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"When found, make a note of."-CAPTAIN CUTTLE.


No. 305.

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WILLIAM BLAKE, Artist and Poet.

A Critical Essay by ALGERNON CHARLES

The coloured illustrations to this book have all been prepared by a careful hand from the original drawings painted by Blake and his Wife. They offer some most interesting specimens of Blake's different styles, and are altogether different from ordinary book illustrations.


POEMS, 98.

SONG OF ITALY, 3s. 6d.



London: JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, 74, Piccadilly.

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NOTES:-The Lord Mayor's Show, 341 -Death of the
Maiden of Norway, 342-Queen Elizabeth's Amyot, British
Museum Duplicate, Ib.- Religious Sects, 343 - Pride of
Ancestry, Ib. -Beetle or Wedge - Crannoges-"Endea-
vour" as an Active Verb -Yankee Cider and Blessed
Cushions Stalactites and Stalagmites - Rev. Wm. Cole,
D.D.-"To Sleep like a Top"-Seals, when introduced
into England - Scotch Settlers in Ulster, 344.
QUERIES:- Bird and Povey Families-Lieutenant Brace
-Thomas Chester - Broken China- Henry Wm. Cole -
Crown Presentations - Baron D'Aunneau-Dorchester,
co. Oxford- Monsieur De Joux - Engraved Portrait
wanted-An Etching Query-" Giving Law" or "Giving a
Little Law" -Long Tongue Charles Mathews the Elder
- Medical Query - Name wanted-Old Saying- French
Portrait-Prior: Psalm lxxxviii. - Roman Surveys - St.
Ephrem Scotch Pedigree - Sharks Matthius and
Andrew Symson-Jenner Queries - Tom Spring and the
Prince Regent - Whart out: Sackless of Art, &c., 346.
QUERIES WITH ANSWERS: - Philological Literature -John
Knox-The Mother of Dean Swift - Britt., or Brit. -
Index to Serial Literature-Registrum Sacrum Anglica-
num-"A Godlie Garden"- Law of Evidence-Pumpkin
Pie, 349.

REPLIES:-Palace of Holyrood House, 351- Mr. James Telfer, 352-Salad, Ib.-Portraits of Bellini and Donizetti, 353- Early Quakerism, 354- Homeric Traditions and Language, Ib. The Soldier who_pierced Christ, 355 -Class, 356- Hobbes, the Surgeon, 16. - White used for Mourning, 357- Philological Society's Dictionary, 358Thomas Love Peacock-Greek Patriarchs of Constantinople-Inscription in Melrose Churchyard, &c., 358. Notes on Books, &c.



Perhaps your readers may like to know what a satirist wrote about the pageant in the reign of William and Mary, or Queen Anne. No date is given in the State Poems, which is to be regretted; and the only mode of progress alluded to is "On Jennets . As tame all as Lambs "whence, "Gowns hung draggling thro' every Puddle." S. H. H.



St. John's Wood.

"O Raree Show! O Pretty Show! or, The City Feast. "On a day of great Triumph, when Lord of the City Does swear to be honest and just, as he's witty; And rides thro' the Town that the Rabble may shout


For the wonderful Merits he carries about him;
Being an honester Man, I'll be bold for to say,
Than has sat in the Chair this many a day;
Like the rest of the Fools from the Skirts of the Town,
I trotted to gaze at his Chain and his Gown,
With Legs in a Kennel quite up to the middle
In Dirt; with a Stomach as sharp as a Needle,
I stood in the Cold clinging fast to a Stump,
To see the Wiseakers march by in their Pomp:
At last heard a Consort of Trumpets and Drums,
And the Mob crying out, Here he comes, here he comes.
I was carry'd by the Crowd from the place that I

stood in,

And the Devil to do there was all of a sudden :
The first that appear'd was a great Tom-a-Doodle,
With a Cap like a Bushel to cover his Noddle,
And a Gown that hung draggling thro' every Puddle;
With a Sword and a Mace, and such Pageantry Pride,
And abundance of formal old Foppery beside.

A Troop of grave Elders O then there came by,
In their Blood-colour'd Robes, of a very deep Dye,
On Jennets the best that the Town could afford,
As tame all as Lambs, and as fine as my Lord:
With very rich Saddles, gay Bridles and Cruppers,
Would ne'er have been made but for such City-

Like Snails o'er a Cabbage they all crept along,
Admir'd by their Wives, & huzza'd by the Throng.

