beasts are thine (pointing to the cow and the mare); thou shalt be clothed in the garments which the duke will take off, and thy house shall be free and exempt from tribute." The peasant then came down from the stone, gave the duke a gentle slap on the cheek, and exhorting him to be a good judge, went away with his cattle.The prince then took his place on the stone, brandished his naked sword, turning to every side, promised to judge the people with equity. A peasant's cap was then presented, filled with water, from which he was obliged to drink, as a mark of his future sobriety. He was then conducted to the church, where he assisted at divine service, and changed the peasant's dress for the du cal habit. After the feast which followed, he returned to the meadow, in which a throne had been set up, and here he gave judgments, and conferred fiefs.

The point in our English ceremony which is most analogous to the Gothic and German elevations, is that of our kings being anciently placed upon a seat in Westminster Hall, which was thence denominated The King's Bench. This seat is, by our old writers, described as a marble seat, and that there stood before it a marble table; and here our kings were used to sit before their progress to the coronation. Stowe describes it as a long marble stone, of twelve feet in length, and three feet in breadth; and he says there was also a marble chair, where the Kings of England formerly sate at their coronationdinners. Richard II., Richard III., and Henry VII., are all instances of kings sitting in that marble chair.

is mine Hewins,' said he. So we look, ed at each other again, and sure it turned out to be neither of us,-and sure where's the bull in that, now!"

ESTIMATION OF DAMAGES.-A few years ago, a couple of Dutchmen, upon the high hills of Limestone, though very friendly, had a dreadful falling out about one killing the other's dog, for which he sued for damages. They were called into court, and the defendant in the case was asked by the judge, if he killed the dog? "Pe sure I kilt him," said the Dutchman; " but let him proof it." This being quite satisfactory, the plaintiff in the case was called on to answer a few questions: he was asked by the judge, to what amount he estimated the damages? He did not understand this question so well; so, to be a little plainer, the judge asked him what he thought the dog to be worth!" Be sure," said he, "the dog was wot noting; but since he was so mean as to kill him, he shall pay de full walue of him."

FLATTERY.-As the sun, in all his splendour, was peeping over the eastern hills, a newly married man exclaimed, "The glory of the world is rising!"His wife, who happened to be getting up at that moment, taking the compliment to herself, simpered out, "What would you say, dear, if I had my silk gown on ?"

HOW TO PROCURE MUSTACHIOS. When the mob, in the first French revolution, opened the tombs of the sovereigns in Saint Denis, they tossed the bones of all the Clothaires, and Capets, Pepins, and Valois, into one pit, and quick-limed them, for fear that they would rise and form a counter-revolutionary army. Henry the Fourth escaped a little better; he was found in tolerable preservation, and a young soldier leaped into the coffin, took off one of the king's mustachios, and, clapping it on his lip, said, "Ah, moi aussi, je suis un soldat François.'

He flourished about the church with this new badge of soldiership upon him, exclaiming, "that he would never wear any other mustache." Then finishing with a true French boast, that he was sure," Avec cela, de vaincre les ennemis de la patrie, et de marcher a la victoire."

Tuesday, Sept. 6.

St. Idlos of Llanidloss, Conf.

New Moon, 33m after 8 Morn. Sept. 6, 1423.-Sultan Amurath V. raised the siege of Constantinople. Amurath, irritated against Manwell Paleologue, because he had espoused the cause of Mustapha, his uncle, with whom he disputed the empire, laid siege to Constantinople with an army of 200,000 men. Cannon at the time was scarcely known in the east, Amurath used it at the siege. The terrible effects of the new machine could not abate the courage of the Greeks. They defended the city with so much valour, that they forced Amurath to raise the siege.

Wednesday, Sept. 7.

St. Cloud, Conf. A.D. 560. High Water 16m after 3 Morn-33m after 3 Aftern. Sept. 7, 1691.-To-day, the first representation of Acis and Galatea took place, at the Castle of Anet, in a fete given to the Dauphin by the Duke de Vandome. Louis the Fourth being taken dangerously ill, was desirous of concealing his real situation from the court, then disposed to pay every attention to the Dauphin. In order to di vert the attention of Monsieur, the Duke de Vendome gave him a fete, with an opera at Anet.The verses of the opera (Acis and Galatea) were written by Campistron, and the music by Lulli.

Thursday, Sept. 8.

