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In consequence of a tradition, that the brass plate, and placed upon the projection heart of lord Edward Bruce had been sent of the wall where the heart was found.* from Holland, and interred in the vault or It is a remarkable fact, that the cause of burying-ground adjoining the old abbey the quarrel between lord Bruce and sir church of Culross, in Perthshire, sir Robert Edward Sackvile has remained wholly unPreston directed a search in that place in detected, notwithstanding successive inves. 1808, with the following result. Two flat tigations at different periods. The last was stones, without inscription, about four feet conducted by the late lord Leicester, and in length and two in breadth, were disco- several gentlemen, whose habits and love vered about two feet below the level of the of investigation are equally well known, pavement, and partly under an old projec- but they were unable to discover the slighttion in the wall of the old building. These est clue to the object of their anxious and stones were strongly clasped together with diligent inquiry. Lord Clarendon, in his iron; and when separated, a silver case, or “History of the Rebellion," records the box, of foreign workmanship, shaped like a combat as an occurrence of magnitude, heart, was found in a hollow or excavated from its sanguinary character and the emiplace between them. Its lid was engraved nence of the parties engaged in it. He with the arms and name “ Lord Edward does not say any thing respecting the occaBruse;" it had hinges and clasps ; and sion of the feud, although lord Bruce's when opened, was found to contain a heart, challenge seems to intimate that it was carefully embalmed, in a brownish coloured matter of public notoriety. liquid. After drawings were taken of it, as represented in the present engravings,

HEART BURIAL, it was carefully replaced in its former

During the rebuilding of part of the situation. There was a small leaden box church of Chatham, Kent, in 1788, there between the stones in another excavation;

was found in one of the vaults a leaden pot, the contents of which, whatever they were containing, according to an inscription, originally, appeared reduced to dust.

the heart of a woman, one Hester Harris. Some time after this discovery, sir Robert The pot appeared to have been nailed up Preston caused a delineation of the silver to the side of the vault, there being a piece case, according to the exact dimensions, of lead soldered on for that purpose.t with an inscription recording its exhumation and re-deposit, to be engraved on a Archæologia, XX. 515. + Gent. Mag. 1789

POETICAL QUID PRO QUO. was the manuariolum, one carried in the

hand during summer, on account of perA Greek poet frequently offered little spiration. Queen Elizabeth wore handkercompliments to Augustus, with hopes of chiefs of party-coloured silk, or cambric, some small reward. His poems were edged with gold lace. worthless and unnoticed, but as he persisted in his adulation, Augustus amused himself with writing an epigram in praise of the poet, and when he received the next

PICKPOCKETS. customary panegyric, presented his lines to the bard with surprising gravity. The poor when purses were carried in the hand or

The old robbers, in the “good old times," man took and read them, and with appa- borne at the side, cut them away, and carrent delight deliberately drew forth two farthings, and gave them to the emperor,

ried them off with the contents, and hence saying, “ This is not equal to the demands they were called “ cut-purses.” In the

scarce of your situation, sire, but 'tis all I have:

“ History of Highwaymen," by if I had more I would give it to you." Smith, there is a story of a ludicrous priAugustus could not resist this; he burst

vate robbery, from “ the person” of a man, into laughter, and made the poet a hand- mistakenly committed by one of these cutsome present.

purses. One of Shakspeare's rogues, Autolycus, says, that “to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary

for a cut-purse." Of course, “ pickpockets" POCKETS.

are of modern origin; they “came up" with

the wearing of pockets. Mr. Gifford relates the preceding anecdote, in a note on his Juvenal, from Macrobius. He makes the poet draw the farthings from his “pocket:" but the pocket Garrick Plays. was unknown to the Greeks and Romans. Mr. Fosbroke says the men used the girdle, and the women their bosom; and that Strutt

No. XXXI. thinks the scrip, and purse, or bag, were succedanea. The Anglo-Saxon and Nor- [From the “ Triumphant Widow," a Coman women wore pocketting sleeves; and

medy, by the Duke of Newcastle, 1677.] sleeves with pockets in them, mentioned by DuCange, Matthew Paris, Malmesbury, and

Humours of a Thief going to Execution. Knighton, were searched, before the wear

Officers. Room for the prisoner there, room for the ers could be admitted to the royal presence. prisoner. Sleeve pockets are still worn by the monks Footpad. Make room there; 'tis a strange thing a in Portugal.

man cannot go to be hanged without crowding for it.

1st Fellow. Pray, Sir, were not you a kin to one Hinder.

Footpad. No; I had run faster away then.

