tions of our own. To this rank we honestly conceive the annexed Engraving to be entitled, and accordingly have much pleasure in awarding the distinction; although its intrinsic merit did not need our assistance. A ROYAL FUNERAL. "A PRINCE to the fate of a peasant has yielded: The tapestry waves dark through the dimlighted hall; With 'scutcheons of silver the coffiu is shielded, And pages stand mute by the canopied pall; Through the courts at deep midnight the torches are gleaming In the proudly-arch'd chapel the banners are beaming Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming, Lamenting a chief of the people should fall," RULES FÖR JUDGING of the Sir W. Scott. THE EV'ning's veil Was o'er Augusta and her many spires, WEATHER. HAPPENING to look over the last volume of your interesting publication, and seeing the article at page 72, entitled "Signs of the Seasons," it put me in mind of some quaint lines at the end of the Perpetual Almanack, published at Salisbury, in the year 1777, which I And lower'd her pennon. Through the stilly hope will not prove either uninteresting streets The "house of mourning" for the monarch's death? Where Windsor rears its battlemented headAmidst the haunts which laughing Shakspeare drew In fadeless colours-near to where the muse Cast on each panoply its pallid glare. And there was seen The " or unuseful to your readers, at this variable season. F. J. If you'd be weather-wise, attend And study how to read the sky. If blue the morning sky appear, The day will be serene and clear; But if red clouds with black prevail, Expect a storm of rain or hail. Whene'er the moon, night's silver queen, Is bid by clouds of darkish green, And stars, just seen, appear to low'r, Depend you'll have a heavy show'r. If in the sun or moon appear Black spots, altho' the sky is clear, Be sure a storm is very near; And if the beauteous rainbow's seen, Where the mild weather is serene, Bleak winds will quickly change the scene. If a prodigious cloud you spy, Pass quickly on, tho' very high: When the sun's beams are broad and red, Some boisterous weather you may dread. Whene'er the evening is serene, When flashing quickly thro' the sky When in a clear, but wintry night, When winds irregularly blow, And dingy clouds pass to and fro, You may expect a deal of snow. And if you find no morning dew, Be sure cold weather will ensue. If round the moon a circle's seen Of white, and all the sky's serene, The following day you may divine Will surely prove exceeding fine. Whene'er in autumn, or in spring, A mist the moon doth with it bring, At noon the sun will bright appearThe ev'ning be serene and clear. In winter, store of rain and snow A spring and summer fine foreshow; But if too mild the winter's found, Diseases will in spring abound. CARDS. (For the Mirror.) THE four kings - David, Alexander, Cæsar, and Charles, which names are still on the French cards, represent the four celebrated monarchies of the Jews, Greeks, Romans, and Franks, under Charlemagne. The consorts of these illustrious personages are named Argine, Esther, Judith, and Pallas-typical of birth, piety, fortitude, and wisdom. Argine is an anagram of "Regina," Queen by descent. By the knaves were designed the servants or valets of the Kings, for Knave originally meant ACE DE TREFLE. a Servant. * See Mirror, vol iii. p. 211. The Sketch-Book. THE RATS' TOWER. (To the Editor of the Mirror.) If you have ever been on the Rhine, you must have heard the annexed legend from some of its boatmen. Every man tells the story in his own way, and I dare say I have written it something in my way, although the substance of the story is as I received it.† Between Mayence and Caub, on the Rhine, is Bingen, and below it the Maus Thurm, or the Tower of the Rats, to which rather a romantic story is attached, but in which no faith can be placed. Its founder is generally believed to be Hatton, Abbé of Fuld, and afterwards Archbishop of Mayence, who lived about the tenth century-a man of great piety and learning, and who, by the extreme rigour he enforced in the discharge of the monastic duties, irritated his monks against him. In those days, the passage across the Rhine was extremely dangerous, and no doubt the A metrical version of this legend will be found at page 68 of vol. xii. of The Mirror, where it is called the "Mouse Tower." worthy prelate's intention in erecting this structure was to serve as a sort of beacon to the boatmen. Its original name, "Mauth Zoll," meaning the payment of duties, leads to this inference, that it was erected as a toll-house. It. is not unlikely that it embraced both objects. It is to Hatton's discontented monastery that the origin of the following legend is attributed; and the present boatmen on the Rhine, to whom it has been handed down, tell you that the archbishop was a great miser, and hardhearted, and that when he extended his. hand, it was to bless, not to give; and that during his government it came to pass that a great famine spread through all the districts of the Rhine, and many men died from