Appearance of the Heart of Lord Edward Bruce. In consequence of a tradition, that the heart of lord Edward Bruce had been sent from Holland, and interred in the vault or burying-ground adjoining the old abbey church of Culross, in Perthshire, sir Robert Preston directed a search in that place in 1808, with the following result.-Two flat stones, without inscription, about four feet in length and two in breadth, were discovered about two feet below the level of the pavement, and partly under an old projection in the wall of the old building. These stones were strongly clasped together with iron; and when separated, a silver case, or box, of foreign workmanship, shaped like a heart, was found in a hollow or excavated place between them. Its lid was engraved with the arms and name "Lord Edward Bruse;" it had hinges and clasps; and when opened, was found to contain a heart, carefully embalmed, in a brownish coloured liquid. After drawings were taken of it, as represented in the present engravings, it was carefully replaced in its former situation. There was a small leaden box between the stones in another excavation; the contents of which, whatever they were originally, appeared reduced to dust. Some time after this discovery, sir Robert Preston caused a delineation of the silver case, according to the exact dimensions, with an inscription recording its exhumation and re-deposit, to be engraved on a brass plate, and placed upon the projection of the wall where the heart was found.* It is a remarkable fact, that the cause of the quarrel between lord Bruce and sir Edward Sackvile has remained wholly undetected, notwithstanding successive inves tigations at different periods. The last was conducted by the late lord Leicester, and several gentlemen, whose habits and love of investigation are equally well known, but they were unable to discover the slightest clue to the object of their anxious and diligent inquiry. Lord Clarendon, in his "History of the Rebellion," records the combat as an occurrence of magnitude, from its sanguinary character and the eminence of the parties engaged in it. He does not say any thing respecting the occasion of the feud, although lord Bruce's challenge seems to intimate that it was matter of public notoriety. HEART BURIAL, During the rebuilding of part of the church of Chatham, Kent, in 1788, there was found in one of the vaults a leaden pot, containing, according to an inscription, the heart of a woman, one Hester Harris. The pot appeared to have been nailed up to the side of the vault, there being a piece of lead soldered on for that purpose.t Archeologia, xx. 515. † Gent. Mag. 1789, POETICAL QUID PRO QUO. A Greek poet frequently offered little compliments to Augustus, with hopes of some small reward. His poems were 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 customary panegyric, presented his lines to the bard with surprising gravity. The poor man took and read them, and with appa rent delight deliberately drew forth two farthings, and gave them to the emperor, saying, "This is not equal to the demands of your situation, sire; but 'tis all I have: if I had more I would give it to you." Augustus could not resist this; he burst into laughter, and made the poet a handsome present. 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 was unknown to the Greeks and Romans. Mr. Fosbroke says the men used the girdle, and the women their bosom ; and that Strutt thinks the scrip, and purse, or bag, were succedanea. The Anglo-Saxon and Norman women wore pocketting sleeves; and sleeves with pockets in them, mentioned by DuCange, Matthew Paris, Malmesbury, and Knighton, were searched, before the wearers could be admitted to the royal presence. Sleeve pockets are still worn by the monks in Portugal. POCKET HANDKERCHIEFS. ! These useful appendages to dress were certainly not in use with the Greeks. The most ancient text wherein handkerchiefs are expressly mentioned, describes them as long cloths, called oraria, used and worn by senators" ad emungendum et exspuendum;" that use is said to have grown out of the convenience of the orarium, which is supposed to have been merely used at first to wave for applause in the public shows. Mr. Fosbroke presumes it to have been the "swat-cloth" of the AngloSaxons; for one called mappula and manipulus was then worn on the left side to wipe the nose. In subsequent ages there [From the "Triumphant Widow," a Comedy, by the Duke of Newcastle, 1677.] Humours of a Thief going to Execution. Officers. Room for the prisoner there, room for the prisoner. Footpad. Make room there; 'tis a strange thing a man cannot go to be hanged without crowding for it. 1st Fellow. Pray, Sir, were not you a kin to one Hinde? Footpad. No; I had run faster away then. 2d Fellow. Pray, prisoner, before your death clear your conscience, and tell me truly, &c. (all ask him questions about robberies.) Margery. I am sure you had my Lady's gilt caudle cup. Footpad. Yes, and would have kept it; but she has it again, has she not? James. And the plate out of my buttery Footpad. Well, and had she not it again? what a plague would you have? you examine me, as if you would hang me, after I am hanged. Pray, officers, rid me of these impertinent people, and let me die in quiet. 1st Woman. O lord! how angry he is! that shews he is a right reprobate, I warrant you. Footpad. I believe, if all of you were to be hanged, * A noted Highwayman in those days. 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 his 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. 1st 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 1st Woman. By my truly, methinks now he is a very proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day. Footpad. Aye, so are all that are hanged; the gallows adds a great deal of grace to one's person. 2d Woman. I vow he is a lovely man; 'tis pity he 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 Officer. 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 drirk out a stand of ale by and by. 1st 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 so this 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 too 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 my escape, and so I heartily repent it, and so I die with this true confession. 1st Woman (weeping). 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. Yes, I have been preparing for you these many years. 1st Woman. Mercy on him, and save his better part. Officer. A reprieve! how came that? 