THE LAY OF THE THRUSH. The following Lay is a translation of that written by Rhys Coch, of Tir Tarll, a Welsh bard, who flourished in the 12th century : "Bum yn ael maes." BENEATH the greenwood tree I stood, The sweet birds poured a joyous flood Of gleeful song! The thrush, with speckled breast began, In deepest shades he lay concealed, While song alone his soul revealed, Like poet true. A thousand blossoms heard his strain, When earth in early sunlight glows, Hours passed away, and still his voice His sacrifice, his altars were The thrilling song, the hazel fair. He praises God In gratitude and love to Him Who gave him life, and power to hymn His pious ode. And all he called upon the earthAll to whom God has given birth, To hear his love. To all who dwell in glade or glen, To beast, to woodland bird, to menTo shady grove! The love that filled his throbbing breast, Like fire awoke my heart oppressed, From woe awoke. It bade my languid mind rejoice, For in his bliss I found a voice, "Oh, poet true, from shady grove Fly hence away to her I love, Queen sweet and fair. Fly hence away, o'er hill and plain, And whisper in thine own glad strain The love I bear." The bird flew far from branch and tree, Oh, Santa Marie, prosper me And guide his flight. Then, hither let him speed again, SELEUCUS. AMONGST such as out of cunning hear all and talk little, be sure to talk less; or, if you must talk, say little. WORDS, like bellows, often blow a spark into a flame; whereas, the fire that wants vent will suppress itself. THOSE who have resources within themselves, who can dare to live alone, want friends the least, but at the same time, best know how to prize them the most. THE envious will die, but envy never. NEVER suffer yourself to be worried about trifles; think how insignificant such matters will appear a twelvemonth hence. THE brightest blaze of intelligence is of less value than the smallest spark of charity. HABIT-a second nature, which often supersedes the first. FAITH, Hope, and Charity, or Love, are three such inseparables that they have been likened to a plant, Faith being the root, Hope the upward rising stem, and Love the bright and glowing fruit. As a person's yes and no, so is all his character. A downright yes and no marks the firm; a quick the rapid; and a slow one, a cautious or timid character. THE ungrateful are not so certainly bad as the grateful are certainly good characters. TIME is a travelling thief, ever stealing, yet no man can catch him. EXPERIENCE-knowledge sold at a high price by Misfortune to Indiscretion, and taken care of by Memory. MUSIC is a prophecy of what life is to be; the rainbow of promise, translated out of seeing into hearing. HE who believes only what he understands, has the shortest known creed. VICTORY belongs to him who is constant in faith and courage. If thou lookest too often in thy glass, thou wilt not so much see thy face as thy folly. CONVERSATION is the music of the mind, an intelligent orchestra where all the instruments should bear a part, but where none should play together. THE most difficult thing in the world is to talk good nonsense. No person can do it but one of first-rate ability. GOOD-WILL, like a good name, is got by many actions and lost by one. AMBITION is just as valid a proof of a strong and sound mind, as gourmandizing is of a strong and sound body. THE true motives of our actions, like the real pipes of an organ, are usually concealed. But the gilded and the hollow pretext is pompously placed in the front of show. BIGOTRY murders religion, to frighten fools with her ghost. He that abuses his own profession will not patiently bear with any one else that does so. For when we abuse our own profession, we tacitly except ourselves; but when another abuses it, we are far from being certain that this is the case. THERE is a freemasonry in sorrow which makes all brothers, and which the common children of that sad parent are seldom slow to recognise. To think well of every other man's condition, and to dislike our own, is one of the misfortunes of human nature. PRAISE, when judiciously bestowed, tends to encourage everyone in the pursuit of excellence. Printed by JoHN OWEN CLARKE, at 121, Fleet Street, London, and published at the Office of the Journal, 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street. RIDICULOUS PEOPLE. So many novels, tales, and essays, have been written of late, to tell us what we ought not to do and say, and to point out by the example of the pieces of perfection which constitute the heroes and heroines how all people should behave in all situations, that one fears individuality will soon be entirely lost; and