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Title: Literary Byways
Author: Andrews, William, 1848-1908
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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  Literary Byways

  By William Andrews



In the following pages no attempt has been made to add to the many
critical works authors bring under the notice of the public. My aim in
this collection of leisure-hour studies is to afford entertaining reading
on some topics which do not generally attract the reader's attention.

It is necessary for me to state that three of the chapters were originally
contributed to the columns of the _Chambers's Journal_, and by courtesy of
the Editor are reproduced in this volume.


            _July 5th, 1898_.



  AUTHORS AT WORK                                                    1

  THE EARNINGS OF AUTHORS                                           43

  DECLINED WITH THANKS                                              67

  EPIGRAMS ON AUTHORS                                               76

  POETICAL GRACES                                                   90

  POETRY ON PANES                                                   94

  ENGLISH FOLK-RHYMES                                              100

  THE POETRY OF TOAST LISTS AND MENU CARDS                         110

  TOASTS AND TOASTING                                              120

  CURIOUS AMERICAN OLD-TIME GLEANINGS                              131


  A PLAYFUL POET: MISS CATHERINE FANSHAWE                          149

  A POPULAR SONG WRITER: MRS. JOHN HUNTER                          160

  A POET OF THE POOR: MARY PYPER                                   167



  THE COTTAGE COUNTESS                                             199




  SHORT LETTERS                                                    228

  INDEX                                                            237


Authors at Work.

The interest of the public in those who write for its entertainment
naturally extends itself to their habits of life. All such habits, let it
be said at once, depend on individual peculiarities. One will write only
in the morning, another only at night, a third will be able to force
himself into effort only at intervals, and a fourth will, after the manner
of Anthony Trollope, be almost altogether independent of times and places.
The nearest approach to a rule was that which was formulated by a great
writer of the last generation, who said that morning should be employed in
the production of what De Quincey called "the literature of knowledge,"
and the evening in impassioned work, "the literature of power."

But habits, however unreasonable they may be, are ordinarily very powerful
with authors. One of the most renowned writers always attired himself in
evening dress before sitting down to his desk. The influence of his
attire, he said, gave dignity and restraint to his style. Another author,
of at least equal celebrity, could only write in dressing gown and
slippers. In order that he might make any progress, it was absolutely
essential that he should be unconscious of his clothes. Most authors
demand quiet and silence as the conditions of useful work. Carlyle padded
his room, in order that he might not be annoyed by the clatter of his
neighbours. On the other hand, Jean Paul Richter, whose influence is
visible throughout nearly the whole of Carlyle's writings, would work
serenely in the kitchen with his mother attending to her domestic duties,
and the children playing around him. In an article contributed by Carlyle
to the _Edinburgh Review_ on Richter, we get some interesting facts about
this truly great man. The following is reproduced from Döring. "Richter's
studying or sitting apartment, offered about this time (1793),[1] a true
and beautiful emblem of his simple and noble way of thought, which
comprehended at once the high and the low. Whilst his mother, who then
lived with him, busily pursued her household work, occupying herself about
stove and dresser, Jean Paul was sitting in a corner of the same room, at
a simple writing-desk, with few or no books about him, but merely with one
or two drawers containing excerpts and manuscripts. The jingle of the
household operations seemed not at all to disturb him, any more than did
the cooing of the pigeons, which fluttered to and fro in the chamber--a
place, indeed, of considerable size." Carlyle, commenting on the preceding
passage, says--"Our venerable Hooker, we remember, also enjoyed 'the
jingle of household operations,' and the more questionable jingle of
shrewd tongues to boot, while he wrote; but the good thrifty mother, and
the cooing pigeons, were wanting. Richter came afterwards to live in fine
mansions, and had the great and learned for associates, but the gentle
feelings of those days abode with him: through life he was the same
substantial, determinate, yet meek and tolerating man. It is seldom that
so much rugged energy can be so blandly attempered, that so much vehemence
and so much softness will go together."

Dr. Johnson's "Dictionary" is one of the most familiar books in the
English language, and the particulars of the way in which it was compiled
are of considerable interest. He agreed with a number of leading London
booksellers to prepare the work for £1,775, and spent seven years over the
task. When he undertook it, he expected to finish it in three years. His
friend, Dr. Adams, called upon him one day, and found him busy with his
book, and, says Boswell, a dialogue as follows ensued. "Adams: 'This is a
great work, sir. How are you to get all the etymologies?' Johnson: 'Why,
here is a shelf with Junius and Skinner, and others; and there is a Welsh
gentleman who has published a collection of Welsh proverbs, who will help
me with the Welsh.' Adams: 'But, sir, how can you do this in three years?'
Johnson: 'Sir, I have no doubt that I can do it in three years.' Adams:
'But the French Academy, which consists of forty members, took forty years
to complete their dictionary.' Johnson: 'Sir, thus it is--this is the
proportion. Let me see: forty times forty is sixteen hundred. As three to
sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an Englishman to a Frenchman.'"
This pleasantry is not reproduced to show Johnson's vanity, but to give a
glimpse of some of the books he used, and his own ideas as to the period
he expected to spend over the undertaking.

Johnson fitted up an upper room like a counting house, in which were
employed six copyists; and in spite of his asserted aversion from
Scotchmen, he engaged no less than five of them on his book, so that his
objection to the sons of Caledonia cannot have been very deeply rooted.

Many of his words were drawn from previously published dictionaries, and
others he supplied himself. He spent much time in reading the best
informed authors, and marked their books with a pencil when he found
suitable material for his work. He would not under any consideration quote
the productions of an author whose writings were calculated to hurt sound
religion and morality. The marked sentences were copied on slips of paper,
which were afterwards posted into an interleaved copy of an old dictionary
opposite the words to which they related.

At the commencement of the work he made a rather serious mistake by
writing on both sides of his paper. He had to pay twenty pounds to have it
transcribed to one side of the paper only.

It has been truthfully observed that Dr. Johnson's "Illustrations of the
meanings and uses of words" is the most valuable part of the work, and
shows an extraordinary knowledge of literature. Some of the definitions
were characteristic of the man. Take for example the following, to be
found in the first edition:--"Excise. A hateful tax levied upon
commodities, adjudged, not by the common judges of property, but wretches
hired by those to whom the excise is paid.--Network. Anything reticulated
or decussated at equal distances, with interstices between the
intersections.--Oats. A grain which in England is generally given to
horses, but which in Scotland supports the people." Sir Walter Scott
related the happy retort by Lord Elibank, who said, when he heard the
definition--"Yes; and where else will you see _such_ horses, and _such_
men."--Patron. Commonly, a wretch, who supports with insolence, and is
paid with flattery.--Pension. In England, it is generally understood to
mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country.

Mr. Andrew Miller, bookseller, of the Strand, took the chief management of
the publication, and appears to have been much disappointed at the slow
progress the compiler made. He frequently pressed Johnson for more "copy,"
and towards the latter part of the work became most anxious, for Johnson
had drawn all his money in drafts long before he had completed the

According to Boswell, "When the messenger who carried the last sheet to
Miller returned, Johnson asked him, 'Well, what did he say?' 'Sir,'
answered the messenger, 'he said, "Thank God I have done with him."' 'I am
glad,' replied Johnson, 'that he thanks God for anything.'"

The Dictionary was published in 1755 in two volumes at £4 4s. 0d., and
soon went through several editions. The expenses of producing the work
left Johnson a small margin of profit. It firmly established his fame.

Having referred at some length to Johnson's "Dictionary," let us pay some
little attention to another important work of reference, the "Encyclopædia
Britannica." The first edition was issued in weekly numbers commenced in
1771, and was completed in 1773. It consisted of three small quarto
volumes. The first editor was William Smellie, a studious man who made his
start in life as a compositor, and left the printing office for an hour or
two daily to attend the classes of the Edinburgh University. At nineteen
he was employed as proof-reader, conductor and compiler of the _Scots'
Magazine_ at a salary of sixteen shillings a week. He devised and wrote
the chief articles in the "Encyclopædia Britannica." The agreement of the
work is a curiosity of literature, and reads as follows:

"Mr. Andrew Bell to Mr. William Smellie.

"Sir,--As we are engaged in publishing a 'Dictionary of the Arts and
Sciences,' and as you have informed us that there are fifteen capital
sciences, which you will undertake for, and write up the sub-divisions and
detached parts of them, conforming to your plan, and likewise to prepare
the whole work for the press, etc., etc. We hereby agree to allow you £200
for your trouble."

A second edition was called for in 1776, and the proprietors offered
Smellie a share in the undertaking if he would edit it; but having other
pressing work on hand, he declined the proposal, and Joseph Tytler, a man
of varied attainments, was engaged. He was born in 1747, and was the son
of a minister of a rural parish in Scotland. After receiving a liberal
education, he was placed with a surgeon at Forfar. He subsequently made a
couple of voyages as a doctor in a whaling-ship to Greenland. Next he
proceeded to Edinburgh with the money he had earned, with a view of
completing his medical education at the University. He had no sooner got
nicely settled in the Northern capital, than he married a girl in humble
circumstances, a step which did not help to advance his worldly interests.
He made many attempts to succeed, but always failed. Keen poverty kept his
nose to the grindstone. His faculty in projecting works was much larger
than his energy in carrying them out. Before he had reached the age of
thirty, he commenced his labours as the editor of the "Encyclopædia
Britannica." The remuneration he received was very small; and while the
work was in progress, he lodged, with his wife and family, with a poor
washerwoman at the village of Duddingston, and for his writing-desk turned
her wash-tub upside down.

The poor fellow never attempted to hide his poverty. It is said by a
gentleman who once waited upon him, that he found him making a repast on a
cold potato, which he continued eating with as much composure as if he
were dining in the most sumptuous style.

The Encyclopædia was a great success, and sold to the extent of ten
thousand copies; the owners of the copyright cleared £42,000. Moreover
two of the owners, one a printer and the other an engraver, were paid for
their respective work; yet in spite of this handsome profit, the result of
Tytler's ability, they permitted him to live with his wife and children in

He could write almost on any topic, and at any time. As a proof of this,
his biographer tells a good anecdote. "A gentleman in Edinburgh," he
states, "once told him he wanted as much matter as would form a junction
between a certain history and its continuance to a later period. He found
Tytler lodged in one of those elevated apartments called garrets, and was
informed by the old woman with whom he resided that he had gone to bed
rather the worse for liquor. Determined, however, not to depart without
fulfilling his errand, he was shown into Mr. Tytler's apartment by the
light of a lamp, where he found him in the situation described by the
landlady. The gentleman having acquainted him with the nature of the
business which brought him at so late an hour, Mr. Tytler called for pen
and ink, and in a short time produced about a page and a half of
letterpress, which answered the end as completely as if it had been the
result of the most mature deliberation, previous notice, and a mind
undisturbed by any liquid capable of deranging its ideas."

Tytler was a poet of some skill, and wrote a number of popular songs,
three of which find a place in "The Celebrated Songs of Scotland." He
enjoyed the friendship of Robert Burns. In 1792 he published a prospectus
of a paper to be named the _Political Gazetteer_; when it came under the
notice of Burns he wrote to him as follows:--"Go on, sir; lay bare with
undaunted heart and steady hand that horrid mass of corruption called
politics and state-craft." At the time he penned this he was an officer in
the Excise, and for this and similar expressions he was rebuked by the
Board of Excise. Burns described Tytler as an "obscene, tippling, but
extraordinary body; a mortal who, though he drudges about Edinburgh with
leaky shoes, a skylighted hat, yet that same drunken mortal is author and
compiler of three-fourths of the 'Encyclopædia Britannica,' which he
composed at half-a-guinea a week."

We must, before dismissing Tytler, give another anecdote, although it does
not relate to literature. We read that "he constructed a huge bag, and
filled it full of gas, and invited the inhabitants of Edinburgh to witness
his flight through the regions of space." Mr. Tytler, it appears, slowly
rose in his bag as high as a garden wall, when something went wrong with
the machinery, and he was deposited head foremost "softly on an adjoining
dunghill." The "gaping crowd nearly killed themselves with laughter." He
was afterwards known as "Balloon Tytler." He wrote a seditious placard,
and had to flee to save his neck. He found a home in America, and for some
time edited a paper at Salem. After a life of toil and trouble, he died in
the year 1803.

Much has been said about the habits and earnings of Sir Walter Scott, and
it is only necessary for us to observe that he wrote in his
neatly-arranged library, where at any moment he could refer to his books.
He was a most methodical man, and never had to waste time hunting up lost
papers and books. He usually commenced writing between five and six, and
worked until ten in the morning, and during this period it was his
practice to fast. When pressed with work, he would often take breakfast at
nine, and lounge about until eleven, and then write with a will until two
o'clock. During the closing years of Sir Walter Scott's life he employed
William Laidlaw as his amanuensis. Laidlaw was a poet and prose writer of
some merit, possessed of superior shrewdness, and highly esteemed by Sir
Walter and his family. He was for many years steward at Abbotsford.

Another famous son of the North was Professor Wilson, perhaps more widely
known as "Christopher North," of _Blackwood's Magazine_. He entered in a
large ledger skeletons of intended articles; when he felt in the humour
for working, he turned to his skeletons, selected one, and quickly clothed
it with flesh and nerve. Wilson in a short time could produce a
considerable quantity of original matter. Mr. J. S. Roberts, the editor of
the volume of "Scottish Ballads" in the Chandos Classics series, was a boy
at Blackwood's when Wilson was the chief contributor to "_Maga_." It was
one of Roberts' duties to go to Christopher North for his "copy." He was
wont to sit and amuse himself whilst the great, lion-headed man wrote or
furnished an article on all manner of scraps of waste paper. One day there
was a high wind, and Roberts was indiscreet enough to put Professor
Wilson's article in his hat. The result was hugely disastrous. The
head-gear was blown off, and Wilson's article was distributed in small
portions over all the streets of Edinburgh. It was a frightful thing to
have to go to the author and explain the catastrophe. John Wilson would
swear, as the boy knew; and for a while he swore most stormily, but
eventually calmed his choler, and wrote the article over again.

Professor Wilson was the author of a severe critique on the earlier poems
of Alfred Tennyson, and in reply to it the poet wrote the following


  "You did late review my lays,
      Crusty Christopher;
  You did mingle blame and praise,
      Rusty Christopher.

  "When I learnt from whom it came,
  I forgave you all the blame,
      Musty Christopher;
  I could _not_ forgive the praise,
      Fusty Christopher.

After penning the foregoing, the Laureate does not appear to have troubled
himself further respecting Professor Wilson.

Let us now look at the method of a famous French author. Like many able
writers, Balzac thought out every detail of a story before he commenced
writing it. The places he proposed describing were visited, and the
special features carefully noted. His note-books were filled with
particulars of all classes of characters, for reproduction in his novels.
No sooner had he made up his mind to write on a certain subject, and
collected materials for his work, than he retired from the haunts of men,
and declined to see even his closest friends. Letters might come, but they
were not opened; he was dead to the outer world. His blinds were drawn,
the sunlight shut out, and candles lighted. His ordinary costume was
changed for a loose white monkish gown. The round of his daily toil was as
follows:--At two in the morning he commenced writing, and continued it
until six; a bath was then indulged in; at eight he took coffee, and
rested until the clock marked the hour of nine. He resumed writing until
noon, when an hour was occupied over breakfast. He again laboured with his
pen from one to six, when his work closed for the day. He dined and
conferred with his publisher, and at eight o'clock he retired to rest.
This daily round often occupied two months, in which period he furnished
the first rough draft of his work. The matter was usually re-written, and
even when in type he would frequently alter three or four proofs. We are
not surprised to learn "that he was the terror of the printers; few could
decipher his 'copy,' and it is said that those few made a stipulation with
their employer to work on it for one hour at a time."

He was a most painstaking writer, but was never satisfied with his
productions. "I took," he said, "sixteen hours out of twenty-four over the
elaboration of my unfortunate style, and I am never satisfied with it when

Carlyle's productions gave the printers much trouble, on account of the
many alterations he made, and his cramped penmanship. His changes were not
confined to his manuscripts; he revised his proofs to such an extent that
it was frequently found easier to reset the matter than to alter it. Miss
Martineau told a good story anent this subject. "One day," she said,
"while in my study, I heard a prodigious sound of laughter on the stairs,
and in came Carlyle, laughing aloud. He had been laughing in that manner
all the way from the printing office in Charing Cross. As soon as he
could, he told me what it was about. He had been to the office to urge the
printer, and the man said: 'Why, sir, you really are so very hard upon us
with your corrections; they take so much time, you see.' After some
remonstrance, Carlyle observed that he had been accustomed to do this sort
of thing; that he had got works printed in Scotland, and--'Yes, indeed,
sir,' interrupted the printer, 'we are aware of that. We have a man here
from Edinburgh, and when he took up a bit of your copy he dropped it as if
it had burnt his fingers, and cried out, 'Lord have mercy! Have you got
that man to print for? Lord knows when we shall get done all his

Mrs. Gore was the author of many fashionable novels and other works, which
won much favourable notice in her day. She did not confine all her
attention to story-writing; she contributed very largely to the leading
magazines, and wrote successfully for the stage. The list of her works is
a long one, yet, in spite of all her tireless toil with the pen, she
entered very freely into the pleasures of society. Mr. Planché visited her
in Paris in 1837, and in course of a conversation she explained how she
managed to find time to write so much. Said Mrs. Gore: "I receive, as you
know, a few friends at dinner at five o'clock nearly every evening. They
leave me at ten or eleven, when I retire to my own room, and write till
seven or eight in the morning. I then go to bed till noon, when I
breakfast, after which I drive out, shop, pay visits, and return at four,
dress for dinner, and as soon as my friends have departed, go to work
again all night as before." Mrs. Gore died in 1861, at the age of
sixty-two years. Her first book was issued in 1823, and it was followed by
no less than seventy separate works. She lived for many years on the
Continent, and supported her family with her pen.

Mrs. Trollope did not commence her career as an author until she had
"reached the sober season of married and middle life," yet she managed to
produce no less than one hundred and fifteen volumes of fiction. In an
autobiographical work, entitled "What I Remember," by her son, Thomas
Adolphus Trollope, we get some touching pictures of this wonderful woman
writing her books. He speaks of her passing an extended period by the
bedside of her invalid son. From about nine in the morning until eight in
the evening, with "a cheerful countenance and a bleeding heart," she
entertained and nursed her patient. He generally slept about eight, when
she went to her desk and wrote her fiction to amuse light-hearted readers.
She worked from two to three in the morning. This was all done with the
aid of green tea and sometimes laudanum. Mrs. Trollope died at the age of
eighty-three years, so that it cannot be said that hard work killed her,
although she did an immense quantity.

We believe that hard work seldom kills anyone. Some say that it does, and
point to the fate of Southey, one of the most industrious of English men
of letters, to support their assertion. The mention of his name brings to
the mind scenes of sunshine and shadow. He was a lover of books, and his
charming house in Lake-land contained a fine library. Here he read and
worked, and life passed happily. Nothing could tempt him to leave it, not
even the editorship of _The Times_. When bereft of reason, Southey would
linger lovingly amongst the companions of happier days, his beloved books.
He would play with them as a child plays with a toy. It is generally
believed that hard literary labour killed him. When Dr. Charles Mackay
visited Wordsworth he named the matter to him, and was told that there was
no truth in it. Said Wordsworth of Southey: "He was a calm and methodical
worker, and calm, steady work never kills. It is only worry and hurry that
kill. Southey wrote a great deal; but he wrote easily and pleasantly to
himself. Besides, only those who have tried know what an immense deal of
literary work can be got through comfortably by a man who will work
regularly for only four or even three hours a day. Take the case of Sir
Walter Scott, for instance. What an immensity of work he got through; and
yet he was always idle at one o'clock in the afternoon, and ready for any
amusement, or for such change of labour as the garden or the field
afforded. Southey was like him in that respect, and, though he worked
hard, he always contrived to enjoy abundance of leisure. Scott died of
pecuniary trouble, not of work. Southey died of grief for the loss of his

Lord Byron puzzled his friends by continual production whilst appearing to
occupy himself with everything else but writing.

Hans Christian Andersen had to be alone when he composed his fairy tales.
He was never able to dictate a contribution for the press. All his matter
for the printer was in his own handwriting. This circumstance he named to
Thiers, by whom he was informed that he dictated to an amanuensis the
whole of his "History of the Consulate and the Empire."

Miss Edgeworth wrote her stories in the common sitting-room, surrounded by
her family. Some authors are able to concentrate their attention on a task
and remain unconscious of anything going on around them. Says a recent
writer on this topic: "Dr. Somerville told Harriet Martineau that he once
laid a wager with a friend that he would abuse Mrs. Somerville in a loud
voice to her face, and she would take no notice; and he did so. Sitting
close to her, he confided to his friend the most injurious things--that
she rouged, that she wore a wig, and such nonsense uttered in a very loud
voice; her daughters were in a roar of laughter, while the slandered lady
sat placidly writing. At last her husband made a dead pause after her
name, on which she looked up in an innocent manner saying, "Did you speak
to me?"

Southey too could write in the presence of his family. A more remarkable
method of composition was that of Barry Cornwall. He composed his best
poems in the busy streets of London, only leaving the crowd to enter a
shop to commit to paper the verses he had made.

The poet Gray usually worked himself into the "mood" by reading some
other poet, generally Spenser.

Shelley always composed out of doors sometimes on the roof tops. Trelawney
describes how he found him in a grove near Florence by a pool of water; he
was gazing unconsciously into the depths. Trelawney did not disturb him,
but when Shelley came out of his trance he had written one of his finest
lyrics, in a hand-writing that no other man could decipher.

Wordsworth mainly composed his poems during his rural rambles. It was not
an unusual circumstance for him to write with a slate pencil on a smooth
piece of stone his newly made lines. Surely the hillsides and lovely dales
of Lake-land were fitting places for the great high priest of nature to
give birth to his poetry. He repeated his poems aloud as he composed them,
a practice which greatly puzzled the common people. We cannot perhaps
better illustrate the strange impression it made on the country folk than
by repeating an anecdote told to Dr. Charles Mackay by an American
gentleman. He said--"One of his countrymen had lost his way in a vain
attempt to discover Rydal Mount; had taken a wrong turn and gone three or
four miles beyond or to the side of the point he should have aimed at.
Meeting an old woman in a scarlet cloak, who was gathering sticks, he
asked her the way to Rydal Mount. She could not tell him; she did not
know. 'Not know,' said the American, 'the house of the great Wordsworth?'
'No.' 'What, not the house of the man whose fame brings people here from
all parts of the world?' 'No,' she insisted, 'but what was he great
in?--was he a preacher or a doctor?' 'Greater than preacher or doctor--he
was a poet.' 'Oh, poet!' she replied; 'and why did you not tell me that
before? I know who you mean now. I often meet him in the woods, jabbering
his pottery (poetry) to himself. But I'm not afraid of him. He's quite
harmless, and almost as sensible as you or me.'" This is the old story--a
man, however great, is not much thought of in his own district.

It is generally understood that Lord Tennyson composed much of his poetry
during his rural rambles.

Edwin Arnold, the editor of the _Daily Telegraph_, wrote his "Light of
Asia" whilst travelling in the railway carriage to and from his newspaper

Some authors appear to be able to write at any time and in any place.
Anthony Trollope did much writing in a railway train. "It was," he says,
"while I was engaged on 'Barchester Towers' that I adopted a system of
writing, which for some years afterwards I found to be very serviceable to
me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, and the nature of my
travelling was now changed. I could not any longer do it by horseback.
Railroads afforded me my means of conveyance, and I found that I passed in
railway carriages very many hours of my existence.... If I intended to
make a profitable business of writing, and, at the same time, to do my
best for the Post Office, I must turn my hours to more account than I
could by reading. I made for myself, therefore, a little tablet, and I
found after a few days' exercise that I could write as quickly in a
railway carriage as I could at my own desk. I worked with a pencil, and
what I wrote my wife copied afterwards. My only objection to the practice
came from the appearance of literary ostentation, to which I felt myself
to be subject when going to work before four or five fellow passengers.
But I got used to it."

Trollope never attached any importance to a writing mood; to use his own
phrase, he sat down to work just "as a cobbler sits down to make shoes."
When at home he rose at from half-past four to five o'clock daily, and,
attired in his dressing-gown, he went to his writing-room. During the cold
weather his old and favourite Irish servant made a fire in it before he
arrived. He placed his watch before him, and he trained himself to write
two hundred and fifty words every fifteen minutes, and he says that he was
able to perform the feat as regularly as his watch went.

He believed that a serial was spoilt if written month by month as
published. Only once during his long career did he commence publishing a
story before the manuscript was completed, and that was "Framley
Parsonage," in the pages of _Cornhill Magazine_. It is admitted to be one
of his best books. He wielded the pen of a ready writer for nearly forty
years, and in this period produced an enormous quantity of work. He stands
in this respect almost on a level with Sir Walter Scott. No writer of the
highest genius writes like Trollope, though it was Keats' habit to write a
certain number of lines a day when he was engaged on "Endymion." Emerson
remarks "a poet must wait many days in order to glorify one."

The late Bishop Wilberforce managed to write in his chaise even when
driven over rough roads, as well as in railway carriages. His lordship
appeared to be able to use his pen in most unlikely quarters.

Amongst authors noted as early risers must be included Charles Dickens. He
has told us how the solemn and still solitude of the morning had a charm
for him. It was seldom that he wrote before breakfast; as a rule he
confined his writing between the hours of breakfast and luncheon. Dickens
was by no means a rapid writer. When engaged on a novel he regarded three
of his not very large pages of manuscript as a good day's work, and four
as excellent. He did not recopy his writings, although they contained
numerous corrections which, however, were clearly made. Prior to
commencing a new story he suffered much from despondency. He spoke of
himself as "going round and round the idea, as you see a bird in his cage
go about his sugar before he touches it."

Dickens' love of order was very marked; his writing materials were always
neatly arranged, and his household was a model of order.

The highways and byways of London were familiar to him, and many happy
hours were spent rambling in them. He had a theory that the number of
hours engaged in literary labour should have a corresponding time spent in
pedestrian exercise, and he frequently enjoyed a twenty miles' walk.

Thackeray was not very particular as to the place or time when he wrote.
He liked to perform his literary labours in a pleasant room. It is
certain, from the large number of books that he produced in a limited
time, that he must have written at a considerable speed. He had also the
happy facility of being able to dictate his works when composing them.

Previous to commencing a book George Eliot would read all she could find
bearing on the subject. Sometimes she would study over a thousand works to
write one book. She spared no pains in perfecting her productions.

Charles Reade wrote much and well. He rose at eight o'clock, took
breakfast at nine, and at ten commenced his literary work, which usually
lasted until two in the afternoon. He wrote in his drawing-room, and when
the French windows were closed no sounds from the street could be heard.
When once fairly on the way with a novel he worked with rapidity. He
wrote with a large pen, with very black ink, on large sheets of
drab-coloured paper. Each sheet was numbered as written, and thrown on the
floor, which, after a few hours' writing, was completely covered. A maid
servant gathered up the manuscript, which, after being put in order, was
sent to a copyist, who made, in a round hand, a clear copy. Mr. Reade then
went carefully over it, making improvements by omissions and additions.
The revised sheets were once more copied for the printer. He seldom
dictated a story, but had not any objection to the company of a friend in
his room when busy with his pen. He would sometimes relieve the monotony
of his work by watching a game of tennis on his lawn, or the gambols of
his tame hares, or the traffic passing in the street at the bottom of his
garden. Mr. Reade did not take any lunch; he dined late, and generally
finished the day by a visit to the theatre.

Alphonse Daudet, the greatest of living French novelists, is a painstaking
man, and usually spends a year in writing a story. He takes a deep
interest in his work; indeed, it seems to get the mastery over him; and
when engaged on "Le Nabob" he worked about twenty hours a day. He related
to an interviewer his method of work, and it transpired that he carries
about with him a small book, and enters in it notes bearing on his
subject. Next he reproduces his jottings and expands them, and as he
completes the items he severs them out of his list. His wife then takes
the manuscript in hand and makes a clear copy, and, at the same time,
corrects any slight errors of redundancy. Daudet goes carefully over it,
making additions and polishing according to his fancy. It is afterwards
rewritten for the press.

Shortly after the death of Mrs. Henry Wood, her son, Mr. Charles W. Wood,
published in the _Argosy_ some very interesting particulars of her
literary life. She was a born author, and at the age when children play
with dolls she was composing stories. She was a ready writer. Her powerful
prize temperance tale "Danesbury House" was commenced and completed in
twenty-eight days.

Respecting her manner of writing her novels, says her son: "She first
composed her plot. Having decided upon the main idea, she would next
divide it into the requisite number of chapters. Each chapter was then
elaborated. Every incident in every chapter was thought out and recorded,
from the first chapter to the last. She never changed her plots or
incidents. Once thought out, her purpose became fixed, and was never
turned aside for any fresh departure or emergency that might arise in the
development of the story. The drama had then become to her as if it
actually existed. Every minute detail of the plot was written out before a
line of the story was begun. All was so elaborately sketched that anyone
with sufficient power would have no difficulty in writing the story with
the plot in possession. The only difference would have been the evidence
of another hand.

"The plot of each novel occupied a good many pages of close, though not
small writing. It would take her, generally speaking, about three weeks to
think it out from beginning to end. During those times she could not bear
the slightest interruption. But I have occasionally gone into her study,
though never without being startled, almost awed, by the look upon her
face. She would be at all times in a reclining chair, her paper upon her
knees, and the expression of her eyes, large, wide-opened, was so intense
and absorbed, so far away, it seemed as if the spirit had wandered into
some distant realm and had to be brought back to its tenement before the
matter, suddenly placed before her, could be attended to. It, indeed, took
many moments to recall her attention, elsewhere concentrated." Mr. Wood
observes, "Only on rare or important occasions was such intrusion ever
permitted for the thread of her ideas once broken could very seldom be
resumed the same day, and, as she never wrote a line of anything when
composing a plot, she would consider that the day had been partly lost or

When Mrs. Wood was writing a story, on entering her study she consulted
the outline she had prepared, and then worked on the allotted portion of
her task. She did not recopy her manuscripts, yet they contained few
corrections, and were very legible and as clear as print.

Miss Braddon is the author of many widely-read novels, and it is said that
the profits on her works place her high amongst the first six of the best
paid writers of fiction. She left the Hull stage, where she performed
without any particular success under the name of Miss Seton, and took up
her residence at Beverley, where she wrote her first story, "Three times
dead; or the Secret of the Heath." It was printed and published by Mr. C.
R. Empson, and was brought out at a loss. At that time she was about
twenty years of age. In 1861 she issued "Garibaldi, and other Poems," the
contents of this book having previously appeared in a Beverley newspaper.
A year prior to that date she competed for a £5 prize, offered by Mr.
Joseph Temple, for the best ode on celebrating the first tree planted in
the Hull Public Park, and failed to win it. She contributed to several
local newspapers. Her powerful novel, "Lady Audley's Secret," published in
1862, established her reputation, and by industry and skill it has been
sustained. At the commencement of 1887 the sale of "Lady Audley's Secret"
had reached about 450,000 copies, Mrs. Henry Wood's "East Lynne" 120,000
copies, and Mrs. Craik's "John Halifax Gentleman," 90,000 copies. Miss
Braddon says "The Woman in White" inspired her to write "Lady Audley's
Secret," "a novel of construction and character." Wilkie Collins she
regards as her literary godfather. Miss Braddon had not a single note when
she wrote her most popular story. She now makes a skeleton of her tales in
a small memorandum book, often not extending over a couple of pages,
before she commences writing her novels. She usually writes four days a
week, commencing her work at ten and concluding it at seven, and takes
during that time strong tea at intervals, and occasionally a light
luncheon. The other two days are devoted to riding on horseback and when
possible to hunting. Respecting Miss Braddon's method of writing, some
interesting details appear in the "Treasury of Modern Biography," and
perhaps we cannot do better than draw upon it for a few facts. "By the
fireside," it is stated, "is a particularly low uncomfortable chair. In
this the novelist huddles herself up with a piece of thick cardboard
resting on her lap, and a little ink-bottle held firmly against it with
her left hand. This apparently cramped position appears to be favourable
to the composition, for the pen moves over the great square slips of
paper, and the corrections are few and far between." Her copy is very
clear and carefully punctuated, and is somewhat masculine in style. At one
time she wrote a bold hand, but reduced its size, because she had to cover
more paper with her pen than when she wrote a small hand. She wears a
tailor's thimble to protect the middle finger from the brand of the ink.

