The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1825-08-10 00:00:00

LiTERIBY GLEANINGS.

No. ylll.
Ma. Dar.—The following interesting particulars of the
Author of Sandford and Merton exhibit a singularity of
character and conduct, of which the whole range of bio-
graph, furnishes no example s—
" Mr. Day looked the philosopher. Powder and fine
clothes were, at that time, the appendages of gentlemen.
Mr. Day wore not either. He was tall and stcr.,ped in the
shoulders, full made, but not corpulent; and in his me-
ditative and melancholy air a degree of awkwardness and
dignity were blended. We found his features interesting
and agreeable amidst the traces of a severe small-pox.
There was a sort of weight upon the lids of his large battle
eyes; yet whets be declaimed,
Of good and nil,
• rank*, sod apathy, mad glory, and shame,`
very eepremilve where the energies gleaming from them be-
neath the mime of sable hair, which, Adamlike, curled
about his brevet. Less graceftd, less amusing, less bril-
liant than Mr. g., but more highly imaginative, more clas-
ecal, and a deeper reasoner: strict integrity, energetic
friendship, open-handed bounty, sedulous and diffusive
charity, giestly overbalaneed, on the side of tlrtue, the
tincture of misanthropic gloom and proud contempt of
common-life society, that marked the peculiar character
which @Lail unfold itself on these pages. In succeeding
yeses, Mr. Day pabilshed two noble poems, the Drying
Negro, and the Devoted Legions ; also Sandford and ker-
bs which by wise parents is put into every youthful
hands.
" 3lr. Day's father died during his infancy, and left him
an estate of twelve hundred pounds per annum, Soon
after his mother married a gentleman of the name of
Phillips. The author of this narrative has often heard Mr.
Dav describe Ifni as one of those common characters, who
are to supply their inherent want of consequence, by a
bu,y teasing interference in circumstances with which they
have no real concern.
" Mrs. Phillips, jointured with three hundred pounds a
year out of her son's estate, was left his sole guardian, or
united with another person in the trust, whom she influ-
enced. Herself, influenced hv such a husband, often ren-
dered uncomfortable the domestic situation of a high
spirited youth of genius. We may well suppose he im-
patiently brooked the preceptive impertinence, and trouble-
some authority of a man whom he despised, and who had
no claim upon his obedience, though he considered it as
'duty to pay some outward respect to the husband of his
mother.

" She frequently repined at the narrowness of her join-
ture, and still oftener expressed solicitude lest Mr. Phillips,
who bad no fortune of his own, should lose in the decline
of life, by losing her, all comfortable subsistence. It was
Mr Day's first act, on coming of age, and into possession
of his estate, to augment his soother's jointure to four
hundred, and to settle it upon Mr. Phillips during his life.
?his bounty, to a man who had needlessly mortified and
embittered so many years of his own infancy and youth,
evinced a very elevated mind. That mini had alto been
wounded by the caprice of a young lady, who' claimed the
triumph of a lettered heart,' without knowing how to value
and retain Ilex prime.
" Even at that period, `when youth, elate and gay, steps
into life,' Mr. Day was a rigid moralist, who proudly im-
posed on himself cold abstinence, even from the most
intwent pleasuree; nor would he allow an action to be
virtuous, which was performed upon any hope of reward,
hire, or hi reafter. This severity of principle, mote ab-
stract and specious, than natural or useful, rendered Mr.
Day sceptical towards revealed religion, though by no
means a confirmed deist. Most unlike Dr. Johnson in
those doubts, he resembled him in want of sym-
pathy with such miseries as spring from refinement and
the softer affections; resembled him also, in true comps:-
Son for the sufferings of cold and hunger. To the power
of relieving them he nobly sacrificed all the parade of life,
and all the pleasures of luxury. For that mass of human
eaarscter which constitutes polished society, he avowed a
Sovereign contempt ; above all things he expressed aversion
to the modern plans of female education, attributing to I
their influencz the fickleness which had stung him. He I
thought it. however, his duty to marry ; nursed systematic
idea of the force f philosophic tuition to produce future
simile, and laved to mould the infant and youthful mind.
" Ever despicable in Mr. Day's estimation were the dis-
tinctions of birth, and the advantages of wealth ; and he
haillearnt to look back with resentment to the allurements
Si the graces. He resolved, if possible, that his wife should
have a taste for literature and science, for moral and pa-
triotic philosophy. So might she he his companion in that
rttirement, to which he hail destined himself; and assist
him in forming the miuda of his children to stubborn
virtue and high exertion. He resolved also, that she should
be simple as a mountain girl, in her dress, her diet, and
her manners ; fettles. and intrepid as the Spartan wives
MI Roman heroines. There was no finding such a crea-
ture ready made ; philemphical romance could not hope it.
He must mould some infant into the being his fancy had'
imsecd.

