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her sympathy was not extended, have unsparingly shorn her name of its just proportion, and " "gibbetted her memory to the derision of all future time."-R. White's MSS.

Fair 'Mabel' of Wallington.

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HEN we were silly sisters seven, sisters [we] were so fair,

Five of us were brave knights wives, and died in child-bed fair,

Up then spake fair

If ever she came in

Make no vows fair

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Mabel,' marry wou'd she nane,

man's bed the same gate wad she gang.

Mabel,' for fear they broken be,

Here's been the knight of Wallington asking good will of thee. Here's been the knight [of Wallington], mother, asking good-will

of me;

Within three-quarters of a year you may come bury me.

When she came to Wallington, and into Wallington-hall,
There she spy'd her mother dear walking about the wall.
You're welcome, daughter dear, to thy castle and thy bower.
I thank you kindly, mother, I hope they'll soon be your's.
She had not been in Wallington three-quarters and a
day,
Till upon the ground she could not walk, she was a weary prey;
She had not been in Wallington three-quarters and a night,
Till on the ground she cou'd not walk, she was a weary wight."
Is there ne'er a boy in this town who'll win hose and shun,
That will run to fair Pudlington, and bid my mother come?
Up then spake a little boy, near unto [her] a-kin,
Full oft I have your errands gone, but now I will it run.
Then she call'd her waiting-maid to bring up bread and wine:
Eat and drink, my bonnie boy, thou'll ne'er eat more of mine:
Give my respects to mother, as [she] 'sits' in her chair of stone,
And ask her how she likes the news of seven to have but one.

Give my love to my brother William, Ralph, and John;
And to my sister Betty fair, and to her white as bone,
And bid her keep her maidenhead, be sure make much on't,
For if e'er she come in man's bed the same gate will she gang.
Away this little boy is gone as fast as he could run,
When he came where brigs were broke he lay down and 'swum.'
When he saw the lady, he said, Lord may your keeper be!
What news, my pretty boy, 'hast' thou to tell to me?

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Your daughter Mabel' orders me, as you sit in a chair of stone,
To ask you how you like the news of seven to have but one;
Your daughter gives commands as you sit in a chair of 'state,'
And bid you come to her sickening, her weary' lake-wake:
She gives command to her brother William, Ralph, and John;
To her sister Betty fair, and to her white [as] bone,

She bids her keep her maidenhead, besure make much on't,
For if e'er she come in man's bed the same gate wou'd she gang.
She kickt the table with her foot, she kickt it with her knee,
The silver plate into the fire so far she made it flee:
Then she call'd her waiting-maid to bring her riding-hood,
So did she on her stable-groom to bring her steed so good:'
Go saddle to me the black, go saddle to me the brown,
Go saddle to me the swiftest steed that e'er rid Wallington.
When she came to Wallington, and into Wallington-hall,
There she espy'd her son Fenwick walking about the wall.

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God save you, dear son, Lord may your keeper be!
Where is my daughter fair, that used to walk with thee?
He turn'd his head round about, the tears did fill his eye;
"Tis a month, he said, since she took her chambers from me.
She went on, and there were in the hall

Four and twenty ladies letting the tears down fall:

Her daughter had a scope into her chest, and into her chin,
All to keep her life till her dear mother came.

Come take the rings off my finger, the skin it is [so] white,
And give them to my mother dear, for she was all the 'weight;'
Come take the rings off my fingers, the veins are so red,
Give them to sir William Fenwick, I'm sure his heart will bleed.
She took out a razor, that was both sharp and fine,
And out of her left side has taken the heir of Wallington.
There is a race in Wallington, and that I rue full sare,

Tho' the cradle it be full spread up, the bride-bed is left bare.

THE DEATH OF CLAVERING.

N Stanton township in the parish of LongHorseley, Northumberland, the remains of a stone cross are yet to be seen, of which the Rev. John Hodgson, in his history of the county, thus briefly makes mention:

"On the Lime kiln flats about a quarter of a mile north of the village a stone cross still stands in a field on the east side of the way, which the tradition of the neighbourhood says was set up in memory of a gentleman of the name of Clavering being slain on the spot in an encounter with a party of Scots." In the ensuing verses this unfortunate person is presumed to have been a member of the house of Callally, a matter which the pedigree of that family might perhaps throw some light on. The best apology perhaps that can be offered for them, is that they have in some respects followed the model of a very beautiful ballad, however slight may be their resemblance. The ballad alluded to may be found in "Percy's Reliques." described The Braes of Yarrow.'

