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while to observe, that the ancient policy of Great Britain was to keep foreigners ignorant of the barings and mysteries of our channels. This principle having been unfortunately relaxed, the Dutch made a disastrous use of their knowledge, entering the Medway in 1667, and insulting the majesty of the empire in its very citadel: and it is affirmed, that the master of every Dutch and Flemish trader was fit, at 1803, to pilot Buonaparte through the Nore. The old policy has since been revived, and no foreign vessel can now enter our ports without a British pilot. Hence the tolls on foreign ships, which it is the office of the third warden to levy. The scale of contribution is to be proportionate to the tonnage of the ship-which burden, with the draught of water, is measured by the fourth warden, who goes afloat for the purpose, and thereby encounters incessant, and sometimes hazardous labour. The ballast department is under two of the elder brethren, who are to remove sand or mud banks in the Thames where necessary, and cleanse and deepen the channel. To the constant efforts of this department is it ascribed, that the upper part of the river has not long since ceased to be navigable. But, it is apprehended that the time will come, when the exertions of the Trinity House to remedy the evils occasioned by sand and gravel brought down with the stream, and mud and filth swept into the river by the sewers of London, must be ineffectual, if the present system of making the Thames a common sewer and cesspool for the metropolis should continue." Of the pilotage, there are among the brethren two supervisors. Formerly, it seems, when pilots were not subject to the Trinity House, great impositions were practised by that class of indispensable functionaries; and foreigners more particularly were a frequent prey to their exactions. All the pilots round the British coast were, therefore, by acts of parliament, made subject to this corporation; "the consequence of which," says Mr. Money, in his statement, "has been great security to the trade of England, and above all to foreign shipping." Every pilot, it is alleged, whether of the outports or near home, undergoes an examination by the sub-commissioners of the Trinity House. There is also a subdivision of the brethren, entitled a "Committee of Examiners," whose

part it is to determine the qualifica tions of Masters for the Royal Navy. It may be interesting here to remark, that for each successive class of menof-war, to the service of which an officer of this description (the masters) aspires, he must be examined afresh, thus he is first brought before the Committee, to ascertain whether he possesses sufficient science to fit him for a sloop-of-war or cutter; but let him discover in that situation what skill he may, he cannot be received as master of a frigate, until he has undergone a second ordeal before the Committee. After a competent essay of his experience, he is cross-examined again; until, through as many of these proofs as there are intermediate classes of men-of-war, the candidate for the guidance of a 98 or 110 gun ship, which Mr. Money justly styles an object of great national importance, is scrutinized and probed by no less a personage than the Deputy-Master himself, in full canonicals, and the fiat given to the new Privy Councillor of Neptune, by the sign manual of that venerable chief. Three brethren compose the Committee of Light-houses, and superintend the coasts of the United Kingdom. Every quarter the brethren divide themselves into Committees, for the payment of the pensions and allowances to the poor in the alms-houses at Mile-end and Deptford; and to the out-pensioners in London and its vicinity. Such are represented to be the fixed and permanent duties of the Corporation.

Our observations upon the manner in which their duties are performed, and on the system of the Light-houses, we shall reserve till a future occasion.

ANCIENT COSTUME OF THE ENGLISH.

JAMES THE FIRST.

Henry Vere, the gallant Earl of Oxford, was the first nobleman that appeared at court, in the reign of James, with a hat and white feather; which was sometimes worn by the king himself.

The long love-lock seems to have been first in fashion among the beaux in this reign, who sometimes stuck flowers in their ears.

William, Earl of Pembroke, a man far from an effeminate character, is represented with ear-rings.

James appears to have left the beard

in much the same state as he found it on his accession to the throne.

The cloak, a dress of great antiquity, was more worn in this, than in any of the preceding reigns. It continued to be in fashion after the restoration of Charles the Second.

It is well known that James the First used to hunt in a ruff and trowsers.

We learn from Sir Thomas Overbury, that yellow stockings were worn by some of the ordinary gentlemen in the country.

Silk garters, puffed in a large knot, were worn below the knees, and knots or roes in the shoes.

