Imatges de pàgina
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"Here beginneth a litel storie, how ye Devy! did appeare intoe certaine souldiers, and plaied manie strange pranks, as to ye chrysten reader shall bee fully shewen." OLD TITLE.

The night was dark and stormy, but the guests of mine host of the Green Dragon at Niton, in the Isle of Wight, recked not the war without whilst a good fire blazed before them, and plenty of good ale mantled in the black jack, which passed rapidly from hand to hand. The company consisted of a party of soldiers, belonging to a regiment sent to protect the island from the anticipated attack of the French, and had been stationed at this spot in case of emergency. Now there was among this party a soldier named Ralph Thunderly, a burly grim-visaged matchlockman who had served in the wars abroad, who drank and sung, and roared, and swore with true vehemence. He was an athletic and active fellow, and not one of his comrades could run, leap, wrestle, or pitch the bar like Ralph, who as far exceeded them in these exercises as he did in reprobate conduct. It was rather more than two hours after nightfall, when a knocking was heard at the door of the rude inn, and a shrill voice begged admittance for a poor wandering piper.

Mine

host opened the door, and a strange being entered. He was a little shrivel led, old man, scarce four feet high, whose wizzened visage, half concealed by a tattered hood, was lit up by a pair of sharp grey eyes which twinkled like stars under his singularly shaped brows. His bow legs were cased in hose of serge, and he wore shoes of an antique fashion with long pikes. Under his arm he carried a pair of pipes of a curious shape.

"Right welcome, master piper," roared Ralph Thunderly, presenting the visitor with a horn brim-full of ale. "We have a marvellous lack of sweet sounds here, for we have heard not the voice of maid, wife, or widow, these three days past."

"God keep all three out of thy path," cried one of his comrades; but Ralph heeded him not, and continued

"By the mass, thou hast come in the nick of time, goodman piper. Marry, VOL. VI.

2 H

I could handle the pipes myself at one time, and was light o'heel in pavise or galliard; but come, give us a tune, old sir.,"

"Wait awhile, good gentleman," said the piper, "I am sore weary and my fingers are benumbed with the cold; I would fain warm myself ere I begin."

"Then do't a God's name," said Ralph; we'll ha' a merry night on't, by St. Botolph."

"The little old man drained his horn, and sat eyeing the company for some time, when Ralph again pressed him to play; whereat the piper took his pipes and played a most curious air, such as never was heard before. His hearers were delighted, but none more so than Ralph, who patted the old man on the back, and swore "his music was fit for the ear of the king's grace." Many times did the piper play, and at the conclusion of each, Ralph Thunderly plied him with the black jack, no doubt with the intention of making the musician drunk; but he might as well have poured the good liquor into a sieve, for the piper was none the worse for his repeated draughts, although his eyes twinkled with a lustre that some of the company thought savoured not of this world. Ralph, in the mean time, while endeavouring to intoxicate the old man, forgot that the fumes of the ale were fast mounting to his own head, and he roared and sung profane songs, and uttered ribald jests, and swore deep and bitter oaths, with even more than his accustomed vehemence. Midnight came, and Ralph, with a loud horse laugh, proposed that they should drink the health of the patron of martial men-the Devil-when his companions, though not the most scrupulous themselves, interfered; but Ralph in a rage, dashed down the empty black jack, and called loudly for a stoop of wine.

"Pshaw," said he, "let your roistering German Lanznecht, and your bullying Genoese, pray to their saints-I'll pledge mine in a cup of mine host's particular-Sathanas, our guardian and protector!"

The daring reprobate raised the liquor to his lip-But, mark! in an instant the vessel was dashed from his grasp, by an invisible hand, and a peal of unearthly laughter, in which the strange piper joined, sounded without.

"How now?" cried Ralph, furiously, "what means this, sir piper?"-but his cheek whitened, and his voice sud

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denly fell as he saw the eyes of the old musician dilate and glow like coals.

"What ails thee, valiant sir?" enquired the piper, in a jeering tone; but the terrified soldier answered not; and his comrades stared in speechless horror, while the host fell on his knees with a prayer to the saints. Suddenly the old man played an air, which caused Ralph Thunderly to bound and caper like one forsaken of his senses-the piper himself joined in this fantastical dance; and those who beheld it say that his steps were such as they had never seen before. Loud sounded the pipes, and round whirled the soldier and his strange companion, who laughed at his piteous signs of distress, and played still faster while Ralph, though convulsed in every limb, had not power to stop; when anon the door flew open with a loud noise and the piper danced out, followed by his victim. A broad streak of flame now marked the track of the piper, who capered towards the sea, still followed by Ralph; when, as they reached the water, a dark vapour rose and suddenly obscured them both from sight. Loud yells and shouts of riotous laughter, and piercing shrieks of distress resounded along the shore, and a noise as if the sea were violently agitated succeeded, and then all was hushed, save the screaming of the startled sea birds; but the hellish musician and his miserable victim were seen no more! ALPHA.

