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went on

a There! there it is! Nothing but imposition! And learn to sbun his vices, one and all. Even Time must rear bis steru, unyielding front, Though richer than a Jew, he was inore poor And holding out his shrivelled skeleton hand, Than is the meanest beggar. At the cost Demands my money. Naught but money! or other nen a glutton. At his own, money!

A starveling. A mere scrub. And such a coward, Were I coin'd into money I could not

A cozener and liar-but a coward, Half satisfy that craving greed of money.

And would have been a thief-But was a coward, Well, how much do you cbarge? I'll pay you

Blackwood's Magazine, now, And take a bond from you that it be made

The Selecior; When it is needed. Come, calculate with

Work's very cheap; and two good men will LITERARY NOTICES OF

That grave at two days' work: and I can havo
Men at a shilling each-without the meat-
That's a great matter! Let them but to meat,

Tis utter ruin. I'll give none their meat-
That I'll beware of. Men now-a-days are cheap, (Library of Entertaining Knowledge,
Cheap, dogcheap, and beggarly fond of work.

Part 18.) One sbilling each a-day, without the meat, We have little inclination to quote more Mind that, and ask in reason; for I wish To have that matter settled to my mind." than a few passages from the General

“Sir, there's no man alive will do't so cheap View of Paris in this Number ; the toAs I shall do it for the ready cash,”. Says I, to put him from it with a joke.

pographical portion of which, (as far as

à four months residence there will serve " I'll charge you, then, one-fourth part of a farthing

our judgment) is eminently characterisFor every cubic foot of work I do,

tic. Doubling the cbarge each foot that I descend." “ Doubling as you descend! Why, that of

Ancient City.

The Archbishop of Narbonne, writing A quarter of a farthing each square foot

in the reign of Francis I., (about 1520,) No meat, remember! Not an inch of meat, Nor drink, nor dram. You're not to trust to

calls Paris even then a world rather than these.

a city* ; yet at that period its population Wilt stand that bargain, Gabriel ?"-"I accept." Ho struck it, quite o'erjoy'd. We sought the

was probably not much more than the clerk,

fifth part of what it now is; nor did the Sign'd_seal'd. He drew his purse. The clerk quantity of ground it covered bear even Figuring and figuring. "What a fuss yon make!

the same proportion to the immense 'Tis plain,” said be, “the sun is eighteen- space over which it has now extended.

but in both convenience and elegance, “ Tis somewhat more, sir," said the civil Paris has made still more extraordinary

clerkAnd held out the account. “ Two hundred

advances since the time of Francis than round,

even in population and extent. And gallant payment over.” The Miser's face Assumed the cast of death's worst lineaments,

then, compared to what it now is, but His skinny jaws fell down upon his breast; a gloomy and incommodious, fortress, He tried to speak, but his dried tongue refused without even the security which encomIls utterance, and cluck'd upon the gum. His heart-pipes whistled with a crannell'd sound;

passing fortifications might be supposed His knell-knees plaited, and his every bone to yield. Lighted only by candles placed Seem'd out of joint. He raved—he cursed, he here and there by the inhabitants them

weptBut payment he refused. I have my boud,

selves in their windows, it was so infestNot yet a fortnight old, and shall be paid. ed by thieves and assassins that hardly It broke the Miser's heart. Hc ate no niore,

any person ventured out after dark, and Nor drank, nor spake, but groan'd uutil he died; This grave kill'd him, and now yearns for his

the approach of night was the source of bones.

constant terror even to those who remainBut worse than all. Tis twenty years apri more ed in their houses. The streets thus Since he brought home his coffin. On that chest imperfectly lighted, were worse paved; His eye turn'd ever and anon. It minded bim, He said, of death. And as be sat by nigbt and most of them were as dirty and narBeside his beamless hearth, with blanket round row as those still to be seen in the more His shivering frame, if burst of winter wind Made the door jangle, or the chimney moan,

ancient part of the city. The supply of Or crannied window whistle, he would start, water was so inadequate that the seve. And turn his mcagre looks upon that chest; rest miseries were sometimes suffered Tben sit upon't, and watch till break of day. Old wives thonght hiin religious-a good man !

