There is a curious specimen of ancient architecture at the sign of the Cock and Magpie public-house, facing Craven Buildings. Smith, in his London, says, "The late Mr. Thomas Batrich, barber, of Drury Lane, (who died in 1815, aged 85 years,) informed me that Theophilus Cibber was the author of many of the prize-fighting bills, and that he frequently attended and encouraged his favourites. It may be here observed, that Drury Lane had seldom less than seven fights on a Sunday morning, all going on at the same time on distinct spots." At present, the fights are between the apple-women and the dogberries, respecting the legal tenure of stalls:
"Bess Hoy first found it troublesome to bawl,
And therefore plac'd her cherries on a stall."
Drury Lane will always be interesting to the theatrical loiterer, from the number of stars that have irradiated from its horizon. If the wise Solon had lived in our times, he would no doubt have felt a local attachment to this neighbourhood; for he frequented plays even in the decline of life. And Plutarch informs us, he thought plays useful to polish the manners, and instil the principles of virtue.
SOLUTION OF THE ENIGMATICAL EPITAPH,
O! Superbe! Mors superte! Cur Superbis?
Deus supernos! negat superbis vitam supernam.
Proud man know this! then wherefore art thou proud?
This awful doom—terrific cries aloud—
Death lifts his arm! with unrelenting dart,
Ready to pierce thy lofty-tow'ring heart.
Why then persist? The Almighty hath denied
Eternal life to all the slaves of Pride!
THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS
THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT AND JUVENILE SOUVENIR FOR 1830
The association of the line—
In wit a man, simplicity a child—
is so happy as to be applicable to the Poet of all Nature. It expresses as much, if not more merit, than any single line often quoted, and its frequent repetition has probably induced us to consider the latter half—"simplicity a child"—as the peculiar talent of writing for young people, aimed at by many, yet accomplished by so few. What is it that so delights the young reader—we may say ourselves—in Robinson Crusoe3—the Shakspeare of the play-ground—but simplicity; and where, among the thousands of nursery books that have since been written, can we find its match? In childhood, youth, manhood, and old age, this is the great charm of life; and even the vitiated appetite is not unfrequently coaxed into amendment by its very delightful character when contrasted with coarser enjoyments. Metaphysicians deal out this fact to the world over and over again, and all the philosophy of Locke, Newton, and Bacon would be of little worth without it.
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