bring up their children in this way, or From Life of Dr. Adam Clarke. MASTERS AND SERVANTS. THE late Lord J-e, who was killed in the neighbourhood of Vienna, by an accident, when at Oxford engaged a master to teach him drawing; for tuition, drawing-box, and other materials, a bill was presented to his lordship by the arttist, when he said, "Give the bill, sir, to my servant; I never pay bills myself.' The creditor urged, that a servant could not possibly be competent to judge of the correctness of his charges. His lordship rejoined, that he would not get his money through any other channel. Some days subsequently to this conversation, the servant came to discharge the account, insisting, at the same time, on a deduction of ten per cent, saying that it was an understanding between himself and his master, that he should demand that sum from all with whom they dealt; and that, in consequence, his master paid him no wages. This sapient lord could not see, that in such an arrangement, he was paying his servant treble wages. But what are we to think of the honesty of a man who could condescend to adopt such a mode of engaging a servant? If there are many masters like my Lord J-e, it could not be a matter of surprise that there should be dishonest underlings. That servants are dishonest generally, and that, too, through the medium of tradesmen, will not be denied by any observer of the times, and the events springing out of them." I, some time since, out of commiserative feeling for a discharged butler, entered into a correspondence with Lady M-e. The man had been in her family for seven years, and had faithfully served her, which she was ready to acknowledge but on one occasion was represented to her as having been somewhat inebriated; for this he was dismissed, and although known to her ladyship to be a sober man all through his long service, yet she could never be prevailed on to notice any application of his for a character, He remained three years out of employ, and, at length, being reduced to a state of desperation, he committed suicide. Does her ladyship ever repeat the pray er A The mercy I to others shew, That mercy shew to me!" One more instance of meanness. servant of the Duke of N-'s father and grandfather was left a legacy of 201. by each of them, for his good conduct whilst in their families, but which was never paid. After the lapse of some years, the servant, who had subsequently embarked in trade, through a series of unavoidable losses, failed; when a gentleman, an the individual's claim, wrote a letter to accountant in the city, who was told of the Duke of legacies. urging payment of the He replied, and gave as a charged this claim under the ancestor's reason for non-payment, that if he disbequests, that other legatees would come in with their demands, and with which months since, understanding that this he was not disposed to comply. A few person was now the only surviving legatee but one, and he having again met with heavy afflictions in his domestic affairs, I took up the case, and addressed two letters to his grace. In the first I set forth the justness of his claim, and the unfortunate situation of the claimant ; in the second, I placed the matter before him monies of the individual's character and as one of charity, and offered him testigood reputation from all the respectable tradespeople resident in the same neighbourhood with him for years past. To neither of these appeals to his grace's feelings have I had a reply. How different has been the conduct of another really noble duke, the Duke of P-! On the death of his parent, the claims on the estate amounted to 60,000l., most of which could not legally be enforced; yet he promptly discharged the whole to the uttermost farthing, saying, the good fame and the will of his father was as dear to him as his own. In conclusion, on this person's case and situation being made known by letter to the lastmentioned duke, he, on return of post, enclosed a 20l. note to relieve his necesnot only commiserated his situation, but sities.-Fraser's Mag. Table Talk. ANECDOTE OF THE LATE BISHOP OF DURHAM.-In the year 1806 the bishop published a charge, entitled the "Grounds of Separation between the Churches of England and Rome." It is carefully and judiciously written, and negatives most completely the position many have assumed, that the bishop's intellect was narrow, and his attainments limited. It was assailed by many scribblers of the day, and amongst others, with singular violence by a Roman Catholic, named This gentleman fell, towards the close of his life, into circumstances of extreme indigence. By some accident his situation became known to the bishop. "He is a man of learning, and must be cared for," was his prompt reply. It was no passing emotion of the moment, easily uttered, and as easily forgotten. It was acted upon; for by the bishop's bounty (the man whose motives and intellect he had so grossly impugned) was Mr. supported for many years, and buried. The name of his benefactor was concealed from him to the very last; nor did the bishop himself ever intend the circumstance to be known. Yet he could mark his sense of ingratitude, and more than once evinced the keenness with which he could detect instances where his bounty had been abused. A young artist had painted for him a picture, for which he was liberally paid. He had no patron but the bishop, who, seeing indications of talent about him, protected and fostered him, till he rose to considerable eminence in his profession. In the zenith of his fame the prelate reminded him of his early effort, and expressed a wish that the artist would re-touch it, and make a trifling alteration in the fore-ground, which the bishop suggested. The artist assented, and the picture was sent to his house. When finished, it was returned to his lordship, with the inquiry, "if he was satisfied with the alteration?" "Perfectly, Mr. What am I in your debt?" "Twenty guineas, my lord." (The original cost of the little landscape was five.) The bishop, without a comment, wrote a cheque for the amount, and