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by the sly pull at the ragged skirt-and a few him, to prevent him from discrediting the com. by the coward stone --and the loud shout of pany by his blunders. triumph the litile mob will give, when they It may be supposed, that such a subject soon succeed in making the poor creature turn and became the buit of his comrades; they never stand at bay; or run after them in fierce, but, wanted a joke, when he was by ;-they torhappily for them, in iinpolent anger. Such a mented him incessantly. They played him sight is not uncommon, and, to a man of tricks, at which sometimes he himself gave the thought and feeling is very humiliating and laugh of silliness ; while at others, he would affecting
blubber like a baby :-on these last occasions, -“ the little dogs and all,
I would rebuke hiin, and punislı the men :--but Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark
I often, too often, shared in the laughter. Poor at me"
Kit!--he went with us to the Peninsula : I re
member him well in our marches there. My cries Lear in his mad misery. " Is there any old captain, who was one of the best-lempered cause in Nature that makes these hard hearts?"
men lever met with, would sometimes be proAh me! I fear there is. Kit Wallace, I call
voked into a violent passion with him; and thee up from thy grave. Let me paint thy while be punished ball the company for leazportrait ; record thy wrongs; and relate thy ing him, would threaten, in a voice of thunder, death. It may be some poor, feeble-minded
"lo ride down Kit's throat !" the only threat being shall be treated the better for this sketch
that ever effectually silenced him when he was of thy inoffensive life :--some stick shall be in the mood to blubber and bellow ;-and the raised in defence of a mobbed miserable—some only punishment, if a threat be a punishment, word of kindness be spoken into an ear accus
he ever received. tomed only to reviling and reproach. I remember, in the ardent and joyous day's ble. I remeinber on one occasion, when the
The silliness of the poor fellow was incrediof my early military life-when my laughter regiment was drawn up, expecting to be imwas " like the crackling of thorns under a pot'' mediately engaged, and I was in charge of the -a poor, half-witted man, who had enlisted
company; as a simple act of duty, I placed into the regiment; I know not when or how.
him in the front rank; lest, by his extreme He was certainly, poor fellow, to use the fa awkwardness, he might do some injury, in vourite phrase of ihe drill-sergeant, one of his firing, to the man who would otherwise have Majesty's hard barguins. He was not crazy stood in front of him. It is a ludicrous fact, he was not an idiot-so that there was no way
that the poor fellow complained to the colonel, of getting him discharged-for, at that period,
as he was riding down the line, that I had inspecting generals were very strict about dis placed him in the front rank to get him killed, charges; but he was a simpleton of the silliest.
• Is he not in the front rank himself, you fool!" The intelligence of a child was greater. It was the colonel's reply. This shows, first, alas! was well for him, perhaps, that he had been
that poor Kit regarded all the world, and me driven to enlist by ill treatment at home; or
amongst them, as his enemies--next, that he inveigled by some adroit recruiting sergeant, had not much of the hero in his composition. who wanted to pocket the bringing inoney ; This little incident was never forgotten by the for in a regiment he was sure to be clothed,
men of the company; and they plagued him fed, taken care of, and governed. Poor Kit, to about it to the end of the war: but many a make a soldier of him was impossible. How:
voice that gibed and jeered him was, in succver he had eyes, arms, and legs; and as he
cession, silenced in death. He was one of the would not use these last to desert, tu get rid of
few survivors in the company, at the terminahim was impracticable. He had a slouch; and
tion of those memorable campaigns. He was he was a sloven. He never stood in the pro
present in every battle, and on every march. per position of a soldier; nor did he ever put
The handsome, and the happy, and the hardy on his clothes and appointments like one. Offi
fell around hiin: Kit lived on. At the close of cers and drill-sergeants gave him up in despair.
