road, which has acquired the name of Salt-hill, by which also the neighbouring inns have long been known. The chief object of this ceremony, which has of late years been conducted with more decorum than formerly, is to collect money for salt, as it is termed, from all persons travelling on the road. The scholars, who collect the money are called saltbearers, and are dressed in rich silk habits of different colours. Tickets, inscribed with some motto, by way of password, are given to such persons as have already paid for salt, as a security from any further demands. The ceremony has frequently been honoured with the presence of kings and the Royal Family, whose liberal contributions, added to those of many of the nobility and others, who have been educated at Eton, and purposely attended the meeting, have sometimes augmented the collection to more than 800l. The sum so collected is given to the senior scholar, who is going off to Cambridge, for his support at the university. The origin of the custom, which appears to have been coeval with the foundation of the college, is unknown; but it has very plausibly been conjectured to that of the bairn, or boy-bishop; a ceremony which anciently commenced on the 6th of December, the festival of Sir Nicholas, the patron of children, and lasted till Innocents' Day. During the intermediate time, the boy performed various episcopal functions; and if it happened that he died before its termination, he was buried with the same ceremonials which were used at the funeral of a bisbop. This conjecture is strongly supported by the circumstance, that within the memory of several persons now living, it was a part of the ceremony at the montem, that a boy, in clerical attire, with a wig, should read prayers.

The Playing Fields are on the north-western side of the college. Here the grove offers its shades :

Where some on earnest business bent,
Their murm'ring labour ply,

'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty.

THE MERCHANT'S VOW.

A LEGEND OF CANONBURY, FOUNDED ON HISTORICAL FACTS.

The shades of the evening were gradually darkening around the stately mansion of Canonbury, and its " far seen tower," as a cavalier, whose gallant bearing proclaimed him of gentle blood, through all the folds of the thick mantle in which he was wrapped (evidently to escape recognition) cautiously approached its walls; while, ever and anon, he paused, and, raising the Spanish cap that enveloped his brows, and prevented his countenance from being seen, seemed to listen, with undivided attention, for some preconcerted signal.

a

Suddenly he started with surprise, as a subdued whistle, like that used on shipbcard for calling the crew together, met his astonished ear;-he paused for a moment and then advanced, looking around with cautious gaze, for he had little expected to find any person there but himself at that hour, which he had looked forward to with a lover's impatience when he expects to meet the idol of his heart :-in word, the person whose curiosity was thus aroused by the sound we have described, was no other than William, Lord Compton, a handsome young noble of Queen Elizabeth's court, and whose errand was one in which none but himself and a certain lovely occupant of Canonbury mansion was concerned. Elizabeth, the only daughter and heiress of the celebrated Sir John Spencer, the richest man of his time, and the bold assertor of the priviliges of the City of London, when threatened by the court, was the object of his affection. Whether the money-bags of the wealthy merchant, which must of course descend, in due time, to his only child, had any share in exciting or keeping alive his passion, was known to none but himself: but Elizabeth Spencer possessed quali ties, bodily and mental, which would have shone brightly enough, even if they had not been seconded by the more substantial attractions of her father's money-bags. ladies of the court of good Queen Bess were not deficient in beauty, but Elizabeth Spencer was equal, in that respect, to any dame amongst them all,-nor was she defi

The

cient in accomplishments; not so showy, perhaps, as those of the present day, but, certainly, quite as useful, and much more innocent and healthful: thus circumstanced it may be supposed that she was not averse to the attentions of the gallant and high-born Compton.

"The course of true-love," however, as the poet of that, of this, and of all time, has observed, "never does run smooth,"- -an unexpected obstacle to their union intervened, -no other than the disapprobation of Sir John Spencer, who, as the stout knight himself observed, "knew too well the power of money not to know that many a penniless, but highborn, noble would be glad to let his daughter share in a peerage, so he might share the wealth that had been the product of many laborious years" No, no!" he would say,

my riches are of no use, if they are to be squandered away by some spendthrift lord as soon as the breath is out of my body:-give me for a son-in-law some staid citizen, who, instead of diminishing the store will increase it, and rule the proud needy fools as plain old John Spencer hath ruled them.-Go to, girl, I would sooner see thee wedded to Master Nicholas Chapman, who hath been a faithful servant to me these thirty good years, than to e'er a lord of them all, let me hear no more of this beggarly. Compton for peer though he be, he hath not even an office to bring him in a few hundred pounds per annum, and perhaps that's the reason he cannot let honest people keep their silly daughters in quiet.-no, no,-never will I consent to such a match while this little hand belongs to my pretty Flizabeth !" Thus would the old knight often conclude, at the same time kissing the hand of his darling daughter.

