and Turner, landscape and sea-pieces; animals by Edwin Landseer, Cooper, and Ward; and miscellaneous subjects by Hayes, Stephanoff, Singleton, Gill, Corbett, Worthington, Edmonstone, Severn, Good, Jones, Danby, Westall, Eastlake, Mulready, Allan, Clint, Wood, Briggs, Leslie, and Newton. We have room for a brief description only of the following splendid works :

No. 178, The Crucifixion, W. Hilton, R. A. This picture is in three compartments, the centre, in which the cross is elevated, being circular at top. At the foot is a pathetic group of the earthly re latives and followers of Christ; at the sides, the guards, executioners, and other figures boldly contrasted, and admirably painted. One man, on the left as you look at the picture, with his arm stretched forward, is a superb example of foreshortening; and, what is of rare occurrence, the Saviour himself realizes the idea of divine beauty and earthly suffering combined in this awful scene. The effect of this sublime picture is solemn and powerful; and the whole performance reflects the highest credit on the talents of the artist.

No. 373, Scene on the French Coast, R. P. Bonnington. A pleasing effort. The water and figures are admirable.

No. 12, Judith and Holofernes, W. Etty, A. A very superior and magnificent work. Judith is uttering a short prayer while she raises the sword to smite off the head of the sleeping Holofernes.

And here, for the present, we conclude, as we intend speedily to resume our account of this popular exhibition.

QUESTIONS ANSWERED.

From the Monthly Magazine, Feb. 1827. Он, what is pleasure-in whose chase Life's one brief day is made a race

Of vanity and lightness?

A star, to gaze on whose bright crown
We wait until the sun goes down,
And find, when it has o'er us shone,
No warmth in all its brightness.

And what is friendship ?-that false flower
Which spreads its leaves at daylight's hour
And closes them at eve,

Opening its petals to the light

Sweet breathing-when the sun shines bright;
But shut to those who in the night
Of doubt and darkness grieve.

And what are hopes ?-gay butterflies,
That on the breath of fancy rise

Whene'er the sunshine lures them;
For ever, ever on the wing,
Mocking our faint steps following;
And if at last caught, periɛhing
in the grasp that secures them.

And what is fame 7-the smile that slays
The cup in which sweet poison plays,

At best the flowery wreath
That twines around the victim's head,
Where, 'mid sweet flowers around it spread,
And harps' and timbrels' sounds, 'tis led
Melodiously to death.

And our affections; what are they?
Oh! blossoms smiling on the spray,

All beauty and all sweetness
But which the canker may lay bare,
Or rude hands from the branches tear,
Or blighting winds leave withering there,
Sąd types of mortal fleetness.
And what is life itself?-a sail,
With sometimes an auspicious gale,

And some bright sunbeams round it;
But oftener amidst tempests cast,
The lowering sky, the howling blast,
And whelmed beneath the wave at last,
Where never plummet sounded.

LINES, IN REPLY TO THE ABOVE.
(For the Mirror.)

АH! Muse, thy voice is sweet and bright!
Thy harp is strung with wires of light,

Then why so sad thy lay?
Touch thou that joyless harp again,
Forget such cheerless, mournful strain-
Thy former theme of woe and pain,

And swell a note more gay;
So learn, thou sad desponding one,
Man is not made for tears alone.
The mine in night may darkling be,
Albeit he who delves will see

Full many a precious gem;
The wave may thick and turbid flow,
But treasures sleep far, far below,
And gladly will their wealth bestow
On bin who dives for them:
So deeper, Muse, thy labour press,
And latent good thy toil will bless.
Yes! Fame and Pleasure wild wisps are,
That promise joy and ease afar,

Their pledge and plight denying;
But on their simple prey they lure,
Telling of fountains gushing pure,
A green oäsis they ensure,

Then sink, and leave him dying:

If man-wild-faithless guides will choose
What wonder they his trust abuse?

