The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1843-08-15 00:00:00

Eittraturr.

P 0 E 'r it Y .

THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.

(From Poems and Ballads of Schiller, translated by Sir E. L
Bulever, i,t Blackwof,d's Magazine.)

She comes. she comes—the Borthen of the Deeps!
Brmeath her wails the Universal Sea!
With clanking chains and a new God, she sweeps,
And with a thousand thunders, unto thee !
The ocean•castles and the floating hosts—
Ne'er on their like, looted the wild waters ! —Well
May man the monster name "
O'er shudd'ring waves she gAthens to thy coasts !
The horror that she spreads can claim
Just title to her haughty ❑ame.
The trembling Neptune quails
Under the silent and majestic forms ;
The Doom of Worlds in those dark sails;—
Near and more near they sweep ! and slumber all the Storms

Before thee the array,
Blest island, Empress of the Sea!
The sea-born squadrons threaten thee,
And thy great heart. BRITANNIA
Woe to thy people. of their freedom proud—
She rests, a thunder heavy in its cloud !
Who, to thy hand the orb and sceptre gave,
That thou should'st be the sovereign of the nations ?
To tyrant kings thou wert thyself the slave,
Till Freedom dug from Law its deep foundations;
The mighty CHART thy citizens made kings,
And kings to citizens sublimely bow'd!
And thou thyself, upon thy realm of water,
East thou not render'd millions up to slaughter,
When thy ships brought upon their sailing wings
The sceptre—and the shroud
What should'st thou thank ?-31u,b, Earth, to hear and feel
What should'st thou than ? Thy genius and thy steel.
Behold the hid, en and the giant fires
Behold thy glory trembling to its fall !
Thy coming doom the round earth shall appall,
And all the hearts of freemen beat for thee,
And all free souls their fate in thine foresee—
Theirs is thy glory's fall !
One look below the Almighty gave,
Where stream'd the lion.fiags of thy proud foe.;
And near and wider yawn'd the horrent grave.
'° And who,"saith he," shall lay mine England low—
The stem that blooms with hero-deeds—
The rock when man from wro g a refuge needs—
The stronghold wilc!re the tyrant comes in vain?
Who shall hid England vanish from the main?
Ne'er he this oul. Eden freedom knew,
Man's stout defence from Power, to Fate consign'd."
God the Almighty blew,
And the Armada went to every wind !

THE WORIL VOICE.

BY MISS SKELTON.

There came a nice from a distant land, with a sad lamenting

tone—
It told of war, and- chains, and death, power lost, and glory

gone;
A voice of pain, despair, and woe, a wild and mournful cry—
" Oh, england ! mother ! weep for us, a bitter death we die!

" Wear), and wounded, faint and few, we fight, and fight in

vain ;
We die, and leave our bones to strew this desert's icy plain,
And to thee the memory of our blood. and our distant tomb to be
An altar and a fitting shrine for a vengeance worthy thee."

And England heard that woful voice, and bow'd her queenly
bead,
AtAi there went a wail round her sacred shores, a mourning for
the dead ;
For many a happy heart was chill'd. and many a hope laid low,
And many a warm affection sleeps with them beneath the snow.

And England wept—well may she weep—yet doth she weep in
vain ;
Not all her tears, her blood, her wealth, can bring back life
again,
Or change that note of utter grief, or hush thafvoice of shame,
Which tells of chains and bitter death, defeat and tarnish'd
fame.

There came a voice from a distant land, a wild and mournfn
cry—
" Oh, England! mother! weep for us, a bitter death we die !
And we leave to thee our de ,ert tomb, a fitting shrine to be
For a vengeance meet for such fate as ours, a vengeance worthy
thee!

"Oh, England! mourn thy fallen sons; oh ! gallant hearts and
brave,
Mourn hearts as gallant and as true—mourn, for ye could-not
save ;
And let their distant, desert tomb, a deathless altar be
To vengeanee worthy wrongs like theirs, to vengeance worthy
ye

HINTS FOR PEDESTRIANS, PRACTICAL
AND ;MEDICAL.

(From an unpublished Manuscript, by a Physician of

Liverpool.)

By MEDICI:TS.

, (CONTINUF.L. PROM OUR LAST.)

