revered by men. From our long observ. ation of thine heart's integrity, and in full knowledge of thy faith and firm belief, thou art selected as the happy instrument of our return; but know, most worthy Signor, the idea of a white horse in clouds of air, is a mere fable invented by weak men. It will be fai otherwise, but be thou circumspect and secret, and to thee these things will be explained hereafter. Know, that by the element of water, by which we make this known, we shall return. Not far from Fort St. Juliana is a spot thou knowest well, a smooth declivity towards the sea; it is there we first shall touch the shore of our loved Portugal to-morrow's night at twelve. Be thou there alone, and softly gliding on the water's surface a small boat shall appear. Be silent and remain quiet on our appearance, for until we can join our prayers with thine thou must not speak; load not thyself with coin, for soon as dawn appears a troop of goodly horse from Cintra's Road will rise upon thy view. But be not destitute of wherewith to bear thine expense. All thy future life shall be thy prince's care. "SEBASTIAN." The trick succeeded; for the next day the doctor left Lisbon as privately as possible, while his trepanners who had watch ed him quickly followed, two in a boat hired for the purpose, and two on shore, to make a signal. The boat arrived at the appointed hour, and the doctor expected nothing less than the landing of the long expected and well-beloved Sebastian. It reached the shore, and by those who stepped out and their confederates concealed on the beach, the doctor was eased of some doubloons he had with him, received a cool dip in the water, and was left on the beach to bewail his folly. The story soon got wind, and now (in 1814) there are wags who, when they observe the doctor coming, affect to see something in the sky; this hint concerning Don Sebastian's appearance is usually intimated beyond the reach of the doctor's cane NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature ... 36 12. January 19. Feast of Lanthorns. This is a festival with the Chinese on the fifteenth day of the first month of their year. It is so called from the great number of lanthorns hung out of the houses, and in the streets; insomuch that it rather appears a season of madness, than of feasting. On this day are exposed lanthorns of all prices, whereof some are said to cost two thousand crowns. Some of their grandees retrench somewhat every day out of their table, their dress, their equipage, &c. to appear the more magnificent in lanthorns. They are adorned with gilding, sculpture, painting, japanning, &c. and as to their size, it is extravagant; some are from twenty-five to thirty feet diameter; they represent halls and chambers. Two or three such machines toge ther would make handsome houses. In lanthorns of these dimensions the Chinese are able to eat, lodge, receive visits, have balls, and act plays. The great multitude of smaller lanthorns usually consist of six faces or lights, each about four feet high, and one and a half broad, framed in wood finely gilt and adorned; over these are stretched a fine transparent silk, curiously painted with flowers, trees, and sometimes human figures. The colours are extremely bright; and when the torches are lighted, they appear highly beautiful and surprising. French Lark Shooting. To the gentleman whose letter from Abbeville, descriptive of "Wild fow. shooting in France," is on p. 1575 of vol. I., the editor is indebted for another on "Lark shooting," which is successfully practised there by a singular device unknown to sportsmen in this country." To his former letter J. J. H. are printed as his initials by mistake, instead of J. H. H. LARK SHOOTING IN FRANCE. Dear Sir, Partridge and quail shooting cease in this delightful part of the world about the middle of October, for by that time the partridges are so very wild and wary that there is no getting near them. The reason of this is, that our fields here are all open without either hedge or ditch, and when the corn and hemp are off, the stubble is pulled up so close by the poor people for fuel, that there is no cover for partridges; as to the quails, they are all either "killed off," or take their departure for a wilder climate; and then there is nothing left for the French gentry to amuse themselves with but lark-shooting. These birds are attracted to any given spot in great numbers by a singular contrivance, called a miroir. This is a small machine, made of a piece of mahogany, shaped like a chapeau bras, and highly polished; or else it is made of common wood, inlaid with small bits of looking glass, so as to reflect the suns rays upwards. It is fixed on the top of a thin iron rod, or upright spindle, dropped through an iron loop or ring attached to a piece of wood, to drive into the ground as here represented. By pulling a string fastened to the spindle, the miroir twirls, and the reflected light unaccountably attracts the larks, who hover over it, and become a mark for the sportsman. In this way I have had capital sport. A friend of mine actually shot six dozen before breakfast. While he sat on the ground he pulled the twirler himself, and his dogs fetched the birds as they dropped. However, I go on in the common way, and employ a boy to work the twirler. Ladies often partake in the amusement on a cold dry morning, not by shooting but by watching the sport. So many as ten or a dozen parties are sometimes out together, firing at a distance of about five hundred yards apart, and in this way the larks are constantly kept on the wing. The most favourable mornings are when there is a gentle light frost, with little or no wind, and a clear sky-for when there are clouds the larks will not approach. One would think the birds themselves enjoyed their destruction, for the fascination of the twirler is so strong, as to rob them of the usual "fruits of experience." After being fired at several times they return to the twirler, and form again into groupes above it. Some of them even fly down and settle on the ground, within a yard or two of the astonishing instrument, looking at it "this way and that way, and all ways together," as