"Tell me what wants me here, to worke delyte,

The simple ayre, the gentle warbling winde,
So calm, so coole, as no where else I finde,
The grassy ground, with daintie daysies dight,
The bramble bush, where birdes of every
kind,

To waterfalls their tunes attemper right."
Spenser.

This question I proposed to myself as I strolled leisurely onwards one summer'sday through the green fields and shadowy orchards of the garden of England, lulled into contemplation by the pleasant lapse of waters every now and then crossing my path, or gliding away fleetly beside me. I was wandering towards Otham, a pretty village not far from Maidstone, through scenery beautifully undulated, and beneath a sky whose silent depth was studded with bright clouds like ice-flakes, broken on the slope of some weary current, and floating rapidly apart through the calm hyaline above,

while the scene below was as full of life year's youth when "all things that love as in one of those brightest days of the the sun are out of doors." I have attempted to describe it in the following

lines:

Though with fair speech and music ever new
The woods are vocal, and the waters too;
Sounds less presuming, but to fancy dear,
Come indistinctly o'er the wakeful ear,
The whirring beetle as it blindly heaves
The scrambling black-thorn, or the sapling's
leaves,

Or dash of pebbles in that brooklet's tide,
As the wren nestles in its grassy side.

Oh! could I lose the world, and, thus beguiled,

Pass all my days in some secluded wild! For all it proffers seems, compared to this, A thirsty desert, where no water is.

"Part shaded by cool leafy elms, and part
Offering a sunny resting-place to those
Who seek the house of worship, while the bells
Yet ring with all their voices, or before
The last hath ceased its solitary knoll."

I procured the key of the church, the interior of which manifests unusual neatness. It contains a chaste and appropriate tablet to the memory of Dr. Horne, late bishop of Norwich, whose "Commentary on the Psalms will continue to be a companion to the closet, till the devotions of earth shall end in the halleJujahs of Heaven."

On the south side of the altar is a brass plate, with figures of a man, his wife, and seven children, thus inscribed :

"In God is all my trust.

Here lyeth the body of Thomas Hendley, esquier by degre,

The yongest sone of Jervis Hendley, of Corsworne in Cramkebrocke, Gent'man known to bc, Who gave a house, and also land, the Fifteene for to paye,

And to relieve the people pore of this parishe

for aye

He died the day of

Judas sold

from Him that

"I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's chamber because I was cold,

And I had, in my purse, seven pounds four shillings and six pence, besides farthings, in money and gold."

The hiatus in the fifth line the reader

may fill up ad libitum, as the poetry will not suffer by the introduction or omission of a few syllables, the "first day of May," or the "twenty-second day of December," being equally eligible for that purpose.

One of the bells has the following inscription:

Johannes Christi care dignare pro
nobis orare.

There was formerly a religious house at Otham, founded by Ralph de Dene, the ground for which was given by Sir Robert de Thurnham, who afterwards went into Palestine with "Richard, who robbed the lion of his heart," where he signalized himself so much as to obtain this honorable mention in one of our

old chroniclers :

Robert de Thornham with his fauchion, 'an to crake many a crown, "But," says Weever, "he was so busy in cracking the Saracins crownes that he tooke the lesse heede (I think) of his owne, for then and there he was slaine." D. A.

October 28.

WAR.

October 28, 1467, Erasmus was born. "Poor in the world, but rich in genius; obscure in his birth and unpreferred at his death, but illustrious by his virtues; he became the self-appointed champion of man, a volunteer in the service of miserable mortals, an unbought advocate in the cause of those who could only repay him with their love and their prayers -the poor outcast, the abject slave of superstition or tyranny, and all the nameless numberless sons of want and woe, born only to suffer and to die," This estimate of him is from the preface to a translation by the late Rev. Dr. Vicessimus Knox, of Erasmus's "Antipolemus, or the Plea of Reason, Religion, and Humanity against War."

Erasmus was the uncompromising advocate for Peace; and it was in a similar character that Dr. Knox became his translator, and says, in an excellent preface to Erasmus's treatise, "The total

abolition of War, and the establishment of perpetual and universal Peace, appear to me to be of more consequence than any thing ever achieved, or even attempted, by mere mortal man since the creation. The goodness of the cause is certain, though its success for a time be doubtful. Yet will I not fear. I have chosen ground, solid as the everlasting hills, and firm as the very firmament of heaven. I have planted an acorn; the timber and the shade are reserved for posterity."

