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SLiterattti 1 *
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^snrg.
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EVILS OF A STATE CHURCH.
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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THE BBOKEN VIOLIN . ( From . Heranger ) . COttE hither , Tray , poor T&ithfnl Tjeast—Coins rat , in spite of © ur despair i ^ e * re still a cake left from the feast , To-morrow brings us poorer fate . Stosgen . "who "won by fraud their sway , Oa yesterday , here in the plain , Called to T a dance—I ¦ would not play ; TUey broke my violin in twain . It ni the Tillage music all—Good-bye to feasts , to holidays . Rto now at eve to dance will call ? yTbo = oir -will -troke the lover ' s lays ? It » chord ,, the mirthful touch applied , As dawned the morn to her so dear , Gyre warning to the trembling bride ,
Her bridegroom's wedding-train drew near The dance itself would leas confound Barsb bigot * than its joyous string , The mirth , its music spread around , Would cot hsYe ft&red to mock a king . "While glorious deeds our land achiered , Acd Vade it hymns of triumph wake , On it , wald Ih * ve e ' ei bettered , The ttrazger ' a hand revenge should take ? Cone hither , Tray , poor faithful beast—Come eat , in spite ef out despair } ¦ prt * re still a cake left from the feast , To-morrow brings us poorer fare . Slowly ^ for me , stretched on the grass , Henceforth its length will Sunday spin ; Will HeaTen the vintage bless , alas ! Bercn -without the Tiolin ?
It ci ? d the longest toils assuage , Believe the poor man ' s evil lot , For great men , t-ocea , tempest's rage , It—only it—consoled his cot It silenced hatreds > y its mirth , Dried bitter tears that else would flow _\ * o sceptre eTer yet on earth Did so ranch good as did my bow . But cow , the foe we haTe to chase His roused my courage all within ;
ily hands the musket shall embrace Instead of my lost Tiolin . And friends , I part from now , perchance , If I should fall , shall one day tell"Be wonld not see th' invader dance Tpon the soil he loTed so well " Come cither , Tray , poor honest beast—Come eat , in spite of our despair ! W ^ 've still a take left from ihe feast , Tc-ioorruw brings us poorer fare . M . J . B .
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THOJIAS CAMPBELL . ( Trcm ttt Xev York Sun . J The following brilliant lines are from the pen of the dutmgniihed orater , William Wallace , E-rq . The last ixm Terses we consider a truly magnificent tribute toths great poet , Campbell . 2 Cgt that thou hast a glorious lyre—Sol zbst thy mnse , with eye of fire Aid angel-pinion , can aspire To starry clime , Where Scotia ' s Bard , * with Song ' s bright Hire , Sits crowned _ rubli _ ae :
Not that thy stirring name is told ¦ Whenever Albion ' s flag , unrolled , Speaks " Empire" on its ancient fold ; For theie I read"Nations , while earth hathBerres or gold , Te ' re doomed to Heed . ' "¦}• Kc 1 not for theae thy name is sung In Freedom ' s land by old and young—From harp to harp responsive rung : It is that thon , O truthful bard ! ses'at glory flong On every brow .
T _ s that the Tision of my mind , Not veiled by tyranny , can find A light , which is frcm heaTen , enEhnned In all around ; 3 ThJ ] e pl _ in _ , where d-weHs the lowly hind , Are " hallowe * ground . ' J Tis that thy harp , heloTed so well By Freedom ' s child , hath thrown a spell Immortal o ' er the land of Tell ; With tbee "wb turn Where those at Trocadero fell , And Bannockburn J
These are the awful themes that dart Xike warrior-angels through the heart , Even when sung , devoid of art , By common lyre j But when from Campbell's chord they start , The aoal ' s on fire ! In Freedom ' s host we seem arrayed ; With Bruce we clench the fl-ibing- bh . de , And welcome in the sulphury shade"The charging cheer : ** Or ssfle , though by the death-shot laid On Moody bier . Ttsn 1 st your marble wed the skies , Whan lords have sundered earthly iSes . ' Let even pyramids arise
To heaven ' s bine span : Man rears a nobler pile , ween dies The friend of man I A spirit-temple where each feeling , ~ Psie as the white-robed seraph kneeling Befcrs an altar-shrine , is pealing A burial-song , TThoss ¦ words , like Ms , are hate revealing To tyrant wrong . 0 Scotia J birth-land of my sire . ' Will may thy lofty browj «_ spire , Wia . g'zrug on thy Wallace-fire—Icy patriot urns—Scott ' s , Campbell ' s glory , and the lyre Of Sobert Bums I
These W 2 tai mem * ries that out-last An empire ' s sceptre , and shall cast Through the Ei £ - _>\ ii shadows vast TxraTei time Aye , live -when even stars haTe past Away—sublime .
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* See Camp-bell ' s Ode to Bams . T Each have the aristocracy , not the people , of Eng teza , virtually written on the nati 9 nal standard . t Campbell .
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ILLUSTR ATIONS OF A LITERARY LIFE OP THE LAST CENTURY .
ST JOH-T SAX ^ fDKBS . ( Tnm ihe lUvmixateel HagazincJ TEOMAS CHATTERTON . Its Chinese have an art of a remarkable kind ; anfl wmdj , K > EEderiD £ simply their object , they hare « ar-° « i to a high pitch of excellence . Does an acorn gerornate m their gardens , and prepare to put forth its fSranon- systems of leaves , and stems , and branches , « xooow each after each , in marvellous , and , for many » century , never-ending succession—then steps forth » 6 Celestial horticulturist ; hewiU teach the magniwfflt seedling how to grow . Has it fot _ ad gei _ Ul S ^ nBhaeat in the earth be . oT ? for its Mots , he remoTes ^«» = iore £ iCTDe boB ; he compmsts Ihe roots into ^ mrllfcst possible space : nay , if with innate energy * PV Will Btill expand , ie enta them mrielT h */* .