Wilson informs us, that the Countess of Essex, after her divorce, appeared at court in the habit of a virgin, with her hair pendant almost to her feet: the Princess Elizabeth, with much more propriety, wore hers in the same manner, when she went to be married to the Prince Palatine.

The head of the Countess of Essex seems to be oppressed with ornaments; and she appears to have exposed more of the bosom than was seen in any former period.

The ladies began to indulge a strong passion for foreign laces in the reign of James, which rather increased than abated, in succeeding generations.

The ruff and farthingale continued to be worn.

Yellow starch for ruffs, first invented by the French, and adapted to the sallow complexions of that people, was introduced by Mrs. Turner, a physician's widow, who had a principal hand in poisoning Sir Thomas Overbury. This vain and infamous woman, who went to be hanged in a ruff of that colour, helped to support the fashion, as long as she was able. It began to decline upon her execution.

The ladies, like those of Spain, were banished from court during the reign of James, which was, perhaps, a reason why dress underwent very little alteration during that period.

The lady of Sir Robert Cary, afterwards Earl of Monmouth, was mistress of the sweet (or perfumed) coffers to Anne of Denmark; an office which answered to mistress of the robes at present.

It appears from portraits, that long coats were worn by boys till they were seven or eight years of age. We are told by Dean Fell, that the famous Doctor Hammond was in long coats when he was sent to Eaton School.

TRAITS OF SOCIETY.

No. III. GREECE.

[Continued from page 23.]

Their

The people of this island dress nearly in the same manner as the inhabitants of Constantinople. The ladies are distinguished by nothing but their light and lofty head-dress. This is a very ancient fashion, and has hitherto been preserved in the island dress according to the Cyprian taste, is much closer than that used by the Turks, and consists of a small vest, and a petticoat of red cotton cloth. Their robe is of cloth of velvet or silk: it is a long piece of stuff proceeding from the shoulders, which passes below the arms, and hangs down to the ground. It does not meet before, and leaves that part of the body entirely uncovered. Their shifts are of silk, and manufactured in the kingdom. They wear breeches, or a kind of drawers; and to half-boots, of yellow leather, are fixed, towards the ancle, sandals, which serve them for shoes. They have no stays; a plain vest of cotton marks out their shape, and preserves the pliableness of the body. Over the whole is thrown a very fine shift, or light veil, with which their modesty is not contented; and to which they add one made of some kind of stuff less delicate and transparent. Around their necks they have gold chains, and their arms are ornamented with pearls and jewels. Their headdress is an assemblage of beautiful printed muslin handkerchiefs, arranged so as to form something like a helmet; to the extremities of which they affix another handkerchief, folded into the shape of a triangle, and suffered to float over the shoulders. This kind of helmet raises them a foot and a half, and gives them a theatrical and gigantic appearance.

Embroidery is the chief occupation of the Greek women; they go out but little, and those that are obliged to labour for the support of their families, like our spinners, work from morning to night, together with their children and their slaves. The picture of an industrious woman, in Virgil's Eighth Book of the Eneid, is an exact copy after nature. "I have been," says Guys,

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neighbour, was lighted before daybreak; and all her young maidens were seated early at their work, enlivening their labour with songs."

In the Island of Metellis, contrary to the custom of all other countries, the eldest daughter inherits the family estate, and the sons, as daughters are every where else, are portioned off with small dowers, or, what is worse, turned out pennyless to seek their fortune. If a man have two daughters, the eldest is entitled to all her mother's possessions, which are by far the greater part of the family estate; for the mother, keeping up her prerogative, never parts with her power over any part she may have brought into the family, until there is a necessity for it by the marriage of her eldest daughter, and the father also is compelled to add whatever he can spare, even to their almost ruin. The second daughter inherits nothing, and is doomed to perpetual celibacy; she is styled a calogria, the proper signification of which is a nun or religious person, and is, in effect, a menial servant to her sister, being employed by her in any office she may think fit to impose, frequently serving her as a waiting-maid, cook, and often in offices more degrading.

