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Adieu ! ye
And must we bid sweet Philomel adieu ? “Can I be permitted to speak a few words
She that was wont to charm us in the grove? to you, sir?" said the applicant. Must Nature s livery wear a sadder hue, tainly, sir," replied sir Robert. “Then
And a dark canopy be stretch'd above? I wish to ask you, sir, whether, if I am Yes—for September mounts his ebon throne, attacked by thieves in the streets or roads, And the smooth foliage of the plain is gone. I should be justified in using fire-arins Libra, to weigh the harvest's pearly store,
against them, and putting them
to death ?” The golden balance poizes now on high,
Sir Robert Baker replied, that every man The calm serenity of Zephyr o'er,
had a right to defend himself from robbers Sol's glittering legions to th' equator fly,
in the best manner he could ; but at the At the same hour he shows his orient head, same time he would not be justified in, And, warn'd by Thetis, sinks in Ocean's bed. using fire-arms, except in cases of the
* Oh! I am very damask roses,
which remind The maiden fair-one, how her charms decay; furnished at this office with a license to
much obliged to you, şir; and I can be Ye rising blasts, oh ! leave some mark behind, carry arms for that purpose!" The answer, Some small memorial
the sweets of May; of course, was given in the negative, Ah! no—the ruthless season will not hear, Nor spare one glory of the ruddy year.
though not without a good deal of sur
prise at such a question, and the inquirer No more the waste of music sung so late bowed and withdrew.
From every bush, green orchestre of love,
THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER.
Here the rude clamour of the sportsman's ers call,
joy, Choose their recess in some sequester'd wall.
The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn,
Would tempt the muse to sing the rural game ; Yet still shall sage September boast his pride,
How, in his mid-career, the spaniel struck, Some birds shall chant, some gayer flowers Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nose, shall blow,
Out-stretched, and finely sensible, draws full, Nor is the season wholly unallied
Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey;
As in the sun the circling covey bask
Through the rough stubble turn the secret eye.
Their idle wings, entangled more and more :
Nor on the surges of the boundless air,
Though borne triumphant, are they safe; the Mean Temperature .
gun, Glanc'd just, and sudden, from the fowler's
O'ertakes their sounding pinions; and again, September 1.
Immediate brings them from the towering GILES.
Dead to the ground : or drives them wideThis popular patron of the London dispers'd, district, which furnishes the “ Mornings Wounded, and wheeling various, down the at Bow-street" with a large portion of
wind. amusement, is spoken of in vol. i. col. These are not subjects for the peaceful muse, 1149.
Nor will she stain with such her spotless song;
The whole mix'd animal ereation round Until this day partridges are protected Alive, and happy, 'Tis not joy to her, by act of parliament from those who are This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death; “privileged to kill.”
This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth
Awakes impatient, with the gleaming morn; Application for a License. When beasts of prey retire, that all night long, In the shooting season of 1821, a fash- Urod by, necessity, had rang'd the dark, ionably dressed young man applied to Asham'd. Not so the steady tyrant man,
As if their conscious ravage shunn'd the light, sir Robert Baker for a license to kill- Who with the thoughtless insolence of power not game, but thieves. This curious ap- Inflam’d, beyond the most infuriate wrath plication was made in the most serious of the worst monster that e'er roam'd the and business-like manner imaginable. waste,
the cruel chase, And o'er the open fields with rapid speed Amid the beamings of the gentle days. To the close shelt'ring covert wing their way: Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, When to the hedge-rows thus the birds For hunger kindles you, and lawless want;
repair, But lavish fed, in nature's bounty rollid, Most certain is our sport; but oft in brakes To joy at anguish, and delight in blood, So deep they lie, that far above our head Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. The waving branches close, and vex'd we hear
So sings the muse of “The Seasons” on The startled covey one by one make off. the one side; on the other, we have“ the Now may we visit some remoter ground; lay of the last minstrel” in praise of My eager wishes are insatiate yet, “Fowling," the “rev.John Vincent, B. A. And end but with the sun. curate of Constantine, Cornwall,” whose
Yet happy he, “passion for rural sports, and the beau- Who ere the nooontide beams infame the skies,
Has bagg’d the spoil; with lighter step he ties of nature,” gave birth to
treads, where nature and sport were to be the Nor faints so fast beneath the scorching ray. only features of the picture," and wherein The morning hours well spent, should mighty he thus describes.
toil Full of th' expected sport my heart beats Require some respite, he content can seek high,
Th' o'er-arching shade, or to the friendly farm And with impatient step I haste to reach Betake him, where with hospitable hand The stubbles, where the scatter'd ears afford His simple host brings forth the grateful A sweet repast to the yet heedless game.
