ful to behold. The skreen was garnished with corslets and helmets, gaping with open mouths, with coats of mail, launces, pikes, halberts, brown bills, bucklers."

The following admirable description of an old English hall, which still remains as it existed in the days of Elizabeth, is taken from the notes to Mr. Scott's poem of Rokeby, and was communicated to the bard by a friend; the story which it introduces, I have also added, as it likewise occurred in the same reign, and affords a curious though not a pleasing trait of the manners of the times; as, while it gives a dreadful instance of ferocity, it shows with what ease justice, even in the case of the most enormous crimes, might be set aside.

below the cornice hangs a row of leath

"The halls of the justice of peace,' observes honest Aubrey," were dread-ern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak-table, reaching nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have feasted the whole neighbourhood, and an appendage to one end of it made it answer at other times for the old game of shuffleboard. The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style, particularly an armchair of cumbrous workmanship, constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high back and triangular seat, said to have been used by Judge Popham in the reign of Elizabeth. The entrance into the hall is at one end by a low door, communicating with a passage that leads from the outer door, in the front of the house, to a quadrangle within; at the other it opens upon a gloomy stair-case, by which you asLittlecote-House stands in a low and cend to the first floor, and, passing lonely situation. On three sides it is the doors to some bed-chambers, enter surrounded by a park that spreads over a narrow gallery, which extends along the adjoining hill; on the fourth, by the back front of the house from one meadows which are watered by the ri- end to the other of it, and looks upon ver Kennet. Close on one side of the an old garden. This gallery is hung house is a thick grove of lofty trees, with portraits, chiefly in the Spanish along the verge of which runs one of dresses of the sixteenth century. In the principal avenues to it through the one of the bed-chambers, which you park. It is an irregular building of pass in going towards the gallery, is a gre at antiquity, and was probably erect-bedstead with blue furniture, which ed about the time of the termination of time has now made dingy and threadfeudal warfare, when defence came no bare, and in the bottom of one of the longer to be an object in a country-bed-curtains you are shewn a place mansion. Many circumstances in the interior of the house, however, seem appropriate to feudal times. The hall is very spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by large transom windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls are hung with old military accou-wife sat musing by her cottage firetrements, that have long been left a prey to rust. At one end of the hall is a

range

of coats of mail and helmets, and there is on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and guns, many of them with matchlocks. Immediately

where a small piece has been cut out and sown in again; a circumstance which serves to identify the scene of the following story:

"It was a dark rainy night in the month of November, that an old mid

side, when on a sudden she was startled by a loud knocking at the door. On opening it she found a horseman, who told her that her assistance was required immediately by a person of rank, and that she should be hand-

somely rewarded, but that there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, and, therefore, she must submit to be blind-folded, and to be conducted in that condition to the bedchamber of the lady. After proceeding in silence for many miles through rough and dirty lanes, they stopped, and the midwife was led into a house, which, from the length of her walk through the apartment, as well as the sounds about her, she discovered to be the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was removed from her eyes, she found herself in a bed-chamber, in which were the lady on whose account she had been sent for, and a man of a haughty and ferocious aspect. The lady was delivered of a fine boy. Immediately the man commanded the midwife to give him the child, and, catching it from her, he hurried across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire, that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, was strong, and by its struggles rolled itself off upon the hearth, when the ruffian again seized it with fury, and, in spite of the intercession of the midwife, and the more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under the grate, and raking the live coals upon it, soon put an end to its life. The midwife, after spending some time in affording all the relief in her power to the wretched mother, was told that she must be gone. Her former conductor appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed her behind him to her own home; he then paid her handsomely, and departed. The midwife was strongly agitated by the horrors of the preceding night; and she immediately made a deposition of the fact before a magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of detecting the house in which the crime had been committed; one was, that the midwife, as she sat by the bed-side, had, with a view to

discover the place, cut out a piece of the bed-curtain, and sown it in again; the other was, that as she had decended the staircase, she had counted the steps. Some suspicions fell upon one Darrell, at that time the proprietor of Littlecote-House and the domain around it. The house was examined, and identified by the midwife, and Darrell, was tried at Salisbury for the murder. By corrupting his judge, he escaped the sentence of the law; but broke his neck by a fall from his horse in hunting, in a few months after.The place where this happened is still known by the name of Darrell's Hill : a spot to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of evening have overtaken on his way.

