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her intellectual faculties, or the acquirement of a new idea, gives her a vivid pleasure, which is plainly marked in her expressive features. She never seems to repine, but has all the buoyancy and gaiety of childhood. She is fond of fun and frolic, and when playing with the rest of the children, her shrill laugh sounds loudest of the group.

“«When left alone, she seems very happy if she have her knitting or sewing, and will busy herself for hours: if she have no occupation, she evidently amuses herself by imaginary dialogues, or by recalling past impressions ; she counts with her fingers, or spells out names of things which she has recently learned, in the manual alphabet of the deaf mutes. In this lonely self communion she seems to reason, reflect, and argue: if she spell a word wrong with the fingers of her right hand, she instantly strikes it with her left, as her teacher does, in sign of disapprobation; if right, then she pats herself upon the head, and looks pleased. She sometimes purposely spells a word wrong with the left hand, looks roguish for a moment and laughs, and then with the right hand strikes the left, as if to correct it.

During the year she has attained great dexterity in the use of the manual alphabet of the deaf mutes; and she spells out the words and sentences which she knows so fast and so deftly, that only those accustomed to this language can follow with the eye the rapid motion of her fingers.

* • But wonderful as is the rapidity with which she writes her thoughts upon the air, still more so is the ease and accuracy with which she reads the words thus written by another ; grasping their hands in hers, and following every movement of their fingers, as letter after letter conveys their meaning to her mind. It is in this way that she converses with her blind playmates, and nothing can more forcibly show the power of mind in forcing matter to its purpose, than a meeting between them. For if great talent and skill are necessary for two pantomimes to paint their thoughts and feelings by the movements of the body, and the expression of the countenance, how much greater the difficulty when darkness shrouds them both, and the one can hear no sound !'”

“ The Kaiser laughed : · Such cares, fond boy,

Would ill thy thoughts engage. Take thou this wreath of idle flowers :

'Tis fitter for thine age !
Go, dance with girls,— with striplings play,

And leave this foolish quest!'
The young man answered not a word,

But hell was in his breast.
" It was not for the castles old,

The woods and meadows fair,
And all that by his birth belonged

To Suabia's rightful heir ;
It was not for the loss of land-

Such wrong he might have borne :
But it was for the sneering laugh,

And for the bitter scorn ! “ He sought his friends, the young, the rash,

Like him with souls of fire,
Who shared the anguish of his shame,

The fury of his ire :
Rudolph von Palm, with muttered oath,

Vowed vengeance on his lord ;
And Eschenbach in silence laid

His hand upon his sword.
“ And when they reached the river's brink,

Where all must ferry o'er,
They pressed into the Kaiser's boat,

Just ere it left the shore :
They filled the boat, and, as the boat

Swept o'er the calm blue tide,
Courtiers and guards were forced to stay

Upon the river's side. “ They landed in a new-ploughed field,

And forward took their way,
Where, in the morning's pearly light,

Old Habsburg's Castle lay.
That fastness well the Kaiser knew,

For thence his sire had gone,
To change a warrior's battle steed

Against an emperor's throne. “ And as he gazed on those grey towers,

And paused with thoughtful sigh, He saw not the uplifted arm

The poniard glittering nigh!
He saw not-till upon the plain,

Stretched by a sudden blow,
Whilst from a deep wound in his throat

The life-blood 'gan to flow.”
“ Why, father, dost thou shake? And why

This mournful tale rehearse??" “ I tell thee, son, that on that deed

Lay more than murder's curse !
For whosoe'er was aiding there

To fell the imperial oak,
It was a kinsman's steel that dealt

The surest, keenest stroke !
“ They fled, though on the wind was borne

No loud pursuer's cry;
They fled from that reproachful look,

And from that glazing eye;
They fled, and left him quite alone,

The lord of all the land-
None to sustain the clammy brow,

Or clasp the nerveless hand.
“ Until a peasant woman came,

And knelt beside him there,
And vainly tried to stanch the blood

With her long-flowing hair :
She laid his head upon her lap,

She held his fingers fast,
And with a mother's tender heart

Watched o'er him to the last.
" But to his murderers, from that day,

Did never luck betide;
By torture on the scaffold some,

And some in madness died :
And for the prince, who led them on

Their souls with gore to stain,
By those who knew him of old time,
He ne'er was seen again.

JOHANNES PARRICIDA.

