The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 270, August 25, 1827

The fairy bells tinkle afar,
Make haste, or they'll catch ye, and harness ye fast
With a cobweb, to Oberon's car.

Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home—
But, as all serious people do, first
Clear your conscience, and settle your worldly affairs,
And so be prepared for the worst.

Lady Bird! Lady Bird! make a short shrift—
Here's a hair-shirted Palmer hard by;
And here's Lawyer Earwig to draw up your will,
And we'll witness it, Death-Moth and I.

Lady Bird! Lady Bird! don't make a fuss—
You've mighty small matters to give;
Your coral and jet, and … there, there—you can tack
A codicil on, if you live.

Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away now
To your house in the old willow-tree,
Where your children, so dear, have invited the ant.
And a few cozy neighbours, to tea.

Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home,
And if not gobbled up by the way,
Nor yoked by the fairies to Oberon's car,
You're in luck—and that's all I've to say.

    Ibid.

"THE OLD MANOR HOUSE."

The following circumstances respecting the foundation upon which Charlotte Smith built her popular novel, "The Old Manor House," may probably prove interesting to the public. Near Woodcot, where Mrs. Smith resided at the time she commenced her novel, was a very old house and domain called Brookwood, in which resided some Misses Venables, elderly maiden ladies, whom our authoress visited; and her acquaintance with them and their abode, gave her the idea of her romance. They kept an old housekeeper,– one whom we may presume was quite in keeping with the house,—whose niece or daughter was per favour allowed to reside with her at Brookwood— this girl, I need scarcely say, was the Monimia of the novel, nor was her Orlando a feigned character, although a highly-ornamented one; in truth, alas! for the shadowy beauty of romance, alas! for the spell of gorgeous poesy, he was not more made for a hero than was Dulcinea del Toboso for a heroine, being the young butcher of the village!! "Often and often," said the intelligent friend who favoured me with the account, "has he supplied our family with meat when we resided at Brookwood, and the beautiful Monimia, his wife, is only slightly disfigured by an interesting squint." The same friend who had frequently rambled over the house, part of which is now pulled down, spoke of it thus: "It was what I term an ancient Vandyked building, in toto an old manor-house; the exterior had a castellated appearance, nor had the interior much less, with its dim vasty apartments, sliding panels for the secretion of treasure, and secret passages; in one of the chambers is a closet, wherein part of the boarding of the floor is made to slide, and when moved, reveals a kind of vault, the descent down which is by a long narrow flight of steps; use is made of this, I think, in 'The Old Manor House,' but some friends of mine who went down discovered nothing but a gloomy kind of den, not capable of containing more than six persons standing, and nearly filled with oyster-shells. Do you recollect," continued my friend, "in which of Charlotte Smith's novels it is that she describes an eccentric old gentleman manuring his ground with wigs? because the fact is, it really was done by such a one at Brookwood."—New London Literary Gazette.

THE DELICACY OF THE MARIKINA

The marikina is a pretty little animal which has often been brought into Europe. Its elegant form, graceful and easy motions, beautiful fur, intelligent physiognomy, soft voice, and affectionate disposition, have always constituted it an object of attraction.

The marikina, or silken monkey, can be preserved in European climates only by the utmost care in guarding it from the operation of atmospheric temperature. The cold and humidity of our winters are fatally injurious to its health. Neatness and cleanliness to a fastidious degree are constitutional traits of the marikina, and the greatest possible attention must be paid to it in this way, in a state of captivity. The slightest degree of dirt annoys them beyond measure, they lose their gaiety, and die of melancholy and disgust. They are animals of the most excessive delicacy, and it is not easy to procure them suitable nourishment. They cannot accustom themselves to live alone, and solitude is pernicious to them in an exact proportion to the degree of tenderness and care with which they have been habitually treated. The most certain means of preserving their existence, is to unite them to other individuals of their own species, and more especially to those of an opposite sex. They will soon accustom themselves to live on milk, biscuit, &c. but mild and ripe fruit is most agreeable to their taste, which to a certain degree is also insectivorous.—London Magazine.

THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

A SONG FOR MUSIC

BY T. HOOD, ESQ

A lake and a fairy boat
To sail in the moonlight clear,
And merrily we would float
From the dragons that watch us here!

