Obrazy na stronie

the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this had been ill all the voyage, and had excited the sympathy rover of the deep! How has expectation darkened into of every one on board. When the weather was fine, his anxiety-anxiety into dread—and dread into despair! messmates had spread a mattress for him on deck in the Alas! not one memento shall ever return for love to shade, but of late his illness had so increased, that he had cherish. All that shall ever be known is that she sailed taken to his hammock, and had only breathed a wish that from her port, “and was never heard of more."

he might see his wife before he died. The sight of the wreck, as usual, gave rise to many He had been helped on deck as we came up the river, dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the and was now leaning against the shrouds, with a counteevening, when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, nance so wasted, so pale, and so ghastly, that it is no began to look wild and threatening, and gave indications wonder the eye of affection did not recognise him. But at of one of those sudden storms that will sometimes break the sound of his voice her eye darted on his features, it in upon the serenity of a summer voyage. As we sat read at once the whole volume of sorrow; she clasped her around the dull light of a lamp, in the cabin, that made hands, uttered a faint shriek, and stood wringing them in the gloom more ghastly, every one had his tale of ship- silent agony. wreck and disaster. I was particularly struck with a short All was now hurry and bustle. The meeting of acone related by the captain.

quaintances—the greeting of friends—the consultations of “ As I was once sailing,” said he,“ in a fine stout ship, men of business. I alone was solitary and idle. I had no across the banks of Newfoundland, one of the heavy fogs friend to meet, no cheering to receive. I stepped upon the that prevail in those parts rendered it impossible for me to land of my forefathers—but felt that I was a stranger in see far ahead, even in the daytime; but at night the that land. -WASHINGTON IRVING. weather was so thick, that we could not distinguish any object at twice the length of our ship. I kept lights at the mast-head, and a constant watch forward to look out

THE CURFEW. for fishing-smacks, which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. The wind was blowing a smacking breeze,

Oft on a plat of rising ground and we were going at a great rate through the water.

1 hear the far-off Curfew sound Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of a sail ahead !' but

Over some wide-watered shore, it was scarcely uttered till we were upon her. She was a

Swinging slow with sullen roar.-Milton. small schooner at anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew were all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a

The word Curfew is derived from the Norman word, light. We struck just amid-ships. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel, bore her down below the waves; carrefou, or couvrefeu, and is now considered by us to we passed over her, and were hurried on our course.

mean the signal for extinguishing fires. Pasquier " As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had says it is derived from carfou, or garefou, as being a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches, rushing intended to advertise the people to secure themselves from her cabin ; they had just started from their cabins to from the robbers and revellers of the night. be swallowed, shrieking, by the waves. I heard their

The CURFEW Bell is commonly, though I think drowning cry mingled with the wind. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all farther hearing. I shall erroneously, supposed to have been introduced in never forget that cry! It was some time before we could England by William the Conqueror. It is true, that put the ship about, she was under such headway. We one of his laws ordered all his subjects to extinguish returned, as nearly as we could guess, to the place where their fires and lights, and retire to rest, at eight the ship was anchored. We cruised about for several hours o'clock, at which hour the Curfew was appointed to in the dense fog. We fired several guns, and listened if be rung, but the regulation existed in the monasteries we might hear the hallo of any survivors; but all was silent-we never heard nor saw any thing of them more !" long before his time ; and although it was not, per

It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of haps, obligatory on the inhabitants of the adjoining "land" was given from the mast-head. I question whether villages, yet was highly conducive to the general Columbus, when he discovered the new world, felt a more safety, when the cottages were composed entirely of delicious throng of sensations than rush into an American's timber. Henry, in his History of Great Britain, says bosom when he first comes in sight of Europe. There is there is sufficient evidence that the same custom prea volume of associations in the very name. It is that land vailed in most parts of Europe at this period, and of promise, teeming with every thing of which his childhood has heard, or on which his studious years have

was intended as a precaution against fires, which pondered.

were then very frequent and very fatal, when so From that time until the period of our arrival it was many houses were built of wood; and Peshall, in his all feverish excitement. The ships of war that prowled History of the City of Oxford, affirms that the custom like guardian giants round the coast; the headlands of of ringing the bell

, at Carfax, every night at eight Ireland stretching out into the channel; the Welsh moun

o'clock (called Curfew Bell, or Cover-fire Bell), was tains towering into the clouds; all were objects of intense by order of King Alfred, the restorer of our Univerinterest. As we sailed up the Mersey, I reconnoitred the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt with delight sity, who ordained that all the inhabitants of Oxford on neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and green should, at the ringing of that bell, cover up their grass-plots. I saw the mouldering ruins of an abbey | fires and go to bed; which custom is observed to overrun with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church this day : and the bell as constantly rings at eight rising from the brow of a neighbouring hill-all were cha. as Great Tom tolls at nine. In order to reconcile racteristic of England.

