725 Remarkable Coincidences between Dreams and Facts. suit which only yielded expense and vexation, the workmen were sent away in a fit of spleen, and the mines again filled up. A few stones, and different-coloured earths, are all that remain to tell of the depth of his trouble. From exploring the structure of the earth, he came at length to its surface, and determined, by the strictest application, to study Botany. But Linnæus sadly puzzled him; and, moreover, there was so much order and classification, that, to use his own expression, "it was never made for him." By the gardener's assistance, indeed, he contrived to have a tolerable assortment of flowers, in which he took no little pride. But not meeting with the just praise and encouragement of the Horticultural Society, flowers, their petals, and calices, only renewed his chagrin. The gardener was then left to pursue the study by himself. Our hero, half-distracted, wandered among the intricate paths of science, till music, with enchanting charms, fascinated him with its bewitching spell. His mind rested with long and unsatisfied pleasure upon the delightful theory of sounds. Swinging weights, musical bells, and Cremona violins, occupied all his time. Delicious harmony, whether sleeping or waking, continually, and never-ceasingly, poured upon his soul. But a luckless hand-organ, grinding in the street, at length dissipated all his love for music; and Handel, Weber, and Bishop, were left to "discourse" by themselves. Soon after this, succeeded Poetry; Homer, Virgil, and Milton were all read, and deeply admired. In his opinion, every other author was too despicable to be perused. They contained, he affirmed, either the beauties of the poetical triumvirate transferred to their own pages, or else were replete with monstrous absurdities. In both cases, time was ill bestowed in writing or in reading them. He then began to pay his addresses to the Sacred Nine himself, and woo ́"thee gentle Poesy" with the most extravagant affection. Imagination swelling in his brain, already fancied his brow 1 Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels wooyield."15" But it was always observed, that the flowers called from these soaring regions invariably withered when transplanted to his soil. Immediately on their removal from their native spot, their beauty fled, and they died. Like certain exotics, that only grow spontane ously, they could never be forced. At length, fired with the scanty oozings from the Castalian fount, and distilling it again, the poetical harp was thrown aside. He then took up the critic's pen, and 726 began most laboriously to compose his An notations and Dissertations on the three poets. Volumes upon volumes were written, and the shelves of his library entirely filled with his manuscript productions. Wo to the friend that was closeted with him during the perusal of these criticisms! Hour after hour was the dull lecture continued; nor was it ever concluded, till exhausted patience compelled the sufferer either to fall asleep, or abruptly leave the room. But it is a remarkable peculiarity, that he could never discover aught but blemishes— there was always some deterioration. Beauties never struck his eye; for to him all was but one tarnished surface. Poetry at last finished its short career. What has succeeded is merely conjecture; but from the frequent fits of absence to which he is subject, and from his conversation, it is supposed to be metaphysics. These pursuits have engendered the most egregious conceit; and, as a consequence, he thinks himself licensed to attack with the sallies of his wit, all who dare to oppose him. And by thus making a noisy profession in society, though almost entirely ignorant of the principles of each science, yet strongly imbuing his phraseology with the technicalities of his superficial attainments, in the eyes of the world he has now "finished his education," and obtained the title of Connoisseur. REMARKABLE COINCIDENCES BETWEEN DREAMS AND FACTS. WHEN Corder murdered Maria Martin, it was publicly avowed, that a dream of her mother led to the discovery of her body buried in the barn. It is also certain, that, when this miscreant was tried for the offence, no allusion whatever was made to this circumstance by the counsel on either side; and the motive assigned for their silence was, a fear of encouraging superstitious feelings among the lower classes of the people. This, however, furnishes no satisfactory reason. If the counsel for the prosecution supposed that the statement or proof of such a circumstance as Mrs. Martin's dream would have helped to establish the prisoner's