soned, and proceeded at a slow pace, followed by a train of black eunuchs, guards, and domestic attendants, all most superbly arrayed. The sumptuous dress, particularly the turban of the Grand Signior, surmounted by an aigrette, sparkled in the sun with an extraordinary degree of brilliancy and splendour, and the animal on which he was seated, a high-spirited Arabian, was covered with embroidery, supported on each side by chamberlains, decorated with enormous high plumes on their caps. Notwithstanding the immense crowd of Mahometans assembled at this time, who appear always delighted to view their ruler, and the shouts and noise necessarily occasioned, yet a dead silence reigned throughout at the moment the Grand Signior passed along, who preserved a proud, erect, and steady attitude, casting his eyes to and fro, an act presumed to be a distinguished mark of condescension towards his subjects. This man appeared to be about thirty-five years of age, who was of a sallow complexion, contrasted by a long beard dyed a black colour, and exhibited a striking gravity combined with the greatest hauteur. Notwithstanding his superior elevation in point of rank and consequence, it is a remarkable fact, that a restriction, in consequence of some particular law, is exclusively laid upon him as to the smoking of tobacco and taking snuff, one reason assigned for it is that the head of a personage in his elevated situation should always be kept in a perfectly clear and distinct state. These are luxuries, however, in the country which the most wretched infidel is permitted to enjoy."

Travels of Wm. Rae Wilson, Esq.

AUNT MARTHA.

ONE of the pleasantest habitations I have ever known is an old white house, built at right angles, with the pointed roofs and clustered chimneys of Elizabeth's day, covered with roses, vines, and passion-flowers, and parted by a green sloping meadow from a straggling, picturesque, village street. In this charming abode resides a more charming family: a gentleman,—

"Polite as all his life in courts had been,

And good as he the world had never seen," two daughters full of sweetness and talent; and aunt Martha-the most delightful of old maids! She has another appellation, I suppose,-she must have

but I scarcely know it: aunt Martha is the name that belongs to herthe name of affection. Such is the universal feeling which she inspires, that all

her friends, all her acquaintances, (in this case the terms are almost synonymous,) speak of her like her own family: she is every body's aunt Martha-and a very charming aunt Martha she is.

First of all, she is, as all women should be if they can, remarkably handsome. She may be it is a delicate matter to speak of a lady's age!—she must be five-and-forty; but few beauties of twenty could stand a comparison with her loveliness. It is such a fulness of bloom, so luxuriant, so satiating; just tall enough to carry off the plumpness which at forty-five is so becoming; a brilliant complexion; curled, pouting lips; long, clear, bright grey eyes the colour for expression, that which unites the quickness of the black with the softness of the blue; a Roman regularity of feature; and a profusion of rich brown hair.

Such is aunt Martha. Add to this a very gentle and pleasant speech, always kind, and generally lively; the sweetest temper; the easiest manners; a singular rectitude and singleness of mind; a perfect open-heartedness; and a total unconsciousness of all these charms; and you will wonder a little that she is aunt Martha still. I have heard hints of an early engagement broken by the fickleness of man ;-and there is about her an aversion to love in one particular direction the love matrimonial-and an overflowing of affection in all other channels, that seems as if the natural course of the stream had been violently dammed up. She has many lovers-admirers I should say for there is, amidst her good-humoured gaiety, a coyness that forbids their going farther; a modesty_almost amounting to shyness, that checks even the laughing girls, who sometimes accuse her of stealing away their beaux. I do not think any man on earth would tempt her into wedlock ;-it would be a most unpardonable monopoly if any one should; an intolerable engrossing of a general blessing; a theft from the whole community.

Her usual home is the white house

covered with roses; and her station in the family is rather doubtful. She is not the mistress, for her charming nieces are old enough to take and to adorn the head of the table; nor the housekeeper, though, as she is the only lady of the establishment who wears pockets, those ensigns of authority, the keys will sometimes be found, with other strays, in that goodly receptacle; nor a guest, her spirit is too active for that lazy post; her real vocation there, and every where, seems to be comforting, cheering, welcoming, and spoiling every thing that comes in her

