Maria with great applause in several cities of Germany, affirmed that a cross which she wore on her neck was the very same that once belonged to the unfortunate Queen. Relics of this description have never yet been subjected to the proof of their authenticity. But if there is any thing which may be reasonably believed to have been once the property of the Queen, it is the veil with which she covered her head on the scaffold, after the executioner, whether from awkwardness or confusion is uncertain, had wounded the unfortunate victim in the shoulder by a false blow. This Veil still exists, and is in the possession of Sir J. C. Hippisley, who claims to be descended from the Stuarts by the mother's side. He had an engraving made from it by Matteo Diottavi, in Rome, 1818, and gives copies to his friends. We have obtained a sight of one of them, and give the following as the result of our examination. The Veil is embroidered with gold spangles by (as is said) the Queen's own hand, in regular rows crossing each other, so as to VARIETIES. CHRISTIAN PRACTICE. A In the most flourishing period of the reign of Louis XIV. two negro youths, the sons of a prince, being brought to the court of France, the king ap pointed a jesuit to instruct them in letters, and in the Christian religion, and gave to each of them a commission in his guards. The elder, who was remarkable for bis candour and ingenuity, made great improvement, more particularly in the doctrines of religion. A brutal fellow, upon some dispute, insulted him with a blow. The gallant youth never so much as offered to resent it. person who was his friend, took an opportunity to talk with him that evening, alone, upon his behaviour, which he told him was too tame, especially in a soldier. "Is there then," said the young African, one revelation for soldiers, and another for merchants and gownmen? The good father to whom I owe all my knowledge, has earnestly inculcated forgiveness of injuries done me, assuring me that a Christian was by no means to retaliate abuses of any kind." "The good father,” replied his friend, " may fit you for a monastery by his lessons, but never for the army and rules of a court. In a word," continued Attainder. When the gallant Count de Montgomery was condemned to death by Catharine de Medicis, his children were also deprived of the title of nobles. When Montgomery heard this part of the sentence read, he exclaimed, "If my children have not the virtue of nobles to retrieve this : loss, I consent to their degradation." INTERVIEWS WITH A SHADE. No. I. As I stood musing over the foundations of our intended Town Hall, I fell into a train of ideas toe melancholy to be interesting to your readers-the chasm which a short period of time had made in our once most esteemed neighbourhood. The promenade of the retired and elegant-of the chaste patroness and benevolent donor, whose chief enjoyment in the alleviate distress, and mitigate the sufferings of the calm decline of life, lay in projecting schemes to The mansion had fled, to unfortunate, led me on. venerable inhabitant; what followed in my mind may which I had often looked up with respect for its be left to the imagination of your readers. On leaving the ground, where I had stood long enough to form small squares, and edged with a gold he, if you do n't call the colonel to an account, excite the imputation of singularity, I was accosted. border, to which another border has been sub- you will be branded with the infamy of cowardice, by a gentleman in black, whose features were not sequently joined, in which the following words are embroidered in letters of gold : ، Velam Serenis-imae Mariae, Scotia et Callin Regina Martyris, quo induebatur dum ab Heretica ad mortem iniustissimam condemnata fuit. Anno Sal. MDLXXXVI. a nobilissima matrona Anglicana diu conservatum et tandem, donationis ergo Deo, et Societati Jesu eonsecratum | | On the plate there is an inscription, with a double certificate of its authenticity, which states, that this Veil, a family treasure of the expelled house of Stuart, was finally in possession of the last branch of that family, the Cardinal of York, who preserved it for many years in his private chapel, among the most precious relics, and at his death bequeathed it to Sir J. Hippisley, together with a valuable Plutarch, and a Codex with painted (illuminated) letters, and a gold coin struck in Scotland in the reign of Queen Mary; and it was specially consecrated by Pope Pius VII. in his palace on the Quirinal, April 29, 1818. Sir John Hippisley, during a former residence at Rome, had been very intimate with the Cardinal of York, and was instrumental in obtaining for him, when he with the other cardinals emigrated to Venice in 1798, a pension of £4000 a year from the Prince of Wales, now King George