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home-ly is now generally used in the sense of common,
ordinary, as when we speak of homely fare or homely
food; or it is applied to express our opinion of a per-
son's face, when we wish to say that it is rather ugly,
without using so ugly a word. Milton explains this
usage of the word in his Comus:-

"It is for homely features to keep home,
They had their name thence."

friend John Combe, of usurious memory; on whom | be often heard in the mouths of the rustics. The word he is said to have written a ludicrous epitaph. There are other monuments around, but the mind refuses to dwell on anything that is not connected with Shakspeare. His idea pervades the place: the whole pile seems but as his mausoleum. The feelings, no longer checked and thwarted by doubt, here indulge in perfect confidence; other traces of him may be false or dubious, but here is palpable evidence and absolute certainty. As I trod the sounding pavement, there was something The list of words in ly, which are used as adverbs, is intense and thrilling in the idea, that, in very truth, the rather numerous; very few of the class, we believe, are remains of Shakspeare were mouldering beneath my used both as adjectives and adverbs. We have, however, feet. It was a long time before I could prevail upon marked sick-ly as one instance of this double usage. myself to leave the place; and as I passed through the Many of these adverbs in ly are derived from secondary church-yard I plucked a branch from one of the yew-forms, and from that class of words in ing commonly trees, the only relic that I have brought from Stratford." called participles; thus we haveMr. Irving's paper continues in a very pretty description of his visit to the old family seat of the Lucys at Charlecot, whose park was the scene of the hair-The mention of the words play-ful-ly, deceit-ful-ly, leads brained exploits of which Shakspeare's boyhood has been accused. Our limits will not allow us to dwell longer us to speak of the termination ful (German, voll). on this subject, except to give the concluding paragraph of Mr. Irving's reflections on Stratford-on-Avon :

"He who has sought renown about the world, and has reaped a full harvest of worldly favour, will find, after all, that there is no love, no admiration, no applause, so sweet to the soul as that which springs up in his native place. It is there that he seeks to be gathered in peace and honour among his kindred and his early friends. And when the weary heart and failing head begin to warn him that the evening of life is drawing on, he turns as fondly as does the infant to the mother's arms, to sink to sleep in the bosom of the scene of his childhood. How would it have cheered the spirit of the youthful bard, when, wandering forth in disgrace upon a doubtful world, he cast back a heavy look upon his paternal home; could he have foreseen that, before many years, he should return to it covered with renown; that his name should become the boast and glory of his native place; that his ashes should be religiously guarded as its most precious treasure; and that its lessening spire, on which his eyes were fixed in tearful contemplation, should one day become the beacon, towering amidst the gentle landscape, to guide the literary pilgrim of every nation to his tomb!"

MEANINGS OF WORDS.-No. 6.

Words in ly (German, lich).

Play-ful-ly.
Know-ing-ly.

Play-ful
Aw-ful.

Deceit-ful-ly.
Will-ing-ly.

Joy-ful.
Cheer-ful.

Care-ful.
Wil-ful.

These words might perhaps be more properly called
compound words, because they are compounded or made
up of two distinct words. Play-ful is formed of play
and full: one of the 's in the compound word being
now generally dropped in writing. It may be well to
explain how the compound word health-ful differs from
the derived word health-y. The former is, as we have
remarked, made up of two distinct words, health and full,
both of which are still in common use: while health-y is
made up of the same word health and a termination y,
or suffix, as it is sometimes called, which may once
have been a real word, but it is so no longer; and we
can only form a kind of guess at its meaning, by com-
paring a number of words in which it occurs one with
another, and by observing what kind of ideas these
words are used to convey. Thus the word wil-ful ap-
pears to signify full of will; and when we speak of a
wilful murder, we mean the death of one man caused
by another with full will and intention. This is quite
intelligible; but this word wilful is often used very
vaguely and in various senses that we have tried to
understand, but hitherto without success.
Words in less (German, los).

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THESE words are sometimes adjectives, as in the follow-These words, also, ought perhaps to be classed under ing examples:

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Wise-ly. Third-ly. Truly.