45. If you have a great liking for ease, you will not
have your coat made with any fashionable tightness, but
quite loose, particularly in the arms. By having it to
button very easy in ordinary, it just fastens up comfor-
tably when the pockets are stowed away. The button
loop is a good plan : the coat does not cut so soon in the
arm-holes, and it.keeps the skirts down in walitig-
giek,a:Prasiteti;t3T-it tslslittiin up tight across
the chest and up to the neck, for rough weather, inde-
pendent of the coat: it can be buttoned or thrown
back in fine weather.
47. The cravat may be taken off with comparative im-
punity whilst in the act of walking, but it should be re-
adjusted on stopping ; owing to this simple rule being dis-
regarded, many have had to thank themselves for sore
throats, which unpleasant companions might have been
kept at a respectable distance by a little exercise of
common reflection.
48. With regard to pantaloons, &c. Col. Shaw says—
" Have two pair of trousers, of dark gambaroon. As it
is of consequence to walk cool, if possible march without
drawers, but he sure to put them on at the end of the
journey • one pair is enough ; they can be washed and
dried whilst you are in bed."
" The best gaiters to wear are those used by the French
when shooting. They are made of the strongest, softest
leather, with straps to tighten if necessary . They should
be as high as the knee, and buckled over the trousers,
so that however dirty the roads may be, on throwing them

off, you find your trousers quite clean and dry."
49. The best shirts are those made of calico or long
cloth, as it is called— linen bar now discarded, partly on
account of the economy of the former, but chiefly because
after enercise has heated the body, the linen strikes cold
to the surface : the adoption of calico does half away
with the necessity for flannel or framework singlets, owing
to its greater warmth, a fact resulting from the supe-
rior non-conducting power of this calico (cotton). " As
to shirts, have one in the knapsack, and a very long night-
shirt, made of the finest and lightest cotton, which will
be found of the greatest benefit, when you are not sure
of the cleanliness of the bed. If your trousers are wide,
you can wear it at the end of a day's journey. Of course
a fresh flannel under-vest must always be in the knap-
sack," says the above authority.
50. Caps are much worn by pedestrians, and some
find them lighter and more suitable than hats in several
respects ; but Col. Shaw gives a good reason why hats
are preferable, viz., because you can carry things in the
hollow of a hat. By all means avoid a waterproofed
cap. Waterproof hats, as they are called, do ventilate,
or you may perforate them with pin-holes for this pur-
pose. Hats are cooler, because the?' don't sit so close
to the head.
51. " As to other requisites, the first to be provided
is a good knapsack," says Col. Shaw, " of the best oil
skin. It is to be had in all the military store shops in
London. Care should be had to have the straps of the
best patent leather, and a degree broader than usual.
The proper breadth for ease is the regulation' strap for
the Guards' knapsack. They should be so long that you
could use them in the foreign manner if you chose. By
this I mean that, in the foreign knapsack, the fixture
from which the shoulder-straps play is placed in the
centre of the knapsack, while the English fixtures are
placed on the points of the shoulders, just in a line with
the shoulder-straps ; so that the whole weight of the
knapsack is on the upper part of the arms, instead of
being divided over the back. In the French manner
the knapsack sticks closer to the back, consequently you
do not feel its weight so oppressive."
Improvements are daily occurring in everything, and
of course we find fresh plans even for carrying and
constructing knapsacks. However, one point might be
certainly adopted with advantage, viz., the making of
the knapsack so as that wet clothes, stockings, itzc., can
be left outside to dry on the journey, instead of being put
inside along with the dry things. " In Germany," a
continental student and ex-militaire remarks, " the stu-
dents in the time of vacation are constantly, with their
knapsacks on their shoulders, visiting distant countries,
and often roam on foot as far as Italy ; and it is a plea-
sure to see the rubicund youths walking the roads singing,
laughing, and smoking."
52. Next, a cloak, for protection in wet weather, re-
quires a word or two. Col. Shaw's advice runs on from
the wallet thus :—" When provided with a knapsack,
get a wide cloak (so wide as to go over the knapsack) of
the very best oil-silk, long enough to reach to the middle
of the thigh ; likewise an oil-skin for the hat. The oil-
skin cloak can be used either for sitting or laying on the
ground." There is a very light and portable article of
this kind imported lately from France : it is termed,
from these qualifications, the " Zephyr " cloak : it is
composed of some very fine material, with a very thin
layer of caoutchouc between : the weight of a cloak runs
about 20 oz. Our remarks on the prejudicial effects of
waterproof garments in general, seems to be here con-
flicting with Col. Shaw's advice. We can only qualify
our own statement by admitting that a light cloak of oil
silk or india-rubber cloth, of the dimensions of a cape
rather than. of a full-grown cloak, makes this difference,
that it does not stick to the figure like a coat, and so
allows of ventilation being carried on underneath, and
still more so when worn over the knapsack, a body of
air being always preserved about the shoulders: again,
its protection as a sitting cushion is manifest and unob-
jectionable. There is a light summer walking surtout,
which would turn a gentle shower sutliciently—the
" D'Orsay " build. The French blouse coats are rather

