me, how shall I behave? It's a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem. Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never control your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent understanding. Miss Hard. Is he? Hard. Very generous. Miss Hard. I believe I shall like him. Hard. Young and brave. Miss Hard. I'm sure I shall like him. Hard. And very handsome. Miss Hard. My dear papa say no more (kissing his hand), he's mine, I'll have him. Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful, and reserved young fellows in all the world. Miss Hard. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word, reserved, has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband. Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. It was the very feature in his character that first struck me. Miss Hard. He must have more striking features to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so everything, as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him. Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager he may not have you. Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so ?-Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery; set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer. Hard. Bravely resolved! In the meantime I'll go and prepare the servants for his reception; as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits the first day's muster. (Exit. Miss Hard. Oh, dear, this news of papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, handsome; these he put last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, goodnatured; I like all that. But then reserved, and sheepish; that's much against him. Yet can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife? Yes, and can't I—But I vow I'm disposing of the husband, before I have secured the lover. ACT II.-SCENE I.-A Room in HARDCASTLE'S House. Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by Three or Four awkward SERVANTS. Hard. Well, I hope you're perfect in the table exercise I have been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your places, and can show that you have been used to good company, without stirring from home. All. Ay, Ay. Hard. When company comes, you are not to pop out and stare, and then run in again, like frighted rabbits in a warren. All. No, no. Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a show at the side-table; and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you're not to stand so, with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger; and from your head, you blockhead you. See how Diggory carries his hands. They're a little too stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter. Digg. Ay, mind how I hold them. when I was upon drill for the militia. Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating. I learned to hold my hands this way Digg. By the laws, your worship, that's parfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forwards, he's always wishing for a mouthful himself. Hard. Blockhead, is not a mouthful in the kitchen as good as a mouthful in the parlour? Stay your stomach with that reflection. Digg. I thank your worship; I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry. Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then if I happen to say good thing, or tell a good story, at table, you must not all burst out alaughing, as if you made part of the company. Digg. Then, your worship must not tell the story of Ould Grouse in the gunroom; I can't help laughing at that-he! he he!-for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years-ha! ha! ha! Hard. Ha! ha! ha! The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that—but still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for a glass of wine, how will you behave? "A glass of wine, sir, if you please?" (To Diggory)-Eh, why don't you move? Digg. Oh, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upon the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion. Hard. What, will nobody move? 1 Serv. I'm not to leave this place. 2 Serv. I'm sure its no place of mine. 3 Serv. Nor mine, for sartain. Digg. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine. Hard. You num skulls! and, so, while, like your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved. O, you dunces! I find I must begin all over again.--But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard! To your posts, you blockheads! I go in the meantime and give my old friend's son a hearty welcome at the gate. MAGNA CHARTA.-HALLAM. HENRY HALLAM, a distinguished historian, was born at Windsor in 1777, and was educated at Eton and Oxford. His chief works are, "A View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages;" "An Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the 15th, 16th, and 17th Centuries;" and a "Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII, to the Death of George II." He died in 1859. 1. In the reign of John, all the rapacious exactions usual to the Norman kings were not only redoubled, but mingled with other outrages of tyranny still more intolerable. These too were to be endured at the hands of a prince utterly contemptible for his folly and cowardice. One is surprised at the forbearance displayed by the barons, till they took arms at length in that confederacy which ended in establishing the Great Charter of Liberties. As this was the first effort towards a legal government, so is it beyond comparison the most important event in our history, except that revolution without which its benefits would rapidly have been annihilated. The constitution of England has indeed no single date from which its duration is to be reckoned. The institutions of positive law, the far more important changes which time has wrought in the order of society, during six hundred years subsequent to the Great Charter, have undoubtedly lessened its direct application to our present circumstances. But it is still the key-stone of English liberty. All that has since been obtained is little more than as confirmation or commentary; and if every subsequent law were to be swept away, there would still remain the bold features that distinguish a free from a despotic monarchy. 