drink, and some kind of sweetmeat is given with it. She is next presented with a lamb, which is actually put into the carriage with her, and afterwards transferred to one of her attendants. At length, after much bustle and preparation, the court being previously cleared of all spectators, large coarse blanketting is fixed up, so as to prevent all possibility of her being seen, and then, wrapped in a sheet, she is carried by her brother, into the house. Here fresh forms and ceremonies await her. Being received into one of the most private rooms, a curtain is fixed up, so as entirely to cover one corner of it." Behind this the poor girl is placed, who, after the annoyance and fatigue she has undergone, is glad to rest as much as she is able in this nook of her cage.Decorated now in all her gayest attire, and glittering with gold and brocade, she is still not permitted to be seen, except by her mother and female friends, who busy themselves in arranging her clothes in proper order, and in adorning the room with a profusion of gay dresses, embroidered handkerchiefs, and towels, rich coverlids, and cushions of cotton, or Turkish silk. All these are distributed around the room; even the SHIFTS, being new for the occasion, are hung up with the rest, along the walls of the apartment, forming an extraordinary sort of tapestry.

"While this arrangement is taking place, the bridegroom, having parted with most of his guests, begins to prepare for a visit to his bride. Being now washed, shaven, and gaily drest, hé is allowed about midnight to see his wife for an hour, at the expiration of which, he is summoned to retire. Throughout the whole of the next day, she is destined to be fixed in a corner of the room, and to remain STANDING during the visits of as many strangers as curiosity may bring to see her. The men employ themselves in horseracing; and three or four articles of some value are given for the winners. The bridegroom makes a point of paying an early visit, to those whom he considers his friends, taking with him some little present of his wife's embroidery. Mrs. Holderness, page 32 to 38. h

The manner of solemnizing their marriages, is different from the manner of other countries. The man, though he never saw the woman before, is not permitted to have any sight of her all the time of his woing, which he doth not by himself, but by his mother, or some other ancient woman of his kinne, as well by the parents as by the parties themselves, for without the knowledge and consent of the parents, the contract is not lawful, the fathers on both sides, or such as are to them instead of fathers, with other chief friends, having a meeting and conference about the dowrie, which is commonly very large, after the abilitie of the parents; so that you shall have a market-man, as they call them, give a 1000 rubbles or more, with his daughter.

As for the man it is never required of him, nor standeth with their custome, to make any joynter in recompence of the dowrie. But in case he have a child by his wife, she enjoyeth a third deal after his deeease. If he have two children by her or more, she is to have a courtisie moré, at the discretion of the husband. If the husband depart without issue by his wife, she is returned home to her friends without any thing at all, save onely her dowrie, if the husband leave so much behind him in goods. When the agreement is made concerning the dowrie, they signe bonds one to the other, as well for the paiment of the dowrie, as the performing of the marriage by a certain day.

Thus the contract being made, the parties begin to send tokens the one to the other, the woman first, then afterwards the man, but yet see not one another ill the marriage be solemnized. On the eve before the marriage day the bride is carried in a collimago, or coach, or in a sledde, if it be winter, to the bridegroom's house, with her marriage-apparel and bedstead with her, which they are to lie in. For this is ever provided by the bride, and is commonly very fair, with much cost bestowed upon it.

When the time is come to have the marriage solemnized, the bride hath put upon het a kind of hood, made of fine knitwork, or lawn, that covereth her head

and all her body down to the middle; and so accompanied with her friends, and the bridegroom with his, they go to church all on horseback, though the church be near haud, and themselves but of very mean degree. The words of contract, and other ceremonies in solemnizing the marriage, are much after the order, and with the same words that are used with us, with a ring also given to the bride. Which being put on, and the words of contract pronounced, the bride's hand is delivered into the band of the bridegroom, which standeth all this while on the one side of the altar or table, and the bride on the other. So the marriage knot being knit by the priest, the bride cometh to the bridegroom, standing at the end of the altar or table, and falleth down at his feet, knocking her head upon his shoe, in token of her subjection and obedience. And the bridegroom again casteth the lap of his gown, or upper garment, over the bride, in token of his dutie to protect and cherish her.

