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tommit new. Virgins came hither who seldom went rirgins away, Nor was this a convent peculiarly wicked ; every convent at that period was equally soud of pleasure, and gave a boundless loose to o: The laws allowed it; each priest had a right to a favourite companion, and a power of dis. carding her as often as he pleased. The laity grumbled, quarrelled with their wives and daughters, hated their confessors, and maintained them in opulence uld ease. These, these were happy times, Mr. Rigmarule; these were times of piety, bravery, and simPlacity!” “Not so very happy, neither, good madam; Pretty much like the present; those that labour starve; and those that do nothing, wear fine clothes

and live in luxury.” "In this manner the fathers lived, for some years, without molestation; they transgressed, confessed themselves to each other, and were forgiven. One evening, however, our prior keeping a lady of distinction somewhat too long at confession, her husband unexpectedly came in upon them, and testified all the indignation which was natural upon such an ocoasion. The prior asured the gentleman that it was the devil who had put it into his heart; and the lady was very certain, that she was under the influence * magic, or she could never have behaved in so unothful a manner. The husband, however, was not ** be put off by such evasions, but summoned both *kre the tribunal of justice. His proofs were flaant, and he expected large damages. Such, indeed, * had a right to expect, were the tribunals of those * constituted in the same manner as they are now. • cause of the priest was to be tried before an as. *ably of priests, and a layman was to expect re* only from their o and candour. wou plea then do you think the prior, made to ob: ** this accusation? He denied the fact, and oulenged the plaintiff to try the merits of their cause ly single combat. It was a little hard, you may be * upon the poor gentleman, not only to be made oruckold, but to be obliged to fight a duel into the nin; yet such was the justice of the times. The * threw down his glove, and the injured husband


was obliged to take it up, in token of his accepting the challenge. “Upon this, the priest supplied his champion, for it was not lawful for the clergy to fight; and the defendant and plaintiff, according to custom, were put in prison; both ordered to fast and pray, every method being previously used to induce both to a confession of truth. After a month's imprisonment, the hair of each was cut, the bodies anointed with oil, the field of battle appointed and guarded by soldiers, while his majesty presided over the whole in person. Both the champions were sworn not to seek victory either by fraud or magic. They prayed and confessed upon their knees; and after these ceremonies, the rest was left to the courage and conduct of the combatants. As the champion whom the prior had pitched upon, had fought six or eight times upon similar occasions, it was no way extraordinary to find him victorious in the present combat. In short, the husband was discomfited; he was taken from the field of battle, stripped of his shirt, and after one of his legs was cut off, as justice ordained in such cases, he was hanged as a terror to future offenders. These, these were the times, Mr. Rig. marole you see how much more just, and wise, and valiant, our ancestors were than us.” “I rather fancy, madam, that the times then were o much like our own; where a multiplicity of laws give a judge as much power as a want of law ; since he is ever sure to find among the number some to countenance his partiality.” “Our convent, victorious over their enemies, now gave a loose to every demonstration of joy. The lady became a nun, the prior was made bishop, and three Wickliffites were burned in the illuminations and fire-works that were made on the present occasion. Our convent now began to enjoy a very high degree of reputation. There was not one in London, that had the character of hating heretics so much as ours. Ladies of the first distinction chose from our convent their confessors; in short, it flourished, and might have flourished to this hour, but

for a fatal accident which terminated in its over

throw. The lady whom the prior had placed in a nunnery, and whom he continued to visit for some time with great punctuality, began at last to perceive that she was quite forsaken. Secluded from conversation, as usual, she now entertained the visions of a devotee; found, herself strangely disturbed; but hesitated in determining, whether she was possessed by an angel or a daemon. She was not long in suspence; for, upon vomiting a large quantity of crooked pins, and finding the palms of her hands turned out: wards, she quickly concluded that she was possessed by the devil. She soon lost entirely the use of speech; and, when she seemed to speak, every body that was i. perceived that her voice was not her own, ut that of the devil within her. In short, she was bewitched; and all the difficulty lay in determining who it could be that bewitched her. The nuns and monks all demanded the magician's name, but the devil made no reply; for he knew they had no authority to ask questions. By the rules of witchcraft, when an evil spirit has taken possession, he may refuse to answer any questions asked him, unless they are put by a bishop, and to these he is obliged to reply. A bishop, therefore, was sent for, and now the whole secret came out : the devil reluctantly owned that he was a servant of the prior; that, by his command, he resided in his present habitation; and that, without his command, he was resolved to keep in possession. The bishop was an able exorcist; he drove the devil out by force of mystical arms; the prior was arraigned for witchcraft; the witnesses were strong and numerous agaiust him, not less than fourteen persons being by, who had heard the devil talk Latin. There was no resisting such a cloud of witnesses; the prior was condemned ; and he who had assisted at so many burnings, was burned himself in turn. These were times, Mr. Rigmarole; the people of those times were not infidels, as now, but sincere believers!” “Equally faulty with ourselves: they believed what the devil was pleased to tell them; and we seem resolved, at last, to believe neither God nor devil.” “After such a stain upon the convent, it was not