draught How my brave dogs o'er the broad furrows Of honest home-brew'd beer, or cider cool. bound,
Such friendly treatment may each fowler find Quart'ring their ground exactly. Ah! that Who never violates the farmer's rights, point
Nor with injurious violence, invades Answers my eager hopes, and fills my breast His fields of standing corn. Let us forbear With joy unspeakable. How close they lie ! Such cruel wrong, though on the very verge Whilst to the spot with steady pace I tend. Of the high waving field our days should point. Now from the ground with noisy wing they
burst, And dart away. My victim singled out,
The pen of a country gentleman comIn his aërial course falls short, nor skims
municates an account of a remarkable Th' adjoining hedge o'er which the rest unhurt character created by “love of the gun.” Have pass'd. Now let us from that lofty hedge Survey with heedful eye the country round;
THE LOSCOE MISER. That we may bend our course once more to
For the Every-Day Book. The scatter'd covey: for no marker waits About sixty years ago, at Loscoe, a Upon my steps, though hill and valley here, small village in Derbyshire, lived James With shrubby copse, and far extended brake
Woolley, notorious for three things, the Of high-grown furze, alternate rise around.
very good clocks he made, his eccentric Inviting is the view,-far to the right
system of farming, and the very great In rows of dusky green, potatoes stretch, care he took of his money. He was, like With turnips mingled of a livelier hue.
Elwes and Dancer, an old bachelor, and Towards the vale, fenc d by the prickly furze That down the hill irregularly slopes,
for the same reason, it was a favourite Upwards they seem'd to fly ; nor is their flight maxim with him, and ever upon his lips, Long at this early season. Let us beat,
that “fine wives and fine gardens are With diligence and speed restrain'd, the mighty expensive things :" he conseground,
quently kept at a very respectful distance Making each circuit good.
from both. He had, indeed, an unconNear yonder hedge-row, where high grass querable dread of any thing “fine," or and ferns
that approached in any way that awful The secret hollow shade, my pointers stand. and ghost-like term “expensive.” How beautiful they look! with outstretch'd It would seem that Woolley's avaricious
tails, With heads immovable and eyes fast fix'd,
bias, was not, as is generally the case, his One fore-leg rais’d and bent, the other firm,
first ruling passion, though a phrenoloAdvancing forward, presses on the ground !
gist, might entertain a different opinion. Convolv'd and Autt'ring on the blood-stain'd
*When young,” says Blackner in his Hiscarth,
tory of Nottinghamshire," he was partial The partridge lies :-thus one by one they fall, to shooting ; but being detected at his Save what with happier fate escape untouch'd, sport upon the estate of the depraved
William Andrew Horne, Esq. of Butterly shabby and vagrant appearance nearly (who was executed on the 11th of Decem- excluded him from the scene of good-eaiber, 1759, at Nottingham, for the murdering, and even when the burgesses sat of a child) and compelled by him to pay down to table, no one seemed disposed the penalty, he made a vow never to cease to accommodate the miserly old gentlefrom labour, except when nature com- man with a seat. The chairs were quickly pelled him, till he had obtained sufficient filled : having no time to lose, he crept property to justify him in following his under the table and thrusting up his head favourite sport, without dreading the forced himself violently into one, but not frowns of his haughty neighbour. He before he had received some heavy blows accordingly fell to work, and continued on the bare skull. at it till he was weary, when he rested, and The most prominent incident in his “to it again," -a plan which he pursued history, was a ploughing scheme of his without any regard to night or day. He own invention. He had long lamented denied himself the use of an ordinary that he kept horses at a great expense for bed, and of every other comfort, as well the purposes of husbandry. To have kept as necessary, except of the meanest kind. a saddle-horse would have been exiravaBut when he had acquired property to gant-and at last fancying he could do qualify bin to carry a gun, he had lost without them, they were sold, and the all relish for the sport; and he continued money carefully laid by. This was a trito labour at clock-making, except when umph—a noble saving! The winter passbe found an opportunity of trafficking in ed away, and his hay and corn-stacks land, till he had amassed a considerable stood undiminished; ploughing time howfortune, which he bequeathed to one of ever arrived, and his new plan must be his relations. I believe he died about carried into effect.
