AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION, VOL. 10, NO. 288, SUPPLEMENTARY NUMBER***


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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

VOL. 10, No. 288.] SUPPLEMENTARY NUMBER. [PRICE 2d.



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The Return of a Victorious Armament to a Greek City.


[Illustration: The Return of a Victorious Armament to a Greek City.]


SPIRIT OF "THE ANNUALS" FOR 1828.


Our readers have annually anticipated a high treat from this splendid
intellectual banquet, served up by some of the master[1] spirits of
the age.

    [1] We hope this epithet will not be considered ungallant--for, to
        say the truth, the _ladies_ have contributed the best poetical
        portion of the feast. This display of female talent has
        increased in brilliancy year after year: and the _Lords_ should
        look to it.

We doubt whether the comparison is refined enough for the fair
authoresses; but our fancy has led us to class their contributions to
the present feast as follow:--


_Hock--Champagne_, (_Still and Sparkling_.)

L.E.L.
Hood.

_Bucellas._

Miss Mitford.
Bernard Barton.

_Lacrymae Christi._

Mrs. Hemans.
Watts.
Delta.

_Port._

Coleridge.
Southey.

_Claret._

Montgomery,


with a due proportion of _vin ordinaire_. This comparison may be
pleasant enough as after-dinner chat, but we fear our readers will
think it like cooks circulating the Bills of Fare on the morning of
Lord Mayor's Day; and lest we should incur their displeasure, we
shall proceed with our select _course_: but we are mere disposers.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE LITERARY SOUVENIR.


In literary talent, as well as in graphic beauty, this elegant volume
stands first; and from it we have selected the subject of the above
engraving, accompanied by the following


ANCIENT SONG OF VICTORY.

BY MRS. HEMANS.


Fill high the bowl, with Samian wine,
Our virgins dance beneath the shade.

BYRON.


  Lo! they come, they come!
    Garlands for every shrine!
  Strike lyres to greet them home;
    Bring roses, pour ye wine!

  Swell, swell the Dorian flute
    Thro' the blue, triumphal sky!
  Let the Cittern's tone salute
    The Sons of Victory!

  With the offering of bright blood,
    They have ransomed earth and tomb,
  Vineyard, and field, and flood;--
    Lo! they come, they come!

  Sing it where olives wave,
    And by the glittering sea,
  And o'er each hero's grave,--
    Sing, sing, the land is free!

  Mark ye the flashing oars,
    And the spears that light the deep!
  How the festal sunshine pours
    Where the lords of battle sweep!

  Each hath brought back his shield,--
    Maid, greet thy lover home!
  Mother, from that proud field,
    Lo! thy son is come!

  Who murmured of the dead?
    Hush, boding voice! we know
  That many a shining head
    Lies in its glory low.

  Breathe not those names to-day!
    They shall have their praise ere long,
  And a power all hearts to sway
    In ever-burning song.

  But now shed flowers, pour wine,
    To hail the conquerors home!
  Bring wreaths for every shrine--
    Lo! they come, they come!


The original engraving is by Edward Goodall, from a painting by William
Linton, Esq. It is altogether a rich and glorious composition, at
this moment too, glowing with more than pictorial interest; and the
_carmen triumphale_ of the poetess is a worthy accompaniment. Among
the other engravings the frontispiece and opposite page of this work
are extremely rich and beautiful: _Psyche borne by the Zephyrs to the
Island of Pleasure_, is full of languishing beauty; _Medora_, painted
by Pickersgill and engraved by Rolls, is a delightfully placid
moonlight scene; the _Declaration_, easy and graceful: there are,
however, in our opinion, two decided failures in the volume, which,
for the credit of the artists, had better been omitted. Our present
notices of the _literary_ department must be confined to the following
selection:


THE CITY OF THE DEMONS.

_By William Maginn, Esq._


In days of yore, there lived in the flourishing city of Cairo, a Hebrew
Rabbi, by name Jochorian, who was the most learned of his nation. His
fame went over the East, and the most distant people sent their young
men to imbibe wisdom from his lips. He was deeply skilled in the
traditions of the fathers, and his word on a disputed point was decisive.
He was pious, just, temperate, and strict; but he had one vice--a love
of gold had seized upon his heart, and he opened not his hand to the
poor. Yet he was wealthy above most, his wisdom being to him the
source of riches. The Hebrews of the city were grieved at this blemish
on the wisest of their people; but though the elders of the tribes
continued to reverence him for his fame, the women and children of
Cairo called him by no other name than that of Rabbi Jochonan the miser.

None knew, so well as he, the ceremonies necessary for initiation
into the religion of Moses; and, consequently, the exercise of those
solemn offices was to him another source of gain. One day, as he walked
in the fields about Cairo, conversing with a youth on the interpretation
of the law, it so happened, that the angel of death smote the young man
suddenly, and he fell dead before the feet of the Rabbi, even while he
was yet speaking. When the Rabbi found that the youth was dead, he rent
his garments, and glorified the Lord. But his heart was touched, and
the thoughts of death troubled him in the visions of the night. He
felt uneasy when he reflected on his hardness to the poor, and he
said, "Blessed be the name of the Lord! The first good thing that
I am asked to do in that holy name, will I perform."--But he sighed,
for he feared that some one might ask of him a portion of his gold.

While yet he thought upon these things, there came a loud cry at his gate.

"Awake, thou sleeper!" said the voice; "Awake! A child is in danger of
death, and the mother hath sent me for thee that thou may'st do thine
office."

"The night is dark and gloomy," said the Rabbi, coming to his casement,
"and mine age is great; are there not younger men than I in Cairo?"

"For thee only, Rabbi Jochonan, whom some call the wise, but whom others
call Rabbi Jochonan the miser, was I sent. Here is gold," said he, taking
out a purse of sequins--"I want not thy labour for nothing. I adjure thee
to come, in the name of the living God."

So the Rabbi thought upon the vow he had just made, and he groaned in
spirit, for the purse sounded heavy.

"As thou hast adjured me by that name, I go with thee," said he to the
man, "but I hope the distance is not far. Put up thy gold."

"The place is at hand," said the stranger, who was a gallant youth,
in magnificent attire. "Be speedy, for time presses."

Jochonan arose, dressed himself, and accompanied the stranger, after
having carefully locked up all the doors of his house, and deposited
his keys in a secret place--at which the stranger smiled.

"I never remember," said the Rabbi, "so dark a night. Be thou to me as a
guide, for I can hardly see the way."

"I know it well," replied the stranger with a sigh, "it is a way much
frequented, and travelled hourly by many; lean upon mine arm and fear
not."

They journeyed on; and though the darkness was great, yet the Rabbi could
see, when it occasionally brightened, that he was in a place