Thy gown should be snow-white silk,
And strings of orient pearls,
Like gossamers dipp'd in milk,
Should twine with thy raven curls.

Red rubies should deck thy hands,
And diamonds should be thy dower—
But fairies have broke their wands,
And wishing has lost its power!

The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies and other Poems.

THE ARRIVAL OF A TRANSPORT

Numbers of boats soon surround the ship, filled with people anxious to hear news, and traffickers with fruit and other refreshments, besides watermen to land passengers; a regular establishment of the latter description has long existed here, many of whose members formerly plied that vocation on the Thames, and among whom were a few years back numbered that famous personage once known by all from Westminster stairs to Greenwich, by the shouts which assailed him as he rowed along, of "Overboard he vent, overboard he vent!" King Boongarre, too, with a boat-load of his dingy retainers, may possibly honour you with a visit, bedizened in his varnished cocked-hat of "formal cut," his gold-laced blue coat (flanked on the shoulders by a pair of massy epaulettes) buttoned closely up, to evade the extravagance of including a shirt in the catalogue of his wardrobe; and his bare and broad platter feet, of dull cinder hue, spreading out like a pair of sprawling toads, upon the deck before you. First, he makes one solemn measured stride from the gangway; then turning round to the quarter-deck, lifts up his beaver with the right hand a full foot from his head, (with all the grace and ease of a court exquisite,) and carrying it slowly and solemnly forwards to a a full arm's-length, lowers it in a gentle and most dignified manner down to the very deck, following up this motion by an inflection of the body almost equally profound. Advancing slowly in this way, his hat gracefully poised in his hand, and his phiz wreathed with many a fantastic smile, he bids massa welcome to his country. On finding he has fairly grinned himself into your good graces, he formally prepares to take leave, endeavouring at the same time to take likewise what you are probably less willing to part withal—namely, a portion of your cash. Let it not be supposed, however, that his majesty condescends to thieve; he only solicits the loan of a dump, on pretence of treating his sick gin [wife] to a cup of tea, but in reality with a view of treating himself to a porringer of "Cooper's best," to which his majesty is most royally devoted. You land at the government wharf on the right, where carts and porters are generally on the look-out for jobs; and on passing about fifty yards along the avenue, you enter George-street, which stretches on both hands, and up which, towards the left, you now turn, to reach the heart of the town.

Although all you see are English faces, and you hear no other language but English spoken, yet you soon become aware that you are in a country very different from England, by the number of parrots and other birds of strange notes and plumage which you observe hanging at so many doors, and cagesful of which you will soon see exposed for sale as you proceed. The government gangs of convicts, also, marching backwards and forwards from their work in single military file, and the solitary ones straggling here and there, with their white woollen Paramatta frocks and trousers, or gray or yellow jackets with duck overalls, (the different styles of dress denoting the oldness or newness of their arrival,) all bedaubed over with broad arrows, P.B.'s, C.B.'s, and various numerals in black, white, and red, with perhaps the jail-gang straddling sulkily by in their jingling leg-chains,—tell a tale too plain to be misunderstood. At the corners of streets, and before many of the doors, fruit-stalls are to be seen, teeming, in their proper seasons, with oranges, lemons, limes, figs, grapes, peaches, nectarines, apricots, plums, apples, pears, &c. at very moderate prices.—Two Years in New South Wales.

MELANCHOLY

FROM MATTHISON

The nightingale's sad note in gloom is ringing,
As wails the bride above her lover's grave;
Like Grief above the tomb her tresses wringing,
So gleams the star of evening o'er the wave.

A melancholy haze hangs o'er the ocean;
The rocky cliffs reflect a sallow light—
Such as through cloister'd halls of dim devotion,
The moon-beams pour upon the cloudy night.

Ye rocky heights—ye violet-meads appearing
Once fairer to my gaze than poet's dream—
Now all your golden light to gloom is veering,
And every floweret laves in Lethe's stream.

Hills, valleys, meads, no changes ye are mourning;
'Tis to the hopeless every star appears
Like lamps in dark sepulchral vistas burning—
And every dew-tipp'd flower is gemm'd with tears!

Stray Leaves; or, Translations from the German Poets.

THE GATHERER

"I am but a Gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff."—Wotton.