« НазадПродовжити »
Sweete Marie ! swiftlye comes the noone
That gives thy beautye all its rayes,
And heartes shall wither in its blaze.
crawling on him in the dark. He observes, that there is no reason to be given for these secret dislikes. He humorously attributes them to the doctrine of the transmigration of the soul; and as regarded hinıself, he supposed he had been a fly, before he came into his body, and that having been frequently, persecuted with spiders, he still retained the dread of his old enemy.
Yette there are eyes had deeper loved
That rosebudde in its matine-beam,
POINTS OF CHARACTER.
A PRIME MINISTER. A curious observer of nature will be delighted to know, that the lacteal vessels The late sir Robert Walpole was from are more visible' in a mole, than in any his youth fond of field sports, and retained animal whatever. The view, however, is his attachment to them until prevented by not of long duration. These vessels are the infirmities of age from their further enrendered visible by the mode of killing the joyment. He was accustomed to hunt in animal, which is by a wire gin that com- Richmond Park with a pack of beagles. presses the thoracic duct, thereby prevent- Upon receiving a packet of letters, he ing the ascent of the chyle upwards. The usually opened that from his gamekeeper time of demonstration is about half an first; and in the pictures taken of him, he hour after death. This curious fact was preferred being drawn in his sporting unknown to anatomists, till mentioned by dress. Dr. A. Hunter, in his volume of maxims
A PRELATE. on men and manners.
Bishop Juxon, who attended Charles I. on the scaffold, retired after the
king's death to his own manor of Little Compton, in
Gloucestershire, where, as Whitlocke tells LOUIS GONZAGA
us in his Memorials," he much delighted in hunting, and kept a pack of good hounds,
and had them so well ordered and hunted, MARIE MANCINI.
chiefly by his own skill and direction, that
they exceeded all other hounds in England FLORENCE, 1649.
for the pleasure and orderly hunting of
Mr. Woolford, a sporting gentleman, as
remarkable for politeness in the field as for I worshippe thee thou silverre starre,
the goodness of his fox-hounds, was one As thron'd amid the vault of blue, Rushes thy queenlye splendoure farre,
evening thus addressed by his huntsman : O'er mountain top and vale of dewe.
“ An' please your honour, sir,” twirling his
cap and quid at the same time, “ I should Yette more I love thy infante ray,
be glad to be excused going to-morrow to As risinge from its easterne cave,
Woolford-wood, as I should like to go to With circlinge, fearfulle, fonde delaye,
see my poor wife buried.” “I am sorry for It seemes to kisse the crimsone wave. thee, Tom," said his master, “we can do one
day without thee: she was an excellent I love the proud and solemne sweepe
wife.” On the following morning, howOf harpe and trumpette's harmonye,
ever, Tom was the first in the field. “ Like swellinges of the midnighte deepe,
Hey. Like anthemes of the opening skye.
day!" quoth Mr. W., " did not I give you
leave to see the remains of your poor wife But lovelier to my heart the tone
interred ?" “ Yes, your honour, but I That dies along the twilighte's winge, thought as how we should have good sport, Just heard, a silver sigh, and gone,
as it is a fine morning; so I desired our As if a spiritte touch'd the stringe.
Dick, the dog-feeder, to see her earth'd."
divulged. The 'tenderest billet-doux, the
kindest acknowledgments, the sweetest Every one will agree with me, that this confessions of a mistress--the cruellest exis the favourite article of furniture. Every pressions and bitterest reproaches of a one is fond of it as of an old friend friend lost to us for ever through the false faithful and trustworthy one-to whom has and malignant representations of an enemy been confided both joys and sorrows. It is -or perhaps the youthful effusions of our most likely the gift of some cherished, pero own brain, which we occasionally draw haps departed being, reminding us by its forth from the recesses of the most secretly good qualities of the beloved giver. We contrived pigeon-hole, and read over à la have no seruple in committing our dearest dérobée, with a half blush (at our self-love) secrets to its faithful bosom--they are never and a smile partly painful from revived ree
collections of days gone, never to return- ranged, both inside and out. The latter is all these we may unhesitatingly deposit in kept bright and shining by the indefatithis personification of deskretion.
gable hands of Sally the housemaid ; who, The very posture assumed at a desk be- while she breathes upon the plate to give speaks confidence and security. The head it a polish, at the same time breathes a wish inclined over it, and the bosom leaning in (to herself) that her breath possessed the gentle trustingness against this kind and magic power of unfastening locks, and so patient friend.
