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and heifers that run in the orchard and ad- her children were visibly deteriorating in joining meadow, whilst the vacant rooms health and appearance, and pining for are tenanted by a widow in humble cir- them also ; and finding that her old sercumstances and her young family:

vant Dinah Miles was settled with her The house is beautifully situated ; deep, husband in this deserted farm-house, she as I have said, in a narrow woody lane, applied to his master to rent for a few which winds between high banks, now months the untenanted apartments, came feathered with hazel, now quickly studded to Aberleigh, and fixed there apparently with pollards and forest trees, until oppo- for life. site Kibe's Farm it widens sufficiently to We lived in different parishes, and she admit a large clear pond, round which the declined company, so that I seldom met hedge, closely and regularly set with a Mrs. Lucas, and had lost sight of her for row of tall elms, sweeps in a graceful some years, retaining merely a general curve, forming for that bright mirror, a recollection of the mild, placid, elegant rich leafy frame. A little way farther on mother, surrounded by three rosy, rompthe lane again widens, and makes an ing, bright-eyed children, when the arriabrupter winding, as it is crossed by a val of an intimate friend at Aberleigh broad shallow stream, a branch of the rectory caused ine frequently to pass the Loddon, which comes meandering along lonely farm-house, and threw this interestfrom a chain of beautiful meadows, then ing family again under my observation. turns in a narrower channel by the side of The first time that I saw them was on the road, and finally spreads itself into a a bright summer evening, when the nightlarge piece of water, almost a lakelet, ingale was yet in the coppice, the briaramid the rushes and willows of Hartly rose blossoming in the hedge, and the Moor. A foot-bridge is flung over the sweet scent of the bean fields perfuming stream, where it crosses the lane, which, the air. Mrs. Lucas, still lovely and elewith a giant oak growing on the bank, gant, though somewhat faded and careand throwing its broad branches far on worn, was walking pensively up and the opposite side, forms in every season a down the grass path of the pretty flower pretty rural picture.

court; her eldest daughter, a rosy bright Kibe's Farm is as picturesque as its brunette, with her dark hair floating in all situation; very old, very irregular, with directions, was darting about like a bird ; gable ends, clustered chimneys, casement now tying up the pinks, now watering the windows, a large porch, and a sort of geraniums, now collecting the fallen rose square wing jutting out even with the leaves into the straw bonnet which danporch, and covered with a luxuriant vine, gled from her arm, and now feeding a which has quite the effect, especially when brood of bantams from a little barley seen by moonlight, of an ivy-mantled measure, which that sagacious and active tower. On one side extend the ample but colony seemed to recognise as if by indisused farm buildings; on the other the stinct, coming long before she called them old orchard, whose trees are so wild, so at their swiftest pace, between a run and hoary, and so huge, as to convey the idea a fly, to await with their usual noisy and of a fruit-forest. Behind the house is an bustling impatience the showers of grain ample kitchen garden, and before a neat which she flung to them across the paling. flower court, the exclusive demesne of It was a beautiful picture of youth, Mrs. Lucas and her family, to whom in- health, and happiness; and her clear gay deed the labourer, John Miles, and his voice, and brilliant smile, accorded well good wife Dinah, serve in some sort as with a shape and motion as light as a butdomestics.

terfly, and as wild as the wind. A beau. Mrs. Lucas had known far better days. tiful picture was that rosy lass of fifteen Her husband had been an officer, and died in her unconscious loveliness, and I might fighting bravely in one of the last battles have continued gazing on her longer, had of the Peninsular war, leaving her with I not been attracted by an object nó less three children, one lovely boy and two de- charming, although in a very different licate girls, to struggle through the world way. as best she might. She was an accoin It was a slight elegant girl, apparently plished woman, and at first settled in a about a year younger than the pretty great town, and endeavoured to improve romp of the flower garden, not unlike her her small income by teaching music and in form and feature, but totally distinct in languages. But she was country bred; colouring and expression. her children too had been born in the She sat in the old porch, wreathed country, amidst the sweetest recesses of with jessamine and honeysuckle, with the New Forest, and pining herself for li. the western sun floating around her like a berty, and solitude, and green fields, and glory, and displaying the singular beauty fresh air, she soon began to fancy that of her chesnul hair brown with a golden