the bloody battle of Albuera, when I saw him He sunk into a sort of privileged character;
safe upon that field of carnave, I was glad in one who was
my very heart; and felt that "I could have " Unapt to learn, and forin'd of stubbornstuft." better spared a better man." I have said truly
that Kit was no hero, as his complaint to the Kit was in the company of which I was the colonel on a former occasion had proved; yet Lieutenant; for a while my pupil, but soon, and he had apparently no fear of death. He stood for years, my torment and my plague; and in bis pince-had a pouch full of ball cartridges, oftentimes--I write it with a blush--oftentimes and fired them away in the battle; whether my jest. Upon inspection and review-days, I guilty or innocent of blood, he could not on hid him as well as I could; put him on a rear that occasion know, and little heeded. guard, or in an awkward squad of lately joined How strange to think of such a man receive recruits ; employed him for the day as a cook, / ing THE THANKS OF PARLIAMENT ; as he did in or on fatigue duty, or as a line or barrack Or coinmon with the army many times; and was derly; some out-of-the-way post or corner was perhaps sent to drill by the commanding of found, in which to conceal Kit; but if, owing ficer or adjutant, at ihe very Parade when to untoward circumstances, such an arrange they were read to him, for some awkwardness ment could not be effected, I would get bim or irregularity ;-shared perhaps in victory in well cleaned, and his appointments well put on, the morning, and was for some offence put on by one of the smartest of my corporals ;-and extra fatigue duly the same evening. What then place him in the rear rank, and a clever a strange and complicated machine is an army! tergeant behind, with his eye constantly on How much of “the common" enters into it
Hurrah for liberty and Old England! is the of his complacent eye, that I was fully forcheerful cry of men, enlisted for life, rushing given. He had no hate, no malice, no memointo battle to deal out, and to meet the death ry for wrong ; be was peaceful and gentle; stroke. The victory is won : then comes and passed whole days, playing with a child. again ATTENTION! WORD OF COMMAND AND EX Kit too was now elevated to the dignity of an ERCISE OF ARMS-L'étrange chose que la vie! instructor. He was still simple, but he was no
At the conclusion of the war, and upon the longer silly. He could not read : yes, he could return of the regiment home, the battalion -one of God's books, for he could see; could was reorganized; Kit was no longer in the see the high Heavens, and the starry firmasame company with me, and, except being oc ment; the sun by day, and the moon by casionally thrown on duty near him, I almost night. I have seen him with his little comfort, lost sight of the man. Ai length, after a lapse walking on the ramparts of Fort St. George in of years, he fell again under my notice in In the cool evening; and calmly looking up at dia. I observed about him a very remarkable the bright sky, and out upon the glittering change-an evident improvement. He was ocean; and pointing to the white sail and to far cleverer than he was ever wont to be: bis the anchored vessel, and teaching the child to awkward gait remained, but his look was no stutter out the names of these objects. longer the same. His eye, once so restless, The suffering of those, who are looked upon that used to be looking on every side, as if conas half-crazed or fools, has in it this most biiter stantly expecting either reproof or ridicule, ingredient: they have no mate in their sorrow. was now still and placid; and a beam of con They suffer alone, apart; with a conscioustentment shone in it. He always saluted me ness that they are degraded. Kit's suffering with a look of kind and familiar recognition ; was now all at an end: he was no longer alone and if I occasionally stopped and said a word in the world. But I knew not at this time that to him, replied as if pleased at the notice. he had gotten a higher consolation. I will,
I was much puzzled and perplexed at first some day, said I to myself, speak to him about about this change in a man, whose imbecility his immortal soul, and his hopes of an hereafof mind I had once regarded as alike painful ler. It chanced a few weeks afterwards, that, and hopeless. Upon making a more particular as I was visiting some men of my own company inquiry, I found that, in the company to which in the hospital, in passing down the ward I obhe belonged, he had become attached to the served poor Kit, lying in bed, sick. I sat down little child of one of his comrades, of whom he by him—took his hand, and spoke to him with took as much care as if it had been bis own: tenderness ;-he was very ill. I named the that he spent all his spare pay upon it: that he Redeemer; he knew the sound-knew it, not did his duty quietly, was regular, and neither perhaps as some would have wanted him to troubled his fellow soldiers, nor was troubled know it-but as a sound that had already by them: and that he never associated with touched a chord his humble heart. He had the men, but was always with this little child, heard that all his sins would be forgiven, and who was exceedingly fond of aim.
