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supported with slender uniform pillars, admirable for their workmanship; on which are constructed five beautiful Go thic arches, on each side dividing the choir into three large aisles. There are two ranges of windows, five on each side below, corresponding with the five arches, and double that number above the low leads, one on each side of the acute angle of every arch, besides those in the end. Those below are very large and handsome, proportionate to the lofty arches, behind which they are placed, as are those on the east end. Formerly the windows were much more curious and elegant than at present, when the glass of all of them was exquisitely painted and adorned with curious figures, and the east window alone contained the history of the Bible. The church is handsomely paved and well lighted. The galleries, which are neatly constructed and decently pewed, are of the Doric order. At the west end of the auditory, over the middle aisle, is a good well-toned organ, originally built for the cathedral church of St. Paul's, London, purchased by voluntary subscription, which, with its gallery, make up an agreeable form, and cause a pleasing effect. The pulpit is of old oak, ornamented with carved work, and other usual decorations. Robert de Cross, in the reign of Henry IV., anno 1408, got a license for founding and endowing, with eight messuages, a chantry in this church; which said Robert de Cross, a burgess of this town, was a person of such a religious turn, that before his death he gave several other revenues to the abbot and convent at Meux, on condition that they would permit him to live the remainder of his days amongst them. An indenture was drawn up, and Robert was received into the convent.❤ This church was originally only a chapel of ease to Hessle, from which it was separated by act of parliament, and made a vicarage in 1661, under the patronage of the corporation. It is the largest parochial church, not collegiate, in the kingdom." T. C-ss.

* Numerous other chantries were founded before and about this period, so that the whole number of chantries in this church was at least twenty.

Anecdotes and Recollections.
Notings, selections,

Anecdote and joke:
Our recollections;

With gravities for graver folk.

SIR WALTER SCOTT. We are much indebted to our valued correspondent for the following communication, and feel assured our readers. will

be gratified in no common degree by a perusal of the interesting anecdotes related of the brightest gem of modern Athens. -ED.]

(For the Mirror.)

Ar a period when the good and great author of the Waverley Novels has, it is asserted, declared unequivocally that the public were not mistaken in attributing them to Sir Walter Scott, it may perhaps be deemed somewhat extraordinary in me to offer proofs drawn from antecedent cir cumstances of the identity of the two. However, the following anecdotes, which I had an opportunity of collecting during a late residence in Edinburgh, may serve to show the difficulty a great genius lies under in concealing himself; and may I presume that they will also afford some pleasure to those who feel interested in the slightest particulars relating to such a one? It will naturally be supposed, that on my arrival in the modern Athens my first inquiries had respect to the talented being, who, in his works, has so long been, like Titus of old, the delight of mankind, and from various sources my queries were thus gratified :

My bookseller informed me, that whenever any new novels were passing through the press, Sir Walter Scott was constantly in the printing-office, correcting the MSS. even when before the compositors.

He is affirmed to have asked his daughter, Mrs. Lockhart, previous to her marriage, whether she preferred 5,000l. in ready money, or Ivanhoe, (then unpublished.) In choosing that beautiful and successful romance, it is to be presumed that the lady did not repent, since the first edition brought her in 4,000l., and some say more.

I

Mr. H-e, a gentleman of eminence in his profession, (the law,) obliged me with the following recital :-"I have the pleasure of knowing Sir Walter Scott very well, and, as I am. frequently staying with him, you may credit the facts which cause me to believe he is the author of the esteemed works attributed to him. know that he has expended upon Abbotsford far more than the income his public situation brings him in would allow him to do. A road runs before his house, which the baronet has long desired to put aside, and is yet sanguine that he shall ultimately accomplish this design; most people, however, think not, since the place, as its name implies, has been in monastic possession, and is yet considered church territory. The point has undergone long litigation, and in fact is as far from being settled as ever. The expenses of many law-suits, besides the sums that Sir Walter has laid out in adorning his