2d Fellow. Pray, prisoner, before your death clear

your conscience, and tell me truly, &c. These useful appendages to dress were (all ask him questions about robberics.) certainly not in use with the Greeks. The Margery. I am sure you had my Lady's gilt ca udle most ancient text wherein handkerchiefs cup. are expressly mentioned, describes them as Footpad. Yes, and would have kept it; but she has long cloths, called oraria, used and worn it again, has she not ? by senators “ ad emungendum et exspuen

James. And the plate out of my butterydum;" that use is said to have grown out

Footpad. Well, and had she not it again ? what a of the convenience of the orarium, which plague would you have ? you examine me, as if yon is supposed to have been merely used at

would hang me, after I am hanged. Pray, officers, rid first to wave for applause in the public

me of these impertinent people, and let me die in shows. Mr. Fosbroke presumes it to have quiet. been the “swat-cloth” of the Anglo- he is a right reprobate, I warrant you.

1st Woman. O lord ! how angry he is! that shevs Saxons; for one called mappula and manipulus was then worn on the left side to

Footpad. I believe, if all of you were to be hanged, wipe the nose. In subsequent ages there

* A noted Highwayman in those days.

Footpad. Yes, I have been preparing for you these many years.

Ist Woman. Mercy on him, and save his better part, 2d Woman. You see what we must all come to.

(horn blows a reprieve.) Officer. A reprieve ! how came that ? Post. My Lady Hanghty procured it.

Footpad. I will always say, while I live, that her Ladyship is a civil person.

1st Fellow. Pish, what must he not be hanged now? 2d Fellow. What, did we come all this way for this? 1st Woman. Take all this pains to see nothing ?

Footpad. Very pious good people, I shall show you no sport this day,

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[From “ Mamamouchi," a Comedy, by

Edward Ravenscroft, 1675.

Foolish Lender,

Debtor. As to my affairs, you know I stand indebted

to you.

which I hope may be in good time, you would not be very merry

2d Woman. Lord, what a down look he has !

1st Woman. Aye, and what a cloud in Lis forehead, goody Twattle, mark that,

2d Woman. Aye, and such frowning wrinkles, I warrant you, not so much as a smile from him.

Footpad. Smile, quoth she ! Tho' tis sport for you, 'tis none for me, I assure you.

Ist Woman. Aye, but 'tis so long before you are hanged.

Footpad. I wish it longer, good woman.

1st Fellow. Prithee, Mr. Thief, let this be a warning to

you for ever doing the like again. Footpad. I promise you it shall.

2d Woman. That's well; thank you with all my heart, la! that was spoken like a precious godly man HOW.

1st Woman. By my truly, methinks now he is very proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day.

Footpad. Aye, so are all that are hanged; the gal. lows adds a great deal of grace to one's person.

2d Woman. I vow he is a lovely man ; 'tis pity ho should be taken away, as they say, in the flower of his age.

1st Officer. Come, dispatch, dispatch; what a plague shall we stay all day, and neglect our business, to hang one thief?

2d Oficer. Pray, be hanged quickly, Sir; for I am to go to a Fair hard by.

1st Officer. And I am to meet some friends to drink out a stand of ale by and by.

Ist Woman, Nay, pray let him speak, and die like a Christian.

2d Woman. O, I have heard brave speeches at this place before.

Footpad. Well, good people-if I may be bold to call you somthis Pulpit was not of my chusing. I shall shortly preach mortality to you without speak. ing, therefore pray take example by me, and then I know what will become of ye. I will be, I say, your memento mori, hoping you will all follow me.

1st Fellow. O he speaks rarely. 2d Fellow. Aye, does Latin it.

Footpad. I have been tco covetous, and at last taken for it, and am very sorry for it. I have been a great sinner, and condemned for it, which grieves me not a little, that I made not iny escape, and so I heartily repent it, and so I die with this true confession.

1st Woman (wecping). Mercy on him, for a better man was never hanged.

2d Woman. So true and hearty repentance, and so pious.

2d Fellow. Help him up higher on the ladder. Now you are above us all.

Footpad. Truly I desire you were all equal with me; I have no pride in this world.

1st Fellow. Will you not sing, Sir, before you are hanged ?

Footpad. No, I thank you; I am not so merrily disposed.

Hangman, Come, are you ready?,

Creditor. A few dribbling sums, Sir.

Debt. You lent 'em me very frankly, and with a great deal of generosity, and much like a gentleman.

Cred. You are pleased to say so.

Debt. But I know how to receive kindnesses, and to make returns according to the merits of the person that obliges me.

