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cords full of knots, put forth the children, if there be any, and carefully shutting the doors and windows, extinguish the other lights, except only a small candle so placed in a dark lanthorn upon the altar, that the crucifix may appear clear and visible, but not reflecting any light, thus making all the room dark: then the priest, in a loud and doleful voice, pronounceth the verse Jube Domine benedicere, and going through an appointed service, comes Apprehendite dhciplinam, &c.; at which words, taking their whips, they scourge their naked bodies during the recital of the 50th Psalm, Miserere, and the 129th, De profundi; with several prayers; at the conclusion of which, upon a sign given, they end their whipping, and put on their clothes in the dark and in silence."


The Oratorio commenced with the fathers of the Oratory. In order to draw youth to church, they had hymns, psalms, and spiritual songs, or cantatas, sung either in chorus or by a single favourite voice. These pieces were divided into two parts, the one performed before the sermon, and the other after it. Sacred stories, or events from scripture, written in verse, and by way of dialogue, were set to music, and the first part being performed, the sermon succeeded, which the people were induced to stay and hear, that they might be present at the performance of the second part. The subjects in early times were the good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, Tobit with the angel, his father, and his wife, and similar histories, which by the excellence of the composition, the band of instruments, and the performance, brought the Oratory into great repute; hence this species of musical drama obtained the general appellation of Oratorio.

St. Augustine.

This was the monk sent to England by St. Gregory the Great, to convert the English; by favour of Ethelbert, he became archbishop of Canterbury. Christianity, however, had long preceded Augustine's arrival, for the queen of Ethelbert, previous to his coming, was accustomed to pay her devotions in the church of St. Martin just without Canterbury. This most ancient edifice still exists. Not noticing more at present concerning

his historical character, it is to be observed that, according to his biographers, he worked many miracles, whereof may be observed this :—

St Augustine came to a certain town, inhabited by wicked people, who "refused hys doctryne and prechyng uterly, and drof hym out of the towne, castyng on hym the tayles of thornback, or lyke fysshes; Wherefore he besought Almighty God to shewe hys jugement on them; and God sent to them a shamefull token; for the children that were born after in the place, had tayles, as it is sayd, tyll they had repented them. It is said comynly that this fyll at Strode in Kente; but blyssed be Gode, at thys daye is no such deformyte."* It is said, however, that they were the natives of a village in Dorsetshire who were thus tail-pieced it

Another notable miracle is thus related. When St. Augustine came toCompton, in Oxfordshire, the curate complained, that though he had often warned the lord of the place to pay his tythes, yet they were withheld, " and therefore I." said the curate, "have cursed hym, and I fynde him the more obstynate." Then St. Augustine demanded why he did not pay his tithes to God and the church; whereto the knight answered, that as he tilled the ground, he ought to have the tenth sheaf as well as the ninth. Augustine, finding that he could not bend this lord to his purpose, then departed and went to mass; but before he began, he charged all those that were accursed to go out of the church. Then a dead body arose, and went out of the church into the churchyard with a white cloth on his head, and stood there till mass was done; whereupon St. Augustine went to him, and demanded what he was; and the dead body said, " I was formerly lord of this town, and because I would not pay my tithes to my curate, he cursed me, and then I died and went to hell." Then Augustine bade the dead lord bring him to where the curate was buried, which accordingly he did, and Augustine commanded the dead curate to arise, who thereupon accordingly arose and stood before all the people. Then Augustine demanded of the dead curate if he knew the dead lord, who answered. "Would to God I had never known him, for he was a withholderof his tythes, and, moreover, an evil-doer." Then Augustine delivered to the said curate a rod, and

« Golden Legend, t Porter's Flower*

then the dead lord kneeling, received penance thereby ; which done, Augustine commanded the dead lord to go again to his grave, there to abide until the day of judgment; and forthwith the said lord entered his grave, and fell to ashes. Then Augustine asked the curate, how long he had been dead; and he said, a hundred and fifty years. And Augustine offered to pray for him, that he might remain on earth to confirm men in their belief; but the curate refused, because he was in the place of rest. Then said Augustine, "Go in peace, and pray for me and for holy church;" and immediately the curate returned to his grave. At this sight, the lord who had not paid the curate his tythes was sore afraid, and came quaking to St. Augustine, and to his curate, and prayed forgiveness of his trespass, and promised ever after to pay his tythes.

Chronology. On the 26th of May, 1555, was a gay May-game at St. Marttin's-in-the-fields, with giants and hobby-horses, drums and guns, morrice-dances, and other minstrels.*


Rhododendron. Ilhododeiidrum Ponticum. Dedicated to St. Augustine. Yellow Azalea. Azalea pontica. Dedicated to St. Philip Ncri.

fflty 27.

St. John, Pope, A. D. 526. St. Bede, A. D.

