might have been heard from aloft, but for the noise of the vessel speeding on her way. "Yes, boasting dog, death you shall have, but it shall be with hot iron in your hissing flesh, and burn ing brimstone in your cursed mouth." "Cut-throat-coward!” "Silence! my revenge is not to be cheated by words. Look at me ; do you not owe me a long debt of vengeance?-Look at this damned scar?” "Blood for blood!" pierced the air aloft. The af frighted pirates glanced wildly upwards, when the whirling, whizzing body of the forgotten Arnold fell on the upturned face of Bernardo, snapping his neck, and crushing him to the deck, a hideous corpse! "My father! oh, my father," shrieked the expiring Arnold, writhing and crawling to the murdered cap tain. But his brave soul had gone; he knew not the infamy of his son. With a piteous moan, the poor "I fired that ball; would it had struck your youth clasped the stiffened corse, and breathed his brain." dying agony on his parent's bosom. The pirates stood "Look at this blasted arm, than which a better appalled. The bodies of the father and son were never wrung a villain's neck." dropped overboard together; as they went slowly "I pointed the swivel; would it had torn out your down, the face of the father, yet bold and proud, black heart." gleamed for an instant under the bright wave and sunk for ever;—the dead Bernardo followed ;—another commanded in his stead, and "The Flower of the Sea" sailed on. With a gnash of rage, Bernardo thrust a pistol into the very eye of the unfortunate captain, and fired! At the instant, a long, shrill, unearthly scream of A SINGULAR little volume was published in Edinburgh, in the year 1822, entitled “Memoir of the Life and Trial of James Mackcoull or Moffat." This Mack coull was a notorious bank robber, pickpocket, and swindler, who died in the county jail at Edinburgh, shortly after receiving a reprieve from the sentence of death, to which the honest vengeance of the laws had doomed him. The "strange influence" which procured him a commutation of punishment is not explained, but the cool influence and consummate villany of the man renders the exercise of the royal prerogative of mercy a remarkable proceeding. On reaching the hustings, they saw nothing to suit their views; while, as our hero predicted, they per ceived a number of low thieves from London, mixed inn, dined in a private room, and having asked some with the rabble. They, therefore, adjourned to the of the electors to partake of a glass of wine, were, in return, invited to join in their libations. After the bottle had gone freely round for some hours, a band of music arrived, and the electors had a bull or stag dance. In this our hero's two associates gladly joined, and stripped a number of the electors of their waches and money. Although their depredations were numerous, yet the value was comparatively trifling to what they expected; and having lost sight of Mack. coull, and supposing he had deserted them, they left Brentford, and reached the old rendezvous in safety. Here they complained loudly of the conduct of our either fought shy, or concealed his plunder; which. according to the rules of their society, was highly dis honorable. Amongst the whole race of thieves, ancient and modern, from Cacus down to the pickpocket of yester-hero, and asserted, that if he was not taken, he had day, we do not remember a more cunning, daring, desperate, profliga te, abandoned, surprising rogue than the subject of the above-mentioned Memoir. His life, from his very cradle, was one continued scene of iniquity and crime; and, indeed, in the wretched situation in which fortune had placed him, we can scarcely wonder that it should have been so. His mother, a ture. But Mackcoul! had neither been taken, nor acted contrary to rule. Like a well-trained falcon, he despised the many trifling objects he saw before him, and reserved his attack for a bird worthy of his capHe perceived a baker with his pocket-book literally crammed with money, and, being determined woman of infamous character, educated her children to carry off the prize, he watched an opportunity of to the profession of robbery, and the natural conse-doing the thing in a masterly style. The baker was quence was, that one of them suffered death, and a kind of leading man in the business, and being conanother died in prison under conviction for a capital tinually surrounded by some of the electors, could not crime. His first depredation was robbing a poor man ing, by dint of inquiry, or in the course of conversation, be got at for a considerable time. But our hero hav. who sold cats-meat, by throwing snuff into his eyes, learned that the baker was knowing in astronomy, or and then running