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Ir is not generally known that the name given to tke ancient Abbey of Holyrood, founded by David I. and subsequently adopted for the Royal Palace, was acquired by circumstances truly miraculous if we may believe Hector Brece, whose account we here abridge and modernise.
David, who was crowned King of Scotland at Scone in 1124, came to visit the Castle of Edinburgh three or four years after. At this time there was about the castle a great forest full of harts and hinds. "Now was the Rood-day coming, called the Exaltation of the Cross, and because the same was a high solemn day, the King passed to his contemplation. After the masses were done with vast solemnity and reverence, appeared before him many young and insolent barons of Scotland, right desirous to have some pleasure and solace by chase of hounds in the said forest. At this time was with the King a man of singular and devout life named Alcuin, Canon of the order of St. Augustine, who was long time confessor afore to King David in England, the time that he was Earl of Huntingdon and Northumberland." Alcuin used many arguments to dissuade the King from going to the hunt. "Nevertheless, his dissuasion little availed, or the King was Onally so provoked by inopportune solicitation of his barons, that he passed, notwithstanding the solemnity of the day, to his hounds." As the KiDg was coming to the vale that lay to the east from the castle, subsequently named the Canongate, the stag passed through the wood with such din of bugles, and horses, and braying of dogs, that "all the beasts were raised from their dens. Now was the King coming to the foot of the crag, and all his nobles severed, here and there, from him, at their game and solace, when suddenly appeared to his sight the fairest hart that ever was seen before with living creature." There seems to have been something awful and mysterious about the appearance and movements of this hart which frightened King David's horse past control, and it ran away over mire and moss, followed by the strange hart "so fast that he threw both the King and his horse to the ground. Then the King cast back his hands between the horns of this hart, to have saved him from the stroke thereof," when a miraculous Holy Cross slid into the King's hands, and remained, while the hart fled away with great violence. This occurred " on the same place where now springs the Rood Well." The hunters, affrighted by the accident, gathered about the King from all parts of the wood to comfort him, and fell on their knees, devoutly adoring the holy cross, which was not a common, but a heavenly piece of workmanship, "for there is no man can show of what matter it is of, metal or tree." Soon after, the King returned to his castle, and in the night following he was admonished by a vision in his sleep, to build an abbey of canons regular in the same place where he had been saved by the cross. Alcuin, his confessor, by no means "suspended his good mind," and the King sent his trusty
servants to France and Flanders, "who brought right crafty masons to br.ild this abbey, dedicated in the honour of the holy cross." The cross remained for more than two centuries in the monastery, but when David II., son of Robert Bruce, set out on his expedition against the English, he took the cross wjth him, and when ho was taken prisoner at the battle (if Neville's Cross, the cross shared the monarch's fate. It subsequently became an appendaec of Durham Cathedral. The stately abbey of Holy Rood *» despoiled by the Protector Somerset in 1554, and totally destroyed by the Presbyterians at the Revolution.
1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF MR. AND MRS. SANDBOYS.'
This is a very clever serial work, by Henry Mavk* and George Cruikshank;—the sketches by the latter are sui generis, and would make the most saturnine and the most stupid laugh,—that -wholesome laughter after which we feel better and cleverer; humour» very influential, if not absolutely infectious. Most of our readers are familiar, at least by name, with Buttermere, the beautiful, in which vale are cradled the quiet homes of a few Britons like Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys. It is almost impossible to read Mr. Maybe**! graphic account of Buttermere and its inhabitants, and not believe that the actual living population late been set up in type, for the edification of Londoners. Our curiosity is so much excited on that point, that we mean to send a copy of the first number to a friend hard by Borrowdale, and ask him if his veritable neighbours are or are not in print. As for the scenery about Buttermere and Crummock Water, it is exquisitely , painted by Mr. Mayhew, and we are disposed v regret that the business of the tale will take him from , that old-world loveliness, to the noise and turmoil of of the modern Babel. The English lakes are bein? fast spoiled, by having a fashionable season, but lilt* Buttermere will remain untainted for many years jet. By the way, the romance of Mary, the beauty ot i Buttermere, will not bear the test of close inspeetkE. , I have heard a few facts, from one who remember! | her well, and who dined at the inn, on the very da; of the execution of her lover at Carlisle, and «s waited on by her on that occasion, which tend w prove that, instead of being heart-broken, she *» | heart-wholo—if not heartless.
