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sibility was but a spur for the putting it into execution. The boat was ordered ; and with proper implements for the attempt, these enterprising heroes pushed ashore to drink a bowl of punch on the top of Pompey's Pillar! At the spot they arrived ; and many contrivances were proposed to accomplish the desired point. But they were vain ; and they began to despair of success, when the genius who struck out the frolic happily suggested the means of performing it. A man was dispatched to the city for a paper kite. The inhabitants were by this time apprised of what was going forward, and flocked in crowds to witness the 'address and boldness of the English. The governor of Alexanţria was told that those seamen were about to pull down Pompey's Pillar. But whether he gave them credit for their respect to the Roman warrior, or to the Turkish government, he left them to themselves, and politely answered, that the English were too great patriots to injure the remains of Pompey. He knew little, however, of the disposition of the people who were engaged in this undertaking. Had the Turkish empire risen in opposition, it would not at that moment have deterred' them. The kite was brought, and flown so directly over the Pillar, that when it fell on the other side, the string lodged upon the capital. The chief obstacle was now overcome. A two inch-rope was tied to one end of the string, and drawn over the pillar by the end to which the kite was affixed. By this rope one of the seamen ascended to the top; and in less than an hour a kind of shroud was constructed, by which the whole company went up, and drank their punch amid the shouts of the astonished multitude. To the eye below, the capital of the pillar does not appear capable of holding more than oné man upon it ; but our seamen found it would contain "no less than eight persons very convenientlv. It is astonishing that no accident befel these madcaps, in a situation so elevated, that would have turned a land-man giddy in his sober senses. The only detriment which the pillar received was the loss of the voluté before mentioned, which came down with a thuddering sound, and was carried to England by one of the captains, as a present to a lady who had commissioned him for a piece of the pillar. The discovery which they made amply compensated for this mischief; as without their evidence, the world would not have known at this hour that there was originally a statue on this pillar, one foot and ancle of which are still remaining. The státue must have been of a'gigantic size, to have appeared of a man's proportion'at so great a height.
There are circumstances in this story which might give it an air of fiction, were it not demonstrated beyond all doubt. Besides the testimonies of many eye-witnesses, the adventurers themselves have left us a token of the fact, by the initials of their names, which are very legible in black paint just beneath the capital."
COMPLAINT OF THE DYING YEAR.*
Reclining on a couch of fallen leaves, wrapped in a fleecy mantle, with withered limbs, hoarse voice, and snowy beard, appears. a venerable old man. His pulse beats feebly, his breath becomes shorter; he exhibits every mark of approaching dissolution.
This is old Eighteen Hundred and Seventeen ; and as every class of readers must remember him a young man, as rosy and blithesome as themselves, they will, perhaps, feel interested in hearing some of his dying expressions, with a few particulars of his past life. His existence is still likely to be prolonged a few days by the presence of his daughter December, the last and sole survivor of his twelve fair children; but it is thought the father and daughter will expire together. The following are some of the expressions which have been taken down as they fell from his dying lips.
“ I am,” said he, “the son of old father Time, and the last of a numerous progeny; for he has had not less than five thousand eight hundred and seventeen of us; but it has ever been his fate to see one child expire befor another was born. It is the opinion of some, that his own constitution is beginning to break up, and that when he has given birth to a hundred or two more of us, his family will be complete, and then he himself will be no more.”
Here the Old Year called for his account book, and turned over the pages with a sorrowful eye. He has kept, it appears, an accurate account of the moments, minutes, hours, and months which he has issued, subjoined, in some places, memorandums of the uses to which they have been applied, and of the losses he has sustained. These particulars it would be tedious to detail, and perhaps the recollection of the reader may furnish them as well or better. But we must notice one circumstance ; upon turning to a certain page in his accounts, the old man was much affected, and the tears streamed down his furrowed cheeks as he examined it. This was the register of the forty-eight Sundays which he had issued ; and which, of all the wealth he had to dispose of, has been, it appears, the most scandalously wasted. “These," said he, “ were my most precious gifts. I had but fifty-two of them to bestow. Alas! how lightly have they been esteemed !”. Here, upon referring back to certain old memorandums, he found a long list of vows and resolutions, which had à particular reference to these fifty-two Sundays. This, with a mingled emotion of grief and anger, he tore into a hundred pieces, and threw them on the embers, by which he was endeavouring to warm his shivering limbs.
* This pleasing allegory first appeared in the “ Edinburgh Star," and was written, we believe, by the Rev. Dr. Henderson, the well-known Missionary, and author of Travels in Iceland.
“I feel, however," said he, “ more pity than indignation towards these offenders, since they were far greater enemies to themselves than to me. But there are a few outrageous ones, by whom I have been defrauded of so much of my substance, that it is difficult to think of them with patience, particularly that notorious thief Procrastination, of whom every body has heard, and who is well known to have wronged my venerable father of much of his property. There are also three noted ruffians, Sleep, Sloth, and Pleasure, from whom I have suffered much; besides a certain busy-body called Dress, who, under pretence of making the most of me, and taking great care of me, steals away more of my gifts than any two of them.
