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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 inves1808, 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 knowi), 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 exhuma. tion 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

The old robbers, in the “good old times," man took and read them, and with appa

when purses were carried in the hand or rent delight deliberately drew forth two

borne at the side, cut them away, and carfarthings, and gave them to the emperor,

ried them off with the contents, and hence

In the saying, “ This is not equal to the demands they were called “cut-purses.

scarce “ History of Highwaymen,” by your situation, sire; but 'tis all I have: 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,

No. XXXI. and the women their bosom; and that Strutt thinks the scrip, and purse, or bag, were succedanea. The Anglo-Saxon aná Nore (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 Fellor. Pray, Sir, were not you a kin to one Hindepe

Footpad. No; I had run faster away then.

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

your conscience, and teH 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 candle most ancient text wherein handkerchiefs cup. are expressly mentioned, describes them as Footpad. Yes, and would have kept it; but she bas 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 you 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

Ist Woman. O lord I how angry he is! that shows

he is a right reprobate, I warrant you. Saxons; for one called mappula and mani.

Footpad. I believe, if all of you were to be hanged, pulus was then worn on the left side to wipe the nose. In subsequent ages there • A noted Highwayman ip those days.,

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to you.

which I hope may be in good time, you would not be Footpad. Yes, I have been preparing for you these very merry.

many years. 24 Woman. Lord, what a down look he has !

Ist Woman. Mercy on him, and save his better part. Ist Womar. Aye, and what a cloud in his forehead, 9d Woman. You see what we must all come to. goody Twattle, mark that

(horn blows a reprieve.) 2d Woman. Aye, and such írowning wrinkles, I

Oficer. A reprieve 1 how came that? warran! you, not so much as a smile from him.

Post. My Lady Hanghty procured it. Footpad. Smile, quoth she ! Tho' tis sport for you,

Footpad. I will always say, while I live, that her 'tis none for me, I assure you.

Ladyship is a civil person. : Ist Woman. Aye, but 'tis so long before you are

1st Fellow. Pish, what must he not be hanged now? hanged.

2d Fellow. What, did we come all this way for this ? Footpad. I wish it longer, good woman.

Ist Woman. Take all this pains to see nothing? Ist Fellow. Prithee, Mr. Thief, let this be a warning

Footpad. Very pious good people, I shall shew you to you for ever doing the like again.

Do sport this day. Footpad. I promise you it sball.

2d Woman. That's well; thank you with all my heart, lal that was spoken like a precious godly man 310W.

1st Woman. By my truly, methinks now he is a [From " Mamamouchi," a Comedy, bv very proper man, as one shall seo in a summer's day.

Edward Ravenscroft, 1675. Footpat. Aye, so are all that are banged; the gal. lows adds a great deal of grace to one's person.

Foolish Lender. 2d Woman. I vow he is a lovely man ; 'tis pity be

Debtor, As to my affairs, you know I stand indebted should be taken away, as they say, in the flower of his age. Ist Officer. Come, dispatch, dispatch; what a plague

Creditor. A few dribbling sums, Sir. shall we stay all day, and neglect our business, to hang

Debt. You lent 'em me very frankly, and with a

great deal of generosity, and much like a gentleman. one thief?

Cred. You are pleased to say so. 2d Oficer. Pray, be hanged quickly, Sir; for I am

Debt. But I know how to receive kindnesses, and to to go to a Fsir hard by.

make returns according to the merits of the person that Ist Officer. And I am to meet some friends to drick out a stand of ale by and by.

obliges me.

Cred. No man better. •Ist Woman. Nay, pray let him speak, and die like a

Debt. Therefore pray let's see how our accounta Christian.

stand. 2d Woman. 0, I have heard brave speeches at tbis

Cred. They are down here in


table book. place before.

Debt. I am a man that love to acquit myself of all Fontpad. Well, good people if I may be bold to

obligations as soon call you so—this Pulpit was not of my chusing. I

Cred. See the memorandum. shall shortly preach mortality to you without speak.

Debt. You have set it all dowa. ing, therefore pray take example by me, and then I

Cred. All kaow what will become of ye. I will be, I say, your

Debt. Pray readmemento mori, hoping you will all follow me.