extreme want; and many unfortunate creatures assembled round Hatton's palace, at Mayence, and cried to him for bread, but he refused to relieve their wants, and treated them as a seditious people. The poor then became more urgent, for the archbishop's granaries were full, and he gave orders that their doors should remain closed; whereupon their distress forced them to rise in arms against their holy governor; and he sent his archers out against them, and the number that was taken was very great. Then Hatton ordered them, as many as there were, men, women, and children, old and young, to be enclosed in a large barn, and the monster with his own hand set fire to its roof, and all who were within were consumed; and Hatton stood by, and gloried in the sight. The stones wept at the sight; but Hatton's heartwas harder than stone, for he laughed at their torture and cries, and he said— "Hear ye the squeaking of the rats ?"" But Heaven heard the cry of the poor, and vengeance fell on the head of this naughty man. But too soon his ear became familiar to the squeak of the rat; what he had before only imagined, he now but too distinctly heard; swarms of these animals entered his castle, so that no one could defend himself from them. The spirit of the phoenix was within them, for as Hatton's vassals slaughtered them they rose again. The earth brought them forth, and threw them amongst the riches of the prelate, as a volcano sends forth its burning stones. And Hatton fled to Bingen, and caused a high tower to be built in the Rhine; and he crossed over in a small boat, and shut himself up therein; but the rats forsook him not-they pursued him with vigour to Bingen, and they swam over to the tower, and climbed to its summit, and fell as a shower on Hatton, and made war with him, and they gnawed and devoured him alive. And when this wicked man was no more, that he should leave no trace of his existence behind him, they traversed the tapestries that were hung within the tower, and wherever they found the name of "Hatton" they gnawed it out; and the name of Hatton was no where to be seen. And to this day the troubled spirit of the prelate hovers on the top of the tower in the shape of a dense fog. J. L. S. THE PILGRIM. (For the Mirror.) TIRED with my long journey, and the rugged and toilsome road across the stupendous Apennines, I had seated myself on a projecting rock, on which the setting sun shed a golden radiance. I determined to enjoy the beauty of the scene, which Nature in one of her most lavish moods had spread beneath my feet. It was redolent of beauty. Before me lay a widely extended champaign country, with the far distant towers of a fortified city in the horizon; beneath me the beautiful Vale of Almeida, with its happy village, its vine - covered cottages, its smoke of hospitality rising to the skies, and its mirthful, innocent inhabitants, congregated on the verdant sward, and mixing in the gay dance; while the breezes of evening bore to my ear sweet sounds of voices, mingled with the exhilarating echo of castanets, and tinkling of guitars. At a little distance from the group was an old man; his long hair fell in ringlets of silver on his shoulders, and he seemed busy in attendance on the tired mules that were grazing near. myself interested by his appearance, and gathering up the remains of my repast, I took my staff and descended. By the time I reached the group, the sunbeams had quitted the valley, but were yet brightly shining on the mountains; the villagers had gathered closer together. A young girl, the strong Spanish character of whose appearance instantly struck me, had seated herself on a little mound; the old people had crept closely round her, and the silverhaired Muleteer was lying at her feet. I stopped to contemplate the pictureAge gazing on Youth-the past commingling with the present. I felt The girl was habited in the half bodice of her country, of bright yellow, trimmed and puffed with black; while, the short, brown petticoat with yellow points; the blue stocking, and the small half shoe with red strings about the slender ankle; the long, braided raven hair; the eye of sparkling, jetty hue; the clear, olive skin; the ruby lip, and even teeth of peculiar whiteness-gave her the very imprint of a Spanish dream. She was tuning her guitar; the old Muleteer's head lay on her lap, his white hair streaming over her black dress, like the first streaks of day, breaking on a dark and stormy night. His arm and sun-burnt withered hand twined around her, and his glassy eye fixed on hers, reminded me of a picture I had seen by Murillo, of Winter basking in the smile of Spring. From the attention with which all the old regarded her, and the preparation the young made to commence their dance with her song, I saw at once she was the Village Minstrel Queen! She sang I stood entranced. There was a native, wild melody-a happy freshness in her voice, which brought tears in my eyes, I knew not why. I slept that night at the old Muleteer's; his grand-daughter repeated her song to me, and with her