crawling on him in the dark. He observes, that there is no reason to be given for these secret dislikes. He humorously attributes them to the doctrine of the transmigration of the soul; and as regarded himself, he supposed he had been a fly, before he came into his body, and that having been frequently persecuted with spiders, he still retained the dread of his old enemy. Sweete Marie! swiftlye comes the noone Yette there are eyes had deeper loved THE LACTEALS IN A MOLE. ¡ A curious observer of nature will be delighted to know, that the lacteal vessels are more visible in a mole, than in any animal whatever. The view, however, is not of long duration. These vessels are rendered visible by the mode of killing the animal, which is by a wire gin that compresses the thoracic duct, thereby preventing the ascent of the chyle upwards. The time of demonstration is about half an hour after death. This curious fact was unknown to anatomists, till mentioned by Dr. A. Hunter, in his volume of maxims on men and manners. LOUIS GONZAGA ΤΟ MARIE MANCINI. FLORENCE, 1649. Il cantar che nel anima si sente, Il piu ne sente l'alma, il men l'orecchio, 1 worshippe thee thou silverre starre, As thron'd amid the vault of blue, Rushes thy queenlye splendoure farre, O'er mountain top and vale of dewe. Yette more I love thy infante ray, As risinge from its easterne cave, With circlinge, fearfulle, fonde delaye, It seemes to kisse the crimsone wave. I love the proud and solemne sweepe Of harpe and trumpette's harmonye, Like swellinges of the midnighte deepe, Like anthemes of the opening skye. But lovelier to my heart the tone That dies along the twilighte's winge, Just heard, a silver sigh, and gone, As if a spiritte touch'd the stringe. POINTS OF CHARACTER. The late sir Robert Walpole was from his youth fond of field sports, and retained his attachment to them until prevented by the infirmities of age from their further enjoyment. He was accustomed to hunt in Richmond Park with a pack of beagles. Upon receiving a packet of letters, he usually opened that from his gamekeeper first; and in the pictures taken of him, he preferred being drawn in his sporting dress. A PRELATE. Bishop Juxon, who attended Charles I. on the scaffold, retired after the king's death to his own manor of Little Compton, in Gloucestershire, where, as Whitlocke tells us in his Memorials, "he much delighted in hunting, and kept a pack of good hounds, and had them so well ordered and hunted, chiefly by his own skill and direction, that they exceeded all other hounds in England for the pleasure and orderly hunting of them." A HUNTSMAN. Mr. Woolford, a sporting gentleman, as remarkable for politeness in the field as for the goodness of his fox-hounds, was one evening thus addressed by his huntsman: "An' please your honour, sir," twirling his cap and quid at the same time, "I should be glad to be excused going to-morrow to Woolford-wood, as I should like to go to see my poor wife buried." "I am sorry for thee, Tom," said his master," we can do one day without thee: she was an excellent wife." On the following morning, however, Tom was the first in the field." Heyday!" quoth Mr. W., " did not I give you leave to see the remains of your poor wife interred?" "Yes, your honour, but I thought as how we should have good sport, as it is a fine morning; so I desired our Dick, the dog-feeder, to see her earth'd.” collections of days gone, never to returnall these we may unhesitatingly deposit in this personification of deskretion. The very posture assumed at a desk bespeaks confidence and security. inclined over it, and the bosom leaning in The head gentle trustingness against this kind and patient friend. By this description I would present to the "mind's eye" of the reader a plain unostentatious piece of furniture, of too simple an exterior to be admitted any where than in the study-square in shape, mahogany, bound with brass at the corners, a plate of the same metal on the top, of just a sufficient size to contain one's own initials and those of the giver. I detest those finicking machines one finds wrapped up in an oil skin case in a drawing-room; made of rosewood, inlaid with silver, or mother-ofpearl, and lined with blue velvet. It seems like an insult to the friendly character of a desk, to dress him smartly, seat him in a fine apartment, and refuse to avail yourself of the amicable services he tenders you. The contents of these coxcombical acquaintances are seldom better than its fair owner's private journal, (which no one thinks worthy of perusal-herself of course excepted,) her album, and scrap-book, the honourable Mr. Somebody's poetical effusions, and the sentimental correspondence of some equally silly young lady, her dearest friend. Then there is the clerk's desk in a counting-house-there are no pleasant associations connected with that mercantile scaffolding, with its miniature balustrades at the top, partly intersected with accounts, bills, and papers of all sorts, (referring to business,) and surrounded by files clinging by their one hook. Above all this is seen the semicircular scalp of a brown wig, which, as it is raised to reply to your question, gradually discovers two eyes scowling at you from beneath a pair of glaring spectacles, a little querulous turned-up nose, and a mouth whose lines have become rigid with ill-humour, partly occasioned by a too sedentary life. Again, there is the pulpit desk, with its arrogant crimson cushion-telling a tale of clerical presumption. Lastly, there is the old bachelor's desk. (Nay, do not curl up the corners of your pretty mouths at me, sweet ladies-it may be worth while to take a peep at it-at least, I cannot prevail upon myself to omit it in this notice of desks.) It is of the plain and quiet description formerly mentioned, and very neatly and orderly ar ranged, both inside and out. The latter is his friends; and, perhaps, at the very back companion — my desk — Í render it my a courteous leave. WRITING DESKS. M. H. There is not any mention of writing-desks ages slanted so much, as to form an angle Topographiana. WILTS' LOCAL CUSTOM. DANCING ROUND THE HARROW. To the Editor. Dear sir,-I hand you the following authentic particulars which happened in the pleasant village of S**** n B****r, and gave rise to "dancing round the harrow" if worthy of being chronicled in the Table Book, they are yours. John Jones, not finding his lovesuit successful with his master's daughter, because her father, a farmer, rebuked him, took umbrage, threw down his whip on the "harrow" in the field, left the team, and, sans cérémonie, went to sea. The farmer and his daughter Nancy were variously affected by this circumstance."Comfortable letters " were hoped for, news was expected from some corner of the world, but no tidings arrived as to the fate or designs of honest John. Village gossips often talked of the poor lad. The farmer himself, who was a good sort of man, began to relent; for Nancy's cheeks were not so rosy as formerly; she was dull at milking time. Observers at church whispered,"How altered Nancy R* appears!" *** After a lapse of about six years appear ances change favourably. John returns from sea auspiciously-meets his Nancy with open arms-her father finds him disposed to make her happy-John requests forgiveness, and is pardoned-his steadiness and attachment are tried and approved→ and-suffice it to say-John and Nancy are married. He assists her father in the duties of the farm as his years decline, while she supplies the absence of her mother, buried in the family grave of the church-yard of her native village. **** As soon as the wedding took place, a "harrow" was brought on the grass-plot in the fore-close, when the villagers invited danced round it till daybreak. **** was This "dancing round the harrow kept on several anniversaries of the wedding-day; a young family and the old projector's decease occasioned its discontinuance; but, on each of these occasions, John does not forget to present, instead, a not less acceptable offering, a good supper to his workfolks in remembrance of his advance in life. Goat and Boots, August 3, 1827. I am, dear sir, For the Table Book. BAKEWELL, DERBYSHIRE. ANCIENT MONUMENTS AND INSCRIPTIONS IN THE CHURCH. Upon the tablet over the mural monuthe following inscription: ment in the chantry of the Holy Cross, is Godfrey Foljambe, Knight, and Avena his wife, (who afterwards married Richard de Greene, Knight,) Lord and Lady of the Manors of Hassop, Okebrook, Elton, Stanton, Darley, Overhall, and Lokhawe, founded this Chantry in honor of the Holy Cross, in the 39th year of the Reign of King Edward the 3rd, 1366. Godfrey died on Thursday next after the Feast of the Ascension of our Lord, in the 50th year of the reign of the same King; and Avena died on Saturday next after the Feast of the Nativity of the blessed Virgin Mary, in the 6th year of the reign of Richard 2nd, 1383. N. B. The Dates are taken from the Escheat Rolls, which contain the Inquisitum post mortem, 50th Edward 3. No. 24. In the Vestry, there is an effigy in alabaster, of sir Thomas Wendersley de Wendersley, who was mortally wounded at the battle of Shrewsbury, 4th Henry IV., 1403, and was buried at Bakewell, where formerly were several shields of the arms of his family carved in wood. (See Brailsford's "Monumental Inscriptions of Derbyshire.") Adjoining the vestry are several handners' families. some monuments of the Vernon and Man In the centre is the tomb or cenotaph of sir George Vernon, inscribed thus: Here lyeth Sir George Vernon, Knight, deceased, ye daye of Ano 156 and Dame Margaret his Wife, dowghter of Sr Gylbert Tayllboys, deceased the 156 daye of and also Dame Mawde bis Wyffe, dowghter to Sir Ralphe Langfoot, deceased the daye of Ano 1566. whose solles God p-don On the right is a monument to sir John Manners, with this inscription: Here lyeth Sir John Manners, of Haddon, Knt. Second Sonne of Thomas Erle of Rutland, who died the 4th of June, 1611, and Dorothy his Wife, one of the Dawghters and heires of Sir George Vernon, of Haddon, Knt. who deceased the 24th day of June, in the 26th yeere of the Rayne of Queene Elizabeth, 1584., To the right of the window, on a mural monument, is the following: Heere lyeth buryed John Manners, Gent". 3 Sone of Sir John Mañers, Knight, who dyed the 16th day of July, in the Yeere of our Lord God 1590, being of the Age of 14 yeeres. To the left is an elegant monument to sir John Maners, with this inscription : George Manners of Haddon, Knt. here awaits the resurrection of the just in Christ. He married Grace, second daughter of Henry Pierrepoint, Knt, who afterwards bore him 4 sons and 5 daughters, and lived with him in Holy Wedlock 30 years, she caused him to be buried with his forefathers, and then placed this monument at her own expence, as a perpetual Memorial of their conjugal faith, and she united the figure of his body with hers, having resolwed that their bones and ashes should be laid together. He died 23rd Ap1. 1623, aged 54-She died - - - aged Beneath this monument, on an alabaster grave-stone on the floor, are some figures engraved round them, with an inscription, now obliterated, and the arms of Eyre impaled with Mordaunt. Garrick Plays. No. XXX. [From a "Woman's a Weathercock," a Comedy, by Nathaniel Field, 1612.] False Mistress. Scudmore alone; having a letter in his hand from Bellafront, assuring him of her faith. Scud. If what I feel I could express in words, To banish sadness from all love for ever. Thy frothy sex, and in thy single self The whole creation-. Who's there ?-come in Nevill (entering.) What up already, Scudmore? Nev. What's this? a letter! sure it is not so- know You will not wrong my friendship, and your manners, To tempt me so. Nev. Not for the world, my friend. Scud. Nay, Sir, neither must you I leave you not in anger,-what d'ye mean?- Why, they concern not me: if they be ill, And dangerous, 'twould grieve me much to know them; If good, they be so, though I know them not: Of that near touch, which your assured love Scud. How sweetly doth your friendship play with mine, And with a simple subtlety steals my heart Out of my bosom ! by the holiest love That ever made a story, you are a man Nev. I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend. |