" With the late Mr. Bieknel, then a banister, in consi II
-
ileralile practice, and of taintless reputation, and several'
!ars older than himself, Mr. Day lived oa terms of inti-
ive friendship. Credentials were procured of Mr. Day's
n!rical probity, and with them, on his coming of age, these
Ito friends journied to Shrewsbury, to explore the hospi-
tal in that town for foundling girls. From that little train
Mr. Day, in the presence of Mr. Bicknel, selected two of
twilve pars each, both beautiful ; one fair, with flaxen
licks and light eves; her he called Lucretia. The other,
h deer auburn brunette, with darker eyes, more glowing
Worn and cheating tresses, he named Sabrina.
These girls were obtained on written conditions, for,
the performance of which Mr. Bieknel was guarantee.
ital trete to this effect; that Mr. Day 'herald, within the
tsfelts momh after taking them, resign one into the pro-
teulor, of some reputable tradrawoman, giving one hundred
ttautels to bind her apprentice ; maintaining her, if she be'll
rut well, till she inert-it d, or began business for herself.'
UP% tidier of these events, he promised to advance four
leindrtd more. He avowed' his intention of educating the
I' I'll.rlhe should retain, with a view to making her his future
solemnly elignge.l never to violate her innocence;
sal if be should r nounce his plan, to maintain her de-1
"11l in some creditable family till she married, when he!
!Tainted eve letudreil pounds as her wedding portion.
ISay went instantly into France • ith thew gills
tskirg an English *errant, that' t
might receive no
W. except those which himself might choose to impact.
,u" They tenet! and perplexed him ; they quarrelled, and
dtight incessantly ; they sickened of the small-pox ; they
i,sincil hien to their bed-side by crying, and screaming if
t_tl:y wire ever left a moment with any person who could
,11:,t speak to them in English. He was obliged to sit up
terth them many nights to perform for diem the lowest
(S of assistance.
ruey lost no beauty by their disease. Soon after they
*ad fi •
covivert, crossing the Rhone with his wards in a tem-
11`.4"tis day, the bust overact. Being an excellent swain-

viler he saved them both, drone) with ditEculty and dangei
to himself.
" Mr. Day came back to England in eight months,
heartily glad to separate the little squabblers. Sabrina was,
become the favourite. He placed the fair Lucretia with a
chamber milliner. She behaved well, and became the
wife of a respectable linen-draper in London. ()n his re-
turn to his native country he entrusted Sabrina to the are
of Mr. Bicknel's mother, with whom she resided Bowe
months in a country village, while he settled his affair, It
his own mansion-house, from which he promised not to re-
move his mother.

