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into a drawing of his woodland critic, have a sense of awful and appalling by which the pendant boughs of dreariness and solitariness: I feel trees, and swelling projections of among them desolate, hopeless, and rocks, were made to assume the con- forsaken. I cling to undulating fieldfiguration of chins, eyes, and noses: paths, and familiar knolls under plane of which the painter himself was first or birch-trees, with glimpses of rareapprized by an explosion of laughter ly passing rural faces, and the long, round a supper-table. He is, after flaxen, uncut ringlets of cottage chilall, happier in a dim closet, with a dren. I had rather look at a shelsky-light, where, planted at his easel, tered farm, with sheep nibbling on he shows a reckless disdain of the slope that overhangs it, than Wordsworth's remonstrance about gaze dizzily upwards to the monas
growing double.” He has little tery, however hospitable within, or love for the sun, and commends a however picturesque without, on the fine day according as the landscape summit of mount St. Gothard. I canin its tints and shadows approximates not say with Correggio, “ ed io sono to canvas. He abominates green. I pittore.” I am afraid I like Moralways considered it as a striking land's bits of rustic animal life and proof of his good-nature, that, after homely cottage nature : his she-ass his manner of encouraging poor art- and her colt in a straw-yard, when ists, he once gave a guinea for a green under snow (though I had rather the park and wooden deer, for which this latter were away); his shaggy cartobscure competitor of Claude had mo- horses, standing with a sort of sleepy destly charged five shillings. As patience in a dark field-stable, into Tom Paine said of the Quakers, that which a broken light streams down if they had had any hand in the crea- from a hole in the roof; above all, his tion, they would have clothed the pigs, especially if a chubby-faced face of nature in drab, so we may be child is clambering over a half-door, certain that my friend would have and leaning to look at them. I am proscribed Coleridge's
not on terms of intimacy with WilHealthful greenness pour'd upon the soul, have few aspirings beyond Gainsbo
son's tempest-troubled landscapes. I in favour of reds, browns, and yel- rough's cattle, standing in a clear lows: autumn, therefore, for his mo- pool, or winding up along a steep ney. He has no sympathy with the hollow, under banks of broad clusdewy emerald of a meadow in a tering oaks with their sketchy showery summer. These strike me and natural leafing. My friend as some of the disadvantuges of a is fond of spreading his painter. I am always at fault in with the massive, umbered tints conversation with an artist. I have of Poussin : he plunges his genius a most plebeian fondness for enclosed into a brown overhanging forest, fields, gently swelling and sinking, with a splash of broken river, and with their hedge-rows thick set with one delicious peep of sky, of a deeper hollies and hawthorns, and now and blue than the kingfisher's plumage, then an elm or an oakling. These, I which relieves, what I should call, find, I must not confess the liking of. the melancholy blackness of the But I may admire a brown inter
He delights to surround minable heath, that, such is my cock- himself with gnarled mountain ashneyism, always puts me in mind of a trees, that straggle from the sides gibbet: and I may talk, as long as I of cliffs; and often sketches out a please, of glaciers, of mountains that root of most fantastic growth, and topple over our heads, and lakes that undefinable figure, about which he give the sensation of a bottomless has not quite made up his mind, watery abyss at our feet. I should whether it shall be a scathed fibre like (but for the trouble of motion) of a tree, or a twining dragon, like to visit such scenes: though I am ra- one in Lucan's, or Tasso's forest. ther of Dr. Johnson's way of think- By the way, he has no objection to ing respecting the Giant's Causeway a soldier or two, sheathed in armour, in Ireland: “ Worth seeing', Sir, yes! climbing out of a midway mountainbut not worth going to see :" but I cavern, from behind a huge disparted do not covet to live among them. I crag, and looking down over it, in
such a posture as to make one giddy: characteristic of the original, he or, what is more usual with him, a avowed his intention of completing knight, in panoply complete, all but the whole in the manner that he had his helmet, stretched at his length begun. He hit off the thing with on the wild herbage, and a damsel such an easy freedom, that for once gleaming through the shadowy brakes, I began to persuade myself he would and wheeling away on a fugitive “ keep the word of promise to the palfrey. I went to see his progress hope as well as to the ear.” His in one of these romantic sketches, perseverance was a nine weeks' wonand found him half suffocated with der; and in this time he mastered the vapour of aqua fortis, of which nine cantos; when he murmured he had inhaled rather an unreason- something about having heard that able quantity, in etching a small Mr. Coleridge had expressed a similar Venice-piece of Canaletti. He al- intention; and I found the MS. had Jowed the inconvenience of this sort been slid into a drawer among some of accidental inspiration ; but gave sketches, which he had once comvery cogent reasons for the superior menced, but never finished, illustrasatisfaction resulting from the graver tive of the scenes and adventures in over the pencil, and thought he St. Pierre's Paul and Virginia. In should never touch canvas again. I fact, as he told me in confidence, he thought differently. However, the was now very busily employed in copper fell into the same disgrace as counteracting the spread of Methothe canvas. The window of a book- dism, by a sermon and commentary seller of my acquaintance exhibited, on King James the First's anti-saball of a sudden, a weekly succession batical proclamation for the encouof macaronic poems. The subjects ragement of sports and exercises on a were various. There was an eccen- Sunday. tric French dancing-master, who, This is a very formidably faulty among other freaks, set up a child's digression ; but how else could I wheel-chair with a sail to it, which make it quite clear, that there