fatt, after noticing the earlier abbots of Malmsbury, adds, "The ideas contained in the following lines were suggested by the perusal of the history of the foundation of Malmsbury abbey: "Sonnet to the Avon. "Reclined beside the willow shaded stream, On which the breath of whispering zephyr plays, What tho' no myrtle bower thy banks adorn, This interesting period in the history of the venerable abbey, its supposed connection with Bradenstoke Priory, the admired scenery of the surrounding country, the events of past ages blended into the exertions of a fertile imagination, and the many traditions still floating in the minds of the inhabitants, would form materials deserving the attention of a writer disposed to wield his pen in that department of literature, which has been so successfully cultivated in the northern and other parts of our island. If by the observation," that his ancestors came from the Priory," your correspondent means Bradenstoke Priory, he will allow me to direct his attention to the fact of the original register of that establishment being in the British Museum. I Lefer him to the "Beauties of England and Wales." As your correspondent probably resides in London, he may be induced to obtain access to this document, in which I conclude he would have no difficulty; and if you, Mr. Editor, could favour us in your publication with an engraving of this Priory, it would be acceptable. your I appreciate the manner in which correspondent noticed my remarks, and wish him success in his literary efforts, whether relating to objects in this vicinity, or to other matters. One remark only I will add, that I think he should avoid the naming of respectable individuals; the mention of names may cause unpleasant feelings in a neighbourhood like this, however unintentional on his part. I should have considered it better taste in an antiquarian to have named the person in pos OLD BIRMINGHAM CONJURERS. BY MR. WILLIAM HUTTON. No head is a vacuum. Some, like a paltry cottage, are ill accommodated, dark, and circumscribed; others are capacious as Westminster-hall. Though none are immense, yet they are capable of immense furniture. The more room is taken up by knowledge, the less remains for credulity. The more a man is acquainted with things, the more willing to "give up the ghost.' Every town and village, within my knowledge, has been pestered with spirits, which appear in horrid forms to the ima gination in the winter night-but the spirits which haunt Birmingham, are those of industry and luxury. If we examine the whole parish, we cannot produce one old "witch;" but we have numbers of young, who exercise a powerful influence over us. Should the ladies accuse the harsh epithet, they will please to consider, I allow them, what of all things they most wish for, power-therefore the balance is in my favour. If we pass through the planetary worlds, we shall be able to muster two conjurers, who endeavoured to "shine with the stars." The first, John Walton, who was so busy in casting the nativity of others, that he Conscious of an applicaforgot his own. tion to himself, for the discovery of stolen * I am somewhat embarrassed by this difference between two valued correspondents, and I hope neither will regard me in an ill light, if I venture to interpose, and deprecate controversy beyond an extent which can interest the readers of the Table Book. I do not say that it has passed that limit, and hitherto all has been well; perhaps, however, it would be advisable that "A Reader" should confide to me his name, and that` he and my "Old Correspondent," whom I know, should allow me to introduce them to each other. I think the result would be mutually satisfactory. W. H. goods, he employed his people to steal them. And though, for many years confined to his bed by infirmity, he could conjure away the property of others, and, for a reward, conjure it back again. The prevalence of this evil, induced the legislature, in 1725, to make the reception of stolen goods capital. The first sacrifice to this law was the noted Jonathan Wild. The officers of justice, in 1732, pulled Walton out of his bed, in an obscure cottage, one furlong from the town, now Brickilnlane, carried him to prison, and from thence to the gallows-they had better have carried him to the workhouse, and his followers to the anvil. To him succeeded Francis Kimberley, the only reasoning animal, who resided at No. 60, in Dale-end, from his early youth to extreme age. A hermit in a crowd! The windows of his house were strangers to light. The shutters forgot to open; the chimney to smoke. His cellar, though amply furnished, never knew moisture. He spent threescore years in filling six rooms with such trumpery as was just too good to be thrown away, and too bad to be kept. His life was as inoffensive as long. Instead of stealing the goods which other people used, he purchased what he could not use himself. He was not difficult in his choice of the property that entered his house; if there was bulk, he was satisfied. His dark house, and his dark figure, corresponded with each other. The apart ments, choked up with lumber, scarcely admitted his body, though of the skeleton order. Perhaps leanness is an appendage to the science, for I never knew a corpulent conjurer. His diet, regular, plain, and slender, showed at how little expense life might be sustained. His library consisted of several thousand volumes, not one of which, I believe, he ever read; having written, in characters unknown to all but himself, his name, the price, and the date, in the title-page, he laid them by for ever. The highest pitch of his erudition was the annual almanack. He never wished to approach a woman, or be approached by one. Should the rest of men, for half a century, pay no more attention to the fair, some angelic hand might stick up a note like the arctic circle over one of our continents, "this world to be let." If he did not cultivate the acquaintance of the human species, the spiders, more numerous than his books, enjoyed an uninterrupted reign of quiet. The silence of the place was not broken; the broom, the book, the dust, or the web, was not disturbed. Mercury and his shirt performed their revolutions together; and Saturn changed his with his coat. He died in 1756, as conjurers usually die, unla mented.