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cluding with an A BC and numerals, and the name of the fair industrious, expressing it to be "her work, Jan. 14, 1762." The rest of the furniture consists of a looking-glass with carved edges, perhaps a settee, a hassock for the feet, a mat for the little dog, and a small set of shelves, in which are the Spectator and Guardian, the Turkish Spy, a Bible and Prayer-book, Young's Night-Thoughts, with a piece of lace in it to flatten, Mrs. Rowe's Devout Exercises of the Heart, Mrs. Glasse's Cookery, and perhaps Sir Charles Grandison, and Clarissa. John Buncle is in the closet among the pickles and preserves. The clock is on the landing-place between the two room-doors, where it ticks audibly but quietly; and the landing-place, as well as the stairs, is carpeted to a nicety. The house is most in character, and properly coeval, if it is in a retired suburb, and strongly built, with wainscot rather than paper inside, and lockers in the windows. Before the windows also should be some quivering poplars. Here the Old Lady receives a few quiet visitors to tea and perhaps an early game at cards; or you may sometimes see her going out on the same kind of visit herself, with a light umbrella turning up into a stick and crooked ivory handle, and her little dog equally famous for his love to her and captious antipathy to strangers. Her grandchildren dislike him on holidays; and the boldest sometimes ventures to give him a sly kick under the table. When she returns at night, she appears, if the weather happens to be doubtful, in a calash; and her servant, in pattens, follows half behind and half at her side, with a lantern.

Her opinions are not many, nor new. She thinks the clergyman a nice man. The duke of Wellington, in her opinion, is a very great man; but she has a secret preference for the marquis of Granby. She thinks the young women of the present day too forward, and the men not respectful enough: but hopes her grandchildren will be better; though she differs with her daughter in several points respecting their management. She sets little value on the new accomplishments: is a great though delicate connoisseur in butcher's meat and all sorts of housewifery and if you mention waltzes, expatiates on the grace and fine breeding of the minuet. She longs to have seen one danced by sir Charles Grandison, whom she almost considers as a real person. She

likes a walk of a summer's evening, but avoids the new streets, canals, &c. and sometimes goes through the church-yard where her other children and her husband lie buried, serious, but not melancholy She has had three great æras in her life,her marriage, her having been at court to see the king, queen, and royal family,and a compliment on her figure she once received in passing from Mr. Wilkes, whom she describes as a sad loose man, but engaging. His plainness she thinks much exaggerated. If any thing takes her at a distance from home, it is still the court; but she seldon stirs even for that. The last time but one that she went was to see the duke of Wirtemberg: and she has lately been, most probably for the last time of all, to see the princess Charlotte and prince Leopold. From this beatific vision, she returned with the same admiration as ever for the fine comely appearance of the duke of York and the rest of the family, and great delight at having had a near view of the princess, whom she speaks of with smiling pomp and lifted mittens, clasping them as passionately as she can together, and calling her, in a sort of transport of mixed loyalty and self-love, a fine royal young creature, and daughter of England.-Indicator.

The Season.

Sudden storms of short duration, th last blusters of expiring winter, frequently occur during the early part of the present month. These gales and gusts are mostly noticed by mariners, who expect them, and therefore keep a good "look out for squalls." The observations of seamen upon the clouds, and of husbandmen on the natural appearances of the weather generally, would form an exceedingly curious and useful compendium of meteorological facts.

Stilling the Sea with Oil.

Dr. Franklin suggests the pouring of oil on the sea to still the waves in a storm, but, before he lived, Martin wrote an "Account of the Western Islands of Scotland," wherein he says, "The steward of Kilda, who lives in Pabbay, is accustomed in time of a storm to tie a bundle of puddings, made of the fat of sea-fowl, to the end of his cable, and lets it fall into the sea behind the rudder; this, he says, hinders the waves from breaking, and calms the sea; but the scent of the grease attracts the whales, which put the vessel in danger."

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On the 5th of February, 1760, Dr. Browne Willis died at Whaddon hall, in the county of Bucks, aged 78; he was born at St. Mary Blandford, in the county of Dorset, on the 14th of September, 1682. He was unexcelled in eagerness of inquiry concerning our national antiquities, and his life was devoted to their study and arrangement. Some interesting particulars concerning the published labours and domestic habits of this dis

tinguished individual, will be given in a subsequent sheet, with one of his letters, not before printed, accompanied by a facsimile of his handwriting.

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The Season and Smoking.

At this time, Dr. Forster says that people should guard against colds, and, above all, against the contagion of typhus and other fevers, which are apt to prevail in the early spring. "Smoking tobacco," he observes, "is a very salutary practice in general, as well as being a preventive against infection in particular. The German pipes are the best, and get better as they are used, particularly those made of merschaum, called Ecume de Mer. Next to these, the Turkey pipes, with long tubes, are to be recommended; but these are fitter for summer smoking, under the shade of trees, than for the fireside. The best tobacco is the Turkey, the Persian, and what is called Dutch canaster. Smoking is a custom which should be recommended in the close cottages of the poor, and in great populous towns liable to contagion.

The Rule of Health.

Rise early, and, take exercise in plenty,
But always take it with your stomach empty.
After your meals sit still and rest awhile,
And with your pipe a careless hour beguile.
To rise at light or five, breakfast at nine,
Lounge till eleven, and at five to dine,

To drink and smoke till seven, the time of tea,
And then to dance or walk two hours away
Till ten o'clock,-good hour to go to nest,

Till the next cock shall wake you from your rest.

