3

writers who sign themselves off constant readers' find their occupation gone. Now, the stones of Bond-street dance for joy, while they "prate of the whereabout" of innumerable wheels; which latter are so happy to meet again after a long absence, that they rush into neach other's embraces wheel within wheel" and there's no getting them asunder. Now, the Italian opera is open, and the house is fully but if asked on the subject, you may safely say that nobody was there ;"} --for the opera-hats that you meet with in the pit evidently indicate that the wearers appertain to certain counters and counting-houses in the city, or serve those that do having "received orders" for the opera in the way of their business.-Now, a sudden thaw after a week's frost puts the pedestrians of Cheapside into a pretty pickle. Now, the trottoir of Saint James's-street begins to know itself again; the steps of Raggett's are proud of being pressed by right-honourable feet; and the dandies watch-tower is once more peopled with playful peers peering after beautiful frailties in furred pelisses.-Now, on fine Sundays, the citizens and their wives begin to hie them to Hyde Park, and having attained Wellington-walk, fancy that there is not more than two pins to choose between them and their betters on the other side the rail; while these latter, having come abroad to take the air (of the insides of their carriages) and kill the time and cure the vapours,-permit inquisitive equestrians to gaze at them through plate-glass, and fancy, not without reason, that they look like flowers seen through flowing water: Lady O, for example, like an overblown rose; Lady H like a painted lady-pea; the Countess of Blike a newly opened appleblossom; and her demure-looking little sister beside her like a primrose. Now, Winter being on the wane, and Spring only on the approach, Fashion, for once in the year, begins to feel herself in a state of interregnum, and her ministers, the milliners and tailors, don't know what to think; Mrs. Bean shakes her head like Lord Burleigh, and declines to determine as to what may be the fate of future waists; and Mr. Stultz is equally cautious of committing himself in the affair of collars; and both agree in coming to the same conclusion with the statesman in Tom Thumb-that, as near as they can guess, they cannot tell!"-Now, therefore, the fashionable shops are shorn of their beams, and none can show wares that are strictly in season, except the stationer's. But his, which for all the rest of the year is dullest of the dull, is now, for the first fourteen days, gayest of the gay-for here the poetry of love and the love of poetry are displayed under all possible and impossible forms and metaphors, from little cupids creeping out of cabbage roses, to large overgrown hearts stuffed with doubleheaded arrows, and uttering piteous complaints in verse while they fry in their own flames. And this brings us safe back to the point from which we somewhat prematurely set out; for Now, on good Saint Valentine's eve, all the rising generation of this metropolis who feel that they have reached the age of indiscretion, think it full time for them to fall in love, or be fallen in love with. Accordingly, infinite are the crow-quills that move mincingly between embossed margins, * zi said And those rhyme now who never rhymned before, པཱ། ཝཱ And those who always rhymed now rhyme the more ;"

i

to hos *

66

to the utter dismay of the newly-appointed twopenny postman the next

morning; who curses Saint Valentine almost as bitterly as does in her secret heart yonder sulky sempstress, who has not been called upon for a single twopence out of all the two hundred thousand* extra ones that have been drawn from willing pockets, and dropped into canvass bags, on this eventful day. She may take my word for it that the said sulkiness, which has some show of reason in it to-day, is in the habit of visiting her pretty face oftener than it is called for: if it were not so, she would not have had cause for it now.

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

Let us be off to the country without more ado;-for who can stay in London in the face of such epithets as these-that seem to compel us, with their sweet magic, to go in search of the sounds and sights that they characterise?" The lyric lark !"-Why a modern poet might live for a whole season on that one epithet !-Nay, there be those that have lived on it for a longer time-perhaps without knowing that it did not belong to them! "The sparrow-that neglects his life for love!" "The household bird, with the red stomacher!"-That a poet who could write in this manner, for pages together, should be almost entirely unknown to modern readers, (except to those of a late number of the Retrospective Review,) would be somewhat astonishing, if it were not for the consideration that he is so well known to modern writers! It would be doing both parties justice if some one would point out a few of the coincidences that occur between them. In the mean time, we shall be doing better in looking abroad for ourselves into that Nature to which he looked, and seeing what she offers worthy of particular observation in the course of this last month of Winter in the country, though it is the first in London. Our "now" in regard to the latter place finished on Saint Valentine's Day. Let it here begin on that day: for the first half offers nothing that can expressly distinguish it from its sister January.

mentous matters.

