memoration of the victory over the English; and high mass was performed, and the sacrament administered to the whole party. During the service, a scenic representation was given of the Assumption of the Virgin. A scaffolding was raised, reaching nearly to the top of the dome, and supporting an azure canopy intended to emulate the "spangled vault of heaven ;" and about two feet below the summit of it appeared, seated on a splendid throne, an old man as the image of the Father Almighty, a representation equally absurd and impious, and which could alone be tolerated by the votaries of the worst superstitions of pepery. On either side four pasteboard angels, of the size of men, floated in the air, and flapped their wings in cadence to the sounds of the organ; while above was suspended a large triangle, at whose corners were placed three smaller angels, who, at the intermission of each office, performed upon a set of little bells the hymn of "Ave Maria gratiâ Dei plena per Secula," &c., accompanied by a larger angel on each side with a trumpet. To complete this portion of the spectacle, two others, below the old man's feet, held tapers, which were lighted as the services began, and extinguished at their close; on which occasions the figures were made to express reluctance by turning quickly about; so that it required some dexterity to apply the extinguishers. At the commencement of the mass, two of the angels by the side of the Almighty descended to the foot of the altar, and, placing themselves by the tomb, in which a pasteboard figure of the virgin had been substituted for her living representative, gently raised it to the feet of the Father. The image, as it mounted, from time to time, lifted its head and ex tended its arms, as if conscious of the approaching beatitude; then, after having eceived the benediction, and been encircled by another angel with a crown of glory, it gradually disappeared behind the clouds At this instant a buffoon, who all the time had been playing his antics below, burst into an extravagant fit of joy; at one moment clapping his hands most violently, at the next stretching himself out as if dead. Finally he ran up to the feet of the old man, and hid himself under his legs, so as to show only his head. The people called him Grimaldi, an appellation that appears to have belonged to him by usage; and it is a singular coincidence, that the surname of the noblest family of Genoa the Proud, thus assigned by the rude rabble of a seaport to their buffoon, should belong of right to the sire and son, whose mops and mowes afford pastime to the upper gallery at Covent-garden. Thus did the pageant proceed in all its grotesque glory; and, while These laboured nothings in so strange a style Amazed th' unlearned, and made the learned smile, the children shouted aloud for their favourite Grimaldi; the priests, accompanied with bells, trumpets, and organs, thundered out the mass; the pious were loud in their exclamations of rapture at the devotion of the virgin, and the whole church was filled with a hoarse and confused murmuring sound. The sequel of this, as of most other similar representations, was a hearty dinner This adoration of the virgin, sc pr valent in Romish worship, is adverted t in a beautiful passage of "Don Roderick. How calmly gliding through the dark blue sky The midnight moon ascends! Her placid beams, Through thinly scattered leaves and boughs grotesque, Mottle with mazy shades the orchard slope; Here, o'er the chesnut's fretted foliage grey And massy, motionless they spread; here shine Upon the crags, deepening with blacker night Their chasis; and there the glittering argentry Ripples and glances on the confluent streams. A lovelier, purer light than that of day Rests on the hills; and oh, how awfully Into that deep and tranquil firmament The summits of Auseva rise serene ! The watchman on the battlements partake The stillness of the solemn hour; he feels The silence of the earth, the endless sound Of flowing water soothes him, and the stars, Which in that brightest moonlight well nigh quenched, Of yonder sapphire infinite are seen, Musing on worlds beyond the grave he stands, Southey NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature... 63. 62. August 16. CHRONOLOGY August 16, 1678, died Andrew Marvel, a man who "dared be honest in the worst of times." He was the son of a clergyman at Hull in Yorkshire, where he was born in 1620. In 1633, he was sent to Trinitycollege, Cambridge; in 1657, he became assistant to Milton in his office of Latin secretary to Cromwell; and at the restoration he was chosen to represent his native town in the house of commons. His conduct was marked by inflexible adherence to the principles of liberty, and his wit as a writer was levelled at the corruptions of the court; yet Charles II. courted his society for the pleasure of his conversation. He lived in a mean lodging in an obscure court in the Strand, where he was visited by lord Danby, at the desire of the king, with his majesty's "equest, to know in what way he could serve him; Marvel answered, it was not in the king's power to serve him. Lord Danby in the course of conversation assured him of any place he might choose; Marvel replied, he could not accept the offer without being unjust to his country by betraying its interests, or ungrateful to the king by voting against him. Before lord Danby took leave he told him his majesty had sent him a thousand pounds as a mark of his private esteem. Marvel did not need the assurance; he refused the money, and after his noble visiter departed, borrowed a guinea which he wanted of a friend. This great man after having served his constituents for twenty successive years in parliament, was buried at their expense in the church of St. Gilesin-the-Fields. NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature. .62 65. August 17. BALL AND CROSS OF ST. PAUL'S. August 17, 1736, died Mr. Niblet, master of the copper mills at Mitcham, Surrey, renowned in the "Gentleman's made the ball and cross of St. Paul's ca Magazine," and in this column, for having thedral, London.* NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature ... 6352 August 18. CHRONOLOGY. August 18, 1746, William, earl of Kilmarnock, aged forty-two, and Arthur, baron Balmerino, aged fifty-eight, were beheaded on Tower-hill, as traitors, for levying war against king George II., in behalf of the pretender. At the foot of a flight of stairs in the tower, lord Kilmarnock met lord Balmerino, and embracing him said, "My lord, I am heartily sorry to have your company the sheriffs gave receipts for their bodies in this expedition." At the Tower-gates, to the lieutenant, who, as usual, said, earl of Kilmarnock bowed; lord Balme"God bless king George," whereon the They were preceded by the constable of rino exclaimed, "God bless king James." the Tower hamlets, the knight-marshal's men, tipstaves, and the sheriff's officers, the sheriffs walking with their prisoners, followed by the tower warders, and a guard of musqueteers. Two hearses and a mourning coach terminated the procession, which passed through lines of foot soldiers to the scaffold on the south side • Gentleman's Magazine 1097 THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.-AUGUST 18. of the hill, around which the guards formed an area, and troops of horse wheeled off, and drew up in their rear five deep. The lords were conducted to separate apartments in a house facing the scaffold, and their friends admitted to see them. The rev. Mr. Hume, a near relative of the earl of Hume, with the rev. Mr. Foster, an amiable dissenting minister, who never recovered the dismal effect of the scene, assisted the earl of Kilmarnock; the chaplain of the tower, and another clergyman of the church of England accompanied lord Balmerino, who on entering the house, hearing several of the spectators ask, "which is lord Balmerino?" answered with a smile, "I am lord Balmerino, gentlemen, at your service." Earl Kilmarnock spent an hour with Mr. Foster in devotional exercises, and afterwards had a conference with lord Balmerino, who on their taking leave said, "My dear lord Kilmarnock, I am only sorry that I cannot pay this reckoning alone: once more farewell for ever!" As lord Kilmarnock proceeded to the scaffold attended by his friends, the multitude showed the deepest signs of pity and commiseration. Struck by the sympathy of the immense assemblage, and the variety of dreadful objects on the stage of death, his coffin, the headingblock, the axe, and the executioners, he turned to Mr. Hume and said, "Hume! this is terrible," but his countenance and voice were unchanged. The black baize over the rails of the scaffold was removed, that the people might see all the circumstances of the execution, and a single stroke from the headsman, separated him from the world. Lord Balmerino in the mean time having solemnly recommended himself to the Supreme Mercy, conversed cheerfully with his friends, took wine, and desired them to drink to him "ane degree ta haiven." The sheriff entered to inform him that all was ready, but was prevented by the lordship inquiring if the affair was over with lord Kilmarnock. "It is," said the sheriff. He then inquired, and being informed, how the executioner performed his office, observed, "It was well done;" turning himself to the company, he said, "Gentlemen I shall detain you no longer," and saluted them with unaffected cheerfulness. He mounted the scaffold with so easy an air, as to astonish the spectators. No circumstance in his whole deportment showed the least fear or 66 1098 regret, and he frequently reproved his friends for discovering either, upon his account. He walked several times round the scaffold, bowed to the people, went to his coffin, read the inscription, and with a nod, said “it is right;" he then examined the block, which he called his pillow of rest." Putting on his spectacles, and taking a paper out of his pocket, he read it with an audible voice, and then delivering it to the sheriff, called for the executioner, who appearing, and being about to ask his lordship's pardon, he interrupted him with "Friend, you need not ask my forgiveness, the execution of your duty is commendable,' "9 and gave him three guineas, saying, "Friend, I never was rich, this is all the money I have now, and I am sorry I can add nothing to it but my coat and waistcoat," which he then took off, together with his neckcloth, and threw them on his coffin. Putting on a flannel waistcoat, provided for the purpose, and taking a plaid cap out of his pocket, he put it on his head, saying he died "a Scotchman." knelt down at the block, to adjust his posture, and show the executioner the signal for the stroke. Once more turning to his friends, and looking round on the crowd, he said, "Perhaps some may think my behaviour too bold, but remember, sir, (said he to a gentleman who stood near him,) that I now declare it is the effect of confidence in God, and a good conscience, and I should dissemble if I should show any signs of fear." He Observing the axe in the executioner's hand as he passed him, he took it from him, felt the edge, and returning it, clapped the executioner on the shoulder to encourage him. He then tucked down the collar of his shirt and waistcoat, and showed him where to strike, desiring him to do it resolutely, for "in that," said his lordship, "will consist your kindness." Passing to the side of the stage, he called up the wardour, to whom he gave some money, asked which was his hearse, and ordered the man to drive near. enough to wound him very deep; another blow immediately given rendered him insensible, and a third completed the work of death. Lord Balmerino had but a small estate. His lady came to London, and frequently attended him during his confinement in the Tower. She was at dinner with him when the warrant came for his execution the Monday following. Being very much shocked, he desired her not to be concerned. "If the king had given me mercy," he said, "I should have been glad