nearly beaten to pieces, though they differed as to the time when she might be expected over; none, however, thinking it could be less than three months, and some deeming the injury altogether irreparable. To make assurance doubly sure, I applied finally to the landlady of my hotel, who very candidly told me, that there was a gentleman in the place attached to the steam-boat establishment; that she expected him to call in about half an hour, and would send him to my room. He presented himself accordingly, and I instantly saw by his looks that the news was all true. He had only that morning received a letter from the captain, informing him that the iron paddles could not be repaired at Calais, and that she must be towed over to Dover, where he feared he should inevitably be detained a month or five weeks. In this emergency, he recommended me, as a friend, to embark on board the regular packet, which with the wind then prevailing could not be above three or four hours in effecting the passage. I took his advice: the first person I saw on board "the regular packet," when I had bargained for my conveyance, was himself acting as mate:-we had a miserable passage of eight hours, all dreadfully ill; and, on the morning following our arrival, had the mortification of seeing the steam-boat cutting out of Calais harbour in gallant trim, as if she were flying over the waters to confound all the detractors and falsifiers of Dover. Remembered the anecdote of Gibbon, who being disturbed, when writing his history, by the quarrels of two servants beneath his window, proceeded to investigate the cause, but was utterly unable to ascertain the truth between their conflicting statements. "How futile," he exclaimed," the task on which I am now employed, of deciding some contested point of the quarrel between Cæsar and Antony, when I cannot pronounce upon a fact which has occurred within this half hour almost in my own presence."-MEM. Not to learn distrust and a general system of doubting from these instances; for it is better to be an occasional dupe than a systematic Pyrrhonist. Having lost the tide at Calais, we were forced to disembark in small boats, at an additional expense of four francs each, an imposition first sanctioned by the mayor of Dover, and only a retaliation on the part of the French. As we approached the shore, the national character instantly began to manifest itself: each of the rowers, utterly indifferent to the orders of the steersman, seemed to have a plan of his own for avoiding the breakers, which he supported with inconceivable vehemence of voice and gesticulation, echoed and even surpassed by a hundred half-naked fellows on the beach, who, as we drew near, rushed into the water, and seizing us amidst a thousand exclamations, all uttered in the highest key of their voice, conveyed us in their arms, or on their backs, to the wet sands, where, upon paying one frank and a half more, each person had the pleasure of finding himself standing in a French puddle. Contrasted this vociferous and attitudinising hurlyburly with an incident of which I was once a witness, and which evinced the phlegmatic energy of the English character. In one of our steamboats a sudden gust of wind having blown the steersman's hat into the water, he muttered an oath-rang the bell, which gave notice to the superintendant of the boiler below to take off the steam and stop the vessel, and calling out the word "Tom!" to a sailor, pointed to the floating beaver. Without uttering a word, Tom touched a messmate's shoulder, and repeated the signal with his finger, when they both jumped into the small boat at the vessel's stern, pulled instantly away with all their strength,-recovered the hat, and delivered their dripping prize in perfect silence to the steersman, who again rang the bell as a signal to proceed, and we resumed our voyage with no other expenditure of breath than a muttered oath, and the pronunciation of the word "Tom!" On board a French vessel a similar occurrence would have raised a hundred voices and shoulders at once, and amid the general uproar they would probably have never decided what was to be done until the hat had sunk, when they would have attitudinised, and exclaimed for half an hour longer. Another half frank for permission to mount Calais Pier enabled us to consider ourselves fairly in France, not all disposed to quarrel with Dr. Johnson's definition of a ship, and very much inclined to doubt the existence of that nautical beau ideal, the dramatic sailor. Passed under the gate rendered familiar to the most untravelled Englishman by Hogarth's satirical caricature, and found a comfortable hotel in the Rue Eustache St. Pierre, so named from the celebrated mayor, who resided in it at the time of the memorable surrender, which history and Colman's popular opera have combined to impress upon our recollections. Could that patriotic magistrate lift up his head from beneath the vaults of the great church, we could not help fancying that he would find very little change in the houses or habiliments of his fellow citizens, for every thing appertaining to Calais has an air inconceivably antique, and forms a contrast to England as sudden as it is singular and amusing. One of the first reflections that crossed my mind was the folly and wickedness of kings and rulers, by which two nations, formed to esteem and improve one another, have, for the greatest part of every century, been debarred from mutual intercourse: or only allowed to meet for the rational recreation of cutting one another's throats, or thrusting bayonets into one another's bodies; while their governors, aloof from danger, patted their besotted victims on the back, and stimulated their ferocity till the work of destruction was complete. I recalled the sanguinary wars occasioned by weak monarchs, wicked favourites, and profligate mistresses, not forgetting the political change and convulsion emanating from an angry kick which the Pope bestowed on an English ambassador's lap-dog, for snapping at his spangled slipper; and I had already begun to concoct a philippic worthy of Demosthenes, when it occurred to me, that, in many instances, the rulees might be quite as much in fault as the rulers.-The London merchants, I remember, threw up their hats and gave three cheers when the war was renewed between France and England; and I cannot help considering the pressure and misery which they are now enduring, as a fit reward for their sordid inhumanity.