Loe raamatut: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 485, April 16, 1831», lehekülg 3
Why were all the great forests pierced by those long rectilinear alleys which appear in old prints, and are mentioned in old books?
Because the avenues were particularly necessary for those large parties, resembling our modern battues, where the honoured guests being stationed in fit standings, had an opportunity of displaying their skill in venery by selecting the buck which was in season, and their dexterity at bringing him down with the cross-bow or long-bow.
Why should a deer-park exhibit but little artificial arrangement in its disposal?
Because the stag, by nature one of the freest denizens of the forest, can only be kept even under comparative restraint, by taking care that all around him intimates a complete state of forest and wilderness. Thus, there ought to be a variety of broken ground, of copse-wood, and of growing timber—of land, and of water. The soil and herbage must be left in its natural state; the long fern, amongst which the fawns delight to repose, must not be destroyed.
Why did the common people formerly call the forest “good,” and the greenwood “merry?”
Because of the pleasure they took in the scenes themselves, as well as in the pastimes which they afforded.
Why is a short gallop called a canter?
Because of its abbreviation from Canterbury, the name of the pace used by the monks in going to that city.
Why was a certain noise called the “hunt’s-up?”
Because it was made to rouse a person in a morning; originally a tune played to wake the sportsmen, and call them together, the purport of which was, The hunt is up! which was the subject of hunting ballads also.
This expression is common among the older poets. One Gray, it is said, grew into good estimation with Henry VIII. and the Duke of Somerset, “for making certaine merry ballades, whereof one chiefly was, the hunte is up! the hunte is up!” Shakspeare has—
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day.
Romeo and Juliet.
Again, in Drayton’s Polyolbion—
No sooner doth the earth her flow’ry bosom brave,
At such time as the year brings on the pleasant spring,
But hunts-up to the morn the feather’d sylvans sing.
Why is a small hunting horn called a bugle?
Because of its origin from bugill, which means a buffalo, or perhaps any horned cattle. In the Scottish dialect it was bogle, or bowgill. Buffe, bugle, and buffalo, are all given by Barrett, as synonimous for the wild ox.—Nares’ Glossary.
Why is the stirrup so called?
Because of its origin from stigh-rope, from stigan ascendere, to mount; and thus termed by our Saxon ancestors, from a rope being used for mounting when stirrups began to be used in this island. It is evident, from various monuments of antiquity, that, at first, horsemen rode without either saddles or stirrups.
Why are sportsmen said to hunt counter?
Because they hunt the wrong way, and trace the scent backwards. Thus, in an old-work, Gentleman’s Recreations: “When the hounds or beagles hunt it by the heel, we say they hunt counter.” To hunt by the heel must be to go towards the heel instead of the toe of the game—i.e. backwards.—Nares.
WEATHER AT PARIS
It appears from observations made at the Royal Observatory in Paris, that, in the year 1830, the number of fine days was 164; of cloudy, 181; of rainy, 149; of foggy, 228; of frosty, 28; of snowy, 24; of sleety, 8; of thundery, 13. The wind was northerly 44 times; north-easterly, 23 times; easterly, 17 times; south-easterly, 23 times; southerly, 74 times; south-westerly, 69 times; westerly, 71 times; and north-westerly, 47 times.—New Monthly Magazine.
BEER HOUSES
It appears, from Parliamentary Returns, that five thousand three hundred and seventy-nine “beer houses” have been opened under the new Act in England and Wales; while the number of public-houses licensed is forty-five thousand six hundred and twenty-four. The number of beer-houses opened in Wales, is one thousand seven hundred and seventy-three, nearly half the number opened in all England—the number for England is three thousand six hundred and six.—Ib.
SAVINGS' BANKS
According to a Parliamentary Return just printed, the gross amount of sums received on account of savings’ banks is, since their establishment in 1817, 20,760,228l. Amount of sums paid, 5,648,338l. The balance therefore is, 15,111,890l. It also states that the gross amount of interest paid and credited to savings’ banks by the commissioners for the reduction of the national debt is, 5,141,410l. 8s. 7d.—Ibid.