The plough was 1770."
drawn from its inglorious resting place, It must have been a singular spectacle and a score men were summoned from to any one except Woolley's neighbours, the village to supply the place of horses. who were the daily observers of his habits, At the breakfast-table he was not without to have seen a man worth upwards of fears of a famine-he could starve him20,0001. up at five in the morning brush- self, but a score of brawny villagers, huning away with his bare feet the dew as he gry, and anticipating a hard day's work, fetched
up his cows from the pasture, his would eat, and drink too, and must be sashoes and stockings carefully held under tisfied. They soon proceeded to the field, his arm to prevent them from being in- where a long continued drought had made jured by the wet ; though, by the by, a the ground almost impenetrable; the day glance at them would have satisfied any became excessively hot, and the men tugone they had but little to fear from the ged and puffed to little purpose; they dew or any thing else. A penny loaf again ate heartily, and drank more good boiled in a small piece of linen, made him ale than the old man had patience to an excellent pudding; this with a half- think of; and difficult as it was, to force penny worth of small beer from the vil- the share through the unyielding sward, lage alehouse was his more than ordinary it was still more difficult to refrain from dinner, and rarely sported unless on holy- laughing out at the grotesque figure their days, or when he had a friend or tenant group presented. They made many wry to share the luxury.
faces, and more wry furrows, and spoiled Once in his life Woolley was convicted with their feet what they had not ploughof liberality. He had at great labour and ed amiss. But this was not all. * Had a expense of time made, what he considered, balloon been sent up from the field it a clock of considerable value, and, as it could scarcely have drawn together more was probably too large for common pur- intruders; he tried, but in vain, to keep poses, he presented it to the corporation them off; they thronged upon him from of Nottingham, for the exchange. In re- all quarters ; his gates were all set open turn he was made a freeman of the town. or thrown off the hooks; and the fences They could not have conferred on him a broken down in every direction. Woolley greater favour: the honour mattered not perceived his error; the men, the rope -but election-dinners were things which traces, and the plough were sent home in a powerfully appealed through his stomach hurry, and with some blustering, and many to his heart." The first le attended was oaths, the trespassers were got rid of. The productive of a ludicrous incident. His fences were mended, and the gates re
placed, and having to his heart's content prits, and dream all night long of what
The almanac day for Bartholomew fair, could discover something better and less is on the third of the month, which this “ expensive !"
year fell on a Sunday, and it being pre
scribed that the fair shall be proclaimed NATURALISTS' CALENDAR.
on or before the third,” proclamation Mean Temperature , 60 · 40. was accordingly made, and the fair com
menced on Saturday the second of Sep
tember, 1826. September 2.
Its appearance on that
and subsequent days, proves that it is LONDON BURNT, 1666.
going out like the lottery, by force of public This notice in our almanacs was de opinion; for the people no longer buy
lottery tickets even in the last lottery," scriptively illustrated in vol. i. col. 1150, nor pay as they used to do at “ Bartlemy 165.
fair." There were this year only three BARTHOLOMEW FAIR, 1826. shows at sixpence, and one at twopence ; Another year arrives, and spite of cor- all the rest were only a penny.” poration“ resolutions,” and references to The sixpenny shows were, Clarke, with “the committee,” and “ reports,” and riders and tumblers; Richardson, with his “ recommendations,” to abolish the fair, tragi-comical company, enacting “ Paul it is held again. “Now," says an agree- Pry;" and wicked Wombwell, with his able observer, “ Now arrives that Satur. fellow brutes. nalia of nondescript noise and nonconfor- In the twopenny show were four lively mity, ‘Bartlemy fair ;'-—when that prince little crocodiles about twelve inches long, . of peace-officers, the lord mayor, changes hatched from the eggs at Peckham, by his sword of state into a sixpenny trum- steam; two larger crocodiles; four cages pet, and becomes the lord of misrule and of fierce rattle snakes; and a dwarf lady. the patron of pickpockets; and lady Hol- In the penny shows were a glass-blower, land's name leads an unlettered mob in- sitting at work in a glass wig, with rows stead of a lettered one; when Mr. Rich- of curls all over, making pretty little teaardson maintains, during three whole cups at threepence each, and miniature days and a half, a managerial supremacy tobacco pipes for a penny; he was asthat must be not a little enviable even in sisted by a wretched looking female, who the eyes of Mr. Elliston himself; and was a sword-swallower at the last figure, Mr. Gyngell holds, during the same pe- and figured in this by placing her feet on riod, a scarcely less distinguished station hot iron, and licking a poker nearly red as the Apollo of servant-maids ; when hot with her tongue. In “ Brown's grand • the incomparable (not to say eternal) company from Paris," there were juggling, young Master Saunders' rides on horse- tight-rope dancing, a learned horse, and back to the admiration of all beholders, playing on the salt-box with a rolling-pin, in the person of his eldest son; and when to a tune which is said to be peculiar to all the giants in the land, and the dwarfs the pastime. The other penny shows too, make a general muster, and each were nearly as last year, and silver-haired proves to be, according to the most cor- ladies and dwarfs, more plentiful and less rect measurement, at least a foot taller or in demand than learned pigs, who, on shorter than any other in the fair, and in that account, drew “ good houses." fact, the only one worth seeing,—all the In this year's fair there was not one rest being impostors ! In short, when “up-and-down," or “ round-about." every booth in the fair combines in itself The west side of Giltspur-street was an the attractions of all the rest, and so per- attractive mart to certain "men of letplexes with its irresistible merit the rapt ters;" for the ground was covered with imagination of the half-holyday school. “ relics of literature." In the language boys who have got but sixpence to spend of my informant, for I did not visit the upon the whole, that they eye the out. fair myself, there was a path of genius" sides of each in a state of pleasing de- from St. Sepulchre's church to Cock-lane. spair, till their leave of absence is expired He mentions that a person, apparently an twice over, and then return home filied with visions of giants and gingerbread
• Mirror of the Months.