that everybody, copying after one model, and becoming more or less like this one model and each other, society will end by being entirely stupid, and devoid of all interest and amusement. Education has done away with the bad grammar and vulgar turn of phrase and thought that rendered Miss Burney's "Braughtons," and "Briggses," and Tom Sheridan's "Grimshaws," so acceptable as accurate portraits and representations of people in the sphere of life described; but in the present day, even hackney coachmen rarely offend ith their V's and W's, and the adding H's where they should not be placed is confined to servants chiefly of a second-rate description. Still, however, "Ridiculous People" are occasionally to be met with, and the very education which has destroyed one sort of vulgarity and absurdity has given birth to another quite as amusing, where at least the instruction has gone no further than "the little learning which is a dangerous thing." A love of directing, and fault finding, also requires both knowledge of the world, and good breeding to be kept properly under; and when possessed by those who are ignorant of the rules of society, and have had small opportunity of acquiring the latter advantage, it gives rise to scenes which would be very ludicrous, were they not at the same time highly disagreeable. People who move in what is called "the first circles," are, generally speaking, insufferably tiresome; they all dress à peu près alike as to the fashion at least of their attire, talk alike, think alike, or rather give themselves very little trouble to exercise the understanding which God has given them; but, indeed, in all classes one may see somewhat of the same thing. We talk about freedom of action, and liberty of opinion, in finely rounded sentences, and yet we are apt to sail with the stream, to repeat what is said by others, without taking the trouble to discover whether the saying is just or not. We do as others do, from mere indolence, because departing from their customs would be more troublesome than following them. One hears very much the same sort of sentiments from the same circle of people, as we may observe pretty much the same sort of manners and ideas, (or the expression of them) even in families, and we almost all are more or less led. WHAT is said is not so much the consideration, as who said it; and a good remark made by a nobody will pass unheeded when the same words, or veto spoken by [PRICE 14d. one whose fashion, rank, or literary reputation stands high, is listened to, repeated, and applauded. A favourite opinion expressed of a common-place book, remedy, or personal appearance, leads the many to read, try, or admire, what is in point of fact in itself neither worth reading, trying, nor admiring; and there is no stronger proof of the weakness of human nature than the fact, that superior minds can be frequently mortified by the neglect, and pleased with the attentions of inferior ones, mere foolish capricious arbiters of fashion. In the higher orders of the middle ranks, there are more occasional exceptions to the above general resemblance, than in the circle above them, only because their numbers are greater, so that we must travel a little lower down in society before we can enjoy the pleasure of contemplating ridiculous people, who I am happy to inform the laughter-loving public, are still sometimes to be met with in country towns-a society no doubt highly respected and respectable in its way, and quite as exclusive, or more so, than amongst those whose position is positively defined. I was led to make these observations by a visit I lately paid to a maiden aunt, Mrs. Lydia de Vipont, who lives in a town I shall call Loftenbridge, and who takes charge of the children of her young brother in India. She visits everybody that is anybody, and these very hospitable every bodies no sooner heard of the arrival of a grown up niece, than they hastened to leave their cards upon me. As I had gone to view some celebrated ruins in the vicinity, I had not the pleasure of meeting these amusing neighbours of my worthy aunt, until with her and my three little cousins, I went to acknowledge the politeness. The first house we stopped at was "Honeysuckle Villa," but I must mention that the de Viponts had just returned from a short séjour on the French coast, at Penne de Piedfort. "Honeysuckle Villa" was the abode of Mrs. Smith Brown Jones as she designated herself, after Mr. Brown's uncle Mr. Jones, left his nephew, (whose christian name was Smith,) a small freehold and £2,000; for although Smith, Brown, and Jones individually were very common names, collectively, it sounded very "distingay" she said, for she had never heard of a Mr. Smith Brown Jones before. The door was opened by an urchin in a claret suit, covered all over with buttons, and enlivened with yellow seams; his name was Larry, but Mrs. S. B. J., although her benevolence induced her to take care of the poor fatherless boy, would only do so upon his consenting to call himself "Lorenzo," and she herself always talked of him as "a foreigner," a term which I blush to own is sometimes applied by vulgar fine ladies to our warmhearted brethren of the sister kingdom. Lorenzo, whose gratitude and ignorance together, made him look up to his good-natured mistress as a superior being, seconded her in all her harmless absurdities, very much to the annoyance of her matter-of-fact, plain-spoken husband, who persisted in calling her Mrs. Brown, and Lorenzo, Lorry, the substitution of the O for the A, being all the concession he would make. Lorenzo accordingly ushered us into the presence of Mrs. S Brown Jones, who seated in a room littered all over with cheap furniture, and gold paper ornaments, received us with rapture, professed herself "ineffably charmed to make my acquaintance;" kissed the children, and welcomed them from "Law belle Fraunce," a country she said she "adored! so gay and lively; and how my sweet young ladies," pursued she, "will you endure dull Loftenbridge, and the dowdy belles and ill-drest beaux, after the elegantays and gaug johns, (élégantes et gans jaunes,) you have been accustomed to abroad?" "We are all very fond of home," observed Mrs. Lydia, coming to the assistance of her young nieces, "and the fashionable people you allude to rarely venture to such a comparatively quiet little place as Penne de Piedfort." "Ah! you confined your séjour to that locality, I never let Mr. Smith Brown Jones sleep in peace, till he had taken me all over France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. We were just three months absent, and we saw everything." "You must," said I, "have been very active, and made good use of your time." "Yes, indeed, we did," continued the loquacious lady, "up early and late, but we saw all objects of interest; magnificent mountains-wonderful waterfalls-the ruins at Rome - the poor dear Pope-the barbarous banditti at Naples, masticating macaroni-the-oh! I can't tell you what all." "You have seen a great deal in a short time," observed Mrs. de Vipont. was in perfect keeping with her house and furniture. She Yes, when one can see it, but my housemaid, Betty Black, seldom thinks of rubbing the windows, and they are in general more like horn than glass.” She soon after rung the bell, and the delinquent Betty appeared with the tray; before we could interpose a word to decline taking anything, she angrily exclaimed"Where's James?" "Just stepped out, ma'am, for a minute, to get-" How dare he do so without acquainting me? Now, take care, or you'll have all broken! How careless you are always, Betty! Don't prop the door open with your elbow in that vulgar manner. You've forgotten a spoon," &c. We declined refreshment as soon as we were attended to; and my aunt tried to talk about her late jaunt, as being she thought far away from the Loftenbridge servants, Mrs. Thompson's favourite theme; but every road led to the same end, and her conversation became so tiresome and unladylike, that after as short a visit as politeness warranted, we rose to take leave, and the last thing we heard, as we descended the steps, was a reproof in very energetic language addressed to the unfortunate domestic, who had most inopportunely just at that moment returned. We hastened to the adjoining street to return Lady Sedley's visit, who I took for granted would be another ridiculous person. But there was nothing particular about her house, her servants, or herself; she was well-mannered, well-drest, and received us very kindly; and I almost despaired of finding any character about her, till, as the conversation continued, she insinuated several very agreeable things about each of her visitors sufficient to be understood, but not noticed. She showed us albums, pictures, pretty things in plenty, presented each of the children with a bouquet, talked of every one in the town and neighbourhood, and said something of each which made them appear either in an unamiable or absurd point of view, implying all the time that the present company were the only agreeable-perfectly agreeable-family of her acquaintance at Loftenbridge. "Oh yes! I am sure you could. Lorenzo! Refresh- She made a charming impression upon the three unso ments! Valentia wine! permit me, Mrs. de Vipont, phisticated little girls, who, as soon as dinner