new dish was an indispensable requisite. This pontifical bill of fare preserved by Macrobius consists of two parts-the prefatory or preludial repast, and the genuine and solid dinner. The latter was most probably followed by a dessert; but of this our author makes no mention. The preludial repast, which generally consisted of cold viands, dried and pickled fish and shell fish, is subdivided by Macrobius into two courses. In the first, figured les urchins, oysters, palourdes, spondyli, thrushes, pullets and asparagus, and sea acorns. In the second, the spondyli reappeared, followed by sea nettles, shell fish, beccaficos, wild boar and venison cutlets, and pullet pasties. These trifles were merely meant to act as stimulants, and to call up the forces of the stomach, for the more substantial and savoury repast, which was formed of sows' udders, boars' heads, fish swimming in rich sauces, roasted and fricasseed ducks, hares, and various kinds of game and poultry, together with the lighter auxiliaries of creams, biscuits, &c. Macrobius further informs us, that there were present at this plentiful feast only nine men and six women, reclined upon three rows of beds, two of which were occupied by the priests, and the third by four vestals and two female relations of the pontiff's. Comparing the quantity of provisions with the number of the guests, we must conclude that the Roman pontiffs and vestals of those days were gifted with most capacious stomachs, and the most extraordinary digestive powers. However, this feast must have been something extraordinary, or Macrobius would not have thought it necessary to transmit the bill of fare to posterity. But as to their ordinary repasts, they were certainly not comparable to our modern ones, either in delicacy of fare or social pleasure; our manners concurring in a much more eminent degree to produce the latter quality, whilst, on the contrary, some of the usages of the ancients were repugnant to it. For with them it was the men alone who reclined voluptuously at table upon well-stuffed beds, furnished with abundance of pillows and cushions, while the weaker sex were obliged to sit upright upon chairs, and these probably not of the softest materials. It was the married women only who were allowed the favour of eating at the same table with their haughty lords. The use of wine was strictly forbid them, it being considered a species of poison for the fair sex; and lest the prohibition might have rendered the temptation invincible, they were never entrusted with the key of the winecellar. Is it not probable that master-keys were the invention of that age? The admission of married women to their banquets was even an innovation, for amongst the Greeks, the most polished people of antiquity, females were never permitted to appear at table. The hoaryheaded members of the feast might have solaced themselves for the absence of the women, by discussing the interests of the common weal, or talking wisdom; though not unfrequently these resources seem to have failed them, as we find they were often driven to the more frivolous occupation of proposing and divining riddles, enigmas, rebusses, and even humble charades. During all which time the younger part of the company were forced to be mere listeners, as silence in the presence of their elders was considered an indispensable quality in the youth of those days. Their only consolation was the distant prospect of being gifted, by old age, with the privilege of being as garrulous as their fathers,-a privilege of which they seemed to

take full advantage, as nothing could exceed the fluency of a Greek of a certain age. Of this we have abundant proof in the interminable discourses of the elders in Homer; the soundness of their wind, and the freshness and vivacity of their memories, appearing quite miraculous to us degenerate moderns. The banquet of the Seven Sages offers an equal proof of the copiousness of their phraseology, as of the wisdom of their sentiments. These banquets of the ancients were a kind of intellectual combats, in which wit, eloquence, science, and philosophy, were brought into action. Of these, we can form a tolerably accurate idea by the accounts given of them by Plato, Athenæus, and Plutarch, under the title of Symposia. I am well aware that the interlocutors did not say all that these writers have thought proper to note down as said at table, but it is equally certain that the subjects in discussion were favourite topics with the persons supposed to take a part in those convivial conversations. Upon the subject of these "feasts of reason," Plutarch has made some excellent remarks. He says, "the recollection of the pleasures experienced in eating and drinking is but of little value; but delightful is the remembrance of the pleasure we have felt in an agreeable conversation." Every well-educated man may consider himself as having been present at the banquets of Socrates. If the tables of Callias and Agathon had been more remarkable for the variety or delicacy of their fare, than the charms of social converse, it is not to be supposed that Xenophon and Plato would have omitted all mention of these particulars. But whatever the abundance or luxury might have been that reigned at the board, the impression was quickly effaced by the more refined and intellectual gratification, arising from

Discourse more sweet, that reason'd high

Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,
Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute.

