We feel a romantic regret that the genius of Johnson could not bestow an imperishability upon the spot; and preserve it from the casualties and decay of fire, and storm, and time.  Here the unfortunate Savage has held his intellectual “noctes” and enlivened the old moralist with his mad philosophy.  It was from this mansion that “the Bastard” roused the doctor on the memorable night (or morn) when they set out on one of those frolicsome perambulations, which genius, in its weakness and misgivings, sometimes indulges, and which was worthy of the days of modern Corinthianism.  We can imagine the sleepy, solemn face of Johnson, the meagre phiz of Savage, and the more rotund features of Boswell, around the board, and the doctor’s beloved tea-kettle singing its harmonious and solacing solo on the blazing “ingle.”  Inspecting more minutely the features of the visionary picture, we might behold the oracle of learning when about to deliver his opinion, perhaps, on the artificial fire of Gray, or the feeling and simplicity of Goldsmith:  his opening eyes and unclosing lips; the “harsh thunder” of his articulation, and the horrisonous stamp of his ample foot, impress us with the same reverence which was felt by his literary visitants.  It was here, doubtless, where the Herculean task of compiling his dictionary was achieved; the monotony of which was relieved by writing the periodical papers of his Guardian, and the more flowery composition of poetry and biography.  But he is gone, and though the mist of years may obscure his personal history, and vicissitudes annihilate his household memorials, yet his morality and piety, his unparalleled labour and patient endurance, but chief of all, his brilliant and versatile genius, will perish but with the annals of humanity.  His fame

  “From sire to son shall speed; from clime to clime,
  Outstripping death upon the wings of time!”

** H.

* * * * *

COMMON RIGHTS.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

As the columns of your mirror are a treasury of instruction, perhaps it may not be thought amiss, or unworthy its pages, to record the advances of science in the land we live in.  I have long since heard of our American brethren possessing the wonderful art of “launching” as the term is, their habitations; but I was not aware that my friends on this side the water had arrived at such a height on the hill of invention, until a few weeks back, when travelling in the western part of Dorsetshire, through the small village of Pulham, in that county; a neat, comfortable-looking cottage was pointed out for my observation, and which I was assured by many creditable persons, who had witnessed the performance, was, in the year 1826, chimneys, windows, and altogether, removed, without sustaining any injury, the distance of nearly two miles.  The power employed was that of ten horses.  The spot where it was intended originally to stand, was pointed out to me, being a piece of waste land called Lydlinch Common.  I inquired what motive could have induced the proprietor to coach it off in such a novel manner, and the following account I received “under the rose.”