A BALLAD.
It is an aged man, who lies

Upon his dying bed.
“ 0, father! let me place my hand

Beneath thy drooping head ;
And drink thou of this healing draught !"

“My son, 'tis all in vain.
No drug can stay the ebbing life,

Or case me of my pain."
“ Then let me fetch the reverend priest,

Who comes with good intent,
To shrive the sinner, and to bring

The holy sacrament !"
“ Alas for me! no priest I need :

But, ere my senses fail,
Approach, kind youth, that thou mayst hear

A true and woful tale!
“ The Kaiser * journeys forth in state

(Of earth the mightiest one),
Whilst round him all his nobles throng,

As sunbeams gird the sun;
He goes to tame the Switzer's pride,

Where those bold peasants dwell,
Who hailed with joy the vengeful shaft,

And bless the bow of Tell.
A youth of princely mien draws near,

As they move slowly on.
The Kaiser greets him with a smile :

• What would my nephew John ?'-
• My noble lord,' the young man said,

• I come to ask of thee
Those lands, which from my father's house

Of right descend to me.' * Kaiser Albert I., the son of Rudolph von Habsburg. The fatal journey commemorated in this ballad took place in the year 1083.

“ He walked in gloom from place to place,

known to have consulted Moreau the Chiromancian. In short, He bowed at many a shrine,

wherever the light of faith was withdrawn, an abundant growth But ne'er upon his darkness broke

of such errors followed. Melancthon seems to have reserved One ray of light divine.

all his fixedness of belief for Pagan superstition; so that an Through weeks and months he wandered on,

extraordinary overflow of the Tiber, and a mule being delivered And still he rested not,

of a foal with an ill-shapen foot, appeared to him as signs that But shunned alike the lordly hall,

something serious was at hand; while the birth of a calf with The shepherd's humble cot.

two heads was an omen, he thought, of the approaching destruc

tion of Rome by schism. The superstition of Luther was of the " At length he found a nook obscure,

grossest kind: he says himself that he saw at Dessau a child Where he was all unknown;

who was born of the devil, and that he told the princes of And many a year that lowly cell

Anhault, with whom he was, that if he had command there, he Re-echoed to his groan ;

would have the child thrown into the Moldau, at the risk of The iron girdle bound his waist,

being its murderer ; but that the princes were not of his opinion. The hair-shirt galled his skin,

While marrying at Torgau, the Duke Philip of Pomerania with But never could his soul from pain

the Elector's sister, in the midst of the ceremony the nuptial A moment's respite win.

ring fell to the ground; and he says that he had a sensation of

terror, but that he said, "Hear, devil, this does not concern you!" “ And when his turn arrived to go

Striking indeed was the contrast between the English tribuTo his inted place,

nals after the new opinions had been established by law, when And, like his lord, he only saw

women were weighed against church Bibles, to ascertain One stranger's pitying face

whether they should be burnt as witches, and the conduct of Bend o'er him 'mid the pangs and strife

Catholic pontiffs, like Innocent III., who, when Philip of Of that tremendous time

France alleged a magical influence to excuse his remaining sepeA power was on him, and he told

rate from his wife, replied to him in these terms:- “O dear The story of his crime.

son, if you would have us believe that magicians are in fault, “ No more-no more-these eyes wax dim;

you must first have recourse to prayer, alms, and the holy My strength, my senses fail.

sacrifice, taking to you your spouse faith and the fear of What thou hast heard, kind youth, forget!

God; and then we shall see whether magicians can prevail." 'Twas but an old man's tale!

While Italy beheld her philosophers coming to the aid of When I am gone, O! lay my bones

priests in denouncing superstition, England heard herimmortal Where the rank grass will grow,

Bacon affirming that truth might be found in a well-regulated And no recording stone proclaim

astrology. Indeed, wherever the new religious opinions had The wretch that sleeps below!"

