Britons, it is reasonable to conjecture, where such insignia are discovered, the tumuli are the sepulchres of some British chieftains, who fell in the Roman service." The size of each tumulus was in proportion to the rank and respect of the deceased; and the labour requisite to its formation was considerably lessened by the number employed, each inferior soldier being obliged to contribute a certain quantum to the general heap. That the one of which we are speaking is the resting-place of a great personage may be easily inferred, from its magnitude; its name also indicates the same thing, "WILLY-HOWE," being the hill of many, or the hill made by many for in Gibson's Camden we find "Willy and Vili among the English Saxons, as Viele at this day among the Germans, signified many. So Willielmus, the defender of many. Wilfred, peace to many." Supposing then a distinguished British chieftain, who fell in the imperial service, to have been here interred, we may readily imagine that the Romans and Britons would endeavour to stimulate their own party by making his merits appear as conspicuous as possible; and to impress an awe and a dread on the feelings of their enemies, they would not hesitate to practise what we may call a pardonable fraud, in a pretension that the fairies were his friends, and continued to work miracles at his tomb. At the first glance, this idea may seem to require a stretch of fancy, but we can more readily reconcile it when we consider how firm was the belief that was placed in miracles; how prevalent the love that existed, in those dark ages of ignorance and superstition, to whatever bore that character; and how ready the Romans, with their superior sagacity, would be to avail themselves of it. The Saxons, when they became possessed of the country, would hear many strange tales, which a species of bigoted or unaccountable attach

ment to the marvellous would cause to be

handed down from generation to genera tion, each magnifying the first wonder, until they reached the climax, whence they are now so fast descending. Thus may probably have arisen the principal feature in the history of their origin.

This mode of sepulture appears to be very ancient, and that it was very general is sufficiently demonstrated by the hills yet remaining in distant parts of the world. Dr. Clarke, who noticed their existence in Siberia and Russian-Tartary, thinks the practice is alluded to in the Old Testament in these passages: They raised a great

heap of stones on Achan;"" and raised a great heap of stones on the king of Ai ;" "they laid a heap of stones on Absalom." In the interior of South Africa, the Rev. J. Campbell "found a large heap of small stones, which had been raised by each passenger adding a stone to the heap; it was intended as a monument of respect to the memory of a king, from a remote nation, who was killed in the vicinity, and whose head and hands were interred in that spot."

The number of these mounds in our own country is very considerable; and I trust they will remain the everlasting monuments of their own existence. Their greatest enemy is an idle curiosity, that cannot be satisfied with what antiquaries relate concerning such as have been examined, but, with a vain arrogance, assumes the power of digging though them at pleasure. For my own part, I must confess, I should like to be a witness of what they contain, yet I would hold them sacred, so far as not to have them touched with the rude hand of Ignorance. Whenever I approach these venerable relics, my mind is carried back to the time when they were young; since then, I consider what years have rolled over years, what generations have followed generations, and feel an interest peculiarly and delicately solemn, in the fate of those whose dust is here mingled with its kindred dust.

Bridlington.

HORN CHURCH IN ESSEX.

For the Table Book.

T. C.

In reply to the inquiry by Ignotus, in the Every-Day Book, vol. ii. p. 1650, respectin Essex, I find much ambiguity on the ing the origin of affixing horns to a church subject, and beg leave to refer to that excellent work," Newcourt's Repertorium," thority of Weaver, "The inhabitants here vol. ii. p. 336, who observes, on the ausay, by tradition, that this church, dedicated to St. Andrew, was built by a female convert, to expiate for her former sins, and that it was called Hore-church at first, till by a certain king, but by whom they are uncerHorned-church, who caused those horns to tain, who rode that way, it was called be put out at the east end of it."

The vane, on the top of the spire, is also in the form of an ox's head, with the horns. "The hospital had neither college nor common seal."

m.

or to condemn to gaze with rapture, or to turn away with disgust, where another shall pass and see nothing to excite the slightest emotion. The fair creation of nature, and the works of man afford him a wide field of continual gratification. The brook, brawling over its bed of rocks or pebbles, half concealed by the overhanging bushes that fringe its banks-or the great river flowing, in unperturbed majesty, through a wide vale of peace and plenty, or forcing its passage through a lofty range of opposing hills the gentle knoll, and the towering moun tain-the rocky dell, and the awful precipice-the young plantation, and the venerable forest, are alike to him objects of interest and of admiration.

So in the works of man, a foot-bridge, thrown across a torrent, may be in it as gratifying to the man of taste as the finest arch, or most wonderful chain-bridge in the world; and a cottage of the humblest order may be so beautifully situated, so neatly kept, and so tastefully adorned with woodbine and jessamine, as to call forth his admiration equally with the princely residence of the British landholder, in all its pride of position, and splendour

of architecture.

In short, this faculty is applicable to every object; and he who finds any thing too lofty or too humble for his admiration, does not possess it. It is exercised in the every-day affairs of life as much as in the higher arts and sciences.-Monthly Maga zine.

Two RAVENS, abroad.

