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Whereas a multiplicity of dangers are often occurred, by damage of outrageous accidents by fire, we whose names are undersigned, have thought proper, that the benefit of an engine bought by us, for the better extinguishing of which by the accidents of Almighty God may unto us happen, to make a rate, to gather benevolence for the better propagating such useful in


Can any thing be more perfect than the confusion of intellect displayed in this ingenious composition?

But it is not for their amusing qualities alone that such a selection of

advertisements is to be regarded, since nothing affords us more authentic information on the pursuits, pleasures, tastes, traffic, and employments of the times gone by than these perishable memorials. We have very lately fallen in with a considerable portion of The Spectator in its original folio numbers, and have enjoyed those admirable papers with higher zest, from the column of advertisements which accompanies the shorter articles. These almost persuade a person that he is living in the days of Addison and Steele, for the new plays, new publications, old wines, and older pictures, together with milk of roses for the ladies, and famous blacking for the gentlemen, meet him in every corner, with very little variation (price excepted), from similar announcements in the Morning Post of yesterday.

Among the various temptations held forth, we confess that our mouths somewhat watered at the delicious wines, "neat as they came from the grape, of the best growth in Portugal. To be sold by the importer in a vault in Brabant-court, Philpot-lane; viz. Red and White Port at 5s. per gallon. Red and White Lisbon at 5s. 6d." This appears in No. 221, Nov. 13, 1710, and the same paper tells us that "The merchant, at his house in Mincing-lane, next to Tho. Palmer, Esq. has on sale a fresh parcel of new French wines, viz. Obryan Claret at 3s. the bottle, or 3s. 9d. the flask; Hermitage and Burgundy at 5s. the flask."-"Messrs. Smith and Company under Thavies Inn, offer their new natural red and white Oporto

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wine, now arrived and just landed, at 16d. per quart without doors and 18d. within: new Viana red at the Palm Canary at 2s. per quart_withsame: new Sherries at 20d. per quart: out, and 2s. 4d. within: and Barcelona, deep, bright, strong, at 12d. quart without doors and 14d. within." The last paragraph in the advertisement gives us a reason for the two prices; namely," there are good rooms and accommodations for genfire, and accommodation was protlemen," so that the charge for room, drunken, and a bonus was held out portioned to the quantity of wine indulgences at home and with their to those who would partake of their families.

tion was offered in No. 235, in a noBut perhaps the strongest tempta

tice which we copy

entire :

The richest Palm Canary Wine that and all; of a noble racy Flavour, never ever was drank, for 28s. the Dozen, Bottles touch'd since it came over, if one man may believe another, but purely neat from the Grape, bottled off from the Lees; no Sack in England so good: All that taste it like it, Quality and Gentry send for it over it not a choice Flower. The longer 'tis and over, which they would not do, were kept the richer it grows. Sold only at the Golden Key in Hoyden Yard in the Minories. None less than three Bottles. Also the remainder of about 50 dozen of curious French Claret (in Bottles) which a Gentleman (deceas'd) reserved for his own drinking. Sold at 33s. a dozen, Bottles and all,

none less than 4 Bottles. It is entire and neat Wine, so choice good, that none that it, a certain Person of Quality had a conunderstand true French Claret can dislike siderable number of dozens of it.

the player, took the Bumper tavern, In the latter end of 1711, Estcourt in James-street, which he opened on the first day of Covent-garden, the new year, with a new supply of wines, bought of Brookes and Hellier, the Smiths and Chalier of the day. In No. 264, of the Spectator, is a puff of Estcourt's house, written, no doubt, by Steele, who probably had good reasons for the indulgence; and in an advertisement at the end of the paper for Dec. 28,* the fraternity of wine-bibbers are assured,

By the way, the Editor of any new edition of the Spectator would do well to print Estcourt's advertisement, as a note to Steele's paper, 264, as without it the drift of Sir Roger's supposed Letter is not very easily understood.

that they cannot fail of having the very best of wines there, because "honest Anthony the vender is a person altogether unknowing in the wine trade.' This, perhaps, is the only instance on record of a man being calculated to make a better - tradesman than his neighbours, because he does not understand his busi ness; although it is obvious that the inference intended to be drawn is, that he was ignorant only of the tricks of the trade, and would not mar his master's wine by mixing. It would be well for us if we had a few such unpractised vintners in these days, when bottles are blown twentytwo to the dozen, and more Portwine is sold in London in six months than comes to all England in twentyfour.

