The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 287, December 15, 1827

The goodes of the erthe is gadered evermore
In August, so at forty-eight yere
Man ought to gather some goodes in store
To susteyne aege that then draweth nere.

September

Let no man thynke, for to gather plenty
Yf, at fifty-four yere he have none
No more than yf his barne were empty
In September when all the come is gone.

October

By Octobre betokenyth sixty yere
That aege hastely dooth man assayle,
Yf he have outgh (6) than (7) it dooth appere
To lyve quyetly after his travayle.

November

When man is at sixty-six yere olde
Which lykened is to bareyne Novembre
He waxeth unweldy, (8) sekely (9) and cold
Than (7) his soule helth is time to remember.

December

The yere by Decembre takelh his ende,
And so dooth man at three-score and twelve,
Nature with aege wyll hym on message sende
Tho tyme is come that he must go hymselve.

Glossary

1. Beginneth. 3. Loving. 3. Might 4. Sight. 5. Waste or barren, applied to mind. 6. Aught, anything. 7. Then. 8. Unwieldy. 9. Sickly.

A few words at parting, or rather in closing our calendar. Whilst we have endeavoured to attract by the little emblematic display of art at the head of each month, we have not neglected to direct the attention of our readers to "the good in every thing" which is scattered through each season of the year, by constantly recurring to the beneficence of the OMNIPOTENT BEING—thus enabling them to look

"Through Nature up to Nature's God."

Her study will moderate our joys and griefs, and enable us to carry the principle of "good in every thing" into every relation of social life. Let us learn to cherish in our remembrance that (in the language of the sublime Sterne) "God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb;" and that the storms of the world, like those of nature, will at length clear off, and open to us a prospect unclouded and eternal.

THE SKETCH-BOOK

No. LII

THE UNKNOWN REGION

[For the following Gulliverian sketch we are indebted to a lively volume of whim, humour, and pleasant sentiment, entitled Snatches from Oblivion: the work likewise contains some springy versification.—Ed.]

An honourable member of a certain enlightened assembly, who had greatly distinguished himself by his topographical ingenuity and taste for good society, had, in the course of some statistical researches, discovered a part of the globe hitherto unknown, called by the natives Russell Square, and which was considered would be an important acquisition to the English dominions. A council of state was called upon this occasion, who, after six successive meetings, determined upon sending out an expedition, at the head of which was the original discoverer, to reconnoitre, and, if eligible, to take possession of the terra incognita in the name and behalf of the British crown. Unfortunately I was myself at that time engaged in oddity-hunting in another part of the world, and was consequently unable to join the adventurous party, but have learned the whole particulars from the mouth of an intimate friend, who formed a portion of it, and who obliged me with the tie of a cravat of one of the extraordinary inhabitants of the soil. His relation is to the following effect:—

"The conditions of our enterprise having been finally arranged, and our instructions delivered, sealed by the Lords of the Admiralty, after a few months' preparation we were enabled to commence our adventurous career. Prayers having been put up for our safe return, our, wills having been made, and, in case of our never returning from

"'That undiscovered country (Russell Square),
From whence (it was dreaded) no traveller returns,'

"our property secured, as well as handsome annuities to our wives and children, we embarked on board the Admiralty yacht from Whitehall Stairs. Here a scene that would have melted the heart of a stoic took place. The difficulties and horrors of our campaign, the melancholy fates of Mungo Park, and Captains Cook and Bowditch, the agonizing consequences of starvation, cannibalism, and vulgarity, which we were likely to encounter in these unknown regions, were depicted in their most vivid and powerful colours. But each of us was a Roman, a Columbus, prepared to stand or fall in the service of his country.