how; he had simply believed the message, and Here was the secret. I more particularly gratefully accepted the pardon. He had gotobserved him ever after:-I often met him ten wisdom, not knowledge. There was peace, with the child in his hand:-a little common hope, and the joy of a simple confiding trust in looking child—just old enough to trot by his his Redeemer. side, and starmer out its liking-with eyes I visited him again: again the same was his that to him had beauty, for they looked up to enviable state of mind: The next, and last time him with affection. Here was the secret: he I saw him, he was dying and speechless. I had never hitherto found in the cold world any whispered in his dulling ear: he opened his thing to love him, any thing he could love ;-eyes--he knew me-he looked pleased and here was a Heaven-sent object exactly suited happy; he tried to return the pressure of my to his heart's want;ma little stranger in this hand. I placed it on his forehead. The death earth, too young to know, and to take part damps were already on his brow, “He is with, those who despised him. A little thing, pleased,” said the Orderly," to see you, Sir; which perhaps had first attracted his notice he knows you.” “ He was pleased, Friend," when, in the chance absence of its parents, it said I, “ to hear the word of promise in his ear stood terrified and helpless, crying in a tu. -to hear the sound of his Redeemer's namemultuous barrack-room. Poor Kit, who had to hear the word Christ." been buffeted with roughness from his very cradle, had been frightened or laughed out of his wits, and then scorned for having none; had been the sport of the lane or alley in which he was born, and then been driven from the From the London Weekly Review. haunts of home-first to be the butt of his fel. low workmen, and next of those, amongst
MONTGOMERY'S NEW POEM.* whom he had cast in his lot “ to mend his fate
(Unpublished.] or be rid on't"-had now found something to The author of the present work has already lote him.
been noticed pretty frequently in our columns; Oftentimes now, as I met him and the child together, and mused upon this sweet mystery * A Universal Prayer; Death; a Vision of of mercy, did I repent in my heart for the many Heaven; and a Vision of Hell. By Robert sharp words I had once given him; and for my Montgomery, author of the “Omnipresence of many thoughtless and unfeeling smiles at his the Deity," &c. &c. 4to. London, 1828. folly. I saw, however, by the very expression
and we have had occasion to speak of him in The flowing pall with laughing hues of light; terms of great severity. Bad taste and malig Around Life moves his mighty throng, and nity of feeling were ihe charges we brought deep against him. But though we considered it our The deaih-bells boom along the ebbing air: duty to expose his faults, our readers must have But one poor week hath vanishd,-and that perceived an equal readiness on our parts to do form, justice to his merits. Several passages were Now clay-cold in the narrow coffin stretch'd, quoted from his poem, entitled the ** Omni Stalk'd o'er the street that takes him to his presence of the Deity,” with very handsome tomb! commendations, though we at the same time On with the mourning train!—the crowd dismiled at the folly of some of his critics, who
vide placed him on a level with the first poets of Before them with a busy hum, then close the world. We think that he is more accu Behind, like billows by a prow dispers'd, rate, and less bombastic, in the present volume That sever, but to clash and roar again! p. 36. than in the poem just mentioned ; and there is certainly littlo trace of that uncharitable spirit
The following couplet is, we think, extremethat was so obvious in his “ Puffiad" and his ly pretty: , “ Age Reviewed." It would be strange, in. Poor lady! then her thonghts grew into tears, deed, if such a disposition were so conspicuous. And every tear ran burning from her heart ! ly displayed in a work of this nature, though
p. 43. we are compelled to confess that in the poem entitled a Vision of Hell," the subject, Our next extract is a touchtog description of though not the forın, of which must have been a female dying of consumption. suggested by Southey's “ Vision of Judg. ment," there is something of that daring pre
