r of the Mirror.) orward a very curious ent feudal times for inuable work, the MIRrrect drawing, copied - curious and ancient supposed to be about conjectured, about that ecome the property or eford college, in whose ver since remained. ne of the armour, it apthe time of our Henry I of brass, stands about h, and is nearly twelve The knight has evisader's helmet, with the orming the sight piece; mail, and chausses of : shield on his left arm word on the right hand , and without the crossse is ornamented with st-band, which has apattached to it; on the rse is a projecting tube; he helmet is open, and The whole of the ; hollow; and whether ended for use as a lamp,

ver.

of holding hot water,

The Sketch Book.

No. XXXV.

MERRY ENGLAND ON MAY
MORNING.

MAY, May!-our heart leaps, and we grow ten years younger at the word. It is really no mean thing, in the commonplace world of prose in which we live, to feel a stimulus awakening what little of poetry and love that are left us. May has been since the beginning of the world, the season of love and of flowers, the earth and the heart then sprout with their loveliest and most amiable blossoms. May is, time out of mind, the poet's holiday; and nature looks on her favourite with her kindest eyes, and puts on her birth-day suit to bid him welcome. Surely our forefathers never left us a sounder proof of their wisdom than in consecrating the most delicious season of the year to the renewal of loves and friendships, as if the best feelings of the heart and the flowers of the earth took, at the same time, a new lease of existence.

I do not know how it is, but with all the freshening of feeling which the sim

thing but the truth, is, we have ceased to be a poetical country. We are, in serious prose, a nation of stock-jobbers, political economists, and shopkeepers. Let us take a spring back of a few centuries, when Spenser, Shakspeare," Rare Ben," Middleton, Beaumont, and a host of lesser lights, spread a charm over the face of nature, softened the harsh shadows of reality, and gave immortality to the joys by which they were surrounded. Let us compare a May morning as they described, to the one usually spent by us. Early after midnight, troops of youths and lasses, donned in their holiday attire, repaired, ere the sun gave them light, to the nearest wood. Here the hawthorn was plundered of its choicest blossoms, and the young votaries of love and nature, decorated with flowers and Maybuds, bent their steps homeward, making their windows and door-ways bear testimony of their early rising. A May-pole was then erected, adorned with garlands of flowers-the merriest man was lord of the revels, and the prettiest girl queen of the day. Dance, song, and glee, lent wings to the hours, and the hushing twilight discovered our forefathers in all their ignorance and all their happiness. Occasionally, the sports would be varied by trials of skill, in pitching the bar, or the more national and ambitious display of archery. This was not all confined to the male part of the revellers—the ladies had their share of the entertainment. Although they took no part in the contest, they were present as the arbitresses, and awarded the prizes to the victor. Each youthful aspirant felt his sinews braced, and his blood flow in a warmer current, by each kind and encouraging look thrown on him by his lady-love, as she admired the athletic turn of his limbs, his manly grace, and vigorous energy. Then would the days of merry old Sherwood come across the recollection of the party; and Robin Hood, Maid Marian, and his foresters green, find willing and efficient representatives in a rural masque. The sports of the evening would generally finish under the May-pole ;-the young would dance round it to the enlivening sounds of the pipe and tabor, while the old, as they sat looking on, and passing to each other the cheerful bowl, would, in recounting their youthful pranks, feel the sun of revelry thawing the frost about their hearts, and, remembering they were once young, forget entirely that they had grown old :—

grass,

And plain beneath Heaven's face; O hills and mountains,

Vallies and streams and fountains: banks of green

Myrtles and palm serene, ivies and bays.
And ye who warm'd our lays, spirits o' the woods
Echoes and solitudes and lakes of light;
O quivered virgins bright, Pans rustical,
Satyrs and Sylvans all, Dryads, and ye
That up the mountains be, and ye beneath
In meadow or flowery heath-ye are alone. "'*