these accounts of Henry and Peshall with the asserThe tide and wind were so favourable, that the ship was enabled to come at once at the pier. It was thronged with

tions set forth by most other writers, of its intropeople; some idle lookers-on, others eager expectants of duction by the Norman conqueror, we may, I think, some friends or relatives. I could distinguish the mer- be justified in supposing that the custom existed in chant to whom the ship belonged. I knew him by his England prior to his reign, but that, under the loose calculating brow and restless air. His hands were thrust and careless sway of the Saxon monarchs, it had into his pockets; he was whistling thoughtfully, and walk

fallen gradually into disuse, and was eagerly revived ing to and fro, a small space having been accorded to him by the crowd, in deference to his temporary importance. by William, as a means of securing his usurpation, There were repeated cheerings and salutations inter- by enervating the habits of the people, and of supchanged between the shore and the ship, as friends hap- pressing all attempts at domestic rebellion, by prepened to recognise each other.

venting any nightly meetings of the disaffected. But I particularly noted one young woman, of humble Of the causes which led to the establishment of a dress but interesting demeanor. She was leaning forward from among the crowd, her eye hurried over the ship as it for certain, and the opinions of modern historians

custom at first sight so tyrannical, we know nothing neared the shore, to catch some wished-for countenance. She seemed disappointed and agitated, when I heard a

differ widely with regard to them. Some affirm that faint voice call her name. It was from a poor sailor who the Conqueror, regarding his British subjects with a

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jealous eye, and his dominion in this country as by relieving them from some of the grievous burdens
no means secure, naturally laid upon them such imposed by his father.
restrictions as would most tend to lower their pride It is generally imagined, though we think without
and degrade that noble activity of mind and body sufficient reason, that the punishment, in case of
which might be productive of formidable opposition disobedience against this law, was no less than death.
to the safety of his throne: this view is suggested by We are inclined to suppose, however, that even in
Polydore Vergil, who, upon this subject, writes, “ In those days of unjust laws and severe exaction, the
order that he might convert the native ferocity of the life of a human being was not sacrificed for trans-
people into indolence and sloth, he deprived them of gressing a mere matter of police, where no actual
their arms, and ordained that each head of a family moral offence was committed, either against God or
should retire to rest about eight o'clock in the even- man. - There is no instance on record which would
ing, having raked the ashes over his fire: and that for lead us to conclude that William ever enforced the
this purpose a sign should be made through every observance of this custom by so wanton a disregard
village, which is even now preserved, and called in of the life of a fellow creature, as stains the memory
the Norman Coverfeu."

of an equally celebrated man, upon an occasion of Others, again, regard it as a mark of infamy, and similar disobedience. Though not immediately conas a proof of the slavery in which William held the nected with our subject, we cannot refrain from conquered English. The poet, Thomson, seems to relating the circumstance. The severe Frederick, have adopted this opinion, when he wrote

king of Prussia, intending to make an important The shivering wretches, at the Curfew sound, movement during the night, gave orders that by Dejected, sunk into their sordid beds,

eight o'clock all the lights in the camp should be And through the mournful gloom of ancient times put out, on pain of death. The moment that the Mused sad, or dreamt of better.

time was past, he walked out to see whether his That it was not a badge of infamy, is, however, evi

orders were obeyed. He found a light in the tent dent, from the fact, that the law was of equal obliga- of a Captain Zeitern, which he entered just as the tion upon the Norman nobles of the court and upon

officer was folding up a letter. Zeitern knew him, the Saxon peasantry. The same argument might and instantly fell on his knees to entreat his mercy. be adduced to show that it cannot justly be consi- The king asked to whom he had been writing: he said dered as a mark of slavery, since the high-spirited it was a letter to his wife, whom he tenderly loved, and and chivalrous nobility which accompanied William that he had retained the candle for a few minutes in his expedition against Britain, each of whom was

beyond the time, to finish it. The king ordered him but too ready to exalt his own pretensions to equality to rise, and write one line more, which he should if not to superiority over their brave and adventurous dictate. This line was to inform his wife, without but illegitimate leader, would have felt but little any explanation, that by such an hour the next day inclination to submit to any encroachment upon

he would be a dead man. The letter was then sealed their hours of pleasure, or any derogation from the and despatched, as it had been intended, and the next uncorrupted spirit of freedom of a knight of Nor- day the officer was executed. mandy. In further proof that this custom cannot justly be considered as evidence of an unworthy state of subjection, is the fact, that the obligation to extinguish fires and lights at a certain hour was imposed upon his subjects by David the First, king of Scotland, in his Leges Burgorum, and in this case no one ever imagined that it conveyed any sign of infamy or servitude. Voltaire, in his Universal History, ridicules the notion of its being a badge of degradation. “The law," he says, “far from being tyrannical, was only an ancient police, established in almost all the towns of the north, and which had been long preserved in the convents.” He adds this reason for it, “That the houses were all built of wood, and the fear of fire was one of the most important objects of general police."

