3.-ST. BLAISE. According to the learned antiquary Dr. Pegge, Blaise was bishop of Sebasta, in Cappadocia, and suffered death in the reign of Dioclesian, about the year 283, according to the Legenda Aurea, but the English version of that book has the year 387, neither of which dates are strictly true, since Dioclesian did not succeed to the empire till the year 284, and died before the latter date. Before his death, which was by beheading, he was whipped, and had his flesh torn ferreis pectinibus, with iron combs; and this seems to be the only reason for the respect paid to his memory by wool-combers. Butler, however, disagrees with Dr. Pegge and fixes his death in the year 316, when he was martyred in the persecution of Licinius, by the command of Agricolaus, governor of Cappidocia and the lesser Amenia. St. Blazey, a small village in Cornwall, is celebrated for having been the landing-place of the bishop, whose effigy is preserved in the church, which is dedicated to his memory. An annual festival is also held in the parish on this day, in honor of this distinguished patron of the wool-combing trade; it is also observed by nearly all the woolcombers in the kingdom, who carry in their possession an effigy of the Saint as the inventor or patron of their art. At Wakefield in Yorkshire, in 1829, this day was kept by a public procession and much rejoicing. 5.-ST. AGATHA. A Sicilian martyr who suffered about the year 251. Butler relates, that before her death she was tortured, and being refused physicians, St. Peter himself came from heaven, healed her wounds, and filled her prison with light. Agatha's charms attracted the notice of the governor of the province, who, being unable to effect his base purpose, ordered her to be scourged for not worshipping the pagan deities: her tortures being continued, she at length prayed to God to receive her soul, and expired while under punishment. 5.-1807.-PASCAL DE PAOLI Died, ætat. 81. This celebrated patriot was born at Rostino, in Corsica, in 1726, in a humble dwelling, of which the above is a correct view. In his 29th year he was unanimously chosen generalissimo, in a full assembly of the people, and began by re-modelling the laws of Corsica. When the Genoese basely sold the island to the French monarch, Paoli remained firm in his determination of securing the independence of his country. In the war which ensued, the French were beaten; but a reinforcement having arrived, the Corsican patriots were overwhelmed, Paoli being left with only about five hundred men; these were, unfortunately, surrounded, but, though the French were anxious to secure the person of their chief, Paoli succeeded in cutting a way for himself and little band through the ranks of his enemies. As resistance was now in vain, he met his hardy followers on the Ponte Vecchio, near Vivario, which crosses a mountain torrent, and bade adieu to them and his country, in 1769. He escaped to England, where he was received with feelings of admiration and respect. Being introduced at court, the Duke of Grafton, then prime minister, obtained for him a pension of £1200 a year, which he liberally shared with his companions in exile. From this time he lived a retired life, devoting himself chiefly to the cultivation of elegant literature; and forming intimacies with Dr. Johnson, Goldsmith, and other great men. On the breaking out of the French revolution he repaired to Paris, and soon after embarked for Corsica, where he was presented to the rank of Commander-in-Chief, and President of the department. He was, however, not quite contented; he was ambitious of seeing Corsica wholly independent, and, this being also the wish of his countrymen, Paoli was declared a traitor by the French government. On this, he resolved upon an expedient, which, though it was a renunciation of independence, promised to secure all the advantages of real liberty; this was an union of Corsica with the Crown of Great Britain: after effecting which, he returned to England. Having lost all his property by the failure of a mercantile house at Leghorn, he was compelled to pass the remainder of his life in great privacy in London, where he ended his days. Corsica is a wild romantic country. Its inhabitants are in general stout and well formed, but of rather a ferocious appearance. Their manners are simple, and their dress so uniform, that it scarcely forms any criterion to distinguish the rich from the poor. The mountaineers have a war-like appearance, and all resemble the annexed figures. 5.-1829.-JOHN BIRD DIED, ÆTAT. 61. A self-taught artist of some eminence, who without the aid of a liberal education, or early instruction in his art, rose into reputation by the force of strong original intellect, and habits of close application and persevering industry. 6.-1829.-SIR MARK WOOD, BART. F.R.S. DIED. Early in life Sir Mark went to India, and entered into the Company's service. Having amassed a considerable fortune, he returned to England in 1790, and became a Member of Parliament in 1794, He was the author of The Importance of Malta considered; with remarks during a Journey from L England, through Egypt, to India: and also of A Review of the Origin, Progress, and Result of the late War with Tippoo Sultaun. 7.-SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. So called from its being about the seventieth day before Easter. It is the ninth Sunday before Easter, and the third before Lent. The earliest term of Septuagesima Sunday is the 18th of January, when Easter-day falls on the 22nd of March; the latest is the 22nd of February, when Easter happens on the 25th of April. 8.-1586.-MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS BEHEADED. MARY'S LAMENT By Emma C. Embury. The queen ceased not to direct her looks to the shore of France, until the darkness interrupted her wishful eye. At the dawn of day the coast of France was still in sight, the galleys having made but little progress during the night. While it remained in view, she often repeated, Farewell, France! farewell! I shall never see you more!'-Chalmer's Life of the Scottish Queen. Farewell, dear France! my sad heart's chosen home Still o'er thy shores mine eyes delighted roam, But ah? the cruel winds the white sails swell; My bark too swiftly on to reach its port of care! How sharp might be the thorns that line a crown! How can my weak hand bear the sceptre's weight alone? |