more likely, as the whole ceremony of knighting was very similar to that used at feudal investitures, in which the person about to be admitted to the fief appeared with his head uncovered, without sword or spurs; and, kneeling before the chief, with his hands placed between his, which was received in sign of future sub jection; and the form ended, as was originally the case in the ceremony of knighting, by the lord's kissing the cheek of him whom he admitted to his tenantry."

Customs of Warious Countries.

IRISH WEDDING FESTIVALS. Wherever these happy occasions are celebrated, a house with three contiguous apartments is invariably chosen the reason of this is to preserve a distinction between the classes of company expected. The best apartment is reserved for the bride and bridegroom, the priest, the piper, and the more opulent and respectable guests, as the landlord, his family and the neighbouring gentry, who are always invited and usually attend on such occasions. The second apartment is appropriated for the neighbours in general; and the third, or an out-house, is devoted to the reception of buckaughs, shulers, and other beggars. When the marriage is celebrated, two collections are raised amongst the guests, the first for the priest, the other for the piper. The assembly does not take place until late in the evening, when the marriage ceremony is performed, and the festivities seldom conclude before day-break the next morning.

Buckaughs are a description of mendicants that within these few years have considerably diminished. The name implies a lame or mutilated person; but vigorous young men may be found, who, having assumed the ragged garb, crave the privileges of the impotent and aged. In Ireland there are no gipsies, but their place is filled by buckaughs, who have the same wandering habits, and adopt the same unsettled mode of life, without however entering into associations or troops.

Queen Elizabeth. "One Sunday (April last) my Lorde of London preachede to the Queenes Majestie, and seemede to touche on the vanitie of deckinge the bodie too finely. Her Majestie tolde the ladies, that If the Bishope helde more discorse on suche matters, shee wolde fitte him for Heaven, but he shoulde walke thither withoute a staffe, and leave his mantle behind him.'Perchance the Bishope hathe never soughte her Highnesse wardrobe, or he woulde have chosen another texte.' ""

James the First.-"I thys day heard the kynge deliver hys speeche to the commons and lordes, and notede one parte thereof, wherein his Majestie callede the Devil, a busy Bishope, sparinge neither laboure nor paines.' 'My Lorde of London tolde me, he thoughte his Majestie might have chosen another name." "

JOHN SHEffield, duke of BUCKINGHAM.

This warrior, politician, courtier, and poet, had fled from the plague of 1655 in London to his Yorkshire estate; there he rendered himself so popular, that on his return, his tenantry attended him in a body to some distance, trying to extract a promise of his soon coming to reside among them again. The request was evaded for a while; but the crowd at last forced an answer. 'My worthy friends,' said the Earl, ‘I shall make a point of coming among you at the next plague !'

IMPROMPTU,

On seeing Douglas Guest, Esq. give the finishing touches to his inimitable Historical Picture of "The Banquet of Plato, or the Crowning of Socrates," now exhibiting in Old Bond-street.

Behold these glowing tints, to nature true, Which 'neath the master's hand progressive

grew,

Till art and animation seem at strife; That one would think (so potent is his art To portray nature) that he could impart

Another touch to wake the whole to life. F. 0.

EPITAPH ON THOMAS TUSSER.

Tusser, the Agricultural Poet, whose "Hundred good Points of Husbandry," was first published in 1557, and afterwards extended to "Five hundred good Points," was buried in St. Mildred's Church, in 1580, aged 65 years. Stow records his Epitaph as follows:Here Thomas Tusser, clad in earth, doth lie, That sometime made the "Points of Husbandrie;"

must,

By Him then learn thou maist, here learne we When all is done we sleep, and turne to dust; And yet, through Christ, to Heav'n we hope to goe;

Who reades his Bookes shall find his faith was

Illustrated Article.

THE CONSCRIPT BROTHERS:

A TALE OF WATERLOO.

It was in the dark and smoky room of an alehouse, the walls stained by the dirt of years, that three young men were seated at a table. Their coarse and scanty meal stood untasted before them. Their muskets rested against the wall, and their knapsacks lay on the floor. The storm beat furiously against the window. The rain had penetrated through the dilapidated building, and gave a still more desolate appearance to the miserable apartment. It was the evening before the battle of Waterloo. A terrible conflict was expected. Many a soldier of Buonaparte's army was fired by the prospect, and waited with all the impatience of military ardour for morning to arrive..

Not so our young Conscripts. They had been torn by the imperial mandate from the bosom of their family, from the culture of the sunny vineyard, from the tranquil and simple pleasures that the paysans of France enjoy, and forced into 12-VOL. V.

M

military duty. There was no struggle for freedom to animate them; no anticipation of better days. Their little village had been desolated by their own countrymen, and their father robbed of his three sons by the most cruel despotism. They could not join in the shout of Vive l'Empereur! for they felt only the effects of his blasting and selfish ambition.

"Our poor father!" said Conrad, striking his hand on the table.

"Our poor sister!" said Philip, while Edward, the youngest, who yet retained the slight form and fair complexion of boyhood, uttered a convulsive sob.

"Cheer up, my boy," said Conrad, "if we must fight, let us fight like men, and die like Christians." At that moment the landlord entered, conducting a soldier.

"Who talks of dying?" exclaimed he, as, full of animation and gaiety, he seated himself at the table; then casting his eyes around," for shame! landlord," said he,

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can you give the defenders of your country no better rations than these? Do you not boast of your generous wines? Bring them forth! Don't stint us of Burgundy and Champaigne Well may these

122.

poor fellows talk of dying, when famine and thirst stare them in the face."