house and grounds have been enormous; and where and how has he and does he find means to meet them? I have sometimes been on the coach when it has stopped at Sir Walter's gate, and when large packets have been sent in to him, that I could not hinder myself from suspecting were proof-sheets, which certainly bore the large, I may say the official, seals of the printers of the novels. But this I consider the proof of proofs:-Sir Walter was treating with a gentleman respecting the purchase of some land about Melrose Abbey, that he had set his heart on possessing. The gentleman named the price. "I cannot give you that,' said Sir Walter, but I will give so much,' naming the sum. His land-agent or surveyor, (the writer of this article did not catch the official capacity of the person designated when Mr. H. related the anecdote,) alarmed even at the price fixed by the worthy baronet, called him aside. Sir,' said he, do you know what you are about? Excuse me, it is above your means; there is an enormous ground. rent.' I know it, I know it,' replied Sir Walter; but three volumes will pay for it; three volumes will pay the whole."" Mr. H. added, "this fact I had from the agent himself."

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In addition to the above I shall state, that a near relative of my own was informed by a gentleman, that one of his friends, particularly intimate with Sir Walter Scott, had at sundry times related several anecdotes (known only to himself) to the worthy baronet, and that some of these had been introduced in the novels.

From another friend I learnt, that at a dinner of the Antiquarian Society, the chairman proposed the health of "The Great Unknown," which was drank, (Sir W. Scott being present ;) then of "A. Z. a valuable correspondent to the Society," (known to be the baronet.) Upon this the noble author rose and said, "As he made no doubt but that the Great Unknown's name laid somewhere between the letters A. and Z., he took that opportunity of returning thanks on his account for the honour designed him."

I was dining at Lord C-'s, when I had the good fortune to meet a namesake of the baronet in question. I found he was an English gentleman, not related to Sir Walter Scott, but knowing him extremely well. "I was staying with him," said Mr. S. "soon after the publication of Ivanhoe, when he received an insulting letter from a certain cracked-brained cap. tain, an Irishman, who roundly accused Sir Walter of introducing him into the romance as Front de Boeuf. One evening, mentioning this, he said, Had I in

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tended to portray a real character in Front de Boeuf, I should certainly not have taken as my model a madman.' I looked," continued Mr. S. "not a little amazed at this unguarded speech, which perceiving, he, with infinite presence of mind, added, That is, I mean, if I had been the author of the work.' Whether he is the author of those novels or not, I certainly know that he receives every penny of the profit accruing from them but there is one singular fact, which I own staggers me a little, since I cannot at all reconcile it with the abundant proofs that exist of his being the writer of the Waverley Novels; it is, that none of Sir Walter's notes or letters that I have ever seen, and I am accustomed to see many, have been good English; now the novels are extremely well written."

Immediately on the appearance of the Tales of the Crusaders, (1825,) the proprietors of the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, brought out as a drama The Talisman; it was preceded by a prologue, avowedly (I believe) the production of the baronet, in which, after lamenting the decadence of dramatic taste, and the desertion of the theatre, these lines occurred :"The town is empty, and the weather hot, And nothing draws you but Sir Walter.”

Not long after the publication of Ivanhoe, the following anecdote was related to me, and may well find a place here, as it is supposed to have suggested to Sir Walter an incident in his story :-" The present possessor of Rokeby being at a feast at a grandee's house in Turkey, an awkward boy who waited threw down a large jar of wine. He immediately made many excuses and apologies to the guests, who, according to the Mohammedan fashion, were regaling themselves with water or sherbet, stating that it was only medicated wine, which had been recommended by certain eminent physicians to his master. On this hint spake Mr. M-, and begged for a little, since, he felt assured, he was labouring under the same disorder as his friend. Presently the guards and other impertinents being dismissed, the Turk and the Englishman partook so freely of the medicated wine, that they fairly drank each other under the table. Sir Walter Scott being intimately acquainted with Mr. M., from whom I had the anecdote," (added the friend who related it to me,)

is supposed to have taken the hint from it for his interview between Richard Cœur de Lion and Friar Tuck."