The Companies follow'd, each Man in his Station, Which ev'ry Fool knows is not worth Observation, All cloth'd in Furs in an antient Decorum,

Like Bears they advanc'd with their Bagpipes before 'em ;

With Streamers and Drums, and abundance of fooling,
Not worth the repeating, or yet ridiculing;
So I'll bid adieu to the Tun-belly'd Sinners,


And leave 'em to trudg thro the Dirt to their Dinners.
At last I consider'd 'twas very foul Play,
That a Poet should fast on a Festival Day:
I therefore resolv'd it should cost me a Fall,
But that I would drink my Lord's Health at a Hall.
For why mayn't a Poet, thought I, be a Guest,
As welcome as Parson, or Fool at a Feast,
For the sport of a Tale, or the sake of a Jest ?
I mix'd with the Musick, and no one withstood me,
And so justled forward as clever as could be:
I pass'd to a very fine Room thro a Porch;
'Twas as wide as a Barn, and as high as a Church,
Where Cloths upon Shovel-board Tables were spread,
And all things in order for Dinner were laid;
The Napkins were folded on ev'ry Plate,
Into Castles and Boats, and the Devil knows what;
Their Flaggons and Bowls made a very fine show,
And Sweetmeats, like Cuckolds, stood all in a row.
They walk'd, and they talk'd; after some Consultation
The Beadle stood up, and he made Proclamation,
That no one presume, of a Member, till after
He 'as din'd, to bring in his Wife or his Daughter.
Then in come the Pasties, the best of all Food,
With Pig, Goose, and Capon, and all that was good;
Then Grace soon was said, without any delay,
And as hungry as Hawks they sat down to their Prey.
The Musick struck up, such a Boree advancing,
As the Polanders pip'd when their Cubs were a dancing.
Then each tuck'd his Napkin up under his Chin,
That his Holyday Band might be kept very clean,
And pinn'd up his Sleeves to his Elbows, because
They should not hang down, and be greas'd in the

Then all went to work, with such rending and tearing, Like a Kennel of Hounds on a quarter of Carr'on. When done with the Flesh, then they claw'd off the Fish, With one Hand at Mouth, and the other in Dish. When their Stomachs were clos'd, what their Bellies deny'd,

Each clap'd in his Pocket to give to his Bride;
With a Cheese-cake and Custard for my little Johnny,
And a handful of Sweatmeats for poor Daughter Nanny.
Then down came a Blade, with a Rattle in's Skull,
To tickle their Ears when their Bellies were full:
After three or four Hems to clear up his Voice,
At every Table he made them a Noise
Of twenty-four Fidlers were all in a Row;

Tho the Singer meant Cuckolds, I'd have 'em to know:
Then London's a gallant Town, and a fine City,
'Tis govern'd by Scarlet; the more is the pity.

When Claret and Sack had troul'd freely about, And each Man was laden within and without: The Elders arising, all stagger'd away,

And in sleeping like Hogs spent the rest of the Day." From Poems on State-Affairs, vol. iii. p. 338.


When and where did this royal princess Margaret, Queen of Scots, die; and where was she interred? The Princess Margaret of Norway was only daughter of Eric II., King of Norway (12801299), by his wife Margaret, daughter of Alexander III., King of Scots (1249-1286): the marriage contract was dated July 25, 1281; and the princess, having proceeded to Norway, was formally united to her youthful husband, then only fourteen years old, and crowned as Queen of Norway in the month of August following. She died in Feb. 1283, shortly after giving birth to the "Maiden of Norway," who was acknowledged as heiress of Scotland and the Hebrides, Man, Tynedale, and Penrith, in an assemblage of the Scottish estates at Scone, February 5, 1283, in default of male issue of her grandfather, King Alexander. The untimely and violent death of that gallant monarch on March 16, 1286, raised "Margaret, the Maiden of Norway," to the Scottish throne; and a parliament, assembled on April 11 of that year, appointed a regency to govern the kingdom during the minority of the infant queen. The troubles which subsequently arose in Scotland occasioned a civil war between the parties of Bruce and Balliol; and for two years a war, almost unnoticed by our historians, continued its ravages in the country. It was finally determined to send for the young queen from Norway; and Edward I., King of England, secretly procured a dispensation, dated October 3, 1289, from Pope Nicolas IV., for the marriage of his son, the Prince of Wales, to the young Queen of Scots, as they were within the forbidden degrees of consanguinity. But while Scotland was preparing to welcome the expected arrival of their youthful sovereign, on whom so many fair hopes depended, Queen Margaret was seized with a mortal illness on her passage from Norway, and died at Kirkwall, in the Orkney Islands, in September, 1290, when only in the eighth year of her age and fifth of her nominal reign: her remains were interred in the cathedral of St. Magnus, at Kirkwall. This is the account of the Maiden's death, according to the generality of our historians; but several other statements of the facts are also found recorded. Annals of England (Parkers, Oxford, 1858, i. 349),

states that

"She remained in Norway with her father until 1290, when a marriage having been arranged for her with Edward, Prince of Wales, she sailed for Scotland, but died on her way in the Orkneys, Oct. 7, and was buried in the cathedral of St. Magnus at Kirkwall.”

