God's tooth.*

Henry III. By the crown of England.

Edward I.

Edward II.

Edward III.

Richard II.

Henry IV. Henry V.

Henry VI.

Kuward IV.

Edward V.

Richard III.

Henry VII.

Henry VIII.

Edward VI. Mary Elizabeth

None recorded.

By the soul of God; by
St. John the Baptist.

By St. George.
(In his younger days,) by
all the crowned fools in
Christendom.
None recorded
By God.

By the heart of God.
By St. Paul.
By my sword.

All the various combina-
tions of prophanity that
he could possibly invent.
Too pious to swear.
By our holy religion.
By God's death.

Sir Walter Scott attributes other oaths to this prophane, turbulent, and wicked mortal; but I find no authority for it in any Work that has fallen under my observation.

See" Ivanhoe."

Varieties.

Anecdote of Frederick William I. of Prussia. It is well known that Frederick William the First of Prussia, had a particular predilection for tall men; and as this was his ruling passion, he spared no expence to procure them from all parts of Europe, to form his regiments of giants and grenadiers. How deeply he was interested in the pursuit of his favourite object will appear from the following anecdote related by St. Pierre, on the authority of Shoberl.

As he was one day riding according to custom, in the vicinity of Berlin, very plainly dressed, and without attendants, he perceived a young woman of gigantic stature, being nearly seven feet high, at work in the fields. At the sight of this tall woman, the king instantly imagined that a couple of this kind could not fail to produce children of an extraordinary size. He dismounted, and advancing towards the peasantess, entered into conversation with her. To his no small satisfaction, he learned that she was only nineteen years of age, and unmarried; on which he sat down and wrote a note to the colonel of his guards to this effect:-"You are to marry the bearer of this note with the

tallest of my grenadiers. Let the ceremony be performed immediately, and in your presence. You must be responsible to me for the execution of this order. 'Tis absolute and the least delay will render you criminal in my sight." The king gave the letter to the young woman, who was ignorant of its contents, ordering her to deliver it punctually according to the direction, as it related to an affair of very great importance. He then made her a present, and continued his route. The girl supposing it to be a matter of indifference whether it was delivered by herself or by another, charged an old woman with the commission, strictly enjoining her to say she received it from a man of such a dress and appearance. The old woman faithfully executed her message. The Colonel surprised at the contents of the letter, was unable to reconcile them with the age and figure of the bearer; but as the order was preremptory, he did not dare to disobey, and concluding that His Majesty had chosen this method of punishing the soldier for some misdemeanor. In a word, the marriage was celebrated before him, to the great regret of the grenadier, whilst the old woman exulting with joy, assuming an air of the highest satisfaction. Some time afterwards the king was desirous of seeing the couple he had ordered to be married.-When presented to him, he fell into a most violent passion. The Colonel in vain attempted to justify himself, and the King would not be appeased till the old woman confessed the truth, finishing her tale by raising her eyes to heaven, and thanking Providence for conferring on her a blessing the more signal and acceptable, as it was totally unexpected.

Etymology of the Word Bigot.-It is really amusing to see how eccentric and witty commentators have been in their sedulous and persevering hunting after the etymon of this word-which, after all, means nothing else than "by God," or 66 by Gott," as it is still pro nounced in Germany.-The_meaning of the word in English and in French, being "a superstitious hypocrite," or "a man blindly devoted to a worship or a doctrine, he hardly understands," shows plainly that this appellation was principally attached to obstinate zealots on occount of their frequent calling upon God, as a witness, for the truth of their

assertions. The following anecdote confirms the etymology of the word:

"Rollo, the first Duke of Normandy, refused to kiss the King's foot unless he held it out to him for that purpose; it being a ceremony used in token of subjection for that Dukedom, with which the King at the time invested him. Those who were present, taking notice of the Duke's refusal, advised to comply with the King's desire; to which he answered them, "Ne se bigot;" Not so, by God-upon which he was in derision called Bigot; and the Normans are still so called."--Cowel's Interpreter, ad Verbum Bigot.

I have no wreaths to crown thee, of the laurel and the rose,

For the flowers of love, or wreaths of fame were never meant for me;

But tho' no fragrant garlands the minstrel's hand bestows;

It dares sweet lyre to wake again thy simple melody.

In the lone and silent valley, I again thy chords awaken,

Where no sound mingles with them, save the murmur of the stream,

And the rustling of the leaves that the even' breeze has shaken,

From the trees that yet are bright in the sun's departing beam.

'Tis here alone my mountain Lyre, thy wild and simple numbers,

May pour their lingering cadence to the streamlet and the grove.

Awakening the lone echo from the cave wherein she slumbers,

While dreams are hovering round him of her cold and altered love.

There are many who have heard thee, and scorn'd thy varying measure;

But what are all their frowns, or their coldness

unto me:

My lonely heart is yet too proud to feel one throb of pleasure,

In the thought that they perchance might smile upon thy minstrelsy.

The lays that I have breathed to thee when sorrow rested on me:

Perchance were cold and heartless as the dreams that filled my soul;

But I have lingered o'er them, as if their sadness won me,

From the darkness and the anguish that o'er my feelings stole.

