He has been induced to look in at Vauxhall again, but likes it still less than he did years back, and cannot bear it in comparison with Ranelagh. He thinks every thing looks poor, flaring, and jaded. "Ah!" says he, with a sort of triumphant sigh, "Ranelagh was a noble place! Such taste, such elegance, such beauty! There was the duchess of A. the finest woman in England, sir; and Mrs. L., a mighty fine creature; and lady Susan what's her name, that had that unfortunate affair with sir Charles. Sir, they came swimming by you like the swans. A HAPPY MEETING. And doth not a meeting like this make amends For all the long years I've been wand'ring away, As smiling and kind as in that happy day! Though haply o'er some of your brows, as o'er mine, The snow-fall of time may be stealing-what then Like Alps in the sunset, thus lighted by wine, We'll wear the gay tinge of youth's roses again. The sorrows, the joys, of which once they were part The warmth of a meeting like this brings to light. That once made a garden of all the gay shore, Deceiv'd for a moment, we'll think them still ours, And breath the fresh air of life's morning once more. The Old Gentleman is very particular in having his slippers ready for him at the fire, So many a feeling, that long seem'd effaced, when he comes home. He is also extremely choice in his snuff, and delights to get a fresh box-full at Gliddon's, in King-street, in his way to the theatre. His box is a curiosity from India. He calls favourite young ladies by their Christian names, however slightly acquainted with them; and has a privilege also of saluting all brides, mothers, and indeed every species of lady on the least holiday occasion. If the husband for instance has met with a piece of luck, he instantly moves forward, and gravely kisses the wife on the cheek. The wife then says, "My niece, sir, from the country;" and he kisses the niece. The niece, seeing her cousin biting her lips at the joke, says, "My cousin Harriet, sir;" and he kisses the cousin. He never recollects such weather, except during the great frost, or when he rode down with Jack Skrimshire to Newmarket. He grows young again in his little grand-children, especially the one which he thinks most like himself; which is the handsomest. Yet he likes best perhaps the one most resembling his wife; and will sit with him on his lap, holding his hand in silence, for a quarter of an hour together. He plays most tricks with the former, and makes him sneeze. He asks little boys in general who was the father of Zebedee's children. If his grandsons are at school, he often goes to see them; and makes them blush by telling the master or the upperscholars, that they are fine boys, and of a precocious genius. He is much struck when an old acquaintance dies, but adds that he lived too fast; and that poor Bob was a sad dog in his youth; a very sad dog, sir, mightily set upon a short life and a merry one." So brief our existence, a glimpse, at the most, Is all we can have of the few we hold dear; For want of some heart that could echo it near. When he gets very old indeed, he will sit for whole evenings, and say little or nothing; but informs you, that there is Mrs. Jones (the housekeeper), -“ She'll talk."-Indicator. But come-the more rare such delights to the heart, more They're ours when we meet-they're lost when we part, Let Sympathy pledge us, thro' pleasure thro' pain, LINES TO HIS COUSIN ON THE NEW YEAR, BY A WESTMINSTER BOY. Time rolls away! another year And great expense of marriage. His wheel still rolls (and like the river Fribourg. Griefswald. Bâle. Tubingen Marbourg. Kænisberg. Jena. Giessen Kiel Halle Breslau Gættengen. Erlangen. Landshut Berlin Bonn. Of this number six belong to Prussia, three to Bavaria, two to the Austrian States, two to the Grand Duchy of Baden, two to the Electorate of Hesse-Cassel, and one to each of the following states-Saxony, Wurtemberg, Denmark, Hanover, the Grand Duchies of Mecklenbergh-Schweren and of Saxe-Weimar, and Switzerland. The total number of professors is 1055, embracing not only the ordinary and extraordinary professors, but also the private lecturers, whose courses of reading are announced in the half-yearly programmes. Catholic Germany, which reckons nineteen millions of inhabitants, has only six universities; while Protestant Germany, for seventeen millions of inhabitants, has seventeen. Of the students there are 149 for every 250,000 in the Protestant states, while there are only 68 for the same number in the Catholic states. It must, however, be mentioned, that this estimate does not take in those Catholic ecclesiastics who do not pursue their studies in the universities, but in private seminaries.