POOR JACK. [Charles Dibdin, born in Southampton, 1745; died July, 1814. His name is still famous and popular as that of the writer of our most effective sea-songs. He was educated at Winchester, and intended for the church; but he adopted the stage as his profession. He became known as an actor, dramatist, and theatrical manager; but his reputation was made by his songs, of which he wrote nearly 1200. He also wrote forty-seven dramatic pieces and other works. An edition of the songs, illustrated by George Cruikshanks, was published in 1850.] Go patter to lubbers and swabs, d'ye see, 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like; A tight water-boat and good sea-room give me, And 'taint to a little I'll strike: The first of our society is a gentleman of Though the tempest top-gallant-masts smack smooth Worcestershire, of ancient descent, a baronet, should smite, And shiver each splinter of wood, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His great grandfather was inventor of that famous Clear the wreck, stow the yards, and bouse everything country-dance which is called after him. All tight, And under reef'd foresail we'll scud: Avast nor don't think me a milksop so soft To be taken for trifles aback; For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack. Why, I heard our good chaplain palaver one day And many fine things that proved clearly to me For, says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft I said to our Poll, for, d'ye see, she would cry, who know that shire are very well acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world only as he thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humour creates him no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his being unconfined to modes and forms makes him but the readier and more capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town he lives in Soho Square. It is said, he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger was what you call a fine gentleman, had often supped with my lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being ill-used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and a half; and Can't you see the world's wide, and there's room for us though, his temper being naturally jovial, he D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch All as one as a piece of the ship, at last got over it, he grew careless of himself and never dressed afterwards; he continues to 1 From the Spectator, which was supposed to be produced by a "Society of Gentlemen;" and it is notable that Sir Roger de Coverley, who was the most popular of its creations, is the first mentioned in the number devoted to the portraits of the members of the club. Addison has obtained more credit for his share in the creation of this admirable specimen of a good old English gentleman than has been allowed to Steele; but it is worth remembering that it is Steele who introduces the And with her brave the world without offering to flinch, knight; and Steele writes entirely of the man, whilst From the moment the anchor's a-trip. Addison writes much about his surroundings. year, and resolved to follow the steps of the most worthy of my ancestors who have inhabited this spot of earth before me, in all the methods of hospitality and good neighbourhood, for the sake of my fame; and in country sports and recreations, for the sake of my health. In my twenty-third year I was obliged to serve as sheriff of the county; and in my servants, officers, and whole equipage, indulged the wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he tells us, had been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. . . . He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful, gay, and hearty, keeps a good house in both town and country; a great lover of mankind; but there is such a mirthful cast in his behaviour, that he is rather beloved than esteemed. His tenants grow rich, his servants look satis-pleasure of a young man (who did not think fied, all the young women profess love to him, and the young men are glad of his company: When he comes into a house he calls the servants by their names, and talks all the way upstairs to a visit. I must not omit that Sir Roger is a justice of the Quorum; that he fills the chair at a quarter-session with great abilities, and three months ago gained universal applause by explaining a passage in the game-act. I mentioned a great affliction which my friend Sir Roger had met with in his youth; which was no less than a disappointment in love. It happened this evening that we fell into a very pleasing walk at a distance from his house: As soon as we came into it, "It is," quoth the good old man, looking round him with a smile, "very hard that any part of my land should be settled upon one who has used me so ill as the perverse widow did; and yet I am sure I could not see a sprig of any bough of this whole walk of trees, but I should reflect upon her and her severity. She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world. You are to know this was the place wherein I used to muse upon her; and by that custom I can never come into it, but the same tender sentiments revive in my mind, as if I had actually walked with that beautiful creature under these shades. I have been fool enough to carve her name on the bark of several of these trees; so unhappy is the condition of men in love, to attempt the removing of their passion by the methods which serve only to imprint it deeper. She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world." Here followed a profound silence; and I was not displeased to observe my friend falling so naturally into a discourse, which I had ever before taken notice he industriously avoided. After a very long pause he entered upon an account of this great circumstance in his life, with an air which I thought raised my idea of him above what I had ever had before; and gave me the picture of that cheerful mind of his, before it received that stroke which has ever since affected his words and actions. But he went on as follows: ill of his own person) in taking that public occasion of showing my figure and behaviour to advantage. You may easily imagine to yourself what appearance I made, who am pretty tall, rid well, and was very well dressed, at the head of a whole county, with music before me, a feather in my hat, and my horse well bitted. I can assure you I was not a little pleased with the kind looks and glances I had from all the balconies and windows as I rode to the hall where the assizes were held. But when I came there, a beautiful