An Enlarged View ofThe Tee,The ornament surmounting the roof ofthe Burmese State Carriage.
An Enlarged View ofThe Tee,The ornament surmounting the roof ofthe Burmese State Carriage.
It was in August, 1824, that the expedition was placed under the command of lieutenant-colonel Miles, C. B., a distinguished officer in his majesty’s service. It comprised his majesty’s 89th regiment, 7th Madras infantry, some artillery, and other native troops, amounting in the whole to about one thousand men. The naval force, under the command of captain Hardy, consisted of the Teignmouth, Mercury, Thetis, Panang cruiser Jesse, with three gun boats, three Malay prows, and two row boats. The expedition sailed from Rangoon on the 26th of August, and proceeded up the Tavoy river, which is full of shoals and natural difficulties. On the 9th of September, Tavoy, a place of considerable strength, with ten thousand fighting men, and many mounted guns, surrendered to the expedition. The viceroy of the province, his son, and other persons of consequence, were among the prisoners, and colonel Miles states in his despatch, that, with the spoil, he took “a new state carriage for the king of Ava, with one elephant only.” This is the carriage now described. After subsequent successes the expedition returned to Rangoon, whither the carriage was also conveyed; from thence, it was forwarded to Calcutta, and there sold for the benefit of the captors. The purchaser, judging that it would prove an attractive object of curiosity in Europe, forwarded it to London, by the Cornwall, captain Brooks, and it was immediately conveyed to the Egyptian-hall for exhibition. It is not too much to say that itisa curiosity. A people emerging from the bosom of a remote region, wherein they had been concealed until captain Symes’s embassy, and struggling in full confidence against British tactics, must, in every point of view, be interesting subjects of inquiry. The Burmese state carriage, setting aside its attractions as a novelty, is a remarkable object for a contemplative eye.
Unlike Asiatics in general, the Burmese are a powerful, athletic, and intelligent men. They inhabit a fine country, rich in rivers and harbours. It unites the British possessions in India with the immense Chinese empire. By incessant encroachments on surrounding petty states, they have swallowed them up in one vast empire. Their jealousy, at the preponderance of our eastern power, has been manifested on many occasions. They aided the Mahratta confederacy; and if the promptness of the marquis of Hastings had not deprived them of their allies before they were prepared for action, a diversion would doubtless have then been made by them on our eastern frontier.
Burmah is the designation of an active and vigorous race, originally inhabiting the line of mountains, separating the great peninsula, stretching from the confines of Tartary to the Indian Ocean, and considered, by many, theGolden Chersonesusof the ancients. From their heights and native fastnesses, this people have successively fixed their yoke upon the entire peninsula of Aracan, and after seizing successively the separate states and kingdoms of Ava, Pegue, &c., have condensed their conquests into one powerful state, called the Burmah empire, from their own original name. This great Hindoo-Chinese country, has gone on extending itself on every possible occasion. They subdued Assam, a fertile province of such extent, as to include an area of sixty thousand square miles, inhabited by a warlike people who had stood many powerful contests with neighbouring states. On one occasion, Mohammed Shar, emperor of Hindostan, attempted to conquer Assam with one hundred thousand cavalry; the Assamese annihilated them. The subjugation of such a nation, and constant aggressions, have perfected the Burmese in every species of attack and defence: their stockade system, in a mountainous country, closely intersected with nullahs, or thick reedy jungles, sometimes thirty feet in height, has attained the highest perfection. Besides Aracan, they have conquered part of Siam, so that on all sides the Burmese territory appears to rest upon natural barriers, which might seem to prescribe limits to its progress, and ensure repose and security to its grandeur. Towards the east, immense deserts divide its boundaries from China; on the south, it has extended itself to the ocean; on the north, it rests upon the high mountains of Tartary, dividing it from Tibet; on the west, a great and almost impassable tract of jungle wood, marshes, and alluvial swamps of the great river Houghly, or the Ganges, has, till now, interposed boundaries between itself and the British possessions. Beyond this latter boundary and skirting of Assam is the district of Chittagong, the point whence originated the contest between the Burmese and the British.
