The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, Vol. 10, Issue 281 | Page 7

who are conversant in maritime affairs. Amongst others, is the custom, pretty well known, of whistling for a wind. A gentleman told me, that, on his first voyage, being then very young, and ignorant of sea usages, he was in the habit of walking the deck a great deal, "and whistling as he went," perhaps "for want of thought"--perhaps for lack of something better to do. Shortly, he fancied that the captain of the vessel seemed not a little annoyed whenever this took place, although he kept a respectful silence upon the subject. At length Mr. ---- resolved to speak to him himself: and, accordingly, one day, when it blew a pretty brisk gale, said, "I observe, captain, that you appear particularly uneasy whenever I whistle."--"To say the truth, sir, I am just now," replied he. "On a fair, still day, whistle as much as you please; but, when there is a wind like this, _we don't like to have any more called._"--_New London Literary Gaz._
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THE SELECTOR
AND
LITERARY NOTICES OF
_NEW WORKS._
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A PHILOSOPHICAL KITCHEN.
A romantic and ludicrous novel has just appeared, entitled "The Mummy, or Tale of the Twenty-second Century," exhibiting some of the probable results of "the march of intellect;" and of the pungency of its satire the following is a fair specimen, describing a kitchen in the twenty-second century:--
When Dr. Entwerfen left the breakfast-room of Lord Gustavus, which he did not do till a considerable time after the rest of the party had quitted it, he was so absorbed in meditation, that he did not know exactly which way he was going; and, happening unfortunately to turn to the right when he should have gone to the left, to his infinite surprise he found himself in the kitchen instead of his own study. Absent as the doctor was, however, his attention was soon roused by the scene before him. Being, like many of his learned brotherhood, somewhat of a gourmand, his indignation was violently excited by finding the cook comfortably asleep on a sofa on one side of the room, whilst the meat intended for dinner, a meal it was then the fashion to take about noon, was as comfortably resting itself from its toils on the other. The chemical substitute for fire, which ought to have cooked it, having gone out, and the cook's nap precluding all reasonable expectation of its re-illumination, the doctor's wrath was kindled, though the fire was not, and in a violent rage he seized the gentle Celestina's shoulder, and and shook her till she woke. "Where am I?" exclaimed she, opening her eyes. "Any where but where you ought to be," cried the doctor, in a fury. "Look, hussy! look at that fine joint of meat, lying quite cold and sodden in its own steam." "Dear me!" returned Celestina, yawning, "I am really quite unfortunate to-day! An unlucky accident has already occurred to a leg of mutton which was to have formed part of to-day's aliments, and now this piece of beef is also destroyed. I am afraid there will be nothing for dinner but some mucilaginous saccharine vegetables, and they, most probably, will be boiled to a viscous consistency." "And what excuse can you offer for all this?" exclaimed the doctor, his voice trembling with passion. "It was unavoidable;" replied Celestina, coolly; "whilst I was copying a cast from the Apollo Belvidere this morning, having unguardedly applied too much caloric to the vessel containing the leg of mutton, the aqueous fluid in which it was immersed evaporated, and the viand became completely calcinated. Whilst the other affair--" "Hush, hush!" interrupted the doctor; "I cannot bear to hear you mention it. Oh, surely Job himself never suffered such a trial of his patience! In fact, his troubles were scarcely worth mentioning, for he was never cursed with learned servants!" Saying this, the doctor retired, lamenting his hard fate in not having been born in those halcyon days when cooks drew nothing but their poultry; whilst the gentle Celestina's breast panted with indignation at his complaint. An opportunity soon offered for revenge; and seeing the doctor's steam valet ready to be carried to its master's chamber, she treacherously applied a double portion of caloric; in consequence of which, the machine burst whilst in the act of brushing the doctor's coat collar, and by discharging the whole of the scalding water contained in its cauldron upon him, reduced him to a melancholy state.
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ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.
Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, Since God was thy refuge, thy ransom, thy guide; He gave thee, he took thee and he will restore thee, And death has no sting since the Saviour has died.
The Amulet for 1828.
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