Twilight ends

CARVING.

[For the Year Book.]

There is many a proverbial expression which passes current with the multitude for much less than its value; or, if it possess no deeper meaning than is vulgarly attached to it, deserves to rank among the Popular Fallacies" which our Elia has so cleverly and quaintly exposed. Among the number is this one

Help yourself and your friends will like you the better." This, they imagine, savours strongly of rough hospitality; it is perpetually bubbling from the lips of your hearty good fellow;" it is the understood invitation to sociality and sottish

ness.

66

It is, in brief, as he fancies, as if he

October 29.

CITY COMPANIES.

On the 29th of October, 1742 (being Lord Mayor's Day, old style) Robert Willimot, Esq., the new lord mayor of London, was with the usual solemnity sworn into that office at Westminster, for the year ensuing. On that occasion it was remarkable that notwithstanding the common notion that a lord mayor must be free of one of the twelve companies, his lordship broke through that custom, upon the advice of counsel that there was no law for it. His lordship was of the Cooper's company, and would have been translated to the Clothworker's, which is one of the twelve; but his admission to the Clothworker's being carried but by a small majority, and that company having at the same time refused him the use of their hall, he was resolved to give them no farther trouble. It is only necessary that the lord mayor for the time being should be free of one of the twelve companies, in case he should require to be president of the Irish Committee.* Besides the discharge of duties of great importance in their halls, the twelve companies there uphold those ancient festivities, for which they have acquired especial fame, and whence the members of their courts derive the deserved reputation of being acquainted with the alderman's walk," in the art of carving.

Maitland.

don't sit there looking wretched and watching every one imploringly, till they ask you to try a bit more, or bothering all the company with your officious civilities, that they may take the hint and return the compliment."

But, in truth, the expression has nothing friendly about it; it is a reproof to idleness, rather than an exhortation to merriment. It was the production of that golden age of comfort and civilization, when every man carved for himself! and implies no more than this-" Help yourself, for, if you do not, nobody else will!" It was a maxim worthy of those primeval ages of innocence and happiness, when the solitary host had not to carve for a whole host of consumers-when it was not his part only to "cut," and that of the others to come again!"

It has been observed, most truly, that "We never feel so benevolent, as we do when we have dined !" but we cannot be expected to exhibit much philanthropy until we have arrived at that happy crisis. Never can human magnanimity be more severely tried, than in being required, while his fat is condensing and his gravy congealing ("Grave exitium," as Apicius would have called it), to lend a helping hand to his neighbour!

It was the custom in the primitive ages (as it is to this day among unsophisticated nations, those who have not yet learnt to sacrifice the comfortable institutions of their forefathers to the idols of fashion and innovation) for the guests to sit at the

See Dr. Clarke's account of a Russian

dinner.

table as their rank entitled them to precedence: the host headed the board; a post then of profit as well as honor, for it was his privilege to cut off the tit-bits for himself! he then passed the dish to his next neighbour, who carved it according to his fancy, and pushed it down to the guest below him. In the lapse of ages, however, the impolicy of this practice became apparent; the joint for where many dined together it must have been a joint-concern!-soon cut so sorry a figure that the fastidious would be sorry to cut it, after it had been first mangled by the aristocracy above, then to be washed by the tears of famishing plebeians was contrary to all reason and religion. But it was difficult, at first, to find a remedy for the evil: there was no gentleman patriotic enough to sacrifice both his food and his first choice (as the host does now) for the public benefit. In this dilemma, they were obliged to entrust the important office of cutting and distributing the meat to a servant (I should say a slave), to one whose impartiality was guaranteed by the impossibility of his enjoying what he carved.

At first, as it may be supposed, the duty was but clumsily performed; any servant would do for the occasion; perhaps the very cook that decorated the roasted peacock with gold leaf was often compelled to join the two professions, as they are now united, and be both "carver and gilder." In time, however, it became a particular profession; the servant whose sole employment it was, in fact, was a menial anatomist; he was instructed by regular professors in the science of carving, and practised his art with pride and dexterity. The poet Juvenal + thus introduces him: "The carver, dancing round, each dish surveys

With flying knife; and, as his heart directs,
With proper gesture every fowl dissects.
A thing of so great moment to their taste,
That one false slip-had surely marr'd the
feast."

The carver, who had arrived at such eminence in his profession, was, of course, to be met with only in the houses of the great; the same satirist, in a subsequent place, declares that in his humble abode no such proficient was to be found.

