Part 2

Rover is now about six years old. He was born half a year before our eldest girl; and is accordingly looked upon as a kind of elder brother by the children. He is a small, beautiful liver-coloured spaniel, but not one of your goggle-eyed Blenheim breed. He is none of your lap dogs. No, Rover has a soul above that. You may make him your friend, but he scorns to be a pet. No one can see him without admiring him, and no one can know him without loving him. He is as regularly inquired after as any other member of the family; for who that has ever known Rover can forget him? He has an instinctive perception of his master's friends, to whom he metes out his caresses in the proportion of their attachment to the chief object of his affections. When I return from an absence, or when he meets an old friend of mine, or of his own (which is the same thing to him) his ecstacy is unbounded; he tears and curvets about the room as if mad; and if out of doors, he makes the welkin ring with his clear and joyous note. When he sees a young person in company he immediately selects him for a play fellow. He fetches a stick, coaxes him out of the house, drops it at his feet; then retiring backwards, barking, plainly indicates his desire to have it thrown for him. He is never tired of his work. Indeed, I fear poor fellow, that his teeth, which already show signs of premature decay, have suffered from the diversion. But though Rover has a soul for fun, yet he is a game dog too. There is not a better cocker in England. In fact he delights in sport of every kind, and if he cannot have it with me, he will have it on his own account. He frequently decoys the greyhounds out and finds hares for them. Indeed he has done me some injury in this way, for if he can find a pointer loose, he will, if possible, seduce him from his duty, and take him off upon some lawless excursion; and it is not till after an hour's whistling and hallooing that I see the truants sneaking round to the back door, panting and smoking, with their tails knitted up between their legs, and their long dripping tongues depending from their watery mouths--_he_ the most bare-faced caitiff of the whole. In general, however, he will have nothing to say to the canine species, for notwithstanding the classification of Buffon, he considers he has a prescriptive right to associate with man. He is, in fact, rather cross with other dogs; but with children he is quite at home, doubtless reckoning himself about on a level with them in the scale of rational beings. Every boy in the village knows his name, and I often catch him in the street with a posse of little, dirty urchins playing around him. But he is not quite satisfied with this kind of company; for, if taking a walk with any of the family, he will only just acknowledge his plebeian play-fellow with a simple shake of the tail, equivalent to the distant nod which a patrician school-boy bestows on the town-boy school-fellow whom he chances to meet when in company with his aristocratical relations. The only approach to bad feeling that I ever discovered in Rover is a slight disposition to jealousy; but this in him is more a virtue than a vice; for it springs entirely from affection, and has nothing mean or malicious in it, one instance will suffice to show how he expresses this feeling. One day a little stray dog attached himself to me and followed me home; I took him into the house and had him fed, intending to keep him until I could discover the owner. For this act of kindness the dog expressed thanks in the usual way. Rover, although used to play the truant, from the moment the little stranger entered the premises, never quitted us till he saw him fairly off. His manner towards us became more ingratiating than usual, and he seemed desirous, by his assiduities and attentions, to show us, that we stood in need of no other favourite or companion. But at the same time he showed no animosity whatever towards his supposed rival. Here was reason and refinement too. Besides the friends whom he meets in my house, Rover also forms attachments of his own, in which he shows a great discrimination. It is not every one who offers him a bone that he will trust as a friend. He has one or two intimate acquaintances in the village whom he regularly visits, and where in case of any remissness on the part of the cook, he is sure to find a plate of meat. Rover is a most feeling, sweet dispositioned dog--one instance of his affection and kindheartedness I cannot omit. He had formed an attachment to a labourer, who worked about my garden, and would frequently follow him to his home, where he was caressed by the wife and children. It happened that the poor wife was taken ill and died. The husband was seriously afflicted, and showed a feeling above the common. At this time I observed that Rover had quite lost his spirits, and appeared to pine. Seeing him in this state one day, when in company with the widowed labourer, and thinking in some measure to divert the poor fellow's thoughts from his own sorrows, I remarked to him the state that Rover was in, and asked him if he could guess the cause. "He is fretting after poor Peggy," was his reply, giving vent at the same time to a flood of tears.

JAMES HOGG.

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NOTES OF A READER.

OLD DANCING.

An "Old Subscriber," who loves a friend and a jest's prosperity, has sent us a few leaves of "The Dancing Master," printed in 1728, which form a curious contrast with Mr. Lindsay's elegant treatise, printed at Mr. Clowes's _musical_ office. What will some of the quadrillers say to the following exquisite morsel of dancing, entitled, "The Old Maid in Tears?"--"Longways for as many as will".--(then the notes, and the following instructions:)--"Note: Each strain is to be play'd twice ov'er.--The first wo. holds her handkerchief on her face, and goes on the outside, below the 3d wo. and comes up the middle to her place; first man follows her (at the same time pointing and smiling at her) up to his place. First man do the same, only he beckons his wo. to him. First woman makes a motion of drying first one eye, then the other, and claps her hands one after another on her sides, (the first man looks surprizingly at her at the same time,) and turn her partner. First cu. move with two slow steps down the middle and back again. The first cu. sett and cast off."