735. St. Julius, about A. D. 302.
St. John, Pope.

This pontiff was imprisoned by Tlieodoric, king of the Golhs, in Italy, and died in confinement. This sovereign had

previously put to death the philosopher Boethius, who, according to Ribadeneira, after he was beheaded, was scoffingly asked by one of the executioners," who hath put thee to death'!'' whereupon Boetius answered, "wicked men," and immediately taking up his head in his own hands, walked away with it to the adjoining church.

St. Bede

The life of "Venerable Bede" in Butler, is one of the best memoirs in his biography of the saints. He was an Englishman, in priest's orders. It is said of him that he was a prodigy of learning in an unlearned age; that he surpassed Gregory the Great in eloquence and copiousness of style, and that Europe scarcely produced a greater scholar. • He was a teacher of youth, and, at one time had six hundred pupils, yet he exercised his clerical functions with punctuality, and wrote an incredible number of works in theology, science, and the polite arts. It is true he fell into the prevailing credulity of the early age wherein he flourished, but he enlightened it by his erudition, and improved it by his unfeigned piety and unwearied zeal.

Not to ridicule so great a man, but as an instance of the desire to attribute wonderful miracles to distinguished characters, the following silly anecdote concerning Bede is extracted from the "Golden Legend." He was blind, and desiring to be led forth to preach, his servant carried him to a heap of stones, to which, the good father, believing himself preaching to a sensible congregation, delivered a noble discourse, whereunto, when he had finished his sermon, the stones answered and said " Amen!"

Methinks that to some vacant hermitage

My feet would rather turn—to some dry nook

Scooped out of living rock, and near a brook Hurled down a mountain cove from stage to stage, Yet tempering, for my sight, its bustling rage

In the soft heaven of a translucent pool;

Thence creeping under forest arches cool, Fit haunt of shapes whose glorious equipage

Perchance would throng my dreams. A beechen bowl, A Maple dish, my furniture should be;

Crisp yellow leaves my bed ; the hooting Owl .

My nightwatch: nor should e'er the crested fowl
From thorn or vill his matins sound for me.
Tired of the world and all its industry.
But what if one, through grove or flowery mead,

Indulging thus at will the creeping feet

Of a voluptuous indolence, should meet

* Stiype's Memorial*.

The hovering shade of venerable Bede,

The saint, the scholar, from a circle freed
Of toil stupendous, in a hallowed seat
of learning, where he heard the billows beat
On a wild coast—rough monitors to feed
Perpetual industry—sublime recluse!
The recreant soul, that dares to shun the debt
Imposed on human kind, must first forget

Thy diligence, thy unrelaxing use
Of a long, life, and, in the hour of death,
The last dear service of thy pasting breath!



Every thing of good or evil, incident to any period of the year, is to be regarded seasonable; the present time of the year, therefore, must not be quarrelled with, if it be not always agreeable to us. Many days of this month, in 1825, have been most oppressive to the spirits, and injurious to the mental faculties, of persons who are unhappily susceptible of changes

in the weather, and especially the winds. These have been borne \tith some philosophy, by the individual now holding the pen; but, alas! the effects are too apparent, he apprehends, to many who have read what he has been scarcely able to throw together. He hopes that these defaults will be placed to their proper account, and that cloudless skies and genial breezes will enable him to do better.

May, 1825

All hail to thee, hail to thee, god of the morning!

How joyous thy steeds from the ocean have sprung!
The clouds and the waves smile to see thee returning,

And young zephyrs laugh as they gambol along.

No more with the tempest the river is swelling,
No angry clouds frown, and no sky darkly lowers;

The bee winds his horn, and the gay news is telling,
That spring is arrived with her sunshine and flowers.

From her home in the grass see the white primrose peeping,
While diamond dew-drops around her are spread,

She smiles through her tears, like an infant, whose weeping
To laughter is changed when its sorrows art fled.

In the pride of its beauty the young year is shining,
And nature with blossoms is wreathing the trees,

The white and the green, in rich clusters entwining,

Are sprinkling their sweets on the wings of each breeze.

Then hail to thee, hail to thee, god of the morning!

Triumphant ride on in thy chariot of light;
The earth, with thy bounties her forehead adorning,

Comes forth, like a bride, from the chamber of night.

E. C.


Buttercups. Ranunculus acrh.
Dedicated to St. John, Pope.
Yellow Bachelor's Buttons, Ranunculut acrit pleats,
Dedicated to St. Bede.

^Hap 28. Chronology.

