The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 533, February 11, 1832

There is a pleasant anecdote of the late John Palmer, who, it will be remembered, was somewhat stiltish. "Palmer, whose father was a bill-sticker, and who had occasionally practised in the same humble occupation himself, strutting one evening in the green-room at Drury-Lane Theatre, in a pair of glittering buckles, a gentleman present remarked that they greatly resembled diamonds. 'Sir,' said Palmer, with warmth, 'I would have you to know, that I never wear anything but diamonds.' 'Jack, your pardon,' replied the gentleman, 'I remember the time when you wore nothing but paste!' This produced a loud laugh, which was heightened by Parsons jogging him on the elbow, and drily saying, 'Jack, why don't you stick him against the wall?'"

Another. Mr. Quin, upon his first going to Bath, found he was charged most exorbitantly for every thing; and, at the end of a week, complained to Nash, who had invited him thither, as the cheapest place in England for a man of taste and a bon vivant. The master of the ceremonies, who knew that Quin relished a pun, replied, "They have acted by you on truly Christian principles." "How so?" says Quin. "Why," answered Nash, "you were a stranger, and they took you in." "Ay" rejoined Quin; "but they have fleeced me, instead of clothed me."

THE OUTLINE OF ENGLISH HISTORY,

Is a well-executed compendium for schools, and will be amusing by any fire-side. It not merely contains the great names, but abounds with curious notes on domestic life in each reign, with facts and calculations which must have cost the editor, Mr. Ince, many days labour. The period pompously termed "the Georgian Aera" is not so copious us the editor wishes, but a little more forethought on his part or that of the printer would better satisfy himself and the public.

SNATCHES

From Mr. Bulwer's Novel of "Eugene Aram," vol. i.

Love of Nature.—It has been observed and there is a world of homely, ay, of legislative knowledge in the observation, that wherever you see a flower in a cottage-garden, or a bird at the window, you may feel sure that the cottagers are better and wiser than their neighbours.

Humour.—Where but in farces is the phraseology of the humorist always the same?

Conversation Tactics.—A quick, short, abrupt turn, that retrenching all superfluities of pronoun and conjunction, and marching at once upon the meaning of the sentence, had in it a military and Spartan significance, which betrayed how difficult it often is for a man to forget that he had been a corporal.

Music of Water.—You saw hard by the rivulet darkening and stealing away, till your sight, though not your ear, lost it among the woodland.

A fine Fellow—He had strong principles as well as warm feelings, and a fine and resolute sense of honour utterly impervious to attack. It was impossible to be in his company an hour, and not see that he was a man to be respected. It was equally impossible to live with him a week, and not see that he was a man to be beloved.

Marriage.—The greatest happiness which the world is capable of bestowing—the society and love of one in whom we could wish for no change, and beyond whom we have no desire.

Fatality.—What evil cannot corrupt, Fate seldom spares.

Widowhood.—If the blow did not crush, at least it changed him.

Comfort of Children.—As his nephew and his motherless daughters grew up, they gave an object to his seclusion, and a relief to his reflections. He found a pure and unfailing delight in watching the growth of their young minds, and guiding their differing dispositions; and, as time at length enabled them to return his affection, and appreciate his cares, he became once more sensible that he had a home.

Intellectual Beauty.—Her eyes of a deep blue, wore a thoughtful and serene expression, and her forehead, higher and broader than it usually is in women, gave promise of a certain nobleness of intellect, and added dignity, but a feminine dignity, to the more tender characteristics of her beauty.

A Village Beauty.—The sunlight of a happy and innocent heart sparkled on her face, and gave a beam it gladdened you to behold, to her quick hazel eye, and a smile that broke out from a thousand dimples.

An unformed mind.—Cheerful to outward seeming, but restless, fond of change, and subject to the melancholy and pining mood common to young and ardent minds.

Dependence.—What in the world makes a man of just pride appear so unamiable as the sense of dependence.

Two modes of sitting in a chair.—The one short, dry, fragile, and betraying a love of ease in his unbuttoned vest, and a certain lolling, see-sawing method of balancing his body upon his chair; the other, erect and solemn, and as steady on his seat as if he were nailed to it.

A Soldier's simile.—Your shy dog is always a deep one: give me a man who looks me in the face as he would a cannon.

A Landlord's Independence.—The indifference of a man well to do, and not ambitious of half-pence. "There's my wife by the door, friend; go, tell her what you want."

