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its sheeling, and its wreathing smoke, when we reached it presented as ugly and disgusting a detail as possible; and a Teniers or a Cruikshank could only do justice to the scene, and present a lively picture of its uncouth accompaniments.

A half-roofed cabin, in which was a raging fire, over which was suspended the pot, with its connected head and worm; two of the filthiest of human beings, halr naked, squalid, unhealthy looking creatures, with skins encrusted with filth, hair long, uncombed, and matted, where vermin of all sorts seemed to quarter themselves and nidificate; and where, as Burns says, "horn or bone ne'er dare unsettle their thick plantations;" these were the operatives of the filthy process which seemed in all its details to be carried on in nastiness.

"John Barleycorn, though hero bold,
Of noble enterprise ;

When Irishmen distil his blood, They cleanliness despise." The whole area of the island was one dunghill, composed of fermenting grains; there were about twenty immense hogs either feeding or snoring on the food that lay beneath them; and so alive with rats was the whole concern, that one of the boatmen compared them in number and intrusiveness to flocks of sparrows on the side of a shelling-hill adjoining a cornmill. I asked one of the boatmen where the men who attended the still slept. "Och, where should they sleep but on the grains with the pigs? they have never been off the island these six months; they have never changed their clothes, and I believe, though they are convenient enough to the water, they have never washed themselves." "Ánd are they not afraid ?" "Why who would they be afraid of but the rats ?" "And do they never go to divine worship ?" "Ah, that they don't; it's little they care about religion; one of them is a Protestant, and he curses so much, that it's enough to keep ghost, angel, or devil off the place; and, in troth, the Catholic is not much better, may be the priest won't have work enough with him yet."

I was truly disgusted with the whole scene, and anxious to quit it. I was vexed and disappointed to find such a romantic or beautiful spot so defiled, so desecrated, I might say, by a manufacture that has proved of incalculable mischief to the peaceful habits, the moral character, and religious duties of the people of the country; but we would not be allowed to depart before we partook of the produce of the pot. With all his faults, Pat is not deficient in generosity, and he is ever ready to share, yes, and often to

waste the liquor which he has a peculiar delight in manufacturing; because, perhaps, the undertaking is attended with risk, and gives birth to adventurous engagements and escapes, and, as the song

says,

"An Irishman all in his glory is there." Sketches in Ireland.

ZEBUDAH AWAITING THE RETURN OF

АНАВ.

AH, whither, whither, Ahab, tarriest thou,
I gaze, but cannot see thy coming prow,
Yet winds are fair, and the wide waters free;
Oh what, alas, can keep my love from me.

To night, to night thou said'st thou would'st be here:

Source of my life, some ill event I fear.
Thus mus'd the fair one as her deep-blue eye
Roll'd o'er the wave in wild anxiety,
Till naught descrying through the distant baze,
In silent vacancy expired its gaze.
Soft play'd the night-wind in her yellow hair,
That falling kiss'd a breast than snow more fair;
Or rose, uplifted or its gentle wing,
Like tendrils round her ivory neck to cling:
Again her eye the waste of waters sought,
Till hope decaying faded into naught,
And sadly from her lips these 'plainings 'scaped,
As wild despair a thousand terrors shaped :-
"O Ahab! whither, whither on the sea
Stay'st thou from her whose heart is full of thee?
What keeps thy bark upon the wat❜ry way,
When all who dwell within thy walls are gay ;
When every eye is bright, and bosom glad,
And not a heart but my lone one is sad?
Didst thou not, smiling, say I was the star
To light thy vessel o'er the wave afar?
And is my ray less bright to thee this eve
Than on the fatal night that saw thee leave,
When thou didst kiss away my parting tear-
Lov'd of my heart, why tarriest thou from here?"
Thus chiding him, with anguish in her look,
Forth from her window-seat her lute she took,
And as her fairy fingers o'er it rov'd,
Warbled in sadness to her best belov 'd.

SONG.

