Smoking Oddity.-A coffee-house keeper of Vienna hit upon the following eccentric means of attracting customers. He had a china pipe-bowl suspended over a large circular table, of such gigantic dimensions, as to be capable of containing a pound of tobacco, and supplied with a sufficient number of tubes, to accommodate thirty persons at one time: the novelty succeeded-the coffee-house was constantly crowded-and the landlord subsequently transformed his pipebowl into a chariot.

Giants. The custom of placing celebrated men in gigantic coffins, is a trick to make future generations believe that they were mighty in stature as well as in mind. In Turkey, this has had the desired effect: no orthodox Turk doubts that sultan This, or sultan That, or any other popular idol, was of the size of his coffin.

White-bait is caught in profusion in the Bosphorus ; but the sword-fish ranks first with the epicures of Constantinople. Lamb is more exquisitely dressed in the Turkish kitchen, than in that of any other country.

Caviar is consumed in vast quantities all over the Russian empire it is also sent to Italy; Germany and France take considerable quantities, and England a little. Caviar is a shining brown substance, in small grains, exactly like bramble berries nearly ripe. It is obtained from sturgeons, which are taken in March, in millions, on their spawning beds in the mouth of the Danube, the Dnieper, the Don, or the Volga, where both nets and hooks are employed against the fish. The membranes of the roe being removed, the grains are washed with vinegar, or the cheap white wires of the country; next dried in the air, salted, put into a bag and pressed, and then packed in casks. "After all," says a recent tourist," caviar is not worth the money it is a bitter cucumber-tasted stuff'; is eaten raw, with oil and lemonjuice, and tastes worse than Hamburgh herrings or Swedish salmon. It is, however, one of the most valuable articles of Russian trade; the sales, external and internal, being probably rather above than below the annual value of two millions sterling. An inferior caviar is made from the rows of other large fish."

Salt is given to horses very frequently in Norway; it being a common practice at the post-houses to strew a handful upon a flat stone, often placed there for this purpose.

Catching Crabs.-The foxes at the North Cape are so sharp set as to outdo all others of their kind in cunning. Dr. Henderson assures us that having decided, by a mock fight, which is the strongest fox; they advance to the brink of a precipice, and taking each other by the tail, the weakest descends first, whilst the strongest forms the last in the row, and suspends the whole number till the foremost has seized the crab on the beach. A signal is then given, on which the uppermost fox pulls with all his might, and the rest assist him. This story must be borrowed from the joke of the Irishmen letting each other down from London bridge to catch the silver in the Thames.

The Speculation in Lobsters is very great. Thus, suppose 2000 lobsters to be received in London on a Monday in May, when they will probably sell for £80; whereas, if 10,000 should be brought into the market on the following day, they would sell for only £160! In 1810, one fish salesman in London is known to have lost £1200 per week, for six weeks, by

lobsters!

The principal Street in Bergen is called the Strand, and is swept by the Abigails of the respective families living in it. The Norwegian Cooks beat the dried stock-fish with a mallet, to render it softer and more fitted for boiling, just as our cooks formerly beat steaks before dressing them.

Drunkenness.-There is nothing more useless to the sons of the age than to drink too much ale: the more a drunkard swallows, the less is his wisdom, till he loses his reason. The bird of oblivion sings before those who inebriate themselves, and steals away their souls.-Northern Poem.

A Ready Answer. When Clarke, the traveller, asked, in Sweden, what became of a woman who fell into the shaft of an iron mine that he visited, " Became of her!" said the man to whom he put the question, striking his hand forcibly upon his thigh," she became a pancake."

The Norwegian Cod Fishery is stated to employ 6000 boats, with 25,000 men; the season commencing with February, and lasting seven or eight weeks.

Drinking.-The Norwegians appear to rival their Scandinavian ancestors in draining the bowl. Thus, a peasant boy will drink as many glasses of brandy as would floor a London coalheaver! It is, however, only 3d. or 4d. per bottle.