IV. but for which, the fugitive | cardinal, all whose revenues were seized by the French, would have been exposed to the greatest distress. The cardinal desired to requite this service by the bequest of what he considered so valuable. According to a note on the plate, the Veil is eighty-nine English inches long and forty-three broad, so that it seems to have been rather a kind of shawl or scarf than a veil. If we remember rightly, Melville in his Memoirs, which Schiller had read, speaks of a handkerchief belonging to the Queen, which she gave away before her death, and Schiller found upon this anecdote the well-known words of the farewell scene, addressed to Margaret Curl. Nimm dieses Tuch! Ich habs mit eigner Hand "I and have your commission taken from you." would fain," answerell the young man, "act consistently in every thing; but since you press me with that regard to my honour, which you have always shown, I will wipe off so foul a stain, though I must own I gloried in it before." Immediately upon this, he desired his friend to go from him, and appoint the aggressor to meet him early in the morning. Acord ingly they met and fought, and the brave youth disarmed his adversary, and forced him to ask his pardon publicly. This done, the next day he threw up his commission, and desired the king's leave to return to his father. At parting, he embraced his brother and bis friend with tears in his eyes, saying, "He did not imagine the Christians had been such unaccountable people, and that he could not comprehend how their faith was of any use to them, if it did not influence their practice. In my country, we think it no dishonour to act up to the principles of our religion." a Chambers have terminated their session with New Parliamentary Practice.-The Bavarian dinner; an example which, if any thing had been predicated concerning it, we would have expected to be set by the Parliament of Great Britain. The entertainment at Munich was enlivened with songs, and the patriotic legislators renounced Champagne and Burgundy to drink their native Rhenish wines. Happily (says a French Journalist, mentioning the circumstance,) we have cause to hope that the national spirit of the English will not carry them to such a length in favour of porter. " " Harvey Aston-The late Harvey Aston associated much with the royal family; and when he was going to India, where he lost his life, the king enjoined In the fatal meeting with Colonel Allen, Mr. Aston him most affectionately never more to fight a duel. the greatest firmness continued standing, his arm was shot through the body and back hone, but with extended, and pistol presented, for about a couple of minutes. Sensible that he had received his death, wound, he exclaimed, " It never shall be said, that the last act of my life was an act of revenge" and gradually lowering his arm to his side, he sunk down for ever. Parliamentary Etiquette.-In France, under the old regime, there was an honourable distinction paid to the Tiers Etat, or Commons, by the other two orders, very different from what takes place in Britain. When a Royal Session occurred, the Commons were received by the nobles and clergy standing and uncovered. In our parliament, when the King meets the Lords and Commons, the Commons are not permitted to sit down, but must stand below the bar. The French assume to themselves the credit of being the politest nation in the world, and this anecdote alone may suffice to vindicate their title to the distinction. quite familiar to me, but there was a semblance and character in them, that were strongly witten upon my mind, and in such a manner, that they could never be effaced from the soul that is capable of friendship. The eyes had lost their vivacity, and an immovable seriousness pervaded the once sprightly features of Volatile.-"I am but a shadow" said he. "I was barmless in my life, and above all iden you have nothing to fear from me now." A gentleman of dignified appearance was walking up the street; "do you know him asked V- not allowing me to enquire why he had "burst the cerements" of visit this scene of vicissitude. I answered, "no." his humble grave, and left his "narrow cell" to re “I do," said Vibe is an eminent trades man"-I observed that he did not move as he passed-he replied, "that his most intimate friends had undergone a change that could not exist in the when on earth could not recognize him, now that he traces of mortality. Were it otherwise," continued he, "there is an invincible reserve about that genand those exchanges of civility so necessary and intleman, which makes him accessible only to a few; dispensable to society, are sometimes noticed in a inferior in fortune, and the proud of heart cannot manner not congenial to the respect offered by an repeat the ceremony. However, his