Mr. James Payn was for many years a busy and successful literary man. He
conducted the _Cornhill Magazine_, having previously edited for many years
_Chambers's Journal_. It was in the latter periodical that his first
story, "A Family Scapegrace," appeared. A few years later it was followed
by "Lost Sir Massingberd," which raised the circulation of the serial by
nearly 20,000 copies. Mr. Payn related some time since to Mr. Joseph
Hatton, the journalist, an outline of his daily life which is as follows:
"I rise at eight," said Mr. Payn, "breakfast, read the papers, get to the
office at ten, work at my own work until one--subject to any special call
on Smith and Elder's business--lunch at the Reform Club at one--generally
with Robinson, of the _Daily News_, and occasionally with William
Black--return to the office at two; from two until four I read manuscripts
and edit _Cornhill_; from 4.0 to 6.30 I play whist at the Reform Club--it
is a great rest, whist--home to dinner by seven--I rarely dine out now,
and never go to what are called dinner parties--to bed at ten."

It remains for us to add that his writing is very difficult to decipher,
indeed he is sometimes puzzled to read it himself; fortunately for the
printers, his daughter makes a copy of his productions by the type-writer.

In answer to a correspondent, Mr. Philip G. Hamerton detailed particulars
of his method of work. Said Mr. Hamerton in his interesting letter, "I
think that there are two main qualities to be kept in view in literary
composition--freshness and finish. The best way, in my opinion, of
attaining both is to aim at freshness in the rough draft, with little
regard to perfection of expression; the finish can be given by copious
subsequent correction, even to the extent of writing all over again when
there is time. Whenever possible, I would assimilate literary to pictorial
execution by treating the rough draft as a rapid and vigorous sketch,
without any regard to delicacy of workmanship; then I would write from
this a second work, retaining as much as possible the freshness of the
first, but correcting those oversights and errors which are due to

One of his books, he says, was penned as a private diary, then he made a
rough and rapid manuscript with a lead pencil, and subsequently rewrote
it for the printer, especially with a view to concentration. Mr. Hamerton
states that he used shorthand for one volume, which enabled him to write
it quickly, but he found much trouble in reading it, and he does not
recommend it for literary purposes.

Referring to work, "The Intellectual Life" was begun in quite a different
form (not in letters), and many pages were written before he concluded
that it was heavy, and that letters would give a lighter and less didactic
appearance. We are told that his story "Marmone" was partly written and
put aside, and it was not until solicited by Messrs. Roberts Brothers for
a book for their "No Name Series," that he completed it. The earlier part
of the novel was written three times over.

In concluding his letter, he says that "I have sometimes, instead of
rewriting, sent a corrected rough draft to a type-writer. There is an
economy of time in this, and the work can be corrected in the
type-writer's copy; but, on the whole, for very careful finished work, I
think the old plan of rewriting the whole manuscript is superior."

Mr. G. A. Sala used commonly to be regarded as a journalist, but he ranks
high as an author. He has written nearly a library of books of travel,
essays, and novels, which have been much praised by the critics, and
largely circulated. His father was an Italian gentleman, who married a
charming and accomplished English lady, famous in her day as a vocalist.
Between the ages of six and nine he was totally blind. After regaining his
sight he was placed in the Collège Bourbon, Paris, for a couple of years,
and subsequently removed to Turnham Green, near London, with a view of
thoroughly acquiring his mother tongue which he spoke imperfectly, in fact
he was almost ignorant of it. His parents intended him for an artist, but
circumstances compelled him to relinquish art in its highest form.
Possessing the happy faculty of effective sketching, he produced hundreds
of political caricatures and pictorial skits on passing events; these
found a ready sale. His eyesight failing, he had to give up lithographing
and engraving, and to try other means of making a living. After a variety
of engagements, an accident led to his finding his right vocation. One
night he was by an oversight locked out of his house, and had to pass the
night perambulating the streets. It occurred to him that he might make it
a subject of an article, which he accordingly wrote under the title of
"The Key of the Street," and submitted it to Charles Dickens. The famous
novelist at once recognised his genius, and encouraged him to become a
constant contributor to _Household Words_. At the suggestion of Dickens he
entered the lists of journalism, and won the highest place amongst
pressmen. He was known as "The Prince of Journalists." Sala joined the
staff of the _Daily Telegraph_, and did much to make the reputation of
that brilliant journal. He represented it in all parts of the world, and
his remuneration equalled the pay of an ambassador. Its columns have been
enriched with several thousand leading articles from his facile pen on
almost every topic.

Sala was the owner of a large and valuable library, but his chief source
of information was found in his common-place book. In it he had brought
together facts and illustrations on all kinds of subjects calculated to
aid him in his journalistic labours. This wonderful book has often been
described, the best account of it appears in "Living London." "Scarcely a
week passes," says Mr. Sala, "without bringing me letters from
correspondents who ask me to explain my own system of keeping a
common-place book. I have but one such system, and it possesses one
merit, that of rugged simplicity. Take a book, large or small, according
to the size of your handwriting, and take care that at the end of the book
there shall be plenty of space for an index. Begin at the beginning, and
make your entries precisely as they occur to you in unordered sequence.
But after each entry place a little circle, or oval, or parenthesis ( ),
and in a portion of these spaces place consecutive numbers. Here is a
model page taken at random from a book which may have been in keeping for

    'The Prince of Wales wore the robes of the Garter at his marriage in
    St. George's Chapel, Windsor. All the other K.Gs present wore their
    robes and collars. Mr. W. P. Frith, R.A., who was to paint a picture
    of the wedding for the Queen, stood close to the reredos, to the
    right, looking from the organ-loft (1023). Just before the liberation
    in 1859 of Lombardy from the domination of Austria, the audiences in
    the Italian theatres used to give vent to their pent-up patriotism by
    shouting at the close of each performance "Viva Verdi!" The initiated
    knew that this was meant to signify Viva V (for Victor) E (for
    Emmanuele) R (for Re) D I (for d'Italia) (1024). Old Hungerford Market
    was never very successful as a fish market; but according to Seyer it
    was always very well supplied with shrimps. In Hungerford Street,
    leading to the market, there was a pastrycook's famous shop, at which
    the penny buns were as good as those sold at Farrance's in Cockspur
    Street (1025).'

"Now, all you have to do is, immediately you have made your entry, to
index it; and if you will only spare the time and patience and
perseverance, to _cross index_ it. Thus under letter W you will write,
'Wales, Prince of, married in Robes of the Garter' (1023); under G,
'Garter, Robes of, worn by P. of W. at his Marriage' (1023); under F, 'W.
P. Frith, R.A., present at the Marriage of P. of W.' (1023). Thus also,
'Verdi, Victor Emmanuel,' and 'Italy' will be indexed under their
respective letters 'V' and 'I,' and be referable to at the number (1024).
I have one common-place book that has been 'cooking' ever since 1858, and
is not half finished yet. The last entry is numbered (5068), and refers to
Sir Thomas Roe, Ambassador from James the First of England to the Emperor
Jehan Guize, commonly called the Great Mogul. The number (5068) is
referred to under the letters R (for Roe), J (for James I.), J (for Jehan
Guize), M (for Mogul), and A (for Ambassadors). By means of a rigidly
pursued system of indexing and _cross indexing_ (so earnestly recommended
by Henry Brougham) you can put your hand at once on the information
bearing on the particular subject which claims your attention."

Mr. Sala also said:--"I believe this system strengthens and disciplines
the memory, and keeps it green. It is a very good mental exercise to read
a page or two of the index alone, from time to time. You will be
astonished at the number of bright nuggets of fact which will crop up from
the rock of half forgetfulness. Finally, never allow your index to fall
into arrear, and write the figures in your circumscribed spaces in red
ink. The corresponding ones in the index may be in black."

It was from this mine of literary nuggets that he used to obtain the
materials for his charming papers which amused and instructed the reader.

Another celebrated modern journalist and author is Mr. Andrew Lang. He is
just the contrary of Mr. Sala in his methods of work. Mr. Lang seems to
pride himself on the fact that he has no other aid to writing except an
excellent memory. He does not trouble himself about books of reference,
and says he has not one of any sort, not even a classical dictionary, in
his house. Mr. Lang is certainly a clever writer, and manages to produce
much pleasant reading, but his contributions to the magazines and
newspapers lack the interesting facts which Mr. Sala placed so pleasantly
before the public in his racy and able articles. Mr. Lang devotes his
mornings to writing books and magazine articles, and the afternoons to
penning leaders for the newspapers.

The Earnings of Authors.

Little is known of the remuneration of authors until the days of Dr.
Samuel Johnson. Before his time, literary men, as a rule, depended on the
generosity of patrons for their means of support, and as an acknowledgment
of their obligations, dedicated their works to them. The dedications were
frequently made in most fulsome terms. The position of the writer was
certainly a mean one; indeed, it might fitly be pronounced degrading; when
he had exhausted his possibilities of patronage, he starved. It was
Johnson--a giant in the world of letters--who broke through the
objectionable custom, and taught the author to look to the reading public
for support, and not to a wealthy patron. It is not until the days of
Samuel Johnson that the subject of literary earnings is of much
importance; yet we may with advantage glance at a few payments made prior
to his age.

We do not know the amount Shakespeare received for his plays, but it is
certain that his connection with the theatre in London in a few years
realised for him a fortune, and, at a comparatively early age, enabled him
to return to his own town, a man of independent means. Oldys, in one of
his manuscripts, says that "Hamlet" was sold for £5; but he does not
mention his authority for the statement. It appears, from a publication of
Robert Greene's, in 1592, the price of a drama was twenty nobles, or about
£6 13s. 4d. of current coin.

Small must have been the literary pay of Spenser, Butler, and Otway, since
they feared to die for want of the simple necessaries of life. Milton sold
"Paradise Lost" for £5 down, to be followed by £15 if a second and third
large editions were required. The first edition consisted of 1,500 copies,
and in two years 1,300 were sold. The balance was not disposed of until
five years later. This powerful poem, when given to the world, met with
some adverse criticism. The poet Waller wrote of it thus: "The old, blind
schoolmaster, John Milton, hath published a tedious poem on the fall of
man; if its length be not considered a merit, it hath no other." A greater
poet than Waller--Dryden--recognised its merits, and said: "Undoubtedly,
'Paradise Lost' is one of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime
poems which either this age or nation has produced." Dryden wrote the
following epigram referring to Homer, Virgil, and Milton:--

  "Three poets--in three distant ages born--
  Greece, Italy, and England did adorn;
  The first in loftiness of thought surpassed,
  The next in majesty, in both the last.
  The force of Nature could no further go;
  To make a third, she joined the former two."

Milton's poem has been praised by the greatest critics, and it is still
very much read. It appears in many forms, and the annual sale is extremely
large. Routledge's popular edition sells at the rate of about a couple of
thousand a year; and we suppose the sale of other editions is equally

Dryden arranged with Jacob Tonson, the famous bookseller and publisher, to
write for him 10,000 verses, at sixpence per line. To make up the required
number of lines, he threw in the "Epistle to his Cousin," and his
celebrated "Ode to Music."

Gray only received £40 for the whole of his poems. He presented the
copyright of his famous "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" to
Dodsley, feeling that it was beneath the dignity of a gentleman to make
money with his pen. The lucky publisher quite agreed with him, and
cleared about a thousand pounds by the publication.

Pope's translation of "Homer" yielded him about £8,000. He was assisted in
the work by William Broome, a scholar who was the author of a volume of
verse. John Henley thus refers to the circumstance:--

  "Pope came off clean with Homer; but they say,
  Broome went before, and kindly swept the way."

Gay made £1,000 by his "Poems." He was paid £400 for the "Beggar's Opera,"
and for the second part, "Polly," £1,000. Rich, the theatrical manager,
profited to a far greater extent from the "Beggar's Opera" than its
author. The contemporary jest was that it made Gay rich, and Rich gay.

Dr. Johnson sold the copyright of Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield" for
£60, and he thought that amount fairly represented the value of the work.
"The great lexicographer," as Miss Pinkerton called him, placed no high
value on the performance of his friend, but the publisher found in the
"Vicar of Wakefield" a gold mine. Goldsmith was paid £21 for "The
Traveller." It was the work that established his reputation. Before it
appeared he was regarded as little better than a superior Grub Street
hack. Johnson pronounced this the finest poem that had been written since
the death of Pope. After having read it to the sister of Sir Joshua
Reynolds, she said: "Well, I never more shall think Dr. Goldsmith ugly."
The following are the prices Goldsmith obtained for others of his
works:--"English Grammar," £5; the "History of Rome," in two volumes, 250
guineas; the "History of England," in four volumes, £500; the "History of
Greece," £250; and the "History of the Earth and Animated Nature," in
eight volumes, £850. "She stoops to Conquer" yielded between £400 and
£500. Five shillings a couplet was paid for "The Deserted Village."

To cover the cost of his mother's funeral, Johnson wrote "Rasselas," and
disposed of it for £100. He sold his "Lives of the Poets" for 200 guineas.
The sum was considered liberal, but Johnson became so engrossed in his
subject that he supplied much more than what was expected from him. It is
believed that out of his work, in twenty-five years, the booksellers
cleared £5,000. It is still a saleable book, and is to be found in every
public and private library of any pretentions.

The sum of £700 was paid to Fielding for "Tom Jones," and for "Amelia,"

Very large amounts have been given for biographical works. Hayley received
for his "Life of Cowper," £11,000; and Southey, £1,000 for his life of the
same poet. The life of "William Wilberforce" was sold for £4,000; "Bishop
Heber's Journals," for £5,000; "General Gordon's Diary," for £5,250; and
the "Life of Hannah More," for £2,000.

The income of Scott was, perhaps, the largest ever made by authorship, yet
he said that the pursuit of literature was a good walking-stick, but a bad
crutch! His reputation was first made as a poet, and the following are
particulars of his profits from poetry: "The Lay of the Last Minstrel,"
published in 1805, £769 6s.; "Ballads and Lyrical Pieces," published in
1806, £100; for "Marmion," published 1808, Messrs. Constable offered 1,000
guineas soon after the poem was begun. It proved a very profitable
speculation to its publishers. During the first month after its
appearance, 2,000 copies were sold, the price being 31s. 6d. the quarto
volume. Next came the "Lady of the Lake" (1810), £2,100. This found even
greater favour with the public than its predecessors, and with it Scott's
poetical fame reached its zenith. A new poet who appeared on the scene,
Byron, completely eclipsed Scott. Scott tried, with two more poems, to win
back his lost place, as the popular poet of the period, and produced
"Rokeby," and the "Bridal of Triermain;" the latter was issued
anonymously, but both were failures. When Scott saw that his poetry did
not attract many readers, he turned his thoughts and energy into another
channel, and commenced his immortal novels. He had by him an unfinished
story, the work of former years, which he completed, giving it to the
world under the title of "Waverley." Constable offered £700 for the
copyright--an amount deemed very large in those days for a novel to be
published without the name of the author. Seven hundred sovereigns did
not, however, satisfy Scott; he simply said, "It is too much if the work
should prove a failure, and too little if it should be a success." It was
a brilliant book, and entranced the reading world. Scott had now found his
real vocation. He received for eleven novels, of three volumes each, and
nine volumes of "Tales of My Landlord," the sum of £110,000. For one
novel he was paid £10,000. Between November, 1825, and June, 1827, he
earned £26,000--an amount representing £52 6s. 3d. per working day. From
first to last, Sir Walter Scott made by his literary labours about

Lord Byron's dealings with Mr. Murray were in every respect satisfactory,
but this did not prevent the pleasure-loving lord from having a little
joke at the expense of his publisher. He delighted Mr. Murray with a gift
of a Bible, but the recipient's pleasure was fleeting, for on examining
the book it was discovered that it contained a marginal correction. "Now
Barabbas was a robber," was altered to "Now Barabbas was a publisher."
This was a cruel stab, seeing that Byron had received for his poetry
£19,340, and might have increased this sum if he had been more anxious
about remuneration.

In Mrs. Oliphant's book on "William Blackwood and His Sons," a letter is
quoted from Mr. Murray relating to the poet. "Lord Byron is a curious
man," says Murray, "he gave me, as I told you, the copyright of his two
poems, to be printed only in his works. I did not receive the last until
Tuesday night. I was so delighted with it that even as I read it I sent
him a draught for a thousand guineas. The two poems are altogether no more
than twelve hundred and fifteen hundred lines, and will altogether sell
for five and sixpence. But he returned the draught, saying that it was
very liberal--much more than they were worth; that I was perfectly welcome
to both poems to print in his (collected) works without cost or
expectation, but that he did not think them equal to what they ought to
be, and that he would not admit of their separate publication. I went
yesterday, and he was rallying me upon my folly in offering so much that
he dared to say I thought now I had a most lucky escape. 'To prove how
much I think so, my lord,' said I 'do me the favour to accept this pocket
book'--In which I had brought with me my draught, changed into two bank
notes of £1,000 and £50; but he would not take it. But I am not in despair
that he will yet allow their separate publication, which I must continue
to urge for mine own honour."

Mr. Murray treated Crabbe in a most liberal manner. He paid for the "Tales
of the Hall," and the copyright of his other poems, £3,000. It was given
to the poet in bills, and we read that "Moore and Rogers earnestly advised
him to deposit them, without delay, in some safe hands--but no; he must
take them with him to Trowbridge, and show them to his son John. They
would hardly believe his good luck at home, if they did not see the
bills." On his way to Trowbridge, a friend at Salisbury, at whose house he
rested (Mr. Everett, the banker), seeing that he carried his bills loosely
in his waistcoat pocket, requested to be allowed to take charge of them;
but Crabbe thankfully declined, saying that "There was no fear of his
losing them, and he must show them to his son John."

Without seeing a line of Thomas Moore's "Lalla Rookh," Messrs. Longman
undertook to pay £3,000 for it. The terms drawn up were simple, and read
as follows: "That upon your giving into our hands a poem of yours, the
length of 'Rokeby,' you shall receive from us the sum of £3,000. We also
agree to the stipulation, that the few songs which you may introduce into
the work shall be considered as reserved for your own selling."

His poem, of some 6,000 lines, was written in a lonely cottage in
Derbyshire. Moore never tired of telling his friends that the stormy
winter weather in the country helped him to imagine, by contrast, the
bright and everlasting summers and glowing scenery of the East.

The work was a great success. The first edition was sold in almost
fourteen days; within six months six editions had been called for. It is
said that some parts of the poem were translated into Persian, a
circumstance which caused Mr. Luttrell to write to the author in the
following strain:--

  "I'm told dear Moore, your lays are sung
    (Can it be true, you lucky man?)
  By moonlight, in the Persian tongue,
    Along the streets of Ispahan."

Moore received considerable amounts for his "Irish Melodies." The mention
of these call to mind a letter he penned to Mr. Power, his publisher, on
November 12, 1812:--

"My dear Sir,--I have just got your letter, and have only time to say,
that if you can let me have three or four pounds by return of post, you
will oblige me. I would not have made this importunate demand on you, but
I have foolishly let myself run dry without trying my other resources, and
I have been the week past literally without one sixpence. Ever, with most
sincere good will.--T.M."

Mr. Power promptly posted ten pounds to the poet. Said Moore, in the
course of his reply, "The truth is, we have been kept on a visit at a
house where we have been much longer than I wished or intended, and simply
from not having a shilling in my pocket to give to the servants on going
away. So I know you will forgive my teasing you.... You may laugh at my
ridiculous distress in being kept to turtle eating and claret-drinking
longer than I wish, and merely because I have not a shilling in my
pocket,--but, however paradoxical it sounds, it is true."

We read in Moore's journals, ten years later: "17th August,
1822.--Received to-day a letter from Brougham, enclosing one from Barnes
(the editor of _The Times_), proposing that, as he is ill, I shall take
his place for some time in writing the leading articles of that paper, the
pay to be £100 a month. This is flattering. To be thought capable of
wielding so powerful a political machine as _The Times_ newspaper is a
tribute the more flattering (as is usually the case) from my feeling
conscious that I do not deserve it." The next day he wrote and declined
the offer.

Thomas Campbell received, at the age of 21 years, £60 for his "Pleasures
of Hope," certainly a small amount for a fine poem, yet it gave him a
name, and enabled him to obtain large sums for some very slight literary
services. The publisher of his "Pleasures of Hope" did not treat him in a
generous manner, and his conduct appears to have embittered his mind as
will be gathered from the following anecdote. He was present at a party at
a period when the actions of Bonaparte were most severely condemned. On
being called upon for a toast, Campbell gave "The Health of Napoleon."
This caused a great surprise to all the company, and an explanation was
called for. "The only reason I have for proposing to honour Bonaparte,"
said he, "is that he had the virtue to shoot a bookseller." Palm, a
bookseller, had recently been executed in Germany by order of the French

It may here be mentioned that the copyright of the "Life of Bonaparte," by
Sir Walter Scott, with some copies of the work, was sold for £18,000.

Successful school-books are often gold mines for the authors and
publishers. The copyright of "Vyse's Spelling-Book" was sold for £2,000
and an annuity of £50 to the compiler.

The copyright of Rundell's "Domestic Cookery" realised a couple of
thousand pounds, and many other works of this class have been extremely

Very large sums have been paid for historical works. Hume received £700 a
volume; and Smollett, for a catch-penny rival work, cleared £2,000. The
money made by Henry is set down at £3,300. The booksellers, says Mr.
Leslie Stephen, made £6,000 out of Robertson's "History of Scotland." He
was paid for his "Charles V." the handsome sum of £4,500. Lingard's
"History of England" is, without doubt, an able work, and for it the
author was paid £4,683. The author's profits for the "Decline and Fall of
the Roman Empire," by Gibbon, are put down at £10,000.

The foregoing are respectable figures, but they appear small when compared
with the amounts paid to Lord Macaulay. On one occasion he had handed to
him a cheque for £20,000, representing three-fourths of the net profits of
his "History of England." A short time since, the following statement went
the rounds of the newspaper press, respecting Mr. Justin McCarthy's
popular work, the "History of Our Own Times." The book was offered to a
well-known publishing firm, who agreed to purchase it for £600. On finding
that the author was a Home Ruler, however, this firm asked to be allowed
to withdraw from the contract. Mr. McCarthy, who was greatly annoyed at
the suggestion that he might mutilate history to suit his own private or
political views, then went to Messrs. Chatto and Windus, who at once
agreed to publish the work for him on a basis of mutual profits. In the
interval, the other firm reconsidered the situation, and asked to be
allowed to revive the lapsed contract, but were too late, as the book had
been placed in the hands of the second firm. The work won a flattering
reception, and the author has, up to the present time, received several
thousand pounds as his share of the profits.

In 1897 passed away Dr. Brewer, the compiler of a "Guide to Science," and
other popular books. Shortly before his death, he told an interviewer that
he offered the copyright of his "Guide to Science" to Mr. Thomas Jarrold
for £50, but he declined the venture, saving he would pay a royalty of one
penny in the shilling for every copy sold. It went through two editions in
ten months, and then it was agreed to call 8,000 an edition, the royalty
to be given half-yearly, but any number less than 1,000 to stand over to
the next return. The largest half-yearly royalty was 19,000 copies
(Midsummer, 1836). In 1842, Dr. Brewer offered Mr. Jarrold £2,000 for his
half-share, which he declined. Soon after this, Messrs. Longman and Co.
offered Dr. Brewer £300 per year for life for the copyright. He offered
Mr. Jarrold £4,000 for his share, but he replied that he would not accept
double that sum, in fact that he would not part with it at all.

According to a careful estimate, Charles Dickens received £10,000 a year
from his works for five years, and died worth nearly £100,000. He made
every penny from his writings and readings. We need scarcely repeat the
well-known facts that "he not only lived in a very liberal style for over
thirty years, keeping up a considerable establishment, and often
travelling without regard to cost, but he brought up a large and expensive

Thackeray did not make large sums by his books, when we consider his
undoubted genius and the high place he holds amongst the greatest authors.
It is said that he never made more than £5,000 out of any of his novels.
He received large sums for his lectures; indeed, the platform yielded him
better returns than the publishers.

Eighty thousand pounds is the amount of Bulwer Lytton's earnings as a
novelist. The remuneration he received, when his books first appeared, did
not reach large figures, the sums usually ranging from £600 to £1,000,
although his books were in great favour with lovers of fiction. When a
collected edition of his novels was issued, the publishers paid liberally
for the copyrights. The sale of Lytton's novels is very large; about
80,000 copies of the sixpenny edition, and some thousands of the
three-shillings-and-sixpenny edition, are sold every year.

The Earl of Beaconsfield, it is said, received the largest amount ever
paid in this country for a single novel. His last work, "Endymion," was
sold for £12,000. He only produced one other successful story, and that
was "Lothair." It is stated, on good authority, that these two novels have
together brought more than double the sums realised for his other books,
although inferior to some of his former writings. In his later years the
public paid for the novelty of reading stories by a statesman, and not for
the merits of his works. Some of his novels have recently been brought out
in a shilling edition, but they have already lost the allurements of
fiction, and are only read by students of politics, or persons curious as
to the character of the author.

Wilkie Collins was paid for "Armadale" £5,000. Mr. James Payn recently
received £1,000 for the rights of running one of his novels in the pages
of a sixpenny magazine. This author tells rather a good story about the
mode of payment for his novels. "It was," says Mr. Payn, "the custom with
a very respectable firm of publishers, with whom I did business, to pay my
cheques to the names of my immortal works, instead of to myself: and since
it suited their convenience to do so, I never complained of it, though it
sometimes put me in rather a false position when I presented my demands in
person, as, for example, in the case of the 'Family Scapegrace.' When I
came for the proceeds of 'Found Dead,' it was too much for the sense of
professional propriety of the banker's clerk, who gravely observed: 'It is
very fortunate, Sir, that this cheque is not payable to order, or it would
have to be signed by your executors.'" Said Dickens, to whom Payn related
the incident, "I should not like to have much money at a bank which keeps
so clever a clerk as that."

Anthony Trollope worked hard to gain a footing in the literary world. His
earlier manuscripts were frequently rejected. He tried to induce managers
of theatres to accept his plays, but not one was ever produced. The first
year's labour with the pen, and a very hard year's work too, only yielded
£12. The next year the sum was still small, only amounting to £20, yet he
did not despair. At last, the happy time came, and it was taken at the
flood. It was in 1855 that he scored with "The Warden." From that time he
was a man of mark; his works were in demand, and with ease he earned
£1,000 a year, which soon increased to £2,000 and £3,000, and at the time
of his death to about £4,000. The amounts paid for a few of his books are
as follows: In 1850 was issued "La Vendée," and for it he got £20; twelve
years later he was paid, for "Orley Farm," £3,135; in 1864 was published
"Can You Forgive Her?" for which he received £3,525; and in the same year
was issued "The Small House at Allington," for which he was paid £3,000.
Amongst his other novels for which he received large sums may be mentioned
"The Last Chronicles of Barset," £3,000; "Phineas Finn," £3,200; "He knew
He was Right," £3,200. The last two were published in 1869. He was paid
£3,000 for "The Way We Live Now." "More than nine-tenths of my literary
work," writes Trollope, "has been done in the last twenty years, and
during twelve of those years I followed another profession. I have never
been a slave to this work, giving due time, if not more than due time, to
the amusement I have loved. But I have been constant--and constancy of
labour will conquer all difficulties." In twenty years he made by writing
nearly £70,000. We cannot place Trollope in a high position amongst the
greatest novelists, yet the monetary results of his literary labours must
be regarded as extremely satisfactory.

Large sums of money were made by George Eliot, but we must not forget that
she had some weary years to wait for the days of prosperity, and that the
story of her life contains many records of disappointment after brave
struggles. We read of her living in humble apartments in London; to earn a
little money, which she much needed when she went to Switzerland in 1849,
she tried to sell her books and globes. It was not until she was forty
years of age that she established a reputation by the publication of "Adam
Bede." She received in cash down, for the first sale of her book, some
£40,000, or about £2,000 a year. George Eliot had a great objection to her
novels appearing in serial form, and she sacrificed much money by not
first publishing them in the magazines. Ouida had for a long time the same
objection to her stories being published piecemeal in newspapers and
periodicals. She now appears to have got over her prejudice in this
matter, and consents to write for newspaper readers. It is generally
believed amongst literary and journalistic men, that she is not a
brilliant success as a newspaper novelist, yet Ouida's income as an author
must be very great. The reader of the weekly paper in which fiction forms
a feature is not educated up to her standard; authors like those engaged
on the _Family Herald_ and similar journals are much more popular.

It is pleasing to state that Mr. John Ruskin has made large sums with his
books, but not so much, we think, as his merits entitle him to receive.

We have seen it stated that by "Oceana," by no means a large volume, Mr.
Froude cleared £10,000.

In the "Life of Longfellow," written by his brother, are a few particulars
of his earnings. During 1825--the last year of his college course--he
contributed poems to the United States _Literary Gazette_, and was paid
one or two dollars a poem, the price depending on the length of the piece.
He wrote, in 1840-1, "The Village Blacksmith," "Endymion," and "God's
Acre," and was paid fifteen dollars each. When his fame was fully
established, Mr. Bonner the publisher of the _New York Ledger_, paid him,
for the right of publishing in that paper, 3,000 dollars for "The Hanging
of the Crane."

Lord Tennyson received considerable sums for his poetry. He was paid £100
for the right of printing a short original poem in a monthly magazine. For
his ballad, "The Revenge," in the _Nineteenth Century_, he received 300
guineas. It became known some time ago that his lordship did not deem
£5,000 a year a sufficient sum for the exclusive right of publishing his
works. He changed his publishers several times. He was regarded as a keen
man of business, and it is said that he generally got the best of the

Money never tempted Robert Browning to contribute to the magazines. His
poems always saw the light in book form.

Mr. J. Cuthbert Hadden, who has made a study of this subject, says the
supply of verse to-day is greatly in excess of the demand, and so it
happens that in many quarters poetry is not paid for at all. Most of the
minor poets whose volumes come before the public have to bear the whole
expense of production themselves, and only a very small number escape
without considerable loss. In this connection an amusing story regarding
James Russell Lowell--not quite a minor poet--may be quoted. The cost of
publishing his first book was borne entirely by Mr. Lowell himself, the
edition being a plain but substantial one of 500 copies. The author felt
the usual pride in his achievement, and hoped for almost immediate fame.
Unhappily, only a few copies of the work were sold. Soon after, a fire
occurred in the publishing house where the volumes were stored, and they
were destroyed. As the publisher carried a full insurance on the stock,
Mr. Lowell was able to realise the full cash value on his venture, and he
had the satisfaction of saying that the entire edition was exhausted.

The leading American novelists usually get £1,000 for a serial story in a
magazine, and a similar sum when it is produced in book form. Bret Harte
can command a thousand dollars for a single magazine article. Mrs. Grant
received a cheque for £40,000 for her share of the first volume of General
Grant's "Memoirs," and the whole of her share of the proceeds is put down
at £100,000.