Alone! well we may say "those days are gone " -we are every day less and less Merry England. The civil wars of the revolution, while it stained our soil with their crimson tide, dried up the spirit of romance and poetry in our ancestors' veins. As we have become enlightened, we have ceased to be poetical; we have lost poetry, and we have gained steamengines. The peasants of the most ro

mantic and secluded of our counties would rather spend their holiday at a dog or a man-fight, or in the smoky kitchen of a public-house, than join in the gayest sports of the loveliest of May-mornings. And it is not they alone from whose hearts the bloom is gone. Our modern ladies and gentlemen would faint at the vulgar smell of a hawthorn bush in bloom, and would rather be suffocated in a select party of three hundred fashionables in a crowded drawing-room, than join a masque in which the Sydneys and Raleighs, and the fine spirits of the olden time loved to mingle. We no longer regard our fields and meadows with the love of nature, but look upon them with an eye to the rent-roll ;-not with the thought of their flowers and glades, but how much they will bring an acre. A sigh and a farewell for the days that are gone, and—

"Back to busy life again."

May! thou art still as fragrant and blooming as when nature first formed thee, the young year's favourite! Thy fields are as green, thy flowers as freshthy skies are as blue, and thy streams are as clear-but, oh! thou art become the shadow of a name! It is our hearts, and not thou, which are altered.

But if we are so grown the slaves of circumstances as not to be qualified to enjoy the luxuries of a May-morning in reality, let us do so in imagination. If our readers want assistance, let them get to heart the following verses, in which is endeavoured to be infused a little of the freshness and simplicity of the olden time :

* Leigh Hunt, from the Italian of Saunazaro.

It is May, it is May !

And the flowers obey

expected. Not having an other busi. ness there, I used to strøl from one court to the other, sometimes listening to the civil cases, and sometimes to the crimi. nal, and not unfrequently I took my stand upon the steps leading to the hall. door, and there watched the various groups around me. Upon the morning of the second day, I was standing at my usual place upon the steps, when my at tention was particularly attracted towards some country people who were collected upon the pavement below. There were five of them; three men and two women. Of the latter, one dressed decently in a long red cloak, was crying very bitterly, her face hid in her handkerchief, and leant upon the arm of an elderly man, who stood firmly upright, his ruddy sunburnt countenance fixed in an expression made up of sorrow, anger, and contempt. His hat seemed slouched over his face as if to prevent any one from recognising him, but it was not sufficiently large to conceal either his dark fiery eye, or the

Yet they spring at the touch of the sun,

And opening their sweet eyes one by one, In a language of beauty seem all to say, And of perfume-'tis May, it is May !

A VISIT TO THE ASSIZES.

THOSE who frequent the courts of justice, and are often present at the trial of causes, soon become familiar with the various scenes which are presented upon such occasions; but to me, who never attend the assizes, except when summoned upon a jury, which does not occur oftener than once in three years, the appearance of a crowded court, and the many, very many sights of joy and misery which a common observer cannot but notice in an assize town, are all matters of high interest. Within the last week I have been present at many such scenes. Having a small freehold in our county, I was selected as a special juryman, and attended to try an important cause, but the trial having been postponed until the last, I was obliged to remain at two days longer than I

of his face. Immediately opposite to them stood a man and woman seemingly of lower rank in life, and of a very dif ferent character; the woman, who was dirty in the extreme, although with some few patches of finery about her dress, lolled carelessly, throwing her eyes around her in a manner which seemed to prove how far she was removed from anything like the sorrows which the other woman so strongly manifested. The man stood with his arms crossed, his hat placed just upon the top of his head, and his illlooking ruffian-like countenance indicating something very like defiance. The remaining member of the group stood between the men, and from his appear ance I concluded him to be an attorney's clerk. When I had observed them a few minutes, the latter member of the party left them, and made his way to wards the hall, the others remaining as before. "Zounds!" exclaimed the rough-looking man, "this is nothing of a scrape! I have been in many a worse I, Poll ?" 'un, and always got clear off. Haven't

Poll nodded her assent.

the old man;

"I don't

know what you call a scrape then," said " is't no scrape to be made in the calendar as a thief, to be brought the gaze of all the town; to be printed from prison to hall, and sent from hall

to

?" He paused, the word seem. ed to choke him. "Great God! that ever a son of mine should stand in the dock and hold up his hand as a felon! Nay, nay, woman," turning to his wife, who seemed bursting with grief, "don't

e cry, now don't ye cry." Tears rolled own the poor man's cheek as he spake, nd his wife, for such I judged the woan leaning on his arm, sobbed bitterly. Oh! there's no occasion for ye to take n 30 about 'un; Poll and I'll swear as e was at home all night.”