-The universities of Paderborn and Munster, both belonging to Prussia, and which had only two faculties, those of theology and philosophy, were suppressed; the first in 1818, and the second in 1819; but that of Munster has been reestablished, with the three faculties of theology, philosophy, and medicine. Colley Cibber's youngest Daughter. Last of her sire in dotage-she was used Thoughtlessly rear'd, she led a thoughtless life; A helpless mother, and a wife unblest, She pass'd precocious womanhood in strife; Her father's curse-himself first cause of all "THE LIFE OF MRS. CHARLOTTE CHARKE, youngest daughter of Colley Cibber, Esq. written by herself," is a curious narrative of remarkable vicissitudes. She dedicates it to herself, and aptly concludes her dedication by saying, "Permit me, madam, to subscribe myself, for the future, what I Dught to have been some years ago, your VOL. I.-5. real friend, and humble servant, CHARLOTTE CHARKE." In the "Introduction" to the recent reprint of this singular work, it is well observed, that "her Life will serve to show what very strange creatures may exist, and the endless diversity of habits, tastes, and inclinations, which may spring up spon taneously, like weeds, in the hot-bed of corrupt civilization." She was born when Mrs. Cibber was forty-five years old, and when both her father and mother had ceased to expect an addition to their family: the result was that Charlotte Cibber was a spoiled child. She married Mr. Richard Charke, an eminent violin player, of dissolute habits; and, after a course of levities, consequent upon the early recklessness of her parents, she was repudiated by her father. When she wrote her life, she was in great penury: it was published in eight numbers, at three-pence each. In the last, which appeared on the 19th of April, 1755, she feelingly deplores the failure of her attempts to obtain forgiveness of her father, and says, "I cannot recollect any crime I have been guilty of that is unpardonable." After intimating a design to open an oratorical academy, for the instruction of persons going on the stage, she mentions her intention to publish "Mr. Dumont's history, the first number of which will shortly make its appearance." This was a novel she was then writing, which a bookseller treated with her for, in company with Mr. Samuel Whyte of Dublin, who thus describes her distressed situation : 'Cibber the elder had a daughter named Charlotte, who also took to the stage; her subsequent life was one continued series of misfortune, afflictions, and distress, which she sometimes contrived a little to alleviate by the productions of her pen. About the year 1755, she had worked up a novel for he press, which the writer accompanied his friend the bookseller to hear read; she was at this time a widow, having been married to one Charke a musician, long since dead. Her habitation was a wretched thatched hovel, situated on the way to Islington in the purlieus of Clerkenwell Bridewell, not very distant from the New River Head, where at that time it was usual for the scavengers to leave the cleansings of the streets, &c. The night preceding a heavy rain had fallen, which rendered this extraordinary seat of the muses almost inaccessible, so that in our approach we got our white stockings enveloped with mud up to the very calves, which furnished an appearance much in the present fashionable style of half-boots. We knocked at the door, (not attempting to pull the latch string,) which was opened by a tall, meagre, ragged figure, with a blue apron, indicating, what else we might have doubted, the feminine gender,—a perfect model for the copper captain's tattered landlady; that deplorable exhibition of the fair sex, in the comedy of Rule-a-Wife. She with a torpid voice and hungry smile desired us to walk in. The first object that presented itself was a dresser, clean, it must be confessed, and furnished with three or four coarse delf plates, two brown platters, and underneath an earthen pipkin and a black pitcher with a snip out of it. To the right we perceived and bowed to the mistress of the mansion sitting on a maimed chair under the mantle-piece, by a fire, merely sufficient to put us in mind of starving. On one hob sat a monkey, which by way of welcome chattered at our going in; on the other a tabby cat, of melancholy aspect ! and at our author's feet on the flounce of her dingy petticoat reclined a dog, almost a skeleton! he raised his shagged head, and, eagerly staring with his bleated eyes, saluted us with a snarl. Have done, Fidele! these are friends.' The tone of her voice was not harsh; it had something in it humbled and disconsolate; a mingled effort of authority and pleasure.