enabling her to see “ what the old gentleBy this description I would present to the man keeps in this here box to make him “ mind's eye" of the reader a plain únosten- so fond on it.” The interior he takes intatious piece of furniture, of too simple an finite care to keep in complete and exact exterior to be admitted any where than in order himself. Each particular compart, the study - square in shape, mahogany, ment has its appropriate contents consigned bound with brass at the corners, a plate of to it. The fold-down nearest to him, as he the same metal on the top, of just a suffi- sits at it, contains a small miniature within cient size to contain one's own initials and a red morocco case, of a placid and gentlethose of the giver. I detest those finicking faced girl, whose original sleeps for ever in machines one finds wrapped up in an oil- the bosom of the cold earth-a little box, skin case in a drawing-room; made of containing a ring set with brilliants, and rosewood, inlaid with silver, or mother-of- enclosing a lock of her hair-all her letters pearl, and lined with blue velvet. It seems carefully tied up with green ribbon like an insult to the friendly character of a miniature edition of Shakspeare, and Mildesk, to dress him smartly, seat him in a ton, with his name written in them in her fine apartment, and refuse to avail yourself hand-writing. In the opposite fold, near of the amicable services he tenders you.- the receptacle for the pens, wafers, ink, &c. The contents of these coxcombical ac
are his own little writings, (for we are to quaintances are seldom better than its fair suppose him fond of his pen, and as having owner's private journal, (which no occasionally indulged that fondness,) of all thinks worthy of perusal-herself of course of which he preserves neat copies, some excepted,) her album, and scrap-book, the private memoranda, and an old pocket, honourable Mr. Somebody's poetical effu- book, given to him by his old friend and sions, and the sentimental correspondence school-fellow, admiral when he left of some equally silly young lady, her dear. England that year as a midshipman. est friend.
In the drawer are different letters from Then there is the clerk's desk in a count- his friends; and, perhaps, at the very back ing-house-there are no pleasant associa- of it, a little hoard of gold pieces, bright tions connected with that mercantile scafe and new from the mint. folding, with its miniature balustrades at
As I now lean upon my old friend and the top, partly intersected with accounts, companion-my desk - I render it my bills, and papers of all sorts, (referring to grateful acknowledgments for the many business,) and surrounded by files clinging pleasant hours I have spent over it; and by their one hook. Above all this is seen also for its having been the means of my the semicircular scalp of a brown wig, passing an agreeable quarter of an hour which, as it is raised to reply to your ques- with my gentle reader, of whom I now take tion, gradually discovers two eyes scowling a courteous leave. at you from beneath a pair of glaring spec
M. H. tacles, a little querulous turned-up nose, and a mouth whose lines have become rigid with ill-humour, partly occasioned by
WRITING DESKS. a too sedentary life.
There is not any mention of writing-desks Again, there is the pulpit desk, with its among the ancients. They usually wrote arrogant crimson cushion-telling a tale of upon the knee in the manner wherein Anclerical presumption.
gelica Kauffman represents the younger Lastly, there is the old bachelor's desk. Pliny, as may be seen in a modern engrav(Nay, do not curl up the corners of your ing; and yet it appears from Stolberg, pretty mouths at me, sweet ladies-it may quoted by Mr. Fosbroke, that desks rebe worth while to take a peep at it-at sembling ours have been found in Herleast, I cannot prevail upon myself to omit culaneum. Writing-desks in the middle it in this notice of desks.) It is of the ages slanted so much, as to form an angle plain and quiet description formerly men- of forty-five degrees : their slant till within tioned, and very neatly and orderly are the last two centuries was little less.
For the Table Book.
BAKEWELL, DERBYSHIRE. WILTS' LOCAL CUSTOM.
ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND INSCRIPTIONS DANCING ROUND THE HARROW.
IN THE CHURCH.
Upon the tablet over the mural monuDear sir,-! hand you the following the following inscription :
ment in the chantry of the Holy Cross, is authentic particulars which happened in the pleasant village of S**** n B****r, Godfrey Foljambe, Knight, and Avena his and gave rise to “ dancing round the hara wife, (who afterwards married Richard row:” if worthy of being chronicled in the de Greene, Knight,) Lord and Lady of Table Book, they are yours.
the Manors of Hassop, Okebrook, Elton, John Jones, not finding his lovesuit suc- Stanton, Darley, Overhall, and Lokhawe, cessful with his master's daughter, because founded this Chantry in honor of the her father, a farmer, rebuked him, took Holy Cross, in the 39th year of the Reign umbrage, threw down his whip on the of King Edward the 3rd, 1366. Godfrey “ harrow” in the field, left the team, and, died on Thursday next after the Feast of sans cérémonie, went to sea.
the Ascension of our Lord, in the 50th year The farmer and his daughter Nancy were of the reign of the same King; and Avevariously affected by this circumstance. na died on Saturday next after the Feast « Comfortable letters" were hoped for, of the Nativity of the blessed Virgin news was expected from some corner of the Mary, in the 6th year of the reign of world, but no tidings arrived as to the fate Richard 2nd, 1383. or designs of honest John. Village gossips N. B. The Dates are taken from the Esoften talked of the poor lad. The farmer cheat Rolls, which contain the Inquisitum himself, who was a good sort of man, began post mortem, 50th Edward 3. No. 24. to relent; for Nancy's cheeks were not so rosy as formerly; she was dull at milking baster, of sir Thomas Wendersley de Wen
In the Vestry, there is an effigy in alatime. Observers at church whispered, “ How altered Nancy R* appears!” * * *
dersley, who was mortally wounded at the After a lapse of about six years appear and was buried at Bakewell, where formerly
battle of Shrewsbury, 4th Henry IV., 1403, ances change favourably. John returns
were several shields of the arms of his from sea auspiciously-meets his Nancy family carved in wood. (See Brailsford's with open arms-her father finds him dis
" Monumental Inscriptions of Derbyposed to make her happy-John requests
shire.") forgiveness, and is pardoned—his steadiness and attachment are tried and approved
Adjoining the vestry are several handand-suffice it to say-John and Nancy ners' families.