This is, perhaps, the most rational and satisfactory mode of accounting for the institution of a practice

Annexed is a representation of the instrument so singular; for the fearful devastation made by fire formerly used for the purpose of extinguishing fires,

R. H. F. in great towns, at that period, is well authenticated. and from thence called a Curfew. Moscow generally suffered severely at least once in twenty years; and Fitzstephen says, that “the only History makes us some amends for the shortness of life. pests of London are the immoderate potations of fools,

-SKELTON. and the continual fires," Alas! that while the progress of the arts and civilization has secured us in The greatest friend of truth is time, her greatest enemy a great measure from the latter, the spread of religious is prejudice, and her constant companion is humility.-information, and the better knowledge of our christian duties, should have conduced so little to the diminu- CARDINAL Pool was once told of one, who was very tion of the former.

curious in keeping of his beard, and that the trimming of The custom of ringing the eight o'clock, or Curfew, it cost him two ducats every month; “ If so," said Pool, bell, is still kept up, or was till lately, in many towns

“his beard will shortly be more worth than his head."

CAMDEN's Remains. in England, though the obligation it was intended to enforce, viz., the extinguishing the fires, &c., and the

LONDON: pains and penalties consequent upon the transgression JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND. of the law, were abolished in the year 1110, by Henry PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY NUMBERS, PRICE ONE PENNY, AND IN MONTHLY PARTE the First, who wished to conciliate his subjects, by

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The Tunny-fishery was attended to with great care The common Tunny (Thynnus vulgaris,) is a large by the ancients, and still employs a vast number of fish belonging to the mackerel tribe: although but hands in different parts of the Mediterranean, chiefly little known in England, it is an object of considerable in Catalonia, Provence, Liguria, Sardinia, and, as we importance to many of the nations bordering on the have already mentioned, Sicily. Mediterranean; to none more so, perhaps, than the

The Tunnies are taken in two ways. In the first Sicilians. The engraving at the head of this article case, when a sentinel, posted on an elevated spot, represents one of the various methods of taking this has made a signal that the fish are in view, and has fish, employed by that nation; it is called the fishery pointed out the quarter from which they are coming, à la Thonnaire. The Tunnies, like the mackerei, a number of boats put to sea under the command of appear in great shoals, or banks, which are believed a leader, and arrange themselves in a curve, and to enter the Mediterranean at the beginning of April, joining their nets form an enclosure, which alarms for the purpose of depositing their spawn; but it is the Tunnies, and gradually drives them into closer very likely, that instead of coming from any great ranks: they still continue to add fresh nets, condistance, they merely rise from the deeper parts of tinually driving the fish towards the shore. that sea, in order to reach the shoal water, that the they have reached water only a few fathoms in depth, spawn, or ova, may be placed within the influence of they cast their last and largest net, which has a kind the sun's rays. The appearance of the mackerel is of pocket or long bag attached to it; this they draw said to indicate the approach of the Tunnies, these towards the land, and with it they bring all the fish. last being voracidus fish, and devouring great quan- The small ones are then taken out with the hands, tities of their smaller brethren.

and the larger are landed after they are despatched with boat-hooks. This mode of fishing, which is employed on the coast of Languedoc, produces sometimes at a single take as much as fifteen ton weight of fish.

