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opposition or despite of them, unless you mean to convert a simple headache into a legitimate delirium.

I had returned in the pleasing hope that the course of nature had probably removed many of my persecutors to the stars, and. that in all likelihood the vocal organs of several of the more distinguished, had been pour encourager les autres,\ long since cleverly suspended in spirits, by the lovers of comparative anatomy, gentlemen who are indefatigable in getting possession, per fas atquenefas, of any favourite morsel of your mortal spoils. Alas! I am now convinced that they never die! The same cadence, the acute dagger-like scream from the top of the wind-pipe, (for the wretches literally " speak daggers") all as audible as ever. The parental howl, growl, screech, bawl, yell, or whine, (if the sire really be mortal, which I doubt), must be taught with uncommon diligence to the young Arcadians, for I did not escape a single agony, or find a single cord of catgut, "vocal no more." To whatever precautions of the parties themselves, or to whatever beneficent provisions of nature it may be owing,

"Uno avulso non deficit alter Aureut, rimiliquc, frondescit virga metallo."

A blind man in particular lives for ever; of that there can be no doubt. A blind man, did I say? every blind man that I recollect when I was a boy at school, or his tiiuXov, continues to cross me now, an interval quite sufficient to constitute what the Italians call un pezzo; or, Madam, if your curiosity is still more importunate, I am exactly as old as Horace was when he wrote his 13th Satire—

"Me quater undenos scias implevisse "Decembres."

There is, for instance, the man who sells boot laces, and enjoys as flourishing a commerce of leathern thongs as if he had lived among the'if Ajs«<o<, or the modern Albanians, (as I

sincerely wish he had)—you still hear the tap of his protruded stick on the pavement for half a league before he arrives! Then there is the Corydon, whose clarionet has been persecuting "Nanny" to " gang wi' him," to my knowledge for these ten years; but she remains, it seems, as attached to London, as inexorable as ever, as indifferent to his sufferings—and mine. I used to wonder that another of my blind friends, who delighted to make an eclat of his unjustifiable passion for " Roy's Wife," was not put down by the Society for the Suppression of Vice, (Oh ! that there was one for the suppression of noise!) as an inimical person; he has happily disappeared, so that perhaps my conjecture is verified, or a reconciliation has been effected between the parties, and Roy has obtained a proper compensation for his injuries in the civil and ecclesiastical courts. In the nonage of my experience, and the immaturity of my taste, I used to be scandalized, also, at several of these peripatetics, who called upon you in strains, as I foolishly thought, quite destructive of the emotion, to "pity the poor blind," or talked of their "precious sight," with appropriate gestures, and an adequate exhibition of white eyeballs. I am now convinced that the ostentation of misery is altogether of classical and heroic origin. Philoctetes utters more "O mes 7" about his sore foot, than a patient at St George's:—and (Edipus exposes his bodily ails and misfortunes in a strain of very edifying pathos.t I trust nothing, therefore, will ever be attempted in preventing these good people from going at large, on account not less of these pleasing souvenirs, than of the positive advantage derived from their undisputed possession of the pavement. All gives way before them. I have seen one of them , penetrate the phalanx of Jews and Gentiles, coachmen and cads, at the White Horse Cellar, with as much ease as the Telamonian Ajax would have cleft a column of Trojans, with Hector at their head, and have occasionally taken sly advantage of the circumstance, and followed in the rear; so that I am hound to say,

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"Stet forluna domus et avi numerentur avorum."

And yet how often, when I lodged at the shoemaker's, on the sunny or plebeian side of Berkeley-square, have I been obliged to endure the "crescente," or "diminuente" of "many a winding bout of linked sweetness,' always executed on the long side of that pleasant parallelogram! Although, as I was inducted into a great deal of local knowledge while I dwelt in that situation, I should be rather grateful than otherwise. It was there that I began to attend to the harmony and expressiveness of the various knockings or pulsations of which a street-door is susceptible. I shall say a word or two on this subject, as there are no knockers across the Channel.— "Quanquam animus meminisse horret —incipiam."—These instruments, like mortars, are made of bronze or east iron; and as they are of various calibres, they can, of course, project sound to various distances. A discharge of this kind in Grosvenor-square, when the wind is favourable, will frequently startle the deer in the Park, ruffle the water of the Serpentine, and vibrate in the alcoves of Kensington.!

I also conceive that there is already room, even in the present imperfect "state of the science," for distinguishing the different kinds of performance on this instrument, by an adequate nomenclature.