This will both explain and justify the indignation of Alexidemus, at being placed at the bottom of the table, at ** the banquet of the seven sages."-Plutarch. Satire the 5th.

"No dexterous carvers have I got, "Such as by skilful Trypherus are taught; In whose famed schools the various forms appear

Of fishes, beasts, and all the fowls of the air; And where, with blunted knife, his scholars learn

How to dissect, and the nice joint discern; While all the neighbourhood are with noise oppress'd

From the harsh carving of his wooden feast."

The meaning of the last two lines is literally" and the supper of Elmwood sounds through the whole suburb." By this passage we are informed that, at the "schools for carving," the instructor produced wooden models of various victuals, carved out into pieces as the originals ought to be, and fastened together, as Rupert supposes, by threads or glue, which the pupil had to separate with a blunt instrument.

The accomplished carver had not merely to anatomise the dainty before him, but to let his operations keep time to the music which played throughout the dinner. "The carvert (says the lively chamberlain of Nero) lacerates the victuals, making such gesticulations to the concert, that you would think he was fighting Darius while the music was playing." We cannot now accurately discover what were the tunes played at entertainments, but we may reasonably conjecture that they were appropriate to the occasion; "The Roast Beef of Old England,"undoubtedly,

was one!

Annæus Seneca, who wasted his sympathy on those who had no cause for sorrow, lamenting the forlorn condition of Roman slaves, enumerates their several "Another (says he) distressing offices.

cuts up the precious poultry; twisting his skilful hand in appointed strokes, he divides the breasts and the backs into pieces. Unhappy he who lives but for this one purpose, that he may carve fat fowls with neatness!"

It is utterly impossible to trace the progress of the science through the stormy ages that succeeded the luxurious emperors of Rome. Rome perished; and civilization died, like a Hindoo widow, upon its funeral pile! Carving, perhaps, fell with them; but it rose again phoenix from the ashes (though my cock

Satire the 11th. † Petronius. Epistle the 47th.

a

ney friends perhaps may say carving has nothing to do with hashes) in renovated vigour! After the dark curtain of the middle ages was withdrawn from the stage of history, we find the office of carver no longer entrusted to the hands of slaves, but devolved upon the highest officer in the household of the knight and

the nobleman-"the_squire." For a description of this important situation I must refer my readers to the page of Mills, or James,t or Stebbing; it is enough for me to remind them that it was a post of high respectability, and responsibilty-one frequently filled by the very sons of the master of the establishment. Chaucer introduces us to the son of the knight, under the title of "the Squier," and thus describes him :

"Curteis he was, lowly, and servisable, And carf befor his fader at the table." ||

"The Squier" is again described in two other places, in the same author, as performing a similar duty :

"Now stood the Lordes squier atte bord, That carf his mete;"§

and Damian, who is more familiar to the public in his more modern costume in Pope's January and May,

"

Carf befor his knight full many a day."¶ When the duty of carving had once reached this height of gentility, it had but one step more to reach the summit of its glory; when it had once become a post of honor, and its labours were considered those of affection and endearment, it of course was soon dignified by the performance of softer and fairer fingers; it soon became the pleasing office of the wife or daughter! It was theirs to execute the tender part of selecting a tender part for the happy eater. Thus did the interesting and unfortunate Lady Isabell; for we are told by the poet,

"Now when this lord he did come home,
For to sit down and eat,
He called for his daughter deare

To come and carve his meat.' " **

story is now fully accredited as it deserves; and is no longer considered what is vulgarly called "a cram” (i. e. a fiction); affection, and not indolence, was the origin of the amiable institution.

When the office of carving was entrusted to the fair hands of the ladies, we may well conceive it would soon be brought to exquisite perfection as ment; and it was so. an accomplishIn the reign of our second Charles, it appears that there were regular academies for the instruction of novices in this genteel and useful science :-Cowley "falls into the wonder and complaint of Columella, how that it should come to pass," that there was no professor of agriculture, while "even vaulting, fencing, dancing, attiring, cookery, carving, and such like vanities, should all have public schools and masters."||

Instruction is by no means unnecessary, in an art requiring so much manual dexterity as carving; many an exalted genius could never attain to any decent expertness. Montaignes among his many imperfections, which he is so free to confess, candidly declares, "I cannot handsomely fold up a letter, nor could ever

* Anat. of Melanch. vol. 2. + Comedy of Errors, act 2, 2 Bruce's Travels. Essay on Agriculture. "On Presumption."