CLOSING THE EYES. For the Table Book. A GIPSY'S FUNÉRAL. EPPING FOREST. It was considered a mark of the strongest affection by the ancients, that a son, when his father was dying, should lean over him and receive his last gasp, "and kiss his spirit into happy rest.” The Jews, Greeks, and Romans, esteemed it a high privilege for the nearest relative to close the eyes of the deceased body; as in Genesis, when Jacob's sun was setting, Joseph shall put his hands upon thine eyes." And in another place," The memory of the father is preserved in the son." Again, (contra) "I have no son to keep my name in remembrance." And in Homer, "Let not the glory of his eyes depart, without the tender hand to move it silently to peace." Ovid says, "Ille meos oculos comprimat, ille tuos." The performing this ceremony was so valued, that to die without friends to the due observance of this affectionate and last testimony, was thought an irreparable affliction. The sudden death of a man was attributed to Apollo; of a woman, to Diana. If any relation were present, a vessel of brass was procured, and beaten loudly in the ears of the deceased to determine the point. The ringing of bells by the Romans, and others to this day is practised. The Irish wake partakes also of this usage. When the moon was in eclipse, she was thought asleep, and bells were rung to wake her: the eclipse having past, and the moon recovered her light, faith in this noisy custom became strengthened. Euripides says, when Hyppolitus was dying, he called on his father to close his eyes, cover his face with a cloth, and put a shroud over the corpse. Cassandra, desirous of proving the Trojan cause better than that of the Greeks, eulogizes their happy condition in dying at home, where the obsequies might be performed for them by their nearest relatives. Medea tells her children she once hoped they would have performed the duty for her, but she must do it for them. If a father, or the mother died a widow, the children attended to it: if the husband died, the wife performed it; which the Greeks lamented could not be done if they died at Troy. The duty devolved on the sister if her brother died; which caused Orestes to exclaim, when he was to suffer death so far from his home-"Alas! how shall my sister shroud me now?” Last month I was gratified by observin the funereal attentions of the gipsy trile to Cooper, then lying in state on a c mon, near Epping forest. The corpse in a tent clothed with white linen; cand flowers and blossoms of the season wei were lighted over the body, on which ford strewn and hung in posies. Cooper's w dressed in black, perceiving I did not w to see the face of her husband, said in pe fect naïveté, "Oh, sir, don't fear to look him, I never saw his countenance so ples sant in all my life." A wit might ha construed this sentence otherwise; but te much kindness emanated from this scene; of rustic association to admit of levity Her partner was cold, and her heart bea the pulsations of widowhood. The pictur would have caught an artist's eye. The gipsy-friends and relations sat mutely the adjoining tents; and, like Job and his comforters, absorbed their grief in the silence of the summer air and their breasts When Cooper was put in his coffin, the same feeling of attachment pervaded the scene. A train of several pairs, suitably clothed, followed their friend to the grave, and he was buried at the neighbouring church in quiet solemnity. In addition to this, I transcribe a notice from a MS. journal, kept by a member of my family, 1769, which confirms the custom above alluded to. "Here was just buried in the church, (Tring,) the sister of the queen of the gipsies, to whom it is designed by her husband, to erect a monument to her memory of 207. price. He is going to be married to the queen (sister to the deceased.) He offered 201. to the clergyman · to marry him directly; but he had not been in the town a month, so could not be mar ried till that time. When this takes place, an entertainment will be made, and 201. or 301. spent. Just above esquire Gore's park these destiny readers have a camp, at which place the woman died; immediately after which, the survivors took all her wearing apparel and burnt them, including silk gowns, rich laces, silver buckles, gold ear rings, trinkets, &c.,-for such is their cus tom." ST. JAMES'S PARK. 'Twas June, and many a gossip wench, Boys, nursemaids sat, a varying race; At length two females cross'd the walk, And occupied the vacant space. In years they seem'd some forty-four, And each a gown of bombasin; Was one, and one was Mrs. Burns. They talk'd of little Jane and John, And hoped they'd come before 'twas dark; Then wonder'd why with pattens on One might not walk across the park: And thought it strange, since flour was down, They said last Monday's heavy gales I don'd my gloves, to march away, "Good heavens!" I cried, "tis Nancy Gray." 'Twas Nancy, whom I led along "Is this," I cried, in grief profound, Is this of lovely twenty-two, But, ere I enter'd Cleveland-row, Sir, We know that every thing in this world changes in the course of a few years; but what I am about to communicate to you is a change indeed.