The usual fare of country-gentlemen, relates Harrison, was "foure, five, or six dishes, when they have but small resort ;" and accordingly, we find that Justice Shallow, when he invites Falstaff to dinner, issues the following orders: "Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook." But on feast-days, and particularly on the festivals above-mentioned, the profusion and cost of the table were astonishing. Harrison observes that the country-gentlemen and merchants contemned butcher's meat on such occasions, and vied with the nobility in the production of rare and delicate viands, of which he gives a long list; and Massinger says, "Men may talk of country-christmasses— Their thirty-pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carp's tongues,

Their pheasant's drench'd with ambergris,

the carcases

Of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to
Make sauce for a single peacock; yet their

feasts

Were fasts, compared with the city's."

It was the custom in the houses of the country-gentlemen to retire after

46

groat, be introduced, either to provoke the dance, or to rouse their wonder by his minstrelsy; his “ matter being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the reportes of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwick, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances or historical rimes, made purposely for recreation of the common people at Christmas dinners and

dinner, which generally took place about eleven in the morning, to the garden-bower or an arbour in the orchard, in order to partake of the banquet or dessert; thus Shallow, addressing Falstaff after dinner, exclaims, Nay, you shall see mine orchard: where in an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of carraways, and so forth."— From the banquet it was usual to retire to evening prayer, and thence to | brideales." Nor was the evening passupper, between five and six o'clock; sed by the parlour fire-side dissimilar for in Shakespeare's time, there were in its pleasures; the harp of history seldom more than two meals, dinner or romance was frequently made vocal and supper; "heretofore," remarks by one of the party. "We ourselves," Harrison," there hath beene much says Puttenham, who wrote in 1589, more time spent in eating and drinking | "have written for pleasure a little than commonlie is in these daies, for brief romance, or historical ditty, in whereas of old we had breakfasts in the English tong of the Isle of Great the forenoone, beverages, or nuntions | Britaine, in short and long meet res, after dinner, and thereto reare suppers generallie when it was time to go to rest. Now these od repasts, thanked be God, are verie well left, and ech one in manner (except here and there some yoong hungrie stomach that cannot fast till dinner time) contenteth himselfe with dinner and supper onelie. The nobilitie, gentlemen, and merchantmen, especiallie at great meetings, doo sit commonlie till two or three of the clocke at afternoone, so that with manie is an hard matter to rise from the table to go to evening praier, and returne from thence to come time enough to supper."

and by breaches or divisions, to be more commodiously sung to the harpe in places of assembly, where the company shall be desirous to heare of old adventures, and valiaunces of noble knights in times past, as are those of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, Sir Bevys of Southampton, Guy of Warwick, and others like."

The posset at bed-time, closed the joyous day, a custom to which Shakespeare has occasionally alluded; thus Lady Macbeth says of the "surfeited grooms, "I have drugg'd their possets;" Mrs. Quickly tells Rugby, The supper which, on days of fes-"Go; and we'll have a posset for't tivity, was often protracted to a late hour, and often too as substantial as the dinner, was succeeded, especially at Christmas, by gambols of various sorts, and sometimes the squire and his family would mingle in the amusements; or retiring to the tapestried parlour, would leave the hall to the more boisterous mirth of their household; then would the BLIND HARPER, who sold his FIT of mirth for a

soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire ;" and Page, cheering Falstaff, exclaims, "Thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house." Thomas Heywood also, a contemporary of Shakespeare, has particularly noticed this refection as occurring just before bed-time: "Thou shalt be welcome to beef and bacon, and perhaps a bag-pudding; and my daughter Nell shall pop a posset upon thee when

thou goest to bed."

girding to which they fastened their splints, and then covered the whole with thick clay to keep out the wind.

We shall now pass forward to the delineation of one of great importance in a national point of view, that of" Certes this rude kind of building,' the substantial Farmer or Yeoman, of says Harrison," made the Spaniards whom Harrison has left us the follow- in queene Maries daies to wonder, ing interesting definition :-This sort but cheeflie when they saw what large of people have a certaine preheminence diet was used in manie of these so and more estimation than labourers, and homelie cottages, in so much that one the common sort of artificers, and these of no small reputation amongst them commonlie live wealthilie, keepe good said after this manner: These Enghouses, and travell to get riches.-lish (quoth he) have their houses made They are also for the most part farmers to gentlemen, or at the leastwise artificers, and with grazing, frequenting of markets, and keeping of servants (not idle servants, as the gentlemen doo, but such as get both their owne and part of their master's living) do come to great welth, in somuch that manie of them are able and doo buie the lands of unthriftie gentlemen, and often setting their sonnes to the schooles, to the universities, and Ins of the court; or otherwise leaving them sufficient lands whereupon they may live without labour, doo make them by those meanes to become gentlemen: these were they that in times past made all France afraid. And albeit they be not called master, as gentlemen are, or sir as to knights, apperteineth, but onelie John and Thomas, &c.: yet" Where houses be reeded (as houses have have they beene found to have doone verie good service: and the kings of England in foughten battels, were woont to remaine among them (who were their footmen) as the French kings did amongst their horsemen : the prince thereby shewing where his chiefe strength did consist.'

