and daughter taking her last farewell, by putting the ring on the finger of her beloved father and honoured King. Exquisitely keen must have been his sufferings, as those parents best know, whose sons and daughters are not permitted to follow but precede them to the grave! George the Third fell from parental love, and possibly had his interval of time allowed him before halluci nations commenced. Filial love sometimes produces similar effects, and at the head of this affection may be placed Princess Amelia, though a younger and more illustrious personage may lay claim to precedency here. A third class intended to be regarded in my Work, shall be headed by Queen Elizabeth, of whom it is thus written: "The fate of Essex was supposed to have brought on the meJancholy which so apparently affected her after his demise; but the shock she sustained on the discovery of Nottingham's treachery, and the anxiety which ensued thereupon, were be yond all description, and could only terminate with her life." The physicians gave no hope to her case. There is something remarkable in the fate of this Queen and his late Majesty. A ring gave to each of them a fatal shock. A ring was given to Essex in token of the Queen's affection; and therefore the class which she heads may be termed the lover's love. To this class Moestus may be said to belong. The import ant subject for consideration is, whether one degree of probability of their restoration existed in means around them, but not applied or neglected as unworthy of notice? The case of his late Majesty I contrast with that of the Patriarch Jacob, who was, to all appearance, for ever deprived of his youngest son Joseph, when the ornamented coat was presented to him stained with blood. The ornamented ring gave the shock to George the Third, and the ornamented coat to Jacob, in affording a full assurance that each of these parents was separated from his youngest child by death. Now Jacob's grief was assuaged, and his mind brought to resignation. George the Third prayed for resignation, but he found it not in time. The following anecdote describes the Monarch's wish in a truly affecting manner: "In the summer of 1814, the King had lucid intervals; the Queen desired to be informed when that was the case ;she was so; and on entering the room, she found him singing a hymn, and accompanying it on the harpsichord. When he had finished it, he knelt down and prayed aloud for her Majesty, then for his family, and the nation, concluding with a prayer for himself, that it might please God to avert his heavy calamity from him, but if not, to give him resignation to submit to it. He then burst into tears, and reason again fled." Now I conceive that when great and good men have fallen by sorrows to the most grievous of human sufferings, the best way of preventing similar disasters is by showing how some escaped who were nearly, if not wholly, in a similar track, and nigh to the brink of irretrievable danger. For that purpose I have ventured to publish the first part of a projected Work, which has for its ultimate object the welfare of the Church, by showing her power in preventing or restoring the loss of reason, and by pointing to the origin of that fanatical spirit that has disturbed the nation so much of late, and may again break forth in various ways of annoyance. Yours, &c. W. SNAPE. TOUR IN YORKSHIRE. Pontefract, 1st June. HE ruins of Pontefract Castle, Twhich suggested the remarks in my last Letter, still present abundant subject for contemplation. The brambles which partly cover its fallen fragments, prevent intrusion; but to what purpose could curiosity employ itself in a minute examination of these chaotic remains of former greatness? Of the plan and distribution of the several parts of the building, its scattered fragments convey scarcely even the remotest idea. Conjecture employs herself in vain! The eye wanders in amazement over the mighty fabrick, whilst invention endeavours to supply the means of tracing in its present desolation the pristine grandeur of its appearance. Tradition lends a feeble assistance, by pointing to the fragments of a Tower which is reported to have been the prison of King Richard II. after his compulsory abdication. It has been again and again remarked, marked, that "there is but a short step between the prison and the grave of Princes:" and this axion was verified in the case of Richard. Hither that Monarch was brought by order of the Parliament, which had been convened by his successor Henry, as to a place of secrecy as well as security, where he might be guarded in the completest manner, and have no intercourse with his friends or partisans, if any such remained to him, after his fall. The accounts of the manner in which his eventful life was terminated, are at variance. The great majority of writers seem to have agreed that he was murdered by Sir Piers Exton and others, who were incited to the atrocious deed by the new King but it has been asserted, that as no marks of violence were observed on his body, which is recorded to have been exposed to public