hissed as it received him, and no eye ever beheld him more. Early on the following morning came the female friends of Elsbeth, with nosegays and garlands, to deck the new-married pair; and the whole village flocked after them. But the hand of destruction was visible every where they recognized the features of their friends in the group of rocks; and the maidens, sobbing aloud, wreathed their flowers around the stony forms of their once beloved friends. After this, all present sank upon their knees, and prayed for the souls of the departed. "Peace be with them," a venerable old man at length broke the deep silence with these words: :-"Peace be with them, -they passed away in love and joy together arm on arm and heart on heart they died. Be their graves perpetually adorned with fresh flowers, and let these rocks remain, as a memorial to us, that no evil spirit has power over pure hearts-that true love is approved even in death itself." After that day, many an enamoured pair performed a pilgrimage to Hans Heiling's rocks, and invoked the blessing and protection of the souls in bliss. This pious usage has died away, but the tradition still lives in the hearts of the people; and, even at this day, the guide who conducts strangers up the fearful valley of the Eger, to HANS HEILING'S ROCKS, pronounces the names of Arnold and Elsbeth, and points out the forms of stone into which they were metamorphosed, together with the father of the bride, and the remainder of the guests. It is reported, that there was heard, some years since, a frightful and unaccountable roaring of the Eger, at the part where Hans Heiling had precipitated himself into it; and no one passed by at that time, without crossing himself, and commending his soul to the Lord. › SONNET. Calm is thy silver bosom, lovely Clyde ! As if they slept in flying. Even so Wert thou, sweet stream, ere on thy verdant side Of time shall desolate the busy scene, Haply in some far distant future age On such an eve a traveller may lean Amid thy ruinous domes, while on his page, He writes with trembling hand, Here men have been. SONNET. To Robinson Crusoe. Friend of my childhood! many a weary day And mourn'd to mark upon thy check the tear X. Y. X. Y.. BRIEF SKETCH OF THE REV. JOSIAH STREAMLET. SOME twenty years ago, I remember a call of business led me to the dwelling of the Rev. Josiah Streamlet. He was then, what might be termed the Parish Priest. Frugality in early life, a chaplaincy in the Collegiate Church, aided by other emoluments, conjointly flowing from his avocations as old book-vender, classical preceptor, surrogate, and civilian, had raised him far above want. The house which he inhabited, had long been his own by purchase; and, with a reputable external appearance, contained all the substantial blessings which render life comfortable. Yet the faded relics of a large bough, some few months before green and inviting, hung above the door, and gave no favourable presage of the beings that were within it. Year after year was this emblem renewed; and year after year, did its veteran possessor recruit his shattered strength, and falsify the mortal predictions of his neighbours and friends. His domestic economy was peculiar and laughable. His establishment consisted of a well-fed housekeeper, verging towards three score; a pert damsel, (her niece), two cats, three pigeons, and a monkey. Latterly, however, the monkey was discarded, for he claimed relationship with the girl, and his master could not arbitrate between two of a species.-Himself a confirmed bachelor, notwithstanding the insinuations of a world that lives upon scandal, he expected those that were about him, to humour his whims, indulge his caprices, and, having done so, to gratify their own, without fear of controul. Thus habituated for years, he sought to regulate the world, as he managed his own penetralia; and often, with * the best intentions, subjected himself to ridicule and abuse, merely by the thoughtlessness that characterized his interruptions. In passing along the streets, not a squabble could occur in which he did not speedily participate; no imaginary abuse could exist, which he did not feel authorized to reform. Hence, a zeal, praiseworthy enough in its origin, but tempered by no prudence, nor restrained by any considerations of time and place, often drew upon him the sarcasms and ridicule of a population, not the most civilized; and, what was worse, created an unchristian disposition towards his order in general. This unfortunate propensity, if faults, like diseases, be hereditary, he inherited from his father; although the more cultivated associations of a clerical life, prevented its appearing in such outrageous acts, as are attributed to the sire.