Cred. No man better,

Debt. Therefore pray let's see how our accounts stand. Cred. They are down here in my

table book. Debt. I am a man that love to acquit myself of all obligations as soon —

Cred. See the memorandum.
Debt. You have set it all down?
Cred. All.
Debt. Pray read-

Cred. Lent, the second time I saw you, one hundred guineas.

Debt. Right.
Cred. Another time fifty.
Debt. Yes.

Cred. Lent for a certain occasion, which (I did not tell you, one hundred and fifty.

Debt. Did I not? that I should conceal any thing from


friend! Cred. No matter.

Debt. It looks like mistrust, which is a wrong to friendship

Cred. O Lord !

Debt. I am so ashamed !-for I dare trust my soul with you. I borrowed it, to lend a person of quality, whom I employed to introduce me to the King, and recommend to his particular favour, that I might be able to do

you service in your affairs. Cred. O did you so ? then that debt is as it were paid ; I'll cross it out.

Debt. By no means; you shall have it, or I vow
Cred. Well, Sir, as you please..



Debt. I vow I would ne'er have bórrowed of you nis, or lambs' skins. The last of these, again, as long as you lived-but proceed

which still forms the lining of the hoods of Cred. Another time one hundred

the bachelors of arts at Cambridge, was Debt. O, that was to send into France to my wife to anciently worn both by bishops and noblebring her over, but the Queen would not part with her

For the first, see Mr. Warton's note then ; and since, she is fallen sick

on 'Comus,' edit. i. p. 146; and the inCred. Alas!

ventory of the wardrope of the second earl Debt. But pretty well recovered

of Cumberland in that volume. With reCred. These four sums make up four hundred gui- spect to budge, or buget, it is understood

by Mr. Warton (note on Comus, line 709) Debt. Just as can be; a very good account. Put to be fur in general; but this interpretation down two hundred more, which I will borrow of you

is negatived by the terms of the present now; and then it will be just six hundred : that is, if article, furura de buget. Whatever budge it will be no inconvenience to you

may have been, it is unknown to Du Cange, Cred. Euh, not in the least

who has, with immense labour and erudiDebt. It is to make up a sum of two thousand

tion, collected every thing known on the pounds, which I am about to lay up in houses I have

subject in the middle ages. It was cerbought; but if it incommode you, I can have it else

tainly scarce and expensive, being used for where

the lining of the prior's (Bolton) hood Cred. O, by no meanse

alone. After all, I suspect it to have been Debt. You need but tell me, if it will be any trou

the skin of the Lithuanian weasel.* Even ble Cred. Lord, Sir, that you will think som

as late as Dr. Caiius's time, the hoods of Debt. I know some will be glad of the occasion to the regent masters of arts of Cambridge serve me; but these are favours only to be asked of

were lined pelle arminâ seu Lituana canspecial friends. I thought you, being my most

dida. Lituan is sometimes used by the esteemed friend, would take it ill, if you should come

old writers on heraldry as synonymous to hear of it, that I did not ask you first

with ermine. If I am right in my conjecCred. It is a great honour,

ture, therefore, budge so nearly resembled C.L.

ermine, that either skin might be used indifferently as a badge of the same academi

cal rank. And this accounts for Milton's FURS.TIPPETS AND SCARFS,

epithet budge, as applied to doctors, To the Editor,

whose congregation robes at Cambridge

are still faced with ermine. Gris, I think, Dear sir, Dr. Whitaker, in his " His

was the skin of the grey, or badger.f The tory of Craven,” makes several extracts sleeves of Cháucer's monk, 'a fayre prefrom the Coinpotus of Bolton in Cra

late,' who was gayly and expensively ven, a folio of a thousand pages, kept by

habited, were 'purfited with gris :' and the monastery; which book begins in 1290

in the head of a bishop in painted glass, I and ends in 1325. On one item, “ In

have a fine specimen of this fur in the form fururâ de Buget, vs.,” the doctor has the

of a tippet about the neck. following note, which may be interesting

“ It seems that, in the middle ages, eccleto others besides the lovers of the delightful science of heraldry.

siastics were apt to luxuriate in the use of

beautiful and costly furs: 'Ovium itaque In Fururâ de Buget. In the middle

et agnorum despiciuntur exuviæ ; ermelini, ages, fur of different species formed an elegant and comfortable appendage, not only

gibelini (sables) martores exquiruntur et to professional habits, but to the ordinary

vulpes. This vanity was checked by an dress of both sexes, from the sovereign to

English sumptuary law~-Statutum est ne

quis escarleto, in Anglorum gente, sabelino, the private gentleman. Beneath the latter rank, none but the coarsest kinds were ever * I have since discovered that budge is the same with in use, which they certainly wore; for Chau “shanks," one of the many kinds of fur enumerated in cer, who intended to clothe his personifi

the statute of the 24th Hen.VIII.; that is, a very delicate cation of Avarice in the garb of Poverty,

white skin stripped from the legs of a fine haired kid,

and almost equal in value, as well as in appearance, to allows her, notwithstanding, a burnette


