Here followeth the History of HATTO, Archbishop of Mentz. It hapned in the year 914, that there was an exceeding great famine in Germany, at what time Otho surnamed the Great was Emperor, and one Hatto, once Abbot of Fulda, was Archbishop of Mentz, of the Bishops after Crescens and Crescentius the two and thirtieth, of the Archbishops after

St. Bonifacius the thirteenth. This Hatto in the time of

this great famine afore-mentioned, when he saw the poor people of the country exceedingly oppressed with famine, assembled a great company of them together into a Barne, and, like a most accursed and mercilesse caitiffe, burnt up those poor innocent souls, that were so far from doubting any such matter, that they rather hoped to receive some comfort and relief at his hands. The reason that moved the

prelat to commit that execrable impiety was, because he thought the famine would the sooner cease, if those unprofitable beggars that consumed more bread than they were worthy to eat, were dispatched out of the world. For he said that those poor folks were like to Mice, that were good for nothing but to devour corne. But God Almighty, the just avenger of the poor folks' quarrel, did not long suffer this hainous tyranny, this most detestable fact, unpunished. For he mustered up an army of Mice against the Archbishop, and sent them to persecute him as his furious Alastors, so that they afflicted him both day and night, and would not suffer him to take his rest in any place. Whereupon the Prelate, thinking that he should be secure from the injury of Mice if he were in a certain tower, that

standeth in the Rhine near to the towne, betook himself unto the said tower as to a safe refuge and sanctuary from his enemies, and locked himself in. But the innumerable troupes of Mice chased him continually very eagerly, and swumme unto him upon the top of the water to execute the just judgment of God, and so at last he was most miserably devoured by those sillie creatures; who pursued him with such bitter hostility, that it is recorded they scraped and knawed out his very name from the walls and tapistry wherein it was written, after they had so cruelly devoured his body. Wherefore the tower wherein he was eaten up by the Mice is shewn to this day, for a perpetual monument to all succeeding ages of the barbarous and inhuman tyranny of this impious Prelate, being situate in a little green Island in the midst of the Rhine near to the towne of Bingen, and is commonly called in the German Tongue the MowSE-TURN. CORYAT's Crudities, pp. 571, 572. Other authors who record this tale say that the Bishop was eaten by Rats.

THE summer and autumn had been so wet, That in winter the corn was growing yet;

The Painter grew pale, for he knew it no joke; 'Twas a terrible height, and the scaffolding broke, The Devil could wish it no higher.

13.

Many Devils the Artist had painted of yore, But he never had tried a live Angel before, — St. Anthony, help him and save!

7.

From the canvass the Virgin extended her arm; She caught the good Painter; she saved him from harm;

There were hundreds who saw in the street.

14.

The Old Dragon fled when the wonder he spied,
And cursed his own fruitless endeavor;
While the Painter call'd after his rage to deride,
Shook his pallet and brushes in triumph, and cried,
"I'll paint thee more ugly than ever!"

THE SECOND PART.

1.

THE Painter so pious all praise had acquired
For defying the malice of Hell;

The Monks the unerring resemblance admired;
Not a Lady lived near but her portrait desired
From a hand that succeeded so well.

2.

One there was to be painted the number among
Of features most fair to behold;
The country around of fair Marguerite rung;
Marguerite she was lovely, and lively, and young;
Her husband was ugly and old.

3.

O Painter, avoid her! O Painter, take care,
For Satan is watchful for you!

Take heed lest you fall in the Wicked One's snare;
The net is made ready; O Painter, beware
Of Satan and Marguerite too.

4.

To the Woman, the Tempter, and Fate. It was settled the Lady, so fair to behold, Should elope from her Husband, so ugly and old, With the Painter, so pious of late.

The colors are ready, the canvass is spread; He lays on the white, and he lays on the red, And the features of beauty arise.

5.

He is come to her eyes, eyes so bright and so blue!
There's a look which he cannot express; —
His colors are dull to their quick-sparkling hue;
More and more on the lady he fixes his view;
On the canvass he looks less and less.

6.

In vain he retouches; her eyes sparkle more, And that look which fair Marguerite gave!

