self by a great variety of talents, carmot be supposed ignorant of the advantages of patient, tenacious Scotch perseverance. My friend has found it easy to live by many modes of industry, but difficult to find fame and eminence by any other than the beaten track of long, long patient plodding; and this he always thought too high a price for any sublunary advantages. He is a very clever fellow, and will one day, I have no doubt, pay me the two hundred and fifty But I beg the reader's pardon. It was about ten in the morning when I called. The servant who opened his door to me, declared that his master was engaged, but would see me in a few minutes. In the mean time he seated me at a large writing-table, on the only chair in the room that was not occupied by books or other articles, particularly a very large Leghorn bonnet, with flowers enough to make four handsome bouquets. A stranger would have wondered what a single man in the Temple could want with such a thing; but I, who have known him from a child, referred this phenomenon to some new proof of the versatility of his genius. I could not help remarking the very great confusion of his papers, which lay heaped in chaotic disorder on his table, and every other piece of furniture. As it was long before he made his appearance, I amused myself with reading such of the papers as were legible as they lay, without lifting or moving a single article, which I should have considered a breach of confidence. But surely, so far as a man chooses to lay his affairs before the world, it cannot be dishonourable to observe or to publish them. I found these readings so illustrative of my friend's character, that I committed them to paper, and now send them to you, in hopes they may amuse some of your readers, and convince all of the utility of folding, indorsing, tying up, labelling, and indexing their papers. -"Provided always nevertheless, and it is hereby mutually covenanted, declared, and agreed by and between the said several parties to these presents, that if at any time or times hereafter-" "The rivers backward to their sources flow, Lambs herd with lions, heat produces snow, Physicians shrink with horror from their fees, Or priests hate plenty, indolence, and ease—” "You will let mee have part of hit, has hit as now bin 5 ears standing. I ham, most respectably, Sir, "Your much obleedjd and humbel servunt, "SIMON SKIRT." "EPIGRAM ON A DUNNING TAYLOR?” ”J This was so scratched and blotted, that I could only make out the last word, which was "needle." This epi gram had, at least, a sting in its tail.'' ordinary acquittance : The next was the following extra "Received, 10th June, 1820, of Mrs. Amelia Jessamy, by the hands of Francis -, Esquire, one broken head, in full of all demands. "The mark of PATRICK ROURKE, "King Street, Soho." "At this important crisis, when the fates of our country seem poised in equilibrium, and the minutest weight, may produce a decisive movement, pregnant with destruction to all that loads the opposite scale at this eventful period when (astonishing as it appears) nothing but imbecility, arrogance, and folly, as the Edinburgh Review assures us, has attempted to point out the road to national prosperity, it is hoped that the following simple, perspicuous, and easy plan for relieving all the distresses of the country, annihilating discontent The rest of the sheet was blank'! "ACT III. SCENE, A Cavern. discovered drinking. GLEE. "While our priests refuse us wine, Robbers Shall ever keep me from my can "Enter Callisthenes, who harangues the band. They swear to aid the Greeks in their revolt, and exeunt, embracing Callisthenes and each other. Scene, the Turkish fortress. Enter the Greeks and Robbers with a real cannon. Abdallah defies them from the walls. Bombarding, storm, capture, and burning of the fortress. Abdallah fights, hanging by his feet on a beam.-Mem. that has been done.-Suppose Abdallah mor tally wounded, with his hands tied behind him, were to creep about the stage, biting the toes of the enemy.-Ida is rescued from the flames by -"Sir Wm. Curtis & Co. Lombard Street. "Please to call between 3 and 5 o'clock." "bargained, sold, aliened, released, ratified and confirmed, and by these presents doth grant, bargain, sell, alien, release, ratify, and confirm unto the said John Trot (in his actual possession now being, by virtue of a bargain and sale to him thereof made by indenture-" 66 THE BOWER OF FANCY. "In groves umbrageous, dark, romantic, grand, By fountains cool'd, by balmy zephyrs fann'd— Whence smiling lawns emerge, with flowrets fine, Now rise to hills, and now in vales decline, The precarious condition of human life, perpetually subject to the loss of its most valued possessions, and of those comfortable appendages which alone render it desirable, has occasioned a laudable exertion of the ingenuity of mankind to mitigate the ruinous consequences of individual misfortunes, by voluntarily dividing the damage among many associates, all of whom engage to contribute to a compensation for the accidental misfortunes which may happen to any of them. All possible injuries, which are capable of pecuniary compensation, may be made the subjects of insurance; and surely there are none against which it is more important to guard than matrimonial disappointments. Those sagacious dozens of good men, to whom injured husbands so often appeal, can always assess the exact value of a given wife, JOHN BULL.