Lest the ladies should suppose they were forgotten, the advertising columns of the SPECTATOR teem with "The chrystal cosmetick, which cures all red faces (No. 386)," as well as

The famous Bavarian Red Liquor : Which gives such a delightful blushing Colour to the Cheeks of those that are White or Pale, that it is not to be distinguished from a natural fine Complexion, nor perceived to be artificial by the nearest Friend. Is nothing of Paint, in the least hurtful, but good in many Cases to be taken in wardly. It renders the Face delightfully handsome and beautiful; is not subject to be rubb'd off like Paint, therefore cannot be discover'd by the nearest Friend. It is certainly the best Beautifier in the World. Is sold only at Mr. Payn's Toyshop at the Angel and Crown in St. Paul's Church-yard, near Cheapside, at 3s. 6d. a Bottle, with Directions (No. 234).

Then there is "Angelic Snuff, the most noble composition in the world, certainly curing all manner of disorders, and being good for all sorts of persons" (No. 386), as well as "a small quantity of double distilled waters, made by Troteme Ribequi, principal distiller to the Duke of Savoy," at the trifling price of three guineas a chest (No. 394), and above all,

At the Lace Chamber on Ludgate-hill, kept by Mary Parsons, is lately come over

great Quantities of Flanders-Lace, with variety of new fashion Patterns: She bought them there herself, so will sell great Pennyworths by Wholesale or Retail (No. 415).

The species of advertisement in which the SPECTATORS are most deficient, when compared with the papers of the present day, are those which promise rapid conveyances from one part of the kingdom to another. We have only discovered one that at all relates to this subject.

A Coach and six able Horses will be at the one Bell in the Strand to Morrow being Tuesday the 10th of this Instant June, bound for Exon, Plymouth, or Falmouth, where all Persons shall be kindly used. (No. 400.)

Now as the six able horses aforesaid were to perform the whole journey, we suppose that the happy passengers might be some six or seven days before they arrived at their destination, so that the promise of kind usage on the road was not altogether superfluous. It is well known, that at the period in which the coach and six able horses started for Falmouth, no person thought of taking a journey from York to London without first making his will, and then taking a solemn farewell of his family and friends. Even in so short a distance as from London to Oxford, so late as 1730, the coaches performed the fifty-six miles in two days, during winter, and in one day, reckoning it from twelve to fourteen hours, during the summer months; a distance now easily accomplished in six, or, at most, seven hours. We must, however, leave Mr. Freeling to enjoy the credit of these improvements, since we are entirely indebted to the Post-office and his good management there for the change that has taken place; a change (notwithstanding its long and daily enjoyment makes us insensible of the advantage) as remarkable as any, even the most important, invention of these latter days, and which has rendered us, in this particular, the envy and admiration of the world.


Or this little, sweet, and enthusiastic poem, we have no wish to give a regular account; indeed no very regular account can be rendered of a work recording the various feelings, and duties, and meditations of a single day, and which aspires after no particular regularity of narrative, or strict continuity of action. To a lover of silent or animated nature to one to whom the sabbath comes, not alone as a release from the dust and sweat of weekly toil, but as a time for purer aspirations and chastened thought, and the meek and mild austerities of devotion, these verses .will be very welcome. We know not that they display great originality of thought, or contain much of that. rapt and inspired fervour which sheds such a charm over the contemplative poetry of Wordsworth. The following passage affords a good specimen of the mannered beauty which distinguishes our author's style:

There is an isle by balmy breezes blest, A green gem in the ocean of the west, Where first the spring unfolds the mountain flower,

