Miscellaneous.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1109, 29 July 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

Miscellaneous.

One day, Shelley told me Lord Byron was coming next day to visit him. In vain I emplored mamma to let me be with them when the great poet came ; but she would not hear of it. I told Shelley this with tears in my eyes : and he said: ‘ Well, little woman, if mamma won’t let you be in the same room with the ogre; if you are very anxious to see him, look through the keyhole, and I will place him so that you shall have a full view of him.’ So, next day, Willie and I went on tiptoe to Shelley’s door, and peeped through the key hole. We were so facinated, alternately watching the great poet, that we remained there some time. At last Byron began to fidget, and said : ‘ I say Shelley, I don’t know how it is, but I feel as if some one was watchipg me.’ Shelley smilled; and pointing to the’door, told him what we were doing, and who we were, and also that mamma would not allow us to make his acquaintance. ‘I had no idea,’ said the poet, ‘ I bore such a very bad name. I should be very glad to know the young people, and their mother too, if she would permit it.’ He then got up and came towards the door; but we fled down the passage, whilst he and Shelley stood laughing. That was the first and last I saw of Byron; —“My aunt’s story.”— Chamber's Journal.

ROMEO AND JULIET. The origin of the story of Romeo and Juliet has been traced to the thirty-third novel of Massuccio di Salerno, written at Milan about four hundred years ago. Mariotto, a Sinese youth of good birth, is secretly married by a friar to Giannozza, a handsome young lady of the same city. Immediately afterwards, having killed a fellow-citizen in a street quarrel, he flies to Alexandra. Urged by her family to marry, Giannozza, at the instance of the friar aforesaid, sends herself into a trance by means of a powerful narcotic; and her friends, satisfied that she is dead, have her entombed with the usual rites. Mariotto returns to mourn over her remains, of course in disguise. Meanwhile, the ill-starred bride, resuscitated and released by the friar, sets out for Egypt to join her husband, though only to find that during her absence from Siena he has been recognised, seized, and executed. In the result she enters a convent in her native country, there to die of a broken heart.— All the Year Hound. A BLIND man’s DOG. ‘ Dot an’ I sets out; an’ wo goes all right from Somers Town, where 1 lives, across the Euston Road, down Gower-street, across New Oxford-street, down Endell-street as far as Long Acre. But when we come to the corner o’ Long Acre, Dot, instead o’ goin’ across the street, an’ so down Bow-street for Waterloo Bridge, turns sharp to the right, an’ Itigs me some yards up Long Acre afore I knew what she was up to. I tries to pull ’er back ; but she gets quite obstinate, an’ wont listen to a word I’ve got to say, but drags me on at a killin’ pace, all along Cranboume-street, right as far as Regent Circus, Piccadilly. ’Ere she ’ad to stop a minute because o’ the difficulty in crossin’, an’ I takes the hopportunity to speak to ’er quiet like : that is to say, as well as I could in the noise there always is about that part. She wouldn’t let me pull ’er in to talk to ’er proper an’ close, for she’s stronger nor me, an’ she kep’ the string quite taut. I

told ’er most solemly as I wanted to go to Kcnnin’ton; but she wouldn’t ’car of it. Now, what was I to do ? I knew by this time what she was up to. She was off to that brother o’ mine at Kensin’ton; an’ I, who ’ad vowed never to go near the place any more, was bein’ conveyed there entirely against my will! It was ’orrid! an’ the pace she went too; a ’Ammersmith ’bus in which I went once, is nothin’ to it I All along Piccadilly, all through Knightsbridge, was I dragged by that there Dot, an’ we never stops until she pulls up at the greengrocer’s shop where Bill —that’s my brother—lives. No sooner did we stop, than I ’eard a voice which cut me to the ’art. It was Nancy, my sister-in-law. who comes runnin’ out ’an flings ’erself on me, a-cryin’, “ 0 Tom, ’ow good o’ you to come. ’Ere’s Bill got’sleg broke, an’ took to ’orspital, an’ a man’s in possession o’ our room for the rent I”—“ Well, lam blessed,” sez I; “ ’ere’s a rum go. And what are you a-goin’ to do ?” —“ I don’t know,” sez she. “ Can’t you ’elp us ?”—Well, I turns the matter over in my mind presently, an’ I tells Dot to go ’ome. She went ’ome; an’ the nex’ day we goes right enough to Kcnnin’ton, an’ the day after to Kcnnin’ton once more, an* the man was paid out, an’ Nancy was free.’

the Marcus clarke memorial VOLUME.