* THERE is no species of humour in which the English more excel, than that which consists in caricaturing and giving ludicrous appellations, or nicknames. In this way they have whimsically designated, not merely individuals, but nations; and in their fondness for pushing a joke, they have not spared even themselves. One would think, that in personifying itself, a nation would be apt to picture something grand, heroic, and imposing; but it is characteristic of the peculiar humour of the English, and of their love for what is blunt, comic, and familiar, that they have embodied their national oddities in the figure of a sturdy, corpulent old fellow, with a three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, leather breeches, and stout oaken cudgel. Thus they have taken a singular delight in exhibiting their most private foibles in a laughable point of view; and have been so successful in their delineations, that there is scarcely a being in actual existence more abso lutely present to the public mind, than that eccentric personage, John Bull. Perhaps the continual contemplation of the character thus drawn of them, has contributed to fix it upon the nation; and thus to give reality to what at first may have been painted in a great measure from the imagination. Men are apt to acquire peculiarities that are cons tinually ascribed to them. The common orders of English seem wonderfully captivated with the beau ideal which they have formed of John Bull, and endeavour to act up to the broad caricature that is perpetually before their eyes. Unluckily, they sometimes make their boasted Bull-ism an apology for their prejudice or grossness; and this I have especially noticed among those truly home-bred and genuine sons of the soil, who have never migrated beyond the sound of Bow-bells. If one of these should be a little uncouth in speech, and apt to utter impertinent truths, he confesses that he is a real John Bull, From Geoffrey Crayon's "Sketch Book." and always speaks his mind. If he now and then flies into an unreasonable burst of passion about trifles, he ob serves, that John Bull is a choleric old blade, but then his passion is over in a inoment, and he bears no malice. If he betrays a coarseness of taste, and an insensibility to foreign refinements, he thanks heaven for his ignorance-he is a plain John Bull, and has no relish for frippery and nicknacks. His very proneness to be gulled by strangers, and to pay extravagantly for absurdities, is excused under the plea of mummificence for John is always more generous than wise. Thus, under the name of John Bull, he will contrive to argue every fault into a merit, and will frankly conviet himself of being the honestest fellow in existence. However little, therefore, the character may have suited in the first instance, it has gradually adapted itself to the nation, or rather, they have adapted themselves to each other; and a stranger who wishes to study English peculiari ties, may gather much valuable information from the innumerable portraits of John Bull, as exhibited in the windows of the caricature shops. Still, however, he is one of those fertile humourists, that are continually throwing out new traits, and presenting different aspects from different points of view; and, often as he has been described, I cannot resist the temptation to give a slight sketch of him, such as he has met my eye. John Bull, to all appearance, is a plain downright, matter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about him than rich prose. There is little of romance in his nature, but a vast deal of strong natural feeling. He excels in 'humour, more than in wit; is jolly, rather than gay; melancholy, rather than morose; can easily be moved to a sudden tear, or surprised into a broad laugh; but he loathes sentiment, and has no turn for light pleasantry. He is a boon companion, if you allow him to have his humour, and to talk about himself; and he will stand by a friend in a quarrel, with life and purse, however soundly he may be cudgelled. In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a propensity to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy-minded personage, who thinks not merely for himself and family, but for all the country round, and is most generously disposed to be every-body's champion. He is continually volunteering his services to settle his neighbours' affairs, and takes it in great dudgeon if they engage in any matter of consequence without asking his advice; though he seldom engages in any friendly office of the kind with out finishing by getting into a squabble with all parties, and then railing bitterly at their ingratitude. He unluckily took lessons in his youth in the noble science of defence, and having accomplished himself in the use of his limbs and this weapons, and become a perfect master at boxing and cudgel play, he has had a troublesome life of it ever since. He cannot hear of a quarrel between the most distant of his neighbours, but he begins incontinently to fumble with the head of his cudgel, and consider whether his interest or honour does not require that he should meddle in the broils. Indeed, he has extended his relations of pride and policy so completely over the whole country, that no event can take place, without infringing some of his finely-spun rights and dignities. Couched in his little domain, with these filaments stretching forth in every direction, he