In closing, we must remind our readers that there are two sides to every
picture, and that countless instances of bitter disappointment and death
are recorded in the annals of literature. Only a few in the mighty army of
writers come to the front and win fame and fortune.

"Declined with Thanks."

"Declined with thanks," is a phrase which often disappoints the aspirant
in the wide field of literature. Works of the highest merit are frequently
rejected by publishers; indeed, some of the most popular books in our
language have gone the rounds of the trade without their merits being
recognised. Frequently the authors, after repeated failures, have brought
their works out at their own risk, and have thereby won fame and fortune.
In works of fiction, perhaps the most notable example of a story which was
offered to publisher after publisher only to be returned to its author, is
that of "Robinson Crusoe." It was at last "Printed for W. Taylor, at the
Ship in Paternoster Row, MDCCXIX." It proved a good speculation for the
lucky publisher. He made a profit of one hundred thousand pounds out of
the venture. Jane Austen's name stands high in the annals of English
literature; yet she had a struggle to get her books published. She sold
her "Northanger Abbey" to a Bath bookseller for the insignificant sum of
ten pounds. The manuscript remained for some time in his possession
without being printed, he fearing that if published it would prove a
failure. He was, however, at length induced to issue it, and its merits
caused it to be extensively read. Samuel Warren could not prevail upon a
publisher to bring out his well-known book, "The Diary of a late
Physician," and, much against his inclination, it was first given to the
reading public as a serial in "Blackwood's Magazine." Thackeray wrote his
great novel, "Vanity Fair," for "Colburn's Magazine"; it was refused by
the publishers, who deemed it a work without interest. He tried to place
it with several of the leading London firms who all declined it. He
finally issued it in monthly parts, and by it his fame as a novelist was

It will surprise many to learn that the first volume of Hans Christian
Andersen's "Fairy Tales" was declined by every publisher in Copenhagen.
The book was brought out at the author's own cost, and the charming
collection of stories gained for him world-wide renown. The Rev. James
Beresford could not induce any publisher to pay twenty pounds for his
amusing volume, entitled "The Miseries of Human Life." It was after some
delay issued, and in twelve months passed through nine editions. A
humorous notice by Sir Walter Scott in the "Edinburgh Review" doubtless
did much to increase the circulation of the book. The handsome sum of five
thousand pounds profit was cleared out of this happy venture. In an able
work by a leading American critic, entitled "American Publishers and
English Authors," it is stated that "'Jane Eyre' went the round of the
publishing houses of London, but could not find a market until the
daughter of a publisher accidentally discovered the manuscript in an iron
safe, where it had been lying until it was mouldy. She saw the
extraordinary merit of the novel, and induced her father to publish it."
The foregoing statement is incorrect. As a matter of fact, the manuscript
was sent by rail to Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co., on the 24th August, 1847,
and by the 16th of October in the same year the firm issued the novel.
According to Mrs. Gaskell's "Life of Charlotte Brontë," the future
publishers of "Jane Eyre" were at once most favourably impressed with the
book, and this is fully confirmed by the prompt publication of it.
Respecting its reception by the firm, says Mrs. Gaskell, "the first
reader of the manuscript was so powerfully struck by the character of the
tale, that he reported his impression in very strong terms to Mr. Smith,
who appears to have been much amused by the admiration excited. 'You seem
to have been so much enchanted, that I do not know how to believe you,' he
laughingly said. But when a second reader, in the person of a clear-headed
Scotchman, not given to enthusiasm, had taken the manuscript home in the
evening, and become so deeply interested in it as to sit up half the night
to finish it, Mr. Smith's curiosity was sufficiently excited to prompt him
to read it for himself; and great as were the praises which had been
bestowed upon it, he found that they did not exceed the truth." The first
novel Miss Brontë wrote was entitled "The Professor," which was submitted
to numerous publishers without finding one to accept it. It was not issued
until after the death of the gifted author, and is much inferior to her
other books. Says Mrs. Gaskell, "Mr. Smith has told me a little
circumstance connected with the reception of this manuscript, which seems
indicative of no ordinary character. It came in a brown paper parcel to
65, Cornhill. Besides the address to Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co., there
were on it those of other publishers to whom the tale had been sent, not
obliterated, but simply scored through, so that Mr. Smith at once
perceived the names of some of the houses in the trade to which the
unlucky parcel had gone, without success."

Sterne could not find a bookseller who would pay fifty pounds for
"Tristram Shandy," he therefore issued it on his own account, and it
proved a saleable work, gaining for its author a front place amongst
English humorists. Mrs. Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was written as a
serial for the "National Era," an anti-slavery journal published at
Washington. It was next offered to Messrs. Jewett & Co., but their reader
and critic pronounced it not a story of sufficient interest to be worth
reproducing in book form. The wife of the latter strenuously insisted that
it would meet with a favourable reception, and advised its publication. In
a notice of Mrs. Stowe, it is stated that in four years 313,000 copies had
been printed in the United States alone, probably as many more in Great
Britain. Miss Warner's popular novel, "The Wide, Wide World," was declined
by a leading New York publisher. It is said that several well-known
houses refused to have anything to do with one of the most popular books
of recent times, "Vice Versâ"; even when in type, two American firms did
not discover its worth, and rejected it.

Some notable books in history, travels, poetry, and science have been
"Declined with thanks." Both Murray and Longman were afraid to risk the
publication of Prescott's "Ferdinand and Isabella," but Bentley brought
out the book, and according to his statement it is the most successful
work that he has published. A score of houses refused to publish "Eöthen."
The author in despair handed his manuscript to one of the lesser known
booksellers, and printed it at his own cost; it was extremely successful.
After twenty-five editions of Buchan's "Domestic Medicine" had been sold,
one thousand six hundred pounds was paid for the copyright, yet, strange
to state, before it was published not a single firm in Edinburgh would pay
a hundred pounds for it. Strahan, the King's printer, had offered to him
the first volume of Blair's "Sermons," and, after a careful perusal,
concluded that the work would not be one to find a ready sale. Dr.
Johnson, however, came to the rescue, and with his eloquence induced Mr.
Strahan to pay a hundred pounds for the copyright. It had a large
circulation; for a second volume, three hundred pounds was the amount
gladly paid, and for subsequent volumes six hundred pounds each.

Sir Richard Phillips rejected several famous books. It was to this
bookseller and publisher that Robert Bloomfield offered the copyright of
his "Farmer's Boy" in return for a dozen copies of the work when printed.
He feared it would be a failure, and declined it. The poet issued it by
subscription, and within three years 25,000 copies were sold. This
publisher is said to have had offered to him Byron's early poems. He might
have purchased the copyright of "Waverley" for thirty pounds, but declined
it! He rejected other works which won favourable reception from the press
and the public. It is only right to state that he gave to the world many
valuable volumes, and that he was a man of decided literary ability. A
paragraph went the rounds of the literary press after the death of Mr. J.
H. Parker, the well-known Oxford publisher, stating that the copyright of
Keble's "Christian Year" was offered to Joseph Parker for the sum of
twenty pounds and refused. It was further stated that "during the forty
years which followed the publication of this work nearly 400,000 copies
were sold, and Mr. Keble's share of the profits amounted to fourteen
thousand pounds, being one-fourth the retail price." The brothers Smith
desired to sell for twenty pounds to Mr. Murray their celebrated "Rejected
Addresses," but the great publisher declined the proposal with thanks.
They resolved to bring out the book at their own risk. It hit the popular
taste, and after sixteen editions had been sold, Mr. Murray paid for the
copyright one hundred and thirty-one pounds. The poems yielded the authors
over a thousand pounds.

Editors of newspapers and magazines have often made ludicrous blunders in
rejecting poems of sterling merit. It is generally known that the editor
of the _Greenock Advertiser_ expressed his regret that he could not insert
in his newspaper one of Thomas Campbell's best poems on account of it not
being quite up to his standard.

The Rev. Charles Wolfe submitted to the editor of a leading magazine his
famous ode on "The Burial of Sir John Moore," but it was rejected in such
a scornful manner as to cause the writer to hand it to the editor of _The
Newry Telegraph_, an Ulster newspaper of no standing as a literary
journal. It was published in 1817, in that obscure paper, with the
initials of "C. W." It was reproduced in various publications, and
attracted great attention. It is one of the best in our limited number of
pieces of martial poetry.

Epigrams on Authors.

The epigram is of considerable antiquity. The Greeks placed on their
monuments, statues, and tombs, short poetical inscriptions, written in a
simple style, and it was from this practice that we derive the epigram. In
the earlier examples we fail to find any traces of satire which is now its
chief characteristic. The Romans were the first to give a satirical turn
to this class of literature. Amongst the writers of Latin epigrams,
Catullus and Martial occupy leading places. The French are, perhaps, the
most gifted writers of epigrams. German epigrammatists have put into verse
moral proverbs. Schiller and Goethe did not, however, follow the usual
practice of their countrymen, but wrote many satirical epigrams, having
great force. Many of our English poets have displayed a fine faculty of
writing epigrams.

The birthplace of Homer is a disputed point, and has given rise to not a
few essays and epigrams. Thomas Heywood, in one of his poetical
publications, published in 1640, wrote:--

  "Seven cities warr'd for Homer, being dead,
  Who, living, had no roof to shroud his head."

Much in the same strain wrote Thomas Seward, a century and a half later:--

  "Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead,
  Through which the living Homer begg'd his bread."

The two writers have not stated fully the number of cities which claim to
have given birth to Homer. The number is nearer twenty than seven. Pope,
in his translation of Homer, was assisted by a poet named William Broome,
a circumstance which prompted John Henley to pen the following:--

  "Pope came off clean with Homer; but, they say,
  Broome went before, and kindly swept the way."

Butler, the author of "Hudibras," was much neglected during his life. It
is true that Charles II. and his courtiers read and were delighted with
his poem, but they did not extend to him any patronage. The greater part
of his days were passed in obscurity and poverty. He had been buried about
forty years when a monument was placed in Westminster Abbey to his memory,
by John Barber, a printer, and afterwards an Alderman and Lord Mayor of
London. Samuel Wesley wrote on the memorial the following lines:--

  "Whilst Butler, needy wretch! was yet alive,
  No gen'rous patron would a dinner give;
  See him, when starved to death, and turn'd to dust,
  Presented with a monumental bust!
  The poet's fate is here in emblem shown,--
  He asked for bread, and he receiv'd a stone."

An epitaph similar in sentiment to the foregoing was placed by Horace
Walpole over the remains of Theodore, King of Corsica, who, after many
trials and disappointments, ended his life as a prisoner for debt in
King's Bench, and was buried in the churchyard of St. Anne's,

  "The grave, great teacher, to a level brings
  Heroes and beggars, galley slaves and kings.
  But Theodore this moral learn'd ere dead;
  Fate pour'd its lesson on his living head;
  Bestow'd a kingdom, and denied him bread."

The fourth Earl of Chesterfield, on seeing a whole-length portrait of Nash
between the busts of Sir Isaac Newton and Pope in the rooms at Bath, wrote
as follows:--

  "Immortal Newton never spoke
    More truth than here you'll find;
  Nor Pope himself e'er penn'd a joke
    More cruel on mankind.

  The picture, plac'd the busts between,
    Gives satire all its strength:
  Wisdom and Wit are little seen,
    But Folly at full length."

Stephen Duck's poetry and progress in life gave rise to some lively lines
by the lampooners of the eighteenth century. He was an agricultural
labourer, having a thirst for knowledge and some skill as a writer of
verse. This humble and self-taught student was brought under the notice of
Queen Caroline, who was much interested in his welfare, and pleased with
his poetry; she granted him a pension of £30 a year. He was next made a
yeoman of the guard, an appointment he did not long retain, for he was
advanced to the position of a clergyman in the Church of England, and
presented to the living of Byfleet, Surrey. It is to be feared that his
education was not sufficiently liberal for a clerk in holy orders. Dean
Swift assailed the poor poet as follows:--

  "The thresher Duck could o'er the Queen prevail;
  The proverb says 'No fence against a flail.'
  From threshing corn he turns to thresh his brains,
  For which Her Majesty allows him grains.
  Though 'tis confess'd that those who ever saw
  His poems, think them all not worth a straw.
  Thrice happy Duck, employed in threshing stubble!
  Thy toil is lessen'd and thy profits doubled."

The want of dignity displayed in the foregoing is unworthy of Swift, and
the reply as follows made by Duck is certainly much to his credit:--

  "You think it, censor, mighty strange
    That, born a country clown,
  I should my first profession change
    And wear a chaplain's gown!
  If virtue honours the low race
    From which I was descended,
  If vices your high birth disgrace
    Who should be most commended?"

Duck wrote the epitaph for the tombstone over the remains of Joe Miller of
mirthful memory. The following is a copy of the lines:--

  "If humour, wit, and honesty could save
  The hum'rous, witty, honest from the grave;
  The grave had not so soon this tenant found
  Whom honesty, and wit, and humour crowned.
  Or could esteem and love preserve our breath,
  And guard us longer from the stroke of death,
  The stroke of death on him had later fell,
  Whom all mankind esteem'd and lov'd so well."

The poet-preacher was advanced to the chaplaincy of a regiment of Dragoon
Guards. Sad to relate, in the year 1756, in a fit of insanity, he took his
own life.

During the Gordon riots on the 7th of January, 1780, Lord Mansfield's
house in Bloomsbury Square was burnt, and in the flames perished his
valuable library, which he commenced collecting when a lad at school. It
included many valuable volumes and materials for memoirs of his times.
Cowper thus wrote on the subject:--

  "So then--the Vandals of our isle,
    Sworn foes of sense and law,
  Have burnt to dust a nobler pile
    Than ever Roman saw!

  And Murray sighs o'er Pope and Swift,
    And many a treasure more,
  The well-judged purchase, and the gift
    That graced his letter'd store.

  Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn,
    The loss was his alone;
  But ages yet to come shall mourn
    The burning of his own."

A pleasing and playful epigram on Robert Bloomfield, the author of "The
Farmer's Boy," was written by Henry Kirke White:--

  "Bloomfield, thy happy omen'd name
  Ensures continuance of thy fame;
  Both sense and truth this verdict give,
  While _fields_ shall _bloom_ thy name shall live."

The residences of Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge near the English
Lakes suggested the title of lake poets, and of their works the Rev. Henry
Townshend wrote:--

  "They come from the lakes--an appropriate quarter
  For poems diluted with plenty of water."

Surely Lord Holland was a little wide of the mark when he penned the
following epigram, complaining that Southey did not write sufficient
laureate poems; the fact is, he wrote too many to sustain his reputation
as a poet:--

  "Our Laureate Bob defrauds the King--
  He takes his cash and will not sing;
  Yet on he goes, I know not why,
  Singing for us who do not buy."

In the _Diary_ of Thomas Moore, under date of September 4, 1825, it is
stated: "Lord H. full of an epigram he had just written on Southey, which
we all twisted and turned into various shapes; he is as happy as a boy
during the operation. He suggests the following as the last couplet:--

  "And for us, who will not buy,
  Goes singing on eternally."

It has been truthfully observed that William Wordsworth "found poetry in
the most common-place events of life, and described them in familiar
language; he naturally contended that there was little real difference
between poetry and prose." Byron thus rallies him on the theory:--

  "The simple Wordsworth, framer of a lay
  As soft as evening in his favourite May,
  Who warns his friend, 'to shake off toil and trouble,
  And quit his books, for fear of growing double;'
  Who, both by precept and example, shows
  That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose;
  Convincing all, by demonstration plain,
  Poetic souls delight in prose inane."

Theodore Hook produced some pungent verses; here is a slight example on
Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound":--

  "Shelley styles his new poem _Prometheus Unbound_,
  And 'tis like to remain so while time circles round;
  For surely an age would be spent in the finding
  A reader so weak as to pay for the binding!"

Scott wrote a poem which was published in 1815, under the title of _The
Field of Waterloo_, and prefaced it thus: "It may be some apology for the
imperfections of this poem, that it was composed hastily, and during a
short tour upon the Continent, where the author's labours were liable to
frequent interruption; but its best apology is, that it was written for
the purpose of assisting the Waterloo subscription."

This plea did not disarm hostile criticism. Thomas, Lord Erskine,
expressed himself as follows:--

  "On Waterloo's ensanguined plain
  Lie tens of thousands of the slain;
  But none by sabre or by shot
  Fell half so flat as Walter Scott."

Wrote Thomas Moore in his _Diary_: "I have read _Walter_-loo. The battle
murdered many, and _he_ has murdered the battle; 'tis sad stuff."

The Earl of Carlisle wrote a sixpenny pamphlet advocating small theatres;
and on the day it was issued the newspapers contained the announcement
that he had given a large subscription to a public fund, a circumstance
which formed the theme of the following epigram by his cousin, Lord Byron:

  "Carlisle subscribes a thousand pounds
    Out of his rich domains;
  And for sixpence circles round
    The product of his brains:
  'Tis thus the difference you may hit
  Between his fortune and his wit."

Byron made his unhappy marriage the subject of at least three epigrams.
Here are two of them as follows:--


  "Here's a happy new year! But with reason
    I beg you'll permit me to say--
  Wish me many returns of the season,
    But as few as you please of the day."

At a later period he wrote--

  "This day, of all our days, has done
    The worst for _me_ and _you_:
  'Tis just six years since we were _one_,
    And five since we were _two_."

Lord Byron's friend, Thomas Moore, wrote many excellent epigrams, and not
a few were penned about him. He published his first volume of poems under
the name of Thomas Little. It is stated that a lady found a copy of the
book under the pillow of her maid's bed, and wrote on it in pencil:--

  "You read _Little_, I guess;
  I wish you'd read _less_."

The servant was equal to her mistress, and wrote:--

  "I read Little before,
  Now I mean to read _Moore_."

Lord Byron wrote the following in 1811 on Moore's farcical opera:--

      "Good plays are scarce;
      So Moore writes farce;
  The poet's fame grows brittle--
      We knew before
      That Little's Moore,
  But now 'tis Moore that's Little."

Respecting Moore's duel with Lord Jeffrey, Theodore Hook composed the
following lines:--

  "When Anacreon would fight, as the poets have said,
    A reverse he displayed in his vapour,
  For while all his poems were loaded with lead,
    His pistols were loaded with paper.

  For excuses, Anacreon old custom may thank,
    Such salvo he should not abuse;
  For the cartridge, by rule, is always made blank
    That is fired away at _Reviews_."

"Moore is here called Anacreon," says W. Davenport Adams, "in allusion to
his translations from that poet." The duel was owing to an article in the
_Edinburgh Review_, which Moore thought proper to resent by challenging
the editor. The combatants were, however, arrested on the ground, and
conveyed to Bow Street, where the pistols were found to contain merely a
charge of powder, the balls having in some way disappeared. Byron alludes
to the circumstance in _English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_:--

  "When Little's leadless pistol met his eye,
  And Bow Street myrmidons stood laughing by."

After this strange encounter, the poet and critic were firm friends.

Slips of the pen have given rise to some smart epigrammatic corrections.
Albert Smith wrote in an album as follows:--

  "Mont Blanc is the Monarch of Mountains,
    They crown'd him long ago;
  But who they got to put it on
    Nobody seems to know."
                                  ALBERT SMITH.

Thackeray was successfully solicited to contribute to the same book, and
wrote under the fore-going:--


  "I know that Albert wrote in a hurry,
      To criticize I scarce presume;
  But methinks that Lindley Murray,
      Instead of _who_ had written _whom_."
                                  W. M. THACKERAY.

Samuel Warren on one occasion made a slip in writing in an album,
misquoting Moore, writing "glory's throb" instead of "glory's thrill." The
mistake formed the subject of the following impromptu lines by Mr. Digby

  "Warren, thy memory was poor
    The Irish bard to rob,
  Had you remembered Tommy Moore,
    Glory would 'thrill,' not 'throb.'"

The vanity of Mr. Warren was unusually largely developed, and gave rise to
a number of amusing anecdotes. Sir George Rose thus refers to his

  "Samuel Warren, though able, yet vainest of men,
  Could he guide with discretion his tongue and his pen,
  His course would be clear for--'Ten Thousand a Year;'
  But limited else be a brief--'Now and Then.'"

For a long period Mr. Warren was the Recorder for Hull. Mr. Thompson, the
Town Clerk, was a gentleman of cultivated literary tastes, and able to
compose a neat epigram. He wrote the following:--

  "Our Recorder, Sam Warren, from all that I hear,
    Is one of the kindest of men,
  For a friend he presents with 'Ten Thousand a Year,'
    And adds to the gift 'Now and Then.'"

Mr. William Harrison Ainsworth, the romance writer, was very unpopular
with the contributors of _Punch_, and many were the satires on him in its
pages. Colburn published a magazine, in which many of Ainsworth's novels
appeared, and this gave rise to the following epigram:--

  "Says Ainsworth to Colburn:
    'A plan in my pate is
  To give my romance as
    A supplement gratis.'

  "Says Colburn to Ainsworth:
    ''Twill do very nicely,
  For that will be charging
    Its value precisely.'"

In early manhood, Edwin Paxton Hood called upon Bulwer Lytton without any
introduction. The servant told him that his master could not be seen. On
receiving the intimation, Hood took out of his pocket pencil and paper,
and wrote as follows:--

  "A son of song, to fame unknown,
    Stands waiting in your hall below;
  Your footman tells him to begone;
    Say, mighty Bulwer, shall he go?"

It is not surprising to learn that the impromptu lines proved an effective
introduction. The interview was the first of many pleasant meetings
between the author of _The Caxtons_ and Mr. Paxton Hood.

Poetical Graces.

Literary by-paths furnish some singular specimens of poetical graces. We
produce a few for the entertainment of our readers.

Robert Fergusson, the Edinburgh poet, was born in 1751, and was a student
at St. Andrews' University from his thirteenth to his seventeenth year. It
was the duty of each student, in turn, to ask a blessing at the dinner
table. One day, to the consternation of all, the youthful bard repeated
the following lines:

  "For rabbits young, and for rabbits old,
  For rabbits hot, and for rabbits cold,
  For rabbits tender, and for rabbits tough,
  Our thanks we render, for we've had enough."

The masters of the college deliberated how they should punish the
graceless poet. It was finally resolved not to censure him, but to have in
the future a more spare supply of rabbits. Poor Fergusson's sad career
closed in a lunatic asylum at an early age, not, however, before he had
enriched Scottish poetical literature with some important contributions.

Burns appears to have had a great admiration for this wayward son of song.
He placed over his remains in the Canongate Churchyard, Edinburgh, a
tombstone bearing the following inscription:--

      "Here lies Robert Fergusson,
      Poet, born September 5th, 1751,
      Died October 16th, 1774.

  No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay
    No storied urn, nor animated bust;
  This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way
    To pour her sorrows o'er her Poet's dust."

On the back of the stone it is stated:--

"By special grant of the Managers to Robert Burns, who erected this stone,
this burial place is ever to remain sacred to the memory of Robert

More than one poetical grace is attributed to the facile pen of Burns. His
grace before dinner is well known, and is as follows:--

  "Oh Thou who kindly dost provide
    For every creature's want!
  We bless Thee, God of nature wide,
    For all Thy goodness lent:
  And if it please Thee, Heavenly guide,
    May never worse be sent,
  But whether granted or denied,
    Lord, bless us with content."

It is said that at one of Burns's convivial dinners he was desired to say
grace, and he gave the following, impromptu:

  "O Lord we do Thee humbly thank
    For what we little merit;--
  Now Jean may tak' the flesh away,
    And Will bring on the spirit."

On one occasion a rhymster, who had placed before him a supper small in
quantity and poor in quality, invoked a blessing with the following

  "O Thou who bless'd the loaves and fishes
  Look down upon these two poor dishes;
  And though the 'tatoes be but small,
  Lord make them large enough for all;
  For if they do our bellies fill,
  'Twill be a wondrous miracle."

This reminds us of an epigram entitled "Dress v. Dinner:"--

  What is the reason, can you guess,
  Why men are poor, and women thinner?
  So much do they for dinner dress,
      There's nothing left to dress for dinner.

On a graceless peer an epigrammatist wrote:--

  "'By proxy I pray, and by proxy I vote,'
    A graceless peer said to a churchman of note;
  Who answered,'My lord, then I venture to say,
    You'll to heaven ascend in a similar way.'"

Here is a grateful grace:--

  "Some hae meat that canna eat,
    An' some cou'd eat that want it;
  But we hae meat, an' we can eat,
    Sae let the Lord be thankit."

The Rev. Samuel Wesley, formerly vicar of Epworth, and another friend were
entertained to dinner at Temple Belwood, by a host noted as a strange
compound of avarice and oddity. Mr. Wesley returned thanks with the
following impromptu lines:--

  "Thanks for the feast, for 'tis no less
  Than eating manna in the wilderness,
  Here meagre famine bears controlless sway,
  And ever drives each fainting wretch away.
  Yet here, O how beyond a saint's belief,
  We've seen the glories of a chine of beef;
  Here chimneys smoke, which never smoked before,
  And we have dined, where we shall dine no more."

In conclusion we give a vegetarian grace. The first four lines are to be
said before the meal:--

  "These fruits do Thou, O Father, bless,
  Which Mother Earth to us doth give;
  No blood doth stain our feast to day,
  In Thee we trust, and peaceful live."

The next is a form of thanksgiving after a vegetarian meal:--

  "We thank Thee, Lord, for these Thy fruits,
  Which Mother Earth to us doth give;
  No blood hath stained our feast to-day,
  In Thee we trust, and peaceful live!"

Poetry on Panes.

In a variety of places, but more especially in old village inns,
reflections in verse, good, bad, and indifferent, have been found
scratched upon window-panes. We have carefully copied the best examples
which have come under our notice, and present a batch herewith, believing
that they may entertain our readers.

A genial old Yorkshire parson appears at the commencement of the present
century to have been greatly pleased with an inn situated between
Northallerton and Boroughbridge, for he visited it daily to enjoy his pipe
and glass. On one of its window-panes he inscribed some lines, of which
the following is a literal copy:--

  "Here in my wicker chair I sitt,
  From folly far, and far from witt,
  Content to live, devoid of care,
  With country folks and country fare;
  To listen to my landlord's tale,
  And drink his health in Yorkshire ale;
  Then smoak and read the _York Courant_;
  I'm happy and 'tis all I want.
  Though few my tythes, and light my purse,
  I thank my God it is no worse."

Here is another Yorkshire example, written towards the close of the last
century; it is from an old wayside inn near Harewood-bridge, on the Leeds
and Harrogate road:--

  "Gaily I lived, as Ease and Nature taught,
  And passed my little Life without a thought;
  I wonder, then, why Death, that tyrant grim,
  Should think of me, who never thought of him."

Under the foregoing, the following was written:

  "Ah! why forget that Death should think of thee;
  If thou art Mortal, such must surely be;
  Then rouse up reason, view thy hast'ning end,
  And lose no time to make God thy Friend."

In the old coaching days, the Dog and Doublet, at Sandon, Staffordshire,
was a popular house. A guest wrote on one of its window panes the
following recommendation:--

  "Most travellers to whom these roads are known,
  Would rather stay at Sandon than at Stone!
  Good chaises, horses, treatment, and good wines,
  They always meet with at James Ballantine's."

A penniless poet wrote on a tavern window-pane the lines:--

  "O Chalk! to me, and to the poor, a friend,
  On Thee my life and happiness depend;
  On Thee with joy, with gratitude I think,
  For, by thy bounty, I both eat and drink."

"Chalk" is a slang word for credit. Innkeepers kept their accounts on the
back of a door, written with chalk.

The following epigram was written under a pane disfigured with

  "Should you ever chance to see,
    A man's name writ on a glass,
  Be sure he owns a diamond,
    And his parent owns an ass."

On the accession of Her Majesty, this _jeu d'esprit_ was inscribed on an
inn window:--

  "The Queen's with us, the Whigs exulting say;
  For when she found us in, she let us stay.
  It may be so; but give me leave to doubt
  How long she'll keep you when she finds you out."

The following lines dated 1793, were written on a window-pane at the Hotel
des Pays Bas, Spa Belgium:--

  "I love but one, and only one,
    Ah, Damon, thou art he!
  Love thou but one, and only one,
    And let that one be me!"

Early in the present century, it was customary for the actors to write
their names on the panes in one of the windows of the York Theatre. On the
glass of the same window were found inscribed these lines.

  "The rich man's name embellished stands on brass;
  The player simply scribbles his on glass,
  Appropriate tablet to the wayward fate--
  A brittle shining, evanescent state:
  The fragile glass destroyed--farewell the name;
  The actor's glass consumed--farewell his fame."

Our next example, dated 1834, from Purwell Hall, Batley, Yorkshire, was
composed by a Miss Taylor. It is generally believed that her heart was won
by a lover who did not meet with the approbation of her friends, and that
they made her prisoner in one of the rooms of the old Hall, and there, on
a pane of glass, were written the lines which follow:--

  "Come, gentle Muse, wont to divert
  Corroding cares from anxious heart;
  Adjust me now to bear the smart
  Of a relenting angry heart.
  What though no being I have on earth,
  Though near the place that gave me birth,
  And kindred less regard do pay
  Than thy acquaintance of to-day:
  Know what the best of men declare,
  That they on earth but strangers are,
  Nor matter it a few years hence
  How fortune did to thee dispense,
  If--in a palace thou hast dwelt,
  Or--in a cell of penury felt--
  Ruled as a prince--served as a slave,
  Six feet of earth is all thou'lt have.
    Hence give my thoughts a nobler theme,
  Since all the world is but a dream
  Of short endurance."

Robert Burns wrote several lines on tavern windows. On a pane of glass at
the Queensberry Arms, Sanquhar, he inscribed the following.

  "Ye gods! ye gave to me a wife
    Out of your grace and favour,
  To be a comfort to my life;
    And I was glad to have her.
  But if your providence divine
    For other ends design her,
  To obey your will at any time,
    I'm ready to resign her."

Next may be quoted:--

  "Envy, if thy jaundiced eye
  Through this window chance to pry,
  To thy sorrow, thou wilt find
  All that's generous, all that's kind:
  Virtue, friendship, every grace
  Dwelling in this happy place."

Burns's lines written on the window-panes of the Globe Tavern, Dumfries,
have frequently been quoted. The following inscription refers to the
charms of the daughter of the factor of Closeburn estate, when the poet
resided at Ellisland:--

  "O lovely Polly Stewart,
    O charming Polly Stewart,
  There's not a flower that blooms in May,
    That's half so fair as thou art."

In some editions of the poet's works, the following verse, stated to have
been copied from a window of the same tavern, is given:--

  "The graybeard, Old Wisdom, may boast of his treasures;
    Grant me with gay Folly to live;
  I grant him his calm-blooded, time settled pleasures;
    But Folly has raptures to give."

Such are a few of the many rhymes scratched upon glass. Some of the panes
on which they were inscribed may now be broken, and this may be the only
means of preserving them.

English Folk-Rhymes.

English folk-rhymes are very numerous and curious. Characteristics of
persons and places have given rise to not a few which are frequently far
from complimentary. Weather-lore is often expressed in rhyme; the rustic
muse has besides rendered historic events popular, and enabled persons to
remember them who are not readers of books. The lines often lack polish,
but are seldom without point.

Amongst the more ancient rhymes are those respecting grants of land. The
following is a good example, and is from Derbyshire:--

  "Me and mine
  Give thee and thine
  Millners Hay
  And Shining Cliff,
  While grass is green
  And hollies rough."

