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nothing particular had happened, was « Murder !" cried Mr Pearie, astoDawson busy making entries.
“ it's no just sae bad as that " Dawson,” said Charles, “no time is either, though Tam Jaffrey, the bell. to be lost. Follow me into the house." man, says that the town-clerk tauld
Mr Dawson folded up his books and him it amounted to hamesucken and papers, and did as he was told.
robbery-principally on account of Mary was no little amazed to see the breeks ; for ye see they were the Charles, thus accompanied, enter her Captain's ain breeks, and a pair o' his breakfast parlour.
auld boots too." “ What's the matter?" she exclaim- - What is all this about?" enquired ed, “ has any thing happened ?" Mary, who had gazed from one person
“ Yes,” said Charles, “ murder has to the other, amazed at the conversahappened ! have you heard the bell- tion.
“ Just a frolic, Mary, o' Dawson an' “No-who? what is it? oh tell me." me," said Mr Pearie_“ Ye see that
“ Dawson can tell you best!-out lang-neckit Indian, afore going awa', with it, sir,-it is no secret to me!- had had the vanity to hae his statue I saw you last night by moonlight." done by the folk at the Wax-works,
“ Me, sir?-de'il a bit o' me will and had furnished it with bis auld tell ony thing without the order o'my claes. Noo, I saw clear enough that principal.”
his plan was to leave this statue wi' “ Then I will," continued Charles. you, Mary, as a parting keepsake; an “ You will see your admirer, Captain as I didna wish to hae ony thing o' Slasher, no more.
the kind, Dawson an' me just gaed “ I know it,” replied Mary, “ Mr doun last night, clamb into the upPearie has told me so.'
stairs window, and got haud o' the “ It was Mr Pearie, aided by the wax figure. We didna ken hoo to diabolical ruffian at my side, who got get quit o't, so we tied a wheen stanes quit of him.”
round it, an' threw it bodily into the “I know that too,” said Mary; “I water opposite the Dene-walks-and think they managed it very well.” Charles, ye see, refuses to tak' the
Charles Patieson reeled as if thun- blame o't, tho' I've tauld him ye're derstruck, and fell into a chair. willing to reward him."
But farther disclosures were inter- Charles Patieson, at this explanation, rupted by the entrance of Mr Pearie. started up. “ What! refuse? Who
" Ah! Dawson ?"_he exclaimed- said I refused? My dear sir,,I will “ this is a foolish business—they're confess this moment." draggin' the water--they'll find the “ An' marry Mary Peat?" body to a certainty.”
Our chronicle gives no account of - There ! there!" cried Charles. “I what Charles's answer was. But, we told you so, Mary!"
believe, a very short time saw every “ Unless we get some body to tak’thing satisfactorily arranged - and the wyte o't, it'll ruin our reputation; the spotless reputation of the “ heed some young chap-it wadna harmo' the hoose” preserved from the scan. the like o' a laddie o'twa or three an' dal of so frolicsome an achievement, twenty-Charlie, will you just save by the self-devotion of the younger Dawson an' me frae disgrace, and tak' partner. The church bells thunderthe blame o't on yersel ?"
ing forth their best, “ one morning " Who! I, sir?"
very early, one morning in the " Wha else? Was it na for your spring," gave notice to all whom it sake it was done ? Wasna it to get ye might concern, that the banking estathe hand (ye've gotten the heart al. blishment lately carried on under the ready I jalouse), o' Mary Peat there, names of Pearie, Peat, and Patieson, that Dawson and me did it?"
was now conducted under the names Charles looked at Mary, and Mary's of Pearie and Patieson only. In the silence and blushes confirmed Mr course of a few years it was finally Pearie's statement.
dissolved. Mr Pearie retired from “ No, sir,” he replied at last, " not business, and now resides at the Depe even for that. Mary herself would —his old premises bearing, in new gilt recoil. from a person accused of mure letters above the door — " Branch der.”
Bank. Hours of business from 10 till 4."
OUR WOULD-BE RECTOR.