guilt, he neglected his business by failing to adduce it; if, on the other hand, the dream had been such as would have raised for Corder one particle of scepticism, or gleam of compassion, in the minds of those who counsel trie tried him for his life, the culpable to sup would have b been press it. equally They cared little about the s 727 Remarkable Coincidences between Dreams and Facts. perstitions of the people; nor do we imagine that a belief in the preternatural origin of dreams would in this country gain a single convert from the most active use that the most ingenious advocate could have made of the above poor woman's prepossession, when it was so naturally attributable to the course of her waking | suspicions. Through the statement, however, that such a dream did actually occur, we have been favoured with the two following communications, both of which appear to be as well attested, as they are extraordinary in their nature and fulfilment. 728 although much against the wish of his wife, took his gun with him, for the purpose of amusing himself with shooting by the way. When his wife pressed him to leave his gun, he told her there was no danger-that she had no cause for alarm, as the day had not yet arrived, (alluding to the ominous warnings of his sudden death.) The boat accordingly set off with the party, all of whom appeared to be in high spirits. On arriving at Rosythe Castle, the boat put to shore, and let out one of the party who had some business to transact at Inverkeithing. It having been agreed that the boat was to remain till this person's return, Some time during the year 1828, Mr. Mr. Beveridge stepped out, and took his William Beveridge, baker and innkeeper gun with him, in the hope of getting a shot at Charleston limeworks, Fifeshire in Scot- as he walked about the shore. On returnland, dreamed, and at the same time ing, he used the gun as a support to assist imagined that he heard a voice intimating him in stepping in, when it suddenly went that he was soon to die, and that in a sud-off, and discharging its contents in his den manner. Having afterwards, at two head, he fell all but lifeless on the spot. different times, been visited by the same Mr. Beveridge had no sooner fallen, than dream and warning voice, he communi. his dog sprung forward, and clasped his cated the matter to his wife, calmly giving legs around his master's body, in which her to understand that he looked upon it position he lay for a short time-looking as a presage that he was soon to be called stedfastly and anxiously towards him, when, away' from her. She, however, aware as if to be assured of the extent of the how little dreams deserve to be made the injury his master had suffered, he dipped subject of disquietude, paid very little at- his nose in the blood which was profusely tention to the circumstance. With him it flowing before him, and then bounded off was very different. So powerful an im- to his master's house in Charleston, where pression had the whole affair made on his his appearance and restless manner excited mind, and so firmly was he convinced of no small alarm in the family. Mr. Bevethe idea that he was doomed suddenly ridge was carried home, where he expired to bid an adieu to his family, that he in the course of a few hours. immediately set about making up his books and accounts, and arranging his affairs, as a proper preparation for whatever might happen. But what is still more remarkable, a Mr. Miller, ship-builder, in Limekilns, had a similar dream regarding the fate of his friend Mr. Beveridge; and such was the influence it had on his mind, that he could not next morning take breakfast till he had gone to Beveridge, and informed him of what had taken place. This corroboration of his nocturnal warnings completely confirmed him in all his apprehensions as to their ominous nature; still he appeared to conduct himself with his usual cheerfulness, and attention to business; and it might, but for what followed, have been forgotten by himself, and never recalled to the recollection of his friends, as coupled with his lamented fate. On Tuesday, the 8th of August, a few of Mr. Beveridge's friends had occasion to go to Inverkeithing Custom-house, when he proposed to accompany them in a boat, which was agreed to. Mr. Beveridge The following dream is still more remarkable than the preceding. The gentleman to whom it occurred is yet alive, and many witnesses, to whom he made known the particulars of it, still survive to attest the reality of his communications. In addition to this, the subject matter of the visitation corresponded so closely with that of a