away with his bag of pence: en- at least was extremly fond of being thought star-wise, couraged by his success, he joined a band of juvenile he resolved to turn his knowledge of the heavenly depredators, and became a great adept at clicking and bodies to good account. The moment, therefore, he twitching, or in other words, stealing hats from gentle-ing him on his superior knowledge in that pleasing saw him disengaged, he stepped up, and complimentmen's heads, and shawls from ladies' shoulders. He science, asked his opinion, very gravely, of that strange soon acquired the reputation of a skilful artist amongst alternating star, or luminous body, which the people the family men—as the thieves of London are called had been gazing at all the evening, and whether he had and the following anecdote will give some idea of his ever observed any thing like it before? The baker, abilities:with astonishment, replied, that he knew nothing of the matter; and asked our hero in what part of the During the time of the Brentford, Middlesex, elec-heavens it had appeared. He said he could not well tion, two of the gang proposed going there, as a place where, to use their own phrase, many good things might be done, and asked Mackcoull to accompany them. He said, he did not much like the idea, as there would be many green hands on the ground, by whom they might be observed and exposed; but as he longed to have a touch at the pot-wabblers, he would go with them. *Or pol-walloppers, a nickname bestowed upon the electors in certain districts in England, who, previous to the passage of the Reform Bill, were allowed to vote if they could prove having boiled a pot in the borough to which they professed to belong. answer the question, but if he (the baker) would condescend to step out, he would show him the spot where he and the other folks had seen it: that they stood close by the gable of an adjoining house, and, looking up in a line with the chimney, they saw the star now and then, and, as it were, shifting from one place to another: that it was very large, and seemed to have a tail; and the people were observing, they supposed, that he (the baker) would be busy with his glass somewhere, contemplating this phenomenon. “I would not lose the sight for a fifty," said the baker, and immediately accompanied our hero. By the time, however, that the learned baker was placed in a position to look for the star, his pocket-book was gone; and the moment this was effected, Mackcoull sug gested the propriety, as the star was not then visible, | police, and an exposure of the abuses of that ministeof sending for his glass, so as they might have a better rial department of the law. It is a very interesting view of this heavenly wonder; but as the baker would book, but must be read cum grano salis. The writer allow no one to meddle with his instruments, he went to fetch it himself;-while, finding a chaise at a little distance, waiting a return hire to London, our hero jumped in, and proffering the driver a crown to him self to drive hard, as he was on express business, set off like lightning; and being set down, as he desired, at Charing Cross, he walked deliberately to the kenam, with my wife, gone to the theatre, Covent Garden in Drury Lane. of it, who has lived all his life under surveillance, on I take this step in order to prevent any ill-founded, We must hasten over many entertaining particulars of Mackcoull's adventures, to arrive at the daring attempt which ultimately ended in his destruction. In conjunction with a man of the name of French, and the celebrated Houghton, alias Huffey White, who contrived for that special occasion to make his third escape from the conviet hulks, he succeeded in rob. bing the Paisley Bank of £20,000, part of which he In the sixth, and last volume, of D'Israeli's "Cs bucketed, or appropriated to his own use, in fraud of|riosities of Literature," is an account of the ancient his fellow thieves. A portion of this stolen property Luxury of Dress. We occasionally grumble at the at length came to the hands of the Paisley bankers, dandies of the present day, but the doings of the ewho detained it as their own, upon which Mackcoullquisites of the times by-gone eclipse our utmost shines. had the singular audacity-a pitch of impudence The extract is worth preserving. surely never equalled by the most daring thief-actually to bring an action against the bank for the re- In my researches among manuscript letters of the covery of it. In the course of these Scotch law. times, I have had frequent occasion to discover how proceedings, in which we find the extraordinary hard their acres on their backs, and with their ruinous and persons of considerable rank appear to