At the close of the cattle fair, the town is swept clean, and lasses walk about with their "sweethearts," and the fair puts on another appearance. "Cheap John's here the day," with his knives, combs, bracelets, &c. &c. The "great Tom Mathews," with his gallanty show, generally contrives to pick up a pretty bit of money by his droll ways. Then "Here's spice Harry, gingerbread, Harry-Harry-Harry!" from Richmond, with his five-and-twenty lumps of gingerbread for sixpence. Harry stands in a cart, with his boxes of "spice" beside him, attracting the general attention of the whole fair, (though he is seldomer here than at Brough-hill fair.) There are a few shows, viz. Scott's sleight of hand, horse performances, &c. &c.; and, considering the size of the town, it has really a very merry-spent fair. At six o'clock dancing begins in nearly all the public-houses, and lasts the whole of a merry neet." Jack Deighton mostly plays at the greatest dance, namely, at the Swan inn; and his companion, Horn, at one of the others; the dances are merely jigs, three reels, and four reels, and country dances, and no more than three sets can dance at a time. It is a matter of course to give the fiddler a penny or two-pence each dance; sometimes however another set slips in after the tune's begun, and thus trick the player. By this time nearly all the stalls are cleared away, and the "merry neet" is the only place to resort to for amusement. The fiddle and clarinet are to be heard every where; and it is astonishing what money is taken by the fiddlers. Some of the "spice wives," too, stop till the next morning, and go round with their cakes at intervals, which they often sell more of than before. At this festival at Brough, the husbandmen have holiday, and many get so tipsy that they are frequently turned off from their masters. Several of the " "spice wives " inove away in the afternoon to Kirby Stephen, where there is a very large fair, better sui'ed to their trade, for it commences on the day ensuing. Unfortunately, I was never present at the proclamation. From what I saw, I presume it is in consequence of a charter, and that these people offer their services that the fair-keepers may commence selling their articles sooner. never heard of their being paid for their trouble. They are constantly attended by a crowd of people, who get on the carts and booths, and, at the end, set up a loud "huzza !" W H. H. I THE TWELVE GEMS OF THE TWELVE MONTHS. For the Table Book. It is a Polish superstition, that each month has a particular gem attached to it, which governs it, and is supposed to influence the destiny of persons born in that month; it is therefore customary among friends, and lovers particularly, to present each other, on their natal day, with some trinket containing their tutelary gem, accompanied with its appropriate wish; this kind fate, or perhaps kinder fancy, generally contrives to realize according to their expectations. JANUARY. Jacinth, or Garnet denotes constancy and fidelity in every engagement. FEBRUARY. passions, and ensures peace of mind. Amethyst preserves mortals from strong MARCH. Bloodstone denotes courage and secrecy in dangerous enterprises. APRIL. Sapphire, or Diamond denotes repentance and innocence. MAY. Emerald, successive love. JUNE. Agate ensures long life and health. JULY. Ruby, or Cornelian ensures the forgetfulness or cure of evils springing from friendship or love. AUGUST. Sardonix ensures conjugal felicity. Chrysolite preserves from, or cures folly. OCTOBER. Aquamarine, or Opal denotes misfortune and hope. NOVEMBER. Topaz ensures fidelity and friendship. DECEMBER. Turquoise, or Malachite denotes the most brilliant success and happiness in every circumstance of life. E. M. S. Garrick Plays. No. VIII. [From the "Game at Chess," a Comedy, by Thomas Middleton, 1624.] Popish Priest to a great Court Lady, whom he hopes to make a Convert of. Let me contemplate; With holy wonder season my access, And by degrees approach the sanctuary more Catholical aspect. That eye That Nature's self Did wish to die : And thank their goodness, that they would forests To end our cares with such a mild decree. Another Come, Lovers, bring your cares, Bring sigh-perfumed sweets; Bedew the grave with tears, Where Death with Virtue meets Sigh for the hapless hour, That knit two hearts in one; And only gave Love power [From "Tancred and Gismund," acted be fore the Court by the Gentlemen of the Inner Temple, 1591.] A Messenger brings to Gismund a cup from the King her Father, enclosing the heart of her Lord, whom she had espoused without his sanction. Mess. Thy father, O Queen, here in this cup hath sent [From the "Virgin Widow," a Comedy, The thing to joy and comfort thee withal, Which thou lovedst best: ev'n as thou wast content Song. How blest are they that waste their weary hours