-
And memory, that maiden never lone,
Lights all the dream of life.

While I can see

This blue deep sky,-that sun so proudly setting
In the haughty west,-this spring patiently wetting
The shadowy dell,-these trees so tall and fair,
That have no visiters but the birds and air:-
And hear those leaves a gentle whispering keep,
Light as young joy, and beautiful as sleep,-
The melting of sweet waters in the dells,--
The music of the loose flocks' lulling bells,
Which sinks into the heart like spirit's spells.
While these all softly o'er my senses sweep,-
I need not doubt that I shall ever find

Things, that will feed the cravings of my mind.
My happiest hours were past with those I love
On steeps;-in dells, with shadowy trees above;
And therefore it may be my soul ne'er sleeps,
When I am in a pastoral solitude :-
And such may be the charm of this lone wood,
That in the light of evening sweetly sleeps.

NALURALISTS' CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature . . . 58.40.

September 12.

STORM AT ENGHIEN.

On the 12th of September, 1817, the gentlemen forming a deputation of the "Caledonian Horticultural Society," while inspecting Mr. Parmentier's gardens at Enghein, were suddenly overtaken by a violent thunder storm, and compelled to flee for shelter to Mr. Parmentier's house. "As this thunder storm was of a character different from what we are accustomed to in Scotland, and much more striking than what we had witnessed at Brussels, a short notice of it may be excused.-A dense, black cloud was seen advancing from the east; and as this cloud developed itself and increased in magnitude, one-half of the horizon became shrouded in darkness, enlivened only by occasional flashes of forked lightning, while the

other half of the horizon remained clear, with the sun shining bright. As the black cloud approached, the sun's rays tinged it of a dull copper colour, and the reflected light caused all the streets and houses to assume the same lurid and metallic hue. This had a very uncommon and impressive effect. Before we reached the mayor's house, scarce a passenger was to be seen in the streets; but we remarked women at the doors, kneeling, and turning their rosaries as they invoked their saints. Meantime thick and strong the sulphurous flame descended ;' the flashes and peals began to follow each other in almost instantaneous succession, and the tout-ensemble became awfully sublime. A sort of whirlwind, which even raised the small gravel from the streets, and dashed it against the windows, preceded the rain, which fell in heavy drops, but lasted only a short time. The sun now became obscured, and day seemed converted into night. Mr. Parmentier having ordered wine, his lady

came to explain that she could not prevail on any of the servants to venture across the court to the cellar. The mayor, in spite of our remonstrances, immediately undertook the task himself; and when, upon his return, we apologised for putting him to so much trouble, he assured us that he would not on any account have lost the brilliant sight he had enjoyed, from the incessant explosions of the electric fluid, in the midst of such palpable darkness. Such a scene, he added, had not occurred at Enghein for many years; and we reckoned ourselves fortunate in having witnessed it. We had to remain housed for more than two hours; when the great cloud began to clear away, and to give promise of a serene and clear evening."

Two days before, on the 10th, the same party had been surprised at Brussels by a similar tempest. They were on a visit to the garden of Mr. Gillet, and remarking on the construction of his forcinghouse. "In this forcing-house, as is usual, the front of the roof extends over the sloping glass, till it reaches the perpendicular of the parapet. Mr. Gillet had no doubt, that the object of this sort of structure is to help to save the glass from the heavy falls of hail, which frequently accompany thunder storms.

Just

as he had made this observation, we perceived menacing thunder clouds approaching the gardener hastened to secure his glazed frames; Mr. Gillet took his leave; and before we could get home, the whole horizon was overcast; lightning flashed incessantly; the streets seemed to have been suddenly swept of the inhabitants, the shop-doors were shut, and we could scarcely find a person of whom to inquire the way."-The day had been altogether sultry; and at ten o'clock P. M. the mercury in the thermometer stood at seventytwo degrees Fahrenheit.*

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SATANIC SUPERSTITIONS.

That the devil has a "cloven foot," which he cannot hide if it be looked for is a common belief with the vulgar. "The ground of this opinion at first," says sir Thomas Browne, "might be his frequent appearing in the shape of a goat," (this accounts also for his horns and tail,)

which answers this description. This was the opinion of the ancient christians, concerning the apparition of panites, fauns, and satyrs; and of this form we read of one that appeared to Anthony in the wilderness." Mr. Brand collects, respecting this appearance, that Othello says, in the "Moor of Venice,"

"I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable;

If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee;" which Dr. Johnson explains: "I look towards his feet, to see, if, according to the common opinion, his feet be cloven." There is a popular superstition both in

* Gentleman's A ́agazine.

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