ALPHA. superseded divine faith, every horrible thing which the Catholic

church had been for ages engaged in combating seemed to Religion OF THE Ghiljis.—The testimony of Ferishta, gain fresh vigour. De Foe's account of the superstitions of the while clearly distinguishing the Ghilji tribes from the Affghans, citizens of London during the plague in 1665, will furnish evialso establishes the fact of their early conversion to Islám: dence enough: he confesses that he was himself inclined to still there is a tradition that they were, at some time, Christians regard the comet as the warning of God's judgments. “The of the Armenian and Georgian Churches. It is asserted that people were more addicted to prophecies and astrological conthey relapsed, or became converts to Mahomedanism, from jurations, dreams, and old wives' tales, then ever they were, not having been permitted by their pastors to drink buttermilk before or since. Books frightened them terribly, such as Lilly's on fast-days. A whimsical cause, truly, for secession from a Almanack, Gadbury's Astrological Predictions, and the like. faith ; yet not so whimsical but that, if the story be correct, it Next to these were the dreams of old women, or the interpretamight have influenced a whimsical people. This tradition is tion of old women upon other people's dreams; and these put known to the Armenians of Caubul; and they instance, as abundance of people even out of their wits.” These unhappy corroborating it, the practice observed by the Ghiljis, of em- men, who would not recognise God in the mystery of love broidering the front parts of the gowns or robes of their present upon the altar, saw apparitions in the air-saw flaming females and children with figures of the cross; and the custom swords coming out of a cloud saw hearses and coffins in the of their housewives, who, previous to forming their dough into sky, and heaps of dead hodies saw ghosts upon the gravecakes, cross their arms over their breasts, and make the sign stones. “Now was the city filled with fortune-tellers, cunning of the cross on their foreheads after their own manner. - men, and astrologers, and a wicked generation of pretenders Masson's Afghanistan. Vol. 2, p. 208.

to magic; and this trade grew so open, that it was common to HIERESY AND SUPERSTITION.-During the middle ages, the have signs and inscriptions over doors—llere lives a fortunemen who waged war against the church, either with violent teller,' or astrologer;'— 'Here you may have your nativity arms or with the subtity of a false wisdom, were all addicted calculated;' and the usual signs were Bacon's Brazen Head, or to superstition in some form or other. Fitz Eustace need not Mother Shipton, or Merlin's Head. Many were thrown into have wondered as he did at the conduct of his Lord Marmion, the dead cart with hellish charms lianging about their necks, on the night when they lodged in the hostel :

such as the word Abracadabra formed in triangle or inverted pyWonder it seem'd, in the squire's eyes,

rawid." Thelate author of "Letters on Demonology" thinks that That one, so wary held, and wise

Chaucer could not be serious in averring that the fairy superof whom 'twas said he scarce receiv'd

stitions were obsolete in his day, since they were found current For gospel what the church believ'd

three centuries afterwards. Had he reflected upon the councils, Should, stirr'd by idle tale, Ride forth in silence of the night,

the bulls of sovereign pontiffs, the exertions of the monks and As hoping half to meet a sprite,

friars, to whom Chaucer expressly ascribes the expulsion, at an Array'd in plate and mail.

early period, from the land of all such spirits, he would never Julian believed, with Herod, in the transmigration of souls, have used such an argument. The superstitions and Pagan and that he had been Alexander the emperor. Frederick II., rites which still linger on the banks of the Tamar and the Tavy, who disdained the wisdom of the church, had always some as well as in other parts of England, are rather a second harvest Arabian astrologers at his side, without whose advice he under than the original crop untouched. A tribe of fortune-tellers is took nothing. Wallenstein, who disdained the exercise of generally found among the ruins of Netley Abbey : are we to piety, had recource to the stars to learn what would be the conclude, with this author, that the monks could not have supsuccess of bis projects. Eccelino, who was a heretic as well as pressed that evil, because we find it there at the present day? a persecutor of monks, and as such condemned by the church, The fact is, that superstition is a weed of quick growth, which had astrologers always with him, calculating and divining, by is no sooner neglected than it sends up vigorous shoots. whose advice he used to give battle: lic had Master Salio, a “ Life is so tender and mysterious, so pliant and volatile, that canon of Padua, Riprandino of Verona, Guido of Bonato, and there is no seed it will not readily receive; evil sprouts up and Paul the Saracen, with a long beard, who came from Baldach runs wild in it, and brings up the intoxicating grape from the and the remote regions of the east. When enveloped at the nether world, and the wine of horror;" so that wlien the light bridge of Cassino, over the Adda, by a superior force, he shud- of faith has failed, and the organization of the church become dered; for his astrologers had told him that this place would powerless, after three centuries it is not surprising that there be fatal to him. The last ruler who laid violent hands on the should be an abundant harvest of all that the fiend most loves. vicar of Christ believed in the occult powers of fate, and was - Mores Catholici.

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66

WHITE BOYS.

