used to be spit out by people bewitched. He examined the witnesses very tenderly and carefully, and so as none could collect what his opinion was; for he was fearful of the jurymen's precipitancy, if he gave them any offence. When the poor man was told he must answer for himself, he entered upon a defence as orderly and well expressed as I ever heard spoke by any man, counsel or other; and if the attorney-general had been his advocate, I am sure he could not have done it more sensibly. The sum of it was malice, threatening, and circumstances of imposture in the girl; to which matters he called his witnesses, and they were heard. After this was done, the judge was not satisfied to direct the jury before the imposture was fully declared; but studied and beat the bush awhile, asking sometimes one and then another question, as he thought proper. At length he turned to the justice of peace that comImitted the man and took the first examinations. And, sir,' said he, pray will you ingenuously declare your thoughts if you have any, touching these straight pins which the girl spit; for you saw her in her fit?' Then, my lord,' said he,

I did not know that I might concern myself in this evidence, having taken the examination and committed the man. But since your lordship demands it, I must needs say, I think the girl, doubling herself in her fit as being convulsed, bent her head down close to her stomacher, and with her mouth took pins out of the edge of that, and then, righting herself a little, spit them into some bystander's hands.' This cast an universal satisfaction upon the minds of the whole audience, and the man was acquitted. As the judge went down stairs out of the court, a hideous old woman cried, 'God bless your lordship!'

What's the matter, good woman?' said the judge. My lord,' said she, forty years ago, they would have hanged me for a witch, and they could not, and now they would have hanged my poor son!'" Cab. Cyc.

STANZAS.-(For the Olio)

Talk not to me of the pleasures around;
Use not the language of glee;

Say not, that sunshine is gilding the ground,
And melody moving the sea;

Stay not the zephyr to throw me its breath;
Shew not the fair-blossom'd flower;
But, bring me the roses are wither'd in death,
And deck round my sorrow-built bower!
The beauties around me but draw forth a tear,
I taste not the joys they bestow;
For the sweetest of melody jars on the ear,
When the heart has been long tuned to woe!

Talk not of Hope! that might once have re

moved

The dull mark of care from my brow;

But, so worthless, so false have her whisperings proved,

That I heed not their mockery now:

I have hoped, ah! too long and too vainly, alas!

To believe that her tales can prove true;

Oh! let the false prophetess speedily pass,
Her pictures they fade in my view:
Are the dreams of the night worth the toil of
the day,

When they fly at the first of the morn?
What is Hope, but a vision that withers away,
When truth and when memory dawn?
Talk not of Pleasure! for some she may smile
But for me she has nought but a frown;
And every plant I would train up her hill,
Lo Misery withers it down!
True, life was not meant to be blossoms all o'er,
Blights sometimes must wither the tree;
But why should each shoot, that gives others a
flower,

Grow nothing but poison for me?
The bud that is blighted swells not to the sun,
Though the summer be brilliant and clear,
But withers away on the stem where it hung,
And dies ere the end of the year.

Talk not of love! ah, that ought to have blest
My youth and my life with its spell;
I have loved-more than fancy or verse have
exprest,

Have adored-as 'twere madness to tell!

All my hopes, all my joys, of earthly design,
Had affection's rich columns all through;
Oh! how can I wish that they never were mine?

Or build the whole fabric anew?

Had I loved with less fervour, I then had ne'er

known

The pangs that are tearing me now, For the bud, that is wither'd before it has blown, Is seldom pluck'd off from the bough. Talk-but of trouble and sorrow and care; Use not the language of glee! Lo! the dark thunder cloud hangs in the air, My heart is as dark, and the tempest of woe Its tumult rolls over my mind; Ah! could the cold hearts that would censure

That shall be pleasure to me!

me know,

There's a sunbeam still glowing behind! The nightingale, caged, still belongs to the grove!

The tortures of feeling, the sorrows of love
The eagle that's chain'd, to the sky!
Have no place in the mansions on high!

