The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 345, December 6, 1828

The oddity of some ideas of dancing is really ludicrous. The Cambro-Britains, in a very late period, used to be played out of church by a fiddle, and to form a dance in the church-yard at the end of the service. But the ideas which the Chinese have of dancing exceeds all others. When Commodore Anson was at Canton, the officers of the Centurion had a ball upon some court holiday: while they were dancing, a Chinese, who very quietly surveyed the operation, said, softly, to one of the party, "Why don't you let your servants do this for you?"

Fine Arts

SCHOOL OF PAINTING AT THE BRITISH INSTITUTION(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

I beg to present you with a brief notice of the School of Painting at the British Institution, Pall Mall; you may rely upon its correctness, as I have been extremely cautious in making my notes, and in ascertaining every particular relative to the subject.

The students at this excellent institution have, for several weeks, been arduously engaged in copying the fine pictures which were entrusted to the directors by his majesty, and the nobility, for that purpose. In general, the students have been very successful, and deserve much praise; I must, however, in my prescribed limits, only mention a few.

Vandyke's Duchess de St. Croix has been cleverly copied by Mr. Boden and Mr. Faulkner; the latter gentleman has well imitated the color and the beautiful finish of the original. Messrs. Frisk, Child, Howell and M'Call have likewise made clever copies of this chef d'oeuvre of art. Many bold efforts have been made to copy Hobbima's large Landscape; Mr. Laporte's is the most complete, though not quite spirited enough in the handling. The Spanish Gentleman, by Velasquez, has engaged the pencils of numerous artists, though they have not all been so successful as could have been wished; Messrs. Inskipp, Frisk, Morton and Child have produced the best fac similes. The Lime Kiln, by the younger Teniers, has been carefully studied by Mr. Gill, &c.; and Messrs. M'Call and Morton, have executed the finest studies from Innocent X., by Velasquez. The Embarkation, by Claude, is extremely well imitated in Mr. Cartwright's copy; and the Virgin and Child, which is one of Julio Romano's best works, has met with due attention from Mr. Farrier, and others. Mr. Novice has executed the only copy from DeHooge's fine picture—A Dutch Family preparing for a Walk; and Messrs. Foster and Earl display considerable talent in their copies from the Landscape and Cattle, by Cuyp. Other admirable works by Guido, Rubens, Bassan, Ruysdael, Vanderneer, and Canaletta, have met with a host of imitators, from whose talents we may anticipate, at no distant period, pictorial excellency of the first order. I should discover a want of gallantry, and, indeed, be most unjust, were I not to say that the ladies, in nearly all their undertakings, have exerted their utmost to excel; those especially, who have executed copies in water colours deserve the highest recommendation.

G.W.N.

The Anecdote Gallery

Thaxted Highwaymen(For the Mirror.)

The following incident led to the breaking up and dispersion of a gang of desperate highwaymen, denominated the Thaxted gang, who about sixty years ago used to infest the roads in the neighbourhood of Dunmow, Thaxted, and the adjacent towns and villages:—

An opulent farmer of Thaxted, being one day at Dunmow market, received a considerable sum of money, the produce of grain and other marketable articles, which he had that day disposed of; and going to the inn where he had left his horse, he ordered it to be saddled directly for the purpose of returning home. In those times every tradesman, salesman and a greater part of the publicans and innkeepers knew what money each other received on a market day. The innkeeper at whose house the farmer was in the habit of putting up at, said to him, "Why you are not going home to-night, are you, with all that money about you? You will stand a chance of getting a knock on the head."—"Let them knock away," answered the farmer. "I have never yet been robbed, nor do I think it likely I shall be to-night; so, Robert, get my horse ready," calling to the hostler. "Well, but have you any weapons of defence?" inquired the publican.—"No, nor none I want," responded the farmer. The innkeeper pressed him to take a pair of holster pistols; saying, "he might find them handy;" and after a great deal of persuasion, he agreed to take one, the publican first loading and charging it with ball. The farmer put the pistol in his great coat pocket, and was on the point of departure when he recollected that he had to get a pound of tea at a grocer's shop in the town, a few doors from the inn. He instantly ran to the shop for the tea, and while the grocer was serving him he made the same remark as the innkeeper had done respecting his going home with so considerable a sum as he knew the farmer had about him. The farmer made answer, "I am going home to-night, but our friend the publican, has lent me a pistol; and if any one interrupts me, I intend to blow his brains out."—"Do you know," said the grocer, "I do not like that fellow. Will you let me look at the pistol if you have it with you."—"O yes, look at it if you like. I never fired a pistol in my life; however, should I be stopped, I think I could manage it." The grocer took the pistol; drew the charge; and found, to the great surprise of the farmer, it was only loaded with horse-dung, and a large bullet at the top. "I thought he was a rascal, and this confirms it." said the grocer. "Here is evidently a plot; now leave your money with me; we will load this pistol properly, and you can, if you like, proceed on your journey: it may be the means of detecting some one."