would he called a char volant: and in this his have been little hope in persuading daughter, a stout stocky demoiselle of my friend to give us a systematic fifteen, dragged herself heavily along history of burlesque poetry? the floor ; the flying being limited to He had, however, got actually a his own capers, as he preceded the car good way in translating the battle: with his kit. There was a Logierian when, just as he arrived at the words professor, who taught the theory óx Olotn yadin, (verse 113,) (which he and practice of music in four lessons. persisted, with Parnell and Cowper, There was a doctor, a violent fa- in calling a cat, for want of taking vourite of the ladies, who brought the trouble to reflect that cats are elderly gentlemen to a crisis in four not usually found in open fields, and days, by wrapping them in sheets on the borders of marshes) a cat, steeped in brandy; and who cured one mid-day, sprang upon his bed his own children, by baking them in (which, according to custom, was puff paste: and there was a radical piled with books and papers), overschool-master, who demonstrated, turned his ink-bottle on the coverlet, from Cobbett's grammar, that the and put to flight frogs and mice in House of Commons, and a den of pell-mell rout and irretrievable conthieves, being both nouns of multi- fusion. He had always an antipathy tude, were convertible in meaning: to this “ democratic beast," (as RoThis accounted for the glance, which bert Southey, before he dubbed himI now so frequently had at my self Esquire, and was created Doctor friend's back, as he turned into a of Laws, and Poet Laureate, and printing-office. He was grown mys- wrote the Vision of Judgment, symterious and invisible. Till “ dawd- pathetically called it in his Annual ling with him over a dish of tea," Anthology ;) and this incident has one evening, he read me half a canto forced him to rise before noon, and of Wieland's Oberon in stanzaic verse; ply his pencil once more in the valand after explaining, to my perfect ley. It was a poetical battle of apprehension, that Sotheby's version spurs, and his epic ideas have never was too terse and polished to be rallied since.
I wish the cat had not inter- SIGNATHUB? Who, that has a tooth meddled ; for there is no translation which dreads hard crust, would willof this mock-heroic, that conveys to ingly take upon him to pronounce an English_reader any idea of its PSYCHARPAX? What smiles will humour. The original has by no flicker round the corners of an Engmeans that stately and unbending lish mouth, at the sounds of BORBOgravity of phrase, which the stan- ROCOITES and CNISSODIOCTES? John dard versions impute to it.
Gold Bull, I'll be sworn, smith, who is usually right, blamed Parnell for retaining the Greek Would rather hear a brazen candlestick names; and Johnson, who is oftener turn'd, right than the admirers of Gray's Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree. hubble-bubble sublimity will allow, concurs in the criticism. Cowper,
At my next leisure hour I may, thus fore-warned, was not fore- perhaps, cull out a sample or two armed; but blundered on in the for the LONDON MAGAZINE. Who cares for PHY
Thou wert the first my heart to win,
Thou art the last to wear it;
Thou must be one to share it.
That hopes would once be thwarted,-
Fare thee well!
There is a humble, unpretending yard, Surrey, seems to be composed kind of poetry, limited in its subject on the judicious precept of Butler: -the production alike of the learned
For brevity is very good, and the ignorant, the high and low,
Where we are, or are not, understood. the rich and poor-which, alike interesting to all, has failed to obtain It is as follows: much regard from those to whom it
Live well, die never, addresses instruction: I mean Epi
Die well, and live for ever. taphs. The living naturally wish to Many wretched conceits, middling shun all intercourse with the dead; jokes, obscure compliments, as well and though the latter, in many a as innumerable lies, are cut in stone. warning line, lift up their voice, and The following, on a child six months call aloud from the ground, we heed old, will be found at Brighton: not the posthumous counsel, but
He tasted of life's bitter cup, tread over the gravel, or the green
Refused to drink the potion up; sod, which covers our ancestor's dust,
But turn'd his little head aside, without even whistling to keep our
Disgusted with the taste, and died. courage up. In the course of a long and busy life, I have read many epi
Those who die at peace with the taphs in various parts of England; world, and leave rich legacies to and, though many of these are the their relations, commonly come in avowed productions of men of learn- for a very reasonable share of good ing and genius, yet by far the great- qualities in their epitaphs. There is est number, like the songs of the some bitterness contained in two peasantry, are the production of lines on a tomb-stone at Pentonville : humble and nameless persons. I Death takes the good—too good on earth have not failed to observe, that the
to stay, inscriptions which spoke the plainest And leaves the bad—too bad to take away. sense, expressed the happiest sentiments, contained the richest poetry, An inscription at Islington is in and gave the most original and vivid better taste and gentler feeling. It portraiture of past beauty or worth, is on a child some months old; and, were generally the works of obscure brief as it is, contains a fine sentipersons, whose names are unknown ment: to literature ; and who, probably Here virtue sleeps-restrain the pious tear! both before and after, sought no in. He waits that judgment which he cannot tercourse with the muse. I shall
fear. only transcribe now a few of these epitaphs, which seem not generally The good people of Newcastle known, and confine myself rather to seem a facetious generation; and it is the curious than the beautiful. The a blessing worth coveting, to die in following very simple and affecting their neighbourhood, should the bard epitaph expresses more in few words still live who wrote this epitaph : than we usually observe in this kind Here lies Robin Wallis, the king of good of composition:
fellows, Nineteen years a maiden,
Clerk of Allhallows, and a maker of belOne year a wife,
lows; One hour a mother,
He bellows did make to the day of his And so I lost my life.