Talk-but of worlds and of joys, that wait
Their purity, blessedness, freedom relate,
The feeling and good when they die;

And thither my fancy shall fly.
The heart, that has kindred in happier lands,
May here well its misery deplore;

For when can the captive forget that his bands
Confine from his own native shore?
The brook cannot rest in the meadow, but

wends

was edified by a regular traveller, or bagman, on behalf of Jose Maria Farina, (the Eau de Cologne man), did I not believe as much in the hippocratic virtues of Mr. Farina's water, as I do in those of the Pope's-and did I not call to mind the tragic occurrences which plunged us all into sorrow, and almost into disgrace. One of our dragoons waylaid a farmer, riding home from the fair, and shot him dead! An officer, stationed at G, had been dining at head-quarters, and, on his way home, found the corpse-probably his accidental arrival prevented the assassin from executing his purpose of plunder, for it was ascertained (and indeed known to the soldier) that the deceased carried a considerable sum of money about him. The officer immediately returned to Fs, and gave the alarm. Every soldier in the town was paraded, though past ten o'clock; every pistol and carbine examined; and a man was suspected-if I recollect accurately, his pistol was found, though he denied having been absent from quarters, and maintained, that he had put it by, clean, in its place. His character, however, was gone. The officers offered a reward of one hundred pounds for the detection of the murderer. I was on parade when this offer was published; the man quailed and turned white in the countenance; but said nothing. He was brought to a general court-martial, and acquitted; but for years, he lived at least a suspected murderer.

66

Long, long afterwards, another man died in his bed, and confessed the crime of which poor R- had been unjustly accused. The real murderer and R had been comrades, and of course occupied the same quarters. The assassin took R-'s pistol, and with it perpetrated the bloody deed, though he reaped no advantage from it. I am shocked to add, that a woman, who lived with the murderer, was acquainted with the whole of the affair, though she never revealed thing till her paramour was beyond the reach of human vengeance.'

any

During the winter months that now rapidly approached and passed away, we will as rapidly sketch the events belong

* Continued from p. 332.

ing to this story. De Courtnaye accompanied the King to Ireland, and Sir Lionel, after an ineffectual search after his sister, whose letter from Fairwell we have seen never reached him, left Helmhurst to join the King, about a week before missives came from the Prioress, declaring her "satisfaction in having sheltered his sister, who, she stated, had according to the directions conveyed under his signet, proceeded from the convent, under the protection of four men in the Biddulf livery, for her brother's hall in Helmhurst, where the Lady Prioress trusted to hear of her safe arrival." This letter lay some months at Helmhurst, till it was forwarded with others to the absent knight.

Meanwhile, of the hapless Baroness nothing was heard or seen. Warner, too, had disappeared; it was conjectured he had accompanied De Courtnaye, and there seemed grounds for this opinion, for when in the close of May, the Baron, by his patron's permission, returned to prosecute his suit with Sybil, Warner was seen in more obsequious attendance upon him than ever. The followers of De Biddulf, in wrath at their unsuccessful march, had burnt the old hall to the ground, and the Robber Chief now formed one of De Courtnaye's household.

The growing disturbances of the time. soon superseded the horror occasioned by the murder of the Warden; and Sir Lionel had the misery of leaving his revered friend in his bloody grave, and his sister in unknown perils, without being able to avenge the one or to succour the other. Thus the Spring passed away, and the great festival of Whitsuntide approached. The kingdom was now distracted by wars and rumours of wars. The internal mismanagement of the realm, the regency of the Duke of York, his uncle, and the unseasonable expedition of Richard into Ireland, together with the urgent invitations of his numerous and powerful friends. in England, had induced the Duke of Hereford to meditate a return from his exile. Report at this time had anticipated his arrival and magnified his forces.

Meanwhile the Lord Courtnaye received his dismissal from the Bishop, and his visits to the palace were prohibited. De Burghill was called to London by the alarming exigences of the time; when one morning, as Sybil was mournfully sitting in her bower in the highest story of the eastern tower of the palace, gazing abstractedly over the blue hills and woods of Leicestershire, a notice was placed in her hand by one of her maidens, who said that a muffled stranger had thrown it into the gateway. It warned her of appearing

in the approaching festival of Whit-Monday, where, from her rank as the Bishop's niece, it would be expected she should bear one of the tutelary saints to be blessed by the Priest of St. Mary's.