In solemn groves and solitary bowers, Where neither eye nor ear Can see or hear The frantic mirth And false delights of frolic earth; Where they may sit, and pant, And breathe their pursy souls; Where neither grief consumes, nor griping want Away, false joys; ye murther where ye kiss: Gis. I thank my father, and thee, gentle Squire, For this thy travail; take thou for thy pains This bracelet, and commend me to the King. So, now is come the long-expected hour, Now hath my father satisfied his thirst What brings this cup? aye me, I thought no less, It is my Earl's, my County's pierced heart. Ah my dear heart, sweet wast thou in thy life, Could not be lotted to so good a heart. [From "Adrasta," a Tragi-comedy, by To close and wrap thee up in massy gold John Jones, 1635.] Die, die, ah die! We all must die: 'Tis Fate's decree; Then ask not why. Dirge. When we were framed, the Fates consultedly Did make this law, that all things born should die. Yet Nature strove, And did deny We should be slaves To Destiny. At which, they heapt Such misery Thee this despite, to mangle thee so foul Thy own true heart anon will follow thee, my But salt tears to wash thy bloody wound; And thou shalt have them; though I was resolved Nearly a century after the date of this Drama, Dryden produced his admirable version of the same story from Boccacio, The speech here extracted may be compared with the corresponding passage in the Sigismonda and Guiscardo, with no disadvantage to the elder performance. It is quite as weighty, as pointed, and as pas THE DEAN OF BADAJOS. BY THE ABBE BLANCHET. The dean of the cathedral of Badajos was more learned than all the doctors of Salamanca, Coimbra, and Alcala, united; he understood all languages, living and dead, and was perfect master of every science divine and human, except that, unfortunately, he had no knowledge of magic. He was inconsolable when he reflected on his ignorance in that sublime art, till he was told that a very able magician resided in the suburbs of Toledo, named don Torribio. He immediately saddled his mule, departed for Toledo, and alighted at the door of no very superb dwelling, the habitation of that great man. "Most reverend magician," said he, addressing himself to the sage, the dean of Badajos. The learned men of Spain all allow me to be their superior; "I am but I am come to request from you a much greater honour, that of becoming your pupii. Deign to initiate me in the mysteries of your art, and doubt not but you shall receive a grateful acknowledgment, suitable to the benefit conferred, and your own extraordinary merit." Don Torribio was not very polite, though he valued himself on being intimately acquainted with the highest company below. He told the dean he was welcome to seek elsewhere for a master; for that, for his part, he was weary of an occupation which produced nothing but compliments and promises, and that he should but dishonour the occult sciences by prostituting them to the ungrateful. "To the ungrateful!" exclaimed the dean: "has then the great don Torribio met with persons who have proved ungrateful? And can he so far mistake me as to rank me with such monsters?" He then repeated all the maxims and apophthegms which he had read on the subject of gratitude, and every refined sentiment bis memory could furnish. In short, he talked so well, that the conjuror, after having considered a moment, confessed he could refuse nothing to a man of such abilities, and so ready at pertinent quotations. 66 "Jacintha," said don Torribio to his old woman, lay down two partridges to the fire. I hope my friend the dean will do me the honour to sup with me to night." At the same time he took him by the hand and led him into the cabinet; when here, he touched his forehead, uttering three mysterious words, which the reader will please to remember, "Ortobolan, Pistafrier, Onagriouf." Then, without further preparation, he began to explain, with all possible perspicuity, the introductory elements of his profound science. The new disciple listened with an attention which scarcely permitted him to breathe; when, on a sudden, Jacintha entered, followed by a little old man in monstrous boots, and covered with mud up to the neck, who desired to speak with the dean on very important business. This was the postilion of his uncle, the bishop of Badajos, who had been sent express after him, and who had galloped without ceasing quite to Toledo, before he could overtake him. He came to bring him information that, some hours after his departure, his grace had been attacked by so violent an apoplexy that the most terrible consequences were to be apprehended. The dean heartily, that is inwardly, (so as to occasion no scandal,) execrated the disorder, the patient and the courier, wno had certainly all three chosen the most impertinent time