Now, then, about the middle of the month, a strange commotion may be seen and heard among the winged creatures-portending moThe lark is high up in the cold air before day-light, seeking for the unrisen sun; and his chosen mistress is listening to him down among the dank grass, with the dew still upon her unshaken wing. The bird "with the red stomacher" has left off, for a brief season, his low plaintive piping,-which, it must be confessed, was poured forth for his own exclusive satisfaction,-and, reckoning on his spruce looks and sparkling eyes, issues his quick peremptory love-call,

*This was the number of letters that passed through the twopenny post-office on the 14th of February, 1821, in addition to the usual daily average.-See the Official Returns.

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

"I shall not ask Jean Jaques Rousseau If birds confabulate, or no ;" but shall determine at once that may be placed on eyes and ears. selves now:

they do-at least if any dependence But let us leave the birds to them

"Sacred be love from sight, whate'er it is.”

We shall have enough opportunities of observing all their other pretty ways hereafter.

For the great general face of nature, we shall find that much in the same apparent state as we left it last month. And we must look into its individual features very minutely if we would discover any change even in them. The trees are still utterly bare-the skies are cold and grey-the paths and ways are for the most part dank and miry-and the air is either damp and clinging, or bitter, eager, and shrewd. But then what days of soft air, and sunshine, and unbroken blue sky do now and then intervene, and transport us into the very heart of May, and make us look about and wonder what is become of the green leaves and the flowers! Now hard frosts, if they come at all, are followed by sudden thaws; and now, if ever, the mysterious old song of our schooldays stands a chance of being verified, which sings of

"Three children sliding on the ice

All on a summer's day,

It so fell out they all fell in,

The rest they ran away!”

Now the labour of the husbandman recommences; and it is pleasant to watch from your library window, the plough-team moving almost imperceptibly along, upon the distant upland that the bare trees have disclosed to you. And now, by the way, if you are wise, you will get acquainted with all the little spots that are thus, by the bareness of the trees, laid open to you.

But we must not neglect the garden; for though "Nature's journeymen," the gardeners, are undergoing an ignoble leisure this month, it is not so with Nature herself. She is as busy as ever--if not openly and obviously-secretly, and in the hearts of her sweet subjects, the flowers-stirring them up to that rich rivalry of beauty, which is to greet the first footsteps of Spring, and teaching them to prepare them

selves for her advent, as young maidens prepare, months beforehand,
for the marriage festival of some dear friend. If the flowers think and
feel and he who dares to say that they do not, is either a fool or a
philosopher (let him choose between the imputations !)--if the flowers
think and feel, what a commotion must be working within their silent
hearts, when the pinions of winter begin to grow, and indicate that he
is at least meditating his flight! Then do they too begin to meditate
on May day, and think on the delight with which they shall once more
breathe the fresh air, when they have leave to escape from their sub-
terranean prisons; for now, towards the latter end of this month, they
are all of them at least awake from their winter slumbers, and most
are busily working at their gay toilets, and weaving their fantastic
robes, and shaping their trim forms, and distilling their rich essences,
and in short getting ready in all things, that they may be duly pre-
pared to join the bright procession of beauty that is to greet and
glorify the annual coming-on of their sovereign lady, the Spring!
It is true none of all this can be seen. But what a race should we be, if
we knew and cared to know of nothing but what we can see and
prove!

"Whose mind is but the mind of his own eyes,
He is a slave-the meanest you can meet."