Let the untravelled Londoner "entertain conception" of such a place as Mr. Mayhew describes thusit is not a far-fetched fancy.
"WHAT BUTTERMERE IS SOT.
"Here the knock of the dun never startles the i student, for (thrice blessed spot!) there are no knockers. Here are no bills, to make one dread the Codiid!: tf
tie spring, or the summer, or the Christmas, or whatever other 'festive' season they may fall due upon, for "h, earthly paradise!) there are no tradesmen, and, better still, no discounters, and, greater boon than all—no! not one attorney within nine statute sites of mountain, fell, and morass, to ruffle the serenity of the village inn! Here that sure revolving til-gatherer, as inevitable and cruel as the fate in a Grecian Tragedy, never comes with long book and short inkhom, to convince us it is Lady Day, nor 'Paving,' nor 'Lighting,' nor 'Water,' ' Sewers,' nor 'Poor's,'nor'Parochials,'nor ' Church,' nor ' County,' nor' Queen's,' nor any other accursed accompaniment of oar boasted civilization. * * * * Here there are no newspapers at breakfast to stir up your early bile vith a grievance, or to render the merchant's morning meal indigestible with the list of bankrupts, or startle the fundholder with a sense that all security for property is at an end. Here there are no easy-chair philosophers,—not particularly illustrious themselves for i delight in hard labour,—to teach us to ' sweep all who will not work into the dust-bin.'"
All Buttermere is attracted to London by the Great Exhibition—all but Mr. Sandboys, who hates norelty aud is afraid of London wickedness, and his wife, who hates the far-renowned 'London dirt.' No; they won't go. But what is their fate? Alas! everybody being gone, how shall they live? The grocer, the smith, the inn-keepers, the butcher, the brewer,— all are gone. In this predicament, Mr. Sandboys, after many dreadful misfortunes, is obliged to start fur London to avoid being starved in Cumberland!
The whole party set off, father, mother, two children, two servants, and twenty-three packages of luggage. Arrived at Workington, they get into the wrong train, go to Holborn Hill in Cumberland instead of the Holborn Hill on whose proud summit stands the "Bull aud Mouth," and their twenty-three packages go on to London. The next mistake is that the whole party are carried asleep to Edinburgh, and •hen they are at last en route for London, (what a B»bel it will be two months hence !) a pretended "detective," who kindly offers to put the Sandboys on cij guard against thieves, robs him, not only of all his <asb, but of his railway tickets! Taken before a magistrate, the astounded and humiliated Sandboys tuds a friend in the police inspector, and supplied with a wan, starts again for town. On his arrival, the Bull wd Mouth, of course, is full. Sandboys, utterly bc•lidcred, is recommended to the house of Mrs. Foke*U. who has one apartment to let at five shillings anight—it is the cellar, from, the rough vaulted roof °' which is suspended a hammock, and with that
thing" the verdant Sandboys are obliged to be wntcnt. And now, reader, if you want to know how laanJ 'imes they tried to get into the *' thing," how "My times they came out of it in the most surprising ■naiier, what dually be/el them, and/ell on them ;—if you want to know these things,—and they are of great la>portance to you, (as of course, you are going to ">*n)—then you must get this amusing book, and if
you don't derive a little healthy laughter from it, you will never laugh any more in your Life, and it is problematical to us whether you ever have laughed.
NOTICES OF BOOKS.
"The British Metropolis in 1S51." A little guide book to Loudon, on a very novel and useful plan, the idea of which is good, and the execution most creditable. The author appears to have taken great interest in his subject, and we congratulate him on the result of his labours. Still there are some errors which it would be well to correct in a future edition; we are told that Box Hill is beyond Hampton Court instead of near Dorking, the fine new Greek church in London Wall is not noticed at all, although perhaps, for its size, the most expensive church of modern London. Still these errors are the exception, and the fact of our finding but them in the course of our reading, shows that the author is minutely accurate, and to be depended upon.