integrity is of that high character, that commands the respect of all orders of men." I observed, "that his excessive reserve might arise from the consciousness of so virtuous and lofty a reputation." V assented in part-I enquired if he were "still in trade”—be replied, "yes, and had considerable property in this neighbourhood, and was much esteemed by his servants"-" such a man,' said I, "must be very humanity can admit of, he is familiar with few, but happy"-" as much so, "rejoined Vhis friends are many; when such men," continued he," are appointed to offices of trust, and to conduct public business, envy is silent, and foul suspicion shrinks into its darkest recesses. Nevertheless, in a free country, democracy is never satisfied -we were now interrupted by some carts that were passing at the bottom of King-street, which occasioned a little inconvenience to a portly lady and her two daughters." Volatile," I exclaimed, "where is thy gallantry now? à fairer opportunity never offered even to 'Raleigh himself" but he was motionless, and with the best grace I could, I picked up her parasol, which was in danger of being crushed by the wheel-"That was tolerably done," said V, after I had restored it, and received the blushing compliments of the ladies-"I must now leave you," said he, "but shall be with you again ere long."-My eye followed the unassuming form up Ridgefield, where it disappeared, as if entering one of the offices there. À. A. WANDERINGS IN JUNE. The season now is all delight, And Summer's pleasures, at their height, While waking doves betake to flight While Nature's locks are wet with night,— Fast fade the vapours cool and grey; The red sun waxes strong, How strange a scene has come to pass But dew-drops fall on open'd leaves The artless daisies' smiling face My wanderings fiud no more; The king-cups that supplied their place, The open flower, the loaded bough, To think of summers yet to come, To think a weed is yet to bloom The misty clouds of purple hue Are fading from the And ruddy streaks, which morning drew, The sun has call'd the bees abroad, Wet with the early hour, By toiling for the honey'd load Ere dews forsake the flower. O'er yonder hill, a dusty rout Wakes solitude from sleep; Shepherds have wattled pens about, To shear their bleating sheep : Less pleasing is the public way, Traced with awaken'd toil; And sweet are woods shut out from day, The woodbines, fresh with morning hours, The ivy spreading darksome bowers, Left there, as when a boy, to lie Their silence answers me. While pride desires tumultuous joys, The whispering voice of woods and streams How sweet the fanning breeze is felt, From distant sheep and cows! The rapture reigning there. To me how sweet the whispering winds, To find the peace which freedom finds, Health breathes in every wind. Now cool, the wood my wanderings shrouds, 'Neath arbours Nature weaves, Shut up from viewing fields and clouds, The eye, no longer left to range, Yet Nature's works nonamed and strange, Things small as dust, of every dye, And flowers these darksome woodlands rear, My path now gleams with fairer light, A heath now bolts upon the sight, I love the heath, though 'mid the brakes Yet where the ground is nibbled bare I often fearless loiter there, Far from the stretch of planted groves, Whose blossoms steal the summer's breath, Here threat'ning ploughs have tried in vain Yon slope, already sown with grain, The wild weeds choak the straggling ears, The blue-cap there in bloom appears, And poppies, lively red. And now my footsteps sidle round The gently sloping hill,. And faulter now o'er marsby ground; A wounded hand to mourn. What wonders strike my idle gaze, As near the pond I stand! All forms and sizes swimming there, Now rising ground attempts again Nor trembles 'neath the tread. On this side, ash or oak embowers; Which feebly purls its rippling moans With summer draining dry; And struttles, as I step the stones, Can scarcely struggle by. Now soon shall end these musing dreams The eye that dwelt on woods and streams I love to visit Spring's young blooms I love to meet the Autumn winds JOHN CLARE. VOLATILE'S PORT-FOLIO. CHAPTER I. I have two reasons why I will not tell you how I came by this Port-folio. First-because you would not believe me, and Then you are a provoking fellow :-how do I know that the Port-folio's genuine :-I dare say it's not :I've no proof that it is :— I can't tell whether I should, like it. To be sure, you should. But perhaps it's not Volatile's :-it may be all a take-in: you are anonymous, and all about it is mystery. True, Miss! As I said this, I pressed gently together the palms of my extended hands; slowly elevated myself to the tip-toe-and quietly dropping my eye-lids in the most beautiful correspondence with the rest of my expression-I stood-such a sweet picture of confounded innocence.