Hope is the bow-Heaven's own bright bow,
That spans the sky with joyous glow,

Pledge of a fairer morn:

She comes, perchance, 'mid storm and shower,
But tho' dark clouds still weep and lower,
She promises a brighter hour,

A coming happier dawn:
She soothes all rising threat'ning sorrows,
And lends the radiant tints she borrows.
And friendship is the sun's bright beams,
Oh! 'tis no passing summer gleam,

Life's joy, and charm, and breath:
It shines thro' cold and wintry day,

It warms-it lights with constant ray,

And never, never fades away

Till comes the night of death:

Ah, Muse! thou canst not know the bliss

The spell of friendship true as this.

Then think not life a barren spot,
Where hope, and joy, and truth are not,
Man's lot to sorrow dooming;
No! 'tis a plain where sunbeams glow,
Where fruits and trees luxuriant grow,
And pure and sweet flowers gaily blow,
In fragrant beauty blooming.
Alas! alas! man rears rank weeds,
And scatters round him poison seeds.

There's not a gift, a good, a joy,
But man has laboured to destroy,

A blight o'er all things flinging:
God sends all good and blessing here,
To mend to purify-to cheer,
And fain would stanch the bitter tear,
From man's perverseness springing ;
Man's pride the proferred blessing spurns,
And veriest good to evil turns.

There is a man who calm can bear
This chequered scene of joy and care,
Is firm whate'er may come;
The path or smooth or rough may be,
He steps along all cheerfully,
Whate'er betide, right well knows he
He journeys to his home;
Each evil as each good compelling
To fit him for his heavenly dwelling.

H.

MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.

(For the Mirror.)

IT is well known, that Milton never enjoyed in his lifetime the reputation which he deserved. His Paradise Lost was long neglected. Lord Somers, by encouraging a good edition of it, about twenty years after the author's death, first brought it into request; and Tonson, in his dedication of a smaller edition, speaks of it as a work just beginning to be known. "It was (says Hume) during a state of poverty, blindness, disgrace, danger, and old age, that Milton composed his wonderful poem, which not only surpassed all the performances of his contemporaries, but all the compositions which had flowed from his pen, during the vigour of his age and the height of his prosperity." This circumstance is not the least remarkable of all those which attended that great genius. The forms of expression in which the sublime poet was regarded by Whitlock, lord keeper for the commonwealth, and Heath, the chronicler of the civil wars, are not a little amusing to posterity. The former speaks of "one Milton, a blind man," and says the latter, 66 one Milton, since stricken with blindness." These were men of reputation themselves, but says Walpole, " contemporaries are tolerable judges of temporary merit, but often most erroneous in their estimate of lasting fame."

Milton experienced some difficulty in getting his poem of Paradise Lost li

censed, the licenser imagining that, in the noble simile of the sun in an eclipse, he had discovered treason. It was, however, licensed, and Milton sold his MS. to Samuel Simmons, April 27, 1667, for an immediate payment of five pounds, with a proviso, that on thirteen hundred copies being sold, he was to receive five pounds more; and the same for the second and third editions.

The first edition appeared in 1667, in ten books, small quarto, advertised at 3s. plainly bound; but as it met with no very quick sale, the titles were varied, in order to promote its circulation—thus the edition of 1667, is frequently found with the titles of 1668 and 1669.

In two years, the sale of the poem gave the poet a right to his second payment, the receipt for which was signed, April 26, 1669.

The second edition was printed in 8vo. 1674, but the author did not live to receive the stipulated payment. The third edition was published in 1678. The copy-right then devolving to Milton's widow, she agreed with Simmons to receive eight pounds for it; this agreement was concluded, and the receipt signed December 21, 1680. Simmons transferred the right for twenty-five pounds, to a bookseller, named BrabaJacob Tonson, August 17, 1683, and zon Aylmer, and Aylmer sold half to the other half at a price considerably advanced, March 24, 1690.

Dr. Bentley, for his edition of Milton, in 1732, received one hundred and five pounds; and Dr. Newton, for editing and thirty pounds, and for Paradise the Paradise Lost, received six hundred Regained, one hundred and five pounds.