Far as my anxious eye can see

Along the waste of waters blue,
Frequent I gaze in search of thee,

But fate denies thee to my view.
Whither, O whither dost thou roam!
Wanders thy bark on yonder sea!
Or hast thou found a dearer home,
A happier than thou hadst with me.
O come to me and ease may heart
Of all it's doubts--of all its fears
Say that we ne'er again shall part,

And bush my sighs and dry my tears. Thus sung the fair one in her mournful mood, Amid the stiliness of her solit, de.

Ahab, by S. R. Jackson.

CURIOUS MUSICAL INSTRU. MENT.

ONE of the Hottentots placed himself at th centrance of the tent, and sung several

Caffer songs, accompanied by a curious stringed instrument, called a gorrah; he applied his breath to the strings, and produced some wild and pleasing notes; then occasionally recited some words, which the boor interpreted as a call for the chiefs of the different Caffer tribes to assemble at particular places, either for war or hunting.-Scenes and Occurrences in Caffer Land.

HONEY HUNTING.

The

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From evil fortune, sorrow, or disgust,
But that which ever waits upon deep thought.
Her dark hair was just parted on her brow,
Careless, yet graceful, for it suited well

A face which seemed not made for vanity;
And eloquent words were passing: and at times
Her eyes were raised and lighted up; they struck
Upon her spirit's own fine chords; at last
She spoke her voice was low and tremulous-
With that beseechingness of tone and air
Which is a woman's own peculiar charm,
Oh! never should a woman's words be more
Than sighs which bave found utterance.

2.

His brow was like the marble, which the sun
Hath in meridian splendour shone upon,
Whitening away its every earthly stain ;
With not a colour save one azure vein;
Too clear for health, to show that life was there,

AT the end of a path we discovered a
rude but very ingenious scaffolding made
by the Hottentots to obtain honey from
the hive. The rock overhung its base so
much that very great labour and skill
were required, and risk incurred, in fix-
ing and tying with strips of bark, the
poles and branches of trees. Their reward
may literally be said to be sweet.
manner of finding it is very singular, as
related to us by one of our party, who
had accompanied a Hottentot in search of
some. The Hottentot went to a place
that he thought likely to contain the
hives, and immediately whistled with a
sort of call that the honey bird or indicator
is accustomed to, when the little feathered
attendant made its appearance, chirping Else it had been too statue-like, too fair:
loudly and hovering about them; it then
flew forward, still chirping and watching
to see if they followed. It tried twice to
lead them across a kloof, flying back and
again forward to entice them to follow;
they, however, not liking to go that way,
and the Hottentot continuing to whistle
the call, the bird at length flew back, and
led another way, still watching and chirp
ing to them to follow him, which they
now did, and very soon it hovered over a
place in the rock, where, on searching,
they found a hive full of honey; the bird
immediately perched in a bush over them,
and waited patiently till they had taken
the honey, when it flew down, and took
possession of the nest, and eat what was
left for it. The honey-bird is rather
larger than a sparrow, with brown fea-
thers. The quantity of honey taken every
year is immense, and its flavour is very
delicious. The bees seldom or never
sting if they are not hurt. The Hot-
tentot is very particular in his manner of
leaving the honey for the bird, as he says
that it will then remember him, and lead
him another time in preference to any
other person. When the bird has eaten
the honey, the young bees are carefully
closed up with stones to prevent the
ratel* from taking them out, and as there

And there were sunny curls; they were too
bright,

Too like, alas! that mockery of light

In summer noontide hours-such as is thrown
O'er the pale whiteness of the funeral stone.
His mouth was feminine in loveliness,
But that its scornful smile could well express
Proud and high feelings, and his voice was low,
Those tones that to the heart directly go,

* A kind of badge

And cannot be forgotten: he seemed one
Who knew how dearly happiness is won;
Happiness! pleasure I should rather say,
Happiness never made on earth a stay—
But he is in the grave-the early grave,

Which ruined hopes, and withered feelings gave.

seful Domestic Hints.

CURE FOR A CONSUMPTION.