First-ly. Last-ly. Sick-ly, (adjective and adverb). The word man-ly means like a man, and we believe that all such words were once written with the termination lic, or like, which means resemblance, or, in some cases, equality. As a proof of this position, we may observe, without quoting the authority of old printed books, that we still use several words in both forms: thus we have death-like, death-ly; god-like, god-ly; while in some instances we have retained the original termination like, without shortening it into ly, as in war-like. Custom has now assigned different meanings to such words as god-like and god-ly,—the former, a poetical kind of word, being used to signify resemblance to a god in actions, and the latter being applied to express the feeling of piety and devotion. In our older language a good-ly man signified a handsome personage, and in some parts of this island the original phrase of a good-like man may

the head of compounds, as the termination less is a real word in familiar use. Care-less, cheer-less, signify exactly the reverse of care-ful, cheer-ful, being used to express the absence or want of the thing signified by the noun prefixed. The word boot-less means without prey, booty, or profit; it has furnished occasion for one of Shakspeare's worst puns, if we can venture to say which is the worst of the innumerable samples which that fertile brain produced. Glendower (Henry IV. Part 1si, Act iii. 1) is telling Hotspur of his valorous exploits against Henry Bolingbroke, when he says——

"Thrice from the banks of Wye,

And sandy-bottomed Severn, have I sent him Bootless home, and weather-beaten back. Hotspur. Home without boots and in foul weather too! How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name?" The German word los is attached to many words like the English termination less, and appears to have exactly the same signification, as, for example, schlaf-los means sleep-less, and macht-los (might-less), without power or strength. Indeed the two terminations appear to be the same, both signifying to loose or take away: the German los is often prefixed to verbs, as well as put after nouns.

In our list of nouns we omitted to mention those in

rick and wick, which ought to have been classed with sellers to prepare a new Dictionary of the English Lannouns in dom. Their number is not large.

Nouns in ric and wick, such as—

Bishop-ric.

Baili-wick.

THE WEEK.