f »« b is rain and the dews fall , and the leaves drink » me hwvenly wine—doth the straggling plant , as ™*? feen Mood circlea Ihrongb its veins still rise , and feT ^ . Dp ? 'ard towards the heavens—then are the r ™ f 5 » btnt down by main force , or even broken w" ^ , t ^ Sh 5 then is the hark lacerated ; until , at S ^« - ^ ^ ^ * " its attempts at development , S " ?^ tftids to its fate . Ton would not S , ^ lt ls most true—that stunted , deformed r ™*_ K » torg more centnriM oia thsn it t > ? tM . > , e «
w ^ n ^ "wnWilB ofiipricg of the giants of lie ™« - iut then , mark you , how complete it is in its yrn ^ r ?* ° ana &nit 5 « ei » w delightfully S ?* dandle lfc * Ton « ° . -without the KZ ^ f / v ) priEty ' P 1 " ifc nP ° n the Tery- drawing-SiJ * after dinner , as a part of the mental deaerl ^ Process here described is * aid to be peculiar to % * n *~ Abenreest of mistakea , Whit fiia eaxt « m rawasw . no aB ^ occaaBnal freak to the lofty Sbt'JKT ^ ' 8 phit of "" BOdal sy em ** eter - « wjstrmng to do -with hnman hearfe and souls , and f »» € * peaaUy with the mightier existences that , from tilth , * ^^ " * Toacb * afed to the Trorld to teach it * tSf % m 0 Bt Deedl to toow - ^ raei a = a fortunate ubb , tne plant ia mere « nc ««» ftiilv ^ vnrr ^ tv , « n 1 « t
& , „?? - Bot onJ 7 because jiith is more manageable ^ f tes ^ also that in-the one case there ia a sort » rn 1 reit , which prodnces an unwearied are and ^^ on j a state of feeling that has no parallel in the WhtI ? > de 8 pUettie ytfem , great men So rise ; ^ m& howerer , generaUy » bont them , the marks of iaa * tural condifions to which their growth has ^^ Waected . And then how great thBTronSei at this aiatttr ^^ bo ' exemplary the indignation at J ^* fel iwat But if at the hest tfae ^ rocea he but ? SftS'SL ^^ T * 1 to lt ** *• " worBfc ? ^^^ ^ larT « T stra ?^ e is at its height , the mind that might tenlY ^ rff" 5 aickened BBd glorified tie world « ud-•^ WhW ^ T ' and * ^ nenched almost at ita bouwsI . "iifij jll the heart tV « t mmi , t ^ u Ut , ^ t ™ : ni ™ . « i
ft * . ^ SP * ^ » common sympathy , unexpectedly Q ^ T-r tbe » w » hdHiing weight of Its own f hjthrt fet ttoss woo have faith : in ^ Uie philoso-• MWhP ^ i 116 * 8 ra " ^ achiere its true Btiength , * » tKl : **?^ !^^ . by the aidrather than in spite ai * $ *** « ffie itfiuences-who tbJnto , in short , » eotoTJ i ^ " ^ bw * » ot howto grow-with out SS ^ helpline-bear with n a while , as & Vtt » T * T « n , »»« kafta hand , but not irjeTerenUal tetoa / 9 wt Qt a «* iiiacipline cpoa Thomas Cliat-
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Jtt 3 fc eighty-seven years ago , was seen running about the streets of BriBtol a chfld , Borne five years old , whose rouni , rosy , and dimpled cheeks , flaxen hair , and cheerful , animated countenance , told of the joyous and careless innocence of Infant life . As yet , all the honours and all the wealth that life might promise , were at nought in comparison with that little bag full of fruit and nuts which be so cherished beneath his little pet * tieoat But he grow * not to the mind of those who loTe him . He is a dunce ! His mother wnds him to school ; but it is only to find him returned upon their hands , as incapable of instruction . She then tries him herself ; hut in vain . Her very love makes her feel more bitterly hex disappointment . The boy hears again and again that he is an absolute fooL The poor mother
forgets , or knoWB sot how to road aright the tact , that her little fellow la clre&dy master of tis playmates , and " t&ey bii hired Eemnta ; ~ or that he is already thitking—tills child of five jears old—of ^ vingbd angels trumpeting his name over the world . But love can seldom go far wrong ; and never did mother l # ve her child more devotedly than she loved him . It was that which taught her—no philosopher an education—to adopt one of the wisest of expedients to induce the reluctant brain to work in the direction she wished . One day she showed Thomas an old French musical manuscript , with the capital letters gorgeously emblszoned ;
and the business was cone : to use the boy ' s own words " he fell in love * ' with learning from ttat hour . Those magnificent initial l = utrs were soon mastered ; then an old blsck-letter bitno vas taken in hai > d , and found no less tasy ; and brioie three yeais more had passed " away , the glad mother found she had arou&ed a spirit that it tasked all her efforts to satisfy . From the time her hoy rose in the morning to that when he unwillingly resigned himstlf lo sleep at nigkt , the cry was still Books ! Bocks ! The mothtr knew no : the grandeur of the ttting she "was nurturing -with bo much love ; but who can doubt that the growtli was adv&ucing , on the ¦ whole , most gradually ?
Aud now begins society to undertake its Hhare in the boy ' s culture . Though the mother in her necessitous circumstance has , Bince ihe death of Tier husband , un ^ dertaken the duties of a schoolmistress , she now finds tar knowledge inadequate to the demand made upon it by ^ he earnest inquirer , who is so "often looking up into btr face with eyes bfeeing with almost unnatural radiance ; so she obtains his admission into a school , one of the charitable foundations of the city—Colston ' s svboel . The delight of the young scholar!—what will he not leam there ? What cares he for its well-known strictness ? They will find it hard to overtask his power of receiving and digesting instruction . "Here , " he cries txultingly , ' I shall get all the learning I want . " He goes in , and finds that all the requirements of our nature are , in Golston ' s school , summed up into
reading , writing , and arithmetic The boy is stunned and sickened by the disappointment But as he looks round to inquire its meaning , he begins to perceive that he is in a charity-school , and he rapidly learns there are things invclved in that term which touch him even more nearlj than the privation of intellectual food . AH thinga begin to assume a new aspect—his mothers poverty—their future prospects—the very world itself , pravieusly bo beautiful ; the " golden exhalations of the dawn ' have fearfully deceived him as to the true character of the country through which he is about to pass . No wonder it begins to be noticed that the boy ' s spirits have become uneven ; that for days together he hardly speaKs ; that , if spoken to , he is an unconscious listener . The oak is already moved to an uacungenial soil ; they have begun to confine and cripple its roots .
Yet it will grow on ; though , alaa ! not altogether witheut distortion . Pride will " repel eoutempt—so , the charity-boy grow * proud . Thrown back upon himself , hs is driven to consider too keenly what he is , and what he may be , in comparison with all around . Y « t be grows on vigorously . If there are no books in the school , as ha feelingly complains to his mother , there is a library , from which they may be borrowed , at the sacrifice merely of his small store of pocketmoney ; there are acquaintances , also , glad to oblige the young" student ; and thus before Chatterton had reached his twelfth year , he is able to make a catalogue of seventy books , read and studied , and which comprise the chief branches of human knowledge , but more particularly history and diTinfty . And to what did all
this tend ? is a question one would suppose there must have been many to ask with friendly solicitude ; but no , if there had b * en , the least accurate of observers could n 3 t have mistaken the boy ' s vocation—poet was indelibly stamped npon his every thought and habit . One time fcc might have been seen , while rioor-kteper of the schtol , during his week of cfEL-e , busy pntting into shape the first htir of his invention—a short and not at all remarkable poem on the Resurrection ; at another , he might have bsen found on the steps of Redcliff Church , Teheaising poems to his companions . It is curious , too , to note how not only the future poet , but the poet cf antiquity -sras thus made apparent . Did h ! s
mother and sister miss him for any unusual length of time , he was rccst lik-. iy to be discovered in the aislea cf . BedelifF Cfcaicb , by the tomb of Canynge , or rummaging about In one of the tewera . When he rambled in the fields , a favourite custom of his , that noble church of Redcliff still as mixed with all his thoughts , that he could not bear to lose sUht of it , bnt would , as one of his companions has described , lie down in the jpeadtws , fix his eyes upon the revered structure , and " remain lost in a kind of ecatacy . If there be souis in that iliuminatfed musical manuscript , and in that old . black-letter bible , to which we have before a-luded —aBd who will say there are not ?—how much have they not to answer for .