The old story of the grant is thus related. Years ago, a member of the
ancient family of Lowe had the honour of hunting with the king and his
nobles. Lowe rode a splendid horse, the only one in at the death. The
king admired the animal very much, and the owner presented it to His
Majesty. The horse "mightily pleased the king." Some little time
afterwards, Lowe waited upon the king to beg a brier bed and a
watering-place, which were Shining Cliff and Millners Hay. The request was
at once complied with. The tale does not end here. It is related that "an
envious courtier told the king that he did not know what he was doing, for
what he was giving away was a great wood with a large tract of land." Upon
this, Lowe said to His Majesty: "King or no king?"--"Why, king, Lowe."
Adding with prompitude: "The brier-bed and watering-place are thine:" the
rhyme above quoted being given as the title for the grant.

It is asserted that Athelstan granted the first charter to the ancient
borough of Hedon, Yorkshire, in these words:--

  "As free make I thee
  As eye see or ear hear."

It is said a similar charter was granted by the same king to the
neighbouring town of Beverley.

An old, old Norfolk rhyme says:--

  "Rising was a seaport town,
    And Lynn it was a wash;
  But now Lynn is a seaport town,
    And Rising fares the worst."

It is said at Norwich:--

  "Caistor was a city ere Norwich was none,
  And Norwich was built of Caistor stone."

"About half-way between Curbar and Brompton, to the right of the turnpike
leading from Barlow to Sheffield," writes William Wood, "there is, far on
the moor, a very level flat piece of ground, near a mile square, most
remarkable for its boggy nature, so much so that it is dangerous to cross,
or at times to approach. Here, before the Roman invasion, says the legend,
stood a town or village, the inhabitants of which lived, according to
Diodorus Siculus, in small cots or huts built of wood, the walls of stakes
or wattles, like hurdles, and covered with rushes or reeds. These
dwellings, with their inhabitants, were swallowed up by one of those
convulsions of nature so destructive at times to the habitations of
mankind." Respecting Leechfield and Chesterfield are the following lines
current in Derbyshire:--

  "When Leechfield was a market town,
  Chesterfield was gorse and broom;
  Now Chesterfield's a market town,
  Leechfield a marsh is grown."

Respecting Nertoun, a Somersetshire village, near Taunton, is this

  "Nertoun was a market-town
  When Taunton was a furzy down."

A Scottish rhyme says:--

  "York was, London is,
  And Edinburgh will be
  The biggest of the three."

Says a popular English rhyme:--

  "Lincoln was, London is,
  And York shall be
  The fairest city of the three."

In the days of old it was the practice to allow the wives of the Lord
Mayors of York to retain by courtesy the title Lady for life, and this
custom gave rise to the following couplet:--

  "The Lord Mayor's a lord but a year and a day;
  But his Lady's a lady for ever and aye."

Few English towns have made greater progress than the thriving port of
Hull. Its prosperity was predicted long ago:--

  "When Myton is pulled down,
  Hull shall become a great town."

As a matter of history, it may be stated that when the town was threatened
by Charles I., a number of houses in Myton Lane, as well as the
Charter-house, were laid in ruins by Sir John Hotham, governor of Hull,
so that they might not give shelter to the Royalists. Ray refers to this
couplet, and, in error, calls Myton, Dighton.

Selling church-bells has given rise to satirical rhymes. Here are three
Lincolnshire rhymes on this topic:--

  "The poor Hatton people
  Sold the bells to build up the steeple."

The next says:--

  "Owersby's parish,
    Wicked people,
  Sold their bells to Kelsey
    To build a steeple."

It is stated in the third:--

  "Poor Scartho people,
  Sold their bells to repair the steeple."

About 1710, the spire of Arlesey Church, Bedfordshire, fell down, and it
is believed the bells were broken. The metal was sold to a distant parish
to raise money to rebuild the spire, and until the year 1877 only one
small bell was suspended in the steeple to call the inhabitants to the
house of prayer. The transaction gave rise to the saying:--

  "Arlesey, Arlesey, wicked people,
  Sold their bells to build their steeple."

About half a century later, a similar accident occurred at Welstead, and
the bishop granted a license to sell three of the bells, to enable the
parishioners with the proceeds to restore the tower. It gave rise to a
taunting distich similar to the one at Arlesey.

On the walls of Newington Church, London, in 1793, was written a rhyme
anent the rebuilding of the church without a steeple and selling the

  "Pious parson, pious people
  Sold the bells to build the steeple;
  A very fine trick of the Newington people,
  To sell the bells to build a steeple."

Rhymes on steeples are very common; perhaps the best known is the one on
Preston, Lancashire:--

  "Proud Preston, poor people,
  High church and low steeple."

In a somewhat similar strain is the one on Bowness-on-Windermere:--

  "New church and old steeple,
  Poor town and proud people."

Lincolnshire rhymes are very numerous, and a complete collection would
almost fill a book. Here are three:--

  "Gainsbro' proud people
  Built a new church to an old steeple."

According to the next:--

  "Luddington poor people
  Built a brick church to a stone steeple."

A question is put and answered thus:--

  "Boston! Boston!
  What hast thou to boast on?
  High steeple, proud people,
  And shoals that souls are lost on."

The village of Ugley, Essex, supplies a satirical couplet:--

  "Ugley church, Ugley steeple,
  Ugley parson, Ugley people."

An old triplet describes the characteristics of three church spires

  "Bloxham for length,
  Adderbury for strength,
  King-Sutton for beauty."

Almost every district furnishes examples of bell rhymes. We give one
example, and it is from Derbyshire:--

  "Crich two roller-boulders,
  Winfield ting-tangs,
  Alfreton kettles,
  And Pentrich pans,
  Kirk-Hallam candlesticks,
  Cossall cow-bells,
  Denby cracked puncheons,
  And Horsley merry bells."

It is very generally believed in Derbyshire that the town of Alfreton was
once the stake at a game of cards--"put," and that the loser exclaimed on
the cards being dealt out:--

  "If I have not an ace, a deuce, and tray,
  Farewell, Alfreton, for ever and aye."

There is a similar couplet respecting Carnfield Hall, near to Alfreton. It
is related by Mr. E. Kirk, a Lancashire folk-lorist, that the owner of a
large farm in Goosnargh, called Landscales, staked his land at a game of
"put." He received his three cards, which were a tray, a deuce, and an
ace, and he put--that is, struck the table with his fist, in proof of his
resolution to abide by the issue of his cards. His opponent had two trays
and a deuce. The farm was consequently lost, and its owner exclaimed:--

  "Ace, deuce, and tray,
  Landscales, go thy way."

A Derbyshire rhyme refers to the inhabitants of four places as follows:--

  "Ripley ruffians,
  Butterly blocks,
  Swanwick bulldogs,
  Alfreton shacks."

Equally severe is the following on the people of the villages between
Norwich and Yarmouth:--

  "Halvergate hares, Reedham rats,
  Southwood swine, and Cantley cats,
  Acle asses, Moulton mules,
  Beighton bears, and Freethorpe fools."

Of Derbyshire folk it is said:--

  "Derbyshire born and Derbyshire bred,
  Strong in the arm, but weak in the head."

The next are two Kentish rhymes:--

  "Sutton for mutton
    Kerby for beef,
  South Darve for gingerbread,
    Dartford for a thief."

This is complimentary:--

  "English lord, German count, and French marquies,
  A yeoman of Kent is worth all three."

It is said of Herefordshire:--

  "They who buy a house in Herefordshire
  Pay three years' purchase for the air."

Says a Gloucestershire rhyme:--

  "Blest is the eye
  Betwixt Severn and Wye."

In the same shire is the next couplet:--

  "Beggarly Birley, strutting Stroud,
  Hampton poor, and Painswick proud."

Many more rhymes similar to the foregoing might be given, if space
permitted; but we have only room for a few more examples, and they relate
to the weather. An old distich says:--

  "When clouds are on the hills,
  They'll come down by the mills."

Another rhyme states:--

  "When the mist comes from the hill,
  Then good weather it doth spill.
  When the mist comes from the sea,
  Then good weather it will be."

In Worcestershire there is a saying:--

  "When Bredon Hill puts on his hat,
  Ye men of the vale, beware of that."

Says a Yorkshire rhyme:--

  "When Oliver's Mount puts on his hat,
  Scarbro' town must pay for that."

In the same broad shire is a similar couplet:--

  "When Ingleboro' wears a hat,
  Ribblesdale'll hear o' that."

The Poetry of Toast Lists and Menu Cards.

The public dinner-season in provincial England commences early in October
and ends in the middle of March. During that period, at the slightest
provocation, our countrymen are prepared to dine together, not with a
desire of over-indulgence in eating, but to enjoy the pleasant company
usually gathered round the festive board. It is an admitted fact that the
men who are in the habit of attending banquets are generally most
abstemious. Speech, story, and song form a pleasing part of the
proceedings of literary-society dinners, masonic banquets, and the more
homely but not less enjoyable suppers held in connection with the Burns'
Clubs. The toast lists and menu cards are often very interesting; they are
frequently artistic in design, and enriched with quotations from the
poets, which renders them of more than passing interest. A few quotations
from some of the best of those which have come under our notice seem worth
reproducing. The authors represented cover a wide field, ranging from
Shakespeare to Tennyson. The former is the most quotable poet, and he is
most frequently drawn upon. Burns, however, runs him very closely.

In turning over a pile of toast lists, the first to attract our attention
is the one prepared for the Hull Shakespearean Festival. On the front page
is a portrait of the bard and the familiar line of "rare" Ben Jonson:--

  "He was not of an age, but for all time."

Under the first toast--that of the Queen--are two lines from _Henry V._:--

  "God and his angels guard your sacred throne,
  And make you long become it."

The toast of the evening follows: "The Immortal Memory of
Shakespeare"--Dr. Johnson's well-known verse beneath it:--

  "Each change of many-coloured life he drew;
  Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new;
  Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,
  And panting Time toiled after him in vain."

The third speaker had for his topic "Shakespeare's Universality," with a
motto from _Romeo and Juliet_:--

  "Monarch of the universal earth."

Actors and actresses were next toasted under the heading of
"Shakespearean Exponents," with a quotation from _Othello_:--

  "Speak of me as I am: nothing extenuate,
  Nor set down aught in malice."

The next theme was "Shakespeare and Tragedy," with a line from _Richard

  "I live to look upon their tragedy."

Then followed "Shakespeare and Comedy," with two lines from the _Taming of
the Shrew_:--

  "Frame your mind for mirth and merriment,
  Which bars a thousand harms."

Under the sentiment of "Shakespeare and History," is a line from _Henry
IV._ (Part II.):--

  "There is a history in all men's lives."

Lastly, "Shakespearean Women" were remembered, and under the toast are
three lines as follow from the third part of _Henry VI._:--

  "'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud;
  'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired;
  'Tis modesty that makes them seem divine."

The programme of music is headed with a couple of lines from _Twelfth

  "If music be the food of love, play on;
  Give me excess of it."

At the foot of the card is printed "Good Night," and a quotation from
_Macbeth_, as follows:--

    "At once good night:
  Stand not upon the order of your going,
  But go at once."

The toast list of a local literary society contains some happy quotations
from Shakespeare. The speakers are reminded at the commencement of the
programme, in the words from _Hamlet_, that "Brevity is the soul of wit."
The two lines under the toast of "The Prince and Princess of Wales" are
from _Pericles_:--

  "As jewels lose their glory if neglected,
  So princes their renown if not respected."

A line from _Richard III._:--

  "Arm, fight, and conquer for England's sake."

was the motto to the toast of "The Army, Navy, and Auxiliary Forces."
Under the toast of "The Officers of the Club" are words from _Othello_:--

  "We cannot all be masters."

Two good lines from the _Taming of the Shrew_ are given with the toast of
"Literature and Science":--

  "My books and instruments shall be my company,
  On them to look and practise by myself."

A line under the toast of "The Press" says, in the words of the _Merchant
of Venice_:--

  "There are some shrewd contents in your paper."

We have seen on several menu cards:--

  "A good digestion to you all, and once more
  I shower a welcome on you--welcome all."
                                  --_Henry VIII._

A more general quotation (from _Macbeth_) is:--

  "Now good digestion wait on appetite,
  And health on both."

The bill of fare for the Tercentenary Banquet held in 1864, at
Stratford-on-Avon, in honour of Shakespeare, is perhaps the best specimen
of cuisine literature ever produced. The following are a few of the
edibles and the quotations:--

Roast turkey:--

  "Why, here comes swelling like a turkey-cock."
                                  --_Henry V._

Roast fowls:--

  "There is a fowl without a feather."
                                  --_Comedy of Errors._


  "O dainty duck!"--_Midsummer Night's Dream._

Boar's head:--

  "Like a full-acorned boar."--_Cymbeline._

York hams:--

  "Sweet stem from York's great stock."
                                  --_Henry VI._ (Part I.).


  "Silence is only commendable in a neat's tongue dried."
                                  --_Merchant of Venice._

Mayonnaise of lamb:--

  "Was never gentle lamb more mild."--_Richard II._

Braised lamb and beef:--

  "What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
  A dish that I love to feed upon."
                                  --_Taming of the Shrew._

Roast lamb:--

  "Come you to seek the lamb here?"
                                  --_Measure for Measure._

Lobster and mayonnaise salads:--

  "Sallet was born to do me good."--_Henry IV._ (Part II.).

Dressed lobsters and crabs:--

    "There's no meat like them: I could wish my best friend at such a
    feast."--_Timon of Athens._

Desserts, cakes, jellies, and creams:--

  "The queen of curds and cream."--_Winter's Tale._

Dressed potatoes:--

  "Let the sky rain potatoes."--_Merry Wives of Windsor._

Bitter ale:--

  "And here's the pot of good double beer, neighbour:
  Drink, and fear not your man."--_Henry VI._ (Part II.).

In addition to the foregoing, many interesting and well-chosen quotations
appear on the famous bill of fare.

The bill of fare of the Annual Dinner of the Norwich Saint Andrew Society,
held in 1896, was headed, "Caird o' Guid Things":--

    Cockie Leekie.

    Sole-fleuks, baned an' stovit.
    Caller Cod wi' Sauce o' Caller Ou.

    "Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
    Great Chieftain, o' the puddin' race!"

    "A nip o' Fairntosh, an' it's no ower perjinkitie measure!"

    Sheeps' Hurdies.
    Sirloins o' Nowte.
    Biled Chuckies an' Tongue.
    Rostit Bubblyjock wi' Sausages.
    Tatties Biled an' Champit.
    Curly Kail.

    "I'm thinkin', Sandy, we wadna be the waur o' a drappie."

    Roastit Feesants wi' Raupit Tatties.

    Figmaleerie o' Fruits.
    Plum Puddin'.
    Mince Pies.
    Apple Tairts and Cream.
    Kebbuck wi' Celery an' guid Oat Farls.

    "Let them that wants Coffee, hae Coffee; I'm thinkin' I'll hae a dram!"

The birthday of Burns is celebrated in all parts of the world: wherever
Scotchmen are located the bard is honoured. We have before us a number of
Burns dinner toast lists, and several are headed "Should auld acquaintance
be forgot?"

The following are from the toast lists of the Hull Burns' Club. Under the
toast of "The Queen," two lines appear:--

  "In the field of proud honour, our swords in our hand,
  Our Queen and our country to save."

To the toast of "The Mayor, Sheriff, and Corporation" is this couplet:--

  "How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite;
  How virtue and vice blend their black and their white."

The toast of the evening, "The Memory of Burns," has under it the
following verse from _The Cotter's Saturday Night_:--

  "O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
    For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent!
  Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
    Be blessed with health, and peace, and sweet content."

We have seen inscribed with this toast a verse from one of Bennoch's
beautiful poems:--

  "With reverent silence we will fill
    A cup whene'er this day returns,
  And pledge the memory of the Bard,
    The Bard of Nature--Robert Burns,
                    Immortal Burns."

Appended to the toast of "The Hull Burns' Club" are the noble lines:--

  "It's coming yet, for a' that,
  That man to man, the warld o'er,
  Shall brithers be for a' that."

"The Visitors," "Kindred Societies," are included with suitable
quotations. The verse under the toast of "The Press" is a happy

  "Here's freedom to him that wad read,
    Here's freedom to him that wad write,
  There's nane ever feared that the truth should be heard,
    But they whom the truth would indite."

We have seen the following quoted several times with this toast:--

  "A chiel's amang you takin' notes,
    And faith he'll prent it."

The concluding toast, that of "The Lassies," has the familiar lines:--

  "The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
  He dearly loved the lassies, O!"

At a dinner of the Hull Literary Club the toast list was enriched with
quotations from the works of the Poet Laureate. An excerpt from _The
Princess_ on the first page says:--

        "Hark the bell
  For dinner, let us go!"

Two lines from a poem, _To the Rev. F. D. Maurice_, head the list:--

  "You'll have no scandal while you dine,
  But honest talk and wholesome wine."

To the toast of "The Queen" are four lines, as follow:--

  "Her Court was pure; her life serene;
    God gave her peace; her land reposed;
    A thousand claims to reverence closed
  In her as Mother, Wife, and Queen."

Five lines from _The Battle of Brunanburgh_ are given to the toast of "Our
Brave Defenders":--

                "Theirs was a greatness
                Got from their grandsires--
                Theirs that so often in
                Strife with their enemies,
  Struck for their hoards and their hearths and their homes."

Two quotations appear under the toast of "Success to the Hull Literary

  "We rub each other's angles down."--_In Memoriam._

  "Work in noble brotherhood."--_Exhibition Ode._

With the toast of "Literature and the Arts" is the line:--

  "Let knowledge grow from more to more."

Under "The Press":--

  "News from the humming city comes to it."

The line under the toast of "The Ladies" is brief and graceful:--

  "Made to be loved."

Toasts and Toasting.

Toasting and drinking were more general half a century ago than they are
at the present time. In the earlier years of the Queen's reign temperance,
if not teetotalism, was, it is true, making headway, but in a great
measure convivial customs were maintained, and toasting was popular. Books
were published to supply suitable toasts, for public and private parties.
Such compilations must have been extremely useful to those who attended
social gatherings, and were not able to express graceful and pithy

We have before us a little work issued in London in 1847, under the title
of "The Social and Convivial Toast-Master; and Compendium of Sentiment."
It consists of prose and poetry arranged under various headings, such as
Loyal and Patriotic, Naval and Military, Masonic, Bacchanalian, Amatory,
Sporting, Political, Sentimental, and lastly, Miscellaneous. It cannot be
without interest to reproduce from this rare volume a few examples of the
toasts of the earlier Victorian era.

The opening section of the book is devoted to loyal and patriotic toasts.
The first toast is this:--

    "Albert and Victoria; may their union be cemented by love and
    affection, and their Royal offspring adorn the station they are
    destined to fill."

A brief and popular toast was:--

    "Church and Queen."

Another sentiment was:--

    "Happiness to the Royal pair--Victoria and Albert."

A longer toast is as follows:--

  "Here's a health to Her Majesty,
  Conversion to her enemies,
  And he that will not pledge her health
  I wish him neither wit nor wealth,
  Nor yet a rope to hang himself."

Another toast is to this effect:--

    "Health to the Queen, prosperity to the people, and may the Ministry
    direct their endeavours to the public good rather than engage in party

A favourite sentiment was:--

    "Great Britain's rising star, the Prince of Wales."

Many of the patriotic toasts ask for reforms:--

    "A revision of the code of criminal laws."

At this period they were extremely severe.

    "A speedy restoration of the rights of the people."

was another toast, and not a few related to Ireland.

    "Truth for England and justice for Ireland"

is one, and another says:--

    "The birthplace of wit, the home of hospitality--Ireland."

Patriotic toasts relating to Scotland are numerous, such as:--

    "Scotland, the birthplace of valour--the country of worth."

    "Scottish heroes; and may their fame live for ever."

A popular toast of the past was:--

    "The independence of Greece and the memory of Byron."

The dislike to France by our fathers is plainly indicated in several

    "May French principles never corrupt English manners."

It would appear from many of the toasts that the nation was weary of war
and wanted peace and liberty. The plea for liberty occurs in many of the
sentiments; it is the closing wish of the following:--

  "May peace o'er Britain spread her wing,
  And commerce fill her ports with gold;
  May arts and science comfort bring,
  And liberty her sons enfold."

The naval and military toasts, as befits a nation that has gained glory in
battles on sea and land, are on the whole good. A few examples only must
suffice. How out of date our first appears in this age of ironclads:--

    "Old England's wooden walls."

Here is a punning toast:--

    "Sir Home Popham--and pop-home to all our enemies."

A nautical toast is:--

  "To Nelson's memory here's a health,
    And to his gallant tars,
  And may our British seamen bold,
    Despite both wounds and scars,
  Make France and Spain,
    And all the main
    And all the foes to know,
  Britons reign o'er the main,
    While the stormy winds do blow."

Says another toast:--

    "May the deeds never be forgot that were done at Trafalgar and

Wellington is not neglected in the toasts, but he is not so popular as
Nelson. The feats of the Life Guards at Waterloo are remembered:--

    "The Life Guards: that washed out in blood the blots of Piccadilly."

Another famous regiment is thus toasted:--

    "The Scotch Greys: that made the Eagles look black."

Half a century ago was a toast which will find to-day a response in many

    "The Greeks: may they never fall under Turkish bondage."

Many of the masonic sentiments are fine; they are amongst the best in the
book. Here is good teaching:--

    "May we never condemn that in a brother which we pardon in ourselves."

    "May the evening's diversions bear the morning's reflections."

    "May every society instituted for the promotion of virtue--flourish."

Other toasts are equally good, but the masonic allusions make them more
suitable for the perusal of members of the craft than for the public.

Next in order come Bacchanalian toasts. Some of the sentiments would not
meet with favour in well regulated society at the present period, but we
doubt not were hailed with delight in the hard drinking days of old. The
first toast under this head is:--

    "A friend and a bottle of wine to give him."

Wine and women find a place in not a few of the sentiments:--

    "A full purse, a fresh bottle, and a pretty face."

    "Beauty, wit, and wine."

    "Wine, women, and wit."

The foregoing are brief, and are perhaps the best toasts which link women
with wine. The next is not a bad toast:--

    "May our love of the glass never make us forget decency."

Punning examples are included, such as the two following:--

    "May good fellows be found in every port, and all bad ones obliged to
    sherry out."

    "May we never be out of spirits."

On the whole, the toasts under this heading are not equal in merit to many
of the others in the volume.

We find amatory toasts next in order, and of this class quote three

    "The fairest work of nature--women."

    "The village maid, may she remain so till she gets a good husband."

    "Love without deceit, and matrimony without regret."

Sporting sentiments are by no means numerous; only four pages are devoted
to them. The following are specimens:--

    "May the thirst of blood never disgrace a British sportsman."

    "May the love of the chase never interrupt our attention to the
    welfare of the country."

    "The huntsman's pleasures--the field in the morning, the bottle at

Some are in rhyme, and the following is a favourable example:--

  "May jovial hunters in the morn
  Prepare them for the chase;
  Rise at the sounding of the horn,
  And health with sport enhance."

Under the heading of political toasts are a number free from party
sentiment, advocating more the glory of our country than the praise of a
particular party. We can quite understand how favourably a toast like the
following would be received:--

    "The British Lion, may he never rise in anger and sit down in fear."

The next is brief:--

    "Death or Liberty."

A popular toast is as follows:--

  "Here's to England, the ruler and queen of the waves,
  May she ever be found to give freedom to slaves.
  May she always extend to the weak and oppressed,
  Those blessings with which her own have been blessed.

Lastly, let us quote one that in our day might be taken to heart by those
in office:--

    "May Ministers while they are servants of the Crown never forget that
    they are representatives of the people."

Next in order come sentimental toasts. Examples of these may almost be
culled at random to represent the whole, for there is a great sameness
about them:--

    "May our great men be good and our good men great."

    "May goodness prevail where beauty fails."

    "May we never be lost to hope."

    "Our friends, our country, our laws, home, love, and liberty."

Two pages are devoted to flash toasts, but as far as we are able to judge
are without interest.

The work closes with a varied and interesting collection of toasts under
the heading of "Miscellaneous," and contains excellent examples of the wit
and wisdom of bygone times. The celebrated Roxburghe Club of book-lovers
was founded in 1812, and has given to the world many valuable volumes. The
social side of the society was well sustained, and the following are the
ten bibliomania toasts which were honoured at the festive gatherings:--

    1. "The immortal memory of Christopher Valdarfer, printer of the
    Boccaccio of 1471."

    2. "The memory of William Caxton, founder of the British Press."

    3. "To the memory of Wynkyn de Worde, Pynson, and Notary, successors
    of Caxton."

    4. "The memory of John, Duke of Roxburghe."

    5. "The memory of Lady Juliana Barnes and the St. Albans' Press."

    6. "The memory of Gutenberg, Fust, and Schoeffer, fathers of the art
    of printing."

    7. "The Aldine family of Venice."

    8. "The Giunti family of Florence."

    9. "The prosperity of the Roxburghe Club, and in all cases the cause
    of Bibliomania all over the world."

    10. "The Society of the Bibliophiles Français."

By-the-way, in St. Margaret's Church, Westminster, is a memorial to the
first English printer, bearing the following inscription:--

  "To the memory of
  William Caxton,
  Who first introduced into Great Britain
  The Art of Printing;
  And, who, A.D. 1477 or earlier, exercised that art in the
  Abbey of Westminster,
  This Tablet,
  In remembrance of one to whom the literature of this
  country is so largely indebted, was raised
  Anno Domini MDCCCXX
  By the Roxburghe Club.
  Earl Spencer, K.G., President."

Professional sentiments are rather plentiful. The surgeon's toast is:--

    "The man that bleeds for his country."

The schoolmaster's toasts are rather numerous, but not without point:--

  "Addition to patriots,
  Subtraction to placemen,
  Multiplication to the friends of peace,
  Division to its enemies,
  Reduction to abuses,
  Rule of three to king, lords, and commons,
  Practice to reformation,
  Fellowship to Britons,
  Discount to the National Debt,
  Decimal fractions to the clergy."

Toasts of musicians are included:--

    "May a crotchet in the head never bar the utterance of good notes."

A second sentiment is:--

    "May the lovers of harmony never be in want of a note, and its enemies
    die in a common chord."

Tradesmen's toasts are very plentiful, and several include puns. Here is
the hatter's sentiment:--

    "When the rogue naps it, may the lesson be felt."

Respecting the baker is the following:--

    "May we never be done so much as to make us crusty."

The glazier's toast is:--

    "The praiseworthy glazier who takes pains to see his way through

A rather longer toast is that of the greengrocer:--

    "May we spring up like vegetables, have turnip noses, reddish cheeks,
    and carroty hair--and may our hearts never be hard like those of
    cabbages, nor may we be rotten at the core."

The sentiment of the pawnbroker is:--

    "When we lend our cash to a friend, may it be to his interest to pay
    the principal, and his principle to pay the interest."

The shoemaker's toast is:--

    "May the cobbler's lapstones never fail him."

In another toast we have an allusion to shoes:--

    "May the enemies of Great Britain always have long corns and short

Here we close this curious collection of toasts, feeling thankful that
such a book is no longer required for the every-day use of the people. A
great change for the better has come over the manners and customs of our
countrymen. Turning over the pages of this publication has given us
pleasure, and we trust the quotations culled from it may not fail to
interest our readers.

Curious American Old-Time Gleanings.

"The only true history of a country," said Lord Macaulay, "is to be found
in its newspapers." Sir George Cornewall Lewis expressed his conviction
that the historian of the future will find all his materials in the
_Times_. The American historian Mr. Bancroft seldom saw a newspaper
without drawing from it materials for his works. The story-teller often
obtains from the daily and weekly press suggestive notes. Charles Reade
made excellent use of the romantic episodes recorded in the newspapers.
His scrapbooks containing clippings from the papers were numerous and
valuable, and amongst his most cherished treasures. Many modern men of
letters might be mentioned who are alive to the importance of preserving
facts drawn from the journals of the day.

Professor James Davie Butler, LL.D., a few years ago wrote an amusing and
at the same time a valuable paper on Scrap-books. He related how he had
corrected, through seeing in an old Connecticut newspaper an
advertisement, statements made by the leading historians of America. It
was respecting the horse of General Stark, a hero in the American War, who
broke Burgoyne's left wing. Headley says, "Stark's horse sank under him."
Everett states, "The General's horse was killed in the action." Irving
writes, "The veteran had his horse shot under him." They were led to make
the statement from a postscript of a letter the General wrote saying, "I
lost my horse in the action." Here is the advertisement referred to:--

    "TWENTY DOLLARS REWARD.--Stolen from me, the subscriber, in the time
    of action, the 16th of August last, a Brown Mare, five years old; had
    a star in her forehead. Also a doeskin seated saddle, blue housing
    trimmed with white, and a curbed bridle.--It is earnestly requested of
    all Committees of Safety, and others in authority, to exert themselves
    to recover the said Mare, so that the thief may be brought to justice
    and the Mare brought to me; and the person, whoever he be, shall
    receive the above reward for both; and for the Mare alone, one-half
    that sum. How scandalous, how disgraceful and ignominious, must it
    appear to all friendly and generous souls to have such sly, artful,
    designing villains enter into the field of action in order to pillage,
    pilfer, and plunder from their brethren when engaged in battle!


    Bennington, 11th Sept., 1777."

The foregoing may be regarded as a good proof of the value of historical
facts gleaned from newspapers.

In recent years several interesting works have been compiled from old
newspapers. Perhaps the most important is a set of volumes entitled "The
Olden Times Series," prepared by Mr. Henry M. Brooks, a painstaking
antiquary, and published in Boston, Massachusetts. Not the least
interesting of the volumes is one devoted to the _New England Sunday_. The
opening page proves that neither the rich nor the poor were permitted to
break the strict Sabbath regulations. In Connecticut, in 1789, General
Washington was stopped by the officer representing the State authorities
for riding on Sunday. The circumstances were reported in the columns of
the _Columbian Centinel_ for December of that year. "The President," it is
stated, "on his return to New York from his late tour through Connecticut,
having missed his way on Saturday, was obliged to ride a few miles on
Sunday, in order to gain the town, at which he had previously proposed to
attend divine service. Before he arrived, however, he was met by a
Tythingman, who, commanding him to stop, demanded the occasion of his
riding; and it was not until the President had informed him of every
circumstance, and promised to go no farther than the town intended, that
the Tythingman would permit him to proceed on his journey."

In the old days, little attempt was made to render the places of worship
attractive, or even to warm the rooms in which the preachers delivered
their long sermons, although the people were obliged by law to attend the
services unless they were sick. It was a serious matter not to be a
"meeting-goer," it was, as Mr. Brooks says, to be ranged with thieves and
other outlaws. Mr. Felt, the compiler of the _Annals of Salem_, has
brought together some items of interest bearing on the introduction of
stoves into the churches of the district. "For a long period," writes Mr.
Felt, "the people of our country did not consider that a comfortable
degree of warmth while at public worship contributed much to a profitable
hearing of the gospel." He states that the first stove heard of in
Massachusetts for a meeting-house was put up by the first Congregation of
Boston in 1773. Two stoves were placed in the Friends' Society
meeting-house at Salem in 1793, and one in the North Church, Salem in
1809. "Not a few remember," writes Mr. Brooks, "the general knocking of
feet on cold days and near the close of long sermons. On such occasions,
the Rev. Dr. Hopkins used to say now and then: 'My hearers, have a little
patience, and I will soon close.'"

One of Mr. Brook's volumes deals with _Strange and Curious Punishments_,
and it gives particulars of many harsh and cruel laws. It appears, from an
address delivered before the Essex Bar Association in 1885, that the
old-time punishments in America were much milder than the criminal laws of
England at the time, and the number of capital offences was greatly
reduced. Persons were frequently whipped. The following is an example
drawn from the Essex County Court Records: "In 1643, Roger Scott, for
repeated sleeping in meeting on the Lord's Day, and for striking the
person who waked him, was, at Salem, sentenced to be severely whipped."

