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a sentence, when-death to my hopes! the kind would be attributed to an exan unlucky cock crew. The two forms cess, the bare imputation of which I gradually sunk away from my sight, haveever avoided with the greatest care. and in a few moments I found myself Şilence was my only alternative, but alone in the shop

my mind dwelt incessantly upon the Never did Micyllus bestow a more conversation, and when I next met my hearty execration upon poor Chanti- old-school friend, he at once remarked cleer's ill-timed note, than escaped my how much my tone was altered. In lips when I found the cup, as it were, fact, my sentiments had undergone a snatched away, when my thirst was at its change. I considered that I had taken height, and the draught prepared. To too forward a part in a controversy with be tantalized with such honour

(for I felt one, whose dicta had every right to be satisfied we should be praised) from such oracular, and that probably my haste a fountain, and to be thus disappointed and petulance had prevented me from was, in the present state of my nerves, gathering many a grain of “gold dust" almost intolerable. I darted forth into that might otherwise have been obthe first struggle of dawn, and strode tained. I fancied at times that I saw home to my house in street, where his shade re-enter, like that of Sterne's I threw myself upon my bed without the Monk, and upbraid me for my prepower of one collected thought upon sumption, I reflected upon the surthe events that had occurred. I fell prising temper with which he-the into a disturbed and broken sleep, and most overbearing and irritable of men when the morning sun awoke me, it had received my arrogant opposiwas some time before I could persuade tion, and how little grateful I had myself that the whole affair had not shewn myself for it. In short, the more been a dream. The moment I felt con I called his arguments and apothegms vinced of its reality, I set out with to mind, the more weight did they fasting impatience to the scene of my carry with them. I felt that he must last night's adventure. There I paced be unprejudiced; I knew that he was up and down, poking in every where, competent to judge, and I blamed myin my anxiety to recognize the little self for not having acknowledged a conblack counter and the ricketty shelves descension, which took pains to remove that were so vividly impressed on my prejudice and implant taste. memory. It was in vain. I enquired After much cogitation, feeling as infrom mopping maids and unshuttering capable of retaining my secret as the apprentices, but without success. The Old Maid in Mr. Banim's story, I shop was not to be found. I addressed have come to the determination of submyself to one of the second-hand mitting it to you, in the hope of your Magliabechis of the region, who was inserting the whole story in your "Maburnishing the last remains of legibility gazine, so that I may be able to feel from the plate on his own door, and the public pulse on the subject, without put as many questions to him with res- exposing myself personally to the sneers pect to the existence of a place such as or obloquy of my friends, and trusting I described, in the neighbourhood, or to the obscurity of a fictitious name for of the visits of old gentlemen of strange misinterpreting the cause of my blushes, manner and garb, as were consistent when I hear Advena laughed at as a with exemption from ridicule or suspi- dreaming enthusiast, who should nail cion. All' to no purpose. I returned down the windows of his bed-room, home to swallow my breakfast, sit alone, and take care of his digestive organs. and muse on these things. I was afraid to make a single confi

I remain, &c. &c. dant, for I knew how readily a story of

ADVENA.

FAMILIAR EPISTLES FROM LONDON.-No. II.

TO MRS. HONORÍA O'BRIEN,

MY DEAR AUNT,

that with the luxurious enjoyments of In spite of the state of politics and the season," which I have above enuof trade, at which

merated, he who hath not good store

of money in his purse, can expect to People now rail who never railed before, have but little to do, except (if he lack And those who always railed now rail the more,

experience and wisdom,) to envy their London does, at this present writing, possession by others shine forth in all the beauty and gran

a For to the world no hagbear is so great deur and fashion of the "full season.

As want of figare, and a small estate." 1* They say that on the average of the year, about three thousand strangers Even beauty (alas ! that I should say come into London every day, and a it,) turns away its smile, number considerably less in the aggregate, but only a very little less in each

