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SONNET ON CHILLON.

Eternal spirit of the chainless mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart-
The heart which love of thee alone can bind;
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd-

To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place,

And thy sad floor an altar-for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement was a sod, By Bonnivard!-May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.

BYRON.

April 4.

On the 4th of April, 1823, during the Taunton assizes, intense curiosity was excited by the appearance of the names of three females in the calendar, on a charge, under lord Ellenborough's act, of maliciously cutting and stabbing an old woman, a reputed "witch," with intent to murder her. The grand jury ignored the bill on the capital charge, but returned a true bill against the prisoners, Elizabeth Bryant the mother, aged fifty; Eliz. Bryant, the younger, and Jane Bryant, the two daughters, for having maliciously assaulted Anne Burges.

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Mr. Erskine stated the case to the jury. The reputed witch, Aun Burges, a fine hale-looking old woman, sixty-eight years of age, of rather imposing gravity, deposed that, on the 26th of November, she went to Mrs. Bryant's house, and "I said, Betty Bryant, I be come to ask you a civil question; whether I bewitched your daughter? '—She said, 'Yes, you have, you have bewitched her for the last twelve months;' and she said she was ten pounds the worse of it, and she would be totally d-d if she would not kill me. They all came out together, and fell upon me. The little daughter drew out my arm, and held it whilst one of the others cut at it. The eldest of them said, 'Bring me a knife, that we may cut the flesh off the old wretch's arms.' They tore my arms all over with an iron nail." The old woman described the manner of the outrage. She was ill from the wounds on her arm. A woman who accompanied her came in and dragged her away, and

cried out murder, as loud as they could, and a mob assembled in the street, round the door: they did not interfere, but exclaimed that the old woman, on whom the prisoners were exercising their fury, was a witch. The mother, and the elder daughter, held the witness as she struggled on the ground, whilst the younger daughter, with the first instrument that came to her hand, a large nail, lacerated her arm in a dreadful manner. This was done for nearly ten minutes, the mob standing by nearly the whole of the time and the old woman was rescued only by the vigorous efforts of her companion. She did not doubt that if a knife had been in the way, when she presented herself at the door, she would have been murdered.

Cross-examined." Do not the people of Wiviliscomb (truly or falsely, I don't say) account you to be a witch?"

The old woman (with great agitation)— "Oh dear; oh dear! that I should live to be three score and eight years old, and be accounted a witch, at last. Oh dear! what will become of me?"

"Well, it is very hard, certainly; but do they not account you to be a witch? "

It was some time before the old woman could answer intelligibly that she had never been accounted a witch in her life (God forbid !) by any one, before the prisoners circulated it about the town that she was, and that she had exercised her infernal influence over one of them. She always tried to live righteously and peaceably, without doing harm to any one. She was greatly afflicted at the injurious supposition.

An apprentice to Mr. North, a surgeon

at Wiviliscomb, deposed that, on the night in question, the prosecutrix came to him. He found her arm dreadfully lacerated. There were fifteen or sixteen incisions upon it, of about a quarter of an inch, and others an eighth of an inch deep, and from two to three inches and three inches and a half long; she bled very severely; witness dressed her arm, and, as she was healthy, it got well fast; but she was ill for more than a month, in consequence

of the attack.

The counsel for the prisoners said he did not mean to deny the fact of the assault, but he wished to show the infatuation under which they had acted.

Mr. Erskine said he could adduce evidence which would show the gross delusion under which the prisoners had labored; and he was perfectly willing that they should have any benefit that they might derive from it.

An old woman, Elizabeth Collard, was then called, who said she was an acquaintance of the elder prisoner, and met her on the morning of the day of the assault, not having seen her before for a long time. The witness said, we were talking about our troubles, when she told me that her troubles were greater than mine, or any body's troubles, for they were not mortal troubles. She said her daughter had been bewitched for the last twelve months, and that she had been to consult old Baker, the Devonshire wizard, about her case, who had given her a recipe against witchcraft, and said that blood must be drawn from the witch to break the charm; she said that old Mrs. Burges was the witch, and that she was going to get blood from her. "She was in such a way, that I thought she would have gone immediately to Mrs. Burges, to have drawn blood, but I advised her not, and to let old Baker punish her, if she really was the witch."