* PATIENCE. For the Table Book. As the pent water of a mill-dam lies Or as the fountain stone that doth not wear, That sits beside her husband and her love Off'ring him consolation as a dove,Her sighs and tears, her heartache and her mind Devout, untired, calm, precious, and resign'd. *, P. British Portraits. CATALOGUE OF PAINTED BRITISH PORTRAITS, comprising most of the Sovereigns of England, from Henry I. to George IV., and many distinguished personages; principally the productions of Holbein, Zucchero, C. Jansen, Vandyck, Hudson, Reynolds, Northcote, &c. Now selling at the prices affixed, by HORATIO RODD, 17, Airstreet, Piccadilly. 1827. This is an age of book and print catalogues; and lo! we have a picture dealer's catalogue of portraits, painted in oil, from the price of two guineas to sixty. There is only one of so high value as the latter sum, and this is perhaps the most interesting in Mr. Rodd's collection, and he bas allowed the present engraving from it. The picture is in size thirty inches by twentyfive. The subjoined particulars are from the catalogue. * Hist. of Birmingham. 6 Simon Lord Lobat. FROM THE ORIGINAL PICTURE BY HOGARTH, LATELY DISCOVERED. "To the present time, none of Hogarth's biographers appear to have been aware of the local habitation' of the original painting from which the artist published his etching, the popularity of which, at the period to which it alludes, was so great, that a printseller offered for it its weight in gold: that offer the artist rejected; and he is said to have received from its sale, for many weeks, at the rate of twelve pounds each day. The impressions could not be taken off so fast as they were wanted, though the rolling-press was at work all night by the week together. 6 "Hogarth said himself, that lord Lovat's portrait was taken at the White Hart-inn, at St. Alban's, in the attitude of relating on his fingers the numbers of the rebel forces : Such a general had so many men, &c. ;' and remarked that the muscles of Lovat's neck appeared of unusual strength, more so than he had ever seen. Samuel Ireland, in his Graphic Illustrations of Hogarth, vol. i. p. 146, states that Hogarth was invited to St. Alban's for the express purpose of being introduced to Lovat, who was then resting at the White Hart-inn, on his way. to London from Scotland, by Dr. Webster, a physician residing at St. Alban's, and well known to Boswell, Johnson, and other eminent literary characters of that period. Hogarth had never seen Lovat before, and was, through the doctor's introduction, received with much cordiality, even to the kiss fraternal, which was then certainly not very pleasant, as his lordship, being under the barber's hands, left in the salute much of the lather on the artist's face. Lord Lovat rested two or three days at St. Alban's, and was under the immediate care of Dr. Webster, who thought his patient's illness was feigned with his usual cunning, or if at all real, arose principally from his apprehension of danger on reaching London. The short stay of Lovat at St. Alban's allowed the artist but scanty opportunity of providing the materials for a complete picture; hence some carpenter was employed on the instant to glue together some deal board, and plane down one side, which is evident from the back being in the usual rough state in which the plank leaves the saw-pit. The painting, from the thinness of the priming-ground, bears evident proof of the haste with which the portrait was accomplished. The course lineament of features so strongly exhibited in his countenance, is admirably hit off; so well has Duncombe expressed it, 'Lovat's hard features Hogarth might command;" for his pencil was peculiarly adapted to such representation. It is observable the button-holes of the coat, &c., are reversed in the artist's etching, which was professed to be drawn from the life, &c.;' and in the upper corner of the picture are satirical heraldic insignia, allusive to the artist's idea of his future destiny." The "satirical heraldic insignia," men. tioned in the above description, and represented in the present engraving, do not appear in Hogarth's well-known whole length etching of lord Lovat. The picture is a half-length; it was found in the house of a poor person at Verulam, in the neighbourhood of St. Alban's, where Hogarth painted it eighty years ago, and it is a singular fact, that till its discovery a few weeks ago, such a picture was not known to have been executed. In all probability, Hogarth obliged his friend, Dr. Webster, with it, and after the doctor's death it passed to some heedless individual, and remained in obscurity from that time to the present. Further observation on it is needless; for persons who are interested concerning the individual whom Hogarth has portrayed, or who are anxious respecting the works of that distinguished artist, have an opportu nity of seeing it at Mr. Rodd's until it is sold. at As regards the other portraits in oil, collected by Mr. Rodd, and now offered by him for sale, after the manner of booksellers, " at the prices annexed," they can be judged of with like facility. Like booksellers, who tempt the owners of empty shelves, with "long sets to fill up small prices, Mr. R." acquaints the nobility and gentry, having spacious country mansions, that he has many portraits of considerable interest as specimens of art, but of whom the picture is intended to represent, matter of doubt: as such pictures would enliven many of their large rooms, and particularly the halls, they may be had at very low prices." 