On the quay at Nimeguen, in the United Provinces, two ravens are kept at the public expense; they live in a roomy apartment, with a large wooden cage before it, which serves them for a balcony. These birds are feasted every day with the choicest fowls, with as much exactness as if they were for a gentleman's table. The privileges of the city were granted originally upon the observance of this strange custom, which is continued to this day.

Two RAVENS, AT HOME.

In a MS. of the late Rev. Mr. Gough, of Shrewsbury, it is related, that one Thomas Elkes, of Middle, in Shropshire, being guardian to his eldest brother's child, who was young, and stood in his way to a considerable estate, hired a poor boy to entice him into a corn field to gather flowers, and

meeting them, sent the poor boy home, took his nephew in his arms, and carried him to a pond at the other end of the field, into which he put the child, and there left him. The child being missed, and inquiry made after him, Elkes fled, and took the road to London; the neighbours sent two horsemen in pursuit of him, who passing along the road near South Mims, in Hertfordshire, saw two ravens sitting on a cock of hay making an unusual noise, and pulling the hay about with their beaks, on which they went to the place, and found Elkes asleep under the hay. He said, that these two ravens had followed him from the time he did the fact. He was brought to Shrewsbury, tried, condemned, and hung in chains on Knockinheath.

THE LAST TREE OF THE FOREST. Whisper, thou tree, thou lonely tree,

One, where a thousand stood!
Well might proud tales be told by thee,
Last of the solemn wood!

Dwells there no voice amidst thy boughs,

With leaves yet darkly green? Stillness is round, and noontide glowsTell us what thou hast seen!

"I have seen the forest-shadows lie
Where now men reap the corn;

I have seen the kingly chase rush by,
Through the deep glades at morn.

"With the glance of many a gallant spear,
And the wave of many a plume,
And the bounding of a hundred deer

It hath lit the woodland's gloom.

"I have seen the knight and his train ride past, With his banner borne on high ;

O'er all my leaves there was brightness cast
From his gleamy panoply.

"The pilgrim at my feet hath laid

His palm-branch 'midst the flowers, And told his beads, and meekly pray'd,

Kneeling at vesper-hours.

"And the merry men of wild and glen,

In the green array they wore, Have feasted here with the red wine's cheer, And the hunter-songs of yore.

"And the minstrel, resting in my shade,

Hath made the forest ring

With the lordly tales of the high crusade,
Once loved by chief and king.

"But now the noble forms are gone,]

That walk'd the earth of old;
The soft wind hath a mournful tone,
The sunny light looks cold.

"There is no glory left us now

Like the glory with the dead :I would that where they slumber low, My latest leaves were shed."

Oh! thou dark tree, thou lonely tree, That mournest for the past!

A peasant's home in thy shade I see, Embower'd from every blast.

A lovely and a mirthful sound

Of laughter meets mine ear;

For the poor man's children sport around On the turf, with nought to fear.

And roses lend that cabin's wall

A happy summer-glow,

And the open door stands free to all,
For it recks not of a foe.

And the village-bells are on the breeze
That stirs thy leaf, dark tree!→
--How can I mourn, amidst things like these,
For the stormy past with thee?

F. H. New Monthly Magazine.

MISS POLLY BAKER.

Towards the end of 1777, the abbé Raynal calling on Dr. Franklin found, in company with the doctor, their common friend, Silas Deane. "Ah! monsieur l'abbé," said Deane, 66 we were just talking of you and your works. Do you know that you have been very ill served by some of those people who have undertaken to give you information on American affairs?" The abbé resisted this attack with some warmth; and Deane supported it by citing a variety of passages from Raynal's works, which he alleged to be incorrect. At last they came to the anecdote of "Polly Baker," on which the abbé had displayed a great deal of pathos and sentiment. "Now here," says Deane," is a tale in which there is not one word of truth." Raynal fired at this, and asserted that he had taken it from an authentic memoir received from America, Franklin, who had amused himself hitherto with listening to the dispute of his friends, at length interposed, "My dear abbé," said he, "shall I tell you the truth? When I was a young man, and rather more thoughtless than is becoming at our present time of life, I was employed in writing for a newspaper; and, as it sometimes hap pened that I wanted genuine materials to fill up my page, I occasionally drew on the stores of my imagination for a tale which might pass current as a reality-now this very anecdote of Polly Baker was one of my inventions."

mane

BREAD SEALS.

66

The new conundrum of "bread pats," as the ladies call the epigrammatic imimpressors that their work-boxes are always full of now, pleases me mightily. Nothing could be more stupid than the old style of affiche-an initial-carefully engraved in a hand always perfectly unintelligible; or a crest-necessarily out of its place, nine times in ten, in female correspondencebecause nothing could be more un-" ger" than a bloody dagger" alarming every body it met, on the outside of an order for minikin pins! or a fiery dragon," threatening a French mantuamaker for some undue degree of tightness in the fitting of the sleeve! and then the same emblem, recurring through the whole letter-writing of a life, became tedious. But now every lady has a selection of axioms (in flower and water) always by her, suited to different occasions. As, "Though lost to sight, to memory 'dear !"-when she writes to a friend who has lately had his eye poked out. "Though absent, unforgotten!"-to a female correspondent, whom she has not written to for perhaps the three last (twopenny) posts; or, le meritez!" with the figure of a "rose "emblematic of every thing beautifulwhen she writes to a lover. It was receiving a note with this last seal to it that put the subject of seals into my mind; and I have some notion of getting one engraved with the same motto, " Vous le meritez," only with the personification of a horsewhip under it, instead of a 66 rose"-for peculiar occasions. And perhaps a second would not do amiss, with the same emblem, only with the motto, "Tu l'auras!" as a sort of corollary upon the first, in cases of emer gency! At all events, I patronise the system of a variety of "posies;" because, where the inside of a letter is likely to be stupid, it gives you the chance of a joke upon the out.-Monthly Magazine.