There are, I believe, many anecdotes similar to those I have just related afloat, respecting the author of Waverley. Not being aware that the preceding have ever

appeared in print, I have given them publicity, though drawn entirely from private sources, because esteeming such a man as Sir Walter Scott a species of public property, and the query to which his long concealment gave rise as a decidedly national one, I conceive that no apology is due on my part to the friends who furnished me with information respecting him for thus divulging it. But I have yet a few words to add ere I dismiss this interesting topic. The novels give, we may observe, internal evidence of their author. Who but he that hath sung in so fascinating a style the charms of nature and of chivalry could have written works replete with the like vivid landscape painting, the like intimate acquaintance with the history, manners, and customs of past ages, and the like niinute and faithful portraiture of costume, which is apparent in his poetry? The question however, will probably be revived no more; and it remains but for me to add a mere trifle of miscellaneous information respecting him, who has so largely attracted the attention of the world. Sir Walter Scott is by no means an eremite when employed in the composition of his charming fictions; he may be observed sometimes in the midst of the gayest party, scribbling in a corner as fast as pen can move; at other times he ap.. pears to be intensely studying character; and it is said that the greater portion of his works are written in court. There his business is little more than nominal, ană there he may usually be seen writing any thing but law. "I wish," said my friend Mr. H." that some one would undertake to sketch Sir Walter in his rural rambles at Abbotsford. Himself and his forester, Tom Purdie, are characters, as eccentric and worth preserving as any in his novels. Sir Walter is a little lame, but when in the country takes a great deal of exercise. Then, in a morning, forth sally he and his man; Sir Walter first, the forester hard upon, bearing a hatchet, but both in costume quite characteristic. Sir W. marks with chalk the trees he wishes to be felled, and Tom Purdie thereupon bestows the coup de grâce."

During my residence in Edinburgh, I had opportunities of seeing Sir Walter Scott, though I cannot boast of the pleasure of his acquaintance. It was in a ball-room that I was desired to direct my attention particularly to an elderly gentleman, tall and stout, with a stoop in his shoulders, a pale, heavy countenance, only inspired when he smiled, eyes sunk in his head, bushy, projecting eye-brows, and a profusion of white hair streaming about his cranium in true poetical fashion. I

was then unconsciously gazing on the author whose works and whose fame were in every civilized country on the face of the globe. The sensations I experienced at the moment when I was informed who it was that I beheld, were curious and indescribable, but never to be forgotten. "You should know him," said the friend who had pointed him out to me; "you cannot conceive a more agreeable companion; he is particularly partial to the young, to whom his benevolence, humour, and richly stored mind ever recommend him. You should know him, and you would then find that his illuminated countenance conveys even more to your understanding than his words."

With the following sonnet, a tribute, indeed, though but a weak and unworthy one, to the exalted subject of this paper, I shall conclude :—

Lord of Romance! thee would a minstrel hail, Whose weak harp murmurs to an untaught hand;

Thou giant genius, of the " stern, wild" land, Whom inyriads worship, while dim myst'ry's veil Repels the daring gaze of those who stand Round thee enchanted, gleaning ev'ry tale

Breath'd from those wizard lips; which charm

ing, fail

Not also to instruct-thou" Great Unknown!"
Slight not the laud of one, who treads alone,
Unnoted, wilds Parnassian, quaffs the gale
Rich from their fairy flowers, feels t' excess
All that is lovely, all that doth excel,
All that enchains the soul, and feels, to bless
One, who o'er mind doth hold a master spell!
M. L. B.

SARCOPHAGIANA; OR, REMINISCENCES AND RECOLLECTIONS OF SCRIBLERUS SARCOPHAGUS.

(For the Mirror.) HAVING been a near and dear friend of Scriblerus Sarcophagus, 1 am fully competent to exhibit the interesting features of his character-to dispel the fog which now, alas! invests his memory--to raise the curtain which now conceals his glories

--

and to exhibit him (my regretted friend) with all those veritable lineaments, which long acquaintance, familiar intercourse, &c. have capacitated me for observing. But how shall I begin! how shall I break the ice beneath which Scriblerus reposes, unseen, unheard. Shall I luxuriate with the flowers of eulogy? Shall I confine myself to vigorous antithesis? Shall I give every light its shadow, and every colour its just relation? No, I will even condescend to familiar anecdote, to multum in parvo labour, to colloquial dégagée, to