handed it in silence to the painter. "I am much obliged to you, my lord." "I agree with you, sir, in opinion," replied his lordship, with a bow, which told the painter their intimacy and intercourse were ended. ANECDOTE OF PRINCE GEORGE OF CAMBRIDGE. Playing one day alone with the young Count L. in the principal drawing-room of the palace, they heedlessly upset and destroyed a very costly piece of bijouterie, which the duchess had expressely charged them neither to touch nor approach. On her return, her royal highness discovered the accident, and demanded how it had happened. "I," said Prince George, stepping boldly forward, "I did it, mamma." On being subsequently asked why he had taken the entire blame on himself, when his companion was equally implicated, he replied—“ Because I was the eldest, and ought to be punished most; and because," he added, "I looked in L.'s face, and thought he was about to deny it, and to say what was not true!" ORIGIN OF USING BOATS FOR CARRYING HEAVY WEIGHT.-A remarkable instance of natural strength of mind and of untutored genius occured as connected with the building of Dover Harbour. The conveyance of the stone from Folkstone was found to be very expensive, for in those non-march-of-intellect days, it was thought that land-carriage was the only means of conveyance for a heavy material like stone. A poor Fisherman, named Young, who was perfectly innocent of all axioms of natural philosophy and the specific gravity of bodies, conceived, however, that water might be rendered serviceable to their views, in being made to convey even these large and heavy substances. His first experiment would have delighted the heart of Dr. Wollaston, it was on a scale so small and dapper. He tried whether a heavy body, like stone, could be borne up by water; and if it could, what quantity would float in half a walnut-shell. Finding his idea correct, he next tried the experiment in an egg-shell, and then in a small boat. The truth of his supposition being now proved, he communicated his success to Sir John Thompson, who acted as chief engineer, and who saw the vast benefit he should derive from it, both in a saving of labour and expense. He, therefore, ordered a large vessel, which they called a gabboth, to be built immediately; and so pleased was the King with the ingenuity of Young, that he ordered him to receive a pension of four-pence a day for life. VANITY CHECKED. -The following is an instance of Mr. Hall's manner of checking inordinate vanity. A preacher of this character having delivered a sermon in his hearing, pressed him with a disgusting union of self-complacency and indelicacy, to state what he thought of the sermon. Mr. Hall remained silent for some time, hoping that his silence would be rightly interpreted; but this only caused the question to be pressed with greater earnestness. Mr. Hall, at length, said "There was one very fine passage, sir." "I am rejoiced to hear you say so. Pray sir, which was it?"-" Why sir, it was the passage from the pulpit to the vestry."-Dr Gregory's Memoir of Robert Hall. Illustrated Article. THE LAST OF THE BURNINGS.* A NORWICH RECORD. By Edward Lancaster. On the summit of a gently rising ground whose foot was kissed by the great river Ouse, there stood, in the year 17-, a small cottage of a wild and romantic appearance, almost covered by a variety of wild creeping plants, so that little of the primitive structure remained open to view, and, but for the smoke which tranquilly ascended from the chimney, few persons would have discovered its existence. The occupants were an aged and widowed female, and her son, in his twenty-second year, a fisherman. His father, Luke Dangerfield, had been in tolerably wealthy circumstances, and Paul, the son, received an education which might have fitted him for a higher station in life; but sad reverses reduced the old man's finances very low, and entering the navy, he was slain in the Paul Dangerfield, by the most unflinching industry as a labourer, gaFrom the Lady's Mag. VOL. XI. wars. See page 20 thered together a sufficient sum of money to purchase a fishing-boat, in conjunction with an old schoolfellow and companion, Mark Inderling. He formed the resolution of toiling night and day, until his mother was placed beyond the blighting influence of poverty, and he determined to soothe her declining years by all the affection which a son could bestow. A steady adherence to these principles made Paul become a great favourite with the inhabitants of Lynn, his neighbouring town, and no fish was deemed half so good as that which came from his net. Mark Inderling was a mild good humoured young man, similarly circumstanced with Paul, having to support his parents, who were prevented by age from pursuing any laborious avocation. His was an every-day character. His good qualities were dormant, unless stimulated by an example, and he might then persevere in a good course; whilst Paul, although generally the first in forming resolves, was of a vacillating turn. The friends were one evening returning with the produce of their day's labour, and the wind being leeward they hoisted 284 sail and tranquilly watched the sun sinking in crimson glory below the waters. Paul was, nevertheless, soon weary of this magnificent sight, and though he might have taken a transient pleasure in gazing on the scene before him, yet he would gladly have left it for a more bustling occupation. "You seem vexed, brother Paul," remarked Inderling, observing the impatience which sat upon his brow. "Like enough," returned Dangerfield; "I'm tired of this humdrum work." Then, with a sudden transition of manner which frequently characterised his conversation, he added, in a cheerful tone, "There'll be choice sport in town to-morrow." "All the better for those who can enjoy it; but what do you allude to ?" said Mark. "Why, what else but the fair, to be sure. Wont to-morrow be the feast of St. Margaret, the day appointed as one of fun and jollity?". 