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decency. If there are watchwords for the rabble, have not the polite and fashionable their hackneyed phrases, their fulsome unmeaning jargon as well? Both are to me anathema!

HAZLITT.

THE JESTER CONDEMNED TO

DEATH.

One of the kings of Scanderoon,
A royal jester

Had in his train, a gross buffoon,
Who used to pester

The court with tricks inopportune, Venting on the highest folks his Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes.

It needs some sense to play the fool,
Which wholesome rule
Occurr'd not to our jackanapes,

Who consequently found his freaks Lead to innumerable scrapes,

And quite as many kicks and tweaks, Which only seem'd to make him faster Try the patience of his master.

Some sin, at last, beyond all measure
Incurr'd the desperate displeasure

Of his serene and raging highness;
Whether he twitch'd his most revered
And sacred beard,

Or had intruded on the shyness
Of the seraglio, or let fly

An epigram at royalty,
None knows;-his sin was an occult one;
But records tell us that the sultan,
Meaning to terrify the knave,

Exclaim'd-"Tis time to stop that breath; Thy doom is seal'd, presumptuous slave! Thou stand'st condemn'd to certain death. Silence, base rebel!-no replying!

But such is my indulgence still Out of my own free grace and will I leave to thee the mode of dying."

"Thy royal will be done-'tis just," Replied the wretch, and kiss'd the dust;

"Since, my last moments to assuage, Your majesty's humane decree Has deign'd to leave the choice to me, I'll die, so please you, of old age!"

HORACE SMITH.

THE SUMMER MORNING.

[John Clare, born in Helpstone, near Peterborough, Northamptonshire, 13th July, 1793; died 20th May, 1864. He was the son of a farm-labourer, and when a mere child was sent to work in the fields. Despite many privations he managed to educate himself, and in 1819 he was fortunate enough to secure a publisher for his first work, Poems of Rural Life. The Quarterly Review, which had used Keats so harshly only a little time before, spoke of Clare in the highest terms of praise. The rustic poet was invited to London: for a season he was the lion of the town, and a subscription was raised which provided him with an income of about £45 a year. About fifteen years afterwards he became insane; for some time his wife nobly struggled to man age him at home; but at last he had to be conveyed to the Northampton County Asylum, where the remainder of his life was passed. Previous to that calamity he had added to his first book, The Village Minstrel, The She, herd's Calendar, 1827; and the Rural Muse, 1835 His widow died in the spring of 1871.]

The cocks have now the morn foretold,
The sun again begins to peep,
The shepherd whistling to his fold,
Unpens and frees the captive sheep.
O'er pathless plains at early hours

The sleepy rustic gloomy goes;
The dews, brush'd off from grass and flowers.
Bemoistening, sop his hardened shoes.

While every leaf that forms a shade,

And every floweret's silken top, And every shivering bent and blade, Stoops, bowing with a diamond top. But soon shall fly their diamond drops, The red round sun advances higher, And stretching o'er the mountain tops Is gilding sweet the village spire.

"Tis sweet to meet the morning breeze,
Or list the gurgling of the brook;
Or, stretched beneath the shade of trees,
Peruse and pause on nature's book,
When nature every sweet prepares

To entertain our wish'd delay,-
The images which morning wears,
The wakening charms of early day.

Now let me tread the meadow paths

While glittering dew the ground illumes, As sprinkled o'er the withering swaths, Their moisture shrinks in sweet perfumes; And hear the beetle sound his horn, And hear the skylark whistling nigh, Sprung from his bed of tufted corn, A hailing minstrel of the sky.

THE HORN-BOOK.