The Burmese population is estimated at from seventeen to nineteen millions of people, lively, industrious, energetic, further advanced in civilization than most of the eastern nations, frank and candid, and destitute of that pusillanimity whichcharacterises the Hindoos, and of that revengeful malignity which is a leading trait in the Malay character. Some are even powerful logicians, and take delight in investigating new subjects, be they ever so abstruse. Their learning is confined to the male sex, and the boys are taught by the priests. Females are denied education, except in the higher classes. Their books are numerous, and written in a flowing and elegant style, and much ingenuity is manifested in the construction of their stories.
The monarch is arbitrary. He is the sole lord and proprietor of life and property in his dominions; his word is absolute law. Every male above a certain age is a soldier, the property of the sovereign, and liable to be called into service at any moment.
The country presents a rich and beautiful appearance, and, if cultivated, would be one of the finest in the world. Captain Cox says, “wherever I have landed, I have met with security and abundance, the houses and farmyards put me in mind of the habitations of our little farmers in England.”
There is a variety of other information concerning this extraordinary race, in the interesting memoir which may be obtained at the rooms in Piccadilly. These were formerly occupied by “Bullock’s Museum.” Mr. Bullock, however, retired to Mexico, to form a museum in that country for the instruction of its native population; and Mr. George Lackington purchased the premises in order to let such portions as individuals may require, from time to time, for purposes of exhibition, or as rooms for the display and sale of works in the fine arts, and other articles of refinement. Mr. Day’s “Exhibition of the Moses of the Vatican,” and other casts from Michael Angelo, with numerous subjects in sculpture and painting, of eminent talent, remains under the same roof with the Burmese carriage, to charm every eye that can be delighted by magnificent objects.
This term denotes thecomingof the Saviour. In ecclesiastical language it is the denomination of the four weeks preceding the celebration of his birthday. In the Romish church this season of preparation for Christmas is a time of penance and devotion. It consists of four weeks, or at least four Sundays, which commence from the Sundaynearestto St. Andrew’s day, whether before or after it: anciently it was kept as a rigorous fast.[396]
In the church of England it commences at the same period. In 1825, St. Andrew’s day being a fixed festival on the 30th of November, and happening on a Wednesday, thenearestSunday to it, being the 27th of November, was the first Sunday in Advent; in 1826, St. Andrew’s day happening on a Thursday, thenearestSunday to it is on the 3d of December, and, therefore, the first Sunday in Advent.
The literary character and high embellishment of the German almanacs, have occasioned an annual publication of beautifully printed works for presents at this season. TheAmulet, for 1826, is of this order. Its purpose is to blend religious instruction with literary amusement. Messrs. W. L. Bowles, Milman, Bowring, Montgomery, Bernard Barton, Conder, Clare, T. C. Croker, Dr. Anster, Mrs. Hofland, &c.; and, indeed, individuals of various denominations, are contributors of sixty original essays and poems to this elegant volume, which is embellished by highly finished engravings from designs by Martin, Westall, Brooke, and other painters of talent. Mr. Martin’s two subjects are engraved by himself in his own peculiarly effective manner. Hence, while theAmuletaims to inculcate the fitness of Christian precepts, and the beauty of the Christian character, it is a specimen of the progress of elegant literature and fine art.
TheAmuletcontains a descriptive poem, wherein the meaning of the wordadventis exemplified; it commences on thenext page.
