of an antiquarian had been always so closely identified with the characteristics of green spectacles, a long-waisted straight-cut coat of the year 1, and the brilliant appendage of those twin stars, the shoe-buckles, that my beau ideal of the personage was utterly annihilated by the intelligence that Mr. H. U. Tighe had come forward as the modern representative of Antony Wood and Jonathan Oldbuck. We well remember the quizzing-glass, spruce brummel, and the ancles cased in their silken vesture; and little should we have been inclined to credit a prediction of the future Antiquarian. But we had forgot the literary taste which our author had imbibed from his Mother's milk :

"O matre clara fili clarior."

Let us now picture to ourselves the enthusiast at the goal of his pilgrimage. Was that peculiar euphony of expression, so fashionably abrupt, or so charmingly sang-froid, the tone by which we could have imagined the cross-examinations to have been carried on with the old Sexton, who has vegetated this half century at the village of Cumnor, and acts as the precious repository of the traditions of his forefathers? Did Delcroix's essences accompany our adventurous Knight Errant into the vault which gapes with such important hiatus in the midst of the ruins ;-a vault which imagination might picture to be the same abyss into which the lovely Countess is represented to have been plunged by the infernal policy of her Husband's Agents; but which, in matter of fact, was nothing more than the common sewer of the mansion? Can we fancy the ornament of High-street, the President of the Common-Room at Corpus, in such a situation? Quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore. The critic of Layton's ices and patées has become the umpire of the claims of the Hall, Chapel, and Picture Galleries to their respective sites in the residence of Antony Foster. But let us not be misunderstood. We hail with pleasure the signal metamorphosis, and our future expectations have an extensive prospect. The world may now hope from this promising son of Alma Mater the elucidation of questions which have puzzled the wits of successive generations. The Bodleian manuscripts and old records, which had no claim to the notice of Messrs. Elmsley and Gaisford, have now a chance of catching a glimpse of day-light. Oh! why was Eton so soon deprived of such a student? By this time we might have been satisfied that the Montem footpads have a more honourable charter to justify their depredation than that of custom. Burnham Abbey might have risen again to our imagination, in all its pristine solemnity of scenery, beneath the glowing pencil of such a genius. The old monks would have been placed before us, gloating over their capons, and swilling their sack, where their modern representatives

T

may be now seen grunting over their meal and hogs-wash. But my task draws to an end. I merely wished to offer you my best thanks for the instruction and amusement I have received from your pages. The study you have chosen is honourably distinguished among the branches of literature. It confers equal obligations upon History and Poetry. In the case of the latter, it throws the cold water of truth into the face of intoxicated imagination; while it acts as a jackall to the former. Gifted with the visual properties of the feline tribe, it hunts its prey in the dark, and the historian turns to profit the discoveries which are made. But let him be on his guard. He may be following a Will-o'-the-wisp, where the offer of guidance is deceitful, the pursuit fruitless and vexatious. This, however, my dear Tighe, is of course entre nous, and I hasten to conclude this lengthened epistle with professions of esteem.

Yours very truly,

Eton College, April 5, 1821.

FREDERICK GOLIGHTLY.

A COUNTRY SABBATH.

"There are few places more favourable to the study of character_than an English Country Church." SKETCH-BOOK.

AMONG the most interesting and pleasing scenes of rural life there is none which holds a more conspicuous place than a Country Sabbath. The universal quiet that pervades the whole face of nature, as if the fields were slumbering after the labours of the week; the mellow sound of the bells; and the joyous troops of villagers, all arrayed in their best garments, and hurrying along the pathway; -have a charm of which no other country can so truly boast. I was a frequent visitor at the village church during my stay with the Rector, who, fortunately for the village of

was a Pastor worthy to negociate between God and Man. I have said fortunately, because you are frequently disgusted in country churches by seeing a perfumed fashionable in the pulpit; one of those personages who are accustomed to take orders that they may enjoy their ease, pleasures, and sports, more freely. I should as soon think of being led to pray, by a bulky corpulent monk, whose jolly fat countenance, rising over the pulpit, would give the lie to every word he might utter as by one of those lady's maids of religion, who dance up the church with a negligent air, display a white handkerchief or gold ring, and apparently think they are

doing an honour to their Saviour by murdering his gospel," the things that mount the Rostrum with a skip, and then skip down again."

On a Sunday morning, during my ramble through the churchyard, I espied an equipage rapidly approaching, which I immediately recognized, as it belonged to a man of large property in the neighbourhood, a thorough Fox-Hunter, and at the same time a regular attendant at church, unless he happened to indulge too freely on the Saturday night. His whole family consisted of a niece, who had been left an orphan by her parents, and an only son, whom I had formerly known at Eton, a merry, boisterous, warm-hearted youth, so that I was rather anxious to catch a glimpse of " the Squire," as he was called by way of pre-eminence. In another minute the old gentleman's phaeton dashed round the corner of the church, containing himself; his niece, a pretty looking girl of about nineteen; and a favourite dog, who generally escorted his master to the church door, and then retired home by a short cut over the fields. As the old man briskly descended from his phaeton, I could not help admiring the uprightness of his figure, and the vigour and strength visible in his whole person. They seemed to give the lie to the grey flowing locks which were telling tales of his years. The spirit of conviviality and good fellowship was indelibly stamped upon a countenance by no means destitute of interest or expression, but already bronzed by exposure to all extremities of weather in pursuit of his favourite sport. In a word, his were honest English features, ignorant of disguise, and forcibly claiming a place for their owner, in every warm and benevolent bosom, beaming with kind hospitality, and good-will to all mankind. His dress was entirely explanatory of the nature and customs of the wearer; consisting of smooth shining leather breeches, top boots, and a straight-cut coat decorated with numerous buttons, and apparently the only part of his dress destined exclusively to Sunday's wear. I confess I was particularly struck with the tout ensemble of the good Squire, and no longer wondered at the rapturous expressions of attachment I had often heard the tenants use, when speaking of their landlord. Indeed there was scarcely a tongue in the village that was not for ever ready to launch out in his praise, and repeat some well-known anecdote of his generosity and kindness.

