"Away with thy priestcraft," cried Roger with scorn,
"We will dance, we will jest, we will revel till morn!
Nay, to punish thy pride, and throw shame on thy face,
Instead of the Green, we will dance in this place!
Over the gravestones and over the dead!"

66 Ay, ay,'

"all his revelling company said.

All but one-and he was the young Amourduile;
The rest of the band could not hear-could not feel.
"Dear Matilda," cried he, "oh! quit, love, this place!"
But she jeer'd at his fears, and laugh'd in his face,
"Go, coward," she said, "go pray if you will,
Give me dance and high revel the sunbeams until."
And now each brave youth has a fair partner led
To dance o'er the gravestones and over the dead;
And loud shouted Roger, and Sibyl laugh'd high,
As over the tombs and the flesh-grass they fly.
And holy St. Francis went mutt'ring away,

Ay-dance on for ever-for ever, for aye!"

Then revell'd they on, and the moon she shone bright,
And still they dance on, as departed the night;
And then fathers and mothers and elders so grey
Pray'd in vain that they 'd stop, in vain that they'd stay.
They laugh'd at their fathers, they jeer'd at the grey,
And all went with jokes or profaneness away.

Still they danced-still they danced, but now nothing said!
As they rush'd o'er the gravestones and over the dead.
No laughter's now heard—no revel-no jeer-

They seem'd not to see, or to feel, or to hear!

The maidens look'd pale, and no cheek there was red,
As they flew o'er the gravestones and over the dead.
The morning-blush now had just dappled the sky,
Still o'er the churchyard-ah! fastly they fly!
The villagers gazed on the horrible band,

And speechless-and motionless-spiritless stand.
Some pray-some lament-some weep, and some kneel,
When rush'd from the village the young Amourduile.
"Matilda! Matilda, oh! stop thee," he cried;
"Oh! quit soon this horrible motion, my bride."
She stopp'd not a moment, and nothing she said,
But flew o'er the gravestones and over the dead;
And on rush'd the band with the swiftness of light,
And whirl'd round and round in the villager's sight.
In young Amourduile rush'd—the band soon came round.
He flew to Matilda, and caught her fast round.
She was icy-his blood thrill'd-but still he held fast,
And on rush'd the horrible company past,
And on swept Matilda-with fright and alarm
He found he clasp'd still but a skeleton-arm!
Then vanish'd the band-though that night every year
Their dance you may see-their shrieks you may hear-
There lash'd by fierce spirits, they sweep on till morn,
Who treated God's day and his servants with scorn.
There the Skeleton Dance may be seen, it is said,
Dance over the tombstones and over the dead.

L.

A FEW THOUGHTS ON SMALL-TALK.

THE Science of small-talking is as valuable as it is difficult to be acquired. I never had the least aptitude for it myself, yet Heaven knows the labour I have bestowed in order to master it. It is not that I have nothing to say; but when I am in company a sort of spell seems to hang over me, and I feel like some fat sleeper who has a vision of thieves, and dreams that he cannot call out for assistance. It is in vain that I observe others, and endeavour to imitate them; a shallow-headed chatterer will make himself agreeable in society, while I sit by in silence. I have taken very considerable pains in my time to observe the various kinds of small-talk, with a view of turning my knowledge to some account; but, though the scheme has totally failed in my own person, a few remarks upon the subject may not be useless to others.

I hold it to be an incontrovertible truth, that every subject is to be best treated of distributivè, under proper divisions and subdivisions. In pursuance of this plan, I shall distribute all small-talk into two species, I. General small-talk; II. Special, or professional small-talk. The former class includes the small-talk which we hear in mixed society, where men and women, young and old, wise and foolish, are all mingled together. In the latter division I would include the small-talk of persons of the same profession or mode of life, as between two apothecaries, two dissenters, two lawyers, two beggars, two reviewers, two butchers, two statesmen, two thieves, &c. &c. &c.; in short, all conversations which are tinctured with the art, craft, mystery, occupation, or habits of the interlocutors.

And, first, of General Small-talk. However simple the art of general small-talking may seem, and however plain and intelligible the topics may be upon which it is employed; yet, in fact, it is more difficult than the special kind. The materials out of which it is formed are few in number, and easily accessible. The following is a pretty complete assortment. The weather-the health of your friends-the funds-any accidents which have happened to any of your acquaintances, such as deaths or marriages-the King-Bonaparte-Lord Byron-the cheapness of meat-any watering-place-the corn-bill-the author of Waverleyand the theatre. These are the coin that will pass current in any society. Thus, in a morning call, if two strangers happen to be left together, how agreeably they may pass the time in enlarging upon the above topics. "A very hot day, Sir!" "Yes, indeed, Sir; my thermometer stood 80 in the shade. Pray, Sir, are you related to the Rev. Jeremiah Jollison? I hope he is well."-"I am his brother, Sir: he died two years ago."-" God bless me! but it's more than two years since I saw him. Pray, Sir, what do you think of Spanish bonds?" &c. &c. Such is the conversation you generally hear after dinner (before dinner there is none), in stage-coaches, at hotels, and at watering-places. It is most suitable for adults. The grand difficulty in this kind of smalltalk is to discover any subject; for as I imagine it to be a metaphysical truth, that the mind cannot, 'ex mero motu suo, call up any subject it pleases, the dialogue must necessarily depend on the power of association in the brain of the individuals who maintain it. It requires great presence of mind to call up a sufficient number of topics to meet a sudden emergency. Thus, when you meet a friend in the street, who, in