is like some choleric, bottle-bellied old spider, who has woven his web over a whole chamber, so that a fly cannot buzz, nor a breeze blow, without startling his repose, and causing him to sally forth wrathfully from his den. Though really a good-hearted, goodtempered old fellow at bottom, yet he is singularly fond of being in the midst of contention. It is one of his peculiarities, however, that he only relishes the beginning of an affray: he always goes into a fight with alacrity, but comes out of it grumbling even when victorious; and though no one fights with more obstinacy to carry a contested point, yet, when the battle is over, and he comes to the reconciliation, he is so much taken up with the mere shaking of hands, that he is apt to let his antagonist pocket all they have been quarrelling about. It is not, therefore, fighting that he ought so much to be on his guard against, as making friends. It is difficult to cudgel him out of a farthing; but put him in a good humour, and you may bargain him out of all the money in his pocket. He is like one of his own ships, which will weather the roughest storm uninjured, but roll its masts overboard in the succeeding calm. He is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad; of pulling out a long purse; flinging his money bravely about at boxing matches, horse races, and cock fights, and carrying a high head among gentlemen of the fancy;" but immediately after one of these fits of extravagance, he will be taken with vio lent qualms of economy; stop short at the most trivial expenditure; talk desperately of being ruined, and brought upon the parish, and in such moods, will not pay the smallest tradesman's bill, without violent altercation. He is, in fact, the most punctual and discontented paymaster in the world; drawing his con out of his breeches' pocket with infinite reluctance; paying to the utter most farthing, but accompanying every guinea with a growl. With all his talk of economy, however, he is a bountiful provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His economy is of a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise how he may afford to be extravagant; for he will begrudge himself a beef-steak and pint of port one day, that he may roast an ox whole, broach a hogshead of ale, and treat all his neighbours, on the next. His domestic establishment is enormously expensive; not so much from any great outward parade, as from the great consumption of solid beef and -pudding; the vast number of followers he feeds and clothes; and his singular disposition to pay hugely for small serrices. He is a most kind and indulgent master, and, provided his servants humour his peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little now and then, and do not peculate grossly on him before his face, they may manage him to perfection. Every thing that lives on him seems to thrive and grow fat. His house servants are well paid, and pampered, and have little to do. His horses are sleek and lazy, and prance slowly before his state carriage 5 and his house-dogs sleep quietly about the door, and will hardly -bark at a housebreaker. His family mansion is an old castellated manor-house, grey with age, and of a most venerable, though weatherbeaten appearance. It has been built Lupon no regular plan, but is a vast accumulation of parts, erected in various tastes and ages. The centre bears evident traces of Saxon architecture, and is as solid as ponderous stone and old EngJish oak can make it. Like all the relics -of that style, it is full of obscure passages, intricate mazes, and dusky chambers; and though these have been partially lighted up in modern days, yet there are many places where you must still grope in the dark. Additions have been made to the original edifice from time to time, and great alterations have taken place; towers and battlements have been erected during wars and tu mults wings built in times of peace; and out-houses, lodges, and offices, run up according to the whim or convenience of different generations ; until it has become one of the most spacious, rambling tenements imaginable. An entire wing is taken up with the family chapel; a reverend pile that must once have been exceedingly sumptuous, and, indeed, in spite of having been altered and simplified at various periods, has still a look of solemn religious pomp. Its walls within are storied with the monuments of John's ancestors; and it is snugly fitted up with soft cushions and well-lined chairs, where such of his fa mily as are inclined to church services, may doze comfortably in the discharge of their duties. To keep up this chapel has cost John much money; but he is staunch in his religion, and piqued in his zeal, from the circumstance that many dissenting chapels have been erected in his vicinity, and several of his neighbours, with whom he has had quarrels, are strong papists. To do the duties of the chapel, he maintains, at a large expense, a pious and portly family chaplain. He is a most learned and decorous personage, and a truly well-bred Christian, who always backs the old gentleman in his opinions, winks discreetly at his little peccadilloes, rebukes the children when refractory, and is of great use in exhorting the tenants to read their bibles, say their prayers, and, above all, to pay their rents punctually, and without grumbling. The family apartments are in a very antiquated taste, somewhat heavy, and often