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guage. This celebrated work occupied the greater part of his time for seven years, and at last appeared in 1755, after the money, 1500 guineas, which it had been agreed he should receive for his labour, was all spent. Ric, the same as the German reich, means possession, It brought him, however, a large share of public ap wealth, dominion. The Germans call France, Frank-plause, and at once placed his name among the first of reich, the kingdom or dominion of the Franks. The the living cultivators of English literature. Meanwhile, old Saxon word for kingdom is rice, which frequently even before the appearance of his Dictionary, he had by occurs in the Anglo-Saxon laws. Bailiwick is, pro- various occasional productions been steadily advancing perly, the space over which the jurisdiction of a bailiff himself in reputation, although not in wealth. In 1749 extends. We do not mean to say the jurisdiction of a he gave to the world his imitation of Juvenal's tenth bailiff as known in ordinary practice, but according to Satire, under the title of The Vanity of Human the more creditable and proper import of the word, Wishes.' The same year his tragedy of Irene, which he which means a deputy or agent who manages the affairs had brought with him when he first came to town, was of a superior, or a superintendent. produced at Drury Lane by his friend Garrick. In March, 1750, he commenced the publication of The Rambler,' which he continued for two years at the rate of two papers every week, the whole, with the exception of SEPTEMBER 7.-The birth-day of Dr. Samuel Johnson. only five numbers, being the production of his own pen. He was born in 1709, in the city of Litchfield, where These and other works, however, failed in relieving him his father was a bookseller. Having received the from the pressure of great pecuniary difficulties, as is elements of a classical education principally at the gram- proved by the fact, that in 1756 he was arrested for a mar school of his native place, he was sent at the age debt of about five pounds, and only obtained his liberty of nineteen to Pembroke College, Oxford, by a gen- by borrowing the money from a friend. In 1758 he tleman who engaged to maintain him there as a com- began a new periodical publication, to which he gave panion to his son. After some time, however, this per- the name of 'The Idler,' and which, like the Rambler,' son withdrew his aid; and Johnson, having made an he carried on for about two years. In 1759 his mother, ineffectual attempt to subsist on his own resources, to whom he was tenderly attached, died at an advanced found himself obliged to discontinue his residence before age; and having gone down to Litchfield to superinobtaining a degree. He had already, however, during tend her funeral, he there wrote his beautiful romance of the period he spent at the university, obtained a high Rasselas in a single week, while his parent lay unburied, reputation for scholarship and abilities. For many in order to obtain the means of defraying the expenses succeeding years the life of this distinguished lumi- of her interment. This may well be characterised as nary of English literature was one of those hard strug- the finest anecdote that is to be told of Dr. Johnson; gles with poverty which learning and genius have so for the whole range of biography scarcely records anyoften been called on to sustain. About the time that thing more noble or affecting. At last, in 1762, the he left college, namely, in 1731, his father died, leaving Crown was advised to bestow upon him a pension of scarcely twenty pounds behind him. Thus situated, 300l. per annum; an act of bounty which placed him Johnson was constrained to accept the office of usher at for the rest of his life in ease and affluence. After this the grammar-school of Market Bosworth. But the he distinguished himself as much by the brilliancy treatment to which he was subjected soon forced him to and power of his conversation in the literary circles give up this appointment. He now attempted in suc- and general society which he frequented, as by his cession various projects of a literary nature, in order to labours with his pen; but still he was far from reescape from the extremest indigence. In 1735 he linquishing authorship. In 1765 appeared a new edimarried a Mrs. Porter, the widow of a mercer, who tion of Shakspeare, in the superintendence of which he brought him a fortune of about 8001.; and with this had been long engaged, and the splendid preface to money he opened a boarding-school at Edial. But the which is one of the most celebrated of his productions. scheme met with no success. He then determined to In 1773 he published the well-known account of his set out for London; and here accordingly he arrived in Journey to the Western Isles of Scotland, which he March, 1737, accompanied by a young friend, who had had just accomplished in company with his friend been one of his pupils, David Garrick, who afterwards Boswell. In 1775 he received the degree of LL.D. became the greatest actor that the modern world had from the University of Oxford; and in 1781 he brought seen. The first employment which he obtained was to a close the last, and perhaps, upon the whole, the from the proprietors of the Gentleman's Magazine. greatest of his works, his Lives of the Poets,' in four But the emoluments he derived from this source were volumes octavo. He survived this publication only a very insufficient to afford him a respectable subsistence; few years, and, having died on the 13th of December, and he was often without a shilling to procure him 1784, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, he was inbread during the day, or a lodging wherein to lay his terred with great solemnity in Westminster Abbey, in a head at night. These difficulties clung to him for a grave near to that of his friend Garrick. Notwithstandlong while, but they did not prevent him from gradually ing considerable heat of temper and arrogance of manworking his way to literary distinction. His reports ner, as well as some weak prejudices and singularities of parliamentary debates, inserted in the Gentleman's by which he was marked, it is impossible to deny that Magazine, which were often almost entirely original the moral character of Dr. Johnson abounded in noble compositions of his own, attracted a great deal of no- points, or to regard it upon the whole with other feelings tice; but it was not till long afterwards that their than those of admiration and reverence. A scrupulous authorship was generally known. The year after his respect for virtue, evinced both by the language and arrival in the metropolis, he published his poem, entitled scope of all his writings and by the unvarying tenor of 'Loudon,' in imitation of the third Satire of Juvenal. his conduct, a lofty scorn of injustice and baseness, a This production had the honour of being commended in spirit of independence and self-reliance which no trials very warm terms by Pope. In 1744 appeared his elo- and sufferings could tame down either to despair or quent and striking life of his friend Savage. Three servility, a warm sympathy with human sorrow whereyears after he was engaged by an association of book-soever found or howsoever caused, the intrepidity to do a good action in the face even of the world's laugh, and

* See Lambard's Anglo-Saxon laws.

he followed the engines to a fire at Greenwich, and remained
there until the last of the engines had packed up its appara-
tus to depart. On another occasion (the fire at Mr. Tyler's
premises, in Warwick Lane) he remained with the men
sixteen days, during which they were employed in rescuing
property from the smouldering ruins. He is perfectly well
known to every fireman in London. He is called Tyke,'
and is exceedingly ugly in his appearance, being one of the
worst formed specimens of the turnspit breed."
Division of Time used by the Inhabitants of the Feroe
Islands. They have one method of dividing time peculiar
to themselves: they reckon the day and night by eight
ökter of three hours each; the ökters again are reduced into
halves, and they are named according to the point of the
compass where the sun is at the time: for example, East-
North-East is half past four in the morning; East is six;
East-South-East, half past seven.-Landt's Description.