" It has been said before, that the fame of Dr. Darwin's
talenta allured Mr. Day to Liebtiekl. Thither he led,
in the spring of the year 1770, the beauteous Sabrina,
then thirteen years old; and taking a twelvemonth's pos-
session of the pleasant mansion in Stowe Valley, resumed
his preparations for implanting in her young mind the
thiticteristit virtues of Arria, Portia, and Cornelia. His
experiments had ntst the success he wished and expected.
Her spirit toukl nit be armed against the dread of' pain,
and the *appearance of danger. When he dropped melt-
ed sealing %via on her arms she did not endure it heroically,
nor when he Bred pistols at her petticoats, which she be-
lieved to be charged with ball, could she help starting aside
or suppress her screams.
" When he tried her fidelity in secret-keeping, by telling
her of well-invented dangers to himself, in which greater
danger would result from its being discovered that he wan
aware of them, he once or twice detected her having lay
*pined them to the servants, and to her play-fellows.
"She betrayed her averseness to the study of books, and
of the rudiments of science, which gave little promise of
ability that should one day be responsible for the education
of youths, who were to emulate the Gracchi.
" Mr. Day persisted in these experiments, and sustained
their continual disappointment during a year's residence
in the vicinity of Lichfield. The difficulty seemed to lie
in giving her motive to exertion, self-denial, and heroism.
It was against his plan to draw it from the usual sources,
peguniary reward, Inxury, ambition, or vanity. His watch-
fill cares had precluded all knowledge of the value of
money, the reputation of beauty, and its concomitant desire
of ornamented dress. The only inducement, therefore,
which this lovely artless girl could have to combat and
subdue the natural preference, in youth so blossoming, of
ease to pain, of vacant sport to the labour of thinking,
was the desire of pleasing her protector, though she knew
not how, or why he became such. In that desire, fear had
greatly the ascendant of affection, and fear is a cold and
indolent feeling.
" Thus, after a series of fruitless trials, Mr. Dal re-
nounced all hope of moulding Sabrina into the being his
imagination bad formed ; and ceasing to behold her as his
future wife, 'lie placed her at a boarding-school in Sutton-
Coldfield, Warwickshire. His trust in the power of edu-
cation faltered ; his aversion to modern elegance subsided.
From the time he first lived in the vale of Stowe he had
daily conversed with the beautiful Miss Vonore Sneyd of
Lichfield. Without having received a Spartan education,
she united a disinterested desire to please, fortitude of
spirit, native strength of intellect, literary and scientific
taste, so unswerving truth, and to all the graces. She
was the very Honors Sneyd, for whom the gallant and un-
fortunate ::lajor Andre's inextinguishable passion is cib
poetic, as his military fame and hapless destiny are on
patriot record. Parental authority having dissolved the
juvenile engagements of this distinguished youth and maid,
Mr. Day offered to Honora his philosophic hand. Sho ad-
mired his talents ; she rereretl his virtues ; she tried to
school her heart into softer sentiments in his favour. She
did not succeed in that attempt, and ingenuously told him
so. Her sister, Miss Elizabeth Sneyd, one year younger
than herself, was very pretty, very sprightly, very artless,
, and very engaging, though countless degrees inferior to the
endowed and adorned Honors. To her the yet love-luck-
less sage transferred the heart, which Honore had with
sighs resigned. Elizabeth told Mr. Day she could have
loved him, If he had acquired the manners of the world,
instead of those austere singularities of air, habit, and
address.

" He began to impute to them the fickleness of his first
love ; the involuntary iciness of the charming Honors, as
well as that for which her sister accounted. He told
Elizabeth, that for her sake he would renounce his preju-
dices to external refinements, and try to acquire them. Ile
would go to Paris for a year. and commit himself to danc-
ing and hoeing-masters. He did so ; ■tool daily an hour
or two in frames, to screw back his shoulders and point his
feet ; he practised the military gait, the fashionable bow,
minuets,' and cotillions: but it was too late ; habits so
long fist I could no more than partially be overcome. The
endeavour made at intervals, and by visible effort, wigs
more really ungraceful than the natural stoop and un-
fashionable air. The studied bow on entrance, the sud-
denly recollected assumption of attitude, prompted the
risible instead of the admiring sensation ; neither was the
showy dos, in which he came back to his fair one, a jot
more becoming.

