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WELLINGTONIANA.

OUR readers have, doubtless, in former volumes of the Mirror, been interested by a series of papers and notices which, from time to time, have appeared in this work, illustrative of the history, character, and genius of that proud conqueror who overturned the power of nearly every state in Europe, and sought to erect on the ruins of the same an universal monarchy. We purpose, from time to time, to present in like manner a series of sketches and notices illustrative of Buonaparte's illustrious antagonist and conqueror-our own WELLING TON! The relation of an incident frequently, however trivial, places before us the genius of the man in a way which a laboured commentary and an aggregation of all the elements of character fails to effect; like a master-stroke by an artist, as the lightning, sudden, but sure. Anecdotes require only their proper appreciation to have their value understood. A mean mind will nibble and hoard them away. The man of taste and genius will extract their philosophy, and disencumber himself from the verbiage in which they are clothed for it is not intended that a man should be a walking library. This quality of mind, that of separation, analysis, and combination, is eminently useful in a book-making and devouring generation, such as we live in in the present day. We are indebted to a correspondent for a few papers on the FIELD OF WATERLOO, he having recently visited it.

"I send you some Sketches of Waterloo, which I visited a few weeks ago, having been rather suddenly called upon to go into Belgium whilst winter yet covered the land. I do not hope to add anything new to the chronicles and narratives which fill every library on the subject of this famous field. Waterloo is now an old tale, and has been often told; yet the rural associations and consequences connected with the battle, must give it a freshness and interest to the reflecting mind, which would be unmoved by its chivalry, and only horrified at the recital of its carnage and slaughter. Standing on the summit of the pyramid which now commemorates the battle, it was in such a point of view that I was led both to grieve and to rejoice ;-to grieve and deplore the evil that is in our nature, and predominates in the present order of things in the world, as the bones of sixty thousand of my fellow-creatures in the trenches below could testify; to rejoice in that long and blessed peace which flowed as the blood-bought trophy of this field; a peace in which civilization, education, science and religion, have had an opportunity of dispensing blessings to mankind; and, in a measure, (where their workings have been legitimate and effectual,) to assist in wresting the slaughter

weapon from the hands of man, and to convert the sword into a ploughshare, to pruning-hooks the warriors' spears, securing peace to future generations.

"The two sketches which accompany this paper represent the English centre and front, indicated by the tombs which stand on each side of the main road, (from Genappe to Brussels,) and the Farm-House of La Haye Sainte. As you intend giving insertion to several engravings illustrative of the principal spots of the field, an outline of the battle of the 18th of June may serve to bring the places before your readers in an improving point of view; and though it is the last and mightiest feat of the honoured instrument who gained this renowned victory, will, I feel assured, commend your proposed series of papers, to be entitled WELLINGTONIANA, to the attention of your numerous readers."

At five o'clock in the morning of the 18th of June, 1815, the English army arrived at its destined position, at the end of the forest of Soigny. It occupied a rising ground, having in its front a gentle declivity. The extremity of the right wing was stationed at Merbe Braine. The enclosed country and deep ravines round the village protected the right flank, and rendered it impossible for the enemy to turn it. In the centre of the right was a country-house called Hougoumont, or Goumont (Le Chateau de Goumont.) The house was loop-holed and strongly occu pied; the garden and orchard were lined with light troops, and the wood before the house was maintained by some companies of the guards. The front of the right was thrown back to avoid a ravine which would have exposed it, and was nearly at right angles with the centre. It consisted of the second and fourth English divisions, the third and sixth Hanoverians, and the first of the Netherlands, and was commanded by Lord Hill. The centre was composed of the corps of the Prince of Orange, supported by the Brunswick and Nassau regiments, with the guards under General Cooke on the right, and the divisions of General Alten on the left.

In front was the farm of La Haye Sainte, which was occupied in great force. The road from Genappe to Brussels ran through the middle of the centre. The left wing, consisting of the divisions of Generals Picton, Lambert, and Kempt, extended to the left of La Haye, which it occupied, and the defiles of which protected the extremity of the left, and prevented it from being turned. The cavalry was principally posted in the rear of the left of the centre.