In the corner old Beelzebub lay;

He smirks, and he smiles, and he leers with a grace, That the Painter might catch all the charms of his face,

Then vanish'd in lightning away.

14.

Quoth the Painter, "I trust you'll suspect me no

more,

Since you find my assertions were true. But I'll alter the picture above the Church-door, For he never vouchsafed me a sitting before, And I must give the Devil his due."

Westbury, 1798.

450

ST. MICHAEL'S CHAIR.

"Know all men that the most Holy Father Gregory, in the year
from the incarnation of our Lord 1070, bearing an affection
of extraordinary devoutness to the Church of St. Michael's
Mount, has piously granted to all the faithful who shall reach
or visit it, with their oblations and alms, a remission of a
third part of their penances."At the beginning of the 15th
century, "Because, it was said, this privilege is still un-
known to many, therefore we the servants of God, and the
ministers of this church in Christ, do require and request
of all of you who possess the care of souls, for the sake of
mutual accommodation, to publish these words in your re-
spective churches; that your parishioners and subjects may
be more carefully animated to a greater exhortation of de-
voutness, and may more gloriously in pilgrimages frequent
this place, for the gracious attainment of the gifts and indul-
gencies aforesaid." From this publication of the privilege
did undoubtedly commence that numerous resort of pilgrims
to the church which Carew intimates; and of which Nor-
den, who generally is the mere copier of Carew, yet is here
the enlarger of him, says, "The Mount hath been much re-
sorted unto by pilgrims in devotion to St. Michael." Then
too was framed assuredly that seat on the tower, which is
so ridiculously described by Carew, as "a little without the
castle, - - a bad seat in a craggy place, somewhat danger-
ous for access;" when it is a chair composed of stones pro-
jecting from the two sides of the tower battlements, and
uniting into a kind of basin for a seat just at the south-
western angle, but elevated above the battlements on each
side, having its back just within, and hanging high over the
rocky precipice below. It thus "appears somewhat dan-
gerous" indeed, but not merely "for access," though the
climber to it must actually turn his whole body at that alti-
tude to take his seat in it, but from the altitude itself, and
from its projection over the precipice. It also appears an
evident addition to the building. And it was assuredly made
at this period, not for the ridiculous purpose to which alone
it professedly ministers at present, that of enabling women
who sit in it to govern their husbands afterwards; but for
such of the pilgrims as had stronger heads, and bolder
spirits, to complete their devotions at the Mount, by sitting
in this St. Michael's Chair, as denominated, and these show-
ing themselves as pilgrims, to the country round. Hence, in
an author who lends us information without knowing it, as
he alludes to customs without feeling the force of them, we
read this transient information:

Who knows not Mighel's Mount and Chair,
The pilgrim's holy vaunt?

Norden also reëchoes Carew, in saying, "St. Michael's
chair is fabled to be in the Mount." We thus find a reason
for the construction of the chair, that comports with all the
uses of the church on which it is constructed, and that min-
istered equally with this to the purposes of religion then
predominant; a religion, dealing more in exteriors than our
own, operating more than our own, through the body, upon
the soul; and so leaving, perhaps, a more sensible impres-
sion upon the spirits. To sit in the chair then, was not
merely, as Carew represents the act, "somewhat dan-
gerous" in the attempt," and therefore holy in the adventure,"
but also holy in itself, as on the church tower; more holy
in its purposes, as the seat of the pilgrims; and most holy
as the seat of a few in accomplishment of all their vows;
as the chair of a few, in invitation of all the country.-
WHITAKER'S Supplement to the First and Second Book of
POLWHELE'S History of Cornwall, pp. 6, 7.

MERRILY, merrily rung the bells,

The bells of St. Michael's tower,

When Richard Penlake and Rebecca his wife Arrived at St. Michael's door.

"Now hear my prayer, St. Michael! and spare My husband's life," quoth she; "And to thine altar we will go

Six marks to give to thee."

Richard Penlake repeated the vow,
For woundily sick was he;
"Save me, St. Michael, and we will go
Six marks to give to thee."

When Richard grew well, Rebecca his wife
Teased him by night and by day:
"O mine own dear! for you I fear,
If we the vow delay.'

Merrily, merrily rung the bells,

The bells of St. Michael's tower, When Richard Penlake and Rebecca his wife Arrived at St. Michael's door.

