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the flower of his youth; and because she thought no man excelled him in valour, she caused a tournament to be proclaimed throughout her dominions, promising to reward those who should exercise themselves therein, according to their merit, and concluding, that if the person whom she so well affected, should act his part better than others in those military exercises, she might marry him without any dishonour to herself.

"Hereupon divers gallant men, from foreign parts hastened to Paris, among others came this our William de Albini, bravely accoutered, and in the tournament excelled all others, overcoming many, and wounding one mortally with his lance; which being observed by the Queen, she became exceedingly enamoured of him, and forthwith invited him to a costly banquet, and afterwards bestowing certain jewels upon him, offered him marriage. But having plighted his troth to the Queen of England, then a widow, he refused her; whereat she grew so discontented, that she consulted with her maids how she might take away his life; and in pursuance of that design, enticed him into a garden, where there was a secret cave, and in it a fierce lion, into which she descended by divers steps, under colour of showing him the beast. And when she told him of its fierceness, he answered that it was a womanish, and not a manly quality, to be afraid thereof, but having him there, by the advantage of a folding door, thrust him into the lion. Being therefore in this danger, he rolled his mantle about his arms, and putting his hand into the mouth of the beast, pulled out his tongue by the root; which done, he followed the Queen to her palace, and gave it to one of her maids to present to her.

"Returning therefore into England with the fame of this glorious exploit, he was forthwith advanced

to the earldom of Arundel, and for his arms the lion given him; nor was it long after, that the Queen of England accepted him for her husband, whose name was Adeliza (or Alice), widow to King Henry I., and daughter to Godfrey, Duke of Lorrain; which Adeliza had the castle of Arundel and country, in dowry from the King.

"And in the beginning of King Henry the Second's time, he not only obtained the castle and honours of Arundel to himself and his heirs, but also a confirmation of the earldom of Sussex, granted to him by the third penny of the pleas of that county, which in ancient times was the usual way of investing such great men in the possession of any earldom, after those ceremonies of girding with the sword, and putting on the robes, were performed, which have ever, till of late, been thought essential to that creation."

The foregoing story has been treated by Vincent and some other writers as ridiculous; but as it is found recorded by various authors, who place some credit in the relation, and as the ancient bearings of the Arundel family have the lion without a tongue, there is no doubt some ground for it.

A VARICE OUTWITTED.

The case of John Eyre, Esq., who, though worth upwards of £30,000., was convicted at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to transportation, for stealing eleven quires of common writing paper, was rendered more memorable by the opportunity which it gave Junius to impeach the integrity of Lord Mansfield, who was supposed to have erred in admitting him to bail. An anecdote is related of Eyre, which shows, in a striking manner, the depravity of the human heart, and may help to account for the meanness of the crime of which he stood convicted. An uncle of his, a gentleman of considerable property, made his will in favour of a clergyman, who was his intimate friend, and committed it, unknown to the rest of the family, to the custody of the divine. However, not long before his death, having altered his mind with regard to the disposal of his wealth, he made another will, in which he left the clergyman only £500., leaving the bulk of his large property to go to his nephew and his heir-at-law, Mr. Eyre. Soon after the old gentleman's death, Mr. Eyre, rummaging over his drawers, found this last will, and perceiving the legacy of £500. in it for the clergyman, without any hesitation or scruple of conscience, put it into the fire, and took possession of the whole effects, in consequence of his uncle being supposed to die intestate. The clergyman coming to town soon after, and inquiring into the circumstances of his old friend's death, asked if he had made a will before he died. On being answered by Mr. Eyre in the negative, the clergyman very coolly put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out the former will, which had been committed to his care, in which Mr. Eyre had bequeathed him the whole of his fortune, amounting to several thousand pounds, excepting a legacy of £200. to his nephew.

AN AWKWARD MISTAKE.

Louis the Ninth of France, observing one day among the crowd assembled to see him dine, an officer whom he very much disliked, made a private signal to Tristan L'Ermite, his "Grand Prevost," to put him out of the way. Tristan, well accustomed to the signal, but mistaking the man alluded to, accosted a wellfed monk who stood in the same line with the captain, allured him into the palace-yard, thrust him into a sack, and threw him into the Seine. Next day, Louis, hearing that the proscribed officer had been seen posting towards Flanders, reproach ed Tristan with neglect. "To Flan

ders," exclaimed the Grand Prevost, "your majesty must be in error, the monk has got half-way to Rouen by this time; I sent him adrift tied up in a sack."--"What monk?" "Him your majesty pointed at.""Hah, pasque Dieu!" said the King, with his usual oath, you have drowned me the best priest in my kingdom. It cannot be helped now, so we will have a half-dozen masses said for his soul; but it was that dog of a captain, not the poor monk, that I meant."