-True, Miss, said I, calmly recovering my former position, and opening wide my large black eyes-the rays of light darting suddenly upon her's,-shot into her heart the fullest conviction of my sincerity Did I say my eyes were large and black? I could see that she was convinced-but a woman will never acknowledge herself satisfied while any thing like a secret remains. Your's is a silk un; it wont do at all. What does one want a white pocket ankercher for at a tragedy-play! why, what for but to hold up to one's eyes like every body else, to be sure. Joseph looked round again, and winked. there's a good lad. Come go, Not I; said the obedient son, venturing a peremp tory refusal. But I insists on your going, said the mother: how dares you dispute what I says; go this instant. A muttering wrangle now took place between authority and resistance, which was terminated by the drawing up of the curtain, and a proposal on the part of the son, that his mother and sister should have for the evening a common convenience in the handkerchief of the latter. O, ay! Riar, I never thought of that-we can use your's in kales: and when I've the ankercher you shall have the spy-glass; that shall be it :--and then we shall both be genteel, Good lorjus! what's that? said the matron, as the ghost stalked over the scene, Sir, what's that?' The ghost, madam. What is the play-house awnted? said she. I never heard of it before, and I've been here many a time. It only happens on particular occasions, said I, and very likely you were never present at one before. 'I hope it won't come again,' groaned she. The ghost however, contrary to the hopes of the Trust me, chary one,—said I, pressing my hand lady, shortly reappeared on the stage, and it was with some difficulty that I succeeded in convincing her that she need not apprehend any injury from the spectre, as, though it had often appeared on the stage, it had never been known to commit any mischief, and was, indeed, perfectly harmless. against my coat, just over the place where my heart might be supposed to reside-a large quantity of wadding which the tailor had crammed into the lapelle, intercepted the pulsation [What a load of this sort Macbeth must have carried-it is one among innumerable proofs how fashions come round again—when he cried out to the Apothecary "Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart." It is not so bad now a days. Perhaps Macbeth wore the dove-breast as a disguise.] and with a solemn inclination of my headwhich bent my well starched cloth right across the middle and totally discomposed its propriety-as much as to say But how frightened all those people is: argued she, and one of 'em's drawn bis sword too; I wish it was gone again. Who's that gentleman in black-will you lend me your bill, Sir, a minute. handed her the bill. That is Hamlet, said I, pointing to his name as I Hamlet! dear o' me, how sorrowful he looks; what's the matter with him, Sir. Aye my mother, said the daughter, I see how it is now: Joe! you know that about Hamlet and the I could not resist so much polite importunity. Take two or three more, Sir, you need not be afraid of robbing us, we've more than we shall suck to-night. Here, Joe: said she, taking three, fast together, from the paper, and offering them to her son-who looked rather suspiciously at the coherent mass.I've not had 'em in my mouth, it's only with getting warm on my knees that they stick together i thissy. O Lord, here's the ghost again; see how that gentleman's hair stands up: is'nt he afraid, Sir.. He appears so, madam, but without any real occasion. I should not like to be so near a ghost, should you, Sir. 'Not much, madam;' and again the old lady's attention was earnestly directed to the play: the daughter had scarcely ever withdrawn her eyes from the stage, and seemed wonderfully engrossed in observing its action through the glass. The young gentleman was reclining with the point of his left elbow on the higher bench of the box, and with the right-hand turning about an ash-plant, the head of which he held in his mouth. Good lauk, Sir, Hamlet's gone mad: what'll be done think you; can they cure him: dear o' me, how wild the poor gentleman talks: Hearken, Riar, that's what I was telling you yesterday, no longer since, not to walk in the sun; I said it would spoil your skin, and so you hear. Oh dear! it's quite pitiful to see. that poor gentleman, how mad he is-I can hardly tell any thing that he's talking about. all Why ar'nt these the players; I thought they was the time-what is these, Sir, that we've been looking at, they seemed like as players. The players are coming now, madam. What them, why, how shabby; they are just like those we saw at th' Minur wonst, arn't they Riar? Did you ever go to the