"The vessel left the shores amidst the tears, groans, and perfumed handkerchiefs of the surrounding multitude; so heart-rending were our adieux, that three officers of the guards, overcome by the afflicting crisis, went into strong hysterics, and were obliged to have their stay-laces cut. Standing on the poop of the vessel with a white handkerchief in one glove, and a bottle of Eau de Cologne in the other, we waved farewell to our friends, and, as the last vestige of their whiskers disappeared from our sight, a sad presentiment filled our minds that it was for ever. Groups of beings, wearing the form and countenances of men, though most barbarously disguised, occasionally passed us in what we supposed to be canoes, saluting us in an unknown and discordant tone. Our voyage concluded at a point which, we have since been informed, was discovered by a noble lord in a sailing expedition, where he was driven by adverse winds and tides, and baptized by him 'Waterloo Bridge,' after a certain victory supposed to have been obtained by the ancient Britons some time previous to the flood. Having landed, we were immediately surrounded by a native tribe of a warlike and barbarous aspect, being in almost a primitive dress, having only the lower part of their persons covered. The appearance of their skin was most remarkable; it was intersected by blue seams, as if nature had supplied them with a shirt of her own formation—for not the slightest appearance of muslin or cambric was visible. The name of this horde of barbarism is, as we were afterwards informed, in their native patois, Scullers, and from the circumstance of their appearing peculiar to the river and its banks, the Professor of Natural History, whom we carried with us, after an elaborate investigation, declared them to be, peculiar to the soil, members of the animal kingdom, of a species between the alligator and crocodile.

"After reference to our geographical charts, we took our seats in our stanhopes, being preceded by our travelling chariots, a detachment of the Lancers, by way of security, two interpreters, a guide, and a surgeon, in case of casualties. By the instructions of the guide we steered in a direction N.E.E., and as we proceeded farther into the country, the barbarity and uncivilization became more apparent. Crossing a swamp called the Strand, we arrived at a native settlement called Drury Lane, inhabited by a horde infinitely more barbarous and rude than the tribe by which we were accosted on landing. The indigites of this soil, in ferocity of appearance, exceeded all our previous idea of savage life. They are generally tattooed, but the crevices in their skin, instead of variegated colours as the savages of the South Seas, seemed to be filled up by a composition much resembling dirt. They had, however, no tomahawks, nor implements of a warlike description, nor were any of them dressed in skins; although some of them had the hide of a beast hanging from their waist downwards, which appeared their only covering, and we understand is called by them—leathern apron.

"Passing by a native wigwam, which we found in our maps defined as Vinegar Yard, we were surrounded by a motley and terrific group of the inhabitants, both male and female. Of their sex we were in great doubt, especially of those who carried on their heads a kind of wicker basket, in which were a quantity of fish, of whose genus our naturalist declared himself perfectly ignorant. As we had often heard of the simplicity of man when undefiled by a knowledge of the world, of his hospitality, and his overflowing milk of human kindness, and feeling besides exhausted from the length and difficulties of our journey, we determined upon putting these fabled attributes to the proof. Holding up his stick, as an emblem of peaceable intentions, and backed by the Lancers, our interpreter advanced, and inquired for the hut of their chief, and requested, as we were much exhausted, they would oblige us with a small quantity of their ava, and a few of their native yams. As they seemed unable to detect his meaning, which we endeavoured to make more palpable, by all of us at the same time advancing, simultaneously putting our fingers down our mouths, and rubbing our stomachs, in order to have our urgent necessities immediately gratified.

"Instead of our wants having been anticipated, as we had naturally supposed, the whole tribe immediately set up a discordant yell. Believing that we were still misunderstood, we resolved on asking for food, and assuring them of our peaceable intentions in all the languages we were masters of. One of the Lancers who had, during foreign service, picked up a few expressions of the Cherokee Indians, and also a knowledge of their habits, proposed addressing them. A consultation being held, and the result being favourable, he advanced; and, in the Cherokian language, asked for food, invoked at the same time the great spirit, which he did by spitting on his hands (an Indian custom), and holding up his right foot for the purpose of his auditor kissing it, as a token of conciliation. The person whom he addressed, in an uncouth, but certainly melodious language, answered in these words:

"'Dom hew-er hies, gie us none o' hew-er-jaw.'

"Another, whom I had willingly entreated in my native tongue for a place of shelter, answered in the following couplet, which convinced me of the truth of the supposition of Mr. Thomas Campbell, the intended lecturer of poetry to the London University, that mankind in an aboriginal state is essentially poetical, and express their ideas either in rhythmical or figurative language—

"'Hax hay-bout,
An find it hout.'