Learned gentlemen, who drive the trade of authorship, will undoubtedly be surprised to see a common weaver busy himself in their matters. But without paying any attention to them I shall begin, gaily and cheerfully, the history of my life. One of the first things I remember is, that I was seized, when about seven years old, with a sore disease, which I afterwards learned was the small-pox. It marked my visage very deeply, and left behind the seeds of a disorder which cost me and other people much trouble to cure. My head was rendered so weak that I fell asleep when anybody attempted to talk to me of books and learning. Reading was a sore trouble to me; and without carrying my modesty too far, I may say, that at my twelfth year I still found it necessary to spell a few words. I will not raise suspicions of my fitness for authorship by referring to the period when my letters first became legible. For the rest, however, I am healthy as a roach, and enjoy a happiness that does not need to be increased, but only continued. People even assure me that the marks of the small-pox do not distort my features, but only serve to give me a sounder appearance at some little distance. I regard this, however, as good-natured flattery, and am convinced that a smooth red face would add to my beauty. On the last page of my horn-book stood a red cock, which I could not look at without reverencing, notwithstanding, as a work of art, it was one of the rudest productions of wood-engraving. If I brought from school a testimony of good behaviour during the day, I was sure to find, on the following morning, a small piece of money on the cock, which my mother told me was a gift from him to reward my good conduct and encourage me to persevere. Such friendly means could not fail. I opposed with all my might when any of my mischievous school fellows sought to entice me away; and continued to spell with such perseverance, that the veins of my head sometimes swelled. I became by this means the favourite of my teacher, Mr. Ezekiel Quartz. Some quarrelsome envious fellows named me the Walking Horn-book; but I did not mind this, for I enjoyed, among the orderly and well-behaved, the reputation of being the best boy in the village. With the presents I obtained so honourably from the red cock, I always ran straight to the nearest shop and bought a new, and sometimes warm, cake of

VOL. I.

gingerbread, which I usually shared with Lina, who generally took care to wait for me at the garden gate when she saw me returning. She was the only child of our neighbour, a poor widow, who earned her daily bread by running on errands, and was never off her feet from morning till night. While she was tramping from village to village, Lina sat at the spinningwheel, and laboured as constantly as I did at my book, though without being so well rewarded. She was at that time, as she still is, the ornament of the village. Her good nature, and the dimple on her chin, pleased everybody. On my return from the pastry-cook's, such a friendly smile spread over her whole face that I was sometimes obliged forcibly to turn away my eyes, in order not to give the cake unbroken into her hands. "Godfred," said she, as we sat near one another devouring our gingerbread, "when we are bigger we will be married, and then we will live as if we were in heavennothing but gingerbread and seed-cake!" This pleased me, and I resolved to keep friends with the red cock; and thought to myself that with time would come the means of fulfilling our wishes.

In my thirteenth year I was taken from school and placed apprentice to a weaver, who was a relation and friend, and who promised to remember my weak state of health in appointing me my task. As I was to leave my mother's house I thought of nothing so much as how to give Lina something in place of the gingerbread she would no longer receive. A red cock, like the one in my horn-book, might be as good a friend to her as to me. I copied the picture, therefore, carefully on another piece of paper, by holding it up to the window, and afterwards coloured it red. When the work was ended I could scarcely wonder enough at the resemblance. Towards evening I went to the garden gate and threw a handful of sand against Lina's window to inform her of my presence. I already enjoyed, in imagination, her astonishment at my dexterity, and her joy at my kindness. When she appeared, as I told her of my intended departure, and that I had brought her a present of not a little value, she looked eagerly towards it; but when she saw the picture I was mortally disappointed: instead of the praise I expected she shook her head and turned up her nose, almost as if she despised me and my work. She scarcely looked at it; and wrapping it up again in paper, expressed plainly enough that she would rather have had a substantial cake of gingerbread than all the painted cocks in the world. I was vexed at this contempt for my labours;

15

measured the ungrateful one from head to foot, hanging down to my ankles, and lined with

and in a moment resolved I would tear myself,
from her and never again have anything to do
with her. "Your servant, Miss Lina," said
I aloud, and proudly turning on my heel,
stalked lordly and hastily home, without pay-
ing any attention to her calling after me.