Whipping appears to have been a common means of punishing offenders who
transgressed the laws. In the month of January, 1761, we see it stated
that four men for petty larceny were publicly whipped at the cart's tail
through the streets of New York. We gather from another newspaper report
that a man named Andrew Cayto received forty-nine stripes at the public
whipping-post for house-robbery--namely, for robbing one house,
thirty-nine stripes; and for robbing the other, ten stripes. It appears in
some instances prisoners had, as part of their sentence, to sit on the
gallows with ropes about their necks. We read: "At Ipswich, Massachusetts,
June 1763, one Francis Brown for stealing a large quantity of goods, was
found guilty; and it being the second conviction, he was sentenced by the
Court to sit on the gallows an hour with a rope round his neck, to be
whipt thirty stripes, and pay treble damages." The man was a native of
Lisbon, and described as a great thief. "We hear from Worcester," says the
_Boston Chronicle_, November 20th, 1769, "that on the 8th instant one
Lindsay stood in the pillory there one hour, after which he received
thirty stripes at the public whipping-post, and was then branded on the
hand; his crime was forgery." It appears that it was the custom to brand
by means of hot iron the letter F on the palm of the right hand.

We find that at this period persons found guilty of passing counterfeit
dollars were sentenced to have their ears cropped.

To illustrate his subject Mr. Brooks draws from Felt's _Annals of Salem_
not a few quaint items. It is stated that "in 1637, Dorothy Talby, for
beating her husband, is ordered to be bound to and chained to a post." It
is recorded that "in 1649 women were prosecuted in Salem for scolding,"
and probably in many cases whipped or ducked. The ducking-stool appears to
have been frequently employed. Under date of May 15th 1672, we find it
stated: "The General Court of Massachusetts orders that scolds and railers
shall be gagged or set in a ducking stool, and dipped over head and ears
three times."

We find particulars of one Philip Ratclif for making "hard speeches
against Salem Church, as well as the Government," sentenced to pay "forty
pounds, to be whipped, to have his ears cropped, and to be banished." The
date of this case is 1631. In the _Annals of Salem_, under date for May
3rd, 1669, it is recorded that "Thomas Maule is ordered to be whipped for
saying that Mr. Higgenson preached lies, and that his instruction was 'the
doctrine of devils.'"

The Quakers were very severely dealt with. At Salem, for making
disturbances in the meeting-house, etc., Josiah Southwick, Mrs. Wilson,
Mrs. Buffum, and other Quakers, were whipped at the cart's tail through
the town. After being banished, Southwick returned to Salem, and for this
offence was whipped through the towns of Boxton, Roxbury, and Dedham.

In bygone times, hanging the remains of persons executed was general in
England; in America it was an uncommon practice. Mr. Brooks, however,
gives particulars of a few instances. At Newport, Rhode Island, on March
12th, 1715, a man named Mecum, was executed for murder; and his body hung
in chains on Miantonomy Hill, where the bodies of some Indians executed
three years previously were then hanging. A negro hanged at Newport in
1769 was gibbetted on the same hill.

A few lighter passages than those we have studied brighten up the records
of American punishments, which were very severe. A prisoner in February,
1789, escaped through the jail chimney at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and
wrote on the wall as follows: "The reason of my going is because I have no
fire to comfort myself with, and very little provision. So I am sure if I
was to stay any longer I should perish to death. Look at that bed there!
Do you think it fit for any person to lie on?

  "If you are well, I am well;
  Mend the chimney, and all's well!"

To the gentlemen and officers of Portsmouth, from your humble servant,


"N.B.--I am very sorry that I did not think of this before, for if I had,
your people should not have had the pleasure of seeing me take the

_Curiosities of the Lottery_ is the title of another volume of Mr.
Brooks's "Olden Time Series." Selling lottery tickets was regarded as a
respectable calling. "The better the man," says Mr. Brooks, "the better
the agent. Indeed, it was generally thought to be just as respectable to
sell lottery tickets as to sell Bibles; and we have them classed together
in the same advertisement." In England, we must not forget the fact that
the business was conducted on the same lines in bygone times. The first
lottery in this country was drawn day and night at the west door of St.
Paul's Cathedral, London, from the 11th of January to May 6th, 1569. The
profit, which was considerable, was devoted to the repair of harbours. The
prizes consisted of pieces of plate.

In the United States, lotteries were instituted for a variety of objects,
including building bridges, cleaning rivers, rebuilding Faneuil Hall,
raising money to successfully carry on the work of Dartmouth College,
Harvard College, and other seats of learning. The advertisements were
extremely quaint, illustrated with crudely drawn but effective pictures,
and supplied "a speedy cure for a broken fortune." Rhymes as well as
pictures were largely employed in advertisements for lotteries. Much has
been spoken and written against lotteries; but, nevertheless, in some of
the States of the Union they are still lawful.

With a dip into a volume called _Days of the Spinning Wheel_, we bring our
old-time gleanings to a close. The items we cull relate to a trade once
very general in the United States, but happily now a thing of the past.
Advertisements similar to the following appeared in all the American
newspapers; not a few of the publishers took an active part in the trade
of buying and selling human beings. "To be sold," advertises the _Boston
Evening Gazette_, 1741, "by the printer of this paper, the very best negro
woman in this town, who has had the small pox and measles; is as hearty as
a horse, as brisk as a bird, and will work like a beaver." The same
publisher stated that he also had on sale "a negro man about thirty years
old, who can do both town and country business very well, but will suit
the country best, where they have not so many dram-shops as we have in
Boston. He has worked at the printing business fifteen or sixteen years;
can handle axe, saw, spade, hoe, or other instrument of husbandry as well
as most men, and values himself and is valued by others for his skill in

In the _Gazette_ of May 12, 1760, is offered for sale "a negro woman about
twenty-eight years of age; she is remarkably healthy and strong, and has
several other good qualities; and is offered for sale for no other reason
than her being of a furious temper, somewhat lazy. Smart discipline would
make her a very good servant. Any person minded to purchase may be further
informed by inquiring of the printer." It will be gathered from the
foregoing that the faults of the slaves were clearly stated.

Children were often given away; and many announcements like the following,
drawn from the _Postboy_, February 28, 1763, appeared:--"To be given away,
a male negro child of good breed, and in good health. Inquire of Green
and Russell."

Runaway slaves gave considerable trouble to their owners, and the papers
include numerous advertisements, details respecting appearance, speech,
dress, etc., of the missing persons. After describing his runaway slave,
the owner concluded his announcement thus: "All masters of vessels and
others are cautioned against harbouring, concealing, or carrying off the
said negro, if they would avoid the rigour of the law."

The Earliest American Poetess:

Anne Bradstreet.

To Northamptonshire belongs the honour of giving birth to the first woman
poet who produced a volume of poetry in America. Her name was Anne
Bradstreet. She was born in the year 1612. The place of her birth is not
absolutely certain. "There is little doubt," says Helen Campbell, the
author of "Anne Bradstreet, and Her Time," "that Northampton, England, was
the home of her father's family." At an early age she sailed with her
father, Thomas Dudley, to Massachusetts Bay, he being one of the earliest
settlers in New England. For some years he had been steward to the Earl of
Lincoln. He was a man of means, and belonged to a good family, claiming
kinship with the Dudleys and Sidneys of Penshurst. Literature had for him
many charms; he wrote poetry, and, says his daughter, he was a "magazine
of history." He left his native country and braved the perils of sea and
land to settle in a distant clime where he might worship God according to
his conscience. This stern, truth-speaking Puritan soon had his sterling
merits recognised, and held the governorship of Massachusetts from 1634 to
1650. He closed at the age of seventy-seven years a well-spent life. After
death, in his pocket were found some of his recently written verses. His
daughter Anne was a woman of active and refined mind, having acquired
considerable culture at a time when educational accomplishments were
possessed by few. She suffered much from ill-health; in her girlhood she
was stricken with small pox, and was also lame. Her many trials cast a
tinge of sadness over her life and writings.

She grew up to be a winsome woman, gaining esteem from the leading people
of her adopted country, and her fame as a writer of poetry reached the
land of her nativity.

She married, in 1629, Simon Bradstreet, Secretary, and afterwards
Governor, of the Colony.

Her first volume, published at Boston in 1640, was dedicated to her
father. The title is very long, and is as follows: "Several Poems,
compiled with great variety of wit and learning, full of delight, wherein
especially is contained a Complete Discourse and Description of the Four
Elements, Constitutions, Ages of Man, and Seasons of the Year; together
with an exact Epitome of the Three First Monarchies, viz.: the Assyrian,
Persian, and Grecian, and the Beginning of the Roman Commonwealth to the
end of their last King; with divers other pleasant and serious Poems. By a
Gentlewoman of New England." The book met with much favour, and soon
passed into a second edition. In the third edition, issued in 1658, her
character is thus sketched: "It is the work of a woman honoured and
esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanour, her eminent parts,
her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligence in
her place, and discreet management of her family occasions; and more so,
these poems are the fruits of a few hours curtailed from her sleep, and
other refreshments." The work was reprinted and published in London in
1650, with the high-sounding title of "The Tenth Muse, lately sprung up in
America." Compared with much that was written in the age in which she
lived, her poetry is entitled to a foremost rank, but it is not
sufficiently good to gain for it a lasting place in literature. It mainly
attracts attention in our time as being the first collection of poetry
published in America.

Professor Charles F. Richardson, one of the soundest American critics,
speaks of some of the poems as by "no means devoid of merit, though
disfigured by a paucity of words and stiffness of style." The estimable
writer of this volume won words of praise from her leading countrymen.
President Rogers, of Harvard College, himself a poet, thus addressed

  "Madam, twice through the Muses's grove I walked
  Under your blissful bowers--
  Twice have I drunk the nectar of your lines."

All her critics were not so complimentary as President Rogers. Some did
not think that a woman had a right to produce poetry and to such she
adverts in the following lines:--

  "I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
    Who says my hand a needle better fits,
  A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong,
    For such despite they cast on female wits:
  If what I do prove well, it won't advance;
    They'll say it's stol'n, or else it was by chance."

Here are four lines on "The Vanity of all Worldly Things," which, give a
favourable example of her poetic power:--

  "As he said vanity, so vain say I,
  Oh vanity, O vain all under sky;
  Where is man can say, lo! I have found
  On brittle earth a consolation sound?"

The next specimen of her poetry is an "Elegy on a Grandchild":--

  "Farewell, sweet babe, the pleasure of mine eye;
  Farewell, fair flower, that for a space was lent,
  Then ta'en away into eternity.
  Blest Babe, why should I once bewail thy fate,
  Or sigh the days so soon were terminate,
  Sith thou art settled in an everlasting state?"

  "By nature trees do rot when they are grown,
  And plums and apples thoroughly ripe do fall,
  And corn and grass are in their season mown,
  And time brings down what is both strong and tall;
  But plants new set to be eradicate,
  And buds new-bloom to have so short a date,
  'Tis by His hand alone that nature guides, and fate."

The lines which follow were written in the prospect of death, and
addressed to her husband:--

  "How soon, my dear, death may my steps attend,
  How soon 't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
  We both are ignorant. Yet love bids me
  These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
  That, when that knot's untied that made us one
  I may seem thine, who in effect am none.

  "And, if I see not half my days that's due,
  What Nature would God grant to yours and you.
  The many faults that well you know I have,
  Let be interred in my oblivious grave;
  If any virtue is in me,
  Let that live freshly in my memory;
  And when thou feel'st no griefs, as I no harms,
  Yet live thy dead, who long lay in thine arms;
  And, when thy loss shall be repaid with gains,
  Look to my little babes, my dear remains,
  And, if thou lov'st thyself or lovest me,
  These, oh protect from step-dame's injury!
  And, if chance to thine eyes doth bring this verse,
  With some sighs honour my absent hearse,
  And kiss this paper, for thy love's dear sake,
  Who with salt tears this last farewell doth take."

In the year 1666, her house at Andover was consumed by fire, and her
letters and papers destroyed, which put an end to one of her literary
projects. Six years later she died, at the age of sixty years. It is said
of her by an American author: "Her numbers are seldom correct, and her ear
had little of Milton's tenderness or Shakespeare's grace; yet she was the
contemporary of England's greatest poets, the offspring of that age of
melody which had begun with Spenser and Sidney, an echo, from the distant
wilderness of the period of universal song." Several of her descendants
are amongst the most gifted of American poets; they include Channing,
Dana, Holmes, and others. Her husband nearly reached the age of a hundred
years, and was termed "the Nestor of New England."

A Playful Poet:

Miss Catherine Fanshawe.

Several lasting contributions were made to poetical literature by Miss
Catherine Maria Fanshawe. In the literary and artistic circles of London
in the closing years of the last century, and for more than three decades
of the present century she was popular.

Miss Fanshawe was born in 1775, and came of a good old English family. At
an early age she displayed literary gifts full of promise. The following
sonnet, written at the age of fourteen and addressed to her mother, has
perhaps not been excelled by any youthful writer:--

  "Oh thou! who still by piercing woe pursued,
    Alone and pensive, pour'st thy sorrows here,
  Forgive, if on thy griefs I dare intrude
    To wipe from thy lov'd cheek the falling tear.
  Dear mourner, think!--thy son will weep no more;
    His life was spotless, and his death was mild,
  And, when this vain delusive life is o'er,
    He'll shine a seraph, whom thou lost a child.
  Then, as we bend before th' eternal throne,
    Oh may'st thou, with exulting accents boast,
  'Now shall my children ever be my own,
    For none of those thou gavest me are lost.'
  With rapture then thou'lt meet th' angelic boy,
    And she who sow'd in tears shall meet in joy."

  _August, 1789._

A long playful poem composed at the age of sixteen, was addressed to the
Earl of Harcourt, on his wishing to spell her name, Catherine, with a K.
It displays much erudition, but it is too long to quote in full. We give a
few of the lines pleading for the letter C:--

  "And can his antiquarian eyes,
  My Anglo-Saxon C despise?
  And does Lord Harcourt day by day,
  Regret the extinct initial K?
  And still with ardour unabated,
  Labour to get it reinstated?
  I know, my lord, your generous passion,
  For every long exploded fashion;
  And own the Catherine you delight in,
  Looks irresistibly inviting,
  Appears to bear the stamp and mark,
  Of English used in Noah's Ark;
  'But all that glitters is not gold,'
  Not all things obsolete are old.
  Would you but take the pains to look,
  In Dr. Johnson's quarto book
  (As I did, wishing much to see,
  Th' aforesaid letter's pedigree),
  Believe me, 'twould a tale unfold,
  Would make your Norman blood run cold;
  My lord, you'll find the K's no better,
  Than an interpolated letter;
  A wand'ring Greek, a franchis'd alien,
  Derived from Cadmus or Deucalion;
  And why, or wherefore, none can tell,
  Inserted 'twixt the J and L.
  The learnèd say, our English tongue
  On Gothic beams is built and hung.
  Then why the solid fabric piece,
  With motley ornaments from Greece?
  Her lettered despots had no bowels,
  For northern consonants and vowels;
  The Roman and the Greek grammarian
  Deem'd us, and all our words barbarian;
  'Till those hard words, and harder blows,
  Had silenced all our haughty foes;
  And proud they were to kiss the sandals
  (Shoes we had none) of Goths and Vandals."

She wrote a satire on William Cobbett, M.P., for Oldham, which was
extremely popular amongst politicians at the period it was penned. This is
not surprising, for it contains some most amusing lines. It is entitled
"The Speech of the Member for Odium."

In the lighter vein she produced some verses in imitation of the poetry of

  "There is a river clear and fair,
  'Tis neither broad nor narrow;
  It winds a little here and there,
  It winds about like any hare;
  And then it takes as straight a course
  As on the turnpike road a horse,
    Or through the air an arrow.

  The trees that grow upon the shore,
  Have grown a hundred years or more,
    So long, there is no knowing.
  Old Daniel Dobson does not know,
  When first these trees began to grow;
  But still they grew, and grew, and grew,
  As if they'd nothing else to do,
    But ever to be growing.

  The impulses of air and sky
  Have reared their stately stems so high,
    And clothed their boughs with green;
  Their leaves the dews of evening quaff,--
    And when the wind blows loud and keen,
  I've seen the jolly timbers laugh,
    And shake their sides with merry glee--
    Wagging their heads in mockery.

  Fix'd are their feet in solid earth,
    Where winds can never blow;
  But visitings of deeper birth
    Have reached their roots below.
  For they have gained the river's brink,
  And of the living waters drink.

  There's little Will, a five year's child--
    He is my youngest boy;
  To look on eyes so fair and wild,
    It is a very joy:--
  He hath conversed with sun and shower,
  And dwelt with every idle flower,
    As fresh and gay as them.
  He loiters with the briar rose,
  The blue-bells are his play-fellows,
    That dance upon their slender stem.

  And I have said, my little Will
  Why should not he continue still
    A thing of Nature's rearing?
  A thing beyond the world's control--
  A living vegetable soul,--
    No human sorrow fearing.

  It were a blessed sight to see
  That child become a willow tree,
    His brother trees among.
  He'd be four time as tall as me,
    And live three times as long."

It was related by the Rev. William Harness, who did much to make known the
merits of Miss Fanshawe's works, that when the foregoing lines were read
to a distinguished admirer of Wordsworth's poetry, she thought them
beautiful, and wondered why the poet had never shown them to her!

Miss Fanshawe's fame rests on the authorship of the celebrated riddle on
the letter H, which has frequently been attributed to Byron, and appeared
in more than one edition of his poems. At a party held one evening at the
house of her friend, Mr. Hope, of Deep Dene, the conversation turned upon
the abuse of the aspirate. After the guests had withdrawn, Miss Fanshawe
retired to her room and composed her noted poem. Next morning she read it
at the breakfast table, much to the surprise and delight of the company.
It is as follows:--

  "'Twas in heaven pronounced, and 'twas muttered in hell,
  And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell;
  On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest,
  And the depths of the ocean its presence confest.
  'Twill be found in the sphere, when 'tis riven asunder,
  Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder.
  'Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath,
  Attends at his birth, and awaits him in death,
  Presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health,
  Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth.
  In the heaps of the miser 'tis hoarded with care,
  But is sure to be lost on his prodigal heir,
  It begins every hope, every wish it must bound,
  With the husbandman toils, and with monarchs is crown'd,
  Without it the soldier, the seaman may roam,
  But woe to the wretch who expels it from home!
  In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found,
  Nor e'en in the whirlpool of passion be drown'd,
  'Twill not soften the heart; but though deaf to the ear,
  It will make it acutely and instantly hear.
  Yet in shade let it rest like a delicate flower,
  Ah, breathe on it softly--it dies in an hour.

Some other riddles and charades appear in her collected poems, but none
are of equal merit to the riddle on the letter H.

Our next example bears the title of an "Ode":--

  "Lo! where the gaily vestur'd throng,
    Fair learning's train, are seen,
  Wedg'd in close ranks her walls along,
    And up her benches green.[2]
  Unfolded to their mental eye
  Thy awful form, Sublimity!
  The moral teacher shows--
  Sublimity of Silence born,
  And Solitude 'mid caves forlorn
  And dimly vision'd woes;
  Or Stedfast Worth, that inly great
  Mocks the malignity of faith.
  While whisper'd pleasure's dulcet sound
  Murmurs the crowded room around,
  And Wisdom, borne on Fashion's pinions,
  Exulting hails her new dominions.
  Oh! both on me your influence shed,
  Dwell in my heart and deck my head!

  Where'er a broader, browner shade
  The shaggy beaver throws,
  And with the ample feather's aid
    O'er canopies the nose;
  Where'er with smooth and silken pile,
  Ling'ring in solemn pause awhile,
    The crimson velvet glows;
  From some high benches giddy brink,
  Clinton with me begins to think
    (As bolt upright we sit)
  That dress, like dogs, should have its day,
  That beavers are too hot for May,
    And velvets quite unfit.

  Then taste, in maxims sweet, I draw
    From her unerring lip;
  How light, how simple are the straw,
    How delicate the chip!
  Hush'd is the speaker's powerful voice,
    The audience melt away,
  I fly to fix my final choice
    And bless th' instructive day.

  The milliner officious pours
  Of hats and caps her ready stores,
    The unbought elegance of spring;
  Some wide, disclose the full round face,
  Some shadowy, lend a modest grace
    And stretch their sheltering wing.

  Here clustering grapes appear to shed
  Their luscious juices on the head,
    And cheat the longing eye;
  So round the Phrygian monarch hung
  Fair fruits that from his parchèd tongue
    For ever seem'd to fly.

  Here early blooms the summer rose;
  Her ribbons wreathe fantastic bows;
  Here plays gay plumage of a thousand dyes--
  Visions of beauty, spare my aching eyes!
  Ye cumbrous fashions, crowd not on my head!
    Mine be the chip of purest white,
    Swan-like, and as her feathers light
  When on the still wave spread;
  And let it wear the graceful dress,
  Of unadornèd simpleness.

  Ah! frugal wish; ah! pleasing thought;
    Ah! hope indulged in vain;
  Of modest fancy chiefly bought
    A stranger yet to Payne.[3]
  With undissembled grief I tell,--
    For sorrow never comes too late,--
  The simplest bonnet in Pall Mall
    Is sold for £1 8_s._

  To Calculation's sober view,
    That searches ev'ry plan,
  Who keep the old, or buy the new,
    Shall end where they began.

  Alike the shabby and the gay
  Must meet the sun's meridian ray;
    The air, the dust, the damp.
  This, shall the sudden shower despoil;
  That slow decay by gradual soil;
    Those, envious boxes cramp.
  Who will, their squander'd gold may pay;
    Who will, our taste deride;
  We'll scorn the fashion of the day
    With philosophic pride.

  Methinks we thus, in accents low,
    Might Sydney Smith address,
  'Poor moralist! and what art thou,
    Who never spoke of dress!'

  'Thy mental hero never hung
  Suspended on a tailor's tongue,
    In agonising doubt;
  Thy tale no flutt'ring female show'd,
  Who languish'd for the newest mode,
    Yet dar'd to live without.'"

In Miss Mary Russell Mitford's "Recollections of a Literary Life" are some
genial allusions to Miss Fanshawe. "Besides," wrote Miss Mitford, "her
remarkable talent for graceful and polished pleasantry, whether in prose
or verse, Miss Catherine Fanshawe was admirable as a letter-writer, and as
a designer in almost every style." Her drawings and etchings met with
praise from those capable of judging their merits.

After Miss Fanshawe's death, in 1834, her friend, the Rev. William
Harness, printed for private circulation a small collection of her poems,
expressing his wish "that some enduring memorial may exist of one who, in
her varied accomplishments, her acute perception of the beautiful, her
playful fancy, her charming conversation, her gentle and retiring manners,
her lively sympathy with the sorrows and joys of others, and above all,
her simple piety, was so cherished a member of a society, not very
extended but intimately united by a common love of literature, and art,
and science, which existed in London at the close of the last and the
opening of the present century, and which, perhaps, taken for all in all,
has never been surpassed." In 1876, Mr. Basil Montagu Pickering issued
"The Literary Remains of Catherine Maria Fanshawe," with notes by the
Rev. William Harness. Doubtless his admiration of the productions of the
author prompted him to publish the volume. Only two hundred and fifty
copies were printed. Mr. Pickering is entitled to the gratitude of lovers
of choice poetry for publishing the charming volume.

A Popular Song Writer:

Mrs. John Hunter.

The name of Mrs. John Hunter stands high on the roll of English song
writers. She is one of the most gifted women in her particular literary
field Hull has produced, and it is most remarkable that she is not noticed
in any local work devoted to history or biography. Her maiden name was
Anne Home, and she was the eldest daughter of Robert Home, of Greenlaw,
Berwickshire, surgeon of Burgoyne's Regiment of Light Horse, and
subsequently a physician in Savoy. He greatly displeased his parents by
marrying at an early age, and on this account they declined to assist him
in the outset of his professional career. He proceeded to Hull, and
practised as a surgeon. In the year 1742, Anne, his eldest daughter, was
born. She received a liberal education, and at an early age displayed
considerable poetical gifts. Her early work found its way into the
periodicals, and in one entitled the _Lark_, published at Edinburgh, at
the age of twenty-three years, she contributed her well-known song, "The
Flowers of the Forest," and a song we quote as a specimen of her style:--

  "Adieu, ye streams that smoothly glide
    Through mazy windings o'er the plain;
  I'll in some lonely cave reside,
    And ever mourn my faithful swain.

  Flower of the forest was my love,
    Soft as the sighing summer's gale;
  Gentle and constant as the dove,
    Blooming as roses in the vale.

  Alas! by Tweed my love did stray,
    For me he searched the banks around;
  But, ah! the sad and fatal day,
    My love, the pride of swains, was drown'd.

  Now droops the willow o'er the stream;
    Pale stalks his ghost in yonder grove;
  Dire fancy paints him in my dream;
    Awake I mourn my hopeless love."

Such is one of her many songs, several of which were set to music by
Haydn. Her best known song is, perhaps, "My Mother bids me bind my

  "My mother bids me bind my hair
    With bands of rosy hue,
  Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare,
    And lace my bodice blue.

  "For why," she cries, "sit still and weep,
    While others dance and play?"
  Alas! I scarce can go or creep
    While Lubin is away.

  'Tis sad to think the days are gone
    When those we love were near;
  I sit upon this mossy stone,
    And sigh when none can hear.

  And while I spin my flaxen thread,
    And sing my simple lay,
  The village seems asleep or dead
    Now Lubin is away."

In July, 1771, Miss Home was married to John Hunter, the famous anatomist,
who step by step rose from the bench of a cabinet-maker to one of the
highest positions in the medical profession. He was a native of Long
Calderwood, Kilbride parish, Lanarkshire. After working some time as a
cabinet-maker, he proceeded to London, and obtained an appointment as an
anatomical assistant. He was student at Chelsea Hospital in 1748, a year
later undertook the charge of the dissecting room, and in the same year
entered St. Mary's Hall, Oxford, as a gentleman commoner. He did not
remain there very long. In 1750 he was a surgeon-pupil at St. George's
Hospital. His brother made his mark in London as a surgeon, and John
joined him as lecturer in 1754. Ten years' toil in the dissecting room
broke down his health. With a view of obtaining a change of work and
climate, he joined the army, and in 1761 was made staff-surgeon. He was at
the siege of Belle Isle in his first year, and was afterwards with the
army in Portugal. He returned home in 1763, and commenced practising as a
surgeon. He read many able papers before the members of the Royal Society;
in 1767, he was elected a fellow of that distinguished body. In 1787 he
was awarded the Copleyan gold medal. He wrote some important medical
works. His death was sudden, and occurred in the Board-room of St.
George's Hospital, on the 16th October, 1793, at the age of 64 years. His
father died when he was ten years of age, and his early education was
neglected. At the age of twenty he could simply read and write, knowing no
other language than his own. He was most diligent. His museum contained
10,563 specimens and preparations illustrative of human and comparative
anatomy, physiology, pathology, and natural history. It was two years
after his death purchased by the Government for £15,000, and presented to
the Royal College of Surgeons. Dr. Hunter won fame but not wealth, and
died a comparatively poor man. In marriage he was most fortunate; his
wife had a beautiful face, and handsome person. She entertained the
doctor's guests with delightful conversation, and her amiability and
simple manners endeared her to all with whom she came in contact, many of
whom were men of world-wide reputation. Some of Mrs. Hunter's friends did
not always meet with the approval of her husband. The following story is
well known, but will bear repeating:--"On returning home late one evening,
after a hard day's fag, Hunter unexpectedly found his drawing-room filled
with musical professors, connoisseurs, and other idlers, whom Mrs. Hunter
had assembled. He was greatly irritated, and walking straight into the
room, addressed the astonished guests pretty much in the following strain:
'I know nothing of this kick-up, and I ought to have been informed of it
beforehand; but as I am now returned home to study, I hope the present
company will retire.' This intimation was, of course, speedily followed by
an _exeunt omnes_." Mrs. Hunter was both a skilful musician and a graceful
singer. The greater part of her poetry displays much sweetness of
expression and force. A volume of her poems was issued in 1802, and
attracted much favourable notice.

Mrs. Hunter wrote the following epitaph for a monument to her husband to
be placed in St. Martin's Church, London, where he was buried. The then
rector of the parish, however, stated it was contrary to the rules to have
any memorial placed in the church:--

  "Here rests in awful silence, cold and still,
    One whom no common spark of genius fir'd;
  Whose reach of thought Nature alone could fill,
    Whose deep research the love of truth inspired.

  Hunter, if years of toil and watchful care,
    If the vast labours of a pow'rful mind
  To soothe the ills humanity must share,
    Deserve the grateful plaudits of mankind.

  Then to each human weakness buried here
    Envy would raise, to dim a name so bright,
  Those specks which on the orb of day appear,
    Take nothing from his warm and welcome light."

In the year 1860, the remains of John Hunter were removed from the church
of St. Martin-in-the-Fields and placed in Westminster Abbey, to rest with
the dust of England's most famous sons. The Council of the Royal College
of Surgeons erected a tablet bearing a suitable inscription.

Mrs. Hunter retired from society after the death of her husband, and found
much enjoyment in literature. She had two children, a son and a daughter.
On the 7th January, 1821, she died in London after a lingering illness,
being nearly eighty years of age. Her name will long remain, and recall
the life of one who added several popular songs to our literature. In
popular anthologies her productions usually find a place.

A Poet of the Poor:

Mary Pyper.

Scotland is a land of song. It has been the birthplace of many poets who
have added glory to our literary annals. Its list of authors includes the
names of a large number of men and women in the humbler walks of life, who
took up literature under difficulties, and won honourable places in the
world of letters. Burns at the plough, Hogg tending his sheep on the
hillside, Hugh Miller in the quarry, Allan Cunningham with chisel in hand,
William Thom and Robert Tannahill at the shuttle, and Janet Hamilton in
her humble home are familiar figures to every reader of Scottish

Amongst the lesser known names is that of Mary Pyper, who, under severe
trials, read a great deal and produced poems of considerable merit for a
self-taught writer. She was born at Greenock, on the 27th of May, 1795.
Her father was a clockmaker, named Alexander Pyper, who had married a
worthy woman, Isabella Andrews, both of whom were natives of Edinburgh.
Failing to obtain regular employment in their native city, the parents of
our heroine moved westwards in search of work. Mary Pyper, in an
autobiographical letter, addressed to the Rev. Charles Rogers, LL.D.,
states that "her father enlisted in the 42nd Highlanders on account of
failing to find employment." Says Mr. D. H. Edwards, in his _Modern
Scottish Poets_, "it was a time of war when recruits were often made in an
unscrupulous manner, and one day Alexander Pyper found a shilling in his
pocket, and was told to his astonishment that he had enlisted in His
Majesty's service." His regiment, shortly after he joined it, received
orders to march from Perth across the Sheriffmuir, a distance of sixteen
miles. Poor Mrs. Pyper walked, carrying her infant in her arms, the rain
coming down in torrents. After a weary tramp the poor mother sat down
nearly broken-hearted, fearing that her baby had perished. On the arrival
of the baggage carts, warm clothing and other necessaries were procured,
and happily the child began to revive.

The regiment subsequently proceeded to Ireland. Pyper, on leaving Dublin
for England, stumbled and fractured his leg. The accident rendered him
unfit for active service, and he was discharged. He did not long survive,
and at the age of six months, Mary Pyper was left fatherless.