"Scared at the spectre of pale porerty: day's account, leaves it. At this season, however, the influx must be pro- And as for consideration in any other digious, for nine-tenths of the regular quarter, political, literary, scientific, ur visitors of London who come for plea- philanthropic, he who has not wealth sure merely, come here I think in the of his own, or the means of getting it month of May, when the opera has its from or for others, must be very inexbest singers and dancers ; and concerts perienced, or an idiot, who expects it. abound, morning and evening, and all But, notwithstanding all this, a man the shops have their most splendid with a sound mind in a sound body, “spring assortments," and the carriages with enough to eat and drink, though of the nobility and gentry block up turtle and champaigne be strangers to Bond-street on the week days, and the his palate, and with some leisure to straight road called “ The Ring,” in move about, and see, and bear, and enHyde-park, on Sunday afternoons joy, what may be seen, heard, and en when every thing that enormous wealth joyed for nothing, would still do well and luxurious habits, unceasing toil, un- to visit London at this very season, rivalled skill, and the matured spring which, although it be summer by the and delicious sunny weather, can af- almanacs, is in our metropolitan roca ford to delight those who have the means bulary denominated “spring." For of enjoying them, are brought together now, instead of scowling skies, and and poured forth abundantly.

dirty streets, through which the poor It is a common-place saying—“ how pedestrian wends his way with draggled can people think of going to London great coat clashing about his legs, anel just when the country becomes so de- wearisome umbrella held overhead, lightful—they ought rather to think of every now and then encountering ano leaving London for the country.” No ther, and getting smack into his face a such thing, my dear Aunt, I assure you. little shower from tbe concussion-inI have lived in this great metropolis at stead of this, he may go forth even as all seasons, and I must aver upon my he sits at home, save the addition of own experience, that so far at all events hat and gloves, with a clear sky above as a “West end” residence is concern- him, and clean dry footing underneath, ed, this is the “properest” time of all and though he will find the watering the year

for enjoying London. It is carts manufacturing gutter where they true that the god of the London world were intended only to lay the dust, yet is wealth, to which even rank and he will console himself with the sight fashion, and amusing talent, are but of the gushing water which is genesubordinate deities; and it is very true, rally clear before it falls, and with the

sensation of coolness which the wet- fringed with drooping willows. The ness affords. But, better than this — walks are arranged so as to pass, here instead of desolate, comfortless-look- and there, under the shade of the old ing ponds, and squares, and gardens, trees of the park, and in one place I with their black leafless branches, or have observed that the old branches poor stunted evergreens, he cannot now meet across the walk, so as to form, at walk quarter of a mile, without com a little distance, the appearance of a ing upon the view of trees and shrubs, perfect gothic arch, to which the penand flowers, waving in the pride of dant leaves seem a festooned drapery. Spring beauty, for, ever within the pre- From almost all parts of the interior of cincts of the town, leaves and blos- this park, are seen shooting up beyond soms are beautiful ; and to those who the trees, and the red-tiled roofs that can feel their beauty, will continually one catches glimpses of through the suggest pleasant thoughts. It is an

It is an trees, the exquisitely beautiful towers of excellent thing in London, that squares white stone, built by Sir Christopher and other open spaces so much abound, Wren, at the western extremity of and it is pleasant to see the care which Westminster Abbey. I don't know is generally taken of them, and to find whether you remember these, but there a shrub or a tree even in places where is absolutely something almost touchyou would scarcely expect to meeting in their quiet faultless beauty, as with them.

they stand before you, lifting up their I thank heaven, it is not in the pow- exquisite proportions towards the blue er of Whigs or radical Reformers, to sky; sometimes only partially visible, overthrow, or to alter the course which and sometimes, strikingly and fully apGod has appointed for the seasons and parent above the line of the leafy the things that be subject thereunto. - tree-tops. The “ Mall and the “ Bird The lilacs and laburnums will put forth Cage Walk," although much altered, their flowers, and the sycamore and are still in their general effect, such as ash, and elm, their leaves, even as you must remember them, with their they did in the “unenlightened” times long rows of elms which are now in of our ancestors, and thus much, if the first freshness of their young green nothing else, we may be sure will be leav and which look particularly left to us.