"Others shouted with a peculiar strength of lungs, Bedlam! Bedlam! ha! ha! These words appeared to be instantly caught up by the surrounding groups, and communicated like wild-fire, amongst the different tribes, which by this time had increased to an alarming magnitude. * * *

"Arriving at a settlement, marked out in the maps as Great Russell Street, the marks of civilization became more apparent, particularly when we saw a native approaching in shoes, stockings, and a bona fide pair of breeches; but our surprise was increased on reaching the place of our destination, 'Russell Square,' to find very few traces of savage life, and a wigwam of considerable extent erected in close imitation of our beloved and long-lost homes!

"Having stopped at a house which had the appearance of being inhabited by a civilized being, our interpreter, in the patois of the country, requested we might be admitted inside, for tire sole purpose of judging of the manners and customs of foreign nations. The creature who received our request was habited much after the same fashion as our footmen, only the wretch, as if to put his uncivilization beyond a doubt, actually wore white cotton stockings, and his hair without powder. Being shown up stairs, we entered a room of considerable dimensions, and our astonishment may be more easily conceived than expressed, on our finding, instead of naked beings, squatted cross-legged on mats on the floor, we found them decently attired, and sitting upright in most Christian-like and indubitable chairs. The master of the house, a short, fat, and, for a savage, an apparently inoffensive man, having by no means a blood-thirsty appearance, made us welcome according to the fashion of the country, which he did by the following ceremony:—Placing himself about half a yard before us, with both sets of his toes so drawn in as to nearly meet, one of his his hands being stuck where his breeches pocket should be placed, he ducked his head and shoulders (as if he would make a bow), at the same time drawing one of his feet from the other, and scraping it on the floor; this accomplished, he resumed his former position, muttered some unintelligible words, which sounded like 'perdigiously happy,' tucked up the collar of his shirt (for the wretch actually wore one), and stalked away.

"It is needless to say that we were regarded with symptoms of infinite astonishment by the natives, with whom the room was filled, and who appeared to be mimicking the manners of civilized life, and often calling out words, which we have since understood to be names of liquids peculiar to the country, viz—'port,' 'sherry,' and 'lemonade.' Our curiosity being amply gratified, the short fat native, who had first addressed us, marched up to me, and to my indescribable alarm offered to introduce me to his daughter, a young savage of about seventeen, who he pointed out sitting in a nearly civilized attitude on a legitimate sofa. Perceiving me shudder at the proposal, for I had heard that the New Zealanders, and other barbarous tribes, sometimes eat their friends, as well as their enemies, he inquired of me the cause, and fearful of the consequence of exciting the anger of these savages while in their power, I expressed my total willingness to the introduction, and declared that my only objection was, lest she should scratch; upon his assuring me she was perfectly tame. I consented to be led (though like a lamb to the slaughter) to the couch, praying most fervently, though silently, she would not make a meal of me. What was my horror when the short fat gentleman addressed her with a horrid wink of the eye—'Poppett, as I know you to be partial to these smart young fellows (Heavens! she was then addicted to cannibalism), I have brought you one.' I heard no more, but making up my mind I was to be served up for supper, flew with the utmost' rapidity my stays would permit me, when my ears were electrified at the sounds of Stultz and Nugee. I knew not how it was, but the hearing of these words, surrounded as I was by doubt and danger, calmed at once my agitated spirits, like some well-remembered air which we have heard in our infancy, stealing over the waste of years and distance, I felt completely overcome by my feelings. Home, and my native land, with a thousand sweet associations of relatives, and all the charms of friendship and love, seemed to accompany the sounds, and I gazed with unqualified mildness on the innocent source of my happiness, who stood gazing in simple wonder at my ill-suppressed surprise. I was nearly fainting, and should have fallen, had it not been for a kind-hearted squaw in a satin slip, and blond trimmings, bathing my temples with a grateful distillation of otto of roses. The natural reserve of my disposition having been overcome by the force of nature, I proposed to our entertainer, if he would part with his daughter to take her back with us, and make her a member of the civilized world. He shook his head, and declared his inability to relinquish her; so great do we find the force of parental affection even in savage life; but upon the approach of his son, an eligible and ductile youth, with a promising pair of whiskers, and irreproachable pantaloons, he consented to part with him, declaring that next to his daughter he was the only solace of his life. As the youth bore the name of his tribe, the semi-barbarous cognomen of Simpson, he agreed to accept that of Lee boo, not only as being more civilized, but expressive of his situation. As he was of an ambitious nature, he had made, unknown to his parent, many excursions towards the west; we therefore agreed to accept of him as our guide; and we left our simple and promising friends with the assurance of a speedy return: as a pledge, we exchanged one of our cravats, well stiffened, and with the Petersham tie, for one of the collars worn by the male, and a flounce of the she-savage's petticoats; promising also to send them, on our arrival, a pattern of Lord H–h's beard, which approached nearer to savage life than any other object we could think of in the civilized world.