St. Oermanut, Bp. of Paris, A. D. 576. 1546. Cardinal Beaton was on this

St. CaraiiHui, also Caramis and Caro, day assassinated in Scotland. He was

(in French, Cheron.) primate of that kingdom, over which he

exercised almost sovereign sway. Just before his death he got into his power George Wishart, a gentleman by birth, who preached against Romish superstitions, and caused him to be condemned to the stake for heresy. The" cardinal refused the sacrament to his victim, on the ground that it was not reasonable to allow a spiritual benefit to an obstinate heretic, condemned by the church. Wishart was tied to a tree in the castle-yard of St. Andrew's, with bags of gunpowder fastened about his body. The cardinals and prelates were seated on rich cushions with tapestry hangings before them, from whence they viewed the execution of their sentence. The gunpowder having exploded without ending Wishart's bodily sufferings, the inflexible reformer exclaimed from the fire, "This flame hath scorched my body, yet hath it not daunted my spirit: but he who from yonder high place beholdeth me with such pride, shall within a few days lies in the same as ignominiously as now he is seen proudly to rest himself." After these words, the cord that went about his neck was drawn by one of the executioneM. to stop his breath, the fire was increased, his body was consumed to ashes, and the cardinal caused proclamation to be made that none should pray for the heretic under pain of the heaviest ecclesiastical censures. If the church, said the priests, had found such a protector in former times, she had maintained her authority; but the cardinal's cruelly struck the people with horror, and John Lesly, brother to the earl of Rothes, with Normand Lesly, the earl of Rothes' son, (who was disgusted on account of some private quarrel,) and other persons of birth and quality, openly vowed to avenge Wishart's death. Early in the morning they entered the cardinal's palace at St. Andrews, which he had strongly fortified; though they were not above sixteen persons, they thrust out a hundred tradesmen and fifty servants, whom they seized separately, before any suspicion arose of their intentions; and having shut the gates, they proceeded very deliberately to execute their purpose on the cardinal. Beaton alarmed with the noise which he heard in the castle, barricadoed the door of his chamber: but finding that they had brought fire in order to force their way, and having obtained, as is believed, a promise of life, he opened the door; and that he was a priest, he

conjured them to spare him; Two of them rushed upon him with drawn swords, but a third, James Melvil, stopped their career, and bade them reflect that this work was the work and judgment of God, and ought to be executed with becoming deliberation and gravity. Then turning the point of his sword towards Beaton, he called to him, "Repent thee, thou wicked cardinal, of all thy sins and iniquities, especially of the murder of Wishart, that instrument of God for the conversion of these lands : it is his death which now cries vengeance upon thee: we are sent by God to inflict the' deserved punishment. For here, before the Almighty, I protest, that it is neither' hatred of thy person, nor love of thy riches, nor fear of thy power, which moves me to seek thy death: but only because thou hast been, and still remainest, an obstinate enemy to Christ Jesus, and his holy gospel." Having spoken these words, without giving Beaton time to finish that repentance to which he exhotted him, he thrust him through the body, and the cardinal fell dead at his feet. Upon a rumour that the castle was. taken, a great tumult arose in the city;, and several partisans of the cardinal armed themselves with intent to scale the walls. When they were told of his death, they desisted, and the people insisting upon a sight of the cardinal's body, his corpse was exposed to their view from the very same place wherein he sat to behold the execution of George Wishart.

The sanguinary spirit of these times has disappeared, and we look upon what remains to us of the individuals who suffered, or acted under its influence, as memorials of such crimes and criminals as we in a milder age dare not imagine our country can be again afflicted with. The sight of cardinal Beaton's house in the Cowgate, at Edinburgh, may have induced useful reflections on past intolerance, and increased charitable dispositions in some whose persuasions widely differ. If this be so, a representation of it in ■ this sheet may not be less agreeable to the moralist than to the lover of antiquities. The drawing from whence the engraving on the next page is taken, was made on the spot in 1824. >


Lurid Fleur-de-lis. Irid Luridu.
Dedicated to St. Germain.


iHap 29.

St. Maximums, Bp. of Friers, A. D. 349. St. Cyril. St. Cotton and his ton, of Iconia in Asia, about A. D. 275. St*. Sisinnius, Martyrius, and Alexander, A. p. 397.

Restoration Day. This day is so called from its being the anniversary of the day whereon king Charles II, entered London, in 1660, and re-established royalty, which had been suspended from the death of his father. It is usual with the vulgar people to wear oak-leaves in their hats on this day, and dress their horses' heads with them. This is in commemoration of the shelter afforded to Charles by an oak while making his escape from England, after his defeat at Worcester, by Cromwell.

The battle was fought on the 3d of September, 1651; Cromwell having utterly routed his army, Charles left Worcester at six o'clock in the afternoon, and without halting, travelled about twenty-six miles, in company with fifty or sixty of his friends, from whom he separated, without communicating his intentions to any of them, and went to Boscobel, a lone house in the borders of Staffordshire, inhabited by one Penderell, a farmer, to whom he intrusted himself. This man, assisted by his four brothers, clothed the king in a garb like their own, led him into the neighbouring wood, put a bill into his hand, and pretended to employ themselves in cutting faggots. Some nights he lay upon straw in the house, and W on such homely fare as it afforded. For better concealment, he mounted upon »

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