The houses or cottages of the farmer were built in places abounding in wood, in a very strong and substantial manner, with not more than four, six, or nine inches between stud and stud; but in the open champaine country, they were compelled to use more flimsy materials, with here and there a

of sticks and durt, but they fare commonlie so well as the king. Whereby it appeareth that he liked better our good fare in such coarse cabins, than of their owne thin diet in their prince-like habitations and palaces." The cottages of the peasantry usually consisted of but two rooms on the ground-floor, the outer for the servants, the inner for the master and his family, and they were thatched with straw or sedge; while the dwelling of the substantial farmer was distributed into several rooms above and beneath, was coated with white lime or cement, and was very neatly roofed with reed; hence Tusser, speaking of the farmhouse, gives the following directions for repairing and preserving its thatch in the month of May:

need)

Now pare of the mosse, and go beat in the

reed:

The juster ye drive it, the smoother and plaine,

More handsome ye make it, to shut off the

raine."

To this curious delineation of the accommodation of the farmer, it will be necessary, in order to complete the sketch, to add a few things relative to his diet and hospitality. Contrary to what has taken place in modern times, the hours for meals were later with the artificer and the husbandman than with the higher orders of society; the farmer and his servants usually sitting

down to dinner at one o'clock, and to supper at seven, while the nobleman and gentleman took the first at eleven in the morning, and the second at five in the afternoon.

We shall close these characters, illustrative of rural manners, as they existed in the reigns of Elizabeth and James 1st. with a delineation of the plain Country Fellow or down right Clown, from the accurate pen of Bishop Earle, who has touched this homely subject with singular point and spirits.

which he takes from his land-lord, and
refers it wholly to his discretion: yet
if he give him leave he is a good chris-
tian to his power, (that is) comes to
church in his best clothes, and sits
there with his neighbours, where he is
capable only of two prayers, for rain,
and fair weather. He apprehends
God's blessings in a good year, or a
fat pasture, and never praises him but
on good ground. Sunday, he esteems
a day to make merry in, and thinks a
bag-pipe as essential to it as an even-
ing prayer, where he walks very so-
lemnly after service with his hands
coupled behind him, and censures the
dancing of his parish. His compli-
ment with his neighbour is a good
thump on the back, and his salutation
commonly some blunt curse.
thinks nothing to be vices, but pride
and ill husbandry, from which he will
gravely dissuade the youth, and has
some thrifty hob-nail proverbs to clout
his discourse. He is a niggard all the
week, except only market-day, where,
if his corn sell well, he thinks he may
be drunk with a good conscience. He is
sensible of no calamity but the burning
of a stack of corn or the overflowing of
a meadow, and thinks Noah's flood
the greatest plague that ever was, not
because it drowned the world, but
spoiled the grass. For death he is
never troubled, and if he get in but
his harvest before, let it come when it

"A plain country fellow is one that manures his ground well, but lets himself lye fallow and untilled. He has reason enough to do his business, and not enough to be idle or melancholy. He seems to have the punishment of Nebuchadnezzar, for his conversation is among beasts, and his tallons none of the shortest, only he eats not grass, because he loves not sallets. His hand guides the plough, and the plough his thoughts, and his ditch and land-mark is the very mound of his meditations. He expostulates with his oxen very understandingly, and speaks gee, and ree, better than English. His mind is not much distracted with objects, but if a good fat cow come in his way, he stands dumb and astonished, and though his haste be never so great, will fix here half an hour's contemplation. His habitation is some poor thatched roof, distinguish-will, he cares not." ed from his barn by the loop-holes that let out smoak, which the rain had long since washed through, but for the double ceiling of bacon on the inside, which has hung there from his grandsire's time, and is yet to make rashers for posterity. His dinner is his other work, for he sweats at it as much as at his labour; he is a terrible fastner on a piece of beef, and you may hope to stave the guard off sooner. His religion is a part of his copy-hold,

REVIEW.

He

Napoleon in Exile; or, a Voice from St. Helena. The opinions and reflections of Napoleon on the most important events of his Life and Government, in his own words.By BARRY E. O'MEARA, Esq., his late Surgeon. 2 vols.- Con tinued from our last.