I would divide knocks, for the present, into, 1. Hesitating or submissive. These are usually performed by thin pale-looking persons with folded papers in their hands.—" Could I speak for a moment to the lady?" 2. Importunate or expostulating, performed by tradesmen.—" Did you tell Mr A. I called twice last week? When will he be at home?" 3. Confident or friendly.—" Well, John, is your master at home?" 4. Alarming or

fashionable. These are preceded by the short sharp stop of a carriage, generally of the barouche kind, and are followed by the sound of many feet in kid slippers on the staircase. Of single knocks I say nothing—ex uno disce omnes—there is no eloquence in them. The postman and the taxgatherer's knock of office, expresses the impatience of authority very intelligibly; and the knock domestic, your own knock, makes everybody / hope glad, and stirs up the spaniel from the hearth-rug. I have not leisure to notice the interesting association of bells and knockers into one compound instrument of considerably increased power, but at some future time I may probably favour the world with a small volume, entitled, " Tuptologia" (Keraunologia would be better still), with plates of the various kinds of knockers, and directions for their use. In fashionable streets, (sit obiter dictum,) the knockers ought to be of silver, the only objection to which is, that (notwithstanding the marvellous effects of education) they would occasionally be stolen.

I subjoin the following Table, in which I have availed myself of the language of science, to shew merely of what nicety the subject is susceptible.

Synopsis ram YL^ovaun.

1. Hypocrousis.—A modest timid inaudible knock.

2. Monocrousis.—The plain single knock of a tradesman coming for orders.

3. Dicrousis—The postman and taxgather.

4. Tricrousis.—The attempt of the same tradesman to express his impatience, and compel payment of his bill; he will not submit to the single knock any longer, and dares not venture on the following.

5. Tetracrousis.—Yourown knock; my own knock; a gentleman's knock.

6. Pollacrousis, or Keraunos.—A succession of repeated impulses of different degrees of force, ending in three

f The classical reader ought not to be incredulous; he recollects the blast of Akcto was heard at Narni.

Audiit et Tiivise longe lacus, audiit amnis
Sulfurea Nar albus aqua, ibntesque Velini.
"Thy springs, Velinus, caught the sound afar,
And Trivia's distant lake, and livid Nar."
Why should not the Serpentine have as good ears as the Nar?
Von. XV. N

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Once more in London.

or four of alarming empfca»»—vuU go a footman's knock, a thundering knock, &c. &c. &c.

In order to complete the little sketch that I proposed to give of the impressions which a return to London makes upon the senses, I now add a few miscellaneous remarks.

The climate and atmosphere of London is not only extremely salutary and contributive to the longevity of blind men, and other mendicants, but it is astonishingly favourable to that of jftsh, which, however deprived of their natural element, remain alive for a very considerable time. Cod, soles, and flounders, in London, are always "alive!" and living sprats are vended in myriads! The tenacity of life of some of these animals is so obstinate, that there is reason to believe they continue to live for several days together. It might be interesting to mark the tail of a particular individual, in order to learn how long he continues in this state of disagreeable existence. Salmon and herring, I observe, are only announced as being fresh, that is, recently dead. I looked out of my window one day on a basket of lobsters, which the proprietor declared to be alive; a peculiar species, I presume, for they were of that fine coral colour which this animal usually assumes when boiled.

In the early spring, among many little elegant local customs, this is one: That as you take a morning walk in the green park, you meet several young women, who extend a bunch of matches to the immediate vicinity of your nose, with as much confidence as if they were primroses. These flowers of Brimstone are the first vernal productions of the Flora Londinensis; they are not presented quite in so winning a way as the violets, that are thrown at you in the palais royal; but I have no doubt, that the bouquet, on the whole, is a wholseome one, and very probably useful as a prophylactic. To persons of classical mind, this offering of matches," Sulfura cum

tadis," will suggest the Lustrations of the ancients; though to others, of an irritable fibre, or uneasy conscience, I should be apprehensive that it might excite disagreeable reflections. Vide Giovanni, scene last. The usual impediments to accelerate motion continue, I find, to occur in various parts of the town. At the corner of Durham Street, on a rainy day, I think I may promise you a pause of about ten minutes, (which, if you don't employ in some profitable manner—as the pickpockets do—it is your own fault,) under a Testudo of wet silk and gingham, after the fashion of that plexusof shields, under which, to say nothing of the ancient warfare, II pio Goddofredo got possession of Jerusalem.*

Often, too, when you are most in a hurry, you will attend the passage of the same procession (a train of coal waggons, six in number, with six horses each!) in long diagonal from the end of the Haymarket, to Marybone Street, cutting off parties of light and heavy armed, impetuously facing each other. These at Weeks's museum, and Those at Eggs' the gun-makers—I have seen a great many manoeuvres practised on those occasions, but the coal waggons have always the best of it.

Such are the Trivial hinderances to the pedestrian in London. On such an ample theme it is difficult to desist; but troppo e troppo; I shall just run over the heads of my notes, and have done.—Walk into the city more pleasant than formerly—pavements wider, especially about Colnaghi's—houses down—more coming—(multa ceeidera cadentque) whole of city more healthy than formerly—ruddy nurserymaids (id genus omne interesting) and fine children—young cockneys grow taller—College of Physicians, removal of—how connected with foregoing remarks—cause or consequence ?—interesting question, but delicateBakers great admirers of the fine arts, stand at print shops—position of their Basket on those occasions—thrown on the back like the clypeus of a hero in re

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pose—advantage to passers by from that attitude—especially with black coats — Lamp-lighters —alarm occasioned by their thuribulum—benevolent provision for cats and dogs—barrows containing ditto on the pavement —provocative of appetite—.Tews ready to strip you to the skin, or clothe you at any price—or cram your pockets with open pen-knives and oranges (bad neighbours) on your own terms. White horse cellar, enlevement of young women (struggling in vain, to go to Fulham,) to Hammersmith or Brentford.