'Then the bridegroom and bride standing both together at the table's end, cometh first the father, and the other friends of the bride, and bow themselves down to the bridegroom; and so likewise his friends bow themselves to the bride, in token of affinitie and love ever after, betwixt the two kindreds. And withall, the father of the bridegroom offereth to the priest a loaf of bread, who delivereth it straight again to the father, and other friends of the bride, with attestation before God and their idols, that he deliver the dowrie wholly and truly at the day appointed, and® hold love ever after, one kindred to another. Whereupon they break the loaf into pieces, and eat of it, to testifie their true and sincere meanings for performing of that charge, and thenceforth to become as grains of one loaf, or men of one table.

These ceremonies being ended, the bridegroom taketh the bride by the hand, and so they go on together with their friends after them, towards the church-porch, where meet them certain with pots and cups in their hands, with mead and RUSSE wine; whereof the bridegroom taketh first a chark or little cup full in his hand, and drinketh to the bride, who opening her hood or veil below, and putting the cup to her mouth underneath it (for being seen of the bridegroom) pledgeth him again. Thus returning altogether from the church, the bridegroom goeth not home to his own, but to his father's house, and she likewise to hers, where either entertain their friends apart. At the entering into the house, they use to fling corn out of the windows, upon the bridegroom and bride, in token of plentie and fruitfulnesse, to be with them for

When the evening is come, the bride is brought to the bridegroom's father's house, and there lodgeth that night, with her veil or cover stil! over her head.

What follows we think highly worthy of imitation; and we charge all our young friends of the more elegant sex to consider well of it when it pleases heaven to call them from a state of single blessedness. All that night she may not speak one word (for that charge she receiveth by tradition from her mother, and other matrons, her friends) that the bridegroom must neither heare, nor see her, till the day after the marriage. Neither three dayes after may she be heard to speak, save certain few words at the table, in a set form, with great manners, and reverence to the bridegroom. If she behave herself otherwise, it is a great prejudice to her credit and life, ever after; and will highly be disliked of the bridegroom himself. After the third day they depart to their own, and make a feast to both their friends together. The 'niarriage' day, and the whole tine of their festivall, the

bridegroom hath the honor to be called Moloday Knez, or, young duke, and the bride Moloday Knezay, or, young dutchesse

In living with their wives, they shew themselves to be but of a barbarous condition, using them as servants, rather than wives; except the noble-women, which are, or seem to be of more estimation with their husbands, than the rest of meaner sort. They have this foul abuse, contrary to good order and the word of God it self, that upon the dislike of his wife, or other cause whatsoever, the man may go into a monasterie, and shier himself a Frier, by pretence of devotion, and so leave his wife, to shift for herself so well as she can.'

Giles Fletcher, chap, XXIV. Pleased as we profess ourselves to be with Mrs. H., how shall we find fault?: "Yet," as Iago says, "we are nothing if not critical.' Fault we must find, but where shall it be? In her narration, her descriptions, her truth to natural coloring, her propriety of feeling, there is no fault; we must look then, to those few, very few passages, where she leaves her subject to write about nothing, as, for instance, about the emperor Alexander. Of course, every thing imperial is imposing, as the French say; but, alas! that is not a word of good havage in Devonshire.

In an empire so extensive as that of Russia, whatever be the efforts, whatever the wishes of him who governs, it is scarcely to be expected their influence, so powerfully felt at the centre, can extend, with equal force, to those distant provinces, which his smile seldom visits, his presence rarely cheers. Yet here, though depravity marks so many individuals, and they mar the endeavours which the Emperor is continually making for the universal benefit of his subjects, even here, he is beloved and respected, reverenced and obeyed.