Here a different date is given, 7th of October, instead of that usually assigned, in September. Wyntoun's Oryginale Cronikil of Scotland (Macpherson's edit., 1795, vol. ii. book viii. p. 13), assigns a violent death to "that madyn swet," and that she " was put to dede be martyry"; but this

appears a very improbable circumstance, although Winton must have had, when he wrote, some grounds for the allegation: however his editor, David Macpherson, in his Notes on the Eighth Book, on this passage (1. 98), says:

"Wyntoun is mistaken here. The young queen was upon her passage to Britain, and dyed in Orkney (Torfæi Hist. Norweg., vol. iv. p. 381; Mat. Westm., p. 414; Knyghton, col. 2468), probably in South Ronaldsay, where there is a safe harbour called St. Margaret's Hope, seemingly from this event. It is pretty certain that St. Margaret never was there, but the superior celebrity of that holy queen has transferred to her the name, which belonged to her descendant and namesake."

From the above it is evident that neither the date, nor exact place, of the Maiden's death is recorded by any competent authority. Surely at the present day, when such light is thrown on many dark points of history, this historical question might be elucidated more satisfactorily. Perhaps some local antiquary in the Orkneys-say Rev. Charles Clouston, minister of Sandwick. (already known as an archæologist), or the parish minister of South Ronaldshay-might see this query, and bring his personal knowledge of the locality to bear on the point. The fact of there being a harbour called "St. Margaret's Hope" in the island of South Ronaldshay could, anyway, be cleared up; and whether any tradition still exists there regarding the death of the "Maiden of Norway" in that remote corner of Britain.

A. S. A.

Allahabad, E. Indies.


I bought, some years ago, at a stall, a copy of Amyot's Vies des Hommes Illustres, etc., par Plutarque de Charonée: a Paris, par Vascoran, 1567. It is a very fine copy, in six volumes, old calf and rich gilt edges, and stamped with a crown and rose with the letters "E. R." It was sold as a duplicate from the British Museum in 1818. Did this belong to Queen Elizabeth? The reason for my asking is this:-In the Catalogue of the Choicer Portion of the Libri Library, sold by Sotheby in 1859, No. 813, is a copy of Demetrius Phalereus, described as being in very fine binding, and formerly in the library of "Henry, Prince of Wales"-son of James I. The notice in the catalogue adds:

"Specimens of Prince Henry's Library are extremely rare. This volume was sold in 1818 as a duplicate by the British Museum."

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It would be interesting to know why such books were sold, what prices they fetched, and what duplicates were retained in their stead, and a list of all that were sold. My Amyot's Plutarch, and M. Libri's Demetrius, both having been sold in 1818, would seem to indicate that there must

have been a more than usual ruthless weeding in that year. Allow me to make one suggestion. I do not think that the mere stamping a book"Duplicate, B. M. 1818," under the stamp "Museum Britannicum "--is a sufficient protection to the integrity of the library. It appears to me that such a stamp might be easily counterfeited, and books purloined. A surer mode would be either never to sell duplicates, or, if they must be got rid of, for the chief librarian, or some authorised officer, to sign an autograph reason for the sale. The discovery of a forgery of signature would be easier than that of a mere stamp. With the highest of possible characters, and the most sterling integrity, in the case of a very eminent librarian (not a hundred years ago), books were sold at his sale after his death which he had taken home to collate, and coins to examine, which he had no intention to retain; but death overtook him, and they are irreparably gone! This was an accident, but many private libraries and cabinets are enriched by no accident. Where unique volumes and rare coins, special bindings, &c., are sold, the auctioneer should be held responsible for the pedigree, and we should have more caution exercised. R. H.

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Not even excepting the Americans, who in their trips to this hemisphere seldom fail to visit the old homes of their emigrant forefathers for the purpose of collecting genealogical information, the pride of ancestry has in a greater or less degree prevailed in all ages, and among all nations. And, moreover, so anxious have many undoubtedly ancient and illustrious English families been to include amongst their ancestors, either lineal or collateral, those who have chanced to play some part, no matter how unworthy or infamous, in the history of their country, that they have not hesitated to claim those whom others would be only too glad to ignore altogether.

So peculiarly illustrative of this is the following unpublished anecdote, which was told me by a veteran Waterloo officer who was present on the occasion referred to, that I ask a corner for it; though in doing so I must disclaim wishing to depreciate a stock that has been for many generations highly and justly esteemed : —

Sir Walter Scott was dining at a country house in Hampshire where, amongst the guests invited to meet him, was the then baronet of the Tyrrell family. The conversation turned on the anti

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