Later in the day he spoke with less difficulty- fear, a hopeless affair. A lesson by which some he said something to every one near him. To his may possibly profit, is the danger of precocious niece, who was leaning over him in great anxiety, celebrity—too easily as well as too early achieved and anticipating every little want, he said—Comelet us sing praises to Christ!—then pointing to the --inducing afterwards reluctance for labor, with bed-side, he added—Sit here.—“Shall I pray for at the same time a sore, anxious fretfulness for you !" she said. -Oh, yes—he replied ; let us pray the high and commanding authority which waits for one another! In the evening, a relation of only a patient, strenuous ambition :—a pain conmy own, whom he had known many years, and tinually sharpened, it may be, by the consciouswho accompanied us from London on this visit, read ness that the superëminent prize was, nay is, withprayers from the liturgy at his bed-side—and that in reach-yet this spur rarely overmastering the liturgy, of which the poet had so often expressed his adıniration in health, was a source of comfort chill of tremor and the fatal creeping of laziness. in the hour of sickness. He expressed himself From which indulgences springs a thirst for others ** soothed-comforted;" and, after a few words ut- to cloak them-above all to cloak them from one's tered in a whisper, he fell into a quiet slumber. As self; namely—not to mention gross things—the we sat by his side-reflecting on what had passed tendency to cast about for ignobler gratification in -we thought with Rogers :

the acquisition of such a standing in the world as Through many a year

may be best promoted by worship of its secure inWe shall remember with a sad delight

fluences—that is, by the art or trade of tufthuntThe words so precious which we heard to-night! ing, at present the most flourishing of mysteries

June 14th.–At a moment when he appeared to for, if there be too much of pride or languor, or be sleeping heavily, his lips suddenly moved, and both together, for assiduity in this line, the falling in a slow, distinct whisper, he said — We shall see back on the humble but soft cushion which is al

to-morrow ?-naming in the same breath a long, ways ready for any real celebrity, however stunted departed friend. After giving him a teaspoonful in its developement—the cheap luxury of assenof some liquid at hand, he moistened his lips with tation : which last appears undoubtedly to have it-adding as usual—“Thank you-much obliged;" and these were the last connected words we heard

Both foibles however

been Campbell's Delilah. from him.-Vol. iii., pp. 372–375.

spring from one and the same root— Vanitas vani

tatum, omnia vanitas-and which is after all the Next day, June 15th, 1844, he expired. It worst growth of the two, it might not be so very was not unfortunate that he had ceased for some easy to determine. They are frequently interspace to be before the English world. All was twined; the man who fawns upon the great is apt forgotten except the upright and generous qual- to lose no opportunity of making himself amends ities of the man, and the few imperishable crea- by playing the cock-of-the-club among those who tions of a genius in its own sphere seldom sur- will let him. Campbell was singularly free from passed. It being known that he had from an early the former blot. The balance of the culpabilities time counted on "going to sleep in Westminster should be left for those who can acquit themselves Abbey,” (vol. ii., p. 176,) his remains were of having tampered with either; and they will brought over accordingly. On the 3rd of July not perhaps be the sternest of critics for the misthey were interred in the Poets' Corner, hard by takes and failings of a conscientious and benevolent those of Chaucer and Dryden, and the obsequies man, who paid a good deal for them in his lifewere discharged in a very honorable manner. On time, and never injured any one but himself. one side the bier stood the chief of his clan, the late Duke of Argyle, and on the other Sir Robert

(We shall frequently be able to fill up a vacant space by Peel, then prime minister ; the attendance in- means of extracts from Southey's Common Place Bcok, cluded a large assemblage of hereditary and ac- published in a very handsome style by Messrs. Harper. quired distinction ; and the services were read by Our readers may recognize these extracts hereafter by the a friend and brother-poet, one of the prebendaries, heads between brackets, as follows :) Mr. Milman. The inscription on the coffin was

(APOSTROPHE TO PATIENCE.] “ Thomas Campbell, LL. D., author of the Pleas- These stanzas, from an address to Patience, in ures of Hope, aged LxvII.” A monumental the St. James' Magazine, (vol. i., p. 108, signed statue (by Mr. Marshall) is now about to be C. J., deserve to be reprieved from oblivion. erected in the abbey. It has two very common 0 come, surrounded with thy sober train faults : il conveys the notion of a much taller and Of meekness, piety, and holy hope ; more athletic man, and the attitude is somewhat Blest source of peace, blest cure for every pain, theatrical ; but the poet's features are preserved

Without whose aid the proudest spirits droop. with happy fidelity.

