and place of residence being Wymondham. This rebellion lasted from the 7th of July, A. D. 1549, to the following 26th of August; and along with Devonshire and Cornish rebellions, existing nearly at the same time, cost King Edward 27,3301. 7s. 7d. The engraving represents the only remaining wall of Kett's Castle, upon Moushold-heath, as seen from a neighbouring hill, St. James's. St. Michael's chapel was founded by Bishop Herbert, in the place of one bearing the same name upon Tombland, which he pulled down, and probably was not more than fifteen yards long and six wide: a little to the south of it, on an opposite hill, stood the church and priory of St. Leonard, founded by the same prelate before he built the cathedral. All that now remains of the earl of Surrey's palace is an old piece of stone wall, in which is an arch, and near it a small farmhouse, the site of the original buildings being ploughed over. A short time since, an ancient well was discovered thereabouts, and from it was brought up a boatswain's whistle of solid gold. M. L. B. HOPE. (For the Mirror ) MARK happy childhood's cherub smile, And lulls the voice of reason. To where our every thought should rise, While yet on earth we linger. That smile will ne'er delusive prove With heavenly radiance beamingBut fix our wand'ring thoughts above, , suggest the in the proper connected the with the first 1 with the seF both at the were enabled sion, all the e. This was Cicero and but it seems orious way of intilian him. sion to it, we course places irst place, in st incredible nown at all t it does not tor says, as ■his Art of setting forth : oy appears: hize in tears, the strain, el your pain. ast gesture, an held in -e regarded hose of no truth are mplified in ly of men, amand the hey please thers may any notice y be in- of being sequence by every y, much è capacity loud: And stones and brands in rattling vollies fly, They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear; Again, we read in Machiavel, that when THE LADY'S SONG FOR HER LOVER. (For the Mirror.) "Thy memory abides in my heart, as an apple Are laid in dust. I weep. Those eyes, whose radiancy was heav'n, Is lighted yet;-a living smile Alas! that voice is hush'd, whose tone And from thine angel breast How glorious, how sweet, wert thou Brother!-I dare not dream on now In my wild agony. I ever deem'd thou wert not made All light and beauty, that the shade Of earth, should darken thee. 1 ever deem'd thou wert above This world; I felt, an angel love Thou shone, to my young breast. But thou didst pass to rest; Had pleaded all for thee; So thou, at once from pain and care But oh! to dream I cannot brook On each dear word of thine,-each look I dare not seek each treasur'd token Óh' cherish'd,-e'en in death !-to me. To share, than wed, (since this wrung heart My Brother's early grave. Yes, my young Brother!-yes!-to lie I bear not now a part. O Brother! Brother! shouldst thou know In tearless lands, the bitter woe Thy loss bath brought to me, Then come and on thine angel wings M. L. B. Retrospective Gleanings. QUEEN ELIZABETH TO LADY LEICESTER (ONE OF HER MAIDS OF HONOUR) ON THE DEATH OF HER SON. My owne crowe *harme not thieselfe for bootles helpe but shew a good example to comfort your dolorous yoke fellowe. Crowe, a term of familiarity used by the Queen to this lady, whose father suffered with Queen Anna Boleva. Althoughe we have deferred longer to represent to you our greeved thoughtes, because we liked ful il to yelde you the first refleccion of misfortunes whom we have alwaies rather thoughte to cherishe and comforte; yet knowinge now necessitie must bringe it to your eares and nature consequentlie must move both griefe and passion in your harte; we have resolved no longer to smother either ouer care for your sorrowe, or sympathie of ouer griefe for his losse, wherein if it be true that societie, in sorrowe, workes dimynution, we do assure you, by this true messenger of ouer mynde, that nature can have stirred noe more dolorous affection in you (as a mother for a deare sonne) than gratefulness and memorie of his services past hath wrought in us his soveraigne, apprehension of our misse of se worthie a servante, but now that nature's common worke is done, and he that was borne to die hath paide his tribute, let that Christian discretion steil the flux of your immoderate greefinge which hath instructed you both bie example and knowledge, that nothing of this kind hath happened but bie Godes divine providence, and let these lines from your loveing and gratious soveraigne serve to assure youe, that there shalle ever appeare the livelie characters of our estimaceon of him, that was in ouer gratious care of youe, and you that are lefte in