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which they look upon as a barba- a bishop suffragan of Rome, and rous custom : but they wear mourn- has a cathedral that deserves a ing more regularly and longer traveller's view. Here they prethan in many other countries. tend to shew you à pillar of SoloÀ woman in a mourning-dreśš ap-mon's Temple, and a rock which pears in black from head to foot, was cleft in two by an earthquake not the least bit of linen being to at our Saviour's crucifixion. It be seen.
is also noted for the Mausoleum : The Italians possess a great of Minutius Plancus, now called choice of provisions, which are for the tower of Ornando; and for the most part very fine, but they the monument of the duke of éat kites, buzzards, jays, magpies, Bourbon, constable of France, and many other kinds which we who was killed at the siege of never touch in England.
Rome, in the year 1527. Having satisfied our curiosity Within sixteen miles of Naples, at Rome, we set out for Naples. on the river Volturno, and in a Till we came to Terracina, which delightful plain, stands the city of is almost fifty miles, there is scarce Capua, an archbishop's see, but å town of note, except Velitri, in a declining condition. About which is the see of a bishop, (who two miles from it lie the ruins of is also bishop of Ostia) and pret- the ancient Capua, where the fa: ty fall of inhabitants. Augustus mous Hannibal wasted his time was nursed in a house near this and debauched his army, while place; into which the Romans the Romans recovered from the made it unlawful to enter, out of consternation into which they à veneratiớn for his memory. had been thrown by their de Terracina, the anxur of the anci- feat at Cannæ, and not long afterents, stands on a hill a little dis- wards obliged him to abandon tance from the sea, near the Fron- Italy. tiers of the kingdom of Naples. It is certainly very pleasant, in It is but a small town, and thinly travelling from Rome to Naples to inhabited, on account of its un- observe the several places that wholesome air, occasioned by the have been described by the clasneighbouring marshes ; but is sie authors, (especially the poets), still the see of a bishop.
and have been the scenes of so The next pl ce of any account many memorable actions : but per'on the road is Gaieta, situated on haps the most noble remnant of a rock near a bay of the sea, to antiquity to be seen in the whole which it communicates its name. journey is a part of the Via Appia, The harbour is defended by two over which we travelled for about castles, and is reckoned the best thirty miles. This highway, which in the kingdom. It is the see of received iis name from Appius
Claudius Cæcus, who began it lent domestic economy, which during his consulate, extended by imagination can conceive, may be the way of Capua quite from Rome depended on, as the writer, whose to Brindisi, upwards of 300 miles; veracity there is no reason to from whence also several other doubt, avers every circumstance ways were branched out to the therein to be literally true. cities in the south-west parts of Italy. It is twelve feet broad, Dear Dick, consisting chiefly of blue stones,
You ask me what of a cubical form, each side mea- I have seen in my ramble, worth suring a foot and a half. The relating. You are no antiquarian; strength of this causeway is evi. I will not therefore trouble you dent from its long duration, for it with ruined abbeys, Gothic cashas now lasted above two thousand tles, Roman and Danish camps, years, and is for several miles to
or Druidical circles, but confine gether as entire as when it was
my narrative to a human curiosity.. tirst made. It is very probable This is a Mr. Osbaldeston, an atthat this pavement was originally torney's clerk, and, in spite of the above the level of the ground, and popular prejudices against his prothat a long course of years has fession, said to be an honest man, brought it to an equality with the This you will allow to be a cusurface, as we find it at present : riosity, but that is not all. This for had it been upon a level first honest limb of the law is married, of all, the weight of the stones and has at least half a dozen would in time have sunk them children, all of whom, with as many lower, and the ground on each couple of haụnds, and a brace of side would have been considerably hunters, he maintains out of,-how higher than the pavement. Mules much do you think? Guess a are the beasts of burthen that little, I pray you.—Why then to can hold out longest in this road, support himself, a wife, and six which is very inconvenient for children, twelve dogs, and two wheel carriages, being in many horses, he has not a penny more places rugged and uneven, than sixty pounds per annum !
And, if possible to increase the miracle, he did this in London for many years, paying every one
bis own, and keeping a tight coat To the Editor of the Oxford Enter for sundays and holydays. But taining Miscelluny.