Shurleigh Hall was always the refuge of the widow, the orphan, the unhappy, and the indigent, though it was never an asylum for the idle beggar, who has the strength to work but not the will. Every Christmas the good Squire adhered to the old custom of keeping open house, and said it was one of the greatest pleasures of his life to see all his tenantry collected in the Hall, where all was joy and festivity. Not one intruding thought of care

or sorrow disturbed the merriment of the roysters of Shurleigh. He never missed at that time saying grace himself, sticking the first knife into the sirloin, and toasting their healths in the first cup; while the whole house resounded with their shouts as he retired to his own regale. But I am wandering from the Church-Yard, where at this moment the Squire was hastening to meet my hospitable host the Rector, whom he saw approaching. The latter caught a glimpse of me a few yards distant, and having beckoned to me, introduced me to the Squire, who, the instant he heard my name, shook my hand with such violence that I trembled lest my shoulder should be dislocated, said he had heard son George talk of me, sorry he was not at home now, but hoped that would not prevent my staying a few days at Shurleigh Hall, and making use of his horses, dogs, &c. as I pleased. Had I not been before-hand ready to close with such an invitation, my denial would have been a faint one when the Squire's words were backed by his niece, whom I found to be far more beautiful than I had even before thought her; and as she hung negligently on the old gentleman's arm, like a slender tendril of ivy from the trunk of some sturdy oak, she pressed me to come with a smile of welcome that totally removed all power of opposition. Our short conversation now was sufficient even to show me my new friend was by no means one of those enthusiastic hunters, whom we occasionally meet with; and who consider a Chace the summum bonum of all earthly pleasures, and stamp every man as a fool that cannot top a five-barred Gate, or switch a Rasper; who spend their whole Winter in endangering their necks all day, and drowning their senses all night; who abhor the summer, and have no other means of dissipating the ennui it produces, than gambling, or preparing their apparatus for next Season. The Squire even appeared to be a Man of the World; asked several questions about Eton, and regretted very feelingly that his youth had been confined in a villanous Private School, where there was neither liberality nor goodfellowship. After some few minutes we adjourned to the Church, where he was resolute in making me occupy a seat in his Pew; which, by the way, was by no means to be despised, for it had been cushioned, and made quite warm and comfortable, by his orders. He then, with a smile, handed me an old Family Prayer-Book and Bible, ornamented with huge clasps of silver, and having illuminated title-letters to the Chapters; which, the old gentleman observed, were formerly the best means of keeping George, and Emmy (his niece), quiet during Church-time, when they were children.

Soon after this I compromised with my conscience for a few minutes, in order to glance my eye over the congregation; and was not a little astonished to see their order and regularity,

which had been effected principally by the joint endeavours of the Squire and Rector. I cannot tell whether every one of them was fervent in prayer; but, at any rate, there was an attention paid to decorum such as we seldom see among the higher ranks of people. Almost the only exception was the son of an opulent Farmer in the neighbourhood; who, having apparently received a tolerable education, employed it in endeavouring to waste what his Father's industry had amassed, and was too much the gentleman to attend to business. He was dressed, as far as lay in the power of a Country Tailor, in the height of Fashion, but unfortunately stamped in Nature's homeliest mould; so that his fine apparel hung about his stiff-girded awkward body like flowers on a May-pole. On entering, he stalked along with great preciseness, admiring his own elegant figure, while a huge bunch of keys thumped and bumped against his side at every step. Apparently the only reason of his coming to Church was to be seen, and see others: hence, during the Service, he amused himself in staring at every female, or counting the brass nails that studded his pew. Soon after the Farmer himself arrived-the very reverse of his son; being a hale, hearty-looking man-displaying by his corpulence that his agriculture enabled him to keep a good table-wiping the sweat off his brow with one hand, and in the other shouldering a huge stick, that would perhaps have better become his Son's back. But the rough Farmer was a better judge of his good or bad crops, than of his offspring's folly; besides, there was a Lady in the case, who considered this fashionable Clod her darling boy.

At this moment there was a great banging of the door, and rustling of silks; and, on looking round, I beheld an elderly Lady, arrayed almost in the dress of the days of Queen Bess, advancing, with most majestic gestures, up the middle of the aisle. The Squire, observing my eyes directed towards her, informed me in a whisper that she was a Maiden Lady, descended from a noble family, and not a little proud of her pedigree, But, notwithstanding certain little pruderies and peculiarities in her domestic arrangements, she was considered by her neighbours as a mighty good sort of woman, for she intended to leave a sum of money for building an hospital in the next town; and was at present the Patroness of a school, from whence she selected occasionally a Lad to attend her, always dismissing him when he arrived at manhood. I confess I was not a little amused as the old Lady fluttered along in a profusion of trains, displaying and erecting her flounces like some dignified Turkey Hen-but I will spare my reader another rural simile. Nevertheless, as those must be the truest which are most natural, I should, for the future, advise all Poets and Pic Nic writers to have a landscape,