-Poor soul! few were her visitors of that description-no wonder the creature barked !.-A magpie perched on the top ring of her chair, not an uncomely ornament! and on her lap was placed a mutilated pair of bellows, the pipe was gone, an advantage in their present office, they served as a succedaneum for a writing-desk, on which lay displayed her hopes and treasure, the manuscript of her novel. Her ink-stand was a broken teacup, the pen worn to a stump; she had but one! a rough deal board with three hobbling supporters was brought for our convenience, on which, without farther ceremony, we contrived to sit down and entered upon business :-the work was read, remarks made, alterations agreed to, and thirty guineas demanded for the copy. The squalid handmaiden, who had been an attentive listener, stretched forward her tawny length of neck with an eye of anxious expectation!-The bookseller offered five!— Our authoress did not appear hurt; disappointments had rendered her mind callous; however, some altercation ensued. This was the writer's first initiation into the mysteries of bibliopolism and the state of authorcraft. He, seeing both sides pertinacious, at length interposed, and at his instance the wary haberdasher of literature doubled his first proposal, with this saving proviso, that his friend present would pay a moiety and run one half the risk; which was agreed to. Thus matters were accommodated, seemingly to the satisfaction of all parties; the lady's original stipulation of fifty copies for herself being previously Mr. Whyte's account of the "reading the manuscript," a subject worthy the simplicity of the original, of which I doubt if a correct copy could now be obtained. As it is, it is at the service of your Table Book. The hero of the ballad appears to be of somewhat the same class as the hero of the German ballad, the "Water King," and in some particulars resembles the ballad of the "Overcourteous Knight,” in Percy's Reliques. I am, dear sir, &c. of Wilkie's pencil, is designed to be Grange-road, Bermondsey, Jan. 8, 1827. illustrated by the engraving at the head AN INEDITED BALLAD. To the Editor. Dear Sir,-A friend of mine, who resided for some years on the borders, used to amuse himself by collecting old ballads, printed on halfpenny sheets, and hawked up and down by itinerant minstrels. In his common-place book I found one, entitled “The Outlandish Knight,” evidently, from the style, of considerable antiquity, which appears to have escaped the notice of Percy, and other collectors. Since then I have met with a printed one, from the popular press of Mr. Pitts, the six-yardsfor-a-penny song-publisher, who informs me that he has printed it "ever since he was a printer, and that Mr. Marshall, his predecessor, printed it before him." The ballad has not improved by circulating amongst Mr. Pitts's friends; for the heroine, who has no name given her in my friend's copy, is in Mr. Pitts's called " Polly;" and there are expressions contra bonos mores. These I have expunged; and, to render the ballad more complete, added a few stanzas, wherein I have endeavoured to preserve * * Whyte's Collection of Poems, second edition: Dublin, 1792. + Biog. Dram. THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT. Six go true. The seventh askew." Der Freischutz Travestie. An outlandish knight from the north lands came, He told me he'd take me unto the north lands, And I should his fair bride be. A broad, broad shield did this strange knight wield, Yet never, I ween, had that strange knight been And out and spake this strange knight, Thy sire he is from home, ladye, For he hath a journey gone, Go, bring me some of thy father's gold, And some of thy mother's fee, And steeds twain of the best, in the stalls that rest Where they stand thirty and three. She mounted her on her milk-white steed. And they forward did ride, till they reach'd the sea-side, Then out and spake this strange knight, Alight thee, maid, from thy milk-white steed, Six maids have I drown'd, where the billows sound, But first pull off thy kirtle fine, And deliver it unto me; Thy kirtle of green is too rich, I ween. |