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light, and the exceeding delicacy of her flowers, which she had begun before her smooth and finely grained complexion, so mistoitune. Oh, it was almost worth pale, and yet so healthful. Her whole while to be blind to be the subject of such face and form had a bending and statue verse, and the object of such affection ! like grace, increased by the adjustment of Her dear mamma was very good to her, her splendid hair, which was parted on her and so was Emma! but William—oh she white forehead, and gathered up behind wished that I knew William! No one in a large kuot-a natural coronet. Her could be so kind as he! It was impossible! eyebrows and long eyelashes were a few He read to her; he talked to her; he shades darker than her hair, and singu- walked with her; he taught her to feel larly rich and beautiful. She was plait- confidence in walking alone ; he had made ing straw rapidly and skilfully, and bent for her use the wooden steps up the high over her work with a mild and placid bank which led into Kibe's Meadow attention, a sedate pensiveness that did not he had put the hand-rail on the old bridge, belong to her age, and which contrasted so that now she could get across without strangely and sadly with the gaiety of her danger, even when the brook was flooded. laughing and brilliant sister, who at this He had tamed her linnet; he had conmoment darted up to her with a handful structed the wooden frame, by the aid of of pinks and some groundsel. Jessy re- which she could write so comfortably and ceived them with a smile —such a smile ! evenly ; could write letters to him, and -spoke a few sweet words in a sweet say her ownself all that she felt of love sighing voice; put the flowers in her bo- and gratitude. And that,” she continued som, and the groundsel in the cage of a with a deep sigh, “ was her chief comlinnet that hung near her; and then re- fort now; for William was gone, and sumed her seat and her work, imitating, they should never meet again-never alive better than I have ever heard them imi —that she was sure of—she knew it.” tated, the various notes of a nightingale “ But why, Jessy ?“ Oh, because who was singing in the opposite hedge; William was so much too good for this whilst I, ashamed of loitering longer, world, there was nobody like William! passed on.

And he was gone for a soldier. Old The next time I saw her, my interest in General Lucas, her father's uncle, had this lovely creature was increased tenfold sent for him abroad—had given him a -for I then knew that Jessy was blind— commission in his regiment—and he would a misfortune always so touching, especial- never come home, at least they should ly in early youth, and in her case rendered never meet ain-of that she was sure peculiarly affecting by the personal cha. she knew it.” racter of the individual. We soon became This persuasion was evidently the masacquainted, and even intimate under the ter-grief of poor Jessy's life, the cause benign auspices of the kind mistress of that far more than her blindness faded her the rectory; and every interview served cheek, and saddened her spirit. How it to increase the interest excited by the had arisen no one knew ; partly, perhaps, whole family, and most of all by the from some lurking superstition, some idle sweet blind girl.

word, or idler omen which had taken root Never was any human being more gen- in her mind, nourished by the calamity tle, generous, and grateful, or more un which in other respects she bore so calmly, feignedly resigned to her great calamity. but which left her so often in darkness and The pensiveness that marked her charater loneliness to brood over her own gloomy arose as I soon perceived from a different forebodings; partly from the trembling source. Her blindness had been of recent sensibility, and partly from the delicacy occurrence, arising from inflammation of frame and of habit which had always unskilfully treated, and was pronounced characterised the object of her love-a incurable ; but from coming on so lately, slender youth, whose ardent spirit was but it admitted of several alleviations, of too apt to overtask his body. which she was accustomed to speak with However it found admitiance, there the a devout and tender gratitude. “ She presentiment was, hanging like a dark could work,” she said, 's as well as ever; cloud over the sunshine of Jessy's young and cut out, and write, and dress herself, life. Reasoning was useless. They know and keep the keys, and run errands in the little of the passions who seek to argue house she knew so well without making with that most intractable of them all any mistake or confusion. Reading, to the fear that is born of love; so Mrs. be sure, she had been forced to give up, Lucas and Emma tried to amuse away and drawing ; and some day or other she these sad thoughts, trusting to time, to would shew me, only that it seemed so William's letters, and, above all, to Wilvain, some verses which her dear broilier liam's return to eradicate the evil. William had written upon a group of wild These letters came punctually and gaily,