As we love to keep up the dance, if we are not leading the reader a dance, we give _A Dance in Hoops_, as described in a fashionable novel, just published:--

When the whole party was put in motion, but little trace of a regular dance remained; all was a perfect maze, and the _cutting_ in and out (as the fraternity of the whip would phrase it) of these cumbrous machines presented to the mind only the figure of a most formidable affray.

The nearest assimilation to this strange exhibition of the dance in full career, at all familiar to our minds, is the prancing of the basket-horses in Mr. Peake's humorous farce of _Quadrupeds_.

An entertaining variety of appearance arose also from the conformity of the steps to the diversified measure of the tune. The jig measure, which corresponds to the _canter_ in a horse's paces, produced a strong bounding up and down of the hoop--and the gavotte measure, which corresponds to the short trot, produced a tremulous and agitated motion. The numerous ornaments, also, with which the hoops were bespread and decorated--the festoons--the tassels--the rich embroidery--all of a most _catching_ and _taking_ nature, every now and then affectionately hitched together in unpremeditated and close embrace. To the parties in action, it is not difficult to suppose these combinations might prove something short of perfectly agreeable, more especially, as on such occasions as these, some of the fair daughters of our courtly belles were undergoing the awful ordeal of a first ball-room appearance, on whom these contingencies would inflict ten-fold embarrassment.--_The Ball, or a Glance at Almack's in 1829._

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FRENCH PAINTINGS.

General le Jeune has added a new picture to his collection of battle paintings, exhibiting at the Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly. It represents one of the general's perilous adventures in the Peninsular War, and is a vigorous addition to these admirable productions of the French school. The whole series will be found noticed at page 212 of our vol. xi.

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FLOWERS ON THE ALPS.

The flowers of the mountains--they must not be forgotten. It is worth a botanist's while to traverse all these high passes; nay, it is worth the while of a painter, or any one who delights to look upon graceful flowers, or lovely hues, to pay a visit to these little wild nymphs of Flora, at their homes in the mountains of St. Bernard. We are speaking now, generally, of what may be seen throughout the whole of the route, from Moutier, by the Little St. Bernard, to Aosta,--and thence again to Martigny. There is no flower so small, so beautiful, so splendid in colour, but its equal may be met with in these sequestered places. The tenaciousness of flowers is not known; their hardihood is not sufficiently admired. Wherever there is a handful of earth, there also is a patch of wild-flowers. If there be a crevice in the rock, sufficient to thrust in the edge of a knife, there will the winds carry a few grains of dust, and there straight up springs a flower. In the lower parts of the Alps, they cover the earth with beauty. Thousands, and tens of thousands, blue, and yellow, and pink, and violet, and white, of every shadow and every form, are to be seen, vying with each other, and eclipsing every thing besides. Midway they meet you again, sometimes fragrant, and always lovely; and in the topmost places, where the larch, and the pine, and the rhododendron (the last living shrub) are no longer to be seen, where you are just about to tread upon the limit of perpetual snow, there still peep up and blossom the "Forget me not," the Alpine ranunculus, and the white and blue gentian, the last of which displays, even in this frore air, a blue of such intense and splendid colour, as can scarcely be surpassed by the heavens themselves. It is impossible not to be affected at thus meeting with these little unsheltered things, at the edge of eternal barrenness. They are the last gifts of beneficent, abundant Nature. Thus far she has struggled and striven, vanquishing rocks and opposing elements, and sowing here a forest of larches, and there a wood of pines, a clump of rhododendrons, a patch of withered herbage, and, lastly, a bright blue flower. Like some mild conqueror, who carries gifts and civilization into a savage country, but is compelled to stop somewhere at last, she seems determined that her parting present shall also be the most beautiful. This is the limit of her sway. Here, where she has cast down these lovely landmarks, her empire ceases. Beyond, rule the ice and the storm!--_New Monthly Magazine._

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THE COMPANION TO THE ALMANAC.