* Often, too, has he been known, when engaged in the most sacred offices of religion, to exclaim against irregularities which had caught his eye; or, even, in the temporary respite of a chaunt, to descend from the reading desk, and correct them himself. Once, indeed, upon an occasion of this kind, he allowed an exclamation to intrude between the connecting words of a passage in the burial service, which furnished the subject of a laughable caricature. This was speedily exhibited in the booksellers' windows; and against the original publisher he very properly commenced a prosecution. In the end, he obtained a handsome sum of money; whether as a compromise, or by verdict, is now immaterial; which he liberally presented to a charitable institution. In relating this circumstance, He, the father, was, for many of his latter years, a perfect cripple, and sat, for days together, at his son's front door. But he was a man of the most violent passions, and the singularity of his appearance, occasioned by a large red night-cap, and legs clothed with brass, gave a forbidding, and rather horrible character to his person: indeed, his common appellation was Pontius Pilate. One day some gibe was exchanged between him and a huxter, who was returning to her home in the Lg M- -e. The old man's choler was raised, and determined to avenge the insult, he watched her return to the Market Place, and despatched the servant for a sedan chair. On arriving in the place, he hobbled up to the huxter's stall; and supporting himself with one crutch, began to belabour the woman most furiously with the other. This aggravated appeal to arms, was speedily met by a reprisal ; and in a few moments, half the women in the market were at the old man's head, with their leaden quarts and scales. The contest was fiercely maintained for some time; till, as the story goes, an officer interfered, and the offender was ultimately lodged in the for a breach of the public peace. " (for he made no scruple in repeating a joke even at his own expense) "he wished," he said, "he had kept it; for a great flood shortly afterwards carried away the boundary wall of my premises, and the purse in question would have built it up again nicely.' Yet, he was a man, than whom none were deeper versed in the lore of the church, or held its sacred institutions in more reverence and awe. His enunciation, though extremely rapid, was clear and emphatic; to the reading of the Sacred Scriptures, he imparted a delightful pathos, and the most discriminating euphony; and although his manners and cast of feature did not challenge a very favourable estimate of the sensibilities of his heart, there were particular parts of the Bible, through which the conflict of his feelings invariably prevented him from proceeding. He had that sacred Depository, indeed, (to use a common phrase), at his finger ends;" and with a memory surprisingly tenacious for his years, he would dwell, to the delight and edification of his juniors, upon the treasured beautics of the classic page, or recount, with singular fidelity, the past occurrences of his own eventful life. Not his least remarkable characteristic, was the precision with which he could detail the date or standing of old university men ;or, in his usual phrase," who were ordained in the year of our Lord, 1781, in June, in June in the third week, by Beilby Porteus, at Arburnham, when Nette was vicar, and Dickson preached the ordination sermon, and Watts read the prayers; he did, I know."-The expression " he did, I know; ay, he did"-almost invariably terminated his chronological narratives. Whenever accident, or the turn of conversation, introduced him to a reverend brother, the Oxford or Cambridge calendars were produced at the first opportunity: his college, offices, and degree were speedily ascertained, and by the rank which he then held, the estimate of his present character was formed. Thus, in a series of years, he had acquired a tolerably correct knowledge of almost every member of the profession within an extensive circle; and as his own elevation had been attained by the unbeaten track of study and perseverance, he was particularly jealous of its undue assumption, or ostentatious display, when less honourably gotten. A fellow minister, with more vanity than discretion, had once an unpleasant specimen of this scrupulous punctilio. Being only B. A. he appeared in a long sleeved gown at his diocesan's visitation. This did not pass unnoticed by his clerical associates; some of whom were longing to take him to task. The subject of this memoir soon after entered the church, and was not long in ignorance of the circumstance. One whispered-"Streamlet! there's Monson in a silk gown!"-Another"Streamlet! he's only B. A. !"