"I have picked up a little painted glass too, and have got a promise of some old statues, lately dug up, which formerly adorned the cathedral of Litchfield. You see I continue to labour in my vocation, of which I can give you a comical instance :--I remembered a rose in painted glass, in a little village going to Ragley, which I remarked passing by five years ago; told Mr Conway on which hand it would be, and found it in the very spot. I saw a very good and perfect tomb at Alcester, of Sir Fulke Greville's father and mother, and a wretched old house, with a very handsome gateway of stone, at Colton, belonging to Sir Robert Throckmorton. There is nothing else tolerable but twenty-two coats of the matches of the family in painted glass. You cannot imagine how astonished a Mr Seward, a learned gentleman, was, who came to Ragley while I was there. Strolling about the house, he saw me first sitting on the pavement of the lumber-room with Louis, all over cobwebs and dirt and mortar; then found me in his own room on a ladder, writing on a picture; and half an hour afterwards, lying on the grass in the court with the dogs and the children, in my slippers, and without my hat. He had had some doubt whether I was the painter or the factotum of the family; but you would have died at his surprise, when he saw me walk into dinner dressed, and sit by Lady Hertford. Lord Lyttleton was there, and the conversation turned on literature: finding me not quite ignorant added to the parson's wonder; but he could not contain himself any longer, when after dinner he saw me go to romps and jumping with the two boys; he broke out to my Lady Hertford, and begged to know who and what sort of man I really was, for he had never met with any thing of the kind. Adieu." Our readers will be pleased to hear his edition of the terrible story of Lord Ferrers. "Jan. 28, 1760.-You have heard, I suppose, a horrid story of another kind, of Lord Ferrers murdering his steward in the most barbarous and deliberate manner. He sent away all his servants but one, and, like that heroic murderess Queen Christina, carried the poor man through a gallery and several rooms, locking them after him, and then bid the man kneel down, for he was determined to kill him. The poor creature flung himself at his feet, but in vain-was shot, and lived twelve hours. Mad as this action was from the consequences, there was no frenzy in his behaviour; he got drunk, and, at intervals, talked of it coolly; but not attempt to escape, till the colliers house, and were determined to take or dead. He is now in the jail at nd will soon be removed to the > Westminster, and I suppose less, as Lord Tproof Lords, not being thought mad enough to be shut up till he had killed somebody, he will then be thought too mad to be executed;' but Lord T- was no more honoured in his voca tion than other prophets are in their own country." April 19.-Lord Ferrers' trial lasted three days. You have seen the pomp and awfulness of such doings, so I will not describe it to you. The judge and criminal were far inferior to those you have seen. For the Lord High Steward, he neither had any dignity, nor affected any; nay, he held it all so cheap, that he said at his table t'other day, I will not send for Garrick and learn to act a part.' At first I thought Lord Ferrers shocked, but in general he behaved rationally and coolly; though it was a strange contradiction to see a man trying, by his own sense, to prove himself out of his senses. It was more shocking to see his two brothers brought to prove the lunacy in their own blood, in order to save their brother's life. Both are almost as ill-looking men as the earl; one of them is a clergyman, suspended by the Bishop of London for being a methodist; the other a wild whom they call in the country, ragged and dangerous. After Lord Ferrers was condemned, he made an excuse for pleading madness, to which he said he was forced by his family. He is respited till Monday-fortnight, and will then be hanged, I believe, in the Tower; and, to the mortification of the peerage, is to be anatomized, conformably to the late act for murder. Many peers were absent; Lord Foley and Lord Jersey attended only the first day; and Lord Huntingdon, and my nephew Orford (in compliment to his mo ther), as related to the prisoner, withdrew without voting. But never was a criminal more literally tried by his peers, for the three persons who interested themselves most in the examination, were at least as mad as he-Lord Lord I Lord- and Indeed, the first was al most frantic. The seats of the peeresses were not near full, and most of the beauties absent; the Duchess of Hamilton, and my niece Waldegrave, you know, lie in; but, to the amazement of every body, Lady Coventry was there, and, what surprised me much more, looked as well as ever. sat next but one to her, and should not have asked if she had been ill-yet they are positive she has few weeks to live. She and Lord Bolingbroke seemed to have different thoughts, and were acting over all the old comedy of eyes. I sat