charity in relieving the unfortunate to the utmost verge | fires that he entertains so strong a regard. On one occasion of his means, and even to his own painful inconvenience, -all these dispositions, based on religious principle, and adorned and crowned by the most fervid piety, are sufficient to cast into the shade far deeper traits of frailty than any with which his nature can fairly be said to have been marked. The question of the intellectual rank properly belonging to Dr. Johnson has given rise to more difference of opinion. He was certainly neither a very original nor a very subtle thinker; and his eminence, indeed, will probably be maintained even by his warmest admirers on the ground rather of his powers of expression than of thought. His poetry rarely ascends beyond the height of rhetoric in rhyme; and his metaphysical and philosophical speculations are throughout extremely common-place and unrefined. But in what may be called the art of criticism, the detection of conventional beauties and defects, and the delineation of the merely literary character of a writer's productions, he is a great master. His style is undoubtedly a bad one in the main; for, to say nothing of its being more Latin than English, and so studiously regulated on the principle of mere sonorousness that it almost entirely wants picturesqueness and the other higher qualities which contribute to effective expression, it is suited at the best to only one kind of writing, the grave didactic. Still, with all its faults, even this style has great qualities. Its dignity is often very imposing, and its inventor is certainly entitled to the praise of having set the example of a grammatical accuracy and general finish of composition not to be found in the works of our best authors before his time, but which have since been copied by all.

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THE HOLLY TREE.

O READER! hast thou ever stood to see
The holly tree?

The

eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves
Order'd by an intelligence so wise,

As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.
Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen
Wrinkled and keen;

No grazing cattle through their prickly round
Can reach to wound;

But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.

I love to view these things with curious eyes,

And moralize:

And in this wisdom of the holly tree

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Can emblems see

Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant-rhymne,
One which may profit in the after-time.

Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear
Harsh and austere,

To those who on my leisure would intrude

Reserved and rude,

Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be,

Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.

And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know,
Some harshness show,

All vain asperities I day by day

Would wear away,

Till the smooth temper of my age should be
Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.

And as when all the summer trees are seen
So bright and green,

The holly leaves their fadeless hues display
Less bright than they;

But when the bare and wintry woods we see,
What then so cheerful as the holly tree?

So serious should my youth appear among
The thoughtless throng,

So would I seem amid the young and gay

More grave than they,

That in my age as cheerful I might be
As the green winter of the holly tree.

SOUTHEY.

[Johnson.]

The Firemen's Dog.-A gentleman connected with one of the principal London fire-insurance offices has sent us the following account of the dog whose singular propensities we described in Number 23. Our correspondent has been induced to make particular inquiries in consequence of our notice:-"His home, if it can be called so, is in one of the recesses of Blackfriars Bridge; and it is supposed he has acquired his taste for blazes in consequence of being noticed by the firemen who so frequently pass over that bridge. It has been remarked that he invariably follows close upon the heels of every fireman he sees until driven away. This induces me to believe that it is for the men and not for the

The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln's-Inn Fields.

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THE building which we now call Whitehall is only a single pavilion of the ancient palace of that name, which was for several reigns the principal seat of the English court. Old Whitehall was of vast extent, not only occupying the whole of the ground between the street now called Whitehall, and the river, very nearly from Northumberland House to Westminster Bridge, but even extending across the street to the verge of St. James's Park. Immediately to the south of this space was the more limited precinct of the older palace of Westminster, comprehending the present Houses of Lords and Commons, and Old and New Palace Yards, by which they are surrounded. St. James's Park and the Palace of that name, again, joined Whitehall on the west, and the park, indeed, used to be considered as belonging to the one palace as much as to the other. This was the case from the time of Henry VIII. till some years after the Revolution. The old Palace of Westminster was entirely deserted by the court; that of St. James's was only occasionally resorted to; and the actual residence of the monarch was for the most part at Whitehall, which was accordingly designated in the royal acts by the expression of "our palace of Westminster." In continuance of the ancient usage, commissions and other papers proceeding from certain of the public offices are still dated at Whitehall. VOL. I.