was taken Miss de V., Miss Mariana, Miss Eliza, Miss Molly-away-for their aunt never permitted them to make perPolly, (Mary looked furious,) to offer you a glass." sonal observations in the hearing of a servant-began to talk of the visits we had paid that morning. "What a very vulgar woman Mrs. Thompson is," observed Mariana, "talking to her servants, and of her servants. "Oh! yes, and bought such beautiful 'recherchays.' You admire paintings? that is a copy after Claude Lorraine. No. I mistake; Michael Angelo. Sweet pretty painter, Michael Angelo! I adore the fine arts! So useful! My dear little Mairy-fairy, I think you could eat some cakey-pakey. So pretty you look sitting on the stooley-pooley." Mary who fortunately was too indignaut to laugh, which she assuredly would have done, had she heard any. one else addressed in so childish a manner, answered demurely, "No thank you." "No wine for any of us, thank you, but we shall be happy to eat a slice of that very nice cake you so kindly offer." "Tis a Calabrian cake, I procured the recipe at Naples. I was driving one day, and observed it. I called to the coachman Fermattay Cocky Airy!' (Fermate cocchiere.) Which you, Miss Mariana, who are studying Italian know means, stop coachman! He obeyed. I alighted-bought the cake, and its recipe; you see the result." "It is an excellent cake," simpered Mariana, "very good." "Very nice," chimed in her sisters. "Then you shall take it with you, and my Matilda shall teach Honoria, (the name of Mrs. Lydia's cook was Honor, called Honney,) how to make it." "I shall be obliged to you for the recipe," said my aunt; "but cannot think of depriving you of the cake." It arrived, however, at home before us, for we had two other visits to pay, and we proceeded to the substantial red brick house of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Thompson's drawing room was a complete contrast to that we had just left at Honeysuckle Villa; the furniture was good, plain, and useful; and the lady's appearance "I really felt quite sorry for the unhappy Betty," pursued Eliza, "and should have held her blameless had she answered impertinently." "Betty, my love," answered Mrs. Lydia, "knows what you do not-that with all that teasing and fault-finding manner Mrs. Thompson is one of the most kind, indulgent mistresses in Loftenbridge. She is not devoid of good sense, neither. This bustling, lecturing manner she has contracted in her endeavours to make an ailing and somewhat exacting husband comfortable; and, having lived quite out of the world she has become a most unpleasant companion to those who take no interest in the sort of conversation in which she indulges-than which, certainly, nothing can be more ill-bred. Servants, my little ones, should be treated with kindness; but no familiarity, recollect. And a little gentle firmness would succeed much better in inducing them to obey than that continual talking to, which they end by not caring for." "It was very kind in Mrs. Brown to send us the cake," said Eliza; "but she speaks such bad French." "And talks so foolishly," pursued little Mary. "And makes such absurd historical mistakes," echoed Mariana, "that I could scarcely preserve my gravity." "It is, indeed," calmly observed Mrs. Lydia, a pain ful exercise of propriety sometimes to repress a smile. Poor Mrs. Brown is one of the best-hearted, most generous, delicate-minded persons I am acquainted with, but a confined education and an entire want of judgment has led her to affect a degree of cultivation she does not possess; and she is perpetually making absurd blunders by talking of things she does not understand, and affecting elegance and high life from the bad novels she spends her time in reading. I hope you observed, my loves, how silly it sounds to make use of large-sounding words when speaking of trifles. Mrs. Brown is always enchanted, or charmed, or horrified; she abominates, she abhors, she idolizes, she adores things of no consequence, and cannot speak without that extravagance of expression which is so ridiculous, and is also in fact very vulgar; for high-bred people always speak as they do everything else, simply. Mrs. Brown never begins-she commences; nor ends—she terminates; to take a walk never enters into her head-she strolls, rambles, or perambulates; plucks flowers, instead of gathers them; apprizes people, in lieu of tells them of a thing; she beholds, instead of sees an object; and, in short, says and does everything absurdly; but I did not hear her say anything about history." "Oh, yes, she did, when we were walking in the garden; she told me she was reading-I forget what-a historical novel: that