And with the sudden whirlwind of thy breath You were not wont to make your visitation So short and careless. Nev. Tis your jealousy, That makes you think it so; for, by my soul, All things that might be burdensome, and oppress me.— And the morn faster goes away from me, That I go toward it: and so good morrow Scud. Good morrow, Sir. Think I durst show it you Nev. Now, by my life, I not desire it, Sir; Envious and sland'rous, and will cut that throat Scud. You shall not go. I cannot now redeem the fault I have made Nev. Now, if you love me, do not wrong me so; Scud. O you have pierced my entrails with your words, And I must now explain all to your eyes. (Gives him the Letter.) Read; and be happy in my happiness. Nev. Yet think on't; keep thy secret and thy friend A probable reason to distrust thy friend, I starve for counsel; take it, look upon it. If As if it been known and published. For God's sake, read; but with this caution,- Nev. I read it, fearless of the forfeiture :- Nev. This day this Bellafront, this rich heir Scud. O that this stroke were thunder to my breast, For, Nevill, thou hast spoke my heart in twain ; Nev. For shame, return thy blood into thy face; Know'st not how slight a thing a Woman is ? Scud. Yes; and how serious too. Scudmore, afterwards, forsaken. Scud. Oh God! What an internal joy my heart has felt, He replies to his friend, who adjures him to live. Scud. The sun is stale to me; to-morrow morn,' As this, 'twill rise, I see no difference; The night doth visit me but in one robe; She brings as many thoughts, as she wears stars For what new strange thing should I covet life then? Shall Time (to show his strength) make Scudmore live, Till (perish the vicious thought) I love not thee; Ancient Music C. L. SUPERIOR TO MODERN. "That the music of the ancients," says Jeremy Collier, "could command farther than the modern, is past dispute. Whether they were masters of a greater compass of notes, or knew the secret of varying them the more artificially; whether they adjusted the intervals of silence more exactly, had their hands or their voices further improved, or their instruments better contrived; whether they had a deeper insight into the philosophy of nature, or understood the laws of the union of the soul and body more thoroughly; and thence were enabled to touch the passions, strengthen the sense, or prepare the medium with greater advantage; whether they excelled us in all, or in how many of these ways, is not so clear; however, this is certain, that our improvements in this kind are little better than ale-house crowds (fiddles) with respect to theirs," collections of days gone, never to returnall these we may unhesitatingly deposit in this personification of deskretion. The very posture assumed at a desk bespeaks confidence and security. The head inclined over it, and the bosom leaning in gentle trustingness against this kind and patient friend. By this description I would present to the "mind's eye" of the reader a plain unostentatious piece of furniture, of too simple an exterior to be admitted any where than in the study-square in shape, mahogany, bound with brass at the corners, a plate of the same metal on the top, of just a sufficient size to contain one's own initials and those of the giver. I detest those finicking machines one finds wrapped up in an oil skin case in a drawing-room; made of rosewood, inlaid with silver, or mother-ofpearl, and lined with blue velvet. It seems like an insult to the friendly character of a desk, to dress him smartly, seat him in a fine apartment, and refuse to avail yourself of the amicable services he tenders you.The contents of these coxcombical acquaintances are seldom better than its fair owner's private journal, (which no one thinks worthy of perusal-herself of course excepted,) her album, and scrap-book, the honourable Mr. Somebody's poetical effusions, and the sentimental correspondence of some equally silly young lady, her dearest friend. Then there is the clerk's desk in a counting-house-there are no pleasant associations connected with that mercantile scaffolding, with its miniature balustrades at the top, partly intersected with accounts, bills, and papers of all sorts, (referring to business,) and surrounded by files clinging by their one hook. Above all this is seen the semicircular scalp of a brown wig, which, as it is raised to reply to your question, gradually discovers two eyes scowling at you from beneath a pair of glaring spectacles, a little querulous turned-up nose, and a mouth whose lines have become rigid with ill-humour, partly occasioned by a too sedentary life. Again, there is the pulpit desk, with its arrogant crimson cushion-telling a tale of clerical presumption. Lastly, there is the old bachelor's desk. (Nay, do not curl up the corners of your pretty mouths at me, sweet ladies-it may be worth while to take a peep at it-at least, I cannot prevail upon myself to omit it in this notice of desks.) It is of the plain and quiet description formerly mentioned, and very neatly and orderly ar ranged, both inside and out. The latter is kept bright and shining by the indefatigable hands of Sally the housemaid; who, while she breathes upon the plate to give it a polish, at the same time breathes a wish (to