"If," continued the letter, 66 you dare abide the result, go as usual, but have a sufficient body of the Bishop's yeomen about you well armed; when you arrive opposite the Hostel called The Pilgrim's Rest,' you will see a band habited like Robin Hood and his Men ;-let no fear unnerve you; they will approach you, but give your people strict orders to seize Robin Hood and Scathelock: have them conveyed forthwith to the Guildhall, and there will meet you one who humbly hopes that her zeal in your behalf may make amends for an ill-spent life."

It was at the next meeting of the archers at the Shooting Butts, on that fair hill north of the Close, called The Bishop's Walk, and commanding the Minster, the Palace, the City, and the various churches of Lichfield, that Sybil had an opportunity of putting this mysterious scroll in the hands of Sir Reginald Dyott of Stichbrooke, a distant kinsman of her father's. He not only attached importance to it, but advised Sybil to mingle as usual in the procession, taking upon himself the preparation and the conduct of the proposed means of precaution.

Accordingly, the important Monday came. The various acts commencing with Edward the Confessor, confirmed by Henry the Second, and subsequently by Edward the First, at Winchester, established the rites of this festival, entitled

THE ARRAY OF ARMOUR.

The citizens confederated to defend the kingdom_against all foreigners and enemies. Every man between fifteen and sixty was to be assessed and sworn to armour, according to the amount of their property-the richest in a hauberke or breastplate of iron, a sword, a knife, and a horse; others a doublet, a breastplate of iron, a sword, and a knife; those less wealthy a sword, a bow and arrows, and a knife; others again were to keep gisarmes, knives, and other less weapons. Constables were to be sworn to survey these arms, and to note their defects. But the point most bearing on our story is, that these constables were to present "all such as do lodge strangers in uplandish towns, for whom they will not

answer.

It was after the service of Tierce had been performed in the Palace Chapel, on this high festival, that Sybil de Burghill, bearing a silver effigy of the Virgin, and attended by Sir Reginald Dyott and her Seneschal, with an escort of twenty men

at-arms, passed through the postern of the palace, and was ushered into the city through the Southern or Langton's Gate, as it was called, leading from the Close.. Lichfield had put on her beautiful garments. The different belfries mingled their sounds with numerous bands of music. Processions were moving in every quarter. Persons of the first consideration in the city and neighbourhood_vied with each other in their offerings. Mysteries and pageants showed their barbaric costume in every street. Bands of men, imitating, with shirts and ribbons, the Moresco costume, were seen in every corner performing sarabands, chaçons, &c., while the Priest of St. Mary's, in full pontificals, stood in the Church-porch, blessing, receiving, and ushering to their shrine the various images as they were presented.

Sybil, with her splendid suite, crossed the east angle of the Market-place; the crowd separating with the profoundest demonstrations of respect as she passed, and having made her offering and knelt to receive the old man's benediction, moved round the west end towards St. Michael's Hill, to inspect, according to usage, the array of armour displayed in a building erected for that purpose. When she arrived opposite the Pilgrim's Rest, in Tamworth Street, she saw, exactly as the unknown had told her, a superbly dressed and numerous troop of foresters, with vizards, representing the outlaws of merry Sherwood. So attractive was the appearance of these masquers, that Sybil for a single moment paused ere she disturbed their revels; but seeing them gradually advancing towards her, she looked in alarm to Sir Reginald Dyott ;-he gave the preconcerted signal, and in an instant the men-at-arms surrounded and arrested the two principal masquers with many of their band; they were quickly divested of their visors, &c. and discovered to the eyes of the astonished multitude at least more weapons and defensive armour than was stipulated by the "Court of Array," The leaders being no other than the noble Baron Walter, and his accomplice in all evil, the "pitiless and merciless" Captain, Warner.

