The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 402, Supplementary Number (1829)

"Your loving brother,

"AMBROSE MAWE.

"P.S. Since writing the above, you will be concerned to hear the body of poor Diggory has been found, horribly mangled by wild beasts. The fate of Chippendale, Gregory, and Mudge is no longer doubtful. The old lion has brought the lioness, and, the sheep being all gone, they have made a joint attack upon the bullock-house. The Mudiboo has overflowed, and Squampash Flatts are a swamp. I have just discovered that the monkeys are my own rascals, that I brought out from England. We are coming back as fast as we can."

EMIGRATION:

Meeting a Settler.

THE CUTS

A clear stage, and no favour: a coach and horses on their sides, with all the passengers' heels uppermost, in a horse-pond.—The air adapted to a Violin: a fellow flying a kite-fiddle in a field.—"Those Evening Bells:" a postman and muffin-man.—Shrimp Sauce to a Lobster: a little urchin putting out his tongue at a Foot Guard.—"Toe-ho:" a sportsman caught in a spring-trap.—Boarded, Lodged, and Done for: a wight in the pillory, and a shower of brick-bats, dead cats, &c.—"A Constable's Miscellany:" a crowd of offenders, preceded by the man in office, staff-in-hand.—Unlicensed Victuallers: a couple of greyhounds seizing a dinner. "She walks in beauty, like the night:" a black girl, shaded by a broad leaf.—Boxer and Pincher: a pair of dogs taking snuff together.—A Round Robin: a red-breast in the shape of a ball.– Hook and Eye: a parrot on a perch.—A Leading Article: a jockey a-head in a race.—A Sweepstakes—"Every jockey has a jenny:" sweeps on donkeys.—Soap-orifics and Sud-orifics: two busy washerwomen.—A Court Day: a crowd sheltered from the rain, beneath "Poppin's Court." These are but a few of the eighty-seven drolleries of the cuts and plates, which have more fun and humour than all the pantomime tricks and changes of our time; they are worth all the fine conceits of all the great painters of any age, and the pun and patter which accompany them are excellent. We give one of the tail-pieces:

Breaking up—no Holiday.

EMMANUEL

This little work is "decidedly of a religious character," and, to quote the preface, "its contents are in unison with the sanctity of its title." The editor is the Rev. W. Shepherd, the author of Clouds and Sunshine; and we quote an extract from one of his contributions: its gravities will blend with the gaieties of our sheet. The passage occurs in "Holy Associations:"—

"But there are other feelings besides those of mortality which are closely connected with a churchyard. Whilst from the ashes of the dead comes forth a voice which solemnly proclaims, 'The end of all things is at hand,' there arises also to the well-regulated mind a scene of still greater interest—one more in unison with the soul. There is a kind of indescribable sympathy, which, like the sentiment of the prophet of Judah, prompts us to wish that our bones may lie by the side of our brethren in the sepulchre. This feeling is part of our nature, and belongs to that universal link which connects and binds man to man, and continues the chain till lost in the essence of divinity....

"What, indeed! can mark a greater alienation of the soul from its original nature, than the infidelity which chooses for the bed of the grave spots unhallowed by religious associations. They who deny their God, and cavil at his Word, can have no reverence for places which, like his houses of prayer and the consecrated receptacles of the dead, derive all their sanctity and influence from a belief in his mercies, and a sense of our demerits—hence, having banished themselves from their Father's house, they are content to 'lie down in the grave like the beasts that perish.' Whilst, on the contrary, the simply virtuous, the sincerely religious, the soberly pious, without attaching any value as to the future destination of the soul, to the spot in which its earthly sister may crumble to its kindred dust, cherish the pleasing hope that their mortal bodies may repose in those places alone which religion hallows. They long not for pleasure grottos or druidical coppices, in which to be gathered to their fathers, but dwelling with chastened hope on the glories of the resurrection, they desire their mortal particles may be found when the Lord cometh to complete his victory over the grave, in the spot, and contiguous to the house 'in which he has chosen to place his name there.'

