Some years ago, the fine old font of the ancient parish church of Harrow-on-the hill was torn from that edifice, by the "gentlemen of the parish," and given out to mend the roads with. The feelings of one parishioner (to the honour of the sex, a female) were outraged by this act of parochial Vandalism; and she was allowed to preserve it from destruction, and place it in a walled nook, at the garden front of her house, where it still remains. By her obliging permission, a drawing of it was made the summer before last, and is engraved above. On the exclusion of Harrow font from the church, the parish officers put up the marble wash-hand - basin-stand-lookingthing, which now occupies its place, inscribed with the names of the churchVOL. I.-6. wardens during whose reign venality or stupidity effected the removal of its precessor. If there be any persons in that parish who either venerate antiquity, or desire to see "right things in right places," it is possible that, by a spirited representation, they may arouse the indifferent, and shame the ignorant to an interchange; and force an expression of public thanks to the lady whose good taste and care enabled it to be effected. The relative situation and misappropriation of each font is a stain on the parish, easily removable, by employing a few men and a few pounds to clap the paltry usurper under the spout of the good lady's house, and restore the noble original from that degrading destination, to its rightful dignity in the church. Garrick Plays. No. III. Unlawful Solicitings. When I first Mention'd the business to her all alone, [From the "Rewards of Virtue," a Comedy, Had done some harm by hearing of me speak ; by John Fountain, printed 1661.] Success in Battle not always attributable to the General. —— Generals oftimes famous grow By valiant friends, or cowardly enemies; Or, what is worse, by some mean piece of chance. How little Princes and great Generals More for their cause than die; and have been lost, A thousand times; in times of war, when we That Heav'n, which holds the purest vows most rich, And none but he's spoke loud of for the act; Whilst from her pretty eyes two fountains ran Proportion in Pity. There must be some proportion still to pity Modesty a bar to preferment. Sure 'twas his modesty. He might have thriven Innocence vindicated at last. Heav'n may awhile correct the virtuous; Dying for a Beloved Person. There is a gust in Death, when 'tis for Love, Which by a thousand and ten thousand words Urania makes a mock assignation with the King, and substitutes the Queen in her place. The King describes the supposed meeting to the Confident, whom he had employed to solicit for his guilty passion. Pyrrhus, I'll tell thee all. When now the night She only whisper'd to me, as she promised, I did the faithful'st Princess in the world; For him who mock'd both Heav'n and her, and was THE CUSHION DANCE. For the Table Book. C. L. The concluding dance at a country wake, or other general meeting, is the " Cushion Dance;" and if it be not called for when the company are tired with dancing, the fiddler, who has an interest in it which will be seen hereafter, frequently plays the tune to remind them of it. A young man of the company leaves the room; the poor young women, uninformed of the plot against them, suspecting nothing; but he no sooner returns, bearing a cushion in one hand and à pewter pot in the other, than they are aware of the mischief intended, and would certainly make their escape, had not the bearer of cushion and pot, aware of the invincible aversion which young women have to be saluted by young men, prevented their flight by locking the door, and putting the key in his pocket. The dance then begins. The young man advances to the fiddler, drops a penny in the pot, and gives it to one of his companions; cushion then dances round the room, followed by pot, and when they again reach the fiddler, the cushion says in a sort of recitative, accompanied by the music, "This dance it will no farther go." The fiddler, in return, sings or says, for it partakes of both, “ I pray, kind sir, why say you so?" The answer is, "Because Joan Sanderson won't come to." But," replies the fiddler, "she must come to, and she shall come to, whether she will or no." The young man, thus armed with the authority of the village musician, recommences his dance round the room, but stops when he comes to the girl he likes best, and drops the cushion at her feet; she puts her penny in the pewter pot, and kneels down with the young man on the cushion, and he salutes her. When they rise, the woman takes up the cushion, and leads the dance, the man following, and holding the skirt of her gown; and having made the circuit of the room, they stop near the fiddler, and the same dialogue is repeated, except, as it is now the woman who speaks, it is John Sanderson who won't come to, and the fiddler's mandate is issued to him, not her. The woman drops the cushion at the feet of her favourite man; the same ceremony and the same dance are repeated, till every man and woman, the pot bearer last, has been taken out, and all have danced round the room in a file. The pence are the perquisite of the fiddler. H. N. P.S. There is a description of this dance in Miss Hutton's " Oakwood Hall." THE CUSHION DANCE. For the Table Book. "Saltabamus." The village-green is clear and dight Under the starlight sky; Joy in the cottage reigns to night, And brightens every eye: The peasants of the valley meet To celebrate the "Cushion Dance." A pillow in the room they hide, The bold the bashful damsels chide, Whose heart's-pulse seem to rock: "Escape?"