mode of life was rendered more difficult by the close alliance of the French knights, which, as we have already noticed, had for its object the suppression of the Companies. Nor did the English afford him any effectual support, there being a truce between the kingdoms at the time. At length he intrusted himself to the confidence of one of his kinsmen, called Turnemine, who delivered him up to the French. When he was brought to Paris, Marcell offered threescore thousand francs for his ransom. The cold reply was, that the king was rich enough.

The brigand was dragged on a cart to the Halles, and, being first exposed on the pillory, was afterwards hanged and quartered, his quarters being placed over the gates of the city.

These two leaders of banditti, their sentiments, and their fate, may serve to give you some idea of the life they led, and the manner in which France was finally relieved of them."

INN YARDS.

THE GOLDEN CROSS-CHARING CROSS.

"Tho gan I loke about and se That there come entrying into the hall A right grete companie withall, And that of sondrie regions, Of all kind of condicions."

HOUSE OF FAME.

To the Editor of the Olio. SIR-Most of your readers are acquainted with the movements in popular 'inn yards,' in the milder months of the year; but, they may not have visited such an active revolution as is effected in the Christmas time in the courtyards and offices of the 'Golden Cross, Charing Cross. As many persons in the neighbourhood of St. Martin, are busily engaged with their 'houses about their ears,' so the approaches to this coach depot, are enough to appal the 'insides and 'outsides,' necessarily connected with 'going down' and 'coming up.' I had occasion to be detained the other day, in and about this spot, and just at the postman's ever.ing hour, when the greasy slipping beneath, the hazy moon above, and the fog around, gave me an opportunity to be 'observant pedestrian,' without caring for the policeman's approach with his 'hasty stare,' in his oilcased shoulders, and one eye strapped in front of his 'bread box.' The din of carriage wheels and busy 'hum of street literature,' with the advancing and

an

The

receding of the coachmen's goggling orbs, fairly looking all objects on each side of the road, 'out of countenance,' that the horses might speed their ways unobstructed, for a while, drew off my attention from the immediate purpose of my visit here. A rush of wheels, clatter of feet, and the cry,-why the d-1 d'ye stand there, gaping?' led me into a closer view of the 'sayings and doings,' emblematically, worthy of notice, and I divested my oracular capabilities of the coarser materials of this immaterial 'Cross' of fluxions and refluxions, by admitting to my perceptions the more substantial fares which keep the parts of life together. 'coffee room' was sprinkled with ladies and gents waiting, and being waited on, for a change of passage, and some being drowsy, and others impatient, their relative feelings gave me an idea of their hopes and fears.* Well muffled, well clad, and well fitted for travel, they were evidently out of their element, till in the pursuit of 'journeying mercies.' Once, twice, and thrice, was the 'coffee room' sprinkled and cleared as the different coaches drew up and departed. "Five minutes too late," a cloaked and furred gentleman arrived-finding his situation and fare alike unfortunate, he raved at the inconstancy of his watchthe deceit of his boon companion, with whom he had been taking rather too much, and made his 'exit' as suddenly as his 'entrance'-The 'booking-office' acquired more interest-here parcels and packages-live and dead gamecontents in bulk, and treasures and trifles in miniature, were entered and booked, for a safe delivery. The agreeable 'carriage paid' to the presents, which were preponderating over the due entrance of commercial commodities, brought into the 'booking office' a 'pretty considerable sum' of the ready, and the fat, as well as the thin clerk, by practice, possessed the faculties of Ready Reckoners,' 'Town Guides,' 'General Directories' and 'Statistic References.' Places were taken by halves, and pledges given by the interesting initials in the porter's clasped delivery

books.

Here, indeed, the booking office portrays a complete wholesale and retail business-keeping every thing on the qui vive, regulated by the dial and governed by circumstances, disappointing some persons, and satis

Many a sweet kiss and hearty shake are here exchanged, and sometimes never repeated.

fying others. The foreign booking ofsice, is, however, of a more reclusive class, unless visited now and then by a pretty demoiselle, and an infuriated Francois, whose garbled English with fluent French, really distracts the ear, and agitates the muscles. If the vast number of coaches pass and return, there follows what pairs and relays of horses there must be on the foot.' The stables here, are like the dark abodes of the 'Forty Thieves,' and the hostler and his subordinates, are alive to the demand of open sesame,' with the jack o'lanthorn in the perspective. The extreme points of the 'Pole' lie in the yards, and the 'Chain Piers' are ready to be thrown across any channel. The five tiers of chambery,' are all in readiness for a warm bed, a long nap, a late lie down, an early rise, or a quiet nod. If such little worlds are centered in only one of the inns of this metropolis; if motion is the evidence in them of things not seen,-who shall detail the actions? Life in London,' is but a similitude of 'general life.' Every pulse has its journey, from 'Infancy to Age:-Every heart its receptions of pain or joy. Every mind its passions, of which conscience' is the booking office-Reflection' and 'justice' are the 'clerks.' Time makes payment and 'good conduct' is an acceptable 'Present' to the Deity and society. 'Breath' is the steed, or locomotive steam; and the Human Fabric,'-the coach; May heaven be the inheritance and happiness, the end of Life's Journey! and, as all travellers, early or late, go to Gravesend, may the Golden Cross of Virtue' direct, both the short and long stages to benevolent intercourse, and convey their luggage by he welfare of the coachmen of knowledge and guards' of morals, to the desirable emancipation from care and slavery, to an imperturbable banquet.