she adored history-novels, so sensible; that she had been lately charmed by one, she forgot what, where that horror, Charles II., cut off so many of his wives' heads, so cruel! And she talked of Henry VII.'s queen sucking poison from his wound, so devoted. I have no patience with her." for ever crying. I say what I think; I do what I think proper, and care nothing for what the world may think or say."" "But Lady Sedley, my dear aunt, thinks you very charming, I am sure, though she did not make the observation in so many words; she is always,' she said, 'delighted when chance leads her to meet you.'" "We have all our weak side, my child, and those who seek it will find it. I have no doubt but that we shall furnish the next lively sketches of character presented by Lady Sedley for the amusement of her guests." "You! Oh, my dear aunt, that can never be, and you forget all she said!" "No, my love, I do not; such a woman never talks of the bright side of her personal pictures. She said nothing of Mrs. Thompson's patient and constant attendance upon her cross invalid husband, nor of Mrs. Brown's generous conduct to her sister-in-law, nor of her charity to the poor, nor of the freedom from scandal in the conversation of both these ladies; depend upon it, we shall not escape. Do not, my dear children, let these observations vex you→ "All is not geld that glitters." Beware of being too confiding to those you do not know; and do not take prejudice against worthy persons because they wear old-fashioned garments, are deficient in polish and talent, or from some harmless peculiarities appear conceited and ab-urd." These observations of Mrs. de Vipont led me to look upon "Ridiculous People" in a new light. I had hitherto only thought of them as a means of amusement, but upon reflection I saw that even the most absurd beings-and none can be more so than Mrs. Smith Brown Jones-may have solid good qualities, whilst others who fulfil every rule of good breeding, and are pleasing in their inanners, may be not only not worthy of respectfor that I knew before-but much infericr in every essential qualification to many very ridiculous people. TIM BOBBIN. But my dear Mariana you must learn to have more patience, or you will lead a very unhappy life when you go into society; and Mrs. Brown's virtues should lead you to view her faults with indulgence and compassion. Strange as it may appear to you, I would far rather live with her than with Lady Sedley, who is a well-educated, well-mannered woman, and one of whom I never heard TIM BOBBIN was the local humourist of South Lancaany ill; but her habit of talking of persons rather than shire; nor do we know that his fame has travelled far things, her looking out for the ridiculous part of every- beyond the bounds of his own district. He was one of one's character, her information upon all the flaws that the numerous provincial celebrities that never find their can be found in her neighbours' behaviour, family con-way "to town," and, if they do get there, and become nections, &c., and the sort of insipid small-talk which "civilized," are generally spoilt for ever after. ensues when these more favourite topics fail, make her to me a very undesirable companion, although for an occasional visit I think her agreeable enough, as most women of the world are." "But, my dear aunt, all the people she pointed at, are what she describes, as far as I can see. Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Thompson, for instance, the only parties I am acquainted with, I am sure she described very accurately," I observed. "And, besides," broke in Mariana, anxious to defend the kind and complimentary Lady Sedley, "even you I have heard very severe on Miss M'Tavish for the bold, vulgar, low-bred way she talks of gentlemen, calling them Butler and Baker, Taylor and Holt, without prefixing Mr., Captain, or Colonel, as the case may be." The South Lancashire people are a rough and ready race, especially the pure breed which still inhabits the districts of Rossendale, Pendle, and the rugged country which lies along the western side of Blackstone edge, They retain a good deal of that manly vigour and independence which their forefathers carried with them into the fastnesses of the district, at a remote period in our country's history, and which enabled them to make good their footing, and establish their independence in the old Saxon forms which they loved. The men still retain their manly bearing; they may be rough, obstinate, and self-willed, but they are a noble race of inen nevertheless; somewhat like the district they inhabit, rugged, massive, and bold, yet teeming with all the elements