—He needed not much prompting. Forcing his way through the clustered hierarchy, vicars, rectors, curates and incumbents, to the spot where his intended victim awaited the Bishop's salutation, he twitched him by the sleeve, and significantly wished him joy of his degree. The other was aware of the meaning, and confusedly replied, that he had been fifteen or sixteen years on the college books, and could take it any time. "What does that signify?” rejoined Streamlet; "you're only B.A. in the last calendar." When in the humour, too, the traits of private character which he would record, particularly of predecessors in the collegiate body, and the stories which he retailed immediately from his parents, of local occurrences at the time of the last Rebellion, in which Mr took so conspicuous a part, were highly humorous and amusing. One is too laughable to be passed over, although its repetition may require an apology. It was of a little dumpy man, by profession a barrister, who had a huge impediment in his speech. He went by the name of Counsellor Lowe; and being a rank jacobite, when the Pretender was in M-r, he was privately introduced at the Palace Inn, and kissed his hand. This circumstance, some how or other, was communicated to Government; and one morning, very early, when walking in his flannel gown upon Ridgefield Flags, where he resided, and smoking, as was his practice, he was arrested by a party of military on a charge of High Treason. He was hurried up to London, and when taken before the Privy Council, was asked, amongst other questions, if he had not kissed the Pretender's hand?-"Yes! by G-," said he, "I did; and I, I, I'd ha, ha, have k-k- kissed his a- a—a— a-, to get quit of him!" The device was successful; and his stammering saved his neck. Even whilst cultivating the muses in a cloistered seclusion, the singularities of the worthy gentleman's life were no less the object of attention than the resources of his mind, which, at this early period, he turned to some account, by assisting those who were less happy in their acquirements. Nor can it be condemned in one who had barely the means of subsistence, and yet, by personal denial and exertion, contributed not a little to the consolation and assistance of indigent and infirm parents. To his latest years, did he delight in retracing the circumstances of this era, and in narrating the various manoeuvres by which he prevented deficiencies in his limited finances. Conscious, therefore, of the station to which, at least, his acquirements as a scholar, and his situation in the church, so justly entitled him, may it seem surprising, if the ridicule, excited by his peculiarities, in time produced an asperity of speech, painful in a great degree, to some, and little less than insulting to others. Enemies, it is believed, he had none; for though the old smiled, and the young jeered, both old and young were ready to serve him with alacrity and zeal. If he had enemies indeed, it was amongst those who are equally the enemies of all good men; and who could expect no compromise in the stern severity of his reproof. For his interferences in matters which did not concern him, any apology would be foolish, because they were unpardonable; and, indeed, they carried with them their own antidote, as a hearty laugh, and "Well, done, Jossy!" were generally the salutations returned. But in those instances, where he considered the sanctity of his order invaded, or the proprieties of decorum violated, the character alone of his rebuke was reprehensible, the object never. All acknowledged his usefulness and vigilance, though none approved of the spirit with which he evinced it. He might not have known that a soft answer turneth away wrath, or that an unruly race, "pietate gravem, ac meritis si forte virumquem, Conspexere, silent !” V. lib. I. His appeal was never to the reason, and invective is a feeble argument. Once, in the market-place, whilst read ing a bill of a black and white spaniel that was missing, a plain, clumsy-looking fellow, similarly engaged, as coolly as impudently, and just loud enough to catch his ear, read the bill thus"Lost! a black and white coloured parson: answers to the name of Jossy, &c. &c."-Silence would have been the most prudent course; but, regardless of the time, the place, and the insignificance of the offender, he burst upon him with a torrent of sarcastic and angry reproach; and thus, instead of wisely pocketting" an unavoidable insult, rashly involved himself in a personal and degrading quarrel with a contemptible blackguard. These occurrences were not unfrequent; and, by them, he forfeited that little reverence, which, in a populous manufacturing district, is assigned to the clergy. 66 The Rev. Gentleman was somewhat diminutive in person, and age had added to his corpulence. His gait was broken and imperfect; a kind of shuffling amble, latterly assisted by a stick. Long and impending eye-brows, the partial flush in his cheeks, a shrill, unmelodious voice, and rapid utterance, gave a tartness and pungency to his address, by no means prepossessing. His habiliments, upon common occasions, were but a degree better than a common mechanic's. He wore a hat with very large brims; a square cut coat, whose jet had yielded to a dusky brown; small-clothes of the same tinge, with plain worsted stockings and thick shoes. When without a stick, his left hand was generally crammed into his outer coat-pocket, and from the corresponding one, an old book or two regularly peep'd; whilst his right, if not laden with the same commodity, was carefully jammed into the pocket of his waistcoat, where his spectacles lay. Indeed, had it not been