porter, (for violoncellos are not the smallest children in the world,) to Mrs. Shewoff's, my exquisite, rare-toned, early-part-of-the-sixteenth-century,carved Guanerius, with a large parcel of music, not that I could play five bars of its contents, but n'importe appearance was my aim, and I wished to frighten the saints. This was doing the thing in a regular sort of way, à la Lindley; this told the family that Signior Basso was coming; for having been apprised that the party was to be a quiet friendly sort of meeting, I had made up my mind to go pretty early, and wonderful to relate, I kept my time, for I arrived at the house just as the Charley was chanting past nine o'clock-quite the right time of day for me, for, to my great joy, I found the overture to tea and coffee finished, and Miss Apollina Shewoff (the eldest daughter,) leading the way to the piano. I had scarcely got through the ceremony of a Don Guzman bow, ere I was surrounded. An old gentleman, whom I supposed to be the master of the house, for I never got introduced to him, came up to me, half inclined to be angry and half smiling, and just as he had got out the words, "Why, sir-you seem to have" -A good natured lady who stood near me, saved me from his reproof, by assuring him how delighted she was to find so fine a concert in preparation; but still I was doomed to encounter more enemies. "O you naughty man, for coming so late," said my friend Mrs. Chronometer. "Do you call this genuine time," added Mr. Pedler, and "I hope you have not incommoded yourself much Mr. Jerry," sarcastically lisped one of the Miss Shewoff's, while three or four of the children endeavoured to convince me how much they longed to hear my child scream. Thus was I suffering in a corner of the room, without a possibility, amid so many tongues, of uttering a syllable in my defence, until my friend, Dick Boldface, coming to me, relieved my embarrassment. Picture to yourself, Mr. Editor, the surprise I must have felt, when I found, that instead of a small party, I had to encounter, as generally is the case in professed meetings of the kind, a regular squeeze! My spirits now began to fail me, for, to tell the truth, I felt such a tremor come over me, that I scarcely knew whether to sneak suddenly out of the room and bolt, or "stand the nazard of the die." One moment I fancied my face was like the setting sun, but this I thought might be the brilliant reflection of the rosy drapery, or the imagination of the brain drawn from the effect of colouring of a brilliant rouged lady, who

stood beside me at another moment I imagined myself to look like a ghost, non obstante my dandification. Then I thought of the expose, if I should, through nervousness, lose my time, or overlook a pause! and lastly, I cursed myself for my rashness, in having ventured so far beyond my depth, like Cardinal Wolsey; I wished my violoncello would crack, or that I might not have two strings to my

bow.

As to fiddling, I knew it would be quite out of the question, for my fingers, although a very cold evening, were, to use a musical phrase, quite dampers. I took out my nicely folded cambric, at least fifty times, under the pretence of using it; but, in truth, it was to cool my fingers, which now began to exude at every pore. However, finding that I had no alternative, and that I really was wanted to take the violoncello part in the overture to the evening's entertainments, and not wishing to make myself more conspicuous than I had done, I put on an extra face, and walked with a very bold step through the crowd, which, as usual in music parties, was pressing as near as possible to the performers, to their very great annoyance, and the deprivation of the expansion of sound.

But to crown all my disasters, in my endeavour to do a bit of polite to an old lady, who had dropped her yard-and-ahalf-wide fan of the sixteenth century, in my rising to restore it to her, I hit my head against Snowball, the black footman's arms, who was, at the moment, retiring from the room with some beautiful empty china coffee cups and saucers, and nearly demolished the whole of them, but Apollo befriended me, for not less true than strange to say, no material damage was done.

(To be concluded next week.)