that make a land and people rich. When the "No doubt I have to you, my children, to point out Norman William first led his devastating army through what I wish you to guard against. Miss M'Tavish, how this district, he found it a wild waste, abounding in ever, is Irish; and both Scotch and irish people, not at destructive marshes, perilous rivers, and impenetrable all vulgar in other respects, offend many of them in this woods, the haunt of wolves and wild boars. See it now! particular. I have also held up, for your avoidance, the and behold what the industry of its native population has manners of Miss Smoothy, who is ever thinking and made it! The former wastes have been cultivated to the talking and acting by the world's opinion-This is not very tops of their hills and the margins of their streams; done, that is not worn, the other is not thought correct. the soil has literally been ploughed by the spindle, and I come in because such vulgar people are upon the sowed by the shuttle and the loom. The rivers are all parade-Mrs. Tag, Mrs. Rag, and Miss Bobtail.' Al- pressed into the service of man-in driving machinery, or though even this is much better perhaps than the oppo-in furnishing inexhaustible depositories of steam. Noble site extreme so disgusting in Lady Jane Boldero, who is bridges span them in all directions, bearing roads and railroads through that country of "destructive morasses and impenetrable woods." "There are some old people still living in Milnrow who were taught to read and write and "do sums" in The "forest" population, as they are still called, near Tim Bobbin's school; yet the majority of the inhabithe Blackstone range, are as unlike as possible to the tants seem unacquainted with his real residence. I had mixed factory population of Manchester, Bolton, and myself been misled respecting it; but having obtained Stockport. You see they are indigenous to the soil, by correct information, and a reference from a friend in Rochtheir rough looks, their hearty manners, their rugged, dale to an old relative of his who lived in the veritable old-world dialect, their humour, and their pride. They cottage of renowned Tim, I set about inquiring for him. love the soil and cling to it; their homely cottages are As I entered the village I met a sturdy, good-looking perched on the hill-sides, where the weaver varies his woman, with a chocolate-coloured silk kerchief tied over labour at the loom by cultivating a patch of garden or her snowy cap in that graceful way which is known all field, enclosed within its stone wall. There are factories, over the country-side as the "Mildro Bonnet." She and dye-works, and bleach-grounds down by the running stopt me, and said, "Meastur, hea fur han yo com'd?" streams and when the "mill lowses," you are asto-"From Rochdale." "Han yo sin aut ov o felley wi nished by the clatter of clogs on the pavement, shoes breechus on, un rayther forrud, oppo th' gate, between being generally discarded by the working-classes here in un th' Fir Grove?" I told her I had not, and then favour of these more primitive, but also more noisy, arti- inquired of her for Scholefield that lived in Tim Bobbin's cles. The clogs make rough work in a Lancashire up-cottage. She reckoned up all the people she knew of and-down fight, "where everything is fair," including that name, but none of them answering the description I biting, punching, and kicking. Passing through one of went on my way. I next asked a tall woollen-weaver, these groups, you will hear them bandying rough words who was striding up the street with the shuttle to the in the broadest dialect, as unintelligible to any one not a mending. Scratching his head, and looking thoughtfully native as Low Dutch or Japanese. Perhaps you have a round among the houses, he said, 'Scwofil? Aw know rough word thrown at yourself, and a loud horse-laugh no Scwofils, but thooze ut th' Tim Bobbin aleheawse, accompanying it; but, fortunately, the shaft is pointless yodd'n betthur ash theer.' Stepping over to the Tim to you, for you understand not a word of what has been Bobbin Inn, Mrs. Scholefield described to me the situaIsaid or shouted. Notwithstanding this native rude- tion of Tim's cottage, near the bridge. Retracing my ness, there is a hearty warmth of hospitality, an honesty steps towards the place, I went into the house of an old and truthfulness, together with a strong common sense acquaintance of my childhood. On the strength of a dim about these native Lancashire peasantry, which are worth remembrance of my features, he invited me to the meal all the deceitful polish in the world. just made ready for the family. 