A year hath travell’d o'er the sea of time; sumption and virulent bigotry with which the
And now the shadows of the grave grow dark Laureate has pretended to dive into the hid. Upon the maiden; yet no mournful wail, den councils of the Almighty, and denounce
Or word abrupt, betrays unlovely thoughts eternal damnation to such of his fellow crea
Of gloom and discontent within; she dies Cures, whose religious or political opinions were
As gently as delicious sound; not false different from his own. Notwithstanding this, To present scenes, and yet prepared to die. there is a great deal both of pious and poetical Beautiful resignation, and the hopes feeling in the volume; and as we are weary of That well from out the fountain of her faith, pointing out his faults, as a poet, which, though Have breathed around her a seraphic air less numerous in the present instance, are of of wither'd loveliness. The gloss of life the same description as those we have already and worldly dreams are o'er; but dewy Morn, brought fully home to the author, in our notices
And dim-eyed Eve, and all the inward gleams of his former works, we shall select a few of of rapture, darted from regretted joysthe best passages in the book, and make better Delight her still: and oft when twilight comes, use of our space, than by appropriating any With all the truth of happier days, until
She'll gaze upon the damask glow of heaven portion of it to unfavourable first poem in the volume, entitled the “Univer: A sunny fancy wreathes her faded cheek ;sal Prayer," is the last in merit. It a very
'Tis but a pleasing echo of the past, feeble echo of the “Omnipresence of the A music rolling from remembered hours. p. 61. Deity," in blank verse instead of rhyme. With
The following picture of virtuous old age is all its numerous faulls, that poem had conside. rable spirit and harmony, while there is little
pleasing of either in the “Prayer." The following lines, however, are pleasing.
The grace, the gentleness of virtuous age! And let the young on whose delighted gaze
Though solemn not austere; though wisely The dream of life in hopeful beauty dawns,
dead In their unspotted bosoms treasure thoughts
To passion, and the wildering dreams of hope, Of Thee, to guide them through the cloudy The good old man is honoured and revered,
Not unalive to tenderness and truth, years; And may the old, upon whose gray-worn heads And breathes upon the young limb'd race Past Time has placed an honourable crown,
around, When earth grows dim, and worldly joys'de. The gray and venerable charm of years: cay,
Nor, -glory to the Power that tunes the heart Find heaven advancing as the world retires !
Unto the spirit of the line ! are all
The meditative walk by wood or mead, The next poem, entitled “ Death," like all the loll of streams, and language of the stars, the rest of the volume, is in black verse. The
Heard in the heart alone,--the bosom-life following extract has considerable merit. The Of all that beantified or graced his youth, lines in ltalics are beautiful.
Is still to be enjoy'd, and hallow'd with And in the joyous eve of daily Life,
The feelings flowing from a better world. w frequent death will thrust his woful face!
p. 77. ! where they come, the dark-robed funeral
The author next presents us with some retrain,
flections upon his own youth. inn as silent thunder-clouds athwart on-day sky: from heaven a radiance I sing of Death; yet soon, perchance may be
A dweller in the tomb. But twenty years
Have wither'd, since my pilgrimage began, And all the memories, all the dreams
They woke in floating by,
Could these too die?
They died !-as on the water's breast
The ripple melts away,
When the breeze that stirred it sinks to rest, then, Eternal Spirit, take me to Thy home!
So perished they! For when a child, I shaped inspiring dreams,
Mysterious in their sudden birth, And nourish d aspirations that awoke
And mournful in their close; Beautiful feelings flowing from the face
Passing, and finding not on earth Of Nature; from a child I learn'd to reap
Aim or repose. A harvest of sweet thoughts, for future years.
p. 78, 79. Whence were they?—like the breath of flowers, The Vision of Heaven" is the next poem,
Why thus to come and go?which is succeeded by the « Vision of Hell." A long, long journey must be ours,
Ere this we know !
From the London Weekly Revieu.