in Lord Lincoln's gallery; you and I know the convenience of it; I thought it no great favour to ask, and he very obligingly sent me a ticket immediately, and ordered me to be placed in one of the best boxes. Lady Augusta was in the same gallery; the Duke of York and his young brothers were in the Prince of Wales's box, who was not there, no more than the Princess, Princess Emily, nor the Duke. It was an agreeable humanity in my friend the Duke of York; he would not take his seat in the House before the trial, that he might not vote in it. There are so many young peers, that the show was fine even in that respect; the Duke of Richmond was the finest figure; the Duke of Marlborough, with the best countenance in the world, looked clumsy in his robes; he had new ones, having given away his father's to the valet de chambre. There were others not at all so indifferent about the antiquity of theirs: Lord Huntingdon's, Lord Abergavenny's, and Lord Castlehaven's, scarcely hung on their backs; the two former they pretend were used at the trial of the Queen of Scots. But all these honours were a little defaced by seeing Lord Temple, as lord privy seal, walk at the head of the peerage. Who, at the last trials, would have believed a prophecy, that the three first men at the next, should be Henley the lawyer, Bishop Secker, and Dick Gren ville ?" "Arlington Street, May 6, 1760.-The extraordinary history of Lord Ferrers is closed: he was executed yesterday. Madness, that in other countries is a disorder, is here a systematic character: it does not hinder people from forming a plan of conduct, and from even dying agreeably to it. You remember how the last Ratcliffe died with the utmost propriety; so did this horrid lunatic, coolly and sensibly. His own and his wife's relations had asserted that he would tremble at last. No such thing, he shamed heroes. He bore the solemnity of a pompous and tedious procession of above two hours from the Tower to Tyburn, with as much tranquillity as if he was only going to his own burial, not to his own execution. He even talked on indifferent subjects in the passage; and if the sheriffs and the chaplains had not thought that they had parts to act too, and had not consequently engaged him in most particular conversations, he did not seem to think it necessary to talk on the occasion; he went in his wedding-clothes, marking the only remaining impression on his mind. The ceremony he was in a hurry to have over: he was stopped at the gallows by the vast crowd, but got out of his coach as soon as he could, and was but seven minutes on the scaffold, which was hung with black, and prepared by the undertaker of his family at their expense. There was a new contrivance for sinking the stage under him, which did not play well; and he suffered a little by the delay, but was dead in four minutes. The mob was decent, and admired him, and almost pitied him; so they would Lord George, whose execution they are so angry at missing. I suppose every highwayman will now preserve the blue handkerchief he has about his neck when he is married, that he may die like a lord. With all his madness, he was not mad enough to be struck with his aunt Huntingdon's sermons. The methodists have nothing to brag of his conversion, though Whitfield prayed for him, and preached about him. Even Tyburn has been above their reach." The next extract is extremely interesting, both from the contrast and resemblance. The letter from which it is taken, is dated immediately after the death of George II. "Arlington Street, Nov. 13, 1760.-For the King himself, he seems all good-nature, and wishing to satisfy every body; all his speeches are obliging. I saw him again yesterday, and was surprised to find the levee room had lost so entirely the air of the lion's den. This sovereign don't stand in one spot, with his eyes fixed royally on the ground, and dropping bits of German news; he walks about and speaks to every body. I saw him afterwards on the throne, where he is graceful and genteel, sits with dignity, and reads his answers to addresses well; it was the Cambridge address, carried by the Duke of N- in his doctor's gown, and looking like the medecin malgré He had been vehemently solicitous for attendance, for fear of my Lord Westmoreland, who vouchsafes himself to bring the address from Oxford, should outnumber him. Lord L- -d and several other jacobites have kissed hands; George Selwyn says, they go to St James's, because now there are so many Stuarts there." lui. 66 Do you know, I had the curiosity to go to the burying t'other night; had never seen a royal funeral; nay, I walked as a rag of quality, which I found would be, and so it was, the easiest way of seeing it. It is absolutely a noble sight. The prince's chamber, hung with purple, and a quantity of silver lamps, the coffin under a canopy of purple velvet, and six vast chandeliers of silver on high stands, had a very good effect. The ambassador from Tripoli and his son were carried to see that chamber. The procession, through a line of foot-guards, every