way; and, above all, nursing and taking care. Of all kind employments, these are her favourites. Oh, the shawlings, the cloakings, the cloggings! the cautions against cold, or heat, or rain, or sun! the remedies for diseases not arrived! colds uncaught! incipient tooth-aches! rheumatisms to come! She loves nursing so well, that we used to accuse her of inventing maladies for other people, that she might have the pleasure of curing them; and when they really come as come they will sometimes in spite of aunt Martha what a nurse she is! It is worth while to be a little sick to be so attended. All the cousins, cousins' cousins of her connexion, as regularly send for her on the occasion of a lying-in, as for the midwife. I suppose she has undergone the ceremony of dandling the baby, sitting up with the new mamma, and dispensing the caudle, twenty times at least. She is equally important at weddings or funerals. Her humanity is inexhaustible. She has an intense feeling of fellowship with her kind, and grieves or rejoices in the suffering or happiness of others with a reality as genuine as it is rare. Her accomplishments are exactly of this sympathetic order; all calculated to administer much to the pleasure of her companions, and nothing to her own importance or vanity. She leaves to the syrens, her nieces, the higher enchantments of the piano, the harp, and the guitar, and that noblest of instruments, the human voice; ambitious of no other musical fame than such as belongs to the playing of quadrilles and waltzes for their little dances, in which she is indefatigable: she neither caricatures the face of man nor of nature under pretence of drawing figures or landscapes; but she ornaments the reticules, bell-ropes, ottomans, and chair-covers of all her acquaintance, with flowers as rich and luxurious as her own beauty. She draws patterns for the ignorant, and works flounces, frills, and baby-linen, for the idle; she reads aloud to the sick, plays at cards with the old, and loses at chess to the unhappy. Her gift in gossiping, too, is extraordinary; she is a gentle newsmonger, and turns her scandal on the sunny side. But she is an old maid still; and certain small peculiarities hang about her. She is a thorough hoarder : whatever fashion comes up, she is sure to have something of the sort by her or, at least, something thereunto convertible. She is a little superstitious; sees strangers in her tea-cup, gifts in her finger-nails, letters and winding-sheets in the candle, and purses and coffins in the fire; would not spill the salt "for

all the worlds that one ever has to give ;" and looks with dismay on a crossed knife and fork. Moreover, she is orderly to fidgetiness;-that is her greatest calamity!-for young ladies now-a-days are not quite so tidy as they should be,— and ladies' maids are much worse; and drawers are tumbled, and drawing-rooms in a litter. Happy she to whom a disarranged drawer can be a misery! dear and happy aunt Martha !—Mrs. Mitford's Village Sketches.

The Gatherer.

I am but a Gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff."---Wotton.

THE RING.

(For the Mirror.) THE practice of marrying by a ring for the female, was adopted from the Romans: the bride was modestly veiled, and after receiving the nuptial benediction, was crowned with flowers. During the time of our commonwealth, it was customary for the banns of marriage to be proclaimed on three market-days in Newgate-Market, and afterwards the parties were married at the church, and the register states, that they were married at the place of meeting called the church. T. A. C.

EPIGRAM

On a Sailor, who was thrown on the neck of his horse.

SPECTATOR, cease your cruel glee,
From taunting jests refrain,
Sure, 'tis no wondrous thing to see
A Sailor on the mane !

TIMOTHY QUAINT.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

place great reliance, assures us, that Lord Byron A Correspondent, on whose correctness we was born in Holles Street, Cavendish Square.

Dr. Syntax is requested to call at our office

for a letter.

We thank Julian, but the extensive sale of

the MIRROR precludes it.

The Dissipated Husband displays good feeling, but nothing more.

A youth of eleven years of age can be no judge of female charms, and therefore should not attempt to describe them.

Byron's Riddle is too well known.

We thank George Bland, and shall be happy to hear from him.

The article alluded to by E. B. has appeared in the "Cabinet of Curiosities."

A Constant Reader wishes to know where he can obtain an Account of the Ancestors of Sir John Hawkins the great Admiral.

Communications from T. E. C., Vivyan, W. E. W., H. L., (from whom we shall be happy to hear), and Francisco, are intended for early in-. sertion.

Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, by all Newsmen and Booksellers. 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) and sold

THE Nunnery of Streonshalh, which was the original name of Whitby until the Anglo-Norman period, owes its existence to Lady Hilda, who was the foundress and first Abbess of this monastery. It was established about three or four years after that of Lestingham, and was founded under the patronage of King Oswy, whose daughter, Elfleda, was the second Abbess. Before the great battle of Winwidfeild (or Leeds), in which Penda, King of Mercia, was overthrown by Oswy, the latter vowed, that if he should prove victorious, he would devote his infant daughter to the Lord, and at the same time give twelve manors or possessions of land for founding monasteries. In fulfilment of this vow, Oswy committed Elfleda, who was scarcely a year old, to the care of Hilda, Abbess of Heruten, or Hartepool; and set apart, for the support of monastic institutions, twelve possessions of land, six in Deira, and six in Bernicia, each consisting of "ten families." As the battle was gained in the end of the year 655, the infant Elfleda might be sent to Hartepool in the spring of 656; and two years after, that is, in the beginning of 658, Lady Hilda "having purchased a possession of ten families in a place called VOL. III. 2 B

Streoneshalh, there built a monastery ;" where she and the young princess, with many, if not all of the sisterhood who were at Hartepool, took up their abode.

