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property still to dispose of, which, if well employed, will turn to good account. Not to mention the rest, there is one precious Sunday yet in her gifts ; it would cheer my last moments to know that this had been better prized than the past.
“ It is very likely that, at least after my decease, many may reflect upon themselves for their misconduct towards me. To such I would leave it as my dying injunction, not to waste time in unavailing regret; all their wishes and repentance will not recall me to life. I shall never, never return! I would rather earnestly recommend to their regard my youthful successor, whose appearance is shortly expected. I cannot hope to survive long enough to introduce him ; but I would fain hope that he will meet with a favourable reception; and that, in additon to the flattering honours which greeted my birth, and the fair promises which deceived my hopes, more diligent exertion, and more perserving efforts, may be expected. Let it be remembered, that one honest endeavour is worth ten fair promises.”
Having thus spoken, the Old Year fell back on his couch, nearly exhausted, and trembling so violently as to shake the last shower of yellow leaves from his canopy. Let us all hasten to testify our gratitude for his services, and repentance for the abuse of them, by improving the remaining days of his existence, and by remembering the solemn promises we made him in his youth.-HENDERSON.
A DAY IN LONDON.
In the morning all is calm-not a mouse stiming before ten o'clock, when the shops begin to open. Milk-women, with their pails, perfectly neat, suspended at the two extremities of a yoke, carefully shaped to fit the shoulders, and surrounded with small tin measures of cream, ring at every door with reiterated pulls, to hasten the house-servants, who come, halfasleep, to receive a measure as big as an egg, being the allowance of a family--for it is necessary to explain, that milk is not here food or drink, but a tincture; an elixir exhibited in drops, five or six at most, in a cup of tea, morning and evening. It would be difficult to say, what taste or what quality those drops may impart, but so it is, and nobody thinks of questioning the propriety of the custom. Not a single carriage, not a cart is seen passing. The first considerable stir is the drum and military music of the guards, marching from the barracks to Hyde Park, having at their head three or four negro giants, striking high, gracefully, and strony, the resounding cymbal. About three o'clock the fashionable world give some signs of life, issuing forth to pay visits, or rather leave cards at the door of friends never seen but in the crowds of assemblies—go to the shops see sights-or lounge in Bond-street, an ugly inconvenient street, the attractions of which are difficult to understand. At five or six they return home to dress for dinner; the streets are then lighted fr one end to the other, or rath edged on either side with two long lines of little bright dots, indicative of light, but yielding in fact very little these are the lamps; they are not suspended in the middle of the streets, as at Paris, but fixed on irons, eight or nine feet high, ranged along the houses :the want of- reflectors is probably the cause of their giving so little light. From six to eight the noise of wheels increases—it is the dinner hour. A multitude of carriages, with two eyes of flame staring in the dark before each of them, shake the pavement and the very houses, following and crossing each other at full speed ; stopping suddenly; a footman jumps-down, runs to the door, and lifts the heavy knocker-gives a great knock, then several small ones in quick succession-then, with all his might, flourishing as on a drum, with an art and an air, and a delicacy of touch, which denote the quality, the rank, and the fortune of his master.
For two hours, or nearly, there is a pause ; at ten a redoublement comes on. This is the great crisis of dress, of noise, and of rapidity-an universal hubbub; a sort of uniform grinding and shaking, like that experienced in a great mill with fifty pair of stones ; and if I was not afraid of appearing to exaggerate, I should say, that it came upon
the ear like the fall of Niagara, heard at two miles distance. This crisis continues undiminished till twelve or one o'clock, then less and less during the rest of the night-till, at the approach of day, a single carriage is heard now and then at a great distance.
Great assemblies are called routs or parties—but the people who give them, in their invitations, only say, that they will be at home such a day, and this some weeks beforehand. The house in which this takes place is frequently stripped from top to bottom-beds, drawers, and all but ornamental furniture, are carried out of sight, to make room for a crowd of well-dressed people, received at the door of the principal apartment by the mistress of the house, standing, who smiles at every new comer with a look of acquaintance. Nobody sits; there is no conversation, no cards, no music ; only elbowing, turning, and winding from room to room; then, at the end of a quarter of an hour, escaping to the hall door to wait for the carriage, spending more time upon the threshold among footman than you have. done above stairs with their masters. From this rout you drive to another, where, after waiting your turn to arrive at the door, perhaps half an hour, the street being full of carriages, you alight, begin the same round, and end in the same manner.
A DAY IN MADRID.