from the absolute want of that necessary A great repentant sinner, who would leave of life, and the greatest inconveniences His countless riches to sustain the poor. at all times from its scarcity. Finally, But mark the issue. Yesterday, at noon, Two men could scarcely move that pouderous the public edifices were without splencbest

dour, and even the best of the private To tbe bedside to lay the body in.

houses unprovided with many of what They broke it sundry, and they found it framed With double bottom! All his worshipp'd gold

are now accounted the most indispensaHoarded between the boards! O such a worm ble accommodations. Instead of all this, Sure never writhed beneath the dunghill's base! we behold Paris now one of the very cenFifteen feet under ground! and all his store Snng in beneath him. Such a beaveu was bis.

tral seats of civilization ; and although Now, honest Teddy, think of such a wretch,

* Felibien, Histoire de Paris, tome i.


It was

still deficient in many of the accommoda- points it is not more than half that distions which supply to the necessities of tance from the one bank to the other. the many instead of the luxuries of the The bridges, therefore, by which the few, in possession of the greater portion Seine is traversed, are not to be comof the most important provisions which pared in point of magnitude with those ingenuity has found out, whether for the of the Thames at London. Even the comfort or the embellishment of exis- Pont Neuf, which connects the Ile du tence. What a contrast between the Palais with both the northern and the French capital of 1831, and that Lutetia southern divisions of the city, and com. of the ancient Parisii, which Cæsar prehends in fact two bridges, with an found nearly nineteen hundred years ago intermediate street, is shorter taken occupying the little island, around which altogether, than Waterloo bridge by has since extended itself so wide a circle more than 200 feet; and the Pont Louis of wealth, industry, intelligence, and the XVI., which next to the Pont Neuf is works which these create !

the longest of the Parisian stone bridges,

measures only about 485 feet between Bridges.

the abutments, while Westminster Bridge Paris, stands, like London, on both measures 1223, and Waterloo Bridge banks of a river, and is thus cut into two 1242 feet. It is in the number of its great divisions, one to the north, and the bridges alone, therefore, that the Seine other to the south, of the water. The is superior to the Thames. Seine, however, is not nearly so broad as the Thames ; and the northern and

The Boulevards. southern halves of Paris are not, there- The most remarkable feature in the fore, by any means so much separated general appearance of Paris, is the inner from each other, either locally, politically, inclosure formed by the celebrated road or socially, as are the corresponding called the Boulevards. On the north portions of the English metropolis. side of the river, the Boulevards follow They form, in all respects one city. a line nearly midway, on an average,

The Seine flows in a direction nearly between the river and the wall. The opposite to that of the Thames, namely, space which they comprehend, therefore, from south-east to north-west. It pre- is but a small portion of that included serves almost a perfectly straight course within the outer boundary of the city. in passing through Paris, except that it The length of this part of the road is bends considerably to the south imme- about 5,200 English yards, or somewhat diately before leaving the town. The under three miles. That on the south river, as it flows through the heart of side of the river is of far greater extent, the city, is interrupted by three small approaching, as it does, throughout its islands lying in succession, the two most whole sweep, very much closer to the westerly of which, the Ile de la Cité wall, and in some parts entirely coinciding (otherwise called the Ile du Palais) and with it. It measures about 16,000 yards, the Ile St. Louis, or de Notre Dame, or above nine miles in length. Each of ‘are covered with streets and houses. these lines, although in reality forming The third, called the Ile Louvier, is used an uninterrupted road from its commenceonly as a depôt for fire-wood. The parts ment to its termination, is divided into a of the town on the opposite sides of the succession of parts, each having its parriver are connected with each other, and ticular name. The northern Boulevards with these islands, by nineteen bridges, are twelve in number, the southern thirteen of which are constructed of stone, seven. We have nothing in England and two of stone and iron: of the others like the Parisian Boulevards. They may two are chain-bridges, one is built of be generally described as a road or wood, and two of wood and iron. Seve- street, of great breadth, along each side 'ral of these structures, especially the of which are planted double rows of elms. Pont des Arts, the Pont Louis XVI., But these shady avenues do not present and the Pont de Jena, or de l'Ecole merely a picture of rural beauty. Rising Militaire, all of which are to the west of as they do in the heart of a great city, the Ile du Palais, are distinguished by they partake also of its artificial elegance their majesty or elegance, and add much and splendour, and are associated with beauty and picturesque effect to the all the luxuries of architectural decoravista of the river. Excepting at one tion. Considered merely as a range of · place where the two branches enclosing streets, the Boulevards are hardly rivalled the Ile du Palais unite, immediately to by any other part of Paris. Those to the west of that island, the breadth of the north of the river are lined on both athe Seine at Paris is no where greater sides throughout their whole extent, by than about 550 English feet, and at some buildings more uniformly handsome than

