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, JOTTINGS OF A RAMB. LEB.I…

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JOTTINGS OF A RAMB. LEB. I t_ As I pass along from one thoroughfare to another of the great metropolis, my eye glances ever and anon at some new feature in advertising. I re- member when vans, carrying flaming advertise- ments, were all the rage, until they became so .great a nuisance that the police authorities gave orders to prevent their passing along the crowckd streets of London. Since then it has been the fashion for men, with huge boards, announcing this- or that-new feature, fastened either on their backs or their shoulders, to parade in line, varying from one to fifty, along all the principal thorough- fares, It is only within the last few years, how- ever, that the vacant spaces that are to be met with in various parts of London were found I capable of being turned to good account. I remember when the bill-poster went crawling about, fastening a placard upon any vacant place lie could find, quite regardless^f the notice, Bill- stickers, beware." But a new era set in, and men were found to "farm" dilapidated walls, or the fencings around new buildings. These, according to the new fashion, are called c: hoardings," and are found quite a source of profit to the builder. Again, persons who are not very particular about the outside appearance of their houses let the outer walls for a considerable sum per annum. Sometimes gable ends in central spots will fetch sums varying from < £ 20 to £ 50 per annum. A scheme was shown to me some time ago, which is to eclipse <everyfcning— viz., wherever space I ea.n be 'obtained in desirable situations, to erect revolving advertising stations; and to make these attractive, an automaton trumpeter should be placed m the centre of each, who should jump like a "Jack in the box in the air, and commence sounding his instrument three times a day—say at ten, one, and jun-down. The inventor believes this will bring cl him. a. handsome income, being assured that those wiho-come t-o witness the automaton's ability will, whilst waiting, be certain to read the advertise- ments. Eccentric advertisements have been fashionable ever since Mr. Dickens introduced Somebody's Luggage" to the world; the last, perhaps, of this kind was "Not Dead Yet-See the Quiver." Now that Christmas is arriving something of the same liind is coming on. I have been studying for the last"AVeek the .mysterious words" Are you In- 'ritM'P and thought within myself that although 1. have not heard from my friends. at present, I ■iiall not be forgotten in the festivities of the forthcoming reason. Then we see a very pretty picture of a young Jady, and under- neath i3 written "The Girl." I encountered this at, every turn, until she became in my eyes a■■"■second '"Mrs. Harris;" but am now informed the picture is intended to represent "The Orange Srirl" at one of the theatres. Then comes "Crtit ttpou with a picture of anything but an amiable character; this, it seems, is the title of a new tale in Cassell's Family Paper;" and after- ihatcomemysterious figures and myste- rious- kffcbers, all leading to the inference that there'"is a "World of Magic and Second Sight" exMbitfefl by the Wizard of the North, who ahffllenges all competitors. Then, for the sake of. Variety, are plain but large block letters, commencing ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS 1.GO the celebrated Jonathan Swift startled the British public by the publication of a work so new and strange, that every one who read it was filled with merriment and amazement. It was received with such avidity, that the price of the first edition was raised before the second 30uld be issued; it was read by high and low, learned and illiterate. Criticism was lost in wonder This ma-rvellous work was entitled F GULLIVER'S TRAVELS; or, TRAVELS INTO SEVE- RAL REMOTE REGIONS OF THE WORLD) by Lemuel Grulliver; and Messrs. Cassell, Petter, and Galpin announce its reproduction in penny numbers, the first of which has already appeared. How will they get out of it?" is another startling an- nouncement. I shall get out of it by informing my readers that this is a new .comedy at one of the theatres, and then I shall turn to Book Advertisements. The style and character of these have vastly improved since the time when Warren had a poet laureate for his blacking and Moses for his clothes. A quartet that