And summer lingers longest in the bower;
Bright ocean-lakes the favour'd shores sur-

Waving in sun-light like a zone unbound;
Stretching afar among romantic hills,
Till to the charmed eye they seem like rills;
Groves of unsullied verdure fringe the land,
Whose branches cast their shadows on the

Or are within the liquid mirror scen,
In forms more lovely and a softer green.
Smooth as the summer sea the valley lies,
The little hills like summer billows rise,
Succeeding still in gentle interchange,
Amid the garden, or the woodland range;
Till nature seems the work of matchless art,
And art like nature steals upon the heart.

(P. 10.)

This writer's lines have more of the gentleness and meekness of James Grahame, than of any other of the worthies of sacred verse. There is more softness than strength,-more to move the heart to sober and staid gladness, than to warm and elevate it. The outward and inward man of a presbyterian assembly is reflected with great truth, and with no incon

siderable share of the grace and charms of poesy.

To say that the poem is the image of a Scottish sabbath day, will present a complete idea of it to many of our readers; these lines are characteristic:

That morn the Isle with expectation

Its people pours from valley and from

The tartan'd maidens, link'd in rosy wreath,
Glitter like sunbeams from the mountain

There the fair infant group, a mother's pride,

Collect the wild flowers by the pathway

Or gathering round her, arm in arm en-
By her attracted, in her radiance shine.
In straggling bands the aged men appear,
Like venerable Patriarchs in the rear,
Robed in the mountain plaid, and bonnet
And, to the customs of their country true,

Strong in the Scriptures, though in humble

Unletter'd Sages-by the evangile wise;
Men who, by toil, a scanty pittance earn,
Yet mitred heads from their discourse might


The little barges on the billows ride,
A navy of fair spirits on the tide ;
Like milk-white doves, on outstretch'd
wings they sail

Peace with her olive in the canvass beams,
With a smooth motion, in the gentle gale;
Hope leads the way, and in a rainbow

While glistening through the trees the
sunny spire,

Is the bright beacon of each bark's desire. (P. 15, 16.)

mind, who prefer the matter to the To those of a strict contemplative manner, and to whom religion alone, without any external accompaniments, is ever dearest, we perhaps poem by saying, that its scene is laid are not enhancing the beauty of the one of the little lovely lake isles of in a region of romantic beauty,-in Scotland. But the peasantry of the north will like it not the less. Much as they are averse to the intrusion of sculptural or architectural beauty upon their devotions, they are lovers

* A Sabbath among the Mountains, a Poem in two Parts, 2d Edition. Edinb. 1823.

of the works of God's hand, and fond of worshipping him among their own green mountains and amid the open air. They are a thoughtful and poetical people, and lovers of Milton, and Thomson, and Jeremy Taylor, and Burns; and though they call not in the aid of instruments of music to assist them in their devotions, and are content to spend the sabbath in a very humble tabernacle, yet when they dream of paradise, they dream of a green hill and a spreading vale, a waving wood and a running stream-a dream of their native land. They may recognise its features (and also the poetical ones of a certain illustrious Scotch Minstrel) in our author's concluding


Dear to my spirit, Scotland, hast thou been,

Since infant years in all thy glens of green;
Land of my love, where every sound and

Comes in soft melody, or melts in light;
Land of the green wood by the silver rill,
The heather and the daisy of the hill,
The guardian thistle to thy foemen stern,
The wild-rose, hawthorn, and the lady-fern;

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The foot of slave thy heather never stain'd, Nor rocks that battlement thy sons profaned;


Unrivall'd land of science and of arts,
Land of fair faces and of faithful hearts;
Land where Religion paves her heavenward
Land of the temple of the living God!
Yet dear to feeling, Scotland, as thou art,
Should thou that glorious temple e'er desert,
I would disclaim thee, seek the distant shore
Of Christian isle, and thence return no
more. (P. 44, 45.)