Notwithstanding this prohibition, however, Lord Compton still entertained hopes of uniting himself to the object of his attachment, and, although he was denied access to Canonbury-house, the country mansion of Sir John, where Elizabeth almost constantly resided, he still managed to keep up a correspondence with her unknown to her father, and, on the evening on which our story commences, had planned a meeting with his beloved, shortly before Sir John should return from his counting-house in the City. How was he surprised, then, when he expected to find the neighbourhood of Canonbury as silent and deserted as usual, to hear the signa

to which we have alluded. For a moment, as we have observed, he paused and then, clapping his hand on the hilt of his trusty rapier, which could not be seen beneath the thick cloak, in which to avoid recognition he was enveloped, he advanced in the direction of the sound. As he turned a projecting angle of the wall, under one of the stately bastions which then graced it, he perceived the figure of a man, habited in the same manner as himself, crouching in a corner, as if to escape observation. Anxious to discover the meaning of the mysterious proceedings, he advanced towards the other, determining to question him; he was just on the point of speaking, when, still more to his surprise, the man towards whom he was advancing, came from behind the buttress which half concealed his form, and in a low and confidential tone-such a tone as a friend of long-standing would usehastily inquired, "Is he coming?-Shall I pipe all hands?" Lord Compton started to hear a foreign language for the questions were asked in French-in so remote a spot. In a moment, however, he recovered his presence of mind, and, as he was perfectly well acquainted with the language in which he was addressed, he answered without embarrassment, "No, not yet, he is not yet in sight!"

"Donner and blitzen," returned the other, " does he mean to keep us here all night. If he were not so rich a prize, I should blame our captain for coming here on a fool's errand! But the ransom of the richest merchant in the world will well pay us for this night's watching I warrant !"

"True," said Compton, who perceived, from the fellow's words, that there was some scheme on foot for carrying off Sir John Spencer, and that the man mistook him for one of his companions, deceived by the costume in which he had enveloped himself to avoid recognition, True, as you say, to night's work will be well paid! But how are we to be sure we have the right;-It will be a foolish trick if we do not catch him at last!"

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"Can I trust my ears!" exclaimed the other in surprise. Why, Hans, you surely cannot have forgotten that you, who know him so well, are to let me know when he comes that I may give the signal to our comrades? Come, come, a truce to jesting!-keep a good look out!"

"Ha! ha ha! you did not think me in earnest I hope,"

gaily cried Lord Compton, willing to humour the mistake, in hopes to "pluck out the heart of the mystery," and to frus. trate the scheme, "I did but jest!"

"I like not such jokes!" said the other.

"Return to

your post in front of the tower, he may get safely in whilst you are chattering and joking here!"

"In front of the tower!" thought Compton, who saw the necessity of getting rid of the man for whom he was taken. Then crying aloud, "Well, keep your eyes open, for I shall soon have to give the signal of Sir John's approach ?" he rushed off towards the spot.

As he neared the lofty tower, he perceived the figure of Sir John and his trusty servant (Compton's rival) Master Nicholas Chapman, approaching, while a dark form in dress, height, and size, his own exact counterpart, was stealthily dogging their steps. There was no time to lose in explana tion-another moment and all would be lost-alreedy the muffled figure had raised a whistle to his lips,-ere Compton could reach him the signal had been given;-in one instant, he was floundering in the deepest part of the pond which then, as now, ornamented the gardens of Canonbury in front of the tower-and in the next, almost before the astonished citizens were aware of what had passed, they were surrounded by a numerous party of well-armed men. The Lord Compton, preserving his self-possession, and relying on his disguise, in reply to the inquiries of his companions as to the person of the knight, by silently pointing to Master Nicholas Chapman. Two motives might have induced him to act thus,— ne, to rescue Sir John Spencer from the plot which had plainly been laid against him, and thereby obtain some claim to his favourable consideration, when he should demand the hand of his daughter; and the other, to rid himself of a formidable rival, by substituting Master Nicholas in the stead of his patron. In vain the latter protested that he was no rich merchant, and called all the saints to witness that he was as poor as a rat :-his merciless tormentors thrust a gag into his capacious jaws, bound him hand and foot, and ran off with their prize with their utmost speed, leaving Sir John to pursue his way to Canonbury by himself. Compton, to save appearances, accompanied them as far as the Islington Road, when he took the first opportunity to slip from them. His first impulse