creature in a widow's habit sat in court to hear the event of a cause concerning her dower. This commanding creature (who was born for destruction of all who behold her) put on such a resignation in her countenance, and bore the whispers of all around the court with such a pretty uneasiness, I warrant you, and then recovered herself from one eye to another, 'till she was perfectly confused by meeting something so wistful in all she encountered, that at last, with a murrain to her, she cast her bewitching eye upon me. I no sooner met it, but I bowed like a great surprised booby; and knowing her cause to be the first which came on, I cried like a captivated calf as I was, "Make way for the defendant's witnesses.' "This sudden partiality made all the county immediately see the sheriff also was become a slave to the fine widow. During the time her cause was upon trial she behaved herself, I warrant you, with such a deep attention to her business, took opportunities to have little billets handed to her counsel, then would be in such a pretty confusion, occasioned, you must know, by acting before so much company, that not only I but the whole court was prejudiced in her favour; and all that the next heir to her husband had to urge was thought so groundless and frivolous, that when it came to her counsel to reply, there was not half so much said as every one besides in the court thought he could have urged to her advantage. "You must understand, sir, this perverse woman is one of those unaccountable creatures that secretly rejoice in the admiration of men, "I came to my estate in my twenty-second but indulge themselves in no further conse quences. Hence it is that she has ever had a train of admirers, and she removes from her slaves in town to those in the country, according to the seasons of the year. She is a reading lady, and far gone in the pleasures of friendship; she is always accompanied by a confidant, who is witness to her daily protestations against our sex, and consequently a bar to her first steps towards love, upon the strength of her own maxims and declarations. "However, I must needs say this accomplished mistress of mine has distinguished me above the rest, and has been known to declare Sir Roger de Coverley was the tamest and most human of all the brutes in the country. I was told she said so, by one who thought he rallied me; but upon the strength of this slender encouragement, of being thought least detestable, I made new liveries, new-paired my coach-horses, sent them all to town to be bitted, and taught to throw their legs well, and move all together, before I pretended to cross the country and wait upon her. If "As soon as I thought my retinue suitable to the character of my fortune and youth, I set out from hence to make my addresses. The particular skill of this lady has ever been to inflame your wishes, and yet command respect. To make her mistress of this art, she has a greater share of knowledge, wit, and good sense, than is usual, even among men of merit. Then she is beautiful beyond the race of women. you won't let her go on with a certain artifice with her eyes and the skill of beauty, she will arm herself with her real charms, and strike you with admiration instead of desire. It is certain that if you were to behold the whole woman, there is that dignity in her aspect, that composure in her motion, that complacency in her manner, that if her form makes you hope, her merit makes you fear. But then again, she is such a desperate scholar, that no country-gentleman can approach her without being a jest. | losopher in Europe could possibly make, she asked me whether she was so happy as to fall in with my sentiments on these important particulars. Her confidant sat by her, and upon my being in the last confusion and silence, this malicious aid of hers, turning to her, says, 'I am very glad to observe Sir Roger pauses upon this subject, and seems resolved to deliver all his sentiments upon the matter when he pleases to speak.' They both kept their countenances, and after I had sat half an hour meditating how to behave before such profound casuists, I rose up and took my leave. "Chance has since that time thrown me very often in her way, and she as often has directed a discourse to me which I do not understand. This barbarity has kept me ever at a distance from the most beautiful object my eyes ever beheld. It is thus also she deals with all mankind, and you must make love to her, as you would conquer the Sphinx, by posing her. But were she like other women, and that there were any talking to her, how constant must the pleasure of that man be who could converse with a creature- But after all, you may be sure her heart is fixed on some one or other; and yet I have been credibly informed; but who can believe half that is said! After she had done speaking to me, she put her hand to her bosom, and adjusted her tucker. Then she cast her eyes a little down upon my beholding her too earnestly. They say she sings excellently: her voice in her ordinary speech has something in it inexpressibly sweet. You must know I dined with her at a public table the day after I first saw her, and she helped me to some tansy in the eye of all the gentlemen in the country: she has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world. I can assure you, sir, were you to behold her, you would be in the same condition; for as her speech is music, her form is angelic. But I find I grow irregular while I am talking of her; but indeed it would be stupidity to be unconcerned at such perfection. Oh the excellent creature, she is as inimitable to all women as she is inaccessible to all men. "As I was going to tell you, when I came to her house I was admitted to her presence with great civility; at the same time she placed herself to be first seen by me in such an atti- I found my friend begin to rave, and insentude, as I think you call the posture of a pic-sibly led him towards the house, that we might ture, that she discovered new charms, and I be joined by some other company; and am at last came towards her with such an awe as convinced that the widow is the secret cause made me speechless. This she no sooner ob- of all that inconsistency which appears in some served but she made her advantage of it, and parts of my friend's discourse; though he has began a discourse to me concerning love and so much command of himself as not directly honour, as they both are followed by pretenders, to mention her, yet according to that of Marand the real votaries to them. When she had tial, which one knows not how to