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of a M. Foscue, one of the farmers-genera) of the province of l.anguedoc He dad amassed considerable wealth by means which rendered him an object of universal detestation. One day he was ordered by the government to raise a considerable sum: as an excuse for not complying with the demand, he pleaded extreme poverty ; and resolved on hiding his treasure in such a manner as to escape detection. He dug a kind of a cave in his wine-cellar, which he made so large and deep, that he used to go down to it with a ladder; at the entrance of it was a door with a spring lock on it, which on shutting would fasten of itself. He was suddenly missed, and diligent search made after him; ponds were drawn, and every suggestion adopted that could reasonably lead to his discovery, dead or alive. In a short time after, his house was sold; and the purchaser beginning to make some a< erations, the workmen discovered a door in the wine-cellar with a key in the lock. On going down they found Foscue lying dead on the ground, with a candlestick near him, but no candle in it. On searching farther, they found the vast wealth that he had amassed. It is supposed, that, when he had entered his cave, the door had by some accident shut after him; and thus being out of the call of any person, he perished for want of food, in the midst of his treasure.
SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHER.
The hollow winds begin to blow;
The clouds look black, the glass is low;
The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep;
f ad spiders from their cobwebs peep.
Last night the rain went pale to bed;
The moon in halos hid her head.
The boding shepherd heaves t sigh,
The walls are damp, the ditches smell,
The wind unsteady veers arounn,
Twill surely rain, we see't with sorrow.
Oxford Lent Term begins. St. Hilary. Sts. Felix. Ste. Isaias and Sabbat. St. Barbasceminus, fyc.
St. Felix of Nola, an exorcist, and afterwards a priest, was, according to Butler and Ribadeneira, a great miraculist. He lived under Decius, in 250; being fettered and dungeoned in a cell, covered with potsherds and broken glass, a resplendent angel, seen by the saint alone, because to him only was he sent, freed him of his chains and guided him to a mountain, where bishop Maximus, aged and frozen, lay for dead, whom Felix recovered by praying; for, straightway, he saw a bramble bear a bunch of grapes, with the juice whereof he recovered the bishop, and taking him on his back carried him home to his diocese. Being pursued by pagans, he fled to some ruins and crept through a hole in the wall, which spiders closed with their webs before the pagans got up to it, and there lay for six months miraculously supported. According to the Legend, his body, for ages after his death, distilled a liquor that cured diseases.
Chronology. In January, 1784, died suddenly in Macclesfield-slreet, Soho, aged 79, Sam Crisp, esq., a relation of the celebrated sir Nicholas Crisp. There was a remarkable singularity in the character of this gentleman. He was a bachelor, had been formerly a broker in 'Change-alley, and many years since had retired from business, with an easy competency. Hij daily amusement, for fourteen years before, was going from London to Greenwich, and immediately returning from thence, in the stage; for which he paid regularly £27 a year. He was a good-humoured, obliging, and facetious companion, always paying a particular attention, and a profusion of compliments, to the ladies, especially to those who were agreeable. He was perpetually projecting some little schemes for the benefit of the public, or, to use his own favourite maxim, pro bono publico; he was the institutor of the Lactarium in St. George's Fields, and selected the Latin mottoes for the facetious Mrs. Henniver, who got a little fortune there. He projected the mile and half stones round London; and teased the printers of newspapers into the plan of letter-boxes. He was remarkably humane and benevolent, and, without the least ostentation, performed many generous and charitable actions, which would have dignified a more ajiple fortune.
THE WINTER ROBIN, A suppliant to your window comes,
Who trusts your faith, and fears no guile: He claims admittance for your crumbs,
And reads his passport in your smile.
For cold and cheerless is the day,
No berry hangs upon the spray,
Nor worm, nor ant-egg, can be found.
Secure his suit will be preferred,
No fears his slender feet deter; For sacred is the household bird
That wears the scarlet stomacher.
St. Paul, the first Hermit. St. Maurut. St. Main. St. John, Calybite. St. Isidore. St. Jionitus. St. Ita, or Mida
St. Paul, A. D. 342. The life of St. Paul, the first hermit, is said, by Butler, to have been written by St. Jerome in 3G5, who received an account of it from St. Anthony and others. According to him, when twenty-two years old, St. Paul fled from the persecution of
Decius to a cavern, near which grew a palm-tree, that supplied him with leaves for clothing, and fruit for food, till he was forty-three years of age ; after which he was daily fed by a raven till he was ninety, and then died. St. Anthony, in his old age, being tempted by vanity, imagined himself the first hermit, till the contrary was revealed to him in a dream, wherefore, the next morning, he set out in search of St. Paul. "St. Jerome relates from his authors," says Butler, " that he met a centaur, or creature, not with the nature and properties, but with something of the mixt shape of man and horse; and that this monster, or phantom of the devil, (St. Jerome pretends not to determine which it was,) upon his making the sign of the cross, fled away, after pointing out the way to the saint. Our author (St. Jerome) adds, that St. Anthony soon after met 'a satyr, who gave him to understand that he was an inhabitant of those deserts, and one of the sort whom the deluded gentiles adored for gods." Ribadeneira describes this satyr as with writhed nostrils, two little horns on his forehead, and the feet of a goat. After two days' search, St. Anthony found St. Paul, and a raven brought a loaf, whereupon they took their corporal refection. The next morning, St. Paul told him he was going to die, and bid him fetch a cloak given to St. Anthony by St. Athanasius, and wrap his body in it. St. Anthony then knew, that St. Paul must have been informed of the cloak by revelation, and went forth from the desert to fetch it; but before his return, St. Paul had died, and St. Anthony found two lions digging his grave with their claws, wherein he buried St. Paul, first wrapping him in St. Athanasius's cloak, and preserving, as a great treasure, St. Paul's garment, made of palm-tree leaves, stitched together. How St.Jerome, in his conclusion of St. Paul's life, praises this garment, may be seen in Ribadeneira.