The Rustic Funeral.A Poetical Sketch.By John Holland.’TwasChristmas—and the morning of that day,When holy men agree to celebrateThe gloriousadventof their common Lord,The Christ of God, the Saviour of mankind!I, as my wont, sped forth, at early dawn,To join in that triumphant natal hymn,By Christians offer’d in the house of prayer.Full of these thoughts, and musing of the theme,The high, the glorious theme of man’s redemption,As I pass’d onward through the village lane,My eye was greeted, and my mind was struck,By the approach of a strange cavalcade,—If cavalcade that might be called, which hereSix folks composed—the living and the dead.It was a rustic funeral, off betimesTo some remoter village. I have seenThe fair or sumptuous, yea, the gorgeous rites,The ceremonial, and the trappings proud,With which the rich man goeth to the dust;And I have seen the pauper’s coffin borneWith quick and hurried step, without a friendTo follow—one to stand on the grave’s brink,To weep, to sigh, to steal one last sad look,Then turn away for ever from the sight.But ne’er did pompous funeral of the proud,Nor pauper’s coffin unattended borne,Impress me like this picturesque array.Upright and tall, the coffin-bearer, firstRode, mounted on an old gray, shaggy ass;A cloak of black hung from his shoulders downAnd to the hinder fetlocks of the beastDepended, not unseemly: from his hatA long crape streamer did the old man wear,Which ever and anon play’d with the wind:The wind, too, frequently blew back his cloak,And then I saw the plain neat oaken coffin,Which held, perchance, a child of ten years old.Around the coffin, from beneath the lid,Appear’d the margin of a milk-white shroud,All cut, and crimp’d, and pounc’d with eyelet-holesAs well became the last, last earthly robeIn which maternal love its object sees.A couple follow’d, in whose looks I readThe recent traces of parental grief,Which grief and agony had written there.A junior train—a little boy and girl,Next follow’d, in habiliments of black;And yet with faces, which methought bespokeSomewhat of pride in being marshall’d thus,No less than decorous and demure respect.The train pass’d by: but onward as I sped,I could not raze the picture from my mind;Nor could I keep the unavailing wishThat I had own’d albeit but an hour,Thy gifted pencil, Stothard!—rather still,That mine had match’d thy more than graphic pen,Descriptive Wordsworth! This at least I claim,Feebly, full feebly to have sketch’d a scene,Which, ’midst a thousand recollections stor’dOf village sights, impress’d my pensive mindWith some emotions ne’er to be forgot.[397]
The Rustic Funeral.A Poetical Sketch.By John Holland.
’TwasChristmas—and the morning of that day,When holy men agree to celebrateThe gloriousadventof their common Lord,The Christ of God, the Saviour of mankind!I, as my wont, sped forth, at early dawn,To join in that triumphant natal hymn,By Christians offer’d in the house of prayer.Full of these thoughts, and musing of the theme,The high, the glorious theme of man’s redemption,As I pass’d onward through the village lane,My eye was greeted, and my mind was struck,By the approach of a strange cavalcade,—If cavalcade that might be called, which hereSix folks composed—the living and the dead.It was a rustic funeral, off betimesTo some remoter village. I have seenThe fair or sumptuous, yea, the gorgeous rites,The ceremonial, and the trappings proud,With which the rich man goeth to the dust;And I have seen the pauper’s coffin borneWith quick and hurried step, without a friendTo follow—one to stand on the grave’s brink,To weep, to sigh, to steal one last sad look,Then turn away for ever from the sight.But ne’er did pompous funeral of the proud,Nor pauper’s coffin unattended borne,Impress me like this picturesque array.Upright and tall, the coffin-bearer, firstRode, mounted on an old gray, shaggy ass;A cloak of black hung from his shoulders downAnd to the hinder fetlocks of the beastDepended, not unseemly: from his hatA long crape streamer did the old man wear,Which ever and anon play’d with the wind:The wind, too, frequently blew back his cloak,And then I saw the plain neat oaken coffin,Which held, perchance, a child of ten years old.Around the coffin, from beneath the lid,Appear’d the margin of a milk-white shroud,All cut, and crimp’d, and pounc’d with eyelet-holesAs well became the last, last earthly robeIn which maternal love its object sees.A couple follow’d, in whose looks I readThe recent traces of parental grief,Which grief and agony had written there.A junior train—a little boy and girl,Next follow’d, in habiliments of black;And yet with faces, which methought bespokeSomewhat of pride in being marshall’d thus,No less than decorous and demure respect.The train pass’d by: but onward as I sped,I could not raze the picture from my mind;Nor could I keep the unavailing wishThat I had own’d albeit but an hour,Thy gifted pencil, Stothard!—rather still,That mine had match’d thy more than graphic pen,Descriptive Wordsworth! This at least I claim,Feebly, full feebly to have sketch’d a scene,Which, ’midst a thousand recollections stor’dOf village sights, impress’d my pensive mindWith some emotions ne’er to be forgot.[397]