I wake-'tis four o'clock in the morning! The whole broad street of of Alcali is spread before me with all its churches, palaces, and convents ; while at the further end, the shady walks of the Parado form a sublime sight, baffling description. The matin bell announces early mass, the streets become more animated; veiled women in black, men in long brown cloaks, with cedissalas, wearing their hair in a kind of net-work, hanging low down their back. The doors of all the balconies open, and water is sprinkling before every house.
Now the goat-keepers, with their little herds, enter the gates, crying, “ Milk, milk! goat's milk! fresh and warm !” There I saw market women pass by with there asses loaded with vegetables ; bakers with bread, in carts of Spanish reed; watercarriers and porters hastening to commence their day's work; while, with a hoarse voice, two consequential-looking alguazils proclaim thefts committed in the preceding night. By degrees, all the warehouses, shops, and booths, are opened. The publicans (tabernecos) expose their wine-cups; the chocolate women get their pots ready; the water-carriers begin to chaunt their “Quin bebe?" (Who'll drink?) and the hackney-coach and chaise drivers, with muleteers, take their stands. Soon the whole streets resound with numberless criers-“ Cod, white cod ! Onions from Garcia! Walnuts from Biscay! Oranges from Murcia! Hot smoked sausages from Estremadura! Tomatos, large tomatos! Sweet citrons! Barley-water! Ice-water ! A new Journal! A new Gazette ! Water melons ! Long Malaga raisins ! Olives from Seville ! Milk rolls, fresh and hot! Grapes ! Figs, new figs ! Pomegranates from Valencia !” It strikes ten; the guards mount ; dragoons, Swiss regiments, Waloon guards, Spanish infantry; and the universal cry is, “ A los ples vin Donne Manuela! (Let us go to mass.) All the bells are ringing, all the streets are covered with rock roses, rich carpets hang from every balcony, and alters are raised in every square under canopies of state. The procession sets out. What a number of neat little angels, with pasteboard wings, covered with gilt paper ! Images of saints with powdered bob wigs, and robes of gold brocado! What swarms of priests ! and how many beautiful girls, all looking pleasant, and all mixed in groups. The clock proclaims noon. We return through the square of the Puerto del Sol. All their ifas (ruffles) have begun, all the hackney waiters are busy, and the whole square thronged with people. One o'clock-we are called to dinner; a great deal of saffron ; many love apples ; plenty of oil and pimento, but then, wine from La Mancha; all of Xerxes and Malaga! What a fine thing is Spanish cookery! La Siesta ! La Siesta! Senores! A deadly silence is in all the streets ; all the window shutters are put up, or the curtains let down; even the most industrious porter stretches his length on his mat, and falls asleep at the fountain with his pitcher behind him. At four o'clock every body repairs to the bull-fight, to the canal, or to the parado ; all is gaiety and merriment, one equipage after another at full speed, to those places of diversion. The Puerto del Sol becomes as crowded as before, and the water-carriers and orange-women are as busy as bees. Thus passes the afternoon, untill the dusky shades of evening close in at last. Then all the bells again ring, every Spaniard says the prayer of salutation to the Virgin. Now all hasten to the tertulias and theatres, and in a few minutes the rattling of carriages once more resound in every street. The lamps before images of the Virgin are already lighted; the merchants and dealers have illuminuted their houses and shops, and the sellers of ice-water and lemonade their stalls. Every where are seen rush-lights and paper-lanterns on the tables of fruitwomen and cake-men. Meanwhile, the crowd in the square has prodigiously increased, and it is soon full. In one part you hear the soft sound of the guitar, or senu filla ; in another a female ballad-singer tells in rhyme the tale of the last murder committed ; in a third, a thundering missionary attempts to move the hearts of obdurate sinners, while the light-footed Cyprians carry off his audience by dozens. Soon passes the rosary and tatto with music, and the equipages return from the theatres. It grows still later ; the crowds begin to disperse—by one o'clock in the morning, all the streets are still and quiet, and only here and there resounds a lover's solitary guitar, through the more solitary gloom of the night. All else sleeps in the quiet repose, which even nature herself enjoys at night.
THE SPECTRE OF PONT VATHU.
(From the New European Magazine.)
HAM.--Did you not speak to it ?
But answer made it none : yet once, methought,
a belief in the existence of disembodied spirits has prevailed more or less forcibly among the human race; there is, perhaps, no nation, or tribe in the world, many
of whose members do not implicitly believe in the appalling influence of some species or other, of ghost or goblin. A modern writer has endeavoured, by the aid of physiology, to ascertain whether these extraordinary and terrific impressions cannot be explained, from the acknowledged laws of animal economy, independent altogether of supernatural cases; and he has certainly managed his subject with much ingenuity. It is well known, he says, that in certain diseases of the brain, such as delirium and insanity,