Six marks they on the altar laid,

And Richard knelt in prayer: She left him to pray, and stole away To sit in St. Michael's chair.

Up the tower Rebecca ran,

Round, and round, and round; 'Twas a giddy sight to stand a-top, And look upon the ground.

"A curse on the ringers for rocking
The tower!" Rebecca cried,
As over the church battlements
She strode with a long stride.

"A blessing on St. Michael's chair!"
She said, as she sat down :
Merrily, merrily rung the bells,
And out Rebecca was thrown.

Tidings to Richard Penlake were brought That his good wife was dead: "Now shall we toll for her poor soul

The great church bell?" they said.

While Henry V. lay at the siege of Dreux, an honest Hermit, unknown to him, came and told him the great evils he brought on Christendom by his unjust ambition, who usurped the kingdom of France, against all manner of right, and contrary to the will of God; wherefore, in his holy name, he threatened him with a severe and sudden punishment if he desisted not from his enterprise. Henry took this exhortation either as an idle whimsey, or a suggestion of the dauphin's, and was but the more confirmed in his design. But the blow soon followed the threatening; for, within some few months after, he was smitten with a strange and incurable disease. - MEZeray.

He pass'd unquestion'd through the camp;
Their heads the soldiers bent
In silent reverence, or begg'd
A blessing as he went;
And so the Hermit pass'd along,
And reached the royal tent.

King Henry sat in his tent alone;

The map before him lay;

Fresh conquests he was planning there To grace the future day.

King Henry lifted up his eyes

The intruder to behold; With reverence he the hermit saw; For the holy man was old; His look was gentle as a Saint's, And yet his eye was bold.

"Repent thee, Henry, of the wrongs

Which thou hast done this land! O King, repent in time, for know The judgment is at hand.

"I have pass'd forty years of peace Beside the river Blaise;

But what a weight of woe hast thou Laid on my latter days!

"I used to see along the stream The white sail gliding down, That wafted food, in better times, To yonder peaceful town.

"Henry! I never now behold

The white sail gliding down; Famine, Disease, and Death, and Thou Destroy that wretched town.

"I used to hear the traveller's voice

As here he pass'd along,

Or maiden, as she loiter'd home

Singing her even-song.

"No traveller's voice may now be heard;

In fear he hastens by;

But I have heard the village maid
In vain for succor cry.

"I used to see the youths row down,
And watch the dripping oar,
As pleasantly their viol's tones
Came soften'd to the shore.

"King Henry, many a blacken'd corpse I now see floating down!

Thou man of blood! repent in time,
And leave this leaguer'd town."

"I shall go on," King Henry cried,

"And conquer this good land; Seest thou not, Hermit, that the Lord Hath given it to my hand?"

The Hermit heard King Henry speak,
And angrily look'd down ;-
His face was gentle, and for that
More solemn was his frown.

"What if no miracle from Heaven
The murderer's arm control;
Think you for that the weight of blood
Lies lighter on his soul?

"Thou conqueror King, repent in time, Or dread the coming woe!

For, Henry, thou hast heard the threat, And soon shalt feel the blow!"

King Henry forced a careless smile,
As the hermit went his way;
But Henry soon remember'd him
Upon his dying day.

Westbury, 1798.

OLD CHRISTOVAL'S ADVICE,

AND THE REASON WHY HE GAVE IT.

Recibió un Cavallero, paraque cultivasse sus tierras, a un Quintero, y para pagarle algo adelantado le pidió fiador; y no teniendo quien le fiasse, le prometió delante del sepulcro de San Isidro que cumpliria su palabra, y si no, que el Santo le castigasse. Con lo qual, el Cavallero le pagó toda su soldada, y le fió. Mar desagradecido aquel hombre, no haciendo caso de su promessa, se huyó, sin acabar de sirvir el tiempo concertado. Passó de noche sin reparar en ello, por la Iglesia de San Andrès, donde estaba el cuerpo del siervo de Dios. Fuè cosa maravillosa, que andando corriendo toda la noche, no se apartó de la Iglesia, sino que toda se le fuè en dar mil bueltas al rededor de ella, hasta que por la mañana, yendo el amo à quezarse de San