And what time more proper for resus

citating the defunct Scriblerus? Now when the colour of the coat, the form or the hat, the quality of the food of an author are so necessary to be known ere a due decision can be given on his compositions. Now when greater anxiety is shown to know whether an author's hair was straightly combed or elaborately frizzled, whether he wore a wig, and if so, of what materials composed—than to know the merits of his productions then I say, now is the time for Scrib to emerge from the flood. Now or never will he receive the crown of immortality. Some have falsely called Scrib morose, I repeat falsely it is true he was rather arrogant, somewhat contradictory, a little irritable, and perhaps domineering; but shall we therefore call him morose? No.

One day I met my ever-to-be-remembered, never-to-be-forgotten friend; it was a wet day, it was a cold day, “Ah !” said he, "it's a rough day, an't it ?" I acquiesced. I would just observe that Scrib always walked upright; he carried his umbrella or walking-stick always in his right hand, (at least as far as I can learn from the most diligent inquiry) he generally buttoned his great coat up to the chin in cold weather, and invariably wore boots in wet weather: every particular respecting so wonderful a man is worthy of record. He always shaved in warm water, eté ou hiver.

Scrib, when at table, had certain morceaux, for which he expressed peculiar preference; but, stop my pen.- Scrib, I will not describe thy epicurism.

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Scrib's politeness was prominent, he never said to his arguing opponents, you lie," but "you say what you know is not true," or "that's false," or "that's not correct;" thus smoothing the asperities of polemical discussion.

Scrib's work on Cosmogony was published when his intellect was most vigorous, yet it was little read, less understood indeed I have forgotten its reasonings, in truth, I never knew them so as to iterate them in defence of his assertions. When any one began to condole with him on its failure, he would reply, "Posterity, Sir, posterity, think of that."

He bought his ink in small bottles, and sometimes mended his pen, but very seldom, owing to his extreme sensibility. One day while holding a pen-knife in one hand and a quill in the other, he thus addressed me. "When with this trenchant instrument I effect a disruption of the component parts of this ornithological implement, I contemplate the miserable condition of those states which have been separated from their most potent allies, and I weep, I do, indeed."

At dinner, Scrib held his knife in his right hand, and by the handle; it is worthy remark, that he never held it by the blade, a thing which a deep thinker might unwittingly do. His fork (of course) he held in his other hand, i. e. his left hand, and also always by the handle; he always used his knife before he used his fork, this was his invariable custom; as he knew, so thus he exemplified, the truth of the old saw, “ Divide and conquer."

Another remarkable fact (which may perhaps be of great importance in the study of human nature) is, that Scrib, when at dinner, generally separated the crummy part of the bread from the crusty, and appropriated the former to himself, but rejected the latter. A most important trait in his familiar habitudes.

Once at a public epulation, a ladle had been suffered to lay a considerable time in a tureen of hot soup, when Scrib unfortunately happened to touch the ladle, and it burned him; he felt the pang; but looking around with a firm and unmoved countenance, he said, "I have burned my finger." Manly, magnanimous conduct, worthy of a Grecian sage! worthy of a Roman soldier!

Scrib once held a long argument with a profound friend on phrenological science; one argument I well remember. "We know," said Scrib," that veracity and mendacity are incompatible; one obumbrates, militates, nay, annihilates the other; if, then, phrenology has marks of veraciousness, it has none of mendaciousness, ergo, it must be vera

cious if it be not mendacious." Such

convincing arguments would he emit in surprising quantity. What sophistical superstructure could withstand his attacks? What latent error escape his eye?

in fine,

Does any one wish to know the extent of his learning, the number of his accomplishments, and the exact measure of his abilities, I ask him why? Have you not heard how he held his knife and fork, how he eat crumb and rejected crust, when he wore boots, and when he but toned his great coat; when have you not heard enough to enable you to "supply what may be wanting, and to fill up all vacancies ?" then you know enough to enable you to decide on his literary products, then you are qualified for their examination, and therefore when you meet with them, turn critic immediately.