THE NEW STREET

(For the Mirror.) GREAT Scope has been given of late for architects, to exercise their judicious management in selecting ancient and pure examples in designing from Grecian models, and the Grecian doric order has evidently been brought into considerable notice lately. This beautiful order which is to be found only in Grecian designs, has been executed in various buildings with considerable effect: the New Street contains, in a great measure, a jumble of designs, containing neither taste nor classic skill from selection. Many have been copied from the ancient Roman examples, but ancients as well as moderns, had faults which, considering the age

we live in, we ought to have remedied altogether, or at any rate to have improved upon them. However, Suffolkstreet contains a building, which, without presuming, we may say, is a complete study of the chasteness of Grecian architecture. Much praise is due to Mr. Nash for his approval of this design, and more to the designers, Messrs. Taylor and Crecy; it is intended as a building for the reception of ancient models, casts, &c. and students; the ground story is occupied by a portico of the Grecian doric, having coupled antæ, the proportions, apparently from the temple of Theseus, at Athens; the upper story is a continuation of an ante throughout the front; in the centre is a window with a pediment-frieze architrave, &c. from the temple of Erectheus, at Athens, ornamented with pateras, as are also the ante; the ornaments are of terracotta, the whole surmounted by a bold cornice. From the same building, one thing ought not to pass unnoticed, that is, the trifling ballustrades over the portico, which look too much like the legs of chairs. Such is a brief notice of the elevation of the front next Suffolk-street. There is another front looking towards Charing Cross which I may notice in another article, equally worthy the attentive examination of young students in this noble science. C. D.

ON SELF-PAINTING. ADDRESSED TO THE LADIES.

(For the Mirror)

NATIVE artless beauty has long been the peculiar distinction of my fair fellowsubjects. Our poets have long sung their genuine lilies and roses, and our painters have often endeavoured, though in vain, to imitate them: beautiful nature mocked all their art, but I am now informed by persons of unquestioned truth and sagacity, and indeed I have observed but two many instances of it myself, that a great number of those inestimable originals, by a strange inversion of things, give the lie to the poets, and servilely copy their painters; degrading and disguising themselves into worse copies of bad copies of themselves. It is even whispered about town of that excellent artist, Mr. Listard, that he lately refused a certain young female (near Queen's Square) to draw her picture, alleging, that he never copied any body's work but his own and those of nature. I have taken great pains to inform myself of the growth and extent of this heinous crime of self-painting, and I am sorry to say, that I have found it to be extremely epidemical.

The present state of it, in its several degrees, appear to be thus the inferior class of women, who always ape their betters, make use of a sort of rough cast little superior to the common lath and plaster, which comes very cheap, and can easily be afforded. The class immediately above these, paint occasionally, either in size, oil, or tooth-powder, which at six-pence per foot square, comes within a moderate weekly allowance. The generality of women of fashion make use of a superfine stucco, or plaster of Paris highly glazed, which does not require a daily renewal, and will, with some slight occasional repairs, last as long as their curls, and stand a pretty strong collision. As for the transcendant and divine pearl powder, with an exquisite varnish superinduced to fix it, it is by no means common, but is reserved for ladies not only of the first rank, but of the most considerable fortunes; it being so very costly, that few ladies' pin-money can keep a face in it, as a face of condition ought to be kept; perhaps the same number of pearls whole might be more acceptable to some lovers, than in powder upon the lady's face. I would now fain undeceive my fair country-women of an error, which, gross as it is, they too fondly entertain. In order to do this effectually, and save, as far as I am able, the native carnations the eyes, teeth, breath, and the reputation of my beautiful fellow-subjects I here give notice, that, if after one calendar month from the date hereof, (I allow that time for the consumption of stock in hand) I shall receive any authentic testimonies (and I have my spies abroad) of the sophistication and adulteration of the fairest works of nature, I am resolved to publish at full length the names of the delinquents, which, I hope will be a sufficient check to those who attempt to supply themselves with that which nature has denied; but, I shall conclude this paper with a word or two of serious advice to all my readers of all sorts and sexes. Let us follow nature, our honest and faithful guide, and be upon our guard against the flattering delusions of art. Nature may be helped and improved, but will not be forced or changed. All attempts in direct opposition to her, are attended with ridicule; many with guilt. The woman to whom nature has denied beauty, in vain endeavours to make it by art; as the man to whom nature has denied wit, becomes ridiculous by the affectation of it: they both defeat their own purposes, and are in the case of a valetudinarian, who creates or increases his distemper by remedies, and dies of his immoderate desire to live.

S. R.

eventful day. She may take my word for it that the said sulkiness, which has some show of reason in it to day, is in the habit of visiting her pretty face oftener than it is called for if it were not so, she would not have had cause for it now.