-" Not yet!-no key is found!""Of course, 'tis lost by chance ;"And flutt'ring whispers breathe around "The Cushion Dance!-The Cushion Dance!" The fiddler in a corner stands, He gives, he rules the game; Whose cheek is red with shame: The pillow's carried round and round, ""Tis aunt's turn,-what in tears?--I thought You dearly loved a joke; Kisses are sweeter stol'n than bought, And vows are sometimes broke. -Is Love not in the Cushion dance?'" "Ho! princum prancum !"-Love is blest; Both Joan and John submit; Friends smiling gather round and rest, And sweethearts closely sit ;Their feet and spirits languid grown, Eyes, bright in silence, glance Like suns on seeds of beauty sown, And nourish'd in the "Cushion Dance." In times to come, when older we Have children round our knees; How will our hearts rejoice to see Their lips and eyes at ease. Talk ye of Swiss in valley-streams, Of joyous pairs in France; None of their hopes-delighting dreams Are equal to the "Cushion Dance." 'Twas here my Maiden's love I drew She knelt, her mouth and press were true, E'er since, though onward we to glory, Islington. ST. SEPULCHRE'S BELL. For the Table Book. On the right-hand side of the altar of St. Sepulchre's church is a board, with a list of charitable donations and gifts, containing the following item : £. s. d. 1605. Mr. Robert Dowe gave 50 0 0 for ringing the greatest bell in this church on the day the condemned prisoners are executed, and for other services, for ever, concerning such condemned prisoners, for which services the sexton is paid £1. 6s. 8d. Looking over an old volume of the Newgate Calendar, I found some elucidation of this inscription. In a narrative of the case of Stephen Gardner, (who was executed at Tyburn, February 3, 1724,) it is related that a person said to Gardner, when he was set at liberty on a former occasion, "Beware how you come here again, or the bellman will certainly say his verses over you." On this saying there is the following remark : "It has been a very ancient practice, on the night preceding the execution of con demned criminals, for the bellman of the All you that in the condemn'd hold do lie, In the following extract from Stowe's London, it will be shown that the above verses ought to be repeated by a clergyman, instead of a bellman :— "Robert Doue, citizen and merchant taylor, of London, gave to the parish church of St. Sepulchres, the somme of £50. That after the several sessions of London, when the prisoners remain in the gaole, as condemned men to death, expecting execution on the morrow following: the clarke (that is the parson) of the church shoold come in the night time, and likewise early in the morning, to the window of the prison where they lye, and there ringing certain toles with a hand-bell appointed for the purpose, he doth afterwards (in most Christian manner) put them in mind of their present condition, and ensuing execution, desiring them to be prepared therefore as they ought to be. When they are in the cart, and brought before the wall of the church, there he standeth ready with the same bell, and, after certain toles, rehearseth an appointed praier, desiring all the people there present to pray for them. The beadle also of Merchant Taylors' Hall hath an honest stipend allowed to see that this is duely done." Probably the discontinuance of this practice commenced when malefactors were first executed at Newgate, in lieu of Tyburn. The donation most certainly refers to the verses. What the "other services " are which the donor intended to be done, and for which the sexton is paid £1. 6s. 8d., and which are to be "for ever," I do not know, but I presume those services (or some other) are now continued, as the board which contains the donation seems to me to have been newly painted. Carthusian-street, Jan. 1827. EDWIN S-. Page 25 of the quarto edition, 1618. Who is it that rides thro' the forest so green, Why starts the proud courser ? what vision is there? But, lo! a dark form o'er the pathway hath lean'd; The prophet of Cadenham, the death-boding seer ! "Desolation, death, ruin, the mighty shall fall— "But say what art thou, strange, unsearchable thing, "In darkness and storm o'er the ocean I sail, O pale grew the monarch, and smote on his breast, Bona Virgo !"-he gazed-but the vision had fled. Why looks he with dread on the blasted oak tree? He thought of the contract, "Thou'rt safe from the Till Cadenham's oak in the winter shall bloom;" |