December 9, 1608, at the Sign of the Milton was born on the morning of Spread Eagle, Bread-street, Cheapside. Christ Church, Cambridge-died in Ar He was educated at St. Paul's School and tillery-walk, Bunhill-fields, 1674, aged sixty-six; and was buried at Cripplegate Church, where a monument was erected graphers, he has been justly accounted to his memory. By his more able bio"one of the greatest geniuses England fully sublime of any poet in any lanever produced," and the "most wonder. guage."

F. R. Y.

LAVENHAM BELLS.
(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

SIR, The bells in Lavenham tower, Suffolk, having been long admired by the curious in bell-ringing, a description of them may not be unacceptable to your

numerous Suffolk readers, if not the readers of the MIRROR in general, particularly to the antiquary and lover of harmony; and if you think the following account of them worthy a place in your amusing and instructive work, you will oblige a subscriber by inserting it. H. M. K.

WEIGHT.

Treble, 7 cwt. 4lbs. ; second, 6 cwt. 2 qrs. 8 lbs.; third, 74 cwt.; fourth, cwt.; fifth, 10 cwt.; sixth, 13 cwt.; seventh, 17 cwt.; tenor, 23 cwt.

INSCRIPTIONS.

"Let India boast her plants, nor envy we
The weeping amber, or the balmy tree,
While by our oaks, the precious loads are born,
And realms commanded which those trees adorn.
Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight,
Tho' Gods assembled grace his tow'ring height,
Than what more humble mountains offer here,
Where in their blessings, all those Gods appear.
See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd;
Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'd ground,
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.**
P. T. W.

Hormesby, church-wardens of Lavenham. Between the words "De Lavenham" and "Jacobvs" is "Ricardus Bowler," and a little below-" Me Fecit, 1603," i. e. Richard Bowler made me in 1603.

5th. Henry Pleasant Made Me, 1703. 6th. Hic mevs vsvs erit popvlvm clamore

vocare.

That is, this shall be my use, to call the people by my voice. This bell is dated 1603," and below the date, on another line, is "Ricardys Bowler Me Fecit," i. e. Richard Bowler made me. This bell is embellished in four different places with a dwarfish figure, having its arms and legs extended, and is otherwise much ornamented.

7th. Henry Pleasant Made Me, 1702. 8th. Myles Graye Made Me, 1625.

The note of the tenor is so fine as

hardly to be surpassed by that of any bell in the kingdom.

John Kirby, treating of Lavenham bells, in his well-known Suffolk Traveller, printed ninety-two years ago, says, page 88, "the tenor bath such an admirable note, as perhaps England has none to compare to it."

Sir Symonds D'Ewes, who was lord of the manor of Lavenham, and one of the most learned antiquaries of his time, was a bell ringer, as was Sir Matthew Hale, lord chief justice of the court of Common Pleas. William Cecil, high treasurer of England, was also a bell-ringer.

DELIGHTFUL WOODS.

(For the Mirror.) AT Cape Verd, in Africa, are woods of orange and lemon trees; in Ceylon, are woods of cinnamon trees; in the Molucca

No. VI.

LEAMINGTON.

THE town of Leamington is delightfully seated on the banks of the river Leam, from whence it derives its name, and is distant about two miles from Warwick. It was originally called Leamington Priors, as it formerly belonged to the priory of Kenilworth, but is now more properly designated Leamington Spa, Till within these few years, Leamington was a mean inconsiderable village, consisting of a few scattered cottages, but has acquired that celebrity which it at present enjoys, on account of the medicinal properties of its saline springs; and may now, with justice, be said to vie in comfort and elegance with any of the watering places in the kingdom. Where

a short time since the corn and grass grew with luxuriance, we now see

"With pleasure and surprise, Superb hotels and handsome structures rise, With aspect fair, and numerous now they stand, Meet to receive the Princes of the land."

It is evident, however, from the following passage in Camden's Britannia, that the saline properties of these springs have been known for several years, "Leamington, (so called from the little river Leame, which runs through the precinct thereof,) where there rises a salt spring." Dugdale also, in his History of Warwickshire, observes, "Nigh to the east end of the church there is a spring of salt water, (not above a stone's throw from the river Leame,) whereof the inhabitants make much use for seasoning meat."

