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It has not been the writer's happiness to be located amongst Quakers; but as a tradesman, he has not found wore honourable men of any religious persuation than the Friends; and will close this sketch with a brief notice of a worthy member of that respectable fraternity, which was registered in the Newcastle Chronicle about the period of the occurrance of the affair—November, 1829.
A Glove manufacturer in Hexham, a few days ago, received from a wholesale dealer in , a letter enclosing a bill, remitted in part payment of a debt due to his father, at the time of the merchant's failure, which took place in 1820 ; and accompanied with a promise to make up the whole deficiency, which was about one hundred pounds. This is the more to be admired, as it is the voluntary act of a bankrupt, out of whose estate two dividends had been paid soon after his failure, and nine years having elapsed, nothing more was expected. This exemplary tradesman is a member of the Society OF FRIENDS.
On hearing the Rev. D. Crosthwaite ask his congregation “ What Saint Paul lost by preaching Christianity to the Jews ?”
What Paul might lose we cannot see,
In so perverse a nation :
He'd lost - his congregation.
This epigram appeared in the Durham Chronicle, and is deserving of preservation for its wit, at which no one laughed more heartily than the worthy clergyman at whom it was aimed, and who often quoted it with great glee. So far however, from the late Rev. Daniel Crosthwaite of Houghton-le-Spring, being a bad preacher, he was one of the most effective that ever addressed a humble audience. His use of provincial terms, and proverbial expressions, might occasionally offend a refined ear, but he had the power of winning
“ The hearts and thoughts of simple men,” and will long be remembered as one, who turned many a sinner from the thraldom of satan to the liberty of the sons of God.
The Northumberland Life Boat.
ADDRESSED TO HENRY GREATHEAD, ESQ. THE INGENIOUS INVENTOR.
BY JOHN SHIELD.
IS night, and hark! the eastern blast
With fury blows upon the shore.
And angry billows madly roar!
The morn returns—still thunders roar
Loud blows the wind-the billows foam-
Or see again their much-lov'd home?
A shriek now mingles with the blast;
Fach sad forboding proves too true;
See, to the rigging clings the crew!
Thy sacred claims now, Pity, urge,
Now prompt to bold exploit the brave :
Intent the hapless crew to save ;
Blow on, blow on, ye ruthless winds,
And idly rage, thou troubled main,-
His much-lov'd friends and home again,
That name shall ever live renown'd,
Alike to Fame and Albion dear,
Whilst British tars the world revere ;
A NEW-YEAR'S SUPERSTITION.
EW-YEAR'S tide, has been the fertile occasion of many a goodly superstition, and time-worn observance. And in fruitful vale, village double-rowed, and brown moorland seclusion ; nay even within the vaunted precincts of the emporia of commerce-amid the “fumum et opes strepitumque Romae," such still resist every aggressive influence. The
radicle shoots retain their vitality long after the gigantic trunk has crumbled to its elements. One is deserving of record as the fragment of an original at once remote and vast, and for its ramified connection with various systems of the light “ that led astray."
To request a light on the morning of the New Year, is held by those retentive of old scruples, as a most portentous omen. Several, will not for any consideration, even allow a borrowed fire to proceed from their dwellings. And to justify their firm persuasion, they will adduce such connections of premises and conclusion, as the following. At a farm house, a careless servant, neglecting to perform the curfew duties to the fire on the old-year's night, had to be obliged to her neighbours, before it would kindle in the morning. Her master apprised of the fatal omission, predicted some unforseen evil would be the consequence, and accordingly, some time after, two valuable cows perished, -strangled at the stake!
About A. D. 746, it appears from a letter of St. Boniface to Pope Zachary, condemnatory of the sanction given to pagan festivities, that “at Rome on New year's day, no one would suffer a neighbour to take fire out of her house, or any thing of iron, or lend any thing." (Hospinian, apud Brand. Pop. Antiq. I. 9.) Boniface has written
epistles, and Zachary fulminated in vain as regards this practice in Northumberland, and we are informed, that the good dames of Lanarkshire in Scotland persist with equal pertinacity to oppose the long-recorded dicta and decrees of that illustrious diumvirate. A portion of a kindred creed appears likewise to flourish in that hilarious wakefulness, which some lovers of good cheer account requisite to the right celebration of the eve of the departing year, when circling the festive bowl, as honest Barnabe Googe expresses it, “A good beginning of the yeare they wishe and wishe againe,
According to the auncient guise of heathen people vaine." Among the Celtic tribes, the great festival of La Bealtine, was annually celebrated with solemn pomp, at the vernal equinox, the commencement of their year. On that eventful eve, the fires on every hearth throughout the land were quenched, and not until the lurid fire of Baal glared from the sacred mountain, were they permitted to be rekindled with fire derived exclusively from that pure flame, of which the Druids were the consecrated guardians. If any individual repaired not to the hallowed circle, but was indebted for a supply to the embers of his neighbour, the awful doom of excommunication awaited him-devotion to the undying element whose efficacy he had contemned. It might be that deeply fixed impressions of that night of bondage, may have left traces that still endure, in the superstitious dread of strange or Borrowed fire.-From J. Hardy's Col.
T the Ferry-hill, which is situated on an eminence
on the north road between Rushyford and Sunderland Bridge, in the county of Durham, is a gavel-ended house with an ancient enclosed garden, now the property of Mrs. Arrowsmith. On the wall of the garden the following inscription is cut:
“How happily seated these Lares are,
Who feed on prospect and fresh air,
THE DEATH OF KEELDAR.
BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.
ERCY, or Percival Rede, of Troughen, in Redesdale, Northumberland, is celebrated in tradition as a huntsman and a soldier. He was, upon two occasions, singularly unfortunate : once when an arrow, which he had discharged at a deer, killed his cele
brated dog Keeldar; and again when, being on a hunting party, he was betrayed into the hands of a clan called Crossar, by whom he was murdered. Mr. Cooper's painting of these incidents suggested the following stanzas, which first appeared in “The Gem,” at the time that now defunct annual was prosperous, under the able editorship of Thomas Hood, Esq.
P rose the sun o'er moor and mead;
Career'd along the lea;
They were a jovial three!
Man, hound, or horse, of higher fame,
On Cheviot's rueful day ;
And right dear friends were they.
The chase engross'd their joys and woes,
By fountain or by stream;