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a fixed star, perhaps, the third, never -are most amiable associations of old wearied of shining, yet avoiding all men. Such spindle-shanks you may sameness even in our lustre-our mo nowhere else see as on those links tions often eccentric, no doubt, and and even Galen and Cornaro theme irregular; but anything, as you know, selves, and old Admiral Henry, would better than standing still, -the only look juvenile among the shadows slowfault we ever had to find with the Sun, ly moving from Tee to Tee. but which we are happy now to un The Old Lady likewise approves ot derstand, cannot fairly be laid to his walking, which she tells us is of two charge, as our whole solar system, kinds, “ either on plain ground, or nay, fixed stars and all, do, we are where there are ascents.” But“ walkcredibly informed, keep “moving als ing against a high wind is
very severe together, if they move at all ;” and, exercise, and not to be recommended.” although they journey fast, and have Persons who are kept much within been journeying lovg, have a far way doors, “ought as much as possible to before them yet stretching untravel accustom themselves to be walking led through the Universe.
about, even in their own houses.” No The Old Lady is clear for a great deal doubt they have a right to do so if of exercise, and, of course, fresh air. they choose, and do not occupy an upFresh air has been exhausted by so per flat. But stair-walkers with creakmany writers, that we shall confine ing shoes must be disagreeable husour few concluding remarks to exer bands and fathers. She advises also to cise alone. “ Leaping," she informs change the place where we walk, “ for us, “among the ancients was confined the same place constantly gone over, to distance-but in modern times ex may excite as many disagreeable and tended also to height."-Strange that painful sensations as the closet or the the ancients did not discover high study.” An agreeable companion, too,, leaping !" One Ireland, a native of she has discovered, contributes much Yorkshire, in the eighteenth year of to serenity of mind; “ but unless the his age, by a fair spring, without any mode of walk is siinilar, as well as assistance, trick, or deception, leaped the taste and character congenial, it is over nine horses, standing side by side better to walk alone-as either the one and a man seated on the middle or the other of the two companions horse.” He also, according to this old might be subjected to some constraint;" woman, "jumped over a garter held and, finally, she says, that “ to read fourteen feet high!!!” Now, neither during a walk is an improper action, Ireland, nor any other man on record, highly detrimental to the eyes, and ever leapt seven feet in height without destroys almost all the good effects a spring-board, and none but a fool that can be derived from the exerwould talk of fourteen. The nine cise.” horses were thin narrow animals—not Riding, or, as the old lady has it, fairly placed-and Ireland leapt from riding on horseback, is next strenua spring-board-two feet above the ously recommended to those who earnlevel on which they stood. It was a estly desire to “ live long and comgreat leap-for Ireland was the prince fortably;" but there is not a word of leapers, but not more than twenty- dropt about Fox-hunting, almost the three teet on level ground—which we only kind of riding, besides Racing, ourselves have done-on level ground that in our opinion deserves the name. or nearly so-in presence of a thou- O Lord preserve us! of all amusements, sand spectators. That by the way riding on horseback along the highbut far leaping is to people in ge- road by oneself, especially in miry neral an unsafe exertion--as all in- weather, is the most deplorable! We tense exertions must be—and ought to seriously pity every man who keeps a be taken in moderation. Nor should horse-standing at livery. The animal any man leap at all after five-ande must be ridden-regularly too—if you twenty. It is only for light elastic do not wish biin to break your neck. lads to leap more than twice their You come at last to be afraid to look own length. Elderly gentlemen, from out of the window, in case he should twenty-five to thirty, should become be there--pacing up and down the archers—and old men of forty and street-with the saddle all wet probaupwards, golfers. Indeed, various bly—and the long dangling stirrups, Golf-clubs--here and at St Andrews with their vacant irons, summoning