catastrophe at once so memorable and so shocking as still to be imprinted on the mind of every adult in the kingdom→→ and the dream itself is no less striking for the singular conformity of its details to those of a contemporaneous tragedy which was performed nearly 300 miles from the person of the dreamer, than unaccountable to those who fancy they can theorize upon dreams, by assuming an insight into the ways of Providence, for its want of every characteristic of a warning, so often alleged in explanation sof that faculty: In the night of the 11th of May, 1812, Mr. Williams, of Scorrier-house, near Redruth, in Cornwall, awoke his wife, and, exceedingly agitated, told her that he had 729 On Assistance to the Memory.. 730 dreamt he was in the lobby of the House | short, that he never had any thing to do of Commons, and saw a man shoot, with with him, nor had he ever been in the a pistol, a gentleman who had just entered lobby of the house of commons in his the lobby, and who was said to be the life. chancellor; to which Mrs. Williams naturally replied, that it was only a dream, and recommended him to be composed, and go to sleep as soon as he could. He did so, but shortly after he again awoke her, and said he had a second time had the same dream; whereupon she observed that he had been so much agitated with his former dream, that she supposed it had dwelt on his mind, and again begged of him to try to compose himself and go to sleep, which he did. A third time the same vision was repeated; on which, notwithstanding her entreaties that he would lie quiet and endeavour to forget it, he arose, then between one and two o'clock, and dressed himself. At breakfast the dreams were the sole subjects of conversation, and in the forenoon Mr. Williams went to Falmouth, where he related the particulars of them to all of his acquaintance whom he met. On the following day Mr. Tucker, of Trematon Castle, accompanied by his wife, a daughter of Mr. Williams, went to Scorrier-house, on a visit, and arrived about dusk. Immediately after the first salutations on their entering the parlour, where were Mr., Mrs., and Miss Williams, Mr. Williams began to relate to Mr. Tucker the circumstance of his dreams, and Mrs. W. observed to her daughter, Mrs. T. laughingly, that her father could not even suffer Mr. Tucker to be seated, before he told him of his nocturnal visitation. On hearing the statement, Mr. Tucker observed, that it would do very well for a dream to have the chancellor in the lobby of the House of Commons, but that he would not be found there in reality. Mr. Tucker then asked what sort of a man he appeared to be, when Mr. Williams described him minutely: to which Mr. Tucker replied, 'Your description is not at all that of the chancellor, but is certainly very exactly that of Mr. Perceval, the chancellor of the exchequer; and although he has been to me the greatest enemy I have ever met with through life, for a supposed cause, which had no foundation in truth (or words to that effect,) I should be exceedingly sorry indeed to hear of his being assassinated, or of any injury of the kind happening to him. Mr. Tucker then inquired of Mr. Williams if he had ever seen Mr. Perceval, and was told that he had never seen him, nor had ever written to him, either on public or private business-in At this moment, Mr. Williams and Mr. Tucker, still standing, heard a horse gallop to the door of the house, and immediately after, Mr. Michael Williams, of Trevince, (son of Mr. Williams, of Scorrier,) entered the room, and said that he had just come from Truro, (from which Scorrier is distant seven miles,) having seen a gentleman there, who had come by that evening's mail from town, and who said that he was in the lobby of the house of commons on the evening of the 11th, when a man, named Bellingham, had shot Mr. Perce val; and that, as it might occasion some great ministerial changes, and might affect Mr. Tucker's political friends, he had come out as fast as he could to make him acquainted with it, having heard at Truro that he had passed through that place in the afternoon on his way to Scorrier. After the astonishment which this intelligence created had a little subsided, Mr. Williams described most particularly the appearance and dress of the man that he saw, in his dream, fire the pistol, as he had before done of Mr. Perceval. About six weeks after, Mr. Williams, having business in town, went, accompanied by a friend, to the house of commons, where, as has been already observed, he had never before been. Immediately that he came to the steps at the entrance of the lobby, he said, "This place is