"What though you will ?" exclaimed he other man, raising himself, and peaking indignantly, "what though you vill? Think ye your oaths will be taken, e who have been at every tread-mill in England, and whose neck has twenty imes been within a yard of the gallowsrope? What good will your oaths do ?" "I don't see why my oath 'ant as good as any other man's," he answered blusteringly, as if seemingly inclined to quarrel.

"I do," answered the old man; 66 were upon the jury, I wouldn't believe one word you said. You swore to me the last time saw you, that you knew naught of my lad, and at that very time Kate Cicely and him were in your house, and you knew it."

"Pooh," answered he, "I wan't going to give up my friend."

"Your friend!" echoed the old man, "how came he to be your friend? You decoyed him from me-you and that harlot Kate, and now you have placed him where you should be, to stand the brunt for you. Your friend!"

Ere the other had time to reply, their former companion joined them, and whispering to them, they all walked towards the court-house. Jack Hasper, for that turned out to be the name of the ruffian-looking fellow, and the woman who was with him, walked on first; the old man and his wife followed slowly; I felt too great interest in what I had heard not to walk after them. The woman dried her eyes, and they proceeded towards the top of the steps. I perceived the old man become more and more feeble-step by step he moved slowly on -he reached the top-he approached the outer door of the court-"I can go no further," he remarked, "I should die if I were to see him. Oh, God! oh, God! be merciful!" Poor man! he clasped his hands before his face, and fell forwards upon the door in the most dreadful agony. Tears poured down his cheeks, and his whole frame seemed convulsed. His wife, for a moment, forgot her own sorrow, in her anxiety for her husband; she led him gently towards the corner farthest from the door, through which the busy crowd were passing to

and fro.

He still held his hands before

his face, and crept close to the wall, as if afraid that any one should recognise

ním. I had remained at some distance from them, but I felt that my observance was intrusive, and therefore walked on into the court, whispering to the woman as I passed, that if she needed any assistance she would find me near the door.

At the bar was a young man of rather simple, ingenuous appearance, and a woman considerably older, pretty looking, but evidently artful and designing. They were arraigned upon a charge of theft, committed in a dwelling-house, and having pleaded "Not Guilty," the trial commenced. They were indicted as man and wife, and it appeared from the evidence that they had lived together as such. The theft had been committed in the night, about twelve o'clock; the things stolen were some silver spoons, some linen, and several culinary utensils; an apron belonging to Kate Cicely was found in the house which was robbed, and by its means all the stolen articles were traced several days afterwards to the residence of Jack Hasper, with whom Charles Mangrove and Kate Cicely were living. Hasper was immediately taken into custody, but Kate Cicely, in order to release him, laid an accusation against Charles Mangrove, and made a confession purporting that she and Charles had committed the robbery, and brought the articles to Hasper's house. Charles vehemently denied this to be true, and protested his ignorance of the whole matter; but he and his wife, for such Kate Cicely was considered to be, were, notwithstanding his protestation, committed to prison to take their trial. When placed at the bar, Charles Mangrove presented a most pitiable appearance, pale and emaciated, the consequence of irregular living, long confinement, and regret for his follies. He held down his head as if fearing to look around, lest he should recognise some one to whom he was known. His com

panion, on the contrary, stood up, bold and unabashed, and paid great attention to the evidence detailed against her.

At a

As the trial proceeded, the evidence became rather in Charles Mangrove's favour, and every now and then he gave a hurried look upwards, but quickly relapsed into his former situation. time when he gave one of these glances, I happened to be looking at him, and perceived a woman's face just appearing behind the dock; she seemed eagerly to catch every word that was uttered, and at the same time kept her eyes fixed upon him. It was his mother. As he looked round, their eyes met; she withdrew her face; he started, gazed a moment, and