* Pope's "Windsor Forest »

The river, (over which is a stone bridge of three arches,) divides the town into two parts, which are distinguished by the Old and New Town. The pump-room, or royal bath, is situated in the new town, near the bridge; it is an elegant structure of stone, with a colonnade on three of its sides, formed by pillars of the Doric order; the interior is nearly one hundred feet in length, and is lighted by a range of seven windows on one side, and on the opposite by a large window of stained glass. In the erection of this building, upwards of £25,000. were expended. Besides the pump-room there are several other baths erected in different parts of the town.

Leamington is by no means deficient in places of amusement, the principal of which are the libraries, assembly-rooms, theatre, and Ranelagh-gardens, together with picture-galleries, and bazaars.

The church, which is an ancient building, has now assumed the appearance of a modern edifice, from the additions and repairs it has recently undergone.

The neighbourhood of Leamington abounds with objects alike interesting to the lover of nature, and the antiquary. Amongst these stand pre-eminent, Warwick Castle, Kenilworth Castle, Guy's Cliff, celebrated as the residence of the renowned Guy, earl of Warwick, who, as the tradition has it, after he had achieved his martial exploits, built here a chapel, led a hermit's life, and was at last buried. Blacklow Hill, noted as the place where Piers Gaveston was beheaded, by Guy de Beauchamp, earl of Warwick. Offchurch, famous as being the residence of Offa, king of Mercia, who had a magnificent palace here, where he occasionally resided, and was buried. M. H.

FANCY IN NUBIBUS.

A Sonnet, composed on the Sea Coast.
BY S. T. COLERIDGE.

O it is pleasant, with a heart at ease,

Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies, To make the shifting clouds be what you please, Or bid the easily persuaded eyes

Own each strange likeness issuing from the mould

Of a friend's fancy; or, with head bowed low, And cheek aslant, see rivers flow of gold

'Twixt crimson barks, and then a traveller go From mount to mount o'er CLOUDLAND, gorgeous land!

Or listening to the tide with closed sight, Be that blind bard, who on the Chian strand, By those deep sounds possess'd with inward light,

Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssee

Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sca:

The Sketch Book.

No. XXXVII.

OLD FACES.

THERE is not a fragment of antiquity recorded in Belzoni's Travels, or preserved in the British Museum, that has half the interest of an old face. In spite of all the classic zeal with which a traveller first beholds the mighty Parthenon—in spite of all that affected adoration which we are taught at school for the Grecian ard Ro man republics-we cannot tread the ground where once their grandeur lived, and where now it lies entombed in massy monuments of mouldering art, without that sentiment of desolateness which Lord Byron has so ably painted in his poem called “The "Giaour,"

"'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!" &c.

The

It is impertinent to quote at length what all the world knows by heart. But in an old face there is no such sentiment; age has been busy with it-so it has with our own. Go to the haunts of thy youth, gentle reader, whether they have been in cities or villages; the old houses you may recollect-they were old when you were young, and they are no more than old now. The old church does not now seem more ivy-grown than it did forty years ago; the village green bears now, as it did then, its short, close, nibbled grass; and the little stream, that you have often crossed, by means of the large broad stones that are placed across its bed, seem like the fragments of some Lilliputian bridge, runs on as clear as ever. pebbles on its bed are not washed cleaner by the ablutions of years; the pollard willows have still the same aspect, with young shoots on their old stems; the cottages have been whitewashed over and over again, and there they stand as trim and neat, or picturesque, as ever; but you have been in the busy world, and cares have worn you. All the fair phantoms of imaginative youth have faded away, one after the other, and there is nothing here to sympathize with you; but if you meet with the old faces again, then the past is alive indeed. "What! my old schoolmistress! I knew your face again, as if it were but yesterday that I parted with you; and you look so cheerful.""Alack, sir, I have much to be thankful for indeed at my time of life I must not look to be very cheerful; I have had my troubles. You remember my poor Bridget; she was a great comfort to me; but now my only remaining prop is removed. But you are amazingly altered — time makes great changes."