Odd Privilege.-The executioner of Christiania has the strange right of going annually to each house in that city to ask for money; and if he receive none, he is allowed by law to break a pane of glass.

A Wild-goose Chase.

Ah me! throughout the world
Doth wickedness abound!

And well I wot on neither hand
Can honesty be found!

The wisest man in Athens
About the city ran,

With a lanthorn in the midst of day

To find an honest man.

And when at night he sat him down,
To reckon on his gains,

He only found-alack poor man! His labour for his pains.-May. Coffee-houses in Turkey are the resting-places of benighted travellers, of houseless poor, of all in short who choose. The poor fellows, who sleep on the benches, pay nothing, and have the chance of getting a bit of supper from richer occupants.— Slade.

Cats.-A sou a day is allowed by the Genoese admiralty, for the support of a cat in each ship-of-war. "Dutch Clocks" are made in Germany, "Dutch" being nothing more than a corruption of" Deutsch" (German). An Escape.-Louis XVIII., when living at Dilligen, on the Danube, was once shot at, and the ball grazed his forehead; but the wretch who fired the musket was never discovered.

Battle of Blenheim.-The peasants, to this day, frequently plough up the bones of the slaughtered armies; and the foundation of the roads here is composed of them. This beats Alexander's dust stopping a bung-hole.

German Customs. In the Grand Duchy of MecklenburgSchwerin, at Easter and Michaelmas, there are town and village horse-races, where the victor is rewarded with a richly-ornamented crown, which he wears on the top of his hat he is called the king, and the second-best riders are also dignified with lofty titles. On May Day, it is customary to chalk three crosses on the doors of stables and farm-yards, to preserve the cattle from being bewitched. The peasantry attempt to prophesy the nature of future events, from the form which molten lead assumes when poured into water. On New Year's Eve, they look through the handle of an old key, at the roof of the house, where, if one of the inmates is to die the succeeding year, they believe they shall see a black

coffin.

London: Published for the Proprietors, by W. BRITTAIN, Paternoster Row. Edinburgh: JOHN MENZIES. Glas gow: D. BRYCE.

Printed by J. Rider, 14, Bartholomew Close, London.

HURSTMONCEUX CASTLE.

THE picturesque mass engraved upon the preceding page, stands in the village of Hurstmonceux, seven miles south-east from Battle, the site of the memorable conflict between William duke of Normandy and Harold king of England, in 1066, after William's landing at Pevensey, on the south-eastern Sussex coast. It is worthy of remark, that Battle, at this day, possesses an indirect celebrity in the vain glory of war; the trade of the town consisting chiefly in the manufacture of gunpowder.

Sussex is rich in Roman remains; and Hurstmonceux is about five miles distant from Pevensey, the station named Portus Anderida by our illustrious conquerors. A higher antiquity is, however, claimed for the site of Hurstmonceux; for, beneath a print of the castle, engraved in 1737, we find it described as near the Caer Pensavel Coit of the Britons, whence we infer Pevensey. The former place was called Hyrst by the Saxons, from its situation among woods; and Sussex having been, from the earliest times, one of the most luxuriantly wooded districts of England, we find the name of hurst given to other places in the county besides Hurstmonceux; as Billinghurst, Buckhurst, Coolhurst, Crowhurst, Danehurst, Hurst Perpoint, Lamberhurst, Medhurst, Nuthurst, Ticehurst, and Wakehurst; and Hurst is the name of one of the old Sussex families. This etymology may, however, be too simple for some lovers of antiquarian puzzles.