66 True, I recollect now;" rejoined Mark; "but what is that to us, Paul, who cannot spare a day from labour?" "I'll tell you what, Mark," returned Dangerfield, to-day's draught will put a few bright shillings into my pouch, and if that won't carry me through a few hours without work, I'll never cast net more." I should say spend it and be jolly, if no one depended upon you; but what will your mother do? She must not starve, and the next day, Sunday, you will lose two days by not attending the nets tomorrow." "If the whole town starve, I'll not miss the fair to-morrow," said Paul decisively, and wishing for Mark's countenancing his idleness, he drew a forcible picture of the pleasure to be enjoyed in going, and concluded with an awful insinuation that, if his more prudent companion remained behind, he should consider meanness and avarice the cause of his ab sence. Inderling, a little nettled, mused for some moments, and said, "To speak the truth, Paul, I'm as eager to be there as yourself; yet I can't, with a good conscience, without leaving something to make the old folks at home comfortable: so I'll go to Master Anderson, the sailmaker, and if he will give me a job, I'll sit up all night, and take my pleasure tomorrow instead." Paul, thus outshone in filial piety, bit his lip; but false pride prevented him from following the good precept, and he carelessly closed the conversation by laughingly designating Inderling, "a steady old file." Dangerfield's faults and excellences sprang alike from a thirst after pre-eminence. He was one of those daring spirits which ever love to be foremost; but the basis of his feelings was self-gratification, and that which contributed most towards it became for a time his darling passion. When his father died, he heard so many instances of acts performed by sons for their widowed mothers' sakes, that he became ambitious to excel them all, in order to hear the pleasing notes of flattery sounded in his ears. Hence a sudden transition from inactivity to action. The novelty of commendation wearing off, Paul's restless mind sought some other field wherein to display his pre-eminence, and none appeared more available than that of wrestling and other athletic exercises, which the forthcoming fair would afford. With these views, Paul Dangerfield, accompanied by his friend Mark Inderling, proceeded to the fair; and after the companions had successfully displayed their prowess in several trials of strength, accident led them to a marquee, where the two prettiest girls in Lynn were daneing, in company with their rustic swains and relatives. Our heroes dearly loved a beautiful face; and it was not long ere they secured the hands of the attractive creatures for the next set. Dangerfield's partner was a lovely girl, two years his junior in age, and daughter to a respectable widow, named Howard, who kept an inn in the town. She had hitherto passed through life as a butterfly does a summer's day, and had never yet experienced rankling care. Surrounded by none but friends, and nurtured by a cheerful and indulgent mother, not only was she perfectly happy, but possessed the fascinating art of imparting a portion of such happiness to all who shared her society, how melancholy soever they might previously be. No miracle, then, that Paul soon became animated with reciprocal sensations; and, as he marked the arch yet innocent glances that shot mirthfully from her light blue eye, and listened to the notes of a voice which breathed nought but melody, he thought she would form a companion ten thousand times preferable to his lone, griefworn, and, alas! neglected mother. On the other hand, Lucy, for that was her name, suffered a smile of gratitication to play unrepressed upon her vermeil lip, whilst attending to the little expressions of gallantry whispered by her partner; and she permitted him to lead her to a seat when they had gone through the prescribed number of dances together, rather than dance with any other partner. Inderling, too, found his an equally attractive choice, and in some respects superior. Cecilia Bentley, the charming creature in question, belonged to that order of beauties emphatically termed angelic: and a dignity of soul, an acuteness of observation, softened by a purity of sentiment, were so forcibly depicted upon each lovely feature, that she might have equally served as a model for Juno, Pallas, or Diana. She had been reared and educated by a maiden lady of considerable property, who always expressed an intention of providing handsomely for her protege, until a young fortune-hunting adventurer was lucky enough to persuade the old lady to change her name, upon which Miss Bentley was restored, without any ceremony, to her parents. With enow of accomplishments to ensure her, by exercising them, a moderate independence, and sufficient girlish good humour to enjoy the harmless amusements of the middle classes, Cecilia rejoiced rather than repined at her emancipation from the formalities that had hitherto restrained her natural flow of spirits, and she hailed her entrance into the arena of life with an enthusiasm equal to that displayed by a traveller returning from the ice-bound regions of the north, when first he bursts upon the enchanting beauties of a verdure-clad landscape. The father of Miss Bentley had been master of a king's ship; but owing to wounds which disabled him, he retired on a pension to his native town, where, with the assistance of his wife's needle, he contrived to support existence, until his daughter was once more with him to add to his comforts. But to return. Dancing continued until nearly ten o'clock, when, by some accident, a part of the tent caught fire; and, although the flames were immediately extinguished, it gave our heroes an opportunity of displaying their zeal in providing for the safety of their partners, who, becoming separated, by this means, from those who had accompanied them to the fair, gladly accepted the young men's offer of seeing them home in safety. This circunstance speedily led to a friendship between the parties, and, in another year, that intimacy ripened into love. The estimation in which Dangerfield was |