But good Bishop Valentine is a pluralist, and holds another see besides that of London.

"All the air in his diocese,
And all the chirping choristers

And other birds are his parishioners;
He marries every year

The lyrique lark, and the grave whispering dove;
The sparrow, that neglects his life for love;
The household bird with the red stomacher;
He makes the blackbird speed as soon
As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon."
Let us be off to the country without
more ado ;-for who can stay in London
in the face of such epithets as these
that seem to compel us, with their sweet
magic, to go in search of the sounds and
sights that they characterise ;—
"The
lyric lark!"—Why a modern poet might
live for a whole season on that one epi-
thet!-Nay, there be those that have
lived on it for a longer time-perhaps
without knowing that it did not belong
to them! "The sparrow-that neglects
his life for love!" "The household
bird, with the red stomacher !"— That
a poet who could write in this manner,
for pages together, should be almost en-
tirely unknown to modern readers, (except
to those of a late number of the Retro-
spective Review,) would be somewhat
astonishing, if it were not for the con-
sideration that he is so well known to
modern writers! It would be doing both
parties justice if some one would point

out a few of the coincidences that occur between them. In the mean time, we shall be doing better in looking abroad for ourselves into that Nature to which he looked, and seeing what she offers worthy of particular observation in the course of this last month of Winter in the country, though it is the first in London. Our "now" in regard to the latter place finished on Saint Valentine's Day. Let it here begin on that day: for the first half offers nothing that can expressly distinguish it from its sister January.

Now, then, about the middle of the month, a strange commotion may be seen and heard among the winged creatures portending momentous matters. The lark is high up in the cold air before daylight, seeking for the unrisen sun; and his chosen mistress is listening to him down among the dank grass, with the dew still upon her unshaken wing. The bird with the red stomacher" has left

off, for a brief season, his low plaintive piping, which it must be confessed, was poured forth for his own exclusive satisfaction, and reckoning on his spruce looks and sparkling eyes, issues his quick peremptory love-call, in a most ungallant and husband-like manner. The sparrows, who have lately been sulking silently about from tree to tree, with ruffled plumes and drooping wings, now spruce themselves up till they do not look half their former size; and if it were not pairing-time, one might fancy that there was more of war than of love in their noisy squabblings. But the crouching forms, quivering wings, and murmuring bills, of yonder pair that have quitted for a moment the clamorous cabal, can indicate the movements of but one passion. Among the choristers, the only one, except the lark, who now finds leisure to practise his spring notes, is the thrush; and he not till towards the end of the month-nor then unless the hammer and the chaffinch may indeed season is mild and forward. The yellowoccasionally be heard towards the latter pleasant as they are, can scarcely as yet end; but their short interrupted notes, be called singing, but rather the talking of it :-for

"I shall not ask Jean Jaques Rosseau
If birds confabulate, or no;"

but shall determine at once that they do

at least if any dependance may be placed on eyes and ears. But let us leave the birds to themselves now:

"Sacred be love from sight, whate'er it is.' We shall have enough opportunities of observing all their other pretty ways hereafter.-New Monthly Magazine.

THE THREE BLIND TIPPLERS. THREE sightless inmates of the sky, Whose names were Justice---Fortune--Cupid Finding their public life on high

Somewhat monotonous and stupid,
Resolved one morning to unite

Their powers in an Alliance Holy
And purify the Earth, whose plight
They all agreed was melancholy.
Quoth Justice---Of the world below
I doubtless have the best idea,
Since in the Golden Age, you know
While, therefore, we on earth abide,
I ruled it jointly with Astræa ;

For fear our forces should be parted,
Let me be your perpetual guide:---
Agreed, nem. con. and off they started.

Love first, and Fortune next descends,
Then Justice, though awhile she tarried,
When Cupid cries---This fight, my friends,
Has made my throttle somewhat arid:
Beneath each wing, before our trip,
I popp❜d a golden vase of nectar,
And I for one should like a sip,
What says our worshipful director?

