The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 400, November 21, 1829. Various

spending half a year in town,

      With cranium full of balls and plays,

      Routs, fêtes, and fashionable ways,

      Caus'd in her country-town, so quiet,

      Unus'd to modish din and riot,

      No small confusion and amaze,

      "Quite a sensation," is the phrase,

      Like that, which puss, or pug, may feel

      When rous'd from slumber by your heel,

      Or drowsy ass, at rider's knock,

      Or–should you term him block;

      Quoi qu'il en soit, first, gossips gape,

      Then envy, scandalize, and ape!

      Quoth Mrs. Thrifty: "Nancy, dear,

      My Lady sends out cards I hear,

      With, I suppose, 'tis now polite,

      Merely 'At Home,' on such a night,

      Now child, altho' I dare not say

      We can afford to be so gay,

      We're as well born as Lady G–

      And may be, as well bred as she!

      That is, quite in a sober way

      So as we've nothing more to pay:

      For instance, when folks choose to come,

      And I don't choose to be 'At Home,'

      I'll have a notice stuck, you know,

      On the hall door, to tell them so:

      'Twill save our Rachel's legs you see,

      And soon the top will copy me!

      But, Nancy, d'ye hear, now write

      That I'm 'At Home' on Thursday night;

      'Tis a good fashion, for 'tis what

      Most fashions in this age are not

      A saving one: ah, prithee think,

      How it saves time, and quills, and ink!"

      So, duteous Nancy seiz'd a pen,

      To ladies, and to gentlemen

      Sent quickly out the cards; as quick

      Came one again: "Poh! fiddlestick

      An answer, yes?—come, let me see,

      My spectacles!" cried Mistress T–

      "Hum—Mrs. Thrifty,—Thursday night—'At

      Home'—oh malice! fiendish spite,"

      (Quoth the good dame in furious ire,

      Whilst the card, fed the greedy fire)

      "No, never, never, will I strive

      To be genteel, as I'm alive,

      Beneath my own 'At Home' was cramm'd,

      There stay, good madam, and be d—d!"2

M.L.B.

      MAHOMET THE GREAT AND HIS MISTRESS

An Anecdote(For the Mirror.)

      After the taking of Constantinople by the Turks, in the year 1453, several captives, distinguished either for their rank or their beauty, were presented to the victorious Mahomet the Great. Irene, a most beautiful Greek lady, was one of those unfortunate captives. The emperor was so delighted with her person, that he dedicated himself wholly to her embraces, spending day and night in her company, and neglected his most pressing affairs. His officers, especially the Janissaries, were extremely exasperated at his conduct; and loudly exclaimed against their degenerate and effeminate prince, as they were then pleased to call him. Mustapha Bassa, who had been brought up with the emperor from a child, presuming upon his great interest, took an opportunity to lay before his sovereign the bad consequences which would inevitably ensue should he longer persevere in that unmanly and base course of life. Mahomet, provoked at the Bassa's insolence, told him that he deserved to die; but that he would pardon him in consideration of former services. He then commanded him to assemble all the principal officers and captains in the great hall of his palace the next day, to attend his royal pleasure. Mustapha did as he was directed; and the next day the sultan understanding that the Bassas and other officers awaited him, entered the hall, with the charming Greek, who was delicately dressed and adorned. Looking sternly around him, the Sultan demanded, which of them, possessing so fair an object, could be contented to relinquish it? Being dazzled with the Christian's beauty, they unanimously answered, that they highly commended his happy choice, and censured themselves for having found fault with so much worth. The emperor replied, that he would presently show them how much they had been deceived in him, for that no earthly pleasure should so far bereave him of his senses, or blind his understanding, as to make him forget his duty in the high calling wherein he was placed. So saying, he caught Irene by the hair of her head, which he instantly severed from her body with his scimitar.

G.W.N.

      Select Biography

      JUVENILE POETESS

MEMOIR OF LUCRETIA DAVIDSON,Who died at Plattsburgh, N.Y., August 27, 1825, aged sixteen years and eleven months

      [We hardly know how to give our readers an idea of the intense interest which this biographical sketch has excited in our mind; but we are persuaded they will thank us for adopting it in our columns. The details are somewhat abridged from No. LXXXII. of the Quarterly Review, (just published), where they appear in the first article, headed "Amir Khan, and other Poems: the remains of Lucretia Maria Davidson," &c., published at New York, in the present year. Prefixed to these "remains" is a biographical sketch, which forms the basis of the present memoir, and from the Poems are selected the few specimens with which it is illustrated.—ED.]

      Lucretia Maria Davidson was born September 27, 1808, at Plattsburgh, on Lake Champlain. She was the second daughter of Dr. Oliver Davidson, and Magaret his wife. Her parents were in straitened circumstances, and it was necessary, from an early age, that much of her time should be devoted to domestic employments: for these she had no inclination, but she performed them with that alacrity which always accompanies good will; and, when her work was done, retired to enjoy those intellectual and imaginative, pursuits in which her whole heart was engaged. This predilection for studious retirement she is said to have manifested at the early age of four years. Reports, and even recollections of this kind, are to be received, the one with some distrust, the other with some allowance; but when that allowance is made, the genius of this child still appears to have been as precocious as it was extraordinary. Instead of playing with her schoolmates, she generally got to some secluded place, with her little books, and with pen, ink, and paper; and the consumption which she made of paper was such as to excite the curiosity of her parents, from whom she kept secret the use to which she applied it. If any one came upon her retirement, she would conceal or hastily destroy what she was employed upon; and, instead of satisfying the inquiries of her father and mother, replied to them only by tears. The mother, at length, when searching for something in a dark and unfrequented closet, found a considerable number of little books, made of this writing-paper, and filled with rude drawings, and with strange and apparently illegible characters, which, however, were at once seen to be the child's work. Upon closer inspection, the characters were found to consist of the printed alphabet; some of the letters being formed backwards, some sideways, and there being no spaces between the words. These writings were deciphered, not without much difficulty; and it then appeared that they consisted of regular verses, generally in explanation of a rude drawing, sketched on the opposite page. When she found that her treasures had been discovered, she was greatly distressed, and could not be pacified till they were restored; and as soon as they were in her possession, she took the first opportunity of secretly burning them.

      These books having thus been destroyed, the earliest remaining specimen of her verse is an epitaph, composed in her ninth year, upon an unfledged robin, killed in the attempt at rearing it. When she was eleven years of age, her father took her to see the decorations of a room in which Washington's birthday was to

2

A fact.