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OURN! Mourn! Callally for the gentle Clavering,
Whose life at Stanton stone cross the foul Scots

Pla-ce-bo's at Brinckburn the holy monck's shall sing

Cut off in all his sins,-unhouseled and unshriven.

Woe's the day Callally! that thus the youth should die,
And cursed be the hand that did his life unsever;
Lamenting o'er his fate, how fills the tearful eye,
A bonnier youth than he, there never was, no never.

Most cheerful was the morn, ay, bright, bright, was the morn,
When he left his home and prom'sed at eve returning;
His sisters did his doublet with flowers sweet adorn,
But oh! at vesper-time, at Callally all was mourning.

Stark were then his wounds, and his long, his dark brown hair
Was all steep'd in gore, and his broadsword it was broken:

Gash'd was the face that had been fairest of the fair;
Ah! the gold around his neck, it was his true love's token.

His true love-pereless maid, how did she woeful weep,
And how did her sobs and sighs re-echo through the valley;
For ever from her eyes was banished sweet sleep;
These the words she would repeat-"Alas the day Callally."
And will his kinsmen bold, will they avenge his loss?
Yes! on the traitrous Scots-though routed they will rally,
Their war-cry then shall be, "Remember Stanton cross,
And the rose that there was cropt, the flower of Callally."
Temple, London.
Frederic R. Surtees.

ANECDOTES.

A person of the name of Collins, who lived at Kilmerston, near Wooler, in Northumberland, had a tame otter (Lutra Vulgaris), which followed him whereever he went. He frequently took it to fish in the river, and when satiated it never failed to return to him. One day, in the absence of Collins, the otter, being taken out to fish by his son, instead of returning as usual, refused to come at the accustomed call, and was lost. The father tried every means in his power to recover the animal; and, after several days search, being near the place where his son had lost it, and calling it by name, to his inexpressible joy it came creeping to his feet, and shewed many marks of affection and attachment.-Bewick.

Some years since, at a bull baiting in the north of England, when the barbarous practice of bull baiting was very common, a young man, confident of the spirit of his bull dog, laid a wager that he would at seperate times, cut off all the animal's feet, and that he would continue to attack the bull after each amputation. The experiment was tried, and the brutal wretch won his wager.-Ent. Nat.

A Jay (Garrulus glandarius) kept by a person in the north of England, had learned at the approach of cattle to set a cur dog upon them, by whistling and calling him by his name. One winter during a severe frost the dog was by this means excited to attack a cow that was big with calf, when the poor animal fell on the ice, and was much hurt. The Jay was complained of as a nuisance, and its owner was obliged to destroy it.-Ibid.

OUR LADY'S WELLS.

Of auncient time there was a springing well,
From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,
Full of great vertues, and for med'cine good.
Whylome, before that cursed dragon got
That happy land, and all with innocent blood
Defiled those sacred waues, it rightly hot
The well of life: ne yet his vertues had forgot.

SPENSER.

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EAR Longwitton-hall, Northumberland, there is an agreeable walk for nearly a mile, by a woody dingle, called the Deneburn, a lovely and romantic spot, sheltered on all sides by the steep and well wooded banks of the Hart. In an adjacent wood, are three wells, called by the people of the neighbourhood Our Lady's Wells, and The Holy-wells. They are all chalebyate, contain sulphur and alumine, and were formerly in high reputation through the neighbourhood for their "very virtuous" qualities. That farthest to the east is called the Eye well, on account of its beneficial effects in cases of inflammation of the eyes, and flux of the lachrymal humour. It has a very antient inscription, in four lines, in the rock immediately above it; but many of the letters have been purposely defaced, and to me it seemed illegible. Great concourses of people from all parts, also used to assemble here in the memory of old people "Midsummer Sunday and the Sunday following" and amuse themselves with leaping, eating gingerbread brought for sale to the spot, and drinking the waters of the wells. A tremendous dragon too, that could make itself invisible, formerly guarded these fountains, till the famous knight, Guy earl of Warwick, wandering in quest of chivalrous employment, came this way and waged battle with the monster. With words that could not be disobeyed, the winged serpent was commanded from his den, and to keep his natural and visible form; but as often as the knight wounded him, and his strength from loss of blood began to fail, he glided back, dipt his tail into the well,

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