But there is much going on in the garden now, that may be seen by "the naked eye" of those who carefully look for it. The bloom buds of the shrubs and fruit-trees are obviously swelling; and the leaves of the lilac are ready to burst forth at the first favourable call. The laurestinus still braves the winds and the frosts, and blooms in blithe defiance of them. So does the China rose; but meekly, and like a maiden who will not droop though her lover be away,--because she knows that he is true to her, and will soon return.-Now, too, the visible heralds of spring appear; but they have not yet put on their gorgeous tabards or surcoats of many colours. The chief of these are the tulips; who are now just showing themselves, shrouded closely in their sheltering alcoves of dull green. The hyacinths too have sent up their trim fences of green, and are just peeping up from the midst of them in their green veils-the cheek of each flower-bud pressed and clustering against that of its fellow, like a host of little heads peeping out from the porch of an ivy-bound cottage, as the London coach passes. Now, too, those pretty orphans, the crocuses and snowdrops -those foundlings, that belong neither to Winter nor Spring-that are neither lingering remnants of the one, nor early heralds of the other→→ show their modest faces scarcely an inch above the dark earth, as if they were afraid to rise from it, lest a stray "March wind" should whistle them away.

Pardon me this rhapsody, gentle reader, and I promise to be as "sober-suited" as the editor of an encyclopedia, for this two months to come.-Nothing-not even the nightingale's song in the last week in April-shall move me from my "propriety." But I will candidly confess that the effects of May-day morning are more than I can venture to answer for. Even the chimney-sweepers are allowed to disport themselves then; so that when that arrives, there is no knowing what may happen.

CONSTANTINOPLE.

We arrived at Pera near Constantinople, after a very good passage of eighteen days from Marseilles, without much incident. The worst part of it was a calm of four days, that came on as we lost sight of Sardinia: during which the utter want of interest and variety brought a most wearying vacuity upon the mind; sitting upon the deck, sick, gazing only on the sea and sky, and the waste of waters heaving around. On the fifth day a beautiful breeze sprang up and sickness and weariness fled away. The Morea came in sight, and we gazed with interest on its lofty coast; then the islands of Cerigo and Milo. The appearance of the sky in the Mediterranean is not of the clear fine blue of a summer's day in England; it is a kind of French gray, growing very light towards the horizon and never yet had we seen a sunset equal to some I have seen in England. But one lovely evening, the island of Zea was on one side, and a very pretty Greek town of white houses with flat roofs on its declivity, and a church at the bottom, with its town, just like one of our country village churches : the high and romantic land of Greece, very barren, was on the other side; over which the sun sunk gradually with indescribable splendour, But the twilight here is much shorter than with us; nor do the hues of sunset, though more delicate and soft, linger so long in the sky. The range of Grecian country terminating in the capes Colonna and Negropont was extremely lofty, and the hills finely wooded; and far in the back-ground were mountains covered with snow. The islands of Mitylene, Ipsera, and at last Tenedos came in sight, with the land of Troy. But the land of the East, to which we were fast approaching, now became the great object of interest; and the entrance of the Dar. danelles at last opened; a vessel or two preceding us, when a gun from the fort told us that all was not peace. We were ordered, from a Turkish frigate, into a position near the shore. The captain concealed his money. Two boats boarded us on both sides with soldiers and several officers; but they only came to know if we had any design to assist the Greeks with stores or ammunition, and they at last gave us permission to depart.

After some hours' stay we proceeded up the Dardanelles, Europe on one side and Asia on the other; and soon Turkey opened on us with its loveliest scenery. I do not know if I can convey a proper idea of it, it is so different from that of Europe. What gives a peculiar beauty to the Turkish towns and villages, is their being so embosomed in trees. You always see these of the liveliest verdure, hanging over and shad+ ing the greatest part of the houses. The habitations are rather low, and built generally of wood, with gently sloping roofs; they are either of a red, white, or lead colour, with windows of framework of wood. The neat white minaret of the mosque rises eminent amidst every village. The country was rich in many parts with corn, which had been already cut; and a cool kiosque was seen, shaded with its luxuriance of wood. But all this only whetted my impatience to behold Stamboul, as the Turks call it; and night came down again to augment it. For the last few days the sky had become more beautiful, of a most delicate: blue, bounded near the horizon by a ridge of white clouds; and the last day of our voyage was particularly fine, when a gentle breeze

VOL. X. NO. XXXVIIT.