The second mode is that represented in the engraving with nets, called by the Italians tonnaro. These are much more complicated; Brydone calls the whole apparatus a kind of aquatic castle, constructed at great cost,-a double row of large long nets, supported in an upright position by means of corks fastened to their upper edge, and by lead

weights and stones at the lower, are fixed by anchors THE COMMON TUNNY.

in such a manner as to form an enclosure parallel to At the time when these fish make their periodical the shore for many hundred fathoms, sometimes an appearance, the strongest and the boldest precede Italian mile in length, and divided into many chamtheir companions at distances determined by their bers by transverse nets, and open on the land-side greater vigour or courage. The form assumed by a by a sort of door c. The Tunnies; who always swim shoal of Tunnies, is that of a long triangle, the weaker fish bringing up the rear. The approach of

B this living mass is perceived at a considerable distance, from the noise which accompanies their rapid movements, for the tail of the Tunny is large and powerful, and striking forcibly and rapidly against the water, produces a sound which can be heard at a great way off. “This murmuring noise, which is heard from afar, is echoed from rock to rock, and repeated from shore to shore, resembling that dull but imposing sound, which during a deceitful calm on a burning summer's day, announces the approach of a hurricane."

close to the shore, pass between it and the line of In spite, however, of their number, their strength, nets. Arrived at the end of this, they meet with a and their swiftness, a sudden noise will often arrest large net stretched across, which closes the passage, the whole shoal in the middle of their course, or and obliges them to enter the tonnaro by the openings even the unexpected appearance of any bright object. which are practicable; when they have once entered If we may believe the reasoning of Pliny, the Roman they are driven onward in various ways from chamnaturalist, who speaking of the Tunny, says, “ in the ber to chamber, till they reach the last, which has spring, the Tunnies pass in troops, composed of been named the chamber of death. A horizontal numerous individuals, from the Mediterranean into net here forms a kind of platform, which a great the Euxine or the Black Sea, and in the strait which number of sailors, who have asembled in their boats, separates Europe from Asia, a rock of dazzling raise up in such a manner as to lift up the fishes at whiteness, and of great elevation, rises near Chalce the same time nearly to the surface. It is now that the dony, on the Asiatic shore; and the sudden appear- action commences, and blows are dealt in all direcance of this rock, terrifies the Tunnies to such an tions with boat-hooks, and weapons of that descripextent, as to force them to alter their course, and tion; the spectacle becomes quite imposing, and suddenly turn towards the Cape of Byzantium, attracts a great number of spectators, and it forms opposite the Chalcedonian shore; and this forced at the same time one of the principal amusements of direction of the course of these fish, causes the the rich Sicilians, and one of the chief branches of fishery to be very abundant near the Cape of Byzan- the commerce of the island. tium.” The usual size of this fish is from two to As the Tunnies enter the nets in great numbers, three feet in length; they are at times, however, the first endeavour of the fishermen is to drive them taken as long as ten feet. Aristotle mentions an old through the openings D D D of the chambers 1 2 3, Tunny which weighed upwards of two hundred till the chamber 1 is sufficiently full of fish; the weight.



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opening to this chamber at d is then closed, by a net acting like a door, and the fish confined; in this manner the chambers 2 and 3, and afterwards 4 and 5, are filled. The opening at c is then also closed, and the doors separating the different chambers being lifted, the fish are driven as before noticed into B, the chamber of death, which is surrounded by the boats of the fishermen.

The flesh of the Tunny, when uncooked, bears a close resemblance to beef. “ You would scarcely believe,” says Cetti, “ the different tastes of the various parts of the Tunny; at each part of the body, and at various depths from the surface, it varies; here it is like veal, there pork. The Sardinian fishermen employ a host of words, which the memory can scarcely retain, to distinguish these different morsels. The flesh of the belly, which is the most delicious, is called sorra, and costs twice as much as the netta, which is flesh of the second quality.” Like all the Mackerel tribes, the Tunny remains fresh and good for a few hours only after it is taken; if the least tainted it is not only unwholesome, but even a dangerous kind of food.

For what is food given? To enable us to carry on the necessary business of life, and that our support may be such as our work requires. This is the use of food. Man eats and drinks that he may work, therefore, the idle man forfeits his right to his daily bread; and the apostle lays down a rule both just and natural, that “if any man will not work, neither shall he eat:" but no sooner do we fall into abuse and excess, than we are sure to suffer for it in mind and in body, either with sickness, or ill temper, or vicious inclinations, or with all of them at once. Man is enabled to work by eating what is sufficient, he is hindered from working, and becomes heavy, idle, and stupid, if he take too much. As to the bodily distempers that are occasioned by excess, there is no end of them.--JONES of: Nayland.

And with his finger on the bounds of space
Marked out each planet's everlasting race.
How many thousand ages from thy birth

Thou slept'st in darkness, it were vain to ask ;
Till Egypt's sons upheaved thee from the earth,

And year by year pursued their patient task,
Till thou wert carved and decorated thus,
Worthy to be a king's sarcophagus.
What time Elijah to the skies ascended,

Or David reigned in holy Palestine,
Some ancient Theban monarch was extended

Beneath the lid of this emblazoned shrine,
And to that subterranean palace borne
Which toiling ages in the rock had worn.
Thebes from her hundred portals filled the plain

To see the car on which thou wert upheld
What funeral pomps extended in thy train !