are those of almost any other street in Paris is anything but an agreeable exerthe city, and by many which may be cise. Still farther to abridge the level even described as magnificent. Some of space, the street is made to incline from these are private residences; others are both sides towards the centre, in order shops, cafés, public hotels, and theatres. to form there a sort of ditch, in which The crowds by whom so many parts of flows a black and fetid stream. From these Boulevards are frequented chiefly the want of a proper system of drains, give to the scene its singular liveliness this receptacle of filth is generally sufand brilliancy. The southern Boule- ficiently replenished even in the driest vards, though equally beautiful, are far weather, to keep the whole street wet from being so much the habitual resort and dirty. Carriages, having usually of the citizens; but the walks on this one wheel in the midst of the kennel, very account, have a charm for some dash about the offensive puddle in all moods of mind which the others want. directions. But the principle of a clear Another road, planted in a similar man, middle way, such as our English streets ner, has more recently been carried possess, is neglected in all the arrangeround the outside of the present walls of inents connected with those of Paris. the city. It is distinguished from the Even the lights, instead of being fixed inner Boulevards by the name of the on posts, as ours are, at the sides, are Boulevards Extérieurs.

suspended in the middle on ropes swung Streets.

across, and having their opposite ends

fastened to the walls of the houses. It Toa person accustomed to the appear- was these ropes which the mob, in the ance of the streets of London, or indeed Revolution of 1789, were wont to make of any other English town, those of the use of as halters for their victims; whence interior of Paris will present considera- their famous cry of á la lanterne, 'as ble novelty of aspect. The extreme they dragged them along to execution.' narrowness, in the first place, of those The aspect of Paris by night, except in the more ancient parts of the city, and in a few of the principal streets where the great height of the houses, with gas has been very partially introduced, their windows in many cases fortified by is singularly gloomy. The darkness is bars of iron, would alone give them an occasionally relieved by the brilliancy of air of gloom and precaution, almost a café; but in the more quiet parts of sufficient to impress the Englishman the town, particularly in the fashionable who walks through them with the feel- quarter of the Faubourg St. Germain, it ing that he has been transported, not is almost impossible for the pedestrian only into another country, but into to direct his steps aright. It is quite another age. Even where these indica- evident that the arrangements of this tions of the more ancient evils of Paris capital have not been made for a walking are not visible, the general aspect of the people. This evil, however, is fast town shows that it has not grown with disappearing. Numerous passages have the growth of a free people, amongst been constructed, within the last ten whom the inequalities of rank have been years, which are paved with flat stones, softened down by respect to the comforts and brilliantly lighted; and the active of all classes. Under the ancient régime, and pleasure-seeking population of Paris which was in full activity half a century crowd to these attractive and convenient ago, there were only two classes in Paris, places, to the Boulevards, or to the Pathe noblesse, and the bourgeoisie; and fais-Royal, and leave the narrow and the latter, being driven into the gutters dirty streets principally to the few who by the carriage-wheels of their arrogant keep their own carriages, or to the many masters, went by the general name of who hire public conveyances. These the canaille. Few of the streets even are of various kinds; and such was the now have any side pavement for foot growing importance of the middle classes, passengers—that invaluable accommo

that fiacres (so called after the sign of dation which gives such perfect security St Fiacre, at the house where they were to the pedestrian even in our most crowd- first established) were in use a century ed and tumultuous thoroughfares. The and a half ago. causeway itself, on which walkers and The remainder of the Part is occupied drivers are thus mingled together in with a sketch of the Revolution of 1789. confusion, is often most uneven and rugged. The stones of which it is formed, about ten inches square, present each a convex surface, usually wet and slip- Though no language can adequately pery, so that under the most favourable condemn the base subserviency of Henry's circumstances, walking in the streets of parliament, it may be reasonably doubt