One of the most striking incidents to be found in the mental history of our poet , seems to us to be that sudden lightening of the heart and aind whieh Chatterton experienced when he began to write ; and which is only more trustworthy that those who recorded the change knew not its mendng . Delicious is the first consciousness of power ; bnt to taste the pleasure in tbe most exquisite state of development , one must be a poet ; and such a poet as Chatterton , in whom the " thick coming fancies" that were grappled with , and conquered , wferc but heralds of the toiiraituous Bplenflonr that appeared comirg on , endlcshiy , in tbe distance . Life again grew bright , Ma carter was fixed , the"t * mple " shone afar , and he , a boy no longer , except in years , addressed himself manfully to the business of toiling up
tbe " steep . " It was a maxim of his , that God bad sent kis creatures into the world with arms long enough to reacfe anything , if thoy chose to be at the trouble . In many a little trait did he himself evidence this truth ; few things , mechanical or intellectual that he could not do ; was there , for instance , anything out of order in his mother's house , Thomas was sure te be set to execute thsEecessary repair . But great things were now to be done ; and these were only to be achieved greatly . So he drank nothing but water , he ate only bread , and , when pressed to share in his mother ' s occasional dainties ol a hot dinna or Bupper , would exclaim he *• had a work in hand , and must not make himself more stupid than God bad made him . " His studies were as multifarious as incessant . One of his youthfnl companions
has siid of him in reference to a time later by a year or so than that to which we especially relei , but to which it la equally applicable : —•• Oae day he might 1 » found busily employed in the study of heraldry and English antiquities , both of which are numbered among his most favoured pursuits ; the next discovered him deeply engaged , confounded , and perplexed amidst the subtleties of metaphysical disquisition , or lost and bewildered in the abstruse labyrinth of mathematical researches ; and these in an instant again neglected and thrown aside to make room for astronomy and music , of both which sciences bis knowledge was entirely confined to theory . Even physic was not without a charm to allure
his imagination , and he wcuid talk of Galen , Hippocrates , snd Paracelsus with all the confidence and familiarity cf a modern empiric" The natural period of labour , the day , was insufficient for all these researches ; he seldom slept , we are informed , and often Wrote by moonlight . Hia relatives isxj often , indeed , heard him say that he found he studied Bssfc tewaids the fnli of the moon . And thus heroically was the yeung poet pressing on towards tbe fulfilment of his divine musion of shedding truth and loveliness over the world , when society ajain laid its hands upon him ; these outrageous proceedings ccnld not be submitted to ; the oak must again and more decisively be checked .
Chatterton lef : Colston ' s School in Jnly , 1767 , and tbe very same day was apprenticed to an attorney , Mr . John Lambert ; the Bchool trustees paying the usual fee of ten pounds . If the consciousness of a rare amount of intellectual power , joined to an excessive sensitiveness as to what he conceived to be the humiliating circumstances of his social position , had made Chatterton prouS ia self-defence before , there was now fresh fuel added to that anholy fire which was to consume the heart that nourished it . The charity apprentice was confined to the society of the servants in the kitchen j be slept with the foot-boy . At flr * t there appeared one Important sdTsntage : tbo necessary duties of tha office old sob rejoin , the boj ' n attention more than two or three . hours daily , and Chatterton hoped to have been able to pursue bis poetical studies in some , at least , of the leisure hours . The first discovery made by the master of his apprentice's tastes dispelled such
illusions for ever . a ? rom that time he wa»—to use Chatterton * B own words— " centinually insulting him , and making his life miserable . " These were no idle ¦ words . We know that if iambert found by chances scrap of poetry on the desk , he woald tear it instantly to pieces , and observing— " there is your stuff , " throw the scraps into the boya face . A friend of his mother , Mra , Edkins , who often gave him money to buy paper , described him as coming to her with a sad countenance , and saying— " That paper is all gone ;" explaining that his master had found It In tbe drawer , and torn it up . At the same time he would lament a mere important toss ; bis letters to friends he said he could re-write , but his poetical compositions were for ever lost . Need we wonder at the "dreariness" of aspect that was noticed in tie boy-poet—the equally visible contempt for his associates , unjust but nataT&l enough , that possessed him ; whatever else grew , pride -was being developed into a fearful state of activity .
It is important bow to pause for a moment to conaider Chatterton ' a position , to place ourselTea by his side , and look upon the prospect that lay before him . Men have talked of the living , nay , of the fortnne , that he was to have made by confining his principal exertions to his profession , and in cultivating poetry in his leisure , or later days . If practicable , had not this truly been cultivating the oak for the drawing-room ? Bat do sot sueh observations move one ' s indignation when ¦« e conridtx that , if there wax eTer a cue where it
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would have been insanity to expect success , it must have been Chatterton ' a in the law . His mother was so poor , that all Chatterton ' s expectations and hopes as regarded her , were that he might ba able to add to her little store ; to take from it was impossible . We have seen sufficient of Lambert ' s character to judge of the probability of assistance from him . How , in tbe name of common sense , was Chatterton to hope for success in the profession under such circumstances , had he been willing lo neglect one of the most sacred of human duties , that of fulfilling the mission to which it had pleased God to call him . What then could the young poet do ? How was be to extricate himself from his unnatural position ? The answer to these questions involves the great mystery of the poet ' s career . The
precise motives that induced him to make his first appeU&nCB before the world in an assumed guie « , can sever sow be known , yet ia there little difficulty with regard to them . Ha saw on all sides that respect was ever paid to some peculiarity of greatness or goodness , rather than to their essentials—that the charity-boy poet might be an excellent theme for ridicnle , for many a long year , among hU brother Bristolians , and at all events that the charity-boy was not inclined formally to make the experiment ; there can be little donbt also , that he promised himself a malicious pleasure in obtaining reputation at the cost and in spite of the whole host of literary patrons and critics who then ruled over
the republic of letters ; lastly , and above all , there was the constant pressure of the mortifications of his present position , and of an overwrought sense of tbe difficulties of his future career , unless , by some bold and happy stroke of policy , he could relieve himself . What bad be to do with policy ? asks some ingenuous reader ; we should like to ask society that taught him , the same question . But come , let us now look into a more marvellous scene than that where the slaves of the lamp in tbe Arabian tales msy be supposed to h » ve prepared the stores , winch their muter was bo to . quently and suddenly accustomed to call for—let us take a peep into the Rowley workshop .