But he that made bellows, could never The brevity of the following is of
make breath. a different nature, and approaches We wish the people of Manchester too close to the epigrammatic: had as little malice in their mirth as Life is uncertain, death is sure ;
the people of Newcastle. Who Sin is the wound, and Christ the cure.
would wish to live in that region of
yarn windles and spinning jennies, An inscription in Kingston church- and go down to the grave with an
epitaph such as they have cut on the his castle of Caverswell —lately built even tomb-stone of honest John Hill: unto beauty by Mathew Cradock his father
who lies interred near this place--and Here lies John Hill, a man of skill,
dying of ye small pox 1643, betooke himHis age was five times ten,
selfe to ye private mansion of this Tombe He never did good, nor never would, erected for him at ye expense of Dorothy Had he lived as long again.
his obsequious wife, where he now rests The merry people of Cheshire min- shall be summond to appear at ye last
under ye protection of an essoinee until he gle no gall in their remembrance of
great and general assize. their benefactors. We have, ourselves, always loved the calling of a In the same church, is the followtailor, and thought, with the old ing simple and curious memorial of Scottish poet, that he is more than a very respectable name, which the man, rather than less. The inha- reader will be apt to contrast with bitants of Cheshire seem of the same
its more elaborate companion : opinion; and we hope all the tailors
Ano domi. 1670. of the district lay the virtues of Beest here and neer their righteous brother to heart, and
in peace doe rest seek to practise them in their lives :
Al they of these
that are deceast Here lies entomb'd, within this vault so Thomas Browne and Marjery dark,
Ralph Browne and Mary A tailor, soldier, cloth-drawer, and clerk ;
Ralph Browne and Dorothy Death snatch'd him hence, and also from
Ralph Browne and Joyce him took
Ralph Browne His needle, thimble, sword, and prayer Ralph Browne book.
John Browne He could no longer work nor fight: what The two first Brownes then ?
of Carsewell were He left the world, and faintly cried, Amen. But all the rest
were of the Meere The conceit and unnatural taste so The fourth made this in memorie common to inscriptions, will be found
of parents to posteritie. in full strength in the church of Caverswell, in Staffordshire, on a mo
There is some conceit in this plain nument belonging to the ancient epitaph at Southampton, but it will name of Cradock. One is sorry to be forgiven for the sake of the comread such a memorial ; it impairs the
mencing line : charm which the singular and sweet A plain rough man, but without guile or romance of the Page and Enchanted pride, Mantle, has thrown around the name Goodness his aim, and honesty his guide ; of Cradock; and we wish some one Could all the pomps of this vain world dewho claims connexion with this fa- spise, vorite name in chivalry would, with. And only after death desired to rise. out wholly destroying the original strain of thought, abate its extrava
One on a young man at Chichester gance:
will not be read without emotion : George Cradock Esqr. for his great pru
Art thou in health and spirits gay? dence in ye common Lawes well worthy to I too was so the other day ; be Beav-clerk of ye assizes for this circuit, And thought myself of life as safe, did take to wife yo most amiable and most As thou who read'st my epitaph. loving Dorothy yo Daughter of John Saunders doctor of Physicke, by whom he had a The humble and meritorious lapair-royale of incomparable daughters, viz. bours of Mistress Anne, the wife of Dorothy, Elizabeth and Mary. It is easie Matthew Garland, of Deptford, a to guess that he lived in splendid degree if special midwife, have not been forI shall but recount unto you that Sir Thomas Slingsby Baronet, R. Hon. Richard gotten; and though recorded in the Lord Cholmondeley, Sir George Bridge- remembrance of many a rosy lass man Baronet married Dorothy, Elizabeth,
and strapping lad, as well as on good Mary, Coheir. Bot! bot ! 'to our grief durable stone, I shall endeavour to George Cradock is assaulted by death in extend her fame by transcribing her the meridian of his age, not far off from epitaph: