Stow, the antiquarian, suffered much in his old | age from the ailments that attacked him, and also from poverty. In the very absoluteness of his need, the poor old man determined to apply for relief to the country for which he had done so much. He got the formal consent of James I that he might go “a-begging" through thirty-six counties. To this effect a paper was regularly drawn up, signed and sealed by the king, addressed to "all and singular, archbishops, bishops, deans, and their officials, parsons, vicars, curates, and to all spiritual persons; and also to all justices of the peace, mayors, sheriffs, bailiffs, churchwardens, etc." The reasons for the issue of this grant are stated in the preamble: that Stow, as a citizen of London, had, "for the good of the commonwealth and posterity to come, employed all his industry and labour to commit to the history of chronicles all such things worthy of remembrance as from time to time happened within his whole realm, for the space of five-and-forty years, besides his great pains and charge in making his book, called his • Survey of London,' wherein he spent eight years in searching out of ancient records concerning antiquities both for London and Southwark." The grant concludes thus: "We wish and command you, and every of you, that at such time and times as the said John Stow, or his deputy, shall repair to any of your churches or other places, to ask and receive the charitable benevolence of our said subjects, quietly to permit and suffer them so to do; and you, the said parsons, etc., for the better stirring up of charitable devotion, deliberately to publish and declare the tenour of these letters patent unto our said subjects, exhorting them to extend their liberal contributions in so good and charitable a deed."

At times, the pecuniary affairs of William Penn were so deranged that he was afraid of his creditors. He contrived an aperture at his house in Norfolk Street, by which he could see any one at his door without being seen. A creditor having sent in his name, waited a long time for admission. "Will not your master see me?" said he at last, to the servant. 66 Friend," replied the domestic, "he has seen thee, but does not like thee."

On one occasion, when Mirabeau wanted cash, he wrote this letter to his father :

"I'm neither bird, nor am I fish,
Water or air is not my dish,

Some money quickly is what I wish,
My father Mirabeau."

To which his affectionate parent sent a reply:

"Take either element you wish,

Live with the birds, or with the fish;
To prison you may straightway go,
For what cares father Mirabeau."

Bishop Hall, during his latter days, suffered so much from poverty and harsh treatment, that they wrung from him a book of complaint, called "Hard Measure." At Bologna, in the University Library, is a manuscript of the "Images of Philostrates," in the handwriting of Michael Aspostolicus, a Greek refugee from Constantinople, bearing this inscription:- "The king of the poor of this world wrote this book for his bread." Ion Thorlakson, the translator of "Paradise Lost" into Icelandic,

composed the following lines, in allusion to his poverty: "Ever since I came into this world, I have been wedded to Poverty, who has now hugged me to her bosom these seventy winters save two; and whether we shall ever be separated here below is only known to Him who joined us together."*

66

In the early part of his career as an author, Marmontel translated Pope's "Rape of the Lock" into French, and sold it to a publisher for about fifteen pounds. Upon this sum he assures us that he subsisted for eight months. This nearness of circumstance was as nothing compared to that of Ulrick Von Hutten, one of the greatest writers Germany has produced, and one of the harbingers of the Reformation. He was, during part of his life, in the greatest distress. He begged his way through the country, knocking at the doors of peasants' huts to beg a piece of bread and shelter, and when denied, as he too often was, he had to sleep on the bare ground. He died when he was only thirty-six years old, in a lamentable plight. Zuinglius says, that "he left nothing of the slightest value. He had no books, no furniture, except a pen." Almost equal to Von Hatten, at least in respect to poverty, was Saint Simon, the author of "The Reorganization of European Society," etc. The Frenchman was so "pinched by poverty," that during the whole of a severe winter he denied himself fuel, in the hope of being enabled to defray the expenses of publication; nay, he often endured the pangs of hunger. For fifteen days," he writes, "I have lived upon bread and water, without a fire; I have even sold my clothes to defray the expenses of copying my work." One day his courage, resignation, and energy forsook him; he forgot his Creator, and attempted to terminate his life. He, however, recovered from the guilty attempt, and resumed his labours and his hopes. Tradition says that in Ben Jonson's last illness, King Charles sent him a small sum of money. "He sends me so miserable a donation," said the expiring satirist, "because I am poor and live in an alley; go back and tell him his soul lives in an alley." Ben told Drummond of Hawthornden that "the Irish having robbed Spenser's goods and burnt his house, and a little child new-born, he and his wife escaped; and after, he died for lack of bread in King Street, and refused twenty pieces sent to him by my lord of Essex, and said, 'He was sorry he had no time to spend them."" Cotton was hunted from place to place by importunate creditors, and at length died by his own hand in a prison; and Otway is said to have been choked with a piece of bread which he devoured in the rage of hunger.† At Bristol, Richard Savage was arrested for a small debt, and being unable to find bail, was thrown into prison. He was soon afterwards taken ill, and his condition not enabling him to procure medical assistance, he was found dead in his bed.

I have used Dr. Henderson's translation. When the Doctor saw Thorlakson, the whole of his annual income from the parishes of Bægisa and Backa did not exceed thirty-six dollars (about six pounds five shillings sterling), and even of this sum he had to give nearly one-half to a person who officiated for him in the latter

parish.

+ Whether this story be true or false, Otway was, beyond all doubt, miserably poor.