Minur Theaytre, Sir; Riar and that was of her being killed, only it was an oaxme went to see Madam Sackwi; what a hawfull thing but I said I'd never go no more, they were such a poor set of players, and there was so many low lived people went. My polished neighbour once more turned to the performance, and telling Riar that she would have 'a reluctant fingers, and began to manœuvre it herself. kale with the spy-glass,' took it from the daughter's Hamlet now entered with the celebrated soliloquy commencing To be, or not to be'-and the young began to exhibit her powers of recitation and memory by repeating it along with the performer, in a very audible whisper. Upon my honour, my dear, I would not deceive you. Ghost in Speaker, now see if it does not come in the lady, relieved from the assiduous exercise of the glass, Which in fact was exactly what I meant.You tell me so; said she, quizzingly, turning up the corner of her eye at the inconvenience I had sustained, and with a smile of the most unutterable mer riment at the attempt I was making to restore it-by compression of the extreme points of the line of incurvity, so as to bring back the centre within the power of the elastic action-but in vain. You tell me so ;——— My pretty fellow! Oh dear! that's very paythetick, said the old lady, at the recital of the first soliloquy: Riar, do lend me the ankercher: no, never mind, 1 don't see any body else with one. O! yes, there's a lady there, give it me: O, it's a sublime piece, said she, when she had finished; I once got it off by heart for a task to say off. at the breaking up-that pangs of despised love, is ing to her mother, but looking sidelong at me. very tender don't you think so,said she, speak The compliment was in the eye, and the smile inspiring a sob, which nearly drained the theatre of, she ought not to address a strange gentleman without The play, Madam, is ‘HAMLET.' Only to think, Riar, it's a tragedy-play, and my pocket ankercher's as dirty:-Joe, my love, go run home, the man'll perhaps let you out again, and fetch me a clean white ankercher; ask Susan to find it you; they're in one of the top-drawers in the little set, in the right hand side corner; tell her to mind and not disturb the lace-cap, and them there flowers that lies at the top make haste. The young gentleman, who was despatched with these specific directions, seemed not exactly to relish the commission he was employed in-he looked round at me, conscious that I had overheard what had passed, and with a titter of most refined contempt for his mother's vulgarity, proceeded to expostulate on her command. O! that'll do very well; nobody'll see it, or if they do what matter-here I'll lend you mine-it's quite clean. She took the handkerchief from her daughter, and, air, was beginning to apply it, with a variety of graceful contortions, to her eyes, when, casting another look at the object of her imitation, she exclaimed O, no! she's only blowing her nose;' and passed the handkerchief again to Maria. Now, Riar, I'll have a peep through the spy-glass; obliged to put my finger over my eye when I look O! you need not wink, mother, at all: keep both Ay! but then, somehow, I always look out at that After paying the strictest attention to the scene for You'll find 'em very nice, Sir, for warming the inside, said she, do have one or two-you cannot think how good they are for keeping off the bellyache as often comes at these here sort of places. Try one, Sir, do. The girl was about sixteen, and seemed to bave just sufficient knowledge of propriety to tell her that an introduction: and yet it was evident that she wanted to fall into conversation. I was not in the humour to encourage her by entering into the discussion, or I have no doubt that I should have found her critically conversant with all the pieces in the Speaker, and wonderfully alive to their beauties. O dear! here's the berring, said the old lady, who had for a long while ceased her remarks, excepting an occasional exclamation when any thing particularly excited her attention: such as the murder of Polonius -Ophelia's madness, and the Grave-digging. Here's the berring, do Riar, give me the ankercher; I suppose, Sir, it's the end now isn't it-it's a handsomish coffin: oh dear! that mad fellow's jumping into the hole: he'll break it—a pause, Aye! there's that funny chap, Browne;-how queer he acts awlis, does'nt he, Sir:another pause. Aye, that is nice; what are they going to do now, Sir-those swords is'nt sharp, is they, Sir:- Bless me; what's matter with that lady! its like a stroke : -Oh! dear that mad Hamlet's killed the King-player; aye dear, they're all dying-but it's only sham, Sir, is it;-I hope none of um's been hurt. I'm always fearful of swords:-are you going, Sir:well, I wish you good bye! June, 1819. MM. V. |