This is the age of utility, and the little volume published under the above title is altogether characteristic of the age. Its contents are calculated to feed and foster the spirit of inquiry which is abroad. People are beginning to find they are not so wise as they had hitherto conceived themselves to be, or rather, that their knowledge on every-day subjects is very scanty. We are therefore pleased to see in the present "Companion" a popular paper on Comets; a series of attractive Observations of a Naturalist; papers on the Management of Children, Clothing, Economy in the Use of Bread and Flour, and a concise account of Public Improvements during the year. All these are matters of interest to every house and family in the empire. There is, besides, an abundance of Parliamentary papers, judiciously abridged, from which the reader may obtain more information than by passing six months in "both your Houses," or reading a session of debates. The Table of Discoveries is likewise a valuable feature; and the Chronological Table of European Monarchs is almost a counterpart of a "Regal Tablet" sent to us, some weeks since, for the MIRROR, and promised for insertion. There is, however, one feature missing, which we noticed in the "Companion" of last year, and we cannot but think that, to make room for its introduction, some of the parliamentary matter in the present volume might have been spared. The editor will be aware of our disinterestedness in making this suggestion, and we hope will give us credit accordingly.

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FLUTE PLAYING.

"Will you play upon this pipe?"

"My Lord, I cannot." So say we; but some novel instruction on the subject may not be unacceptable to our piping friends. We recommend to them "The Elements of Flute-playing, according to the most approved principles of Fingering," by Thomas Lindsay, as containing more practical and preceptive information than is usually to be met with in such works. The advantage in the present treatise arises out of one of the many recent improvements in the art of printing, viz., the adoption of movable types for printing music, instead of by engraved pewter plates; which method enables the instructor to amplify his precepts, or didactic portion of his work, and thus simplify them to the pupil. According, in Mr. Lindsay's treatise, we have upwards of forty pages of elementary instructions, definitions, and concise treatises, copiously interspersed with musical illustrations; whereas the engraved treatises are generally meagre in their instructions, from the difficulty of punching text illustrations. The article on _accentuation_ is, we are told, the first successful attempt in any elementary work on the Flute, to define this important subject. It is written in a lucid and popular style, and is so attractive, that did our room allow, we might be induced to insert part of it. Appended to the treatise are thirty pages of Duettinos and Exercises, and altogether the work, (of which the present is Part I.,) is well worth the attention of such as study Flute-playing, which, as Mr. L. observes, is "one of those elegant and delightful recreations, which constitutes, at once, the grace and the solace of domestic life."

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The sweetest flowers their odours shed In silence and alone; And Wisdom's hidden fount is fed By minds to fame unknown.

_Bernard Barton._

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CHANGES OF INSECTS.

Insects are strikingly distinguished from other animals, by a succession of changes in their organization and forms, and by their incapacity of propagating before their last metamorphosis, which, in most of them, takes place shortly before their death. Each of these transformations is designated by so many terms, that it may not be useless to observe to the reader, who has not previously paid attention to the subject, that _larva, caterpillar, grub, maggot_, or _worm_, is the first state of the insect on issuing from the egg; that _pupa, aurelia, chrysalis_, or _nympha_ are the names by which the second metamorphosis is designated, and that the last stage, when the insect assumes the appearance of a butterfly, is called the _perfect state_.--_North American Review._

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"LITTLE SONGS FOR LITTLE SINGERS."

The little folks will soon have a microcosm--a world of their own. The other day we noticed the "Boy's _Own_ Book," and the girls are promised a match volume: children, too, have their own _camerae obscurae_; there are the Cosmoramas at the Bazaar, as great in their way as Mr. Hornor's Panorama at the Colosseum; besides half a dozen Juvenile Annuals, in which all the literary children of larger growth write. At our theatres, operas are sung by children, and the pantomimes are full of juvenile fun. In short, every thing can be had adapted to all ages; till we begin to think it is once a world and twice a little world. But we have omitted the pretty little productions named at the head of this article. They consist of seven little songs for little people, set to music on small-sized paper, so that the little singer may hold the song after the orchestra fashion, without hiding her smiles. 1. The Little Fish, harmonized from _Nursery Rhymes_; 2. The Little Robin; 3. The Little Spider and his Wife, from _Original Poems_; 4. The Little Star, from _Nursery Rhymes_; 5. A Summer Evening, from the _Infant Minstrel_; 6. Come Away, Come Away, to the air of the Swiss Boy, by Mr. Green, the publisher; and, 7. The Little Lady Bird:--

Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home, The field-mouse is gone to her nest, The daisies have shut up their sleepy red eyes, And the bees and the birds are at rest. Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home, The glow-worm is lighting his lamp, The dew's falling fast, and your fine speckled wings Will be wet with the close-clinging damp. Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away home, The fairy bells tinkle afar; Make haste, or they'll catch ye, and harness ye fast, With a cobweb, to Oberon's car. Lady Bird! Lady Bird! fly away now To your home in the old willow-tree, Where your children so dear have invited the ant, And a few cosy neighbours to tea.