“ these laws are seldom put in execution. Is property, is An intelligent Irish Protestant, writing in the year 1777,* parental authority to depend upon the courtesy of an after citing with approbation Sir Jolin Davies's famous avaricious malignant neighbour, or the gratitude of a panegyric of the soil, air, and ports of Ireland, and the profligate abandoned child? Damocles was perhaps safe natural abilities of her people, remarked that the country

under the suspended sword of Dionysius; but the apprewas then verging on depopulation, and the inhabitants “ hension of danger scared away those visions of happiness either“ moping under the sullen gloom of inactive indi

“ which he had seen in the envied pomp of tyranny." gence, or blindly asserting the rights of nature in noc-|(pp. 252—99.) We shall illustrate our author's meaning “ turnal insurrections ;” or, as he afterwards says, star- by some extracts from Mr. Banim's book. “ light insurrections, disavowed by everybody." These Excluded by one of the penal laws from the right of disturbers, he adds, were “originally called Levellers, from educating themselves—their creed proscribed-their worship “ their levelling the enclosures of commons, but now White forbidden under heavy penalties--and their priests hunted

Boys, from their wearing their shirts over their coats, for like foxes into caverns and other hiding-places by the blood“the sake of distinction in the night.” He hazarded many hounds who sought their lives—the peasantry of Ireland, in conjectures as to the causes of their discontent, but without the middle of last century, were left in poverty, bitterness, exactly touching the truth. He denied that the priests and ignorance, without advisers, without comforters, to were at the bottom of it, and referred to a pamphlet that exact vengeance instead of redress from the immediate appeared eleven years before upon this subject for the agents of their wretchedness. The basest and most insigproofs of his assertion. Herein he was right. But in doubt- nificant of the Protestants were precisely those who enforced ing that the disaffection of the Irish people had any refer- the rigid letter of those laws; and they did it with impunity, ence whatever to religious questions, he clearly went too far. for, besides the arms which they alone were privileged to Mr. Banim, in a very clever chapter of his “ Crohoore of carry, they were sure of the connivance, if not of the the Billhook,” has so clearly and pointedly stated the true active concurrence, of the magistrates. Near Kilkenny, grievances which stung these unhappy men into crime, that about that very time, three or four mean Protestant mewe cannot do better than make use of what he has said. chanics, with guns in their hands, came upon a priest at mass The original cause that immediately brought them together in the open air before a rural congregation. Without more may have been what the Protestant author states on the ado, the wretches fired among the crowd, killed some of them, authority of another pamphlet of the year 1762, viz., the and wounded the priest himself. We regret to observe in enclosure of commons by their landlords, in defiance of passing, that this spirit still exists wherever Protestantism is their compacts. Yet, once in arms, it is easy to suppose insolent. We refer especially to the counties of Tyrone, that they would not be contented with abating this griev- Monaghan, Derry, Armagh, Down, and Fermanagh. ance, if greater ones remained unredressed. Accordingly

The peasant so dealt with hated the dominant sect, behe tells us, but evidently without understanding the case, cause it was privileged to persecute the Catholic Church, that they “ began to direct their vengeance against the and because it used that privilege. What was an ad

clergy, and with such effect, that "it became the policy ditional exasperation, it was on him, and not his absentee " of the landlord and grazier to cherish, or at least connive head landlord, nor his immediate landlord the grazier-it “ at the spirit of curtailing the Church of its pittance.' was on him, the persecuted Catholic, the rack-rented cottier, He then mentions, that in some places the White Boys that the burthen exclusively fell of supporting the sectarian forbade any man from helping the parson to let his tithes, clergy in their splendour and insolence. The hard-earned under pain of losing his nose, or ears, or both. “ In other pittance he could not afford to the priest was wrung from

places they refuse absolutely to pay those dues ;” nor him by the law, and handed over to the Protestant parson, does he wonder at that. The Irish Commons had' voted who exacted it to the last farthing, and, so that he got it, agistment tithe illegal, to the direct profit of graziers, seemed quite indifferent to the bitter discontent of his which all the middlemen then were : and thus tithe fell miserable debtor, or the manner of the collection. Yet the exclusively upon tillage. The grazier who paid £10,000 manner of collecting the tithe was the immediate spur to the a year rent was actually tithed less than his tenant who headlong course of the frantic peasant. The tyranny of tilled his ten acres. ilence “ the country was almost the tithe-proctor—a race now happily extinct, since tithes " usurped by bullocks and sheep;” and as to the people, have been commuted was exquisite indeed. Peery Clancy, “the state 'not being their friend, nor the state's laiv, tithe-proctor for the parish of Clarah, in Mr. Banim's tale