(For the Mirror. In the month of May, gather the flowers from the thorn bush-boil two bunches of the blossom in half a pint of milk-let it stand till it is about as warm as milk from the cow-drink it the first thing in the morning, and take a walk immediately afterwards, if the weather is favourable, and a cure will soon be effected.This recipe has performed a perfect cure on many persons; and one thing must strongly recommend it, which is, the impossibility of its being injurious to the complaint, or to health, and therefore

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AMONG the remedies for damps, one person recommends a sheet of lead a little above the surface of the ground, between the layers of brick in house building; and another, whalebone between the soles of our shoes. Both, it seems, are specifics against the ascent of damps to our dwellings and persons.

BLEACHING STRAW.

THE customary mode of bleaching straw for ornamental use, has been to stove it in a cask with burning brimstone; but there is a readier method, if judiciously applied-Take a solution of muriatic acid, and saturate it with potash until the effervescence subsides. Dip the straw

in the solution. Again the oxygenated

muriate of lime, which may be had at any chemist's shop, dissolved in water, will bleach straw without the least diminution of its flexibility.

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A GENTLEMAN, finding his stock of wines and spirits rapidly on the decline, asked his black butler, "Sancho, how is it the last wine has gone so quick?" Received for answer, "Why Massa's friends drink great deal, and Sancho's friends drink great deal." The difficulty was at once cleared up.

A BAILLIE in one of the towns on the coast of Fife had seen a ship go to pieces during a violent gale of wind; dead bodies, casks, chests, &c. came ficating in, but at length an object appeared which he could make nothing of; this was nothing more or less than a poor turkey, whose plumage prevented it from sinking, and which the waves were washing ashore. Whether it was that turkeys had never then been seen in Fifeshire, or that the terrific scene had utterly confused all distinctions in his mind between 200logy and ornithology, certain it is, that with his hair on end, and his mouth wide open, he rushed up to the town vociferating that he had seen a dreadful cretur— an awfu' cretur. "But what was it, Baillie ?" said the astonished citizens, "what was the cretur ?" "Well," said

he, "I canna tell, but as I am a living man, and hope for salvation, I tak' it to be ane elephant."

WATER is generally deemed perfectly level, if still; but it is certain, from the rotundity of the earth, that a canal, a mile long, having one continuate surface, has one of its ends eight inches below the level of the other.

A BOY, three years of age, was particu-
larly backward in his tongue, and his pa-
rents feared that he would never talk.-
"Send him to a girl's school," said a
friend.-The hint was adopted, and suc-
ceeded beyond expectation.

ON A GENTLEMAN NAMED
HEDDY.

In reading his name it may truly be said
You will make that man dy if you cut off
his Hed.

SIR JOHN PRINGLE, in one of his works, mentions his having cured a soldier by the daily use of the dog-andwhere now stands the Bethlem hospital, duck water, which in former days stood and was celebrated for a medicinal spa, as well as being a public-house of great resort. A French phician, who translated this passage o ir John's, said, that "the cure was effected by adminis ON a man who was killed by a fall from tering an excellent broth made of a dog a wagon-load of hay.

AN EPITAPH,

IN BRONLLYS CHURCH-YARD, IN

BRECONSHIRE.

Man's like a vapour, and

Full of woes;

He cuts a caper, and

Down he goes.

and duck!"

Printed and published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) and svin by all Newsmen and Booksellers

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-lane, formerly Bangor. It is St. Andrew's -east corner o. 1, and was the hops for many harles I.; after reign of Cromroper to restrain then erecting; hat "Sir John urchased of the ps' lands, the with the appuroe-lane, called 1 for years then e ground, about on it." They

this favour, that the place was "both dangerous and noisome to the passengers and inhabitants." The ground is now in possession of the see, and Mr. Barton has informed us, that in his juvenile days he remembers a garden, with lime trees, and a rookery, whose site is usurped by son.e very disagreeable erections. Thus, by degrees, the palace and its domains degenerated into the very wretched hovels at present existing there.