view, it is more probable that he was starved to death! It seems to have been forgotten, that, in the latter case, there would have been at least as decisive indications of the cause of his death, as are likely to have been noticed in the former. Shakspeare, who lived so much nearer the time of these transactions, had undoubtedly imbibed the notion which then commonly prevailed, and has accordingly wrought it into his Tragedy with striking effect; but it is rather extraordinary that an event so melancholy and so important, which might have been supposed to strike with proportionable force every writer who mentioned the place of its occurrence, and every traveller who visited the spot, should have been wholly omitted by the learned and industrious Camden. It is the more strange, because he particularizes the death of the Earl of Lancaster in a former reign, and of Earl Rivers in the short interval between the death of Edward IV. and the assumption of the regal functions by the Duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard III. Rivers, who was the materual uncle of the young King, and had been his governor or preceptor, was arrested near Stoney Stratford, in Buckinghamshire, on his way to Londou, with Edward V. and sent a prisoner to Pontefract, as well as Sir Richard Gray, one of the Queen's sons, and Sir Thomas Vaughan, an officer of the Royal household, and there they were all put to death by order of the Usurper, without the semblance of a trial! Shakspeare makes Rivers break forth into an apostrophe on the place which had been chosen for the execution of his cruel and unjust sentence: "O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, Fatal and ominous to noble Peers! And for more slander to thy dismal seat, We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink!" It astonishes the reader of the present day, who has the happiness of feeling the security of laws and the protection of justice, that, notwithstanding the detestation in which Historians assert that the common people and all the inhabitants of the land, excepting his own creatures, held the name and character of Richard, no sensation appears to have been excited by this atrocious murder! The people seem to have looked on, with stupid wonder, or dull indifference. Richard, indeed, with his usual hypocrisy, talked of the peril of the case, when Hastings was cut off, and hinted at the " censures of the carping world," (to use the Poet's expression); but so far as history elucidates these scenes, there seem to have been scarcely any high or generous feelings left in the country;-every noble sentiment being swallowed up by the wildness of anbition and arrogance of revenge. Such are the tremendous evils of despotism! Celebrated and distinguished in the feudal ages, Pontefract Castle gradually sunk into neglect, as a different system of Government broke the fetters of tyranny, and justice triumphed over violence and anarchy. Once more, however, it was fated to resound with the din of arms, and in Cromwell's civil war was garrisoned for the King. Hume says, that "part of the Scottish army was employed in reducing Pomfret," and tradition adds, that the Castle held out for the King to the last; but was lost by a woman being seen conveying provisions to the besieged, through a private subterraneous passage from the park; park; which being still remaining, in some degree corroborates that report. After having been forced, it was demolished, like many other fortresses, by the order of Parliament. There is said to have been a chapel within the Castle, which was made collegiate, and so remained until the general suppression of Monasteries. The Church, now so striking in its ruins, was greatly damaged by Cromwell's cannon, which were placed on Bag-hill opposite, and was partly blown down soon afterwards; upon which the Parliament, in 1649, granted 1000l. (to be raised by the sale of the materials of the Castle) towards its reparation. A small part of the original building, being the North transept, seems to have been accordingly re-edified; and the contiguous churchyard is still the common burying-ground of the parish; but Divine Service is regularly performed at St. Giles's Chapel in the wood, formerly a chapel of ease, and situated as its name imports, but now standing in the middle of the town; and having been since rebuilt and enlarged, was, by an Act of Parliament, made parochial. The living is a vicarage, in the patronage of the Crown. It is styled St. Oswald's with St. Giles's Chapel annexed. The old Church was dedicated to St. Oswald, a favourite name in Yorkshire, for sinners as well as saints, derived probably from Oswald, King of Bernicia and Northumberland, who is believed to have restored the Christian Religion in his dominions in the seventh century, after the relapse of his brother and predecessor Eanfrid into paganism. Oswald, who of course acquired the good will of the Monks, who were afterwards his historians, is highly celebrated for his piety, insomuch, that after his death, his reliques are said to have performed miracles, and, amongst