they became constant enemies to the state.” This in already mentioned, is no fancy-sketch. The book appeared truth was the real seat of the malady. As to the causes in 1825, a period when the species was abundant enough, that produced it, whatever they were, like the malady it and he assures us that both the man and the statements are self, they were not general, but local. This the authoriti carefully copied from the life. We may rely, therefore, on already cited, as well as those which follow, abundantly the faithfulness of their delineation. prove. The story of a wide-spread organization, embracing Peery Clancy was a Catholic of very bad character, but Ireland, or even one province of Ireland, was a silly fiction, as poor as Job. After failing in every speculation of early and is not worth serious notice. White Boys there were, in life--after being once in gaol for debt and once for sheepmore districts than one, because in more than one district stealing-he found himself, at the age of fifty, an old man there was disaffection. But the insurgents had not a com- without credit. Hie was a waddling fellow, of queerly mon leader, nor perhaps a common grievance. Each district jumbled manners. If you looked at his pursed brow and had its own grievance to redress, and its own mode of doing it. clenched teeth, you pronounced him a bully; but his rambling There were as many lealers as districts. The same may be eye, his fidgety and wincing manner, and the awkward said of the Rockites, Terry Alts, and Ribbonmen of modern seesawing of his arm as he spoke to you, almost tempted times. They inherited from their White Boy predecessors, you to recall that opinion, to forget his years, and to among other characteristics, their purely local organizations, imagine him a shamefaced brat, fearful of the deserved and each one was quite independent of its neighbour. whipping. Ilis speech was mule up of rude assertions,

When our readers are informed that all the penal laws frightful oaths, and obscene jests, little becoming his were at that time in full force, most of them can pretty grey hairs. Such was the man who, at the above age, well guess at the condition of the Irish people. Our author changed his plans once more, and suddenly blazed up in the was himself struck with the absurdity of keeping alive such new character of tithe-proctor. Matters now changed with wicked laws. “ The Irish,” he says, are no longer out him in their turn. A certain air of purse-pride began to “ laws and enemies; but they are in many respects aliens. blend itself with the strange manner of the man. His “ Can partial laws command more than partial obedience? ample clothes (twice as large as were necessary) began to " If a yoke be heavy, will it not gall? If chains are iron, be of the best texture and a half-city-cut, which really " will they not sometimes rattle? Let it not be argued that gave him a look of wealth and superiority: in fact, he had

become a wealthy man ; his coffers were strong-he could *A Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland, in a command a round thousand. Thus it was. Series of Letters to John Watkinson, M.D.," p. 293.

The very, very poorest were his best profit, his fat of the

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land, his milk and honey. Some got rid of him by satisfy

TALES OF TYNEDALE.—No. I. ing his exorbitant demands in the first instance; but these

“ It was a fearful looking for of judgment !” said Joe were they who satisfied him the least. The wretched man, the Quilterwho, from sunrise till many hours after sunset, bent be

Anticipating the question of the impatient reader, we neath the first malediction of our race, without earning interrupt old Joe's tale to say something of himself. more than the scantiest and meanest food, rags for his covering, and despair for his guest—this was the prey for hand, and in the days of quilted petticoats, many a

In the days of quilts or coverlets wrought with the Peery ! He would call on such a man for tithe. The crop poor man and woman gained a good living by the exwas not ripe, or it was a bad time to sell it. No matter; ercise of an art of which old Joe, of Holmer's Lane, was Peery would take Dermid's note of hand willingly. It was