as distinctly within my recollection, in my dream, as any room in my house; and he made the same observation when he entered the lobby. He then pointed out the exact spot where Bellingham stood when he fired, and which Mr. Perceval had reached when he was struck by the ball, also where and how he fell. The dress, both of Mr. Perceval and Bellingham, agreed with the description given by Mr. Williams, even to the most minute particulars. CLEARNESS AND SIMPLICITY OF ARRANGE- MEMORY. "I DON'T know, (said a gentleman to the late Rev. Andrew Fuller,) how it is that I can remember your sermons better than those of any other minister, but such is the fact.” "I cannot tell, (replied Mr. Fuller,) unless it be owing to simplicity of arrangement; I pay particular attention to this part of composition, always placing things 731 Poetry. together that are related to each other, and that naturally follow each other insuccession. For instance, (added he,) suppose I were to say to my servant, Betty, you must go and buy some butter, and starch, and cream, and soap, and tea, and blue, and sugar, and cakes.". Betty would say, Loh, master! I shall never be able to remember all these.' But suppose I were to say, 'Betty, you know your mistress is going to have some friends to tea to-morrow, and that you are going to wash the day following; and that for the tea party, you will want tea, and sugar, and cream, and cakes, and butter; and for the washing you will want soap, and starch, and blue; Betty would instantly reply, "Yes, master, I can remember them all very well." " R. B. 70. but you'l "Tis sweet to be with God, when nightud qo9€ Her widow robe assumes; And darkness with tyrannic sway,MI A silent world entombs. 'Tis sweet to be with God, at home Amid the social band; * 7989Jal Where hearts with hearts together knit, bicAnd hands join hand in hand. ved bob af T ob so nata 3sdv "Tis sweet to be with God, when farod aH From home's endearing joys ola bo oT Amid the world's applauded din, on 699 And mind-distracting noise obale "Tis sweet to be with God, alone 199 'ni seld 10 In nature's deepest shade; nig'baw 10 Where every leaf its Maker speaks, And every rising blade, but I slid to 9 & sol 919dW "Tis sweet to be with God, when tostice baA On ocean's foaming waves; 307058 A That vaunting, hide their slaughtered dead, Within unfathomed graves. 1938nom smo Jane2799.99 and sliv stoM sy dons Ifiw fire In every time, in every place,ols bo) sh With filial fear o'eraw'd; What peerless blessedness to hold 19 Sweet converse with our God.er songson】 * Oxford. THE DYING CHRISTIAN. "To die is gain."-St. Paul. Hogs 20 Now his earthly course is run, Life is closing on his view; el Like the evening's setting sun, Like the fading rainbow's hue, Gloriously he yields his breath, But he is not lost in death. View his mildly beaming eye, View the smile upon his cheek; Not a murmur, not a sigh, Dares his peacefulness to break. Calm as ocean, when at rest, *0 Not a billow on its breast, Nether objects heeds he not, Earth has lost her every charm, All her pomp is now forgot, Hush'd in peace her every storm. Lo! before his wond'ring eyes, Scenes of beck'ning glory rise. Scarce the body's mouldering walls Hold the spirit in her cell; Glory hastens, glory calls, In eternal bliss to dwell. Hope attends, to lead her flight To the spotless stores of light. Soft-the final breath has flown, Heavenly minstrelsies begin; Now the gates are open thrown: Now the spirit enters in, Hark! the welcome chorus flies Through the regions of the skies. Gloriously the warrior dies, Fired with patriotic zeal; Heedless of his kindred ties, W 4 Struggling for his country's weal. Ready when his country calls, In his brightest moment falls. 732 Hallowed is the poet's name, iM MA Fadeless is the poet's fame, et bra i Unforgotten, unconfin'd, DUNH Genius takes the plaintive lyre,faced f Bids the list'ning crowds admire. A But, than warrior's death more bright, A Brighter than the poet's fame; 65 Á Shines the Christian's dying light,$7917 Gleams the Christian's honour'd name; All their fame with time shall last, 51,764 His, when time itself is past. T Oxford, yem saisiai yaitues. 