2. It has been lately the fashion to depreciate the value of Magna Charta, as if it had sprung from the private ambition of a few selfish barons, and redressed only some feudal abuses. It is indeed of little importance by what motives those who obtained it were guided. The real characters of men most distinguished in the transactions of that time are not easily determined at present. Yet if we bring these ungrateful suspicions to the test, they prove destitute of all reasonable foundation. An equal distribution of civil rights to all classes of freemen forms the peculiar beauty of the charter. In this just solicitude for the people, and in the moderation which infringed upon no essential prerogative of the monarchy, we may perceive a liberality and patriotism very unlike the selfishness which is sometimes rashly imputed to those ancient barons. And, as far as we are guided by historical testimony, two great men, the pillars of our church and state, may be considered as entitled beyond all the rest to the glory of this monument; Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, and William, Earl of Pembroke. To their temperate zeal for a legal government, England was indebted during that critical period for the two greatest blessings that patriotic statesmen could confer; the establishment of civil liberty upon an immovable basis, and the preservation of national independence under the ancient line of Sovereigns, which rasher men were about to exchange for the dominion of France. 3. By the Magna Charta of John, reliefs were limited to a certain sum, according to the rank of the tenant, the waste committed by guardians in chivalry restrained, the disparagement in matrimony of female wards forbidden, and widows secured from compulsory marriage. These regulations, extending to the sub-vassals of the crown, redressed the worst grievances of every military tenant in England. The franchises of the city of London and of all towns and boroughs were declared inviolable. The freedom of commerce was guaranteed to alien merchants. The Court of Common Pleas, instead of following the king's person, was fixed at Westminster. The tyranny exercised in the neighbourhood of royal forests met with some check, which was further enforced by the charter of forests under Henry III. 4. But the essential clauses of Magna Charta are those which protect the personal liberty and property of all freemen, by giving security from arbitrary imprisonment and arbitrary spoliation. "No freeman" (says the twenty-ninth chapter of Henry III.'s charter, which, as the existing law, I quote in preference to that of John, the variations not being very material) “shall be taken or imprisoned, or be disseised of his freehold, or liberties, or free customs, or be outlawed, or exiled, or any otherwise destroyed; nor will we pass upon him, nor send upon him, but by lawful judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land. We will sell to no man, we will not deny, or delay to any man judgment or right." It is obvious that these words, interpreted by any honest court of law, convey an ample security for the two main rights of civil society. From the æra, therefore, of King John's charter, it must have been a clear principle of our constitution, that no man can be detained in prison without trial. Whether courts of justice framed the writ of Habeas Corpus in conformity to the spirit of this clause, or found it already in their register, it became from that æra the right of every subject to demand it. That writ, rendered more actively remedial by the statute of Charles II., but founded upon the broad basis of Magna Charta, is the principal bulwark of English liberty; and if ever temporary circumstances, or the doubtful plea of political necessity, shall lead men to look on its denial with apathy, the most distinguishing characteristic of our constitution will be effaced. 5. As the clause recited above protects the subject from any absolute spoliation of his freehold rights, so others restrain the excessive amercements which had an almost equally ruinous operation. The magnitude of his offence, by the fourteenth clause of Henry III.'s charter, must be the measure of his fine; and in every case the contenement (a word expressive of chattels necessary to each man's station, as the arms of a gentleman, the merchandize of a trader, the plough and waggons of a peasant) was exempted from seizure. A provision was made in the charter of John, that no aid or escuage should be imposed, except in the three feudal cases of aid, without consent of Parliament. And this was extended to aids paid by the city of London. But the clause was omitted in the three charters granted by Henry III., though Parliament seems to have acted upon it in most part of his reign. It had, however, no reference to tallages imposed upon towns without their consent. Fourscore years were yet to elapse before the great principle of Parliamentary taxation was explicitly and absolutely recognized. 6. A law which enacts that justice shall neither be sold, denied, nor delayed, stamps with infamy that government under which it had become necessary. But from the time of the charter, according to Maddox, the disgraceful perversions of right, which are upon record in the rolls of the exchequer, became less frequent. 7. From this æra a new soul was infused into the people of England. Her liberties, at the best long in abeyance, became a tangible possession, and those indefinite aspirations for the laws of Edward the Confessor were changed into a steady regard for the Great Charter. ra'pacious, greedy. intol'erable, unbearable. confederacy, league. anni'hilated, brought to nothing. SPELL AND PRONOUNCE constitu'tion, the po- 20 confirm'ation, strengthening. com'mentary, an explanation. sub'sequent, following. |