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letters that might have quieted the heart of her fearful calamity, and that fine sense any sister in England, except the fluttering quickened by anxiety, expectation, and heart of Jessy Lucas. William spoke of love, she heard, she thought she heard, improved health, of increased strength, of she was sure she heard the sound of a caractual promotion, and expected recal. At riage rapidly advancing on the other side last he even announced his return under of the stream. “ It is only the noise of auspices the most gratifying to his mother, the rushiny waters,” cried Emma. “I hear and the most beneficial to her family. The a carriage, the horses, the wheels !” reregiment was ordered home, and ihe old plied Jessy; and darted off at once, with and wealthy relation, under whose protec. the double purpose of meeting William, tion he had already risen so rapidly, had and of warning the postillion against crossexpressed his intention to accompany him ing the stream. Emma and her mother to Kibe's Fárm, to be introduced to his followed fast! fast! But what speed nephew's widow and daughters, especially could vie with Jessy's, when the object Jessy, for whom he expressed himself was William ? They called, but she neigreatly'interested. A letter from General ther heard nor answered. Before they Lucas himself, which arrived by the same had won to the bend in the lane she had post, was still more explicit : it adduced reached the brook; and, long before ei. the son's admirable character and exem- ther of her pursuers had gained the bridge, plary conduct as reasons for befriending her foot had slipt from the wet and totterthe mother, and avowed his design of ing plank, and she was borne resistlessly providing for each of his young relatives, · down the stream. Assistance was immeand of making William his heir.

diately procured ; men, and ropes, and For half an hour after the first hearing boats; for the sweet blind girl was beof these letters, Jessy was happy—till the loved of all, and many a poor man peril of a winter voyage (for it was deep perilled his life in a fruitless endeavour to January) crossed her imagination, and save Jessy Lucas; and William, too, was checked her joy. At length, long before there, for Jessy's quickened sense had not they were expected, another epistle arrived, deceived her-William was there, strug. dated Portsmouth. They had sailed by gling with all the strength of love and the next vessel to that which conveyed agony to rescue that dear and helpless their previous despatches, and might be creature; but every effort—although he expected hourly at Kibe's Farm. The persevered until he too was taken out voyage was past, safely past, and the senseless—every effort was vain. The weight seemed now really taken from fair corse was recovered, but life was exJessy's heart. She raised her sweet face tinct. Poor Jessy's prediction was veriand smiled : yet still it was a fearful and fied to the letter ; and the brother and his a trembling joy, and somewhat of fear favourite sister never met again.-From was mingled even with the very intensity the Bijou. of her hope. It had been a time of rain and wind; and the Loddon, the beautiful Loddon, always so affluent of water, had A SUNSET IN THE ÆGEAN. overflowed its boundaries, and swelled the smaller streams which it fed into torrents. After a passage of eight days, we The brook which crossed Kibe's Lane had arrived at Hydra from Candia.

We had washed away part of the foot-bridge, de- been creeping throngh the Archipelago at stroying poor William's railing, and was the rate of ten or twelve uniles in twentystill foaming and dashing like a cataract. four hours, and this chiefly when carried Now that was the nearest way; and if by the currents. Nothing that I know of William should insist on coming that way! can possibly compare with the tedium of To be sure, the carriage road was round such a voyage; day after day to be lagby Grazely Green, but to cross the brook ging under a burning sun, the sails clingwould save half a mile ; and William, ing to the mast, and the ropes and rigging dear William, would never think of dan: accurately reflected in the glassy sea ; not ger to get to those whom he loved. These an undulation to break the line formed on were Jessy's thoughts: the fear seemed the glowing timbers by the motionless waimpossible, for no póstillion would think ters; not a swirl at the rudder, not a ripof breasting that roaring stream; but the 'ple at the prow; with no variety of prosfond sister's heart was fluttering like a pect, save a few sun-scorched Islands, and new caught bird, and she feared she knew not a curl to warp the mirror of the ocean, not what.