to be supposed it could subsist any longer; the to thers were ordered to decamp, and the house ** once again converted into a tavern. The king onferred it on one of his cast mistresses; she was costituted landlady by royal authority; and as to tavern was in the neighbourhood of the court, and the mistress a very polite woman, it began to ho more business than ever; and sometimes took -less than four shillings a day. “Under the care of this lady, the tavern gointo great reputation; the courtiers had not * learned to game, but they paid it off by drinkits drunkenness is ever the vice of a barbarous. -gaming of a luxurious age. They had not such to quent entertainments as the moderns have, but --> more expensive and more luxurious in those to had. All their fooleries were more elaborate, i. more admired by the great and the vulgar than to A courtier has been known to spend his whole tune at a single feast, a king to mortgage his d, . nions to furnish out the frippery of a tourner: There were certain days appointed for riot an: bauchery, and to be sober at such times was rea crime. Kings themselves set the example : ihave seen monarchs in this room drunk W. entertainment was half concluded. These were . times, sir, when kings kept mistresses, and roles in public; they were too plain and simple in happy times to hide their vices, and act the hylas Ilow. ." Upon this lady's decease the tavern wo-s sosively occupied by adventurers, bullies piro gamesters. Towards the conclusion of th: ... Henry VII. gaming was more universally England than even now. Kings themso. known to play off, at Primero, **t ortly all thr = and jewels they could part with, bu in churches. The last Henry play very room, not only the four great cathedral, but the fine lmage of St. Paul, who o upon the top of the spire, to Sir Miles Partnä to: them down * next day, and sold them

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." The last hostess of note I find upon record was *ne Rouse. She was born among the lower ranks the people; and by frugality and extreme comaisance, contrived to acquire a moderate fortune: is she might have enjoyed for many years, had she tunfortunately quarrelled with one of her neighors, a woman who was in high repute for sanctity rough the whole parish. In the times of which I oak, two women seldom quarrelled, that one did I accuse the other of witchcraft, and she who first strived to vomit crooked pins was sure to come off torious. The scandal ..". modern tea-table dif* widely from the scandal of former times; the onation of a lady's eyes at present, is regarded as compliment; but if a lady, formerly, should be - of having witchcraft in her eyes, it were much Her both for her soul and body, that she had no **t all. *In short, Jane Rouse was accused of witchcraft; Ithough she made the best defence she could, it all to no purpose ; she was taken from her own so the bar of the Old Bailey, condemned and extodaccordingly. These were times, indeed! when owomen confd not scold in safety. Since her time the tavern underwent several re. tions, according to the spirit of the times, or the tion of the reigning monarch. It was this day ... and the next a conventicle for enthusiasts. fore year noted for harbouring whigs, and the famous for a retreat to tories. Some years in high vogue, but at present it seems deThis only may be remarked in general, that, taverns flourish most, the times are then ravagant and luxurious.”—“Lord! Mrs. .." interrupted I, “you have really deceived ed a romance, and here you have been giving me only a description of the spirit is; if you have nothing but tedious remarks ate, seek some other hearer; I am de10 bearken only to stories.” - concluded, when my eyes and ears to my landlord, who had been all this

in the house, and was now got into the story of the cracked glass in the dining-room. -


Written in the age of Shakspeare. Three aprons, two dusters, the face of a pig, A dirty jack towel, a dish-clout and wig; A foot of a stocking, three caps and a frill, A busk and six buttons, mouse-trap and a quill; A comb and a thimble, with Madona bands, A box of specific for chops in the hands; Some mace and some cloves tied up in a rag, An empty thread paper and blue in a bag; Short pieces of ribbon, both greasy and black, A grater and nutmeg, the key of the jack; An inch of wax candle, a steel and a flint, A bundle of matches, a parcel of mint; A lump of old suet, a crimp for the paste, A pair of red garters, a belt for the waist; A rusty bent skewer, a broken brass cock, Some onions and tinder, and the draw'r lock; A bag for the pudding, a whetstone and string, A penny cross-bun, and a new curtain ring; A print for the butter, a dirty chemise, Two pieces of soap, and a large slice of cheese; Five teaspoons of tin, a large lump of rosin, The feet of a hare, and corks by the dozen ; A card to tell fortunes, a sponge and a can, A pen without ink, and a small patty-pan; A rolling-pin pasted, and common prayer book, Are the things which I found in the drawer of the cook.

A Long task.