have carried words, or vocabula artis, of multiple-poinding, assoilzied, fantastical luxuries sadly pinched their hospitality. It act of sederunt, &c., it was necessary for Mackcoull to was this which so frequently cast them into the nets make a "judicial declaration," which is a tissue of the of the goldsmiths,' and other trading usurers. At the most palpable falsehoods. He mentioned the names coronation of James the First, I find a simple Knight whose cloak cost him five hundred pounds; but tas of numerous individuals, some at Montreal, others at was not uncommon. At the marriage of Elizabeth, Berne, while others of them had changed their resi- the daughter of James the First, Lady Wotton had a dence, and gone he knew not whither. When pressed gown of which the embroidery cost fifty pounds a by more specific inquiries, he refused to make any yard. The Lady Arabella made four gowns, one of farther answer, " as it might lead to rude inquiries, bestowed £1,500, in apparel for his two daughters. which cost £1,500. The Lord Montacut (Montague) disagreeable to the feelings of those to whom they One lady, under the rank of Baroness, was furnished were addressed.", The climax of this farce was his with jewels exceeding one hundred thousand pounds; writing a letter to a Mr. James Martin, whom he and the Lady Arabella goes beyond her,' says the alleged to be a necessary witness for him, to which letter writer. All this extreme costs and riches maker he received an answer, supposed to have been written observing grave writers of state despatches, jocular on us all poor,' as he imagined! I have been amused in by his brother John Mackcoull; and certainly two any mischance or mortification to which persons are more entertaining documents were never produced in liable, whose happiness entirely depends on their dress. court. At the trial, our hero's conduct was most sub- Sir Sidney Carleton, our minister at Venice, commulimely impudent. To the astonishment of all, he nicates, as an article worth transmitting, the great pressed through the crowd, till he reached Mr. Cock-disappointment incurred by Sir Thomas Glover, who was just come hither, and had appeared one day like burn, the counsel for the bank, and here he stood with a comet, all in crimson velvet and beaten gold, but great composure, looking round him with a grin pecu- had all his expectations marred on a sudden by the liarly his own. In a short time after his trial, Mack-news of Prince Henry's death.' A similar mischance coull was indicted for the robbery, and convicted on the most satisfactory testimony. This volume, which evidently was got up by some one connected with the police, and acquainted with the mode of life which thieves pursue, and the language which they use, is written with considerable ability, though not without some prejudices against the subject of it, which have led the writer to endeavor to prove that Mackcoull was the murderer of one Begbie, porter to a bank in Edinburgh. We may be allowed in this place to mention a curious volume published some years ago by that John Mackcoull whom we have mentioned above, which contains an account of the persecutions that he suffered from the from a different cause, was the lot of Lord Hay, whe smaller gentry. There is a remarkable picture of Sir barn, or those smaller spirits, who tell us in their Walter, which will at least serve to convey an idea song, of the gayety and splendor of his dress. It is a white satin pinked vest, close sleeved to the wrist; over the body a brown doublet, finely flowered and embroidered with pearl. In the feather of his hat a large ruby and pearl drop at the bottom of the sprig, in place of a button: his trunk, or breeches, with his stockings and riband garters, fringed at the end, all white, and buff shoes with white riband. Oldys, who saw this picture, has thus described the dress of Rawleigh. But I have some important additions; for I find that Rawleigh's shoes on great court days were so gorgeously covered with precious stones, as to have exceeded the value of six thousand six hundred pounds; and that he had a suit of armor of solid silver, with sword and belt blazing with diamonds, rubies, and pearls, whose value was not so easily calculated. Rawleigh had no patrimonial inheritance; at this moment he had on his back a good portion of a Spanish galleon, and the profits of a monopoly of trade he was carrying on with a the newly discovered Virginia. Probably he placed all his hopes in his dress! The Virgin Queen, when she issued proclamations against the excesses of apparel,' pardoned, by her looks, that promise of a mine which blazed in Rawleigh's; and, parsimonious as she was, forgot the three thousand changes