'Pu o cheer up,' said But to return to our native Tim Bobbin. The person he, an get a bite o sich uz we han. Yo'n tean uz ov o who bore this soubriquet was one John Collier, a native rough shap, un win naut uncuth to set yo, but yor uz of Marston, near Manchester, where he was born in welcome uz th' flowers i' May, so fo to, un need no moor 1708. He was put apprentice to a loom-weaver; but, as hathein.' After we had finished, he said, 'Neaw, win yo he afterwards says, "hating slavery in all its shapes, I hav o reech o bacco ? Mally, reytch uz some chlyen by Divine Providence (railing my old scull-hat to the pipes, un th' pot eot o' th' nook. Let's see, oo's lad mitres), on November 19th, 1729, commenced school- are yo, sen yo; for aw welly forgetten, bi th' mass.' master at Milnrow," which is a village up the Roch, a After a fruitless attempt at enlightening him thereon in few ales from Rochdale. Here he became a man of ordinary town-English, I took to the dialect, and in the consequence he studied drawing and music, painting country fashion described my genealogy, on the mother's and caricatures; and achieved no small celebrity in the side. I was instantly comprehended; for he stopt me district because of his manifold accomplishments. But short with, 'Whau then, "Billy wi th' Pipes, ut th' Bigwhat he is chiefly known by now, is the humorous writ- gins" ur yor gronfeythur.' 'Sure he wur,' said I 'Au ings in the Lancashire dialect which he has left behind knowed him uz weel uz i knew my own feythur. He're him, and may still be occasionally had in a collected form o fyrful chap for music un sich us that. Au bin to mony at old book-stalls, under the title of "The Works of Timo Orrytory wi him. He us't to letthur grave-stones. Au Bobbin, Esq., in Prose and Verse." His principal work remember oud Wesley preytchin at their house i' Wardle is entitled, "A view of the Lancashire Dialect by way of foud. Un han yo some releyshuns i' th' Mildro?' I Dialogue, between Tummus o' Willim's, o' Margit o' told him my errand, and inquired for Scholefield that Roaph's, an' o' Meary o' Dick's, o' Tummy o' Peggy's, lived in Tim's cottage. As he pondered and turned the showing in that speech the comical adventures of a Lan- name over, one of his lads shouted out, 'By th' mon, cashire Clown." The said dialogue also contains a glos- feythur, he mbyens "Oud Mahogany." Aw think he's sary of the Lancashire dialect, from which etymological code Scwofil, and he lives i' th' garden ut th' bothom o' students might gather some very interesting information th' bonk, by th' waytur side.' It was generally agreed respecting the origin of this very strongly marked people. that this was the place, so I parted with my friends, and Tim Bobbin was full of humour, uniting in himself the went towards it. The old man came out without his hat, qualities of Hogarth and of Swift. His illustration of a short distance, to set me right. After bidding me "Tummas and Meary," and his "Human Passions," are 'good neet,' he shouted as he walked away, 'Neaw ta' full of the quaint and ludicrous. His pictures were much care yo coan th' next time yo comʼn thiz gate, un winhave sought after in his own day, and some of them went as far o gradely do.' as the West Indies and North America. As he became famous he became courted; and, tempted by better prospects, he migrated over the hills into Yorkshire; but, finding his new employment irksome, he was soon back again to his old arm-chair and his boon companions in Milnrow. He lived to an old age, and saw five editions of his "View of the Lancashire Dialect" published in his life-time. An interesting account of a pilgrimage to Tim Bobbin's village has just been published by Mr. Edwin Waugh, of Manchester, from the following extracts of which some idea of the Lancashire dialect may be gleaned, as well as some interesting incidents connected with the history of the departed worthy himself: "About twenty yards from the west end of the little stone bridge that spans the river, a lane leads between the ends of the dwelling-houses, down to the water-side. There, still sweetly secluded, stands the quaint, substantial cottage of John Collier, in its old garden by the edge of the Beal, which, flowing through the fields, in front towards the cottage, is there dammed up into a reservoir for the use of the mill close by, and then tumbling over into a noisy little fall under the garden edge, goes shouting and frolicking along the north-east side of it, and under the bridge, till the cadence dies beyond, where the bed of the stream gets smoother. Lifting the latch, I walked through the garden to the cottage, where I found 'Owd |