We don't want to be told by every body

we are growing old; but when the memento comes from the kind, feeling, and tremulous voice of an old familiar face, there is something soothing in it-it is one of nature's kindest homilies-there is no triumph over our infirmities, but a sympathy with them. There is a feeling in it which cannot be analyzed, and one does not wish to make the attempt.

There is in the human face what may be not profanely called its "latter-day glory." There is a mildness in the lines of age which promises all the fidelity of a chronicle, without the bitterness of party spirit. If there be any thing good in the heart, age will paint it on the face. If in our journey through life we have had bitter feelings towards each other, and nursed in early youth deep resentments for imagined wrongs, how kindly does time soften down the asperities. Let two that have, in the heat of youthful blood, contended with animosity, and opposed each other with all the fervency of intemperate zeal, meet again in latter years, how ready will each be to apologize, and how reluctantly will each receive the concessions that each is ready to make.

"While yet we live-scarce one short hour, perhaps,

Between us two let there be peace.

MILTON.

We are now writing in rather a desultory vein-be it so. This is not a subject to be minced and measured out by firstly, secondly, and thirdly. When old friends meet, they are not apt to be very chronological in their talk; the past is all before them-they choose at liberty where best they like. Questions and answers, exclamations, and half-formed narratives, form the lovely and interesting chaos of their chat. If we were greeted by an old acquaintance, and asked a regular series of questions in a cool, deliberate order, we should suspect that he was prompted by any thing but feeling, and had, perhaps, some design upon us -may be of writing a biography.

Distance of place will, in some instances, produce nearly the same effect as length of time. There can be very little of this sentiment in our own island. The abominable facility of travelling by fly. coaches and steam-packets gives us all a species of ubiquity-we are here and there and every where. But there is no such facility for distant lands. We cannot sail to Africa or Asia faster than the winds and waves will let us.* The Bay of Biscay and the sands of Arabia equally defy Mr. M'Adam. The Niger is not

*

Our worthy friend, then, does not take cognizance of "The Enterprise" and the creations of our great two-hundred horse power Watt.-ED.

navigated by steam-boats, nor are the deserts of Africa accommodated by post. coaches passing every hour. To meet with an old familiar face, in a distant region, is then a luxury sweet as it is rare.

One who bears only the generic name of Englishman is a treasure; but should he speak the dialect of our native county, or have had his birth in our own town, even though of diverse opinions upon the subjects which separate us here how dear would be his presence in those remote regions. There would be no thought of distance or of coldness; the past would be forgotten, and all harsh domestic features would be softened by the distance of home. Or, should the traveller meet in those realms an old familiar face, not all the zeal of research, and the ardour of antique idolatry, could resist the charm. The journal of that day would be marked with a white stone. "Twould be an oäsis in the desert a rose blossoming in the wilderness.

The sympathy pervades nature. The brute creation feels it. When poor old Argus crawled to meet his long-lost master, Ulysses,

"Own'd his returning lord, look'd up and died," that was something like a welcome; and even the crafty Greek was surprised into unexpected emotion.

To know the value and interest of old faces, we have only to ask ourselves how we have felt at meeting an old friend with a new face. W. P. S.

The Movelist.

No. CII.

THE GUERILLA BROTHERS. THE spirit of chivalry which at one time shed a lustre over the name of the unhappy Spaniard, seemed to rekindle for a moment in the day of their degradation— when the giant tread of Napoleon echoed along the track in which the Roman, the Goth, and the Moor had successively preceded him; and the annals of those desperate struggles which ensued, afford examples of high enthusiasm and heroic valour which seem to belong rather to the history of former times than to the dark and blotted page of the present.

Among the desperate adventurers of Merida's band were two brothers noted for their daring courage, if courage it may be termed, which sets every calculation of danger at defiance. They had volunteered into the band at the same time; following the same fortunes, sharing the same dangers, and reaping the same glory, it may be supposed that un