6 J. S. B. A bed-guich Mult outtiv Jo THE VOICE OF LOVE.ilsbaai asƆ "Tis heard on the mountain's high head, W Where barrenness curses the soil;udyam 11 "Tis heard in the valley's low bed, 3 and aïT" ой That smiles with the husbanding the plain, Tis heard in and the caves re-echo the strain. the meadow, extends to the And the rocks The city that groans with the throng, insms. The village secluded and still: ; Give heed to the rapturous song, 11 37.00 9997 And gaily its summons fulfil, earwortoa sidT It entrances the soul, it strikes to the heart, W Though delightful the wound, and welcome the smart. Sewn-200242sq b'wollsdan 'dt 19d ol Nor unheeding the barbarous clanþirgusi sd1 That fearlessly roam the drear wild Nor reckless the civilized man, With feelings more polished and mild.thede So resistless the power, so charming the tale, They list to the song as it floats on the gale: vsH Where winter eternally reigns,ge 191 3dgr bra And mantles the earth with its duodT 209-97,61A Where summer aye scorches the plains, mid1 It thrills the glad heart as it goes. Just olidW Ander the bosom beats ardent and high On Will the Oxford. voice of love eits enchantments s apply tral Alas vrongos, B 733 WAIT HEAVENJYU SHT "A place of pure delight, Of spotless joy, of harmony, of peace." Is earth the seat of wo, Where all is death and cheerless; Where dangers thickly grow, And not an eye is tearless? Heaven is the seat of bliss, Where constant light is beaming; Where gladness ever is, And eyes with joy are gleaming. Does earth present a scene, And ruin often ranges? In heaven no change is known, But bloomy pleasures centre. Is earth a tainted soil, Where crime's abode is seated; Where man is misery's spoil, And truth with shame is treated? No sin in heaven is found, But all is pure and spotless; With fairest lustre crown'd, With glory clear and blotless. Is earth a land of death, A lazar-house of sorrow; That one day gives us breath, And slays us on the morrow? Heaven is a land of life, With healthfulness eternal; With peace for ever rife, With blossoms ever vernal. Oxford. As fleeting as eve's dying glare.ung Cisá So short its duration on earth, It beams, and is witnessed no more; J. S. B. AN ELEGY ON A PIOUS FEMALE. I SING the Maiden exquisitely fair, Are feeble emblems of her outward charms. A holier theme than mortal bloom I sing, A death-bed monument of christian zeal, Where faith and love, celestial beauties, spring From resignation to a Saviour's will. For, lo on yonder pallet, feebly worn, Th' afflicted maid reclines her aching head; A scene which vaunting infidels may scorn, But virtue triumphs on a dying bed. Can infidelity create a smile Within the circuit of a dying throe?" It may-but momentary, faint, and vile, "Tis but the harbinger of endless woe.. No infidelity dilates her fears But fears she has none-witness her delight E'en death himself, bedew'd in icy tears, Laments the flow'r he finally must blight. Weep on, ye friends, weep on, ye tender maids→ This sorrowing scene is closing on her eyes,What though, no grief the final hour evades, She'll bear your fond affection to the skies. In her th' unhallow'd passions cease to burnThe languid embers of immortal love, Though faintly glimm'ring in their vital urn, ⠀ Are re-enkindling on the shrines above. She dies-but angels from their heav'nly sphere, Who hung benignly o'er her ebbing breath, Have lit their torches at her hallow'd bier, And light her spirit through the shades of death. Methinks in heaven the glorious accents roll, While saints congratulate their kindred guest, "O happy! happy!-more than happy soul, Welcome-thrice welcome to eternal rest. Leeds, January 26th, 1829. No longer embodied on earth. In a moment the trumpet shall blow, cft und w And awake all that sleep in the tomb; 19 In a moment each mortal shall know Cabin 19H tsh A IMITATION OF HORACE. 10.69 OPIOW TIME A Ode 22d. Liber 1. Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus, &c.#A ༡༦༩༣|༦༩ K In God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me."-PSALM lvi. 11. He who with hopes above the skies, To God alone for safety flies, Needs not the world's contempt to fear, A DEA The sland'rous tongue, or bitter jeer. Whether he tread hot burning sands, Or bleak inhospitable lands; de Or wand'ring by the river's side, 979.379dW Where India's streams meand'ring glide. For while I tuned the sacred song, And sauntered deviously along, A scorner lurked within the shade,990 4G But fled my steps where'er I stray'd.ov efT Some monster from his dark retreat;/3UW More vile than he of Ferney's seat; Or he who learned in Scotia's land we a!T His injur'd Maker's name to brand, W Convey me to some barren waste, do 91dW Where not a tree shields from the blast A Or where dark obscure the light i And wrap the in gloomy night. Or place m the burning zone, b9 9194T me in Or where the icegales sadly moan; A Still will each vainly act its part, While God alone reigns in my heart.199 l Fwers'o rent lelli A. B., Beaconsfield, hind of seanhassaid eeliseyd Innocence is its own protection In whatever situation it may be placed. |