66 Mr. Rodd's ascertained pictures_really form a highly interesting collection of painted British Portraits," from whence collectors may select what they please: his mode of announcing such productions, by way of catalogue, seems well adapted to bring buyers and sellers together, and is noticed here as an instance of spirited departure from the ancient trading rule, viz. Twiddle your thumbs Till a customer comes. DEATH'S DOINGS. "I am now worth one hundred thousand pounds," said old Gregory, as he ascended a hill, which commanded a full prospect of an estate he had just purchased; "I am now worth one hundred thousand pounds, and here," said he, "I'll plant an orchard: and on that spot I'll have a pinery "Yon farm houses shall come down," said old Gregory," they interrupt my view." "Then, what will become of the far-, mers?" asked the steward, who attended him. "That's their business," answered old Gregory. "And that mill must not stand upon the stream," said old Gregory. "Then, how will the villagers grind their corn?" asked the steward. "That's not my business," answered old Gregory. There is an account of lord Lovat in the Every hearty supper-drank a bottle of port➡ So old Gregory returned home-ate a Day Book. smoked two pipes of tobacco-and fell into a profound slumber-and awoke no more; and the farmers reside on their lands-and the mill stands upon the stream-and the villagers rejoice that Death did "business" with old Gregory. THE BARBER. For the Table Book. Barbers are distinguished by peculiarities appertaining to no other class of men. They have a caste, and are a race of themselves. The members of this ancient and gentle profession-foul befall the libeller who shall designate it a trade-are mild, peaceable, cheerful, polite, and communicative. They mingle with no cabal, have no interest in factions, are open to all parties, and influenced by none;" and they have a good, kind, or civil word for everybody. The cheerful morning salutation of one of these cleanly, respectable persons is a "handsell" for the pleasures of the day; serenity is in its tone, and comfort glances from its accompanying smile. Their small, cool, clean, and sparingly-furnished shops, with sanded floor and towelled walls, relieved by the white-painted, well-scoured shelves, scantily adorned with the various implements of their art, denote the snug system of economy which characterises the owners. Here, only, is the looking-glass not an emblem of vanity: it is placed to reflect, and not to flatter. You seat yourself in the lowly, antique chair, worn smooth by the backs of half a century of beard-owners, and instantly feel a full repose from fatigue of body and mind. You find yourself in attentive and gentle hands, and are persuaded that no man can be in collision with his shaver or hair-dresser. The very operation tends to set you on better terms with yourself: and your barber hath not in his constitution the slightest element of difference. The adjustment of a curl, the clipping of a lock, the trimming of a whisker, (that much-cherished and highly-valued adornment of the face,) are matters of paramount importance to both parties-threads of sympathy for the time, unbroken by the divesture of the thin, soft, ample mantle, that enveloped you in its snowy folds while under his care. Who can entertain ill-humour, much less vent his spleen, while wrapt in the symbolic vestment? The veriest churl is softened by the application of the warm emollient brush, and calmed into complacency by the light-handed hoverings of the comb and scissors. A smile, a compliment, a remark on the weather, a diffident, sidewind inquiry about politics, or the passing intelligence of the day, are tendered with that deference, which is the most grateful as well as the handsomest demonstration of politeness. Should you, on sitting down, half-blushingly request him to cut off "as large a lock as he can, merely," you assure him, "that you may detect any future change in its colour," how skilfully he extracts, from your rather thin head of hair, a graceful, flowing lock, which self-love alone prevents you from doubting to have been grown by yourself: how pleasantly you contemplate, in idea, its glossiness from beneath the intended glass of the propitiatory locket. A web of delightful associations is thus woven ; and the care he takes to "make each particular hair to stand on end" to your wishes, so as to let you know he surmises your destination, completes the charm.-We never hear of people cutting their throats in a barber's shop, though the place is redolent of razors. No; the ensanguined spots that occasionally besmirch the whiteness of the revolving towel is from careless, unskilful, and opiniated individuals, who mow their own beards, or refuse to restrain their risibility. I wonder how any can usurp the province of the barber, (once an almost exclusive one,) and apply unskilful, or unpractised hands so near to the grand canal of life. For my own part, I would not lose the daily elevation of my tender nose, by the velvet-tipped digits velvet-tipped digits of my barber-no, not for an independence! The genuine barber is usually (like his razors) well-tempered; a man unvisited by care; combining a somewhat hasty assiduity, with an easy and respectful manner. He exhibits the best part of the character of a Frenchman-an uniform exterior suavity, and politesse. He seems a faded nobleman, or émigré of the old régime. And surely if the souls of men transmigrate, those of the old French noblesse seek the congenial soil of the barber's bosom ! Is it a degradation of worthy and untroubled spirits, to imagine, that they, animate the bodies of the harmless and unsophisticated? In person the barber usually inclines to the portly; but is rarely obese. His is that agreeable plumpness betokening the man at ease with himself and the worldand the utter absence of that fretfulness ascribed to leanness. Nor do his comely proportions and fleshiness make leaden the heels, or lessen the elasticity of his step, or transmute his feathery lightness of hand |