many others, to have cured a sick horse that was grazing near the place of his inter ment! In the immediate vicinity of the town, were at least three religious houses, a Cluniac Priory, and two others of Black and White Friars ; and the names of Friar's Wood, Trinity, the Priory, and Monk-hill, are still retained, as attached to the remains of them or their places of situation. sure. In the middle of a large garden, surrounded by hawthorn hedges, I established my colony of workmen. I inclosed the space designed for the apiary, and protected the hives from winds and storms by a reed fence. I provided every swarm with a clean straw hive, covered with a good coat of thatch, impervious to the wind or rain; the hives were placed side by side, like the houses in a village, at a respectful distance from each other, and from the platform of each hive the industrious labourers might launch into the air, explore the neighbouring flowers, and lay all the treasures of the country at my feet. The wanderers were not driven by distress to range so far, for I filled my garden with the sweetest flowers of spring; that they might revel in sweets at home; but I believe they are prone to take long journeys. In front of the hives were cultivated the most useful herbs to improve the flavour of the honey, and among the beds were placed earthen pans, filled with water and pebbles, for the Bees to alight on. With such advantages my colony made me the most grateful returns; my cellar was filled with tubs of metheglin, and my store-room embellished with jars of the most delicious honey. "O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint, Agricolas !" My hives generally swarmed early, and the early swarms in their turn produced early swarms; but I never permitted any bive to send out a second swarm the same season: it was against against my laws and regulations, which were never broken. I allotted more room to the hive for accommodation, and with this they were generally content. When the busy scene of summer was over, and the Bees a little relaxed from their labours, and enjoyed a portion of their food, when the evenings about Michaelmas grew short, and the air cold, I carefully weighed every hive, minutely inspected their domestic concerns, and decided their fate. A hive that did not weigh 18lbs. I have always condemned, as incapable of supporting itself during winter; aud in variably selected the weightiest hives for my future stock, and out of the swarms if possible-as Bees will desert an old hive after a certain time, and I think a hive should not continue to exist more than three years. I feel great reluctauce in destroying any of my hives, and a real sorrow when the fatal match is applied, but true policy points out the necessity of destroying those hives that cannot encounter the rigours of winter, or they must be daily supplied with honey or molasses. To extract the honey in its utmost purity, I use an earthen pan standing upon a pedestal, and supplied with a drain pipe; and after shaving the combs with a sharp kuife, they are placed in the pan, to draw off through the pipe into jars of different degrees of excellence; the combs are afterwards washed to extract every remaining particle of sweetness for metheglin; and Mr. Urban is welcome to quaff a goblet of this sparkling beverage of our ancestors, whenever he visits my cottage. The last seven years produced 112 hives, the total weight of which was 2286lbs. averaged at 20lbs. per hive. FATHER PAUL. have been all along pursuing. Much, therefore, of this part of our inquiry has been proved already-we have only to touch briefly on the remainder. LORD KAIMES, in his doctrine concerning ideas and emotions in a train, seems to submit their laws rather to necessity and chance, when he denies that we can at will begin, add to, or stop any such train. He would here destroy the free-agency of thought. We have only to think, for one moment, in order to refute his position. But whenever we think we make use of the laws of analogy, that is-the historical relation. He asks, why some minds are influenced by the slighter_relations, or connections, only? The answer is: it is owing to their will, and voluntary habits. We might as well ask, why some men are hurried away by their passions? He observes, that there is an order, as well as a connection in our trains of ideas. We have above shown the principle of that order, as well as connection; and that they are one and the same. The order of "the ascending and descending series" are equally natural-but the choice depends on this fact—the point from which we set out. If we have already descended a river, and would be at its source, we must re-trace our progress analytically; both are equally historical. The same may be said as to the other relations he adverts to: principals and accessories, particulars and generals-the correspondence and rapid communication between trains of ideas, emotions, and passions: between these and their signs, or language of sentiment: of this again with actions-of actions with intentions and motive; as well