A writer, who signs himself " Crito" in the " Truth Teller," No. 15, introduces us to an honest enthusiast, discoursing to his hearers on the tnow-drvp of the season, and other offerings from Flora, to the rolling year. "Picture to your imagination, a poor, 'dirty' mendicant, of the order of St. Francis, who had long prayed and fasted in his sanctuary, and long laboured in his garden, issuing out on the morning of his first pilgrimage, without money and without provisions, clad in kits mantle and hood, ' like a sad votarist in palmer's weeds;' and thus, and in these words, taking leave of the poor flock who lived found his gothic habitation.—' Fellowmen, I owe you nothing, and I give you all; you neither paid me tithe nor rent, yet I have bestowed on you food and clothing in poverty, medicine in sickness, and spiritual counsel in adversity. That I might do all these things, I have devoted my life in the seclusion of those venerable walls. There I have consulted the sacred books of our church for your spiritual instruction and the good of your souls ; to clothe you, I have sold the embroidered garment, and have put on the habit of mendicity. In the intercalary moments of my canonical hours of prayer, I have collected together the treasures of flora, and gathered from her plants the useful arts of physic, by which you have been benefited. Ever mindful of the useful object of the labour to which I had condemned myself, I have brought together into the garden of this priory, the lily of the valley and the gentian of the mountain, the nymphsea of the lake, and the cliver of the arid bank; in tnort, I have collected the pilewort, the Uiroatwort, the liverwort, and every other vegetable specific which the kind hand of j sature has spread over the globe, and l *'iicli I have designated by their qualities,
Simon.—Not many; some few, as thus:—
and have concerted to your use and benefit. Mindful also of the pious festivals which our church prescribes, I have sought to ma) e these charming objeots of | floral nature, the timepieces of my religious calendar, and the mementos of the hastening period of my mortality. Thus I can light the taper to our Virgin Mother on the blowing of the white snow- \ drop, which opens its floweret at the time of Candlemas; the lady's smock and the daffodil remind me of the Annunciation; the blue harebell, of the festival of St. George ; the ranunculus, of the Invention of the Cross; the scarlet lychnis, of St. John the Baptist's day; the white lily, of the Visitation of our Lady • and the virgin's bower, of her Assumption; uid Michaelmas, Martinmas, Holy Rood and Christmas, have all their appropriate monitors. I learn the time of day from the shutting of the blossoms of the star of I Jerusalem and the dandelion, and the hour of the night by the stars."'
From kind feelings to the benevolence of the Franciscan mendicant's address, which we may suppose ourselves to have just heard, we illustrate something of his purpose, by annexing the rose, the tulip, and the passion-flower, after an engraving by a catholic artist, who has impressed them with devotional monograms, and symbols of his faith.
When mother Autumn fills their beaks with corn,
3amiarp J 6.
St Marcellus, Pope. St. Macariiu the
elder, of Egypt. St. Honor at u*. St.
Fursey. St. Henry, Hermit, &c.
According to Butler, he was so strict in penance, that the Christians disliked him ; he was banished by Maxentius, " for his severity against a certain apostate;" and died pope in 310.
Winter Rainbow in Ireland.
In the first of the "Letters from the Irish Islands," in 1823, the writer addresses to his friend, a description of the rainbow on the hills at this season of the year. He says, " I could wish (provided I could ensure you one fine day in the course of the week) that you were here, to enjoy, in rapid succession, and, with all its wild magnificence, the whirlwind, the tempest, the ocean's swell, and, as Burns beautifully expresses it,
Some gleams of sunshine, 'mid renewing storms
To-day there have been fine bright intervals, and, while returning from a hasty ride, I have been greatly delighted w;th the appearance of a rainbow, gradually advancing before the lowering clouds, sweeping with majestic stride across the troubled ocean, then, as it gained the beach, and seemed almost within my grasp, vanishing amid the storm, of which it had been the lovely, but treacherous, forerunner. It is, I suppose, a consequence of our situation, and the close connection between sea and mountain,that the rainbows here are so frequent, and so peculiarly beautiful. Of an amazing breadth, and with colours vivid beyond description, I know not whether most to admire this aerial phenomenon, when, suspended in the western sky, one end of the bow sinks behind the island of Boffin, while, at the distance of several leagues, the other rests upon the misty hills of Ennis Turc; or when, at a later hour of the day, it has appeared stretched across the ample sides of Miilbrea, penetrating far into the deep blue waters that flow at rts base. With feelings of grateful recollection too, we may hail the repeated visits of this heavenly messenger, occasionally, as often as five or six times in the course
of the same day, in a country exposed to such astonishing, and, at times, almost incessant floods of rain."