own taper fingers traced the Spanish words of her ballad; nothing in themselves, but from circumstances rendered dear to me. Her scroll is in my bosom, and the following is a weak translation of the original: GAILY dance on summer nights, Lovers breathing new delights, Happy made by those they love, To music of guitars they move M. B. Retrospective Gleanings. THE two subsequent extracts appropriately belong to this division of The Mirror, although they occur in the volume of the Family Library, recently published, and noticed in our last No. BRITISH DOGS. [Dr. Caius, it seems, wrote a treatise on British Dogs, which was enlarged in 1560.] In this memoir he gives a brief account of the variety of dogs existing, in his time, in this country, and adds a systematic table of them, subjoining, for the instruction of his correspondent, their English names, which are as follow: "Terrare-harier-bludhunde - gasehunde- grehunde- leviner, or lyemmer - tumbler - spainel-setter water-spainel, or fynder-spainel-gentle, or comforter-shepherd's-dog-mastive, or bande dog-wappe― turn-spit dancer." Of his manner of treating his subject, the following may be given as speci mens : The Terrare takes its name from its subterraneous employ, being a small kind of hound, used to force the fox, or other beasts of prey, out of their holes. The Harier derives its name from hunting the hare. The Bludhunde, or Slothunde, was of great use, and in high esteem, among our ancestors. Slot means the impression left by the foot of the dog in the mire. This dog was remarkable for the acuteness of his smell, tracing any wounded game that had escaped from the hunter, and following the footsteps of the thief, let the distance of his flight be ever so great. The bloodhound was in great request on the confines of England and Scotland, when the Borderers were continually preying on the herds and flocks of their neighbours, and was used also by Wallace and Bruce during the civil wars. The Gasehunde would select from the herd the fattest and fairest deer, pursue it by the eye, and, if lost for a time, recover it, and again select it from the herd which it might have rejoined. (This species is now extinct, or, at least, unknown.) The Grehunde was the first in rank among dogs, as appears from the forestlaws of Canute, who enacted, "That no one under the degree of a gentleman should presume to keep a greyhound;" as also from an old Welsh saying, which signifies that you may know a gentleman by his hawke, his horse, and grehunde. Notwithstanding the rank it held among the canine race, Caius mentions, on the authority of Froissart, the following fact, not much to the credit of the fidelity of this species:- When that unhappy prince, Richard the Second, was taken in Flint Castle, his favourite greyhound immediately deserted him, and fawned on his rival, Bolingbroke, as if ne understood and foresaw the misfortunes of his former master. This act of ingratitude, the unfortunate monarch observed, and declared aloud, to be the presage of his future death. The Leviner or Lyemmer.-The first name is derived from the lightness of the kind; the other from the old word Lyemme, a thong; this species being used to be led with a thong, and slipped at the game. This dog hunted both by scent and sight, and in the form of its body observed a medium between the hound and the grehunde. They were chiefly used for the chase of wolves. According to Caius, we are indebted to Spain for the Spainel; but the Comforter, or Spainel-gentle comes from Malta. The Mastive, or Bandedog, of these, he says, three were a match for a bear, and four for a lion. It appears that Great Britain was so noted for its mastiffs, that the Roman Emperors appointed an officer in this island, with the title of Procurator Cynegii, whose sole business it was to breed, and transmit from hence to the amphitheatre, such dogs as would prove equal to the combats exhibited at that place. The mastiff has been described, by other naturalists, as a species of great size and strength, and a very loud barker; whence they have derived its name, mastiff, quasi Mase thefese; it being supposed to frighten away robbers by its tremendous voice. URN BURIAL. BY SIR THOMAS BROWNE. In 1658, the discovery of some ancient urns in Norfolk gave him occasion to write "A Discourse of Sepulchral Urns," in which he treats, with his usual learning, on the funeral rites of the ancient nations, exhibits their various treatment of the dead; and examines the substances found in the urns discovered in Norfolk. There is, perhaps, none of his works which better exemplifies his reading or memory. is scarcely to be imagined how many particulars he has amassed together, in a treatise which seems to have been written for the occasion; and for which, therefore, no materials could have been previously collected. It In his epistle dedicatory to his worthy and honoured friend, Thomas Le Gros, of Crostwick, Esquire, he observes, "when the funeral pyre was out, and the last valediction over, men took a lasting adieu of their interred