Separated by a valley varying from half to three-fourths of a mile in breadth, were other heights following the bending of those on which the British army was posted. The advanced guard of the French reached these

heights in the evening of the 17th, and some skirmishes took place between the out-posts. The night was dreadful. An incessant rain fell in torrents. The soldiers were up to their knees in mud, and many of them, particularly of the officers, who had not yet been able to change their ball dresses on leaving Brussels, laid themselves down on this comfortless bed, to rise no more. In the morning their limbs were stiffened by cold and wet, and they were unable to move. Few places could be found sufficiently free from mud to light a fire, and when the fire was lighted, the storm, which continued to pour pitilessly down, immediately extinguished it. Both armies equally suffered; but the day soon broke, and the soldiers sprung on their feet eager for the combat.

If the night was terrible to the soldiers, who were inured to the inclemency of the weather, it was far more dreadful to the wretched inhabitants of the villages in the rear of the French army. It had always been the policy of Napoleon at those critical times, when so much depended on the heroism of his troops, to relax the severity of his disci. pline, and to permit them to indulge in the most shameful excesses. They now abandoned themselves to more than usual atrocities. Every house was pillaged. The property which could not be carried away was wantonly destroyed, and the inhabitants fled in despair to the woods.

Notwithstanding the torrents of rain and the depth of the roads, Napoleon succeeded in bringing up his whole army, in the course of the night, and his numerous artillery, consisting of more than three hundred pieces. He had feared that the British would retire in the night, and when he saw them at the dawn of day occupying the position of the preceding evening, he could not contain his joy. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "I have them, then, these English."

A farmer, who lived near the house called Belle Alliance, was seized by the French, and carried to Napoleon, who, mounting him on horseback, tying him to the saddle, and giving the bridle into the hands of a trooper, compelled him to act as guide. Before any of the French troops were placed in the positions which they were to occupy, Napoleon ascended a neighbouring eminence, and acquainted himself with every feature of the surrounding country. His inquisitiveness knew no bounds. Not an inequality of the. ground, not an hedge escaped him. He was employed in this preparation during four or five hours, and, every observation was carefully noted in a map, which he carried in his hand.

The ground occupied by the two armies was the smallest in extent of front, compared with the numbers engaged, in the recollection of military men. The English line did not

This

extend more than a mile and a-half in length, and the French line about two miles. will partly account for the unparalleled losses which each party sustained, and particularly for the destruction caused by the artillery.

About nine o'clock the rain began to abate, and at eleven the French were in full position, and ready to advance to the attack. The left wing was commanded by Jerome Buonaparte; the centre by Generals Reilly and Erlon, and the right by Count Lobau. The imperial guard was in reserve. The French army consisted of eighty thousand men; the Duke of Wellington had not more than sixty-five thousand. The French regiments were the very élite of the army; but this was the first campaign which many of Wellington's troops had seen.

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(For the Mirror.) DEAREST of all the flowers that gaily gleam, In garden, field, or on the green hill's breast. For link'd with thee, does foud remembrance seem, With gentle memories round thy stem to rest! Some absent friend, in fancy hovers near, Some form, o'er dale and hill divided far, "Forget-me-not!" in distant tones we hear, Oh vain such prayers and parting wishes are! Yet still, forget me not! when moonlight sleeps, Ou garden walks where we together stray'd, When twilight dews, each gentle floweret weeps, And stars are gleaming o'er the shadowy glade. Forget me not! when midnight gales are high, When voices seem to whisper faint and low, When clouds career along the autumn sky, And winds are tossing wide the poplar bough. Forget me not! when morning breaks serene, Forget me not!-when deck'd in summer sheen, When molest spring her dewy garland wears, With flowers all gay, thy peaceful home appears. And think on me! in the calm holy hour, Devotion's own, when thou in prayer art bending, On thee may heaven its every blessing shower, Still let our prayers, tho' absent, thus be blending! Kirton-Lindsey. ANNE.

STANZAS.

(For the Mirror.)

THE pigeon, carried from her peaceful nest,
Skims thro' the ether back again to roam;
Spreads her glad wings, nor closes them to rest,
Tho' mountaius rise between her and her home.
So, should it be my destiny to track

A far-off land, or cross the yielding sea; When freed, I'll, as the faithful bird, turn back, Nor rest, my mother, 'till at home with thee! H. F.

EPITAPH ON SHAKSPEARE. Written in 1616, by an unknown author. RENOWNED Spenser, lye a thought more nighe To learned Chaucer; and rare Beaumont, lye A little nearer Spenser, to make roome For Shakspear in your three-fold, four-fold tombe; To lodge all four in one bed make a shift Until doom's day, or hardly will a fifthe Between this day and that, by fate be slaine For whom your curtaines may be drawn againe.

