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sometimes forgot his office, and indulged in sallies rather unbecoming a minister, but nevertheless he was a sincere Christian. The following anecdotes are well known in Craven, and inay amuse elsewhere. One of Mr. Alcock's friends, at whose house he was in the habit of calling previously to his entering the church on Sundays, once took occasion to unstitch his sermon and misplace the leaves. At the church, Mr. Alcock, when he had read a page, discovered the joke. "Peter," said he, "thou rascal! what's thou been doing with my sermon?" then turning to his congregation he said, "Brethren, Peter's been misplacing the leaves of my sermon, I have not time to put them right, I shall read on as I find it, and you must make the best of it that you can ;" and he accordingly read through the confused mass, to the astonishment of his flock. On another occasion, when in the pulpit, he found that he had

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(Literal Copy.)

NOTICE.

F. W.

forgotten his sermon; nowise disappointed Saturday 30 and on Sunday 31 of the

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at the loss, he called out to his clerk, " Jonas, I have left my sermon at home, so hand us up that Bible, and I'll read 'em a chapter in Job worth ten of it!" Jonas, like his master, was an oddity, and used to make a practice of falling asleep at the commencement of the sermon, and waking in the middle of it, and bawling out "amen," thereby destroyed the gravity of the congregation. Mr. Alcock once lectured him for this, and particularly requested he would not say amen till he had finished his discourse. Jonas promised compliance, but on the following Sunday made bad worse, for he fell asleep as usual, and in the middle of the sermon awoke and bawled out" Amen at a venture!" The Rev. Mr. Alcock is, I think, buried before the communion-table of Skipton church, under a slab of blue marble, with a Latin inscription to his memory.

T. Q. M.

REMARKABLE EPITAPH.

For the Table Book.

FRANK FRY, of Christian Malford, Wilts, whose bones lie undisturbed in the churchyard of his native village, wrote for himself the following

"EPITAPH.

"Here lies I

Who did die ;

I lie did

As I die did,
Old Frank Fry!

corrent, in the Royal Theatre of St. Charles will be represented by the Italian Company the famous Holy Drama intitled IL TRIONFO DI GIUDITTA,

O SIA

LA MORTE D'OLOFERNE.

In the interval of the frist to the second act it shall have a new and pompous Ball of the composition of John Baptista Gianini, who has by title :

IL SACRIFICIO D'ABRAMO, in which will enter all the excellent corp of Ball, who dance at present in the said Royal Theatre; the spetacle will be finished with the second act and Ball analog to the same Drama, all with the nessessary decoration.

This is who is offered to the Respectable Publick of whom is waited all the proctetion and concurrence:

It will begin at 8 o'clok.

Na Officina de Simão Thaddeo Ferreira. 1811. Com licenca.

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SNUFFERS.

Perhaps there is no implement of domestic use that we are less acquainted with, in its old form, than snuffers. I have now before me a pair, which for their antiquity and elegant workmanship seem worth attention: the engraving on the other side represents their exact size and construction.

After some research, I can only meet with particulars of one other pair, which were found in digging the foundation of a granary, at the foot of a hill adjoining to Cotton Mansion-house, (formerly the seat of the respectable family of the Mohuns,) in the parish of St. Peter, Portisham, about two miles north-east from Abbotsbury in Dorsetshire. They were of brass, and weighed six ounces. "The great differ"between these ence," says Mr. Hutchins, and modern utensils of the same name and use is, that these are in shape like a heart fluted, and consequently terminate in a point. They consist of two equal lateral cavities, by the edges of which the snuff is cut off and received into the cavities, from which it is not got out without particular application and trouble. There are two circumstances attending this little utensil, which seem to bespeak it of considerable age: the roughness of the workmanship, which is in ail respects as rude and coarse as can be well imagined, and the awkwardness of the form." There is an engraving of the Dorsetshire snuffers in the history of that county.

The snuffers now submitted to notice are superior in design and workmanship to those found in Dorsetshire. The latter seem of earlier date, and they divide in the middle of the upper as well as the lower part, but in one respect both pairs are alike they are each "in shape like a heart," and they each terminate in a point formed exactly in the manner shown by the present engraving. The print likewise shows that the box of the snuffers bears a boldly chased winged head of Mercury, who had more employments and occupations than any other of the ancient deities. Whether as the director of theft, as the conductor of the departed to their final destination, as an interpreter to enlighten, or as an officebearer constantly in requisition, the portrait of Mercury is a symbol appropriate to the implement before us. The engraving shows the exact size of the instrument, and the present appearance of the chasing, which is in bold relief, and was, originally, very elegant.