Her mother then returned to her native city. Here she had to struggle for
bread, gaining a scanty living as a boot-binder. She devoted much time to
the education of her child, who proved an apt scholar. Mother and daughter
delighted in the study of history, but Mary's chief pleasure was derived
from the works of the poets. She was familiar with the poetry of
Shakespeare, Milton, Scott, Cowper, and other celebrated authors. As a
child she was puny; she was always little, and might be called a dwarf. In
her early years she suffered much from ill-health. She was troubled with
jaundice, and on three occasions had severe attacks of fever, each lasting
from six to eight weeks. Her mother, too, was often sick, and when other
children of her age were enjoying childish games Mary Pyper was busy with
her needle helping to add to the slender income of her mother.

After being confined to her bed for six years, Mrs. Pyper died on the 27th
of March, 1827. It was during the attendance on her mother that Mary first
thought of composing verses. The poor woman had been obliged to run into
debt to the extent of £9. This amount was paid by her daughter out of her
wages of six shillings per week, obtained from a shop-keeper who employed
her to make buttons and fringes. Hoping to earn more, she left her
situation, and obtained a small basket containing fancy goods, which she
hawked for sale, but this did not prove a satisfactory means of making a
living. It was uncertain, and the walking fatiguing. In later years she
had a continual struggle, and met with numerous misfortunes. Writing to
Dr. Rogers, in 1860, she said: "As I was working in our church-school, I
fell and broke my arm, some ten years since. Eight months after this, I
was painting my house and, over-reaching myself, ricked my back, and the
year before I fell on the frost and severely hurt my head." Kind friends
helped to lighten her troubles, which she bore with Christian fortitude.

A small volume of her poems was published in 1860, mainly through the
assistance of Mr. T. Constable. The work met with a favourable reception,
and a couple of the hymns were reproduced in the pages of _Lyra
Britannica_. Mr. Henry Wright, the compiler of the work entitled _Lays of
Pious Minstrels_, includes in it examples of Mary Pyper's poetry. In the
preface to his volume he wrote: "The attention of my readers is especially
directed to the pieces 'Let me go,' 'Servant of God,' and 'We shall see
Him as He is,' the composition of Miss Mary Pyper, a resident in one of
the closes or alleys in the Old Town of Edinburgh, who is in extreme old
age, quite alone in the world, totally blind, and in deep poverty. Since
the notice of Miss Pyper appeared in the last edition of this work, many
benevolent persons have sent me donations for her in postage stamps, and
otherwise. I shall be glad to be the medium of alleviating in any degree
the very painful circumstances in which she is placed." It will be seen
from the foregoing that in addition to other afflictions she lost her
eyesight in her old age.

We give a few specimens of her verses, which are chiefly of a religious
and devotional character. The first poem is entitled "The Christian's View
of Death":

  "Let me go! the Day is breaking
    Morning bursts upon mine eye,
  Death this mortal frame is shaking,
    But the soul can never die!

  Let me go! the Day-Star, beaming,
    Gilds the radiant realms above;
  Its full glory on me streaming,
    Lights me to the Land of Love."

The last stanzas of her "Servant of God" are as follow:--

  "There Flowers immortal bloom
    To charm the ravished sight;
  And palms and harps await for those
    Who walk with Him in white.

  For they shall sing the song
    Of Moses, long foretold,
  When they have passed those pearly gates
    And streets of burnished gold.

  The glories of the Lamb
    Their rapturous strains shall raise--
  Eternal ages shall record
    His love, His power, His praise."

The following are the concluding lines of "We shall see Him as He is":--

  "When we pass o'er death's dark river
    We shall see Him as He is--
  Resting in His love and favour
    Owning all the glory His;
  There to cast our crowns before Him--
    Oh! what bliss the thought affords!
  There for ever to adore Him--
    King of Kings and Lord of Lords."

One of her best hymns is entitled "What has Jesus done?" The little gem we
next reproduce is perhaps her best known production. It has been widely
quoted and much admired:--


  "I came at morn--'twas Spring, I smiled,
    The fields with green were clad;
  I walked abroad at noon, and lo!
    'Twas summer--I was glad.
  I sate me down--'twas autumn eve,
    And I with sadness wept;
  I laid me down at night--and then
    'Twas winter--and I slept."

The following poem is a fair specimen of her poetic power:--


  "Come, sit beside my couch of death,
    With that fair summer flower,
  That I may taste its balmy breath
    Before my final hour.
  The lily's virgin purity,
    The rose's rich perfume,
  Speak with a thrilling voice to me,
    Preparing for the tomb.

  "Each calls to mind sweet Sharon's rose,
    The lily of the vale--
  The white and stainless robes of those
    Who conquer and prevail.
  For as it droops its modest head,
    Methinks it seems to say:
  'All flesh, like me, must quickly fade,
    Must wither and decay!'

  "And yet it tells of fairer skies,
    And happier lands than this,
  Where beauteous flowers immortal vie,
    And plants of Paradise:
  A land where blooms eternal spring--
    Where every storm is past;
  Fain would my weary spirit wing
    Its way--and be at rest.--

  "But hark, I hear a choral strain--
    It comes from worlds above,
  It speaks of my release from pain,
    Of rest--in Jesus' love!
  Jesus, my hope, my help, my stay,
    My all in earth or heaven,
  Let thy blest mandate only say,
    'Thy sins are all forgiven!'

  "Then will I plume my joyful wing
    To those blest realms of peace,
  Where saints and angels ever sing,
    And sorrows ever cease.
  Dear mother, dry thy tearful eye,
    And weep no more for me,
  The orphan's God that reigns on high
    The widow's God shall be.

  "Pull me a sprig of that white flower,
    And place it on my breast,
  The last effect of friendship's power
    Shall charm my heart to rest.
  Then, Lord, let me depart from pain
    To realms where glories dwell,
  Where I may meet those friends again,
    And say no more 'farewell!'"

Her first book did not yield much pecuniary profit. In 1865 a larger
volume of her poetry was published by Mr. Andrew Elliot, of Edinburgh.
Her valued friend, Miss Moncrieff, prefaced it with a biographical sketch,
and Dean Ramsay wrote an introduction. He described her poems as being of
"no common excellence, both in diction and sentiment." The book also
contains a portrait of the author. Through the kindly interest of the
publisher the work proved extremely successful, and the proceeds of the
sale became her chief support in her old age, when unable to work through
feeble health and blindness. She enjoyed many comforts, thanks to the help
of Miss M. A. Scott Moncrieff, Mr. Andrew Elliot, and other warm-hearted

She died in 1870, having reached more than the allotted three score years
and ten, and was interred in the historic burial ground of Greyfriars'
Church, Edinburgh. Her last resting-place was for some years without any
monumental stone, but mainly through the exertions of Dr. Rogers, in May,
1885, a handsome cross was erected over her remains, simply bearing her
name, "Mary Pyper."

The Poet of the Fisher-Folk:

Mrs. Susan K. Phillips.

  "The poet's little span is done,
  The poet's work on earth goes on;
  The hand that strikes the ringing chords,
  The thought that clothes itself in words,
  That chimes with every varying mood,
  That gives a friend to solitude,
  In flash or fire, in smiles or tears,
  Wakes echoes for all coming years."
                                  SUSAN K. PHILLIPS.

From the days of Cædmon, the first and greatest of the Anglo-Saxon poets,
to the present time, Yorkshire has produced many singers of power, whose
poetry has been read and appreciated far beyond the limits of England's
largest county. The lovely scenery, romantic legends, old-world tales, and
noble lives of its sons and daughters have had a marked influence on the
writings of its poets. We recognise this in the best work of Mr. Alfred
Austin, our present Poet Laureate, the sisters Brontë, Ebenezer Elliott,
the Corn Law Rhymer, and in a marked degree in Mrs. Susan K. Phillips,
whose well-spent life has just closed, and whose contributions to
literature have gained for her an honourable place amongst the authors of
the Victorian era. In the realm of poetry devoted to the joys and sorrows
of the fisher-folk, she has not been equalled.

How true are the words of Sir Henry Taylor, "The world knows nothing of
its greatest men," and we may add, less, if possible, of its greatest
women. Men have a better opportunity of becoming known, and their works
appreciated, than women, for men take a more active part in public affairs
which bring them in closer touch with the people. As a rule women are of a
more retiring disposition, and the result is that their merits are not so
readily recognised as those of men, yet their works are often more
ennobling and lasting.

Mrs. Phillips' best poems deal with various incidents in the lives of the
fisher-folk of the Yorkshire coast. She was a frequent visitor to Whitby,
and was beloved by the rough, but kind-hearted, fishermen. She was a true
friend to them in their time of sorrow, and in the hard lot of those who
are engaged on the perilous waters of the North Sea.

Before giving examples of the poetry of Mrs. Phillips, it may be well to
present a few details of her life. She was born in 1831 at Aldborough,
the _Isurium_ of the Romans, a village of great antiquity, not far distant
from Boroughbridge. Her father, the Rev. George Kelly Holdsworth, M.A.,
was vicar of the parish.

In 1856 she was married to Mr. H. Wyndham Phillips, a celebrated artist,
who has been dead some years. Mrs. Phillips resided for many years at
Green Royd, Ripon, but usually spent the summer months at Whitby.

In 1865 her first volume of poetry appeared under the title of "Verses and
Ballads," and the welcome given to it induced her to issue, five years
later, "Yorkshire Songs and Ballads." A still more important volume was
given to the world in 1878, from the well-known house of Messrs. Macmillan
& Co., entitled, "On the Seaboard." The critical press were not slow to
recognise the sterling merits of this book, which soon passed into a
second edition. On this work the reputation of Mrs. Phillips mainly rests.
Some of the poems had previously appeared in the pages of _Macmillan's
Magazine_, _All the Year Round_, _Cassell's Magazine_, and other leading
periodicals. They had been widely quoted in the press on both sides of the
Atlantic. "These poems," said the reviewer, in a leading London daily,
"suggest a recollection of Charles Kingsley, but the writer has a voice
and song of her own, which is full of yearning pathetic sweetness, and a
loving human sympathy with the anxious homes of the poor toiler of the
sea. The poems evince a true simplicity of style which is only another
word for sincerity." It was stated by another critic that "This volume of
verses stands out in bright relief from the average poetry of the day. All
is pure, womanly, in a setting of most graceful and melodious verse."
Other notices were equally good. In 1884, Messrs. J. S. Fletcher & Co.,
Leeds, published "Told in a Coble, and other Poems." Many of those
relating to Whitby were warmly welcomed, and added not a little to her
fame. This is her last volume of collected poems, but not a few have since
been written and printed in the periodicals, and might, with advantage to
the world of letters, be collected, and reappear in book form.

Mrs. Phillips was for a long period one of the honorary secretaries of the
Ripon Home for Girls, and did much useful work for this excellent
institution. Says one who knew her well, "She was extremely generous in
disposition, and her warm-hearted liberality and her kindly interest in
those in distress endeared her to all classes." On May 25th, 1897, she
died at Sea Lawn, Torquay, having reached the age of sixty-six years.

Instead of giving brief quotations from several pieces, it will be perhaps
the better plan to reproduce at length two or three of the author's poems,
and enable our readers to form their own conclusions. We may not quote the
best of the writer's work, but indicate her style. No one, we think, can
read lines like the following without being moved, and his sympathy
extended to the sorrowing fisher-folk:--


      "'Lost, with all hands, at sea.'
      The Christmas sun shines down
  On the headlands that frown o'er the harbour wide,
  On the cottages, thick on the long quay side,
      On the roofs of the busy town.

      'Lost, with all hands, at sea.'
      The dread words sound like a wail,
  The song of the waits, and the clash of the bells,
  Ring like death-bed dirges or funeral knells,
      In the pauses of the gale.

      Never a home so poor
      But it brightens for good Yule Tide,
  Never a heart too sad or too lone,
  But the holy Christmas mirth 'twill own,
      And his welcome will provide.

      Where the sea-coal fire leaps
      On the fisherman's quiet hearth,
  The Yule Log lies for his hand to heave,
  While he hastes to his bride on Christmas Eve,
      In the flush of his strength and mirth.

      High on the little shelf
      The tall Yule candle stands,
  For the ship is due ere the Christmas night,
  And it waits to be duly set alight,
      By the coming father's hands.

      Long has the widow spared
      Her pittance for warmth and bread,
  That her sailor boy, when he home returns,
  May joy, that her fire brightly burns,
      Her board is so amply spread.

      The sharp reef moans and moans,
      The foam on the sand lies hoar;
  The 'sea-dog' flickers across the sky,
  The north wind whistles shrill and high
      'Mid the breakers' ominous roar.

      But on the great pier head,
      The grey-haired sailors stand,
  While the black clouds pile away in the west,
  And the spray flies free from the billow's crest
      Ere they dash on the hollow sand.

      Never a sail to be seen
      On the long grim tossing swell;
  Only drifting wreckage of canvas and spar,
  That sweep with the waves o'er the harbour bar,
      Their terrible tale to tell.

      Did a vision of Christmas pass
      Before their drowning eyes?
  When 'mid rent of rigging and crash of mast,
  The brave ship, smote by the mighty blast,
      Went down 'neath the pitiless skies.

      No Christmas joy I ween
      On the rock-bound coast may be.
  Put token and custom of Yule away,
  While widows and orphans weep and pray
      For the 'hands lost out at sea.'"

Still in the pathetic strain we will give another poem. In quoting this we
feel we are not doing full justice to Mrs. Phillips, but it at all events
shows her deep devotion to the race she greatly helped in their many


  "Up on the breezy headland the fisherman's grave they made,
  Where, over the daisies and clover-bells, the birchen branches swayed;
  Above us the lark was singing in the cloudless skies of June,
  And under the cliffs the billows were chanting their ceaseless tune;
  For the creamy line was curving along the hollow shore,
  Where the dear old tides were flowing that he would ride no more.

  The dirge of the wave, the note of the bird, and the priest's low tone
      were blent
  In the breeze that blew from the moorland, all laden with country scent;
  But never a thought of the new-mown hay tossing on sunny plains,
  Or of lilies deep in the wild wood, or roses gemming the lanes,
  Woke in the hearts of the stern bronzed men who gathered about the
  Where lay the mate who had fought with them the battle of wind and wave.

  How boldly he steered the coble across the foaming bar,
  When the sky was black to the eastward and the breakers white on the
  How his keen eye caught the squall ahead, how his strong hand furled the
  As we drove through the angry waters before the raging gale!
  How cheery he kept the long dark night; and never a parson spoke
  Good words like those he said to us when at last the morning broke!

  So thought the dead man's comrades, as silent and sad they stood,
  While the prayer was prayed, the blessing said, and the dull earth
      struck the wood;
  And the widow's sob, and the orphan's wail, jarred through the joyous
  How could the light wind o'er the sea blow on so fresh and fair?
  How could the gay waves laugh and leap, landward o'er sand and stone,
  While he, who knew and loved them all, lay lapped in clay alone?

  But for long, when to the beetling heights the snow-tipped billows roll,
  When the cod, and the skate, and dogfish dart around the herring shoal;
  When gear is sorted and sail is set, and the merry breezes blow,
  And away to the deep-sea harvest the stalwart reapers go,
  A kindly sigh and a hearty word, they will give to him who lies
  Where the clover springs, and the heather blooms beneath the northern

We regard the following lines on a well-known division of East Yorkshire,
as a successful effort on the part of Mrs. Phillips. An August day spent
in rambling amongst the leafy lanes of Holderness cannot easily be
forgotten. There is a lack of romantic and rugged scenery, but the old
farmsteads nestling amongst the trees and the fields of golden grain have
a beauty not surpassed in many parts of old England:--


  "The wind blew over the barley, the wind blew over the wheat,
  Where the scarlet poppy toss'd her head, with the bindweed at her feet;
  The wind blew over the great blue sea, in the golden August weather,
  Till the tossing corn and the tossing waves showed shadow and gleam

  The wind blew over the barley, the wind blew over the oats,
  The lark sprung up in the sunny sky, and shook his ringing notes;
  Over the wealth of the smiling land, the sweep of the glittering sea,
  'Which is the fairest?' he sang, as he soared o'er the beautiful

  And with a fuller voice than the wind, a deeper tone than the bird,
  Came the answer from the solemn sea, that Nature, pausing, heard,--
  'The corn will be garnered, the lark will be hushed at the frown of the
      wintry weather,
  The sun will fly from the snow-piled sky, but I go on for ever!'"

It would be a pleasure to reproduce some of her poems dealing with the
romantic legends of her native shire, but the space at our disposal does
not permit this; they may, however, be found in her published works. We
close with some pretty lines on the bells she loved so well:--


  "The Whitby bells, so full and free,
  They ring across the sunny sea,
  That the great ocean god, who dwells
  'Mid coral groves and silvery shells,
  Wakes to the summons joyously.

  O'er the purpling moors and ferny dells
  Sound the sweet chimes, and bird and bee
  Pause, hearing over land and lea
                  The Whitby bells.

  And as the mellow music swells
  One listener to the Whitby bells
  Feels all the days that used to be,
  Speak in the blended harmony;
  They shrine life--death--and their farewells,
                  The Whitby bells."

A Poet and Novelist of the People:

Thomas Miller.

On the roll of self-taught authors, Thomas Miller is entitled to a high
place, and amongst Victorian men of letters he holds an honourable
position. He enriched English literature with many charming works on
country life and scenes. Although his career was not eventful, it is not
without interest, furnishing a notable instance of a man surmounting
difficulties and gaining distinction.

He was born on August 31st, 1808, at Gainsborough, a quaint old
Lincolnshire town, situated on the banks of the river Trent. His father
held a good position, being a wharfinger and shipowner; he died, however,
when his son was a child, without making provision for his wife, who had
to pass some years in pinching poverty. Young Thomas received a very
limited education at school, and according to his own account he only
learned "to write a very indifferent hand, and to read the Testament
tolerably." His playmate was Thomas Cooper, the Chartist and Poet, and
this notable man, in his autobiography, has much to say about the boyhood
of our hero. Mrs. Miller, to provide for her family, had to sew sacks.

Says Thomas Cooper, "She worked early and late for bread for herself and
her two boys; but would run in, now and then, at the back door, and join
my mother for a few whiffs at the pipe. And then away they would go again
to work, after cheering each other, to go stoutly through the battle of

"They bent their wits, on one occasion," continues Mr. Cooper, "to
disappoint the tax-gatherer. He was to 'distrain' on a certain day; but
beds, chairs, and tables were moved secretly in the night to blind Thomas
Chatterton's; and when the tax-gatherer came next day to execute his
threat, there was nothing left worth his taking. The poor were often
driven to such desperate schemes to save all they had from ruin, in those
days; and the curse upon taxes and the tax-gatherer was in the mouths of
hundreds--for those years of war were terrific years of suffering for the
poor, notwithstanding their shouts and rejoicings when Matthew Guy rode
in, with ribbons flying, bringing news of another 'glorious victory.'"
"Sometimes," adds Mr. Cooper, "Miller's mother and mine were excused
paying some of the taxes by appealing to the magistrates, a few of whom
respected them for their industry, and commiserated their hardships. But
the petition did not always avail."

In spite of poverty, Miller's childhood was not without its sunshine, and
many days spent in the lanes and fields were not the least enjoyable of
his pleasures. He was first engaged as a farmer's boy at Thornock, a
village near his native town. The trade of basket-making was subsequently
learned, and when quite a young man he married. He migrated to Nottingham,
and obtained employment as a journeyman at a basket-manufactory in the

"At this period," says Dr. Spencer T. Hall, "the Sherwood Forester," "he
had a somewhat round but intelligent face, a fair complexion, full, blue,
speaking eyes, and a voice reminding one of the deeper and softer tones of
a well-played flute. Of all who saw him at his work, it is probable that
scarcely one knew how befitting him was the couplet of Virgil, where he

  'Thus while I sung, my sorrows I deceived,
  And bending osiers into baskets weaved.'"

He had the good fortune to become known to Mr. Thomas Bailey, a man of
literary taste, the writer of several works, and father of the more famous
Philip James Bailey, author of "Festus." Mr. Bailey recognised at once the
merits of a collection of poems submitted to him by Miller, was the means
of the pieces being printed, and did all in his power to obtain a
favourable welcome for the volume. The book was entitled "Songs of Sea
Nymphs;" it contained only forty-eight pages, and was sold at two
shillings. In his preface the author stated: "I am induced to offer these
extracts from unpublished poems in their present state solely because I
cannot find any publisher who will undertake, without an extensive list of
subscribers, the risk of publishing a volume of poetry written by an
individual whose humble station in life buries him in obscurity." He next
explains that the object of the work is to elicit the opinion of his
country-men as to the merits or demerits of his verses--which he terms
"trifles." Mr. Miller says, "Concerning the poems, I have only to add that
the three first songs are extracts from an unpublished poem entitled,
'Hero and Leander, a Tale of the Sea.' The scene is chiefly confined to
Neptune's palace beneath the waves. The other extracts are from 'Adelaide
and Reginald, a Fairy Tale of Bosworth Field.' I am aware that the date is
too modern for fairies; however, who can prove it? for so long as a barren
circle is found in the velvet valleys of England, tradition will ever call
it a fairy-ring. Having launched my little bark on the casual ocean of
public opinion, not without anxiety, I leave it to its fate.--Thomas
Miller, Basket-maker, Nottingham, August, 1832." The volume was the means
of making him many friends, and enabling him to start business on his own
account. He had a work-room in the Long Row, and a stall on a Saturday in
the market-place. Here is a picture of the stall from Spencer Hall's
graphic pen:--"There was poetry in his very baskets. A few coarser ones
were there, but others of more beautiful pattern, texture, and colour,
flung a sort of bloom over the rest; and the basket-maker and his wares
well-matched each other, as he would take his cigar from his mouth, and
ask some pretty market maiden, in his cheeriest tones, as she lingered and
looked, if she would not like to purchase. As a youth, I was wont to stand
there chatting with him occasionally, and to hear him, between customers,
pour out the poetry of Coleridge and other great minds, with an
appreciance and a melody that such authors might themselves have listened
to with pride and delight."

He next moved to London, hoping to follow a literary career by
contributing at the commencement to the monthly magazines. Writing gave
Miller great pleasure, but put little money in his purse, and to obtain
bread for his household he had to work at his trade in the metropolis.
Friends at first were few, and he had none able to help him to literary
employment. He had journeyed to London alone, and arrived there with
seven-and-sixpence in his pocket, intending to send for his wife and
family when brighter days dawned. Some time passed before there was a
break in the dark clouds which hung over him. Here are particulars of the
dawn of better times. "One day," says Mr. Joseph Johnson, in _Manchester
Notes and Queries_, "when bending over his baskets, he was surprised by a
visit from Mr. W. H. Harrison, editor of _Friendship's Offering_, who had
fortunately read one of Miller's poems, and had become impressed with the
ability and original talent of the author. The result of the interview was
a request that the basket-maker would write a poem for the _Offering_.
Miller, at the time, was so poor that he had neither paper, pens, nor ink,
nor the means to buy these needful materials for his poem. He tided over
the difficulty by using the whity-brown paper in which his sugar had been
wrapped, and mixed some soot with water for his ink; the back of a bellows
serving him for a desk, upon which he wrote his charming poem, entitled,
'The Old Fountain.' His letter to the editor of the _Offering_ was sealed
with moistened bread. The poem was accepted, and two guineas immediately
returned. It is simply impossible to imagine the rapture which would fill
the breast of the poor poet on receipt of so large a sum." Says Miller, "I
never had been so rich in my life before, and I fancied some one would
hear of my fortune and try and rob me of it; so, at night, I barred the
door, and went to bed, but did not sleep all night, from delight and

We reproduce the lines as a fair example of Miller's poetry:--


    "Deep in the bosom of a silent wood,
    Where an eternal twilight dimly reigns,
    A sculptured fountain hath for ages stood,
    O'erhung with trees; and still such awe remains
    Around the spot, that few dare venture there--
  The babbling water spreads such superstitious fear.

    It looks so old and grey, with moss besprent,
    And carven imag'ry, grotesque or quaint;
    Eagles and lions are with dragons blent
    And cross-winged cherub; while o'er all a Saint
    Bends grimly down with frozen blown-back hair,
  And on the dancing spray its dead eyes ever stare.

    From out a dolphin's mouth the water leaps
    And frets, and tumbles to its bed of gloom;
    So dark the umbrage under which it sweeps,
    Stretching in distance like a dreary tomb;
    With murmurs fraught, and many a gibbering sound,
  Gurgle, and moan, and hiss, and plash, and fitful bound.

    Oh! 'tis a spot where man might sit and weep
    His childish griefs and petty cares away;
    Wearied Ambition might lie there and sleep,
    And hoary Crime in silence kneel to pray.
    The fountain's voice, the day-beams faintly given,
  Tell of that starlight land we pass in dreams to heaven.

    There, lovely forms in elder times were seen,
    And snowy kirtles waved between the trees;
    And light feet swept along the velvet green,
    While the rude anthem rose upon the breeze,
    When round the margin England's early daughters
  Worshipped the rough-hewn Saint that yet bends o'er the waters.

    And some bent priest, whose locks were white as snow,
    Would raise his trembling hands and voice to pray;
    All would be hushed save that old fountain's flow
    That rolling bore the echoes far away;
    Perchance a dove, amid the foliage dim,
  Might raise a coo, then pause to list their parting hymn.

    That old grey abbey lies in ruins now,
    The wild-flowers wave where swung its pond'rous door;
    Where once the altar rose, rank nettles grow,
    The anthem's solemn sound is heard no more;
    'Tis as if Time had laid down to repose,
  Drowsed by the fountain's voice, which through the forest flows."

He wrote and worked at his trade; his poetry won for him many admirers,
amongst them Lady Blessington, Thomas Moore, Samuel Rogers, the
banker-poet, and others, and he was welcomed to their houses. He remarked,
"Often have I been sitting in Lady Blessington's splendid drawing-room in
the morning, and talking and laughing as familiarly as in the old house at
home; and on the same evening I might have been seen on Westminster
Bridge, between an apple vendor and a baked-potato merchant, vending my

In 1836, he wrote "A Day in the Woods," consisting of a series of
sketches, stories, and poems. The reading public welcomed the work, and
the critical press recognised it as the production of a man of undoubted
genius. He continued to make friends, including "L. E. L.," the poetess,
Campbell, Leigh Hunt, Jerrold, Disraeli and Thackeray. The merits and
success of his book caused Colburn to make him a tempting offer to write
a three-volume novel, and in 1838 appeared "Royston Gower." The work was
so popular that the same publisher commissioned him to write two more
novels, namely, in 1839, "Fair Rosamond," and in 1840, "Lady Jane Grey."
He produced other novels, perhaps the best known is "Gideon Giles." These
works are now to be obtained in cheap form, and have been most extensively

He was assisted and encouraged by Rogers, Lady Blessington and others, to
commence as a publisher and bookseller, and was enabled by their kindness
to purchase back from Colburn the copyrights of his novels. His place of
business was 9, Newgate Street, opposite Christ's Hospital, and from here
he issued several of his own books besides works by well-known authors.
Miller did not succeed in business, and gave it up to devote all his time
to writing books and contributing to the periodicals and newspapers. He
wrote for the _Athenæum_, _Literary Gazette_, _Chambers' Journal_,
_Household Words_, _Boys' Own Magazine_, the _Illustrated London News_,
and other monthlies and weeklies. Many leading articles from his facile
pen appeared in the _Morning Post_. His papers on the months in Chambers'
"Book of Days," which describe the varied aspects of the country during
the year, have been reproduced in an elegant volume bearing the title of
"All Round the Year."

Mr. J. Potter Briscoe, F.R.H.S., kindly supplies me with the following
list of books by Thomas Miller:--"All Round the Year," 1860; "Birds, Bees,
and Blossoms," 1867, 1869 (see also "Original Poems," etc.); "British Wolf
Hunter," 1859; "Boys' Own Library," 6 vols., 1856; "Boys' Spring, Summer,
Autumn, and Winter Books," 1847, 1881; "Boys' Own Country Book, Seasons,
and Rural Rides," 1867, 1868; "Brampton among the Roses," 1863; "Child's
Country Book," 1867; "Child's Country Story Book," 1867, 1870, 1881;
"Common Wayside Flowers," 1841, 1873; "Country Year book," 2 vols., 1847,
1 vol., 1836; "Day in the Woods," 1836; "Desolate Hall," (in "Friendship's
Offering") 1838; "Dorothy Dovedale's Trials," 2 vols., 1864; "English
Country Life," 1858, 1859, 1864; "Fair Rosamond," 3 vols., 1839, 1 vol.,
1862; "Fortune and Fortitude," 1848; "Fred and the Gorillas," 1869, 1873;
"Fred Holdsworth" (In _Illustrated London News_), 1852, 1873; "Gaboon,"
1868; "Gideon Giles, the Roper," 1840, 1841, 1859, 1867; "Godfrey
Malvern," 1842, 1843, 1844, 1847, 1858, 1877; "Goody Platts and her two
Cats," 1864; "History of the Anglo-Saxons," 1848, 1850, 1852, 1856;
"Jack-of-All-Trades," 1867; "Lady Jane Grey, a romance," 3 vols., 1840, 1
vol., 1861, 1864; "Langley-on-the-Lea; or, Love and Duty," 1858; "Life and
[remarkable] Adventures of a Dog," 1856, 1870; "Lights and Shades of
London Life" (forming vol. 5 of Reynolds' _Mysteries of London_); "Little
Blue Hood," 1863; "My Father's Garden," 1866, 1867; "No Man's Land, etc.,"
1860, 1861, 1863; "Old Fountain" (in _Friendship's Offering_, etc.);
"Original Poems for my Children," 1850 (see also "Birds," etc.); "Our Old
Town" (Gainsborough) 1857, 1858; "Old Park Road," 1870, 1876; "Picturesque
Sketches of London," 1852 (in the _Illustrated London News_); "Pictures of
Country Life," 1846, 1847, 1853; "Poacher and other Pictures of Country
Life," 1858; "Poems," 1841, 1848, 1856; "Poetical Language of Flowers,"
1838, 1847, 1853, 1856, 1865, 1869, 1872; "Royston Gower," 3 vols., 1830,
1 vol. 1858, 1860, 1874; "Rural Sketches," 1839, 1861; "Sketches of
English Country Life"; "Songs for British Riflemen," 1860; "Songs of the
Sea Nymphs," 1857; "Songs of the Seasons," 1865; "Sports and Pastimes of
Merry England," 1859 (?-56); "Summer Morning," 1844; "Tales of Old
England," 1849, 1881; "Village Queen," 1851, 1852; "Watch the End" (second
edition of "My Father's Garden") 1869, 1871, 1873; "Year Book of Country
Life," 1855; "Year Book of the Country," 1837; "Young Angler," 1862.

The foregoing volumes are in the Nottingham Public Library, and the
librarian, Mr. Briscoe is to be congratulated on bringing together
Miller's works in the city closely associated with his career. In Paxton
Hood's "Peerage of Poverty," a fine estimate of Miller's ability as an
author is given, though very little about his life is recorded. On the
25th of October, 1874, he died at his residence, a small house in West
Street, Kensington, leaving a son and two daughters. Shortly before his
death an effort was made to get him placed on the Civil List. Mr. Disraeli
was not able to include him at the time, but, with his well-known
generosity, made him an allowance from some other fund. Miller only
received one quarterly instalment before passing away.

The Cottage Countess.