A VISIT TO LIVERPOOL.

BY AN AMERICAN."
Churches.

WE passed one or two churches, built in a handsome style. In general, their exterior was more showy than that of our own. They were also larger than our churches; but they were not so thickly scattered through the city; nor were their internal decorations so becoming and elegant. It is very unusual, for instance, to see a church richly carpeted; to see one or more windows hung with rich curtains; and to find the beautiful and chaste mahogany pulpits which ornament churches. It is true some of the pews, with their rich crimson cushions and velvet lining, equal our most beautiful ones; but there is a bareness over the larger part of them, that makes a sad contrast with the handsome pews of a church of any of our large cities or towns.

Public Buildings.

our

The public buildings did not strike me so favorably as I had expected. Perhaps my anticipations had been too high. The most imposing is the Town House, with its fine cupola, at the head of Castle Street. Though of the Corinthian order, its elegance is still of the sterner kind. Its base is of rustic masonry; and gives it a massive air; and the dark stone of which the whole is built, adds to the stability, if not to the beauty of the building. A colossal figure of Britannia presides over its swelling dome. Its interior, though chiefly occupied by the local authori. ties, has a superb ball-room for public levees and parties. Behind the Town Hall, is a large flagged square. It is enclosed by an elegant extensive building; the three fronts of which overlook this open space. These form the Liverpool Exchange. The buildings of the latter concentrate, in an admirable manner, all the offices and facilities which commercial men have occasion for, in the speedy transaction of business. The NewsRoom is a splendid hall;-ninety-four feet by fifty-two. The middle of the room is unoccupied; while elegant tables, liberally supplied with magazines and newspapers, are ranged along the sides. Many gentlemen were sitting in chairs by these tables; or were walking up and down the middle of the apart ment. The ceiling was supported by five fine columns; which gave the hall a spacious and noble air. The admirable arrangement and great extent of this useful room, and, indeed, of the whole building and its appurtenances, must communicate a fine tone to the commercial consequence of the place. Such buildings serve as standards of a nation's enterprise; while they tend largely to increase it. A city is deeply indebted, therefore, to the individual who projects a noble institution

• See our number for March 2, 1839, Volume 33; page 130; No. 938.

in its midst; for it imparts activity and a daring spirit to all kindred undertakings.

A Monument to the Memory of the illus trious Nelson occupies the middle of the square. It is of bronze; but its design violates all the principles of correct taste. After a while, out of the mass of savage figures, one detects the barbarous meaning of the artist. A fearful representation of Death triumphs over the dying victor; Britannia stands weeping behind; while a British sailor comes up to rescue or avenge the prostrate hero. Banners are floating desolately over them; and anchors, cannon, and naval trophies lie around. This is the idea, when extricated from the embryo in which it is left by the designer. The new Custom-House is an elegant and extensive building. It is not yet completed; and, like other public as well as private buildings in England, advances but slowly. The celerity with which we accomplish streets and squares, would be incredible in England.

Cemetery.

The Cemetery occupies a very favourable situation. It stands in the highest part of the city; and is removed, in a great measure, from its business, bustle, dirt, and wretchedness. The houses around have a more cheering aspect; the air has a freer circulation; and the thunder of the agitated city is softened down, by distance, into a soothing hum. Here stands the receptacle of the dead. It is enclosed by a low granite wall, surmounted by an iron railing; and the gateways are in the Egyptian style. From the exterior we discerned nothing else than a Grecian temple, and a beautiful porter's lodge, in excellent keeping with the genius of the place. Along the borders there are smooth gravel-walks, shaded by trees; and their sides are tastefully laid out and adorned with flowers of the most pleasing hue. No one touches these. Even the little children stooped down and gazed at them, and left them uninjured. "O, how pretty!"-said a sweet little child near me, looking up in the face of her brother, who was a few years older; "Mamma loved flowers so, too!"—"Yes," said he; "and Papa says that these are sacred to Mamma's memory." May they rest there unharmed, thought I; beautiful and touching remembrancers of the delicate being that once loved you! I did not pass away without feeling an interest in this unknown grave, and its unknown occupant.