6

P.

THE CASTLE OF VINCENNES.

This palace, which has suffered greatly by the ravages of time, is situated about three miles from Paris. It can boast of the most remote antiquity, for we find it often used as a royal residence by several of the early kings and queens of France.

The erection of the castle was commenced by Philip of Valois in 1327; it was increased in height to a third story by king John; but its erection was not completed till the reign of Charles V.

under whose auspices it was finished. It has the appearance, and possesses all the advantages of a fortress, particularly that part known as the dungeon.

In this ancient fabric, no less than four sovereigns have expired, the first of whom was Lewis the Xth; Charles V. also closed his mortal career here in 1580. He was the first prince of France that bore the title of the dauphin, and from his great prudence he acquired the surname of the Wise. To that fierce and remorseless persecutor, Charles IX. this chateau also proved fatal. He died here miserable at the early age of 25 years, in 1574, two years alter the horrible massacre of St. Bartholomew. The following anecdote shews that the last hours of this cruel man were embittered by those horrors, which attend the death-bed of the guilty; a few days before Charles's death,* he called his physician to him, and addressed him thus:-"Ambrose, I know not which has possessed me; my mind and body are strangely disordered, whether I sleep or wake, the massacred bodies seem to present themselves, before me, with hideous faces, and covered with blood;" then fetching a deep sigh, he added, "I wish the weak and innocent had been spared." Here, too, the brave and accomplished hero of Agincourt Henry V., breathed his last, after a short, but singularly brilliant career. In addition to the above illustrious characters, may be mentioned the death of Cardinal Mazarin, which took place here in 1661.

In more modern times there are some curious historical incidents connected with the castle of Vincennes, which are not unworthy of notice: during the last two centuries, it has often been appropriated by the French Government to the same purpose as that at present; and the same building, which at this time serves to immure the ex-minis'ers of France, has been the prison of many personages of rank and talent.

Here, in 1617, in some apartments of the castle, still to be seen, was confined the Prince of Conde, and forty years after, the great Conde became a tenant of the building, in which his father had been incarcerated. The celebrated Count Mirabeau also had the misfortune to be imprisoned four years within the walls of this edifice; during which

Murray says that Charles IX. died of a melady, on which the blood gu hed out of the pores of bis budy.

period he wrote the admirable letters between Gabriel and Sophia.

At this place, the gallant and generous Duke D'Enghein underwent a mock trial. At midnight, on the 10th of March, 1804, he was roused from his bed and put on his trial for a political conspiracy, of which he was totally innocent, and though there was not the least tittle of evidence, the court-martial appointed by the brother-in-law of Bonaparte, Murat, condemned him to death, notwithstanding it was beyond the jurisdiction of a court martial to try a conspirator, and against the laws of France to hold any trial at midnight. However, with the dawn of the morning of the 21st, the duke was conducted to the ditch of the castle, and there shot, pursuant to his unjust sentence. He was thrown into a grave with his clothes on, a circumstance which served to identify his body when search was made for it; on the 20th of March, 1815. His remains were then carefully collected and deposited in the chapel of Vincennes. The morning after the duke's execution, his favorite dog, who had passed unnoticed was found howling over the grave of his beloved master.

Such is a slight sketch of the history of this structure, the name of which is now, in consequence of the late political events, again familiar to the ear of the public.

THE SCRAPE BOOK.

"Luck's all."

Some men seem to be born lucky, happier than kings. Fortune's wheel has for them no revolutions. Whatever. they touch turns to gold-their path is paved with the philosopher's stone. At games of chance, they have no chance; but, what is better, a certainty. They hold four sorts of trumps. They get windfalls, without a breath stirring as legacies. Prizes turn up for them in lotteries. On the turf, their horsean outsider-always wins. They enjoy a whole season of benefits. At the very worst, in trying to drown themselves, they dive on some treasure, undiscovered since the Spanish Armada; or tie their halter to a hook, that unseals a hoard in the ceiling. That's their luck.

There is another kind of fortune, called ill-luck: so ill, that you hope it will die;-but it don't. That's my lick.

