Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 274, September 22, 1827», страница 6

Various

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CONTRAST OF CLIMATE

Suppose yourself to have spent the first half of a foggy, sleety, chill, moist, melancholy, English winter at some miserable country village in Kent. Suppose about the first of February, while the whole landscape around is still floating in mud, buried in snow, or fast bound by frost, and the atmosphere so thick with fog, that one can scarcely point at mid-day to the spot where the sun stands in the heavens,—that your catarrh grows so alarming, that in a fit of despondency you trundle yourself aboard a ship in the Downs getting under way for a warmer climate. Suppose, that after a smacking run of about eight days before a fresh gale, (during the whole of which you are of course too sick and qualmy to leave your cot,) you awake one morning, and find yourself snugly at anchor in the bay of Funchal; and the romantic, sun-bright mountains of Madeira, gorgeously crested with a mass of brilliant clouds, looking in at your cabin-window. It seems downright enchantment! You leap up as if there was a new soul in your body. You hurry ashore in the first boat. Your cough, lassitude, and qualmishness have altogether left you. Your step is elastic, and your spirits as buoyant as a lark in spring. You luxuriate amidst beautiful gardens glowing with roses, jessamines, honey-suckles, and a thousand other odoriferous shrubs and flowers in full bloom. You wander through a boundless maze of rising vineries curling their budding tendrils around the trellis-work, and terrace above terrace up the declivities of the mountains. You recline among orange-groves bending under the load of ripe golden fruit; and as you stretch yourself at ease by some clear, gurgling rill, in the midst of all this loveliness, you ask yourself, is this a dream—or are these indeed the gardens of the Hesperides? Reader, if you have the blue devils at Christmas, you may realize all this, and reach Madeira, as I have done, in eight days from the Downs.

London Weekly Review.

THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

ANECDOTES OF THE FACULTY

Quacks

We are not without plenty of ignorant and impudent pretenders at the present day; but the celebrated Mrs. Mapp, the bone-setter of Epsom, surpasses them all. She was the daughter of a man named Wallis, a bone-setter at Hindon, in Wiltshire, and sister to the celebrated "Polly Peachem," who married the Duke of Bolton. Upon some family quarrel, Sally Wallis left her professional parent, and wandered up and down the country in a miserable manner, calling herself "Crazy Sally," and pursuing, in her perambulations, a course that fairly justified the title. Arriving at last at Epsom, she succeeded in humbugging the worthy bumpkins of that place, so decidedly, that a subscription was set on foot to keep her among them; but her fame extending to the metropolis, the dupes of London, a numerous class then as well as now, thought it no trouble to go ten miles to see the conjuror, till at length, she was pleased to bless the afflicted of London with her presence, and once a week drove to the Grecian Coffee-house, in a coach and six with out-riders! and all the appearance of nobility. It was in one of these journeys, passing through Kent-street, in the Borough, that being taken for a certain woman of quality from the Electorate in Germany, a great mob followed, and bestowed on her many bitter reproaches, till madame, perceiving some mistake, looked out of the window, and accosted them in this gentle manner, "D–n your bloods, don't you know me? I am Mrs. Mapp, the bone-setter!" Upon which, they instantly changed their revilings into loud huzzas.

Wadd's Mems., Maxims, and Memoirs.

Dr. Radcliffe

Among the many singularities related of Radcliffe, it has been noticed, that when he was in a convivial party, he was unwilling to leave it, even though sent for by persons of the highest distinction. Whilst he was thus deeply engaged at a tavern, he was called on by a grenadier, who desired his immediate attendance on his colonel; but no entreaties could prevail on the disciple of Esculapius to postpone his sacrifice to Bacchus. "Sir," quoth the soldier, "my orders are to bring you." And being a very powerful man, he took him up in his arms, and carried him off per force. After traversing some dirty lanes, the doctor and his escort arrived at a narrow alley—"What the D–l is all this," said Radcliffe, "your colonel don't live here?"—"No," said his military friend,—"no, my colonel does not live here—but my comrade does, and he's worth two of the colonel,—so, by G—d, doctor, if you don't do your best for him, it will be the worst for you!"

Duels

Many medical duels have been prevented by the difficulty of arranging the "methodus pugnandi." In the instance of Dr. Brocklesby, the number of paces could not be agreed upon; and in the affair between Akenside and Ballow, one had determined never to fight in the morning, and the other that he would never fight in the afternoon. John Wilkes, who did not stand upon ceremony in these little affairs, when asked by Lord Talbot, "How many times they were to fire?" replied, "just as often as your Lordship pleases; I have brought a bag of bullets and a flask of gunpowder."