We will, however, follow these worthies, who (while Sybil in the greatest consternation was escorted back to the Palace,) were accompanied by a vast crowd into the Guildhall, where the city magistrates were then holding their court. Close to the elevated seat of these functionaries, was discovered a female deeply muffled, in earnest conference, and on the prisoners being placed before them, the chief magistrate addressed her aloud.

"Here, then," said the woman, throwing back her muffler, and disclosing to the scowling Warner the hostess of the Brazen Helmet," here I proclaim that the much wronged Rosamund, styled Baroness of Courtnaye, still lives-that she hath been for months the thrall of the ruffian Warner, from whom my influence and presence have alone prevented her receiving the last indignity. She now languishes in a most cunning hiding-place, at the hostel of the Brazen Helmet, in the forest. My wretched husband is there, too, lunatic with remorse; and I, miserable woman, desperate of any longer interposing between that miscreant and his captive, appear in this court as one who harboureth strangers for whom she will not answer!"-here the unhappy being was conveyed from the hall in a strong fit.

"Sir Bailiff!" said De Courtnaye, whose proud spirit seemed broken to the ground at this dreadful exposure, and who had stood pale with humiliation and guilt-"Sir Bailiff, my sins have found me out

all that she has advanced is truebut it was that villain who, fostering iny evil designs when in their infancy, reared them till they became the monsters that are now dragged forth to the hatred of my fellows!"

"Our bond is cancelled, then, at last!" shouted Warner; and before an arm could be raised to prevent him, a concealed knife gleamed in his uplifted hand, and ere one pulse could quicken in that hall, was buried in the throat of De Courtnaye, where his armour left it exposed; he fell, choaked with blood, and expired instantly!

In the midst of the tumult that immediately arose in the court, loud cries were heard from without, and, as if to make "confusion more confounded," a horseman, draggled with dust and sweat, rushed into the Town Hall with the astounding intelligence that the Duke of Lancaster, whose landing had long been announced, was advancing to Lichfield, with Richard of Bordeaux in his keeping, and was now within a day's journey of the city. Fresh messengers poured in the Court rose in

the utmost disorder-and, when some thing like composure was restored, Warner was no where to be found. To be continued.

The Naturalist.

MUSCULAR STRENGTH OF INSECTS.

MOUFFET, in his Theatre of Insects, mentions that an English mechanic, named Mark, to shew his skill, constructed a chain of gold as long as his finger, which, together with a lock and key, were dragged along by a flea; and he had heard of another flea which could draw a golden chariot, to which it was harnessed. Bingley tells us that Mr. Boverich, a watchmaker in the Strand, exhibited some years ago a little ivory chaise with four wheels, and all its proper apparatus, and the figure of a man sitting on the box, all of which were drawn by a single flea. The same mechanic afterwards constructed a minute landau, which opened and shut by springs, with the figure of six horses harnessed to it, and of a coachman on the box, a dog between his legs, four persons inside, two footmen behind it, and a postillion riding on one of the fore horses, which were all easily dragged along by a single flea. Goldsmith remarks upon these displays of pulician strength, that the feats of Samson would not, to a community of fleas, appear to be at all miraculous. Latreille tells us a no less marvellous story of another flea, which dragged a silver cannon twenty-four times its own weight, mounted on wheels, and did not manifest any alarm when this was charged with gunpowder and fired off. Professor Bradley, of Cambridge, also mentions a remarkable instance of insect strength in a stag-beetle (Fucanus Cervus) which he saw carrying a wand a foot and a half long, and half an inch thick, and even flying with it to the distance of several yards.

It has been remarked, with reference to these facts of comparative size and strength, that a cock-chafer is six times stronger than a horse; and Linnæus observes, that if an elephant were as strong in proportion as a stag-beetle, it would be able to tear up rocks and level mountains. The muscular power of fish, however, seems to bear a near comparison with that of insects. "I have seen," says Sir Gilbert Blane, "the sword of a sword-fish sticking in a plank which it had penetrated from side to side; and when it is considered that the animal was then moving through a medium even a thousand times more dense than that