seventh man bearing a torch, the horseguards lining the outside, their officers with drawn sabres and crape sashes on horseback, the drums muffled, the fifes, bells tolling, and minute guns,-all this was very solemn. But the charm was the entrance of the abbey, where we were received by the dean and chapter in rich robes, the choir and almsmen bearing torches; the whole abbey so illuminated, that one saw it to greater advantage than by day; the tombs, long aisles, and fretted roof, all appearing distinctly, and with the happiest chiaro scuro. There wanted nothing but incense, and little chaples here and there, with priests saying mass for the repose of the defunct; yet one could not complain of its not being catholic enough. I had been in dread of being coupled with some boy of ten years old; but the heralds were not very accurate, and I walked with George Grenville, taller and older, to keep me in countenance. When we came to the chapel of Henry the Seventh, all solemnity and decorum ceased; no or der was observed, people sat or stood where they could or would; the yeomen of the guard were crying out for help, oppressed by the immense weight of the coffin; the bishop read sadly, and blundered in the prayers; the fine chapter, man that is born of a woman, was chanted, not read; and the anthem, besides being immeasurably tedious, would have served as well for a nuptial. The real serious part was the figure of the Duke of Cumberland, heightened by a thousand melancholy circumstances. He had a dark brown adonis, and a cloak of black cloth, with a train of five yards. Attending the funeral of a father could not be pleasant: his leg extremely bad, yet forced to stand upon it near two hours; his face bloated and distorted with his late paralytic stroke, which has affected, too, one of his eyes, and placed over the mouth of the vault, into which, in all probabitity, he must himself so soon descend; think how unpleasant a situation! He bore it all with a firm and unaffected countenance. This grave scene was fully contrasted by the burlesque Duke of NHe fell into a fit of crying the moment he came into the chapel, and flung himself back in a stall, the archbishop hovering over him with a smelling-bottle; but in two minutes his curiosity got the better of his hypocrisy, and ran about the chapel with his glass, to spy who was or was not there, spying with one hand, and mopping his eyes with the other. Then returned the fear of catching cold; and the Duke of Cumberland, who was sinking with heat, felt himself weighed down, and turning round, found it was the Duke of N- standing upon his train to avoid the chill of the marble. It was very theatric to look down into the vault, where the coffin lay, attended by mourners with lights. Clavering, the groom of the bed-chamber, refused to sit up with the body, and was dismissed by the King's order. I have nothing more to tell you, but a trifle, a very trifle. The king of Prussia has totally defeated Marshall Daun. This, which would have been prodigious news a month ago, is nothing to-day; it only takes its turn among the questions, "who is to be groom of the bed-chamber? what is Sir T. Robinson to have ?" I have been to Leicester-fields to-day; the crowd was immoderate; I don't believe it will continue so. Good night." The next letter is by far the best in the whole collection. It is written at the time of his election for Lynn. He slept a couple of nights at Houghton in going and returning. "Houghton, March 23, 1761.—Here I am at Houghton! and alone! in this spot, where (except two hours last month) I have not been in sixteen years! Think, what a crowd of reflections! No, Gray, and forty church-yards, could not furnish so many; nay, I know one must feel them with greater indifference than I possess, to have patience to put them into verse. Here I am, probably for the last time of my life, though not for the last time, every clock that strikes tells me I am an hour nearer to yonder church—that church, into which I have not yet had courage to enter, where lies that mother on whom I doated, and who doated on me! There are the two rival mistresses of Houghton, neither of whom ever wished to enjoy it! There too lies he, who founded its greatness, to contribute to whose fall Europe was embroiled; there he sleeps in quiet and dignity, while his friend and his foe, rather his false ally and real enemy, N and Bh, are exhausting the dregs of their pitiful lives in squabbles and pamphlets. -e "The surprise the pictures gave me is again renewed: accustomed for many years to see nothing but wretched daubs and varnished copies at auctions, I look at these as enchantment. My own description of them seems poor; but shall I tell you truly, the majesty of Italian ideas almost sinks before the warm nature of Flemish colouring; alas! don't I grow old? My young imagination was fired with Guido's ideas; must they be plump and prominent as Abishag to warm me now? Does great youth feel with poetic limbs, as well as see with poetic eyes? In one respect I am very young, I