bright red; my waistcoat was of plush, and on it might be seen, very naturally drawn, the whole planets running their course. My boots were of the best calf's skin, with yellow tops. By my especial desire my mother had bound three handkerchiefs round my neck, so that the outward one reached my under lip. A long tail, tied with new shining ribbon, hung down my back, and the fore-part of my head was covered with curls, which, after being pressed down by the hat, rose again into pretty ringlets when it was removed. In truth, for eight days before, my hair was pressed up in papers, and not taken down till the important moment in which I was to show myself. In my left hand I held a large bunch of flowers, in my

My cousin's house, where I was now to dwell, was at the opposite end of the village, which would not, however, have hindered me from keeping company with Lina, if I had not resolved to have nothing more to do with the earthly-minded thing, who had rather tickle her palate than her eyes, and had no taste for the fine and noble arts. She, however, sought, by all her little means, to get hold of me when I went to drink coffee with my mother on Sundays and feast-days. But I persisted in avoid-right a silver-headed cane inherited from my ing her, and in cherishing the ill-temper she had awakened by the unkind reception of the picture. The most which I did was to show myself at the window and pretend not to observe her. At length, when she found she was only thrashing empty straw, she left off looking after me. Only wait, thought I; you shall yet repent of the scornful manner you treated me; only let me become a journeyman

weaver.

The years of apprenticeship passed away, and the day at last arrived on which I was to be set free, and admitted into the journeyman's guild-allowed to smoke tobacco in every company, and to walk with my cane wherever I pleased. As I sat at breakfast with my mother, and talked over the necessary arrangements for the coming festivities, the father-journeyman entered, took his place at my side in a friendly way, and helped me to despatch the coffee. Formerly he hardly deigned to look at me, now he began to talk freely and jovially, which pleased and exalted me prodigiously. I was quite in raptures, however, as my mother brought forth some spirits, and he, clapping me on the shoulder, said, "What think you, brother Fred, shall we drink to our lasting friendship?" The words ran through me like fire. My mother seemed to utter a prayer for the continuance of our fellowship as we stood up, and entwining each an arm with the other, in this manner carried the glasses to our mouths and emptied them.

Now was I able to snap my fingers at the whole world, and only found it necessary to muster up all my self-command that my sense of acknowledged worth might not be blown up into folly. The reader will undoubtedly like to know how I was clothed on this, for me, important day. My coat was of dark blue,

1

grandfather, and from both my pockets hung the corners of two fine flower-worked pockethandkerchiefs. In this stately dress I began, about mid-day, to make the course of the village, and to invite, according to custom, the maidens to the dance which I was to give that evening at the sign of the Crow. I passed by Lina's door, however, several times without allowing my inclinations to conquer the resolution I had laid down; and if Lina was not entirely blind she must have known by my conduct that I had drank to our lasting friendship with the father of the journeymen, and had banished all recollection of our gingerbread-eating years from my heart. In the evening, however, as all the beauties of the place swam past me in the waltzing circle, the true queen of the feast, precisely the contemned Lina, appeared to be wanting, as the only person worthy to stand at my side. In vain did I frisk and whirl with the stiff daughter of the cartwright in order to banish the unpleasant thoughts; the image of Lina preserved its place and darkened every other joy. Streams of perspiration and powder, from exercise and anxiety, flowed down my face and spoiled my neck-handkerchiefs. Sighing and panting, my partner sank on the nearest stool and gasped for breath. I could hold out no longer in the dust and vapour, but drank copiously of beer, stuffed my pipe, and went to the door to cool myself. A secret impulse I could not explain led me farther and farther, and blowing away the smoke as I thumped along, I found myself, before I knew where I was, under Lina's window. She sat solitary and quiet in the little room, dimly lighted by a lamp, and turned her wheel, drawing out her threads fine and firm, for she span as well as any girl of the village. The music and the shouts of the

THE HORN-BOOK.

joyous dancers were plainly heard, but she sat
and worked, busied alone with her own thoughts.
Sorrowful and melancholy reflections appeared
in her countenance, but she paid no attention
to the distant music, and there was nothing
about her which could lead me to suppose she
was vexed at being excluded from the dance.
She had already put on her night-cap, and I
was obliged to confess to myself that she was
very pretty, and that not one of the gaily
dressed ladies at the dance could compare with
her. I possessed, however, firmness enough
not to betray my presence, or to give in any
way expression to my feelings; yet I was much
disposed to do it, and resolved, on my way
back to the dance, to receive her again into
favour. Nor was this resolution altered by the
jokes of my companions at my melancholy
appearance, but remained even till daylight,
when, with a cloudy head, I returned home to
give myself up, after so much exertion of body
and mind, to the sweet empire of sleep.