a protection against dust than wet : for this purpose they
are well adapted, and, from their ch. apness, accessible
to all. It appears to us possible that, in the march of
improvement, the pedestrian may be so far favoured as
to have some plan introduced, t'le result of some inge-
nious artisan, whereby a small silk waterproofed cape,
just large enough to cover the shoulders and down to the
elbows, may be arranged so as to be worn as a cape or
as an umbrella, being attachable by a clasp or spring
and stretcher to his walking cane. This brings us to
the accompaniment
53. Of a walking-stick or cane, which deserves our
notice, or people would not prove so wedded to them.
It is not a mere fancy ; there is a real utility in having
one, not only as a weapon of self-defence against all
manner of attacks from men and animals, but, as a
regulator of the locomotive vibrations of the body and
limbs, it does a real service, as also by taking off some
of the weight of the body from the lower limbs, and
taxing the upper extremity, which grasps the stick.
Davis say—" The use of a stick may serve partially,
and only partially, to combine the action of the upper
limbs in the exercise of walking." Those who are
used to much writing, or wish to preserve their right
hand in working trim for using the artistical pencil, &c.,
would avoid, by using a stick that swelling of the hand
which general exercise always produces. The handle
of the stick should be at a right angle with the shaft, and
not a mere knob or steam-turned bend. A good hazel,
with the handle worked out of the root, comes up nearest
to the mark for durability, lightness, general service,
and economy. A small brass ferril, tightly fitted on,
saves the wear and tear. A stick should not be too tall.
We are indebted to a friend of the quill for these useful
suggestions on the practice of the stick. We advise the
selection of a good light cane in preference to a heavy
walking-stick. A cane of a large calibre (one of the
Malaccas is the best, though expensive) will give you
all the support you can want towards the end of the
day, not always unwelcome, whilst from its lightness,
through the whole day, it will do all but carry itself—a
companion never leaning too heavy on your arm. The
last make of umbrellas appears very inviting to use, as
they are very little heavier than a stick, the ribs being
made of fine-drawn steel. Of the comfort of an um-
brella in a soaking wet, we need not speak, nor of their
comparative inutility in a high wind, except you mean
to try the " aerial principle" of flight. Every one has
a predilection for or against a thing in matters of taste
and comfort : some never go without one, some never use
one by any chance. We can only bow our head and say,
"de gustibus non disputandunz est." However, there is
one point touching the steel ribs to umbrellas, viz., that
they are more likely to attract lightning than whalebone,
especially if any part of the steel has been uncovered
from the varnish, or has got rubbed bright, as at the
points.
54. We can hardly leave off without equipping our
knight-errant with a pair of gloves, though he does not
require the " spur" ; and of gloves there is one kind far
before all other for walking, and for weather fair or wet,
hot or cold : it is the " Woodstock," or doe-skin—a
glove that will wash and wear better than any (ab-
sorbing perspiration), and keep the hands from suffering
by the weather-changes. Belts are used by some. Par-
ties are better without, unless corpulent.

CHAPTER V.

THR START-FIRST DAY'S DOINGS AND UNDOINGS.