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 shew you no sport this day. Cred. O did you so? then that debt is as it were Footpad. No, I thank you; I am not so merrily paid; I'll cross it out. disposed. Hangman. Come, are you ready? Debt. By no means; you shall have it, or I vowCred. Well, Sir, as you please. Debt. I vow I would ne'er have borrowed of you nis, or lambs' skins. The last of these, again, as long as you lived-but proceed Cred. Another time one hundred Debt. O, that was to send into France to my wife to bring her over, but the Queen would not part with her then; and since, she is fallen sick Cred. Alas! Debt. But pretty well recovered which still forms the lining of the hoods of the bachelors of arts at Cambridge, was anciently worn both by bishops and noblemen. For the first, see Mr. Warton's note on 'Comus,' edit. i. p. 146; and the inventory of the wardrope of the second earl of Cumberland in that volume. With re Cred. These four sums make up four hundred gui spect to budge, or buget, it is understood FURS.-TIPPETS AND SCARFS. Dear sir,-Dr. Whitaker, in his " History of Craven," makes several extracts from the Compotus of Bolton in Craven, a folio of a thousand pages, kept by the monastery; which book begins in 1290 and ends in 1325. On one item, "In fururâ de Buget, vs.," the doctor has the following note, which may be interesting to others besides the lovers of the delightful science of heraldry. "In Fururâ de Buget. In the middle ages, fur of different species formed an elegant and comfortable appendage, not only to professional habits, but to the ordinary dress of both sexes, from the sovereign to the private gentleman. Beneath the latter rank, none but the coarsest kinds were ever in use, which they certainly wore; for Chaucer, who intended to clothe his personification of Avarice in the garb of Poverty, allows her, notwithstanding, " a burnette cote, furred with no meniveere, but with a furre rough of lambe skynnes, hevy and blacke.' (Rom. Ros.) The different sorts enumerated in the Compotus are, the buget, or budge, gris, de ventre leporino, the white fur of the hare's belly, and de pellibus agni by Mr. Warton (note on Comus, line 709) to be fur in general; but this interpretation is negatived by the terms of the present article, furura de buget. Whatever budge may have been, it is unknown to Du Cange, who has, with immense labour and erudition, collected every thing known on the subject in the middle ages. It was certainly scarce and expensive, being used for the lining of the prior's (Bolton) hood alone. After all, I suspect it to have been the skin of the Lithuanian weasel.* Even as late as Dr. Caiius's time, the hoods of the regent masters of arts of Cambridge were lined 'pelle arminâ seu Lituana candida.' Lituan is sometimes used by the old writers on heraldry as synonymous with ermine. If I am right in my conjecture, therefore, budge so nearly resembled ermine, that either skin might be used indifferently as a badge of the same academical rank. And this accounts for Milton's epithet budge, as applied to doctors, whose congregation robes at Cambridge are still faced with ermine. Gris, I think, was the skin of the grey, or badger. sleeves of Chaucer's monk, a fayre prelate,' who was gayly and expensively habited, were purfited with gris' and in the head of a bishop in painted glass, I have a fine specimen of this fur in the form of a tippet about the neck. The "It seems that, in the middle ages, ecclesiastics were apt to luxuriate in the use of beautiful and costly furs: Ovium itaque et agnorum despiciuntur exuviæ; ermelini, gibelini (sables) martores exquiruntur et vulpes.' This vanity was checked by an English sumptuary law- Statutum est ne quis escarleto, in Anglorum gente, sabelino, I have since discovered that budge is the same with "shanks," one of the many kinds of fur enumerated in the statute of the 24th Hen. VIII.; that is, a very delicate white skin stripped from the legs of a fine haired kid, and almost equal in value, as well as in appearance, to ermine. It is not impossible that the name may have been derived from the verb "budge," as the legs are the instruments of locomotion. See Minshew, in voce Furre. Note to second edit. Whitaker's Craven. + In the dialect of Craven, cornfactors or millers are called badgers. Why is this?-the derivation in Mr. Carr's work, "Hora Momenta Cravena," Teut. Ratsen discurrere, seems to me very far-fetched. I am inclined to think that millers obtained the name from the colour of their clothes. T. Q. M. vario, vel griseo uteretur,' Brompton, Anno 1188. Again, in two MSS. quoted by Du Cange, to whom I am also indebted for the foregoing passage, the expensive furs are enumerated thus, Vairs et gris, et ermines, et sables de rosie :" and again, Sables, ermines, et vair, et gris.' Vair was the skin of the Mus Ponticus, a kind of weasel, the same animal with the ermine, but in a different state, i. e. killed in summer when the belly was white and the back brown, whence it obtained the name of Varia. The ancient mineveere was 'minuta varia,' or fur composed of these diminutive skins; and Drayton was learned and accurate when he gave his well-dressed shepherd 'mittons* of bauson's skin; that is, of gris, and a hood of mineveere. With respect to sables, I have only. to add, that from their grave and sober elegance, they were retained as tippets in the habits of bishops and other dignitaries in England to the time of queen Elizabeth, when they gave place to a similar ornament of silk, the origin of the present scarf, which continued to be called a tippet till the reign of Charles II. See Baxter's life, where we find that puritan, when sworn in king's chaplain, refusing to wear the tippet." I am, &c. When ev'ning call'd us round the hearth, And storms disturb'd the wintry air; What merry tales of social mirth Have issued from this old arm chair. With summer's toil and heat o'ercome, When weary nature sought repair; Oft has he thrown his languid frame, Exhausted, in this old arm chair. When adverse fortune cross'd his road, And bow'd him down with anxious care; How has he sigh'd beneath the load, When seated in this old arm chair. But death long since has clos'd his eyes; And fills no more this old arm chair. Ev'n that which does those scenes recall, Which age and wasting worms impair; Must shortly into pieces fall, And cease to be an old arm chair. Yet while its smallest parts remain, My fancy shall behold him there; And memory stir those thoughts again, Of him who fill'd the old arm chair. |