for the air of independence, inseparable from ease and plenty, added to some certain grains of powder, which lingered on his coat collar, he would have passed for a respectable petty shopkeeper, or the bustling verger of a cathedral church. Yet, so familiar had this homeliness become to his neighbours and acquaintance, that any deviation from it would have created surprise. On the Sabbath-day, however, the contrast was great. His hair was combed and powdered with the most scrupulous exactness; a handsome suit of black, and a clean ruffled shirt, were carefully placed upon the maiden before the parlour fire; his black silk stockings, and brightly polished shoes, were put in requisition and ere the first bell tolled for morning service, he issued from his door, closely enveloped in his silken robes, a three-cornered beaver perched upon his head, and beautifully white bands pendant from his cravat. The duties of his calling performed, the coat and waistcoat were exchanged for a large blue dressing gown, and carefully laid upon the sofa the leathern shoes were superseded by the list; the cravat altogether discarded as cumbrous or extravagant, and the Sunday spectacles deposited in the case. regret. "Strip the surplice, sir," was the only reply, and when it was deposited in the chapter house, the chaplain banged the door, turned the key, put it in his pocket, and hurried home, muttering "My horse, indeed," for the next two hours. NYONING 10 2 The comfort of his declining years was painfully interrupted by the infirmities of age. Yet, although bending beneath the weight of accumulated disorder, with one foot literally in the grave, the same unshaken zeal, the same uncompromising decision, the same fervid vehemence of manner, continued to distinguish him. Occasionally, it is true, the mind seemed to participate in the weaknesses of its earthly tenement, and to betray the petulant dissatisfactions of second childishness. But these misgivings were rare and accidental-the effect of acute suffering, or temporary debility. Never, indeed, whilst he could drag his enfeebled members to its threshold, did he neglect the place which had been through life the object of his affection, and the never-ending subject of his boast. Nay, towards the last, when the service has been concluded, and the attendants have all been retired, he has lingered alone within its venerable walls, as if there were in the place a secret influence which he loved to cherish-a link of affection between Happy would it have been for the Rector of Ellwood, had he been introduced to the old gentleman, in this holy-day attire. The usual hour for marriage at the parish church, was twelve at noon, and the latter, on arriving as usual about that time, was surprised to find the parties already at the altar, and an entire stranger performing the ceremony. In him, how ever, he speedily recognized an old acquaintance, to whom a valuable preferment had early devolved; and, when the service was performed, he accosted him with Well, Nette! what, in the name of goodness, brings you here?" at the same time presenting his hand. The beneficed rec-it and his heart, which he was conscitor no longer recognized a former comate in the shabby little figure that so familiarly claimed his notice, and haughtily retorted-" My horse, sir, to be sure."-This was not to be borne. "What, sir, what," exclaimed the astonished chaplain, "do you not know this is the Collegiate Church, and I, the chaplain of it? My name is Josiah Streamlet; your name is Nette; you're rector of Arburnham, in Derbyshire: we were ordained together, sir, in 1781, July, and drank tea together in the evening. You have usurped my office: I marry here, sir: that's my surplice, sir; pray, sir, walk into the Chapter ous must shortly be severed. And there must have been something-in the obscurity which gradually enveloped the lofty arches and spacious recesses of the edifice, increasing their vastness by the indefinite image presented to the imagination, as the remnant of day faded from the walls-in the wind occasionally sweeping through the heavy-fretted canopy of the chancel-in the simple melody of the chimes, rudely performing the accustomed chaunt in the recollection of the days and years that had been devoted to the ALMIGHTY in that holy place-of the attacks it had withstood, those House, and strip it directly; my horse! and the souls it hadthin its sanc indeed!" Then posting down the chancel Aspinwall, Aspinwall, As pinwall," vociferated he, "go and take that surplice; what made you let that man take my surplice ? you don't know what kind of persons put it on!" In vain did the now enlightened rector deprecate the chaplain's wrath: in vain plead ignorance, surprise and that had triumphed tuaries, and the many then at peace within its vaults of the joys that it had hallowed, and the sorrows that it had healed-which would present to a mind tempered, as was his, by age, and humiliated by infirmity, no unapt subjects for contemplation. Could one dive into the recesses of a soul, amid |