Kindly descend to those whose humbled mind His place is safe : yet the young aspirant Knows no relief, but what from Patience springs; should not neglect the warnings which, lasting as Whose griefs no cure, whose pangs no respite find; his honors will be, his history enforces. On the On those descend with healing on thy wings. gravest of these, indeed, it would be idle to say a

O hover round the melancholy bed, word ; this tale is but one of the thousand that

Where lingering sickness claims thy fostering preach trumpet-tongued-to the deaf- the impru

care, dence of any poor man in commencing life with Thy influence rears the drooping sufferer's head, no profession but that of the pen. That is, we And gives a ray of merit to his prayer.


From the Winter's Wreath.

Styx. Indeed, it is well known to have been KESTER HOBSON. *

one of the most deep-rooted opinions of the olden time, that if any person had buried money or jew

els during his life-time, his spirit could take no In a retired part of the Yorkshire Wolds, stood, repose till the treasure was discovered. It may some years ago, the Castle of Lounsborough, an seem strange to some readers that, at this late peancient seat of the noble house of Cavendish, riod of history, there should have prevailed “such which had long been in such a state of desertion utter darkness in the land, and such gross darkand decay, that it has lately been thought expe- ness in the people ;" but the author of this liutle dient to demolish it altogether. At the commence- narrative is well assured of their reality. Haud ment of the great civil war, on Sir Charles Ho- ignota loquor. tham taking possession of Hull for the Parliament,

These oft-repeated and well-attested stories it had been, for several years, a place of refuge for made a deep impression on Kester's mind; and several wealthy royalists. For this reason, per- often, whilst sitting alone in his chimney-corner, haps, or for some others more valid, a tradition he would muse on these marvellous circumstances, had long prevailed in the neighboring villages, and reflect with bitterness on his own misfortune, that many hidden treasures had been discovered at in being doomed to live in poverty amidst these different times, about the house and grounds of countless hoards of wealth, and perhaps, day after Lounsborough Castle. The noble owners, of day, to tread it under his feet, without being able course, treated these rumors with contempt; and to reach even a single noble—but compelled to never took any steps for asserting their manorial toil throughout his whole life for a miserable pitrights, or investigating their supposed claims.

tance of a sew shillings a week. One winter's About the middle of the last century, the night, having retired to bed full of these melancharge of the ancient domain was committed to a choly thoughts, he fell into a deep sleep ; and man of the name of Christopher Hobson, who, dreamed that a sober, business-looking man, with with his wife and two daughters, constituted its a ledger under his arm, and a pen behind his ear, sole occupants. The females were employed in appeared at his bed-side, and, after giving him a keeping the house in decent order, whilst Chris- solemn and sepulchral look, such as beseemed a topher, or as he was commonly called Kester, messenger from the tomb, delivered a portentous busied himself in the gardens and grounds-so injunction to the following effect :-Christopher that in case of an unexpected visit from the noble Hobson was commanded to depart immediately for owners, which sometimes happened, the family London, and when arrived there, was ordered to were not wholly unprepared for their reception. walk backwards and forwards over London bridge

Kester Hobson was in the habit of spending for an hour, on three successive nights, immetwo or three evenings a week at a small public- diately after dark, during which he would hear of house in the adjacent village, where a few of the some very important event that materially conpeasants and small farmers of the neighborhood cerned himself and family. usually assembled. At the period we are speak- This vision was so much more vivid, consistent ing of, many of the lingering superstitions of the and striking than an ordinary dream, that it left a very dark ages still naintained their ground in various deep impression on Kester's mind, and he thought parts of the kingdom, and in none did they keep of little else the whole of the following day. But their hold with greater tenacity than in the vil- though sufficiently superstitious, yet the expense lages of the Yorkshire Wolds. At their fireside and trouble of a journey to London were at that meetings, the conversation frequently turned on ime matter of such serious import, that he could various old traditions respecting Lounsborough not bring himself to resolve on so perilous an unCastle ; and, amongst other legends equally vera- dertaking, on grounds which he could not help cious, it was affirmed that on one occasion, to-feeling to be rather equivocal. The next night, wards the close of the civil war, a band of round- however, the same visitation was repeated, and in head Guerillas, under Harrison, having suddenly terms and manner still more awful and perempsurprised the castle, where some Baltic merchants