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ORIGIN OF "GONE ΤΟ ΡΟΤ."

The following is extracted from

"Instructions of Kikiaous, king of Mazanderan, to the prince, his son;" translated from the Persian:

A tailor of Samarchand, living near the gate that led to the burying place, had, by his shop-board, an earthen pot, hanging upon a nail, into which he threw a little stone when any corpse was carried by, and at the end of every moon he counted the contents of his pot, in order to ascertain the number of the deceased. At length the tailor himself died, and some time after, one that was unacquainted with his death, observing his shop to be deserted, enquired what was become of him? When one of his neighbours answered, "The tailor has gone to pot as well as the rest."

"TAKE NO NOTICE."

"Well then," said a sister in a most affectionate tone, " if you do not wish other people to know, or rather if I do not wish you to mention when you address our parents, that I write to you, in your absence from home, I will put at the bottom of my letters, "Take no notice." "Just as you please," said the youth to whom the foregoing was addressed, " but, if you write me a letter of advice, I certainly would have you be particularly careful to put beneath it "Take no notice," and that direction I'll follow most assuredly." Poet's Corner.

THE VILLAGE SHOP,

A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE.

Here, where each small and sullied pane
Strives to admit bright day, in vain;

And, where above the door
An ancient board, essays to tell
Of things within-unspeakable

Here, moulds the village store!-
We'll enter-what a dire perfume
Salutes our nostrils, in this room

So narrow, dark, and low;-
This nook, which never brush, or mop
Doth purify; The Village Shop,"

Where fresh airs never blow!-
And, what a chaos too, this room
Of cobwebs, dust, of stench, and gloom ;-

So cramm'd, we scarce can see!--
Snuff wooeth butter; --candles, cheese;
Bread, apples, onions, ointments, peas,
Plums, sugar, all agree!-
Rhubarb, tea, lamp-oil, currants, salt,
Oatmeal, red-herrings, mustard, malt,
Magnesia, antimony;
Pepper, flour, dredgers, cups, tea-pots,
Pans, kettles, basins, trays, and lots
Of Epsom salts, and honey!-
Eye-water, treacle, sand, stay-laces,
Screws.cor

cordials, garters, cottons, braces,

Hemp, flannel, calico; Nails, whet-stones, knives, seeds, hanging

jacks,

Tea-caddies, pruning-hooks, tin-tacks,
String, paper, help the shew!-
With boilers, needles, tin-lamps, spades,
Tobacco, threads and silks, all shades,
Hats, brushes, breeches, shoes;
Pins, ribbons, pipes, snuff-boxes, glass,
Lanterns, key-rings, hoes, rakes; -alas!
What more my weary muse ?-
Nay, Adam's self, were pos'd to name,
All that this room contains; -which, shame,
Are, on each other hurl'd!
Besides, dust, dirt, and stench doth fill
The place, so let them buy that will,-
I would not, for the world!

***

A SUMMER EVENING SONG.

A blush is upon the skies-a hue
Of gold and purple, -amid their blue,-
What a glorious eve is this!
I should be off-and I will away-
'Twere sin to linger, when dying day
Thus lavishly pours forth bliss!-
I hie to the shadowy grove, -each bird
Ere gentle slumber steals on, is heard

Its lullaby lay to sing';
Exquisite is that innocent strain,
Wild from the bosoms that know not pain,
Nor rack of man's suffering!-

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I see the morn! -her silvery crest
Is dim indeed by the rosy west, -
And yet, (all faint, all fair,
In her pure, pale loveliness,)-she seems
Meet theme for a thousand charmed dreams,
-Aye--who have their dwelling there!

I breathe the odour of summer flowers,
And think, what a heavenly land is ours

In its summer light and joy.-
Ah! sure 'twas meant, to be scarce less bright
Than that of ineffable delight ;-

But sin doth its bliss destroy!-

For earth might have laugh'd in ceaseless

spring,.

Whilst fruits and flowers, that summer

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suns

might ne'er

Nor gap'd as now, at the startling tone
Of the dismal passing bell! -
But wild winter bares our loveliest bowers,
Since sin hath blighted this earth of ours,
Which like to heaven, should; be:
A land of beauty; and death destroys
The buds and the blossoms of all our joys;
So, this is no home, for me!

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