From a perusal of the advance sheets with which we have been favored, we feel no hesitation in anticipating for this interesting and carefully-edited book ’ a sale worthy of the fame of the gifted writer, of whom, and of whose works it deals. The volume is dedicated to the public of Australia by the widow of the deceased author, and, as is announced in the title page, it contains a selection from the best of his shorter writings in prose and verse, together with a biography of him, and the unfinished fragment of the novel styled “ Felix and Felicitas,” on which he was engaged at the time of his premature and sudden death. A glance at the pages notifying the contents of the book, is sufficient guarantee that full justice to the brilliant and versatile powers of Marcus Clarke has been done by the compiler, who, by the way, points out, somewhat sarcastically, that those who prated so glibly about the indolence of Marcus Clarke, evidently knew little about him or his labors, adding, that in order to get most* of his good fugitive and miscellaneous writings into a book of some four hundred pages, entailed upon the compiler the distasteful task of omitting extracts that deserved a place in a Memorial Volume. . * .

The contents have been judiciously divided under various heads, in order that the versatility of Australia’s leading litterateur might the more easily be made apparent to the public. The idea is a good one, both as regards the memory of the author and the sale of the book, and it has been carried out with judgment.

The contents are thus specified:—Bush Sketches, consisting of the beautiful preface to Jordon’s poems, describing Australian scenery; a chapter from “ His Natural Life,” portraying the dire of a man lost in the Bush; a sketch of a Night in the Bush from Holiday Peak; a vivid picture of a Bush Fire supAed to the London Daily Telegraph : vziviij wimmera oisiricr, a mscory ot how learned “ Colonial Experience,” styled In a Bark Hut, and finally that perfect Bush Idyl, Pretty Under Melbourne Studies there are Austin Friars, a humorous sketch of his first Boheman days in Melbourne; A Pawnbroker’s Shop on Saturday Night, a subject in which he was, unfortunately for himself, too well versed; A Stroll in Collins Street, an ironical article on the doctors of Collins-street, and the “ doers” of the Block; The Hotels of Melbourne, a running commentary, full of point and fun, on the leading hostelries of the city, and The Ancient and Modern Squatter, a caustic character summing up, showing the superiority of the original pastoral pioneers. Among Pathetic and Imaginative we have that extravagant narrative—Canabis Indica—which is supposed to be the experience of the writer under the influenc of haschich, an opiate made from Indian hemp. The Haunted Author—a dream, during which the various characters of his novel, “ His Natural Life,” visit him in wrath, and depart with threats of annihilation ; A Watch at Christmas Eve—a pathetic sketch of a man mourning over the anniversary of the death of a wife he had s neglected; The Suicide—taken from “ His Natural Life”—a description highly praised for its power and pathos by London critics; About Gardens and Itowers—a quaintly imaginative and artistic dissertation on this subject. The Critical selections comprise able reviews of Modern Art and Dor6, French Literature and Balzac, and the Beaconsfield Novels, and that fanciful brochure once published in pamphlet form — “ The Future Australian Race.” In the Humorous and Satirical section we have well chosen selections from the comic journal Humbug, which he at one time edited, and from the well-known “Peripatetic Philosopher.” From the former, there are the following mirth-provoking pieces: — “ Our Glorious Climate;” A Merry Christmas; Diary of a Drunkard; On Borrowing Money; On Loafing Around; On Bazaars; On Teetotalism; On Business Men; On Friends, and On Relations. From the P. P.—New Chums, Modern

Boys, The Marriage Market, Democratic Snobbery, Sharebroking, Cabmen, The Theatre Gallery, Fitzroy Gardens at Night, or Billing and Cooing, The Theory of Gastric Juice, Holiday-Making, &c. Last, but not least, there are his Verses Grave and Gay—including several pathetic lyrics, such as— Ten Years Ago, Vanished Years, The Southerly Buster, Love Leave Me, Kiss These Lips, &c., and humorous ballads as—The Lay of the Loafer, The Wail ot the Waiter, The Vagabond’s Song, Love and Wine, A Caff* Duel, <fcc. After reading this record, no reader should, we fancy, grumble at the variety and choice of the matter supplied for his delectation. But, besides all this, there is the incomplete novel, Felix and Felicitas, which apart from its intrinsic merit, acknowledged by London has an interest for McL bournites as it is alleged to be a satire on a section of Melbourne society aping aastheticism. That the biography has been compiled and written by a friend and an admirer of the deceased author, is plainly discernible. Still we must admit that friendship and admiration have not been allowed to mar the truthfulness of the portrait presented to the public, who, while blaming the shortcomings of gifted Marcus Clarke, will doubtless pity his weaknesses and pay homage to his genius, saying with the biographer—“ After life’s fitful fever, he sleeps well.” Judging from the sample volume the book is to be tastefully bound, and will have on the outside the monogram M.C., <tc., so well known to Australian readers. On the fly-leaf, there will be an admirable photograph of the author, with his autograph attached. The paper to be used will be of the finest quality and richly toned, and the printing and make-up of the work reflects great credit on the publishers—Messrs. Cameron, Laing and Co. of Flinders Lane, Melbourne.