It is a little room on tha second floor of his mother's bumble house , which stands in a back court , near tbe church . On tbe table is a great lump of ocbre , a bottle of black-lead powder , and a pounce-bag of charcoal ; and both table and floor are covered with a titter of old p rchments . Part , at least , of these appear to have been taken by Chatterton ' a father , from " Mr Canynge ' s cofre , " an old chest , kept in a room over the north porch of Redcliff Church ; though it ia highly probable that , when the young poet ' s attention was first called to them , and the idea dawned on his mind , of imitating their appearance and antiquated style of composition , in sending forth his poetry to the world , he became a large borrower from the same source . Chatterton was especially desirous to keep unknown all the secrets of this roem . Mrs . Edkins , who was often sent to fetch him down ( this was before his apprenticeship ) ,
describes him as particularly annoyed at her curiona desire to know the meaning of his blackened , and someti » es yellowed hands and face , and of bis incessant devotion to that lonely apartment Once he put his foot upon a parchment that lay on the floor to prevent her picking it up , and said to he \ half playfully , half seriously , "You are too curious and clear-sighted—I wish you would bide out of the room—it is my room . " And when she persisted in staying , on plea of wanting some of the parchments for thread papers , he would at last earnestly beg her not to touch anything there . The poet ' s modes of manufacture are not tbe less , however , to be traced with sufficient clearness ^ partly from the revelations that accidentally escaped him , partly from the examination of his productions . We will suppose him , for instance , preparing his " Excel en te Balade of Charitie . " Thus writes he two of the
verses : — The sun was gleaming in the midst of day , Dead still the air and eke the welkin blue , When from the sea arose in drear array , A heap of clouds , of sable , sullen hue ; The which full fist unto the woodland drew Hiding at once the sunne ' s festive face ; And tbe black tempeBt sweli'd , and gathered up apace . • ? The gathei'd storm is ripe ; the big drops fall ,-The sun-burnt meadews smoke , and drink the rain ; The coming ghastneu doth the cattle ' pal ; And the full flocks are driving e ' er the plain . Dath'd from the clouds the water * fly again , The welkin opes , the yellow levin flies , And the hot , fiery stream in the Tide flashing dies .
Glorious poetry > but not at all fit , in its present state , for Master Rowley , that worthy " confessor to tbe two Canynges , Robert and William , about the latter end of Henry YL , " or , as the sly poet writes with most laudable desire to be correct , " about the beginning of that of Edward IT . " So now commences the antiquating process , first of the spelling generally , thon of particular phrases , as by substituting , with the help of the Glos&ary to Speght ' a Chaucer and of those precious books , the dictionaries of Bailey and Kersey , " arist" for " arose , " " Hiltiing atenes" for " Hiding at once , " ' fetyve" for " festive , " " for-swat" for " sun burn ! ,, " " smethe , " for " stHoke . " Excellent well ; the altered passage is now carefully written on the parchment . Let us see how it reads : — The gather'd storm is rype ; the bigge drops falle ; The forswat meadows smothe , and drenche tbe raise , Ice .
Nothing can be better . Xow for tbe parchment . This is held over the candle , which at once shrivels and blackens it , and tarns the ii-fr pale . A touch of ochre gives the desired yellow tinge , and Master Rowley is soon after revealed suddenly to mankind , armed at all points against scepticism , a kind of new dt-ity of wisdom from the head of the youthful and concealed Jove . ( To Le concluded in our next . ) . . a _______
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y it ( the child ) required nursing , knowing , as I do , that she was a virtuous , well-disposed woman , and had a strong regard to decorum and propriety of oonduofc . ii gj ^ Mra . Thomson must permit us to say that the above sentiment , savouring as it does , so strongly of tke self-righteousness of the " urco guid , " ia altogether unworthy of the famod Jessie Lewars , who earned the admiration of posterity by her generous attentions to the Poet and his family , when tbe one was dyiDg , and the other , but for her , would have been reduced to the lowest depths of helpleBsnoss .
We could have wished that such a woman had no / er penned a sentiment so harsh as the above ; and we must be allowed to add , that while we dispute not the farts given by Mrs . Thomson , we must hold our own opinion as to her surmises . For the honour of human nature wo mu ? t still cling to the belief that had it been necessary Mrs Burns would have aoted iu the manner Btated by our Manchline correspondent , and not as Mrs ? . Thomson represents , notwithstanding her M regard to decorum . " We apprehend that the great majority of our readers will be of the same opinion aa ourselves .
In taking np the claims of Burns ' s daughter to public sympathy , wo are not surprised that we should have been led into some errors of but trifling importance . Too far removed from the locality where resides the subject of these discussions , to make those personal enquiries so necessary to save the conductors of the press from being imposed upon , we have had to trust , wholly to the veracity and care of our correspondents . Thus situated , it would have been wonderful indeed if wo had not been led into some errors . There is , however , one error chargeable to our Hamilton correspondent which we much
regret . _ It will be remembered that iu a former article it was stated by our correspondent , that Co ) . Burns called on his sister last winter , when he " recognized her as the daughter of his far-famed father ; but he left her in that indigent state in which he found her" Ia comnunting , on this portion of our correspondent ' s letter , we remarked that if the Colonel could vindicate himself from this charge our columns were open either to himself or friends , Neither from Colonel Buiins nor from any of his friends have we received any reply to this charge ; but from another .: source we have , and this reply aud refutation we hasten to give .
We have this week received a letter from a friend at Mauchline , ( uot our former correspondent ) , who has visited the poet ' s daughter within the last two or three week ? , and who confirms all that has been before said of her close likeness to her illustrious father , but adds : — She is not pleased with your Hamilton correspondent's interference with family matters , aa he baa stated that which is not correct It ia not true that Colonel Burns gave her no assistance when he called on her ; on the contrary , she states that the Colonel gave her a very handsome present .
This statement is confirmed from another quarter . We embrace therefore this first opportunity to do justice to Colonel Bvrns , by making the only reparation in our power—that of giving publicity to the above , at the same time expressing our regret that we should have given currency to the original miastatemeutv To prevent all . mistakes for the future , we shall not publish anything more relating to tho Poet ' s daughter unless written by hereolf , or at least with her sanction and approved by her signature . Notwithstanding the errors into which we have been led , and which we have now rcotified , the 11 great fact ' 1 of the exislciico of a daughter of Robert Bubns remains undisputed . Indeed Mrs . Thomson ' s letter ( Dumfries ) affordB tho crowning confirmation of ihis fact . It remains to bc ^ seea what tho public will do , now that the truth has been pub ' lished far and wide .
We are sorry to inform our readers that , so Car aB we know , only one of tbe public journals has at > yet responded to our appeal—n&moly , The Berwick and Keho Warder , tho Editor of which paper notices our former article as follows : — A daughter op Burns alive . —We have received a copy of the Northern Star , in which our attention is particularly directed to an article on the subject cf the national poet of Scotland . The writer asserts the existence of an illegitimate daughter of the poet , with whose history , though herself bowed down by poverty and toil , there are some interesting circumstances mixed up , in wbicb the character of Jean Armour , tbe wife of Burns , b placed in the noblest light [ Here follows a portion of the article from the Star . ]
Some little taste of tbe favour of repentant Scotland , lately so liberally bestowed upon the sons of Barns , ought to be extended to this , their poor and despised sister . We trust those noble aud learned persons who spoke ao well , upon the occasion of the late Festival , the sentiments of their couutry , will not be slow to investigate the case , and deal out an equal measure of justice to tt } ia forgotten representative of him whom they bo greatly admire . The above is highly honourable to the Editor of tho Berwick Warder , We trust his manly conduct will yet be extensively followed by the conductors of at any rate the Scottish press . Should our readers in Scotland , or elsewhere , notice any allusion to tbe matter in any of the local papers , we shall feel obliged if thoy will transmit a copy to us .