The landlord, who had long groaned under the heavy demands of those who had quartered upon him, muttered his dissatisfaction.

Away!" exclaimed the soldier," do you not know you have the honour of entertaining Fortunatus himself? Now look! whenever I take off my cap and shake it thus, wealth pours from it;" and several pieces of money actually fell upon the table.

"God bless your honour!" exclaimed the landlord;" may you often take it off in my house."

"Go, then, poor devil," said the soldier, throwing him a few franks, "and bring us the best you can find."

The landlord bowed low and disappeared. "I do in my very soul pity these poor fellows," said the soldier, turn ing to his comrades; "they are oppressed by the soldiery, and obliged to entertain and feed them without recompense, and get nothing but curses in return, which it must be acknowledged," said he, again surveying the table, such fare de

It was not long before things wore a different aspect. The bright and sunny hue of the stranger's mind began to illumine even the dismal room of the alehouse. The landlord spread a much better repast upon the table, and, in honour of Fortunatus, placed a second smoky lamp directly before him. As the light glared upon his youthful and manly countenance, Edward suddenly arose and seized his hand.

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Brothers," ," said he, "this is the very soldier who saved me from disgrace yesterday, when the dragoon stood over ine.”

"Ah! is it you, my brave fellow ?” exclaimed his protector, "it was your own mettle that saved you, for if you had not shown that honour was dearer than life, you might have been thrashed like a poltroon for all me. But come!" added he, Alling the glasses round, and not forgetting the obsequious landlord, we are all a peg too low !"

Glass after glass exhilarated the company, and the eyes of the young Conscripts began to sparkle.

"I wish,” said Conrad, "as he felt

his blood warm, "that I went heart and hand in this cause." Poh!" said the new coiner, "it is not for us to reason. We have nothing to do but fight. Let us drink Vive Empereur!

"I cannot," said Conrad ; " my father is a royalist.

"Well, then," exclaimed the goodnatured soldier, "let us drink to the girl we love best! Come!" said he to Edward, who had filled his glass," give us her name."

My sister Alice," replied Edward, with animation.

A shout of laughter from the soldier abashed the youth. "I don't care for any other girl," said he, colouring deeply. "It is true," said Conrad; "he is a mere boy. He has always been brought up with his twin sister Alice." But come, Philip," said he, turning with an arch expression to his second brother, 66 you can help us out."

The blushes of Philip were of a still deeper hue than Edward's. At length, however, in a low voice he said," Lucile." The soldier had narrowly observed him. By my soul," exclaimed he, "I believe you have all lived upon mother's milk, and just escaped from the nursery."

"I hope," said Conrad proudly," you I will see that we do not shrink from our duty to-morrow."

"In the meantime," said the soldier, "let us all drink a bumper to our sister Alice."

The brothers smiled. There was something in the light-hearted, fearless gaiety of the new comer that animated their own spirits. They soon lost the reserve and awkwardness of strangers, and conversed with ease and freedom.

The father of the Conscripts, Jean de Castellon, inhabited a cottage that had descended from sire to son on the mother's side. It was one of those luxuriant spots cultured by the breath of heaven. Yet Jean's labour was not spared. All that patient industry requires to give affluence and utility to natural beauty, he had done. His barns cpened their vast folding doors to receive the harvest of autumn; his agricultural utensils were of the best kind, and in the finest order, and no traveller passed without remarking on the taste and eatness of his dwelling.

The death of Jean's wife was the first calamity he had experienced. He was several years older than she, and had been a husband rather after the patriarchal order than that of modern French gallantry. But though he required great deference, it was willingly paid, and nothing disturbed the harmony of their

union. At her death Jean had exercised the paternal care of father and mother in an exemplary manner. His two oldest boys were already able to assist his labours, and Edward and Alice were his constant companions.

Years had passed in this tranquil state, and the father daily felt his cares lightened by the aid of his sons. It was at this period that a detachment of soldiers entered the village for Conscripts. Their short stay was marked by plunder, and they bore away in triumph Jean's eldest born, Conrad. The succeeding year Philip was marked out and enlisted as a soldier. Edward still remained, nor did it enter the old man's head that they could rob him of all; but when the decisive battle was to be fought, when the best blood of France was to be spilt like water, and Napoleon gleaned, for the last desperate effort of his ambition, the hope of the nation, then the father was deprived of all. Yet still some form was preserved. No youth under sixteen was to be forced into the service-Edward had passed that age a few days before. The kind hearted villagers exhorted Jean to make use of evasion. They promised to stand by him; but when he was put upon oath, he not only told the day, but the very hour of his son's birth, and the only favour he could obtain was, that his two boys might fight side by side.

Such was the history of the Conscripts, nor was it uncommon. A late historian says, "No distinction was made. The son of the widow, the child of the decrepit and helpless, had no right to claim exemption. Three sons might be carried off in three successive years from the same desolated parents. There was no allowance made for having already supplied a recruit."

Fortunatus, now the companion of the brothers, was no Conscript. He had voluntarily enlisted in the French army, and he believed their arms invincible. He was full of amusing anecdote, and assured them that he had fought in several battles.

"I don't know how it is," said he, "I don't love to fight in cool blood; but when I hear the sound of the trumpet and the drum, and the music of the cannon, it is a different thing. I have never yet lost life or limb. From my childhood I was called Fortunatus, because I have been remarkable for my good luck; but my real name is Frederic de Lancey."

"I wish," said Philip, thoughtfully, "I felt as secure as you do, that only one of us would escape to-morrow with life s but when I think of our poor father and sister Alice, my heart dies within me."

"If that is all, my dear boy," said the