But who art thou, that dar'st that glance of fire, Of recollected hope-of lost desire ?- And still, with her (that beautiful one!) share The mutual wish, unprompted and untaught- ANTIQUITY OF COACHES. It is not a little remarkable, that although we read in scripture of chariots for footmen, and of chariots for horses, and of the frequent use of carriages in ancient Greece and Rome; yet it was not until the middle of the reign of Queen Elizabeth that coaches were introduced into England: and we learn, that "good Queen Bess actually rode all the way from London to Exeter on horseback behind the lord chancellor. The first coach ever seen in England formed a part of the equipage of Henry Fitzalan, the last Earl of Arundel of that name, who died in 1579. It was invented by the French, as was the post-chaise also, which was first introduced into England by the son of the well-known writer on husbandry, Jethro Tull. Hackney-coaches were first established in London by Captain Bailey, in 1634; and, in the same year, hackney-chairs, or sedans, were introduced by Sir Sanders Duncombe, knight, who was a great traveller, and had most probably seen them at Sedan, in France, where Dr. Johnson supposes they were first made. Brewer, in his "Beauties of Middlesex," observes, in a note, that it is familiarly said, that Hackney, on account of its numerous respectable inhabitants, was the first place near London provided with coaches of hire, for the accommodation of families, and that thence arises the term hackney-coaches. This appears quite futile: the word hackney, as applied to a hireling, is traced to a remote British origin, and was certainly used in its present sense long before that village became conspicuous for wealth or population." In 1637, the number of hackneycoaches in London was confined to 60; in 1652, to 200; in 1654, to 300; in 1661, to 400; in 1664, to 700; in 1710, to 800; in 1771, to 1008; and, in 1802, to 1100; and is now above 1200. In imitation of our hackney-coaches, Nicholas Sauvage introduced the fiacres at Paris, in the year 1650. The hammercloth is an ornamental covering of the coach-box. Mr. S. Pegge says, "The coachman formerly used to carry a hammer, pincers, a few nails, &c. in a leathern pouch, hanging to his box, and this cloth was devised for the hiding of them from public view." CHERISH YOUR OLD FRIENDS, AND BEWARE HOW YOU FORM NEW ONES. Tom Rigby and George Falkner were natives of the same village. Rigby was the son of a carpenter; Falkner was an orphan his parents had been shopkeepers in the village, but at their death he was placed, by an uncle who lived in London, as a boarder with the village schoolmaster. The two boys were constantly together, and the greatest pleasure of their childhood was building castles in the air. They were never to separate: when they were old enough to be apprenticed, they were to be bound to the same business; and when they had each made their fortune, a thing which they never doubted would happen, they were to sit down together and enjoy themselves. There was, however, some difference in their notions of the manner in which the fortune should be applied. Tom delighted in planning improvements, which he was deter mined to make both in the village and in the condition of its inhabitants; one was to have his cottage rent-free; another was to have an additional cow; and the old woman, who sometimes gave them credit for apples and gingerbread, was to be put in possession of an excellent orchard, which Tom was determined to buy from a sour old fellow, who once took the liberty of thrashing our two friends for robbing it.√ George readily acquiesced in these arrangements, but he added others, to which Tom did not quite so cordially agree. They were to have a handsome house, fine clothes, and a car riage. It required much persuasion to reconcile Tom to the last-mentioned article, till he recollected that it would be very useful to the widow of their late curate, who was subject to the rheumatism. This good old lady was very fond of Tom; she often gave him cakes and halfpence, and he determined that she should be rewarded with the use of the coach. The time now began to draw near when our young castlebuilders were to commence those labours which they expected would be crowned with such splendid success. Tom's father talked of apprenticing him to a house-painter in a neighbouring town; and George mustered up all his courage to compose a letter to the uncle who supported him, for leave to be bound at the same time, and to the same master. Scarcely, however, had he begun to write, when he was told that his uncle desired to see him: full of surprise at this unexpected visit, he hastened to the parlour, where he was met by his uncle, whom he now saw for the first time; for hitherto the old gentleman had taken no other trouble about him than merely to pay the small sum agreed upon for his board. He embraced him with some appearance of affection; told him, that a few lucky hits in business induced him to think of doing more than he had hitherto done for his (George's) benefit, and that if he behaved himself