probably, as he always called himself," the last practigiven : time wore on, and it became due ; but, the amount ioner.”; Those venerable articles, dedicated to the not being in the way when Peery called for it, Dermid had domestic comforts of our grandmothers, have already, in to give him a douceur, and to submit to some rude jests to most instances, passed from the memory of a generation his wife and daughter, such as made them blush ; and so the which has lived with spinning-jennies and steam-boilers ; note of hand was renewed. Meantime the crop had failed, and, but for a well-preserved padusoy, or a carefully-kept or perbaps seized for rack-rent and sold. From these or coverlet, the first court-dress of a grand-aunt, or the other casualties there is no provision to meet the assiduous wedding-bed cover of a great grandmother, the last relics Peery at bis next coming. Dermid has to sell some of his of the art of quilting—the art itself might have been added few potatoes, and, though he and his family are stinted of to the long list of the lost sciences: the buried knowledge even this miserable food by the act, he is enabled to pur- of an earlier age, which the industry of the present is chase another renewal of his note with another douceur. daily digging up, and eagerly applying to its own purBut when payment is demanded after the expiration of this poses. In proof of this spirit of revival, the venerable rethird term, he is worse than ever, as Peery well knows. The mains of a quilted petticoat of black and amber satin have tithe-proctor scowls and bullies, thunders ont by J. and actually been detected on the shoulders of a fashionable the Holy G—that he must be paid, and abruptly departs belle, in the form of a capote au cardinal ; a comfortable to issue what is called a citation to the Ecclesiastical Court. and appropriate transposition, concerning which the con

The original demand did not exceed one pound: the noisseur in costume may satisfy himself by actualinspection citation makes it more than double; then comes the de- any morning—that is about four o'clock in the afternooncree; and lastly, a civil process. Peery fills up the process in Regent-street, or any other fashionable "shopping” himself, thereby pocketing the fee of thirteen-pence Irish, locality. It was only on the wild borders of Tynedale, and which the law allows. The same fee is allowed in each nearly 20 years ago, that the last of the quilters plied his case for personal service; Peery, however, has perhaps a long needle; and, with spectacles on nose and slippered hundred others to serve. He hires a needy understrapper, feet, sat like an Indian idol on the farmhouse table, or at at twenty-pence a day, and two throws of whisky, to serve the window of his own lonely cottage, alternately drawthe whole batch, and fobs the difference himself. Dermid ing from his pouch the thread of silk or linen, and from is all this time incurring more debts to Peery: The under the tangled web of his memory the tattered thrums* of strapper, too, extorts from him another shilling for himself old tradition. While he restored with a bright crimson at the moment of serving him with the process, promising patch, and seamed with a fretted purple thread the green him, in return, his powerful interference, than which nothing or grey coverlet, fretted with the wearing of a century, is further from his inclination or ability. By the time that he drew together vivid sketches of old manners, with sessions have come on, Dermid has managed, by a desperate snatches of old song and fragments of old story; ming. effort, to scrape together the one pound originally de- ling the yarn, as it was often shrewdly suspected, with manded, and he tenders it. To his consternation he now 'cruel t drawn from the bottom of his own imagination. finds that is trebled; he says he is ruined; wrings his His stories, like his coverlets, were a patchwork of many hands; weeps perhaps. Peery hints, in bis brutal way, to stuffs and colours, “ Calimanky crimsons” and “ Monkey him that he has “ a well-lookin' wife and daatur” at home. '(that is Manchester) cottons,” which he never sewed on The diabolical jest is too much to be borne, but he dares without a thousand “psha’s” and “pishes," with an un. not vent his anger. The sessions decree in Peery's favour, ' usual shrug of the shoulders, an awful elevation of the and he carries off Dermid's only horse or cow to public nose and eyebrows, a holding of it up between himself auction, where, at one fourth of its value, it is knocked and the light, and a contemptuous comment on the flimdown to himself, to be resold soon after at a good profit. 'sinesss of all cheap, weaver-grinding, modern productions, He then charges the parson with the expenses of recovering as compared with the sound, labour-paid, fabrics of his own Dermid's tithe, setting off against them the auction price of day. the horse, and perhaps leaving his reverend employer a Poor Joe was murdered, in his 701h year, in his lone loser by the transaction. To sum up all Peery's winnings: cottage near the broken cross in the dreary Jane of the there are first the two douceurs ; next the fee for the Holm-keeper (“ Holmer's-lonning”), just above Warden process ; next the profit of 800 per cent. on serving it; then Mill, on the picturesque banks of the North Tyne, near the two pounds (at least) cleared upon the cow or horse; its confluence with the southern branch of that noble and lastly, the bill of costs against the parson, who was river, and within the abbey-lands of Hexham, in Northdoubtless pretty well fleeced in his turn. Well might this umberland. He was a prudent and industrious workman, pious Catholic relish bis evening bumper of whisky-punch a great favourite with the farmers' wives, and a welcome after closing such an account as this, and drink long life to visitor to the homes of the little "lairds” in his neighthe parson's tithes, and may they never fail him !