"Elementary Anatomy and Physiology, for Schools and Private Instruction." By W. Lovett. We arc sorry that we have not found an earlier opportunity of noticing this valuable addition to our daily increasing stock of school-books. Having glanced through its contents, we can safely affirm that the teacher will find it an excellent and useful elementary book for conveying instruction upon subjects which ought not to be wholly lost sight of in any scheme of education. The nature of the work and the author's object in its publication arc, however, so fully and clearly stated iu the opening sentences of the preface, that we prefer giving Mr. Lovett's own words to any further remarks of our own. "This little work," he observes, "may be said to have had its origin in the efforts I have becu making, for some time past, to impart to children some kuowledge of their own physical, mental, and moral nature; believing it to be an essential and important branch of youthful education. In the pursuit of my object I have had to glean my information from many sources, and to simplify and condense it, and to give it in such a form as I thought might be best comprehended and appreciated by those I sought to instruct. And, having to some little extent succeeded, I have thought it might aid others, engaged in the great work of education, if I printed what I have taught in a lesson form; accompanied by drawings of the diagrams I used, together with an outline of the method I adopted, and still pursue, in teaching this kind of knowledge to several classes of both sexes, weekly." It remains for us to state that the diagrams are remarkably well drawn and coloured; that the subject-matter of the volume is admirably arranged and classified, and that the style throughout is lucid, clear, and easy of comprehension.
SCRAPS. "I prxn that our ancestors used for Lord the name of Laford, which, (as it should seem,) from some aspiration in the pronouncing, they wrote Illuford and Illiifurd. Afterward it grew to be written Loverd, and by receiving like abridgment as other our ancient appellations have done, it is in one syllable become Lord. To deliver, therefore, the true etymology, the reader shall understand that, albeit wc have our name of bread from breod, as our ancestors were wont to call it, yet used they also, and that most commonly, to call bread by the name of Illaf, from whence we now only retain the name of the form or fashion wherein bread is usually made, calling it a loaf; whereas loaf, coming of Illaf or Laf, is rightly also bread itself, and was not of our ancestors taken for the form only; that such as were endued with great wealth and means above others, were chiefly renowned (especially in these northern regions) for their housekeeping and good hospitality; that is, for being able, and using to feed and sustain many men, and therefore were they particularly honoured with the name and title of lllaford, which is as much as to say, as an afforder of laf, that is, a bread-giver, intending (as it scemeth) by bre:id, the sustenance of man, that being the substance of our food the most agreeable to nature, and that which in our daily prayers we especially desire at the hands of God. The name and title of Lady was anciently written Illeafdianor Leafdian, from whence it came to be Lafdy, and lastly Lady. I have showed here last before how illaf or laf was sometime our name of bread, as also the reason why our noble and principal men came to be honoured in the name of Laford, which now is Lord, and even the like in correspondence of reason must appear in this Leafdian, the feminine of Laford; the first syllable whereof being anciently written Illeaf, and not Illaf, must not, therefore, alienate it from the like nature and sense, for that only scemeth to have been the feminine sound, and wc see that of Leafdian we have not retained leady, but lady. Well, then, both Illaf and Illeaf we must here understand to signify one thing which is bread; Diau is as much to say as serve; and so is Leafdian a bread-server: whereby it appeareth that as the Laford did allow food and sustenance, so the Leafdian did see it served and disposed to the guests. And our ancient and yet-continued custom, that our ladies aud gentlewomen do use to carve and serve their guests at the table, which in other countries is altogether strange and unusual, doth for proof hereof well accord and correspond with this our ancient and honourable feminine appellation."
The Earl of St. Alban's, Secretary to Queen Henrietta Maria during all her misfortunes, found himself at the Restoration but in an indifferent condition.