55. saving all matters arranged, the toggery all
donned, the knapsack fairly strapped on, we should say,
select in the next place some suitable companion of con-
genial feelings and cheerful humour : for much of the
pleasure of a tour depends on this having of company,
even if only a dog to whistle to. " The influences of
agreeable conversation, in alleviating the toilsomeness
of travel, have been pleasantly depicted by Shakspeare :
"These high, wild hills, and rough, uneven ways,
Draw out oar miles, and make them wearisome;
Add yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.'
Richard 11., Act ii., sc. 3.
Indeed, every one knows that the Irish bull, that a
journey of ten miles is reduced to five a-piece when
undertaken with a companion, is founded in- truth and
nature. It may be that the cultivation of the mind, and
the improvement of the taste, might have enabled the
traveller to have found, at least in part, that companion-
ship he desired in the birds,•beasts, plants, trees, brooks,
hills, and stones, he encountered in his excursion ; but
still the force of the observation remains the same, that
the most pleasing and unwearying efforts demand an
impulsion from the mind as well as from the mere bodily
powers." "
An additional reason for seeking cheerful companions
is, that the mind is unbent from intense thought or
anxious care by the presence of others and their extem-
poraneous converse, when, if left alone to yourself, it
might prove next to impracticable to unshackle the
trammelled habits of intense application ; and unless
such he accomplished, the chief end of the excursion is
missed : the mind must be at ease, to allow the body
to reap the benefit of its exertions: Davis observes
most justly,. in his interesting Manual, p. 355,--" As
we have- seen that, for an agreeable and beneficial
large .nurrifriir The-gaits and organs of the body, so
there should be a like harmony of excitation to call this
action forth.- The will, the great stimulant of muscular
contraction, must direct, its efforts with singleness of
purpose to the acting limbs."

- 56. The allotting of the amount of exercise each day
is, for the commencement of such a tour, and to the
unaccustomed, of the greatest consequence ; and we
must proceed to shew why it is so, in order that this
condition, absolutely essential to the pleasure and bene-
fit of the pedestrian excursion, may be cautiously attired.
People may be accustomed to walk about all day in town,
and yet find a day's walk in the country very different;
and, from their not rightly estimating this experience,
may be very apt to overdo themselves at starting, and
so get fatigued with the new and exhilarating demands
upon their animal frame and spirits : therefore it would
be well to limit their first and even second day's work
to something under what they might possibly accomplish
at a great stretch ; for, if the first day become a toil
instead of a pleasure, the spirits be gin to flag, and a
listlessness as to the objects undertaken steals over the
mind, owing to fatigue. Few minds man then, under the
pressure and lassitude caused by the first day's forcad
march, muster np courage sufficient to throw themselves
out of bed early, to begin with spirit and alacrity the
second day. Davis- remarks (p. 323) that " all exer-
cises should be accurately apportioned to the age,
strength, and previous habits of the individual. Where
this rule is neglected, exercise becomes an evil, and
that of serious magnitude." And further on, alluding to
undue exertion of any powers, whereby their growth and
development suffers in the young—" A state of weariness
comes on, that sleep refuses to alleviate. Such a call
is made upon the digestive organs and the nervous sys-
tem, for velocity of action, that these parts are first to
fail ; and fever, accompanied with serious digestive dis-
order, ensues. • • Under an extraordinary stimulus,
the task may possibly be performed; but the conse-
quences are disagreeable and prejudicial. Excessive
fatigue takes the place of that moderate tiredness which
conduces to sleep, and the balmy soother of wearied
nature refuses to do her office ; a painful restlessness,
attended with fever, and, in extreme cases, with deli-
rium, distresses the frame ; and when at length slum-
bers steal over the troubled system, they are not fol-
lowed with any commensurate degree of refreshment."
Dr. Combe relates a very striking instance of the folly
of over-exertion of this kind. Exercise pushed, then,
to the point of inducing fatigue, so as to render the
muscles sore and trembling from over-strained efforts,
remaining stiff and sore after a night's disturbed repose,,
is not the way to derive either benefit or pleasure from
a country tour. On an average, we should say, that,
for those who can accomplish by effort some 20 miles
for a day's walk, a dozen or 15 is the outside they
should lay out for the first day's exercise ; then, by
getting a refreshing night's rest, they will have the power
and disposition to walk 20 miles on the next day, and
perhaps 25 on the third, and increase a little each day as
they feel equal to do so : thus they will adopt the safest
way to secure all the beneficial and agreeable results of
a pedestrian journey. Experience will probably have
already convinced some of our readers that our advice,
resulting from the same instructive source, is not to be
despised, even by comparatively old hands, on com-
mencing a tour after a period of sedentary pursuits and
comparative bodily inactivity : though there may be
some buoyant spirits who feel as if they had done no-
thing unless they came in like a horse after a day's
hunting, tired and jaded with a glorious run, (in exci-
ting companionship of the baying hound and bugle note,)
forgetting most probably, as such highflyers generally
do, that the hunter gets the next day for recruiting re-
pose; so that, in fact, he only runs generally three or
four days out of the week. This reflection will be suf-
ficient to moderate, we hope, the zeal of those freshmen
who seem not yet to have learnt that discretion is the
better part of valorous enterprise ! We are certain that
many a green tourist gets dispirited, if not almost dis-
gusted, with what he pays too dear for in the purchase
of, whereas the fault lies entirely with the folly of his
own extravagant hid, and not in the article. This re-
mark applies not only to this little episode of our com-
mon life, but to that ordinary routine of our course, as
well, which—because we pursue with too absorbing an
aim, too avaricious a grasp—palls, wearies, and disgusts.
What saith the sage Armstrong (page 36 of his valuable
poem on health) in reference to overwrought exertion P
" For know, whate'er
Beyond its natural fervour harries on
The sanguine tide ; whether the frequent bowl,
High-seasoned fare, or exercise to toil
Protracted; spurs to its last stage tired life,
And sows the temples with untimely snow."
57. Early rising is at all times so unquestionable a
good habit, and so conducive to mental and bodily vi-
gour, that few wordS need be added to enforce the car-
rying out of this practice, as well on the starting as
on all succeeding days ; the pure freshness of the air
penetrating like a cordial to the inmost recesses of our
nature, fulfilling body and mind with the glow of con-