Soon after the arrival of the Normans, the present Hurstmonceux became the seat of a family, who, from the place, took the name of De Hyrst, or Herst. From the posterity of Walleran de Herst, who assumed the name of Monceux, (which name, also, has from that time been annexed to the place,) it came by marriage to the Fiennes; and Sir Roger Fiennes, treasurer of the household to King Henry VI., in 1483 obtained licence from the sovereign to build here the castle, of which the remains are shown in the Engraving. The style is therefore Perpendicular, or Tudor; and it is, probably, one of our latest built castles, properly so called; for about this time, or earlier, embattled manor-houses became common, and the castle gave place to the castellated mansion; which was, in its turn, rendered better adapted to the wants and conveniences of more peaceful times. The licence to build the castle could hardly have been necessary at this period, for the original object of such a grant, ("Licentia battellare, kernellare, et machicolare,") was to check the confederation of the lawless barons, by ordaining that it should not be lawful to erect any castle without a licence; this was in the reign of Henry II.; and the earliest licence which is known to have been granted, was that to Lord Chancellor Scrope, authorising him to build a castle at Bolton.

Hurstmonceux Castle was of brick, with window and doorcases, copings, and water-tables, of stone; and as bricks did not come into general use until the fifteenth century, this must have been one of the earliest large structures built with such material. Cowdray, towards the northwest corner of the same county, also of brick, was built in the reign of Henry VIII.; but this rather resembles an embattled mansion than a castle. This employment of bricks is singular, seeing that good stone is found in the county. Hurstmonceux Castle continued in the Fiennes family, till, with Margaret, grand-daughter of Thomas Lord Dacre, it passed to Sampson Lennard, Esq., whose descendant, Thomas Lennard, Earl of Sussex, lived much here; but a few years before his death he sold it, and, about 1777, all except the principal entrance, was taken down, and the best materials used in building a mansion in the neighbourhood.

The Cut shows the towers flanking the principal doorway, over which was formerly, within a compartment, the

alant, or wolf-dog sejant, holding the banner of Fiennes. The corbels of the parapet are tolerably perfect; but the machicolations have disappeared, except from the wall of the wing to the left. Judging from this fragment, the entire castle must have impressed the traveller with the magnificence of feudal state, in which "safe bind" seems to have been the leading maxim. The age of the castle is less than four centuries; but, from its substantial materials, (for brick is much more lasting than is commonly supposed,) it would have remained for ages a characteristic of the wealth of the early lords of Sussex, had it not been dismantled, and, as it were, converted into a structure far less worthy of the attention of the architectural inquirer, or the admirer of antiquities.

While sister arts in rivalry combine
For Canning's honour-Sculpture and Design-
Verse claims her portion; a memorial line
Such as he loved, and fittest to rehearse
His merit and his praises. Truth in verse,
The pride of Honour and the love of Truth,
Adorn'd his age and dignified his youth,
Approv'd through life, and tried by every test,
In power, in favour, in disgrace, confessed
The first of his coevals and the best.
Ever the same; with wit correctly pure,
Reason miraculously premature;
Vivid imagination ever new,
Decision instantaneously true,
An eager and precipitated power

Of hasty thought, outstripping in an hour
What tardier wits with toil of many a day
Polish'd to less perfection by delay.
By nature gifted with a power and skill
To charm the heart and subjugate the will;
Born with an ancient name of little worth,
And disinherited before his birth;

A landless orphan-rank, and wealth, and pride
Were freely rang'd around him ;-nor denied
His clear precedence, and the warrant given
Of nobler rank, stamp'd by the hand of Heav'n,
In every form of genius and of grace,
In loftiness of thought, figure, and face.
Such Canning was: and half a century past,
Such all the world beheld him to the last;
Admir'd of all, and by the best approv'd,
By those who best had known him best belov'd;
His sovereign's support, the people's choice,
When Europe's balance trembled on the poise,
Call'd to command by their united voice;
Fate snatch'd him from th' applauding world; the first
Omen of Europe's danger, and the worst."
Malta, 1827.

MOORISH COSTUME.