’TwasChristmas—and the morning of that day,When holy men agree to celebrateThe gloriousadventof their common Lord,The Christ of God, the Saviour of mankind!I, as my wont, sped forth, at early dawn,To join in that triumphant natal hymn,By Christians offer’d in the house of prayer.Full of these thoughts, and musing of the theme,The high, the glorious theme of man’s redemption,As I pass’d onward through the village lane,My eye was greeted, and my mind was struck,By the approach of a strange cavalcade,—If cavalcade that might be called, which hereSix folks composed—the living and the dead.It was a rustic funeral, off betimesTo some remoter village. I have seenThe fair or sumptuous, yea, the gorgeous rites,The ceremonial, and the trappings proud,With which the rich man goeth to the dust;And I have seen the pauper’s coffin borneWith quick and hurried step, without a friendTo follow—one to stand on the grave’s brink,To weep, to sigh, to steal one last sad look,Then turn away for ever from the sight.But ne’er did pompous funeral of the proud,Nor pauper’s coffin unattended borne,Impress me like this picturesque array.Upright and tall, the coffin-bearer, firstRode, mounted on an old gray, shaggy ass;A cloak of black hung from his shoulders downAnd to the hinder fetlocks of the beastDepended, not unseemly: from his hatA long crape streamer did the old man wear,Which ever and anon play’d with the wind:The wind, too, frequently blew back his cloak,And then I saw the plain neat oaken coffin,Which held, perchance, a child of ten years old.Around the coffin, from beneath the lid,Appear’d the margin of a milk-white shroud,All cut, and crimp’d, and pounc’d with eyelet-holesAs well became the last, last earthly robeIn which maternal love its object sees.A couple follow’d, in whose looks I readThe recent traces of parental grief,Which grief and agony had written there.A junior train—a little boy and girl,Next follow’d, in habiliments of black;And yet with faces, which methought bespokeSomewhat of pride in being marshall’d thus,No less than decorous and demure respect.The train pass’d by: but onward as I sped,I could not raze the picture from my mind;Nor could I keep the unavailing wishThat I had own’d albeit but an hour,Thy gifted pencil, Stothard!—rather still,That mine had match’d thy more than graphic pen,Descriptive Wordsworth! This at least I claim,Feebly, full feebly to have sketch’d a scene,Which, ’midst a thousand recollections stor’dOf village sights, impress’d my pensive mindWith some emotions ne’er to be forgot.[397]
Sheffield Park.
Variegated Stapelia.Stapelia variegata.Dedicated toSt. Stephen, the younger.
[395]The British Press.[396]Butler on the Fasts.[397]The Amulet.
[395]The British Press.
[396]Butler on the Fasts.
[397]The Amulet.
St. Saturninus, Bp.A. D.257.St. Radbod, Bp.A. D.918.
St. Saturninus, Bp.A. D.257.St. Radbod, Bp.A. D.918.
The Timesjournal of Tuesday, November the 29th, 1814, was the first newspaper printed by steam. To the editor of theEvery-Day Bookthe application of machinery, through this power, to the production of a newspaper seemed so pregnant with advantages to the world, that he purchasedThe Timesof that morning, within an hour of its appearance, “as a curiosity,” and here transcribes from it the words wherein it announced and described the mode by which its fitness for publication was on that day effected.
The Timesintroduces the subject, through its “leading article,” thus:—
“London, Tuesday, November 29, 1814.
“Our journal of this day presents to the public the practical result of the greatest improvement connected with printing, since the discovery of the art itself. The reader of this paragraph now holds in his hand, one of the many thousand impressions ofThe Timesnewspaper, which were taken off last night by a mechanical apparatus. A system of machinery almost organic has been devised and arranged, which, while it relieves the human frame of its most laborious efforts in printing, far exceeds all human powers in rapidity and despatch. That the magnitude of the invention may be justly appreciated by its effects, we shall inform the public, that after the letters are placed by the compositors, and enclosed in what is called the form, little more remains for man to do, than to attend upon, and watch this unconscious agent in its operations. The machine is then merely supplied with paper: itself places the form, inks it, adjusts the paper to the form newly inked, stamps the sheet, and gives it forth to the hands of the attendant, at the same time withdrawing the form for a fresh coat of ink, which itself again distributes, to meet the ensuing sheet now advancing for impression; and the whole of these complicated acts is performed with such a velocity and simultaneousness of movement, that no less than eleven hundred sheets are impressed in one hour.
