Here was something in his favourite old poet for the youth to work out into beautiful visions of a pleasant race o supernatural beings; who lived by day in the acorn cups of Arden, and by moonlight held their revels on the green sward of Avon-side, the ringlets of their dance being duly seen,

"Whereof the ewe not bites;"

who tasted the honey-bag of the bee, and held counsel by the light of the glowworm; who kept the cankers from the rosebuds, and silenced the hootings of the owl. But he had his story, too, of a "shrewd and knavish sprite," whether named Robin-Goodfellow, Kit-with-the-canstick, Man-in-the-oak, Fire-drake, Puckle, Tom-tumbler, or Hobgoblin. Did he not grind malt and mustard, and sweep the house at midnight, and was not his standing fee a mess of white milk? * Some day would William make a little play of Fairies, and Joan should be the Queen, and he would be the King; for he had talked with the Fairies, and he knew their language and their manners, and they were "good people," and would not mind a boy's sport with them.

But when the youth began to speak of witches there was fear and silence. For did not his mother recollect that in the year she was married Bishop Jewel had told the Queen that her subjects pined away, even unto the death, and that their affliction was owing to the increase of witches and sorcerers? Was it not known how there were three sorts of witches,-those that can hurt and not help, those that can help and not hurt, and those that can both help and hurt? † It was unsafe even to talk of them. But the youth had met with the history of the murder of Duncan King of Scotland, in a chronicler older than Holinshed. and he told softly, so that "yon crickets shall not hear it,"-that, as Macbeth and Banquo journeyed from Forres, sporting by the way together, when the warriors came in the midst of a laund three weird sisters suddenly appeared to them, in strange and wild apparel, resembling creatures of an elder world, and prophesied that Macbeth should be King of Scotland; and Macbeth from that hour desired to be King, and so killed the good King his liege lord. And then the story-teller and his listeners would pass on to safer matters-to the calculations of learned men who could read the fates of mankind in the aspects of the stars; and of those more deeply learned, clothed in garments of white linen, who had command over the spirits of the earth, of the water, and of the air. Some of the children said that a horse-shoe over the door, and vervain and dill, would preserve them, as they had been told, from the devices of sorcery. But their mother called to their mind that there was security far more to be relied on than charms of herb or horse-shoe-that there was a Power that would preserve them from all evil, seen or unseen, if such were His gracious will, and if they humbly sought Him, and offered up their hearts to Him, in all love and And to that Power this household then addressed themselves; and the night was without fear, and their sleep was pleasant.

• See Scot's 'Discovery of Witchcraft,' 1584.

+ Ibid.

THE Parish Register of Stratford is a tall, narrow book, of considerable thickness, the leaves formed of very fine vellum. This one book contains the entries cf Baptisms, Marriages, aud Burials. The Register commences with the record of a baptism, on the 25th of March, 1558. But it has not been previously stated (it ought to have been stated by Malone) that the entries, whether of Baptisms, Marriages, or Burials, are all, without exception, in the same handwriting, from the first entry, to September 14 in the year 1600. But although the Register is thus only a transcript for forty-two years, there is no reason to doubt its authenticity and perfect correctness; for each page is signed by Richard Bifield, the vicar, and four churchwardens, in attestation of its being a correct copy. Richard Bifield was vicar of Stratford from 1596 to 1610; and to him we are, in all probability, indebted for this transcript of the original Registers, which were most likely on loose leaves of paper. Subsequently, the Registers are not made at the time of the performance of the Church-office. They generally appear to be entered monthly; but sometimes the transcript seems to have been made at longer intervals. The signature of the churchwardens of the year is then affixed to each page as a testimonial of its accuracy.

The following List is transcribed verbatim from this Register Book It includes all the ente which are important to the general reader.

There are then entries of Ursula, 1588; Humphrey, 1590; Philippus, 1591;-children of

It appears by the Register of Burials that Dr. Hall, one of the sons-in-law of William Shakspere, was buried on the 26th November, 1635. He is described in the entry as " Medicus peritissimus." The Register contains no entry of the burial of Thomas Quiney. Elizabeth, the daughter of John and Susanna Hall, was baptized February 21, 1607 [1607-8]; and she is mentioned in her illustrious grandfather's will. The children of Judith, who was only married two months before the death of her father, appear to have been three sons, all of whom died before their mother.

NOTE ON THE ALLEGED POVERTY OF JOHN SHAKSPERE.

THE following are the principal documents upon which Malone's argument is established :—

1. "Burgus

Stratford.

}

Ad aulam ibm tent. xxix' die Januarii, ao regni dnæ Elizabeth, &c., vicesimo. At this hall yt is agreed that every alderman, except such underwrytten excepted, shali paye towards the furniture of three pikemen, ij billmen, and one archer, vis. viijd., and every burgess, except such underwrytten excepted, shall pay iijs. ivd.:

Mr. Plymley, V8.