spite of your attempts to pass him with a nod, will stop and speak to you, how awkward is it to have nothing to say! This happens to me continually. When you have shaken hands, and the one has said, “A fine day," and the other, "Yes, very," you stand for a few moments gazing with a vacant sort of look upon one another, shake hands again, and part. The same accident sometimes happens in morning calls. After having exhausted all the common-places of civility, you feel yourself suddenly run on shore. It is in vain you attempt to think of some subject of discourse; the longer you search, the further you are from it; except the conviction that you can find nothing to talk about, your mind is a tabula rasa. Your guest at last rises, and puts you out of

your agony.

There are some people, however, who have a genius for small-talk. Their stock seems boundless. It is no matter where, or with whom, or upon what, they are talking; still it flows on and on "in one weak washy, everlasting flood." It is a great infliction to be the only person in company with these inveterate small-talkers. Their discourse

makes one's head ache. It is like the perpetual dropping of water upon the crown of one's pericranium. To me, however, such people, if their conversation is not addressed to me, are a great relief. They save me the trouble of attempting to talk, and the mortification of a failure.

Every one must have occasionally experienced the up-hill, heartbreaking labour of talking to an impenetrable person. "Well, what sort of a day had you?" said I, to a lively friend of mine. "Oh! my dear Peter," said he, "I had the ill luck to be seated at dinner next to the dreariest young lady you ever did not talk with. She seemed to be afraid lest, if she opened her mouth, jewels and roses would fall from it, and she should lose them. I did do all that might become a man.' I tried her with Lord Byron--I tried her with Moore-I tried her with the theatre-I tried her with Walter Scott-I tried her with the ParkI tried her with Albert-with Noblet-with Mrs. Hannah Moore--with the tread-wheel-the frost-quadrilles-lancers-Sir Charles Grandison, and Spanish boleros."-"Ah! but, my dear friend," said I, "did you try her with dress? Did you tell her of the Valenciennes lace which you brought over the other day in the collar of your coat? I see where your mistake lay. Instead of talking to her of books, you should have talked of book-muslin. You should have discoursed of milliners instead of authors, of flounces instead of poems."-You occasionally meet with the same sort of people in stage-coaches. "Beautiful country this we are travelling through, Sir?" "Yes, Sir."-" Fine cattle this stage, Sir." "Yes, Sir."—"Did you get any sleep in the night, Sir ?” "No, Sir."-"Did you see the papers before we set off, Sir?" "No, Sir!" and so the conversation terminates.

II. Of Special Small-talk: and, first, of such as is purely professional. Under this head I include the conversation of persons who are of the same profession or occupation, and who therefore speak a kind of language peculiar to their craft, and frequently unintelligible to the rest of the world. Physicians, lawyers, and merchants, may be taken as examples.

There is something particularly piquant in the small-talk of gentlemen of the medical profession. I well recollect the conversation of two young surgeons, who were sitting in the next box to me in a coffee-house near

Great Marlborough-street. "Oh, by the by, Jenkins, I got the finest subject yesterday you ever saw. "Ay! where did you get it?"— "From France, to be sure, and never saw a fellow so neatly packed; by Jove, he was as round as a ball."-"What was the damage?"— "Oh, the fellow who sent him me, said if I would send him back the hamper full of beef, he should be satisfied; so I sent him a trifle.""Have you any part to spare? (Waiter, another chop)."-" Why, you may have a limb reasonable."-"Well, then, next week; but just at present I have got a very pretty small subject."-" What did you give?"" Two shillings an inch, but the cursed fellow had pulled the child's neck almost out of joint, to make it an inch longer. But didn't I tell you of the fun we had at Br's? You know we had that fellow who was hanged on Wednesday for murdering his grandmother. Well, he was devilishly ill hanged, and so we thought we'd galvanize him. We got the battery ready (you know it's a pretty strong one), and, as soon as ever it was applied, the fellow-(but won't you have some more porter? (Waiter, another pint of port!) the fellow lifted up his brawny arm and threw it twice across his breast. The pupils were all delighted, but our Irishman O'Reilly-you know O'Reilly, who nearly got into a scrape with cracking the crown of the sexton at St. Pancras O'Reilly, who was standing by with a stout board in his hand, no sooner saw this motion, than, not quite understanding the affair, and fearing that the fellow was actually coming to life again, he caught him a thwack on the side of the head, which made the cerebellum ring again. Is it he's going to walk?' cried Paddy-thwack' and shall justice be defated ?-thwack- and shall I be chated out of my shaving money?*-thwack- By Jasus I've floored him!'" Capital!" cried Jenkins, "I wish I had been there. But have you heard of Astley Cooper's operation?"-"No, what was it?" Why, he whipped off a child's leg in thirty-eight seconds and a half; the child didn't know what he was about, and only asked what was tickling it so."-" Clever that, by Jove. Do you hear who is likely to get St. Thomas's?"" Why, some say Dr. A. and some say Dr. B. I know B.'s friends have subscribed for thirty new governors. Have you seen the new tourniquet?"-" No, but I'm told it's clever; what do you think of the Moxa ?"—" A deal of humbug."—" Have you a small skull ?”