LONDON UNIVERSITY. which, though sometimes fervent and impassioned , have too many of the author's peculiar of this infant Institution. We shall now, for
In our last we noticed the auspicious opening fanks to allow of our reading them with plea- the benefit of our country readers, attempt such ure, conclude the volume. Whatever the auther may think, we have perused his work, and
a description of the Buildings as will enable written this brief notice of it, in the most in
them to appreciate the admirable arrangements Julgent spirit ; and shall be glad to convince by which in their erection economy has been bith , or any other person who may have been
made to go hand in hand with utility, and forsurprised at our differing so prodigiously from
mer experiences rendered subservient to the
mutual accoinmodation of teachers and pupils. some of his silly eulogizers, that no personal
The chief access to the University is by selings have influenced our criticism. This
Gower Street, Bedford Square, but there are, 59 never yet been the case, and never will be in this publication.
approaches from the New Road and Tottenham Court Road,
The elevation of the principal or western front, which is wholly of Portland stone, ex
hibits a chaste and most beautiful example of From Friendship's Offering
the Corinthian order. It extends (including MUSIC OF YESTERDAY.
the wings, which when built will project 210 feet towards Gower Street,) 450 feet. The
central compartment is devoted on the ground At the murrunr and the plaint, and the exulting swell,
floor to a magnificent staircase, composed of ad le sharp
seream, which the unequal gust of yester several flights at right angles to each other, di saatebed from the strings of a wind-harp.-Coleridge. and above, to a portico consisting of ten coPar chord, the harp's full chord is hushed,
lumns in front and two in flank, supporting a The voice hath died away,
plain but well proportioned pediment. The bence music, like sweet waters, gushed, façade on each side displays a range of characBut yesterday.
teristic pilasters above, and a happily applied
specimen of horizontal rustic work below. A be wakening note, the breeze-like swell, very effective series of wreaths and guttæ enThe full o'ersweeping tone,
riches, and lends relief to the space between The sounds that sighed "Farewell! farewell!" the tiers of windows. The whole is surmountAre gone-all gone.
ed by a circular dome 36 feet in diameter and The love, whose burning spirit passed
52 feet high, supporting a peristyle of the orWith the rich measure's flow,
der, and terminated by a cross. The wings
when finished will each be furnished with a Tegnef to which it sank at last,
similar portico, and with a dome of the same Where are they now?
description but of inferior dimensions. bey are with the scents, by Summer's breath The principal entrance to the building is Borne from a rose now shed,
through the portico; the ascent to which kaha the words from lips long sealed in (18 feet) is made by the great staircase alluded death
to. Entering the vestibule, which is octagonal, For ever fled!
the effect is remarkably imposing: Iminediately
opposite, and jutting 90 feet from the back the sea-shell, of its native deep
wall, a most splendid saloon, called par excelA thrilling moan retains ;
lence The Hall, attracts the attention of the - earth and air no record keep
visiter : it is intended for public examinations Of parted strains.
and meetings of ceremony. On the right ap
BY MRS. HEMANS.
pears the Great Library, 120 feet by 50, with establishment; and rooms for the Analomical a gallery round, supported by cast iron pillars, School. enveloped in imitation Scagliola. Besides the An insulated building, separated from the windows on each side, this magnificent apart. north court by a high wall, is (together with ment is furnished with lanternal lights from the apartments in the basement just referred to,) roof, or rather from the ceiling, there being appropriated to that department of anatomical horizontal pannels of ground or frosted glass, so instruction, more immediately under the direcarranged as to harmonize with the plaster deco- tion of the Demonstrator. rations. There is a small Library at the fur The whole of the building is well ventilated, ther end of this, calculated to contain 12,000 and most liberally supplied with stairs and the volumes. On the left is the Muscum of Na other means of transit, by which extensive estural History, similar in all respects to the Li tablishments are rendered coinmodious. The brary, but terminated by the Theatre of Anato- Theatres and Class Rooms are well lighted and my, in place of the small Library. The doors furnished with heating apparatus. In the forpresented by the other sides of the octagon mer a precaution is taken to preserve the booklead to staircases or form the entrances to pro- boards and benches from the knife, which is fessors' rooms.