properly, he would place him at a grand school, and make a gentleman of him. We must do George the justice to say, that the joy which this intelligence created in his mind, was balanced by the grief of parting with his friend. He cried heartily when he went to take leave of Tom, and was profuse in his assurances of all that he would do for him when he became a gentleman. Tom said very little; he struggled to suppress his tears, but they burst out when George bade him good bye, and he stood a long time with his eyes straining after the carriage in which his friend went away with his uncle. The variety of objects on the road helped to dissipate George's sorrow, and by the time he reached London he was in excellent spirits. In a few days his uncle placed him at a fashionable seminary; he had good clothes, a liberal allowance for his pocket, and instead of plain George, was called Master Falkner. Soon after his arrival in town, he wrote to his friend Tom, and received a reply, which he read with great pleasure. He intended to write again very soon; but day after day passed, and there was always something to prevent him. At last Tom grew very uneasy at his silence, and sent him another letter. George's ideas were now much altered; he began to have some notions of forms; the superscription “To George Falkner," hurt his dignity very much, and matters were not mended by the contents. One of his schoolfellows happened to be looking over his shoulder when he began to read it, and he burst out laughing, while he repeated aloud, “Dear George, this comes with my kind love and service, and hoping you are in good health." The other boys joined in his mirth; it was agreed among them that Tom was a poor ignorant country bumpkin; and for the credit of his gentility, George declared, that he was surprised that Tom should take the liberty to write in that free way to a person like him. Nevertheless, in spite of his assumed consequence, there were some passages in the letter which touched his heart, and he took the first opportunity to answer it; but in the ardour of his desire to teach Tom that politeness which he had just acquired himself, he attacked him so warmly on the respect with which it was necessary to treat a young gentleman like him, that his letter was little more than an instruction to his friend how it would be proper to address him in future. In answer to it he received the following: DEAR GEORGE,—I am very sorry to have made your schoolfellows laugh at you, for having such an acquaintance as I am. I knew that you were always more clever than I, but if you had written to me ever so badly, I should not let others ridicule you; no, George, if the biggest boy in our village said a word against you, I'd knock him down, that I would, if I was sure to be beaten to a mummy for it. But this is not what I wanted to say: only write to tell you, that seeing I don't know how, as you say, to express myself properly, I shall not write to you any more; for I never could remember all the directions you have sent me, and if I forgot them, you would be angry with me again. So good bye, dear George! I shall always wish you well, and will remain your true and loving friend till death us do part, T. RIGBY. What effect this letter might have had, if George consulted his own feelings, we cannot say, but by this time he got very intimate with Master Flareit, who was reckoned the genteelest boy in the school. George showed him the letter, which he declared was a most insolent scrawl: in consequence, George considered himself very much offended, and from that time he thought no more of Tom. Some year's elapsed: George's progress in his studies was not very great, but he became an adept in every thing fashionable. His uncle's wealth increased; and just as George had finished his education, he died, and left him a handsome fortune. Young Falkner soon proved, that he knew how to spend money as genteelly as anybody; his house, table, and equipage, were not only as fashionable, but as expensive, as those of people with four times his income. This was not all; he piqued himself upon his generosity, which, by the way, he exerted only for the benefit of his fashionable friends. If a gentleman happened to be out of cash, George's purse was directly at his service; if a lady admired an expensive trinket, Mr. Falkner was sure to offer it to her acceptance, and that, too, in so delicate a manner, that there was no refusing him; at least every body that he obliged said so. Things went on in this manner for five years. George thought himself the happiest man in the world; he was surrounded by friends, who all panted for an opportunity to serve him. At last the opportunity which they had so often desired, came, for he not only spent all his fortune, but got considerably in debt, a circumstance which gave him no uneasiness as long as his creditors did not trouble him; but as their patience could not last for ever, they clapped executions into his house, seized upon what was left, and in a few hours our man of fashion found himself without home, money, or any resource but the bounty of his friends. |