"From the same fountain of ethereal purity, deduced through this genuine principle of amiability, is derived that love of country which makes his Alps and Avalanches dear to the Swiss, and suggested that beautiful image to the Mantuan muse, of the Grecian soldier remembering in the last struggles of death his pleasant Argos. It is this which makes us revert, with ever verdant freshness, to our homes and native places, and binds us to the land of our birth with adamantine links. From the burning desarts of sunny Africa—from the wild tornados of the gusty West—from the mountains of ice piled by a thousand ages, like impassable barriers round each frozen pole—from the fertile plains and trackless forests of Australia, frequently rises, like a breeze of sweetest incense, the fond remembrance of our native land; which, even in bosoms scathed by storm and pilgrimage, causes to spring up, like a sudden fountain in a barren waste, the gushing images of the scenes of home, and all their prime deliciousness."

There are seventy-five pieces in prose and verse, narrative and descriptive.—The price and pretensions would not allow costly engravings; and, with the exception of a beautiful architectural frontispiece, by Mr. Britton, F.S.A. the embellishments are but meagre. This plate is accompanied by a brief paper on Christian Architecture, at the close of which Mr. Britton says, "The frontispiece has been composed from the architectural members of the west front of York Minster; and it shows that the monastic artist who designed that magnificent facade, gave to it a decided, unequivocal Christian character."

THE BIJOU

Is very properly entitled "An Annual of Literature and the Arts," since considerably more attention seems to have been paid to the Illustrations than to their accompaniments. Few of the prose or verse pieces present much novelty of matter or manner; but the following will, perhaps, be esteemed a curiosity:—

PORTRAIT OF UGO FOSCOLO

(From the Italian,) by Himself

 
A furrow'd brow, intent and deep sunk eyes,
Fair hair, lean cheeks, are mine, and aspect bold;
The proud quick lip, where seldom smiles arise,
Bent head and fine form'd neck, breast rough and cold,
Limbs well compos'd; simple in dress, yet choice:
Swift or to move, act, think, or thoughts unfold;
Temperate, firm, kind, unus'd to flattering lies,
Adverse to th' world, adverse to me of old.
Oftimes alone and mournful. Evermore
Most pensive—all unmov'd by hope or fear:
By shame made timid, and by anger brave—
My subtle reason speaks; but, ah! I rave,
'Twixt vice and virtue, hardly know to steer
Death may for me have FAME and rest in store.
 

There is an abundance of Sonnets and short pieces which would dovetail in our columns, were we tempted by their merit to extract them; but, in place of enumerating them, we notice the Engravings, some of which are excellent specimens of art. Among these is a Portrait of THE KING, by Ensom, from a painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence, in the collection of Sir William Knighton, Bart. Next is Ada, a Portrait of a Young Lady, delicately engraved by T.A. Dean, after Sir Thomas Lawrence. The print is about the size of a crown-piece, a perfect gem—a bijou in itself. The African Daughter, by Sangster, from a picture by Bonington, abounds with vigorous and effective touches; some of the lights are extremely brilliant. Next is the Portrait of Mrs. Arbuthnot, by W. Ensom, from the President's picture, full of grace and life, and richly meriting the term exquisite: nothing can be finer than the dark luxuriant hair contrasted with the alabaster delicacy and elegance of the features; the eyes too beam with benignant expressiveness. Wilkie's Bag-Piper has been powerfully engraved by Aug. Fox; and a Portrait of Lady Jane Grey, after De Heere, is an interesting variety. Milton composing Paradise Lost, from a drawing by Stothard, is far from our taste; but the Blue Bell, by Fox, from a picture by W.A. Hastings, somewhat atones for the previous failure: its prettiness is of the first class.

Our notice has extended to all the Engravings except one—Rosalind and Celia—about which, the less said the better. There are, perhaps, too many portraits in the collection, but taken apart, they are among the first-rate productions of their class.