Coronation of their most Gracious Majesties, King William 4th, and Queen Adelaide, (1831.) Sept. 8, 70.-Jerusalem taken by Titus, son of the Emperor Vespasian. The siege of Jerusalem is one of the most memorable in history. A million of Jews perished on the occasiou, more by their intestine division than the sword of the enemy. Friday, Sept. 9.

St. Betteslin, Hermit.

Sun rises 28m after 5-sets 31m after 6. Sept. 9, 1503.-James the Fourth, King of Scot. land, was killed at the battle of Flodden Field. James the Fourth was one of the greatest kings Scotland ever had. All the historians have extolled his valour and greatness of soul. Henry the Eighth of England, having attacked Louis the Eleventh, King of France, James made a diversion in favour of the French, by an irruption into Northumberland. He was induced to do this, by the invitation of Anne, Queen of France, of whom he was the avowed knight. She summoned the monarch according to the laws of gallantry, which the prevailed, to arm for her defence, and prove that he was her loyal and courageous champion.

Success did not crown his valour and fidelity. He was defeated at the battle of Flodden Field,

and lost his life in the fortieth year of his age: The body of the king was taken from the field of battle to London, and there denied funeral rites, because he died excommunicated; (James having been excommunicated for making a treaty with France, against the direction of the Pope,) but Hemy VIII. having assured the Pope that the deceased gave signs of repentance, the holy father granted absolution, and the body was interred.-James, according to report, instituted the Order of

the Thistle, the insignia of which was a collar of gold, formed by thistles, with the device-Nemo me impune lacessat.

Saturday, Sept. 10.

St. Salvius, Bishop. A.D. 580. High Water 21m after 4 Morn-38m after 4 After.

Autumn, by one of our popular writers, is regarded as beginning to-day: "it occupies ninety days. The mean temperature is 49.37 deg. or 11.29 deg. below the Summer; the medium of the day declines in this season from 58 deg. to 40 deg. At this season an immense swarm of small spi. ders take advantage of the moist state of the air, to carry on their operations, in which they are so industrious, that the whole country is soon covered with the fruit of their labours, in the form of a fine net-work, commonly called gossamer. They small insects which the cold of the night now appear exceedingly active in the pursuit of the brings down; and commence this fishery about the time that the swallows give it up and quit our shores. Their manner of locomotion is curioushalf-volant, half-aeronaut, the little creature darts from the papillae on his rump, a number of fine threads, which float in the air. Mounted thus in the breeze, he glides off with a quick motion of the legs, which seem to serve the purpose of wings, for moving in any particular direc tion. As these spiders rise to a considerable height, in very fine weather their tangled webs may be seen descending from the air in quick succession, like small flakes of cotton.

Sunday, Sept. 11.

FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Lessons for the Day.-Jeremiah, 35 chapter Mor Jeremiah, 36 ch. Evening.

About this period of the year, fungi of various kinds, particularly after some wet weather has fallen, continue to spring up, and constitute a curious subject of research to the botanist till late in Autumn. We now may view Mushrooms that dot the meadows green; Tall Azaricks, whose crimson pileuses Are spotted as if flies had settled on them, And hence derive their name; Botetuses, Tawney or brown, slate-coloured, blue, or grey, Some edible, and some, forsooth, a poison, fit To cope with Aconite, or the deadly Dwale, That hangs its venom'd berries like a fruit. Nor can we be too cautious of this tribe, For all of them, from the Champignon fair, That apes the Mushroom's dye, to the Piziza, With orange crest, there's more or less mischief.

The doctor enters, note the omen well."

THE peasantry of the north of Yorkshire have a superstitious dread of the Gabrielle-ratchard, the name of an imaginary bird, which is said to shriek in the neighbourhood, or immediately at the doors, of the sick who are destined not to recover. The fear consequent on the hearing of this dreaded visitant has no doubt been the means of terrifying many an invalid to death. Neverthe

I am not quite certain whether this be the right orthography of the word or not. Perhaps some correspondent of the OLIO, more acquainted with Saxon derivatives, may correct me.-G. Y. H-N.

See page 131

less the superstition, old as our Saxon ancestors, is so firmly believed in, that not to give credence to it is considered, by some, to be a crime little short of blasphemy.