THE GATHERER

The Opera. From the number of French and German operas announced for performance at the King's Theatre, it should no longer be called the Italian Opera, but the Foreign Opera.

Tooth Ache.—Powdered alum not only relieves this annoyance, but prevents the decay of the tooth.

Egypt.—The French are just at this moment crazy for Egyptian antiquities. "While Champollion (on dit)is about to unrol the mystic papyri in all their primitive significance, the celebrated Caillaud has preceded him with the First Numbers of a work on the Arts and Trades of the Egyptians, Nubians, and Ethiopians; their customs, civil, and domestic, with the manners and customs of the modern inhabitants of these countries." —For. Quart. Rev.

Anne Boleyn.—M. Crapelet, the celebrated Parisian printer, has just written and printed a beautiful little volume entitled Anne Boleyn, which is spoken of as "a careful and pains-taking attempt to exhibit a character hitherto strangely disfigured by party writers, in its true light."

Root of the Devil.—There is a strange root called the Devil's Bit Scabious, of which quaint old Gerard observes: "The great part of the root seemeth to be bitten away: old fantasticke charmers report that the devil did bite it for envie, because it is an herbe that hath so many good virtues, and is so beneficial to mankinde." Sir James Smith as quaintly observes, "the malice of the devil has unhappily been so successful, that no virtue can now be found in the remainder of the root or herb."– Knowledge for the People. Part xiv.

Onions.—The British onion is of the worst description, those of Egypt and India being considered great delicacies. Their strong, disagreeable odour is attributable to the sulphur which they contain, and which is deposited by their juice, when exposed to heat.—Ibid.

Spanish Liquorice is so called from its being manufactured only in Spain and Sicily. The root grows naturally in those countries and in Languedoc, and in such abundance in some parts of Sicily, that it is considered the greatest scourge to the cultivator.—Ibid. (Our brewers and distillers would not be of this opinion were liquorice indigenous to this country.)

Heat in Plants.—Lamarck tells us of a plant, which during a few hours of its growth, is "so hot as to seem burning." Its greatest heat is stated at nearly 45 degrees above the temperature of the air in which the plant was growing.

Iceland is perhaps the most deplorable spot on the world's map. "Not very long ago it counted at least 100,000 inhabitants. Depopulated by time, which has more than once introduced frightful pestilence, there are now not half that number. Their occupation is that of shepherds and fishermen, for the bitterness of the climate makes all agricultural labours vain or unproductive. They are scattered over the wide wastes of the country, far distant, in huts and farms, and it was only in 1787 that any portion of the population was gathered into towns, if towns may be called the two spots where a few families have their abode together."—For. Quart. Rev.

Tobacco and Snuff.—Tobacco is a narcotic and depressing poison, whose effect on the nerves and stomach is to destroy the appetite, prevent the perfect digestion of the food, create an unnatural thirst, and render the individual who uses it nervous and otherwise infirm. Snuff destroys the sense of smell, and causes a very disagreeable alteration in the voice. It also produces head-ache in the course of time; and by the distillation of its juice which falls from the posterior nostrils into the stomach during sleep, gives rise to weak and painful digestion.—Dr. Granville.

Early Rising.—From March to November, at least, no cause, save sickness, or one of equal weight, should retain us in bed a moment after the sun has risen.—Dr. Granville. (What say the lazy Londoners to this? In Paris, shops are opened and set out for the day before six o'clock in the mornings of spring, summer, and great part of autumn.)

Food.—Many articles of consumption, introduced in the reign of Henry VIII, the following distich embraces a few:—

Turkey, carp, hops, pricard, and beer.
Came into England all in one year. (1525.)

Ince's Outline of English History.

notes

1

See Rambler, No. 38.

2

It appears to have been called Brighton in a terrier of lands, dated in 1660.

3

In the years 1800 and 1801, when wheat was at an unprecedented price, the occupiers of farms on the South Downs converted much of their downland into tillage, from which they acquired abundant crops of corn. The green sward when once ploughed, can never be restored to its former verdure, and although grass seeds have been yearly sown in succession for more than 80 years upon down formerly broken up and converted into arable land, the distinctions between these parts and the original down is still clearly perceptible.

4

See the remains of a Druidical altar at Goldstone (Gor or Thor stone) bottom, about a mile to the north-west of the town.

5

A Mosaic pavement has been discovered at Lancing, within nine miles west of the town.