There is some novelty and ingenuity in adapting the words and music of songs for young singers. Love, war, and drinking songs are very well for adults, but are out of time in the nursery or schoolroom; for these predilections spring up quite early enough in the bosoms of mankind. We should not forget the vignette lithographs to the little songs, which are beautifully executed by Hullmandel. All beginners will do well to see these songs, for we know many of the "larger growth" who are _little_ singers.

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POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.

WITCHCRAFT, &C.

MACB. How now, you secret, black, and mid-night hags? What is't you do?

WITCHES. A deed without a name.

MACB.

I conjure you by that which you profess, (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me; Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches--though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up-- Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down-- Though castles topple on their warder's heads-- Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations--though the treasure Of nature's germins tumble all together, Even till destruction sicken, answer me To what I ask you. SHAKSPEARE.

In our two preceding papers,[1] we have briefly brought before the attention of the reader, a few of the most prominent and striking features connected with the history of the first (as the honourable house hath it in 1602) "of those detestable slaves of the devil, witches, sorcerers, enchanters and conjurors." And now we proceed to offer a few concluding illustrations of the subject.

[1] See vol xi. p. 391--vol. xii. p. 70.

In the early ages, to be possessed of a greater degree of learning and science than the mass of mankind (at a time when even kings could not read or write) was to be invested with a more than earthly share of power; and the philosopher was in consequence subjected in many cases to a suspicion at once dangerous and dishonourable: to use the language of Coleridge, the real teachers and discoverers of truth were exposed to the hazard of fire and faggot; a dungeon being the best shrine that was vouchsafed to a Roger Bacon or a Galileo!

A few years since, a place was pointed out to the writer, on the borders of Scotland, which had been even within the "memory of the oldest inhabitant," used for the "trial" of witches; and a pool of water in an adjacent stream is still to be seen, where the poor old creatures were dragged to sink or swim; and our informant added, that a very great number had perished on that spot. Indeed, in Scotland, a refinement of cruelty was practised in the persecution of witches; the innocent relations of a suspected criminal were tortured in her presence, in the hope of extorting confession from her, in order to put an end to their sufferings, after similar means had been used without effect on herself. Even children of seven years of age were sometimes tortured in the presence of their mothers for this design. In 1751, at Trigg, in Hertfordshire, two harmless old people above seventy years of age, being suspected of bewitching a publican, named Butterfield, a vast concourse of people assembled for the purpose of ducking them, and the poor wretches were seized, and "stripped naked by the mob, their thumbs tied to their toes, and then dragged two miles and thrown into a muddy stream;" the woman expired under the hands of her persecutors, but her husband, though seriously injured, escaped with his life. One of the ringleaders of this atrocious outrage, was tried and hung for the offence.

The delusion respecting witches was greatly increased in the first instance by a Bull issued by Pope Innocent III. in 1484, to the inquisitors at Almaine, "exhorting them to discover, and empowering them to destroy, all such as were guilty of witchcraft." The fraternity of Witchfinders arose in consequence, and they seem to have been imbued with the genuine spirit of inquisitors, delighting in hunting out and dragging to the torture the innocent and harmless. They had the most unlimited authority granted them, and the whole thunders of the Vatican were directed to the destruction of witches and wizards. The bloody scenes which followed, exceed description. In 1435, Cumanus (an inquisitor) burnt forty-one poor women for witches, in the country of Burlia, in one year. One inquisitor in Piedmont burnt a hundred in a very short time; and in 1524, a thousand were burnt in one year in the diocese of Como, and a hundred annually for a considerable period; on all of whom the greatest cruelties were practised. The fraternity of witchfinders soon found their way to this country, under the fostering protection of the government; and it was of course their interest to keep up the delusion by every means in their power. We have already alluded to the cruelties exercised in Great Britain during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and add an account of one of the cruel ceremonies used to detect witches:--"Having taken the suspected witch," says Gaule, "she is placed in the middle of a room upon a stool or table, cross-legged, or in some other uneasy posture, to which if she submits not, she is then bound with cords. There she is watched and kept without meat or sleep for the space of four-and-twenty hours; for (they say) that within that time they shall see her imp come and suck. A little hole is likewise made in the door for the imp to come in at; and lest it should come in some less discernible shape, they that watch are taught to be ever and anon sweeping the room, and if they see any spiders or flies, to kill them. And if they cannot kill them, they may be sure they are her imps!" Towards the conclusion of the seventeenth century, the delusion and jugglery of witchcraft was in a great measure overthrown by the firmness of the English judges; amongst the most prominent of whom stands Chief Justice Holt. Indeed a statute was shortly after passed, which made it _wilful murder_, should any of the objects of persecution lose their lives. The popular belief, however, in witchcraft still continued, and it was not till the ninth year of George II., that the statutes against it were repealed. We believe there is still an Irish statute unrepealed, which inflicts capital punishment on witches.