To them, therefore, the Sabbath among the Mountains will be welcome: we wish we could be as certain of its being acceptable to the peasantry of England.



Do I yet press ye, O rushes?-though the light
From yonder orient point bursts in full dawn?
Daughter of mists! fair morning, thou dost blush
To find me yet unrisen. Lift up thy veil,
Lift up thy dewy veil, Goddess of Prime!
And smile with all thy luxury of light.
Breathe me a kiss, an earthly lover's kiss,
Such as thou gavest the hunter-boy; and pour
The perfume of thy sighs around my bed.
This is the hour for Rhapsody. Arise!
Thou slumbering son of Song, and mount the hill.
A light thin mist hangs o'er the tumbling sea,
Hiding some grand commotion. Look! oh, look!
The reddening, foaming, thundering ocean swells,
With its up-springing birth. Wind, burst the cloud,
That the dread King of Glory may look forth!
He comes! he comes! the purple-flowing waves
Spread him a gorgeous carpet. Hail, O Sun!
Thou who dost shower thy golden benefits,
More liberal than all earth's mightiest kings!
Thou who dost fling exuberant wealth around,
And of thy rich profusion prodigal,
Scatterest superfluous bounty o'er the world!
O, thou ascending wonder! thou great type
Of thy still greater cause! thou symbol-star
Of intellectual brightness infinite!

How does the eye of rapture flow with joy
As the hills brighten, and the valleys dim
Tinge their dark verdure with thy matin ray!
My soul expands, like thy magnificence,
As I behold thee rise. This is the time,
When the heart pants with over-teeming life,
To range the blooming lawns. The dewy glade,
The tender-vested slope, the mossy bank,
The rushy-bosom'd dell, are now the haunt
Of the fond Rhapsodist. The foot of ecstasy,
The light, wing'd foot of ecstasy, springs o'er,
Nor crushes the half-waken'd flowers; they think
It but the passing sigh of morn that bows them,
Sweeping the woodland with its soft sweet wing.
Gems of my meek ambition! let me catch
The lustre of your radiance fresh with dew.
Waken, O rose! O fragrant-breasted rose !
Thou ever-blushing maiden of the field!

Are thy love dreams so sweet, thou fear'st to wake?
Ah! thou young shrewd one! thou dost keep thy breast.
Close for yon travelling bee, whose sylvan hum
Taketh thine amorous ear.

Thou smilest-ay

But blush still deeper as you smile. Farewell!
O, thou lone blue-bell! sleeping in thy nook
Under the cliff, sleeping the morn away!
Look from thine eyrie, darling of the rock!
Look at thy sister-bud, the mountain-queen,
Turning her little treasure to the sun,

Glistening and gay with dew: Hast thou no charms
In that sweet breast, that pale-blue breast of thine?
Ope thee, fine floweret. Delicate girl of the bank!
Pale primrose, where art thou? Just wakening!
Thine eye half-closed, and thy all-beauteous head
Still drooping on thy bosom: O, look up!
The waning moon her crystal light retires,
And the red blazonry of morn begins.
The laughing plains, the yellow-coated hills,
The flashing torrent, and the sun-bright lake,

The plumy forest fluttering all in sheen,

Lie like a landscape wash'd with swimming gold.
Thou that believest, unprofitably wise,

This but the waking vision of my soul,

This but the Rhapsodist's bewilder'd dream,

View thou the morning-dawn,-and doubt no more.


LIFE has its wintry time ere sullen Age

Has scatter'd o'er our heads his cheerless snows,
And man begins to wish for calm repose,

And sighs to end his weary pilgrimage,

Long-long before his spring-time years have fled;
With spirits broken-prospects wither'd-left
Like some green valley of its verdure reft

By sudden blight, in desolation-dead.
For sorrow's cloud will dim youth's brightest ray,
And change its summer hopes to bleak despair,
And strip the tree of young ambition bare,
And coldly waste the bloom of heart away.
Tempests scowl round where quiet late has been
And joy, the swallow, flies life's wintry scene.

V. D.

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