herself) that her breath possessed the magic power of unfastening locks, and so enabling her to see "what the old gentleman keeps in this here box to make him so fond on it." The interior he takes infinite care to keep in complete and exact order himself. Each particular compartment has its appropriate contents consigned to it. The fold-down nearest to him, as he sits at it, contains a small miniature within a red morocco case, of a placid and gentlefaced girl, whose original sleeps for ever in the bosom of the cold earth a little box, containing a ring set with brilliants, and enclosing a lock of her hair-all her letters carefully tied up with green ribbon miniature edition of Shakspeare, and Milton, with his name written in them in her hand-writing. In the opposite fold, near the receptacle for the pens, wafers, ink, &c. are his own little writings, (for we are to suppose him fond of his pen, and as having occasionally indulged that fondness,) of all of which he preserves neat copies, some private memoranda, and an old pocketbook, given to him by his old friend and school-fellow, admiral when he left England that year as a midshipman. - a In the drawer are different letters from his friends; and, perhaps, at the very back of it, a little hoard of gold pieces, bright and new from the mint. As I now lean upon my old friend and companion-my desk - I render it my grateful acknowledgments for the many pleasant hours I have spent over it; and also for its having been the means of my passing an agreeable quarter of an hour with my gentle reader, of whom I now take a courteous leave. July, 1827. WRITING DESKS. M. H. There is not any mention of writing-desks among the ancients. They usually wrote upon the knee in the manner wherein Angelica Kauffman represents the younger Pliny, as may be seen in a modern engraving; and yet it appears from Stolberg, quoted by Mr. Fosbroke, that desks resembling ours have been found in Herculaneum. Writing-desks in the middle ages slanted so much, as to form an angle of forty-five degrees: their slant till within the last two centuries was little less. Topographiana. WILTS' LOCAL CUSTOM. DANCING ROUND THE HARROW. To the Editor. Dear sir,-I hand you the following authentic particulars which happened in the pleasant village of S**** n B****r, and gave rise to "dancing round the harrow" if worthy of being chronicled in the Table Book, they are yours. John Jones, not finding his lovesuit successful with his master's daughter, because her father, a farmer, rebuked him, took umbrage, threw down his whip on the "harrow" in the field, left the team, and, sans cérémonie, went to sea. The farmer and his daughter Nancy were variously affected by this circumstance."Comfortable letters " were hoped for, news was expected from some corner of the world, but no tidings arrived as to the fate or designs of honest John. Village gossips often talked of the poor lad. The farmer himself, who was a good sort of man, began to relent; for Nancy's cheeks were not so rosy as formerly; she was dull at milking time. Observers at church whispered,"How altered Nancy R* appears!” ** After a lapse of about six years appear ances change favourably. John returns from sea auspiciously-meets his Nancy with open arms-her father finds him disposed to make her happy-John requests forgiveness, and is pardoned-his steadiness and attachment are tried and approvedand—suffice it to say-John and Nancy are married. He assists her father in the duties of the farm as his years decline, while she supplies the absence of her mother, buried in the family grave of the church-yard of her native village. ** As soon as the wedding took place, a "harrow" was brought on the grass-plot in the fore-close, when the villagers invited danced round it till daybreak. **** was This "dancing round the harrow" kept on several anniversaries of the wedding-day; a young family and the old projector's decease occasioned its discontinuance; but, on each of these occasions, John does not forget to present, instead, a not less acceptable offering, a good supper to his workfolks in remembrance of his advance in life. Goat and Boots, August 3, 1827. I am, dear sir, For the Table Book. BAKEWELL, DERBYSHIRE. ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND INSCRIPTIONS IN THE CHURCH. Upon the tablet over the mural monuthe following inscription: ment in the chantry of the Holy Cross, is Godfrey Foljambe, Knight, and Avena his wife, (who afterwards married Richard de Greene, Knight,) Lord and Lady of the Manors of Hassop, Okebrook, Elton, Stanton, Darley, Overhall, and Lokhawe, founded this Chantry in honor of the Holy Cross, in the 39th year of the Reign of King Edward the 3rd, 1366. Godfrey died on Thursday next after the Feast of the Ascension of our Lord, in the 50th year of the reign of the same King; and Avena died on Saturday next after the Feast of the Nativity of the blessed Virgin Mary, in the 6th year of the reign of Richard 2nd, 1383. N. B. The Dates are taken from the Escheat Rolls, which contain the Inquisitum post mortem, 50th Edward 3. No. 24. baster, of sir Thomas Wendersley de WenIn the Vestry, there is an effigy in aladersley, who was mortally wounded at the battle of Shrewsbury, 4th Henry IV., 1403, and was buried at