* Davis' Manual, p. 354.

scions and joyous existence, until a sensation of almost
bursting life chases the blood through its several chan-
nels with the bounding flow of healthful activity—an
enjoyment the sluggard never realizes, even in the all-
capable range of his snoring ideal life. A few miles
stepped out before breaking the fast will make light
work of the rest of the day's labours ; and a keen appe-
tite acquired for breakfast is of itself no mean recom-
mendation—indeed, of such preponderating value is this
motive alone with many, that did it co-exist with no
other, it would raise them from their couch, and cause
them to sally forth early. We need scarcely stop to
remark, besides all just stated, that, as far as the search
of the picturesque goes, no time equals the morning for
beauty and sharpness of outline, whether the objects be
mountain peak or mirrored lake : all nature around
wears a youthful brow, and, if the sun shines out, then,
in the flowing language of Shelley's translation of a
hymn in Faust--

" The world's unwithered countenance
Is bright as on creation's day."
An old Latin doggrel has presumed even to fix the hour
for rising, in order, we suppose, that, by adopting the
benevolent suggestion of a standard hour, mankind may
derive the advantage of imitating the regulated visits of
Aurora's early beams :

" Surge (pinta,
Praude Dona,
Coena quintA,
Dormi
Nec est morti
Vita prona."

Which, being rendered into English, will run thus,
making allowance for our modern confusion of meal
times :

Rise at five who has the power;
Breakfast and lunch at nine's good hour;
Dine atfive's revolving magic;
So shall death by sickness tragic,
Who by nine sleeps if he can,
Ne'er cut short life's little span.
Thus, then, we have got our chart to steer by ; and,
though an adage of olden time, it will hold good now-a-
days—at all events, in country rambles and health-
seeking tours. We have the hour, then, laid down,
though the cloth wants laying for-
-58. Breakfast; and, moreover, something to garnish
it with, suitable for the devastations of a hungry pedes-
trian. We can't exactly produce the materials, but
we can suggest what we have found, from experience,
the most hunger-proof amongst provisions--that is, in-
stead of tea or coffee, a good jug of well-made cocoa or
chocolate. There is something substantial in it : the
stomach takes some time to discuss its endless resources
of liquid nutriment. If to such a host in itself, you
append plenty of bread and butter, and an assortment
of fish, flesh, or fowl, or eggs, you cannot starve though
you wait till afternoon for your next substantial meal,
viz., dinner. Tea is all very well in a drawing-room ;
or when pursuing literary avocations,. a light meal is
required, in order to let the brain have more opportunity
for concentrated thought ; but when at ploughman-like
labours, the nearer you come to his solid suhsistences the
better. We fancy tea will come in with a better grace
towards the fag end of the day, say after sinner, as a
diluent of aromatic and grateful nature.
In C. Croker's Legends we find, and cannot help
extracting, the following rich and appropriate passage:
" A fine day anywhere is a fine thing; but a fine day
at Killarney is the finest of all possible things. Only
see how clear the mountain looks, with but one little
silvery cloud sleeping in the hollow of the Devil's
Punchbowl, the broad face of the sun smiling on it, as
if he was just going to say, You brat of a cloud, I'll
swallow you up in a twinkling !' It would be a pity to
lose a moment—' Hallo,. Gorham ! breakfast, break-
fast, all in a hurry, if you please ; tea, coffee, bread,
butter, toast, eggs, ham, honey, salmon, all very good
—is everything ready, Gorham ?" Yes, sare."'