It was on a fitful evening in the scowling month of November, that the family of the good Mr. Tobitt, the curate of Kilvington, were clustering round the fire, talking over the contemplated marriage of Maria Ripley, the arch little niece of Mrs. Tobitt, to a spruce London draper, who had come down to settle the preliminaries to the wedding, much to the annoyance of Maria, whose real lover was a young farmer yclept Dawson Furnaby, Maria had pretended indisposition for some days, in order to prevent her good-natured aunt from burdening herself with the expense of preparations for an event which Maria had determined should not take place. She looked exceedingly pale, and was a little feverish, in consequence of an emetic which she had secretly taken. Mr. James Woolington, the Cheapside

205

draper, showed her all the attention in his power, and had now taken his seat by her, crossing his legs in order to display a handsome pair of tartan trowsers, down the sides of which were run broad black bands, dragoon-like,-the pattern and texture of which trowsers, Betty, the house-maid, had declared to Miss, in confidence, to be no better than her mother's linsey-wolsey petticoat. A half-crown eye-glass hung from his neck, by a broad, black ribbon, and inside his waistcoat his double-frilled shirt, in which was a mock-diamond brooch, was crossed by a thick red silk watch-guard. He wore a blue coat, with velvet collar, and buttons of the king's pattern,-the tail of which Betty compared to that of the saucy old drake in the fold-yard. Mr. James had a perpetual simper on his countenance, with a self-satisfied curl of the upper lip, which showed that, however satirical and severe he might be upon others, he was on the best possible terms with himself. He spoke bad French, was a dabbler in politics and a critic in poetry-having addressed Sir Francis Burdett, across the counter, and having once attended my Lord Byron to his carriage. Yet, with all these accomplishments, he failed to win the affections of Maria Ripley, though encouraged by her foolish aunt.

Maria acted her part extremely well, though the fictitious hue of sickness cloaked a heart which was all expectancy and joy. Mr. James Woolington wore away the evening in relating his 66 'voyages and adventures" to Bordeaux and Havre de Grace; and encouraged by Maria's arch smiles, which he mistook for those of admiration, he spared not to exaggerate his "hairbreadth 'scapes" on the wide ocean, and his daring ventures on land. Suddenly the whole group were terrified on hearing a dismal screech, coming, apparently, from the elms edging the church-yard. The women screamed; the men turned pale; the jaws of Mr. James Woolington distending like those of an articulated skeleton.

"A barn-owl!" exclaimed the old curate, mechanically stretching forth his hand to his loaded gun, which was slung from the old-fashioned ceiling of the room.

"The Gabrielle-ratchard!" shrieked Mrs. Tobitt.

"The Gabrielle-ratchard!" roared out Betty, who, in her terror, had unceremoniously entered the apartment.

"I will wager a bottle of sherry and

sixpennyworth of biscuits," faintly observed Mr. James, after smelling his bottle of salts, "that it is a strange bird, which has escaped from some ship in the nearest port-one of the eaglespecies; I have heard such a noise off Dover. I hope you are not frightened, my love Maria?"

"Indeed but I am, Mr. James," replied she.

The eyes of Mrs. Tobitt were mournfully fixed on Maria, and her superstitious apprehension doomed the intriguing girl to approaching dissolution -the event of her death being inferred by the sagacious dame, from the doleful cry of the alleged Gabrielle-ratchard.

"Alack-a-day!" exclaimed she; "as we are all here this blessed night, I knew we should have dismal tidings before long. You know, Betty, what you did in the morning?"

"La, Missus, yes! I lay the bellows across the table!"

"Ay," sighed Mrs. Tobitt; "my poor Maria! what shall I do with your wedding-dress, and what with your"-and here she paused to absorb with her handkerchief the foolish tear trickling down her furrowed cheek.

"Cheer up, aunt," replied Miss Ripley; "I shall wear my wedding-dress yet, depend upon it."