cannot satiate myself with looking: an incident contributed to make me feel this more strongly. A party arrived, just as I did, to see the house, a man and three women in riding dresses, and they rode post through the apartments. I could not hurry before them fast enough; they were not so long in seeing, for the first time, as I could have been in one room, to examine what I knew by heart. I remember formerly being often diverted with this kind of seers; they come, ask what such a room is called, in which Sir Robert lay, write it down, admire a lobster or a cabbage in a marketpiece, dispute whether the last room was green or purple, and then hurry to the inn for fear the fish should be over-dressed. How different my sensations! not a picture here but recalls a history; not one, but I remember in Downing Street or Chelsea, where queens and crowds admired them, though seeing them as little as these travellers ! "When I had drank tea, I strolled into the garden; they told me it was now called the pleasure-ground. What a dissonant where I have passed so many charming moidea of pleasure! those groves, those allées, ments, are now stripped up or overgrown -many fond paths I could not unravel, though with a very exact clue in my memory, I met two gamekeepers, and a thousand hares! In the days when all my soul was tuned to pleasure and vivacity (and you will think, perhaps, it is far from being out of tune yet), I hated Houghton and its solitude; yet I loved this garden, as now, with many regrets, I love Houghton; Houghton, I know not what to call it, a monument of grandeur or ruin! How I have wished this evening for Lord Bute! how I could preach to him! For myself, I do not want to be preached to; I have long considered how every Balbec must wait for the chance of a Mr Wood. The servants wanted to lay me in the great apartment-what, to make me pass my night as I have done my evening! It were like proposing to Margaret Roper to be a duchess in the court that cut off her father's head, and imagining it would please her. I have chosen to sit in my father's little dressingroom, and am now by his scrutoire, where, in the height of his fortune, he used to receive the accounts of his farmers, and deceive himself, or us, with the thoughts of his economy. How wise a man at once, and how weak! For what has he built Houghton? for his grandson to annihilate, or for his son to mourn over. If Lord Burleigh could rise and view his representative driving the Hatfield stage, he would feel as I feel now. Poor little Strawberry! at least it will not be stripped to pieces by a descendant! You will find all these fine meditations dictated by pride, not by philosophy. Pray consider through how many mediums philosophy must pass, before it is purified how often must it weep, how often burn!" "My mind was extremely prepared for all this gloom by parting with Mr Conway yesterday morning; moral reflections or common places are the livery one likes to wear, when one has just had a real misfortune. He is going to Germany; I was glad to dress myself up in transitory Houghton, in lieu of very sensible concern. To-mor row I shall be distracted with thoughts, at least images of very different complexion. I go to Lynn, and am to be elected on Friday. I shall return hither on Saturday, again alone, to expect Burleighides on Sunday, whom I left at Newmarket. I must once in my life see him on his grandfather's throne. 66 Epping, Monday night, thirty-first. No, I have not seen him; he loitered on the road, and I was kept at Lynn till yesterday morning. It is plain I never knew for how many trades I was formed, when at this time of day I can begin electioneering, and succeed in my new vocation. Think of me, the subject of a mob, who was scarce ever before in a mob, addressing them in the town-hall, riding at the head of two thousand people through such a town as Lynn, dining with above two hundred of them, amid bumpers, huzzas, songs, and tobacco, and finishing with country dancing at a ball and sixpenny whisk! I have borne it all cheerfully; nay, have sat hours in conversation, the thing upon the earth that I hate, have been to hear Misses play on the harpsichord, and to see an alderman's copies of Rubens and Carlo Marat. Yet to do the folks justice, they are sensible, and reasonable, and civilized; their very language is polished since I lived among them. I attribute this to their more frequent intercourse with the world and the capital, by the help of good roads and post-chaises, which, if they have abridged the King's dominions, have at least tamed his subjects. Well, how comfortable it will be to-morrow, to see my parroquet, to play at loo, and not be obliged to talk seriously! The Heraclitus of the beginning of this letter will be overjoyed, on finishing it, to sign himself your old friend, DEMOCRITUS. P. S.