I will try to explain this seeming
paradox, After the expiration The following letter, contain of the time which Mr. Osbaldesing an instance of the most excel.lton owed his master, he acted as
To be continued
an accountant for the butchers in having snatched a piece of liver Clare market, who paid him in from Miss Dorethea, was obliged offal; the choicest morsels of this on the spot to restore it to the he selected for himself and family, young lady. On inquiry I found and with the rest he fed his that Mr. 0. was the younger son hounds, which he kept in his gar- of a gentleman of good family, ret. His horses were lodged in but small fortune, in the north of his cellar, and fed on grains from England, and that having imprua neighbouring brewhouse, and dently married one of his father's on damaged corn, with which he servants, he was turned out of was supplied by a corn chandler, doors, with no other fortune than whose books he kept in order. a southern hound big with pup, Once or twice a week he hunted, whose offspring has since been a and by giving a hare now and source of profit and amusement then, to the farmers, over whose to him. grounds he sported, secured their good will and permission. Be
My dear Dick, sides which, several gentlemen,
Ever Yours sincerely, struck with his extraordinary eco
C. W. nomy, winked at his going over (We have inserted this according their manors with his moderate to our Correspondent's wish, but the pack. Accident has since re- probability of it we leave to our read
EDITORS.] moved this uncommon man to Lewes, in Sussex, where, on the same stipend, he continues to maintain the same family. Cu
Varieties. riosity led me to visit this extraordinary party, about their dinner The Funeral Ceremonies of the Antine. The two-legged part of it
cient Mexicans. were clean, though not superflu- (Extracted from the Historical Works of Aeosta.) ously clothed, and seemed to live
The priests and their attendants like brothers with the surround- are the parties who perform the ing animals-it looked in short funeral ceremonies of the Mexi-, somewhat like the golden age. cans. Some people among them Mr. 0. himself seemed and acted are interred in their own gardens, as the father of the quadrupeds, as or in the courts of their own well as the bipeds, and as such, houses; others are taken to the decided with the utmost impar- places of sacrifice on the mcuntiality ; for master Jacky having tains, and others are burnt and taken a bone from Jowler, he their ashes conveyed to the temcommanded instant restitution. ples, where they are preserved. And on the other hand, Dody, It is the custom with respect to
those whose bodies are burnt after thought to be in a deep decline, they are dead, to collect the ashes when a friend advised him to and put them into an urn, in which swallow an egg every morning, are placed the jewels and precious which restored him to health, and stones belonging to the deceased. shortly after he got married. Dr. Funeral songs are chaunted, and D- soon after, upon meeting him, the bodies, before they are de- complimented him upon it. "I stroyed by fire, have a number of was egg'd into it," said the genceremonies performed around them, leman. “Then I hope,” replied In the places where these things the Doctor, “ that the yolk will are executed, much feasting takes sit easy upon you." place, while the body lies in state, and if tlie deceased be a rich man, mourning habits are given to every An ignorant candidate for me. one who attends the funeral.
dical honours, having thrown hiniWhen any one of condition dies, self into a fever, from his incapathe body is put into a room, until bility of answering questious, was all the friends of the deceased are asked by one of the censors, how assembled, and then presents are the would sweat a patient for the offered to it as though it were liv- rheuinatism? he answered, ing. Should the deceased hap-swear I would send him here to pen to be a King, or a man at the be examined." head of a city, a number of slaves are put to death, according to the
Lord Srank of the party, in order that
eminent the deceased may be properly at
for his reverence of the clerical tended in the other-world. The habit, being once in company, priest or chaplain is also sacrificed where there were a number of cler(for it is the practice for every gymen, offered, in a whisper, to great man to have a priest resi- lay a considerable wager with the ding in his house, to administer gentleman who sat next him, that to him religious consolation), in among the ten parsons there was order that the dsceased may not not one prayer book. The wager be neglected in the other world. was accepted and a mock dispute His cooks and many of his ser- gave him occasion to ask for a vants are likewise killed, and even prayer book to decide it. They the youngest brothers of the de- had not one. He soon offered to funct are not spared.
lay another wager with the same gentleman, that among the ten
parsons there was half a score Cure for Consumption.--Acork-screws. This was also ac, young gentleman of Oxford was cepted, and the butler þeing pre
viously instructed, coming into oh! why did I break from the womb. the room with a bottle of claret,
And why did heav'n send me to life and a broken cork-screw,
Was it but for to sink in the tomb, request
And share in this troublesome strife? ed any gentleman to lend him one.
Did I know you would feel for my Every priest who was present had
grief, a cork-screw in his pocket.
That you'd shed o'er my sorrows
I could sink full of joy to the bier. Newspapers. One of the
For thou wert not cruelalas! earliest country Newspapers was
T'was fortune that frown'd at my printed by a man named Mogg
birth ridge, who used to insert the in- But enough—for my life will soon pass; telligence from Yorkshire, under And I be at rest in the earth. the head “ Foreign News," If a thought of me enter thy breast,
Mid life's madd’ning pleasures and
Oh! think that I then am at rest
In a world where no sorrow annoys.
When my breath is fast dying away, TO MISS M ....
When my heart is corroded with care, Farewell to the home of my sires,
The winds, as lone I decay, Farewell to thee, girl of my heart,
My blessings to Marg'ret shall bear. Farewell to the land which inspires All virtue, all goodness, and art.
TO MISS ELIZA P.. For life I'm unfit, as the slave
Who bows to a despots command; There's a pleasure arises when zephyrs For me there remains but the grave,
are blowing, Which I'll find in a far distant land; When murmuring streams through the Where no mortal shall hear my sighs; When birds in the grove, in rich foli
meadows are flowing, Where the wild beast still ruams for
age array’d, prey ;
Are warbling their wild notes beneath Where the vulture shall list to my
its cool shade, cries, And wait for my body's decay.
There's a pleasure far sweeter in
beauty's fond smile, In a land where no mortal appears,
Which our thoughts of all sorrows will Where no vestige of man can be oft times beguile; found;
And we think it is bliss never fading Where nothing the heart-broken cheers
we feel, Bat the howling of tempests around! When the eyes tell the secret the The waves of the storm-beaten ocean ; tongue would conceal. The winds 'mid the mountains which But 0! these are fleeting as youth's dwell,
golden dreams, l'll still, in their wildest commotion, And delusive as hope, when most
When the name of my fairest I tell. brightly she beams;