"More likely your shroud," whispered the old lady to herself-in which sentiments the thoughts of the frivolous Mr. James Woolington coincided; and so firmly had the ominous look of Mrs. Tobitt fixed itself upon his imagination, that he already looked upon Maria as a withering rose. After the alarm had subsided, and Maria, acting well the invalid, had withdrawn to her apartment, the sage Mrs. T. apprized him of her forebodings as to the fate of Miss Ripley, and it was mutually agreed that the wedding should be postponed for a few days. Mr. Tobitt said little: he smiled at the ridiculous augury of his spouse, and persisted in his affirmations that the bird which had terrified with its awful voice the whole neighbourhood, was the large dusky owl, commonly haunting barns and ruinous buildings. Cordials and restoratives were put in requisition for Maria, who, the trembling dame was sure, had the “deathsickness;"-the noise of that ghostly bird portended a speedy passage to the grave, she was certain; and she went on enumerating the times she had heard it, and the unvarying consequences which infallibly followed. Mr. James Woolington became horrified, his teeth

in dismay

"And glow'rd around wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles seiz'd him unawares." In the morning, Maria feigned to be a little better. The attendance of the stupid old doctor from the adjacent town had been procured. He advanced, big with importance, to the bedside of the sham invalid, without removing his hat or taking off his coat with its enormous capes. Maria held out her fair wrist, at his request to feel her pulse, he hummed, ha'd, and bit the handle of his riding-whip, with all the sapiency of a drug-prescribing quack, the fame of whose discernment amongst the old women of the hamlet never fails in its persuasion to " one bottle more. He pronounced Maria to be in some danger, agreed to send her a mixture, and departed. "If I be in any danger," thought Miss Ripley, "it is that of having my plot discovered."

Mr. James sat by her bedside for some hours during the day, and annoyed her no little by his shallow conversation. In the broad sunlight he laughed away the alarms of the previous night, and dangled his eye-glass on his finger with all the non-chalance of a most courageous gentleman, cracking his jokes upon the ungraceful ploughman passing beneath the window, and boasting of the many tricks he had played off upon "joskins" he had casually met with in London. Evening approached, but not a word of apprehension as to the repetition of the Gabrielle-ratchard's visit escaped the lips of any of the family. Certainly, as night set in, they looked in each other's faces with silent meaning. Each of their chairs were drawn closer round the fire, and their conversation was mutually interrupted by significant listenings. Ten o'clock came, and the announcement of its arrival had scarcely ceased to sound from the steeple bell, when the shriek of the Gabrielle-ratchard, piercingly shrill, broke on the fireside silence, and scared the whole group into one general cry of terror. For a long time they stirred not from their seats, but clung closer to each other, until the dreaded repetitions of the screams of the supposed death-bird had died away. At last, poor Mrs. Tobit ventured to the window, with the candle in her hand, when, imagining she heard the bird tap its beak against one of the panes of glass, she drew aside the window-curtain to look. The curate became more grave, and declared his intention to procure the

clerk, to discover the bird, should its visit be repeated on the following evening.

The morrow dawned, and found Maria in much the same condition, save that, from having feigned to be sick for so long a period, she was likely to become so in earnest. However, it was the last day which the bewitching valetudinarian was doomed to pass in her chamber, and it elapsed in a similar manner to the preceding. The curate, in the interim, had conferred with his clerk, the pugnacious Nathan Elgie, who took his seat amongst the family groupe on the third night of the Gabrielle-ratchard's serenading. Fortified interiorly with a glass or two of Mrs. Tobitt's" particular cordial," and, exteriorly, by a pair of pocket-pistols, lent him by Mr. James Woolington, the parish clerk sat in hourly expectation of hearing the cry of the feathery visitant. As an auxiliary to his offensive preparations, the curate's gun lay, ready loaded, on a table at the elbow of Nathan Elgie. The hour arrived, and the anticipated screech was heard. Nathan leaped up from his seat, buttoned his coat, and, armed with the pistols and gun, sallied forth into the church-yard. The gardener preceded him, carrying a lantern, aided by the light of which they gazed up to the boughs of the sullen elms which grew by the churchyard, but in vain; for, spite of Tom Mills (the gardener) fancying, at every shake of the trees, that it was caused by the movement of the ominous bird, they neither heard nor saw anything coming under the description of a bird, natural or supernatural. They stood mutely listening for the screech to be repeated, which it was within ten minutes. Nathan was now convinced that it was from the interior of the church that the sound came, and turning the key in the ponderous door, they paced the vaulted isles, and looked up to the roof, in expectation of making the desired discovery, but all to no purpose; when, on passing through the inner door, preparatory to crossing the porch, Tom Mills was startled by the falling of a large, piece of plaster, which dropped on the hand that held the lantern. Holding it up, they perceived the legs and feet of a boy hanging over a stone projection immediately over the door-way.

"Pull him down, whether he be man or devil!" said Nathan, pointing the loaded piece to the spot.

"He is neither, but your own son