as of means to an end, ingenuity of contrivance ; congruity and propriety of character -or suitableness of parts to a whole —and all relative beauty. So the influence of illusion and fiction upon our passions-of these upon our belief and very perceptions, show the abuse that may be made, even of a BLIND historical instinct. When events are related in so lively a manner as to raise ideal presence, we do not patiently hear their truth doubted. CICERO and QUINTILIAN say, it makes the thing credible. Therefore nothing grossly improbable can excite interest. We are natu rally addicted to belief, love of truth, aud and candour, openness, communicativeness. The abuse of this teaches us the art of distinguishing nature, truth, and falshood. But the Sceptics go too far when they desire us to set aside our very senses. A better and shorter way is to set the Sceptics themselves aside. He observes well, that desire can arise only on the possibility, real or supposed, of "having or possession." Many feelings that have the names of a distinct passion are only events, real or supposed. Thus, the mere cessation of pain, or of longing, gives joy: the approach of harm, or offence, fear, and anger: -self-preservation, existence,“ having, or possession” actuating us, instinctively. The relation of "having," illustrates the force with which a subject is connected with its properties, or the manner in which a principal communicates to its accessories and associates, its own identity. Thus the owner of any magnificent house, gardens, and servants, is diffused throughout— (though here it is often difficult to say which is the principal, and which is the accessory:) a beautiful person communicates her interesting qualities to her dress, or to any part of it, as her glove; the fashions of the great, every thing that is produced, or connected with that still greater personage SELF-as one's own particular country. Hence, too, the hallowed character given to the tombs and relics of saints, &c. these are mere historical relations-called pride, vanity, false patriotism, fanaticism, superstition, &c. Now we are upon superstitious belief-it is a curious historical phenomenon in human nature, that those who believe in false prophesies, not only expect their accomplishment, but voluntarily fulfil them. The belief in inevitable fate, in second sight, in philosophical necessity, &c. brings the very thing about, so much dreaded. This is something like the infatuation of the little American bird, that, petrified with horror, at an enormous serpent under the tree, and fastening its eyes upon it, at last drops into its mouth! Nay, the strong belief of a thing as true, will annihilate, or metamorphose a past fact, and even a present existence. In Walter Scott's notes to his LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL, there is an account of a deso late old woman that actually confessed herself guilty of witchcraft and sorcery! So strong and unanimous was the opinion of her Scottish neighbours on that subject-that they at last convinced herself of it. Thus powerful is the virtue of received character and OPINION-and the very ABUSE even of the historic relation. The natural measure of duration and space, is the recollection of the ideas and emotions in a train that have passed through our minds during the given interval. We judge the time and place to be long or short accordingly. Hence the impatience we feel in travelling along a bad road, through a dull country: or, the reverse-along a good road, in a charming country. In the latter case, the time, during the journey, seems short; though it seems long in our recollection after it in the former case, it is long during the journey, and short in our computation afterwards. All this depends upon the number and character of the ideas and emotions passing through the mind, in the opposite cases respectively. Real objects, of course, leave a stronger impression, than ideas only; and are more truly recorded. With regard to future time, and distant place, suspense makes the interval seem long or short, according as the object excites our fear or hope. Nor must it be forgotten the different instants of computation: before a thing has arrived-when it has passed -and while it is actually passing. So instinct with activity is our nature, that, except in the very soundest sleep, there is a constant change and succession of perceptions, ideas, and emotions in the mind. In metaphysics it is still true, that "Nature abhors a vacuum." We can certainly chain our attention to an object: we can transfer that attention: -we can stop, accelerate, retard the train of ideas. But still there must be a succession and change, just as the pulse must beat, while we have life, and the lungs heave: or just as in inanimate nature, the rain and breezes-the influence of the sunthe tides of the sea-must incessantly act and re-act—and the planetary system revolve. Every thing is progressive here: we must, (as EPICTETUS says) "BE UP AND BE DOING SOMETHING." All our contemplations tend to action: we are free agents, it is true, |