KING CHARLES AND THE WITCHES. "Once on a time, when the funny King Charles was in great straits and jeopardy of fortune, as he was sitting in the midst of his courtiers and counsellors after supper in his palace, heavy and worn out in spirit, he declared on his honour as a prince, that he felt himself so oppressed and weighed down, he would grant to any one of them the first reasonable petition he might have occasion to present, who would lighten his fancy that night: whereupon, all the courtiers and counsellors began to strive with one another to divert his majesty, every one telling something that was to be more comical than the tales which had gone before. But their endeavours were all in vain; the more tribulation they put themselves to in order to make the king laugh, and grow again jocose, the more they saddened his royal spirit, till he said in the words of Solomon, "vanity of vanities, all his vanity." But it happened, that there was that night in the presence a learned discreet doctor of divinity, from the west country, on some concern of the kirk, which required a canny handling to bring to a proper issue; and he, seeing the weak and feckless striving of the lords and gentlemen, said, " May it please your Majesty, I would do the part of a loyal subject in this matter; but the stories I have to tell are no such wonderful as those which your majesty has graciously endeavoured to endure." The words of which address so drew the king's attention, that he desired the doctor (Halket, I believe, was his name,) to tell him one of his tales. "I doubt, most dread monarch," replied the doctor, "that what I have to tell will obtain little credit here; but as your majesty is well known to be, in the words of the prayer book, a most religious sovereign, perhaps it may be blessed on your majesty's pious frame of mind, with a salutary impression and effect. What I have to say, is of an adventure that befel myself, when I was a lad, before going to the College of Glasgow. "Your majesty has belike heard that there are certain mystical women in the world called witches. In the shire of Renfrew we have had, both in time past, and at present, no small trouble with their pranks, and it is as thoroughly beieved among the country folk as the gos pel, that the witches are in the practice "I should here explain, that the "Being staying with him, we one day went out to shoot. It was in the afternoon. We started nothing, and we staid late, not easily content, as your majesty may well think, with such profitless sport. But I trow, we have both had cause to remember long that afternoon; for in the gloaming, as we were coursing with our dejected dogs, the which were as disappointed as ourselves, we started, as we thought, a hare out of a whin bush. It ran before us, in every gesture, lith, and limb, just like a hare, and the dogs pursued it as if it had been nothing less natural. We followed, never doubting that it was a hare. "A fine harvest evening had set in, and the new moon, the sickle of Time, betokened, in the western heavens, that Nature was binding up the sheaves of our days; but, nevertheless, we followed our game, never suspecting that it was any thing but a poor terrified mawkin. Logan took a vizy, and fired, bút his gun flashed in the pan: I likewise presented, and, in the same moment, my hand was smitten with a cramp, or something no canny; but neither of us, for all that, entertained any doubt of the hare being what it appeared---a hare. "Well, sir, please your majesty, Logan primed again, and I, having beaten the life into my fingers, followed the game, and fired, but missed.---This set Logan foremost, and he shortly after also fired. He might as well have whistled; what we had at first thought a hare, continued to scamper on unhurt. "By this time I had loaded again, and again, after running on some twenty paces in the track of the beast, confident I had a hare in view, I fired a second time. It was of no avail. Logan having in the meanwhile loaded, came up to me. "In the pursuit, we had followed the hare, as we thought it was, to the walls of an old abbey. It had been a sanctified place in the times of popery, but it was burnt down when Glencairn, at the Reformation, herrit the monks' nests throughout Coningham. Many a sad story was told of that place. It would curdle the royal blood in your majesty's sacred veins, were I to relate what is told and believed concerning the deeds done by the popish friars in that ruinous monastery. One day, when a farmer, whom I knew, was pulling down a piece of the wall to help to mend a dike, he found the skeleton of a human hand built in with the stones. What more he discovered he never would reveal, but from that day he was an altered man. However, to return from this digression, please your majesty, the moon and twilight shone bright on the abbey walls, and we saw the hare, as we thought, as perfect as possible, cowering along the bottom of the wall. I would have fired, but Logan stopped me. He was a worthy pious man. "Lend me your sleeve-buttons," said he. They were Bristol stones, set in silver. The manner in which he spoke was very solemn. It made the flesh crawl on my bones, and my hair to rise. I said nothing,. but took the buttons from my shirt-sleeves, keeping my eye stedfast on the hare, as we both thought it was. He did the same. The buttons out of my right sleeve he put into his gun. "Put the others in yours," said he.-I did so." In the name of the Lord," cried he, "take aim." We presented together; we both fired in the same moment, and ran to the spot where we thought a bare had been.---" And what the devil was it?" cried the king.