ill-secured place in the leaf thatch could not resist, and large drops fell upon the sufferer. With much difficulty, he succeeded in moving his burning head out of the way, but his body was so swelled that it was almost impossible to move. No friendly hand was near to present a cooling beverage, or to prevent the rain from entering. The Indian, who had been left by the others to watch, convinced that death had taken place, and seized with superstitious fear, had long before filed to his com panions. It was not till morning that cu riosity attracted some persons, and relieved him from his painful situation. The succeeding days passed in great agony, for a large wound had been formed, and indications of the poison long remained.

A fortnight elapsed (says the Doctor) be fore I was able, with the assistance of an Indian, to leave my bed, and, stretched on the skin of an ounce before the door of my hut, again to enjoy the pure air and a more cheerful prospect. It was a lovely mild morning; several trees of the most beautiful kinds had blossomed during my imprisonment, and now looked invitingly from the neighbouring wood. The gay butterflies sported familiarly around, and the voices of the birds sounded cheerfully from the crowns of the trees. As if desirous to reconcile her faithful disciple, and to make him forget what he had suffered, Nature appeared in her most festive dress. Gratitude and emotion filled my heart, for certainly the goodness of the Supreme Power, in His care of man, is manifested in nothing so much as the faculty, originally bestowed upon every individual, of finding in the intercourse with the beauteous world of plants and animals, even under the pressure of severe suffering, a never-failing source of consolation and of joy.

RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF THE HOUSE OF

LORDS.

[THIS volume is a companion to a similar work on the House of Commons, published a few months since, with very considerable success. Such good fortune has not surprised us, as the book possesses so large a share of that personal interest which secures temporary if not lasting popularity. The present volume likewise possesses this attraction to a great extent, as our extracts show; the first of which may be said to occupy a similar station in merit. It is, indeed, a happy specimen of facile, descriptive writing.]

The King.

In person the King is about the middle height. He can scarcely be said to be corpulent, but his stoutness approaches to it. His shoulders are rather high, and of unusual breadth. His neck has consequently an appearance of being shorter than it is in

reality. He walks with a quick but short step. He is not a good walker. I know of no phrase which could more strikingly characterize his mode of walking than to say"he waddles." The latter is not a very classical term, but in the present case it is peculiarly expressive. His face is round and full. His complexion is something between dark and sallow. What the colour of his hair is, I cannot positively say, as on every occasion on which I have seen him, he had either the crown or a hat on his head. As far as I could form a judgment, it is of a light brown. His features are small, and not very strongly marked, considering his advanced age. His nose is short and broad, rather than otherwise. His forehead is pretty ample both in breadth and height, but has a flatness about it which deprives it of any intellectual expression. His large, light-grey eyes are quick in their movements, and clear and piercing in their glances. His countenance is highly indicative of good nature blended with bluntness. You see nothing either in his appearance or manners that would lead you to infer that he was other than a plain country gentleman. That he is good-hearted, and unaffectedly simple in his demeanour, is a fact of which you are convinced the very first glance you get of him. The beadle of a parish, when clothed in his cloak of office, struts about at the church-door with an air of immeasurably greater self-importance than William the Fourth exhibits when he meets in state the Nobles and Commoners of the land. You cannot help thinking that he wishes in his heart he could either dispense with the prescriptive ceremonies he has to go through at the opening and closing of each session, or that, in the overflowing kindness of his soul, he forgets at the time he is the Sovereign of these realms. His every look and movement furnish evidence not to be mistaken, of the man triumphing over the monarch. It is clearly with difficulty that, in the midst of the procession to the throne, he restrains himself from suddenly stepping aside to shake hands with every nobleman he sees around him. As it is-contrary to the usual practice of kings on such occasions he nods, and evidently says in his own mind, "How do you do?" to every peer he passes. Of his extreme good nature and simplicity of manners he gave several striking proofs at the opening of the present session. The day was unusually gloomy, which, added to an imperfection in his visual organs consequent on advanced years, and to the darkness of the present House of Lords, especially in the place where the throne is situated,rendered it impossible for him to read the Royal Speech with facility. Most patiently and goodnaturedly did he struggle with the task, often hesitating, sometimes mistaking,

and at others correcting himself. On one occasion he stuck altogether, when, after two or three ineffectual efforts to make out the word, he was obliged to give it up, when, turning to Lord Melbourne, who stood on his right hand, and looking him most significantly in the face, he said, in a tone suffi ciently loud to be audible in all parts of the House, "Eh! what is it?" The infinite good nature and bluntness with which the question was put, would have reconciled the most inveterate republican to monarchy in England, so long as it is embodied in the person of William the Fourth. Lord Melbourne having whispered the obstructing word, the King proceeded to toil through the speech, but, by the time he got to about the middle, the Librarian brought him two wax tapers, on which he suddenly paused, and raising his head, and looking at the Lords and Commons, he addressed them on the spur of the moment in a perfectly distinct voice, and without the least embarrass ment or the mistake of a single word, in these terms:

"My Lords and Gentlemen,

"I have hitherto, not been able, from want of light, to read this speech in the way its importance deserves; but, as lights are now brought me, I will read it again from the commencement, and in a way which, I trust, will command your attention."