Being one day with Charles II. when all distinctions were laid aside, a stranger came with an importunate suit for an employment of great value
which was just then vacant. The king ordered him to be admitted, and bid the earl personate himse!.'. The gentleman addressed himself accordingly, enumerated his services to the royal family, and hoped the grant of the place would not be deemed too great a reward. "By no means," replied the earl, "and I am only sorry that as soon as I heard of the vacancy I conferred it on my faithful friend the Earl of St. Alban's, (pointing to the king,) who has constantly followed the fortunes of my father and myself, and has hitherto gone unrewarded; but when anything of this kind happens again worthy of your acceptance, pray let me sec you." The gentleman withdrew; the king smiiej at the jest, and confirmed the grant to the earl.— Addison's Anecdotes.
There is a tradition that one of the old esquire? in Maiden, Massachusetts, had a slave who had been in the family until he was about seventy years of ase Perceiving that there was not much work left for the old man, the esquire took him one day and made bio a somewhat pompous address, to the following effect .— "You have been a faithful servant to me, and ny father before me. I have long been thinking wb»t 1 should do to reward you for your services. I give you your freedom. You arc your own master; Too are your own man." Upou this the old negro shoot liis grisly head, and with a sly glance, showing tiu: he saw through his master's intention, quickly replied, "No, no, massa; you eat dc meat, and now you mu;t pick de bone."
"Proper words in proper places make the tree definition of a style."—Swift.
AN EXTRAORDINARY ALTAR-WECE.
"over a Popish altar at Worms," says Burnet, "there is a picture one would think invented to ridicule transubslantiation. There is a windmill, and tit Virgin Mary throws Christ into the hopper, and be comes out at the eye of the mill all in wafers, whiek> priest takes up to give to the people."—Ctmaingkan' Life of Hogarth.
"all Flesh Is Grass." Bishop Hughes, in a sermon to his parishioner repeated the quotation that " all flesh is grass." Tie season was Lent, and a few days afterwards he en- , countered Terence O'Collins, who appeared to hiTt something on his mind. "The top of the moniin' to your riverencc," said Terence, "did I fairly understand your riverence to say ' all flesh is grass,' U^ Sunday?" "To be sure you did," replied the Bishops "and you're a heretic if you doubt it." "Oh! diril the bit do I doubt anything your riverence says," said the wily Terence; "but if your riverence plaies, I wish to know whether in this Lent time I coald not , be afther having a small piece of bafe bv way o! > salad?"
SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES OP WORTHIES OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH.
We think that most of our readers will admit that the biographies hitherto included in our sketches of English divines have presented portraitures of human character as nearly faultless—as free from human frailty and infirmity—as tbey might reasonably hope to meet with. The meek and patient Hooker—the pure-minded and charitable Taylor—the honest and high-minded Barrow, belong emphatically to that select class or category of mortals who have been placed by the suffrage of intelligent and truthful men of all parties, in a position far beyond the reach of vulgar praise or censure. The subject of our present sketch—the witty and satirical Dr. South, has left behind him a reputation of a somewhat different kind. Inferior in learning and ability to neither of the great ornaments of the English Church, on whose lives we have commented, and endowed with a wonderful faculty of vigorous and searching eloquence, he was nevertheless, as his writings prove, a man of intolerant disposition, a sincere and unselfish, but vehement and angry partisan, a thorough "good hater" of the practices and tenets of his opponents, and one who occasionally lacked the charity and discretion, as well as the decorousne.ss of language and demeanour, which should distinguish the conduct of the Christian minister.
Dr. Robert South was born in the year 1633. His birth-place was the pleasant suburban village of Hackney; a quiet sequestered village then, for many miles of cultivated fields and verdant pastures lay between it and the great metropolis. His father was a prosperous merchant of London; his mother a woman of good family, from the county of Kent, whose maiden name was Berry. In childhood and early boyhood, South was distinguished for quickness and intellectual precocity. Having passed very creditably through a course of preparatory instruction, at the age of fourteen he was sent to Westminster school, as a King's Scholar. This famous seminary was at that time under the dictatorship of the renowned Busby; the sturdy disciplinarian who walked with covered head amongst his boys, even before a royal visitor, solemnly assuring his Majesty afterwards, in explanation of his conduct, that it was necessary to preserve bis dignity before his scholars, and to appear the greatest man, even though a king were •present. Although his presence inspired immoderate awe in the little kingdom over which he held despotic sway, this distinguished pedagogue is represented to have been a man of mean and insignificant appearance, and in height, considerably below the middle stature. A tall Irishman, it is said, once addressed him in a coffee-house, in the following words: "Will you allow me, Giant, to pass on to my seat?" "Certainly, Pigmy, was the reply." "I alluded, sir," said the Celt, "to the vastness of your intellect."