" Poor Eliiaheth reproached her reluctant but insup.
pressive ingratitude, upon which all this labour, these
sacrifices had been wasted. She confessed that Thomas
Day, blackguard, as he used jestingly to style himself, less
displeased her eye than Thomas Day, fine gentleman.
" Thus again disappointed, lie resumed his accustomed
plainness of garb, and neglect of his person, and went
again upon the Continent for another year, with pursuits
of higher aim, more congenial to his talents and former
principles. Returning to England in 1773, he saw that
spring, Miss Ilonora Sneyil united to his friend Mr.
' Edgeworth, who was become a widower; and in the year
1780, he learned that his atestood love of that name Miss
Elizabeth Sneyd, was also, after the death of Honors,
married to Mr. Edgeworth.
" It was singular that Mr. Day should thus, in the course
of seven years, find himself doubly rivalled by his most
intimate friend ; but his own previously rencunced pur-
suit of those beautiful young women, left him without
either cause or sensation of resentment on their account.

" From the year 1773, this hitherto love-renounced
philosopher resided chiefly in London, and amid the small
and select circle which he frequented there, often met the
pretty and elegant Miss Esther Mills, of Derbyshire, who,
with modern acquirements, and amongst modish luxuries,
suited to her large fortune, had cultivated her understand-
ing by books, and her virtues by benevolence. The again
unpolished stoic had every charm in her eyes,
• She saw Othello's visage in his mind.'
llut, from indignant recollection of hopes so repeatedly
baffled, Mr. Day looked with distrust on female attention
of however flattering semblance; nor was it till afar years
of her modest, yet tender devotion to his talents and merit,
that he designed to ask Miss Mills, if she could, for his
sake, resign all that the world calls pleasures ; all its
luxuries, all its ostentations; if with him she could resolve
to employ, after Cie ortlimry comforts of life were sup-
plied, the surplus of her affluent fortune in clothing the
naked and feeding the hungry, retire with him into the I
country, and shun, through remaining existence, the
infectious taint of human society.
" Mr. Day's constitutional fault, like poor Cowper s,
seemed that of looking with severe and disgusted eyes
upon those venial errors in his species, which are mutually
tolerated by mankind. This stain of misanthropy was
extremely deepened by his commerce with the world, re-
strained as that commerce ever had been. Satiric, jealous,
'and discerning, it was not easy to deceive him ; yet, in a
few instances was he deceived by the appearance of virtues
congenial to his own
• For neither man nor angel can discern
• Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
' Invisible, except to God alone.'
"To proposals so formidable, so sure to be rejected by a
heart lees than infinitely attached, Miss Mills gladly as-
sented, but something more remained. Mr. Day insisted
that her whole fortune should be settled upon herself,
totally out of his present or future control ; that if she
grew tired of a system of life so likely to weary a woman
of the world, she might return to that world any hour she
'chose, fully empowered to resume its habits and its
pleasures.
They married, and retired into the country about the
lyear 1780, according to the best recollection of the author
of theme memoirs. No carriage; no appointed servant
about Mrs. Day's own person ; no luxury of any sort.
Music, in which she was a distinguished proficient, was
deemed trivial. She banished her harpsichord and music-
books. Frequent experiments upon her temper, arid her
attachment, were made by him, whom she lived but to
obey and love. Over these she often wept, but never re-1
pined. No wife. bound in the strictest fetters, as to the
incapacity of claiming separate maintenance, ever made