He then again, though evidently fatigued by the difficulty of reading in the first in stance, began at the beginning, and read through the speech in a manner which would have done credit to any professor of elocution, though it was clear he laboured under a slight hoarseness, caused most probably by cold. The sparkling of the diamonds in the crown, owing to the reflection caused by the lighted candles, had a fine effect. Probably this was the first occasion on which a King of England ever read his speech by candle light, at the opening of his Parliament.

Shakspeare lays it down as a maxim"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." In this Shakspeare is wrong. It is, no doubt, true as a general rule; but it does not admit of universal application. Had Shakspeare lived in the reign of William the Fourth, he would never have penned the observation in the unqualified way in which it stands. He would have seen in the person of our present Sovereign an exception to the rule. His head does not lie uneasily. The Crown sits lightly on it. Not that he is indifferent about the welfare of his subjects; far from it; but because he believes that they live under a mild and paternal and enlightened Government, and that, conscious of nothing but the most kindly feelings towards them, he never allows his mind to be haunted for one moment with any suspicion

of their loyalty to his person or fidelity to his throne. It is one of the irresistible tendencies of his nature to look on the sunny side of the picture; in this case his unsuspect ing disposition will not betray him into any error. The generous confidence he reposes in the friendly feelings of his subjects to wards him, is not misplaced. Few monarchs have reigned more in the affections of his subjects than does William the Fourth of England.

What I have said respecting the opening of the present session applies in the main to the opening of every session when the king is personally present. When he is absent, the opening takes place by commission, the Lord Chancellor, or Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, reading his speech from the woolsack.

The Great Seal.

There is nothing of which one hears so frequently, or of which so little is known, as the Great Seal. The statement, so often made in giving an account of the proceedings in the Upper House, of the Lord Chancellor carrying it before him, is altogether a fiction. His Lordship merely carsited when he receives it from the King, or ries before him the bag in which it is depo when, on his retirement from office, he delivers it up into his Majesty's hands. This bag is embroidered with tassels of gold, silver, and silk, beautifully worked together. His Majesty's arms are on both sides. The bag is about twelve inches square. The Great Seal is made of silver, and measures seven inches in diameter. It is in two parts, and is attached to the letters patent by a ribbon or slip of parchment, inserted at the bottom of the instrument through a slit made for the purpose. The ends of the ribbon or parch ment are put into the seal, and the wax is poured into an orifice left at the top of the Seal for the purpose. The Seal is one inch and a half thick when fixed to receive the wax. The impression of the Seal is exactly six inches in diameter, and three quarters of an inch in thickness.

The obverse represents the King on horse back, habited in a flowing mantle, holding a marshal's baton in his right hand; in the background is a ship in full sail, surrounded with the legend, Gulielmus Quartus Dei Gratia Britanniarum Rex. Fidei Defensor: under the foreground of the figure is a trident within a wreath of oak. The reverse represents the King crowned, and in his coronas tion robes, holding the sceptre and mound, seated in St. Edward's Chair; on his right hand is Britannia, Peace, and Plenty; on his left, Neptune holding his trident, Religion, and Faith; over the head of the King are the Arms of England surrounded with palm leaves, and under his feet a caduceus, the whole within a border of oak leaves and

acorns. On every new accession to the throne a new Seal is struck, and the old one. is cut into four pieces, and deposited in the Tower. The die for the present Seal was struck by Mr. Benjamin Wyon, and is allow ed on all hands to be unrivalled as a work of art.

Sleeping Peers.