It was noon, and the dinner ready, before
I returned to my senses on the following day,
rejoiced to find that the honours and praises
I had harvested the night before were no idle
dreams. My mother had prepared me one of
my favourite dishes, and, after making up the
loss of my morning's drink by a hearty meal,
I turned my thoughts to the immediate execu-
tion of my last night's plan. My pipe was
lighted, and I took myself into the garden, in
hopes that Lina, informed of my presence,
would find something to do there, and give me
an opportunity of speaking to her. And, in
truth, the only son of my mother found him-
self not deceived. Lina was in the garden,
and I had nothing further to do to begin the
conversation than to bid her good-day, which
I did, and she answered in as friendly a way
as if she had been invited to the dance and
the merriest person there. This vexed me,
but I endeavoured, like a man, to keep down
the unpleasant feeling, and, approaching the
garden railing as near as possible, said, in con-
fidential kind tone, "I wish, dear Lina, you
had been with us yesterday evening; we shouted
and huzzaed like victorious heroes, and danced
and sprung like young does, and were all as
happy as kings." "I do not know," said she,
with a sort of contemptuous smile, "what
business I had there, and I trouble myself as
"You
little about it to-day as yesterday.'
may say what you please," said I, "but you
cannot deny that the manner in which I have
hitherto treated you has not been indifferent
to you. You would have gladly been at the
dance yesterday. Come, everything shall be

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Is it worth forgotten and forgiven. Here is my handwe will be again good friends.” the trouble," said she, with a sneering loud laugh. "No, Mr. Godfred, people must not be so hasty in the choice of their friends; and nobody cares about puffed-up fools-they are passed without any notice." So saying, she seized her watering-pot, and before I could muster up my senses to answer such an unexpected impertinence, she had disappeared. "Zounds!" said I, calling after her, "that was clearly, very clearly said." I stood a quarter of an hour as if somebody had beat me, stuck my fists in my side, and gnashed my teeth, as I endeavoured to find out some way of revenging my wounded honour. She had called me a fool; not directly, indeed, but in such a manner as to mean no other person but me; and to affront me ten times more than if she had called me so downright. The more I thought on the matter the more I became doubtful and desponding. Shall I revenge myself immediately and give grist to all the scandal-mills of the place? or shall I bear in patience an insult that the burgomaster himself would condemn me for submitting to? The father-journeyman occurred to me. "He," "may give me the best adsaid I to myself, vice how to behave myself, for he has already had, by virtue of his office, many such cases to decide. I must explain the unpleasant matter to him, and be guided by his opinion." It was Saturday, and the whole weavers' guild had a sort of a blue day in consequence of the festivities of yesterday, and I knew that I should not fail to find my friend at the Crow, where he spent every hour he was not at the loom. He seemed ill-tempered, for he sat still and gloomy in a corner of the tap-room, and it was not till he had heard me command the landlord to bring me a tankard of the right stuff that his contracted eyebrows expanded to their usual cheerfulness. I begged to be allowed to take my place near him, offered him a glass, and told him, in a few words, of what 66 'Brother," said had just happened to me. he, after he had let me tell my tale fully, "from all you have said to me, it is clear enough that, in spite of what the maiden said, and you have done, she is yet deeply and desperately in love with you." As he said this he fixed his eyes on the glasses, which were drained dry; and I, understanding him, gave a sign to the landlord, and they were again "the "Brother," continued he, soon filled. maiden felt herself insulted by your neglect; and, indeed, you went too far to slight her before the whole village. However, she is