you to come down, and take a gallop us, farther, " to use the flesh-brush through the glaur. The brute often for fifteen or twenty minutes regularfalls unaccountably lame-first in one ly every morning on first getting out foot, and then in another-giving you of bed—and to pursue the same practhe air of a cadger-caves with his tice also at night.” At this rate, the head, though the frost has killed all flesh-brush would never be out of our the flies long ago—keeps starting, hạnds—and we should be afraid of boggling, and stumbling, every ten “establishing a Raw.” Let mangy yards-and, once a month at the least, and scurvy people scrub their superior comes down on his nose, without ever and inferior extremities with the flesh. 80 much as once touching the ground brush, to their own and the Old with his knees, which nevertheless Lady's heart's content. But commend have been broken long ago, while the us to a good stiff, hard, rough, yarn hair
, having grown on white, gives towel—that makes our body blush them the appearance of being padded. like a Peony, and glow like a Furnace. We could not have heart to wish our Literary men are also told " for a worst enemy to keep a horse through change to run briskly up and down the winter in a town. Then, what ri- stairs several times, or to use the shutders are our Edinburgh youth! It is tlecock”_"orfight with their own shathe fashion now to take lessons-and dow,"--an exercise described, it seems, every prig of an apprentice you see on by Addison in one of his Spectators. horseback seems to have two cork When the worst has come to the worst, legs
. Out they jut in one immovable we shall fight with our own shadow ; position—just as if the ostler had – but that will not be till not a block hoisted the young adventurer on, and head is left on the face of the whole then skrewed his cork legs to the earth for us to bastinado-not till we sticking place—with a positive injunc- observe that we are positively the Last tion not to attempt shifting thein till Man, shall we have recourse to that they come home and have themselves recreation. dismounted. They seem to have no We are finally told to read aloud anı! joints—either at hip, knee, or ankle loudly, “out of any work before us" -and then look at the way they hold -"to promote pulmonary circulation, the bridle! That is riding à la mili- and strengthen the digestive organs. taire! The quill-driver thinks bimself We know a much better exercise of a cavalry officer--and has the audacie the lungs than that, and one we frety to ride past Jock's Lodge. This quently practise. It is to thrust our Pain is expensive-and purchased Pain head and shoulders out of the window, is by idiots for a while thought Plea- and imagining that we see a scoundrel sure. But we have an article on “Ri- stealing apples in the orchard, or car. ding” lying by us—which shall be rying off a howtowdie, to roir out forthcoming in an early Number—by upon him as if it were Stentor blowing a gentleman lineally descended from a great brazen trumpet, “ Who are
you-you rascal-stand still or I will Grannum next addresses herself, on blow you to atoms with this blunder. the subject of Exercise, exclusively to
buss !" The thief takes to his heels, men of letters--and we cannot help and having got a hundred yarıls farthinking has ourselves more particu- ther off, you must intensify your roar larly in her eye, which she cocks leere into a Briareus—even unto the third ingly at Old Christopher. She recom remove-and then the chance is, that mends us to have “dumb-bells and a some decent citizen heaves in sight, couple of flesh-brushes always at hand, who, terrified out of his seven senses, that we may steal a few moments from falls head over heels into the kennel our studies to exercise the superior —when you, still anxious“ to promote extremities with the former, and the pulmonary circulation and strengthen inferior limbs and the head and neck your digestive organs,” burst out into a with the latter.” Dumb-bells we have guffaw that starties the Castle rocknever used since Jack Thartell at and then, letting down the lattice, retempted to murder his friend Wood turn to your article, which, like Ure with a pair-and as for flesh-brushes, haggis of the Director-General, is inwhy, our skin is as clear as amber, and ded a Roarer. our flesh as firm as marble. She tells
ΧΡΗ ΔΕΝ ΣΥΜΠΟΣΙΩ ΚΥΛΙΚΩΝ ΠΕΡΙΝΙΣΣΟΜΕΝΑΩΝ
[This is a distich by wise old Phocylides,
C. N. ap. Ambr.
Scene I.-Picardy Place-South-East Drawing Room-The SHEPHERD Solus.