Mr. Shaxpeare, iijs. ivd.

John Walker, ijs. vid.

Robert Bratt, nothinge in this place.

Thomas Brogden, ijs. vid.

William Brace, ijs.

Anthony Tanner, ijs. vid.

Sum, vili. xiiijd.

*

The inhabitants of every ward are taxed at this hall, as by notes to them delivered yt may appear."

2. "Ad aulam ibm tent. xixo. die Novembris ao regni dnæ Elizabeth, &c., xxio.

Itm. yt is ordeined that every alderman shall paye weekely towards the releif of the poore iiijd. saving John Shaxpeare and Robert Bratt, who shall not be taxed to pay any thinge. Mr. Lewes and Mr. Plimley are taxed to pay weekely, eyther of them iijd.,† and every burgesses are taxed to pay weekely at ijd. apece.”

3. "Stratford Curia dnæ Regina ibm tent. xiii. die Januarii, anno regni, &c., vicesimo Burgus.

octavo.

Ad hunc diem Servien ad Clavam burgi predict. retorn. pr. de distr. eis direct. versus Johem Shackspere ad sect. Johis Browne, qd predict. Johes Shackspere nihil habet unde distr. potest. Ideo fiat Ca. versus Johem Shackspere ad sect. Johis Browne, ɛi petatur."

4. "Debtes which are owing unto me, Roger Sadler.

Imprimis, of Mr. John Combes, the elder, for a horse, 3l.

Item, of the same J. C., due to me by bond at Christmas next, 201.

Item, of Richard Hathaway, alias Gardyner, of Shottery, 6l. 8s. 4d.

Item, of Edmond Lambart, and Cornishe, for the debt of Mr. John Shacksper. 51."

+ Malone here inserts, apecs

Malone has omitted, at this hall.

Here Malone has inserted, levari.

NOTE ON THE SCHOOL LIFE OF WILLIAM SHAKSPERE.

We have already referred to the two novelets of Tieck, in which he sketches out the early career of the poet. The following extract may be interesting to our readers. It is scarcely necessary to say that we do not take the same view as the German critic-that we do not think the schoolprogress of William Shakspere was slow; that he suffered from the strict temper of his father, and was the witness of family misfortunes. The evidence of all the early writings of Shakspere goes far to prove that he had looked upon existence with an eye of untroubled cheerfulness. Never did any young poet possess his soul more undisturbed with fears of

"Poverty's unconquerable bar."

The narrative which we subjoin professes to be a relation by the poet himself to the Earl of Southampton. We give it from a translation which appeared some years ago in 'The Academic Chronicle, a literary journal of considerable merit, but of short vitality:—

"It was in a season of religious and political commotion,' resumed the poet, that I myself was born. It happened, too, that at that very period there came to Warwickshire and the neighbouring counties a man of superior ability and learning, who in the course of his travels had gained over numerous converts to the Catholic Church,-William Allen, who was afterwards made a cardinal. Among other places he visited Stratford, and excited much disquiet both in that little town and in our family. He entirely worked himself into the affections of my uncle, my father's brother; and even my father himself was for some time wavering in doubt, and greatly troubled in mind. The latter, who was of a gloomy disposition, was always melancholy, and this agitation of religious opinions led him into many disputes both with his own relations and with his neighbours. Besides this, it was a matter of peril to hold any intercourse with foreigu priests, while, at the same time, those who were either evil-disposed, or were zealous Protestants, caught at every suspicious report. My earliest impressions were of a gloomy cast; my mother alone, who made Inuch of me, was of a cheerful temper. She was of a clever turn, and her memory was stored with many a tale of marvel and mystery which she was wont to relate to me. On the intelligence of the dreadful tragedy of St. Bartholomew's eve reaching England, many proselytes—at least those who had begun to lean towards the ancient faith-again changed their sentiments.

My father, however, still continued dissatisfied with me, for my progress at school was exceedingly slow. Never shall I forget that free-school in the Guildhall, where I used to sit at the old worm-eaten oaken desk, poring over my task, till what sense and comprehension I had seemed ready to leave me, and I often feared that I should become quite stupid. Would not one be tempted to think such schools had been purposely contrived to terrify children altogether from study and learning, lest too much thinking should disturb society? This eternal going over the same thing, this useless repetition of what has already been learned, calculated only for such as are slow of comprehension, while no regard is had to him who is more apt in his studies, often drove me to distraction. Even this very repetition of what was already familiar to me prevented me from retaining it in my memory, and my disgust at this mode of teaching increased to such a degree, that I felt a horror of mind whenever I thought of this school and my instructors there.

My poor father, whose business was altered materially for the worse, wished to have as soon as possible some assistance in the management of it and in keeping his accounts; nor was I by any means sorry that he took me away earlier than usual from school, and gave me a private teacher at home, while I was employed by him in his own affairs. It was natural that I should form acquaintances with lads of my own age, who would frequently take me along with them in