Behold yon bright, ethereal bow.
With evanescent beauties glow;
The spacious arch streams through the sky,
Deck'd with each tint of nature's dye.
Refracted sunbeams, through the shower,
A humid radiance from it pour;
Whilst colour into colour fades,
With blended lights and softening shades.
"It is a happy effect of extreme mildness and moisture of climate, that most of our hills (in Ireland) are covered with grass to a considerable height, and afford good pasturage both in summer and winter. The grasses most abundant are the dogstail, (cynosurus cristatus,) several species of the meadow grass, (poa,) the fescue, (festuca duriuscula and pratensis,) Riid particularly the sweet-scented vernal grass, (anthoxanthum odoratum,) which abounds in the dry pastures, and mountain sides ; where its withered blossoms, which it is remarkable that the cattle dc not eat, give a yellowish brown tint to the whole pasture. Our bog lands are overrun with the couch, or florin grass,(agrostis stolonifera,) several other species of the agrostis, and the aira. This is, indeed, the country for a botanist; and one so indefatigable as yourself, would not hesitate to venture with us across the rushy bog, where you would be so well rewarded for the labour of springing from one knot of rushes to another, by meeting with the fringed blossoms of the bog-bean, (menyanthes trifoliata,) the yellow asphodel, (narthecium ossifragum,) the pale bog violet, (viola palustris,) both species of the pinguicula, and of the beautiful drosera, the English fly-trap, spreading its dewy leaves glistening in the sun. I could also point out to you, almost hid in the moist recesses of some dripping rock, the pretty miniature fern, (trichomanes Tunbridgensis.J^hich -»u may remember showing me for the first time at Tunbridge Wells: the osmunda lunaria and regalis are also to be found, with other ferns, mosses, and lichens, which it is far beyond my botanical skill to distinguish.—The man of science, to whatever branch of natural history his attention is directed, will indeed' find Dever-failinz sources of gratification, in exploring paths, hitherto almost untrodden, in our wild country. Scarcely a county in England is without its peculiar Flora, almost every hill and every valley have been subject to repeated, scientific examination; while the productions of nature, so bountifully accorded to pool Ireland, are either unknown or disregarded."
A SEASONABLE DIVER3IOS.
From the many games of forfeits that are played in parlours during in-door weather, one is presented to the perusal of youthful readers Irorn "Winter Evening Pastimes."
Aunty's Garden, "The company being all seated in a circle, the person who is to conduct the game proposes to the party to repeat, in turns, the speech he is about to make; and it is agreed that those who commit any mistake, or substitute one word for another, shall pay a forfeit. The player then commences by saying, distinctly, 'I am jus/ come from my aunt Deborah's garden. Bless me! what a fine garden is my aunt's garden I In my aunt's garden there are four corners.' The one seated to the player's light is to repeat this, word for word : if his memory fails he pays a forfeit, and gives up his turn to his next right-hand neighbour, not being permitted to correct his mistake.
When this has gone all round, the conductor repeats the first speech, and adds the following:
'In the first corner stands a superb alaternus,
Whose shade, in the dog-days, won't let the
'In the second corner grows
"In the third corner Jane show'd me much London pride;
Let your mouth to your next neighbour'] ear be applied,
And quick to his keeping a secret confide." "At this period of the game every one
must tell his right-hand neighbour some
In the fourth round, after repeating the whole of the former, he concludes thus: 'In the fourth corner doth appear
Of amaranths a crowd;
Must now be told aloud.'
"Those who are unacquainted with this game occasionally feel not a little embarrassed at this conclusion, as the secrets revealed by their neighbour may be such as they would not like to be published to the whole party. Those who are aware of this finesse take care to make their secrets witty, comic, or complimentary."
Moves not like Spring with gradual step, nor grows
From bud to beauty, but with all his snows
Before him, nor unto his time belong
The suns of summer, nor the charms of song, That with May's gentle smiles so well agree. But he, made perfect in his birthday cloud,
Starts into sudden life with scarce a sound,
And with a tender footstep prints the ground, As tho' to cheat man's ear; yet while he stays He seems as 'twere to prompt our merriest lays, And bid the dance and joke be long and loud.
Literary Pocket Book, 1820.
St. Anthony, Patriarch of Moiilcs. Stt. Speusippus, EUusippus, and Melensippus. Sta. Sulpicius I. and II., Abps. of Bourges. St. Milgithe. St. Sennius, or Nennidhins.
St. Anthony, Patriarch of Monks. The memoirs of St. Anthony make a distinguished figure in the lives of the saints by Alban Butler, who states the particulars to have been extracted from "The Life of St. Anthony," compiled by the great St Athanasius; " a work," say*