It is not impossible that the name may have cote, furred with no meniveere, but with a

been derived from the verb “budge," as the legs are

the instruments of locomotion. See Minshew, in voce furre rough of lambe skynnes, hevy and Furre. Note to second edit. Whitaker's Craven. blacke.' (Rom. Ros.) The different sorts

+ In the dialect of Craven, cornfactors or millers are enumerated in the Compotus are, the buget,

called badgers. Why is this?-the derivation in Mr.

Carr's work, “Horæ Momenta Cravenæ," Teut. Rator budge, gris, de ventre leporino, the white sen discurrere, seems to me very far-fetched. I am fur of the hare's belly, and de pellibus agni- the colour of their elothes. T. Q. M.

inclined to think that millers obtained the name from


vario, vel grisèo uteretur, Brompton, Anno

DAIRY POETRY. 1188. Again, in two MSS. quoted by Du Cange, to whom I am also indebted for the

To the Editor. foregoing passage, the expensive furs are enumerated thus,

Sir,--You may perhaps think the “Old *Vairs et gris, et ermines, et sables de rosie :'

Arm Chair” worthy a place in your amusand again,

ing columns. It is the production of a "Sables, ermines, et vair, et gris.'

self-taught, or natural genius, like BloomVair was the skin of the Mus Ponticus, a

field, living in the fens of this place, and kind of weasel, the same animal with the carrying on the business of a small dairy

man. ermine, but in a different state, i. e. killed in summer when the belly was white and

Isle of Ely,

Yours obediently, the back brown, whence it obtained the name of · Varia. The ancient mineveere

Aug. 14, 1827.

M. W. was 'minuta varia,' or fur composed of these diminutive skins; and Drayton was

THE OLD ARM CHAIR. learned and accurate when he gave his

See Table Book, vol. i. p. 786. well-dressed shepherd mittons* of bauson's skin ;' that is, of gris, and a hood of mine

What recollections of the past, With respect to sables, I have only Of scenes gone by, and days that were, to add, that from their grave and sober Crowd through my mind whene'er I cast elegance, they were retained as tippets in A look upon my father's chair. the habits of bishops and other dignitaries in England to the time of queen Elizabeth, How often have I climb'd his knees when they gave place to a similar ornament To pat his cheek, and stroke his hair; of silk, the origin of the present scarf, The kind paternal kiss to seize, which continued to be called a tippet till

When seated in this old arm chair. the reign of Charles II. See Baxter's life, where we find that puritan, when sworn

And much of monitory lore, in king's chaplain, refusing to wear the

Which bade me of the world beware; tippet.

His tongue has utter'd o'er and o'er,

When seated in this old arm chair.
T. Q. M.

When ev'ning call'd us round the hearth,

And storms disturbid the wintry air;
What merry tales of social mirth

Have issued from this old arm chair.

With summer's toil and heat o'ercome,
In the old lord mayors' processions of

When weary nature sought repair; London, there were, in the first division,

Oft has he thrown his langnid frame,

Exhausted, in this old arm chair. the " budge bachelors marching in measured order.”! These budge-bachelors go in the “ Lord Mayor's Show” to the present

When adverse fortune cross'd his road,

And bow'd him down with anxious care; day, dressed in blue gowns trimmed with

How has he sigh'd beneath the load, budge coloured fur, white. Bishop Corbet,

When "seated in this old arm chair. in his “ Iter Boreale," speaks of a most officious drudge,

But death long since has clos'd his eyes; His face and gown drawn out with the same budge; And peacefully he slumbers, where implying, that his beard and habit were of

A grassy turf is seen to rise,

And fills no more this old arm chair. like colour. Budge-row, Cannon-street, according to Stow, was so called of budge

Ey'n that which does those scenes recall, fur, and of skinners dwelling there."

Which age and wasting worms impair ;
Must shortly into pieces fall,

And cease to be an old arm chair, * Mittons are gloves with no fingers, having

only & place for the thumb. They are much worn in Craven, and the Scotch shepherds, many of whom are con Yet while its smallest parts remain, stantly there, earn a little money by the sale of themi :

My fancy shall behold him there; they knit them with common wood skewers. T.Q.M. + See the “London Pageant" of 1680, in " Hone on

And memory stir those thoughts again, Mysteries."

Of him who fill'd the old arm chair.

I am, &c.


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