Indeed for me to have dilated on his works would have been lost labour, for of what avail would it have been to choose a subject of so little interest. It is his manners, his habits, his familiar

conduct which can alone excite attention. No one wishes to know in what he differed from other men, but every one, in what he resembled other men, and truly of all knowledge that is most valuable which thus renders us able to extend our generalizations, and prove by fact positive, that the profound Scriblerus resembled as a man, the rest of mankind.

ALLITERATIVE POETRY.

(For the Mirror.)

J.

A LITERARY Frenchman being in com.
pany with the celebrated Dr. Wallis, was
boasting of the superiority of the French
language in regard to euphony, and chal-
lenged the doctor to produce any thing in
English equal to the following lines :-
Quand un cordier, cordant, veult corder une
corde,

Pour sa corde, corder, trois cordons il accorde;
Mais si un des cordons de la corde discorde,
Le cordon discordant fait discorder la corde.

The doctor, with promptitude, immediately translated the very words into English, only substituting for the French word corde, the pure English word twist. The reader will find that the first four of the following lines exactly correspond with those of the Frenchman; the next four were added by the doctor by way of completing his triumph. The remaining lines were not written till some time after. Dr. Johnson was so pleased with the above anecdote, that he gives the whole twelve lines in his folio Dictionary, to show into how many twistings and bearings the words twist and twister may be twisted:

When a twister a twisting will twist him a twist,
For the twisting his twist he three times doth
entwist;

But if one of the twists of the twist doth untwist,
The twine that untwisteth, untwisteth the twist.
Untwisting the twine that untwisteth between,
He twiues with his twister the two in a twine;
The twist having twisted the twines of the twine,
He twisteth the twine he had twisted in twain.

The twine that in twisting before in the twine,
As twines were untwisted, he now doth untwine;
'Twixt the twain intertwisting a twine more be-
tween,

He twisteth his twister, makes a twist of the twine.

FROSTS

(For the Mirror.)

CURIOS.

THE natural history of frosts furnishes us with several remarkable effects upon trees, &c. Oak, ash, and walnut trees

were dreadfully rent, and clefts made in
their trunks as if a wedge had been in-
serted, in the great frost, 1683, (perhaps
the greatest on record.) The trees were rent
asunder with a noise resembling a piece
of artillery, and the ground and rocks
rent by the aqueous particles they con-
tained within them being frozen.
may be curious to mention, that during
this severe frost fires were regularly lighted
up at the extremities of the principal
streets in London, to moderate the rigour
of the cold, and for persons whose various
avocations might lead them out of town
to warm themselves by.

It

Most of these great frosts were accompanied by deep snows, and often ended by many lives being lost in the drifts, and thousands of cattle perishing, particu larly sheep.

But perhaps the most distressing phe nomenon that has occurred during the period of frosts is freezing rain. A shower, in December, in the year 1672, fell which froze as it came in contact with every substance; the plumage of birds, the skins of beasts, and even the garments of passengers, were fairly encrusted with ice. A sprig of an ash-tree, which weighed three quarters of a pound, when covered with ice, attained the prodigious weight of sixteen pounds. A moderate gale of wind, under these circumstances, would have produced a total destruction of trees; as it was, the destruction was greater than history ever recorded, the air during the time providentially being very calm.

I myself was witness to a freezing shower in Somersetshire, about eighteen years since, and the effects of it were very surprising. Birds were found frozen to the ground, and the danger attending walking and travelling was considerable,

not to mention the consternation of trades-
people, when they attempted to close
their shops at night, the windows that
were exposed to the shower being thickly
coated with ice, so as to render it almost
impracticable to shut them. The walls
of the houses fronting to windward pre-
sented to the spectator an appearance of
being glazed, and the eaves were loaded
with pendant icicles, &c. A fall of snow
succeeded the day after, which reduced
the scene to the more ordinary appearance
of winter. Soon after more snow fell,
together with a vast fall of rain, which
inundated the country for several miles,
and many distressing accidents occurred,
and several lives were lost."
H.

Royal Observatory, Greenwich.

A detailed account of remarkable frosts in

Europe and Great Britain may be found in No. 227 of the MIRROR,

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