Among those serious and vexatious Radical. The poor Duke asked for an affairs the public have had a little re- increase of his pension, that pension laxation in laughing at the misfor- being, on the whole, equal to the antunes of his Royal Highness the Duke nual interest of half a million of of Sussex. This Royal Duke has been money ; his only discoverable plea notorious for many years as a Whig being that he would extremely like to “ and something more," as a liberal of have more money than during his the most vociferous kind. Nature sixty years of drowsy existence he had having given the Royal Duke no ta- ever possessed. No one in the House lents whatever, he could not, like some was cruel enough to ask what he had of his betters, abuse them, and his prin. done for all that he had got from the ciples having been taught by Whigs, nation already. The royal patriot the character of those principles may and petitioner never having held any be left for the amusement of the public. office, never rendered any service,
But during his whole life the topics never been heard of in any human of his oratory were the abomination shape of any possible exertion for the of living upon the public,-his own public behoof. The case was so dehuge pension, we presume, being the cisive, that, prodigal as the House was, reward of intended services, he never the petition slept on the table. The having rendered any in the sixty years result was lamentable; the Royal of his being. His Royal Highness Dake gave up the Presidentship of the was in perpetual agonies at the idea Royal Society, to which his prodigious of pensions and places, of titles con. discoveries among the stars, or possibly ferred without cause, of royal extrava. his investigation of the philosopher's gance, and Ministerial corruption. stone, doubtless entitled him ; wrote a The friend of the patriotic party who lacrymose letter to the Fellows, which sang and swore that self-denial, public was intended to rouse the very inseneconomy, and personal disinterested- sible feelings of the public, and, declarness had taken refuge among them ing that he was unable to support the exalone, could do no less than flourish penses of this formidable elevation, rehis commonplaces at taverns and tea- tired, covered with, we presume, glory. drinkings, and preach cheap living The men of science, it must be and liberty. All this was often looked owned, have not been altogether on with surprise, when it was remem- pleased with the reason, however they bered that his Royal Highness him. may have been with the result. They self was one of the most palpable cases did not choose to be regarded as havof sinecurism in the kingdom; and that ing eaten up a Royal Duke, as churchthe success of his doctrines would wardens were once said to devour a have driven him to the hopeless ne- child. Accordingly, some lively corcessity of earning his bread by the la- respondence has followed. bour of his brains or hands. Still his The point in question is the Royal Royal Highness harangued, and while Duke's inability to support the heavy there seemed no chance of his getting expenses of his Presidentship. This any thing from the Treasury he was is an unlucky confession to be thrown the most averse of any man living to among so many arithmeticians. They condescend to the national offence of have since been busy in the calculamaking any demand upon the finances tion how much it may have cost his of what he, as regularly as the tavern Royal Highness to give tea and cakes, bell rang, pronounced an impoverish- which were all that his Royal Highness ed, beggared, cruelly burthened, and ever gave. Some take the items of so forth, nation.
the tea, which they assert might be a But the hope of other things dawn- couple of pounds at five shillings each, ed.. He saw the Duchess of Kent, as on his soirees. And others distinctly her expenses decreased, getting an state, that those soirees, last year, augmentation to her income, and the amounted only to four, and allowing Duke, old as he was, thought that as for candles, sugar, cream, &c.—for to his merits were quite equal, so might these calculations the melancholy anhis luck. He accordingly made his nouncement of his Royal Highness's proposal, through the bowels of com- dilapidation have naturally driven passion of Mr Gillon, a young gentle- them—the amount might be, at the man who, in default of all other claims outside, about L.200 per annu on public attention, avows himself a which, deducted from his pu
allowance of L.18,000 a-year (with if not frugal, good taste ; and that, in other matters, amounting to L.21,000), the simplicity of their style, there was leaves only the small sum of L.20,800 nothing to contrast offensively with to meet the troubles of this world. the ordinary habits of the guests ; nor,
A sensible, and by no means an I should have thought, to increase in uncourteous letter, on this subject has any sensible degree the expenses of appeared, utterly denying that the ex
your establishment." penses of the Presidentship could be a All this will be extremely well reburden to any one with a tenth or a lished by the country, though we shall hundredth of the unhappy Royal not answer for the Royal Duke's equaDuke's income.