-I forgot to tell you that my ancient aunt Hammond came over to Lynn to see me; not from any affection, but curiosity. The first thing she said to me, though we have not met these sixteen years, was, 66 child, you have done a thing to-day, that your father never did in all his life; you sat as they carried you, he always stood the whole time." "Madam," said I," when I am placed in a chair, I conclude I am to sit in it; besides, as I cannot imitate my father in great things, I am not at all ambitious of mimicking him in little ones. " I am sure she proposes to tell her remarks to my uncle Horace's ghost, the instant they meet. "Arlington Street, April 16, 1761.You will be pleased with the anacreontic, written by Lord Middlesex upon Sir Harry Bellendine: I have not seen any thing so antique for ages; it has all the fire, poetry, and simplicity of Horace. "Ye sons of Bacchus, come and join Pour the rich juice of Bourdeaux's wine, "He died in his vocation, of a high fever, after the celebration of some orgies." For the present, we shall here terminate our extracts from this most amusing and interesting correspondence; as the book is very dear, however, and not likely to fall into many hands, we shall perhaps recur, at some future period, to what we consider one of the richest repositories of anecdote, that have of late years been opened to the public. THE TALE OF IVAN. (Translated from the Cornish.) MR EDITOR, I HAVE sent you the following translation of one of the "Inabinogi," or tales for the instruction of youth, which is chiefly curious, as it is the only tale that I am aware of which is in existence in the Cornish language; at the same time, it may not be disagreeable to some of your readers, to see how the ancients of the times gone by conveyed their lessons of instruction to the young. It is to be found in the 251, 252, pp. of Llwyd's Archæologia Britannica, with a Welsh translation annexed. Yours, PwY. Jesus College, Oxford, 23d April 1818. 1 There were formerly a man and woman living in the parish of Llanlavan, in the place which is called Ty. Hwrdh. 2 And (the) work became scarceand therefore said the man to his wife, I will go and search for work, and you may live here. 3 He took fair leave, and travelled far towards the East; and at last he came to the house of a husbandman (Villanus), and asked there for work to perform. 4 What work canst thou perform? said the husbandman. I can perform every kind of work, said Ivan. Then they agreed for three pounds as the hire of a year. 5 And when the end of the year came, his master shewed him the three pounds. Look Ivan, said his master: here are thy wages. But if thou wilt give them me again, I will teach thee a point of doctrine. 6 Give them to me, said Ivan. No, I will not, replied his master,—I will explain it to thee. Keep you them, said Ivan. Then, said his master, "Take care not to leave the old road, for the sake of a new road." 7 Then they agreed for another year for the same wages: and when the end of the year was come-(the same conversation takes place as in Nos. 5 and 6, till the master delivers his second aphorism, which is),"Take care not to lodge where a young woman is married to an old man.' 9-10 (The same conversation, &c. takes place for the third year, and the master delivers his third aphorism),VOL. III. "Suffer thyself to be struck twice before thou strikest once, for that is the most prudent quality of all.” 11 Then Ivan would not serve any longer,-but he would go home to his wife. Not to-day, replied his master; my wife bakes to-morrow, and she shall make thee a cake to take home to thy wife. 12 And they put the nine pounds in the cake. And when Ivan was about to take his leave,-Here, said his master, is a cake for thee to take home to thy wife; and when thou and thy wife are most joyous together, then break the cake-and not sooner. 13 Fair leave he took-and towards home ("Tref," i.e. town) he travelled, and at last he came to Wayn-Iler,and there he met three merchants from Tre Rhyn, persons of his own parish, coming home from 14 Kaer Esk fair (Exeter). Oho! Ivan, said they, come with us,-joyful are we to see you. Where have you been so long? 15 I have been, said Ivan, in service, and now I am going home to my wife. Oh! said they, come with us, and thou shalt be welcome. 16 And they took the new road, and Ivan kept the old. 17 And as they were going by the fields of the houses in the meadow, not having gone far from Ivan, robbers fell upon them: 18 And they began to cry out, and with the cry which the merchants made, Ivan also shouted Thieves! thieves! 19 And at the shout which Ivan gave, the robbers left the merchants. And when they came to Market-Joy, there they met again. 20 Oh, Ivan! said they, we are bound to thee,-had it not been for thee, we should have been lost men. Come with us, and thou shalt be welcome. 21 And when they were entering the house where they were accustomed to lodge,-I must, said Ivan, see the man of the house. 22 The host! replied they; what dost thou want with the host? here we have the hostess, and she is young. If thou must see the host, go to the kitchen, and thou shalt see him. 23 And when he came to the kitchen, he saw the host, and he was an old man, and weak, and turning the spit. Y |