Mr. Justice Burrough." Who is old Baker?"

He is a

Witness." Oh! my lord, he is a great conjuror, the people say. good deal looked up to by the poor people in these parts

Mr. Justice Burrough.-"I wish we had the fellow here. Tell him, if he does not leave off his conjuring, he will be caught, and charmed in a manner he will not like." The witness resumed. I pitied the woman, she was in such a world of troubles; and, besides that, she has had a great many afflictions with her family, but she appeared to feel the bewitching of her

daughter very deeply. I asked how the witchcraft worked upon her, and she told me that, when her daughter was worked upon, she would dance and sing, just as if she was dancing and singing to a fiddle, in a way that there was no stopping her, before she dropped down, when the fiend left her. Whilst the fit was upon her, she would look wished (wild or frighted), and point at something, crying, there she stands! there she stands! (the witch). I felt for the daughter, very much. Her state is very pitiable, my lord."

Mr. Rodgers addressed the jury, in behalf of the prisoners. He said, that to attempt to deny that a verdict of guilty must be given against the miserable females at the bar would be to insult the understandings of the intelligent gentlemen in the box. His observations would be rather for the purpose of showing the unfortunate delusion under which the prisoners had been actuated; the infamous fraud that had been practised upon them; their miserable afflictions; and to induce the jury to give, with their verdict, a recommendation of mercy to his lordship.

Mr. Justice Burrough said that course could not be allowed, if the fact were not denied. Any observations in mitigation might be addressed to him after the verdict.

The jury found all the prisoners guilty.

Mr. Rodgers, in mitigation of punishment, begged his lordship to consider the delusion by which the unfortunate prisoners had been actuated.

Mr. Erskine said he should not say a word in aggravation of punishment. He was instructed by the prosecutors to state that they should feel fully satisfied with any sentence that might have the tendency of preventing the future operation of the belief, in those places where its greatest influence was exercised.

Mr. Justice Burrough said, if such a fellow as Baker lived in Devonshire, or in any part of the country, and pursued such practices as were ascribed to him, there was a very useful act of parliament, recently passed, which provided for the punishment of such offences; and his lordship hoped the magistrates of the county would prosecute him, and bring him to punishment. His lordship then addressed the prisoners, and sentenced each to be further imprisoned in the county gaol, for the space of four calendar months. The following are copies of the recipe and charm, against witchcraft, which Baker gave to the poor dupes :—

"The gar of mixtur is to be mixt with half pint of gen (i. e. gin), and then a table spoon to be taken mornings, at eleven o'clock, four, and eight, and four of the pills to be taken every morning, fasting, and the paper of powder to be divided in ten parts, and one part to be taken every night going to bed, in a little honey."

"The paper of arbs (herbs) is to be burnt, a small bit at a time, on a few coals, with a little hay and rosemary, and while it is burning read the two first verses of the 68th Salm, and say the Lord's Prayer after."

As the preparations had been taken by the ignorant creatures, it could not be ascertained what they were; but it was affirmed that, after the rites had been all performed, such was the effect upon the imagination of the poor girl who fancied herself possessed, that she had not had a fit afterwards. The drawing of blood from the supposed witch remained to be performed, in order to destroy her supposed influence.*

CUNNING MEN.

[For the Year Book.]

The following is a copy of an application from two "learned clerks" to king Henry VIII., for lawful permission to show how stolen goods may be recovered; to see and converse with spirits, and obtain their services; and to build churches. It was given to me a few years ago, by a gentleman in the Record office, where the original is deposited. I believe it has never yet appeared in print. The document is signed "Joannes Consell, Cantab; et Joan. Clarke, Oxonian, A.D. 1531." It appears that the license desired was fully granted by the first "Defender of the Faith ;" who indeed well deserved that title, if he believed in the pretensions of his supplicants.

A. A. R.

To King Henry VIII.