The farmer left his money in the hands of the grocer; went back to the inn; mounted his horse, and rode off on his journey. About a mile from Dunmow, he was stopped by a fellow, well mounted, who instantly demanded his money. "I have not got any," replied the farmer, "but I have a pistol, with which, if you do not instantly allow me to pass on my way home, I will blow your brains out." "You have got money—and as to the pistol, you may blow away—blow away, my fine fellow," said the chuckling highwayman. The farmer instantly fired, and his assailant fell off his horse to the ground with a groan. The farmer galloped back to the inn, and inquired of the hostler where his master was. "He has been gone out, on horseback, about a quarter of an hour," the hostler replied. "Well, I will tell you what," said the farmer, "you may find your master, with his brains blown out, in the road," describing the place where he had had the encounter with the innkeeper.

From this time a number of persons resident in and about Thaxted and Dunmow, left their places of abode, which circumstance created some surprise among the remaining inhabitants; but it was afterwards ascertained they formed the desperate gang that had so long and successfully robbed, and sometimes murdered, their unsuspecting neighbours and the different travellers who had occasion to pass the roads on which these marauders were stationed.

J.W.B.

Manners & Customs of all Nations

(For the Mirror.)

WISE MEN OF GOTHAM

The village of Gotham, about seven miles from Nottingham, has been rendered noted by the common proverb of "The Wise Men of Gotham." It is observable that a custom has prevailed among many nations of stigmatizing the inhabitants of some particular spot as remarkable for stupidity. This opprobrious district among the Asiatics was Phrygia. Among the Thracians, Abdera; among the Greeks, Boeotia; in England it is Gotham. Of the Gothamites ironically called The Wise Men of Gotham, many ridiculous stories are traditionally told, particularly, that often having heard the cuckoo but never seen her, they hedged in a bush from whence her note seemed to proceed, so that being confined within so small a compass, they might at length satisfy their curiosity; and at a place called Court Hill, in this parish, is a bush called Cuckoo Bush.

HALBERT H.

MALLARD NIGHT

At All Souls' College, Oxford, the Mallard Night is celebrated annually on the 14th of January, in remembrance of a very singular circumstance, viz. the discovery of a live and excessively large mallard, or drake, supposed to have long ranged in a drain or sewer of considerable depth. The only probable conjecture respecting its extraordinary situation was, that it had fallen when young through the bars or grating at the entrance of the drain, (which was of sufficient width to receive it if very young,) but was found at a great distance from it, on digging for the foundation of the college, (A.D. 1437.) A very humorous account of this event was published some years ago by Dr. Buckler, subwarden, from a manuscript of Thomas Walsingham, the historian, and monk of St. Alban's. It is the cause of much mirth, for on the day, and in remembrance of the mallard, many an old and merry song is sung.

E.T.S.

WELSH MARRIAGES

It appears to me a matter of no small surprise that so economical a people as the English should not have adopted such a plan as the following by the lower classes of the Welsh. When a young couple intend offering themselves at the Temple of Hymen, if they are very poor, they generally send a man, called the bidder, round to their acquaintance and friends, who invites them, sometimes in rhyme, to the wedding; but if they can afford it, they issue circulars. The following is a copy of one:—

"June 27, 1827.

"As we intend to enter the matrimonial state on Thursday, the 19th day of July next, we are encouraged by our friends to make a bidding on the occasion, the same day, at the Butchers' Arms, Carmarthen, when and where the favour of your good and agreeable company is humbly solicited; and whatever donation you may be pleased to confer on us then, will be thankfully received, warmly acknowledged, and cheerfully repaid whenever called for on a similar occasion.