On the virtues of tobacco its users enhance with mighty eloquence, and puff it bravely.

In praise of Tobacco.

Much food doth gluttony procure to feed men fat like swine, But he's a frugal man indeed

who on a leaf can dine.

He needs no napkin for his hands, his finger ends to wipe, Who has his kitchen in a box, his roast-meat in a pipe.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature . . . 39 · 47.

February 7.

1826.-SHROVE TUESDAY.

Several of the customs and sports of this day are related in vol i. p. 242-261. It is the last meat day permitted by the papacy before Lent, which commences to-morrow, and therefore in former times, full advantage was taken of the expiring opportunity to feast and make merry. Selden observes, "that what the church debars us one day, she gives us leave to eat another-first, there is a carnival, and then a Lent." This period is also recorded in the homely rhymes of Barnaby Googe.

Shrove-tide. Now when at length the pleasant time of Shrove-tide comes in place,

And cruell fasting dayes at hand

approach with solemne grace.

Then olde and yong are both as mad,
as ghestes of Bacchus' feast,
And foure dayes long they tipple square,
and feede and never reast.

Downe goes the hogges in every place,
and puddings every where

Do swarme the dice are shakte and tost, and cardes apace they teare:

In every house are showtes and cryes, and mirth, and revell route,

And daintie tables spred, and all

be set with ghestes aboute:

With sundrie playes and Christmasse games, and feare and shame away,

The tongue is set at libertie,

and hath no kinde of stay.

Naogeorgus.

The Great Seal in Danger. February 7, 1677, about one in the morning, the lord chancellor Finch's mace was stolen out of his house in Queen-street; the seal laid under his pillow, so the thief missed it. The famous thief that did it was Thomas Sadler, he was soon after taken, and hanged for it at Tyburn on the 16th of March.*

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature... 37 37.

February 8.

1826.-ASH WEDNESDAY,

The First Day of Lent.

To the particulars concerning this day, and the ashes, (in vol. i. p. 261,) is to be added, that the ashes, made of the branches of brushwood, properly cleansed, sifted, and consecrated, were worn four times a year, as at the beginning of Lent; and that on this day the people were excluded from church, husbands and wives parted bed, and the penitents wore sackcloth and ashes.t

According to the Benedictine rule, on Ash Wednesday, after sext, the monks were to return to the cloister to converse; but, at the ringing of a bell, be instantly silent. They were to unshoe themselves, wash their hands, and go to church, and make one common prayer. Then was to follow a religious service; after which the priest, having consecrated the ashes, and sprinkled holy water on them, was 'to

Life of Ant. a Wood.
Fosbroke's British Monachism.

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Mat. He says Porter. It's the name of a liquor the London kennel* much delight in.

Ponser. Ay, 'tis so; and I remember another namesake of his. I was hand in glove with him, I'll tell you a droll story about him

Court. Hush, brother. Culprit, how will you be tried?

Counsel for the Prosecution. Please your worship, he won't say a word. Stat mutus-as mute as a fish.

Court. How?- what?-won't the dog speak? Won't he do what the court bids him? What's to be done? Is the dignity of this court to be trifled with in such a manner?

Counsel for Pros. Please your worships--it is provided by the statute in these cases, that when a culprit is stubborn, and refuses to plead, he is to be made to plead whether he will or no.

Court. Ay? How's that, pray? Counsel for Pros. Why, the statute says-that he must first of all be thumbscrewed

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Court. Very likely.

Counsel for Pros. And thereby saves the court a great deal of trouble; and the nation, the expense of a halter.

Court. Well, then, since the land stands thus-constable, twist a cord about the culprit's

Counsel for Pros. Fore-paws. Constable. Four paws? Why he has but two.

Court. Fore-paws, or fore-feet, blockhead! and strain it as tight as you can, 'till you make him open his mouth.

[The constable attempted to enforce the order, but in drawing a little too hard, received a severe bite.] Constable. 'Sblood and suet! He has snapped off a piece of my nose.

Court. Mr. Constable, you are within the statute of swearing, and owe the court one shilling.

Constable. Zounds and death! your worships! I could not help it for the blood o' me.

Court. Now you owe us two shillings. Constable. That's a dd bad plaster, your worships, for a sore nose!

Court. That being but half an oath, the whole fine amounts to two shillings and sixpence, or a half-crown bowl. So, without going further, if you are afraid of his teeth, apply this pair of nut-crackers to his tail.

Constable. I shall, your worships. [He had better success with the tail, as will now appear.]

Prisoner. Bow, wow, wow, ow,

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wow!

do.

Court. Hold! Enough. That will

It was now held that though the prisoner expressed himself in a strange language, yet, as he could speak no other, and as the law can not only make dogs to speak, but explain their meaning too, so the law understood and inferred that the prisoner pleaded not guilty, and put himself upon his trial. Issue therefore being joined, the Counsel for the Prosecution proceeded to address the Court; but was stopped by the other side.

Prisoner's Counsel. I take leave to demur to the jurisdiction of the court. If he is to have a trial per pares, you must either suppose their worships to be his equals, that is to say, not his betters, which would be a great indignity, or else you must have a venire for a jury of twelve dogs. I think you are fairly caught in this dilemma.

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