J. H. F.

In the late Mr. Frank Hall Standish's valuable collec tion, (unfortunately, for this country, splenetically bequeathed to the King of the French,) was the picture of a Christian Sibyl painted by Murillo, and dressed in the female Moorish garb of Granada. The painter lived at a time which was not so far distant from the Moorish dominion in Spain, that the traces of its fashions had altogether disappeared; and, depicted by him, they are as follow: the hair falls long and flowing over the shoulders; the head is bound with rose-coloured linen, from which descends a yellow scarf, almost reaching to the feet, and

serving, probably, to cover the neck and breast like a shawl, if required: a large emerald, in a gold lozenge, attaches the scarf over the forehead, and another unites a yellow handkerchief to a green boddice at the breast, which is terminated at the knees by a golden fringe; a broad rosecoloured girdle encircles the waist, and a purple velvet dress, turned up with a black fillet of the same material, falls to the middle of the legs, which are clothed in un

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tanned leather boots, with spurs. The arms are covered from the shoulders to the elbows with loose sleeves, the skirts of which fall in a point as low as the fingers. These are in broad stripes of blue and white linen or silk. Such was, probably, the dress of a Moorish female of condition, as confirmed by a Spanish writer, speaking of the costumes used at Granada at the above period. Q.

Roule ses vagues de lumière ;

Du berger matinal déjà j'entends la voix;
Dors, ô cher petit, dors, pour la dernière fois,
Sur le sein brûlant de ta mère !

Mais non, réveille-toi, car au souffle du vent
S'enfle déjà la voile avide; ô mon enfant,
Que je t'allaite encore!

Hélas! c'est mon dernier, mon seul gage d'amour,
Avant que loin de toi la brise, sans retour,
M'emporte aux rives de l'aurore.

Adieu, mon cher petit! ton regard enfantin
Ne me sourira plus, et répondra demain
Aux caresses d'une étrangère:

Mais, si le Ciel un jour t'accorde le bonheur,
Tes yeux auront peut être une larme, et ton cœur
Un soupir pour ta pauvre mère !

The Armourer of Paris.

A. G.

A ROMANCE OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

CHAP. IX.-The attack upon the Hotel St. Paul. THE alarm created by the entrance of Isabelle, and the troops of Burgundy, into the city, soon spread over every quarter. The sentinels on the ramparts catching the sound of the mighty uproar, and perceiving the red glare in the sky from the conflagration of Leclerc's house, the flames from which now rose above the surrounding buildings, illuminating all the adjacent spires and towers with a vivid glare, passed the word of danger from one to the other; and in a few minutes it had gone the round of the city-at least that part of it which was situated on the south bank of the Seine. Nor was the alarm confined to the localities immediately contiguous to the walls. The different movements which were going on in the crowded streets between the Porte St. Germain, and the Rue de la Harpe-the frequent passage of the couriers, as their horses clattered furiously along them, to points with which it was necessary to be in communication-the constant thronging of horsemen and persons bearing torches through the usually deserted thoroughfares, and all the growing bustle attendant upon the eve of so eventful a struggle, had awakened from slumber all the inhabitants of the quarters principally disturbed by the émeute. Rising from their beds, they left their houses and sought the streets, to gain some information as to the cause of the wild uproar. But no one had time, or cared to answer their questions; and, hurried on by the throng of archers, cavalry, and the excited multitude that accompanied them, they were irresistibly borne along towards the heart of the city.

But a short time elapsed ere the alarm became general. A few of the more resolute of Isabelle's troops, by the orders of Perinet, pressed on towards the Petit Pont, bearing down all who opposed their progress; and on reaching the abode of the armourer, distributed all the weapons they found in his workshop to the bourgeois and

SLEEP on, dear babe, the morning star
Is seen no more-and lo, from far

Comes glitt'ring dawn in glory drest;
The early shepherd's voice I hear,
Then rest thine head once more, my dear,
Upon thy mother's ardent breast!
Ah no! awake, for there I see
Yon full-sail'd vessel comes for me,-

Once more thy wonted thirst allay! Take one more pledge of love from me, Ere I'm for ever torn from thee,

Borne by the tempest far away. Farewell, dear babe! thy lovely smile Will ne'er henceforth my heart beguile, Anon a stranger's thou shalt be. But yet, should Heav'n permit thee, dear, For me thine eyes shall shed a tear,

And thou shalt heave a sigh for me!