The Rev. Mr. Milne, in a Report of the Missionary Society for China, o: “We want, sir, fifty millions of New Testaments for China; and after that about one-sixth of the population only would be supplied. I would ask no higher honour on earth, than to distribute the said number.” Now, if Mr. Milne had commenced the distribution of the said number at

me an account of the repairs he had made

the time the Ark rested on Mount Ararat, and had


continued to distribute forty-three Testaments per day, Sundays excepted, he would have on hand, April 4, 1817, seven hundred and thirteen thousand, seven hundred and forty-seven. Or, should he now begin his work, and distribute ten each hour during ten hours per day, he would end his labour on the 27th day of January, 3411, at one o'clock in the forenoon | | |


In Anna's wars immortal Churchill rose, And, great in arms, subdued Britannia's foes; A greater Churchill now commands our praise, And the palm wields her empire to the bays; Tho' John fought nobly at his army's head, And slew his thousands with the balls of lead, Yet must the hero to the bard submit, Who hurls, unmatch'd, the thunderbolts of wit. - - Love’s vrr drct. A coroner's jury having sat on the body of a young lady in Baltimore, America, who had hung herself in a fit of love frenzy, brought in their verdict—Died by the visitation of Cupid. A reasonable novelty.

Pretition of Lord Christ ER field. To the King's most excellent Majesty, the humble Petition of Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, Knight of the most noble Order of the Garter, &c. Sheweth, That your petitioner, being rendered by deafness as useless o inefficient as most of his contemporaries are by nature, hopes in common with them, to share your majesty's royal favour and bounty, whereby he may be enabled to save or to spend, as he may think proper, a great deal more than i. Possibly can at present. That your petitioner having had the honour to serve your majesty in several very lucrative employments, seems thereby entitled to a lucrative retreat from business, and to enjoy otium cum dignitate, that is, leisure and a large pension. Your petitioner humbly apprehends, that he

has a justifiable claim to a considerable pension,

as he neither wants, nor deserves, but only to (pardon, dread sir, an expression you are pretty wo used to) and insists upon it. - Your petitioner is little apt, and always unwillo to speak advantageously of himself; but as ** degree of justice is due to one's self, as well as * others, he begs leave to represent, that his kyo your majesty has always been unshaken, even in to worst of times; that particularly in the late wo tural rebellion, when the young Pretender bad vanced as far as Derby, at the head of an army to least three thousand men, composed of the flow” the Scotch nobility and gentry, who had vs. enough to avow, and courage enough to venture & lives in support of, their real principles, your so tioner did not join him, as unquestionably he w have done, had he been so inclined ; but, on contrary, raised at the public expense, sixteen to panies of one hundred men each, in defence of majesty's undoubted right to the imperial crews these realms, which service remains to this i unrewarded. Your petitioner is well aware that your major civil list must necessarily be in a very west languid condition, after the various and profuse cuations it has undergone; but at the same ties humbly hopes, that an argument which does to to have been urged against any other person soever, will not in a singular manner be urs to s, him, especially as he has some reasons to brow the deficiencies in the pension list will by no be the last to be made good by parliament. Your petitioner begs leave to observe that s pension is disgraceful, as it intimates opprobris digence on the part of the receiver, and a der sort of dole or charity on the part of the gives that a great one implies dignity and affinesee one side ; on the other, esteem and cotts. which doubtless your majesty must entertain highest degree for those great personages wbe. table names glate in capitals upon your F. nary list. Your petitioner humbly fiatter. that upon this principle less thau three ti will not be proposed to him, and if

ounds aJ. ade gold, the more agreeable. Your Petitioner persuades himself that your ma“y will not impute this his humble application to of mean interested motive, of which he has always of the utmost abhorrence.—No, sir! he confesses his rakness: honour alone is his object; honour is his aion; that honour which is sacred to him as a peer, of tender to him as a gentleman; that honour, in urt, to which he has sacrificed all other considerons.—It is upon this single principle that your utioner tolicits an honour, which at present in so traordinary a manner adorns the British Peerage; d which, in the most shining periods of ancient tree, distinguished the greatest men, who were in the Prytaneum at the expense of the public. Upon this honour, far dearer to your petitioner on his life, he begs leave, in the most solemn wner, to assure your majesty, that in case you II be pleased to grant this his most modest request, will É. support and promote, to the utst of his abilities, the very worst measures, that very worst iministers can suggest ; but, at the e time, should he unfortunately, and in a singuwaanner, be branded by a refusal, he thinks himwiliged in Honour to declare, that he will, with onest acrimony, oppose the very best measures + your majesty yourself shall ever propose or And your petitioner, &c.

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“That though some fops of Celia prate,
“Yet be not hers the praise;
“For, if she should be passing straight,
“Hem! she may thank her stays,
fool of 1)elia's figure talks,
“And celebrates her fame,
“But for my part, whene'er she walks,
“I vow I think she's lame.
“And see Ma'am Harriet toss her head,
“Lawk, how the creature stares:
“Well, well, thank heaven, it can't be said,
“I give myself such airs 1"
The Ode concludes with the following stanzas:
To woman every charm was given,
Design'd by all indulgent heaven,
To soften grief or care;
For ye were form'd to bless mankind,
To harmonize and soothe the mind:
Indeed, indeed, ye were.
But when from those sweet lips we hear
Ill nature's whisper, Envy's sneer,
Your power that moment dies :
Each coxcomb makes your name his sport,
And fools when angry will retort
What men of sense despise.
Leave then such vain disputes as these,
And take a nobler road to please.--
Let Candour guide your way;
So shall you daily conquests gain,
And captives, happy in your chain,
- Be proud to own your sway.

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