THE EPITAPH OF 1830.

HERE lie, although shorn of their rays,
In the family-vault of old Time,
Three hundred and sixty-five days
Of folly, pride, glory, and crime.
You may mourn o'er their miseries still,

You may dance o'er their desolate bier :
You may laugh, you may weep, as you will-
Eighteen-Hundred-and-1hirty lies here!

It brought us some good on its wings,
Much ill has it taken away;
For it gave us the best of Sea-Kings,
And darkened the Conqueror's day.
It narrowed Corruption's dominion,
And crushed Aristocracy's starch,
Gave nerve to that giant, Opinion,
And spurred up old Mind on his march.

It drew a new line for Court-morals,

Laid hands on the Pensioner's treasure,
And told us-we'll crown it with laurels-
Reform is a Cabinet-measure,

It brought, to the joy of each varlet,
Both sides of a coat into play;
For it stripped off the faded old Scarlet,
And turned the court-livery Grey!

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Have you any work for the Tinker?

The bird called the Tinkerbudget may have derived its name from a travelling tinker, or the latter may have had the prior claim to the originality of constructing its kit.

The bird's bulky domicile, differing from those of other birds, is very similar. It is, indeed, a decided budget, yet so small at the entrance, that its constructors can only creep into it. The tinker, like the bird, is limited in his means, and circumscribed in his rounds. He is sometimes, however, more discursive, being of the gipsy caste, with black eyes. olive skin, and raven hair. From the uncompromising independence which he preserves by dwelling in the outskirts of cities, towns, and villages; and by living in a tent with those of his tribe, he has not learned to be civil, nor cares for support beyond his daily wants, partly supplied by filching. He will, generally, keep a female to carry the charcoal pan and assist him in catering for business; and, if she can parm her plausible episodes by way of consulting young women's pockets in diving into them and futurity, so much the better. The gipsey tinker is an idle smutch; an artist with his fist, that would as easily pick a quarrel, as a lock; or break the hedge of a clover field, as he would your head. But the regular tinker is quite a different character. His cry is his freehold property. It is known as regularly as the So'clock bell.

THE OLIO.

It comes in the wind down the street
and winds his steps nearer till, 'tis
palpably sure!' He is anxious, like a
livery stable keeper, to get a job. Like
a plumber, he can solder. He can rivet
like Cupid, and botch like a tailor. His
fire, like Hymen's, is increased by
kindling; and if ribs, handles, legs,
arms, or bottoms, are defective, like a
surgeon he can set them. His dog, like
himself, is a tin-cur, not frightened by
a saucepan near his tail, like others of
his species. He is a man of metal.
Like a soldier, he knows not where he
will be called upon to repair a breach
in the tin fortress, or, like Captain Dal-
getty, be obliged to erect a sconce. He
has brazen pretensions to armoury:
Vulcan's powers in withstanding fire.
His wife is not like Venus rising from
the sea, but a fruitful Pomona-guarding
the six-fold offspring of wedded love.
Their smutty faces are healthy, and if
away from the dingy occupation, would
shew a bloom ladies of dissipation can-
not wear. However the tinker may be
wanted in society, to mend our manners
and cobble our habits, he is not diverted
from his smoky course,' but leads an
inoffensive career through three or four
districts. Well, it would be, were he,
in the world, the only craftsinan of de-
cayed wares and accidental burners.
But, alas! his profession is popular.
Are there not senatorial tinkers? Tink-
ers in the law? Tinkers in physic? It
is a misfortune that 'well' will not let
well alone. We have a tinker travers-
ing the country, pretending to improve
the memory. Another, haranguing the
people to improve their politics. Ano-
ther, bolstering his schemes by stubble.
There are ranting tinkers. Cricketters'
tinkers. Floating tinkers. Booth tink-

ers.