I remember years ago in the little books that used to be tossed into the carriages of visitors on reaching London would not .now suit public taste. It was as follows :— There's a fault in the making! of some people's trousers, That makea 'am slit open whenever you. bow, sirs; But those of the Moses' are sovery pliaait, They would not rip up with the beud of a giant." Mr. Thomson, a crinoline maker, has, however, oelipsed all others in invoking the Muses to his aid. He offered one hundred guineas in prizes for the three best compositions, half for the writers, and half to a Shakespeare Memorial Fund. Immense num- bers of manuscripts were sent on approval, and it was no easy task to find adjudicators-to-give time and trouble to this object, and, at the same time, men whose names would be a sufficient guarantee of 'the manner in which the prizes should be awarded. The following gentlemen gave their septicea gratnitoualy on the occasion, much to-the satisfaction of every one :—B. Webster, Esq.; J. Sterling Coyne, Esq.; Andrew Halliday, Esq.; Geo:¡:ge'Rose,E¡¡q.; and Thomas Sturtt Stuerte, Esq. and as there is some extraordinary merit in i-Jte ,productions, I give an extract from them this shall probably revert to them next:— The Poem to Which the First Prize of Fifty Guineas was Awarded. COMPOSED BY WILLIAM FULFORD, of "Saul and other Poami," and "Songs of Life." Sweet aummer-day, whereon my love was.born, tWhat know we in the world more fair than thee » u-he voice of singing birds .doth greet thy morn; TCha leases are full on every shadowing tree. :.T»hiftc is the rose, and thine the lily whit 9; ■Tfaeaipis rich with fragrance thy lips breathe Bimnad&.the long and slowly-dying light which thle,sunsets wreathe. Sweet summer-day, whose beauty peerless seems; Yet ope thing fairer than thyself I know— ]K,V'Iove, a sweet face, whose softened spleiMlOlo- beams With radianee richer than thy suns can show. ,i,lily she more-graceful, sweet and fair, Thaa e'er breathed odour on thy balmy air. Hu sweet dark eyes, whose dark is Love's own light, v Sure, stars that beam with soft and tender fire WJjettrWill ye rise aaid shine upon my night, J^pd-britig me back mine own eyas lost desire ? Rich, hair tbe sunlight touches into gold, From whose bright change fresh splendours ever dart, That! might smooth you, nor be deemed too bold, Taasfline in y our «o £ t meshes hand ana heart I And eih, red lips! whose bloom I long to kiss, Sipe, swelling to the full and perfect rose, "loathe, low and say when mine will know the bliss To aW the balm that from your flower o erflows. Batk, scarry eyes, rose-lips and golden hair, Wlhy-'e.re ye lost, so sweet, so sovereign tair r 3 jty,, canst thou love me, canst thou be my own ? Or is thy beauty too divine, too pure .Forworship and for reverent awe alone, 'Wbich may not too familiar touch endure Gtai Love dishonour that which he would nolo, ,rAnd,cht,sp. to his own warm and beating ? Would his embraces be too ardent-bold, Atfd must he but adore and kneel apart ? My-own love tells me he is nothing bold, Btft s mctifies whatever he may touch: For while thy warm heart to mine own I fold, iiidwe'ex I love, I worship tbee as much. "When most.I know thee of our own dear earth, Thea most I feel thy beauty s heavenly birth. Oh, call not beauty a fast-fading flower; Or call it such, and prize it but the more: If Heaven will lend, but for one Meeting hour, Itsprecious gifts, the more should men adore. jfer think it only for the eyes' delight, outside charm unmeet to touch the soul: Ita very core with inward fire is bright, And purest splendour glorifies the whole. Worship it, therefore, as the very seal, Bv which Heaven marks and claims the earth its own. .Fran though it he, though time its freshness steal, 'Tis yet a flower in heavenly pastures grown. Brief, ay, foredoomed ere summer pass to fail; Yet) dear as brief, and priceless e'en as frail. IE I could fear that time or circumstance Could sunder our two hearts, I durst not love: I durst not set my >all, my life, on chance But now no doubts my steadfast trust can move. I will not call thee faithful: for thy soul Is very faith's itself, and constancy Inhabits so thy nature pure and whole, That, tempt what may, thou canst not xaithless be. Therefore it is I give my-very heart, Nor fear to stake my all, nor aught keep baek For though, a spendthrift, I yield every part, I fear no dearth; I know I cannot lack. Love being all