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then the dead lord kneeling, received penance thereby ; which done, Augustine commanded the dead lord to go again to his grave, there to abide until the day of judgment; and forthwith the said lord entered his grave, and fell to ashes. Then Augustine asked the curate, how long he had been dead; and he said, a hundred and fifty years. And Augustine offered to pray for him, that he might remain on earth to confirm men in their belief; but the curate refused, because he was in the place of rest. Then said Augustine, "Go in peace, and pray for me and for holy church;" and immediately the curate returned to his grave. At this sight, the lord who had not paid the curate his tythes was sore afraid, and came quaking to St. Augustine, and to his curate, and prayed forgiveness of his trespass, and promised ever after to pay his tythes.

Chronology. On the 26th of May, 1555, was a gay May-game at St. Marttin's-in-the-fields, with giants and hobby-horses, drums and guns, morrice-dances, and other minstrels.*


Rhododendron. Rhododcndrum Ponticum.

Dedicated to St. Augustine.

Yellow Azalea. Azalea pontica.

Dedicated to St. Philip Neri.

ittap 27.

previously put to death the philosopher Boethius, who, according to Ribadeneira, after he was beheaded, was scorfingly asked by one of the executioners, " who hath put thee to death?" whereupon Boetius answered, "wicked men," and immediately taking up his head in his own hands, walked away with it to the adjoining church.

St. Bede

The life of "Venerable Bede" in Butler, is one of the best memoirs in his biography of the saints. He was an Englishman, in priest's orders. It is said of him that he was a prodigy of learning in an unlearned age; that he surpassed Gregory the Great in eloquence and copiousness of style, and that Europe scarcely produced a greater scholar. He was a teacher of youth, and, at one time had six hundred pupils, yet he exercised his clerical functions with punctuality, and wrote an incredible number of works in theology, science, and the polite arts. It is true he fell into the prevailing credulity of the early age wherein he flourished, but he enlightened it by his erudition, and improved it by his unfeigned piety and unwearied zeal.

Not to ridicule so great a man, but as an instance of the desire to attribute wonderful miracles to distinguished characters, the following silly anecdote concerning Bede is extracted from the "Golden Legend." He was blind, and desiring to be led forth to preach, his servants carried him to a heap of stones, to which, the good father, believing himself preaching to a sensible congregation, delivered a noble discourse, whereunto, when he had finished his sermon, the stones answered and said "Amen I"

St. John, Pope, A. D. 526. St. Bede, A

735. St. Juliut, about A. D. 302. St. John, Pope.

This pontiff was imprisoned by Theo- doric, king of the Goths, in Italy, and tried in confinement. This sovereign had

Methinks that to some vacant hermitage
My feet would rather turn—to some dry nook
Scooped out of living rock, and near a brook

Hurled down a mountain cove from stage to stage,

Yet tempering, for my sight, its bustling rage
In the soft heaven of a translucent pool;
Thence creeping under forest arches cool,

Fit haunt of shapes whose glorious equipage

Perchance would throng my dreams. A beechen bowl,

A Maple dish, my furniture should be;

Crisp yellow leaves my bed ; the hooting Owl
My nightwatrh: nor should e'er the crested fowl

From thorp or vill his matins sound for me,

Tired of the world and all its industry.

But what if one, through grove or flowery mead,
Indulging thus at will the creeping feet
Of a voluptuous indolence, should meet

* Slr>p-*3 I.Unioru!..

The hovering shade of venerable Bede,
The saint, the scholar, from a circle freed

Of toil stupendous, in a hallowed seat

Of learning, where he heard the billows beat
On a wild coast—rough monitors to feed

Perpetual industry—sublime recluse!
The recreant soul, that dares to shun the debt
Imposed on human kind, must first forget
» Thy diligence, thy unrelaxing use

Of a long life, and, in the hour of death,
The last dear service of thy passing breath!


The Season. in the weather, and especially the winds.

E\ ery thing of good or evil, incident These have been borne with some philo

to any period of the year, is to be regarded sophy, by the individual now holding the

seasonable; the present time of the year, pen; but, alas! the effects are too appa

therefore, must not be quarrelled with, if rent, he apprehends, to many who have

it be not always agreeable to us. Many read what he has been scarcely able to

days of this month, in 1825, have been throw together. He hopes that these

most oppressive to the spirits, and inju- defaults will be placed to their proper

rious to the mental faculties, of persons account, and that cloudless skies and

who are unhappily susceptible of changes genial breezes will enable him to do better.

May, 1825.
All hail to thee, hail to thee, god of the morning!

How joyous thy steeds from the ocean have sprung!
The clouds and the waves smile to see thee returning,

And young zephyrs laugh as they gambol along.

No more with the tempest the river is swelling.
No angry clouds frown, and no sky darkly lowers;

The bee winds his horn, and the gay news is telling,
That spring is arrived with her sunshine and flowers.

From her home in the grass see the white primrose peeping.

While diamond dew-drops around her are spread,
She smiles through her tears, like an infant, whose weeping

To laughter is changed when its sorrows are fled.

In the pride of its beauty the young year is shining,

And nature with blossoms is wreathing the trees.
The white and the green, in rich clusters entwining.

Are sprinkling their sweets on the wings of each breeze.

Then hail to thee, hail to thee, god of the morning!

Triumphant ride on in thy chariot of light;
The earth, with thy bounties her forehead adorning,

Comes forth, like a bride, from the chamber of night



Buttercups. Ranunculxu aeru.

Dedicated to St. John, Pope.

Yellow Bachelor's Buttons. Ranunculus aeru plentu.

Dedicated to St. Bede.

^tlflP 28. Chronology.

St. Germamt, 3p. of Paris, A. D. 570. 1546. Cardinal Beaton was on this

St. Caraunut, also Caranws ai.d Caro, day assassinated in Scotland. He was

(iu French, Ckeron.) priinaet of that kingdom, over which he

exercised almost sovereign sway. Just before his death he got into his power George Wishart, a gentleman by birth, who preached against Romish superstitions, and caused him to be condemned to tie stake for heresy. The cardinal refused the sacrament to his victim, on the ground that it was not reasonable to allow a spiritual benefit to an obstinate heretic, condemned by the church. Wishart was tied to a tree in the castle-yard of St. Andrew's, with bags of gunpowder fastened about his body. The cardinal and prelates were seated on rich cushions with tapestry hangings before them, from whence they viewed the execution of their sentence. The gunpowder having exploded without ending Wishart's bodily sufferings, the inflexible reformer exclaimed from the fire, "This flame hath scorched my body, yet hath it not daunted my spirit: but he who from yonder high place beholdeth me with such pride, shall within a few days lie in the same as ignominiously as now he is seen proudly to rest himself." After these words, the cord that went about his neck was drawn by one of the executioneis to stop his breath, the fire was increased, his body was consumed to ashes, and the cardinal caused proclamation to be made that none should pray for the heretic under pain of the heaviest ecclesiastical censures. If the church, said the priests, had found such a protector in former times, she had maintained her authority; but the cardinal's cruelty struck the people with horror, and John Lesly, brother to the earl of Rothes, with Normand Lesly, the earl of Rothes' son, (who was disgusted on account of some private quarrel,) and other persons of birth and quality, openly vowed to avenge Wishart's death. Early in the morning they entered the cardinal's palace at St. Andrews, which he had strongly fortified; though they were not above sixteen persons, they thrust out a hundred tradesmen and fifty servants, whom they seized separately, before any suspicion arose of their intentions; and having shut the gates, they proceeded very deliberately to execute their purpose on the cardinal. Beaton alarmed with the noise which he heard in the castle, barricadoed the door of his chamber: but finding that they had brought fire in order to force their way, and having obtained, as is believed, a promise of life, he opened the door; and reminding them that he was a priest, he

conjured them to spare hum Two of them rushed upon him with drawn swords, but a third, James Malvil, stopped their career, and bade them reflect that this work was the work and judgment of God, and ought to be executed with becoming deliberation and gravity. Then turning the point of his sword towards Beaton, he called to him, "Repent thee, thou wicked cardinal, of all thy sins and iniquities, especially of the murder of Wishart, that instrument of God for the conversion of these lands: it is his death which now cries vengeance upon thee: we are sent by God to inflict the deserved punishment. For here, before the Almighty, I protest, that it is neither hatred of thy person, nor love of thy riches, nor fear of thy power, which moves me to seek thy death: but only because thou hast been, and still remainest, an obstinate enemy to Christ Jesus, and his holy gospel." Having spoken these words, without giving Beaton time to finish that repentance to which he exhorted him, he thrust him through 'he body, and the cardinal fell dead at his feet. Upon a rumour that the castle was taken, a great tumult arose in the city; and several partisans of the cardinal armed themselves with intent to scale the walls. When they were told of his death, they desisted, and the people insisting upon a sight of the cardinal's body, his corpse was exposed to their view from the very same place wherein he sat to behold the execution of George Wishart.

The sanguinary spirit of these times has disappeared, and we look upon what remains to us of the individuals who suffered, or acted under its influence, as memorials of such crimes and criminals as we in a milder age dare not imagine our country can be again afflicted with. The sight of cardinal Beaton's house in the Cowgate, at Edinburgh, may have induced useful reflections on past intolerance, and increased charitable dispositions in some whose persuasions widely differ. If this be so, a representation of it in this sheet may not be less agreeable to the moralist than to the rover of antiquities. The drawing from whence the engraving on the next page is taken, was made on the spot in 1824.


Lurid Fleur-de-lis. Irid Lurida
Dedicated to St. Germain.

[graphic][merged small]

iflap 29.

St. Maximinus, Bp. of Friers, A. D. 349.

St. Cyril. St. Conon and his ton, of

Iconia in Asia, about A. D. 275. So.

Sisinniut, Martyriut, and Alexander,

A. D. 397.

Restoration Day.

This day is so called from its being the anniversary of the day whereon king Charles II. entered London, in 1660, and re-established royalty, which had been suspended from the death of his father. It is usual with the vulgar people to wear oak-leaves in their hats on this day, and dress their horses' heads with them. This is in commemoration of the shelter afforded to Charles by an oak while making his escape from England, after his defeat at Worcester, by Cromwell.

The battle was fought on the 3d of Sep, tember, 1651; Cromwell having utterly routed his army, Charles left Worcester at six o'clock in the afternoon, and without halting, travelled about twenty-six miles, in company with fifty or sixty of bis friends, from whom he separated, without communicating his intentions to any of them, and went to Boscobel, a lone house in the borders of Staffordshire, inhabited by one Penderell, a farmer, to whom he intrusted himself. This man, assisted by his four brothers, clothed the king in a garb like their own, led him into the neighbouring wood, put a bill into his hand, and pretended to employ themselves in cutting faggots. Some nights he lay upon straw in the house, and fed on such homely fare as it afforded. For better concealment, he mounted upon a* oak, where he sheltered himself among the leaves and branches for twenty-four hours. He saw several soldiers pass by. All of them were intent in search of the king; and some expressed, in his hearing, their earnest wishes of seizing him. This tree was afterwards denominated the Royal Oak; and for many years was regarded by the neighbourhood with great veneration. Charles could neither stay, nor stir, without imminent danger. At length he and lord Wilmot, who was concealed in the neighbourhood, put themselves into the hands of colonel Lane, a zealous royalist, who lived at Bentley, not many miles distant. The king's feet were so hurt by walking in heavy boots or countrymen's shoes, which did not fit him, that he was obliged to mount on horseback; and he travelled in this situation to Bentley, attended by the Penderells. Lane formed a scheme for his journey to Bristol, where, it was hoped, he would find a ship, in which he might transport himself. He had a near kinswoman, Mrs. Norton, who lived within three miles of that city, and he obtained a pass (for, during those times of confusion, this precaution was requisite) for his sister Jane Lane and a servant to travel towards Bristol, under pretence of visiting and attending her relation. The king rode before the lady, and personated the servant. When they arrived at Norton's, Mrs. Lane pretended that she had brought along as her servant a poor lad, a neighbouring farmer's son, who was ill of an ague; and she begged a private room for him where he might be quiet. Though Charles kept himself retired in this chamber, the butler, one Pope, soon knew him: Charles was alarmed, but made the butler promise that he would keep the secret from every mortal, even from his master; and he was faithful to his engagement. No ship, it was found, would, for a month, set sail from Bristol, either for France or Spain; and the king was obliged to go to colonel Windham of Dorsetshire, a partisan of the royal family. During his journey he often passed through the hands of catholics; the Print'* Hole, as they called it, the place where they were obliged to conceal their persecuted priests, was sometimes employed to shelter him. He continued several days in Windham's house; and all his friends in Britain, and in "very part of Europe, remained in the most anxious suspense with regard to his

fortunes: no one could conjecture whether be were dead or alive; and the report of his death being generally believed, relaxed the vigilant search of his enemies. Trials were made to procure a vessel for his escape; but he still met with disappointments. Having left Windham's house, he was obliged again to return to it. He passed through many other adventures; assumed different disguises; in every step was exposed to imminent perils; and received daily proofs of uncorrupted fidelity and attachment. The sagacity of a smith, who remarked that his horse's shoes had been made in the north, and not in the west, as he pretended, once detected him; and he narrowly escaped. At Short-hum, in Sussex, a vessel was at last found, in which he embarked. He had been known to so many, that if he had not set sail in that critical moment it had been impossible for him to escape. After one and forty days' concealment, he arrived safely at Fescamp in Normandy. No less than forty men and women had at different times been privy to his concealment and escape*

Charles II. himself wrote a narrative of his remarkable " Escape." From this it appears that while journeying with the Penderells, "he wore a very greasy old grey steeple-crowned hat, with the brims turned up, without lining or hatband: a green cloth coat, threadbare, even to the threads being worn white, and breeches of the same, with long knees down to the garter; with an old leathern doublet, a pair of white flannel stockings next to his legs, which the king said were his boot stockings, their tops being cut off to prevent their being discovered, and upon them a pair of old green yarn stockings, all worn and darned at the knees, with their feet cut off; his shoes were old, all slashed for the ease of his feet, and full of gravel; he had an old coarse shirt, patched both at the neck and hands; he had no gloves, but a long thorn stick, not very strong, but crooked three or four several ways, in his hand; his hair cut short up to his ears, and hands coloured; his majesty refusing to have any gloves, when father Hodlestone offered him some, as also to change his stick."

Charles's narrative is very minute in many particulars; especially as regards

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