“As for me, all must acknowledge that I have performed my part towards my friends and foes. I have fulfilled my utmost promise, and been more bountiful than many predecessors. My twelve fair children have, each in their turn, aided my
exertions ; aud their various tastes and dispositions have all conduced to the general good. Mild February, who sprinkled the naked boughs with delicate buds, and brought her wonted offering of early flowers, was not of more essential service than that rude blustering boy, March, who, though violent in his temper, was wellintentioned and useful.-April, a gentle tender-hearted girl, wept for his loss, yet cheered me with many a smile. June came crowned with roses, and sparkling in sunbeams, and laid up a store of costly ornaments for her luxuriant successors. But I cannot stop to enumerate the good qualities and graces of all my children. You, my poor December, dark in your complexion, and cold in your temper, greatly resemble my first-born January, with this difference, that he was most prone to anticipation, and you to reflection. “If there should be any, who, upon hearing my dying lamenfeel regret that they have not treated
kindly, I would beg leave to hint, that it is yet in their power to make some compensation for their past conduct, by rendering me, during my few remaining days, as much service as is in their power ; let them testify the sincerity of their sorrow by an immediate alteration in their behaviour. It would give particular pleasure to see my only surviving child treated with respect : let no one slight her offerings ; she has a considerable part of my
property still to dispose of, which, if well employed, will turn to good account. Not to mention the rest, there is one precious Sunday yet in her gifts ; it would cheer my last moments to know that this had been better prized than the past.
“ It is very likely that, at least after my decease, many may reflect upon themselves for their misconduct towards me. To such I would leave it as my dying injunction, not to waste time in unavailing regret; all their wishes and repentance will not recall me to life. I shall never, never return! I would rather earnestly recommend to their regard my youthful successor, whose appearance is shortly expected. I cannot hope to survive long enough to introduce him ; but I would fain hope that he will meet with a favourable reception; and that, in additon to the flattering honours which greeted my birth, and the fair promises which deceived my hopes, more diligent exertion, and more perserving efforts, may be expected. Let it be remembered, that one honest endeavour is worth ten fair promises.”
Having thus spoken, the Old Year fell back on his couch, nearly exhausted, and trembling so violently as to shake the last shower of yellow leaves from his canopy. Let us all hasten to testify our gratitude for his services, and repentance for the abuse of them, by improving the remaining days of his existence, and by remembering the solemn promises we made him in his youth.-HENDERSON.
A DAY IN LONDON.
In the morning all is calm-not a mouse stirring before ten o'clock, when the shops begin to open. Milk-women, with their pails, perfectly neat, suspended at the two'extremities of a yoke, carefully shaped to fit the shoulders, and surroạnded with small tin measures of cream, ring at every door with reiterated pulls, to hasten the house-servants, who come, halfasleep, to receive a measure as big as an egg, being the allowance of a family-for it is necessary to explain, that milk is not hére food or drink, but a tincture; an elixir exhibited in drops, five or six at most, in a cup of tea, morning and evening. It would be difficult to say, what taste or what quality those drops may impart, but so it is, and nobody thinks of questioning the propriety of the custom. Not a single carriage, not a cart is seen passing. The first considerable stir is the drum and military music of the guards, marching from the barracks to Hyde Park, having at their head three or four negro giants, striking high, gracefully, and strong, the resounding cymbal. About three o'clock the fashionable world give some signs of life, issuing forth to pay visits, or rather leave cards at the door of friends never seen but in the crowds of assemblies go to the shops see sights-or lounge in Bond-street, an ugly inconvenient street, the attractions of which are difficult to understand. At five or six they return home to dress for dinner; the streets are then lighted from one end to the other, or rather edged on either side with two long lines of little bright dots, indicative of light, but yielding in fact very little—these are the lamps ; they are not suspended in the middle of the streets, as at Paris, but fixed on irons, eight or nine feet high, ranged along the houses :the want of- reflectors is probably the cause of their giving so little light. From six to eight the noise of wheels increases—it is the dinner hour. A multitude of carriages, with two eyes of flame staring in the dark before each of them, shake the pavement and the very houses, following and crossing each other at full speed; stopping suddenly; a footman jumps down, runs to the door, and lifts the heavy knocker-gives a great knock, then several small ones in quick succession—then, with all his might, flourishing as on a drum, with an art and an air, and a delicacy of touch, which denote the quality, the rank, and the fortune of his master.
For two hours, or nearly, there is a pause ; at ten a redoublement comes on. This is the great crisis of dress, of noise, and of rapidity-an universal hubbub; a sort of uniform grinding and shaking, like that experienced in a great mill with fifty pair of stones ; and if I was not afraid of appearing to exaggerate, I should say, that it came upon the ear like the fall of Niagara, heard at two miles distance. This crisis continues undiminished till twelve or one o'clock, then less and less during the rest of the night-till, at the approach of day, a single carriage is heard now and then at a great distance.
Great assemblies are called routs or parties—but the people who give them, in their invitations, only say, that they will be at home such a day, and this some weeks beforehand. The house in which this takes place is frequently stripped from top to bottom_beds, drawers, and all but ornamental furniture, are carried out of sight, to make room for a crowd of well-dressed