of it; but since it is otherwise, I am very easy, for it is what I have expected, and therefore it does not at all surprise me." She was disconsolate, and rose immediately from table; on which he started from his chair, and said, " Pray, my lady, sit down, for it shall not spoil my dinner." It is acted in the "Historical Chronicle" of the "Gentleman's Magazine," on the nineteenth of August, 1755, under the head, "Strond," that at that time there were such quantities of earwigs in that vicinity that they distroyed not only the flowers and fruits, but the cabbages, were they ever so large. The houses, especially the old wooden buildings, were swarming with them. The cracks and crevices were surprisingly full, they dropped out in such multitudes that the floors were covered; the linen, of which they are very fond, were likewise full, as was also the furniture, and it was with caution that people eat their provisions, for the cupboards and safes were plentifully stocked with the disagreeable intruders. NATURALISTS' CALENDAR Mean Temperature. . . . 62 72. • Gentleman's Magazine. August 20. CHRONOLOGY. On the twentieth of August, 1589, James VI, of Scotland afterwards James I. of England married the princess Anne She became the mother of the ill-fated of Denmark, daughter to Frederick II. Charles I. LOVE TOKENS. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, It was the custom in England in "olden tyme," as the ancient chronicles have it, for "enamoured maydes and gentil women," to give to their favourite swains, as tokens of their love, little handkerchiefs about three or four inches square, wrought round about, often in embroidery, with a button or tassei a: each corner, and a little one in the centre. The finest of these favours were edged with narrow gold lace, or twist; and then, being folded up in four cross folds, so that the middle might be seen, they were worn by the accepted lovers in their hats, or at the breast. These favours became at last so much in vogue, that they were sold ready made in the shops in Elizabeth's time, from sixpence to sixteen-pence a piece. Tokens were also given by the gentlemen, and accepted by old comedy of the time :— their fair mistresses; thus ascribed in an Given earrings we will wear H. M. LANDer. King's Bench Walk, Temple. For the Every-Day Book. Love Lane. "Tis fitter now to ease the brain, To take a quiet walk in a green lane. Byron. This observation of our matchless bard, the idol and delight of our own times, though just, few I fear follow--either from want of inclination, or what is as bad, want of time. But there are some whose hours of toil, mental and bodily, do not preclude them from seeking the tranquil haunts of nature. With me, after nervous irritability and mental excitement, it has been, and is a favourite en oyment, to quit the dusky dwellings of man, and wander among the fields and green lanes of our southern shore, while the sun is declining, and stillness begins to settle around. Listlesssly roving, whither I cared not, I have sauntered along till I felt my unquiet sensations gradually subside, and a pleasing calmness steal upon me. I know of nothing more annoying than that nervous thrilling or trembling, which runs through the whole frame after the mind has been troubled; it seems to me like the bubbling and restless swell of the ocean after a storm-one mass of fretful and impatient water, knowing not how to compose itself. But to come to the green fields. There is a lane leading from the grove at Camberwell called Love-lane; it is well so called-long, winding, and quiet, with scenery around beautifully soft-the lover might wander with the mistress of his soul for hours in undisturbed enjoyment. This lane is dear to me, for with it is linked all my early associations-the bird-the butterfly -the wild white rose-my first love. The bird is there still, the butterfly hovers there, and the rose remains; but where is my first love? I may not ask. Echo will "where!" yet I may in imagination behold her I call up the shadowy joys of former times, and like the beautiful vision in "Manfred," she stands before me : but answer, A thousand recollections in her train What happy feelings have been ours in that quiet lane! We have wandered arm in arm, gazed on the scenery, listened to the bird. We have not spoken, but our eyes have met, and thoughts too full for utterance, found answers there. Those days are gone; yet I love to wander there alone, even now; to press the grass that has been pressed by her feet, to pluck the flower from the hedge where she plucked it, to look on the distant hills that she looked on, rising in long smooth waves, when not a sound is heard save the "kiss me dear," which some chaffinch is warbling to his mate, or the trickling of waters seeking their sandy beds in the hollows beneath the hedgerows. strolled thither a few evenings ago: the sun I was softly sinking, and the bright crimson which surrounded him, fading into a faint sable clouds; the night-cloud was adorange, tinged here and there with small vancing slowly darkly on; afar in the horizon were The light-ships of the sky One bird, the lark, was singing his evening song among the cool grass; softly, sweetly, it died away, and all was silent deep tranquillity; a pleasing coolness came on the faint breeze over the neighbouring fields, pregnant with odours, refreshing as they were fragrant. It was twilight; the green of the distant hills changed to a greyish hue, their outlines were enlarged, the trees assumed a more gigantic appearance, and soft dews began to ascend; faint upshootings of light in the eastern horizon foretold the rising of the moon; she appeared at length above to come with her, as if nature, like man the clouds, and a deeper stillness seemed at the presence of a lovely women, was hushed into silent admiration; the grey clouds rolled away on each side of her as rolls the white foam of the ocean before the bows of the vessel; her course was begun, and, "Silently beautiful, and calmly bright |