some monuments of the Vernon and Manare married. He assists her father in the duties of the farm as his years decline, sir George Vernon, inscribed thus :
In the centre is the tomb or cenotaph of while she supplies the absence of her mother, buried in the family grave of the Here lyeth Sir George Vernon, Knight, church-yard of her native village. * *
daye of Ano 156 and As soon as the wedding took place, a
Dame Margaret his Wife, dowghter of harrow" was brought on the grass-plot in Sr Gylbert Tayllboys, deceased the the fore-close, when the villagers invited
daye of 156 and also Dame Mawde danced round it till daybreak. * * * *
bis Wyffe, dowghter to Sir Ralphe LangThis “ dancing round the harrow" foot, deceased the daye of Ano 1566. kept on several anniversaries of the weda
whose solles God p-donding-day; a young family and the old pro- On the right is a monument to sir John jector's decease occasioned its discontinu- Manners, with this inscription : ance; but, on each of these occasions, John does not forget to present, instead, a not
Here lyeth Sir John Manners, of Haddon,
Knt. Second Sonne of Thomas Erle of less acceptable offering, a good supper to
Rutland, who died the 4th of June, 1611, his work folks in remembrance of his ad
and Dorothy his Wife, one of the Dawghvance in life.
ters and heires of Sir George Vernon, of I am, dear sir,
Haddon, Knt, who deceased, the 24th Goat and Boots, Yours very truly, day of June, in the 26th yeere of the August 3, 1827.
JEHOIADA. Rayne of Queene Elizabeth, 1584,
of 14 yeeres.
To the 'right of the window, on a mural Garrick Plays. monument, is the following : Heere lyeth buryed John Manners, Genta.
No. XXX. 3 Soñe of Sir John Mañers, Knight, who dyed the 16th day of July, in the Yeere
[From a “Woman's a Weathercock, a of our Lord God 1590, being of the Age
Comedy, by Nathaniel Field, 1612.] To the left is an elegant monument to
False Mistress. sir John Maners, with this inscription : George Manners of Haddon, Knt. here
Scudonore alone ; having a letter in his awaits the resurrection of the just in hand from Bellafront, assuring him of her Christ. He married Grace, second faith. daughter of Henry Pierrepoint, Knt. who
Scud. If what I feel I could express in words, afterwards bore him 4 sons and 5 daugh- Methinks I could speak joy enough to men ters, and lived with him in Holy Wed- To banish sadness from all love for ever. lock 30 years, she caused him to be O thou that reconcilest the faults of all buried with his forefathers, and then Thy frothy sex, and in thy single self placed this monument at her own ex- Confines ! nay has engross'd, virtue enough pence, as a perpetual Memorial of their To frame a spacious world of virtuous women ! conjugal faith, and she united the figure Had'st thou been the beginning of thy sex, of his body with hers, having resolwed I think the devil in the serpent's skin that their bones and ashes should be laid Had wanted cunning to o'er-come thy goodness ; together. He died 23rd Apl. 1623, aged And all had lived and died in innocency, 54-She died · aged
The whole creation
Who's there?-come inBeneath this monument, on an alabaster
Nevill (entering.) What up already, Scudmore? grave-stone on the floor, are some figures
Scud. Good morrow, my dear Nevill ? engraved round them, with an inscription,
Nev. What's this? a letter! sure it is not so now obliterated, and the arms of Eyre im
Scud. By heav'n, you must excuse me. Come, I paled with Mordaunt.
know In the Chancel.
You will not wrong my friendship, and your manners,
To ternpt me so. Upon an alabaster tomb, repaired, and Nev. Not for the world, my friend. the inscription cut, and filled up with black Good morrowin 1774, (by Mr. Watson.)
Scud. Nay, Sir, neither must you
Henry Vernon, who died the 12th of I swear I love you better than all men,
Equally with all virtue in the world :
Yet this would be a key to lead you to August, 1827.
E. J. H. A prize of that importance
Nev. Worthy friend,
I leave you not in anger,--what d'ye mean?
Nor am I of that inquisitive nature framed,
To thirst to know your private businesses.
Why, they concern not me: if they be ill,
And dangerous, 'twould grieve me much to know Quæritur, unde tibi sit nomen Erasmus ? Eras-mus. Resp.
If good, they be so, though I know them not:
Nor would I do your love so gross a wrong,
To covet to participate affairs
Doth not think fit, or dares not trust me with.
Scud. How sweetly doth your friendship play with Yet, by the import of thy name, wast small :
And with a simple subtlety steals heart
Out of my bosom! by the holiest love
That ever made a story, you are
With all good so replete, that I durst trust you
Ev'n with this secret, were it singly mine. Hence, if a Mouse, thy wit must this confess :
Nev. I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend. I will be SUM-MUS:Can'st thou make me less ?
Scud. Nay, look you, this same fashion does not J. R. P.