beautiful contrasted with the stems I have no doubt, that a Whig com and branches, that town smoke has mittee if they undertook the consider- made completely black. The leaves, ation of these matters, would discover I grieve to say, will soon feel the same that they were ill-arranged, and requir- influence, and then woe to the inexed a Reform ; but, bappily, the power perienced wight who takes refuge is pot theirs, nor can be acquired by from a pelting shower beneath their the fraud of the few acting upon the branches, for each leaf, as it is struck by violence of the many ; so we shall still a heavy drop, flings out a little sprinhave trees and flowers, no matter what kle of 'soot in its rebound, and this demadness possesses our rulers, or what scending with the drop that had disfolly governs the voice of the populace. turbed it, daubs, with most inhospitaIf, indeed, the Crown lands which in- ble smuts, the shelteree beneath. But clude our beautiful and healthful Parks, even six weeks of London atmosphere, be seized by the public and sold to the though it does much to spoil the dayhighest bidder, in order that taxes may light freshness of those trees, does not be reduced, I shall tremble for my now prevent them from being very beautipleasant walks ; but, in the mean time, ful in a moonlight night. How strange I shall try to enjoy them, as I have a and (to me) affecting, is the sudden good right to do, for they are things to contrast, when, in half a minute's walk be enjoyed by a Londoner in May. from paved Pall Mall, with its many

You must remember St. James's people and its noise of carriages, you Park, though you have not seen it, with get into this park with a serf of leafy its interior, so beautifully laid out as it branches above your head, and the pale is now, with elumps of shrubbery, and moonlight struggling through. a fine piece of water so skilfully arrang But St. James's is the lowest (I ed, that at various points the eye gives mean nearest the earth's centre) of all no information of its limited extentthe Parks, and so far, the least agreeas it winds out of sight, round points able. To describe Hyde Park, would

Vol. I.

4 z

require a complete letter for itself; crowds and gaudy dresses make all with a postcript, nearly as long as the places alike, but on week days, in the letter, devoted to Kensington Gar- morning or forepoon, or towards dens. Hyde Park is, indeed, a noble evening, when you may have kesexpanse; and the breeze sweeps down sington Gardens, with their long walks, into it “fresh and strong," as long as and quiet seats, and deep shade, allelo a breeze is to be had any where for yourself

. When you may sit, with love or money; and with its galloping nothing to disturb the general silence horsemen and ladies, and gay equi- but the singing of birds, and reflect pages, the Park is full of images of that within a mile or two is the mighty life and activity. How striking, here living, moving mass of London—the too, is the contrast, when you pass greatest of cities--the most astoundthrough the little door in the wall, ing aggregation that the world ever which divides this Park from Kensing- saw of all that is mightiest in wealth. ton Gardens : How instantaneously, and power and grandeur of all that you feel to have passed from the region is most hideous and humiliating in vice of air and exercise, to that of close and misery, and crime! Here may you shade and extreme tranquillity. I sit in meditation, or with your boob, speak not of company days, when and say to yourself

“ Here wiselom calls, Seek virtue first, be bold;
As gold to silver, virtue is to gold.'
There London's voice, Get money-money still
And then let virtue follow-if she will."

But I must not omit to tell you of calculated to intoxicate a man of obthe “ Regent's Park,” also, the beauty servation and sensibility, the rather if and grandeur of which have grown he be a leetle intoxicated beforehand into existence since you were a so- with claret. I do not, however, mean journer in London, and knew the situa- to recommend this preparation for a tion as certain fields, called Maryle- proper appreciation of beauty in sight bone Park. The position of this beau- or sound, to any gentleman, and much tiful place, with the rising grounds of less, lady of our acquaintance; and inHampstead and High-gate, forming a indeed, I must beg, in this particular charming view beyond it, is the most to be understood as speaking from favourable of all the London pleasure other experience than my own. What grounds. To a taste not very fasti- I have been describing, is all very pleadious about purity of architectural de- sant when one is in the humour to be sign or indignant at more outside show pleased, but it all depends upon that ; than in-door stability, this neighbour- and to me, the whole effect has somehood must seem beautiful beyond times been lost by exhibitions of pupcompare. The noble terraces of su- pyism which I could not stomach-perb houses, with porticos, pillars, and fellows who seemed manufactured by pilastres, (most of them built of old their tailor's-creatures brick and covered with stucco in imita

« like Apes, tation of stone), the gardens and flow

With foreheads villainous low." ering shrubs, with large trees in the distance, the sheet of water, and the talking loud nonsense, and poisoning shaven lawn, with groups of beautiful the pleasant evening air with tobacco children disporting thereupon, and smoke, the odour of which offendeth sheep, (which you need not remember me :--this and other the like nuisances, are to be made mutton of next morn- will sometimes, nay oftentimes, come ing); all this is, I assure you, very de- between the solitary felicity-hunter licious ; and, in the evening, when and his enjoyment of the evening in lamps are lighted in all directions, and the Regent's Park. reflected from the water in a thousand But after this long discourse on points of dancing light--when a band Parks, you will perhaps ery outor two is playing, and groups of beauti " what are they all, to our Park

the ful women are taking there after-dinner Phænix Park, of Parks the Phenix !" lounge about the grounds, there is Nothing, absolutely nothing, I admit a something in the matter very much as regards extent and natural beauty.