Upon the whole, the Grecian ladies are more celebrated for beauty than chastity. Ancient Greece has recorded the names of numerous illustrious women, famed for conjugal duties and heroic sentiments; the modern females of Greece have deteriorated with the character of their country, influenced by the government under which they live, and the superstitions they imbibe. [To be continued.] }

OLD GRIMES.
Tune-"John Gilpin was a Citizen."
Old Grimes is dead-that good old man
We ne'er shall see him more!
He used to wear a long black coat,
All button'd down before.

His heart was open as the day;
His feelings all were true-
His hair was some inclined to grey;
He wore it in a queue.

Whene'er was heard the voice of pain,

His breast with pity burn'dThe large round head upon his cane, From ivory was turn'd.

Thus ever prompt at pity's call,
He knew no base design-
His eyes were dark and rather small;
His nose was aquiline.

He liv'd at peace with all mankind,
His coat had pocket-holes behind;
In friendship he was true-
His pantaloons were blue.
Unarm'd-the sin which earth pollutes,
He pass'd securely o'er-
And never wore a pair of boots,
For thirty years, or more.
But poor old Grimes is now at rest,

He had a double-breasted vest,
Nor fears misfortune's frown-

The stripes ran up and down.
He modest merit sought to find,
And pay it its desert-
He had no malice in his mind;

No ruffles on his shirt.

His neighbours he did not abuse;
Was sociable and gay-
He wore large buckles on his shoes;
And chang'd them every day.
His knowledge hid him from public

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LOUIS THE XVth AND HIS
EQUERRY.

M. de Landsmath, equerry and master of the hounds to Louis the 15th, was an old soldier of tried valour, but so rough in his manners, that nothing could soften them down to the obsequiousness of a court. Enjoying, in a peculiar degree, the favour of his royal master, his natural bluntness was allowed a very considerable latitude; and he was in the constant habit of talking most freely to the king. When the equerry came to the king's apartment (soon after

the attempt to assassinate that monarch) he found the Dauphin, and Mesdames, his majesty's daughters, there; the princesses in tears surrounding the king's bed. "Send out all these weeping ladies, sire," said the old equerry, "I want to speak to you alone." The king made a sign to the princesses to withdraw. 66 Come," said Landsmath, ' your wound is nothing; you had plenty of waistcoats and flannel on." Then uncovering his breast, "Look here," said he, shewing four or five scars, "these are something like wounds, I received them thirty years ago; now cough as loud as you can.'

"

The king did so. Then taking up a rase de nuit, he desired his majesty, in the most unceremonious way, to make use of it, which he did. ""Tis nothing at all," said Landsmath, "you must laugh at it; we shall hunt a stag together in four days." "But suppose that the blade was poisoned," said the king. "Old grandam's tales," replied Landsmath, "if it had been so, the waistcoats and flannels would have rubbed the poison off." The king was consoled, and passed a very good night.

His majesty one day asked M. de Landsmath how old he was? He was aged, and by no means fond of having his thoughts directed to that subject; he evaded the question. A fortnight after, Louis took a paper out of his pocket, and read aloud, "On such a day, in the month of. one thousand six hundred and eighty was baptised by me, rector of the son of the high and mighty Lord," &c. "What's that," said Landsmath, angrily; "has your majesty been procuring the certificate of my baptism?" "There it is, you see Landsmath," said the king. 66 Well, sire, hide it as fast as you can; a prince entrusted with the happiness of twenty-five millions of men ought not to hurt the feelings of one individual at pleasure.

The king learned that Landsmath had lost his confessor, a missionary priest of the parish of Notre Dame; it was the custom of the Lazarists to expose their dead, with the face uncovered. Louis wished to try his equerry's firmness. "You have lost your confessor, I hear," 'said the king. "Yes, sire." "He will be exposed with his face bare." "Such is the custom." "I command you to go and see him." "Sire, my confessor was my friend; it would be very painful to me.' "No matter; I

command you." "Are you really in earnest, sire?" "Quite so." "It would be the first time in my life that I had disobeyed my sovereign's order. I will go." The next day, the king, at his levee, as soon as he perceived Landsmath, said, "Have you done as I desired you, Landsmath?" "Undoubtedly, sire." "Well, what did you see?" "Faith, I saw that your majesty and I are no great things."