nor a feather of a cloud to break the blue All day she paced the little court, and sameness of the sky: There were, howstopped and listened, and listened and ever, charms in the scene around us, stopped. About sunset, with the nice which not even the anxiety of the delay sense of sound which seemed to come with could render unattractive. The risings

THE FIRST USE OF THE CROSIER.

and settings of the sun were most superb; dently resolved to spite King Henry ; when in ine morning, his crimson beams burst- joining with others, he hunted the White ing through purple mists that wrapped the Hart, and having run it down, foolishly Ævian and its islands, and beaming down took the life of the King's favourite, and upon the still blue azure, till his rays deep- making merry over its haunches, was ls refracted in its bosom, made the whole heard in his cups to utter many disreseem one mass of azure pearl ; and when spectful things towards his sovereign, which at eve he again descended to the ocean, were conveyed to Henry, who presently through the cloudless heaven, and his couvinced De la Linde of his presumption, departing glories tipped with gold the and so highly resented the indignity, that lonely Cyclades, he appeared not to sink, he made every one concerned in the death but to melt away from the sky; whilst of the noble animal to pay into his Exhis fading brightness, gently spreading chequer an annual fine, called “ White over the heavens, seemed a drop of molten Hart Silver,” which was not remitted gold, blending in a lake of liquid purple. during the reign of that monarch. Froin But it is only the loveliness of the ocean this circumstance, we may date the origin and the sky that seem fadeless in the clime of the White Hart for a sign at the various of the East. I was much disappointed in inns and houses of entertainment throughthe beauty of the Cyclades; whether my out England. expectations had been too highly raised, or that the earth seemed to shrink from a comparison with the peerless splendour of

The crosier or crozier, is a symbol of this sky and ocean,

the Islands, thonghi.. pastoral authority, consisting of a gold general productive and fruitful, are sadly deficient in picturesque beauties. They occasionally before bishops and abbots,

or silver staff, crooked at the top, carried contain very few trees, and low lentiscas and held in the hand when they pronounce and mastics are all that seem to spring their solemn benedictions. The custom of above the beds of thyme that cover the bearing a pastoral staff is one of great parched soil. There are no rich tints and antiquity, as appears from the life of St. no glowing colours in the landscape ; and Cæsaria of Arles, who lived about the year a few neat while villages, a monastery 500. Among the Greeks none but the perched on a towering cliff, or the solitary patriarchs had a right to the crosier. Croruins of a desolate temple, are all that siers were at first no more than simple they contain, externally, of interest or ro

wooden staves, in form of a T, used to rest mance, independent of their classical asso

and lean upon. In course of time, they ciation.-Emerson's Greece in 1825.

were made longer, and at length arrived to the form we now see them of. The regular abbots on the continent are allowed

to officiate with a mitre and crosier. Illustrations of History.

Customs of Jarious BLACKMOOR Forest, at the spring of

Countries. the Froome, was once called the forest of White Hart, and at that time the seat of royalty ; it was much resorted to by our kings, on account of the great abundance

BULL OF ST. EDMOND'S BURY. of deer and other game. King Henry III. with a large retinue, having one day

Among the obsolete customs of this counentered the chase to enjoy the sport of try, the following is one that was practised, hunting, roused a milk white hart. The whenever a married woman was desirous creature afforded his Majesty so much pas

of conceiving. This white bull, who enjoy time, that, at the pulling down, it was the ed full ease and plenty in the fields of royal pleasure to save the beast, and place Habyrdor, never basely yoked to the round his neck a collar of brass on which plough, nor permitted to be cruelly baited

at the stake for the amusement of the peawas engraved :

santry, was led in procession through the I am a Royal Hart, let no one harm me !" principal streets of the town, viz. Church

Street, Guildhall Street, and Cook Row; But the King and his retinue having run of which the last led to the principal enover, and spoiled the lands of a gentle- trance of the monastery, attended by ail man of the county, named Thomas de la the monkish frateruity, singing, and a Linde, and refusing, upon remonstrance, to shouting crowd, the woman walking by make good the injury, Dela Linde impru. him, stroking his milk white side, and

ORIGIN OF THE WHITE HART AS A SIGN.