My sufferynt lorde, and prynce moste gracyus, and of all crystiants the hedde, whych yn this realme of Yngland moste excellent doe dwelle, whoys highness ys most woorthy of all due subjection: where

Newspaper of the time.

fore we, as subjects true, cume unto your majestye moste woorthy, wyllinge to shewe sych cunynge and knowledge, as God of his hyness hath sent and geyven unto us: the wyche shall (whythe hys infinite grace) pleyse your dygnyte so hey, and be for the comfort and solace off all your realme so ryall. The wyche knowlege, not longe agonne happenyd to us (I trust in God) by good chance and fortune; and to use yt to your noble pleysure yt is very necessary and expedient. Truly we have yt not by dayly study and laboure of extronomy, but we have yt by the dylygent laboure and drawyt of others, exelent and perfyt men (as ever was any) of that facultye. Notwithstandyng, we have studeyed the speculation of yt by there wrytynge, whyche was dyffyculte and peynfull for Wherefore we mykely desire your grace to pardon us to practys the same, not only for the altyed of our mynde, but specyally for your gracyus pleasure; for wythout your pardon yt is unlaueful: neverthelesse, wyth your lycense, yt is marvylus precyus, and of all treasure moste valyant, as the thyng itself dothe shewe, yn the whyche theys sayeng here folowing be conteyned thereyn.

us.

1. Pryncypally, yt showys how a man may recover goodys wrongfully taken away; and yt is true, as the auctor dothe say, the whyche affermys all the woother seyings that we will bryng.

2. Secondarily ys to procure dygnyte of the sprytes of the ayre.

3. Thirdly ys to obtayne the treasure that be in the sea and the erthe.

4. Fourthly ys off a certeyn noyntment to see the sprytys, and to speke to theym dayly.

5. Fyftly ys to constreyne the sprytys of the ayre to answer truley to suche questions as shall be asked of theym, and in no degree to be dyssetefulle.

6. Syxtly to have the famylyaryte of bodely, as men, and do your commandthe sprytys, that they may serve you ment in all thyngs, wythowt any dyssete.

7. Sevenly ys to buylde chyrches, bryges, and walls, and to have cognycyon of all scyeucys, wythe many woother woorthe things; the whych ye shall knowe after thys, yf yt pleyse your grace.

And now, consequently, ye shall here the pystell of freere Roger Bacon, the whych he wrytt lyeing in his dethe bedde, certifeying the faculte that we have spokeyn upon; and that ys this:

The Epistle of Roger Bacon.* My beloved brother, Robert Sennahoi, receive this treasure which even I, brother Roger Bacon, now deliver to thee; namely, the work on necromancy, written in this little book. It bears the test of truth, for whatsoever was to be found in it I have often proved; and it is known to every one that I have formerly spoken many wonderful things. And thou art not doubtful, but well assured, that had I not possessed this volume I should never have been able to accomplish any thing important in this particular art. Moreover, even now must I declare the same unto thee, for every thing set down in this book doth most plainly avouch itself. Of these my words may the most high God bear witness, and so judge me in the tremendous day when he shall pass

sentence.

And now, oh my sincerest friend Robert, my brother Sennahoi, I entreat thee, that thou wilt most diligently pray to God for me, and particularly, also, for the soul of brother Lumberd Bungey, of my kindred, who, at my desire, most faithfully translated into the Latin tongue, from the work of holy Cyprian, this same book, which he also sent to me; and hence it is, that with all my heart I beseech that you will pray, not for me only, but also for him; for indeed I believe that my last hour is close at hand, and that death will forthwith overtake me; therefore in this manner have I written. Not only thee, my dear brother, but even you, all dwellers upon earth, do I implore that you do especially pray that I, and he, and indeed all souls already departed, may be received into calm and quiet repose. This my unfeigned wish have I, thy brother Roger Bacon, written in my ultimate struggle with death, now present with me in my bed. Oh, my most amiable Sennahoi, prosper thou in our Lord Jesus Christ. Again and again I implore thee, that thou suffer not thyself in any manner to forget

I have ventured to translate this "Epistle," which, in the original document, is in Latin. A. A. R.

+I do not recollect meeting with this name elsewhere. A. A. R.