William Hunter

Dr. William Hunter used to relate the following anecdote:—During the American war, he was consulted by the daughter of a peer, who confessed herself pregnant, and requested his assistance; he advised her to retire for a time to the house of some confidential friend; she said that was impossible, as her father would not suffer her to be absent from him a single day. Some of the servants were, therefore, let into the secret, and the doctor made his arrangement with the treasurer of the Foundling Hospital for the reception of the child, for which he was to pay 190l.—The lady was desired to weigh well if she could bear pain without alarming the family by her cries; she said "Yes,"—and she kept her word. At the usual period she was delivered, not of one child only, but of twins. The doctor, bearing the two children, was conducted by a French servant through the kitchen, and left to ascend the area steps into the street. Luckily the lady's maid recollected that the door of the area might perhaps be locked; and she followed the doctor just in time to prevent his being detained at the gate. He deposited the children at the Foundling Hospital, and paid for each 100l. The father of the children was a colonel of the army, who went with his regiment to America, and died there. The mother afterwards married a person of her own rank.

John Hunter

Hunter was a philosopher in more senses than one; he had philosophy enough to bear prosperity, as well as adversity, and with a rough exterior was a very kind man. The poor could command his services more than the rich. He would see an industrious tradesman before a duke, when his house was full of grandees, "you have no time to spare," he would say, "you live by it; most of these can wait, they have nothing to do when they go home." No man cared less for the profits of the profession, or more for the honour of it. He cared not for money himself, and wished the Doctor [his brother William] to estimate it by the same scale, when he sent a poor man with this laconic note:—

"Dear Brother,—The bearer wants your advice. I do not know the nature of case. He has no money, and you have plenty, so are well met."
"Yours, J. HUNTER."

He was applied to once to perform a serious operation on a tradesman's wife; the fee agreed upon was twenty guineas. He heard no more of the case for two months; at the end of which time he was called upon to perform it. In the course of his attendance, he found out that the cause of the delay had been the difficulty under which the patient's husband had laboured to raise the money; and that they were worthy people, who had been unfortunate, and were by no means able to support the expense of such an affliction. "I sent back to the husband nineteen guineas, and kept the twentieth," said he, "that they might not be hurt with an idea of too great obligation. It somewhat more than paid me for the expense I had been at in the business."

BURMESE BOATS

The Burman war-boat is formed of the trunk of the magnificent teak tree, first roughly shaped, and then expanded by means of fire, until it attains sufficient width to admit two people, sitting abreast. On this a gunwale, rising a foot above the water, is fixed, and the stem and stern taper to a point, the latter being much higher than the other, and ornamented with fret-work and gilding. On the bow is placed a gun, sometimes of a nine-pounder calibre, but generally smaller, and the centre of the boat is occupied by the rowers, varying in number from twenty to a hundred, who in the large boats use the oar, and in the small ones the paddle. A war-boat in motion is a very pleasing object. The rapidity with which it moves, its lightness, and small surface above the water, the uniform pulling of the oar falling in cadence with the songs of the boatmen, who, taking the lead from one of their number, join in chorus, and keep time with the dip of their oars; the rich gilding which adorns the boat, and the neat, uniform dress of the crew, place it, to the eye of a stranger, in a curious and interesting point of view: and in regard to appearance, induces him, when contrasting it with an English boat, to give the former the preference. In point of swiftness, our best men-of-war boats could not compete with them; and of this superiority they generally availed themselves when an action was impending.

The boats we had captured at Rangoon, and were cutting down for the transport of the army, were totally of a different nature. These, built on the same plan as ours are, but with flat bottoms, belonged to traders, and were solely adapted to the transport of merchandise. The stern, fancifully ornamented, rises two or three stages above the deck, and is the seat of the helmsman. The inside of the boat is filled with goods, and thatched over, leaving sufficient room underneath to accommodate two or three families—men, women, and children—who promiscuously take up their abode there.

This description of boat is not propelled by oars, but by long poles, the ends of which being placed against the shoulders of the boatmen, they run the whole length of the boat, and push her forward with considerable velocity. The space on which they act is formed by strong outriggers on either side of the boat, which answer the twofold purpose of preventing her upsetting, which she otherwise would do from the excess of top-weight, and of increasing her width and accommodation.

The third class of boat is that used throughout the country, and which, to those who inhabit the banks of rivers, becomes a necessary appendage, and to many a home. It is a mere canoe, decked with split bamboo, and partly covered in with mats, so as to afford shelter from the sun by day, and the dews by night. One man steers, and two others either row or paddle; but, when the wind is favourable, they use a sail. This is generally made at the moment, with the scarfs they wear over their shoulders, tied together. Two bamboos constitute the mast and yard, the sail being fastened between them; yet, with this fragile rigging, and with the gunwale of the boat almost under water with every puff of wind, they stem the most rapid currents at all seasons of the year, and, such is their skill in steering, seldom meet with an accident. It was in these boats that the majority of the inhabitants of Rangoon, and the adjacent villages, fled upon our approach; and these formed their only habitation during the many months they kept aloof from us.