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NUMBER 80.
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SATURDAY, DECEMBER 3, 1842.
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Pmcr: THREE IIALFPENCE.
Remembrances.
HY ‘KHZ EDITOR.
Poon Ophelia, the sweetest type of Shakspere‘s love-
liness, has in the wayward utterings of her mournful
madness, breathed one sentence that almost realizes the
alcbemist’s dream, as, ‘
listener's earlike gold. In that distribution oi'tliought-
linked flowrets that she scattered with words of “ such
sweet breath composed as made the things more rich,”
there occurs the following-
“ Tlit-re’! Rosemary, that’: an remembrance, pray you, love, re-
member."
And were all things else forgotten, th.-it should we
indeed remember above all. It is from Iternenibrance
that we derive our cliiefjoys, our sunniest moments of
happiness are those stolen from reflection. From the
bottom of our heart do we pity that man who has not
A easr to fall back upon, who lives only in, and for, the
present, and who even dreads to anticipate the future.
llis mind is a blank, 3 thoughtless void, a mirror where
the reflection remains only so long as the ohject is sub-
stantially in sight. “'1; would shun such 3 man even
as a companion, as a friend we should distrust, and as
an enemy fear him. lle is the Peter Schlemil of our
daily encounter, the man most truly without a shadow,
for that implies reflection, and he has none. Each
morning brings to him a neiv life, for he knows not
yesterday, and thinks not of to-morrow, and yet his ex-
istence is that of ii vegetable, for thought is to him a
barren sound, signifying nothing. But the past is a
rich mine of mental wealth, with treasures for all who
wish to gain them. By the aid of retrospection, the
mic Gyges' ring, the present world becomes invisible
around us, and we live back ugiiin the happiest of our
bygone days. The vividity of early impressions be-
comes restored, the occurrences of to-day are lost in a
kind of dreamy half-consciousness, and all our present
bickerings me forgotten. Insignificant us the agents
may be that effect this, mighty are they in their magic
power. A song, ll word, is flower, ti few strains of
music, nay, even one note, will suffice to restore the
link that time has broken, and the associations con-
nected with the past, and memory, like the golden (hues
of departing day, whilst it invests each object with o.
borrowed lustre, leaves it that mellowed softness which
is so peculiarly its own.
“A penny for your thoughts,” cries some speculative
feminine dealer in such commodities, and lo! the offer
is accepted by some one as speculating, though per-
chtince more speculative, than herself, being Just
aroused from a study which may be green or brown as
the render chooses. This is the nearest approach to
purchasing mind with which ,we are -ncquziin-ted.
Thoughts are truly priceless things notvi-ithstanding,
even ifestimated, like baubles for sale, by the cost it
takes to produce them. and thoughts of the past are
doubly precious, rendered, like, other things, more rare
f,-Mn their angquiiy, Ofwhat iris-stimable worth to the
schoolboy are his thoughts 0f 110m“: Elf‘-‘l“9""fu' “'“l'
sunny memories the dull lesson before him, and blend-
ing the remembrance of Christmas festivities with the
less welcome knowledge of syntaxical I0"?! And “’l““
can money or money's worth doin the slial“? of C‘?mi’9"'
sation to the maiden for the early thought ofhim she
loves. Would she surrendtr her ht-art's warmest
wishes, her soul‘: clierislied hopes, for a for5"‘M“9“
ofthe past! Na; believe it not. The ["7915 m’l‘’d “
No. 48. Vol. ll.
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Lethe, it is true; but it was even by them unattainable
until after death. “'6 are not on the eve of making a
very original, albeit it is a very true remark, when we
state that one half of the pleasures derivable from this
world arise from the faculty of retrospective association-
It is chiefly to this man owes his supremacy over the
brute creation, Animals may think, nay reason, Lssorne
metaphysicians would assert; but they have no memo-
ries. True, an animal may recollect places from instinct
or power of scent, but all retlection on past occurrences
seems denied them. Now, let us try at random ll few
of these -veneral reminiscences, and see whether we can
resuscitate one agreeable image in the reader's mind.
First, in the days of schoolliood there was the joyous
holiday, the breaking beyond bounds, the game at cricket,
and the breaking-up. Then there was the schoolboy
love, the pretty childish face and gentle form that,
mantled in blue bonnet and slate-coloured pelisse, was
encountered at the village church on each consecutive
sabbath. And the furtirely-written notes, full of poetry,
blots, and protestations that were indited on the
leaves of tattered copy-books, and then torn up again
lest they should meet the angry eye of the dreaded
dominie, conducing much to the consumptive appearance
ofthe hooks themselves, and the plethoric emolument
of the school stationer. Then came the holidays
in real earnest, when the birch and fertile were
scoffed at, and the usher‘s frown no longer heeded.
