As though she were abashed to be thus seen Then mark'st thou not, that nought of her sweet blush Into the young heart's void steals timorous love. And then they come and go, till comes, alas! But is alone when passion's blaze is o'er justices at Westminster-hall, for personating various characters and names, and defrauding numbers of people, in order to support his extravagance. It appeared by the evidence, that he had cheated a tailor of a suit of velvet clothes, trimmed with gold; a jeweller of upwards of 1007. in rings and watches, which he pawned; a coachmaker of a chaise; a carver and cabinet-maker of household goods; a hosier, hatter, and shoemaker, and, in short, some of almost every other business, to the amount of a large sum. He sometimes appeared like a gentleman attended with livery servants; sometimes as a nobleman's steward; and, in the summer time, he travelled the west of England, in the character of Doctor Rock; and, at the same time, wrote to London for goods, in the names of the Rev. Laroche, and the Rev. Thomas Strickland. The evidence was full against him; notwithstanding which, he made a long speech in his own defence. He was sentenced to six months' hard labour in Bridewell, and, within that time, to be six times publicly whipped. Such offences are familiar to tradesmen of the present times, through many perpetrators of the like stamp; but all of them are not of the same audacity as Stroud, who, in the month following his conviction, wrote and published his life, wherein he gives a very extraordinary account of his adventures, but passes slightly over, or palliates his blackest crimes. He was bred a haberdasher of small wares in Fleet-street, married his mistress's sister before his apprenticeship determined, set up in the Poultry, became a bankrupt, in three months got his certificate signed, and again set up in Holborn, where he lived but a little while before he was thrown into the King's Bench for debt, and there got acquainted with one Playstowe, who gradually led him into scenes of fraud, which he afterwards imitated. Playstowe being a handsome man, usually passed for a gentleman, and Stroud for his steward; at last the former, after many adventures, married a girl with 40001., flew to France, and left Stroud in the lurch, who then retired to Yorkshire, and lived some time with his aunt, pretending his wife was dead, and he was just on the brink of marrying advantageously, when his real character was traced. He then went to Ireland, passed for a man of fashion, hired an equipage, made the most of that country, and escaped to London. His next grand expedition was to the west of England, where he still personated the man of fortune, got acquainted with a young lady, and pursued her to London, where justice overtook him; and, instead of wedlock, bound him in the fetters of Bridewell. On the 24th of June, 1752, Stroud received" his last and severest whipping, January 10. Winter in London. 36 12. On the 10th of January, 1812, it is observed, that London was this day involved, for several hours, in palpable darkness. The shops, offices, &c., were necessarily lighted up; but, the streets not being lighted as at night, it required nc small care in the passenger to find his The sky way, and avoid accidents. where any light pervaded it, showed the aspect of bronze. Such is, occasionally, the effect of the accumulation of smoke between two opposite gentle currents, or by means of a misty calm. The fuliginous cloud was visible, in this instance, from a distance of forty miles. Were it not for the extreme mobility of our atmosphere, this volcano of a hundred thousand mouths would, in winter, be scarcely habitable !+ Winter in the Country. All out door work • Gentleman's Magazine. + Howard on Climate. Now stands; the waggoner, with wisp-wound feet, Objects well known, now faintly recognised. Formless, the pointed cairn now scarce o'ertops The smothering drift; while, skulking at a side, Grahame. Mr. Paul Pry in the Character of Mr. Liston. LETTER from "Just popp'd in, you know!" PAUL PRY. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, I hope I don't intrude I have called at Ludgate-hill a great many times to see you, and made many kind inquiries, but I am always informed you are" not at home;" and what's worse, I never can learn when you'll be " at home;" I'm constantly told, "it's very uncertain." This looks very odd; I don't think it correct. Then again, on asking your people what the Every-Day Book is all about? they say it's about every thing; but that you know is no answer-is it? I want something more than that. When I tell 'em so, and that I'm so much engaged I haven't time to read, they say the book is as useful to people engaged in business as to people out of business-as if I was in business! I wish to acquaint every body, that I am not in business, and never was in business, though I've a dea of business to do; but then it's for my own amusement, and that's nobody's business, you know-as I also told 'em. They say it's impossible to describe the contents of the book, but that all the particulars are in the Index; that's just what I wanted; but behold! it is "not out"that is, it is not in-I mean not in the book-you take. Excuse my humorsomeness: I only wish to know when I can get it? They say in a few days, but, bless you, I don't believe 'em; for though I let 'em know I've a world of