ANCIENT CEREMONY
OF MAKING AN OFFERING TO THE WHITE

led away,

pendant dew-laps. The bull then being My death’s heads will soon fill their

the woman entered the Church, empty stomachs and purses too. You and paid her vows at the altar of St. Ed- great fool! how did I take possession of mund, kissing the stone, and intreating Saxony? Not with my army, but with a with tears the blessing of a child. gold cabinet-key.”—Foreign Courts.

THE COPE TRIBUTE.

time ;

SINGULAR CUSTOM IN CHESHIRE.

AN EPIGRAM. The ancient custom of Cope, consists in

(For the Olio.) the paying a tribute due to the King, or lord of the soil, out of some portion of the

“ What should an epigram be like !" said Paul,

When sporting with his friend ; lead-mines in some part of Derbyshire.

An epigram should, like a cobler's awl, The word Cope signifies, and is some

Be sharpest at the end." times used for the supreme cover, as the “ Or, like two skilful players at cards,” said cope of heaven. This ancient custom

Paul,

" That have one object to attain; is illustrated as follows by an old wri

An epigram should cut, divide, and-all ter :

A double point to gain.”

P. Egress and ingress to the King's Highway The miners have, and lot and cope they pay, The thirteenth dish of ore within their mine,

MARSHAL LOUDON AND THE COBLER. To the lord for lot, they pay at measuring

The Marshal was a native of Scotland, Sixpence a load for cope the lord demands,

and entered youny, as a soldier of fortune, And this is paid to the burgh.master's hands.

into the service of the Elector of Bavaria, wherein he held the rank of captain. Hav

ing had the misfortune to kill his colonel At the Town of Northwich, in the in a duel, he was obliged to quit Bavaria is allowed, by the charter of that church, Prussia ; but Frederick the Great received county of Cheshire, a whimsical privilege very precipitately: He went to Berlin, and

requested a commission from the King of to the senior scholar of the grammar- him very cavalierly, and said to him, school ; ' namely, that he is to receive marriage fees to the same amount as the have more the air of a monk than of a

among other bad compliments—“ You clerk; or, instead thereof, the garters of

soldier ; and, besides, I have no fancy for the bride.

English officers.”

Loudon now made way for Vienna,

where he did his uimost to procure an apAnecdotiana

pointment from the Minister of War; but unsuccessfully : until at length, wearied of making applications, he left the capital, and look a lodging in one of the faubourgs,

at the house of a shoemaker named PanFrederick of Prussia, was wont to say, crace, where he remained some time in a “ No war was ever carried on without state of great destitution, and supported spies, and no administration without cor- by his landlord out of mere charity. It ruption;" and he certainly evinced his happened, at this epoch, that Marshal faith in this doctrine, by the measures he Daun, who commanded the Austrian army pursued His favourite, General Swieten, in Silesia, against the King of Prussia, who used to take considerable liberties on wrote to the Empress Maria-Theresa, and the strength of his favouritism, was bold to the Prince de Lichtenstein, to obtain enough to observe to the King, one day, good officers, accustomed to a war of parwhen the troops were in want of necessa- tisanship, having none such attached to his ries, and complaining,—that his Majesty corps. On a conference following tetween spent more money in spies than he did in the Empress and Prince, the latter bebread and clothing for his army, " You thought him of Loudon, who had been reare a fool!” answered the King," a down- presented to him as skilful in this particular right fool! One piece of information, of branch, but whom, he told the Empress, the worthof 500 rix dollars, has saved me it would now be difficult to find.-" Is he a million of money, and 10,000 men! in the Austrian dominions, think you ?" Don't talk to me of bread and clothing! inquired Maria-Theresa.

<“ There is no --talk to me of advancing without blood- doubt of it,” answered the Marshal. “ Well shed, and of saving my men.

Their then,” rejoined her Majesty, “ I think we wants will be easily supplied when I may get at him. Give orders to post up know where the enemy's magazines are. a description of this same Loudon, and

FREDERICK THE GREAT AND GENERAL

SWIETEN.

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