"Vous

BLEEDING FOR OUR COUNTRY.

It is related of a Lord Radnor in Chesterfield's time, that, with many good qualities, and no inconsiderable share of learning, he had a strong desire of being thought skilful in physic, and was very expert in bleeding. Lord Chesterfield knew his foible, and on a particular occasion, wanting his vote, came to him, and, after having conversed upon indifferent matters, complained of the headach, and desired his lordship to feel his pulse. Lord Radnor immediately advised

him to lose blood. Chesterfield complimented his lordship on his chirurgical skill, and begged him to try his lancet upon him. "A propos," said lord Chesterfield, after the operation, "do you go to the house today? Lord Radnor answered, "I did not intend to go, not being sufficiently informed of the question which is to be debated; but you, that have considered it, which side will you be of?"-The wily earl easily directed his judgment, carried him to the house, and got him to vote as he pleased. Lord Chesterfield used to say, that none of his friends had been as patriotic as himself, for he had "lost his blood for the good of his country."

Social Happiness.

A VILLAGE NEW YEAR.

For the Table Book.

"Almack's" may be charming,—an assembly at the "Crown and Anchor," and a hop of country quality at the annual "Race Ball," or a more popular "set to" at a fashionable watering-place, may delight but a lady of city or town cannot conceive the emotions enjoyed by a party collected in the village to see the "old year" out and the " new year" in. At this time, the country dance" is of the first importance to the young and old, yet not till the week has been occupied by abundant provisions of meat, fruit tarts, and mince pies, which, with made wines, ales, and spirits, are, like the blocks for fuel, piled in store for all partakers, gentle and simple. Extra best beds, stabling, and hay, are made ready,fine celery dug, the china service and pewter plates examined,-in short, want and wish are anticipated, nothing is omitted, but every effort used to give proofs of genuine hospitality. This year, if there is to be war in Portugal, many widowed hearts and orphan spirits may be diverted from, not to, a scene which is witnessed in places where peace and plenty abound. However, I will not be at war by conjecture, but suppose much of the milk of human kindness to be shared with those who look at the sunny side of things.

After tea, at which the civilities of the most gallant of the young assist to lighten the task of the hostess, the fiddler is announced, the "country dance" begins, and the lasses are all alive; their eyes seem lustrous and their animal spirits rise to the zero of harmonious and beautiful attraction.

The choosing of partners and tunes with favourite figures is highly considered. Old folks who have a leg left and are desirous of repeating the step (though not so light) of fifty years back, join the dance; and the floor, whether of stone or wood, is swept to notes till feet are tired. This is pursued till suppertime at ten o'clock. Meantime, the "band" (called "waits" in London) is playing before the doors of the great neighbours, and regaled with beer, and chine, and pies; the village "college youths" are tuning the handbells, and the admirers of the "steeple chase" loiter about the churchyard to hear the clock strike twelve, and startle the air by high mettle sounds. Methodist and Moravian dissenters assemble at their places of worship to watch out the old year, and continue to "watch" till four or five in the new year's morning. Villagers, otherwise disposed, follow the church plan, and commemorate the vigils in the old unreformed way. After a sumptuous supper, at which some maiden's heart is endangered by the roguish eye, or the salute and squeeze by stealth, dancing is resumed, and, according to custom, a change of partners takes place, often to the joy and disappointment of love and lovers. At every rest—the fiddler makes a squeaking of the strings-this is called kiss 'em! a practice well understood by the tulip fanciers. The pipes, tobacco, and substantials are on the qui vive, by the elders in another part of the house, and the pint goes often to the cellar.

As the clock strikes a quarter to twelve, a bumper is given to the "old friend," standing, with three farewells! and while the church bells strike out the departure of his existence, another bumper is pledged to the "new infant," with three standing hip, hip, hip-huzzas! It is further customary for the dance to continue all this time, that the union of the years should be cemented by friendly intercourse.

Feasting and

merriment are carried on until four or five o'clock, when, as the works of the kitchen have not been relaxed, a pile of sugar toast is prepared, and every guest must partake of its sweetness, and praise it too, before separation. Headaches, lassitude, and paleness, are thought 'little of, pleasure supthe undulations of care in proper subjecpresses the sigh, and the spirit of joy keeps tion-Happy times these!-Joyful opportu nities borrowed out of youth to be repaid by ripened memory!--snatched, as it were, from the wings of Time to be written on his brow with wrinkles hereafter.

R. P.