DICTIONARY OF MODERN LIFE. Age. An infirmity nobody owns. At Home. The domestic amusement of three hundred visitors in a small room, to yawn at each other. Bore. Every thing one dislikes; it also means any person who talks of religion. Buying. Ordering goods without purpose of paying. Chariot. A vehicle for one's servants, the dickey being the seat for the ladies, and the coach-box for the gentlemen. Charity. A golden ticket to an opera-singer, or some favorite performer. Coachman. A gentleman, or accomplished nobleman. Conscience. Something to swear by. Day. Night; or, strictly speaking, from ten in the evening to six in the morning. Debt. A necessary evil. Decency. Keeping up an appearance. Dress. Duty. Doing as other people do. Fashion. The je ne scai quoi of excellence. Friend. Meaning not known. Highly Accomplished. Reading music at sight, painting flowers for the borders of a screen, and a talent for guessing charades. Home. Every one's house but your own. Hospitality. Obsolete. Husband. A person to pay your debts. Love. The meaning not known, now that the versification of the heart has become a fashionable disease; but the word is still to be found in novels and romances. Matrimony. A bargain. Modest. Sheepish. Morning. From noon to sunset. Music. Execution. New. Delightful. Nonsense. Polite conversation. Not at Home. Sitting in your own drawing-room. Pay. Only applied to visits. Piety. Hypocrisy. Prodigality. Generosity. Prudence. Parsimony. Quiz. Any inoffensive person-out of your own circle. Style. Splendid extravagance. Truth. Meaning uncertain. Vice. Any fault in horses, dogs, and servants. World. The circle of fashionable people when in town. RULES FOR PRESERVING HEALTH. BY DR. KITCHENER. The more luxuriously you live, the more exercise you require. Exercise, to have its full effect, must be continued till we feel a sensible degree of perspiration (which is the panacea for the preservation of corpulence,) and should, at least once a day, proceed to the borders of fatigue, but never pass them, or we shall be weakened instead of strengthened. After exercise, take care to get cool gradually; when your head perspires, rub it and your face, &c. dry with a cloth. Be content with one dish: as many men dig their grave with their teeth, as with the tankard. Drunkenness is destructive, but gluttony destroys a hundred to one. The food which we fancy most, generally sits easiest on the stomach. To affirm that any thing is unwholesome, without considering the subject in all the circumstances to which it bears relation, and the unaccountable peculiarities of different constitutions is, with submission, talking nonsense. What we have been longest used to is most likely to agree with us best. The unwholesomeness, &c. of all food depends very much on the quality of it, and the way in which it is cooked, Those who are poor in health must live as they can; certainly, the less stimulus any of us use the better, provided it be sufficient properly to carry on the circulation. The stately dames of Edward the Fourth's court rose with the lark, despatched their dinner at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and shortly after eight were wrapt in slumber. How would these people be astonished, could they be but witness to the present distribution of time among the children of fashion! would they not call the perverse conduct of those who rise at one or two, dine at eight, and retire to bed when the morning is unfolding all its glories, and nature putting on her most pleasing aspect-absolute insanity! Swift has observed, such is the extent of modern epicurism, that the world must be encompassed before a washerwoman can sit down to breakfast! i. e. by a voyage to the East for tea, and to the West for sugar. THE RESIDENCE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. The following description of the dwelling of the celebrated "Wizard of the North," is from "Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk," written by Sir Walter's son-in-law, Mr. Lockhart, the present editor of the Quarterly Review. Speaking of the Tweed, Peter says, "I saw this far-famed river for the first time, with the turrets of its poet's mansion immediately beyond it, and the bright foliage of his young larches reflected half-way over in its mirror. "You cannot imagine a more lovely river; it is as clear as the purest brook you ever saw, for I could count the white pebbles as I passed, and yet it is broad and deep, and, above all, extremely rapid; and although it rises sometimes to a much greater height, it seems to fill the whole of its bed magnificently. The ford (of which I made use,) is the same from which the house.takes its name, and a few minutes brought me to its gates. "Ere I came to it, however, I had time to see that it is a strange fantastic structure, built in total defiance of all those rules of uniformity, to which the modern architects of ScotG. 28. I i land are so much attached. It consists of one large tower, with several smaller ones clustering around it, all built of fine grey granite, their roofs diversified abundantly with all manner of antique chimney-tops, battlements, and turrets, the windows placed here and there, with appropriate irregularity, both of dimension and position, and the spaces between or above them not unfrequently occupied with saintly niches, and chivalrous coats of arms. Altogether, it bears a close resemblance to some of our true old English manor-houses, in which the forms of religious and warlike architecture are blended together, with no ungraceful mixture." THE BRITISH DRUM. O'er hill and plain what flashing swords The drum awakes proud England's lords, March to the roll, each warlike soul; Lo, like a flood they come! With the glorious British Drum. Plume, spear, and sword, and bayonet, The lute is in thy halls, Madrid! And the maiden's silken brows are hid With clusters of pure flowers. And shall we bow? the Spaniard cries ;- Oh no-not while the banner flies O'er the glorious British Drum! |