bourhood. It was generally believed that he had saved Meanwhile poor Dermid has gone to his dreary bovel, money; and to this belief it is supposed he owed his horsatisfied that for a papist, and especially a poor one, there rible death, the awful details of which are even yet a was no law nor mercy either. He bad 'heard himself de- familiar topic with the peasantry of Tynedale; for, creed in the sessions court; he had witnessed the knocking- strange to say, the murderer has to this hour escaped dedown of his “baste" for an old song. This, then, was the tection. end of all the sweat and suffering of which his life had been The lamentable fate of the old man cast a melancholy compounded. This agonising thought became the cud of halo around all that related to him ; and it is perhaps for his bitter rumination as he walked home. On the squalid this reason that his budget of traditions, carefully sifted threshold his children were crying for food; he heard and by a much-interested listener, is now, for the first time, therefore turned his back upon them; walked hastily abroad opened to the public. The following tale may be taken again ; kicked out of his way the idle spade; sought out as a fair specimen of the Quilter's collection. some dozen Dermids as ill off as himself; covenanted with them to take the tithe-law and its proctors into their own hands, and ratified that covenant with silly oaths, does not work.

* The tangled ends of the woof, in weaving, which the warp and the result was—the White Boys !

+ Worsted ravelled out.

A clew.

THE FALSE WITNESS.

Ay, ay, I know.–Well, Cuthbert Myddleton was “ It was a fearful looking for of judgment, I say, that married on the bonniest lass the English border ever bred. peeped out in everything that Cuthbert Myddleton did, She was promised to Gilbert Scott, of Ruberslaw, a slip said, or thought after that journey to London. The poor from Harden, grafted on Cavers, cut off in the auld time, wanweird * would come to market, but he could neither and growing rich among the woolcombers of Hawick, buy nor sell; he would come to church, but he could and the dyers of Jeddart; but all the water of the Teviot neither pray nur listen; he was aye at Ovingham Races, would not have washed the Tynedale blood off his hands, but he neither rode nor betted; he never missed Stain- for he was a reirer like his forebears, only, instead of shaw Bank fair, but who ever saw Cuthbert Myddleton meeting the English archers by daylight in ihe marches, in any dancing or diversiðn ? Every body kennd Cuth- he way laid the southern merchants at night on the hills. bert Myddleton, but he never gripped hands, or 'changed He wad stay praying at the meeting- house on a Sabbath, good wishes, with any of his auld acquaintance. At till all his men had gathered at the Cateran's-hole, or the church, at market, at fairs, and races, Cuthbert huddled Reedsuire-bar, and then drive away a score of pack horses himself up in the crowd, and seemed to feel easiest when loaded with English goods for Boswell's-green ; dirk the among a lot of strangers: was he seeking somebody that was merchants, and if any of them got away it was an easy na' there. He was pleased to find himself among men, but thing for a long faced covenanting hypocrite, that had sold it looked as if he couldna' bear to be alone with any one. his birthright for a slip of bad land, to buy a bit of Jed

" In the fine afternoons of summer he would wander away dart justice against the complaints of an Englisher. from his own neglected fields, and into the woods, and go Gibby's gold was bright enough to induce old Harbottle pondering up and down among the auld-ancient towers at to sell his daughter; but, aha! she liked Cuthbert Myd. Prudhoe, or far up the water to Langleydale, to bury him-'dleton, and he liked her, and it was no hard matter for a self in the castle that young Frank of Liddesdale was laird few lads of spirit from the fell and the forest to whisk off of lang syne, when Jock o' Hazeldean ran away wi' his wi’ Gilbert Scott, nag and all, from the wedding party, lass. He would be up on the high walls looking out and to frighten old Harbottle into fits by setting fire to like a watch keeper in the '45, but he never ventured his barns and his byers, while Myddleton galloped away down among the vaults. They were not considered canny wi' his Mary to St. John Lee, where they were coupled them old vaults; and if Cuthbert Myddleton was hardly up by the drunken auld anti-Jacobite curate, with a blunquite canny himself, he had o'er great a respect for the derbuss at one lug and a duck-gun at the other. As to evil one to force his way into his company. He grew Gilbert, whether he was thrown into the Thrum, or made bolder after a whil