The variety of hill and dale-of thick bave watched the sun set behind the wood and deep ravine,--and above all, hill of Castleknock, which seemed all

the delightful view, as you look to on fire, and have gazed upon the rich

wards and beyond the Liffey, in the masses of " piled clouds" while their • Park drive, from Island-Bridge gate, streaks of fiery gold slowly faded into

to Chapelizod, are such things as darkness. Never since, have I seen we Londoners have no idea of ; yet, to anything more beautiful ; and I have the quiet rich citizen's eye, your Park often wished that such scenes were might appear too huge and rugged for a celebrated as they deserve to be. Now pleasure ground, and he might prefer the that Dublin has got a Magazine of its more contracted spot upon which art own, which is read far and near, I hope has lavished all its power of exquisite that the subject of Dublin localities ornament, and placed it within the will not be forgotten, and that I may compass of a single view—the limit of recognise in poetry or poetic prose, one little walk. I do not think, how- the "whereabout" of my youth, of which -ever, that the people of Dublin are I feel so much more than I can de. as sensible as they ought to be to the scribe. wondrous advantages of situation which But, it is ours-ours here in Lontheir city enjoys, or if they are, they don, to enjoy the gorgeous splendour, do not take the pains they ought to ce and the finished cellence of art.

lebrate them. No one can have read I shall not speak of our noble collec...many books and periodicals of the tions of paintings—of those by the

day, without learning something about ancient masters, some of them the London localities ; and the beauties of finest in the world, which may be seen Edinburgh (I do not mean the “lasses every day, and all day, in Pall Mall,

O !") have been said and sung in thou- for nothing; or of the galleries of sands of ways and places, with a fer- modern pictures, to which one may obvour of national pride regarding their tain admittance for a shilling. I am “ own romantic town," which does no artist, and cannot describe these the Scotch much credit ; yet I ques- things ; but, I must say something of tion very much whether Edinburgh, our Italian Opera, however inadequate although more striking and picturesque I may be, to write about it, as one within the immediate limits of the more gifted with musical science might. town, can boast any thing like such This huge and splendid theatre, has beautiful scenery in its near neighbour- been well filled, since this month comhood, as Dublin can. The memory of menced, and has well deserved to be these scenes is not so distinct in my so, for I do not remember to have mind as it once was ; but I still think seen before, such an assemblage of of a drive which I took, a long time first rate singers. At present, we have ago, on a beautiful summer's morning, as principal female singers, Pasta, shortly after sunrise, to a commanding Cinti Damoreau, and De Meric; and point of view, called “ Mount Anvil,” we are still better off, in male singers, or some such smith-like name, and Rubini, Tamburini, Donzelli, and Zu

from thence beheld a view, so glorious- challi. There are not four such "- ly beautiful, of sea and land—of far- singers as these, in all the world be

stretching bay, and rugged “ promon- sides, nor is there upon the face of the - tory”—of rich cultivated land, and dis- earth, such another operatic performer tant mountain, and leafy wood-all as Pasta. Rubini, has an ugly, angry 'bathed in the gladsome light of the countenance, which gives the stranger morning sun-Ah! I shall not see its little reason to hope for the exquisite like again, or if I do, not with such delicacy of voice, and soft brilliancy of feelings—not with the freshness of execution, with which he sings. His young imagination, revelling in the style is florid--full of ornament, but beautiful, and thinking of nothing else. ornament in which there is no labourI remember too, the rich solemn beau- ing, no appearance of difficulty. His ty of the quiet summer evenings, when falsetto, which he uses continually, from that noble avenue of elms--that scarcely seems a falsetto, so clear, and succession of beautiful terraces, formed sweet, and delicate, yet, so well articuby the banks of the broad canal from lated, that even in the remotest part of the bridge on the great western road, that vast theatre, not a note is lost. down to the Saint James's Reservoir ; I In the execution of his complicated

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