"And I," retorted Busby, "to the size of yours." As a schoolmaster, there is no doubt that Busby united considerable tact in tuition, with great learning. But woe to the unlucky wight who possessed but a moderate amount of brains, or neglected his tasks whilst under his control! The Westminster pedagogue boasted of the efficacy of flagellation, and rarely erred upon the side of mercy. Under his successful but not very benignant sway, the school furnished an abundance of good scholars, and he invariably spoke of his rod, as the sieve to prove them.
At Westminster, whilst yet a mere youth, South distinguished himself by an act of courageous and uncompromising loyalty, which, young as he was, might have involved him in some trouble. On the 30th of January, 1649, (the day appointed for the execution of King Charles I.) being reader of the Latin prayers that morning, he publicly, and to the surprise and consternation of his auditors, prayed for the king by name, "but an hour or two at most before his sacred head was struck off." This was the first public indication which he had an opportunity of giving of the fervent spirit of loyalty which animated him through life. We may believe that that spirit was nurtured or strengthened in a great degree, by the associations he formed at Westminster; for in a sermon "prepared for delivery at a solemn meeting of his school-fellows in the Abbey," he thus commemorated in after life the loyal character of that seminary. "Westminster is a school which neither disposes men to division in church, nor sedition in state—a school so untaintcdly loyal, that I can truly and knowingly aver that, in the worst of times, (iu which it was my lot to be a member of it,) we really were King's Scholars, as well as called so. And this loyal genius always continued among us, and grew up with us, which made that noted Coryphanis, Dr. J. Owen, often say, 'that it would never be well with the nation, until this school was suppressed.' "'
In 1651, having been, elected a student of Christ Church, South proceeded to Oxford. His great attainments and undoubted ability soon brought him into notice at the university, and in the year 1655 he published a copy of Latin verses, the subject of which was, oddly enough, a panegyric on Oliver Cromwell, on the occasion of his concluding a peace with the Dutch. As this poem, however, was a mere college exercise, upon a subject proposed by the university magnates, it cannot be regarded as any declaration of South's political feelings, nor would it be fair to look upon it in that light. It was nevertheless afterwards triumpbantlyrcferred to by his opponents, (when smarting under his vigorous and relentless raillery,) as a proof that he was himself at this period of his life a waverer and trimmer in political matters. It is very clear that the compliment paid to Cromwell in verse, was never repeated by South in prose. A much more genuine expression of his opinion of the Protector
(1) "MemoiUla of Woetmiruter," by the Rer. M. Walcot. 1849. will be found in a sermon which he preached in Westminster Abbey in the year 1684. Nothing can be racier than the contemptuous bitterness with which he there speaks of the man whom lie had been constrained to eulogize at college, and we feel little doubt that the sentiments so earnestly and characteristically expressed, were those which be entertained in his earlier as well as his maturer manhood.
"For who," he says, "that should view the small despicable beginningsof somethings and persons atfirst, could imagine or prognosticate those vast and stupendous increases of fortune that have afterwards followed them? Who, that had looked upon Agathocles first handling the clay, and making pots under his father, and afterwards turning robber, could have thought that from such a condition he should come to he king of Sicily? Who that had seen Masaniello a poor fisherman, with his red cap and his angle, could have reckoned it possible to see such a pitiful thing, within a week after, shining in his cloth of gold, and with a word or a nod absolutely commanding the whole city of Naples? And who that had beheld such a bankrupt, beggarly fellow as Cromtcell, first entering the parliament house with a threadbare, torn cloak, and a greasy hat, (and perhaps neither of then paid for,) could have suspected that in the space of so few years he should, by the murder of one king, and the banishment of another, ascend the throne, be invested in the royal robes, and want nothing of the state of a king, but the changing of his hat into a crown?"