Other people keep scrap-books; but I, a scrape-book. It is theirs to insert bon-mots, riddles, anecdotes, caricatures, facetiæ of all kinds;-mine to record mischances, failures, accidents, disappointments: in short, as the betters say, I have always a bad book. Witness a few extracts, bitter as extract of bark.

April 1st. Married on this day: in the first week of the honey-moon, tumbled over my father-in-law's beehives. He has 252 bees; thanks to me, he is now able to check them. Some of the insects having an account against me, preferred to settle on my calf. Others swarmed on my hands. My bald head seemed a perfect hummingtop! Two hundred and fifty-two "stings

it should be stings-and arrows of outrageous fortune!" But that's my luck. Rushed bee-blind into the horsepond, and torn out by Tiger, the house dog. Staggered incontinent into the pig-sty, and collared by the sow-sus. per coll, for kicking her sucklings; recommended oil for my wounds, and none but lamp ditto in the house; relieved of the stings at last-what luck! by 252 operations.

9th. Gave my adored Belinda a black eye, in the open street, aiming at a lad who attempted to snatch her reticule. Belinda's part taken by a big rascal, as deaf as a post, who wanted to fight me, "for striking a woman." My luck again.

12th. Purchased a mare warranted so gentle that a lady might ride her, and, indeed, no animal could be quieter, except the leather one formerly in the show-room, at Exeter Change. Meant for the first time, to ride without Belinda to the Park-put my foot in the stirrup, and found myself on my own back, instead of the mare's. Other men are thrown by their horses, but a saddle does it for me. Well-nothing is so hard as my luck-unless it be the fourth flag, or stone, from the post at the north corner of Harley Street.

14th. Run down in a wherry by a coal-brig, off Greenwich, but providentially picked up by a steamer, that burst her boiler, directly afterwards. Saved to be scalded! But misfortunes with me never came single, from my very childhood. I remember when my little brothers and sisters tumbled down stairs, they always hitched half-way at the angle. My luck invariably turned the corner. It could not bear to bate me a single bump.

17th. Had my eye picked out by a

pavior who was axing his way, he didn't care where. Sent home in a hackney chariot that upset. Paid Jarvis a sovreign for a shilling. My luck all over! May 1st. My flue on fire. Not a sweep to be had for love or money!— Lucky enough for me-the parish engine soon arrived, with all the charity school. Boys are fond of playing-and indulged their propensity by playing into my best drawing-room. Every friend I had dropped in to dinner. Nothing but Lacedemonian black broth. Others have pot-luck, but I have not even pint-luck-at least of the right

sort.

8th. Found, on getting up, that the kitchen garden had been stripped by thieves, but had the luck at night to catch some one in the garden, by walking into my own trap. Afraid to call out, for fear of being shot at by the gardener, who would have hit me to a dead certainty-for such is my luck!

10th. Agricultural distress is a treat to some. My old friend Bill-I must henceforth call him Corn Bill-has, this morning, laid his unfeeling wooden leg on my tenderest toe, like a thresher. In spite of Dibdin, I don't believe that oak has any heart; or it would not be such a walking tread-mill!

12th. Two pieces of my usual. First, knocked down by a mad bull. Secondly, picked up by a pick-pocket. Any body but me would have found one honest humane man out of a whole crowd; but I am born to suffer, whether done by accident, or done by design. Luckily for me and the pick-pocket, I was able to identify him, bound over to prosecute, and had the satisfaction of exporting him to Botany Bay. I suppose I performed well in a court of justice, for the next day-" Encore un coup!" -I had a summons to serve with a Middlesex Jury, at the Old Bailey, for a fortnight.

14th. My number in the lottery has come up a capital prize. Luck at last -If I had not lost the ticket!

HOOD'S COMIC ANNUAL.

HUMPHREY THE HOMICIDE.

A TALE OF PYPE-HALL.

BY HORACE GUILFORD.
For the Olio.

THE CHAPLAIN'S STORY.

Concluded from p. 459,

We must now make another space of about two months from this event, and change the scene to a large but

neglected garden, belonging to the manor-house of the Abenhalls, whose estate joined that of Pype: it had been forfeited in the last reigns for its adherence to the Red Rose, and had not yet been restored. The mansion, partially dismantled, was tenanted only by two labourers and their families.

It was the noontide, and never sun shone on a fairer or a sadder scene. The broad turf walks had run rank and wild, the massive yew-hedges were untrimmed, the fountains dry and mossgrown, the statues overturned, and stamped with the grey and golden lichens. A lonely peacock was perched upon the sundial, affronting the yellow sun with the Iris radiance of his painted train. A large summer hall arose in one of the grass-plots, but the vanes on its turrets were dimmed with rust, and its open galleries or balconies broken down. The old mansion itself looked in melancholy pomp over the deserted pleasaunce; its windows disclosed shattered colours of story and blazon, whose ivied apertures ushered the sunlight (an unwelcome intruder) into chambers of tarnished gilding, of faded tapestry, and shrivelled damask.