"Yes, I've two."—" Will you lend me one ?"-"Oh, certainly.". "By the by, where do you get your knives from?"" From Millikin's."" And your books?""I always go to Callow's."-" By the by, (whiff, whiff,) I think you hav'nt changed your dissecting coat, have you?""Hush, hush! the people about you will hear-they all think now that it's the woodcock, a little too gamy in the next box."-This was quite sufficient for me: I had been for some time aware of a strange odour, but I had laid it to the account of the woodcock. No sooner, however, did I discover the true origin of it, than, throwing down my money and seizing my hat, I hastily sought the open air.

I was once a good deal amused with hearing the chit-chat of two young gentlemen of the long robe. You must know, sir, that I had a sort of cousin seven times removed, who used to reside in a court in

I have since discovered that the Surgeon receives a crown for shaving and dressing a subject previous to dissection.

the Middle Temple. Poor fellow! he could play the violin beautifully; but as for Coke and Selden, and such people-he troubled them not. Well, sir, I occasionally visited my young relation, and by his kind offices with the very precise lady who holds the key of the Temple gardens, I was admitted whenever I chose to walk in that green retreat. I had seated myself, one warm summer's evening, on one of the benches at the back of the western alcove, when two learned young friends meeting at the entrance and adjourning into the arbour, I had the good fortune to be an auditor of the following dialogue. "What, Styles, my good fellow! Why I didn't know you were back from sessions.How did you get on?"-"Infernally, infernally! Only got four souptickets* at, and a single prosecution at Do you know of a small set of sky-parlours to let, for, by heavens, I shall be ruined!" "What, you are determined then to rise in your profession! ha, ha, not so bad!"-"Why you see, my dear Vidian, I don't make quite enough to pay Danby for dressing my wig, which is rather distressing. But come-let's sit down."(Here the learned gentlemen seated themselves.) "By the by, Styles, have you heard of Gillebrand's nonsuit?-all owing to bad spelling. He put an s too much in the plaintiff's name, which has cost that unfortunate gentleman about one hundred and twenty pounds. Good fun that.-Gillebrand argued, that it was idem sonans, but the judge would not believe him—

And forever must he dwell

In the spirit of that spell.

But come cheer up, my good fellow, and shew that you have some of 'the blood of the Styles't in your veins. I dare say if you can't get upon the Bench, you may get into it-Not so bad, eh?—Oh, have you heard the new anecdote of Mr. Justice Spark, which is flying about the Temple? I told it myself to nine men this morning. You must know that when the learned Judge was on his last circuit, an unfortunate dog was tried before him for some offence that was not capital: however, as soon as the jury had brought in their verdict, Rhadamanthus seized hold of the black cap, and was pulling it over his terrific brows, when the officer of the court interfered, My lord! my lord! the offence isn't a capital one.' 'Oh yes! very true,' said his lordship, but-but-you know, it's a good thing to terrify the prisoner a little.' Very ingenious that of his lordship.-But why don't you laugh, Styles?""In fact, my dear Vidian, I am not altogether in a laughing mood. There is a cursed fellow of a tailor in New Bond Street, who threatens to maintain assumpsit against me for goods sold and delivered -then the stable-keeper in Carey Street presented me the other day with a Declaration, in which I find that I am charged with the hire of fifty horses, fifty mares, fifty stanhopes, fifty tilburys, and fifty dennets: and to crown all, a well-dressed man who resides in Chancery-lane has got a present for me, which you and I know by the name of a Special Original. Oh what a special fool was I to give those bills to

Upon enquiry, I find that soup-tickets are vocabula artis, signifying briefs given indiscriminately by the town clerks, &c. at sessions.

+ The genealogical tree of this noble family may be seen fully set out in the second volume of Blackstone's Commentaries.