chiefly offended because she yet likes you; you | are, as it were, stuck on to her heart. This, therefore, is my advice. You must bear the shame she has put on you with patience, instead of making it the talk of everybody. You must take the title as a piece of maiden's wit, such as is to be had every day, and pay her for it with a dozen good kisses on the scandalous mouth on the first opportunity, and afterwards act as it suits your heart and understanding. I will give you a certificate that the fool shall remain betwixt us-it shall descend with us into the grave." The advice did not appear so bad, after some reflection, as at first. I thanked the brotherly friend with my right hand, made him again promise me secrecy, and assured him I would direct my future conduct to Lina according to what he said.

Unhappily, however, my promise was easier given than kept; and the four weeks which intervened between my liberation and begin ning my travels passed away without my being able rightly to understand on what terms I stood with Lina. If she saw me before the door or in the garden she behaved herself well and politely, but showed no sign of uncontrollable love. This made me melancholy and low-spirited, particularly as I observed that, unable to make proper resistance, I was daily more in love with Lina. Good counsel would now have been valuable to me, and all the wisdom of the father-journeyman was of no avail. The evil was always increasing. Eating and drinking no longer pleased me. My pipe remained untouched the whole day; and my mother, who saw in my conduct my sorrow at parting from home, shook her head with melancholy foreboding. Lina was our nearest neighbour, and it was impossible she should not know of my intention to wander through the wide world; yet she did not lose the smallest part of her usual cheerfulness. On the contrary, I remarked, when she was in her garden bleaching her yarn, she trulled and hummed such gay airs, that every note was like a dagger to my heart. Her mirth made me shy and reserved, and wrecked every attempt I made to speak, and perhaps be reconciled with her. I cursed my former stupid conduct; whenever I saw her I trembled, and had not the courage to approach and declare to her my secret thoughts.

On the day before my expected departure, my mother had collected some friends to keep her and me cheerful. In the evening I left the table, went and rapped at Lina's door, determined to have an explanation, and be certain what I had to hope or to fear for the

future. My trouble was vain; I could make nobody hear, the house appeared deserted; my thumps were echoed as from a vault, and all the inhabitants of the spot, where I had hoped to find comfort, appeared dead and gone. No light was in her chamber, everything remained in quiet darkness, and the door was firm against all my attempts to enter. Afterwards I heard that Lina had been called away before noon to her mother, who had been taken suddenly ill in one of the neighbouring villages, and that she was not likely to return for some days. Every spark of hope was now extinguished. It was decided that I was quite indifferent to her, and I ought not to think of regaining the favour I had so foolishly lost.

If the father-journeyman could now have given his opinion, he would have advised me to resign myself to my fate, to banish the maiden from my thoughts, and throw out my hook for a new prize. He, however, had seen fifty springs, and I was in my eighteenth year. What was I to do? It was scarcely possible to postpone my departure for a few days and trust to Lina's return, even if I were disposed to bear with the taunts of my comrades as a mother's spoiled child, for I had taken a solemn farewell of all my friends and relations. Sorrowful, therefore, I packed up my knapsack, stowed away carefully the hoarded and the collected money my mother had provided me, and, after a sleepless night, started at daybreak, accompanied by some guild companions to the next village, and thus wandered in a very melancholy mood from my native place into the wide world.

More than half a year did I traverse backwards and forwards the holy Roman empire without finding it necessary to seek employment. The money my mother had given me was sufficient to keep me, and the picture of Lina which I carried in my heart prevented the time from being wearisome. At noon I readily sought the cool shade by the side of some stream, to look over the images of former times that were stored up in my memory. For whole hours I fixed my gaze on the red cock, which I had preserved as my best friend, and carefully placed in my letter-case on leaving home. The sight of my gingerbread buyer recalled, as if present, all the pleasures he, and all the sorrows his copy, had procured me. In living clearness the days stood before me in which Lina placed me at her side, called me her little Fred, and talked of our future marriage. I cursed the passionate haste with which I separated from her on the unhappy evening, the proud overlooking by which I made her

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