The Sun.
London, England, 1834-07-23 00:00:00

PUTNEY REGATTA.

The contest for the numerous prizes given by the Ladies and
Gentlemen of Putney and Fulham takes place this day. It is a
double-scull wager; and from tke known goodness of some of the
six Cobbs who are t o row in it there can be no doubt that it will
prove a pretty contest.

OARS WAGER.
The patrons of the River sports are anxious to effect a match
between Campbell and Noulton against Williams and Godfrey,
from Westminster to Putney, but the backers of the men have been
some time disputing the terms, nor is it certain that an arrangement
will be made satisfactorily. Campbell and his partner prefer sculls,
and the opposing pair fancy oars, and in addition require odds in the
stakes. If it can be got up it will afford a rich treat ; but we think
that Godfrey's recent defeat and resignation in the Randan Wager
have put him considerably in the shade.

HAPPINESS.—it would form perhaps one of the
most amusing, if not the most instructive chapter in poetic
history, to compare the 'various opinions expressed by the in-
spired respecting happiness. He who dwells in a lonely valley
believes happiness resides in the crowded city among company
and books ; while he who sings amid the rattle of other men's
chariot-wheels, and the smoke of ten thousand chimneys, fixes
the abode of happiness by the side of some purling brook—
beside a green hill, where the wind is ever fragrant, and the
voice of nature alone is heard. The high-born bard, sick of
the hollow courtesies of polished society, sighs for pastoral
solitudes, where flowers never fade, and flocks never stray,
and beauty is never out of blossom : the shepherd bard, on the
other hand, who has to wander over moors and mountains,
half choked in winter with drifting snow, and half scorched in
summer with burning suns—who has to smear and clip his
flocks, as well as keep them from the fox, and save them, too,
from smothering in a snow wreath, envies the opulent, and
longs to be a lord. There was some sense in the remark of a
Scotchman, who, in reading the saying of Solomon, "Snow
is beautiful in its season," exclaimed, " Ay, nae doubt it was
beautiful to you, sitting with rich wines and the lasses o' Jeru-
salem aside you : but had ye been a poor stane-mason, ye
would hae said no such thing."—Cunninghain's Edition of
Burns.

MUMMERIES OF PAST AGES.—About a mile
from the town they overtook a company of beggars, strangely
attired. On their near approach, one of the group, who car-
ried a small tree, laden with red fruit, planted it in the middle
of the road, and sat down beside it. A little urchin, dressed
to resemble a crododile or serpent, clung to the tree by his
legs and one arm, at the same time a girl with long loose hair
approached • this interesting figure. An old man in black,
with a wig and beard of moss, stood aloof at a short distance,
and by his side a boy in white, bearing a sword. When these
vagabond actors considered the two travellers near enough to
witness their manoeuvres, the little wretch, who played the
part of devil, began to chaunt, or rather squall, a kind of
song. The page and his companion at once perceived that
this expedition was intended to represent the history of the
seduction of Eve by the serpent. The monk in passing asked
the old man if he belonged to the party, and what character
he supported in the mystery. The miserable being replied
calmly that he was " God the Father," and that, if they
would stay a few minutes, they should see him, and his little
sword-bearer, who was " Michael the Archangel," play their
parts. The page threw a groat into the midst of the poor
wanderers, and laughed long and heartily at the scramble
which ensued of these sacred personages to possess them-
selves of his bounty. Adam and Eve, Devil and Angel, were
all rolling in the dust together, while the tree of knowledge,
with its tempting fruit, fell into an adjoining ditch. Such
were the sacrilegious mummeries of past ages.--May „pair,
Four Centuries ago.