I hope I have now said enough, to put you in decent humour with the narrow, nnparallel, misleading; greasy streets of Paris, with all the accessories of cabriolets, puddles, and pontoons, by day, and the parade of sentinels and gend'armes by night, the "mille pericula scevas urbis," against which no carte de snreti will protect you. (By the way, old Gonsalvi set up that sort of thing at Rome last winter, together with a squad of saucy douaniers. Poor man! he might have been too happy to wear his red stock

ings in safety, without these pitiful imitations.)

In one respect, and with this I conclude, London has as yet unrivalled advantages. To persons who are curious to study the fates of heroes to the last, remembering that

Vox facunda Solonis Respicere ad longffi jussit spalia ultima vitae.

To such a philosophically-constituted mind,

Ex.ittnt ri» nMvlsuut iduv

a lodging in the Old Bailey offers decided advantages. He may there see the elements of tragedy, working Jj iA»? Mi <p»/S»v about every six weeks. There are several good houses just opposite to that well-known rendezvous of the luckless orator; that Anabathron from which none descends; that Pays {truly such) where he makes probably his first speech, and very certainly his last—here literally—

Mors ultima linea rerum.

G. B.

JWtotarn encjliaf) SBallata,

No. I.

!**••• The Ensign was evidently much affected on the defeat of his countryman. It was remarked, that for some days after the event, he Trent to bed bare-footed, and rose fasting. But on the occasion of Spring's triumphant entry, he was peculiarly dejected, and refused to look at it, which called forth the following ballad. It will be often imitated by modern poets, both in Spain and Germany.

Pon te a tancard de brounstout, dexa la suipa de strongsuig
Melancholico Odorti, veras al galopin Tomspring, &c.

It bears a great resemblance to the bridal of Andalla, p. 129, in Locksot's Spanish Ballads; and the succeeding one on poor Thurtell may, more remotely, remind the sentimental reader of his " Lament for Celin," originally published in this Magazine.^

Spring's Return.

Risk up, rise up, my Morgan, lay the foaming tankard down,
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.
From gay shin-bone and cleaver hard the marrowy notes are flowing.
And the Jew's-harp's twang sings out slap-bang, 'twixt the cow-horn's lordly

And greasy caps from butchers' heads are tossing everywhere,
And the bunch of fives of England's knight wags proudly in the air.
Rise up, rise up, my Morgan, lay the foaming tankard down,
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

Arise, arise, my Morgan, I see Tom Winter's mug, He bends him to the Fancy coves with a nod so smart and smug;Through all the land of great Cockaigne, or Thames's lordly river, Shook champion's fist more stout than his, more knock-me-downish never. Yon Belcher twisted round his neck of azure, mix'd with white, I guess was tied upon the stakes the morning of the fight. Rise up, rise up, my Morgan, lay the foaming tankard down, Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

What aileth thee, my Morgan? what makes thine eyes look down?
Why stay you from the window far, nor gaze with all the town?
I've heard thee swear in hexameter, and sure you swore the truth,
That Thomas Spring was quite the king of the fist-beshaking youth.
Now with a Peer he rideth here, and Lord Deerhurst's horses go
Beneath old England's champion, to the tune of Yo, heave ho!
Then rise, oh rise, my Morgan, lay the foaming tankard down,
You may here through the window-sash come gaze with all the town.

The Irish Ensign rose not up, nor laid his tankard down,
Nor came he to the window to gaze with all the town;
But though his lip dwelt on the pot, in vain his gullet tried,
He could not, at a single draught, empty the tankard wide.
About a pint and a half he drank before the noise grew nigh,
When the last half-pint received a tear slow dropping from his eye.
No, no, he sighs, bid me not rise, nor lay my tankard down,
To gaze on Thomas Winter with all the gazing town.

Why rise ye not, my Morgan, nor lay your tankard down?

Why gaze ye not, my Morgan, with all the gazing town?

Hear, hear the cheering, how it swells, and how the people cry,

He stops at Cribb's, the ex-champion's shop;—why sit you still, oh! why?

"At Cribb's good shop let Tom Spring stop, in him shall I discover

The black-eyed youth that beat the lad who cross'd the water over?

I will not rise with weary eyes, nor lay my tankard down,

To gaze on Langan's conqueror, with all the gazing town."*

* Mr Lockhart's Spanish ballad, " The Bridal of Andalla," of which Mr ODoherty has indited an imitation, runs thus. The Lament of Celin we have not room for. A prose article on Thurtell next month.

"Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down;
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.
From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing,
And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's lordly blowing,
And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere.
And the tall tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats proudly in the air;
Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down,
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

"Arise, arise, Xarifa, I see Andalla's face,
He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace,
Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquiver l
Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely never.
Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow of azure mix'd with white,
I guess 'twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed to-night;
Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down;
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

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