nimity on the occasion. The truth is, It says, “ I have been thirty years that all men are extremely glad when a Fellow of the Society, and have fre- pretexts and pretences exhibit them. quently had the honour of being elect- selves the things they are. Paying all ed of the Council. I have attended due respect to rank and royalty, we the evening parties of Sir J. Banks, have seen nothing in the conduct of Sir H. Davy, and Mr Gilbert. I this man, whether young or old, to have also attended, I believe, all the justify any kind of regret on the occa• soirees' at your Royal Highness's sion. A Whig prince, in the modern residence to which I was honoured sense of Whiggism, is an anomaly and with an invitation, and I think I may an absurdity. If Radicalism were say that these have not amounted to four triumphant for a week, it would strip altogether, and that, except your Royal every prince in the land of title, penHighness's frank and gracious reception sion, honours, and coat and breeches, of your guests, there was nothing to dis- and send them roving the earth like tinguish them from the evening parties the unfortunate French nobility. so frequent in London, in which a pri- But we warn the country that the vate gentleman gives tea, coffee, and experiment on the parliamentary risconversation to his literary friends." cera is to be repeated. The “ Date
It continues in the same quiet, but obolum Belisario" will not altogether perfectly intelligible style— I can answer in the instance of a petitioner only say that the meetings which I who“ of the division of a battle knows attended, though perhaps too few in no more than a spinster.” We recom. number, were conducted with plain, mend the following :
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose trembling legs have borne him to your door,
And humbly take his twenty thousand more.
A talking, trifling, brain-bewildered thing,
Who never served his country or his king.
A lavish pension, title, and a star ?
To hold his hand up at your worships' bar.
Per month, where Charity supplied the meal,
And now he lives, hard fare, upon his zeal.
(Dinners and suppers were beyond a prince),
He ne'er has known a smile, or sixpence since.
Sir Joseph's three-cocked hat, Sir Isaac's chair,
The spectre of the grocer's bill was there.
Whose trembling legs have borne him to your door,
And humbly take his twenty thousand more.
COLERidge's Christabel is the most ches of the tree, would seem to be doing exquisite of all his inspirations; and, the injustice of neglect to the elegance incomplete as it is, affects the imagi- of its foliage, and the microscopic nation more magically than any other perfection of every single leaf. Those poem concerning the preternatural. who now read it for the first time, will We are all the while in our own real scarcely be disposed to assent to so and living world, and in the heart of much praise ; but the man to whom it its best and most delightful affections. is familiar will remember how it has Yet trouble is brought among them grown to his own liking—how much from some region lying beyond our of melody, depth, nature, and inken, and we are alarmed by the sha- vention, he has found from time to dows of some strange calamity over- time hiding in some simple phrase hanging a life of beauty, piety, and or unobtrusive epithet.”
In no peace. We resign all our thoughts poem can “ every line be a picture ; and feelings to the power of the mys- and there is little or no meaning in tery — seek to enjoy rather than to what Mr Tupper says above about solve it—and desire that it may be the tree; but our wonder is, how, with not lengthened but prolonged, so his feeling of the beauty of Christabel, strong is the hold that superstitious he could have so blurred and marred Fear has of the human heart, entering it in his unfortunate sequel. it in the light of a startling beauty, excuse," he says, " for continuing the while Evil shows itself in a shape of fragment at all, will be found in Coleheaven; and in the shadows that Ge- ridge's own words to the preface of ñius throws over it, we know not whe. the 1816 pamphlet edition, where he ther we be looking at Sin or Inno- says, • I trust that I shall be able to cence, Guilt or Grief.
embody in verse the three parts yet Coleridge could not complete Chris- to come, in the course of the present tabel. The idea of the poem, no doubt, year'-a half-promise which, I need dwelt always in his imagination—but scarcely observe, has never been rethe poet knew that power was not gi- deemed.” Mr Tupper continues :- “ In ven him to robe it in words, The the following attempt I may be cenWritten rose up between him and the sured for rashness, or commended for Unwritten; and seeing that it was courage; of course, I am fully aware, “ beautiful exceedingly," his soul was that to take up the pen where Colesatisfied, and shunned the labour- RIDGE has laid it down, and that in the though a labour of love-of a new wildest and most original of his poems, creation.
is a most difficult, nay, dangerous proTherefore 'tis but a Fragment— ceeding ; but upon these very characand for the sake of all that is most teristics of difficulty and danger I wild and beautiful, let it remain so for humbly rely; trusting that, in all pro
But we are forgetting our- per consideration for the boldness of selves; as many people as choose may the experiment, if I be adjudged to publish what they call continuations fail, the fall of Icarus may be broken ; and sequels of Christabel but not if I be accounted to succeed, the flight one of them all will be suffered to live. of Dædalus may apologize for his preIf beyond a month any one of them is sumption." Finally,” he says, " I observed struggling to protract its deem it due to myself to add, what I ricketty existence, it will assuredly be trust will not be turned against me, strangled, as we are about to strangle viz. that, if not written literally curMr Tupper's Geraldine.