Tax assessor tinkers. Informing tinkers. Daubing tinkers; and literary tinkers. Sometimes a publican's tinker trifles with the beer. A baker's tinker kneads the flour. Go where we will, seek what we will, do what we will, the tinker's province is apparent. But for the produce of education, the well being of the state, the good of the professional community, the increase of knowledge, the advancement of the fine arts, the general advantage of literature, the happiness of society, we are aware of the superabundance of tinkers, and our duties are better performed by consulting those only who constitute the basis of our well being, and by whose ways and works we are mutually benefitted. Look not, then, down with contempt on the humble individual that as

pires not beyond the power of making
vessels fire and water proof;' that does
not invade the slumbers of the fireside,
but adds the means of protecting our
peace by his patchwork pieces; and he,
being a resinous fellow, is a practica!
curer of metal aneurisms. To him the
cook, the wife, and washerwoman are
indebted. He makes the kettle sing for
joy! The pot cry hubble, bubble.'
The tin cup and the saucepan unite in
a simmering duet; the pot wallopers
vote in his favour, and the furnace, sigh-
ing like a lover at his mistress's eye-
a well-boiled repast
brow, invites to
with ignipotent fervour.

MOUNT ST. MICHEL,

P.

Mount St. Michel, where the Prince de Polignac is to be confined, is at the southern extremity of the ancient province of Normandy. It lies in the midst of extensive sands, which are covered by the sea at spring tides. The approach to it from the continent being very dangerous, it is necessary to take guides at Ardevon.

Its most ancient name was Belenus, when it was inhabited by Druidesses. After the abolition of the Druids, it took the name of Mons Jovis, to which was substituted that of Tumba, when a moIn 708, nastery was erected upon it. Bishop Auber raised upon it a church, which he dedicated to St. Michel. Ethelred, the second king of England, had a particular veneration for Mount St.-Michel.

Abbot Rogers had been almoner to William the Conqueror.

Henry II. of England made a 'pilgrimage to Mount St. Michel, where he met Louis VII., King of France, with a splendid suite.

In 1203, the fortification consisted only of wooden pallisades. Being attacked by the Bretons, they set fire to them: the fire reached the church and abbey, which were completely destroyed.

The monastery was restored in 1326, by Abbot Adulph de Villedieu.

His successor, Richard Tustin, obtained from the Pope the most dis inguished privileges.

In 1418, the English made a fruitless attack upon it.

In 1423, it was attempted again, with a very considerable force and powerful artillery, two pieces of which now remain at the gate: one has a stone ball in it of about fifteen inches diameter.

Among the distinguished English officers who perished at that siege, was a Chevalier M. Burdet.

In 1577, a Protestant chief (Detouchet) succeeded by stratagem in getting possession of it. After two days possession he was obliged to evacuate it. In 1591, a similar attempt proved most destructive to the assailants.

In 1594, the spire, the bells, and the church, were considerably injured by lightning.

Mount St. Michel was visited in 1518 by Francis I. King of France.

In 1561, by Charles IX.

In 1576, by the Duchess de Bourbon. In 1624, by the Duke de Nevers, who made a rich present to the Abbey. In 1689, by Madame de Sevigne, who designated it Le Mont fier et orgueilleux.

In 1699, Philip, Duke of Orleans, brother to Louis XIV., was one of its visitors.

The most remarkable circumstance is the visit paid to it on the 10th of May, 1777, by the ex-King of France, the Count d'Artois then twenty years old. In inspecting the state prison, a wooden cage was shewn to him. The Prince struck with horror at the sight of it, ordered it to be destroyed.

Shortly after, the young Princes of Orleans, among whom the present King Philip, accompanied by Madame de Sillery, stopped at Mount St. Michel. After having inspected the subterraneous passages and magazines, the wooden cage was shewn to them. They asked for workmen and axes, and giving the first blows themselves, this infernal machine was completely destroyed.

The original rock, which is of granite, was reduced to 188 feet, in order to obtain sufficient room for the building. The circumference of the rock at the base is a little above half a mile. The height, including the turret over the tower, is equal to that of St. Paul's. It is surrounded on almost every side with lofty walls, flanked with towers. The north and west sides are nearly perpendicular. The south side is inhabited. The houses are, as it were, on the top of each other. The ascent to the abbey is by winding stairs. The abbey is strongly protected by towers and strong gateways.

Since the revolution it has been used as a department or prison for convicts, of which there are now from seven to eight hundred.

Times Jour.

SELF TAUGHT POETS.
Stephen Duck.