“That the completion of an invention of this kind, not the effect of chance, but the result of mechanical combinations methodically arranged in the mind of the artist, should be attended with many obstructions and much delay, may be readily admitted. Our share in this event has, indeed, only been the application of the discovery, under an agreement with the Patentees, to our own particular business; yet few can conceive,—even with this limited interest,—the various disappointments and deep anxiety to which we have for a long course of time been subjected.
“Of the person who made this discovery we have but little to add. SirChristopher Wren’snoblest monument is to be found in the building which he erected; so is the best tribute of praise, which we are capable of offering to the inventor of the Printing Machine, comprised in the preceding description, which we have feebly sketched, of the powers and utility of his invention. It must suffice to say farther, that he is a Saxonby birth; that his name isKœnig; and that the invention has been executed under the direction of his friend and countrymanBauer.”
On the 3d of December, 1824,The Timescommences a series of remarks, entitled, “Invention of Printing by Steam,” by observing thus. “Ten years elapsed on the 29th of last month, since this journal appeared for the first time printed by a mechanical apparatus; and it has continued to be printed by the same method to the present day.” It speaks of consequent advantages to the public, from earlier publication, and better presswork, and says, “This journal is undoubtedly the first work ever printed by a mechanical apparatus: we attempted on its introduction to do justice to the claims of the inventor Mr. Kœnig, who some years afterwards returned to his native country, Germany, not benefited, we fear, up to the full extent of his merits, by his wonderful invention and his exertions in England.” In refuting some pretensions which infringed on Mr. Kœnig’s claim to consideration as the author of the invention,The Timesstates, that “before Mr. Kœnig left this country, he accomplished the last great improvement,—namely, the printing of the sheet on both sides. In consequence of successive improvements, suggested and planned by Mr. Kœnig the inventor, our machines now print 2,000 with more ease than 1,100 in their original state.” Hence, as in 1814, 1,100 is represented to have been the number then thrown off within the hour, it follows that the number now printed every hour is 2,000.The Timesadds, “we cannot close this account without giving our testimony not only to the enlightened mind and ardent spirit of Mr. Kœnig, but also to his strict honour and pure integrity. Our intercourse with him was constant, during the very critical and trying period when he was bringing his invention into practice at our office; so that we had no slight knowledge of his manners and character: and the consequence has been, sincere friendship and high regard for him ever since.”
Sphenogyne.Sphenogyne piliflora.Dedicated toSt. Saturninus.
St. Andrew, Apostle.St. Narses, Bp. andCompanions.Sts. SaporandIsaac. Bps.Mahanes,Abraham, andSimeon,A. D.339.
St. Andrew, Apostle.St. Narses, Bp. andCompanions.Sts. SaporandIsaac. Bps.Mahanes,Abraham, andSimeon,A. D.339.
This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. He was one of the apostles. It is affirmed that he was put to death in the year 69, at Patræ, in Achaia, by having been scourged, and then fastened with cords to a cross, in which position he remained “teaching and instructing the people all the time,” until his death, at the end of two days. It is the common opinion that the cross of St. Andrew was in the form of the letter X, styled a cross decussate, composed of two pieces of timber crossing each other obliquely in the middle. That such crosses were sometimes used is certain, yet no clear proofs are produced as to the form of St. Andrew’s cross. A part of what was said to have been this cross was carried to Brussels, by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, and Brabant, who in honour of it, instituted the knights of the golden fleece, who, for the badge of their order, wear a figure of this cross, called St. Andrew’s cross, or the cross of Burgundy. The Scots honour St. Andrew as principal patron of their country, and their historians tell us, that a certain abbot called Regulus, brought thither from Constantinople in 369, certain relics of this apostle, which he deposited in a church that he built in his honour, with a monastery called Abernethy, where now the city of St. Andrew stands. Many pilgrims resorted thither from foreign countries, and the Scottish monks of that place were the first who wereculdees. The Muscovites say, he preached among them, and claim him as the principal titular saint of their empire. Peter the Great instituted the first order of knighthood under his name. This is the order of the blue ribbon; the order of theredribbon, or of St. Alexander Newski, was instituted by his widow and successor to the throne, the empress Catherine.[398]
Naogeorgus, in the words of his translator Barnaby Googe, says,
To Andrew all the lovers andthe lustie wooers come,Beleeving through his ayde, andcertaine ceremonies done,(While as to him they presentes bring,and conjure all the night,)To have good lucke, and to obtainetheir chiefe and sweete delight.