I need, how. can I pine When Faith's own self seals Love for ever mine ? What softest words caupaint thy softer cheek ? What sweetest rhymes the sweetness of thy smile ? Truly to speak of thee all words are weak, All golden thought, all wealth of fancy vile. Thine eyes are tender depths of love and light; There all fair thoughts, all gentle passions lie Thy smile is sunshine, rather soft than bright; Thy cheeks likesmooth, rose-misted ivory. So fair thou art, so gentle, Nature's flower; Sweet lily, graceful, delicately pure; If any verse were fit to be thy bower, How shouldst thou grow in mine, and there endure! But ah verse never yet praised beauty right; How then thy beauty, which is infinite ? Queen of my heart, ascend thy throne, and there Reign without rival, reign until I die: No face or form, however sweet and feir, One glance allure from mine all-constant eye. Let other eyes from fair to fairer roam, And cull its beauty from each springing flower; Mine in one sovereign face have found their home; Dwell there, nor care to move from hour to hour. Yet lack I not for change, though my true look Be fixed unchanging-on the self-same view: For in thy beauty, like, some glorious book, Beading each day, each day but shows it new. Queen art thou, one and sole; yet on thy state Millions of subjects, thine own beauties, wait. List, my sweet love, it i3 the violet-time: The air is softening 'neath a luer sky; Fresh is the green upon the budding lime, Whoso tender leaflets tell the spring is nigh. The earth awakens, clad with beauty new, To soul and. senses offering Afresh delights: In our--young-hearts.-let Love awaken-too. Stretch his bright wings, and soar to fairer heights. Oh, now to wander, loving hand in hand, In gardens rich with grass, and tree, and flower I Oh, now, heart heating- time to heart, to stand And drink the sweetness of the sunset hour! See, my dear love, it is the violet-time The fresh year's spring, our life's sweet youthful prime. When,, far away from thee, I think how sweet 'It were to-sit and link thy hand in mine, While the swift minutes, gliding by, should fleet Unnoticed, as my heart beat time to thine; I sigh to think how many days pass on All unenjoyed, and all unshared by love: Night follows night, another day is gone, And Time's care-laden wings too lightly move. Oh, how much life is lost to love and joy Our years shrink down to weeks, our weeks to hours; Our gold of life is charged with life's alloy; Our Eden breeds more choking weeds than flowers. Oh, to give all my life, my love, to thee, Ai d make it thus a thousand lives to me! The tender truthfulness of thy dark eyes Haunts me, and must for ever haunt my brain: In my deep heart what-wild remembrance lies What wild desire, until we meet again! Until we meet! When shall we meet once more Is it a year, or one more lingering day ? Within a day to me there seems a store Of longing years that will not pass away. How few the hours when lovers meet and live! A short spring morn ere winter yet be past: A fond, vain hope, of summer it doth give; But, brief as bright, the sunshine will noi last. Oh, might thy dark eyes on me ever beam, t f r That I might live entranced as in a dream Oh, who would bear a heart at all unmoved, By Love, who is of life the very lord ? Who would forego the bliss to be beloved, Although Love's pangs are sharper than-a sword P Yea, in the pain there is so much of balm, I would not change it for delight less fine: The rich delirium robs the soul of calm To thrill it with a rapture too- drnne. Let whoso will draw unimpassioned breath; O'er me let Love all unresisted reign: Yea, though his high, imperial will be death, Still let me die, in sweet, delicious pain. For joy or woe, all mine to him I give, In heart and soul his own, to die or live. To look on-wonders with familiar eyes Makes us behold them as fatniliar tilings: 'Tis distance paints enchanted mysteries, f And half its loveliness on beauty flings. But one great wonder, seen how oft soe'er, Grows not less glorious, still wins awe as deep: One beauty is eternally as fair, And its first freshness all unchanged doth keep. Before the wonder of thy beauty still My soul bows down, withf homage all: as true, As when its splendour first mine eyes clid,fill, And blinded them with admiration new. Transcendent beauty, find I, grows not old, And Time can but its-endless change auifold.

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