bad. But as it is foreign to my purpose to enter into an investigation of the opinions of the ancients on this subject, I shall content myself with referring the curious reader to Stanley's History of Philosophy, a deservedly popular work.
I shall here recount one of the most extraordinary tales relating to this subject that I ever heard; I believe the solution is evident, and I am not aware that it has appeared before; but if it has, some of the readers of the Mirror may not have seen it.
A surgeon of Edinburgh was confined to his bed by some illness, and at "the dewy hour of eve," when the room was lighted by nothing but the glimmering and flickering light of a wood fire, he perceived a female sitting at the foot of the bed clothed in white! Imagining that it was some defect in his sight, he gazed more intensely at it, still it was there. He then raised his hand before his eyes and he did not perceive it; on withdrawing it the apparition was there. Closing his eyes he went through a mathematical calculation to convince himself he was in his right senses; upon reopening them he still perceived her there. The fire then went out and he saw no more. I confess I see no difficulty in accounting for this, by supposing the gentleman was afflicted with that horrid disease of which Sir Walter Scott gives many cases in his Demonology and Witchcraft. Although I have no warrant for asserting spirits do not return, yet I must say, all the tales I have ever heard do not necessarily require any such interpretation on them. It may be true, and so may everything which we have no evidence against or for. If my opinion on the subject was to be shaken by anything, it would be with the following story, which was given to me by one whose veracity I have no reason to doubt.
There is, or rather was, a very ancient castle in Lancashire, near Liverpool, called Castle de Bergh, which belongs to a noble family of that name. Many years ago the possessor of the castle, Mr. de Burgh, died, and the castle was then let out to various of the tenantry, among whom was a carpenter. Two years after the death of Mr. de Burgh, as this carpenter was employed in his workshop, about a quarter of a mile from the castle, melting glue, it being evening, and only four of his men with him, he perceived a gentleman in mourning passing the lathe where the men were at work. He was immediately seized with a violent trembling and weakness, his hair stood on end, and a clammy sweat spread over his forehead. The lights were put out, he knew not how, and at last, in fear and terror, he was obliged to return home. On his arrival at the castle, as he was passing up the stairs, he heard a footstep behind, and on turning round he perceived the same apparition. He hastily entered his room, and bolted, locked, and barred the door, but to his horror and surprise this offered no impediment to his ghostly visiter, for the door sprang open at his touch, and he entered the room! The apparition was seen by various others, all of whom asserted it bore the strongest resemblance to their deceased master! One gentleman spoke to him, and the spirit told him "that he was not happy."
Foley Place.
LINES
Upon the silent grassy bed,
Shall maiden's tears at eve be shed,
And friendship's self shall often there
Heave the sigh, and breathe the pray'r.
Young flowers of spring around shall bloom,
And summer's roses deck thy tomb.
The primrose ope its modest breast
Where thy lamented ashes rest,
And cypress branches lowly bend
Where thy lov'd form with clay shall blend.
The silver willow darkly wave
Above thy unforgotten grave,
And woodbine leaves will fondly creep,
Where * * lies in holy sleep.
Sturminster.
PARLIAMENTARY SCRAPS
Lord Coke, in his fourth institute, defines certain qualities essentially requisite to constitute a good member of parliament; and he refers to a parliament roll, 3 Henry VI., which affirms that a parliament man should have three properties ascribed to the elephant—1. That he hath no gall; 2. That he is inflexible, and cannot bow; 3. That he is of a most ripe and perfect memory.—1. To be without malice, rancour, heat, and envy;—in elephante melancholia transit in nutrimentum corporis: every gallish inclination, if any were, should tend to the good of the whole body—the commonwealth. 2. That he be constant, inflexible, and not be bowed, or turned from the right, either from fear, reward, or favour; not in judgment respect any person. 3. That in remembering perils past, dangers to come may be prevented.
To these, addition is made by Lord Coke of two other properties of elephants: the one, that though they be maximæ virtutis et maximi intellectus, of great strength and understanding, tamen gregatim semper incedunt, yet they are sociable, and go in companies; for animalia gregalia non sunt nociva, sed animalia solivaga sunt nociva: sociable creatures that go in flocks or herds are not hurtful—as deer, sheep, &c.; but beasts that walk solely or singularly, as bears, foxes, &c., are dangerous and hurtful. The other property is, that the elephant is philanthropos, homini erranti viam ostendit. And, in the opinion of Coke, these properties ought every parliament man to have.
Neither the ancient nor modern election statutes mention, or imply, the existence of a "candidate." The old laws direct that the representative shall be freely and indifferently chosen by the electors. The choice was of their own motion, and the person elected was passive. Even at the present day, the law does not contemplate his asking for votes, and therefore does not allow, after the issuing of the writ, sufficient time for a regular canvass. The term "candidate" had its derivation from the person being candidatus, clothed in white, as symbolical of the wearer's purity.
James I. issued a proclamation, in which the voters for members of parliament are directed "not to choose curious and wrangling lawyers, who seek reputation by stirring needless questions."
At the Sussex election, in 1807, an elector, named Morton, voted in right of his patrimonial land at Rusper, which had been in possession of his ancestors 750 years.
SONNET
Soft breathings of aerial melody,
Ye seem like love-songs from the elfin land,
Or soundings from that heaven-commissioned band,
Ushering the good man to the bliss on high.
Now swells the chorus full, anon ye die
Away upon the breeze, so soft and bland
Melting on evening's ear. Sure Love's own hand
In kindest mood hath wrought this minstrelsy.
How to the lorn heart does its influence creep,
As the wild winds sweep o'er the fairy strings,
Bringing again departed, perish'd things,
O'er which we feel it luxury to weep.
Sing on ye zephyr-sprites, your vespers cheer
The heart, whose off'ring is a holy tear.
Sturminster.
THE COSMOPOLITE
HINTS FOR SELF-ADVANCEMENT; OR, HOW TO MAKE ONE'S WAY IN THE WORLD
When you visit married people, pay particular attention to their children: the more noisy, troublesome, and disagreeable they are, the more is it incumbent upon you to praise them. Should the baby entertain you with a passionate squall