tory. His mind now became quite bewildered, from Hull, of the king's party, had taken refuge, and he began to think seriously that an admonithe unfortunate cavaliers had been obliged to bury tion, thus solemnly repeated, could not with safetheir money, and having afterwards made a des- ty be disregarded. But on the third night the perate resistance, were all killed in defence of spectre again appeared, and delivered the same iniheir precious deposites. So strong, however, junction with such an alarming and menacing aswas the attachment of these worthy traders to their pect, that, on awaking the next morning, Chrisbeloved wealth, that, even after death, their topher hesitated no longer, but began instantly to shadowy forms had often been seen hovering make preparations for his journey. He told his round the obscure places of the castle domain, family that an affair of importance, which he could like the ghosts of unburied heroes on the banks of not then explain, required his immediate presence

in London ; and begged them to defer asking any * This legendary tale was related to the author by some questions till his return. of the older peasants of the Wolds; similar traditions

He next applied to an old friend, a neighboring have prevailed in many other places.-See "Fairy Legends," by T. C. CROKER, Esq.

farmer and a tenant of his master, for the loan of a steady old horse, which he had sometimes bor-| seemest to be a stranger in London, I should be rowed for short journeys; assuring him, with a glad to offer thee any assistance in my power.” mysterious air, that he was going on an affair of Our hearts are never more warmed than by an great importance, in which, if he succeeded, the offer of kindness in a strange place and amongst favor he was now asking should be amply com- strange people. Kester Hobson possessed, perpensated. He then took out from a small secret haps, a greater portion than usual of that mixture store, which had long been accumulating, a sum of simplicity and cunning, which has been so which he thought sufficient for the journey ; and often ascribed to his countrymen, but though althus equipped and provided, he boldly set out for ways a little on his guard, he was not quite the metropolis.

proof against this open and disinterested kindness. Though the autumn was far advanced, and the He expressed his thanks very heartily, but deroads consequently very bad, he arrived in town clared he was quite ashamed to confess his busiwithout any accident, and put up at a small inn in ness in London, and the nature of those nightthe borough, to which he had been recommended. walks which had excited the attention of the Though he had never been in London before, he honest tobacconist. By degrees, however, his resolved to lose no time, but proceeded immediately inquisitive friend got out of him, that he had, in to business. The night after his arrival, there- fact been deeply mortified and disappointed; that fore, he betook himself to the foot of London he had expected to meet with a very particular bridge ; and as soon as he heard St. Paul's clock person or occurrence on London bridge :-and, in strike seven, by which time it was quite dark, he short, that he had undertaken a long, expensive, commenced his walk, backwards and forwards, and laborious journey to London, merely at the over the bridge. He continued this exercise till instigation of a dream. He suppressed, however, he heard the same clock strike eight; when, hav- his name and residence, from a vague apprehening observed nothing more remarkable than the sion that such disclosure might by possibility excoming and going masses of a busy crowd of pas- pose him to ridicule, or to some other unpleasant sengers, he returned to his hotel. He was not consequence. much disappointed at the ill success of his first The quaker heard this strange confession with essay, as two more nights still remained. The much surprise, and then replied with great sosecond night passed exactly like the first, and he lemnity. “ It strikes me with astonishment, my began to be a little disheartened. He commenced, good friend, that a man of thy decent and sober however, the labors of the third night with reno- appearance should have come a journey of two or vated hope ;-but when he heard the deep-mouthed three hundred miles on such an errand as this! I bell again toll eight o'clock, his spirits sunk with thought such vain imaginations and weak superin him. With a heavy heart he prepared to quit stitions had long since been eschewed by all men the bridge, inwardly cursing his own credulity, of sense, and abandoned to children and old woand the devices of Satan, who, he doubted not, men. It is deplorable to think that thy parents had lured him on to this ill-fated expedition. and instructors did not take care to root out all