Of the numerous tribe of self-taught verse-makers, especially, the great majority have been the merest imitators. A fair specimen of this race, the individuals of which, although they sometimes excite a temporary attention, generally drop very speedily into oblivion, we have in a writer named Stephen Duck, who flourished in the early part of the last century. Duck was born about the year 1700, at the village of Charlton, in Wiltshire. He was at school for a short time in his boyhood, when he learned a little reading, writing, and arithmetic. When about fourteen, however, he was sent to work as an agricultural labourer; and, being employed for several years in the lowest of rural occupations, without ever opening a book, he soon forgot what little learning he had ever possessed. Still, as he used afterwards to tell, even at this time his thoughts were often engaged on subjects very foreign to his daily employments. At last he began to read a little, and this gradually inspired him with a desire to recover his lost knowledge, scanty as it had been. At this time he was about twenty-four years of age, with a wife and family to support: and being engaged in hard work all day, he had but very little time for study. He was also without books, and had no money to buy any. Yet such was his ardour to obtain the means of instructing himself, that for some time, whenever he had an hour's release from his regular employment, he devoted it to extra work; and in this way he saved money enough to purchase, first, a treatise on vulgar fractions, then one on decimal fractions, and lastly, one on land-surveying. All these works he made himself master of, by studying them during the night, when every body about him was asleep. Soon after this, he became intimately acquainted with a person in the same condition of life as himself, but who had passed some years in service in London, whence he had brought down a few dozens of books with him to the country. Of these some were treatises on arithmetic; among the others were the Bible, Paradise Lost, the Spectator, Seneca's Morals, Telemachus, an English Dictionary and Grammar, Ovid, Josephus, seven plays by Shakspeare, and a few more by other writers; Dryden's Virgil, Hudibras, and the works of Waller and Prior. Duck had, it

seems, been always fond of poetry and music; though hitherto the best specimens of either which he had had an opportunity of enjoying, had been only a few rustic ballads. But his perusal of some of the above works inspired him with new enthusiasm, and in no long time he began to attempt writing verses himself. The first poetical work by which he was greatly struck, was Paradise Lost. Yet he read it through twice or thrice, with the aid of his dictionary before he understood it. The new beauties he was continually discovering, however, made all this labour delightful. He studied the book, we are told, as a student of Greek or Latin would do one of the ancient classics, and making all the while as much use of his dictionary and grammar as if it had been written in a foreign language. These literary labours were still generally pursued during the night. Sometimes, however, he used to take a book with him in his pocket when he went out to his daily work in the fields; and if by working with more activity than usual he could get through what he had to do in less than the usual time, he would devote the few precious moments he had gained to the perusal of his book

Even while at work he often employed himself in composing verses. It was some time before he thought of committing any of his compositions to paper; but at last he was induced to address a letter in verse to a gentleman, who, having heard of his acquirements, had sought him out, and made his acquaintance; and this effusion having been shewn to several other persons, was generally regarded as a very surprising performance for one in his circumstances. Some clergymen, in particular, to whom it was submitted, were so much pleased with it, that they rewarded the author with a small gratuity. From this time his talents began to be generally talked of; and, encouraged by the praise he received, he did not suffer his poetical faculty to lie dormant. The consequence was, that in a short time he had accumulated a respectable store of verse. It seems to have been not long before the year 1720, that Duck attracted the notice of the Reverend Mr. Spence, already mentioned as the patron of Robert Hill, the learned tailor, and the blind poet Blacklock. Spence, who did himself great credit by the interest he took in these cases of indigent merit, immediately conceived the idea of bringing

the claims of his protege before the public in the most effective manner, through the press; and, accordingly, as many of his poems were collected as formed a quarto volume, which made its appearance in that year. Besides the general reputation which the author acquired by this publication, it procured for him the particular favour and patronage of Queen Caroline, who immediately settled upon him a pension of thirty pounds a year. In 1773 he was made one of the Yeomen of the Guard. He now applied himself to the study of the Latin language-in which, having made some progress, he was admitted into holy orders. On this the queen appointed him, in the first instance, keeper of her library at Richmond, and in a short time after he was preferred to the living of Byfleet, in Surrey. Meanwhile, a second edi tion of his poems had appeared in 1726, to which we find the names of the queen and other members of the royal family prefixed as subscribers. Duck became much beloved and respected by the people of Byfleet in his capacity of pastor, and lived there happily for many years.

But the termination of his history is very melancholy. He at last fell into low spirits, and drowned himself in the Thames near Reading, in the year 1756. His poems have now long been forgotten. They had little merit, except considerable smoothness of versification, which even in those days the example of Pope had rendered a common quality.

WONDERFUL MEMORIES.

It is said of Joseph Scaliger, that he was but one-and-twenty days learning by heart the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer, although in the former alone there are several thousand verses.

Mithridates, King of Pontus, had so good a memory that Plutarch relates of him, that, though his dominions contained no less than twenty-two entire countries, yet he was qualified to answer every ambassador that approached him in the respective language of the country from whence he came, without the assistance of an interpreter.

Jerome of Prague was also famous for a great memory, of which Paguis, in his epistle to Leonardus Aretinus, gives the following specimen, viz" that after he had been confined three hundred and forty days in a dark dungeon, without light either to see or read, yet,

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