You will never, on any occasion, from the commencement to the close of a session, observe any of the Peers lying horizontally on the seats, which is so general a practice in the other House. They have too high a sense of their own dignity for that. Neither do you, with two exceptions, ever see any of them somnolent. The exceptions I refer to are a Ministerial Duke and a member of the Right Rev. Bench of Bishops. His Grace has not been very regular in his attendance of late: formerly he was very exemplary in his legislative conduct in so far as his presence and his votes were concerned; but he never heard a word of the debates. No matter how important the question, or who were the speakers,-there he sat firmly locked in the arms of Morpheus, with his head half buried in his breast. He always sat, as Milton would have said, "apart by himself." What is worthy of observation is, that he was most regular in his attendance when there was no subject of importance before the House; and when, consequently, the benches were comparatively empty. If there was one bench on his side of the House which was unocccupied, on it he was sure to seat himself. The Right Rev. Prelate to whom I refer has not quite so strong a disposition to somnolency: he only addresses himself to sleep occasionally during the proceedings; but when he does go, there is no mistake about the matter. Soundly and well does he sleep. Nothing will awake him until he has had his nap out. Not even the thunders of Lord Brougham's eloquence, when in his most violent and impassioned moods, have the slightest effect in the way of disturbing the Right Rev. Prelate's slumbers. While the Lord Chancellor, in the debate on the Irish Tithes Bill, in August, 1834, was causing the walls of the House to resound with the fierce invectives he hurled at "all and sundry" opposed to Ministers, and especially at the devoted head of the Earl of Mansfield, the Right Rev. Bishop slept as "sweetly" as if his Lordship had only been singing a lullaby. The zest with which he enjoys a stolen slumber appears to be so great, that he must often, on awaking, have cordially concurred with Sancho Panza in invoking a thousand blessings on the head of him who invented sleep. In fact, the profoundness of his slumbers seems to be in proportion to the loudness of the tones of the speaker. How profound, if this hypo

thesis be a correct one, would be his Reverence's repose in the immediate vicinity of the Falls of Niagara! Byron loved the ocean's roar. The roar of this mighty cataract would be "nost sweet music" to the Right Rev. Prelate's ears.

The Duke of Buckingham

Is sure to attract the attention of a stranger in the House, whether he happens to speak or not. His personal proportions are of a very unusual size. You may walk six months in the streets of London before you encounter so stout a man. His frame is, doubtless, naturally corpulent, and an easy disposition of mind, a lite of indolence, and good living, have, in his case, effectually seconded Nature's purposes. He is pot-bellied, and rejoices in a face, the size of which does no discredit to his general stoutness. The complexion of his countenance has something of a sallowness about it, and his hair is of a dark, brown colour. He has large, laughing eyes, deeply set: his features generally are highly indicative of that species of cheerfulness which may be most justly characterized by the term, "jolly!" When speaking of an opponent, or even looking at him from his seat, you see, from a peculiar expression in his eye, a lurking disposition to be sarcastic at his expense. In the chapter on "Scenes in the House," I have given a lively one, in which his Grace was the principal performer. As there mentioned, there was something in his looks, as well as in the tones of his voice, of so very quizzical a kind, that Lord Brougham must have been as much stung by them as by the words themselves. Any one who chanced to observe the countenance of the noble Duke a little before he made the onset, must, though the merest novice in physiognomy, have perceived how he was, in his own mind, quizzing the Lord Chancellor. As a speaker, he has no pretensions to distinction. His style is bad; it is usually rough and incorrect. His matter is, if pos sible, still worse; ideas, he has few or none: the commodities in which he chiefly deals are declamation and rhapsody. If it be a sin to mangle figures of speech, and grossly to pervert the best tropes of other men, by applying them to some absurd matter of his own, never was public man more guilty than his Grace.

The Gatherer.

Chatterton.-Poor Chatterton! "the sleep.. less boy who perished in his pride," overcome by the pressure of poverty, and stung to the quick by heartless neglect, began his immorFor two tality in a garret in Shoreditch. days previous to his death he had eaten nothing; his landlady, pitying his desolate

condition, offered him a dinner, which he indignantly refused, saying he was not hungry, and, soon after, put an end to his existence by poison. Crowds inflicted elegies on his memory, the length and breadth of which filled volumes; while the subject of these doleful tributes lies buried in a common workhouse in Shoe-lane, unnoticed by epitaph or eulogy.

G. H. Fielding.-A literary friend one day called to pay Fielding a visit, and found him in a miserable garret, without either furniture or convenience, seated on a gin-tub turned up for a table, with a half-emptied glass of brandy-and-water in his hand. This was the idea of consummate happiness entertained by the author of Tom Jones, - by him whose genius handed down to posterity the inimitable character of Square, with his "eternal fitness of things."

G. H.

Anchovies.-A piece of anchovy almost instantly restores the just tone of voice to any one who has become hoarse by public speaking.

Split Peas.-Peas, when split, lose much of their flavour.

Oriental Inscription.-Ferose the Second, Emperor of India, being engaged in a military expedition, caused his army to halt while he erected a choualtry, or resting-place for wayfarers; and considering that he was very old, and soon to die, placed on its wall the following inscription:-"I who press with my foot the celestial pavement,-what fame should I acquire from a heap of stones and mortar? No; I have piled these broken rocks together, that here, perhaps, the weary traveller, or broken hearted, may find repose." -Dow's Indostan.

The Swan-upping Day was fixed by the swan-law, (instituted in 1570,) on the Monday after St. Peter's Day.