There are many who have scorned thee my lonely lyre, but never,

Can they know the proud feelings of the heart they would disdain

Thy chords should rest in silence and thy muse cease for ever,

Had I thoughts that hearts as cold as theirs should ever hear thy strain.

In this lone and silent valley far away from pride or splendor,

Or the dreams of faithless love would the lonely minstrel dwell;

Here woo 'the star of eve or the moonbeams light so tender;

And the world's heartless votaries should ne'er profane her cell.

But 'tis a dream of joy like those hopes so long

departed,

That live but in my mourning heart and thy beloved lays,

Yet there is a peaceful dwelling for the sad and broken hearted,

And the minstrel of the valley like her lays shall

Found in a Case containing a Human
Skeleton.

Behold this ruin? 'Twas a skull
Once of ethereal spirit full!

This narrow cell was Life's retreat:
This space was Thought's mysterious seat !
What beauteous pictures filled this spot,
What dreams of pleasure long forgot!
Nor Love, nor Joy, nor Hope, nor Fear,
Has left one trace or record here!
Beneath this mould'ring canopy
Once shone the bright and busy eye-
But start rot at the dismal void;
If social Love that eye employ'd;
If with no lawless fire it gleam'd,
But through the dew of kindness beam'd;
That eye shall be for ever bright,
When stars and suns have lost their light!

Here, in this silent cavern, hung
The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue;
If Falsehood's honey it disdain'd,
And where it could not praise was chain'd;
If bold in Virtue's cause it spoke,
Yet gentle Concord never broke;
That tuneful tongue shall plead for thee
When death unveils eternity!

Say, did these fingers delve the mine,
Or with its envied rubies shine?

tirely, or else, from the hurry which must arise when necessity presses both upon our hands at once, imperfection and error will mark our efforts.

Procrastination is certainly a dangerous indulgence, and finally productive of the most baneful effects. Some men constantly complain of being hurried in their occupations for want of time: this would not be so frequently their complaint, provided they made a proper and judicious use of each day. This bustle and haste is occasioned in most cases, by an influx of occurrences which equally demand our attention; but if we carefully examine into the causes that give rise to such a profusion of circumstances thus crowding upon us at the same moment, we shall find them to arise from our own impropriety: want of perseverance and alacrity in our conduct. If some vain pleasure, or supposed object of enjoyment should flash before the attention, we are apt to put off the execution of a necessary business, rather than forego and miss this fascinating gratification: we may accordingly make the delay; but another moment will come when to procrastinate would be to sustain the greatest injury-and when that moment arrives then springs up the difficulty. Other

duties also assail us, which likewise call for immediate notice; - and when added to the one which has been neglected, till necessity demands its completion, we have the mortification to see a numerous catalogue of subjects arranged before us, and each of them requiring an instant execution, and none of them calculated for being further delayed.

I subjoin the following stanzas of an old poem, entitled "Loss in Delay," written by Robert Southwell, a writer in the days of Queen Elizabeth: they are applicable to the theme before

me:

Shun delays, they breed remorse;

Take thy time while time is lent thee, Creeping snails have weakest force,

Fly their fault, lest thou repent thee. Good is best, when soonest wrought, Ling'ring labours come to nought.

Hoist up sail while gale doth last,
Tide and wind stay no man's pleasure;
Seek not time when time is past,

Sober speed is wisdom's leisure.
After-wits are dearly bought,
Let thy fore wit guard thy thought.

Time wears all his locks before,
Take thou hold upon his forehead;

When he flies, he turns no more,

And behind his scalp is naked.
Works adjourned have many stays;
Long demurs breed new delays.
Seek the salve while sore is green,
Festered wounds ask deeper lancing;
After-cures are seldom seen,

Often sought, scarce ever chancing.
Time and place give best advice,
Out of season, out of price.

We find men generally inclined to forego the execution of any thing that is not of a very pleasant nature, though all the time they are conscious that the delay, or delivery from the disagreeable task, can but be of transient satisfaction, since they must sooner or later fulfil the duty which awaits them. How we deceive ourselves! Would it not be better, and more conformable to our characters, as rational and thinking beings, to display an unshaken firmness in difficulty and becoming intrepedity in the face of danger; and not, like the poltroon, seek to evade, by every act of imbecillity, the menacing enemy, rather than give him battle in an honourable and courageous manner. The sooner we get rid of an unpleasant job, it will be the better; but the longer we put off its consummation; so much more will be our pain and anxiety-the assurance that we have a certain disagreeable operation to perform, will always haunt our minds, and in the midst of our greatest and over-joyed festivities, this reflection will spring up to check the aspiration of happiness, and to shorten the existence of mirth.

If such considerations as these were duly appreciated, many thousands would be induced to conquer their inclination to procrastinate. They would, moreover, discover that much true satisfaction arises from a consciousness of having got over an obnoxious piece of business, and of not having neglected the completion of any one duty. Puerile and weak is that resort which has for its purpose a mere delay of the accomplishment of a work that is rather uninviting and void of satisfaction. Any shift that promises a partial respite, is deemed good enough, and is resorted to without shame and regret! but the consideration that every evasion must be put aside, and every piece of cozenry abandoned, in a very short time, ought to summon us to resolution and dispatch! and rather than procrastinate, to seize the living moment as the fittest for execution and activity.