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Wacn Bhailfl be as as I have been ; XJyoa myimother ' a breast , 0 tuet Nature ' s garb of emerald green , To woo my form to rest j ^| 1 o e in the meadow , 'field , and glen , / n t in my native wilds again ? 1 h ¦ sheep withlnfthe fallow field , Tba berd upon the green , Tae larks that in the thistles shield , And pipe from morn to e ' en ; O , for the pasture , field , and fen ! When shall I feel such restagain ? I love the weeds along the fen , More sweet than garden flowers . For Freedom haunts the humble glen Tbat blest my bappy hours ; Here prisons injure health and me—I love aweet freedom and the free !
The crows upon the swelling hills , The crows upon the lea , Sheep feediBg by tbe pasture rills , Are ever dear to me ; i Because sweet freedom is their mate—Whilst I am lorn and _ desolate . I loved the winds when Ij was young , When life was dear to me ; I loved tbe song which Nature sung Enduring liberty ; i I loved the woods , the gales , the stream , For there my boyhood . uaed to dream . There toil itself was very play , 'Twaa pleasure e ' en to weep ; 'Twas joy to think of dreams by day—The bjautifui of Bleep , 4-When shall I Bee the wood , the plain . And dream those happy dreams ( . gain ?
The following modest but melodious " Address to the Kose-bud ,, ' was written some months ago -. — TO A ROSE BUD IN H . UMBLE LIFE . Sweet , uncultivated blossom , Rear'd in Spring ' s refreshing dewa , Dear to every geswr's bosom ] , Fair to every eye that viewa ; Opening bud , -whose youth can charm us , Thine be many a happy hour ; Spreading Rose , whose beauties warm us—Flourish long , my lovely fiower ! Though pride looks disdainful on thee , Scorning scenes so mean as thine , Although fortune frowns npon thee , Lovely blossom , ne ' er repine ; Health nnbought is ever with thee , What their wealth oan never gain ; Innocence doth garments give thee , Such as fashion apes in vain .
When fit time and reason grant thee Leave to quit thy parent tree , May some happy hand transplant thee To a station suiting thee . On some lover ' s faithful bosom May'st thou then thy sweets resign ; And may each unfolding blossom Open charms as sweet as thine I Till that time , may joys unceasing Thy bard ' s every wish fulfil ! When that ' B come mty joys Increasing Make thee blest and happier still t Floumb fair , thou flower of Jessy ' s , Pride of each admiring swain—Envy of despairing lasses—}
Queen of Walk-herd ' s lonely plain ! It ls sadness itself thus to hear the wandering reason , with the loving tenderness of an Ophelia , discourse so plaintively . Poor Clare ! let us , however , hope that be yet finds solace in that exercise of the mind which the beauties of Nature can btstjow ; and that , in tbe spirit of his own " Address to Solitude , " he will " Learn patience in this trying hour , To gild life ' s brambles with a flower . " Worcester , August , 1844 . j J . N . —Bcrrow's Worcester Journal . ;
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A Doo Nine Weeks without Food . —About nine weeks ago a terrier bitchj belonging to James Marshall , Grecnside , was , through mistake , locked up in a cellar , and remained there till a few days since , when , on the door being opened , she was found alive , but in a very feeble condition . She was reduced to skin and bone , unable to walk , and almost blind , having been all that time without food . Oa giving her some warm milk , she was partially brought - rotmd again , and continues to improve . —Scotsman * j The Royal Deer Stalker;—It certainly reads
rather odd , as our correspondent observes , for the Prince to go all the way to the Highlands to sheot a buck out of the bedroom windows—curious sort of deer-stalking this . The Queen , we are told , was looking out of another bedroom window at the sport , and seemed particularly delighted at it . The Prince , when he comes back , can goj waterfowl shooting on the same prineiple out of the attic windows ef Buckingham Palace . Ihere is a fine brace of swans in the ornamental water , St . Jamea ' s-park , that he eonld bring down , perhaps , with a rifle . — Weekly Chronicle . \
Foaca c » Example ' . —Much ridicule has been oast upon our good city , in consequence of our authorities having been " caught , napping" on the occasion of the Queen ' s visit ihere two yearB ago . A movement , however , has begun , which will go far to rescue our city from this unhappy reproach . In pursuance of the example of Her Majestywhoso piper , we are told , ia employed to sound the pibroch every morning at seven o ' clock , under the windows of Blair Castle , as a signal for her Majsaty to awake from her slumbers —| a few of the inhabitants of Newington have engaged a piper to perform a similar service to that neighbourhood . The piper commenced his duty yesterday ^ and is to con tinue to serenade the inhabitants till i further notice every morning between seven and ] eight o ' clock . Arrangements , we hear , are also in progress to effect the same object in George ' s-square , and we hope that other parts of the town : will speedily follow this salutary example I—Scotsman . j
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Price Sixpence , THE GRA . MMATK . aL TEXT BOOK , fir > le uso of Schools . By Wai . Hill , Author of " The Rational School Grammar , " " Fifteen Lessona on the Analogy and Syntax of the English Language , for the use of adult persons who have neglected the study of Grammar , " "The Complete English Expositor , " &o . &c . Price One Shilling , 1 J 3 B 0 GRESSIVE EXERCISES , selected with great care , and adapted to tho Rales and Ob ? erra « tions respectively contained in his Fifteen Lessons on tho-Analogy and Syntax of the English Language ^ and in bb Rational School Grammar , by Wm . Hill . Third Edition , revised and corrected .
Priee Two Shillings , FIFTEEN LESSONS on the ANALOGY and SYNTAX of ihe ENGLISH LANGUAGE , foe the use of adult persons who have neglected tho study of Grammar . By Wm . Hill . "A competent Grammatical knowledge of one own Language is the true basis on which all Jitera * ture ought to rest . "— Bishop Lowth . Fifth Edition , revised and amended . London : Watson , Paul ' s Alley , Paternoster Raw ; Cleare , Shoe Lane ; Heywood , Manchester ; Hobson , Leeds ; and by all Booksellers .