ed whether his reign was, in its ulti- of Henry's reign. Knights, citizens, miate consequences, injurious to public and burgesses were now directed to be liberty. The immense revolutions of his chosen and sent to parliament from the time in property, in religion, and in the shires, cities, and burghs of Wales. A inheritance of the crown, never could short time before, the same privileges have been effected without the concur- were granted to the county palatine of rence of parliament. Their acquies- Chester, of which the preamble concence and co-operation in the spoliation tains a memorable recognition and estaof property, and the condemnation of blishment of the principles which are the innocent, tempted him to carry all the basis of the elective part of our conhis purposes into execution, through stitution.|| Nearly thirty members were their means.

Those who saw the at- thus added to the House of Commons tainders of queens, the alteration of an on the principle of the Chester bill : established religion, and the frequent that is disadvantageous to a province to disturbance of the regal succession, ac- be unrepresented ; that representation complished by acts of parliament, consi- is essential to good government; and dered nothing as beyond the jurisdiction that those who are bound by the laws of so potent an assembly.* *If the su- ought to have a reasonable share of dipremacy was a tremendous power, it rect influence on the passing of laws. accustomed the people to set no bounds As the practical disadvantages are only to the authority of those who bestowed generally alleged, and could scarcely it on the king. The omnipotence of have been proved, they must have been parliament appeared no longer a mere inferred from the nature of a House of hyperbole. Let it not be supposed, Commons. The British constitution that to mention the good thus finally was not thought to be enjoyed by a educed from such evils, is intended or district till a popular representation was calculated to palliate crimes, or to lessen bestowed on it." Election by the people our just abhorrence of criminals. Now was regarded, not as a source of tumult, thing, on the contrary, seems more to but as the principle most capable of exalt the majesty of virtue than to point composing disorder in territories not out the tendency of the moral govern- represented.- Cabinet Cyclopædia, vol. ment of the world, which, as in this xix. Sir James Mackintosh's History of instance, turns the worst enemies of all England, vol. ii. that is good into the laborious slaves Radnor, Brecknock, Montgomery, and Denof justice. Of all outward benefits, bigh, 27 Heury 8 c. 26. the most conducive to virtue as well

34 and 35 Henry 8. c. 26. 8, 50.

i 34 and 35 Henry 8. c. 13.-- «That the said as to happiness is, doubtless, popular county bave bitherto been excluded from the and representative government. It is the high court of parliament, to have any knights reverse of a degradation of it to ob

and Lurgesses within the said court, by reason

whereof the inbabitants have sustained manifold serve, that its establishment among us damages in their lands, goods, and bodies, as was perhaps partially promoted by the well as in tbe good governance of the commonsensuality, rapacity, and cruelty of Henry they have been bound by ihe acts of the said VIII. The course of affairs is always court, and yet have had no knights and burso dark, the beneficial consequences of gesses therein, for lack whereof they have been

often touched and grieved by the acts of the said public events are so distant and uncer

parliament, prejudicial to the commonwealth, tain, that the attempt to do evil in order quietness, rest, and peace of your highness's to produce good is in men a most crimi- boundeu subjects, inhabiting within the said

county," nal usurpation. Some direct benefits the constitution

Tye topographer. owes to this reign. The act which established a parliamentary representation in so considerable a territory as Wales may be regarded as the principal

(Continued from page 312.) reformation in the composition of the The grounds of Penrice Castle, which House of Commons since its legal ma- stretch to the sea-shore, and on which turity in the time of Edward I. That

art has embellished scenery possessing principality had been divided into twelve capabilities of a high order shires : of which eight were ancient, ceedingly picturesque and extensive. and four cwed their origin to a statute Penrice bears marks of having been a

Roman station. Henry de Newburgh, * The observations of Nathaniel Bacon, or

Earl of Warwick, here defeated the rather of Selden, from whose MS. notes he is

Welsh prince, Rhys, which decided the consideration. Bacon on the Laws and Govern- fate of Gower. He was beheaded ment of England, chap. 27. + Glamorgan, Carmarthen, Pembroke. Cardi.