There is a pleasant recollection connected with this well-known part of the vast metropolis, and one cannot help feeling regret that so agreeable an association must soon be dissolved, as the whole of Shoelane is about to be pulled down in order to effect improvements on the spot now

ceding engraving and notice of BangorHouse, we are indebted to a correspondent, and as he has strictly confined himself to his subject, we may as well, before we quit this neighbourhood, here record a literary reminiscence connected with it. That extraordinary person, Thomas Chatterton--described by Wordsworth as

"The sleepless boy, who perished in his pride-" was buried in the workhouse in Shoelane. He died in Brook-street, Holborn, by a voluntary death, of poison. Of his body being interred in the poorhouse, an intelligent author has observed-" a circumstance at which one can hardly help feeling a movement of indignation. Yet what could beadles and parish-officers know about such a being? No more than Horace Walpole."'

The Months.

THE CUCKOO.

To the ornithologist the month of April is peculiarly interesting, as the migratory birds return, and delight us with a sight of their varied plumage, and their no less varied peculiarities of song. The night ingale has been already noticed by us, and as the lone cuckoo, with his melancholy note echoing from the thin-leaved grove, sends forth his song of solitary gladness, delighting every heart with his fresh welcome of the returning spring, we give him this poetical tribute:

SONNET TO THE CUCKOO. LONE bird, I hear thy melancholy voice, Amid the woods and thickets wandering; For it delighteth thee when coming Spring Puts forth the green leaf, and the flowers rejoice To herald forth the beauties of the year. I know not why thy monotones appear Wild and unearthly; and the hollow sound, As it goes floating on the air around, Seems born and destined for another sphere; But so it is; and though to some thou'rt drear, To me there is a measure in the tone Of thy simplicity, which strikes my ear With solitary sweetness, never known To them who wander not 'mid forests wildalone!

The process of vegetation is now general and rapid; and the blossoms of the apple and pear present to the eye a most agrecable spectacle.

THE BLOSSOM.

LITTLE thinkest thou, poor flower,
Whom I have watched six or seven days,
And seen thy birth, and seen what every hour
Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,

And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough,
Little thinkest thou

That it will freeze anon, and that I shall
To-morrow find thee fallen, or not at all.

DONNE.

The fascinations of the scenery of this delightful month are powerful and pleasing; and the alternate varieties of shower and sunshine enhance the beauty of budding leaves, tender grass, and the whole landscape of nature's charms.

THE SPRING SHOWER.

AWAY to that snug nook; for the thick shower
Rushes on stridingly. Ay, now it comes,
Glancing about the leaves with its first dips,
Like snatches of faint music. Joyous thrush,
It mingles with thy song, and beats soft time
To thy bubbling shrillness. Now it louder falls,
Pattering, like the far voice of leaping rills;
And now it breaks upon the shrinking clumps
With a crash of many sounds-the thrush is still.
There are sweet scents about us; the violet hides
On that green bank; the primrose sparkles
there :

The earth is grateful to the teeming clouds,
And yields a sudden freshness to their kisses.

But now the shower slopes to the warm west,

Leaving a dewy track; and see, the big drops,

Like falling pearls, glisten in the sunny mist.
The air is clear again, and the far woods
Shine out in their early green. Let's onward

then,

For the first blossoms peep about our path,
The lambs are nibbling the short dripping grass,
And the birds are on the bushes.

"BUFFOONS" AND "MY LORD MAYOR'S FOOL."

(For the Mirror.)

66

THERE have been fools in all ages of the world, and no one can predict when the race will terminate. Some derive the word buffoon from buffo," a name given to those who appeared on the Roman theatre, with their cheeks blown up; that, receiving blows thereon, they might make the greater noise and set the people "a-laughing." Others make the origin of buffoonery more ancient, tracing its origin from a feast instituted in Attica, called Buphonia. Among the Romans, buffoons were in high repute at the tables of great men. Gallienus never

sat down to meat without a second table of buffoons by him, alias Jack-puddings. Sir Thomas More, who was one of the greatest prodigies of wit and learning that England ever produced before his time, had his fool or jester, whose name was Henry Patenson; he gave this fool to "My Lord Mayor," and his succes* Knight's Quarterly Magazine, vol. i. p. 48.

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