inconvenient, but full of the solemn magnificence of former times; fitted up with rich, though faded tapestry, unwieldy furniture, and loads of massy gorgeous old plate. The vast fire-places, ample kitchens, extensive cellars, and sumptuous banqueting-halls, all speak of the roaring hospitality of days of yore, of which the modern festivity at the manor-house is but a shadow. There are, however, complete suites of rooms apparently deserted and time-worn; and towers and turrets that are tottering to decay; so that in high winds there is danger of their tumbling about the ears of the household. John has frequently been advised to have the old edifice thoroughly over hauled, and to have some of the use less parts pulled down, and the others strengthened with their materials; but the old gentleman always grows testy on this subject. He swears the house is an excellent house-that it is tight and weather-proof, and not to be shaken by tempests-that it has stood for several hundred years, and, therefore, is not likely to tumble down now- that as to its being inconvenient, his family is accustomed to the inconveniences, and would not be comfortable without them that as to its unwieldy size and irregular construction, these result from its being the growth of centuries, and being improved by the wisdom of every generation that an old family, like his, requires a large house to dwell in; new, upstart families may live in modern cottages and snug boxes, but an old English family should inhabit an old English manor-house. If you point out any part of the building as superfluous, he insists that it is material to the strength or decoration of the rest, and the harmony of the whole; and swears that the parts are so built into each other, that, if you pull down one, you run the risk of having the whole about your ears. The secret of the matter is, that John has a great disposition to protect and patronize. He thinks it indispensable to the dignity of an ancient and honourable family, to be bounteous in its appointments, and to be eaten up by dependants; and so, partly from pride, and partly from kind-heartedness, he makes it a rule always to give shelter and maintenance to his superannuated servants. The consequence is, that, like many other venerable family establishments, his manor is encumbered by old retainers whom he cannot turn off, and old styles which he cannot lay down. His mansion is like a great hospital of invalids, and, with all its magnitude, is not a whit too large for its inhabitants. Not a nook or corner but is of use in housing some useless personage. Groups of veteran beef-eaters, gouty pensioners, and retired heroes of the buttery and the larder, are seen lolling about its walls, crawling over its lawns, dozing under its trees, or sunning themselves upon the benches at its doors. Every office and out-house is garrisoned by these supernumeraries and their families; for they are amazingly prolific, and when they die off, are sure to leave John a legacy of hungry mouths to be provided for. A mattock cannot be struck against the most mouldering, tumble-down tower, but out pops, from some cranny or loop hole, the grey pate of some superannuated hanger-on, who has lived at John's expense all his life,. and makes the most grievous outcry, at their pulling down the roof from over the head of a worn-out servant of the family. This is an appeal that John's honest heart never can withstand; so that a man, who has faithfully eaten his beef and pudding all his life, is sure to be rewarded with a pipe and tankard in his old days. A great part of his park, also, is turned into paddocks, where his broken-down chargers are turned loose, to graze un-: disturbed for the remainder of their ex-, istence a worthy example of grateful recollection, which, if some of his neighbours were to imitate, would not be to their discredit. Indeed, it is one of his great pleasures to point out these, old steeds to his visitors, to dwell on their good qualities, extol their past services, and boast, with some little vainglory, of the perilous adventures and hardy exploits through which they have carried him. He is given, however, to indulge his veneration for family usages, and family incumbrances, to a whimsical extent. His manor is infested by gangs of gyp1 sies; yet he will not suffer them to be driven off, because they have infested the place time out of mind, and been regular poachers upon every generation of the family. He will scarcely permit a dry branch to be lopped from the great trees that surround the house, lest it should molest the rooks, that have bred there for centuries. Owls have taken possession of the dovecote; but they are hereditary owls, and must not be disturbed. Swallows have nearly choked up every chimney with their nests; martins build in every frieze and cornice crows flutter about the towers, and perch on every weather-cock; and old grey-headed rats may be seen in every quarter of the house, running in and, out of their holes undauntedly, in broad day-light. In short, John has such a reverence for every thing that has been. long in the family, that he will not hear even of abuses being reformed, because they are good old family abuses. ;. All these whims and habits have concurred woefully to drain the old gentleman's purse; and as he prides himself on punctuality in money matters, and wishes to maintain his credit in the neighbourhood, they have caused him |