more abiAnte sacrifices to At roost hiperlons husband,
than did this lady, whon Independentle had been secured,
and of whom nothing nes 'dethAded as a dun.
" Thus Mr. Day found, at last, the very clan he
'dreaded, that of fashionable women' n a heart whose pissibn
I for him sUpplied all the requisitesor his higb-to'ned ek-
pectations.
" Some eight or ten years Ad ha titirrlage, the life of
this singular being became, in id Iteiritilan, a victim to otur
of his uncommon systems. He thought highly of the gri,
titude, generoeity, and sensibilitylit hones; and that when:.
ever they were disobedient, unruly, at vicious, it was ettriiig,
Ito previous 11l usage from men. He had reared. fed. Ind
tamed a favourite foal: When it was time it should be-
come serviceable, disdaining tro employ a horsebenker, he
would use It to the bit and the burden himself. He was
not a good horseman. The animals disliking his new situ-
ation, heeded not the soothing voice to which he had been
accustomed. He plunged, threw his muter, and then,
with his heels, struck him on the head en instantly fatal
blow. It was laid that Mrs. Day never afterWarda saw the
sun ; that she lay in bed, into the curtains Of which no
light was admitted during the day, and only rose to stray
alone through her garden, when night gave her sorrows
congenial gloom. She survived this adored husband two
years, and then died, broken-hearted, for his loss."—Min
&wards Memoirs.

RESTORATION OF GREECE.

-- _ L .

Thy glorious seased motet try reek
Gilded by libedestitundna .
Shall be the plat **Mei • leg Greece
Shall turn her wee apse thy shores
Ratak shalt oyes with shouts
Of martial p • edit • 1011P0
To burst their drains, Ire arms.
Then on thy Isthmus. 4"t tat.
In sleepless Connell. whets `Zr
Paes'd lilke a pestilence'
Thy warners shall liftp Mk' ma
Again all stretch Its line
And eery name of thy heroic dal.-
Shall be a watch-word for the gath east vhie.
And, 0 my country ! let thy voice be bleed
Amidst the din of battle, like the cry
Of the and eagle in the upeopeet's roar s
When Hellas rises to esserther rights.
Ile not far from her : let thy chleUns
Direct the onset. and thy handy sons
Be foremost in the fight which Britons lona
The fight for liberty. %t'hen tortur'd Greve!
!jailer her supplicating eyes to thee,
Turn not away, nor let thy virtwoue nettle,
Pledg'd to a faithless Itoerti of infidels.
Be mule the safeguard of her tyrants-4%10--
Rather let your united legions guide
The bolt of vengeance, that the Gress may shine
Once more upon the Hellespont, and prae'rs
Of Christian Sanctity again be baud
Within Istambol's domes. To raise thine arm
Between th' oppressor and oppresed, to bteak
The fetters of the captive, and declare
That the poor slave wh"o treads thy shores, is‘free,
Has always been thy high prerogative:
Hence thou art happy, and whilst Europe seems
One dismal dungeon, circled in with walls
Of steel. and watched by sleepless eentinels,
The natives of thy soil still feel the breath
Of Freedom fan their cheeks. Thou stand'st alone
With thy few warriors in the narrow par,
The world's Thennopyhe ; and whilst the one hand
Waves the red sabre of thy righteous cause,
The other profers to a sinfttl world
The Gospel, and lets fall the healing dews
Of charity upon the faster'd wounds
Of sufrring mortalag hence my bottom glows
With gratitude that I was born thy son ;
And these thy deeds of mercy *odor peace,
Shall more avail thee in the dreadful hear
Of peril, than that thine uneon d lads
Hate borne their thunders o'er die distant wave,
Where keel ne'er plough'tl before; or that a Yost
Of Eastern potentates, with bedded
Crouch at the footstool of thy pegs

7 lIE AMERICAN MoCIING BIRD.