Perfec' enchantment! Ae single material coal fire multiplied by mirrors into a score o' unsubstantial reflections, ilka image burnin' awa' as brichtly up its ain shadowy chimley, as the original Prototeep! Only, ye dinna hear the phantom-fires murmuring about the bars-their flickering tongues are a' silent
they micht seem to reek at a puff o'the Prototeep,—but sic seemin' wadna dim the atmosphere o' this splendid Saloon. The refraction and reflection o' light's a beautifu' mystery, and I wus I understood the sceence o' optics. And yet ablins it's better no—I michtna then wi' sic a shudder o' instantawneous delicht, naething short o' religion, glower upon the rainbow, the Apparition o' the storm. Let Pheelosophers ken causes—Poets effecks. Ye canna ca' him an ignorawmus that kens effecks—and then in the moral world, which belangs to men o' genius like Me and Burns, there's for the maist part a confused but no an obscure notion o' causes accompanying the knowledge o' effecks—difficult to express formally, like a preacher in his poopit, or a professor in his chair, but colouring the poetry o effecks wi' the tinge o' the pheelosophy o'causes, sae that the reader alloos that reasou and imagination are ane, and that there's nae truth like fiction.-0, ye bit bunny bricht burning fires, there's only ane amang ye a' that gies ony heat! A’ the rest's but delusion-just as when the evening star lets loose her locks to the dews high up in heaven, every pool amang the mountains has its ain Eidolon, sae that the earth seems strewn with stars, yet a' the while there's in reality but ae star, and her name is Venus, the delicht o' Gods and men and universal natur.--Ma faith, you're a maist magnificent time-piece, towerin' there on the mantel, mair like a palace wi' thae ivory pillars, or the verra temple o' Solomon! To what a heicht man has carried the mechanical airts—till they've become imaginative! There's poetry in that portal-mercy on us, twa figures comin' out, haun in haun, frae the interior o' the building intill the open air, apparelled like wee bit Christians, yet nae bigger than fairies. Weel, that beats a'—first the tane and then the tither, wi' its tiny siller rod, seemin' to strike the chimes on a sheet o'tinsel and then aff and awa in amang the ticks o' the clock-wark! Puir creturs, wi' a' their fantastic friskiness, they maun lead a slavish life, up and out to their wark, every hour o'the day and nicht, Sabbaths and a', sae that they haena time even to finish a dream. That's waur than human life itsell; for the wee midshipman in a man-o'-war is aye allooed four hours' sleep at a streatch, and mair than that is the lot o'the puirest herd callant, wha, haein' nae pawrents, is glad to sair a hard master, withouten ony wage a plaid, parritch, and a
cauff-bed.-Mony, certes, is the curious contrivance for notin' time! The hourglass—to my mind, the maist impressive, perhaps, o' them a'-as ye see the. sand perpetually dreep-dreepin' awa momently—and then a' dune just like life. Then, wi' a touch o' the haun, or whawmle in which there's aye something baith o'feelin' and o’thocht, there begins anither era, or epoch of an hour, during which ane o' your ain bairns, wha has been lang in a decline, and visited by the doctor only when he's been at ony rate passin' by, gies a groanlike sich, and ye ken in a moment that he's dead-or an earthquake tumbles down Lisbon, or some city in Calabria, while a' the folk, men, women, and children, fall down on their knees, or are crushed aiblins by falling churches. “The dial-stane aged and green,
-ane o' Cammel's fine lines ! Houses change families, not only at Michaelmas, but often on a sudden summons frae death, there is a general flitting, awa a'thegither frae this side o'the kintra, nane o' the neebours ken whare ; and sae, ye see, dial-stanes get green, for there are nae bairns' hauns to pick aff the moss, and it's no muckle that the Robin Redbreast taks for his nest or the Kitty-Wren. It's aften been a mournfu'thocht wi' me, that o' a'the dial-stanes I ever saw, staunin'in a sort o'circle in the middle o' a garden, or in a nyeuck o'grun that might ance hae been a garden, just as you gang in or out o' the village, or in a kirk-yard, there was aye something wrang wi' them, either wi’ the finger or the face, sae that Time laughed at his ain altar, and gied it a kick in the by-gaun, till it begood to hang a' to the tae-side like a negleckit tomb-stane ower the banes o' some ane or ither buried lang afore the Covenant.—Isna that a fiddle on the brace-piece ? Let's hawnle her—Ay, just like a' the lave--ae string wantin'-and something or ither wrang wi’ twa three o' the pegs-sae, that whan ye skrew up, they'll no hauj the grip. Ne’ertheless, I'll play mysell a bit tune. Got, she's no an ill fiddle-but some folk can bring music out o'a boot-jack.