"By your most obedient servants,

"JOHN JONES.

"MARY EVANS."

The persons so invited (if they accept the invitation) generally form part of the procession to church, and are preceded by a harper or fiddler. After the nuptial knot is tied, they veer their course to the public-house mentioned in the bills, where they partake, not of a sumptuous banquet, but of the simple, though not the worst, fare of bread and cheese and kisses, at the expense of the new married folks. After this, a large plate is placed on the table in the room, and they proceed to receive the money which each person may be disposed to give, whilst one keeps account of the sum and names. They frequently receive 50l., and sometimes, though seldom, 100l.; and they have the privilege (by paying the duty) of selling the ale to the persons assembled. It is to be observed, that the money so deposited cannot be reclaimed by the persons who gave it until a similar occasion presents itself in their family. By this means the new married couple are enabled to procure furniture, and other things requisite for them.

W.H.

CURIOUS FOUNDATION

At Spinney, in Cambridgeshire, was an abbey founded in the reign of Henry III. near which was a church, built by Lady Mary Bassingburne, and given to the Abbey of Spinney, on condition that the monks should support seven aged men with the following allowance, viz. one farthing loaf, one herring, and one pennyworth of ale per day, and two hundred dry turves, one pair of shoes, one woollen garment, and three ells of linen every year. Henry Cromwell, second son of Oliver Cromwell, is buried here.

HALBERT H.

THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

ADVENTURES OF ALLAN-A-SOP

By Sir Walter Scott, Bart

The chief of the clan, MacLean of Duart, in the Isle of Mull, had an intrigue with a beautiful young woman of his own clan, who bore a son to him. In consequence of the child's being, by some accident, born in a barn, he received the name of Allan-a-Sop, or Allan of the Straw, by which he was distinguished from others of his clan. As his father and mother were not married, Allan was of course a bastard or natural son, and had no inheritance to look for, save that which he might win for himself.

But the beauty of the boy's mother having captivated a man of rank in the clan, called MacLean of Torloisk, he married her, and took her to reside with him at his castle of Torloisk, situated on the shores of the Sound, or small strait of the sea, which divides the smaller island of Ulva from that of Mull. Allan-a-Sop paid his mother frequent visits at her new residence, and she was naturally glad to see the poor boy, both from affection, and on account of his personal strength and beauty, which distinguished him above other youths of his age. But she was obliged to confer marks of her attachment on him as privately as she could, for Allan's visits were by no means so acceptable to her husband as to herself. Indeed, Torloisk liked so little to see the lad, that he determined to put some affront on him, which should prevent his returning to the castle for some time. An opportunity for executing his purpose soon occurred.

The lady one morning, looking from the window, saw her son coming wandering down the hill, and hastened to put a girdle cake upon the fire, that he might have hot bread to his breakfast. Something called her out of the apartment after making this preparation, and her husband entering at the same time, saw at once what she had been about, and determined to give the boy such a reception as should disgust him for the future. He snatched the cake from the girdle, thrust it into his step-son's hands, which he forcibly closed on the scalding bread, saying, "Here, Allan—here is a cake which your mother has got ready for your breakfast." Allan's hands were severely burnt; and, being a sharp-witted and proud boy, he resented this mark of his step-father's ill-will, and came not again to Torloisk.

At this time the western seas were covered with the vessels of pirates, who, not unlike the sea-kings of Denmark at an early period, sometimes settled and made conquests on the islands. Allan-a-Sop was young, strong, and brave to desperation. He entered as a mariner on board of one of these ships, and in process of time obtained the command, first of one galley, then of a small flotilla, with which he sailed round the seas and collected considerable plunder, until his name became both feared and famous. At length he proposed to himself to pay a visit to his mother, whom he had not seen for many years; and setting sail for this purpose, he anchored one morning in the Sound of Ulva, and in front of the house of Torloisk. His mother was dead, but his stepfather, to whom he was now an object of fear as he had been formerly of aversion, hastened to the shore to receive his formidable son-in-law, with great affectation of kindness and interest in his prosperity; while Allan-a-Sop, who, though very rough and hasty, does not appear to have been sullen or vindictive, seemed to take his kind reception in good part.