Bakewell, where formerly were several shields of the arms of his family carved in wood. (See Brailsford's "Monumental Inscriptions of Derbyshire.") Adjoining the vestry are several handners' families. some monuments of the Vernon and Man sir George Vernon, inscribed thus : In the centre is the tomb or cenotaph of Here lyeth Sir George Vernon, Knight, deceased, ye daye and daye of Ano 156 Dame Margaret his Wife, dowghter of Sr Gylbert Tayllboys, deceased the daye of and also Dame Mawde his Wyffe, dowghter to Sir Ralphe Langfoot, deceased the daye of Ano 1566. whose solles God p-don 156 On the right is a monument to sir John Manners, with this inscription: Here lyeth Sir John Manners, of Haddon, Knt. Second Sonne of Thomas Erle of Rutland, who died the 4th of June, 1611, and Dorothy his Wife, one of the Dawghters and heires of Sir George Vernon, of Haddon, Knt, who deceased the 24th day of June, in the 26th yeere of the Rayne of Queene Elizabeth, 1584. To the right of the window, on a mural monument, is the following: Heere lyeth buryed John Manners, Gent". 3 Sone of Sir John Mañers, Knight, who dyed the 16th day of July, in the Yeere of our Lord God 1590, being of the Age of 14 yeeres. To the left is an elegant monument to sir John Maners, with this inscription: George Manners of Haddon, Knt. here awaits the resurrection of the just in Christ. He married Grace, second daughter of Henry Pierrepoint, Knt. who afterwards bore him 4 sons and 5 daughters, and lived with him in Holy Wedlock 30 years, she caused him to be buried with his forefathers, and then placed this monument at her own expence, as a perpetual Memorial of their conjugal faith, and she united the figure of his body with hers, having resolwed that their bones and ashes should be laid together. He died 23rd Ap1. 1623, aged 54-She died - aged Garrick Plays. No. XXX. [From a "Woman's a Weathercock," a Comedy, by Nathaniel Field, 1612.] False Mistress. Scudmore alone; having a letter in his hand from Bellafront, assuring him of her faith. Scud. If what I feel I could express in words, To banish sadness from all love for ever. Thy frothy sex, and in thy single self The whole creation-. Who's there?-come in Nevill (entering.) What up already, Scudmore? Nev. What's this? a letter! sure it is not so- know You will not wrong my friendship, and your manners, To tempt me so. Nev. Not for the world, my friend. Good morrow Scud. Nay, Sir, neither must you I swear I love you better than all men, I leave you not in anger,-what d'ye mean ?— Why, they concern not me: if they be ill, And dangerous, 'twould grieve me much to know them; If good, they be so, though I know them not: Of that near touch, which your assured love Scud. How sweetly doth your friendship play with mine, And with a simple subtlety steals my heart That ever made a story, you are a man Nev. I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend. Scud. Nay, look you, this same fashion does not please me. And with the sudden whirlwind of thy breath You were not wont to make your visitation So short and careless. Nev. Tis your jealousy, That makes you think it so; for, by my soul, All things that might be burdensome, and oppress me.- And the morn faster goes away from me, That I go toward it: and so good morrow Scud. Good morrow, Sir. Think I durst show it you Nev. Now, by my life, I not desire it, Sir; Nor ever lov'd these prying list'ning men, That ask of others 'states and passages: Not one among a hundred but proves false, Envious and sland'rous, and will cut that throat He twines his arms about. I love that Poet, That gave us reading "Not to seek ourselves Beyond ourselves." Farewell. Scud. You shall not go. I cannot now redeem the fault I have made Nev. Now, if you love me, do not wrong me so; I see you labour with some serious thing, Scud. O you have pierced my entrails with your words, And I must now explain all to your eyes. (Gives him the Letter.) Read; and be happy in my happiness. Nev. Yet think on't; keep thy secret and thy friend A probable reason to distrust thy friend, If For God's sake, read; but with this caution,- Nev. I read it, fearless of the forfeiture :- Nev. This day this Bellafront, this rich heir Scud. I prithee do not mock me ;-married!— Nev. It is no matter to be plaid withal; But yet as true, as women all are false. Scud. O that this stroke were thunder to my breast, For, Nevill, thou hast spoke my heart in twain ; "That the music of the ancients," says Jeremy Collier, "could command farther than the modern, is past dispute. Whether they were masters of a greater compass of notes, or knew the secret of varying them the more artificially; whether they adjusted the intervals of silence more exactly, had their hands or their voices further improved, or their instruments better contrived; whether they had a deeper insight into the philosophy of nature, or understood the laws of the union of the soul and body more thoroughly; and thence were enabled to touch the passions, strengthen the sense, or prepare the medium with greater advantage; whether they excelled us in all, or in how many of these ways, is not so clear; however, this is certain, that our improvements in this kind are little better than ale-house crowds (fiddles) with respect to theirs," |