worthy of general adoption. A coating of paint On the ground floor, immediately beneath is laid over when wet, with fine sharp sand and the Hall, and entering from the North Court, allowed to dry; when sufliciently indurated, are two Class Rooms, each 44 feet by 38, and
the particles which have not adhered are swept containing 12 rows of seats for the classes of from the surface, and the wood painted wainscot Roman and Greek Language and Literature,
or whatever colour may bave been determined Mathematics, and English Language. Besides
No boy having the least respect for his the principal entrance by the staircase, there
knife will, we are persuaded, after one trial are two others on the ground floor on each side
and having examined its edge, be hardy enough of the portico; those nearer the centre lead
to venture on a second. each to two Class Rooms and Cloisters, and the
Besides the Cloisters there are two Courts others to apartments for the accommodation of for exercise; but they are, we are certain, by the professors, and to the offices of the Institu. no means of the dinensions that would have tion. The rooms in the north range are re
been chosen had the limits of the ground perspectively appropriated to Italian Language mitted their extension. and Literature, French Language, Spanish and
The Grand Entrance, when completed, will English Literature, and Jurisprudence and
be one of the most magnificent in the metropo. English Law, and to the Nature and Treatment
lis. The staircase and portico above are such of Diseases, Physiology, Comparative Anato.
as Mr. Martin delights to honour and to intro. my and Zoology, Clinical Medicine, Surgery,
duce into his splendid and unrivalled examples and Clinical Surgery. The corresponding
of architectural perspective. We cannot but rooms in the south range accommodate classes regret, however, ihat Mr. Wilkins has adopted for Political Economy, German Language and
the Corinthian for his order : he has evidently Literature, and the fiebrero, Spanish, and Ita. given it the preference for the purpose of introlian Languages. Each of these rooms (46 by ducing his staircase, and of enabling him to 24) is furnished with six rows of ascending throw the principal entrance on the first floor, seats, with book-boards, and a raised platform objects which he could not have attained had for the professor. Behind are Cloisters for the
the massive proportions of the Doric been emuse of the students during the intervals of lec
ployed. The voluptuous Corinthian is indeed tures, and in inclement weather. There are
as inuch from home in the portico of a building also on this floor appropriate apartments for the
such as this, as are the gravity and grandeur of use of the professors, the Chemical Laboratory
the Grecian Doric in the decorations of a Theand the Muscums of Botany and Materia Me.
atre, such as Convent Garden. We are afraid, dica.
besides, that in straining at his favourite obThe Theatres of the Institution are provided
jects, Mr. Wilkins has sacrificed architectural
proportions in his intercolumniations. The cofor in back wings at each end of the building, lurons are three feet in diameter, and ten diand havo access from the courts. In the first
ameters high; while from centre to centre the floor of the north wing lectures are delivered on Midwifery, and on Anatomy and Operative ters and three quarters, where it ought to have
distance is only 8 feet 44 inches, or two dianeSurgery : those on Materia Medica and Chem- been three diameters at least. istry, in the Theatre immediately below. The We cannot conclude this notice without exsouth wing is appropriated above, to Natural pressing our admiration at the manner in Philosophy and Astronomy, and below to Bota
which the operations have been conducted and ny, Geology, &c. These Theatres are 65 feet brought to their present state of forwardness. by 50, with semicircular ends, and are fitted up
Here, indeed, and at St. Katharine Docks, there with ten rows of concentric benches rising six
must have been some systein of co-operation teen inches above each other, and with such ac.
pursued by employers, architects, and contraccommodation for the professors as the respec.
tors, fundamentally different from that by live subjects of lecture render necessary. which, during the last five years, the New Post
The basement floor contains two spacious Office has been made to drag its slow length apartments fitted up as Common Rooms with along. tables, &c. for the use of the students; Refresh. Though comparisons are generally odions, meni Rooms for the accommodation of such as we cannot resist enabling the “ gownmen" of reside at a distance; apartments for the stew Oxford and Cambridge to compare their rates ard and housekeeper and the domestics of the of protende with those of Mr. Stuckey, the