after the battle, whence the Welsh gan, Fliut, Caruarvou, Anglesea and Merioneth. name, Pen-Rhys. On the field of bat





said to have written his book, deserve serious

tle the victor erected Penrice Castle, generally so on returning) exhilarated which is now certainly a striking ruin. by the rapid motion ; and our hearts On the coast near Penrice is the village elate with the “ songs of spring,” we and ruins of the Castle of Oxwich, returned home on as sweet an April now a barn-sic transit !

evening as ever blessed man. The afternoon was waxing apace

Another interesting excursion may be we had lost time in attending to our made to Cefyn-bryn, the most elevated horses, for ostler there was none-and hill in the district, about twelve miles in musing amongst the simply decorated from Swansea. The road to Western graves in the humble churchyard ; Gower is carried over it; the summit after discussing with great relish our is level, and a carriage may be driven in repast of eggs and bacon, and Welsh safety for a couple of miles to the alē, the best the village afforded, (by southern point; which commands, on a the way, we shall not readily forget the clear day, in one direction, a vast and fluster of our Welsh hostess when we unbounded view of the Bristol Channel, talked of dining on our arrival at the the whitened houses of Ilfracombe, with little hostelrie) we then rode down to the hills of Devon and Somerset, Lundy the sea-shore, intending to cross the Island, and the scenery of Swansea Bay. sandy beach of Oxwich, which extends And on the reverse of the picture, alseveral miles, on our return to the most the whole peninsula of Gower, the Gower Inn. The tide flows with great extensive estuary of the Burry River, rapidity on this coast, and it had already and part of the beautiful expanse of the advanced to the foot of a stupendous County and Bay of Carmarthen, is headland, which juts into the beach spread out like a map before you. King about half way. We waded our horses Arthur's Stone, an immense rock of through the surf—but how can we do lapis molaris, twenty tons weight, supjustice to the splendour of the scenery ported by a circle of others—the rearound us.

The alternations of stern mains of Druidism-invites the attention and savage beauty—the gigantic masses of the antiquary, on the north-west of “ fantastic cliffs," and caverns, that point of Cefyn-bryn. We may here rehave stood the combat of the mighty mark that this district, especially the Atlantic for countless ages ? Oxwich is coast, offers a rich harvest to the geoloalmost unknown to the traveller, and gist. The general substratum of the there are few coast scenes in these peninsula limestone and rble, islands that surpass it in beauty. We hounded to the north by an immense lingered long on the shore. There is a iron and coal field. The limestone stratum perpetual “jabble" against the cliffs on is continually “ cropping out” in the inthis coast and we have seldom met terior, and of course it can be worked with a soul save an aged and solitary at a trifling expense. This may account fisherwoman-a study for a Bonington for the general healthiness of the dis- pursuing her precarious calling of trict. Though rair in consequence of crab or shrimp fishing, or of pulling the western exposure, falls frequently, lobsters from their retreats in the savage and sometimes with great violence, yet cliffs.

it speedily runs off, leaving none of the A boly peace,

bad effects which would be produced in Pervades this sea-shore solitude-The world

a tenacious soil. Marble of valuable And all who love that world, are far away! N. T. CARRINGTON.

quality is worked at Oystermouth.

But we must hasten to close our Notes It was getting dusk when we ascended from the shore, on our way homewards, on Gowerto proceed with our circuit past the wild—the truly shattered, and of the coast :-West from Oxwich is desolate ruins of Pennard Castle ; which Porteyron, where there is an extensive bear, we think, decided marks of have lobster and oyster fishery, near which ing been erected long prior to the Nor- is Landewy Castle. There is a wonderThe country people tell you

ful precipice here. Further west we its origin was supernatural; and some

come to the village of Rossilly, near the writers ascribe it to that great castle. Worms-Head, the termination of a range builder, Henry de Newburgh. Pennard of rocks, which form the western point stands in a situation of extreme beauty, it by a low isthmus. It extends more

of the peninsula, being connected with and deeply rivets the attention : « The stones have voices, and the walls do live, flood becomes an island.

than a mile into the ocean, and at half

The name

arose by mariners comparing it to å Our favourite mare and her compa- worm with its head erect, between the nion were in high spirits, (horses are Nass Point and St. Gower's Head, in * See Mirror, vol. xvi. p. 253.

Pembrokeshire. The scenery here is

man era.

It is the House of Memory !»


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