rente calamo, GERALDINE has been Mr Tupper is a man of talent, and the pleasant labour of but a very few in his Preface writes, on the whole, ju- days. diciously of Christabel. “Every word Mr Tupper does not seem to know tells—every line is a picture : simple, that Christabel “was continued" many beautiful, and imaginative, it retains years ago, in a style that perplexed its hold upon the mind by so many the public and pleased even Coleridge. delicate feelers and touching points, The ingenious writer meant it for a that to outline harshly the main bran. mere jeu de sprit-but “ Geraldine"
is dead serious, and her father hopes These few words signify some unimaan immortal fame. We neither“ cen- ginable horror—and never did genius, sure him for rashness nor commend not even Shakspeare's, so give to one him for courage,” but are surprised at of its creations, by dim revelation his impertinence, and pained by his mysteriously diffused, a fearful being stupidity—and the more for that he that all at once is present “beyond possesses powers that, within their the reaches of our souls"—something own proper province, may gain him fiendish in what is most fair, and blastreputation. We like him, and hope ing in what is most beautiful. to praise him some day-nay, purpose Powerful as Prospero was Coleto praise him this very day--therefore ridge ; but what kind of a wand is we shall punish him at present but waved by Mr Tupper? with forty stripes. He need not fear “ Thickly curls a poisonous smoke, a fall like that of Icarus, for his artifi- And terrible shapes with evil names cial wings have not lifted his body Are leaping around in a circle of flames, fairly off the ground and so far from And the tost air whirls, storm-driven, soaring through the sky like a Dæda. And the rent earth quakes, charm-riven,lus, he labours along the sod after the And-art thou not afraid ?" fashion of a Dodo. In the summer of
Previous to these apparitions, the 1797, Coleridge wrote the first part wolf has been hunting, the raven of Christabel—in 1800, the second- croaking, the owlscreeching, the clock and published them in 1816—so per- of course tolling twelve, fected, that his genius, in its happiest hours, feared to look its own poem in
" And to her cauldron hath hurried the the face, and left it for many long And aroused the deep bay of the mastiff
witch, years, and at last, without an altered
bitch ;” or an added word, to the delight of all
The ages. Mr Tupper's “Geraldine has moon is gibbous, and looks been the pleasant labour of a very few
“ like an eye-ball of sorrow," and yet days !"-(Loud cries of Oh! oh! is called "sun of the night,"—most oh!)
perversely-and oh! how unlike the Mr Tupper in the Third Canto
sure inspiration of Coleridge! While, shows us the Lady Geraldine beneath with the " Sun of the Night" shining, the oak—the scene of the Witch's first Geraldine is absurdly said to bemeeting with Christabel. You remem- “ Fair truant-like an angel of light, ber the lines in Coleridge-and more Hiding from heaven in dark midnight." vividly these
One touch of the Poet's would have “ There she sees a damsel bright, shown the scene in all the power of Drest in a silken robe of white,
midnight, by such an accumulation of That standing in the moonlight shone :
ineffective and contradictory imagery The neck that made the white robe wan,
thus utterly destroyed. S. T.C. made Her stately neck and arms were bare ;
the Witch dreadful— M. F. T. makes Her blue-veined feet unsandelled were,
All dauntless stands the maid
And still with flashing eyes
She dares the sorrowful skies,
And to the moon, like one possest, And you remember how Christabel,
Hath shown- dread! that face so fair after that
Should smile above so shrunk a breast, “ Her gentle limbs did she undress,
Haggard and brown, as hangeth thereAnd lay down in her loveliness,
O evil sight !-wrinkled and old,
The dug of a witch, and clammy cold, On her elbow did recline
Where in warm beauty's rarest mould To look at the Lady Geraldine."
Is fashioned all the rest." And how, when the Witch unbound her cincture,
“ Muttering wildly through her set teeth, “ Her silken robe and inner vest
She seeketh and stirreth the demons beDropt to her feet, and full in view,
neath." Behold! her bosom and half her side, Why-were not already “ terrible A sight to dream of, not to tell !
shapes with evil names leaping around O shield her! shield sweet Christabel!". a circle of flames?" But