To Andrew all the lovers andthe lustie wooers come,Beleeving through his ayde, andcertaine ceremonies done,(While as to him they presentes bring,and conjure all the night,)To have good lucke, and to obtainetheir chiefe and sweete delight.
To Andrew all the lovers andthe lustie wooers come,Beleeving through his ayde, andcertaine ceremonies done,(While as to him they presentes bring,and conjure all the night,)To have good lucke, and to obtainetheir chiefe and sweete delight.
In an account of the parish of Easling, in Kent, it is related that, “On St. Andrew’s day, November 30, there is yearly a diversion called squirrel-hunting in this and the neighbouring parishes, when the labourers and lower kind of people, assembling together, form a lawless rabble, and being accoutred with guns, poles, clubs, and other such weapons, spend the greatest part of the day in parading through the woods and grounds, with loud shoutings; and, under the pretence of demolishing the squirrels, some few of which they kill, they destroy numbers of hares, pheasants, partridges, and in short whatever comes in their way, breaking down the hedges, and doing much other mischief, and in the evening betaking themselves to the alehouses.”[399]
At Dudingston, distant from Edinburgh a little more than a mile, many opulent citizens resort in the summer months to solace themselves over one of the ancient homely dishes of Scotland, for which the place has been long celebrated, singed sheep’s heads boiled or baked. The frequent use of this solace in that village, is supposed to have arisen from the practice of slaughtering the sheep fed on the neighbouring hill for the market, removing the carcases to town, and leaving the head, &c. to be consumed in the place.[400]Brand adds, that “singed sheep’s heads are borne in the procession before the Scots in London, on St. Andrew’s day.”
There is a marvellous pleasant story in the “Golden Legend,” of a bishop that loved St. Andrew, and worshipped him above all other saints, and remembered him every day, and said prayers in honour of God and St. Andrew, insomuch that the devil spitefully determined to do him mischief. Wherefore, on a certain day, the devil transformed himself “in to the fourme of a ryght fayre woman,” and came to the bishop’s palace, and desired in that “fourme” to confess, as women do. When the bishop was informed of the message, he answered that she should go and confess herself to his “penytauncer,” who had power from him to hear confessions. Thereupon she sent the bishop word, that she would not reveal the secrets of her confession to any but himself; therefore the bishop commanded her to be brought to him. Whereupon, being in his presence, she told him, that her father was a mighty king, who had purposed to give her to a prince in marriage, but that having devoted herself to piety, she refused, and that her father had constrained her so much, that she must either have consented to his will, or suffered divers torments; wherefore she chose to live in exile, and had fled secretly away to the bishop, of whose holy life she had heard, and with whom she now prayed to live in secret contemplation, “and eschewe the evyll perylles of this present lyfe.” Then the bishop marvelled greatly, as well for the nobility of her descent, as for the beauty of her person, and said choose thee an house, “and I wyll that thou dyne with me this daye;” and she answered that evil suspicion might come thereof, and the splendour of his renown be thereby impaired. To this the bishop replied, that there would be many others present, therefore there could be no such suspicion. Then the devil dined with the bishop, who did not know him, but admired him as a fair lady, to whom therefore the bishop paid so much attention, that the devil perceived his advantage, and began to increase in beauty more and more; and more and more the bishop marvelled at the exceeding loveliness before him, and did homage thereto, and conceived greater affection than a bishop should. Then a pilgrim smote at the bishop’s gate, and though he knocked hard they would not open the door; then the pilgrim at the gate knocked louder, and the bishop grew less charitable and more polite, and asked the beautiful creature before him, whether it was her pleasure that the pilgrim should enter; and she desired that a question should be put to the pilgrim, which, if he could answer, he should be received, and if he could not, he should abide without as not worthy to come in. And the company assented thereto, and the bishop said, none of them were so able to propose the