valuing rightelie all theire faithful and honest endeavours; more at this time we will not write of this unpleasante subjecte, but have dispatched this gentleman to visite both youer lord and you, to condole with you in the true sence of youer losse, and praise you, that the world maie see that what tyme cureth in weak myndes, that discretion and moderatyon helpeth in yours, in this accident where there is so just cause to demonstrate true patience and moderatyon. Geoven at our Manor of Richmonde the 22nd of September, in the 39 yeare of our reigne, 1597. T. W. C. The Sketch-Book. No. XXXIX. THE GEOLOGIST AND ANTIQUARIAN. (For the Mirror.) My friend, Dr. Gregory Grubworm, F.R. S. Member of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris and Prussia, Fellow of the Antiquarian Society of London, and the Lord knows how many other societies, has, after a great many years of anxious study, made several grand discoveries in the arts, which he is convinced will greatly benefit mankind. As, however, the doctor is extremely shy of disclosing these arcana during his life, (though he faithfully promises to leave all his papers for publication after his decease,) the reader will probably not feel displeased to have an account of his recent invention for discovering gold and silver buried in the earth. Of this invaluable secret I should, perhaps, never have been informed, but accidentally calling upon my friend the other day, I found him warmly engaged in a dispute with Professor Mouldy, Member of the Geological Society of Amsterdam. To give the reader the whole of the arguments employed by these learned antagonists would be more diffuse than delectable; suffice it therefore to confine ourselves to the main point, the new invention; and in order not to lessen the value of this notable plan, I shall give it as nearly in the very words of the doctor as my memory will permit. To convince you, brother Mouldy, that your theories upon the nature of soils, &c. are extremely fallacious, (although contrary to my general system of never, during my life, divulging any of my inestimable plans, of which, however, at rny death I shall bequeath a written legacy to mankind.) I will now give you my invention of the diving-rod for tracing out the precious metals hidden under ground, and it is the more valuable for its extreme simplicity. Procure two hard twigs, of the same year's growth, and from the same branch; to the one, at the end, affix a piece of gold, to the other, a piece of silver; carry your rods exactly level in your hand, one yard above the surface of the ground, and whenever you come where there is gold, that rod so tipped is attracted, and adheres to the earth; if there be silver, the other end is similarly attracted. You have then only to dig out the treasure; and whenever you want money, search diligently by the rod, and get as much as you can find. Thus, sir, I have proved your theories utterly inadequate to such a grand invention, and I will now show you how serviceable I have made geological and antiquarian skill when combined. "My first experiment was made at Windsor Forest, where it is supposed the Romans anciently had a camp. Well, sir, in less than ten minutes my silvertipped twig pointed to the ground, and (taking it from the mantle-piece) I dug up this silver horseshoe, an invaluable relic of antiquity, which I can prove belonged to Caesar's own horse, for the three following reasons:-1st, It is the shoe of a horse, and not of a mare, because it is longer and broader than mare's shoes were allowed by the Roman law. 2nd, It is the shoe of a Roman horse, because you can just see the tip of the eagle's wing (which bird formed their standard) near the left corner. No doubt the whole eagle was originally_there, though now defaced by time and rust. Take this microscope and convince yourself. 3rd. That it was Cæsar's own horse, is evident from the number of holes for the nails; the plebeians and common soldiers were allowed only seven nails in each shoe; the patricians, senators, and officers were indulged with eight; but as here are no less than nine perfect holes, we may assume it was certainly the shoe of the commander-in-chief's horse." Thus far Dr. Grubworm, geology, and logic and if my readers have not by this time dropped off one by one, I can only thank them for their kind patience, and promise them in return as true an account of the forthcoming argument between my friend and another learned professor (which is expected to take place next month) as I can possibly collect. JACOBUS. The Topographer. No. XXIII. WHITTINGTON'S STONE. (To the Editor of the Mirror.) SIR,-The_legend of Whittington and his cat is, I imagine, pretty_universally known. It is there stated (I write only from memory) that the hero of the story, flying from the persecutions of the domineering cook maid, had proceeded as far as Highgate on his way homeward, when being fatigued he sat down upon a stone by the roadside, and whilst pondering over the many events and circumstances that had occurred to him from his earliest remembrance to that moment, he was aroused from his reverie by the cheering sound of Bow bells, which to his fanciful mind seemed to say, "Turn again, turn again Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London." How far the tradition may be consonant with truth I do not pretend to affirm, but it is an unquestionable fact that a Richard Whittington was "thrice Lord Mayor of London." A stone has been placed on the spot where it is said he heard those sounds which induced him to return and put up with the threats and blows of his tormen 414 tor; indulging in the pleasing idea of one day realizing that state of pomp and greatness Bow bells had taught him to anticipate. Those who are accustomed to extend their peregrinations to that neighbourhood, as well as those who are located near the spot, are probably well acquainted with it; but as many of your numerous readers are, doubtless, uninformed of the existence of such a monument, I trust this notice will not prove unacceptable. It stands on the west side of the road, leading from Holloway to Highgate, about half-way up the hill; but by whom this memorial has been erected I have not been able to learn. The western face of the stone bears the following inscription : : STORM IN THE DESERT. Suez, Feb. 23, 1814. AFTER having travelled all the morning in the bed of the ancient canal that formerly connected the Red Sea with the Mediterranean, but without being able to discover a vestige of any thing like masonry, or indication of the sluices by which its waters were said to have been regulated, we had lost, at noon, all traces of its course, though we continued our direction still northerly, inclining two or three points to the west, until we gained the site of the Bitter Lakes, as they were called by the ancients, and named the Salt Marshes in more modein maps. We traversed it in every direction, however, for a diameter of ten miles, having fleet trotting dromedaries beneath us, without finding the least portion of water, although it had evidently been the receptacle of an extensive lake, and was at this moment below the level of the sea at Suez. The soil here differs from all around it. On leaving the last traces of the canal, we had entered upon a loose shifting sand; here we found a firm clay mixed with gravel, and perfectly dry, its surface encrusted over with a strong salt. On leav ing the site of these now evaporated lakes, we entered upon a loose and shifting sand again, like that which Pliny describes when speaking of the roads from Pelusium, across the sands of the Desert; which, he says, unless there be reeds stuck in the ground to point out the line of direction, the way could not be found, because the wind blows up the sand, and covers the footsteps. in The morning was delightful on our setting out, and promised us a fine day; but the light airs from the south soon increased to a gale, the sun became obscure, and as every hour brought us into a looser sand, it flew around us in such whirlwinds, with the sudden gusts that blew, that it was impossible to proceed. We halted, therefore, for an hour, and took shelter under the lee of our beasts, who were themselves so terrified as to need fastening by the knees, and uttered in their wailings but a melancholy symphony I know not whether it was the novelty of the situation that gave it additional horrors, or whether the habit of magnify. ing evils to which we are unaccustomed, had increased its effect, but certain it is, that fifty gales of wind at sea appeared to me more easy to be encountered than one amongst those sands. It is impossible to imagine desolation more complete; we could see neither sun, earth, nor sky; the plain at ten paces was absolutely imperceptible; our beasts, as well as ourselves, were so covered as to render breathing difficult; they hid their faces in the ground, and we could only uncover our own for a moment, to behold this chaos of midday darkness, and wait impatiently for its abatement. Alexander's journey to the temple of Jupiter Ammon, and the destruction of the Persian armies of Cam byses in the Lybian Desert, rose to my recollection with new impressions, made by the horror of the scene before me: while Addison's admirable lines, which I also remembered with peculiar force on this occasion, seemed to possess as much truth as beauty :-- Lo! where our wide Numidian wastes extend, |