agent of a religious society, was anxiously fer walking where I walked when novelty busy in the fair distributing a bill en- was charming; where I can have the titled—“ Are you prepared to die?” pleasure of recollecting that I formerly
felt pleasure of rising to the enjoyment of a spirit hovering over the remains it had
animated. ROMAN REMAINS AT PENTONVILLE,
One of my oldest, and therefore one of and
my still-admired walks is by the way of THE WHITE CONDUIT.
Islington, I am partial to it, because,
when I was eleven years old, I went every I am not learned in the history or the evening from my father's, near Red Lionscience of phrenology, but, unless I am
square, to a lodging in that village " for mistaken, surely in the days of “ cranio
a consumption," and returned the followlogy," the organ of inhabitiveness.” was ing morning. I thus became acquainted called the organ of travelling.” Within with Canonbury, and the Pied Bull
, and the last minute I have felt my head in Barnesbury-park, and White Conduitsearch of the development. I imagine it house; and the intimacy has been kept must be very palpable to the scientific, up until presumptuous takings in, and for I not only incline to wander but to enclosures, and new buildings, have nearly locate. However that may be, I cannot destroyed it
. The old site seems like an find it myself—for want, I suppose, of a old friend who has formed fashionable topographical view of the cranium, and I acquaintanceships, and lost his old hearthave not a copy of Mr. Cruikshank's warming smiles in the constraint of a new “ Illustrations of Phrynology” to refer to. face. At home, I always sit in the same place,
In my last Islington walk, I took a if I can make my way to it without dis- survey of the only remains of the Roman turbing the children; all of whom, by the encampment, near Barnesbury-park. This by, (I speak of the younger ones,) are is a quadrangle of about one hundred great sticklers for rights of sitting, and and thirty feet, surrounded by a fosse or urge their claims on each other with a ditch, about five-and-twenty feet wide, persistence which takes all my authority and twelve feet deep. It is close to the to abate. I have a habit, too, at a friend's west side of the present end of the house of always preferring the seat I New Road, in a line with Penton-street; dropped into on my first visit; and the immediately. opposite to it, on the east same elsewhere. The first time I went to side of the road, is built a row of houses, the Chapter Coffee-house, some five-and, at present uninhabited, called Minervatwenty years ago, I accidentally found place. This quadrangle is supposed to , myself alone with old Dr. Buchan, in the have been the prætorium or head quarters same box; it was by the fireplace on the of Suetonius, when he engaged the British left from Paternoster-row door: poor queen, Boadicea, about the year 60. The Robert Heron presently afterwards enter- conflict was in the eastward valley below, ed, and then a troop of the doctor's fami- at the back of Pentonville. Here Boadicea, liars dropped in, one by one; and I sat in with her two daughters before her in the the corner, a stranger to all of them, and
same war-chariot, traversed the plain, therefore a silent auditor of their pleasant haranguing her troops; telling them, as disputations. At my next appearance I Tacitus records, “that it was usual to forbore from occupying the same seat, the Britons to war under the conduct of because it would have been an obtrusion women," and inciting them to on the literary community; but I got into geance for the oppression of public liberty, the adjoining box, and that always, for the for the stripes inflicted on her person,
for period of my then frequenting the house, the defilement of her virgin daughters;” was my coveted box. After an absence declaring " that in that battle they must of twenty years, I returned to the “Chap- . remain utterly victorious or uiterly perish: ter," and involuntarily stepped to the old such was the firm purpose of her who spot; it was pre-occupied; and in the was a woman; the men, if they pleased, doctor's box were other faces, and talkers might still enjoy life and bondage.” The of other things. I strode away to a dis- slaughter was terrible, eighty thousand of tant part of the room to an inviting the Britons were left dead on the field; it vacancy, which, from that accident, and terminated victoriously for the Romans, my propensity, became my desirable sit- near Gray's-inn-lane, at the place called ting place at every future visit. My strolls“ Battle Bridge,” in commemoration of abruad are of the same character. I pre- the event.