This possession, though stated to be purchased by Lady Hilda, may be supposed to have been purchased at Oswy's expense, and to have been one of the twelve possessions before mentioned, as each of them consisted of " ten families." It appears that the monastery of Streoneshalh at the close of Lady Hilda's life was of great extent, comprising a variety of buildings adapted for different uses, some of which stood at a considerable distance from others. This Abbess died on the 17th of November, in the year 680, and was succeeded in the government of the Abbey by her royal pupil Elfleda, then 26 years of age. Six years after the death of Lady Hilda, the Abbey was in a very flourishing condition, possessed of an extensive territory, in which were many congregations of monks and nuns; and these congregations were still on the increase as new settlements were formed, and new churches built and dedicated. The death of Elfleda took place in the year 713, when she was 59 years of age.

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We have no account of the close of her life; but we are informed that she was interred at St. Peter's Church at Streoneshalh, close to the remains of her royal parents, and her venerable predecessor.

The history of the Abbey, from the death of Ælfleda to the Danish irruption, is irrecoverably lost; at least, we have no information relating to that period which can be depended upon. Some of the monkish authors, particularly Matthew of Westminster, and John Wallingford, inform us, that the monastery of Streoneshalh continued to be occupied by nuns till the Danish irruption in 867; but they vary a little in their account of the destruction of the monastery, the former intimating that the nuns were slain, while the latter only states, that they were driven out with violence, and their habitation laid waste.

The desolation of Streoneshalh was so complete, and of so long continuance, that when it began to be again inhabited, the original name was lost, and the place was distinguished by the new name of Whitby, (from the Saxon or Danish words phit, white, and bye, village): the new town being chiefly constructed of stone, taken from the ruins of the monastic buildings.

The restoration of the monastery was begun by a humble individual named Reinfrid, in the year 1074. This man was one of the three monks, who, in the year preceding set out from Evesham Abbey on a kind of pilgrimage to the north, to restore monastic institutions in Northumbria. They travelled on foot, with a little ass to carry their books and priestly garments. Having settled for a short time at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, then called Monkchester, they removed thence to Jarrow, where they built themselves huts among the ruins of the ancient Abbey, and erected a temporary place of worship. Here they collected a goodly number of followers, and with a view to diffuse the monastic spirit more extensively, they divided their forces; which occasion, Reinfrid, with his share of the followers, travelled southward to Whitby, to revive the ancient monastery of St. Hilda. Reinfrid, we are told, had formerly been a soldier in the army of William the Conqueror, and as such had been known to William de Percy, Lord of Whitby, who readily granted him and his paternity, the site of the ancient Abbey. The monastery of Whitby obtained its principal endowments from the Percy family, ancestors of the Dukes of Northumberland, and other branches of the noble family of Percy. The son of William de Percy, Allan, endowed it

on

with the whole of that extensive territory now denominated Whitby Strand.

Whitby Abbey was surrendered to the crown, December 14, 1539; it being stipulated, that annuities should be paid to the monks, according to their rank, during life, or until they could be otherwise provided for by the king.

At the dissolution, the site of Whitby Abbey, the manor of Whitby, and several parcels of the Abbey lands, were let for 21 years to Richard Cholmley, Esq. afterwards Sir Richard Cholmley. Before the expiration of this lease, the premises were bought of the king by John, Earl of Warwick, in 1550; and from him by Sir Edward York, in 1551; of whom they were purchased by Sir Richard Cholmley, the lessee, July 2, 1555. They have remained ever since in the possession of the Cholmley family; together with various rights and privileges in Whitby and Whitby Strand, which had been enjoyed by the Abbots of Whitby.

While the lands were thus disposed of, King Henry reserved to himself the furniture, plate, bells, &c. belonging to the monastery. Tradition reports, that the bells of the Abbey, having been shipped for London, sunk with the vessel which carried them, on the outside of Whitby rock, and were never recovered. The demolition of the walls of the Abbey Church was not attempted by the greedy plunderers, but was committed to the slow hand of time; and though that unsparing agent has done much towards completing the work of destruction, enough still remains, as will appear by our engraving, to bear witness to the extent and magnificence of the venerable fabric. E. M. H.

THE TUNNEL UNDER THE THAMES; A Conversation between the Thames and the Medway.

(For the Mirror.)

As the Medway and Thames were about to unite, The former found Thames in a woe-begone plight.

In anguish he now tossed his waves to the sky, Now sighed to the reeds as he slowly rolled by. And he mourned to the pebbles that sprinkled His tears had augmented the depth of his tide,

his side.

Said Thames, "I've some very bad news to relate;

These vile engineers (at least so 'tis said,)
Was ever a River so ill used by fate!
Are about to make passages under my bed---

But that's if I'll let them---I'll have no Tunnel
To let out my water as fast as a funnel.

When Dodd once attempted to bore a hole through,

I told him at once that the thing would not do; I shewed him his scheme was no more than a bubble,

And gave him a good blowing-up for his trouble."