question as the lady, because in fair speaking and wisdom, she surpassed them all. Then she required thatit should be demanded of the pilgrim, which is the greatest marvel in the smallest space that ever God made? And then the bishop’s messenger propounded the question to the pilgrim, who answered that it was the diversity and excellence of the faces of men, because from the beginning of the world there are not two men whose faces “were lyke, and semblanle in all thynges:” and the company declared that this was a very good answer to the question. Then she said, that to prove the further knowledge of the pilgrim, he ought to be asked what thing of the earth is higher than all the heaven; and the pilgrim answered, the body of Jesus Christ, which is in the imperial heaven, is of earthly flesh, and is more high than all the heaven; and by this answer they were again surprised, and marvellously praised the pilgrim’s wisdom. Then she desired that a third question might be asked of the pilgrim, which if he could answer, then he would be worthy to be received at the bishop’s table; and by her order, the messenger demanded this question of the pilgrim, “What is the distance from the bottomless pit unto the imperial heaven?” and the pilgrim answered, “Go to him that sent thee to me, and ask the question ofhim, forhecan better answer it, because he measured this distance when he fell from heaven into the bottomless pit, andInever measured it:” and when the messenger heard this, he was sore afraid, and fearfully told the pilgrim’s message to the bishop and all the others, who when they heard the same, were also sore afraid. Then forthwith the devil vanished away from before their eyes; and the bishop repented, and sent the messenger to bring in the pilgrim, but he could not be found. So the bishop assembled the people and told them what had happened, and required them to pray that it might be revealed who this pilgrim was, that had delivered him from so great peril: and the same night it was revealed to the bishop, that it was St. Andrew who had put himself into the habit of a pilgrim for the bishop’s deliverance. “Than began the bisshop more and more to have devocyon and remembraunce of saynt Andrewe than he hadde tofore.”
Three-coloured Wood Sorrel.Oxalis tricolor.Dedicated toSt. Sapor.
The celebrated Belzoni died at the close of the year 1823, and at the same period of the year 1825, the newspapers contain advertisements and appeals, in behalf of his widow, to a British public, whose national character Belzoni has elevated, by introducing into England many splendid remains of ancient grandeur. The journals of another year will record whether these representations were sufficient to rouse national feeling to a sense of national honour, and the necessity of relieving a lady whose husband perished in an enterprise to enrich her country, by making it the deposit of his further discoveries. Belzoni had penetrated and examined distant regions, and after disclosing the results of his investigations, and all the curious monuments of art he collected on his travels, he left London for the deserts of Africa, where he fell while labouring towards Timbuctoo, for other specimens of human ingenuity, and endeavouring to explore and point out channels of enterprise to our manufacturers and merchants. It is from these classes especially that his fate claims commiseration; and from them, and the public in general, Mrs. Belzoni should derive aid. Removal of her embarrassment, is only a suspension of the misfortunes that await a bereaved female, if she is not afforded the means of future support. This is said by one who never saw her or her late husband, and who only volunteers the plain thoughts of a plain man, who knows the advantages which England derives from Belzoni’s ardour and perseverance, and is somewhat qualified, perhaps, to compassionate Mrs. Belzoni’s helplessness. During a season of festal enjoyment, when friends and neighbours “make wassail,” any individual of right feeling might thaw indifference into regard for her situation, and “make the widow’s heart sing for joy.”
Subscriptions are advertised to be received by the following bankers, Messrs. Coutts and Co; Esdaile and Co.; Goslings and Co.; Hammersley and Co.; Hopkinson and Co.; Hoare, Barnett, and Co.; Jones, Lloyd, and Co.; Masterman and Co.; Smith, Payne, and Co.; Snow and Paul; Willis, Percival, and Co.; Wright and Co.
[398]Butler.[399]Hasted’s Kent.[400]Sir J. Sinclair’s Statist. Acc. of Scotland.
[398]Butler.
[399]Hasted’s Kent.
[400]Sir J. Sinclair’s Statist. Acc. of Scotland.