It may be necessary to remind some of our such idle fancies in early life, and then wisdom readers, that at the period we are speaking of, might peradventure have come with years and the entire length of London bridge was flanked by experience. However,” continued he, “ it does two rows of houses and shops, and a great retail not become me to erect mine horn aloft, and look business was carried on in this singular situation. down upon the weak and ignoranı, because my own On one of these shops, decorated by the sign of a lot has fallen in better places. If I have been hithnegro boy with a pipe in his mouth, Kester Hob- erto enabled to turn aside from all such vain deson happened to cast his eye as he was about to vices, is it not because having been brought up, as quit the bridge—and it reminded him that his it were, at the feet of Gamaliel, I have learnt tobacco-box was empty ; for the necessities of es- from the lessons of a wise father the ways of tablished habit will duly recur, even amidst our truth and soberness ? And yet," added he, smilsorrows and disappointments. He entered the ing at Christopher, “I can assure thee, friend, shop, therefore, with a view of purchasing a that if I have constantly kept clear of all such desmall supply ; and found behind the counter, an lusions, it has not been for lack of temptation. I elderly, sedate looking quaker, whose contented have, all my life long, been a great dreamer ; and well-fed person indicated the prosperity of his and often my midnight visions have been so excalling. Whilst weighing the tobacco, he sur- press and surprising, that it has required the veyed our Yorkshire man with some earnestness, strong arm of truth and reason to resist their and then, in a lone which expressed a sort of good- allurements. Even this very last night, I was natured curiosity, accosted him as follows—“I beset with this temptation. I dreamed that an have observed, friend, with some surprise, that for elderly man, in a snuff-brown coat, with a pen several nights thou hast employed thyself for a stuck behind his ear, came to my bed-side, and considerable time in walking to and fro across this told me, that if I went into a back garden, belongbridge, and thy anxious looks seemed to expect ing to an ancient castle in Yorkshire, and dug the something very particular; I am afraid thou hast ground under the stone seat of an old gothic sumbeen waiting for some person who has disas point- mer-house, I should find a great treasure. Now,” ed thee and failed in his engagement. If any ad- continued he, with a look of conscious superiority, vice or information of mine can be of use, as thoul“ if I had been as foolish as thou, I might have


neglected my business, and set off on a toilsome whom the very children feel privileged to mock. journey, in search of this imaginary treasure.”' | How often do we see such a crazy unfortunate, Here Kester Hobson, who had thus far thought followed by a little tribe of urchin tyrants torthe good quaker's harangue rather prosing and te- menting and torturing it! some by the nick-name dious, began to prick up his ears, as the ancient and the cruel laugh—some by the mouth awry or poets express it ; for he was well aware, that the broad grimace—others by the sly pull at the there was exactly such an old summer-house as ragged skirt--and a few by the coward stone :this, in a retired garden, in the grounds of Louns- and the loud shout of triumph the little mob will borough castle. His countenance betrayed a give, when they succeed in making the poor creavisible agitation ; but fortunately he stood in a ture turn and stand at bay, or run after them in dark part of the shop, where the light did not fall fierce, but, happily for them, in impotent anger. upon his face.

He could hardly forbear shouting Such a sight is not uncommon, and, to a man of with exultation ; but, by a violent effort, he sup- thought and feeling, is very humiliating and afpressed his emotion, and replied as indifferently as fecting. he could, that it was true he had indeed been

the little dogs and all, guilty of a great weakness, but he hoped he Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at should be wiser for the future.

It is useless to say that Kester treasured up this cries Lear in his mad misery. “Is there any momentos information carefully in his mind, cause in nature that makes these hard hearts ?” and soon after took leave of his valuable friend. Ah me! I fear there is. Kit Wallace, I call thee “ We shall soon see,” thought he exultingly, up from thy grave. Let me paint thy portrait, " which of us two is the wiser man in his gener- record thy wrongs, and relate thy death.