things to communicate to you, when you've time to see me, and let me ask you a few questions, they won't credit me, and why should I credit them-I was not born yesterday, I assure you. I'm of a very ancient stock, and I've some notion you and I are kinsmen-don't you think we are? I dare say there's a likeness, for I'm sure we are of the same disposition; if you aren't, how can you find out so much "about every thing." If I can make out that you are one of the Pry family, it will be mutually agreeable-won't it? How people will stare-won't they? I suppose you've heard how I've been used by Mr. Liston-my private character exposed on the public stage, and the whole town roaring at the whole of the Pry family. But we are neither to be cried down nor laughed down, and so I'd have let the play-goers know,if the managers had allowed me to sing a song on Newyear's night, in imitation of Mr. Liston when he's a playing me. Will you believe it-they burst out a laughing, and would not let me go on the boards-they said the audience would suppose me to be the actor himself; what harm would that have done the theatre ?-can you tell? They said, it would hurt Mr. Liston's feelings--never considering my feelings! If ever I try to serve them or their theatre again, I'll be-Liston! They shall be matched, however, if you'll help me. I've copied out my song, and if you'll print it in the Every-Day Book, it will drive 'em mad. I wish, of all things, that Mr. Cruikshank could see me in the character of Liston-he could hit me I know-don't you think he could?-just as I am"quite correct"-like he did "Guy Faux" last 5th of November. I never laughed so much in all my life as when I saw that. Bless you, I can mimic Liston all to nothing. Do get your friend George to your house some day-any day he likes— it's all one to me, for I call every day; and as I'm an "every-day" man, you know, why you might pop me at the head of the song in your Every-Day Book that's a joke you know-I can't help laughing-so droll! I've enclosed the song, you see. [The wish of this correspondent is complied with, and the manner wherein, it is presumed, he would have sung the song, is hinted at parenthetically.} (Determinedly.) I'll watch the new one though, (Returns.) Beg pardon-didn't bow-(Bows and exit.) (Returns.) Bid pardon-left my hat (Lingeringly.) It's always the wish of Paul, (Recollectively.) And-ladies and gentlemen-all! If you print this in the Every-Day Book it will send Liston into fits-it will kill him-won't it? But you know that's all right-if he takes me off I've a right to take him off-haven't I? I say, that's another joke-isn't it? Bless you, I co'd do as good as that for ever. But I want to see you, and ask you how you go on? and I've lots of intelligence for you -such things as never were known in this world—all true, and on the very best authority, you may take my word for it. Several of my relations have sent you budgets. Though they know you won't publish their names unless they like it, they don't choose to sign 'em to their letters for private reasons,-why don't you print 'em? They cann't give up their authors you know, (that's impossible,) but what does that signify? And then you give 'em so much trouble to call and make inquiries-not that they care about that, but it looks so. However, I'm in a great hurry and so you'll excuse me. -Mind though I shall pop in every day till I catch you. I hope you'll print the song-it's all my own writing, it will do for Liston, depend on it. What a joke isn't it a good one? the occasion described in the subjoined communication. For the Every-Day Book. THE FEAST WEEK. This festival, so called, is supposed to be nearly coeval with the establishment of Christianity in this island. Every new church that was founded was dedicated to some peculiar saint, and was naturally followed by a public religious celebration, generally on the day of that saint, or on the Sunday immediately following. Whatever might be the origin, the festival part is still observed in most of the villages of several of the midland and other counties. It is a season much to be remembered, and is anticipated with no little pleasure by the expecting villagers. The joyful note of preparation is given during the preceding week; and the clash, and splash, and bustle of cleansing, and whitewashing, and dusting, is to be seen and heard in almost every cottage. Nor is the still more important object of laying in a good solid supply for a hungry host of visitors forgotten. Happy those who can command a ham for the occasion. This is a great favourite, as it is a cut-and-come-again dish, ready at hand at all times. But this but can boast of a substantial plumis mostly with the tip-topping part. Few pudding!-And now the important day is arrived. The merry bells from the steeple announce the event; and groups of friends and relations, not forgetting distant cousins and children, are seen making their way, long before the hour of dinner, to the appointed spot. This is Sunday; and in the afternoon a portion of these strangers, clean and neatly dressed, are seen flocking to the village church, where the elevated band in the gallery, in great force both in noise and number, contribute lustily to their edification, and the clergyman endeavours to improve the solemnity of the occasion by an appropriate address. During the early part of the ensuing week, the feast |