Three persons had entered this deserted inclosure by a latticed gate, leading from the oak-lawns of PypeHall; and with what they may be pleased to say we must fill up the chasm we have made.

The first to be noticed was the Lady Magdalene of Ingestre, and when we state that she was attired in that most affecting garb-a widow's, it may be imagined that the freedom of her gait was chastened, that her majestic figure was less elastic, and that her beautiful face was thin and pale: but if we add, that she led by the hand a gallantlooking boy, whose bright eyes and glowing cheek bore a powerful contrast to his mourning dress,-we need scarcely say, that her grief, though profound, as it might well be, carried with it no feature of despair.

The two principal figures in the groupe being thus introduced, it will be no matter of surprise that the third was Felix Redmayne, of whose whereabout since we last left him we must say a few words.

When Marmaduke had disappeared in that mysterious manner from the aisles of Saint Paul's, Felix, stung to the heart by his involuntary neglect, had made a vow that he would never see his master, or his home at Ingestre again, till he had recovered the child.

A hasty letter to Judith informed her of his purpose; and from her, of course, it passed to Sir Valentine and his lady. Thus their hopes were buoyed up during the year that ensued; and it was by employing this report, (which Felix justly termed a seething of the kid in its mother's milk) that the relentless and indeed half-mad Sir Humphrey succeeded in decoying Chetwynd to his destruction.

Shortly after the Tixal affray, a man desperately wounded in a night-brawl had been rescued by Redmayne in some obscure street in London. Felix attended him home, and in that home Marmaduke Chetwynd was found. It seems that compunction had seized the Spaniard who had kidnapped the boy. Though he durst not restore him, he had treated him kindly; and the heir of Ingestre, squalid as he was in his attire, was returned to his mother nowise injured in his health or bodily appearance.

"Go, Marmaduke," said Lady Chetwynd, as soon as she found that they were secured from intruders in that garden-wilderness,-"go, darling, and play with the peacock till I call ye."

Off ran the glad child, and a close conversation ensued between his mother and her attendant.

"And if they say so, they say true," sighed Magdalene.

"He is safe then?"

Ah, you know not my poor father! Extreme in good or ill,—the severity of his penitence exceeds the enormity of his guilt: he hath refused the conditions with firmness and even scorn."

"Alas! then, lady, his estates are lost to your brothers and yourself, for he will die a convicted felon!"

Magdalene's colour leapt to her pale cheek, till the veins in her noble brow seemed bursting with it; her eyes flashed, and her whole frame trembled, as she said

"Felon! how darest thou, bornvassal as thou art to the house of Stanley, brand, in the hearing of a Stanley, one of her kindred with that foul word?

Nay, nay, forgive me, Felix!" she added; and then, in a lower voice, "Alas! thou knowest not the spirit of our family-felon will never be written against my father's name?"

"How mean ye, my lady?" Magdalene was unable immediately to reply; at length the answer came, choaked with emotion,

"He will stand mute on his arraignment!"

"It was wonderful! he arose from his sick couch an altered man!-All that was ill in his nature seemed utterly banished, all that was brave and generous and kind remained?"

"I heard that he caused his gates be thrown open the moment King Henry's pursuivants, with their people, appeared?"

"He did; and in their presence sent for me (I had not seen him since my husband died)-he clasped me in his arms, wept over me, and then suddenly kneeling at my feet, confessed the dreadful deed, implored my pardon for it, and declared that he still trusted to make some reparation."

"And you, lady

"Sprang to his heart as fondly as if it had never harboured a thought against my happiness; and kissed his hand as fervently as if (shade of Valentine forgive me!)-I saw not thy blood there!"

"But men say, and (pardon me, lady) with indignation say, that the king hath offered to compromise this foul murder, by an additional fine on Sir Humphrey's still large estates."

claimed

"I forgive him-I forgive him my scourging, my brandishing, I forgive him all!-he is still my own gallant master, as he was ere this fatal feud unhinged him! Thus, and thus only, can he defeat the sordid Henry, and preserve his estates to his familybut, oh, lady, the penalty is fearful."

"He will be pressed to death!" murmured Magdalene. "We have knelt to him for hours to dissuade him, but in vain!-it is too horrible!"

"Horrible, indeed! I saw Sir Roger Calverley suffer; he was a man of great lustihood, like Sir Humphrey, and he was three days in dying."

Magdalene, shuddering, closed her eyes; she leaned against a stone balustrade, and seemed near fainting, when Marmaduke came bounding up the walk to her; seeing her situation, he checked his joyous pace, and stealing softly up to her, put his arms gently round her neck: this action, slight as it was, afforded the mother instant relief in a passionate flood of tears.

Felix retired to a respectful distance, but after a pause Lady Chetwynd called him to her, and said