The crafty old man succeeded so well, as he thought, in securing Allan's friendship, and in obliterating all recollections of the former affront put on him, that he began to think it possible to employ him in executing his private revenge upon MacKinnon of Ulva, with whom, as was usual between such neighbours, he had some feud. With this purpose, he offered what he called the following good advice to his son-in-law:—"My dear Allan, you have now wandered over the seas long enough; it is time you should have some footing upon land, a castle to protect yourself in winter, a village and cattle for your men, and a harbour to lay up your galleys. Now, here is the island of Ulva, near at hand, which lies ready for your occupation, and it will cost you no trouble, save that of putting to death the present proprietor, the Laird of MacKinnon, a useless old carle, who has cumbered the world long enough."

Allan-a-Sop thanked his stepfather for so happy a suggestion, which he declared he would put in execution forthwith. Accordingly, setting sail the next morning, he appeared before MacKinnon's house an hour before noon. The old chief of Ulva was much alarmed at the menacing apparition of so many galleys, and his anxiety was not lessened by the news, that they were commanded by the redoubted Allan-a-Sop. Having no effectual means of resistance, MacKinnon, who was a man of shrewd sense, saw no alternative save that of receiving the invaders, whatever might be their purpose, with all outward demonstrations of joy and satisfaction. He caused immediate preparations to be made for a banquet as splendid as circumstances admitted, hastened down to the shore to meet the rover, and welcomed him to Ulva with such an appearance of sincerity, that the pirate found it impossible to pick any quarrel which might afford a pretence for executing the violent purpose which he had been led to meditate.

They feasted together the whole day; and in the evening, as Allan-a-Sop was about to retire to his ships, he thanked the Laird of MacKinnon for his entertainment, but remarked, with a sigh, that it had cost him very dear. "How can that be" said MacKinnon, "when I bestowed this entertainment upon you in free good-will?"—"It is true, my friend," replied the pirate, "but then it has quite disconcerted the purpose for which I came hither; which was to put you to death, my good friend, and seize upon your house and island, and so settle myself in the world. It would have been very convenient, this island, but your friendly reception has rendered it impossible for me to execute my purpose; so that I must be a wanderer on the seas for some time longer." Whatever MacKinnon felt at hearing that he had been so near to destruction, he took care to show no emotion save surprise, and replied to his visiter,—"My dear Allan, who was it that put into your mind so unkind a purpose towards your old friend; for I am sure it never arose from your own generous nature? It must have been your father-in-law, old Torloisk, who made such an indifferent husband to your mother, and such an unfriendly stepfather to you when you were a helpless boy; but now, when he sees you a bold and powerful leader, he desires to make a quarrel betwixt you and those who were the friends of your youth. If you consider this matter rightly, Allan, you will see that the estate and harbour of Torloisk lie as conveniently for you as those of Ulva, and that, if you are to make a settlement by force, it is much better it should be at the expense of the old churl, who never showed you kindness or countenance, than at that of a friend like me, who always loved and honoured you."

Allan-a-Sop was struck with the justice of this reasoning; and the old offence of his scalded fingers was suddenly recalled to his mind. "It is very true what you say, MacKinnon," he replied, "and, besides, I have not forgotten what a hot breakfast my father-in-law treated me to one morning. Farewell for the present; you shall soon hear news of me from the other side of the Sound." Having said thus much, the pirate got on board, and commanding his men to unmoor the galleys, sailed back to Torloisk, and prepared to land in arms. His father-in-law hastened to meet him, in expectation to hear of the death of his enemy, MacKinnon. But Allan greeted him in a very different manner from what he expected. "You hoary old traitor," he said, "you instigated my simple good-nature to murder a better man than yourself. But have you forgotten how you scorched my fingers twenty years ago, with a burning cake? The day is come that that breakfast must be paid for." So saying, he dashed out his father-in-law's brains with a battle-axe, took possession of his castle and property, and established there a distinguished branch of the clan of MacLean.—Tales of a Grandfather—Second Series.

ADVANTAGES OF A GOOD HEART,

A Fragment from the "Disowned," by the author of "Pelham."