render in discussed these points in a discourse, which I English, Dum tacet hanc loquitur. I shall verily believe was as learned as the best phi-end this paper with that whole epigram, which represents with much humour my honest friend's condition: Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk, THE LONG-AGO. His [Baron Houghton, Richard Monckton Milnes, F.S.A., D.C.L., born 19th June, 1809. Poet, politician, and miscellaneous writer. Graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge; elected M. P. for Pontefract, 1837, and raised to the peerage 1863. Whilst giving earnest attention to politics and to many social questions, Lord Houghton has earned wide fame as a poet and biographer chief works are, Poems of Many Years; Poems Legendary and Historical: Palm Leaves; Letters and Literary Remains of John Keats, &c. One of his critics says: "Delicate fancy, warm sympathy with human suffering, and keen observation of the human heart characterize his poetical works."] Eyes which can but ill define Follow yon majestic train Down the slopes of old renown, As the heart of childhood brings Youthful Hope's religious fire, Many a growth of pain and care, On that deep-retiring shore Tombs where lonely love repines, Though the doom of swift decay Shocks the soul where life is strong, Though for frailer hearts the day Lingers sad and overlong, Still the weight will find a leaven, Still the spoiler's hand is slow, While the future has its heaven, And the past its Long-ago. SILVIA. Who is Silvia? What is she, The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; -From The Two Gentlemen of Verona. CHANET. [J. W. De Forest, a contributor to the principal American magazines, chiefly in prose, but occasionally in verse. He has written numerous short tales and sketches of adventure and travel. Amongst his more important works are, History of the Indians of Connecticut from the earliest known Period to 1850; Oriental Ac quaintance, a series of letters from Asia Minor; European Acquaintance, sketches of people in Europe, &c.] “What a singular odour!" soliloquized Miss Holeum, snuffing the air with a slight tremor of disgust about her nostrils. She said odour instead of smell, because she was a teacher of several years' standing in one of the common schools of New York, and had learned in the exercise of her profession to express herself with an elegance of the Johnsonian species. She was accustomed to remark to her scholars, "Before you speak, always consider not only your thoughts, but also the language in which you propose to give them utterance." She was at this moment ascending the third staircase of the cheap, plain, and even seedy lodging-house in which she had her parlour bedroom-kitchen-or, in other words, her one room in which she studied, slept, and did such small cooking as was needed for her tea and breakfast. In this simple fashion she had lived for years, not merely because her earnings were small, and not at all because she was stingy, but mainly because she was a noble, unselfish woman, who had it at heart to educate a youthful orphan cousin. "It is burning charcoal," she added, after an instant. "Can it be that some poor mortal is seeking his death?" School-teaching alone had not given her the wisdom to reach this suspicion. She was a reader of novels; she had an imagination, and a native longing after the unusual; she was capable of conceiving a suicide, and of conceiving herself as saving him. Where a practical, common-sense man would merely have smelt fire, this fanciful, impulsive woman scented a tragedy of the heart. We shall see which of these two characters best suited the exigency that was now agonizing in this bare and musty old lodging-house. The wildest imagination is sometimes the truest common-sense. "It may be that young foreigner," thought Janet Holeum. She ran up another flight of stairs, hurried along a musty, dusty passage, and stopped before a door marked by dirty fingers. Timorous and modest, she looked at it with hesitation as well as anxiety; but the charcoal fumes were stronger here, and began to make her sick and faint; she felt that she could not hesitate long. After rapping and receiving no answer, she put her mouth to the keyhole and called, also without effect. Oh dear! what shall I do?" she groaned, confident now that a tragedy was passing within, and looking about her vainly for help. She had already learned that this fifth story was unoccupied except by the pale, slovenly, haggard young foreigner, whose step she had frequently heard pacing to and fro for hours over her head. As she remembered that he was a man, and that she had never been introduced to him, she thought of running downstairs and summoning some other man to save him. But the poisonous air demanded instant action; she tried the lock unavailingly, and then flung herself desperately against the door; the miserable bolt-catch gave way, and she was within. Unable to breathe in the mephitic atmosphere of the room, she rushed across it, opened a window, and thrust her head out. Looking back from this position she saw something which made her shudder. There was a painter's easel; on the easel was a picture with its face turned from her; behind the easel, on the floor of one corner of the room, was a wretched bed, and on this, the chest and head concealed by the picture, lay the motionless form of a man. The moment Janet had drawn one long breath of the out-ofdoor air she hastened to this terrible corner. No time to look at the man-no leisure to query whether he were alive or dead-she lifted him by the shoulders, dragged him to the window, and seated him by it in a chair. Her only distinct consciousness as to his condition was that the temple which dropped against her cheek was not entirely cold. But the appearance of the suicide, as she held him up in the chair, was alarming. His face ash-coloured, his lips blue and contracted, his head drooping helplessly on one shoulder, he seemed to be already in another world. She scarcely noticed that he did not look to be more than twenty-five years of age; that his long, curling, yellow hair, although neglected, was beautiful; that his wasted and ghastly features were classic in outline. Two or three times she called loudly for assistance-"Help! Murder!" But outside there was only a wilderness of roofs; inside, the musty old lodginghouse seemed another desert. She was left alone with her awful question of death or life. Presently her enigma responded. The response was only a sigh, but it came from this side of the tomb it was the triumph of nature over |