Cred. Lent, the second time I saw you, one hundred Ist Fellow. O he speaks rarely.

guineas. 8d Fellow. Aye, does Latin it.

Debt. Right.
Footpad. I have been two covetous, and at last Cred. Another time fifty.
taken for it, and am very sorry for it. I have been & Debt. Yes.
great sinner, and condemned for it, which grieves me Cred. Lent for a certain occasion, which I did not
not a little, that I made not ny escape, and so I tell you, one hundred and fifty.
heartily repent it, and so I die with this true confes Debt. Did I not ? that I should conceal any thing


1st Woman (wecping). Mercy on him, for a better Cred. No matter.
man was nerer hanged.

Debt. It looks like mistrust, which is a wrong to 2d Woman. So true and hearty repentance, and so friendship pious.

Cred. O Lord ! 2d Fellow. Help him up higher on the ladder. Now Debt. I am so ashamed - for I dare trast my soul yon are above us all.


I borrowed it, to lend a person of quality, Footpad. Truly I desire you were all equal with

whom I employed to introduce me to the King, add reme; I have no pride in this world.

commend to his particular favour, that I might be 1st Fellow. Will you not sing, Sir, before you are able to do you service in your

affairs. hanged ?

Cred. O did you so ? then that debt is as it wero Footpad. No, I thank you ; I am not so merrily paid ; I'll cross it oat. disposed.

Debt. By no means; yon shall have it, or I vowHangman. Come, are you ready?

Cred. Well, Sir, as you please.




Debt. I vow I would ne'er have borrowed of younis, or lambs' skins. The last of these,

which still forms the lining of the hoods of again, as long as you lived--but proceed

the bachelors of arts at Cambridge, was Cred. Another tire one hundred

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 7090 Debt. Just as can be; a very good account. Put

to be fur in general; but this interpretation down two handred 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 erudi Debt. It is to make up a suin 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 Credo O, by no means

alone. Debl. You need but tell me, if it will be any trou

After all, I suspect it to have been

the skin of the Lithuanian weasel.* Even Cred. Lord, Sir, that you will think 80

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 arminå 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 bear of it, that I did not ask


with ermine. If I am right in my conjec. Cred. It is a great honour.

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

ermine, that either skin might be used in." differently 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.t The tory of Craven," makes several extracts sleeves of Chaucer's monk, 'a fayre prefrom the Compotus 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 ihe 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 furura 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 delight- siastics were apt to luxuriate in the use of ful science of heraldry. “ In Fururá de Buget.

beautiful and costly furs : Ovium itaque

In the middle ages, fur of different species formed an ele- gibelini (sables) martores exquiruntur et

et agnorum despiciuntur exuviæ ; ermelini, gant and comfortable appendage, not only vulpes. This vanity was checked by an to professional habits, but to the ordinary English sumptuary law— Statutum est ne dress of both sexes, from the sovereign to

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

white skin stripped from the legs of a fine haired kid, cation of Avarice in the garb of Poverty, and almost equal in value, as well as in appearance, to allows her, notwithstanding, a burnette ermine. 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

Note to second edit. Whitaker's Craren. 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 'Moinenta Cravenæ," Teut. Rator budge, gris, de ventre leporino, the white sen discurrere, seems to me very far-fetched. I am four of the hare's bally, and de pellibus agni

inclined to think that millers obiained the name froa the colour of their lothes. T. Q. M.


and again,

Isle of Ely,


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 amus

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 end 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

Yours obediently, the back brown, whence it obtained the pame 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 ‘miltons 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,
I am, &c.

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

When ev'ning calld 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 ;

Oft has he thrown bis langnid frame, London, there were, in the first division,

Exhausted, in this old arm chair. the budge bachelors marching in measured order.”+ These budge-bachelors go

When adverse fortune cross'd his road, in the “Lord Mayor's Show” to the present

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

How has be sigh'd beneath the lond, 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

A grassy turf is seen to rise, implying, that his beard and habit were of

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

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

Which age and wasting worms impair
Most 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 them :

My fancy shall behold him there ; they knit them with common wood skewers. T. Q.M. + See the “ London Pageant" of 1690, in " Jone on

And memory stir those thoughts agaio, Missteries."

Or Kira who filld the old arm chair.

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