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Sobriety. The sober moments which immediately succeed to dinner are the most miserable in existence. The languor, the sense of utter inefficacy, mental and bodily, are dreadful. After a few glasses, you ascend the first step of the pyramid, and become comfortable. In this state, you are not much disposed to talk. There is a tranquil luxury in your feelings, and a reverie comes on, which, if you drink no more, is likely to terminate in sleep. A philosopher seldom passes the point, except in company.

Drink on and you step up to lively. Now you begin to talk, and your remarks are smart and pertinent. You have the reasoning power in high perfection, but aided withal by a happy fertility of illustration. This may be considered as a mental aurora, announcing that the sun of fancy is about to rise from the purple wave.' Fresh.-There is more fire and colour in your ideas has isen. You grow more eloquent for that sun now, and less logical. Your jokes are capital-in your own estimation. Your perceptions are still tolerably clear, beyond yourself.

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Very fresh.-Your conversation is more and more highly coloured. Your eloquence is impassioned, and you overwhelm your companions in a flood

of talk; you begin to suit the action to the word. Ideas not quite coherent, but language still tolerably distinct and correct.

Tipsy.-Now on the top of the pyramid, you begin to grow giddy. Gestures very vehement, and epithets much exaggerated. Argumentative, but not rational. Words considerably abridged and ideas lamentably obscured.

Very tipsy.-You find out that you have a turn for vocal music, and regale your friends with a solo. Speechify in incoherent language, and evince a most decided tendency to mischief and locomotion. Proud as a peacock, stout as a lion, and amorous as a dove.

Drunk.-Perversely quarrelsome, and stupidly good-natured. Dealing much in shake hands, and knock downs. Tongue stammering and feet unsteady. Very Drunk.-Abortive efforts to appear sober. See every thing double. Balance totally lost, you drift about like a ship in a hard gale. Vocabulary reduced to a few interjections.

Stupidly drunk.--Head and stomach topsy-turvy. Eyes fixed and glaring. Utter incapacity of speech and locomotion, accompanied with an indistinct yet horrid consciousness of your situation.

Dead drunk.--An apoplectic sleep, and confused dreams of the devil and your creditors.

COLD COMFORT.

ON SOLITUDE.

BY H. K. WHITE.

It is not that my lot is low,
That bids the silent tear to flow;
It is not grief that bids me moan,
It is that I am all alone.
In woods and glens I love to roam,
When the tired hedger hies him home,
Or by the woodland pool to rest,
When pale the star looks on its breast.
Yet when the silent evening sighs,
With hallow'd airs and symphonies,
My spirit takes another tone,
And sighs that it is all alone.
The autumn leaf is sear and dead,
It floats upon the water's bed;
I would not be a leaf, to die
Without according sorrow's sigh!
The woods and winds with sullen wail,
Tell all the same unvaried tale;
I've none to smile when I am free,
And when I sigh, to sigh with me.
Yet in my dreams a form I view,
That thinks on me, and loves me too;
I start, and when the vision's flown,
I weep that I am all alone.

STANZAS

WRITTEN AT AN INN, BY DR. HORNE, WHEN BISHOP OF NORWICH.

I.

The world is like an Inn ;-for there

An Englishman once from fair England Men call, and storm, and drink and

had gone

In Scotland to travel a-foot and alone. Five weeks on Scotch ground to the North he had pass'd,

And all the five weeks had the rain fallen fast;

And still it was falling yet faster and

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swear;

While undisturbed a Christian waits, And reads, and writes, and meditates.

II.

Though in the dark oft-times I stray,
The Lord shall light me on my way,
And to the city of the Sun,
Conduct me, when my journey's done.
III.

There by these eyes shall He be seen,
Who sojourn'd for me in an Inn;

On Sion's hill I those shall hail
From whom I parted in the Vale.

IV.

Why am I heavy then, and sad, When thoughts like these should'st make me glad?

Muse then no more on things below; Arise, my soul! and let us go.

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