These snuffers are plain on the underside, and made without legs. They were

purchased, with some miscellaneous articles, by a person who has no clue to their former possessors, but who rightly imagined that in an archæological view they would be acceptable to the Table Book.

Garrick Plays.

No. XVIII.

[From "David and Bethsabe:" further Extracts.] !

Absalon, rebelling.

Now for the crown and throne of Israel,
To be confirm'd with virtue of my sword,
And writ with David's blood upon the blade.
Now, Jove, let forth the golden firmament,
And look on him with all thy fiery eyes,
Which thou hast made to give their glories light.
To shew thou lovest the virtue of thy hand,
Let fall a wreath of stars upon my head,
Whose influence may govern Israel
With state exceeding all her other Kings.
Fight, Lords and Captains, that your Sovereign's face
May shine in honour brighter than the sun;
And with the virtue of my beauteous rays
Make this fair Land as fruitful as the fields,
That with sweet milk and honey overflowed.
God in the whissing of a pleasant wind

Shall march upon the tops of mulberry trees,
To cool all breasts that burn with any griefs ;
As whilom he was good to Moyses' men,
By day the Lord shall sit within a cloud,
To guide your footsteps to the fields of joy ;
And in the night a pillar bright as fire
Shall go before you like a second sun,

Wherein the Essence of his Godhead is;
That day and night you may be brought to peace,
And never swerve from that delightsome path
That leads your souls to perfect happiness :
This he shall do for joy when I am King.
Then fight, brave Captains, that these joys may fly
Into
your bosoms with sweet victory.

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Alvida. And wilt thou then not pity my estate? Cilicia. Ask love of them who pity may impart. Alvida. I ask of thee, sweet; thou hast stole my

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Alvida. Ladies, go sit you down amidst this bower, And let the Eunuchs play you all asleep: Put garlands made of roses on your heads, And play the wantons, whilst I talk awhile.

Ladies. Thou beautiful of all the world, we will. (Exeunt.)

Alvida. King of Cilicia, kind and courteous;
Like to thyself, because a lovely King;

Come lay thee down upon thy Mistress' knee,
And I will sing and talk of Love to thee.

Cilicia. Most gracious Paragon of excellence,

It fits not such an abject wretch as I

To talk with Rasni's Paramour and Love.

Alvida. To talk, sweet friend! who would not talk

with thee?

Oh be not coy: art thou not only fair?

Come twine thine arms about this snow-white neck,
A love-nest for the Great Assyrian King.
Blushing I tell thee, fair Cilician Prince,
None but thyself can merit such a grace.

Cilica. Madam, I hope you mean not for to mock me. Alvida. No, King, fair King, my meaning is to yoke thee,

Hear me but sing of Love: then by my sighs,
My tears, my glancing looks, my changed cheer,
Thou shalt perceive how I do hold thee dear.

Cilicia. Sing, Madam, if you please; but love in jest.
Alvida. Nay, I will love, and sigh at every jest.
(She sings.)

Beauty, alas! where wast thou born,
Thus to hold thyself in scorn,

When as Beauty kiss'd to wooe thee?
Thou by Beauty dost undo me.
Heigho, despise me not.

I and thou in sooth are one,
Fairer thou, I fairer none :
Wanton thou; and wilt thou, wanton,
Yield a cruel heart to plant on?
Do me right, and do me reason;
Cruelty is cursed treason.

Heigho, I love; Heigho, I love;
Heigho, and yet he eyes me not.
Cilicia, Madam your Song is passing passionate.

heart.

Cilicia. Your love is fixed on a greater King. Alvida Tut, women's love-it is a fickle thing. I love my Rasni for my dignity:

I love Cilician King for his sweet eye.

I love my Rasni, since he rules the world:
But more I love this Kingly little world.
How sweet he looks !-O were I Cynthia's sphere,
And thou Endymion, I should hold thee dear:
Thus should mine arms be spread about thy neck,
Thus would I kiss my Love at every beck.
Thus would I sigh to see thee sweetly sleep;
And if thou wak'st not soon, thus would I weep:

And thus, and thus, and thus: thus much I love thee.

[From "Tethys' Festival," by Samuel Daniel, 1610.]