The late Poet Laureate has given a world-wide interest to the romantic
story of "The Peasant Countess" of "Burleigh House by Stamford town," in
his popular poem, "The Lord of Burleigh." He relates how Henry Cecil, in
the guise of a landscape painter in humble circumstances, wooes and weds a
rustic maiden, and how a shadow overcasts her bright dream when the real
rank of her husband is made known to her:--

  "But a trouble weighed upon her,
    And perplexed her night and morn,
  With the burthen of an honour
    Unto which she was not born.
  Faint she grew, and ever fainter,
    And she murmured, 'Oh, that he
  Were once more that landscape-painter,
    Which did win my heart from me.'
  So she drooped and drooped before him,
    Fading slowly from his side:
  Three fair children first she bore him,
    Then before her time she died."

The poet tells how keenly the Lord of Burleigh mourned her loss, and that
he buried her in the dress in which she was married.

The real facts, however, are not so poetical; yet Hazlitt says that the
story outdoes the "Arabian Nights." The following particulars may be
regarded as a correct version of this romantic tale. Henry Cecil was born
in the year 1754, and was the only child of the Hon. Thomas Chambers Cecil
by his marriage with Miss Charlotte Gardner. At the age of nineteen he had
lost his parents, and was the presumptive heir to his uncle's estates and
the earldom of Exeter. He was by no means popular with his uncle, and
seldom troubled the inmates of Burleigh House with his presence. While
still a minor, he married into a good old west of England family, his wife
being a lady of great personal charms, named Emma Vernon, the only
daughter of the Squire of Hornbury Hall, in the county of Worcester. The
union was not a happy one, young Cecil being far from an exemplary
husband. He wasted much of his time and money in gambling. After fifteen
years of married life he sought and obtained a divorce. His own folly and
other circumstances rendered him a poor man, and induced him shortly
before the time he obtained a divorce to quit the society of those in his
rank of life, and settle down in one of the secluded villages in
Shropshire. He selected Bolas Magna, a charming little place, nestling
among apple orchards and green lanes. Here he was known as John Jones, and
was lost to the fashionable world, out of sight and out of mind. For a
short time he lodged at the village hostelry, freely conversing with the
customers who came at night to smoke their pipes and drink their beer. The
days he spent in sketching the pretty bits of scenery in the district.

The noisy life of an inn soon palled upon him, and he sought lodgings at
some of the farmhouses, but his search was almost futile, as he was viewed
with much suspicion; indeed, some went so far as to hint that he was a
highwayman. The honest country folk failed to discover any visible means
of his making money, although they saw that he spent it pretty freely. He
at last procured lodgings at the dwelling of a labourer called Hoggins,
and soon made himself a favourite in the humble household. Cecil appears
to have been anticipating the day when he would be a free man, and, even
before he had obtained a divorce, he paid some attention to an attractive
young woman named Taylor. She, however, being engaged, did not favour his
suit. He then made love to Sarah Hoggins, the daughter of his landlady--a
young, comely, honest girl, who reciprocated his affection. Her mother was
doubtful about the matter, feeling that the marriage of her girl with a
stranger was a step that might lead to serious results, and she had a
lingering suspicion that there might be some truth in the rumour of her
lodger being a highwayman. The father was more favourably inclined; he saw
that the man had plenty of money, and it was a golden opportunity not to
be missed, and he encouraged the match. Eventually the mother had to give
way. In June, 1791, he obtained a divorce, and, on the 3rd of October, in
the same year, in the little church of Bolas, Henry Cecil and Sarah
Hoggins were married. He bought a piece of land near Hodnet, and on it
built a house, the largest in the neighbourhood. The local tradesmen
looked upon him with mistrust, and he had to make liberal advances of
money before they would undertake the work. Here he lived with his young
wife, teaching her such accomplishments as she would require in her
future high station. He did not, however, give any hint as to his real
character. His superior manners and education, in spite of the mystery of
his life, made him friends, and inspired some confidence, so that the
ratepayers elected him to one of their parish offices. The duties of his
parochial appointment took him to the sessions at Shrewsbury, where he
encountered a brother magistrate, who had been an old schoolfellow,
although not recognised by him. As a proof of his disposition to oblige
his friends and make himself generally useful, it is recorded that on one
occasion he gratified his father-in-law by carrying a large pig as a
present to a neighbouring squire.

A little daughter was born at Bolas, who died after living a few days, and
was buried in the churchyard, without a stone to mark her grave, which is
now forgotten.

After he had been married about two years he read in a country newspaper
an account of the death of his uncle, which occurred towards the close of
the year 1793. Early in the following January, he repaired, with his wife,
then nineteen years of age, to Burleigh House. He merely told her that he
had to go to a distant part of the country, and wished to have her
company. They travelled on horseback, the wife being seated on a pillion
behind her husband, according to the fashion of the period. They stopped
at the several noblemen's and gentlemen's seats on their route. At last
they reached Burleigh House, where she was told that she was a countess,
and the mystery of Henry Cecil solved.

When surrounded by the titled and the great, she sighed for a humbler
position, but nevertheless she made an excellent wife and mother, and the
happiness of her husband was complete. It was of short duration, for in
the flower of her life she died, deeply lamented, on January 17th, 1797.

In addition to the first-born previously mentioned, they had a daughter
and two sons. One of the sons was the peer who succeeded his father. Lord
Burleigh settled seven hundred a year on his wife's parents, and gave them
the house he had just vacated. The Countess was cordially received by the
Earl's relatives, and mixed in the fashionable society of London, and won
respect and regard from all with whom she came in contact.

Lawrence painted her portrait. She is represented as far from rustic in
appearance, her face being oval and very pleasing.

It remains to be stated, to complete the outline of the life of Henry
Cecil, that he was created a marquis, that he married for his third wife
the Dowager-Duchess of Hamilton, and died in the year 1804.

The Compiler of "Old Moore's Almanac,"

Henry Andrews.

The name of Henry Andrews is familiar to the literary and scientific world
as the compiler for many years of "Old Moore's Almanac," but the
particulars of his life are not generally known. His career, although not
an eventful one, was most honourable, and furnishes a notable example of a
man who, from a humble beginning, by perserverance attained an important
position in life.

He was born at Frieston, near Grantham, on February 4th, 1744, of parents
in poor circumstances, who were only able to afford him a limited
education. In his earliest years he appears to have had a love for
astronomy, a science in which he afterwards became one of the most
proficient of his day. It is recorded that when only six years old he
would frequently stand in his shirt looking at the moon out of his chamber
window at midnight; when about ten years of age, he used to fix a table on
Frieston Green on clear frosty nights, and set a telescope thereon
through which to view the stars. The young student would afterwards sit
by the fireside with a table covered with books, making astronomical

At an early age he left home to earn his own living, the first situation
he filled being that of servant to a shopkeeper at Sleaford. We next trace
him to the city of Lincoln, where he was engaged to wait upon a lady.
During his leisure time, he took every opportunity to make weather-glasses
and weather-houses. The last situation he held as a gentleman's servant,
was under J. Feriman, Esq., who found Andrews so intent on study that he
kindly allowed him two or three hours daily to devote to that purpose.

We are told that on the 1st of April, 1764, he went to Aswarby Hall, the
seat of Sir Christopher Whichcote, to view the eclipse of the sun which
was visible on that day. A number of ladies and gentlemen had assembled
for the same purpose. Having previously calculated a type of this eclipse,
he presented the same to the company, showing them the manner of its
appearance in a dark room upon a board, and, after it was over they
unanimously declared that his calculations came nearer than any given in
the almanacs. Shortly after the above meeting, he opened a school at
Basingthorpe, near Grantham. We presume the venture did not prove
satisfactory, for we find that he was afterwards engaged as an usher in a
clergyman's boarding-school at Stilton. His next move was to Cambridge,
hoping there to obtain assistance in prosecuting his studies from the men
of science in the University. Accustomed to a quiet life, he could not
endure the bustle of that ancient seat of learning, so left and settled at
Royston, Hertfordshire, where he opened a school, and continued to reside
until the day of his death. He had only reached the age of twenty-three
when he took up his residence at the latter town.

A few years after Andrews settled there, we find his name on the
title-page of an almanac, and an advertisement of his school. The
title-page of the publication is curious, and reads as follows:--

    "A Royal almanac and meteorological diary for the year of our Lord,
    1778, and of the Julian period 6491. The second after Bissextile or
    leap year, and the eighteenth year of the Reign of his Majesty King
    George III. Containing the feasts and fasts of the Church of England;
    the times of the lunations; the rising and setting of the sun; the
    equation of time for the regulating of clocks and watches; the moon's
    rising and setting; the times of high water at London Bridge, morning
    and afternoon; the aspects of the planets and weather. Also, for every
    sixth day, the increase and decrease of days; the beginning and end
    of daylight; the nightly rising, southing and setting of the planets
    and seven stars; adapted to the meridian and latitude of London.
    Likewise an exact meteorological journal for the preceding year, or
    the state of the barometer and thermometer, with the wind, weather,
    &c., as they were registered every day. Also the depth of rain which
    fell, and the observations made every month. To which are added the
    eclipses of the sun and moon and other remarkable phenomena that will
    happen this year; the Middlesex commencement of the sessions of the
    peace; a table of the terms and their returns, and for finding the
    times of high water at most of the seaports of this kingdom. By Henry
    Andrews, Teacher of the Mathematics, at Royston, Herts. London:
    Printed for T. Carnan, in St. Paul's Church-Yard, who dispossessed the
    stationers of the privilege of printing almanacs, which they had
    unjustly monopolised 170 years, 1778. Price 1s."

Following is a copy of his advertisement:--

    "At Royston, Herts., Young Gentlemen and others may be commendably
    boarded with the Author of this Almanac at reasonable rates, and be
    taught by him as follows, viz., Writing, Arithmetic, Mensuration,
    Geometry, Trigonometry, Navigation, Astronomy, the use of the Globes,

For forty-three years Henry Andrews compiled _Moore's Almanac_ for the
Company of Stationers. The following extract from a letter written by
Andrews' only son, proves that he did not receive liberal remuneration for
his arduous task. Mr. W. H. Andrews stated:--"My father's calculations,
etc., for _Moore's Almanac_ continued during a period of forty-three
years; and although through his great talent and management he increased
the sale of that work from 100,000 to 500,000 copies, yet, strange to say,
all he received for his services was £25 per annum. Yet I never heard him
murmur even once about it; such was his delight in pursuing his favourite
studies, that his anxiety about remuneration was out of the question. Sir
Richard Phillips, who at times visited him at Royston, once met him in
London, and endeavoured to persuade him to go with him to Stationers'
Hall, and he would get him £100; but he declined going, saying that he was

He was compiler of the _Nautical Ephemeris_, and on retiring from the
appointment he received the thanks of the Board of Longitude, accompanied
by a handsome present, as a just tribute of long and able services, for
which he would not receive more than a nominal payment.

In 1805, Andrews built a house in High Street, Royston, and in it he spent
the remainder of his life. It is worthy of note that he paid the builders
of the work as it progressed, on account of the men being in poor
circumstances, a good proof of his kind consideration.

At the age of seventy-six, Andrews closed his well-spent life. We find in
the _Gentleman's Magazine_, of February, 1820, a short notice of his
career, concluding thus:--

"His profound knowledge of Astronomy and the Mathematics was acknowledged
by all scientific men who were acquainted with his abilities, but the
greatness of his mind was never more conspicuous than during the period of
his last illness; and on his deathbed not a murmur escaped his lips, but
serenity of mind, patience, and resignation were constantly depicted in
his countenance, in which amiable situation he continued until the vital
spark fled."

He was interred in the new burial ground, Royston, and over his remains
was placed a tombstone, bearing the following inscription:--

    "In memory of Mr. Henry Andrews, who, from a limited education, made
    great progress in the liberal sciences, and was justly esteemed one of
    the best Astronomers of the Age. He departed this life, in full
    assurance of a better, January 26th, 1820, aged 76 years."

A portrait of Henry Andrews was published, and is now very rare. Dr.
Charles Mackay, in his entertaining volume entitled "Extraordinary Popular
Delusions" (issued by Routledge), gives a small portrait, and under it
states, "Henry Andrews, the original 'Francis Moore.'" This is a mistake,
as the Almanac was named after Francis Moore, physician, one of the many
quack doctors who duped the credulous in the latter part of the 17th
century. In Chambers's "Book of Days" (Vol. I., pages 9-14) will be found
some very interesting information respecting Almanacs and Almanac Writers.
We find it stated that "Francis Moore, in his Almanac for 1711, dates from
the sign of the Old Lilly, near the old barge-house, in Christ Church
Parish, Southwark, July 19th, 1710." Then follows an advertisement, in
which he undertakes to cure diseases. Lysons mentions him as one of the
remarkable men who, at different periods, resided at Lambeth, and says
that his house was in Calcott's Alley, High Street, then called Back Lane,
where he practised as astrologer, physician, and schoolmaster. _Moore's
Almanac_ had appeared some years prior to 1711. We refer the reader
wishing to obtain information respecting written and printed almanacs, to
"The Book of Days."

James Nayler,

The Mad Quaker, who claimed to be the Messiah.

History furnishes particulars of many men who have claimed to be the
Messiah, and perhaps the most celebrated of the number is James Nayler,
"the mad Quaker." He was born at East Ardsley, near Wakefield, in the year
1616. It is certain that his parents were in humble circumstances, and it
is generally believed that his father occupied a house near the old
church, and that he was a small farmer. James Nayler, for a person in his
station in life, received a fairly good education. In his early manhood he
was a husbandman, and resided in his native village. When about twenty-two
years of age he married, as he puts it, "according to the world," and
removed to Wakefield.

Shortly after his marriage, the Civil War broke out in England, and Nayler
took his share in the struggle between King and Parliament. He joined, in
1641, as a private, the Parliamentarian army, and his conduct and ability
gaining him advancement, he rose to the position of quarter-master under
General Lambert. While in Scotland ill-health obliged him to retire from
active service, and he returned home.

Nayler carefully studied the Scriptures, and was a zealous member of the
Independents, worshipping at Horbury, but he left this body in disgrace.
It transpired that he had been paying attentions to a married woman named
Mrs. Roper, of Horbury, whose husband had been absent from her for a long
period, and that she became a mother, and that Nayler was the father of
the child. The Rev. Mr. Marshall, the minister of the Independents,
exposed him, and took him severely to task, so that he was finally
expelled from that body.

George Fox, the founder of the Society of Friends, visited Wakefield in
the year 1651, and made a convert of James Nayler. Here commences the real
interest of Nayler's career--a career in which there is much to deplore,
but much also certainly to cause wonder. He possessed extraordinary gifts
as a preacher, and impressed the people with the truth of his teaching,
more especially in the North and West of England. Troubles beset him
almost on every hand,--troubles often caused through his own mistaken
zeal and frail conduct; but he bore his trials with a noble Christian
spirit. Nayler had no sooner joined the Quakers then he commenced what he
termed his travels. At the quarter-sessions held at Appleby, in 1652, he
was tried and found guilty of blasphemy, and sentenced to twenty weeks'
imprisonment. On being released he continued spreading his doctrines in
the North. We gather from the remarks of an officer who had served under
Cromwell a testimony to the power of Nayler's preaching. "After the battle
of Dunbar," says the officer, "as I was riding in Scotland at the head of
my troop, I observed at some distance from the road a crowd of people, and
one higher than the rest; upon which I sent one of my men to see, and
bring me word what was the meaning of the gathering; and seeing him ride
up and stay there, without returning according to my order, I sent a
second, who stayed in like manner; and then I determined to go myself.
When I came thither, I found it was James Nayler preaching to the people,
but with such power and reaching energy as I had not till then been
witness of. I could not help staying a little, although I was afraid to
stay, for fear I was made a _Quaker_, being forced to tremble at the
sight of myself. I was struck with more terror by the preaching of James
Nayler than I was at the battle of Dunbar, when we had nothing else to
expect but to fall a prey to the swords of our enemies, without being able
to help ourselves. I clearly saw the Cross of Christ to be submitted to,
so I durst stay no longer, but got off, and carried condemnation for it in
my own breast. The people there cried out against themselves, imploring
mercy, a thorough change, and the whole work of salvation to be effected
by them."

Nayler, in 1654 after visiting in the West, wended his way to London, and
preached to two congregations which had been formed by Edward Burrough and
Francis Howgil, members of the Society of Friends, who suffered
imprisonment with him at Appleby. He broke up both congregations, and drew
after him "some inconsiderate women."

His mind gave way, and he believed that he was the Messiah.
"Notwithstanding the irregularities of Nayler's life," says Scatcherd, the
learned historian of Morley, "there were many things in the man, which,
with low and ignorant people, exceedingly favoured his pretensions to the
Messiahship. He appeared, both as to form and feature, the perfect
likeness to Jesus Christ, according to the best descriptions. His face was
of the oval shape, his forehead broad, his hair auburn and long, and
parted on the brow, his beard flowing, his eyes beaming with a benignant
lustre, his nose of the Grecian or Caucasian order, his figure erect and
majestic, his aspect sedate, his speech sententious, deliberative, and
grave, and his manner authoritative." Carlyle has drawn a pen picture of
Nayler, but not with the skill of the foregoing.

It is not our intention to attempt to trace Nayler from place to place in
his wanderings, but to touch on the more important episodes of his closing
years. He visited the West in 1652 on a religious mission, and revisited
it again four years later. During his visit to Cornwall, he prophesied,
and subsequently one of the charges made against him was that he
proclaimed himself to be a prophet. At Exeter he was charged with
vagrancy, and imprisoned. During his confinement he was visited by a
number of women, who had been moved by his teaching. Amongst the number
was a widow named Dorcas Erbury. She fell into a swoon, and it was
supposed that she was dead. Nayler went through certain ceremonies, and
he pretended to have restored her to life. Referring to this when examined
by the Bristol Magistrate at a later period, the woman said: "Nayler laid
his hand on my head after I had been dead two days, and said, 'Dorcas,
arise!' and I arose, and live, as thou seest." On being asked if she had
any witness to corroborate her statement, she said that her mother was
present. The local authorities at Exeter released Nayler after detaining
him for a short time. At this period some strange scenes occurred. "The
usual posture of Nayler," says Scatcherd, "was sitting in a chair, while
his company of men and women knelt before him." These, it appears, were
very numerous and constant for whole days together. At the commencement of
the service, a female stepped forth and sang:--

  "This is the joyful day,
  Behold! the King of righteousness is come!"

Another, taking him by the hand, exclaimed:--

  "Rise up, my love--my dove--and come away,
  Why sittest thou among the pots."

Then, putting his hand upon her mouth, she sunk upon the ground before
him, the auditory vociferating:--

  "Holy, holy, holy, to the Almighty."

His procession through Chepstow caused much amazement in that quiet place.
"Nayler" is described as being mounted on the back of a horse or
mule;--one Woodcock preceded him bareheaded, and on foot:--a female on
each side of Nayler held his bridle; many spread garments in his
way,--while the women sang: "Hosannah to the Son of David--blessed is he
that cometh in the name of the Lord--Hosannah in the highest!"

Nayler and his followers entered Bristol in a procession similar to the
one just described. We are told that on this particular day in the year of
grace 1656, when he visited the city of Bristol, rain was falling, and the
roads were deep with mud, but neither mud nor rain could check the ardour
of himself and disciples, and they sang hymns of praise. They first wended
their steps to the High Cross, and then to the White Hart, Broad Street,
where a couple of Quakers were staying. The local magistrates were soon on
the alert, and had the party apprehended and cast into prison. After being
examined by Bristol magistrates, Nayler and his followers were sent to
London to be examined before Parliament. His examination and the debate on
it occupied many days, and the members finally resolved "that James
Nayler was guilty of horrid blasphemy, and that he was a grand impostor
and seducer of the people"; and his sentence was, "that he should be set
on the pillory, in the Palace Yard, Westminster, during the space of two
hours, on Thursday next, and be whipped by the hangman through the streets
from Westminster to the Old Exchange, London; and there, likewise, he
should be set on the pillory, with his head in the pillory, for the space
of two hours, between the hours of eleven and one, on Saturday next, in
each place wearing a paper containing an inscription of his crimes; and
that at the Old Exchange his tongue should be bored through with a hot
iron, and that he should be there also stigmatised in the forehead with
the letter B; and that he should be afterwards sent to Bristol, to be
conveyed in and through the city on horseback, with his face backwards,
and there also should be whipped the next market-day after he came
thither; and that thence he should be committed to prison in Bridewell,
London, and there be restrained from the society of all people, and there
to labour hard till he should be released by Parliament; and during that
time he should be debarred the use of pen, ink, and paper, and he should
have no relief but what he earned by his daily labour." This terrible
sentence was duly carried out, although Parliament and Cromwell were
petitioned to mitigate the punishment. During his imprisonment he wrote
his recantations in letters addressed to the Quakers. After being confined
for two years he was set at liberty, and repaired to Bristol, and at a
public meeting made a confession of his offence and fall. His address
moved nearly all present to tears. The Quakers once more received him back
to their Society.

His end came in the year 1660. In that year he left London for Wakefield,
but failed to reach it. At Holm, near King's Rippon, Huntingdonshire, one
night he was bound and robbed, and left in a field, where he was found by
a countryman. He was removed to a house at Holm and every attention paid
to him, but he soon died from the results of the rough treatment he had
received at the hands of the highwaymen.

A Biographical Romance.

Swan's Strange Story.

In the olden days the misfortunes of William Swan frequently formed the
topic of conversation amongst friends, who gathered round the fireside in
the homes on the wild wolds of Yorkshire, where he spent some years of his
disappointed life. The full details of his career have been lost in the
lapse of time; never, to our knowledge, have they been committed to paper,
but sufficient particulars may be brought together to prove in his case
the truth of the old saying that "fact is stranger than fiction."

Nearly two centuries ago there was joy in Benwell Hall, near
Newcastle-on-Tyne, the stately mansion of Richard Swan, Esq., the occasion
of the rejoicing being the birth of an heir. The parents dreamed of a
bright future for their boy, and proudly predicted that he would, in a
worthy manner, perpetuate the name and fame of Swan. The happy
expectations of boyhood were not to be realised, for the young heir had
barely reached the age of nine years, when he was kidnapped from his
home, in order that another might inherit the wealth that by kinship
belonged to him. He was quietly shipped on board the "New Britannia" brig,
which formed part of the squadron under command of the famous Sir
Cloudesley Shovel. His position was that of a "powder monkey," and his
chief employment was to bring powder from the magazine to the gunners
during the naval engagements. On the 22nd of October, 1707, the fleet was
wrecked on the Scilly Isles, owing to the Admiral mistaking the rocks for
the sea-coast. No less than eight hundred brave men found a watery grave,
and several vessels were lost. Happily the ship in which Swan sailed
escaped destruction. Ill-fate, however, followed in its wake, for, shortly
afterwards, it was captured by an Algerine corsair, and Swan was sold to
the Moors as a slave. Four weary years were passed in Barbary. He gained
his liberty through the assistance of the Redeeming Friars, a noble body
of men who were the means of freeing thousands of Christians from
captivity. Many benevolent persons left large sums of money for redeeming
their fellow countrymen from bondage, and this money was expended
judiciously through the agency of the Friars.

Swan had not the good fortune to reach his home in safety. He was again
taken prisoner, and sold once more into slavery, this time to an English
planter in South Carolina. Here his sufferings were terrible. He toiled
with negroes from sunrise to sunset, the slave-drivers keeping them busy
at work in the cotton and sugar plantations by means of the lash. Managing
to escape, he landed, after an exile of twenty years, on his native shore
in 1726, and speedily made his way to Newcastle-on-Tyne. His father's
footman, Thomas Chance, and his old nurse, Mrs. Gofton, identified him,
and he at once instituted a claim for the estate of his uncle, Alderman
Swan, Mayor of Hull, who had died and left property yielding an income of
£20,000 a year. His efforts proved unsuccessful, and the deep
disappointment broke his heart, his death occurring in 1736, at the age of
thirty-eight years.

Swan had married a Yorkshire woman called Jane Cole, of North Dalton, near
Driffield, by whom he had a son named William. The widowed mother told her
boy, as soon as he was able to understand, that he was the rightful heir
to vast estates, and encouraged him to persevere to obtain them. The
melancholy fate of her husband was not sufficient to crush her ardent
spirit. A lawyer at Driffield was consulted, and he advised that action be
taken. He undertook to conduct the case without payment until the estates
were obtained, beyond the sums for correspondence, court fees, etc. The
man, however, drained the poor fellow of every penny that he could
procure, and both mother and son denied themselves the necessaries of life
to keep up the constant demands of the solicitor. Months and years passed
without getting any satisfaction. Poor Mrs. Swan at last felt the case to
be hopeless, and the anxious waiting, with its disappointing results,
preyed so on her mind that she fell into ill-health and died. Speaking to
her son before her death, she said: "Oh, William, let this horrid plea
drop. Don't pay that man any more money. I feel that he would skin us both
alive. They are a bad set all these law men." William was young, and like
the majority of young people, hope was firmly fixed in his nature. He not
only devoted all his money to law, but bought a second-hand copy of
"Blackstone's Commentaries," and spent all his leisure time in studying
it, until he was complete master of the work. After the death of his
mother, he gave up house-keeping, and took lodgings with a widow, having
a daughter about twenty-four years of age. They became interested in his
case, and lent him money to carry on his suit. A rich uncle had left the
girl a few hundred pounds. The young couple were brought into sympathy
with each other, which ripened into mutual affection, and in a short time,
with the consent freely given of the mother, they were married. Shortly
after the wedding it transpired that the attorney at Driffield had been
cheating his client, and instead of using the hard-earned money of William
Swan to gain his estates, he had spent it in dissipation, and was a ruined

Swan proceeded to London, and consulted another lawyer. This man advised
an action which swallowed up the wife's small fortune, without getting
them one step nearer obtaining the estate. Trouble after trouble came upon
William. His heart was almost crushed, but he continued the action to the
best of his ability. His wife begged of him to leave law alone, to return
to their Yorkshire home, live by their industry, and give up all thoughts
of the property. He refused to act upon her good advice. He got into debt,
and was committed to the Fleet prison on his inability to pay. Here ill
luck still followed him, for he caught the jail fever. In his sickness his
devoted wife got permission to visit him, and bring him some delicacies.
She, alas, caught the fever, and in a few days died. He recovered, but the
death of his loving helpmate was almost too much for him. She had endured
much for his sake, but never by word or deed showed regret at becoming his
wife. Shortly afterwards a jail delivery enabled him to leave prison. His
illness rendered him so weak that he could hardly walk. He obtained
lodgings in an obscure lane or alley near Chiswell Street, and afterwards
was found dead in bed. It is believed that his remains were buried in a
pauper's grave.

Short Letters.

The shortest letters on record are two exchanged between a couple of
members of the Society of Friends. One of them, wishing to learn if a
correspondent in a distant town had any news to communicate, posted to him
a quarto sheet of paper, on which nothing but a note of interrogation was
written, thus: ? (meaning, "what news?") He received in reply, by next
post, a blank sheet of paper, indicating that there was nothing to relate.

Some of the best of brief letters have been penned by members of the
dramatic profession. The following are good specimens. A tradesman made
application to Mordaunt, the player, for payment of an account, as

    "Sir,--Your bill having been standing a very long time, I beg to have
    it settled forthwith.

      Yours, etc.,
        J. Thwaites."

Said the comedian in reply:--

    "Sir,--When your bill is tired of _standing_, it is welcome to sit

      Yours, etc.,
        T. H. M."

The next letters passed between Samuel Foote, the famous actor, and his
unfortunate mother:--

    "Dear Sam,--I am in prison for debt; come and assist your loving

      E. Foote."

His answer was almost as brief, certainly as pathetic:--

    "Dear Mother,--So am I, which prevents his duty being paid to his
    loving mother by her affectionate son.

      Sam Foote."

    "P.S.--I have sent my attorney to assist you; in the meantime let us
    hope for better days."

Quin had a misunderstanding with Rich, the manager of Covent Garden
Theatre, which resulted in the former leaving in an unceremonious manner.
He soon regretted the step that he had taken, and wrote to his old friend
and manager:--

    "I am at Bath.


Rich did not deem such a letter a sufficient apology for his unwarrantable
conduct, and thus replied to it:--

    "Stay there and be hanged.


The Rev. Sydney Smith, in answer to a friend who had forwarded a letter
asking him to sit for his portrait, to be executed by Landseer, the
gifted painter, whose pictures of dogs made him famous, sent the following

    "Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?"

Genial Charles Lamb wrote an amusing letter to Haydon, the artist, in
answer to an invitation to pay him a visit. The odd address of Haydon was
the cause of the note, which ran as follows:--

    "My dear Haydon,--I will come, with pleasure, to 22, Lisson Grove,
    North, at Rossi's, half-way up, right hand side, if I can find it.

        C. Lamb."

    "20, Russell Court,
    Covent Garden, East,
    Half-way up, next the corner,
    Left-hand side."

A lady named Morris, of Plymouth, is recorded to have been the first of
her sex to venture under water in a diving bell.

She had wit as well as courage, and wrote to her father a rhyming epistle,

  "From a belle, my dear father, you've oft had a line,
  But not from a bell under water;
  Just now I can only assure you I'm thine,
  Your diving and dutiful daughter."

Frank Smedley, the author of "Frank Fairleigh," addressed to a lady friend
the following letter in verse:--

  "To Mrs. G. H. Virtue."

  "Thou better half of Virtue, gentle friend,
  Fairly to thee, I, Fairleigh, greeting send;
  Frankly I give what frankly you desire;
  You thus Frank Fairleigh's autograph acquire.
  To make assurance doubly sure, this medley
  Of Franks and Fairleighs this I sign--
                                  Frank Smedley."

A famous sporting character, named Captain O'Byrne, laid a wager about
Admiral Payne, and wrote to him as follows:--

    "Dear Payne,--Pray, were you bread to the sea?"

The witty Admiral made reply:--

    "Dear O'Byrne,--No; but the sea was bread to me."

It is said that King Charles the Second received the following letter:--

    "King Charles,--One of your subjects the other night robbed me of £40,
    for which I robbed another of the same sum, who has inhumanly sent me
    to Newgate, and he vows I shall be hanged; therefore, for your own
    sake, save my life, or you will lose one of the best seamen in your

      Jack Skifton."

His Majesty promptly answered the letter:--

    "Jack Skifton,--For this time I'll save thee from the gallows, but if
    hereafter thou art guilty of the like, I'll have thee hanged, though
    the best seaman in my navy.

      Charles Rex."

Here is a copy of a quaint letter sent to another king. It was written by
Dr. Schmidt, sacristan of the Cathedral at Berlin, to Frederick of

    "Sire,--I acquaint your Majesty, 1st, that they are wanting books of
    psalms for the Royal Family. I acquaint your Majesty, 2ndly, that
    there wants wood to warm the Royal seats. And I acquaint your Majesty,
    3rdly, that the balustrade next the river, behind the church, is
    become ruinous.

        Sacristan of the Cathedral."

In reply to the foregoing diverting communication the king wrote:--

    "I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, 1st, that they who want to sing songs
    may buy books. I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, 2ndly, that those who
    want to be kept warm may buy wood. I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt,
    3rdly, that I shall not trust any longer to the balustrade next to the
    river; and I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, 4thly, that I will not have
    any more correspondence with him.


The following phonographic curiosity is extracted from the _Times_. It was
written by an unsophisticated person to his physician, in Lancashire:--

    "Cer yole oblige me uf yole kum and ce me i hev a bad kowld an am hill
    in mi bow hills an hev lorst mi happetite.

      Roger Trooman."

One Highlander wrote to another the following smart letter:--

    "My dear Glengarry,--As soon as you can prove yourself to be my chief,
    I shall be ready to acknowledge you. In the meantime

      I am yours,

The Duke of Wellington engaged an intelligent Scotch farmer, named Heriot,
to act as his private secretary.