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TO THE EDITOR 017 THE NORTHERN STABMr . Editor , —Of the ma . titadineus evils generated by those systems of oligarchic misrule which have hitherto blasted the hopes and destinies of Europe , that of a State Church is the moat oppressive , tyrr _ n-_ rical , and unjust . It ia oppressive in tbe exorbitant exactions required to maintain the pageantry and splendour of its votaries , and which exactions its ally , tha State , wrings with a merciless hand from the produce of industry . Ifc is tytanniial in extorting money for which no equivalent is rendered . It is unjust for the reasons already assigned , but more . especially because it does violence to conscience in compell . ng men to pay for tbe promulgation of doctrines diametrically opposed to their notions of truth , and
consequently abhorrent to their feelings . The portraiture of state churchism , as drawn on the historic page of Europe , is that of a sanguinary monster , which has bloated and gloated on the plunder and carnage of the human race . Persecution has been its pastime , while the groans of myriads of its victims , expiring amid the most excruciating tortures , has been dulcet muBic to its monster ear ? . There never was a piece of tyranny concocted from tha establishment of the Spanish Inquisition to the persecution of tbe Miners of Cumberland and Durham , bat has found sturdy supporters in the votaries of State Churches . We have in our times seen the dignitaries of our Christian Establishment the most virulent crusaders against the people's rights ; the opponents of the smallest extension of Civil and
Religious liberty . The Catholics of the empire petition for nearly half a century for the removal of their civil disabilities , the parsons contemn their prayers and mock their sufferings ; at length a measure of relief ia brought forward by Ministers , the alarm is sounded , the clerical watchword , "Church in danger , " rever * bsnuea through tbe land , and at once their wealth , influence , and talents are concentrated to impede the progress of liberality . A Bill for the Reform of a corrupt Parliament is introduced , instantly the ' clerical phalanx is organized and arrayed beneath the banner of intolerance battling for the conservation of corruption . A bill for tbe emancipation of the Negro is introduced ; every pulpit resoands with eloquent descants upon the rights of property . The orthodox exponent * of Heaven's laws to man , preach up that no law of equity or religion is violated in stealing and dealing
in the human race , and that . slavery with all ita attendant horrors , are in perfect unison with tha ordinations of the God of Troth and Justice- As a proof that our holy-minded Bishops saw no criminality in entrapping their fellow-creatures , forcing them front the land of their birth , enchaining their bodies , dooming them to excessive toil , and defrauding them of its produce , I may mention the fact that wherr the twenty millions , which Whlggery drew from the heart of British industry , was divided among the blood-besmeared knights of the lush , many a fat clerical elava driver was present to receive his share of the blo $ < U money . But when Gagging Bills , Poor Law Bills , Coercion Bills , Police Bills , new tax-imposing bills , or any other hellish devise calculated to abridge tinman liberty , requires rapport , then may be seen the pampered minions of tht > gorgeous establishment , careering with railway celerity in the course of iniquity .
Kingcraft and prleBtcraft are the two theives between wbicb the honest and industrious have been crucified . They mutually aid each other ; they play the game of spoliation into each others hands . Usurped temporal power enacts grievioualy oppressive laws , through the operation of which the people are fleeced of the produce of their exhausting toll ; the people murmur , they menace resistance , the spiritual power steps in to the aid of its ally , preaches passive obedience and nonresistance , inculcates the enslaving dogma that the powers that be are of God , and that unqualified submission to tbe imperative duty of man . Thus are the people plundered—thus are they silenced and then Church and State retire and divide tho opoii » mone themselves , xaese considerations were called up in my
mind , by reading lately an account of the CO ^ secra-1 ion of a stand of colours by the Bishop of Winchester for the use of tbe 29 th regiment They were presented by the lady of the Colonel commanding the regiment What outrageous mockery ! what horrible blasphemy is the invocation of the divine blessisgs oa a few gundy rags that are destined to wave over myriads of mangled , murdered human beings ! The report says that a large number of the diocesan clergy were present to witness the interesting ceremony . It was doubtlesa to them interesting inasmuch aa awords , bayonets , and muskets form tbe foundation upon which the fabric of their aggrandizement is reared . The Bishop on the occasion hartangued the regiment in a strain which would harmonise better with the belligerent chracter ef
Nick of Russia , the Iron Duke , or Abdel-K&der than with that of the professed follower of the meek and lowly Jesus whose doctrines breathe lore and peace to the human race . The pious Bishop referred In glowing terms to the prodigies of valour performed by the 29 h in Canada , Copenhagen , and Waterloo , but -more especially to their recent exploits in China ! ' "Tg hear , " said the Bishop , " your praises in the House Of ! Lords as I have from the lips of the greatest captain of the age * would be worth living , would be worth dying for . " What an amount of brons ., of daring effrontery , and consummate hypocrisy this Bishop must possess to eulogise tbe' parties concerned in this monstrously nefarious war ! Let us take a cursory glance at the cir cumstaticeH that gave rise to ft . The Emperor of China
issuea an edict against the Importation of the poisonous drug opium ; British merchants , in the spirit of Free Tradeiam , become smugglers . ' They import opium in contravention of Chinese law . The illicit importations were seized by the proper authorities , just as our Custom House Officers would take tobacco or French brand J smuggled into our ports . To avenge this intuit tbe Whig Government , of which Russell was Secretary'of State , declared and waged a most sanguinary war ; which resulted in the devastation of towns and cities and tha carnage of mviiads of men , women , and children ! To defray the expences of cutting their throats , Eugland has , with characteristic magnanimity , taken from the Chinese a ' large island , and compelled them to pay six millions sterling . Such was the origin and sueh the
results of tbe Chinese war , the most disgraceful and unjustifiable that nation ever waged with nation . And yet we have this pious mitred aristocrat , pouring out his turbid and fulsome eulogy on the wretched tools whom tyranny employed to effect the work of spolla * tion and murder ! But tbe rankest specimen of the Bishop ' s hypocrisy remains yet to be noticed . He expressed a fervent hope that the success wbicb attended tbe British arms in China would be the prelude to the diffusion of gosptl-light among that heathenish peoplel The perpetuation of enormities , at the contemplation of which the heart sickens , is indeed a splendid
pioneering of the way for tbe diaseminatiea of the mild doctrines of Christianity . To hujiaaniae and Chris * tfaniza tbe savage Chinese , my Lord of Whinchester , would send them cargoes of Bibles , and bayonets , parsons and prayer-books , bishops , and blessed banners . And where Is the dullard that will say that such a precious importation is not calculated to dispel tbe darkness of heathenism from the mental hemisphere of China ! - Tes , my Lord Bishop , the Chinese must indeed be irreclaimably stultified if they do not- duly appreciate ihs Christianity of tbe British Government ^ British soldiers , and British Bishops . VlNDEX .