if nothing had happened. Larks in France fetch from three to four sous a piece. In winter, however, when they are plentiful, they are seldom eaten, because here they are always dressed with the trail, like snipes and woodcocks; but for this mode of cooking they are not fitted when the snow is on the ground, because they are then driven to eat turniptops, and other watery herbs, which communicate an unpleasant flavour to the trail. Were you here at the season, to eat larks in their perfection, and dressed as we dress them, I think your praise of the cooking would give me the laugh against you, if you ever afterwards ventured to declaim against the use of the gun, which, next to my pencil, is my greatest hobby. I send you a sketch of the sport, with the boy at the twirler-do what you like with it. I rather think I did not tell you in my last, that the decoy ducks, used in wildfowl shooting, are made of wood-any stump near at hand is hacked out any how for the body, while a small limb of any tree is thrust into the stump for the duck's neck, and one of the side branches left short makes his head. These ducks answer the purpose with their living prototypes, who fly by moonlight, and have not a perfect view, and don't stay for distinctions, like philosophers. It will not be long before I'm off for England, and then, &c. I am, &c. J. H. H. NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature ... 37 02. January 20. Fabian. In the church of England calendar. DEDICATION. The dedication of each day in the year, by the Romish church, in honour of a saint, which converts every day into a festival, is a fact pretty well known to the readers of the Every-Day Book. It is also generally known, that in certain almanacs every part of the human body is distributed among the days throughout the year, as subjects of diurnal influence; but it is not perhaps so well known, that See vol. i. p. 135. every joint of each finger on each han was appropriated to some saint. The proof of this is supplied by two very old orints, from engravings on wood, at the British Museum. They are among a colection of ancient wood cuts pasted in a folio volume. It would occupy too much room to give copies of these representations in fac-simile: the curiously inclined, who have access to the Museum printroom, may consult the originals; general readers may be satisfied with the following description: Right Hund. The top joint of the thumb is dedicated to GOD; the second joint to the Virgin; the top joint of the fore finger to Barnabas, the second joint to John, the third to Paul; the top joint of the second finger to Simeon Cleophas, the second Joint to Tathideo, the third to Joseph; the top joint of the third finger to Zaccheus, the second to Stephen, the third to Luke; the top joint of the little finger to Leatus, the second to Mark, the third joint to Nicodemus. Left Hand. The top joint of the thumb is dedicated o Christ, the second joint to the Virgin; the top joint of the fore finger to St. James, the second to St. John the evangelist, the third to St. Peter; the first joint of the second finger to St. Simon, the second joint to St. Matthew, the third to St. James the great; the top joint of the third finger to St. Jude, the second joint to St. Bartholomew, the third to St. Andrew; the top joint of the little finger to St. Matthias, the second joint to St. Thomas, the third joint to St. Philip. NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. January 21. In the church of England calendar." by walking, or other wholesome exercise, so as to procure a gentle glow over the entire surface of the body. Hasten to your chamber, undress yourself quickly, and jump into bed without suffering its temperature to be heightened by the See vol. i. p. 141. machine called a warming-pan. You: bed will be warmed by your own heat, and if you have not eaten a meat supper, or drank spirits, you will sleep well and warm all night. Calico sheets are adapted to this season-blankets perhaps are bet ter; but as they absorb perspiration they should be washed before they come into use with sheets in summer time. Extraordinary sleeper. Samuel Clinton, of Timbury, near Bath, a labouring man, about twenty-five years of age, had frequently slept, without intermission, for several weeks. On the 13th of May, 1694, he fell into a profound sleep, out of which he could by no means be roused by those about him; but after a month's time, he rose of himself, put on his clothes, and went about his business as usual. From that time to the 9th of April following he remained free from any extraordinary drowsiness, but then fell into another protracted sleep. His friends were prevailed on to try what remedies might effect, and accordingly he was bled, blistered, cupped, and scarified, but to no purpose. In this manner he lay till the 7th of August, when he awaked, and went into the fields, where he found people busy in getting in the harvest, and remembered that when he fell asleep they were sowing their oats and barley. From that time he remained well till the 17th of August, 1697, when he complained of a shivering, and, after some disorder of the stomach, the same day fell fast asleep again. Dr. Oliver went to see him; he was then in an agreeable warmth, but without the least sign of his being sensible; the doctor then held a phial of sal-ammoniac under his nose, and injected about half an ounce up one of his nostrils, but it only made his nose run and his eyelids shiver a little. The doctor then filled his nostrils with powder of white hellebore, but the man did not dis cover the least uneasiness. About ten days after, the apothecary took fourteen ounces of blood from his arm without his making the least motion during the operation. The latter end of September Dr. Oliver again visited him, and a gentleman present ran a large pin into his arm to the bone, but he gave not the least sign of feeling. In this manner he lay till the 19th of November, when his mother hearing him make a noise ran immediately to him, and asked him how he did, and what he would have to eat? to which he re The Hyde-park river-which no river is, In right of common, there to intertwine |