festival is still kept by them at Norwich, and also at Doncaster, with a solemn guild. Perhaps the iron combs, with which he is said to have been tormented, gave rise to this choice. For an account of the anniversaries of the different trades at Montpelier, in France, see T.T. for 1818, p. 29.

5.-SAINT AGATHA.

'The cities of Palermo and Catana dispute the honour of her birth: but they do much better, who, by copying her virtues, strive to become her fellow-citizens in heaven.' (Butler.) She suffered martyrdom under Decius, in the year 251.

7.-SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY.

The institution of this and the two following Sundays cannot be traced higher than the beginning of the sixth or the close of the fifth century. When the words Septuagesima, Sexagesima, and Quinquagesima (seventieth, sixtieth, and fiftieth), were first applied to denote these three Sundays, the season of Lent had generally been extended to a fast of six weeks, that is, thirty-six days, not reckoning the Sundays, which were always celebrated as festivals. (Shepherd.)

*8. 1576.-ROBERT BURTON BORN,

The celebrated author of the Anatomy of Melancholy, a book full of all such reading as never was read,' and the only one which Dr. Johnson said would induce him to rise at six o'clock in the morning to peruse. The following lines by this author are thought to have suggested to Milton many ideas in his Il Penseroso.'

When I goe musing all alone

Thinking of divers things fore-known,
When I would build castles in the air,
Void of sorrow and void of fear,
Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet,
Methinks the time runs very fleet:
All my joys to this are folly,
Naught so sweet as Melancholy.

When I goe walking all alone,
Recounting what I have ill done,
My thoughts on me then tyrannise,
Fear and sorrow me surprise,
Whether I tarry still or go,

Methinks the time moves very slow:
All my griefs to this are jolly,
Naught so sad as Melancholy.

When to my selfe I act and smile,
With pleasing thoughts the time beguile,
By a brook side or wood so green,
Unheard, unsought for, or unseen,
A thousand pleasures doe me bless,
And crown my soul with happiness.
All my joyes besides are folly,
None so sweet as Melancholy.
When I lie, sit, or walk alone,
I sigh, I grieve, making great mone,
In a dark grove, or irksome den,
With discontents and furies then,
A thousand miseries at once
Mine heavy heart and soul ensconce.
All my griefs to this are jolly,
None so sour as Melancholy.'

*8. 1817.-FRANCIS HORNER, ESQ. m.p. died. This gentleman, at the age of thirty-eight, was cut off by a pulmonary consumption at Pisa, whither he had ineffectually removed for the recovery of his health. In regard to his talents, reputation, and integrity, it is sufficient to say, that the late Mr. Ponsonby frequently deferred to his judgment; and when that justly celebrated leader thought of retiring, he pointed out Mr. Horner as worthy to be his political successor. *9. 1815.-DR. CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN DIED, ÆT. 49.

With the name of Dr. Buchanan will ever be associated the cause of promoting Christianity in India. He was a rare instance of zeal, judg

1 See the remainder of this poem, prefixed to the Anatomy of Melancholy.'

ment, and munificence. His Christian Researches' in Asia is a most interesting work; and his prizes for promoting a knowledge of the state of India, by calling attention to the country and its circumstances, evinced a princely generosity. His Three Discourses on the Jubilee show him to have been the christian and the patriot.

*12. 1814.-CUSTOM-HOUSE DESTROYED BY

FIRE.

In a very few hours the destruction of this old but useful pile of building was complete. The first custom-house built in London was in 1559; which was burnt down in 1718, and rebuilt the same year: and it was on Saturday, the above date, again totally consumed by fire. The first custom-house, therefore, stood 159 years; the second 96 years. The present building, recently finished, is in a style of magnificence worthy of the immense metropolis and the noble river to which it forms so conspicuous an ornament. 14.-SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY.-See Septuagesima, p. 38.

14.-SAINT VALENTINE.

Valentine was an antient presbyter of the church; he suffered martyrdom in the persecution under Claudius II, at Rome. Being delivered into the custody of a man named Asterius, one of whose daughters was afflicted with blindness, he restored the use of her sight, and, by this miracle, converted the whole family to Christianity. They afterwards suffered martyrdom. Valentine, after a year's imprisonment at Rome, was beaten with clubs, and then beheaded, in the Via Flaminia, about the year 270.-The modern celebration of this day, with young persons, is well known. See T.T. for 1814, p. 32 and p. 33, note, for an elegant jeu d'esprit on this subject; T.T. for 1815, p. 52; and T.T. for 1817, p. 40.

*14. 1780.-SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE died, The learned author of Commentaries on the Laws of England,' which are at once celebrated for the perspicuity and elegance of their style, and (generally speaking) for their sound and constitutional principles. He is charged, however, with softening some passages in his first edition, to make them more agreeable to the crown lawyers. His Farewell to the Muse' contains some pleasing lines. We select the following:

As by some tyrant's stern command,
A wretch forsakes his native land,
In foreign climes condemned to roam,
An endless exile from his home;
Pensive he treads the destined way,
And dreads to go, nor dares to stay;
Till on some neighb'ring mountain's brow
He stops and turns his eyes below;
There, melting at the well-known view,
Drops a last tear and bids adieu;
So I thus doomed from thee to part,
Gay queen of fancy and of art,
Reluctant move with doubtful mind,
Oft stop and often look behind!
Companion of my tender age,
Serenely gay and sweetly sage,

How blithesome were we wont to rove,
By verdant hill or shady grove;

Where fervent bees with humming voice
Around the honied oak rejoice;
And aged elms with awful bend
In long cathedral walks extend.
Lulled by the lapse of gliding floods-
Cheered by the warbling of the woods;
How blest my days, my thoughts how free,

In sweet society with thee!

Then all was joyous-all was young,
And years unheeded rolled along.

But now the pleasing dream is o'er,

These scenes must charm me now no more!
Lost to the field and torn from you--

Farewell! a long-a last adieu!

Me wrangling courts and stubborn law
To smoke and crowds, and cities draw;

There selfish faction rules the day,
And pride and av'rice throng the way;
Diseases taint the murky air,
And midnight conflagrations glare:
Loose revelry and riot bold

In frighted streets their orgies hold;
Or when in silence all is drowned,
Fell murder walks her lonely round:
No room for peace-no room for you:
Adieu, celestial nymphs, adieu!

6

*15. 1708.-JOHN PHILIPS DIED, Author of 'The Splendid Shilling,' Blenheim,' and Cyder;' which possess considerable merit as poems: and he is a strenuous advocate for smoking, to which he was himself much addicted.

*17. 1571.-REMOVAL OF MARCLEY HILL. On this day, an earthquake in Herefordshire removed Marcley Hill to a considerable distance from the place where it stood. It continued in motion two or three days, and either carried away or overturned every thing which impeded its progress. The ground thus moved was about twentysix acres. (Speed and Camden.) And in 1583, according to Stow, a similar prodigy happened in Dorsetshire.

6

COWFER.

Philips, in his Cyder,' thus notices the removal of Marcley Hill :

I nor advise nor reprehend the choice

Of MARCLEY HILL; the apple nowhere finds
A kinder mould: yet 'tis unsafe to trust

Deceitful ground: who knows but that once more
This mount may journey, and, his present scite
Forsaking, to thy neighbour's bounds transfer
The goodly plants, affording matter strange

And settle on a new freehold,

AS MARCLEY HILL had done of old.

HUDIBRAS.