was at the storming of Seringapatam, and was three years and a half a prisoner during the dreadful irruption of Hyder Ally into the Carnatic. He was also in the battle of Corunna with Sir John Moore, where he lost his left arm. In reward for his services he was created a baronet in 1809, and, after living a retired life during his latter years, died at Ferntower, in Perthshire, "full of years and honors.".

19-1823. ROBERT BLOOMFIELD DIED, ÆTAT. 57.

The author of the Farmer's Boy, Rural Tales, and other pastoral poems, was born in a little cottage, close to the church of Honnington, in Suffolk, which was purchased as a barn by the grandfather of the poet, and afterwards gradually improved into a neat and comfortable habitation. It was formerly covered with thatch; but a new roof being necessary at a time when straw was scarce, the poet, to whom it had devolved, covered it with tiles, though with great reluctance, as he lamented the loss of its original simplicity.

During the harvest of 1782, or 1783, the village suffered severely by fire; the parsonage house, several cottages, and a farm-house, were reduced

to ashes, Bloomfield's cottage would have shared the same fate had not the greatest exertions been used by the neighbours.

The poet's mother then kept a school at the cottage, and retreated from the distressing scene into the fields with a clock, and the title deeds of the house in her lap, surrounded by a group of infant scholars, in full persuasion that her habitation was feeding the flames; but, contrary to her expectation, under its friendly roof, where she had long resided, she ended her days.

20.-1823.-MARCO BOZZAris died.

Bozzaris, the Epaminondas of modern Greece, fell in an attack upon the Turkish camp at Lapsi, the site of the ancient Platoa, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were, "To die for liberty is a pleasure, not a pain."

At midnight in his guarded tent,

The Turk was dreaming of the hour,
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power;

In dreams, through camp and court he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;

In dreams his song of triumph heard,-
Then wore his monarch's signet ring,-

Then pressed that monarch's throne-a king;
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,

As Eden's garden bird.

An hour passed on-the Turk awoke;
That bright dream was his last;
He woke to hear his sentry's shriek,

"To arms! they come ! the Greek! the Greek!"
He woke to die 'midst flame and smoke,
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke,
And death-shots falling thick and fast
As lightnings from the mountain cloud;
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,
Bezzaris cheer his band.

"Strike! till the last armed foe expires;
Strike! for your altars and your fires;
Strike! for the green graves of your sires,-
God! and your native land!"

They fought like brave men, long and well,
They piled that ground with Moslem slain,
They conquered—but Bozzaris fell,

Bleeding at every vein.

His few surviving comrades saw
His smile, when rang their proud hurrah,
And the red field was won;
Then saw in death his eyelids close
Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun.

Come to the bridal chamber, death!
Come to the mother, when she feels,
For the first time, her first-born's breath;
Come when the blessed seals
Which close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come in consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake's shock, the ocean storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm
With banquet song, and dance, and wine,
And thou art terrible: the tear,

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear
Of agony, are thine.

But to the hero, when his sword

Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard

The thanks of millions yet to be.
Bozzaris! with the storied brave,
Greece nurtured in her glory's time;
Rest thee-there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own proud clime.

We tell thy doom without a sigh,

For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's;

One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not born to die.

Fitz Greene Halleck.

24. ST. BARTHOLOMEW.

He was one of the twelve apostles, and one of the first disciples who came to Jesus. Our Lord paid him a great compliment when he styled him "an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile." It is

said he travelled as far as India to propagate the Gospel; for Eusebius relates, that a famous philosopher and Christian, named Pantænus, desiring to imitate the apostolical zeal in propagating the faith, and travelling for that purpose as far as India, found there, among these who yet retained the knowledge of Christ, the Gospel of St. Matthew, written, as tradition asserts, by St. Bartholomew, when he preached the Gospel in that country. From thence he returned to the more northern and western parts of Asia, and preached to the people of Hieropolis; then in Lycaonia; and lastly, at Albania, a city upon the Caspian sea; where his endeavours to reclaim the people from idolatry were crowned with martyrdom, by being crucified with his head downwards.

On the morning of St. Bartholomew, in 1572, through the instigation of the queen-mother, Catherine de Medicis, the royal forces of Charles IX., in conjunction with the catholic mob, massacred, in cold blood, all the Protestants, or rather Calvanists, they could find in Paris. The work of destruction continued for several days; and the bloody tragedy was repeated, with every circumstance of horror, in several towns throughout the provinces. This event filled Europe with amazement; and from that time to the present, it has been a matter of controversy whether the foul deed was the result of sudden impulse, or preconcerted plot; both protestants and catholics have expressed their belief in the latter, though Dr. Lingard and others maintain the former.

He was born of plebeian parents at Tagosta, in Africa, in 354. His mother, Monica, was a woman of exemplary piety. Though he had all the advantages of a good education, he led a very dissipated

life, and his father sent him to Carthage in the hopes of reclaiming him: here he taught rhetoric with great applause, but still continued his licentious course. His mother used every endeavour to bring him back to virtue, but her efforts were ineffectual; and she had recourse to devout prayers on his behalf. Weary of Africa, Augustine removed to Rome, where his rhetorical teaching gained him great reputation, and, in 383, he was appointed professor of rhetoric at Milan. Here he renounced his heretical notions, through hearing the sermons of St. Ambrose, and was baptised in 387. The next year he returned to Africa, and was ordained priest. He was at first the coadjutor of Valerius, bishop of Hippo, and afterwards his successor. He died in 430.

29.-ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST BEHEADED.

The denomination formerly given to this day was Festum Collectionis Sancti Johannis Baptistæ, or the Feast of gathering up St. John the Baptist's relics; it was afterwards corrupted into Festum Decollationis, the festival in remembrance of his being beheaded-(See the Nativity of John the Baptist, page 259.)

29.-1829-WILLIAM WADD died.

An eminent surgeon in London, and author of various professional and other works; among which are Nuga Canora; Nuga Chirugica; Mems. Maxims, and Memoirs; and Comments on Corpulency; the last of these is an extremely amusing and popular work. Mr. Wadd's death is thus recorded in the Literary Gazette:-" He was making a short tour in the south of Ireland, in company with Mr. Tegart, of Pall Mall; and, after spending a few days at Killarney, was proceeding in a postchaise to Mitchelstown, the seat of the Earl of Ff