In Depping's "Reminiscences of a German's delicious honey. My hostess took me to see the Life in Paris," I have found the following anecdote bee-hives, of which there were thirty, arranged in of Llorente, the enlightened, talented, and perse- treble rows, in the midst of an inclosure, full of all cuted historiographer of the Inquisition: "Amongst kinds of sweet flowers, and backed by a row of the individuals whom chance threw into my way in beautiful lime trees. She told me that they sent Paris was Llorente. I frequently paid him a visit, | their honey to be sold at Vannes, where they could and found him to be an extremely well-read scholar. always obtain a good price for it. This seemed On one occasion I met him in the street, early in to be the only produce they disposed of, and the the morning; upon asking him where he was money obtained from it supplied the very few wants coming from, he replied, "I hired myself last night that could not be satisfied at home. to watch a dead man's body. How little did I dream, when a canon at Toledo, and a privy-beautiful old point lace, some made up in caps, and counsellor in Madrid, that I should ever be forced to earn my daily bread by mounting guard over a defunct Parisian !" Soon after this occurrence, poor Llorente was ordered to leave France. He had scarcely regained his native soil, when he fell a prey to wretchedness and destitution.

During the latter years of his life, the poet Camöens was compelled to wander through the streets, a wretched dependent on casual contribution. One friend alone remained to smooth his downward path, and guide his steps to the grave with gentleness and consolation. It was Antonio, his slave, a native of Java, who had accompanied Camöens to Europe, after having rescued him from the waves, when shipwrecked at the mouth of the Mecon. This faithful attendant was wont to seek alms throughout Lisbon, and at night shared the produce of the day with his poor and brokenhearted master. But his friendship was employed in vain: Camöens sank beneath the pressure of penury and disease, and died in an almshouse.

RAMBLES IN BRITTANY.

PART II.

INSTEAD of keeping to my original plan of going on to Nantes, and thence to Vannes, I changed my route, on learning from competent judges that there was nothing specially worth seeing at the former place. I therefore hired one of the open carriages of the country, which are used in the few journeys taken by the better class of farmers. It was drawn by a very sturdy and handsome Breton horse, with a driver in so quaint a costume that he could not have failed to cause great entertainment in more civilized countries. I found him, however, very intelligent, and we got on very well together, during the two days we spent on the journey. The distance between the two places is fifty-seven English miles. For those anxious for a more rapid mode of proceeding, there is a diligence daily between Dinan and Vanncs. Those to whom time is no object, I should advise to follow my route.

I wish I had time and space to describe the night I spent at Pont Guillamet, which will long remain in my memory, as one of the pleasantest recollections of my varied rambles; there was only the merest cabaret, in the way of an inn, but my pleasant driver took me to the farm-house of his brother, a perfect specimen of its kind, bearing great resemblance to some of the curious old farmhouses in Cornwall. Here I tasted some most

a

My hostess further showed me her treasures of

the rest put by till the marriage of the daughters, two blooming lasses of twelve and fourteen years. I put many questions to her respecting their mode of life, and she was quite ready to satisfy my curiosity.

I was much amused on my route by meeting, now and then, women riding astride like men. This mode certainly does not suit the dress of females; but habit is everything, and the Breton women look quite comfortable in this attitude.

About a mile from my pleasant sleeping place there are some ruins, which possess special interest to the English; as in the castle of Elven, our Henry VII was shut up for many years, with his uncle, the Earl of Pembroke, by Francis II, the then Duke of Brittany. It was after the battle of Tewkesbury that, endeavouring to escape, they were driven by a storm on what proved a most illfated coast to them. On landing, they were seized, and kept languishing in captivity for fifteen years. This castle, however, has other claims to attention, being one of the most admirably preserved speci mens of the fortresses of the middle ages in Brittany. Tradition tells us that it was built after the model of a Syrian castle.

The town of Vannes is situated at no considerable distance from the open sea. It is built at the extremity of a narrow creek, forming part of the Gulf of Morbihan. Vannes is distinguished, even in a greater degree than the other towns of Brittany I had visited, by that air of antiquity which is to me so interesting. The massive portals, the deeply projecting stories of the houses, the narrow streets, the sombre colouring, are all prominent features at Vannes; but, excepting this general attraction belonging to the place, there is not much to detain one there.

A very good diligence conveyed me from Vannes to Auray in twelve hours. This part of my journey was sufficiently interesting: but I had so many agreeable memories of the past, and such exciting anticipations of the future, to beguile the time, that it passed quickly away, and I found some amusement in watching, from my seat in the coupé, the changes of the horses, (some of them very handsome creatures,) and the odd proceedings of the conducteur, and in listening to the remarks of my two companions. One was an exceedingly pretty, gay French soubrette, (ladies' maid,) going to join some ladies at Auray, who had been delayed there by the illness of a former maid: her delight at meeting with an English lady, who could speak French, was very amusing to witness, and her questions, put with a pretty mixture of shyness

of the lines of granite I have mentioned gives the other vast blocks laid across to make the roof. It idea of a regiment of soldiers, and probably thus is fifty feet in length. There are four stones at formed in the minds of these superstitious and igno- each side, one at each end, and four for the rant peasants the legend I have related. As to the roof; the largest stone is twenty-four feet long, real origin of these masses, the most probable ver- and twenty-one feet broad, and nearly three fect sion seems to me that which states this widely ex- in depth. There is no sand-stone (the stone of tended area to have been a burial-place, formed on which these blocks are composed) in the neighthe site of some great battle. From whatever bourhood, and in the district where it is found, cause they may have been placed there, nothing it is very low down beneath the surface. Singular can lessen the wonder, almost amounting to awe, as this temple is, it wants to me the interest which the sight is so calculated to inspire; and of the wild and remarkable scene at Carnac; long after I had left Carnac far behind me, did my for all the accessories, that add so much to the mind continue to dwell with interest on the recol-effect of the remains at Carnac, are wholly wanting lection of the extraordinary scene. here.