"We reached Connaught Place without any accident, with the young savage as a trophy, and received the most affectionate welcome on our unexpected and safe return. Prayers were put up the following day at most of the fashionable churches, and a solemn te deum was composed expressly for the occasion. The young savage has already realized the expectation we formed of his docility and capacity; already he speaks our language equal to a native—has run through the whole of his property—keeps race-horses —and has an opera singer under his protection—never pays a bill, and is admitted without a voucher at every hell in the metropolis; has forgot his father's name, and never hears the unknown region of 'Russell Square' mentioned, but he inquires—'if that is not the place where the people drink porter, and don't wear shoes and stockings?'"

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

THE DUST CART

Dust, than which nothing can, upon a superficial view, be considered more insignificant, was, a few years back, of very considerable value, far surpassing the value of many things acquired by difficulty and danger, and for which the breadth of oceans are traversed, through storms and tempests. Perhaps a cruise to the Gold Coast, with all its drawbacks and contingencies, is scarcely so profitable as the returns on the quantity of dust collected in the City of London, during the time necessary for the voyage, and its accomplished return. About the period I allude to, the parish of St. Luke received no less a sum than between one and two thousand pounds a-year for dust collected, which, being placed to the parish account, tended in a great measure to keep down the poor'-rates. In addition to its value, no kind of property is better secured; as will be evinced, when the reader is informed that his present Majesty, George IV., when he was Prince Regent, lost an action for the recovery of the value of dust, carried away from the palace, by his servants, to be used as manure. In order to a further illustration of the subject, it is necessary to inform the reader, that what has hitherto been considered is but a part of that incongruous combination, the contents of a dust-cart—the very last residuum—the matter called "brize;" previous to which, by the result of much labour, of picking, raking, sorting, and sifting, a very pretty property is collected by the various shareholders of this joint, stock company, as a recent case that was brought forward at the Bow-street office will suffice to convince us.[3 - It was a dispute between a dustman and a sifter, as to which had the most rightful claim to a five-pound note, found in the ashes; and certainly nothing could be more impartially decided; for as their claims, or rather their non-claims, turned out to be equal—that is, in point of law—it was retained by the presiding magistrate in trust. In the course of the inquiry, it appeared that the sifter had realized sufficient property to enable her to be proprietress of three houses.]

Perhaps the reader may have never witnessed the ejection of a dust-cart: presuming he has not, I will endeavour to give him a general outline of the ceremony; together with all the circumstances attending it, and a sketch of the group and foreground. Suppose an eminence of about five or six feet already collected, in a circular form; on the heap is a man raking about, and a little child playing with a small brown shaggy mongrel of a dog, with a community of pigs battening on the acclivity; a youth below, with spade and axe, is supplying three women with stuff—if women they may be called, who, of all the progeny of old Mother Nox, seemed most the resemblances of age, misery, and want; I say seemed, for when one was called—one of three—I beheld, as she raised her dilapidated Dunstable, a face, where beams of pensive beauty struggled through dusty darkness, and which mantled to a smile at the sound of notes whistled to the tune of—"In Bunhill-row there liv'd a Maid"—indicating the approach of Joe—for it was his cart:—the dying cadence now gave way to the gee-up! uttered in deep bass, accompanied with a smart smack of the whip, to urge the horse up the ascent. Joe was a decent sort of boy enough for his avocation, not to be ranked among those who "troop under the sooty flag of Acheron;" but a clean, square-built fellow, with a broadish face and forehead, blue eyes, nose rather short, expanded, and inclined upwards, and tinted with that imperial hue that indicated his knowledge was not confined to dry measure; this, with a mouth a little elongated, formed a countenance, upon the whole, full of mirth and good-humour. This piece of device was surmounted by a hat of the usual professional form—a domed piece of felt, with a most prodigious margin: he wore a good stout flannel jacket, and waistcoat; his shirt collar fastened by a leaden brooch, in the shape of a heart, deviating from the general costume. His continuations were of white drill; but, mark the vanity! short enough to display a pair of hoppers, otherwise gaiters, of the same material; these, with a stout pair of ancle-Johns, completed his outward man of an order "simply Doric."