"Walking in the city one day," says the Rev. Dr. Charles Rogers, "Mr.
Heriot met an old acquaintance from Scotland."

"Hallo! Heriot," said his friend, "what are you doing in London?"

"I am secretary to the Duke of Wellington," answered Heriot.

"You are nothing of the sort," said the Scotsman; "and I fear you're doing
little good, since you would impose upon me in this fashion."

Returning to Scotland, it occurred to Heriot's acquaintance that he would
write to the Duke, warning him that one Heriot "had been passing himself
off as his secretary."

He received the following reply:

    "Sir,--I am directed by the Duke of Wellington to acknowledge the
    receipt of your letter; and I am,

    Your obedient servant,

      J. Heriot,
        Private Secretary."

A captain being ordered with his regiment to the Cape, made application to
the Duke of Wellington for permission to try and arrange for a transfer to
another corps. The "Iron Duke" merely turned up his letter and wrote
"Sail or sell," and returned it to the applicant.

Mr. George Seton, who has devoted much attention to this theme, tells an
American story in which a brief letter holds a prominent place. He states
that "in 1693, the Rev. Stephen Mix made a journey to Northampton in
search of a wife. He arrived at the Rev. Solomon Stoddard's, and informed
him of the object of his visit. Mr. Stoddard introduced him to his six
daughters, and then retired. Addressing Mary, the eldest, Mr. Mix said
that he had lately settled at Wethersfield, was desirous of obtaining a
wife, and concluded by offering his heart and hand. The blushing damsel
replied that so important a proposal required time for consideration; and
accordingly Mr. Mix left the room in order to smoke a pipe with her
father, while she took the case to 'avizandum.' On her answer being sent
for, she requested further time for consideration; and it was agreed that
she should send her answer by letter to Wethersfield. In the course of a
few weeks, Mr. Mix received a reply, which was soon followed by the

    3rd November, 1693.

    Rev. Stephen Mix,--Yes.--Mary Stoddard."

We will bring to a close our examples of laconic letters with another
specimen from the other side of the Atlantic. A notable dark day at
Boston, on the 19th March, 1790, induced a lady to write to Dr. Byles, an
eccentric but clever notability, the following note:--

    "Dear Doctor,--How do you account for this darkness?"

He simply said:--

    "Dear Madam,--I am as much in the dark as you are."



  Ainsworth, W. H., 88

  Alfreton, staked at Cards, 107

  American Novelists, 65

  Andersen, H. C., 20, 68

  Andrews, Henry, 206-212

  _Argosy_, 29

  Arnold, Sir Edwin, 23

  Austen, Jane, 67

  Appleby, 215

  Bacchanalian toasts, 124

  Balloon Tytler, 12

  Balzac, 14-16

  Barnes, editor of _The Times_, 54

  Beaconsfield, Earl of, 59-60

  Bells, Rhymes on, 104, 106

  Benwell Hall, 222

  Beresford, James, 68

  Beverley, 32, 101

  Bills of Fare, 114, 115-116

  Biographical Romance: Swan's Strange Story, 222-227

  _Blackwood's Magazine_, 13

  Blair's "Sermons," 72

  Bloomfield, Robert, 73, 81

  Bolas Magna, 201

  Books, Southey's love of, 19

  Boswell, 7

  Braddon, Miss, 31-34

  Bradstreet, Anne, 143-148

  Brewer, Dr., 57-58

  Briscoe, J. Potter, on Miller's Works, 196-198

  Bristol, Procession of Nayler at, 219

  Brooks, Henry M., 133

  Brontë, Charlotte, 69-71

  Browning, Robert, 64

  Buchan's "Domestic Medicine," 72

  Burleigh, Lord of, 199

  Burns, Robert, 11, 91, 92, 98, 116-118

  Butler, author of "Hudibras," 77-78

  Butler, Professor, on Scrap-books, 131-133

  Byron, Lord, 20, 50, 51, 73, 82, 84, 85

  Campbell, Thomas, 55

  Cards, 107

  Carlyle, T., 2-3, 16

  Catherine, Spelling of, 150-151

  Cecil, Henry, 199

  Celebrated Songs of Scotland, 11

  Chalk, Lines on, 95

  _Chambers's Journal_, 34

  Charles II., letter to, 231

  Chepstow, 219

  Christian's View of Death, 171

  Civil War, 213

  Common Place-Book, Sala's, 38-41

  Compiler of "Old Moore's Almanac": Henry Andrews, 206-212

  _Cornhill Magazine_, 25, 34

  Cornwall, Barry, 21

  Cooper, Thomas, 187

  Cottage Countess, The, 199-205

  Cowper, 81

  Crabbe, 51-52

  Curious American Old-Time Gleanings, 131-142

  Curiosities of the Lottery, 139-140

  Days of the Spinning Wheel, 140

  Daudet, A., 28-29

  "Declined with Thanks," 67-75

  Derbyshire rhymes, 100, 102, 106, 107, 108

  De Quincey, 1

  Dickens, Charles, 26-27, 58

  Dictionary, Johnson's, how compiled, 4-7

  Diving bell, 230

  Dress _v._ Dinner, 92

  Duck, Stephen, 79-80

  Duel, 85

  Ducking stool, 137

  Earliest American Poetess: Anne Bradstreet, 143-148

  Ears cropped, 136, 137

  Earnings of Authors, 43-66

  East Ardsley, 213

  Edgeworth, Miss, 21

  Editor's poverty, 9

  Elegy written in a country churchyard, 45-46

  Eliot, George, 27, 62-63

  "Encyclopædia Britannica," 7-12

  English Folk Rhymes, 100-109

  Epigrams on Authors, 76-89

  Fergusson, Robert, 90

  Fielding, 48

  Fisherman's Funeral, The, 182

  Flowers of the Forest, 161

  Foote, S., 229

  Fox, Geo., 214

  French Epigrams, 76

  Frieston, 206

  Gallows, 136

  Gay, 46

  German Epigrams, 76

  Gibbon, 56

  Glazier's Toast, 129

  Globe Tavern, Dumfries, 98

  Gloucestershire Rhyme, 108

  Goldsmith, 46-47

  Gordon Riots, 80

  Gore, Mrs., 17-18

  Grant's Memoirs, 66

  Greek Epigrams, 76

  Gray, 21, 45-46

  Greengrocer's Toast, 129

  "Guide to Science," 57

  Hadden, J. Cuthbert, 64

  Hamerton, P. G., 35, 36

  Hall, Dr. Spencer T., 188

  Harte, Bret, 65

  Hatter's Toast, 129

  Hayley, 48

  Hedon, 101

  Historical value of newspapers, 131

  Historical works, 56-57

  Holderness, In, 184

  Homer, 76-77

  Hood, E. P., 88

  Hook, Theodore, 83, 85

  Hull, Stage, Miss Braddon on, 31;
    Rhyme, 103;
    Shakespearean Festival, 111;
    Burns' Club, 116-118;
    Literary Club, 118-119;
    Mrs. Jno. Hunter born at, 160

  Hung in chains, 138

  Humour in prison, 138-139

  Hunter, Dr. John, 162-165

  Hunter, Mrs. John, 160-175

  Inn rhymes, 94, 95, 96, 98

  "Jane Eyre," 69

  Jeffrey, Lord, 85

  Johnson, Dr. S., 4-7, 43, 46, 47

  Keats, 25

  Keble's "Christian Year," 73-74

  Kentish Rhymes, 108

  Kidnapping, 222

  Knocking of feet in Churches, 135

  Lady Mayoress of York, 103

  Laidlow, William, 13

  Lake Poets, 81

  Lamb, Charles, 230

  Lancashire rhymes 105, 107

  Lang, Andrew, 41-42

  Leechfield, 102

  Lingard's History of England, 56

  Lincolnshire rhymes, 103, 104, 105, 106

  London rhyme, 103

  Longfellow, 63-64

  Lord Mayors of York, 103

  Lost with all Hands, 180

  Lotteries, 139-140

  Lowell, J. R., 65

  Loyal and Patriotic Toasts, 121-122

  Ludicrous blunders, 74

  Lytton, Bulwer, 59, 89

  Macaulay, Lord, 56-57

  Mansfield, Lord, 80-81

  Martineau, Miss, 16

  Masonic Toasts, 124

  Miscellaneous Toasts, 127

  Miller, A., 6

  Miller, Joe, 80

  Miller, Thomas, 186-198

  Milton, John, 44;
    epigram on, 45

  Monument in Greyfriars' to Mary Pyper, 175

  Moore, Francis, 212

  Moore, Thomas, 52-54, 85, 86

  Mordaunt, 228

  Musicians' Toasts, 128-129

  My Mother bids me bind my Hair, 161

  Myton Rhyme, 103

  Naval and Military Toasts, 122-123

  Nayler, James, the Mad Quaker, 213-221

  New England Sunday, 133

  Newington Church, 105

  Newton, Sir Isaac, 78

  Norfolk rhymes, 101

  Norwich rhyme, 102

  Nottingham Public Library, Miller's books in, 196-198

  Old Fountain, The, 192

  Old Moore's Almanac, 206-212

  Olden Times Series, by Henry M. Brooks, 133-142

  Oliphant, Mrs., 50

  On seeing two little girls present a flower to a dying person, 173

  Ouida, 63

  "Paradise Lost," 44

  Pawnbroker's Toast, 129

  Payn, James, 34-35, 60

  Playful Poet: Miss Catherine Fanshawe, 149-159

  Playing at cards for towns, 107

  Phillips, Sir Richard, 73

  Phonographic curiosity, 232

  Pillory, 136;
    Nayler in the, 220

  Poem in imitation of Wordsworth, 151

  Poet and Novelist of the People: Thomas Miller, 186-198

  Poet of the Fisher-Folk: Mrs. Susan K. Phillips, 176-185

  Poet of the Poor: Mary Pyper, 167-175

  Poetical Graces, 90-93

  Poetry of Toast Lists and Menu Cards, 110-119

  Poetry on Panes, 94-99

  Political Toasts, 126

  Pope, 46, 78

  Popular Song Writer: Mrs. John Hunter, 160-175

  Prayer by proxy, 92

  Prescott, 72

  Printer's troubled by authors, 16

  Professional Toasts, 128

  Proud Preston, 105

  Punning Toasts, 125

  Purlwell Hall, 97

  Pyper, Mary, 167-175

  Quakers punished, 137;
    Mad Quaker, 213-221

  Quin, 229

  Rabbits, Grace on, 27

  Reade, Charles, 27-28

  Redeeming Friars, 223

  Rich, 229

  Richardson, Professor C. F., 146

  Richter, J. P., 2-3

  Riddle on the letter H., 153-154

  Rhyming grants of land, 100-101

  Robertson's "History of Scotland," 56

  "Robinson Crusoe," 67

  Rose, Sir George, 87

  Roxburghe Club, 127-128

  Royston, 208

  Ruskin, John, 63

  Sala, G. A., 36-41

  Sandon, rhyme at, 95

  Scrap-books, 131-133

  Scarborough rhymes, 109

  Schmidt, 231

  Schoolmaster's Toasts, 128

  School books, 55

  Scolds, punished, 137

  Scott, Sir Walter, 12-13, 48-50, 73, 82-83

  _Scots' Magazine_, 8

  Selling bells, Rhymes on, 104

  Sentimental Toasts, 126

  Servant of God, 172

  Seymour, Digby, 87

  Shakespeare's fortune, 44

  Shakespearean Quotations, 111-115

  Shelley, 22

  Shoemaker's Toast, 129

  Short Letters, 228-235

  Slave-trade, 140-142

  Sleeping in meeting-house, Punishment for, 135

  Smedley, F., 230

  Smellie, William, 7-8

  Smith, Albert, 86

  Smith, Sydney, 229

  Smollett, 56

  Somerville, Mrs., 21

  Somerset rhymes, 103

  Southey, 19-20, 21, 82

  Spires of Churches, 106

  Sporting Toasts, 125

  St Andrews' University, 90

  Sterne, 71

  Stoves, introduction into churches, 134

  Stowe, Mrs., 71

  Strange and curious punishments, 135

  Sunday in New England, 133

  Swan's Strange Story, 222-227

  Swift, Dean, 79

  Tennyson, Lord, 14, 64, 118-119, 199

  Tercentenary Banquet at Stratford-on-Avon, 114

  Thackeray, W. M, 27, 58, 87

  Theodore, King of Corsica, 78

  Thompson, Town Clerk of Hull, 87-88

  _Times, The_, editorship refused by Southey, 19

  Toasts and Toasting, 120-130

  Tongue bored with a hot iron, 220

  Travelling on Sunday, 133

  Trollope, Mrs, 18-19

  Trollope, A., 1, 24-25, 60-62

  Trollope, T. A., 18

  Tytler, Joseph, 8-12

  Ugley, rhyme on, 106

  Vegetarian graces, 93

  "Vicar of Wakefield," 46

  "Vice Versa," 72

  Vyse's Spelling-Book, 55

  Wakefield, 213, 214

  Warner, Miss, 71

  Warren, Samuel, 68, 87-88

  Waterloo, 83-84

  Weather rhymes, 108

  Wellington, Secretary to the Duke of, 233

  Wesley, Rev. S., 93

  Whipping, 135, 220

  Whitby Bells, 185

  White, H. K., 81

  Wilberforce, Bishop, 26

  Wilson, Professor, 13-14

  Wood, Mrs. Henry, 29-31

  Worcestershire Rhymes, 109

  Wolfe, Charles, 74-75

  Words, meaning of, 6

  Wordsworth, W., 22-23, 82

  York Theatre, 96

  Yorkshire pane rhymes, 94, 95, 96, 97;
    Rhymes, 103-109;
    Poets, 176.


[1] He was thirty years of age.

[2] The Royal Institution where the Rev. Sydney Smith was reading lectures
on moral philosophy. The particular lecture alluded to in the above ode
was "The Sublime."

[3] A fashionable milliner.

"Mr. Andrews' books are always interesting."--_Church Bells._

"No student of Mr. Andrews' books can be a dull after-dinner speaker, for
his writings are full of curious out-of-the-way information and good
stories."--_Birmingham Daily Gazette._

England in the Days of Old.


_Demy 8vo., 7s. 6d. Numerous Illustrations._

This volume is one of unusual interest and value to the lover of olden
days and ways, and can hardly fail to interest and instruct the reader. It
recalls many forgotten episodes, scenes, characters, manners, customs,
etc., in the social and domestic life of England.

CONTENTS:--When Wigs were Worn--Powdering the Hair--Men Wearing
Muffs--Concerning Corporation Customs--Bribes for the Palate--Rebel Heads
on City Gates--Burial at Cross Roads--Detaining the Dead for Debt--A
Nobleman's Household in Tudor Times--Bread and Baking in Bygone
Days--Arise, Mistress, Arise!--The Turnspit--A Gossip about the
Goose--Bells as Time-Tellers--The Age of Snuffing--State
Lotteries--Bear-Baiting--Morris Dancers--The Folk-Lore of Midsummer
Eve--Harvest Home--Curious Charities--An Old-Time Chronicler.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS:--The House of Commons in the time of Sir Robert
Walpole--Egyptian Wig--The Earl of Albemarle--Campaign Wig--Periwig with
Tail--Ramillie-Wig--Pig-tail Wig--Bag-Wig--Archbishop
Tilotson--Heart-Breakers--A Barber's Shop in the time of Queen
Elizabeth--With and Without a Wig--Stealing a Wig--Man with Muff,
1693--Burying the Mace at Nottingham--The Lord Mayor of York escorting
Princess Margaret--The Mayor of Wycombe going to the Guildhall--Woman
wearing a Scold's Bridle--The Brank--Andrew Marvell--Old London Bridge,
shewing heads of rebels on the gate--Axe, Block, and Executioner's
Mask--Margaret Roper taking leave of her father, Sir Thomas More--Rebel
Heads, from a print published in 1746--Temple Bar in Dr. Johnson's
time--Micklegate Bar, York--Clock, Hampton Court Palace--Drawing a Lottery
in the Guildhall, 1751--Advertising the Last State Lottery--Partaking of
the Pungent Pinch--Morris Dance, from a painted window at Betley--Morris
Dance, temp. James I.--A Whitsun Morris Dance--Bear Garden, or Hope
Theatre, 1647--The Globe Theatre, temp. Elizabeth--Plan of Bankside early
in the Seventeenth Century--John Stow's Monument.

A carefully prepared Index enables the reader to refer to the varied and
interesting contents of the book.

"A very attractive and informing book."--_Birmingham Daily Gazette._

"Mr. Andrews has the true art of narration, and contrives to give us the
results of his learning with considerable freshness of style, whilst his
subjects are always interesting and picturesque."--_Manchester Courier._

"The book is of unusual interest."--_Eastern Morning News._

"Of the many clever books which Mr. Andrews has written none does him
greater credit than "England in the Days of Old," and none will be read
with greater profit."--_Northern Gazette._

"Valuable and interesting."--_The Times._

"Readable as well as instructive."--_The Globe._

"A valuable addition to any library."--_Derbyshire Times._

The Bygone Series.

In this series the following volumes are included, and issued at 7s. 6d.
each. Demy 8vo, cloth gilt.

These books have been favourably reviewed in the leading critical journals
of England and America.

Carefully written articles by recognised authorities are included on
history, castles, abbeys, biography, romantic episodes, legendary lore,
traditional stories, curious customs, folk-lore, etc., etc.

The works are illustrated by eminent artists, and by the reproduction of
quaint pictures of the olden time.

  BYGONE BERKSHIRE, edited by Rev. P. H. Ditchfield, M.A., F.S.A.
  BYGONE CHESHIRE, edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE DEVONSHIRE, by the Rev. Hilderic Friend.
  BYGONE DURHAM, edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE HERTFORDSHIRE, edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE LEICESTERSHIRE, edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE LINCOLNSHIRE (2 vols), edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE NORFOLK, edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE NORTHUMBERLAND, edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE NOTTINGHAMSHIRE, by William Stevenson.
  BYGONE SCOTLAND, by David Maxwell, _C.E._
  BYGONE SOMERSETSHIRE, edited by Cuming Walters.
  BYGONE SOUTHWARK, by Mrs. E. Boger.
  BYGONE SUFFOLK, edited by Cuming Walters.
  BYGONE SURREY, edited by George Clinch and S. W. Kershaw, F.S.A.
  BYGONE SUSSEX, by W. E. A. Axon.
  BYGONE WARWICKSHIRE, edited by William Andrews.
  BYGONE YORKSHIRE, edited by William Andrews.

The Church Treasury of History, Custom, Folk-Lore, etc.


_Demy 8vo., 7s. 6d. Numerous Illustrations._

CONTENTS:--Stave-Kirks--Curious Churches of Cornwall--Holy Wells--Hermits
and Hermit Cells--Church Wakes--Fortified Church Towers--The Knight
Templars: their Churches and their Privileges--English Medieval
Pilgrimages--Pilgrims' Signs--Human Skin on Church Doors--Animals of the
Church in Wood, Stone, and Bronze--Queries in Stones--Pictures in
Churches--Flowers and the Rites of the Church--Ghost Layers and Ghost
Laying--Church Walks--Westminster Wax-Works--Index. Numerous

"It is a work that will prove interesting to the clergy and churchmen
generally, and to all others who have an antiquarian turn of mind, or like
to be regaled occasionally by reading old-world customs and
anecdotes."--_Church Family Newspaper._

"Mr. Andrews has given us some excellent volumes of Church lore, but none
quite so good as this. The subjects are well chosen. They are treated
brightly and with considerable detail, and they are well illustrated....
Mr. Andrews is himself responsible for some of the most interesting
papers, but all his helpers have caught his own spirit, and the result is
a volume full of information well and pleasantly put."--_London Quarterly

"Those who seek information regarding curious and quaint relics or customs
will find much to interest them in this book. The illustrations are
good."--_Publishers' Circular._

"An excellent and entertaining book."--_Newcastle Daily Leader._

"The book will be welcome to every lover of archæological
lore."--_Liverpool Daily Post._

"The volume is of a most informing and suggestive character, abounding in
facts not easy of access to the ordinary reader, and enhanced with
illustrations of a high order of merit, and extremely
numerous."--_Birmingham Daily Gazette._

"The contents of the volume are very good."--_Leeds Mercury._

"The volume is sure to meet with a cordial reception."--_Manchester

"A fascinating book."--_Stockport Advertiser._

"Mr. Andrews has brought together much curious matter."--_Manchester

"The book is a very readable one, and will receive a hearty
welcome."--_Herts. Advertiser._

"Mr. William Andrews has been able to give us a very acceptable and useful
addition to the books which deal with the curiosities of Church lore, and
for this deserves our hearty thanks. The manner in which the book is
printed and illustrated also commands our admiration."--_Norfolk

Antiquities and Curiosities of the Church.


_Demy 8vo., 7s. 6d. Numerous Illustrations._

CONTENTS:--Church History and Historians--Supernatural Interference in
Church Building--Ecclesiastical Symbolism in Architecture--Acoustic
Jars--Crypts--Heathen Customs at Christian Feasts--Fish and
Fasting--Shrove-tide and Lenten Customs--Wearing Hats in Church--The Stool
of Repentance--Cursing by Bell, Book, and Candle--Pulpits--Church
Windows--Alms-Boxes and Alms-Dishes--Old Collecting
Boxes--Gargoyles--Curious Vanes--People and Steeple
Rhymes--Sun-Dials--Jack of the Clock-House--Games in Churchyards--Circular
Churchyards--Church and Churchyard Charms and Cures--Yew Trees in

"A very entertaining work."--_Leeds Mercury._

"A well-printed, handsome, and profusely illustrated work."--_Norfolk

"There is much curious and interesting reading in this popular volume,
which moreover has a useful index."--_Glasgow Herald._

"The contents of the volume is exceptionally good reading, and crowded
with out-of-the way, useful, and well selected information on a subject
which has an undying interest."--_Birmingham Mercury._

"In concluding this notice it is only the merest justice to add that every
page of it abounds with rare and often amusing information, drawn from the
most accredited sources. It also abounds with illustrations of our old
English authors, and it is likely to prove welcome not only to the
Churchman, but to the student of folk-lore and of poetical
literature."--_Morning Post._

"We can recommend this volume to all who are interested in the notable and
curious things that relate to churches and public worship in this and
other countries."--_Newcastle Daily Journal._

"It is very handsomely got up and admirably printed, the letterpress being
beautifully clear."--_Lincoln Mercury._

"The book is well indexed."--_Daily Chronicle._

"By delegating certain topics to those most capable of treating them, the
editor has the satisfaction of presenting the best available information
in a very attractive manner."--_Dundee Advertiser._

"It must not be supposed that the book is of interest only to Churchmen,
although primarily so, for it treats in such a skilful and instructive
manner with ancient manners and customs as to make it an invaluable book
of reference to all who are concerned in the seductive study of
antiquarian subjects."--_Chester Courant._

A Book About Bells.


Author of the "Historic Dress of the Clergy," etc.

_Crown, cloth extra 6s._

CONTENTS:--Invention of Bells--Bell Founding and Bell Founders--Dates and
Names of Bells--The Decoration of Bells--Some Noteworthy Bells--The Loss
of Old Bells--Towers and Campaniles--Bell-Ringing and Bell-Ringers--The
Church-Going Bell--Bells at Christian Festivals and Fasts--The Epochs of
Man's Life Marked by the Bells--The Blessings and the Cursings of the
Bells--Bells as Time-Markers--Secular Uses of Church and other
Bells--Small Bells, Secular and Sacred--Carillons--Belfry Rhymes and
Legends--Index of Subjects, Index of Places.


"A most useful and interesting book.... All who are interested in bells
will, we feel confident, read it with pleasure and profit."--_Church
Family Newspaper._

"A pleasing, graceful, and scholarly book.... A handsome volume which will
be prized by the antiquary, and can be perused with delight and advantage
by the general reader."--_Notes and Queries._

"'A Book About Bells' can be heartily commended."--_Pall Mall Gazette._

"An excellent and entertaining book, which we commend to the attention not
only of those who are specially interested in the subject of bells, but to
all lovers of quaint archæological lore."--_Glasgow Herald._

"The book is well printed and artistic in form."--_Manchester Courier._

"'A Book About Bells' is destined to be the work of reference on the
subject, and it ought to find a home on the shelves of every
library."--_Northern Gazette._

"The task Mr. Tyack has set himself, he has carried out admirably, and
throughout care and patient research are apparent."--_Lynn News._

"We heartily recommend our readers to procure this volume."--_The

"An entertaining work."--_Yorkshire Post._

"'A Book About Bells' will interest almost everyone. Antiquaries will find
in it an immense store of information: but the general reader will equally
feel that it is a book well worth reading from beginning to end."--_The
News_, Edited by the Rev. Charles Bullock, B.D.

"An excellent work."--_Stockton Herald._

"It is a well-written work, and it is sure to be popular."--_Hull
Christian Voice._

"Covers the whole field of bell-lore."--_Scotsman._

"Most interesting and finely illustrated."--_Birmingham Daily Gazette._

Historic Dress of the Clergy.


Author of "The Cross in Ritual, Architecture, and Art."

_Crown, cloth extra, 3s. 6d._

The work contains thirty-three illustrations from ancient monuments, rare
manuscripts, and other sources.

"A very painstaking and very valuable volume on a subject which is just
now attracting much attention. Mr. Tyack has collected a large amount of
information from sources not available to the unlearned, and has put
together his materials in an attractive way. The book deserves and is sure
to meet with a wide circulation."--_Daily Chronicle._

"This book is written with great care, and with an evident knowledge of
history. It is well worth the study of all who wish to be better informed
upon a subject which the author states in his preface gives evident signs
of a lively and growing interest."--_Manchester Courier._

"Those who are interested in the Dress of the Clergy will find full
information gathered together here, and set forth in a lucid and scholarly
way."--_Glasgow Herald._

"We are glad to welcome yet another volume from the author of 'The Cross
in Ritual, Architecture, and Art.' His subject, chosen widely and carried
out comprehensively, makes this a valuable book of reference for all
classes. It is only the antiquary and the ecclesiologist who can devote
time and talents to research of this kind, and Mr. Tyack has done a real
and lasting service to the Church of England by collecting so much useful
and reliable information upon the dress of the clergy in all ages, and
offering it to the public in such a popular form. We do not hesitate to
recommend this volume as the most reliable and the most comprehensive
illustrated guide to the history and origin of the canonical vestments and
other dress worn by the clergy, whether ecclesiastical, academical, or
general, while the excellent work in typography and binding make it a
beautiful gift-book."--_Church Bells._

"A very lucid history of ecclesiastical vestments from Levitical times to
the present day."--_Pall Mall Gazette._

"The book can be recommended to the undoubtedly large class of persons who
are seeking information on this and kindred subjects."--_The Times._

"The work may be read either as pastime or for instruction, and is worthy
of a place in the permanent section of any library. The numerous
illustrations, extensive contents table and index, and beautiful
workmanship, both in typography and binding, are all features of
attraction and utility."--_Dundee Advertiser._

The Miracle Play in England,

An Account of the Early Religious Drama.


_Crown 8vo., 3s. 6d. Illustrated._

In bygone times the Miracle Play formed an important feature in the
religious life of England. To those taking an interest in the history of
the Church of England, this volume will prove useful. The author has given
long and careful study to this subject, and produced a reliable and
readable book, which can hardly fail to interest and instruct the reader.
It is a volume for general reading, and for a permanent place in the
reference library.

CONTENTS:--The Origin of Drama--The Beginnings of English Drama--The York
Plays--The Wakefield Plays--The Chester Plays--The Coventry Plays--Other
English Miracle Plays--The Production of a Miracle Play--The Scenery,
Properties, and Dresses--Appendix--The Order of the York Plays--Extract
from City Register of York, 1426--The Order of the Wakefield Plays--The
Order of the Chester Plays--The Order of the Grey Friars' Plays at
Coventry--A Miracle Play in a Puppet Show--Index.

"Mr. Clarke has chosen a most interesting subject, one that is attractive
alike to the student, the historian, and the general reader.... A most
interesting volume, and a number of quaint illustrations add to its
value."--_Birmingham Daily Gazette._

"The book should be useful to many."--_Manchester Guardian._

"An admirable work."--_Eastern Morning News._

"Mr. Sidney Clarke's concise monograph in 'The Miracle Play in England' is
another of the long and interesting series of antiquarian volumes for
popular reading issued by the same publishing house. The author briefly
sketches the rise and growth of the 'Miracle' or 'Mystery' play in Europe
and in England; and gives an account of the series or cycle of these
curious religious dramas--the forerunners of the modern secular
play--performed at York, Wakefield, Chester, Coventry, and other towns in
the middle ages. But his chief efforts are devoted to giving a sketch of
the manner of production, and the scenery, properties, and dresses of the
old miracle play, as drawn from the minute account books of the craft and
trade guilds and other authentic records of the period. Mr. Clarke has
gone to the best sources for his information, and the volume, illustrated
by quaint cuts, is an excellent compendium of information on a curious
byeway of literature and art."--_The Scotsman._

Legal Lore: Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.


_Demy 8vo., Cloth extra, 7s. 6d._

CONTENTS:--Bible Law--Sanctuaries--Trials in Superstitious Ages--On
Symbols--Law Under the Feudal System--The Manor and Manor Law--Ancient
Tenures--Laws of the Forest--Trial by Jury in Old Times--Barbarous
Punishments--Trials of Animals--Devices of the Sixteenth Century
Debtors--Laws Relating to the Gipsies--Commonwealth Law and
Lawyers--Cock-Fighting in Scotland--Cockieleerie Law--Fatal
Links--Post-Mortem Trials--Island Laws--The Little Inns of Court--Obiter.

"There are some very amusing and curious facts concerning law and lawyers.
We have read with much interest the articles on Sanctuaries, Trials in
Superstitious Ages, Ancient Tenures, Trials by Jury in Old Times,
Barbarous Punishments, and Trials of Animals, and can heartily recommend
the volume to those who wish for a few hours' profitable diversion in the
study of what may be called the light literature of the law."--_Daily

"Most amusing and instructive reading."--_The Scotsman._

"The contents of the volume are extremely entertaining, and convey not a
little information on ancient ideas and habits of life. While members of
the legal profession will turn to the work for incidents with which to
illustrate an argument or point a joke, laymen will enjoy its vivid
descriptions of old-fashioned proceedings and often semi-barbaric ideas to
obligation and rectitude."--_Dundee Advertiser._

"The subjects chosen are extremely interesting, and contain a quantity of
out-of-the-way and not easily accessible information.... Very tastefully
printed and bound."--_Birmingham Daily Gazette._

"The book is handsomely got up; the style throughout is popular and clear,
and the variety of its contents, and the individuality of the writers gave
an added charm to the work."--_Daily Free Press._

"The book is interesting both to the general reader and the
student."--_Cheshire Notes and Queries._

"Those who care only to be amused will find plenty of entertainment in
this volume, while those who regard it as a work of reference will rejoice
at the variety of material, and appreciate the careful indexing."--_Dundee

"Very interesting subjects, lucidly and charmingly written. The
versatility of the work assures for it a wide popularity."--_Northern

"A happy and useful addition to current literature."--_Norfolk Chronicle._

"The book is a very fascinating one, and it is specially interesting to
students of history as showing the vast changes which, by gradual course
of development have been brought about both in the principles and practice
of the law."--_The Evening Gazette._

Transcriber's Notes:

Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.

Punctuation has been corrected without note.

The following misprints have been corrected:
  "Thackerey" corrected to "Thackeray" (page 87)
  "improptu" corrected to "impromptu" (page 87)
  "access" corrected to "excess" (page 112)

Other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in spelling and
hyphenation have been retained from the original.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Literary Byways" ***

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