of dresses which she herself left in the royal wardrobe. Buckingham could afford to have his diamonds tacked so loosely on, that when he chose to shake a few off on the ground, he obtained all the fame he desired from the pickers-up, who were generally les dames de la cour; for our Duke never condescended to accept what he himself had dropped. His cloaks were trimmed with great diamond buttons, and diamond hat-bands, cockades, and ear rings yoked with great ropes and knots of pearls. This was, however, but for ordinary dances. He had twenty-seven suits of clothes made, the richest that embroidery, lace, silk, velvet, silver, gold, and gems could contribute; one of which was a white uncut velvet, set all over, both suit and cloak, with diamonds valued at fourscore thousand pounds, besides a great feather stuck all over with diamonds, as were also his sword girdle, hat, and spurs. In the masques and banquets with which Buckingham entertained the Court, he usually expend. ed, for the evening, from one to five thousand pounds. To others I leave to calculate the value of money; the sums of this gorgeous wastefulness, it must be recollected, occurred before this million age of ours. Many of the popular superstitions of England are extremely amusing, and we are almost tempted to lament that we can no longer believe in the stories of the "Lubbar Fiend," or pleasant tales of "Friar Rush ;" or at least that these ingenious inventions are grown obsolete and out of fashion. Robin Goodfellow, and other sociable demons, must have been very agreeable companions; but alas! they have vanished, and the only traces which are left of them are locked up in black letter, and doled out in scraps from the libraries of those fortunate persons who can afford to give £1,000 for a scarce volume. Of Friar Rush there is but one copy extant, and that is in the pos session of the Marquis of Stafford. The learned Mr. Ritson doubted its existence for a long time, but such a treasure is in being, and the quaintness of the narrative may entertain those who are not smitten with the bibliomania, but who love to mingle with the domestic elves, haunting the kitchen chimney or the By wells and rills in meadows green, We nightly dance our hey-day guise, We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. The title of Friar Rush, a book in black letter, ornamented with wood-cuts, runs thus:— The Historie of Frier Rush. How he came to a house of religion to seeke a service, and being entertained by the Priour, was first made Cooke; being full of pleasant mirthe, and delight for young people. Imprinted at London by Edo-All-de, and are to be solde by Francis Grove dwelling on Snowhill, 1626. It contains fourteen chapters, and the heads give a good analysis of the story. 1. A pleasant history how a devill named Rush, came to a religious house to seeke a service. 2. How a devill named Rush, came unto a gentlewoman's house, and how he brought her privily into his Master's Chamber. 3. How Frier Rush threw the Maister Cooke into a kettle of water seething upon the fire, wherein he died. 4. How Frier Rush made truncheons for the Friers to fight withal. 5. How Frier Rush grymed the waggon with tarre, and what cheere he made in the countrey. 6. How the Priour made Frier Rush sexton among the Friers, and how he charged him to give him knowledge how many Friers were absent from Maltins at midnight, and what they were. 7. How Rush went forthe a sporting, and was late forthe, and how in his way coming home he found a cowe, and which cowe he divided into two parts, the one halfe he tooke on his necke, and carried it with him, and the other halfe he left still, and how soon had made it ready for the Friers supper. 8. How a Farmer of the Prioury sought his cowe, and how he was desolated by the way homeward, and was feine to lye in a hollow tree, and of the vision that he had. unto the Priour on the morrowe after, and tolde him 9. How the Farmer which laye in the tree, came the wonders he had heard, and the words of Frier Rush, and that he was a very devill. 10. The lamentation that Rush made when he was departed out of the house of Religion. 11. How Rush came to a husbandman labouring in the field, and desired to be entertayned in his service. 12. How Rush came home to make cleane the stable, and how he found the Priest under the manger cover. ed with straw. 13. How Rush came home and found the Priest in the Cheese Basket, and how he trayled him about the towne. 