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

ARCHBISHOP CRANMER NO PERSECUTOR.

From the Works of Roger hittchinson, edited by the

Parker Society.)

Much undeserved odium has been cast upon Archbishop
Cranmer in connexion with this case of Joan &cher, in
consequence of an erroneous statement of Foxe the mar-
tyrologist, respecting the importunity with which he urged,
if not forced, the young king into the signature of the
death.warrant upon which she suffered. All classes of
objectors to the Reformation have availed themselves of
this presumed fact, to magnify the clemency of the king
by way of contrast to the primate's " importunity for
blood. 4 Cranmer's advocates have apparently felt this
passage in his-life to be one extremely difficult, if not
incapable, of defence. They have mostly contented them-
selves with alleging that it was contrary to the general
tenour of his life, and with bringing forward the entry in
the privy-council-book to prove that he was not present
when her fate was finally determined, and may therefore
be presumed to have exhibited but little of the eager spi-
rit of a persecutor. The last writer of the history- of the
Reformation has gone a little farther, and•has ventured
to impugn the authority of this particular passagein Foxe,
on the ground of- the- silence not merely of the 'king's
journal, but also of the Romanist libellers of the primate,
triVnliar AkgrOY4l2 iAteedifenauNiakiiteitacirGlikaT
presents, the entry in his journal would have been differ-
ent from the one we find there ++ ; whilst, if such an in-
terview had really taken place, Sanders, and other writers
of that class, would have been delighted to avail them-
selves of it against Cranmer; but it is unfortunate that
Cranmer's defenders have not produced the whole entry
in the privy-council book, instead of merely referring to
it, in proof of the single fact of Cranmer's absence. Had
that been done, it would long ago have occurred to some
one, that it contains evidence that Foxe's story, for which
he does not assign any authority, could not be true.
Amongst the minutes of the business transacted by the
council (who, be it remembered, under the wilt of Henry
VIII. were the actual governors of the kingdom during
the minority of Edward:Vl.) on the 27th April 1550, is
the following entry :
" A warrant to the L. Chauncellor to make out a
writt to the Shireff-of London for the esecucon of
Johan of Kent, condempned to be burned for certein
detestable opinions of heresie."

It appears from these words, that, in conformity with
the ordinary legal practice of the period, Joan Bocher
was executed upon a writ de hceretico corahurendo, ad-
dressed to the Sheriff of London, and issued out of Chan-
cery, upon the authority of a warrant signed, not by the
king, but by the council. It would have been contrary
to constitutional custom for the king to have signed any
such document; it is quite clear, from the entry quoted,
that, in. point of fact, he did not sign it ; and the narra-
tive which the worthy martyrologist was raisled into in-
serting,. and Cranmer's difficulty to cause the king to
" put to his hand," and- the tears by which subsequent
writers have declared that his submission to the stern
pleading of his spiritual, father were accompanied, all
vanish. ¢`

i

•
Hayward's Ed. VI. p.. 16. Ed. 1636. t Soames, in. 544.
" Joan Bocher, otherways called Joan of Kent, was barnt
for holding: That Christ was not incarnate of the virgin Mary :
being condemned the year liefore, but kept in hope of conver-
sion ; and the 30th of April the bishop of London and the bishop
of Ely were to perswade her, but she withstood them, and re.
viled the preacher that preached at her death."