T. S. H.

rabble that followed them. A few of the Constable's guard, collected hurriedly together, offered some slight resistance at the foot of the bridge; but they were soon overcome, the excited revolters hurling all those who were not immediately cut down over the low parapet of the bridge into the rapid Seine, wherein, by reason of their heavy and cumbersome armour, they were drowned. Passing into the open space before the cathedral of Nôtre Dame, they halted for a few minutes, to collect themselves into something like order; then, again pressing on over the Pont au Change, on the northern side of the Isle du Palais, they divided into two unequal parties. The lesser one proceeded to take possession of the Hôtel de Ville, dispatching a few men to sound the dreaded tocsin from the bell-tower of St. Germain l'Auxerrois; and the more powerful division immediately commenced an attack upon the Grand Châtelet, where they knew many favourable to their cause, and, from their station, likely to exert some influence over the citizens, were in confinement.

Ten minutes after the bell had rung its sounds of omen over Paris, the city was in a state of general insurrection. The windows of the majority of the buildings were lighted up in haste, such being the almost compulsory usage upon such occasions; and the tenants of the smaller houses following this example, the city was speedily illuminated in every part. In an hour from the period of the entrance of the Bourguignions, the most powerful barricades had been thrown up in the various streets, composed, in lieu of paving stones, of furniture, unceremoniously taken from the adjacent houses; whilst the populace, on gaining access to the châtelet, found the majority of the chains which had been used, up to 1382, to barricade the streets and the river; and fixing them to the gigantic hooks which still remained in the corner houses, thus effectually precluded the attacks of an opposing force.

The reader may possibly remember that we left Master Bourdichon enclosed in the observatory of Leclerc's house, at the time it was set fire to. As Perinet had opened the tower door, the honest bourgeois was not long in gaining the streets; and being recognised by the crowd, he was

immediately ordered to conduct a detachment of the queen's troops to the Hotel St. Paul, the palace which formed the residence of the Constable, and where it was known he had the hapless king in his charge. He was not long in obeying the command, partly because he saw the utter futility of offering any thing like opposition to their orders, but principally from his wish to look after the safety of his own home, which was situated close to the hotel; and where the struggle would in all probability be the fiercest, from the contiguity of the Bastile, which was garrisoned with the chief part of D'Armagnac's available forces. Being mounted upon a horse, with an archer on each side of him, as much for the sake of keeping him on his steed, as to prevent him from deserting the party, he set forth; and leading them to the Tournelle, they crossed the river in detachments, seizing all the boats they could find, and by this means arrived on the quai adjoining the hotel much sooner than they could have done by going through the city, and across the bridges, all of which were by this time barricaded and impassable. Collecting on the river's-bank in silence, the troops then rushed on to the Rue St. Antoine, and, as they now were perfectly acquainted with the localities, took less heed of their guide. Whereupon Master Bourdichon, perceiving that he was approaching his house, gave a loud cheer of encouragement, and crying out, "Down with Armagnac," quietly turned into his own porte cochère, which stood open, and slipped off from his horse. From the passage a small panel conducted into the shop, and of this he had contrived to preserve the key in the confusion. But he was somewhat surprised to find it yielded with extreme difficulty to his efforts, as if a powerful force was counteracting his endeavours on the other side. Bringing all his strength into play, he pushed it open, and was somewhat relieved in his ideas of plunder and invasion, to find the obstacle was no other than his wife; who, half dead with fear, from the tumult in the street, the alarm-bell, and the distant conflagrations, had placed a heavy chair against the panel, and seated herself in it, the more effectually to repel any intruders.

As Bourdichon entered, encased in armour, and begrimed with dirt and smoke, the first act of his better half was to fall down on her knees and implore mercy, taking him for one of the invading party. But the sound of his voice recalled her to her senses.