to dive after the bells of Brinkburn, or slept with the "If the gloamin' fell in while Cuthbert was on his wan- fairies of Fawdon, or made his bed with the seven sleepers derings, he would put himself to wonderful speed to make at Sewen Shields, or was coiled up with the Laidley-worm home before the darkening. He would run a bit, and of Spindleston Heugh, nabody ever knew. His wealth was stand a bit, and listen and look round under his eyelashes, 'wasted by a profligate nephew, and naething was left of and then off again like a leather-plater, as if the whistling him but a lump of limestone, falsely calling itself marble, of the wind under his wig had feared him. Then that's stuck up in the kirk at Ancram, and is cut all over he would stand still again, and glowr up at the trees, or with lies about Mr. Gilbert Scott's “pious prayerfulness,' pick up a stick or a stone and talk to it as if it could godly course,' and his mysterious exit from a world of understand him, and then listen for its answer with a woe.'foolish stare just like the young Rector o' Rothbury, that's - Well, Joe--and Mary Myddleton ? little better than a fool, though his father was an arch- 66 There never was a bonnier lass, nor a better, and bishop. He's daft about the ribs of the earth and the oh, how Cuthbert thrived, and what lovely bairns she bore families of the rocks, while he cares as little as the stones him, and how he worked his farm, and looked to his themselves about the families o' the poor, or the ribs of lands, and gave up feasts and hoppins, and wrastled no their bairns. It's a fine thing to be a scholar, but the more, nor ever left his home for a fray; nor even tackled auld warld priests wore the gown of humility; pride came the Scotch pedlar for coming to show Mary his pack of in with a false speech about ministers, and preaching to silks and sattins and all manner of fineries. But, oh, that but where's Hexham Abbey ?"

Scotch pedlar! Why did Myddleton think for a minute Well, Joe, but where was Hexham Abbey in the '15? that anything but guile could come out of the mouth of “Ah, you're right, lad, to call me back to my story, but a Scotchman ?. This sneaking Sawney found out poor it was long after the rising that they called the rebellion of Cuthbert's kittle bane, his weak point: he provoked him '15 before Cuthbert Myddleton went wrong. He died with pictures of his young neighbours mounted and armed before the '45, and that's about fourscore years sin’syne ; for King James, and only waiting for the Earl of Derbut my mother's father kenned Cuthbert Myddleton, and wentwater and young Mr. Ratcliffe, to turn out against his half sister was at his wedding. He was an old man, the Whig rats that had swarmed over from Holland and my grandfather, when I was born, and all that I can Hanover, and kept down all true English blood and all mind about him is that he was sore vexed because I wadna' gentle breeding, and sent up tar-barrels and sugar-hogskiss him when I got on my first breeches. I was proud, heads, and all the traffick and trash of the kingdom to the and his beard was thorny."

parliament, to make laws about Church and State, while Well, Joe ?

The Church was defiled, and the State, that's the King, “ That wedding was the talk of the country-side. In was banished.” them days Cuthbert Myddleton would have been first at - Joe! Beefron when the horn sounded, and although the Yes, Jacobite Joe,' and I dinna care who calls me so. Scotch raids were long gane bye, the borders were not I don't know, but I would have done as Myddleton did if quiet in them days. A wrestling-match, or a shooting, I had been played upon as he was by that pedlar. He or a tryst, or a feast seldom ended without a fratch or a made Cuthbert' carry notes and letters, some to the Earl fray; and any holiday sport would hae called Cuthbert (but mair to my lady), from the great southern lords and Myddleton up to Castleton one way, or even to Eldon the great northern chiefs ; and the Fosters and the Fenanother, for it was a great delight to him to break a staff wickes and the Featherstons, and the Riddells and the over a Scotchman's head, as his fathers had done before Reeds and the Ridleys turned out, and—but ye can read him. He had never crossed the Carterbrae, nor hardly all about that in the books." ever saw a Scotchman, till warmed with whisky, and the - Yes; but what became of Myddleton ? same word served him for • Scotchman' and 'quarrel.' “ He was taken in arms, and carried to London and We all feel a little of that spirit yet, in spite of the union locked up in prison, and his farm was filled with soldiers, they should keep their own side of the border."

and Mary was at the point of death, and his bairns were But now, Joe, both sides of the border are

in danger; and all this he learned from the Scotch pedlar,

the wily loon, that had followed him to London and seemed * One who fights against his fa'e.

to keep the very keys of his dungeon in his pocket, for he

the poor ;

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