8

"His visit to the Crimea was a subject of joyful expectation before it took place; and the mild and conciliating manners of this most powerful monarch, won the hearts of the humblest of his subjects: few there are who do not boast of having seen the emperor Alexander, and not a few who had the honor to converse with him. Divested of the parade of state, he travelled without any military escort, and won, or secured the confidence of his people, by that he evinced in them. Yet, to man is allotted no good without alloy; and the same sun which nourishes and brings to perfection the healthy and nutritious plants, draws up also the most noxious weeds. As, however, cultivation overpowers and destroys

their number, so the spreading of civilization, will lessen of the moral evils which now exist.'

many

Pass over, gentle reader, the dislocation of smiles visiting, and presence cheering. We have honestly and fairly given you the only page of "alloy," in the whole book; the rest is all "good." Shall we be a little sly upon the hold the emperor has on "the confidence of his people"? Turn back one leaf.

They have another proverb which will speak for them better than I can, it is this: nebo vicokie, ah gocydar dalokie; or, heaven is high, and the emperor is a long way off. Yet the portrait of his imperial majesty is set up in all their law offices, and all beads are uncovered with the greatest reverence to the picture, and an outward demeanour kept up, as though he were present to behold them; they however tenaciously remember "gocydar dalokie"!

This, gentle readers, you see is nature-smiles, presence, good, alloy, healthy plants, and noxious weeds, are all rhetoricorum, as Cicero has it.

Superstition and hospitality characterize all uncivilized countries; how far they are well exchanged for methodism, freethinking, and turnpike roads, we leave to the Edinburgh Review to settle; at any rate, the following anecdote will amuse our readers, more than the discussion of so profound á topic.

It is recorded, and believed by all denominations of the superstitious inhabitants of the Crimea, that this quality (hospitality) was the means of preserving a whole village from the dreadful visitation of the plague, during the years 1812, and 1813. The belief of the personification of evil, is rarely found, though we read of it in all the Eastern tales. The story is as follows:- near midnight a stranger knocked, and obtained admittance, at the cottage of one of these villagers; he begged for food and drink, both of which were freely given to him, and his stay for the remainder of the night pressed; but having refreshed himself, he got up to depart, and thanking them for their reception of him, assured them he would amply repay it. "I am" said he "THE PLAGUE, and during the scourge with which I am come to visit this country, your village shall remain unhurt, and untouched amidst surrounding devastation." The promise was fulfilled, and the village escaped the infection, which spread with horrid rapidity around.'

There are some excellent observations p. 124 to 130, upon the state of slavery, and the diffusion of christianity; but

it would not suit our proposed limits to enter upon subjects of such serious import; not from considering them in any way uncongenial or incompatable with our undertaking, but there is a time for all things, and it rests with our friends the public to say how various the topics shall be which we are to embrace, and (let us say it in humble phrase) how many, the sheets of letter-press shall be that they will deign to patronize.

R

Marino, Beau Sejour, Saunton.

The Braunton Despatch has just brought the following Note from the Printer.

"MR. SEARLE presents compliments to the LITTLE UNKNOWN, begs to say that if all the articles in L.. are as long-winded as the first, one is a dose only one page more, and that of light goods, is wanted for present number."

If the public should be as critical as the printer, we may as well shut up the Cave; and then, dear readers, what will become of those portfolios of prose, and reams of rhyme? not to mention your own irremediable losses-you will "sicken and so die," without an introduction to Sir Jason Pendragon, and his amiable family, who have promised a visit next month, and without being admitted behind the Cave, where many wonders await the initiated; believe me the Sibyl's Evenings at Home are as pretty bits of blue as any in Barnstaple and that's a bold word. But let us hope for better things; let us get on good-naturedly for one twelve month together, and I should not wonder if we were friends for life; at the present moment, however, the printer's humour jumps somewhat with our own, for our kind and considerate uncle the GREAT UNKNOWN, has sent us our usual Christmas Box, containing, among many other new publications, his own last-St. Ronan's Well, on which we beg to say a few words-the more that the Cockney small ware have been smart upon the work: kin and kind as the author may be to us, we disclaim all partiality where we write a Review; but there is something about him that always has seemed to us to disarm an enemy; he casts the glamour over us; here is this

VOL. I.