It may ation.” The next day he took his departure for be some poor, feeble-minded being shall be treated Yorkshire, and in about a week reached his home the better for this sketch of thy inoffensive life :in safety. On the very night of his arrival, he some stick shall be raised in defence of a mobbed dismissed his family to bed in good time, telling miserable—some word of kindness be spoken into them that he had some accounts to settle, which an ear accustomed only to reviling and reproach. required him to be alone. When the household I remember, in the ardent and joyous days of was all sunk in repose, he took a spade and a my early military life— when my laughter was lantern, and repaired in silence to the old summer- " like the crackling of thorns under a pot”—a house. He removed the stone-seat, took up the poor, half-witted man, who had enlisted into the pavement, and after digging about three feet deep, regiment ; I know not when or how. he felt the spade strike against some hard substance. He was certainly, poor fellow, to use the favorHis nerves were all agitation—but he went on, and ite phrase of the drill-sergeant, one of his majesty's soon drew out a large earthen jar, of the capacity hard bargains. He was not crazy-he was not of about half a bushel, fastened with a wooden an idiot – so that there was no way of getting him cover. He eagerly broke it open, and found it quite discharged-for, at that period, inspecting generals filled with the gold coins of the reigns of Eliza- were very strict about discharges; but he was a beth, James the First, and Charles the First. He simpleton of the silliest. The intelligence of a instantly conveyed it home, and got it safely locked child was greater. It was well for him, perhaps, up in his desk without the least appearance of in- that he had been driven to enlist by ill treatment terruption.

at home, or inveigled by some adroit recruiting Kester Hobson's wife was, like himself, famous sergeant, who wanted to pocket the bringing for prudence and reserve ;-and to her, therefore, money ;—for in a regiment he was sure to be but not to his daughters, he determined to reveal the clothed, fed, taken care of, and governed. Poor secret. They used their treasure cautiously and Kit, to make a soldier of him was impossible. discreetly, so as to avoid particular remark or con- However, he had eyes, arms and legs ; and as he jecture ; and he often laughs in his sleeve at the would not use these last to desert, to get rid of good quaker's sage discourse, and airs of lofty him was impracticable. He had a slouch, and superiority. He thought himself dispensed from he was a sloven. He never stood in the proper making any disclosure to his noble master ; for, position of a soldier, nor did he ever put on his though a man of fair character, and reasonably clothes and appointments like one. Officers and honest when temptation did not press him too hard, drill-sergeants gave him up in despair. He sunk yet, on the present occasion, he thought all he had into a sort of privileged character; one who was got was the fair reward of his own acuteness and

Urapt to learn, and formed of stubborn stuff. perseverance.

Kit was in the company of which I was the

lieutenant ; for awhile my pupil, but soon, and KIT WALLACE.-A RECOLLECTION. for years, my torment and my plague ; and often

times—I write it with a blush-oftentimes my PENINSULA."

jest. Upon inspection and review-days, I hid him “No, sir." quoth he,

as well as I could ; put him on a rear-guard, or " Call me not fool."- Śhakspeare.

in an awkward squad of lately joined recruits ; There is scarcely a village anywhere in the employed him for the day as a cook, or on fatigue wide world, but has in it some half-witted being, duty, or as a line or barrack orderly; some out

J. M.

From the Winter's Wreath.








of-the-way post or corner was found, in which to 1 At the conclusion of the war, and upon the return conceal Kit; but if, owing to untoward circum- of the regiment home, the battalion was reörganstances, such an arrangement could not be effected, ized; Kit was no longer in the same company with I would get him well cleaned, and his appointments me, and, except being occasionally thrown on duty well put on, by one of the smartest of my corpo- near him, I almost lost sight of the man. At rals; and then place him in the rear rank, and a length, after a lapse of years, he fell again under clever sergeant behind, with his eye constantly on my notice in India. I observed about him a very him, to prevent him from discrediting the company remarkable change-an evident improvement. He by his blunders.