-"I've been roaming;" and in my city rounds I find the present residence and profession of the undernamed parties to be as follows: ADAM is now an orange-merchant in Lower Thames-street; and a counseller in Old-square, Lincoln's-inn. EVE is a stove-grate manufacturer in Lud gate-hill; and a sheep-salesman at 41, West Smithfield, CAIN is a builder at 22, Prince's-row, Pimlico; and a surgeon, 154, Whitechapel-road. ABEL is a dealer in china at 4, Crownstreet, Soho; and a glover at 153, St. John-street-road. MOSES is a slopseller at 4, James-place, Aldgate; and a clothes-salesman in Sparrow-corner, Minories. AARON is a pawnbroker in Houndsditch, No. 129; and an oilman at Aldgate. ABRAHAM keeps a childbed-linen-warehouse at 53, Houndsditch; and is a special pleader in Pump-court, in the Temple. BENJAMIN is a fishmonger at 5, Duke'splace. MORDECAI keeps a clothes-shop near Shoreditch church. ABSALOM is a tailor at No. 9, Bridge-road, Lambeth. PETER is a cotton-dyer in Brick-lane. I am, &c. SAM SAM'S SON. THE TABLE BOOK. The top of the mountain along the edges is The span of the grand arch is 180 feet; 66 There is a Roger Rain's" House, from its always dripping there. A little further on is a place called the Devil's Wine Cellar, from which is a descent of 150 feet; it becomes terrific in the extreme: immense arches throw their gloomy and gigantic spans above; and the abyss on one side, which it is impossible for the vision to penetrate to the bottom, adds to the intensity of the horror. This wonderful subterraneous mansion is 2250 feet in length. 30th. At Bakewell, one of the pleasantest of the small towns in England, there is an excellent hotel, called the Rut 16 land Arms, belonging to the Rutland family, and under its patronage. The church is situated on a rising ground. There is a neat stone bridge over the river Wye, and the silvery stream winds the adjoining vale. The view from the church-yard is enchanting. The two rivers, the Wye and Derwent, form a junction at some little dissloping their gentle elevations. Haddon tance, and beyond are wood-tufted hills Hall, one of the finest and most perfect of kingdom, is seen embosomed in the deep the ancient baronial residences in the woods. Bakewell is celebrated as a fishing sta- tomb of one who had been rather a licen- Epitaph. "Know posterity, that on the 8th of April, 1737, the rambling remains of John Dale were, in the 86th year of his age, laid upon his two wives. "This thing in life might raise some jealousy, A period's come to all their toilsome lives, The good man's quiet-still are both his wives.” Another. "The vocal powers here let ns mark June, 1827. BRIBERY. E. J. H. be distributed among the members of parCharles V. sent over 400,000 crowns, to liament, in bribes and pensions, to induce and his son Philip. This was the first inthem to confirm a marriage between Mary stance in which public bribery was exercised in England by a foreign power. For the Table Book. PETER HERVE. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN VIRTUE AND DEATH, ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES PEMBERTON, KNIGHT, WHO DEPARTed this Life THE 8TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1613. He was lord mayor of London in the reign of James I., and was a great benefactor to several charities. Vertue. What Vertue challengeth, is but her right. Death. What Death layes claime to who can contradict? Ver. Vertue, whose power exceeds all other might. Dea. Wher's Vertue's power when Death makes all submit? Ver. I gave him life and therefore he is mine. Ver. Because (by nature) all are born to dye. Ver. No, Death, thou art deceiued, thy enuions stroke Hath given him life immortal 'gainst thy will: Dea. What life can be, but vanished as smoake? Ver. A life that all thy darts can never kill. Dea. Haue I not locked his body in my graue? Ver. That was but dust, and that I pray thee keepe. Dea. That is as much as I desire to haue, His comely shape in my eternal sleepe. Ver. But wher's his honorable life, renowne, and fame ? Dea. They are but breath, them I resign to thee. To the Editor. Sir, Having had the happiness and honour of holding correspondence with that most benevolent man, Mr. Peter Hervé, whose death I deeply deplore, I shall feel myself relieved from a debt due to his memory, if you will allow me, through the medium of your valuable publication, to express my hope that he was not, in the time of need, forgotten by that society of which he was the honoured founder. His last letter told me he was ill and in distress; and had been advised to try the air of the south of France, with scarcely any means of pursuing his journey but by the sale of his drawings. My own inability to serve him made me hesitate; and I am shocked to say, his letter was not answered. I am sorry, but repentance will not come too late, if this hint will have any weight towards procuring for his amiable widow, from that admirable institution, a genteel, if not an ample independence: for certain I am, that he could not have made choice of any one who had not a heart generous as his own. CABALISTIC ERUDITION." Nothing can exceed the followers of cabalistical mysteries, in point of fantastical conceits. The learned Godwin recounts some of them. "Abraham," they say, wept but little for Sarah, probably because she was old." They prove this by producing the letter" Caph," which being a remarkably small letter, and being made use of in the Hebrew word which describes Abraham's tears, evinces, they affirm, that his grief also was small. The Cabalists discovered likewise, that in the two Hebrew words, signifying man " and "woman," are contained two letters, which, together, form one of the names of "God;" but if these letters be taken away, there remain letters which signify “fire.” "Hence," argue the Cabalists, we may find that when man and wife agree together, and live in union, God is with them, but when they separate themselves from God, fire attends their footsteps." Such are the whimsical dogmas of the Jewish Cabala. |