When summer brought its country-walks and cooling
bathes, and Christmas a ceaseless round of merry pas-
times and jovial meetings. “'hen crouched round the
cheering fireside, the mighty plum-pudding presented
its round checks to the knife, or his more presump-
tuous brother, Mynhcer Twelfth-cake, buried his sugared
summit to the eye. What an achievement was the first
guessing of the mystic conundrum, and what I per-
plexing diiliculty to replace the piecemeal puzzle. And
then the going to see the Christmas pantomime I The
preparations beforeliand e the extatic astonishment
whilst it was being played-and the mingled sensations
of pleasure and regret as the frost-baked road was re-
traced for the return home. But years tlit by-each
quicker than the last, and even these delights are pro-
nounced over. The boy with his shortjscket and turn-
down collar becomes the young man, and then comes
the entrance into business, or the stolen hours of enjoy-
ment as an apprentice. The ball-room, the quadrille,
and one fair creature us his partner, now inspire his
dreams, and brighten his waking moments. He again
loves, and his passion grows with time. He enters
into a business or profession for himself, and marries
the object of his attachment. Happy! thrice happy
are they who tind not in that union the destruction of
all the pure romance of love and sentiment, and who,
when too late, discover that in marriage the mildncss
and attention, the sympathy and the good feeling of
courtship are all absorbed, neglected, and forgotten.
llere, at least with most men, terminates the pleasures
of the past. In after days, as cares crowd in more
numerously upon us, and the world rubs a little of its
own aspcrity oil’ upon ourselves, tlieretiospectiou limits
itself to Bl'El1'.lEml)l"dI'lC6 of a few intellectual evenings
snent with old friends, or an occasional pl:-asantjaunt
oiit of town. Unpleasant cmembranccs, too. at this
eventful epoch ofmsn's life creep in and jostle out the
rest. There is a remembrance of a certain bill being
due the next day, and not having the wherewithal to
being wanted for the children, and a certain hint from
your wife that it new shawl and bonnet two quite indis-
pensable. There is I! remembrance, too, of people
whom you have asked to “call again," because you
owe them money, iintl a remembrance of people that
will not call again, because they owe you money. Then
come rernembrances of several other things, too, just as
unpleasant, and perhaps more disagreeable, for which
the best advice we can give is for every one to get rid
of them as speedily as may be.
And now for remembrances of another description-
tbose in the shape of lockets, love-gifts, and keepsakes.
From the battered and crooked sixpencc, with 1 di.-iloya.l
hole perforated through his Majesty's cheek, which
Mary, the maid ofnll work, lioiirds jealously up in her
box, because John, the footman, gave it her-from this
humble testimony of love, to the glittering hnuhle that
decks the fingers of her young mistress, we admire and
prize them all. A lrvepsake, like mercy, is " twice
blessed-it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes."
No heart can be so dead to the best feelings of huma-
nity, as not to tlirob with some little emotion when the
eye is gazing in solace and secret on the last relic ofone
we dearly loved. It liallows the mind and purifies the
heart, and we have in saving faith, too, that it absolutely
betters the morals. No very atrocious dot-d couldbe
committed when the present of one we esteemed and
respected was near us to check every action. A locket
containing the hair of one no longer living, is a melan-
choly, but yet a gratifying memorial. It is a kind of
pledge given to those on earth in anticipation of a
blessed re-union hereafter. The hair, too, is the last
thing that decays, and is, tlicreforo, the most appropriate
relic oftlie dead. We never l)(‘l)0l(.l n locket suspended
amongst the glittering jewellery of a p:nvnhrokcr's win-
dow, without being led into in train of most sombre re.
tlcctions. What I! struggle between life and death must
that have been, that induced the possessor to relinquish
this last token, to satisfy the craving: of hunger. It
is too painful 3 theme to dwell upon long. The heart
sickens at the sight of things, the very possession of
which speaks of former opulence and present povertym
ofa once happy home, now Ilesertt-d. These glittering
memorials of Love, these sacred offerings of Frletlllslllrl,
are here exhibited like tho bony iiitcguments piled up
in the Parisian Catacombs, as part and parcel of the
virtually dead.
Not the least ofyoiir pleasant memhraucei, reader,
we trust, is that derived from n recollection of the arti-
cles you have perused in this our Journal. We have
kept late vigils, and endured niuch toil and labour, to
work only for your gratiticatioii; and let us hope, as
this has been to us ll labour nflore, to you its result has
been no other. “'e are now rapidly appranchitig the
conclusion of our second volume, and we trust its pro.
sence on your rosewool, mahogany, or simple deal, will
occur not seldom. Ponder deeply on the suggestions-
for we lay claim to little more-that are tliemin con.
tained, and ifyou rise not from ll'll‘lu purified in heart
and spirit, let us hope, at t,thaitlic fttultis not ours.
When dull, rometliing msy be found within its pages
to excite I smile; and vvlwn nioditative, there is some-
where food for the full indulgence of thy bent. One
thing at least is certain, and that is, that the um" or
this and the other articles to which his autliariiv is
sttached, will ever rank his employment, for thy shke,
as one of the pleasantest and most gratifying of All his
meet it, together with remembrance: of more things
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" Remembrances."
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