At Joe's approach, all was stir and bustle; the pigs, to the third and fourth generation, moved "in perfect phalanx," not "to the Dorian mood of flutes and soft recorders," but to their own equally inspiring grunt; varying from the shrill treble to the deep-toned bass. Jewler, too, ran barking; but with less interested feelings; and his little patron ran to take the whip.

A few interrogatories on each side, a joke, and its accompanying laugh, occupy brief space; when, suddenly, a general rush proclaims the load is strewed upon the ground! a chaotic mass—"old hats, old wigs, old boots, old shoes, and all the tribe of leather," remnants of all things, the ends and the beginnings, horticultural fragments and broken crockery, the hunter's bone and the beggar's rags, pilfered lace suspected, and the stolen jewel, the lost gold, and the mislaid spoon: and, for a climax, rejoice! gentle reader—for when the designs of the crafty are defeated by inadvertence, or otherwise, with the weird sisters, "we should rejoice! we should rejoice!"—a bill for fifteen pounds, drawn by a lawyer for expenses, and which was taken to the acceptor by the dustman, for which he received a considerate remuneration. Complicated as this mass appears, it is all reduced to the most perfect order, and each portion arranged according to the purposes intended for. Thus, the vegetable matter, so eagerly seized upon by the pigs, contributes to keep up a supply of dairy-fed pork and Epping sausages: the bones are laid aside for the purposes of making hartshorn and phosphorus, dominoes, and apple-scoops, &c. The old boots and shoes, with the tribe of leather, after a slight examination of their utter inefficiency, find their way, through divers passages to the glue-pot. How fractured bottles, and broken glass of every description, is disposed of, is easily seen through—to the furnace; and how the old iron is appropriated, is not hard to guess. The old woollen, if perchance any should exist in the shape of a pair of innominables, after exploring the pockets, and a sigh for their insolvency, are unceremoniously cast aside along with the worthless remains of rags of every description, string, paper, &c. &c., to pass through the operation necessary for making brown paper. What still remains, of coals, and cinders unconsumed, the dustman's perquisite, are measured first, "thence hurried back to fire:" the wood, the sifters take. Broken tiles, bricks, delf, crockery, with a variety of substances and etceteras, go towards the formation of roads. I had almost forgotten the crowning item, viz. old wigs! Towards the close of the last century, so much were they in request, that the supply was scarcely equal to the demand. Yes, in the days of Beau Tibbs, every street had its corner and every corner its shoe-black, and to every shoe-black might be traced an old wig, sometimes two. In those days of ruffles and etiquette, when a well-formed leg was advantageously displayed in whole silk stockings, shoes, and buckles, it was the custom with pedestrians, when making a call, to have their shoes wiped and touched up at the corner of the street nearest the place they were going to visit: and what so efficient for the purpose as an old wig? nothing. But, alas! those days are gone! and Beau Tibbs is gone! and, if we question where? only Echo answers. But what becomes of the old wigs? is the question at issue. Alas! again, such is the degeneracy of modern days, that, instead of being used as an appendage to the toilet, though humble, I fear they will be traced to the vulgar bricklayer and plasterer, to be mingled with mortar, and "patch a wall, to expel the winter's flaw." Now, I believe, every particle is accounted for; and any little article, in the shape of a bijou, is the perquisite of those pickers-up of unconsidered trifles, the sifters.

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