"The next day, Sir Christopher Findlater called on Clarence. 'Let us lounge into the park,' said he. 'With pleasure,' replied Clarence; and into the park they lounged. By the way they met a crowd, who were hurrying a man to prison. The good-hearted Sir Christopher stopped—'Who is that poor fellow?' said he. 'It is the celebrated'—(in England all criminals are celebrated. Thurtell was a hero, Thistlewood a patriot, and Fauntleroy was discovered to be exactly like Bonaparte)—'it is the celebrated robber, John Jefferies, who broke into Mrs. Wilson's house, and cut the throats of herself and her husband, wounded the maid-servant, and split the child's skull with the poker.' * * * 'John Jefferies!' exclaimed the baronet, 'let us come away.' 'Linden,' continued Sir Christopher, 'that fellow was my servant once. He robbed me to some considerable extent. I caught him. He appealed to my heart, and you know, my dear fellow, that was irresistible, so I let him off. Who could have thought he would have turned out so?' And the baronet proceeded to eulogize his own good nature, by which it is just necessary to remark, that one miscreant had been saved for a few years from transportation in order to rob and murder ad libitum, and having fulfilled the office of a common pest, to suffer on the gallows at last. What a fine thing it is to have a good heart! Both our gentlemen now sunk into a reverie, from which they were awakened, at the entrance of the park, by a young man in rags, who, with a piteous tone, supplicated charity. Clarence, who to his honour be it spoken, spent an allotted and considerable part of his income in judicious and laborious benevolence, had read a little of political morals, then beginning to be understood, and walked on. The good-hearted baronet put his hand in his pocket, and gave the beggar half-a-guinea, by which a young, strong man, who had only just commenced the trade, was confirmed in his imposition for the rest of his life; and instead of the useful support, became the pernicious incumbrance of society. Sir Christopher had now recovered his spirits. 'What's like a good action?' said he to Clarence, with a swelling breast. The park was crowded to excess; our loungers were joined by Lord St. George. His lordship was a staunch Tory. He could not endure Wilkes, liberty, or general education. He launched out against the enlightenment of domestics. 'What has made you so bitter?' said Sir Christopher. 'My valet!' cried Lord St. George; 'he has invented a new toasting-fork; is going to take out a patent, make his fortune, and leave me; that's what I call ingratitude, Sir Christopher; for I ordered his wages to be raised five pounds but last year.' 'It was very ungrateful,' said the ironical Clarence. 'Very!' reiterated the good-hearted Sir Christopher. 'You cannot recommend me a valet, Findlater,' renewed his lordship; 'a good, honest, sensible fellow, who can neither read nor write?' 'N—o—o—that is to say, yes! I can; my old servant, Collard, is out of place, and is as ignorant as—as—' 'I—or you are,' said Lord St. George, with a laugh. 'Precisely,' replied the baronet. 'Well, then, I take your recommendation: send him to me to-morrow at twelve.' 'I will,' said Sir Christopher. 'My dear Findlater,' cried Clarence, when Lord St. George was gone, 'did you not tell me some time ago, that Collard was a great rascal, and closely lie with Jefferies? and now you recommend him to Lord St. George!' 'Hush, hush, hush!' said the baronet; 'he was a great rogue, to be sure; but poor fellow, he came to me yesterday with tears in his eyes, and said he should starve if I would not give him a character; so what could I do?' 'At least, tell Lord St. George the truth,' observed Clarence. 'But then Lord St. George would not take him!' rejoined the good-hearted Sir Christopher, with forcible naiveté. 'No, no, Linden, we must not be so hard-hearted; we must forgive and forget;' and so saying, the baronet threw out his chest, with the conscious exultation of a man who has uttered a noble sentiment. The moral of this little history is, that Lord St. George, having been pillaged 'through thick and thin,' as the proverb has it, for two years, at last missed a gold watch, and Monsieur Collard finished his career, as his exemplary tutor, Mr. John Jefferies, had done before him. Ah! what a fine thing it is to have a good heart. But, to return, just as our wanderers had arrived at the further end of the park, Lady Westborough and her daughter passed them. Clarence excusing himself to his friend, hastened towards them, and was soon occupied in saying the prettiest things in the world to the prettiest person, at least in his eyes; while Sir Christopher, having done as much mischief as a good heart well can do in a walk of an hour, returned home to write a long letter to his mother, against 'learning and all such nonsense, which only served to blunt the affections and harden the heart.' 'Admirable young man!' cried the mother, with tears in her eyes; 'a good heart is better than all the heads in the world.' Amen!"