Song at a Court Masque
Are they shadows that we see
And can shadows pleasure give?—
Pleasures only shadows be,
Cast by bodies we conceive;
And are made the things we deem
In those figures which they seem.—
But these pleasures vanish fast,
Which by shadows are exprest:-
Pleasures are not, if they last;
In their passing is their best.
Glory is most bright and gay
In a flash, and so away.
Feed apace then, greedy eyes,
On the wonder you behold;
Take it sudden as it flies,
Tho'
you
take it not to hold:
When your eyes have done their part,
Thought must lengthen it in the heart.

C. L.

Scylla and Charybdis.

ANCIENT AND PRESENT STATE.

Incidit in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdis. This Latin verse, which has become proverbial, is thus translated :—

He falls on Scylla, who Charybdis shuns.

The line has been ascribed to Ovid; it is not, however, in that or any other classic poet, but has been derived from Philippe Gualtier, a modern French writer of Latin verses. Charybdis is a whirlpool in the straits of Messina, on the coast of Sicily, opposite to Scylla, a dangerous rock on the coast of Italy. The danger to which mariners were exposed by the whirlpool is thus

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described by Homer in Pope's transla- about with great rapidity, without obeying tion:

Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms,

And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms;
When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves,
The rough rock roars; tumultuous boil the waves:
They toss, they foam, a wild confusion raise,
Like waters bubbling o'er the fiery blaze;
Eternal mists obscure the aërial plain,

And high above the rock she spouts the main.
When in her gulfs the rushing sea subsides,
She drains the ocean with the refluent tides,
The rock rebellows with a thundering sound;
Deep, wondrous deep, below appears the ground.

Virgil imagines the origin of this terrific

scene:

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May 19, 1770. Found ourselves within half a mile of the coast of Sicily, which is low, but finely variegated. The opposite coast of Calabria is very high, and the mountains are covered with the finest verdure. It was almost a dead calm, our ship scarce moving half a mile in an hour, so that we had time to get a complete view of the famous rock of Scylla, on the Calabrian side, Cape Pylorus on the Sicilian, and the celebrated Straits of the Faro that runs between them. Whilst we were still some miles distant from the entry of the Straits, we heard the roaring of the current, like the noise of some large impetuous river confined between narrow banks. This increased in proportion as we advanced, till we saw the water in many places raised to a considerable height, and forming large eddies or whirlpools. The sea in every other place was as smooth as glass. Our old pilot told us, that he had often seen ships caught in these eddies, and whirled

Bourn's Gazetteer.

the helm in the smallest degree. When the
weather is calm, there is little danger; but
when the waves meet with this violent cur-
He says,
rent, it makes a dreadful sea.
there were five ships wrecked in this spot
last winter. We observed that the current
set exactly for the rock of Scylla, and
would infallibly have carried any thing
thrown into it against that point; so that it
was not without reason the ancients have
painted it as an object of such terror. It
is about a mile from the entry of the Faro,
and forms a small promontory, which runs
a little out to sea, and meets the whole
force of the waters, as they come out of the
narrowest part of the Straits. The head of
this promontory is the famous Scylla. It
must be owned that it does not altogether
come up to the formidable description that
Homer gives of it; the reading of which
(like that of Shakspeare's Cliff) almost
makes one's head giddy. Neither is the
passage so wondrous narrow and difficult
as he makes it. Indeed it is probable that
the breadth of it is greatly increased since
his time, by the violent impetuosity of the
current. And this violence too must have
always diminished, in proportion as the
breadth of the channel increased.

Our pilot says, there are many small rocks that show their heads near the base of the large ones. These are probably the dogs that are described as howling round the monster Scylla. There are likewise many caverns that add greatly to the noise of the water, and tend still to increase the horror of the scene. The rock is near two hundred feet high. There is a kind of castle or fort built on its summit; and the town of Scylla, or Sciglio, containing three or four hundred inhabitants, stands on its south side, and gives the title of prince to a Calabrese family.

CHARYBDIS.

The harbour of Messina is formed by a off from the east end of the city, and sepasmall promontory or neck of land that runs rates that beautiful basin from the rest of the Straits. The shape of this promontory is that of a reaping-hook, the curvature of which forms the harbour, and secures it from all winds. From the striking resemblance of its form, the Greeks, who never gave a name that did not either describe the object or express some of its most remarkable properties, called this place Zancle, or the Sickle, and feigned that the sickle of Saturn fell on this spot, and gave it its form. But the Latins, who were not quite so fond

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