The proposition, 'twas decreed,

Redounded to the mover's glory, So down they sate upon the mead,

And plied the flagon con amore; But not reflecting that the draught

With air of earth was mix'd and muddled,
Before the second vase was quaff'd,
They all became completely fuddled.
Now reeling, wrangling, they proceed,
Each loudly backing his opinion,
And 'stead of letting Justice lead,

All struggle fiercely for dominion:
Whereat her sword in wrath she draws,
And throws it in her scales with fury,
Maintaining that the rightful cause
Requires no other judge and jury.
Fortune, purloining Cupid's darts,

Tips them with gold for sordid suitors
Making sad havoc in the hearts

Of matrimonial computers;
While Love on fortune's wheel apace

Plagues mortals with incessant changes,
Gives flying glimpses of his face,

Then presto! pass!---away he ranges.
Their pranks, their squabbles day by day
Gave censurers a better handle,
Till Jove impatient of their stay,

And anxious to arrest the scandal,
Bade Fortune---Justice---Love return;
But to atone for their miscarriage,
Lest men for substitutes should yearn,
He sent them down Luck, Law, and Marriage
New Monthly Magazine.

The Sketch Book.

No. XVI.

OBSOLETE CHARACTERS. THE OLD ENGLISH YEOMAN.-Harrison, in his Introduction to Holinshed's History of Great Britain, gives the following interesting definition of the substantial yeoman or farmer in Queen Elizabeth's days :

"This sort of people have a certaine preheminence, and more estimation than labourers and the common sort of artificers, and those commonlie live wealthilie, keepe good houses, and travell to get riches. They are also for the most part farmers to gentlemen, or at the least-wise artificers, and with grazing, frequenting of markets, and keeping of servants (not idle servants as the gentlemen doo, but such as get both their owne and part of their master's living), do come to great welth, that manie of them are able and doo buie the lands of unthriftie gentlemen, and often setting their sonnes to the schooles, to the Universities, and to the Ins of the court; or otherwise leaving them sufficient lands whereupon they may live without labour, doo make them by those means to become gentlemen: these were they that in times past made all France afraid, and albeit they be not called master, as gentlemen are, or Sir, as to Knights appertaineth, but onlie John and Thomas &c. yet have they

beene found to have doone_verie good service: and the Kings of England in foughten battles, were woont to remaine among them (who were their footmen), as the French Kings did amongst their horsemen; the Prince, thereby, shewing where his cheefe strength did consist."

THE FARMER'S WIFE.--The farmer's coadjutor in domestic economy-the English housewife, was a personage of no small consequence; for as Tusser, the rural poet, has observed

"Housekeeping and husbandry, if it be good,
Must love one another as cousines in blood:
The wife, too, must husband as well as the man,
Or farewell thy husbandry, doe what thou can."

"Next unto her holiness and sanctity of life," says Markham, "it is meet that our English housewife be a woman of great modesty and temperance, as well inwardly as outwardly; inwardly, as in her carriage and behaviour towards her husband, wherein she shall shun all violence of rage, passion, and humour, and outwardly courteous to her neighbours and dependents. Let her garments be comely and strong, made as well to preserve the health as to adorn the person, altogether without toyish garnishes, or the gloss of light colours, and as far from the vanity of new and fantastic fashions as near to the comely imitation of modest matrons. She must be watchful, diligent, witty, pleasant, constant in friendship, full of good neighbourhood," &c. Her other qualifications, he states, were to consist in an intimacy with domestic physic, with cookery, with the distillation of waters, the making and preserving of wines, making and dyeing of cloth, malting, brewing, baking, &c.

THE COUNTRY BOOR.-Bishop Earle has touched this homely subject with singular point and spirit.

"A plain country fellow is one that manures his ground well, but lets himself lye fallow and untilled. He has reason enough to do his business, and not enough to be idle or melancholy. He seems to have the punishment of Nebuchadnezzar, for his conversation is among beasts, and his tallons none of the shortest, only he eats not grass, because he loves not sallets. His hand guides the plough, and the plough his thoughts, and his ditch and landmark is the very mound of his meditations. He expostulates with his oxen very understandingly, and speaks gee and ree better than English. His religion is a part of his copyhold, which he takes from his landlord, and refers it wholly to his discretion; yet if he give him leave, he is a good christian to his power, that is, comes to church in his best clothes, and sits there with his neigh