O Mother, tell the laird o't, Or sair-ly it will grieve me, O, That
I'm to wake the ewes the night, An' Annie's to gang wi' me, 0. I'll
wake the ewes my night a - bout, But ne'er wi' ane sae sau-cy, 0; Nor
sit my lane the lee-lang night Wi' sic a scornfu' lassie, 0.
no wake, I'll no wake, I'll no wake wi’ Annie, 0, Nor sit my lane o'er
The ewes ye wake are fair enough,
Upon the brae sae bonny, 0;
He'll no wake, &c.
I tauld ye ear', I tauld
When left your lane wi' Annie, 0.
Or beauty's tongue will ban ye, 0,
He'll no wake, &c.
The night it was a simmer night,
An' the glen was lanely, 0,
Peep'd o'er the hill serenely, 0.
Ayont the moor sae flowy, 0,
He maun wake, &c.
Neist morning at his mother's knee,
He bless'd her love unfeign’dly, 0;
the tear fell frae his ee,
Up in yon glen sae grassy, 0.
I'll aye wake, I'll aye wake,
Sae sweet, sae kind, an' cannie, 0. I'm no in bad vice the nicht-and oh! but the Saloon's a gran' ha' for singin'! Here's your health and sang, sir. Dog on't, if I didna believe for a minute that yon Image was anither Man! I dinna a'thegither just like this room, for it's getting unco like a Pandemonium. It would be a fearsome room to get fou in-for then you would sit glowerin' in the middle o' forty fires, and yet fear that you were nae Salamander. You wud be frichtened to stir, in case you either walked intil the real ribs, or gaed crash through a lookin'-glass thinken't the trance. I'm beginnin' to get a wee dizzy-sae let me sit down on this settee. Oh ! Wow but this is a sonsie sofa! It wad do brawly for a honeymoon. It's aneugh o' itsell to gar man fa' in love wi' he disna ken wha—or the ugliest woman o' a' his hail acquantance. I declare that I dinna ken whether I'm sittin', or stannin', or lyin', or hangin' in air, or dookin'in warm water. The leanest o' human kind wud fin' itsell saft and plump, on, or rather in, sic a settee, for there's nae kennin' the seat frae the thing sittin', and ane’s amalgamated, to use a chemical word, corporeally wi' the cushions, and part and parcel o'the fringed furniture o' a room fit to be the Sanctum Sanctorum o' the Spirit o' Sardanapalus after Apotheosis. Sae intense is the luxury, that it gars me unawaures use langnebbed classical words, in preference to my mither tongue, which seems ower puir-like and impovereeshed for giein' adequate expression to a voluptuousness that laps my spirit in an Oriental Elysium. A doobled rose-leaf would be felt uneasily below my limbs the noo-yet I wud be ower steeped in luxurious la. ziness to allow mysell even to be lifted up by the saft fingers, and hauns, and arms, and shouthers, o’a train o' virgins, till the loveliest o' them a' micht redd