In retracing these scenes, Xenophon and Plato have left us not only models of philosophic discussions, but also of the manner of describing them. In this respect, Plutarch, it must be allowed, is somewhat inferior to his illustrious countrymen, for his table-talk resembles a little the olla podrida so lauded by the erudite Baccius: there is a little of every thing in it, yet this intellectual mélange wants that raciness and piquancy which distinguish the more select and simple compositions of Xenophon and Plato. However, Plutarch's treatise is worthy of minute attention; for, having been familiar with the manners both of the Greeks and Romans, he was enabled to mingle the excellencies of each, and thus enhance the variety of his banquet, seasoning the solid instruction of the inhabitants of Latium with the Attic salt of the light and graceful spirits of Greece. This he has done, though he has deteriorated the mixture, by the addition of too much heterogeneous matter. But if, guided by a refined Epicurean taste, we reject the superfluous and the insipid, we shall find in this treatise of Plutarch's a most excellent code de table, drawn from the precepts and ordinances of the greatest sages of antiquity. A few of these might not be out of place here; they might be served up as a kind of dessert to the Repast of the Ancients. Such are a few of the precepts of the philosopher of Cheronea, and of other sages of antiquity. Had they admitted the

fairer portion of the creation to their festal assemblies, they might have suppressed as useless one half, at least, of their table code. Their banquets would not have been probably so learned and instructive, but would certainly have been more gay, graceful, and agreeable. In this point, I think, we have another decided superiority over our predecessors of Greek and Roman lineage, and are, at least as far as concerns sociability, wiser in our generation than the wise ones of antiquity. D. S.

LONDON LYRICS.

St. James's Park.

'TWAS June, and many a gossip wench,
Child-freighted, trod the central Mall;
I gain'd a white unpeopled bench,
And gazed upon the long Canal.
Beside me soon, in motley talk,
Boys, nursemaids sat, a varying race;
At length two females cross'd the walk
And occupied the vacant space.

In

years they seem'd some forty-four,
Of dwarfish stature, vulgar mien;
A bonnet of black silk cach wore,
And each a gown of bombazeen:
And, while in loud and careless tones
They dwelt upon their own concerns,
Ere long I learn'd that Mrs. Jones

Was one, and one was Mrs. Burns.

They talk'd of little Jane and John,

And hoped they'd come before 'twas dark,
Then wonder'd why with pattens on

One might not walk across the Park:

They call'd it far to Camden-town,

Yet hoped to reach it by and by;

And thought it strange, since flour was down,
That bread should still continue high.

They said last Monday's heavy gales
Had done a monstrous deal of ill;
Then tried to count the iron rails
That wound up Constitution-hill :
This 'larum sedulous to shun,

I donn'd my gloves, to march away,

When, as I gazed upon the one,

"Good Heavens!" I cried, "tis Nancy Gray."

'Twas Nancy, whom I led along

The whiten'd and elastic floor
Amid mirth's merry dancing throng,
Just two and twenty years before.

Though sadly alter'd, I knew her,

While she, 'twas obvious, knew me not;

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But mildly said, Good evening, Sir,"

And with her comrade left the spot.

"Is this," I cried, in grief profound,
"The fair with whom, eclipsing all,
I traversed Ranelagh's bright round,
Or trod the mazes of Vauxhall ?
And is this all that Time can do?
Has Nature nothing else in store?
Is this of lovely twenty-two,

All that remains at forty-four?
"Could I to such a helpmate cling?
Were such a wedded dowdy mine,
On yonder lamp-post would I swing,
Or plunge in yonder Serpentine !"
I left the Park with eyes askance,

But, ere I enter'd Cleveland-row,
Rude Reason thus threw in her lance,
And dealt self-love a mortal blow:
"Time, at whose touch all mortals bow,
From either sex his prey secures,

His scythe, while wounding Nancy's brow, Can scarce have smoothly swept o'er yours : her you plainly were not known;

By

Then, while you mourn the alter'd hue

Of Nancy's face, suspect your own

May be a little alter'd too."