possible. He dismissed the postilion, bidding him make haste back to Badajos, whither he would presently follow him; and instantly returned to his lesson, as if there were no such things as either uncles or apoplexies. A few days afterwards the dean again received news from Badajos: but this was worth hearing. The principal chanter, and two old canons, came to inform him that his uncle, the right reverend bishop, had been taken to heaven to receive the reward of his piety; and the chapter, canonically assembled, had chosen him to fill the vacant bishopric, and humbly requested he would console, by his presence, the afflicted church of Badajos, now become his spiritual bride. Don Torribio, who was present at this harangue, endeavoured to derive advantage from what he had learned; and taking aside the new bishop, after having paid him a well-turned compliment on his promotion, proceeded to inform him that he had a son, named Benjamin, possessed of much ingenuity, and good inclination, but in whom he had never perceived either taste or talent for the occult sciences. He had, therefore, he said, advised him to turn his thoughts towards the church, and he had now, he thanked heaven, the satisfaction to hear him commended as one of the most deserving divines among all the clergy of Toledo. He therefore took the liberty, most humbly, to request his grace to bestow on don Benjamin the deanery of Badajos, which he could not retain together with his bishopric. 46 "I am very unfortunate," replied the prelate, apparently somewhat embarrassed; you will, I hope, do me the justice to believe that nothing could give me so great a pleasure as to oblige you in every request; but the truth is, I have a cousin to whom I am heir, an old ecclesiastic, who is good for nothing but to be a dean, and if I do not bestow on him this benefice, I must embroil myself with my family, which would be far from agreeable. But," continued he, in an affectionate manner, will you not accompany me to Badajos? Can you be so cruel as to forsake me at a moment when tis in my power to be of service to you? Be persuaded, my honoured master, we will go together. Think of nothing but the improvement of your pupil, and leave me to provide for don Benjamin; nor doubt, out sooner or later, I will do more for him than you expect. A paltry deanery in the remotest part of Estremadura is not & 66 benefice suitable to the son of such a man as yourself." The canon law would, no doubt, have construed the prelate's offer into simony. The proposal however was accepted, nor was any scruple made by either of these two very intelligent persons. Don Torribio followed his illustrious pupil to Badajos, where he had an elegant apartment as signed him in the episcopal palace; and was treated with the utmost respect by the diocese as the favourite of his grace, and a kind of grand vicar. Under the tuition of so able a master the bishop of Badajos made a rapid progress in the occult sciences. At first he gave himself up to them, with an ardour which might appear excessive; but this intemperance grew by degrees more moderate, and he pursued them with so much prudence that his magical studies never interfered with the duties of his diocese. He was well convinced of the truth of a maxim, very important to be remembered by ecclesiastics, whether addicted to sorcery, or only philosophers and admirers of literature-that it is not sufficient to assist at learned nocturnal meetings, or adorn the mind with embellishments of human science, but that it is also the duty of divines to point out to others the way to heaven, and plant in the minds of their hearers, wholesome doctrine and Christian morality. Regulating his conduct by these commendable principles, this learned prelate was celebrated throughout Christendom for his merit and piety: and, "when he least expected such an honour," was promoted to the archbishopric of Compostella. The people and clergy of Badajos lamented, as may be supposed, an event by which they were deprived of so worthy a pastor; and the canons of the cathedral, to testify their respect, unanimously conferred on him the honour of nominating his suc cessor. Don Torribio did not neglect so alluring an opportunity to provide for his son. He requested the bishopric of the new archbishop, and was refused with all imaginable politeness. He had, he said, the greatest veneration for his old master, and was both sorry and ashamed it was "not in his power" to grant a thing which appeared so very a trifle, but, in fact, don Ferdinand de Lara, constable of Castile, had asked the bishopric for his natural son; and though he had never seen that nobleman, he had, he said, some secret, important, and what was more, very ancient obligations to him. It was therefore an indispensable duty to prefer an old benefactor to a new one |