14. How Rush became servant to a gentleman, and how the Devil was conjured out of the gentlemans daughter.. The contents of the seventh chapter, which proved the cause of poor Rush's dismissal from the Monastery, are as follows: "It befell upon a time that Rush, when all his businesse was done in the kitchen, he woulde goe further in the country to sport him, and to passe the time with good company. As he walked on his way, his chaunce was to come into a village which was two or three mile from the place where he did dwell, and when he was enter'd into the village, he looked caused it to be publyshed in many parysheas there about, that the Parson of Kalenborow at a daye assigned, wolde fle over the Rever of Tonowa from the stepyll of his owne churche, and this he proclaymed in his owne parysh also. And than he caused ii wynges of Pecockes fedders to be made, and also he caused his naughty wynes to be brought under the churche stepyll whereas he sholde stande for to fle round about him in every corner to finde out som company to make merry withall, and at the last espied an ale house, and in he entered, and there he founde good fellowes playing at cardes, and drinking, and made cheere. Then Rush made obeysance to them, and sate downe among them, and dranke with the Players, and afterward he fell to play and was as merrie as any man in the company, and so long he played and passed the time, that cleane he had forgot-over the rever. And he gave the clerke charge of his ten what he had to doe at home, and the day went fast away, and the night approached. Anon Rush looked up and perceived that it was almost night, remembered himself that there was nothing readie at hom for the Priours supper and Covent, and it was almost supper time. Wherefore he thought it was time to departe thence, so he payed for his drinke, and tooke his leave, and homeward he went, and on his way he founde a fat cowe grasing in the field, and sudaynely he divided her in two parts, and the one halfe he tooke on his necke and carried it home, and quickly he made it ready, some he put in the pot, and some upon the spit, and he made mervaillous good pottage, and roasted the meat very well, and made such good speed that every thing was readie at the hour accustomed to goe to supper; whereof the Priour and all the Friers had great mervaille that he had every thing readie so soone, for they knew it was late ere he came home, for some of the Friers had beene in the kitchen a little before, and saw neither cooke, nor fire, nor any thing prepared toward supper. Wherefore they gave to Rush, and said he was very quicke in his office." The "Pfarrer Von Calenberg" is mentioned in an exceedingly scarce and curious tract, entitled "De Generibus Ebriosorum," and printed in a quarto form, at Nuremburg in 1516. Calenberg, or Calembourg, is a village in Lower Saxony. This fragment is the history of The Parson of Calembourg, of which the following is not the least curious specimen :-' "The Parson of Kalenborow had wyne in his seler which was marred; and because he would have no losse be it, he practised a wyle to be ridde of it, and wyne, because he sholde sell it well and dere to the most profyte. And when the daye was come that the Parson sholde fle, many one come theder to se the mervayle from farre contrees, and then the Parson went upon the stepyll arayed like an angell ready for to fle, and there he flickerd often tymes with his wynges, but he stode styll. In the mean whyle that the people, stode so to beholde hym, the sonne shone hote, and they had great thurste, for the Preste did not flee, and he se that, and beckened to them, sayinge, ye good people my tyme is not yet to fle, but tary awhile and ye shall se what I shall do. And than the people went and dranke apace of this wyne what they they se there for to sell, and they dronke so longe that they coulde gete no more wyne for money, and cryed out for drynke, and made great preas. And within a little tyme after, the Clerke come to the Parson, and sayde, sir, your wyne is all solde and well payde for, though there had ben more. The Parson being very gladde of this tydings, began to flicker with his wynges agayne, and called with a lowde voyce unto the people, saing, Harke! harke! harke! is there any among ye all that ever se a man have wynges or fle? There stepped one furthe, and sayde, Nay, sir, nay. The Parson ansered agayne, and sayd, Nor never shall be my fay. Therefore go your wayes home every whone, and say that ye have dranke up the Parson of Kalen horows evill wynes, and paid for it well, and truly more than ever it cost him. Than ware the vilaynes, or paysanns mervelously angry, and in their language cursed the Parson perillously, some a myscheve, and vengea unce, and some sayd, God geve him an hundred drouse, for he hathe made amonge us many a fole and tolynge asse. But the Parson cared not for all their curses; and this subtyle dede was spred all the countre 'about." |