We stood near the temple. A deep excavation in the solid rock lay beneath us. It is five hundred feet long, and fifty-two feet in depth. Inclined carriage-roads twine round the sides,-passing three successive galleries of catacombs, before reaching the burialground beneath. The latter is laid out in flower-beds and shrubberies: from the grateful shade of which the white marble funeral

or Beltein, which evidently had its rise in very early times, when a multiplicity of heathen deities was acknowledged by their forefathers.

urns and columns rise with a sweet and chastened soberness. We descended. "How suitable an entrance to the place!"-said my companion; as we passed through a gallery cut in the solid rock; the length of which On the borders of their fields, where the changed the intense light of day, into the young green corn is just springing up in solemn obscurity of parting twilight. It promising beauty, and where seed of all ushered us once more into the light; but kinds is beginning to enamel the swart how changed was the scene! If there are mould, every herdsman of every village perflowers and shrubs on one side of the carriage- forms the following sacrificial rite on the way, on the other are the silent mansions of first of this "merrie moneth," the month of the dead, hewn out of the massive rock. A May; and on the Sunday after, it is again flat marble slab, in the lower part of the repeated and again rejoiced over, in this Cemetery, formed the unconspicuous monument of the illustrious Huskisson. The whole scene is deeply impressive; being at once grand, simple, solemn, and beautiful.*

Markets.

I visited the markets while in Liverpool. Their exterior is unadorned, but their interior displays great profusion. There was the same admirable arrangement which is to be found in the Boston market; and the same variety of comforts and luxuries,-of meats and vegetables, which there greet our eyes. There was more game in the market than would be commonly found in our own; but not such a variety of water-fowl and fruit. The profusion of the Liverpool market comes all at once on the eye; for it is square, and is lighted from the roof; instead of presenting that succession of necessaries and luxuries, which meets the eye in passing through the Boston market. In walking through an English market, a stranger will often be urged to buy;—at least, by the fruit and oyster

women.

Manners and Customs.

THE BELTAN, OR MAY MYSTERIES OF THE
HIGHLANDS.

THE month of May in all the calendars of
mankind, whether they be ancient or mo-
dern, appears universally at the period of its
incoming, to have been celebrated with rural,
and sometimes mystical rites. None, perhaps,
is more recondite or remarkable than that
which, on the first of May, and again or
Sunday last, might have been seen enacted
on the bleak altitudes of the Scottish High-
lands. In those districts, the rural popula-
tion prevails, and it is natural to expect,
that, as such, they would use every possible
means in their power, to supplicate a good
and beneficent Providence to prosper their
pastoral labours, and on the other hand to
propitiate the evil from hurting, or injuring
them.

In token of this, the Highlanders of very recent days, according to Pennant, keep up a superstitious custom called Beltan,

A view of this spot, with some interesting particulars respecting it, will be found in our number for February 23; at page 113 of our present volume.

manner:

They cut a square trench in the ground, leaving a plot of turf central in the midst thereof: on this they lay large billets of wood, and kindle a blazing fire: on this they dress a sandell of eggs, butter, oatmeal, and milk and bring, besides the ingredients of the caudle, plenty of foaming beer, and bright whisky; for each of the company must contribute something. The rites begin with spilling some of the caudle on the ground, by way of libation: on that, every one takes a cake of oatmeal, upon which are raised nine square knobs, each of which is dedicated to some particular being, the supposed preserver of their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal, the real destroyer of them: each person then turns his face towards the red-flaming fire, breaks off a knob, and flinging it over his shoulder, says,

"This I give to thee-preserve thou my horses, This unto thee-preserve thou my sheep;" and so on in this manner, from the first to the ninth.

After this they use the same ceremony to the noxious animals, thus,

"This I give to thee, O Fox,-spare thou my Lambs.
This to thee, O hooded Crow.
This to thee, O Eagle !"

When this ceremony, of course much prolonged, and interspersed with other mystic evolutions of the body and voice, is concluded, the whole assembly sit down and the caudle, and discoursing on the felicitous commence their feasting, by dining upon prospects of the forth-coming year. Such is the festival of the Beltan.

ANCIENT AND MODERN FELONRY OF
ENGLAND.

AN especial delight it is to the antiquary, to
spend his time in observing the customs of
former ages; and as he places them in juxta-
position with those which exist in his own
day, to deduce from the parallel, those curious
and interesting remarks which the contrast
produces in his mind. Among the higher
walks of antiquarian lore, more especially
there is no lack of sterling entertainment.
such as relate to old and obsolete laws,
The subjoined passage, which is to be met

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