[ The above letter was received some weeks ago , bat was withheld up to this time through want of room . — Ed N . S . ]
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THE DAUGHTER OF ROBERT BURNS . The following letter is from a son of the veritable u " dear-bonght Bess" : — To ihe Editor of the Northern Star . 6 , Clyde-place , Glasgow , 13 , September , 1844 . Sir , —My attention was directed to an article in your journal of the 7 th instant , headed " Burns , tbe Poor Alan ' s Poet ; " and I write , to correct a mistake in that article regarding his " dear-bought Bess . " Mrs . Thomson , who is at present residing at Pollockahawa , ia E-iz-betfct , a daughter of Robert Burns ; but she is not " dear-bought Bess . " " Dtsir-bonght Bere , " as stated by Allen Cunningham in his " Land of Burns , " page 37 , was married to John Bishop , my father : she died in 1817 , at Polkemmet , parish of Whitburn . Her name ¦ of aa also Elizabeth Burns ; her mother ' s name was Elizabeth Patton , who was the Poefs " bonnie Betty . "
I hope you will correct the mistake in yonr widely ciiculaUid journal , and oblige the &on of " dear-bought Bess . " Thomas Bishop . If Mr . Bishop will refer back to our article of the 7 i . h of September , he will see that the error of which be complains appeared only in the first letter from Mr . Pabk ; thatr error was corrected in a second letter which appeared in the same article . Tbe following is from our Hamilton correspondent : — Hamilton , Sept . 8 , 1844 . Bib ., —In my last letter on Burns ' a daughter , I am sorry that I have made an error in stating that Bbe waa removed from her father ' s bouse at his death . I have called on her again , and found that she remained there till her marriage . She gives her father ' s wife & moBt excellent character , as being very kind to her . John Park .
Unfortunately the above is not the only error our Hamilton correspondent seems to havo faUen into . We last week received a letter from Mrs . Thomson , of Dumfries , the Jessie Lewabs of the Poet ' s songs , in which the -writer says : — SiTi , —I am sorry to see you have been led into error about Elisabeth , or Betty Barns , as she was called . When ahe was sent to the poofs house by her mother ' s friends she was a child about two years and a half or three yean of age , in place of an infant , as your Correspondent wonld seem to infer . It ii stated that when tbe child wjuj brought home " Jean Armour ( meaning Mrs . Burns ) nursed it . " This is not true . Mrs . Burns did not nurse it ; and I am quite certain that she would have been tbe last person to have done so , had it required nursing , knowing , as I do , that she w&s a
virtuous , well-disposed woman , and had a very strong regard to decorum and propriety of conduct It never was the intention of the poet to allow the little girl to remain in his house ; but Mrs . Burns , from motives of economy , kept her upon the understanding that Bbe was not to associate with her children , which she never did , but vi&s confined to tbe kitchen . Betty was kindly used by Mrs . Burns , and remained under bet roof , not only till the death of the poet , cut to the time she married a person , I tWnk , of tbe name of Thomson , who was said to be a weaver , after wbicb period I should imagine she could have no further claim on any of the poeVs family . I sh&U trouble you with only one further remark . It is 6 tated " the only reference made to her ( Betty ) is in the lines " To a Postbumous Child * —
" Sweet flowret , pledge o ' meikle love , " &c These lines have no reference to Betty Burns , nor could they . She was no posthumous child . The lines referred to a very different child , namely , a grandchild of tbe late Mrs . Ponlop , of Danlop , as you will see on referring to the poem iUelf , and to a letter from tbe bard to that lady , of date November , 1720 , which ' you will find in Gilbert Barns' edition of his works . I am , Sir , Your most obedient Servant , Castle-street , Dumfries , J . THOMSON . 21 st Sept , 1841 .
The first portion of the above letter is in reply to the errors of our Mauchline correspondent , the second portion is in reply to those of Mr . Park . The mistakes however , now rectified , wero not very important , and we could almost have wished that they had remained nncorrected rather than that we should have had to give publicity to Mrs . Thomson ' s letter . With all respect for that lady , we must confess we entertain no respect for the cold , harsh , antiquated pnritanism which could dictate the following words , when , denying that Mrs . Burns jmrsed the illegitimate offspring of her husband , M * . ts . Thomson adds : — . ' " And I am quite certain that she ( Mrs . Burns ) would hare been the last person to hare done so , had
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JOHN CLARE , THE PEASANT POET , Author of the "Village Minstrel" and ether Poems . Published bp Taylor and Walton . Pooe Clahe !—who has not heard of the " Village Minstrel" of Northamptonshire , the poor , benighted child of genius , who , a quarter of a centaly ago delighted us . with t _ is untaught mune , and excited oar sympathy at his humble portion ? Like the lowly but sweetly scented wild-flower , his mission was to breathe fragrance e'er Nature ' s peaceful retirements—the grove , the dell , the mountain , a&d tbe boskage by tbe stream : but ere that bad been accomplished the winter of bis bereavement sent its chilling winds and its night of darknessthough not so deepened as to afford no ray of bope to his sorrowing friends , or yet to leave hia life valueless .
Taking the opportunity of a recent visit to Northampton , I determined on proceeding to the County Asylum , where tbe subject of my narrative is confined , and will probably end tbe remainder of bis days . As , however , a total wreck of genius and reason is too pitiable a sight for a reflecting mind te endure , my visit most assuredly would not have taken place but for the knowledge that Clare was , on most subjects , tolerably rational ; moreover , he is not unfrequently visited by tbe Spirit of Song -, and although hia o&sual productions here and there bear the impress of an estranged intellect , yet be experiences moments of returning energy—tbe Spirit , as it were , reluctant to letwe her worshipper thus abruptly —wben hia verse , i- Sadly sweet ,
Such as when winds and harp strings meet , Aud take a wild unmeasur ed tone , To mortal minstrelsy unknown . The Asylum , wb . ch is situated an easy distance from the town , commands a vast and beautiful prospect , well calculated to please tbe eye , to cheer the heart , or soothe the ravings of tbe desolate creatures who have there taken up their abode . The situation also is as salubrious as any in the county , which by the bye , does not generally boast of being a fit locality for polmonsry invalids , the great elevation of Northamptonshire ( tbe highest table land in the country ) lying open to a keenness of air to which the Faculty attribute the generation of consumptive diathesis .
The arrangements of Dr . Pritchard , the resident conductor , appear to be of tbe beat order to ensure cleanliness , comfort , quietness , and security , to the unhappy beings under bis charge : and after inspecting the whole establishment , I left this , one of tbe most humiliating scenes te humanity that I ever witnessed , and returned towards the town ; the courteous Doctor ; having replied to my inquiries about poor Glare , that , being perfectly harmless , he wasi permitted to absent himself dally from tbe Asylum , and that hii favourite spot of resldeno «) wm in a niche underneath the colonade ot All Saints' Church . Here , on my arrival , I . found him . He was habited in a fustian dress , and there was nothing in his appearance which would distinguish him from tbe ordinary race of peasants , except that on
closer inspection his countenance still exhibited traces of that intellectual spirit which erewhile had lurked within . —The pioneers of age bad furrowed bis cheek , but he appeared healthy and cheerful , and readilyljolned in the conversation I had commenced . This I had in some measure propitiated by a small present of tobacco , of which 1 he makes constant use ; and while daily sitting in this niche , on an . minence commanding tbe principal thoroughfare of the town , poor Jobn Clare , by the aid of the " fragrant weed , " in a measure beguiles his loneliness , soothes the ducfuietude within , and revisits the regions of poesy . Tobacco and a pipe are seemingly the only objects of his ambition , and Ihesehe ia never without , the townspeople supplying him with abundance , in return f 01 his verses . I endeavoured to elicit the nature of bis mental delusions , but as I bad been informed , I found them to be
prote » n , and constantly varying . In common with the majority of lunatics , be has objections to the present Royal succession , and has likewise recently . fancied himself to be tbe best pugilist in . the kingdom . As to treat * ment , he is permitted to do just as he pleases ; he only sleeps in the Asylum , and returnB there to take his meals . He has an unlimited supply ef books , and is never without one in bis pocket , together with paper and pencils . His style Is now very uncertain , and always tinctured by that of the last author be has read . Sometimes bis poetry is unworthy tke name , being coarse and vulgar ; at others it is very beautiful . Tbe following piece waa written a few weeks ago ; and although tbe Teader may discover here and there a slight degree of mental confusion , yet it is so mingled with beautiful imagery and tbe consciousness of genius that I shall be readily excused for giving them publicity : —
SLEEV AND SKIING . 01 for that sweet , untroubled rest , That poets oft have sung—Like babe's upon its mother ' s breast , Or birds npon its young ; The heart aBl . ep without a pain , — When shall I sleep that sleep again ?