Mr. Brayley, in the second volume of his amusing work entitled Londiniana,' has a very long and elaborate article on Whitehall, which may be advantageously consulted for a full history of the place, and for accounts of many of the most interesting events of which it has been the scene. The site belonged in ancient times to the Abbey of Westminster, by which establishment it was sold in the beginning of the thirteenth century, when it appears to have been covered by a number of houses and a chapel, to Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent, and Chief Justice of England. De Burgh erected a noble mansion on the ground which he had thus purchased; and on his death, in 1242, left the property to the monastery of the Black Friars in Holborn. These monks soon after sold it to Walter Gray, Archbishop of York, who, dying in 1255, left it as a town residence for his successors in the see. It served this purpose, and was thence called York Place, till the fall of Cardinal Wolsey in 1530, when, notwithstanding the protestations of the disgraced favourite against being compelled to surrender the patrimony of his see, it was seized by the crown with all the rest of his richest possessions. Henry compelled his victim to execute a full resignation of the property into his hands. The acquisition, indeed, was a particularly convenient one for the crown at the moment, inas

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much as the old palace of Westminster had fallen into complete decay, and the court was without an appropriate seat in the quarter where it had from the most ancient times been held. Henry, therefore, as soon as he had got the place into his possession, proceeded to make large additions to the building. In particular he threw a gallery across the street to the new park of St. James's, which he was forming about the same time from the grounds of the dissolved monastery of that name, and erected on that side of the way, a cock-pit, tennis-court, and other similar adjuncts to his intended palace. Henry resided principally at Whitehall during the remainder of his reign, and died here on the 28th of January, 1548. It cannot be ascertained with certainty when the place first received the name of Whitehall. It would

rather appear that a part of the buildings was so designated in the time of Wolsey; but the appellation did not become the usual one till the reign of Elizabeth. It was here this great princess kept her splendid court. Here, also, her successor, James, took up his abode. This sovereign intended to rebuild Whitehall on a scale of extraordinary magnificence; and designs for the new palace were prepared by Inigo Jones, which have been frequently engraved. But of the intended structure no part was ever erected, except what was called the Banquetting-house. This is the building that still remains, the more ancient part having been long since swept away. We subjoin the ground-plan of Inigo Jones's splendid design, as published by Campbell in his Vitruvius Britannicus.'

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The Banquetting-house at Whitehall, the front of which has been lately restored, deserves to be considered not only as one of the most successful works of Inigo Jones, but as one of the finest public buildings in the metropolis. It presents a very happy combination of majesty and elegance; and the ornamental parts of it are at once rich and classic. This building has also other attractions besides its architecture, for the artist and the man of taste. The roof of the chapel is painted by Rubens. The picture is an allegorical one, and represents, in a succession of compartments, a sort of history of the reign of James I. Rubens executed this performance when he was in England in 1629, and received as a reward from Charles I. the sum of 3000l., besides the honour of knighthood. It has since been restored by Cipriani. At the back of the building stands a statue of James II., executed by Grinlin Gibbons, the artist whose admirable carvings in wood adorn the choirs of St. Paul's, and of several of our other cathedrals. The statue is of bronze, and the figure, which is dressed in the habit of a Roman emperor, points with a baton in the right hand to the earth

It was in this palace, although not in any part of it which is now standing, that the magnificent Wolsey, Archbishop, Cardinal, Legate, and Lord High Chancellor, lived for several years in a show of state which might almost be said to rival that of royalty, and certainly exceeded anything that had ever before or has ever since been displayed by a subject in England. "His house was also," says Cavendish, the writer of his Life," always resorted and furnished with noblemen, gentlemen, and other persons, with going and coming in and out, feasting and banquetting all ambassadors divers times, and other strangers right nobly. And when it pleased the King's Majesty, for his recreation, to repair into the Cardinal's house, as he did divers times in the year, there wanted no preparations, or goodly furniture, with viands of the finest sort that could be provided for money or friendship. Such pleasures were there devised for the King's comfort and consolation, as might be invented, or by man's wit imagined. The banquets were set forth, with masques and mummeries, in so gorgeous a sort, and costly manner, that it was a heaven to be

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