That no doubt may remain upon the, subject I will add, i.
That it was not customary for the king to attend the meetings
of the council. ii. That whenever the council desired that the
king should be consulted, or communicated with, an entry was
made upon the council book similar to the following, which
'occurs on the same day as the preceding: " It was agreed by
the whole counsaill, that the king's majestie should be moved
for the restituton of the duke of Somersett unto alt his goods,
his debts, and his; leases yet ungiven." iii. That the persons
present on the day, referred to were " The Lorde Chauncellor,
The L. High Threasorer, The L. P. Seale, The L. Great Cham-
berlaine, The L. Chamberlaine. The L. Pagett, The Busshopp,
of Ely, Mr Threasorer. Mr Comptroller. Mr of the Horse, Mr.
Vicechamberlaiae, Sir Rauf Sadler, Sir Edward Northe."

A DUEL IN THE DARK

(From Ainsworth's Magazine.)
All things being ready, the door, which had cautiously
been kept closed, to prevent the interior of the place from
being seen by the duellists, was opened, and they entered
the room of death together. The old man whose friend
one of them was, wept in silent bitterness, but by an in-
voluntary action, as the young man passed out of his
sight, evidently besought heaven tnassist the insulted and
the innocent. The door was closed. The time-keeper
drew out his watch, and kept his eyes steadily fixed upon
it. The assembled' party employed that brief period, In
offering and accepting (in whispers) bets of from one to
five hundred and more dollars. as to the result. Accord-
to sporting phrase, " the colonel was the favourite."
though the backers of neither one nor the other appeared
inclined to offer very long odds.
The time-keeper closed his watch, and gave the signal ;
at the same moment all the lights on the landing and
staircase were extinguished, in order that no ray might
pass through the least crevice into the inside of the room.
Everybody expected, upon the giving of the signal, to
bear the commencement of the strife ; but they listened
in dead silence to no purpose, not the remotest sound,
even of a footstep, could be heard. And thus they
waited five minutes, and ten, and twenty, and yet the
combatants gave no sign. After the lapse, as near as
might be conjectured, of half-an-hour or thereabouts, one
Pistol was discharged ; and although the listeners had
been in the continued expectation.of it so long, yet when
it did come, a sudden start of surprise ran through them,
as though each man had instantly felt that he might have
received the contents himself. And then followed a hasty
step across the floor—another pistol report—the clashing
of knives, and a brief but seemingly desperate attempt to
wrestle, which quickly terminated, and all again was

quiet.
" It's all up !" whispered one—" I'll bet drinks for
the crowd !"_ _ _ _ . . _

" Taken 1" said another—" I begin to want a julep 1"
" Fifty to forty the colonel has killed him 1" remarked
a third ;—" he was a very nice young man, but he cant
come in this time !"
And thus would they have gone on, had not the third
report been just then heard, followed by a prolonged can_
fiict hand to hand, and knife to knife, in the cour3e ,oy
which the fourth pistol was exploded. The strokes of the
knives began to grow less frequent, and more faint in
sound ; but ere they bad entirely, ceased, a heavy body
dropped with a dead sound upon the floor of the room
Another instant, and there followed another fall.
Some individuals present were for opening the door
mediately ; but this proposition was overruled, on the
ground that if the fight were not yet over, the most able

might take advantage of the appearance of the light to
kill the other, even lying on the boards.
About half-an-hour was, if I recollect aright, allowed to
pass in close and attentive listening to catch the most dis-
tand sound from within. None was heard ; and at the
expiration of that period, amidst a crowd of the most hor-
rible of anxious faces, the door was opened, and the whole
party rushed in. Towards the remoter end, and not far
from the wall, lay a heap like red cloth. It was com-
posed of the gashed and bloody bodies of the duellists !
One lay across the other. They were taken up, and some-
thing like a distant murmur of applause followed, when it
was discovered that THE COLONEL WAS UNDERMOST!
But many who best knew him spoke outright their glad.
ness, when an examination proved that he was perfectly
dead. Both bodies were so mangled, that it was next to
impossible to handle them without touching the wounds.
The best of it was, however, that the conqueror of this
fearful white savage was found to be still alive. He was
taken down stairs instantly, stimulants were given, and he
began to revive. His body was then carefully washed ;
after which, being cautiously wrapped up, he was con-
veyed away to the nearest surgeon's, sometime after mid-
night.
The room exhibited a spectacle not to be described.
The young man eventually recovered entirely of all his
wounds, and was often congratulated on having rid the
country of a monster whom few dared to attack.