It has been slated that this singular piece of pulpit rhetoric was delivered in the presence of King Charles II., who was so tickled by the humorous description of Cromwell's first appearance in Parliament, that he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and turning to Rochester said, "Ods fish, Lory, your chaplain must be a bishop; therefore put me in mind of him at the next death."
But, to return to South's college career, we find that at this inauspicious period he gave many proofs of his steady attachment to the ritual and liturgy of the Church of England, which are in themselves perfectly inconsistent with the notion that he had in the slightest degree swerved from the loyal principles in which he had been educated. His open observance of the proscribed forms of worship more than once drew down upon him the censure of his superiors, and Dr. John Owen, then Vice-Chancellor of the University, (the "noted Coryphaeus" before alluded to,) who, having himself been regularly ordained, had afterwards joined the Presbyterian party, went so far as to oppose, and that most vehemently, lib obtaining his Master of Arts degree. Hearing that South was constantly in the habit of worshipping according to the liturgy, he sent for him, and menaced him with expulsion from the University, if he persisted in the practice, observing that " he could do no less in gratitude to his Highness the Protector, and his other friends, who had thought him worthy of the dignities he then stood possessed of." To this speech South is stated to have replied with
cutting severity, *' Gratitude among friends is like credit among tradesmen: it keeps business up, and maintains the correspondence; and we pay not so much out of a principle that we ought to discharge our debts, as to secure ourselves a place to be trusted another time."
Notwithstanding the opposition of Owen, South obtained his degree in 1(557, and was ordained in the following year. The discouraging aspect of the times did not prevent him from at once commencing his ministrations, and with a spirit of zeal and intrepidity unparalleled at that period, he plunged into a series of attacks on the Puritans. Oa the 24th of July, 1659, (the year before the Restoration.) he preached an Assize Sermon at Oxford, entitled, "Iuterest deposed and Truth restored, or a Trnrd in season," which he afterwards published with i dedication to " The Right Worshipful Edward Atkins, formerly one of the Justices of the Common Pleas" In this dedication he describes one object of hit discourse to be the "defence of the ministry, and that at such a time," he continues, "when now owned them upon the bench, . . . but wheu, on the contrary, we lived to hear one, in the very fare of the University, (as it were in defiance of us and our profession,) openly, in his charge, defend the Quakers and fanatics, persons not fit to be named in such courts, but in an indictment!" The language of t!ie sermon, and the topics introduced' into it, tend to give us a high opinion of the preacher's courage and ability. Every passage appears skilfully framed to irritate the dominant party, and to provoke their bitterest animosity. The selfishness, pride, and hypocrisy of the pretenders to over-godliness were ridiculed and exposed with singular force and animation, and in a tone of the most perfect fearlessness Having regard to the peculiar circumstances of the period, who will not admire the vigour of the following assault F
"Many, while they havo preached Christ in tlieir sermons," observed the intrepid churchman, "tare read a lecture of atheism in their practice. We hire many here who speak of godliness, mortification, ad self denial; but if these are so, what means ihe bleating of the sheep, and the lowing of the oxen, the noise of their ordinary sins, and the cry of their great ones? If godly, why do they wallow and steep in all the carnalities of the world, under pretence of Christian liberty? Why do they mike , religion ridiculous hy pretending to prophecy; and when their prophecies prove delusions, why do thej blaspheme?' If such are self-dcniers, what means the griping, the prejudice, the covetousness, and the pluralities preached against, and retained, and the arbitrary government of many? When such ntf»
(II Alluding to the conduct of an Independent divine, "*when Cromwell was seized with the sickness of which he ti.flt declared that God had revealed to him that the Protector w^ recover and live thirty years longer, '• for that God h«d tf1** him up for a work which could not bo done in lew tirre;" >ut Oliver's death being published two days afterwards, the MM divine publicly expostulated with God in prayer, txclsisuaj, "Lord, thou hast lied unto us; yea, thou hast lied."