"Sainte Marie!" she exclaimed, "it is only my husband!"

"The same, wife; the same;" gasped the bourgeois, sinking down into the chair his wife had quitted: "Real flesh and bone, and naught beside."

"And what is all this dreadful uproar?" demanded his wife. "For the last half hour the fearful tumult has almost deprived me of my faculties."

Master Bourdichon inwardly wished that speech might have ranked amongst the deprivations. But, fearing to excite his wife's anger, when he had no one to defend him, he merely answered, "They are going to kill the constable."

As he spoke, a ray of light, more vivid than any which had yet been perceived, shot up amidst the roar of a thousand wild voices, and apparently close to Bourdichon's abode, rendering the apartment as light as noontide, and every object distinctly visible.

"Tis the Hotel St. Paul!" cried Dame Bourdichon. "They have set fire to it!"

They could not find the constable," replied the bourgeois; " and so they mean to roast him alive in his hiding-place."

"The flames increase!" exclaimed his wife," and may possibly catch our house! I have left the top windows

open, and the wind will carry the burning embers into the chamber."

"I will go and close them," returned her husband. "If they knock without in my absence, do not answer. Master Bourdichon! with the most innocent intentions, into what a wasp's nest have you thrust your unlucky head!"

As Bourdichon departed up-stairs, grumbling as he went, his wife hastily tried the various fastenings of the apartment. The shutter of the window remained insecure, and she approached to close it, when a violent blow upon the outside made her shrink back, terrified and powerless. The knocks were repeated; she heard the glass of the casement shivered to pieces, and immediately afterwards, the shutter was beaten forcibly into the room, and D'Armagnac appeared at the opening, pale and distracted; his dagger in his teeth, and staggering beneath the weight of a body which he was carrying. With some difficulty he passed through the low window, and entered the room.

66

Silence, woman, on your life!" he exclaimed sternly, as Dame Bourdichon commenced crying loudly for aid. Holy mother!" cried the dame, recognising him, “i "it is the Constable!"

66

For an instant D'Armagnac replied not; but placing his burthen, enveloped in a long grey mantle, in a chair, closed the window, as well as its shattered state would allow, and hastily replaced the shutter. Then, turning to the dame he said:

"You are right-I am D'Armagnac, the constable of France, and I place myself under your protection! Holy powers!" he continued energetically, "to be thus surprised in the middle of the night, without arms or defence. But I will yet escape the felons who have betrayed me; they will not think to search me here. Woman! you will not betray me?"

"My lord!" cried the dame, overcome to find herself in such august presence, "I swear to keep your secret. But you are not alone;" and she pointed to the form he had brought with him.

"It is an old man," replied the Constable; "an old servant, whose room was on fire as I left the hotel: he would have been burnt had I not brought him here."

"Look you, how he trembles !" exclaimed Dame Bourdichon.

The unhappy king, for it was indeed Charles whom D'Armagnac had brought with him, feebly put aside a portion of the mantle that covered his face; and, looking with a vacant expression at the constable, muttered: "I am cold-very, very cold."

Quick! quick! mother!" cried D'Armagnac; rekindle the fire; the hand of this old man is cold as ice."

"I will go and seek some wood, my lord," she replied, as she left the apartment. For the last few minutes the tumult in the street had been less violent, or probably the dame would have lacked courage to go alone.

"Still, those cries," thought D'Armagnac, as he heard the distant shouts, Burgundy! Burgundy! in the heart of Paris! "Who could have given up the keys? Fool that I was, to allow myself to be surprised like a child—to know that whilst I was sleeping, treason kept its untiring watch. All is not yet lost: the king, whom my enemies are now seeking in all directions, is there-there, in my power! Oh, that he could but understand me! But he remains insensible to all around him; he is even unconscious of my presence."

He approached the King, and, seizing his emaciated arm, endeavoured to rouse him from his apathy.

"Sire!" he exclaimed, with vehemence, "I-your Constable-have saved your life! The Bourguignians