was far cleverer than he was ever wont to be ; his It may be supposed that such a subject soon awkward gait remained, but his look was no longer became the butt of his comrades ; they never the same. His eye, once so restless, that used to wanted a joke, when he was by ;-they tormented be looking on every side, as if constantly expecting him incessantly. They played him tricks, at either reproof or ridicule, was now still and placid ; which sometimes he himself gave the laugh of and a beam of contentment shone in it. He always silliness ; while at others, he would blubber like saluted me with a look of kind and familiar recoga baby. On these last occasions, I would rebuke nition; and if I occasionally stopped and said a word him and punish the men ;—but I often, too often, to him, replied as if pleased at the notice. shared in the laughter. Poor Kit! he went with I was much puzzled and perplexed at first about us to the Peninsula : I remember him well in our this change in a man, whose imbecility of mind I marches there. My old captain, who was one of had once regarded as alike painful and hopeless. the best-tempered men I ever met with, would Upon making a more particular inquiry, I found sometimes be provoked into a violent passion with that, in the company to which he belonged, he had him; and while he punished half the company for become attached to the liule child of one of his teazing him, would threaten, in a voice of thunder, comrades, of whom he took as much care as if it “ to ride down Kit's throat !" the only threat that had been his own; that he spent all his spare pay ever effectually silenced him when he was in the upon it; that he did his duty quietly, was regular, mood to blubber and bellow; and the only pun- and neither troubled his fellow-soldiers, nor was ishment, if a threat be a punishment, he ever troubled by them; and that he never associated received.

with the men, but was always with this little ld, The silliness of the poor fellow was incredible. I who was exceedingly fond of him. remember on one occasion, when the regiment was Here was the secret. I more particularly obdrawn up, expecting to be immediately engaged, served him ever after :-I often met him with the and I was in charge of the company; as a simple child in his hand; a little common-looking child act of duty, I placed him in the front rank, lest, just old enough to trot by his side, and stammer out by his extreme awkwardness, he might do some its liking—with eyes thai to him had beauty, for injury, in firing, to the man who would otherwise they looked up to him with affection. Here was have stood in front of him. It is a ludicrous fact, the secret ; he had never hitherto found in the cold that the poor fellow complained to the colonel, as world anything to love him, anything he could love; he was riding down the line, that I had placed him here was a heaven-sent object exactly suited to his in the front rank to get him killed. “ Is he not in heart's want ; a little stranger in this earth, too the front rank himself, you fool!" was the colonel's young to know, and to take part with, those who reply. This shows, first, alas! that poor Kit re- despised him. A little thing, which perhaps had garded all the world, and me amongst them, as first attracted his notice when, in the chance abhis enemies-next, that he had not much of the sence of its parents, it stood terrified and helpless, hero in his composition. This little incident was crying in a tumultuous barrack-room. Poor Kit, never forgotten by the men of the company; and who had been buffeted with roughness from bis they plagued him about it to the end of the war; very cradle, had been frightened or laughed out of but many a voice that gibed and jeered him was, his wits, and then scorned for having none ; had in succession, silenced in death. He was one of been the sport of the lane or alley in which he was the few survivors in the company, at the termina- born, and then been driven from the haunts of horne tion of those memorable campaigns. He was — first to be the butt of his fellow-workmen, and present in every battle, and on every march. The next of those amongst whom he had cast in his lot handsome, and the happy, and the hardy fell around “ to mend his fate or be rid on 't”—had now found him ; Kit lived on. At the close of the bloody something to love him. battle of Albuera, when I saw hinn safe upon that Oftentimes now, as I met him and the child tofield of carnage, I was glad in my very heart; and gether, and mused upon this sweet mystery of felt that “I could have better spared a better man.” mercy, did I repent in my heart for the many sharp I have said truly that Kit was no hero, as his com- words I had once given him; and for my many plaint to the colonel on a former occasion had thoughtless and unfeeling smiles at his folly. I proved; yet he had apparently no fear of death. saw, however, by the very expression of his comHe stood in his place—had a pouch full of ball placent eye, that I was fully forgiven. He had no cartridges, and fired them away in the battle ; hate, no malice, no memory for wrong ; he was whether guilty or innocent of blood, he could not peaceful and gentle ; and passed whole days, playon that occasion know, and little heeded.

ing with a child. Kit loo was now elevated to the

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