"Consanguinitatis meæ." The friendship of Friar Bacon and Friar Bungey has been familiar to me fron my early childhood; but I never heard of their relationship until I saw this letter. A. A. R.

me, and that thou wilt wholly remember cations: also, I pray that I may be kept in me in all, even thy least prayers and supplimind by all good men; but for this purpose, to all of you to whom this work shall come, this same little book (certified to me by Lumberd Bungey) shall fully suffice. And scarcely shall you be able nature, for nothing can be more excellent to bring forward one of a more excellent than it is; because, whatsoever was for

merly mine, by means of this book did I

obtain it. Farewell.

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And set it all awry.

He stood upright upon his legs-
Long life to good king Cole!
With wine and cinnamon, ale and eggs,
He filled a silver bowl;

He drained the draught to the very dregs,"
And he called the draught my whole.

of this, after your recipes for "night caps." Christmas time and winter nights are the proper seasons for riddles, which serve to drive "ennui, thou weary maid," away.

There can be no doubt of the solution

have perhaps on record is that propounded by the Sphinx, which, if we may believe report, was productive of any thing but mirth to the Thebans. This celebrated enigma, having the Greek before me,t I thus translate:

One of the earliest riddles which we

The very ancientest I find by the Every Day Book, vol. 2, 26, is in Judges xiv. 14-18. + Brunck's Sophocles, just before Edipus Tyrannus.

There is a thing on earth that hath two feet, And four, and three (one name howe'er), Its nature it alone of earthly things,

Of those that swim the deep and fly the air, Doth change; and when it rests upon most feet,

Then (strange to tell!) then are its steps less

fleet.

For which puzzling enigma Edipus returns an answer, which runs thus,Listen, unwilling, ill-starred bird awhile, List to my voice which ends thy dreadful guile. Thou meanest man, who just after his birth, Like animals, four-footed, crawls the earth; But, being old, takes, as third foot, a staff, Stretching his neck, by old age bent in half.

Since the time of the Theban dipus, how many enigmas, and various kinds of riddles, have been invented! The letters of the alphabet have proved a fruitful source; witness lord Byron's celebrated enigma on the letter H. Then the one on O, and a pithy one on E, which for its shortness I give:

The beginning of eternity, the end of time and space,

The beginning of every end, and the end of every place.

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PILGARLIC.

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Starch hy acinth flowers.
Crown imperial in full flower.
Great saxifrage begins to flower.

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April 6.

On the 6th of April, 1199, died Richard I., commonly called Cœur de Lion. He was the first king of England who applied the plural term to the regal dignity.

Bertrand de Born, a troubadour so early as the last half of the twelfth century, refers to Richard Cœur de Lion in the chivalric verses below, by this appellation

"THE LORD OF OC AND NO." The beautiful spring delights me well,

When flowers and leaves are growing;
And it pleases my heart to hear the swel
Of the birds' sweet chorus flowing
In the echoing wood;

And I love to see, all scattered around,
Pavilions, tents, on the martial ground;
And my spirit finds it good

To see, on the level plains beyond,
Gay knights and steeds aaparisoned.
It pleases me when the lancers bold
Set men and armies flying;
And it pleases me to hear around
The voice of the soldiers crying;
And joy is mine

When the castles strong, besieged, shake,
And walls, uprooted, totter and crack;
And I see the foemen join,

On the moated shore all compassed round
With the palisade and guarded mound...r
Lances and swords, and stained helms,
And shields dismantled and broken,
On the verge of the bloody battle scene,
The field of wrath betoken;

And the vassals are there,
And there fly the steeds of the dying and dead;
And, where the mingled strife is spread,
The noblest warrior's care

rung

Is to cleave the foeman's limbs and head,-
The conqueror less of the living than dead.
I tell you that nothing my soul can cheer,
Or banqueting, or reposing,
Like the onset cry of "Charge them"
From each side, as in battle closing,
Where the horses neigh,
And the call to "aid " is echoing loud;
And there on the earth the lowly and proud
In the foss together lie;

And yonder is piled the mangled heap
Of the brave that scaled the trench's steep.
Barons! your castles in safety place,

Your cities and villages too,

Before ye haste to the battle scene;

And, Papiol quickly go,

And tell the Lord of "Oc and No "
That peace already too long hath been!

Tales of the Minnesingers.

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