-MEM. Not to indulge too much in declamation, nor impute all the miseries of the world to those who are so obliging as to assume its management. Their fair share is quite enough. If any one should ever peruse this album, he will find strange transitions, for I record whatever comes uppermost (as the phrase is); though it is, perhaps, no very violent change of subject, to wander from the heads of nations to the heads of women, which, among the lower orders, are here universally cased in a clean white cap, without any bonnet. Market-day at Calais afforded us a good opportunity of seeing them assembled, and we pronounced them decidedly more cleanly and better dressed than the same ranks in England; even the fish-women forming a contrast, by their clean head-dresses and stockings, and decent attire as well as demeanour, to that utter abandonment of person and language, for which the ladies of Billingsgate have rendered themselves so notorious. This favourable impression was confirmed on the following evening, when a few sous procured us admission to the Vauxhall of the place, consisting of a shabby room for dancing, with a band of three or four fiddlers, and a small open plat, for the same purpose, surrounded by arbours. It was crowded to excess with soldiers, sailors, and tradespeople, all well-dressed, many of the women even deserving to be termed genteel, if not elegant, in their appearance, and all dancing waltzes and quadrilles, with a spirit, grace, and decorum, that would have done honour to a more select assemblage. Several couples, who could not get admittance into the grand saloon (as it was rather undeservedly called), were dancing outside, while a refreshment-room at the end, notwithstanding the inviting notice that all sorts of liquors were to be had within, at prices subjoined, did not contain a single tenant.-In England, all this would have been reversed; and, as if to complete the contrast, the evening on which we witnessed this universal scene of festivity, was Sunday. Calais is a fortified town of some extent; and having a good market, an extensive pier, and daily intercourse with England possesses attractions as a place of residence for our countrymen, of which a good many have availed themselves. (To be continued.) SONG. AVAUNT with your babble of Venus and Cupid, I never could yet be thus silly or stupid, Earth's breathing inhabitant, mortal I own; Which, fretted with purple, and crimson, and gold, Her priest and attendant-I fling o'er the air Though crowds of young gallants my priesthood would share, For I am no Jesuit, nor proselytes need, While flowers, birds, and zephyrs, with planets above, Pay homage to her, and, adopting my creed, Unite in the blissful religion of love. J. SONNET. YES! it is beautiful-that summer scene, With all the lights of morning o'er it gleaming,- In virtue's brightness, radiant, yet serene; A thought whose presence quenches not, nor checks Such musings are delightful, for they fall With noble thoughts of Immortality. PANANTI'S EPIGRAMS. E. T. PANANTI, who is chiefly known in England by his interesting account of his captivity among the Turks, is much esteemed in Florence as a wit and a pure Tuscan writer. His epigrams are in great circulation in Italian society, where they are admired for their causticity, political allusion, boldness, and liberality of sentiment. The volume which he has printed, though pruned of whatever might give umbrage to the powers that be, has considerable merit. A large part, however, consists of translations from the French, English, and ancient epigrammatists; and of those pieces which are original, many partake too much of the licentiousness, as well as of the purity of diction of the fifteenth century, to render them generally acceptable to an English public. EPIGRAM FROM PANANTI. IN vece di far atti Di carità, di speme, E dell' anima i fatti In vece d'aggiustar, sull' ore estreme Della sua vita Rombo calcolava, Fino a quanto montava La spesa del suo male. Tanto al medico, tanto allo speziale, Tanto per l'inventario e sepoltura Tanto in messe ed in altre opere buone, E' così spaventevole la morte. Stretch'd on his bed of death old Thomas lying, And pretty certain he was dying, Instead of summing his offences, For mixture, bolus, draught and pill, And guineas gone in paying doctors, M. MELANCHOLY. "Gode il cor di trattar le sue ferite." MONTI. I HAVE been mightily puzzled to find out what there is in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, that could have induced Johnson to forego for it, in particular, the habitual comfort of his morning's nap. The sentence in which he records this, has led thousands of pensive gentlemen to purchase the book: it is in every library with its leaves seldom cut half through Democritus Junior's string of impertinencies to the reader. The reason is, that melancholy wants more to be fed than analyzed: it is a natural craving, and demands nourishment instead of medicine. To prescribe antidotes for it, as for poison, is the very way to convert it into the evil they would avoid. Johnson was a great empiric in mental subjects: he was always doctoring his disposition, and, being a strenuous asserter of the power of the will, was fain to have himself a machine-resistless and obedient to the direction of pure intellect. Even the most subtle operations of the mind-literary compositions, for instance -he would have to depend upon resolution alone, independent of health, weather, or any other external causes. It is very likely that this sentiment, dogmatically and determinately felt as it was by him, might have had the effect of producing a habit of mind calculated to corroborate the truth of the opinion. Besides, his clear and compact body of thought was one from which a thread of speculation might be woven at any time. He had no "half-perceptions," none of the intuitive penetration, the sccond sight in metaphysics, which is not to be elicited but at happy intervals. His reflections were part of a solid mass of coarse but sterling sense-ready to be cut out into syllogisms at any time. But of the elegant, the fine, the airy truths, which are struck out like sparks in momentary collision, he knew nothing. He was independent of inspiration, and therefore might contemn and make light of those poetic gleams of intelligence, the mollia tempora, and the casualties, on which genius, proud and mighty as it is, must in a great measure depend. He endeavoured to be as despotic over himself as he was over others, and chid his rebellious feelings in the same authoritative tone that he used to his living antagonists. But those proved more stubborn-were |