The Newspaper.

CURES for chilblains, corns, and bunnions,
Welsh procession, leaks and onions;
Sad Saint Stephen bored by praters,
Dale and Co. champagne creators;
Spain resolved to spurn endurance,
Economic Life Insurance;

Young man absent from his own house,
Body at Saint Martin's bonehouse;

Search for arms in county Kerry,

Deals, Honduras, Ponticherry,

Treadmill, Haydon, Tom and Jerry.

Pall-Mall, Allen, chairs and tables,
Major Cartwright, iron cables;

Smithfield, price of veal and mutton,
Villa half a mile from Sutton;

Yearly meeting, lots of Quakers,

Freehold farm of forty acres ;

Duke of Angouleme, despatches,

Thatch'd-house tavern, glees and catches;

Coburg, wonderful attraction,

Plunket, playhouse, Orange faction,

Consols eighty and a fraction.

Sales of sail-cloth, silk and camblet,

Kean in Shylock, Young in Hamlet;
Sad effects of random shooting,
Mermaid tavern, box at Tooting,
Water-colour exhibition,

Kemble's statue, Hone's petition;
Chateaubriand, Cape Madeira,
Longwood, Montholon, O'Meara ;

Jerry Bentham's lucubrations,
Hume's critique on army rations,
Ex-officio informations.

Wapping Docks choke full of barter,
Senna, sponges, cream of Tartar;
Willow bonnets, lank and limber,
Mops, molasses, tallow, timber;
Horse Bazaar, the Life of Hayley,
Little Waddington, Old Bailey;
Gibbs and Howard, Gunter's ices,
Thoughts upon the present crisis;
Sweeting's Alley, sales by taper,
Lamp, Sir Humphry, noxious vapour,
Stocks Sum total-Morning Paper.

SYMPATHIES AND PREJUDICES.

"You are not young; no more am I go to, then, there's sympathy. You are merry, so am I; ha! ha! then there's more sympathy. You love sack, and so do I; would you desire better sympathy?" Merry Wives of Windsor.

In moral, as well as physical anatomy, there are diseases that baffle the sagacity of the dissector. Many of our sympathies, and most of our prejudices, are among the number. Of one thing, however, we may be sure, namely, that the latter are the less dangerous of the two; and it may be well to bear that in mind when attempts at remedy have succeeded to efforts of discovery. This may startle my female readers, to whom sympathy, and sympathies, and sympathizing, are words that sound so sweetly, and to whose ears antipathy" is so loathsome. But let them beware of their favourites, for there is almost always a serpent under the roses.

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Sympathy and antipathy may be called, in comparison with other qualities, the poetry of sensation. They are quite imaginative, vague, and unreal;-a sort of inspiration, out of all subserviency to rules or reasoning; finding objects without search; and developing themselves in the most unaccountable ways, in beings the least likely to possess them, and on occasions which set conjecture and calculation at defiance.

Let us see what we can make out as to the nature of these opposite qualities of sympathies and antipathies, the origin of which defies our speculation. We should, perhaps, begin with antipathies, as of least importance, for their worst effects are rarely of more than negative tendency. Sympathies, on the contrary, lead to absolute and positive ill when injurious at all. A man who feels a natural aversion to eels, spinach, parsnips, Jews, Frenchmen, &c. is, ten to one, deprived of a participation in a very good thing, or of an acquaintance with many a good fellow. But he or she whose sympathies lead him or her to favourite viands, liqueurs, or persons, run risks-which I need not enlarge on. And I must be here understood as not confounding sympathy, in this sense, with compassion-that "sympathy with other's woe," one of the most exquisite feelings of our nature; but as taking the word in its metaphysical meaning, as the secret and involuntary spell which draws us towards objects, in the same proportion and with