The plumage of the American Mocking Bird, though
none of the homeliest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it,
and had he nothing else to recommend liim, would scarce
entitle him to notice, but hisfigure is well proportioned and
even handsome. The ease, elegance, and rapidity of his
movements, the animation of his eye, and the intelligence
he displays, in listening and laying up leasons from every
species of the feathered creedal& within his heeling, are
really surprising, and mark the peculiarity bf his genius.
To those qualities we may add that of a voice, full, strong
and musical, and cepable almost of every modulation, from
the clear mellow tones of the Wood Thrush, to the savage
scream of the Bald Eagle. In the measure and accents
he faithfully follows the originals ; in force and sweetness
of expression he greatly improves upon them. In his na-
tire groves, mounted on a bush or half grown tree, in
the dawn of every morning, while the woods are already
vocal with the multitude of warblers, his admirable song
rites pre-eminent over every other competitor. The car can
listen to Ins music alone, to which that of others seems a
mere accompaniment; neither is the strain altogether
imitative. His own native notes, which are easily distin-
guished by such as are well acquainted with those of the
various song birds, are hold and full, and varied seemingly
beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of
two, three, or at the most five and six syllables, generally
interspersed with imitations, and all of them uttered with
emphasis and rapidity, and continued with undimi-
nished ardour for half an hour at a time. His expanded
wings and tail glistening with white, and the buoyant gayety
of his action, arresting the eye as his song most irresistibly
does the ear ; he sweeps round with enthusiastic ecstacy,
he mounts and descends as his song swells, or dies away.
While thus exerting himself, a bystandct', destitute of
sight, would suppose the whole feathered tribe had as-
sembled together on a trial of skill, each striving to pro-
duce his utmost effect, so perfect are his imitations. Me
many times deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search
of birds that are, perhaps, not within miles of him, but
whose notes lie exactly imitates; even birds themselves are
frequently imposed on by this admirable mimic, and are
decoyed by the fancied calls of their mate, or (live with pre=
capitation into the depths of thickets at the scream of what
they suppose to be the sparrowhawk.
The mocking bird loses little of the power and energy
of his song by confinement. In hie domestic state, when
he commences his career of song, it is impossible to stand
by uninterested; he whistles for the dog, Cesar starts up,
wags his tail, and runs to meet his master ; he squeaks
out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with
hanging wings and bristled feathers clucking to protect her
injured brood. The barking of a dog, the mewing of a
cat, the creeking of a /taming wheelbarrow, follow with
great truth and rapidity. He repeats the tune taught him
[by his master, though of considerable length, fully and
faithfully. He runs over the quivering of the canary and
clear whistlings of the Virginia nightingale or red-bird
with such superior execution and effect, that the Mortified
songsters feel their own inferiority, and become altogether
silent, while he seems to triumph in their defeat, by re-
doubling his exertions. This excessive fondness for va-
riety, however, in the opinion of some, injures his song.
His elevated imitations of the brown thrush are frequently
interrupted by the crowing of cocks, and the warblings of
the blue-birds, which he exquisitely manages, are mingled
with the screaming of swallows, or cackling of bens ;
'amidst the simple melody of the robin, we are suddenly
surprised with the shrill reiterations of the whip-poor-will;
while the notes of the killdeere blue-jay, martin, and
twenty others, succeed with such Imposing reality that we
look round for the originals, and discover with astonish-
ment that the sole performer in this singular concert is the
admirable bird now before us. During this exhibition of
his powers he spreads his wings, expands hie tail, and
throws himself around the cage in all the ecstacy of enthu-
siasm, seeming not only to ring but to dance, keeping
time to the measure of his music. Both in his native and
I domesticated state, during the solemn stillness of the night,
as 110011 as the tnoon rises in solemn majesty, he begins his
delightful solo, and serenades us the live-long night with
a full display of his vocal powers, making the whole neigh-
bourhood ring with his imitative melody.--.lnacricea Pa-
per.
The average population of Ireland is 36,1 to the square
mile, while that of England and Wales is hut 210, and
of Scotland SG ; or, taking the whole island, less than 170.
Mail coaches will shortly be established on the roads
communicating between the principal cities in Ireland and
the great Atlantic packet station now forming at Valcntia.
We are also informed that a grand hotel, on a magnificent
[ scale, will be erected at that station for public accommoda-
tien.— Western Herald.