--"Please you majesty," replied the doctor, "It was just a fine fat hare." THE MAN OF HONOR; A CURIOUS NEAPOLITAN ANECDOTE, AT Naples, there was a very particular man of honor, whose name was Bandoli; he was the greatest bravo of his time, and it was said, that he had with his own hand dispatched upwards of eighty persons by assassination, for that was the profession he got his bread by. He made use occasionally of pistol, sword, poignard, and stiletto, but he scorned to poison any one he was hired to make away with, alledging that there was something unmanly in it. That it was not an action any person of honor would be guilty of, and that it was as much beneath a bravo to turn poisoner, às it would be for a regular bred physician to commence quack doctor. Two Neapolitan gentlemen quarrelled one evening at an assembly, and according to the honorable custom of the times, each sent separately for Bandoli, and gave him fifty pistoles a piece to make quick work with each other. The last man he dispatched as soon as he had paid him, and then returned to the first person, who, on hearing Bandoli relate how he had slaughtered his adversary, commended the bravo greatly for his dexterity in his business. "Yes, Sir," replied Bandoli, every one who employs me shall always find me punctual, for I am a man of honour, Sir; and to convince you that I would not forfeit it, the gentleman whom I have just sent home, by your own order, gave me fifty pistoles to make an end of you; now I, although he is dead, and cannot call me to an account for not doing what he employed me in, yet, I am so much a man of honour, that I scorn to be guilty of a breach of promise to any gentleman;" he then thrust his stiletto deep into the other's breast. THE GENEROUS PEDLAR; A TRUE STORY. AN inhabitant of a village in the circle of Suabia was reduced to the most extreme poverty. For some days his family had subsisted only on a little oatmeal; and this being exhausted, their misery was extreme. A baker, to whem the father owed nine crowns, refused, with unrelenting cruelty, to supply them with any more bread till this sum was paid. The cries of his wretched babes almost expiring for want, and the tears of an affectionate wife, pierced him with unutterable anguish. Dearest husband,' said the distracted mother, shall we suffer these miserable infants to perish? Have we given them birth, only to behold them die of hunger? See these poor victims, the fruits of our love, their cheeks already covered with the paleness of death! For me-I expire with grief and misery. Alas! could I but yet preserve their lives at the expence of my own. Run-fly to the next town-speak our distresses-let not a false shame conceal them!-Every moment you lose is a dagger to your family. Perhaps Heaven may yet be touched by our miseries-you may find some good heart who may yet relieve us.' children almost naked, lying on straw, dying with hunger, and the motherwhat an object was the wretched mother! The peasant relates the adventure to his wife. 'You know,' said he,' with what eagerness I went to the town, in the hope of finding some relief. But, ah! I found only hard hearts, people busy in amassing riches, or in dissipating what they already have, in luxury and idle expences. Refused by all-desperatefurious-I went into a neighbouring wood. Can you believe it?-I have dared to lay violent hands on this good manI have dared-Oh! I cannot tell you.' 6 'Pity my poor babes,' exclaimed the distracted mother, looking with moving earnestness to the pedlar; consider our miserable situation.-Alas! poverty hath The unhappy father, covered with rags, not altered our sentiments. In all our and more resembling a spectre than a misery, we have yet preserved our homan, hastened to the town. I beseech your mercy for my nesty. He entreated, he solicited, he described his husband-I implore your compassion for these wretched infants.' wretched situation, with that affected eloquence which the bitterness of anguish must inspire. In vain he implored compassion. Not one would hear him. Rendered desperate by such unexpected cruelty, he entered into a wood, determined to attack the first passenger. Dire necessity now appeared a law, and an opportunity soon occurred. A pedlar passed by; he stopped him. The pedlar made not the least resistance, but gave up his purse, containing twenty crowns. No sooner had the unfortunate man committed this robbery, than he felt the horrors of remorse, and, returning to the pedlar, he threw himself, all in tears, at his feet. Take back your money,' said he. Believe how much it has cost me before I could be resolved to commit this crime. My heart has been unused to guilt. Come, I beseech you, to my cottage. You will there see the only motives that could lead me to this action; and when you view the deplorable condition of my family, you will forgive, you will pity me; you will be my benefactor, my preserver.' The honest pedlar raised the poor unfortunate man, and comforted him. Unable to withstand his solicitations, or rather yielding to the feelings of his own compassionate heart, he hesitated not to follow the peasant. But with what emotions did he enter his ruinous habitation! How moving every object! The The good pedlar, melted by this melancholy scene, mingled his tears with those of these poor people. I am your friend,' said he, Take these twenty crowns-I insist upon it. Why is not my ability equal to my good wishes for you? I grieve that I cannot secure you a happier one for the future.' What!' answered the peasant,' instead of treating me as your enemy, are you so good as to be my preserver? Alas! my crime renders me unworthy of this goodness. No! if I die with hunger, I will not take this money.' The pedlar, insisting still, compels him to take it. The whole family kiss the benevolent hand, which had thus preserved them from death. Tears only on every face can speak their grateful hearts, and the pedlar retires with that sweet delight, which benevolent minds only can taste. Oh ye? on whom Fortune smiles, the gay, the proud, the affluent, the avaricious! After this example of benevolence in a poor pedlar, can your hearts be ever inaccessible to pity? Can you henceforth behold unmoved the sufferings of your fellow-creatures? Will you never feel the delight of doing good? Oh! sleep not in the bosom of affluence-Fortune is inconstant. Enjoy her present favors; but forget not this important truth, that your superfluities, at least, are the patrimony of the poor. I I Verses. Reflections upon seeing a Preparatory See yonder arch-expressioned boy, That little thick-set boy appears, Daring and bold, unknown to fear; A Matthew Hale, or Doctor Mead*, Dr. Richard Mead, a celebrated Physician in the reigns of George the First and That little man, with studious look, The unshaken heart is there exprest, Now mark this child, with visage mean, See with what earnestness he tries That frank-eyed lad, with cheek of health, I must withdraw my mental sight, Second Sir Matthew Hale, Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench in the reign of Charles the Second. + Sir Christopher Wren, the most eminent Architect of his age; he drew a plan for re-building the City of London after the fire. He built St. Paul's Cathedral, the Theatre of Oxford, Chelsea College; and one of the wings of Greenwich Hospital. See the interesting story, in the Arabian Nights, of the three calenders, sons of Kings, and the five Ladies of Bagdad. |