SOAP
According to the Parliamentary Returns, the quantity of soap charged with the excise duty in great Britain, in the year ending the 5th of January, 1830, was—of hard soap, 103,041,961 lbs.; of soft soap, 9,068,918 lbs. In the year ending the 5th of January last, the quantity was—of hard, 117,324,320 lbs.; and of soft, 10,209,519 lbs. The number of licenses granted to soap-makers in the United Kingdom in the former year was 585, and in the latter 542.—Ib.
AUTOGRAPHS
We have the pleasure of resuming these innate illustrations of genius. Some of the present specimens are copied from the plate appended to the Edinburgh Literary Journal, whence the page in No. 478 of the Mirror was taken. First is
LEIGH HUNT.—Leigh Hunt’s writing is a good deal like the man: it is constrainedly easy, with an affectation of ornament, yet withal a good hand. The signature is copied from a letter written to a friend in Edinburgh, in 1820; and as one part of this letter is curious and interesting, we have pleasure in presenting it to our readers. We are inclined to believe that there are many good points about Leigh Hunt. We like the spirit of the following extract from his letter:—
“And this reminds me to tell you, that I am not the author of the book called the Scottish Fiddle, which I have barely seen. The name alone, if you had known me, would have convinced you that I could not have been the author. I had made quite mistakes enough about Sir Walter, not to have to answer for this too. I took him for a mere courtier and political bigot. When I read his novels, which I did very lately, at one large glut (with the exception of the Black Dwarf, which I read before), I found that when he spoke so charitably of the mistakes of kings and bigots, he spoke out of an abundance of knowledge, instead of narrowness, and that he could look with a kind eye also at the mistakes of the people. If I still think he has too great a leaning to the former, and that his humanity is a little too much embittered with spleen, I can still see and respect the vast difference between the spirit which I formerly thought I saw in him, and the little lurking contempts and misanthropies of a naturally wise and kind man, whose blood perhaps has been somewhat saddened by the united force of thinking and sickliness. He wishes us all so well that he is angry at not finding us better. His works occupy the best part of some book-shelves always before me, where they continually fill me with admiration for the author’s genius, and with regret for my petty mistakes about it.”—Edinburgh Literary Journal.
J. SINCLAIR—the signature of the venerable Sir John Sinclair, Bart., who has written and edited upwards of 25 useful works.
CAROLINE NORTON—the Honourable Mrs. Norton, author of the “Sorrows of Rosalie,” the “Undying One,” &c., and grand-daughter of the late Mr. Thomas Sheridan. This signature is from a superb portrait in a recent Number of the New Monthly Magazine: a lovelier and more intellectual head and front we never beheld.
B.R. HAYDON—peculiarly characteristic of the writer’s style of painting—large and bold. Whoever has seen his Napoleon, just opened for exhibition, must, we think, acknowledge the above identity. In our next Number we intend to notice the above triumph of art.
ALARIC A. WATTS—an elegant hand, worthy of the editor of the most elegant of the Annuals: this, however, is not Mr. Watts’s ordinary signature.
J. MONTGOMERY.—This hand is far more redundant in ornament than one would have expected from so gentle and talented a Quaker; but the Quaker has been lost in the poet, as an old grey wall is concealed under a luxuriant mantling of ivy. The autograph now engraved is copied from the signature attached to the original of his beautiful poem on Night, beginning—“Night is the time for rest.”—Edinburgh Literary Journ.
CH. MAURICE DE TALLEYRAND—whose life will hereafter be traced throughout a volume of the history of the last and present century. His age is 77. This signature is copied from the Frontispiece to the last edition to the Court and Camp of Bonaparte, in the Family Library, which is a fine portrait of Talleyrand, engraved by Finden, from a picture by Girard.
H. MACKENZIE—author of the Man of Feeling, &c. He died during the past year, in Edinburgh.