Venison.-In August, 1573, the Common Council of London forbade the venison-feasts in the halls of the City, from their being offensive to Queen Elizabeth.

Homicide.-It was one of the maritime laws of Richard I., that the homicide should be tied to the dead body, and cast into the sea.

Katerfelto, the conjuror, did not die at Bristol, as stated by a Correspondent, at page: 132, vol. xvii. of the Mirror; but at Bedale, a market town, in the North Riding of Yorkshire. He was buried in the church there nearly facing the altar-rails; and over his remains is a stone with this inscription:

w

Here Lye the Remains

of Dr. Katerfelto,

Philosopher,

Who died November 15th, 1799,

Aged 56

years.

cats, at an inn or public house. His widow," shortly after his death, married John Carter, a tailor: she soon taught her new spouse Dr. Katerfelto's art, which he practised at Leeds. They subsequently went to America. E. T. S.

Curious Plant.-In the island of Cuba, is a plant which emits such an intense perfume as to be perceived at the distance of two or three miles. It is of the species Tetracera, and remarkable for bearing leaves so hard that they are used by the native cabinetmakers, and other mechanics, for various kinds of work. It is a climbing plant, which reaches the tops of the loftiest trees of the forest, then spreads far around, and in the rainy season is covered with innumerable bunches of sweet-smelling flowers, which, however, dispense their perfume during the night only, and are almost without scent in the daytime.-Poeppig's Travels.

The Chilians.-The shaking off the Spanish yoke, the rapid rise of commerce, and a sense of personal and national dignity, have not only influenced the moral character of the people of Chili, but have also extended their efforts to the external appearances and Hence a greater forms of ordinary life. change has taken place in the aspect of Valparaiso during the last ten or twenty years than in a whole century after the visit of Fre-zier and Feuillé. Since that time, the num

ber of the houses and of the inhabitants has

more than doubled. The wretched huts, in which even the rich were formerly contented to dwell, are gradually disappearing; and though it cannot be said that handsome buildings arise in their stead, yet the Chilian has learned to relish the comfort of houses in the European fashion, and to imitate them; and it may be expected, that Valparaiso, in a few years, will not bear the most distant resemblance to the dirty, disagreeable place which presented itself to the stranger on his first arrival there after the beginning of the Revolution.-Ibid.

Epitaphs.

From a stone let into the western wall of
Barnet-Friarn Church, Finchley Common.
Stand Back I pray oh' doe not tread upon
A tender Budd cropt off before well blowne
Religion Beauty work s Peace Prudence those
And all thats good, yea lo'ue e'uen unto Foes,
Hath florisht in this late sweet wife of Rose.

Decd. 22 May, 1668, Æts. 27.

Her junior Brother as God would ha'ue,
Tooke place before her in this Grave.
Feb. 1630, Æts. 12.

WE resume our outline of the Court with the above illustration, from one of the plates in Messrs. Britton and Brayley's work. It shows the apartment as it appeared shortly before its demolition. The ceiling was of oak, and had been very curiously devised in moulded compartments, ornamented with roses, pomegranates, portcullises, and fleurs. de-lis: it had also been gilt, and diversely coloured; though, we believe, it had not a trace of the gilt stars, from which the Court was named. This chamber was, however, only of the reign of Elizabeth, and not the original one, as already explained.*

Mr. Bruce commences his Second Letter by observing, that the causes determined by the Council during the reigns of Henry VI., One of our first subscribers and readers, whom it gives us pleasure to have gratified in this outline, has acquainted us, that Drawings of the interior of the Star Chamber, (some eighteen or twenty in number,) showing the enriched ceiling, mantelpieces, &c., with details from actual admeasurement, were made by Mr. Cole, jun., 60, Great Queen-street, Lincoln's Inu Fields, a short time previous to the demolition of the building. These Drawings were exhibited at a recent meeting of the Architectural Society.

VOL. XXVII.

Y

Edward IV., and Richard III., although important and interesting in themselves, are not of such a character as can well be brought within the limits of a rapid sketch like the present; the object of which is not to enumerate all, or even many, of the cases determined in the Star Chamber, but to give a general notion of the practices which prevailed there, and the spirit which pervaded its decisions, during the several periods of its existence.

The reign of Henry VII. is an epoch in the history of the Star Chamber. That monarch appears to have had a fondness for sitting in person with his Council upon judicial occasions; and, during the first and second years of his reign, held "twelve several stately sessions" in the Star Chamber: but Mr. Bruce has not found any instances of his Majesty's judicial wisdom, though he had called around him a learned council.

During the reign of Henry VII., our attention is not so much drawn to the particular cases determined in the Star Chamber, as to the general system which prevailed there. This Court was the instrument by which the 777