What banners waved ! what mighty music swellid, As armies, priests, and crowds bewailed in chorus, Their King, their God, their Serapis, their Orus. Thus to thy second quarry did they trust

Thee, and the lord of all the nations round; Grim King of Silence! monarch of the dust !

Embalmed, anointed, jewelled, sceptred, crowned, There did he lie in state; cold, stiff, and stark,

A leathern Pharaoh, grinning in the dark. Thus ages rolled; but their dissolving breath

Could only blacken that imprison'd thing,
Which wore a ghastly royalty in death,

As if it struggled still to be a king :
And each revolving century, like the last,
Just dropp'd its dust upon thy lid—and passed.
The Persian conqueror o'er Egypt poured

His devastating lost,-a motley crew,
And steel-clad horsemen,-the barbarian horde,

Music and men of every sound and hue,-
Priests, archers, eunuchs, concubines, and brutes,
Gongs, trumpets, cymbals, dulcimers, and lutes.
Then did the fierce Cambyses tear away

The ponderous rock that seal'd the sacred tomb:
Then did the slowly-penetrating ray

Redeem thee from long centuries of gloom;
And lower'd torches flash'd against thy side,
As Asia's king thy blazon'd trophies eyed.
Pluck'd from his grave with sacrilegious taunt,

The features of the royal corpse they scann'd:
Dashing the diadem from his temples gaunt,

They tore the sceptre from his graspless hand, And on those fields where once his will was law Left him for winds to waste, and beasts to gnaw. Some pious Thebans, when the storm was past,

Upclosed the sepulchre with cunning skill ; And nature, aiding their devotion, cast

Over its entrance a concealing rill; Then thy third darkness came, and thou didst sleep Twenty-three centuries in silence deep. But he, from whom nor pyramid nor sphynx

Can hide its secrecies, Belzoni, came,
From the tomb's mouth unclosed the granite links--

Gave thee again to light, and life, and fame, -
And brought thee from the sands and deserts forth,
To charm the “pallid children of the north.”
Thou art in London, which, when thou wert new,

Was what Thebes is,-a wilderness and waste,
Where savage beasts more savage men pursue,

A scene by nature cursed, by man disgraced.
Now, 'tis the world's metropolis, the high
Queen of arms, learning, arts, and luxury.
Here, where I hold my hand, 'tis strange to think

What other hands, perchance, preceded mine :
Others have also stood beside thy brink

And vainly connd the moralizing line. Kings, sages, chiefs ! that touched this stone, like me, Where are ye now? Where all must shortly be. All is mutation : he within this stone

Was once the greatest monarch of the liour : His bones are dust,- his very name unknown.

Go, learn from him the vanity of power ! Seek not the frame's corruption to control, But build a lasting mansion for thy soul !

N. P. S.

CERTAIN it is, that no man ever repented that he rose from the table sober, healthful, and with his wits about him; but very many have repented that they sat so long, till their bellies swelled, their health, and their virtue, and their God is departed from them.-JEREMY TAYLOR.

IF I am regardless of sensual comforts and pleasures, if I am not greedy of dainties, if I sleep little, &c., the reason is, because I spend my time more delightfully, in things whose pleasure ends not in the moment of enjoyment, and that also make me hope for an everlasting reward. Besides, thou knowest that when a man sees that his affairs go ill, he is not generally very gay, and that on the contrary, they who think to succeed in their designs, whether in agriculture, traffic, or any other undertaking, are very contented in their minds. Now, dost thou believe, that from any thing whatsoever, there can proceed a satisfaction like that, of believing that we improve daily in virtue.-SOCRATES.

The following lines addressed to the Alabaster Sarcophagus,

supposed to be that of the King, called by Belzoni Psammuthis, but whose real name was Ousiree-Menepthah, mentioned in vol. iv., p. 154, of the Saturday Magazine, appeared in one of the public prints at the close of the year 1821. It may not be deemed an unworthy companion of the Lines to the Mummy, in page 72, and the Answer of the Mummy, in page 155, of our Fourth Volume.

Thou Alabaster relic! while I hold

My hand upon thy sculptured margin thrown, Let me recall the scenes thou couldst unfold,

Might'st thou relate the changes thou hast known; For thou wert primitive in thy formation, Launched from th' Almighty's hand at the creation. Yes-thou wert present when the stars and skies

And worlds unnumbered rolled into their places, When God from chaos bade the spheres arise,

And fixed the radiant sun upon its basis,

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