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A BOWL OF "TVNCHr THE QUEEN IN SCOTLAND . Sir Andrew Agnew has written a letter to the Earl of Aberdeen , though intended jas a sort of sid 9-wind epistle to Her Majesty . This letter is , on the face of it , meant as a lecture to Qaeen Victoria on her better keeping of the Sabbath . Sir 1 Andrew is grievously afraid that the Qaeen will introduce the sinful levities of Sunday-breaking England among the patent pious folk of sweetly austere Caledonia . He trembles lest the Sabbath revelry of Windsor should startle and confound the kilted proprieties of Blair Athol . Certainly , if we wanted to pick out a man of pattern impudence , we would go neither to tbe court or camp , but to tbe conventiele . Your self-thought saint ia ever & fellow ol imperturable brass . One Maw worm , in Buch material , outweighs a hundred Bobadils . iTake an
example" Scotland has , since tbe Reformation , ( says Sir Andrew , ) been distinguished amongst the nations of Christendom as a strict Sabbath-observing country , la tbe true Scriptural Bense of that word ; aud it ia this important fact wbicb , with all imaginable respect , and deference , and dutifulneas , and loyalty , it is humbly prayed may be brought to the notice , at this time , of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen , net doubting that in this , as in all other respecla . Ut is tbe gracious desire of the Royal mind to recognise , to respect , aud to gratify tho religious habits , th « peculiar characteristics . and the best principles of her Majesty ' s meat loyal and devoted subjects in this her ancient kingdom . "
That is , Sir Andrew , in plain English , bints that tbe Queen will behave herself better os Sundays in Scotland than is her wont on tbe Sabbath- ^ ay in England . As her Scotch Rubjects are in every respect a nobler , purer , more generous , and really and truly more religious people than tbe EngliBh—in fact as , past dispute , they » re the oliosen veaaela of all created flesh—ao Bhould the Queen pay to them that studious observance only due to the elect of heaven . Thus , Sir Andrew hopes that , on the Sabbath , the Qjeen will encourage no quadrille parties ; that Prince Albert will not whistle " My heart ' s in the Highlands . " and that the lit . ;© Princess will especially not play at "Beggar my Neighbour" with Lady Caroline Cocks , lt is evident that Sir Andrew fears licence of , this sort , or why with such tremendous sanctity , should be give warning to the Queen t The saintly baronet continues : —
" It would be the highest presumption to suggest to your Lordship ' s consideration the extent of tbe overwhelming moral influence which tbe example of the court is calculated to produce upon tho religious habitB of Scotland en this auspicious occasion . " Her Majesty ' s visit will extend to a few days ; yet may such brief time be fraught ! with mortal danger to the habits of the most moral people on the face of tbe earth ! For that the Scotoh are the most moral people of tbe universe , who shall be bold enough to doubt , seeing that they themselves never lose the remotest chance of declaring it ? Well , ilet ub hope the best for Scotland in her present peril ;! but had Punch baen born north of the Tweed ( think of a Scotch Punch !> be would not feel at ease for the surpassing purity of bis native land until Queen Victoria ' s court was once more fast at Windsor . :
Odd Favourites , —Some people have strange likings for strange things . Some men love Manx cats , because they have no . ails ; some Friesland hens , because their feathers sit the reverse way—but for what virtuous peculiarity , may we ask jit , of certain citizens who have ef late flourished their signatures—for what extraordinary advantage can they admire Alderman Gibbs ? We see it—doubtles " , fot his humility . Yes , simply because he holds himself a man of no account I Died , lost month , universally condemned , the political career of Lord Stanley . Tbe remains have been interred in the House of Lords . !
SCENE AT A CHOP HOUSE . A Gentleman eating his Dinner-, and reading a Paper . Another enters . 2 tu > Gent . —I'll look at that Newspaper wben you have done with ! ., Sir . 1 ST Gent . —It ' s not a Newspaper . 2 nd Gent . —No ? What is it then ? 1 st Gent . —It ' s the Morning [ Herald 2 nd Gent . —0 f—then I wont trouble you . __ _¦« - _¦ . _ ¦ __ jir ___^_ i _ f _ -i ____________________!¦ . _ n _ n _ ff _ - ¦ _^ ¦ * _* w ^ 1 * _* _*_*_
^Snrg.
^ snrg .
Evils Of A State Church.
EVILS OF A STATE CHURCH .
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A Gipset Wedding . —Married , at-Blngdon , Sepfe . " 17 , 1844 , by the Rev . Daniel Wheelor , Matthew , son of Joshua Stanley , king of the gypsies , to Martha , second daughter ol John Broadway , of the same tribe ; after the cermony they , returned to the Seymour ' s Arms , where the weddiog dinner was provided by the landlord , Mr . Hallett , in the best style , and spent the remainder of the day , returning to their camp , on Blagdon hill , at about twelve o ' olook in the evening . It is estimated that not less than 400 persons assembled to witness tho ceremony , and the bells having been set ringing , and ths Blagdon band engaged for the union , the weddingday aud the day following were kept up as holidays , —Bath Journal .
Toh Thumb . —A laughable scene , took place a § Liverpool on Thursday evening at the Liverpool Theatre . Mr . John Parry was singing The Polka explained , " in which he iatroduces , ambn £ the sigbta and doinga in London , the renowned General Tom Thumb , playing at the same time , ' $$ . the conqaeiiiig Hero comes , " cpon the upp % ribWs of the pianoforte ; just at this point a tiny voice w ? s heard in one of the private bexes , crying- ,-Brav 61 bravo 1 All oyes were turned towards . ths'sj . ot , v * hon tna redoubtable General , in propria pfrMaj"vra& teen clapping his petit hands with all bis might *
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Octqbes 5 , 1844 . - THE NORTHSUN STAB ! . " , ' i . 3
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Citation
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Northern Star (1837-1852), Oct. 5, 1844, page 3, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ns/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1283/page/3/
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