friends, little expecting the curiosity of future ages should comment upon their ashes, and having no old experience of the duration of their reliques, held no opinion of such after consideration. But who knows the fate of his bones, or how often he is to be buried ?” Ile thinks that the practice of burn, ing and burying the body were equally ancient. According to some tradition, Adam was buried near Damascus, or Mount Calvary; and Abraham and the patriarchs were also buried. Hector was burned before the gates of Troy. Among the Romans, Manlius, the consul, burnt the body of his son; but Numa, by a special clause in his will, was not burnt, but buried; and Remus was also solemnly buried. The two ceremonies seem, therefore, to have been coeval and indifferent. The origin of cremation, or burning, he thinks, may be attributed to the opinions of those ancient philosophers who conceived that fire was the master principle in the composition of our bodies; and, therefore, funeral piles were heaped up, in order to waft them more speedily to their native element. But the Indian Brahmins, he is rather disposed to think, "are too great friends unto fire, for they imagine it the noblest way to end their days in fire, and therefore burn themselves alive." He mentions the different modes of burying as practised by various nations, and remarks that the rites of sepulture do not seem to be confined to man, for there would appear to be some approach to this practice among elephants, cranes, ants, and bees; "the latter civil society," says Browne, "at least carry out their dead, and hath exequies, if not interments." The discovery which gave immediate occasion to this Treatise, he relates in the following words :- "In a field of old Walsingham, not many months past, were digged up between forty and fifty urns, deposited in a dry and sandy soil not a yard deep, not far from one another; not all strictly of one figure, but most answering those described; some containing two pounds of bones, distinguishable in sculls, ribs, jaws, thigh-bones, and teeth, with fresh impressions of their combustion; besides the extraneous substances, like pieces of small boxes, combs handsomely wrought, handles of small brass instruments, brazen nippers, and in one, some kind of opale.' Coals and cinders were dug up in the neighbourhood, from which he conjectures that this was the place (ustrina) for burning their bodies. The urns themselves, he supposes to be Roman, and either containing the ashes of Romans themselves, or of Romanized natives, who had adopted and observed the customs of their conquerors. The spot was not far from a Roman station or garrison, five miles only from Brancaster, an ciently called Brannodunum. He thinks that Britain was formerly very populous; and though many Roman habitations are not known, yet that the Romans were at one time in great number in this country, would appear from the fact that 70,000, with their associates, were slain in the battle in which Queen Boadicea commanded. That Britain was a conquest held in great esteem by the Romans, there can be no doubt; in fact though so far removed from the capital of the empire, no fewer than ten imperial persons had visited it, viz. Cæsar, Claudius, Britannicus, Vespasian, Titus, Adrian, Severus, Commodus, Geta, and Caracalla. Of the precise antiquity of these reliques in Norfolk, nothing could be known, for there were no ancient coins or medals enclosed within the urns, which might lead to any conjecture about the date of the interment. In some which had been dug up" in Spittlefields (Spitalfields,) near London, the coins of Claudius, Vespasian, Commodus, Antoninus, together with lachrymatories, lamps, bottles of liquor, and other articles of affectionate superstition," had been discovered. From the thinness of the bones in the Norfolk urns, particularly of the skulls, the smallness of the teeth, and the slenderness of the ribs and thigh bones, it was not improbable that many of them were the remains of women, or of persons of tender age. After a very learned dissertation upon the funeral customs of the Greeks, the Romans, the Egyptians, the Jews, the Danes, &c., he concludes in favour of cremation, or burning; for, says he, "to be knaved out of our graves, to have our sculls made drinking bowls, and our bones turned into pipes, to delight and sport our enemies, are tragical abominations, escaped in burning burials.' * The high strain of moral reflection with which Browne closes his Treatise on Urn-burial, affords passages of splendid eloquence that cannot easily be equalled. For example "There is no antidote against the opium of time, which temporally considereth all things. Our fathers find their graves in our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be buried in our survivors'. To be read by bare in scriptions, like many in Gruter; to hope for eternity by any metrical epithets, or first letters of our names; to be studied by antiquaries who we were, and have new names given us like many of the mummies, are cold consolations |